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Contents  of  McClurfs  Magazine 

VOLUME   X. 
NOVEMBER,   1897,  TO   APRIL,    1898. 


PACK 

ADAMS,    JOHN    QUINCY,   THE    DEATH   OF.     A  Personal  Recollection.     General 

John  M.  Thayer 126 

AMERICA,   A   FRENCH    CRITIC'S   IMPRESSIONS  OF.     Ferdinand  Brunetiere 67/ 

AMERICAN,  AN,    AT   KARLSHAD.     Cy  Warman.     Illustrated 205 

ANDR£E    PARTY,    LETTERS    FROM    THE.     The  Balloon  Expedition  to  the  Pole. 

Illustrated 41 1 

ASIA,   IN    UNEXPLORED.      Discoveries  and  Adventures  of  Dr.  Sven  Hedin.     R.  H. 

Sherard.      Illustrated. , 180 

BRAKEMAN,   A,    IN   THE   YARD  AND   ON  THE  ROAD.     A   Narrative  of  Personal 

Experiences.     Herbert  E.  Hamblen.     Illustrated 211 

BROWN,   JOHN,   REMINISCENCES  OF.     Daniel  B.  Hadley 273 

CHRISTMAS   NIGHT.     Painting  by  F.  S.  Church 179 

CIVIL   WAR    PHOTOGRAPHS,   THE    GOVERNMENT    COLLECTION    OF.      General 

A.  W.   Greely 18    - 

CLEMENS,    SAMUEL   L.     "MARK   TWAIN."    A  Character  Sketch.     Robert  Barr.  . .  246 

DANA,    CHARLES   A.  :  AN    EDITORIAL   NOTE   193 

DE   MONVEL,   BOUTET.     A  Painter  of  Children.     Norman  Hapgood.     Illustrated. 197 

DREAMERS.     A  Poem.     Rosalie  M.  Jonas.     Illustrated 32 

EDISON'S   REVOLUTION    IN    IRON    MINING.     Theodore  Waters.     Illustrated. 75 

EDITORIAL    NOTES 289,  385,  482 

FICTION  :  Short  Stories. 

ACCORDIN*  TO  SOLOMON.    Mary  M.  Mbars 38a 

ARCHBISHOP'S,  THE,  CHRISTMAS  GIFT.    Robert  Barr.    Illustrated 143 

BRIDE,  THE,  COMES  TO  YELLOW  SKY.    Stephen  Crake.    Illustrated 377 

CUPID'S  MESSENGER.    Gertrude  Adams.    Illustrated. 571 

DAY,  THE,  OF  THE  DOG.    Morgan  Robertson.    Illustrated. 534 

DOMINOES,  THE  ROW  OF.    Frank  Crane.    Illustrated. 525 

EXPERIMENT  IN  BURGLARY,  AN.    H.  Hobakt  Nichols.    Illustrated. 4<M 

INCIDENT,  THE,  OF  THE  BRITISH   AMBASSADOR.    Bliss  Perry 165 

"KING   FOR  A  DAY."    W.  A.  Frasbr 505 

LONG   LADDER,  THE.    Robert  Barr.    Illustrated 226 

OTTENHAUSEJTS  COUP.    John  Walker  Harrington.    Illustrated. 475 

SAIRY  SPENCER'S  REVOLT.     Carrie  Blake  Morgan.    Illustrated 268 

SWEETHEARTS  AND  WIVES.    Anna  A.  Rogers 54 

TOMB,  THE,  OF  HIS  ANCESTORS.    Rudyard  Kipling.    Illustrated 99 

TWENTIETH   CENTURY  WOMAN,  A.    Ella  Hicc.inson.    Illustrated. 60 

UNJUST  ACCUSATION,   AN.     Robert  Barr.    Illustrated. 47 

WEE  TAY  TABLE,  THE.    Shan  F.  Bullock.     Illustrated ■$*> 

FIRING    A    LOCOMOTIVE.      A    Narrative    ok    Personal    Experiences.      Herbert    E. 

Hamblen.     Illustrated. 361 

FREIGHT    ENGINEER.    ADVENTURES    OF   A.     A  Narrative  of    Personal  Experi- 
ences.    Herbert  E.  Hamblen.     Illustrated 3S9 

FRENCH   CRITIC'S,   A,   IMPRESSIONS  OF   AMERICA.     Ferdinand  Brunetiere 67 

GAY    GORDONS.    THE.     Darc.ai,  October,  20,  1897.     A  Pokm.     Henry  Newbolt 497 

GEORGE'S,    HENRY,    LAST    BOOK.     Hamlin  Garland 380 

GORDON    HIGHLANDERS,    STORIES   OF   THE.     Charles  Lowe.     Illustrated.. 485 

GRANT   AND   WARD   FAILURE,    THE.     A  Romano,  or  Wall  Street.     IIami.in   Gar- 

land.    Illustrated f^7\VSrrTh>  4q8 

HALCYON   DAYS.     A  Poem.     Walt  Whitman Qiflit]^d.by\j.O.Q5lS  93 


iv  CONTENTS. 

I  AGS 

HYMNS   THAT    HAVE    HELPED.     W.  T.  Stead 172 

INCIDENT,   AN,   OF   '49.     James  II.  Holmes.     Illustrated 251 

INDIA,  FROM,  TO  SOUTH  AFRICA.     The  Diauy  of  a  Voyage.     Mark  Twain.     Illus- 
trated    3 

IRON    MINING,    EDISON'S   REVOLUTION    IN.     Theodore  Waters.     Illustrated 75 

IS    THERE    A    SANTA   CLAUS?     Illustrated 192 

KARLSBAD,    AN    AMERICAN    AT.     Cy  Warman.     Illustrated. 205 

KLONDIKE!   HO   FOR   THE.       The  Various  Ways   in.— Where  the  Gold   is  Found. 

Hamlin  Garland.     Illustrated. k 443 

LIFE    IS   STRUGGLE.     A  Poem.     Arthur  Hugh  Clough 96 

LINCOLN,    SOME   GREAT    PORTRAITS   OF.     Ida  M.  Tarbell.     Illustrated 339 

MADONNAS,    THREE    FAMOUS. 

VIRGIN  ADORING  THE  INFANT  CHRIST.    Perugino ,21 

MADONNA  AND  CHILD,  AND  ST.  JOHN.    Botticelli ia2 

MADONNA    AND    CHILD    ("THE    MADONNA    OF    THE    GRAND    DUKE").    Raphael 123 

MIRROR,   THE.     A  Poem.     Margaret  F.  Mauro 277 

MODERN    MIRACLE,    A.     H.  G.   Prout.     Illustrated 45 

PAINTER,    A,    OF   CHILDREN— BOUTET    DE    MONVEL.      Norman   Hapgood.      Illus- 
trated    197 

PASSENGER   ENGINEER,   ADVERSITIES  OF   A.      A  Narrative  of  Personal  Experi- 
ences.    Herbert  E.   Hamblen.     Illustrated. 513 

POLAR   EXPLORATION,    FUTURE    NORTH.     Dr.   Fridtjof  Nansen.     Illustrated......  293 

PRIZE    DRAWINGS: 

A   TYPE  OF  AMERICAN  HEAD.    Paint™  nv  Miss  Lillie  O'Ryan 94 

A  TYPE  OF  AMERICAN   HEAD.    Drawn  by  J.  Harrison  Mills 95 

RAILROAD   MAN,  THE   LIFE    OF    THE.       Drawn  from   Fifteen  Years'  Experience. 
Herbert  E.  Hamblen. 

A  BRAKEMAN   IN   THE  YARD   AND   ON  THE   ROAD.    Illustrated 211 

FIRING  A   LOCOMOTIVE.     Illustrated 361 

ADVENTURES  OF  A   FREIGHT   ENGINEER.     Illustrated 389 

ADVERSITIES  OF  A   PASSENGER   ENGINEER.     Illustrated 5,3 

RAILROADS,    THE   NATION'S.     George  B.  Waldron.     Illustrated. 557 

REMINISCENCES  OF    MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR.     Charles  A.  Dana. 

I.    FROM   THE   "TRIBUNE"    TO  THE  WAR    DEPARTMENT.    Illustrated 20 

II.    FROM   MEMPHIS    TO  VICKSBURG.-THE  VICKSBURG  CAMPAIGN.     Illustrated 150 

III.  LIFE    IN    THE  TRENCHES    AT    VICKSBURG   AND  THE    MEN    IN    COMMAND.    Illus- 

trated.    253 

IV.  IN    COUNCIL    AND    IN    BATTLE   WITH    ROSECRANS    AND    THOMAS.— A    VISIT    TO 

BURNSIDE   AT   KNOXVILLE.    Illustrated. 347 

V.  THE  BATTLE  OF  CHATTANOOGA.— IN  THE  WAR  DEPARTMENT  WITH  STANTO!.'. 

Illustrated. 431 

VI.    MR.   LINCOLN  AND   HIS  CABINET.    Illustrated 561 

RUPERT    OF    IIENTZAU.        A    Novel.       Chapters    I.-XIV.       Anthony     Hope.       Illus- 
trated  128,  235,  322,  455,  546 

SAY     NOT     THE     STRUGGLE     NOUGHT     AVAILETH.        A    Poem.      Arthur    Hugh 

Clough 96 

SOUTH    AFRICA,    TO,   FROM   INDIA.     The  Diary  of  a  Voyage.     Mark  Twain.     Illus- 
trated    3 

ST.    IVES.     A  Novel.     Conclusion.     Robert  Louis  Stevensen.   ....  33 

STEVENSON'S  GALLERY,    THE   LAST    PORTRAIT    IN.     A  Poem £90 

TARBELL,    IDA    M.     A  Portrait 427 

TO   R.    T.    II.    B.     A  Poem.     William  Ernest  Henley 96 

TRUCK   SIX,    AN  ADVENTURE    OF.     A   True  Story  of  a  Fireman's  Bravery.     Ray 

Stannard  Baker 428 

VESPERTINA  QUIES.     A  Painting  by  Sir  Edward  Burne-Jones 267 

WALL   STREET,    A   ROMANCE    OF.     The  Grant  and   Ward  Failure.      Hamlin  Gar- 
land.     Illustrated 498 

WASHINGTON,    GEORGE,    THE    LAST    DAYS   OF.      From  the  Manuscript  Diary  of 

his  Private  Secretary,  Colonel  Tobias  Lear.     Illustrated. 315 

WHERE    IS   ANDREE?    Walter  Wellman.     Illustrated. •  ••°>vw/~vvvTA22 


YET  '    FOR    PITY.     A  Poem.     Ella  Higginson.     Illustrated.. .  J.Dy.>^.VV^NLV24 


in.     IUnstraTMIvk  ty.  VrJ.QQS  I-V24 


GREAT    BUSINESS    ENTERPRISES. 


THE   COLUMBIA    CHAINLESS. 

THE  AUTHENTIC   STORY   OF   A    MARVELOUS 
ACHIEVEMENT. 


By    Russell    Stone. 


The  chainless  bicycle,  be  it  said  in  the 
beginning,  has  come.  The  long-promised, 
long-deferred  is  here.  In  that  quiet  Con- 
necticut capital  from  whence  near  a  million 
bicycles  have  come,  through  streets  whose 
arching  trees  were  just  turning  to  yellow 
and  gold,  I  have  taken  my  first  ride  upon  a 
successful  chainless  wheel. 

The  word  successful  implies  much ;  in 
the  present  instance,  it  implies  a  marvel. 
I  wish  to  indicate  all  of  this.  The  wheel 
which  I  rode,  one  of  the  earliest  made,  has 
been  in  service  about  a  year ;  it  has  had 
the  roughest  usage ;  it  has  been  out  in  all 
weathers;  it  has  been  subjected  to  every 
possible  test  which  a  bicycle  might  ever  be 
expected  to  undergo.  And  it  runs  to-day 
as  easily  as  any  bicycle  that  was  ever  put 
on  the  road.  It  has  been  under  test,  as  I 
say,  for  months,  and  its  shaft  is  not  twisted, 


its  bevel  gears  are  not  out  of  plumb,  th'. 
wheels  are  not  sprung,  the  cogs  are  not 
broken. 

In  brief,  what  the  greatest  of  bicycle 
makers  regarded  as  impossible,  what  the 
most  competent  of  mechanical  engineers 
declared  was  utterly  impracticable,  what 
even  his  own  experts  looked  upon  as  a  fool- 
hardy attempt,  the  indomitable  builder  of 
the  famous  Columbia  has  at  last  achieved. 

The  wonder  of  it,  if  the  paradox  is 
allowable,  is  that  nothing  wonderful  is  ap- 
parent ;  it  is  so  extraordinarily  simple.  Out- 
wardly there  is  nothing  more  noticeable 
than  the  absence  of  the  awkward  and 
clumsy  chain.  Inwardly  there  is  nothing 
more  than  a  pair  of  bevel  gears,  set  at 
either  end  of  a  short  slender  steel  shaft. 
All  this  is  boxed  in ;  the  metal  case  which 
encloses  the  gearing  is  but  little  larger  than 
one  of  the  big  cyclometers  which  were  in 
use  a  few  years  ago ;  the  shaft  itself  turns 
in  a  hollow  tube  no  larger  than  that  com- 
prising the  frame  of  an  ordinary  chain-and- 
sprocket  wheel.  And  that  is  all.  The  entire 
mechanism  occupies  so  little  visible  space 
that,  as  you  look  at  the  machine  for  the 
first  time,  you  are  at  a  loss  to  understand 
how  it  runs. 

It  is  just  because  of  this,  and  because  it 
does  run,  smoothly,  noiselessly  and  with 
greater  ease  than  any  wheel  which  has  yet 
been  made,  of  any  type,  that  it  is  a  success. 


Notk.— These  articles  on  Great  Business  Enterprises  are  prepared  under  the  supervision  of  the  editor  of  the  Macazinp, 
by  a  member  of  its  regular  staff,  and  with  the  same  literary  and  artistic  care  as  articles  designed  for  the  body  of  the  Magazine. 
The  cost  of  them  is  borne,  however,  by  the  several  firms  whose  industries  they  describe. 


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THE    COLUMBIA    CHATNLRSS. 


In  order  to  realize  the  full  measure  of 
this  achievement  it  will  be  necessary  to  go 
back  a  little.  For  ten  years  or  more  rivalry 
in  the  field  of  bicycle  construction  has  been 
of  the  keenest.  Probably  no  industry  in 
the  world  has  engaged  finer  mechanical 
genius,  nor,  for  that  matter,  larger  capital, 
proportionately,  than  has  been  lavished  on 
the  perfected  "safety."  One  must  have 
personally  made  a  tour  through  one  of  the 
great  factories  and  seen  with  his  own  eyes 
the  truly  marvelous  mechanical  contri- 
vances, the  care  and  detail  which  go  to  the 
making  of  the  swift,  graceful  machine  we 
ride,  in  order  to  adequately  realize  what  a 
triumph  of  constructive  ingenuity  it  is. 

And  yet  there  was  one  unsatisfactory 
feature.  That,  it  is  needless  to  say,  is  the 
chain.  It  does  not  require  an  expert 
knowledge  of  dynamics  to  understand  that 
the  chain  and  sprocket  is  an  expensive  de- 
vice for  the  transmission  of  power.  As 
soon  as  the  chain  begins  to  do  work,  it 
begins  to  wear — and  fill.     It  is  exposed  to 


the  weather,  and  mud  and  dust.  All  these 
influences  directly  shorten  its  life.  More 
than  all  this,  its  effect,  since  it  is  placed 
upon  one  side,  with  no  counter-balancing 
force,  is  to  pull  the  rear  wheel  out  of  plumb 
— to  twist  it  round. 

Thousands  of  dollars,  hundreds  of  de- 
vices, and  endless  experiments  have  hitherto 
failed  to  overcome  these  difficulties  or  to 
find  out  any  better  substitute. 

Among  these  hundreds  of  devices  the 
bevel  gear  rnd  transmitting  shaft  was  one  ; 
and  one  of  the  most  attractive.  And  for 
this  reason  almost  every  bicycle  maker  has 
tried  to  construct  such  a  gearing — one  that 
would  be  a  success. 

Now,  not  the  least  remarkable  part  of 
the  matter  is  that  four  or  five  years  ago 
such  a  bevel  gear  and  shaft  was  actually 
devised — was  an  actual  success.  That  was 
the  old  League  wheel.  It  was  a  cumber- 
some machine,  its  construction  was  faulty, 
its  tread  was  very  wide,  its  weight  was 
thirty-eight   pounds.     It   was   far   from    a 


SHOW  I  NT.   RASE  OF  LIFTING  OUT  RBAK  WHSBL. 


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THE   COLUMBIA    CHAINLESS. 


thing  of  beauty.  But  a  thousand  or  more 
of  these  machines  were  marketed  before  the 
company  failed  and  went  out  of  business. 

This  wheel  was  so  well  liked  in  spite  of 
all  its  faults  that  there  is  more  than  one 
rider  in  this  country  who  has  awaited  the 
construction  of  a  new  and  better  chainless 
before  he  would  give  up  the  old  one.  The 
wheels  were  suprisingly  easy  to  ride — they 
even  made  records.  A  well-known  rider, 
"Jack  Knowles,"  made  sixty  consecutive 
centuries  on  one  of  them,  and  that,  too,  in 
sixty  consecutive  days.  Many  of  his  runs 
were  over  roads  that  would  have  been  im- 
passable for  an  ordinary  chain-and-sproket 
wheel ;  they  were  ridden  through  mud  and 
slush,  and  with  water,  at  times,  almost  to 
the  hubs. 

All  this  was  not  merely  extraordinary 
then ;  it  has  never  been  equaled  since  by 
any  wheel  now  on  the  market.  It  is 
notable,  too,  that  whoever  rode  a  League 
wheel  found  his  initial  prejudice  giving  place 
to  admiration  for  some  of  its  features. 
With  all  the  handicap  of  a  bad  model  and 
crude  workmanship,  the  League  wheels 
were  a  demonstration  that  the  bevel  gears 
were  built  to  run. 

After  the  League  enterprise  failed  its 
patents  went  into  the  hands  of  the  Columbia 
company.  As  a  matter  of  course  League 
wheels  in  Hartford  and  round  about  began 
in  time  to  come  to  the  Pope  Manufacturing 
Company's  works  to  be  repaired.  The 
vital  part  of  the  story  is  here:  they  never 
came  because  of  any  failure  of  the  bei>el  gears. 
Other  parts  of  the  machine  might  go  to 
pieces ;  the  bevel  gears  were  still  intact. 

All  this,  it  should  be  noted,  was  in  entire 
contradiction  to  what  all  the  experts  and 
trained  engineers  had  invariably  declared 
would  take  place.  The  experts  were  per- 
suaded that  the  cogs  would  bind,  that  the 
apparatus  would  crumple  up,  and,  in  short, 
that  the  bevel-gear  principle  could  not  be 
applied  on  a  bicycle  with  success. 

Any  one  who  has  gone  even  a  little  way 
into  the  history  of  invention  and  mechani- 
cal advance,  especially  in  this  country,  will 
have  learned  that  "  impossible  "  is  a  danger- 
ous word.  The  present  instance  is  to  be  add- 
ed to  other  notable  cases  of  such  bad  usage. 

The  fact  that  stood  boldly  out  was  that 
the  mechanical  demonstration  of  the  chain- 
less  bicycle  had  been  made.  It  was  one 
thing,  however,  to  make  a  bevel-gear  wheel 
which  would  run  for  thousands  of  miles 
without  appreciably  showing  wear  and  tear ; 
it  was  quite  another  to  make  a  chainless 


m 

wheel  that  could  be  put  on  the  market  at  a 
price  which  would  enable  it  to  compete 
with  the  wheel  now  in  vogue.  The  success 
of  the  bevel  gear  was  due  to  two  things : 
first,  fine  gear  cutting,  and  second,  to  a 
frame  so  rigid  that  the  gearing  could  not 
be  dislocated  or  sprung.  The  introduction 
of  nickel  steel  made  possible  a  frame  that 
would  be  at  once  sufficiently  rigid  and  still 
not  un.'jightly  or  clumsily  large.  There  re- 
mained the  problem  of  cutting  on  a  large 
scale  absolutely  perfect  gears. 

It  has  cost  half  a  million  dollars  to 
solve  this  problem.  When  the  makers  of 
the  Columbia  began  their  experiments,  two 
years  ago,  there  were  not  in  the  wide  world 
factories  with  a  sufficient  caoacity  to  supply 
the  Pope  factory  with  bevel  gears  for  an 
hour  r\  day. 

It  was  an  absolute  requisite  that  these 
little  gears — not  so  wide  as  the  palm  of 
your  hand — should  be  cut  so  true  that 
when  they  came  to  be  put  together,  or 
rather,  what  is  much  more  to  the  point, 
when  they  came  to  roll  together,  they  would 
not  vary  a  hair's  breadth — not  one  two- 
thousandths  of  an  inch !  Formerly  they 
were  cut  by  hand,  at  least  such  as  required 
this  extreme  accuracy.  In  order  to  make 
them  in  sufficient  quantities  for  use  in  a 
bicycle,  it  was  necessary  that  they  should 
be  made  by  machinery,  and  by  the  hun- 
dreds a  day. 

The  machine  to  do  this  has  been  built 
and  is  at  work.  As  you  stand  watching  it 
it  does  not  seem  human — it  seems  more. 
With  clock-like  precision  it  takes  hold  of 
the  roughed-out  pieces  of  bevel  cogs  as  they 
come  from  the  die  in  which  they  have  been 
forged,  and  chisels  and  pares  them  down 
to  a  fineness  of  finish  comparable  only  to 
the  movement  of  the  most  delicate  watch. 

It  is  not  merely  that  these  cogs  must  be 
cut  smooth  and  true;  they  must  be  cut 
upon  a  curve  and  with  a  shelving  face. 
Not  only  must  the  cog  be  rounded  with 
absolute  precision,  but  the  opening  between 
the  teeth  must  be  slightly  wider  toward  the 
upper  end.  This  tapering  of  the  teeth  and 
the  spaces  must  be  exactly  uniform.  More 
than  this,  the  side  of  each  tooth  must  be 
cut  with  a  gradual  and  mathematically  exact 
swell  (what  is  known  as  an  epicycloidal 
curve),  so  that  when  the  teeth  are  in  opera- 
tion they  will  come  together  and  separate 
with  a  rolling  motion  and  without  any  slip- 
ping or  grinding  whatever. 

Now,  imagine,  if  you  will,  a  machine 
which,  when  the  roughed-out  gear  is  set  in 

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IV 


THE    COLUMBIA    CHAINLESS. 


place,  will  cut  away  these  teeth  of  such 
extraordinary  shape — file  them  down,  as  it 
were,  to  the  exact  degree  of  fineness,  and, 
having  completed  one,  turn  to  the  next 
without  any  interference  from  the  operator ; 
and  so  on  clear  around  the  circle.  Then 
with  a  sharp  click,  like  that  of  a  benign 
old  lady  snapping  together  her  needles 
when  the  stocking  is  done,  this  automaton 
of  steel  draws  back  its  knives,  throws  off 
the  belt  and  thus  announces  that  its  ap- 
pointed task  is  finished.  As  I  stood  before 
it,  marveling  greatly,  I  seemed  to  under- 
stand why  it  did  not  look  up  and  speak  to 
me ;  it  was  much  too  busy,  and  no  doubt 
its  voiceless  brain  was  too  weary,  after  such 
an  exacting  task,  for  speech. 

Yet  even  when  these  wonderful  affairs 
were  designed  and  completed  and  set  up, 
row  after  row,  like  workmen  at  a  bench, 
merely  a  beginning — though  it  was  a  very 
great  beginning — had  been  made.  To  have 
mechanically  perfect  gears  that  could  be 
cut  by  machinery  in  half  an  hour  where  it 
had  formerly  required  days  was  a  great  ad- 
vance. But  it  was  still  necessary  to  construct 
a  frame  which  should  not  merely  permit  of 
a  free  working  of  the  parts  when  first  set 
up,  but  should  hold  them  together  so  firmly 
that  they  might  be  subjected  to  any  strain, 
short  of  that  which  would  ruin  the  entire 
machine.  The  frame  must  be  so  rigid  that 
no  strain  will  draw  the  gearing  apart  by  so 
much  as  the  hundredth  of  an  inch.     This 


is  one  reason  why  the  old  League  wheel 
was  so  heavy.  Its  makers  knew  no  other 
way  to  give  it  this  required  firmness  than 
to  make  it,  figuratively,  as  heavy  as  a  dray. 

It  was  just  about  this  time  that  the 
National  Government  had  shown  the  as- 
tonishing possibilities  that  lay  in  the  use 
of  nickel  steel  for  armor  plate.  Elaborate 
tests  upon  this  new  metal  disclosed  that  by 
the  addition  of  a  small  percentage  of  nickel, 
steel  takes  on  a  wonderful  rigidity  without 
losing  those  other  qualities  which  have 
made  it  the  most  useful  metal  in  the 
world. 

It  was  a  naval  engineer  who  suggested  to 
Colonel  Pope  the  possibility  that  nickel 
steel  might  be  employed  in  the  manufacture 
of  bicycles  in  the  making  of  frames.  At 
that  time  there  was  not  a  single  establish- 
ment in  existence  manufacturing  nickel 
steel  tubing ;  it  was  not  even  known  that 
such  a  tubing  could  be  satisfactorily  made. 

It  has  required  an  outlay  of  nearly  a  million 
dollars  to  build  and  equip  a  plant  for  this 
purpose ;  but  the  result  has  justified  the 
expenditure.  Nickel  steel  tubing  has  been 
introduced  in  all  the  Columbia  Bicycles 
made  this  year,  and  it  has  been  found  to 
be  the  most  perfect  material  for  this  pur- 
pose which  has  yet  been  discovered. 

It  is  nickel  steel  which,  as  I  remarked  a 
little  way  back,  has  made  possible  the  con- 
struction of  light,  graceful  bevel-gear  shaft- 
ing*    A   glance  at  the  illustrations  which 


CAPS   REMOVED  TO  SHOW   SEAR  GEAR   IN   PLACE. 


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accompany  this  article  will  disclose  the 
principle  employed  and  likewise  the  method 
of  construction. 

Bevel  gears  join  the  rear  axle  and  like- 
wise the  crank-shaft  between  the  pedals 
Between  these  two  pairs  of  gearings  is  a 
short,  hollow  shaft,  set  upon  ball  bearings 
and  transmitting  the  motion  of  the  crank- 
shaft to  the  rear  wheel.  Practically  this 
is  all.  Delicate  devices,  which  it  would  be 
difficult  here  to  describe  with  profit,  unite 
the  shaft  with  the  bevel  gears  so  firmly  that 
they  will  run  for  years  without  disturbance 
and  yet  permit  the  rear  gearing  to  be  re- 
moved and  another  substituted  with  quick- 
ness and  ease. 

It  almost  goes  without  saying  that  a  long- 
headed business  man  with  a  reputation 
which  a  generation  of  commercial  and  me- 
chanical success  has  established,  will  not 
risk  either  that  reputation  or  the  half 
million  dollars  he  has  invested,  on  a  prod- 
uct that  offers  the  slightest  possibility  of 
failure  when  placed  before  the  public. 
Still,  I  can  give  but  a  faint  idea  of  the  long 
course  of  experimentation  and  the  exhaus- 
tive tests  which  have  wrought  the  new 
chainless  wheel  to  probably  the  highest 
pitch  of  perfection  which  it  is  possible  at 
this  day  to  achieve. 

The  fact  which  should  be  borne  in  mind 
is  that  the  bevel  gear  has  been  worked  out 
in  the  face  of  what  those  who  were  re- 
garded as  the  highest  authorities  had  to 
say  upon  the  subject.  It  is  very  interest- 
ing to  learn  that  even  after  the  thing  had 
been  done  the  experts  still  declared  that  it 
was  not  commercially  practicable.  Even 
the  trained  engineers  persisted  in  this  belief 
long  after  the  old  League  wheel  had  shown 
that  the  bevel  gear  could  be  made  a  success. 
The  chainless  wheels  made  by  this  com- 
pany had  been  running  in  Hartford,  and 
notwithstanding  every  test,  for  two  years 
before  the  men  who  had  made  the  Colum- 
bia what  it  is — the  finest-built  wheel  in  the 
world — could  be  brought  to  believe  that 
the  new  type  might  be  so  far  perfected  as 
to  be  superior  to  the  chain-and-sprocket 
wheel.  Such '  is  the  force  of  educated 
prejudice. 

If  such  a  degree  of  prejudice  is  to  be 
found  among  those  who  have  made  all 
these  questions  more  or  less  of  a  life-long 
study,  it  will  not  be  surprising  to  find  much 
adverse  opinion  in  the  minds  of  those  who 
are  merely  bicycle  riders.  It  will  be  of 
interest,  therefore,  to  run  over  one  after 
another  of   the  questions  which  naturally 


arise  when  one  comes  to  consider  the 
chainless  for  the  first  time.  In  doing  this 
we  may  note  what  the  tests,  hundreds  upon 
hundreds  in  number,  have  demonstrated. 
These  tests,  it  may  be  said  in  passing,  may 
be  regarded  as  the  final  word  upon  the 
subject,  since  it  is  obvious  that  for  the 
Pope  company  itself  to  entertain  the 
slightest  delusion  regarding  the  new  wheel 
would  result,  in  the  end,  in  sure  and  certain 
disaster. 

First,  as  to  the  question  of  efficiencies. 
It  was  found  that  under  a  heavy  load  the 
chainless  wheel  showed  an  efficiency  of 
nearly  95  per  cent,  and  under  light  loads 
88.5  per  cent.  This  is  not  only  a  higher 
average  than  can  be  obtained  with  a  chain 
wheel,  but  it  likewise  develops  the  highly 
important  fact  that  under  extremely  heavy 
loads,  corresponding  to  the  very  worst  of 
hill  climbing,  the  bevel  gearing  shows  none 
of  that  "cramping,"  which  was  so  much 
feared.     It  simply  did  not  occur. 

It  was  also  noted  that  where  the  chain 
wheel  lost  in  efficiency  when  a  side  strain 
was  put  upon  the  crank  bracket,  similar  to 
that  which  comes  in  hill  climbing,  under 
the  same  conditions  the  chainless  wheel 
lost  nothing  at  all. 

Again,  it  is  probable  that  most  people 
would,  at  first  thought,  regard  the  friction 
of  bevel  gearing  as  greater  than  that  of  any 
other  form.  This,  because  of  the  fact  that 
in  the  transmission  of  the  motion  there  are 
two  right-angle  turns.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
it  has  been  found  that,  all  other  things  being 
equal,  bevel  gearing  is  slightly  more  efficient 
than  spur  gearing,  (of  which  the  chain  and 
sprocket  is  a  combination  type). 

It  has  been  found  that  what  would  be 
called  ordinarily  a  fairly  clean  chain  is  less 
efficient  by  3  or  4  per  cent,  than  the  same 
chain  when  carefully  cleaned  and  oiled. 
Such  variation  of  conditions  does  not  exist 
with  the  driving  mechanism  of  the  chain- 
less, as  it  is  practically  perfectly  protected 
from  dirt ;  and  this  is  what  no  gear  case 
can  insure.  Further  than  this,  the  wear  of 
the  chain,  with  accompanying  disagreement 
of  pitch  with  sprockets,  goes  on  just  the 
same  even  within  the  gear  case. 

The  wear  upon  the  gear  teeth,  cut  and 
carefully  hardened  as  they  are,  is  inappre- 
ciable, so  that  they  can  be  run  for  many 
thousands  of  miles  without  showing  the 
slightest  deterioration. 

In  the  discussion  of  the  chainless  bi- 
cycle much  has  been  said  of  the  "tor- 
sional strain "  to  which   such  a  shaft  as 


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VI 


THE    COLUMBIA    CHAINLESS. 


that  employed  in  bevel  gearing  would  neces- 
sarily be  subjected.  It  seems  a  preva- 
lent idea  that  no  piece  of  steel  could  be 
made  sufficiently  strong  to  withstand  this 
strain  without  being  all  out  of  proportion 
to  the  rest  of  the  wheel.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  not  only  has  such  a  shaft  been  con- 
structed so  slender  that  it  rolls  within  a 
piece  of  frame  tubing  of  the  ordinary  size, 
but  it  is  so  strong  that  under  ordinary 
strains  it  actually  increases,  very  slightly, 
in  efficiency,  rather  than  the  opposite. 
This  is  precisely  the  reverse  of  the  be- 
havior of  the  chain  wheel  under  a  similar 
strain. 

I  may  compact  into  a  few  brief  sen- 
tences some  other  of  the  disclosures  of  the 
tests  both  on  the  road  and  in  the  shop — 
tests  which  have  now  been  carried  on  for 
more  than  a  year. 

Under  all  conditions  of  riding,  and  un- 
der all  tests,  fhe  chainless  runs  easier  than 
the  chain  machine.  This  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  the  bevel  gear  offers  less  resistance 
due  to  friction  than  the  best  chain  bicycle 
which  can  be  built.  A  perfectly-cut  bevel 
gear  presents  a  rolling  contact  against  its 
mate,  producing  no  more  friction  than  a 
pair  of  shafts,  or  even  ball  bearings,  roll- 
ing together. 

The  frame  does  not  get  out  of  line  under 
the  application  of  pressure,  and  even  if  it 
should  do  this  by  any  accident,  this  fact 


makes  no  difference  with  the  gearing  what- 
ever. Both  the  shaft  and  the  teeth  of  the 
gears  are  so  hard  and  so  strong  that  the  driv- 
ing cranks  will  break  before  they  give  way. 
This  is  the  best  illustration  I  can  give  of  the 
strength  of  the  bevel-gear  construction. 

The  chainless  wheel  makes  less  noise 
than  the  chain  wheel  even  when  each  are 
new  from  the  factory,  and  it  goes  without 
saying  that  as  the  chainless  gearing  is  no- 
where exposed  to  dirt  or  the  atmosphere, 
and  hence  undergoes  no  wear  or  rust  from 
these  influences,  it  is  as  noiseless  at  the 
end  of  the  year  as  the  day  it  started. 

The  driving  mechanism  of  the  chainless 
is,  on  the  whole,  less  complicated  and  has  a 
smaller  number  of  parts  than  the  chain  ma- 
chine, and  is,  therefore,  less  liable  to  get 
out  of  order.  More  than  this,  it  requires 
a  skillful  hand  to  take  apart  the  chain-and- 
sprocket  wheel  and  put  it  together  again 
properly.  The  chainless  is  so  simple  that  no 
more  than  ordinary  experience  with  a  wheel 
is  required  to  take  it  down  and  put  it  up. 

The  difference  in  the  weight  of  the  chain 
wheel  and  the  chainless,  model  for  model, 
is  so  slight  as  to  make  no  appreciable  dif- 
ference— a  matter  of  no  more  than  two  or 
three  pounds. 

With  the  use  of  nickel  steel  tubing,  and 
the  bracing  device  to  give  additional  firm- 
ness, the  Columbia  Chainless  is  the  strong- 
est bicycle  that  has  ever  been  made. 


THB  COLUMBIA   CHAINLESS  READY  FOR  THB   ROAD. 


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THE    COLUMBIA    CHAINLESS. 


THE    LA  DIBS     COLUMBIA   CHAINLHSS. 


Finally,  it  is  practically  established  that 
the  bevel  gearing  will  outlast  the  other  im- 
portant parts  of  the  machine.  In  other 
words,  so  highly  has  the  new  mechanism 
been  developed  that  it  has  practically  sur- 
passed many  other  portions  of  the  bicycle. 
This  is  to  me  a  very  striking  fact. 

It  remains  for  me  to  give  account  of  my 
own  sensations  on  the  new  wheel.  I  mount 
on  a  street  opposite  the  factory  that  has  a 
considerable  grade  and  start  off  up  the  hill. 
The  sensation  afforded  by  the  first  stroke 
of  the  pedal  is  an  odd  one.  There  is  no 
"  give,"  or  yielding  as  in  the  chain  wheel, 
at  all,  but  a  curious  feeling  of  firmness. 
At  the  instant  that  I  apply  pressure  upon 
the  pedal  the  machine  seems  to  answer. 
There  is  no  "  back- lash,"  as  riders  have 
come  to  call  it — that  slight  jog  or  interval 
which  comes  at  the  moment  when  one 
pedal  releases  the  tension  and  the  other 
takes  it  up. 

More  than  this,  although  the  chainless 
is  absolutely  noiseless  and  the  friction  is 
demonstrably  a  great  deal  less  than  in  the 
type  to  which  I  have  been  accustomed,  it 
seems  as  if  I  can  yet  feel  the  gearing  and 
follow  it  as  it  carries  the  motion  of  the 
crank-shaft  back  to  the  driving  wheel.  I 
cannot  better  describe  this  rather  elusive 
impression  than  to  say  it  seems  to  add  to 
that  exhilaration  which  every  bicycle  rider 
must  experience  "in  making  the  thing  go." 


It  is,  I  fancy,  an  added  sense  of  having 
your  machine  absolutely  under  your  own 
control. 

I  have  not  been  upon  my  own  wheel  for 
perhaps  a  month,  and  yet  I  mount  the  hill 
with  surprising  ease.  This  is  due,  I  sus- 
pect, to  the  fact  which  I  have  already 
noted — that  the  stroke  is  longer  and  quick- 
er to  take  effect.  The  considerable  loss 
of  energy  which  must  necessarily  occur  in 
taking  up  the  slack  of  the  chain,  when 
passing  the  "  dead  point "  at  each  revolu- 
tion, is  completely  eliminated. 

So,  again,  when  I  turn  the  corner  and 
meet  a  strong  head  wind,  I  experience  the 
same  effect.  The  positive  motion  of  the 
bevel  gears  gives  one  a  peculiar  sensation 
of  "going  straight  ahead."  There  is  no 
feeling  of  a  strain,  and  momentary  pause, 
and  then  the  answering  motion,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  chain  wheel.  Similarly  in  go- 
ing down  hill  there  is  the  same  impression 
of  absolute  control,  and  hence  ability  to 
stop  the  wheel  or  slow  it  as  one  likes. 

Disregarding  the  municipal  regulations 
of  Hartford  I  put  the  new  wheel  to  various 
coasting  tests  and  am  rather  astonished  to 
find  that  it  moves  off  with  no  more  feeling 
of  resistance  than  that  of  the  chain  wheel 
under  the  best  possible  conditions.  I  am 
told  that  the  most  precise  tests  have  shown 
that  the  chainless  will  actually  coast  farther 
and  run  farther  when  the  wheel  is  lifted 

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THE   COLUMBIA    CHATNLRSS. 


off  the  ground,  than  the  best  of  the  old 
type. 

Nor  is  this  all.  In  every  century  road 
test  the  rider  of  a  Columbia  Chainless  has 
shown  much  less  fatigue  than  his  com- 
panions. Upon  returning  from  a  spin  of 
104  miles  over  a  rough  country,  an  expe- 
rienced rider,  who  started  out  with  "  no 
faith  in  bevel  gears  "  gave  this  report :  "  I 
must  say  that  I  rode  this  distance  with  less 
effort  than  any  100  miles  I  ever  attempted 
before." 

A  slight  matter  which  is  still  worth  re- 
porting is  this  :  I  rode  all  about  the  streets 
of  Hartford  upon  the  chainless  wheel  with- 
out any  "trouser  clips,"  and  just  as  I 
stepped  upon  the  machine  from  the  street. 
There  seems  not  the  slightest  opportunity 
for  any  part  of  the  machine  to  catch  in 
your  clothes. 

The  absence  of  the  chain  guard  must  be 
inexpressibly  welcome  to  women,  for  with 
this  comes  the  assurance  that  no  flapping 
of  skirts  will  hereafter  result  in  a  sometimes 
perilously  sudden  and  involuntary  dismount. 

It  must  be  clear  from  what  I  have  said 
thus  far  that  my  experience  with  the  chain- 
less wheel  has  left  me  without  a  doubt  that 
it  is  the  wheel  of  the  future.     Were  it  on 


I--*.       _*.      iL- 


The  importance  of  this  marked  step  in 
advance  seems  to  me  exactly  comparable 
to  the  difference  between  an  enclosed  and 
open  crank-shaft,  axles  and  ball  bearings. 
If  it  is  important  that  these  last  should  be 
shut  in  and  protected  from  exposure  to 
weather  and  dust  and  mud,  it  seems  to  me 
it  is  quite  as  important  that  the  rest  of  the 
driving  gear  should  be  equally  protected. 

For  the  rest,  I  do  not  believe  that  any 
one  can  go  over  the  ground  as  carefully 
as  I  have  done  and  not  come  to  the  belief 
that  the  bevel  gear  is  the  simplest,  safest, 
cleanest,  most  economical,  and  most  durable 
form  of  power  transmission  that  has  yet 
been  used  in  bicycle  construction  ;  that  for 
come-as-it-may  riding  it  gives  a  maximum 
of  speed  for  a  minimum  of  effort;  and, 
lastly,  that  in  the  Columbia  Chainless  the 
Pope  Manufacturing  Company  has  pro- 
duced a  practically  perfect  wheel.  It  rep- 
resents to  me  the  highest  achievement  of 
mechanical  genius  in  this  field.  More 
could  hardly  be  said. 

The  cost  of  construction,  and  conse- 
quently the  price  at  which  it  must  be  sold, 
seems  the  only  possible  bar  to  its  universal 
use. 


THK  COMPLETE   BbVKL-GBAR   MBCHAN1SM. 


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From  a  recent  photograph  by  Alfred  Ellis,  London.     Copyrighted. 


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McClure's  Magazine. 


Vol.  X. 


NOVEMBER,  1897. 


No.  1. 


FROM    INDIA   TO    SOUTH    AFRICA. 

THE    DIARY    OF    A    VOYAGE. 


Bv  Mark  Twain, 

Author  of  "  The  Innocents  Abroad,"  "  Adventures  of  Tom  Sawyer,"  etc. 

A  TRUTHFUL  CAPTAIN  WHOM  NOBODY  WOULD  BELIEVE,  AND  A  FABLING 
PASSENGER  WHOM  NOBODY  WOULD  DISCREDIT.— A  STEAMSHIP  LIBRARY 
PERFECT  IN  ITS  OMISSIONS.— THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  LIVING  AWAY  FROM 
MAURITIUS.— BARNUM'S   PURCHASE   OF    SHAKESPEARE'S   BIRTHPLACE. 


I. 


There  are  no  people  who  are  quite  so  vulgar  as 
the  over-refined  ones. — Pudd*  ahead  Wilsons  New 
Calendar. 


W 


'E  sailed  from  Cal- 
cutta toward  the 
end  o  f  March  ; 
stopped  a  day  at  Madras; 
two  or  three  days  in  Cey- 
lon; then  sailed  westward 
on  a  long  flight  for  Mau- 
ritius.    From  my  diary: 

April  7th. — We  are  far 
abroad  upon  the  smooth 
waters  of  the  Indian 
Ocean  now;  it  is  shady 
and  pleasant  and  peaceful 
under  the  vast  spread  of 
the  awnings,  and  life  is 
perfect  again — ideal. 

The  difference  between 
a  river  and  the  sea  is, 
that  the  river  looks  fluid, 
the  sea  solid — usu- 
ally looks  as  if  you 
could  step  out  and 
walk  on  it. 

The  captain  has 
this  peculiarity — he 
cannot  tell  the  truth  in  a  plausible  way. 
In  this  he  is  the  very  opposite  of  the  au- 
stere Scot  who  sits  midway  of  the  table: 


'  A  Ftmmit  Vntle. 


he  cannot  tell  a  lie  in  an  ««-plausible  way. 
When  the  captain  finishes  a  statement  the 
passengers  glance  at  each  other  privately, 
as  who  should  say,  "  Do  you  believe 
that?" 

When  the  Scot  finishes  one,  the  look 
says,  4I  How  strange  and  interesting  !  " 
The  whole  secret  is  in  the  manner  and 
method  of  the  two  men. 

The  captain  is  a  little  shy  and  diffident, 
and  he  states  the  simplest  fact  as  if  he 
were  a  little  afraid  of  it,  while  the  Scot 
delivers  himself  of  the  most  abandoned 
lie  with  such  an  air  of  stern  veracity  that 
one  is  forced  to  believe  it  although  one 
knows  it  isn't  so.  .  For  instance,  the  Scot 
told  about  a  pet  flying-fish  he  once  owned, 
that  lived  in  a  little  fountain  in  his  con- 
servatory, and  supported  itself  by  catch- 
ing birds  and  frogs  and  rats  in  the  neigh- 
boring fields.  It  was  plain  that  no  one  at 
the  table  doubted  this  statement. 

By  and  by,  in  the  course  of  some  talk 
about  custom-house  annoyances,  the  cap- 
tain brought  out  the  following  simple, 
everyday  incident,  but  through  his  infirm- 
ity of  style,  managed  to  tell  it  in  such  a 
way  that  it  got  no  credence.     He  said: 

"I  went  ashore  at  Naples  one  voyage 
when  I  was  in  that  trade,  and  stood  around 
helping  my  passengers,  for  I  could  speak 
a  little  Italian.  Two  or  three  times,  at 
intervals,  the  officer  asked  me  if  I  had  any- 


Copyright,  1897,  by  the  S.  S.  McClure  Co.    AH  rights  reserved. 


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FROM  INDIA    TO  SOUTH  AFRICA. 


thing  dutiable  about  me,  and  seemed  more 
and  more  put  out  and  disappointed  every 
time  I  told  him  no.  Finally  a  passenger 
whom  I  had  helped  through  asked  me  to 
come  out  and  take  something.  I  thanked 
him,  but  excused  myself,  saying  I  had 
taken  a  whisky  just  before  I  came  ashore. 

"  It  was  a  fatal  admission.    The 
officer  at  once  made  me  pay 
pence  import  duty  on  the  w\ 
— just  from  ship  to  shore,  you 
and  he  fined  me  five  pounds 
for     not     declaring     the 
goods,  another  five  pounds 
for    falsely   denying   that 
I    had    anything   dutiable 
about  me,  also  five  pounds 
for  concealing  the  goods,  and 
pounds   for   smuggling,  whi 
the  maximum  penalty  for  ui 
fully  bringing  in  goods  under  tne 
value   of    sevenpence    ha'penny. 
Altogether,  sixty-five  pounds  six- 
pence, for  a  little  thing  like  that!  " 

The  Scot  is  always  believed,  yet 
he  never  tells  anything  but  lies; 
whereas  the  captain  is  never  be- 
lieved, although  he  never  tells  a 
lie — so  far  as  I  can  judge.     If  he 
should  say  his  uncle  was  a  male 
person,  he  would  probably  say  it 
in  such  a  way  that  no- 
body would  believe  it; 
at  the  same  time  the 
Scot  could  claim  that 
he  had  a  female  uncle 
and  not  stir  a  doubt  in 
anybody's  mind.     My 
own  luck  has  been  cu- 
rious  all    my   literary 
life:  I  never  could  tell 
a     lie    that    anybody 
would   doubt,   nor  a  truth   that  anybody 
would  believe. 

Lots  of  pets  on  board — birds  and 
things.  In  these  far  countries  the  white 
people  do  seem  to  run  remarkably  to  pets. 
Our  host  in  Cawnpore  had  a  fine  collec- 
tion of  birds — the  finest  we  saw  in  a  pri- 
vate house  in  India.  And  in  Colombo, 
Dr.  Murray's  great  compound  and  com- 
modious bungalow  were  well  populated 
with  domesticated  company  from  the 
woods:  frisky  little  squirrels;  a  Ceylon 
mina  walking  sociably  about  the  house;  a 
small  green  parrot,  that  whistled  a  single 
urgent  note  of  call  without  motion  of  its 
beak,  also  chuckled;  a  monkey  in  a  cage 
on  the  back  veranda,  and  some  more  out 
in  the  trees;  also  a  number  of  beautiful 
macaws  in  the  trees;  and  various  and  sun- 


'  Yet  a  eat  would  have  HJked  that  place. 


dry  birds  and  animals  of  breeds  not  known 
to  me.  But  no  cat.  Yet  a  cat  would  have 
liked  that  place. 

April  gth. — Tea-planting  is  the  great 
business  in  Ceylon  now.  A  passenger 
says  it  often  pays  forty  per  cent,  on  the 
investment.     Says  there  is  a  boom. 

April  ioth. — The  sea  is  a 

Mediterranean  blue;  and  I 

believe  that  that  is  about 

.     the  divinest  color  known 

to  nature. 

It  is  strange  and  fine — 
ture's  lavish  generosities  to  her 
matures.      At   least    to   all   of 
ixti   except    man.       For  those 
it  fly  she  has  provided  a  home 
it  is  nobly  spacious — a  home 
which  is  forty  miles  deep  and 
envelops  the  whole  globe,  and 
has  not  an  obstruction  in  it. 
For  those  that  swim  she  has 
provided  a  more  than  imperial 
domain    which    is  miles  deep 
and    covers    three-fifths    of     the 
globe.     But  as  for  man,  she  has 
cut  him  off  with  the  mere  odds  and 
ends   of    the   creation.     She    has 
given  him  the  thin  skin,  the  mea- 
ger skin  which  is  stretched  over 
the  remaining  two-fifths — the  na- 
ked bones  stick  up  through  it  in 
most  places.     On  the  one-half  of 
this  domain  he  can  raise  snow,  ice, 
sand,  rocks,  and  nothing  else.     So 
the  valuable  part  of  his  inheritance 
really  consists   of    but   a 
single  fifth  of  the  family 
estate  ;   and  out  of  it  he 
has  to  grub  hard  to  get 
enough  to  keep  him  alive 
and  provide  kings  and  sol- 
diers and  powder  to  extend  the  blessings 
of  civilization  with.     Yet  man,  in  his  sim- 
plicity and  complacency  and  inability  to 
cipher,  thinks  nature  regards  him  as  the 
important  member  of  the  family — in  fact, 
her  favorite.     Surely  it  must  occur  to  even 
his  dull   head,  sometimes,  that  she  has  a 
curious  way  of  showing  it. 

Afternoon. — The  captain  has  been  telling 
how,  in  one  of  his  Arctic  voyages,  it  was 
so  cold  that  the  mate's  shadow  froze  fast 
to  the  deck  and  had  to  be  ripped  loose 
by  main  strength.  And  even  then  he  got 
only  about  two-thirds  of  it  back.  Nobody 
said  anything,  and  the  captain  went  away. 
I  think  he  is  becoming  disheartened. 
.  .  .  Also,  to  be  fair,  there  is  another 
word  of  praise  due  to  this  ship's  library: 
it  contains  no  copy  of  the  "Vicar  of 
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'THE   MATE'S   SHADOW    FROZE    FAST   TO   THE   DECK." 


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FROM  INDIA    TO   SOUTH  AFRICA. 


••  Every  shade  of  complexion." 

Wakefield,"  that  strange  menagerie  of 
complacent  hypocrites  and  idiots,  of  the- 
atrical cheap-john  heroes  and  heroines 
who  are  always  showing  off,  of  bad  people 
who  are  not  interesting  and  good  people 
who  are  fatiguing.  A  singular  book!  Not 
a  sincere  line  in  it,  and  not  a  character 
that  invites  respect;  a  book  which  is  one 
long  waste-pipe  discharge  of  goody-goody 
puerilities  and  dreary  moralities;  a  book 
which  is  full  of  pathos  which  revolts  and 
humor  which  grieves  the  heart.  There 
are  few  things  in  literature  that  are  more 
piteous,  more  pathetic,  than  the  celebrated 
"humorous"  incident  of  Moses  and  the 
spectacles. 

Jane   Austin's   books,    too,    are   absent 
from  this  library.      Just  that  one  omis- 
sion alone  would  make  a  fairly  good  library 
out  of  a  library  that 
hodn't  a  book  in  it. 
Customs  in   tropic 
is:     At  five  in  the 
►rning  they  pipe  to 
sh  down  the  decks, 
i   at  once  the  la- 
:s  who  are  sleeping 
ire   turn    out,  and 
jy  and    their  beds 
below.     Then  one 
er  another  the  men 
ne    up    from    the 
th    in    their    paja- 
s,    and    walk    the 
:ks  an  hour  or  two 
:h    bare    legs   and 
re  feet.    Coffee  and 
it    served.       The 
ship  cat  and 
her  kitten 
now    appear 
and      get 
about     their 
toilets  ;  next 
the      barber 
comes      and 
flays    us    on 
the      breezy 
deck.  Break- 


er 


*  Onh  one  match  in  sixteen  ut'i/  light.' 


fast  at  9:30,  and  the  day  begins.  I  do 
not  know  how  a  day  could  be  more 
reposeful;  no  motion;  a  level  blue  sea; 
nothing  in  sight  from  horizon  to  hori- 
zon ;  the  speed  of  the  ship  furnishes  a 
cooling  breeze  ;  there  is  no  mail  to  read 
and  answer  ;  no  newspapers  to  excite 
you;  no  telegrams  to  fret  you  or  fright 
you — the  world  is  far,  far  away  ;  it  has 
ceased  to  exist  for  you — seemed  a  fad- 
ing dream,  along  in  the  first  days  ;  has 
dissolved  to  an  unreality  now;  it  is  gone 
from  your  mind  with  all  its  businesses  and 
ambitions,  its  prosperities  and  disasters, 
its  exultations  and  despairs,  its  joys  and 
griefs  and  cares  and  worries.  They  are 
no  concern  of  yours  any  more;  they  have 
gone  out  of  your  life;  they  are  a  storm 
which  has  passed  and  left  a  deep  calm 
behind.  The  people  group  themselves 
about  the  decks  in  their  snowy  white  linen, 
and  read,  smoke,  sew,  play  cards,  talk, 
nap,  and  so  on.  In  other  ships  the  pas- 
sengers are  always  ciphering  about  when 
they  are  going  to  arrive;  out  in  these  seas 
it  is  rare,  very  rare,  to  hear  that  subject 
broached.  In  other  ships  there  is  always 
an  eager  rush  to  the  bulletin  board  at 
noon  to  find  out  what  the  "run"  has  been; 
in  these  seas  the  bulletin  seems  to  attract 
no  interest;  I  have  seen  no  one  visit  it;  in 
thirteen  days  I  have  visited  it  only  once. 
Then  I  happened  to  notice  the  figures  of 
the  day's  run.  On  that  day  there  hap- 
pened to  be  talk,  at  dinner,  about  the 
speed  of  modern  ships.  I  was  the  only 
passenger  present  who  knew  this  ship's 
gait.  Necessarily  the  Atlantic  custom  of 
betting  on  the  ship's  run  is  not  a  custom 
here — nobody  ever  mentions  it. 

I  myself  am  wholly  indifferent  as  to 
when  we  are  going  to  "get  in;"  if  any 
one  else  feels  interested  in  the  matter  he 
has  not  indicated  it  in  my  hearing.  If  I 
had  my  way  we  should  never  get  in  at  all. 
This  sort  of  sea  life  is  charged  with  an 
indestructible  charm.  There  is  no  weari- 
ness, no  fatigue,  no  worry,  no  responsi- 
bility, no  work,  no  depression  of  spirits. 

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MARK   TWAIN. 


There  is  nothing  like  this  serenity,  this 
comfort,  this  peace,  this  deep  contentment, 
to  be  found  anywhere  on  land.  If  I  had 
my  way  I  would  sail  on  forever  and  never 
go  to  live  on  the  solid  ground  again. 

One  of  Kipling's  ballads  has  delivered 
the  aspect  and  senti- 
ment of  this  bewitch- 
ing sea  correctly: 

14  The    Injian   Ocean   sets 
an'  smiles 
So  sof  \  so  bright,  so 
bloomin'  blue  ; 
There  aren't  a  wave  for     * 
miles  an*  miles  * 

Excep'  the  jiggle  from 
the  screw." 

April  14th.— -It 
turns  out  that  the  as- 
tronomical apprentice 
worked  off  a  section 
of  the  Milky  Way  on 
me  for  the  Magellan 
Clouds.  A  man  of 
more  experience  in 
the  business  showed 
one  of  them  to  me 
last  night.  It  was 
small  and  faint  and 
delicate,  and  looked 
like  the  ghost  of  a 
bunch  of  white  smoke 
left  floating  in  the 
sky  by  an  exploded 
bombshell. 

Wednesday,       April 
fj/A,  Mauritius. — Ar- 
rived and  anchored  off 
Port   Louis  two  a.m. 
Rugged    clusters    of 
crags      and      peaks, 
green    to    their   sum- 
mits; from  their  bases 
to  the  sea  a  green  plain  with  just  tilt  enough 
to  it  to  make  the  water  drain  off.    I  believe  it 
is  in  56  E.  and  22  S. — a  hot,  tropical  coun- 
try.    The  green  plain  has  an  inviting  look ; 
has  scattering   dwellings  nestling  among 
the  greenery.      Scene  of  the  sentimental 
adventure  of  Paul  and  Virginia. 


The  wtttfst  climate  on  earth. 


"  Every  shade  of  complexion." 

Island  under  French  control  —  which 
means  a  community  which  depends  upon 
quarantines  for  its  health,  not  upon  sani- 
tation. 

Thursday,  April  16th. — Went  ashore  in 
the  forenoon  at  Port  Louis — a  little  town, 
but  with  the  largest 
variety  of  nationali- 
ties and  complexions 
we  have  encountered 
yet:  French,  English, 
Chinese,  Arabs,  Afri- 
cans with  wool,  blacks 
with  straight  hair, 
East  Indians,  half- 
whites,  quadroons — 
and  great  varieties  in 
costumes  and  colors. 
Took  the  train  for 
Curepipe  at  1:30 — 
two  hours'  run,  grad- 
ually up  hill.  What  a 
contrast,  this  frantic 
luxuriance  of  vege- 
tation, with  the  arid 
plains  of  India;  these 
architecturally  pictur- 
esque crags  and  knobs 
and  miniature  moun- 
tains, with  the  monot- 
ony of  the  Indian 
dead-levels! 

A    native    pointed 
out    a   handsome 
swarthy  man  of  grave 
and  dignified  bearing, 
and  said  in  an  awed 
tone,    "  That    is   So- 
and-so;  has  held  office 
of  one  sort  or  another 
under     this     govern- 
ment for  thirty-seven 
years — he    is    known 
all  over  this  whole  island — and  in  the  other 
countries    of    the    world    perhaps  —  who 
knows  ?     One  thing    is  certain  ;    you  can 
speak  his   name   anywhere   in   this  whole 
island,  and  you  will   find   not  one  grown 
person  that  has  not  heard  it.     It  is  a  won- 
derful thing  to  be  so  celebrated;  yet  look 
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FROM  INDIA    TO  SOUTH  AFRICA. 


at  him;  it  makes  no  change  in  him  ;  he 
does  not  even  seem  to  know  it." 

Curepipe  (means  Pincushion,  or  Peg- 
town,  probably). — Sixteen  miles  (two 
hours)  by  rail  from  Port  Louis.  At  each 
end  of  every  roof  and  on  the  apex  of 
every  dormer  window  a  wooden  peg  two 
feet  high  stands  up;  in  some  cases  its  top 
is  blunt,  in  others  the  peg  is  sharp  and 
looks  like  a  toothpick.  The  passion  for 
this  humble  ornament  is  universal. 

Apparently  there  has  been  only  one 
prominent  event  in  the  history  of  Mauri- 
tius, and  that  one  didn't  happen.  I  refer 
to  the  romantic  sojourn  of  Paul  and  Vir- 
ginia here.  It  was  that  story  that  made 
Mauritius  known  to  the  world,  made  the 
name  familiar  to  everybody,  the  geographi- 
cal position  of  it  to  nobody. 

A  clergyman  was  asked  to  guess  what 
was  in  a  box  on  a  table.  It  was  a  vellum 
fan  painted  with  the  shipwreck,  and  was 
' 4  one  of  Virginia's  wedding  gifts.  * ' 

April  18th. — This  is  the  only  country  in 
the  world  where  the  stranger  is  not  asked 

44  How  do  you 
like  this  place?" 
This  is  indeed 
a  large  distinc- 
tion. Here  the 
citizen  does  the 
talking  about 
the  country 
himself;  the 
stranger  is  not 
asked  to  help. 
You  get  all  sorts 
of  information. 
From  one  citi- 
zen you  gather 
the  idea  that 
Mauritius  was 
made  first,  and 
then  heav- 
e  n  ;  and 
that  heav- 
en was  cop- 
ied after 
Mauritius. 
Another  one  tells  you  that  this  is  an 
exaggeration;  that  the  two  chief  villages, 
Port  Louis  and  Curepipe,  fall  short  of 
heavenly  perfection;  that  nobody  lives  in 
Port  Louis  except  upon  compulsion,  and 
that  Curepipe  is  the  wettest  and  rainiest 
place  in  the  world.  An  English  citizen 
said: 

44  In  the  early  part  of  this  century  Mau- 
ritius was  used  by  the  French  as  a  basis 
from  which  to  operate  against  England's 
Indian    merchantmen;    so    England    cap- 


tured the  island  and  also  the  neighbor, 
Bourbon,  to  stop  that  annoyance.  Eng- 
land gave  Bourbon  back;  the  government 
in  London  did  not  want  any  more  posses- 
sions in  the  West  Indies.  If  the  govern- 
ment had  had  a  better  quality  of  geography 
in  stock  it  would  not  have  wasted  Bourbon 
in  that  foolish  way.  A  big  war  will  tem- 
porarily shut  up  the  Suez  Canal  some  day, 
and  the  English  ships  will  have  to  go  to 
India  around  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope 
again;  then  England  will  have  to  have 
Bourbon  and  will  take  it. 

"  Mauritius  was  a  crown  colony  until 
twenty  years  ago,  with  a  governor  ap- 
pointed by  the  crown  and  assisted  by  a 
council  appointed  by  himself;  but  Pope 
Hennessey  came  out  as  governor  then, 
and  he  worked  hard  to  get  a  part  of  the 
council  made  elective,  and  succeeded. 
So  now  the  whole  council  is  French,  and 
in  all  ordinary  matters  of  legislation  they 
vote  together  and  in  the  French  interest, 
not  the  English.  The  English  population 
is  very  slender;  it -has  not  votes  enough  to 
elect  a  legislato?.  Half  a  dozen  rich 
French  families  elect  the  legislature.  Pope 
Hennessey  was  an  Irishman,  a  Catholic,  a 
Home  Ruler  M.  P.,  a  hater  of  England 
and  the  English,  a  very  troublesome  per- 
son, and  a  serious  incumbrance  at  West- 
minster. So  it  was  decided  to  send  him 
out  to.  govern  unhealthy  countries,  in  the 
hope  that  something  would  happen  to  him. 
But  nothing  did.  The  first  experiment  was 
not  merely  a  failure,  it  was  more  than  a 
failure.  He  proved  to  be  more  of  a  disease 
himself  than  any  he  was  sent  to  encoun- 
ter. The  next  experiment  was  here.  The 
dark  scheme  failed  again.  It  was  an  off 
season,  and  there  was  nothing  but  measles 
here  at  the  time.  Pope  Hennessey's 
health  was  not  affected.  He  worked 
with  the  French  and  for  the  French  and 
against  the  English,  and  he  made  the  Eng- 
lish very  tired  and  the  French  very  happy, 
and  lived  to  have  the  joy  of  seeing  the 
flag  he  served  publicly  hissed.  His  mem- 
ory is  held  in  worshipful  reverence  and 
affection  by  the  French. 

44  It  is  a  land  of  extraordinary  quaran- 
tines. They  quarantine  a  ship  for  any- 
thing or  for  nothing;  quarantine  her  for 
twenty  and  even  thirty  days.  They  once 
quarantined  a  ship  because  her  captain 
had  had  the  smallpox  when  he  was  a  boy. 
That  and  because  he  was  English. 

44  The  population  is  very  small ;  small  to 
insignificance.  The  majority  is  East  In- 
dian; then  mongrels;  then  negroes  (de- 
scendants  of    the   slaves   of   the    French 


Digitized  by 


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MARK   TWAIN. 


'•the  barber 


FI.AYS    US    ON    THE    BREEZV    DECK. 


times);  then  French,  then  English.  There 
was  an  American,  but  he  is  dead  or  mis- 
laid. The  mongrels  are  the  result  of  all 
kinds  of  mixtures;  black  and  white,  mu- 
latto and  white,  quadroon  and  white,  oc- 
toroon and  white.  And  so  there  is  every 
shade  of  complexion;  ebony,  old  mahog- 
any, horse-chestnut,  sorrel,  molasses- 
candy,  clouded  amber,  clear  amber,  old- 
ivory  white,  new-ivory  white,  fish-belly 
white — this  latter  the  leprous  complexion 
frequent  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  long  resi- 
dent in  tropical  climates. 

"You  wouldn't  expect  a  person  to  be 
proud  of  being  a  Mauritian,  now,  would 
you  ?  But  it  is  so.  The  most  of  them 
have  never  been  out  of  the  island,  and 
haven't  read  much  or  studied  much;  they 
think  the  world  consists  of  three  principal 
countries — Judea,  France,  and  Mauritius; 
so  they  are  very  proud  of  belonging  to 
one  of  the  three  grand  divisions  of  the 
globe.      They  think  that  Russia  and  Ger- 


many are  in  England,  and  that  England 
does  not  amount  to  much.  They  have 
heard  vaguely  about  the  United  States  and 
the  equator,  but  they  think  both  of  them 
are  monarchies.  They  think  Mount  Peter 
Botte  is  the  highest  mountain  in  the  world, 
and  if  you  show  one  of  them  a  picture  of 
Milan  Cathedral,  he  will  swell  up  with 
satisfaction  and  say  that  the  idea  of  that 
jungle  of  spires  was  stolen  from  the  forest 
of  pegtops  and  toothpicks  that  makes  the 
roofs  of  Curepipe  look  so  fine  and  prickly. 

"There  is  not  much  trade  in  books. 
The  newspapers  educate  and  entertain  the 
people.  Mainly  the  latter.  They  have 
two  pages  of  large-print  reading  matter — 
one  of  them  English,  the  other  French. 
The  English  page  is  a  translation  of  the 
French  one.  The  typography  is  super- 
extra  primitive;  in  this  quality  it  has  not 
its  equal  anywhere.  There  is  no  proof- 
reader now;  he  is  dead. 

"  Where  do  they  get  matter  to  fill  up  a 
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IO 


FROM  INDIA    TO   SOUTH  AFRICA. 


page  in  this  little  island  lost  in  the  wastes 
of  the  Indian  Ocean  ?  Oh,  Madagascar. 
They  discuss  Madagascar  and  France. 
That  is  the  bulk.  Then  they  chock  up 
the  rest  with  advice  to  the  government. 
Also,  slurs  upon  the  English  administra-  here. 
tion.  The  papers  are  all  owned  and  ed-  "Many  copies  of  'Paul  and  Virginia* 
ited  by  Creoles — French.  are   sold   every    year  in   Mauritius.      No 

"  The  language  of  the  country  is  French,    other  book  is  so  popular  here  except  the 
Everybody  speaks  it — has  to.     You  have    Bible.     By  many  it   is  supposed  to  be  a 


know,  in  these  days,  when  a  country  be- 
gins to  introduce  the  tea  culture,  it  means 
that  its  own  specialty  has  gone  back  on  it. 
Look  at  Bengal;  look  at  Ceylon.  Well, 
they've  begun  to  introduce  the  tea  culture 


to  know  French — 
particularly  mon- 
grel French,  the 
patois  spoken  by 
Tom,  Dick,  and 
Harry  of  the  mul 
tiform  complex 
ions — or  you  can't 
get  along. 

"This  was  a 
flourishing  country 
in  former  days,  for 
it  made  then  and 
still  makes  the  best 
sugar  in  the  world; 
but  first  the  Suez 
Canal  severed  it 
from  the  world  and 
left  it  out  in  the 
cold,  and  next  the 
beet  root  sugar, 
helped  by  bounties, 
captured  the  Euro- 
pean markets.  Su- 
gar is  the  life  of 
Mauritius,  and  it  is 
losing  its  grip.  Its 
downward  course 
was  checked  by  the 
depreciation  of  the 
r  u  p  e  e — f  o  r  t  h  e 

planter  payS  WageS        "  Tke  third  year  they  ao  not  gather  sket/s 

in  rupees,  but  sells 

his  crop  for  gold — and  the  insurrection  in 
Cuba  and  paralyzation  of  the  sugar  indus- 
try there  have  given  our  prices  here  a  life- 
saving  lift;  but  the  outlook  has  nothing 
permanently  favorable  about  it.  It  takes 
a  year  to  mature  the  canes — on  the  high 
ground,  three  and  six  months  longer — and 
there  is  always  a  chance  that  the  annual 
cyclone  will  rip  the  profit  out  of  the  crop. 
In  recent  times  a  cyclone  took  the  whole 
crop,  as  you  may  say;  and  the  island 
never  saw  a  finer  one.  Some  of  the 
noblest  sugar  estates  in  the  island  are  in 
deep  difficulties.  A  dozen  of  them  are 
investments  of  English  capital;  and  the 
companies  that  own  them  are  at  work  now 
trying  to  settle  up  and  get  out  with  a  sav- 
ing of  half  the  money  they  put  in.      You 


part  of  the  Bible. 
All  the  missiona- 
ries work  up  their 
French  on  it  when 
they  come  here  to 
pervert  the  Catho- 
lic mongrel.  It  is 
the  greatest  story 
that  was  ever  writ- 
ten about  Mauri- 
tius, and  the  only 
one." 

II. 

The  principal  differ- 
ence between  a  cat  and 
a  lie  is  that  the  cat  has 
only  nine  lives. — Pud- 
d'nhead  Wilson  s  Xew 
Calendar. 


April  20th. — The 
cyclone  of  1892 
killed  and  crippled 
hundreds  of  peo- 
ple; it  was  accom- 
panied by  a  deluge 
of  rain  which 
drowned  Port 
*"  Louis  and  produced 

a     water    famine. 
Quite  true;    for  it 
burst  the  reservoir 
and  the  water-pipes;  and  for  a  time  after 
the  flood  had  disappeared  there  was  much 
distress  from  want  of  water. 

This  is  the  only  place  in  the  world 
where  no  breed  of  matches  can  stand  the 
damp.  Only  one  match  in  sixteen  will 
light. 

The  roads  are  hard  and  smooth;  some 
of  the  compounds  are  spacious,  some  of 
the  bungalows  commodious,  and  the  road- 
ways are  walled  by  tall  bamboo  hedges, 
trim  and  green  and  beautiful;  and  there 
are  azalea  hedges,  too,  both  the  white 
and  the  red.     I  never  saw  that  before. 

As  to  healthiness:  I  translate  from  to- 
day's (April  20th)  "  Merchants'  and  Plant- 
ers' Gazette,"  from  the  article  of  a  regu- 
lar contributor,  "  Carminge,"  concerning 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


MARK   TWAIN. 


the  death  of  the  nephew  of  a  prominent 
citizen. 

"  Sad  and  lugubrious  existence,  this 
which  we  lead  in  Mauritius;  I  believe 
there  is  no  other  country  in  the  world 
where  one  dies  more  easily  than  among 
us.  The  least  indisposition  becomes  a 
mortal  malady;  a  simple  headache  devel- 
ops into  meningitis;  a  cold  into  pneumo- 
nia, and  presently,  when  we  are  least  ex- 
pecting it,  death  is  a  guest  in  our  home." 

This  daily  paper  has  a  meteorological 
report  which  tells  you  what  the  weather 
was  day  before  yesterday. 

One  is  never  pestered  by  a  beggar  or  a 
peddler  in  this  town,  so  far  as  I  can  see. 
This  is  pleasantly  different  from  India. 

April  22d. — To  such  as  believe  that  the 
quaint  product  called  French  civilization 
would  be  an  improvement  upon  the  civili- 
zation of  New  Guinea  and  the  like,  the 
snatching  of  Madagascar  and  the  laying 
on  of  French  civilization  there  will  be  fully 
justified.  But  why  did  England  allow  the 
French  to  have  Madagascar  ?  Did  she 
respect  a  theft  of  a  couple  of  centuries 
ago  ?  Dear  me,  robbery  by  European 
nations  of  each  other's  territories  has 
never  been  a  sin,  is  not  a  sin  to-day.  To 
the  several  cabinets  the  several  political 
establishments  of  the  world  are  clothes- 
lines; and  a  large  part  of  the  official  duty 
of  these  cabinets  is  to  keep  an  eye  on  each 
other's  wash  and  grab  what  they  can  of  it 
as  opportunity  offers.  All  the  territorial 
possessions  of  all  the  political  establish- 
ments   in  the   earth — including  America, 


of  course— consist  of  pilferings  from  other 
people's  wash.  No  tribe,  howsoever  in- 
significant, and  no  nation,  howsoever 
mighty,  occupies  a  foot  of  land  that  was 
not  stolen.  When  the  English,  the  French, 
and  the  Spaniards  reached  America,  the 
Indian  tribes  had  been  raiding  each  other's 
territorial  clothes-iines  forages,  and  every 
acre  of  ground  in  the  continent  had  been 
stolen  and  re-stolen  five  hundred  times. 
The  English,  the  French,  and  the  Span- 
iards went  to  work  and  stole  it  all  over 
again;  and  when  that  was  satisfactorily 
accomplished  they  went  diligently  to  work 
and  stole  it  from  each  other.  In  Europe 
and  Asia  and  Africa  every  acre  of  ground 
has  been  stolen  several  millions  of  times. 
A  crime  persevered  in  a  thousand  centu- 
ries ceases  to  be  a  crime,  and  becomes  a 
virtue.  This  is  the  law  of  custom,  and 
custom  supersedes  all  other  forms  of  law. 
Christian  governments  are  as  frank  to-day, 
as  open  and  above-board,  in  discussing 
projects  for  raiding  each  other's  clothes- 
lines as  ever  they  were  before  the  golden 
rule  came  smiling  into  this  inhospitable 
world  and  couldn't  get  a  night's  lodging 
anywhere.  In  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years  England  has  beneficently  retired 
garment  after  garment  from  the  Indian 
lines,  until  there  is  hardly  a  rag  of  the 
original  wash  left  dangling  anywhere.  In 
eight  hundred  years  an  obscure  tribe  of 
Muscovite  savages  has  risen  to  the  daz- 
zling position  of  land-robber-in-chief;  she 
found  a  quarter  of  the  world  hanging 
out  to  dry  on  a  hundred  parallels  of  lati- 
Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


12 


FROM  INDIA    TO   SOUTH  AFRICA. 


Resting  in  Euroft. 

tude,  and  she  scooped  in  the  whole  wash. 
She  keeps  a  sharp  eye  on  a  multitude  of 
little  lines  that  stretch  along  the  northern 
boundaries  of  India,  and  every  now  and 
then  she  snatches  a  hip-rag  or  a  pair  of 
pajamas.  It  is  England's  prospective 
property,  and  Russia  knows  it;  but  Russia 
cares  nothing  for  that.  In  fact,  in  our 
day,  land-robbery,  claim-jumping,  is  be- 
come a  European  governmental  frenzy. 
Some  have  been  hard  at  it  in  the  borders 
of  China,  in  Burma,  in  Siam,  and  the 
islands  of  the  sea;  and  all  have  been  at 
it  in  Africa.  Africa  has  been  as  coolly 
divided  up  and  portioned  out  among  the 
gang  as  if  they  had  bought  it  and  paid  for 
it.  And  now  straightway  they  are  begin- 
ning the  old  game  again — to  steal  each 
other's  grabbings.  Germany  found  a  vast 
slice  of  Central  Africa  with  the  English 
flag  and  the  English  missionary  and  the 
English  trader  scattered  all  over  it,  but 
with  certain  formalities  neglected — no 
signs  up,  "Keep  off  the  grass,"  "Tres- 
passers forbidden,"  etc. — and  she  stepped 
in  with  a  cold,  calm  smile,  and  put  up  the 
signs    herself,    and    swept    those    English 


pioneers  promptly  out  of    the 
country. 

There  is  a  tremendous  point 
there.  It  can  be  put  into  the 
form  of  a  maxim  :  Get  your 
formalities  right — never  mind 
about  the  moralities. 

It  was  an  impudent  thing, 
but  England  had  to  put  up 
with  it.  Now,  in  the  case  of 
Madagascar,  the  formalities 
had  originally  been  observed, 
but  by  neglect  they  had  fallen 
into  desuetude  ages  ago. 
England  should  have 
snatched  Madagascar  from 
the  French  clothes-line. 
Without  an  effort  she  could 
have  saved  those  harmless 
natives  from  the  calamity  of 
French  civilization,  and  she 
did  not  do  it.  Now  it  is  too 
late. 

The  signs  of  the  times  show 
•  plainly  enough  what   is  going 
to    happen.      All     the    savage 
lands  in  the  world  are  going 
to  be   brought    under  subjec- 
tion to  the  Christian  govern- 
ments of  Europe.      I  am  not 
sorry,    but    glad.      This  com- 
.  ing  fate  might    have    been    a 
calamity  to  those  savage  peo- 
ples two   hundred    years  ago, 
but    now    it    will    in    some    cases    be    a 
benefaction.     The   sooner   the  seizure    is 
consummated,  the  better  for  the  savages. 
The  dreary  and  dragging  ages  of  blood- 
shed  and    disorder    and    oppression    will 
give    place   to   peace   and   order  and    the 
reign  of  law.     When  one  considers  what 
India  was  under  her  Hindoo  and  Moham- 
medan   rulers,     and    what    she    is    now; 
when  he  remembers  the   miseries   of    her 
millions    then    and    the    protections    and 
humanities  which  they  enjoy  now,  he  must 
concede  that  the  most  fortunate  thing  that 
has  ever  befallen  that  empire  was  the  es- 
tablishment of    British  supremacy    there. 
The  savage  lands  of  the  world  are  to  pass 
to  alien  possession,   their  peoples  to  the 
mercies  of  alien  rulers.      Let  us  hope  and 
believe  that  they  will   all    benefit  by  the 
change.     .     .     . 

April  23d. — "  The  first  year  they  gather 
shells;  the  second  year  they  gather  shells 
and  drink ;  the  third  year  they  do  not  gather 
shells."  (Said  of  immigrants  to  Mau- 
ritius.) .  .  .  What  there  is  of  Mauritius 
is  beautiful.  You  have  undulating,  wide 
expanses  of  sugar  cane — a  fine,  fresh  green 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


MARK    TWAIN. 


13 


and  very  pleasant  to  the  eye;  and  every- 
where else  you  have  a  ragged  luxuriance  of 
tropic  vegetation  of  vivid  greens  of  varying 
shades,  a  wild  tangle  of  underbrush,  with 
graceful  tall  palms  lifting  their  plumes 
high  above  it;  and  you  have  stretches 
of  shady,  dense  forest  with  limpid  streams 
frolicking  through  them,  continually 
glimpsed  and  lost  and  glimpsed  again  in 
the  pleasantest  hide-and-seek  fashion;  and 
you  have  some  tiny  mountains,  some  quaint 
and  picturesque  groups  of  toy  peaks,  and 
a  dainty  little  vest-pocket  Matterhorn; 
and  here  and  there  and  now  and  then  a 
strip  of  sea  with  a  white  ruffle  of  surf 
breaks  into  the  view. 

That  is  Mauritius;  and  pretty  enough. 
The  details  are  few.  The  massed  result  is 
charming,  but  not  imposing;  not  riotous, 
not  exciting;  it  is  a  Sunday  landscape. 
Perspective,and  the  enchantments  wrought 
by  distance,  are  wanting.  There  are  no 
distances;  there  is  no  perspective,  so  to 
speak.  Fifteen  miles  as  the  crow  flies  is 
the  usual  limit  of  vision.  Mauritius  is  a 
garden  and  a  park  combined.  It  affects 
one's  emotions  as  parks  and  gardens  affect 
them.  The  surfaces  of  one's  spiritual 
deeps  are  pleasantly  played  upon,  the  deeps 


themselves  are  not  reached,  not  stirred. 
Spaciousness,  remote  altitudes,  the  sense 
of  mystery  which  haunts  apparently  inac- 
cessible mountain  domes  and  summits  re- 
posing in  the  sky — these  are  the  things 
which  exalt  the  spirit  and  move  it  to  see 
visions  and  dream  dreams. 

The  Sandwich  Islands  remain  my  ideal 
of  the  perfect  thing  in  the  matter  of  tropi- 
cal islands.  I  would  add  another  story 
to  Mauna  Loa's  sixteen  thousand  feet  if 
I  could,  and  make  it  particularly  bold  and 
steep  and  craggy  and  forbidding  and 
snowy;  and  I  would  make  the  volcano 
spout  its  lava-floods  out  of  its  summit 
instead  of  its  sides;  but  aside  from  these 
non-essentials,  I  have  no  corrections  to 
suggest.  I  hope  these  will  be  attended 
to;  I  do  not  wish  to  have  to  speak  of  it 
again. 

III. 

When  your  watch  gets  out  of  order  you  have 
choice  of  two  things  to  do :  throw  it  in  the  fire,  or 
take  it  to  the  watch-tinker.  The  former  is  the 
quickest. — Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  New  Calendar . 

The  "  Arundel  Castle  n  is  the  finest  boat 
I  have  seen   in  these  seas.     She  is  thor- 


*  fifteen  or  twenty  Africanders 


SAT   I'P   SINGING   ON   THE    AKTKRDECK.    IN   TUB    MOONLIGHT,    TILL   THRF.R    A.M 

Digitized  by 


14 


FROM  INDIA    TO  SOUTH  AFRICA. 


oughly  modern;  and  that  statement  covers 
a  great  deal  of  ground.  She  has  the  usual 
defect,  the  common  defect,  the  uni- 
versal defect,  the  defect  that  has  never 
been  missing  from  any  ship  that  ever 
sailed:  she  has  imperfect  beds.  Many 
ships  have  good  beds,  but  no  ship  has  very 
good  ones.  In  the  matter  of  beds  all 
ships  have  been  badly  edited,  ignorantly 


and  receiving  worrying  cables  and  letters. 
And  a  sea  voyage  on  the  Atlantic  is  of  no 
use — voyage  too  short,  sea  too  rough.  The 
peaceful  Indian  and  Pacific  oceans  and  the 
long  stretches  of  time  are  the  healing  thing. 

May  2d,  a.m. — A  fair,  great  ship  in  sight 
— almost  the  first  we  have  seen  in  these 
weeks  of  lonely  voyaging.     .     .     . 

Last   night   the    burly  chief    engineer, 


*  FIFTY   INDIANS  AND   CHINAMEN   SLEEP   IN   A    BIG  TENT   IN   THE  WAIST  OF  THE  SHIP  FORWARD. 


edited,  from  the  beginning.  The  selec- 
tion of  the  beds  is  given  to  some  hearty, 
strong-backed,  self-made  man,  when  it 
ought  to  be  given  to  a  frail  woman  accus- 
tomed from  girlhood  to  backaches  and 
insomnia.  Nothing  is  so  rare,  on  either 
side  of  the  ocean,  as  a  perfect  bed,  nothing 
is  so  difficult  to  make.  Some  of  the  hotels 
on  both  sides  provide  it,  but  no  ship  ever 
does  or  ever  did.  In  Noah's  Ark  the  beds 
were  simply  scandalous.  Noah  set  the 
fashion,  and  it  will  endure  in  one  degree  of 
modification  or  another  till  the  next  flood. 

8  a.m.  —  Passing  Isle  de  Bourbon. 
Broken-up  sky-line  of  volcanic  mountains 
in  the  middle.  Surely  it  would  not  cost 
much  to  repair  them,  and  it  seems  inexcus- 
able neglect  to  leave  them  as  they  are. 

It  seems  stupid  to  send  tired  men  to 
Europe  to  rest.  It  is  no  proper  rest  for 
the  mind  to  clatter  from  town  to  town,  in 
the  dust  and  cinders,  and  examine  galleries 
and  architecture  and  be  always  meeting 
people  and  lunching  and  teaingand  dining, 


middle-aged,  was  standing  telling  a  spir- 
ited seafaring  tale,  and  had  reached  the 
most  exciting  place — where  a  man  over- 
board was  washing  swiftly  astern  on  the 
great  seas  and  uplifting  despairing  cries, 
everybody  racing  aft  in  a  frenzy  of  excite- 
ment and  fading  hope — when  the  band, 
which  had  been  silent  a  moment,  began 
impressively  its  closing  piece,  the  English 
national  anthem.  As  simply  as  if  he  was 
unconscious  of  what  he  was  doing,  he 
stopped  his  story,  uncovered,  laid  his  laced 
cap  against  his  breast,  and  slightly  bent  his 
grizzled  head;  the  few  bars  finished,  he 
put  on  his  cap  and  took  up  his  tale  again 
as  naturally  as  if  that  interjection  of 
music  had  been  a  part  of  it.  There  was 
something  touching  and  fine  about  it,  and 
it  was  moving  to  reflect  that  he  was  one 
of  a  myriad,  scattered  over  every  part  of 
the  globe,  who  by  turn  were  doing  as  he 
was  doing,  every  hour  of  the  twenty-four 
— those  awake  doing  it  while  the  others 
slept — those  impressive  bars  forever  float- 
Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


MARK    TWAIN, 


lS 


ing  up  out  of  the  various  climes,  never 
silent  and  never  lacking  reverent  listeners. 
All  that  I  remember  about  Madagascar 
is  that  Thackeray's  little  Billee  went  up  to 
the  top  of  the  mast  and  there  knelt  him 
upon  his  knee,  saying, 

I  see 

Jerusalem  and  Madagas- 
car, 

And  North  and  South 
Amerikee. 

May  jd,    Sunday. 
— Fifteen  or  twenty 
Africanders     who 
will    end    their 
voyage    to-day  and 
strike  for  their  sev- 
eral     homes     from 
Delagoa     Bay     to- 
morrow, sat  up  singing 
afterdeck  in  the  moonli 
3  a.m.      Good  fun  and 
some.     And  the  song 
clean    songs,    and    so 
hallowed    by    their    t 
Finally,  in  a  pause,  a 
had  heard  a  certain  ol 
lowly  anecdote.     It  w 
blanket.     The  men  w 
for  humorous  dirt.    Tl 
them  to  their  homes,  a 
by  those  far  hearthston 
heard  voices  other  th 
about  them.       The  p< 
enough  to  see  that  he 
asked  his  question  aga 
no  response.   It  was  embarrassing  tor  him. 
In   his   confusion    he    chose    the    wrong 
course,  did  the  wrong  thing — began   the 
anecdote.     Began  it  in  a  deep  and  hostile 
stillness,   where  had  been   such   life   and 
stir  and  warm  comradeship  before.     The 
two  rows  of  men  sat  like  statues.     There 
was  no  movement,  no  sound.    He  had  to  go 
on ;  there  was  no  other  way — at  least  none 
that  an  animal  of  his  caliber  could  think  of. 
When  at  last  he  finished  his  tale,   which 
is  wont  to  fetch  a  crash  of  laughter,  not  a 
ripple  of  sound  resulted.     It  was  as  if  the 
tale  had  been  told  to  dead  men.     After 
what  seemed  a  long,  long  time,  somebody 
sighed,  somebody  else  stirred  in  his  seat; 
presently   the   men   dropped    into   a   low 
murmur  of  confidential  talk,  each  with  his 
neighbor,    and   the   incident  was   closed. 
There  were  indications  that  that  man  was 
fond  of  his  anecdote;  that  it  was  his  pet, 
his  standby,  his  shot  that  never  missed, 
his  reputation-maker.      But  he  will  never 
tell  it  again.     No  doubt  he  will   think  of 


it  sometimes,  for  that  cannot  well  be 
helped;  and  then  he  will  see  a  picture — and 
always  the  same  picture:  the  double  rank 
of  dead  men;  the  vacant  deck  stretching 
away  in  dimming  perspective  beyond 
them,  the  wide  desert  of  smooth  sea  all 
abroad;  the  rim  of  the  moon  spying  from 

d;  the  remote 
aring  a  zigzag 
stars  in  the 
his  soft  picture 
e  time  that  he 
t  and  told  his 
jit  so  lonesome 

Indians    and 
len  sleep  in  a 
t  in  the  waist  of 
>  forward;  they 
by  side  with  no 
between ;     the 
ormerwrapped 
ip,    head    and 
ill,    as    in  the 
ndian   streets; 
he     Chinamen 
incovered;  the 
amp      and 
h  i  n  g  s      for 
>pium  -  smok- 
ng  in  the  cen- 
er.     .     .     . 
Monday \  May 
4th. — Steam- 
ing slowly  in 
the  stupend- 
ous Delagoa 
Bay,  its  dim 

"  MOST  OF  THEM  ARE  EXACTLY  LIKE  arillS  StretCh- 
THE  NEGROES  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  ing  faT  aWay 
STATES — ROUND  FACES,  FLAT   NOSES."         and        disaD- 

pearing  on 
both  sides.  It  could  furnish  plenty  of 
room  for  all  the  ships  in  the  world,  but 
it  is  shoal.  The  lead  has  given  us  three 
and  one-half  fathoms  several  times,  and  we 
are  drawing  that,  lacking  six  inches. 

A  bald  headland — precipitous  wall  150 
feet  high — very  strong  red  color,  stretch- 
ing a  mile  or  so.  A  man  said  it  was  Por- 
tuguese blood — battle  fought  here  with 
the  natives  last  year.  I  think  this  doubt- 
ful. Pretty  cluster  of  houses  on  the  table- 
land above  the  red — and  rolling  stretches 
of  grass  and  groups  of  trees,  like  Eng- 
land. 

The  Portuguese  have  the  railroad  (one 
passenger  train  a  day)  to  the  border, 
seventy  miles — then  the  Netherlands  Com- 
pany have  it.  Thousands  of  tons  of 
freight  on  the  shore — no  cover.     This  is 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


i6 


FROM  INDIA    TO  SOUTH  AFRICA. 


Portuguese  all  over — indolence,  piousness, 
poverty,  impotence. 

Crews  of  small  boats  and  tugs  all  jet 
black,  woolly  heads,  and  very  muscular. 

Winter. — The  South  African  winter  is 
just  beginning  now,  but  nobody  but  an 
expert  can  tell  it  from  summer.  How- 
ever, I  am  tired  of  summer;  we  have  had 
it  unbroken  for  eleven  months.  We  spent 
the  afternoon  on  shore,  Delagoa  Bay.      A 


eter  of  a  teacup.  It  required  nice  bal- 
ancing— and  got  it. 

No  bright  colors;  yet  there  were  a  good 
many  Hindoos. 

The  Second  Class  Passenger  came  over 
as  usual  at  "  lights  out "  (eleven),  and  we 
lounged  along  the  spacious  vague  solitudes 
of  the  deck  and  smoked  the  peaceful  pipe 
and  talked.  He  told  me  an  incident  in 
Mr.    Barnum's    life   which  was   evidently 


"it's  a  first-rate  idea,    i'll  buy  the  monument." 


small  town — no  sights.  No  carriages. 
Three  rickshaws,  but  we  couldn't  get  them 
— apparently  private.  These  Portuguese 
are  a  rich  brown,  like  some  of  the  In- 
dians. Some  of  the  blacks  have  the  long 
horse-heads  and  very  long  chins  of  the 
negroes  of  the  picture  books;  but  most 
of  them  are  exactly  like  the  negroes  of 
our  Southern  States — round  faces,  flat 
noses,  good-natured,  and  easy  laughers. 

Flocks  of  black  women  passed  along, 
carrying  outrageously  heavy  bags  of 
freight  on  their  heads — the  quiver  of  their 
leg  as  the  foot  was  planted  and  the  strain 
exhibited  by  their  bodies  showed  what  a  tax 
upon  their  strength  the  load  was.  They 
were  stevedores,  and  doing  full  stevedore's 
work.  They  were  very  erect  when  unladen 
— from  carrying  weights  on  their  heads — 
just  like  the  Indian  women.  It  gives  them 
a  proud,  fine  carriage. 

Sometimes  one  saw  a  woman  carrying 
on  her  head  a  laden  and  topheavy  basket 
the  shape  of  an  inverted  pyramid — its  top 
the  size  of  a  soup-plate,  its  base  the  diam- 


characteristic  of  that  great  showman  in 
several  ways.  This  was  Barnum's  purchase 
of  Shakespeare's  birthplace,  a  quarter  of 
a  century  ago. 

The  Second  Class  Passenger  was  in 
Jamrach's  employ  at  the  time,  and  knew 
Barnum  well.  He  said  the  thing  began 
in  this  way.  One  morning  Barnum  and 
Jamrach  were  in  Jamrach's  little  private 
snuggery  back  of  the  wilderness  of  caged 
monkeys  and  snakes  and  other  common- 
places of  Jamrach's  stock  in  trade,  refresh- 
ing themselves  after  an  arduous  stroke  of 
business,  Jamrach  with  something  ortho- 
dox, Barnum  with  something  heterodox — 
for  Barnum  was  a  teetotaler.  The  stroke 
of  business  was  in  the  elephant  line. 
Jamrach  had  contracted  to  deliver  to  Bar- 
num in  New  York  eighteen  elephants  for 
$360,000,  in  time  for  the  next  season's 
opening.  Then  it  occurred  to  Mr.  Bar- 
num that  he  needed  a  "card."  He  sug- 
gested Jumbo.  Jamrach  said  he  would 
have  to  think  of  something  else — Jumbo 
couldn't  be  had;    the  Zoo  wouldn't  part 

Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


MARK  TWAIN. 


17 


with  that  elephant.  Barnum  said  he  was 
willing  to  pay  a  fortune  for  Jumbo  if  he 
could  get  him.  Jamrach  said  it  was  no 
use  to  think  about  it;  that  Jumbo  was  as 
popular  as  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  the 
Zoo  wouldn't  dare  to  sell  him;  all  Eng- 
land would  be  outraged  at  the  idea;  Jumbo 
was  an  English  institution;  he  was  part 
of  the  national  glory;  one  might  as  well 
think  of  buying  the  Nelson  monument. 
Barnum  spoke  up  with  vivacity  and  said: 

44  It's  a  first-rate  idea.  /'//  buy  the  monu- 
ment." 

Jamrach  was  speechless  for  a  second. 
Then  he  said,  like  one  ashamed: 

44  You  caught  me.  I  was  napping.  For 
a  moment  I  thought  you  were  in  earnest." 

Barnum  said  pleasantly: 

44 1  was  in  earnest.  I  know  they  won't 
sell  it,  but  no  matter.  I  will  not  throw 
away  a  good  idea  for  all  that.  All  I  want 
is  a  big  advertisement.  I  will  keep  the 
thing  in  mind,  and  if  nothing  better  turns 
up  I  will  offer  to  buy  it.  That  will  an- 
swer every  purpose.  It  will  furnish  me  a 
couple  of  columns  of  gratis  advertising 
in  every  English  and  American  paper  for 
a  couple  of  months,  and  give  my  show 
the  biggest  boom  a  show  ever  had  in  this 
world." 

Jamrach  started  to  deliver  a  burst  of  ad- 
miration, but  was  interrupted  by  Barnum, 
who  said: 

44  Here  is  a  state  of  things!  England 
ought  to  blush." 

His  eye  had  fallen  upon  something  in 
the  newspaper.  He  read  it  through  to 
himself;  then  read  it  aloud.  It  said  that 
the  house  that  Shakespeare  was  born  in  at 
Stratford-on-Avon  was  falling  gradually 
to  ruin  through  neglect;  that  the  room 
where  the  poet  first  saw  the  light  was  now 
serving  as  a  butcher's  shop;  that  all  ap- 
peals to  England  to  contribute  money  (the 
requisite  sum  stated)  to  buy  and  repair 
the  house  and  place  it  in  the  care  of  sal- 
aried and  trustworthy  keepers  had  fallen 
resultless.     Then  Barnum  said: 

44  There's  my  chance.  Let  Jumbo  and 
the  monument  alone  for  the  present — 
they'll  keep.  I'll  buy  Shakespeare's 
house.  I'll  set  it  up  in  my  museum  in 
New  York,  and  put  a  glass  case  around  it 
and  make  a  sacred  thing  of  it;  and  you'll 
see  all  America  flock  there  to  worship; 
yes,  and  pilgrims  from  the  whole  earth; 
and  I'll  make  them  take  their  hats  off, 
too.  In  America  we  know  how  to  value 
anything  that  Shakespeare's  touch  has 
made  holy.     You'll  see!" 

In  conclusion  the  S.  C.  P.  said: 


44  That  is  the  way  the  thing  came  about. 
Barnum  did  buy  Shakespeare's  house.  He 
paid  the  price  asked,  and  received  the 
properly  attested  documents  of  sale. 
Then  there  was  an  explosion,  I  can  tell 
you.  England  rose!  What,  the  birth- 
place of  the  master  genius  of  all  the  ages 
and  all  the  climes — that  priceless  posses- 
sion of  Britain — to  be  carted  out  of  the 
country  like  so  much  old  lumber  and  set 
up  for  sixpenny  desecration  in  a  Yankee 
show-shop!  The  idea  was  not  to  be  toler- 
ated for  a  moment.  England  rose  in  her 
indignation,  and  Barnum  was  glad  to  relin- 
quish his  prize  and  offer  apologies.  How- 
ever, he  stood  out  for  a  compromise;  he 
claimed  a  concession — England  must  let 
him  have  Jumbo.  And  England,  con- 
sented, but  not  cheerfully." 

It  shows  how,  by  help  of  time,  a  story 
can  grow— even  after  Barnum  has  had  the 
first  innings  in  the  telling  of  it.  Mr. 
Barnum  told  me  the  story  himself,  years 
ago.  He  said  that  the  permission  to  buy 
Jumbo  was  not  a  concession;  the  purchase 
was  made  and  the  animal  delivered  before 
the  public  knew  anything  about  it  ;  also, 
that  the  securing  of  Jumbo  was  all  the 
advertisement  he  needed.  It  produced 
many  columns  of  newspaper  talk  free  of 
cost,  and  he  was  satisfied.  He  said  that 
if  he  had  failed  to  get  Jumbo  he  would 
have  caused  his  notion  of  buying  the  Nel- 
son monument  to  be  treacherously  smug- 
gled into  print  by  some  trusty  friend,  and 
after  he  had  gotten  a  few  hundred  pages 
of  gratuitous  advertising  out  of  it,  he 
would  have  come  out  with  a  blundering, 
obtuse,  but  warm-hearted  letter  of  apol- 
ogy, and  in  a  postscript  to  it  would  have 
naively  proposed  to  let  the  monument  go 
and  take  Stonehenge  in  place  of  it  at  the 
same  price. 

It  was  his  opinion  that  such  a  letter, 
written  with  well-simulated  asinine  inno- 
cence and  gush,  would  have  gotten  his  ig- 
norance and  stupidity  an  amount  of  news- 
paper abuse  worth  six  fortunes  to  him  and 
not  purchasable  for  twice  the  money. 

I  knew  Mr.  Barnum  well,  and  I  placed 
every  confidence  in  the  account  which  he 
gave  me  of  the  Shakespeare  birthplace 
episode.  He  said  he  found  the  house  ne- 
glected and  going  to  decay,  and  he  inquired 
into  the  matter,  and  was  told  that  many 
times  earnest  efforts  had  been  made  to 
raise  money  for  its  proper  repair  and  pres- 
ervation, but  without  success.  He  then 
proposed  to  buy  it.  The  proposition  was 
entertained,  and  a  price  named — $50,000, 
I  think;  but  whatever  it  was,  Barnum  paid 
Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


18     GOVERNMENT  COLLECTION  OF  CIVIL  WAR  PHOTOGRAPHS, 


the  money  down,  without  remark,  and  the 
papers  were  drawn  up  and  executed.  He 
said  that  it  had  been  his  purpose  to  set  up 
the  house  in  his  museum,  keep  it  in  repair, 
protect  it  from  name-scribblers  and  other 
decorators,  and  leave  it  by  bequest  to  the 
safe  and  perpetual  guardianship  of  the 
Smithsonian  Institution  at  Washington. 
But  as  soon  as  it  was  found  that  Shakes- 
peare's house  had  passed  into  foreign 
hands  and  was  going  to  be  carried  across 
the  ocean,  England  was  stirred  as  no  ap- 
peal from  the  custodians  of  the  relic  had 
ever  stirred  her  before,  and  protests  came 
flowing  in— and  money,  too, — to  stop 
the  outrage.  Offers  of  re-purchase  were 
made — offers  of    double  the   money  that 


Mr.  Barnum  had  paid  for  the  house.  He 
handed  the  house  back,  and  took  only  the 
sum  which  it  had  cost  him — but  on  the 
condition  that  an  endowment  sufficient  for 
the  future  safeguarding  and  maintenance 
of  the  sacred  relic  should  be  raised.  This 
condition  was  fulfilled. 

That  was  Barnum's  account  of  the  epi- 
sode; and  to  the  end  of  his  days  he 
claimed  with  pride  and  satisfaction  that 
not  England,  but  America — represented 
by  him — saved  the  birthplace  of  Shakes- 
peare from  destruction. 

At  three  p.m.,  May  6th,  the  ship  slowed 
down,  off  the  land,  and  thoughtfully  and 
cautiously  picked  her  way  into  the  snug 
harbor  of  Durban,  South  Africa.* 


THE    GOVERNMENT    COLLECTION    OF    CIVIL    WAR 

PHOTOGRAPHS. 

By   Genkrai.  A.    \V.    Grerly. 


IN  its  progress  the  American  civil  war 
was  marked  by  the  application  to  its 
use  and  benefit  of  many  phases  of  indus- 
trial evolution  that  had  hitherto  been  un- 
employed in  the  art  of  war.  One  of  the 
most  interesting  for  the  future  historian 
was  the  utilization  of  photography.  For- 
tunately for  historical  students  there  has 
been  concentrated,  arranged,  and  cata- 
logued, in  the  War  Department  Library, 
more  than  eight  thousand  photographs  re- 
lating to  the  civil  war,  which  are  the  prop- 
erty of  the  United  States.  Of  these  more 
than  six  thousand  are  represented  by  neg- 
atives. Inasmuch  as  McClure's  Maga- 
zine has  been  the  first  to  thoroughly  ex- 
amine these  photographs  for  historical 
purposes,  under  permission  of  Secretary  of 
War  Russell  A.  Alger,  and  will  present 
many  of  them  to  its  readers  in  connection 
with  the  reminiscences  of  the  former  As- 
sistant Secretary  of  War,  Charles  A.  Dana, 
one  of  the  ablest  and  most  active  officials 
of  the  war  period,  it  may  be  of  interest 
to  its  readers  to  know  the  story  of  the 
aggregation  of  these  photographs  and  of 
the  vicissitudes  which  nearly  caused  their 
total  loss  to  the  world. 

These  negatives  and  photographs  were 
brought  together  in  the  War  Department 


Library  in  1894,  under  an  order  of  Secre- 
tary of  War  Lamont,  reorganizing  certain 
divisions  of  the  War  Department,  which 
directed  that  collections  of  photographs 
of  any  bureau  of  the  War  Department, 
not  used  in  the  administrative  work  there- 
of, should  be  transferred  to  the  War  De- 
partment Library.  As  a  result  there  are 
now  in  the  files  of  the  War  Department 
Library  8,115  photographs,  ranging  in 
size  from  three  by  four  inches  to  seventeen 
by  twenty  inches. 

While  fewest  in  number,  yet,  from  their 
official  character,  the  most  important  pho- 
tographs are  those  contributed  by  the 
Corps  of  Engineers  and  the  Quartermas- 
ter's Department.  The  Quartermaster's 
photographs,  over  a  thousand  in  number, 
illustrate  not  only  the  multifarious  opera- 
tions and  activities  of  this  great  depart- 
ment, but  also  of  other  army  bureaus. 
We  find  represented  bakeries,  hospitals, 
stables,  warehouses,  barracks,  conscript 
camps,  prisoners*  quarters,  signal  towers, 
convalescent  camps,  draft  rendezvous, 
gunboats,  refugee  camps  and  quarters, 
contraband  quarters,  hospitals,  and  camps, 
rolling-mills,  shipyards,  waterworks — in 
short,  nearly  every  phase  of  the  operations 
in   the  rear  of   or   accessory  to   a   great 


*  Editor's  Note.— These  chapters  (copyright,  1807,  by  Olivia  I..  Clemens)  are  from  a  forthcoming  book  by  Mark 
Twain,  entitled  '*  Following  the  Equator,"  and  are  published  here  by  special  arrangement  with  the  American  Publishing 
Co.,  of  Hartford,  Conn.  They  constitute  the  only  account  of  any  part  of  Mark  Twain's  recent  journey  around  the  world 
that  will  appear  in  periodical  form,  and  all  rights  are  expressly  reserved.  The  book  will  be  sold  only  by  subscription, 
and  its  sale  in  New  York  and  the  vicinity  is  under  the  exclusive  control  of  the  Doubleday  and  McClure  Company 


Digitized  by 


tSSSgle 


GOVERNMENT  COLLECTION  OF  CIVIL  WAR  PHOTOGRAPHS.     19 


army.  There  is  an  extended  series  of 
views  of  gunboats  and  transports,  and  a 
very  valuable  one  showing  the  operation, 
construction,  and  repair  of  military  rail- 
ways as  conducted  by  the  Railway  Divi- 
sion of  the  Quartermaster's  Department. 
These  photographs  exhibit  experimental 
bridges,  the  manner  of  straightening  bent 
rails,  of  various  expedients  for  crossing 
streams,  of  barges  carrying  freight  cars, 
with  appliances  for  loading  and  unloading, 
from  which  originated  the  great  transfer 
railway  ferryboats,  which  are  still  peculiar 
to  America  only.  The  Adjutant-General's 
photographs  consist  of  nearly  seven  hun- 
dred portraits  of  distinguished  officers 
who  served  in  the  war.  Very  few  of  these 
photographs  have  ever  been  reproduced, 
the  collection  not  being  accessible  until 
now.  Among  views  obtained  from  private 
sources  the  most  important  collection  is 
that  belonging  to  Captain  W.  C.  Marge- 
dant,  about  fifty  views  of  Chattanooga  and 
its  surroundings  in  1863-64. 

Far  the  greater  number,  and  those  pos- 
sessing the  greatest  popular  interest,  are 
contained  in  the  views  and  negatives  known 
as  the  Brady  war  photographs.  The 
Brady  collection  covers  the  operations 
of  the  war  in  the  District  of  Columbia, 
Georgia,  Maryland,  New  York,  Pennsyl- 
vania, South  Carolina,  Tennessee,  and 
Virginia.  It  also  comprises  photographs 
of  Presidents  Lincoln  and  Johnson,  and 
their  cabinets,  senators  and  members  of 
the  House  of  Representatives,  judges, 
many  distinguished  citizens,  and  a  large 
number  of  military  and  naval  officers. 
Secretary  of  War  William  W.  Belknap  pur- 
chased for  the  War  Department  in  July, 
1874,  a  large  number  of  photographic  neg- 
atives of  war  views  and  portraits  of  prom- 
inent men.  The  government  secured  a 
perfect  title  to  the  entire  collection  in 
April,  1875,  at  an  aggregate  expense  of 
nearly  $28,000. 

For  nearly  twenty  years  subsequent  to 
the  passing  of  these  negatives  into  the 
possession  of  the  United  States,  the  story 
of  the  Brady  war  photographs  is  practi- 
cally one  of  neglect  or  misfortune.  In- 
trusted to  the  care  of  subordinate  officials, 
who  were  either  indifferent  to  or  ignorant 
of  the  value  and  interest  of  the  collec- 
tion, it  suffered  to  an  extraordinary  degree 
from  the  lack  of  proper  care  in  handling. 
Passing  from  one  official  to  another,  it 
was  nearly  ten  years  before  any  attempt 
was  made  to  make  a  list  of  the  six  thou- 
sand negatives.  Meanwhile,  for  various 
official  and  historical  purposes,   free  and 


unguarded  access  was  allowed  to  the  neg- 
atives, which  naturally  suffered  from  inex- 
perienced and  careless  handling.  Many 
negatives  were  broken,  some  defaced  by 
handling,  some  destroyed  by  neglect  and 
exposure,  while  others  were  lost. 

When  in  1894  Secretary  Lamont  ordered 
that  the  civil  war  photographs  be  grouped 
and  catalogued,  the  labor  of  identification, 
cleaning,  repairing,  and  putting  beyond  the 
possibility  of  further  damage  of  this  Brady 
collection  seemed  at  first  a  hopeless  task; 
but  fortunately,  after  a  period  of  three 
years,  this  has  been  in  a  measure  done,  ex- 
cept three  hundred  unidentified  negatives. 
The  perfected  work  is  now,  through  a  pub- 
lished catalogue  of  the  War  Department,  in 
such  shape  as  to  be  available  to  historical 
students,  and  the  original  negatives  of  the 
various  collections,  in  dust-proof  envel- 
opes, have  been  so  arranged,  classified, 
and  stored  that  any  one  of  them  is  imme- 
diately accessible. 

Future  generations,  in  dwelling  on  the 
civil  war,  must  necessarily  revert  to  these 
war  photographs  for  information  and  im- 
pressions; and,  as  man  is  always  of  greater 
interest  than  his  environment,  the  por- 
traits of  the  prominent  actors  in  this  stu- 
pendous war  must  be  ever  of  the  greatest 
value.  The  wealth  of  the  collection  in 
this  direction  may  be  appreciated  by  the 
names  of  a  few  of  the  Federal  and  Con- 
federate commanders,  now  dead,  whose 
deeds  and  services  have  won  renown. 

Among  these  are  Anderson,  Bartlett, 
Beauregard,  Birney,  Boggs,  Buell,  Bu- 
ford,  Burnside,  Casey,  Corcoran,  Combs, 
Custer,  Dahlgren,  Davis,  Dix,  Dupont, 
Emory,  Farragut,  Foote,  Foster,  Fre- 
mont, Garfield,  Grant,  Gregg,  Griffin, 
Hancock,  Hazen,  Heintzelmann,  Hooker, 
Hunt,  "  Stonewall  "  Jackson,  Johnston, 
Kearney,  Lee,  Logan,  McClellan,  Mc- 
Pherson,  Meade,  Morris,  Ord,  Paulding, 
the  Porters,  Rodgers,  Rowan,  Schenck, 
Scott,  Sedgwick,  Sheridan,  Sherman, 
Slocum,  Terry,  Thomas,  and  Warren. 

In  short,  there  are  but  few  Federal  offi- 
cers of  rank  and  distinction  whose  linea- 
ments are  not  preserved  in  this  collection, 
which  in  another  generation  will  be  con- 
sidered one  of  the  inestimable  treasures  of 
the  American  nation.  The  genius  of  the 
artist  may  well  be  looked  to  for  the  deline- 
ation of  the  heroic  figures  of  the  Ameri- 
can civil  war.  But  it  is  safe  to  say  that, 
however  beautiful  may  be  these  works  of 
art,  they  can  never  touch  the  heart  or 
awaken  the  imagination  as  do  certain  pho- 
tographs of  this  collectjc^  t 


REMINISCENCES    OF    MEN    AND    EVENTS    OF    THE 

CIVIL   WAR. 

By  Charles  A.  Dana, 
Assistant  Secretary  of  War  from  1863  to  1865. 

ILLUSTRATED  WITH  PORTRAITS  FROM  THE  WAR  DEPARTMENT  COLLECTION  OF 

CIVIL  WAR   PHOTOGRAPHS. 

I. 
FROM    THE    "  TRIBUNE"    TO   THE   WAR   DEPARTMENT. 


HAD  been  associated  with  Hor- 
ace Greeley  on  the  New  York 
"Tribune"  for  about  fifteen 
years  when,  one  morning  early 
in  April,  1862,  Mr.  Sinclair,  the 
advertising  manager  of  the  pa- 
per, came  to  me  saying  that 
Mr.  Greeley  would  be  glad  to  have  me 
resign.  I  asked  one  of  my  associates  to 
find  from  Mr.  Greeley  if  it  was  really 
his  wish.  In  a  few  hours  he  came  to  me 
saying  that  I  had  better  go.  I  stayed 
the  day  out,  in  order  to  make  up  the  paper 
and  give  them  an  opportunity  to  find  a 
successor,  but  I  never  went  into  the  office 
after  that.  I  think  I  owned  a  fifth  of  the 
paper — twenty  shares — at  that  time;  this 
stock  my  colleagues  bought. 

Mr.  Greeley  never  gave  a  reason  for 
dismissing  me,  nor  did  1  ever  ask  for  one. 
I  know,  though,  that  the  real  explanation 
was  that  while  he  was  for  peace  I  was  for 
war,  and  that  as  long  as  I  staid  on  the 
"  Tribune"  there  was  a  spirit  there  which 
was  not  his  spirit — that  he  did  not  like. 

My  retirement  from  the  "  Tribune  "  was 
talked  of  in  the  newspapers  for  a  day  or 
two,*  and  brought  me  a  letter  from  the 

♦AN  EDITORIAL  CHANGE. 

It  seems  to  be  generally  understood,  and  we  believe  it  is 
true,  that  Charles  A.  Dana,  Esq.,  who  has  been  for  the  last 
fifteen  years  managing  editor  of  the  "Tribune,'  has  with- 
drawn from  that  position,  and  dissolved  his  connection  with 
that  journal. 

The  reasons  of  this  step  are  not  known  to  us,  nor  are  they 
proper  subjects  of  public  comment. 

we  presume,  however,  that  Mr.  Dana  intends  to  with- 
draw from  journalism  altogether  and  devote  himself  to  the 
more  congenial  pursuits  of  literature.  He  is  one  of  the  ablest 
and  most  accomplished  gentlemen  connected  with  the  news- 
paper press.  The  ranks  of  the  profession  are  not  sufficiently 
crowded  with  such  members  to  render  his  departure  from  it 
a  matter  of  indifference. 

The  "  Albion  "  makes  the  following  just  and  merited  no- 
tice of  this  incident : 

"  The  daily  press  of  this  city  has  sustained— for  a  time  at 


Secretary  of  War,  say- 

ing he  would  like  War 

Department.     I  h  Lin- 

coln, and  had  ca  res- 

pondence  with  Mr  ting 

with  Mr.  Lincoln  5  in- 

auguration.     He  Rew- 

ard  to   be    his    S  and 

some  of  the   Rep  Mew 

York   who   had  b  pre- 

venting Mr.    Sew;  the 

Presidency  and   i:  Mr. 

Lincoln,  had  begu  >uld 

be  left  out  in  the  c  n  of 

the  offices.     Gene  rth, 

George  Opdyke,  .   B. 

Carroll,    and    He     w  vere 

among  the  number  of  these  gentlemen. 
Their  apprehensions  were  somewhat  miti- 
gated by  the  fact  that  Mr.  Chase,  to  whom 
we  were  all  friendly,  was  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury.  But,  notwithstanding,  they 
were  afraid  that  the  superior  tact  and  per- 
tinacity of  Mr.  Seward  and  of  Mr.  Thur- 
low  Weed,  Seward's  close  friend  and  the 
political  manager  of  the  Republican  party, 
would  *get  the  upper  hand,  and  that  the 
power  of  the  Federal  administration  would 

least— a  serious  loss  in  the  discontinuance  of  Mr.  Charles  A. 
Dana's  editorial  connection  with  the  *  Tribune.'  Differing 
as  we  almost  invariably  have  done  with  the  policy  and  the 
tenets  of  that  paper,  and  having  been  drawn  at  intervals 
into  controversy  with  it,  we  should  nevertheless  omit  both  a 
pleasure  and  a  duty  if  we  failed  to  put  on  record  our  grate- 
ful sense  of  many  professional  courtesies  experienced  at 
Mr.  Dana's  hands. 

"  Remembering  also  that  during  the  palmy  days  of  the 
New  York  Press  Club,  no  member  of  that  association  was 
more  personally  popular  than  this  our  genial  and  scholarly 
friend,  we  do  but  unite,  we  are  sure,  with  all  our  brethren 
in  hoping  that  he  will  not  long  absent  himself  from  the 
ranks.  Should  he,  however,  hold  aloof  from  a  difficult  and 
thankless  office,  his  taste  and  abilities  are  certain  to  bring 
him  most  honorably  before  the  public  in  some  other 
department  of  letters.  Such  as  he  cannot  hide  their  light 
under  a  bushel."— "  The  Times,"  New  York,  April  6. 
i86a. 


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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


HOKACK   GKKKI.KY    IN    1862.      AGE    51    YKAKS. 

Editor  of  the  New  York  "  Tribune  "  from  1841  to  187a. 


be  put  into  the  control  of  the  rival  fac- 
tion; accordingly,  several  of  them  deter- 
mined to  go  to  Washington,  and  I  was 
asked  to  go  with  them. 

I  believe  the  appointment  for  our  inter- 
view with  the  President  was  made  through 
Mr.  Chase;  but,  at  any  rate,  we  all  went  up 
to  the  White  House  together,  except  Mr. 
Henry  B.  Stanton,  who  stayed  away  be- 
cause he  was  himself  an  applicant  for 
office. 


Mr.  Lincoln  received  us  in  the  large 
room  upstairs  in  the  east  wing  of  the  White 
House,  where  he  had  his  working  office, 
and  stood  up  while  General  Wadsworth, 
who  was  our  principal  spokesman,  and  Mr. 
Opdyke  stated  what  was  desired.  After 
the  interview  was  begun,  a  big  Indianian, 
who  was  a  messenger  in  attendance  in  the 
White  House,  came  into  the  room  and  said 
to  the  President, 

"  She  wants  you." 

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22 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF  THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


"Yes,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  without 
stirring. 

Soon  afterward  the  messenger  returned 
again,  exclaiming, 

"  I  say  she  wants  you!  " 

The  President  was  evidently  annoyed, 
but,  instead  of  going  out  after  the  messen- 
ger, he  remarked  to  us: 

"One  side  shall  not  gobble  up  every- 
thing. Make  out  a  list  of  places  and  men 
you  want,  and  I  will  endeavor  to  apply 
the  rule  of  give  and  take.*' 

General  Wadsworth  answered: 

"Our  party  will  not  be  able  to  remain 
in  Washington,  but  we  will  leave  such  a 
list  with  Mr.  Carroll,  and  whatever  he 
agrees  to  will  be  agreeable  to  us." 

Mr.  Lincoln  continued:  "  Let  Mr.  Car- 
roll come  in  to-morrow,  and  we  will  see 
what  can  be  done.'* 

This  is  the  substance  of  the  interview, 
and  what  most  impressed  me  was  the  evi- 
dent fairness  of  the  President.  We  all 
felt  that  he  meant  to  do  what  was  right 
and  square  in  the  matter.  While  he  was 
not  the  man  to  promote  factious  quarrels 
and  difficulties  within  his  party,  he  did  not 
intend  to  leave  in  the  lurch  the  special 
friends  through  whose  exertions  his  nomi- 
nation and  election  had  finally  been  brought 
about.  At  the  same  time  he  understood 
perfectly  that  we  of  New  York  and  our 
associates  in  the  Republican  body  had  not 
gone  to  Chicago  for  the  purpose  of  nomi- 
nating him,  or  of  nominating  any  one  in 
particular,  but  only  to  beat  Mr.  Seward, 
and  thereupon  to  do  the  best  that  could  be 
done  regarding  the  selection  of  the  can- 
didate. 

FIRST    ACQUAINTANCE    WITH    STANTON. 

My  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Stanton  had 
come  about  through  an  editorial  which  I 
had  written  for  the  "  Tribune  "*  on  his 
entrance  to  the  War  Department,  and 
which  I  had  sent  to  him  with  a  letter  call- 
ing his  attention  to  certain  facts  with 
which,  it  seemed  to  me,  the  War  Depart- 
ment ought  to  deal.  In  reply  I  received 
the  following  letter: 

Washington,  January  24,  '62. 

My  dear  Sir  : — Yours  of  the  22d  only  reached  me 
this  evening.  The  facts  you  mention  were  new  to 
me,  but  there  is  too  much  reason  to  fear  they  are 
true.  But  that  matter  will,  I  think,  be  corrected 
very  speedily. 

You  cannot  tell  how  much  obligation  I  feel  myself 
under  for  your  kindness.     Every  man  who  wishes 

*  "The  New  Head  of  the  War  Department,"  New  York 
"Tribune,"  January  21,  1862.  Mr.  Stanton  became  Secretary 
of  War  the  middle  of  January,  1862. 


the  country  to  pass  through  this  trying  hour  should 
stand  on  watch,  and  aid  me.  Bad  passions,  and  little 
passions,  and  mean  passions  gather  around  and  hem 
in  the  great  movements  that  should  deliver  this  nation. 

Two  days  ago  I  wrote  you  a  long  letter — a  three 
pager — expressing  my  thanks  for  your  admirable 
article  of  the  21st,  stating  my  position  and  purposes; 
and  in  that  letter  I  mentioned  some  of  the  circum- 
stances of  my  unexpected  appointment.  But  inter- 
rupted before  it  was  completed,  I  will  not  inflict,  or 
afflict,  you  with  it. 

I  know  the  task  that  is  before  us — I  say  us  be- 
cause the  **  Tribune"  has  its  mission  as  plainly  as  I 
have  mine,  and  they  tend  to  the  same  end.  But  I 
am  not  in  the  smallest  degree  dismayed  or  disheart- 
ened. By  Hod's  blessing,  we  shall  prevail.  I  feel  a 
deep,  earnest  feeling  growing  up  around  me.  We 
have  no  jokes  or  trivialities  ;  but  all  with  whom  I 
act  show  that  they  are  now  in  dead  earnest. 

I  know  you  will  rejoice  to  know  this. 

As  soon  as  I  can  get  the  machinery  of  the  office 
working,  the  rats  cleared  out,  and  the  rat-holes 
stopped,  we  shall  more.  This  army  has  got  to  fight 
or  run  away  ;  and  while  men  are  striving  nobly  in 
the  West,  the  champagne  and  oysters  on  the  Potomac 
must  be  stopped.  But  patience  for  a  short  while 
only  is  all  I  ask,  if  you  and  others  like  you  will  rally 
around  me.  Yours  truly, 

Edwin  M.  Stanton. 
C.  A.  Dana,  Ksq. 

A  few  days  after  this  I  wrote  Mr.  Stan- 
ton a  second  letter,  in  which  I  asked  him 
to  give  General  Fremont  a  chance.  At 
the  breaking  out  of  the  war  Fremont  had 
been  made  a  mafjor-general  in  the  regular 
army  and  the  command  of  the  Western  de- 
partment had  been  given  him.  His  cam- 
paign in  Missouri  in  the  summer  of  1861 
gave  great  dissatisfaction,  and  in  Novem- 
ber, 1 86 1,  he  was  relieved,  after  an  inves- 
tigation by  the  Secretary  of  War.  Since 
that  time  he  had  been  without  a  command. 
I  believed,  as  did  many  others,  that  politi- 
cal intrigue  was  keeping  Fremont  back, 
and  I  was  anxious  that  he  should  have  fair 
play,  in  order  that  the  great  mass  of  people 
who  had  supported  him  for  the  Presidency 
in  1856,  and  who  still  were  his  warm  friends, 
might  not  be  dissatisfied.  To  my  letter 
Mr.  Stanton  replied: 

Washington,  February  1,  '62. 

Dear  Sir: — If  General  Fremont  has  any  fight  in 
him  he  shall  (so  far  as  I  am  concerned)  have  a  chance 
to  show  it,  and  I  have  told  him  so.  The  times  re- 
quire the  help  of  every  man  according  to  his  gifts  ; 
and  having  neither  partialities  nor  grudges  to  indulge, 
it  will  l>e  my  aim  to  practice  on  the  maxim  *4  the 
tools  to  him  that  can  handle  them."* 

There  will  be  serious  trouble  between  Hunter  and 
Lane.  What  Lane's  expedition  has  in  view,  how  it 
came  to  be  set  on  foot,  and  what  is  expected  to  be 
accomplished  by  it,  I  do  not  know  and  have  tried  in 
vain  to  find  out.  It  seems  to  be  a  haphazard  affair 
that  no  one  will  admit  himself  to  be  responsible  for. 
But  believing  that  Lane  has  pluck  and  is  an  earnest 

*  A  few  weeks  later,  viz.,  March  1  ith.  General  Fremont  was 
assigned  to  the  command  of  the  "  Mountain  Department," 
composed  of  parts  of  Virginia,  Kentucky,  and  Tennessee. 


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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


23 


EDWIN   M.   STANTON. 

Secretary  of  War  from  January,  1863,  to  May,  1668. 


man,  he  shall  have  fair  play.    If  you  know  anything 
about  him  or  his  expedition  pray  tell  it  to  me. 

To  bring  the  War  Department  up  to  the  standard 
of  the  times,  and  work  an  army  of  five  hundred 
thousand  with  machinery  adapted  to  a  peace  estab- 
lishment of  twelve  thousand,  is  no  easy  task.  This 
was  Mr.  Cameron's  great  trouble,  and  the  cause  of 
much  of  the  complaints  against  him.  All  I  ask  is 
reasonable  time  and  patience.  The  pressure  of 
members  of  Congress  for  clerk  and  army  appoint- 
ments, notwithstanding  the  most  stringent  rules,  and 
the  persistent  strain  against  all  measures  essential  to 
obtain  time  for  thought,  combination,  and  confer- 
ence, is  discouraging  in  the  extreme — it  often  tempts 
me  to  quit  the  helm  in  despair.  The  only  consolation 
is  the  confidence  and  support  of  good  and  patriotic 
men — to  their  aid  I  look  for  strength. 

Yours  truly,  Edwin  M.  Stanton. 

C.  A.   Dana,  Esq.,  "Tribune"  Office. 


Very  soon  after  Mr.  Stanton  went  into 
office  military  affairs  were  energized,  and 
a  forward  movement  of  the  armies  was 
apparent.  It  was  followed  by  several  vic- 
tories, notably  those  of  Fort  Henry  and 
Fort  Donelson.  On  different  occasions 
the  "Tribune"  credited  to  the  head  of 
the  War  Department  this  new  spirit  which 
seemed  to  inspire  officers  and  men.  Mr. 
Stanton,  fearful  of  the  effect  of  this 
praise,  sent  to  the  paper  the  following  de- 
spatch: 

To  tmk  Editor  of  the  New  York  "Tribune." 
Sir  : — T  cannot  suffer  undue  merit  to  be  ascribed 
to  my  official  action.     The  glory  of  our  recent  vic- 
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24 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


tories  belongs  to  the  gallant  officers  and  soldiers  that 
fought  the  battles.     No  share  of  it  belongs  to  me. 

Much  has  recently  been  said  of  military  combina- 
tions and  organizing  victory.  I  hear  such  phrases 
with  apprehension.  They  commenced  in  infidel 
France  with  the  Italian  campaign,  and  resulted  in 
Waterloo.  Who  can  organize  victory?  Who  can 
combine  the  elements  of  success  on  the  battlefield  ? 
We  owe  our  recent  victories  to  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord 
that  moved  our  soldiers  to  rush  into  battle  and  filled 
the  hearts  of  our  enemies  with  dismay.  The  inspira- 
tion that  conquered  in  battle  was  in  the  hearts  of  the 
soldiers  and  from  on  high  ;  and  wherever  there  is 
the  same  inspiration  there  will  be  the  same  results. 
Patriotic  spirit,  with  resolute  courage  in  officers  and 
men,  is  a  military  combination  that  never  failed. 

We  may  well  rejoice  at  the  recent  victories,  for 
they  teach  us  that  battles  are  to  be  won  now  and  by 
us  in  the  same  and  only  manner  that  they  were  ever 
won  by  any  people,  or  in  any  age,  since  the  days  of 
Joshua,  by  boldly  pursuing  and  striking  the  foe. 
What,  under  the  blessing  of  Providence,  I  conceive 
to  be  the  true  organization  of  victory  and  military 
combination  to  end  this  war,  was  declared  in  a  few 
words  by  General  Grant's  message  to  General  Buck- 
ner — *'  I  propose  to  move  immediately  on  your  works.** 
Yours  truly, 

Edwin  M.  Stanton. 

On  receiving  this  I  at  once  wired  to  our 
representative  in  Washington  to  know  if 
Mr.  Stanton  meant  to  "repudiate"  the 
"Tribune/'  I  received  my  answer  from 
Mr.  Stanton  himself. 

Washington,  February  19,  '62. 
Dear  Sir  : — It  occurred  to  me  that  your  kind  no- 
tice of  myself  might  be  perverted  into  a  disparage- 
ment of  the  Western  officers  and  soldiers  to  whom  the 
merit  of  the  recent  victories  justly  belongs,  and  that 
it  might  create  an  antagonism  between  them  and  the 
head  of  the  War  Department.  To  avoid  that  mis- 
construction was  the  object  of  my  despatch — leaving 
the  matter  to  be  determined  as  to  publication  to  the 
better  judgment  of  the  "  Tribune,"  my  own  mind 
not  being  clear  on  the  point  of  its  expediency.  Mr. 
Hill  *  called  to  see  me  this  evening,  and  from  the 
tenor  of  your  despatch  it  seemed  to  me  that  your 
judgment  did  not  approve  the  publication  or  you 
would  not  speak  of  me  as  "  repudiating"  anything 
the  *'  Tribune"  says.  On  reflection  /  am  convinced 
the  communication  should  not  be  published,  as  it 
might  imply  an  antagonism  between  myself  and  the 
"  Tribune.  '  On  this,  as  on  any  future  occasion,  I 
defer  to  your  judgment.  We  have  one  heart  and 
mind  in  this  great  cause,  and  upon  many  essential 
points  you  have  a  wider  range  of  observation  and 
clearer  sight  than  myself  ;  I  am  therefore  willing  to 
be  guided  by  your  wisdom. 

Yours  truly, 

Edwin  M.  Stanton. 
C.  A.  Dana,  Esq. 

On  receiving  this  letter  we  of  course 
published  his  telegram  at  once.f 

When  Mr.  Stanton  went  into  the  War 
Department  there  was  great  dissatisfac- 
tion   in   the  "Tribune"    office  with   Mc- 

*  Adams  S.  Hill,  now  professor  of  English  literature  in 
Harvard  University.  Then  he  was  a  correspondent  of  the 
**  Tribune  "  in  Washington. 

t  ^ew  York  "Tribune,"  February  ao,  1863,  editorial  page, 


Clellan.  He  had  been  placed  In  command 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  in  the  preced- 
ing August,  and  since  November  1st  had 
been  in  command  of  all  the  armies  of  the 
United  States;  but  while  he  had  proved 
himself  an  excellent  drill-master,  he  had, 
at  the  same  time,  proved  that  he  was  no 
general  at  all.  His  friends  were  loyal, 
however,  and  whatever  success  our  armies 
met  with  was  attributed  to  his  generalship. 

When  the  capture  of  Fort  Donelson  was 
announced  McClellan's  friends  claimed 
that  he  had  directed  it  by  telegraph  from 
his  headquarters  on  the  Potomac.  Now, 
the  terminus  of  the  telegraph  toward  Fort 
Donelson  was  many  miles  off  from  the 
battlefield.  Besides,  the  absurdity  of  a 
general  directing  the  movements  of  a 
battle  a  thousand  miles  off,  even  if  he  had 
fifty  telegraph  wires,  leading  to  every  part 
of  the  field,  was  apparent.  Nevertheless, 
McClellan's  supporters  kept  up  their  claim. 
On  February  20th,  the  Associated  Press 
agent  at  Washington,  in  reporting  a  meet- 
ing of  a  railroad  convention  at  which  Mr. 
Stanton  had  spoken,  said: 

"  Secretary  Stanton,  in  the  course  of  his 
address,  paid  a  high  compliment  to  the 
young  and  gallant  friend  at  his  sFde,  Ma- 
jor-General  McClellan,  in  whom  he  had 
the  utmost  confidence,  and  the  results  of 
whose  military  schemes,  gigantic  and  well- 
matured,  were  now  exhibited  to  a  rejoicing 
country.  The  secretary,  with  upraised 
hands,  implored  Almighty  God  to  aid 
them  and  himself,  and  all  occupying  posi- 
tions under  the  government,  in  crushing 
out  this  unholy  rebellion." 

I  did  not  believe  Stanton  had  done  any 
such  thing,  so  I  sent  the  paragraph  to 
him.     The  secretary  replied: 

[Private.] 

Washington,  February  23,  '62. 

Dear  Sir  : — The  paragraph  to  which  you  called 
my  attention  was  a  ridiculous  and  impudently  im- 
pertinent effort  to  puff  the  general  by  a  false  publica- 
tion of  words  I  never  uttered.  Sam  Barlow,  one  of 
the  secretaries  of  the  meeting,  was  its  author,  as  I 
have  been  informed.  It  is  too  small  a  matter  for  me 
to  contradict,  but  I  told  Mr.  Kimlen,  the  other  secre- 
tary, that  I  thought  the  gentlemen  who  invited  me 
to  be  present  at  their  meeting  owed  it  to  themselves 
to  see  that  one  of  their  own  officers  should  not  mis- 
represent what  I  said.  It  was  for  them,  and  due  to 
their  own  honor,  to  see  that  an  officer  of  the  govern- 
ment might  communicate  with  them  in  safety.  And 
if  it  was  not  done,  I  should  take  care  to  afford  no 
other  opportunity  for  such  practices. 

The  fact  is  that  the  agents  of  the  Associated 
Press  and  a  gang  around  the  Federal  Capitol  ap- 
pear to  be  oiganized  for  the  purpose  of  magnifying 
their  idol. 

And  if  such  men  as  those  who  composed  the  rail- 
road convention  in  this  city  do  not  rebuke  such  a 
Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


25 


practice  as  that  perpetrated  in  this  instance,  they  can- 
not be  conferred  with  in  future. 

You  will,  of  course,  see  the  propriety  of  my  not 
noticing  the  matter,  and  thereby  giving  it  importance 
beyond  the  contempt  it  inspires.  I  think  you  are 
well  enough  acquainted  with  me  to  judge  in  future 
the  value  of  any  such  statement. 

I  notice  the  "Herald"  telegraphic  reporter  an- 
nounces that  I  had  a  second  attack  of  illness  on  Fri- 
day and  could  not  attend  the  department.  I  was  in 
the  department,  or  in  cabinet,  from  9  a.m.  until  9 
at  night,  and  never 
enjoyed  more  per- 
fect health  than  on 
that  day  and  at 
present. 

For  your  kind  so- 
licitude accept  my 
thanks.  I  shall  not 
needlessly  impair 
my  means  of  use- 
fulness. 

Yours  truly, 

Edwin  M. 

Stanton. 


War  Department,  Washington  City,  D.  C, 

June  16,  1862. 
Sir: — By  direction  of  the  President,  a  commis- 
sion has  been  appointed,  consisting  of  Messrs. 
George  S.  Boutwell,  Stephen  T.  Logan,  and  your- 
self, to  examine  and  report  upon  all  unsettled  claims 
against  the  War  Department,  at  Cairo,  Illinois,  that 
may  have  originated  prior  to  the  first  day  of  April, 
1862. 

Messrs.  Boutwell  and  Logan  have  been  requested 
to  meet  with  you  at  Cairo  on  the  eighteenth  day  of 

June  instant,  in  or- 
der that  the  com- 
mission may  be  or- 
ganized on  that  day 
and  enter  immedi- 
ately upon  the  dis- 
charge of  its  duties. 
You  will  be  al- 
lowed a  compensa- 
tion of  eight  dollars 
per  day  and  mile- 
age. 

Mr.  Thomas 
Means,  who  has 
been  appointed  so- 
licitor for  the  gov- 
ernment, has  been 
directed  to  meet 
you  at  Cairo  on  the 
18th  instant,  and 
will  act  under  the 
direction  of  the 
commission  in 
the  investigation  of 
such  claims  as  may 
be  presented. 
Edwin  M. 
Stanton, 
Secretary  of  War. 

Hon.  Charles  A. 
Dana  of  New 
York, 


C.  A.  Dana,  Esq. 

P.S.— Was  it  not 
a  funny  sight  to 
see  a  certain  mili- 
tary hero  in  the  tel- 
egraph office  at 
Washington  last 
Sunday  organizing 
victory,  and  by  sub- 
lime military  com- 
binations capturing 
Fort  Donelson  six 
hours  after  Grant 
and  Smith  had  tak- 
en it  sword  in  hand 
and  had  victorious 
possession  !  It 
would  be  a  picture 
worthy  of 

**  Punch." 

FIRST  CONN  FAC- 
TION WITH 
THE  WAR  DE- 
PARTMENT. 

THURLOW  WEED. 

Thus  when 
the  newspapers 
announced    my 

unexpected    retirement    from    the   "  Tri-  friends,  and  Mr. 

bune,"   I  was  not  unknown  to  either  the  setts— afterward  governor  of  that  State, 

President  or  the  Secretary  of  War.  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  and  a  senator 

To  Mr.  Stanton's  letter  asking  me  to  go  — both    present.      We   organized   on   the 

into  the  service  of  the  War  Department,  I  18th,  as  directed.   Two  days  after  we  met, 

replied  that    I    would    take   anything   he  Judge   Logan  was  compelled  by  illness  to 

wanted  me  to,  and  in   May  he  wrote  me  resign  from  the  commission,  and  Shelby 

that  I  was  to  be  appointed  on  a  commis-  M.   Cullom,   now    United    States  Senator 

sion  to  audit  unsettled  claims  against  the  from  Illinois,  was  appointed  in  his  place, 

quartermaster's  department  at  Cairo,  Illi-  The  main   Union   armies   had   by  now 

nois.      I  was  directed  to  be  in  Cairo  on  advanced  far  to  the  front,  but  Cairo  was 

June  17th.    My  formal  appointment,  which  still  an  important  militarydepot — almostan 

I  did  not   receive   until    after   I   reached  outpost — in  command  of  General  William 

Cairo,  read;  K.  Strong,  whom  I  had  known  well  in  New 

Digitized  by ' 


When  Mr.  Dana  entered  the  War  Department  Mr.  Weed  was  in  Europe,  trying  to 
prevail  on  foreign  governments  to  refrain  from  recognizing  the  Confederacy. 


Cairo,  Illinois. 

On  reaching 
Cairo  on  the 
appointed  day, 
I  found  my  as- 
sociates, Judge 
Logan  of 
Springfield,  Il- 
linois, one  of 
Mr.  Lincoln's 
Boutwell    of  Massachu- 


OT^gc^ 


26 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR, 


York  as  a  Republican  politician.  There 
was  a  large  number  of  troops  stationed  in 
the  town,  and  from  there  the  armies  on  the 
Mississippi,  in  Missouri,  and  Kentucky 
got  all  their  supplies  and  munitions  of  war. 
The  quartermaster's  department  there  had 
been  organized  hastily,  and  the  demands 
upon  it  had  increased  rapidly.  Much  of 
the  business  had  been  done  by  green  vol- 
unteer officers  who  did  not  understand  the 
technical  duties  of  making  out  military 
requisitions  and  returns;  the  result  was 
that  the  accounts  were  in  great  confusion, 
and  hysterical  newspapers  were  charging 
the  department  with  fraud  and  corruption. 
The  matter  could  not  be  settled  by  any 
ordinary  means,  and  the  commission  went 
there  as  a  kind  of  supreme  authority,  ac- 
cepting or  rejecting  claims,  and  paying 
them  as  we  thought  fit,  after  examining 
the  evidence. 

Sixteen  hundred  and  ninety-six  claims, 
amounting  to  $599,219.36,  were  examined 
by  us.  Of  those  approved  and  certified 
for  payment  the  amount  was  $451,105.80. 

Of  the  claims  rejected  a  considerable 
portion  were  for  losses  suffered  in  the 
active  operations  of  the  army,  either 
through  departure  from  discipline  on  the 
part  of  soldiers,  or  from  requisitions  made 
by  officers  who  failed  to  give  receipts  and 
certificates  to  the  parties,  who  were  thus 
unable  to  support  their  claims  by  sufficient 
evidence.  Many  claims  of  this  description 
were  also  presented  by  persons  whose  loy- 
alty to  the  government  was  impeached  by 
credible  witnesses.  In  rejecting  these  the 
commission  set  forth  the  disloyalty  of  the 
claimants,  in  the  certificates  written  on  the 
face  of  their  accounts.  Other  accounts, 
whose  rightfulness  was  established,  were 
rejected  on  proof  of  disloyalty.  The 
commission  regarded  complicity  in  the  re- 
bellion as  barring  all  claims  against  the 
United  States. 

A  very  small  percentage  of  the  claims 
were  rejected  because  of  fraud.  In  almost 
every  case  it  was  possible  to  suppose  that 
the  apparent  fraud  was  accident.  My  ob- 
servation throughout  the  war  was  the 
same.  I  do  not  believe  that  so  much  busi- 
ness could  be  transacted  with  a  closer 
adherence  to  the  line  of  honesty.  That 
there  were  frauds  is  a  matter  of  course, 
because  men,  and  even  some  women,  are 
wicked,  but  they  were  the  exception. 

FIRST    MEETING    WITH    GRANT. 

All  the  leisure  that  I  had  at  Cairo  I  spent 
in  horseback  riding  up  and  down  the  river 


banks  and  in  visiting  the  adjacent  military 
posts.  My  longest  and  most  interesting 
trip  was  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  when  I 
went  down  the  Mississippi  to  attend  a  big 
celebration  at  Memphis.  I  remember  it 
particularly  because  it  was  there  that  I 
first  met  General  Grant.  The  officers  sta- 
tioned in  the  city  gave  a  dinner  that  day 
to  which  I  was  invited.  At  the  table  I 
was  seated  between  Grant  and  Major  John 
A.  Rawlins  of  his  staff.  I  remember  dis- 
tinctly the  pleasant  impression  Grant  made 
— that  of  a  man  of  simple  manners, 
straightforward,  cordial,  and  unpretend- 
ing. He  had  already  fought  the  successful 
battles  of  Fort  Donelson  and  Shiloh,  and 
when  I  met  him,  was  a  major-general  in 
command  of  the  district  of  West  Tennes- 
see, Department  of  the  Missouri,  under 
Halleck,  with  headquarters  at  Memphis. 
Although  one  would  not  have  suspected  it 
from  his  manners,  he  was  really  under  a 
cloud  at  the  time  because  of  the  opera- 
tions at  Shiloh.  Those  who  did  not  like 
him  had  accused  him  of  having  been  taken 
by  surprise  there,  and  had  declared  that 
he  would  have  been  beaten  if  Buell  had 
not  come  up.  I  often  talked  later  with 
Grant's  staff  officers  about  Shiloh,  and 
they  always  affirmed  that  he  would  have 
been  successful  if  Buell  had  not  come  to 
his  relief.  I  believe  Grant  himself  thought 
so,  although  he  never,  in  any  one  of  the 
many  talks  I  afterwards  had  with  him 
about  the  battle,  said  so  directly. 

RETURN    TO    WASHINGTON. 

We  finished  our  labors  at  Cairo  on  the 
31st  of  July,  1862,  and  I  went  at  once  to 
Washington  with  the  report,  placing  it  in 
the  hands  of  Mr.  Stanton  on  August  5th. 
It  was  never  printed,  and  the  manuscript 
is  still  in  the  files  of  the  War  Depart- 
ment. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  curiosity 
among  officers  in  Washington  about  the 
result  of  our  investigation,  and  all  the 
time  that  I  was  in  the  city  I  was  ques- 
tioned on  the  subject.  It  was  natural 
enough  that  they  should  have  been  inter- 
ested in  our  report.  The  charges  of  fraud 
and  corruption  against  officers  and  contrac- 
tors had  become  so  reckless  and  general 
that  the  mere  sight  of  a  man  in  confer- 
ence with  a  high  official  led  to  the  sus- 
picion and  often  the  charge  that  he  was 
conspiring  to  rob  the  government.  That 
in  this  case,  where  the  charges  seemed  so 
well  based,  so  small  a  percentage  of  corrup- 
tion had  been  proved  was  a  source  of  solid 
Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


27 


GSNRKAL   CBORCR    1».    MoCI. F.I.I. AN,    COMMANDER    OF   TMK    AKMIRS    IN    l8<2. 


satisfaction   to  everyone  in  the  War  De- 
partment. 

As  Mr.  Stanton  had  no  immediate  need 
of  my  services,  I  returned  to  New  York  in 
August,  where  I  was  occupied  with  vari- 
ous private  affairs  until  the  middle  of  No- 
vember, when  I  received  a  telegram  from 
Assistant  Secretary  of  War  P.  H.  Watson, 
asking  me  to  come  immediately  to  Wash- 
ington to  enter  upon  another  investigation. 
I  went,  and  was  received  by  Mr.  Stanton, 
who  offered  me  the  place  of  Assistant 
Secretary  of  War.     I  said  I  would  accept. 


"All    right,"    said   he,    "consider   it  set- 
tled." 

As  I  went  out  from  the  War  Department 
into  the  street  I  met  Major  Charles  G. 
Halpine  (Miles  O'Reilly)  of  the  Sixty- 
ninth  New  York  Infantry.  I  had  known 
Halpine  well  as  a  newspaper  man  in  New 
York,  and  I  told  him  of  my  appointment 
as  Mr.  Stanton's  assistant.  He  immedi- 
ately repeated  what  I  had  told  him  to 
some  newspaper  people;  it  was  reported 
in  the  New  York  papers  the  next  morning. 
The  secretary  was  greatly  offended,  and 
Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


28 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF  THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


withdrew  the  appointment.  When  I  told 
Halpine  I  had,  of  course,  no  idea  he  was 
going  to  repeat  it;  besides  I  did  not  think 
there  was  any  harm  in  telling. 

Immediately  after  this  episode  I  formed 
a  partnership  with  Roscoe  Conk  ling  and 
George  W.  Chadwick  to  buy  cotton.  The 
outcry  which  the  manufacturers  had  raised 
over  the  inability  to  get  cotton  for  their 
industries  had  induced  the  government  to 
permit  trading  through  the  lines  of  the 
army,  and  the  business  looked  profitable. 
Conkling  and  I  each  put  $10,000  into  the 
firm,  and  Chadwick  gave  his  services, 
which,  as  he  was  an  expert  in  cotton,  was 
considered  equal  to  our  capital.  To  facili- 
tate our  operations,  I  went  to  Washington 
to  ask  Mr.  Stanton  for  letters  of  recom- 
mendation to  the  generals  on  and  near  the 
Mississippi,  where  we  proposed  to  begin 
our  operations.  Mr.  Stanton  and  I  had 
several  conversations  about  the  advisabil- 
ity of  allowing  such  traffic,  but  he  did  not 
hesitate  about  giving  me  the  letters  I 
asked.  There  were  several  of  them — one 
to  General  Hurlbut,  then  at  Memphis,  an- 
other to  General  Grant,  who  was  planning 
his  operations  against  Vicksburg,  and  an- 
other to  General  Curtis,  who  commanded 
in  Arkansas.  The  general  purport  of  them 
was:  "  Mr.  Dana  is  my  friend,  you  can 
rely  upon  what  he  says,  and  if  you  can  be 
kind  to  him  in  any  way  you  will  oblige  me.'* 
It  was  in  January,  1863,  that  Chadwick 
and  I  went  to  Memphis,  where  we  staid  at 
the  Gayoso  Hotel,  at  that  time  the  swell 
hotel  of  the  town  and  the  headquarters  of 
several  officers. 

It  was  not  long  after  I  began  to  study 
the  trade  in  cotton  before  I  saw  it  was  a 
bad  business  and  ought  to  be  stopped.  I 
at  once  wrote  Mr.  Stanton  the  following 
letter  which  embodied  my  observations  and 
gave  my  opinion  as  to  what  should  be 
done: 

Memphis,  January  21,  1863. 

Dear  Sir  : — You  will  remember  our  conversations 
on  the  subject  of  excluding  cotton  speculators  from 
the  regions  occupied  by  our  armies  in  the  South.  I 
now  write  to  urge  the  matter  upon  your  attention  as 
a  measure  of  military  necessity. 

The  mania  for  sudden  fortunes  made  in  cotton, 
raging  in  a  vast  population  of  Jews  and  Yankees 
scattered  throughout  this  whole  country,  and  in  this 
town  almost  exceeding  the  numbers  of  the  regular 
residents,  has  to  an  alarming  extent  corrupted  and 
demoralized  the  army.  Every  colonel,  captain,  or 
quartermaster  is  in  secret  partnership  with  some 
operator  in  cotton  ;  every  soldier  dreams  of  adding  a 
bale  of  cotton  to  his  monthly  pay.  I  had  no  concep- 
tion of  the  extent  of  this  evil  until  I  came  and  saw 
for  myself. 

Besides,  the  resources  of  the  rebels  are  inordinately 
increased    from   this   source.      Plenty  of   cotton   is 


brought  in  from  beyond  our  lines,  especially  by  the 
agency  of  Jewish  traders,  who  pay  for  it  ostensibly 
in  treasury  notes,  but  really  in  gold. 

What  I  would  propose  is  that  no  private  purchaser 
of  cotton  shall  be  allowed  in  any  part  of  the  occupied 
region. 

Let  quartermasters  buy  the  article  at  a  fixed  price, 
say  twenty  or  twenty-five  cents  per  pound,  and  for- 
ward it  by  army  transportation  to  proper  centers,  say 
Helena,  Memphis,  or  Cincinnati,  to  be  sold  at  pub- 
lic auction  on  government  account.  Let  the  sales 
take  place  on  regular  fixed  days,  so  that  all  parties 
desirous  of  buying  can  be  sure  when  to  be  present. 

But  little  capital  will  be  required  for  such  an  opera- 
tion. The  sales  being  frequent  and  for  cash  will 
constantly  replace  the  amount  employed  for  the  pur- 
pose. I  should  say  that  two  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars would  be  sufficient  to  conduct  the  movement. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  this  two  hundred  thousand 
dollars  so  employed  would  be  more  than  equal  to 
thirty  thousand  men  added  to  the  national  armies. 

My  pecuniary  interest  is  in  the  continuance  of  the 
present  state  of  things,  for  while  it  lasts  there  are 
occasional  opportunities  of  profit  to  be  made  by  a 
daring  operator ;  but  I  should  be  false  to  my  duty 
did  I,  on  that  account,  fail  to  implore  you  to  put  an 
end  to  an  evil  so  enormous,  so  insidious,  and  so  full 
of  peril  to  the  country. 

My  first  impulse  was  to  hurry  to  Washington  to 
represent  these  things  to  you  in  person  ;  but  my  en- 
gagements here  with  other  persons  will  not  allow  me 
to  return  East  so  speedily.  I  beg  you,  however,  to 
act  without  delay  it  possible.  An  excellent  man  to 
put  at  the  head  of  the  business  would  be  General 
Strong.  I  make  this  suggestion  without  any  idea 
whether  the  employment  would  be  agreeable  to  him. 
Yours  faithfully, 

Charles  A.  Dana. 
Mr.  Stanton. 

P.  S. — Since  writing  the  above  I  have  seen  Gen- 
eral Grant,  who  fully  agrees  with  all  my  statements 
and  suggestions,  except  that  imputing  corruption  to 
every  officer,  which  of  course  I  did  not  intend  to  be 
taken  literally. 

I  have  also  just  attended  a  public  sale  by  the 
quartermaster  here  of  five  hundred  bales  of  cotton, 
confiscated  by  General  Grant  at  Oxford  and  Holly 
Springs.  It  belonged  to  Jacob  Thompson  and  other 
notorious  rebels.  This  cotton  brought  to-day  over  a 
million  and  a  half  of  dollars,  cash.  This  sum  alone 
would  be  five  times  enough  to  set  on  foot  the  system 
I  recommend,  without  drawing  upon  the  treasury  at 
all.  In  fact  there  can  be  no  question  that  by  adopt- 
ing this  system  the  quartermaster's  department  in 
this  valley  would  become  self-supporting,  while  the 
army  would  become  honest  again  and  the  slave- 
holders would  no  longer  find  that  the  rebellion  had 
quadrupled  the  price  of  their  great  staple,  but  only 
doubled  it. 

As  soon  as  I  could  get  away  from  Mem- 
phis I  went  to  Washington,  where  I  had 
many  conversations  with  Mr.  Lincoln  and 
Mr.  Stanton  about  restricting  the  trade  in 
cotton.  They  were  deeply  interested  in  my 
observations,  and  questioned  me  closely 
about  what  I  had  seen.  My  opinion  that 
the  trade  should  be  stopped  had  the  more 
weight  because  I  was  able  to  say,  "  Gen- 
eral Grant  and  every  general  officer  whom  I 
have  seen  hopes  it  will  be  done." 

Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


CHARLES  A.  DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


29 


KoSCOE   CONKLINC. 

Mr.  Conklinf  was  a  Member  of  Congress  from  1858  to  1869.    In  the  latter  year  he  was  defeated  of  reflection,  but  was  reelected  in  1864. 


The  result  of  our  conferences  was  that 
on  March  31,  1863,  Mr.  Lincoln  issued 
a  proclamation  declaring  all  commercial 
intercourse  with  the  States  in  insurrec- 
tion unlawful,  except  when  carried  on 
according  to  the  regulations  prescribed  by 
the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury.  These 
regulations  Mr.  Chase  prepared  at  once. 
At  the  same  time  that  Mr.  Lincoln  issued 
his  proclamation,  Mr.  Stanton  issued  an 
order  forbidding  officers  and  all  other 
members  of  the  army  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  the  trade.  In  spite  of  all  these 
regulations,  however,    and   the   modifica- 


tions of  them  which  experience  brought, 
there  was,  throughout  the  war,  more  or 
less  difficulty  over  cotton  trading. 

SPECIAL    COMMISSIONER    IN    GRANT'S    ARMY. 

From  Washington  I  went  back  to  New 
York.  I  had  not  been  there  long  before 
Mr.  Stanton  sent  for  me  to  come  to  Wash- 
ington. He  wanted  some  one  to  go  to 
Grant's  army,  he  said,  to  report  daily  to 
him  the  military  proceedings,  and  to  give 
such  information  as  would  enable  Mr.  Lin- 
coln and  him  to  settle  their  minds  as  to 
Digitized  by  VjOOQlC 


3° 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


Grant,  about  whom,  at  that  time,  there 
were  many  doubts,  and  against  whom  there 
was  some  complaint. 

•'Will  you  go?"  Mr.  Stanton  asked. 
"  Yes,"  I  said.  "  Very  well,"  he  replied. 
"  The  ostensible  function  I  shall  give  you 
will  be  that  of  a  special  commissioner  of 
the  War  De- 
partment to 
investigate 
the  pay  de- 
par  t  m  e  n  t 
in  Western 
armies,  but 
your  real 
duty  will  be 
to  report  to 
me  every  day 
what  you 
see. ' ' 

On  March 
i  2  t  h  ,  Mr. 
Stanton 
wrote  me  the 
following  let- 
ter: 


Department  to  investigate  and  report  upon  the  con- 
dition of  the  pay  service  in  the  Western  armies.  All 
paymasters  and  assistant  paymasters  will  furnish  to 
the  said  commissioner  for  the  Secretary  of  War  in- 
formation upon  any  matters  concerning  which  he 
makes  inquiry  of  them  as  fully  and  completely  and 
promptly  as  if 'directly  called  for  by  the  Secretary  of 
War.  Railroad  agents,  quartermasters,  and  commis- 
sioners will  give 


Army  ) 

Anson  > 

Action  )  columns 


Message  or  division  otSJTjfaZuTTZTlS 

COMMENCKMEHT  WORDS. 

Astor       )  Anderson  \ 

Advance  > Ambush 

Artillery  )  columns  Agree 


witfwi  ft  1 1  ttsTsxtu***Mt*xrzfmtuj 


ROUTE  t— Up  the column— dowa  the.C/7!— «p  ttae.£?...— 

down  tbe.<4f..— up  the./*,  —down  tho../...— up  the 


At/        \ 


OtrmtJ  ! 


7 
f 

'0 
/' 


/*- 

/J 

//+ 


War  Depart- 
ment, Wash- 
ington City, 
Alarch  12, 
1863. 

Dear  Sir: — I 
enclose  you  a 
copy  of  your  or- 
der of  appoint- 
ment and  the  or- 
der fixing  your 
compensation, 
with  a  letter  to 
Generals  Sum- 
ner,* Grant,  and 
Rosecrans,  and 
a  draft  for  one 
thousand  dol- 
lars. Having 
explained  the 
purposes  of  your 
appointment  to 
you  personally, 
no  further  in- 
structions will  be 
given  unless 
special  ly  re- 
quired. Please 
acknowledge  the 

receipt  of  this  and  proceed  as  early  as  possible  to  your 
duties.  Yours  truly, 

Edwin  M.  Stanton. 
C.  A.  Dana,  Esq.,  New  York. 

My  commission  read: 

Ordered,  That  C.  A.  Dana,  Esq.,  be  and  he  is 
hereby  appointed  special  commissioner  of  the  War 

*  General  E.  V.  Sumner,  who  had  iust  been  relieved  at  his 
own  reauest  from  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  and  appointed 
to  the  Department  of  the  Missouri.  He  was  on  his  way 
thither  when  he  died  on  March  iist. 


I/me<r  „ 

C%/iJh/uaA/ 


&***/«£     \     AT    J  &4n**uJV 

PAGE    FROM    KEY   TO   THE    DANA    SPECIAL   CIPHER. 

The  key  to  the  Dana  Cipher  bears  Mr.  Stanton's  own  mark,  the  words  "  Dana  Special  "  being 
written  in  his  hand  on  the  first  page.  A  duplicate  key  was  kept  at  the  War  Department  in  Wash- 
ington. By  changing  the  number  of  columns  and  their  order  of  reading,  three  combinations  of 
cipher  were  possible  from  this  page  alone.  As  there  were  eight  similar  pages  the  cipher  could 
be  varied  frequently,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  Mr.  Dana's  cipher  books  show  that  he  usually 
employed  the  "  route  "  marked  on  the  above  page  and  cited  in  his  text  as  an  illustration. 


him  transporta- 
tion and  subsist- 
ence. All  officers 
and  persons  in 
the  service  will 
aid  him  in  the 
performance  of 
his  duties  and 
will  afford  him 
assistance,  cour- 
tesy, and  protec- 
tion. The  said 
commissioner 
will  make  report 
to  this  depart- 
ment as  occasion 
may  require. 

The  letters 
of  introduc- 
tion and  ex- 
planation to 
the  generals 
were  identi- 
cal: 


General'. — 
Charles  A.  Dana, 
Esq.,  has  been 
appointed  a 
Special  Commis- 
sioner of  this 
Department  to 
investigate  and 
report  upon  the 
condition  of  the 
pay  service  in 
the  Western  ar- 
mies. You  will 
please  aid  him 
in  the  perform- 
ance of  his  du- 
ties and  com- 
municate to  him 
fully  your  views 
and  wishes  in  re- 
spect to  that 
branch  of  the 
service  in  your 
command,  and 
also  give  to  him 
such  information  as  you  may  deem  beneficial  to  the 
service.  He  is  specially  commended  to  your  courtesy 
and  protection.  Yours  truly, 

Edwin  M.  Stanton. 

I  at  once  started,  for  Memphis,  going  by 
way  of  Cairo  and  Columbus. 

THE    DANA    CIPHER. 

I  sent  my  first  despatch  to  the  War  De- 
partment from  Colt 


ftaJc^uJ 

\fet 

\%/Ub 


XV^&&38&§t 


CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


3i 


It  was  sent  by  a  secret  cipher  furnished 
by  the  War  Department,  which  I  used  my- 
self, for  throughout  the  war  I  was  my  own 
cipher  clerk.  The  ordinary  method  at  the 
various  headquarters  was  for  the  sender 
to  write  out  the  despatch  in  -full,  after 
which  it  was  translated  from  plain  English 
into  the  agreed  cipher  by  a  telegraph  oper- 
ator or  clerk,  retained  for  that  exchisive 
purpose,  who  understood  it,  and  by  an- 
other retranslated  back  again  at  the  other 
end  of  the  line.  So  whatever  military 
secret  was  transmitted  was  at  the  mercy 
always  of  at  least  two  outside  persons,  be- 
sides running  the  gauntlet  of  other  prying 
eyes.  Despatches  written  in  complex 
cipher  codes  were  often  difficult  to  unravel, 
unless  transmitted  by  the  operator  with 
the  greatest  precision.  A  wrong  word 
sometimes  destroyed  the  sense  of  an  en- 
tire despatch,  and  important  movements 
were  delayed  thereby.  This  explains  the 
oft-repeated  41I  do  not  understand  your 
telegram  "  found  in  the  official  correspond- 
ence of  the  war  period. 

I  have,  since  the  war,  become  familiar 
with  a  great  many  ciphers,  but  I  never 
found  one  which  was  more  satisfactory 
than  that  I  used  in  my  messages  to  Mr. 
Stanton.  In  preparing  my  message  I  first 
wrote  it  out  in  lines  of  a  given  number  of 
words,  spaced  regularly  so  as  to  form 
five,  six,  seven,  eight,  nine,  and  ten  col- 
umns. My  key  contained  various  "  routes  " 
to  be  followed  in  writing  out  the  messages 
for  transmission.  Thus  a  five-column 
message  had  one  route,  a  six-column  an- 
other, and  so  on.  The  route  was  indi- 
cated by  a  "commencement  word."  If  I 
had  put  my  message  into  five  columns,  I 
would  write  the  word  "  army,"  or  any  one 
in  a  list  of  nine  words,  at  the  beginning. 
The  receiver,  on  looking  for  that  word  in 
his  key,  would  see  that  he  was  to  write 
out  what  he  had  received  in  lines  of  five 
words,  thus  forming  five  columns,  and 
then  he  was  to  read  it  down  the  fifth 
column,  up  the  third,  down  the  fourth,  up 
the  second,  down  the  first.  At  the  end  of 
each  column   an   "extra"    or    "check" 


word  was  added  as  a  blind  ;  a  list  of 
"blind"  words  was  also  printed  in  the 
key,  with  each  route,  which  could  be  in- 
serted if  wished  at  the  end  of  each  line  so 
as  still  further  to  deceive  curious  people 
who  did  not  have  the  key.  The  key  con- 
tained a  large  number  of  cipher  words — 
thus,  P.  H.  Sheridan  was  "soap"  or 
"  Somerset;  "  President  was  "  Pembroke  " 
or  "  Penfield;  "  instead  of  writing  "  there 
has  been,"  I  wrote  "  maroon  ;  "  instead  of 
secession,  "mint;  "  instead  of  Vicksburg, 
"  Cupid."  My  own  cipher  was  "  spunky  " 
or  "squad."  The  months,  days,  hours, 
numerals,  and  alphabet  all  had  ciphers. 

The  only  message  sent  by  this  cipher  to 
be  translated  by  an  outsider  on  the  route, 
so  far  as  I  know,  was  that  one  of  4  p.m., 
September  20,  1863,  in  which  I  reported 
the  Union  defeat  at  Chickamauga.  Gen- 
eral R.  S.  Granger,  who  was  then  at  Nash- 
ville, was  at  the  telegraph  office  waiting  for 
news  when  my  despatch  passed  through. 
The  operator  guessed  out  the  despatch,  as 
he  afterward  confessed,  and  it  was  passed 
around  Nashville.  The  agent  of  the  As- 
sociated Press  at  Louisville  sent  out  a  pri- 
vate printed  circular  quoting  me  as  an 
authority  for  reporting  the  battle  as  a 
total  defeat,  and  in  Cincinnati  Horace 
Maynard  repeated,  the  same  day  of  the 
battle,  the  entire  second  sentence  of  the 
despatch,  "Chickamauga  is  as  fatal  a 
name  in  our  history  as  Bull  Run." 

This  premature  disclosure  to  the  public 
of  what  was  only  the  truth,  well  known  at 
the  front,  caused  a  great  deal  of  trouble. 
I  immediately  set  on  foot  an  investigation 
to  discover  who  had  penetrated  our  cipher 
code,  and  soon  arrived  at  a  satisfactory 
understanding  of  the  matter,  of  which  Mr. 
Stanton  was  duly  informed.  No  blame 
could  attach  to  me,  as  was  manifest  upon 
the  inquiry;  nevertheless,  the  sensation 
resulted  in  considerable  annoyance  all 
along  the  line  from  Chattanooga  to  Wash- 
ington. I  suggested  to  Mr.  Stanton  the 
advisability  of  concocting  a  new  and  more 
difficult  cipher;  but  it  was  never  changed, 
so  far  as  I  now  remember. 


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DREAMERS. 

By  Rosalie  M.  Jonas. 
With  drawing  by  Louise  L.  Heustis. 

Drums  and  trumpets  thrown  aside, 
Eyelids  drooping,  "arms  at  rest," 
Fast  asleep  on  mother's  breast. 

Lo!  this  dimpled  warrior  dreams 
Of  far  conquests  that  shall  be 
When  a  "  grown-up  man"  is  he. 

And  she  dreams,  who  holds  him  close, 
"  I  shall  always  keep  him  so, 
Safely  shielded  from  life's  woe." 


Dreamers  both!   but  bide  ye,  Fate, 
On  the  threshold  of  their  door, 
For  a  little  moment  more. 


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ST.    IVES 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF    A    FRENCH    PRISONER    IN    ENGLAND. 

By  Robert  Louis  Stevenson, 

Author  of  "  Treasure  Island,"  "  Kidnapped,"  etc. 

CONCLUSION. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII    (Continued). 

EVENTS    OF    MONDAY  :      THE     LAWYER'S 
PARTY. 

IT  is  a  strange  thing  how  young  men  in 
their  teens  go  down  at  the  mere  wind 
of  the  coming  of  men  of  twenty-five  and 
upwards!  The  vapid  ones  fled  without 
thought  of  resistance  before  the  major  and 
me;  a  few  dallied  awhile  in  the  neighbor- 
hood— so  to  speak,  with  their  fingers  in 
their  mouths — but  presently  these  also  fol- 
lowed the  rout,  and  we  remained  face  to 
face  before  Flora.  There  was  a  draught  in 
that  corner  by  the  door;  she  had  thrown 
her  pelisse  over  her  bare  arms  and  neck, 
and  the  dark  fur  of  the  trimming  set  them 
off.  She  shone  by  contrast;  the  light 
played  on  her  smooth  skin  to  admiration, 
and  the  color  changed  in  her  excited  face. 
For  the  least  fraction  of  a  second  she 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  her  rival 
swains,  and  seemed  to  hesitate.  Then 
she  addressed  Chevenix: 

•*You  are  coming  to  the  Assembly,  of 
course.  Major  Chevenix  ?"  said  she. 

"  I  fear  not;  I  fear  I  shall  be  otherwise 
engaged,"  he  replied.  "  Even  the  pleas- 
ure of  dancing  with  you,  Miss  Flora,  must 
give  way  to  duty." 

For  awhile  the  talk  ran  harmlessly  on 
the  weather,  and  then  branched  off  to- 
wards the  war.  It  seemed  to  be  by  no 
one's  fault;  it  was  in  the  air,  and  had  to 
come. 

"  Good  news  from  the  scene  of  opera- 
tions," said  the  major. 

"Good  news  while  it  lasts,"  I  said. 
"  But  will  Miss  Gilchrist  tell  us  her  pri- 
vate thought  upon  the  war  ?  In  her  admi- 
ration for  the  victors,  does  not  there  min- 
gle some  pity  for  the  vanquished  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  sir,"  she  said,  with  animation, 
"only  too  much  of  it!  War  is  a  subject 
that  I  do  not  think  should  be  talked  of  to 


a  girl.  I  am,  I  have  to  be — what  do  you 
call  it  ? — a  non-combatant  ?  And  to  remind 
me  of  what  others  have  to  do  and  suffer: 
no,  it  is  not  fair!  " 

"  Miss  Gilchrist  has  the  tender  female 
heart,"  said  Chevenix. 

"  Do  not  be  too  sure  of  that! "  she 
cried.  "  I  would  love  to  be  allowed  to 
fight,  myself!  " 

"  On  which  side  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Can  you  ask?"  she  exclaimed.  "I 
am  a  Scottish  girl!  " 

"  She  is  a  Scottish  girl!  "  repeated  the 
major,  looking  at  me.  "  And  no  one 
grudges  you  her  pity!  " 

"  And  I  glory  in  every  grain  of  it  she 
has  to  spare,"  said  I.  "  Pity  is  akin  to 
love." 

"  Well,  and  let  us  put  that  question  to 
Miss  Gilchrist.  It  is  for  her  to  decide, 
and  for  us  to  bow  to  the  decision.  Is  pity, 
Miss  Flora, or  is  admiration,  nearest  love?" 

"Oh,  come,"  said  I,  "let  us  be  more 
concrete.  Lay  before  the  lady  a  com- 
plete case:  describe  your  man,  then  I'll  de- 
scribe mint,  and  Miss  Flora  shall  decide." 

"  I  think  I  see  your  meaning,"  said  he, 
**  and  I'll  try.  You  think  that  pity — and 
the  kindred  sentiments — have  the  greatest 
power  upon  the  heart.  I  think  more  no- 
bly of  women.  To  my  view,  the  man 
they  love  will  first  of  all  command  their 
respect;  he  will  be  steadfast — proud,  if 
you  please;  dry,  possibly — but  of  all  things 
steadfast.  They  will  look  at  him  in 
doubt;  at  last  they  will  see  that  stern  face 
which  he  presents  to  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  soften  to  them  alone.  First,  trust, 
I  say.  It  is  so  that  a  woman  loves  who  is 
worthy  of  heroes." 

"  Your  man  is  very  ambitious,  sir,"  said 
I,  "  and  very  much  of  a  hero!  Mine  is  a 
humbler  and,  I  would  fain  think,  a  more 
human  dog.  He  is  one  with  no  particular 
trust  in  himself,  with  no  superior  steadfast- 
ness to  be  admired  for,  who  sees  a  lady's 
face,   who  hears  her  voice,  and,  without 


Copyright,  1897,  by  the  S.  S.  McClure  Co.,  New  York. 


Digitized  by 


Goc^le 


34 


ST.  IVES. 


any  phrase  about  the  matter,  falls  in  love. 
What  does  he  ask  for,  then,  but  pity  ? — 
pity  for  his  weakness,  pity  for  his  love, 
which  is  his  life.  You  would  make  women 
always  the  inferiors,  gaping  up  at  your 
imaginary  lover;  he,  like  a  marble  statue, 
with  his  nose  in  the  .air!  But  God  has 
been  wiser  than  you ;  and  the  most  stead- 
fast of  your  heroes  may  prove  human, 
after  all.  We  appeal  to  the  queen  for 
judgment,"  I  added,  turning  and  bowing 
before  Flora. 

44  And  how  shall  the  queen  judge  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  I  must  give  you  an  answer  that 
is  no  answer  at  all.  *  The  wind  bloweth 
where  it  listeth ' :  she  goes  where  her 
heart  goes."  Her  face  flushed  as  she 
said  it;  mine  also,  for  I  read  in  it  a  declara- 
tion, and  my  heart  swelled  for  joy.  But 
Chevenix  grew  pale. 

44  You  make  of  life  a  very  dreadful  kind 
of  a  lottery,  ma'am,"  said  he.  "  But  I  will 
not  despair.  Honest  and  unornamental 
is  still  my  choice."  And  I  must  say  he 
looked  extremely  handsome  and  very 
amusingly  like  the  marble  statue  with  its 
nose  in  the  air  to  which  I  had  compared 
him. 

44 1  cannot  imagine  how  we  got  upon 
this  subject,"  said  Flora. 

"  Madam,  it  was  through  the  war,"  re- 
plied Chevenix. 

14  All  roads  lead  to  Rome,"  I  com- 
mented. "What  else  would  you  expect 
Mr.  Chevenix  and  myself  to  talk  of  ? " 

About  this  time  I  was  conscious  of  a 
certain  bustle  and  movement  in  the  room 
behind  me,  but  did  not  pay  to  it  that  de- 
gree of  attention  which  perhaps  would 
have  been  wise.  There  came  a  certain 
change  in  Flora's  face  ;  she  signaled  re- 
peatedly with  her  fan;  her  eyes  appealed 
to  me  obsequiously;  there  could  be  no 
doubt  that  she  wanted  something — as  well 
as  I  could  itiake  out,  that  I  should  go  away 
and  leave  the  field  clear  for  my  rival, 
which  I  had  not  the  least  idea  of  doing. 
At  last  she  rose  from  her  chair  with  impa- 
tience. "  I  think  it  time  you  were  saying 
good-night,  Mr.  Ducie!  "  she  said.  I  could 
not  in  the  least  see  why,  and  said  so. 
Whereupon  she  gave  me  this  appalling 
answer,  44  My  aunt  is  coming  out  of  the 
card-room."  In  less  time  than  it  takes  to 
tell,  I  had  made  my  bow  and  my  escape. 

Looking  back  from  the  doorway,  I  was 
)rivileged  to  see,  for  a  moment,  the  august 
profile  and  gold  eyeglasses  of  Miss  Gil- 
christ issuing  from  the  card-room;  and 
the  sight  lent  me  wings.  I  stood  not  on 
the  order  of  my  going;  and  a  moment  after, 


I  was  on  the  pavement  of  Castle  Street, 
and  the  lighted  windows  shone  down  on 
me,  and  were  crossed  by  ironical  shadows 
of  those  who  had  remained  behind. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

EVENTS  ON   TUESDAY:    THE   TOILS  CLOSING. 

This  day  began  with  a  surprise.  I  found 
a  letter  on  my  breakfast-table  addressed 
to  Edward  Ducie,  Esquire;  and  at  first  I 
was  startled  beyond  measure.  "  Con- 
science doth  make  cowards  of  us  all!  " 
When  I  had  opened  it,  it  proved  to  be  only 
a  note  from  the  lawyer,  enclosing  a  card 
for  the  Assembly  Ball  on  Thursday  even- 
ing. Shortly  after,  as  I  was  composing 
my  mind  with  a  cigar  at  one  of  the  win- 
dows of  the  sitting-room,  and  Rowley, 
having  finished  the  light  share  of  work 
that  fell  to  him,  sat  not  far  off  tootling 
with  great  spirit  and  a  marked  preference 
for  the  upper  octave,  Ronald  was  suddenly 
shown  in.  1  got  him  a  cigar,  drew  in  a 
chair  to  the  side  of  the  fire,  and  installed 
him  there — I  was  going  to  say,  at  his  ease, 
but  no  expression  could  be  farther  from 
the  truth.  He  was  plainly  on  pins  and 
needles,  did  not  know  whether  to  take  or 
to  refuse  the  cigar,  and,  after  he  had 
taken  it,  did  not  know  whether  to  light  or  to 
return  it.  I  saw  he  had  something  to  say; 
I  did  not  think  it  was  his  own  something; 
and  I  was  ready  to  offer  a  large.bet  it  was 
really  something  of  Major  Chevenix's. 

44  Well,  and  so  here  you  are!  "  I  ob- 
served, with  pointless  cordiality,  for  I 
was  bound  I  should  do  nothing  to  help 
him  out.  If  he  were,  indeed,  here  running 
errands  for  my  rival,  he  might  have  a  fair 
field,  but  certainly  no  favor. 

44  The  fact  is,"  he  began,  "  I  would 
rather  see  you  alone." 

44  Why,  certainly,"  I  replied.  "  Row- 
ley, you  can  step  into  the  bedroom.  My 
dear  fellow,"  I  continued,  "this  sounds 
serious.     Nothing  wrong,  I  trust." 

41  Well,  I'll  be  quite  honest,"  said  he. 
I  am  a  good  deal  bothered." 

44  And  I  bet  I  know  why!  "  I  exclaimed. 
"  And  I  bet  I  can  put  you  to  rights, 
too." 

44  What  do  you  mean!  "  he  asked. 

14  You  must  be  hard  up,"  said  I,  "and 
all  I  can  say  is,  you've  come  to  the  right 
place.  If  you  have  the  least  use  for  a 
hundred  pounds,  or  any  such  trifling  sum 
as  that,  please  mention  it.  It's  here,  quite 
at  your  service." 


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35 


"I  am  sure  it  is  most  kind  of  you," 
said  Ronald,  "and  the  truth  is,  though 
I  can't  think  how  you  guessed  it,  that  I 
really  am  a  little  behind  board.  But  I 
haven't  come  to  talk  about  that." 

"  No,  I  daresay!  "  cried  I.  "  Not  worth 
talking  about!  But  remember,  Ronald, 
you  and  I  are  on  different  sides  of  the 
business.  Remember  that  you  did  me  one 
of  those  services  that  make  men  friends 
forever.  And  since  I  have  had  the  fortune 
to  come  into  a  fair  share  of  money,  just 
oblige  me,  and  consider  so  much  of  it  as 
your  own." 

"No,"  he  said,  "I  couldn't  take  it;  I 
couldn't,  really.  Besides,  the  fact  is,  I've 
come  on  a  very  different  matter.  It's 
about  my  sister,  St.  Ives,"  and  he  shook 
his  head  menacingly  at  me. 

"  You're  quite  sure  ?  "  I  persisted.  "  It's 
here,  at  your  service — up  to  five  hundred 
pounds,  if  you  like.  Well,  all  right;  only 
remember  where  it  is,  when  you  do  want 
it." 

"  Oh,  please  let  me  alone!  "  cried  Ron- 
ald. "I've  come  to  say  something  un- 
pleasant; and  how  on  earth  can  I  do  it,  if 
you  don't  give  a  fellow  a  chance  ?  It's 
about  my  sister,  as  I  said.  You  can  see 
for  yourself  that  it  can't  be  allowed  to  go 
on.  It's  compromising;  it  don't  lead  to 
anything;  and  you're  not  the  kind  of  man 
(you  must  feel  it  yourself)  that  I  can  al- 
low my  female  relatives  to  have  anything 
to  do  with.  I  hate  saying  this,  St.  Ives; 
it  looks  like  hitting  a  man  when  he's  down, 
you  know;  and  I  told  the  major  I  very 
much  disliked  it  from  the  first.  However, 
it  had  to  be  said;  and  now  it  has  been, 
and,  between  gentlemen,  it  shouldn't  be 
necessary  to  refer  to  it  again." 

"  It's  compromising;  it  doesn't  lead  to 
anything;  not  the  kind  of  man,"  I  re- 
peated thoughtfully.  "Yes,  I  believe  I 
understand,  and  shall  make  haste  to  put 
myself  en  regie.*1  I  stood  up,  and  laid 
my  cigar  down.  "  Mr.  Gilchrist,"  said  I, 
with  a  bow,  "  in  answer  to  your  very  nat- 
ural observations,  I  beg  to  offer  myself  as 
a  suitor  for  your  sister's  hand.  I  am  a 
man  of  title,  of  which  we  think  lightly  in 
France,  but  of  ancient  lineage,  which  is 
everywhere  prized.  I  can  display  thirty- 
two  quarterings  without  a  blot.  My  ex- 
pectations are  certainly  above  the  aver- 
age: I  believe  my  uncle's  income  averages 
about  thirty  thousand  pounds,  though  I 
admit  I  was  not  careful  to  inform  my- 
self. Put  it  anywhere  between  fifteen 
and  fifty  thousand  ;  it  is  certainly  not 
less." 


"All  this  is  very  easy  to  say,"  said 
Ronald,  with  a  pitying  smile.  "  Unfortu- 
nately, these  things  are  in  the  air." 

"Pardon  me — in  Buckinghamshire," 
said  I,  smiling. 

"Well,  what  I  mean  is,  my  dear  St. 
Ives,  that  you  can 7 prove  them,"  he  con- 
tinued. "  They  might  just  as  well  not  be: 
do  you  follow  me?  You  can't  bring  us 
any  third  party  to  back  you  up." 

"  Oh,  come!  "  cried  I,  springing  up  and 
hurrying  to  the  table.  "  You  must  excuse 
me!"  I  wrote  Romaine's  address. 
"There  is  my  reference,  Mr.  Gilchrist. 
Until  you  have  written  to  him,  and  re- 
ceived his  negative  answer,  I  have  a  right 
to  be  treated,  and  I  shall  see  that  you 
treat  me,  as  a  gentleman."  He  was 
brought  up  with  a  round  turn  at  that. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  St.  Ives,"  said  he. 
"  Believe  me,  I  had  no  wish  to  be  offen- 
sive. But  there's  the  difficulty  of  this 
affair;  I  can't  make  any  of  my  points 
without  offence!  You  must  excuse  me, 
it's  not  my  fault.  But,  at  any  rate,  you 
must  see  for  yourself  this  proposal  of 
marriage  is — is  merely  impossible,  my 
dear  fellow.  It's  nonsense!  Our  coun- 
tries are  at  war;  you  are  a  prisoner." 

"  My  ancestor  of  the  time  of  the 
Ligue,"  I  replied,  "married  a  Huguenot 
lady  out  of  the  Saintonge,  riding  two 
hundred  miles  throujgh  an  enemy's- country 
to  bring  off  his  bride;  and  it  was  a  happy 
marriage." 

"Well!"  he  began;  and  then  looked 
down  into  the  fire,  and  became  silent. 

"Well  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Well,  there's  this  business  of — Gogue- 
lat,"  said  he,  still  looking  at  the  coals  in 
the  grate. 

"What!"  I  exclaimed,  starting  in  my 
chair.     "  What's  that  you  say  ?  " 

"  This  business  about  Goguelat,"  he  re- 
peated. 

"Ronald,"  said  I,  "this  is  not  your 
doing.  These  are  not  your  own  words.  I 
know  where  they  came  from:  a  coward  put 
them  in  your  mouth." 

"St.  Ives!"  he  cried,  "why  do  you 
make  it  so  hard  for  me  ?  and  where's  the 
use  of  insulting  other  people  ?  The  plain 
English  is,  that  I  can't  hear  of  any  pro- 
posal of  marriage  from  a  man  under  a 
charge  like  that.  You  must  see  it  for 
yourself,  man !  It's  the  most  absurd  thing 
I  ever  heard  of!  And  you  go  on  forcing 
me  to  argue  with  you,  too!  " 

"  Because  I  have  had  an  affair  of  honor 
which  terminated  unhappily,  you — a  young 
soldier,  or   next-door    to    it — refuse    my 


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ST.  IVES. 


offer?  Do  I  understand  you  aright?" 
said  I. 

11  My  dear  fellow!"  he  wailed,  "of 
course  you  can  twist  my  words,  if  you  like. 
You  say  it  was  an  affair  of  honor.  Well, 
I  can't,  of  course  tell  you  that — I  can't — 
I  mean,  you  must  see  that  that's  just  the 
point!     Was  it  ?     I  don't  know." 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you," 
said  I. 

"Well,  other  people  say  the  reverse, 
you  see!  " 

"  They  lie,  Ronald,  and  I  will  prove  it 
in  time." 

"  The  short  and  long  of  it  is,  that  any 
man  who  is  so  unfortunate  as  to  have  such 
things  said  about  him  is  not  the  man  to  be 
my  brother-in-law,"  he  cried. 

"  Do  you  know  who  will  be  my  first  wit- 
ness at  the  court?  Arthur  Chevenix!" 
said  I. 

"I  don't  care!"  he  cried,  rising  from 
his  chair  and  beginning  to  pace  outra- 
geously about  the  room.  "  VVhat  do  you 
mean,  St.  Ives  ?  What  is  this  about  ? 
It's  like  a  dream,  I  declare  !  You  made 
an  offer,  and  I  have  refused  it.  I  don't 
like  it,  I  don't  want  it;  and  whatever  I 
did,  or  didn't,  wouldn't  matter — my  aunt 
wouldn't  hear  of  it,  anyway!  Can't  you 
take  your  answer,  man  ?  " 

"You  must  remember,  Ronald,  that 
we  are  playing  with  edged  tools,"  said  I. 
"An  offer  of  marriage  is  a  delicate  sub- 
ject to  handle.  You  have  refused,  and 
you  have  justified  your  refusal  by  several 
statements.  First,  that  I  was  an  impos- 
tor; second,  that  our  countries  were  at 
war  ;  and  third — no,  I  will  speak,"  said 
I;  "  you  can  answer  when  I  have  done, — 
and  third,  that  I  had  dishonorably  killed 
— or  was  said  to  have  done  so — the  man 
Goguelat.  Now,  my  dear  fellow,  these 
are  very  awkward  grounds  to  be  taking. 
From  any  one  else's  lips  I  need  scarce 
tell  you  how  I  should  resent  them;  but 
my  hands  are  tied.  I  have  so  much  grati- 
tude for  you,  without  talking  of  the  love 
I  bear  your  sister,  that  you  insult  me, 
when  you  do  so,  under  the  cover  of  a 
complete  impunity.  I  must  feel  the  pain 
— and  I  do  feel  it  acutely — I  can  do  nothing 
to  protect  myself." 

He  had  been  anxious  enough  to  inter- 
rupt me  in  the  beginning;  but  now,  and 
after  I  had  ceased,  he  stood  a  long  while 
silent. 

"  St.  Ives,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  think  I 
had  better  go  away.  This  has  been  very 
irritating.  I  never  at  all  meant  to  say 
anything  of  the  kind,  and  I  apologize  to 


you.  I  have  all  the  esteem  for  you  that 
one  gentleman  should  have  for  another. 
I  only  meant  to  tell  you — to  show  you 
what  had  influenced  my  mind;  and  that, 
in  short,  the  thing  was  impossible.  One 
thing  you  may  be  quite  sure  of:  /shall  do 
nothing  against  you.  Will  you  shake 
hands  before  I  go  away  ?  "  he  blurted  out. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  agree  with  you — the 
interview  has  been  irritating.  Let  by- 
gones be  bygones.     Good-by,  Ronald." 

"Good-by,  St.  Ives!"  he  returned. 
"  I'm  heartily  sorry." 

And  with  that  he  was  gone. 

The  windows  of  my  own  sitting-room 
looked  toward  the  north;  but  the  entrance 
passage  drew  its  light  from  the  direction  of 
the  square.  Hence  I  was  able  to  observe 
Ronald's  departure,  his  very  disheartened 
gait,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  joined, 
about  half-way,  by  no  less  a  man  than 
Major  Chevenix.  At  this,  I  could  scarce 
keep  from  smiling;  so  unpalatable  an  in- 
terview must  be  before  the  pair  of  them, 
and  I  could  hear  their  voices,  clashing 
like  crossed  swords,  in  that  eternal  antiph- 
ony  of  "I  told  you,"  and  "I  told  you 
not."  Without  doubt,  they  had  gained 
very  little  by  their  visit;  but  then  I  had 
gained  less  than  nothing,  and  had  been 
bitterly  dispirited  into  the  bargain.  Ron- 
ald had  stuck  to  his  guns  and  refused  me 
to  the  last.  It  was  no  news;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  could  not  be  contorted  into 
good  news.  I  was  now  certain  that  dur- 
ing my  temporary  absence  in  France,  all 
irons  would  be  put  into  the  fire,  and  the 
world  turned  upside  down,  to  make  Flora 
disown  the  obtrusive  Frenchman  and  ac- 
cept Chevenix.  Without  doubt  she  would 
resist  these  instances;  but  the  thought  of 
them  did  not  please  me,  and  I  felt  she 
should  be  warned  and  prepared  for  the 
battle. 

It  was  no  use  to  try  and  see  her  now, 
but  I  promised  myself  early  that  evening 
to  return  to  Swanston.  In  the  meantime 
I  had  to  make  all  my  preparations,  and 
look  the  coming  journey  in  the  face.  Here 
in  Edinburgh  I  was  within  four  miles  of 
the  sea,  yet  the  business  of  approaching 
random  fishermen  with  my  hat  in  one  hand 
and  a  knife  in  the  other,  appeared  so  des- 
perate, that  I  saw  nothing  for  it  but  to  re- 
trace my  steps  over  the  northern  counties, 
and  knock  a  second  time  at  the  doors  of 
Birchell  Fenn.  To  do  this,  money  would 
be  necessary;  and  after  leaving  my  paper 
in  the  hands  of  Flora  I  had  still  a  balance 
of  about  fifteen  hundred  pounds.  Or  rather 
I  may  say  I  had  them  and  I  had  them  not; 


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ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON, 


37 


for  after  my  luncheon  with  Mr.  Robbie  I 
had  placed  the  amount,  all  but  thirty 
pounds  of  change,  in  a  bank  in  George 
Street,  on  a  deposit  receipt  in  the  name  of 
Mr.  Rowley.  This  I  had  designed  to  be 
my  gift  to  him,  in  case  I  must  suddenly 
depart.  But  now,  thinking  better  of  the 
arrangement,  I  had  despatched  my  little 
man,  cockade  and  all,  to  lift  the  fifteen 
hundred. 

He  was  not  long  gone,  and  returned 
with  a  flushed  face  and  the  deposit  receipt 
still  in  his  hand. 

"  No  go,"  Mr.  Anne,"  says  he. 

"  How's  that  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  found  the  place  all  right, 
and  no  mistake,"  said  he.  "But  I  tell 
you  wot  gave  me  a  blue  fright!  There 
was  a  customer  standing  by  the  door,  and 
I  reckonized  him!  Who  do  you  think  it 
was,  Mr.  Anne  ?  W'y,  that  same  Red- 
Breast — him  I  had  breakfast  with  near 
Aylesbury." 

"You  are  sure  you  are  not  mistaken  ?  " 
I  asked. 

"  Certain  sure,"  he  replied.  "  Not  Mr. 
Lavender,  I  don't  mean,  sir;  I  mean  the 
other  party.  '  Wot's  he  doin'  Here?' 
says  I.     '  It  don't  look  right.'  " 

"  Not  by  any  means,"  I  agreed. 

I  walked  to  and  fro  in  the  apartment 
reflecting.  This  particular  Bow  Street 
runner  might  be  here  by  accident;  but  it 
was  to  imagine  a  singular  play  of  coinci- 
dence that  he,  who  had  met  Rowley  and 
spoken  with  him  in  the  "  Green  Dragon," 
hard  by  Aylesbury,  should  be  now  in  Scot- 
land, where  he  could  have  no  legitimate 
business,  and  by  the  doors  of  the  bank 
where  Rowley  kept  his  account. 

"  Rowley,"  said  I,  "  he  didn't  see  you, 
did  he?" 

"  Never  a  fear,  "quoth  Rowley.  "  W'y, 
Mr.  Anne,  sir,  if  he  'ad  you  wouldn't 
have  seen  me  any  more!  I  ain't  a  hass, 
sir!" 

"  Well,  my  boy,  you  can  put  that  receipt 
in  your  pocket.  You'll  have  no  more  use 
for  it  till  you're  quite  clear  of  me.  Don't 
lose  it,  though;  it's  your  share  cf  the 
Christmas-box:  fifteen  hundred  pounds 
all  for  yourself." 

*'  Begging  your  pardon,  Mr.  Anne,  sir, 
but  wot  for  ?  "  said  Rowley. 

"  To  set  up  a  public-house  upon,"  said  I. 

"  If  you'll  excuse  me,  sir,  I  ain't  got  any 
call  to  set  up  a  public-house,  sir,"  he  re- 
plied, stoutly.  "And  I  tell  you  wot,  sir, 
it  seems  to  me  I'm  reether  young  for  the 
billet.  I'm  your  body-servant,  Mr.  Anne, 
or  else  I'm  nothink." 


"Well,  Rowley,"  I  said,  "  I  II  tell  you 
what  it's  for.  It's  for  the  good  service 
you  have  done  me,  of  which  1  don't  care 
— and  don't  dare — to  speak.  It's  for 
your  loyalty  ancl  cheerfulness,  my  dear 
boy.  I  had  meant  it  for  you;  but  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  it's  past  mending  now — it 
has  to  be  yours.  Since  that  man  is  wait- 
ing by  the  bank,  the  money  can't  be 
touched  until  I'm  gone." 

"Until  you're  gone,  sir?"  reechoed 
Rowley.  "  You  don't  go  anywheres  with- 
out me,  I  can  tell  you  that,  Mr.  Anne, 
sir!" 

"  Yes,  my  boy,"  said  I,  "  we  are  going 
to  part  very  soon  now;  probably  to-mor- 
row. And  it's  for  my  sake,  Rowley! 
Depend  upon  it,  if  there  was  any  reason 
at  all  for  that  Bow  Street  man  being  at  the 
bank,  he  was  not  there  to  look  out  for 
you.  How  they  could  have  found  out 
about  the  account  so  early  is  more  than  I 
can  fathom;  some  strange  coincidence 
must  have  played  me  false!  But  there 
the  fact  is;  and,  Rowley,  I'll  not  only 
have  to  say  farewell  to  you  presently,  I'll 
have  to  ask  you  to  stay  indoors  until  I  can 
say  it.  Remember,  my  boy,  it's  only  so 
that  you  can  serve  me  now." 

"W'y,  sir,  you  say  the  word,  and  of 
course  I'll  do  it!  "  he  cried.  "  '  Nothink 
by  'alves,'  is  my  motto!  I'm  your  man, 
through  thick  and  thin,  live  or  die,  I  am!  " 

In  the  meantime  there  was  nothing  to  be 
done  till  towards  sunset.  My  only  chance 
now  was  to  come  again  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible to  speech  of  Flora,  who  was  my  only 
practicable  banker;  and  not  before  even- 
ing was  it  worth  while  to  think  of  that. 
I  might  compose  myself  as  well  as  I  was 
able  over  the  "  Caledonian  Mercury,"  with 
its  ill  news  of  the  campaign  of  France 
and  belated  documents  about  the  retreat 
from  Russia;  and,  as  I  sat  there  by  the 
fire,  I  was  sometimes  all  awake  with  anger 
and  mortification  at  what  I  was  reading, 
and  sometimes  again  I  would  be  three 
parts  asleep  as  I  dozed  over  the  barren 
items  of  home  intelligence.  "  Lately  ar- 
rived " — this  is  what  I  suddenly  stumbled 
on — "at  Dumbreck's  Hotel,  the  Viscount 
of  Saint-Yves." 

"Rowley,"  said  I. 

"If  you  please,  Mr.  Anne,  sir,"  an- 
swered the  obsequious,  lowering  his  pipe. 

"  Come  and  look  at  this,  my  boy,"  said 
I,  holding  out  the  paper. 

"  My  crikey!  "  said  he.  "  That's  'im, 
sure  enough! " 

"  Sure  enough,  Rowley,"  said  I.  "  He's 
on  the  trail.    He  has  fairly  caught  up  with 


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ST.   IVES. 


us.  He  and  his  Bow  Street  man  have 
come  together,  1  would  swear.  And  now 
here  is  the  whole  field,  quarry,  hounds,  and 
hunters,  all  together  in  this  city  of  Edin- 
burgh." 

"  And  wot  are  you  goin'  to  do  now,  sir  ? 
Tell  you  wot,  let  me  take  it  in  'and,  please! 
Gimme  a  minute,  and  I'll  disguise  myself, 
and  go  out  to  this  Dum — to  this  hotel, 
leastways,  sir — and  see  wot  he's  up  to. 
You  put  your  trust  in  me,  Mr.  Anne:  I'm 
fly,  don't  you  make  no  mistake  about  it. 
I'm  all  a-growing  and  a-blowing,  I  am." 

"  Not  one  foot  of  you,"  said  I.  "  You 
are  a  prisoner,  Rowley,  and  make  up  your 
mind  to  that.  So  am  I,  or  next  door  to 
it.  I  showed  it  you  for  a  caution;  if  you 
go  on  the  streets,  it  spells  death  to  me, 
Rowley." 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  says  Rowley. 

"Come  to  think  of  it,"  I  continued, 
"you  must  take  a  cold,  or  something. 
No  good  of  awakening  Mrs.  McRankine's 
suspicions." 

14  A  cold  ? "  he  cried,  recovering  imme- 
diately from  his  depression.  "  1  can  do 
it,  Mr.  Anne." 

And  he  proceeded  to  sneeze  and  cough 
and  blow  his  nose,  till  I  could  not  restrain 
myself  from  smiling. 

"  Oh,  I  tell  you,  I  know  a  lot  of  them 
dodges,"  he  observed  proudly. 

* 4  Well,  they  come  in  very  handy, ' '  said  I. 

"I'd  better  go  at  once  and  show  it  to 
the  old  gal,  'adn't  I  ?  "  he  asked. 

I  told  him,  by  all  means;  and  he  was 
gone  upon  the  instant,  gleeful  as  though 
to  a  game  of  football. 

I  took  up  the  paper,  and  read  carelessly 
on,  my  thoughts  engaged  with  my  imme- 
diate danger,  till  I  struck  on  the  next  para- 
graph: 

"  In  connection  with  the  recent  horrid 
murder  in  the  Castle,  we  are  desired  to 
make  public  the  following  intelligence. 
The  soldier,  Champdivers,  is  supposed  to 
be  in  the  neighborhood  of  this  city.  He 
is  about  the  middle  height  or  rather  under, 
of  a  pleasing  appearance  and  highly  gen- 
teel address.  When  last  heard  of  he  wore 
a  fashionable  suit  of  pearl  gray,  and  boots 
with  fawn-colored  tops.  He  is  accompa- 
nied by  a  servant  about  sixteen  years  of 
age,  speaks  English  without  any  accent, 
and  passed  under  the  alias  of  Ramor- 
nie.  A  reward  is  offered  for  his  appre- 
hension." 

In  a  moment  I  was  in  the  next  room, 
stripping  from  me  the  pearl-colored  suit! 

I  confess  I  was  now  a  good  deal  agi- 
tated.     It  is  difficult  to  watch  the  toils 


closing  slowly  and  surely  about  you  and 
to  retain  your  composure;  and  I  was  glad 
that  Rowley  was  not  present  to  spy  on  my 
confusion.  1  was  flushed,  my  breath  came 
thick;  I  cannot  remember  a  time  when  I 
was  more  put  out. 

And  yet  I  must  wait  and  do  nothing, 
and  partake  of  my  meals,  and  entertain 
the  ever-garrulous  Rowley,  as  though  I 
were  entirely  my  own  man.  And  if  I  did 
not  require  to  entertain  Mrs.  McRankine 
also, that  was  but  another  drop  of  bitterness 
in  my  cup!  For  what  ailed  my  landlady, 
that  she  should  hold  herself  so  severely 
aloof,  that  she  should  refuse  conversation, 
that  her  eyes  should  be  reddened,  that  I 
should  so  continually  hear  the  voice  of  her 
private  supplications  sounding  through  the 
house  ?  I  was  much  deceived,  or  she  had 
read  the  insidious  paragraph  and  recog- 
nized the  comminated  pearl-gray  suit.  I 
remembered  now  a  certain  air  with  which 
she  had  laid  the  paper  on  my  table,  and  a 
certain  sniff,  between  sympathy  and  defi- 
ance, with  which  she  had  announced  it: 
"  There's  your  '  Mercury  '  for  ye!  " 

In  this  direction,  at  least,  I  saw  no  press- 
ing danger;  her  tragic  countenance  beto- 
kened agitation;  it  was  plain  she  was 
wrestling  with  her  conscience,  and  the 
battle  still  hung  dubious.  The  question 
of  what  to  do  troubled  me  extremely.  I 
could  not  venture  to  touch  such  an  intri- 
cate and  mysterious  piece  of  machinery  as 
my  landlady's  spiritual  nature;  it  might 
go  off  at  a  word,  and  in  any  direction,  like 
a  badly-made  firework.  And  while  I 
praised  myself  extremely  for  my  wisdom 
in  the  past,  that  I  had  made  so  much  a 
friend  of  her,  I  was  all  abroad  as  to  my 
conduct  in  the  present.  There  seemed  an 
equal  danger  in  pressing  and  in  neglecting 
the  accustomed  marks  of  familiarity.  The 
one  extreme  looked  like  impudence,  and 
might  annoy;  the  other  was  a  practical 
confession  of  guilt.  Altogether  it  was  a 
good  hour  for  me  when  the  dusk  began  to 
fall  in  earnest  on  the  streets  of  Edinburgh 
and  the  voice  of  an  early  watchman  bade 
me  set  forth. 

I  reached  the  neighborhood  of  the  cot- 
tage before  seven ;  and  as  I  breasted  the 
steep  ascent  which  leads  to  the  garden 
wall,  I  was  struck  with  surprise  to  hear  a 
dog.  Dogs  I  had  heard  before,  but  only 
from  the  hamlet  on  the  hillside  above. 
Now,  this  dog  was  in  the  garden  itself, 
where  it  roared  aloud  in  paroxysms  of 
fury,  and  I  could  hear  it  leaping  and 
straining  on  the  chain.  I  waited  some 
while,  until  the  brute's  fit  of  passion  had 


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ROBERT  LOUTS  STEVENSON. 


39 


roared  itself  out.  Then,  with  the  utmost 
precaution,  I  drew  near  again,  and  finally 
approached  the  garden  wall.  So  soon  as 
I  had  clapped  my  head  above  the  level, 
however,  the  barking  broke  forth  again 
with  redoubled  energy.  Almost  at  the 
same  time,  the  door  of  the  cottage  opened, 
and  Ronald  and  the  major  appeared  upon 
the  threshold  with  a  lantern.  As  they  so 
stood,  they  were  almost  immediately  below 
me,  strongly  illuminated,  and  within  easy 
earshot.  The  major  pacified  the  dog,  who 
took  instead  to  low,  uneasy  growling  inter- 
mingled with  occasional  yelps. 

44  Good  thing  I  brought  Towzer!  "  said 
Chevenix. 

"Damn  him,  I  wonder  where  he  is!" 
said  Ronald;  and  he  moved  the  lantern 
up  and  down,  and  turned  the  night  into  a 
shifting  puzzle-work  of  gleam  and  shadow. 

44 1  think  I'll  make  a  sally." 

44  I  don't  think  you  will,"  replied  Che- 
venix. **  When  I  agreed  to  come  out  here 
and  do  sentry-go,  it  was  on  one  condition, 
Master  Ronald:  don't  you  forget  that! 
Military  discipline,  my  boy!  Our  beat  is 
this  path  close  about  the  house.  Down, 
Towzer!  good  boy,  good  boy — gently, 
then!"  he  went  on,  caressing  his  con- 
founded monster. 

44  To  think!  The  beggar  may  be  hear- 
ing us  this  minute!  "  cried  Ronald. 

44  Nothing  more  probable,"  said  the  ma- 
jor. **  You  there,  St.  Ives?"  he  added, 
in  a  distinct  but  guarded  voice.  *'  I  only 
want  to  tell  you,  you  had  better  go  home. 
Mr.  Gilchrist  and  I  take  watch  and 
watch." 

The  game  was  up.  4I  Beaucoup  de  plat- 
sir!*9  I  replied,  in  the  same  tones.  **// 
fait  un  peu  froid  pour  veiller  ;  gardez-vous 
des  engelures  / '  * 

I  suppose  it  was  done  in  a  moment  of 
ungovernable  rage;  but  in  spite  of  the  ex- 
cellent advice  he  had  given  to  Ronald  the 
moment  before,  Chevenix  slipped  the 
chain,  and  the  dog  sprang,  straight  as  an 
arrow,  up  the  bank.  I  stepped  back, 
picked  up  a  stone  of  about  twelve  pounds' 
weight,  and  stood  ready.  With  a  bound 
the  beast  landed  on  the  cope-stone  of  the 
wall;  and,  almost  in  the  same  instant,  my 
missile  caught  him  fair  in  the  face.  He 
gave  a  stifled  cry,  went  tumbling  back 
where  he  had  come  from,  and  I  could  hear 
the  twelve-pounder  accompany  him  in  his 
fall.  Chevenix,  at  the  same  moment, 
broke  out  in  a  roaring  voice:  4<  The  hell- 
hound! If  he's  killed  my  dog!"  and  I 
judged,  upon  all  grounds,  it  was  as  well 
to  be  off. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

EVENTS   OF    WEDNESDAY:     THE    UNIVERSITY 
OF   CRAMOND. 

I  awoke  to  much  diffidence,  even  to  a 
feeling  that  might  be  called  the  begin- 
nings of  panic,  and  lay  for  hours  in  my  bed 
considering  the  situation.  Seek  where  I 
pleased,  there  was  nothing  to  encourage 
me,  and  plenty  to  appal.  They  kept  a 
close  watch  about  the  cottage;  they  had 
a  beast  of  a  watch-dog — at  least,  unless  I 
had  settled  it;  and  if  I  had,  I  knew  its 
bereaved  master  would  only  watch  the 
more  indefatigably  for  the  loss.  In  the 
pardonable  ostentation  of  love  I  had  given 
all  the  money  I  could  spare  to  Flora;  I 
had  thought  it  glorious  that  the  hunted 
exile  should  come  down,  like  Jupiter,  in  a 
shower  of  gold,  and  pour  thousands  in 
the  lap  of  the  beloved.  Then  I  had  in  an 
hour  of  arrant  folly  buried  what  remained 
to  me  in  a  bank  in  George  Street.  And 
now  I  must  get  back  the  one  or  the  other; 
and  which  ?  and  how  ? 

As  I  tossed  in  my  bed,  I  could  see  three 
possible  courses,  all  extremely  perilous. 
First,  Rowley  might  have  been  mistaken; 
the  bank  might  not  be  watched;  it  might 
still  be  possible  for  him  to  draw  the  money 
on  the  deposit  receipt.  Second,  I  might 
apply  again  to  Robbie.  Or,  third,  I  might 
dare  everything,  go  to  the  Assembly  Ball, 
and  speak  with  Flora  under  the  eyes  of 
all  Edinburgh.  This  last  alternative,  in- 
volving as  it  did  the  most  horrid  risks, 
and  the  delay  of  forty-eight  hours,  I  did 
but  glance  at  with  an  averted  head,  and 
turned  again  to  the  consideration  of  the 
others.  It  was  the  likeliest  thing  in  the 
world  that  Robbie  had  been  warned  to 
have  no  more  to  do  with  me.  The  whole 
policy  of  the  Gilchrists  was  in  the  hands 
of  Chevenix;  and  I  thought  this  was  a 
precaution  so  elementary  that  he  was  cer- 
tain to  have  taken  it.  If  he  had  not,  of 
course  I  was  all  right:  Robbie  would 
manage  to  communicate  with  Flora;  and 
by  four  o'clock  I  might  be  on  the  south 
road  and,  I  was  going  to  say,  a  free  man. 
Lastly,  I  must  assure  myself  with  my 
own  eyes  whether  the  bank  in  George 
Street  were  beleagured. 

I  called  to  Rowley  and  questioned  him 
tightly  as  to  the  appearance  of  the  Bow 
Street  officer. 

44  What  s*ort  of  a  looking  man  is  he, 
Rowley  ?"  I  asked,  as  I  began  to  dress. 

44  Wot  sort  of  a  looking  man  he  is?" 


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4° 


ST.   IVES. 


repeated  Rowley.  "Well,  I  don't  very 
well  know  wot  you  would  say,  Mr.  Anne. 
He  ain't  a  beauty,  any'ow." 

44  Is  he  tall?" 

44  Tall  ?  Well,  no,  I  shouldn't  say  tall, 
Mr.  Anne." 

44  Well,  then,  is  he  short?" 

44  Short?  No,  I  don't  think  I  would 
say  he  was  what  you  would  call  short. 
No,  not  piticular  short,  sir." 

44  Then,  I  suppose  he  must  be  about  the 
middle  height  ? " 

44  Well,  you  might  say  it,  sir;  but  not 
remarkable  so." 

I  smothered  an  oath. 

44  Is  he  clean-shaved?"  I  tried  him 
again. 

44  Clean-shaved  ?  "  he  repeated,  with  the 
same  air  of  anxious  candor. 

44  Good  heaven,  man,  don't  repeat  my 
words  like  a  parrot!  "  I  cried.  44  Tell  me 
what  the  man  was  like:  it  is  of  the  first 
importance  that  I  should  be  able  to  recog- 
nize him." 

44  I'm  trying  to,  Mr.  -Anne.  But  dean 
shaved?  I  don't  seem  to  rightly  get  hold 
of  that  p'int.  Sometimes  it  might  appear 
to  me  like  as  if  he  was;  and  sometimes 
like  as  if  he  wasn't.  No,  it  wouldn't  sur- 
prise me  now  if  you  was  to  tell  me  he  'ad 
a  bit  o'  whisker." 

44  Was  the  man  red-faced?"  I  roared, 
dwelling  on  each  syllable. 

44 1  don't  think  you  need  go  for  to  get 
cross  about  it,  Mr.  Anne!"  said  he. 
44  I'm  tellin'  you  every  blessed  thing  I  see! 
Red-faced  ?  Well,  no,  not  as  you  would 
remark  upon." 

A  dreadful  calm  fell  upon  me. 

44  Was  he  anywise  pale  ?  "  I  asked. 

44  Well,  it  don't  seem  to  me  as  though  he 
were.  But  I  tell  you  truly,  I  didn't  take 
much  heed  to  that." 

44  Did  he  look  like  a  drinking  man  ? " 

44  Well,  no.  If  you  please,  sir,  he 
looked  more  like  an  eating  one." 

44  Oh,  he  was  stout,  was  he  ?  " 

44  No,  sir.  I  couldn't  go  so  far  as  that. 
No,  he  wasn't  not  to  say  stout.  If  any- 
thing, lean  rather." 

I  need  not  go  on  with  the  infuriating  in- 
terview. It  ended  as  it  began,  except 
that  Rowley  was  in  tears  and  that  I  had 
acquired  one  fact.  The  man  was  drawn 
for  me  as  being  of  any  height  you  like  to 
mention,  and  of  any  degree  of  corpulence 
or  leanness;  clean  shaved  or  not,  as  the 
case  might  be;  the  color  of  his  hair  Row- 
ley 44  could  not  take  it  upon  himself  to  put 
a  name  on;  "  that  of  his  eyes  he  thought 
to  have  been  blue — nay,  it  was  the  one 


point  on  which  he  attained  to  a  kind  of 
tearful  certainty.  44  I'll  take  my  davy  on 
it,"  he  asseverated.  They  proved  to 
have  been  as  black  as  sloes,  very  little, 
and  very  near  together.  So  much  for  the 
evidence  of  the  artless!  And  the  fact,  or 
rather  the  facts,  acquired  ?  Well,  they 
had  to  do  not  with  the  person  but  with  his 
clothing.  The  man  wore  knee-breeches 
and  white  stockings;  his  coat  was  "  some 
kind  of  a  lightish  color — or  betwixt  that 
and  dark;"  and  he  wore  a  44  moleskin 
weskit."  As  if  this  were  not  enough,  he 
presently  hailed  me  from  my  breakfast  in  a 
prodigious  flutter,  and  showed  me  an  hon- 
est and  rather  venerable  citizen  passing  in 
the  square. 

44  That's  him,  sir,"  he  cried,  "the  very 
moral  of  him!  Well,  this  one  is  better 
dressed,  and  p'r'aps  a  trifle  taller;  and  in 
the  face  he  don't  favor  him  no  ways  at  all, 
sir.  No,  not  when  I  come  to  look  again, 
'e  don't  seem  to  favor  him  noways." 

44  Jackass!"  said  I,  and  I  think  the 
greatest  stickler  for  manners  will  admit 
the  epithet  to  have  been  justified. 

Meanwhile  the  appearance  of  my  land- 
lady added  a  great  load  of  anxiety  to 
what  I  had  already  suffered.  It  was  plain 
that  she  had  not  slept;  equally  plain  that 
she  had  wept  copiously.  She  sighed,  she 
groaned,  she  drew  in  her  breath,  she  shook 
her  head,  as  she  waited  on  table.  In 
short,  she  seemed  in  so  precarious  a  state, 
like  a  petard  three  times  charged  with  hys- 
teria, that  I  did  not  dare  to  address  her; 
and  stole  out  of  the  house  on  tiptoe,  and 
actually  ran  downstairs,  in  the  fear  that 
she  might  call  me  back.  It  was  plain  that 
this  degree  of  tension  could  not  last  long. 
It  was  my  first  care  to  go  to  George 
Street,  which  I  reached  (by  good  luck)  as 
a  boy  was  taking  down  the  bank  shutters. 
A  man  was  conversing  with  him;  he  had 
white  stockings  and  a  moleskin  waistcoat, 
and  was  as  ill-looking  a  rogue  as  you 
would  want  to  see  in  a  day's  journey.  This 
seemed  to  agree  fairly  well  with  Rowley's 
signalement :  he  had  declared  emphatically 
(if  you  remember),  and  had  stuck  to  it  be- 
sides, that  the  companion  of  the  great 
Lavender  was  no  beauty. 

Thence  I  made  my  way  to  Mr.  Robbie's, 
where  I  rang  the  bell.  A  servant  answered 
the  summons,  and  told  me  the  lawyer  was 
engaged,  as  I  had  half  expected. 

44  Wha  shall  I  say  was  callin'  ?  "  she  pur- 
sued; and  when  I  told  her  44  Mr.  Ducie," 
44 1  think  this'll  be  for  you,  then?"  she 
added,  and  handed  me  a  letter  from  the 
hall  table.     It  ran: 


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ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON. 


4i 


"  Dear  Mr.  Ducie, 

•*  My  single  advice  to  you  is  to  leave  quam  pri- 
mum  for  the  South. 

**  Yours, 

T.  Robbie." 

That  was  short  and  sweet.  It  emphat- 
ically extinguished  hope  in  one  direction. 
No  more  was  to  be  gotten  of  Robbie;  and 
I  wondered,  from  my  heart,  how  much  had 
been  told  him.  Not  too  much,  I  hoped, 
for  I  liked  the  lawyer  who  had  thus  de- 
serted me,  and  I  placed  a  certain  reliance 
in  the  discretion  of  Chevenix.  He  would 
not  be  merciful;  on  the  other  hand,  I  did 
not  think  he  would  be  cruel  without  cause. 

It  was  my  next  affair  to  go  back  along 
George  Street,  and  assure  myself  whether 
the  man  in  the  moleskin  vest  was  still  on 
guard.  There  was  no  sign  of  him  on  the 
pavement.  Spying  the  door  of  a  common 
stair  nearly  opposite  the  bank,  I  took  it  in 
my  head  that  this  would  be  a  good  point 
of  observation,  crossed  the  street,  entered 
with  a  businesslike  air,  and  fell  immedi- 
ately against  the  man  in  the  moleskin  vest. 
I  stopped  and  apologized  to  him;  here- 
plied  in  an  unmistakable  English  accent, 
thus  putting  the  matter  beyond  doubt. 
After  this  encounter  I  must,  of  course,  as- 
cend to  the  top  story,  ring  the  bell  of  a 
suite  of  apartments,  inquire  for  Mr.  Vav- 
asour, learn  (with  no  great  Surprise)  that 
he  did  not  live  there,  come  down  again, 
and,  again  politely  saluting  the  man  from 
Bow  Street,  make  my  escape  at  last  into 
the  street. 

I  was  now  driven  back  upon  the  Assem- 
bly Ball.  Robbie  had  failed  me.  The 
bank  was  watched;  it  would  never  do  to 
risk  Rowley  in  that  neighborhood.  All  I 
could  do  was  to  wait  until  the  morrow 
evening,  and  present  myself  at  the  Assem- 
bly, let  it  end  as  it  might.  But  I  must 
say  I  came  to  this  decision  with  a  good 
deal  of  genuine  fright;  and  here  I  came 
for  the  first  time  to  one  of  those  places 
where  my  courage  stuck.  I  do  not  mean 
that  my  courage  boggled  and  made  a  bit 
of  a  bother  over  it,  as  it  did  over  the  es- 
cape from  the  Castle;  I  mean,  stuck,  like 
a  stop  watch  or  a  dead  man.  Certainly  I 
would  go  to  the  ball;  certainly  I  must  see 
this  mo  nin  r  about  my  clothes.  That  was 
all  decided.  But  the  most  of  the  shops 
were  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley,  in 
the  Old  Town ;  and  it  was  now  my  strange 
discovery  that  I  was  physically  unable  to 
cross  the  North  Bridge!  It  was  as  though 
a  precipice  had  stood  between  us,  or  the 
deep  sea  had  intervened.  Nearer  to  the 
Castle  my  legs  refused  to  bear  me. 


I  told  myself  this  was  mere  super- 
stition; I  made  wagers  with  myself — and 
gained  them;  I  went  down  on  the  esplan- 
ade of  Princes  Street,  walked  and  stood 
there,  alone  and  conspicuous,  looking 
across  the  garden  at  the  old  gray  bastions 
of  the  fortress,  where  all  these  troubles 
had  begun.  I  cocked  my  hat,  set  my  hand 
on  my  hip,  and  swaggered  on  the  pave- 
ment, confronting  detection.  And  I 
found  I  could  do  all  this  with  a  sense  of 
exhilaration  that  was  not  unpleasing  and 
with  a  certain  cranerie  of  manner  that 
raised  me  in  my  own  esteem.  And  yet 
there  was  one  thing  I  could  not  bring  my 
mind  to  face  up  to,  or  my  limbs  to  execute; 
and  that  was  to  cross  the  valley  into  the 
Old  Town.  It  seemed  to  me  I  must  be 
arrested  immediately  if  I  had  done  so;  I 
must  go  straight  into  the  twilight  of  a 
prison  cell,  and  pass  straight  thence  to  the 
gross  and  final  embraces  of  the  nightcap 
and  the  halter.  And  yet  it  was  from  no 
reasoned  fear  of  the  consequences  that  I 
could  not  go.  I  was  unable.  My  horse 
baulked,  and  there  was  an  end! 

My  nerve  was  gone:  here  was  a  discov- 
ery for  a  man  in  such  imminent  peril,  set 
down  to  so  desperate  a  game,  which  I 
could  only  hope  to  win  by  continual  luck 
and  unflagging  effrontery!  The  strain 
had  been  too  long  continued,  and  my 
nerve  was  gone.  I  fell  into  what  they  call 
panic  fear,  as  I  have  seen  soldiers  do  on 
the  alarm  of  a  night  attack,  and  turned 
out  of  Princes  Street  at  random  as  though 
the  devil  were  at  my  heels.  In  St.  An- 
drew's Square,  I  remember  vaguely  hear- 
ing some  one  call  out.  I  paid  no  heed, 
but  pressed  on  blindly.  A  moment  after, 
a  hand  fell  heavily  on  my  shoulder,  and  I 
thought  I  had  fainted.  Certainly  the 
world  went  black  about  me  for  some  sec- 
onds; and  when  that  spasm  passed  I  found 
myself  standing  face  to  face  with  the 
"cheerful  extravagant,"  in  what  sort  of 
disarray  I  really  dare  not  imagine,  dead 
white  at  least,  shaking  like  an  aspen,  and 
mowing  at  the  man  with  speechless  lips. 
And  this  was  the  soldier  of  Napoleon,  and 
the  gentleman  who  intended  going  next 
night  to  an  Assembly  Ball!  I  am  the 
more  particular  in  telling  of  my  break- 
down, because  it  was  my  only  experience 
of  the  sort;  and  it  is  a  good  tale  for  offi- 
cers I  will  allow  no  man  to  call  me  cow- 
ard; I  have  made  my  proofs;  few  men 
more.  And  yet  I  (come  of  the  best  blood 
in  France  and  inured  to  danger  from  a 
child)  did,  for  some  ten  or  twenty  minutes, 
make  this  hideous  exhibition  of  myself  on 


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S7\   IVES. 


the  streets  of  the  New  Town  of  Edin- 
burgh. 

With  my  first  available  breath  I  begged 
his  pardon.  I  was  of  an  extremely  ner- 
vous disposition,  recently  increased  by 
late  hours;  I  could  not  bear  the  slightest 
start. 

He  seemed  much  concerned.  "  You 
must  be  in  a  devil  of  a  state!"  said  he; 
'•  though  of  course  it  was  my  fault — dam- 
nably silly,  vulgar  sort  of  thing  to  do! 
A  thousand  apologies!  But  you  really 
must  be  run  down;  you  should  consult  a 
medico.  My  dear  sir,  a  hair  of  the  dog 
that  bit  you  is  clearly  indicated.  A  touch 
of  Blue  Ruin,  now  ?  Or,  come:  it's  early, 
but  is  man  the  slave  of  hours  ?  what  do 
you  say  to  a  chop  and  a  bottle  in  Dum- 
breck's  Hotel  ?" 

I  refused  all  false  comfort;  but  when  he 
went  on  to  remind  me  that  this  was  the 
day  when  the  University  of  Cramond 
met;  and  to  propose  a  five-mile  walk  into 
the  country  and  a  dinner  in  the  company 
of  young  asses  like  himself,  I  began  to 
think  otherwise.  I  had  to  wait  until  to- 
morrow evening,  at  any  rate;  this  might 
serve  as  well  as  anything  else  to  bridge 
the  dreary  hours.  The  country  was  the 
very  place  for  me;  and  walking  is  an  ex- 
cellent sedative  for  the  nerves.  Remem- 
bering poor  Rowley,  feigning  a  cold  in 
our  lodgings  and  immediately  under  the 
guns  of  the  formidable  and  now  doubtful 
Bethiah,  I  asked  if  I  might  bring  my  ser- 
vant. *'  Poor  devil!  it  is  dull  for  him,"  I 
explained. 

"  The  merciful  man  is  merciful  to  his 
ass,"  observed  my  sententious  friend. 
"  Bring  him  by  all  means! 

*  The  harp,  his  sole  remaining  joy, 
Was  carried  by  an  orphan  boy  ; ' 

and  I  have  no  doubt  the  orphan  boy  can 
get  some  cold  victuals  in  the  kitchen, 
while  the  Senatus  dines." 

Accordingly,  being  now  quite  recovered 
from  my  unmanly  condition,  except  that 
nothing  could  yet  induce  me  to  cross  the 
North  Bridge,  I  arranged  for  my  ball  dress 
at  a  shop  in  Leith  Street,  where  I  was  not 
served  ill,  cut  out  Rowley  from  his  seclu- 
sion, and  was  ready  along  with  him  at  the 
trysting-place,  the  corner  of  Duke  Street 
and  York  Place,  by  a  little  after  two. 
The  University  was  represented  in  force: 
eleven  persons,  including  ourselves,  By- 
field  the  aeronaut,  and  the  tall  lad,  Forbes, 
whom  I  had  met  on  the  Sunday  morning, 
bedewed  with  tallow,  at  the  "  Hunter's 
Tryst."     I  was  introduced;  and  we  set  off 


by  may  of  Newhaven  and  the  sea  beach; 
at  first  through  pleasant  country  roads, 
and  afterwards  along  a  succession  of  bays 
of  a  fairylike  prettiness,  to  our  destination 
— Cramond  on  the  Almond — a  little  ham- 
let on  a  little  river,  embowered  in  woods, 
and  looking  forth  over  a  great  flat  of 
quicksand  to  where  a  little  islet  stood 
planted  in  the  sea.  It  was  miniature 
scenery,  but  charming  of  its  kind.  The 
air  of  this  good  February  afternoon  was 
bracing,  but  not  cold.  All  the  way  my 
companions  were  skylarking,  jesting,  and 
making  puns,  and  I  felt  as  if  a  load  had 
been  taken  off  my  lungs  and  spirits,  and 
skylarked  with  the  best  of  them. 

Byfield  I  observed,  because  I  had  heard 
of  him  before  and  seen  hjs  advertise- 
ments, not  at  all  because  I  was  disposed 
to  feel  interest  in  the  man.  He  was  dark 
and  bilious  and  very  silent;  frigid  in  his 
manners,  but  burning  internally  with  a 
great  fire  of  excitement;  and  he  was  so 
good  as  to  bestow  a  good  ,deal  of  his 
company  and  conversation  (such  as  it  was) 
upon  myself,  who  was  not  in  the  least 
grateful.  If  I  had  known  how  I  was  to 
be  connected  with  him  in  the  immediate 
future,  I  might  have  taken  more  pains. 

In  the  hamlet  of  Cramond  there  is  a 
hostelry  of  no  very  promising  appearance, 
and  here  a  room  had  been  prepared  for  us, 
and  we  sat  down  to  table. 

"  Here  you  will  find  no  guttling  or  gor- 
mandising, no  turtle  or  nightingales' 
tongues,"  said  the  extravagant,  whose 
name,  by  the  way,  was  Dalmahoy.  "  The 
device,  sir,  of  the  University  of  Cramond 
is  Plain  Living  and  High  Drinking." 

Grace  was  said  by  the  Professor  of  Di- 
vinity, in  a  macaronic  Latin,  which  I 
could  by  no  means  follow,  only  I  could 
hear  it  rhymed,  and  I  guessed  it  to  be 
more  witty  than  reverent.  After  which 
the  Senatus  Academicus  sat  down  to  rough 
plenty  in  the  shape  of  rizzar'd  haddocks 
and  mustard,  a  sheep's  head,  a  haggis,  and 
other  delicacies  of  Scotland.  The  dinner 
was  washed  down  with  brown  stout  in 
bottle,  and  as  soon  as  the  cloth  was  re- 
moved, glasses,  boiling  water,  sugar,  and 
whisky  were  set  out  for  the  manufacture 
of  toddy.  I  played  a  good  knife  and 
fork,  did  not  shun  the  bowl,  and  took 
part,  so  far  as  I  was  able,  in  the  continual 
fire  of  pleasantry  with  which  the  meal  was 
seasoned.  Greatly  daring,  I  ventured, 
before  all  these  Scotsmen,  to  tell  Sim's 
tale  of  Tweedie's  dog  ;  and  I  was  held 
to  have  done  such  extraordinary  justice  to 
the  dialect,  "for  a  Southron,"  that  I  was 


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ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON. 


43 


immediately  voted  into  the  Chair  of  Scots, 
and  became,  from  that  moment,  a  full 
member  of  the  University  of  Cramond. 
A  little  after,  I  found  myself  entertaining 
them  with  a  song;  and  a  little  after — per- 
haps a  little  in  consequence — it  occurred 
to  me  that  I  had  had  enough,  and  would 
be  very  well  inspired  to  take  French  leave. 
It  was  not  difficult  to  manage,  for  it  was 
nobody's  business  to  observe  my  move- 
ments, and  conviviality  had  banished  sus- 
picion. 

I  got  easily  forth  of  the  chamber,  which 
reverberated  with  the  voices  of  these 
merry  and  learned  gentlemen,  and  breathed 
a  long  breath.  I  had  passed  an  agreeable 
afternoon  and  evening,  and  I  had  appar- 
ently escaped  scot  free.  Alas!  when  I 
looked  into  the  kitchen,  there  was  my 
monkey,  drunk  as  a  lord,  toppling  on  the 
edge  of  the  dresser,  and  performing  on 
the  flageolet  to  an  audience  of  the  house 
lasses  and  some  neighboring  ploughmen. 

I  routed  him  promptly  from  his  perch, 
stuck  his  hat  on,  put  his  instrument  in  his 
pocket,  and  set  off  with  him  for  Edin- 
burgh. His  limbs  were  of  paper,  his  mind 
quite  in  abeyance;  I  must  uphold  and 
guide  him,  prevent  his  frantic  dives,  and 
set  him  continually  on  his  legs  again.  At 
first  he  sang  wildly,  with  occasional  out- 
bursts of  causeless  laughter.  Gradually 
an  inarticulate  melancholy  succeeded;  he 
wept  gently  at  times;  would  stop  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  say  firmly,  "  No,  no, 
no,"  and  then  fall  on  his  back;  or  else 
address  me  solemnly  as  "M'lord,"  and 
fall  on  his  face  by  way  of  variety.  I  am 
afraid  I  was  not  always  so  gentle  with  the 
little  pig  as  I- might  have  been,  but  really 
the  position  was  unbearable.  We  made 
no  headway  at  all,  and  I  suppose  we  were 
scarce  gotten  a  mile  away  from  Cramond, 
when  the  whole  Senatus  Academicus  was 
heard  hailing  and  doubling  the  pace  to 
overtake  us. 

Some  of  them  were  fairly  presentable; 
and  they  were  all  Christian  martyrs  com- 
pared to  Rowley;  but  they  were  in  a  frol-. 
icsomeand  rollicking  humor  that  promised 
danger  as  we  approached  the  town.  They 
sang  songs,  they  ran  races,  they  fenced 
with  their  walking-sticks  and  umbrellas; 
and,  in  spite  of  this  violent  exercise,  the 
fun  grew  only  the  more  extravagant  with 
the  miles  they  traversed.  Their  drunk- 
enness was  deep-seated  and  permanent, 
like  fire  in  a  peat;  or  rather — to  be  quite 
just  to  them — it  was  not  so  much  to  be 
called  drunkenness  at  all,  as  the  effect  of 
youth  and  high  spirits — a  fine  night,  and 


the  night  young,  a  good  road  under  foot, 
and  the  world  before  you! 

I  had  left  them  once  somewhat  uncere- 
moniously; I  could  not  attempt  it  a  sec- 
ond time;  and,  burthened  as  I  was  with 
Mr.  Rowley,  I  was  really  glad  of  assist- 
ance. But  I  saw  the  lamps  of  Edinburgh 
draw  near  on  their  hill-top  with  a  good 
deal  of  uneasiness,  which  increased,  after 
we  had  entered  the  lighted  streets,  to  posi- 
tive alarm.  All  the  passers-by  were  ad- 
dressed, some  of  them  by  name.  A  wor- 
thy man  was  stopped  by  Forbes.  "  Sir," 
said  he,  "  in  the  name  of  the  Senatus  of 
the  University  of  Cramond,  I  confer  upon 
you  the  degree  of  LL.D.,"  and  with  the 
words  he  bonneted  him.  Conceive  the 
predicament  of  St.  Ives,  committed  to  the 
society  of  these  outrageous  youths,  in  a 
town  where  the  police  and  his  cousin  were 
both  looking  for  him!  So  far,  we  had 
pursued  our  way  unmolested,  although 
raising  a  clamor  fit  to  wake  the  dead;  but 
at  last,  in  Abercromby  Place,  I  believe — 
at  least  it  was  a  crescent  of  highly  respec- 
table houses  fronting  on  a  garden — Byfield 
and  I,  having  fallen  somewhat  in  the  rear 
with  Rowley,  came  to  a  simultaneous  halt. 
Our  ruffians  were  beginning  to  wrench  off 
bells  and  doorplates! 

"  Oh,  I  say !  "  says  Byfield,  "  this  is  too 
much  of  a  good  thing!  Confound  it,  I'm 
a  respectable  man — a  public  character,  by 
George!  I  can't  afford  to  get  taken  up 
by  the  police." 

"  My  own  case  exactly,"  said  I. 

"  Here,  let's  bilk  them,"  said  he. 

And  we  turned  back  and  took  our  way 
down  hill  again. 

It  was  none  too  soon:  voices  and  alarm- 
bells  sounded;  watchmen  here  and  there 
began  to  spring  their  rattles;  it  was  plain 
the  University  of  Cramond  would  soon  be 
at  blows  with  the  police  of  Edinburgh! 
Byfield  and  I,  running  the  semi-inanimate 
Rowley  before  us,  made  good  despatch, 
and  did  not  stop  till  we  were  several 
streets  away,  and  the  hubbub  was  already 
softened  by  distance. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  he,  "  we  are  well  out 
of  that!  Did  ever  any  one  see  such  a 
pack  of  young  barbarians?" 

"We  are  properly  punished,  Mr.  By- 
field;  we  had  no  business  there,"  I  re- 
plied. 

"  No,  indeed,  sir,  you  may  well  say 
that!  Outrageous!  And  my  ascension 
announced  for  Saturday,  you  know!" 
cried  the  aeronaut.  "A  pretty  scandal! 
Byfield  the  aeronaut  at  the  police-court! 
Tut-tut!      Will  you   be  able  to  get  your 


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ST.   J  VMS. 


rascal  home,  sir?  Allow  me  to  offer  you 
my  card  I  am  staying  at  Walker  and 
Poole's  Hotel,  sir,  where  I  should  be 
pleased  to  see  you." 

"The  pleasure  would  be  mutual,  sir," 
said  I;  but  I  must  say  my  heart  was  not 
in  my  words,  and  as  I  watched  Mr.  By- 
field  departing,  I  desired  nothing  less  than 
to  pursue  the  acquaintance. 

One  more  ordeal  remained  for  me  to 
pass.  I  carried  my  senseless  load  up- 
stairs to  our  lodging,  and  was  admitted  by 
the  landlady  in  a  tall  white  night-cap  and 
with  an  expression  singularly  grim.  She 
lighted  us  into  the  sitting-room;  where, 
when  I  had  seated  Rowley  in  a  chair,  she 
dropped  me  a  cast-iron  courtesy.  I  smelt 
gunpowder  on  the  woman.  Her  voice 
tottered  with  emotion. 

"I  give  ye  nottice,  Mr.  Ducie,"  said 
she..    "  Dacent  folks'  houses  ..." 

And  at  that,  apparently,  temper  cut  off 
her  utterance,  and  she  took  herself  off 
without  more  words. 

I  looked  about  me  at  the  room,  the 
goggling  Rowley,  the  extinguished  fire; 
my  mind  reviewed  the  laughable  inci- 
dents of  the  day  and  night;  and  I  laughed 
out  loud  to  myself — lonely  and  cheerless 
laughter! 

At  this  point  the  story  breaks  off,  hav- 
ing been  laid  aside  by  the  author  some 
weeks  before  his  death.  The  argument  of 
the  few  chapters  remaining  to  be  written 
was  known  to  his  stepdaughter  and  aman- 
uensis, Mrs.  Strong,  who  has  been  good 
enough  to  supply  materials  for  the  follow- 
ing summary: 

Anne  goes  to  the  Assembly  Ball,  and 
there  meets  Chevenix,  Ronald,  Flora,  and 
Flora's  aunt.  Anne  is  very  daring  and 
impudent,  Flora  very  anxious  and  agita- 
ted.    The  Bow  Street  runner   is   on    the 


stairs,  and  presently  the  Vicomte  de  St. 
Yves  is  announced.  Anne  contrives  to 
elude  them  and  to  make  an  appointment 
with  Flora  that  she  should  meet  him  with 
his  money  the  next  day  at  a  solitary  place 
near  Swanston.  They  keep  the  appoint- 
ment, and  have  a  long  interview,  Flora 
giving  him  his  money  packet.  They  are 
disturbed  by  a  gathering  crowd  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  learn  accidentally  that 
a  balloon  ascent  is  about  to  take  place 
close  at  hand.  Perceiving  Ronald  and 
Chevenix,  Anne  leaves  Flora  and  forces 
his  way  into  the  thickest  of  the  crowd, 
hoping  thus  to  evade  pursuit.  But  the 
Bow  Street  runner  and  the  rest  of  his  pur- 
suers follow  him  up  to  the  balloon  itself. 
The  ropes  are  about  to  be  cut  when  Anne, 
after  a  moment's  whispered  conversation 
with  the  aeronaut,  leaps  into  the  car  as  the 
balloon  rises.  The  course  of  the  balloon 
takes  it  over  the  British  channel,  where  it 
descends,  and  the  voyagers  are  picked  up 
by  an  American  privateer  and  carried  to 
the  United  States.  Thence  St.  Ives 
makes  his  way  to  France. 

Meanwhile  Rowley,  with  the  help  of 
Mr.  Robbie,  busies  himself  successfully 
at  Edinburgh  to  bring  about  an  investiga- 
tion into  the  circumstances  attending  Gog- 
uelat's  death.  Chevenix,  conceiving  that 
Anne  would  never  return,  and  wishing  to 
appear  in  a  magnanimous  light  before 
Flora,  comes  forward  as  the  principal 
witness,  and,  by  telling  what  he  knows  of 
the  duel,  clears  his  rival  of  the  criminal 
charge  hanging  over  him. 

Upon  the  restoration  of  the  monarchy, 
the  Vicomte  de  St.  Yves  being  discred- 
ited and  ruined,  Anne  comes  into  posses- 
sion of  his  ancestral  domains,  and  returns 
to  Edinburgh  in  due  form  and  state  to 
claim  and  win  Flora  as  his  bride. 

S.  C. 


THE    END. 


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45 


A    MODERN    MIRACLE. 


By  H.  G.  Prout. 


TN  the  second  volume  of  Kipling's 
*  "  Jungle  Book"  appears  a  story,  which 
is  not  a  jungle  story,  entitled  "  The  Mir- 
acle of  Purun  Bhagat."  The  main  facts 
told  are  that  a  great  landslip  one  mile  long 
and  2,000  feet  high  came  down  into  a  val- 
ley and  overwhelmed  a  village,  and  that 
the  villagers  were  warned  by  a  holy  man, 
Purun  Bhagat,  and  fled  across  the  valley 
and  up  the  other  slope  and  were  all  saved. 
The  only  life  lost  was  that  of  Purun  Bhagat 
himself. 

I  propose  to  telf  the  real  story,  very 
briefly,  for  much  of  this  did  happen,  and 
the  facts  are  to  be  found  in  official  docu- 
ments lately  made  public.  It  is  quite  pos- 
sible, however,  that  the  landslip  of  which 
Kipling  tells  and  that  of  which  I  shall  tell 
were  not  identical. 

There  was  what  might  indeed  seem  to  the 
ignorant  a  miracle,  but  it  was  only  an  exhi- 
bition of  applied  knowledge  and  intelli- 
gence and  of  official  zeal  and  devotion. 
An  appalling  landslip  did  occur  villages 
were  swept  away,  a  valley  was  devastated, 
and  the  only  lives  lost  were  those  of  a 
fakir  (religious  beggar)  and  his  family. 

On  the  northwestern  frontier  of  India, 
in  the  flanks  of  the  Himalayas,  is  a  small 
stream,  the  Birahi  Gunga,  a  tributary  of 
the  Ganges.  High  up  on  this  stream  is 
the  little  village  of  Gohna,  and  that  is 
where  the  miracle  took  place. 

In  September,  1893,  an  enormous  bulk 
of  rock  and  earth  slid  down  the  mountain 


side  into  the  river,  and  in  October  of  the 
same  year  was  another  great  landslide. 
The  mountain  from  which  this  material 
came  down  rises  4,000  feet  above  the  bed 
of  the  stream.  The  dam  which  the  mate- 
rial formed  across  the  valley  was  about 
900  feet  high  and  3,000  feet  long,  as  meas- 
ured across  the  gorge.  Of  course  the  for- 
mation of  this  dam  would  convert  the 
stream  above  it  into  a  lake,  and  it  was  cal- 
culated that  when  the  water  should  reach 
the  level  of  the  top  of  the  dam,  it  would 
cover  an  area  of  about  one  and  one-third 
square  miles  and  would  contain  about 
16,650  million  cubic  feet  of  water,  about 
as  much  water  as  could  be  carried  in  500,- 
000  of  the  bijggest  freight  trains. 

All  of  this  was  apparent  to  every  one; 
but  back  of  all  this  the  British  officers, 
civil  and  military,  who  were  in  charge  of 
the  affairs  of  that  region,  saw  certain  other 
truly  awful  facts.  Some  time  the  lake 
would  fill  and  the  water  would  begin  to 
rise  over  the  crest  of  the  dam.  But  there 
being  no  masonry  protection,  the  water 
would  begin  at  once  to  cut  away  the  crest 
and  the  face  of  the  dam,  and  the  breach 
started,  it  would  increase  by  swift  leaps, 
as  greater  and  greater  volumes  of  water 
were  let  loose,  till  the  whole  lake  would 
be  released,  to  sweep  in  one  vast  wave 
down  the  valley.  This  process  of  break- 
ing down  begun,  the  end  would  not  be 
a  matter  of  days,  but  of  hours.  Be- 
tween the  first  trickling  overflow  and  the 


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A  MODERN  MIRACLE. 


escape  of  the  mass  of  the  water,  probably 
less  than  a  day  would  elapse,  possibly 
only  a  very  few  hours.  In  fact,  seventeen 
hours  after  the  first  overflow  did  take  place 
the  great  flood  was  let  loose. 

That  all  this  would  happen  was  not 
speculation;  it  was  human  experience.  It 
was  exactly  what  happened  at  Johnstown, 
Pennsylvania,  in  1889,  when  several  towns 
were  wrecked  and  5,000  lives  were  lost; 
only  the  Gohna  dam  was  fourteen  times  as 
high  and  three  and  one-quarter  times  as 
long  as  the  Johnstown  dam,  and  the  water 
held  back  was  twenty-six  times  as  much. 
All  this  the  British  officers  knew  was  be- 
fore them.  What  could  they  do  to  save 
lives  and  property,  and  how  much  time  had 
they  to  do  it  ? 

From  surveys  they  knew  the  area  of 
the  watershed  from  which  the  water  would 
come  to  fill  the  lake,  and  from  records 
they  knew  the  ordinary  rainfall;  and  so  in 
the  autumn  of  1893  they  calculated  that 
the  overflow  would  begin  August  15,  1894. 
It  actually  began  August  25th.  No  doubt 
the  officers  intended  to  make  the  error 
on  the  safe  side,  and  hardly  expected  the 
overflow  to  take  place  as  early  as  August 
15th. 

Having  satisfied  themselves  when  the 
flood  would  take  place,  they  began  to  pre- 
pare for  it.  They  built  a  telegraph  line 
from  Gohna,  down  the  river,  150  miles,  and 
established  stations  at  all  important  points. 
They  put  up  pillars  of  masonry  on  the 
slopes  of  the  valley:  in  the  upper  part  200 
feet  above  ordinary  flood  level,  and  far- 
ther down  the  valley,  100  feet  above  floods. 
These  pillars  were  established  near  all 
villages  and  camping-grounds,  and  at  in- 
tervals of  half  a  mile  down  the  river. 
The  people  were  directed  to  retire  above 
the  line  of  pillars  when  they  should  re- 
ceive warning  of  the  flood.  The  valley 
is  not  thickly  peopled,  but  it  contains  sev- 
eral villages,  and  one  town  which  has  a 
population  of  2,000.  It  is,  however,  a  fa- 
mous resort  for  pilgrims,  and  is  studded 
with  shrines,  and  streams  of  devotees 
pass  back  and  forth. 

The  protection  of  the  people  was  pro- 
vided for  by  these  precautions,  but  it  re- 
mained to  save  such  property  as  might  be 
saved.  The  permanent  bridges  along  the 
valley  were  taken  down  and  stored  high 
up  the  slopes  and  replaced  by  temporary 
rope  bridges.  In  two  cases  the  local  au- 
thorities requested  that  the  bridges  should 
be  left,  and  these  two  were  completely 
destroyed. 

Below  Hardwar,  which  is  150  miles  be- 


low Gohna,  at  the  mouth  of  the  valley,  are 
situated  the  headworks  of  the  great  Gan- 
ges Canal.  A  flood  coming  down  the  val- 
ley might  destroy  these  and  greatly  injure 
the  works  farther  down.  This  in  itself 
would  be  a  terrible  calamity,  for  the  agri- 
culture of  vast  regions  depends  upon  this 
canal.  Therefore,  measures  were  taken  to 
protect  the  canal  works  by  dams  and  other 
constructions  more  or  less  substantial. 

When  they  had  done  all  they  could  the 
officers  waited  for  the  flood.  At  half  past 
six  on  the  morning  of  August  25th,  a  little 
stream  began  to  trickle  over  the  dam.  At 
two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  a  message 
was  sent  down  the  valley,  saying  that  the 
flood  would  come  during  the  night.  A 
thick  mist  overhung  the  lake  and  the 
dam.  At  half  past  eleven  at  night  a  loud 
crash  was  heard,  a  cloud  of  dust  rose 
through  the  mist  and  rain,  and  the  flood 
roared  down  the  valley. 

Just  below  the  dam  the  wave  rose  260 
feet  above  the  ordinary  flood  level.  If 
this  wave  had  swept  down  Broadway,  it 
would  have  risen  to  the  cornices  of  some 
of  the  recent  twenty-story  buildings. 
Thirteen  miles  below  the  dam  the  wave 
was  160  feet  high;  and  seventy-two  miles 
below,  at  Srinagar,  it  was  forty-two  feet 
above  ordinary  flood  level ;  and  at  Hard- 
war,  150  miles  down  the  stream,  at  the 
mouth  of  the  valley,  the  wave  was  still 
eleven  feet  high.  The  average  speed  of 
the  flood  going  down  the  valley,  in  the 
first  seventy  miles  of  its  course,  was  esti- 
mated at  about  eighteen  miles  an  hour; 
but  in  the  upper  twelve  miles  it  must  have 
moved  at  a  rate  of  over  twenty-seven 
miles  an  hour.  In  four  and  a  half  hours 
10,000  million  cubic  feet  of  water,  almost 
two-thirds  of  the  whole  contents  of  the 
lake,  were  discharged.  This  mass  weighed 
more  than  300  million  tons.  Nothing 
could  withstand  that  weight  moving  at 
such  a  speed.  Rocks  were  ground  to  dust. 
The  town  of  Srinagar  was  entirely  de- 
stroyed, with  the  rajah's  palace  and  the 
public  buildings;  and  a  thick  bed  of  stones, 
sand,  and  mud  was  deposited  where  the 
town  had  stood.  All  the  villages  of  the 
valley  were  swept  away;  but,  wonderful 
to  relate,  there  was  absolutely  no  loss  of 
life,  except  the  Gohna  fakir  and  his  fam- 
ily. This  old  fellow  scorned  the  warning 
of  the  Christians,  and  he  and  his  family 
were  twice  forcibly  moved  up  the  slope, 
but  each  time  they  returned,  to  be  finally 
overwhelmed  in  the  flood. 

So  efficient  were  the  preparations  for 
protecting  the  headworks  of  the  Ganges 


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47 


Canal  that  these  were  but  slightly  injured. 
The  whole  cost  of  the  protective  work 
and  the  value  of  bridges  and  public  prop- 
erty destroyed  amounted  to  2,500,000  ru- 
pees. The  official  value  of  the  rupee  in 
1894  was  thirty-two  cents,  and,  therefore, 
this  sum  was  equal  to  $800,000.  This 
does  not  include  the  destruction  of  pri- 
vate property,  of  which  no  estimate  has 
been  made. 

To  save  the  people  of  the  valley  and  to 
save  the  Ganges  Canal  required  more  than 
mere  knowledge.  It  required  moral  cour- 
age and  resolution.  The  officers  had  to 
reckon  with  the  ignorance  and  incredulity 
of  the  people,  as  shown  in  the  case  of  the 
old  fakir.     They  had  also  to  meet  opposi- 


tion in  high  places,  for  there  were  men  in 
the  government  who  did  not  believe  that 
the  dam  would  fail  even  when  the  lake  over- 
flowed, and  there  were  others  who  wanted 
plans  tried  which,  as  events  proved,  would 
have  been  useless. 

The  annals  of  the  British  conquest  and 
government  of  India  are  full  of  instances 
of  the  fitness  of  our  race  to  govern,  but 
this  little  tale  illustrates,  perhaps  as  well 
as  any  of  them,  those  qualities  of  faith  in 
acquired  knowledge,  zeal  in  the  perform- 
ance of  duty,  and  courage  and  efficiency 
in  action  which  have  made  it  possible  for 
the  English-speaking  people  to  govern 
one-third  of  the  habitable  globe  and  one- 
fourth  of  the  population  of  the  earth. 


AN    UNJUST    ACCUSATION.  . 


By  Robert  Barr, 
Author  of  "  In  the  Midst  of  Alarms,"  **  The  Mutable  Many,"  etc. 


THERE  are  houses  in  London  which 
seem  to  take  upon  themselves  some 
of  the  haracteristics  of  their  inmates. 
Down  the  steps  of  a  gloomy-looking  dwell- 
ing you  generally  see  a  gloomy-looking 
man  descend,  and  from  the  portal  of  a 
bright-red  brick  facade,  incrusted  with 
terra-cotta  ornaments,  there  emerges  a 
fashionably  dressed  young  fellow  twirling 
a  jaunty  cane.  The  house  in  which  a  ter- 
rible murder  has  been  committed,  usually 
looks  the  exact  place  for  such  a  crime,  and 
ancient  maiden  ladies  live  in  peaceful 
semi-detached  suburban  villas. 

In   like  manner  famous  club  buildings 


give  forth  to  the  observant  public  some 
slight  indication  of  the  quality  of  their 
collective  members.  The  Athenaeum  Club 
looks  for  all  the  world  like  a  respectable 
massive  book-Case,  made  last  century  and 
closed  up.  One  would  expect,  were  the 
walls  opened  out,  to  see  row  upon  row  of 
stately  useful  volumes,  like  encyclopedias, 
and  solid  works  of  reference,  strongly 
bound  in  sober  leather.  The  Reform  and 
the  Carleton,  standing  together,  resemble 
two  distinguished  portly  statesmen,  of  op- 
posing politics,  it  is  true,  but,  neverthe- 
less, great  personal  friends.  The  clubs 
where  good  dinners  are  to  be  had  seem  to 


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AN   UNJUST  ACCUSATION. 


bulge  out  in   front,  and  you  can  almost 
imagine    a    phantom  hand  patting  a  dis- 
tended waistcoat  with  supreme  satisfaction. 
The  university  clubs  remind  one 
of  the  architecture  of  Oxfor  ' 
Cambridge.    A  benignant  ant 
calm  pervades  the  clerical  < 
and  the  hall  porters  look 
like  vergers;  while  there 
are  wide-awake  and  up-to- 
date  clubs  on   Piccadilly, 
frequented     by     dashing 
young    sparks,    and    the 
windows   of    these   clubs 
almost  wink  at  you  as  you 
pass  by. 

Of  no  edifice  in  London 
can  this  theory  be  held 
more  true  than  of  the  s 
gloomy,  scowling  build- 
ing that  houses  the  Royal 
Ironside  Service  Club.  It 
frowns  upon  the  innocent 
passer-by  with  an  air  of 
irascible  superiority,  not 
unmixed  with  disdain.  If  ^ 
you  hail  a  hansom  and  say 
to  the  cabman :  "  Drive 
me  to  the  Royal  Ironside 
Service  Club,."  the  man 
will  likely  lean  over  towards  you  and  ask 
with  puzzled  expression: 

"To  where,  sir?" 

But  if,  instead,  you  cry  in  snarly,  snappy 
tones : 

"  The  Growlers!  "  he  will  instantly  whip 
along  towards  St.   James's  quarter,  and 


-Like  Admired  Sir  Stonage  Gradbum. 


draw  up  at  the  somber  entrance  of  the 
Ironsides,  expecting  with  equal  certainty 
to  be  well  paid  and  found  fault  with. 

The  membership  of  the  Growl- 
is  made  up  entirely  of  ve(er- 
from  the  army  and  navy,  all 
yhom  have  seen  active  service 
most  of  whom  have  records 
exceptional  bravery.  There 
many  armless  sleeves  in  the 
>,  and  it  has  been  stated  that 
>ng  the  five  hundred  members 
there  are  only  seven  hun- 
dred and  twenty-three 
legs,  although  this  can- 
not be  definitely  proved, 
for  some  cases  of  gout 
may  have  been  mistaken 
for  a  patent  leg.  This 
question  might  be  solved 
if  all  the  members  were 
like  Admiral  Sir  Stonage 
Gradburn,  who  wears  in 
plain  sight  an  oaken  leg 
strapped  to  his  left  knee, 
just  as  if  he  were  a  Ports- 
mouth sailor,  and  on  this 
he  stumps  sturdily  in  and 
out  of  the  club,  the  thump 
of  his  wooden  leg  carrying 
terror  to  every  official  of  the  place  within 
hearing  distance.  The  old  man  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  modern  artificial  con- 
trivances in  the  way  of  patent  legs,  and 
when  a  well-known  firm  in  London  offered 
him  one  for  nothing  if  he  would  but  wear  it, 
the  angry  admiral  was  only  prevented  from 
inflicting  personal  chastisement  upon  the 
head  of  the  firm  by  the  receipt  of  the 
most  abject  apology  from  that  very  much 
frightened  individual. 

Membership  in  the  Growlers  is  an  honor 
that  may  be  legitimately  aspired  to,  but  it 
is  very  seldom  attained,  for  the  blackballing 
in  the  Growlers  is  something  fearful.  The 
committee  seems  to  resent  applications  for 
membership  as  if  they  were  covert  insults. 
It  is  a  tradition  of  thex:lub  that,  shortly 
after  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  was  elected  without  opposi- 
tion, but  members  speak  apologetically  of 
this  unusual  unanimity,  holding  that  the 
committee  of  the  day  was  carried  away  by 
public  feeling  and  that  the  duke  should 
not  have  been  admitted  until  he  was  at 
least  ten  years  older. 

The  junior  member  of  the  club 

is  Colonel  Duxbury,  who,  being 

but  sixty-five  years  old,  neither 

expects  nor  receives  the  slightest 

* »•//••  consideration   for  anv   views   he 


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ROBERT  BARR. 


49 


may  express  within  the  walls  of  the  club 
building. 

It  is  not  precisely  known  how  this  col- 
lection of  warlike  antiques  came  to  select 
James  C.  Norton,  a  person  of  the  compara- 
tively infantile  age  of  forty,  to  be  manager 
of  the  club.  Some  say  that  his  age  was 
not  definitely  known  to  the  committee  at 
the  time  he  was  appointed.  Others  insist 
that,  although  the  club  dues  are  high,  the 
finances  of  the  institution  got  into  disorder, 
and  so  an  alert  business  man  had  to  be 
engaged  to  set  everything  straight.  Out- 
siders again  allege  that  the  club  had  got  so 
into  the  habit  of  grumbling,  that  at  last  it 
thought  it  had  a  real  grievance,  and  thus 
they  brought  in  a  new  man,  putting  him 
over  the  head  of  the  old  steward,  who, 
however,  was  not  dismissed  nor  reduced 
in  pay,  but  merely  placed  in  a  subordinate 
position.  Scoffers  belonging  to  other 
clubs,  men  who  were  doubtless  blackballed 
at  the  Growlers,  libelously  state  that  the 
trouble  was  due  to  the  club  whisky,  a 
special  Scotch  of  peculiar  excellence.  In 
all  other  clubs  in  London,  whisky,  being 
a  precious  fluid,  is  measured  out,  and  a 
man  gets  exactly  so  much  for  his  three- 
pence or  his  sixpence,  as  the  case  may  be. 
No  such  custom  obtains  at  the  Growlers. 
When  whisky  is  called  for,  in  the  smok- 
ing-room, for  instance,  the  ancient  servi- 
tor, Peters,  comes  along  with  the  decanter 
in  his  hand  and  pours  the  exhilarating 
fluid  into  a  glass  until  the  member  who 
has  ordered  it  says  "  Stop!  "  The  scoffers 
hold,  probably  actuated  by  jealousy  and 
vain  longing,  that  this  habit  of  unmeas- 
ured liquor  is  enough  to  bankrupt  ?nv  ^lnh 
in  London. 

Peters,  whose  white  head  has  be 
out  protest  under  many  fierce  cc 
ings  poured  out  upon  it  by  irascib 
bers,  is  said  to  be  the  most  expert 
London  so  far  as  the  decanting  < 
ky  is  concerned.      The  exactitudi 
knowledge  respecting  the  temperan 
requirements  of  each  member  is 
most  admirable.    When  Sir  Ston- 
age  Gradburn  projects  the  word 
••Stop"  like  a  bullet,   not  an- 
other drop  of  the  precious  liquid 
passes  the  lip  of  the  decanter. 
When   Colonel    Duxbury,    with 
the  modesty  of  a  youthful  mem- 
ber, says  "  Stop  "  in  quite  a  dif- 
ferent tone  of  voice,  Peters  allows 
about  an  ounce  more  of  whisky 
to  pour  into  the  glass,  and  then 
murmurs  with  deferential  humil-  —  -* 

it y  :  "Notice to  quit,  sirt" 


"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir." 

Whereupon  the  colonel  replies  with 
chastened  severity: 

"  I  will  overlook  it  this  time,  Peters, 
but  be  more  careful  in  future."  Where- 
upon the  respectful  Peters  departs,  with 
the  decanter  in  his  hand,  saying,  "  Thank 
you,  sir." 

Shortly  after  the  installation  of  the 
new  manager,  Admiral  Sir  Stonage  Grad- 
burn drove  up  to  the  Growlers'  Club  in  his 
brougham,  and  stumped  noisily  through 
the  hall,  looking  straight  ahead  of  him, 
with  a  deep  frown  on  his  face.  His  for- 
bidding appearance  caused  every  one  with- 
in sight  to  know  that  the  British  empire 
was  going  on  all  right,  for  if  the  admiral 
had  ever  entered  with  a  smile  on  his  face, 
such  an  unusual  event  would  have  con- 
vinced them  that  at  last  the  peace  of  Eu- 
rope had  been  broken. 

The  stump  of  the  admiral's  wooden  leg 
was  lost  in  the  depths  of  the  carpet  that 
covered  the  smoking-room  floor,  and  the 
old  man  seated  himself  with  some  caution 
in  one  of  the  deep,  comfortable,  leather- 
covered  chairs  that  stood  beside  a  small 
round  table,  Peters  waiting  upon  him  ob- 
sequiously to  take  his  hat  and  stick,  which 
the  admiral  never  left  in  the  cloak-room, 
as  an  ordinary  mortal  might  have  done. 
When  the  respectful  Peters  came  back,  Sir 
Stonage  ordered  whisky  and  the  "  Times," 
a  mixture  of  which  he  was  exceedingly 
fond.  Peters  hurried  away  with  all  the 
speed  that  the  burden  of  eighty-six  years 
upon  his  shoulders  would  allow,  and  return- 


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AN  UNJUST  ACCUSATION. 


ing,  gave  the  admiral  the  newspaper,  while 
he  placed  a  large  glass  upon  the  table  and 
proceeded  to  pour  the  whisky  into  it. 

"That  will  do!"  snapped  the  admiral 
when  a  sufficient  quantity  of  "Special" 
had  been  poured  out.  Then  an  amazing, 
unheard-of  thing  happened,  that  caused 
the  astonished  admiral  to  drop  the  paper 
on  his  knee  and  transfix  the  unfortunate 
Peters  with  a  look  that  would  have  made 
the  whole  navy  quail.  The  neck  of  the 
decanter  had  actually  jingled  against  the 
lip  of  the  glass,  causing  a  perceptible 
quantity  of  the  fluid  to  flow  after  the  per- 
emptory order  to  cease  pouring  had  been 
given. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Peters  ?  " 
cried  the  enraged  sailor,  getting  red  in  the 
face.  "  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  care- 
lessness ?  " 

"  I  am   very  sorry,  Sir  Stonage,   very 
sorry,  indeed,  sir,"  re- 
plied Peters,  cringing. 

"Sorry!  Sorry!" 
cried  the  admiral.  "Say- 
ing you  are  sorry  does 
not  mend  a  mistake,  I 
would  have  you  know, 
Peters." 

"Indeed,  Sir  Ston- 
age, *  *  faltered  Peters, 
with  a  gulp  in  his  throat, 
"  I  don't  know  how  it 
could  have  happened, 
unless — "  he  paused, 
and  the  admiral,  look- 
ing up  at  him,  saw  there 
were  tears  in  his  eyes. 
The  frown  on  the  brow 
of  Sir  Stonage  deepened 
at  the  sight,  and,  al- 
though he  spoke  with 
severity,  he  nevertheless 
moderated  his  tone. 

"Well,  unless  what, 
Peters?" 

"  Unless  it  is  because  I  have  notice,  sir." 

"  Notice  !  Notice  of  what — a  birth,  a 
marriage,  a  funeral  ?  " 

"  Notice  to  quit,  sir." 

"  To  quit  what,  Peters  ?  To  quit  drink- 
ing, to  quit  gambling,  or  what  ?  Why 
don't  you  speak  out  ?  You  always  were  a 
fool,  Peters." 

"Yes,  sir.  Thank  you,  sir,"  replied 
Peters,  with  humility.  "  I  am  to  leave  the 
service  of  the  club,  Sir  Stonage." 

"  Leave  the  club!"  cried  the  admiral 
with  amazement.  "  Now,  Peters,  that 
simply  proves  the  truth  of  what  I  have 
been  saying.     You  are  a  fool,  and  no  mis- 


take. You  may  get  higher  wages,  which 
I  doubt;  you  may  better  yourself,  as  the 
detestable  modern  phrase  goes,  but  where 
will  you  meet  such  kindly  treatment  as 
you  receive  in  this  club  ?  " 

Sir  Stonage  Gradburn  glared  at  the  ser- 
vitor so  fiercely  that  Peters  feared  for  a 
moment  the  admiral  had  forgotten  he  was 
not   on   the    quarterdeck    and    about    to 
order  the  culprit  before  him  to  receive  a 
certain  number  of  lashes  ;  but  the  eyes  of 
the  aged  waiter  refilled  as  the  last  words 
of  the  admiral   brought  to  his  mind   the 
long  procession  of  years  during  which  he 
had  been  stormed  at,  gruffly  ordered  about, 
and  blamed  for  everything  that  went  wrong 
in  the  universe.      Still,  all  this  had  left  no 
permanent  mark  on  Peters's  mind,  for  there 
had  never  been  a  sting  in  the  sometimes 
petulant  complaints  flung  at  him,  and  he 
recognized    them  merely    as  verbal   fire- 
works playing  innocently  about  his  head, 
relieving  for  a  moment  the  irritation  of 
some  old  gentleman  who  had  been  accus- 
"  his  life  to  curt  command  and  in- 
lience.     Peters  actually  believed 
that  the  members  had  in- 
variably   been    kind   to 
him,    and  when   he 
y  v  thought  of  how  munifi- 

\>  cently  they  had  remem- 
^^  '  bered  him  Christmas 
^  after  Christmas,  a  lump 

came  into  his  throat  that 
made  articulation   diffi- 
cult.    Although  the 
members  gave  no  audi- 
ble token  of  their  liking 
for  him,  nevertheless  the 
old  man  well  knew  they 
~  ^>       would  miss  him  greatly 
reatment.**    when  he  was  gone,  and 
Peters  of  tea  pictured  to 
le  heroic  ordeal  that  awaited  his 
te  successor   in   office.     So  the 
admiral's  remark  about  the  kindness  of  the 
club   to   him   touched   a  tender  chord  in 
the  heart  of  the  old  menial,  and  the  vibra- 
tion of  this  chord  produced  such  an  agita- 
tion within  him  that  it  was  some  moments 
before  he  could  recover  sufficient  control 
over  his   voice  to  speak.     An   impatient 
"Well,  sir?"   from  the  scowling  admiral 
brought  him  to  his  senses. 

"  The  new  manager  has  dismissed  me, 
Sir  Stonage,"  replied  Peters. 

44  Dismissed  you!"  cried  the  admiral. 
"  What  have  you  been  doing,  Peters  ?  Not 
infringing  any  of  the  rules  of  the  club,  I 
hope  ?  You  have  been  with  us,  man  and 
boy,  for  forty-two  years,  and  should  have 


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a  reasonable    knowledge  of    our   regula- 
tions by  this  time." 

Peters  had  become  a  servitor  of  the  club 
at  the  age  of  forty-four,  and  therefore 
every  member  looked  upon  him  as  having 
spent  his  infancy  within  the  walls  of  the 
Ironside  Service  Club. 

*'  Oh,  no,  Sir  Stonage,  I  have  broken 
none  of  the  rules.  I  leave  the  club  with- 
out a  stain  on  my  character,"  replied 
Peters,  mixing  in  his  reply  a  phrase  that 
lingered  in  his  mind  from  the  records  of 
the  courts.  "  Mr.  Norton  dismisses  me, 
sir,  because  I  am  too  old  for  further  ser- 
vice." 

M  What!  "  roared  the  admiral  in  a  voice 
of  thunder. 

Several  members  in  different  parts  of 
the  room  looked  up  with  a  shade  of  an- 
noyance on  their  countenances.  Most  of 
them     were 

deaf,  and  noth-  . 

ing  less  than 
the  firing  of  a 
cannon  in  the 
room  would 
ordinarilyhave 
disturbed 
them,  but  the 
admiral's 
shout  of  aston- 
ishment would 
have  been 
heard  from  the 
deck  of  the 
flagship  to  the 
most  remote 
vessel  in  the 
fleet. 

"  Too  old  ! 
Too  old!"  he  continued,  "too  old  for 
service!  Why,  you  can't  be  a  day  more 
than  eighty-six  !  " 

"  Eighty-six  last  March,  sir,"  corrobo- 
rated Peters,  with  a  sigh. 

•'  This  is  preposterous!  "  cried  the  ad- 
miral, with  mounting  rage.  "  Go  and  get 
my  stick  at  once,  Peters.  We  shall  see 
if  servants  are  to  be  discharged  in  the 
very  prime  of  their  usefulness." 

Peters  shuffled  off,  and  returned  from  the 
cloak-room  with  the  stout  cane.  The  ad- 
miral took  a  gulp  of  his  liquor  without 
diluting  it,  and  Peters,  handing  him  his 
stick,  stood  by,  not  daring  to  make  any 
ostentatious  display  of  assisting  Sir  Ston- 
age to  rise,  for  the  old  warrior  resented 
any  suggestion  that  the  infirmities  natural 
tr>  his  time  of  life  were  upon  htm,  or  even 
approaching  him.  But  on  this  occasion, 
to  Peters's  amazement,  the  admiral,  firmly 


*  Why,  you  can't  be  a  day  mere  than  eighty- six  t 


planting  his  stick  on  the  right-hand  side  of 
the  deep  chair,  thrust  his  left  hand  within 
the  linked  arm  of  Peters,  and  so  assisted 
himself  to  his  feet,  or  rather  to  his  one 
foot  and  wooden  slump.  Peters  followed 
him  with  anxious  solicitude  as  he  thumped 
towards  the  door;  then  the  admiral,  appar- 
ently regretting  his  temporary  weakness 
in  accepting  the  arm  of  his  underling, 
turned  savagely  upon  him,  and  cried  in 
wrath : 

"  Don't  hover  about  me  in  that  disgust- 
ingly silly  way,  Peters.  You'll  be  saying 
I'm  an  old  man  next." 

"Oh,    no,    sir,"    murmured  the   abject 
Peters. 

The  admiral 
stumped  into  the 
committee  room  of 
the  club,  and  rang  a 
hand-bell  which  was 
upon  the  table,  for 
no  such  modern  im- 
provement as  elec- 
tricity was  anywhere 
to   be   found 

within  the  club. 

When  the  bell 

was     answered 

the    admiral 

—  said  shortly: 

"Send     Mr. 

*A,*%  Norton  to  me,  here." 

Mr.  Norton  came  pres- 
ently   in,    a    clean-cut, 
smooth  -  shaven,       alert 
man,  with  the  air  of  one 
who  knew  his  business. 
Nevertheless,   Mr.   Nor- 
ton seemed  to  have  the 
uneasy  impression  that  he  was  a  man  out  of 
place.     He  looked  like  a  smug,  well-con- 
tented, prosperous  grocer,  who  was  trying 
to  assume  the  dignified  air  of  a  Bank  of 
England  porter.    He  bowed  to  so  important 
a   person  as  the  chairman  of   the   House 
Committee  with  a  deference  that  was  not 
unmixed  with  groveling;  but  the  admiral 
lost  no  time  in  preliminaries,  jumping  at 
once  to  the  matter  that  occupied  his  mind. 
"  I  understand,  sir,  that  you  have  dis- 
missed Peters." 

"Yes,  Sir  Stonage,"  replied  the  man- 
ager. 

"  And  I  have  heard  a  reason  given  of 
such  absurdity  that  I  find  some  difficulty  in 
crediting  it;  so  I  now  give  you  a  chance  to 
explain.  Why  have  you  dismissed  Peters?" 
"On  account  of  hage,  Sir  Stonage," 
replied  the  manager,  cowering  somewhat, 
fearing  stormy  weather  ahead. 


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AN  UNJUST  ACCUSATION. 


T-* 


.*L. 


i 


M  Don't  haver  atout  me  in  that  disgustinffy  silly  way,  Peters.** 

"  Hage,  sir!"  roared  the  admiral,  who 
for  some  unexplained  reason  always  felt 
like  striking  a  man  who  misplaced  his 
"  h's."     "  I  never  heard  of  such  a  word." 

"Peters  is  hold,  sir,"  said  the  mana- 
ger, in  his  agitation  laying  special  stress 
on  the  letter  "  h  "  in  this  sentence. 

"Hold!     Hold!     Are  you  talking  of  a 
ship  ?     Haven't  you  been  taught  to  speak 
English  ?      I  have  aske 
you  can  give  for  the  d 
Will  you  be  so  good  as 
use    only     words     to 
which     I    am    accus- 
tomed ?" 

The  badgered  man- 
ager, remember- 
ing that  he  had 
a  legal  contract 
with    the     club      * 
which  that  body       &) 
could  not  break 
without     giving 
him,  at  least,  a 
year's  notice  or 
bestowing  upon 
him  a  year's  pay,  pluck 
answered  with  some  asp 

"  Peters  is  in  his  dot< 
heighty-six  years  hold, 

Lucky    for    Mr.   Nor 
committee  table  was  between  him  and  the 


angry  admiral.  The  latter  began  stump- 
ing down  the  room,  rapping  on  the  table 
with  the  knob  of  his  stick  as  he  went,  as 
if  he  had  some  thought  of  assaulting  the 
frightened  manager. 

"In  his  dotage  at  eighty-six!  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Do  you  intend  to  insult  the 
whole  club,  sir,  by  such  an  idiotic  remark  ? 
How  old  do  you  think  I  am,  sir?  Do 
you  think  I  am  in  my  dotage  ?  " 

The  manager,  his  grasp  on  the  handle 
of  the  door,  attempted  to  assure  the  ap- 
proaching admiral  that  he  had  no  intention 
whatever  of  imputing  anything  to  any- 
body except  to  old  Peters,  but  he  main- 
tained that  if  he  was.  to  reform  the  club, 
he  must  be  allowed  to  make  such  changes 
as  he  thought  necessary,  without  being 
interfered  with.  This  remark,  so  far  from 
pouring  oil  on  the  troubled  waters,  added 
to  the  exasperation  of  the  admiral. 

"Reform!  The  club  has  no  need  of 
reform." 

So  the  conference  ended  futilely  in  the 
manager  going  back  to  his  den  and  the 
admiral  stumping  off  to  call  a  meeting  of 
the  House  Committee. 

When  the  venerable  relics  of  a  bygone 
age  known  as  the  House  Committee  as- 
sembled in  the  room  set  apart  for  them, 
their  chairman  began  by  explaining  that 
they  were  called  upon  to  meet  a  crisis,  which 
it  behooved  them  to  deal  with  in  that  calm 
and  judicial  frame  of  mind  that  always 
characterized  their  deliberations.  Although 
he  admitted  that  the  new  manager  had  suc- 
ceeded in  making  him  angry,  still  he  would 

now  treat  the 
case  with  that 
equable  temper 
which  all  who 
knew  him  were 
well  aware  he 
possessed. 
Whereupon  he 
disclosed  to 
them  the  reason 
for  their  being 
called  together, 
waxi  ng  more 
and  more  vehe- 
ment as  he  con- 
tinued, his  voice 
becoming  loud- 
er and  louder ; 
and  at  last  he 
emphasized  his 
remarks  by 
pounding  on  the 
table  with  the 
••  Peters  is  in  his  d*tmgt%  sir."  head  of  his  stick 


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"  A  waiting  of  the  House  Committee.' 


until  it  seemed  likely  that  he  would  split 
the  one  or  break  the  other. 

The  members  of  the  committee  were 
unanimously  of  the  opinion  that  the  new 
manager  had  cast  an  aspersion  on  the  club, 
which  was  not  to  be  tolerated;  so  the  sec- 
retary was  requested  to  write  out  a  check, 
while  the  manager  was  sent  for,  that  he 
might  at  once  hear  the  decision  of  the 
committee. 

The  chairman  addressed  Mr.  Norton, 
beginning  in  a  manner  copied  somewhat 
after  the  deliberative  style  of  our  best 
judges  while  pronouncing  sentence,  but 
ending  abruptly,  as  if  the  traditions  of  the 
bench  hampered  him. 

"Sir,  we  have  considered  your  case 
with  that  tranquillity  in  which  any  measure 
affecting  the  welfare  of  our  fellow-crea- 
tures should  be  discussed,  and,  dash  me, 
sir,  we've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  we 
don't  want  you  any  longer.     Go!  " 

The  chairman  at  the  head  of  the  table 
scanned  malevolently  the  features  of  the 
offending  manager,  while  the  different 
heads  of  the  committee,  gray  and  bald, 
nodded  acquiescence.  The  manager,  see- 
ing the  fat  was  in  the  fire  in  any  case,  now 
stood  up  boldly  for  his  rights.  He  de- 
manded a  year's  notice. 

'*  You  shall  have  nothing  of  the  kind, 
sir,"  replied  the  admiral.  "  It  is  not  the 
custom  of  the  club  to  give  a  year's  notice." 

"  I  don't  care  what  the  custom  of  the 
club  his,"  rejoined  Norton.  "  My  con- 
tract calls  for  a  year's  pay  if  I  ham  dis- 
missed." 

"I  don't  care  that  for  your  contract," 


cried  the  admiral,  bringing  his  stick  down 
with  a  whack  on  the  table.  "The  club 
will  not  change  its  invariable  rule  for  you 
or  your  contract." 

"Then  I  shall  sue  the  club  in  the  law 
courts.     You  will  'ear  from  my  solicitor." 

Here  the  admiral,  rising,  poured  forth  a 
stream  of  language  which  it  is  impossible 
to  record,  and  the  members  of  the  com- 
mittee also  rose  to  their  feet,  fearing  a 
breach  of  the  peace. 

"  In  heaven's  name,"  whispered  the  sec- 
retary to  the  manager,  "  don't  anger  the 
admiral  further,  or  there  will  be  trouble. 
Take  the  check  now  and  go  away  with- 
out saying  any  more;  then  if  you  don't 
want  the  other  year's  salary,  bring  it  back 
and  give  it  quietly  to  our  treasurer." 

"  The  hother  year's  salary!  "  cried  Nor- 
ton. 

"  Certainly.  It  is  a  habit  of  the  Growl- 
ers to  pay  two  years'  salary  to  any  one 
whom  they  dismiss." 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Norton, 
seizing  the  check,  which  he  found  was  for 
double  the  amount  which  he  expected. 
Whereupon  he  retired  quickly  to  his  den, 
while  the  committee  set  itself  the  task 
of  soothing  the  righteous  anger  of  the 
admiral. 

And  thus  it  comes  about  that  Peters, 
who  is,  as  Sir  Stonage  Gradburn  swears, 
still  in  the  prime  of  his  usefulness,  serves 
whisky  in  the  smoking-room  of  the 
Growlers  as  usual,  and  the  old  steward 
of  the  club  has  taken  the  place  so  sud 
denly  left  vacant  by  the  departure  of  th- 
energetic  Mr.  Norton. 


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SWEETHEARTS   AND   WIVES. 


By  Anna  A.  Rogers. 


MRS.  ENNIS  was  writing  as  usual  on 
the  bulging  old  atlas  laid  in  her 
lap,  the  traveling-inkstand  at  her  elbow  on 
the  low  window-sill.  She  was  entirely  ab- 
sorbed and  curiously  exhilarated  as  she 
rapidly  filled,  numbered,  and  tossed  aside 
sheet  after  sheet  of  the  thinnest  note-paper. 

All  the  thought,  sentiment,  and  passion 
of  her  being  found  their  outlet  in  her  let- 
ters to  her  absent  husband.  More  than 
all  else,  the  pathos  of  her  starved,  unnat- 
ural existence  was  shown  by  the  pages  she 
wrote  of  homely  details  that  strove  to  make 
real  their  marriage,  to  keep  it  from  becom- 
ing to  them  both  a  sort  of  dream — an  al- 
most fierce  determination  to  hold  him  close 
to  her  daily  life,  hers  and  the  children's. 

It  was  almost  three  years  since  she  and 
her  boy  had  stood  on  the  beach  at  Fort 
Monroe,  up  near  the  soldiers'  cemetery, 
and  watched  the  ship  "all  hands  up  an- 
chor," swing  round,  and  head  for  the 
Capes.  Sometimes  she  had  heard  every 
two  weeks,  sometimes  the  silence  was 
unbroken  for  three  dreary  months,  during 
a  long  cruise  to  some  remote  island  of 
the  Southern  Archipelago.  Then  again, 
while  in  dock  at  Mare  Island,  the  letters 
came  daily.  The  repairs  once  finished,  he 
was  again  blotted  from  her  life  for  weeks, 
and  a  cablegram  in  the  papers,  a  mere  line 
to  say  the  "  Mohican  "  had  arrived  at  Val- 
paraiso or  Callao,  with  the  added  brief 
"  all  well,"  was  what  she  lived  on  till  the 
long  sea  letter,  often  a  month  old,  came 
to  gladden  her  heart  once  more. 

She  was  answering  a  letter  that  had 
come  that  morning  unexpectedly,  brought 
north  by  a  tramp  steamer. 

As  she  began  to  re-read  it  the  third 
time  in  search  of  fresh  stimulus,  she  sud- 
denly started  and  raised  her  flushed  face. 
A  woman's  voice  was  singing,  as  it  ap- 
proached along  the  narrow  hotel  corridor, 
a  series  of  soft  trills  ending  in  a  chro- 
matic run  that  had  the  effect  of  a  low, 
sweet  laugh.  There  was  a  pause,  and 
then  a  sharp  tattoo  on  the  door-panel,  and 
the  voice  sang  to  its  accompaniment: 

44  Un  beau  matin  on  voit  la, 
Un  beau  vaisseau  rapprocher, 

Et  voila  ce  cher  Pedro, 
Que  la  Vierge  a  protege*1—  " 

54 


Mrs.  Ennis  pounced  upon  the  foreign- 
stamped  envelope  lying  at  her  feet,  piled 
helter-skelter  into  her  lap  the  many  loose 
sheets  about  her,  and,  throwing  over  all 
her  long  sewing-apron,  cried: 

"  Come  in,  Alice!  " 

The  door  was  thrown  wide,  a  voice  an- 
nounced pompously,  "Miss  Blithe,"  and 
a  tall,  beautiful  girl  swept  in  with  a  bur- 
lesque grand  air  and  courtesy.  Then  she 
exclaimed  natural'y,  laughing  and  running 
to  Mrs.  Ennis: 

"I'm  so  insanely  happy  to-day,  please 
don't  mind  anything  I  do.  Are  you 
happy,  too,  to-day?"  She  looked  atten- 
tively at  Mrs.  Ennis,  who  nodded  her 
head,  returning  the  girl's  sharp  scrutiny. 
Then  they  both  looked  hastily  away.  Mrs. 
Ennis  caught  up  a  little  jacket,  holding  it 
away  from  her  lest  Alice  should  detect  the 
rustle  of  the  hidden  letter,  and  both  wo- 
men talked  at  random  about  the  best  way 
to  darn  an  obtuse-angled  rent. 

"Mrs.  Ennis,"  began  Miss  Blithe  with 
a  rising  inflection.  Then  she  took  a  deep 
breath,  and  began  again  with  a  falling  in- 
flection: 

"  Mrs.  Ennis,"  again  a  pause,  and  then 
she  said  rapidly: 

"We  ought  to  hear  by  the  same  mail, 
oughtn't  we,  now  that  Archie  has  been 
transferred  to  your  husband's  ship  ?" 

Mrs.  Ennis  looked  up  quickly.  The  girl's 
head  was  on  one  side,  critically  admiring 
the  polish  of  her  pretty  finger-nails,  her 
hand  extended.  Mrs.  Ennis  went  on  with 
her  sewing. 

"As  a  rule,  yes;  but  you  must  learn, 
Alice,  to  make  allowances  at  this  distance. 
A  mail  might  go  off  very  suddenly,  and 
Mr.  Endicott  might  not  hear  the  call;  be 
on  some  special  duty,  asleep  after  a  watch, 
or  ashore.  You  must  remember  the  possi- 
bilities." 

"Yes?  How  about  Dr.  Ennis  in  all 
this?  Doesn't  any  of  it  hold  good  in 
your  case?"  Alice  asked  with  dancing 
eyes.  Mrs.  Ennis  laughed  nervously. 
Presently  Miss  Blithe  wandered  to  the 
window  that  looked  out  toward  the  col- 
lege, across  the  tree-tops. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Ennis!  There  goes  Pres- 
ton again,  on  the  end  of  the  longest  kind 


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SWEETHEARTS  AND    WIVES, 


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of  a  whip-lash!  What  shall  we  do  with 
that— " 

Alice  heard  an  exclamation  behind  her, 
and,  turning  quickly,  found  her  friend 
standing  amidst  a  great  flutter  of  flying 
papers,  her  face  full  of  distress.  The  young 
girl  danced  up  to  her  and  exclaimed: 

"  Oh,  how  delicious!  You  had  it  under 
your  apron  all  the  time — and  look!  "  She 
dived  into  her  pocket  and  pulled  out  a 
letter,  waving  it  aloft  as  she  waltzed  around 
the  room;  and  then  the  two  women  fell 
into  each  other's  arms,  laughing,  and  Alice 
cried  in  a  breath: 

■•  Mine  came  an  hour  ago,  and  I  was  so 
afraid  you  hadn't  got  one — the  doctor 
might  have  been  asleep,  you  know;  so  I 
wouldn't  teil  till  I  knew,  and  you  had  it  all 
the  time!  And  we  were  both  trying  to  be 
so  deep  and  sly!  Isn't  it  lovely!  Now 
let's  sit  down  and  compare  notes." 

They  gathered  up  the  scattered  sheets, 
and  were  once  more  on  a  natural  and  ap- 
parently perfectly  frank  footing;  but  Mrs. 
Ennis  said  nothing  of  a  paragraph  in  the 
doctor's  letter,  near  the  end,  which  read: 
"  Endicott  has  suddenly  gone  to  pieces. 
I  can't  quite  make  it  out  —  heart,  I'm 
afraid.  Our  time  is  up,  and  orders  for 
home  have  not  yet  come.  Of  course  we're 
all  a  good  deal  rattled,  but  it's  downright 
poison  for  him  in  his  present  state." 

And  when  Alice  read  extracts  of  her 
letter  to  Mrs.  Ennis,  she,  too,  passed  over 
a  sentence  with  a  gasp  that  made  the  other 
smile.  It  read:  "Doctor  Ennis  told  me 
there  were  two  cases  of  yellow  fever  on 
this  ship  before  I  joined  her,  and  she  was 
in  quarantine  for  weeks.  He  did  not  write 
his  wife  about  it ;  and  you,  sweetheart  mine, 
are  to  say  nothing  to  her,  unless  exagger- 
ated accounts  get  into  the  papers." 

When  the  letters  were  tenderly  folded 
and  put  away,  Mrs.  Ennis  took  up  her 
work  again,  and  Alice  sat  down  on  a  stool 
at  her  feet,  putting  her  «lbows  on  her 
knees  and  resting  her  chin  on  the  palms 
of  her  hands,  watching  the  quiet,  busy 
mother. 

"  I  wish  I  could  be  more  like  you,  Mrs. 
Ennis.  I  do  get  so  utterly  weary  of  the 
endless  see-saw  of  my  moods.  You  are  so 
strong  and  brave,  and,  above  all,  sane." 

"  Not  always,  Alice." 

"  Well,  then  it's  all  the  more  admirable, 
for  no  one  ever  sees  the  other  side." 

"  I  had  a  temperament  very  like  yours 
when  I  married  the  doctor,  and  I've  been 
frozen  into  what  you  call  sanity  by  the 
strain  of  this  life  of  ours.  He  and  I  have 
been   separated   six  years  out  of  eleven. 


Of  course  nowadays  that  is  unusual,  but 
he  is  not  a  4  Coburger ' ;  we  have  no  house 
in  Washington,  neither  political  nor  so- 
cial influence.  When  George  is  ordered  to 
sea,  after  three  years'  shore  duty,  he  goes. 
It's  the  old  story  of  the  willing  horse." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  have  gone 
to  San  Francisco  or  Honolulu,  as  Mrs. 
French  and  Mrs.  Atherton  did.  They 
saw  their  husbands  twice,  and  had  such 
lovely  times,  they  wrote.  Why  didn't 
you,  Mrs.  Ennis?  " 

"  We  have  nothing  but  the  doctor's  pay, 
Alice." 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon!  I  am  so 
thoughtless,"  cried  the  girl. 

"  Don't  distress  yourself,  my  dear  child. 
Fortunately,  expense  is  the  last  thing  you 
ever  have  to  think  about.  I  don't  in  the 
least  object  to  telling  you  my  little  affairs. 
He  has  to  help  his  mother  in  a  small  way, 
and  my  father  has  his  hands  full.  Then, 
because  we  can't  save  anything,  my  hus- 
band carries  a  rather  heavy — for  us,  of 
course — life  insurance;  and  so  we  always 
sail  very  close  to  the  wind."  And,  to 
Alice's  bewilderment,  Mrs.  Ennis  smiled 
as  she  went  on: 

"  I  can't  be  too  thankful  I  stumbled  on 
this  little  nook — fresh  air  for  Dorothy  and 
a  good  school  for  Preston,  and,  between 
the  college  sessions,  the  hotel  practically 
to  ourselves.  And  then  you  followed  me 
here,  and  behold  my  own  opera  on  de- 
mand, like  a  queen  ;  your  lovely  rooms, 
and  all  the  books,  and  you  and  your 
gowns,  neither  ever  twice  the  same — a  con- 
stant source  of  delight  to  me." 

"  Oh,  really!  "  and  the  girl's  white  face 
flushed  with  pleasure,  and  her  eager  young 
eyes  drooped  shyly  like  a  child's. 

There  was  a  short  silence,  and  Mrs. 
Ennis  sewed  buttons  on  a  pile  of  little 
shabby  shoes,  and  Alice  put  a  liquid  black- 
ing on  them,  and  laid  them  one  by  one  on 
a  newspaper  to  dry.  Finally,  the  latter 
said: 

"  I  was  so  glad  to  come,  for  Aunty  is 
not  very  sympathetic  about  my  engage- 
ment to  Archie,  you  know.  She  doesn't 
object  to  the  Mr.  Endicott,  but  the  Lieu- 
tenant Endicott.  She  declares  she  doesn't 
understand  anything  about  the  navy — 
never  even  heard  of  it  before — and  she's 
much  too  old  to  begin!  " 

"I  fancy  Mrs.  Percy  thinks  it  a  little 
vulgar,  Alice;  many  people  do  until — well, 
there's  a  war  scare." 

"You  won't  breathe  it,  will  you,  Mrs. 
Ennis,  even  to  the  doctor,  if  I  tell  you 
something?"     Alice  took  a  deep  breath. 


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SWEETHEARTS  AND    WIVES. 


"  I  fairly  hurled  myself  at  Archie  before 
he  would  propose!  " 

"I  fancy  you,"  said  the  other,  with  a 
laugh. 

41  Of  course  that  sounds  worse  than  it 
really  was,  because  I  knew  perfectly  well, 
ever  since  that  winter  in  Washington,  that 
he — liked  me  ;  and  that  it  was  only  all 
this  horrid  money  poor  papa  left  that 
came  between  us — that  and  his  stupid 
pride.  You  see,  Aunty  and  I  were  at  home 
in  New  York  before  the  *  Mohican  '  sailed, 
and  he  kept  coming  to  the  house,  and 
sometimes  he  would  only  stay  ten  minutes 
and  then  rush  off,  saying  he  had  a  watch 
to  stand,  or  was  on  a  board  of  survey,  or 
had  promised  to  take  somebody's  relief — 
whatever  that  means.  He  was  so  irritating, 
you  can't  believe!  Well,  one  day  those 
lawyers  wrote  me  one  of  their  tiresome 
legal  letters  that  take  four  sheets  to  say 
one  little  simple  thing  that  I  can  say  in 
two  sentences.  I  groped  around  in  the 
slough  of  words  awhile,  and  finally  discov- 
ered I  was  being  scolded  for  spending  too 
much  money  to  suit  them — I  had  to  give 
things  to  Aunty,  you  see,  to  make  Archie's 
path  more  smiling — and  that  gave  me  an 
idea.  I  closed  the  house  and  dragged  her 
off  to  the  boarding-house  in  Gramercy 
Park,  where  I  met  you.  It  was  before 
Dorothy  came,  and  my  heart  ached  so 
for  you  and  the  poor  doctor."  Alice, 
holding  off  a  tiny  wet  shoe,  stooped  over 
and  kissed  the  hand  pulling  the  linen 
thread  back  and  forth  through  a  button- 
loop. 

The  mother  looked  up  and  smiled. 

"  Aunty  vowed  she'd  take  me  before  the 
Commission  in  Lunacy.  She  couldn't 
understand  why  I  took  to  wearing  old 
traveling-dresses,  and  packed  away  all  my 
rings  and  furbelows.  When  Archie  came 
I  assumed  an  anxious,  careworn  look,  and 
pretended  to  be  nervous  and  absent- 
minded.  I  never  worked  so  hard  over 
anything  in  all  my  life.  And  he  was  so 
bewildered,  poor  boy!  Only  a  fortnight 
before  the  *  Mohican  *  sailed,  he  came  one 
afternoon  and  I  was  more  pathetic  than 
ever.  I  was  simply  determined  !  Finally, 
he  burst  out  with:  *  Miss  Blithe,  what  is  it  ? 
I  can't  stand  this  sort  of  thing  any 
longer.  Won't  you  tell  me  ? '  And  Mrs. 
Ennis,  what  do  you  think  I  said  ?  I  an- 
swered in  a  husky  sort  of  way — I'd  been 
practicing  for  a  month — '  Money! '  And 
then  —  well  —  there  was  a  lovely  scene. 
Don't  you  like  scenes  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  I'm  a  woman!  " 

'*  Then  what  do  you  suppose  I  did  ?  " 


"  You  asked  him  to  give  you  till  to- 
morrow, and  so  forth,  and  so  forth." 

"Exactly!  Wasn't  it  too  dreadful?" 
cried  Alice. 

"Oh!  we  all  do  it.  We  suggest,  as  it 
were,  and  then  retreat.  You  must  never 
quote  me  as  saying  so,  but  I  shouldn't  like 
to  tell  what  I  think  would  become  of  the 
question  of  matrimony  if  we  didn't." 

The  children  dashed  in,  and  Alice  ran 
away,  singing  as  she  went: 

**  Ecoutez,  Sainte  Marie, 
Je  donnerai  mon  beau  collier. 

Si  vous  ferez  rapporter, 
Revenir  mon  cher  Pedro." 

Several  weeks  later,  one  evening  after 
the  children  had  gone  to  sleep,  Mrs.  En- 
nis sat  at  the  table  covered  with  a  temple- 
cloth,  absorbed  in  the  worship  of  the 
god  called  Daikoku  in  the  land  whence 
came  the  glittering  brocade. 

There,  should  have  been  a  thread  of  in- 
cense burning  and  the  tinkle  of  a  bell  to 
rouse  the  ever-drowsy  god  of  wealth;  but 
the  supplicant  had  much  the  same  attitude 
and  expression  here  as  there,  of  hunger 
and  weariness,  as  she  sat  with  clasped 
hands  and  head  bowed  over  several  little 
piles  of  postal  receipts  from  the  Navy 
Mutual  Aid  Association.  There  had  been 
two  extra  assessments  that  month,  and 
that  was  a  financial  tragedy  in  her  life.  A 
feminine  panic  had  seized  upon  her;  she 
must  go  over  it  all  once  more.  It  meant 
so  much  just  then.  She  had  planned  so 
closely,  and  had  hoped  to  meet  her  hus- 
band dressed  as  he  liked  to  see  her,  all  in 
brown  from  head  to  foot — as  if  he  really 
cared  ;  but  it  would  have  been  one  of 
those  ultra-happinesses  that  all  her  life 
long  had  been  denied  her. 

There  was  a  soft  tap  at  the  door,  and 
Alice's  maid  handed  her  a  note,  a  mere 
line: 

"  Please  come  down  and  be  audience. 
Aunty  will  not  keep  awake,  and  I  must 
sing  to-night  or  die!  Maggie  will  stay 
with  the  children." 

So  she  went,  and  found  Alice  in  her 
maddest  mood  and  Mrs.  Percy  gone  to 
bed  in  her  grumpiest. 

Alice  had  felt  like  making  a  toilet  that 
evening,  and  wore  a  beautiful  gown  of 
soft  clinging  gray,  with  white  chiffon  at 
the  fair  throat  and  wrists,  that  fluttered 
like  a  seagull's  wings  against  a  dull  sky 
as  she  flew  to  the  door  and  greeted  her 
friend. 

"  You  angel  of  mercy!  I  was  so  afraid 
you   couldn't,   or  you    wouldn't,    or   you 


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57 


mustn't,  or  something — that  subjunctive 
of  yours  is  the  bane  of  my  existence." 
And  she  laughed  and  pushed  Mrs.  Ennis 
into  an  arm-chair,  and  placed  a  footstool 
for  her,  lifting  each  square-toed,  heavy- 
soled  boot  and  putting  it  down  on  the  soft 
plush  cover,  one  at  a  time,  with  a  tender- 
ness that  did  not  escape  her  friend.  Then 
a  cushion  was  laid  under  her  head,  and 
Alice  exclaimed: 

"There!  It's  the  thing  nowadays  to 
make  even  hanging  as  comfortable  as  pos- 
sible, so  it's  the  very  least  I  can  do  for 
my  little  victim." 

Mrs.  Ennis  gave  herself  up  to  the  girl's 
whim,  folding  her  busy  hands  on  her  lap. 

Always  of  an  exquisite  timbre  and  cul- 
tivated up  to  the  limit  of  the  social  law  in 
such  matters,  Alice's  voice  had  in  it  that 
night  an  additional  passionate  throb  that 
sent  the  tears  at  once  to  Mrs.  Ennis's  eyes, 
and  they  stayed  there  through  song  after 
song. 

Then  the  girl  suddenly  stopped,  and 
wheeled  round  on  the  stool.  The  soft, 
yellow  light  from  the  shaded  piano-lamp 
fell  about  her  like  a  radiance  in  the  other- 
wise darkened  room. 

"Isn't  that  enough?  I  never  know 
when  to  stop  when  I  have  you  at  my 
mercy;  you're  just  the  dear  old  gallery, 
which  doesn't  know  one  note  from  another, 
and  yet  has  critical  emotions,  fresh  and 
honest,  with  none  of  the  pedantry  of  the 
orchestra  nor  the  -subdivided  interest  of 
the  boxes.  I  know  there  are  tears  in 
your  eyes,  and  I'm  afraid  I  can't  sing  any- 
thing to-night  to  drive  them  away.  Life 
seems  all  in  a  minor  key — I  mean  as  Wag- 
ner manages  it — not  thinly  sentimental  and 
genteelly  pathetic,  but  harsh  and  terrible, 
with  clashing  discords  that  make  one  want 
to  scream  with  the  agony  of  it  all.  There! 
my  singing's  better  than  this  sort  of  thing, 
at  least.     I'll  spare  you." 

She  turned  again  to  the  piano  and  sang, 
without  the  music,  Grieg,  Franz,  Lassen; 
then  once  more  back  to  Grieg.  Then  her 
voice  was  still,  and  her  fingers  played  over 
and  over  again  a  curious  succession  of 
chords,  that  ended  in  a  sort  of  interroga- 
tion.    Finally  she  said,  softly: 

"There's  something  I  haven't  sung 
since  Archie  went  away.  I  feel  like  sing- 
ing it  to-night  for  you.  You  see  it  ends 
in  a  long,  rather  high  note,  held  endlessly 
with  a  slight  tremolo,  dying  out  and  com- 
ing back  in  a  sort  of  echo.  One  evening 
he  said  it  carried  him  back  to  Japan. 
There's  a  park  called  Shiba,  near  Tokio, 
I  think  he  said,  where  there's  a  huge  statue 


of  Buddha,  and  a  temple  near  by  with  a 
bell  whose  notes  go  ringing  on  and  on, 
dying  away  and  then  returning  in  a  won- 
derful way;  so  he  called  the  song  4  Shiba,' 
and  this  is  the  way  it  goes — "  A  sharp 
knock  at  the  door  startled  them  both. 

"Let  me.  go!"  cried  Mrs.  Ennis,  for 
what  reason  she  never  knew  as  long  as 
she  lived. 

"The  idea!"  said  Alice,  opening  the 
door  with  a  laugh.  A  telegraph-boy  stood 
outside,  and  he  inquired: 

"Miss  Alice  Blithe?" 

There  was  a  flash  from  her  jeweled  hand 
as  she  tore  open  the  envelope  the  boy 
handed  to  her.  An  instant's  silence,  and 
with  only  a  moan  of,  "  Oh,  my  God!  "  the 
girl  threw  out  her  arms  as  if  pushing  some- 
thing back  from  her,  and  fell  backwards 
as  if  struck.  The  paper  and  envelope 
fluttered  to  the  floor  more  slowly.  Mrs. 
Ennis  sprang  to  her  feet,  closed  the  door, 
calling  Mrs.  Percy  again  and  again.  She 
rang  the  bell  and  sent  for  a  doctor — she 
was  so  sure  of  the  contents  of  that  hideous 
yellow  paper — working  meanwhile  over 
the  senseless  girl,  who  lay  as  one  dead. 
Mrs.  Percy  came  in  frightened  and  be- 
wildered. 

"What's  the  matter?  I  was  sound 
asleep;  I  thought  it  was  fire.  Why  doesn't 
Alice  get  up  ?     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  any  more  than  you  do," 
Mrs.  Ennis  found  herself  saying  coldly. 
"  A  telegram  came,  and  this  is  the  result. 
I  beg  you  to  go  at  once  for  Maggie;  I  must 
have  help." 

Mrs.  Percy  read  the  telegram  aloud 
first: 

"  From  Montevideo.  '  Lieutenant  Endi- 
cott  died  March  twentieth.  Buried  at 
sea.'     Signed  '  Westcott,  Commander.'" 

Mrs.  Percy  laid  the  paper  down  gently, 
and  left  the  room  instantly  and  in  silence. 
It  was  then  the  first  week  in  April,  and 
they  had  not  known. 

For  two  days  Alice  was  happily  oblivi- 
ous to  everything,  and  the  doctor  made 
those  three  visits  a  day  that  represent  so 
many  fights  with  death.  Mrs.  Ennis  stayed 
by  her  day  and  night,  the  children  going 
to  a  neighbor's,  until  there  was  some 
change  in  the  stricken  girl.  When  the  dry, 
white  lips  first  moved,  Mrs.  Ennis  bent 
closely  and  caught: 

'*  Un  beau  matin  on  voit  la 
Un  beau  vaisseau— Pedro," 

and  after  that  there  were  days  of  delirium, 
with  terrible  bursts  of  singing  and  pitiful 
laughter. 


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SWEETHEARTS  AND    WIVES. 


Two  trained  nurses  came,  and  Mrs. 
Ennis  took  up  her  own  life  again,  and  with 
it  a  terror  that  would  not  leave  her  for  an 
hour.  The  children  tiptoed  and  whis- 
pered about  their  rooms,  three  floors  re- 
moved. 

After  a  fortnight  Alice  was  better,  free 
from  fever,  and  conscious,  lying  almost 
pulseless,  following  with  wide-stretched, 
vacant  eyes  the  figures  moving  about  her 
room. 

Dr.  Knutt  did  not  like  the  looks  of 
things,  and  he  sent  for  Mrs.  Ennis  and 
told  her  as  much,  as  they  walked  up  and 
down  together  in  the  hall  outside  the  sick- 
room. 

44 1  want  you  to  use  your  woman's  wits 
— stir  her  up,  wake  her  up,  shake  her  up, 
somehow.  I  consider  it  pure  philanthropy 
to  force  her  to  live,  willy-nilly.  There  are 
plenty  of  good  women  in  the  world — a 
doctor  knows  that;  and  there  are  entirely 
too  many  clever  ones.  But  beauty  like 
Miss  Blithe's  is  rare  and  owes  its  leaven 
to  the  lump.  I  know,  I  know!"  he  ex- 
claimed, in  response  to  a  deprecatory  move- 
ment of  Mrs.  Ennis's  hands.  "All  the 
same,  I'll  stick  to  it,  and  a  big  dose  of 
statistics  once  a  day  wouldn't  hurt  the 
whole  lot  of  you.  Well,  good-night," 
and  he  stamped  off  down  the  long  corridor. 

Then  there  came  the  bright  May  morn- 
ing and  the  telegram  for  Mrs.  Ennis  from 
Staten  Island,  which  said: 

"  Arrived  daybreak.  Am  well.  Pack  everything. 
Come  immediately.  Wire  your  train.  Address 
Stapleton.  George  Ennis." 

Not  until  then  did  the  woman's  brave 
heart  falter,  much  as  an  infant's  tiny  feet 
totter  as  they  near  the  open  arms  at  the 
end  of  their  first  little  journey  in  the 
world.     But  she  managed  to  say,  quietly: 

44  The  ship's  in,  Preston.  Papa  wants 
us.  Take  Dorothy  into  the  other  room 
and  get  her  toys  together." 

Behind  the  closed  door  she  gave  way 
completely,  and  kneeling  at  her  bedside 
she  laid  her  head  on  her  pillow — that  wo- 
man's Gethsemane — which  had  known  of 
her  lonely,  wakeful  nights,  the  tears  of 
weariness,  and  later  that  agony  of  sus- 
pense. 

41  It  is  over — it  is  over,  thank  God!  Oh, 
my  love,  my  love,  no  one  will  ever  know 
what  it  has  been,"  she  whispered.  Then 
she  arose  and  walked  up  and  down  the  little 
room,  nervously  patting  her  left  hand  with 
her  right  in  unconscious  self-pity,  as  she 
would  have  soothed  Dorothy's  woes. 

The  instinct    of    motherhood    in    some 


women  even  encompasses  themselves.  A 
smile  came  slowly  to  her  lips,  a  happy 
light  to  her  eyes  that  took  ten  years  from 
her  age;  then  she  stood  and  laughed 
aloud,  called  the  children  to  her  and 
kissed  them,  answering  twenty  excited 
questions  in  a  breath. 

They  had  three  hours  before  the  express 
train  left  for  New  York.  She  had  studied 
it  out  long  ago,  and  did  not  lose  a  mo- 
ment. The  delight  of  her  stinted  life,  the 
Indian  rug  given  by  the  wardroom  of  the 
44  Marion"  as  a  wedding  present,  was 
rolled  up  and  slipped  into  the  canvas  bag, 
and  with  a  score  of  strong  stitches  across 
the  end  it  stood  ready.  The  diagonal 
flights  of  Havana  fans  came  down  from 
the  walls  with  a  rush.  The  children's  joy, 
the  Chinese  flag  with  its  green-backed 
dragon  reaching  out  with  almost  vegetable 
ardor  for  the  fiery  sun,  fell  without  parley. 
Eight  little  gilt -headed  tacks  in  each 
room  were  wrenched  out,  and  down  slid 
the  blue  Japanese  chijimi  curtains.  Walls, 
tables,  and  closets  were  stripped  in  a  flash, 
the  trunks  packed,  and  in  less  than  two 
hours  after  the  glad  news  came,  the  little 
high-perched  rooms  that  had  been  their 
home  for  so  long  were  bare,  cheerless, 
characterless — a  home  no  more;  simply 
number  seventy,  fourth  floor. 

Mrs.  Ennis  stood  ready,  dressed,  as  ever, 
two  years  behind  the  fashions,  but  with  a 
glow  on  her  plain,  strong  face  that  made 
her  almost  beautiful. 

The  children,  in  a  mood  for  exalted  obe- 
dience, sat  holding  hands,  wide-eyed.  The 
mother  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief;  then 
suddenly  she  started  and  exclaimed: 

44  Alice!" 

She  took  off  her  hat,  and  in  two  minutes 
was  standing  by  the  girl's  bedside.  Her 
hands  were  cold  and  trembled  so,  she  dared 
not  give  the  accustomed  caress.  She  sat 
where  her  face  could  not  be  seen,  and 
then  said  gently,  fighting  down  the  throb 
in  her  voice: 

"Alice,  I'm  going  away  for  a  little 
while;  but,  of  course,  if  you  need  me  or 
even  want  me — you  see  how  conceited 
you've  made  me! — you  must  let  me  know 
at  once.     You'll  do  that,  won't  you  ?  " 

At  the  first  word  the  girl  turned  her 
head  with  an  effort,  so  that  she  could  see 
her  friend's  profile. 

44  Your  father  ill?"  she  asked  faintly, 
in  the  voice  that  had  changed  even  more 
than  her  face. 

44  Oh,  no — that  is,  I  hope  not;  although 
you  remember  I  told  you  I  feel  very 
anxious  about  him,  and — "      Mrs.  Ennis 


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was  too  honest,  too  simple,  for  the  task. 
Alice  watched  her  intently,  detecting  at 
once,  with  the  invalid's  quickened  sensibil- 
ity, first  the  repressed  excitement,  then  the 
false  note. 

44  Are  you  going  there?"  she  asked  in 
the  same  slow,  expressionless  way. 

44  Oh,  yes!  later — that  is,  I  must  go 
first — elsewhere.  Now,  Alice,  I'll  write  a 
line  every  day,  and  I've  arranged  with  Mrs. 
Percy  to — " 

44 1  know  what  it  is!  I  know  just  what 
it  is!"  suddenly  exclaimed  Alice  excit- 
edly, dragging  herself  up  on  the  pillows. 
Mrs.  Ennis's  heart  gave  a  bound,  and  then 
seemed  to  stop. 

44  It's  our  ship — it  has  come!  Our  ship 
has  come  in!  "  She  sat  erect,  with  dilated 
eyes  looking  ahead.  Mrs.  Ennis  threw 
herself  on  her  knees,  with  her  arms  about 
the  girl,  and  buried  her  face. 

44  I'd  be  so  glad  if  I  could  only  feel  any- 
thing; but  you  know  I'm  glad,  don't  you, 
'way  down  under  it  all  ?  I  can  see  it,  I  can 
see  it! .  You  said  it  would  be  this  way;  I 
remember  every  word:  First  the  tiny 
streamer  of  smoke  'way  down  the  bay — it's 
not  like  other  smoke,  somehow;  we  can 
always  tell  it,  can't  we  ?  And  the  tugs 
and  the  other  things  get  out  of  the  way, 
don't  they?"  and  she  laughed  a  little. 
44  And  then  she  comes  in  sight,  so  slowly, 
just  creeping  along,  and  she  looks  so  dingy 
and  tired,  somehow,  from  the  long,  long 
way  she's  come.  And  then  we  can  see 
the  long,  homeward-bound  pennant  flutter- 
ing, and  the  big  black  bunches  of  sailors 
in  the  front,  and  the  little  dark  knots  of 
officers  at  the  back,  and  each  one  looks 
exactly  like  the  one — the  one  we — "  She 
stopped,  and  then,  with  a  terrible  cry,  she 
threw  herself  forward  on  the  bed,  and  broke 
into  wild,  heartrending  sobs. 

Mrs.  Ennis  struggled  to  her  feet  and  ran 
to  the  door,  which  she  found  ajar,  and  Dr. 
Knutt  standing  there  smiling.  He  drew 
her  outside,  shut  the  door,  and  shook  her 
hand  till  it  ached. 

•*  Nothing  could  be  better!  I'm  simply 
delighted.  I  knew  you'd  find  a  way. 
We'll  have  her  as  right  as  a  trivet  in  two 
weeks — you'll  see.  Trust  me  a  little  and 
nature  a  great  deal.  I  tell  you  this  has 
saved  her  life.  Haven't  you  got  to  plow 
before  new  seeds  are  sown  ?    Well!     Now 


you  run  away,  and  I'll  send  old  Maggie  in 
to  her.  All  she  needs  is  a  little  Irish 
babying.  Confound  these  sailors,  any- 
how, for  the  way  they  have  with  the 
womenkind!"  he  muttered  to  himself 
when  alone. 

As  the  express  train  went  slowly  into 
the  station  at  Jersey  City,  Mrs.  Ennis  ex- 
claimed: 

44  Don't  miss  a  single  face,  Preston!  " 

44  Did  you  say  a  beard,  mamma?  I've 
forgotten.  Maybe  I  won't  know  him;  I'm 
so  sorry,"  and  the  boy's  voice  broke. 

14  The  last  letter  said  no  beard.  Never 
mind,  dear;  mamma  isn't  at  all  sure  she'll 
know  him  herself,"  and  she  laughed  ex- 
citedly. 

The  train  stopped,  and  they  got  out,  but 
no  one  greeted  them.  They  stood  out  of 
the  line  of  people  hurrying  towards  the 
ferries.  Mrs.  Ennis  gripped  Preston's 
hand  and  cried  to  him  pitifully: 

44  Oh,  my  boy!  do  you  think  anything 
can  be  wrong? " 

41  It's  all  right,  I'm  just  as  sure  as  sure 
can  be,"  the  little  man  kept  saying  bravely, 
swallowing  the  rising  lumps  in  his  throat. 
Then  a  deep  voice  behind  them  said: 

44  Isn't  this  Mrs.  Ennis — the  wife  of  Sur- 
geon Ennis  of  the — " 

44  Yes,  yes;  what  is  it  ?  Why  can't  you 
speak  ?"  she  cried,  turning  fiercely.  She 
was  white  to  the  lips,  and  moisture  stood 
out  on  her  face  in  beads. 

44  Why,  mamma,  it's  Frohman!"  ex- 
claimed Preston,  recognizing  his  old 
friend,  the  ship's  apothecary,  who  said 
quickly: 

44  Dr.  Ennis  is  perfectly  well.  He  was 
detained  on  board,  and  told  me  to  give  you 
this,"  handing  her  a  note,  which  she  tore 
open,  reading  hungrily  the  hastily  pen- 
ciled lines: 

44  My  darling,  I'm  so  sorry  not  to  meet 
you!  You  cannot  feel  it  more  than  I  do. 
The  navigator  is  ill — there's  a  consulta- 
tion— I  had  to  be  here.  Think  of  his  wife, 
and  have  courage  for  a  few  hours  more. 
Seven  o'clock,  sure!  Frohman  will  look 
after  you.  Go  to  the  Gramercy  Park 
House.  Get  nice  rooms.  Don't  stint 
yourself.  Saved  a  pile  on  the  home  run. 
Love  to  my  babies,  and  God  bless  you — 
the  best,  bravest,  truest,  bonniest  wife  in 
the  world!" 


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A    TWENTIETH    CENTURY    WOMAN. 


By  Ella  Higginson, 
Author  of  "  The  Takin'  in  of  Old  Miss  Lane,"  and  Other  Stories. 


MR.    DAWSON   stood   at  the  dining 
room   window.       His   hands   were 
deep   in    his   trousers  pockets.      He   was 
jingling  some  pieces  of  silver  money,  and 
swearing  silently  with  closed  lips. 

The  room  looked  more  like  a  business 
office  than  a  dining-room  in  a  house.  It 
was  furnished  handsomely,  but  with  ex- 
treme plainness.  There  was  an  air  of 
stiffness  about  everything.  There  were 
no  plants  in  the  windows;  there  was  not 
a  flower  on  the  table,  which  stood  ready 
for  breakfast.  In  a  word,  there  were  no 
feminine  touches  anywhere. 

Precisely  at  eight  o'clock  a  strong, 
quick  step  came  down  the  stairs  and 
through  the  hall.  Mr.  Dawson  turned 
with  a  quelled  impatience  in  his  manner. 
His  wife  entered. 

"Oh,"  she  said.  She  glanced  at  him, 
smiling  mechanically,  as  one  would  at  a 
child.  Then  she  walked  rapidly  to  a  little 
table,  and  began  to  look  over  the  morning 
mail.  "Have  you  been  waiting?"  she 
added,  absent-mindedly. 

"It  is  not  of  the  least  consequence." 
Mr.  Dawson  spoke  with  a  fine  sarcasm. 
It  was  wasted.  She  did  not  even  hear  the 
reply. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  tossing  down  a  letter 
and  turning  to  ring  for  breakfast.  "  I 
must  run  up  to  Salem  on  the  noon  train." 

An  untidy  servant  entered. 

"Breakfast,  please,"  said  Mrs.  Dawson, 
without  looking  at  the  girl.  She  seated 
herself  at  the  breakfast-table,  and  opened 
the  morning  paper,  which  had  been  laid  at 
her  place.  Mr.  Dawson  sat  down  opposite 
her.  There  was  silence,  save  for  the  oc- 
casional rustle  of  the  paper  as  Mrs.  Daw- 
son turned  it  sharply.  Her  eyes  glanced 
alertly  from  heading  to  heading,  pausing 
here  and  there  to  read  something  of  inter- 
est. Her  husband  looked  at  her  from 
time  to  time.  At  last  he  said,  again  with 
fine  sarcasm,  "  Any  news  ?  " 

Mrs.  Dawson  finished  the  article  she 
was  reading.  Then,  with  a  little  start,  as 
if  she  had  just  heard,  she  said:  "  Oh,  no, 
no;  nothing  of  consequence,  my  dear." 
But  she  read  on,  more  intently  than  before. 
60 


"Well,"  said  her  husband  presently, 
with  a  touch  of  sharpness,  "  here  are  the 
strawberries.  Can  you  take  time  to  eat 
them?" 

She  sighed  impatiently.  Three  deep 
lines  gathered  between  her  brows.  She 
folded  the  paper  slowly,  and  put  it  in  an 
inside  pocket  of  her  jacket.  She  wore  a 
street  dress,  made  with  a  very  full  skirt 
which  reached  a  few  inches  below  the 
knees.  The  jacket  was  short,  and  had 
many  pockets.  She  wore,  also,  a  tan-silk 
shirt,  rolled  collar  and  tie,  and  leggings. 
Her  hair  was  arranged  very  plainly.  In 
spite  of  her  unbecoming  attire,  however, 
she  was  a  beautiful  woman,  and  her  hus- 
band loved  her  and  was  proud  of  her. 

This  did  not  prevent  him,  though,  from 
saying,  with  something  like  a  feminine 
pettishness,  "  Mrs.  Dawson,  I  wish  you 
would  remember  to  leave  the  paper  for 
me. 

Mrs.  Dawson  looked  at  him  in  surprised 
displeasure.  "  I  have  not  finished  reading 
it  myself,"  she  said  coldly.  "Besides, 
there  is  nothing  in  it  that  will  interest 
you.  It  is  mostly  political  news.  If  I 
had  time  to  read  it  before  I  go  down  town, 
it  would  be  different;  but  I  am  out  so  late 
every  night,  I  must  sleep  till  the  last  min- 
ute in  the  morning  to  keep  my  strength 
for  the  campaign.  You  cannot  complain 
that  I  forget  to  bring  it  home  for  you  in 
the  evening." 

Mr.  Dawson  coughed  scornfully,  but 
made  no  reply  for  some  minutes.  Finally 
he  said,  in  a  taunting  tone,  "  It's  all  very 
well  for  you.  You  are  down  town  all  day, 
among  people,  hearing  everything  that  is 
going  on — while  I  sit  here  alone,  without 
even  a  paper  to  read!  " 

For  a  moment  Mrs.  Dawson  was  angry. 
Here  she  was  with  an  invalid  husband  and 
two  children,  working  early  and  late  to 
support  them  comfortably.  She  had  been 
successful — so  successful  that  she  had  re- 
ceived the  nomination  for  State  Senator  on 
the  Republican  ticket.  She  loved  her  hus- 
band. She  was  proud  of  herself  for  her 
own  sake,  but  certainly  more  for  his  sake. 
She  thought  he  ought  to  make  her  way 


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A    TWENTIETH  CENTURY   WOMAN. 


61 


V 


".      .      .      WHILE   I   SIT   HERE  ALONE  WITHOUT  EVEN  A  PAPEE 
TO   READ." 

easier  for  her.  He  was  not  strong,  and  it 
was  her  wish  that  he  should  not  exert  him- 
self in  the  least.  All  she  asked  of  him 
was  to  look  after  the  servants,  order  the 
dinners,  entertain  the  children  when  the 
nurse  was  busy,  and  be  cheerful  and  pleas- 
ant the  short  time  she  was  at  home.  Surely, 
it  was  little  enough  to  ask  of  him;  and  it 
was  hard  that  he  should  fail  even  in  this. 

When,  two  years  previous,  equal  suf- 
frage had  been  graciously  granted  to 
women,  Mr.  Dawson,  being  then  in  failing 
health,  had  most  cheerfully  turned  his  real- 
estate  business  over  to  his  wife.  At  first 
she  managed  it  under  his  advice  and  in- 
structions. He  was  simply  amazed  at  the 
ease  with  which  she  "caught  on."  In 
less  than  six  months  she  ceased  to  ask  for 
suggestions,  and  his  proffered  advice  was 
received  with  such  a  chill  surprise  that  it 
soon  ceased  altogether. 

At  first  the  change  had  seemed  like 
heaven  to  Mr.  Dawson.  It  was  a  delight- 
ful novelty  to  give  orders  about  dinners 
and  things  to  maids  who  giggled  prettily 
at  his  mistakes;  to  have  the  children 
brought  in  by  the  respectfully  amused 
nurse  for  an  hour's  romp;  to  entertain 
his  gentlemen  friends  at  afternoon  "  smok- 
ers" (Mrs.  Dawson's  dainty  afternoon 
tea-table  had  been  removed  to  the  garret ; 
a  larger  table,  holding  cigars,  decanters, 


etc.,  had  taken  its  place);  to  saunter  down 
to  his  wife's  office  whenever  he  felt  inclined. 

But  the  maids  soon  grew  accustomed  to 
the  change.  They  received  some  of  his 
more  absurd  orders  with  more  insolence 
than  merriment.  He  began  to  have  an 
uneasy  feeling  in  their  presence.  They 
really  were  not  respectful.  The  nurse  no 
longer  smiled  when  she  brought  the  chil- 
dren. What  was  worse,  she  left  them  with 
him  much  more  than  at  first. 

The  children  themselves,  somehow, 
seemed  to  be  getting  out  of  clothes  and 
out  of  manners.  He  told  the  nurse  to 
have  some  clothes  made  for  them.  She 
asked  what  seamstress  he  preferred,  and 
what  material. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered,  helplessly. 
"  Get  any  good  seamstress,  and  let  her 
select  the  materials." 

The  nurse  brought  a  friend  from  the 
country.  She  asked  him  how  he  wished 
them  made. 

"  How  ?  "  he  repeated,  with  some  anger. 
"Why,  in  the  fashion,  of  course."  She 
made  them  in  the  style  then  in  vogue  in 
Stumpville.  When  he  saw  them,  he 
swore.  When  he  spoke  to  his  wife  about 
it,  she  replied,  with  an  impatience  that 
strove  to  be  good-natured,  "Why,  my 
dear,  I  don't  trouble  you  about  my  busi- 
ness perplexities,  do  I  ?  Really,  I  haven't 
time  to  think  of  so  much — with  this  cam- 
paign on  my  shoulders,  too.  You  must 
try  to  manage  better.  Find  stylish  seam- 
stresses— and  don't  trust  even  them. 
Study  the  magazines  and  styles  yourself. 
It  is  quite  a  study — but  I  am  sure  you 
have  time.  And  while  I  think  about  it, 
dear,  I  wish  you  would  see  that  the  roasts 
are  not  overdone." 

The  smokers  and  little  receptions  among 
the  men  became  bores. 

So  many  women  now  being  in  business, 
their  husbands  were  compelled  to  maintain 
the  family  position  in  society.  Mr.  Daw- 
son submitted.  But  he  considered  it  an 
infernal  nuisance  to  carry  his  wife's  cards 
around  with  him.  Sometimes  he  could 
not  remember  how  many  gentlemen  there 
were  in  a  family. 

There  was  something  worse  than  all 
this.  He  could  not  fail  to  perceive,  in 
spite  of  the  usual  masculine  obtuseness  in 
such  matters,  that  he  was  no  longer  wel- 
come at  his  wife's  office.  She  received  him 
politely  but  coldly.  Then  she  ignored 
his  presence.  If  she  chanced  to  be  busy, 
she  at  once  became  very  busy — aggres- 
sively so,  in  fact.  If  idle,  she  immediately 
found  something  to  engross  her  attention. 


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A    TWENTIETH  CENTURY   WOMAN. 


In  anger,  one  day,  he  taunted  her  with 
it.  She  replied,  without  passion,  but  with 
cutting  coldness,  that  it  was  not  good  for 
business  to  have  one's  husband  sitting 
around  the  office;  that  women  did  not 
come  in  so  readily,  feeling  afraid  that 
something  might  be  overheard  and  re- 
peated. 

"You  have  a  young  gentleman  type- 
writer,' '  sneered  Mr.  Dawson. 

"That  is  different,"  said  his  wife, 
smiling  good-naturedly. 

So  the  two  years  had  gone  by.  Some 
things  had  improved;  others  had  grown 
worse.  Ill  health  and  the  narrow  world 
he  moved  in  seemed  to  have  affected  Mr. 
Dawson's  mind.  He  felt  that  his  wife 
neglected  him.  At  times  he  was  proud 
of  her  brilliant  success,  financial  and  po- 
litical; her  popularity,  her  beauty  and 
grace.  At  others  he  was  violently  jealous 
of — everything  and  everybody,  even  the 
young  man  who  musically  took  down  her 
thoughts  in  the  office. 

It  was  absurd,  of  course,  but  he  was  such 
a  beastly  good-looking  young  fool!    What 
business  had  he  to  put  fresh  flowers  in  her 
vase  every  day  ?     Mr.  Dawson  asked  her 
once  furiously  if  she  paid  him  for  that.    She 
looked  at  him  in  cold  displeasure.     Then 
she  left  the  house,  and  scarcely  spoke  to 
him  for  a  week.     At  the  end  of  the  week 
she   remembered   his   invalidism,  and  re- 
lented.     On  the  way  home  she  bought  a 
pretty  trifle,  a  jeweled  scarf-pin, 
and  gave  it  to  him  with  a  little 
show    of    affection.       He    was 
deeply  touched.  Then  she  really 
loved  him,  after  all! 

Thereafter  she  permitted  her- 
self to  become  angry  with  him 
more  readily.  The  temporary 
estrangement  furnished  a  rea- 
sonable excuse  to  spend  several 
nights  down  town  with  the  girls; 
and,  when  she  was  tired  of  it, 
she  had  only  to  carry  home  some 
pretty  jewel — and  peace  was 
restored.  Mr.  Dawson's  life 
was  becoming  such  a  narrow, 
walled-in  one  that  he  was  losing 
his  spirit. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  Mrs. 
Dawson  looked  at  him  angrily 
over  the  breakfast-table.  How- 
ever, she  made  no  answer  to  his 
unreasonable  complaint. 

"  Is  it  necessary  that  you 
should  make  so  many  trips  to 
Salem?"  he  asked,  presently.  u.   .   . 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  she  replied, 


coldly.  "Unless  you  wish  to  see  me  de- 
feated." 

"  And  is  it  necessary  that  you  should 
remain  out  until  one  or  two  o'clock  every 
night?" 

"  It  is."  Mrs.  Dawson  spoke  firmly  to 
convince  herself  as  well  as  her  husband. 
"  My  dear,  I  have  had  enough  of  this. 
You  were  pleased — I  repeat,  pleased — with 
the  idea  of  my  running  for  senator,  or  I 
should  not  have  accepted  the  nomination. 
Now,  already,  you  annoy  me  with  petty 
complaints  and  jealousies.  I  prefer  being 
at  home  with  you  and  the  children,  cer- 
tainly; but  I  cannot  neglect  my  business, 
or  we  should  soon  be  in  the  poor-house. 
Nor  can  I  make  anything  of  a  canvass 
without  spending  some  time  with  the 
girls." 

"And  money,"  sneered  Mr.  Dawson. 

"Yes,  and  money" — more  coldly. 
"  God  knows  I  do  not  enjoy  it;  my  tastes 
are  domestic." 

Mr.  Dawson  got  up  suddenly.  He 
lifted  his  chair,  and  set  it  down  with  a 
crash. 

"  Mrs.  Dawson,"  he  said,  "I  don't  care 
whether  you  make  a  good  canvass  or  a 
poor  one.  When  I  gave  my  consent  to 
our  going  into  this  thing,  I  supposed  you'd 
run  it  differently.  You  women  have  been 
talking  and  ranting  for  the  last  fifty  years 
about  the  way  you'd  purify  politics  when 
you  got  the  ballot — and  here  you  are  run- 


THK   CHILDREN    BROUGHT   IN    BY  THE   RESPECTFULLY  AMUSED 
NURSE.      .      .      ." 


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A    TWENTIETH  CENTURY  WOMAN. 


63 


ning  things  just  as  men  have  been  doing 
ever  since  the  United  States  were  born." 

44  Oh,  my  dear! "  interrupted  Mrs. 
Dawson,  with  a  little,  aggravating  laugh. 
44  That  is  wrong,  isn't  it  ?  was  born  would 
be  better.  Besides,  why  not  say  the  earth 
at  once?  " 

44  And  I  don't  care  if  you  are  defeated! 
I'm  tired  of  being  cooped  up  here  with 
a  lot  of  children  and  servants!  Ordering 
puddings,  and  leaving  cards  on  fools  be- 
cause you  happen  to  know  their  wives  in  a 
business  way,  and  doctoring  measles  and 
mumps!  And  you  down  town  canvassing 
with  the  girls!  What  a  home,  where  the 
wife  only  comes  to  eat!  " 

Mrs.  Dawson  arose  silently  and,  putting 
on  her  hat  in  the  hall,  left  the  house.  She 
was  furious.  Her  face  was  very  white. 
She  shook  with  passion.  What  a  life! 
What  a  home!  What  a  husband  for  a 
rising  woman  to  have  dragging  her  down! 
Not  even  willing  to  help  her  socially! 
Why,  it  had  been  only  two  years,  and  here 
he  was  sunk  to  the  shoulders  in  the  narrow 
groove  it  had  taken  women  centuries  to 
struggle  out  of!  Had  she  ever  been 
proud  of  him  ?  Impossible!  He  was  un- 
just, contemptible,  mean!  Why — why — 
could  he  not  be  like  John  Darrach  ?  There 
was  a  man,  strong,  fearless,  a  politician. 
He  had  not  lost  his  grip.  If  she  won,  it 
would  be  because  of  his  earnest  support. 

She  went  into  her  private  office,  and  laid 
her  head  upon  her  desk  and  wept  passion- 
ately. 

Presently  a  knock  came  upon  the  door. 
She  did  not  hear.  The  door  opened,  but 
she  did  not  hear  that  either.  But  she  felt 
a  hand  close  firmly  around  her  wrist;  and 
then  she  heard  a  voice  say,  "Why,  what 
does  this  mean  ?" 

She  lifted  her  head,  and  looked  through 
her  tears  into  John  Darrach's  eyes. 

There  was  unmistakable  tenderness  in 
the  look  and  in  the  pressure  of  his  strong 
fingers.  A  warm  color  flamed  over  her 
face  and  throat.  She  controlled  her  feel- 
ing and  smiled  through  her  tears,  slowly 
drawing  her  arm  from  his  clasp. 

44  Forgive  me,"  he  said,  instantly,  re- 
turning to  his  usual  manner  toward  her. 
44  When  I  saw  you  were  in  trouble,  I — 
forgot." 

44  It  is  nothing,"  she  said,  with  an  exag- 
gerated cheerfulness.  **Only,  sometimes 
I  fear  this  campaign  is  making  me  ner- 
vous. I  hate  nervous  people,"  she  added 
passionately. 

"  My  carriage  is  at  the  door,"  said 
Darrach.     He  looked  away  from  her  with 


a  visible  effort.  *4  Shall  we  drive  out  to 
see  that  piece  of  property  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed;  I  had  forgotten  that. 
How  good  of  you  to  always  remind  me! 
I  am  afraid  I  depend  upon  you  too  much." 

44  Not  as  much  as  I  wish,"  he  answered 
her  in  a  low  voice.  He  stood  holding  the 
door  open  while  she  rapidly  drew  on  her 
gloves.  Then  seeing  the  color  coming  to 
her  face  again,  he  added,  grimly:  44 1  must 
earn  my  salary  as  your  attorney,  you 
know." 

That  was  a  delightful  morning.  The 
road  ran  along  the  Willamette  from  Port- 
land to  Vancouver.  The  perfect  blue  of 
an  Oregon  sky  bent  softly  over  them. 
The  long,  silver  curves  of  the  slow-moving 
river  wound  before  them.  There  were 
green  fields  and  bits  of  emerald  wood 
and  picturesque  islands.  Farther  away 
were  the  heavily  timbered  hills,  purple  in 
the  distance;  and  grand  and  white  and 
glistening  against  the  sky  were  the  superb 
snow  mountains,  majestic  in  their  far  lone- 
liness. 

The  air  was  fragrant  with  wild  syringa, 
which  grew  by  the  roadside,  flinging  long, 
slender  sprays  of  white,  gold-hearted 
flowers  in  all  direction's.  The  soft,  caress- 
ing winds  let  free  about  them  a  breath 
from  the  far  ocean. 

Mrs.  Dawson  leaned  back  in  the  car- 
riage and  forgot  domestic  cares — forgot 
ill  -  bred  servants  and  over  -  done  roasts, 
shabbily  dressed  children  and  an  unreason- 
able, fault-finding  husband.  She  loved  the 
soft  sway  of  the  carriage,  the  spirited 
music  of  the  horses'  feet  on  the  hard  road, 
the  sensuous,  compelling  caresses  of  the 
wind  on  her  face  and  throat. 

Darrach  stopped  the  horses  in  a  shady 
spot. 

44  We  must  have  some  of  this  syringa," 
he  said,  putting  the  reins  in  her  hands. 
He  broke  a  great  armful,  snapping  the 
stems  almost  roughly.  He  bore  them  to 
the  carriage,  and  piled  them  upon  her 
knees  until  they  covered  her  bosom  and 
shoulders  with  their  snowy  drifts — some 
of  the  scented  sprays  curling  even  about 
her  throat  and  hair. 

44  Do  you  know,"  said  Darrach,  looking 
at  her,  44  these  cool,  white  sprays  always 
make  me  think  of  a  woman's  arms."  He 
reached  for  the  reins,  and  for  a  second  his 
hand  rested  upon  hers.  She  turned  very 
pale. 

44  By  the  way,"  said  Darrach,  instantly, 
in  a  light  tone,  44  is  the  canvass  going  on 
satisfactorily?" 

"  Not  quite  as  I  could  wish,"  she  replied. 


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64 


A    TWENTIETH  CENTURY  WOMAN. 


44  As  I  expected,  the  lower  classes  are  solid 
for — my  opponent.  It  is  a  bitter  thing  to 
run  against  such  a  woman.  It  will  be 
more  bitter  to  be  defeated  by  her." 

44  You  must  not  be." 

44  I  cannot  help  it.  How  can  I  get  such 
votes  ? " 

Darrach  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

44  Put  up  more  money,"  he  said,  coldly, 
but  in  a  low  tone. 

44  Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Dawson,  with  deep 
contempt.  44  It  is  dishonorable — disgust- 
ing! Sell  my  birthright  for  a  mess  of  pot- 
tage ?  " 

44  Nonsense,"  said  Darrach.  He  turned 
and  smiled  at  her.  "Am  I  to  be  disap- 
pointed in  you  ?  Have  I  not  guided  you 
with  a  careful  hand  through  dangers  and 
pitfalls  ?  Have  I  not  helped  you  to  suc- 
cess ?  It  is  wrong  to  spend  money  for 
such  a  purpose — I  confess  it,  of  course. 
We  want  all  that  changed.  We  can  change 
it  only  by  getting  good  women  into  power. 
We  can  get  them  into  power  only  through 
money.  We  must  ourselves  stoop  at 
first,  to  elevate  politics  eventually.  Mrs. 
Dawson,  you  owe  it  to  the  State — to  your 
country — you  owe  it  to  yourself — to  sacri- 
fice your  noble  principles  and  ideals  this 
time,  in  view  of  the  powerful  reform  you, 
and  such  women  as  you,  can  bring  about 
in  politics,  once  you  are  in  power." 

He  turned  the  horses  into  a  long,  locust- 
bordered  lane.  At  the  end  of  it  was  a 
large,  white  farm-house.  A  woman  sat  on 
the  front  steps.  She  was  tall  and  thin. 
Her  face  and  hands  were  wrinkled  and 
harsh.  Her  eyes  were  narrow  and  faded. 
Her  sandy  hair,  gray  in  places,  was 
brushed  straight  back  from  her  face,  and 
wound  in  a  knot  with  painful  tightness. 
She  sat  with  her  sharp  elbows  on  her  knees, 
her  chin  sunk  in  her  palms. 

She  arose  with  a  little  country  flurry  of 
embarrassment  at  their  approach.  She 
stood  awkwardly,  looking  at  them,  keep- 
ing her  shabbily  clad  feet  well  under  her 
scant  skirt. 

44  Are  you  the  lady  who  wishes  to  bor- 
row money  on  a  farm  ?  "  asked  Darrach. 

44  Yes,"  she  said,  44 1  be."  She  did  not 
change  her  expression.  Her  only  emotion 
seemed  to  be  excessive  self-consciousness. 
She  put  her  hands  behind  her  to  feel  if 
her  apron-strings  were  tied.  Then  she 
rested  her  right  elbow  in  her  left  hand, 
and  began  to  smooth  her  hair  nervously 
with  her  right  hand.  44  Yes,  I  want  to 
git  $500  on  this  here  farm.  Land  knows 
it's  worth  twicet  thet." 

44  Yes,"  said  Darrach,  politely. 


44  It  is  too  bad  to  mortgage  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Dawson,  feeling  a  sudden  pity.  "  Is 
it  absolutely  necessary  ?  " 

44  Yes,"  said  the  woman,  closing  her 
thin  lips  together  firmly;  44  my  mind's 
set.  My  man's  one  o'  them  kind  o'  easy- 
goin's  thet  you  can't  never  git  worked  up 
to  the  pitch  o'  doin'  anythin'.  I'm  tired 
of  it.  We've  set  here  on  this  here  place 
sence  we  crossed  the  plains,  an'  we  ain't 
got  anythin'  but  land  an'  stawk  an'  farm 
machin'ry.  We  ain't  got  a  buggy,  ner  a 
drivin'  horse,  ner  a  side-saddle;  we  ain't 
got  'n  org'n,  ner  a  fiddle,  ner  so  much's  a 
sewin'-machine — an'  him  a-gettin'  new 
rakes,  an'  harrers,  an'  drills,  an'  things 
ev'ry  year,  all  of  'em  with  seats  to  ride  on. 
I  ain't  even  got  a  washin'-machine!  " 

"But  why  do  you  mortgage  your 
farm?"  asked  Mrs.  Dawson,  quietly. 

44  Because  I've  got  my  dose,"  said  the 
woman,  fiercely.  "The  place's  in  my 
name,  an'  now  thet  we've  got  our  rights, 
I'm  goin'  to  move  to  town.  I'll  show 
him!  I'll  git  a  job  's  street  commish'ner 
— er  somepin.  He  can  let  the  place  out  er 
run  it  hisself,  jist  's  he's  a  mind,  but  I'jj 
goin'  to  take  that  money  an'  hire  a  house 
'n  town  an'  buy  furniture.  My  mind's 
set.  I  didn't  sense  what  a  fool  I  be  tell 
we  got  our  rights.  If  he'd  a  half  give 
me  my  rights  afore,  I'd  give  him  his'n 
now;  but  I've  got  the  whip-hand,  an'  1 
guess  I'll  git  even.  He  never  even  let  me 
hev  the  hen  money — consarn  his  ugly 
picter!" 

44  Oh,  I  am  sure  it  is  wrong  to  mortgage 
your  farm,"  said  Mrs.  Dawson,  looking 
distressed.  "Your  husband  must  have 
trusted  you,  or  he  would  not  have  put  it  in 
your  name." 

The  woman  laughed  harshly,  but  with- 
out mirth. 

44  Oh,  I've  played  my  game  cute,"  she 
said.  "  I've  schemed  and  laid  low.  Back 
'n  Kanzus  we  hed  a  fine  place  out  'n  the 
rollin'  kentry,  all  'n  his  name,  an'  he  made 
me  sign  a  mortgage  on  't  to  buy  machin'ry 
with — said  he'd  leave  me  'f  I  didn't,  an' 
the  hull  place  went.  Mebbe  I  ain't  worked 
to  lay  his  sphish'uns,  though!  Mebbe  I 
ain't  laid  awake  nights  a-plannin'  to  git 
this  place  'n  my  name!  Mebbe  I  didn't 
git  it,  too!  " 

44  But  will  he  sign  the  mortgage?" 
asked  Darrach. 

44  He'll  hev  to."  She  spoke  with  some- 
thing like  a  snarL  "  If  he  don't — I'll  do 
what  he  threatened  me  with  back  *n  Kan- 
zus! I'll  leave  him!  "  Her  tone  was  ter- 
rible now. 


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A    TWENTIETH  CENTURY  WOMAN. 


65 


"Let  us  go,"  said  Mrs    Dawson,  turn-    color    mounted    into    his    face.       "  Oh,   I 
ing  a  pale  face  to  Darrach.  didn't  mean   Dawson.      I  was  still  think- 

He  made  an  appointment  to  meet  the    ing  of  that  woman's   husband."     But  he 
woman  in   town.      Then  they  returned  to    was  trembling  under  strength  of  the  feel- 
the  carriage.       Looking  back,    they  saw    ing  he  was  endeavoring  to  control, 
that  she  had  "  We 

reseated  her- 
s e  1  f  in  the 
same  listless 
attitude  on 
the  steps,  her 
chin  sunken 
in  her  hand, 
wa  t  c  h  i  n  g 
them  with 
those  dull, 
narrow  eyes. 

Darrach 
sent  the 
horses  down 
the  lane  at  a 
lively  pace. 
Mrs.  Dawson 
sat  erect. 
Her  face  was 
paleand  trou- 
bled. 

"Well, 
that's  awful, 
isn't  it?"  said 
Darrach, 
cheerfully. 
44  It  makes  me 
suspect  that 
this  suffrage 
business  isn't 
all  it  is  rep- 
resented to 
be." 

"  Oh,  it  is  terrible,"  said  Mrs.  Dawson, 
earnestly.     "  That  a  woman  should  have 


*SHE  SEATED  HERSELF  AT  THE    BREAKFAST  TABLE, 
PAPER,      ..." 


AND   OPENED   THE    MORNING 


must 
hasten,"  said 
she,  "or  I 
shall  be  too 
late  for  the 
Salem  train." 

Once  on  the 
train,  Mrs. 
Dawson  had 
three  hours  of 
hard  and  bit- 
ter reflection. 
There  are  cer- 
tain crises  in 
the  lives  of  all 
of  us  when  a 
word,  a  look, 
a  gesture,  is 
sufficient  to 
awaken  us  to 
a  full  realiza- 
tion of  some 
wrong  that  we 
have  been 
committing 
with  shut  eyes 
and  dulled 
conscience. 
Mrs.  Dawson 
had  reached 
the  crisis  in 
her  life.  Her 
awakening 
;    but   it    was 


such  a  feeling" — she  pressed  her  hands 
together  upon  her  knees — "  I  cannot  help 
feeling  sorry  for  her.  She  is  wrong,  all 
wrong,  now;  yet  I  think  I  understand 
what  a  miserable,  starved  life  she  has  had. 
I  believe  that  the  hearts  of  millions  of 
women  would  have  leaped  could  they  have 
heard  those  words:  '  If  he'd  a  half  given 
me  my  rights  before! '  You  men  have 
been  wrong;  you  have  not  been  wise. 
You  brought  this  revolution  on  your  own 
heads.  Why,  what  can  one  expect  of 
the  kind  of  man  that  woman's  husband 
must  be,  when  my  own  husband — a  man 
of  refinement  and  culture — treated  me  like 
a  dependent  in  money  matters  ? 


was   sudden   and   complete 
crushing. 

She  sat  with  her  burning  cheek  in  her 
hand,  looking  out  the  window.  She  saw 
nothing — neither  wide  green  fields,  nor 
peaceful  village,  nor  silver,  winding  river. 
The  events  of  the  past  two  years  were 
marching,  panorama-wise,  before  her  ach- 
ing eyes.  Her  heart  beat  painfully  under 
its  burden  of  self-accusation.  Oh,  blind, 
foolish,  wicked! 

She  did  not  care  for  Darrach.  He  was 
an  attentive,  congenial  companion;  that 
was  all.  But  how  wrong,  how  loathsome, 
now  seemed  her  association  with  him! 

She  felt  a  great  choke  coming  into  her 
throat.  She  detested  her  campaign,  wo- 
man suffrage,  and,  most  of  all,  herself  as 


The     beast!  "     said     Darrach.       She  she  had  been  in  these  two  years. 

turned  a   white,  startled   face  upon  him.  Suddenly  she  sat  erect.     "  I  will  give  it 

•*  What  ?  "  she  stammered.  all  up,"  she  said.     "  I  will  go  back  to  my 

He  laughed  instantly,  although  a  thick  husband  and 


m*  ^iigfeb/^b^gPe1 


66 


A    TWENTIETH  CENTURY  WOMAN. 


have  wandered — oh,  God,  how  far!    Other 
women  may  do  as   they   choose — I   shall 
make  a  home  again,  and  stay  therein.     I 
believe  active  life   will    restore   my   hus- 
band's health.     We  will  try  all  over  again 
to   forget,    and 
just  be  happy. 
Oh,  I  have  been 
walking  in    my 
sleep     for    two 
years !     I   have 
awakened — in 
time,    thank 
God!     Every 
act,    al  most 
every    thought, 
of  these  two 
years   is   loath- 
some to  me  now. 
But    I    shall 
atone.     I   shall 
make  my    hus- 
band    and    my 
children     hap- 

py" 

Mr.  Dawson 
had  spent  a 
wretched  day. 
Upon  reflec- 
tion, he  was 
heartily 
ashamed  of  the 
way  he  had 
spoken  to  his 
wife.  Notwith- 
standing their 
deep    love    for 

each  other,  he  felt  that  they  were  grow- 
ing farther  apart  each  day.  He  blamed 
himself  bitterly.  He  even  thought  of  go- 
ing down  to  the  office  and  apologizing; 
but  he  remembered  that  she  was  going  to 
Salem. 

Mrs.  Dawson  returned  with  a  violent 
headache  and  fever.  She  had  had  a  chill 
on  the  train.  She  took  a  cab  and  drove 
straight  home.  Her  husband  opened  the 
door  for  her.  "  Dearest,"  he  said.  She 
threw  herself  upon  his  breast,  and  clung 
to  him  in  her  old  dependent,  girlish  way, 
that  was  indescribably  sweet  to  him. 

"  I  am  ill,  dear,"  she  sobbed,  "so  ill. 
And  oh,  I  am  so  tired  of  it  all!  I  have 
given  it  all  up.  I  don't  want  to  be  a  sen- 
ator, nor  a  business  woman,  nor  even  a 
progressive  woman;  I  just  want  to  be  your 
wife  again.  I  want  to  take  care  of  my 
children  and  my  home,  and  I  want  you  to 
be  a  man  again!  " 

"Why,  God  bless  my  soul!"  said  Mr. 
Dawson.       He  was  looking  down  at  the 


back  of  her  head  with  the  most  amazed 
eyes  imaginable. 

Mrs.  Dawson  went  to  bed  without  her 
dinner.  In  the  morning  the  doctor  came, 
and  said  it  was  typhoid  fever. 

It  was  six   weeks  before  Mrs.  Dawson 

was  able  to  go  about  the  house  and  to  hear 

orld.      Then,    one 

conveyed    to  her 

licacy  and  caution 

that  woman  suf- 

declared  unconsti- 

d  been  abolished. 

he  had  considered 

it    his   duty    to 

take  her  place, 

and  he  was  now 

running  for  the 

Senate. 

"  How  lovely 
of  you,  dear- 
est! "  she  said, 
with  a  sphinx- 
like smile. 

Then  she  in- 
quired for  Dar- 
rach. 

"  Oh,  he  went 
off  on  a  wild- 
goose  chase  to 
Australia  soon 
after  you  were 
taken  ill,"  said 
Dawson, lightly. 
"Oh,"  said 
Mrs.  Dawson. 
"And  my  type- 
writer ?     Is  he  still  with  you  ?  " 

44  Why — er — no,"  said  Dawson.  He 
looked  with  deep  attention  at  an  old  Chi- 
naman going  along  the  street  on  a  trot 
with  two  baskets  of  vegetables  dangling 
at  the  ends  of  a  pole  on  his  shoulder. 
44  The  fact  is — I  didn't  just  like  him.  He 
wasn't  competent.  1 — "  he  jingled  some 
coins  in  his  pocket — "  I  have  a  very  speedy 
young  woman — er — a  Miss  Standish." 
"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Dawson. 
When  Mr.  Dawson  started  for  the  office 
the  following  morning  his  wife  followed 
him  to  the  hall  door.  She  looked  charm- 
ing in  her  long,  soft  house-dress.  Her 
lovely  arms  shone  out  of  the  flowing 
sleeves.  Her  hair  was  parted  in  the  mid- 
dle, and  waved  daintily.  A  red  rose  glowed 
on  her  breast.  The  color  was  coming 
back  to  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  were 
bright. 

Her  husband  put  his  arm  around  her,  and 
drew  her  to  him  with  affection  and  satis- 
faction.    He  was  fully  restored  to  health, 
Digitized  by  VjOOQlC 


HE  WAS  NO   LONGER   WELCOME   AT   HIS   WIFE  S   OFFICE. 


A   FRENCH  CRITIC'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


67 


and  thoroughly  pleased  with  himself. 
Mrs.  Dawson  put  one  arm  around  his 
shoulder,  and  as  she  kissed  him,  with  the 
other  hand  deftly  extracted  the  morning 
paper  from  his  inside  pocket — at  the  same 
time  giving  him  a  most  charming  and  ador- 
able smile. 

Dawson's    countenance    fell.      But    he 
decided   instantly    not    to    remonstrate — 


this  time.  By  and  by,  when  she  was 
stronger. 

At  the  steps  he  paused  and  said,  lightly, 
"Oh,  I  forgot:  I'll  not  be  home  to  din- 
ner. Have  to  dine  with  some  of  the  boys 
at  the  club.  Infernal  nuisance,  this  cam- 
paign! M 

It  requires  so  many  exhausting  lessons 
to  teach  a  man  anything. 


A    FRENCH    CRITICS    IMPRESSIONS    OF    AMERICA. 

By  Ferdinand  BrunetiSre, 
Editor  of  the  '*  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes." 

NEW   YORK   AND   BALTIMORE.— AMERICAN    UNIVERSITIES.— AMERICAN 

CHARACTERISTICS. 


AJEW  YORK,  March  22d.— My  great- 
I  V  est  surprise  is  Ao  be  surprised  so 
little;  and  in  the  mila  atmosphere,  under 
a  brilliant  sun,  it  does  not  seem  to  me  that 
I  have  changed  climates. 

Nevertheless  I  am  in  America. 

But  what  can  you  expect  ?  My  eyes 
and  my  mind  are  so  fashioned  that  wher- 
ever I  have  journeyed  I  have  found  men 
more  like  each  other  than  their  vanity 
might  be  willing  to  admit;  and  doubtless 
that  is  not  a  favorable  temper  for  "  ob- 
serving/' but  who  knows  whether  it  be 
not  an  excellent  one  for  seeing  better? 
How  many  travelers  there  are  whose 
accounts  have  aroused  in  me  nothing  but 
a  great  astonishment  at  their  ingenuity! 
They  discover  differences  everywhere,  and 
to  my  eyes  these  differences  do  not  exist. 
Europeans  or  Americans,  yellow  men  or 
white,  Anglo-Saxons  or  Latins,  we  all 
have  specimens  at  home  of  all  the  vices; 
let  us  add  that  the  same  is  true  of  all  the 
qualities  and  virtues,  and  repeat  with  the 
poet: 

"  Humani  generis  mores  tibi  nosse  volenti \ 
Sufficit  una  domus.     .     .     ." 

I  am  walking  along  Fifth 
Avenue,  making  these  reflections  and  be- 
ginning to  fear  lest  a  spice  of  vexation 
at  not  possessing  a  more  traveled  soul 
may  creep  into  them,  when  it  suddenly 
occurs  to  me  that  this  avenue  is  very 
long.     I  also  perceive  that  all  the  streets 


cross  each  other  at  right  angles,  and  that, 
motley  as  the  crowd  may  be  which  fills 
them  with  commotion,  numerous  as  are 
the  car  lines  by  which  they  are  furrowed, 
unlike  and  sumptuous  as  are  the  shops 
which  line  them,  the  impression  they  pro- 
duce is,  after  all,  a  trifle  monotonous. 
Fortunately,  some  tall  houses  come  to 
dispel  this  at  the  very  nick  of  time — very 
tali  houses,  of  from  twelve  to  fourteen 
stories;  cubical  houses  with  flat  roofs; 
pierced  with  innumerable  windows;  stone 
houses  whose  crude  whiteness  enlivens  at 
last  this  decoration  which  hitherto  has 
been  all  in  brick.  I  take  pains  to  note, 
then,  that  in  New  York  there  are  houses 
of  fourteen  stories,  and,  must  it  be  said  ? 
they  are  not  uglier  than  if  they  had  only 
fis^.  Where  is  it  that  I  have  seen  uglier 
ones,  not  so  tall,  but  in  the  same  style,  or 
the  same  taste,  which  proceeded  less  from 
the  art  of  Bramante  or  Palladio  than  from 
the  science  of  Eiffel  the  engineer  ?  Was  it 
not  perchance  at  Rome,  in  the  new  quar- 
ters ?  What  astonishes  me  most,  however, 
and  what  I  can  scarcely  account  for  to 
myself,  is  that,  positively,  these  enormous 
houses  do  not  seem  to  be  embedded  in  the 
ground;  one  would  say  they  were  placed 
upon  its  surface. 

I  go  on  to  the  right,  and  the  aspect  of  the 
scene  has  suddenly  changed.  The  flooring 
of  an  aerial  railway,  supported  by  enormous 
cast-iron  pillars,  has  robbed  me  of  sun- 
light,  and  the  trains  which  momentarily 


Editor's  Note.— The  author  of  this  paper,  M.  Brunetiere,  besides  being  the  editor  of  one  of  the  most  important 
periodicals  in  the  world,  is,  perhaps,  the  foremost  of  living  French  critics.  In  it  and  two  that  are  to  follow  (one  in 
December  and  one  in  January)  is  collected  whatever  has  particular  interest  for  American  readers  in  a  series  which  M. 
Brunetiere  is  now  publishing  in  his  own  magazine,  the  "  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes." 


1  senes  wmcn  m. 

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68 


A   FRENCH  CRITIC'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


succeed  each  other  make  a  deafening 
racket  over  my  head.  Now  the  streets 
are.  lined  with  popular  shops,  saloons, 
oyster  houses,  and  also  with  boot-blacks. 
Pedlars  of  Italian  aspect  offer  me  bananas, 
oranges,  apples,  and  sticks  of  marshmal- 
low.  These  are  no  longer  the  smells  of 
Paris,  but  those  of  Marseilles  and  Genoa; 
in  fact,  they  make  me  remember  that  I  am 
in  a  maritime  city.  Did  I  say  in  a  mari- 
time city  ?  I  should  have  said  in  an 
island,  where  I  ought  to  have  found  it 
quite  natural  that  the  manners  and  insti- 
tutions should  be  "  floating  "  (it  is  the 
remark  of  an  ancient  who  had  not  seen 
America),  and  that  the  very  houses  should 
not  yet  succeed  in  "  fixing  themselves." 
A  great  maritime  city  always  has  a  little 
the  air  of  having  been  born  yesterday;  its 
monuments  can  be  counted ;  and  how  often 
I  have  been  surprised  that  of  all  our 
French  cities  the  most  ancient,  the  one 
that  existed  before  there  was  a  France, 
and  even  before  Gaul  had  a  name — I  mean 
Marseilles — should  also  be  one  of  the  most 
modern,  where  one  finds  least  of  the  his- 
torical and  detects  the  least  of  what  is  past. 
.  .  .  There  are  from  sixty  to  eighty 
thousand  Italians  at  Marseilles,  and  for- 
merly there  were  many  Greeks  and  Levan- 
tines; this  doubtless  gave  it  the  cosmopoli- 
tan aspect.  Here  at  New  York  there  are 
from  four  hundred  to  five  hundred  thou- 
sand Germans,  and  how  many  Irish  ?  To 
say  nothing  of  Italians,  French,  Greeks, 
Chinese,  Japanese,  etc.  I  am  not  surprised 
that  all  this  makes  a  mixture,  a  medley  in 
which  one  would  be  troubled  to  find  any- 
thing very  "  American."  The  business 
streets,  Twenty-third,  Fourteenth,  Broad- 
way, are  filled  with  a  crowd,  neither  very 
noisy  nor  very  bustling;  numerous  loiterers 
are  seated  on  benches  in  the  squares — a 
great  "cosmopolitan"  city;  a  very  large 
city  ;  a  gigantic  city  ;  where  I  seem  to 
recognize  some  traits  of  Paris  and  Mar- 
seilles, of  Genoa,  Antwerp,  and  Amster- 
dam; where  certain  slight  differences,  sus- 
pected rather  than  felt,  fancied  rather  than 
experienced,  indefinable  for  the  moment, 
melt  and  are  effaced  in  the  multiplicity  of 
resemblances  and  analogies:  such  did  New 
York  appear  to  me  at  first.  And  also  as  an 
"  amusing"  city,  since  1  had  been  walking 
in  it  for  four  hours  without  either  my  curi- 
osity or  my  legs  having  grown  weary  of  it. 

IMPRESSIONS    OF    1UI.TIMORK. 

Baltimore,   March    24th. — I    have    "de- 
scended," but  only  to   "mount"   at  once 


to  the  sixth  or  seventh  story  in  a  fine 
hotel,  entirely  new,  and  in  which  there  is 
nothing  "  American,"  or  at  least  more 
"  American  "  than  in  any  other  hotel,  un- 
less its  being  admirably  kept.  I  cannot 
refrain  from  noting  that  in  a  city  where 
the  negro  population  is  not  less  than  sev- 
enty or  eighty  thousand  souls,  the  hotel 
service  is  performed  exclusively  by  whites. 
Strange  fatality!  All  other  travelers  have 
lodged  in  extraordinary  hotels.  They 
were  inundated  with  electric  light!  They 
were  drenched  with  ice  water!  They 
could  not  make  a  step  nor  even  a  gesture, 
without  setting  in  motion  all  sorts  of  very 
complicated  machinery  or  mobilizing  a 
whole  army  of  negroes.  Not  one  of  these 
favors  has  yet  fallen  to  my  lot. 

.  .  .  If  one  excepts  five  or  six  larg*» 
streets,  Baltimore  does  not  seem  to  be 
very  animated,  or,  above  all,  very  busy — 1 
just  now  had  to  consult  my  guide-book  to 
assure  myself  that  it  contains  four  or  five 
hundred  thousand  souls.  Have  the  taler- 
of  travelers  positively  misled  me  concern- 
ing the  activity  of  Americans  ?  What  sort 
of  epicurean  or  dilettante  existence  can 
they  have  led  in  Europe  who  find  that 
people  live  so  fast  here,  or  even  in  New 
York?  Or  rather — and  it  is  this  doubt- 
less which  is  more  probable — are  there  not 
two,  three,  four  Americas,  of  which  it 
would  be  wrong  to  be  unwilling  to  sec 
only  one  ?  I  shall  not  see  Chicago,  or  St. 
Louis,  or  San  Francisco,  or  even  New 
Orleans;  but  here,  in  the  Eastern  States, 
1  do  not  find  myself  at  all  perplexed,  and 
the  reason  appears  to  me  very  simple. 
The  habits  of  European  civilization  are 
daily  becoming  the  foundation  of  Ameri- 
can, and,  reciprocally,  if  America  makes 
an  improvement  in  these  habits,  we  hasten 
to  adopt  it  in  Europe. 

For  instance,  these  interminable  streets 
crossing  each  other  at  right  angles  are  mo- 
notonous; the  picturesque,  the  unexpected, 
the  variety  of  perspectives  is  absent. 
But  has  not  this  rectilinear  ideal  become 
ours  also  within  the  last  half  century 
and  in  the  name  of  science  and  hygiene  ? 
Here,  moreover,  much  more  than  in  New 
York,  where  all  the  houses  in  a  locality  re- 
semble each  other,  the  diversity  of  archi- 
tecture puts  an  element  of  gaiety  into  the 
monotony  of  the  street.  A  touch  of  even- 
style  blends  into  a  disorder  which  amuses 
the  eyes.  The  brick  is  less  somber,  newer, 
and  of  a  more  vivid  red ;  clambering  green- 
ery and  the  whiteness  of  marble  steps  at- 
tenuate its  crudity.  Stone  alternates  with 
brick.      Here  are  houses  of  "colonial" 


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A  FRENCH  CRITIC'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


69 


aspect,  one  especially  which  is  unfailingly 
pointed  out  to  Frenchmen — the  old  Patter- 
son house,  where  that  young  prodigal  of  a 
Jerdme  Bonaparte,  as  his  great  brother 
styled  him,  married  Miss  Elizabeth  Patter- 
son.    .     . 

The  general  impression  of  Baltimore  was 
very  well  rendered  by  Mr.  George  Cable, 
when  he  said  that  its  "aspect  is  quite 
meridional."  And  when  he  was  asked  to 
explain  himself  more  fully,  he  insisted  on 
the  air  of  ease  and  the  agreeable,  non- 
chalant bearing  of  the  promenaders  in  the 
streets — a  city  of  leisure,  a  city  of  "  resi- 
dences," where  the  negro  looks  happy  and 
the  negro  girls  still  more  so.     .     .     . 

Nevertheless,  I  must  think  about  my 
first  lecture.     .     .     . 

March  25th. — My  eyes  wander  over  my 
audience,  ascertaining  in  the  first  place  that 
the  students  of  the  Johns  Hopkins  Univer- 
sity, more  courteous  than  our  own,  have 
not  excluded  women  from  these  lectures. 
Doubtless  they  do  not  believe  in  Balti- 
more that  the  words  of  a  professor  are 
the  exclusive  property  of  male  students, 
or  that  these  words  must  necessarily  be 
empty  or  superficial  if  women  comprehend 
them.  Neither  do  they  believe,  and  I 
make  the  remark  with  singular  pleasure, 
that  the  instruction  given  in  a  Protestant 
university  should  be  interdicted  to  Catho- 
lic seminarians. 

It  is  a  short  history  of  French  poetry 
which  I  have  promised  to  condense  into 
nine  lectures,  and  during  the  three  months 
in  which  I  have  been  thinking  of  my  sub- 
ject I  have  learned  a  good  deal  myself. 
Hence  I  have  decided  that  it  is  especially 
necessary  to  avoid  taking  a  purely  French 
point  of  view,  which  evidently  could  not 
be  that  of  either  Englishmen  or  Ameri- 
cans. Something  of  Shakespeare,  of  Shel- 
ley, always  escapes  us;  and,  similarly, 
foreigners  will  never  relish  what  we  find 
particularly  exquisite  in  Racine  or  Andr6 
Ch£nier.  Consideration  of  form  or  of 
pure  art,  which  I  might  be  tempted  to 
put  in  the  first  rank  if  I  were  speaking  in 
France,  I  relegate  here  to  the  second,  and 
there  results  an  arrangement  or  disposition 
of  the  subject  which  I  confess  I  did  not 
expect.  Imperfect  as  are  our  Chansons  de 
gestes  and  our  Romans  de  la  Table  Rondey  I 
find  it  impossible  not  to  give  them  in  these 
lectures  a  place  which  answers  to  the  ex- 
tended influence  which  they  once  exerted 
in  European  literature  and  which  they  still 
exert.  And  where  in  the  world  should  I  feel 
myself  more  strattly  obliged  to  this  than 
here,  where  the  sovereignly  noble  'poet  of 


the  "  Idyls  of  the  King  "  has  doubtless  no 
fewer  admirers  than  in  England,  and  where 
the  author' of  "Tristan  and  Iseult "  may 
have  more  than  in  Germany  ?  I  know  very 
well  that  the  invention  of  the  subject,  the 
theme,  is  of  small  moment;  and  I  remem- 
ber most  opportunely  that  no  one,  to  my 
knowledge,  has  shown  this  better  than 
Emerson  in  his  essay  on  Shakespeare. 
But  there  is  more  than  the  subject  in  our 
"  Heroic  Ballads  "  or  our  "  Romances  of 
the  Round  Table  " :  there  is  the  sentiment 
of  the  subject;  and  nothing,  to  tell  the 
truth,  is  lacking  to  them  but  the  sentiment 
of  form  and  art.  I  cannot  devote  less  than 
three  lectures  to  the  French  poetry  of  the 
Middle  Ages. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  there  should  be 
such  a  thing  as  French  classic  poetry,  we 
doubtless  find  it,  and  foreigners  can  hardly 
do  otherwise,  in  the  tragedies  of  Corneille 
and  Racine,  the  comedies  of  Molifere,  and 
the  fables  of  La  Fontaine  —  these  are 
really  our  poets  —  and  not,  I  imagine, 
Clement  Marot  or  Malherbe,  Jean  Bap- 
tiste  Rousseau  or  Voltaire.  Jean  Bapiiste 
is  only  a  declaimer,  and  the  other  three 
are  merely  excellent  prose  writers  who 
have  rhymed  their  prose.  I  would  still  be 
too  French — I  mean  too  narrowly  con- 
fined within  the  limits  of  our  national  taste 
— if  I  should  try  to  make  Americans  take 
Boileau  for  a  poet.  Nurtured  as  they  are 
in  Shakespeare,  I  fear  I  should  find  diffi- 
culty in  explaining  to  them  and  making 
them  understand  what  there  is  "poetic," 
in  the  absolute  sense  of  the  word,  in  Cor- 
neille's  tragedies  or  Moliere's  comedies. 
On  this  point,  therefore,  I  will  concentrate 
my  forces.  I  shall  bring  together  in  one 
lecture  all  that  has  been  attempted  among 
us  from  Ronsard  to  Malherbe,  and  I  will 
show  that,  as  all  these  efforts  had  no  other 
tendency,  even  in  poetry,  and  perhaps 
especially  there,  than  to  make  the  court 
and  the  social  spirit  predominate  over  the 
spirit  of  individualism,  this  could  only 
result  "poetically"  in  the  formation  of 
the  dramatic  style  on  the  ruins  of  the  lyric 
and  epic  styles.  I  will  then  endeavor  to 
show  what  the  pure  dramatic  style,  inde- 
pendent of  all  addition  or  mixture  of  lyri- 
cism, admits  of  in  the  way  of  true  "poetry." 
And  finally  from  Racine  to  the  other  Rous- 
seau, Jean  Jacques,  putting  together  all  of 
our  prosateurs  of  the  eighteenth  century 
who  fancied  they  were  poets,  I  will  point 
out  in  the  long  decline  of  our  dramatic 
poetry  and  the  corresponding  development 
of  individualism  the  near  revival  of  lyri- 
cism. 


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A  FRENCH  CRITICS  IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


But  how  am  I  to  divide  the  nineteenth 
century  in  its  turn  ?  And  here  in  Balti- 
more, the  city  of  which  Edgar  Poe  was  a 
native  and  where  he  rests,  shall  I  make 
the  concession  of  encouraging  the  sym- 
pathy I  am  told  they  feel  for  the  Baude- 
laires  and  the  Verlaines  ?  Heaven  for- 
bid! On  the  contrary,  what  I  have  said 
of  Verlaine  and  Baudelaire  in  France  I 
will  repeat,  merely  taking  account  of  the 
fact  that  in  the  conception  they  have 
formed  of  poetry  there  is  something 
vaguely  analogous  to  the  idea,  at  once 
mystic  and  sensual,  which  the  Anglo-Sax- 
on genius  seems  to  have  formed  of  it  now 
and  again.  And,  moreover,  as  this  idea 
has  been  developed  amongst  us  in  con- 
trast, or  even  in  declared  hostility,  to  the 
Parnassian  idea,  I  will  explain  what  has 
been  intended  by  the  poets  who  have  been 
designated  in  France  as  Parnassians.  And 
necessarily,  the  far  too  large  part  granted 
nowadays  to  romanticism,  in  the  move- 
ment of  the  times,  will  be  proportionately 
reduced.  All  Europe,  however,  has  had 
its  *•  Romanticists;  "  and  to  show  what 
analogy  Musset  bears  to  Byron  will  not 
require  a  long  discourse.  Besides,  what- 
ever one  may  think  respectively  of  the 
Pocmes  Barbares  or  the  Poltnes  Antiques  and 
the  L/gende  des  siecles,  there  are  at  least  as 
many  "novelties"  in  the  Parnassian  the- 
ory as  in  the  Romantic.  And  that  will 
answer  for  my  three  final  lectures,  in  the 
first  of  which  I  will  attempt  to  define  the 
romantic  movement  in  itself  and  in  rela- 
tion to  English  or  German  romanticism; 
in  the  second  I  will  show  how  and  why  the 
"  Parnassians"  have  so  far  differed  from 
the  "Romanticists"  as  to  become  their 
living  contradiction;  and,  finally,  in  the 
third,  I  will  connect  with  symbolism  the 
new  tendencies  I  think  I  discern  in  con- 
temporary poetry.     .     .     . 

HIGHER    EDUCATION    IN    FRANCE   AND   IN 
AMERICA. 

.  .  .  In  what  relates  to  the  organi- 
zation of  universities,  the  professors,  whose 
kindness  is  inexhaustible,  are  here  to  rectify 
or  redress  what,  without  them,  might  be 
superficial  or  erroneous  in  my  observation. 
It  is  by  the  aid  of  their  conversations  and 
their  publications  that  I  wish  to  say  a  few 
words  on  a  subject  which  has  its  impor- 
tance and  its  difficulties. 

Concerning  this  subject,  let  us  remem- 
ber, in  the  first  place,  that  institutions  of 
superior  instruction  are  not  all  of  the  same 
type   in   France,    whatever   the   Germans 


appear  to  think  about  it,  when  one  finds 
the  editors  of  their  Minerm  jumbling  in 
the  uniformity  of  one  continuous  enumera- 
tion the  Polytechnic  School,  the  University 
of  Paris,  and  the  Museum  of  Natural  His- 
tory. The  Museum  of  Natural  History, 
the  former  Jardin  du  Rot\  from  which  the 
great  name  of  Buffon  is  inseparable,  is  one 
of  the  very  rare  institutions  which  are  de- 
voted amongst  us  to  the  cult  of  pure  and 
disinterested  science.  No  examinations 
are  passed  there,  no  diplomas  or  certifi- 
cates are  conferred;  and  it  neither  con- 
ducts nor  leads  to  anything  but  an  ac- 
quaintance with  natural  history.  This  is 
also  the  originality  of  the  College  de 
France.  One  learns  nothing  immediately 
practical  there,  and  even  the  Chinese 
which  is  taught  is  not  the  Chinese  which  is 
spoken.  Our  universities  are  already 
more  "  utilitarian;  "  they  grant  diplomas, 
and  these  diplomas,  which  may  have  a 
great  scientific  value,  have  before  all  else 
a  state  valuation.  They  are  at  once — and 
this  is  their  great  vice — the  official  sanc- 
tion of  studies  and  a  title  to  a  career. 
Our  universities  form  lawyers,  physicians, 
and  professors,  and  it  is  all  the  better  if 
savants  or  learned  men  issue  from  them; 
but  thus  far  they  have  not  been  adapted 
for  that  purpose.  Finally,  the  great 
schools,  such  as  the  £cole polyteehnique  or 
the  £cole  Normale  SupMeure,  are  not, 
properly  speaking,  anything  but  profes- 
sional schools,  whose  first  object,  whose 
principal  object,  is  to  provide  for  the  re- 
cruiting of  certain  great  public  employ- 
ments, so  that  if  their  regulations  should 
be  heedlessly  altered,  the  quality  of  this 
recruitment  would  be  compromised  and 
the  entire  category  of  great  employments 
modified  in  its  foundations. 

There  are  likewise  different  types  of 
American  universities.  There  are  State 
universities — like  the  University  of  Vir- 
ginia, for  instance;  or  the  University  of 
Michigan  (Ann  Arbor) — which  are  inde- 
pendent, no  doubt,  in  the  sense  that  they 
manage  themselves  absolutely,  and  yet 
whose  independence  is  in  some  respect 
limited  by  the  grant  they  receive  from  the 
States.  Their  principal  obligations  are  to 
admit  to  the  .university  course,  without 
previous  examination,  pupils  who  come 
from  the  high  schools  of  Michigan  or  Vir- 
ginia, and  to  establish  alongside  of  their 
liberal  instruction,  technical  training — 
scientific  agriculture,  for  example  —  or 
legal  or  medical  courses. 

Other  universities,  generally  the  oldest 
ones,    like   Harvard,    1655;    Yale,     1701; 

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Columbia,  1754;  Princeton,  1757,  or, 
again,  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  are 
free  from  any  obligation  of  the  sort. 
They  began  as  simple  colleges,  such  as  we 
had  under  the  old  regime,  the  College  des 
GrassinSy  the  College  £  Har court y  the  Col- 
lege  des  Godrans  at  Dijon,  where  Bossuet 
and  the  great  Cond£  made  their  first 
studies,  and  if  I  make  these  comparisons, 
it  is  because  a  pious  intention,  a  sectarian 
intention,  if  I  may  say  so,  formerly  pre- 
sided in  America,  as  amongst  ourselves, 
at  the  foundation  of  these  establishments. 
Episcopalians,  Presbyterians,  baptists,  or 
Quakers  bore  their  first  expenses,  and 
some  traces  of  their  origin  may  still  be 
recognized.  .  .  •  Lastly,  of  the  other 
universities,  the  most  recent  are  perhaps 
in  certain  respects  the  most  interesting: 
these  are  Cornell  University  (Ithaca,  New 
York),  Johns  Hopkins  (Baltimore),  Leland 
Stanford  (California),  and  the  University 
of  Chicago.  They  owe  their  existence  to 
the  generosity  of  the  founder  whose  name 
they  bear,  and  under  the  supervision  of  an 
administrative  council,  a  board  of  trus- 
tees which  itself  depends  solely  on  the 
terras  of  a  will  or  a  donation,  they  are 
masters  of  their  budget,  of  the  matter  of 
their  instruction,  and  the  choice  of  their 
professors.  Why  should  I  conceal  the 
fact  that  in  writing  these  last  words  I  am 
thinking  of  our  own  universities,  which 
may  be  anything  you  please,  but  which 
will  not,  in  my  sense  of  the  word,  be  uni- 
versities really  worthy  of  that  name  so 
long  as  their  professors  are  appointed  by 
the  state,  and,  above  all,  so  long  as  the 
examinations  to  which  candidates  are  sub- 
jected are  state  examinations  whose  pro- 
gramme is  determined  by  the  state,  and 
whose  diplomas  constitute,  so  to  say,  state 
titles.  I  do  not  like  false  names  to  be 
given  to  things. 

JOHNS   HOPKINS   UNIVERSITY. 

The  Johns  Hopkins  University,  which  I 
naturally  take  as  a  type,  since  I  am 
speaking  there,  and  also  because  it  is  as 
yet  the  only  one  that  I  have  seen  for  my- 
self, has  existed  only  twenty-one  years, 
but  it  long  ago  attained  its  majority. 
When  Johns  Hopkins  died,  bequeathing  to 
Baltimore  34,000,000  francs  for  the  founda- 
tion of  a  hospital  and  a  university,  the 
friends  whom  he  had  charged  with  the  exe- 
cution of  his  last  will  did  not  waste  much 
time  in  long  discussions  over  what  con- 
cerned the  organization  of  the  university. 
They  went  to  the  remotest  part  of  Cali- 


fornia, where  for  three  years  he  had  been 
exercising  the  functions  of  president  of  a 
university, — in  France  we  would  say  of 
both  dean  and  rector, — to  look  for  a  former 
professor  of  Yale,  Mr.  Daniel  C.  Gilman, 
who  had  very  early  gained  a  great  reputa- 
tion in  America  as  an  administrator. 

With  the  correctness  of  eye  and  the 
rapidity  of  decision  which  are  his  charac- 
teristic traits  and  make  him  an  eminent 
man,  Mr.  Gilman  acknowledged  that  the 
occasion  was  unique.  He  saw  that  in  a  city 
like  Baltimore,  if  one  had  the  good  sense 
to  waste  nothing  on  the  empty  luxury  of 
buildings,  nor  on  the  petty  vanity  of  copy- 
ing Yale  or  Harvard  at  a  distance,  a  type 
of  university  such  as  America  had  never 
seen  might  be  realized,  and  he  set  to 
work.  Means  were  lacking  to  organize 
faculties  of  law,  medicine,  arid  theology; 
they  were  dispensed  with,  and  the  Johns 
Hopkins  University  was  composed  at  first 
of  nothing  but  a  faculty  of  philosophy; 
the  name  under  which,  in  the  United 
States  and  Germany,  is  included  what  we 
distinguish  into  faculties  of  literature  and 
science.  Ancient  languages  (that  is  to 
say,  Hebrew,  Sanscrit,  Greek,  and  Latin), 
modern  languages  (English,  German, 
French,  Italian,  Spanish),  history,  polit- 
ical economy,  philosophy,  on  one  hand; 
and  on  the  other,  mathematical  sciences, 
physics,  and  chemistry,  geology,  natural 
history,  biology,  pathology;  such  was  the 
programme  of  the  nascent  university. 
"Laboratories"  and  "  seminaries  "  were 
its  organs.  The  diffusion  of  "  methods  " 
promptly  became  its  object,  and  the  re- 
sults are  not  far  to  seek,  since  within  the 
twenty-one  years  of  its  existence  the  Johns 
Hopkins  University  has  given  not  less 
than  a  hundred  professors  to  the  other 
universities  of  America.  It  has  become  a 
sort  of  normal  school  where  the  personnel 
of  higher  instruction  is  recruited.  And  it 
is  a  proof,  if  one  were  needed,  that  di- 
plomas, titles,  and  grades,  under  the  regime 
of  liberty,  are  worth  not  at  all,  as  some 
suppose,  the  stamp  of  the  state  or  the 
notoriety  of  establishments,  but  precisely 
what  the  juries  which  deliver  them  are 
worth. 

It  is  also  a  proof  of  what  can  be  accom- 
plished by  the  activity  of  a  single  man,  for 
there  is  no  room  for  error,  and  I  am  sure 
that  not  one  of  the  professors  here  will 
accuse  mo  o£  exaggeration, — the  Johns 
AlMr.  Daniel  Gilman. 
itended  it  to  be; 
to  say  that  he 
great  body,  he 


72 


A   FRENCH  CRITIC'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


is  truly  its  soul.  It  would  be  impossible 
— how  shall  I  say  it  ? — not  to  conceal,  and 
still  less  to  dissimulate,  but  to  envelop 
under  a  more  seductive  affability  of  man- 
ners, more  of  character,  or  to  place  an 
ingenuity  of  resources  at  the  source  of  ideas 
more  precise,  more  settled,  or  more  ample. 
I  wish  I  could  reproduce  entirely  his  Open- 
ing Address,  delivered  nearly  four  years 
ago,  in  1893,  at  the  inauguration  of  the 
Congress  of  Superior  Instruction  at  Chi- 
cago. "  The  first  function  of  a  uni- 
versity," said  he,  "is  the  conservation  of 
knowledge;"  and  could  the  fact  that  the 
very  condition  of  scientific  progress  is  re- 
spect for  tradition  be  condensed  into  a 
better  phrase  ?  "  The  second  function  of 
a  university,"  Mr.  Gilman  went  on  to  say, 
"  is  to  extend  the  bounds  of  human  knowl- 
edge; "  and  it  is  the  fixity  of  this  ambition 
which  has  characterized  the  Johns  Hopkins 
among  all  the  other  American  universities. 
"  And  the  third  function  of  a  university," 
he  added,  "  is  to  disseminate  knowledge." 
And  truly  it  is  not  for  ourselves,  but  in 
order  to  transmit  them,  that  we  have  in- 
herited the  treasures  of  tradition  or  the  ac- 
quisitions of  experience — which  is  exactly 
what  they  are  seeking  to  do  here.  By  pub- 
lications, by  lectures,  by  review  and  maga- 
zine articles,  by  letters  to  the  daily  press, 
Mr.  Gilman  has  desired  the  Johns  Hopkins 
University  always  to  keep  in  touch  with 
public  opinion.  In  France  we  form  a 
more  mystical,  and  at  the  same  time  a  more 
practical,  notion  of  science;  more  "prac- 
tical" because  many  of  our  young  men 
see  little  in  it  but  a  matter  of  examina- 
tions or  an  occasion  of  diplomas;  and 
more  "  mystical  "  because  we  too  often 
affect  to  be  afraid  lest  we  should  vulgarize 
it  by  dissemination.     .     .     . 

THE    COMING    ARISTOCRACY    IN    AMERICA. 

.  .  .  And  if,  moreover,  I  have  thought 
I  ought  to  dwell  at  some  length  on  this 
question  of  the  American  universities,  it  is 
because  I  have  no  better  way  of  thanking 
them  for  their  welcome  than  to  do  my  best 
to  make  them  better  known  ;  and  also 
because,  from  all  that  I  see  and  hear  and 
read,  there  gradually  emerges  a  lesson  for 
ourselves.  Permit  me,  in  order  to  express 
myself  clearly,  to  use  a  barbarism,  and  to 
say  that,  by  means  of  these  great  univer- 
sities, much  of  America  is  in  the  way  of 
aristocratizing  itself.  While  in  France — 
what  with  our  "modern  education,"  the 
"specialization  of  our  sciences,"  "the 
spirit  of  regionalism"  with  which  we  are 


trying  to  inocculate  our  universities — we 
are  diminishing  the  part  of  general  instruc- 
tion, in  America,  on  the  contrary,  they  are 
seeking  to  extend,  to  increase,  and  to  con- 
solidate it.  While  we  are  insensibly  de- 
taching ourselves  from  our  traditions,  the 
Americans — who  are  inconsolable  for  not 
having  an  ancient  history — are  precisely 
essaying  to  attach  themselves  to  the  tra- 
ditions we  are  forsaking.  Of  all  that  we 
affect  to  consider  too  useless  or  superan- 
nuated of  the  history  of  Greek  institutions, 
or  the  examination  of  the  books  of  the  Old 
Testament,  they  are  composing  for  them- 
selves, as  one  might  say,  an  intellectual 
past.  And  if,  perhaps,  the  catalogues 
of  their  universities  do  not  keep  all  their 
promises,  which  is  often  the  case  with  our 
own,  that  is  unimportant.  The  function 
always  ends  by  creating  its  organ,  and  it 
is  tendencies  which  must  be  regarded. 
The  universitarian  tendencies  in  America 
are  on  the  way  to  constitute  an  aristocracy 
of  intelligence  in  that  great  democracy  ; 
and,  which  is  almost  ironical,  of  that  form 
of  intelligence  which  we  are  so  wrong- 
headed  and  stupid  as  to  dread  as  the  most 
hostile  to  the  progress  of  democracy. 

AMERICAN    COSMOPOLITANISM. 

April  4th. — .  .  .  Before  entering  on 
my  great  week,  and,  pending  eight  days,  of 
functioning  for  two  days,  one  at  Baltimore 
and  the  next  at  Bryn  Mawr,  I  would  like  to 
summarize  certain  reflections.  What  ren- 
ders this  difficult  is  that  with  what  there  is 
original  and  local  here,  and  of  which  I 
catch  a  glimpse  now  and  again  in  glance 
or  gesture,  there  is  always  blended,  as  in 
New  York,  a  substratum  of  cosmopolitan- 
ism. If,  having  taken  him  for  an  Ameri- 
can, or  at  least  an  Englishman,  I  wish  to 

make  a  little  portrait  of  Professor  A , 

I  am  informed  that  he  is  a  German;  it  was 
not  Germany  that  I  came  to  look  for  in 
America.  In  the  manner,  the  language, 
the  countenance  of  Mrs.  B ,  some- 
thing decided,  precise,  and  energetic  has 
struck  me,  but  it  appears  that  she  is  of 
French  extraction.  I  cannot  make  a  note 
of  what  seems  to  me  indigenous  in  the  man- 
ners of  Mr.  C if  he  spends  rather  more 

than  half  the  year  in  Europe,  at  Paris  or 
in  Switzerland.  Another  person  asks  me 
what  I  think  of  Baltimore;  I  tell  him;  we 
become  confidential;  we  chat;  I  question 
him;  he  answers  me;  it  was  a  Russian  ! 
There  are  Italians  also;  there  are  English; 
there  are  Israelites,  among  whom,  in  truth, 
I  am  puzzled  to  meet  an  American,  born 


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A   FRENCH  CRITIC'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


73 


in  America,  of  American  parents.  And 
have  I  not  heard  say  that  if  one  in  three 
of  the  seventeen  or  eighteen  hundred  thou- 
sand inhabitants  of  Chicago  were  born  on 
American  soil — not  merely  in  Chicago, 
nor  in  Illinois,  nor  in  the  Western  States, 
but  in  America — it  would  be  a  great  deal  ? 
Talk  after  that  of  the  characters  of  races  ! 
Not  to  mention  that  all,  or  nearly  all,  of 
them  have  traveled,  have  run  over  the 
world;  they  know  France  and  they  know 
Paris;  they  have  spent  months  or  years 
there;  they  know  Rome  and  Florence!  No, 
evidently  "race"  has  not  the  importance 
here  that  is  given  it,  any  more  than  it  has  in 
Europe;  or,  rather, — and  fYom  the  moment 
that  one  is  neither  Chinese,  negro,  nor  red- 
skin,— it  is  habitudes,  civilization,  history 
that  make  "races;"  and  in  our  modern 
world,  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  if  the 
economists  can  say  that  the  universal 
movement  tends  toward  the  "equaliza- 
tion of  fortunes,"  it  is  still  more  true  that 
it  tends  toward  the  effacement  of  all 
peculiarities  which  are  not  individual.  An 
Englishman  or  an  American  does  not 
greatly  differ,  as  such,  from  a  Frenchman 
or  a  German,  and  he  differs  only  by  hav- 
ing inherited  a  different  civilization;  and 
thanks  to  the  facility  of  communications 
and  exchanges,  the  development  of  indus- 
try, the  internationalism  of  science  and  the 
solidarity  of  interests,  these  very  differ- 
ences may  be  reduced  to  differences  of 
time  and  moment.  The  Americans  are 
younger  than  we  are,  and  that  is  evident 
first  of  all  in  their  curiosity  to  know  what 
we  think  about  them. 

AMERICAN    YOUTHFULNESS. 

They  are  also  less  "  complicated,"  and 
by  that  I  mean  that  they  show  what  they 
are  more  nafvely,  more  frankly,  more 
courageously  than  we  do.  Here  one  is 
what  he  is,  and  as  he  is  so  by  decision  or 
by  choice  he  shows  it.    .     .     . 

Nor  is  any  astonishment  felt  because 
women,  like  men,  have  their  clubs,  where 
they  meet  to  lunch,  to  talk  about  things 
that  interest  them — chiffons,  housekeep- 
ing, cooking — to  exchange  ideas,  and,  at 
a  pinch,  when  they  are  philosophers,  "to 
comment  on  the  Book  of  Job  considered 
as  an  example  of  the  miseries  of  human- 
ity." Here  all  this  appears  natural.  A 
woman  belongs  to  herself  in  the  first  place, 
and,  moreover,  it  is  not  required  of  her, 
as  it  is  among  us,  that  she  should  keep, 
so  to  say,  four  or  five  personages  together. 
She  is  not  compelled  by  prejudices  to  con- 


ceal her  aptitudes  or  disguise  her  tastes. 
She  has  the  right  to  herself,  and  she 
makes  use  of  it. 

No  doubt  there  is  some  relation  between 
this  liberty  to  be  oneself  and  certain 
independence  in  reference  to  "  airs,  waters, 
and  places,"  and  to  habitudes  which  in 
Europe  we  convert  into  so  many  fetters, 
generally  with  regard  to  physical  and  moral 
surroundings.  Omnia  mecum portoy  said  the 
sage  of  antiquity:  the  American  resembles 
this  sage.  Baltimore,  as  I  have  noted,  is 
a  city  of  residences,  a  city  where  the 
people  are  less  mobilizable.  They  do  not 
camp  out  here,  they  dwell;  the  very 
houses  look  as  if  they  were  bedded  more 
deeply  in  the  ground.  And  yet,  were  it 
necessary,  one  feels  absolutely  certain  that 
the  inhabitant  would  transport,  ought  I  to 
say  his  home  1  but  in  any  case  his  domicile, 
his  habitudes,  and  his  life  to  St.  Louis  or 
Chicago  more  easily  than  we  Frenchmen 
would  go  from  Paris  to  St.  Germain.  And 
the  reason  is  not  a  need  of  change,  an  im- 
patience of  remaining  in  the  same  place,  an 
inquietude,  an  agitation  which  is  unable  to 
settle  down,  but,  in  my  opinion,  the  confi- 
dence which  an  American  feels  of  being 
himself  wherever  he  goes.  The  personality 
of  a  true  American  is  interior.  He  is  at 
home  everywhere  because  he  is  everywhere 
himself.  The  displacement,  the  removal, 
which  helps  us  to  escape  ourselves,  gives 
him  the  sensation  of  his  identity.  Again 
a  proof  of  youth  and  force!  He  will  grow 
older;  I  hope  he  may,  since  he  desires  it; 
and  already  I  can  easily  understand  that  if 
I  should  penetrate  into  the  West,  every 
turn  of  the  wheels  would  carry  me  from 
an  older  to  a  newer  world.  But  mean- 
while, and  even  here  where  there  is  a  little 
history  in  the  atmosphere,  it  is  certainly 
that  which  distinguishes  them  from  us. 
They  are  younger;  and  is  not  that  precisely 
what  certain  observers  dislike  in  them  ? 

I  would  not  push  the  metaphor  too  far, 
and  I  do  not  care  to  report  all  my  impres- 
sions concerning  this  youthfulness  of  the 
American  people.  It  would  be  too  easy, 
and,  like  everything  which  is  so  easy,  more 
specious  than  correct.  An  Irishman,  a 
German,  brings  to  America  the  tempera- 
ment due  to  long  heredity.  But  the  very 
circumstances  into  which  he  is  plunged 
are  such  that  he  is  obliged  to  adapt  him- 
self to  them  promptly,  and  a  somewhat 
brutal  selection  quickly  eliminates  those 
whom  it  must  "  Americanize."  One  com- 
prehends that  this  is  because  they  have  a 
good  deal  of  pride  and  very  little  vanity. 
It  is  because  they  are  what  they  are.     A 


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74 


A  FRENCH  CRITIC'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA, 


German  priest  whom  I  did  not  know  ac- 
costed me  in  the  street  the  other  day  to 
complain  of  the  condition  of  American 
workingmen,  and  to  say,  in  substance, 
that  America,  no  more  than  Europe,  had 
solved  the  social  question.  I  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  believing  him.  But  he  forgot  two 
points;  namely,  that  competition  is  "the 
rule  of  the  game,"  so  to  say,  the  agree- 
ment which  a  man  signed  in  embarking  for 
America — I  might  almost  say  in  being  born 
here — and  he  also  forgot  that  this  competi- 
tion has  it  compensations.  The  distinc- 
tions which  establish  themselves  between 
men  here  are  real  and  solid;  they  do  not 
depend,  or,  at  any  rate,  they  depend  less 
than  in  Europe,  on  any  caprice  or  despot- 
ism. Assuredly  there  are  "  Colonial 
Dames,"  but  there  is  no  old  aristocracy. 
There  are  enormous  fortunes;  there  are  no 
"  governing  classes."  There  are  profes- 
sors, doctors,  lawyers;  there  are  no  "  lib- 
eral professions."  A  doctor  is  a  man  who 
attends  others  in  sickness,  and  an  uphol- 
sterer is  a  man  who  furnishes  other  men's 
houses.  A  rich  man  is  a  rich  man,  who 
can  do  a  great  deal  as  he  can  everywhere, 
but  who  can  do  only  what  his  money  can 
dOj  and  an  educated  man  is  measured  by 
the  idea  he  gives  of  his  merit.  From  this 
it  results  that  every  one  feels  himself  the 
sole  architect  of  his  own  fate,  the  artisan 
of  his  destiny,  and  generally  he  blames  no 
one  but  himself  for  his  failure.  .  .  . 
And  these  observations  are  in  the  wrong  by 
being  too  general  .  .  .  and  what  there 
is  true  in  them  will  be  modified  daily;  and 
in  a  fortnight,  in  a  month,  I  shall  no  longer 
recognize  them  myself.  But  if  I  record 
others  which  seem  to  contradict  them,  I 
have  an  idea  that  they  will  all  come  back 
to  this:  that  there  being  more  youth  in 
America,  the  civilization,  the  country,  the 
very  climate  being  newer,  one  breathes 
more  deeply,  one  moves  more  freely,  one 
lives  more  independently  than  elsewhere. 
It  is  a  privilege  of  age:  the  future  will 
tell  whether  it  can  be  transformed  into  a 
social  character,  and  what  American  experi- 
ence is  worth  as  gain  or  loss  to  ancient 
humanity. 

Bryn  Mawr,  April  8th. — One  could  not 
imagine  a  college  better  situated  than  that 


of  Bryn  Mawr,  in  the  open  country,  "on 
the  slope  of  a  verdant  hill," — of  several 
hills,  in  fact, — and  with  horizons  "  made  as 
one  would  have  them,  to  please  the  eye." 
The  vast  buildings  which  compose  it  give 
me  an  impression  of  solidity  which  I  have 
not  before  experienced.  This  year  the 
number  of  students  is  285,  and  not  a  hun- 
dred of  these,  I  am  told,  intend  to  teach. 
That  makes,  then,  in  one  establishment, 
more  than  200  young  girls  who  love  knowl- 
edge for  itself,  and  assuredly  it  is  not  I 
who  will  reproach  them  for  it.  "  Learn 
Latin,  Mesdemoiselles,  and,  in  spite  of  a 
certain  Moliere,  learn  Greek;  learn  it  for 
yourselves;  and  also  for  the  little  Euro- 
peans who  are  forgetting  it  every  day." 
But  I  will  explain  myself  on  that  point 
when  I  have  time.  For  the  moment  I  have 
duties  to  fulfill,  for  I  am  the  hero  of  a 
reception  in  the  "  American  style,"  which 
consists  in  being  introduced,  as  on  this 
evening,  to  two  or  three  hundred  persons, 
to  whose  obliging  compliments  one  tries 
to  respond  as  best  he  can  by  energetically 
shaking  their  hands.  However,  I  have 
been  practising  this  exercise  for  a  fort- 
night, and  I  take  pleasure  in  it  when,  in 
the  midst  of  this  march  past,  a  gentleman 
who  is  watching  me  bends  over  and  says 
in  my  ear:  "  Isn't  it  true  that  they  are  no 
uglier  than  if  they  did  something  else?" 
He  was  right!  and  I  thanked  him  for  hav- 
ing translated  my  thought  so  wittily. 
"They  are  not  uglier."  These  eyes  are 
not  dimmed  by  reading  Greek  or  even  He- 
brew, nor  have  they  lost  any  of  that  mock- 
ing lustre  which  one  loves  to  see  shining 
in  the  eyes  of  young  girls.  Nor  have 
these  faces  grown  pale,  nor  these  figures 
bent;  nor,  in  fine,  has  any  of  that  airy 
gaiety  disappeared  which  was  given  to 
women,  as  the  good  Bernardin  says,  "to 
enliven  the  sadness  of  man."     .     .     . 

Baltimore,  April  idlh.  —  I  have  just 
quitted  Baltimore,  and  I  own  it  was  not 
without  a  touch  of  melancholy.  Eighteen 
days,  that  is  very  short;  but  speaking  in 
public  establishes  so  many  ties,  and  so 
quickly,  between  an  audience  and  a  lec- 
turer, that  I  seem  to  be  leaving  a  beloved 
city.  To-morrow  I  shall  wake  up  in  Bos- 
ton. 


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W.  S.  Mallory.       Theodor*  Waters.  Thomas  A.  Edison. 


MK.    EDISON   AND   MR.   MALLORY   IN    FRONT   OP  THE   OFFICE   AT   ROISON. 

From  a  photograph  taken  for  MCCLURR'S  MAGAZINE  on  August  a6, 1807. 


EDISON'S   REVOLUTION    IN    IRON    MINING. 

By  Theodore  Waters. 
Illustrated  from  drawings  and  photographs  made  expressly  for  McClurr's  Magazine. 

MILLS  THAT  GRIND  UP  MOUNTAINS  AND  PICK  OUT  FROM  THE  HEAP  OF 
DUST  THE  SMALLEST  GRAIN  OF  IRON  ORE.  — A  NEW  APPLICATION  OF 
ELECTRICITY. 

Editor's  Note. — The  deposits  of  iron  ore  in  New  Jersey  are  sufficient  to  supply 
the  needs  of  the  United  States  for  half  a  century.  The  problem  that  Mr.  Edison 
undertook  to  solve  eight  years  ago  was  how  to  get  the  iron  ore  out  of  these  moun- 
tains of  rock.  Any  one  can  take  a  piece  of  magnetite,  pulverize  it  with  a  hammer, 
then  hold  a  little  magnet  over  it  and  draw  up  from  it  little  black  particles  which  are 
iron  ore,  leaving  the  sand  undisturbed.  But  to  be  of  practical  service  it  was  necessary 
to  do  this  on  a  scale  as  colossal  as  the  phenomena  of  nature.  Mountains  must  be 
reduced  to  dust,  and  the  iron  ore  in  this  dust  must  be  separated  from  four  or  five 
times  its  weight  of  sand,  and  then  this  iron-ore  dust  must  be  put  into  such  form  that 
it  could  be  shipped  and  smelted.  To  ship  dust  in  open  cars  would  involve  great 
waste,  and  the  dust  when  thrown  into  furnaces  would  choke  them,  or  it  would  be 
blown  out  by  the  tremendous  blast  of  air  necessary  in  smelting  and  so  be  wasted. 
Mr.  Edison,  therefore,  had  three  great  problems  to  solve.  He  has  constructed 
machinery  which  will  reduce  ten  tons  of  rock  to  dust  every  minute.  He  has  invented 
apparatus  whereby  the  particles  of  iron  ore  are  separated  from  this  dust;  and  after  six 
months  of  almost  hopeless  experimenting  he  has  been  able  to  compress  this  dust  into 

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EDISON'S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 


briquettes  which  are  thoroughly  porous  and  at  the  same  time  absolutely  waterproof. 
By  the  solution  of  tremendous  engineering  and  physical  problems  he  has  unlocked 
fabulous  sources  of  wealth  from  the  New  Jersey  mountains.  He  has  rendered  possible 
a  continuance  of  great  prosperity  to  the  blast-furnace  of  the  East.  He  has  laid  bare 
supplies  of  iron  ore  which,  before  many  years,  will  be  called  upon  to  supply  England's 
manufactories. 

This  article  explains  how  Mr.  Edison  achieved  the  inventions  which  solve  this 
immense  problem,  and  which  have  occupied  almost  exclusively  the  past  eight  years  of 
his  life  and  have  cost  several  million  dollars. 


NE  day,  about   six- 
teen    years     ago, 
while   Thomas   A. 
Edison  was  stroll- 
ing along  the  sea- 
shore at  a  point  on 
Long     Island,     he 
came   upon  a  pile 
of  sand  which  the 
breakers     had 
banked  high  up  on 
the  beach.     He 
stopped     and     re- 
garded it  with  curiosity,  for  it  was  different 
from  any  sand  he  had  ever  before  seen.    It 
was  black  sand.     He  delved  into  it  with 
both  hands,  allowed  it  to  run  through  his 
fingers,  and  even  tasted  it;  but  the  reason 
for  its  inky  hue  remained  hidden.     Then, 
with  the  zeal  of  the  scientific  investigator, 
he  took  some  of  the  sand  to  his  laboratory 
and  tested   it.     He  was  on   the  point  of 
putting  it   aside,    when    suddenly    he   be- 
came possessed  of  an  idea.     He  procured 
an   electro-magnet  and    held    it   near  the 
mass.     Immediately  the  material  became 
highly  affected.     Little  dark  grains  sepa- 
rated themselves  from  the  heap  and  scur- 
ried across,  like  so  many  black  ants,  to  the 
spot  over  which  the  magnet  was  held. 

The  little  ants  were  really  grains  of  iron 
ore  ;  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  Edison 
had  discovered  a  bed  of  finely  divided  iron 
ore  cast  up  by  the  sea.  The  black  sand 
covered  the  shore  in  spots  for  fifteen  miles 
along  the  coast.  It  was  due  to  the  erosion 
of  Connecticut  rocks  by  water,  magnetite 
being  one  of  the  constituents  of  the  primal 
rocks  found  in  Connecticut.  The  sea, 
constantly  eating  into  the  heart  of  the 
rocks,  had  carried  their  scattered  frag- 
ments across  the  Sound  and  cast  them  up 
on  the  Long  Island  shore.  With  his  in- 
ventive propensities  always  uppermost, 
there  entered  Mr.  Edison's  head  a  scheme 
of  conquest  such  as  had  not  before  been 
attempted.  He  calculated  that  the  de- 
posits must  contain  millions  of  tons  of 
iron,  which,  could  it  be  smelted,  would  be 
a  sure   relief   from   hard   conditions    then 


prevailing  in  the  Eastern  iron  market.  He 
worked  out  his  ideas,  and  evolved  his 
magnetic  ore-separating  machine,  which  he 
exhibited  at  the  last  Paris  Exposition. 
Then  he  let  out  the  privilege  of  using  it  to 
a  contractor,  who  set  up  a  plant  just  out 
of  reach  of  the  waves  and  proceeded  to 
separate  the  iron  ore  from  the  sand,  with 
every  prospect  of  developing  an  extensive 
industry.  But  the  sea  proved  to  be  less 
generous  than  it  at  first  promised  to  be; 
for  one  dark  night  there  came  a  storm 
such  as  had  not  visited  the  coast  in  many 
years,  and  when  the  contractor  came  to 
view  his  plant  the  next  morning  not  a  ves- 
tige of  black  sand  remained.  It  had  been 
all  swept  into  the  sea  whence  it  came. 
This  was  the  real  beginning  of  a  great  in- 
dustry. The  final  development  of  it,  how- 
ever, was  due  to  a  second  discovery,  quite 
as  unexpected  as  the  first.  For  some  years 
past  the  bulk  of  the  Bessemer-steel  trade 
had  been  drifting  westward,  by  reason  of 
the  discovery  and  opening  up  of  immense 
deposits  of  high-grade  ore  in  the  Upper 
Peninsula  of  Michigan,  suitable  for  making 
Bessemer  steel,  cheaply  produced,  and  car- 
ried at  small  cost  by  water  transportation  to 
furnaces  contiguous  to  the  lake  ports.  The 
furnaces  east  of  the  Alleghanies  were  com- 
pelled to  depend  on  a  few  small,  isolated 
deposits  of  Bessemer  ore  in  the  East  and 
ores  imported  from  foreign  countries. 
The  ore  deposits  of  the  Southern  States, 
as  well  as  the  magnetic  ores  of  New  Jer- 
sey and  New  York,  are  unsuitable  for 
making  Bessemer  steel. 

For  a  time  the  cost  of  the  ore  at  the  East- 
ern furnaces  was  not  greatly  different  from 
the  cost  in  the  Pittsburg  district;  but  in  the 
last  few  years  the  cost  of  foreign  ores, 
which  are  approaching  exhaustion,  has 
reached  the  prohibitory  point.  Then  the 
discovery  of  the  great  deposits  in  the 
Masaba  range  of  Minnesota  in  the  last  three 
years,  and  the  tremendous  cheapening  in 
the  cost  of  mining  and  transportation  of 
these  deposits,  have  apparently  raised  in- 
surmountable obstacles  in  the  way  of  the 
Eastern  iron  mills  meeting  the  competition 
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EDISON'S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 


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S*nd 


of  the  great  mills  of  the  central  West,  even 
in  the  Eastern  market,  and  many  mills  have 
ceased  to  operate.  The  condition  is  not 
a  trivial  one,  for  many  thousands  of  per- 
sons depend  upon  these  mills  and  furnaces 
for  a  living. 

Mr.  Edison  had  familiarized  himself  with 
these  changing  conditions 
and  become  impressed 
that  here  was  a  problem 
that  ought  to  be  solved, 
and  perhaps  could  be.  It 
occurred  to  him  to  inves- 
tigate the  mountain  re- 
gions of  New  Jersey, 
where  the  iron  mines  are 
situated,  with  the  idea 
that  there  might  be  some 
extensive  deposits  of  low- 
grade  magnetic  ore  not 
suitable  for  shipping  di- 
rect to  the  furnaces,  but 
from  which,  by  crushing, 
he  might  obtain  pure  ore 
of  high  grade  and  suitable 
for  steel-making.  Recon- 
structed a  very  sensitive 
magnetic  needle,  which 
would  dip  towards  the 
earth  whenever  brought 
over  a  large  body  of  mag- 
netic iron  ore.  What  fol- 
lowed is  best  reported  in 
his  own  words. 

**  One  of  my  laboratory 
men  and  myself,"  says  Mr.  Edison,"  visited 
nearly  all  the  mines  in  New  Jersey,  with- 
out finding  any  deposits  of  magnitude,  but 
the  extent  of  the  deposits  was  clearly  indi- 
cated by  the  needle.  One  day  we  were  driv- 
ing across  a  mountain  range  to  visit  an 
isolated  mine  shown  on  the  maps  of  the  geo- 
logical survey.  I  had  the  magnetic  instru- 
ment on  my  lap,  and  my  mind  was  drifting 
away  from  the  subject  in  hand,  when  I  no- 
ticed that  the  needle  was  strongly  attracted 
to  the  earth  and  remained  in  this  condition 
over  a  large  area.  I  thought  it  must  be  out 
of  order,  as  no  mines  were  known  to  be  any- 
where near  us.  We  were  riding  over  gneiss 
rock  at  the  time;  so  we  went  down  in  a  lime- 
stone valley,  where  magnetic  iron  seldom 
occurs,  but  we  found  the  needle  went  back 
to  zero;  it  was  correct.  As  we  returned 
and  traveled  over  an  immense  area  the  nee- 
dle continued  to  be  pulled  strongly  to  the 
earth;  our  amazement  grew  and  grew,  and 
I  asked,  at  last,  '  Can  this  whole  mountain 
be  underlaid  with  magnetic  iron  ore?'  If  so, 
then  I  knew,  if  the  grade  was  not  too  low, 
the  Eastern  ore  problem  might  be  solved. 


"  It  was  evident  from  the  movement  of 
the  needle  that  vast  bodies  of  magnetic 
ore,  or  rock  impregnated  with  ore,  lay  un- 
der our  feet. 

' '  I  thought  of  the  ill-favored  Long  Island 
enterprise,  and  I  knew  it  was  a  commercial 
question  to  solve  the  problem  of  the  pro- 
duction of  high-grade  Bes- 
semer   ore    in    unlimited 
quantities. 

"I  determined  to  find 
out  for  myself  the  exact 
extent  of  all  the  deposits. 
I  planned  a  great  mag- 
netic survey  of  the  East, 
and  it  remains,  I  believe, 
the  most  comprehensive 
of  its  kind  yet  performed. 
I  set  several  corps  of  men 
at  work  surveying  the 
whole  strip  from  Lower 
Canada  to  the  Great 
Smoky  Mountains  of 
North  Carolina.  We  used 
no  theodolite  or  other  in- 
struments generally  famil- 
iar to  the  civil  engineer. 
A  magnetic  needle  was  our 
eye — our  magnetic  eye,  so 
to  speak.  Starting  in 
Lower  Canada,   with  our 


C=:vho  &  £Jtu 


MK.  KDISON'S  DIAGRAM  (MADE  FOR  THIS 
ARTICLE)  SHOWING  THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  THE 
MAGNETIC    SEPARATOR. 


final  objective  point  in 
North  Carolina,  we  trav- 
eled across  our  line  of 
march  twenty-five  miles. 
Then  we  advanced  south  one  thousand 
feet;  then  back  across  the  line  of  march 
again  twenty-five  miles;  then  south  an- 
other thousand  feet,  and  so  on,  varying 
the  cross-country  marching  from  two  miles 
to  twenty-five,  depending  on  the  geologi- 
cal features  of  the  country,  as  we  went 
along.  We  kept  records  of  the  peculiar- 
ities of  the  invisible  mass  of  magnetite 
indicated  by  the  movements  of  our  needle, 
until,  when  we  finished,  we  knew  exactly 
what  State,  county,  or  district  had  the 
biggest  deposit;  how  wide,  how  long,  and 
approximately  how  deep  it  all  was. 

"  The  deposits  are  enormous.  In  3,000 
acres  immediately  surrounding  our  mills 
there  are  over  200,000,000  tons  of  low-grade 
ore;  and  I  have  16,000  acres  in  which  the 
deposit  is  proportionately  as  large.  The 
world's  annual  output  of  iron  ore  at  the 
present  time  does  not  reach  60,000,000 
tons,  and  the  annual  output  of  the  United 
States  is  about  15,000,000  tons;  so  that  in 
the  paltry  two  miles  square  surrounding  the 
village  of  Edison  there  is  enough  iron  ore 
in  the  rocks  to  keep  the  whole  world  sup- 

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EDISON'S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 


plied  for  one  year,  or  the  United  States  for 
three  years,  even  with  the  natural  increase 
in  demand.  Sixteen  thousand  acres,  or 
twenty-five  square  miles  of  land,  contain 
enough  iron  ore  to  keep  the  whole  world 
supplied  for  seventeen  years,  allowing,  of 
course,  for  all  natural  increase  of  demand 
due  to  the  needs  of  a  growing  population. 
These  acres  would  more  than  supply  the 
United  States  with  iron,  even  including 
necessary  exports,  for  the  next  seventy 
years  ;  and  they  contain  more  than  has 
been  mined  heretofore  in  this  country  since 
its  discovery." 

Here  was  a  remarkable  condition. 
Smelting  works  shutting  down  for  want  of 
iron  ore  at  low  prices  when  billions  of 
tons  of  it  lay  idle  in  a  strip  of  land  which 
in  most  places  was  within  seventy-five 
miles  of  the  great  iron  mills  of  the  Atlan- 
tic coast.  Mr.  Edison  saw  an  opportunity 
which  would  enable  him,  in  his  own  words, 
"  with  modern  methods  and  the  application 
of  modern  science  to  machinery,  to  trans- 
form a  product  having  no  natural  value 
into  a  product  when  mined  which  had  a 
spot  value  on  the  car."  The  idea  entailed 
no  child's  play  in  the  final  carrying  out. 
Unless  it  could  be  carried  out  on  a  gigan- 
tic scale,  it  practically  could  not  be  car- 
ried out  at  all.  To  make  the  separation 
of  this  finely  divided  oie  from  its  native 


rock  on  a  scale  equal  to  the  need,  the  only 
scale  commercially  possible,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  do  the  work  at  the  rate  of 
thousands  of  tons  daily.  This,  at  least, 
was  Mr.  Edison's  judgment,  and  the  com- 
prehensive mind  of  the  man  is  well  shown 
in  the  manner  in  which  he  planned  what 
has  now  developed  into  the  most  gigantic 
of  enterprises.  There  was  to  be  no  hurry, 
no  half-formed  ideas,  no  untimely  an- 
nouncement of  the  great  work  to  be  done. 
Every  cent  which  the  inventor  earned 
thereafter,  and  every  year  of  his  life,  if 
necessary,  were  to  be  utilized  in  carrying 
the  project  to  a  perfect  fulfillment.  Dis- 
couragements and  embarrassments  of  every 
nature  would  very  likely  be  encountered, 
but  these,  being  part  of  the  history  of 
every  great  achievement,  must  be  taken 
quite  as  a  matter  of  course.  For  them 
the  end,  fully  accomplished,  would  more 
than  compensate. 

So  while  the  public  perhaps  thought  Mr. 
Edison  to  be  resting  upon  the  laurels  won 
by  the  electric  light,  the  kinetoscope,  or 
the  phonograph,  his  mind  was  really  occu- 
pied with  a  busy  little  scene  on  a  mountain 
top  in  New  Jersey.  A  rude  little  building 
had  been  erected,  and  in  it  some  trusted 
employees  were  engaged  in  breaking 
pieces  of  the  rock  from  the  surrounding 
hills,  and,  by  the  use  of  small  electro-mag- 


THE   WILDERNESS  ABOUT   EDISON. 


Before  the  timber  bad  been  felled,  previous  to  the  blasting  and  steam -shore  ling. 

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EDISON'S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 


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THE  STRAM   SHOVEL   LAVING   BARE  THE   VEIN   OF  ORE-BEARING    ROCK. 

After  the  timber  has  been  felled  the  ground  is  surveyed  with  a  magnetic  needle.  The  concealed  ore-bearing  rock  is  then  staked  off.  The  shovel 
works  around  the  ledge,  cleaning  away  the  underbrush,  the  dirt,  and  the  clay.  Then  the  rock  is  blasted  Into  boulders.  The  shovel  picks  up  these 
boulders,  which  sometimes  weigh  as  much  as  six  tons,  and  loads  them  into  trays,  or  "  skips,"  resting  on  flat  cars.  The  cars  convey  the  rock  to  the 
crushing-plant.    This  shovel  is  the  biggest  in  the  world  ;  it  weighs  aoojno  pounds,  and  will  clear  away  rock  at  an  average  rate  often  tons  a  minute. 


nets,  sorting  out  the  iron  ore  which  these 
rocks  contained.  After  a  while  the  little 
building  lost  the  distinction  of  being  the 
only  house  so  occupied,  for  other  small 
buildings  were  erected;  and  then  a  steam 
plant  began  to  make  the  surrounding  hills 
echo  with  the  puff  of  its  engines  and  the 
continual  churning  sound  of  rock-crushers. 
Out  of  this  humble  beginning  has  grown 
the  present  great  establishment.  All  the 
original  machinery  has  now  disappeared; 
and  all  the  first  buildings,  except  one  small 
one  now  used  as  an  office,  have  been  torn 
down.  The  first  steam  plant  and  the  first 
crushers  have  proved  inadequate  to  the 
work. 

Mr.  Edison  had  planned  the  work  upon 
a  comprehensive  scale,  but  he  had  reck- 
oned upon  finding  equal  to  his  needs  crush- 
ing-machinery already  devised.  At  last, 
however,  the  conviction  forced  itself  upon 
him  that  he  must  invent  a  new  method  of 
extracting  the  ore  from  the  mountain-side; 
construct  crushing-machinery  larger  than 
had  ever  been  used  before;    introduce  a 


magnetic  separating  system  of  his  own; 
devise  some  way  of  cementing  the  iron 
dust  into  lumps,  so  that  it  could  be  used 
in  the  blast  furnace;  and,  altogether,  to 
re-create  the  entire  enterprise  on  a  plan 
even  more  gigantic  than  his  first  concep- 
tion. Engineers,  tried  engineers,  used  to 
large  operations,  smiled  incredulously. 
Some  of  them  spoke  of  the  enterprise  as 
Edison's  "hobby;"  others,  less  chari- 
table, called  it  his  "folly."  Those  of 
a  calculating  turn  of  mind  showed  him  on 
paper  that  no  machine  could  be  constructed 
powerful  enough  to  crush  successfully  five, 
six,  and  seven  ton  rocks;  or  if  such  a  ma- 
chine could  be  constructed,  that  it  would 
never  withstand  the  terrific  jar  which 
would  result.  This  particular  difficulty, 
it  may  be  said  in  passing,  Mr.  Edison  sur- 
mounted so  completely  that  less  than  one 
hundred  horse-power  is  required  to  reduce 
rocks  weighing  six  and  seven  tons  to  dust 
in  less  than  three  seconds  from  the  time 
they  are  thrown  into  the  crushing-machine. 
Other  difficulties  were  overcome  as  corn- 
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EDISON'S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 


pletely,  none  proving  too  much  for  Mr.  the  ore  from  the  sand;  magnetism  does  it 
Edison's  indomitable  will  and  rare  con-  all.  Except  for  the  elevators  which  raise 
centration  of  mind  and  energy.  the  ore   to   the  cupolas  of  the  buildings, 

Yet  what  Mr.  Edison  really  has  done  there  is  in  many  of  them  no  machinery; 
is  a  very  simple  matter;  simple,  that  is,  gravity  does  all  the  work.  In  fact  the 
in  its  entirety.  It  may  be  explained  in  a  whole  plant  is  a  wonderful  example  of  au- 
few  words.  Mr.  Edison  is  now  doing  on  tomatic  action.  Every  part  is  connected 
a  gigantic  scale  just  what  he  did  at  first  with  the  other  parts,  and  the  aggregate  is 
with  a  hammer  and  a  horse-shoe  magnet,  as  compact  and  as  self-sustaining  as  a 
He  is  crushing  rocks,  and  then  dropping  modern  rotary  printing-press,  and  is  even 
the  resulting  powder  past  powerful  electro-  less  dependent  on  human  agency  for  as- 
magnets.     The  saud  is  not  affected  by  the    sistance. 

magnetism  and  passes  straight  on;  the  iron  From  the  time  the  ore  is  blasted  with  its 
ore  is  attracted,  to  one  side  and  falls  in  a  native  rock  out  of  the  mountain-side  until 
heap  of  its  own.  This  is  the  whole  prin-  it  is  loaded  in  the  form  of  commercially 
ciple.  But  in  tlie  actual  working  out.it  pure  iron  briquettes  on  the  cars,  it  is  not 
becomes  one  of  the  most  tremendous  pro-  touched  by  human  hands.  -  The  never- 
cesses   in   the  world.      It  is,  afte  ever-resting  stream  of  mate- 

small  matter  to  crush  the  very  v  ly  circulates  through  the  vari- 

of  a  big  mountain  and  then  extrc  £s,     crushed    by    the    stored 

the  ore  from  millions,  of    tons   c  f  gigantic  rolls;  hoisted  sky- 

In   the  middle  distance  between  m;  pulled  earthward  Uy  grav- 

simple  experiment  and  the  practic  I  by  magnetism;  dried,  sifted, 

ing  plant  is  a  vast  region  full  of  e  ged,  conveyed;  changed  from 

detail,  commercial  reckoning,  and  t,  and  from  dust  into  compre- 

ical  devising,  dependent  on  the  difference  herisive  lumps,  mixed  with  a  due  propor- 
between  breaking  up  small-rocks  with  a  tion  of  adhesive  material;  chjrned,  baked, 
hammer  and  breaking  up  whole  mountains  counted,  and  sent  flying  to  the  furnaces  by 
with  heavy  machinery.  What  Mr.  Edison  fast  freight;  and  not  once  in  its  course  is 
has  done  has  been  to  subdue  to  his  service  it  arrested  or  jogged  onward  by  human 
three  great  natural  forces — momentum,  agency.  The  noise  of  the  crushing,  the 
magnetism,  and  gravity.  The  big  rocks  grind  of  the  machinery,  the  dust  and  the 
are  not,  strictly  speaking,  crushed  by  the  onrushing  stream  of  this  "most  precious 
direct  power  of  an  engine  or  dynamo;  metal"  and  its  by-product,  separate  the 
momentum  alone  turns  them  into  dust.  145  attendants  as  with  the  breadth  of  con- 
No  mechanism  assists  in  the  separation  of    tinents.     Yet  these  men,  merely  watchers 

to  see  that  all  goes  well,  are 
within  signal  distance  of  one 
another  in  spite  of  the  noise, 
the  dust,  and  the  grind;  and 
the  touch  of  a  button  quells 
the  monstrous  disturbance  in 
the  smallest  fraction  of  time. 
The  complete  subjection 
and  masterful  control  of  great 
natural  forces  is  one  of  the 
most  impressive  aspects  of  the 
whole  enterprise.  It  is  one 
thing  to  set  the  ball  in  motion; 
it  is  quite  another  to  control 
its  velocity  or  direct  its  course. 
The  crushing  capacity  of  all 
the  stamp-mills  in  California 
is  about  5,000  tons  a  day. 
.,  , ..        ,  .p,  The  crushing  capacity  of  Edi- 

son's giant  and  lesser  rolls  is 
twenty  per  cent,  greater  than 
that  of  all  these  mills  com- 
bined; enough  to  level  in  an 
ordinary  life-time  the  proud- 
est of  mountain  peaks.  The 
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AN    ACCIDENT   TO  THE   STEAM    SHOVEL. 

The  steam  shovel  seems  to  be  as  voracious  as  a  treat  animal.  Sometimes  it  attacks  rocks 
which  arc  too  big  even  for  its  own  great  maw.  In  its  effort  to  overcome  a  great  rock  it  lost 
its  balance  and  tipped  over. 


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EDISON'S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 


THE   STEAM   SHOVEL   WORKING   AT   NIGHT. 

In  the  great  chasm  which  Is  being  cut  across  the  summit  of  Mount  Musconetcong  the 
work  of  taking  out  the  ore-bearing  rock  goes  on  night  and  day.  As  much  as  32,000  tons 
are  taken  off  at  a  blast. 


long  line  of  magnet  faces  have,  popu- 
larly speaking,  enough  combined  pulling 
capacity  to  raise  a  modern  great  gun  clear 
from  its  deck  facing  and  drop  it  over  the 
side  of  the  vessel  into  the  sea.     The  great 


ment  if  ever  there  was  one.  Yet 
behind  it  all,  with  not  in  the  least 
the  demeanor  of  a  conqueror,  is 
the  personality  which  planned  it 
all,  with  forces  arranged  to  con- 
tinue indefinitely  this  compre- 
hensive demolition  of  mountains, 
but  with  invisible  wires  out- 
stretched, so  that  if  necessary 
the  whole  vast  turmoil  of  ma- 
chinery may  be  silenced  on  the 
instant. 

The  way  to  the  plant  leads  up 
the  steep  sides  of  one  of  the 
back  spurs  of  the  Musconetcong 
Mountains;  past  Lake  Hopat- 
cong,  with  its  crowd  of  pleasure- 
seekers  •  beyond  Hurd,  with  its 
iron  mines,  from  which  ore  was 
taken  more  than  a  hundred  years 
ago;  through  virgin  forest  un- 
dergrown  with  rank,  dank  masses 
of  fern ;  upward,  always  upward, 
until  the  1,200-foot  level  is 
reached;  and  the  snorting,  puff- 
ing little  engine  darts  forward 
into  a  nest  of  tall  red  buildings 
from  which  a  dull  booming  noise 
sounds  forth  and  a  choking  white 
dust  blows  out.  The  activity 
roundabout  is  of  that  massive 
order  which  reduces  one  to  a 
condition  of  awe  and  helpless- 
ness similar  to  that  experienced 
in  an  earthquake-ridden  country. 
One  feels  that  the  very  ground 
under  one's  feet  may  suddenly 
yawn  at  the  displeasure  of  the 
master  mind  which  created  the 
community.  On  all  sides  the  roar 
and  whistle  of  machinery,  the 
whir  of  conveyers,  and  the  chok- 
ing white  dust  proclaim  this  to 
be  some  quite  extraordinary  enterprise. 
The  workmen  look  like  millers,  so  coated 
do  their  clothes  become  with  the  flying 
white  particles,  and  everyone  wears  a  pat- 
ent muzzle.      The  effect  of   the   pig-like 


steam  shovel  which  so  ruthlessly  tears  the    snout  which  the  muzzle  closely  resembles 


underbrush,  the  rock,  the  dirt,  and  the  ore 
from  the  mountain  side,  is  already  famous, 
for  it  has  done  extraordinary  work  else- 
where, having  been  the  excavator  of  the 
larger  part  of  the  earth  that  was  removed 
from  the  Chicago  drainage  canal,  and  hav- 
ing served  also  in  the  great  ore  mines  of 
the  Masaba  range.  The  conveyers  that 
carry  the  rock,  the  sand,  and  the  ore  from 
mill  to  mill,  covering  a  mile  in  transit,  lift 
in  sections  100,000  cubic  feet  of  mountain- 
side every  day — a  Herculean  accomplish- 


is  often  very  amusing.  The  magnet-house 
and  some  of  the  other  buildings  are  almost 
as  tall  and  as  narrow  as  city  "sky-scrap- 
ers." Others  are  flat  and  squatty,  cover- 
ing considerable  areas.  Big  wheels  re- 
volve in  the  engine-houses;  big  dynamos 
transmit  their  heavy  currents  through 
overhead  wires  to  the  various  parts  of  the 
plant.  Little  narrow-gauge  locomotives 
puff  their  way  in  and  out  between  the 
buildings;  a  line  of  freight  cars  moves 
slowly  along,  with  shrieking  and  whistling 


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wheels  and  brakes.  Far  off  one  can  see  than  which  there  is  no  more  human-like 
a  great  bridge-crane,  its  top  lifted  above  piece  of  mechanism  in  the  world.  Edison 
the  tree-line;  and  presently  the  cry  of  a  looks  up  pleasantly  as  you  approach.  His 
child  startles  one  into  a  quick  view  of  manner  is  encouraging.  There  is,  as  some 
44  Summerville,"  a  hamlet  where  the  min-  one  has  said,  the  assurance  of  honesty  in  his 
ers  live.  strong,  round  face,  and  an  attitude  of  de- 

This  is  Edison  the  place;  where  is  Edi-  mocracy  in  his  dirty  duster,  which  makes 
son  the  man  ?  "  Probably  over  watching  you  friends  with  him  at  once.  There  is  no 
the  steam  shovel.  He  is  always  there. 
It  seems  to  fascinate  him.  Follow  the 
water-pipe  through  the  cut,"  says  one  of 
his  men.  The  iron  water-pipe  lies  on  the 
surface,  and  it  leads  in  a  tortuous  manner 


air  of  self-importance,  which,  after  all, 
one  could  easily  pardon  in  the  man  for 
whom  the  French  people  played  our  own 
National  anthem  on  his  entrance  to  the 
Paris  Opera  House — honored  him,  in  fact, 


between  the  numerous   buildings  and  out    as  they  only  honor  kings.     As  you  talk,  he 


into  the  open  country.     On  the  way  over 
we    receive   our  first   impressions  of    this 
great  system  of  ore  production.     Over  to 
the   right,   lumbermen    are   cutting   down 
trees  and  making  the  land  ready  for  the 
steam   shovel,   which   is    tearing   away  at 
the  rocks  half    a  mile  distant.      Further 
over,  on    a    half-cleared    section,  a  great 
stream  of  water  rushing  through  a  hose 
with  mighty  force  from  a  hydraulic  pump 
is  washing  the  de'bris  free  from  the  rock 
and  leaving  the  latter  bare  of  all  vegeta- 
tion.     Still    further   along,  the   rattle   of 
steam   drills  and   the  boom  of  dynamite 
tell   where   the   rock   is  being    riven    into 
boulders  and  loaded  on  the  five-ton  skips, 
or   trays,    prior   to    being    transmitted  to 
the   crushing-plant.      The  steam    shovels 
do  the  work  of  loading,  and  as  they  have 
a  capacity  for  lifting  ten  tons  of  free  rock 
a  minute,  the  local  activity  is  tremendous; 
and  the  flat  cars,  carrying 
two     skips     each,    move 
along  at   a   lively  speed. 
A    long   line   of   them   is 
constantly   leading  up  to 
the  crushing-plant,  where 
the  big  electric  cranes  rid 
them  of  their  loads  and  a 
little      switching     engine 
pushes  them  around  a  loop 
and  allows   them    to  run 
down  an  incline  into  the 
cut  again. 

Edison,  descried  in  the 
distance  by  means  of  his 
historic  linen  duster  and 
his  great  country  straw 
hat,  is  found  sitting  on  a 
stone,  peering  earnestly 
down  into  a  great  trench 
from  which  the  most  sur- 
prising grunts,  shrieks, 
whistlings,  and  queer 
noises  generally  are  being 
emitted.  It  is  the  com- 
plaint of  the  steam  shovel, 


places  his  hand  to  his  ear;  but  it  is  not  to 
exclude  the  roar  of  the  crushers,  the  whir 
of  the  conveyers,  or  the  noise  of  the 
shovel.  He  is  slightly  deaf;  a  condition, 
however,  which  he  regards  more  in  the 
way  of  a  boon  than  as  a  misfortune,  for  it 
excludes  the  small  talk  of  those  about  him 
and  enables  him  to  concentrate  his  mind 
on  whatever  problem  he  may  have  in 
hand.  His  face,  when  his  mind  is  bent 
on  serious  matters,  reflects  the  deep  im- 
port of  his  thoughts ;  but  he  is  always  ready 
to  unbend,  and  his  change  of  demeanor 
when  some  lighter  vein  of  conversation  is 
struck  seems  to  come  as  a  relief.  He  is 
as  ready  for  a  funny  story  as  was  Lincoln, 
and  several  of  his  best  jokes  are  decidedly 
on  himself.  A  query  on  a  scientific  sub- 
ject reforms  the  wrinkles  of  thought  on 
his  face,  and  he  becomes  lost  completely  to 
all  sight,   sound,  and  feeling  of  the  out- 


's»ri    i«t  i> 


BXTKKIOK  VIKW   OP  CRUSHING-MILL. 


The  skip-loads  of  blasted  rock  are  conreyed  on  flat  cars  to  the  mill.  Great  electric  cranes  lift  them 
at  the  rate  of  one  a  minute  up  into  the  second  story  of  the  mill,  where  their  contents  are  dumped  into 
the  roll-pit 


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ED/SON'S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 


THE    ELECTRIC    CR\NE    Dl'MPINC   A   SKIP-LOAD    OF    ROCK    INTO   THE    KOLI.-PIT. 

Ten  feet  below  the  flooring  two  immense  rolls,  with  surfaces  studded  with  teeth  and  weighing  over  100  tons,  are  constantly  revolving. 


side  world.  A  laborer,  dressed  even  more 
shabbily  than  Edison  himself,  comes  up, 
and  from  a  distance  of  ten  or  a  dozen  feet 
growls  out  a  question  about  some  new 
braces  which  are  being  put  in.  Edison 
grunts  back  his  answer  in  quite  the  same 
tone  of  voice,  and  a  moment  later  is  off, 
with  short,  quick  steps,  and  an  intense 
look,  towards  a  group  of  men  holding  a 
consultation  over  some  mechanical  diffi- 
culty connected  with  the  plant.  Edison 
solves  the  problem  almost  as  soon  as  it  is 
laid  before  him,  and  presently  is  back 
again,  gazing  down  at  the  first  object  of 
his  attention. 

"  We  are  making  a  Yosemite  of  our  own 
here,"  he  says;  "  we  will  soon  have  one  of 
the  biggest  artificial  canons  in  the  world. " 


This  remark  is  occasioned  by  the  fact  that 
the  steam  shovel  is  operating  at  a  point 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  from  the  works 
proper.  It  is  somewhat  down  the  hillside, 
but  it  is  eating  its  way  on  a  level  straight 
into  the  hill.  "It  will  take  us  a  year 
to  reach  the  mills,"  says  the  inventor; 
"  but  when  we  do  get  that  far  in,  we  will 
have  a  trench  with  walls  one  hundred  feet 
deep.  I  suppose  we  will  take  out  over 
600,000  tons  of  rock  before  we  get  there. 
Then  when  the  trench  is  completed,  we  can 
blast  off  the  walls  with  dynamite,  taking 
off  32,000  tons  at  a  time.  But  look  at  this 
fellow,"  he  continues,  pointing  to  the 
steam  shovel.  "  Wouldn't  you  think  he 
was  alive  ?  Always  seems  to  me  like  one 
of  those  old-time  monsters  or  dragons  we 

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EDISON  S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 


85 


read  about  in  children's  books.     I  like  to 
sit  and  watch  it." 

Monster!  Indeed  it  is  a  true  monster, 
both  in  shape  and  attitude.  Its  body  is 
represented  in  the  car;  its  thick  neck  has 
all  the  stockiness  of  invincibility;  and  its 
great  square  head,  with  the  three  steel  teeth 
protruding  like  the  fangs  of  an  undershot 
bulldog,  give  it  quite  the  air  of  a  great 
animal,  even  in  repose.  But  it  is  when  it  is 
in  action  that  the  personality  of  the  thing 
becomes  apparent.  The  beams  of  the 
derrick  slide  against  one  another  like  the 
sinewy  tendons  in  the  neck  of  a  mastodon, 
the  great  head  lowers  itself  for  the  charge, 
and  the  teeth  fairly  glisten  as  they  attack 
the  hillside.  Then  when  some  hidden  ob- 
stacle is  encountered  and  the  way  be- 
comes temporarily  blocked,  the  pent-up 
steam  within  it  breaks  forth  as  from  its 
nostrils,  and  the  great  thing  trembles  all 
over  and  shrieks  out  its  rage,  the  shrill 
tones  only  dying  down  to  a  satisfied  grunt 
when  the  obstruction  has  been  conquered. 


It  weighs  200,000  pounds,  and  is  the  big- 
gest steam  shovel  in  the  world.  Once  it 
encountered  a  rock  which  was  too  big  even 
for  it,  and  the  way  it  throbbed,  screamed, 
hissed,  whistled,  and  shook  when  the  ob- 
ject of  its  wrath  refused  to  budge  was  a 
moving  spectacle  indeed. 

The  man  who  operates  this  great  piece 
of  mechanism  bears  the  limited  distinction 
of  being  one  of  the  best  steam-shovel 
workers  in  the  world.  He"  is  certainly  a 
perfect  master  of  the  machine.  The 
shovel  is  used,  in  places,  to  clean  off  a  ledge 
preparatory  to  blasting.  Edison,  with  his 
sensitive  needle,  or  "magnetic  eye,'*  as 
he  calls  it,  went  over  the  ground  above 
the  ledge  before  it  was  uncovered,  and  was 
able  to  determine  its  exact  shape.  Above 
the  edge  of  the  rock,  stakes  were  driven, 
and  the  shovel  operator  was  told  to  clean 
it  off.  So  accurate  was  his  work  that  the 
channel  cut  by  the  great  machine  did  not 
at  any  point  vary  twelve  inches  from  the 
wall  of  rock  bordering  the  ore. 


END    VIEW   OF  THE   GIANT   ROLLS. 

After  passing  through  the  big  rolls,  an  end  view  of  which  is  here  shown,  the  pieces  of  rock  drop  through  to  the  smaller  rolls  beside  which  the 
workman  is  standing.  Five  and  six  ton  rocks  go  through  in  about  three  seconds.  A  constant  stream  of  rock  is  kept  falling  into  the  pit  from  die 
floor  above,  and  the  crushed  rock  can  be  seen  rising  upward  in  the  elevator  on  the  right,  to  be  dumped  into  other  and  smaller  sets  of  rolls,  which  soon 
reduce  h  to  dust. 


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EDISON'S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 


From  the  steam  shovel  the  rocks,  weigh- 
ing five  and  six  tons,  are  conveyed  to  the 
crushing-plant.  The  crushing-plant  is  a 
large  eccentric  building,  from  the  open 
sides  of  which  extends  massive  iron  frame- 
work upon  which  electric  cranes  are  oper- 
ated. To  the  casual  observer  the  build- 
ing seems  to  be  little  more  than  a  large 
platform,  the  un- 
der part  of  which 
is  closed  in,  and 
the  upper  part  of 
which  seems  to 
contain  nothing 
more  than  an  ex- 
pectant group  of 
men  whose  busi- 
ness it  is  to  anx- 
iously watch  big 
boulders  as  they 
are  swung  inward 
by  the  cranes  and 
dropped  into  a 
large  square  hole 
in  the  floor.  As 
each  rock  disap- 
pears, the  strained 
facial  expression  of 
each  man  is  envel- 
oped in  a  cloud  of 
white  dust,  and  a 
dull  boom!  boom! 
announces  that 
some  convincing 
change  has  taken 
place  in  the  mate- 
rial. As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  giant, 
or  largest,  rolls  of 
the  crushing-plant 
are  made  to  re- 
volve in  the  first 
story  of  the  build- 
ing, and  the  rock 
is  dumped  into  the 
pit  which  1  eads 
down  to  them  from 
the    second    story. 

This  remarkable  crushing-apparatus  con- 
sists primarily  of  two  immense  rollers  over 
six  feet  in  diameter  and  five  in  width. 

The  rounded  surfaces  are  studded  with 
great  teeth,  and  the  great  rolls  themselves 
run  within  eighteen  inches  of  each  other. 
Looked  at  from  above,  these  monster 
crushers,  revolving  with  a  surface  speed  of 
a  mile  a  minute,  and  weighing  237,000 
pounds,  form  probably  the  most  awe-com- 
pelling abyss  in  the  world.  The  relentless 
fangs,  constantly  traveling  inward  and 
downward,  impress  the  mind  more  strongly 


END  VIEW   OF  SBPARAT1NG-MAGNBTS. 

After  having  been  reduced  to  dust  the  ore-bearing  material  is  elevated  to 
the  cupola  of  the  magnet  house.  It  is  dumped  into  a  chute,  and  allowed  to 
work  its  way  down  past  the  magnet  faces,  of  which  there  are  480.  The  sand, 
being  unattracted,  passes  straight  on,  and  is  conveyed  by  an  elevator  out  of 
the  building  and  dumped  on  the  sand  pile.  The  ore,  attracted  by  the  mag- 
nets, is  deflected  into  a  chute  of  its  own,  and  conveyed  away  to  the  mixing* 
house. 


than   could   any   bottomless  pit,  and  the 
feeling  becomes  all  the  more  intense  when 
one  learns  that  beneath  them  is  another 
set  of  rollers  somewhat  nearer  together, 
with  a  serrated  surface,  more  wicked  if  any- 
thing in  its  action  than  the  teeth  above. 
These  giant  rolls  will  receive  and  grind  up 
five  and  six  ton  rocks  as  fast  as  they  can 
be  unloaded    from 
the  skips.     A  skip- 
load  of  rock  every 
forty-five    seconds 
was    the     rate    at 
which     the     plant 
was    operated    for 
the  purpose  of  test- 
ing the  capacity  of 
the    rolls,    but    an 
average  of  300  tons 
an  hour  is  consid- 
ered a  fair  running 
capacity. 

It  may    surprise 
the  superficial   ob- 
server to  learn  that 
the    great     Corliss 
engine  which  oper- 
ates the  rolls  takes 
no  part  whatever  in 
the   crushing    pro- 
cess.    There    is 
something    of    a 
trick  in  it,  but  it  is 
an  effective  answer 
to     the     engineers 
who  declared    that 
no   machine   could 
be     made     strong 
enough  to  stand  the 
strain  of   crushing 
these  great  bould- 
ers.    It  is  the  mo- 
mentum of  the  sev- 
enty tons  of  metal 
contained     in     the 
moving     parts     of 
the  rolls  which 
does  the  crushing. 
The   engine   supplies   just  power  enough 
to    run   the   rolls   at   a   very  high  speed. 
If  anything — a  rock,  for  instance — drops 
in  between  the  rolls  so  as  to  in  any  way 
impede  their  progress,  a  clutch  by  which 
the    rolls   are    connected    to    the   engine 
allows    the    latter    to    let    go    its    hold. 
After  that  the  momentum  of  the  rolls  does 
the  work  of  crushing,  the  engine,  of  course, 
immediately  catching  hold  again  the  mo- 
ment the  impeding  rock  has  been  crushed 
and  passed  through  to  the  next  set  of  roll- 
ers.     One  might   think  for  the    moment 

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that  these  rolls  would  be  suddenly  stopped 
by  the  obstructing  rock  the  moment  the 
power  of  the  engine  was  withdrawn.  But 
it  is  only  necessary  to  imagine  how  that 
same  rock  would  suffer  if  allowed  to  bear 
the  brunt  of  a  head-on  collision  of  two 
express    trains.       Only    the    fastest    train 


into  the  next  set,  its  final  pulverization  is 
accomplished,  for  the  slightly  serrated  sur- 
faces of  these  rolls  fit  into  each  other  like 
two  cogwheels,  and  ore  which  is  not  re- 
duced to  dust  cannot  accomplish  the  pas- 
sage between  them.  Here,  as  before,  an 
elevator  catches  the  crushed  product,  and 


rapidly 
roll  is 
great 


travels  with  the  velocity  attained  by  these   carries  it  to  the  top  of  an  immense  dryer 

(forthework 
goes  on  in  wet  as 
well  as  dry 
weather),  and 
thence  to  the  roof 
of  a  mammoth 
stock-house,  cap- 
able of  holding 
16,000  tons,  and 
dumps  it  therein 
for  future  use. 

From  this  point 
the  ore  and  sand 
go  on  a  wild  ca- 
reer which  never 
stops  till  one  has 
reached  the  cars 
and  the  other  has 
reached  the  sand 
pile.     In  the  cel- 
lar of  the  stock- 
house  is  a  deep, 
long  trench.   The 
sloping    sides   of 
the  house  lead  to 
this     trench,     so 
that  the  tendency 
of  the  crude  ore 
contained  therein 
is  to  slide  into  it. 
Working    in    the 
trench  is   a  con- 
veyer which  car- 
ries    the     crude 
material      across 
the  road  and  up 
a  covered  way  to 
the  big  barn-like 
structure    known 
locally  as  the  refining  mill.     The  building 
is  most    interesting   because  it    is   herein 
that  the  ore  is  separated  from  the  sand. 
It    is,    on    the   other  hand,    uninteresting 
from    the    view    point    of    the   spectator, 
because  most  of   the  interior  mechanism 
is  encased.      Nevertheless  there  are  won- 
derful   processes  constantly   in    operation 
within.       It    is   the    perfection    of    auto- 
matic action.     No  automaton  of  old  ever 
worked   out    a   more    intricate    movement 
than    do    the    sand    and    ore  within    this 
building.       Better    still,    no     ensemble    of 
springs  or  other  paraphernalia  is  required 
Digitized  by  VjOOQ  16 


rolls  ;  and,  be- 
sides, it  is  sev- 
enty tons  of  iron 
and  steel  against 
five  or  six  tons  of 
ore-bearing  rock-. 
Again,  the  rock 
is  dropped  over 
ten  feet  into  the 
pit  before  it 
strikes  the  rolls, 
and  the  impact 
on  the 
moving 
often 

enough  to  break 
the     boulder     in 
two.      In  short,  it 
is  the  kinetic  en- 
ergy of  the  rolls 
that  does  the  real 
work  of  crushing. 
To  illustrate  the 
process,  it  is,  ac- 
cording   to     Mr. 
Edison,    the 
plication    of 
principle   of 
pile-driver. 

Far    down 
neath     the 
sets    of  rolls 
scribed  above,  a 
conveyer,  or  end- 
less chain  of  iron 
baskets,    catches 
the      crushed 
rock  and  carries 
it  up  into  another 

part  of  the  building.  The  rock  has  now 
been  reduced  to  pieces  the  size  of  a 
man's  head.  The  conveyer  carries  these 
pieces  up  above  three  more  sets  of  rolls, 
and  dumps  them  with  a  rattle  and  a  bang 
in  between  the  topmost  set  of  rollers.  The 
rock  at  this  point  is  reduced  more  than  half, 
or,  let  us  say,  to  pieces  the  size  of  the 
fist;  and  as  it  falls  through  in  a  steady 
stream  it  encounters  the  still  more  relent- 
less teeth  of  the  next  set  of  rolls,  directly 
underneath.  Having  passed  through  these, 
it  has  almost  reached  the  fineness  of  gran- 
ulated sugar;  but  when  it  drops  through 


ap- 
the 
the 

be- 
two 
de- 


THE   ORE   ON    ITS  WAY  TO  THE    MIXING-HOUSE. 

A  leather  belt  carries  the  finely  divided  ore  to  a  blower-room,  where  the  small 
percentage  of  remaining'  foreign  substances  is  removed  from  it.  Another  belt- 
conveyer  then  carries  it  to  the  mixing-house,  where  it  is  dropped  into  great  cyl- 
inders and  by  means  of  iron  paddles  is  mixed  with  an  adhesive  substance. 


88 


EDISON'S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 


for  the  work.     The  building  is  over  six    sand  passes  straight  on  downward,  and  is 
stories  high,  and  the  conveyer  which  brings    carried  away,  through  chutes,  out  of  the 


the  crude  ore  from  the  cellar  of  the  stock- 
house  elevates  it  to  the  very  cupola, 
dumps  it  into  space,  and  allows  it  to 
work  out  its  own  salvation  on  its  way  to 
the  basement.  Incidentally  it  performs 
several  feats  on  its  way  downward.  It 
screens  itself  several  times,  separates  from 
the  sand,  divides  its  coarse  grains  from  the 


building.  The  ore,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
deflected  from  the  course  taken  by  the 
sand,  and  drops  into  a  chute  of  its  own.  It 
falls  on  a  conveyer  which  carries  it  out  of 
the  building  to  another  stock-house.  On 
the  way  out  of  the  building  the  ore  passes 
through  a  blowing-room  in  which  such 
dust   as    may    have    passed    through    the 


fine,  and  finally  wends  its  way  out  of  the    screens  with  it  is  blown  from  it.     None  of 


building  to  do  great  things  later  on.  But 
all  of  this  is  done  with  hardly  any  other 
aid  than  that  of  gravity. 

The  ore  passes  altogether  480  magnets. 
The  first  set  of  magnets  has  the  least  pull- 
ing or  deflecting  power,  to  use  a  popular 
term.  The  third  set  has  the  greatest  pull- 
ing power,  and  the  second  set  is  interme- 
diate in  strength.  On  its  way  down,  the 
crushed  rock  falls  past  the  lines  of  mag- 
nets  in   the   form  of  a  fine  curtain.     The 


THE    RRIQUKTTING   MACHINES. 

By  means  of  conveyers  the  now  sticky  mass  of  ore  is  brought  to  the  briquetting  machines  to  be  made  into 
bricks,  or  briquettes.  There  are  thirty  briquetting  machines,  and  a  constant  stream  of  ore  pours  into  the  ends 
of  the  machines.  The  proper  amount  of  ore  falls  into  an  orifice  about  three  inches  wide  and  one  inch  deep, 
and  a  plunger  then  comes  forward  and  exerts  thousands  of  pounds  pressure  on  the  ore.  As  the  plunger 
recedes,  the  cylinder  holding  the  briquette  turns  downward,  and  the  newly-made  briquette  drops  out  into 
another  conveyer,  to  be  carried  into  baking-ovens. 


the  iron  ore  is  lost,  and  even  the  dust  is 
sold — to  be  used  in  paint  and  other  sub- 
stances. The  ore  is  finally  conveyed  to 
another  stock-house,  which  contains  noth- 
ing but  pure,  powdered  iron. 

Five  thousand  tons  of  iron,  fine  enough 
almost  to  go  through  a  *flour  sieve  !     It 
looks  like  a  great  pile  of  black  sand,  and 
one  cannot  help  but  marvel  at  it  when  the 
thought  of  what  the  fire  will  change  it  into 
forces  itself  upon  one's  mind;  for  while  as 
it  lies  it  is   probably 
the  heaviest  mass  of 
powder  in  the  world, 
in  the   hands   of   the 
smelter     it     will     be 
changed,  twisted,  re- 
shaped,    and     re- 
formed   into    objects 
which  ultimately    be- 
come associated  with 
our  daily  lives. 

But  this  ore,  how- 
ever pure,  however 
well  calculated  to  take 
its  place  in  the  busi- 
ness of  life,  cannot  be 
smelted  in  its  present 
form.  If  thrown  into 
the  furnace  in  the 
form  of  dust,  a  large 
part  would  be  blown 
out  by  the  powerful 
blast.  It  must  be 
made  up  into  lumps 
or  cakes,  so  that  when 
placed  in  the  furnace 
the  gases  can  circu- 
late freely  through 
and  around  it.  For 
this  purpose  it  is  con- 
veyed to  the  briquet- 
ting  mill  by  means  of 
another  of  those  con- 
veyers which  seem  to 
reach  out  of  the 
ground  in  all  direc- 
tions. In  fact,  you 
might  start  in  any 
building     in     Edison, 


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EDISON'S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 


89 


and,  by  going  into  the  cellar,  walk  through 
the  conveyer  way  up  to  the  top  story  of 
the  next  building,  descend  to  the  cellar 
as  before,  and  so  on  until  you  had  com- 
pleted the  circuit  of  every  house  in  the 
place. 

The  ore  is  mixed  with  an  adhesive  ma- 
terial   which    binds   every  particle   to    its 
neighbors.     The  mixing-machines  are  long 
iron   cylinders   in   which    a  succession  of 
curved  iron  paddles,  or  dashers,  sitting  on 
springs,  are  constantly  revolving.     The  ore 
is  supplied  from  an  endless  rope  conveyer 
to  the  mixers,  while  the  binding  material 
is  conveyed  in   pipes,    both   passing  into 
the  cylinders.      The  ore  passes  into  one 
end   of  the   cylinder,    and   is   thoroughly 
mixed   before   it  passes  out  of  the  other 
end.     Again  is  the  now  sticky  mass  of  ore 
dropped     into    a     con- 
veyer, and  carried  into 
another    building.       In 
this   last    structure   are 
the      briquetting      ma- 
chines.     They   are   de- 
vised   by    Edison,    and 
consist    primarily    of   a 
plunger  which  forces  the 
sticky  ore  into  a  small 
round  orifice,  subjecting 
it   in    the    meantime  to 
thousands     of     pounds 
pressure.       The    nicely 
rounded      briquettes, 
ranging   from    two  and 
one-half    to    three   and 
one-half  inches  in  diam- 
eter, drop  into  another 
conveyer,  and  are  car- 
ried into  ovens  in  which 
they  are  baked,  the  con- 
veyer    itself     traveling 
five  times  up  and  down 
the  interior  of  the  ovens 
before     they    reappear. 
There     are     thirty 
briquette-making       ma- 
chines and  fifteen  ovens, 
built  side  by  side.     The 
baking  is   necessary    in 
order  to  make  the 
briquettes       sufficiently 
hard  when  cold  to  stand 
shipment.     The  baking 
also  prevents  them  from 
disintegrating  under  the 
action    of    heat   in    the 
blast-furnaces,   and 
leaves  them  so  that,  al- 
though    very     porous, 
they    will     not    absorb 


water.  Having  left  the  ovens,  the  bri- 
quettes are  transported  by  iron-rope  con- 
veyers to  the  railway  and  loaded  on  to  cars. 

Six  thousand  tons  of  crude  ore  are 
changed  into  1,500  tons  of  briquettes  in 
each  day's  run  of  twenty  hours.  Twenty- 
eight  hundred  briquettes  are  contained 
in  one  ton,  and  an  average  freight  car 
will  hold  twenty  tons.  This  means  that 
seventy-five  carloads  of  pure  iron  ore  are 
wrested  daily  from  heretofore  worthless 
rock  and  sent  furnaceward  to  be  made  into 
objects  which  will  be  useful  to  all  the 
world. 

This  is  all  there  is  in  the  process.  But 
how  much  that  is!  A  small  conception  of 
the  labor  involved  may  be  had  from  an 
inkling  obtained  from  Mr.  W.  S.  Mallory, 
Mr.  Edison's  second  in  command.    44  When 


THE   GREAT  OVENS   IN    THE    BRIQUETTING    PLANT. 


A  conveyer  carries  the  briquettes  of  pure  iron  ore  into  the  ovens,  where  they  are  baked  to  prevent  them 
from  disintegrating  when  exposed  to  the  atmosphere  during  transportation.  The  conveyer  travels  five 
times  around  the  ovens,  and  the  briquettes  are  exposed  to  a  very  high  temperature  before  they  reappear 
to  be  loaded  on  the  cars. 

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EDISON'S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 


it  was  found  necessary,"  says  Mr.  Mallory, 
"to  make  the  concentrates  (iron  ore)  into 
briquettes,  there  were  five  things  to  be  ac- 
complished :  First,  the  binding  material 
must  be  very  cheap.  Second,  it  must  be  of 
such  a  nature  that  very  little  of  it  would 
be  required  per  ton  of  concentrates. 
Third,  the  briquettes  must  be  very  porous, 
to  permit  the  gases  of  the  furnace  to  enter; 
and  yet  must  not  absorb  water,  else  they 
could  not  be  shipped  in  open  cars.  Fourth, 
it  must  make  the  briquettes  hard  enough 
when  cold  to  stand  transportation.  Fifth, 
it  must  make  the  briquettes  such  that 
they  would  not  disintegrate  by  action 
of  the  heat  in  the  blast-furnace.  To  get 
the  above  five  conditions,  Mr.  Edison  was 
compelled  to  try  several  thousand  experi- 
ments. At  the  time  of  the  discovery  of 
X-rays,  Mr.  Edison  made  1,800  experi- 
ments before  he  hit  upon  tungstate  of  cal- 
cium for  the  fluoroscope,  and  the  news- 
papers said  that  a  man  who  would  try  that 
many  experiments  ought  to  succeed.     But 


LOADING   FREIGHT  CARS   WITH    BRIQUETTES. 

From  the  ovens  the  briquettes  are  conveyed  to  the  railroad  and  dumped  into  cars.  Twenty  eight  hundred 
briquettes  are  contained  in  one  ton.  Each  car  holds  twenty  tons,  and  an  average  of  seventy-five  car  loads  of 
pure  iron  ore  are  produced  daily. 


here  the  labor  and  patience  involved  was 
many  times  greater,  and  this,  please  un- 
derstand, represents  but  one  feature  of  the 
plant." 

One  intricate  piece  of  mechanism  used 
in  the  crushing-plant  illustrates  the  genius 
of  Edison  in  making  a  benefit  of  what 
otherwise  would  prove  a  detriment.  The 
process  of  crushing  is  very  dusty,  and  at 
first  the  dust  got  into  the  bearings  of  the 
elevators  and  cut  everything  badly,  and 
the  same  trouble  was  experienced  through- 
out the  mill,  notwithstanding  every  precau- 
tion. Mr.  Edison  immediately  devised  a 
system  of  oiling  all  bearings  (of  which  there 
are  4,200)  which  depends  upon,  and  will 
not  work  without,  grit  and  dust.  This  is 
only  an  item,  but  the  plant  is  full  of  these 
items. 

Again,  the  three  high  rolls  in  the  magnet- 
house  are  wonderful  examples  of  how  fric- 
tion may  be  rendered  almost  nothing.  The 
friction  of  ordinary  crushing-rolls  at  the 
high  efficiency  and  pressure  necessary  for 
this  work  amounts 
under  ordinary  condi- 
tions to  about  eighty 
per  cent,  of  the  horse- 
power applied,  leav- 
ing only  twenty  per 
cent,  to  do  the  actual 
work  on  the  rock. 
On  the  three  high 
rolls  invented  by  Mr. 
Edison,  the  friction 
is  only  sixteen  per 
cent.,  leaving  eighty- 
four  per  cent,  of  the 
horse-power  applied 
available  for  the  work 
of  crushing.  The 
principle  involved  is 
too  intricate  to  ex- 
plain, but  it  means  the 
beginning  of  a  new 
era  in  crushing-ma- 
chinery. This  princi- 
ple can  be  applied  in 
every  industry  where 
crushing  is  a  feature, 
from  gold  extracting 
to  sugar  manufactur- 
ing. The  reduction 
of  friction  in  the 
mechanism  simply 
means  that  machinery 
of  small  power  can  be 
used  in  work  which 
heretofore  has  re- 
quired machinery  of 
very  great  power. 
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EDISON'S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 


91 


THE   SAND  TOW  BR. 

When  the  sand  has  been  separated  from  the  ore  a  conveyer  carries  it  out  of  the  building  and  up  an  immense  craneway,  from  which  it  is  dumped  on 
a  pile.  The  large  arm  from  which  the  sand  is  dropped  is  movable.  One  pile  is  made,  then  another.  Cars  carry  the  first  one  away,  then  the  arm  is 
swung  back  and  the  gap  is  filled  up.  The  sand  is  valuable  for  building  purposes,  and  long  train-loads  of  it  are  carried  away  from  the  village  of  Edison 
every  day. 


Over  on  one  side  of  the  works  a  very 
beautiful  sight  may  be  viewed.  It  is  a 
cataract  of  sand,  fine,  even,  and  pure,  and 
different  from  any  other  sand  in  the  world. 
From  the  magnet-house  extends  a  der- 
rick-like structure  holding  a  conveyer. 
Projecting  far  out  into  the  air  from  the 
end  of  this  structure  is  a  giant  arm.  The 
arm,  like  its  support,  holds  a  conveyer. 
This  contrivance  spouts  sand.      A  stream 


of  it,  shimmering  and  shining  in  the  sun- 
light, descends  and  mixes  with  the  great 
cone  already  piled  up  beneath.  Nothing 
could  be  more  beautiful  than  this  gorgeous 
cataractof  powdered  rock  falling  likea  veil, 
and  noiselessly  adding  to  the  great  mass 
below.  Nor  is  it  a  useless  accumulation.  It 
is  sold  for  various  purposes  to  builders  and 
manufacturers,  who  seek  it  more  eagerly 
than  they  do  the  sand  of  the  seashore  or 
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EDISON'S  REVOLUTION  IN  IRON  MINING. 

Crushing:  Plant  Magnet-House.  Briquctting  Plant 


GENERAL   VIEW   OF   EDISON    IN    WINTER. 

Taken  from  Summerville,  the  village  where  the  miners  live- 


of  the  bank.  Seashore  or  bank  sand  has, 
in  the  course  of  centuries,  lost  its  edges, 
because  the  particles  have  constantly 
rubbed  against  one  another.  Broken  rock 
sand,  however,  is  very  sharp,  and  for 
cement  and  lime-work  is  very  desirable. 
And  in  many  other  directions  it  is  also 
valuable,  and  the  demand  promises  an  aid 
in  cheapening  the  production  of  the  ore. 

44  I  want  to  say,"  says  Mr.  Mallory, 
"  and  I  know  whereof  I  speak,  for  I  have 
been  with  him  night  and  day  for  several 
years,  that  ninety-nine  per  cent,  of  the 
credit  of  all  the  invention  and  new  work  of 
this  establishment  is  due  personally  to  Mr. 
Edison.  I  have  heard  it  stated  that  Mr. 
Edison  is  an  organizer  who  uses  the 
brains  of  other  men.  Nothing  could  be 
further  from  the  truth  than  this.  If  this 
place  was  preserved  as  a  monument  for 
him,  his  memory  would  be  placed  upon  no 
false  pedestal.  I  have  seen  him  by  night 
and  by  day,  in  all  weathers,  and  under  all 
conditions,  and  I  have  found  him  always 
the  same,  the  personification  of  concentra- 
tion of  purpose,  and  with  a  long-distance 
judgment  at  his  beck  and  call  which,  how- 
ever strained  it  may  seem  at  the  time,  we 
have  all  learned  to  respect  as  being  sure 
to  prove  right  in  the  end.  And  what  has 
been  said  of  his  personal  magnetism  has 
not  been  overstated.  I  doubt  if  there 
is  another  man  living  for  whom  his  men 
would  do  as  much.  I  suppose  it  is  the 
power  of  example.     We  have  here   many 


men  who  have  left  well-kept  homes  to 
come  up  into  the  backwoods  and  toil  day 
and  night  mainly  out  of  loyalty  to  Mr.  Ed- 
ison. The  fact  that  the  '  old  man  '  does  it 
seems  to  be  sufficient  reason  for  them  to  do 
it;  for  what  is  good  enough  for  the  'old 
man  '  is  good  enough  for  them.  This,  at 
least,  is  the  spirit  that  prevails." 

That  this  is  the  spirit  which  pervades  the 
community  can  be  easily  seen  by  anyone 
who  visits  the  place.  Up  on  the  hilltop,  in 
the  shanties  of  Summerville,  dwell  laborers 
of  the  poorer  class.  Far  over  on  the  other 
side  of  the  mine  stands  the  "White  House." 
It  is  a  little  dwelling  in  which  Edison  lives 
with  his  chief  men.  At  intermediate  spots 
stand  the  shanties  in  which  live  the  work- 
men of  intermediate  class.  But  from  all 
of  these  dwellings  comes  a  reverence  for 
the  master  which  is  quite  as  strong  and 
healthy  in  one  place  as  in  the  other.  As 
he  moves  among  them  all,  none  of  them 
can  have  a  true  conception  of  the  great 
things  he  is  constantly  planning,  but  they 
all  know  it  is  for  their  good  and  for  the 
good  of  the  world  at  large.  No  man  has 
done  more  than  Edison  to  benefit  his  gen- 
eration. He  essentially  is  the  man  of  his 
time.  Other  men  may  do  great  things  in 
the  time  to  come,  but  whatever  these 
things  may  be,  they  can  never  create  more 
radical  changes  in  the  conduct  of  human 
life  than  have  Edison's  inventions.  His 
old  duster  and  his  older  straw  hat  can  be 
seen  flitting  hither  and  thither  about  the 

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HALCYON  DAYS.  03 

works,  iheir  owner  apparently  inte.it  upon  Mr.    Edison's   mind    will    revtrt    to    even 

nothing  out  of  the  ordinary;  but  the  con-  greater  schemes  of  conquest;  and  at  this 

stant  suggestions  which   he  makes  to  the  moment  it  is  safe  to  say  that  he  is  plan- 

he.uls  of    the  various  departments    show  ning  out  some  great  achievement   which 

that  the  wonderful  brain  is  never  inactive,  will  take  the   world   more  by  storm  than 

The  present  enterprise  was  planned  years  have    the    great    things    he    has   already 

ago,  and  now  that  it  is  finally  completed,  accomplished. 


HALCYON    DAYS. 

By  Walt  Whitman. 

Not  from  successful  love  alone, 

Nor  wealth,  nor  honor'd  middle  age,  nor  victories  of  politics  or  war; 

But  as  life  wanes,  and  all  the  turbulent  passions  calm. 

As  gorgeous,  vapory,  silent  hues  cover  the  evening  sky, 

As  softness,  fulness,  rest,  suffuse  the  frame,  like  freshier,  balmier  air, 

As  the  days  take  on  a  mellower  light,  and  the  apple  at  last  hangs  really  finish'd 

and  indolent-ripe  on  the  tree, 
Then  for  the  teeming,  quietest,  happiest  days  of  all  ! 
The  brooding  and  blissful  halcyon  days ! 


From  "  November  Boughs,"  by  Walt  Whitman. 
Small.  Maynard  &  Co.,  Publishers,  Boston. 
By  special  permission. 


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PRIZE    DRAWINGS. 


A   TYPE   OF   AMERICAN    HEAD.      PAINTED    UY   MISS   LILLIB   O  RYAN. 

The  above  drawing  received  the  first  prire,  and  the  drawing  reproduced  on  the  opposite  page  received  the  second 
prize,  offered  by  McCluke's  Magazine,  at  the  suggestion  of  Dr.  Wallace  Wood,  of  the  University  of  New  York,  in  a  com- 
petition for  drawings  of  ideal  and  typical  American  heads.  Though  this  competition  was  announced  entirely  through 
circulars  sent  to  art  teachers  and  students  and  a  single  notice  in  "  The  Art  Student,"  and  the  time  given  was  quite  short. 


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PRIZE    DRAWINGS. 


A  TYPE  OF   AMERICAN   HEAD.      DRAWN    BY  J.    HARRISON    MILLS. 

about  ninety  drawings  and  paintings  in  all  mediums  were  submitted.  All  were  exhibited  in  Dr.  Wood's  lecture  room  in 
the  University  Building,  New  York.  The  prizes  were  awarded  by  a  committee  composed  of  Dr.  Wallace  Wood.  Mr.  Ernest 
Knaupft,  editor  of  "  The  Art  Student,"  and  a  representative  of  McClure's  Magazine.  Honorable  mention  was  also  made 
of  the  contributions  of  W.  D.  Parrish,  Vincent  Aderente,  Katherine  S.  Valas,  and  William  Forsyth. 


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SAY   NOT  THE  STRUGG 
NOUGHT   AVAILETH. 

By  Arthur  High  Clough. 

Say  not,  the  struggle  nought  availeth, 
The  labor  and  the  wounds  are  vain, 

The  enemy  faints  not,  nor  faileth, 
And  as  things  have  been  they  remain. 

If  hopes  were  dupes,  fears  may  be  liars  ; 

It  may  be,  in  yon  smoke  concealed. 
Your  comrades  chase  e'en  now  the  fliers, 

And,  but  for  you,  possess  the  field. 

For  while  the  tired  waves,  vainly  breaking, 
Seem  here  no  painful  inch  to  gain, 

Far  back,  through  creeks  and  inlets  making. 
Comes  silent,  flooding  in,  the  main. 

And  not  by  eastern  windows  only, 

When  daylight  comes,  comes  in  the  light; 

In  front,  the  sun  climbs  slow,  how  slowly, 
But  westward,  look,  the  land  is  bright. 


TO    R.  T.   H.  B. 

By  William  Ernest  Henley. 

Oil   of  the  night  that  covers  me. 
Black  as  the  pit  from  pole  to  pole, 

I  thank  whatever  gods  may  be 
For  my  unconquerable  soul. 

In  the  fell  clutch  of  circumstance 
I  have  not  winced  nor  cried  aloud. 

Under  the  bludgeonings  of  chance 
My  head  is  bloody,  but  unbowed. 

Beyond  this  place  of  wrath  and  tears 
Looms  but  the  Horror  of  the  shade. 

And  yet  the  menace  of  the  years 
Finds  and  shall  find  me  unafraid. 

It  matters  not  how  strait  the  gate, 

How  charged  with  punishments  the  scroll, 

I  am  the  master  of  my  fate  : 
I  am  the  captain  of  my  soul. 


LIFE    IS   STRUGGLE. 

By  Arthur  High  Clouu.h. 

To  wear  out  heart,  and  nerves,  and  brain 
And  give  oneself  a  world  of  pain  ; 
Be  eager,  angry,  fierce,  and  hot, 
Imperious,  supple — God  knows  what, 
For  what's  all  one  to  have  or  not  ; 
O  false,  unwise,  absurd,  and  vain  ! 
For  'tis  not  joy,  it  is  not  gain. 
It  is  not  in  itself  a  bliss, 
Only  it  is  precisely  this 

That  keeps  us  all  alive. 


To  say  we  truly  feel  the  pain, 
And  quite  are  sinking  with  the  strain  ;— 
Entirely,  simply,  undeceived. 
Believe,  and  say  we  ne'er  believed 
The  object,  e'en  were  it  achieved, 
A  thing  we  e'er  had  cared  to  keep  ; 
With  heart  and  soul  to  hold  it  cheap, 
And  then  to  go  and  try  it  again  ; 
O  false,  unwise,  absurd,  and"  vain  ! 
O,  'tis  not  joy,  and  'tis  not  bliss, 
Only  it  is  precisely  this 

That  keeps  us  still  alive. 


From  •*  Poem*,"  by  Arthur  Hugh  Clough 
(Macmlllan  *  Co.,  Publishers,  New  York,) ; 
and  "  A  Book  of  Verses,"  by  William  Ernest  Henley 
(Charles  Scribner's  Sons.  Publishers.  New  York). 


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hc£» 


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Anthony  Hope's  New  Zenda  Novel 

Dealing  with  the  love  and  adventures  of  Rudolf  Rassendyll  and  the  Princess  Flavia 


r 


MCCL  RES 
MAGAZII  IE 

FOR  DECEMBER 


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CHARLES   A.    DANA    IN    HIS   OFFICE   AT   THE    "SUN." 
Painted  from  life  by  C.  K.  Linson  ;    engraved  on  wood  by  Henry  Wolf. 

This,  probably  the  most  characteristic  portrait  of  Mr.  Dana,  was  painted  for  illustration  of  Mr.  Edward  P.  Mitchell's  biographical  article  on 
Mr.  Dana  (McClure's  Magazine,  October,  1894).  Mr.  Wolfs  new  engraving  of  it  reproduces  the  original  with  remarkable  vigor  and  faith- 
fulness. 


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McClure's  Magazine. 


Vol.  X. 


DECEMBER,  1897. 


No. 


THE    TOMB    OF    HIS    ANXESTORS. 


By  Rudyard  Kipling, 

Author  of  "The  Jungle  Book,"  "  The  Seven  Seas,"  "Captains  Courageous,"  etc. 


jOME  people  will  tell  you  that  if 

there  were  but  a  single  loaf  of 

bread  in  all  India  it  would  be 

divided   equally  between    the 

Plowdens,    the    Trevors,    the 

Beadons,  and  the  Rivett-Car- 

nacs.     That  is  only  one  way  of 

saying    that  certain    families   serve  India 

generation    after   generation   as   dolphins 

follow  in  line  across  the  open  sea. 

To  take  a  small  and  obscure  case. 
There  has  always  been  at  least  one  repre- 
sentative of  the  Devonshire  Chinns  in  or 
near  Central  India  since  the  days  of  Lieu- 
tenant-Fireworker Humphrey  Chinn,  of 
the  Bombay  European  Regiment,  who  as- 
sisted at  the  capture  of  Seringapatam  in 
1799.  Alfred  Ellis  Chinn,  his  younger 
brother,  commanded  a  regiment  of  Bom- 
bay grenadiers  from  1804  to  18 13,  when 
he  saw  some  mixed  fighting;  and  in  1834, 
one  John  Chinn  of  the  same  family — we 
will  call  him  John  Chinn  the  First — came 
to  light  as  a  level-headed  administrator  in 
time  of  trouble  at  a  place  called  Mundesur. 
He  died  young,  but  he  left  his  mark  on  the 
new  country,  and  the  Honorable  the  Board 
of  Directors  of  the  Honorable  the  East 
India  Company  embodied  his  virtues  in  a 
stately  resolution,  and  paid  for  the  expenses 
of  his  tomb  among  the  Satpura  hills. 

He  was  succeeded  by  his  son,  Lionel 
Ciiinn,  who  left  the  little  old  Devonshire 
home  just  in  time  to  be  severely  wounded 
in  the  Mutiny.  He  spent  his  working  life 
within  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  John 
Chinn's  grave,  and  rose  to  the  command 
of  a  regiment  of  little,  wild  hill-men, 
most  of  whom  had  known  his  father. 
His  son,  John,  was  born  in  the  small 
thatched-roofed,  mud-walled  cantonment, 
which    is   to-day   eighty   miles    from   the 


nearest  railway,  in  the  heart  of  a  scrubby, 
rocky,  tigerish  country.  Colonel  Lionel 
Chinn  served  thirty  years  before  he  re- 
tired. In  the  Canal  his  steamer  passed 
the  outward  bound  troopship,  carrying  his 
son  eastward  to  take  on  the  family  routine. 

The  Chinns  are  luckier  than  most  folk, 
because  they  know  exactly  what  they  must 
do.  A  clever  Chinn  passes  for  the  Bom- 
bay Civil  Service,  and  gets  away  to  Cen- 
tral India,  where  everybody  is  glad  to  see 
him;  a  dull  Chinn  enters  the  Police  De- 
partment or  the  Woods  and  Forest,  and 
sooner  or  later  he,  too,  appears  in  Central 
India,  and  that  is  what  gave  rise  to  the 
saying,  "Central  India  is  inhabited  by 
Bhils,  Mairs,  and  Chinns,  all  very  much 
alike."  The  breed  is  small-boned,  dark, 
and  silent,  and  the  stupidest  of  them  are 
good  shots.  John  Chinn  the  Second  was 
rather  clever,  but  as  the  eldest  son  he  en- 
tered the  army,  according  to  Chinn  tradi- 
tion. His  duty  was  to  abide  in  his  father's 
regiment  for  the  term  of  his  natural  life, 
though  the  corps  was  one  which  most  men 
would  have  paid  heavily  to  avoid.  They 
were  irregulars,  small,  dark,  and  blackish, 
clothed  in  rifle  green  with  black  leather 
trimmings  ;  and  friends  called  them  the 
44  Wuddars,"  which  means  a  race  of  low- 
caste  people  who  dig  up  rats  to  eat;  but 
the  Wuddars  did  not  resent  it.  They  were 
the  only  Wuddars,  and  their  points  of  pride 
were  these: 

Firstly,  they  had  fewer  English  officers 
than  any  native  regiment;  secondly,  their 
subalterns  were  not  mounted  on  parade,  as 
is  the  rule,  but  walked  at  the  head  of  their 
men.  A  man  who  can  hold  his  own  with 
the  Wuddars  at  their  quick-step  must  be 
sound  in  wind  and  limb.  Thirdly,  they 
were  the  most  pukka  shikar ries  (out  and  out 


Copyright,  1897,  by  the  S.  S.  McClure  Co. 


All  rights  reserved. 

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IOO 


THE   TOMB   OF  HIS  ANCESTORS. 


hunters)  in  all  India.  Fourthly — up  to 
one  hundredthly — they  were  the  Wuddars 
— Chinn's  Irregular  Bhil  Levies  of  the  old 
days,  but  now,  henceforward,  and  for  ever, 
the  Wuddars. 

No  Englishman  entered  their  mess  ex- 
cept for  love  or  through  family  usage. 
The  officers  talked  to  their  soldiers  in  a 
tongue  not  two  hundred  folk  in  India  un- 
derstood; and  the  men  were  their  children, 
all  drawn  from  the  Bhils,  who  are,  per- 
haps, the  strangest  of  the  many  strange 
races  in  India.  They  were,  and  at  heart 
are,  wild  men;  furtive,  shy,  full  of  untold 
superstitions. 

The  races  whom  we  call  natives  of  the 
country  found  the  Bhil  in  possession  of 
the  land  when  they  first  broke  into  that 
part  of  the  world  thousands  of  years  ago. 
The  books  call  them  Pre-Aryan,  Aborig- 
inal, Dravidian,  and  so  forth;  and  in  other 
words  that  is  what  the  Bhils  call  them- 
selves. 

When  a  Rajput  chief,  who  can  sing  his 
pedigree  backwards  for  twelve  hundred 
years,  is  set  on  the  throne,  his  investiture 
is  not  complete  or  lawful  till  he  has  been 
marked  on  the  forehead  with  blood  from 
the  veins  of  a  Bhil.  The  Rajputs  say  the 
ceremony  has  no  meaning,  but  the  Bhil 
knows  that  it  is  the  last,  last  shadow  of  his 
old  rights,  as  the  long-ago  owner  of  the 
soil. 

Centuries  of  oppression  and  massacre 
made  the  Bhil  a  cruel  and  half-crazy  thief 
and  cattle-stealer,  and  when  the  English 
came  he  seemed  to  be  almost  as  open  to 
civilization  as  the  tigers  of  his  own  jungles. 
But  John  Chinn  the  First,  with  two  or 
three  other  men,  went  into  his  country, 
lived  with  him,  learned  his  language,  shot 
the  deer  that  stole  his  poor  crops,  and  won 
his  confidence,  so  that  some  Bhils  learned 
to  plow  and  sow,  while  others  were  coaxed 
into  the  Company's  service  to  police  their 
friends. 

When  they  understood  that  standing  in 
line  did  not  mean  instant  murder,  they 
accepted  soldiering  as  a  cumbrous  but 
amusing  kind  of  sport,  and  were  zealous 
to  keep  the  wild  Bhils  under  control.  That 
was  the  thin  edge  of  the  wedge.  John 
Chinn  the  First  gave  them  written  promises 
that,  if  they  were  good  from  a  certain 
date,  the  Government  would  overlook 
previous  offenses;  and  since  John  Chinn 
was  never  known  to  break  his  word — he 
promised  once  to  hang  a  Bhil  locally  es- 
teemed invulnerable,  and  hanged  him  in 
front  of  his  tribe  for  seven  proved  murders 
— the  Bhils  settled  down  as  much  as  they 


knew  how.  It  was  slow,  unseen  work,  of 
the  sort  that  is  being  done  all  over  India 
to-day,  and,  though  John  Chinn's  only  re- 
ward came,  as  I  have  said,  in  the  shape  of 
a  grave  at  Government  expense,  the  people 
of  the  hills  never  forgot  him. 

Colonel  Lionel  Chinn  knew  and  loved 
them  too,  and  they  were  very  fairly  civil- 
ized, for  Bhils,  before  his  service  ended. 
Many  of  them  could  hardly  be  distin- 
guished from  low-caste  Hindu  farmers; 
but  in  the  south,  where  John  Chinn  was 
buried,  the  wildest  of  them  still  clung  to 
the  Satpura  ranges,  cherishing  a  legend 
that  some  day  Jan  Chinn,  as  they  called 
Irim,  would  return  to  his  own,  and  in  the 
meantime  mistrusting  the  white  man  and 
his  ways.  The  least  excitement  would 
stampede  them  at  random,  plundering, 
and  now  and  then  killing  ;  but  if  they  were 
handled  discreetly  they  grieved  like  chil- 
dren, and  promised  never  to  do  it  again. 

The  Bhils  of  the  regiment  were  virtuous 
in  many  ways,  but  they  needed  humoring. 
They  felt  bored  and  homesick  unless  taken 
after  tiger  as  beaters;  and  their  cold- 
blooded daring — all  Wuddars  shoot  tigers 
on  foot:  it  is  their  caste-mark — made  even 
the  officers  wonder.  They  would  follow 
up  a  wounded  tiger  as  unconcernedly  as 
though  it  were  a  sparrow  with  a  broken 
wing;  and  this  through  a  country  full  of 
caves,  and  rifts,  and  pits,  where  a  wild 
beast  could  hold  a  dozen  men  at  his  mercy. 
They  had  their  own  methods  of  smoking 
out  a  tigress  with  her  cubs,  and  would  shout 
and  laugh  while  the  furious  beast  charged 
home  on  the  rifles.  Now  and  then  some 
little  man  was  brought  to  barracks  with  his 
head  smashed  in  or  his  ribs  torn  away ;  but 
his  companions  never  learnt  caution.  They 
contented  themselves  with  settling  the 
tiger. 

Young  John  Chinn  was  decanted  at  the 
veranda  of  the  lonely  mess-house,  from 
the  back  seat  of  a  two-wheeled  cart;  his 
gun-cases  cascading  all  round  him.  The 
slender,  little,  hookey-nosed  boy  looked  as 
forlorn  as  a  strayed  goat,  when  he  slapped 
the  white  dust  off  his  knees,  and  the  cart 
jolted  down  the  glaring  road.  But  in  his 
heart  he  was  contented.  After  all  this  was 
the  place  where  he  had  been  born,  and 
things  were  not  much  changed  since  he 
had  been  sent  to  England,  a  child,  fifteen 
years  ago. 

There  were  one  or  two  new  buildings, 
but  the  air,  and  the  smell,  and  the  sun- 
shine were  the  same  ;  and  the  little  green 
men  who  crossed  the  parade-ground  looked 
very    familiar.      Three    weeks   ago    John 

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RUDYARD  KIPLING.  101 

Chinn  would  have  said  he  did  not  remem-        "  Hope  he'll  shoot  as  close,'*  said  the 

ber  a  word  of  the  Bhil  tongue,  but  at  the  Major.     "  He's  brought  enough  ironmon- 

mess  door  he  found  his  lips  moving  in  sen-  gery  with  him." 

tences  that  he  did  ncrt  understand— bits  of       "Wouldn't   be   a   Chinn    if  he    didn't, 

old  nursery  rhymes  and  tail-ends  of  such  Watch    him    blowin'    his   nose.      Regular 

orders   as   his    father    used     to    give    the  Chinn  beak.     Flourishes  his  handkerchief 

men.  like  his  father.      It's  the  second  e,dition — 

The  Colonel  watched  him  come  up  the  line  for  line." 
steps  and  laughed.  '•  Fairy  tale,  by  Jove!  "  said  the  Major, 

44  Look!  "  he  said  to  the  Major.     "  No  peering  through  the  slats  of  his  jalousies, 

need  to  ask  the  young  un's  breed.      He's  44If    he's  the  lawful  heir,  he'll  .  .  .  Old 

&  pukka  Chinn.      Might  be  his  father  in  the  Chinn  could  no  more  pass  that  chick  with- 

Fifties  over  again."  out  fiddling  with  it  than  ..." 


J 


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102 


THE   TOMB   OF  HIS  ANCESTORS. 


The  Tomb  towards  sunset. 


44  His  son!  "   said  the  Colonel 


jumping 


up. 

44  Well,  I  be  blowed!  "  said  the  Major. 
The  boy's  eye  had  been  caught  by  a  split 
reed  screen  that  hung  on  a  slue  between 
the  veranda  pillars,  and,  mechanically,  he 
had  tweaked  the  edge  to  set  it  level.  Old 
Chinn  had  sworn  three  times  a  day  at  that 
screen  for  many  years;  he  could  never  get 
it  to  his  satisfaction  ;  and  his  son  entered 
the  anteroom  in  the  middle  of  a  five-fold 
silence.  They  made  him  welcome  for  his 
father's  sake,  and,  as  they  took  stock  of 
him,  for  his  own.  He  was  ridiculously 
like  the  portrait  of  the  Colonel  on  the  wall, 
and  when  he  had  washed  a  little  of  the 
dust  from  his  throat  he  went  to  his  quar- 
ters with  the  old  man's  short,  noiseless 
jungle-step. 

44  So  much  for  heredity,"  said  the  Major. 
44  That  comes  of  four  generations  among 
the  Bhils." 

44  And  the  men  know  it,"  said  a  Wing 
officer.  4i  They've  been  waiting  for  this 
youth  with  their  tongues  hanging  out.  I 
am  persuaded  that,  unless  he  absolutely 
beats  'em  over  the  head,  they'll  lie  down 
by  companies  and  worship  him." 


44  Nothin'  like  havin'  a  father  before 
you,"  said  the  Major.  "I'm  a  parvenu 
with  my  chaps.  I've  only  been  twenty 
years  in  the  regiment,  and  my  revered 
parent  was  a  simple  squire.  There's  no 
getting  at  the  bottom  of  a  Bhil's  mind. 
Now,  why  is  the  superior  Mahommedan 
bearer  that  young  Chinn  brought  with  him 
fleeing  across  country  with  his  bundle?" 
He  stepped  into  the  veranda  and  shouted 
after  the  man — a  typical  new-joined  sub- 
altern's servant  who  speaks  English  and 
cheats  in  proportion. 

44  What  is  it?"  he  called. 

44  Plenty  bad  man  here.  I  going,  sar," 
was  the  reply.  44  Have  taken  my  Sahib's 
keys,  and  say  will  shoot." 

44  Doocid  lucid  —  doocid  convincin'. 
How  those  up-country  thieves  can  leg  it! 
Johnny's  been  badly  frightened  by  some 
one."  The  Major  strolled  to  his  quarters 
to  dress  for  mess. 

Young  Chinn,  walking  like  a  man  in  a 
dream,  had  fetched  a  compass  round  the 
entire  cantonment  before  going  to  his  own 
tiny  cottage.  The  captain's  quarters  in 
which  he  had  been  born  delayed  him  for  a 
little;  then  he  looked  at  the  well  on  the 


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RUDYARD  KIPLING. 


*°3 


parade  -  ground,  where  he  had  sat  of 
evenings  with  his  nurse,  and  at  the  ten- 
by-fourteen  church  where  the  officers  went 
to  service  if  a  chaplain  of  any  official 
creed  happened  to  come  along.  It  seemed 
very  small  as  compared  with  the  gigantic 
buildings  he  used  to  look  up  at,  but  it  was 
the  same  place. 

From  time  to  time  he  passed  a  knot  of 
silent  soldiers,  who  saluted,  and  they 
might  have  been  the  very  men  who  had 
carried  him  on  their  backs  when  he  was 
in  his  first  knickerbockers.  A  faint  light 
burned  in  his  room,  and  as  he  entered, 
hands  clasped  his  feet,  and  a  voice  mur- 
mured from  the  floor. 

"Who  is  it?"  said  young  Chinn,  not 
knowing  he  spoke  in  the  Bhil  tongue. 

"  I  bore  you  in  my  arms,  Sahib,  when  I 
was  a  strong  man  and  you  were  a  small 
one — crying,  crying,  crying!  I  am  your 
servant,  as  I  was  your  father's  before  you. 
We  are  all  your  servants." 

Young  Chinn  could  not  trust  himself  to 
reply,  and  the  voice  went  on: 


"  I  have  taken  your  keys  from  that  fat 
foreigner,  and  sent  him  away;  and  the 
studs  are  in  the  shirt  for  mess.  Who 
should  know,  if  I  do  not  know?  And  so 
the  baby  has  become  a  man,  and  forgets 
his  nurse,  but  my  nephew  shall  make  a 
good  servant,  or  1  will  beat  him  twice  a 
day." 

Then  there  rose  up,  with  a  rattle,  as 
straight  as  a  Bhil  arrow,  a  little  white- 
haired  wizened  ape  of  a  man,  with  chain 
and  medals  and  orders  on  his  tunic,  stam- 
mering, saluting,  and  trembling.  Behind 
him,  a  young  and  wiry  Bhil,  in  uniform, 
was  taking  the  trees  out  of  Chinn's  mess- 
boots. 

Chinn 's  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  The 
old  man  held  out  his  keys. 

"  Foreigners  are  bad  people.  He  will 
never  come  back  again.  We  are  all  ser- 
vants of  your  father's  son.  Has  the  Sahib 
forgotten  who  took  him  to  see  the  trapped 
tiger  in  the  village  across  the  river  when 
his  mother  was  so  frightened  and  he  was  so 
brave  ? " 


•  Marked  on  the  forehead  with  blood  from  the  veins  of  the  Bhil.  ' 


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THE   TOMB   OF  HIS  ANCESTORS. 


The  scene  came  back  to  him  in  great 
magic-lantern  flashes.  "  Bukta,"  he  cried, 
and  all  in  a  breath,  "  You  promised  nothing 
should  hurt  me.     Is  it  Bukta  ?  " 

The  man  was  at  his  feet  a  second  time. 
"  He  has  not  forgotten.  He  remembers 
his  own  people  as  his  father  remembered. 
Now  can  I  die.  But  first  I  will  live  and 
show  the  Sahib  how  to  kill  tigers.  That 
that  yonder  is  my  nephew.  If  he  is  not  a 
good  servant,  beat  him  and  send  him  to 
me,  and  I  will  surely  kill  him,  for  now  the 
Sahib  is  with  his  own  people.  Ai,  Jan 
baba.  Jan  baba  !  My  Jan  baba  !  I  will  stay 
here  and  see  that  this  ape  does  his  work 
well.  Take  off  his  boots,  fool.  Sit  down 
upon  the  bed,  Sahib,  and  let  me  look.  It 
is  Jan  Baba." 

He  pushed  forward  the  hilt  of  his  sword 
as  a  sign  of  service,  which  is  an  honor  paid 
only  to  viceroys,  governors,  generals,  or 
to  little  children  whom  one  loves  dearly. 
Chinn  touched  the  hilt  mechanically  with 
three  fingers,  muttering  he  knew  not  what. 
It  happened  to  be  the  old  answer  of  his 
childhood,  when  Bukta  in  play  called  him 
the  little  General  Sahib. 

The  Major's  quarters  were  opposite 
Chinn's,  and  when  he  heard  his  servant 
gasp  with  surprise  he  looked  across  the 
room.  Then  the  Major  sat  on  the  bed  and 
whistled,  for  the  spectacle  of  the  senior 
native  commissioned  officer  of  the  regi- 
ment, an  "unmixed"  Bhil,  a  Companion 
of  the  Order  of  British  India,  with  thirty- 
five  years'  spotless  service  in  the  army, 
and  a  rank  among  his  own  people  superior 
to  that  of  many  Bengal  princelings,  valet- 
ing the  last-joined  subaltern,  was  a  little 
too  much  for  his  nerves. 

The  throaty  bugles  blew  the  Mess-call 
that  has  a  long  legend  behind  it.  First  a 
few  piercing  notes  like  the  shrieks  of  beat- 
ers in  a  far-away  cover,  and  next,  large, 
full,  and  smooth,  the  refrain  of  the  wild 
song:  "And  oh,  and  oh  the  green  pulse 
of  Mundore — Mundore!  " 

"  All  little  children  were  in  bed  when 
the  Sahib  heard  that  call  last,"  said  Bukta, 
passing  Chinn  a  clean  handkerchief.  The 
call  brought  back  memories  of  his  cot 
under  the  mosquito-netting,  his  mother's 
kiss,  and  the  sound  of  footsteps  growing 
fainter  as  he  dropped  asleep  among  his 
men.  So  he  hooked  his  new  mess-jacket, 
and  went  to  dinner  like  a  prince  who  has 
newly  inherited  his  father's  crown. 

Old  Bukta  swaggered  forth  curling  his 
whiskers.  He  knew  his  own  value,  and 
no  money  and  no  rank  within  the  gift  of 
the  Government  would  have  induced  him 


to  put  studs  in  young  officers'  shirts,  or  to 
hand  them  clean  ties.  Yet,  when  he  took 
off  his  uniform  that  night,  and  squatted 
among  his  fellows  for  a  quiet  smoke,  he 
told  them  what  he  had  done,  and  they  said 
that  he  was  entirely  right.  Thereat  Bukta 
propounded  a  theory  which  to  a  white  mind 
would  have  seemed  raving  insanity;  but 
the  whispering,  level-headed  little  men  of 
war  considered  it  from  every  point  of 
view,  and  thought  that  there  might  be  a 
great  deal  in  it. 

At  mess  under  the  oil  lamps  the  talk 
turned  as  usual  to  the  unfailing  subject  of 
shikar — big  game  shooting  of  every  kind 
and  under  all  sorts  of  conditions.  Young 
Chinn  opened  his  eyes  when  he  understood 
that  each  one  of  his  companions  had  shot 
several  tigers  in  the  Wuddar  style — on 
foot,  that  is — and  made  no  more  of  the 
business  than  if  the  brute  had  been  a  dog. 

"  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,"  said  the 
Major,  "  a  tiger  is  almost  as  dangerous  as 
a  porcupine.  But  the  tenth  time  you  come 
home  feet  first." 

That  set  all  talking,  and  long  before 
midnight  Chinn's  brain  was  in  a  whirl 
with  stories  of  tigers — man-eaters  and  cat- 
tle-killers each  pursuing  his  own  business 
as  methodically  as  clerks  in  an  office;  new 
tigers  that  had  lately  come  into  such-and- 
such  a  district;  and  old,  friendly  beasts 
of  great  cunning,  known  by  nicknames  in 
the  mess — such  as  "  Puggy,"  who  was  lazy, 
with  huge  paws,  and  "Mrs.  Malaprop," 
who  turned  up  when  you  never  expected 
her,  and  made  female  noises.  Then  they 
spoke  of  Bhil  superstitions,  a  wide  and 
picturesque  field,  till  young  Chinn  hinted 
that  they  must  be  pulling  his  leg. 

"  'Deed  we  aren't,"  said  a  man  on  his 
left.  "We  know  all  about  you.  You're 
a  Chinn  and  ail  that,  and  you've  a  sort 
of  vested  right  here  ;  but  if  you  don't 
believe  what  we're  telling  you,  what  will 
you  do  when  old  Bukta  begins  his  stories  ? 
He  knows  about  ghost  tigers,  and  tigers 
that  go  to  a  hell  of  their  own;  and  tigers 
that  walk  on  their  hind  feet;  and  your 
grandpapa's  riding-tiger  as  well.  Odd  he 
hasn't  spoken  of  that  yet." 

"  You  know  you've  an  ancestor  buried 
down  Satpura  way,  don't  you  ?"  said  the 
Major,  as  Chinn  smiled  irresolutely. 

"Of  course  I  do,"  said  Chinn,  who 
knew  the  chronicle  of  the  Book  of  Chinns 
by  heart. 

"  Well,  I  wasn't  sure.  Your  revered 
ancestor,  my  boy,  according  to  the  Bhils, 
has  a  tiger  of  his  own — a  saddle-tiger  that 
he  rides  round  the  country  whenever  he 


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*  Ufn  his  bat* 


ail  men  had  seen  the  same  angry  Flying  Cloud  that  the  high  Gods  had  set  on  the  .flesh  of  Jan  Chinn  the  First." 


feels  inclined.  I  don't  call  it  decent  in  an 
ex-collector's  ghost;  but  that  is  what  the 
Southern  Bhils  believe.  Even  our  men, 
who  might  be  called  moderately  rash,  don't 
care  to  beat  that  country  if  they  hear  that 
Jan  Chinn  is  running  about  on  his  tiger. 
It  is  supposed  to  be  a  clouded  animal — 
not  stripy,  but  blotchy,  like  a  tortoise- 
shell  tom-cat.  No  end  of  a  brute,  it  is,  and 
a  sure  sign  of  war  or  pestilence  or — or 
something.  There's  a  nice  family  legend 
for  you." 


••  What's  the  origin  of  it,  d'you  sup- 
pose ?  "  said  Chinn. 

"Ask  the  Satpura  Bhils.  Old  Jan 
Chinn  was  a  mighty  hunter  before  the 
Lord.  Perhaps  it  was  the  tiger's  revenge, 
or  perhaps  he's  huntin'  'em  still.  You 
must  go  to  his  tomb  one  of  these  days 
and  inquire.  Bukta  will  probably  attend 
to  that.  He  was  asking  me  before  you 
came  whether  by  any  ill-luck  you  had 
already  bagged  your  tiger.  If  not,  he  is 
going  to  enter  yo^u.nd^r  ©tfjggfiBg- 


io6 


THE    TOMB   OF  HIS  ANCESTORS, 


Of  course,  for  you  of  all  men,  it's  impera- 
tive. You'll  have  a  first-class  time  with 
Bukta." 

The  Major  was  not  wrong.  Bukta  kept 
an  anxious  eye  on  young  Chinn  at  drill, 
and  it  was  noticeable  that  the  first  time 
the  new  officer  lifted  up  his  voice  in  an 
order  the  whole  line  quivered.  Even  the 
Colonel  was  taken  aback,  for  it  might  have 
been  Colonel  Lionel  Chinn  returned  from 
Devonshire  with  a  new  lease  of  life.  Bukta 
had  continued  to  develop  his  peculiar 
theory,  and  it  was  almost  accepted  as  a 
matter  of  faith  in  the  lines,  since  every 
word  and  gesture  on  young  Chinn's  part 
so  confirmed  it. 

The  old  man  arranged  early  that  his 
darling  should  wipe  out  the  reproach  of 
not  having  shot  a  tiger;  but  he  was  not 
content  to  take  the  first  or  any  beast  that 
happened  to  arrive.  In  his  own  villages 
he  dispensed  the  high,  low,  and  middle 
justice,  and  when  his  people — naked  and 
fluttered — came  to  him  with  word  of  a 
beast  marked  down,  he  bade  them  send 
spies  to  the  kills  and  the  watering-places 
that  he  might  be  sure  the  quarry  was  such 
an  one  as  suited  the  dignity  of  such  a 
man. 

Three  or  four  times  the  reckless  track- 
ers returned,  most  truthfully  saying  that 
the  beast  was  mangy,  undersized;  a  tigress 
worn  with  nursing  or  a  broken-toothed  old 
male,  and  Bukta  would  curb  young  Chinn's 
impatience. 

At  last,  a  noble  animal  was  marked 
down — a  ten-foot  cattle-killer  with  a  huge 
roll  of  loose  skin  along  the  belly,  glossy- 
hided,  full-frilled  about  the  neck,  whisk- 
ered, frisky,  and  young.  He  had  slain  a 
man  in  sport,  they  said. 

44  Let  him  be  fed,"  quoth  Bukta,  and  the 
villagers  dutifully  drove  out  a  cow  to  amuse 
him,  that  he  might  lie  up  near  by. 

Princes  and  potentates  have  taken  ship 
to  India,  and  spent  great  moneys  for  the 
mere  glimpse  of  beasts  one-half  as  fine  as 
this  of  Bukta's. 

44  It  is  not  good,"  said  he  to  the  Colo- 
nel, when  he  asked  for  shooting-leave, 
44  that  my  Colonel's  son  who  may  be — that 
my  Colonel's  son  should  lose  his  maiden- 
head on  any  small  jungle  beast.  That  may 
come  after.  I  have  waited  long  for  this 
which  is  a  tiger.  He  has  come  in  from 
the  Mair  country.  In  seven  days  we  will 
return  with  the  skin." 

The  mess  gnashed  their  teeth  enviously. 
Bukta,  had  he  chosen,  might  have  asked 
them  all.  But  he  went  out  alone  with 
Chinn,  two  days  in  a  shooting-cart  and  a 


day  on  foot  tili  they  came  to  a  rocky, 
glary  valley,  with  a  pool  of  good  water  in 
it.  It  was  a  parching  day,  and  the  boy 
very  naturally  stripped  and  went  in  for  a 
bathe,  leaving  Bukta  by  the  clothes.  A 
white  skin  shows  far  against  brown  jungle, 
and  what  Bukta  beheld  on  Chinn's  back 
and  right  shoulder  dragged  him  forward 
step  by  step  with  staring  eyeballs. 

44  I'd  forgotten  it  isn't  decent  to  strip 
before  a  man  of  his  position,"  said  Chinn, 
flouncing  in  the  water.  "  How  the  little 
devil  stares!     What  is  it,  Bukta  ?  " 

44  The  Mark!"  was  the  whispered  an- 
swer. 

44  It  is  nothing.  It  was  born  on  me. 
You  know  how  it  is  with  my  people!  " 
Chinn  was  annoyed.  The  dull  red  birth- 
mark on  his  shoulder,  something  like  the 
conventionalized  Tartar  cloud,  had  slipped 
his  memory  or  he  would  not  have  bathed. 
It  appeared,  so  they  said  at  home,  in  alter- 
nate generations,  and  was  not  pretty.  He 
hurried  ashore,  dressed  again,  and  went 
on  till  they  met  two  or  three  Bhils,  who 
promptly  fell  on  their  faces.  4  4 My  people, ' ' 
grunted  Bukta,  not  condescending  to 
notice  them.  44And  so  your  people, 
Sahib.  When  I  was  a  young  man  we  were 
fewer  but  not  so  weak.  Now  we  are  many, 
but  poor  stock.  As  may  be  remembered. 
How  will  you  shoot  him,  Sahib  ?  From  a 
tree;  from  a  shelter  which  my  people  shall 
build;  by  day  or  by  night  ?  " 

44  On  foot  and  in  the  daytime,"  said 
Young  Chinn. 

44  That  was  your  custom,  as  I  have 
heard,"  said  Bukta  to  himself.  44  I  will 
get  news  of  him.  Then  you  and  I  will  go 
to  him.  I  will  carry  one  gun.  Y'ou  have 
yours.  There  is  no  need  of  more.  What 
tiger  shall  stand  against  thee" 

He  was  marked  down  by  a  little  water- 
hole  at  the  head  of  a  ravine;  full-gorged 
and  half  asleep  in  the  May  sunlight.  He 
was  walked  up  like  a  partridge,  and  he 
turned  to  do  battle  for  his  life.  Bukta 
made  no  motion  to  raise  his  rifle,  but  kept 
his  eyes  on  Chinn,  who  met  the  shattering 
roar  of  the  charge  with  a  single  shot — it 
seemed  to  him  hours  as  he  sighted — 
which  tore  through  the  throat,  smashing 
the  backbone  below  the  neck  and  between 
the  shoulders.  The  brute  couched, 
choked,  and  fell,  and  before  Chinn  knew 
well  what  had  happened  Bukta  bade  him 
stay  still  while  he  paced  the  distance  be- 
tween his  feet  and  the  ringing  jaws. 

44  Fifteen,"  said  Bukta.  <4  Short  paces. 
No  need  for  a  second  shot,  Sahib.  He 
bleeds  cleanly  where  he  lies,  and  we  need 


ne< 

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not  spoil  the  skin.  I  said  there  would  be 
no  need  of  these,  but  they  came  in  case." 

Suddenly  the  sides  of  the  ravine  were 
crowned  with  the  heads  of  Bukta's  peo- 
ple— a  force  that  could  have  blown  the 
ribs  out  of  the  beast  had  Chinn's  shot 
failed;  but  their  guns  were  hidden,  and 
they  appeared  as  interested  beaters;  some 
five  or  six  waiting  the  word  to  skin. 
Bukta  watched  the  life  fade  from  the  eyes, 
lifted  one  hand,  and  turned  on  his  heel. 

44  No  need  to  show  we  care,"  said  he. 
•'  Now,  after  this,  we  can  kill  what  we 
choose.     Put  out  your  hand,  Sahib." 

Chinn  obeyed.  It  was  entirely  steady, 
and  Bukta  nodded.  "  That  also  was  your 
custom.  My  men  skin  quickly.  They 
will  carry  the  skin  to  cantonments.  Will 
the  Sahib  come  to  my  poor  village  for  the 
night  and,  perhaps,  forget  I  am  his  offi- 
cer ? ' ' 

44  But  those  men — the  beaters.  They 
have  worked  hard,  and  perhaps — " 

44  Oh,  if  they  skin  clumsily,  we  will  skin 
them.  They  are  my  people.  In  the  lines 
I  am  one  thing.     Here  I  am  another." 

This  was  very  true.  When  Bukta  doffed 
uniform  and  reverted  to  the  fragmentary 
dress  of  his  own  people,  he  left  his  civili- 
zation of  drill  in  the  next  world.  That 
night,  after  a  little  talk  with  his  subjects, 
he  devoted  to  an  orgie;  and  a  Bhil  orgie 
is  a  thing  not  to  be  safely  written  about. 
Chinn,  flushed  with  triumph,  was  in  the 
thick  of  it,  but  the  meaning  of  the  mys- 
teries was  hidden.  Wild  folk  came  and 
pressed  about  his  knees  with  offerings. 
He  gave  his  flask  to  the  elders  of  the  vil- 
lage. They  grew  eloquent,  and  wreathed 
him  about  with  flowers:  gifts  and  loans, 
not  all  seemly,  were  thrust  upon  him,  and 
infernal  music  rolled  and  maddened  round 
red  fires,  while  singers  sang  songs  of  the 
ancient  times,  and  danced  peculiar  dances. 
The  aboriginal  liquors  are  very  potent,  and 
Chinn  was  compelled  to  taste  them  often, 
but,  unless  the  stuff  had  been  drugged, 
how  came  he  to  fall  asleep  suddenly,  and 
to  waken  late  the  next  day — half  a  march 
from  the  village  ? 

44  The  Sahib  was  very  tired.  A  little  be- 
fore dawn  he  went  to  sleep,"  Bukta  ex- 
plained. 4*  My  people  carried  him  here, 
and  now  it  is  time  we  should  go  back  to 
cantonments." 

The  voice,  smooth  and  deferential,  the 
step  steady  and  silent,  made  it  hard  to  be- 
lieve that  only  a  few  hours  before  Bukta 
was  yelling  and  capering  with  naked  fel- 
low-devils of  the  scrub. 

'■  My  people  were  very  pleased  to  see  the 


Sahib.  They  will  never  forget.  When 
next  the  Sahib  goes  out  recruiting,  he  will 
go  to  my  people,  and  they  will  give  him 
as  many  men  as  we  need." 

Chinn  kept  his  own  counsel  except  as  to 
the  shooting  of  the  tiger,  and  Bukta  em- 
broidered that  tale  with  a  shameless 
tongue.  The  skin  was  certainly  one  of 
the  finest  ever  hung  up  in  the  mess,  and 
the  first  of  many.  If  Bukta  could  not 
accompany  his  boy  on  shooting-trips,  he 
took  care  to  put  him  in  good  hands,  and 
Chinn  learned  more  of  the  mind  and  desire 
of  the  wild  Bhil  in  his  marches  and  camp- 
ings; by  talks  at  twilight  or  at  wayside 
pools;  than  an  uninstructed  man  could 
have  come  at  in  a  lifetime. 

Presently  his  men  in  the  regiment  grew 
bold  to  speak  of  their  relatives — mostly 
in  trouble — and  to  lay  cases  of  tribal 
custom  before  him.  They  would  say, 
squatting  in  his  veranda  at  twilight,  after 
the  easy,  confidential  style  of  the  Wrddars, 
that  such-and-such  a  bachelor  had  run  away 
with  such-and-such  a  wife  at  a  far-off  vil- 
lage. Now,  how  many  cows  would  Chinn 
Sahib  consider  a  just  fine?  Or,  again,  if 
written  order  came  from  the  Government 
that  a  Bhil  was  to  repair  to  a  walled  city 
of  the  plains  to  give  evidence  in  a  law 
court,  would  it  be  wise  to  disregard  that 
order  ?  On  the  other  hand,  if  it  were 
obeyed,  would  the  rash  voyager  return 
alive  ? 

44  But  what  have  I  to  do  with  these 
things?"  Chinn  demanded  of  Bukta  im- 
patiently. "I  am  a  soldier.  I  do  not 
know  the  law." 

44  Hoo!  Law  is  for  fools  and  white 
men.  Give  them  a  large  and  loud  order, 
and  they  will  abide  by  it.  Thou  art  their 
law." 

44  But  wherefore  ?  " 

Every  trace  of  expression  left  Bukta's 
countenance.  The  idea  might  have  smit- 
ten him  for  the  first  time.  "  How  can  I 
say  ?  "  he  replied.  "  Perhaps  it  is  on  ac- 
count of  the  name.  A  Bhil  does  not  love 
strange  things.  Give  them  orders,  Sahib 
— two,  three,  four  words  at  a  time  such  as 
they  can  carry  away  in  their  heads.  That 
is  enough." 

Chinn  gave  orders,  then,  valiantly;  not 
realizing  that  a  word  spoken  in  haste  be- 
fore mess  became  the  dread  unappealable 
law  of  villages  beyond  the  smoky  hills 
— was  in  truth  no  less  than  the  Law  of  Jan 
Chinn  the  First;  and  who,  so  the  whispered 
legend  ran,  had  come  back  to  earth,  to 
oversee  the  third  generation,  in  the  body 
and  bones  of  his  grandscn.  r 

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io8 


THE  TOMB   OF  HIS  ANCESTORS. 


There  could  be  no  sort  of  doubt  in  this 
matter.  All  the  Bhils  knew  that  Jan 
Chinn  reincarnated  had  honored  Bukta's 
village  with  his  presence  after  slaying  his 
first — in  this  life — tiger.  That  he  had 
eaten  and  drunk  with  the  people,  as  he 
was  used;  and — Bukta  must  have  drugged 
Chinn's  liquor  very  deeply — upon  his  back 
and  right  shoulder  all  men  had  seen  the 
same  angry  red  Flying  Cloud  that  the  high 
Gods  had  set  on  the  flesh  of  Jan  Chinn  the 
First  when  first  he  came  to  the  Bhil.  As 
concerned  the  foolish  white  world  which 
has  no  eyes,  he  was  a  slim  and  young  officer 
in  the  Wuddars;  but  his  own  people  knew 
he  was  Jan  Chinn  who  had  made  the  Bhil  a 
man ;  and,  believing,  they  hastened  to  carry 
his  words,  careful  never  to  alter  them  on 
the  way. 

Because  the  savage  and  the  child  who 
plays   lonely   games   have  one    horror    of 


being  laughed  at  or  questioned,  the  little 
folk  kept  their  convictions  to  themselves, 
and  the  Colonel,  who  thought  he  knew  his 
regiment,  never  guessed  that  each  one  of 
the  six  hundred  quick-footed,  beady-eyed 
rank-and-file,  to  attention  beside  their 
rifles,  believed  serenely  and  unshakenly 
that  the  subaltern  on  the  left  flank  of  the 
line  was  a  demi-god  twice  born ;  a  tutelary 
deity  of  their  land  and  people.  The  Earth- 
gods  themselves  had  stamped  the  incarna- 
tion, and  who  would  dare  to  doubt  the 
handiwork  of  the  Earth-gods  ? 

Chinn,  being  practical  above  all  things, 
saw  that  his  family  name  served  him  well 
in  the  lines  and  in  camp.  His  men  gave 
no  trouble — one  does  not  commit  regi- 
mental offenses  with  a  god  in  the  chair  of 
justice — and  he  was  sure  of  the  best  beat- 
ers in  the  district  when  he  needed  them. 
They  believed  that  the  protection  of  Jan 


"  Bukta  salaamed  reverently  as  they  affroatked. 


Chinn  bared  his  head  and  began  to  pick  out  the  blurred  inscri/ti 

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RUDYARD  KIPLING. 


109 


Chinn  the  First  cloaked  them,  and  were 
bold  in  that  belief  beyond  the  utmost 
daring  of  excited  Bhils. 

Chinn's  quarters  began  to  look  like  an 
amateur  natural  history  museum,  in  spite 
of  the  heads  and  horns  and  skulls  he  sent 
home  to  Devonshire.  The  people,  very 
humanly,  learned  the  weak  side  of  their 
god.  It  is  true  he  was  unbribable,  but 
bird  skins,  butterflies,  beetles,  and,  above 
all,  news  of  big  game  pleased  him.  In 
other  respects,  too,  he  lived  up  to  the 
Chinn  tradition.  He  was  fever-proof.  A 
night's  sitting  out  over  a  tethered  goat  in 
a  damp  valley,  that  would  have  filled  the 
Major  with  a  month's  malaria,  had  no 
effect  on  him.  He  was,  as  they  said, 
"  salted  before  he  was  born." 

Now  in  the  autumn  of  his  second  year's 
service  an  uneasy  rumor  crept  out  of  the 
earth  and  ran  about  among  the  Bhils. 
Chinn  heard  nothing  of  it  till  a  brother 
officer  said  across  the  mess  table:  "  Your 
revered  ancestor's  on  the  rampage  in  the 
Satpura  country.  You'd  better  look  him 
up." 

" 1  don't  want  to  be  disrespectful,  but 
I'm  a  little  sick  of  my  revered  ancestor. 
Bukta  talks  of  nothing  else.  What's  the 
old  boy  supposed  to  be  doing  now  ? " 

44  Riding  cross-country  by  moonlight  on 
his  processional  tiger.  That's  the  story. 
He's  been  seen  by  about  two  thousand 
Bhils,  skipping  along  the  tops  of  the  Sat- 
puras  and  scaring  people  to  death.  They 
believe  it  devoutly,  and  all  the  Satpura 
chaps  are  worshiping  away  at  his  shrine 
—  tomb,  I  mean  —  like  good  *uns.  You 
really  ought  to  go  down  there.  Must  be 
a  queer  thing  to  see  your  grandfather 
treated  as  a  god." 

44  What  makes  you  think  there's  any 
truth  in  the  tale  ?"  said  Chinn. 

"  Because  all  our  men  deny  it.  They 
say  they've  never  heard  of  Chinn's  tiger. 
Now  that's  a  manifest  lie,  because  every 
Bhil&w." 

44  There's  only  one  thing  you've  over- 
looked," said  the  Colonel  thoughtfully. 
"  When  a  local  god  reappears  on  earth, 
it's  always  an  excuse  for  trouble  of  some 
kind;  and  those  Satpura  Bhils  are  about 
as  wild  as  your  grandfather  left  them, 
young  'un.     It  means  something." 

"  Meanin'  the  Satpura  Bhils  may  go  on 
the  war-path  ?  "  said  Chinn. 

"  Can't  say — as  yet.  Shouldn't  be  sur- 
prised a  little  bit." 

"  I  haven't  been  told  a  syllable." 

"  Proves  it  all  the  more.  They  are 
keeping  something  back." 


"Bukta  tells  me  everything,  too,  as 
a  rule.  Now,  why  didn't  he  tell  me 
that?" 

Chinn  put  the  question  directly  to  the 
old  man  that  night,  and  the  answer  sur- 
prised him. 

11  Why  should  I  tell  what  is  well  known  ? 
Yes,  the  Clouded  Tiger  is  out  in  the  Sat- 
pura country." 

44  What  do  the  wild  Bhils  think  that  it 
means  ? " 

44  They  do  not  know.  They  wait.  Sa- 
hib, what  is  coming  ?  Say  only  one  little 
word,  and  we  will  be  content." 

44  We  ?  What  have  tales  from  the  South, 
where  the  jungly  Bhils  live,  to  do  with 
drilled  men  ?  " 

44  When  Jan  Chinn  wakes  is  no  time  for 
any  Bhil  to  be  quiet." 

44  But  he  has  not  waked,  Bukta." 

44  Sahib,"  the  old  man's  eyes  were  full 
of  tender  reproof,  "if  he  does  not  wish 
to  be  seen,  why  does  he  go  abroad  in  the 
moonlight  ?  We  know  he  is  awake,  but 
we  do  not  know  what  he  desires.  Is  it  a 
sign  for  all  the  Bhils,  or  one  that  concerns 
the  Satpura  folk  alone  ?  Say  one  little 
word,  Sahib,  that  I  may  carry  it  to  the 
lines,  and  send  on  to  our  villages.  Why 
does  Jan  Chinn  ride  out  ?  Who  has  done 
wrong  ?  Is  it  pestilence  ?  Is  it  murrain  ? 
Will  our  children  die?  Is  it  a  sword? 
Remember,  Sahib,  we  are  thy  people  and 
thy  servants,  and  in  this  life  I  bore  thee  in 
my  arms — not  knowing." 

44  Bukta  has  evidently  looked  on  the  cup 
this  evening,"  Chinn  thought;  "but  if  I 
can  do  anything  to  soothe  the  old  chap  I 
must.  It's  like  the  Mutiny  rumors  on  a 
small  scale." 

He  dropped  into  a  deep  wicker  chair, 
over  which  was  thrown  his  first  tiger-skin, 
and  his  weight  on  the  cushion  flapped  the 
clawed  paws  over  his  shoulders.  He  laid 
hold  of  them  mechanically  as  he  spoke, 
drawing  the  painted  hide  cloak-fashion 
about  him. 

44  Now  will  I  tell  the  truth,  Bukta,"  he 
said,  leaning  forward,  the  dried  muzzle  on 
his  shoulder,  to  invent  a  specious  lie. 

44 1  see  that  it  is  the  truth,"  was  the  an- 
swer in  a  shaking  voice. 

44  Jan  Chinn  goes  abroad  among  the 
Satpuras,  riding  on  the  Clouded  Tiger,  ye 
say  ?  Be  it  so.  Therefore  the  sign  of  the 
wonder  is  for  the  Satpura  Bhils  only,  and 
does  not  touch  the  Bhils  who  plow  in  the 
north  and  east,  the  Bhils  of  the  Khan- 
desh,  or  any  others,  except  the  Satpura 
Bhils,  who,  as  we  know,  are  wild  and  fool- 
ish." 


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THE   TOMB   OF  HIS  ANCESTORS. 


"  It  is,  then,  a  sign  for  them.  Good  or 
bad?" 

44  Beyond  doubt,  good.  For  why  should 
Jan  Chinn  make  evil  to  those  whom  he  has 
made  men  ?  The  nights  over  yonder  are 
hot;  it  is  ill  to  lie  in  one  bed  over  long 
without  turning,  and  Jan  Chinn  would 
look  again  upon  his  people.  So  he  rises, 
whistles  his  Clouded  Tiger,  and  goes 
abroad  a  little  to  breathe  the  cool  air. 
If  the  Satpura  Bhils  kept  to  their  vil- 
lages, and  did  not  wander  after  dark, 
they  would  not  see  him.  Indeed,  Bukta, 
it  is  no  more  than  that  he  would  see  the 
light  again  in  his  own  country.  Send  this 
news  south,  and  say  that  it  is  my  word." 

Bukta  bowed  to  the  floor.  "  Good 
Heavens!"  thought  Chinn,  "and  this 
blinking  pagan  is  a  first-class  officer  and 
as  straight  as  a  die!  I  may  as  well  round 
it  off  neatly."     He  went  on: 

"And  if  the  Satpura  Bhils  ask  the 
meaning  of  the  sign,  tell  them  that  Jan 
Chinn  would  see  how  they  kept  their  old 
promises  of  good  living.  Perhaps  they 
have  plundered,  perhaps  they  mean  to  dis- 
obey the  orders  of  the  Government;  per- 
haps there  is  a  dead  man  in  the  jungle, 
and  so  Jan  Chinn  has  come  to  see." 

44  Is  he  then  angry  ? " 

"Bah!  Am  /  ever  angry  with  my 
Bhils  ?  I  say  angry  words,  and  threaten 
many  things.  Thou  knowest,  Bukta.  I 
have  seen  thee  smile  behind  the  hand.  I 
know,  and  thou  knowest.  The  Bhils  are 
my  children.     I  have  said  it  many  times." 

44  Ay.    We  be  thy  children,"  said  Bukta. 

44  And  no  otherwise  is  it  with  Jan  Chinn, 
my  father's  father.  He  would  see  the  land 
he  loved  and  the  people  once  again.  It  is 
a  good  ghost,  Bukta.  I  say  it.  Go  and 
tell  them.  And  I  do  hope  devoutly,"  he 
added,  "that  it  will  calm  'em  down." 
Flinging  back  the  tiger-skin,  he  rose  with 
a  long,  unguarded  yawn  that  showed  his 
well  -  kept  teeth.  Bukta  fled,  to  be  re- 
ceived in  the  lines  by  a  knot  of  panting 
inquirers. 

44  It  is  true,"  said  Bukta.  "  He  wrapped 
himself  in  the  skin,  and  spoke  from  it. 
He  would  see  his  own  country  again.  The 
sign  is  not  for  us;  and,  indeed,  he  is  a 
young  man.  How  should  he  lie  idle  of 
nights  ?  He  says  his  bed  is  too  hot  and 
the  air  is  bad.  He  goes  to  and  fro  for  the 
love  of  night-running.     He  has  said  it." 

The  gray-whiskered  assembly  shud- 
dered. 

44  He  says  the  Bhils  are  his  children. 
Ye  know  he  does  not  lie.  He  has  said  it  to 
me." 


44  But  what  of  the  Satpura  Bhils  ?  What 
means  the  sign  for  them  ?  " 

44  Nothing.  It  is  only  night-running,  as 
I  have  said.  He  rides  to  see  if  they  obey 
the  Government,  as  he  taught  them  in  his 
first  life." 

44  And  what  if  they  do  not  ?  " 

44  He  did  not  say." 

The  light  went  out  in  Chinn's  quarters. 

44  Look,"  said  Bukta.  "  Now  he  goes 
away.  None  the  less  it  is  a  good  ghost, 
as  he  has  said.  How  shall  we  fear  Jan 
Chinn  who  made  the  Bhil  a  man  ?  His 
protection  is  on  us;  and  ye  know  Jan 
Chinn  never  broke  a  protection  spoken  or 
written  on  paper.  When  he  is  older  and 
has  found  him  a  wife  he  will  lie  in  his  bed 
till  morning." 

A  commanding  officer  is  generally 
aware  of  the  regimental  state  of  mind  a 
little  before  the  men  ;  and  this  is  why 
the  Colonel  said,  a  few  days  later,  that 
some  one  had  been  putting  the  Pear  of 
God  into  the  Wuddars.  As  he  was  the 
only  person  officially  entitled  to  do  this,  it 
distressed  him  to  see  such  unanimous  vir- 
tue. "It's  too  good  to  last,"  he  said. 
44  I  only  wish  I  could  find  out  what  the 
little  chaps  mean." 

The  explanation,  as  it  seemed  to  him, 
came  at  the  change  of  the  moon,  when 
he  received  orders  to  hold  himself  in  readi- 
ness to  "  allay  any  possible  excitement" 
among  the  Satpura  Bhils,  who  were,  to  put 
it  mildly,  uneasy  because  a  paternal  Gov- 
ernment had  sent  up  against  them  a  Mah- 
ratta  State-educated  vaccinator,  with  lan- 
cets, lymph,  and  an  officially  registered 
calf.  In  the  language  of  State  they  had 
44  manifested  a  strong  objection  to  all 
prophylactic  measures,"  had  "  forcibly 
detained  the  vaccinator,"  and  "were  on 
the  point  of  neglecting  or  evading  their 
tribal  obligations." 

44  That  means  they  are  in  a  blue  funk — 
same  as  they  were  at  census  time,"  said 
the  Colonel;  "and  if  we  stampede  them 
into  the  hills  we'll  never  catch  'em,  in  the 
first  place,  and  in  the  second  they'll  whoop 
off  plundering  till  further  orders.  Wonder 
who  the  God-forsaken  idiot  is  who  is  trying 
to  vaccinate  a  Bhil.  I  knew  trouble  was 
coming.  One  good  thing  is  they'll  only 
use  local  corps,  and  we  can  knock  up  some- 
thing we'll  call  a  campaign  and  let  them, 
down  easy.  Fancy  us  potting  our  best 
beaters  because  they  don't  want  to  be  vac- 
cinated!    They're  only  crazy  with  fear." 

44  Don't  you  think,  sir,"  said  Chinn  the 
next  day,  "that,  perhaps,  you  could  give 
me  a  fortnight's  shooting-leave  ?  " 


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RUDYARD  KIPLING. 


WaV   SOUth    "  VMcinatittg  the  Satpura  Bkils. 

"  I'd  like  to  take  Bukta  with  me."  "  I  think  so,  sir;  but  if — if  they  should 

"Of  course,  yes.     I  think  that  will  be  accidentally  put  an  arrow  through  me — 

the  best  plan.    You've  some  kind  of  hered-  make  asses  of  'emselves — they  might,  you 

itary  influence  with  the   little  chaps,   and  know — I  hope  .you'll  represent  that  they 

they  may  listen  to  you  when  a  glimpse  of  were  only  frightened.    There  isn't  an  ounce 

our    uniforms    would    drive    them    wild,  of  real  vice  in 'em,  and  I  should  never  for- 

You've  never  been  in  that  part  of  the  world  give  myself  if  anyone  of — of  my  name  got 

before,  have  you  ?      Take  care  they  don't  them  into  trouble." 

send   you    to    your    family  vault    in    your  The  Colonel  podded,  but  said  nothing, 

youth  and  innocence.      I  oelieve  you'll  be  Chinn    and    Bukta    departed    at    once, 

all  right  if  you  can  get  'em  to  listen  to  Bukta   did    not    say  that,  ever   since    the 

you."  official  vaccinator  had  been  dragged  into 


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112 


THE   TOMB  OF  HIS  ANCESTORS. 


the  hills  by  in- 
dignant Bhils, 
runner  after  run- 
ner had  skulked 
up  to  the  lines, 
entreating,  with 
forehead  in  the 
dust,  that  Jan 
Chinn  should 
come  and  ex- 
plain this  un- 
known horror 
that  hung  over 
his  people. 

The  portent  of 
the  Clouded  Ti- 
ger was  now  too 
clear.  Let  Jan 
Chinn  comfort 
his  own,  for  vain 
was  the  help  of 
mortal  man. 
Bukta  toned 
down  these  be- 
seech in  gs  to  a 
simple  request 
for  Chinn's  pres- 
ence. Nothing 
would  have 
pleased  the  old 
man  better  than 
a  rough  and 
tumble  cam- 
paign against 
the  Satpuras, 
whom  he,  as  an 
"  unmixed  " 
Bhil,  despised  ; 
but  he  had  a 
duty  to  all  his 
nation  as  Jan 
Chinn's  inter- 
preter ;  and  he 
devoutly  be- 
lieved that  forty 
plagues  would 
fall  on  his  vil- 
lage if  he  tam- 
pered with  that 
obligation.  Be- 
sides, Jan  Chinn 
knew  all  things, 
and  he  rode  the 
Clouded  Tiger. 

They  covered 
thirty  miles  a 
day  on  foot  and 
pony,  raising 
the  blue  wall- 
like line  of 
the  Satpuras  as 


•  One  climbed  into  a  tree  and  stuck  the  letter  in  a  cleft  forty  feet  from  the  ground." 


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RUDYARD  KIPLING.  113 

swiftly    as   might    be.      Bukta   was   very  little  share.      He  must  have  been  a  man 

silent.  worth  knowing  .  .  .  Bukta,  where  are  my 

They  began  the  steep  climb  a  little  after  people  ?  " 

noon,    but    it   was  near  sunset  ere   they  "  Not  here,  Sahib.     No  man  comes  here 

reached  the  stone  platform  clinging  to  the  except    in   full   sun.      They   wait   above, 

side  of  a  rifted,  jungle-covered  hill,  where  Let  us  climb  and  see." 

Jan  Chinn  the  First  was  laid,  as  he  had  de-  But  Chinn,  remembering  the  first  law  of 

sired,  that  he  might  overlook  his  people.  Oriental  diplomacy,  in  an  even  voice  an- 

All  India  is  full  of  neglected  graves  that  swered:  "I  have  come  this  far  only  be- 

date   from   the    beginning   of    the   eight-  cause  the  Satpura  folk  are  foolish,   and 

eenth  century — tombs  of  forgotten  colo-  dared  not  visit  our  lines.     Now  bid  them 

nels  of  corps  long  since  disbanded;  mates  wait  on  me  here.     I  am  not  a  servant,  but 

of  East  Indiamen   who  went  on  snooting  a  master  of  Bhils." 

expeditions  and  never  came  back;  factors;  "I  go — I  go,"   clucked   the  old  man. 

agents;  writers;  and  ensigns  of  the  Hon-  Night  was  falling,  and  at  any  moment  Jan 

orable  the   East  India  Company  by  hun-  Chinn  might  whistle  up  his  dreaded  steed 

dreds  and  thousands   and   tens  of   thou-  from  the  darkening  scrub. 

sands.     English  folk  forget  quickly,  but  Now   for   the  first  time  in  a  long  life 

natives  have  long  memories,  and  if  a  man  Bukta  disobeyed  a  lawful  command  and 

has  done  good  in  his  life  it  is  remembered  deserted  his  leader;  for  he  did  not  come 

after  his  death.      The  weathered  marble  back,  but  pressed  to  the  flat  table-top  of 

four-square  tomb  of  Jan  Chinn  was  hung  the  hill  and  called  softly.    Men  stirred  all 

about  with  wild  flowers  and  nuts,  packets  about  him;  little  trembling  men  with  bows 

of  wax  and  honey,  bottles  of  native  spirits  and    arrows   who   had   watched   the   two 

and   infamous   cigars,  with  buffalo  horns  since  noon. 

and  plumes  of  dried  grass.     At  one  end  "  Where  is  he  ?"  whispered  one. 

was  a  rude  clay  image  of  a  white  man,  in  "At    his    own    place.       He   bids  you 

the    old-fashioned    top-hat,    riding   on   a  come,"  said  Bukta. 

bloated  tiger.  "  Now  ?  " 

Bukta  salaamed  reverently  as  they  ap-  "Now." 

proached.     Chinn  bared  his  head  and  be-  "  Rather    let   him    loose    the   Clouded 

gan    to  pick  out  the  blurred  inscription.  Tiger  upon  us.     We  do  not  go." 

So  far  as  he  could  read  it  ran  thus — word  "  Nor  I,  though  I  bore  him  in  my  arms 

for  word,  and  letter  for  letter:  when  he  was  a  child  in  this  his  life.     Wait 

here  till  the  day." 

To  the  memory  of  John  Chinn,  Esq.  "  But  surely  he  will  be  angry." 

vu    .Ln.eJ^oliec^torof ;V\u    •♦  "He    w»H  "be   very   angry,  for   he   has 

ithout  Bloodshed  or ...  error  of  Authority  _«.u- *  «.       t>    i   u      u  -j*. 

Employ.only..eansofConciliat...andconnden.  nothing  to   eat.      But    he    has   said    to    me 

accomplished  the... tire  Subjection...  many  times  that  the    Bhtls  are  his  chil- 

a  Lawless  and  Predator}'  Peop. ..  dren.      By  sunlight  I  believe  this,  but — by 

taching  them  to ish  Government  moonlight  I   am   not  so   sure.      Wrhat   folly 

T,     ^^T'^'.S5    r  n     •  •  have  >'e  Satpura  pigs  compassed  that  ye 

The  most  perma     .and  rational  Mode  of  Domini.  .        1  /          «  1  •               m  -1  »» 

. .  .Governor  General  and  Counc. .  .engal  should  need  him  at  all  ? 

have  ordered  thi erected  "One   came   to  us  in  the  name  of  the 

. .  .arted  this  Life  Aug.  19,  1844.    Ag. . .  Government  with  little  ghost-knives  and  a 

magic  calf,  meaning  to  turn  us  into  cattle 

On  the  other  side  of  the  grave  were  an-  by  the  cutting  off  of  our  arms.     We  were 

cient  verses,  also  very  worn.     As  much  as  greatly  afraid,  but  we  did  not  kill  the  man. 

Chinn  could  decipher  said:  He  is  here;  bound;  a  black  man,  and  we 

think  he  comes  from  the  West.    He  said  it 

.,          .     .    .    „                   ....the  savage  band  was   an   order    t0   cut  ns  aji  wjth   knives— 

Forsook  their  Haunts  and  b....is  Command  •    n      *i.                             j    .i          i_-u 

...  .mended,  .rate  check  a...  st  for  spoil  f^™11)'  the  women    and    the   children. 

And.s.ing  Hamlets  prove  his  gene ....  toil  »>e  did   not   hear  that  it  was  an   order, 

II  umanit..  .survey ights  restore . .  so  we  were  afraid,  and  kept  to  our  hills. 

A  Nation..  ield..  subdued  without  a  Sword.  Some  of  our  men  have  taken  ponies  and 

bullocks  from  the  plains,  and  others  pots 

For   some  little  time   he  leant   on    the  and  cloths,  and  earrings." 

tomb   thinking   of    this  dead  man   of  his  *'  Are  any  slain  ?  " 

own  blood,   and  of  the  house  in   Devon-  "By  our  men?    Not  yet.    But  the  young 

shire;  I  hen  nodding  to  the  plains:  "  Yes,  men  are  blown  to  and  fro  by  many  rumors 

it's  a'  big   work.      All   of   it.      Even    my  like   flames  upon  a    hill,     I^spa  tenners 


"4 


THE   TOMB  OF  HIS  ANCESTORS. 


asking  for  Jan  Chinn  lest  worse  should 
come  to  us.  It  was  this  fear  that  he  fore- 
told by  the  sign  of  the  Clouded  Tiger." 

"  He  says  it  is  otherwise,"  said  Bukta, 
and  he  repeated  with  amplifications  all 
that  Young  Chinn  had  told  him  at  the  con- 
ference of  the  wicker  chair. 

"Think  you,"  said  the  questioner  at 
last,  "  that  the  Government  will  lay  hands 
on  us?  " 

"  Not  I,"  Bukta  rejoined.  "  Jan  Chinn 
will  give  an  order,  and  ye  will  obey. 
The  rest  is  between  the  Government  and 
Jan  Chinn.  I  myself  know  something  of 
the  ghost-knives  and  the  scratching.  It  is 
a  charm  against  the  Smallpox,  but  how  it 
is  done  I  cannot  tell.  Nor  need  that  con- 
cern you." 

"  If  he  stands  by  us  and  before  the  anger 
of  the  Government  we  will  most  strictly 
obey  Jan  Chinn,  except — except  we  do 
not  go  down  to  that  place  to-night." 

They  could  hear  young  Chinn  below  them 
shouting  for  Bukta,  but  they  cowered  and 
sat  still,  expecting  the  Clouded  Tiger. 
The  tomb  had  been  holy  ground  for  nearly 
half  a  century.  If  Jan  Chinn  chose  to 
sleep  there,  who  had  better  right  ?  But 
they  would  not  come  within  eyeshot  of  the 
place  till  broad  day. 

At  first  Chinn  was  exceedingly  angry, 
till  it  occurred  to  him  that  Bukta  most 
probably  had  a  reason  (which,  indeed,  he 
had),  and  his  own  dignity  might  suffer  if 
he  yelled  without  answer.  He  propped 
himself  against  the  foot  of  the  grave,  lit 
a  cheroot,  and,  alternately  dozing  and 
smoking,  came  through  the  warm  night 
proud  that  he  was  a  lawful,  legitimate 
fever-proof  Chinn. 

He  prepared  his  plan  of  action  much 
as  his  grandfather  would  have  done;  and 
when  Bukta  appeared  in  the  morning  with 
a  most  liberal  supply  of  food,  said  nothing 
of  the  scandalous  desertion  over  night. 
Bukta  would  have  been  relieved  by  an 
outburst  of  human  anger,  but  Chinn  fin- 
ished his  victual  leisurely  and  a  cheroot, 
ere  he  made  any  sign. 

"They  are  very  much  afraid,"  said 
Bukta,  who  was  not  too  bold  himself. 
"  It  remains  only  to  give  orders.  They 
said  they  will  obey  if  thou  wilt  only  stand 
between  them  and  the  Government." 

"That  I  know,"  said  Chinn,  strolling 
slowly  to  the  table-land.  A  few  of  the 
elder  men  stood  in  an  irregular  semicircle 
in  an  open  glade;  but  the  ruck  of  people 
— women  and  children — were  hidden  in  the 
thicket.  They  had  no  desire  to  face  the 
first  anger  of  Jan  Chinn  the  First. 


Seating  himself  on  a  fragment  of  split 
rock,  he  smoked  his  cheroot  to  the  butt, 
hearing  men  breathe  hard  all  about  him 
Then  he  cried,  so  suddenly  that  they 
jumped: 

"  Bring  the  man  that  was  bound!" 

A  scuffle  and  a  cry  were  followed  by  the 
appearance  of  a  Hindu  vaccinator,  quak- 
ing with  fear,  bound  hand  and  foot,  as  the 
Bhils  of  old  were  accustomed  to  bind 
their  human  sacrifices.  He  was  pushed 
cautiously  before  the  presence,  but  young 
Chinn  did  not  look  at  him. 

"I  said — the  man  that  was  bound.  Is 
it  a  jest  to  bring  me  one  tied  like  a  buf- 
falo ?  Since  when  could  the  Bhils  bind  folk 
at  their  pleasure  ?     Cut!  " 

Half  a  dozen  hasty  knives  cut  away  the 
thongs,  and  the  man  crawled  to  Chinn, 
who  pocketed  his  case  of  lancets  and 
tubes  of  lymph.  Then,  sweeping  the 
semicircle  with  one  comprehensive  fore- 
finger, and  in  the  voice  of  compliment,  he 
said,  clearly  and  distinctly:  *'  Pigs!" 

"Ai!"  whispered  Bukta.  "Now  he 
speaks.     Woe  to  foolish  people!  " 

"  I  have  come  on  foot  from  my  house" 
(the  assembly  shuddered)  "to  make  clear 
a  matter  which  any  other  than  a  Satpura 
Bhil  would  have  seen  with  both  eyesfroma 
distance.  Ye  know  the  Smallpox,  who  pits 
and  scars  your  children  so  that  they  look 
like  wasp-combs.  It  is  an  order  of  the 
Government,  that  whoso  is  scratched  on  the 
arm  with  these  little  knives  which  I  hold 
up  is  charmed  against  Her.  All  Sahibs 
are  thus  charmed,  and  very  many  Hindus. 
This  is  the  mark  of  the  charm.     Look!" 

He  rolled  back  his  sleeve  to  the  arm- 
pit and  showed  the  dimples  of  the  vac- 
cination mark  on  the  white  skin.  "Come 
all,  and  look." 

A  few  daring  spirits  came  up  and  nod- 
ded their  heads  wisely.  There  was  cer- 
tainly a  mark,  and  they  knew  well  what 
other  dread  marks  were  hidden  by  the 
shirt.  Merciful  was  Jan  Chinn  that  be 
had  not  then  and  there  proclaimed  his  god- 
head. 

"  Now  all  these  things  the  man  whom 
ye  bound  told  you." 

"I  did — a  hundred  times,  but  they  an- 
swered with  blows,"  groaned  the  operator, 
chafing  his  wrists  and  ankles. 

"  But,  being  pigs,  ye  did  not  believe; 
and  so  came  I  here  to  save  you  first  from 
Smallpox,  next  from  a  great  folly  of  fear, 
and  lastly,  it  may  be,  from  the  rope  and 
the  jail.  It  is  no  gain  to  me:  it  is  no 
pleasure  to  me:  but  for  the  sake  of  that 
one  who  is  yonder,  who  made  the  Bhil  a 
Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


RUDYARD  KIPLING. 


"5 


;\ :  i 


"  It  is  thy  horse— as  it  has  been  these  three  generations ." 


man" — he  pointed  down  the  hill — "I, 
who  am  of  his  blood,  the  son  of  his  son, 
come  to  turn  your  people:  and  I  speak  the 
truth,  as  did  Jan  Chinn." 

The  crowd  murmured  reverently,  and 
men  stole  out  of  the  thicket  by  twos  and 
threes  to  join  it.  There  was  no  anger  in 
their  god's  face. 

**  These  are  my  orders.  (Heaven  send 
they'll  take  'em,  but  I  seem  to  have  im- 
pressed 'em  so  far  !)  I  myself  will  stay 
among  you  while  this  man  scratches  your 
arms  with  the  knives  after  the  order  of  the 
Government.  In  three,  or  it  may  be  five 
or  seven  days,  your  arms  will  swell  and  itch 
and  burn.  That  is  the  power  of  Smallpox 
fighting  in  your  base  blood  against  the 
orders  of  the  Government.  I  will  therefore 
stay  among  you  till  I  see  that  Smallpox  is 
conquered,  and  I  will  not  go  away  till  the 
men  and  the  women  and  the  little  children 
show  me  upon  their  arms  such  marks  as  I 
have  even  now  showed  you.  I  bring  with 
me  two  very  good  guns  and  a  man  whose 
name  is  known  among  beasts  and  men. 
We  will  hunt  together,  I  and  he,  and  your 
young  men  and  the  others  shall  eat  and  lie 
still.      This  is  my  order." 

There  was  a  long  pause  while  victory 
hung  in  the  balance.  A  white-haired  old 
sinner,  standing  on  one  uneasy  leg,  piped 
up: 

**  There  are  ponies  and  some  few  bul- 
locks and  other  things  for  which  we  need 
a  kowl  [protection].  They  were  not  taken 
in  the  way  of  trade." 

The  battle  was  won,  and  John  Chinn 
drew  a  breath  of  relief.  The  young  Bhils 
had  been  raiding,  but  if  taken  swiftly  all 
could  be  put  straight. 

•*  I  will  write  a  kowl  so  soon  as  the 
ponies,  the  bullocks,  and  the  other  things 
are   counted   before   me   and    sent    back 


whence  they  came.  But  first  we  will  put 
the  Government  mark  on  such  as  have  not 
been  visited  by  Smallpox."  In  an  under- 
tone to  the  vaccinator:  "  If  you  show  you 
are  afraid  you'll  never  see  Poona  again, 
my  friend." 

"  There  is  not  sufficient  ample  supply  of 
vaccine  for  all  this  population,"  said  the 
man.  "  They  have  destroyed  the  offeecial 
calf." 

"They  won't  know  the  difference. 
Scrape  'em  all  round,  and  give  me  a  couple 
of  lancets.     I'll  attend  to  the  elders." 

The  aged  diplomat  who  had  demanded 
protection  was  the  first  victim.  He  fell 
to  Chinn's  hand  and  dared  not  cry  out. 
As  soon  as  he  was  freed  he  dragged  up 
a  companion  and  held  him  fast,  and  the 
crisis  became,  as  it  were,  a  child's  sport; 
for  the  vaccinated  chased  the  unvaccinated 
to  treatment,  vowing  that  all  the  tribe 
must  suffer  equally.  The  women  shrieked, 
and  the  children  ran  howling,  but  Chinn 
laughed  and  waved  the  pink-tipped  lancet. 

"It  is  an  honor,"  he  cried.  "Tell 
them,  Bukta,  how  great  an  honor  it  is  that 
I  myself  should  mark  them.  Nay,  I  can- 
not mark  every  one — the  Hindu  must  also 
do  his  work — but  I  will  touch  all  marks 
that  he  makes,  so  there  will  be  an  equal 
virtue  in  them.  Thus  do  the  Rajputs  stick 
pigs.  Ho,  brother  with  one  eye!  Catch 
that  girl  and  bring  her  to  me.  She  need 
not  run  away  yet,  for  she  is  not  married, 
and  I  do  not  seek  her  in  marriage.  She 
will  not  come  ?  Then  she  shall  be  shamed 
by  her  little  brother,  a  fat  boy,  a  bold 
boy.  He  puts  out  his  arm  like  a  soldier. 
Look!  He  does  not  flinch  at  the  blood. 
Some  day  he  shall  be  in  my  regiment. 
And,  now,  mother  of  many,  we  will  lightly 
touch  thee,  for  Smallpox  has  been  before  us 
here.  It  is  a  true  thing  indeed  that  this 
Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


n6 


THE   TOMB   OF  HIS  ANCESTORS. 


charm  breaks  the  power  of  Mata.  There 
will  be  no  more  pitted  faces  among  the 
Satpuras,  and  so  ye  can  ask  many  cows 
for  each  maid  to  be  wed." 

And  so  on  and  so  on— quick-poured 
showman's  patter,  sauced  in  the  Bhil  hunt- 
ing proverbs  and  tales  of  their  own  brand 
of  coarse  humor — till  the  lancets  were 
blunted  and  both  operators  worn  out. 

But,  nature  being  the  same  the  world 
over,  the  unvaccinated  grew  jealous  of 
their  marked  comrades,  and  came  near  to 
blows  about  it.  Then  Chinn  declared 
,  himself  a  Court  of  Justice,  no  longer  a 
medical  board,  and  made  formal  inquiry 
into  the  late  robberies. 

"We  are  the  thieves  of  Mahadeo," 
said  the  Bhils  simply.  "  It  is  our  fate 
and  we  were  frightened.  When  we  are 
frightened  we  always  steal." 

Simply  and  directly  as  children,  they 
gave  in  the  tale  of  the  plunder,  all  but 
two  bullocks  and  some  spirits  that  had 
gone  amissing  (these  Chinn  promised  to 
make  good  out  of  his  own  pocket),  and  ten 
ringleaders  were  despatched  to  the  low- 
lands, with  a  wonderful  document  written 
on  the  leaf  of  a  note-book,  and  addressed 
to  an  Assistant  District  Superintendent  of 
Police.  There  was  warm  calamity  in  that 
note,  as  Jan  Chinn  warned  them,  but  any- 
thing was  better  than  loss  of  liberty. 

Armed  with  this  protection  the  repentant 
raiders  went  downhill.  They  had  no  de- 
sire whatever  to  meet  Mr.  Dundas  Fawne 
of  the  Police,  aged  twenty-two,  and  of  a 
cheerful  countenance,  nor  did  they  wish  to 
revisit  the  scene  of  their  robberies.  Steer- 
ing a  middle  course,  they  ran  into  the 
camp  of  the  one  Government  chaplain  al- 
lowed to  the  various  Irregular  Corps  in  a 
district  of  some  fifteen  thousand  square 
miles,  and  stood  before  him  in  a  cloud  of 
dust.  He  was  by  way  of  being  a  priest, 
they  knew;  and,  what  was  more  to  the 
point,  a  good  sportsman,  who  paid  his 
beaters  generously. 

When  he  read  Chinn's  note  he  laughed, 
which  they  deemed  a  lucky  omen,  till  he 
called  up  policemen,  who  tethered  the 
ponies  and  the  bullocks  by  the  piled  house 
gear,  and  laid  stern  hands  upon  three  of 
that  smiling  band  of  the  thieves  of  Ma- 
hadeo.  The  chaplain  himself  addressed 
them  magisterially  with  a  riding-whip. 
That  was  painful,  but  Jan  Chinn  had  proph- 
esied it.  They  submitted,  but  would 
not  give  up  the  written  protection,  fear- 
ing the  jail.  On  their  way  back  they  met 
Mr.  D.  Fawne,  who  had  heard  about  the 
robberies,  and  was  not  pleased. 


"Certainly,"  said  the  eldest  of  the 
gang,  when  the  second  interview  was  at  an 
end,  "certainly,  Jan  Chinn's  protection 
has  saved  us  our  liberty,  but  it  is  as  though 
there  were  many  beatings  in  one  small 
piece  of  paper.     Put  it  away." 

One  climbed  into  a  tree  and  stuck  the 
letter  into  a  cleft  forty  feet  from  the 
ground,  where  it  could  do  no  harm. 
Warmed,  sore,  but  happy,  the  ten  returned 
to  Jan  Chinn  next  day,  where  he  sat 
among  uneasy  Bhils,  all  looking  at  their 
right  arms,  and  all  bound  under  terror  of 
their  god's  disfavor  not  to  scratch. 

"  It  was  a  good  kowl"  said  the  leader. 
"  First  the  chaplain,  who  laughed,  took 
away  our  plunder,  and  beat  three  of  us,  as 
was  promised.  Next,  we  meet  Fawne 
Sahib,  who  frowned,  and  asked  for  the 
plunder.  We  spoke  the  truth,  and  so  he 
beat  us  all  one  after  another,  and  called  us 
chosen  names.  He  then  gave  us  these  two 
bundles,"  they  set  down  a  bottle  of  whisky 
and  a  box  of  cheroots,  "  and  we  came  away. 
The  kowl  is  left  in  a  tree,  because  its  virtue 
is  that  so  soon  as  we  show  it  to  a  Sahib  we 
are  beaten." 

"But  for  that  kowl"  said  Jan  Chinn 
sternly,  "ye  would  all  have  been  march- 
ing to  jail  with  a  policeman  on  either  side. 
Ye  come  now  to  serve  as  beaters  for  me. 
These  people  are  unhappy,  and  we  will  go 
hunting  till  they  are  well.  To-night  we 
will  make  a  feast." 

It  is  written  in  the  chronicles  of  the  Sat- 
pura  Bhils,  together  with  many  other  mat- 
ters not  fit  for  print,  that  through  five 
days,  after  the  day  that  he  had  put  his  mark 
upon  them,  Jan  Chinn  the  First  hunted 
for  his  people;  and  on  the  five  nights 
of  those  days  the  tribe  was  gloriously  and 
entirely  drunk.  Jan  Chinn  bought  country 
spirits  of  an  awful  strength  and  slew  wild 
pig  and  deer  beyond  counting,  so  that  if 
any  fell  sick  they  might  have  two  good 
reasons. 

Between  head  and  stomach  aches  they 
found  no  time  to  ti  ink  of  their  arms,  but 
followed  Jan  Chinn  obediently  through  the 
jungles,  and  with  each  day's  returning 
confidence  men,  women,  and  children  stole 
away  to  their  villages  as  the  little  army 
passed  by.  They  carried  news  that  it  was 
good  and  right  to  be  scratched  with  ghost- 
knives;  that  Jan  Chinn  was  indeed  rein- 
carnated as  a  god  of  free  food  and  drink, 
and  that  of  all  nations  the  Satpura  Bhils 
stood  first  in  his  favor,  if  they  would  only 
refrain  from  scratching.  Henceforward 
that  kindly  demi-god  would  be  connected 
in  their  minds  with  great  gorgings  and  the 
Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


RUDYARD  KIPLING. 


117 


"  Lastly,  as  a  gorged  snake,  he  dragged  himself  out  0/ the  cave" 


vaccine  and  lancets  of  a  paternal  Govern- 
ment. 

"And  to-morrow  I  go  back  to  my 
home/*  said  Jan  Chinn  to  his  faithful  few, 
whom  neither  spirits,  over-eating,  nor 
swollen  glands  could  conquer.  It  is  hard 
for  children  and  savages  to  behave  rever- 
ently at  all  times  to  the  idols  of  their 
make-belief,  and  they  had  frolicked  exces- 
sively with  Jan  Chinn.  But  the  reference 
to  his  home  cast  a  gloom  on  the  people. 

"  And  the  Sahib  will  not  come  again  ?  " 
said  he  who  had  been  vaccinated  first. 

"That  is  to  be  seen,"  said  Chinn  wa- 
rily. 

"  Nay,  but  come  as  a  white  man — come 
as  a  young  man  whom  we  know  and  love, 
for  as  thou  alone  knowest,  we  are  a  weak 
people.  If  we  again  saw  thy  —  thy 
horse — "  They  were  picking  up  their 
courage. 

"  I  have  no  horse.  I  came  on  foot — 
with  Bukta,  yonder.     What  is  this  ?  " 

"  Thou  knowest — the  thing  that  thou 
hast  chosen  for  a  night-horse."  The  little 
men  squirmed  in  fear  and  awe. 


"  Night-horses  ?  Bukta,  what  is  this  last 
tale  of  children  ?  " 

Bukta  had  been  a  silent  leader  in  Chinn's 
presence,  since  the  night  of  his  desertion, 
and  was  grateful  for  a  chance-flung  ques- 
tion. 

"They  know,  Sahib,"  he  whispered. 
"  It  is  the  Clouded  Tiger.  That  that  comes 
from  the  place  where  thou  didst  once 
sleep.  It  is  thy  horse — as  it  has  been  these 
three  generations." 

"  My  horse!  That  was  a  dream  of  the 
Bhils." 

"It  is  no  dream.  Do  dreams  leave  the 
tracks  of  broad  pugs  on  earth  ?  Why 
make  two  faces  before  thy  people?  They 
know  of  the  night-ridings,  and  they — and 
they — " 

"  Are  afraid  and  would  have  them 
cease." 

Bukta  nodded.  "  If  thou  hast  no  fur- 
ther need  of  him.      He  is  thy  horse." 

"  The  thing  leaves  a  trail,  then  ?  "  said 
Chinn. 

"  We  have  seen  it.  It  is  like  a  village 
road  under  the  tomb." 


Digitized  by 


Google 


u8 


THE   TOMB   OF  HIS  ANCESTORS. 


"  Can  ye  find  and  follow  it  for  me?" 

"  By  daylight — if  one  comes  with  us,  and 
above  all  stands  near  by." 

"  I  will  stand  close,  and  we  will  see  to 
it  that  Jan  Chinn  does  not  ride  any  more." 

And  the  Bhils  shouted  the  last  words 
again  and  again. 

From  Chinn's  point  of  view  the  stalk 
was  nothing  more  than  an  ordinary  one 
— down  hill,  through  split  and  crannied 
rocks;  unsafe  perhaps  if  a  man  did  not 
keep  his  wits  by  him,  but  no  worse  than 
twenty  others  he  had  undertaken.  Yet  his 
men — they  refused  absolutely  to  beat  and 
would  only  trail — dripped  sweat  at  every 
move.  They  showed  the  marks  of  enor- 
mous pugs  that  ran,  always  down  hill,  to  a 
few  hundred  feet  below  Jan  Chinn's  tomb, 
and  disappeared  in  a  narrow-mouthed 
cave.  It  was  an  insolently  open  road,  a 
domestic  highway  beaten  without  thought 
of  concealment. 

"  The  beggar  might  be  paying  rent  and 
taxes,"  Chinn  muttered  ere  he  asked 
whether  his  friend's  taste  ran  to  cattle  or 
man. 

"  Cattle,"  was  the  answer.  "  Two  heif- 
ers a  week.  We  drive  them  for  him  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill.  It  is  his  custom.  If 
we  did  not,  he  might  seek  us." 

"Blackmail  and  privacy,"  said  Chinn. 
"  I  can't  say  I  fancy  going  into  the  cave 
after  him.     What's  to  be  done  ?  " 

The  Bhils  fell  back  as  Chinn  lodged 
himself  behind  a  rock  with  his  rifle  ready. 
Tigers,  he  knew,  were  shy  beasts,  but  one 
who  had  been  long  cattle-fed  in  this  sump- 
tuous style  might  prove  overbold. 

"  He  speaks!  "  some  one  whispered  from 
the  rear.     "  He  knows  too." 

"  Well,  of  all  the  infernal  cheek!  "  said 
Chinn.  There  was  an  angry  growl  from 
the  cave — a  direct  challenge. 

"Come  out,  then,"  Chinn  shouted. 
41  Come  out  of  that.  Let's  have  a  look  at 
you." 

The  brute  knew  well  enough  that  there 
was  some  connection  between  brown  nude 
Bhils  and  his  weekly  allowance,  but  the 
white  helmet  in  the  sunlight  annoyed  him; 
and  he  did  not  approve  of  the  voice  that 
broke  his  rest.  Lazily,  as  a  gorged  snake, 
he  dragged  himself  out  of  the  cave,  and 
stood  yawning  and  blinking  at  the  en- 
trance. The  sunlight  fell  upon  his  flat 
right  side,  and  Chinn  wondered.  Never 
had  he  seen  a  tiger  marked  after  this 
fashion.  Except  for  his  head,  which  was 
staringly  barred,  he  was  dappled — not 
striped,  but  dappled  like  a  child's  rocking- 
horse  in  rich  shades  of  smoky  black  on 


red  gold.  That  portion,  of  his  belly  and 
throat  which  should  have  been  white  was 
orange;  and  his  tail  and  paws  were  black. 

He  looked  leisurely  for  some  ten  seconds 
and  then  deliberately  lowered  his  head,  his 
chin  dropped  and  drawn  in,  staring  intently 
at  the  man.  The  effect  of  this  was  to 
throw  forward  the  round  arch  of  his  skull, 
with  two  broad  bands  across  it,  while  be- 
low the  bands  glared  the  unwinking  eyes; 
so  that,  head  on,  as  he  stood,  he  looked 
something  like  a  diabolically  scowling  pan- 
tomime mask.  It  was  a  piece  of  natural 
mesmerism  that  he  had  practiced  many 
times  on  his  quarry,  and,  though  Chinn  was 
by  no  means  a  terrified  heifer,  he  stood  for 
awhile  held  by  the  extraordinary  oddity  of 
the  attack.  The  head — the  body  seemed 
to  have  been  packed  away  behind  it — the 
ferocious  skull-like  head  crept  nearer  to  the 
switching  of  an  angry  tail-tip  in  the  grass. 
Left  and  right  the  Bhils  had  scattered 
to  let  John  Chinn  subdue  his  own  horse. 

"  My  word!  "  he  thought.  "  He's  trying 
to  frighten  me  like  a  bogy,"  and  fired 
between  the  saucer-like  eyes,  leaping  aside 
upon  the  shot.  He  feared  he  had  left  it  too 
long. 

A  big  coughing  mass,  reeking  of  carrion, 
bounded  past  him  up  the  hill,  and  he  fol- 
lowed discreetly.  The  tiger  made  no  at- 
tempt to  turn  into  the  jungle;  he  was 
hunting  for  sight  and  breath — nose  up, 
mouth  open — the  tremendous  fore-legs 
scattering  the  gravel  in  spurts. 

"  Scuppered!  "  said  John  Chinn,  watch- 
ing the  flight.  "  Now  if  he  was  a  partridge 
he'd  tower.  Lungs  must  be  full  of 
blood." 

The  brute  had  jerked  himself  over  a 
boulder  and  fallen  out  of  sight  the  other 
side.  John  Chinn  looked  over  with  a  ready 
barrel.  But  the  red  trail  led  straight  as 
an  arrow  even  to  his  grandfather's  tomb, 
and  there,  among  the  smashed  spirit-bottles 
and  the  fragments  of  the  mud  image,  the 
life  left  with  a  flurry  and  a  grunt. 

"If  my  worthy  ancestor  could  see 
that,"  said  John  Chinn,  "he'd  have  been 
proud  of  me.  Eyes,  lower  jaw,  and  lungs. 
A  very  nice  shot. ' '  He  whistled  for  Bukta 
as  he  drew  the  tape  over  the  stiffening 
bulk. 

1 '  Ten — six — eight — by  Jove !  It's  nearly 
eleven — call  it  eleven.  Fore-arm,  twenty- 
four — five — seven  and  a  half.  A  short 
tail,  too:  three  feet  one.  But  what  a  skin! 
O  Bukta!  Bukta!  The  men  with  the 
knives  swiftly." 

"Is  he  beyond  question  dead  ?  "  said  an 
awe-stricken  voice  behind  a  rock. 


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THE   TOMB  OF  HIS  ANCESTORS. 


44  That  was  not  the  way  I  killed  my  first 
tiger,"  said  China.  *'  I  did  not  think  that 
Bukta  would  run.     I  had  no  second  gun." 

44  It — it  is  the  Clouded  Tiger,"  said  Buk- 
ta, unheeding  the  taunt.     44  He  is  dead." 

Whether  all  the  Bhils,  vaccinated  and 
unvaccinated,  of  the  Satpuras  had  lain  by  to 
see  the  kill,  Chinn  could  not  say;  but  the 
whole  hill's  flank  rustled  with  little  men, 
shouting,  singing,  and  stamping.  And 
yet,  till  he  had  made  the  first  cut  in  the 
splendid  skin,  not  a  man  would  take  a 
knife;  and,  when  the  shadows  fell,  they 
ran  from  the  red-stained  tomb,  and  no 
persuasion  would  bring  them  back  till 
dawn.  So  Chinn  spent  a  second  night  in 
the  open,  guarding  the  carcass  from  jack- 
als, and  thinking  about  his  ancestor. 

He  returned  to  the  lowlands  to  the 
triumphal  chant  of  an  escorting  army 
three  hundred  strong,  the  Mahratta  vac- 
cinator close  at  his  elbow,  and  -the  rudely 
dried  skin,  a  trophy,  before  him.  When 
that  army  suddenly  and  noiselessly  disap- 
peared, as  quail  in  high  corn,  he  argued 
he  was  near  civilization,  and  a  turn  in  the 
road  brought  him  upon  the  camp  of  a 
wing  of  his  own  corps.  He  left  the  skin 
on  a  cart-tail  for  the  world  to  see,  and 
sought  the  Colonel. 

44  They're  perfectly  right,"  he  explained 
earnestly.  44  There  isn't  an  ounce  of  vice 
in  'em.  They  were  only  frightened.  I've 
vaccinated  the  whole  boiling,  and  they 
like  it  awfully.  What  are — what  are  we 
doing  here,  sir  ?  " 

44  That's  what  I'm  trying  to  find  out," 


said  the  Colonel.  4i  I  don't  know  yet 
whether  we're  a  piece  of  a  brigade  or  a 
police  force.  However,  I  think  we'll  call 
ourselves  a  police  force.  How  did  you 
manage  to  get  a  Bhil  vaccinated  ?  " 

44  Well,  sir,"  said  Chinn,  "  I've  been 
thinking  it  over,  and,  as  far  as  I  can  make 
out,  I've  got  a  sort  of  hereditary  pull  over 
'em." 

44  So  I  know,  or  I  wouldn't  have  sent 
you;  but  what  exactly  ?  " 

44  It's  rather  rummy.  It  seems,  from 
what  I  can  make  out,  that  I'm  my  own 
grandfather  reincarnated,  and  I've  been 
disturbing  the  peace  of  the  country  by  rid- 
ing a  pad-tiger  of  nights.  If  i  hadn't 
done  that  I  don't  think  they'd  have  ob- 
jected to  the  vaccination;  but  the  two 
together  were  more  than  they  could  stand. 
And  so,  sir,  I've  vaccinated  'em  and  shot 
my  tiger-horse  as  a  sort  o'  proof  of  good 
faith.  You  never  saw  such  a  skin  in  your 
life." 

The  Colonel  tugged  his  mustache 
thoughtfully.  *'  Now,  how  the  deuce,"  said 
he,  44  am  I  to  include  that  in  my  report  ?  " 

And,  indeed,  the  official  version  of  the 
Bhils'  anti-vaccination  stampede  said 
nothing  about  Lieutenant  John  Chinn  his 
godship.  But  Bukta  knew,  and  the  corps 
knew,  and  every  Bhil  in  the  Satpura  hills 
knew.  And  now  Bukta  is  zealous  that 
John  Chinn  should  swiftly  be  wedded  and 
impart  his  powers  to  a  son,  for  if  the 
Chinn  succession  fails  and  the  little  Bhils 
are  left  to  their  own  imaginings,  there  will 
be  fresh  trouble  in  the  Satpuras. 


This  story  is  copyrighted,  1897,  by  Rudyard  Kipling.    All  rights  reserved. 

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Virgin  A  doring  tk  e  Irfa  nt  Ch  t  ist.  Pcrugino. 

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Madonna  and  Childy  and  St.  John. 


Botticelli. 


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THE  DEATH  OF  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS. 

A  Personal  Recollection  by  General  John  M.  Thayer. 


PASSING  the  winter  in  Washington  in 
1848,  I  was  a  daily  attendant  upon 
either  the  Senate  or  the  House.  The  ob- 
ject to  which  my  eyes  instinctively  turned 
on  entering  the  House  was  the  form  of  the 
ex-President,  John  Quincy  Adams.  And  so 
it  was  with  all  strangers.  Their  first  ques- 
tion was,  '*  Which  is  John  Quincy  Adams?  " 
He  lived  in  his  own  house  on  F  Street, 
directly  opposite  the  Ebbitt  House.  The 
house  is  now  used  for  stores  and  offices. 
I  frequently  saw  him  walking  along  F 
Street  on  pleasant  days,  on  his  way  to  the 
Capitol,  and  I  noticed  that  whoever  met 
him,  whether  an  acquaintance  or  not, 
lifted  his  hat  to  him  as  he  passed. 

The  House  met  in  the  hall  now  used  for 
statuary.  The  Whigs  occupied  the  space 
on  the  right  of  the  main  aisle,  as  the  Re- 
publicans do  in  the  present  hall;  and  the 
Democrats  occupied  the  space  on  the  left, 
as  they  do  now.  The  uesk  of  Mr.  Adams 
was  a  little  to  the  right  of  the  center  of 
the  Whig  side  of  the  house.  I  entered  the 
chamber  a  couple  of  hours  after  the  ses- 
sion began  on  Monday,  February  21,  1848, 
and  stood  back  of  the  outside  row  of  seats, 
looking  directly  at  the  ex-President.  The 
subject  before  the  House  was  a  resolution 
granting  medals  to  some  officers  in  the 
Mexican  War.  The  resolution  had  been 
read,  the  previous  question  was  ordered, 
and  on  that  vote  Mr.  Adams  answered  to 
his  name  in  a  clear,  distinct  voice.  The 
Speaker  arose,  and  was  about  to  put  the 
question,  "  Shall  the  bill  pass?"  when  to 
his  left  there  was  a  quick,  sudden  move- 
ment, a  stifled  exclamation,  and  the  mem- 
bers nearest  to  Mr.  Adams  rushed  toward 
him.  I  saw  him  rising,  as  I  supposed 
to  address  the  Speaker,  and  I  think  he 
uttered  the  words  "  Mr.  Speaker ;"  then 
he  staggered  and  fell  back  over  the  left 
arm  of  his  chair.  He  would  have  fallen 
to  the  floor  if  the  member  sitting  nearest 
to  him  had  not  caught  and  held  him  up. 
He  had  been  seized  with  paralysis.  He 
was  immediately  laid  upon  a  sofa  and  car- 
ried into  the  area  in  front  of  the  Speaker's 
desk. 

Intense  excitement  at  once  pervaded  the 
hall.  The  Speaker,  the  Hon.  R.  C.  Win- 
throp,  suggested  that  some  member  move 


for  an  adjournment,  which  was  done. 
Members  sitting  in  the  outside  row  of  seats 
did  not  realize  what  had  occurred  till  the 
words  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  "  Mr. 
Adams  is  dying."  Then  an  awful  solem- 
nity settled  down  over  the  whole  assem- 
blage. Members  walked  noiselessly  from 
desk  to  desk,  and  gathered  in  little  groups, 
talking  of  what  had  just  befallen.  It  was 
frequently  remarked  that  this  was  just  the 
way  the  ex-President  would  have  desired 
to  die. 

A  member  who  was  a  physician  now  had 
him  removed  to  the  rotunda.  He  lay  there 
for  a  short  time,  and  then  was  borne  just 
through  the  eastern  door,  that  he  might 
have  fresh  air.  But  it  being  too  chilly 
there,  he  was  removed  to  the  Speaker's 
room,  from  which  he  never  emerged  till  he 
was  borne  away  in  his  casket. 

The  news  that  Mr.  Adams  had  been 
stricken  was  communicated  to  the  Senate 
through  Senator  Benton,  who  immedi- 
ately moved  an  adjournment,  observing 
that  the  Senate  could  not  be  in  a  condition 
to  transact  business  while  such  a  solemn 
scene  was  transpiring  in  the  other  wing  of 
the  Capitol.  Mrs.  Adams  was  notified, 
and  with  her  nephew  hastened  to  her  hus- 
band^ bedside.  He  had  left  her  but  a 
few  hours  previously,  in  apparent  good 
health.  He  did  not  recognize  her  or  any- 
one in  attendance,  and  he  continued  un- 
conscious, except  for  a  moment,  till  the 
end  came. 

The  next  day,  in  the  House,  the  Speaker 
announced  the  continued  illness  of  the 
ex-President,  and  Mr.  Burt  of  South  Caro- 
lina moved  an  adjournment.  The  Senate 
also  adjourned,  and  adjournments  followed 
in  both  houses  on  the  third  day. 

While  sitting  at  her  husband's  bedside 
on  Tuesday,  Mrs.  Adams  was  taken  sud- 
denly ill  and  fainted,  and  was  carried 
to  her  residence.  Once  Mr.  Adams  par- 
tially recovered  consciousness,  and  feebly 
uttered  the  words,  now  historic:  *' It  is 
the  end  of  earth;  I  am  content."  He  ex- 
pired on  Wednesday  evening,  about  an 
hour  after  sunset.  He  had  been  for  nearly 
sixty  years  in  the  public  service  ;  had 
passed  a  large  portion  of  his  life  in  the 
glare   of   thrones  and    the    splendors  of 


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THE  DEATH  OF  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS. 


127 


courts ;  had  tasted  the  sweets  of  power 
and  position  ;  and  now,  as  the  end  ap- 
proached, he  was  content  to  pass  on. 

As  the  members  gathered  in  session  the 
next  day  at  the  usual  hour,  they  moved 
noiselessly  to  their  seats;  the  hum  of 
voices  and  the  noisy  greetings  usually  at- 
tendant upon  such  occasions  had  given 
way  to  an  impressive  stillness.  The 
Speaker,  in  a  subdued  voice  and  with  deep 
emotion,  announced  the  death  of  Mr. 
Adams  in  these  words: 

44  A  seat  on  this  floor  has  been  vacated,  towards 
which  our  eyes  have  been  accustomed  to  turn  with 
no  common  interest. 

44  A  voice  has  been  forever  hushed  in  this  hall,  to 
which  all  ears  have  been  accustomed  to  listen  with 
profound  reverence. 

44  A  venerable  form  has  faded  from  our  sight, 
around  which  we  have  daily  clustered  with  an  affec- 
tionate regard. 

44  A  name  has  been  stricken  from  the  roll  of  living 
statesmen  of  our  land,  which  has  been  associated  for 
more  than  a  half  a  century  with  the  highest  civil 
service  and  the  loftiest  civil  renown." 

All  the  public  buildings  were  shrouded 
with  crape,  and  most  of  the  private  edifices. 
The  obsequies  took  place  in  the  hall  of  the 
House.  Both  branches  of  Congress,  the 
President  and  Cabinet,  the  Judges  of  the 
Supreme  Court,  the  foreign  ministers,  and 
the  high  officers  of  the  army  and  navy 
were  in  attendance.  The  cold  form  of 
the  dead  statesman  lying  in  the  coffin  in 
front  of  the  Speaker's  desk,  the  somber 
shading  given  to  the  hall  by  the  emblems 
of  mourning,  the  reverential  visages  of 
all  in  the  assembly,  the  solemn  notes  of 
the  funeral  dirge  by  the  Marine  Band, 
united  to  make  it  a  scene  truly  awe- 
inspiring.  T.he  Rev.  Dr.  Gurley,  pastor 
of  the  New  York  Avenue  Presbyterian 
Church  and  Chaplain  of  the  House, 
preached  the  funeral  discourse,  from  the 
words:  "And  thine  age  shall  be  clearer 
than  the  noonday;  thou  shalt  shine  forth, 
thou  shalt  be  as  the  morning.  And  thou 
shalt  be  secure,  because  there  is  hope." 

The  body  was  borne,  for  the  time,  to  the 
Congressional  Cemetery;  John  C.  Calhoun 
was  one  of  the  pallbearers.  Afterwards  it 
was  removed  to  Quincy,  Massachusetts, 
under  the  escort  of  a  Congressional  com- 
mittee of  which  Abraham  Lincoln  was  a 
member,  and  laid  to  rest  in  the  burying- 
ground  of  Mr.  Adams's  ancestors,  by  the 
side  of  his  father,  John  Adams.  And  thus 
they  rest,  father  and  son,  both  ex-Presi- 
dents of  the  United  States,  side  by  side, 
till  the  ushering  in  of  the  new  morn. 

The  correspondence  between  Mr.  Adams 


and  his  father,  after  the  former's  election 
as  President  by  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives, is  interesting.  There  having  been  no 
choice  in  the  Electoral  College,  it  devolved 
upon  the  House  to  elect  from  the  three 
candidates  having  the  highest  number  of 
votes  in  the  Electoral  College.  General 
Jackson  had  received  ninety-nine  votes, 
J.  Q.  Adams  eighty-four,  W.  H.  Crawford 
forty-one,  and  Henry  Clay  thirty-seven. 
Adams  received  the  votes  of  thirteen 
States,  Jackson  of  seven,  and  Crawford 
of  four.  There  was  indescribable  excite- 
ment in  the  House,  about  the  Capitol, 
and  in  the  city,  shortly  preceding  and 
during  the  taking  of  the  vote.  As  soon 
as  the  vote  was  declared,  Senator  Rufus 
King  of  New  York  sent  a  brief  note  of 
congratulation  to  Mr.  Adams  at  the  State 
Department,  informing  him  of  the  result. 
Mr.  Adams  immediately  enclosed  the  same 
to  his  father,  with  the  following  letter: 

Washington,  February  9,  1825. 
My  Dear  Father  :  The  enclosed  letter  from  Mr. 
King  will  inform  you  of  the  event  of  this  day,  upon 
which  I  can  only  offer  you  my  congratulations  and 
ask  your  blessing  and  prayers. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

John  Quincy  Adams. 

The  following  was  the  answer: 

My  Dear  Son  ;  I  have  received  your  letter  of  the 
9th  inst.  Never  did  I  feel  so  much  solemnity  as  on 
this  occasion.  The  multitude  of  my  thoughts  and 
the  intensity  of  my  feelings  are  too  much  for  a  mind 
like  mine  in  its  ninetieth  year.  May  the  blessing  of 
God  Almighty  continue  to  protect  you  to  the  end 
of  your  life,  as  it  has  heretofore  protected  you  in  so 
remarkable  a  manner  from  your  cradle.  I  offer  the 
same  prayer  for  your  lady  and  for  your  family,  and 
am  your  affectionate  father, 

John  Adams. 

Quincy,  Mass.,  February  17,  1825. 

The  following,  written  by  Mr.  Adams 
the  night  after  his  inauguration,  shows 
with  what  dread  and  anxiety  he  assumed 
the  responsibility  of  the  Presidency: 

44  After  two  successive  sleepless  nights,  I  entered 
upon  this  day  with  a  supplication  to  heaven,  first, 
for  my  country,  secondly,  for  myself  and  for  those 
connected  with  my  good  name  and  fortunes,  that  the 
last  results  of  its  events  may  be  auspicious  and 
blessed." 

His  last  public  service  in  the  House  of 
Representatives,  his  vindication  of  the 
right  of  petition  and  the  freedom  of  de- 
bate, his  unselfish  devotion  to  the  inter- 
ests of  humanity  and  the  cause  of  the 
slave  must  ever  entitle  him  to  the  grati- 
tude of  mankind. 

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RUPERT    OF    HENTZAU. 

FROM   THE   MEMOIRS   OF   FRITZ   VON   TARLENHEIM. 

By  Anthony  Hope. 
Being  the  sequel  to  a  story  by  the  same  writer  entitled  "  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda." 


INTRODUCTION. 


"  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda,"  it  may  be  worth  while 
to  explain,  relates  the  adventures  of  a  young  Eng- 
lishman, Rudolf  Rassendyll,  while  impersonating  his 
distant  relative  Rudolf  Fifth,  King  of  Ruritania.  At 
the  instigation  of  the  king's  half  brother,  the  Duke  of 
Strelsau,  known  as  4i  Black  Michael,"  the  king  was 
drugged  on  the  eve  of  his  coronation,  and  would 
have  lost  his  crown  to  the  duke  but  that,  in  the  nick 
of  time  and  by  a  series  of  strange  chances,  Rassen- 
dyll, who  resembled  him  so  closely  that  few  could 
tell  them  apart,  appeared  and,  in  his  name,  assumed 
the  crown  tor  him.  Meanwhile  the  king  fell  a  pris- 
oner to  the  duke,  and  some  time  passed  before  his 
friends  could  set  him  free  and  defeat  the  duke's  plots. 
Through  this  time  Rassendyll,  under  the  guise  of 
the  king,  continued  to  hold  the  throne  and  exercise 


all  the  royal  functions,  even  to  falling  ardently  in  love 
with  the  Princess  Flavia,  and  provoking  her  to  love 
him  as  ardently  in  return.  Public  expectation  and 
policy  had  designated  this  lady  to  become  the  new 
king's  wife.  The  duke,  **  Black  Michael,"  was 
finally  killed  in  a  quarrel  with  one  of  his  accomplices, 
Rupert  of  Hentzau.  The  Princess  Flavia  had  felt 
from  the  first  a  difference  between  the  assumed  and 
the  real  king  ;  and  before  the  end  the  truth  was 
fully  discovered  to  her.  She  dutifully  married  the 
real  king,  but  her  heart  hardly  went  with  her  hand. 
In  his  adventures  as  king,  Rudolf  Rassendyll  was 
guided  and  aided  chiefly  by  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim, 
who  tells  the  present  story,  and  that  bold,  bluff 
Colonel  Sapt,  with  whom  readers  gratefully  make  or 
renew  acquaintance  here. — Editor. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE    QUEEN'S   GOOD-BY. 

A  MAN  who  has  lived  in  the  world, 
marking  how  every  act,  although  in 
itself  perhaps  light  and  insignificant,  may 
become  the  source  of  consequences  that 
spread  far  and  wide,  and  flow  for  years 
or  centuries,  could  scarcely  feel  secure  in 
reckoning  that  with  the  death  of  the 
Duke  of  Strelsau  and  the  restoration  of 
King  Rudolf  to  liberty  and  his  throne, 
there  would  end,  for  good  and  all,  the 
troubles  born  of  Black  Michael's  daring 
conspiracy.  The  stakes  had  been  high, 
the  struggle  keen;  the  edge  of  passion 
had  been  sharpened,  and  the  seeds  of  en- 
mity sown.  Yet  Michael,  having  struck 
for  the  crown,  had  paid  for  the  blow 
with  his  life:  should  there  not  then  be  an 
end  ?  Michael  was  dead,  the  Princess  her 
cousin's  wife,  the  story  in  safe  keeping, 
and  Mr.  Rassendyll's  face  seen  no  more 
in  Ruritania.  Should  there  not  then  be 
an  end  ?  So  said  I  to  my  friend  the  Con- 
stable of  Zenda,  as  we  talked  by  the  bed- 
side of  Marshal  Strakencz.  The  old 
man,  already  nearing  the  death  that  soon 
after  robbed  us  of  his  aid  and  counsel, 
bowed  his  head  in  assent;  in  tin  aged  and 
ailing  the  love 


But  Colonel  Sapt  tugged  at  his  gray 
moustache,  and  twisted  his  black  cigar  in 
his  mouth,  saying,  "You're  very  san- 
guine, friend  Fritz.  But  is  Rupert  of 
Hentzau  dead  ?     I  had  not  heard  it." 

Well  said,  and  like  old  Sapt!  Yet  the 
man  is  little  without  the  opportunity,  and 
Rupert  by  himself  could  hardly  have 
troubled  our  repose.  Hampered  by  his 
own  guilt,  he  dared  not  set  his  foot  in  the 
kingdom  from  which  by  rare  good  luck  he 
had  escaped,  but  wandered  to  and  fro 
over  Europe,  making  a  living  by  his 
wits,  and,  as  some  said,  adding  to  his  re- 
sources by  gallantries  for  which  he  did 
not  refuse  substantial  recompense.  But 
he  kept  himself  constantly  before  our  eyes, 
and  never  ceased  to  contrive  how  he 
might  gain  permission  to  return  and  enjoy 
the  estates  to  which  his  uncle's  death  had 
entitled  him.  The  chief  agent  through 
whom  he  had  the  effrontery  to  approach 
the  king  was  his  relative,  the  Count  of 
Luzau-Rischenheim,  a  young  man  of  high 
rank  and  great  wealth  who  was  devoted 
to  Rupert.  The  count  fulfilled  his  mis- 
sion well:  acknowledging  Rupert's  heavy 
offences,  he  put  forward  in  his  behalf  the 
pleas  of  youth  and  of  the  predominant 
influence  which  Duke  Michael  had  exer- 
cised over  his  adherent,  and  promised,  in 
words  so  significant  as  to  betray  Rupert's 


A.  H.  Hawkins 


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*3o 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


own  dictation,  a  future  fidelity  no  less 
discreet  than  hearty.  "Give  me  ray 
price  and  I'll  hold  my  tongue,"  seemed 
to  come  in  Rupert's  off-hand  accents 
through  his  cousin's  deferential  lips.  As 
may  be  supposed,  however,  the  king  and 
those  who  advised  him  in  the  matter, 
knowing  too  well  the  manner  of  man  the 
Count  of  Hentzau  was,  were  not  inclined 
to  give  ear  to  his  ambassador's  prayer. 
We  kept  firm  hold  on  Master  Rupert's  rev- 
enues, and  as  good  watch  as  we  could  on 
his  movements;  for  we  were  most  firmly 
determined  that  he  should  never  return  to 
Ruritania.  Perhaps  we  might  have  ob- 
tained his  extradition  and  hanged  him  on 
the  score  of  his  crimes;  but  in  these  days 
every  rogue  who  deserves  no  better  than 
to  be  strung  up  to  the  nearest  tree  must 
have  what  they  call  a  fair  trial;  and  we 
feared  that,  if  Rupert  were  handed  over 
to  our  police  and  arraigned  before  the 
courts  at  Strelsau,  the  secret  which  we 
guarded  so  sedulously  would  become  the 
gossip  of  all  the  city,  aye,  and  of  all 
Europe.  So  Rupert  went  unpunished 
except  by  banishment  and  the  impounding 
of  his  rents. 

Yet  Sapt  was  in  the  right  about  him. 
Helpless  as  he  seemed,  he  did  not  for  an 
instant  abandon  the  contest.  He  lived  in 
the  faith  that  his  chance  would  come,  and 
from  day  to  day  was  ready  for  its  coming. 
He  schemed  against  us  as  we  schemed  to 
protect  ourselves  from  him;  if  we  watched 
him,  he  kept  his  eye  on  us.  His  ascend- 
ancy over  Luzau-Rischenheim  grew  mark- 
edly greater  after  a  visit  which  his  cousin 
paid  to  him  in  Paris.  From  this  time  the 
young  count  began  to  supply  him  with  re- 
sources. Thus  armed,  he  gathered  instru- 
ments round  him  and  organized  a  system 
of  espionage  that  carried  to  his  ears  all 
our  actions  and  the  whole  position  of 
affairs  at  court.  He  knew,  far  more  ac- 
curately than  anyone  else  outside  the 
royal  circle,  the  measures  taken  for  the 
government  of  the  kingdom  and  the  con- 
siderations that  dictated  the  royal  policy. 
More  than  this,  he  possessed  himself  of 
every  detail  concerning  the  king's  health, 
although  the  utmost  reticence  was  ob- 
served on  this  subject.  Had  his  discov- 
eries stopped  there,  they  would  have  been 
vexatious  and  disquieting,  but  perhaps  of 
little  serious  harm.  They  went  further. 
Set  on  the  track  by  his  acquaintance  with 
what  had  passed  during  Mr.  Rassendyll's 
tenure  of  the  throne,  he  penetrated  the 
secret  which  had  been  kept  successfully 
from  the  king  himself.     In  the  knowledge 


of  it  he  found  the  opportunity  for  which 
he  had  waited;  in  its  bold  use  he  discerned 
his  chance.  I  cannot  say  whether  he  were 
influenced  more  strongly  by  his  desire  to 
reestablish  his  position  in  the  kingdom  or 
by  the  grudge  he  bore  against  Mr.  Rassen- 
dyll.  He  loved  power  and  money;  dearly 
he  loved  revenge  also.  No  doubt  both 
motives  worked  together,  and  he  was  re- 
joiced to  find  that  the  weapon  put  into  his 
hand  had  a  double  edge;  with  one  he 
hoped  to  cut  his  own  path  clear;  with  the 
other,  to  wound  the  man  he  hated  through 
the  woman  whom  that  man  loved.  In  fine, 
the  Count  of  Hentzau,  shrewdly  discern- 
ing the  feeling  that  existed  between  the 
queen  and  Rudolf  Rassendyll,  set  his 
spies  to  work,  and  was  rewarded  by  dis- 
covering the  object  of  my  yearly  meetings 
with  Mr.  Rassendyll.  At  least  he  conjec- 
tured the  nature  of  my  errand;  this  was 
enough  for  him.  Head  and  hand  were 
soon  busy  in  turning  the  knowledge  to  ac- 
count; scruples  of  the  heart  never  stood 
in  Rupert's  way. 

The  marriage  which  had  set  all  Rurita- 
nia on  fire  with  joy  and  formed  in  the 
people's  eyes  the  visible  triumph  over 
Black  Michael  and  his  fellow-conspirators 
was  now  three  years  old.  For  three  years 
the  Princess  Flavia  had  been  queen.  I  am 
come  by  now  to  the  age  when  a  man  should 
look  out  on  life  with  an  eye  undimmed 
by  the  mists  of  passion.  My  love-mak- 
ing days  are  over;  yet  there  is  nothing 
for  which  I  am  more  thankful  to  Almighty 
God  than  the  gift  of  my  wife's  love.  In 
storm  it  has  been  my  anchor,  and  in  clear 
skies  my  star.  But  we  common  folk  are 
free  to  follow  our  hearts;  am  I  an  old 
fool  for  saying  that  he  is  a  fool  who  fol- 
lows anything  else  ?  Our  liberty  is  not 
for  princes.  We  need  wait  for  no  future 
world  to  balance  the  luck  of  men;  even 
here  there  is  an  equipoise.  From  the 
highly  placed  a  price  is  exacted  for  their 
state,  their  wealth,  and  their  honors,  as 
heavy  as  these  are  great;  to  the  poor, 
what  is  to  us  mean  and  of  no  sweet- 
ness may  appear  decked  in  the  robes  of 
pleasure  and  delight.  Well,  if  it  were  not 
so,  who  could  sleep  at  nights  ?  The  bur- 
den laid  on  Queen  Flavia  I  knew,  and 
know,  so  well  as  a  man  can  know  it.  I 
think  it  needs  a  woman  to  know  it  fully; 
for  even  now  my  wife's  eyes  fill  with 
tears  when  we  speak  of  it.  Yet  she  bore 
it,  and  if  she  failed  in  anything,  I  wonder 
that  it  was  in  so  little.  For  it  was  not 
only  that  she  had  never  loved  the  king 
and  had  loved  another  with  all  her  heart. 


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ANTHONY  HOPE, 


131 


The  king's  health,  shattered  by  the  hor- 
ror and  rigors  of  his  imprisonment  in  the 
castle  of  Zenda,  soon  broke  utterly.  He 
lived,  indeed;  nay,  he  shot  and  hunted, 
and  kept  in  his  hand  some  measure,  at 
least,  of  government.  But  always  from 
the  day  of  his  release  he  was  a  fretful  in- 
valid, different  utterly  from  the  gay  and 
jovial  prince  whom  Michael's  villains  had 
caught  in  the  shooting-lodge.  There  was 
worse  than  this.  As  time  went  on,  the 
first  impulse  of  gratitude  and  admiration 
that  he  had  felt  towards  Mr.  Rassendyll 
died  away.  He  came  to  brood  more  and 
more  on  what  had  passed  while  he  was  a 
prisoner;  he  was  possessed  not  only  by  a 
haunting  dread  of  Rupert  of  Hentzau,  at 
whose  hands  he  had  suffered  so  greatly, 
but  also  by  a  morbid,  half-mad  jealousy 
of  Mr.  Rassendyll.  Rudolf  had  played 
the  hero  while  he  lay  helpless.  Rudolf's 
were  the  exploits  for  which  his  own  people 
cheered  him  in  his  own  capital.  Rudolf's 
were  the  laurels  that  crowned  his  impatient 
brow.  He  had  enough  nobility  to  resent 
his  borrowed  credit,  without  the  fortitude 
to  endure  it  manfully.  And  the  hateful 
comparison  struck  him  nearer  home. 
Sapt  would  tell  him  bluntly  that  Rudolf 
did  this  or  that,  set  this  precedent  or  that, 
laid  down  this  or  the  other  policy,  and 
that  the  king  could  do  no  better  than  fol- 
low in  Rudolf's  steps.  Mr.  Rassendyll's 
name  seldom  passed  his  wife's  lips,  but 
when  she  spoke  of  him  it  was  as  one 
speaks  of  a  great  man  who  is  dead,  belit- 
tling all  the  living  by  the  shadow  of  his 
name.  I  do  not  believe  that  the  king 
discerned  that  truth  which  his  wife  spent 
her  days  in  hiding  from  him;  yet  he  was 
uneasy  if  Rudolf's  name  were  mentioned 
by  Sapt  or  myself,  and  from  the  queen's 
mouth  he  could  not  bear  it.  I  have  seen 
him  fall  into  fits  of  passion  on  the  mere 
sound  of  it;  for  he  lost  control  of  himself 
on  what  seemed  slight  provocation. 

Moved  by  this  disquieting  jealousy,  he 
sought  continually  to  exact  from  the 
queen  proofs  of  love  and  care  beyond 
what  most  husbands  can  boast  of,  or,  in 
my  humble  judgment,  make  good  their 
right  to,  always  asking  of  her  what  in  his 
heart  he  feared  was  not  hers  to  give. 
Much  she  did  in  pity  and  in  duty;  but  in 
some  moments,  being  but  human  and 
herself  a  woman  of  high  temper,  she 
failed;  then  the  slight  rebuff  or  involuntary 
coldness  was  magnified  by  a  sick  man's 
fancy  into  great  offence  or  studied  insult, 
and  nothing  that  she  could  do  would 
atone  for  it.      Thus  they,  who  had  never 


in  truth  come  together,  drifted  yet  further 
apart;  he  was  alone  in  his  sickness  and 
suspicion,  she  in  her  sorrows  and  her 
memories.  There  was  no  child  to  bridge 
the  gulf  between  them,  and  although  she 
was  his  queen  and  his  wife,  she  grew 
almost  a  stranger  to  him.  So  he  seemed 
to  will  that  it  should  be. 

Thus,  worse  than  widowed,  she  lived  for 
three  years;  and  once  only  in  each  year 
she  sent  three  words  to  the  man  she  loved, 
and  received  from  him  three  words  in  an- 
swer. Then  her  strength  failed  her.  A 
pitiful  scene  had  occurred  in  which  the 
king  peevishly  upbraided  her  in  regard 
to  some  trivial  matter — the  occasion  es- 
capes my  memory — speaking  to  her  before 
others  words  that  even  alone  she  could 
not  have  listened  to  with  dignity.  I  was 
there,  and  Sapt;  the  colonel's  small  eyes 
had  gleamed  in  anger.  "  I  should  like  to 
shut  his  mouth  for  him,"  I  heard  him 
mutter,  for  the  king's  waywardness  had 
well  nigh  worn  out  even  his  devotion.  The 
thing,  of  which  I  will  say  no  more,  hap- 
pened a  day  or  two  before  I  was  to  set  out 
to  meet  Mr.  Rassendyll.  I  was  to  seek  him 
this  time  at  Wintenberg,  for  I  had  been 
recognized  the  year  before  at  Dresden; 
and  Wintenberg,  being  a  smaller  place  and 
less  in  the  way  of  chance  visitors,  was 
deemed  safer.  I  remember  well  how  she 
was  when  she  called  me  into  her  own  room, 
a  few  hours  after  she  had  left  the  king. 
She  stood  by  the  table;  the  box  was  on 
it,  and  I  knew  well  that  the  red  rose  and 
the  message  were  within.  But  there  was 
more  to-day.  Without  preface  she  broke 
into  the  subject  of  my  errand. 

41 1  must  write  to  him,"  she  said.  "I 
can't  bear  it,  I  must  write.  My  dear 
friend  Fritz,  you  will  carry  it  safely  for 
me,  won't  you  ?  And  he  must  write  to  me. 
And  you'll  bring  that  safely,  won't  you  ? 
Ah,  Fritz,  I  know  I'm  wrong,  but  I'm 
starved,  starved,  starved  !  And  it's  for 
the  last  time.  For  I  know  now  that  if  I 
send  anything,  I  must  send  more.  So 
after  this  time  I  won't  send  at  all.  But  I 
must  say  good-by  to  him;  I  must  have 
his  good-by  to  carry  me  through  my  life. 
This  once,  then,  Fritz,  do  it  for  me." 

The  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks,  which 
to-day  were  flushed  out  of  their  paleness 
to  a  stormy  red ;  her  eyes  defied  me  even 
while  they  pleaded.  I  bent  my  head  and 
kissed  her  hand. 

"  WTith  God's  help  I'll  carry  it  safely  and 
bring  his  safely,  my  queen,"  said  I. 

"And  tell  me  how  he  looks.  Look  at 
him  closely,  Fritz.  See  if  he  is  well  and 
Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


132 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


seems  strong.  Oh,  and  make  him  merry 
and  happy!  Bring  that  smile  to  his  lips, 
Fritz,  and  the  merry  twinkle  to  his  eyes. 
When  you  speak  of  me,  see  if  he — if  he 
looks  as  if  he  still  loved  me."  But  then 
she  broke  off,  crying,  "  But  don't  tell 
him  I  said  that.  He'd  be  grieved  if  I 
doubted  his  love.  I  don't  doubt  it;  I 
don't,  indeed;  but  still  tell  me  how  he 
looks  when  you  speak  of  me,  won't  you, 
Fritz  ?     See,  here's  the  letter." 

Taking  it  from  her  bosom,  she  kissed  it 
before  she  gave  it  to  me.  Then  she  added 
a  thousand  cautions,  how  I  was  to  carry  her 
letter,  how  I  was  to  go  and  how  return,  and 
how  I  was  to  run  no  danger,  because  my 
wife  Helga  loved  me  as  well  as  she  would 
have  loved  her  husband  had  Heaven  been 
kinder.  "At  least,  almost  as  I  should, 
Fritz,"  she  said,  now  between  smiles  and 
tears.  She  would  not  believe  that  any 
woman  could  love  as  she  loved. 

I  left  the  queen  and  went  to  prepare  for 
my  journey.  I  used  to  take  only  one  ser- 
vant with  me,  and  I  had  chosen  a  different 
man  each  year.  None  of  them  had  known 
that  I  met  Mr.  Rassendyll,  but  supposed 
that  I  was  engaged  on  the  private  business 
which  I  made  my  pretext  for  obtaining 
leave  of  absence  from  the  king.  This 
time  I  had  determined  to  take  with  me  a 
Swiss  youth  who  had  entered  my  service 
only  a  few  weeks  before.  His  name  was 
Bauer;  he  seemed  a  stolid,  somewhat  stu- 
pid fellow,  but  as  honest  as  the  day  and 
very  obliging.  He  had  come  to  me  well 
recommended,  and  I  had  not  hesitated  to 
engage  him.  I  chose  him  for  my  compan- 
ion now,  chiefly  because  he  was  a  for- 
eigner and  therefore  less  likely  to  gossip 
with  the  other  servants  when  we  returned. 
I  do  not  pretend  to  much  cleverness,  but 
I  confess  that  it  vexes  me  to  remember 
how  that  stout,  guileless-looking  youth 
made  a  fool  of  me.  For  Rupert  knew 
that  I  had  met  Mr.  Rassendyll  the  year 
before  at  Dresden;  Rupert  was  keeping  a 
watchful  eye  on  all  that  passed  in  Strel- 
sau;  Rupert  had  procured  the  fellow  his 
fine  testimonials  and  sent  him  to  me,  in 
the  hope  that  he  would  chance  on  some- 
thing of  advantage  to  his  employer.  My 
resolve  to  take  him  to  Wintenberg  may 
have  been  hoped  for,  but  could  scarcely 
have  been  counted  on;  it  was  the  added 
luck  that  waits  so  often  on  the  plans  of  a 
clever  schemer. 

Going  to  take  leave  of  the  king,  I 
found  him  huddled  over  the  fire.  The 
day  was  not  cold,  but  the  damp  chill  of 
his  dungeon    seemed   to   have  penetrated 


to  the  very  core  of  his  bones.  He  was 
annoyed  at  my  going,  and  questioned  me 
peevishly  about  the  business  that  occa- 
sioned my  journey.  I  parried  his  curios- 
ity as  I  best  could,  but  did  not  succeed  in 
appeasing  his  ill-humor.  Half-ashamed 
of  his  recent  outburst,  half-anxious  to 
justify  it  to  himself,  he  cried  fretfully: 

"  Business!  Yes,  any  business  is  a  good 
enough  excuse  for  leaving  me!  By 
Heaven,  I  wonder  if  a  king  was  ever 
served  so  badly  as  I  am!  Why  did  you 
trouble  to  get  me  out  of  Zenda  ?  Nobody 
wants  me,  nobody  cares  whether  I  live  or 
die." 

To  reason  with  such  a  mood  was  impos- 
sible. I  could  only  assure  him  that  I 
would  hasten  my  return  by  all  possible 
means. 

"Yes,  pray  do,"  said  he.  "I  want 
somebody  to  look  after  me.  Who  knows 
what  that  villain  Rupert  may  attempt 
against  me  ?  And  I  can't  defend  myself, 
can  I  ?   I'm  not  Rudolf  Rassendyll,  am  I  ? " 

Thus,  with  a  mixUire  of  plaintiveness 
and  malice,  he  scolded  me.  At  last  I 
stood  silent,  waiting  till  he  should  be 
pleased  to  dismiss  me.  At  any  rate  I  was 
thankful  that  he  entertained  no  suspicion 
as  to  my  errand.  Had  I  spoken  a  word  of 
Mr.  Rassendyll  he  would  not  have  let  me 
go.  He  had  fallen  foul  of  me  before  on 
learning  that  I  was  in  communication  with 
Rudolf;  so  completely  had  jealousy  de- 
stroyed gratitude  in  his  breast.  If  he  had 
known  what  I  carried,  I  do  not  think  that 
he  could  have  hated  his  preserver  more. 
Very  likely  some  such  feeling  was  natural 
enough;  it  was  none  the  less  painful  to 
perceive. 

On  leaving  the  king's  presence,  I  sought 
out  the  Constable  of  Zenda.  He  knew 
my  errand;  and,  sitting  down  beside  him, 
I  told  him  of  the  letter  I  carried,  and 
arranged  how  to  apprise  him  of  my  for- 
tune surely  and  quickly.  He  was  not  in 
a  good  humor  that  day:  the  king  had 
ruffled  him  also,  and  Colonel  Sapt  had  no 
great  reserve  of  patience. 

14  If  we  haven't  cut  one  another's  throats 
before  then,  we  shall  all  be  at  Zenda  by 
the  time  you  arrive  at  Wintenberg,"  he 
said.  "The  court  moves  there  to-mor- 
row, and  I  shall  be  there  as  long  as  the 
king  is." 

He  paused,  and  then  added:  "  Destroy 
the  letter  if  there's  any  danger." 

I  nodded  my  head. 

44  And  destroy  yourself  with  it,  if  that's 
the  only  way,"  he  went  on  with  a  surly 
smile.      "  Heaven    knows   why  she  must 


Digitized  by 


Google 


ANTHONY  HOPE. 


*33 


send  such  a  silly  message  at  all;  but  since 
she  must,  she'd  better  have  sent  me  with 
it." 

I  knew  that  Sapt  was  in  the  way  of  jeer- 
ing at  all  sentiment,  and  I  took  no  notice 
of  the  terms  that  he  applied  to  the  queen's 
farewell.  I  contented  myself  with  an- 
swering the  last  part  of  what  he  said. 

44  No,  it's  better  you  should  be  here,"  I 
urged.  "  For  if  I  should  lose  the  letter 
— though  there's  little  chance  of  it — you 
could  prevent  it  from  coming  to  the  king." 

44 1  could  try,"  he  grinned.  "But  on 
my  life,  to  run  the  chance  for  a  letter's 
sake!  A  letter's  a  poor  thing  to  risk  the 
peace  of  a  kingdom  for!  " 

"Unhappily,"  said  I,  "it's  the  only 
thing  that  a  messenger  can  well  carry." 

44  Off  with  you,  then,"  grumbled  the 
colonel.  "  Tell  Rassendyll  from  me  that 
he  did  well.  But  tell  him  to  do  something 
more.  Let  'em  say  good-by  and  have 
done  with  it.  Good  God,  is  he  going  to 
waste  all  his  life  thinking  of  a  woman  he 
never  sees?"  Sapt's  air  was  full  of  in- 
dignation. 

44  What  more  is  he  to  do?"  I  asked. 
•*  Isn't  his  work  here  done  ? " 

44  Ay,  it's  done.  Perhaps  it's  done," 
he  answered.  "  At  least  he  has  given  us 
back  our  good  king." 

To  lay  on  the  king  the  full  blame  for 
what  he  was  would  have  been  rank  injus- 
tice. Sapt  was  not  guilty  of  it,  but  his 
disappointment  was  bitter  that  all  our 
efforts  had  secured  no  better  ruler  for 
Ruritania.  Sapt  could  serve,  but  he 
liked  his  master  to  be  a  man. 

"  Ay,  I'm  afraid  the  lad's  work  here  is 
done,"  he  said,  as  I  shook  him  by  the 
hand.  Then  a  sudden  light  came  in  his 
eyes.  "  Perhaps  not,"  he  muttered. 
•'Who  knows?" 

A  man  need  not,  I  hope,  be  deemed 
uxorious  for  liking  a  quiet  dinner  alone 
with  his  wife  before  he  starts  on  a  long 
journey.  Such,  at  least,  was  my  fancy ;  and 
I  was  annoyed  to  find  that  Helga's  cousin, 
Anton  von  Strofzin,  had  invited  himself  to 
share  our  meal  and  our  farewell.  He 
conversed  with  his  usual  airy  emptiness 
on  all  the  topics  that  were  supplying 
Strelsau  with  gossip.  There  were  rumors 
that  the  king  was  ill;  that  the  queen  was 
angry  at  being  carried  off  to  Zenda;  that 
the  archbishop  meant  to  preach  against 
low  dresses;  that  the  chancellor  was  to  be 
dismissed;  that  his  daughter  was  to  be 
married;  and  so  forth.  I  heard  without 
listening.  But  the  last  bit  of  his  budget 
caught  my  wandering  attention. 


44  They  were  betting  at  the  club,"  said 
Anton,  44that  Rupert  of  Hentzau  would 
be  recalled.  Have  you  heard  anything 
about  it,  Fritz  ?" 

If  I  had  known  anything,  it  is  needless 
to  say  that  I  should  not  have  confided  it 
to  Anton.  But  the  suggested  step  was  so 
utterly  at  variance  with  the  king's  inten- 
tions that  I  made  no  difficulty  about  con- 
tradicting the  report  with  an  authoritative 
air.  Anton  heard  me  with  a  judicial 
wrinkle  on  his  smooth  brow. 

44  That's  all  very  well,"  said  he,  "and 
I  dare  say  you're  bound  to  say  so.  All  I 
know  is  that  Rischenheim  dropped  a  hint 
to  Colonel  Markel  a  day  or  two  ago." 

41  Rischenheim  believes  what  he  hopes," 
said  I. 

44  And  where's  he  gone  ?  "  cried  Anton, 
exultantly.  "  Why  has  he  suddenly  left 
Strelsau  ?  I  tell  you  he's  gone  to  meet 
Rupert,  and  I'll  bet  you  what  you  like  he 
carries  some  proposal.  Ah,  you  don't 
know  everything,  Fritz,  my  boy!  " 

It  was  indeed  true  that  I  did  not  know 
everything.  I  made  haste  to  admit  as 
much.  "I  didn't  even  know  that  the 
count  was  gone,  much  less  why  he's 
gone,"  said  I. 

44  You  see!  "  exclaimed  Anton.  And  he 
added,  patronizingly,  "You  should  keep 
your  ears  open,  my  boy;  then  you  might 
be  worth  what  the  king  pays  you." 

44  No  less,  I  trust,"  said  I,  "  for  he 
pays  me  nothing."  Indeed,  at  this  time  I 
held  no  office  save  the  honorary  position 
of  chamberlain  to  Her  Majesty.  Any 
advice  the  king  needed  from  me  was 
asked  and  given  unofficially. 

Anton  went  off,  persuaded  that  he  had 
scored  a  point  against  me.  I  could  not  see 
where.  It  was  possible  that  the  Count  of 
Luzau-Rischenheim  had  gone  to  meet  his 
cousin,  equally  possible  that  no  such  busi- 
ness claimed  his  care.  At  any  rate,  the 
matter  was  not  for  me.  I  had  a  more 
pressing  affair  in  hand.  Dismissing  the 
whole  thing  from  my  mind,  I  bade  the 
butler  tell  Bauer  to  go  forward  with  my 
luggage  and  to  let  my  carriage  be  at  the 
door  in  good  time.  Helga  had  busied 
herself,  since  our  guest's  departure,  in 
preparing  small  comforts  for  my 'journey; 
now  she  came  to  me  to  say  good-by.  Al- 
though she  tried  to  hide  all  signs  of  it,.  I 
detected  an  uneasiness  in  her  manner. 
She  did  not  like  these  errands  of  mine, 
imagining  dangers  and  risks  of  which  I 
saw  no  likelihood.  I  would  not  give  in 
to  her  mood,  and,  as  I  kissed  her,  I  bade 
her  expect  me  back  in  a  few  days'  time. 

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134 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


Not  even  to  her  did  I  speak  of  the  new 
and  more  dangerous  burden  that  I  car- 
ried, although  I  was  aware  that  she  en- 
joyed a  full  measure  of  the  queen's  con- 
fidence. 

"  My  love  to  King  Rudolf,  the  real 
King  Rudolf,"  said  she.  "Though  you 
carry  what  will  make  him  think  little  of 
my  love." 

44 1  have  no  desire  he  should  think  too 
much  of  it,  sweet,"  said  I. 

She  caught  me  by  the  hands,  and  looked 
up  in  my  face. 

"What  a  friend  you  are,  aren't  you, 
Fritz?"  said  she.  "You  worship  Mr. 
Rassendyll.  I  know  you  think  I  should 
worship  him  too,  if  he  asked  me.  Well, 
I  shouldn't.  I  am  foolish  enough  to  have 
my  own  idol."  All  my  modesty  did  not 
let  me  doubt  who  her  idol  might  be.  Sud- 
denly she  drew  near  to  me  and  whispered 
in  my  ear.  I  think  that  our  own  happiness 
brought  to  her  a  sudden  keen  sympathy 
with  her  mistress. 

"  Make  him  send  her  a  loving  message, 
Fritz,"  she  whispered.  "Something  that 
will  comfort  her.  Her  idol  can't  be  with 
her  as  mine  is  with  me." 

11  Yes,  he'll  send  something  to  comfort 
her,"  I  answered.  "  And  God  keep  you, 
my  dear." 

For  he  would  surely  send  an  answer  to 
the  letter  that  I  carried,  and  that  answer 
I  was  sworn  to  bring  safely  to  her.  So  I 
set  out  in  good  heart,  bearing  in  the 
pocket  of  my  coat  the  little  box  and  the 
queen's  good-by.  And,  as  Colonel  Sapt 
said  to  me,  both  I  would  destroy,  if  need 
were — aye,  and  myself  with  them.  A  man 
did  not  serve  Queen  Flavia  with  divided 
mind. 

CHAPTER   II. 

A    STATION    WITHOUT    A    CAB. 

The  arrangements  for  my  meeting  with 
Mr.  Rassendyll  had  been  carefully  made 
by  correspondence  before  he  left  England. 
He  was  to  be  at  the  Golden  Lion  Hotel  at 
eleven  o'clock  on  the  night  of  the  15th  of 
October.  I  reckoned  to  arrive  in  the 
town  between  eight  and  nine  on  the  same 
evening,  to  proceed  to  another  hotel,  and, 
on  pretence  of  taking  a  stroll,  slip  out  and 
call  on  him  at  the  appointed  hour.  I 
should  then  fulfil  my  commission,  take  his 
answer,  and  enjoy  the  rare  pleasure  of 
a  long  talk  with  him.  Early  the  next 
morning  he  would  have  left  Wintenberg, 
and  I  should  be  on  my  way  back  to  Strel- 


sau.  I  knew  that  he  would  not  fail  to 
keep  his  appointment,  and  1  was  perfectly 
confident  of  being  able  to  carry  out  the 
programme  punctually;  I  had,  however, 
taken  the  precaution  of  obtaining  a  week's 
leave  of  absence,  in  case  any  unforeseen 
accident  should  delay  my  return.  Con- 
scious of  having  done  all  I  could  to  guard 
against  misunderstanding  or  mishap,  I  got 
into  the  train  in  a  tolerably  peaceful 
frame  of  mind.  The  box  was  in  my  inner 
pocket,  the  letter  in  a  porte-monnaie.  I 
could  feel  them  both  with  my  hand.  I 
was  not  in  uniform,  but  I  took  my  revolver. 
Although  I  had  no  reason  to  anticipate 
any  difficulties,  I  did  not  forget  that  what 
I  carried  must  be  protected  at  all  hazards 
and  all  costs. 

The  weary  night  journey  wore  itself 
away.  Bauer  came  to  me  in  the  morning, 
performed  his  small  services,  repacked  my 
hand-bag,  procured  me  some  coffee,  and 
left  me.  It  was  then  about  eight  o'clock ; 
we  had  arrived  at  a  station  of  some  impor- 
tance and  were  not  to  stop  again  till  mid- 
day. I  saw  Bauer  enter  the  second-class 
compartment  in  which  he  was  traveling, 
and  settled  down  in  my  own  coup£.  I 
think  it  was  at  this  moment  that  the 
thought  of  Rischenheim  came  again  into 
my  head,  and  I  found  myself  wondering 
why  he  clung  to  the  hopeless  idea  of  com- 
passing Rupert's  return  and  what  busi- 
ness had  taken  him  from  Strelsau.  But  I 
made  little  of  the  matter,  and,  drowsy 
from  a  broken  night's  rest,  soon  fell  into 
a  doze.  I  was  alone  in  the  carriage  and 
could  sleep  without  fear  or  danger.  I  was 
awakened  by  our  noon-tide  halt.  Here  I 
saw  Bauer  again.  After  taking  a  basin  of 
soup,  I  went  to  the  telegraph  bureau  to 
send  a  message  to  my  wife;  the  receipt  of 
it  would  not  merely  set  her  mind  at  ease, 
but  would  also  ensure  word  of  my  safe 
progress  reaching  the  queen.  As  I  en- 
tered the  bureau  I  met  Bauer  coming  out 
of  it.  He  seemed  rather  startled  at  our 
encounter,  but  told  me  readily  enough  that 
he  had  been  telegraphing  for  rooms  at 
Wintenberg,  a  very  needless  precaution, 
since  there  was  no  danger  of  the  hotel 
being  full.  In  fact  I  was  annoyed,  as  I 
especially  wished  to  avoid  calling  atten- 
tion to  my  arrival.  However,  the  mischief 
was  done,  and  to  rebuke  my  servant  might 
have  aggravated  it  by  setting  his  wits  at 
work  to  find  out  my  motive  for  secrecy. 
So  I  said  nothing,  but  passed  by  him  with 
a  nod.  When  the  whole  circumstances 
came  to  light,  I  had  reason  to  suppose 
that  besides  his  message  to  the  inn-keeper, 

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ANTHONY  HOPE, 


135 


Bauer  sent  one  of  a  character  and  to  a 
quarter  unsuspected  by  me. 

We  stopped  once  again  before  reaching 
Wintenberg.  I  put  my  head  out  of  the  win- 
dow to  look  about  me,  and  saw  Bauer 
standing  near  the  luggage  van.  He  ran  to 
me  eagerly,  asking  whether  I  required 
anything.  I  told  him  "nothing";  but 
instead  of  going  away,  he  began  to  talk 
to  me.  Growing  weary  of  him,  I  returned 
to  my  seat  and  waited  impatiently  for  the 
train  to  go  on.  There  was  a  further  delay 
of  five  minutes,  and  then  we  started. 

"  Thank  goodness!  "  I  exclaimed,  lean- 
ing back  comfortably  in  my  seat  and 
taking  a  cigar  from  my  case. 

But  in  a  moment  the  cigar  rolled  un- 
heeded on  to  the  floor,  as  I  sprang  eagerly 
to  my  feet  and  darted  to  the  window.  For 
just  as  we  were  clearing  the  station,  I  saw 
being  carried  past  the  carriage,  on  the 
shoulders  of  a  porter,  a  bag  which  looked 
very  much  like  mine.  Bauer  had  been  in 
Charge  of  my  bag,  and  it  had  been  put  in 
the  van  under  his  directions.  It  seemed 
unlikely  that  it  should  be  taken  out  now 
by  any  mistake.  Yet  the  bag  I  saw  was 
very  like  the  bag  I  owned.  But  I  was  not 
sure,  and  could  have  done  nothing  had  I 
been  sure.  We  were  not  to  stop  again 
before  Wintenberg,  and,  with  my  luggage 
or  without  it,  I  myself  must  be  in  the 
town  that  evening. 

We  arrived  punctual  to  our  appointed 
time.  I  sat  in  the  carriage  a  moment  or 
two,  expecting  Bauer  to  open  the  door 
and  relieve  me  of  my  small  baggage.  He 
did  not  come,  so  I  got  out.  It  seemed 
that  I  had  few  fellow-passengers,  and 
these  were  quickly  disappearing  on  foot  or 
in  carriages  and  carts  that  waited  outside 
the  station.  I  stood  looking  for  my  ser- 
vant and  my  luggage.  The  evening  was 
mild;  I  was  encumbered  with  my  hand- 
bag and  a  heavy  fur  coat.  There  were  no 
signs  either  of  Bauer  or  of  baggage.  I 
stayed  where  I  was  for  five  or  six  minutes. 
The  guard  of  the  train  had  disappeared, 
but  presently  I  observed  the  station-mas- 
ter; he  seemed  to  be  taking  a  last  glance 
round  the  premises.  Going  up  to  him  I 
asked  whether  he  had  seen  my  servant; 
he  could  give  me  no  news  of  him.  I  had 
no  luggage  ticket,  for  mine  had  been  in 
Bauer's  hands  ;  but  I  prevailed  on  him  to 
allow  me  to  look  at  the  baggage  which 
had  arrived;  my  property  was  not  among 
it.  The  station-master  was  inclined,  I 
think,  ta  be  a  little  skeptical  as  to  the  ex- 
istence both  of  bag  and  of  servant.  His 
only  suggestion  was  that  the  man  must 


have  been  left  behind  accidentally.  I 
pointed  out  that  in  this  case  he  would  not 
have  had  the  bag  with  him,  but  that  it 
would  have  come  on  in  the  train.  The 
station-master  admitted  the  force  of  my 
argument;  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
spread  his  hands  out;  he  was  evidently  at 
the  end  of  his  resources. 

Now,  for  the  first  time  and  with  sud- 
den force,  a  doubt  of  Bauer's  fidelity 
thrust  itself  into  my  mind.  I  remembered 
how  little  I  knew  of  the  fellow  and  how 
great  my  charge  was.  Three  rapid  move- 
ments of  my  hand  assured  me  that  letter, 
box,  and  revolver  were  in  their  respec- 
tive places.  If  Bauer  had  gone  hunting 
in  the  bag,  he  had  drawn  a  blank.  The 
station-master  noticed  nothing;  he  was 
staring  at  the  dim  gas  lamp  that  hung 
from  the  roof.     I  turned  to  him. 

"  Well,  tell  him  when  he  comes — "  I  be- 
gan. 

"  He  won't  come  to-night,  now,"  inter- 
rupted the  station-master,  none  too  po- 
litely.    "  No  other  train  arrives  to-night." 

"  Tell  him  when  he  does  come  to  follow 
me  at  once  to  the  Wintenbergerhof.  I'm 
going  there  immediately."  For  time  was 
short,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  keep  Mr. 
Rassendyll  waiting.  Besides,  in  my  new- 
born nervousness,  I  was  anxious  to  accom- 
plish my  errand  as  soon  as  might  be. 
What  had  become  of  Bauer  ?  The  thought 
returned,  and  now  with  it  another,  that 
seemed  to  connect  itself  in  some  subtle 
way  with  my  present  position:  why  and 
whither  had  the  Count  of  Luzau-Rischen- 
heim  set  out  from  Strelsau  a  day  before  I 
started  on  my  journey  to  Wintenberg  ? 

"If  he  comes  I'll  tell  him,"  said  the 
station-master,  and  as  he  spoke  he  looked 
round  the  yard. 

There  was  not  a  cab  to  be  seen  !  I 
knew  that  the  station  lay  on  the  extreme 
outskirts  of  the  town,  for  I  had  passed 
through  Wintenberg  on  my  wedding 
journey,  nearly  three  years  before.  The 
trouble  involved  in  walking,  and  the  fur- 
ther waste  of  time,  put  the  cap  on  my  irri- 
tation. 

"Why  don't  you  have  enough  cabs?" 
I  asked  angrily. 

"There  are  plenty  generally,  sir,"  he 
answered  more  civilly,  with  an  apologetic 
air.  "There  would  be  to-night  but  for 
an  accident." 

Another  accident!  This  expedition  of 
mine  seemed  doomed  to  be  the  sport  of 
chance. 

"Just  before  your  train  arrived,"  he 
continued,  "a  local  came  in.>    As  a  rule, 

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136 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


hardly  anybody  comes  by  it,  but  to-night 
a  number  of  men — oh,  twenty  or  five-and- 
twenty,  I  should  think — got  out.  I  col- 
lected their  tickets  myself,  and  they  all 
came  from  the  first  station  on  the  line. 
Well,  that's  not  so  strange,  for  there's  a 
good  beer-garden  there.  But,  curiously 
enough,  every  one  of  them  hired  a  sepa- 
rate cab  and  drove  off,  laughing  and 
shouting  to  one  another  as  they  went. 
That's  how  it  happens  that  there  were 
only  one  or  two  cabs  left  when  your  train 
came  in,  and  they  were  snapped  up  at 
once." 

Taken  alone,  this  occurrence  was  noth- 
ing ;  but  I  asked  myself  whether  the  con- 
spiracy that  had  robbed  me  of  my  servant 
had  deprived  me  of  a  .vehicle  also. 

"What  sort  of  men  were  they?"  I 
asked. 

"All  sorts  of  men,  sir,"  answered  the. 
station-master,  "  but  most  of  them  were 
shabby-looking  fellows.  I  wondered 
where  some  of  them  had  got  the  money  for 
their  ride." 

The  vague  feeling  of  uneasiness  which 
had  already  attacked  me  grew  stronger. 
Although  I  fought  against  it,  calling  my- 
self an  old  woman  and  a  coward,  I  must 
confess  to  an  impulse  which  almost  made 
me  beg  the  station-master's  company  on 
my  walk;  but,  besides  being  ashamed  to 
exhibit  a  timidity  apparently  groundless, 
I  was  reluctant  to  draw  attention  to  my- 
self in  any  way.  I  would  not  for  the 
world  have  it  supposed  that  I  carried  any- 
thing of  value. 

"Well,  there's  no  help  for  it,"  said  I, 
and,  buttoning  my  heavy  coat  about  me, 
I  took  my  handbag  and  stick  in  one  hand, 
and  asked  my  way  to  the  hotel.  My 
misfortunes  had  broken  down  the  station- 
master's  indifference,  and  he  directed  me 
in  a  sympathetic  tone. 

"  Straight  along  the  road,  sir,"  said  he, 
"  between  the  poplars,  for  hard  on  half  a 
mile;  then  the  nouses  begin,  and  your 
hotel  is  in  the  first  square  you  come  to,  on 
the  right." 

I  thanked  him  curtly  (for  I  had  not  quite 
forgiven  him  his  earlier  incivility),  and 
started  on  my  walk,  weighed  down  by  my 
big  coat  and  the  handbag.  When  I  left 
the  lighted  station-yard  I  realized  that  the 
evening  had  fallen  very  dark,  and  the 
shade  of  the  tall  lank  trees  intensified  the 
gloom.  I  could  hardly  see  my  way,  and 
went  timidly,  with  frequent  stumbles  over 
the  uneven  stones  of  the  road.  The  lamps 
were  dim,  few,  and  widely  separated;  so 
far  as  company  was  concerned,   I  might 


have  been  a  thousand  miles  from  an  inhab- 
ited house.  In  spite  of  myself,  the 
thought  of  danger  persistently  assailed  my 
mind.  I  began  to  review  every  circum- 
stance of  my  journey,  twisting  the  trivial 
into  some  ominous  shape,  magnifying  the 
significance  of  everything  which  might 
justly  seem  suspicious,  studying  in  the 
light  of  my  new  apprehensions  every  ex- 
pression of  Bauer's  face  and  every  word 
that  had  fallen  from  his  lips.  1  could 
not  persuade  myself  into  security.  I  car- 
ried the  queen's  letter,  and — well,  I  would 
have  given  much  to  have  old  Sapt  or 
Rudolf  Rassendyll  by  my  side. 

Now,  when  a  man  suspects  danger,  let 
him  not  spend  his  time  in  asking  whether 
there  be  really  danger  or  in  upbraiding 
himself  for  timidity,  but  let  him  face  his 
cowardice,  and  act  as  though  the  danger 
were  real.  If  I  had  followed  that  rule 
and  kept  my  eyes  about  me,  scanning  the 
sides  of  the  road  and  the  ground  in  front 
of  my  feet,  instead  of  losing  myself  in  a 
maze  of  reflection,  I  might  have  had 
time  to  avoid  the  trap,  or  at  least  to  get 
my  hand  to  my  revolver  and  make  a  fight 
for  it;  or,  indeed,  in  the  last  resort,  to 
destroy  what  I  carried  before  harm  came 
to  it.  But  my  mind  was  preoccupied, 
and  the  whole  thing  seemed  to  happen  in 
a  minute.  At  the  very  moment  that  I 
had  declared  to  myself  the  vanity  of  my 
fears  and  determined  to  be  resolute  in 
banishing  them,  I  heard  voices — a  low, 
strained  whispering;  1  saw  two  or  three 
figures  in  the  shadow  of  the  poplars  by 
the  wayside.  An  instant  later,  a  dart  was 
made  at  me.  While  I  could  fly  I  would 
not  fight;  with  a  sudden  forward  plunge 
I  eluded  the  men  who  rushed  at  me,  and 
started  at  a  run  towards  the  lights  of  the 
town  and  the  shapes  of  the  houses,  now 
distant  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  Per- 
haps I  ran  twenty  yards,  perhaps  fifty;  I 
do  not  know.  I  heard  the  steps  behind 
me,  quick  as  my  own.  Then  I  fell  head- 
long on  the  road — tripped  up  !  I  under- 
stood. They  had  stretched  a  rope  across 
my  path;  as  I  fell  a  man  bounded  up 
from  either  side,  and  I  found  the  rope 
slack  under  my  body.  There  I  lay  on 
my  face;  a  man  knelt  on  me,  others  held 
either  hand;  my  face  was  pressed  into  the 
mud  of  the  road,  and  I  was  like  to  have 
been  stifled;  my  handbag  had  whizzed 
away  from  me.     Then  a  voice  said: 

"  Turn  him  over." 

I  knew  the  voice;  it  was  a  confirmation 
of  the  fears  which  I  had  lately  been  at 
such  pains  to  banish.  It  justified  the  fore- 
Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


ANTHONY  HOPE. 


*37 


cast  of  Anton  von  Strofzin,  and  ex- 
plained the  wager  of  the  Count  of  Luzau- 
Rischenheim — for  it  was  Rischenheim's 
voice. 

They  caught  hold  of  me  and  began  to 
turn  me  on  my  back.  Here  1  saw  a 
chance,  and  with  a  great  heave  of  my 
body  I  flung  them  from  me.  For  a  short 
instant  I  was  free;  my  impetuous  attack 
seemed  to  have  startled  the  enemy;  I 
gathered  myself  up  on  my  knees.  But 
my  advantage  was  not  to  last  long.  An- 
other man,  whom  I  had  not  seen,  sprang 
suddenly  on  me  like  a  bullet  from  a  cata- 
pult. His  fierce  onset  overthrew  me;  I 
was  stretched  on  the  ground  again,  on 
my  back  now,  and  my  throat  was  clutched 
viciously  in  strong  fingers.  At  the  same 
moment  my  arms  were  again  seized  and 
pinned.  The  face  of  the  man  on  my 
chest  bent  down  towards  mine,  and 
through  the  darkness  I  discerned  the  fea- 
tures of  Rupert  of  Hentzau.  He  was 
panting  with  his  sudden  exertion  and  the 
intense  force  with  which  he  held  me,  but 
he  was  smiling  also;  and  when  he  saw  by 
my  eyes  that  1  knew  him,  he  laughed 
softly  in  triumph. 

Then  came  Rischenheim's  voice  again, 

"  Where's  the  bag  he  carried  ?  It  may 
be  in  the  bag." 

"You  fool,  he'll  have  it  about  him," 
said  Rupert,  scornfully.  '*  Hold  him  fast 
while  I  search." 

On  either  side  my  hands  were  still  pinned 
fast.  Rupert's  left  hand  did  not  leave  my 
throat,  but  his  free  right  hand  began  to 
dart  about  me,  feeling,  probing,  and 
rummaging.  I  lay  quite  helpless  and  in 
the  bitterness  of  great  consternation. 
Rupert  found  my  revolver,  drew  it  out 
with  a  gibe,  and  handed  it  to  Rischenheim, 
who  was  now  standing  beside  him.  Then 
he  felt  the  box,  he  drew  it  out,  his  eyes 
sparkled.  He  set  his  knee  hard  on  my 
chest,  so  that  I  could  scarcely  breathe; 
then  he  ventured  to  loose  my  thoat,  and 
tore  the  box  open  eagerly. 

"Bring  a  light  here,"  he  cried.  An- 
other ruffian  came  with  a  dark-lantern, 
whose  glow  he  turned  on  the  box.  Ru- 
pert opened  it,  and  when  he  saw  what  was 
inside,  he  laughed  again,  and  stowed  it 
away  in  his  pocket. 

'•  Quick,  quick  !  "  urged  Rischenheim. 
"We've  got  what  we  wanted,  and  some- 
body may  come  at  any  moment." 

A  brief  hope  comforted  me.  The  loss 
of  the  box  was  a  calamity,  but  I  would 
pardon  fortune  if  only  the  letter  escaped 
capture.      Rupert    might  have    suspected 


that  I  carried  some  such  token  as  the  box, 
but  he  could  not  know  of  the  letter. 
Would  he  listen  to  Rischenheim  ?  No. 
The  Count  of  Hentzau  did  things  thor- 
oughly. 

"  We  may  as  well  overhaul  him  a  bit 
more,"  said  he,  and  resumed  his  search. 
My  hope  vanished,  for  now  he  was  bound 
to  come  upon  the  letter. 

Another  instant  brought  him  to  it.  He 
snatched  the  pocket-book,  and,  motioning 
impatiently  to  the  man  to  hold  the  lan- 
tern nearer,  he  began  to  examine  the  con- 
tents. I  remember  well  the  look  of  his 
face  as  the  fierce  white  light  threw  it  up 
against  the  darkness  in  its  clear  pallor  and 
high-bred  comeliness,  with  its  curling  lips 
and  scornful  eyes.  He  had  the  letter 
now,  and  a  gleam  of  joy  danced  in  his 
eyes  as  he  tore  it  open.  A  hasty  glance 
showed  him  what  his  prize  was;  then, 
coolly  and  deliberately  he  settled  himself 
to  readr  regarding  neither  Rischenheim's 
nervous  hurry  nor  my  desperate,  angry 
glance  that  glared  up  at  him.  He  read 
leisurely,  as  though  he  had  been  in  an 
arm-chair  in  his  own  house;  the  lips 
smiled  and  curled  as  he  read  the  last  words 
that  the  queen  had  written  to  her  lover. 
He  had  indeed  come  on  more  than  he 
thought. 

Rischenheim  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Quick,  Rupert,  quick,"  he  urged 
again,  in  a  voice  full  of  agitation. 

"  Let  me  alone,  man.  I  haven't  read 
anything  so  amusing  for  a  long  while," 
answered  Rupert.  Then  he  burst  into  a 
laugh,  crying,  "Look,  look!"  and  point- 
ing to  the  foot  of  the  last  page  of  the 
letter.  I  was  mad  with  anger  ;  my  fury 
gave  me  new  strength.  In  his  enjoyment 
of  what  he  read  Rupert  had  grown  care- 
less; his  knee  pressed  more  lightly  on  me, 
and  as  he  showed  Rischenheim  the  passage 
in  the  letter  that  caused  him  so  much 
amusement  he  turned  his  head  away  for 
an  instant.  My  chance  had  come.  With  a 
sudden  movement  I  displaced  him,  and 
with  a  desperate  wrench  I  freed  my  right 
hand.  Darting  it  out,  I  snatched  at  the 
letter.  Rupert,  alarmed  for  his  treasure, 
sprang  back  and  off  me.  I  also  sprang  up 
on  my  feet,  hurling  away  the  fellow  who 
had  gripped  my  other  hand.  For  a  mo- 
ment I  stood  facing  Rupert;  then  I  darted 
on  him.  He  was  too  quick  for  me;  he 
dodged  behind  the  man  with  the  lantern 
and  hurled  the  fellow  forward  against 
me.     The  lantern  fell  on  the  ground. 

"  Give  me  your  stick!  "  I  heard  Rupert 
say.     "  Where  is  it  ?     That's  right!  " 

Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


i3» 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


Then  came  Rischenheim's  voice  again, 
imploring  and  timid: 

44  Rupert,  you  promised  not  to  kill 
him." 

The  only  answer  was  a  short,  fierce 
laugh.  I  hurled  away  the  man  who  had 
been  thrust  into  my  arms  and  sprang  for- 
ward. I  saw  Rupert  of  Hentzau;  his  hand 
was  raised  above  his  head  and  held  a 
stout  club.  I  do  not  know  what  followed; 
there  came — all  in  a  confused  blur  of  in- 
stant sequence — an  oath  from  Rupert,  a 
rush  from  me,  a  scuffle,  as  though  some 
one  sought  to  hold  him  back;  then  he 
was  on  me;  I  felt  a  great  thud  on  my  fore- 
head, and  I  felt  nothing  more.  Again  I 
was  on  my  back,  with  a  terrible  pain  in  my 
head,  and  a  dull,  dreamy  consciousness  of 
a  knot  of  men  standing  .over  me,  talking 
eagerly  to  one  another. 

I  could  not  hear  what  they  were  saying; 
I  had  no  great  desire  to  hear.  I  fancied, 
somehow,  that  they  were  talking  about 
me  ;  they  looked  at  me  and  moved  their 
hands  towards  me  now  and  again.  I 
heard  Rupert's  laugh,  and  saw  his  club 
poised  over  me;  then  Rischenheim  caught 
him  by  the  wrist.  I  know  now  that  Ris- 
chenheim was  reminding  his  cousin  that 
he  had  promised  not  to  kill  me,  that  Ru- 
pert's oath  did  not  weigh  a  straw  in  the 
scales,  but  that  he  was  held  back  only  by 
a  doubt  whether  I  alive  or  my  dead  body 
would  be  more  inconvenient  to  dispose  of. 
Yet  then  I  did  not  understand,  but  lay 
there  listless.  And  presently  the  talking 
forms  seemed  to  cease  their  talking;  they 
grew  blurred  and  dim,  running  into  one 
another,  and  all  mingling  together  to  form 
one  great  shapeless  creature  that  seemed 
to  murmur  and  gibber  over  me,  some 
such  monster  as  a  man  sees  in  his  dreams. 
I  hated  to  see  it,  and  closed  my  eye;  its 
murmurings  and  gibberings  .haunted  my 
ears  for  awhile,  making  me  restless  and 
unhappy  ;  then  they  died  away.  Their 
going  made  me  happy;  I  sighed  in  content- 
ment; and  everything  became  as  though 
it  were  not. 

Yet  I  had  one  more  vision,  breaking 
suddenly  across  my  unconsciousness.  A 
bold,  rich  voice  rang  out,  44  By  God,  I 
will!  "  44  No,  no,"  cried  another.  Then, 
44  What's  that?"  There  was  a  rush  of 
feet,  the  cries  of  men  who  met  in  anger  or 
excitement,  the  crack  of  a  shot  and  of 
another  quickly  following,  oaths,  and 
scuffling.  Then  came  the  sound  of  feet 
flying.  I  could  not  make  it  out;  I  grew 
weary  with  the  puzzle  of  it.  Would  they 
not  be  quiet  ?     Quiet  was  what  I  wanted. 


At  last  they  grew  quiet;  I  closed  my  eyes 
again.  The  pain  vas  less  now;  they  were 
quiet;  I  could  sleep. 

When  a  man  looks  back  on  the  past,  re- 
viewing in  his  mind  the  chances  Fortune 
has  given  and  the  calls  she  has  made,  he 
always  torments  himself  by  thinking  that 
he  could  have  done  other  and  better  than 
in  fact  he  did.  Even  now  I  He  awake  at 
night  sometimes,  making  clever  plans  by 
which  I  could  have  thwarted  Rupert's 
schemes.  In  these  musings  I  am  very 
acute;  Anton  von  Strofzin's  idle  talk  fur- 
nishes me  with  many  a  clue,  and  I  draw 
inferences  sure  and  swift  as  a  detective  in 
the  story  books.  Bauer  is  my  tool,  I  am 
not  his.  I  lay  Rischenheim  by  the  heels, 
send  Rupert  howling  off  with  a  ball  in 
his  arm,  and  carry  my  precious  burden  in 
triumph  to  Mr.  Rassendyll.  By  the  time 
I  have  played  the  whole  game  I  am  in- 
deed proud  of  myself.  Yet  in  truth — in 
daylight  truth — I  fear  that,  unless  heaven 
sent  me  a  fresh  set  of  brains,  I  should  be 
caught  in  much  the  same  way  again. 
Though  not  by  that  fellow  Bauer,  I  swear! 
Well,  the/e  it  was.  They  had  made  a 
fool  of  me.  I  lay  on  the  road  with  a 
bloody  head,  and  Rupert  of  Hentzau  had 
the  queen's  letter. 


CHAPTER   III. 

AGAIN    TO    ZENDA. 

By  Heaven's  care,  or — since  a  man  may 
be  over  apt  to  arrogate  to  himself  a  great 
share  of  such  attention — by  good  luck,  I 
had  not  to  trust  for  my  life  to  the  slender 
thread  of  an  oath  sworn  by  Rupert  of 
Hentzau.  The  visions  of  my  dazed  brain 
were  transmutations  of  reality;  the  scuffle, 
the  rush,  the  retreat  were  not  all  dream. 

There  is  an  honest  fellow  now  living  in 
Wintenberg  comfortably  and  at  his  ease  by 
reason  that  his  wagon  chanced  to  come 
lumbering  along  with  three  or  four  stout 
lads  in  it  at  the  moment  when  Rupert  was 
meditating  a  second  and  murderous  blow. 
Seeing  the  group  of  us,  the  good  carrier 
and  his  lads  leapt  down  and  rushed  on  my 
assailants.  One  of  the  thieves,  they  said, 
was  for  fighting  it  out — I  could  guess  who 
that  was — and  called  on  the  rest  to  stand; 
but  they,  more  prudent,  laid  hands  on  him, 
and,  in  spite  of  his  oaths,  hustled  him  off 
along  the  road  towards  the  station.  Open 
country  lay  there  and  the  promise  of 
safety.  My  new  friends  set  off  in  pursuit; 
but  a  couple  of  revolver  shots,   heard  by 


Digitized  by 


Google 


ANTHONY  HOPE. 


139 


me,  but  not  understood,  awoke  their  cau- 
tion. Good  Samaritans,  but  not  men  of 
war,  they  returned  to  where  I  lay  sense- 
less on  the  ground,  congratulating  them- 
selves and  me  that  an  enemy  so  well 
armed  should  run  and  not  stand  his 
ground.  They  forced  a  drink  of  rough 
wine  down  my  throat,  and  in  a  minute  or 
two  I  opened  my  eyes.  They  were  for 
carrying  me  to  a  hospital;  I  would  have 
none  of  it.  As  soon  as  things  grew  clear 
to  me  again  and  I  knew  where  I  was,  I 
did  nothing  but  repeat  in  urgent  tones, 
"The  Golden  Lion,  The  Golden  Lion! 
Twenty  crowns  to  carry  me  to  the  Golden 
Lion.*' 

Perceiving  that  I  knew  my  own  business 
and  where  I  wished  to  go,  one  picked  up 
my  handbag  and  the  rest  hoisted  me  into 
their  wagon  and  set  out  for  the  hotel 
where  Rudolf  Rassendyll  was.  The  one 
thought  my  broken  head  held  was  to  get 
to  him  as  soon  as  might  be  and  tell  him 
how  1  had  been  fool  enough  to  let  myself 
be  robbed  of  the  queen's  letter. 

He  was  there.  He  stood  on  the  thresh- 
old of  the  inn,  waiting  for  me,  as  it 
seemed,  although  it  was  not  yet  the.  hour 
of  my  appointment.  As  they  drew  me  up 
to  the  door,  I  saw  his  tall,  straight  figure 
and  his  red  hair  by  the  light  of  the  hall 
lamps.  By  Heaven,  I  felt  as  a  lost  child 
must  on  sight  of  his  mother!  I  stretched 
out  my  hand  to  him,  over  the  side  of  the 
wagon,  murmuring,  "  I've  lost  it." 

He  started  at  the  words,  and  sprang  for- 
ward to  me.  Then  he  turned  quickly  to 
the  carrier. 

"  This  gentleman  is  my  friend,"  he  said. 
"  Give  him  to  me.  I'll  speak  to  you 
later."  He  waited  while  I  was  lifted  down 
from  the  wagon  into  the  arms  that  he  held 
ready  for  me,  and  himself  carried  me 
across  the  threshold.  I  was  quite  clear  in 
the  head  by  now  and  understood  all  that 
passed.  There  were  one  or  two  people  in 
the  hall,  but  Mr.  Rassendyll  took  no  heed 
of  them.  He  bore  me  quickly  upstairs 
and  into  his  sitting-room.  There  he  set 
me  down  in  an  arm-chair,  and  stood  op- 
posite to  me.  He  was  smiling,  but  anxi- 
ety was  awake  in  his  eyes. 

"I've  lost  it,"  I  said  again,  looking  up 
at  him  pitifully  enough. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  he,  nodding. 
"  Will  you  wait,  or  can  you  tell  me  ?  " 

• '  Yes,  but  give  me  some  brandy, "  said  I. 

Rudolf  gave  me  a  little  brandy  mixed 
in  a  great  deal  of  water,  and  then  I  made 
shift  to  tell  him.  Though  faint,  I  was  not 
confused,  and  I  gave  my  story  in  brief, 


hurried,  yet  sufficient  words.  He  made 
no  sign  till  I  mentioned  the  letter.  Then 
his  face  changed. 

"A  letter,  too?"  he  exclaimed,  in  a 
strange  mixture  of  increased  apprehension 
and  unlooked-for  joy. 

"  Yes,  a  letter,  too;  she  wrote  a  letter, 
and  I  carried  that  as  well  as  the  box. 
I've  lost  them  both,  Rudolf.  God  help 
me,  I've  lost  them  both!  Rupert  has  the 
letter  too!"  I  think  I  must  have  been 
weak  and  unmanned  from  the  blow  I  had 
received,  for  my  composure  broke  down 
here.  Rudolf  stepped  up  to  me  and  wrung 
me  by  the  hand.  I  mastered  myself  again 
and  looked  in  his  face  as  he  stood  in 
thought,  his  hand  caressing  the  strong 
curve  of  his  clean-shaven  chin.  Now  that 
I  was  with  him  again  it  seemed  as  though 
I  had  never  lost  him;  as  though  we  were 
still  together  in  Strelsau  or  at  Tarlenheim, 
planning  how  to  hoodwink  Black  Michael, 
send  Rupert  of  Hentzau  to  his  own  place, 
and  bring  the  king  back  to  his  throne.  For 
Mr.  Rassendyll,  as  he  stood  before  me 
now,  was  changed  in  nothing  since  our 
last  meeting,  nor  indeed  since  he  reigned 
in  Strelsau,  save  that  a  few  flecks  of  gray 
spotted  his  hair. 

My  battered  head  ached  most  consum- 
edly.  Mr.  Rassendyll  rang  the  bell 
twice,  and  a  short,  thick-set  man  of  mid- 
dle age  appeared;  he  wore  a  suit  of 
tweed,  and  had  the  air  of  smartness  and 
respectability  which  marks  English  ser- 
vants. 

x "  James,"  said  Rudolf,  "  this  gentleman 
has  hurt  his  head.     Look  after  it." 

James  went  out.  In  a  few  minutes  he 
was  back,  with  water,  basin,  towels,  and 
bandages.  Bending  over  me,,  he  began 
to  wash  and  tend  my  wound  very  deftly. 
Rudolf  was  walking  up  and  down. 

"Done  the  head,  James?"  he  asked, 
after  a  few  moments. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  servant,  gath- 
ering together  his  appliances. 

"  Telegraph  forms,  then." 

James  went  out,  and  was  back  with  the 
forms  in  an  instant. 

"  Be  ready  when  I  ring,"  said  Rudolf. 
And  he  added,  turning  to  me,  "  Any  eas- 
ier, Fritz  ? " 

"  I  can  listen  to  you  now,"  I  said. 

"  I  see  their  game,"  said  he.  "  One  or 
other  of  them,  Rupert  or  this  Rischen- 
heim,  will  try  to  get  to  the  king  with  the 
letter." 

I  sprang  to  my  feet. 

"They  mustn't,"  I  cried,  and  I  reeled 
back  into  my  chair,  with  a  feeling  as  if  a 

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RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


red-hot  poker  were  being  run  through  my 
head. 

44  Much  you  can  do  to  stop  'em,  old  fel- 
low," smiled  Rudolf,  pausing  to  press  my 
hand  as  he  went  by.  44  They  won't  trust 
the  post,  you  know.  One  will  go.  Now 
which?"  He  stood  facing  me  with  a 
thoughtful  frown  on  his  face. 

I  did  not  know,  but  I  thought  that 
Rischenheim  would  go.  It  was  a  great 
risk  for  Rupert  to  trust  himself  in  the 
kingdom,  and  he  knew  that  the  king 
would  not  easily  be  persuaded  to  receive 
him,  however  startling  might  be  the  busi- 
ness he  professed  as  his  errand.  On  the 
other  hand,  nothing  was  known  against 
Rischenheim,  while  his  rank  would  secure, 
and  indeed  entitle,  him  to  an  early  audi- 
ence. Therefore  I  concluded  that  Risch- 
enheim would  go  with  the  letter,  or,  if 
Rupert  would  not  let  that  out  of  his  pos- 
session, with  the  news  of  the  letter. 

44  Or  a  copy,"  suggested  Rassendyll. 
''Well,  Rischenheim  or  Rupert  will  be  on 
his  way  by  to-morrow  morning,  or  is  on 
his  way  to-night." 

Again  I  tried  to  rise,  for  I  was  on  fire  to 
prevent  the  fatal  consequences  of  my  stu- 
pidity. Rudolf  thrust  me  back  in  my  chair, 
saying,  4<  No,  no."  Then  he  sat  down  at 
the  table  and  took  up  the  telegraph  forms. 

44  You  and  Sapt  arranged  a  cipher,  I 
suppose  ?  "  he  asked. 

44  Yes.  You  write  the  message,  and  I'll 
put  it  into  the  cipher." 

44  This  is  what  I've  written:  i  Docu- 
ment lost.  Let  nobody  see  him  if  possi- 
ble. Wire  who  asks.'  I  don't  like  to 
make  it  plainer:  most  ciphers  can  be  read, 
you  know." 

44  Not  ours,"  said  I. 

44  Well,  but  will  that  do  ?  "  asked  Rudolf, 
with  an  unconvinced  smile. 

44  Yes,  I  think  he'll  understand  it." 
And  I  wrote  it  again  in  the  cipher;  it  was 
as  much  as  I  could  do  to  hold  the  pen. 

The  bell  was  rung  again,  and  James  ap- 
peared in  an  instant. 

44  Send  this,"  said  Rudolf. 

44  The  offices  will  be  shut,  sir." 

44  James,  James!  " 

44  Very  good,  sir;  but  it  may  take  an 
hour  to  get  one  open." 

44  I'll  give  you  half  an  hour.  Have  you 
money  ? " 

44  Yes,  sir." 

44  And  now,"  added  Rudolf,  turning  to 
me,  44  you'd  better  go  to  bed." 

I  do  not  recollect  what  I  answered,  for 
my  faintness  came  upon  me  again,  and 
I    remember    only    that     Rudolf    himself 


helped  me  into  his  own  bed.  I  slept,  but 
I  do  not  think  he  so  much  as  lay  down  on 
the  sofa;  chancing  to  awake  once  or  twice, 
I  heard  him  pacing  about.  But  towards 
morning  I  slept  heavily,  and  I  did  not 
know  what  he  was  doing  then.  At  eight 
o'clock  James  entered  and  roused  me. 
He  said  that  a  doctor  was  to  be  at  the 
hotel  in  half  an  hour,  but  that  Mr.  Ras- 
sendyll would  like  to  see  me  for  a  few 
minutes  if  I  felt  equal  to  business.  I 
begged  James  to  summon  his  master  at 
once.  Whether  I  were  equal  or  unequal, 
the  business  had  to  be  done. 

Rudolf  came,  calm  and  serene.  Danger 
and  the  need  for  exertion  acted  on  him 
like  a  draught  of  good  wine  on  a  seasoned 
drinker.  He  was  not  only  himself,  but 
more  than  himself:  his  excellences  en- 
hanced, the  indolence  that  marred  him  in 
quiet  hours  sloughed  off.  But  to-day  there 
was  something  more;  I  can  only  describe 
it  as  a  kind  of  radiance.  I  have  seen  it 
on  the  faces  of  young  sparks  when  the 
lady  they  love  comes  through  the  ball- 
room door,  and  I  have  seen  it  glow  more 
softly  in  a  girl's  eyes  when  some  fellow 
who  seemed  to  me  nothing  out  of  the 
ordinary  asked  her  for  a  dance.  That 
strange  gleam  was  on  Rudolf's  face  as  he 
stood  by  my  bedside.  I  dare  say  it  used 
to  be  on  mine  when  I  went  courting. 

44  Fritz,  old  friend,"  said  he,  44  there's 
an  answer  from  Sapt.  I'll  lay  the  tele- 
graph offices  were  stirred  at  Zenda  as  well 
as  James  stirred  them  here  in  Wintenberg! 
And  what  do  you  think  ?  Rischenheim 
asked  for  an  audience  before  he  left  Strel- 
sau." 

I  raised  myself  on  my  elbow  in  the 
bed. 

44  You  understand  ?  "  he  went  on.  44  He 
left  on  Monday.  To-day's  Wednesday. 
The  king  has  granted  him  an  audience  at 
four  on  Friday.     Well,  then " 

44  They  counted  on  success,"  I  cried, 
44  and  Rischenheim  takes  the  letter!  " 

44  A  copy,  if  I  know  Rupert  of  Hent- 
zau.  Yes,  it  was  well  laid.  I  like  the 
men  taking  all  the  cabs!  How  much 
ahead  had  they,  now  ?" 

I  did  not  know  that,  though  I  had  no 
more  doubt  than  he  that  Rupert's  hand 
was  in  the  business. 

44  Well,"  he  continued,  44 1  am  going  to 
wire  to  Sapt  to  put  Rischenheim  off  for 
twelve  hours  if  he  can;  failing  that,  to 
get  the  king  away  from  Zenda." 

44  But  Rischenheim  must  have  his  audi- 
ence sooner  or  later,"  I  objected. 

44  Sooner  or  later— t here's  the  world's 


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ANTHONY  HOPE. 


141 


difference  between  them!"  cried  Rudolf 
Rassendyll.  He  sat  down  on  the  bed  by 
me,  and  went  on  in  quick,  decisive  words: 
"  You  can't  move  for  a  day  or  two.  Send 
my  message  to  Sapt.  Tell  him  to  keep  you 
informed  of  what  happens.  As  soon  as 
you  can  travel,  go  to  Strelsau,  and  let 
Sapt  know  directly  you  arrive.  We  shall 
want  your  help." 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do?"  I 
cried,  staring  at  him. 

He  looked  at  me  for  a  moment,  and  his 
face  was  crossed  by  conflicting  feelings. 
I  saw  resolve  there,  obstinacy,  and  the 
scorn  of  danger;  fun,  too,  and  merriment; 
and,  lastly,  the  same  radiance  I  spoke  of. 
He  had  been  smoking  a  cigarette;  now 
he  threw  the  end  of  it  into  the  grate  and 
rose  from  the  bed  where  he  had  been  sit- 
ting. 

"  I'm  going  to  Zenda,"  said  he. 

"  To  Zenda!  "  I  cried,  amazed. 

"  Yes,"  said  Rudolf.  "  I'm  going  again 
to  Zenda,  Fritz,  old  fellow.  By  heaven,  I 
knew  it  would  come,  and  now  it  has  come!" 

"But  to  do  what?" 

"  I  shall  overtake  Rischenheim  or  be 
hot  on  his  heels.  If  he  gets  there  first, 
Sapt  will  keep  him  waiting  till  I  come; 
and  if  I  come,  he  shall  never  see  the 
king.  Yes,  if  I  come  in  time — "  He 
broke  into  a  sudden  laugh.  "What!" 
he  cried,  "have  I  lost  my  likeness? 
Can't  I  still  play  the  king?  Yes,  if  I 
come  in  time,  Rischenheim  shall  have  his 
audience  of  the  king  of  Zenda,  and  the 
king  will  be  very  gracious  to  him,  and  the 
king  will  take  his  copy  of  the  letter  from 
him!  Oh,  Rischenheim  shall  have  an  au- 
dience of  King  Rudolf  in  the  castle  of 
Zenda,  never  fear!  " 

He  stood,  looking  to  see  how  I  received 
his  plan;  but  amazed  at  the  boldness  of  it, 
I  could  only  lie  back  and  gasp. 

Rudolf's  excitement  left  him  as  suddenly 
as  it  had  come;  he  was  again  the  cool, 
shrewd,  nonchalant  Englishman,  as,  light- 
ing another  cigarette,  he  proceeded: 

"You  see,  there  are  two  of  them,  Ru- 
pert and  Rischenheim.  Now  you  can't 
move  for  a  day  or  two,  that's  certain. 
But  there  must  be  two  of  us  there  in  Ruri- 
tania.  Rischenheim  is  to  try  first;  but  if 
he  fails,  Rupert  will  risk  everything  and 
break  through  to  the  king's  presence. 
Give  him  five  muiutes  with  the  king,  and 
the  mischief's  done!  Very  well,  then; 
Sapt  must  keep  Rupert  at  bay  while  I 
tackle  Rischenheim.  As  soon  as  you  can 
move,  go  to  Strelsau,  and  let  Sapt  know 
where  you  are." 


"But  if  you're  seen,  if  you're  found 
out?" 

"Better  I  than  the  queen's  letter," 
said  he.  Then  he  laid  his  hand  on  my  arm 
and  said,  quite  quietly,  "  If  the  letter  gets 
to  the  king,  I  and  I  only  can  do  what 
must  be  done." 

I  did  not  know  what  he  meant;  perhaps 
it  was  that  he  would  carry  off  the  queen 
sooner  than  leave  her  alone  after  her  letter 
was  known;  but  there  was  another  possi- 
ble meaning  that  I,  a  loyal  subject,  dared 
not  inquire  into.  Yet  I  made  no  answer, 
for  I  was  above  all  and  first  of  all  the 
queen's  servant.  Still  I  cannot  believe 
that  he  meant  harm  to  the  king. 

"Come,  Fritz,"  he  cried,  "don't  look 
so  glum.  This  is  not  so  great  an  affair  as 
the  other,  and  we  brought  that  through 
safe."  I  suppose  I  still  looked  doubtful, 
for  he  added,  with  a  sort  of  impatience, 
"Well,  I'm  going,  anyhow.  Heavens, 
man,  am  I  to  sit  here  while  that  letter  is 
carried  to  the  king  ?  " 

I  understood  his  feeling,  and  knew  that 
he  held  life  a  light  thing  compared  with 
the  recovery  of  Queen  Flavia's  letter. 
I  ceased  to  urge  him.  When  I  assented 
to  his  wishes,  every  shadow  vanished  from 
his  face,  and  we  began  to  discuss  the  de- 
tails of  the  plan  with  business-like  brevity. 

"I  shall  leave  James  with  you,"  said 
Rudolf.  "  He'll  be  very  useful,  and  you 
can  rely  on  him  absolutely.  Any  mes- 
sage that  you  dare  trust  to  no  other  con- 
veyance, give  to  him;  he'll  carry  it.  He 
can  shoot,  too."  He  rose  as  he  spoke. 
"I'll  look  in  before  I  start,"  he  added, 
"and  hear  what  the  doctor  says  about 
you." 

I  lay  there,  thinking,  as  men  sick  and 
weary  in  body  will,  of  the  dangers  and  the 
desperate  nature  of  the  risk,  rather  than 
of  the  hope  which  its  boldness  would  have 
inspired  in  a  healthy,  active  brain.  I  dis- 
trusted the  rapid  inference  that  Rudolf 
had  drawn  from  Sapt's  telegram,  telling 
myself  that  it  was  based  on  too  slender  a 
foundation.  Well,  there  I  was  wrong, 
and  I  am  glad  now  to  pay  that  tribute  to 
his  discernment.  The  first  steps  of  Ru- 
pert's scheme  were  laid  as  Rudolf  had  con- 
jectured: Rischenheim  had  started,  even 
while  I  lay  there,  for  Zenda,  carrying  on 
his  person  a  copy  of  the  queen's  farewell 
letter  and  armed  for  his  enterprise  by  his 
right  of  audience  with  the  king.  So  far 
we  were  right,  then;  for  the  rest  we  were 
in  darkness,  not  knowing  or  being  able 
even  to  guess  where  Rupert  would  choose 
to  await  the  result  of   the   first  cast,  or 

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142 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


what  precautions  he  had  taken  against  the 
failure  of  his  envoy.  But  although  in 
total  obscurity  as  to  his  future  plans,  I 
traced  his  past  actions,  and  subsequent 
knowledge  has  shown  that  I  was  right. 
Bauer  was  his  tool;  a  couple  of  florins  a 
piece  had  hired  the  fellows  who,  conceiv- 
ing that  they  were  playing  a  part  in  some 
practical  joke,  had  taken  all  the  cabs  at 
the  station.  Rupert  had  reckoned  that  I 
should  linger  looking  for  my  servant  and 
luggage,  and  thus  miss  my  last  chance  of 
a  vehicle.  If,  however,  I  had  obtained 
one,  the  attack  would  still  have  been 
made,  although,  of  course,  under  much 
greater  difficulties.  Finally — and  of  this 
at  the  time  I  knew  nothing — had  I  evaded 
them  and  got  safe  to  port  with  my  cargo, 
the  plot  would  have  been  changed.  Ru- 
pert's attention  would  then  have  been 
diverted  from  me  to  Rudolf;  counting  on 
love  overcoming  prudence,  he  reckoned 
that  Mr.  Rassendyll  would  not  at  once 
destroy  what  the  queen  sent,  and  had 
arranged  to  track  his  steps  from  Winten- 
berg  till  an  opportunity  offered  of  rob- 
bing him  of  his  treasure.  The  scheme, 
as  I  know  it,  was  full  of  audacious  cun- 
ning, and  required  large  resources — the 
former  Rupert  himself  supplied;  for  the 
second  he  was  indebted  to  his  cousin  and 
slave,  the  Count  of  Luzau-Rischenheim. 

My  meditations  were  interrupted  by  the 
arrival  of  the  doctor.  He  hummed  and 
ha'd  over  me,  but  to  my  surprise  asked 
me  no  questions  as  to  the  cause  of  my 
misfortune,  and  did  not,  as  I  had  feared, 
suggest  that  his  efforts  should  be  seconded 
by  those  of  the  police.  On  the  contrary, 
he  appeared,  from  an  unobtrusive  hint  or 
two,  to  be  anxious  that  I  should  know  that 
his  discretion  could  be  trusted. 

"  You  must  not  think  of  moving  for  a 
couple  of  days,"  he  said;  "but  then  I 
think  we  can  get  you  away  without  danger 
and  quite  quietly." 

I  thanked  him;  he  promised  to  look  in 
again;  I  murmured  something  about  his 
fee. 

"Oh,  thank  you,  that  is  all  settled," 
he  said.  "  Your  friend  Herr  Schmidt  has 
seen  to  it,  and,  my  dear  sir,  most  liber- 
ally." 

He  was  hardly  gone  when  '  my  friend 
Herr  Schmidt ' — alias  Rudolf  Rassendyll 
— was  back.  He  laughed  a  little  when  I 
told  him  how  discreet  the  doctor  had  been. 

"You  see,"  he  explained,  "  he  thinks 
you've  been  very  indiscreet.  I  was 
obliged,  my  dear  Fritz,  to  take  some  lib- 
erties with  your  character.     However,  it's 


odds  against  the  matter  coming  to  your 
wife's  ears." 

"  But  couldn't  we  have  laid  the  others 
by  the  heels? " 

"  With  the  letter  on  Rupert  ?  My  dear 
fellow,  you're  very  ill." 

I  laughed  at  myself,  and  forgave  Rudolf 
his  trick,  though  I  think  that  he  might 
have  made  my  fictitious  inamorata  some- 
thing more  than  a  baker's  wife.  It  would 
have  cost  no  more  to  make  her  a  countess, 
and  the  doctor  would  have  looked  with 
more  respect  on  me.  However,  Rudolf 
had  said  that  the  baker  broke  my  head 
with  his  rolling-pin,  and  thus  the  story 
rests  in  the  doctor's  mind  to  this  day. 

"Well,  I'm  off,"  said  Rudolf. 

"But  where?" 

"  Why,  to  that  same  little  station  where 
two  good  friends  parted  from  me  once 
before.     Fritz,  where's  Rupert  gone  ?  " 

"  I  wish  we  knew." 

"  I  lay  he  won't  be  far  off." 

"  Are  you  armed  ?  " 

"  The  six-shooter.  Well,  yes,  since  you 
press  me,  a  knife,  too;  but  only  if  he  uses 
one.  You'll  let  Sapt  know  when  you 
come  ?  " 

"Yes;  and  I  come  the  moment  I  can 
stand?" 

"As  if  you  need  tell  me  that,  old  fel- 
low!" 

"  Where  do  you  go  from  the  station  ?  " 

"To  Zenda,  through  the  forest,"  he 
answered.  "  I  shall  reach  the  station 
about  nine  to-morrow  night,  Thursday. 
Unless  Rischenheim  has  got  the  audience 
sooner  than  was  arranged,  I  shall  be  in 
time." 

"  How  will  you  get  hold  of  Sapt  ?  " 

"  We  must  leave  something  to  the  min- 
ute." 

"  God  bless  you,  Rudolf." 

"  The  king  shan't  have  the  letter,  Fritz. " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  as  we 
shook  hands.  Then  that  soft  yet  bright 
look  came  in  his  eyes  again.  He  looked 
down  at  me,  and  caught  me  regarding  him 
with  a  smile  that  I  know  was  not  unkind. 

"I  never  thought  I  should  see  her 
again,"  he  said.  "I  think  I  shall  now, 
Fritz.  To  have  a  turn  with  that  boy  and 
to  see  her  again — it's  worth  something/ f 

"  How  will  you  see  her  ? " 

Rudolf  laughed,  and  I  laughed  too. 
He  caught  my  hand  again.  I  think  that 
he  was  anxious  to  infect  me  with  his  gai- 
ety and  confidence.  But  I  could  not 
answer  to  the  appeal  of  his  eyes.  There 
was  a  motive  in  him  that  found  no  place 
in  me — a  great  longing,   the  prospect   or 


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143 


hope  of  whose  sudden  fulfilment  dwarfed 
danger  and  banished  despair.  He  saw 
that  I  detected  its  presence  in  him  and 
perceived  how  it  filled  his  mind. 

"  But  the  letter  comes  before  all,"  said 
he.  "I  expected  to  die  without  seeing 
her;  I  will  die  without  seeing  her,  if  I 
must,  to  save  the  letter." 

"  I  know  you  will,"  said  I. 

He  pressed  my  hand  again.  As  he 
turned  away,  James  came  with  his  noise- 
less, quick  step  into  the  room. 

"  The  carriage  is  at  the  door,  sir,"  said 
he. 


"  Look  after  the  count,  James,"  said 
Rudolf.  "  Don't  leave  him  till  he  sends 
you  away." 

"  Very  well,  sir." 

I  raised  myself  in  bed. 

"  Here's  luck,"  I  cried,  catching  up  the 
lemonade  James  had  brought  me,  and  tak- 
ing a  gulp  of  it. 

"Please  God,"  said  Rudolf,  with  a 
shrug. 

And  he  was  gone  to  his  work  and  his  re- 
ward— to  save  the  queen's  letter  and  to 
see  the  queen's  face.  Thus  he  went  a 
second  time  to  Zenda. 


{To  b<  continued.} 


the  Alf,  a  league  or 
I  so    from    the   Mo- 

\  selle,  on  a  summer 

v  evening.  He  was  the  most  powerful 
man  in  all  the  Alf-thal,  and  few 
could  lift  the  iron  sledge-hammer  which 
he  wielded  as  if  it  were  a  toy.  Arras 
had  twelve  sons,  scarcely  less  stalwart 
than  himself,  some  of  whom  helped  him 
in  his  occupation  of  blacksmith  and  ar- 
morer, while  the  others  tilled  the  ground 
near  by,  earning  from  the  rich  soil  of  the 
valley  what  sustenance  the  whole  family 
needed. 

The  blacksmith  heard,  coming  up  the 
valley  of  the  Alf,  the  hoof-beats  of  a 
horse;  and  his  quick,  experienced  ear  told 
him,  distant  though  the  animal  yet  was, 
that  one  of  its  shoes  was  loose.  As  the 
hurrying  rider  came  within  call,  the  black- 
smith shouted  to  him  in  stentorian  tones: 


joined  the  blacksmith. 

"  Better  lose  the  horse  than  an  empire," 
replied  the  rider,  hurrying  on. 

"Now  what  does  that  mean?"  said 
the  blacksmith-  to  himself,  as  he  watched 
the  disappearing  rider,  while  the  click, 
click  of  the  loosened  shoe  became  fainter 
and  fainter  in  the  distance. 

If  the  blacksmith  could  have  followed 
the  rider  into  Castle  Bertrich,  a  short  dis- 
tance farther  up  the  valley,  he  would 
speedily  have  learned  the  meaning  of  the 
hasty  phrase  the  horseman  had  flung  be- 
hind him  as  he  rode  past. 

Ascending  the  winding  road  which  led 
to  the  gates  of  the  castle  as  hurriedly  as 
the  jaded  condition  of  his  beast  would 
permit,  the  horseman  paused,  unloosed 
the  horn  from  his  belt,  and  blew  a  blast 
that  echoed  from  the  wooded  hills  all 
around.       Presently   an    officer   appeared 

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THE  ARCHBISHOP'S  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


above  the  gateway,  accompanied  by  two  or 
three  armed  men,  and  demanded  who  the 
stranger  was  and  why  he  asked  admis- 
sion. The  horseman,  amazed  at  the  offi- 
cer's ignorance  of  heraldry,  which  caused 
him  to  inquire  as  to  his  quality,  answered 
with  some  haughtiness: 

44 1,  messenger  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Treves,  demand  instant  audience  with 
Count  Bertrich." 

The  officer,  without  reply,  disappeared 
from  the  castle  walls,  and  presently  the 
great  leaves  of  the  gate  were  thrown  open, 
whereupon  the  horseman  rode  his  tired 
animal  into  the  courtyard  and  flung  him- 
self off.  "  My  horse's  shoe  is  loose," 
he  said  to  the  captain.  "I  ask  you  to 
have  your  armorer  immediately  attend  to 
it." 

44  In  truth,"  replied  the  officer,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders,  "  there  is  more  drink- 
ing than  fighting  in  Castle  Bertrich;  con- 
sequently, we  do  not  possess  an  armorer. 
If  you  want  blacksmithing  done  you  must 
betake  yourself  to  armorer  Arras  in  the 
valley,  who  will  put  either  horse  or  armor 
right  for  you." 

With  this  the  messenger  was  forced  to 
be  content,  and  begging  the  attendant  who 
took  charge  of  his  horse  to  remember  that 
it  had  traveled  far,  and  had  still,  when 
rested,  a  long  journey  before  it,  he  fol- 
lowed the  captain  into  the  great  rittersaal 
of  the  castle,  where,  on  entering,  after 
having  been  announced,  he  found  the 
Count  of  Bertrich  sitting  at  the  head  of 
a  long  table,  a  gigantic  wine-flagon  in 
hand,  which  he  was  industriously  empty- 
ing. 

Extending  down  each  side  of  the  table 
were  numerous  nobles,  knights,  and  war- 
riors, who,  to  judge  by  the  hasty  glance 
bestowed  upon  them  by  the  archbishop's 
messenger,  seemed  to  be  following  ener- 
getically the  example  set  them  by  their 
lord  at  the  head. 

Count  Bertrich's  hair  was  unkempt,  his 
face  a  purplish  red,  his  eyes  bloodshot,  and 
his  corselet,  open  at  the  throat,  showed 
the  great  bull-neck  of  the  man,  on  whose 
gigantic  frame  constant  dissipation  seemed 
to  have  only  temporary  effect. 

"Well!"  roared  the  nobleman,  in  a 
voice  that  made  the  rafters  ring.  "  What 
would  you  with  Count  Bertrich  ?  " 

"  I  bear  an  urgent  despatch  to  you 
from  my  lord  the  Archbishop  of  Treves," 
replied  the  messenger. 

41  Then  down  on  your  knees  and  present 
it,"  cried  the  count,  beating  the  table 
with  his  flagon. 


44 1  am  envoy  of  his  lordship  of  Treves," 
said  the  messenger  sternly. 

44  You  told  us  that  before,"  cried  the 
count;  44  and  now  you  stand  in  the  hall  of 
Bertrich.    Kneel,  therefore,  to  its  master." 

44 1  represent  the  archbishop,"  reiter- 
ated the  messenger,  "and  I  kneel  to  none 
but  God  and  the  Emperor." 

Count  Bertrich  rose  somewhat  uncer- 
tainly to  his  feet,  his  whole  frame  trem- 
bling with  anger,  volleying  forth  oaths 
upon  threats.  The  tall  nobleman  at  his 
right  hand  also  rose,  as  did  many  of  the 
others  who  sat  at  the  table.  The  tall 
nobleman,  placing  hand  on  the  arm  of  his 
furious  host,  said  warningly: 

44  My  lord  count,  the  man  is  right.  It 
is  against  the  feudal  law  that  he  should 
kneel  or  that  you  should  demand  it.  The 
Archbishop  of  Treves  is  your  overlord,  as 
well  as  ours,  and  it  is  not  fitting  that  his 
messenger  should  bend  the  knee  before  us." 

"That  is  truth;  the  feudal  law,"  mut- 
tered others  down  each  side  of  the  table. 

The  enraged  count  glared  upon  them 
one  after  another,  partially  subdued  by 
their  breaking  away  from  him. 

The  envoy  stood  calm  and  collected, 
awaiting  the  outcome  of  the  tumult.  The 
count,  cursing  the  absent  archbishop  and 
his  present  guests  with  equal  impartiality, 
sat  slowly  down  again,  and,  flinging  his 
empty  flagon  at  an  attendant,  demanded 
that  it  should  be  refilled.  The  others  now 
resumed  their  seats,  and  the  count  cried 
out,  but  with  less  of  truculenceinhistone: 

44  What  message  sent  the  archbishop  to 
Castle  Bertrich?" 

"  His  lordship  the  Archbishop  of  Treves 
requires  me  to  inform  Count  Bertrich  and 
the  assembled  nobles  that  the  Hungarians 
have  forced  passage  across  the  Rhine  and 
are  now  about  to  make  their  way  through 
the  defiles  of  the  Eifel  into  this  valley, 
intending  then  to  march  upon  Treves,  lay 
that  ancient  city  in  ruin,  and  carry  havoc 
over  the  surrounding  country.  His  lord- 
ship commands  you,  Count  Bertrich,  to 
rally  your  men  about  you  and  hold  the 
infidels  in  check  in  the  defiles  of  the  Eifel 
until  the  archbishop,  at  the  head  of  his 
army,  comes  to  your  relief  from  Treves." 

There  was  deep  silence  in  the  large  hall 
after  this  startling  announcement;  then 
the  count  replied: 

44  Tell  the  Archbishop  of  Treves  that,  if 
the  lords  of  the  Rhine  cannot  keep  back 
the  Hungarians,  it  is  hardly  likely  that 
we,  less  powerful,  near  the  Moselle  can 
do  it." 

44  His  lordship  urges  instant  compliance 


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with  his  request, 
and  I  am  to  say 
that  you  refuse 
at  your  peril.  A 
few  hundred  men 
can  hold  the 
Hungarians  in 
check  while  they 
are  passing 
through  the  nar- 
row ravines  of 
the  Eifel,  while 
as  many  thou- 
sands might  not 
be  as  successful 
against  them 
should  they  once 
reach  the  open 
valleys  of  the  Alf 
and  the  Moselle. 
H  is  lordship 
would  also  have 
you  further  know 
that  this  cam- 
paign is  as  much 

in  your  own  interest  as  in  his;  for  the  Hun- 
garians, in  their  devastating  march,  spare 
neither  the  high  nor  the  low." 

"Tell  his  lordship/'  hiccoughed  the 
count,  "  that  I  sit  safely  in  my  castle  of 
Bertrich,  and  I  defy  all  the  Hungarians 
that  ever  were  let  loose  to  disturb  me 
therein.  If  the  archbishop  keep  Treves 
as  tightly  as  I  shall  hold  Castle  Bertrich, 
there  is  little  to  fear  from  the  invaders/ ' 

4 'Am  I  to  return  to  Treves,  then,  with 
your  refusal  ?  "  asked  the  envoy. 

"  You  may  return  to  Treves  as  best 
pleases  you,  so  that  you  rid  us  of  your 
presence  here,  where  you  mar  good  com- 
pany." 

The  envoy,  without  further  speech, 
bowed  to  Count  Bertrich,  and  also  to  the 
assembled  nobles,  then  passed  silently  out 
of  the  hall,  returning  to  the  courtyard  of 
the  castle,  where  he  demanded  that  his 
horse  be  brought  to  him. 

"The  animal  has  had  but  scant  time 
for  feeding  and  rest,"  said  the  captain. 

"  'Twill  be  sufficient  to  carry  us  to  the 
blacksmith's  hut,"  answered  the  envoy,  as 
he  put  foot  in  stirrup. 

The  blacksmith,  still  standing  at  the 
door  of  his  smithy,  heard  again,  coming 
from  the  castle,  the  click  of  the  broken 
shoe;  but  this  time  the  rider  drew  up  be- 
fore him,  and  said: 

"  The  offer  of  help  which  you  tendered 
me  on  a  previous  occasion  I  shall  now  be 
glad  to  accept.  Do  your  work  well, 
smith,  and  know  that  in  the  performing 


BBTTKR  LOSE  THE  HORSE  THAN  AN  EMPIRE." 


of  it  you  are  obliging  the  Archbishop  of 
Treves." 

The  armorer  raised  his  cap  at  the  men- 
tion of  the  august  name,  and  invoked  a 
blessing  upon  the  head  of  that  renowned 
and  warlike  prelate. 

"You  said  something,"  spoke  up  the 
smith,  "  of  loss  of  empire,  as  you  rode  by. 
I  trust  there  is  no  disquieting  news  from 
Treves." 

"  Disquieting  enough,"  replied  the 
messenger.  "  The  Hungarians  have 
crossed  the  Rhine,  and  are  now  making 
their  way  towards  the  defiles  of  the  Eifel. 
There  a  hundred  men  could  hold  the  in- 
fidels in  check;  but  you  breed  a  scurvy 
set  of  nobles  in  the  Alf-thal,  for  Count 
Bertrich  disdains  the  command  of  his  over- 
lord to  rise  at  the  head  of  his  men  and 
stay  the  progress  of  the  invader  until  the 
archbishop  can  come  to  his  assistance." 

"  Now  out  upon  the  drunken  count  for 
a  base  coward!  "  cried  the  armorer,  in  an- 
ger. "  May  his  castle  be  sacked  and  him- 
self hanged  on  the  highest  turret  for  re- 
fusing aid  to  his  overlord  in  trme  of 
need.  I  and  my  twelve  sons  know  every 
defile,  ravine,  pass,  rock,  and  cave  in  the 
Eifel.  Would  the  archbishop,  think  you, 
accept  the  aid  of  such  underlings  as  we, 
whose  only  commendation  is  that  our 
hearts  are  as  stout  as  our  sinews  ?  " 

"  What  better  warranty  could  the  arch? 
bishop  ask  than  that  ?  "  replied  the  envoy. 
"  If  you  can  hold  back  the  Hungarians  for 
four  or  five  days,  then  I  doubt  not  that 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


14& 


THE  ARCHBISHOP'S  CHRISTMAS  GIFT. 


whatever  you  ask  of  the  archbishop  will 
be  speedily  granted." 

44  We  shall  ask  nothing,"  cried  the 
blacksmith,  "but  his  blessing,  and  be 
deeply  honored  in  receiving  it." 

Whereupon  the  blacksmith,  seizing  his 
hammer,    went  to   the  door  of   his   hut, 
where  there  hung  outside  what  seemed  to 
be  part  of  a  suit 
of  armor,  which 
served,     at     the 
same   time,  as  a 
sign  of  his  pro- 
fession and  as  a 
tocsin.  He  smote 
the  hanging  iron 
with    his    sledge 
until  the  clangor- 
ous     reverbera- 
t  i  o  n     echoed 
through    all    the 
valley,  and  pres-   I 
ently  there  came 
hurrying  to  him 

eight        OI        hlS  COUNT   BBRTRICH. 

stalwart    sons, 

who  had  been  occupied  in  tilling  the  fields. 

"Scatter  ye,"  cried  the  blacksmith, 
"over  all  the  land  where  my  name  is 
known.  Rouse  the  people,  and  tell  them 
the  Hungarians  are  upon  us.  Urge  all 
to  collect  here  at  the  smithy  before  mid- 
night, with  whatever  of  arms  or  weapons 
they  may  be  possessed.  Those  who  have  no 
arms  let  them  bring  poles  for  pike-handles, 
and  your  brothers  and  myself  will  busily 
make  pike-heads  of  iron  until  they  come. 
Tell  them  they  are  called  to  action  by  a 
lord  from  the  Archbishop  of  Treves  him- 
self, and  that  I  shall  lead  them.  Tell  them 
they  fight  for  their  homes,  their  wives,  and 
their  children.     And  now  away!  " 

The  eight  young  men  at  once  dispersed 
in  several  directions.  The  smith  himself 
shod  the  envoy's  horse,  and  begged  him  to 
inform  the  archbishop  that  they  would  de- 
fend the  passes  of  the  Eifel  while  a  man 
of  them  remained  alive. 

Long  before  midnight  the  peasants  came 
straggling  to  the  smithy  from  all  quarters, 
and  by  daylight  the  blacksmith  had  led 
them  over  the  volcanic  hills  to  the  lip  of 
the  tremendous  pass  through  which  the 
Hungarians  must  come.  The  sides  of 
this  chasm  were  precipitous  and  hundreds 
of  feet  in  height.  Even  the  peasants 
themselves,  knowing  the  rocks  as  they 
did,  could  not  have  climbed  from  the  bot- 
tom of  the  pass  below  to  the  height  they 
now  occupied.  They  had,  therefore,  little 
fear  that  the  numerous  Hungarians  could 


scale  the  walls  and  decimate  their  scanty 
band. 

When  the  Hungarian  army  appeared,  the 
blacksmith  and  his  men  rolled  great  stones 
and  rocks  down  upon  them,  practically 
annihilating  the  advance-guard  and  throw- 
ing the  whole  army  into  confusion.  The 
week's  struggle  that  followed  forms  one  of 
the  most  exciting  episodes  in  German  his- 
tory. Again  and  again  the  Hungarians  at- 
tempted the  pass,  but  nothing  could  with- 
stand the  avalanche  of  stones  and  rocks 
with  which  they  were  overwhelmed.  Nev.- 
ertheless  the  devoted  little  band  did  not 
have  things  all  their  own  way.  They  were 
so  few,  and  they  had  to  keep  such  close 
watch  night  and  day,  that  before  the  week 
was  out  many  turned  longing  eyes  in 
the  direction  from  which  the  archbishop's 
army  was  expected  to  come.  It  was  not 
until  the  seventh  day  that  help  arrived; 
and  then  the  archbishop's  forces  speedily 
put  to  flight  the  now  demoralized  Hunga- 
rians, and  chased  them  once  more  across 
the  Rhine. 

"There  is  nothing  now  left  for  us  to 
do,"  said  the  tired  blacksmith  to  his  little 
following;  "  so  I  will  get  back  to  my  forge, 
and  you  to  your  farms."  And  this,  with- 
out more  ado,  they  did;  the  cheering  and 
inspiring  ring  of  iion  on  anvil  awakening 
the  echoes  of  the  Alf-thal  once  again. 

The  blacksmith  and  his  twelve  sons 
were  at  their  noon-day  meal  when  an  im- 
posing cavalcade  rode  up  to  the  smithy, 
at  the  head  of  which  procession  was  the 
archbishop,  and  the  blacksmith  and  his 
dozen  sons  were  covered  with  confusion  to 
think  they  had  such  a  distinguished  visitor, 
without  the  means  of  receiving  him  in  ac- 
cordance with  his  station.  But  the  arch- 
bishop said : 

"  Blacksmith  Arras,  you  and  your  sons 
would  not  wait  for  me  to  thank  you,  so  I 
am  now  come  to  you,  that  in  the  presence 
of  all  these  followers  of  mine  I  may  pay 
fitting  tribute  to  your  loyalty  and  your 
great  bravery." 

Then  indeed  did  the  modest  blacksmith 
consider  he  had  received  more  than  am- 
ple compensation  for  what  he  had  done, 
which,  after  all,  as  he  told  his  neighbors, 
was  merely  his  duty;  so  why  should  a  man 
be  thanked  for  it  ? 

"  Blacksmith,"  said  the  archbishop,  as 
he  mounted  his  horse  to  return  to  Treves, 
"  thanks  cost  little  and  are  easily  be- 
stowed. I  hope,  however,  to  have  a 
Christmas  present  for  you  which  will  show 
the  whole  country  round  how  much  I 
esteem  true  valor." 


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At  the  mouth  of  the  Alf-thal,  somewhat 
back  from  the  small  village  of  Alf  and 
overlooking  the  Moselle,  stands  a  conical 
hill  that  completely  commands  the  valley. 
The  Archbishop  of  Treves,  having  had 
such  a  lesson  regarding  the  dangers  of  an 
incursion  through  the  volcanic  region  of 
the  Eifel,  put  some  hundreds  of  men  at 
work  on  this  conical  hill,  and  erected  on 
the  top  a  strong  castle,  which  was  the 
wonder  of  the  country.  The  year  was 
nearing  its  end  when  this  great  stronghold 
was  completed,  and  it  began  to  be  known 
throughout  the  land  that  the  archbishop 
intended  to  hold  high  Christmas  revel 
there,  and  had  invited  to  the  castle  all  the 
nobles  in  the  country,  while  the  chief 
guest  was  no  other  than  the  emperor  him- 


•tme  blacksmith  had  led  them  over  the  volcanic  hills.' 


though  the  peasants  were  jubilant  that  one 
of  their  caste  should  thus  be  singled  out 
to  receive  the  favor  of  the  famous  arch- 
bishop, and  meet  not  only  great  nobles  but 
the  emperor  himself,  still  it  was  gossiped 
that  the  barons  grumbled  at  this  distinc- 
tion being  placed  upon  a  serf  like  black- 
smith Arras,  and  none  were  so  loud  in 
their  complaints  as  the  Count  Bertrich, 
who  had  remained  drinking  in  the  castle 
while  the  blacksmith  fought  for  the  land. 
Nevertheless  all  the  nobility  accepted  the 
invitation  of  the  powerful  Archbishop  of 
Treves,  and  assembled  in  the  great  room 
of  the  new  castle,  each  equipped  in  all  the 
gorgeousness  of  full  armor. 

It  had  been  rumored  among  the  nobles 
that  the  emperor  would  not  permit  the 
archbishop  to  sully  the 
caste  of  knighthood 
by  asking  the  barons 
to  recognize  or  hold 
converse  with  one  in 
humble  station  of  life. 
Indeed,  had  it  been 
otherwise,  Count  Bert- 
rich,  with  the  bar- 
ons to  back  him,  was 
resolved  to  speak  out 
boldly  to  the  emperor, 
upholding  the  privi- 
leges of  his  class,  and 
protesting  against  in- 
sult to  it  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  black- 
smith and  his  twelve 
sons. 

When  all  assembled 
in  the  great  hall  they 
found  at  the  center  of 
the  long  side-wall  a 
magnificent  throne 
erected,  with  a  dais  in 
front  of  it;  and  on 
this  throne  sat  the 
emperor  in  state,  while 
at  his  right  hand  stood 


self.  Then  the  neighbors  of  the  black- 
smith learned  that  a  Christmas  gift  was 
about  to  be  bestowed  upon  that  stalwart 
man.  He  and  his  twelve  sons  received 
notification  to  attend  at  the  castle  and 
enjoy  the  whole  week's  festivity.  He  was 
commanded  to  come  in  his  leathern  apron, 
and  to  bring  his  huge  sledge-hammer  with 
him,  which,  the  archbishop  himself  said, 
had  now  become  as  honorable  a  weapon  as 
a  two-handed  sword  itself. 

Never  before  had  such  an  honor  been 
bestowed  upon  a  common  man ;  and,  al- 


the  lordly  Archbishop 
and  Elector  of  Treves.  But,  what  was  more 
disquieting,  they  beheld  also  the  blacksmith 
standing  before  the  dais,  some  distance  in 
front  of  the  emperor,  clad  in  his  leathern 
apron,  with  his  big,  brawny  hands  folded 
over  the  top  of  the  handle  of  his  huge 
sledge-hammer.  Behind  him  were  ranged 
his  twelve  sons.  There  were  deep  frowns 
on  the  brows  of  the  nobles  when  they  saw 
this;  and,  after  kneeling  and  protesting 
their  loyalty  to  the  emperor,  they  stood 
aloof  and  apart,  leaving  a  clear  space  be- 
tween themselves  and  the  plebeian  black- 

Digitizecmy  VjUUV  Ia~ 


148 


THE  ARCHBISHOP'S  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


smith,  on  whom  they  cast  lowering 
looks. 

When  the  salutations  to  the  emperor  had 
been  given,  the  archbishop  took  a  step 
forward  on  the  dais,  and  spoke  in  a  clear 
voice  that  could  be  heard  to  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  room. 

"My  lords,"  he  said,  "I  have  invited 
you  hither  that  you  may  have  the  privi- 
lege of  doing  honor  to  a  brave  man.  I  ask 
you  to  salute  the  blacksmith  Arras,  who, 
when  his  country  was  in  danger,  crushed 
the  invaders  as  effectually  as  ever  his  right 
arm,  wielding  sledge,  crushed  hot  iron." 

A  red  flush  of  confusion  overspread  the 
face  of  the  blacksmith;  but  loud  murmurs 
broke  out  among  the  nobility,  and  none 
stepped  forward  to  salute  him.  One  in- 
deed stepped  forward,  but  it  was  to  appeal 
to  the  emperor. 

"  Your  Majesty,"  said  Count  Bertrich, 
"this  is  an  unwarranted  breach  of  our 
privileges.  It  is  not  meet  that  we,  hold- 
ing noble  names,  should  be  asked  to 
consort  with  an  untitled  blacksmith.  I 
appeal  to  your  Majesty  against  the  arch- 
bishop under  the  feudal  law." 

All  eyes  turned  upon  the  emperor,  who, 
after  a  pause,  spoke  and  said : 


"Count  Bertrich  is  right,  and  I  sustain 
his  appeal." 

An  expression  of  triumph  came  into  the 
red,  bibulous  face  of  Count  Bertrich,  and 
the  nobles  shouted  joyously: 

"  The  emperor,  the  emperor!  " 

The  archbishop,  however,  seemed  in  no 
way  nonplussed  by  his  defeat;  but  said, 
addressing  the  armorer: 

"Advance,  blacksmith,  and  do  homage 
to  your  emperor  and  mine." 

When  the  blacksmith  knelt  before  the 
throne,  the  emperor,  taking  his  jeweled 
sword  from  his  side,  smote  him  lightly  on 
his  broad  shoulders,  saying: 

"Arise,  Count  Arras,  noble  of  the  Ger- 
man empire,  and  first  lord  of  the  Alf- 
thal." 

The  blacksmith  rose  slowly  to  his  feet, 
bowed  lowly  to  the  emperor,  and  backed 
to  the  place  where  he  had  formerly  stood, 
again  resting  his  hands  on  the  handle  of 
his  sledge-hammer. 

The  look  of  exultation  faded  from  the 
face  of  Count  Bertrich,  and  was  replaced 
by  an  expression  of  dismay;  for  he  had 
been,  till  that  moment,  himself  first  lord 
of  the  Alf-thal,  with  none  second. 

"  My  lords,"  once  more  spoke  up  the 


V 


'< 


"THE  BLACKSMITH  AND  HIS  MEN   ROLLED  GREAT  STONES  AND   ROCKS  DOWN   UPON  THEM, 

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ROBERT  BARR. 


149 


*  MY    LORDS, 


[  ASK  YOU  TO  SALUTE  THE  BLACKSMITH." 


archbishop,  "  I  ask  you  to  salute  Count 
Arras,  first  lord  of  the  Alf-thal." 

No  noble  moved,  and  again  Count  Ber- 
trich  appealed  to  the  emperor. 

44  Are  we  to  receive  on  terms  of  equal- 
ity," he  said,  "  a  landless  man — a  count  of 
a  blacksmith's  hut,  a  first  lord  of  a  forge  ? 
For  the  second  time  I  appeal  to  your 
Majesty  against  such  an  outrage." 

The  emperor  replied  calmly: 

44  Again  I  support  the  appeal  of  Count 
Bertrich." 

There  was  this  time  no  applause  from 
the  surrounding  nobles;  for  many  of  them 
had  some  smattering  idea  of  what  was 
next  to  happen,  although  the  muddled 
brain  of  Count  Bertrich  gave  him  no  inti- 
mation of  it. 

44  Count  Arras,"  said  the  archbishop,  "  I 
promised  you  a  Christmas  gift  when  last  I 
left  you  at  your  smithy  door.  I  now  be- 
stow upon  you  and  your  heirs  forever  this 
castle  of  Burg  Arras  and  the  lands  ad- 
joining it.  I  ask  you  to  hold  it  for  me 
well  and  faithfully,  as  you  held  the  pass  of 
the  Eifel.  My  lords,"  continued  the  arch- 
bishop, turning  to  the  nobles,  with  a  ring 
of  menace  in  his  voice,  "  I  ask  you  to 
salute  Count  Arras,  your  equal  in  title, 
your  equal  in  possessions,  and  the  superior 


of  any  one  of  you  in  patriotism  and  brav- 
ery. If  any  noble  question  his  courage, 
let  him  neglect  to  give  Count  of  Burg 
Arras  his  title  and  salutation  as  he  passes 
before  him." 

44  Indeed,  and  that  will  not  I,"  said  the 
tall  noble  who  had  sat  at  Bertrich's  right 
hand  in  his  castle;  44  for,  my  lords,  if  we 
hesitate  longer,  this  doughty  blacksmith 
will  be  emperor  before  we  know  it." 
Then  advancing  towards  the  ex-armorer, 
he  said  : 

44  My  lord,  Count  of  Burg  Arras,  it  gives 
me  pleasure  to  salute  you  and  to  hope  that 
when  emperor  or  archbishop  are  to  be 
fought  for  your  arm  will  be  no  less  power- 
ful in  a  coat  of  mail  than  it  was  when  you 
wore  a  leathern  apron." 

One  by  one  the  nobles  passed  and  saluted, 
as  their  leader  had  done,  Count  Bertrich 
hanging  back  until  the  last;  then,  as  he 
passed  the  new  Count  of  Burg  Arras,  he 
hissed  at  him,  with  a  look  of  rage,  the 
single  word  "Blacksmith!" 

The  Count  of  Burg  Arras,  stirred  to 
sudden  anger,  and  forgetting  in  whose 
presence  he  stood,  swung  his  huge  sledge- 
hammer round  his  head,  and  brought  it 
down  on  the  armored  back  of  Count  Ber- 
trich, roaring  the  word  "Anvil/9' 

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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF  THE  CIVIL   WAR. 


The  armor  splintered  like  crushed  ice, 
and  Count  Bertrich  fell  prone  on  his  face 
and  lay  there.  There  was  instant  cry  of 
44  Treason!  treason!"  and  shouts  of:  "  No 
man  may  draw  arms  in  the  emperor's 
presence." 

"  My  lord  emperor,"  cried  the  Count  of 
Burg  Arras,  41 1  crave  pardon  if  I  have 
done  amiss.  A  man  does  not  forget  the 
tricks  of  his  old  calling  when  he  takes  on 
new  honors.  Your  Majesty  has  said  that  I 
am  a  count.  This  man,  having  heard  your 
Majesty's  word,  proclaims  me  blacksmith, 
and  so  gives  the  lie  to  his  emperor.  For 
this  I  struck  him,  and  would  again,  even 
though  he  stood  before  the  throne  in  a 
palace  or  the  altar  in  a  cathedral.  If 
that  be  treason,  take  from  me  your  hon- 


ors and  let  me  back  to  my  forge,  where 
this  same  hammer  will  mend  the  armor  it  has 
broken  or  beat  him  out  anew  back-piece." 

44  You  have  broken  no  tenet  of  the  feu- 
dal law,"  said  the  emperor.  "You  have 
broken  nothing,  I  trust,  but  the  count's 
armor;  for,  as  I  see  he  is  arousing  himself, 
doubtless  no  bones  are  broken.  The 
feudal  law  does  not  regard  a  black- 
smith's hammer  as  a  weapon.  And  as  for 
treason,  Count  of  Burg  Arras,  may  my 
throne  always  be  surrounded  by  such  trea- 
son as  yours!  " 

And  for  centuries  after,  the  descendants 
of  the  blacksmith  were  Counts  of  Burg 
Arras  and  held  the  castle  of  that  name, 
whose  ruins  to-day  attest  the  excellence 
Qf  the  archbishop's  building. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    MEN    AND    EVENTS    OF    THE 

CIVIL   WAR. 

By  Charles  A.  Dana, 
Assistant  Secretary  of  War  from  1863  to  1865. 

ILLUSTRATED  WITH  PORTRAITS  FROM  THE  WAR  DEPARTMENT  COLLECTION  OF 

CIVIL   WAR    PHOTOGRAPHS 

II. 


FROM    MEMPHIS   TO   VICKSBURG— THE   VICKSBURG   CAMPAIGN. 


IT  was    from    Columbus,   Kentucky,  on 
March  20,    1863,  that  I  sent  my  first 
telegram  to  the  War  Department. 

I  did  not  remain  in  Columbus  long,  for 
there  was  absolutely  no  trustworthy  in- 
formation there  respecting  affairs  down  the 
river,  but  took  a  boat  to  Memphis,  where 
I  arrived  March  23d.  I  found  General 
Hurlbut  in  command.  I  had  met  Hurl- 
but  in  January,  when  on  my  cotton  busi- 
ness, and  he  gave  me  every  opportunity 
to  gather  information  concerning  the  oper- 
ations against  Vicksburg.  But  in  spite 
of  all  his  courtesies,  I  had  not  been  long  at 
Memphis  before  I  decided  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  gather  trustworthy  news  there. 
I  accordingly  suggested  to  Mr.  Stanton, 
three  days  after  my  arrival,  that  I  would 
be  more  useful  farther  down  the  river.  In 
reply  he  telegraphed  me: 

War  Department, 
Washington  City,  March  30,  1863. 
C.  A. 'Dana,  Esq.,  Memphis,  Tenn.,  via  Cairo: 

Your  telegrams  have  been  received,  and  although 
the  information  has  been  meager  and  unsatisfactory, 


I  am  conscious  that  arises  from  no  fault  of  yours. 
You  will  proceed  to  General  Grant's  headquarters,  or 
wherever  you  may  be  best  able  to  accomplish  the  pur- 
poses designated  by  this  Department.  You  will  con- 
sider your  movements  to  be  governed  by  your  own 
discretion  without  any  restriction. 

Edwin  M.  Stanton, 

Secretary  of  War. 

As  soon  after  receiving  this  telegram  as 
I    could    get  a  boat,  I   left  Memphis  for 
Milliken's  Bend,  where  General  Grant  had 
his  headquarters.    I  reached  there  at  noon 
on    April    6th.     The  Mississippi  at  Milli- 
ken's Bend  was  a  mile  wide,  and  the  sight 
as  we  came  down  the  river  by  boat  was 
most   imposing.      Grant's  big  army  was 
stretched  up  and  down  the  river  bank,  over 
the  plantations,  its  white  tents  affording  a 
new  decoration  to  the  natural  magnificence 
of  the  broad  plains.     These  plains,  which 
stretch    far    back    from    the   river,  were 
divided  into  rich  and  old  plantations  by 
blooming  hedges  of  rose  and  osage  orange, 
the  mansions    of    the    owners   being  en- 
closed in  roses,  myrtles,  magnolias,  oaks, 


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CHARLES  A.  DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


151 


GENERAL  WILLIAM   T.    SHERMAN. 

The  rank  of  General  Sherman  in  the  Vicksburg  campaign  was  that  of  a  major-general  of  volunteers.    He  commanded  the  Fifteenth  Army  Corps. 


and  every  other  sort  of  beautiful  and  noble 
trees.  The  negroes  whose  work  made  all 
this  wealth  and  magnificence  were  gone, 
and  there  was  nothing  growing  in  the 
fields. 

I  had  not  been  long  at  Milliken's  Bend 
before  I  was  on  friendly  terms  with  all  the 
generals,  big  and  little,  and  one  or  two  of 


them  I  found  were  very  rare  men — Sher- 
man'especially  impressed  me  as  a  man  of 
genius  and  of  the  widest  intellectual  acqui- 
sitions. Every  day  I  rode  in  one  direction 
or  another  with  an  officer,  inspecting  the 
operations  going  on.  From  what  I  saw 
on  my  rides  over  the  country,  I  got  a  new 
insight  into  slavery,  which  made  me  no 
Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


*5* 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


more  a  friend  to  that  institution  than  I 
was  before.  I  had  seen  slavery  in  Mary- 
land, Kentucky,  Virginia,  and  Missouri, 
but  it  was  not  till  I  saw  these  great  Louisi- 
ana plantations,  with  all  their  apparatus 
for  living  and  working,  that  I  really  felt 
the  aristocratic  nature  of  the  institution 
and  the  infernal  baseness  of  that  aristoc- 
racy. Every  day  my  conviction  was  inten- 
sified that  the  territorial  and  political  in- 
tegrity of  the  nation  must  be  preserved  at 
all  costs  and  no  matter  how  long  it  took; 
that  it  was  better  to  keep  up  the  existing 
war  as  long  as  was  necessary  rather  than 
to  make  arrangement  for  indefinite  wars 
hereafter  and  for  other  disruptions;  that 
we  must  have  it  out  then,  and  settle  for- 
ever the  question,  so  that  our  children 
would  be  able  to  attend  to  other  matters. 
For  my  own  part,  I  preferred  one  nation 
and  one  country,  with  a  military  govern- 
ment afterwards,  if  such  should  follow, 
rather  than  two  or  three  nations  and  coun- 
tries with  the  semblance  of  the  old  Consti- 
tution in  each  of  them,  ending  in  wars  and 
despotisms  everywhere. 


GRANT  S    NEW    PLAN    OF    CAMPAIGN. 

As  soon  as  I  arrived  at  Milliken's  Bend 
on  April  6th  I  hunted  up  Grant  and 
explained  my  mission.  He  received  me 
cordially.  Indeed,  I  think  Grant  was 
always  glad  to  have  me  with  his  army. 
He  did  not  like  letter  writing,  and  my 
daily  despatches  to  Mr.  Stanton  relieved 
him  from  the  necessity  of  describing  every 
day  what  was  going  on  in  the.  army.  From 
the  first  neither  he  nor  any  of  his  staff  or 
corps  commanders  evinced  any  unwilling- 
ness to  show  me  the  inside  of  things.  In 
this  first  interview  at  Milliken's  Bend,  for 
instance,  Grant  explained  to  me  so  fully 
a  new  plan  of  campaign  against  Vicks- 
burg  which  he  had  just  adopted  that  by 
three  o'clock  I  was  able  to  send  an  outline 
of  it  to  Mr.  Stanton,  and  from  that  time  I 
saw  and  knew  all  the  interior  operations  of 
that  toughest  of  tough  jobs — the  reopening 
of  the  Mississippi. 

The  new  project,  so  Grant  told  me,  was 
to  transfer  his  army  to  New  Carthage  (see 
map,  page  161);  from  there  carry  it  over 
the  Mississippi,  landing  at  or  about  Grand 
Gulf;  capture  this  point,  and  then  operate 
rapidly  on  the  southern  and  eastern  shore 
of  the  Big  Black  River,  threatening  at  the 
same  time  both  Vicksburg  and  Jackson, 
and  confusing  the  Confederates  as  to  his 
real  objective.      If  this  could  be  done,  he 


believed  the  enemy  would  come  out  of 
Vicksburg  and  fight. 

The  first  element  in  this  plan  was  to 
open  a  passage  from  the  Mississippi,  near 
Milliken's  Bend,  above  Vicksburg,  to  the 
bayou  on  the  west  side,  which  led  around 
to  New  Carthage  below.  The  work  on 
this  canal  was  already  begun.  A  part  of 
one  of  the  army  corps — that  under  General 
John  A.  McClernand — had  already  reached 
New  Carthage,  and  Grant  was  hurrying 
other  troops  forward. 

The  second  and  perhaps  most  vital  part 
of  the  plan  was  to  float  down  the  river, 
past  the  Vicksburg  batteries,  a  half-dozen 
steamboats  protected  by  defenses  of  bales 
of  cotton  and  wet  hay,  and  loaded  with 
supplies  and  munitions  for  the  troops  to 
operate  from  the  new  base  below. 

Perhaps  the  best  evidence  of  the  feasi- 
bility of  the  project  was  found  in  the  fact 
that  the  river  men  pronounced  its  success 
certain.  General  VV.  T.  Sherman,  who 
commanded  one  of  the  three  corps  (the 
Fifteenth)  in  Grant's  army  and  with  whom 
I  conversed  at  length  upon  the  subject, 
thought  there  was  no  difficulty  in  opening 
the  passage,  but  that  the  line  would  be  a 
precarious  one  (for  supplies)  after  the 
army  was  thrown  across  the  Mississippi. 
But  it  was  not  long  in  our  daily  talks  be- 
fore I  saw  his  mind  was  tending  to  the  con- 
clusion of  General  Grant.  As  for  General 
Grant,  his  purpose  from  its  conception 
was  dead  set  on  the  new  scheme.  Ad- 
miral Porter  cordially  agreed  with  him. 

There  seemed  to  be  only  one  hitch  in 
the  campaign.  Grant  had  intrusted  the 
attack  on  Grand  Gulf  to  General  McCler- 
nand, who  had  already  advanced  as  far 
as  New  Carthage  with  part  of  his  corps. 
Now  McClernand  was  thoroughly  dis- 
trusted by  the  majority  of  the  officers  in 
Grant's  army.  They  believed  him  am- 
bitious to  capture  Vicksburg  on  his  own 
responsibility,  and  thought  that  hearty  co- 
operation with  the  rest  of  the  army  could 
not  be  expected  from  him.  There  was 
some  reason  for  this  feeling.  McClernand 
was  an  Illinois  Democrat  who  had  resigned 
from  Congress  at  the  breaking  out  of  the 
war  and  returned  home  to  raise  the  body 
of  troops  known  as  the  McClernand  Bri- 
gade. President  Lincoln,  anxious  to  hold 
him  and  his  friends  to  the  war,  had  ap- 
pointed McClernand  a  brigadier-general  of 
volunteers,  and  had  in  many  ways  favored 
his  plans  and  advanced  his  interests.  Mc- 
Clernand and  his  division  did  good  service 
at  Fort  Donelson  and  Shiloh,  and  in  De- 
cember, 1862,  he  was  appointed  to  the  corn- 
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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


*53 


GKNEKAL  JOHN    A.    LOGAN. 

In  1863  General  Logan  was  major-general  of  volunteers,  and  commanded  the  third  division  of  the  Seventeenth  Army  Corps,  which  was  under 

General  James  B.  McPherson. 


mand  of  an  independent  expedition  against 
Vicksburg,  within  the  departmental  juris- 
diction of  Grant  however.  He  had  always 
resented  Grant's  interference,  and  endeav- 
ored to  carry  on  a  campaign  on  the  lower 
Mississippi  untrammeled  by  Grant's  supe- 
rior authority.  Later,  by  authority  of 
General  Halleck,  Grant  went  down  the 
river  and  assumed  personal  command  of 
all  the  operations  against  Vicksburg, 
greatly  reenforcing  the  army,  thus  again 


relegating  McClernand  to  a  secondary 
part.  Naturally,  this  condition  of  affairs 
had  tended  to  prejudice  the  other  officers 
of  the  army,  who  were  generally  friendly 
to  Grant,  agajnst  McClernand,  and  when  it 
was  known  that  he  was  to  lead  the  advance 
in  the  new  campaign  there  was  a  strong 
protest.  Sherman  and  Porter,  particularly, 
believed  it  a  mistake,  and  talked  frankly 
with  me  about  it.  One  night  when  we 
had  all  gathered  at  Grant's  headquarters 
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154 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


and  were  talking  over  the  campaign  very 
freely,  as  we  were  accustomed  to  do,  both 
Sherman  and  Porter  protested  against  the 
arrangement.  But  Grant  would  not  be 
changed.  McClernand,  he  said,  was  ex- 
ceedingly desirous  of  the  command.  He 
was  the  senior  of  the  other  corps  com- 
manders. He  was  an  especial  favorite  of 
the  President,  and  the  position  which  his 
corps  occupied  on  the  ground  when  the 
movement  was  first  projected  was  such 
that  the  advance  naturally  fell  to  its  lot. 
Besides,  McClernand  had  entered  zealously 
into  the  plan  from  the  first,  while  Sherman 
had  doubted  and  criticised;  and  McPher- 
son,  who  commanded  the  Seventeenth 
Corps,  and  whom  Grant  said  he  would 
really  have  much  preferred,  was  away  at 
Lake  Providence,  and  though  he  had  ap- 
proved of  the  scheme,  he  had  taken  no 
active  part  in  it. 

I  believed  the  assignment  of  this  duty 
to  McClernand  to  be  so  dangerous  that  I 
added  my  expostulation  to  those  of  the 
generals,  and  in  reporting  the  case  to  Mr. 
Stanton  I  said:  "I  have  remonstrated 
so  far  as  I  could  properly  do  so  against 
entrusting  so  momentous  an  operation  to 
McClernand." 

Mr.  Stanton  replied:  "Allow  me  to 
suggest  that  you  carefully  avoid  giving 
any  advice  in  respect  to  commands  that 
may  be  assigned,  as  it  may  lead  to  misun- 
derstanding and  troublesome  complica- 
tions." Of  course,  after  that,  I  scrupu- 
lously observed  his  directions,  even  in 
extreme  cases. 

As  the  days  went  on  everybody,  in  spite 
of  this  hitch,  became  more  sanguine  that 
the  new  project  would  succeed.  For  my 
own  part  I  had  not  a  doubt  of  it,  as  one 
can  see  from  this  fragment  written  from 
Milliken's  Bend  on  April  13th  to  one  of  my 
friends: 

"  Like  all  who  really  know  the  facts,  I 
feel  no  sort  of  doubt  that  we  shall  before 
long  get  the  nut  cracked.  Probably  before 
this  letter  reaches  New  York,  on  its  way  to 
you,  the  telegraph  will  get  ahead  of  it 
with  the  news  that  Grant,  masking  Vicks- 
burg,  deemed  impregnable  by  its  defend- 
ers, has  carried  the  bulk  of  his  army  down 
the  river,  through  a  cut-off  which  he  has 
opened  without  the  enemy  believing  it 
could  be  done;  has  occupied  Grand  Gulf, 
taken  Port  Hudson,  and,  effecting  a  junc- 
tion with  the  forces  of  Banks,  has  returned 
up  the  river  to  threaten  Jackson  and  com- 
pel the  enemy  to  come  out  of  Vicksburg 
and  fight  him  on  ground  of  his  own  choos- 
ing.    Of  course  this  scheme  may  miscarry 


in  whole  or  in  parts;  but  as  yet  the  chances 
all  favor  its  execution,  which  is  now  just 
ready  to  begin." 

RUNNING    THE    VICKSBURG    BATTERIES. 

•Admiral  Porter's  arrangements  for  car- 
rying out  the  second  part  of  Grant's 
scheme — that  is,  running  the  Vicksburg 
batteries — were  all  completed  by  April 
16th,  the  ironclads  and  steamers  being  pro- 
tected in  vulnerable  parts  by  bulwarks  of 
hay,  cotton,  and  sandbags,  and  the  barges 
loaded  with  forage,  coal,  and  the  camp 
equipment  of  General  McClernand's  corps, 
which  was  already  at  New  Carthage.  Ad- 
miral Porter  was  to  go  with  the  expedition 
on  a  small  tug,  and  he  invited  me  to  ac- 
company him;  but  I  felt  that  I  ought  not 
to  get  out  of  my  communications,  and  so 
refused.  Instead,  I  joined  Grant  on  his 
headquarters  boat,  which  was  stationed 
on  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  where,  from 
the  bows,  we  could  see  the  squadron  as  it 
started  and  could  follow  its  course  until 
it  was  nearly  past  Vicksburg. 

Just  before  ten  o'clock  on  the  night  of 
April  16th  the  squadron  cast  loose  from  its 
moorings.  It  was  a  strange  scene.  First 
one  big  black  mass  detached  itself  from  the 
shore,  and  we  saw  it  float  out  toward  the 
middle  of  the  stream.  There  was  nothing 
to  be  seen  except  this  black  mass,  which 
dropped  slowly  down  the  river.  Soon  an- 
other black  mass  detached  itself,  then 
another,  and  another.  It  was  Admiral 
Porter's  fleet  of  ironclad  turtles,  steam- 
boats, and  barges.  They  floated  down  the 
Mississippi  darkly  and  silently,  showing 
neither  steam  nor  light,  save  occasionally 
a  signal  astern,  where  the  enemy  could  not 
see  it. 

The  vessels  moved  at  intervals  of  about 
200  yards.  First  came  seven  ironclad 
turtles  and  one  heavy-armed  ram;  follow- 
ing these  were  two  side-wheel  steamers 
and  one  stern-wheel,  having  twelve  barges 
in  tow:  these  barges  carried  the  supplies. 
Far  astern  of  them  was  one  carrying  am- 
munition. The  most  of  the  gunboats  had 
already  doubled  the  tongue  of  land  which 
stretches  northeasterly  in  front  of  Vicks- 
burg, and  they  were  immediately  under  the 
guns  of  nearly  all  the  Confederate  batter- 
ies, when  there  was  a  flash  from  the  ene- 
my's upper  forts,  and  then  for  an  hour 
and  a  half  the  cannonade  was  terrific, 
raging  incessantly  along  the  line  of  about 
four  miles  in  extent.  I  counted  525  dis- 
charges. Early  in  the  action  the  enemy 
set   fire  to  a  frame  building  in   front  of 

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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


»55 


GENERAL   K.    O.   C.    ORO. 

Old  belonged  to  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee  from  May,  x86s,  but  a  wound  received  at  Corinth  kept  him  from  serving  In  the  earlier  part  of  the  Vicks- 
burg  campaign.    When  McClernand  was  nUered,  June  18, 1863,  Ord  was  given  his  command,  the  Thirteenth  Army  Corps. 


Vicksburg  to  light  up  the  scene  and  direct 
his  fire. 

About  12.45  a.m.,  one  of  our  steamers, 
44  Henry  Clay,"  took  fire  and  burned  for 
three-quarters  of  an  hour.  The  "  Henry 
Clay"  was  lost  by  being  abandoned  by 
her  captain  and  crew  in  a  panic,  they 
thinking  her  to  be  sinking.  The  pilot  re- 
fused to  go  with  them,  and  said  if  they 
would  stay  they  would  get  her  through 
safe.  After  they  had  fled  in  the  yawls, 
the  cotton  bales  on  her  deck  took  fire,  and 
one  wheel  became  unmanageable.  The 
pilot  then  ran  her  aground,  and  got  upon 


a  plank,  from  which  he  was  picked  up  four 
miles  below. 

The  morning  after  Admiral  Porter  had 
run  the  Vicksburg  batteries,  I  went  with 
General  Grant  to  New  Carthage  to  review 
the  situation.  We  found  the  squadron 
there,  all  in  fighting  condition,  though 
most  of  them  had  been  hit.  Not  a  man 
had  been  lost. 

GRANT  CHANGES  HIS  HEADQUARTERS. 

A  few  days  after  the  running  of  the  Vicks- 
burg batteries,  General  Grant  changed  his 

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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


headquarters  to  Smith's  plantation,  near 
New  Carthage.  All  of  McClernand's 
corps,  the  Thirteenth,  was  now  there,  and 
that  officer  said  10,000  men  would  be 
ready  to  move  from  New  Carthage  the 
next  day.  McPherson's  corps,  which  had 
been  busy  upon  the  Lake  Providence  ex- 
pedition and  other  services,  but  which  had 
been  ordered  to  join,  was  now,  except  one 
division,  moving  over  from  Milliken's 
Bend.  Sherman's  corps,  the  Fifteenth, 
which  had  been  stationed  at  Young's 
Point,  was  also  under  marching  orders  to 
New  Carthage. 

Grant's  first  object  was  now  to  cross 
the  Mississippi  as  speedily  as  possible  and 
capture  Grand  Gulf  before  it  could  be  re- 
inforced; and  an  attack  was  ordered  to  be 
made  as  soon  as  the  troops  could  be  gotten 
ready  and  the  batteries  silenced — the  next 
day,  April  26th,  if  possible. 

McClernand's  delays. 

An  irritating  delay  occurred  here,  how- 
ever. When  we  came  to  Smith's  planta- 
tion on  the  24th,  I  had  seen  that  there 
was  apparently  much  confusion  in  Mc- 
Clernand's command,  and  we  had  been 
astonished  to  find,  now  that  he  was 
ordered  to  move  across  the  Mississippi, 
that  he  was  planning  to  carry  his  bride, 
with  her  servants  and  baggage,  along 
with  him,  although  Grant  had  ordered 
that  officers  should  leave  behind  every- 
thing that  could  impede  our  march. 

On  the  26th,  the  day  when  it  was  hoped 
to  make  an  attack  on  Grand  Gulf,  I  went 
with  Grant  by  water  from  our  headquar- 
ters at  Smith's  plantation  down  to  New 
Carthage  and  to  Perkins's  plantation  be- 
low, where  two  of  McClernand's  divisions 
were  encamped.  These  troops,  it  was  sup- 
posed, were  ready  for  immediate  embarka- 
tion, and  there  were  quite  as  many  as  all 
the  transports  could  carry;  but  the  first 
thing  which  struck  us  both  on  approach- 
ing the  points  of  embarkation  was  that 
the  steamboats  and  barges  were  scattered 
about  in  the  river  and  in  the  bayou  as  if 
there  was  no  idea  of  the  imperative  neces- 
sity of  the  promptest  possible  movement. 

We  at  once  steamed  to  Admiral  Porter's 
flagship,  which  was  lying  just  above  Grand 
Gulf,  and  Grant  sent  for  McClernand, 
ordering  him  to  embark  his  men  without 
losing  a  moment.  In  spite  of  this  order, 
that  night  at  dark,  when  a  thunder-storm 
set  in,  not  a  single  cannon  or  man  had 
been  moved.  Instead,  McClernand  held 
a  review  of  a  brigade  of  Illinois  troops  at 


Perkins's,  about  four  p.m.  At  the  same 
time  a  salute  of  artillery  was  fired,  not- 
withstanding that  positive  orders  had  re- 
peatedly been  given  to  use  no  ammunition 
for  any  purpose  except  against  the  enemy. 
What  made  McClernand's  delay  still 
more  annoying  was  the  fact  that  when  we 
got  back  from  the  river  to  our  headquar- 
ters the  night  of  the  26th,  we  found  that 
McPherson  had  arrived  at  Smith's  planta- 
tion with  the  first  division  of  his  corps,  the 
rear  being  back  no  farther  than  Rich- 
mond. His  whole  force  would  have  been 
up  the  next  day,  but  it  was  necessary  to 
arrest  its  movements  until  McClernand 
could  bte  got  out  of  the  way. 

THE  ATTACK  ON  GRAND  GULF. 

It  was  not  until  the  morning  of  the 
29th  that  Grant  had  troops  enough  con- 
centrated at  Hard  Times,  a  landing  on 
the  Louisiana  side  almost  directly  across 
from  Grand  Gulf,  to  land  at  the  foot  of 
the  Grand  Gulf  bluff  as  soon  as  its  bat- 
teries were  silenced.  At  eight  a.m.  pre- 
cisely the  gunboats  opened  their  attack. 
Seven  gunboats,  all  ironclads,  were  en- 
gaged, and  a  cannonade  was  kept  up  for 
nearly  six  hours.  The  batteries,  however, 
proved  too  much  for  the  gunboats,  and  Gen- 
eral Grant  determined  to  execute  an  alterna- 
tive plan,  which  he  had  had  in  mind  from 
the  first;  that  was  to  debark  the  troops  and 
march  them  south  across  the  peninsula 
which  faces  Grand  Gulf  to  a  place  out  of 
reach  of  the  rebel  guns.  The  movement 
was  undertaken  at  once,  and  a  body  of 
about  35,000  men  was  started  across  the 
peninsula  to  De  Shroon's  plantation,  where 
it  was  proposed  to  embark  them. 

Late  in  the  evening  I  left  Hard  Times 
with  Grant  to  ride  across  the  peninsula  to 
De  Shroon's.  The  night  was  pitch-dark, 
and,  as  we  rode  side  by  side, Grant's  horse 
suddenly  gave  a  nasty  stumble.  I  expected 
to  see  the  General  go  over  the  animal's 
head,  and  I  watched  intently,  not  to  see  if 
he  was  hurt,  but  if  he  would  show  any 
anger.  I  had  been  with  Grant  daily  now 
for  three  weeks,  and  I  had  never  seen  him 
ruffled  or  heard  him  swear.  His  equanim- 
ity was  becoming  a  curious  spectacle  to 
me.  When  I  saw  his  horse  lunge  my  first 
thought  was>  "  Now  he  will  swear."  For 
an  instant  his  moral  status  was  on  trial; 
but  Grant  was  a  tenacious  horseman,  and 
instead  of  going  over  the  animal's  head  as 
I  imagined  he  would,  he  kept  his  seat. 
Pulling  up  his  horse  he  rode  on,  and,  to 
my  utter  amazement,  without  a  word  or 

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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES.  157 

sign  of  impa- 
tience. And  it 
is  a  fact  that 
though  I  was 
with  Grant  dur- 
ing the  most  try- 
ing campaigns 
of  the  war,  I 
never  heard  him 
use  an  oath. 

We  reached 
De  Shroon's 
about  eleven 
o'clock.  The 
night  was  spent 
in  embarking 
the  men,  and  by 
eleven  o'clock 
the  next  morn- 
ing (April  30th) 
three  divisions 
were  landed  on 
the  east  shore  of 
the  Mississippi, 
at  the  place  Gen- 
eral Grant  had 
selected.  This 
was  Bruinsburg, 
sixty  miles  south 
of  Vicksburg, 
and  the  first 
point  south  of 
Grand  Gulf  from 
which  the  high- 
lands of  the  in- 
terior could  be 
reached  by  a 
road  over  dry 
land. 

I  was  obliged 
to  separate  from 
the  headquarters 
on  the  30th,  for 
the  means  for 
transporting  the 

f  roonS    and     offi  -  BUlr  commanded  the  second  division  of  the  Fifteenth  Army  Corps  throughout  the  Vicksburg  campaign. 

cers  were  so  lim- 
ited that  neither  an  extra  man  nor  a  par-  field  where  it  was  evident  that  there  had 
tide  of  unnecessary  baggage  was  allowed,  been  a  struggle.  I  got  out  of  the  wagon 
even  horses  and  tents  being  left  behind;  as  we  approached,  and  started  towards  a 
and  I  did  not  get  over  until  the  morning  of  little  white  house  with  green  blinds,  cov- 
May  1  st,  after  the  army  had  moved  on  Port  ered  with  vines.  It  was  here  I  saw  the  first 
Gibson,  where  they  first  engaged  the  enemy,  real  bloodshed  in  the  war.  The  little  white 
As  soon  as  I  was  landed  at  Bruinsburg  I  house  had  been  taken  as  a  field  hospital, 
started  in  the  direction  of  the  battle,  on  and  the  first  thing  my  eyes  fell  upon  as  I 
foot,  of  course,  as  my  horse  had  not  been  went  into  the  yard  was  a  heap  of  arms  and 
brought  over.  I  had  not  gone  far  before  I  legs  which  had  been  amputated  and  thrown 
overtook  a  quartermaster  driving  towards  into  a  pile  outside.  I  had  seen  men  shot, 
Port  Gibson,  who  took  me  into  his  wagon,  and  dead  men  plenty;  but  this  pile  of  legs 
About  four  miles  from  Port  Gibson  we  and  arms  gave  me  a  vivid  sense  of  war 
came  upon  the  first  signs  of  the  battle — a  such  as  I  had  not  before  experienced. 

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GENERAL   FRANCIS    P.    BI.AIR. 


i5« 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF  THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


I   SECURE    A    HORSE. 

As  the  army  was  pressing  the  Confeder- 
ates towards  Port  Gibson  all  that  day,  I 
followed  in  the  rear,  but  without  over- 
taking General  Grant.  While  trailing 
along  after  the  forces,  I  came  across  Fred 
Grant,  then  a  lad  of  thirteen,  who  had 
been  left  asleep  by  his  father  on  a  steamer 
at  Bruinsburg,  but  had  started  out  on 
foot,  like  myself,  as  soon  as  he  awakened 
and  found  the  army  had  marched.  We 
tramped  and  foraged  together  until  the 
next  morning,  when  some  officers  who 
had  captured  two  old  white  carriage  horses 
gave  us  each  one.  We  got  the  best  bridles 
and  saddles  we  could,  and  thus  equipped 
made  our  way  into  Port  Gibson,  which  the 
enemy  had  deserted  and  where  General 
Grant  now  had  his  headquarters.  I  rode 
that  old  horse  for  four  or  hsz  days;  then 
by  a  chance  I  got  a  good  one.  A  captured 
Confederate  officer  had  been  brought  be- 
fore General  Grant  for  examination.  This 
man  had  a  very  good  horse,  and  after 
Grant  had  finished  his  questions  the  officer 
said: 

"  General,  this  horse  and  saddle  are 
my  private  property;  they  do  not  belong 
to  the  Confederate  army;  they  belong  to 
me  as  a  citizen,  and  I  trust  you  will  let  me 
have  them.  Of  course,  while  I  am  a  pris- 
oner I  do  not  expect  to  be  allowed  to 
ride  the  horse,  but  I  hope  you  will  regard 
him  as  my  property  and  finally  restore 
him  to  me." 

"Well,"  said  Grant,  4I I  have  got  four 
or  five  first-rate  horses  wandering  some- 
where about  the  Southern  Confederacy. 
They  have  been  captured  from  me  in  bat- 
tle or  by  spies.  I  will  authorize  you, 
whenever  you  find  one  of  them,  to  take 
possession  of  him.  I  cheerfully  give  him 
to  you  ;  but  as  for  this  horse,  I  think  he  is 
just  about  the  horse  Mr.  Dana  needs." 

I  rode  my  new  acquisition  afterwards 
through  that  whole  campaign,  and  when 
I  came  away  I  turned  him  over  to  .the 
quartermaster.  Whenever  I  went  out  with 
General  Grant  anywhere,  he  always  asked 
some  funny  question  about  that  horse. 

MARCHING   INTO    THE   ENEMY'S   COUNTRY. 

It  was  the  2d  day  of  May,  1863,  when 
I  rode  into  Port  Gibson,  Mississippi,  and 
inquired  for  Grant's  headquarters.  I 
found  the  General  in  a  little  house  of  the 
village,  busily  directing  the  advance  of 
the  army.     By  the  next  morning  he  was 


ready  to  start  after  the  troops.  On  the 
4th  I  joined  him  at  his  headquarters  at 
Hankinson's  Ferry,  on  the  Big  Black,  and 
now  began  my  first  experience  with  an 
army  marching  into  an  enemy's  territory. 
A  glimpse  of  my  life  at  this  time  is  given 
in  this  letter  to  a  child,  written  the  day 
after  I  rejoined  Grant: 

Hankinson's  Ferry,  May  5. 

AH  of  a  sudden  it  is  very  cold  here.  Two  days 
ago  it  was  hot  like  summer,  but  now  I  sit  in  my 
tent  in  my  overcoat,  writing  and  thinking  if  I  only 
were  at  home  instead  of  being  almost  two  thousand 
miles  away. 

Away  yonder,  in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  I  hear  the 
drum  beat  that  calls  the  soldiers  to  their  supper.  It 
is  only  a  little  after  five  o'clock,  but  they  begin  the 
day  very  early  and  end  it  early.  Pretty  soon  after 
dark  they  are  all  asleep,  lying  in  their  blankets  un- 
der the  trees,  for  in  a  quick  march  they  leave  their 
tents  behind.  Their  guns  are  all  ready  at  their 
sides,  so  that  if  they  are  suddenly  called  at  night 
they  can  start  in  a  moment.  It  is  strange  in  the 
morning,  before  daylight,  to  hear  the  bugles  and 
drums  sound  the  reveille,  which  calls  the  army  to 
awake  up.  It  will  begin  perhaps  at  a  distance  and 
then  run  along  the  whole  line,  bugle  after  bugle,  and 
drum  after  drum  taking  it  up,  and  then  it  goes  from 
front  to  rear,  farther  and  farther  away,  the  sweet 
sounds  throbbing  and  rolling  while  you  lie  on  the 
grass  with  your  saddle  for  a  pillow,  half  awake  or 
opening  your  eyes  to  see  that  the  stars  are  still  bright 
in  the  sky,  or  that  there  is  only  a  faint  flush  in  the 
east  where  the  day  is  soon  to  break. 

Living  in  camp  is  queer  business.  I  get  my  meals 
in  General  Grant's  mess,  and  pay  my  share  of  the 
expenses.  The  table  is  a  chest  with  a  double  cover, 
which  unfolds  on  the  right  and  the  left ;  the  dishes, 
knives  and  forks,  and  caster  are  inside.  Sometimes 
we  get  good  things,  but  generally  we  don't.  The 
cook  is  an  old  negro,  black  and  grimy.  The  cook- 
ing is  not  as  clean  as  it  might  be,  but  in  war  you 
can't  be  particular  about  such  things. 

The  plums  and  peaches  here  are  pretty  nearly 
ripe.  The  strawberries  have  been  ripe  these  few 
days,  but  the  soldiers  eat  them  up  before  we  get  a 
sight  of  them.  The  figs  are  as  big  as  the  end  of 
your  thumb,  and  the  green  pears  are  big  enough  to 
eat.  But  you  don't  know  what  beautiful  flower  gar- 
dens there  are  here.  I  never  saw  such  roses,  and 
the  other  day  I  found  a  lily  as  big  as  a  tiger  lily, 
only  it  was  a  magnificent  red. 

OUR   COMMUNICATIONS   ARE   CUT. 

It  was  a  week  after  we  reached  Hankin- 
son's Ferry  before  word  came  to  head- 
quarters that  the  army  and  supplies  were 
all  across  the  Mississippi.  As  soon  as 
Grant  learned  this  he  gave  orders  that 
the  bridges  in  our  rear  be  burned,  guards 
abandoned,  and  communications  cut.  He 
intended  to  depend  thereafter  upon  the 
country  for  meat  and  even  for  bread.  So 
complete  was  our  isolation  that  it  was  ten 
days  after  this  order  was  given,  on  May 
nth,  before  I  was  able  to  send  another 
despatch  to  Mr.  Stanton. 

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CHARLES  A.  DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


159 


GENERAL  J.    H,  JOHNSTON. 

Grant  croMed  the  Mississippi  in  May,  1863,  General  Johnston  was  put  In  command  of  all  the  Confederate  forces  In  Mississippi,  but  he  was 

never  able  to  unite  with  Pemberton. 


The  march  which  we  now  made  was  to- 
ward Jackson,  and  it  proved  to  be  no  easy 
affair.  More  than  one  night  I  bivouacked 
on  the  ground  in  the  rain,  after  being  all 
day  in  my  saddle.  The  most  comfortable 
night  I  had,  in  fact,  was  in  a  church  of 
which  the  officers  had  taken  possession. 
Having  no  pillow,  I  went  up  to  the  pulpit 
and  borrowed  the  Bible  for  the  night. 
Dr.  H.  S.  Hewitt,  who  was  medical  direc- 
tor on  Grant's  staff,  slept  near  me,  and 
he  always  charged  me  afterwards  with 
stealing  that  Bible. 

In  spite  of  the  roughness  of  our  life,  it 


was  all  of  intense  interest  to  me,  particu- 
larly the  condition  of  the  people  over 
whose  country  we  were  marching.  A  fact 
which  impressed  me  was  the  total  absence 
of  men  capable  of  bearing  arms.  Only 
old  men.  and  children  remained.  The 
young  men  were  all  in  the  army  or  had 
perished  in  it.  The  South  was  drained  of 
its  youth.  An  army  of  half  a  million  with 
a  white  population  of  only  fat  millions  to 
draw  upon  must  soon  finish  the  stock  of 
raw  material  for  soldiers.  Another  fact 
of  moment  was  that  we  found  men  who 
had  at  the  first  sympathized  with  the  re- 

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i6o 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF  THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


bellion  and  even  joined  in  it,  but  now  of 
their  own  accord  rendered  us  the  most 
valuable  assistance,  in  order  that  the  rebel- 
lion might  be  ended  as  speedily  as  possi- 
ble and  something  saved  by  the  Southern 
people  out  of  the  otherwise  total  and 
hopeless  ruin.  "  Slavery  is  gone,  other 
property  is  mainly  gone,"  they  said;  "  but, 
for  God's  sake,  let  us  sav£  some  relic  of 
our  former  means  of  living." 

WE   ENTER    THE   CAPITAL    OF   MISSISSIPPI. 

It  was  on  the  ist  day  of  May  that  Grant 
had  made  his  first  advance  into  Missis- 
sippi. Two  weeks  later — the  evening  of 
May  14th — we  entered  the  capital  of  the 
State.  Here  I  received  an  important  tele- 
gram from  Mr.  Stanton,  though  how  it  got 
to  me  there  I  do  not  remember.  ;  General 
Grant  had  been  much  troubled  by  the  de- 
lay McClernand  had  caused  at  New  Car- 
thage, but  he  had  felt  reluctant  to  remove 
him  as  he  had  been  assigned  to  his  cpra- 
mand  by  the  President.  My  .reports  to 
the  Secretary  on  the  situation  had  con- 
vinced him  that  Grant  ought. to  have  per- 
fect independence  in  the  matter,  so  he  tele- 
graphed me  as  follows: 

Washington,  D.  C;  Afay  5/1863. 
C.  A.  Dana,  Esq.,  Smith's  Plantation,  La.:  ', 

General  Grant  has  full  and  absolute  authority  to 
enforce  his  own  commands  and  to  remove  any  per- 
son who  by  ignorance,  inaction,  or  any  cause  inter- 
feres with  or  delays  his  operations;  He  has  the  full 
confidence  of  the  Government,  is  expected  to  enforce 
his  authority,  and  will  be  firmly  and  heartily  sup- 
ported; but  he  will  be  responsible  for  any  failure  to 
exert  his  powers.  You  may  communicate  this  to 
him. 

E.  M.  Stanton, 

Secretary  of  War. 

The  very  evening  of  the  day  that  we 
reached  Jackson,  Grant  learned  that  Lieu- 
tenant-General  Pemberton  had  been  or- 
dered by  General  Joe  Johnston  to  come 
out  of  Vicksburg  and  attack  our  rear. 
Leaving  Sherman  in  Jackson  to  tear  up 
the  railroads  and  destroy  all  the  public 
property  there  that  could  be  of  use  to  the 
enemy,  Grant  immediately  faced  the  bulk 
of  his  army  about  to  meet  Pemberton. 

When  Grant  overtook  Pemberton  he  was 
in  a  most  formidable  position  on  the  crest 
of  a  wooded  ridge  called  Champion's  Hill, 
over  which  the  road  passed  longitudinally. 
About  eleven  o'clock  on  the  morning  of 
the  16th  the  battle  began,  and  by  four  in 
the  afternoon  it  was  won.  After  the  battle 
I  started  out  on  horseback  with  Colonel 
Rawlins    to    visit    the    field.     When  we 


reached  Logan's  command  we  found  him 
greatly  excited.  He  declared  the  day  was 
lost,  and  that  he  would  soon  be  swept  from 
his  position.  I  contested  the  point  with 
him.  "  Why,  General,"  I  said,  "  we  have 
gained  the  day."  He  could  not  see  it. 
"  Don't  you  hear  the  cannon  over  there  ?  " 
he  answered.  "  They  will  be  down  on  us 
right  away!  In  an  hour  I  will  have  20,000 
men  to  fight."  I  found  afterwards  that 
this  was  simply  a  curious  idiosyncrasy  of 
Logan's.  In  the  beginning  of  a  fight  he 
was  one  of  the  bravest  men  that  could  be 
— saw  no  danger — went  right  on  fighting 
until  the  battle  was  over.  Then,  after  the 
battle  was  won,  his  mind  gained  an  im- 
movable conviction  that  it  was  lost. 
Where  we  were  victorious,  he  thought  that 
we  were  defeated.  It  was  merely  an  intel- 
lectual peculiarity.  It  did  not  in  the  least 
impair  his  value  as  a  soldier  or  command- 
ing officer.  He  never  made  any  mistake 
on  account  of  it. 

On  leaving  Logan,  Rawlins  and  I  were 
joined  by  several  officers,  and  we  contin- 
ued our  ride  over  the  field.  On  the  hill 
where  the  thickest  of  the  fight  had  taken 
place  we  stopped,  and  were  looking 
around  at  the  dead  and  dying  men  lying 
all  about  us,  when  suddenly  a  man,  per- 
haps forty-five  or  fifty  years  old,  who  had 
a  Confederate  uniform  on,  lifted  himself 
up  on  his  elbow,  and  said: 

-  "  For  God's  sake,  gentlemen,  is  there  a 
Mason  among  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Rawlins,  "  I  am  a  Mason." 
He  got  off  his  horse  and  kneeled  by  the 
dying  man,  who  gave  him  some  letters  out 
of  his  pocket.  When  he  came  back  Raw- 
lins had  tears  on  his  cheek.  The  man,  he 
told  us,  wanted  him  to  convey  some  sou- 
venir, a  miniature  or  a  ring — I  do  not  re- 
member what — to  his  wife,  who  was  in 
Alabama.  Rawlins  took  the  package,  and 
some  time  afterward  he  succeeded  in  send- 
ing it  to  the  woman. 

I  remained  out  late  that  night  convers- 
ing with  the  officers  who  had  been  in  the 
battle,  and  think  it  must  have  been  about 
eleven  o'clock  when  I  got  to  Grant's  head- 
quarters, where  I  was  to  sleep.  Two  or 
three  officers  who  had  been  out  with  me 
went  with  me  into  the  little  cottage  which 
Grant  had  taken  possession  of.  We  found 
a  wounded  man  there,  a  tall  and  fine- 
looking  man — a  Confederate.  He  stood 
up  suddenly  and  said:  "  For  God's  sake, 
gentlemen,  kill  me!  Will  some  one  kill 
me  ?  I  am  in  such  anguish  that  it  will  be 
mercy  to  do  it — I  have  got  to  die — kill  me 
— don't  let  me  suffer ! ' '    We  sent  for  a  sur 

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CHARLES  A.  DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


161 


geon,  who  examined  his  case,  but  said  it 
was  hopeless.  He  had  been  shot  through 
the  head,  so  that  the  bullet  cut  off  the 
optic  nerve  of  both  eyes.  He  could  never 
see  again.     Before  morning  he  died. 

GRANT    BEHIND    VICKSBURG. 

After  the  battle  of  Champion's  Hill, 
Pemberton  started  towards  Vicksburg, 
but  made  a  stand  at  the  Big  Black  bridge. 
On  the  17th  he  was  routed  from  there 
and  retreated  rapidly  into  Vicksburg. 
Grant  was  not  long  after  him.  By  the 
evening  of  the  18th  he  had  his  army  be- 
hind the  town,  and  by  the  20th  his  invest- 
ment was  so  complete  that  I  telegraphed 
Mr.  Stanton: 

'  *  Probably  the  town  will  be  carried  to- 
day." 

The  assault  expected  was  not  made  un- 
til the  morning  of  the  22d.  It  failed,  but 
without  heavy  loss.  At  two  p.m.,  however, 
McClernand,  who  was  on  the  left  of  our 
lines,  reported  that  he  was  in  possession 
of  two  forts  of  the  rebel  line,  was  hard 
pressed,  and  in  great  need  of  reinforce- 
ments. Not  doubting  that  he  had  really 
succeeded  in  taking  and  holding  the  works 
he  pretended  to  hold,  General  Grant  sent 


a  division  to  his  support,  and  at  the  same 
time  ordered  Sherman  and  McPherson  to 
make  new  attacks.  McClernand's  report 
was  false,  for  although  a  few  of  his  men 
had  broken  through  in  one  place,  he  had 
not  taken  a  single  fort,  and  the  result  of 
the  second  assault  was  disastrous  :  we 
were  repulsed,  losing  quite  heavily,  when 
but  for  his  error  the  total  loss  of  the  day 
would  have  been  inconsiderable. 

The  failure  of  the  22d  convinced  Grant 
of  the  necessity  of  a  regular  siege,  and 
immediately  the  army  settled  down  to 
that.  We  were  in  an  incomparable  posi- 
tion for  a  siege  as  regarded  the  health  and 
comfort  of  our  men.  The  high  wooded 
hills  afforded  pure  air  and  shade,  and  the 
deep  ravines  abounded  in  springs  of  excel- 
lent water,  and  if  they  failed  it  was  easy 
to  bring  it  from  the  Mississippi.  Our  line 
of  supplies  was  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
enemy,  and  there  was  an  abundance  of 
fruit  all  about  us.  I  frequently  met  sol- 
diers coming  into  camp  with  buckets  full 
of  mulberries,  blackberries,,  and  red  and 
yellow  wild  plums. 

The  army  was  deployed  at  this  time  in 
the  following  order:  The  right  of  the  be- 
sieging force  was  held  by  General  Sher- 
man, whose  forces  ran  from  the  river 
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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OP   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


along  the  bluffs  around  the  northeast  of 
the  town.  Sherman's  front  was  at  a  greater 
distance  from  the  enemy  than  that  of  any 
other  corps,  and  the  approach  less  advan- 
tageous, but  he  began  his  siege  works  with 
great  energy  and  admirable  skill.  Every- 
thing I  saw  of  Sherman  at  the  Vicksburg 
siege  increased  my  admiration  for  him. 
He  was  a  very  brilliant  man,  and  an  ex- 
cellent commander  of  a  corps.  Sherman's 
information  was  great,  and  he  was  a  clever 
talker.  He  always  liked  to  have  people 
about  who  could  keep  up  with  his  conver- 
sation ;  besides,  he  was  genial  and  unaf- 
fected. I  particularly  admired  his  loyalty 
to  Grant.  He  had  criticised  the  expedi- 
tion frankly  in  the  first  place,  but  had 
supported  every  movement  with  all  his  en- 
ergy, and  now  that  we  were  in  the  rear  of 
Vicksburg  gave  loud  praise  to  the  com- 
mander-in-chief. 

To  the  left  of  Sherman  lay  the  Seven- 
teenth Army  Corps,  under  Major-General 
J.  B.  McPherson.  He  was  one  of  the 
best  officers  we  had.  He  was  but  thirty- 
four  years  old  at  the  time,  and  a  very 
handsome,  gallant-looking  man,  with 
rather  a  dark  complexion,  dark  eyes,  and 
a  most  cordial  manner.  McPherson  was 
an  engineer  officer  of  fine  natural  ability 
and  extraordinary  acquirements,  having 
graduated  number  one  in  his  class  at  West 
Point,  and  was  held  in  high  estimation 
by  Grant  and  his  professional  brethren. 
Halleck  gave  him  his  start  in  the  Civil 
War,  and  he  had  been  with  Grant  at 
Donelson  and  ever  since.  He  was  a  man 
without  any  pretensions,  and  always  had 
a  pleasant  shake-hands  for  you. 

To  McPherson's  left  was  the  Thirteenth 
Army  Corps,  under  Major-General  John 
A.  McClernand.  Next  to  Grant  he  was 
the  ranking  officer  in  the  army.  The  ap- 
proaches on  his  front  were  most  favorable 
to  us  and  the  enemy's  line  of  works  evi- 
dently much  the  weakest  there,  but  he  was 
very  inefficient  and  slow  in  pushing  his 
siege  operations.  Grant  had  resolved  on 
the  23d  to  relieve  McClernand  for  his  false 
despatch  of  the  day  before  stating  that  he 
held  two  of  the  enemy's  forts;  but  he 
changed  his  mind,  concluding  that  it  would 
be  better,  on  the  whole,  to  leave  him  in 
his  command  till  the  siege  was  concluded. 
My  own  judgment  of  McClernand  at  that 
time  was  that  he  had  not  the  qualities 
necessary  for  the  commander  even  of  a 
regiment.  In  the  first  place,  he  was  not 
a  military  man;  he  was  a  politician  and  a 
member  of  Congress.  He  was  a  man  of 
a  good  deal  of  a  certain  kind  of  talent, 


not  of  a  high  order,  but  not  one  of  intel- 
lectual accomplishments.  His  education 
was  that  which  a  man  gets  who  is  in  Con- 
gress five  or  six  years.  In  short,  McCler- 
nand was  merely  a  smart  man— quick, 
very  active-minded;  but  his  judgment  was 
not  solid,  and  he  looked  after  himself  a 
good  deal.  Mr.  Lincoln  also  looked  out 
carefully  for  McClernand.  It  was  a  great 
thing  to  get  McClernand  into  the  war 
in  the  first  place,  for  his  natural  pre- 
disposition, one  would  have  supposed, 
would  have  been  to  sympathize  with  the 
South.  As  long  as  he  adhered  to  the  war 
he  carried  his  Illinois  constituency  with 
him;  and  chiefly  for  this  reason,  doubtless, 
Lincoln  made  it  a  point  to  take  special 
care  of  him.  In  doing  this  the  President 
really  served  the  greater  good  of  the 
cause.  But  from  the  circumstance  of 
Lincoln's  supposed  friendship,  McCler- 
nand had  more  consequence  in  the  army 
than  he  deserved. 

McClernand,  Sherman,  and  McPherson 
were  Grant's  three  chief  officers,  but  there 
were  many  subordinate  officers  of  value  ir 
his  army,  not  a  few  of  whom  became  after- 
wards men  of  distinction.  In  order  to  set 
the  personnel  of  the  commanding  force 
distinctly  before  the  reader,  I  quote  here 
a  semi-official  letter  which  I  wrote  to 
Mr,  Stanton,  at  his  request,  in  July,  after 
the  siege  had  ended.  This  letter  has 
never  been  published  before,  and  it  gives 
my  judgment  at  that  time  of  the  subor- 
dinate officers  of  the  Vicksburg  campaign. 
Cairo,  III.,  July  12,  1863. 

Dear  Sir :  Your  despatch  of  Tunc  29th  desiring 
me  to  continue  my  "sketches"  I  have  to-day  seen 
for  the  first  time.  It  was  sent  down  the  river,  but 
had  not  arrived  when  I  left  Vicksburg  on  the  5th 
inst. 

Let  me  describe  the  generals  of  division  and  bri- 
gade in  Grant's  army,  in  the  order  of  the  army  corps 
to  which  they  are  attached,  beginning  with  the  Thir- 
teenth. 

The  most  prominent  officer  of  the  Thirteenth 
Corps,  next  to  the  commander  of  the  corps,  is  Briga- 
dier-General A.  P.  Hovey.  He  is  a  lawyer  of  In- 
diana, and  from  forty  to  forty-five  years  old.  He  is 
ambitious,  active,  nervous,  irritable,  energetic,  clear- 
headed, quick-witted,  and  prompt-handed.  He 
works  with  all  his  might  and  all  his  mind  ;  and,  un- 
like most  volunteer  officers,  makes  it  his  business  to 
learn  the  military  profession  just  as  if  he  expected  to 
spend  his  life  in  it.  He  distinguished  himself  most 
honorably  at  Port  Gibson  and  Champion's  Hill,  and 
is  one  of  the  best  officers  in  this  army.  He  is  a  man 
whose  character  will  always  command  respect, 
though  he  is  too  anxious  about  his  personal  renown 
and  his  own  advancement  to  be  considered  a  first- 
rate  man  morally,  judged  by  the  high  standard  of 
men  like  Grant  and  Sherman. 

Hovey's  principal  brigadiers  are  General  McGinnis 
and  Colonel  Slack.  McGinnis  is  brave  enough,  but 
too  excitable.      He   lost  his  balance  at  Champion's 

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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


163 


Hill.  He  is  not  likely  ever  to  be  more  than  a  briga- 
dier. Slack  is  a  solid,  steady  man,  brave,  thorough, 
and  sensible,  but  will  never  set  the  river  afire.  His 
education  is  poor,  but  he  would  make  a  respectable 
brigadier-general,  and  I  know  hopes  to  be  pro- 
moted. 

Next  to  Hovey  is  Osterhaus.  This  general  is 
universally  well  spoken  of.  He  is  a  pleasant,  genial 
fellow,  brave  and  quick,  and  makes  a  first-rate  report 
of  a  reconnaissance.  There  is  not  another  general 
in  this  army  who  keeps  the  commander-in-chief  so 
well  informed  concerning  whatever  happens  at  his 
outposts.  As  a  disciplinarian  he  is  not  equal  to 
Hovey,  but  is  much  better  than  some  others.  On 
the  battlefield  he  lacks  energy  and  concentrativeness. 
His  brigade  commanders  are  all  colonels,  and  I  don't 
know  much  of  them. 

The  third  division  of  the  Thirteenth  Corps  is  com- 
manded by  General  A.  J.  Smith,  an  old  cavalry  offi- 
cer of  the  regular  service.  He  is  intrepid  to  reck- 
lessness, his  head  is  clear  though  rather  thick,  his 
disposition  honest  and  manly,  though  given  to  boast- 
ing and  self-exaggeration  of  a  gentle  and  innocent 
kind.  His  division  is  well  cared  for,  but  is  rather 
famous  for  slow  instead  of  rapid  marching.  Mc- 
Clernand,  however,  disliked  him,  and  kept  him  in 
the  rear  throughout  the  late  campaign.  He  is  a 
good  officer  to  command  a  division  in  an  army  corps, 
but  should  not  be  intrusted  with  any  important  inde- 
pendent command. 

Smith's  principal  brigadier  is  General  Burbridge, 
whom  I  judge  to  be  a  mediocre  officer,  brave,  rather 
pretentious,  a  good  fellow,  not  destined  to  greatness. 

The  fourth  division  in  the  Thirteenth  Corps  is 
General  Carr's.  He  has  really  been  sick  throughout 
the  campaign,  and  had  leave  to  go  home  several  weeks 
since,  but  stuck  it  out  till  the  surrender.  This  may 
account  for  a  critical,  hang-back  disposition  which 
he  has  several  times  exhibited.  He  is  a  man  of 
more  cultivation,  intelligence,  and  thought  than  his 
colleagues  generally.  The  discipline  in  his  camps  I 
have  thought  to  be  poor  and  careless.  He  is  brave 
enough,  but  lacks  energy  and  initiative. 

Carr's  brigadiers  comprise  General  M.  K.  Lawier 
and  General  Lee  of  Kansas.  Lee  is  an  unmitigated 
humbug.  Lawier  weighs  250  pounds,  is  a  Roman 
Catholic,  and  was  a  Douglas  Democrat,  belongs  in 
Shawneetown,  111.,  and  served  in  the  Mexican  War. 
He  is  as  brave  as  a  lion,  and  has  about  as  much 
brains.  But  his  purpose  is  always  honest,  and  his 
sense  is  always  good.  He  is  a  good  disciplinarian 
and  a  first-rate  soldier.  He  once  hung  a  man  of 
his  regiment  for  murdering  a  comrade  without 
reporting  the  case  to  his  commanding  general,  either 
before  or  after  the  hanging,  but  there  was  no  doubt 
the  man  deserved  his  fate.  Grant  has  two  or  three 
times  gently  reprimanded  him  for  indiscretions,  but 
is  pretty  sure  to  go  and  thank  him  after  a  battle. 
Carr's  third  brigadier  I  don't  know. 

In  the  Fifteenth  Corps  there  are  two  major-gener- 
als who  command  divisions,  namely,  Steele  and  Blair, 
and  one  brigadier,  Tuttle.  Steele  has  also  been  sick 
through  the  campaign,  but  has  kept  constantly  at  his 
post.  He  is  a  gentlemanly,  pleasant  fellow.  .  .  . 
Sherman  has  a  high  opinion  of  his  capacity,  and 
every  one  says  that  he  handles  troops  with  great  cool- 
ness and  skill  in  battle.  To  me  his  mind  seems  to 
work  in  a  desultory  way,  like  the  mind  of  a  captain 
of  infantry  long  habituated  to  garrison  duty  at  a 
frontier  post.  He  takes  things  in  bits,  like  a  gossip- 
ing companion,  and  never  comprehensively  and 
strongly  like  a  man  of  clear  brain  and  a  ruling  pur- 
pose. But  on  the  whole  I  consider  him  one  of  the 
best  division  generals  in  this  army  ;  but  you  cannot 


rely  on  him  to  make  a  logical  statement  or  to  exer- 
cise any  independent  command. 

Of  Steele's  brigadiers.  Colonel  Woods  eminently 
deserves  promotion.  A  Hercules  in  form,  in  energy, 
and  in  pertinacity,  he  is  both  safe  and  sure.  Colo- 
nel Manter  of  Missouri  is  a  respectable  officer  ;  Colo- 
nel Farrar  of  Missouri  is  of  no  account  ;  General 
Thayer  is  a  fair,  but  not  first-rate  officer. 

Frank  Blair  is  about  the  same  as  an  officer  that  he 
is  as  a  politician.  He  is  intelligent,  prompt,  de- 
termined, rather  inclining  to  disorder,  a  poor  dis- 
ciplinarian but  a  brave  fighter.  I  judge  that  he  will 
soon  leave  the  army  and  that  he  prefers  his  seat  in 
Congress  to  his  commission. 

In  Frank  Blair's  division  there  are  two  brigadier, 
generals,  Ewing  and  Lightburn.  Ewing  seems  to 
possess  many  of  the  qualities  of  his  father,  whom 
you  know  better  than  I  do,  I  suppose.  Lightburn 
has  not  served  long  with  this  army,  and  I  have  had 
no  opportunity  of  learning  his  measure.  Placed  in  a 
command  during  the  siege  where  General  Sherman 
himself  directed  what  was  to  be  done,  he  has  had  lit- 
tle to  do.  He  seems  to  belong  to  the  heavy  rather 
than  the  rapid  department  of  the  forces. 

Colonel  Giles  Smith  is  one  of  the  very  best  briga- 
diers in  Sherman's  corps,  perhaps  the  best  of  all  next 
to  Colonel  Woods.  He  only  requires  the  chance,  to 
develop  into  an  officer  of  uncommon  power  and  use- 
fulness. There  are  plenty  of  men  with  generals' 
commissions  who,  in  all  military  respects,  are  not  fit 
to  tie  his  shoes. 

Of  General  Tuttle,  who  commands  Sherman's 
third  division,  I  have  already  spoken,  and  need  not 
here  repeat  it.  Bravery  and  zeal  constitute  his  only 
qualifications  for  command.  His  principal  brigadier 
is  General  Mower,  a  brilliant  officer,  but  not  of  large 
mental  caliber.  Colonel  Woods,  who  commands 
another  of  his  brigades,  is  greatly  esteemed  by  Gen- 
eral Grant,  but  I  do  not  know  him  ;  neither  do  I 
know  the  commander  of  his  third  brigade. 

Three  divisions  of  the  Sixteenth  Corps  have  been 
serving  in  Grant's  army  for  some  time  past.  They 
are  all  commanded  by  brigadier-generals,  and  the 
brigades  by  colonels.  The  first  of  these  divisions  to 
arrive  before  Vicksburg  was  Lauman's.  This  gen- 
eral got  his  promotion  by  bravery  in  the  field  and 
Iowa  political  influence.  He  is  totally  unfit  to  com- 
mand— a  very  good  man,  but  a  very  poor  general. 
His  brigade  commanders  are  none  of  them  above 
mediocrity.  The  next  division  of  the  Sixteenth 
Corps  to  join  the  Vicksburg  army  was  General  Kim- 
ball's, lie  is  not  so  bad  a  commander  as  Lauman, 
but  he  is  bad  enough  ;  brave  of  course,  but  lacking 
the  military  instinct  and  the  genius  of  generalship. 
I  don't  know  any  of  his  brigade  commanders.  The 
third  division  of  the  Sixteenth  Corps  now  near  Vicks- 
burg is  that  of  General  W.  S.  Smith.  This  is  one  of 
the  best  officers  in  that  army.  A  rigid  disciplinarian, 
his  division  is  always  ready  and  always  safe.  A 
man  of  brains,  a  hard  worker,  unpretending,  quick, 
suggestive,  he  may  also  be  a  little  crotchety,  for  such 
is  his  reputation  ;  but  I  judge  that  he  only  needs  the 
opportunity  to  render  great  services.  What  his 
brigade  commanders  are  worth  I  can't  say,  but  I  am 
sure  they  have  a  first-rate  schoolmaster  in  him. 

I  now  come  to  the  Seventeenth  Corps  and  to  its 
most  prominent  division  general,  Logan.  This  is  a 
man  of  remarkable  qualities  and  peculiar  character. 
Heroic  and  brilliant,  he  is  sometimes  unsteady.  In- 
spiring his  men  with  his  own  enthusiasm  on  the  field 
of  battle,  he  is  splendid  in  all  its  crash  and  commo- 
tion, but  before  it  begins  he  is  doubtful  of  the  result, 
and  after  it  is  over  he  is  fearful  we  may  yet  be 
beaten.     A  man  of  instinct  and  not  of  reflection,  his 


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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


judgments  are  often  absurd,  but  his  extemporane- 
ous opinions  are  very  apt  to  be  right.  Deficient  in 
education,  deficient,  too,  in  a  nice  and  elevated  moral 
sense,  he  is  full  of  generous  attachments  and  sincere 
animosities.  On  the  whole,  few  can  serve  the  cause 
of  the  country  more  effectively  than  he,  and  none 
serve  it  more  faithfully. 

Logan's  oldest  brigade  commander  is  General 
John  D.  Stevenson  of  Missouri.  He  is  a  person  of 
much  talent,  but  a  grumbler.  He  was  one  of  the 
oldest  colonels  in  the  volunteer  service,  but  because 
he  had  always  been  an  anti-slavery  man  all  the  others 
were  promoted  before  him.  This  is  still  one  of  his 
grounds  for  discontent,  and  in  addition  younger 
brigadiers  have  been  put  before  him  since.  Thus 
the  world  will  not  go  to  suit  him.  He  has  his  own 
notions,  too,  of  what  should  be  done  on  the  field  of 
battle,  and  General  McPherson  has  twice  during  this 
campaign  had  to  rebuke  him  very  severely  for  his 
failure  to  come  to  time  on  critical  occasions. 

Logan's  second  brigade  is  commanded  by  General 
Leggett  of  Ohio.  This  officer  has  distinguished 
himself  during  the  siege,  and  will  be  likely  to  dis- 
tinguish himself  hereafter.  He  possesses  a  clear 
head,  an  equable  temper,  and  great  propulsive  power 
over  his  men.  He  is  also  a  hard  worker,  and  what- 
ever he  touches  goes  easily.  The  third  brigade  of 
this  division  has  for  a  short  time  been  commanded 
by  Colonel  Force.  I  only  know  that  Logan,  Mc- 
Pherson, and  Grant  all  think  well  of  him. 

Next  in  rank  among  McPherson's  division  gen- 
erals is  McArthur.  He  has  been  in  the  reserve 
throughout  the  campaign  and  has  had  little  oppor- 
tunity of  proving  his  metal.  He  is  a  shrewd, 
steady  Scotchman,  trustworthy  rather  than  brilliant, 
good  at  hard  knocks,  but  not  a  great  commander. 
Two  of  his  brigadiers,  however,  have  gained  very 
honorable  distinction  in  this  campaign :  namely, 
Crocker,  who  commanded  Quinby's  division  at  Port 
Gibson,  Raymond,  Jackson,  and  Champion's  Hill  ; 
and  Ransom.  Crocker  was  sick  throughout,  and  as 
soon  as  Quinby  returned  to  his  command  had  to  go 
away,  and  it  is  feared  may  never  be  able  to  come 
back.  He  is  an  officer  of  great  promise  and  remark- 
able power.  Ransom  has  commanded  on  McPher- 
son's right  during  the  siege,  and  has  exceeded  every 
other  brigadier  in  the  zeal,  intelligence,  and  effi- 
ciency with  which  his  siege  works  were  constructed 
and  pushed  forward.  At  the  time  of  the  surrender 
his  trenches  were  so  well  completed  that  the  engi- 
neers agreed  that  they  offered  the  best  opportunity  in 
the  whole  of  our  lines  for  the  advance  of  storming 
columns.  Captain  Comstock  told  me  that  ten  thou- 
sand men  could  there  be  marched  under  cover  up  to 
the  very  lines  of  the  enemy.  In  the  assault  of  May 
22d,  Ransom  was  equally  conspicuous  for  the  bravery 
with  which  he  exposed  himself.  No  young  man  in 
all  this  army  has  more  future  than  he. 

The  third  brigade  of^McArthur's  division,  that  of 
General  Reid,  has  been  detached  during  the  cam- 
paign at  Lake  Providence  and  elsewhere,  and  I  have 
not  been  able  to  make  General  R.'s  acquaintance. 

The  third  division  of  the  Seventeenth  Corps  was 
commanded  during  the  first  of  the  siege  by  General 
Quinby.  This  officer  was  also  sick  and,  I  dare  say, 
did  not  do  justice  to  himself.  A  good  commander 
of  a  division  he  is  not,  though  he  is  a  most  excellent 
and  estimable  man,  and  seemed  to  be  regarded  by  the 
soldiers  with  much  affection.  But  he  lacks  order, 
system,  command,  and  is  the  very  opposite  of  his 
successor,  General  John  E.  Smith,  who  with  much 


less  intellect  than  Quinby  has  a  great  deal  better 
sense,  with  a  firmness  of  character,  a  steadiness  of 
hand,  and  a  freedom  from  personal  irritability  and 
jealousy  which  must  soon  produce  the  happiest 
effect  upon  the  division.  Smith  combines  with  these 
natural  qualities  of  a  soldier  and  commander  a  con- 
scientious devotion,  not  merely  to  the  doing,  but  also 
to  the  learning  of  his  duty,  which  renders  him  a 
better  and  better  general  every  day.  He  is  also  fit 
to  be  intrusted  with  any  independent  command 
where  judgment  and  discretion  are  as  necessary  as 
courage  and  activity,  for  in  him  all  these  qualities 
seem  to  be  happily  blended  and  balanced. 

Of  General  Matthies,  who  commands  the  brigade 
in  this  division  so  long  and  so  gallantly  commanded 
by  the  late  Colonel  Boomer,  I  hear  the  best  accounts, 
but  do  not  know  him  personally.  The  medical  in- 
spector tells  me  that  no  camps  in  the  lines  are  kept 
in  so  good  condition  as  his,  and  General  Sherman, 
under  whom  he  lately  served,  speaks  of  him  as  a 
very  valuable  officer.  The  second  brigade  is  com- 
manded by  Colonel  Sanborn,  a  steady,  mediocre 
sort  of  man  ;  the  third  by  Colonel  Holmes,  whom  I 
don't  know  personally,  but  who  made  a  noble  fight 
at  Champion's  Hill  and  saved  our  center  there  from 
being  broken. 

General  Herron's  division  is  the  newest  addition  to 
the  forces  under  Grant,  except  the  Ninth  Corps,  of 
which  I  know  nothing  except  that  its  discipline  and 
organization  exceed  those  of  the  Western  troops. 
Herron  is  a  driving,  energetic  sort  of  young  fellow, 
not  deficient  either  in  self-esteem  or  in  common 
sense,  and,  as  I  judge,  hardly  destined  to  distinctions 
higher  than  those  he  has  already  acquired.  Of  his 
two  brigadiers,  Vandever  has  not  proved  himself  of 
much  account  during  the  siege  ;  Orme  I  have  seen, 
but  do  not  know.  Herron  has  shown  a  great  deal 
more  both  of  capacity  and  force  than  either  of  them. 
But  he  has  not  the  first  great  requisite  of  a  soldier, 
obedience  to  orders,  and  believes  too  much  in  doing 
things  his  own  way.  Thus,  for  ten  days  after  he  had 
taken  his  position,  he  disregarded  the  order  properly 
to  picket  the  bottom  between  the  bluff  and  the  river 
on  his  left.  He  had  made  up  his  own  mind  that 
nobody  could  get  out  of  the  town  by  that  way,  and 
accordingly  neglected  to  have  the  place  thoroughly 
examined  in  order  to  render  the  matter  clear  and 
certain.  Presently  Grant  discovered  that  men  from 
the  town  were  making  their  escape  through  that  bot- 
tom, and  then  a  more  peremptory  command  to  Herron 
set  the  matter  right  by  the  establishment  of  the  neces- 
sary pickets. 

I  must  not  omit  a  general  who  formerly  commanded 
a  brigade  in  Logan  s  division  and  has  for  some  time 
been  detached  to  a  separate  command  at  Milliken's 
Bend.  I  mean  General  Dennis.  He  is  a  hard- 
headed,  hard-working,  conscientious  man,  who  never 
knows  when  he  is  beaten,  and  consequently  is  very 
hard  to  beat.  He  is  not  brilliant,  but  safe,  sound, 
and  trustworthy.  His  predecessor  in  that  command, 
General  Sullivan,  has  for  some  time  been  at  Grant's 
headquarters,  doing  nothing  with  more  energy  and 
effect  than  he  would  be  likely  to  show  in  any  other 
line  of  duty.  He  is  a  gentlemanly  fellow,  intelli- 
gent, a  charming  companion,  but  heavy,  jovial,  and 
lazy. 

I  might  write  another  letter  on  the  staff  officers 
and  staff  organization  of  Grant's  army,  should  you 
desire  it.  Yours  faithfully, 

C.  A.  Dana. 

Mr.  Stanton. 


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THE    INCIDENT    OF    THE    BRITISH    AMBASSADOR. 


By  Bliss  Perry, 
Author  of  "  Tfce  Broughton  House/*  "  Salem  Kittredge  and  Other  Stories,"  etc. 


WITH  certain  aspects  of  the  famous 
incident  that  brought  England  and 
the  United  States  to  the  very  verge  of  war 
in  the  closing  year  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, the  public  is  already  familiar.  The 
cooler  heads,  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic, 
had  long  perceived  that  a  crisis  was  ap- 
proaching. Our  new  policy  of  territorial 
expansion,  the  attitude  of  the  Administra- 
tion toward  Hawaii,  the  correspondence 
with  Germany  over  her  interference  with 
South  American  republics,  had  all  tended 
to  inflame  international  jealousies.  The 
discovery  of  gold  in  Alaska,  two  years  be- 
fore, had  aroused  the  old  question  of  the 
northwest  boundary,  and  our  irritation 
against  Great  Britain  was  greatly  increased 
by  that  unlucky  after-dinner  speech  of 
Lord  Rawlins,  the  British  Ambassador,  on 
the  subject  of  seals.  Americans  were 
thoroughly  angered,  and  though  it  was 
shown  the  next  day  that  his  lordship  had 
been  misreported,  there  were  newspapers 
from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other 
that  openly  talked  war.  England  at  first 
refused  to  believe  that  the  United  States 
was  seriously  bent  upon  hostilities,  but  day 
by  day  the  outlook  grew  more  ominous, 
until  at  last  she  was  startled  by  the  intel- 
ligence cabled  from  New  York  early  one 
October  morning,  that  the  British  Ambas- 
sador had  been  subjected  to  gross  personal 
indignity  during  a  visit  to  one  of  the  fore- 
most American  universities.  What  ensued 
is  well  known,  but  very  few  have  known 
hitherto  the  real  cause  of  that  dangerous 
and  almost  fatal  imbroglio. 

It  began  in  the  office  of  the  New  York 
"  Orbit."  The  managing  editor,  standing 
at  a  desk  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  and  dashing 
his  pencil  across  some  verbose  "copy," 
had  said  irritably,  without  looking  up, 
"  Did  you  get  that  story,  Andrews  ? " 

"  No,"  replied  dejectedly  the  tall  young 
fellow  at  his  elbow.  "  I  went  way  over 
there,  but  she  was  another  sort  of  woman 
altogether.    I  judged  that  it  wouldn't  do." 

"You  judged  it  wouldn't  do!"  burst 
out  the  "old  man."  He  was  doing  the 
city,  night  editor's  work  for  him,  and  was 
out  of  temper  already.     "  'The  Orbit' 


doesn't  want  your  judgment;  it  wants  the 
news.  Your  week  is  up  Friday,  Andrews, 
and  then  you  can  walk.  You  came  here 
with  a  reputation  as  a  hustler,  and  you're 
no  good,  except  on  that  football  column. 
We  want  men  who  can  gather  news. 
See?" 

41  Suppose  there  isn't  any?"  said  An- 
drews, sulkily. 

11  Then,  blank  it,  make  news!  " 

The  editor  snatched  at  a  handful  of 
Associated  Press  despatches,  and  forgot 
the  new  reporter  utterly.  The  latter 
turned  away  with  a  rather  pitiable  effort 
at  nonchalance,  and  walked  down  the 
room  between  the  long  rows  of  desks. 
The  electric  lights  wavered  everywhere  be- 
fore his  eyes.     He  felt  a  trifle  sick. 

For  two  years,  ever  since  he  began  to 
serve  as  college  correspondent  for  "The 
Orbit,"  it  had  been  his  ambition  to  secure 
a  position  upon  its  staff.  They  had  liked 
the  stuff  he  sent  them,  and  in  the  foot- 
ball and  baseball  seasons  he  had  cleared 
enough  from  "  The  Orbit"  to  pay  all  his 
college  expenses.  And  now,  in  the  Octo- 
ber after  graduation,  to  lose  the  post  he 
had  so  long  desired  simply  because  he 
failed  to  furnish  a  sensation  where  there 
was  obviously  no  sensation  at  all!  It 
made  him  feel  that  a  livelihood  was  a  ter- 
ribly insecure  matter.  To  think  that  he, 
Jerry  Andrews,  a  great  man  in  his  univer- 
sity only  four  months  before,  should  be 
dismissed  like  a  scrub-woman  ! 

He  trudged  uptown  to  his  boarding- 
house,  to  save  car  fare,  and  his  bedtime 
pipe  was  a  gloomy  one.  Thanks  to  superb 
health  and  a  naturally  reckless  temper, 
however,  he  slept  like  a  schoolboy,  and  it 
was  only  after  his  late  breakfast  that  the 
gravity  of  his  situation  forced  itself  upon 
him.  There  were  but  two  days  in  which 
to  retrieve  himself  with  "The  Orbit." 
He  reported  at  the  office  an  hour  earlier 
than  usual,  but  there  was  nothing  assigned 
to  him.  He  consulted  a  half-dozen  of  his 
fellow  reporters,  but  though  they  swore 
sympathetically  at  the  "old  man,"  they 
had  no  suggestions  as  to  space  work,  which 
seemed  his  only  resource. 

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1 66 


THE  INCIDENT  OF   THE  BRITISH  AMBASSADOR. 


By  two  o'clock  he  felt  that  he  was  losing 
his  nerve.  That  reminded  him  of  the  repu- 
tation for  nerve  which  he  had  enjoyed  as 
an  undergraduate,  and  this  in  turn  sug- 
gested the  scheme  of  running  out  to  the 
old  place  on  the  two-thirty,  taking  a  look 
at  the  team,  and  perhaps  coaching  it  a 
little,  and  at  any  rate  getting  enough 
football  gossip  to  make  a  half-column  for 
"  The  Orbit "  the  next  morning. 

His  spirits  rose  the  instant  he  boarded 
the  train.  The  brakeman  nodded  to  him, 
and  the  conductor  thoughtfully  neglected 
to  notice  that  the  date  upon  his  pass — a 
perquisite  of  the  managing  editor  of  the 
college  daily — had  expired  the  preceding 
June.  Whatever  might  be  his  fate  in  New 
York,  Jerry  Andrews  was  a  hero  still  in 
his  old  haunts,  and  it  thrilled  him  to  recog- 
nize it  once  more. 

As  the  train  slowed  up  at  the  dear  old 
station,  he  was  already  upon  the  steps  of 
the  car,  his  cap  on  the  back  of  his  head, 
his  eyes  shining  with  pleasure.  Of  the 
four  or  five  hundred  undergraduates  who, 
to  his  surprise,  were  crowded  upon  the 
platform,  only  the  freshmen  failed  to  rec- 
ognize him. 

"D'ye  see  that  man?"  said  a  kindly 
disposed  junior  to  one  of  these  last,  as 
Andrews  swung  himself  from  the  steps. 
"That's  Jerry  Andrews  of  Ninety-Blank: 
the  tall  stoop-shouldered  fellow  with  a 
Roman  nose.  Doesn't  look  much  like  an 
athlete,  does  he  ?  He's  the  best  all-round 
man  we  ever  had,  though.  Cool!  why, 
he  used  to  go  to  sleep  on  the  way  up  to 
the  big  games!  And,  oh!  how  he  can  do 
a  song-and-dance,  and  you  ought  to  see 
him  run  a  mass-meeting!  He's  coming 
this  way.     Oh,  hullo,  Jerry!  " 

"  What's  up  ? "  said  Andrews  to  a  dozen 
admirers  at  once,  while  the  football  cap- 
tain was  shouldering  his  way  toward  him 
through  the  crowd  to  secure  him  for  the 
coaching  and  the  freshmen  stared. 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  Why,  Lord  Cuthbert 
Rawlins  is  coming  on  the  next  train  to 
visit  Tommy." 

"  The  British  Ambassador  ?  " 

"Sure.  Tommy  met  him  at  Newport, 
and  asked  him  to  visit  Ossian,  and 
we're  here  to  see  Tommy  do  the  interna- 
tional act.  He's  sitting  over  in  his  car- 
riage now,  rattled  already.  Oh,  it'll  be 
great!  " 

Andrews  grinned.  He  had  given  the 
President  of  the  University  many  an  un- 
comfortable quarter  of  an  hour,  in  his 
day,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  Tommy,  as- 
sisted by  an  admiring  faculty,  had  more 


than  once  made  matters  rather  unpleasant 
for  Jerry  Andrews. 

"  And  what  do  you  suppose  the  alumni 
will  say?"  cried  a  shrill,  familiar  voice 
near  him,  in  the  center  of  a  pushing  mob 
of  undergraduates.  It  was  Kilpatrick 
Tiernan,  Ossian 's  celebrated  short-stop, 
out  of  training  in  the  autumn  months  and 
making  the  most  of  his  privileges.  "  Oh, 
what  will  the  alumni  say,"  he  pleaded, 
waving  his  pipe  pathetically  around  his 
ears,  "  when  they  learn  that  you  fellows 
have  given  the  Ossian  yell  for  Lord  Cuth- 
bert Rawlins?"  He  prolonged  the  three 
final  words  with  masterly  irony.  "  He 
has  publicly  insulted  this  country,  only 
last  week,  and  to  give  him  the  Ossian  yell 
— the  Ossian  yell,  think  of  it! — is  a  dis- 
grace to  every  true-born  American!  " 

"  Right  you  are,  Patsy!  "  cried  a  class- 
mate encouragingly.  Most  of  the  crowd 
laughed. 

"Oh,  you  can  laugh,"  put  in  Patsy 
commiseratingly,  "  but  when  the  iron  heel 
of  England  is  once  more  upon  your 
necks,  you'll  wish  you  had  hissed,  as  I'm 
going  to!     Patriots,  this  way!  " 

But  the  Washington  train  whistled  at 
the  crossing,  and  Tiernan's  impassioned 
appeal  failed  to  hold  his  audience.  There 
was  a  general  scramble  for  the  front  of 
the  platform,  and  in  the  melee  the  short- 
stop managed,  to  his  huge  satisfaction,  to 
have  some  one  push  him  violently  against 
Tommy,  who  received  his  profuse  apolo- 
gies with  a  suavity  as  artistic,  in  its  way, 
as  Tiernan's  rudeness.  There  was  a  back- 
ward sway  of  the  struggling  mass  as  the 
train  darkened  the  platform. 

"There  he  is,"  whispered  a  hundred 
students  at  once  as  a  stately,  eagle-nosed 
gentleman  with  white  side-whiskers  ap- 
peared at  the  door  of  the  Pullman  car. 
At  that  moment  he  was  the  most  hated 
man  in  America,  partly  because  of  the  ar- 
rogant frankness  with  which  he  had  appar- 
ently played  his  diplomatic  game  through- 
out, partly  because  of  that  unlucky  misre- 
ported  speech  about  the  seals,  but  largely, 
in  reality,  because  circumstances  had 
placed  him  in  a  delicate  position,  where  he 
could  make  no  explanations  without  be- 
traying the  fact — which  every  one  recog- 
nizes now — that  the  game  he  seemed  to  be 
playing  was  not  the  real  one,  and  that 
Germany,  and  not  the  United  States,  was 
the  object  of  England's  inexplicable  moves 
upon  the  international  chess-board.  He 
gazed  at  the  crowd  quietly,  but  with  some 
amused  curiosity  upon  his  face.  It  was 
his  first  sight  of  American  undergraduates. 


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BLISS  PERRY. 


167 


"By  Jupiter,  Jerry,"  whispered  the  foot- 
ball captain  to  Andrews,  "  he  looks  enough 
like  you  to  be  your  father." 

"Thank  you  for  nothing,"  said  An- 
drews, and  at  the  same  moment  he  reached 
across  the  shoulders  of  three  or  four  men 
and  tapped  the  regular  college  correspond- 
ent of  "The  Orbit." 

"  I'm  down  as  a  '  special,'  Richmond," 
he  said,  with  a  smile  that  would  have 
persuaded  more  obstinate  fellows  than  the 
junior  he  was  addressing;  "  I  want  you  to 
let  me  have  this. ' '  His  voice  was  drowned 
by  the  college  yell,  which  some  irresponsi- 
ble fellow  proposed,  in  defiance  of  Patsy 
Tiernan,  and  which  the  Ossian  boys  made 
it  a  point  of  honor  to  give  well,  whoever 
started  it.  But  as  a  whole  the  crowd 
was  ready  for  mischief,  and  a  few  men 
were  crying  "  Seals!  Seals!  "  as  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  University  made  his  way  to 
the  steps  of  the  car.  He  was  terribly  anx- 
ious at  bottom  for  the  conduct  of  his  boys, 
knowing  their  capacity  for  spontaneous 
deviltry  and  the  sudden  unpopularity  of 
Lord  Rawlins,  but  he  wore  his  jauntiest 
manner  on  the  surface  and  the  elaborate- 
ness of  his  greeting  to  his  guest  caught 
the  mercurial  fancy  of  the  crowd. 

"Give  'em  the  long  yell,"  screamed 
some  one,  and  the  favorite  long  yell  was 
given,  on  general  principles.  Tommy 
smiled  with  gratitude  as  he  escorted  the 
Ambassador  down  the  shifting  lane  of 
under-graduates  to  his  carriage. 

"Speech!  Speech!"  shouted  a  hun- 
dred voices,  but  the  President  shook  his 
head  ceremoniously,  and  pretended  not  to 
hear  the  cries  of  "Seals!  Seals!" 
••  Burn  him  in  effigy!  "  which  Kilpatrick 
Tiernan  was  hoarsely  raising  in  the  rear 
of  the  crowd,  to  the  joy  of  the  hackmen 
and  the  dismay  of  the  more  seriously  in- 
clined. The  carriage  door  closed  sharply, 
and  the  "international  act"  was  appar- 
ently over. 

"That's  good  for  a  column,"  thought 
Andrews  to  himself,  as  the  football  cap- 
tain marched  him  off  to  the  field,  follow- 
ing the  drifting  crowd.  "  And  I  wonder  if 
the  'old  man'  wouldn't  like  me  to  try 
for  an  interview  with  Lord  Rawlins  ? 
Even  a  fake  interview  might  be  better  than 
nothing." 

But  his  reportorial  duties  were  forgotten 
the  instant  he  reached  the  field  and  donned 
a  sweater.  For  a  long  happy  hour  he 
coached  the  new  half-back  in  particular 
and  the  rest  of  the  team  in  general,  while 
about  half  the  university  crowded  over 
the  side  lines  and  called  it  the  snappiest 


practice  of  the  year.  Then  he  got  his 
bath,  and  a  rub  down  from  the  affection- 
ate hands  of  his  old  trainer,  and  it  was 
nearly  six  when  he  reached  the  campus 
again.  He  had  declined  the  training-table 
dinner  and  a  half-dozen  other  invitations, 
in  the  hope  of  catching  the  British  Ambas- 
sador at  Tommy's,  for  the  moment  the 
excitement  of  coaching  was  over  his  un- 
easiness at  his  status  with  "The  Orbit" 
came  back  again.  One  lucky  stroke 
might  make  his  fortune  with  the  "old 
man  "  yet. 

As  he  cut  across  the  lawn  toward  the 
President's  house  the  older  members  of 
the  faculty,  frock-coated  and  gloved, 
were  coming  away  in  solemn,  awkward 
couples.  That  meant  a  reception,  and  it 
was  probably  just  over.  Lester,  Tommy's 
man-of-all-work,  was  on  duty  at  the  door. 
Many  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  had  he  taken 
from  Jerry  Andrews,  in  return  for  items  of 
interest  to  the  readers  of  "The  Orbit," 
but  he  shook  his  head  with  great  impor- 
tance when  Jerry  asked  if  there  was  any 
chance  of  getting  Lord  Rawlins's  ear  for  a 
moment. 

"Senator  Martin  is  going  to  entertain 
his  lordship  at  Belmartin,  at  dinner,"  Les- 
ter volunteered,  nodding  toward  a  United 
States  senator  who  was  pacing  the  great 
hallway.  "  They'll  be  driving  over  right 
away." 

It  was  a  dozen  miles  to  the  Senator's 
famous  stock-farm,  and  his  dinners  were 
even  more  celebrated  than  his  brood 
mares. 

"  Then  Lord  Rawlins  won't  be  back  till 
late,  I  suppose,"  hazarded  Andrews. 

"No,  sir." 

Now,  if  Andrews  had  been  a  little  longer 
in  the  profession,  he  would  have  bagged 
the  Ambassador  then  and  there,  and  a  sen- 
ator into  the  bargain;  but  as  it  was  he 
suffered  Lester  to  close  the  door  behind 
him,  and  he  was  half-way  across  the  cam- 
pus before  he  realized  his  mistake.  He 
hesitated  and  turned  back,  but  at  that  in- 
stant the  Senator's  carriage  drove  up  to 
Tommy's  door  and  Lord  Rawlins  entered 
it.     He  had  lost  his  chance. 

Ruefully  he  turned  toward  the  telegraph 
office,  to  send  his  story  of  Lord  Rawlins's 
arrival  at  the  Ossian  station  that  after- 
noon. It  was  something,  of  course,  but 
the  situation  had  promised  something  bet- 
ter yet,  if  he  had  not  been  so  stupid.  He 
stopped  suddenly,  his  hands  deep  in  his 
trousers  pockets,  his  eyes  glued  to  the 
ground,  a  queer  look  upon  his  face.  Was 
it   a   chance  remark  made  to  him  at  the 


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THE  INCIDENT  OF   THE  BRITISH  AMBASSADOR. 


station,  or  the  subtle  influence  of  the  old 
campus, — the  campus  where  he  had  a 
crowd  of  worshipers,  where  he  was  safe, 
as  in  a  sort  of  Alsatia,  from  outside  inter- 
ference, and  where,  as  a  graduate  now,  he 
was  beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  the  faculty  ? 
Was  it  a  journalistic  instinct,  or  simply 
the  real  devil-may-care  Jerry  Andrews-ism 
flashing  out  once  more  ?  At  any  rate,  if 
the  arch-imp  himself  had  prompted  the 
scheme,  no  finer  instrument  for  its  accom- 
plishment could  have  been  devised  than 
Kjlpatrick  Tiernan,  who  with  a  couple  of 
satellites  was  leisurely  crossing  the-cam- 
pus  on  his  way  to  dinner  when  he  caught 
sight  of  his  old  crony  Jerry  Andrews, 
standing  there  with  his  hands  in  his  pock- 
ets and  that  peculiar  inventive  smile  upon 
his  handsome  face. 

It  was  rumored  upon  the  campus,  di- 
rectly after  dinner,  that  the  undergradu- 
ate body  was  to  serenade  Lord  Rawlins  at 
the  President's  at  eight  o'clock.  Some 
men  even  reported  that  Tommy  had  spe- 
cially requested  that  tribute  to  his  guest, 
though  this  was  doubted  by  the  more  as- 
tute, who  knew  Tommy's  general  aversion 
to  student  mobs,  even  though  they  did  not 
know  that  he  had  actually  accepted  Sen- 
ator Martin's  invitation  on  purpose  to 
avoid  this  particular  one.  Debate  ran 
high  until  Kilpatrick  Tiernan  offered  to 
ascertain  Tommy's  wishes  in  person  ;  and 
leaving  his  unruly  escort  at  the  gate,  he 
decorously  rang  the  President's  bell.  His 
followers  could  not  hear  his  conversation 
with  Lester,  but  this  was  his  report,  deliv- 
ered from  the  top  of  the  gate  post  : 

"  Fellows,  Lord  Rawlins  is  dining  now, 
and  Tommy  doesn't  wish  him  disturbed." 
(Groans.)  "  But  he  understands  that  there 
is  to  be  a  bonfire  on  the  campus  to-night, 
to  celebrate  Saturday's  game,  and  he  will 
bring  Lord  Rawlins  over,  to  show  him  a 
characteristic  Ossian  scene."  (Rapturous 
applause.)  "  Now  every  one  give  a  long 
yell  for  the  characteristic  scene!  " 

But  before  the  cheer  had  subsided,  Tier- 
nan himself,  to  the  amazement  of  most  of 
his  friends,  had  managed  to  escape  from 
view.  He  did  not  reappear  for  half  an 
hour.  By  that  time  the  bonfire,  prepared 
the  preceding  Saturday,  but  postponed  be- 
cause of  rain,  was  blazing  merrily,  and 
nearly  a  thousand  undergraduates  were 
singing,  cheering,  and  skylarking  around 
it.  The  pet  soloist  of  the  glee  club  gave 
his  newest  song,  the  football  captain  made 
a  speech,  followed  by  the  manager  and 
the  bow-legged  guard  who  had  made  the 


touch-down;  one  or  two  alumni  who  hap- 
pened to  be  in  town  exhorted  the  under- 
graduates to  uphold  the  ancient  traditions 
of  Ossian ;  and  there  were  calls  from  every 
side  for  "  Andrews,  Ninety-Blank!  "  But 
Andrews,  Ninety-Blank,  the  genius  of  so 
many  scenes  like  this,  could  not  be  discov- 
ered, and  after  another  song,  a  group  of 
seniors  demanded  in  concert: 

' '  We-want- Patsy-  Tiernan  /  We  -  want- 
Patsy- Tiernan!" 

The  crowd  clapped,  and  Tiernan,  who 
had  just  made  his  way  into  the  circle,  took 
off  his  cap  and  faced  the  firelight.  He 
was  the  idol  of  the  baser  sort,  and  the 
spoiled  child  of  the  others. 

"Fellows,"  he  began  impressively, 
"Lord-Cuthbert-Rawlins  has  said" — he 
paused  in  the  long  upward  drawl  for  mock 
emphasis — "I  repeat,  Lord-Cuthbert- 
Rawlins  has  said" — and  he  quoted  the 
most  unfortunate  of  those  sentences  that 
the  reporters  had  put  into  his  lordship's 
mouth  a  week  before. 

A  growl,  topped  by  hisses,  ran  around 
the  loop  of  firelit  faces.  The  orator  raised 
his  hand  majestically.  "  I  would  not  for 
the  world  arouse  your  righteous  wrath." 
A  chorus  of  whistles  and  approving  howls 
greeted  this  pious  declaration.  "  No,  not 
for  both  worlds!  "  Patsy  added,  in  a  deep 
bathos  that  convulsed  his  intimates  and 
thrilled  the  under-classmen.  "  But  Lord 
Rawlins  comes  to-night  to  visit  us  upon 
this  historic  ground."  (Cheers.)  "I 
would  suggest  no  indecorum"  (this  with 
a  long,  leering  pause);  "but  shall  his 
slur  upon  America's  fair  name  go  unchal- 
lenged here  ?  What  say  you,  sons  of  old 
Ossian?" 

There  was  a  smashing  chorus  of  big- 
lunged  exclamations,  and  some  sophomores 
craftily  tossed  a  couple  of  cannon-crack- 
ers into  the  freshman  segment  of  the 
great  circle. 

"Silence!-"  shrieked  Tiernan.  "Si- 
lence, Americans!  Shall  a  British  envoy 
stand  upon  our  campus  and  repeat  his 
insults  to  our  face  ?     I  pause  for  a  reply." 

He  scanned  the  outskirts  of  the  audi- 
ence, as  if  in  reality  awaiting  a  response. 
At  that  moment,  from  the  rear  of  the 
crowd,  came  a  shrill  cat-call.  The  orator 
rose  to  his  fullest  height,  and  whirled 
around  with  outstretched  finger  and  gleam- 
ing eyes.  "  Fellows!  "  he  hissed  melodra- 
matically, ' '  there  is  Lord  Rawlins  now  / ' ' 

On  the  steps  of  the  dormitory  nearest 
the  President's  house  stood  a  tall,  Roman- 
nosed,  white-side-whiskered  personage  in 
evening  dress,  blinking  benignantly  at  the 


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BLISS  PERRY. 


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scene  before  him.  He  must  have  heard 
every  word  of  Tiernan's  speech,  but  he 
smiled  down  in  superior  fashion  at  the 
crowd  that  swept  toward  him  so  tumultu- 
ously.  A  few  hisses  were  mingled  with 
the  applause  that  greeted  him,  but  there 
were  many  in  the  throng  who  evidently 
felt  that  Tiernan  had  gone  too  far  and 
were  desirous  of  maintaining  Ossian's  rep- 
utation for  impartial  hospitality.  But 
friends  and  foes  united  in  a  trampling 
chorus  of  "  Speech  /  Speech  I  We  want  a 
speech  I ' ' 

The  British  Ambassador  drew  a  monocle 
from  his  waistcoat  pocket,  adjusted  it  leis- 
urely, hemmed  two  or  three  times,  and 
then,  in  an  odd,  falsetto  voice  that  sharp- 
ened every  word  and  sent  it  uncomfortably 
home,  delivered  himself  of  a  most  singu- 
lar speech  indeed.  It  was  an  explana- 
tion, he  declared,  of  the  misapprehensions 
under  which  his  young  friend  who  had  just 
addressed  this  audience  was  evidently  la- 
boring, and  he  proceeded  to  tell  what  he 
had  really  meant  to  say  at  that  historic 
dinner  the  week  before.  But  his  explana- 
tion made  matters  infinitely  worse;  at 
every  turn  he  let  slip  phrases  that  betrayed 
his  contempt  for  the  United  States;  it 
would  have  been  absurd,  if  it  had  not  been 
so  outrageous,  to  listen  to  those  supercili- 
ous sentences,  delivered  in  a  style  that 
out-heroded  even  the  check-suited  Eng- 
lishman of  the  variety  stage.  At  first  the 
crowd  had  been  decorous  enough,  but 
from  moment  to  moment  it  was  obviously 
escaping  from  the  control  of  the  sober- 
minded,  and  soon  it  became  openly  deri- 
sive. The  Ambassador  now  seemed  to 
lose  his  temper  likewise,  and  his  maladroit 
compliments  turned  into  thinly  disguised 
vituperation.  His  audience  became  a 
surging  mob.  In  vain  did  Lord  Rawlins 
wave  his  angular  arms,  or  strike  attitudes 
of  defiant,  monocled  patience. 

When  Patsy  Tiernan  yelled  "  Down  with 
him!  "  the  spark  touched  the  powder.  A 
dozen  hot-heads  actually  rushed  the  steps 
and  laid  hands  upon  Her  Majesty's  accred- 
ited representative. 

Then  came  the  worst  of  all.  "The 
rail!  The  rail!  Where's  the  Lincoln 
rail  ?  "  shouted  Tiernan,  as  if  beside  him- 
self with  fury.  Forth  from  its  resting- 
place  in  one  of  the  dormitories  was 
dragged  that  precious  relic  of  the  i860 
Presidential  campaign:  a  fence-rail  reputed 
to  have  been  split  by  the  hands  of  the 
martyr  President. 

44  Put  him  on  a  sealskin!  "  yelled  some 
one. 


44  Oh,  ride  him  on  a  sealskin,  sure 
enough  ! " 

As  if  by  magic  a  skin  rug,  snatched 
from  somebody's  floor,  was  tossed  over 
the  sharp  corners  of  the  rail.  Twenty 
reckless  satellites  of  Patsy  Tiernan  lifted 
the  Ambassador  from  his  feet.  He  made 
the  best  of  an  unspeakably  bad  matter, 
shrugged  his  aristocratic  shoulders,  and 
flung  his  leg  over  the  rail.  It  was  hoisted 
to  the  shoulders  of  the  maddened  young 
patriots,  and  three  times  did  the  frantic 
procession  circle  the  huge  bonfire,  amid 
the  rapturous  cheers  of  half  the  university 
and  the  silent  apprehensions  or  awe- 
stricken  exclamations  of  the  other  half. 
Then  it  vanished  toward  Tommy's  house, 
just  as  the  university  proctor  had  fought 
his  way  to  within  a  hand's  grasp  of  the 
rail. 

At  this  instant  one  of  the  very  knowing 
freshmen  nudged  a  classmate  and  whis- 
pered, 44  Ain't  you  on  to  it,  Atkins?  I 
am.  Those  upper-classmen  are  trying 
to  play  horse  with  us.  That  ain't  Lord 
Rawlins  at  all.  That's  Andrews,  Ninety- 
Blank!" 

On  the  other  side  of  the  bonfire,  at  the 
same  moment,  an  idea  suggested  itself  to 
a  sallow  youth  with  glasses.  He  edged 
away  circumspectly,  and  then  dashed  off 
to  the  telegraph  office. 

41  This  will  be  hot  stuff  for  *  The  Enter- 
prise,' "  he  murmured,  and  he  glanced  over 
his  shoulder  as  he  ran,  to  make  sure  that 
41  The  Unspeakable's  "  correspondent  had 
not  taken  a  hint  from  his  own  departure. 
It  was  9.20.  The  Ossian  office  closed  at 
9.30  unless  there  were  despatches  waiting 
to  be  sent;  and  the  heart  of  "  The  Enter- 
prise "  correspondent  was  tuneful  as  he 
discovered  that  there  was  nobody  ahead  of 
him  and  that  the  operator  was  still  at  his 
desk. 

He  scribbled  the  first  sheet  of  his  story, 
and  pushed  it  under  the  wire  screen  to- 
ward the  operator. 

44  Here,  Fred,"  said  he,  "  I  want  you  to 
rush  this.  I'll  have  some  more  ready  in  a 
minute,  and  to-night  I'll  try  to  keep  ahead 
of  you."  He  laughed  gleefully  at  the 
thought  of  his  beat. 

But  the  operator  shook  his  head,  with- 
out so  much  as  glancing  at  him.  "  You'll 
have  to  wait,"  he  remarked.  "  Mr.  An- 
drews has  the  wire  just  now;"  and  he 
clicked  away  with  irritating  composure. 
A  five-dollar  bill  reposing  just  then  in  his 
trousers  pocket  may  have  aided  his  philos- 
ophy. He  was  telegraphing  page  after 
page  of  the  University  Catalogue,  in  order 


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THE  INCIDENT  OF   THE  BRITISH  AMBASSADOR. 


to  hold  the  wire,  while  the  editor  of  "  The 
Orbit,"  opening  his  eyes  as  sheet  after 
sheet  of  that  valuable  matter  was  brought 
him,  perceived  a  journalistic  feat,  and 
hazarded  the  opinion  that  perhaps  young 
Andrews  was  not  after  all  an  irremediable 
fool. 

Meantime  the  "  Enterprise"  man  paced 
the  office  anxiously,  and  before  long 
"The  Unspeakable's  "  correspondent 
came  panting  iji.  The  latter's  face  fell 
as  he  recognized  his  rival. 

"How  long'll  I  have  to  wait,  Fred?" 
he  demanded. 

"  No  idea,"  said  Fred,  looking  up  from 
the  catalogue  with  a  yawn.  He  seemed 
mightily  indifferent. 

Just  then  Andrews,  Ninety-Blank,  saun- 
tered into  the  office,  a  bit  of  lamb's  wool 
still  sticking  to  his  cheek  and  the  powder 
only  half  out  of  his  hair.  He  nodded 
cordially  to  the  correspondents,  and 
marched  straight  around  to  the  inner  en- 
closure, where  he  seated  himself  comfort- 
ably by  the  operator,  and  began  to  sharpen 
a  lead  pencil. 

"  Could  you  tell  me  how  soon  you'll  be 
through,  Mr.  Andrews?"  ventured  the 
"Enterprise"  youth.  He  was  only  a 
sophomore;  last  year  a  nod  from  Jerry 
Andrews  would  have  made  him  supremely 
happy. 

"  Possibly  by  twelve,"  replied  Andrews 
courteously,  "but  I  wouldn't  like  to 
promise." 

"  I  suppose  not!  "  said  the  sophomore, 
in  dignified  irony,  and  he  strolled  to  the 
door  with  as  much  indifference  as  he  could 
assume.  "  The  Enterprise  "  went  to  press 
at  midnight.  The  only  other  telegraph 
office  within  possible  reach,  at  that  hour, 
was  ten  miles  away.  If  he  had  a  wheel, 
though,  he  might  make  it  in  time,  and  pre- 
vent "The  Orbit's"  beat.  And  behold, 
there  was  "  The  Unspeakable's  "  fellow's 
wheel  at  the  very  curbstone,  with  even 
the  lantern  lighted.  He  took  one  look  at 
the  owner,  who  was  arguing  hotly  with 
Fred,  swung  his  leg  over  the  saddle,  and 
pedaled  off,  under  the  clear  October  star- 
light. 

Five  miles  out  of  town  he  narrowly 
escaped  collision  with  a  closed  carriage, 
in  which  were  seated  the  President  of 
the  University  and  Lord  Cuthbert  Raw- 
lins, driving  homeward  in  great  peaceful- 
ness  of  heart  and  chatting  confidentially, 
as  it  happened,  about  the  unfortunate  an- 
tagonism to  Great  Britain  which  is  some- 
times exhibited  in  uncultivated  American 
society. 


RIOT   AT   OSSIAN. 
RIDDEN  ON  A  RAIL!! 

ABE  LINCOLN  SPLIT  IT;  LORD  RAWLINS 

RODE  IT,  WITH  A  SEALSKIN  SADDLE ! 

BRITISH  AMBASSADOR  LEARNS  THE 

SPIRIT  OF    AMERICAN  COLLEGE  BOYS. 

QUERY:  WILL  THE  LION  ROAR? 

These  were  the  headlines  of  the  "  exclu- 
sive "  intelligence  which  the  New  York 
"Orbit"  spread  before  its  readers  the 
next  morning.  The  beat  was  the  talk  of 
Newspaper  Row,  for  the  scanty  version 
of  the  affair  telegraphed  to  the  "  Enter- 
prise "  from  a  town  ten  miles  away  from 
the  scene  of  the  riot  was  scarcely  worth 
considering  as  news,  though  it  confirmed 
the  most  startling  features  of  the  incident. 
The  other  morning  papers  issued  later 
editions,  embodying  "  The  Orbit's  "  story, 
for  there  was  no  mistaking  the  popular  ex- 
citement, or  the  temper  of  the  crowds 
that  surrounded  the  bulletin  boards. 
Some  were  incredulous,  ready  to  recog- 
nize a  colossal  American  joke,  though  not 
quite  convinced  that  it  was  a  joke.  More 
were  grave,  knowing  the  tension  that 
already  existed  between  the  two  countries, 
and  that  the  slightest  strain  might  cause 
irrevocable  disaster. 

The  real  crisis,  however,  was  not  in 
New  York,  as  everybody  knows,  but  in 
London.  The  New  York  correspondent 
of  the  "London  Times"  lost  his  head 
for  once,  and  cabled  "The  Orbit's"  ac- 
count of  the  Ossian  incident  entire.  The 
"Times"  extras  were  flung  upon  the 
streets  shortly  after  two  o'clock.  If  New 
York  had  rocked  like  a  ship  in  a  storm  at 
the  news  of  the  insult  to  Lord  Rawlins, 
London  was  like  the  sea  itself.  American 
securities  went  do%n,  down,  and  out  of 
sight.  But  nobody  cared.  The  Ossian 
incident  had  been  the  lightning  flash  that 
revealed  how  far  apart  the  two  nations  had 
drifted.  Better  war  now  than  another 
week  of  heart-breaking  anxiety.  Let  it 
come! 

When  the  House  of  Commons  convened 
that  afternoon,  the  members  had  to  fight 
their  way  through  a  mob  a  hundred  thou- 
sand strong  that  besieged  the  Palace 
Yard.  The  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs 
was  late  in  taking  his  seat,  and  when  he 
strolled  forward  to  his  place  on  the  gov- 
ernment bench,  his  careless  manner  was 
strangely  at  variance  with  the  drawn  lines 
around  his  mouth  and  his  haggard  eyes. 


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For  three  hours  he  had  been  cabling  to 
Washington  and  to  the  British  consul  at 
New  York  for  confirmation  of  the  news 
about  Lord  Rawlins,  but  beyond  the  bare 
fact  that  the  British  Ambassador  had  gone 
to  Ossian  the  day  before,  no  tidings  of  him 
were  obtainable.  He  had  disappeared 
from  the  sight  of  the  Foreign  Office  as 
completely  as  if  the  rail  split  by  Abe  Lin- 
coln had  borne  him  off  the  planet,  and  the 
Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs  was  in  de- 
spair. 

And  where  was  Lord  Rawlins  ?  He 
was  on  the  golf  links  at  Ossian,  playing 
the  game  of  his  life.  While  the  President 
of  the  University  was  waiting  for  his  dis- 
tinguished guest  to  appear  at  breakfast, 
his  secretary  had  handed  him  "  The 
Orbit."  A  thousand  copies  had  been 
rushed  into  town  by  the  early  train;  every 
student  had  seen  one;  and  four  reporters 
were  already  in  the  front  hall  to  interview 
his  lordship.  In  the  face  of  this  annoy- 
ance, the  result,  no  doubt,  of  the  silliness 
of  some  new  correspondent,  Tommy  ex- 
hibited that  astuteness  in  which  Ossian 
found  a  perpetual  delight.  He  invited 
the  reporters  to  come  again  in  an  hour, 
got  "The  Orbit"  out  of  sight,  and  told 
his  best  stories  at  the  breakfast  table  until 
the  chapel  bell  had  long  stopped  ringing 
for  morning  prayers.  Then  he  looked  at 
his  watch,  declared  it  was  so  late  that  he 
would  abandon  his  intention  of  taking  his 
guest  to  morning  chapel— did  he  not 
know  that  an  ecstatic  crowd  of  collegians 
were  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  British 
envoy! — and  proposed  that  instead  of 
looking  over  the  university  buildings  they 
spend  the  morning  on  the  links.  Lord 
Rawlins  was  a  famous  player,  as  every- 
body knew,  and  Tommy's  son  was  then 
the  holder  of  the  intercollegiate  cham- 
pionship. To  the  links  the  party  drove 
then,  by  a  circuitous  road,  the  wise  Tom- 
my leaving  no  hint  of  their  destination. 
Hour  after  hour,  through  that  long  fore- 
noon, reporters  and  callers  and  telegrams 
and  cablegrams  accumulated  in  the  Presi- 
dent's mansion,  while  ETord  Rawlins,  in 
total  ignorance  of  any  international  excite- 
ment, went  over  the  eighteen-hole  course 
like  a  boy  of  twenty,  leading  the  cham- 
pion by  two  points  all  the  way. 

At  lunch  time,  and  not  before,  he  was 
told  in  Tommy's  inimitable  style  of  the 
newspaper  joke  that  had  been  practiced 
upon  the  public  at  his  expense.  His  lord- 
ship discreetly  chose  to  consider  it  a  deli- 
ciously  characteristic  example  of  American 


humor.  He  even  smiled  at  the  cable- 
grams which  had  been  forwarded  to  him 
from  Washington,  though  his  smile  by 
this  time  was  decidedly  a  diplomatic  one. 
Yet  he  sent  a  semi-jocular  despatch  to  the 
Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  and  then  de- 
voted himself  to  the  excellent  luncheon, 
which  was  attended  by  the  heads  of  the 
departments  of  the  university,  all  eager  to 
atone  for  the  silly  action  of  some  unknown 
correspondent  of  a  sensational  newspaper. 
They  laughed  at  all  of  Lord  Rawlins's 
anecdotes,  and  talked  solemnly  to  him 
about  the  brotherhood  of  educated  men 
on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic. 

And  at  that  very  instant,  making  due 
time  allowance,  the  Minister  of  Foreign 
Affairs,  white-faced  and  sick  at  heart, 
was  trying  to  explain  to  an  angry  House 
that  it  had  been  impossible  to  communi- 
cate directly  with  the  Ambassador  to  the 
United  States,  but  that  there  was  no  rea- 
sonable doubt  that  the  Ossian  incident  was 
largely  exaggerated,  and  that,  in  any  case, 
Her  Majesty's  government  could  be  relied 
on  to  take  such  steps  as  were  necessary  to 
preserve  the  national  honor.  Friendship 
with  the  United  States,  it  was  needless  to 
say,  was  too  important  to  be  Jightly  thrust 
aside,  and  so  forth — and  so  forth. 

It  was  useless.  The  House  would  have 
none  of  his  phrases.  Fifty  members  were 
on  their  feet  at  once,  shouting  and  gesticu- 
lating at  the  Speaker.  A  London  Social- 
ist got  the  floor,  as  it  chanced,  and  threat- 
ened the  Government  with  a  resolution  of 
lack  of  confidence.  It  was  an  ill  wind 
that  would  blow  his  coterie  no  good,  and 
this  was  a  whirlwind.  For  a  moment  it 
looked  as  if  the  Government  was  doomed, 
but  the  leader  of  the  House  got  the  floor 
by  a  trick,  and  in  a  masterly  little  speech 
moved  a  war  budget  of  ten  million  pounds. 
To  that  appeal  to  British  patriotism  there 
could  be  but  one  response.  The  budget  was 
rushed  from  reading  to  reading  without  a 
single  dissenting  voice;  the  alarming  intel- 
ligence was  flashed  to  every  corner  of  the 
wide  world;  and  just  then  the  Minister  of 
Foreign  Affairs  received  his  despatch  from 
Lord  Rawlins,  written  during  lunch  in  the 
dining-room  of  the  President's  mansion  at 
Ossian,  United  States  of  America.  He 
consulted  a  moment  with  his  colleagues, 
and  then  read  it  to  the  House.  It  is  fa- 
mous now,  and,  indeed,  it  is  said  that 
Lord  Rawlins's  present  political  station  is 
due  to  the  singular  popularity  which  that 
despatch  brought  him.  It  ran:  "Rumor 
of  insult  groundless.  Newspaper  joke.  En- 
tire courtesy  everywhere.      Have  just  beaten 


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HYMNS    THAT  HAVE  HELPED. 


American  champion  at  golfy  breaking  all 
American  records" 

The  House  came  down  from  the  sublime 
with  a  bump.  A  pompous  gentleman  of 
the  Opposition  who  began  a  sarcastic 
speech  about  the  American  conception  of 
a  joke  was  laughed  off  his  feet,  as  wave 
after  wave  of  merriment  rolled  heavily 
over  the  surface  of  the  House.  There 
were  cheers  for  Lord  Rawlins,  cheers  for 
the  golf  championship,  cheers  for  Her 
Majesty,  cheers  galore;  and  thus  ended, 
as  far  as  Parliament  was  concerned,  the 
incident  of  the  British  Ambassador. 

When  Jerry  Andrews  reported  for  duty 
that  afternoon,  the  crowd  was  jostling  yet 
around  "The  Orbit's"    bulletin  boards. 


That  enterprising  sheet  was  still  throwing 
off  extra  after  extra  to  exploit  its  journal- 
istic feat,  treating  the  whole  affair  with 
the  cheerful  cynicism  which  "  The  Orbit  " 
prided  itself  upon  maintaining  in  every 
exigency.  Its  editor  leaned  on  his  elbows 
blandly  as  Jerry  walked  up  to  his  desk. 

"You  found  some  news  over  there,  I 
judge,"  he  remarked. 

"  Or  made  some,"  replied  Andrews  de- 
murely, catching  his  eye. 

"Humph!"  said  the  editor  with  Del- 
phic ambiguity;  but  for  the  first  time  in 
the  traditions  of  the  paper,  he  offered  the 
reporter  a  cigar.  That  cigar  is  hanging 
over  Mr.  Andrews's  desk,  in  the  "  Orbit  " 
office,  at  this  moment. 


HYMNS  THAT  HAVE  HELPED. 

By  \V.  T.  Stead. 

The  following-  hymns,  with  the  accompanying  notes,  are  from  a  collection  made  by  Mr.  W.  T.  Stead,  which  will  be 
published  in  book  form  in  America  by  the  Doubleday  and  McClure  Company.  Mr.  Stead  fathered  the  material  from 
many  sources.  He  asked  of  many  men  and  women  the  question :  **  What  hymns  have  helped  you  ? "  and  received  many 
widely  varying  responses.— Editor. 


LUTHER'S  HYMN. 

A  BATTLE  hymn  indeed  is  this  famous 
hymn  which  Heinrich  Heine  rightly 
describes  as  "  the  Marseillaise  Hymn  of  the 
Reformation."  Luther  composed  it  for 
theDiet  of  Spires,  when, on  April  20th,  1529, 
the  German  Princes  made  their  formal 
protest  against  the  revocation  of  their  lib- 
erties, and  so  became  known  as  Protes- 
tants. In  the  life-and-death  struggle  that 
followed,  it  was  as  a  clarion  summoning 
all  faithful  souls  to  do  battle,  without 
fear,  against  the  insulting  foe.  Luther 
sang  it  to  the  lute  every  day.  It  was  the 
spiritual  and  national  tonic  of  Germany, 
administered  in  those  dolorous  times  as 
doctors  administer  quinine  to  sojourners 
in  fever-haunted  marshes.  Every  one  sang 
it,  old  and  young,  children  in  the  street, 
soldiers  on  the  battle-field.  The  more 
heavily  hit  they  were,  the  more  tenaciously 
did  they  cherish  the  song  that  assured 
them  of  ultimate  victory.  When  Melanc- 
thon  and  his  friends,  after  Luther's  death, 
were  sent  into  banishment,  they  were  mar- 
velously  cheered  as  they  entered  Weimar 
on  hearing  a  girl  sing  Luther's  hymn  in 
the  street.  "  Sing  on,  dear  daughter 
mine,"  said  Melancthon,  "thou  knowest 
not  what  comfort  thou  bringest  to  our 
heart."    Nearly  a  hundred  years  later,  be- 


fore the  great  victory  which  he  gained 
over  the  Catholic  forces  at  Leipsic,  Gus- 
tavus  Adolphus  asked  his  warriors  to  sing 
Luther's  hymn,  and  after  the  victory  he 
thanked  God  that  He  had  made  good  the 
promise,  "  The  field  He  will  maintain  it." 
It  was  sung  at  the  battle  of  Ltitzen.  It 
was  sung  also  many  a  time  and  oft  during 
the  Franco-German  war.  In  fact,  when- 
ever the  depths  of  the  German  heart  are 
really  stirred,  the  sonorous  strains  of 
Luther's  hymn  instinctively  burst  forth. 
M.  Vicomte  de  VoguS,  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  of  contemporary  writers,  in  his 
criticism  of  M.  Zola's  "  Debacle,"  pays  a 
splendid  tribute  to  the  element  in  the 
German  character  which  finds  its  most 
articulate  expression  in  Luther's  noble 
psalm.     .     .     . 

"  He  who  is  so  well  up  in  all  the  points 
of  the  battlefield  of  Sedan  must  surely 
know  what  was  to  be  seen  and  heard  there 
on  the  evening  of  September  1st,  1870.  It 
was  a  picture  to  tempt  his  pen — those  in- 
numerable lines  of  fires  starring  ail  the 
valley  of  the  Meuse,  those  grave  and  sol- 
emn chants  sent  out  into  the  night  by  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  voices.  No  orgy, 
no  disorder,  no  relaxation  of  discipline; 
the  men  mounting  guard  under  arms  till 
the  inexorable  task  was  done;  the  hymns 
to    the   God   of  victory   and   the   distant 


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HYMNS   THAT  HAVE  HELPED. 


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home — they  seemed  like  an  army  of  priests 
coming  from  the  sacrifice.  This  one  pic- 
ture, painted  as  the  novelist  knows  how  to 
paint  in  his  best  days,  would  have  shown 
us  what  virtues,  wanting  in  our  own  camp, 
had  kept  fortune  in  the  service  of  the 
other/' 

Of  English  versions  there  have  been 
many.  That  of  Thomas  Carlyle  is  gener- 
ally regarded  as  the  best. 

1  A  sure  stronghold  our  God  is  He. 

A  trusty  shield  and  weapon  ; 
Our  help  He'll  be,  and  set  us  free 
From  every  ill  can  happen. 

That  old  malicious  foe 

Intends  us  deadly  woe  ; 

Armed  with  might  from  Hell, 

And  deepest  craft  as  well, 
On  earth  is  not  his  fellow. 

2  Through  our  own  force  we  nothing  can,  * 

Straight  were  we  lost  for  ever  ; 
But  for  us  fights  the  proper  Man, 
By  God  sent  to  deliver. 

Ask  ye  who  this  may  be 

Christ  Jesus  named  is  He. 

Of  Sabaoth  the  Lord  ; 

Sole  God  to  be  adored  ; 
'Tis  He  must  win  the  battle. 

3  And  were  the  world  with  devils  filled. 

All  eager  to  devour  us, 
Our  souls  to  fear  should  little  yield, 
They  cannot  overpower  us. 

Their  dreaded  Prince  no  more 

Can  harm  us  as  of  yore  ; 

Look  grim  as  e'er  he  may, 

Doomed  is  his  ancient  sway  ; 
A  word  can  overthrow  him. 

4  God's  word  for  all  their  craft  and  force 

One  moment  will  not  linger  ; 
But  spite  of  Hell  shall  have  its  course 

'Tis  written  by  His  finger. 
And  though  they  take  our  life, 
Goods,  honor,  children,  wife  ; 
Yet  is  there  profit  small : 
These  things  shall  vanish  all ; 

The  city  of  God  remaineth. 

Tunc—"  Worms?  also  called  x%Ein%  Feste  Burg." 

The  Forty-sixth  Psalm  was  always  a 
great  stand-by  for  fighting  men.  The 
Huguenots  and  Covenanters  used  to  cheer 
their  hearts  in  the  extremity  of  adverse 
fortunes  by  the  solemn  chant: 

God  is  our  refuge  and  our  strength, 

In  straits  a  present  aid  ; 
Therefore,  although  the  earth  remove 

We  will  not  be  afraid. 

It  will  be  noted  that,  although  Luther  s 
hymn  is  suggested  by  the  Forty-sixth 
Psalm,  it  is  really  Luther's  psalm,  not 
David's.  Only  the  idea  of  the  stronghold 
is  taken  from  the  Scripture;  the  rest  is 


Luther's  own,  "made  in  Germany,"  in 
deed,  and  not  only  so,  but  one  of  the  most 
potent  influences  that  have  contributed 
to  the  making  of  Germany.  And  who 
knows  how  soon  again  we  may  see  the  ful- 
filment of  Heine's  speculation,  when  Ger- 
mans "  may  soon  have  to  raise  again  these 
old  words,  flashing  and  pointed  with  iron  "? 
That  M.  de  Vogue  does  not  stray  beyond 
his  book  there  is  ample  evidence  to  prove. 
For  instance,  Cassell's  ,4  History  of  the 
Franco-German  War  "  describes  how,  the 
day  after  the  battle  of  Sedan,  a  multitude 
of  German  troops  who  were  on  the  march 
for  Paris  found  it  impossible  to  sleep, 
wearied  though  they  were.  They  were 
billeted  in  the  parish  Church  of  Augecourt. 
The  excitement  of  the  day  had  been  too 
great;  the  memory  of  the  bloody  fight  and 
their  fallen  comrades  mingled  strangely 
with  pride  of  victory  and  the  knowledge 
that  they  had  rescued  their  country  from 
the  foe.  Suddenly,  in  the  twilight  and  the 
stillness,  a  strain  of  melody  proceeded 
from  the  organ — at  first  softly,  very  softly, 
and  then  with  ever-increasing  force — the 
grand  old  hymn-tune,  familiar  as  "  house- 
hold words"  to  every  German  ear,  "  Nun 
danket  alle  Gott,"  swelled  along  the 
vaulted  aisles.  With  one  voice  officers 
and  men  joined  in  the  holy  strains;  and 
when  the  hymn  was  ended,  the  performer, 
a  simple  villager,  came  forward  and  deliv- 
ered a  short,  simple,  heartfelt  speech. 
Then,  turning  again  to  the  organ,  he 
struck  up  Luther's  old  hymn,  "  Ein'  feste 
Burg  est  unser  Gott,"  and  again  all  joined 
with  heart  and  voice.  The  terrible  strain 
on  their  system,  which  had  tried  their 
weary  souls  and  had  banished  slumber 
from  their  eyes,  was  now  removed,  and 
they  laid  themselves  down  with  thankful 
hearts  and  sought  and  found  the  rest  they 
so  much  needed. 

Frederick  the  Great  on  one  occasion 
called  Luther's  hymn  "God  Almighty's 
Grenadier  March." 

GUSTAVUS  ADOLPHUS'S   BATTLE  HYMN. 

Few  figures  stand  out  so  visibly  against 
the  bloody  mist  of  the  religious  wars  of 
the  seventeenth  century  as  that  of  Gus- 
tavus  Adolphus,  the  hero  King  of  Sweden, 
who  triumphed  at  Leipsic  and  who  fell 
dead  on  the  morning  of  victory  at  Ltitzen. 
The  well-known  hymn  beginning  "Verzage 
nicht,  du  H&uflein,"  which  is  known  as 
Gustavus  Adolphus's  battle  hymn,  was 
composed  by  Pastor  Altenburg,  at  Erfurt, 
on  receiving  the  news  of  the  great  victory 


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HYMNS   THAT  HAVE  HELPED. 


of  Leipsic,  which  gave  fresh  heart  and 
hope  to  the  Protestants  of  Germany.  It 
was  sung  on  the  morning  of  the  battle  of 
Ltitzen,  under  the  following  circumstances. 
When  the  morning  of  November  16,  1632, 
dawned,  the  Catholic  and  Protestant 
armies  under  Wallenstein  and  Gustavus 
Adolphus  stood  facing  each  other.  Gus- 
tavus ordered  all  his  chaplains  to  hold 
a  service  of  prayer.  He  threw  himself 
upon  his  knees  and  prayed  fervently  while 
the  whole  army  burst  out  into  a  lofty 
song  of  praise  and  prayer  : 

"  Verzage  nicht,  du  Hauflein  klein." 

As  they  prayed  and  sang  a  mist  de- 
scended, through  which  neither  army  could 
discern  the  foe.  The  King  set  his  troops 
in  battle  array,  giving  them  as  their  watch- 
word "  God  with  us."  As  he  rode  along 
the  lines  he  ordered  the  kettledrums  and 


trumpets  to  strike 
"Em*  feste  Burg " 
Gott  genadig  sein. 


up  Luther's  hymns, 
and  "  Es  wollt  uns 
As  they  played,  the 


soldiers  joined  in  as  with  one  voice.  The 
mist  began  to  lift,  the  sun  shone  bright, 
and  Gustavus  knelt  again  in  prayer.  Then, 
rising,  he  cried:  "Now  we  will  set  to, 
please  God,"  and  then  louder  he  said, 
"Jesu,  Jesu,  Jesu,  help  me  this  day  to  fight 
for  the  honor  of  Thy  name!"  Then  he 
charged  the  enemy  at  full  speed,  defended 
only  by  a  leathern  gorget.  "  God  is  my 
harness,"  he  replied  to  his  servant,  who 
rushed  to  put  on  his  armor.  The  battle 
was  hot  and  bloody.  At  eleven  in  the 
forenoon  the  fatal  bullet  struck  Gustavus, 
and  he  sank  dying  from  his  horse,  crying: 
"  My  God,  my  God!  "  The  combat  went 
on  for  hours  afterwards,  but  when  twi- 
light fell  Wallenstein* s  army  broke  and 
fled,  and  the  dead  King  remained  victor  of 
the  field  on  which  with  his  life  he  had  pur- 
chased the  religious  liberties  of  Northern 
Europe. 

1  Fear  not,  O  little  flock,  the  foe, 
Who  madly  seeks  your  overthrow, 

Dread  not  his  rage  and  power  ; 
What,  tho'  your  courage  sometimes  faints, 
His  seeming  triumph  o'er  God's  saints 

Lasts  but  a  little  hour. 

2  Be  of  good  cheer, — your  cause  belongs 
To  Him  who  can  avenge  your  wrongs, 

Leave  it  to  Him,  our  Lord. 
Tho'  hidden  yet  from  all  our  eyes, 
He  sees  the  Gideon  who  shall  rise 

To  save  us,  and  His  word. 

3  As  true  as  God's  own  word  is  true, 
Nor  earth,  nor  hell,  with  all  their  crew, 

Against  us  shall  prevail, — 


A  jest  and  byword  are  they  grown  ; 
44  God  is  with  us"  we  are  His  own, 
Our  victory  cannot  fail. 

Amen,  Lord  Jesus,  grant  our  prayer  ! 
Great  Captain,  now  Thine  arm  make  bare  ; 

Fight  for  us  once  again  ! 
So  shall  Thy  saints  and  martyrs  raise 
A  mighty  chorus  to  Thy  praise, 

World  without  end.     Amen. 


"ART  THOU  WEARY,  ART  THOU  LAN- 
GUID?" 

The  Monastery  of  Mar  Saba,  founded 
before  the  Hegira  of  Mohammed,  still 
stands  on  its  ancient  rock  looking  down 
upon  the  valley  of  the  Kedron.  Forty 
monks  still  inhabit  the  cells  which  cluster 
round  the  grave  of  St.  Sabas,  the  founder, 
w.ho  died  in  532,  and  still  far  below  in  the 
depths  of  the  gorge  the  wolves  and  the 
jackals  muster  at  morning  light  to  eat  the 
offal  and  refuse  which  the  monks  fling 
down  below.  In  this  monastic  fortress 
lived,  in  the  eighth  century,  a  monk  named 
Stephen,  who,  before  he  died,  was  gifted 
from  on  high  with  the  supreme  talent  of 
embodying  in  a  simple  hymn  so  much  of 
the  essence  of  the  divine  life  that  came  to 
the  world  through  Christ  Jesus  that  in  this 
last  decade  of  the  nineteenth  century  no 
hymn  more  profoundly  touches  the  heart 
and  raises  the  spirits  of  Christian  worship- 
ers. Dr.  Neale  paraphrased  this  song  of 
Stephen  the  Sabaite,  so  that  this  strain, 
originally  raised  on  the  stern  ramparts  of 
an  outpost  of  Eastern  Christendom  already 
threatened  with  submersion  beneath  the 
flood  of  Moslem  conquest,  rings  with  ever- 
increasing  volume  of  melodious  sound 
through  the  whole  wide  world  to-day: 

1  Art  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid, 

Art  thou  sore  distrest  ? 
"  Come  to  me,"  saith  One,  4t  and  coming, 
Be  at  rest." 

2  Hath  He  marks  to  lead  me  to  Him, 

If  He  be  my  guide  ? 
"  In  His  feet  and  hands  are  wound-prints, 
And  His  side." 

3  Is  there  diadem,  as  monarch, 

That  His  brow  adorns  ? 
*'  Yes,  a  crown,  in  very  surety, 
But  of  thorns  !  " 

4  If  I  find  Him,  if  I  follow, 

What  His  guerdon  here? 
**  Many  a  sorrow,  many  a  labor, 
Many  a  tear." 

5  If  I  still  hold  closely  to  Him, 

What  hath  He  at  last  ? 
*'  Sorrow  vanquished,  labor  ended, 
Jordan  past  ! " 


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6  If  I  ask  Him  to  receive  me, 

Will  He  say  me  nay  ? 
•*  Not  till  earth,  and  not  till  heaven, 
Pass  away  !  " 

7  Finding,  following,  keeping,  struggling, 

Is  He  sure  to  bless  ? 
*•  Angels,  prophets,  martyrs,  virgins, 
Answer,  '  Yes  ! '  " 

Tune — *  *  Stephanos. " 


44  LEAD,  KINDLY  LIGHT." 

Of  all  the  modern  hymns  praying  for 
guidance,  Newman's  famous  three  verses 
seem  to  be  most  popular — especially  with 
people  who  have  not  accepted  the  lead- 
ing of  any  church  or  theological  author- 
ity. ...  At  Chicago,  the  representatives 
of  every  creed  known  to  man  found  two 
things  on  which  they  agreed.  They  could 
all  join  in  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  they 
could  all  sing  "  Lead,  Kindly  Light." 
This  hymn,  Mrs.  Drew  tells  me,  and 
"Rock  of  Ages"  are  two  of  Mr.  Glad- 
stone's "most  favorite  hymns." 

Lead,  kindly  Light,  amid  the  encircling  gloom, 

Lead  Thou  me  on  : 
The  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home, 

Lead  Thou  me  on, 
Keep  Thou  my  feet ;  I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  scene  ;  one  step  enough  for  me. 

I  was  not  ever  thus,  nor  prayed  that  Thou 

Should 'st  lead  me  on  : 
I  loved  to  choose  and  see  my  path  ;  but  now, 

Lead  Thou  me  on. 
I  loved  the  garish  day,  and,  spite  of  fears, 
Pride  ruled  my  will  ;  remember  not  past  years. 

So  long  Thy  power  hath  blest  me,  sure  it  still 

Will  lead  me  on. 
O'er  moor  and  fen,  o'er  crag  and  torrent,  till 

The  night  is  gone, 
And  with  the  morn  those  angel  faces  smile, 
Which  I  have  loved  long  since,  and  lost  awhile. 

Tune — uLux  Benigna." 

"  It  seems  to  me  rather  singular,"  writes 
a  correspondent  in  Wales,  "  that  verses  so 
full  of  faith  as  'Lead,  Kindly  Light' 
should  be  mentioned  with  such  approval 
by  so  many  sceptics."  He  then  sends  me 
the  following  attempt  to  express  the  views 
of  an  agnostic,  thoughtful,  humble,  and 
reverent,  but  quite  unable  to  attain  to 
Newman's  standpoint. 

The  way  is  dark  :  I  cry  amid  the  gloom 

For  guiding  light ; 
A  wanderer,  none  knows  whence  or  what  his  doom, 

I  brave  the  night. 
Fair  scenes  afar,  as  in  a  dream,  I  see, 
Then  seem  to  wake,  and  faith  deserteth  me. 


In  wondering  awe  I  bend  the  knee  before 

The  viewless  Might  ; 
And  all  my  heart  in  mute  appeal  I  pour, 

While  straining  sight 
Peers  o'er  the  waste,  yet  Him  I  cannot  find 
Whom  seeks  my  soul :  I  grope  as  grope  the  blind. 

But  'mid  confusing  phantom-lights  I  strive 

To  go  aright  ; 
A  still  small  voice  leads  on,  and  love  doth  give 

An  inward  might : 
And  spite  of  sense,  there  lives  a  silent  trust 
That  day  will  dawn,  that  man  is  more  than  dust. 

R.  M.  L. 


"THE  LORD'S  MY  SHEPHERD." 

If  "Lead,  Kindly  Light"  is  English, 
and  "Guide  me,  O  thou  great  Jehovah" 
is  Welsh,  "  The  Lord's  my  Shepherd"  is 
Scotch. 

1  The  Lord's  my  shepherd,  I'll  not  want. 

He  makes  me  down  to  lie 
In  pastures  green  :  He  leadeth  me 
The  quiet  waters  by. 

2  My  soul  He  doth  restore  again  ; 

And  me  to  walk  doth  make 
Within  the  paths  of  righteousness, 
Ev'n  for  His  own  name's  sake. 

3  Yea,  though  I  walk  in  death's  dark  vale, 

Yet  will  I  fear  none  ill  : 
For  Thou  art  with  me  ;  and  Thy  rod 
And  staff  me  comfort  still. 

4  My  table  Thou  hast  furnished 

In  presence  of  my  foes  ; 
My  head  Thou  dost  with  oil  anoint, 
And  my  cup  overflows. 

5  Goodness  and  mercy  all  my  life 

Shall  surely  follow  me  : 
And  in  God's  house  for  evermore 
My  dwelling-place  shall  be. 


Tune 


1 Kilmarnock.1* 


"Forme,"  writes  Mr.  S.  R.  Crockett, 
the  popular  author  of  the  "Raiders" 
and  many  another  delightful  romance, 
"there  is  no  hymn  like  'The  Lord's  my 
Shepherd,  I'll  not  want.'  I  think  I  must 
have  stood  by  quite  a  hundred  men  and 
women  as  they  lay  a-dying,  and  I  can  as- 
sure you  that  these  words — the  first  learned 
by  the  child — were  also  the  words  that 
ushered  most  of  them  out  into  the  Quiet. 
To  me,  and  to  most  among  these  Northern 
hills,  there  are  no  words  like  them." 

Dr.  John  Ker  says:  "  Every  line  of  it, 
every  word  of  it,  has  been  engraven  for 
generations  on  Scottish  hearts,  has  accom- 
panied them  from  childhood  to  age,  from 
their  homes  to  all  the  seas  and  lands 
where  they  have  wandered,  and  has  been 
to  a  multitude  no  man  can  number  the  rod 


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HYMNS   THAT  HAVE  HELPED. 


and  staff  of  which  it  speaks,  to  guide  and 
guard  them  in  dark  valleys,  and  at  last 
through  the  darkest."  Of  its  helpfulness 
in  times  of  crisis  many  instances  are  given, 
of  which  that  which  appeals  most  to  me 
is  the  story  of  Marion  Harvey,  the  ser- 
vant lass  of  twenty  who  was  executed  at 
Edinburgh  with  Isabel  Alison  for  having 
attended  the  preaching  of  Donald  Cargill 
and  for  helping  his  escape.  As  the  brave 
lasses  were  being  led  to  the  scaffold  a  cu- 
rate pestered  them  with  his  prayers. 
"Come,  Isabel,"  said  Marion,  "let  us 
sing  the  Twenty-third  Psalm."  And  sing 
it  they  did,  a  thrilling  duet  on  their  pil- 
grimage to  the  gallows  tree.  It  was  rough 
on  the  Covenanters  in  those  days,  and 
their  paths  did  not  exactly,  to  outward 
seeming,  lead  them  by  the  green  pastures 
and  still  waters.  But  they  got  there  some- 
how, the  Twenty-third  Psalm  helping  them 
no  little.  This  was  the  psalm  John  Rus- 
kin  first  learnt  at  his  mother's  knee.  It 
was  this  which  Edward  Irving  recited  at 
the  last  as  he  lay  dying.  Even  poor  Hein- 
rich  Heine,  on  his  mattress-grave,  in  one 
of  his  latest  poems,  recalls  the  image  of 
the  Shepherd  guide  whose  "pastures 
green  and  sweet  refresh  the  wanderer's 
weary  feet."  The  magnificent  assurance 
of  the  fourth  verse  has  in  every  age  given 
pluck  to  the  heart  of  the  timid  and  strength- 
ened the  nerve  of  he/oes.  When  St. 
Francis  of  Assisi  went  alone,  bareheaded 
and  barefoot,  to  convert  the  Sultan,  he 
kept  up  his  spirit  on  his  solitary  pilgrim- 
age by  chanting  this  verse.  The  Mos- 
lems did  him  no  harm,  and  instead  of  tak- 
ing off  his  head,  returned  him  safe  and 
sound  to  the  pale  of  Christendom. 

"GIVE  TO  THE  WINDS  THY  FEARS." 

Mr.  Stevenson,  in  his  "  Notes  on  the 
Methodist  Hymn  Book,"  says:  "There 
is  not  a  hymn  in  the  book  which  has 
afforded  more  comfort  and  encouragement 
than  this  to  the  Lord's  tried  people." 
The  legend  connected  with  this  hymti  re- 
calls the  delightful  tales  in  the  lives  of 
the  saints.  Its  origin  is  not  unworthy  the 
record  of  its  subsequent  exploits.  Ger- 
hardt  was  exiled  from  Brandenburg  by  the 
Grand  Elector  in  1659  The  said  Grand 
Elector  wished  to  "tune  his  pulpits." 
Gerhardt  refused  to  preach  save  what  \\e 
found  in  God's  Word.  Notice  to  quit 
thereupon  being  promptly  served  upon  the 
intrepid  preacher,  he  tramped  forth  a 
homeless  exile,  accompanied  by  his  wife 
and  children.     Wife  and  weans  at  night, 


wearied  and  weeping,  sought  refuge  in  a 
wayside  inn.  Gerhardt,  unable  to  com- 
fort them,  went  out  into  the  wood  to  pray. 
As  he  prayed,  the  text  "  Commit  thy  way 
unto  the  Lord,  trust  also  in  Him  and  He 
shall  bring  it  to  pass"  recurred  to  his 
mind,  and  comforted  him  so  amazingly 
that  he  paced  to  and  fro  under  the  forest 
trees  and  began  composing  a  hymn  which, 
being  Englished  by  John  Wesley,  has  de- 
servedly become  a  great  comfort  to  all 
English-speaking  peoples.  Returning  to 
the  inn,  he  cheered  his  wife  with  his  text 
and  his  hymn,  and  they  went  to  bed  re- 
joicing in  confident  hope  that  God  would 
take  care  of  them.  They  had  hardly  re- 
tired before  a  thunderous  knocking  at  the 
door  roused  them  all.  It  was  a  mounted 
messenger  from  Duke  Christian  of  Meres- 
berg,  riding  in  hot  haste  to  deliver  a  sealed 
packet  to  Dr.  Gerhardt.  The  good  doctor 
opened  it,  and  read  therein  a  hearty  invi- 
tation from  the  duke,  who  offered  him 
"church,  people,  home,  and  livelihood, 
and  liberty  to  preach  the  Gospel  as  your 
heart  may  prompt  you."  So,  adds  the 
chronicle,  the  Lord  took  care  of  His  ser- 
vant. Here  is  the  hymn  which  was  com- 
posed under  such  singular  circumstances: 

1  Give  to  the  winds  thy  fears  ; 
Hope,  and  be  undismayed  : 

God  hears  thy  sighs,  and  counts  thy  tears  : 

God  shall  lift  up  thy  head. 

Through  waves,  through  clouds  and  storms. 

He  gently  clears  the  way. 
Wait  thou  His  time  ;  so  shall  the  night 

Soon  end  in  joyous  day. 

2  He  everywhere  hath  sway, 
And  all  things  serve  His  might ; 

His  every  act  pure  blessing  is, 

His  path  unsullied  light. 

When  He  makes  bare  His  arm, 

What  shall  His  work  withstand  ? 
When  He  His  people's  cause  defends, 

Who,  who  shall  stay  His  hand  ? 

3  Leave  to  His  sovereign  will 
To  choose,  and  to  command  ; 

With  wonder  filled,  Chou  then  shalt  own 

How  wise,  how  strong  His  hand. 

Thou  comprehend'st  Him  not ; 

Yet  earth  and  heaven  tell, 
God  sits  as  Sovereign  on  the  throne  ; 

He  ruleth  all  things  well. 

4  Thou  seest  our  weakness,  Lord  ; 
Our  hearts  are  known  to  Thee. 

O  lift  Thou  up  the  sinking  hand  ; 

Confirm  the  feeble  knee. 

Let  us,  in  life  and  death, 

Boldly  Thy  truth  declare  ; 
And  publish,  with  our  latest  breath, 

Thy  love  and  guardian  care. 

Tune — Dr,  GauntUtCs  "St.  Gcorgt" 

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HYMNS   THAT  HAVE  HELPED. 


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There  is  a  long  list  of  worthies  who 
have  been  cheered  in  life  and  death  by  this 
hymn,  but  the  champion  story  of  them 
all  is  the  "  Legend  of  the  Raven."  I  must 
quote  it  intact: 

In  a  village  near  Warsaw  there  lived  a 
pious  German  peasant  named  Dobyr. 
Without  remedy,  he  had  fallen  into  arrears 
of  rent,  and  his  landlord  threatened  to 
evict  him.  It  was  winter.  Thrice  he  ap- 
pealed for  a  respite,  but  in  vain.  It  was 
evening,  and  the  next  day  his  family  were 
to  be  turned  into  the  snow.  Dobyr 
kneeled  down  in  the  midst  of  his  family. 
After  prayer  they  sang: 

Commit  thou  all  thy  griefs 
And  ways  into  His  hands. 

As  they  came  to  the  last  verse,  in  Ger- 
man, of  Part  I., 

When  Thou  wouldst  all  our  needs  supply, 
Who,  who  shall  stay  Thy  hand  ? 

there  was  a  knock  at  the  window  close  by 
where  he  knelt,  and,  opening  it,  Dobyr 
was  met  by  a  raven,  one  which  his  grand- 
father had  tamed  and  set  at  liberty.  In 
its  bill  was  a  ring,  set  with  precious 
stones.  This  he  took  to  his  minister,  who 
said  at  once  that  it  belonged  to  the  king, 
Stanislaus,  to  whom  he  returned  it,  and 
related  his  story.  The  king  sent  for 
Dobyr,  and  besides  rewarding  him  on  the 
spot,  built  for  him,  next  year,  a  new 
house,  and  stocked  his  cattle-stalls  from 
the  royal  domain.  Over  the  house  door, 
on  an  iron  tablet,  there  is  carved  a  raven 
with  a  ring  in  its  beak,  and  underneath, 
this  address  to  Divine  Providence: 

Thou  everywhere  hast  sway, 

And  all  things  serve  Thy  might ; 

Thy  every  act  pure  blessing  is, 
Thy  path  unsullied  light. 

"  ROCK  OF  AGES.  " 

When  the  "  Sunday  at  Home  "  took  the 
plebiscite  of  3,500  of  its  readers  as  to 
which  were  the  best  hymns  in  the  lan- 
guage, the  "  Rock  of  Ages"  stood  at  the 
top  of  the  tree,  having  no  fewer  than 
3,215  votes.  Only  three  other  hymns  had 
more  than  3,000  votes.  They  were 
"  Abide  with  me,"  "Jesu,  Lover  of  my 
soul,"  and  "  Just  as  I  am." 

1     Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee  ! 
Let  the  water  and  the  blood, 
From  Thy  riven  side  which  flowed, 
Be  of  fin  the  double  cure, 
Cleanse  me  from  its  guilt  and  power. 


2  Not  the  labors  of  my  hands 
Can  fulfil  Thy  law's  demands  ; 
Could  my  zeal  no  respite  know, 
Could  my  tears  forever  flow, 
All  for  sin  could  not  atone  : 
Thou  must  save,  and  Thou  alone  ! 

3  Nothing  in  my  hand  I  bring  ; 
Simply  to  Thy  cross  I  cling  ; 
Naked,  come  to  Thee  for  dress  ; 
Helpless,  look  to  Thee  for  grace  ; 
Foul,  I  to  the  fountain  fly : 
Wash  me,  Saviour,  or  I  die  ! 

4  While  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath — 
When  my  eye-strings  break  in  death — 
When  I  soar  to  worlds  unknown — 
See  Thee  on  Thy  judgment  throne — 
Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 

Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee  ! 

Tunc— "Redhead,  No.  76." 

Toplady,  a  Calvinistic  vicar  of  a  Dev- 
onshire parish,  little  dreamed  that  he  was 
composing  the  most  popular  hymn  in  the 
language  when  he  wrote  what  he  called 
"  A  living  and  dying  prayer  for  the  holiest 
believer  in  the  world."  For  Toplady 
was  a  sad  polemist  whose  orthodox  soul 
was  outraged  by  the  Arminianism  of  the 
Wesleys.  He  and  they  indulged  in  much 
disputation  of  the  brickbat  and  Billings- 
gate order,  as  was  the  fashion  in  those 
days.  Toplady  put  much  of  his  time  and 
energy  into  the  composition  of  contro- 
versial pamphlets,  on  which  the  good  man 
prided  himself  not  a  little.  The  dust  lies 
thick  upon  these  his  works,  nor  is  it  likely 
to  be  disturbed  now  or  in  the  future.  But 
in  a  pause  in  the  fray,  just  by  way  of  fill- 
ing up  an  interval  in  the  firing  of  polemi- 
cal broadsides,  Augustus  Montague  Top- 
lady thought  he  saw  a  way  of  launching 
an  airy  dart  at  a  joint  in  Wesley's  armor,  on 
the  subject  of  Sanctification.  So,  without 
much  ado,  and  without  any  knowledge 
that  it  was  by  this  alone  he  was  to  render 
permanent  service  to  mankind,  he  sent  off 
to  the  "Gospel  Magazine"  of  1776  the 
hymn  "  Rock  of  Ages."  When  it  appeared 
he  had,  no  doubt,  considerable  compla- 
cency in  reflecting  how  he  had  winged  his 
opponent  for  his  insolent  doctrine  of  en- 
tire sanctification,  and  it  is  probable  that 
before  he  died — for  he  only  survived  its 
publication  by  two  years,  dying  when  but 
thirty-eight — he  had  still  no  conception  of 
the  relative  importance  of  his  own- work. 
But  to-day  the  world  knows  Toplady  only 
as  the  writer  of  these  four  verses.  All 
else  that  he  labored  over  it  has  forgotten, 
and,  indeed,  does  well  to  forget. 

It  was  this  hymn  which  the  Prince  Con- 
sort asked  for  as  he  came  near  to  death. 

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Mr.  Gladstone  has  translated  it  into  Latin, 
Greek,  and  Italian.  Dr.  Pusey  declared  it 
to  be  "the  most  deservedly  popular  hymn, 
perhaps  the  very  favorite."  The  follow- 
ers of  Wesley,  against  whom  the  hymn 
was  originally  launched  as  a  light  missile 
in  the  polemical  combat,  seized  it  for  their 
collection  and  mutilated  it  the  while — 
why,  does  not  clearly  appear.  The  unfor- 
tunate Armenians  who  were  butchered  the 
other  day  in  Constantinople  sang  a  trans- 
lation of  "  Rock  of  Ages,"  which,  indeed, 
has  made  the  tour  of  the  world,  side  by 
side  with  the  Bible  and  the  "Pilgrim's 
Progress."  It  is  recorded  that  General 
Stuart,  the  dashing  cavalry  leader  of  the 
Southern  Confederacy,  sang  the  hymn 
with  his  dying  strength,  as  his  life  slowly 
ebbed  away  from  the  wounds  he  had  re- 
ceived in  the  battles  before  Richmond. 
When  the  "London"  went  down  in  the 
Bay  of  Biscay,  January  nth,  1866,  the  last 
thing  which  the  last  man  who  left  the  ship 
heard  as  the  boat  pushed  off  from  the 
doomed  vessel  was  the  voices  of  the  pas- 
sengers singing  "  Rock  of  Ages."  "  No 
other  English  hymn  can  be  named  which 
has  laid  so  broad  and  firm  a  grasp  on  the 
English-speaking  world. ' ' 


"O  GOD  OF  BETHEL,  BY  WHOSE  HAND." 

When  I  asked  the  Duke  of  Argyll  as  to 
hymns  which  had  helped  him,  he  replied: 

Inverary,  Argyllshire,  December  31,  1895. 
Sir  :  I  would  be  very  glad  to  help  you  if  I  could, 
but  I  can't  honestly  say  that  any  one  hymn  has 
"  helped  "  me  specially.  Some  of  the  Scotch  para- 
phrases are  my  favourites,  **  O  God  of  Bethel,  etc. 
— Yours  obediently,  Argyll. 


O  God  of  Bethel,  by  whose  hand 
Thy  people  still  are  fed  ; 

Who  through  this  weary  pilgrimage 
Hast  all  our  fathers  led  ; 


Our  vows,  our  prayers,  we  now  present 
Before  Thy  throne  of  grace  ; 

God  of  our  fathers,  be  the  God 
Of  their  succeeding  race. 


Through  each  perplexing  path  of  life 
#  Our  wandering  footsteps  guide  : 
Give  us,  each  day,  our  daily  bread, 
And  raiment  fit  provide. 

O  spread  Thy  covering  wings  around, 
Till  all  our  wanderings  cease. 

And  at  our  Father's  loved  abode 
Our  souls  arrive  in  peace. 


5    Such  blessings  from  Thy  gracious  hand 
Our  humble  prayers  implore  ; 
And  Thou  shalt  be  our  chosen  God 
And  portion,  evermore. 

Tune — %%Farrant. " 

Of  this  hymn  and  the  way  it  has  helped 
men,  Mr.  S.  R.  Crockett  writes  as  follows: 
41  One  hymn  I  love,  and  that  (to  be  Irish) 
is  not  a  hymn,  but  what  in  our  country 
is  mystically  termed  a  '  paraphrase.'  It  is 
that  which,  when  sung  to  the  tune  of 
St.  Paul's,  makes  men  and  women  square 
themselves  and  stand  erect  to  sing,  like  an 
army  that  goes  gladly  to  battle."  .  .  . 

This  was  the  favorite  hymn  of  Dr.  Liv- 
ingstone. It  cheered  him  often  in  his 
African  wanderings,  and  when  his  remains 
were  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey  it  was 
sung  over  his  grave. 

A  Scotch  mission-teacher  at  Kuru- 
man,  Bechuanaland,  South  Africa,  writes: 
"This  hymn  stands  out  preeminently  as 
the  hymn  which  has  helped  me  beyond  all 
others.  It  shines  with  radiant  lustre  like 
the  star  that  outshineth  all  others  among 
the  midnight  constellations.  It  has  been 
my  solace  and  comfort  in  times  of  trouble, 
my  cheer  in  times  of  joy;  it  is  woven  into 
the  warp  and  woof  of  my  spiritual  being; 
its  strains  were  the  first  I  was  taught  to 
lisp,  and,  God  helping  me,  they  shall  be 
the  last.  Sung  to  the  tune  of  Dundee,' 
that  was  the  refrain  of  happy  meetings  or 
sad  partings.  Its  strains  rang  out  the  Old 
Year  and  heralded  in  the  New.  It  was 
chanted  as  a  farewell  dirge  when  I  left  my 
home  in  Scotland.  It  has  followed  me 
4  Sooth  the  line,'  and  every  gait  I  gang,  I 
never  rest  until  from  dusky  throats  roll  out 
the  familiar  words.  It  is  a  *  couthy'  psalm, 
and  touches  to  the  quick  the  human  spirit 
that  more  gifted  utterances  fail  to  reach. 
I  am  penning  this  in  the  little  room  that 
was  once  the  study  of  David  Livingstone, 
whose  walls  have  often  reechoed  to  many 
a  strain  of  praise  and  supplication,  but  to 
none  more  inspiring  and  endearing  than 
4  O  God  of  Bethel.'  "  Another  Scotchman 
writes:  **  In  some  ways  I  have  wandered 
far  from  the  faith  of  our  fathers,  but  the 
old  Psalms  move  me  strongly  yet.  4  O 
God  of  Bethel,  by  whose  hand  '  will  ever 
have  a  pathetic  interest  for  me.  I,  too, 
have  crooned  it  as  a  cradle  song  over  one 
who  will  never  need  to  hear  me  croon  it 
ever  more,  for  she  has  solved  the  riddle  of 
the  ages,  which  I  am 'left  painfully  trying 
to  spell.  These  rugged  lines  speak  out 
the  religious  experiences  of  a  rugged  race 
as  no  modern  hymns  ever  wilL^' 

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CHRISTMAS  NIGHT. 

Painted  by  F.  S.  Church  for  McClurb's  Magazine. 


Love's  angel  walketh  in  the  forest  wild ; 
No  prowling  midnight  beast  her  pathway  bars; 
For  love  herself,  who  dwells  beyond  the  stars, 
Becomes  to-night  for  us  a  gentle  child. 


MAP  OF  ASIA   SHOWING  THE  ROUTE  OF  DR.    HEDIN's  RECENT  JOURNEY. 
/,  Pamir  Ptmttau.    *.  Desert  of  Takla  Makan.    j.  Desert  of  Gobi.    4,  Lof  Nor  Lake. 


IN    UNEXPLORED   ASIA. 

THE    REMARKABLE    DISCOVERIES   AND   ADVENTURES    OF   DR.    SVEN 
HEDIN   AS   TOLD    BY   HIMSELF. 

Rf.CORDKI)  BY    R.    H.    Sherard. 


F  the  achievement  of  Sven  He- 
din,  the  young  Swedish  trav- 
eler, but  meager  accounts  have 
reached  the  West,  and,  indeed, 
beyond  Sweden  itself — if  we 
except  Germany  and  Russia 
— his  name  is  practically  un- 
known. Yet  for  pluck  and  perseverance 
in  overcoming  obstacles  and  difficulties, 
and  for  courage  before  danger,  Dr.  Sven 
Hedin  can  take  rank  with  his  fellow- 
countryman,  Dr.  Nansen;  whilst  in  ac- 
complishment, his    travels   have   perhaps 


been  even  more  prolific  than  Nansen's.  Of 
his  recent  journey  through  Central  Asia, 
which  lasted  for  a  period  of  three  years  and 
seven  months,  and  which  took  him  from 
Orenburg  in  the  West  to  Pekin  in  the  East, 
this  may  be  said:  that  he  not  only  did  all 
that  he  had  promised  his  King  that  he 
would  do  when  the  King  equipped  him  for 
the  expedition,  but  many  things  besides  of 
high  scientific  importance.  He  discovered 
the  ruins  of  two  Buddhist  towns  in  the 
heart  of  a  Mohammedan  country,  ruins 
which  tell  of  high  civilization  where  now 


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181 


DR.   SVBN    HKDIN. 


is  only  a  desert  waste  ;  ne  settled  a  contro- 
versy which  for  years  has  divided  the  geog- 
raphers of  Europe  into  two  camps.  And  as 
the  accomplishment  was  far  greater  than 
he  had  expected  or  hoped  for,  so  also 
were  the  difficulties  and  dangers  incom- 
parably more  formidable  than  he  had  an- 
ticipated. It  fell  to  him  in  his  journey 
across  the  Takla-Makan  Desert  to  un- 
dergo sufferings  which  assuredly  beat  the 
record  of  human  endurance;  and  had  his 
journey  had  no  other  result  than  to  show 
how  a  man  by  sheer  strength  of  will  and 


determination  to  save  his  life  can  fight 
death  and  triumph  over  it,  Sven  He- 
din's  story  would  be  full  of  direct  en- 
couragement to  every  one  who  heard  it 
told. 

It  was  in  his  study,  on  the  third  floor  of 
a  house  in  the  Norra  Blasieholmshamnen, 
in  Stockholm,  that  Sven  Hedin  related  to 
me  this  wonderful  story.  The  study, 
which  is  both  his  workroom  and  bedcham- 
ber, tells  one  about  him  much  that  the 
sight  of  his  athletic  frame;  his  firm,  strong 

face;  and  vivacious,  even  restless,  manner, 

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IN   UNEXPLORED  ASIA. 


DR.    HKDIN  S  TARANTASS  ON   THE    KIRGHIZ   STEPPES. 


had  left  untold.  For  furniture  it  has  a 
large  writing-table  and  a  small  bedstead. 
" 1  go  from  the  one  to  the  other,"  he  says. 
The  windows  are  wide  open,  day  and  night. 
On  the  walls  are  books,  and  all  the  books 
are  books  of  travel. 

Sven  Hedin  is  still  a  young  man.  He 
was  thirty-two  last  February.  Yet  his 
last  journey  was  the  third  journey  of  ex- 
ploration which  he  has  undertaken  in  Asia. 
Until  he  was  about  twenty  he  intended  to 
become  a  Polar  explorer.  He  relinquished 
this  project  because  it  seemed  to  him  that 
the  dark  region  of  Central  Asia  offered  a 
field  of  wider  scientific  interest  than  the 
frozen  seas  of  the  North;  and  Hedin's 
scientific  interests  have  a  very  wide  range. 
In  the  first  place  a  geographer,  his  stud- 
ies embrace  all  the  many  sciences  which 
are  in  relation  to  geography.  This  science 
he  has  studied  with  passionate  application 
ever  since  he  could  read.  Before  he  was 
seventeen  he  drew  maps  which  fill  five 
large  volumes — exquisite  examples  of 
draughtsmanship  they  are.  There  are 
maps  of  the  constellations;  maps  giving 
the  routes  followed  by  every  Polar  traveler; 
maps  hypsometrical,  topographical,  statis- 
tical; maps  geological  and  zoological; 
executed  with  characteristic  neatness  and 
thoroughness. 

When  Hedin  was  twenty,  he  interrupted 
his  studies  at  Upsala  to  take  a  post  as 
tutor  at  Baku.  "  In  my  spare  time," 
he  said,  "  I  studied  languages  which  were 
likely  to  be  of  use  to  me  in  the  journeys  I 


had  already  projected.  I  studied  the  Tar- 
tar dialect  of  Turkish.  I  also  learned 
Persian.  I  had  very  good  teachers,  and  I 
would  learn  them."  He  earned  $160  by 
his  year's  work  as  tutor,  and  employed 
this  sum  to  take  a  first  journey  through 
Persia,  which  he  has  described  in  his  book, 
"  Through  Persia,  Mesopotamia,  and  Cau- 
casus." "  This  journey,"  said  Sven 
Hedin,  "  was  taken  as  an  apprenticeship  to 
traveling  in  Asia." 

In  1892,  because  of  his  acquaintance 
with  Persia,  Hedin  was  attached  to  a  spe- 
cial embassy  sent  to  the  Shah  of  Persia 
by  the  King  of  Sweden,  and  again  visited 
the  country.  In  the  autumn  of  the  same 
year  he  finished  his  university  career, 
taking  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Philoso- 
phy ;  and  then,  the  following  year 
(1893),  he  began  to  prepare  for  his  fam- 
ous journey  of  exploration  into  Central 
Asia. 

"  I  had  always  wanted  to  do  this,"  said 
Dr.  Hedin.  "  I  had  read  everything  that 
had  been  written  on  the  subject,  especially 
the  writings  of  Prshewalsky  and  of  Rich- 
thofen,  and  I  wished  to  do  many  things  and 
to  solve  many  problems.  My  principal 
objects,  as  described  in  the  paper  which  I 
read  here  in  Stockholm,  in  the  presence  of 
the  King,  were,  at  first — that  is  to  say,  be- 
fore I  started  on  this  journey — (1)  to  study 
the  glaciers  in  the  mountains  on  the  eastern 
side  of  the  Pamirs;  (2)  to  search  for  the 
old  Lop-Nor  Lake,  and  thus  to  settle  the 
controversy  between  Prshewalsky  and 
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IN  UNEXPLORED  ASIA. 


183 


Richthofen;*  (3)  to  explore  the  Thibetan 
plateaus  from  the  point  of  view  of  physical 
geography ;  (4)  to  cross  Asia  from  west  to 
east. 

"  I  concluded  that  this  work  would  oc- 
cupy not  more  than  two  years.     My  ex- 
pedition lasted,  in  fact,  three   years  and 
seven   months.      My   journey  was   much 
richer  in  results  than  I  had  expected,  and 
raised  many  questions  of  very  great  inter- 
est.    The  fund  for  ..  ~ 
the  expedition  was 
subscribed   by   the 
King,    Emmanuel 
Nobel   of    St.    Pe- 
tersburg, and  some 
other  Swedes,  and 
amounted  to  30,000 
Swedish  crowns.    I 
spent,   besides, 
4,  000    kronors 
which  I  earned  dur- 
ing the  first  part  of 
my  travels  by  con- 
tributing    to     the 
newspapers ;      so 
that  the  whole  ex- 
pedition  cost    34,- 
000  crowns." 

Dr.  Hedin's  oc- 
casional references 
to  details  of  busi- 
ness are  character- 
istic of  the  Swedes. 
They  have  a  strong 
commercial  spirit 
and  a  respect  for 
money,  but  the 
earning  of  money 
is  not  with  them 
the  highest  ideal. 

"  I  started  on  my 
journey,"  contin- 
ued Dr.  Hedin,*'on 
October  16,  1893, 
and  proceeded  via 
St.  Petersburg  and 

Moscow   to    Oren-  A  K,RGH,Z  scout. 

burg,   where    I 

bought  a  tarantass  and  hired  five  horses; 
and  with  this  equipage  I  crossed  the 
Kirghiz  steppes  to  Tashkent,  changing 
horses  at  each  of  the  ninety-four  stations, 
and  covering  the  2,000  kilometers  in 
nineteen  days.     I  remained  a  month  and 

•  A  long  and  very  interesting  polemic  war  waged  between 
the  two  explorers.  Prshewalsky  claimed  to  have  discovered 
Lop-Nor ;  Richthofen  declared  that,  arguing  from  the  old 
Chinese  maps  and  books,  the  real  lake  ofLop-Nor  was  much 
further  north  than  the  lake  discovered  by  Prshewalsky.  This 
was  the  Lop-Nor  also  reached  by  Bonvalot  and  Henri  of 
Orleans.  Prshewalsky  said  the  Chinese  maps  and  books  were 
wrong. 


a    half    in     Tashkent,    making    the   final 
preparations  for  my  journey,  and  invested 
500   roubles   in   presents   to   give   to   the 
natives — very    bad    revolvers,     trumpery 
microscopes,  and  so  on.      I  reached  Mar- 
gelan,  the  capital  of  Ferghana,  in  Febru- 
ary, and  on  the  25th  of  that  month  started 
out  for  Kashgar.     It  was  the  worst  season 
of  the  year  for  crossing  the  Pamirs,  for 
the  snowfali  on  those  mountains  is  heavi- 
est in  February  and 
March,  and  the 
danger  to  caravans 
is  very  great.     So 
dangerous  was  my 
expedition    consid- 
ered  that   I  could 
only  obtain  horses 
at     an     exorbitant 
rate.    A  horse  costs 
twenty   roubles    in 
Tashkent,     and     I 
had     to     pay    one 
rouble    a    day   for 
each  of  the  twelve 
horses  I  hired.  The 
stable-keeper     did 
not  expect   to  see 
them   again,   for  a 
snowstorm    in    the 
Pamirs    kills    men 
and  horses.     That 
is  why  I  wanted  to 
go.      I   wanted   to 
see  the  snow  on  the 
mountains  ;   I    had 
climatical     studies 
to  make. 

14  It  took  me  f\st. 
days   to   cross   the 
Alai     range,     pro- 
ceeding south  over 
Tengis-Bai      pass, 
the  height  of  which 
•s     3,850     metres. 
There  were  no 
roads.        All     was 
snow  and  ice.     We 
had  to  cut  out  roads 
for  the  horses.    When  my  five  men  and  my- 
self did  not  suffice,  we  hired  Kirghises  to 
help   us,  thirty  or  forty   at    times.       We 
crossed  very  happily;    but  had    we  come 
a  day   earlier  or  a  day  later,    we  should 
all  have  perished.     The  preceding  day  an 
avalanche  half  a  mile  in  length  had  fallen, 
which    would  have   destroyed  us  utterly. 
The  day  after  our   crossing  there   was  a 
terrific  snowstorm  on  the  pass. 

"  It  was  very  difficult  work  to  proceed  up 
Alai  valley.    We  had,  in  places,  to  hire  the 

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IN   UNEXPLORED  ASIA. 


WOMEN    OF  THE   PAMIRS. 


camels  to  trample  out  a  path  in  the  snow. 
In  one  part  of  our  track  the  snow  was  ten 
feet  deep  over  an  extent  of  200  yards.  We 
crossed  this  by  laying  tent-felts,  which  we 
borrowed  from  the  Kirghises,  over  the 
snow.  In  six  days  we  reached  the  Kizil- 
Art  pass,  in  the  Trans-Alai  range,  and 
crossed  it  safely.  It  is  14,620  feet  high. 
In  the  valley  on  the  other  side  the  cold  was 
very  great.  It  reached  thirty-eight  and 
one-half  degrees  Celsius  [equal  to  about 
thirty-eight  degrees  below  zero,  Fahren- 
heit], which  is  near  the  freezing  point  of 
mercury.  But  I  am  indifferent  to  cold. 
1  am  a  Swede.  It  is  often  very  cold  in 
Stockholm.  From  Kizil-Art  I  traveled  to 
the  great  salt  lake  of  Karakul.  I  wanted 
to  measure  its  depth,  which  nobody  had 
yet  done.  I  believed  it  to  be  very  deep. 
I  was  entirely  successful,  for  the  lake  was 
frozen  over  and  we  were  able  to  move  over 
the  surface,  so  that  I  could  select  such 
places  as  I  wanted  for  my  sounding  experi- 
ments. The  deepest  place  I  found  was 
about  900  feet. 

44  Here  I  lost  the  caravan,  and  with  one 
attendant  spent  a  night  on  the  ice,  with 
nothing  to  eat  or  drink,  tramping  up  and 
down  in  a  temperature  of  fifteen  degrees 
below  zero.  Then  on  to  Murgab,  where 
I  spent  twenty  days  with  the  Russian  gar- 


rison; then  to  Lake  Rang-kul,  which  I 
also  sounded.  Crossing  the  Djugatai  pass, 
in  the  Sarik-Kol  range,  I  entered  Chinese 
territory. 

11  The  Chinese  were  very  much  afraid 
.of  me.  They  thought  I  was  a  Russian 
conqueror,  and  were  sure  that  all  my 
boxes  were  full  of  soldiers.  During  my 
first  night  on  Chinese  territory,  Chinese 
soldiers  kept  peeping  into  my  tent  to  make 
sure  that  I  was  not  opening  my  boxes  and 
letting  my  soldiers  out.  The  Chinese  com- 
mander at  Bulun-kul  was  very  unpleasant. 
He  was  an  enemy  to  Europe.  Many  Chi- 
nese detest  Europeans.  He  gave  orders 
that  no  one  was  to  trade  with  me  or  give 
me  fodder  for  my  horses.  At  last,  how- 
ever, I  persuaded  him  to  give  me  permis- 
sion to  proceed  south  to  Mus-tag-ata 
Mountain.  I  wanted  to  climb  it.  It  is 
25,000  feet  high.  During  that  year  I  made 
three  different  attempts  to  get  to  the  top, 
but  the  highest  point  I  reached  was  20,000 
feet.  On  each  occasion  the  snow  drove  us 
back.  On  that  first  occasion  I  was  at- 
tacked with  violent  iritis  and  had  to  make 
my  way  back  to  Kashgar.  There  I  got  well 
again,  and  wrote  a  book  in  German  on  the 
climate  of  the  Pamirs.  In  June  I  returned 
to  Mus-tag-ata,  and  spent  the  whole  sum- 
mer in  camp  there,  studying  the  glaciers. 


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IN  UNEXPLORED  ASIA. 


i«5 


THE   HIKED   KIRGHIZES   WITH   WHOM   DK.    HBOIN    CROSSED   THE  TENGIS-UAl    I'ASS. 


I  made  topographical  maps  of  fourteen 
glaciers.  I  passed  the  winter  in  Kashgar, 
where  I  was  ill  with  fever.  When  I  recov- 
ered I  wrote  several  scientific  articles. 
Then  I  prepared  for  the  journey  through 
the  desert." 

And  now  Sven  Hedin,  seating  himself 
on  the  sill  of  his  study  window,  swinging 
his  legs  to  and  fro  like  an  idle  boy,  and 
leisurely  smoking  a  cigar  as  he  spoke,  pro- 
ceeded to  tell  me,  quietly  and  without  ges- 
ture or  emphasis,  such  a  story  of  human 
endurance  and  human  courage,  of  trust  in 
self  and  faith  in  God,  as  few  men  have 
lived  to  tell. 

"  I  started  from  Kashgar  on  February 
x7*  I^95,  with  four  Turkish  servants  and 
eight  fine  camels.  I  wanted  to  cross  from 
the  Yarkand-Darya  River  to  the  Khotan- 
Darya  River,  over  the  Takla-Makan 
Desert.  I  wanted  to  explore  this  desert, 
which  nobody  had  ever  done.  There 
were  many  legends  anent  it  amongst  the 
inhabitants  on  its  confines — stories  of  an- 
cient towns  buried  in  the  sand;  and  I 
wanted  to  learn  if  there  was  any  founda- 
tion for  these  stories.  I  entered  the  desert 
on  April  10th.  We  had  water  for  twenty- 
five  days  with  us,  carried  in  iron  tanks  on 
the  backs  of  the  camels.  It  was  all  sand — 
moving  dunes  of  sand.     The  davs  were 


very  hot,  the  nights  were  bitterly  cold. 
The  air  was  full  of  dust.  We  crossed 
the  first  half  of  the  desert  in  thirteen 
days,  and  came  to  a  region  where  there 
were  some  hills  and  small  fresh-water 
lakes.  Here  I  bade  my  men  fill  the  cis- 
terns with  fresh  water  for  ten  days.  We 
then  proceeded,  all  going  well.  On  the 
second  day  after  we  had  left  the  lakes,  I 
looked  at  the  cisterns  and  found  that  water 
for  four  days  only  had  been  taken!  I 
thought  we  could  reach  the  Khotan-Darya 
in  six  days,  and  one  of  my  servants  told 
me  that  in  three  days'  march  from  where 
we  were  we  should  find  a  place  where  we 
could  dig  for  water.  I  believed  him,  and 
we  went  on. 

"  We  found  no  water,  and  two  days 
after,  our  supply  was  exhausted.  The 
camels  got  ill;  we  lost  three  camels  before 
May  1  st.  On  May  1st  the  men  began  to 
sicken.  I  was  so  thirsty  that  I  drank  a  glass 
of  the  vile  Chinese  spirit.  It  made  me  very 
ill.  We  only  proceeded  four  kilometers 
that  day — early  in  the  morning.  My  men 
were  all  weeping  and  clamoring  to  Allah. 
They  said  they  could  go  no  further;  they 
said  they  wanted  to  die.  I  made  them 
put  up  the  tent,  and  then  we  all  undressed 
and  lay  down  naked  in  the  tent.  During 
that  day  we  killed  our  last  sheep,  and 
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THE   ALAI    RANGE   OF   MOUNTAINS   IN   THE   PAMIRS. 


drank  its  blood.  We  all  thought  to  die. 
I  thought  I  would  do  my  best  to  go  as  far 
as  possible.  That  is  the  difference  between 
a  European  and  an  Oriental  :  a  Euro- 
pean thinks  that  a  life  is  not  so  easily  taken 
away;  an  Oriental  is  a  fatalist,  and  will 
not  fight  for  its  preservation.  In  the  even- 
ing of  May  Day  we  were  all  mad  with 
raging  thirst.  When  night  fell  we  walked 
on.  Two  of  the  men  could  not  move. 
They  were  dying.  So  we  had  to  leave 
them.  I  said  to  them,-'  Wait  a  little  here, 
sleep  a  little,  and  then  follow  us.' 

"I  had  to  abandon  much  of  my  luggage 
— 5,000  kronors*  worth — for  the  camels 
were  too  weak.  But  I  took  my  most  im- 
portant instruments  with  me,  all  my  Chi- 
nese silver,  my  maps,  and  my  notes.  That 
night  another  camel  died.  I  was  ahead, 
carrying  a  torch  to  lead  the  way.  In  the 
night  a  third  man  gave  in,  and  lay  down 
in  the  sand  and  motioned  to  me  to  leave 
him  to  die.  Then  I  abandoned  every- 
thing— silver,  maps,  and  notebooks — and 
took  only  what  I  could  carry:  two  chro- 
nometers, a  box  of  matches,  ten  cigar- 
ettes, and  a  compass.  The  last  of  the  men 
followed.  We  went  east.  The  man  car- 
ried a  spade  and  an  iron  pot.  The  spade 
was  to  dig  for  water;  the  iron  pot  held 
clotted  blood,  foul  and  putrid.      Thus  we 


staggered  on,  through  the  moving  dunes 
of  sand,  till  the  morning  of  the  second  of 
May. 

"  When  the  sun  rose  we  dug  out  holes 
in  the  sand,  which  was  cold  from  the  frost 
of  the  night,  and  undressed  and  lay  down 
naked.  With  our  clothes  and  the  spade 
we  made  a  little  tent,  which  gave  us  just 
enough  shelter  for  our  heads.  We  lay 
there  for  ten  hours.  At  nightfall  we  stag- 
gered on  again,  still  towards  the  east. 
We  advanced  all  the  night  of  the  second, 
and  the  morning  of  the  third  of  May.  On 
this  morning,  as  we  were  stumbling  along, 
Kasim  suddenly  gripped  my  shoulder  and 
pointed  east.  He  could  not  speak.  I 
could  see  nothing.  At  last  he  whispered, 
'  Tamarisk!  '  So  we  walked  on,  and 
after  a  while  I  saw  a  green  thing  on  the 
horizon. 

"  We  reached  it  at  last,  but  we  could  not 
dig.  It  was  all  sand,  yards  deep.  But  we 
thanked  God,  and  munched  the  green  foli- 
age ;  and  all  that  day  we  lay  naked  in  its 
shadow.  At  nightfall  I  dressed,  and  bade 
Kasim  follow.  He  lay  where  he  was,  and 
said  not  a  word.  I  left  him,  and  went  east. 
I  went  on  till  one  in  the  morning.  Then 
I  came  to  another  tamarisk,  and  as  the 
night  was  bitterly  cold,  I  collected  the 
fallen  branches  and  made  a  fire.     In  the 


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IN   UNEXPLORED  ASIA. 


187 


DR.    HKDJN  S  CARAVAN    NEAR  THE   SUMMIT   OP  THE  THNGIS-BAI    PASS,    IN  THR   AI.AI    RANGE. 


night  my  companion  came  up.  He  had 
seen  my  fire.  He  did  not  speak.  I  did 
not  speak.  We  had  no  interest  to  talk. 
It  was  impossible  to  do  so,  for  our  mouths 
were  as  dry  as  our  skins. 

"  That  night  we  walked  on  for  several 
hours,  and  so  on  till  the  sun  grew  hot  on 
the  4th  of  May,  when  we  again  lay  down 
naked  on  the  sand.  On  the  night  of  May 
4th  we  advanced  crawling  on  all  fours  and 
resting  every  ten  yards  or  so.  I  meant  to 
save  my  life.  I  felt  all  along  that  my  life 
could  not  be  thrown  away  like  that.  We 
came  to  three  desert  poplars  on  a  patch  of 
soil  where  there  was  no  sand.  We  tried  to 
dig,  but  we  were  too  weak  and  the  frozen 
ground  was  too  hard.  We  barely  dug  to 
a  depth  of  six  inches.  Then  we  fell  on 
our  faces  and  clawed  up  the  earth  with  our 
fingers.  But  we  could  not  dig  deep.  So 
we  abandoned  the  hope  of  finding  water 
there  and  lit  a  fire,  in  the  hope  that  Islam- 
Bai,  the  man  who  had  stayed  behind  with 
the  camels,  might  chance  to  see  it  and  fol- 
low on.  It  happened  so,  but  I  only  knew 
it  later.  On  the  5th  we  went  on,  east.  We 
were  bitterly  disappointed,  for  the  poplars 
had  given  us  hope,  and  we  had  to  cross  a 
broad  belt  of  sterile  sand. 

"  At  last  we  saw  a  black  line  on  the 
horizon,  very  dark  and  very  thin,  and  we 


understood  that  it  must  be  the  forests  of 
Khotan-Darya.  We  reached  the  forest  by 
the  time  the  sun  grew  hot.  It  was  very 
deep  and  very  dense,  a  black  forest  of 
very  old  trees.  We  saw  the  tracks  of  wild 
beasts.  All  that  day  we  lay  naked  in  the 
shade  of  the  trees.  There  was  no  sign  of 
water  anywhere.  In  the  evening  I  dressed, 
and  told  Kasim  to  arise.  He  could  not 
move.  He  was  going  mad.  He  looked 
fearful,  lying  flat  on  his  back,  with  his 
arms  stretched  out,  naked,  with  staring 
eyes  and  open  mouth.  I  went  on.  The 
forest  was  very  dense  and  the  night  black, 
black.  I  had  eaten  nothing  for  ten  days; 
I  had  drunk  nothing  for  nine.  I  crossed 
the  forest  crawling  on  all  fours,  tottering 
from  tree  to  tree.  I  carried  the  haft  of 
the  spade  as  a  crutch.  At  last  I  came  to 
an  open  place.  The  forest  ended  like  a 
devastated  plain.  This  was  a  river-bed, 
the  bed  of  the  Khotan-Darya.  It  was 
quite  dry.  There  was  not  a  drop  of  water. 
I  understood  that  this  was  the  bad  season 
for  water.  The  river-beds  are  dry  in  the 
spring,  for  the  snow  which  feeds  them  has 
not  yet  melted  on  the  mountains. 

"  I  went  on.     I  meant  to  live.     I  would 
find  water.    I  was  very  weak,  but  I  crawled 
on  all  fours,  and  at  last  I  crossed  the  river- 
bed.   It  was  three  kilometers  wide.    Then, 
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IN   UNEXPLORED  ASIA. 


SOUNDING  LAKK  KAKAKUL. 

From  sketch  by  Dr   Hedin. 

as  I  reached  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  I 
heard  the  sound  of  a  duck  lifting  and  the 
noise  of  splashing  water.  I  crawled  in  that 
direction,  and  found  a  large  pool  of  clear, 
fresh  water.  I  thanked  God  first,  and  then 
I  felt  my  pulse.  I  wanted  to  see  the  effect 
that  drinking  would  have  on  it.  It  was  at 
forty-eight.  Then  I  drank.  I  drank  fear- 
fully. I  had  a  little  tin  with  me.  It  had 
contained  chocolates,  but  I  had  thrown 
these  away  as  I  could  swallow  nothing. 
The  tin   I  had  kept.     I  had  felt  sure,  all 


IN  THE    DESERT.      ABANDONING  THE   FIRST  CAMELS. 
From  sketch  by  Dr.  Hedin. 


the  time,  that  I 
should  find  water 
and  that  I  should 
use  that  tin  as  a 
drinking-cup.  I 
drank  and  drank 
and  drank.  It 
was  a  most 
lovely  feeling.  I 
felt  my  blood 
liquefying.  It 
began  to  run  in 
my  veins ;  my 
pores  opened. 
My  pulse  went 
up  at  once  to 
fifty  -  three.  I 
felt  quite  fresh 
and  living. 

44  As  J. lay  there 
I   heard  a  noise 
in  thereedslikea 
big  animal  mov- 
ing.    I   thought 
it   must   be  a  tiger.     There  are  tigers  in 
the  Khotan-Darya.     I  had  not  the  faintest 
feeling  of  fear.     I  felt  that   the  life  that 
had  been  just  regained  could  not  be  taken 
from  me  by  such  a  beast  as  a   tiger.      I 
waited  for  him  with  pleasure.     I  wanted 
to  look  into  his  eyes.     He  did  not  come. 
He  was  probably  frightened  to  see  a  man." 
44  Was  not  the  torture  of  thirst  terrible 
during  those  nine  days  ?  " 

44  No.     After  the  first  three  or  four  days 
the  sharpness  of  the  want  seemed  to  blunt 

itself.  But  as 
the  days  went 
on  I  grew  weak- 
er and  weaker.  I 
felt  like  a  con- 
valescent after 
many,  many 
years  of  sick- 
ness. 

44  Then,"  con- 
tinued Sven  He- 
din, 44 1  remem- 
bered Kasim.  So 
I  took  off  my 
Swedish  boots 
and  filled  them 
with  water,  and 
hooked  them  by 
the  tags  over 
the  ends  of  my 
spade-haft,  and 
retraced  m.y 
steps.  I  could 
walk  now.     But 


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IN  UNEXPLORED  ASIA. 


189 


when  I  reached 
the  forest  I 
could  not  find 
my  track .  I 
shouted  'Kasim! 
Kasim!  Kasim!' 
but  he  did  not 
answer,  and  I 
thought  he  was 
dead.  Then  I 
made  a  fire  in 
the  forest  —  for 
fear  of  tigers — 
a  huge  fire,  a 
splendid  illumi- 
nation, lighting 
up  the  mysteri- 
ous darknesses 
of  this  primeval 
forest.  It  gave 
me  very  great 
pleasure  to  see 
this  fire.  At  sun- 
rise I  searched 
for  Kasim  and 
found  him.  I  called  him.  He 
head  a  little.  '  Water! '  I  cried, 
his  head.  'I  want  to  die.'  I 
boots   near   his   head    so   that 


IN  THE   DESERT.      THE    FIRST  TAMARISK. 


From  a  sketch  by  Dr.  Hedin. 


splashed.  Then  he  rose  like  a  wild  beast, 
and  flung  himself  on  the  water  vessels  and 
drained  them  one  after  another  to  the  last 
drop.  Then  he  fell  back  and  would  «not 
move,  though  I  asked  him  to  come  with 
me  to  the  pool  and  bathe.  So  I  left  him 
and  went  on. 
I  took  a  bath, 
and  then  made 
for  the  south, 
down  the 
river-bed. 

"  I  walked 
on  for  three 
days,  and  did 
not  see  a  liv- 
ing soul  all  the 
time,  and  lived 
on  grass  and 
leaves,  and 
tadpoles  when 
I  could  catch 
them.  On  the 
fourth  day  I 
fell  in  with 
some  shep- 
herds with 
great  flocks. 
They  had 
never  seen  a 
European  be- 
fore.   They 


lifted   his    were  very  frightened  at  my  appearance, 

He  shook    especially   at    my    black    spectacles,    and 

shook  the    they    fled    to    the    forest.       I    called    to 

the  water    them  in  their  own  language.      Then  they 

came  out  and  asked  me  what  I  wanted. 

They  were  good  to  me  and  gave  me  some 

milk   and    bread.     I    stopped    some   days 

with  them,  and  heard  from  two  merchants 

who  arrived  that  at  two  days'  ride   from 

there  they  had  seen  a  man  and   a    white 


IN   THE   DESERT.      A   SAND-STORM. 

From  m  skttch  by  Dr.  ffcfin, 


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IN   UNEXPLORED  ASIA. 


camel  lying  in  the  river-bed.  They  had 
spoken  to  him,  but  he  had  cried  only, 
'Water!  water!'  They  had  given  him 
drink  and  food.  I  recognized  that  this 
was  Islam-Bai.  I  sent  a  shepherd  to 
fetch  him,  and  in  a  few  days  Islam  arrived 
with  Kasim  and  the  camel.  He  had  saved 
all  my  money,  some  instruments,  and  my 
maps  and  notes.  I  felt  quite 
rich. 

44  I  could  not  continue  my 
journey  without  the  hypso- 
metrical  instruments,  which 
had  been  lost,  and  so  I  had 
to  go  back  to  Kashgar  to  get 
a  new  outfit.  From  Kashgar 
I  sent  couriers  with  tele- 
grams to  Europe,  via  the 
Russian  Turkestan,  asking 
for  a  new  supply  of  things. 
Whilst  awaiting  their  arrival 
I  returned  to  the  Pamirs,  and 
explored  the  northern  slopes 
of  the  Hindoo  Koosh,  and 
visited  the  sources  of  the 
Amu-Darya.  In  August  I 
fell  in  with  the  Russian- 
English  Boundary  Commis- 
sion, and  spent  three  very 
pleasant  weeks  with 
them." 

Great  as  Dr.  Hedin's  sufferings  had 
been  they  did  not  deter  him  from  another 
journey  of  exploration  in  the  desert. 
44  I  wanted  to  see  if  there  were  any  old 
towns.  This  time  I  marched  from  south 
to  north.  After  a  seven  days'  march  I 
came  upon  the  ruins  of  a  very  old  town. 
In  the  valleys  between  the  sand  dunes 
there  rose  wooden  posts,  or  stakes,  of  pop- 
lar wood,  hard  as  stone.  These  had  been 
part  of  the  framework  of  the  houses,  the 
skeletons  of  the  houses,  and  innumerable 
they  were,  everywhere  in  the  valleys  of 
the  dunes.  It  must  have  been  a  very  big 
town.  I  camped  here,  but  was  not  able  to 
stay  more  than  two  days  lest  my  water 
supply  should  be  exhausted  too  soon.  But 
during  those  two  days  we  dug  in  the  sand 
and  found  fragments  of  the  plaster  walls 
of  the  houses,  which  were  covered  with 
beautiful  paintings.  Then  I  myself  made 
a  great  discovery.  It  was  a  fragment  of 
an  old  manuscript,  on  something  which 
looks  like  paper,  but  is  not  paper.  Some 
of  the  characters  resemble  Sanscrit,  but 
they  are  not  Sanscrit.  Afterwards  I  sent 
agents  back  to  search  for  other  manu- 
scripts, and  they  found  some  more.  We 
found  nothing  else,  for  we  could  not  stay 
long,  and  we  could  not  dig  deep,  for  the 


CHINESE   SOLDIER, 


From  sketch  by  Dr.  Hedin, 


sand  keeps  falling  in.  But  I  do  not  think 
there  can  be  much  to  find  there  beyond 
the  mural  paintings,  for  no  doubt  these 
towns  were  gradually  abandoned  by  their 
inhabitants  as  the  sand  kept  coming  up, 
just  as  in  a  few  hundred  years  the  towns 
on  the  southern  fringe  of  the  desert  will 
all  be  abandoned;  the  siege  of  them, 
Guma,  Cherchen,  and  Nia, 
having  already  begun. 

"  From   the   first   town   I 
proceeded  eastward,  and  in 
about  a  week's  march  I  dis- 
covered  the   second   oi   the 
towns;  but  here  I  found  noth- 
ing.    I  shall  return  there,  of 
course,   for   I   consider   this 
one  of  the  most  interesting 
discoveries   ever   made.      It 
was  certainly  the  most  curi- 
ous thing   that  occurred   to 
me   during    my   four   years' 
journey.      No  traveler  ever 
expected    to    find    anything 
'££»     here,  and  it  was  given  to  me 
to    discover    the    traces  of 
Buddhist    civilization    in    a 
Mohammedan     land,    towns 
where,   to    judge    from   the 
very  high  point  of  develop- 
ment of  the  mural  paintings, 
the  state  of  civilization    must   have  been 
very  far  advanced.     Buddhists  the  inhab- 
itants certainly  were,  for  some  of  the  orna- 
mentations are  pure  Buddha,  and  on  one 
of   the   fragments   in    my  possession  is  a 
painting  of  Buddha  sitting  on  a  lotus." 
44  Can  you  fix  the  epoch  ?  " 
44  Not  at  all.     The  only  thing  that  I  can 
say  with  absolute  certainty  is  that  they  ex- 
isted before  the  Mohammedan  era.     There 
are  no  Buddhists  now  in  those  parts  of 
Asia.     I  shall   have  to  study  Buddhist  art 
very  carefully  to  be  able  to  fix  the  approxi- 
mate date  of  the  building  of  these  towns. 
Another  thing  which  will  help  me  is  the  ob- 
servations I  made  of  the  speed  at  which  the 
sand  dunes  progress.     I  have  data.     Dur- 
ing my  march  in  the  desert  I  experimented 
on   the  progress   of    the    moving    dunes. 
When  a  storm  of  wind  came  on,  I  planted 
a  post  at  the  top  of  a  dune,  and  after  the 
storm  had  passed  I  measured  the  distance 
between  the  post  and  the  top  of  the  dune, 
which  had  advanced  in  the  meanwhile,  and 
noted  the  time  in  which  this  progress  had 
taken  place.     When  I  have  r^culated  this 
out,  and  so  discovered  how  long  it  took  to 
transform  a  rich,  fertile,  and  well-watered 
land  into  a  desert  waste  of  sand,  I  shall 
be  better  able  to  fix.  the  period.     It  will 


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IN   UNEXPLORED  ASIA. 


191 


be  most  important  to  fix  the  period.  It 
will  throw  new  light  on  the  history  of  Cen- 
tral Asia;  it  will  teach  us  much  about  the 
migrations  of  the  Buddhist  peoples. 

"  I  stayed  at  the  second  town,  which 
was  much  smaller  and  where  I  found 
nothing,  for  two  days,  and  then  struck 
out  north  with  my  caravan,  and  reaching 
the  bed  of  the  Jarim  River,  followed  it 
down  to  the  city  of  Korla.  I  here  pre- 
pared for  my  journey  to  discover  the  old 
Lop-Nor.  I  did  discover  it.  I  went  by 
the  old  Chinese  maps,  and  I  proved  that 
Richthofen  was  right  and  Prshewalsky  was 
wrong.  My  course  was  south  by  south- 
east. I  found  the  old  Lop-Nor  in  the 
beginning  of  April,  1896.  There  was  no 
road,  and  I  had  to  guide  myself  through 
the  desert  by  the  Chinese  maps.  I  fol- 
lowed the  eastern  shore  of  the  lake,  and 
made  a  map  of  it.  It  took  me  five  days' 
march  to  reach  the  southern  end.  On  its 
shores  I  found  some  native  villages,  huts 
made  of  bundles  of  reeds.  The  people 
are  very  wretched,  miserable  people. 
They  had  never  seen  a  European  before. 
I  marched  on,  south  to  the  new  Lop-Nor, 
the  one  discovered  by  Prshewalsky. 

•'  At  the  end  of  April  I  returned  to 
Khotan  by  Marco  Polo's  southerly  route, 


and  made  many  scientific  observations  on 
the  way.  In  Khotan  I  prepared  for  my 
journey  through  Thibet.  This  was  a  very 
difficult  journey.  I  had  to  climb  the 
Kwen-Lun  range  and  cross  on  to  the  high 
Thibetan  plateaus  by  the  lofty  passes. 
For  two  months  we  marched  along  these 
plateaus  at  an  altitude  of  i6,coo  feet.  It 
was  a  horrible  country,  bare  desert,  sand, 
and  stones,  here  and  there  a  salt  lake. 
There  was  but  the  scantiest  vegetation, 
and  we  could  find  so  little  fodder  for  our 
animals  that  in  those  two  months  forty- 
nine  out  of  the  fifty-six  I  had  in  my  cara- 
van perished  of  fatigue  and  starvation. 
We  did  not  meet  a  single  man  during  all 
those  weeks,  and  the  only  living  things 
we  saw  were  herds  of  wild  yaks  and  of 
wild  horses.  We  used  to  shoot  the  yaks 
for  food.  We  reached  Tsaidan  in  the  be- 
ginning of  November.  From  there  we 
marched  east  to  the  great  lake  of  Kokonur, 
and  so  on  to  Pekin,  which  I  reached  on 
March  2d  of  this  year." 

From  Pekin  Dr.  Sven  Hedin  traveled 
through  Mongolia  in  Chinese  carts  to  Ki- 
achta,  and  thence  by  the  Trans-Siberia  rail- 
way home.  He  reached  Stockholm  on 
May  10th,  after  an  absence  of  three  years 
and  seven  months. 


Dr.  Hedin,  from  photograph  taken  during  his  stay  with  the  Anglo- Russian  Boundary  Commission  in  the  Pamirs. 


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CHARLES   A.    DANA. 


Died  October  18,   1897,  at  Glen  Covey  Long  Island.     Aged  78  years. 


THE  death  of  Charles  A.  Dana,  editor  of  the 
New  York  "  Sun,"  has  been  so  fully  noted  in 
the  daily  and  weekly  press  that  there  would  be  little 
occasion  to  recur  to  it  here  but  for  the  fact  that,  ever 
since  the  founding  of  McC lure's  Magazine,  Mr. 
Dana  has  been  one  of  its  warmest  friends  and  wisest 
counsellors.  For  some  years  before,  indeed,  he  had 
been  the  constant  encourager  and  adviser  of  the  edi- 
tor and  founder  of  the  magazine,  in  another  publish- 
ing enterprise  ;  and  he  continued  his  generous  sup- 
port and  guidance  to  the  day  of  his  last  illness.  It 
was  out  of  the  wish  to  help  the  magazine,  rather  than 
from  a  desire  to  make  them  public,  that  he  con- 
sented, about  a  year  ago,  to  put  his  invaluable  recol- 
lections of  the  Civil  War  in  shape  for  publication  ; 
and  other  instances  could  be  cited  of  his  prompt  and 
substantial  friendship. 

For  thirty  years  Mr.  Dana  has  been  one  of  the  most 
fearless,  brilliant,  and  influential  men  in  the  press 
of  the  United  States  :  one  who  made  a  paper  which 
every  man  in  the  profession  felt  that  he  must  read 
and  which  every  observer  of  the  times  wanted  to 
read.  This  paper  was  a  reflex  of  Mr.  Dana's  own 
self.  Indeed,  so  intimately  and  completely  did  his 
personality  pervade  the  New  York  "  Sun  "  that 
throughout  the  whole  country  it  was  quite  as  cus- 
tomary to  hear  people  saying,  44  Dana  says  so,"  as 
"  The  *  Sun  '  says  so  :  "  a  kind  of  public  recognition 
of  the  individual  force  of  the  editor  which  has  had 
but  one  parallel  in  the  United  States — Horace  Greeley 
and  the  *'  Tribune." 

The  distinguishing  marks  which  Mr.  Dana  put 
upon  the  **  Sun  "  were  the  freshness  and  unexpect- 
edness of  its  point  of  view,  the  comprehensiveness  of 
its  range,  the  clever  and  distinctive  English  style  in 
which  it  is  written,  and  its  disdain  of  humbug  and 
melodrama. 

These  qualities  were  the  natural  outcome  of  Mr. 
Dana's  own  intellect  and  tastes.  His  mind  was 
vigorous,  independent,  comprehensive.  He  had  a 
strong  sense  of  humor,  and  a  buoyant,  joyous  nature 
to  which  nothing  human  was  alien.  lie  saw  things 
in  unexpected  ways,  and  had  the  audacity  to  put 
them  as  he  saw  them.  The  cleverness  and  crispness 
of  his  presentation  of  things  made  the  "  Sun  "  the 
most  stimulating  and  entertaining  paper  in  America. 
There  was  a  sense  of  life  and  a  vigor  about  it  which 
made  the  oldest  theme  seem  new.  Whether  one 
agreed  with  the  paper  or  not,  he  read  it  for  the 
purely  intellectual  pleasure  he  got  out  of  it.  In  this 
the  •*  Sun"  has  been  unique. 

The  scope  of  the  "Sun"  was  merely  that  of 
the  editor's  own  mind.  Certainly  no  man  in  Amer- 
ican journalism  has  equaled  Mr.  Dana  in  vari- 
ety of  interests  and  extent  of  acquirements.  He 
had  a  power  of  accumulating  stores  of  knowledge 
not  unlike  that  of  Herbert  Spencer.  And  he  knew 
things  thoroughly.  There  was  nothing  of  the 
sciolist,  the  smatterer,  about  him.  He  knew  not 
onlv  his  own  time  and  own  country,  but  all  times 
and  all  countries.  Although  he  was  always  hotly 
interested  in  politics,  he  found  leisure  to  cultivate 
innumerable  lines  of  thought  and  to  keep  himself 
abreast  of  all  the  intellectual  movements  of  the 
day.     Piled  high  on  a  tide  table  in  his  private  office 


were  all  the  latest  books,  and  dozens  of  them  went 
through  his  hands  every  week.  On  his  orderly  table, 
waiting  for  an  idle  moment,  were  sure  to  be  seen  the 
latest  magazines,  a  copy  of  the  *'  Revue  des  Deux 
Mondes,"  of  4t  Cosmopolis,"  or  of  some  other  learned 
review.  Speculative  philosophy,  science,  history, 
political  economy,  every  phase  of  thought,  interested 
him.  At  the  same  time  he  had  a  taste  which  was 
almost  a  passion  for  pictures,  flowers,  and  ceramics  ; 
and  his  knowledge  of  orchids,  of  modern  paintings, 
and  of  Oriental  wares  was  extensive.  languages 
were  a  special  delight  to  him.  He  spoke  several, 
and  was  always  learning  a  new  one.  Russian  was 
the  last  he  undertook,  and  during  the  last  winter  a 
Russian  dictionary  was  always  within  his  reach  at 
his  office. 

Mr.  Dana's  interest  in  foreign  tongues  never 
caused  him  to  neglect  his  own.  For  years  he  labored 
vigorously  and  persistently  to  improve  newspaper 
English,  making  life  miserable  for  writers  who  split 
their  infinitives,  misused  **  in  the  midst  of,"  or  com- 
mitted any  other  sin  against  grammar  or  good  taste. 
In  spite  of  its  incessant  struggle  for  precise  and  idio- 
matic English  the  "Sun"  never  became  pedantic  or 
over-nice.  Indeed,  its  language  was  often  as  unex- 
pected as  its  opinions.  It  employed  colloquialisms 
freely,  and  used  slang  with  irresistible  effect.  Almost 
every  day,  too,  its  editorial  page  teemed  with  words 
and  expressions  of  great  force  not  in  common  vogue. 
Mr.  Dana  aimed  quite  as  much  to  show  the  wealth, 
flexibility,  and  expressiveness  of  English  as  to  wage 
war  on  those  who  broke  its  common  law. 

There  was  no  cant  or  pretension  about  Mr.  Dana's 
forceful  editing,  and  those  qualities  never  had  a  bit- 
terer enemy.  His  attitude  in  literary  matters  is  an 
illustration.  He  gave  much  space  always  in  his 
Sunday  journal  to  book  reviews,  to  .original  verse, 
and  to  fiction.  The  digest  of  serious  works,  par- 
ticularly in  the  line  of  history,  which  he  introduced 
into  the  Sunday  "  Sun  "  is  the  most  valuable  book- 
reviewing  for  the  general  public  that  is  done  in  this 
country ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  had  a  department 
of  book  reviews  of  which  the  particular  province  was 
to  uncover  pretension,  melodrama,  and  unwholesome- 
ness.  A  writer  who  showed  a  vital  quality  of  feel- 
ing, thought,  or  expression,  whatever  his  crudities, 
was  sure  of  encouragement  from  Mr.  Dana ;  but  for 
a  literary  poseur  he  had  nothing  but  ridicule. 

The  vigor  and  intensity  with  which  Mr.  Dana  for 
so  long  directed  the  M  Sun's  "  policy,  and  the  almost 
universal  attention  his  opinions  pn  all  sorts  of  po- 
litical and  literary  questions  received,  have  put  out 
of  sight  his  earlier  career  ;  although;  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  he  was  for  more  than  twenty  years  before  he  took 
the  "  Sun  "  ardently  and  actively  interested  in  dif- 
ferent phases  of  the  greatest  intellectual  agitation 
which  our  country  has  ever  experienced. 

The  socialistic  movement  which  took  so  strong  a 
hold  on  the  East  in  the  40's  attracted  Mr.  Dana 
when  he  was  but  a  boy,  and  when  by  the  failure  of 
his  eyes  he  was  obliged  to  leave  Harvard  College,  he 
went  at  once  to  Brook  Farm,  with  most  of  the  mem- 
bers of  which  he  was  acquainted.  Before  he  had 
been  there  many  weeks  he  was  elected  a  trustee,  and 
continued  with  the  movement  until  the  unfortunate 


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CHARLES  A.-  DANA. 


burning  of  the  building  in  1844  sent  the  theorists 
back  to  the  world  to  begin  life  again.  At  Brook 
Farm  Mr.  Dana  was  associated  with  Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne, William  Henry  Channing,  A.  Bronson  Al- 
cott,  George  Ripley,  Margaret  Fuller,  and  many 
other  men  and  women  of  extraordinary  intellectual 
and  social  gifts.  He  sympathized  thoroughly  with 
the  efforts  the  company  made  to  realize  there  the 
social  system  of  Fourier,  and  it  was  due  largely,  by 
all  accounts,  to  his  practical  sagacity  that  the  experi- 
ment was  developed  as  far  as  it  was. 

For  fifteen  years,  from  1847  to  1862,  Mr.  Dana 
was  associated  with  Horace  Greeley  on  the  New 
York  "  Tribune,"  and  it  was  he  who,  with  James  S. 
Pike,  made  the  4i  Tribune "  the  tremendous  anti- 
slavery  power  it  was  in  the  5o's.  One  need  only 
read  Mr.  Greeley's  own  letters  to  Mr.  Dana,  written 
when  the  former  was  away  on  the  frequent  long 
journeys  he  made,  and  especially  those  written  in 
the  winter  of  1855  and  1856,  when  Mr.  Greeley  was 
acting  as  the  Washington  editor  of  the  paper,  to 
understand  the  intimate  relation  of  the  two  men  and 
the  almost  absolute  sway  of  Mr.  Dana  in  the  New 
York  office  of  the  paper.  The  intimacy  was  shown 
not  alone  by  approval,  but  by  the  bluntest  criticism. 
While  Mr.  Greeley  often  wrote  to  Mr.  Dana  thank- 
ing him  for  a  "glorious  issue,"  he  was  continually 
protesting  petulantly  against  Dana's  aggressiveness, 
and  especially  during  the  winter  that  the  former 
spent  in  Washington.  "  I  entreat,"  he  wrote  once 
when  the  "  Tribune  "  had  attacked  a  public  man  in 
Washington  whom  Greeley  wanted  to  conciliate, 
"that  I  may  be  allowed  to  conduct  the  'Tribune' 
with  reference  to  the  mile  wide  that  stretches  either 
way  from  Pennsylvania  Avenue.  It  is  but  a  small 
space,  and  you  have  all  the  world  besides."  And 
again,  when  an  attack  by  the  "  Tribune  "  had  caused 
him  much  personal  friction,  he  said  :  "  I  shall  have 
to  quit  here  or  die  unless  you  stop  attacking  people 
here  without  consulting  me.  .  .  .  Do  send  some 
one  here  and  kill  me  if  you  cannot  stop  this,  for  I 
can  bear  it  no  longer." 

The  intimate  relations  between  Mr.  Greeley  and 
Mr.  Dana  lasted  until  the  breaking  out  of  the  Civil 
War.  The  great  struggle  had  not  begun  before 
their  ideas  of  the  policy  to  be  pursued  differed  radi- 
cally. Finally,  in  April,  1862,  they  separated.  Mr. 
Dana  himself  has  given  the  reason.  "  Greeley  was 
for  peace  and  I  was  for  war.  As  long  as  I  stayed  on 
the  *  Tribune '  there  was  a  spirit  there  which  was 
not  his  spirit — that  he  did  not  like." 

What  Mr.  Dana's  influence  in  the  "  Tribune  " 
had  been  was  well  known  to  many  public  men, 
among  them  Secretary  Stanton.  Indeed,  at  once 
after  entering  on  the  duties  of  the  War  Department, 
in  January,  1862,  Mr.  Stanton  had  written  to  Mr. 
Dana,  thanking  him  for  a  certain  editorial.  "  You 
cannot  tell  how  much  obligation  I  feel  myself  under 
for  your  kindness,"  the  Secretary  said;  and  then,  after 
stating  confidentially  the  difficulties  of  his  new  posi- 
tion, he  added  :  "  But  patience  for  a  short  while 
only  is  all  I  ask,  if  you  and  others  like  you  will  rally 
around  me."  A  few  weeks  later  he  wrote  again  to 
Mr.  Dana  :  "  We  have  one  heart  and  mind  in  this 
great  cause,  and  upon  many  essential  points  you 
have  a  wider  range  of  observation  and  clearer  sight 
than  myself  ;  I  am  therefore  willing  to  be  guided 
by  your  wisdom." 

When  Stanton  knew  that  Dana  had  left  the 
"  Tribune  "  he  immediately  invited  him  to  come  into 
the  service  of  the  War  Department.  This  connec- 
tion began  in  1862,  and  lasted  until  the  war  was 
over.  Throughout  this  period  Mr.  Dana  sustained 
a  peculiarly  confidential  relation  to  Stanton  and  Lin- 
coln.    He  was  the  ene  man  on  whom  they  found 


they  could  rely  to  give  them  an  opinion  of  men  and 
events  he  was  sent  to  observe  that  was  as  intelligent 
as  it  was  frank.  They  depended  more  and  more 
upon  him  until  it  became  their  rule  to  send  him  im- 
mediately to  the  center  of  any  critical  situation  and 
to  form  their  course  of  action  largely  on  his  repre- 
sentation. One  has  but  to  study  his  reports  to  Mr. 
Stanton  in  connection  with  the  events  of  the  war  to 
see  that  his  representations  and  suggestions  were  the 
determining  factor  in  many  of  the  greatest  problems 
of  the  period.  "  No  history  of  the  Civil  War  can  be 
written  without  taking  into  consideration  Mr.  Dana's 
influence,"  says  Mr.  Joseph  Medill  of  the  Chicago 
"Tribune;"  and  Mr.  Leslie  J.  Perry  of  the  War 
Records  Commission,  in  speaking  of  Mr.  Dana's 
reports,  says  : 

"  He  was  a  keen-eyed  observer,  and  his  extraor- 
dinary grasp  of  the  situation  upon  the  various  thea- 
ters of  war  which  he  visited,  his  sagacity  in  weighing 
the  worth  or  worthlessness  of  the  great  officers 
chosen  to  carry  out  the  vast  military  designs  of  the 
Government,  his  acute  discernment  of  their  strong 
and  weak  qualities,  and  above  all  the  subtle  power 
and  scope  of  his  vigorous  reports  to  Secretary  Stanton 
of  what  he  saw,  make  them  the  most  remarkable, 
interesting,  and  instructive  collection  of  official  docu- 
ments relating  to  the  Rebellion." 

Absorbed  though  he  was  every  day  of  the  week 
with  the  un -ending  labor  of  a  great  daily  newspaper, 
always  in  the  thick  of  every  public  contest,  and  pas- 
sionately interested  in  art  and  in  literature,  there 
still  has  never  been  a  more  accessible  or  genial 
editor  in  the  country  than  Mr.  Dana.  He  always 
had  time  for  his  friends  and  for  what  he  called 
"  fun  ; "  and  by  "  fun  "  Mr.  Dana  meant  anything, 
work  or  play,  which  had  vitality  in  it.  His  buoyant 
joy  in  life  and  things  in  general  was  contagious,  and 
made  him  the  most  enjoyable  and  stimulating  of 
companions.  Rarely  is  a  man  loved  as  he  was  by 
those  of  his  profession  who  are  in  personal  relations 
with  him.  It  was  only  necessary  to  see  him  in  his 
office  at  the  "  Sun  "  to  understand  this.  There  was 
not  an  office  boy  there  who  could  not  have  a  hearing 
if  he  wished  it,  nor  one  to  whom  at  some  time  or 
other  Mr.  Dana  had  not  given  some  proof  of  his  per- 
sonal good  feeling.  He  was  always  considerate  in 
his  dealings,  and  his  gentleness  with  his  subordinates 
was  unending.  They  loved  him  for  this  ;  but  above 
all  they  admired  him  for  his  wonderful  vigor.  It 
was  a  matter  of  pride  at  the  "  Sun  "  that,  though  Mr. 
Dana  was  nearly  seventy-eight  years  old  when  he  was 
obliged  to  leave  his  post,  there  was  not  a  younger 
mind  or  body  in  the  office. 

Mr.  Dana's  kindliness  of  spirit  was  not  shown 
alone  to  those  in  his  own  office.  In  the  great  mass 
of  newspaper  comment  which  his  death  has  called 
forth  one  thing  is  conspicuous — the  tribute  to  his 
helpfulness  by  men  in  his  profession.  Hundreds  of 
journalists,  writers,  and  editors  all  over  the  country 
know  that  they  have  been  helped  to  their  feet  by  his 
advice  and  encouragement.  Men  in  whose  writings 
he  detected  the  qualities  which  he  admired  were  sure 
to  receive  the  support  of  the  **  Sun."  If  a  contribu- 
tion came  to  him  which  was  unavailable  for  his  own 
columns,  but  which  he  thought  might  be  useful  to 
another  editor,  he  often  would  personally  recommend 
the  article.  He  would  listen  to  projects  of  editors 
and  journalists,  and  if  an  enterprise  commended 
itself  give  it  his  full  support.  His  day  was  filled 
with  helpfulness,  though  he  seemed  quite  uncon- 
scious of  the  fact.  It  was  "  the  natural  way  of  liv- 
ing." This  spontaneous  giving  of  his  rich,  culti- 
vated, intense  self  was  what  made  Mr.  Dana  not 
only  the  most  brilliant  editor  of  America,  but  one  of 
the  most  lovable  and  helpful  of  men. 


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|  PARFUMERIE  Eh  PIN ^TJ J) 3r  ^al^d<le^oarg  ? 

Essence 44  Violette  Reine" 


* 
* 
* 
* 
* 
* 
* 


Queen  of  all  Violet  Perfumes. 
Host  Exquisite  and  Refined. 


IT  possesses  the  TRUE  ODOR  of  the  living  J 

flower,  something  that  has  long  been  sought  J 

for,  but  never  obtained  until  now.     LEADERS  Z 
of  Fashion  pronounce  it  the 


Finest  Violet  Perfume  in  the  World 


Roman  Perfumes 


For  the  Handkerchief 

UNUSUALLY  delicate  and  remarkably 
permanent.  Charming  Wedding,  Birth- 
day and  Holiday  Gifts  in  the  fol- 
lowing odors:  Roman  VIOLET,  Roman 
Iris,  Roman  Heliotrope,  Roman 
Rose,  Roman  Lilac,  Roman  Lily. 
Beautifully  Decorated  Boxes,  the  ap- 
propriate flower  in  each  design.  Their 
equal  has  never  yet  been  imported. 


The  Latest  and  Most 
Exquisite  Creation 

"Dauphine" 

PREPARATIONS 

Perfumes  for  the  Handkerchief 

Extra  fine  TOILET  SOAPS  in   the 

fash  tunable  odors. 
FACE  POWDERS,    three  shades: 

white,  rose  and  flesh. 
44 DAUPHINE"    LOTION,  a  most 

delightful    preparation    for    the 

Hair. 
In  packages,  the  most  beautiful  ever 

imported  ;  quality  superlative. 


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JANUARY 

Vol.  X.     Xo.  3 


PRIC 
10  CF.I 


UL 


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McClure's  Magazine. 


Vol.  X. 


JANUARY,   1898. 


No.  3. 


A    PAINTER    OF    CHILDREN— BOUTET    DE    MONVEL. 

By   Norman   Hapgood. 

Illustrated  with  Reproductions  from  Boutet  de  Monvel's  Works. 


r^VEN  in  great  art 
-*  the  originality 
which  suggests  a 
new  way  of  seeing 
the  world  is  rare. 
It  is  the  possession 
of  this  one  quality, 
above  all  others, 
which  makes  Mau- 
rice Boutet  de  Mon- 
!  vel  stand  out,  with 
a  few  of  his  con- 
temporaries,      from 


the  army  of  artists,  more  or  less  slaves  of 
tradition  following  in  the  footsteps  of  their 
masters.  It  is  this  quality  which  makes 
the  work  of  De  Monvel  appreciated  wher- 
ever he  is  known.  Here  is  a  man  who 
belongs  to  no  school,  who  does  not  ex- 
ploit his  tools,  who  speaks  for  the  people 
because  he  picks  out  things  to  represent 
that  are  not  obvious,  and  yet  which,  when 
seen,  are  of  interest  alike  to  the  simple 
and  the  philosopher,  to  the  most  civilized 
man  as  to  the  child. 

Another  attainment  even   more  rare  in 


Copyright,  1897,  by  the  S.  S.  McClure  Co.    All  rights  reserved. 

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198  A   PAINTER   OF  CHILDREN— BOUTET  DE  MONVEL. 

the  history  of  art 
is  the  successful 
rendering  of  child 
life.  The  adult 
usually  draws 
children  indis- 
criminately, see- 
ing them  as  a 
mass  of  little 
creatures  much 
alike,  or  else  no- 
ticing them  for 
the  light  they 
throw  on  our 
lives.  Philoso- 
phers would  say 
that  our  attitude 
towards  them 
was  subjective. 
We  call  them 
sweet,  or  cunning, 
or  something  else 
that  describes  the 
way  they  make  us 
feel,  not  the  way 
they  themselves 
feel  and  think. 
Yet  a  child  is  an 
independent  be- 
ing, and  the  effect 
it  has  on  us  is  an 
unimportant  ele- 
ment in  its  own 
life.  The  artists, 
whether  poets, 
novelists,  paint- 
ers, or  sculptors, 
who  have  given 
the  life  of  a  child 
from  the  inside 
could  almost  be 
counted  on  one 
hand.  These 
prevailing  exter- 
nal views  grow 
naturally  out  of 
the  two  facts  that 
we  cannot  re- 
member what  the 
world  was  to  us, 
and  that  the  audi- 
ence for  which  we 
speak  is  grown. 
In  the  fable  the 
lion  explains  the 
victories  of  men 
over  beasts  in 
literature  by  the 
statement  that 
the  men  write  all 
portraits.  the   books.     Per- 

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PORTRAIT  OF  THK   DAUGHTER   OF   REGANS. 

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A   PAINTER   OF  CHILDREN— BOUTET  DE  MONVEL. 


From  "  La  Mist' en  Loire  "  in  "  Vieiltes  Chansons." 


haps  Robert  Louis  Stevenson 
thought  of  this  fable  when 
he  wrote  "A  Child's  Garden 
of  Verses,"  in  which  the  mind 
of  the  child  has  at  least  an 
equal  expression  with  the  mind 
of  his  older  and  sophisticated 
observer.  The  mingling  of 
the  two  points  of  view  prom- 
ises to  be  the  modern  spirit. 

Boutet  de  Monvel,  although 
he  is  in  part  a  man  of  age  and 
experience,     the    head    of     a 
household,  with  a  place  in  the 
world  which  he  sustains  with 
dignity  and  takes  to  heart  seri- 
ously,   amusing    himself    with 
the   child's   ingenuousness,  is 
also  one  who  understands  and 
whose  talent  is  particularly 
fit  to  depict  the  clr1  J 
as     an    independi 
creature  with  a  life 
its  own.    His  children  are  genuin 
childish,    with  no   admixture 
of  adult  quality.     The  earlier 
artists  gave  often  the  physical 
attributes   of  babyhood,  but    . 
they  put  in  the  baby  body  the 
soul  of  a  man,  or  no  soul  at 
all.     In  the  old  religious  pic- 
tures the  child  may  show  divin- 
ity,  spirituality,   in   his   face, 
but  he  does  not  show  infantile 
thoughts.    He  was  not  treated 
psychologically.     Delia  Rob- 
bia   boys   might    walk,    their 
forms  are   so  real.     We  also 
know  their  personalities;  each 
one  of  them  is  an  individual 
child,  and  Delia  Robbia  is  an 
exception  among  the  masters.        Froi 
But  it  is  more  than  pitiful,  it 
is  irritating,  to  see  in  all  the 
galleries  of  Italy  those  little  forms  with 
the  heads  of  clever,  knowing  old  people, 
with  eyes  full  of  wisdom  and  worldliness. 
So  the  hearty  baby  bodies  in  the  pictures 
of  Rubens  have  no  sign  of  as  many  dif- 


ferent natures  as  there  are  in 
the  distinct  men  and  women  of 
the  same  paintings.  Most 
great  dramatic  artists,  realiz- 
ing instinctively  that  men  do 
not  see  children  from  the  in- 
side, have  kept  them  out  of 
their  works.  In  all  of  Shakes- 
peare's plays  there  is  no  child 
who  counts  for  much;  and  in 
all  great  drama,  perhaps,  the 
one  child  who  is  famous  is  the 
Joas  of  Racine. 

In  a  sense,  at   least,  as  the 
artist    himself   thinks,    it    was 
accident  that  led  De  Monvel 
to  a  field  so  far  removed  from 
the  interests  of  strong  artists; 
but    when     hazard     led    him 
there,  little  time  was  needed 
show  him    how  to 
it.      If  he  was   to 
w    children,    he 
t   draw    them   with    the   reality 
with  which  he  had  always  seen 
their  elders.    He  must  give  us 
not  only  the  charm  of  their 
fragility  and  innocence,  but, 
if  not  the  revelation,  at  least  a 
clear  suggestion,  of  what  they 
feel.     Whether  or  not  chance 
influenced  his  choice  of  sub- 
jects, the  world  is  the  gainer. 
Young    persons    are    usually- 
bored  by  the  child;  they  meet 
him  and  pass  him  by;  but  old 
people  notice  him.     The  more 
experience  a  man  gains  and 
digests  the  simpler  his  interest 
becomes;  complexities  in  the 
end   appear   trivial,   and    the 
elementary   things    are    seen 
as  the  elemental  and  impor- 
tant ones.    De  Monvel  reached 
such  a  spirit  younger  than  most  men  do. 
He  always  had  a  marked  element  of  sane 
and  serious  reality  in  him,  and  nature  al- 
lowed him  to  begin  where  most  of  us  are 
landed  when  love   and   sorrow,   suffering 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


r    Citi/*//  Pu  trite   et 
Honnete." 


A  PAINTER   OF  CHILDREN— BOUTET  DE  MONVEL. 


201 


a  Mis  I' en  Laire,"  in  "  Vieilles  Chansons." 


only 


and   change,   have   taught    us 
to  see  the  big,  significant  out- 
lines.    His   fortune  from   the 
beginning  was  to    see    funda- 
mentals, and  experience  taught 
him  to  depict  what  he  saw  with 
means  as  simple  and  choice  as 
his  vision.     A  few  lines,  a  few 
dots,  make  a  face.     There  is 
no  smartness  of  presentation, 
there  is  only  a  meaning,  and 
nothing  to  obscure  the  mean- 
ing.     As   in  all  true  art,   his 
technical    processes    are    not 
obtruded,  and  will  be  seen  only 
by  those  who  look  for  them; 
while   the   things   represented 
are  patent  to  all.     For  such  a 
nature  there  could  be  no  better 
subject  than  the  child,   for 
all  the  elements 
of    human    life 
are  in  him,  and 
elements,    out    of 
which    later   the   sifting,   ex- 
panding, and  crushing  expe- 
rience will  make  the  human 
drama. 

Boutet  de  Monvel,  choosing 
without    hesitation   art   as  a 
career,  entered  the  studio  of 
Cabanel  when  he  was  a  little 
over  twenty.     He  joined  the 
army  after  Sedan,  and  came 
out  of    his   war    experiences 
with   a    sadness    which    still 
overpowers  him  when  speak- 
ing   of   nos  malheurs.     After 
some  work   in  the   less  con- 
ventional   studio   of    Julian, 
dissatisfied    with    its   restric- 
tions, he  entered,  in  1875,  the       Fi 
studio    of     Carolus     Duran. 
Almost  immediately  the  need 
of  money  forced  him  into  illustration,  the 
field  in  which  we  know  him  best  and  in 
which   his    originality  took   such  striking 
form.      M.   de    Monvel  himself  thus    de- 
scribes the  change,  in  conversation:     "  At 


first  I  painted  pictures  like  the 

rest  of  the  painters,  and  per- 
haps I   should   be  doing  that 

still  if  I  had  not  been  driven 

to  illustration.      When   I  took 

that  up,   having  only  the  pen 

with    which    to    work,    I    was 

obliged  always   to   study    the 

difficulties  of  reproduction,  to 

do  something  that  would  come 

out    well    when    printed.      Of 

course,   I    found   out   directly 

that  I    could    not    put   in   the 

mass  of  little  things  which   I 

had    elaborated    on    my    can- 
vases.     Gradually,  through  a 

process    of     elimination     and 

selection,    I    came   to    put    in 

only   what   was    necessary   to 

give  the  character.    I  sought 

in  *»very   little    figure, 

y    group,   the    es- 

i,  and  worked  for 

alone." 

The  secret  taught  him  by 
the  difficulties  in  reproduction 
has  helped  him  in  all  that  he 
has  done.  There  is  no  unnec- 
essary detail  in  the  old  couple 
on  the  beach,  one  of  his  early 
pictures,  the  reproduction  of 
which  heads  this  article,  any 
more  than  there  is  in  the  face 
of  the  boy  bent  upon  the 
table,  on  page  202,  or  in  the 
gay  pictures  of  the  gracefully 
grotesque  and  amusing  side 
of  childhood.  His  books 
have  ranged  over  rather  a 
wide  field.  "  Old  Songs  for 
Little  Children"  (Vieilles 
Chansons  et  Rondes  pour  les 
petits  en/ants)  appeared  first. 
In  it  De  Monvel's  humor  is 
bordering    now   on    caricature 

and  now  on  comedy.     "French   Songs  for 

Little    Frenchmen"    (Chansons  de  France 

pour  les  petits Francais)  followed,  with  the 

same    gaiety,    but   with    freer  expression. 
Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


La    Cizi/ife  Puerile  et 
Honnite." 


apparent, 


202 


A   PAINTER   OF  CHILDREN— BOUTET  DE  MONVEL. 


AN    ILLUSTRATION    FROM    "  XAVlfeRB." 


A  mock  treatise  on  politeness,  " LaCivilitt 
pulrilc  et  honnitc"  brings  a  daintier,  more 
varied  atmosphere,  for  the  study  is  becom- 
ing deeper  and  the  understanding  clearer. 
The  individuals  differ  much  more;  each 
has  more  distinctness,  more  reality,  more 
charm,  the  old  men  and  the  women  as  well 


as  the  children.  The  "La  Fontaine*9  is 
a  new  development,  not  only  because  it 
brings  animals  to  the  front,  but  because  it 
shows  the  artist  making  his  effects  with  sim- 
pler touches  and  with  the  exact  meaning 
still  more  free  and  more  telling  also.  In 
stories  by  Anatole  France,  with  his  studied 

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A  PAINTER   OF  CHILDREN— BOUTET  DE  MONVEL. 

simplicity, 
De  Monvel 
found  some 
of  his  best 
inspiration  ; 
and  his  mas- 
terly little 
creat  ions 
stand  not 
simply  as 
a  graphic 
comment  on 
the  text, 
but  as  a  rev- 
elation of 
a  subject 
which       the 

writer  has  treated  only  in  a  fragmentary 
and  superficial  manner.     Before  speaking 
of  bis  later  work,  his  "  Xavilrt"  and  his 
"  Joan  of  Arc/'  we  might  try  to  find  out 
the  secret  which  De  Monvel  has  learned, 
and  which  enables  him  to  give  us  children 
in  a  fashion  so  direct  and  complete,  and 
with    such   charm  and    freshness  of   pre- 
sentation.    We  might  speak  of  the  expres- 
siveness which  lurks  in  a  little  hand  clutch- 
ing   a    dress,   in    the   angular   folds  of   a 
Sunday  frock,  in  a  slow  and  stolid  walk, 
in  a  foot  seeking  the  ground,  but  it  would 
explain   nothing.     The  one  attitude,    the 
one    expression,    is   chosen    which    has   a 
special  meaning  and  a  special  charm,  and 
that  is  all  there  is  to  it.     In  looking  at 
these   drawings   artists'    only    advantage. 
over  people  ignorant  of  art  is  that  they 
know    how  wonderful    the  thing  is,    how 
difficult  it  is  to  do  it;  but  they  are  not 
able  to  feel  or  enjoy  the  result  any  bet- 
ter.    To  draw  well,  to  color  well,  to  have 
solved  the  problem  of  lithography  in  color, 
is  simply   to   have  the   tools.      It  is   the 
freshness,  the  alertness  of   the   eye,    the 
truth  and  eagerness  of   the  mind,  which 
makes  De  Monvel  an  artist  original  from 
tl 
tl 
fi 
V 
e: 
tl 
o 
¥i 

S4 


203 


_  «. *.      1-  _    1- 


Frvtn  "  Nos  lin/ants." 

the  tender  amusement  which  they  inspire, 
but  also  to  deal  with  the  most  serious,  dra- 
matic, even  tragic  subjects,  as  shown  in 
his  two  later  works,  "  Xavftre"  and  "  Joan 
of  Arc."  Probably,  of  all  his  work,  these 
two  books  contain  his  most  ardent  feel- 
ings. The  opening  picture  of  the  "Joan 
of  Arc"  strikes  a  note  held  throughout. 
Jeanne  rides  at  the  head  of  an  army,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  a  vision,  a  sword  in  her  out- 
stretched hand;  behind  her  rush  the  living 
soldiers,  with  an  onward  motion  that 
shows  what  it  means  to  be  a  great  draughts- 
man; and  as  the  living  soldiers  press  on, 
the  very  dead,  fallen  in  battle,  break  from 
the  ground  to  follow;  their  faces  struggle 
up,  their  open  mouths  salute  the  Maid, 
they  wave  their  swords,  and,  although  they 
cannot  free  their  bodies,  their  spirits  help 
her  on  to  victory.  There  are  few  such 
noble  pictures  as  "  Xavftre"  offers,  won- 
derful revelations  of  the  French  country 
people,  sympathetic  transcripts  of  the* 
simple  life  of  humble  folk;  admirable 
pages,  where  one  feels  tha,t  everything  is 
true  to  the  best  and  the  most  serious  in 
life. 

When  De  Monvel  first  gave  us  these  col- 

—  J      :" ^d 

r- 
at 
c- 
th 
a 


-ft*. 


From  "  Filtes  et  Gar  cons.*1 

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A   PAINTER  OF  CHILDREN— BO  UTET  DE  MONVEL. 


technical  difficulty  had  been  so  compe- 
tently conquered  that  the  famous  colored 
prints  of  England  seemed  antiquated  and 
the  effects  which  the  Japanese  reached  by 
a  different  method  had  been  equaled.  But 
that  surprise  is  now  giving  way  to  admir- 
ation for  the  qualities  of  the  man  who 
inspires  the  workman.  Sentiment  is  the 
largest  ingredient  of  true  art,  as  it  is  of 
life;  and  the  sentiment  of  I)e  Monvel  in 
"Joan  of  Arc"  and  "  Xaviere "  reaches 
its  highest  purity.  In  this  last  he  ad- 
dresses himself  to  an  older  audience.  In 
"  Joan  of  Arc  "  he  meets  the  interests  of 
the  childish  reader,  but  he  expresses  him- 
self as  genuinely  in  each  book.  They 
seem  ideal  and  beautiful  dreams,  forceful 
in  drawing,  with  a  psychology  which  makes 
every  face  individual  in  a  more  com- 
plete, but  no  less  simple,  sense  than  the 
faces  in  his  lighter  works  are  real.  Notic- 
ing that  an  artist  is  making  funny  children 
or  grotesque  animals,  we  are  inclined  to 
take  him  lightly,  as  if  we  measured  genius 
by  solemnity  or  by  acres  of  paint;  but  if 
we  turn  back  to  the  more  amusing  books, 
after  being  excited  by  "  Xavttrc"  and 
"Joan  of  Arc,"  we  see  them  with  a  new 
eye.  It  is  the  same  artist  looking  into 
the  hearts  of  many  things  and  recording 
with  a  sure  hand. 

M.  de  Monvel  is  now  making  frescos 
for  the  church  which  is  building  at  Dom- 
remy,  the  birthplace  of  the  Maid  whose 
story  he  is  to  tell  again;  but  his  studio 
is  full  of  portraits  of  children  and  of 
sketches  for  illustrations.  One  series,  just 
finished,  dealing  with  the  little  peasants 
of  the  country,  is  to  be  followed  by  the 
street  boys  of  Paris.  There  is  little 
danger  that  with  his  eagerness  of  mind  De 
Monvel  runs  any  risk  of  working  one  vein 
to  death;  neither  will  he  abandon  for  his 
larger  work  the  line  in  which  he  has  been 
a  pioneer.     His  future  activities  promise 


to  be  as  full  of  variety  and  development 
as  his  past,  and  it  is  hoped  that  he  may 
devote  more  and  more  of  his  time  to 
what,  in  the  mind  of  the  best  judges,  is 
his  greatest  field.  The  painting  of  por- 
traits is  probably  the  highest  as  well  as  the 
lowest  and  most  common  achievement  of 
art.  There  have  been  many  great  portrait 
painters;  but  outside  of  Velasquez  and  a 
very  few  great  masters,  it  is  hard  to  think 
of  any  truly  good  portraits  of  children. 
An  increasing  demand  for  De  Monvel's 
portraits  of  children  has  been  the  natural 
result  of  the  popularity  of  his  illustrated 
books.  Of  course,  he  had  always  been 
making  portraits  in  his  illustrations;  he  has 
told  himself  how  hard  it  is  to  make  each 
little  figure  in  a  group  a  separate  person; 
and  all  these  constant  efforts  of  many 
years  made  the  step  to  portrait  painting 
an  easy  one.  His  portraits  have  been  as 
successful  as  his  own  fanciful  children. 
Not  only  has  he  been  able  to  give  the  ap- 
pearance of  his  sitter  with  the  certainty  and 
vividness  which  was  to  be  expected  of  him, 
but  he  has  proved  his  high  artistic  judgment 
in  the  way  which  all  accessories  are  subor- 
dinated and  yet  used  to  strengthen  the 
central  effect.  Just  as  in  the  picture 
from  "  Xavstre,"  on  page  202,  full  as  it  is 
of  objects,  table,  chairs,  window,  all  con- 
spicuously placed,  we  see,  nevertheless, 
only  the  faces,  the  attitudes,  the  light, 
all  giving  the  spirit,  the  sentiment,  the 
significance  of  the  scene;  so  in  his  por- 
traits, backgrounds  and  the  arrangement 
of  accessories  show  exquisite  tact,  and 
while  serving  their  purpose  of  putting  the 
face  and  figure  into  relief,  add,  one  might 
say,  some  side  explanations  to  the  type. 
It  is  marvelous  how  all  parts  of  the  canvas 
belong  to  the  portrait;  how  typical  acces- 
sories and  background  are  so  subtly  and 
intelligently  handled  that  one  does  not 
realize  they  are  there  at  all. 


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AN    AMERICAN    AT    KARLSBAD. 

By  Cy  Warman, 
Author  of  **  Talcs  of  an  Engineer,"  "  The  Express  Messenger/'  etc. 


KARLSBAD      in 
winter- time  is 
about  as  bleak 
and     desolate    as 
a    Western     town 
which,  after    a 
*  hard     fight     with 

weekly  papers  and 
Winchesters,  has 
lost  the  county- 
seat.    The  place 
is  not  dead:  no 
more  than  the  flowers  are  dead  that  are 
sleeping  under  the  snow  that  has  drifted 
deep  in  the  Bohmerwald.     With  the  first 
bluebird  comes  the  man  burdened  with 
a  bad  liver,  and  the  first  patient  is  fol- 
lowed closely  by  merchants  and  shop- 
keepers,    hotel     men,     and 
waiters.      There    are    mer- 
chant-tailors   from    Vienna, 
china  merchants  from  Dres- 
den, and  clockmakers  from 
Switzerland. 

All  through  the  month  of 
April  the  signs  of  life  are 
daily  increasing.  The  walks 
that  wind  about  the  many 
hills  are  being  swept  clean 
of  dead  leaves;  houses  are 
repainted;  and  the  rooms  of 
hundreds  of  hotels  and  pen- 
sions '  are   thrown   open   to 


fc^ 


admit  the  health-giving  winds  that  come 
down  from  the  low  mountains  laden  with 
the  scent  of  pine.  The  streets  are  rea- 
sonably clean,  for  few  people  live  here  in 
winter;  but  they  are  being  made  cleaner 
day  by  day,  until  the  last  day  of  April,  when 
they  are  all  flooded  and  washed  clean. 
The  iron  fences  and  railings  arc  actually 
scrubbed  by  an  army  of  women  with 
buckets  of  water  and  rags.  Other  women 
are  digging  in  the  ditches,  sawing  wood, 
or  drawing  wagons  through  the  streets. 

On  the  first  day  of  May  there  is 
a  grand  open- 
ing.    This  year 
it  was  of  es- 
pecial     impor- 
tance, as  it 
opened    to   the 
the    new    bath- 
house   Kaiserbad,    which 
cost      this      enterprising 
municipality        1,250,000 
florins,   and   is  the  finest 
bath-house  in  the  whole 
wide  world,    I  am  told.     This 
marvelous    celebration,    which 
began  with   a  military   parade 
on  the  first  day  of  the  month, 
ended  on  the  fifth  with  a  ban- 
quet   in    the    city 

a  witfr/reigkt.        ^^  caf^  at  Wn  jCn 

Monsieur   Ludwig 


ing    your    brta** 
fast, 


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AN  AMERICAN  AT  KARLSBAD. 


bidding  my  lord,  the 
well-born,     and     his 


friend    to 
feast — the 
the  city. 

Just    in 
the 


the   great 
guests  of 


sided. 

"Jim  Thompson  and   friend"  was  the 
way  we  went  on  the  register  at  Pupp's;  not 
that  Jim  wanted  to  star  his  own  signature, 
but  in  order  that  he  might  bear  the  bur- 
den of  reading  all  the  circulars  sent  to  our 
rooms,  and  receiving  the  good  father  of  the 
town,   who  always  waits  upon  "wealthy 
Americans"  and  asks  a  little  aid  for  the 
poor,  regardless  of  the  visitor's  religion. 
When  we  were  transferred  to  the  revolv- 
ing switch-board  in 
the    center    of    the 
great  lobby,  it  read. 
"  Herr  Jim  Thorn 
son,"    and   when 
appeared    on     loc 
letters  and  circula 
sent   to    us    it    w 
"Well-born   He 
Jim       Thompson 
and     sometimes 
was  even  "  My  lor 
the        well-born 
But    Jim    had    be 
so    much    amor 
titled    people  : 
Europe,  and  had 
often     read     the 
"  ads."  for  heir- 
esses, that  these 
little      mistakes 
were  no  more  to 
him    than    so, 
many  pfennigs,    i 

So,  in   time,    rt 

there       Came      a  #     ,    big,  bony  Briton*  in  knicker- 

gilt-edged  card  bakers.  .  .  . 


front  of 
orchestra  there 
was  a  narrow,  high 
throne,  a  kind  of 
cross  between  a  pul- 
pit and  a  witness- 
box,  and  from  behind 
this  little  stand  the 
speaker  spoke% 

"  It  is  a  good  idea, 
this  pulpit;    it  gives 
the     speaker     some- 
thing to  pound,  and 
does   away  with   his 
hands    at    the   same 
e,"  said  Jim,  when  the 
man     had     finished. 
_„j   lion    of    the    evening 
was  the  architect  who  had 
built  the  Kaiserbad,  and  when  he  made  his 
talk  the  men  cried  "  Hoch!  "  and  beautiful 
women  left  their  seats  to  click  glasses  with 
him.     And  the  band  played  "Under  the 
Double  Eagle,"  and  everybody  stood  up, 
and  they  were  all  very  happy,  and  I  knew 
that    the    homely   leader,    with    his    ears 
full   of  cotton,   had  made  a  hit. 

'Bohemian 
asked,  when  we 
had  all  settled 
down  and  be- 
gun to  eat  again. 
"No,  "he  said, 
with  a  half-sad 
smile.  "  I  don't 
know  the  '  Bo- 
hemian  Girl* 
from  the  *  Irish 
Washerwoman,' 
but  I  know  that 
tune:  it's  the 
national  air. 
:>uldn't  you  hear 
e  B-flat  scream 
id  wail  away  down 
e  line?  Ah!  if 
e  Austrians  had 
ayed  that  tune, 
e  Seven  Days' 
would  have  lasted 
;er." 
was  an  excellent 
»  dinner,  and  the 
lusiasm  and  patri- 
otism of  the  people 
w$r$    good    to    see. 


.    .     Tyrolese  in  green   hats 
(ritnntfd  in  feathers,    .     .    . 


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AN  AMERICAN  AT  KARLSBAD. 


207 


True,  they  have  been  buf 
by  political  waves,  betwe< 
and  Austria,  for  many  ye; 
people  in  these  Bohemia 
happy,  industrious,  and 
enterprising  to  a  re- 
markable degree. 

On  the  morning  of  the 
tenth  of  May,  when  we 
went  down  to  the  Brunn 
to  drink,  a  thousand 
people  were  standing  in 
line. 

"  Reminds  me  of  the 
days  when  we  used  to 
line  up  at  the  post-office 
in  Thompsonville,,,  said 
Jim,  his  mind  going  back 
to  the  big  days  of  Col- 
orado, when  he  was 
mayor  and  silver  was  a 
dollar  ten. 

It  is  a  great  show.:  men  and  women 
from  everywhere,  with  every  disease  that 
can  possibly  be  charged  to  the  liver, 
stomach,  or  gall.  Even  nervous  people 
come  here  for  the  baths;  and  get  well,  or 
think  they  do,  which  is  the  same  thing. 
There  are  men  whose  skin  and  eyes  are 
yellow;  and  others  green  as  olives;  Ger- 
man dandies  who  walk  like  pacing  grey- 
hounds; fat  young  Germans  who  seem  to 
be  walking  on  eggs;  and  old,  gouty  Ger- 
mans who  do  not  walk  at  all,  but  shuffle. 
There  are  big,  bony  Britons  in  knicker- 
bockers, and  elderly  Englishmen  whose 
love  of  plaids  is  largely  responsible  for 
the  daily  rains  that  come  to  this  otherwise 
delightful  region.  There  are  modest 
Americans,  with  their  pretty  wives  and 
daughters;  and  other  Americans,  who  talk 
loud  in  the  lobbies  and  caf£s;  Tyrolese,  in 
green  hats  trimmed  in  feathers;  and  Polish 
Jews,  with  little  corkscrew  curls  hanging 
down  by  their  ears,  such  as  we  see  in  Je- 
rusalem. Then  there  are  a  few  stray 
Frenchmen,  walking  alone;  and  once — but 
not  more  than  once — in  a  while  a  Parisian 
lady,  and  you  know  her  by  the  charming 
cut  of  her  skirt  and  the  way  she  holds  it 
up  and  the  beautiful  dream  of  a  petticoat 
the  act  discloses.  There  are  Austrian  sol- 
diers in  long  coats,  and  officers  in  pale- 
blue  uniforms,  spurred  and  cinched  like 
the  corset-wearers  of  France. 

In  a  solid  mass  the  crowd  of  cupbearers 
move  up  and  down  in  the  great  colonnade, 
keeping  time  with  their  feet  or  hands  or 
heads  to  the  strains  of  the  band,  which 
begins  to  play  at  6.45  in  the  morning. 

By  nine  o'clock  the  springs  are  deserted, 


and  the  multitude  has  distributed  itself 
among  the  many  restaurants  and  cates  in 
the  cafion.  An  hour  later,  having  break- 
fasted lightly  on  toast  and  coffee — on  such 
toast  and  such  coffee  as  can  be  had  only 
in  Karlsbad — the  great  army  of  healthy- 
looking  invalids  lose  themselves  in  the 
hills. 

Here  comes  an  old,  old  woman,  bear- 
ing a  load  that  would  bend  the  back  of  a 
Turkish  hamal, 
followed  by  a 
landau,  wherein 
loll  the  fairest 
dames  of  Saxony; 
then  a  sausage- 
man,  whose  garlic- 
flavored  viands 
freight  the  whole 
gulch  with  their 
fumes;  and  just 
behind  him  a 
wagon  laden  with 
flowers  and  shrubs 
for  the  new  gar- 
dens of  the  Grand 
Hotel  Pupp,  and 
their  opening 
leaves  fling  such 
a  fragrance  out 
upon  the  still  air 
that  it  follows  and 
trails  far  behind, 
as  the  smoke  of  a 
locomotive  follows 
a  freight  train. 
Women  with  bas- 
kets  on  their 
backs,    filled  with 


,    a  few  stray  Frenchmen  % 
walking  alone :    .    .    . 


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AN  AMERICAN  AT  KARLSBAD. 


empty  milk-cans,  are  climbing  the  trails 
that  lead  back  to  their  respective  ranches, 
which  they  must  have  left,  their  cans  laden, 
at  early  dawn. 

The  men  are  most  polite  to  each  other, 
and   always  take  off 
their     hats    as    they 
meet  and  pass.     The 
employes  in    the  ho- 
tels do  this,  from  the 
manager   down.     In- 
deed, all  these  people 
are   almost    tiresome 
with  their  politeness. 
A  tab  le-gir  1  who 
serves  you  at  a  way-       , 
side  cafe*  to-day  will 
rush  out  to  the  middle 
of  the  street  to-mor- 
row  and    say    good-      . 
morning,  and  ask  you 
how  you  feel.     She  is 
honestly  endeavoring 
to  make  it  pleasant, 
and  is  unconsciously 
making  it  unpleasant 
for     you.        If     you 
speak  English  she  argues  that  you  may  be 
a  lord,  or,  what  to  her  and  for  her  is  bet- 
ter still,  an  American,  grand,  rich,  and  aw- 
ful; and  she  is  proud  to  show  the  proprie- 
tor or  manager  that  she  knows  you.     But 
we  should  not  complain,  for  nowhere  are 
visitors  treated  so  respectfully  and  decent- 
ly as   at   Karlsbad.     I  remember  that  the 
Blirgermeister  left   his   place  at  the  head 
of  the  table  at  the  banquet,   crossed  the 
room,  introduced  himself  to   Mr.  Thomp- 
son, touched  glasses,  and  bade  him  wel- 
come to  the  city,  and  caused  a  little  muni- 


German  Type. 


.    old,  gouty  German  i 


cipal    check-book    to  be    placed     at   the 

visitor's  elbow,  so  that  for  that  day  and 

date  he  could  order  what  he  craved,  and 

it  was  all  "on"   the  town.      Last   year, 

when  the  five  hundred  rooms  of  the  largest 

hotel     in     the     place 

were    occupied,    four 

hundred  of  the  guests 

were     Americans     or 

English.      So  you  see 

they  can  afford  to  like 

us,  and  they  do. 

One  can    live   here 
as   one    chooses — for 
one   dollar    or   ten    a 
day;   but  two   people 
can   live  comfortably 
for  five  dollars  a  day. 
The  hotels  are  good, 
and    the    service    al- 
most perfect  so  far  as 
it  relates    to   the    ho- 
tel;   but   the    service 
in    the  dining-rooms, 
cafes,  and  restaurants 
is  bad.    Many  of  these 
are     so     poorly     ar- 
ranged.    It  is  a   common  thing  to   see  a 
waiter  freighting  your  breakfast  or  dinner 
— which  is  at  midday  here — a  half  block  in 
a  pouring  rain.      The  great  trouble  is  to 
get  things  hot;  it  is  next  to   impossible. 
What   Karlsbad    needs    is    a    sanitarium, 
where  people  can  have  delicate  dishes  pre- 
pared and  served  hot.     The  stoves  are  too 
far  from  the  tables  in  most  places. 

Americans  will  find  many  funny  little 
things,  even  in  the  best  hotels.  You  can 
go  up  in  the  elevator,  but  you  cannot  come 
down.  You  can  have  writing-paper  free 
in  the  writing-room,  but  not  in  your  apart- 
ments. You  can  get  hot  milk  or  warm 
milk — but  they  will  put  butter  in  it.  You 
can  have  boiled  potatoes,  but  only  with 
caraway-seeds  and  a  fine  flavor  of  alfalfa 
in  them;  or  poached  eggs,  but  you  must 
have  them  poached  in  bouillon. 

After  a  while  you  will  get  used  to  all 
this,  and  give  up  trying  to  say  sehr  An'ss, 
and  go  way.  Forty  thousand  people  do 
this  every  year.  This  establishment  alone 
feeds  two  thousand  people  a  day;  and 
most  of  them,  I  fancy,  go  away  feeling 
very  kindly  toward  the  place  and  the  peo- 
ple. The  Germans  predominate  in  the 
month  of  May,  the  Austrians  in  June,  and 
in  July  the  French  come.  This  is  a  safe 
sandwich,  with  Austria  in  the  middle  ;  it 
keeps  France  and  Germany  from  touching. 
The  English  and  Americans  (but  not  the 
poor)  they  have  all  the  season. 


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AN  AMERICAN  AT  KARLSBAD, 


209 


The  sad-faced  consumptives  who  swarm 
round  the  health  resorts  of  Western  Amer- 
ica are  not  seen  here;  on  the  whole,  the 
people  who  come  here  look  healthy.     The 
dreadful  army  of  miserables  who  haunt  the 
grotto  at  Lourdes   are 
also    not    to    be   seen 
here.     True,  the  priests 
go  at  the  head  of  the 
procession  on  the  first 
of  May  from  spring  to 
spring,     blessing      the 
water     and     thanking 
God  for  the  goodness 
of     these      wondrous 
founts.     But  they  look 
not  for  a  miracle. 

Some  things  appear 
a  little  inconsistent,  and 
trying  on  the  waters; 
and  yet  I  know  not  that 
the  visitors  go  away 
disappointed.  For  ex- 
ample, you  will  see 
a  very  happy  married 
woman,  fat  and  forty 
or    forty-five,     and     a  Htbre* 

long,     lank,     lingering 
maiden,  the  two  quaffing  at  the  same  well, 
and  the  one  hoping  to  gain  what  the  other 
longs  to  lose. 

When  you  have  taken  rooms  at  a  hotel, 
one  of  the  employes  will  bring  you  a 
long  printed  form,  which,  if  you  fill  out, 
will  give  the  sheriff  or  any  one  interested 
in  you  a  fair  history,  the  length  of  your 
intended  stay,  your  nationality  and  busi- 
ness. This  form  goes  to  the  office  of  the 
Biirgermeister,  and  from  it  you  are  "  sized 
up"  and  assessed  in  whatever  class  you 
appear  to  belong.  Third-class  visitors  pay 
between  one  and  two  dollars  the  season; 
second,  between  two  and  three  dollars;  and 
first  class,  from  three  to  four.  Only  Ameri- 
cans are  always  rated  first  class.  They 
do  not  insist  upon  your  staying  there.  By 
filing  a  personal  protest  you  can  have 
yourself  placed  in  whatever  class  you 
claim  to  belong  in. 

And  what  becomes  of  the  tax  one  pays 
into  the  city  treasury  ? 

First,  you  have  the  use  of  the  water  for 
three  weeks  or  six  months,  and  have  also 
the  pleasure  of  hearing  good  music  while 
you  take  your  medicine  every  morning. 
Part  of  this  money  goes  to  make  and  keep 
up  the  miles  and  miles  of  beautiful  walks, 
to  plant  rare  shrubs  in  the  very  forest,  and 
to  put  boxes  in  the  trees  for  the  birds  to 
build  in,  whose  music  cheers  the  thousands 
of  strollers  who  throng  these  winding  ways. 


So,  after  all,  the  tax  one  pays  to  the 
municipality  is  very  little,  even  if  you  are 
first  class;  and,  as  nearly  every  one  leaves 
the  place  feeling  better  than  when  he  ar- 
rived, there  is  no  complaint. 

"Are  all  the  people 
cured  who  come  here?'* 
I  asked  Dr.Grtinberger, 
who  was  medical  in- 
spector in  the  district 
for  twenty  years. 

"  Not  all,"  he  said. 
"  But  all  who  take  the 
cure" — for  the  doctor 
who  examines  the  pa- 
tient will  not  allow  him 
to  take  the  water  un- 
less he  has  a  disease 
curable  by  the  Karls- 
bad treatment. 

There  are  many  doc- 
tors in  Karlsbad,  and 
they  are  largely  re- 
sponsible for  the  splen- 
did reputation  of  the 
place.  They  are  hon- 
7>/<*  est  enough  to  tell  the 

patient  to  go  away  if 
they  believe  his  disease  incurable  by  the 
use  of  the  waters.  The  waiters  in  the 
hotels  all  know  what  you  are  allowed  to 
eat;  and  when  you  ask  for  a  tempting  bit 
of  pastry  the  girl  will  shake  her  head,  smile 
pleasantly,  and  say:  "That  ish  not  gute 
for  you."  In  fact,  all  the  people  appear 
to  want  you  to  get  well  and  be  happy,  go 
away  and  eat  bad  things,  and  come  again. 


German  dandies    .    . 

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AN  AMERICAN  AT  KARLSBAD. 


Other  women  are 


dretwing  wagons  through  the  streets. 


Now,  like  many  others,  I  am  going  away ; 
and  I  have  tried  to  find  one  man  or  woman 
among  the  thousands  here  now  who  is  with- 
out faith  in  the  cure,  or  without  hope  of 
being  cured.      The  water  won't  cure   a 


stone-bruise  or  a  broken  heart,  perhaps; 
but  it  will  brace  you  up,  give  you  an 
appetite  that  will  help  your  heart  to  heal, 
and  the  stone-bruise  will  get  well  of  its 
own  accord. 


PoHsh  yews,  with  tittle  corkscrew  curU 


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{THE  GENERAL  MANAGER'S  STORV.] 

THE    LIFE    OF   THE    RAILROAD    MAN. 

DRAWN    FROM    FIFTEEN   YEARS'   EXPERIENCE   AS    BRAKEMAN,   FIRE- 
MAN,   AND    ENGINEER. 

By  Herbert  E.  Hamblen  ("  Fred.  B.  Williams"), 
Author  of  "On  Many  Seas." 

EXPERIENCES  AND  ADVENTURES  AS  A  BRAKEMAN  IN  THE  YARD  AND 

ON  THE  ROAD. 

Illustrated  with  Drawings  from  Life  by  W.  D.  Stevens. 


0\V  little  does  the  average  pass- 
enger realize,  when  he  steps 
on  the  sumptuously  furnished 
car  and  quietly  reads  the 
newspaper  until  the  brakeman 
calls  out  his  station  and  he 
steps  off  to  go  to  his  family 
or  his  business,  that  his  train  has  been 
under  the  keen  supervision  of  an  army  of 
trained  officials  and  employees  during 
every  minute  of  its  progress;  that  its  ar- 
rival at,  and  departure  from,  each  station 
has  been  ticked  over  the  wire  to  the  train 
despatcher;  that  all  meeting-points  with 
other  trains  have  been  carefully  prepared 
for;  that  rules  and  orders  have  been  issued 
providing  for  every  possible  contingency; 
that,  in  fact,  as  an  old  railroad  man  said 
to  me  once,  "  if  everybody  obeyed  orders, 
collisions  would  be  possible  only  when 
brought  about  by  Unavoidable  accidents!  " 
These  men  are  carefully  chosen,  and 
only  long  and  faithful  service,  a  strictly 
first-class  moral  character,  and  undoubted 
ability  to  perform  the  duties  of  the  posi- 
tion will  insure  their  promotion  to  the 
higher  offices  or  their  retention  in  them. 

Promotion  on  a  railroad  is  slow,  and  for 
merit  only. 

MY   FIRST   JOB. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  young  man;  "  I 
am  the  yardmaster  here,  and  as  I  am  rather 
short  of  brakemen  and  you  appear  to  be 
a  likely  young  fellow,  I  will  give  you  a 
job.  Keep  your  eyes  and  ears  open; 
obey  orders  strictly,  whether  you  can  or 
not,  and" — here  he  grabbed  me  by  the 
arm  and  pulled  me  back  just  as  I  was 
about  to  step  directly  in  front  of  a  rapidly 
approaching  car  which  an  engine  had 
kicked  in  on  that  track  and  which  would 
certainly  have  put  an  end  to  my  railroading 


there  and  then — "  be  careful  never,  under 
any  circumstances,  no  matter  how  big  a 
hurry  you  are  in,  to  step  upon  a  railroad 
track  anywhere,  without  first  looking  both 
ways;  and  if  you  see  anything  approaching 
near  enough,  so  that  there  is  any  doubt 
about  your  being  able  to  cross  in  perfect 
safety  at  an  ordinary  walk,  don't  go;  al- 
ways give  everything  on  wheels  the  right 
of  way." 

I  have  remembered  and  followed  that 
rule  to  this  day,  even  in  the  city  streets, 
and  to  it  I  attribute  in  a  great  measure  the 
fact  that  I  am  alive  yet. 

"When  will  you  be  ready  to  go  to 
work?"  asked  the  yardmaster.  I  told 
him,  "Right  away."  "All  right,"  said 
he,  and  then,  looking  at  his  watch: 

"Well,  I  don't  know  but  that  you  had 
better  get  your  dinner  first;  it's  now 
eleven  thirty,  and  there's  no  use  of  your 
getting  killed  on  an  empty  stomach.  Do 
you  see  that  office  over  there  by  those 
green  cars  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  go  and  get  your  dinner,  and  re- 
port to  me  there  at  i  p.m.  sharp." 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  I,  "and  thank 
you  very  much  for  your  kindness." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right.  Go  along  now, 
and  be  sure  and  get  back  on  time." 

Away  I  went  to  my  hotel  for  dinner, 
highly  elated  at  my  success.  I  was  now 
indeed,  I  thought,  a  genuine  railroad 
man.  To  be  sure,  I  didn't  quite  like  all 
those  allusions  to  killing  and  maiming;  but 
I  thought  they  had  only  been  thrown  out 
to  try  my  nerve,  and  I  congratulated  my- 
self that  I  had  shown  no  sign  of  flinching. 

I  was  wrong  in  my  conjecture,  how- 
ever; for,  like  all  railroad  yards,  it  was 
more  or  less  of  a  slaughter-house,  and 
one  poor  fellow's  life  was  crushed  out  of 


Copyright,  1897,  by  Herbert  E.  Hamblen. 


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212 


MAKING  ACQUAINTANCE    WITH  THE    YARD  MEN. 


him  that  very  afternoon,  although  I 
didn't  hear  of  it  until  the  next  day,  and 
never  saw  him  at  all,  which  was  just  as 
well,  I  guess;  for  if  I  had  known  of  it  at 
the  time,  I  dare  say  I  should  have  lost 
some  of  the  nerve  I  felt  so  proud  of. 

He  was  a  car-repairer,  and  was  at  work 
between  two  cars  on  the  "dead-head." 
The  car-repairers'  signal  was  a  piece  of 
sheet  iron,  about  a  foot  square,  painted 
blue,  and  riveted  to  a  four-foot  iron  rod, 
sharpened  on  the  bottom  so  that  it  could 
be  stuck  in  a  tie  vertically. 

There  was  a  most  rigid  order  that  none 
but  a  car-repairer  should  handle  that 
signal  in  any  manner,  and  no  one  but  the 
man  that  put  it  up  must  take  it  down. 
All  cars  needing  repairs  were  run  in  on 
this  track,  and  when  the  men  were  work- 
ing on  them,  they  stuck  their  signal  in  a  tie 
ahead  of  the  last  car  put  in  and  in  plain 
sight  of  all  the  men  working  about  the  yard. 

This  was  a  notice  to  the  train  men  not 
to  touch  any  car  on  that  track,  or  to  put 
any  more  in  there,  until  the  repair  gang 
were  notified,  so  that  they  might  look  out 
for  themselves,  take  down  their  signal, 
and  put  it  up  again  outside  the  outer  car, 
as  before. 

In  this  instance,  the  signal,  carelessly 
put  up,  had  fallen  down,  and  a  conductor, 
having  a  crippled  car  to  go  in  there, 
glanced  down  the  track,  saw  no  signal  up, 
opened  the  switch,  pulled  the  coupling 
pin  on  the  crippled  car,  and  gave  his  engi- 
neer a  signal  to  kick  it  in,  which  of  course 
he  did. 

As  the  unfortunate  man  was  stooping 
over  the  drawhead  of  a  car  further  back 
when  the  kicked  car  fetched  up,  the  draw- 
head,  link,  and  all  were  driven  clear 
through  his  body. 

They  said  he  let  one  agonizing  scream 
out  of  him  and  died.  Of  course,  as  soon 
as  they  heard  him  yell,  they  ran  from  all 
directions,  but  we,  being  in  a  distant  part 
of  the  yard,  knew  nothing  of  it.  A  switch- 
rope  was  hooked  on  to  the  car  on  whose 
drawhead  he  was  impaled,  and  the  same 
engine  that  did  the  deed  pulled  it  back. 

He  was  a  poor  man,  with  the  usual  poor 
man's  blessing,  a  large  family,  so  we  made 
up  a  purse  to  bury  him,  and  the  company 
gave  his  wife  and  two  oldest  children  em- 
ployment in  the  car-cleaning  gang. 

MY    FIRST    DAY'S    WORK. 

I  reported  to  the  yardmaster  ten  minutes 
ahead  of  time.  Sticking  his  head  out  of 
the  door,  he  called  out: 


"  Hey,  Simmons!" 

A  fine,  large,  sunburned,  black-bearded 
man  appeared  in  answer  to  the  summons. 

"  Here's  a  green  man  I  want  you  to 
break  in,"  said  the  yardmaster;  "  put  him 
on  top,  and  let  him  pass  the  signal  for  a 
day  or  two  until  he  can  handle  himself." 

"  All  right,"  said  Simmons,  who  I  soon 
found  was  the  conductor  of  a  "drill," 
a  switch-engine  crew.  He  took  me  out  to 
the  engine,  and  said  to  the  engineer,  a 
grimy,  greasy  individual: 

"  Bill,  here's  a  fresh  fish  Dawson  wants 
to  break  in.  I'll  put  him  on  the  head  car 
and  let  him  pass  the  signal." 

"  All  right,"  said  Bill,  sourly. 

I  was  then  told  to  mount  the  car  next 
the  engine  and  repeat  the  signals  of  the 
man  in  the  middle  of  the  train  to  the  en- 
gineer. 

That  seemed  simple  enough,  but  I 
hadn't  been  doing  it  more  than  ten  min- 
utes when  the  engine  stopped  and  Bill 
called  out: 

"  Hey!  Hey!  you  there,  dominie,  par- 
son ! ' ' 

Seeing  that  he  was  addressing  his  re- 
marks to  me  and  not  liking  the  imperti- 
nence of  such  a  disreputable-looking  indi- 
vidual, I  said: 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  Are  you  talking  to 
me?" 

"  Yes,  I'm  talkin'  to  you;  an'  ye  better 
keep  a  civil  tongue  in  yer  head,  I  tell  ye. 
What  kind  of  a  signal  is  that  ye're  givin' 
me  ?  Wha'  d'ye  want  me  ter  do,  any- 
way ? " 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  do  anything,  and 
I  don't  care  what  you  do.  I'm  giving  you 
the  signal  just  as  I  get  it." 

"  No,  ye  hain't  nuther,  an'  don't  ye 
give  me  no  back  talk.  Say,  where  do 
you  come  from  ?  " 

"  I  am  from  Walton,"  said  I. 

"Sho!  I  thought  so — another  Walton 
punkin  husker.  Say,  Simmons,  take  this 
blamed  ornament  o'  yours  down  off  o' 
here,  an'  give  me  a  man  that  knows  one 
signal  from  another,  or  I'll  smash  all  the 
cars  in  the  yard  before  night." 

Then  he  gave  the  engine  a  jerk  back 
that  nearly  threw  me  off  the  car. 

"Oh,  he's  all  right,"  said  Simmons. 
"  He's  a  little  green,  but  he'll  get  over 
that."  Then  to  me,  "  Be  careful  how  you 
pass  the  signals,  bub,  or  the  engineer 
can't  tell  what  he's  doing." 

I  told  him  I  was  giving  them  just  ex- 
actly as  the  other  man  did. 

"Well,  that's  all  right;  Bill  is  kinder 
cranky,  but  you  mustn't  mind  that." 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  FIRST  ACCIDENT. 


213 


We  hadn't 
worked  ten  min- 
utes more,  and 
my  arms  were 
beginning  to 
ache  from  the 
continuous  mo- 
tion, when  Bill 
roared  out: 

•'Say!  you 
infernal  counter- 
jumper,  will  you 
git  out  o'  the 
way,  so  I  can 
see  that  man's 
signals?  Set 
down,  fall  down, 
git  down  off  o* 
there!  You'll 
scare  the  engine 
off  the  track, 
the  way  you're 
flapping  your 
wings."  Then, 
having  occasion 
to  go  to  the 
other  end  of  the 
yard,  he  pulled 
her  wide  open, 
drenching  me 
with  soot  and 
water  from  the 
stack,     until      I 

was  a  sight  for  gods  and  men.     I  had  my 
best  clothes  on,  and  they  were  ruined. 

When  we  were  relieved  at  six  o'clock,  I 
was  tired,  dirty,  thoroughly  disgusted 
with  railroading,  and  firmly  determined 
to  quit  at  once. 

During  the  evening,  however,  I  scraped 
acquaintance  with  a  young  fellow  about 
my  own  age.  I  was  attracted  by  his  ap- 
pearance, he  seeming  to  be,  like  myself, 
"a  boy  from  home,"  although  not  as 
green  as  I  was.  When  I  told  him  I 
would  railroad  no  more,  he  said  I  was 
foolish;  he  had  been  at  it  a  year  and  liked 
it;  and  he  predicted  that  inside  of  thirty 
days  I  would  too.  He  said  he  wouldn't  go 
back  to  the  farm  for  anything. 

He  admitted  that  the  talk  I  had  heard  in 
regard  to  killing  and  maiming  was  by  no 
means  exaggerated,  but  believed  that  it 
was  largely  due  to  the  recklessness  of  the 
men  themselves,  and  he  hoped  to  escape 
the  almost  universal  fate  by  being  careful. 
Poor  fellow!  he  was  blown  from  the  top 
of  his  train  a  few  months  afterwards,  and 
found  by  the  section  gang,  frozen  stiff. 

Being  considerably  cheered  by  my  new 
friend's  advice,  I  reconsidered  my  decision, 


4  HKV  !    HKy!   YOU   THKKK,    DOMINIE,    PARSON!      .      .      .      WHAT   KIND   OP   A   SIGNAL  IS  THAT   YS'HB 

givin'  ME?" 


and  reported  for  duty  at  six  o'clock  the 
next  morning,  and  worked  all  day,  with  no 
more  thrilling  adventure  than  an  occa- 
sional cursing  from  sooty  Bill,  which, 
however,  I  soon  learned  to  disregard  en- 
tirely. 

GRIPPED    BETWEEN    TWO    CARS. 

Before  I  had  been  a  week  in  the  yard  I 
was  well  broken  in,  and  had  acquired  the 
reckless  air  which  is  the  second  stage  in 
the  greenhorn's  experience  and  is  char- 
acteristic of  the  period  before  he  gets 
hurt. 

I  delighted  in  catching  and  riding  in 
the  most  swiftly  flying  cars,  and  became 
an  expert  at  making  quick  couplings  and 
flying  switches.  Occasionally  an  old  hand 
would  say,  with  a  wise  shake  of  the  head: 
"  You'll  git  itbimeby,"  but  I  only  laughed. 

It  was  four  or  ^vt.  months  before  I 
"got  it."  I  was  making  a  coupling  one 
afternoon,  had  balanced  the  pin  in  the 
drawhead  of  the  stationary  car,  and  was 
running  along  ahead  of  the  other  holding 
up  the  link,  when  just  before  coming  to- 
gether she  left  the  track,  having  jumped  a 

Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


214 


UNDER   THE  HAND  OF  THE  COMPANY'S  DOCTOR. 


frog.  Hearing  the  racket  behind  me,  I 
sprang  to  one  side;  but  my  toe  touching 
the  top  of  the  rail  prevented  me  from  get- 
ting quite  clear.  I  was  caught  between 
the  corners  of  the  cars  as  they  came  to- 
gether, and  heard  my  ribs  cave  in,  like 
smashing  an  old  box  with  an  axe. 

The  car  stopped  just  right  to  hold  me  as 
in  a  vice.  I  nearly  fainted  with  pain  and 
from  inability  to  breathe.  Fortunately, 
Mr.  Simmons  was  watching  me,  and  with 
the  rare  presence  of  mind  due  to  long 
service,  he  called  at  once  for  the  switch- 
rope.  He  wouldn't  allow  the  engine  to 
come  back  and  couple  to  the  car  again, 
as  it  would  be  almost  sure  to  crush  out 
my  little  remaining  life.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  I  should  surely  suffocate  before  they 
got  that  switch-rope  hooked  on  to  the  side 
of  the  car,  though  I  knew  the  boys  were 
hustling  for  dear  life;  but  I  tell  you, 
when  your  breath  is  shut  off,  seconds  are 
hours.  My  head  was  bursting,  and  I  be- 
came blind;  there  was  a  terrible  roaring 
in  my  ears,  and  then  as  the  engine  settled 
back  on  the  switch-rope,  I  felt  a  life-giv- 
ing relief  as  I  fell  fainting,  but  thankful, 
into  the  arms  of  the  boys. 

I  was  carried  to  the  yardmaster's  office, 
every  step  of  the  way  the  jagged  ends  of 
my  broken  ribs  pricking  and  grating  as 
though  they  would  punch  holes  in  me,  and 
my  breath  coming  in  short,  suffocating 
gasps.  The  company's  doctor  was  sum- 
moned, a  young  fellow  fresh  from  college 
whose  necessities  compelled  him  to  accept 
the  twenty-five  dollars  a  month  which  they 
paid  for  medical  attendance  for  damaged 
employees.  He  cut  my  clothes  off,  and 
after  half  murdering  me  by  punching  and 
squeezing,  asking  all  the  time  what  I  was 
"hollering"  about,  finally  remarked: 

"  There's  nothing  much  the  matter  with 
him;  few  of  his  slats  stove  in,  that's  all." 
He  then  bandaged  me,  and  a  couple  of 
the  boys  half  carried  and  half  led  me  to 
the  boarding-house,  where  I  was  mighty 
glad  to  be,  for  I  was  pretty  well  exhausted. 

There  I  lay,  unable  to  move  without  help, 
for  six  weeks,  visited  by  the  doctor  daily 
for  a  while,  and  then  at  less  frequent  inter- 
vals; but  some  of  the  boys  were  with  me 
nearly  all  the  time.  They  kept  me  posted 
as  to  what  was  going  on  in  the  yard,  and 
cheered  me  up  greatly  by  telling  of  their 
own  various  mishaps  in  the  past.  I  found, 
to  my  surprise,  that  few  of  them  had  es- 
caped broken  bones  and  smashed  fingers, 
and  I  was  assured  that  broken  ribs  were 
nothing,  absolutely  nothing;  I  ought  to 
have  a  broken  leg  or  dislocated  shoulder 


pulled  into  place;  then  I  would  know  some- 
thing about  it. 

Their  talk  restored  my  spirits  wonder- 
fully; for  whereas  I  had  been  disconsolate 
at  the  thought  that  I  was  now  a  physical 
wreck,  fit  only  for  a  job  of  flagging  on 
some  road  crossing  at  twenty  dollars  a 
month,  I  now  found  that  the  boys  whom  I 
had  seen  racing  about  the  yard  all  day, 


DKLIGHTBD     IN     CATCHING     AND     RIDING      IN      THK     MOST 
SWIFTLY   FLYING  CARS." 


shouting,  giving  signals,  and  climbing  on 
and  off  cars,  had  nearly  all  of  them  been 
much  worse  broken  up  than  I  was,  and 
some  of  them  several  times,  yet  they  were 
apparently  as  sound  as  ever.  Even  Sim- 
mons, who  appeared  to  be  a  particularly 
fine  specimen  of  physical  manhood,  told 
me  that  he  once  fell  while  running  ahead 
of  a  car,  just  as  I  had  been  doing,  and 
twelve  cars  and  the  engine  passed  over 
him,  rolling  him  over  and  over,  breaking 
both  his  legs,  and,  as  he  said,  mixing  up 
his  insides  in  such  a  way  that  his  victuals 
didn't  do  him  much  good  for  a  year  after. 

PROMOTION    FROM  THE  YARD  TO  THE  ROAD. 

Shortly  after  my  return  to  work  Simmons 
got  one  side  of  a  new  freight  train,  and, 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


WORSHIPING    THE  ENGINEER. 


2*5 


to  my  great  delight,  took  me  with  him  on 
the  road.  I  was  not  only  glad  to  get  out 
of  the  slaughter-house  with  my  full  com- 
plement of  limbs,  but  I  was  also  pleased 
at  the  prospect  of  at  last  learning  practi- 
cal railroading,  of  which  I  had  heard  so 
much. 

We  had  a  fine  big  eight-wheel  caboose, 
right  out  of  the  paint-shop,  red  outside, 
and  green  inside.  There  were  six  bunks  in 
her,  a  row  of  lockers  on  each  side  to  sit 
on  and  keep  supplies  in,  a  stove  and  table, 
and  a  desk  for  the  conductor.  We  fur- 
nished our  own  bedding  and  cooking  uten- 
sils, and  as  Simmons  wouldn't  have  any 
but  nice  fellows  around  him,  we  had  a 
pleasant  and  comfortable  home  on  wheels. 
We  each  contributed  to  the  mess,  except 
the  flagman,  and  as  he  did  the  cooking,  he 
messed  free.  We  took  turns  cleaning  up, 
and  as  the  boys  had  good  taste,  we  soon 
had  the  car  looking  like  a  young  lady's 
boudoir.  We  had  lace  curtains  in  front  of 
the  bunks,  a  strip  of  oilcloth  on  the  floor, 
a  mat  that  the  flagman  had  "  swiped" 
from  a  sleeper,  a  canary  in  a  cage,  and  a 
dog. 

As  a  younger  man  than  I  had  been  as- 


BECAMK    AN     KXPKRT    AT    MAKING    QUICK     COUPLINGS    AND     FLYING 
SWITCHES." 


signed  to  us,  I  was  second  man,  which 
gave  me  the  head  of  the  train;  so  I  rode 
on  the  engine  and  was  the  engineer's  flag. 
I  ran  ahead  when  necessary  to  protect 
our  end,  opened  and  closed  switches,  cut 
off  and  coupled  on  the  engine,  held  the 
train  on  down  grades,  watched  out  for  the 
caboose  on  curves,  took  water,  shoveled 
down  coal  to  the  fireman,  rang  the  bell  at 


crossings,  put  on  the  blower,  oiled  the 
valves,  and  handed  the  engineer  oil-cans, 
wrenches,  and  lights  for  his  pipe. 

I  now  scraped  acquaintance  with  that 
formidable  document  the  time  table,  and 
heard  train  orders  and  the  officers  who 
issued  them  discussed  by  such  high  au- 
thorities as  conductors  and  engineers;  and 
I  listened  in  rapt  astonishment  at  the  deep 
erudition  which  they  displayed  in  handling 
these  subjects.  I  soon  learned  that  the 
officers  on  our  road  "didn't  know  noth- 
ing "  and  that  "  where  /  come  from  "  they 
would  not  have  been  allowed  to  "sit  on 
the  fence  and  watch  the  trains  go  by;" 
whereupon  I  conceived  a  great  wonder  as 
to  how  the  road  survived  under  such 
densely  incompetent  management. 

I  enjoyed  riding  on  the  engines,  as  the 
engineers  and  firemen  were  fine,  sociable 
fellows.      When    we  were    a    little    late 
and  had  a  passing-point  to  make,  the  en- 
gineer would  sometimes  say,  "  Don't  you 
set  no  brakes  goin'  down  here;  I  got  to 
git  a  gait  on  'em."     Then  when  the  train 
pitched  over  the  top  of  the  hill,  he  would 
cut  her  back  a  notch  at  a  time,  till  he  got 
her  near  the  center,  and  gradually  work 
his   throttle   out    wide   open. 
How  she  would  fly  down  hill, 
the  exhaust  a  steady  roar  out 
of  the  stack,  the  connecting- 
rods     an      undistinguishable 
blur,  the  old  girl  herself  roll- 
ing and  jumping  as  if  at  every 
revolution  she  must  leave  the 
track,  the   train    behind  half 
hid  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  and  I 
hanging  on  to  the  side  of  the 
cab  for  dear  life,  watching  out 
ahead  where  I  know^there  is 
a   sharp   reverse    curve,   and 
hoping,    oh,   so    much,    that 
he'll  shut  her  off  before  we 
get  there. 

I  watch  that  grimy  left  hand 
on  the  throttle,  for  the  prelim- 
inary swelling  of  the  muscles 
that  will  show  me  he  ib  taking 
a  grip  on  it  to  shove    it  in. 
Not  a  sign;  his  head  and  half 
his    body    are    out    the   win- 
dow; and  now  we  are  upon  it.     I  give  one 
frightened  glance  at  the  too   convenient 
ditch  where  I  surely  expect  to  land,  and 
take  a  death  grip  of  the  side  of  the  cab. 
Whang!      She   hits   the   curve,   seems  to 
upset;  I  am  nearly  flung  out  the  window 
in  spite  of  my  good  grip.     Before  she  has 
half  done  rolling  (how  do  the  springs  ever 
stand  it  ?)  she  hits  the  reverse,  and  I  am 


Digitized  by 


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2l6 


AN  ENGINEER   OF  CLEVER  DEVICES. 


torn  from  my  hold  on  the  window  and 
slammed  over  against  the  boiler;  and  hav- 
ing passed  this  most  uncomfortable  place, 
she  flies  on,  rolling  and  roaring  down  the 
mountain.  All  this  time  the  engineer  has 
n't  moved  an  eyelid,  nor  the  fireman  inter- 
rupted for  an  instant  the  steady  pen- 
dulum-like swing  of  the  fire-door  and  the 
scoop-shovel.  How  do  they  do  it  ?  Oh, 
it's  easy  after  you  get  used  to  it. 

Fifteen  minutes  afterward,  in  the  siding, 
with  switches  locked,  waiting  for  the  flyer, 
nobody  seems  to  remember  that  we  have 
done  anything  in  particular. 

At  first  I  had  considered  the  locomotive 
as  far  too  complicated  a  machine  for  me 
ever  to  understand,  but  gradually  I 
learned  its  various  parts;  and  when  I 
found  that  nearly  all  the  engineers  and 
firemen  had  risen  from  brakemen  like  my- 
self, I  took  heart  and  hoped  that  some 
day  I  might  sit  on  the  right  side,  to  be 
spoken  to  with  some  slight  deference  by 
the  officials  and  stared  at  in  open-mouthed 
admiration  by  the  small  boys  at  the  coun- 
try stations. 

TOM    RILEY'S    WAY    OF    MAKING    A    SIDING. 

Old  Tom  Riley  was  a  man  to  whom  I 
looked  up  as  the  epitome  of  railroad 
knowledge.  He  frequently  hauled  our 
train.  He  was  so  old  that  the  top  of  his 
head  was  perfectly  bald;  but  he  had  a 
great  mop  of  gray  beard,  with  a  yellowish 
streak  from  the  chin  down,  an  evidence  of 
many  years  of  tobacco-chewing  and  un- 
successful efforts  to  spit  to  windward. 

He  was  supposed  to  be  the  oldest  en- 
gineer anywhere  about,  and  said  himself 
that  his."  first  job  railroadin'  wos  wipin' 
the  donkey  engine  in  Noah's  ark."  He 
was  a  good-natured,  jolly  old  fellow,  a 
great  practical  joker,  strong  and  rough  as 
a  bear,  but  as  well  pleased  apparently 
when  the  joke  was  on  himself  as  any 
other  way.  He  had  been  so  long  at  the 
business  that  he  knew  all  sorts  of  tricks  by 
which  to  get  himself  out  of  tight  places,  so 
that  it  was  seldom  indeed  that  the  "super" 
had  the  pleasure  of  hauling  Tom  on  the 
carpet  for  a  violation  of  the  rules. 

One  night  we  were  a  little  late,  so  that 
we  barely  had  time  to  make  the  siding  for 
a  following  passenger  train;  and,  to  make 
matters  worse,  when  we  were  about  half 
way  there  Tom  said  he  smelt  something 
hot;  so  he  stopped,  and  found  his  main 
crank-pin  about  ready  to  blaze  up.  The 
oil-cup  had  stopped  feeding;  so  he  delib- 
erately took  it  out,  filled  the  hole  with  tal- 


low, screwed  in  the  cup,  called  his  flag, 
and  started  again,  very  late. 

Simmons  came  up  over  the  train  and 
said  he  guessed  he'd  leave  a  flag  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hill,  to  hold  No.  6  till  we 
got  in. 

"No,  no,"  says  old  Tom;  "don't  ye 
never  drop  off  no  flag  to  give  yourself 
away,  git  called  ter  the  office,  an'  all 
hands  git  ten  days." 

"  You  can't  get  to  the  switch  on  time," 
said  Simmons. 

"  Course  not.  I  ought  ter  be  there  in 
twenty  minutes,  an*  I'll  be  lucky  if  I  git 
there  in  twenty-five." 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  have  to  drop  off  a 
flag,  or  they'll  git  our  doghouse." 

"  Now,  here,  Simmons,  I'll  tell  ye  what 
you  do:  you  go  back  in  the  doghouse,  an' 
don't  you  see  nothin'  that's  goin'  on;  only 
git  up  in  the  cupola  an'  watch  out  good  an' 
sharp  that  yer  train  don't  break  in  two. 
I'll  git  ye  inter  the  switch  time  enough, 
so  Six'll  never  see  yer  tail  lights." 

Simmons,  knowing  his  man,  at  last 
agreed,  and  after  he  had  got  safely  housed, 
Tom  handed  me  his  long  oil-can,  and  told 
me  to  go  back  on  the  step  of  the  caboose 
and  oil  first  one  rail  and  then  the  other. 

"  Let  the  oil  run  about  a  car-length  on 
one  rail,  an'  then  do  the  same  the  other 
side;  repeat  the  dose  once,  an'  come  ahead 
agin,"  said  Tom. 

I  did  so,  and  just  as  we  were  pulling  in 
to  the  side  track,  we  heard  the  exhaust  of 
the  passenger  engine  as  she  came  clip- 
ping along  for  the  hill;  presently  we  could 
tell  by  the  sound  that  she  had  struck  the 
grade,  then — cha-cha-ch-r-r-r  cha-ch-r-r-r. 

"Oho!"  says  Tom,  "are  ye  there  ? 
Grind  away,  my  boy.  I  guess  old  Tom'll 
git  in  an'  git  the  switch  locked  before  you 
git  up  here  all  right." 

He  did,  too.  Long  before  the  passen- 
ger engine  got  by  the  oil  we  were  com- 
fortably smoking  our  pipes  in  the  switch; 
and  when  she  went  sailing  by  her  engi- 
neer shouted  something  that  we  couldn't 
catch,  but  to  which  Tom  replied: 

"  Go  ahead,  sonny;  you're  all  right." 

Next  day,  as  Tom  was  doing  a  little 
packing  in  the  roundhouse,  the  engineer 
of  Six  came  up  to  him  and  said: 

"  Riley,  was  that  you  in  Snyder's  when 
I  went  by  last  night  ?  " 

"Yes,"  says  Tom.  "A  little  late, 
wa'n't  ye  ? " 

"Late?  I  sh'd  say  so.  I  never  saw 
Snyder's  so  slippery  as  'twas  last  night. 
I  used  half  a  box  of  sand.  How'd  you 
git  there  ?  " 


Digitized  by 


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LEARNING   THE  ENGINE. 


217 


'Oh,  I  didn't  have  no  trouble/1  says 
Tom.  "  I  didn't  notice  that  'twas  any 
slipperyer'n  usual;  guess  maybe  the  pet 
cock  on  yer  pump  might  'a'  been  leakin'  a 
little  or  suthin'  an'  wet  the  rail  fer  ye." 


*  I    FELT  A    LIFE-GIVING   RELIEF   AS 


"  Mebbe  so,"  says  the  other  fellow; 
and  away  he  went  to  look  his  engine  over 
and  see  if  such  was  the  case. 

I  4I  broke  "  a  year,  and  by  that  time  was 
of  some  use.  I  could  read  the  time  table, 
discuss  train  orders,  and  knew  the  trains 
by  heart.  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
th?  engine  offered  more  opportunities  of 
advancement  than  the  caboose;  so  by  Tom 
Riley's  advice,  I  filed  an  application  with 
the  master  mechanic,  asking  for  a  position 
as  fireman.  And  though  I  must  admit  that 
he  didn't  give  me  the  slightest  encourage- 
ment, yet  the  fact  that  I  had  my  applica- 


tion on  file  made  me  feel  that  I  was  sure 
of  a  job,  and  that,  too,  at  no  very  distant 
day.    So  I  began  to  take  a  greater  interest 
than  ever  in  the  engines,  and  I  presume  I 
made  a  nuisance  of  myself  by  asking  in- 
numerable  ques- 
tions   of    the 
engineers    and 
firemen,  so  anx- 
ious    was     I    to 
learn  all  I  could 
in  regard  to  the 
machine,      for 
which,     even     to 
this  day,  I  have 
an    abiding   love 
and  respect. 

Sometimes 
when  the  train 
was  not  too 
heavy  and  the 
grade  was  favor- 
able, one  or  other 
of  the  firemen 
would  let  me 
"take  her"  for 
a  bit;  and  then 
if  I  was  able  to 
"keep  her  tail 
up,"  I  felt  my- 
self indeed  a  man 
and  never  failed 
to  let  it  be  known 
in  the  caboose 
that  I  had  fired 
on  a  certain 
stretch  of  the 
road.  But  if 
while  I  was  at 
the  shovel  she 
dropped  her  tail 
and  the  fireman 
had  to  take  her 
from  me,  I  would 
not  allude  to  that 
episode  when 
bragging  of  my 
abilities;  but  the  men  were  sure  to  hear 
of  it,  and  the  guying  I  got  fully  offset  my 
petty  triumphs. 


FELL   FAINTING,    BUT   THANKHJL,    INTU   THE  ARMS  OF  7  HE 
BOYS." 


ON    THE   ENGINE   IN    A    HEAD-ON    COLLISION. 

About  six  months  after  I  filed  my  appli- 
cation there  was  a  mistake  made  in 
orders  that  came  very  near  winding  up 
my  railroad  career  for  good.  I  did  not 
know  at  the  time  exactly  what  the  trouble 
was,  nor  can  I  say  now  positively.  Sim- 
mons and  the  engineer,  who  were  both 
discharged,  asserted  that  they  were  sacri- 


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218 


A   FORTY-MILE  GAIT   TO  DESTRUCTION. 


"  I    WATCH   THAT   GRIMY    LEFT  HAND   ON   THE   THROTTLE,    KOR 

MUSCLES,      ..." 

ficed  to  save  the  despatcher,  who  was  a 
son-in-law  of  the  president  of  the  road. 

Whoever  was  to  blame,  the  result  was 
disastrous;  for  we  met  the  train  which  we 
expected  to  pass  at  the  next  siding  in  a 
deep  cut  under  a  railroad  bridge.  Both 
trains  were  wheeling  down  under  the  bridge 
at  a  forty-mile  gait,  so  as  to  have  a  good 
headway  on  to  take  them  out  the  other 
side.  As  the  view  of  both  engineers  was 
obstructed  by  the  stone  abutments  of  the 
bridge,  neither  doubted  for  a  moment 
that  he  had  a  clear  track. 

They  met  exactly  under  the  bridge,  with 
a  shock  and  roar  that  seemed  to  shake  the 
solid  earth;  the  locomotives  reared  up 
like  horses,  the  cars  shoved  their  tenders 
under  them  in  such  a  way  as  to  jack  them 


up  and  raise 
the  bridge  off 
its  abutments; 
and  then  as  the 
cars  climbed 
on  top  of  each 
other,  they 
battered  it 
from  its  posi- 
tion until  it 
lay  nearly  at 
right  angles  to 
its  own  road, 
like  an  open 
draw,  resting 
on  top  of  the 
wreck. 

Our  conduc- 
tors sent  flags 
back  both 
ways  to  hold 
all  trains;  but 
before  the  men 
could  get  up 
the  bank  to 
flag  on  the 
cross-country 
road,  a  belated 
gravel  train 
came  hurrying 
along  and 
plumped  in  on 
top  of  us,  help- 
ing to  fill  up 
the  cut  still 
more.  Their 
engine  set  fire 
to  the  wreck, 
and  as  we  were 
some  distance 
from  a  tele- 
graph office, 
all  three  trains 
and  engines  were  entirely  consumed  before 
help  reached  us,  nothing  remaining  but 
a  tangled  and  twisted  mass  of  boilers, 
•wheels,  rods,  and  pipes,  partly  covered  by 
the  gravel  train's  load  of  sand. 

I  was  on  the  engine,  sitting  on  the  fire- 
man's seat,  looking  out  ahead.  As  it  was 
daylight,  there  was  not  even  the  glare  of 
a  head-lamp  to  give  us  the  fraction  of  a 
second's  warning,  and  our  own  engine 
made  such  a  roaring  in  the  narrow  cut  that 
we  could  hear  nothing  else.  The  first  in- 
timation we  had  of  approaching  danger 
was  when  we  saw  the  front  end  of  the 
other  locomotive  not  forty  feet  from  us. 
Neither  of  the  engineers  had  time  to  close 
their  throttles — an  act  that  is  done  instinct- 
ively on  the  first  appearance  of  danger. 


THE   PRELIMINARY    SWELLING  OF  THE 


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THE  SENSATION  OF  FACING  A  DEADLY  PERIL. 


219 


4  HSR   BNG1NEBK  SHOUTED   SOMBTHINC  THAT   WK  COULDN'T  CATCH 

YOU'RE   ALL   RIGHT.'  " 


.     TOM   REPLIED:   'GO  AHEAD,  sonny; 


I  cannot  say  that  I  was  frightened. 
Even  the  familiar  "  jumping  of  the  heart 
into  the  throat,"  which  so  well  describes 
the  sensation  usually  experienced  on  the 
sudden  discovery  of  deadly  peril,  was 
absent;  for  though  I  certainly  saw  the 
front  end  of  that  engine  as  plainly  as  I 
ever  saw  anything  in  my  life,  I  had  no 
time  to  realize  what  it  meant.  I  made  no 
move  or  effort  of  any  kind,  and  it  seemed 
that  at  the  same  instant  that  she  burst 
upon  my  view  daylight  was  shut  out  and 
I  was  drenched  with  cold  water;  yet  before 
that  happened  they  had  come  together, 
reared  up,  as  I  have  said,  and  I  had  been 
thrown  to  the  front  of  the  cab;  the  ten- 
der had  come  ahead,  staving  the  cab  to 


pieces,  thereby  dropping  me  out  on  the 
ground,  and  by  knocking  a  hole  in  itself 
against  the  back  driving-wheel  had  del- 
uged me  with  its  contents. 

The  flood  of  cold  water  caused  me, 
bewildered  as  I  was,  to  try  and  get  away 
from  it.  I  knew  I  was  under  the  wreck, 
and  for  a  few  minutes  I  could  hear  the 
cars  piling  up  and  grinding  overhead. 

I  knew  what  that  was,  too,  and  feared 
they  would  smash  the  wreck  down  on  top  of 
me  and  so  squeeze  my  life  out.  But  the 
engine  acted  as  a  fender;  for  being  jammed 
among  the  wreckage,  she  could  not  be 
pushed  over;  and  as  she  stood  on  her  rear 
wheels,  she  could  not  be  mashed  down. 

The  noise  soon  ceased,  and  then,  except 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


220 


COLLISION  UPON  COLLISION. 


for  the  sound  of  steam  escaping  from  the 
boilers,  I  could  hear  nothing.  Then  I  re- 
membered that  the  boilers  themselves  were 
a  fruitful  source  of  danger  to  me,  as  there 
might  be  a  hole  knocked  in  the  water- 
space  that  would  pour  out  a  scalding 
flood  and  boil  me  alive.  I  had  heard, 
too,  of  boilers  in  inaccessible  localities 
losing  the  water  from  about  the  furnaces, 
and  getting  the  iron  so  hot  and  soft  that 
it  would  give  out  like  wet  paper,  blowing 
up  and  scalding  any  unfortunate  who 
might  be  imprisoned  near  it.  I  knew,  too, 
that  wrecks  had  a  way  of  taking  fire  from 
the  locomotive.  These  thoughts  occurred 
to  me  much  more  rapidly  tV_n  I  could  tell 
them,  and  spurred  me  on  to  do  my  utmost 
to  get  out  of  there. 

It  was  perfectly  dark  where  I  was,  and, 
as  I  knew,  it  was  still  daylight  outside. 
This  proved  to  me  how  completely  I  was 
buried  under  the  wreck,  and  was  far  from 
reassuring.  How  could  I  ever  hope  to 
make  my  way  from  under  those  tons  of 
cars  and  engines  ?  The  only  wonder  was 
that  I  had  escaped  being  killed  instantly, 
and  for  a  few  minutes  I  felt  but  little  grati- 
tude at  having  been  spared,  only  to  be 
slowly  tortured  to  death. 

When  I  attempted  to  move  I  found 
that  as  far  as  sensation  was  concerned 
my  right  leg  ended  at  the  knee;  so  I  felt 
down  to  see  if  it  was  cut  off,  as  I  knew  it 
would  be  necessary  to  stanch  the  flow  of 
blood  in  that  case,  or  I  would  soon  die 
from  that  cause  alone.  To  my  great  joy  I 
found  that  my  leg  and  foot  were  still  with 
me,  though  how  badly  hurt  I  was  unable 
to  tell;  for  being  drenched  with  water,  the 
blood  might,  for  all  I  knew,  be  flowing 
from  many  severe  wounds. 

At  this  moment  there  was  another  crash 
and  grinding  and  splintering  overhead, 
caused  by  the  wrecking  of  the  gravel  train, 
but  which  I  attributed  to  the  explosion  of 
one  of  the  boilers.  In  this  second  wreck 
two  men  were  killed  outright,  and  the  en- 
gineer died  of  his  injuries  the  next  day; 
yet  to  it,  I  have  no  doubt,  I  owe  my  es- 
cape, for  it  disturbed  the  position  of  the 
cars,  so  that  I  perceived  a  ray  of  daylight, 
away,  as  it  seemed,  half  a  mile  ahead  of 
me.  I  exerted  myself  to  the  utmost  to 
reach  it,  and  how  far  off  it  was!  I  had  to 
work  my  way  back  under  the  wrecked  ten- 
der and  several  cars.  I  found  the  space 
under  the  tender  piled  so  full  of  coal  that 
it  was  impossible  to  pass,  yet  that  was  my 
only  way  out;  so  I  began  digging  with 
my  hands,  feverishly,  madly,  in  the  desire 
to  get  away  while  I  still  had  my  senses 


and  strength,  and  oh,  how  I  wished  then  I 
had  never  gone  railroading! 

After  digging,  as  it  seemed  for  hours, 
until  my  hands  were  raw  and  bleeding  and 
I  had  blocked  my  retreat  by  the  coal  I  had 
thrown  behind  me,  I  found  myself  con- 
fronted by  the  axle  of  the  rear  truck, 
which  stood  at  such  an  angle  as  to  posi- 
tively forbid  all  hope  of  my  ever  getting 
out  that  way. 

PENNED    UNDER    A    BURNING    WRECK. 

I  sank  down  in  despair,  realizing  that  my 
time  had  now  come,  and  here  in  this  dark 
close  hole  was  to  be  the  end  of  me.  I 
tried  to  fix  my  mind  on  such  thoughts  as 
I  knew  were  appropriate  to  the  occasion, 
but  my  leg  was  so  painful  that  I  could 
think  of  nothing  else.  Then  a  numbness 
came  over  me,  and  I  seemed  to  be  falling 
into  a  kind  of  stupor,  broken  frequently 
by  the  twinges  of  pain  from  my  leg,  when 
my  nostrils  were  greeted  by  a  faint  odor 
of  wood  smoke,  and  my  heart  was  thrilled 
with  a  new  terror  that  urged  me  to  make 
one  more  desperate  effort  to  escape.  The 
wreck  was  on  fire,  and  though  I  might 
have  resigned  myself  to  lie  still  and  die,  I 
could  not  endure  the  thought  of  being 
roasted  alive;  so  again  made  desperate  by 
great  fear,  I  dug  my  bleeding  hands  into 
the  coal,  and  commenced  to  burrow  like 
a  woodchuck  in  the  direction  where  I  could 
see  that  the  truck  was  elevated  highest 
above  the  rail,  and  to  my  great  joy  I  soon 
found  that  the  coal  pile  extended  but  a 
short  distance  in  that  direction. 

It  wasn't  long  before  I  had  crawled 
under  the  truck,  which  had  been  raised 
from  the  ground  by  the  corner  of  a  car, 
and  was  making  fairly  good  progress 
among  the  tangle  of  wheels,  axles,  and 
brake-gear,  in  the  direction  of  the  ray  of 
light  which  had  first  attracted  my  atten- 
tion. I  found  it  came  down  by  a  very 
small,  crooked,  and  much-obstructed  pas- 
sage through  the  debris  of  broken  cars 
above  my  head — a  passage  entirely  too 
small  for  me  to  get  through  and  which  I 
could  never  hope  to  enlarge  myself..  The 
smoke  was  now  suffocating,  and  it  was 
only  at  longer  and  longer  intervals  that  I 
could  catch  my  breath.  I  had  not  as  yet 
felt  the  heat  of  the  fire;  but  when  I  looked 
up  through  the  narrow  opening  above  me, 
I  could  see,  in  the  flying  clouds  of  smoke, 
sparks  and  small  firebrands,  which  told  me 
that  the  wind  was  blowing  in  my  direction, 
which  induced  me  to  make  the  most  fran- 
tic efforts  to  escape.     I  might  as  well  have 


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A   DESPERATE  CRY  FOR  HELP,  221 

tried  to  lift  the  ponderous  locomotive  as  thinking  these    desperate   thoughts,    and 

to  move  the  tightly-wedged  wreckage  that  waiting,    I    presume,    until    my   position 

imprisoned  me;   and  as  I  glanced  at  the  should    become     absolutely     unbearable, 

little  patch  of  blue  sky,  now  nearly  blotted  when  I  saw  a  man  step  across  my  little 


*»THB  LOCOMOTIVES  REARED  UP  LIKE  HORSES,  THE  CARS  SHOVED  THEIR  TENDERS  UNDER  THEM  IN  SUCH  A  WAY  AS  TO 
.  .  .  RAISE  THE  BRIDGE  OFF  ITS  ABUTMENTS;  .  .  .  AND  THEN  ...  A  BELATED  GRAVEL  TRAIN  CAME  .  .  . 
AND   FLUMPED   IN   ON   TOP  OF   US." 


out  in  black  smoke,  an  agonizing  sense  of 
my  desperate  situation  filled  my  mind. 

I  opened  my  pocket-knife — it  wasn't 
very  sharp,  but  still  it  might  serve  me  at  a 
pinch;  how  much  better  to  open  an  artery 
and  quietly  pass  away  than  to  be  suffo- 
cated by  smoke  or  roasted  by  fire!     I  sat 


glimpse  of  light.  Having,  fortunately, 
just  refreshed  myself  by  a  breath  of  fresh 
air,  I  let  a  desperate  yell  out  of  me,  and 
saw  him  stop  and  look  all  around,  as 
though  saying  to  himself,  "  What  was 
that?"  "Here!  here!  "  I  shouted;  "  right 
down  in  this  hole  under  your  feet!  "     He 

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A   BLIND  DASH  THROUGH  FLAMES. 


looked  down,  and  I  recognized  him  as  a 
brakeman  by  the  name  of  Ben  Shaw,  be- 
longing to  the  other  train.  "  Is  there  any- 
body down  there?"  he  asked.  "  Yes," 
said  I;  "and  for  God's  sake  hurry  up; 
get  men  and  axes  and  cut  me  out;  I  am 
nearly  smothered,  and  can't  stand  it  much 
longer." 

"Ail  right,"  said  he;  "I'll  see  what 
we  can  do;  but  I  don't  believe  we  can  get 
you  out,  for  the  fire  is  coming  this  way 
awful  fast." 

He  disappeared,  but  I  could  hear  him 
shouting  as  he  went,  and  soon — though  it 
seemed  long  enough  to  me — he  returned 
with  others,  armed  with  fence  stakes  and 
wrecking-axes,  and  they  fell  to  with  a  will, 
prying  and  chopping  at  the  obstruction. 
On  account  of  the  smoke  and  heat,  which 
was  now  almost  unbearable  down  where  I 
lay,  they  were  unable  to  work  more  than 
three  or  four  minutes,  when  they  would  be 
driven  away,  gasping  for  breath,  so  that 
not  one  blow  out  of  three  was  effective. 
A  chance  blow  with  an  axe  loosened  a 
large  section  of  the  side  of  a  car,  which 
fell  over,  one  corner  striking  me  a  severe 
blow  on  the  head,  cutting  the  scalp,  and 
nearly  knocking  me  senseless.  While  ap- 
parently^ ^opening  the  way,  in  reality  it 
closed  it,  for  it  fell  in  such  a  manner  that 
if  I  had  been  above  it  I  could  easily  have 
got  out,  but  now  I  was  completely  covered 
in.  It  contained  the  door  of  the  car, 
however,  which  was  open  a  few  inches,  and 
if  I  could  only  pry  that  door  back  a  little 
more,  I  should  be  able  to  get  through. 
The  question  of  life  or  death  to  me  now 
was,  could  I  do  that  ? 

I  heard  Summons's  voice,  interrupted  by 
violent  coughing  and  sneezing,  say, 
"  How's  that  ?     Can  you  get  out  now?" 

"No,"  said  I;  "you'll  have  to  come 
down  in  the  hole  and  clear  away  the  door." 

"Can't  do  it;  we  can't  stay  here  an- 
other minute;  but  I'll  throw  you  down 
these  stakes,  and  maybe  you  can  help 
yourself.  Good-by,  old  man;  I'm  awful 
sorry  for  you."  Then  there  was  *a  clat- 
tering that  told  me  he  had  thrown  down 
the  stakes  as  he  said  he  would. 

My  eyes  were  so  blinded  by  the  pungent 
wood  smoke,  and  I  was  so  nearly  suffo- 
cated, that  I  had  but  little  strength  left. 
One  of  the  stakes  lay  right  across  the 
slight  opening  in  the  door,  and  in  trying  to 
turn  it  to  pull  it  through  I  found  I  didn't 
need  it,  as  the  door  moved  freely  in  its 
grooves. 

I  quickly  pushed  the  door  back,  and,  by 
a  great  effort  of  will  and  my  slight  remain- 


ing strength,  dragged  myself  through  the 
aperture.  I  wasn't  out  yet,  though,  for 
overhead  there  was  a  solid  sheet  of  flame, 
roaring  in  the  wind  like  a  furnace  and 
completely  covering  my  exit.  Although 
still  drenched  with  water,  I  could  feel  my 
hair  curling  with  the  intense  heat. 

There  was  one  course  and  one  only 
open  to  me;  so  taking  as  long  a  breath 
as  I  could,  I  shut  my  eyes  and  made  a  dive 
for  liberty.  I  scrambled  upward  and  out- 
ward, now  burning  my  hands  by  contact 
with  hot  iron,  and  again  tearing  them  on 
the  jagged  ends  of  broken  wood,  my 
head  fairly  bursting  with  the  heat  and  sup- 
pressed respiration.  Suddenly  I  stepped 
forward  upon  nothing;  having  no  hold 
with  my  hands,  I  fell,  struck  on  my  side, 
rebounded,  and  fell  again,  down,  down — I 
could  have  sworn  for  miles — and  then 
unconsciousness  came  over  me. 

It  seems  that  when  I  got  out  of  the 
hole  I  rushed  blindly  off  the  end  of  a 
blazing  car,  piled  high  in  the  wreck,  and 
in  falling  I  struck  on  various  projections 
of  the  wreckage,  tearing  off  nearly  all 
my  clothing,  which  was  a  providence,  as 
I  was  all  ablaze,  and  finally  brought  up 
with  a  dull  thud,  as  the  reporters  say,  on 
solid  ground,  shaking  and  bruising  myself 
dreadfully,  but  almost  miraculously  break- 
ing no  bones,  though  I  had  fallen  from  a 
height  of  thirty  feet. 

My  leg,  which  had  hindered  me  so 
much,  was  merely  bruised  and  crushed, 
but  was  as  black  as  your  hat  for  a  long 
time,  and  I  was  as  bald  as  the  day  I  was 
born. 

It  was  assumed  that  I  was  dead,  but 
kind  hands  extinguished  the  fire  in  my  few 
remaining  rags,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
signs  of  life  were  discovered  in  the  bruised 
and  blackened  object. 

I  was  carried  to  a  nearby  farmhouse,  and 
kindly  cared  for  until  the  wrecking-train 
returned  to  town,  when  I  was  sent  to 
hospital. 

Our  engineer  escaped  without  a  scratch, 
but  how  he  never  knew;  for  all  he  could 
remember  was,  that  he  was  looking  right 
at  the  number  plate  of  the  approaching 
engine  and  at  the  same  time  falling  heels 
over  head  up  the  side  of  the  cut.  Of  our 
fireman  not  a  trace  was  ever  found,  and 
as  I  heard  nothing  of  him  while  under  the 
wreck,  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  was  in- 
stantly killed  and  his  body  burnt  up. 

On  the  other  engine  the  whole  crew, 
engineer,  fireman,  and  head  brakeman, 
perished,  and  were  consumed  in  the  fierce 
flames  that  devoured  the  wreck  and  made 


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THE  CORONER  AND    THE  COMPANY'S  LAWYER.  223 

a  blast  furnace  of  the  narrow  cut.  We  stated  the  same  passing-point,  and  the 
could  only  hope  that  they  had  been  mer-  company's  witnesses  all  swore  they  did; 
cifully  killed  at  once,  and  not  slowly  they  even  produced  the  operator's  copy, 
roasted  alive,  as  so  many  have  been,  and  with  Simmons's  signature  attached,  in 
will  continue  to  be  while  railroads  exist.       proof.     Simmons  swore  the  signature  was 

forged;  but  as  it  corresponded  with  others 
manufacturing  testimony  for  the       wJ?ich  they  Produced  on    former   orders, 
company  tms  statenrent  had  but  little  effect. 

Both  Simmons  and  the  engineer  swore 

I  remained  in  hospital    about  a  week,    that   their   orders    read    "Daly's;"     the 

during  which  time  both  the  coroner  and    flagman   stated  that   Simmons   invariably 

read  the  orders 
to  him,  asked 
him  how  he  un- 
derstood them, 
explained  them 
if  necessary, 
and  then  filed 
them  on  a  hook 
in  the  caboose, 
where  they  re- 
mained open  to 
inspection  until 
fulfilled,  when 
he  put  them  in 
his  desk,  to  be 
returned  to  the 
train-despatcher 
at  the  end  of 
the  trip;  he  also 
swore  that  our 
order  read 
"Daly's."  The 
engineer  said  he 
always  read  his 
copy  of  all  orders 
to  the  conduc- 
tor, to  be  sure 
they  understood 
them  alike;  he 
then  filed  them 
on  a  hook  in  the 
cab,    and    when 

"IT    WASN'T    LONG     BEFORE   I    HAD    CRAWLED     UNDER    THE    TRUCK,      .      .      .      AND     WAS    MAKING  *"C         ftOOK  W3S 

FAIRLY  GOOD   PROGRESS     ...      IN  THE  DIRECTION   OF  THE   RAY   OF   LIGHT     ..."  full     tllTeW      them 

in  the  firebox, 

the  company's  lawyer  took    my  affidavit  Asked  by  the  company's  attorney  if  he 

as  to  what  I  knew  of  the  orders  by  which  made  a  practice  of  reading  his  orders  to 

we  were  running.     I  knew  nothing  about  the  fireman  and  head  brakeman,  he  said  no; 

them,  but  I  observed  that  the  company's  but  if  they  asked  what  the  orders  were,  he 

attorney  appeared  anxious  to  have  me  re-  told  them,  and  gave  them  any  information 

member   having   heard    that  we  were   to  they  asked  for.      For  this  neglect  to  read 

meet  and  pass  train  31  at  Brookdale  and  orders  to  every  man  within  reach  he  was 

appeared  very  much    disappointed    when  severely  censured  by  both  the  lawyer  and 

I  was  unable  to  do  so.  the  coroner,  although  there  was  no  rule 

Brookdale  was  the  last  switch  that  we  requiring  him  to  do  so.      "  For,"  said  the 

passed    before    the    collision.        It     was  lawyer,   *  'if   you   had   done   so,    probably 

claimed    by  the  company,    and   admitted  some  of  those  men   might  not  have  been 

by  the  conductor  of  train  31,   that  their  quite  so  pigheaded  as  you  are,  and  would 

orders  read,  "  Meet  and  pass  train  28  at  have  remembered  that  Brookdale  was  your 

Brookdale."      Our    orders    should    have  meeting-point." 

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SEEKING  PROMOTION. 


The  engineer  replied  that  he  now  wished 
he  had,  as  in  that  case  he  would  have  had 
at  least  one  witness  (me)  to  prove  that  the 
despatch     was  to  blame  for  the  wreck. 

As  the  conductor's  and  the  engineer's 
copies  had  been  destroyed  in  the  fire,  and 
as  the  majority  of  the  evidence  was  against 
them,  the  coroner's  jury  censured  them 
for  the  wreck,  and  they  were  indicted  by 
the  grand  jury  for  manslaughter. 

During  the  time  that  elapsed  between 
the  indictment  and  the  trial  the  operator 
who  received  the  order  and  swore  that  it 
read  "  Brookdale  "  was  transferred  from 
his  little  station  in  the  woods  to  the  best 
paying  station  on  the  road,  and  the  con- 
ductor of  train  31  was  promoted,  over  the 
heads  of  half  a  dozen  older  men,  to  a 
first-class  passenger  train.  By  these  ap- 
parent acts  of  bribery  public  opinion  be- 
came so  biased  against  the  company  that 
the  defendants'  lawyer  easily  procured  an 
acquittal,  which  threw  the  responsibility 
upon  the  company,  and  the  suits  for  dam- 
ages which  ensued,  with  their  rapidly 
accumulating  costs,  finally  bankrupted 
it. 

About  a  week  after  I  left  the  hospital, 
as  I  felt  able  to  return  to  work  I  resolved 
to  apply  again  for  a  fireman's  position, 
knowing  that  a  vacancy  existed,  owing  to 
the  death  of  the  man  on  train  31.  I 
called  on  the  master  mechanic,  whom  I 
found  alone  in  his  office,  and  asked  respect- 
fully if  he  would  give  me  the  vacant  place, 
reminding  him  that  my  application  had 
been  on  file  for  some  time. 

He  was  writing,  and,  without  even  look- 
ing up,  answered,  "  No,"  and  that  was  all 
I  could  get  out  of  him,  though  I  tried  to 
find  out  why  he  wouldn't  appoint  me  and 
when  I  might  expect  him  to  do  so.  Feel- 
ing deeply  disappointed  and  not  a  little 
hurt  at  the  manner  of  my  reception,  I 
walked  out,  and  strolled  over  to  the  round- 
house, to  have  a  look  at  the  engines  which 
had  all  at  once  become  so  unattainable  to 
me. 

I  had  taken  a  great  interest  in  the  en- 
gines. It  was  a  promotion,  a  step  higher, 
to  which  I  had  looked  forward  with  great 
eagerness,  and  now  to  have  all  my  hopes 
dashed  at  once,  and  for  no  cause  that  I 
could  see,  was  very  discouraging. 

I  espied  Tom  Riley  at  work  on  his  en- 
gine, and  stated  my  case  to  him,  asking 
what  I  could  do  now  that  the  master  me- 
chanic had  dashed  my  hopes.  I  told  him 
how  anxious  I  was  to  get  on  the  left  side 
of  the  locomotive,  and  begged  the  veteran 
for  advice.      He   listened   to   my  tale   of 


woe   patiently,    and   appeared   interested. 
When  I  finished,  he  said: 

"  I'll  tell  you  where  you  made  the  mis- 
take, boy." 

"  Where  ?  "  said  I,  anxiously. 

"  In  goin'  to  that  long,  starved-to-death, 
white-livered  hound  of  a  master  mechanic, 
an'  askin'  him  for  anything.  Don't  ye 
know  there's  only  one  thing  he  delights  in 
more'n  another,  an'  that  is  hearin*  that  a 
man  wasn't  killed  in  a  wreck,  so  he  cac 
discharge  him  when  he  gits  back  ?  I  teli 
you,  boy,  you  have  done  the  only  thing 
you  could  do  to  please  him  to-day,  an' 
that  is,  you  gave  him  a  chance  to  refuse 
you  somethin'.  But  'tain't  you  he's 
pleased  with,  it's  himself;  so  his  pleasure 
won't  do  you  no  good,  an'  don't  you  de- 
lude yerself  with  the  idee  that  'twill.  Do 
you  know  what  he's  doin'  now  ?  Wal,  I'll 
tell  you;  he's  got  two  vacancies  to  fill: 
one  is  that  of  the  fireman  who  was  killed, 
an'  the  other  the  engineer  who  was  dis- 
charged for  not  gittin'  killed;  an'  now 
he's  puzzlin'  his  brains  to  find  somebody 
that  don't  want  either  of  them  jobs,  but 
that  is  in  his  power,  so  he  can  make  'em 
take  'em  agin  their  will.  If  you  had  gone 
into  his  office  this  mornin',  rippin*  an'  rav- 
in', an'  said,  *  See  here,  I've  heard  that  yoa 
was  agoin'  to  appoint  me  to  the  vacancv 
caused  by  the  death  of  Pete  Russell,  an' 
I've  come  in  to  let  you  know  that  I  dont 
want  it  an'  won't  have  it  under  no  consid- 
eration an'  I  wouldn't  work  in  your  depart- 
ment for  ten  dollars  a  day' — if  you'd 
talked  to  him  like  that,  he  would  have  ap- 
pointed you,  an'  made  you  take  it  too; 
but  now,  of  course,  it's  too  late.  The 
trouble  with  you  young  fellers  is,  that 
you've  got  so  much  infernal  conceit  you 
think  you  know  it  all;  so  you  won't  ask 
the  advice  of  an  old  fool  till  you  git 
stuck;  then  after  you've  made  a  complete 
mess  of  the  whole  business,  then  you  come 
a-whinin'  an'  a-cryin'  round,  an'  it's,  'Oh. 
Tom,  what  shall  I  do  now?'  Well,  I'll 
tell  you,  the  only  thing  you  can  do  now  i> 
to  go  to  the  super;  tell  him  jest  how  the 
case  stands,  an'  mebbe  he'll  make  the 
master  mechanic  app'int  ye,  an'  prob'iv 
he  won't;  anyhow,  that's  your  on!v 
chance.  An'  say,  ye  can  tell  him  that  ve 
are  recommended  by  Mr.  Thomas  Riley, 
engineer,  if  ye  like." 

AN    INTERVIEW    WITH    THE    "  SUPER." 

"All  right,"  said  I,  and  thanking  the 
old  man  for  his  advice,  I  went  at  once  10 
the  superintendent's  office;  not,  however, 


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FINDING  A   DISCHARGE. 


225 


with  any  great  confidence  in  the  success  of 
my  errand;  for  I  had  been  long  enough  at 
the  business  now  to  know  that  there  was 
such  a  thing  as  official  courtesy  on  rail- 
roads, and  I  doubted  that  the  superintend- 
ent would  order  the  master  mechanic  to 
appoint  me  against  his  will.  I  was  bound, 
however,  to  see  the  thing  through;  so  I 
walked  boldly  into  the  office,  and  inquired 
for  the  superintendent.  I  learned  that  he 
was  in,  and  sat  down  to  wait  the  gentle- 
man's pleasure.  A  good  long  wait  I  had 
of  it,  too;  several  times  he  came  into  the 
room  where  I  was,  but  he  was  evidently 
very  busy,  and  paid  no  attention  to  me. 
Presently  he  came  rushing  out  with  his 
hat  on,  pulling  on  his  coat  as  he  went, 
and  his  exit  seemed  to  be  the  signal  for 
dinner;  for  all  the  clerks  bolted  immedi- 
ately in  his  rear,  leaving  me  the  sole  occu- 
pant of  the  office.  I,  too,  went  home, 
bolted  my  dinner  in  a  hurry,  and  has- 
tened back,  fearing  to  miss  him  on  his  re- 
turn; for  it  is  an  old  saying  on  the  railroad, 
that  the  best  time  to  catch  a  boss  is  on 
his  return  from  lunch,  when  he  is  supposed 
to  be  in  good  humor  and  more  apt  to  re- 
ceive a  petition  favorably  than  at  any  other 
time.  I  found  I  was  successful  so  far  as 
that  he  had  not  returned  before  me. 

I  sat  and  squirmed  in  discomfort  on 
that  hard  bench  until  after  three  o'clock; 
then  he  came  bustling  in,  and,  as  usual, 
passed  me  by.  Tired  with  my  long  wait,  I 
tiptoed  to  the  chief  clerk's  desk  and  asked 
in  a  whisper  if  he  thought  Mr.  Wilkes 
would  see  me  now.  "  What  do  you  want 
with  him?"  said  he.  I  told  him  I  was 
seeking  a  fireman's  position  on  the  road. 
As  he  didn't  appear  to  have  anything 
else  to  do,  he  amused  himself  by  pumping 
the  whole  story  out  of  me,  and  then  coolly 
told  me  he  didn't  think  the  super  would 
see  me  that  day,  as  he  was  very  busy;  I 
had  better  call  some  other  time.  His  off- 
hand way  of  disposing  of  what  was  a  very 
important  matter  to  me  roused  my  ire  to 
such  an  extent  that  I  declined  to  act  on 
his  suggestion;  but,  on  the  contrary,  I 
promised  myself  that  I  would  see  and  speak 
to  that  super  even  if  I  had  to  force  my 
way  into  his  sanctum. 

It  was  nearly  (\ve  o'clock  when  he  ap- 
peared, bound,  as  I  felt  sure,  for  home. 
"  Now  or  never,"  said  I,  and  I  stepped  up 
to  the  gentleman,  asking  for  a  few  min- 
utes of  his  valuable  time.  He  stopped 
short,  whirled  half-round,  pulled  out  an 
old-fashioned  silver  watch  with  a  jerk, 
looked  at  it  abstractedly  for  a  moment, 


and  then  asked,  brusquely,  "  Well,  what  is 
it?  Talk  quick  now;  I'm  in  a  hurry."  I 
stated  my  case  as  briefly  as  possible. 
"Well,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 
said  he. 

I  told  him  that  Mr.  Tom  Riley,  an  en- 
gineer, had  advised  me  to  see  him,  think- 
ing, perhaps,  he  might  intercede  with  the 
master  mechanic  in  my  behalf. 

"  Ever  railroad  any  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  nearly  two  years  on  this 
road." 

"What  doing?" 

"  Braking,  sir." 

"  When  did  you  quit  ?  " 

"I  haven't  quit  at  all;  I  was  braking 
for  Simmons  at  the  time  of  the  wreck,  and 
have  just  come  from  the  hospital." 

His  face  flushed  angrily  as  he  replied, 
"You  were!  Well,  I  admire  your  gall!  " 
Turning  to  the  head  clerk,  he  added,  "  Mr. 
Clark,  have  this  fellow's  time  made  out, 
and  hand  it  to  him,"  and  he  was  off. 

"  Have  this  fellow's  time  made  out." 
That  meant  that  I  was  discharged,  and  in 
heaven's  name,  for  what  ?  I  was  not  con- 
scious of  having  done  anything  to  merit 
such  harsh  treatment,  and  the  sudden  ver- 
dict, from  which  I  knew  there  was  no 
appeal,  nearly  floored  me.  It  was  a  new 
experience,and  as  unexpected  as  it  was  un- 
welcome. It  was  some  time  before  I  was 
able  to  obtain  any  information  explaining 
the  super's  conduct;  at  last,  however,  a 
brakeman  told  me  that  I  had  been  dis- 
charged ever  since  the  wreck,  only,  hav- 
ing been  in  hospital,  I  had  not  heard  of  it. 

"  So,"  said  he,  "  when  you  told  him  you 
was  still  on  the  road,  he  thought  you  had 
come  up  to  the  office  to  have  a  little  fun 
with  him,  and  it  made  him  mad." 

Have  fun  with  the  superintendent  ?  Not 
I.  I  had  not  yet  reached  the  reckless 
stage  of  the  hardened  veteran  who  smokes 
his  pipe  in  the  powder  magazine. 

I  asked  the  "braky"  why  I  should  be 
discharged,  as  I  had  no  hand  in  causing  the 
wreck.  "  You  refused  to  swear  that  the 
meet  and  pass  order  read  Brookdale, 
didn't  you  ?" 

"Certainly;  how  could  I  swear  when  I 
didn't  know  anything  about  it  ?  " 

"Well,  that's  your  misfortune,  my  boy; 
if  you  can't  swear  to  what  the  company 
wants  just  because  you  don't  know,  you 
must  expect  to  suffer  for  your  lack  of 
ability,"  saying  which,  he  left  me  with  the 
air  of  a  superior  being  who  had  kindly 
shed  some  of  his  superabundant  light  on 
my  benighted  ignorance. 


Editor's  Note.— Mr.  Hamblen's  next  paper  will  relate  his  experiences  as  a  fireman. 

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Author  of  '» In  the  Midst  of  Alarms,"  "  The  Mutable  Many,"  etc. 


VERY  fortress  has  one  traitor 
within  its  walls;  the  Schloss 
Eltz  had  two.  In  this,  curi- 
ously enough,  lay  its  salva- 
tion; for  as  some  Eastern 
poisons  when  mixed  neutral- 
ize each  other  and  form  com- 
bined a  harmless  fluid,  so  did  the  two 
traitors  unwittingly  counteract,  the  one 
upon  the  other,  to  the  lasting  glory  of 
Schloss  Eltz,  which  has  never  been  cap- 
tured to  this  day. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  picture  the 
amazement  of  Heinrich  von  Richenbach 
when  he  sat  mute  upon  his  horse  at  the 
brow  of  the  wooded  heights  and  for  the 
first  time  beheld  the  imposing  pile  which 
had  been  erected  by  the  Count  von  Eltz. 
It  is  startling  enough  to  come  suddenly 
upon  a  castle  where  no  castle  should  be; 
but  to  find  across  one's  path  an  erection 
that  could  hardly  have  been  the  product 
of  other  agency  than  the  lamp  of  Aladdin 
was  stupefying,  and  Heinrich  drew  the 
sunburned  back  of  his  hand  across  his 
eyes,  fearing  that  they  were  playing  him  a* 
trick  ;  and  seeing  the  wondrous  vision 
still  before  him,  he  hastily  crossed  him- 
self, an  action  performed  somewhat  clum- 
sily through  lack  of  practice,  so  that 
he  might  ward  off  enchantment,  if,  as 
seemed  likely,  that  mountain  of  pinnacles 
was  the  work  of  the  devil,  and  not  placed 
there,  stone  on  stone,  by  the  hand  of  man. 
But  in  spite  of  crossing  and  the  clearing 
of  the  eyes,  Eltz  Castle  remained  firmly 
seated  on  its  stool  of  rock,  and,  when  his 


first  astonishment  had  somewhat  abated, 
Von  Richenbach,  who  was  a  most  practical 
man,  began  to  realize  that  here,  purely  by 
a  piece  of  unbelievable  good  luck,  he  had 
stumbled  on  the  very  secret  he  had  been 
sent  to  unravel,  the  solving  of  which  he 
had  given  up  in  despair,  returning  empty- 
handed  to  his  grim  master,  the  redoubt- 
able Archbishop  Baldwin  of  Treves. 

It  was  now  almost  two  months  since  the 
archbishop  had  sent  him  on  the  mission  to 
the  Rhine  from  which  he  was  returning  as 
wise  as  he  went,  well  knowing  that  a  void 
budget  would  procure  him  scant  welcome 
from  his  imperious  master.  Here,  at  least, 
was  important  matter  for  the  warlike  Elec- 
tor's stern  consideration — an  apparently 
impregnable  fortress  secretly  built  in  the 
very  center  of  the  archbishop's  domain; 
and  knowing  that  the  Count  von  Eltz 
claimed  at  least  partial  jurisdiction  over 
this  district,  more  especially  that  portion 
known  as  the  Eltz-thal,  in  the  middle  of 
which  this  mysterious  citadel  had  been 
erected,  Heinrich  rightly  surmised  that  its 
construction  had  been  the  work  of  this 
ancient  enemy  of  the  archbishop. 

Two  months  before,  or  nearly  so,  Hein- 
rich von  Richenbach  had  been  summoned 
into  the  presence  of  the  Lion  of  Treves 
at  his  palace  in  that  venerable  city.  When 
Baldwin  had  dismissed  all  within  the  room 
save  only  Von  Richenbach,  the  august 
prelate  said: 

"It  is  my  pleasure  that  you  at  once 
take  horse  and  proceed  to  my  city  of  May- 
ence  on  the  Rhine,  where  I  am  governor. 

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227 


You  will  inspect  the  garrison  there  and 
report  to  me." 

Heinrich  bowed,  but  said  nothing. 

"  You  will  then  go  down  the  Rhine  to 
Elfield,  where  my  new  castle  is  built,  and 
1  shall  be  pleased  to  have  an  opinion  re- 
garding it." 

The  archbishop  paused,  and  again  his 
vassal  bowed  and  remained  silent. 

"  It  is  my  wish  that  you  go  without  es- 
cort, attracting  as  little  attention  as  pos- 
sible, and  perhaps  it  may  be  advisable  to 
return  by  the  northern  side  of  the  Moselle, 
but  some  distance  back  from  the  river,  as 
there  are  barons  on  the  banks  who  might 
inquire  your  business,  and  regret  their 
curiosity  when  they  found  they  questioned 
a  messenger  of  mine.  We  should  strive 
during  our  brief  sojourn  on  this  inquisitive 
earth  to  put  our  fellow  creatures  to  as 
little  discomfort  as  possible." 

Von  Richenbach  saw  that  he  was  being 
sent  on  a  secret  and  possibly  dangerous 
mission,  and  he  had  been  long  enough  in 
the  service  of  the  crafty  archbishop  to 
know  that  the  reasons  ostensibly  given  for 
his  journey  were  probably  not  those  which 
were  the  cause  of  it,  so  he  contented  him- 
self with  inclining  his  head  for  the  third 
time  and  holding  his  peace.  The  arch- 
bishop regarded  him  keenly  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, a  cynical  smile  hovering  about  his 
lips ;  then  said,  as  if  his  words  were  an 
afterthought : 

"Our  faithful  vassal,  the  Count  von 
Eltz,  is,  if  I  mistake  not,  a  neighbor  of 
ours  at  Elfield?" 

The  sentence  took,  through  its  inflec- 
tion, the  nature  of  a  query,  and  for  the 
first  time  Heinrich  von  Richenbach  ven- 
tured reply. 

"  He  is,  my  lord." 

The  archbishop  raised  his  eyes  to  the 
vaulted  ceiling,  and  seemed  for  a  time 
lost  in  thought,  saying,  at  last,  apparently 
in  soliloquy,  rather  than  direct  address: 

"  Count  von  Eltz  has  been  suspiciously 
quiet  of  late  for  a  man  so  impetuous  by 
nature.  It  might  be  profitable  to  know 
what  interests  him  during  this  unwonted 
seclusion.  It  behooves  us  to  acquaint 
ourselves  with  the  motives  that  actuate  a 
neighbor,  so  that  opportunity  arising,  we 
may  aid  him  with  counsel  or  encourage- 
ment. If,  therefore,  it  should  so  chance 
that,  in  the  intervals  of  your  inspection  of 
governorship  or  castle,  aught  regarding 
the  present  occupation  of  the  noble  count 
comes  to  your  ears,  the  information  thus 
received  may  perhaps  remain  in  your 
memory  until  you  return  to  Treves." 


The  archbishop  withdrew  his  eyes  from 
the  ceiling,  the  lids  lowering  over  them, 
and  flashed  a  keen,  rapier-like  glance  at 
the  man  who  stood  before  him. 

Heinrich  von  Richenbach  made  low 
obeisance  and  replied: 

"  Whatever  else  fades  from  my  memory, 
my  lord,  news  of  Count  von  Eltz  shall  re- 
main there." 

"  See  that  you  carry  nothing  upon  you, 
save  your  commission  as  inspector,  which 
my  secretary  will  presently  give  to  you. 
If  you  are  captured  it  will  be  enough  to 
proclaim  yourself  my  emissary  and  exhibit 
your  commission  in  proof  of  the  peaceful 
nature  of  your  embassy.  And  now  to 
horse  and  away." 

Thus  Von  Richenbach,  well  mounted, 
with  his  commission  legibly  engrossed  in 
clerkly  hand  on  parchment,  departed  on 
the  Roman  road  for  Mayence,  but  neither 
there  nor  at  Elfield  could  he  learn  more  of 
Count  von  Eltz  than  was  already  known 
at  Treves,  which  was  to  the  effect  that 
the  nobleman,  repenting  him,  it  was  said, 
of  his  stubborn  opposition  to  the  arch- 
bishop, had  betaken  himself  to  the  Cru- 
sades in  expiation  of  his  wrong  in  shoul- 
dering arms  against  one  who  was  both  his 
temporal  and  spiritual  over-lord;  and  this 
rumor  coming  to  the  ears  of  Baldwin,  had 
the  immediate  effect  of  causing  that 
prince  of  the  church  to  despatch  Von  Rich- 
enbach with  the  purpose  of  learning  accu- 
rately what  his  old  enemy  was  actually 
about;  for  Baldwin,  being  an  astute  man, 
placed  little  faith  in  sudden  conversion. 

When  Heinrich  von  Richenbach  returned 
to  Treves  he  was  immediately  ushered 
into  the  presence  of  his  master. 

"You  have  been  long  away,"  said  the 
archbishop,  a  frown  on  his  brow.  "  I 
trust  the  tidings  you  bring  offer  some 
slight  compensation  for  the  delay." 

Then  was  Heinrich  indeed  glad  that  fate, 
rather  than  his  own  perspicacity,  had  led 
his  horse  to  the  heights  above  Schloss 
Eltz. 

"  The  tidings  I  bring,  my  lord,  are  so 
astounding  that  I  could  not  return  to 
Treves  without  verifying  them.  This  led 
me  far  afield,  for  my  information  was  of 
the  scantiest;  but  I  am  now  enabled  to 
vouch  for  the  truth  of  my  well-nigh  in- 
credible intelligence." 

"Have  the  good  deeds  of  the  count 
then  translated  him  bodily  to  heaven,  as 
was  the  case  with  Elijah  ?  Unloose  your 
packet,  man,  and  waste  not  so  much  time 
in  the  vaunting  of  your  wares." 

"  The   Count    von    Eltz,  my  lord,  has 

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228 


THE  LONG  LADDER. 


built  a  castle  that  is  part  palace,  part  for- 
tress, and  in  its  latter  office  well-nigh  im- 
pregnable." 

41  Yes?     And  where  ?" 

"In  the  Eltz-thal,  my  lord,  a  league 
and  a  quarter  from  the  Moselle." 

"  Impossible!  "  cried  Baldwin,  bringing 
his  clenched  fist  down  on  the  table  before 
him.  *•  Impossible!  You  have  been  mis- 
led, Von  Richenbach." 

44  Indeed,  my  lord,  I  had  every  reason 
to  believe  so  until  I  viewed  the  structure 
with  my  own  eyes." 

"This,  then,  is  the  fruit  of  Von  Eltz's 
contrition!  To  build  a  castle  without 
permission  within  my  jurisdiction,  and 
defy  me  in  my  own  domain.  By  the  coat, 
he  shall  repent  his  temerity  and  wish  him- 
self twice  over  a  captive  of  the  Saracen 
ere  I  have  done  with  him.  I  will  despatch 
at  once  an  army  to  the  Eltz-thal,  and  there 
shall  not  be  left  one  stone  upon  another 
when  it  returns." 

"  My  lord,  I  beseech  you  not  to  move 
with  haste  in  this  matter.  If  twenty 
thousand  men  marched  up  to  the  Eltz-thal 
they  could  not  take  the  castle.  No  such 
schloss  was  ever  built  before,  and  none  to 
equal  it  will  ever  be  built  again,  unless, 
as  I  suspect  to  be  the  case  in  this  instance, 
the  devil  lends  his  aid."  • 

44  Oh,  I  doubt  not  that  Satan  built  it, 
but  he  took  the  form  and  name  of  Count 
von  Eltz  while  doing  so,"  replied  the 
archbishop,  his  natural  anger  at  this  bold 
defiance  of  his  power  giving  way  to  his 
habitual  caution,  that,  united  with  his  re- 
sources and  intrepidity,  had  much  to  do 
with  his  success.  "  You  hold  the  castle, 
then,  to  be  unassailable.  Is  its  garrison, 
then,  so  powerful,  or  its  position  so 
strong  ? " 

44  The  strength  of  its  garrison,  my  lord, 
is  in  its  weakness;  I  doubt  if  there  are  a 
score  of  men  in  the  castle,  but  that  is  all 
the  better,  as  there  are  fewer  mouths  to 
feed  in  case  of  siege,  and  the  count  has 
some  four  years'  supplies  in  his  vaults. 
The  schloss  is  situated  on  a  lofty,  unscal- 
able rock  that  stands  in  the  center  of  a 
valley,  as  if  it  were  a  fortress  itself.  Then 
the  walls  of  the  building  are  of  unbeliev- 
able height,  with  none  of  the  round  or 
square  towers  which  castles  usually  pos- 
sess, but  having  in  plenty  conical  turrets, 
steep  roofs,  and  the  like,  which  give  it 
the  appearance  of  a  fairy  palace  in  a  wide, 
enchanted  amphitheater  of  green  wooded 
hills,  making  the  Schloss  Eltz,  all  in  all,  a 
most  miraculous  sight,  such  as  a  man  may 
not  behold  in  many  years'  travel." 


44  In  truth,  Von  Richenbach,"  said  the 
archbishop,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "  we 
should  have  made  you  one  of  our  screen- 
ing monks  rather  than  a  warrior,  so  mar- 
velously  do  you  describe  the  entrancing 
handiwork  of  our  beloved  vassal,  the 
Count  von  Eltz.  Perhaps  you  think  it 
pity  to  destroy  so  fascinating  a  creation." 

"  Not  so,  my  lord.  I  have  examined 
the  castle  well,  and  I  think  were  I  entrusted 
with  the  commission  I  could  reduce  it." 

"Ah,  now  we  have  modesty  indeed! 
You  can  take  the  stronghold  where  I 
should  fail." 

44 1  did  not  say  that  you  would  fail,  my 
lord.  I  said  that  twenty  thousand  men 
marching  up  the  valley  would  fail,  unless 
they  were  content  to  sit  around  the  castle 
for  four  years  or  more." 

"  Answered  like  a  courtier,  Heinrich. 
What,  then,  is  your  method  of  attack  ?  " 

44  On  the  height  to  the  east,  which  is  the 
nearest  elevation  to  the  castle,  a  strong 
fortress  might  be  built,  that  would  in  a 
measure  command  the  Schloss  Eltz, 
although  I  fear  the  distance  would  be  too 
great  for  any  catapult  to  fling  stones 
within  its  courtyard.  Still,  we  might  thus 
have  complete  power  over  the  entrance  to 
the  schloss,  and  no  more  provender  could 
be  taken  in." 

44  You  mean,  then,  to  wear  Von  Eltz 
out  ?  That  would  be  as  slow  a  method  as 
besiegement." 

44  To  besiege  would  require  an  army, 
my  lord,  and  would  have  this  disadvan- 
tage, that,  besides  withdrawing  from  other 
use  so  many  of  your  men,  rumor  would 
spread  abroad  that  the  count  held  you  in 
check.  The  building  of  a  fortress  on  the 
height  would  merely  be  doing  what  the 
count  has  already  done,  and  it  could  be 
well  garrisoned  by  twoscore  men  at  the 
most,  vigilant  night  and  day  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  any  movement  of  fancied  secu- 
rity to  force  way  into  the  castle.  There 
need  be  no  formal  declaration  of  hostili- 
ties, but  a  fortress  built  in  all  amicable- 
ness,  to  which  the  count  could  hardly  ob- 
ject, as  you  would  be  but  following  his 
own  example." 

44 1  understand.  We  build  a  house  near 
his  for  neighborliness.  There  is  indeed 
much  in  your  plan  that  commends  itself 
to  me,  but  I  confess  a  liking  for  the  under- 
lying part  of  a  scheme.  Remains  there 
anything  else  which  you  have  not  unfolded 
to  me  ? " 

44  Placing  in  command  of  the  new  for- 
tress a  stout  warrior  who  was  at  the  same 
time  a  subtle  man " 


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ROBERT  BARR.  229 

"  In  other  words,  thyself,  Heinrich —  into  possession  of  it  by  whatever  means 
well,  what  then  ?  "  you  choose  to  use." 

"There  is  every  chance  that  such  a  Thus  the  square,  long  castle  of  Baldwin- 
general  may  learn  much  of  the  castle  eltz  came  to  be  builded,  and  thus  Heinrich 
from   one   or  other   of   its    inmates.      It    von   Richenbach,    brave,   ingenious,    and 

unscrupulous, 
was  installed 
captain  of  it, 
with  twoscore 
men  to  keep 
him  company, 
together  with 
a  plentiful 
supply  of  gold 
to  bribe  whom- 
soever he 
thought  worth 
suborning. 

Time  went 
on  w  i  t  h  o  u  t 
much  to  show 
for  its  passing, 
and  Heinrich 
began  to  grow 
impatient,  for 
his  attempt  at 
corrupting  the 
garrison 
showed  that 
negotiations 
were  not  with- 
out their  dan- 
gers. Stout 
Bau  ms  tein, 
captain  of  the 
gate,  was  the 
man  whom 
Heinrich  most 
desired  to  pur- 
chase, for  he 
could  lessen 
the  discipline 
at  the  portal 
of  SchlossEltz 
without  at- 
tracting undue 

"rkco  came  suddenly  upon  thk  countess,  who  screamed  at  the  sight  of  him."  att-pntinn      "Rnf 

he  was  an  iras- 

might  be  possible  that  through  neglect  or  cible  German,  whose  strong  right  arm  was 

inadvertence  the  drawbridge  would  be  left  readier  than  his  tongue;  and  when  Hein- 

down  some  night  and  the  portcullis  raised,  rich's  emissary  got  speech  with  him,  under 

In  other  words,  the  castle,  impervious  to  a    flag    of   truce,   whispering   that    much 

direct  assault,  may  fall  by  strategy."  gold  might  be  had  for  a  casual  raising  of 

"  Excellent,  excellent,   my  worthy  war-  the  portcullis  and  lowering  of  the  draw- 

rior!   I  should  dearly  love  to  have  captain  bridge,  Baumstein  at  first  could  not  under- 

of  mine  pay  such  an   informal  visit  to  his  stand  his  purport,    for  he  was  somewhat 

estimable  countship.     We  shall  build  the  thick  in  the  skull;  but  when  the  meaning 

fortress  you  suggest,  and  call   it  Baldwin-  of  the  message  at  last  broke  in  upon  him, 

eltz.     You  shall  be  its  commander,  and  I  he  wasted  no  time  in  talk,  but,  raising  his 

now  bestow  upon  you   Schloss   Eltz,  the  ever-ready  battle  ax,  clove  the  envoy   to 

only  proviso  being  that  you  are  to  enter  the  midriff.     The  Count  von  Eltz  himself, 


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23° 


THE  LONG  LADDER. 


coming  on  the  scene  at  this  moment,  was 
amazed  at  the  deed,  and  sternly  demanded 
of  his  gate  captain  why  he  had  violated 
the  terms  of  a  parley.  Baumstein's  slow- 
ness of  speech  came  near  to  being  the 
undoing  of  him,  for  at  first  he  merely  said 
that  such  creatures  as  the  messenger 
should  not  be  allowed  to  live  and  that  an 
honest  soldier  was  insulted  by  holding 
converse  with  him;  whereupon  the  count, 
having  nice  notions,  picked  up  in  polite 
countries,  regarding  the  sacredness  of  a 
flag  of  truce,  was  about  to  hang  Baum- 
stein,  scant  though  the  garrison  was,  and 
even  then  it  was  but  by  chance  that  the 
true  state  of  affairs  became  known  to  the 
count.  He  was  on  the  point  of  sending 
back  the  body  of  the  envoy  to  Von  Rich- 
enbach  with  suitable  apology  for  his  de- 
struction and  offer  of  recompense,  stating 
that  the  assailant  would  be  seen  hanging 
outside  the  gate,  when  Baumstein  said 
that  while  he  had  no  objection  to  being 
hanged  if  it  so  pleased  the  count,  he 
begged  to  suggest  that  the  gold  which  the 
envoy  brought  with  him  to  bribe  the  gar- 
rison should  be  taken  from  the  body  be- 
fore it  was  returned,  and  divided  equally 
among  the  guard  at  the  gate.  As  Baum- 
stein said  this,  he  was  taking  off  his  helmet 
and  unbuckling  his  corselet,  thus  freeing 
his  neck  for  the  greater  convenience  of 
the  castle  hangman.  When  the  count 
learned  that  the  stout  stroke  of  the  battle- 
ax  was  caused  by  the  proffer  of  a  bribe 
for  the  betraying  of  the  castle,  he,  to  the 
amazement  of  all  present,  begged  the  par- 
don of  Baumstein;  for  such  a  thing  was 
never  before  known  under  the  feudal  law 
that  a  noble  should  apologize  to  a  com- 
mon man,  and  Baumstein  himself  muttered 
that  he  knew  not  what  the  world  was 
coming  to  if  a  mighty  lord  might  not  hang 
an  underling  as  it  pleased  him,  cause  or 
no  cause. 

The  count  commanded  the  body  to  be 
searched,  and  finding  thereon  some  ^vvt 
bags  of  gold,  distributed  the  coin  among 
his  men,  as  a  good  commander  should, 
sending  back  the  body  to  Von  Richenbach, 
with  a  most  polite  message  to  the  effect 
that  as  the  archbishop  evidently  intended 
the  money  to  be  given  to  the  garrison,  the 
count  had  endeavored  to  carry  out  his 
lordship's  wishes,  as  was  the  duty  of  an 
obedient  vassal.  But  Heinrich,  instead  of 
being  pleased  with  the  courtesy  of  the  mes- 
sage, broke  into  violent  oaths,  and  spread 
abroad  in  the  land  the  false  saying  that 
Count  von  Eltz  had  violated  a  flag  of 
truce. 


But  there  was  one  man  in  the  castle  who 
did  not  enjoy  a  share  of  the  gold,  because 
he  was  not  a  warrior,  but  a  servant  of  the 
countess.  This  was  a  Spaniard  named 
Rego,  marvelously  skilled  in  the  concoct- 
ing of  various  dishes  of  pastry  and  other 
niceties  such  as  high-born  ladies  have  a 
fondness  for.  Rego  was  disliked  by  the 
count,  and,  in  fact,  by  all  the  stout  Ger- 
mans who  formed  the  garrison,  not  only 
because  it  is  the  fashion  for  men  of  one 
country  to  justly  abhor  those  of  another, 
foreigners  being  in  all  lands  regarded  as 
benighted  creatures  whom  we  marvel  that 
the  Lord  allows  to  live  when  he  might  so 
easily  have  peopled  the  whole  world  with 
men  like  unto  ourselves;  but,  aside  from 
this,  Rego  had  a  cat-like  tread,  and  a  fur- 
tive eye  that  never  met  another  honestly 
as  an  eye  should.  The  count,  however, 
endured  the  presence  of  this  Spaniard, 
because  the  countess  admired  his  skill  in 
confections,  then  unknown  in  Germany, 
and  thus  Rego  remained  under  her  orders. 

The  Spaniard's  eye  glittered  when  he 
saw  the  yellow  of  the  gold,  and  his  heart 
was  bitter  that  he  did  not  have  a  share  of 
it.  He  soon  learned  where  it  came  from, 
and  rightly  surmised  that  there  was  more 
in  the  same  treasury,  ready  to  be  bestowed 
for  similar  service  to  that  which  the  un- 
ready Baumstein  had  so  emphatically  re- 
jected; so  Rego,  watching  his  opportunity, 
stole  away  secretly  to  Von  Richenbach 
and  offered  his  aid  in  the  capture  of  the 
castle,  should  suitable  compensation  be 
tendered  him.  Heinrich  questioned  him 
closely  regarding  the  interior  arrange- 
ments of  the  castle,  and  asked  him  if  he 
could  find  any  means  of  letting  down  the 
drawbridge  and  raising  the  portcullis  in 
the  night.  This  Rego  said,  quite  truly, 
was  impossible,  as  the  guard  at  the  gate, 
vigilant  enough  before,  had  become  much 
more  so  since  the  attempted  bribery  of  the 
captain.  There  was,  however,  one  way  by 
which  the  castle  might  be  entered,  and 
that  entailed  a  most  perilous  adventure. 
There  was  a  platform  between  two  of  the 
lofty,  steep  roofs,  so  elevated  that  it 
gave  a  view  over  all  the  valley.  On  this 
platform  a  sentinel  was  stationed  night 
and  day,  whose  duty  was  that  of  outlook, 
like  a  man  on  the  cross-trees  of  a  ship. 
From  this  platform  a  stair,  narrow  at  the 
top,  but  widening  as  it  descended  to  the 
lower  stories,  gave  access  to  the  whole 
castle.  If,  then,  a  besieger  constructed  a 
ladder  of  enormous  length,  it  might  be 
placed  at  night  on  the  narrow  ledge  of 
rock    far    below  this   platform,   standing 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ROBERT  BARR. 


231 


almost  perpendicular,  and  by  this  means 
man  after  man  would  be  enabled  to  reach 
the  roof  of  the  castle,  and,  under  the  guid- 
ance of  Rego,  gain  admittance  to  the 
lower  rooms  unsuspected. 

"  But  the  sentinel  ?  "  objected  Von  Rich- 
enbach. 

"The  sentinel  I  will  myself  slay.  I 
will  steal  up  behind  him  in  the  night  when 
you  make  your  assault,  and  running  my 
knife  into  his  neck,  fling  him  over  the  cas- 


sentinel,  and  thus  allow  us  to  climb  by 
that?" 

"  It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  con- 
struct and  conceal  such  a  contrivance 
strong  enough  to  carry  more  than  one  man 
at  a  time,  even  if  I  had  the  materials," 
said  the  wily  Spaniard,  whose  thoughtful- 
ness  and  ingenuity  Heinrich  could  not  but 
admire,  while  despising  him  as  an  oily 
foreigner.  "If  you  made  the  rope  ladder 
there  would  be  no  method  of  getting  it  into 


'  AS  QUICKLY  AS  HE  COULD,    LIT  ONE    CANDLE    AFTER    ANOTHER,   UNTIL   THE  USUAL    NUMBER    BURNED     BEFORE  THE  SACRED 

IMAGE.!  " 


tie  wall;  then  I  shall  be  ready  to  guide 
you  down  into  the  courtyard." 

Von  Richenbach,  remembering  the  sheer 
precipice  of  rock  at  the  foot  of  the  castle 
walls  and  the  dizzy  height  of  the  castle 
walls  above  the  rock,  could  scarcely  for- 
bear a  shudder  at  the  thought  of  climbing 
so  high  on  a  shaky  ladder,  even  if  such  a 
ladder  could  be  made,  of  which  he  had 
some  doubts.  The  scheme  did  not  seem 
so  feasible  as  the  Spaniard  appeared  to 
imagine. 

"  Could  you  not  let  down  a  rope  ladder 
from  the  platform  when  you  had  slain  the 


Schloss  Eltz;  besides,  it  would  need  to  be 
double  the  length  of  a  wooden  ladder, 
for  you  can  place  your  ladder  at  the  foot 
of  the  ledge,  then  climb  to  the  top  of  the 
rock,  and,  standing  there,  pull  the  ladder 
up,  letting  the  higher  end  scrape  against 
the  castle  wall  until  the  lower  end  stands 
firm  on  the  ledge  of  rock.  Your  whole 
troop  could  then  climb,  one  following  an- 
other, so  that  there  would  be  no  delay." 

Thus  it  was  arranged,  and  then  began 
and  wa.s  completed  the  construction  of 
the  longest  and  most  wonderful  ladder 
ever  made  in  Germany  or  anywhere  else, 


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*3* 


THE  LONG  LADDER. 


so  far  as  history 
records.  It  was 
composed  of  nu- 
merous small  lad- 
ders, spliced  and 
hooped  with  iron 
bands  by  the  cas- 
tle armorer.  At 
a  second  visit, 
which  Rego  paid 
to  Baldwineltz 
when  the  ladder 
was  completed,  all 
arrangements 
were  made  and  the 
necessary  signals 
agreed  upon. 

It  was  the  pious 
custom  of  those 
in  the  fortress  of 
Baldwineltz  to 
ring  the  great  bell 
on  saints'  days 
and  other  festivals 
that'  called  for 
special  observ- 
ance, because  Von 
Richenbach  con- 
ducted war  on  the 
strictest  princi- 
ples, as  a  man 
knowing  his  duty 
both  spiritual  and 
temporal.  It  was 
agreed  that  on  the 
night  of  the  as- 
sault, when  it  was 
necessary  that 
Rego  should  as- 
sassinate the  sen- 
tinel, the  great 
bell  of  the  fortress 
should  be  rung, 
whereupon  the 
Spaniard  was  to 
hie  himself  up  the 
stair  and  send  the 
watchman  into  an- 
other sphere  of 
duty  by  means  of 
his  dagger.  The 
bell-ringing  seems 
a  perfectly  justi- 
fiable device,  and 
one  that  will  be 
approved  by  all 
conspirators,  for 
the  sounding  of 
the  bell,  plainly 
heard  in  Schloss 
Eltz,  would  cause 


no  alarm,  as  it  was 
wont  to  sound  at 
uncertain    inter- 
vals,    night    and 
day,    and   was 
known      to     give 
tongue   only  dur- 
ing   moments  al- 
1  otted    by   the 
out  thoughts.     But 
Ambrose,  in  setting 
iment  the  chronicles 
ives  it  as  his  opinion 
rity  could  have  been 
us  suddenly  chang- 
ns  of  the  bell  from 
the  furtherance  of  a 
Still,  Ambrose  was 
a  sympathizer  with 
Itz,  and,  aside  from 
u   his  cell  cannot  be 
<e  the  same  view  of 
ity  that  would  com- 
a  warrior  on  a  bas- 
;,  much  as  we  may 
>se  as  an   historian, 
ipelled  to  accept  his 
litary  ethics, 
^rtant  night,  which 
darkness,   made  the 
y  the  black  environ- 
sely- wooded     hills 
d  Schloss  Eltz,  the 
ard  became  almost 
;ty  as  he  listened  for 
1  that  was  to  be  his 
it  tolled  forth,  and 
o  hand  in  his  girdle, 
mg  the  narrow  halls 
k.     The  interior  of 
is   full    of   intricate 
expected     turnings, 
jps  up,  there  a  few 
r  all  the  world  like 
ch  even  one  know- 
light  well  go  astray, 
urnings  Rego  came 
the  countess,   who 
jht  of  him,  and  then 
m  said,  half  laugh- 
g,  being  a  nervous 

thank  heaven  it  is 

distraught  with  the 

r  of  that  bell  that  I 

at  the  sound  of  my 

Why  rings  it  so, 


X    13     BUI, 


4  EXKKTING  ALL  HIS  STRENGTH,  PUSHED 
THE  LANCB  OUTWARD,  AND  THE  TOP  OF 
THB  LADDER  WITH  IT-" 


^iii^  church  festival,  my 
lady,  which  they  fighting  for  the 
archbishop  are  more  familiar  with 


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*33 


than  I,"  answered  the  trembling  Spaniard, 
as  frightened  as  the  lady  herself  at  the 
unexpected  meeting.  But  the  countess 
was  a  most  religious  woman,  well  skilled 
in  the  observances  of  her  church,  and  she 
replied: 

"  No,  Rego.  There  is  no  cause  for  its 
dolorous  music,  and  to-night  there  seems 
to  me  something  ominous  and  menacing 
in  its  tone,  as  if  disaster  impended." 

"It  maybe  the  birthday  of  the  arch- 
bishop, my  lady,  or  of  the  pope  himself/' 

"  Our  holy  father  was  born  in  May,  and 
the  archbishop  in  November.  Ah,  1  would 
that  this  horrid  strife  were  done  with! 
But  our  safety  lies  in  heaven,  and  if  our 
duty  be  accomplished  here  on  earth,  we 
should  have  naught  to  fear;  yet  I  tremble 
as  if  great  danger  lay  before  me.  Come, 
Rego,  to  the  chapel,  and  light  the  candles 
at  the  altar." 

The  countess  passed  him,  and  for  one 
fateful  moment  Rego's  hand  hovered  over 
his  dagger,  thinking  to  strike  the  lady 
dead  at  his  feet;  but  the  risk  was  too  great, 
for  there  might  at  any  time  pass  along  the 
corridor  one  of  the  servants,  who  would 
instantly  raise  the  alarm  and  bring  disaster 
upon  him.  He  dare  not  disobey.  So  grind- 
ing his  teeth  in  impotent  rage  and  fear, 
he  followed  his  mistress  to  the  chapel,  and, 
as  quickly  as  he  could,  lit  one  candle  after 
another,  until  the  usual  number  burned  be- 
fore the  sacred  image.  The  countess  was 
upon  her  knees  as  he  tried  to  steal  softly 
from  the  room.  "Nay,  Rego,"  she  said, 
raising  her  bended  head,  "light  them  all 
to-night.  Harken  !  That  raven  bell  has 
ceased  even  as  you  lighted  the  last  can- 
dle." 

The  countess,  as  has  been  said,  was  a 
devout  lady,  and  there  stood  an  unusual 
number  of  candles  before  the  altar,  several 
of  which  burned  constantly,  but  only  on 
notable  occasions  were  all  the  candles 
lighted.  As  Rego  hesitated,  not  knowing 
what  to  do  in  this  crisis,  the  lady  repeated: 
"  Light  all  the  candles  to-night,  Rego." 

"  You  said  yourself,  my  lady,"  mur- 
mured the  agonized  man,  cold  sweat 
breaking  out  on  his  forehead,  "that  this 
was  not  a  saint's  day." 

"  Nevertheless,  Rego,"  persisted  the 
countess,  surprised  that  even  a  favorite 
servant  should  thus  attempt  to  thwart  her 
will,  "  I  ask  you  to  light  each  candle.  Do 
so  at  once." 

She  bowed  her  head  as  one  who  had 
spoken  the  final  word,  and  again  her  fate 
trembled  in  the  balance;  but  Rego  heard 
the   footsteps  of  the  count  entering  the 


gallery  above  him,  that  ran  across  the  end 
of  the  chapel,  and  he  at  once  resumed  the 
lighting  of  the  candles,  making  less  speed 
in  his  eagerness  than  if  he  had  gone  about 
his  task  with  more  care. 

The  monk  Ambrose  draws  a  moral  from 
this  episode,  which  is  sufficiently  obvious 
when  after  events  have  confirmed  it,  but 
which  we  need  not  here  pause  to  consider, 
when  an  episode  of  the  most  thrilling 
nature  is  going  forward  on  the  lofty  plat- 
form of  Eltz  Castle. 

The  sentinel  paced  back  and  forward 
within  his  narrow  limit,  listening  to  the 
depressing  and  monotonous  tolling  of  the 
bell  and  cursing  it,  for  the  platform  was  a 
lonely  place  and  the  night  of  inky  dark- 
ness. At  last  the  bell  ceased,  and  he 
stood  resting  on  his  long  pike,  enjoying 
the  stillness,  and  peering  into  the  black- 
ness, when  suddenly  he  became  aware  of 
a  grating,  rasping  sound  below  him,  as  if 
some  one  were  attempting  to  climb  the  pre- 
cipitous beetling  cliff  of  castle  wall  and 
slipping  against  the  stones.  His  heart 
stood  still  with  fear,  for  he  knew  it  could 
be  nothing  human.  An  instant  later  some- 
thing appeared  over  the  parapet  that  could 
be  seen  only  because  it  was  blacker  than 
the  distant  dark  sky  against  which  it  was 
outlined.  It  rose  and  rose  until  the  senti- 
nel saw  it  was  the  top  of  a  ladder,  which 
was  even  more  amazing  than  if  the  fiend 
himself  had  scrambled  over  the  stone 
coping,  for  we  know  the  devil  can  go  any- 
where, while  a  ladder  cannot.  But  the 
soldier  was  a  common-sense  man,  and, 
dark  as  was  the  night,  he  knew  that,  tall 
as  such  a  ladder  must  be,  there  seemed 
a  likelihood  that  human  power  was  push- 
ing it  upward.  He  touched  it  with  his 
hands  and  convinced  himself  that  there 
was  nothing  supernatural  about  it.  The 
ladder  rose  inch  by  inch,  slowly,  for  it 
must  have  been  no  easy  task  for  even 
twoscore  men  to  raise  it  thus  with  ropes 
or  other  devices,  especially  when  the  bot- 
tom of  it  neared  the  top  of  the  ledge.  The 
soldier  knew  he  should  at  once  give  the 
alarm  ;  but  he  was  the  second  traitor  in 
the  stronghold,  corrupted  by  the  sight  of 
the  glittering  gold  he  had  shared,  and  only 
prevented  from  selling  himself  because  the 
rigors  of  military  rule  did  not  give  him 
opportunity  of  going  to  Baldwineltz  as  the 
less  exacting  civilian  duties  had  allowed 
the  Spaniard  to  market  his  wares.  So  the 
sentry  made  no  outcry,  but  silently  pre- 
pared a  method  by  which  he  could  negoti- 
ate with  advantage  to  himself  when  the 
first  head  appeared  above  the   parapet. 


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234 


THE  LONG  LADDER. 


"WITH  A  Gl'RGI.ING   CRY,  PLUNGED  HEADLONG  FORWARD,  AND  DOWN 
THE    rKF.CiriCH." 


He  fixed  the  point  of  his  lance  against  a 
round  of  the  ladder,  and  when  the  leading 
warrior,  who  was  no  other  than  Heinrich 
von  Richenbach,  came  slowly  and  cau- 
tiously to  the  top  of  the  wall,  the  sentinel, 
exerting  all  his  strength,  pushed  the  lance 
outward,  and  the  top  of  the  ladder  with  it, 
until  it  stood  nearly  perpendicular  some 
two  yards  back  from  the  wall. 

"In  God's  name,  what  are  you  about? 
Is  that  you,  Rego  ?" 

The  soldier  replied,  calmly: 

"  Order  your  men  not  to  move,  and  do 
not  move  yourself,  until  I  have  some  con- 
verse with  you.  Have  no  fear  if  you  are 
prepared  to  accept  my  terms;  otherwise 
you  will  have  ample  time  to  say  your 
prayers  before  'you  reach  the  ground,  for 
the  distance  is  great." 

Von  Richenbach,  who  now  leaned  over 
the  top  round,  suspended  thus  between 
heaven  and  earth,  grasped  the  lance  with 
both  hands,  so  that  the  ladder  might  not  be 
thrust  beyond  the  perpendicular.  In  quiv- 
ering voice  he  passed  down  the  word  that 
no  man  was  to  shift  foot  or  hand  until  he 
had  made  bargain  with  the  sentinel  who 
held  them  in  such  extreme  peril. 

"What  terms  do  you  propose  to  me, 
soldier  ?  "  he  asked,  breathlessly. 

"  I  will  conduct  you  down  to  the  court- 


yard, and  when  you 
have  surprised  and 
taken  the  castle  you 
will  grant  me  safe  con- 
duct and  give  me  five 
bags  of  gold  equal  in 
weight  to  those  offered 
to  our  captain." 

"All  that  will   I  do 
and  double  the  treas- 
ure.      Faithfully     and 
truly  do  I  promise  it." 
"  You      pledge     me 
your     knightly    word, 
and  swear  also  by  the 
holy  coat  of  Treves  ?  " 
"  I  pledge  and  swear. 
And  pray  you  be  care- 
the    ladder  yet   a    little 
d  the  wall." 

to  your  honor,"   said  the 

traitors  love  to  prate  of 

d  will  now  admit  you  to 

but  until  we   are  in   the 

j here  must  be  silence." 

"Incline    the    ladder    gently,    for 
it    is   so    weighted    that   if    it   come 
suddenly   against    the   wall,    it    may 
break  in  the  middle." 

At  this  supreme  moment,  as  the  sentinel 
was  preparing  to  bring  them  cautiously  to 
the  wall,  when  all  was  deep  silence,  there 
crept  swiftly  and  noiselessly  through  the 
trap-door  the  belated  Spaniard.  His 
catlike  eyes  beheld  the  shadowy  form  of 
the  sentinel  bending  apparently  over  the 
parapet,  but  they  showed  him  nothing  be- 
yond. With  the  speed  and  precipitation 
of  a  springing  panther,  the  Spaniard 
leaped  forward  and  drove  his  dagger  deep 
into  the  neck  of  his  comrade,  who,  with  a 
gurgling  cry,  plunged  headlong  forward, 
and  down  the  precipice,  thrusting  his  lance 
as  he  fell.  The  Spaniard's  dagger  went 
with  the  doomed  sentinel,  sticking  fast  in 
his  throat,  and  its  presence  there  passed  a 
fatal  noose  around  the  neck  of  Rego  later, 
for  they  wrongly  thought  the  false  sentinel 
had  saved  the  castle  and  that  the  Span- 
iard had  murdered  a  faithful  watchman. 

Rego  leaned  panting  over  the  stone 
coping,  listening  for  the  thud  of  the 
body.  Then  was  he  frozen  with  horror 
when  the  still  night  air  was  split  with  the 
most  appalling  shriek  of  combined  human 
voices  in  an  agony  of  fear  that  ever  tor- 
tured the  ear  of  man.  The  shriek  ended 
in  a  crash  far  below,  and  silence  again 
filled  the  valley. 


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RUPERT    OF    HENTZAU. 

FROM   THE  MEMOIRS  OF  FRITZ  VON   TARLENHEIM. 

By  Anthony  Hope. 

Being  the  sequel  to  a  story  by  the  same  writer  entitled  "  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda." 
Illustrated  by  Charles  Dana  Gibson. 


INTRODUCTION  AND  SUMMARY  OF  EARLIER  CHAPTERS. 


Prompted  by  his  own  ambition,  the  Duke  of  Strelsau, 
known  as  "Black  Michael."  drugs  and  hides  away  his 
brother  Rudolf  on  the  eye  of  the  latter**  coronation  as  King 
of  Ruritania.  But  at  the  instigation  of  Colonel  Sapt  and 
Fritz  von  Tarlenheim,  supporters  of  Rudolf,  an  English 
relative  of  his,  Rudolf  Rassendyll— a  stranger  and  chance 
visitor  in  the  kingdom,  who  so  closely  resembles  Rudolf 
that  few  can  tell  them  apart— appears,  and,  in  his  name, 
assumes  the  crown  for  him.  While  Rudolfs  friends  are 
working  to  set  him  free,  Rassendyll  continues  to  hold  the 
throne  In  Rudolfs  guise  and  exercise  all  the  royal  functions 
—even  to  falling  ardently  in  love  with  the  Princess  Flavia, 
and  provoking  her  to  love  him  as  ardently  in  return.  Public 
expectation  and  policy  have  designated  the  Princess  to  be- 
come the  new  king's  wife.  "  Black  Michael "  is  finally  killed 
in  a  quarrel  by  Rupert  of  Hentzau,  one  of  his  accomplices. 
The  Princess  Flavia  has  felt  from  the  first  a  difference  be- 
tween the  two  Rudolfs ;  before  the  end,  the  truth  is  fully  dis- 
covered to  her.    She  dutifully  marries  the  real  king,  but  her 


heart  hardly  goes  with  her  hand.    Thereafter,  once  a  year, 
she  sends  a  gift  and  a  brief  verbal  message  to  Rassendyll  in 
token  of  her  remembrance  of  him.    And  these  incidents  and 
events  make  the  story  of  •'  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda." 
The  present  history  opens  with  the  king  grown  weak  and 

auerulous,  and  the  sense  of  the  difference  between  him  and 
le  man  who  had  courted  her  in  his  name  more  importunate 
than  ever  in  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  queen.  She  dare  not 
longer  trust  herself  in  sending  the  yearly  message  to  Rassen- 
dyll. She  therefore  writes  him  a  letter  that  is  to  be  her  last 
word  to  him.  But  the  messenger,  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim,  is 
betrayed  by  his  servant  Bauer ;  set  upon  at  Wintenberg  by 
Rupert  of  Hentzau  and  the  Count  of  Luzau-Rischenheim, 
general  conspirators  against  the  peace  of  the  kingdom; 
robbed  of  the  letter,  ana  himself  left  beaten  insensible.  As 
soon  as  he  revives,  he  reports  his  disaster  and  loss  to 
Rassendyll,  who  places  him  under  the  care  of  his  own 
servant  James,  and  then  sets  out  secretly  for  Zenda,  to  keep 
the  letter  from  coming  into  the  hands  01  the  king. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


AN    EDDY   ON    THE   MOAT. 


ON  the  evening  of  Thursday,  the  six- 
teenth of  October,  the  Constable  of 
Zenda  was  very  much  out  of  humor;  he 
has  since  confessed  as  much.  To  risk  the 
peace  of  a  palace  for  the  sake  of  a  lover's 
greeting  had  never  been  wisdom  to  his 
mind,  and  he  had  been  sorely  impatient 
with  "  that  fool  Fritz's"  yearly  pilgrimage. 
The  letter  of  farewell  had  been  an  added 
folly,  pregnant  with  chances  of  disaster. 
Now  disaster,  or  the  danger  of  it,  had  come. 
The  curt,  mysterious  telegram  from  Win- 
tenberg, which  told  him  so  little,  at  least 
told  him  that  It  ordered  him — and  he 
did  not  know  even  whose  the  order  was — 
to  delay  Rischenheim's  audience,  or,  if  he 
could  not,  to  get  the  king  away  from 
Zenda:  why  he  was  to  act  thus  was  not 
disclosed  to  him.  But  he  knew  as  well  as 
I  that  Rischenheim  was  completely  in 
Rupert's  hands,  and  he  could  not  fail  to 
guess  that  something  had  gone  wrong  at 
Wintenberg,  and  that  Rischenheim  came 
to  tell  the  king  some  news  that  the  king 
must  not  hear.  His  task  sounded  simple, 
but  it  was  not  easy ;  for  he  did  not  know 
where  Rischenheim  was,  and  so  could 
not  prevent  his  coming;  besides,  the  king 
had  been  very  pleased   to  learn  of  the 

Copyright  1897,  by  A.  H 


count's  approaching  visit,  since  he  de- 
sired to  talk  with  him  on  the  subject  of  a 
certain  breed  of  dogs,  which  the  count 
bred  with  great,  his  Majesty  with  only  in- 
different success ;  therefore  he  had  declared 
that  nothing  should  interfere  with  his  re- 
ception of  Rischenheim.  In  vain  Sapt  told 
him  that  a  large  boar  had  been  seen  in  the 
forest,  and  that  a  fine  day's  sport  might  be 
expected  if  he  would  hunt  next  day.  "  I 
shouldn't  be  back  in  time  to  see  Rischen- 
heim," said  the  king. 

"  Your  Majesty  would  be  back  by  night- 
fall," suggested  Sapt. 

"  I  should  be  too  tired  to  talk  to  him, 
and  I've  a  great  deal  to  discuss." 

"  You  could  sleep  at  the  hunting-lodge, 
sire,  and  ride  back  to  receive  the  count 
next  morning." 

"  I'm  anxious  to  see  him  as  soon  as  may 
be. ' '  Then  he  looked  up  at  Sapt  with  a  sick 
man's  quick  suspicion.  "Why  shouldn't 
I  see  him  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It's  a  pity  to  miss  the  boar,  sire,"  was 
all  Sapt's  plea.    The  king  made  light  of  it. 

"  Curse  the  boar!  "  said  he.  "I  want  to 
know  how  he  gets  the  dogs'  coats  so  fine." 

As  the  king  spoke  a  servant  entered, 
carrying  a  telegram  for  Sapt.  The  colo- 
nel took  it  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

11  Read  it,"  said  the  king.  He  had  dined 
and  was  about  to  go  to  bed,  it  being  nearly 
ten  o'clock. 


Hawkins. 


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RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


"  It  will  keep,  sire,"  answered  Sapt,  who 
did  not  know  but  that  it  might  be  from 
Wintenberg. 

"  Read  it,"  insisted  the  king  testily.  "It 
may  be  from  Rischenheim.  Perhaps  he 
can  get  here  sooner.  I  should  like  to 
know  about  those  dogs.     Read  it,  I  beg." 

Sapt  could  do  nothing  but  read  it.  He 
had  taken  to  spectacles  lately,  and  he 
spent  a  long  while  adjusting  them  and 
thinking  what  he  should  do  if  the  message 
Were  not  fit  for  the  king's  ear.  "  Be 
quick,  man,  be  quick!  "  urged  the  irritable 
king. 

Sapt  had  got  the  envelope  open  at  last, 
and  relief,  mingled  with  perplexity,  showed 
in  his  face. 

"  Your  Majesty  guessed  wonderfully 
well.  Rischenheim  can  be  here  at  eight 
to-morrow  morning,"  he  said,  looking 
up. 

M  Capital!  "  cried  the  king.  "  He  shall 
breakfast  with  me  at  nine  and  I'll  have  a 
ride  after  the  boar  when  we've  done  our 
business.     Now  are  you  satisfied  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,  sire,*'  said  Sapt,  biting  his 
moustache. 

The  king  rose  with  a  yawn,  and  bade 
the  colonel  good-night.  "  He  must  have 
some  trick  I  don't  know  with  those  dogs," 
he  remarked,  as  he  went  out.  And 
"  Damn  the  dogs!  "  cried  Colonel  Sapt  the 
moment  that  the  door  was  shut  behind  his 
Majesty. 

But  the  colonel  was  not  a  man  to  accept 
defeat  easily.  The  audience  that  he  had 
been  instructed  to  postpone  was  advanced; 
the  king,  whom  he  had  been  told  to  get 
away  from  Zenda,  would  not  go  till  he  had 
seen  Rischenheim.  Still  there  are  many 
ways  of  preventing  a  meeting.  Some  are 
by  fraud;  these  it  is  no  injustice  to  Sapt 
to  say  that  he  had  tried;  some  are  by 
force,  and  the  colonel  was  being  driven  to 
the  conclusion  that  one  of  these  must  be 
his  resort. 

"Though  the  king,"  he  mused,  with  a 
grin,  "  will  be  furious  if  anything  happens 
to  Rischenheim  before  he's  told  him  about 
the  dogs." 

Yet  he  fell  to  racking  his  brains  to  find  a 
means  by  which  the  count  might  be  ren- 
dered incapable  of  performing  the  service 
so  desired  by  the  king  and  of  carrying  out 
his  own  purpose  in  seeking  an  audience. 
Nothing  save  assassination  suggested  it- 
self to  the  constable;  a  quarrel  and  a  duel 
offered  no  security;  and  Sapt  was  not 
Black  Michael,  and  had  no  band  of  ruffians 
to  join  him  in  an  apparently  unprovoked 
kidnapping  of  a  distinguished  nobleman. 


"I  can  think  of  nothing,"  muttered 
Sapt,  rising  from  his  chair  and  moving 
across  towards  the  window  in  search  of 
the  fresh  air  that  a  man  so  often  thinks 
will  give  him  a  fresh  idea.  He  was  in  his 
own  quarters,  that  room  of  the  new  cha- 
teau which  opens  on  to  the  moat  immedi- 
ately to  the  right  of  the  drawbridge  as 
you  face  the  old  castle;  it  was  the  room 
which  Duke  Michael  had  occupied,  and 
almost  opposite  to  the  spot  where  the 
great  pipe  had  connected  the  window  of 
the  king's  dungeon  with  the  waters  of  the 
moat.  The  bridge  was  down  now,  for 
peaceful  days  had  come  to  Zenda;  the 
pipe  was  gone,  and  the  dungeon's  window, 
though  still  barred,  was  uncovered.  The 
night  was  clear,  and  fine,  and  the  still 
water  gleamed  fitfully  as  the  moon,  half- 
full,  escaped  from  or  was  hidden  by 
passing  clouds.  Sapt  stood  staring  out 
gloomily,  beating  his  knuckles  on  the 
stone  sill.  The  fresh  air  was  there,  but 
the  fresh  idea  tarried. 

Suddenly  the  constable  bent  forward, 
craning  his  head  out  and  down,  far  as  he 
could  stretch  it,  towards  the  water.  What 
he  had  seen,  or  seemed  dimly  to  see,  is  a 
sight  common  enough  on  the  surface  of 
water — large  circular  eddies,  widening 
from  a  centre;  a  stone  thrown  in  makes 
them,  or  a  fish  on  the  rise.  But  Sapt  had 
thrown  no  stone,  and  the  fish  in  the  moat 
were  few  and  not  rising  then.  The  light 
was  behind  Sapt,  and  threw  his  figure 
into  bold  relief.  The  royal  apartments 
looked  out  the  other  way;  there  were  no 
lights  in  the  windows  this  side  the  bridge, 
although  beyond  it  the  guards'  lodgings 
and  the  servants'  offices  still  showed  a 
light  here  and  there.  Sapt  waited  till  the 
eddies  ceased.  Then  he  heard  the  faint- 
est sound,  as  of  a  large  body  let  very 
gently  into  the  water;  a  moment  later, 
from  the  moat  right  below  him,  a  man's 
head  emerged. 

"  Sapt!  "  said  a  voice,  low  but  distinct. 

The  old  colonel  started,  and,  resting 
both  hands  on  the  sill,  bent  further  out, 
till  he  seemed  in  danger  of  overbalanc- 
ing. 

"  Quick — to  the  ledge  on  the  other 
side.  You  know,"  said  the  voice,  and 
the  head  turned;  with  quick,  quiet  strokes 
the  man  crossed  the  moat  till  he  was  hid- 
den in  the  triangle  of  deep  shade  formed 
by  the  meeting  of  the  drawbridge  and  the 
old  castle  wall.  Sapt  watched  him  go, 
almost  stupefied  by  the  sudden  wonder  of 
hearing  that  voice  come  to  him  out  of  the 
stillness  of  the  night.     For  the  king  was 


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abed;  and  who  spoke  in  that  voice  save 
the  king  and  one  other  ? 

Then,  with  a  curse  at  himself  for  his 
delay,  he  turned  and  walked  quickly 
across  the  room.  Opening  the  door,  he 
found  himself  in  the  passage.  But  here 
he  ran  right  into  the  arms  of  young  Bernen- 
stein,  the  officer  of  the  guard,  who  was 
going  his  rounds.  Sapt  knew  and  trusted 
him,  for  he  had  been  with  us  all  through 
the  siege  of  Zenda,  when  Michael  kept  the 
king  a  prisoner,  and  he  bore  marks  given 
him  by  Rupert  of  Hentzau's  ruffians. 
He  now  held  a  commission  as  lieutenant 
in  the  cuirassiers  of  the  King's  Guard. 

He  noticed  Sapt's  bearing,  for  he  cried 
out  in  a  low  voice,  "  Anything  wrong, 
sir?" 

••  Bernenstein,  my  boy,  the  castle's  all 
right  about  here.  Go  round  to  the  front, 
and,  hang  you,  stay  there,"  said  Sapt. 

The  officer  stared,  as  well  he  might. 
Sapt  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"  No,  stay  here.  See,  stand  by  the 
door  there  that  leads  to  the  royal  apart- 
ments. Stand  there,  and  let  nobody 
pass.     You  understand  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  And  whatever  you  hear,  don't  look 
round." 

Bernenstein's  bewilderment  grew  great- 
er ;  but  Sapt  was  constable,  and  on  Sapt's 
shoulders  lay  the  responsibility  for  the 
safety  of  Zenda  and  all  in  it. 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a  submis- 
sive shrug,  and  he  drew  his  sword  and 
stood  by  the  door;  he  could  obey,  al- 
though he  could  not  understand. 

Sapt  ran  on.  Opening  the  gate  that 
led  to  the  bridge,  he  sped  across.  Then, 
stepping  on  one  side  and  turning  his  face 
to  the  wall,  he  descended  the  steps  that 
gave  foothold  down  to  the  ledge  running 
six  or  eight  inches  above  the  water.  He 
also  was  now  in  the  triangle  of  deep  dark- 
ness, yet  he  knew  that  a  man  was  there, 
who  stood  straight  and  tall,  rising  above 
his  own  height.  And  he  felt  his  hand 
caught  in  a  sudden  grip.  Rudolf  Rassen- 
dyll  was  there,  in  his  wet  drawers  and 
socks. 

4  *  Is  it  you  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"Yes,"  answered  Rudolf;  "I  swam 
round  from  the  other  side  and  got  here. 
Then  I  threw  in  a  bit  of  mortar,  but  I 
wasn't  sure  I'd  roused  you,  and  I  didn't 
dare  shout,  so  I  followed  it  myself.  Lay 
hold  of  me  a  minute  while  I  get  on  my 
breeches:  I  didn't  want  to  get  wet,  so  I 
carried  my  clothes  in  a  bundle.  Hold  me 
tight,  it's  slippery." 


"In  God's  name  what  brings  you 
here?"  whispered  Sapt,  catching  Rudolf 
by  the  arm  as  he  was  directed. 

"The  queen's  service.  When  does 
Rischenheim  come  ? " 

"  To-morrow  at  eight." 

"The  deuce!  That's  earlier  than  I 
thought.     And  the  king  ?  " 

"  Is  here  and  determined  to  see  him. 
It's  impossible  to  move  him  from  it." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence;  Rudolf 
drew  his  shirt  over  his  head  and  tucked  it 
into  his  trousers.  "  Give  me  the  jacket 
and  waistcoat,"  he  said.  "  I  feel  deuced 
damp  underneath,  though." 

"You'll  soon  get  dry,"  grinned  Sapt. 
"  You'll  be  kept  moving,  you  see." 

"  I've  lost  my  hat." 

"Seems  to  me  you've  lost  your  head 
too." 

"  You'll  find  me  both,  eh,  Sapt  ?  " 

"As  good  as  your  own,  anyhow," 
growled  the  constable. 

"  Now  the  boots,  and  I'm  ready. "  Then 
he  asked  quickly,  "  Has  the  king  seen  or 
heard  from  Rischenheim  ?  " 

"  Neither,  except  through  me." 

*  •  Then  why  is  he  so  set  on  seeing  him  ? ' ' 

"  To  find  out  what  gives  dogs  smooth 
coats." 

"You're  serious?  Hang  you,  I  can't 
see  your  face." 

"Absolutely." 

"  All's  well,  then, 
now?" 

"Yes." 

"  Confound  him! 
anywhere  to  talk  ?" 

"What  the  deuce 
for?" 

"  To  meet  Rischenheim." 

"To  meet ?" 

"Yes.  Sapt,  he's  got  a  copy  of  the 
queen's  letter." 

Sapt  twirled  his  moustache. 

"I've  always  said  as  much,"  he  re- 
marked in  tones  of  satisfaction.  He 
need  not  have  said  it;  he  would  have  been 
more  than  human  not  to  think  it. 

"Where  can  you  take  me  to?"  asked 
Rudolf  impatiently. 

"  Any  room  with  a  door  and  a  lock  to 
it,"  answered  old  Sapt.  "I  command 
here,  and  when  I  say  *  Stay  out ' — well, 
they  don't  come  in." 

"  Not  the  king  ?  " 

"The  king  is  in  bed.  Come  along," 
and  the  constable  set  his  toe  on  the  lowest 
step. 

"Is  there  nobody  about  ? "  asked  Ru- 
dolf, catching  his  arm. 

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238 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


"  Bernenstein;  but  he  will  keep  his  back 
toward  us." 

•'Your  discipline  is  still  good,  then, 
Colonel  ?" 

'"  Pretty  well  for  these  days,  your  Ma- 
jesty," grunted  Sapt,  as  he  reached  the 
level  of  the  bridge. 

Having  crossed,  they  entered  the  cha- 
teau. The  passage  was  empty,  save  for 
Bernenstein,  whose  broad  back  barred  the 
way  from  the  royal  apartments. 

"In  here,"  whispered  Sapt,  laying  his 
hand  on  the  door  of  the  room  whence  he 
had  come. 

"All  right,"  answered  Rudolf.  Ber- 
nenstein's  hand  twitched,  but  he  did  not 
look  round.  There  was  discipline  in  the 
castle  of  Zenda. 

But  as  Sapt  was  half-way  through  the 
door  and  Rudolf  about  to  follow  him,  the 
other  door,  that  which  Bernenstein 
guarded,  was  softly  yet  swiftly  opened. 
Bernenstein's  sword  was  in  rest  in  an  in- 
stant. A  muttered  oath  from  Sapt  and 
Rudolf's  quick  snatch  at  his  breath 
greeted  the  interruption.  Bernenstein  did 
not  look  round,  but  his  sword  fell  to  his 
side.  In  the  doorway  stood  Queen  Fla- 
via,  all  in  white;  and  now  her  face  turned 
white  as  her  dress.  For  her  eyes  had 
fallen  on  Rudolf  Rassendyll.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  four  stood  thus;  then  Rudolf 
passed  Sapt,  thrust  Bernenstein's  brawny 
shoulders  (the  young  man  had  not  looked 
round)  out  of  the  way,  and,  falling  on  his 
knee  before  the  queen,  seized  her  hand 
and  kissed  it.  Bernenstein  could  see  now 
without  looking  round,  and  if  astonish- 
ment could  kill,  he  would  have  been  a 
dead  man  that  instant.  He  fairly  reeled 
and  leant  against  the  wall,  his  mouth 
hanging  open.  For  the  king  was  in  bed, 
and  had  a  beard;  yet  there  was  the  king, 
fully  dressed  and  clean  shaven,  and  he 
was  kissing  the  queen's  hand,  while  she 
gazed  down  on  him  in  a  struggle  between 
amazement,  fright,  and  joy.  A  soldier 
should  be  prepared  for  anything,  but  I 
cannot  be  hard  on  young  Bernenstein's 
bewilderment. 

Yet  there  was  in  truth  nothing  strange 
in  the  queen  seeking  to  see  old  Sapt  that 
night,  nor  in  her  guessing  where  he  would 
most  probably  be  found.  For  she  had  asked 
him  three  times  whether  news  had  come 
from  Wintenberg  and  each  time  he  had 
put  her  off  with  excuses.  Quick  to  fore- 
bode evil,  and  conscious  of  the  pledge  to 
fortune  that  she  had  given  in  her  letter, 
she  had  determined  to  know  from  him 
whether  there  were  really  cause  for  alarm, 


and  had  stolen,  undetected,  from  her 
apartments  to  seek  him.  What  filled  her 
at  once  with  unbearable  apprehension  and 
incredulous  joy  was  to  find  Rudolf  present 
in  actual  flesh  and  blood,  no  longer  in  sad 
longing  dreams  or  visions,  and  to  feel  his 
live  lips  on  her  hand. 

Lovers  count  neither  time  nor  danger; 
but  Sapt  counted  both,  and  no  more  than 
a  moment  had  passed  before,  with  eager 
imperative  gestures,  he  beckoned  them  to 
enter  the  room.  The  queen  obeyed,  and 
Rudolf  followed  her. 

"  Let  nobody  in,  and  don't  say  a  word 
to  anybody,"  whispered  Sapt,  as  he  en- 
tered, leaving  Bernenstein  outside.  The 
young  man  was  half-dazed  still,  but  he 
had  sense  to  read  the  expression  in  the 
constable's  eyes  and  to  learn  from  it  that 
he  must  give  his  life  sooner  than  let  the 
door  be  opened.  So  with  drawn  sword  he 
stood  on  guard. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  when  the  queen 
came,  and  midnight  had  struck  from  the 
great  clock  of  the  castle  before  the  door 
opened  again  and  Sapt  came  out.  His 
sword  was  not  drawn,  but  he  had  his  re- 
volver in  his  hand.  He  shut  the  door 
silently  after  him  and  began  at  once  to 
talk  in  low,  earnest,  quick  tones  to  Bernen- 
stein. Bernenstein  listened  intently  and 
without  interrupting.  Sapt's  story  ran  on 
for  eight  or  nine  minutes.  Then  he 
paused,  before  asking: 

"  You  understand  now  ? " 

"  Yes,  it  is  wonderful,"  said  the  young 
man,  drawing  in  his  breath. 

"Pooh!"  said  Sapt.  "Nothing  is 
wonderful:  some  things  are  unusual." 

Bernenstein  was  not  convinced,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders  in  protest. 

"Well?"  said  the  constable,  with  a 
quick  glance  at  him. 

"I  would  die  for  the  queen,  sir,"  he 
answered,  clicking  his  heels  together  as 
though  on  parade. 

"Good,"  said  Sapt.  "Then  listen," 
and  he  began  again  to  talk.  Bernenstein 
nodded  from  time  to  time.  "  You'll  meet 
him  at  the  gate,"  said  the  constable,  "  and 
bring  him  straight  here.  He's  not  to  go 
anywhere  else,  you  understand  me?" 

"Perfectly,  Colonel,"  smiled  young 
Bernenstein. 

"The  king  will  be  in  this  room — the 
king.     You  know  who  is  the  king  ?  " 

"Perfectly,  Colonel." 

"  And  when  the  interview  is  ended,  and 
we  go  to  breakfast " 

"I  know  who  will  be  the  king  then. 
Yes,  Colonel." 


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"  Good.  But  we  do  him  no  harm  un- 
less  " 

"  It  is  necessary." 

•'Precisely." 

Sapt  turned  away  with  a  little  sigh. 
Bernenstein  was  an  apt  pupil,  but  the  colo- 
nel was  exhausted  by  so  much  explana- 
tion. He  knocked  softly  at  the  door  of 
the  room.  The  queen's  voice  bade  him 
enter,  and  he  passed  in.  Bernenstein  was 
left  alone  again  in  the  passage,  pondering 
over  what  he  had  heard  and  rehearsing  the 
part  that  it  now  fell  to  him  to  play.  As 
he  thought  he  may  well  have  raised  his 
head  proudly.  The  service  seemed  so 
great  and  the  honor  so  high,  that  he  almost 
wished  he  could  die  in  the  performing  of 
his  r6le.  It  would  be  a  finer  death  than 
his  soldier's  dreams  had  dared  to  picture. 

At  one  o'clock  Colonel  Sapt  came  out. 

"  Go  to  bed  till  six,"  said  he  to  Ber- 
nenstein. 

"  I'm  not  sleepy." 

"  No,  but  you  will  be  at  eight  if  you 
don't  sleep  now." 

"  Is  the  queen  coming  out,  Colonel  ?  " 

"  In  a  minute,  Lieutenant." 

"  I  should  like  to  kiss  her  hand." 

"Well,  if  you  think  it  worth  waiting  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  for! "  said  Sapt,  with 
a  slight  smile. 

"You  said  a  minute,  sir." 

"  So  did  she,"  answered  the  constable. 

Nevertheless  it  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
before  Rudolf  Rassendyll  opened  the  door 
and  the  queen  appeared  on  the  threshold. 
She  was  very  pale ,  and  she  had  been  cry- 
ing, but  her  eyes  were  happy  and  her  air 
firm.  The  moment  he  saw  her,  young 
Bernenstein  fell  on  his  knee  and  raised 
her  hand  to  his  lips. 

"  To  the  death,  madame,"  said  he,  in  a 
trembling  voice. 

"I  knew  it,  sir,"  she  answered  gra- 
ciously. Then  she  looked  round  on  the 
three  of  them.  ••Gentlemen,"  said  she, 
"  my  servants  and  dear  friends,  with  you, 
and  with  Fritz  who  lies  wounded  in  Win- 
tenberg,  rest  my  honor  and  my  life;  for  I 
will  not  live  if  the  letter  reaches  the  king." 

"  The  king  shall  not  have  it,  madame," 
said  Colonel  Sapt. 

He  took  her  hand  in  his  and  patted  it  with 
a  clumsy  gentleness;  smiling,  she  extended 
it  again  to  young  Bernenstein,  in  mark  of 
her  favor.  They  two  then  stood  at  the 
salute,  while  Rudolf  walked  with  her  to  the 
end  of  the  passage.  There  for  a  moment 
she  and  he  stood  together;  the  others 
turned  their  eyes  away  and  thus  did  not 
see  her  suddenly  stoop  and  cover  his  hand 


with  her  kisses.  He  tried  to  draw  it  away, 
not  thinking  it  fit  that  she  should  kiss  his 
hand,  but  she  seemed  as  though  she  could 
not  let  it  go.  Yet  at  last,  still  with  her 
eyes  on  his,  she  passed  backwards  through 
the  door,  and  he  shut  it  after  her. 

"  Now  to  business,"  said  Colonel  Sapt 
dryly;  and  Rudolf  laughed  a  little. 

Rudolf  passed  into  the  room.  Sapt  went 
to  the  king's  apartments,  and  asked  the 
physician  whether  his  Majesty  were  sleep- 
ing well.  Receiving  reassuring  news  of 
the  royal  slumbers,  he  proceeded  to  the 
quarters  of  the  king's  body-servant, 
knocked  up  the  sleepy  wretch,  and  ordered 
breakfast  for  the  king  and  the  Count  of 
Luzau-Rischenheim  at  nine  o'clock  pre- 
cisely, in  the  morning-room  that  looked 
out  over  the  avenue  leading  to  the  en- 
trance of  the  new  chateau.  This  done,  he 
returned  to  the  room  where  Rudolf  was, 
carried  a  chair  into  the. passage,  bade  Ru- 
dolf lock  the  door,  sat  down,  revolver  in 
hand,  and  himself  went  to  sleep.  Young 
Bernenstein  was  in  bed  just  now,  taken 
faint,  and  the  constable  himself  was  act- 
ing as  his  substitute;  that  was  to  be  the 
story,  if  a  story  were  needed.  Thus  the 
hours  from  two  to  six  passed  that  morn- 
ing in  the  castle  of  Zenda. 

At  six  the  constable  awoke  and  knocked 
at  the  door;  Rudolf  Rassendyll  opened  it. 

"  Slept  well  ?  "  asked  Sapt. 

"  Not  a  wink,"  answered  Rudolf  cheer- 
fully. 

"  I  thought  you  had  more  nerve." 

"  It  wasn't  want  of  nerve  that  kept  me 
awake,"  said  Mr.  Rassendyll. 

Sapt,  with  a  pitying  shrug,  looked 
round.  The  curtains  of  the  window  were 
half-drawn.  The  table  was  moved  near  to 
the  wall,  and  the  armchair  by  it  was  well 
in  shadow,  being  quite  close  to  the  cur- 
tains. 

"There's  plenty  of  room  for  you  be- 
hind," said  Rudolf;  "and  when  Rischen- 
heim  is  seated  in  his  chair  opposite  to 
mine,  you  can  put  your  barrel  against  his 
head  by  just  stretching  out  your  hand. 
And  of  course  I  can  do  the  same." 

"  Yes,  it  looks  well  enough,"  said  Sapt, 
with  an  approving  nod. 

"  What  about  the  beard  ?  " 

"  Bernenstein  is  to  tell  him  you've 
shaved  this  morning." 

"Will  he  believe  that?" 

"Why  not?  For  his  own  sake  he'd 
better  believe  everything." 

"  And  if  we  have  to  kill  him  ? " 

"  We  must  run  for  it.  The  king  would 
be  furious." 


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240 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


"  He's  fond  of  him?" 

"  You  forget.  He  wants  to  know  about 
the  dogs." 

"True.  You'll  be  in  your  place  in 
time?" 

"Of  course." 

Rudolf  Rassendyll  took  a  turn  up  and 
down  the  room.  It  was  easy  to  see  that 
the  events  of  the  night  had  disturbed  him. 
Sapt's  thoughts  were  running  in  a  different 
channel. 

"When  we've  done  with  this  fellow, 
we  must  find  Rupert/'  said  he. 

Rudolf  started. 

"Rupert?  Rupert?  True;  I  forgot. 
Of  course  we  must,"  said  he  confusedly. 

Sapt  looked  scornful ;  he  knew  that  his 
companion's  mind  had  been  occupied  with 
the  queen.  But  his  remarks — if  he  had 
meditated  any — were  interrupted  by  the 
clock  striking  seven. 

"  He'll  be  here  in  an  hour,"  said  he. 

"  We're  ready  for  him,"  answered  Ru- 
dolf Rassendyll.  With  the  thought  of  ac- 
tion his  eyes  grew  bright  and  his  brow 
smooth  again.  He  and  old  Sapt  looked  at 
one  another,  and  they  both  smiled. 

"  Like  old  times,  isn't  it,  Sapt  ?  " 

"  Aye,  sire,  like  the  reign  of  good  King 
Rudolf." 

Thus  they  made  ready  for  the  Count 
of  Luzau-Rischenheim,  while  my  cursed 
wound  held  me  a  prisoner  at  Wintenberg. 
It  is  still  a  sorrow  to  me  that  I  know  what 
passed  that  morning  only  by  report,  and 
had  not  the  honor  of  bearing  a  part  in  it. 
Still,  her  Majesty  did  not  forget  me,  but 
remembered  that  I  would  have  taken  my 
share,  had  fortune  allowed.  Indeed  I 
would  most  eagerly. 


CHAPTER  V. 

AN    AUDIENCE   OF    THE    KINO. 

Having  come  thus  far  in  the  story  that 
I  set  out  to  tell,  I  have  half  a  mind  to  lay 
down  my  pen,  and  leave  untold  how 
from  the  moment  that  Mr.  Rassendyll 
came  again  to  Zenda  a  fury  of  chance 
seemed  to  catch  us  all  in  a  whirlwind, 
carrying  us  whither  we  would  not,  and  ever 
driving  us  onwards  to  fresh  enterprises, 
breathing  into  us  a  recklessness  that  stood 
at  no  obstacle,  and  a  devotion  to  the  queen 
and  to  the  man  she  loved  that  swept  away 
all  other  feeling.  The  ancients  held  there 
to  be  a  fate  which  would  have  its  fill, 
though  women  wept  and  men  died,  and 
none   could  tell  whose  was  the  guilt  nor 


who  fell  innocent.  Thus  did  they  blindly 
wrong  God's  providence.  Yet,  save  that 
we  are  taught  to  believe  that  all  is  ruled,  we 
are  as  blind  as  they,  and  are  still  left  won- 
dering why  all  that  is  true  and  generous 
and  love's  own  fruit  must  turn  so  often 
to  woe  and  shame,  exacting  tears  and 
blood.  For  myself  I  would  leave  the 
thing  untold,  lest  a  word  of  it  should  seem 
to  stain  her  whom  I  serve;  it  is  by  her  own 
command  I  write,  that  all  may  one  day, 
in  time's  fullness,  be  truly  known,  and 
those  condemn  who  are  without  sin,  while 
they  pity  whose  own  hearts  have  fought 
the  equal  fight.  So  much  for  her  and 
him;  for  us  less  needs  be  said.  It  was  not 
ours  to  weigh  her  actions:  we  served  her; 
him  we  had  served.  She  was  our  queen; 
we  bore  heaven  a  grudge  that  he  was  not 
our  king.  The  worst  of  what  befell  was 
not  of  our  own  planning,  no,  nor  of  our  hop- 
ing. It  came  a  thunderbolt  from  the  hand 
of  Rupert,  flung  carelessly  between  a  curse 
and  a  laugh;  its  coming  entangled  us  more 
tightly  in  the  net  of  circumstances.  Then 
there  arose  in  us  that  strange  and  over- 
powering desire  of  which  I  must  tell  later, 
rilling  us  with  a  zeal  to  accomplish  our 
purpose,  and  to  force  Mr.  Rassendyll 
himself  into  the  way  we  chose.  Led  by 
this  star,  we  pressed  on  through  the  dark- 
ness, until  at  length  the  deeper  darkness 
fell  that  stayed  our  steps.  We  also  stand 
for  judgment,  even  as  she  and  he.  So  I 
will  write;  but  I  will  write  plainly  and 
briefly,  setting  down  what  I  must,  and  no 
more,  yet  seeking  to  give  truly  the  picture 
of  that  time,  and  to  preserve  as  long  as 
may  be  the  portrait  of  the  man  whose  like 
I  have  not  known.  Yet  the  fear  is  always 
upon  me  that,  failing  to  show  him  as  he 
was,  I  may  fail  also  in  gaining  an  under- 
standing of  how  he  wrought  on  us,  one 
and  all,  till  his  cause  became  in  all  things 
the  right,  and  to  seat  him  where  he  should 
be  our  highest  duty  and  our  nearest  wish. 
For  he  said  little,  and  that*  straight  to  the 
purpose;  no  high-flown  words  of  his  live 
in  my  memory.  And  he  asked  nothing 
for  himself.  Yet  his  speech  and  his  eyes 
went  straight  to  men's  hearts  and  women's, 
so  that  they  held  their  lives  in  an  eager 
attendance  on  his  bidding.  Do  I  rave  ? 
Then  Sapt  was  a  raver  too,  for  Sapt  was 
foremost  in  the  business. 

At  ten  minutes  to  eight  o'clock,  young 
Bernenstein,  very  admirably  and  smartly 
accoutred,  took  his  stand  outside  the  main 
entrance  of  the  castle.  He  wore  a  confi- 
dent air  that  became  almost  a  swagger  as 
he  strolled  to  and  fro  past  the  motionless 


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sentries.  He  had  not  long  to  wait.  On 
the  stroke  of  eight  a  gentleman,  well- 
horsed  but  entirely  unattended,  rode  up 
the  carriage  drive.  Bernenstein,  crying 
"  Ah,  it  is  the  count!  M  ran  to  meet  him. 
Rischenheim  dismounted,  holding  out  his 
hand  to  the  young  officer. 

"My  dear  Bernenstein!"  said  he,  for 
they  were  acquainted  with  one  another. 

"You're  punctual,  my  dear  Rischen- 
heim, and  it's  lucky,  for  the  king  awaits 
you  most  impatiently." 

"  I  didn't  expect  to  find  him  up  so 
soon,"  remarked  Rischenheim. 

"Up!  He's  been  up  these  two  hours. 
Indeed  we've  had  the  devil  of  a  time  of 
it.  Treat  him  carefully,  my  dear  Count; 
he's  in  one  of  his  troublesome  humors. 
For  example — but  I  mustn't  keep  you 
waiting.     Pray  follow  me." 

"  No,  but  pray  tell  me.  Otherwise  I 
might  say  something  unfortunate." 

"Well,  he  woke  at  six;  and  when  the 
barber  came  to  trim  his  beard  there  were 
— imagine  it,  Count! — no  less  than  seven 
gray  hairs.  The  king  fell  into  a  passion. 
'Take  it  off,'  he  said.  'Take  it  off.  I 
won't  have  a  gray  beard!  Take  it  off!* 
Well,  what  would  you  ?  A  man  is  free  to 
be  shaved  if  he  chooses,  so  much  more  a 
king.     So  it's  taken  off." 

"His  beard!" 

"  His  beard,  my  dear  Count.  Then, 
after  thanking  heaven  it  was  gone,  and 
declaring  he  looked  ten  years  younger,  he 
cried,  '  The  Count  of  Luzau-Rischenheim 
breakfasts  with  me  to-day:  what  is  there 
for  breakfast  ? '  And  he  had  the  chef  out 
of  his  bed  and —  But,  by  heavens,  I  shall 
get  into  trouble  if  I  stop  here  chattering. 
He's  waiting  most  eagerly  for  you.  Come 
along."  And  Bernenstein,  passing  his  arm 
through  the  count's,  walked  him  rapidly 
into  the  castle. 

The  Count  of  Luzau-Rischenheim  was 
a  young  man;  he  was  no  more  versed  in 
affairs  of  this  kind  than  Bernenstein,  and 
it  cannot  be  said  that  he  showed  so  much 
aptitude  for  them.  He  was  decidedly  pale 
this  morning;  his  manner  was  uneasy,  and 
his  hands  trembled.  He  did  not  lack  cour- 
age, but  that  rarer  virtue,  coolness;  and 
the  importance — or  perhaps  the  shame — 
of  his  mission  upset  the  balance  of  his 
nerves.  Hardly  noting  where  he  went,  he 
allowed  Bernenstein  to  lead  him  quickly 
and  directly  towards  the  room  where  Ru- 
dolf Rassendyll  was,  not  doubting  that 
he  was  being  conducted  to  the  king's 
presence. 

"Breakfast  is  ordered  for  nine,"  said 


Bernenstein,  "  but  he  wants  to  see  you  be- 
fore. He  has  something  important  to 
say;  and  you  perhaps  have  the  same? " 

"  I  ?  Oh,  no.  A  small  matter;  but — 
er— of  a  private  nature." 

"  Quite  so,  quite  so.  Oh,  I  don't  ask 
any  questions,  my  dear  Count." 

"Shall  I  find  the  king  alone?"  asked 
Rischenheim  nervously. 

"  I  don't  think  you'll  find  anybody 
with  him;  no,  nobody,  I  think,"  answered 
Bernenstein,  with  a  grave  and  reassuring 
air. 

They  arrived  now  at  the  door.  Here 
Bernenstein  paused. 

"I  am  ordered  to  wait  outside  till  his 
Majesty  summons  me,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice,  as  though  he  feared  that  the  irrita- 
ble king  would  hear  him.  "1*11  open  the 
door  and  announce  you.  Pray  keep  him 
in  a  good  temper,  for  all  our  sakes." 
And  he  flung  the  door  open,  saying,  "  Sire, 
the  Count  of  Luzau-Rischenheim  has  the 
honor  to  wait  on  your  Majesty."  With 
this  he  shut  the  door  promptly,  and  stood 
against  it.  Nor  did  he  move,  save  once, 
and  then  only  to  take  out  his  revolver  and 
carefully  inspect  it. 

The  count  advanced,  bowing  low,  and 
striving  to  conceal  a  visible  agitation.  He 
saw  the  king  in  his  arm-chair;  the  king 
wore  a  suit  of  brown  tweeds  (none  the 
better  for  being  crushed  into  a  bundle  the 
night  before) ;  his  face  was  in  deep  shadow, 
but  Rischenheim  perceived  that  the  beard 
was  indeed  gone.  The  king  held  out  his 
hand  to  Rischenheim,  and  motioned  him  to 
sit  in  a  chair  just  opposite  to  him  and 
within  a  foot  of  the  window-curtains. 

"I'm  delighted  to  see  you,  my  lord," 
said  the  king. 

Rischenheim  looked  up.  Rudolf's  voice 
had  once  been  so  like  the  king's  that  no 
man  could  tell  the  difference,  but  in  the 
last  year  or  two  the  king's  had  grown 
weaker,  and  Rischenheim  seemed  to  be 
struck  by  the  vigor  of  the  tones  in  which 
he  was  addressed.  As  he  looked  up, 
there  was  a  slight  movement  in  the  cur- 
tains by  him;  it  died  away  when  the  count 
gave  no  further  signs  of  suspicion,  but 
Rudolf  had  noticed  his  surprise:  the  voice, 
when  it  next  spoke,  was  subdued. 

"  Most  delighted,"  pursued  Mr.  Rassen- 
dyll. "  For  I  am  pestered  beyond  endur- 
ance about  those  dogs.  I  can't  get  the 
coats  right.  I've  tried  everything,  but 
they  won't  come  as  I  wish.  Now,  yours 
are  magnificent." 

"  You  are  very  good,  sire.  But  I  ven- 
tured to  ask  an  audience  in  order  to " 


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242 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


"  Positively  you  must  tell  me  about  the 
dogs.  And  before  Sapt  comes,  for  I  want 
nobody  to  hear  but  myself." 

"  Your  Majesty  expects  Colonel  Sapt  ?  " 

"In  about  twenty  minutes,"  said  the 
king,  with  a  glance  at  the  clock  on  the 
mantelpiece. 

At  this  Rischenheim  became  all  on  fire 
to  get  his  errand  done  before  Sapt  ap- 
peared. 

"  The  coats  of  your  dogs,"  pursued  the 
king,  "  grow  so  beautifully " 

"  A  thousand  pardons,  sire,  but " 

"  Long  and  silky,  that  I  despair  of " 

"  I  have  a  most  urgent  and  important 
matter,"  persisted  Rischenheim  in  agony. 

Rudolf  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair 
with  a  peevish  air. 

"Well,  if  you  must,  you  must.  What 
is  this  great  affair,  Count  ?  Let  us  have  it 
over,  and  then  you  can  tell  me  about  the 
dogs. ' ' 

Rischenheim  looked  round  the  room. 
There  was  nobody;  the  curtains  were  still; 
the  king's  left  hand  caressed  his  beardless 
chin ;  the  right  was  hidden  from  his  visitor 
by  the  small  table  that  stood  between 
them. 

"  Sire,  my  cousin,  the  Count  of  Hent- 
zau,  has  entrusted  me  with  a  message." 

Rudolf  suddenly  assumed  a  stern  air. 

"  I  can  hold  no  communication,  directly 
or  indirectly,  with  the  Count  of  Hentzau," 
said  he. 

"  Pardon  me,  sire,  pardon  me.  A  docu- 
ment has  come  into  the  count's  hands 
which  is  of  vital  importance  to  your  Ma- 
jesty." 

"The  Count  of  Hentzau,  my  lord,  has 
incurred  my  heaviest  displeasure." 

"  Sire,  it  is  in  the  hopes  of  atoning  for 
his  offences  that  he  has  sent  me  here  to- 
day. There  is  a  conspiracy  against  your 
Majesty's  honor." 

"  By  whom,  my  lord?"  asked  Rudolf, 
in  cold  and  doubting  tones. 

"  By  those  who  are  very  near  your  Ma- 
jesty's person  and  very  high  in  your  Ma- 
jesty's love." 

"  Name  them." 

"  Sire,  I  dare  not.  You  would  not  be- 
lieve me.  But  your  Majesty  will  believe 
written  evidence." 

"  Show  it  me,  and  quickly.  We  may  be 
interrupted." 

"  Sire,  I  have  a  copy " 

"Oh,  a  copy,  my  lord?"  sneered  Ru- 
dolf. 

"  My  cousin  has  the  original,  and  will 
forward  it  at  your  Majesty's  command. 
A  copy  of  a  letter  of  her  Majesty's " 


"Of  the  queen's?" 

"Yes,  sire.      It   is  addressed  to " 

Rischenheim  paused. 

44  Well,  my  lord,  to  whom  ?  " 

"To  a  Mr.  Rudolf  Rassendyll." 

Now  Rudolf  played  his  part  well.  He 
did  not  feign  indifference,  but  allowed  his 
voice  to  tremble  with  emotion  as  he 
stretched  out  his  hand  and  said  in  a  hoarse 
whisper,  "  Give  it  me,  give  it  me." 

Rischenheim's  eyes  sparkled.  His  shot 
had  told:  the  king's  attention  was  his; 
the  coats  of  the  dogs  were  forgotten. 
Plainly  he  had  stirred  the  suspicions  and 
jealousy  of  the  king. 

"My  cousin,"  he  continued,  "con- 
ceives it  his  duty  to  lay  the  letter  before 
your  Majesty.     He  obtained  it " 

"A  curse  on  how  he  got  it!  Give  it 
me!" 

Rischenheim  unbuttoned  his  coat,  then 
his  waistcoat.  The  head  of  a  revolver 
showed  in  a  belt  round  his  waist.  He 
undid  the  flap  of  a  pocket  in  the  lining  of 
his  waistcoat,  and  he  began  to  draw  out 
a  sheet  of  paper. 

But  Rudolf,  great  as  his  powers  of  self- 
control  were,  was  but  human.  When  he 
saw  the  paper,  he  leant  forward,  half 
rising  from  his  chair.  As  a  result,  his 
face  came  beyond  the  shadow  of  the  cur- 
tain, and  the  full  morning  light  beat  on  it. 
As  Rischenheim  took  the  paper  out,  he 
looked  up.  He  saw  the  face  that  glared 
so  eagerly  at  him;  his  eyes  met  Rassen- 
dyll's:  a  sudden  suspicion  seized  him,  for 
the  face,  though  the  king's  face  in  every 
feature,  bore  a  stern  resolution  and  wit- 
nessed a  vigor  that  were  not  the  king's. 
In  that  instant  the  truth,  or  a  hint  of  it, 
flashed  across  his  mind.  He  gave  a  half- 
articulate  cry;  in  one  hand  he  crumpled 
up  the  paper,  the  other  flew  to  his  re- 
volver. But  he  was  too  late.  Rudolf's 
left  hand  encircled  his  hand  and  the  paper 
in  an  iron  grip;  Rudolf's  revolver  was  on 
his  temple;  and  an  arm  was  stretched  out 
from  behind  the  curtain,  holding  another 
barrel  full  before  his  eyes,  while  a  dry 
voice  said,  "You'd  best  take  it  quietly." 
Then  Sapt  stepped  out. 

Rischenheim  had  no  words  to  meet  the 
sudden  transformation  of  the  interview. 
He  seemed  to  be  able  to  do  nothing  but 
stare  at  Rudolf  Rassendyll.  Sapt  wasted 
no  time.  He  snatched  the  count's  re- 
volver and  stowed  it  in  his  own  pocket. 

"  Now  take  the  paper,"  said  he  to 
Rudolf,  and  his  barrel  held  Rischenheim 
motionless  while  Rudolf  wrenched  the  pre- 
cious document  from  his  fingers.     "  Look 


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ANTHONY  HOPE, 


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if  it's  the  right  one.  No,  don't  read  it 
through;  just  look.  Is  it  right?  That's 
good.  Now  put  your  revolver  to  his  head 
again.  I'm  going  to  search  him.  Stand 
up,  sir." 

They  compelled  the  count  to  stand  up, 
and  Sapt  subjected  him  to  a  search  that 
made  the  concealment  of  another  copy, 
or  of  any  other  document,  impossible. 
Then  they  let  him  sit  down  again.  His 
eyes  seemed  fascinated  by  Rudolf  Rassen- 
dyll. 

"Yet  you've  seen  me  before,  I  think," 
smiled  Rudolf.  "I  seem  to  remember 
you  as  a  boy  in  Strelsau  when  I  was  there. 
Now  tell  us,  sir,  where  did  you  leave  this 
cousin  of  yours?"  For  the  plan  was  to 
find  out  from  Rischenheim  where  Rupert 
was,  and  to  set  off  in  pursuit  of  Rupert 
as  soon  as  they  had  disposed  of  Rischen- 
heim. 

But  even  as  Rudolf  spoke  there  was  a 
violent  knock  at  the  door.  Rudolf  sprang 
to  open  it.  Sapt  and  his  revolver  kept 
their  places.  Bernenstein  was  on  the 
threshold,  open-mouthed. 

**  The  king's  servant  has  just  gone  by. 
He's  looking  for  Colonel  Sapt.  The  king 
has  been  walking  in  the  drive,  and  learnt 
from  a  sentry  of  Rischenheim's  arrival.  I 
told  the  man  that  you  had  taken  the  count 
for  a  stroll  round  the  castle,  and  I  did  not 
know  where  you  were.  He  says  that  the 
king  may  come  himself  at  any  moment." 

Sapt  considered  for  one  short  instant; 
then  he  was  back  by  the  prisoner's  side. 

••  We  must  talk  again  later  on,"  he  said, 
in  low  quick  tones.  "  Now  you're  going 
to  breakfast  with  the  king.  I  shall  be 
there,  and  Bernenstein.  Remember,  not  a 
word  of  your  errand,  not  a  word  of  this 
gentleman!  At  a  word,  a  sign,  a  hint,  a 
gesture,  a  motion,  as  God  lives,  I'll  put  a 
bullet  through  your  head,  and  a  thousand 
kings  shan't  stop  me.  Rudolf,  get  behind 
the  curtain.  If  there's  an  alarm  you  must 
jump  through  the  window  into  the  moat 
and  swim  for  it." 

"All  right,"  said  Rudolf  Rassendyll. 
44  I  can  read  my  letter  there." 

44  Burn  it,  you  fool." 

"When  I've  read  it  I'll  eat  it,  if  you 
like,  but  not  before." 

Bernenstein  looked  in  again.  "  Quick, 
quick!  The  man  will  be  back,"  he  whis- 
pered. 

"  Bernenstein,  did  you  hear  what  I  said 
to  the  count?" 

44  Yes,  I  heard." 

"Then  you  know  your  part.  Now, 
gentlemen,  to  the  king." 


"  Well,"  said  an  angry  voice  outside,  "  I 

wondered  how  long  I  was  to  be  kept  wait- 

•   _  »» 

ing. 

Rudolf  Rassendyll  skipped  behind  the 
curtain.  Sapt's  revolver  slipped  into  a 
handy  pocket.  Rischenheim  stood  with 
arms  dangling  by  his  side  and  his  waist- 
coat half  unbuttoned.  Young  Bernenstein 
was  bowing  low  on  the  threshold,  and 
protesting  that  the  king's  servant  had  but 
just  gone,  and  that  they  were  on  the  point 
of  waiting  on  his  Majesty.  Then  the  king 
walked  in,  pale  and  full-bearded. 

44  Ah,  Count,"  said  he,  "  I'm  glad  to  see 
you.  If  they  had  told  me  you  were  here, 
you  shouldn't  have  waited  a  minute. 
You're  very  dark  in  here,  Sapt.  Why 
don't  you  draw  back  the  curtains?"  and 
the  king  moved  towards  the  curtain  behind 
which  Rudolf  was. 

44  Allow  me,  sire,"  cried  Sapt,  darting 
past  him  and  laying  a  hand  on  the  cur- 
tain. 

A  malicious  gleam  of  pleasure  shot  into 
Rischenheim's  eyes. 

44  In  truth,  sire,"  continued  the  consta- 
ble, his  hand  on  the  curtain,  44  we  were  so 
interested  in  what  the  count  was  saying 
about  his  dogs " 

44  By  heaven,  I  forgot!  "  cried  the  king. 
44  Yes,  yes,  the  dogs.  Now  tell  me, 
Count " 

44  Your  pardon,  sire,"  put  in  young  Ber- 
nenstein, "but  breakfast  waits." 

44  Yes,  yes.  Well,  then,  we'll  have  them 
together — breakfast  and  the  dogs.  Come 
along,  Count."  The  king  passed  his  arm 
through  Rischenheim's,  adding  to  Bernen- 
stein, "Lead  the  way,  Lieutenant;  and 
you,  Colonel,  come  with  us." 

They  went  out.  Sapt  stopped  and 
locked  the  door  behind  him. 

44  Why  do  you  lock  the  door,  Colonel  ?  " 
asked  the  king. 

44  There  are  some  papers  in  my  drawer 
there,  sire." 

44  But  why  not  lock  the  drawer  ?  " 

44 1  have  lost  the  key,  sire,  like  the  fool 
I  am,"  said  the  colonel. 

The  Count  of  Luzau-RisChenheim  did 
not  make  a  very  good  breakfast.  He  sat 
opposite  to  the  king.  Colonel  Sapt  placed 
himself  at  the  back  of  the  king's  chair, 
and  Rischenheim  saw  the  muzzle  of  a  re- 
volver resting  on  the  top  of  the  chair  just 
behind  his  Majesty's  right  ear.  Bernen- 
stein stood  in  soldierly  rigidity  by  the  door; 
Rischenheim  looked  round  at  him  once 
and  met  a  most  significant  gaze. 

44  You're  eating  nothing,"  said  the  king. 
44 1  hope  you're  not  indisposed  ? r* 


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RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


"I  am  a  little  upset,  sire,"  stammered 
Rischenheim,  and  truly  enough. 

44  Well,  tell  me  about  the  dogs  while  I 
eat,  for  I'm  hungry." 

Rischenheim  began  to  disclose  his  secret. 
His  statement  was  decidedly  wanting  in 
clearness.     The  king  grew  impatient. 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  he  testily, 
and  he  pushed  his  chair  back  so  quickly 
that  Sapt  skipped  away,  and  hid  the  re- 
volver behind  his  back. 

44  Sire — "  cried  Rischenheim,  half  rising. 
A  cough  from  Lieutenant  von  Bernenstein 
interrupted  him. 

"Tell  it  me  all  over  again,"  said  the 
king. 

Rischenheim  did  as  he  was  bid. 

44  Ah,  I  understand  a  little  better  now. 
Do  you  see,  Sapt?"  and  he  turned  his 
head  round  towards  the  constable.  Sapt 
had  just  time  to  whisk  the  revolver  away. 
The  count  leant  forward  towards  the  king. 
Lieutenant  von  Bernenstein  coughed. 
The  count  sank  back  again. 

41  Perfectly,  sire,"  said  Colonel  Sapt 
44 1  understand  all  the  count  wishes  to 
convey  to  your  Majesty." 

44  Well,  I  understand  about  half,"  said 
the  king  with  a  laugh.  "  But  perhaps 
that'll  be  enough." 

44 1  think  quite  enough,  sire,"  answered 
Sapt  with  a  smile. 

The  important  matter  of  the  dogs  being 
thus  disposed  of,  the  king  recollected  that 
the  count  had  asked  for  an  audience  on  a 
matter  of  business. 

44  Now,  what  did  you  wish  to  say  to 
me?"  he  asked,  with  a  weary  air.  The 
dogs  had  been  more  interesting. 

Rischenheim  looked  at  Sapt.  The  re- 
volver was  in  its  place;  Bernenstein 
coughed  again.     Yet  he  saw  a  chance. 

44  Your  pardon,  sire,"  said  he,  "  but  we 
are  not  alone." 

The  king  lifted  his  eyebrows. 

44  Is  the  business  so  private?"  he 
asked. 

44 1  should  prefer  to  tell  it  to  your  Ma- 
jesty alone,"  pleaded  the  count. 

Now  Sapt  'was  resolved  not  to  leave 
Rischenheim  alone  with  the  king,  for,  al- 
though the  count,  being  robbed  of  his  evi- 
dence, could  do  little  harm  concerning 
the  letter,  he  would  doubtless  tell  the  king 
that  Rudolf  Rassendyll  was  in  the  castle. 
He  leant  now  over  the  king's  shoulder,  and 
said  with  a  sneer: 

44  Messages  from  Rupert  of  Hentzau  are 
too  exalted  matters  for  my  poor  ears,  it 
seems." 

The  king  flushed  red. 


44  Is  that  your  business,  my  lord  ?  "  he 
asked  Rischenheim  sternly. 

44  Your  Majesty  does  not  know  what  my 
cousin " 

44  It  is  the  old  plea?"  interrupted  the 
king.  4<  He  wants  to  come  back  ?  Is 
that  all,  or  is  there  anything  else  ?  " 

A  moment's  silence  followed  the  king's 
words.  Sapt  looked  full  at  Rischenheim, 
and  smiled  as  he  slightly  raised  his  right 
hand  and  showed  the  revolver.  Bernen- 
stein coughed  twice.  Rischenheim  sat 
twisting  his  fingers.  He  understood  that, 
cost  what  it  might,  they  would  not  let  him 
declare  his  errand  to  the  king  or  betray 
Mr.  Rassendyll's  presence.  He  cleared 
his  throat  and  opened  his  mouth  as  if  to 
speak,  but  still  he  remained  silent. 

44  Well,  my  lord,  is  it  the  old  story  or 
something  new?"  asked  the  king  impa- 
tiently. 

Again  Rischenheim  sat  silent. 

44  Are  you  dumb,  my  lord  ? "  cried  the 
king  most  impatiently. 

44  It — it  is — only  what  you  call  the  old 
story,  sire." 

44  Then  let  me  say  that  you  have  treated 
me  very  badly  in  obtaining  an  audience  of 
me  for  any  such  purpose,"  said  the  king. 
44  You  knew  my  decision,  and  your  cousin 
knows  it."  Thus  speaking,  the  king  rose; 
Sapt's  revolver  slid  into  his  pocket;  bnt 
Lieutenant  von  Bernenstein  drew  his  sword 
and  stood  at  the  salute;  he  also  coughed. 

44  My  dear  Rischenheim,"  pursued  the 
king  more  kindly,  44 1  can  allow  for  your 
natural  affection.  But,  believe  me,  in  this 
case  it  misleads  you.  Do  me  the  favor 
not  to  open  this  subject  again  to  me." 

Rischenheim,  humiliated  and  angry, 
could  do  nothing  but  bow  m  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  king's  rebuke. 

44  Colonel  Sapt,  see  that  the  count  is 
well  entertained.  My  horse  should  be  at 
the  door  by  now.  Farewell,  Count.  Ber- 
nenstein, give  me  your  arm." 

Bernenstein  shot  a  rapid  glance  at  the 
constable.  Sapt  nodded  reassuringly. 
Bernenstein  sheathed  his  sword  and  gave 
his  arm  to  the  king.  They  passed  through 
the  door,  and  Bernenstein  closed  it  with  a 
backward  push  of  his  hand.  But  at  this 
moment  Rischenheim,  goaded  to  fury  and 
desperate  at  the  trick  played  on  him — see- 
ing, moreover,  that  he  had  now  only  one 
man  to  deal  with — made  a  sudden  rush  at 
the  door.  He  reached  it,  and  his  hand  was 
on  the  door-knob.  But  Sapt  was  upon 
him,  and  Sapt's  revolver  was  at  his  ear. 

In  the  passage  the  king  stopped. 

44  What  are  they  doing  in  there?"    he 


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ANTHONY  HOPE. 


245 


asked,  hearing  the  noise  of  the  quick 
movements. 

"I  don't  know,  sire," said  Bernenstein, 
and  he  took  a  step  forward. 

"  No,  stop  a  minute,  Lieutenant;  you're 
pulling  me  along! " 

"  A  thousand  pardons,  sire." 

"I  hear  nothing  more  now."  And 
there  was  nothing  to  hear,  for  the  two 
now  stood  dead  silent  inside  the  door. 

44  Nor  I,  sire.  Will  your  Majesty  go 
on?"  And  Bernenstein  took  another 
step. 

"You're  determined  I  shall,"  said  the 
king  with  a  laugh,  and  he  let  the  young 
officer  lead  him  away. 

Inside  the  room,  Rischenheim  stood 
with  his  back  against  the  door.  He  was 
panting  for  breath,  and  his  face  was  flushed 
and  working  with  excitement.  Opposite 
to  htm  stood  Sapt,  revolver  in  hand. 

"  Till  you  get  to  heaven,  my  lord,"  said 
the  constable,  "  you'll  never  be  nearer  to 
it  than  you  were  in  that  moment.  If  you 
had  opened  the  door,  I'd  have  shot  you 
through  the  head." 

As  he  spoke  there  came  a  knock  at  the 
door. 

"Open  it,"  he  said  brusquely  to  Risch- 
enheim. With  a  muttered  curse  the  count 
obeyed  him.  A  servant  stood  outside 
with  a  telegram  on  a  salver.  "  Take  it," 
whispered  Sapt,  and  Rischenheim  put  out 
his  hand. 

"Your  pardon,  my  lord,  but  this  has 
arrived  for  you,"  said  the  man  respect- 
fully. 

"  Take  it,"  whispered  Sapt  again. 

"Give  it  me,"  muttered  Rischenheim 
confusedly;  and  he  took  the  envelope. 

The  servant  bowed  and  shut  the  door. 

"Open  it,"  commanded  Sapt. 

"  God's  curse  on  you!  "  cried  Rischen- 
heim in  a  voice  that  choked  with  passion. 

"  Eh  ?  Oh,  you  can  have  no  secrets 
from  so  good  a  friend  as  I  am,  my  lord. 
Be  quick  and  open  it." 

The  count  began  to  open  it. 

"  If  you  tear  it  up,  or  crumple  it,  I'll 
shoot   you,"    said   Sapt  quietly.      "You 


know  you  can  trust  my  word.     Now  read 
it." 

"By  God,  I  won't  read  it." 

"  Read  it,  I  tell  you,  or  say  your 
prayers." 

The  muzzle  was  within  a  foot  of  his 
head.  He  unfolded  the  telegram.  Then 
he  looked  at  Sapt.  "Read,"  said  the 
constable. 

"I  don't  understand  what  it  means," 
grumbled  Rischenheim. 

"  Possibly  I  may  be  able  to  help  you." 

"  It's  nothing  but " 

"  Read,  my  lord,  read!  " 

Then  he  read,  and  this  was  the  telegram : 

"  Holf,  19  Konigstrasse." 

"A  thousand  thanks,  my  lord.  And — 
the  place  it's  despatched  from  ?  " 

"Strelsau." 

"  Just  turn  it  so  that  I  can  see.  Oh,  I 
don't  doubt  you,  but  seeing  is  believing. 
Ah,  thanks.  It's  as  you  say.  You're 
puzzled  what  it  means,  Count  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  at  all  what  it  means!  " 

"  How  strange!  Because  I  can  guess  so 
well." 

"  You  are  very  acute,  sir." 

"  It  seems  to  me  a  simple  thing  to  guess, 
my  lord." 

"  And  pray,"  said  Rischenheim,  endeav- 
oring to  assume  an  easy  and  sarcastic  air, 
"  what  does  your  wisdom  tell  you  that  the 
message  means?" 

"  I  think,  my  lord,  that  the  message  is 
an  address." 

"  An  address!  I  never  thought  of  that. 
But  I  know  no  Holf." 

"  I  don't  think  it's  Holf's  address." 

"Whose,  then?"  asked  Rischenheim, 
biting  his  nail,  and  looking  furtively  at  the 
constable. 

"  Why,"  said  Sapt,  "  the  present  address 
of  Count  Rupert  of  Hentzau." 

As  he  spoke,  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  the 
eyes  of  Rischenheim.  He  gave  a  short, 
sharp  laugh,  then  put  his  revolver  in  his 
pocket  and  bowed  to  the  count. 

"  In  truth,  you  are  very  convenient, 
my  dear  Count,"  said  he. 


(To  b*  continued.) 


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SAMUEL  L.  CLEMENS,  "MARK  TWAIN." 

A  CHARACTER  SKETCH  BY  ROBERT  BARR. 


THE  world  loves  a  label.  It  likes  to 
classify  its  men  and  things,  docket 
thera,  and  arrange  them  nicely  on  its 
shelves,  each  in  the  proper  place.  This 
habit  probably  arises  from  the  fact  that, 
ever  since  the  indiscretion  of  Adam,  man- 
kind has  been  compelled  to  make  a  living, 
and  has  found  through  long  practice  that 
method  in  business  leads  to  success;  there- 
fore man  has  become  a  labeling  animal, 
so  inured  to  the  vice  that  he  carries  it  into 
provinces  where  it  does  not  legitimately 
belong.  Sometimes  there  drifts  across  the 
sea  of  life  a  man  whom  the  world  cannot 
fit  into  any  of  its  prearranged  pigeon- 
holes, and  him  it  either  ignores  or  turns 
upon  and  rends,  perhaps  crucifying  him. 
The  person  who  interferes  with  these  labels 
is  never  popular,  and  is  usually  howled 
down  when  he  tries  to  show  that  William 
Tell  never  existed,  or  that  William  Shakes- 
peare's works  were  written  by  Bacon,  or 
that  Nero  was  a  just  and  humane  mon- 
arch, or  that  Solomon  couldn't  have  been 
so  wise  as  reported,  otherwise  he  would 
not  have  been  so  frequently  married. 
Therefore  I  expect  little  sympathy  from 
the  intelligent  reader  when  I  detach  from 
Mark  Twain  the  card  with  the  word  "  hu- 
morist "  written  upon  it  in  large  charac- 
ters, and  venture  to  consider  the  man  un- 
influenced by  the  ready-made  verdict  of 
the  label. 

I  do  not  know  whether  this  magazine  has 
reproduced  the  photograph  of  Mark  Twain 
which  I  have  before  me  as  I  write:  the  one 
taken  by  Alfred  Ellis  of  London,  which  is, 
I  believe,  the  latest;  but  if  not,  another  will 
do  as  well,  and  I  invite  the  reader's  critical 
attention  to  it.*  Any  portrait  of  Mark 
Twain  shows  a  strong  face,  worthy  of  seri- 
ous study.  The  broad,  intellectual  brow, 
the  commanding,  penetrating  eye,  the  firm, 
well-molded  chin,  give  the  world  assurance 
of  a  man.  Recently  I  had  an  opportunity 
of  getting  an  opinion  on  this  photograph; 
an  opinion  unbiassed  by  the  label.  I  was 
traveling  through  France,  and  on  the  train 
made  the  acquaintance  of  a  silk  manu- 
facturer of  Lyons,  who  was  as  well  versed 

*  The  portrait  of  Mark  Twain  mentioned  by  Mr.  Ban- 
was  reproduced  as  the  frontispiece  of  the  November  number 
of  McClure's. — Editor. 

2A6 


in  men  and  their  affairs  as  he  was  ignorant 
of  books.  Nevertheless,  I  was  amazed 
to  learn  that  he  had  never  heard  of  Mark 
Twain,  and,  as  I  had  merely  mentioned 
the  name,  giving  him  no  indication  of 
what  it  signified,  I  took  the  photograph 
from  my  pocket,  and  handed  it  to  the 
Frenchman. 

"  That  is  a  good  representation  of  him," 
I  said,  "  and  as  you  have  seen  most  of  the 
great  personages  of  Europe,  tell  me  what 
this  man  is." 

He  gazed  intently  at  the  picture  for  a 
few  moments;  then  spoke:  "  I  should  say 
he  was  a  statesman." 

"Supposing  you  wrong  in  that,  what 
would  be  your  next  guess  ?  " 

"If  he  is  not  a  maker  of  history,  he  is 
perhaps  a  writer  of  it;  a  great  historian, 
probably.  Of  course,  it  is  impossible  for 
me  to  guess  accurately  except  by  accident, 
but  I  use  the  adjective  because  I  am  con- 
vinced that  this  man  is  great  in  his  line, 
whatever  it  is.  If  he  makes  silk,  he  makes 
the  best  silk." 

"  You  couldn't  improve  on  that  if  you 
tried  a  year.  You  have  summed  him  up  in 
your  last  sentence." 

I  am  convinced  that  in  Samuel  L. 
Clemens  America  has  lost  one  of  its 
greatest  statesmen ;  one  of  its  most  nota- 
ble Presidents.  If  he  had  been  born  a 
little  earlier,  and  if  the  storm-center  of 
politics  had  been  whirling  a  little  further 
to  the  west  forty  years  ago,  it  is  quite 
conceivable  that  to-day  we  should  be  rev- 
erencing President  Samuel  Clemens  as  the 
man  who,  with  firm  hand  on  the  tiller, 
steered  his  country  successfully  through 
the  turbulent  rapids  that  lay  ahead  of  it, 
and  that  we  might  have  known  Abraham 
Lincoln  only  as  a  teller  of  funny  stories. 
In  this  lies  the  glory  of  America,  that  in 
every  State,  perhaps  in  every  county,  we 
have  an  Abraham  Lincoln,  or  a  U.  S. 
Grant,  ready  to  act  their  parts,  silently, 
honestly,  and  modestly,  when  grim  neces- 
sity brushes  aside  the  blatant  incompetents 
whom,  with  a  careless,  optimistic  confi- 
dence, we  ordinarily  put  into  high  places. 
The  world  has  now,  without  a  single  dis- 
senting voice,  elevated  Lincoln  to  the 
highest  pedestal  a  statesman  can  attain; 


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A    CHARACTER  SKETCH  BY  ROBERT  BARR. 


247 


but  the  world  has  a  short  memory,  and  it 
forgets  that  at  the  first  it  strove  with  equal 
unanimity,  East  and  West,  on  the  continent 
of  America  no  less  than  on  the  continent 
of  Europe,  to  place  the  label  "  clown  "  on 
his  back.  I  saw  the  other  day  a  book  of 
cartoons  on  the  great  President,  taken 
from  American  and  European  sources, 
which  strike  the  modern  eye  as  little  short 
of  blasphemous.  However,  the  paste 
never  got  time  to  dry,  and  the  label  did 
not  stick. 

Mr.  Clemens  was  hardly  so  fortunate. 
In  early  life  he  conjured  up  the  cap  and 
bells,  and  the  bells  jingled  a  merry,  golden 
tune.  And  now  when  he  attempts  to  do  a 
serious  piece  of  work,  the  bells  ring  as 
they  used  to  do  in  that  somber  play  which 
Henry  Irving  has  placed  so  effectively  be- 
fore us.  Yet  Fate  made  some  effort  to 
save  Mark  Twain  from  this  canorous  shad- 
owing. The  publishers  had  "The  Inno- 
cents Abroad"  all  set  up,  printed,  and 
bound  for  nearly  two  years,  but  were 
afraid  to  issue  it,  thinking  it  might  not  be 
popular,  so  different  was  it  from  anything 
they  had  ever  seen  before.  It  came  forth 
at  last  practically  under  compulsion,  for 
the  indignant  author  gave  them,  in  a  tele- 
graph message,  the  choice  of  publishing 
the  book  or  appearing  before  the  law 
courts.  They  took  the  former  alternative, 
and  the  instant  success  of  the  volume 
stamped  Mark  Twain  as  the  humorist  of 
America,  if  not  of  the  world.  Thus  it 
comes  about  that  all  of  the  multitudinous 
articles  which  have  appeared  since  then 
upon  the  writer  of  this  book  have  treated 
of  him  entirely  as  the  funny  man,  and  have 
ignored  the  fact  that  he  has  eminent  quali- 
ties which  are  no  less  worthy  of  consider- 
ation. 

I  think  I  may  claim  with  truth  that  I 
know  Mr.  Clemens  somewhat  intimately, 
and  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that, 
although  I  have  as  keen  an  appreciation 
of  humor  as  the  next  man,  humor  is  merely 
a  small  part  of  his  mental  equipment;  per- 
haps the  smallest  part.  You  have  but  to 
look  at  the  man  to  realize  this.  His  face 
is  the  face  of  a  Bismarck.  I  have  always 
regarded  him  as  the  typical  American,  if 
there  is  such  a  person.  If  ever  the  eyes 
and  the  beak  of  the  American  eagle  were 
placed  into  and  on  a  man's  face,  Samuel  L. 
Clemens  is  that  man.  In  the  first  published 
description  of  him,  written  more  than 
thirty  years  ago,  Dr.  Hingston  says, 
"His  eyes  are  light  and  twinkling."  In 
the  most  recent  article,  Mr.  Stead  says: 
"  His  eyes  are  gray  and  kindly-looking." 


They  are  kindly-looking,  for  the  man  him- 
self is  kindly,  and  naturally  his  eyes  give 
some  index  of  this,  but  their  eagle-like, 
searching,  penetrating  quality  seems  to 
me  their  striking  peculiarity.  They  are 
eyes  that  look  into  the  future;  that  can 
read  a  man  through  and  through.  I 
should  hate  to  do  anything  particularly 
mean  and  then  have  to  meet  the  eyes  of 
Mark  Twain.  I  know  I  should  be  found 
out. 

It  is  an  achievement  for  a  man  once 
labeled  to  meet  success  outside  of  what 
the  public  consider  to  be  his  line.  This 
Mark  Twain  has  done.  "  The  Prince  and 
the  Pauper"  is  certainly  one  of  the  very 
best  historical  novels  that  ever  was  writ- 
ten, and  if  it  had  not  appeared,  some 
popular  books  which  might  be  mentioned 
would  not  now  be  in  existence.  "  Joan  of 
Arc"  has  been  hailed  by  several  of  the 
most  distinguished  critics  of  Europe  as  a 
distinct  gain  to  the  serious  literature  of 
this  country.  In  "  A  Yankee  at  the  Court 
of  King  Arthur"  the  author  ran  counter, 
not  only  to  his  own  label,  but  to  a  labeled 
section  of  history.  The  age  of  Arthur  has 
been  labeled  "  sentimental,"  and  the  icono- 
clast who  stirred  it  up  with  the  inflexible 
crowbar  of  fact  and  showed  under  what 
hard  and  revolting  conditions  the  ordi- 
nary man  then  existed,  naturally  brought 
upon  himself  the  censure  of  the  Slaves  of 
the  Label.  But  these  are  three  books 
which,  aside  from  their  intrinsic  interest, 
cause  a  man  to  think;  and  I  hope  that 
some  day  Mr.  Clemens  will  turn  his  atten- 
tion to  American  history  and  give  us  a 
volume  or  two  which  will  be  illuminating. 

There  is  a  popular  idea  that  Mark  Twain 
is  an  indolent  man,  but  as  a  matter  of. 
fact,  I  never  knew  one  who  was  so  indomi- 
tably industrious.  As  he  has  said  to  me 
on  more  than  one  occasion,  no  man  is  in- 
dolent on  a  subject  that  absorbingly  con- 
cerns him,  and  in  his  writing  Mark  Twain 
is  indefatigable,  destroying  more  manu- 
script that  does  not  entirely  satisfy  him 
than  probably  any  other  writer.  His  en- 
deavor is  to  get  his  sentences  as  perfect 
as  possible  when  first  written,  and  not  to 
depend  on  after  correction,  either  in  manu- 
script or  proof.  In  the  construction  of  the 
sentence,  in  the  careful  selection  of  the 
exact  word,  he  has  the  genius  that  con- 
sists in  taking  infinite  pains.  In  theory 
he  labors  each  day  from  eleven  to  four  or 
half-past,  and  is  content  if  he  achieves 
1,800  words;  but  in  practice  he  is  apt  to 
work  on  and  on  unless  somebody  drags 
him  away  from  his  task,  so  completely  does 

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248 


SAMUEL  L.   CLEMENS,   "MARK   TWAIN." 


he  lose  himself  in  what  he  is  doing.  On 
several  occasions,  when  living  near  him 
on  the  continent  of  Europe,  I  have  acted 
as  his  quitting-bell,  and  called  in  on  him 
when  it  was  time  for  him  to  cease  work- 
ing, so  that  we  might  take  our  pre-ar- 
ranged walk  together;  but  whether  I  inter- 
rupted him  at  four,  or  at  fiv^  or  at  six,  or 
at  seven,  he  generally  said,  "Is  time  up 
already  ?  Just  let  me  finish  this  sentence, 
and  I'll  be  with  you."  Then,  when  he  bad 
forgotten  me,  I  had  usually  to  upset  a 
chair  or  fall  over  a  sofa  to  recall  myself  to 
his  attention.  If  left  entirely  alone,  he 
would  break  the  record  as  far  as  a  day's 
work  is  concerned.  He  cannot  dictate, 
nor  does  he  use  a  typewriter;  a  fountain- 
pen  is  his  utmost  concession  to  modernity. 
His  handwriting  is  as  legible  as  print,  and 
he  invariably  uses  note  paper,  which  he 
tears  off,  sheet  after  sheet,  after  about 
150  words  have  been  written  to  the  page. 

Mr.  Clemens  is  a  most  kindly  man,  and 
I  have  been  amazed  at  the  amount  of  time 
he  wastes  in  writing  letters  of  counsel  or 
encouragement  to  utter  strangers  who 
have  the  brazen  cheek  to  make  this  or  that 
demand  upon  his  energies;  but  as  I  was. 
once  one  of  those  strangers  myself,  I  can- 
not censure  this  practice  with  the  empha- 
sis it  undoubtedly  deserves — I  am  handi- 
capped by  my  own  guilt.  As  an  instance 
of  this,  or  perhaps  I  should  say,  as  six  in- 
stances, I  now  give  some  account  of  how 
he  has  obtained  places  for  young  men 
who  desired  to  become  journalists  and 
who  wrote  to  him  invoking  his  ard  in  the 
furtherance  of  that  ambition. 

MARK    TWAIN'S     "  SYSTEM "     FOR     FINDING 
EMPLOYMENT. 

The  strong  common  sense  of  Mr.  Clem- 
ens must  have  struck  every  one  who  has 
been  brought  into  contact  with  him,  and 
I  think  the  facts  I  here  set  down  are  proof 
of  this  faculty.  It  seems  to  me  that  his 
advice  to  would-be  reporters  is  so  good 
that  it  is  a  pity  it  should  be  given  to  indi- 
viduals rather  than  to  the  general  public, 
for  it  applies  not  to  journalism  alone,  but 
to  every  department  of  effort.  At  the 
time  the  incidents  were  related  to  me,  I 
put  them  down  in  my  note-book,  and  I 
have  endeavored  to  reproduce  them  as 
nearly  as  may  be  in  Mr.  Clemens's  own 
words.  Happily  there  is  no  time  before 
this  article  appears  to  submit  a  proof  to 
him,  and  so  I  cannot  guarantee  absolute 
accuracy;  but  on  the  other  hand,  I  run  no 
risk  of  having  it  vetoed  and  thus  lost  to 


the  world;  and  in  apologizing  to  him,  I 
beg  to  add  the  time-honored  formula  of 
journalism,  that  our  columns  are  open  to 
him  should  he  desire  to  make  any  correc- 
tion. 

Mr.  Clemens  invented  a  "system" 
once;  perhaps  one  might  be  allowed  to 
call  it  a  philosophy. 

It  was  thirty-five  years  ago.  He  and 
Jim  were  cabin -mates  in  a  new  silver-min- 
ing camp  away  off  in  a  corner  of  Nevada. 
They  had  spent  weeks  in  vain  prospecting; 
their  money  was  about  out;  they  found 
themselves  compelled  to  throw  their  tools 
aside  for  a  while  and  hunt  up  a  salaried 
situation  of  one  kind  or  another.  When 
I  say  "  they,"  I  mean  Jim;  for  he  was  of 
powerful  build  and  stood  a  chance,  where- 
as his  partner  was  feeble  and  stood  none. 
Jim  went  over  into  the  valley  where  the 
quartz  mills  were,  and  tried  to  get  a  situa- 
tion, but  there  was  .not  a  vacancy  of  any 
kind.  Things  looked  dark  for  them. 
They  sat  around  many  hours,  gloomily 
brooding  and  thinking.  Then  necessity, 
the  mother  of  invention,  came  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  to  the  help  of  the  weaker 
comrade.  A  scheme  was  born  to  Clemens, 
a  scheme  founded  upon  a  common  foible 
of  our  human  nature.  He  believed  it 
would  work,  but  thought  he  would  not 
expose  it  to  criticism  and  almost  certain 
derision  until  he  had  privately  tested  it. 
Clemens  said  to  Jim: 

"Which  mill  would  you  rather  have  a 
situation  in  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  Morning  Star,  of  course;  but 
they  are  full;  there  wasn't  the  least  show 
there;  I  knew  it  before  I  went." 

"Very  well,  I  will  go  and  see  if  they 
will  give  me  a  place.  When  I  get  it  I  will 
turn  it  over  to  you." 

It  was  a  sad  time,  but  Jim  almost  smiled 
at  the  idea.     He  said: 

"  When  you  get  it.  It  was  well  to  put 
that  in.  If  they've  no  place  for  me,  what 
do  you  suppose  they  want  with  an  arrested 
development  like  you  ?  " 

Jim  was  surprised  when  Clemens  started. 
He  had  not  supposed  that  his  partner  was 
in  earnest. 

Clemens  arrived,  and  asked  the  foreman 
for  work.  It  would  have  been  natural  for 
the  foreman  to  laugh,  but  he  was  not  the 
laughing»sort.     He  said  promptly: 

"  All  full!  "  and  was  turning  away,  but 
the  young  man  said: 

"  I  know  that,  but  if  you  will  let  me 
tell  you  " — and  Clemens  went  on  and  told 
him  the  project.  He  listened,  a  little  im- 
patiently  at   first,    then    tolerantly,    and 


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finally  sympathetically — yes,  with  even  a 
distinct  friendliness  in  his  eye.  When  the 
youth  had  finished,  the  foreman  said: 

"All  right,  my  boy.  It  is  a  queer  no- 
tion, and  rather  unusual,  I  must  say.  Still, 
it's  your  own  proposition,  and  if  you  are 
satisfied  with  it,  shed  your  coat  and  be- 
gin. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  Clemens  was  back 
at  the  cabin,  pretty  well  worn  out.  Jim 
said: 

"  Why,  how  you  look  !  What  have  you 
been  doing?" 

"Screening  sand,  sorting  ore,  feeding 
batteries,  cleaning  up  amalgam,  charging 
the  pans,  firing  the  retorts — oh,  every- 
thing." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  Did  they  give  you  a  situ- 
ation ?  " 

"Yes." 

"No!" 

"  Yes  " 

"What  mill?" 

"  The  Morning  Star." 

"What  a  lie." 

"It  isn't.  It's  true.  And  I've  ar- 
ranged for  you  to  take  my  place  Monday. 
Steady  situation  as  long  as  you  like.  And 
you'll  get  wages,  too.     I  didn't." 

The  closing  remark  discloses  the  magic 
secret  of  Clemens' s  "  system,"  and  he  has 
worked  the  scheme  many  times  since. 
Compressed  into  a  sentence,  the  gospel  of 
the  system  is  this:  Almost  any  man  will 
give  you  a  situation  if  you  are  willing  to 
work  for  nothing;  the  salary  will  follow 
presently;  you  have  only  to  wait  a  little, 
and  be  patient. 

This  plan  floated  Clemens  into  journal- 
ism; then  into  book-making,  and  other 
diversions  followed.  After  a  while,  can- 
didates for  places  on  the  daily  press  and 
for  admission  to  the  magazines  began  to 
apply  to  him  for  help.  This  was  in  1870. 
They  wanted  him  to  use  his  "  influence." 
It  was  a  pleasant  phrase,  "influence" — 
and  debauched  his  honesty.  He  could  not 
bring  himself  to  come  out  and  acknowl- 
edge that  he  hadn't  any,  so  he  did  what 
ail  the  new  hands  do:  wrote  notes  of  in- 
troduction and  recommendation  to  editors, 
although  he  knew  that  the  focus  of  an  edi- 
tor's literary  judgment  could  not  be  altered 
by  such  futilities.  His  notes  accomplished 
nothing,  so  he  reformed  and  stopped  writ- 
ing: them. 

HOW   THE    "SYSTEM"    HAS  WORKED. 

But  the  applications  did  not  cease.  Then 
the  "  system  "  tested  eight  years  before,  in 


the  mines,  suggested  itself,  and  he  thought 
he  would  try  it  on  these  people.  His  first 
patient  was  a  young  stranger  out  West. 
He  was  blazingly  anxious  to  become  a  jour- 
nalist, and  believed  he  had  the  proper  stuff 
in  him  for  the  vocation;  but  he  said  he  had 
no  friends  and  no  influence,  and  all  his 
efforts  to.  get  work  on  newspapers  had 
failed.  He  asked  only  the  most  moderate 
wages,  yet  he  was  always  promptly 
snubbed,  and  could  get  no  editor  to  listen 
to  him.  Clemens  thought  out  a  sermon 
for  that  young  fellow,  and  in  substance  it 
was  to  this  effect: — 

Your  project  is  unfair.  The  physician, 
the  clergyman,  the  lawyer,  the  teacher, 
the  architect,  the  sculptor,  the  painter,  the 
engineer,  all  spend  years  and  money  in 
fitting  themselves  for  their  several  profes- 
sions, and  none  of  them  expects  to  be  paid 
a  penny  for  his  services  until  his  long  ap- 
prenticeship is  finished  and  his  competency 
established.  It  is  the  same  with  the  hum- 
bler trades.  If  you  should  go,  equipped 
with  your  splendid  ignorance,  to  the  car- 
penter or  the  tinner  or  the  shoemaker, 
and  ask  for  a  situation  and  wages,  you 
would  frighten  those  people;  they  would 
take  you  for  a  lunatic.  And  you  would 
take  me  for  a  lunatic,  if  I  should  suggest 
that  you  go  to  them  with  such  a  propo- 
sition. Then  why  should  you  have  the 
effrontery  to  ask  an  editor  for  employ- 
ment and  wages  when  you  have  served  no 
apprenticeship  to  the  trade  of  writing? 
And  yet  you  are  hardly  to  blame,  for  you 
have  the  rest  of  the  world  with  you.  It  is 
a  common  superstition  that  a  pen  is  a 
thing  which 

However,  never  mind  the  rest;  you  get 
the  idea.  It  was  probably  a  good  enough 
sermon,  but  Mr.  Clemens  has  the  impres- 
sion that  he  did  not  send  it.  He  did  send 
a  note,  however,  and  it  was  to  this  ef- 
fect: 

"If  you  will  obey  my  instructions 
strictly,  I  will  get  you  a  situation  on  a 
daily  newspaper.  You  may  select  the 
paper  yourself;  also  the  city  and  State." 

This  note  made  the  receiver  glad.  It 
made  his  heart  bound.  You  could  see  it 
in  his  answer.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had 
run  across  a  Simon-pure  benefactor  of  the 
old  school.  He  promised,  on  honor,  and 
gratefully,  that  whatever  the  instructions 
might  be,  he  would  not  swerve  from 
them  a  hair's  breadth.  And  he  named  the 
journal  of  his  choice.  He  chose  high,  too, 
but  that  was  a  good  sign.  Mr.  Clemens 
framed  the  instructions  and  sent  them,  al- 
though he  had  an  idea  that  they  might  dis- 


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SAMUEL   L.   CLEMENS,   "MARK   TWAIN:* 


appoint  the  applicant  a  little,  but  nothing 
was  said  about  that. 

Formula:  (i)  By  a  beneficent  law  of  our 
human  nature,  every  man  is  ready  and 
willing  to  employ  any  young  fellow  who 
is  honestly  anxious  to  work — for  noth- 
ing. 

(2)  A  man  once  wonted  to  an  employee 
and  satisfied  with  him,  is  loath  to  part  with 
him  and  give  himself  the  trouble  of  break- 
ing in  a  new  man. 

Let  us  practice  upon  these  foibles. 

Instructions;  (1)  You  are  to  apply  for 
work  at  the  office  of  your  choice. 

(2)  You  are  to  go  without  recommenda- 
tions. You  are  not  to  mention  my  name, 
nor  any  one's  but  your  own. 

(3)  You  are  to  say  that  you  want  no 
pay.  That  all  you  want  is  work  ;  any  kind 
of  work — you  make  no  stipulation ;  you  are 
ready  to  sweep  out,  point  the  pencils,  re- 
plenish the  inkstands,  hold  copy,  tidy  up, 
keep  the  place  in  order,  run  errands — any- 
thing and  everything;  you  are  not  particu- 
lar. You  are  so  tired  of  being  idle  that 
life  is  a  burden  to  you;  all  you  want  is 
work  and  plenty  of  it.  You  do  not  want 
a  pennyworth  of  remuneration.  N.  B. — 
You  will  get  the  place,  whether  the  man 
be  a  generous  one  or  a  selfish  one. 

(4)  You  must  not  sit  around  and  wait 
for  the  staff  to  find  work  for  you  to  do. 
You  must  keep  watch  and  find  it  for  your- 
self. When  you  can't  find  it,  invent  it. 
You  will  be  popular  there  pretty  soon, 
and  the  boys  will  do  you  a  good  turn 
whenever  they  can.  When  you  are  on 
the  street  and  see  a  thing  that  is  worth  re- 
porting, go  to  the  office  and  tell  about  it. 
By  and  by  you  will  be  allowed  to  put  such 
things  on  paper  yourself.  In  the  morning 
you  will  notice  that  they  have  been  edited, 
and  a  good  many  of  your  words  left  out — 
the  very  strongest  and  best  ones,  too. 
That  will  teach  you  to  modify  yourself. 
In  due  course  you  will  drift  by  natural  and 
sure  degrees  into  daily  and  regular  report- 
ing, and  will  find  yourself  on  the  city  edi- 
tor's staff,  without  any  one's  quite  know- 
ing how  or  when  you  got  there. 

(5)  By  this  time  you  have  become  nec- 
essary; possibly  even  indispensable.  Still 
you  are  never  to  mention  wages.  That 
is  a  matter  which  will  take  care  of 
itself;  you  must  wait.  By  and  by  there 
will  be  a  vacancy  on  a  neighboring  paper. 
You  will  know  all  the  reporters  in  town 
by  this  time,  and  one  or  another  of  them 
will  speak  of  you  and  you  will  be  offered 
the  place,  at  current  wages.  You  will  re- 
port this  good  fortune  to  your  city  editor, 


and  he  will  offer  you  the  same  wages,  and 
you  will  stay  where  you  are. 

(6)  Subsequently,  whenever  higher  pay 
is  offered  you  on  another  paper,  you  are 
not  to  take  the  place  if  your  original  em- 
ployer is  willing  to  keep  you  at  a  like  price. 

These  instructions  were  probably  not 
quite  what  the  young  fellow  was  expecting, 
but  he  kept  his  word,  and  obeyed  them  to 
the  letter.  He  applied  for  the  situation, 
and  got  it  without  trouble.  He  kept  his 
adviser  acquainted  with  the  steps  of  his 
progress.  He  began  in  the  general  utility 
line,  and  moved  along  up.  Within  a  month 
he  was  on  the  city  editor's  staff.  Within 
another  month  he  was  offered  a  place  on 
another  paper — with  wages.  His  own 
employers  "called  the  hand,"  and  he  re- 
mained where  he  was.  Within  the  next 
four  years,  his  salary  was  twice  raised  by 
the  same  process.  Then  he  was  given  the 
berth  of  chief  editor  on  a  great  daily  down 
South,  and  there  he  still  was  when  Mr. 
Clemens  last  heard  of  him. 

His  next  patient  was  another  stranger 
who  wanted  to  try  journalism  and  could 
not  get  an  opening.  He  was  very  much 
gratified  when  he  was  told  to  choose  his 
paper  and  he  would  be  given  a  situation  on 
it.  He  was  less  gratified  when  he  learned 
the  terms.  Still  he  carried  them  out,  got 
the  place  he  wanted,  and  has  been  a  re- 
porter ever  since. 

The  third  patient  followed  the  rules,  and 
at  the  end  of  a  month  was  made  a  sort  of 
assistant  editor  of  the  paper,  and  he  was 
also  put  under  wages  without  his  asking 
it:  not  high  wages,  for  it  was  not  a  rich 
or  prominent  paper,  but  as  good  as  he 
was  worth.  Six  months  later  he  'was 
offered  the  chief  editorship  of  a  new  daily 
in  another  town — a  paper  to  be  conducted 
by  a  chairman  and  directors — moneyed, 
arrogant,  small-fry  politicians.  Mr.  Clem- 
ens told  him  he  was  too  meek  a  creature 
for  the  place:  that  he  would  be  bundled 
out  of  it  without  apology  in  three  months, 
and  tried  to  persuade  him  to  stay  where  he 
was  and  where  his  employment  would  be 
permanent;  but  the  glory  of  a  chief  editor- 
ship was  too  dazzling,  the  salary  was  ex- 
travagant, and  he  went  to  his  doom.  He 
lasted  less  than  three  months,  and  was 
then  hustled  out  with  contumely.  That 
was  twenty  years  ago.  His  spirit  was 
wounded  to  the  death  probably,  for  he  has 
never  applied  for  a  place  since,  and  has 
never  had  one  of  any  kind. 

The  fourth  candidate  was  a  stranger. 
He  obeyed  the  rules,  got  the  place  he 
named,  became  a  good  reporter  and  very 


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AN  INCIDENT  OF 


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251 


popular,  was  presently  put  under  a  good 
salary  voluntarily,  and  remained  at  his 
post  a  year.  Then  he  disappeared,  greatly 
regretted.  His  creditors  will  lynch  him 
when  they  get  him.  Or  maybe  they  will 
elect  him  mayor;  there  are  enough  of 
them  to  make  it  unanimous. 

The  fifth  man  followed  the  rules,  and  went 
up  and  up  till  he  became  chief  editor,  then 
down  and  down  until  he  became  a  lawyer. 

No.  6  was  a  fine  success.  He  chose  his 
paper,  and  followed  the  rules  strictly.  In 
fifteen  years  he  has  climbed  from  a  general 
utility  youth  to  the  top,  and  is  now  chief 
leader  writer  on  one  of  the  most  widely 
known  and  successful  daily  journals  in  the 
world.  He  has  never  served  any  but  the 
one  employer.  The  same  man  pays  his 
large  salary  to-day  who  took  him,  an  un- 
known youth  at  nothing-and-find-himself, 
fifteen  years  ago. 


These  are  genuine  cases,  and  Mr.  Clem- 
ens stated  them  truthfully.  There  are 
others,  but  these  are  enough  to  show  that 
the  "system"  is  a  practical  one  and  is 
soundly  based. 

And  not  uncomplimentarily  based,  for 
I  think  it  is  fair  to  assume  that  its  real 
strength  does  not  lie  so  much  in  man's 
selfish  disposition  to  get  something  for 
nothing,  as  in  his  inability  to  rebuff  with 
an  ungenerous  "  no"  a  young  fellow  who 
is  asking  a  wholly  harmless  and  unexacting 
favor  of  him. 

Since  the  system  has  succeeded  so  well 
in  finding  openings  in  journalism,  it  may 
perhaps  be  trusted  to  open  a  way  into 
nearly  any  calling  in  the  list  of  indus- 
tries. So  it  is  offered  with  confidence  to 
young  men  and  women  who  want  situa- 
tions and  are  without  friends  and  influ- 
ence. 


AN    INCIDENT    OF    '49. 

By  James  H.  Holmes. 


|N  the  early  spring  of  1849  there 
collected  in  camps  on  the  Kan- 
sas River,  near  the  Missouri 
line,  men  from  many  Western 
States,  intending  to  take  the 
overland  route  to  California. 
I  joined  a  small  party  of  these, 
made  up  for  mutual  protection  while  cross- 
ing the  Plains.  One  member  of  our  com- 
pany was  a  young  man  who  had  left  his 
Illinois  home  with  a  new,  strong  wagon, 
well  loaded  with  everything  deemed  nec- 
essary to  last  him  a  year  in  the  mines,  and 
drawn  by  a  pair  of  good  horses.  Of  this 
team  one  had  been  a  colt  born  and  reared 
on  his  father's  farm,  and  all  its  life  the  pet 
of  the  family. 

For  many  weeks  our  journey  was  a  de- 
lightful pleasure  trip.  The  vast  uninhab- 
ited country  was  strange,  beautiful,  and 
majestic.  The  pure  air  and  exercise  were 
exhilarating.  Good  appetites  made  our 
camp  fare  delicious.  In  high  spirits  we 
made  our  westward  marches  day  by  day. 
But  when  we  had  advanced  several  hun- 
dred miles,  the  horses  of  the  Illinoisan 
began  to  show  marks  of  the  journey.  In 
order  to  relieve  them  he  cast  away,  from 
time  to  time,  some  of  the  heavier  parts  of 
their  load.  As  we  neared  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, he  found  the  wagon  itself  grown  too 


heavy  for  them;  he  therefore  exchanged 
the  staunch  vehicle  he  had  brought  from 
home  for  one  lighter  and  much  easier-run- 
ning that  some  preceding  traveler  had  left 
behind,  and  transferred  most  of  his  effects. 
Two  hundred  miles  further  on  he  ex- 
changed this  for  a  yet  smaller  conveyance 
that  he  found  abandoned.  But  before  he 
reached  Great  Salt  Lake  one  horse  died, 
and  he  was  compelled  to  leave  the  last 
wagon  and  all  his  goods,  except  what  the 
surviving  horse  was  able  to  carry  on  his 
back.  This  horse  now  was  lamentably 
worn,  barely  a  semblance  of  the  colt  that 
with  gay  antics  had  amused  the  owner  and 
his  loved  ones  in  the  old  days  at  home. 

We  came  to  the  Great  Salt  Lake  desert. 
Even  men  with  stout  hearts  and  vigorous 
bodies  had  perished  from  heat,  thirst,  and 
weariness,  in  crossing  this  withering 
waste;  and  terribly  fatal  had  it  been  to  the 
beasts  that  they  had  brought  with  them. 
The  route  was  strewn  with  bleaching  bones 
until  they  became  a  guide  to  the  traveler 
and.  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  lose  his 
way. 

At  one  point  we  came  upon  a  pile  of 
iron  as  high  as  a  house,  gathered  from 
the  wagons  of  travelers  preceding  us 
whose  horses  had  perished.  In  this  place 
of  torment,  from  which  each  passer-by  hur- 

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AN  INC1DEN7*  OF 


'49. 


ried  as  he  valued  existence,  half  in  pride 
of  his  achievement  and  half  in  sadness  at 
his  futile  battle  with  dread  nature,  man 
after  man  had  tarried  long  enough  to  con- 
tribute to  this  strange  monument. 

Having  first  taken  a  long,  preparatory 
rest,  we  started  one  mid-afternoon  to 
cross  as  much  of  the  desert  as  possible 
during  the  night.  We  could  carry  but  a 
scant  supply  of  water,  and  only  by  cover- 
ing all  the  distance  possible  while  the  sun 
was  down  could  we  hope  to  reach  the  water 
and  grass  beyond.  After  we  entered  on 
the  last  half  of  the  passage,  the  Illinoi- 
san's  second  horse  failed  until  he  could 
scarcely  walk.  The  young  man  took  the 
light  pack  from  the  horse's  back  and  car- 
ried it  himself,  and,  by  frequent  rests  and 
calls  of  encouragement,  tried,  with  infinite 
patience,  to  get  him  safely  over.  He  suc- 
ceeded in  coaxing  the  poor  animal  along  to 
within  about  six  miles  of  the  edge  of  the 
desert;  then  the  horse  stopped,  completely 
exhausted,    and    no    persuasion    or    force 


could  induce  him  to  take  another  step. 
He  stood  with  his  head  drooped  low,  feet 
wide  apart,  scarcely  a  spark  of  life,  and 
none  of  spirit,  left  in  him. 

The  owner  was  overcome  with  grief  at 
being  compelled  to  leave  his  favorite  thus 
to  die,  and  we  were  sad  in  sympathy  with 
him.  Himself  almost  exhausted,  and  with 
heavy  heart,  he  trudged  on  through  the 
deep  sand. 

The  approach  to  water  after  such  a  jour- 
ney is  a  scene  not  easily  described.  The 
realization  that  relief  is  near  gradually 
dawns  on  the  mind  of  man  and  beast,  and 
they  nerve  themselves  to  a  last  effort. 
Their  spirits  revive,  the  pace  increases, 
and  all  eyes  are  strained  for  a  glimpse  of 
the  spot  where  the  craved-for  water  is. 
We  toil  on  for  perhaps  another  hour. 
Then,  the  water  coming  into  view,  there 
begins  a  mad  rush.  The  horses  defy  all 
efforts  to  guide  them,  and  dash  into  the 
stream,  threatening  their  burdens  and 
themselves  with  destruction.    Panting  they 


*  He  sto-iJ  with  his  h'ad  drwfti  /.»?*■  " 


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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


253 


stand  there,  and  they  refuse  to  move  until 
they  are  satiated. 

The  morning  after  the  passage  found 
us  fully  refreshed  from  water,  food,  and 
sleep— all  but  the  Illinoisan;  he  could 
only  think  of  his  horse.  So  oppressive 
did  the  thought  become  to  him  finally, 
that  he  determined  to  go  back  and,  if  yet 
possible,  give  the  creature  one  last  drink. 
In  his  condition  it  appeared  most  unlikely 
that  he  could  walk  so  far  over  a  road 
where  at  each  step  one  sank  ankle-deep  in 
sand,  much  less  carry  a  burden  of  water. 
We  tried  earnestly  to  dissuade  him  from 
what   we  considered  a  foolhardy  act,  but 


nothing  we  could  say  changed  his  purpose. 
He  borrowed  a  six-quart  pail,  filled  it,  and 
resolutely  started.  Slowly  enough  he 
traveled,  and  now  and  then  he  spilled 
some  of  the  water;  but  finally  he  reached 
the  horse.  He  found  him  standing  mo- 
tionless, as  he  had  left  him;  he  had  not 
moved  a  step  through  the  whole  night. 
The  water  was  now  reduced  to  about  two 
quarts.  When  the  horse  felt  his  nose  wet 
by  it,  he  gave  a  faint  whinny,  then  opened 
his  eyes  and  drank.  In  a  short  time  he 
revived,  started,  and  followed  his  master. 
With  our  shouts  we  welcomed  them  into 
camp. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    MEN    AND    EVENTS    OF    THE 

CIVIL   WAR. 

By  Charles  A.  Dana, 
Assistant  Secretary  of  War  from  1863  to  1865. 

ILLUSTRATED  WITH  PORTRAITS  FROM  THE  WAR  DEPARTMENT  COLLECTION  OF 

CIVIL   WAR    PHOTOGRAPHS. 

III. 

LIFE    IN    THE    TRENCHES    AT    VICKSBURG    AND   THE    MEN    IN 

COMMAND. 


HE  day  after  writing  Mr.  Stan- 
ton this  letter*  on  the  gen- 
erals of  divisions  and  of 
brigades  in  the  army  which 
besieged  Vicksburg,  I  wrote 
him  a  letter  on  the  staff  offi- 
cers   of    the    various    corps. 

Like  its  predecessor,  this  letter  has  never 

before  been  in  print. 

Cairo,  Illinois,  July  13,  1863. 
Dear  Sir: — In  my  letter  of  yesterday  I  accidentally 
omitted  to  notice  General  C.  C.  Washburn  among  the 
generals  of  division  in  Grant's  army.  It  is  true  he 
has  never  commanded  a  division  f  nor,  so  far  as  I  am 
aware,  a  brigade  either,  having  generally  been  em- 
ployed in  command  of  expeditions,  detachments,  and 

•  The  letter  to  which  Mr.  Dana  here  refers  closed  the 
installment  of  the  reminiscences  which  appeared  in  the 
December  number  of  this  magazine.— Editor. 

t  Mr.  Dana  is  in  error  here.  For  several  months  prior  to 
the  siege  of  Vicksburg  Washburn  had  been  in  command  of 
the  cavalry  division  of  the  military  district  of  Eastern  Ar- 
kansas, some  £,300  effectives.  He  was  a  brother  of  Hon. 
Elihu  B.  Washburne,  General  Grant's  great  friend,  and  his 
promotion  to  a  corps  was  likely,  for  that  reason,  to  cause 
criticism.  That  is  why  Grant  insisted  that  Washburn  should 
earn  his  spurs.  One  of  the  brothers  dropped  the  final  "  e  " 
to  the  name,  while  the  other  retained  it.— Leslie  J.  Perry. 


scattered  bodies  of  cavalry.  He  is  now  in  command 
of  two  of  the  divisions  detached  from  the  Sixteenth 
Army  Corps  :  namely,  that  of  Kimball  and  that  of  W. 
S.  Smith  ;  and,  as  I  happen  to  know,  is  anxious  to 
be  put  in  command  of  an  army  corps,  for  which  pur- 
pose it  has  been  suggested  that  a  new  corps  might  be 
created  out  of  these  two  divisions,  with  the  addition 
of  that  of  Lauman,  also  detached  from  the  Sixteenth, 
or  Herron.  But  I  understand  from  General  Grant 
that  he  is  not  favorable  to  any  such  arrangement. 
Washburn  being  one  of  the  very  youngest  in  rank  of 
his  major-generals,  he  intends  to  put  him  in  com- 
mand of  a  single  division  as  soon  as  possible,  in 
order  that  he  may  prove  his  fitness  for  higher  com- 
mands by  actual  service  and  give  no  occasion  for 
older  soldiers  to  complain  that  he  is  promoted  with- 
out regard  to  his  merits. 

I  know  Washburn  very  well,  both  as  a  politician 
and  a  military  man,  and  I  say  frankly  that  he  has 
better  qualities  for  the  latter  than  for  the  former 
function.  He  is  brave,  steady,  respectable  ;  receives 
suggestions,  and  weighs  them  carefully  ;  is  not  above 
being  advised,  but  acts  with  independence  neverthe- 
less. His  judgment  is  good,  and  his  vigilance  suffi- 
cient. I  have  not  seen  him  in  battle,  however,  and 
cannot  say  how  far  he  holds  his  mind  there.  I  don't 
find  in  him,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  effort  to  learn  the 
military  art  which  ever)'  commander  ought  to  ex- 
hibit, no  matter  whether  he  has  received  a  military 

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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF  THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


education  or  not.  Washburn's  whole  soul  is  not  put 
into  the  business  of  arms,  and  for  me  that  is  an  un- 
pardonable defect.  But  he  is  a  good  man,  and 
above  the  average  of  our  generals  ;  at  least  of  those 
in  Grant's  command. 

I  now  come  to  the  staff  organization  and  staff  offi- 
cers of  this  army,  beginning,  of  course,  with  those 
connected  with  the  head  of  the  department.  Grant's 
staff  is  a  curious  mixture  of  good,  bad,  and  indiffer- 
ent. As  he  is  neither  an  organizer  nor  a  disciplina- 
rian himself,  his  staff  is  naturally  a  mosaic  of  acci- 
dental elements  and  family  friends.  It  contains  four 
working  men,  two  who  are  able  to  accomplish  their 
duties  without  much  work,  and  several  who  either 
don't  think  of  work,  or  who  accomplish  nothing,  no 
matter  what  they  undertake. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Rawlins,  Grant's  assistant  ad- 
jutant general,  is  a  very  industrious,  conscientious 
man,  who  never  loses  a  moment  and  never  gives 
himself  any  indulgence  except  swearing  and  scold- 
ing. He  is  a  lawyer  by  profession,  a  townsman  of 
Grant's,  and  has  a  great  influence  over  him,  espe- 
cially because  he  watches  him  day  and  night,  and 
whenever  he  commits  the  folly  of  tasting  liquor, 
hastens  to  remind  him  that  at  the  beginning  of  the  war 
he  gave  him  (Rawlins)  his  word  of  honor  not  to  touch 
a  drop  as  long  as  it  lasted.  Grant  thinks  Rawlins  a 
first-rate  adjutant,  but  I  think  this  is  a  mistake.  He 
is  too  slow,  and  can't  write  the  English  language  cor- 
rectly without  a  great  deal  of  careful  consideration. 
Indeed,  illiterateness  is  a  general  characteristic  of 
Grant's  staff,  and,  in  fact,  of  Grant's  generals  and 
regimental  officers  of  all  ranks. 

Major  Bowers,  judge-advocate  of  Grant's  staff,  is 
an  excellent  man,  and  always  finds  work  to  do. 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Wilson,  inspector-general,  is  a 
person  of  similar  disposition.  He  is  a  captain  of 
engineers  in  the  regular  army,  and  has  rendered 
valuable  services  in  that  capacity.  The  fortifications 
of  Haynes's  Bluff  were  designed  by  him,  and  executed 
under  his  direction.  His  leading  idea  is  the  idea  of 
duty,  and  he  applies  it  vigorously,  and  often  im- 
patiently, to  others.  In  consequence  he  is  unpopu- 
lar among  all  who  like  to  live  with  little  work.  But 
he  has  remarkable  talents  and  uncommon  executive 
power,  and  will  be  heard  from  hereafter. 

The  quartermaster's  department  is  under  charge 
of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Bingham,  who  is  one  of  those 
I  spoke  of  as  accomplishing  much  with  little  work. 
He  is  an  invalid  almost,  and  I  have  never  seen  him 
when  he  appeared  to  be  perfectly  well ;  but  he  is  a 
man  of  first-rate  abilities  and  solid  character,  and, 
barring  physical  weakness,  up  to  even  greater  respon- 
sibilities than  those  he  now  bears. 

The  chief  commissary,  Lieutenant-Colonel  Mac- 
feely,  is  a  jolly,  agreeable  fellow,  who  never  seems 
to  be  at  work  ;  but  I  have  heard  no  complaint  of  de- 
ficiencies in  his  department.  On  the  contrary,  it 
seems  to  be  one  of  the  most  efficacious  parts  of  this 
great  machine. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Kent,  provost -marshal  gen- 
eral, is  a  very  industrious  and  sensible  man,  a 
great  improvement  on  his  predecessor,  Colonel 
Hillyer,  who  was  a  family  and  personal  friend  of 
Grant's. 

There  are  two  aides-de-camp  with  the  rank  of  col- 
onel ;   namely,  Colonel and  Colonel  , 

is  a  worth- 
is  de- 


both  personal  friends  of  Grant's.     

less,  whisky-drinking,  useless  fellow, 
cent  and  gentlemanly,  but  neither  of  them  is  worth 
his  salt,  so  far  as  service  to  the  government  goes. 
Indeed,  in  all  my  observation,  I  have  never  discov- 
ered the  use  of  Grant's  aides-de-camp  at  all.  On 
the  battlefield  he  sometimes  sends  orders  by  them, 
but  everywhere  else  they  are  idle  loafers.     I  sup- 


pose the  army  would  be  better  off  if  they  were  all 
suppressed,  especially  the  colonels. 

Grant  has  three  aides  with  the  rank  of  captain. 
Captain  Ross  is  a  relative  of  Mrs.  Grant.*  He  has 
been  a  stage  driver,  and  violates  English  grammar 
at  every  phrase.  He  is  of  some  use,  for  he  attends 
to  the  mails.  Captain  Audenried  is  an  elegant  young 
officer  of  the  regular  cavalry.  He  rides  after  the 
general  when  he  rides  out.  The  rest  of  the  time  he 
does  nothing  at  all.  Captain  Badeau,  wounded  at 
Port  Hudson  since  he  was  attached  to  Grant's  staff, 
has  not  yet  reported.  I  must  not  omit  the  general 
medical  staff  of  this  army.  It  is  in  bad  order.  Its 
head,  Dr.  Mills,  is  impracticable,  earnest,  quarrel- 
some. He  was  relieved  several  weeks  since,  but 
Grant  likes  him,  and  kept  him  on  till  the  fall  of 
Vicksburg.  In  this  he  was  right,  no  doubt,  for  a 
change  during  the  siege  would  have  been  trouble- 
some. The  change,  I  presume,  will  now  be  made. 
It  must  be  for  the  better. 

The  office  of  chief  of  artillery  on  the  general  staff  I 
had  forgotten,  as  well  as  that  of  chief  engineer.  The 
former  is  occupied  by  Lieutenant-Colonel  Duff  of 
the  Second  Illinois  Artillery.  He  is  unequal  to  the 
position,  not  only  because  he  is  disqualified  by  sick- 
ness, but  because  he  does  not  sufficiently  understand 
the  management  of  artillery.  The  siege  suffered 
greatly  from  his  incompetence.  General  Grant 
knows,  of  course,  that  he  is  not  the  right  person  ;  but 
it  is  one  of  his  weaknesses  that  he  is  unwilling  to 
hurt  the  feelings  of  a  friend,  and  so  he  keeps  him  on. 

The  chief  engineer,  Captain  Comstock,  is  an  offi- 
cer of  great  merit.  He  has,  too,  what  his  predeces- 
sor, Captain  Prime,  lacked,  a  talent  for  organization. 
His  accession  to  the  army  will  be  the  source  of  much 
improvement. 

If  General  Grant  had  about  him  a  staff  of  thoroughly 
competent  men,  disciplinarians  and  workers,  the 
efficacy  and  fighting  quality  of  his  army  would  soon 
be  much  increased.  As  it  is,  things  go  too  much  by 
hazard  and  by  spasms  ;  or,  when  the  pinch  comes. 
Grant  forces  through,  by  his  own  energy  and  main 
strength,  what  proper  organization  and  proper  staff 
officers  would  have  done  already. 

The  staff  of  the  Thirteenth  Corps  was  formed  by 
General  McClernand.  The  acting  adjutant-gen- 
eral, Lieutenant-Colonel  Scates,  is  a  man  about 
fifty-five  or  sixty  years  old  ;  he  was  a  judge  in  Illi- 
nois, and  left  an  honored  and  influential  social  posi- 
tion to  serve  in  the  army.  General  Ord  speaks  in 
high  terms  of  him  as  an  officer.  The  chief  of  artil- 
lery, Colonel ,  is  an  ass.  The  chief  quarter- 
master, Lieutenant-Colonel  Dunlap,  General  Mc- 
Clernand's  father-in-law,  lately  resigned  his 
commission.  He  was  incompetent,  and  is  said  to 
have  been  dishonest.  Our  commission  here  at 
Cairo  last  summer  reported  facts  that  proved  him 
to  have  been  the  former  ;  of  the  charges  of  stealing 
I  know  nothing.  His  successor  has  not  yet  been 
appointed.  The  chief  commissary,  Lieutenant-Colo- 
nel Taggart,  is  a  fussy  fellow,  who,  with  much 
show,  accomplishes  but  little.  General  McClernand's 
aides  went  away  with  him  or  are  absent  on  leave. 
Not  a  man  of  them  is  worth  having.  The  engineer 
on  his  staff,  Lieutenant  Hains,  is  an  industrious  and 
useful  officer.  The  medical  director,  Dr.  Hammond, 
had  just  been  appointed. 

In  the  Fifteenth  Corps  staff  all  have  to  be  working 
men,  for  Sherman  tolerates  no  idlers  and  finds  some- 
thing for  everybody  to  do.  If  an  officer  proves  unfit 
for  his  position,  he  shifts  him  to  some  other  place. 
Thus  his  adjutant,  Lieutenant-Colonel  Hammond,  a 
restless  Kentuckian,   kept  everything   in   a  row  as 

*  Mr.  Dana  was  mistaken  here :  Captain  Ross  was  a  rela- 
tive of  General  Grant. — Editor. 


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CHARLES  A.  DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


*5S 


gsnbral  Sherman's  corps  crossing  the  big  black  river  on  the  night  of  may  17-18,  1863. 

From  a  drawing  made  by  James  E.  Taylor  at  the  order  and  under  the  supervision  of  General  Sherman.  (The  painting  now  hangs  In  the  ante* 
room  of  the  headquarters  of  the  army  in  the  War  Department.)  In  the  rapid  advance  in  pursuit  of  Pemberton  part  of  Sherman's  corps  marched  from 
Jackson  to  Bridgeport,  00  Big  Black  River,  thirty-five  miles  by  road,  in  a  little  over  twenty-four  hours.  During  the  afternoon  of  May  17th  the  enemy 
was  shelled  out  of  his  field-works  on  the  opposite  bank,  a  pontoon  bridge  thrown  across,  and  by  daybreak  of  the  18th  of  May  the  two  divisions  were 
over  and  pushing  out  towards  Vicksburg. 


long  as  he  remained  in  that  office.  Sherman  has 
accordingly  made  him  inspector-general,  and  during 
the  last  two  months  has  kept  him  constantly  em- 
ployed on  scouting  parties.  In  his  place  as  adjutant 
is  Captain  Sawyer,  a  quiet,  industrious,  efficient  per- 
son. The  chief  of  artillery.  Major  Taylor,  directed 
by  Sherman's  omnipresent  eye  and  quick  judgment, 
is  an  officer  of  great  value,  though  under  another 
general  he  might  not  be  worth  so  much.  The  chief 
engineer,  Captain  Pitzman,  wounded  about  July 
15th,  is  a  man  of  merit,  and  his  departure  was  a 
great  loss  to  the  regular  ranks.  General  Sherman 
has  three  aides-de-camp,  Captain  McCoy,  Captain 
Dayton,  and  Lieutenant  Hill ;  and,  as  I  have  said, 
neither  of  them  holds  a  sinecure  office.  His  medical 
director,  Dr.  McMillan,  is  a  good  physician,  I  be- 
lieve ;  he  has  been  in  a  constant  contention  with  Dr. 
Mills.  The  quartermaster,  Lieutenant  Colonel  J. 
C.  Smith,  is  a  most  efficient  officer ;  he  has  been 
doing  duty  as  commissary  also. 

On  the  whole,  General  Sherman  has  a  very  small 
and  very  efficient  staff ;  but  the  efficiency  comes 
mainly  from  him.  Whpt  a  splendid  soldier  he 
is ! 

The  staff  of  the  Seventeenth  Army  Corps  is  the 
most  complete,  the  most  numerous,  and  in  some  re- 
spects the  most  serviceable  in  this  army. 

The  adjutant-general,  Lieutenant-Colonel  Clark, 
is  a  person  of  uncommon  quickness,  is  always  at 
work,  and  keeps  everything  in  his  department  in 
first-rate  order.  The  inspector-general,  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Strong,  does  his  duties  with  promptness  and 
thoroughness  ;  his  reports  are  models.     The  chief  of 


artillery,  Lieutenant-Colonel  Powell,  thoroughly  un- 
derstands his  business,  and  attends  to  it  diligently. 
The  provost-marshal  general,  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Wilson,  is  a  judicious  and  industrious  man.  Both 
the  quartermaster  and  commissary  are  new  men, 
captains,  and  I  do  not  know  them  ;  but  McPherson 
speaks  highly  of  them.  The  medical  director,  Dr. 
Boucher,  has  the  reputation  of  keeping  his  hospitals 
in  better  order  and  making  his  reports  more  promptly 
and  satisfactorily  than  any  other  medical  officer  in 
this  army.  General  McPherson  has  four  aides-de- 
camp :  Captain  Steele,  Captain  Gile,  Lieutenant 
Knox,  and  Lieutenant  Vernay.  The  last  of  these  is 
the  best,  and  Captain  Steele  is  next  to  him.  The 
engineer  officer.  Captain  Hickenlooper,  is  a  laborious 
man,  quick,  watchful,  but  not  of  great  capacity. 
The  picket  officer,  Major  Willard,  whom  I  acci- 
dentally name  last,  is  a  person  of  unusual  merit. 

In  the  staffs  of  the  division  and  brigadier-gen- 
erals I  do  not  now  recall  any  officer  of  extraordinary 
capacity.  There  may  be  such,  but  I  have  not  made 
their  acquaintance-  On  the  other  hand,  I  have 
made  the  acquaintance  of  some  who  seemed  quite 
unfit  for  their  places.  I  must  not  omit,  however,  to 
speak  here  of  Captain  Tresilian,  engineer  on  the 
staff  of  Major-General  Logan.  His  general  services 
during  the  siege  were  not  conspicuous,  but  he  de- 
serves great  credit  for  constructing  the  wooden  mor- 
tars which  General  McPherson  used  near  its  close 
with  most  remarkable  effect.  Both  the  idea  and  the 
work  were  Tresilian's. 

Very  possibly  you  may  not  wish  to  go  through 
this  mass  of  details  respecting  so  many  officers  of  in- 


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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


ferior  grades,  upon  whose  claims  you  may  never  be 
called  to  pass  judgment.  But  if  you  care  to  read 
them  here  they  are. 

I  remain,  dear  sir, 

Yours,  very  faithfully, 

C.  A.  Dana. 
Mr.  Stanton. 

LIFE    BEHIND    VICKSBURG. 

We  had  not  been  many  days  in  the  rear 
of  Vicksburg  before  we  settled  into  regu- 
lar habits.  The  men  were  detailed  in  re- 
liefs for  work  in  the  trenches,  and  being 
relieved  at  fixed  hours,  everybody  seemed 
to  lead  a  systematic  life. 

My  chief  duty  throughout  the  siege  was 
a  daily  round  through  the  trenches,  gen- 
erally with  the  corps  commander  or  some 
one  of  his  staff.  As  the  lines  of  invest- 
ment were  six  or  seven  miles  long,  it  occu- 
pied the  greater  part  of  my  day:  some- 
times I  made  a  portion  of  my  tour  of  in- 
spection in  the  night.  One  night  in  riding 
through  the  trenches  I  must  have  passed 
20,000  men  asleep  on  their  arms.  I  still 
can  see  the  grotesque  positions  into  which 
they  had  curled  themselves.  The  trenches 
were  so  protected  that  there  was  no  dan- 
ger in  riding  through  them.  It  was  not 
so  safe  to  venture  on  the  hills  overlooking 
Vicksburg.  I  went  on  foot  and  alone  one 
day  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  and  was  looking 
at  the  town,  when  I  suddenly  heard  some- 
thing go  whizz,  whizz,  by  my  ear.  ll  What 
in  the  world  is  that?"  I  asked  myself. 
The  place  was  so  desolate  that  it  was  an 
instant  before  I  could  believe  that  these 
were  bullets  intended  for  me.  When  I  came 
to  understand  it  I  immediately  started  to 
lie  down.  Then  came  the  question,  Which 
is  the  best  way  to  lie  down  ?  If  I  lay  at 
right  angles  to  the  enemy's  line  the  bullets 
from  the  right  and  left  might  strike  me; 
if  I  lay  parallel  to  it,  then  those  directly 
from  the  front  might  hit  me.  So  I  con- 
cluded «it  made  no  difference  which  way  I 
lay.  After  I  had  remained  quiet  for  a  time 
the  bullets  ceased,  and  I  left  the  hill-top.  I 
was  more  cautious  in  the  future  in  ventur- 
ing beyond  cover. 

Through  the  entire  siege  I  lived  in  Gen- 
eral Grant's  headquarters,  which  were  on 
a  high  bluff  point  northeast  of  Sherman's 
extreme  left.  I  had  a  tent  to  myself,  and 
on  the  whole  was  very  comfortable.  We 
never  lacked  an  abundance  of  provisions. 
There  was  good  water,  enough  even  for 
the  bath,  and  we  suffered  very  little  from 
excessive  heat.  The  only  serious  annoy- 
ance was  the  cannonade  from  our  whole 
line,  which  from  the  first  of  June  went  on 
steadily  by  night  as  well  as  by  day.     The 


following  bit  from  a  letter  I  wrote  on  June 
2d  to  my  little  daughter  tells  something  of 
my  situation: 

It  is  real  summer  weather  here,  and  after  coming 
in  at  noon  to-day  from  my  usual  ride  through  the 
trenches,  I  was  very  glad  to  get  a  cold  bath  in  my 
tent  before  dinner.  I  like  living  in  tents  very  well, 
especially  if  you  ride  on  horseback  all  day.  Every 
night  I  sleep  with  one  side  of  the  tent  wide  open 
and  the  walls  put  up  all  around  to  get  plenty  of  air. 
Sometimes  I  wake  up  in  the  night  and  think  it  is 
raining,  the  wind  roars  so  in  the  tops  of  the  great  oak 
forest  on  the  hillside  where  we  are  encamped  ;  and  I 
think  it  is  thundering  till  I  look  out  and  see  the 
golden  moonlight  in  all  its  glory,  and  .listen  again 
and  know  that  it  is  only  the  thunder  of  General 
Sherman's  great  guns,  that  neither  rest  nor  let  others 
rest  by  night  or  by  day. 

Living  at  headquarters  as  I  did,  I  soon  be- 
came intimate  with  Grant,  not  only  knowing 
every  one  of  his  operations  while  it  was  still 
but  an  idea,  but  studying  its  execution  on 
the  spot.  Grant  was  an  uncommon  fellow 
— the  most  modest,  the  most  disinterested, 
and  the  most  honest  man  I  ever  knew, 
with  a  temper  that  nothing  could  disturb 
and  a  judgment  that  was  judicial  in  its 
comprehensiveness  and  wisdom.  Not  a 
great  man,  except  morally;  not  an  original 
or  brilliant  man,  but  sincere,  thoughtful, 
deep,  and  gifted  with  courage  that  never 
faltered;  when  the  time  came  to  risk  all, 
he  went  in  like  a  simple-hearted,  unaf- 
fected, unpretending  hero,  whom  no  ill 
omens  could  deject  and  no  triumph  unduly 
exalt.  A  social,  friendly  man,  too,  fond 
of  a  pleasant  joke  and  also  ready  with 
one;  but,  above  all,  fond  of  a  long  chat 
of  an  evening  and  ready  to  sit  up  with 
you  all  night  talking  in  the  cool  breeze  in 
front  of  his  tent.  Not  a  man  of  senti- 
mentality, not  demonstrative  in  friend- 
ship, but  always  holding  to  his  friends, 
and  just  even  to  the  enemies  he  hated. 

After  Grant,  I  spent  more  time  at  Vicks- 
burg with  his  assistant  adjutant-general, 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Rawlins,  and  with 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Wilson,  than  with  any- 
body else.  Rawlins  was  one  of  the  most 
valuable  men  in  the  army,  in  my  judgment. 
He  had  but  a  limited  education,  which  he 
had  picked  up  at  the  neighborhood  school 
and  in  Galena,  Illinois,  near  which  place  he 
was  born  and  where  he  had  worked  himself 
into  the  law;  but  he  had  a  very  able  mind, 
clear,  strong,  and  not  subject  to  hysterics. 
He  bossed  everything  at  Grant's  head- 
quarters. Rawlins  possessed  very  little 
respect  for  persons,  and  his  style  of  con- 
versation was  rough  ;  I  have  heard  him 
curse  at  Grant  when,  according  to  his 
judgment,  the  general    was   doing   some- 


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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


257 


I 


& 


ADMIRAL    DAVID    DIXON    I>OKTER.       LOKN    IN    1813  ;    DIED    IN    1891. 

Chester,  Pennsylvania,  is  the  birthplace  of  Admiral  Porter.  He  entered  the  United  States  Navy  as  midshipman  in  1839.  serving  in  the  Mediter- 
a  and  Brazilian  waters  and  throughout  the  Mexican  War.  In  the  Civil  War  he  was  commander  of  a  fleet  first  in  the  Western  waters  and  after- 
wards in  the  North  Atlantic.  His  great  exploits  were  aiding  Farragut  to  capture  New  Orleans,  running  the  batteries  at  Viclcsburg.  and  the  capture  of 
Poet  Fisher  in  January,  1865.  He  received  four  votes  of  thanks  from  Congress  during  the  War.  In  1866  he  was  appointed  vice-admiral,  and  in  1870 
Admiral  of  the  Navy.    He  wrote  several  volumes. 


thing  that  he  thought  he  had  better  not 
do.  But  he  was  entirely  devoted  to  his 
duty,  with  the  clearest  judgment,  and 
perfectly  fearless.  Without  him  Grant 
would  not  have  been  the  same  man. 
Rawlins  was  essentially  a  good  man, 
though  he  was  one  of  the  most  profane 
men  I  ever  knew;  there  was  no  guile  in 
him — he  was  as  upright  and  as  genuine  a 
character  as  I  ever  came  across. 


Wilson  I  had  first  met  at  Milliken's 
Bend,  where  he  was  serving  as  chief  topo- 
graphical engineer  and  assistant  inspector- 
general  of  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee. 
He  was  a  brilliant  man  intellectually, 
highly  educated,  and  thoroughly  com- 
panionable. We  became  warm  friends  at 
once,  and  were  together  a  great  deal 
throughout  the  war.  Rarely  did  Wilson 
go  out  on  a  specially  interesting  tour 
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258 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


of  inspection  that  he  did  not  invite  me 
to  accompany  him,  and  I  never  failed, 
if  I  were  at  liberty,  to  accept  his  invita- 
tions. Much  of  the  exact  information 
about  the  condition  of  the  works  which  I 
was  able  to  send  to  Mr.  Stanton,  Wilson 
put  in  my  way. 

xjrant's  effort  to  secure   reenforce- 

MENTS. 

We  were  no  sooner  in  position  behind 
Vicksburg  than  Grant  saw  that  he  must 
have  reinforcements.  Joe  Johnston  was 
hovering  near,  working  with  energy  to 
collect  forces  sufficient  to  warrant  an  at- 
tempt to  relieve  Vicksburg.  He  eventu- 
ally gathered  an  army  behind  Grant  of 
about  25,000  men.  This  made  it  necessary 
to  keep  more  troops  in  our  rear,  facing 
the  other  way,  than  could  well  be  spared 
from  siege  operations,  and  therefore  Grant 
ordered  down  from  Tennessee,  and  else- 
where in  his  own  department,  all  available 
forces.  He  also  sent  a  personal  request 
to  General  Banks,  then  before  Port  Hud- 
son, for  reinforcements.  Banks  was 
Grant's  senior,  and  commanded  an  inde- 
pendent department;  of  him  Grant  could 
only  make  a  request. 

As  no  reply  came  from  Banks,  I  started 
myself  on  the  30th  for  Port  Hudson,  at 
Grant's  desire,  to  urge  that  the  reinforce- 
ments be  furnished. 

The  route  used  for  getting  out  from  the 
rear  of  Vicksburg  at  that  time  was  through 
the  Chickasaw  Bayou  into  the  Yazoo  and 
thence  into  the  Mississippi.  From  the 
mouth  of  the  Yazoo  I  crossed  the  Missis- 
sippi to  Young's  Point,  and  from  there 
went  overland  across  the  peninsula  to  get 
a  gunboat  at  a  point  south  of  Vicksburg. 
As  we  were  going  down  the  river  we  met 
a  steamer  just  above  Grand  Gulf  bearing 
one  of  the  previous  messengers  whom 
Grant  had  sent  to  Banks.  He  was  bring- 
ing word  that  Banks  could  send  no  forces; 
on  the  other  hand,  he  asked  reinforce- 
ments from  Grant  to  aid  in  his  siege  of 
Port  Hudson,  which  he  had  closely  in- 
vested. This  news,  of  course,  made  my 
trip  unnecessary,  and  I  returned  at  once  to 
headquarters,  having  been  gone  not  over 
twenty-four  hours. 

As  soon  as  this  news  came  from  Banks 
I  sent  an  urgent  appeal  to  Mr.  Stanton  to 
hurry  forward  reinforcements  sufficient  to 
make  success  beyond  all  peradventure. 
The  government  was  not  slow  to  appreciate 
Grant's  needs.  Early  in  June  I  received 
the  following  despatch  from  Mr.  Stanton : 


War  Department,  June  5,  1863. 

C.  A.  Dana,  Esq.,  Grant's  Headquarters,  near 
Vicksburg  : 
Your  telegrams  up  to  the  30th  have  been  received. 
Everything  in  the  power  of  this  government  will  be- 
put  forth  to  aid  General  Graril.  The  emergency  is 
not  underrated  here.  Your  telegrams  are  a  great 
obligation,  and  are  looked  for  with  deep  interest.  I 
cannot  thank  you  as  much  as  I  feel  for  the  service 
you  are  now  rendering.  You  have  been  appointed 
an  assistant  adjutant-general,  with  rank  of  major, 
with  liberty  to  report  to  General  Grant  if  he  needs, 
you.  The  appointment  may  be  a  protection  to  you. 
I  shall  expect  daily  reports  if  possible. 

Edwin  M.  Stanton, 

Secretary  0/  War, 

My  appointment  as  assistant  adjutant- 
general  was  Stanton's  own  idea.  He  was 
by  nature  a  very  anxious  man.  When  he 
realized  from  my  telegrams  that  I  was 
going  every  day  on  expeditions  into 
dangerous  territory  he  was  at  once 
alarmed  lest  I  be  caught  by  the  Confed- 
erates; for  as  I  was  a  private  citizen,  it 
would  have  been  difficult  to  exchange  me. 
If  I  were  in  the  regular  volunteer  service 
as  an  assistant  adjutant-general,  however, 
there  would  be  no  trouble  about  an  ex- 
change; hence  my  appointment. 

DIVERSIONS   OF    LIFE    BEHIND    VICKSBURG. 

These  trips  which  caused  Mr.  Stanton 
so  much  anxiety  were  the  chief  variations 
from  my  business  of  watching  the  siege. 
Among  the  most  interesting  I  made  were 
those  to  inspect  the  operations  against 
the  enemy  who  was  trying  to  shut  us  in 
from  the  rear  beyond  the  Big  Black. 
His  heaviest  force  was  to  the  northeast. 
On  June  6th  the  reports  from  Satartia,  our 
advance  up  the  Yazoo,  were  so  unsatis- 
factory that  Grant  decided  to  examine  the 
situation  there  himself.  That  morning  he 
said  to  me  at  breakfast: 

"Mr.  Dana,  I  am  going  to  Satartia  to- 
day; would  you  like  to  go  along  ?  " 

I  said  I  would,  and  we  were  soon  on 
horseback,  riding  with  a  cavalry  guard  to- 
Haynes's  Bluff,  where  we  took  a  small 
steamer  reserved  for  Grant's  use  and  car- 
rying his  flag.  Grant  was  ill,  and  went  ta 
bed  soon  after  he  started.  We  had  gone 
up  the  river  to  within  two  miles  of  Satartia, 
when  we  met  two  gunboats  coming  down. 
Seeing  the  General's  flag,  the  officers  in 
charge  of  the  gunboats  came  aboard  our 
steamer  and  asked  where  the  General  was 
going.     I  told  them  to  Satartia. 

II  Why,"  said  they,  "  it  will  not  be  safe. 
Kimball    [our    advance    was    under    the 
charge  of  Brigadier-General  Nathan  Kim- 
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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


259 


ball,  Third  Division,  Sixteenth  Army 
Corps]  has  retreated  from  there,  and  is 
sending  all  his  supplies  to  Haynes's  Bluff. 
The  enemy  is  probably  in  the  town  now." 
I  told  them  Grant  was  sick  and  asleep 
and  that  I  did  not  want  to  waken  him. 
They  insisted  that  it  was  unsafe  to  go  on 
and  that  I  would  better  call  the  General, 


GENERAL    PETER   J.    OSTERHAIS.       BORN    IS    1820. 

A  German  by  birth,  Osterhaus  was  educated  for  the  Prussian  army,  in  which  he  became  an  officer.  He  emi- 
grated to  the  United  States,  and  when  the  war  broke  out  entered  the  service  as  major  of  Missouri  volunteers,  serv- 
ing with  Fremont ;  under  Grant  in  the  Vicksburg  siege  and  the  operations  at  Chattanooga ;  and  under  Sherman 
In  the  Atlanta  campaign,  the  march  through  Georgia,  and  the  campaign  in  the  Carolinas.  Before  the  war  was  over 
be  had  been  promoted  to  the  rank  of  major-general.  On  being  mustered  out  of  the  service  in  1866  he  was  made 
United  States  consul  at  Lyons.  France. 


He  did  not  complain,  but  as  he  was  short 
of  officers  at  that  point,  he  asked  me  to  go 
with  a  party  of  cavalry  towards  Mechanics- 
burg  to  find  if  it  was  true,  as  reported,  that 
Joe  Johnston  was  advancing  from  Canton 
to  the  Big  Black.  We  had  a  long  hard 
ride,  not  getting  back  to  Vicksburg  until 
the  morning^of  the  8th.     The  country  was 

like  all  the  rest 
around  Vicks- 
burg— broken, 
wooded,  unpopu- 
lous,  with  bad 
roads  and  few 
streams.  It  still 
had  many  cat- 
tle, but  the  corn 
was  pretty  thor- 
oughly cleared 
out.  We  found 
that  Johnston 
had  not  moved 
his  main  force  as 
rumored,  and 
that  he  could  not 
move  it  without 
bringing  all  his 
supplies  with 
him. 

Soon  after  this 
Sherman  was  or- 
dered  to  the 
northeast  to 
watch  Johnston. 
He  went  into 
camp  on  Bear 
Creek,  about 
fifteen  miles  from 
Vicksburg.  I 
went  up  there 
several  times  to 
visit  him,  and  al- 
ways came  away 
enthusiastic  over 
his  qualities  as 
a  soldier.  His 
amazing  activity 
and     vigilance 


and  finally  I  did  so,  but  he  was  too  sick  to 
decide. 

"  I  will  leave  it  with  you,  Mr.  Dana,"  he 
said.  I  immediately  said  we  would  go 
back  to  Haynes's  Bluff,  which  we  did. 

The  next  morning  Grant  came  out  to 
breakfast  fresh  as  a  rose,  clean  shirt  and 
all,  quite  himself.  "Well,  Mr.  Dana,"  he 
said,  "I  suppose  we  are  at  Satartia  now." 

"  No,  General,"  I  said,  "  we  are  at 
Haynes's  Bluff."  And  I  told  him  what  had 
happened. 


pervaded  his  en- 
tire force.  The  country  where  he  had 
encamped  was  exceedingly  favorable  for 
defense;  and  he  had  occupied  the  com- 
manding points,  opened  rifle-pits  wherever 
they  would  add  to  his  advantage,  ob- 
structed the  cross  roads  and  most  of  the 
direct  roads  also,  and  ascertained  every 
point  where  the  Big  Black  could  be  forded 
between  the  line  of  Benton  on  the  north 
and  the  line  of  railroads  on  the  south. 
By  his  rapid  movements,  also,  and  by  thus 
\vide#ly  deploying  on   all    the    ridges    and 


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26o  MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


open   headlands,    Sherman   produced    the  the  rest  of  the  siege,  in  order  to  prevent 

impression  that  his  forces  were  ten  times  any  possible  attack  by  Joe  Johnston,  the 

as  numerous  as  they  really  were.     He  re-  reports  about  whose  movements  continued 

mained  in  his  camp  on  Bear  Creek  through  to  be  contradictory  and  uncertain. 


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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


261 


THE    FLEET    ON    THE   MISSISSIPPI. 

Another  variation  in  my  Vicksburg  life 
was  visiting  Admiral  Porter,  who  com- 
manded the  fleet  which  hemmed  in  the  city 
on  the  river  side.  Porter  was  a  very  ac- 
tive, courageous,  fresh-minded  man  and 
an  experienced  naval  officer,  and  I  enjoyed 
the  visits  I  made  to  his  fleet.  His  boats 
were  pretty  well  scattered,  for  the  Con- 
federates west  of  the  Mississippi  were 
pressing  in  and  unless  watched  might  man- 
age to  cross  somewhere. 

The  most  serious  attack  from  the  west 
during  the  siege  was  that  on  June  7th, 
when  a  force  of  some  two  thousand  Con- 
federates engaged  about  one  thousand 
negro  troops  defending  Milliken's  Bend. 
This  engagement  became  famous  from  the 
conduct  of  the  negro  troops.  General  E. 
S.  Dennis,  who  saw  the  battle,  told  me 
that  it  was  the  hardest  fought  engagement 
he  had  ever  seen.  It  was  fought  mainly 
hand  to  hand.  After  it  was  over  many 
men  were  found  dead  with  bayonet  stabs, 
and  others  with  their  skulls  broken  open  , 
by  butts  of  muskets.  "  It  is  impossible," 
said  General  Dennis,  "for  men  to  show 
greater  gallantry  than  the  negro  troops  in 
that  fight." 

The  bravery  of  the  blacks  in  the  battle 
at  Milliken's  Bend  completely  revolution- 
ized the  sentiment  of  the  army  with  re- 
gard to  the  employment  of  negro  troops. 
I  heard  prominent  officers  who  formerly 
in  private  had  sneered  at  the  idea  of  the 
negroes  fighting  express  themselves  after 
that  as  heartily  in  favor  of  it.  Among 
the  Confederates,  however,  the  feeling 
was  very  different.  All  the  reports  which 
came  to  us  showed  that  both  citizens  and 
soldiers  on  the  Confederate  side  manifested 
great  dismay  at  the  idea  of  our  arming  ne- 
groes. They  said  that  such  a  policy  was 
certain  to  be  followed  by  insurrection  with 
all  its  horrors. 

PROGRESS   OF    THE    SIEGE. 

Although  Joe  Johnston  on  the  east  and 
the  rumors  of  invasion  by  Kirby  Smith 
on  the  west  compelled  constant  attention, 
the  real  work  behind  Vicksburg  was  always 
that  of  the  siege.  No  amount  of  outside 
alarm  loosened  Grant's  hold  on  the  rebel 
stronghold.  It  went  on  steadily  and  effec- 
tively. By  June  10th  the  expected  re- 
enforcements  began  to  report.  Grant 
soon  had  80,000  men  around  Vicksburg. 
The    effect   was    marked ;    we  even   be- 


gan to  receive  encouraging  reports  from 
within  Vicksburg.  Deserters  said  that  the 
garrison  was  worn  out  and  hungry;  be- 
sides, the  defense  had  for  some  time 
been  conducted  with  extraordinary  feeble- 
ness, which  Grant  thought  was  due  either 
to  the  deficiency  of  ammunition,  or  ex- 
haustion and  depression  in  the  garrison, 
or  to  their  retirement  to  an  inner  line  of 
defense. 

These  reports  from  within  the  town, 
as  well  as  the  progress  of  the  siege  and 
the  arrival  of  reinforcements,  pointed  so 
strongly  to  the  speedy  surrender  of  the 
place  that  I  asked  Mr.  Stanton  in  my  de- 
spatch of  June  14th  to  please  inform  me  by 
telegram  whether  he  wished  me  to  go  to 
General  Rosecrans  after  the  fall  of  Vicks- 
burg or  whether  he  had  other  orders  for 
me. 

VICKSBURG    WAKES    UP. 

The  next  day  after  this  letter,  however, 
the  enemy  laid  aside  his  long-standing  in- 
activity and  opened  violently  with  both 
artillery  and  musketry.  Two  mortars 
.which  the  Confederates  got  into  operation 
that  day  particularly  interested  our  gen- 
erals. I  remember  going  with  a  party  of 
some  twenty  officers,  including  Sherman, 
McPherson,  and  Wilson,  to  the  brow 
of  a  hill  on  McPherson's  front  to  watch 
this  battery  with  our  field  glasses.  From 
where  we  were  we  could  study  the  whole 
operation.  We  saw  the  shell  start  from 
the  mortar,  sail  slowly  through  the  air 
towards  us,  fall  to  the  ground  and  explode, 
digging  out  a  hole  which  looked  like  a 
crater.  I  remember  one  of  these  craters 
which  must  have  been  nine  feet  in  di- 
ameter. As  you  watched  a  shell  coming 
you  could  not  tell  whether  it  would  fall  a 
thousand  feet  away  or  by  your  side.  Yet 
nobody  budged.  The  men  sat  there  on 
their  horses,  their  reins  loose,  studying 
and  discussing  the  work  of  the  batteries, 
apparently  indifferent  to  the  danger.  It 
was  very  interesting  as  a  study  of  human 
steadiness. 


THE    ARTILLERY    ASSAULT    OF    JUNE    3OTH. 

By  the  middle  of  June  our  lines  were  so 
near  the  enemy's  on  Sherman's  and  Mc- 
Pherson's front  that  General  Grant  began 
to  consider  another  general  assault.  The 
chief  difficulty  in  the  way  was  that  Mc- 
Clernand's  lines  were  too  backward.  This 
obstacle  was  soon  removed,  for  on  the 
18th  of  June  McClernand  was  relieved 
and  General  Ord  put  into  his  place.     The 


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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


immediate  cause  of  McClernand's  re- 
moval was  a  congratulatory  address  to  the 
Thirteenth  Army  Corps  which  he  had  ful- 
minated in  May,  and  which  first  reached  the 
besieging  army  in  a  copy  of  the  Missouri 
"  Democrat. "  In  this  address  McCler- 
nand  claimed  for  himself  most  of  the 
glory  of  the  campaign,  reaffirmed  that  on 
May  22d  he  had  held  two  rebel  forts  for 
several  hours,  and  imputed  to  other  offi- 
cers and  troops  failure  to  support  him  in 
their  possession,  which  must  have  resulted 
in  the  capture  of  the  town,  etc.  Though 
this  congratulatory  address  was  the  occa- 
sion of  McClernand's  removal,  it  was  not 
the  cause  of  it.  That  dated  further  back. 
The  cause,  as  I  understood  it  at  the  time, 
was  his  repeated  disobedience  of  impor- 
tant orders,  his  general  unfortunate  men- 
tal disposition,  and  his  palpable  incompe- 


tence for  the  duties  of  his  position.  I 
learned  in  private  conversation  that  in 
General  Grant's  judgment  it  was  necessary 
that  McClernand  should  be  removed  for 
the  reason,  above  all,  that  his  bad  relations 
with  other  corps  commanders,  especially 
Sherman  and  McPherson,  rendered  it  im- 
possible that  the  chief  command  of  the 
army  should  devolve  upon  him  as  the  senior 
major-general,  as  it  would  have  done  were 
General  Grant  disabled,  without  some  per- 
nicious consequence  to  the  cause. 

Two  days  after  McClernand's  removal 
Grant  began,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, an  artillery  attack  in  which  about  200 
cannon  were  engaged.     The  assault  lasted 
about  six  hours,  but  accomplished  almost 
nothing.     During  the  firing  no  Confeder- 
ates were  visible,  nor  was  any  reply  made 
to  our  artillery.     Their  musketry  fire  also 
amounted    to    nothing. 
Of    course,  some    dam- 
age   was    done   to    the 
buildings    of    the   town 
by  our  concentrated  can- 
nonade,   but  we    could 
not   tell    whether    their 
mills,  foundry,  or  store- 
houses were   destroyed. 
Their  rifle-pitsand  earth- 
works were,  of   course, 
little  injured. 


GENERAL   JOHN    A.    RAWI.INS.       BORN    IN    1831  ;    DIED    IN    1869. 

Grant  first  knew  Rawlins  at  Galena,  Illinois,  near  which  place  the  latter  was  born  and  where 
he  had  raised  himself,  in  spite  of  poverty,  to  the  rank  of  a  respectable  lawyer.  He  was  a  Douglas 
Democrat  and  a  strong  Union  man.  When  Gtant  was  promoted  to  brigadier-general  he  asked 
Rawlins  to  become  a  member  of  his  staff,  with  the  rank  of  captain.  Rawlins  joined  Grant  in  Sep- 
tember, 1861,  at  Cairo,  became  his  assistant  adjutant-general,  and  finally  his  chief  of  staff,  remain- 
ing with  him  to  the  end.  He  was  promoted  to  brigadier-general  August  11.  1863,  and  brigadier- 
general  and  chief  of  staff  of  the  United  States  Army  March  5.  1865.  Grant,  as  President,  made  him 
Secretary  of  War  March  n.  1869.    He  died  September  6, 1869. 


Mcpherson  springs  a 
mine. 

After  the  artillery  at- 
tack on  the  20th,  the 
next  exciting  incident 
of  the  siege  was  the 
springing  of  a  mine  by 
McPherson.  Directly 
in  front  of  his  position 
the  enemy  had  a  great 
fort  which  was  regarded 
as  the  key  of  their  line. 
As  soon  as  McPherson 
had  gotten  into  position 
behind  Vicksburg,  he 
had  begun  to  run  trench- 
es towards  this  fort, 
under  which  he  subse- 
quently tunneled,  hoping 
that  by  an  explosion 
he  would  open  it  to  our 
occupation.  After  a 
month's  labor  he  had 
his  mine  ready  and 
charged  with  1,200 
pounds  of  gunpowder. 
About    four   o'clock  of 


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the  afternoon  of  June  25th  the  mine  was 
sprung.  The  explosion  was  terrific,  form- 
ing a  crater  fully  thirty-five  feet  in  diam- 
eter; but  it  did  not  open  the  fort.  There 
still  remained  between  the  new  ground 
which  we  had  won  by  the  explosion  and 
the  fort  an  ascent  so  steep  that  an  assault 
was  practically  impossible.  From  this 
point  a  desperate  at- 
tempt was  made, 
however,  to  gain 
ground  which  would 
be  of  practical  value. 
The  fight  was  kept 
up  with  fury  for  sev- 
eral days,  but  we 
were  never  able 
either  to  plant  a  bat- 
tery or  open  a  rifle- 
pit  there. 

Eventually  Mc- 
Pherson  completed  a 
new  mine,  which  he 
exploded  qn  the  first 
day  of  July.  Many 
Confederates  were 
killed,  and  six  were 
thrown  over  into  our 
lines  by  the  explo- 
sion. They  were  all 
dead  but  one,  a  ne- 
gro, who  got  well 
and  joined  our  army. 
McPherson  did  not, 
however,  get  posses- 
sion of  the  place 
through  this  mine,  as 
he  had  hoped. 

APATHY    AMONG  THE 
BESIEGERS. 


Little  advance- 
ment was  made  in  the 
siege  after  McPher- 
son sprang  his  first 
mine  on  the  25th  of 
June,  except  in  time, 
and  to  hold  the  lines 

of  investment.  Several  things  conspired  to 
produce  inactivity  and  a  sort  of  listlessness 
among  the  various  commands — the  heat  of 
the  weather;  the  unexpected  length  of 
the  siege;  the  endurance  of  the  defense; 
the  absence  of  any  thorough  organization 
of  the  engineer  department;  and,  above 
all,  the  well-grounded  general  belief  of 
our  officers  and  men  that  the  town  must 
presently  fall  through  starvation,  without 
any  special  effort  or  sacrifice.  This  be- 
lief   was   founded    on    the   reports    from 


GENERAL  JAMBS   HARRISON   WILSON.      BORN   IN    1837. 

General  Wilson  was  born  in  Shawneetown,  Illinois.  He 
graduated  from  West  Point  in  i860,  and  was  assigned  to  the  topo- 
graphical engineers.  He  served  from  the  beginning  to  the  end 
of  the  Civil  War,  taking  part  in  the  Port  Royal  expedition,  the 
bombardment  of  Fort  Pulaski,  the  battles  of  South  Mountain  and 
Antietam,  the  siege  of  Vicksburg,  the  operations  at  Chattanooga, 
the  calvary  raids  in  Virginia  in  1864,  the  Shenandoah  campaign 
in  the  foil  of  1864,  and  Sherman's  march  north  from  Atlanta.  In 
the  spring  of  1865  he  conducted  a  cavalry  expedition  through 
Alabama  and  Georgia,  capturing  five  fortified  cities  and  nearly 
7,000  prisoners,  among  whom  was  Jefferson  Davis.  For  his  ser- 
vices he  was  commissioned  lieutenant-colonel  and  brevetted 
major-general  in  the  regular  army.  In  1870  he  was  honorably 
discharged  from  the  army  at  his  own  request.  He  is  the  author 
of  several  books,  among  them  a  "  Life  of  General  V.  S.  Grant," 
written  in  conjunction  with  Charles  A.  Dana. 


within  W.ksburg.  Every  new  party  of 
deserters  which  reached  us  agreed  that  the 
provisions  of  the  place  were  near  the 
point  of  total  exhaustion,  that  rations  had 
been  reduced  lower  than  ever,  that  extreme 
dissatisfaction  existed  among  the  garrison; 
and  it  was  generally  expected — indeed, 
there  was  a  sort  of  conviction — on  all 
hands  that  the  city 
would  be  surrendered 
on  Saturday,  July 
4th,  if,  in  fact,  it 
could  hold  out  as 
long  as  that. 

The  general  indis- 
position of  our  troops 
to  prosecute  the  siege 
zealously,  and  the 
evident  determina- 
tion on  the  part  of 
the  enemy  to  hold  out 
until  the  last,  caused 
General  Grant  to 
hold  a  council  of  war 
on  the  morning  of 
June  30th,  to  take 
judgment  on  the 
question  of  trying 
another  general  as- 
sault, or  leaving  the 
result  to  the  exhaus- 
tion of  the  garrison. 
The  conclusion  of 
the  council  was  in 
favor  of  the  latter 
policy;  but  two  days 
later,  July  2d,  Grant 
told  me  that  if  the 
enemy  did  not  give 
up  Vicksburg  by  the 
6th,  he  should  storm 
it. 

PEMBERTON  ASKS  FOR 
AN    INTERVIEW. 


Happily,  there  was 
no  need  to  wait  until 
the  6th.  The  gen- 
eral expectation  that  something  would 
happen  by  July  4th  was  about  to  be  con- 
firmed. On  the  morning  of  Friday,  July 
3d,  a  man  appeared  on  the  Confederate 
line,  in  McPherson's  front,  bearing  a  flag 
of  truce.  General  A.  J.  Smith  was  sent  to 
meet  the  man,  who  proved  to  be  an  officer, 
General  J.  S.  Bowen.  He  bore  a  letter 
from  Pemberton  addressed  to  Grant.  The 
letter  was  taken  to  headquarters,  where  it 
was  read  by  the  general,  and  its  contents 
made  known  to  the  staff.     It  was  a  request 


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264 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR, 


for  an  armistice  to  arrange  terms  for  the 
capitulation  of  Vicksburg.  To  this  end 
Pemberton  asked  that  three  commissioners 
be  appointed  to  meet  a  like  number  to  be 
named  by  himself.  Grant  immediately 
wrote  a  reply: 

"The  useless  effusion  of  blood  you  propose  stop- 
ping by  this  course  can  be  ended  at  any  time  you 
may  choose  by  an  unconditional  surrender  of  the  city 
and  garrison.  Men  who  have  shown  so  much  en- 
durance and  courage  as  those  now  in  Vicksburg  will 
always  challenge  the  respect  of  an  adversary,  and  I 
can  assure  you  will  be  treated  with  all  the  respect  due 
to  prisoners  of  war. 

"  I  do  not  favor  the  proposition  of  appointing  com- 
missioners to  arrange  terms  of  capitulation,  because 
I  have  no  terms  other  than  those  indicated  above." 

Bowen,  the  bearer  of  Pemberton's  letter, 
who  had  been  received  by  A.  J.  Smith,  ex- 
pressed a  strong  desire  to  converse  with 
General  Grant.  While  declining  this, 
Grant  requested  Smith  to  say  to  Bowen 
that  if  General  Pemberton  desired  to  see 
him  an  interview  would  be  granted  be- 
tween the  lines,  in  McPherson's  front,  at 
any  hour  in  the  afternoon  which  Pember- 
ton might  appoint.  After  Bo  wen's  depart- 
ure a  message  was  soon  sent  back  to 
Smith  accepting  the  proposal  for  an  inter- 
view and  appointing  three  o'clock  as  the 
hour.  Grant  was  there  with  his  staff  and 
with  Generals  Ord,  McPherson,  Logan, 
and  A.  J.  Smith.  Sherman  was  not  pres- 
ent, being  with  his  command,  watching 
Joe  Johnston,  and  ready  to  spring  upon 
the  latter  as  soon  as  Pemberton  was  cap- 
tured. Pemberton  came  late,  attended 
by  General  Bowen  and  Colonel  (L.  M.) 
Montgomery. 

It  must  have  been  a  bitter  moment  for 
the  Confederate  chieftain.  Pemberton  was 
a  Northern  man,  a  Pennsylvanian  by  birth, 
from  which  State  he  was  appointed  to  West 
Point,  graduating  in  1837.  In  the  old 
army  he  fell  under  the  spell  of  Jefferson 
Davis's  influence,  whose  close  friend  he 
was.  Davis  appears  to  have  thought 
Pemberton  was  a  military  genius,  for  he 
was  jumped  almost  at  a  stroke,  without 
much  previous  service,  to  be  a  lieutenant- 
general,  and  the  defense  of  the  Mississippi 
River  given  over  to  his  charge.  His  dis- 
positions throughout  the  entire  campaign, 
after  Grant  crossed  at  Bruinsburg,  were 
weak,  and  he  was  easily  overcome,  al- 
though his  troops  fought  well.  As  Joe 
Johnston  truthfully  remarks  in  his  "  Nar- 
rative," Pemberton  did  not  understand 
Grant's  warfare  at  all.  Penned  up,  and 
finally  compelled  to  surrender  a  vital  post 
and  a  great  army  to  his  conqueror,  an  al- 


most irremediable  disaster  to  his  cause, 
Pemberton  not  only  suffered  the  usual 
pangs  of  defeat,  but  he  was  doubly  humili- 
ated with  the  knowledge  that  he  would  be 
suspected  and  accused  of  treachery  by 
his  adopted  brethren,  and  that  the  result 
would  be  used  by  the  enemies  of  Davis, 
whose  favorite  he  was,  to  undermine  the 
Confederate  administration.  As  it  tran- 
spired, it  was  indeed  a  great  blow  to 
Davis's  hold  upon  the  people  of  the  South. 
These  things  must  have  passed  through 
Pemberton's  mind  as  he  faced  Grant  for 
this  final  settlement  of  the  fate  of  Vicks- 
burg. 

The  conversation  was  held  apart  be- 
tween Pemberton  and  his  two  officers  and 
Grant,  McPherson,  and  A.  J.  Smith,  the 
rest  of  us  being  seated  on  the  ground 
near  by. 

We  could,  however,  see  that  Pemberton 
was  much  excited  and  was  impatient  in 
his  answers  to  Grant.  He  insisted  that 
his  army  be  paroled  and  allowed  to  march 
beyond  our  lines,  officers  and  all,  with 
eight  days'  rations  drawn  from  their  own 
stores,  officers  to  retain  their  private  prop- 
erty and  body  servants.  Grant  heard 
what  he  had  to  say,  and  left  him  at  the 
end  of  an  hour  and  a  half,  saying  that  he 
would  send  in  his  ultimatum  in  writing  be- 
fore evening;  to  which  Pemberton  prom- 
ised to  reply  before  night,  hostilities  to 
cease  in  the  meantime.  Grant  then  con- 
ferred at  his  headquarters  with  his  corps 
and  division  commanders,  all  of  whom 
except  Steele,  who  advised  unconditional 
surrender,  favored  a  plan  proposed  by 
McPherson,  to  release  on  parole  the  en- 
tire garrison,  which  Grant  finally  adopted. 
The  argument  against  the  plan  was  one  of 
feeling  only.  In  its  favor  was  urged  that 
it  would  at  once  not  only  tend  to  the  demor- 
alization of  the  enemy,  but  release  Grant's 
whole  army  for  offensive  operations  against 
Joe  Johnston  and  Port  Hudson;  while  to 
guard  and  transport  so  many  prisoners 
would  require  a  great  portion  of  its 
strength.  Keeping  them  would  also  ab- 
sorb all  our  steamboat  transportation, 
while  paroling  them  would  leave  it  free  to 
move  our  troops.  Paroling  would  other- 
wise save  us  an  enormous  expenditure. 

After  long  consideration,  General  Grant 
reluctantly  gave  way  to  these  reasons, 
and  at  six  p.m.  sent  a  letter  by  the  hands  of 
General  Logan  and  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Wilson,  in  which  he  stated  as  terms  that,  as 
soon  as  rolls  could  be  made  out  and  pa- 
roles signed  by  officers  and  men,  Pember- 
ton would  be  allowed  to  march  out  of  our 


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CHARLES  A,   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


265 


lines,  the  officers  taking  with  them  their 
side-arms  and  clothing,  and  the  field, 
staff,  and  cavalry  officers  one  horse  each. 
The  rank  and  file  were  to  be  allowed  all 
their  clothing,  but  no  other  property.  If 
these  conditions  were  accepted,  any  amount 
of  rations  deemed  necessary  was  to  be 
taken  from  the  stores  they  had,  and  also 
the  necessary  cooking  utensils  for  prepar- 
ing them.  Thirty  wagons  also,  counting 
two  two-horse  or  mule  teams  as  one,  were 
to  be  allowed  to  transport  such  articles  as 
could  not  be  carried  along.  The  same 
conditions  were  allowed  to  all  sick  and 
wounded  officers  and  soldiers  as  fast  as 
they  became  able  to  travel. 

The  officer  who  received  this  letter  said 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  answer  it  by 
night,  and  it  was  not  till  a  little  before 
peep  of  day  that  the  proposed  reply  was 
furnished.  In  the  main  the  terms  were 
accepted,  but  Pemberton  proposed  as 
amendments: 

**  At  ten  a.m.  to-morrow  I  propose  to  evacuate  the 
works  in  and  around  Vicksburg,  and  to  surrender 
the  city  and  garrison  under  my  command,  by  march- 
ing out  with  my  colors  and  arms,  stacking  them  in 
front  of  my  present  lines,  after  which  you  will  take 
possession  ;  officers  to  retain  their  side-arms  and  per- 
sonal property,  and  the  rights  and  property  of  citi- 
zens to  be  respected." 

General  Grant  in  his  reply  said: 

**  I  can  make  no  stipulations  with  regard  to  the 
treatment  of  citizens  and  their  private  property. 
.  .  The  property  which  officers  will  be  allowed 
to  take  with  them  will  be  as  stated  in  my  proposition 
of  last  evening.  ...  If  you  mean  by  your 
proposition  for  each  brigade  to  march  to  the  front 
of  the  line  now  occupied  by  it,  and  stack  arms  at  ten 
A.  M. ,  and  then  return  to  the  inside  and  there  remain 
as  prisoners  until  properly  paroled,  I  will  make  no 
objection  to  it. 

41  Should  no  notification  be  received  of  your  ac- 
ceptance of  my  terms  by  nine  a.m.,  I  shall  regard 
them  as  having  been  rejected,  and  shall  act  accord- 
ingly." 

The  answer  came  back  promptly:  "  The 
terms  proposed  by  you  are  accepted." 

4TH    OF    JULY,   1863,   AT    VICKSBURG. 

We  had  a  glorious  celebration  that  day. 
Pemberton's  note  had  been  received  just 
after  daylight,  and  at  the  appointed  hour 
of  ten  o'clock  the  surrender  was  consum- 
mated. I  rode  into  Vicksburg  at  the  side 
of  the  conqueror,  and  afterward  perambu- 
lated among  the  conquered.  The  rebel 
soldiers  were  generally  more  contented 
even  than  we.  Now  they  were  going 
home,  they  said.  They  had  had  enough  of 
the  war.  The  cause  of  the  Confederacy 
was  lost.     They  wanted  to  take  the  oath 


of  allegiance,  many  of  them.  I  was  not 
surprised  to  learn  a  month  later  that  of 
the  twenty  odd  thousand  well  men  who 
were  paroled  at  Vicksburg  the  greater 
part  had  since  dispersed;  and  I  felt  sure 
they  could  never  be  got  to  serve  again. 
The  officers,  on  the  other  hand,  all  de- 
clared their  determination  never  to  give 
in.  They  had  mostly  on  that  day  the 
look  of  men  who  have  been  crying  all 
night.  One  major  who  commanded  a  regi- 
ment from  Missouri  burst  into  tears  as  he 
followed  his  disarmed  men  back  into  their 
lines  after  they  had  surrendered  their  col- 
ors and  their  guns  in  front  of  them. 

I  found  the  buildings  of  Vicksburg  in  a 
better  condition  than  I  had  expected. 
Still,  there  were  a  good  many  people  living 
in  caves  dug  in  the  banks.  Naturally  the 
shells  did  less  damage  to  these  vaults 
than  to  dwellings.  At  the  end  of  the 
first  week  after  our  entrance  66,000  stand 
of  small  arms  had  been  collected,  mainly 
in  good  condition,  and  more  were  con- 
stantly being  discovered.  They  were  con- 
cealed in  caves,  as  well  as  in  all  sorts 
of  buildings.  The  siege  and  sea-coast 
guns  found  exceeded  sixty,  and  the  whole 
captured  artillery  was  above  200  pieces. 
The  stores  of  rebel  ammunition  also  proved 
to  be  surprisingly  heavy.  As  Grant  ex- 
pressed it,  there  was  enough  to  have  kept 
up  the  defense  for  six  years  at  the  rate 
they  were  using  it.  The  stock  of  army 
clothing  was  officially  invoiced  at  $5,000,- 
000 — Confederate  prices.  Of  sugar,  mo- 
lasses, and  salt  there  was  a  large  quantity, 
and  60,000  pounds  of  bacon  were  found 
in  one  place. 

The  day  after  we  entered  the  town  (July 
5th)  I  wrote  Mr.  Stanton  a  long  telegram, 
describing  the  surrender  and  giving  him 
all  the  important  facts  I  had  gathered  con- 
cerning the  condition  of  things  in  Vicks- 
burg, and  at  the  same  time  telling  him 
Grant's  plans.  The  telegram,  for  some 
reason,  has  never  found  its  way  into  the 
War  Records,  so  that  I  give  it  here  in  full: 


Office   of    U.   S.    Military   Telegraph,   War 
Department. 

The  following  telegram  received  at  Washington, 
10  a.m.,  July  11,  1S63. 

From  Vicksburg,  Miss.,  ii  p.m. 
Dated  July  5,  1863. 
Hon.  E.  M.  Stanton  : 

The  surrender  was  quietly  consummated  yesterday 
morning  at  the  appointed  hour  of  ten  o'clock.  The 
rebel  troops  marched  out  and  stacked  arms  in  front 
of  their  works,  while  General  Pemberton  appeared  for 
a  moment  with  his  staff  upon  the  parapet  of  the  cen- 
tral fort.     The  occupation  of  the  place  by  our  forces 

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266 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


was  directed  by  General  McPherson,  who  had  been 
appointed  to  command  here  ;  Logan  being  assigned 
to  command  the  post  under  him.  The  divisions  of 
Logan,  J.  E.  Smith,  and  Herron  now  garrison  the  line 
of  fortifications  and  furnish  guards  for  the  interior  of 
the  city.  No  troops  remain  outside  ;  everything 
quiet  here.  Grant  entered  the  city  at  eleven 
o'clock,  and  was  received  by  Pemberton  with  more 
marked  impertinence  than  at  their  former  interview. 
He  bore  it  like  a  philosopher,  and  in  reply  treated 
Pemberton  with  even  gentler  courtesy  and  dignity 
than  before. 

Of  the  number  of  prisoners  we  have  as  yet  no 
precise  information.  Major  Lockett,  Pemberton's 
chief  of  engineers,  reported  it  unofficially  yester- 
day at  twenty-seven  thousand  ;  but  to-day,  when 
the  rebel  brigadiers  brought  in  their  requisitions 
for  food — which  they  did,  notwithstanding  Pem- 
berton's clause  in  the  capitulation  that  he  should 
draw  eight  days'  supplies  from  his  own  stores — 
the  aggregate  of  the  men  for  whom  they  thus 
drew  rations  was  a  little  over  thirty  thousand.  Mc- 
Pherson issued  to  them  five  rations  per  man,  all  they 
are  to  have.  No  citizens  have  yet  applied  for  ra- 
tions. The  paroling  is  being  pushed  with  all  possi- 
ble rapidity,  and  will  doubtless  be  completed  by  the 
close  of  day  after  to-morrow.  Among  the  officers 
already  paroled  are  nineteen  generals,  with  their 
staffs,  including  one  lieutenant  and  four  major-gen- 
erals. Large  numbers  of  the  men  express  a  warm  de- 
sire to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance,  and  it  is  certain  that 
their  officers  will  find  it  difficult  to  march  them  to 
their  camps  east  of  the  Tombigbee.  They  have  fifty- 
four  hundred  men  on  their  sick  lists ;  of  these 
twenty-five  hundred  must  be  left  behind  here. 
Their  losses  during  the  siege  are  estimated  by  Judge 
Hamilton,  an  intelligent  citizen  of  the  place,  at  six 
thousand.  Grant  intends  that  they  shall  move 
from  here  to  the  Big  Black  by  the  Baldwin's  Ferry 
road.  Of  course  he  will  put  no  guards  over  them 
after  they  are  out  of  the  city.  Pemberton  having 
complained  that  the  thirty  wagons  agreed  upon  in 
the  capitulation  were  not  enough,  Grant  has  told  him 
to  take  fifty.  The  universal  testimony  of  the  rebel 
officers  is  that  their  conscript  soldiers  have  been 
worthless  to  them. 

The  official  return  of  the  field  artillery  surrendered 
makes  it  one  hundred  including  many  \  rench,  Span- 
ish, and  Austrian  guns  and  two  pieces  [word  omit- 
ted]. No  report  of  siege  and  sea-coast  guns  has 
been  made.  Their  number  is  from  thirty  to  fifty. 
Neither  do  we  yet  know  what  quantity  of  ammuni- 
tion the  rebels  had  remaining,  but  some  of  their  offi- 
cers say  they  had  only  twenty  rounds  per  man  and 
per  cannon.  Captain  Comstock,  Grant's  chief  en- 
gineer, to-day  visited  the  fortifications.  He  reports 
them  as  simple  field  works,  but  of  considerable 
strength  from  the  natural  conformation  of  the  ground 
— with  one  single  exception  the  forts  are  all  open  at 
the  gorge.  Grant  has  ordered  Comstock  to  find,  if 
possible,  a  shorter  line  ;  but  he  reports  that  no  line 
can  be  found  which  can  be  defended  by  a  smaller 
force  than  the  present.     He  says  that  this  line  can 


be  repaired  and  strengthened  so  that  five  thousand 
men  can  hold  it  against  twenty  thousand. 

This  he  will  at  once  proceed  to  do,  as  also  to  ob- 
literate the  siege  approach  on  which  we  have  worked 
so  hard  and  so  long.  The  buildings  of  the  town  are 
much  less  damaged  than  we  had  expected.  There 
is  a  considerable  supply  of  railroad  carriages  here, 
with  one  or  two  locomotives  in  working  condition. 
Orders  have  been  given  instantly  to  put  the  railroad 
in  repair  as  far  as  the  Big  Black,  and  it  will  be  ready 
to  transport  supplies  to  Sherman  before  to-morrow 
night.  Of  Johnston's  movements  we  have  no  posi- 
tive intelligence,  except  the  report  just  brought  in  that 
Breckinridge's  wagon  train  has  started  from  Bolton 
under  orders  to  go  east  of  Pearl  River. 

Sherman  is  moving  after  Johnston  with  the  utmost 
speed  practicable.  His  bridges  were  laid  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  3d,  and  his  forces  started  yester- 
day, as  soon  as  Pemberton  finally  accepted  Grant's 
ultimatum.  Part  of  Ord's  corps  is  also  already 
across  the  Big  Black,  and  Steele  s  division  must  be 
ready  to  cross  at  daylight  to-morrow,  though  we 
have  reports  that  the  marching  of  the  last  of  Steele 
and  Ord  from  here  was  not  completed  till  this  fore- 
noon. The  Ninth  Army  Corps  has  moved  forward 
towards  Bear  Creek,  from  its  previous  position  in  front 
of  Haynes's  Bluffs,  but  will  not  go  further  unless  Sher- 
man finds  that  he  can  compel  Johnston  to  a  general 
engagement.  This  is  not  now  expected.  It  is  sup- 
posed that  Johnston  is  moving  east  and  has  the  bulk 
of  his  forces  already  out  of  our  way.  This  Sherman 
will  ascertain  positively  by  to-morrow  or  next,  day, 
and  in  that  event  the  Ninth  Corps  will  instantly  re- 
turn to  Kentucky.  The  steamers  are  now  waiting 
for  them  ;  meanwhile  it  is  hardly  possible  that  Sher- 
man can  fail  to  cut  off  some  portion  of  Johnston's 
army  and  trains. 

Grant  yesterday  evening  sent  a  message  to  Banks 
to  know  if  he  still  needs  reinforcements.  Another 
messenger  was  sent  on  the  1st  inst.  on  the  same 
business,  and  should  be  back  here  to-night.  If 
Banks  requires  it,  Herron's  division  will  at  once  be 
sent  to  him,  to  be  followed  by  as  many  other  troops 
as  may  be  necessary.  As  soon  as  the  prisoners  here 
are  out  of  the  way,  an  expedition  will  be  sent  to  the 
Tensas,  under  Logan,  to  clear  out  the  rebel  troops 
there,  chastise  their  people  for  the  share  in  the  recent 
raids  on  the  Mississippi,  and  bring  away  the  negroes 
and  cattle.  Grant  designs  to  organize  for  the  per- 
manent garrison  of  Vicksburg  one  or  two  negro  regi- 
ments of  heavy  artillery ;  for  these  he  will  ask  the 
privilege  of  himself  nominating  the  officers. 

General  Grant,  being  himself  intensely  occupied, 
desires  me  to  say  that  he  would  like  to  receive  from 
General  Hal  leek  as  soon  as  practicable  cither  general 
or  specific  instructions  as  to  the  future  conduct  .of  the 
war  in  his  department.  He  has  no  idea  of  going  into 
summer  quarters,  nor  does  he  doubt  his  ability  to  em- 
ploy his  army  so  as  to  make  its  blows  tell  towards 
the  Great  Result  ;  but  he  would  like  to  be  informed 
whether  the  government  wishes  him  to  follow  his  own 
judgment  or  to  cooperate  in  some  particular  scheme 
of  operations.  C.  A.   Dana. 


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VESPERTINA  QUIES. 
From  a  copyright  photograph  by  Frederick  Hollyer,  London,  after  the  painting  by  Sir  Edward  Burne-Jones. 


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SAIRY    SPENCER'S    REVOLT. 


By  Carrie  Blake  Morcan. 


ABRAHAM  SPENCER  came  up  the 
lane  from  the  fields,  carrying  his 
discolored  old  straw  hat  in  one  hand  and 
mopping  his  face  with  a  red  cotton  hand- 
kerchief. He  walked  stiffly  and  slightly 
bent  forward  from  the  hips,  as  do  most 
hard-working  men  who  have  passed  the 
half-century  mark,  but  he  set  his  heavily- 
shod  feet  down  with  a  firmness  that  be- 
spoke considerable  physical  vigor  as  well 
as  mental  decision. 

He  scanned  the  house  sharply  as  he  ap- 
proached, and  his  shaggy  brows  were 
drawn  almost  together  in  a  frown.  It 
was  the  middle  of  a  sultry  August  after- 
noon, yet  the  doors  and  windows  were  all 
closed  and  the  green  hoi  land  blinds 
were  drawn  down.  He  tried  the  back 
door  and  found  it  fast,  and  though  he 
pounded  on  it  with  his  horny  knuckles, 
there  was  no  response  save  a  startled 
"  cuk,  cuk,  cuk!  "  from  an  old  hen  with  a 
brood  of  downy  chicks  wallowing  in  the 
dust  beside  the  steps. 

"  Now  this  is  mighty  strange,"  he  mut- 
tered, perplexedly.  "I  wouldn't  've 
thought  Sairy  'd  go  away  from  home  this 
way  all  of  a  sudden.  She  didn't  say  a 
word  about  it  at  noontime.  She's  never 
done  such  a  thing  before,  as  I  know  of." 

He  stood  still  for  a  little  while,  medi- 
tatively rubbing  his  thumbs  and  forefin- 
gers together  while  he  pondered  the  un- 
precedented situation. 

"  Couldn't  be  asleep,  I  reckon,"  he 
conjectured.  "  Never  knowed  her  to  sleep 
in  daytime." 

Nevertheless,  he  came  down  the  steps 
and  went  around  the  house  to  a  chamber 
window,  where  he  parted  a  tangle  of  hop 
vines  and  rapped  sharply  on  the  sash. 

"Sairy!"  he  called.  "Sairy!  are  you 
to  home  ?  " 

There  was  a  slight  sound  from  within, 
as  of  a  creaking  board  beneath  a  careful 
footstep,  then  a  shade  was  lifted  at  one 
side,  and  a  thin,  startled,  elderly  face 
looked  out. 

"What  on  earth's  the  matter,  Sairy? 
What's  the  house  all  shut  up  like  a  jail 
for?"  demanded  Abraham  Spencer,  in  a 
high-pitched,  irascible  tone.  "  Don't  you 
know    the     Rhynearsons    've    been    here 


and  gone  away  again  ?  "  he  went  on.  44 1 
saw  'em  from  the  north  medder,  and  I've 
come  clear  home  to  see  what's  the  matter. 
Was  you  asleep  ?  Didn't  you  hear  'em 
knock  ?  " 

Mrs.  Spencer  rolled  up  the  shade,  and 
lifted  the  sash  with  hands  that  trembled. 

"Come,  now,  speak  up  quick,"  added 
her  husband,  impatiently,  "  for  I'm  goin' 
after  'em  and  bring  'em  back,  and  I  want 
to  know  what  to  tell  'em." 

"  No,  no,  Abra'm,  don't  go  after  'em." 
Mrs.  Spencer  dropped  on  her  knees  and 
leaned  her  arms  wearily  on  the  window  sill. 
She  spoke  pleadingly,  and  there  were  tears 
in  her  voice  as  well  as  in  her  eyes.  "  Oh, 
Abra'm,  I  kep'  'em  out  a-purpose. " 

"You — what?"  Abraham  Spencer's 
tone  implied  that  he  was  forced  to  doubt 
the  evidence  of  the  ears  that  had  served 
him  well  for  nearly  threescore  years. 

"  I  kep'  'em  out  a-purpose.  I  knowed 
you'd  be  mad,  but  I  couldn't  help  it.  I'm 
just  too  mortal  tired  and  miser'ble  to  care 
what  becomes  of  me.  I  ain't  able  to  get 
supper  for  you  and  the  hands,  let  alone 
all  that  Rhynearson  gang.  I've  worked 
so  hard  to-day,  and  I  didn't  sleep  much 
last  night  for  my  rheumatiz.  I'm  gettin' 
old  fast,  and  breakin'  down,  Abra'm.  I 
can't  hold  out  much  longer  if  I  don't  slack 
up  a  little  on  hard  work." 

"Well,  why  in  thunder  don't  you  slack 
up,  then  ?  What's  to  hinder  you  from 
goin'  to  bed  after  breakfast  and  stayin' 
there  till  dinner  time  ?  " 

"  Now,  Abra'm,  that's  what  you  always 
say,  and  it's  so  unreasonable.  Who'd  do 
the  work  if  I  went  to  bed  ?  Who'd  feed 
the  chickens  and  pigs,  and  milk  the  cows, 
and  churn  the  butter,  and  clean  the  vege- 
tables, and  bake  the  bread  and  pies,  and 
keep  the  whole  house  in  order  ?  You'd 
come  out  slim  if  I  went  to  bed,  Abra'm." 

"  Well,  slim  or  no  slim,  I  want  you 
to  either  go  to  bed  or  else  shut  up  your 
complainin'." 

"  Now,  Abra'm,  if  you  only  would  be  a 
little  reasonable.  All  I  ask  is  that  you 
let  me  slack  up  a  little  bit  in  ways  that  I 
can.  There  ain't  no  sense  in  us  havin'  so 
muchcomp'ny,  now,  since  the  girls  are  mar- 
ried and  gone.     Comp'ny  makes  so  much 

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SAIRY  SPENCER'S  REVOLT, 


269 


hard  work,  'specially  town  comp'ny. 
Them  high-flyin'  town  folks  don't  care  a 
snap  for  us,  Abra'm.  They  just  like  to 
be  cooked  for  and  waited  on,  and  kep' 
over  night  and  over  Sunday,  and  fed  on 
the  best  of  everything,  from  spring  chicken 
to  watermelons.  Now,  them  Rhynear- 
sons " 

44  Them  Rynearsons  're  my  friends," 
sternly  interposed  Abraham  Spencer; 
44  and  so  long's  I  have  a  roof  over  my  head 
my  friends  're  welcome  under  it.  I 
wouldn't  've  b'lieved  such  a  thing  of  you, 
Sairy.  I  hain't  any  doubt  you're  tired. 
I'm  tired  myself,  most  of  the  time;  but  I 
don't  make  that  an  excuse  for  slightin'  my 
friends." 

"But  you  don't  have  to  cook  for  'em 
and  wait  on  'em,  Abra'm,  when  you're  so 
tired  and  worn  out  that  you  can't  hardly 
drag  one  foot  after  the  other,  and " 

44  Don't  begin  that  old  tune  all  over 
again.  I've  heard  it  a  many  a  time 
already.  You're  gettin'  so  you're  always 
complainin',  and  if  there's  anything  I  hate 
it's  a  naggin'  woman.  Now,  understand, 
I'm  goin'  after  the  Rhynearsons;  I'm 
goin'  to  make  'em  come  back  if  I  can.  Am 
I  to  say  you  was  away  from  home  or 
asleep,  or  what  ?  It  won't  do  for  me  to 
tell  'em  one  thing  and  you  another;  so  just 
tell  me  what  to  say,  and  be  quick  about 
it." 

44  Tell  'em  anything  you  like,  Abra'm,  I 
don't  care  what.  All  I  ask  of  you,  if 
you're  bound  to  go  after  'em,  is  that  you'll 
stop  at  Selwood's  and  get  Sophrony  to 
come  over  and  do  the  work  while  they're 
here." 

44  What,  hire  her?" 

44 Why,  of  course.  You  wouldn't  ask 
a  poor  girl  like  Sophrony  to  work  for  you 
for  nothin',  I  reckon  ?  " 

44  My  land,  Sairy,  how  often  've  I  got 
to  tell  you  I  can't  afford  to  pay  out  money 
for  help  in  the  house  ?  If  you  once  be- 
gin it  you'll  be  always  wantin'  help,  and 
there's  no  sense  in  it.  Why,  there  was 
my  mother " 

Mrs.  Spencer  staggered  to  her  feet. 
She  was  a  tall,  stoop-shouldered,  weak- 
chested  woman;  her  scant  hair  was  iron- 
gray  ;  her  hands  were  hardened  and 
swelled  at  the  joints  with  years  of  toil; 
and  her  face  was  deep-lined  and  sallow. 
Just  now  it  was  as  near  white  as  it  could 
be,  and  a  sudden  hunted,  desperate  look 
bad  come  into  it,  a  look  that  stopped  the 
words  on  her  husband's  lips.  He  broke 
off  abruptly,  and  looked  at  her  in  stern 
surprise  and  displeasure. 


44 1  never  knowed  you  to  act  up  so 
cranky,  Sairy.  I  can't  see  what's  gettin' 
into  you.  Now,  I've  got  no  time  to  fool 
away.  I'll  tell  Mis'  Rhynearson  you  was 
asleep  and  didn't  hear  'em  knock,  shall 
I?  " 

44  Tell  her  anything  you  like,"  was  the 
reply,  in  a  strange,  still  voice,  that  suited 
the  look  in  her  face.  4<  I  won't  contradict 
you." 

44  But  how  do  you  know  you  won't  ?  We 
ought  to  have  a  clear  understandin'.  What 
you  goin'  to  tell  Mis'  Rhynearson  when 
she  asks  you  where  you  was  ?  " 

44  She  won't  ask  me." 

41  Well,  now,  I'd  like  to  know  how  you 
know  she  won't  ?" 

14  Because  I'm  not  goin'  to  give  her  a 
chance." 

The  window  sash  slid  down  to  the  sill, 
and  the  shade  dropped  back  to  its  place. 
Abraham  Spencer  let  go  the  hop  vines  and 
watched  them  cluster  together  again,  with 
a  slightly  dazed  look  in  his  deep-set  gray 
eyes. 

41  Now,  what  in  blazes  can  she  've  meant 
by  that  last?"  he  meditated,  uneasily. 
Then  his  flat,  straight-cut  lips  closed  in  a 
hard  line,  and  he  added,  as  he  turned 
shortly  away:  "  But  I  ain't  agoin'  to  ask 
her.  When  a  man  can't  be  master  in  his 
own  house,  it's  time  for  him  to  burn  it 
down  or  blow  his  brains  out." 

Mrs.  Spencer  heard  his  heavy  heels  re- 
sounding on  the  hard-beaten  path  as  he 
went  around  the  house,  and  each  relent- 
less step  seemed  to  grind  its  way  into  her 
quivering  nerves.  Ordinarily  she  would 
have  taken  timid  note  of  his  movements 
at  the  edge  of  a  window  shade,  for  her 
husband's  anger  had  always  been  a  dread- 
ful thing  to  her.  But  now  she  opened  the 
outer  door  and  stood  there,  watching, 
while  he  brought  a  horse  and  wagon  out 
of  the  barn  and  drove  rapidly  away. 
When  he  had  passed  out  of  sight  she  ex- 
claimed bitterly: 

44  I'll  not  stand  it!  I'll  hide  myself! 
I'll  get  out  of  this  before  he  gets  back 
with  that  gang,  if  I  drop  dead  in  my 
tracks!  " 

As  a  first  and  very  womanish  step  in  the 
execution  of  her  resolve  she  sat  down  on 
the  doorstep  and  cried.  Her  meager  frame 
shook  with  dry,  convulsive  sobs,  such  as 
are  born  of  worn-out  nerves,  aching  mus- 
cles, a  lonely  heart,  and  a  starved  soul. 

She  did  not  heed  approaching  footsteps, 
and  scarcely  started  when  a  neighbor 
paused  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  and  spoke 
to  her. 

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270 


SAIRY  SPENCER'S  REVOLT. 


"  Why,  Mis'  Spencer,  what's  the  matter  ? 
I  hope  nothin's  gone  wrong  ?  " 

Mrs.  Spencer's  sobs  ceased,  and  her  face 
hardened,  as  she  met  the  woman's  inquir- 
ing eyes. 

41  It  ain't  nothin'  that  I  want  to  talk 
about,  Mis'  Howard.  I've  about  got  to 
the  end  of  my  rope,  that's  all.  I'm  tired 
of  livin',  and  wish  to  heaven  I  was  dead 
this  minute." 

Mrs.  Howard  held  up  her  hands. 

41  Don't  say  that,  Mis'  Spencer,"  she 
remonstrated.  "  Now,  I  don't  know  what's 
gone  wrong,  and  I  hain't  the  least  notion 
of  tryin'  to  find  out;  I  only  beg  of  you 
not  to  wish  you  was  dead.  It's  such  a 
fearful  wish.  We  don't  any  of  us  know 
what  death  is." 

"We  all  know  it's  rest,  and  that's  all 
I  care  to  know,"  said  Mrs.  Spencer.  She 
leaned  her  chin  on  her  hands,  her  elbows 
on  her  knees,  and  gazed  into  vacancy  with 
red-rimmed,  unlovely  eyes. 

11  No,  we  don't  even  know  that,"  said 
Mrs.  Howard,  with  impressive  earnest- 
ness. "That's  just  one  of  the  things 
we've  been  taught,  and  we  like  to  think 
it's  so.  We  don't  know  the  first  thing 
about  death,  Mis'  Spencer,  except  that  it 
turns  us  cold  and  stiff  and  fits  us  for  the 
grave.  We  don't  any  of  us  know  what 
goes  with  the  livin',  thinkin',  sufferin'  part 
of  us.  Sometimes  I  think  maybe  it  stays 
with  us  in  the  grave,  so  that  we  hear  and 
know  things,  same  as  when  we  was  livin'. 
I  shouldn't  wonder  if  we  could  lay  in  our 
graves  and  hear  the  birds  singin',  and  the 
rain  fallin',  and  feel  the  sun  shinin'  above 
us.  Now,  s'posin*  you  was  in  your  grave, 
out  there  in  the  little  buryin'  ground  in 
the  medder,  and  s'posin'  you  could  hear 
these  little  chicks  chipin'  to  be  fed  at  sun- 
down, and  you  not  here  to  feed  'em;  and 
the  cows  comin'  up  the  lane  to  be  milked, 
and  you  not  here  to  milk  'em;  and  your 
husband  trudgin'  home,  slow  and  tired  and 
hungry,  and  you  not  here  to  get  supper 
for  him.  Do  you  reckon  you  could  rest 
then,  Mis'  Spencer  ? 

"And  s'posin'  that  after  a  bit  you'd 
hear  some  other  woman's  voice  a-callin' 
the  chickens,  and  some  other  woman's 
hands  rattlin'  the  stove-lids  around  a- 
startin'  a  fire  to  cook  supper  for  your  hus- 
band. You'd  most  likely  want  to  get  up 
out  of  your  grave  then,  but  you  couldn't. 
You'd  just  have  to  lay  there  and  hear 
things  goin'  on  without  you,  day  in  and 
day  out,  year  in  and  year  out,  and  watch 
yourself  goin'  to  pieces  inch  by  inch  and 
crumblin'   to  dust.      There   wouldn't    be 


much  rest  about  that,  Mis'  Spencer,  would 
there,  now  ? " 

Mrs.  Spencer  arose  with  the  slow  pain- 
fulness  of  stiffened  rheumatic  joints,  and 
turned  a  shocked,  resentful  face  upon  her 
visitor. 

"Mis'  Howard,"  she  said,  sternly,  "if 
I  found  a  fellow  mortal  in  trouble,  and 
couldn't  think  of  a  single  comfortin' 
thing  to  say  to  her,  I'd  go  away  and  leave 
her  alone;  I  wouldn't  try  to  knock  out  the 
last  prop  from  under  her.  If  a  body  can't 
b'lieve  in  the  rest  that's  in  the  grave,  I'd 
like  to  know  what  we  can  b'lieve  in!  I 
never  heard  such  scand'lous  doctrine  since 
I  was  born!  " 

She  turned  abruptly  and  went  into  the 
house,  closing  the  door  between  herself  and 
her  unorthodox  neighbor,  and  listened  until 
the  sound  of  receding  footsteps  died  away. 

"  There,  I  hope  she's  gone,  with  her 
croakin'.  I  was  that  afeard  that  she'd 
hang  around  and  hinder  me  too  long. 
Land,  four  o'clock  a-ready!  " — as  a  time- 
piece in  an  inner  room  gave  four  hard, 
metallic  strokes.  She  hurried  into  the 
bedroom  and  came  out  rolling  a  pair  of 
heavy  gray  blankets  into  an  uncouth  bun- 
dle. Then  she  took  a  bottle  from  a  shelf 
in  the  pantry  and  filled  it  with  rich,  sweet 
milk.  As  she  put  the  cork  in  she  sud- 
denly stopped  and  listened,  then  opened 
the  door  a  little  way  and  listened  again, 
intently. 

"Wheels!"  she  ejaculated.  "Now,  if 
it  should  be  them,  goodness  help  me  to 
get  into  the  cornfield  before  they  come  in 
sight!" 

She  caught  up  the  blankets,  and  snatched 
a  raspberry  pie,  in  its  tin  plate,  from  the 
table.  Thus  equipped  for  flight,  she  opened 
the  door  and  went  hurriedly  out.  At  the 
foot  of  the  steps  the  brood  of  little  chick- 
ens met  her  in  full  force,  fluttering  around 
her  feet  and  impeding  her  progress. 

"Shoo!     Shoo!" 

She  pushed  them  aside  with  one  foot, 
and  waved  the  pie  at  them  frantically;  but 
they  followed  close  at  her  skirts,  with  dis- 
mal chirps  that  went  to  her  heart. 

"  Poor  little  things,  how  well  they  know 
it's  their  supper-time.  If  I'd  only  had 
time  to  feed  'em.  Like  as  not  nobody 
else  '11  do  it." 

She  hesitated  and  looked  back  at  them, 
pityingly.  But  the  rattle  of  wheels  sounded 
closer  now,  and  her  heart  hardened.  She 
went  on  again,  striving  to  redouble  her 
speed;  but  the  blankets  were  cumbersome, 
and  the  raspberry  pie  was  shedding  its 
sticky  juice  up  her  sleeve. 


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H 
»ng, 
minj 
chee 

the  cornfield  and  stumbled  in 
between  the  tall,  green  rows. 
She  dropped  the  blankets  and  almost  fell 
upon  them  in  her  exhaustion.  The  bottle 
and  pie  were  allowed  to  shift  for  them- 
selves, and  the  latter  poured  out  the  last 
remnant  of  its  crimson  juice  at  the  roots 
of  a  cornhill. 

Presently  Mrs.  Spencer  sat  up  and  lis- 
tened again.  She  could  no  longer  hear 
the  sound  of  wheels,  nor  any  sound  save 


WHY,    MIS'    SPENCER,    WHAT'S   THE    MATTER?" 

the  rustling  of  the  millions  of  corn-blades 
in  the  great  field  about  her,  and  the  voice 
of  a  meadow  lark  singing  from  the  top  of 
a  tall,  charred  stump  near  by.  She  sat 
still  and  rested  a  little  while  longer;  then 
she  stood  up  and  tried  to  see  the  house; 
but  the  tasseled  tops  of  the  corn  were  two 
feet  above  her  head.  She  made  her  way 
cautiously  to  the  outer  row,  and  peered  out 


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SAIRY  SPENCER'S  REVOLT. 


between  the  stalks;  but  the  low  sun  beat 
straight  into  her  eyes,  and  the  higher 
ground  of  the  meadow,  full  of  hay-cocks, 
intervened.  She  could  see  only  the 
weather-worn  roofs  of  the  house  and 
barn.  She  crept  back  and  took  up  again 
her  burden  of  blankets  and  bottle  and 
pie,  and  trudged  on  deeper  into  the  shel- 
tering labyrinth  of  corn.  When  she  had 
put  half  the  width  of  the  field  between 
herself  and  the  house  she  felt  safe  for  the 
time  being,  and  sat  down  again  to  rest  and 
bide  her  time. 

Her  objective  point  was  an  old  dugout 
in  the  face  of  a  stony  ridge  just  beyond 
the  cornfield.  It  had  been  constructed  for 
a  potato  cellar,  and  was  used  only  for  stor- 
ing those  edible  tubers  in  winter.  From 
March  to  November  it  was  empty  and 
forgotten,  given  over  to  rats  and  spiders. 
She  had  chosen  it  for  her  refuge  over  all 
other  nooks  and  crannies  on  the  farm  be- 
cause of  its  isolation.  No  roving  member 
of  the  objectionable  "gang"  would  be 
likely  to  stumble  upon  it  and  discover 
her.  But  it  was  well  up  the  face  of  the 
ridge  and  visible  from  the  house,  so  she 
did  not  think  it  best  to  risk  discovery  by 
approaching  it  in  open  day. 

She  partly  unrolled  the  blankets  and  lay 
down  upon  them,  turning  her  worn  face  up 
to  the  sky,  with  a  deep-drawn  breath  of 
rest  and  a  delicious  new  sense  of  freedom. 
Her  close  environment  of  tall  corn  shut 
out  the  horizon,  but  she  knew  when  the 
sun  had  sunk  below  it  by  the  tinted  glow 
that  overspread  her  small  vista  of  sky, 
und  the  fresher  breeze  that  came  whisper- 
ing among  the  corn-blades,  precursor  of 
the  coming  night. 

After  a  time  dark  shadows  began  creep- 
ing along  the  furrows,  as  if  striving  to 
steal  upon  her  unawares,  and  in  the  pur- 
pling firmament  above  two  or  three  pale 
stars  took  form  and  blinked  coldly  down 
at  her.  She  sat  up  and  shivered,  and  her 
heart  sank  a  little  at  thought  of  the  potato 
cellar  and  the  lonely  night. 

"Dew's  a-fallin'!"  she  exclaimed  in 
dismay,  with  care  for  her  rheumatism;  and 
as  quickly  as  might  be  she  gathered  up  her 
belongings  and  resumed  her  flight.  In 
the  fast-gathering  night  the  way  to  the 
potato  cellar  seemed  long  and  rough,  and 
when  she  had  reached  it  she  found  it  a 
stronghold  defended  by  wild  blackberry 
vines  that  she  must  tear  away  with  her 
naked  hands  before  she  could  gain  an  en- 
trance. 

The  clumsy  door  opened  outward,  and 
yielded  only  inch  by  inch  to  her  repeated 


jerks.  Each  time  a  blackberry  vine  was 
wrenched  out  by  the  roots,  it  brought  down 
a  shower  of  loosened  gravel  upon  her  de- 
fenseless head  from  the  crumbling  banks 
that  towered  high  on  either  side.  But  at 
last  a  dark  aperture  yawned  before  her 
wide  enough  to  give  her  entrance.  She 
wondered  why  she  had  not  foreseen  the 
need  of  a  candle  and  some  matches,  as  she 
groped  her  way  within  and  pulled  the  door 
shut.  As  she  did  so  there  came  a  great 
roar  and  crash  of  falling  gravel  outside. 
It  sounded  a  perfect  avalanche,  and  she 
congratulated  herself  on  having  escaped  it. 

The  atmosphere  of  the  little  cave-like 
place  was  close  and  musty  from  long  lack 
of  ventilation,  and  Mrs.  Spencer  found 
the  abrupt  change  from  the  pure  outer  air 
almost  stifling.  She  decided  that  she  must 
reopen  the  door  and  leave  it  so  through 
the  night.  But  when  she  attempted  to  do 
this,  she  found  the  door  immovable,  held 
shut  by  the  mass  of  gravel  that  had  fallen 
against  it.     The  discovery  left  her  aghast. 

"  Why,  now — if  I  can't  get  out,  and 
nobody  has  the  least  notion  where  I  am, 
why — it's  'most  like  bein'  buried  alive!  " 

The  situation  was  disheartening,  but  the 
direst  forebodings  must  yield  to  extreme 
bodily  weariness,  and  soon  she  had  spread 
her  blankets  on  the  dry  straw  of  a  potato 
bin  and  stretched  her  aching  frame  upon 
them. 

For  an  hour  or  more  her  mental  worry 
and  her  "  rheumatiz  "  united  in  tormenting 
her;  then  came  sleep,  and  wooed  her  to 
rest  with  the  welcome  thought  of  no 
breakfast  to  get  in  the  morning  and  no 
disturbing  voice  to  break  in  upon  her  slum- 
bers with  the  announcement  of  "  gettin'- 
up  time." 

But  she  dreamed,  and  all  through  her 
dream  sounded  the  chirping  of  hungry 
little  chickens,  the  lowing  of  unmilked 
cows,  and  the  slow,  heavy  tread  of  her 
husband's  feet  coming  up  the  lane  at 
evening  time.  "  Tired  and  hungry,  and 
you  not  here  to  get  supper  for  him," 
droned  the  reproachful  voice  of  her  neigh- 
bor, running  like  a  dirge  through  the  other 
sounds  and  making  of  the  dream  a 
wretched,  haunting  nightmare. 

"Drat  that  Mis'  Howard!  I'll  never 
speak  to  her  again,"  was  Mrs.  Spencer's 
first  waking  thought.  A  thin  shaft  of 
daylight,  with  the  yellow  glint  of  a  well- 
risen  sun  in  it,  was  forcing  its  way  into 
the  cellar  through  a  crevice  an  inch  wide 
above  the  door.  Involuntarily  Mrs.  Spen- 
cer sat  up  and  listened  for  the  familiar 
sounds  of  her  dream.     But  she  heard  only 


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the  bickering  of  a  pair  of  wrens  in  the  sprouts  and  a  winding-sheet  of  cobwebs, 
blackberry  vines  outside,  and  the  scurry  Near  the  center  of  the  earth  floor  stood  a 
of  a  rat  that  scampered  across  the  cellar  battered  old  sheet-iron  stove,  with  some 
floor  and  plunged  into  his  hole  in  a  corner,    rusty  joints  of   pipe     rising    shakily     to 

the  thatched  roof,  ten 
feet  above.  The  hired 
men  had  set  it  up  during 
the  cold  snap  in  March, 
and  built  a  Are  in  it  to 
keep  themselves  warm 
while  they  cut  potatoes 
for  seeding.  A  dozen 
matches  and  a  clay  pipe 
half  full  of  burnt  to- 
bacco lay  on  its  hearth, 
forgotten. 

Mrs.  Spencer  felt  a 
little  light-headed  when 
she  stood  up,  and  thus 
was  brought  to  remem- 
ber that  she  had  eaten 
nothing  since  noon  of 
the  preceding  day.  She 
looked  about  for  the  pie 
and  bottle  of  milk.  The 
latter  was  intact,  but  the 
former  had  vanished, 
leaving  only  its  tin  plate 
as  tangible  evidence  that 
it  had  existed.  Two 
little,  knowing,  exultant 
eyes  were  shining  up 
from  the  rathole  in  the 
corner.  Mrs.  Spencer 
looked  troubled. 

"Weil"—  a  long, 
quivering  breath — "I 
cert'nly  said  I  wished  I 
was  dead,  but  slow  star- 
vation is  a  little  more'n 
I  bargained  for." 

She  spoke  aloud  and 
shrunk  from  the  sound 
of  her  voice,  it  was  so 
shut-in  and  sepulchral. 
She  turned  to  the  door 
and  strove  now  with  all 
her  strength  to  push  it 
open,  but  it  withstood 
the  onslaught  without  a 
tremor. 

She  desisted  at  length, 
and  sat  down  on  an  up- 
turned    apple-box,     ex- 

44  SHE  TOOK     UP      .      .      .      HHK    BURDEN    OK     Itl.ANKETS     AND     LOTTIE     AND     IIK,     AND  haUSted    aild     gaSping    fOT 

TRUDGED   ON    DEEPER    INTO   THE   SHELTERING    LABYRINTH    OF  CORN."  breath  TllC      PlaCC    W3S 

stifling.    Oh  for  a  breath 

This  served  to  draw   her  attention  to  her    of  pure,   sweet  air!     Her  outraged  lungs 

surroundings.  seemed  burning   in    her   breast,    and   her 

In    an    opposite    bin    lay    some    sorry-    mouth    and     throat    were    parched.      She 

looking  potatoes,  with  long,  ghostly  white    opened  the  bottle  of  milk,  and  took  a  por- 


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and  watched  for  the  men  to  come  in  from 
their  work  in  the  far  north  meadow,  she 
descried  a  curl  of  smoke  rising  from  the 
kitchen  chimney,  a  queer,  ghastly  little 
caricature  of  a  smile  flashing  across  her 
face. 

44  Now,  if  I  was  near  enough  to  hear  the 
stove-lids  rattle,"  she  whispered,  4I I  could 
'most  imagine  I  was  dead  and  in  my  grave, 
like  Mis'  Howard  said." 

For  a  long  time  she  stood  with  her  eyes 
at  the  crevice  and  her  hands  grasping 
the  rough  frame  of  the  cellar  door,  watch- 
ing that  changing,  darkening  spiral  of 
smoke.  Once  the  kitchen  door  opened, 
and  a  woman  stood  for  an  instant  in  sight. 
The  watcher  squinted  her  eyes  in  a  desper- 
ate endeavor  to  concentrate  her  gaze. 

14 1  s'pose  it's  Mis'  Rhynearson,"  she 
muttered,  with  a  resentful  snap  in  her 
tone.  44  It's  just  like  her  to  take  pos- 
session of  a  body's  house  and  act  as  if 
she  owned  it!  I  can't  see  how  Abra'm 
can  like  them  Rhynearsons  so  well;  they're 
such  pestiferous  folks.  To  think  of  her 
there,  a-livin'  high  off  the  fresh  bread  and 
cakes  and  pies  that  I  baked,  and  the 
cheese  I  made,  and  the  butter  I  churned, 
and  me  here  a-starvin'!  " 

The  contrast  was  too  pitiful.  In  all  her 
hard,  meager  life  she  had  never  before 
known  the  pangs  of  hunger  and  thirst. 
Her  eyes  filled,  and  the  vision  was  for  a 
time  shut  out.  When  she  looked  again, 
the  curling  smoke  was  scarcely  discernible, 
and  all  the  angles  of  the  old  house  were 
toned  down  by  the  softening  shadow  of 
approaching  night. 

She  could  make  out  the  figure  of  a  man 
standing  by  the  bars.  It  might  be  one  of 
the  hands,  or — it  might  be — yes,  it  was 
Abra'm!  He  had  turned  and  was  going 
slowly  toward  the  house,  and  she  knew  him 
by  the  forward  stoop  of  his  body  and 
that  characteristic  something  in  the  way 
he  set  his  feet  down  as  he  walked. 

She  thought  he  would  go  in  at  the 
kitchen  door,  but  he  passed  around  to  the 
front  porch,  and  sat  down  alone  on  the 
steps. 

Presently  it  struck  her  that  his  head  was 
bowed  upon  his  hands  and  that  his  atti- 
tude was  one  of  deep  dejection.  But  she 
was  not  quite  sure;  he  was  so  far  away, 
and  the  shadows  lay  deep  between. 
Still,  the  longer  she  looked  the  more  his 
fading  outline  seemed  to  appeal  to  her, 
until  at  last  she  was  overcome  with  the 
conviction  that  sorrow,  rather  than  anger, 
ruled  in  her  husband's  heart. 

44  He  ain't  mad  at  me!     I  just  seem  to 


feel  he  ain't  mad  at  me!  Oh,  Abra'm! 
Abra'm!  " 

She  shrieked  his  name  aloud  again  and 
again,  each  frenzied  effort  shriller  than 
the  last;  but  the  narrow  crevice  threw  the 
greater  part  of  the  sound  back  into  the 
cellar,  and  Abraham  Spencer  sat  still,  with 
bent  head,  unhearing,  until  the  night  had 
thickened  and  shut  him  from  her  sight. 

The  black  hours  that  followed  were 
terrible  to  her.  Remorse  and  a  reawak- 
ened longing  to  live,  and  to  go  back  to 
her  deserted  duties,  now  united  with  hun- 
ger and  thirst  to  torture  her.  In  the 
middle  of  the  hot,  stifling  night  she  was 
forced  to  drain  the  last  swallow  of  milk 
from  the  bottle,  and  still  her  thirst  was  so 
great  that  she  tossed  and  moaned  in  the 
fitful  bits  of  sleep  that  came  to  her.  Once 
she  was  awakened  by  a  touch,  a  weight 
like  that  of  a  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and 
she  started  up  with  a  glad  cry  on  her  lips; 
but  it  was  only  her  cell-mate  the  rat.  He 
scampered  away  to  his  own  corner,  and  she 
lay  there  with  a  convulsive  horror  upon  her, 
watching  and  listening  lest  he  return.  She 
told  herself  that  he  would  come  back  to- 
morrow night,  when  she  would  have  less 
strength  to  frighten  him  away;  and  all 
the  nights  after,  when  her  poor  body 
might  lie  there  lifeless,  at  his  mercy. 

She  wondered,  with  an  awful,  shuddering 
wonder,  whether  it  could  be  that  her  soul 
must  linger  near  and  witness  the  degrad- 
ing annihilation  of  its  erstwhile  tenement. 
A  maddening  horror  of  death  seized  her. 
She  staggered  across  to  the  opposite  bin, 
and  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  eat  one 
of  the  raw,  moldy  potatoes. 

At  the  first  hint  of  morning  she  was 
again  on  the  apple-box,  with  her  eyes  at 
the  crevice.  But  now  there  was  a  thick 
white  fog  all  over  the  land,  and  no  vaguest 
outline  of  her  home  was  visible  to  her. 

The  wrens  were  bickering  spitefully 
over  their  nest,  not  an  arm's  length  away 
from  her  face. 

**  Oh,  hush!"  she  said  to  them,  pity- 
ingly, from  the  bitter  depths  of  her  own 
experience.  4I  You  poor,  blind  little 
things;  you  don't  know  how  short  life  is, 
after  all,  and  how  little  it  matters  if  things 
don't  go  just  to  suit  you."  The  small 
pair  were  struck  motionless  and  dumb  by 
the  mere  sound  of  her  voice,  and  forgot  to 
renew  their  quarrel.  Presently  the  father 
bird  went  away  to  his  day's  work,  and  the 
little  mother  settled  down  to  the  monot- 
ony of  her  home  duties,  both  unconscious 
of  the  yearning  eyes  of  the  lone  watcher 
at  the  crevice. 


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SAIRY  SPENCER'S  REVOLT. 


Many  times  that  day  she  crept  back  and 
forth  between  the  bin  and  the  apple-box. 
When  her  head  swam  and  her  trembling 
knees  gave  way  beneath  her,  she  would 
stagger  to  the  bin  and  fall  upon  the  blan- 
kets. But  no  sleep  came,  and  no  rest; 
and  after  a  time  her  strength  so  far  for- 
sook her  that  she  could  no  longer  mount 
upon  the  box.  Then  she  lay  still  and 
gazed  at  the  strip  of  light  above  the  door 
until  it  seemed  a  streak  of  fire  scorching 
her  eyeballs. 

And  all  the  time  she  was  listening,  lis- 
tening, for  the  sound  of  a  footstep  or  a 
voice. 

Thus  the  night  found  her,  and  again 
added  its  horror  of  darkness  and  rats. 
The  fever  of  hunger  and  thirst  was  upon 
her.  Her  tongue  and  lips  were  swollen, 
and  a  devouring  flame  burned  in  her  vitals. 
Her  senses  were  no  longer  normal,  and 
she  heard  sounds  and  saw  objects  that  had 
no  existence  in  reality. 

All  night  long  she  watched  the  dark 
corner  where  the  rat  dwelt,  and  her  dis- 
torted fancy  magnified  him  into  a  mon- 
ster of  the  jungle;  in  the  cunning  of  semi- 
delirium  she  made  plans  to  frighten  him 
and  keep  him  at  bay;  and  finally,  in  the 
dark  hour  before  dawn,  she  crept  stealthily 
from  the  bin,  whispering  through  her 
swelled  lips: 

"  Fire!     Fire  will  keep  him  away!  " 

She  clutched  an  armful  of  straw,  and 
crawled  on  hands  and  knees  across  the 
earthen  floor  to  the  sheet-iron  stove. 
Keeping  keen  watch  of  the  dread  corner, 
she  thrust  the  straw  into  the  stove  and 
groped  for  the  matches  on  its  hearth. 
A  scratch,  a  flash,  a  tiny  flame,  then  a 
roar ! 

She  dragged  herself  to  the  bin  and 
brought  more  straw,  and  more,  until  the 
thin  sheet  iron  of  the  stove  and  the  rickety 
pipe  clear  to  the  roof  were  red  and  roar- 
ing. The  already  hot  and  vitiated  atmos- 
phere of  the  cellar  was  now  raised  to 
an  unbearable  temperature,  and  soon  she 
succumbed  to  it,  falling  upon  the  ground, 
face  downward,  in  a  mad  effort  to  get 
away. 

No  longer  fed,  the  straw  fire  languished 
and  went  out;  but  its  mischief  was  done. 
The  dry  thatch  of  the  roof  had  caught 
from  the  red-hot  pipe  and  was  blazing  up, 
slowly  at  first,  but  ever  surely.  Soon  the 
cinders  began  to  fall  into  the  cellar,  and 
one  struck  her  bare  neck  as  she  lay.  She 
cried  out  with  the  pain,  and  struggled  a 
little  farther  away;  but  the  brands  fell 
faster  as  the  aperture    around   the   pipe 


broadened,  and  her  doom  would  have  been 
certain  had  there  not  been  another  restless 
heart  and  a  pair  of  sleepless  eyes  on  the 
old  farm. 

The  hired  men  were  awakened  by  the 
excited  voice  of  Abraham  Spencer  shout- 
ing: 

"Up,  boys,  up!  Bring  water!  The 
potato  cellar's  a-fire! " 

He  was  away,  with  two  great  pails  of 
water  in  his  hands,  before  the  men  were 
fairly  awake.  When  they  followed  him 
they  found  him  on  the  roof  of  the  cellar. 
He  had  succeeded  in  extinguishing  the 
fire,  and  as  they  approached,  he  suddenly 
dropped  his  pails  and,  falling  upon  his 
knees,  crept  close  to  the  charred  edge  of 
the  chasm  in  the  roof.  Leaning  far  over, 
he  shaded  his  eyes  and  peered  keenly  into 
the  steaming  depths  below.  A  faint  moan 
had  reached  him,  and  now,  as  he  listened, 
another  came  quivering  up  to  him. 

"My  God!"  he  cried,  springing  up. 
41  She's  down  there,  boys!  Sairy!  Run 
for  shovels!     Oh,  run,  run!  " 

He  himself  ran  like  a  madman,  but  only 
a  little  way.  Then  he  turned  and  ran  as 
madly  back  to  the  cellar,  where  he  at- 
tacked the  fallen  gravel  with  his  hands,  and 
beat  and  tore  at  the  door  until  the  heavy 
boards,  all  stained  with  his  own  blood, 
were  rended  from  their  fastenings,  and  he 
had  leaped  into  the  cellar  and  caught  up 
the  prostrate  figure  he  found  there. 

It  was  hours  afterward  that  Mrs.  Spen- 
cer aroused  from  the  stupor  that  was  upon 
her  and  began  to  comprehend  again  the 
realities  of  life.  She  was  in  her  own  clean, 
soft  bed,  and  the  cool  breeze  of  evening 
was  fluttering  the  hop  vines  at  the  window. 
She  felt  pain  when  she  attempted  to  move, 
and  there  were  bandages  on  her  hands,  her 
head,  and  her  neck;  but  the  pain  was  not 
acute,  and  the  soothing  effect  of  an  opiate 
still  lingered  with  her.  Somewhere  in  the 
outer  distance  she  heard  the  faint,  familiar 
tinkle  of  a  cow  bell,  and — yes,  the  sub- 
dued rattle  of  stove-lids  in  the  kitchen. 
She  lifted  her  head  from  the  pillow  to  lis- 
ten, and  found  her  husband  sitting  silent 
close  beside  her. 

"What  is  it,  Sairy?  What  do  you 
want  ? "  he  asked ;  and  she  felt  the  strange 
tenderness  that  vibrated  in  his  rough 
voice. 

"  Who's  in  the  kitchen,  Abra'm  ?  Is  it 
— Mis' Rhynearson  ?  "    . 

"  No,  Sairy,  it  ain't.  Mis'  Rhynearson 
went  home  double  quick  when  she  found 
there  wasn't  anybody  here  to  wait  on  her. 
You  knowed  her  better  than  I  did,  Sairy. 


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THE  MIRROR.  277 

That's  Sophrony  Selwood  in  the  kitchen,  bors  and  hunted  the  whole  place  over,  but 

and  she's  goin'  to  stay  there  till  she  dies  none  of  us  ever  thought  of  the   dugout: 

— or  gets  married."  I  don't  know  why,  but  we  didn't.      Then 

She  closed  her  eyes  to  hide  the  starting  that   night  Mis'  Howard  come  over  and 

tears,  but  they  forced  their  way  through  told  me — well,  what  you  said  to  her,  you 

the  interlaced  lashes.    Suddenly  she  turned  know,   Sairy,  and  she — she  spoke  of   the 

to  him  and  spoke  the  thought  that  filled  crick." 

her  heart.  "  The  crick?  "  wonderingly. 

"Oh,   Abra'm,  it   was   so    long!     Why  "  You  know,  Sairy !  " — he  suddenly  bent 

didn't  you  try  to  find  me  ?     Why  didn't  over  and  put  his  arms  around  her  and  drew 

you  come  sooner  ?  "  her  to  him — "I — was  goin'  to  have  the 

"  My  land,   Sairy,  I  never  once  thought  crick   dragged   to-day,  and   if   I'd   found 

of  the  dugout!     I  was  too  busy  lookin'  you  there,  Sairy — I  couldn't  ever 've  stood 

everywhere  else  for  you.     First  of  all,  I  it." 

drove  clear  over  to  Lizy'sto  see  if  you  "  Pshaw,  Abra'm,"  she  whispered,  chok- 
was  there.  That's  a  good  sixteen  miles,  ingly,  and  put  up  her  bandaged  hand  to 
you  know,  and  took  a  big  slice  out  of  the  stroke  the  furrowed  stubble  of  his  sun- 
first  day.     Then  we  went  to  all  the  neigh-  burned  face. 


THE    MIRROR. 

By  Margaret  F.  Mauro. 

My  mirror  tells  me  that  my  face  is  fair, 
And  can  I  doubt  but  that  it  tells  me  true? 

My  mirror  says  that  I  have  golden  hair, 
And  cheeks  like  the  wild  rose,  and  eyes  of  blue, 

I  say,  "Do  I  indeed  these  charms  possess, 

0  trusty  glass  ?  "  My  mirror  answers,  "Yes." 

When  lovers'  tales  this  heart  all  free  from  care 
Have  surfeited  with  flattery's  cloying  sweet, 

Unto  my  mirror  do  I  straight  repair, 
And  cry,  "  O  mirror,  is  this  ail  deceit  ? 

Say,  do  I  merit  praise  and  fond  caress?" 

Then  doth  my  trusty  mirror  answer,   "Yes." 

Deem  me  not  vain,  I  pray  ;  for  well  I  know 
That  when  life's  skies  have  lost  their  rosy  hue 

1  must  one  day  unto  my  mirror  go 

And  say,  "  0  tell  me,  mirror,  is  it  true 
That  every  day  my  youthful  charms  grow  less  ?  " 
Then  must  my  trusty  mirror  answer,  "  Yes." 

And  O  I  trust  that  in  that  later  day, 

The  time  of  silvered  hair  and  fading  sight, 

When  I  unto  my  looking-glass  shall  say, 
"  O  mirror,  with  my  beauty's  waning  light 

Doth  honor  also  fail  and  virtue  go?" 

Then  may  mine  ancient  mirror  answer,  "No." 

Editor's  Notb.— The  above  poem  was  written  about  a  year  ago,  when  the  author  was  but  thirteen  years  old,  and 
other  poems  of  hers  have  already  appeared  in  print.  She  is  described  by  a  member  of  her  family  as  **  a  normal,  unassum- 
ing child,  with  an  unusual  love  of  and  taste  for  literature ; "  one  who  '*  has  read  quite  extensively,  and  has  been  putting 
the  works  of  her  imagination  into  prose  and  verse  since  she  was  seven  years  of  age."  A  thing  of  special  interest  in  the 
poem  is  the  correspondence  it  shows,  in  sentiment,  form,  and  movement,  with  the  choice  lyrics  of  the  seventeenth 
century. 


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REMINISCENCES    OF    JOHN    BROWN. 


By  Daniel  B.  Hadley. 


IN  1842,  when  I  first  settled  at  Akron, 
Ohio,  I  became  acquainted  with  John 
Brown,  afterwards  called  "  Osawatomie  " 
Brown.  He  lived  one  mile  west  of  Akron, 
on  the  large  farm  of  Simon  Perkins,  Jr. 
They  farmed  it  in  partnership.  Subse- 
quently Brown  went  to  Europe  for  the 
purpose  of  purchasing  finely  bred  cattle 
and  sheep.  He  purchased  in  England 
specimens  of  Durham  and  Devonshire 
cattle.  In  Spain  he  purchased  of  some 
Catholic  monks  some  fine  grades  of  me- 
rino sheep.  All  these  cattle  and  sheep  were 
shipped  to  the  United  States,  and  placed 
on  the  Perkins  farm.  As  the  years  went 
by,  the  cattle  and  sheep  increased  in  num- 
bers. It  was  the  pride  of  Brown  to  walk 
off  with  the  premiums  on  cattle  and  sheep 
at  the  annual  fairs  of  Summit  County, 
Ohio.  His  smooth,  red  Devonshire  oxen, 
with  their  beautiful  horns  tipped  with 
brass  knobs,  were  the  admiration  of  all. 
The  firm  of  Perkins  and  Brown  was  annu- 
ally awarded  the  premium  for  the  best 
and  finest  wool  by  the  American  Institute, 
New  York,  for  a  number  of  years.  In 
1852  Brown  missed  one  of  his  fat  merinos. 
He  set  a  watch,  and  in  a  few  days  he  found 
another  missing,  and  he  traced  it  to  the 
premises  of  a  neighbor  named  Ruggles. 
He  sent  word  to  Ruggles  that  his  merino 
sheep  cost  him  $300  a  head,  and  that  if 
Ruggles  could  not  purchase  mutton  for  his 
family,  he  (Brown)  had  some  Bakewell 
sheep  which  were  much  better  for  mutton 
than  the  merinos,  and  much  cheaper,  and 
if  Ruggles  would  come  to  his  farm  he 
would  make  him  a  present  of  a  Bakewell 
sheep  occasionally. 

Brown,  it  was  well  known  at  this  time, 
was  in  principle,  as  well  as  practice,  a  non- 
resistant.  He  believed  in  the  doctrine 
which  Christ  preached  on  the  Mount,  that 
if  one  is  hit  on  the  right  cheek,  he  should 
turn  the  other  also.  The  man  Ruggles 
knew  this  as  well  as  others,  and  it  proba- 
bly prompted  him  in  the  course  he  pursued. 
He  cut  a  stout  hickory  sapling,  and  one 
day,  when  he  spied  Brown  drive  out  to  the 
forest  for  a  load  of  wood,  stationed  himself 
at  the  point  where  Brown  would  emerge 
into  the  public  highway,  and  waited  till 
Brown  appeared.  Then  he  applied  the 
278 


hickory  sapling  across  Brown's  shoulders. 
Every  blow  drew  blood.  Brown  simply 
folded  his  arms  and  waited  for  the  thresh- 
ing to  end.  The  blood  ran  down  into  his 
boots;  between  twenty  and  thirty  lashes 
were  given.  When  the  punishment  was 
over,  Brown  quietly  drove  with  his  load  of 
wood  to  his  house,  unyoked  his  oxen  and 
turned  them  into  the  pasture,  and  then 
came  to  my  office  (I  was  a  justice  of  the 
peace)  to  obtain  a  warrant  for  Ruggles's 
arrest.  On  hearing  his  statement,  I  issued 
the  warrant  and  despatched  Constable  Jack 
Wright  to  serve  it.  Wright  soon  returned 
with  Ruggles  under  arrest. 

On  the  trial,  the  fact  came  out  in 
Brown's  testimony  that  he  made  no  resist- 
ance. The  law  would  have  permitted  a  fine 
of  $100,  but  in  my  decision  I  said  to 
Brown  that,  as  he  had  needlessly  received 
all  after  the  first  blow,  I  would  fine  the 
defendant  the  same  as  if  only  one  blow 
drawing  blood  had  been  struck;  so  I  as- 
sessed a  fine  of  twenty  dollars. 

Brown  replied  that  he  was  perfectly 
satisfied;  that  all  he  wanted  was  to  have 
the  law  enforced.  I  told  him  he  was  liv- 
ing under  the  laws  of  Ohio,  and,  as  a  mag- 
istrate, I  was  sworn  to  administer  the  Ohio 
laws  and  not  the  laws  laid  down  in  the 
Bible.  But  he  replied  that  he  should  obey 
the  laws  as  laid  down  by  Christ,  and  went 
his  way. 

Soon  after  this  he  went  to  live  at  East 
Elba,  in  the  northeast  portion  of  New 
York  State.  In  1854  the  Kansas- Nebraska 
Bill  passed  Congress.  During  the  fall  of 
1854  five  sons  of  Brown,  with  their  fami- 
lies, and  one  daughter,  with  her  husband 
and  family,  emigrated  to  Kansas  and  set- 
tled at  Osawatomie.  Two  of  the  sons 
drove  some  of  the  fine  cattle  and  sheep 
bred  by  their  father  across  Ohio,  Indiana, 
Illinois,  and  Missouri  to  Kansas.  In  the 
spring  of  1855  an  election  was  ordered  by 
the  Governor  of  Kansas  and  held  for  the 
election  of  members  of  the  legislature  and 
county  officers.  The  Border  Ruffians  came 
into  Kansas  from  Missouri,  took  posses- 
sion of  the  ballot  boxes  at  Osawatomie, 
and  voted  themselves  into  office,  although 
they  were  not  even  citizens  of  Kansas. 
Then  they  very  kindly  relieved  the  Browns 


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REMINISCENCES  OF  JOHN  BROWN. 


279 


from  the  trouble  of  feeding  and  caring 
for  their  cattle,  horses,  and  sheep,  by 
taking  every  hoof  over  to  their  homes  in 
Missouri. 

The  next  move  on  the  part  of  the  Bor- 
der Ruffian  members  of  the  legislature 
was  to  meet  at  the  capital  of  the  Territory 
of  Kansas,  organize,  and  then  adjourn  to 
Shawnee,  Missouri,  near  the  State  line  be- 
tween Missouri  and  Kansas,  and  two  miles 
from  Westport,  Missouri,  and  proceed  to 
make  laws  for  Kansas  Territory.  In  order 
to  shorten  their  labors,  they  took  a  vol- 
ume of  Missouri  statutes,  and  wherever 
the  word  Missouri  occurred,  pasted  over  it 
a  slip  of  paper  with  the  word  Kansas 
printed  thereon,  and  then  enacted  the 
whole  volume  as  the  statutes  of  Kansas. 
These  were  the  laws  which  the  Free-State 
settlers  named  the  "bogus  laws."  At 
first  the  Free-State  settlers  refused  to 
obey  them,  and  President  Pierce  ordered 
United  States  troops  into  the  Territory 
to  help  the  sheriffs  of  the  different  coun- 
ties enforce  them. 

Time  ran  along  to  the  month  of  August, 
1855.  Then  Brown's  children  at  Osa- 
watomie  wrote  a  letter  to  their  father,  who 
still  resided  at  East  Elba,  New  York,  in 
which  they  gave  a  history  of  the  treat- 
ment they  had  received  from  the  pro-slav- 
ery people  in  Missouri,  in  their  trips  up 
the  Missouri  River,  as  well  as  while  driv- 
ing into  the  State,  and  also  the  wrongs 
perpetrated  on  them  by  the  Border  Ruf- 
fians in  Kansas.  They  all,  the  twelve  of 
them,  signed  the  letter. 

At  that  time  I  was  still  a  resident  of 
Akron,  Ohio.  One  afternoon,  towards  the 
latter  part  of  August,  1855,  as  I  sat  at 
my  desk  busily  writing,  I  thought  I  half  saw 
the  office  door  gently  open  an  inch  or  two, 
and  I  looked  more  closely  to  see  what  the 
movement  meant.  The  door  slowly  opened 
a  little  wider,  and  the  body  of  a  man 
pushed  through.  Then  he  deliberately 
turned  about,  closed  the  door,  and  turned 
and  walked  towards  me.  Before  he 
reached  me  I  saw  he  was  John  Brown.  I 
greeted  him  and  asked  him  to  be  seated. 
He  replied  that  he  had  no  time  to  waste, 
that  he  had  just  come  to  Akron,  and,  know- 
ing me  rather  better  than  others  there,  had 
called  on  me  first.  He  had,  he  said,  a  let- 
ter from  his  children  in  Kansas,  and  he 
took  a  seat  and  read  the  letter.  He  said 
that  the  letter  had  put  him  in  an  awful 
frame  of  mind.  His  principle  was  non-re- 
sistance, but  his  feeling  and  desire  were  to 
go  to  Kansas  and  forcibly  defend  his  chil- 
dren.   After  first  reading  the  letter,  he  told 


me,  when  he  and  his  wife  had  finished  their 
supper,  he  took  down  his  Bible  and  read 
a  chapter  from  the  New  Testament.  Then 
they  knelt  in  prayer.  He  prayed  that  God 
would  give  him  light  as  to  what  course  he 
should  pursue.  But  he  got  no  light. 
Then  he  read  another  chapter,  and  his  wife 
prayed.  Yet  another  chapter  was  read, 
and  then  he  and  his  wife  prayed  alternately 
till  midnight.  Still  no  light  was  shed  on 
his  pathway,  nor  did  he  feel  any  relief. 
But  all  at  once,  about  midnight,  he  was  re- 
minded that  he  had  read  only  from  the 
New  Testament,  and  he  resolved  to  try  the 
Old  Testament.  In  the  first  chapter  he 
turned  to  he  read,  "And  the  Lord  said 
unto  Saul,  Go  out  and  slay  the  Philistines. ' ' 
He  then  saw  a  ray  of  light,  and  he  and  his 
wife  again  knelt  in  prayer.  While  he  was 
praying  this  time,  he  heard  the  voice  of 
the  Lord  in  the  upper  part  of  the  room 
they  were  in  saying,  "  John  Brown,  go  to 
Kansas  and  slay  the  Border  Ruffians!" 
This  brought  genuine  relief  to  his  troubled 
mind.  So  he  told  his  wife  they  would  go 
to  bed  and  obtain  some  sleep,  and  in  the 
morning  he  would  start  for  Kansas  in  obe- 
dience to  the  command  of  Almighty  God. 

The  next  morning  Brown  departed  from 
East  Elba,  and  went  first  to  Boston. 
There  he  called  on  Wendell  Phillips,  who 
helped  him  with  ten  dollars.  Next  he 
went  to  Madison  County,  New  York,  and 
called  on  Gerrit  Smith,  who  gave  him  fifty 
dollars.  Then  he  went  to  Hartford,  Con- 
necticut, and  made  a  contract  to  purchase 
revolvers  of  the  Colt  revolver  factory  at 
wholesale  prices.  Next  he  went  to  Spring- 
field, Massachusetts,  and  made  a  contract 
with  Sharp's  rifle  factory  to  purchase 
rifles  at  wholesale  prices.  Then  he  came 
to  Akron,  Ohio,  and  called  on  me. 

After  he  had  finished  reading  his  letter 
and  telling  his  story,  he  appealed  to  me  to 
help  him  raise  money  for  his  designs  in 
Kansas.  I  realized  that  if,  in  consequence 
of  my  servant  President  Pierce  refusing 
to  defend  the  Free-State  settlers  in  Kansas, 
I,  as  Uncle  Sam,  or  at  least  one  of  him, 
should  undertake  the  job  for  myself,  I 
might  have  to  bend  some  of  the  laws,  even 
if  they  did  not  actually  break.  So  I  cau- 
tioned Brown  to  go  out  and  speak  to  such 
persons  as  he  knew  to  be  trusty  and  re- 
quest them  to  meet  in  the  basement  of 
the  High  Street  school  building  at  dark 
that  night.  This  basement  could  be  en* 
tered  from  the  rear,  and  our  meeting  was 
not  likely  to  be  noticed.  I  also  notified 
such  persons  as  I  knew  to  be  reliable,  tell- 
ing them  that  John  Brown  was  in  town 
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REMINISCENCES  OF  JOHN  BROWN. 


and  would  read  a  letter  from  his  children 
in  Kansas. 

At  the  meeting  about  two  dozen  people 
put  in  an  appearance.  Brown  read  his 
letter,  and  stated  briefly  that  he  was  then 
on  his  way  to  Kansas  to  see  what  he  could 
do  toward  defending  his  children  and 
other  Free-State  settlers.  A  committee  of 
two  was  appointed  to  raise  money,  guns, 
ammunition,  and  tent  cloth  for  him.  The 
committee  consisted  of  myself  and  Mr. 
E.  C.  Sackett.  I  undertook  the  task  of 
raising  the  money,  and  Mr.  Sackett  that 
of  raising  the  other  things.  My  law  office 
was  made  the  depository  for  the  war  mate- 
rial. I  requested  Brown  to  be  at  my  office 
at  noon  the  day  after  the  meeting,  to  re- 
ceive the  collection.  Promptly  at  noon 
he  drove  up  with  a  horse  and  newly-cov- 
ered spring  wagon.  No  questions  were 
asked  either  by  Sackett  or  myself  as  to 
where  he  obtained  these,  and  I  never 
knew.  We  brought  down  from  my  office 
the  contributions,  consisting  of  twenty- 
one  revolvers  and  twenty-six  rifles  and 
muskets,  and  placed  them  in  the  wagon. 
I  had  collected  just  $300,  which  I  handed 
to  Brown.  He  asked  that,  if  we  obtained 
any  more  contributions  for  him,  we  should 
ship  them  to  him  at  Rock  Island,  Illinois, 
whither  he  would  endeavor  to  go,  through 
Missouri  and  Iowa,  to  obtain  them.  Then 
he  shook  hands,  bade  us  good-by,  and 
drove  away.  I  never  saw  him  but  once 
thereafter,  and  that  was  in  the  winter  of 
1856-57,  at  Akron,  when  he  delivered  a 
lecture  in  a  public  hall. 

The  committee  made  further  efforts  to 
collect  war  material  for  Brown.  I  had 
learned  that  a  box  of  new  United  States 
rifles,  that  had  been  shipped  to  Akron  to 
equip  a  military  company  which  did  not 
succeed  in  organizing,  was  in  the  posses- 
sion of  Sheriff  Seward,  at  the  jail.  The 
committee  made  bold  to  call  on  the  sheriff 
and  request  him  to  deliver  the  rifles  to  us, 
to  be  shipped  to  John  Brown;  but  he  said 
that  he  had  that  day  received  an  order 
from  the  Governor  of  Ohio  to  ship  them 
to  Columbus  by  canal.  Remembering  the 
adage  that  "  all  is  fair  in  love  and  war," 
I  informed  him  that  the  committee  had 
that  morning  formed  a  copartnership  in 
the  draying  business,  and  would  like  the 
job  of  draying  the  box  of  rifles  to  the 
canal,  and  would  do  it  for  half  a  dollar. 
He  said  that  was  cheap  enough,  and  he 
would  willingly  pay  it.  He  directed  us  to 
be  at  his  stable  near  the  jail  at  three 
o'clock  that  afternoon,  and  he  would  have 
the  box  there  all  ready  for  shipment.     I 


gave  the  cue  to  Dick  Smetz,  a  drayman 
whom  I  could  trust,  to  be  at  the  stable 
promptly  at  three.  As  we  loaded  the  box 
on  the  dray,  I  said  to  Dick,  in  the  hearing 
of  the  sheriff,  "  Drive  it  to  the  Ohio  and 
Erie  canal,  and  ship  it  to  the  Governor  of 
Ohio  at  Columbus."  But  as  soon  as  we 
were  out  of  hearing  of  the  sheriff,  I  said, 
11  Drive  to  the  railroad  freight  depot  and 
leave  the  box  there."  He  obeyed  the 
latter  order.  I  had  the  clerk  in  the  freight 
office  mark  the  box  to  John  Brown,  Rock 
Island,  Illinois.  I  learned  that  he  received 
it  and  that  the  rifles  figured  in  later 
scenes. 

Soon  after  that,  the  committee  discov- 
ered a  twelve-pound  cannon  lying  about 
loose,  which  had  been  used  formerly  by 
the  Akron  Guards,  until  the  State  fur- 
nished them  with  a  better  piece.  This  arm 
was  "  gobbled, "  and,  with  the  gun  car- 
riage, shipped  to  the  same  destination. 
While  Brown  was  taking  the  cannon  across 
Iowa,  not  many  miles  from  the  Missouri 
State  line,  he  heard  that  the  Border  Ruf- 
fians were  after  him,  intending  to  capture 
the  cannon.  He  hastily  buried  it,  took  a 
description  of  the  spot,  and  drove  over  to 
Nebraska  with  the  carriage,  which  he  left 
at  Nebraska  City.  Some  time  after  that 
the  gun  was  exhumed  and  taken  to  Quin- 
daro,  in  Wyandotte  County,  Kansas;  when 
the  rebellion  opened,  it  figured  in  several 
battles  in  western  Missouri.  It  was  taken 
to  Lexington,  Missouri,  in  the  fall  of  i86r, 
by  Colonel  Vanhorn,  and  used  under  Mul- 
ligan in  his  defense  of  his  army  when  be- 
sieged by  Price.  It  was  surrendered  to 
Price  when  Mulligan  surrendered.  After- 
wards it  had  quite  a  history,  sometimes 
being  captured  by  the  Federals,  and  then 
again  by  the  Confederates. 

The  next  shipment  to  Brown  was  two 
boxes  containing  cavalry  swords  and  pis- 
tols. They  had  belonged  to  a  regiment 
of  cavalry  of  which  Lucius  V.  Bierce  was 
colonel.  As  I  was  paymaster  in  the  regi- 
ment and  had  been  a  law  student  of 
Bierce,  I  knew  these  weapons  were  stored 
in  a  room  above  Bierce's  law  office.  The 
committee  had  no  trouble  in  obtaining 
possession  of  them,  as  Bierce  was  in  full 
sympathy  with  Brown's  plans.  Brown  re- 
ceived them  in  good  shape,  and  they 
proved  serviceable. 

Early  in  1856  the  Border  Ruffians  under 
Sheriff  Jones,  acting  as  sheriff  of  Douglas 
County,  made  an  attack  on  the  Free-State 
people  at  Lawrence.  Jones  was  backed 
up  by  the  United  States  regulars  under 
Colonel  Sumner.      The   Free-State  men, 


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REMINISCENCES  OF  JOHN  BROWN 


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under  James  Lane,  Charles  Robinson,  S.  C. 
Pomeroy,  and  other  Free-State  leaders, 
fortified  themselves  on  Mount  Oread, 
where  now  stand  the  buildings  of  the 
Kansas  State  University. 

At  Osawatomie,  Brown  heard  of  the 
war,  and  calling  his  sons  together,  har- 
nessed a  horse  into  a  wagon,  loaded  the 
wagon  with  Sharp's  rifles,  Colt's  revolvers, 
and  other  weapons,  and  started  for  the 
scene  of  action.  All  went  well  until  he 
came  in  sight  of  the  Wakarusa  bridge, 
about  eight  miles  south  of  Lawrence. 
There  indications  appeared  that  his  pas- 
sage over  the  bridge  was  to  be  disputed. 
The  Ruffians  had  got  word  that  he  was 
coming,  and  sixty  mounted  men  had  come 
out  to  have  some  "  fun  "  with  him.  They 
formed  all  on  one  side' of  the  road  and 
awaited  his  approach,  confident  they 
would  have  no  trouble  in  capturing  a 
force  of  only  seven  men.  Brown  placed 
his  men  three  on  each  side  of  his  wagon. 
Each  man  wore  a  belt  in  which  were  a  half 
dozen  Colt's  revolvers  loaded.  Each  had 
a  revolver  in  one  hand  and  in  the  other  a 
Sharp's  rifle.  Brown  himself  had  twelve 
revolvers  in  his  belt  and  a  Sharp's  rifle 
in  one  hand.  He  gave  orders  not  to  fire 
until  the  enemy  had  fired,  and  then  to  fire 
as  speedily  as  possible,  make  a  breastwork 
of  the  horse  and  wagon,  empty  the  rifles, 
and  then  the  revolvers.  He  took  the  horse 
by  the  bit  and  walked  forward.  When  he 
came  to  the  first  Ruffian,  he  looked  him 
straight  in  the  eye  and  continued  to  do  so 
until  he  got  past;  he  served  the  next  in 
the  same  fashion,  and  the  next,  and  so  on, 
until  the  last  man  was  passed.  Not  a 
word  was  uttered  nor  a  shot  fired  by  either 
side.  Brown  kept  right  on  over  the  bridge, 
into  camp  at  Mount  Oread.  Here  he  coun- 
selled with  Lane, Robinson,  and  the  others. 
He  urged  that  the  true  course  to  pursue 
was  to  give  battle  to  the  Ruffians  under 
Jones  as  well  as  the  United  States  troops; 
but  the  others  were  against  him,  and 
no  battle  was  fought.  Soon  the  United 
States  troops  were  withdrawn,  and  Brown 
went     back     to    Osawatomie     with     his 

army. 

There  was  formed  that  year  at  Osa- 
watomie a  military  company  of  Free-State 
men  of  which  John  Brown,  Jr.,  was  cap- 
tain. The  company  was  about  to  be  dis- 
missed one  day,  after  having  been  on  pa- 
rade, when  old  John  Brown  stepped  out  in 
front  and  requested  all  who  were  willing 
to  go  with  him  that  night  to  wipe  out  five 
Ruffians  in  that  neighborhood  who  had 
warned  the  Browns,  on  penalty  of  death,  to 


leave  in  a  given  time,  to  step  out  five 
paces  in  front.  Ten  men  stepped  out. 
John  Brown,  Jr.,  opposed  the  movement; 
but  the  old  man  said  that  there  had  been 
Free-State  men  enough  slaughtered  in  Kan- 
sas and  he  was  not  going  to  stand  around 
waiting  to  be  added  to  those  already  so 
brutally  murdered,  and  that  the  certainty 
of  being  himself  killed  if  he  did  not  leave 
the  country  was  justification  enough  for 
wiping  out  the  Philistines.  The  ten  men 
proceeded  to  grind  sharp  each  a  cavalry 
saber  from  those  which  had  been  for- 
warded from  Akron;  and  before  morning 
five  Ruffians  paid  the  penalty  for  the  pre- 
vious butchery  of  fifty-four  Free-State 
men. 

Early  in  1859  Brown  started  from  Osa- 
watomie with  ten  men,  all  well  mounted, 
intending  to  leave  Kansas  and  go  to  Ne 
braska.  The  United  States  marshal  at 
Leavenworth  got  word  one  night  that 
Brown  was  camped  on  the  prairie  about 
twenty  miles  west  of  Leavenworth,  and  at 
once  started  to  capture  him,  taking  with 
him  a  posse  of  twenty  men.  Just  after 
daylight  next  morning,  as  Brown's  cook 
was  preparing  breakfast,  Brown  spied  the 
marshal  and  posse  approaching.  At  once 
he  commanded  his  men  to  stand  at  an  aim 
with  their  Sharp's  rifles.  When  the  mar- 
shal and  posse  were  near  enough  to  hear 
and  see,  Brown  commanded  "  Halt."  At 
once  they  halted.  Then  Brown  com- 
manded "  Dismount,"  and  they  dis- 
mounted. Then  Brown  ordered  three  of 
his  men  to  take  the  horses  of  the  marshal 
and  his  posse,  which  they  did.  Next 
Brown  commanded  "  Forward,  march  to 
camp,"  and  the  prisoners  marched  to 
camp.  Then  he  ordered  "Stack  arms," 
and  they  all  stacked  arms.  Brown  said 
that  he  always  invited  callers  who  came  at 
meal  time  to  join  him  in  the  meal ;  and  he 
invited  the  marshal  and  his  company  to 
take  breakfast,  which  they  at  once  con- 
sented to  do.  Brown  told  the  cook  to  pre- 
pare bacon,  coffee,  and  bread  for  twenty 
visitors,  which  he  did.  Brown  said  it  was 
customary  for  him  to  have  prayers  be- 
fore breakfast,  and  he  and  all  his  men 
knelt  down  in  the  prairie  grass,  and  Brown 
began  to  pray.  A  young  man  named 
Boggs,  who  was  one  of  the  posse,  gave 
me  these  facts  in  1859.  He  said  that  as 
Brown  knelt  there  in  the  prairie  grass,  the 
scene  seemed  to  him  so  comical  that  he 
plucked  a  stalk  of  grass  and  tickled 
Brown's  nose.  Brown  opened  his  eyes; 
but  without  break  or  pause  he  spoke  on 
in  the  same  monotonous  tone  as  before 


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ACCORD  IN %    TO  SOLOMON. 


and  seemed  to  be  continuing  his  prayer. 
His  words,  however,  as  Boggs  remem- 
bered them,  were  these:  "Young  man, 
if  you  do  that  again,  I  will  put  you  where 
the  mosquitoes  will  never  sting  you  any 
more :  oh,  Lord,  have  mercy  on  these 
Border  Ruffians  who  are  persecuting  the 
chosen  of  the  Lord." 

Boggs  said  that  when  Brown  opened  his 
eyes,  looked  at  him,  and  said,  "Young 
man,"  holding,  as  he  did,  a  revolver  in 
one  hand  and  a  rifle  in  the  other,  he 
(Boggs)  felt  the  hair  on  the  top  of  his  head 
suddenly  rise  up,  and  a  shudder  passed 
quickly  from  the  roots  of  his  hair  to  his 
toe  nails;  and  he  had  not  the  slightest 
doubt  but  that  it  would  be  an  unhealthy 
proceeding  to  tickle  the  nose  of  the  chosen 
of  the  Lord  again. 

After  breakfast  Brown  told  the  marshal 
that  he  and  his  posse  looked  strong  enough 
to  walk  back  to  Leavenworth,  and  that  he 
would  take  their  horses  and  arms  with  him 
on  his  trip  to  the  East,  as  he  had  need  of 
both.  He  claimed  that  they  were  lawfully 
captured  in  time  of  war  and  he  had  a  right 
to  keep  them. 

Brown  never  returned  to  Kansas.      He 


passed  on  through  Nebraska  and  Iowa, 
sold  his  horses  somewhere  in  the  East,  and 
then  prepared  for  his  raid  into  Virginia,  at 
Harper's  Ferry,  for  the  purpose  of  liber- 
ating the  slaves  of  the  Southern  States. 
As  that  is  a  matter  of  familiar  history,  I 
will  not  recount  it  here.  It  is  well  known 
that  his  attempt  to  free  the  slaves  was  a 
failure;  that  he  was  captured  at  Harper's 
Ferry,  standing  with  his  finger  on  the 
pulse  of  one  of  his  sons  who  was  then  in 
the  last  agonies  of  death  from  wounds  re- 
ceived in  the  battle,  while  in  the  other  he 
held  a  Sharp's  rifle. 

Some  have  contended  that  John  Brown 
was  insane.  From  what  I  knew  of  him, 
my  opinion  is  that  he  was  not  insane,  but 
that  he  misjudged  as  to  the  slaves  coming 
to  his  standard,  and,  again,  as  to  the  po- 
tency of  pikes  against  fire-arms.  His  zeal 
outran  his  judgment.  But  when  he  saw 
that  his  fate  was  the  gallows,  he  also  saw 
that  his  death  was  the  entering  wedge  to 
freeing  the  slaves.  He  was  too  brave 
to  whimper  at  his  fate,  but  stood  up  to 
it  like  a  hero.  He  was  instrumental  in 
freeing  the  slaves;  but  in  a  different 
way  from  that  which  he  had  planned. 


ACCORDIN'    TO    SOLOMON. 


By  Mary  M.  Mears, 


Author  of  **  The  Marrying  of  Esther/*  and  other  Stories. 


HOLD  still,  Teddie!  How  d'  y' 
s'pose  I  can  dress  you  when  you 
wiggle  so  ?  "  The  old  woman  knelt  before 
the  child,  one  chubby  ankle  in  her  hand. 
She  was  buttoning  his  shoe.  Above  her 
bent  gray  head  his  face  showed  as  fresh 
as  a  rose,  and  his  hair  was  carefully  curled. 
He  reached  over  and  dabbled  his  hand  in 
a  basin  of  water. 

"  Is  I  doin'  on  a  boat,  drandma  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer  at  once,  and  when 
she  did,  it  was  in  a  tense  voice. 

"  No,  you're  goin'  on  the  cars  with  your 
father  and  your — your  new  mother,"  she 
added,  bravely. 

"On  d'  steam  cars?"  he  interrupted, 
bobbing  up  and  down. 

"Yes;  and  grandma  wants  you  to  re- 
member what  she's  told  you.  You  will  be 
a  good  boy,  won't  you — and  you  won't 
forgit  grandpa  and  grandma  ?  "  The  face 
bent  above  the  shoe  worked  convulsively. 
He  leaned  down  and  tried  to  see  if  she 


was  crying.  "  Drandma,"  he  lisped, 
"Teddie  'on't  go  way." 

She  flung  her  arms  about  him.  "No, 
no,  he  must  go  with  papa."  She  rose 
stiffly  and  tied  on  his  hat.  Then  she  led 
him  out  of  the  bedroom,  and,  releasing  his 
hand,  gave  him  a  little  push. 

"He  don't  look  as  nice  as  I  would  like 
to  have  him,  but  his  other  white  dress  is 
tore.     I  packed  it,  though." 

John  Wood  turned.  He  was  standing 
beside  the  center-table,  pretending  to  look 
at  some  photographs.  His  wife,  a  hand- 
some young  woman,  was  poised  on  the 
edge  of  a  chair.  "  He's  all  right,"  he 
muttered,  and  extended  his  hand  to  the 
child.  He  did  not  look  at  Mrs.  Hopkins. 
"Come  here,  Teddie." 

But  the  boy  caught  at  his  grandmother's 
skirts.  "  I  do'  'ant  to  go,"  he  half  sobbed. 
Mrs.  Wood  adjusted  her  bonnet  strings. 

"  Come,  you  haven't  seen  papa  in  a 
long  time,"  repeated  John,  but  the  child 


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ACCORDIN*    TO  SOLOMON. 


283 


slipped  back  of  his  protector,  wrapping 
her  dress  around  him. 

"No!  no!  "  he  screamed. 

The  new  wife  pulled  out  her  watch. 
"  You'd  better  pick  him  right  up,  John," 
she  suggested.  The  old  woman  cast  a 
glance  at  her  ;  then  she  stooped  as  well  as 
she  could  and  unfastened  the  little  cling- 
ing fingers.  "  Didn't  he  tell  grandma  he'd 
be  a  good  boy,  and  don't  he  want  to  ride 
on  the  steam  cars  ?  "  she  cooed. 

Reluctantly  he  allowed  her  to  lead  him 
to  the  door,  when  his  father  would  have 
lifted  him.  "  Ain't  you  goin'  to  let  him 
say  good-by  to  his  grandpa?"  she  cried. 
"  You  and  her  go  'long  to  the  carriage, 
and  I'll  bring  him." 

And  John  Wood  followed  his  wife,  a 
flush  on  his  face.  The  very  pebbles  in  the 
path  brought  back  memories  of  other 
lighter  steps,  wandering  beside  his,  and 
when  he  reached  the  gate  he  could  not 
look  at  the  leaning  posts.  Shadowed  by 
the  decaying  cap  of  one,  two  names  were 
written — his  and  another's.  He  wondered 
if  the  rains  had  washed  away  the  traces 
of  those  paired  names. 

"Drand-ma!  drand-ma!**  The  heart- 
broken wail  sounded  above  the  roll  of 
wheels. 

The  old  woman  did  not  glance  at  her 
husband,  but  went  heavily  into  the  house. 
Theodore  Hopkins  sat  on  the  porch.  He 
was  partially  paralyzed,  and  his  face 
showed  pale  above  his  black  clothes.  His 
wife  saw  no  reason  why  he  should  not 
dress  well  as  long  as  he  did  no  work,  and 
in  his  broadcloth  coat  he  presented  a 
striking  contrast  to  her  in  her  clinging 
calicoes  and  ginghams.  Now  the  tears 
were  rolling  down  his  face.  He  put  up 
his  one  sound  arm  ajid  wiped  them  away. 

In  the  kitchen  she  sat  down  and  gazed 
straight  ahead  of  her.  Presently  the  re- 
straint she  had  placed  upon  herself  gave 
way.  "It's  jest  her/**  she  exclaimed. 
"  John  would  have  left  him  here  if  she 
hadn't  been  so  jealous.  Pretended  'bout 
the  work  bein'  too  hard  V  me.  I'm  sure 
/  ain't  complained.  Wa'n't  Jennie  my 
daughter,  and  ain't  it  likely  I'd  be  willin' 
to  do  for  her  child  ?  And  now  they've 
took  him  away."  She  put  her  head  down 
on  the  table,  and  stretched  her  arms  to- 
wards her  grandson's  half-emptied  bowl 
of  bread  and  milk.  "  He  won't  be  here 
to-night  to  go  in  his  little  bed,  and  he 
won't  be  here  to-morrow  mornin'.  I  can't 
wash  and  dress  him  no  more,  nor  comb 
his  curls — nor  nothin'.     Oh,  me!  " 

Supper  that  night   was  eaten   silently. 


The  boy's  high-chair  stood  against  the 
wall,  and  they  both  avoided  glancing  to- 
wards it.  At  last  the  old  man  broke  out: 
"  I  could  hear  him  when  they  reached  the 
corner.  He  was  callin'  you,  over  and 
over." 

"  I  guess  she  won't  take  much  comfort 
travelin'  with  .him,"  was  the  grim  re- 
sponse. 

Nevertheless,  when  the  dishes  were  put 
away  and  her  husband  had  opened  out  his 
newspaper,  she  could  only  sit  hopeless, 
thinking  of  the  impotent  grief  of  a  little 
child.  Presently  he  glanced  at  her.  It 
was  his  delight  to  roll  out  the  words  so- 
norously. "  You  ain't  payin'  attention," 
he  cried,  sharply,  "  and  you  always  said  it 
was  because  of  Teddie's  wantin'  suthin', 
and  now  you  ain't  got  any  excuse."  She 
really  had  a  better  one,  for  she  was  listen- 
ing to  her  grandson's  crying  over  a  space 
of  many  miles,  and  her  lonely  arms  were 
aching  to  reach  him;  but  she  bore  the  re- 
buke patiently,  though  the  next  day  she 
retaliated  by  putting  all  the  evidences  of 
the  child  out  of  sight  with  a  relentless 
hand  until  the  rooms  were  as  barren  as  if 
they  had  never  been  littered  with  spools 
and  clothes-pins  and  the  numerous  un- 
beautiful  articles  so  precious  to  a  baby. 
"You  were  forever  complainin'  of  stum- 
blin'  over  things;  you  won't  have  to  no 
more,"  she  declared.  But  after  a  little 
they  began  to  show  that  they  were  sorry 
for  each  other.  Like  two  leaning  old 
trees,  the  same  wind  that  swept  them 
apart  for  a  moment  but  the  more  closely 
intermingled  their  branches. 

Mr.  Hopkins,  appreciating  his  wife's 
loneliness,  did  not  go  out  on  the  porch  to 
sit,  and  Mrs.  Hopkins  slyly  restored  all 
the  little  possessions  to  their  accustomed 
places,  and  by  expending  more  care  than 
usual  on  her  husband's  toilet,  succeeded, 
in  a  measure,  in  making  the  old  gray  head 
take  the  place  of  the  little  yellow  one. 
They  even  talked  of  the  possible  advan- 
tage this  change  from  the  country  to  the 
city  might  be  to  the  child. 

"  Chicago's  a  big  place,  and  he'll  have 
more  chance  livin'  there,"  volunteered  the 
grandfather. 

"  I  guess  most  any  town's  big  enough 
for  a  baby,"  returned  his  wife;  then  added, 
in  what  she  tried  to  make  a  hopeful  tone, 
"but  he's  dreadful  fond  of  lookin'  into 
store  winders,  and  there's  considerable 
many  more  shops  there  than  there  is 
here." 

Mrs.  Hopkins  had  never  been  to  Chi- 
cago. Her  husband,  however,  had  pur- 
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chased  goods  there.  Now  he  broke  into 
a  cackling  laugh.  "  Stores!  Well,  I  guess 
there  are  a  few  more  than ,  there  are  in 
Sheldon.  I  tell  you  the  boy's  eyes'll  stick 
out  when  he  sees  them  winders,  and  the 
horse-cars,  an'  omnibuses,  an'  people  hur- 
ryin'  through  the  streets  and  never  seemin' 
to  git  anywhere,  and  peddlers  and  hand- 
organ  men.  I  tell  you,  the  little  feller'll 
like  it." 

"Yes,  he'll  like  that  part,"  agreed  his 
wife.  "But  she  won't  let  him  take  any 
comfort  lookin',"  she  concluded  drearily; 
44  she'll  drag  him  right  along." 

44  Well,  she  won't  try  to  more'n  once," 
put  in  the  old  man.  "  Remember  that 
day  when  he  came  nigh  pullin'  over  that 
Indian  cigar  sign  ?  "  He  laughed  again, 
but  his  wife  sat  very  still.  A  red*  spot 
grew  on  either  soft  withered  cheek. 

44  Do  you  know  what  she'll  do  to  him  if 
he  acts  like  that  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  She'll 
spank  him." 

They  continued  to  look  at  each  other. 
Then  Mr.  Hopkins  got  up  and  took  a  few 
halting  paces.  "  Oh,  I  guess  she  won't," 
he  said. 

44  Yes,  she  will.  She  ain't  one  to  have 
patience  with  him.  And,  oh,  I  can't 
stand  it,  no  way.  Jennie's  baby  !  "  Sud- 
denly Mrs.  Hopkins  covered  her  face. 
Since  the  announcement  of  her  son-in- 
law's  marriage,  a  keener  realization  of  her 
daughter's  death  had  come  to  her  than  on 
the  day  of  the  funeral.  Her  husband 
eyed  her  with  consternation. 

44  Why,  don't,  mother!  I  guess  she 
won't  do  anything  to  Teddie  but  what's 
for  his  good."     His  words  recalled  her. 

44  Spankin'  him  won't  do  any  good.  I 
ought  to  've  told  her." 

44  Yes,  you  ought  to  've."  He  let  him- 
self down  into  his  chair. 

44 1  suppose  I  could  write  to  her,"  she 
suggested,  44and  I  guess  I  will.  I'll  tell 
her  that  he  won't  be  drove,  that  he's  used 
to  havin'  sugar  in  his  bread  and  milk,  what 
stories  will  put  him  to  sleep  best,  and — 
some  other  things." 

For  a  time  they  waited  an  answer,  but 
as  the  weeks  passed  they  gave  up  expecting 
one.  Their  longing  for  the  boy  increased. 
One  afternoon,  when  he  had  been  gone  two 
months,  Mrs.  Hopkins  started  to  make 
some  calls,  but  she  returned  within  half  an 
hour.  Her  face  had  a  strange  look.  She 
untied  her  bonnet  fiercely  and  cast  it  from 
her  little  gray  head,  then  began  pulling 
off  her  gloves. 

44  Why,  ain't  you  had  a  pleasant  time  ?  " 
her  husband  demanded.     44  Seein'  folks  I 


thought  would  be  good  V  you."  Then 
he  fairly  jumped. 

44  Theodore  Hopkins,  air  ye  a  fool? 
'Tain't  folks  I  want  to  see— it's  jest  Ted- 
die."  She  extended  her  little  knotty 
hands.  *4  And  I'd  rather  be  drudgiri  f  him 
than  mincin'  'round  this  way,  like  an  old 
— ape.  When  that  little  Ray  boy  climbed 
into  my  lap,  it  all  come  over  me.  I  tell 
you,  I  can't  stand  it  no  longer,  nor  I  ain't 
a-goin'  to.  And  I'm  goin'  down  to  Chicago 
and  tell  John  so,  and  he's  got  to  let  me 
bring  Teddie  back." 

44 1  don't  see  what  excuse  you'll  offer." 

44  Excuse  enough.  I'll  tell  him  how 
lonesome  it  is  after  we've  had  the  baby 
ever  since  he  was  born,  and  I'll  tell  him 
how  pindlin*  you  be." 

44 1  dun  know  as  it's  that." 

44  Yes,  it  is  that,  too.  Fact  is,  it's  killin' 
us  both.  I'll  get  'em  to  let  me  bring  Ted- 
die back,  if  it  ain't  no  more'n  for  a  visit. 
There's  no  use  waitin*.  I'll  get  the  oldest 
Smith  girl  to  come  and  look  after  you,  and 
I'll  start  right  off." 

Mr.  Hopkins  was  almost  as  excited  as 
his  wife,  but  he  still  objected.  44  You 
don't  know  anything  about  Chicago.  You 
can't  go  there  alone." 

44  I'd  like  to  know  why  not.  I'll  write  to 
my  niece,  Minerva  Taylor,  and  she'll  have 
her  husband  meet  me;  then  the  next  day 
I'll  git  directed  over  to  John's.  I  guess 
I've  got  sense  enough  to  turn  the  right  cor- 
ners and  read  the  figgers  over  the  doors." 

44  'Tain't  as  simple  as  all  that,  you'd 
find.  It's  confushV.  If  it  wa'n't  for 
my  foot — I  dun  know  but  I  could " 

His  wife  interrupted  him.  44  Now  you 
jest  stop.  I  guess  Teddie' 11  be  as  much 
as  I  can  look  after  comin'  back,  without 
havin*  you  on  my  hands." 

And  three  days  later  she  went.  She 
was  seventy  years  old,  and  she  had  never 
been  thirty  miles  from  her  own  town;  but 
if  the  magnitude  of  her  undertaking  grew 
upon  her  as  the  time  of  departure  ap- 
proached, she  betrayed  nothing  of  the 
feeling  to  her  husband,  and  her  calmness 
somewhat  quieted  his  fears;  though  it  was 
a  very  anxious  face  that  peered  up  at  her 
as  she  took  her  seat  in  the  carriage  of  the 
neighbor  who  was  to  drive  her  to  the 
station.  *4  Now,  do  be  careful,  'Mandy," 
he  cautioned,  calling  her  by  name  as  if 
she  had  been  a  girl.  44  Don't  put  your 
head  out  of  the  car  winders,  wait  till  the 
train  has  stopped  movin'  before  you  git 
off,  and  in  Chicago,  if  you  git  turned 
around,  ask  a  policeman."  They  had 
kissed  each  other  solemnly  and  with  a  little 


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embarrassment,  and  now  he  merely  reached 
up  a  hand  to  her.     "  Good- by,"  he  said. 

She  scarcely  noticed  him,  she  was  so 
occupied  in  directing  the  neighbor  to  push 
the  satchel  far  enough  under  the  seat  and 
give  her  her  lunch  box  to  hold;  but  when 
the  man  had  taken  his  place  by  her  side, 
she  looked  back  at  her  husband.  "  You've 
no  occasion  to  worry  about  me,  father," 
she  said,  reverting  to  the  words  which  had 
apparently  escaped  her.  "  But  take  care 
of  yourself.  Don't  try  to  git  up  them 
steps  alone.  Now,  good-by.  I'll  be 
back,"  she  added,  "jest  as  soon  as  I  can 
git  back." 

Hiram  Taylor  met  her  at  the  depot. 
The  confusion,  the  noise,  the  smoke,  the 
brilliant  lines  of  light  winking  out  of  the 
darkness  were  to  her  as  the  distorted  vis- 
ions in  a  dream.  Her  eyes  were  strained 
wide  open  behind  her  spectacles,  and  she 
panted  so  that  she  could  not  answer  the 
few  remarks  that  he  addressed  to  her.  But 
when  they  left  the  car  her  fright  subsided, 
and  by  the  time  she  met  her  niece  she 
was  quite  herself.  The  ceaseless  beat  of 
traffic  kept  her  awake  until  near  morning; 
nevertheless  she  rose  at  the  usual  time. 
"  I  want  to  make  an  early  start  for  my 
son-in-law's,"  she  explained. 

"Why,  you  ain't  goin'  over  there  to- 
day, are  you,  Aunt  'Mandy?  Hi's  got 
tickets  for  the  museum,  and  is  goin'  to  git 
off  this  afternoon.  You  wait  until  to- 
morrow, and  I'll  go  with  you.  I  can't 
this  morning;  the  plumber's  coming." 

But  the  other  shook  her  head.  "  Thank 
you,  'Nerva,  but  I  guess  I  won't  wait.  I'll 
git  back  to  go  to  the  museum,  though, "  she 
added  conciliatingly,  "  V  I  never  see  one." 

Her  self-reliant  manner  deceived  the 
younger  woman,  and  after  breakfast  she 
accompanied  her  to  the  corner.  "Gra- 
cious knows,  I'm  scared  to  have  you  go 
this  way,"  she  declared,  "though  you 
don't  have  to  transfer  or  anything." 

And  the  trip  was,  indeed,  a  very  simple 
one.  She  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  the 
house.  She  toiled  up  the  stone  steps, 
quivering  with  excitement  and  triumph. 
"  There,  I  told  father  I'd  git  here  all  right. 
My,  won't  Teddie  be  glad  to  see  me." 

John  himself  opened  the  door.  "  Why, 
mother!  "  he  exclaimed.  She  was  so  as- 
sociated in  his  mind  with  a  certain  village 
home,  he  would  as  soon  have  thought  of 
one  of  the  shrubs  in  its  dooryard  pulling 
up  root  and  coming  to  the  city  as  her. 
"  How  do  you  do  ?"  he  said.  "Well!  Did 
you  come  alone  ?" 

"  Yes.    Father  was  awful  worried  to  have 


me,  but  I  come,  and  I — want  to  see  Teddie, 
John."     Her  voice  trembled  into  a  sob. 

He  gave  her  a  quick  look.  "Why,  of 
course." 

He  came  back  in  a  few  minutes,  fol- 
lowed by  his  wife.  The  old  woman  rose 
and  looked  past  them  eagerly.  "I'm  so 
sorry;  he  goes  to  kindergarten,  and  Rose 
has  just  packed  him  off;  but  he'll  be  home 
at  noon,"  he  added,  pitying  her  disap- 
pointment.    "  Where's  your  baggage  ?  " 

"It's  over  to  my  niece's.  I'm  staying 
there." 

"Why,  I  didn't  know  you  had  a  niece 
in  Chicago.  Well,  you'll  spend  the  day 
with  us,  anyway,"  he  said,  with  a  glance 
at  his  wife.  Her  face  was  not  inviting, 
but  the  old  lady  did  not  observe  it. 

"I'd  like  to,  real  well,  John,"  she  an- 
swered, "only  Minerva's  husband's  got 
tickets  for  the  museum  this  afternoon,  and 
I  promised  to  be  back."  She  looked 
smilingly  from  one  to  the  other.  She  was 
on  the  point  of  stating  her  errand,  but 
John,  saying  he  should  see  her  again,  put 
on  his  hat,  and  she  concluded  to  wait  for 
a  more  propitious  moment. 

For  a  time  Rose  stayed  with  her  per- 
functorily. The  methods  and  aims  pecu- 
liar to  a  kindergarten  were  outside  the 
pale  of  the  country  woman's  knowledge. 
"To  think  of  her  sendin'  Teddie  to  a 
school,'  she  reflected.  "  Of  course,  you 
ain't  expectin'  him  to  learn  much,"  she 
remarked,  finally,  "  he  ain't  four  years  old 
yet." 

"No;  it's  the  discipline.  In  a  kinder- 
garten one  child  helps  to  curb  another." 

The  grandmother  drew  a  hard  breath. 
"I  ain't  never  found  Teddie  needed  so 
much  curbin',"  she  said.  "Of  course,  I 
ain't  sayin'  he  ain't  spunky,  but  I  wouldn't 
give  a  cent  for  a  child  that  wasn't." 

They  did  not  get  on  very  well,  and 
when  Rose  went  to  attend  to  some  house- 
hold duties,  the  visitor  began  to  realize  it. 
"  I  declare,  I  ain't  very  smart;  but  I  won't 
say  anything  more,"  she  resolved.  Left 
to  herself  in  the  rather  pretentious  apart- 
ment, she  looked  about  her  sharply.  "  I 
wonder  where  the  photograph  album  is; 
I  bet  she's  took  Jennie's  picture  out  and 
put  hers  in  place  of  it."  Her  breathing 
became  labored.  It  was  nearly  three 
years  since  the  laying  away  of  the  daugh- 
ter, but  this  mother  was  none  the  less  jeal- 
ous for  her.  Indeed,  it  was  as  though  she 
had  gathered  up  the  threads  of  that  un- 
lived life  and  woven  them  with  her  own 
more  sober  ones.  Then  the  thought  that 
John  might  have  locked  the  album  away 
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ACCORDIN*   TO  SOLOMON. 


comforted  her.  "I  guess  he  ain't  for- 
got," she  whispered.  She  would  not  cry, 
but  sitting  in  this  home  of  her  daughter's 
successor,  she  struggled  with  her  loneli- 
ness— a  pathetic,  brave  old  figure. 

Long  before  it  was  time  for  the  child  to 
arrive,  she  began  to  watch  for  him.  She 
was  stationed  at  the  window  when  Mrs. 
Wood  appeared  and  asked  her  out  to 
lunch. 

44  Why,  ain't  you  goin'  to  wait  for  Ted- 
die  ? " 

44  No.  On  Friday  he  carries  his  lunch, 
and  the  exercises  are  a  little  longer.  Then 
I  thought  you  said  you  must  get  back  to 
your  friends  by  one." 

The  fear  grew  upon  her  that  she  would 
have  to  leave  without  seeing  him.  "  If  I 
only  hadn't  promised  'Nerva,"  she  la- 
mented; "but  Hiram'll  git  off,  and  I 
mustn't  disappoint  'em."  She  waited  as 
long  as  she  dared.  Rose  followed  her  to 
the  door,  full  of  polite  expressions  of  re- 
gret, but  in  the  vestibule  the  old  lady 
turned.  "  I  may  as  well  say  just  what  I 
come  for,"  she  burst  out;  "I  want  to 
take  Teddie  back  for  a  visit.  His  grand- 
father pines  for  him  so,"  she  added,  pa- 
thetically. 

Young  Mrs.  Wood  took  on  an  air  of 
stiff  reserve.  "  As  far  as  I  am  concerned, 
I  do  not  think  it  would  be  a  wise  plan," 
she  said;  "  but  I'll  speak  to  his  father,  and 
if  he  thinks  best,  he  can  bring  him  to  Shel- 
don." 

And  with  that  Mrs.  Hopkins  was  obliged 
to  be  content.  As  she  turned  away,  the 
full  meaning  of  the  other's  words  and 
manner  came  over  her. 

44  She  didn't  ask  me  to  come  again;  she 
don't  even  mean  I  shall  see  him."  Her 
disappointment  was  so  keen  she  could  not 
remember  how  she  came.  At  last  she  re- 
membered her  husband's  instructions,  and 
inquired  of  a  policeman. 

Minerva  Taylor  stepped  out  on  the 
landing  and  peered  over  the  railing. 
44  Come  right  up,  Aunt  'Mandy.  I've 
been  so  worried  about  you;  but  I'm  sorry 
if  you've  hurried,  for  Hi  can't  git  off." 

44  Can't  he  git  off  ?" 

44  No.     There's  extra  work." 

44  Then  I'm  goin'  back  to  my  son-in- 
law's."  The  weariness  had  disappeared 
from  Mrs.  Hopkins's  voice  and  manner. 
She  straightened  her  bonnet.  "I  ain't 
seen  Teddie  yet,  but  he'  11  be  home  by  now. ' ' 

And  buoyed  up  by  a  new  determina- 
tion, she  took  the  trip  again.  "She 
thought  she'd  got  rid  of  me,"  she  re- 
flected,   "but  I'm  goin'   to  stay  and  ask 


John  myself."  When  she  came  in  sight 
of  the  house,  Rose  was  stepping  into  a 
carriage.  Her  heart  gave  a  great  bound. 
The  servant  had  just  gone  in  with  a  rug 
and  had  carelessly  left  the  door  ajar. 
Mrs.  Hopkins  walked  in,  smilingly.  She 
was  about  to  call  attention  to  her  entrance 
when  the  sound  of  sobbing  reached  her. 
She  stood  a  moment,  listening,  then  peered 
fiercely  into  the  room  beyond;  but  there 
was  no  one  there,  and  with  sudden  wari- 
ness, she  began  to  climb  the  stair.  She 
had  reached  the  second  floor  when  the 
unsuspecting  maid  returned  and  closed 
the  door. 

The  wailing  ceased  in  a  piteous  holding 
of  the  breath,  then  became  more  convul- 
sive. Little  choked  words  sounded  through 
it.  There  was  a  key  in  the  door  whence 
the  sound  proceeded,  and  at  sight  of  it 
her  eyes  gave  forth  a  sudden  gleam. 
44  Teddie,"  she  whispered,  "  grandma's 
come!"  She  slipped  in  and  locked  the 
door.  At  first  she  did  not  see  him,  for  he 
lay  in  a  miserable  little  heap  half  under 
the  bed,  whence  he  had  crawled  in  the  ex- 
cess of  his  grief.  His  lips  were  quivering 
with  fright,  but  his  eyes  were  expectant 
through  the  tears.  He  stretched  out  his 
arms  towards  her.  Without  a  word  she 
gathered  him  up  and  sat  down  on  the  bed. 
44  Drandma,  nice  drandma!"  His  sobs 
merged  into  laughter.  He  clung  to  her 
and  pressed  his  little  red,  swollen  face 
against  her  withered  one,  and  strained  his 
little  form  closer.  The  two  swayed  to- 
gether. It  was  some  minutes  before  she 
became  calm  enough  to  question  him; 
then  she  learned  that  he  had  been  shut  up 
in  this  way  because  he  was  naughty.  She 
looked  him  over  carefully  :  though  there 
were  no  marks  of  violence  on  his  soft  little 
body,  he  had  grown  perceptibly  thinner; 
and  once,  when  he  heard  the  servant,  he 
started  pitifully.  It  was  not  a  tale  of 
cruelty  which  she  was  able  to  piece  to- 
gether from  his  confused  statements;  but 
she  was  his  grandmother,  and  the  knowl- 
edge that  he  had  been  neglected  and  left 
to  the  servants  and  treated  harshly  by 
them  was  sufficient  to  arouse  her  indigna- 
tion. She  sat  very  still,  with  him  hugged 
up  to  her.  Ever  since  he  had  been  taken 
from  her  she  had  been  dominated  by  one 
thought. 

44  There  ain't  no  other  woman  got  the 
right  to  him  I  have,"  she  repeated;  "for 
if  bein'  the  mother  of  a  child's  mother 
and  doin'  for  it  from  the  time  it  is  born 
ain't  the  next  thing  to  bein'  the  mother  of 
that  child,  I'd  like  to  know  what  is  ?     At 


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least  it  'mounts  to  more'n  just  marryin' 
the  father,"  she  concluded;  "  and  if  King 
Solomon  was  rulin'  nowadays,  I  guess  he 
wouldn't  take  long  decidin*  betwixt  us. 
He'd  know  how  extra  wives  are  apt  to 
treat  children  that  ain't  their  own." 

She  was  convinced  that  John  would  be 
influenced  by  Rose  and  that  an  appeal  to 
him  would  be  futile.  They  were  in  Ted- 
die's  bedroom,  and  presently  she  went 
into  the  closet  and  dragged  forth  the 
44  telescope  "  in  which  his  things  had  been 
packed  when  he  came. 

"Teddie's  goin'  wiz  drandma,"  he  ex- 
ulted, slipping  from  the  bed;  but  she 
caught  him  up  and  put  him  back  with  a 
peremptory  44  Hush!  You  must  be  still." 
And  thereafter  he  sat  without  moving, 
but  with  a  face  eloquent  as  an  angel's. 
She  selected  only  the  clothing  she  had 
made.  There  were  some  new  dresses,  but 
she  did  not  pack  these,  though  she  ex- 
amined them  critically,  twitching  at  them 
where  they  hung  on  the  hooks.  "  Bought 
ones,"  she  muttered,  scornfully;  "  look 
how  they're  made!  " 

She  worked  with  trembling  eagerness, 
but  the  packing  was  only  half  finished 
when  steps  sounded  on  the  stair.  Two 
servants  came  along  the  hall,  and  the  knob 
was  turned  softly. 

44  He's  cried  himself  to  sleep.  What  do 
you  say  to  leavin'  him  ?  " 

44  Guess  we'll  have  to  if  we  go;  she's 
taken  the  key." 

The  old  woman  was  keenly  alive  to  the 
advantages  of  the  situation,  and  when  a 
few  minutes  later  they  crept  stealthily 
forth,  chance  still  favored  them.  It  was 
an  unusually  warm  day  for  September, 
and  there  were  few  people  passing.  The 
shades  of  the  neighboring  houses  were 
down.  But  she  kept  tight  hold  of  her 
grandson's  hand,  as  though  she  feared  he 
would  be  taken  from  her.  She  was  filled 
with  a  piquant  sense  of  her  own  daring. 
Her  lips  curved  in  uncontrollable  smiles, 
even  while  she  darted  apprehensive  glances 
over  her  shoulder. 

44  Hurry,  darlin',"  she  urged.  With  the 
44  telescope"  bumping  between  them,  and 
uneven,  excited  steps,  the  two  fugitives 
reached  the  car.  She  kept  his  head  under 
her  shawl,  and  he  submitted,  only  putting 
up  a  hand  now  and  then  to  wipe  the  per- 
spiration from  his  round  pink  face.  His 
utter  confidence  in  her  was  touching,  they 
were  so  alike  in  their  helplessness.  Her 
bonnet  had  slipped  back,  her  thin  brown 
wrists  above  her  gloves  looked  like  the 
bones  of  a  bird,  and  the  gray  knot  of  her 


hair  was  loosened.  Fearing  to  arouse  sus- 
picion, she  chatted  with  the  passengers 
near  her,  and  stared  around  with  an  air  of 
being  at  her  ease;  but  in  spite  of  her  as- 
surance, she  was  just  a  little  palpitating 
old  woman,  with  her  nerves  strained  to  the 
highest  pitch  and  every  energy  bent  on 
the  accomplishment  of  one  object. 

The  tumult  of  the  streets  terrified  and 
tired  her,  but  not  even  when  she  reached 
her  niece's  did  she  allow  herself  to  rest. 
She  announced  her  intention  of  taking  the 
night  train  home.  4<  Father's  there  alone, 
and  I  guess  the  sooner  I'm  goin'  the 
better,"  she  added,  dryly.  The  train  left 
at  half-past  seven,  and  Hiram  took  them 
down  before  he  ate  his  supper.  There 
was  something  about  his  wife's  aunt  that 
aroused  his  sympathy.  "  Best  not  tease 
her,  'Nerva,"  he  said;  44  she's  got  her 
mind  made  up." 

The  two  walked  in  on  Mr.  Hopkins 
early  the  next  morning.  Stella  Smith  was 
just  helping  him  to  the  breakfast  table. 
He  swayed  a  little. 

"Why,  mother!  Teddie! "  he  cried. 
Then  he  sat  down  with  the  child  clasping 
his  neck.  "  We've  corned,  drandpa! 
Drandpa,  we've  corned!  " 

Mrs.  Hopkins  watched  them  a  moment, 
then  she  interfered.  "Come,  Teddie, 
you're  tirin*  grandpa.  How  %  father/"  she 
expostulated.  She  took  his  hand,  and 
held  it  until  his  shoulders  ceased  to  heave 
and  he  lifted  his  head. 

"'Mandy,"  he  said,  solemnly,  and  yet 
with  a  break  of  humor  in  his  quavering 
voice — 4<  'Mandy,  I've  always  give  you 
considerable  credit  f  knowin'  how  to  git 
your  way,  and  I  knew,  somehow,  that 
you'd  go  there  and  git  back  safe;  but  I 
didn't  expect  this.  How'd  you  ever  per- 
suade 'em  ?" 

His  wife  smiled.  Her  very  presence 
radiated  a  sense  of  triumph. 

44  There's  different  ways  of  persuadin*," 
she  answered,  with  sly  carelessness.  But 
he  still  persisted,  admiringly. 

14 1  don't  see  what  you  could  have  said 
to  'em,  that  they  let  you  bring  him."  -> 

44  Oh,  I  didn't  say  a  great  deal,"  she 
returned.  "  Let's  have  breakfast."  Her 
husband's  praise  of  her  and  her  knowledge 
of  how  she  had  outwitted  her  son-in-law's 
wife  added  a  certain  sprightliness  to  her 
manner,  for  as  yet  this  old  woman  did  not 
appreciate  what  she  had  done  in  carrying 
off  her  grandson. 

He  occupied  his  old  place  at  the  table, 
like   a   little   king.       Both    grandparents 


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288 


ACCORDIN*   TO  SOLOMON. 


waited  on  him,  and  he  stopped  every  now 
and  then  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  bread 
and  milk  to  hug  first  one  and  then  the 
other,  until  his  head  drooped  like  a  tired 
flower's  and  he  was  carried  off  and  placed 
in  his  own  little  crib.  Mrs.  Hopkins,  also, 
slept  the  greater  part  of  the  morning,  but 
when  she  awoke,  her  elation  had  van- 
ished. Her  husband,  however,  had  waited 
patiently  to  hear  the  particulars  of  the 
trip. 

"I  thought  John's  wife  would  bring  up 
all  sorts  of  objections,"  he  remarked, 
"  and  I  guess  she  did,  didn't  she  ?  " 

"  She  said  she  didn't  think  it  was  a  very 
good  plan." 

The  old  man  chuckled.  "  Course  she 
didn't.  But  John  knew  what  would  tickle 
the  little  feller.  How  long  they  goin'  to 
let  him  stay  ?" 

"  There  wa'n't  nuthin'  said;  but  I  guess 
if  John  had  thought  a  great  deal  of  Ted- 
die,  he  wouldn't  have  give  him  the  step- 
mother he  did,"  she  added,  bitterly. 

"  Oh,  you  hadn't  ought  to  blame  him 
that  way,  mother,"  remonstrated  her  hus- 
band. "  He  didn't  know  she'd  turn  out 
the  way  she  has.  I  tell  you  John's  had  it 
pretty  hard." 

Mrs.  Hopkins  knitted  vigorously,  but 
her  son-in-law's  face  would  come  between 
her  and  the  stocking.  It  was  not  a  par- 
ticularly happy  face  for  a  man  still  under 
thirty,  and  there  was  a  look  in  the  eyes 
which  had  not  been  there  during  her 
daughter's  lifetime — a  look  now  sharpened 
to  painful  anxiety.  Moreover,  he  was  the 
man  her  daughter  had  loved.  She  strug- 
gled with  the  memory. 

"And,  naturally,  he'd  like  to  keep  his 
own  boy,"  pursued  the  old  man,  "and  it 
was  real  kind  of  him  to  let  you  take  him." 

She  laid  down  her  work  with  a  sudden 
air  of  desperation.  "  Who  said  he  let  me 
take  him?  "  she  demanded.  "No  one 
let  me  take  him.     I  just  took  him." 

He  stared  at  her.  She  had  made  her 
confession  defiantly,  but  she  trembled 
under  his  slowly  comprehending  gaze. 
He  rose  and  stood  over  her.  "  You  mean 
to  say  that  you — brought — that — child — 
without — permission  ?  That  you  stole 
him?" 

"  It  wa'n't  stealin',"  she  flashed  back. 

He  waved  her  words  aside.  "Wo- 
man," he  cried,  with  terrible  emphasis, 
"  don't  ye  know  ye  can  be  arrested  for 
abduction  /" 

She  paled  a  little,  then  rose  valiantly  to 
her  own  defense.  "  Stop — stop  just 
where  you  are,  Theodore  Hopkins,"  she 


commanded.  "  I  know  what  I've  done, 
and  it  ain't  nuthin'  so  tumble.  I  took 
him,  but  I  had  a  right  to.  Accordiri  to 
Solomon  I  had  a  right  to!  " 

Her  husband  was  staggered.  "  Accord- 
in'  to  Solomon  ?"  he  repeated. 

"Yes,  that  king  in  the  Bible.  Ain't  I 
proved  that  I  care  more  for  the  child  than 
she  does,  and  ain't  he  really  my  own  flesh 
and  blood?" 

For  an  instant  she  triumphed  in  the  ap- 
parent justice  of  the  comparison;  then  her 
husband  would  have  spoken,  but  she 
silenced  him.  "  And  I  took  him  on  your 
account,  too,"  she  continued,  "and  I 
won't  listen  to  a  word.  The  only  person 
I  owe  any  explanation  to  is  John,  and  I'll 
telegraph  him,  V  he  may  worry." 

"Worry!"  exploded  her  husband. 
"  He's  probably  advertisin'  in  all  the 
papers  and  got  all  the  policemen  in  Chi- 
cago out  huntin'  f  him.  He's  probably 
most  crazy." 

And  the  situation  that  faced  John  Wood 
was  indeed  a  baffling  one.  For  lack  of 
any  other  clue,  it  finally  occurred  to  him 
that  the  disappearance  of  his  son  might 
in  some  way  be  connected  with  the  visit  of 
the  grandmother;  and  not  knowing  her 
niece's  address,  he  was  about  to  telegraph 
to  Sheldon,  when  a  message  arrived  from 
there.  The  next  day  a  letter  followed. 
It  was  an  utterly  pathetic  letter,  despite 
the  confession  it  made.  "  It  ain't  that  I 
think  your  wife  wasn't  doing  what  she 
thought  was  right  by  Teddie,"  she  wrote, 
"  but  not  being  her  own,  she  couldn't 
have  the  patience;  and  don't  you  sup- 
pose, John,  that  Jennie  would  rather  her 
own  mother  had  him?"  This  plea  was 
wiser  than  any  Scriptural  defense. 

They  had  not  long  to  wait  for  an  an- 
swer. In  a  brief  note  he  told  them  to 
keep  the  boy,  adding  a  few  loving  words 
about  the  dead  wife.  The  note  was  filled 
with  unconscious  sadness,  for  it  was  the 
man  who  had  wooed  their  daughter  that 
wrote.  Indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  she  must 
rise  out  of  the  past  in  response,  though 
perhaps  her  young  spirit  answered  through 
the  tears  of  her  old  parents. 

"  The  hull  house  always  seems  full  of 
her  at  this  time  of  night,"  muttered  the 
old  man;  "stealin'  out  to  meet  him. 
Seems 's  though  I  could  hear  her  now." 
But  it  was  only  Teddie,  sleepy  and  win- 
some, who  entered.  The  old  couple 
smiled  on  him  through  their  tears,  and 
there  was  that  beauty  in  their  worn  faces 
seen  in  a  troubled  sky  when  a  rainbow 
arches  through  it. 


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EDITORIAL    NOTES. 


CONTRIBUTIONS   AND  CONTRIBUTORS. 


There  is  but  one  policy  in  editing  McClure's 
M  agazine,  and  that  is  to  have  subjects  of  the  high- 
est interest  treated  by  the  people  who  are  most  com- 
petent to  handle  them,  whether  writers  or  artists. 
The  result  of  this  policy  is  shown  in  the  character  of 
the  contents  of  the  present  number  and  of  the  matter 
secured  for  the  coming  months. 

In  Mr.  Dana's  series  of  personal  reminiscences  we 
have  the  result  of  the  author's  intimate  association 
with  the  great  personages  of  the  war.  Dr.  Nansen, 
from  the  wealth  of  experience  gained  in  one  of  the 
most  extraordinary  achievements  in  the  history  of 
theVorld,  will  outline  the  future  of  Polar  explora- 
tion. General  Miles,  the  present  commander  of  the 
armies  of  the  United  States,  will  give  the  result  of 
his  observations  of  the  armies  and  commanders  of 
Europe,  under  the  most  favorable  auspices,  for  a  pe- 
riod of  several  months,  during  probably  the  most  in- 
teresting year  in  Europe  since  the  Franco- Prussian 
War.  Prince  Kropotkine,  the  eminent  socialist  and 
scientist,  drawing  from  vast  resources  and  personal 
knowledge,  will  write  about  the  Siberian  railway. 
Colonel  Waring,  who  for  nearly  twoscore  years  has 
been  a  high  authority  on  all  the  engineering  and 
sanitary  problems  connected  with  great  cities,  and 
who  is  especially  noted  for  his  wonderful  work  in 
New  York  City  m  the  past  two  or  three  years,  will 
forecast  the  city  of  the  future.  Young  Landor,  who 
undertook  a  most  daring  expedition  into  Thibet  and 
who  suffered  most  cruelly,  will  tell  in  the  magazine 
his  experiences  on  his  travels.  Anthony  Hope,  who 
is  now  in  this  country,  and  whose  heroine,  the  Prin- 


cess Flavia,  is  probably  the  most  adored  of  women, 
writes  the  further  adventures  and  love  of  Rudolf 
Rassendyll  and  the  Princess  Flavia,  and  introduces 
the  scenes  and  characters  of  his  famous  story,  "  The 
Prisoner  of  Zenda."  Rudyard  Kipling,  nearly  all 
of  whose  recent  work  has  appeared  in  McClure's, 
will  contribute  a  number  of  poems  and  stories  dur- 
ing the  year.  Stephen  Crane  will  be  represented 
both  by  an  article  of  unusual  interest  on  the  fastest 
train  and  by  a  story  drawn  from  his  experiences  in 
the  Southwest.  Mr.  Garland  will  appear  as  the  con- 
tributor of  a  series  of  remarkably  interesting  papers, 
one  of  which  gives  the  Indians'  story  of  the  Custer 
massacre.  Mr.  Charles  Dana  Gibson  is  going  to 
spend  this  winter  in  Egypt ;  the  result  of  his  obser- 
vations will  be  set  forth  by  his  pen  and  pencil  in 
McClure's  ;  besides,  he  will  be  a  constant  com- 
panion to  Anthony  Hope  in  *'  Rupert  of  Hentzau." 
All  we  ask  in  considering  matter  for  the  magazine 
is,  "Has  it  sufficient  and  right  kind  of  interest?" 
Matter  that  clearly  possesses  this  interest  is  always 
accepted,  whether  it  comes  from  known  or  unknown 
contributors,  and  is  liberally  paid  for.  We  are  glad 
to  receive  and  examine  contributions  of  any  sort 
within  the  scope  of  the  magazine — short  stories  and 
historical,  scientific,  and  other  special  articles. 
Awaiting  the  special  writer  who  can  prove  his  right 
to  it,  we  have,  indeed,  a  standing  special  prize. 
That  is  a  position  on  the  staff  of  the  magazine  for 
any  one  who  can  do  such  work  as  we  are  now  hav- 
ing done  by  other  members  of  the  editorial  staff, 
such  as  Miss  Tarbell  and  H.  J.  W.  Dam. 


A   MEMORIAL  TO   ROBERT   LOUIS   STEVENSON. 


The  proposal  to  erect  a  memorial  to  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson  in  Edinburgh,  the  city  of  his  birth,  is 
meeting  with  the  approval  that  one  would  have  pre- 
dicted for  it.  Besides  the  fitness  of  it  because  of 
Stevenson's  unquestionable  eminence  as  a  writer, 
there  is  to  prosper  it  that  peculiar  personal  affection 
with  which  he  bound  his  public  to  him.  An  Ameri- 
can Committee  has  just  organized  to  promote  the 
project  in  the  United  States,  and  issues  the  following 
address  : 

38  Union  Square,  New  York. 

It  has  been  proposed  to  erect  in  his  native  city  of 
Edinburgh  a  memorial  to  Robert  Louis  Steven- 
son, and  a  committee  of  his  Scotch  and  English 
admirers  and  friends,  headed  by  Lord  Rosebery  and 
having  among  its  number  those  as  near  to  Stevenson 
as  Mr.  Sydney  Colvin,  Mr.  George  Meredith,  and 
Mr.  J.  M.  Barrie,  has  been  already  formed  to  carry 
out  the  project.  But  Stevenson  is  nowhere  held  in 
greater  admiration  or  affection  than  in  America,  and 
it  seems  certain  that  many  of  his  American  readers 
would  be  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  take  part  in  this 
tribute  to  his  memory.  Many  of  them  have  felt 
through  his  books  the  vital  and  stimulating  person- 
ality that  made  him  one  of  the  most  attractive  figures 
in  recent  English  literature  ;  and  the  idea  of  this 
memorial  has  appealed  to  them  with  an  unusual 
force. 

With  the  authority  of  the  English  organization  an 


American  Committee  has  been  formed,  which  asks 
American  readers  and  admirers  of  Stevenson  to  con- 
tribute to  the  work.  The  memorial  is  to  take  the 
shape  of  a  "  statue,  bust,  or  medallion,  with  such 
architectural  or  sculpturesque  accompaniment  as  may 
be  desirable,"  and  the  character  of  those  having  the 
matter  in  charge  ensures  its  dignity  and  fitness. 

Subscriptions  of  whatever  amount  will  be  received 
for  the  American  Committee  by  the  undersigned,  its 
chairman,  and  receipts  returned  in  the  name  of  the 
committee.  To  the  subscribers  of  sums  of  $10.00  and 
upward  there  will  be  sent  by  the  American  Committee, 
as  a  memorial  of  participation  in  the  undertaking,  a 
special  edition,  printed  for  the  committee,  of  Steven- 
son's *'  JEs  Triplex,"  bearing  the  subscriber's  name 
and  having  as  its  frontispiece  a  reproduction  of  the 
portrait  by  John  S.  Sargent.  It  need  hardly  be  said 
that  this  edition  will  not  be  otherwise  obtainable. 
Charles  Fairchild, 

Chairman. 
Committee  : 


Henry  M.  Alden, 
E.  L.  Burlingame, 
Beverly  Chew, 
Charles  B.  Foote, 
Teannette  B.  Gilder, 


John  La  Farge, 
Will  H.  Low, 
James  Mac  Arthur, 
S.  S.  McClure, 
Augustus  St.  Gaudens, 


Richard  Watson  Gilder,     Charles  Scribner, 
Clarence  King,  J.  Kennedy  Tod, 

Gustav  E.  Kissel,  Geo.  E.  Waring. 


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St.  Ives  is  a  character  who  will  be  treasured  up  in  the  memory  along  with  David  Balfour  and  Alan  Breck,  even  with 
D'Artagnan  and  the  Musketeers.— London  "  Timet." 


THE   LAST    PORTRAIT   IN   STEVENSON'S   GALLERY. 

From  the  *'  St.  James's  Gazette** 

The  tale  is  told  :   the  story  ends, 
The  last  of  those  attractive  friends, 
Friends  whose  companionship  we  owe 

To  that  lost  master  of  romance 
With  whom  we  fought  against  the  foe 

Or  staked  the  desperate  chance: 

Since  first  we  tasted  the  delights 
Of  Florizers  adventurous  nights, 
Or  paced  the  "  Hispaniola's"  deck 

And  wished  John  Silver  far  away, 
Or  roamed  the  moors  with  Alan  Breck, 

Or  supped  with  Ballantrae. 

Now  bold  St.  Ives  admittance  craves 
Among  these  fascinating  knaves  ; 
With  him  from  prison  walls  we  leap, 

With  him  our  hearts  to  wrath  are  stirred, 
With  him  we  tremble,  laugh,  and  weep, 

Until  the  final  word. 

The  story  ends  ;  the  tale  is  told, 

And  though  new  books  new  friends  may  hold, 

Though  Meredithians  we  may  meet, 

Or  Wessex  lads  with  Wessex  wives, 
That  portrait  gallery  is  complete 

In  which  we  place  St.  Ives. 


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I 


Enam 
cheap 
sinks, 
metal 


Knutnt 
wat«?r, 


contempt  lor  tne  owner  oi  a 
dirty  house,  greasy  kitchen  or  a  filthy  cooking  uten- 
sil is  contempt  unrelieved  by  pity  and  unexcused 
by  partiality.  Indeed  there  is  no  excuse  for  such 
things  when  every  grocer  sells  SA POLIO  for 
scouring  and  cleaning. 

Beware  of  imitations. 

ENOCH    MORGAN'S  SONS  CO. 

New  York. 

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CET  THE  GENUINE  ARTICLE ! 


Walter  Baker  &  Cols 

breakfast 
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Pure, 

Delicious, 

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Costs  Less  than  ONE 
CENT  a  cup. 

Be  sure  that  the  package 
bears   our  Trade-Mark. 


Walter  Baker  &  Co.  Limited. 

Established  1780, 

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J 


Liebig  COMPANY'S 
Extract  of  Beef 

need  have  no  fear  of  being  attacked 
by  hunger* 

It' 5   Invaluable  for  Hunters,  Yachtmen  and 
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ried,  always  ready  and     //    ^S.  0 ' 

OOES  A  LONG  WAY.    \S {—*£_  ^ 4 ^*CS^ 

Lwk    for  this  signature  ^J  OK 

on  the  genuine :  Ir  J 


Bread  and  cake  raised  with  Royal  are 
wholesome  when  hot. 


ffl*\ 


10 

POWDER 

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ROYAL  tAKINO  POWDER  CO.,  NEW  YORK. 


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it! 


0 


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INE. 

No.  4. 

>  be/ore  midnight,  y*t(y  97. 


<  hitherto  unpublished)  by  Nansen,  Grecly,  Peary, 
and  Albert  Operti,  and  from  descriptions  by  Com- 


over  a  shorter  route  across  this  sea  to 
:na  and  India,  but  they  always  raefcJUth 
passable  ice.       Only  some  fo 
^o    the   Amer:— —  u-"*rograpl 
dvanced    a  ,f    of 

i'olar  sea,  an  -»e 

the  correctnc 
way.     When 

.  ClureCo.    All  righ 

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See  page  339- 
ABRAHAM  LINCOLN,  i860.    AGE  51.    LIFE  MASK  BY  LEONARD  W.  VOLK. 

From  a  photograph  taken  expressly  for  McClurk's  Magazine.  Mr.  Voile's  life  mask  of  Lincoln 
was  made  at  Chicago  in  i860,  shortly  before  Lincoln's  nomination  to  the  Presidency.  On  page  341  will 
be  found  a  reproduction  of  it  in  full  view. 


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McClure's  Magazine. 


Vol.  X.  FEBRUARY,  1898.  No.  4. 


If  ETA  INCOGNITA.— The  Northern  Boundary  of  Hudson  Strait.    From  a  color  study  painted  from  nature  an  hour  before  midnight,  July  97, 

1896,  by  Albert  Operti.  the  artist  of  the  Peary  Expedition. 


FUTURE    NORTH    POLAR    EXPLORATION. 

By  Dr.  Fridtjok  Nanskn, 
Author  of  "  Farthest  North,"  etc. 

Illustrated  with  photographs  and  drawings  from  life  (most  of  them  hitherto  unpublished)  by  Nanscn,  Greely,  Peary, 
the  Tegetthoff  Expedition,  and  the  Arctic  artists,  William  Bradford  and  Albert  Operti,  and  from  descriptions  by  Com- 
modore Melville  and  Captain  Brainard. 

THE    North    Polar    region  has  always  discover  a  shorter  route  across  this  sea  to 

had  great  attraction  for  the  imagi-  China  and  India,  but  they  always  met  with 

nation  of   mankind,    and  we  find   during  impassable  ice.       Only  some  forty  years 

times  past  the  most  extreme  views  as  to  ago    the   American    hydrographer   Maury 

its   real   character.      Centuries  ago  some  advanced   a   similar    theory    of    an   open 

Dutch  geographers  held  the  opinion  that  Polar  sea,  and  very  cleverly  tried  to  prove 

there  was  an  open  sea  with  a  warm  climate  the  correctness  of  this  theory  in  a  scientific 

at  the   North   Pole,  and  ships  set  sail  to  way.     When,   however,  this  open  sea  was 

Copyright,  1898,  by  the  S.  S.  McClure  Co.    All  rights  reserved. 


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FUTURE  JVORTff  POLAR  EXPLORATION. 


65-  70*  75*  80*  85*  *)•  85^ 


7ST  70» 


MAP   SHOWING   NANSEN'S   PROPOSED   ROUTE  TO  THE   POLE. 

A  Northernmost  point  reached  by  Nansen,  April  j,  1895  (80°  14').  B  By  Lockwood  and  Brainard  of  the  Greely  Expedition,  May,  t88s  (83®  «4')- 
C  By  Marfcham  and  Parr,  May,  1876  (830  */)•  D  By  Peary  and  Astruc,  July,  189a  (8i«  jf).  E  By  Parry,  July,  1897  (Sa°  45?).  G  De  Long,  June. 
1881  (77"  15').  0  marks  Dane's  Island,  Andree's  point  of  departure  on  his  balloon  journey.  The  inner  circle  marks  the  latitude  reached  by  Nansen 
and  Johansen ;  the  outer  one,  that  reached  by  Lockwood  and  Brainard.  The  course  of  the  "  Fram  "  is  also  marked,  as  well  as  the  Journey  of  Nansen 
and  Johansen  after  learing  the  "  Fram,"  first  northward,  and  then  southward  to  Franz  Josef  Land. 


found  not  to  exist,  opinions  went  to  the 
other  extreme,  and  the  idea  became  cur- 
rent that  the  Polar  sea  was  shallow,  with 
many  lands  and  islands,  and  that  the  Pole 
itself  was  covered  with  a  thick,  immovable 
ice  mantle. 

But  all  such  ideas  must  now  be  aban- 
doned in  the  light  of  the  more  recent  ex- 
plorations, and  we  are  able  to  form  a  more 
clear  and  sober  conception  of  the  far 
North. 

The  expedition  of  the  "Fram"  has 
proved  that  the  physical  conditions  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  Pole  are  very  much  the 
same  as  we  find  them  in  the  better  known 


regions  of  the  Arctic  sea.  There  was 
neither  an  open  sea  nor  an  immovable  ice 
mantle,  but  the  whole  area  is  an  extended 
deep  basin  covered  by  floating  ice,  con- 
stantly broken  up  and  being  carried  across 
from  the  Siberian  side  towards  the  Green- 
land side.  The  average  depth  of  this 
basin  we  found  to  be  towards  2,000  fath- 
oms along  the  whole  route  of  the  "  Fram/' 
and  it  is  evidently  a  continuation  of  the 
deep  North  Atlantic  trough,  stretching 
northwards  into  the  unknown  between 
Spitzbergen  and  Greenland.  The  depth 
of  this  sea  is  filled  with  comparatively 
warm    water,    warmer    than    that    in    the 


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DR.    NAN  SEN. 

From  a  recent  photograph  taken  expressly  for  McCLURB'S  MAGAZINE  by  Bliss  Brothers,  Buffalo,  New  York. 


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FUTURE  NORTH  POLAR  EXPLORATION. 


depths  of  the  north  Atlantic  Ocean,  and  it 
is  evident  that  this  warm  water  comes 
from  the  Atlantic,  fills  the  Polar  basin,  is 
gradually  cooled,  and  runs  out  again  as 
cold  water  to  fill  the  depth  of  the  sea  to 
the  south.  It  is  a  part  in  the  eternal  cir- 
culation of  the  ocean. 

The  question  now  arises,  What  extent 
has  this  sea  towards  the  North  ?  In  my 
opinion  it  is  not  doubtful  that  it  covers  the 
Pole  itself.  Had  the  "  Fram"  continued 
her  drift  in  the  ice,  she  would  have  been 
carried  southwards  along  the  east  coast  of 
Greenland;  but  she  would  have  left  a  great 
distance  between  her  and  the  coast,  down 
which  a  vast  volume  of  ice  is  carried, 
which  must  necessarily  come  from  the  re- 
gion north  of  the  track  of  the  "  Fran)." 

We  thus  see  that,  according  to  all  prob- 
ability, the  whole  area  between  the  Pole 
and  the  Siberian  coast  is  covered  by  a 
large  and  extended  sea;  and  there  cannot 
possibly  be  much  unknown  land  on  that 
side.  It  is  another  question,  however, 
what  we  may  expect  to  find  on  the  other 
side  between  the  Pole  and  the  American 
coast.      To  me  it  seems  probable  that  the 


greater  part  of  this  area  also  is  an  ice-cov- 
ered sea,  although  there  may,  of  course, 
be  unknown  land  and  islands  to  be  discov- 
ered in  this  direction,  as  it  is  not  probable 
that  we  have  yet  reached  the  most  north- 
ern limit  of  land.  The  most  important 
part  which  now  remains  unexplored  is  that 
extensive  region  which  is  limited  by  the 
"  Fram's  "  route,  the  route  of  the  "  Jean- 
nette,"  Patrick  Island,  Grant  Land,  and 
the  most  northern  part  of  Greenland, 
which  is  yet  unknown. 

How  can  this  unknown  region  be  ex- 
plored ?  I  think  there  are  various  ways  in 
which  it  ought  to  be  done,  as  each  of 
them  will  certainly  bring  important  results. 
I  think  the  drift  of  the  "Fram"  has 
clearly  proved  the  efficiency  of  the  mode 
of  travel  which  we  adopted.  That  a  ship 
can  be  built  able  to  withstand  the  pressure 
to  which  it  would  necessarily  be  subjected 
on  a  drift  through  these  regions  is  estab- 
lished. It  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that 
the  "  Fram  "was  exposed  to  difficulties  of 
this  kind  as  great  as  can  reasonably  be 
expected.  I  believe,  therefore,  that  the 
Polar  sea  can   at  all  times  be  traversed 


CUTTING  AND   CARTING  AWAY  THE   ICE  TO   RELIEVE   THE   ICK    PRESSURE   ON   THE   *4  FRAM." 


From  a  hitherto  unpublished  photograph. 


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DR.  FRIDTJOF  NANSEN. 


297 


with  sufficient  safety  in  this  manner,  if 
only  proper  provision  be  made.  Further- 
more, this  method  of  travel  offers  such 
great  advantages  that  it  certainly  ought  to 
be  adopted  in  the  future,  as  the  drift  of  a 


THE   "  PRAM  "    IN  THE  ICE. 

From  a  hitherto  unpublished  photograph  taken  by  moonlight,  January,  1895. 


ship  like  the  "  Fram  "  through  unknown 
regions  affords  the  best  means  of  making 
scientific  investigations  of  all  kinds.  It 
is  only  by  a  sojourn  of  years  that  suffi- 
cient material  can  be  collected  to  enable 
a  fully  satisfactory  conception  of  the 
physical  conditions  of  these  regions  to 
be  formed.  A  vessel  like  the  "  Fram  " 
is,  in  fact,  an  excellent  floating  observa- 
tory. 

I  think  that  such  an  expedition  ought  to 
go  north  through  Bering  Strait,  and  enter 


the  ice  in  a  northerly  or  perhaps,  rather, 
northeasterly  direction,  somewhere  be- 
tween 160  and  1 70  degrees  west  longitude. 
The  ship  will  then  be  closed  in  by  the  ice, 
and  will  certainly  be  carried  across  the 

unknown  sea  a 
great  distance 
north     of     the 

nam  s 
route,  across, 
or,  at  any  rate, 
not  far  from, 
the  Pole  itself, 
and  will  emerge 
into  open  water 
somewhere 
along  the  east 
coast  of  Green- 
land.  The 
expedition  will 
thus  bring  a 
sum  of  infor- 
mation about 
the  Polar  re- 
gion which  will 
be  of  priceless 
benefit  to  many 
branches  of 
science.  But 
such  a  drift  will 
take  a  longer 
time  than  ours 
did:  I  should 
say,  probably 
five  years.  It 
might,  how- 
ever, be  that 
the  drift  further 
north  is  more 
rapid  than  it 
was  in  the 
neighbor- 
hood of  the 
•  4  Fram's  '  ' 
route,  as  during 
Johansen's  and 
my  sledge  jour- 
ney I  got  the 
impression  that 
n  the  ice  the  fur- 


there  was  more  motion 
ther  we  went  north. 

It  might  be  urged  in  objection  to  an  ex- 
pedition of  such  long  duration,  that  it 
would  expose  its  members  to  certain  dan- 
gers, as  it  has  been  thought  that  a  num- 
ber of  years  in  these  parts  would  be  inju- 
rious to  health.  From  my  experience, 
however,  I  must  say  that  I  found  the  Arc- 
tic region  a  very  healthy  place  of  resort. 
There  are  no  diseases,  and  you  do  not 
even  catch  a  cold,  as  there  are  no  germs 

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FUTURE  NORTH  POLAR  EXPLORATION. 


to  produce  them. 
The  malady  which 
has  hitherto  been 
feared  more  than 
anything  else  in 
Arctic  expeditions 
is  scurvy;  but  that 
ought  not  to  occur 
again,  as  it  is  un- 
doubtedly very 
easily  avoided  when 
proper  precautions 
are  taken.  As  far 
as  I  understand,  it 
arises  from  poison- 
ing, caused  espe- 
cially ♦  by  badly 
preserved  meat  and 
fish.  It  seems  pro- 
ba  bl  e  that,  by 
the  decomposition 
which  takes  place 
in  the  meat  from 
bad  methods  of 
preservation  (in 
salt  meat,  for  in- 
stance), poisonous 
matter  is  produced 
which  is  allied  to 
the  so-called  pto- 
maines, and  this, 
when    constantly 

partaken  of,  causes  the  malady  we  call 
scurvy.  But  at  present  there  is  no  diffi- 
culty in  getting  well-preserved  food;  so 
that  this  difficulty  can  easily  be  avoided. 


« 


SKINNING   A   WALRUS.       FROM    A    HITHERTO    UNPUBLISHED    PHOTOGRAPH    TAKEN    UV    OR.    NANSEN. 


It  has  been  said 
that  the  privation 
and  isolation  during 
a  Polar  expedition 
must  have  an  un- 
wholesome effect, 
not  only  on  the 
health,  but  also  on 
the  mind,  and  will 
easily  cause  melan- 
choly and  other 
mental  sufferings. 
To  this  it  might  be 
answered  that  Jo- 
hansen  and  I  spent 
our  third  Polar 
winter  under  more 
lonely  circumstan- 
ces than  most  other 
explorers  have 
done,  and  still  we 
were  in  perfect 
health,  and  felt  no 
trace  of  any  mental 
suffering  of  the 
kind  mentioned. 
If  the  expedition  is 
well  equipped,  and 
consists  of  carefully 
picked  men,  I  do 
not  think  there  is 
any  more  risk  con- 
nected with  such  a  journey  than  with 
many  other  undertakings  in  life. 

By  such  a  drift  a  very  important  part  of 
the  still  unknown  Polar  region  could  be 
explored;  but 
there  would  re- 
main a  great  area 
on  the  American 
side  where  ex- 
ploration in  this 
way  would  not 
be  possible.  The 
best  method  of 
exploring  this 
area  seems  to  me 
to  be  by  dogs 
and  sledge.  Our 
expedition  has 
proved  that  it  is 
possible  to  cover 
comparatively 
long  distances  on 
the  floe  ice  of  the 
Polar  sea  by 
these  means,  and 
1  believe  that  the 
whole  of  this  un- 
known area  can 
be  so  explored  if 


LIEUTENANT  JOHANSEN.  FROM  A  HITHERTO  UNPUBLISHED 
PHOTOGRAPH  TAKEN  BY  DR.  NANSEN  AS  THEY  LEFT  THE 
WINTER  HUT  WHERE  THEY  HAD  SPENT  ALMOST  NINE 
MONTHS,   ON   MAY   19,    1896. 


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DR.   FRIDTJOF  NAN  SEN. 


299 


DR.   NANSEN. 
TOGRAPH, 


the  equipment  be  only 
made'  carefully,  and 
plenty  of  strong  and 
well-trained  sledge- 
dogs  be  taken. 

This  mode  of  travel 
has  the  advantage, 
compared  with  the 
one  previously  de- 
scribed, that  it  takes 
much  shorter  time  and 
you  are  more  master 
over  your  movements. 
As  far  as  geographi- 
cal exploration  goes 
and  the  investigation 
of  the  distribution  of 
land  and  water,  it 
offers  unrivalled  faci- 
lities. The  disadvan- 
tage is,  however,  that 
it  does  not  allow  of 
a  sojourn  of  any  dur- 
ation in  those  desolate 
regions  and  does  not 
give  you  the  oppor- 
tunity for  careful 
scientific  research 
which  is  needed  for  a 
complete  knowledge 
of  them.  It  is,  there- 
fore, to  be  hoped  that  both  modes 
travel  will  be  employed  in  the  future. 

A  third  way  of  getting  into  the  un- 
known is  the  balloon,  which  has  been  tried 
for  the  first  time 
this  year,  but  with 
what  results  we 
do  not  yet  know. 
The  main  import- 
ance of  such  an 
expedition  will  be 
to  give  us  infor- 
mation about  the 
distribution  of 
land  and  water, 
which  it  will  be 
able  to  do  in  case 
it  has  clear 
weather  and  the 
surface  of  the  sea 
or  land  is  not  hid- 
den by  mist.  The 
way  in  which  I 
should  imagine 
the  balloon  could 
be  of  most  use  in 
future  explora- 
tion would  be  to 
let  it  carry  sledges 
with      necessary 


KN     BY     LIEUTENANT    JOHANSEN 
LRAVINC  THE   WINTER   HUT,   MAY   19,    1896. 


of 


dogs  and  equipment 
northwards,  so  that  the 
expedition  could  leave 
the  balloon  and  travel 
across  the  ice  south- 
wards. The  necessity 
of  covering  the  same 
distance  twice  would 
thus  be  avoided,  and 
a  more  complete  ex- 
ploration of  the  region 
traveled  through 
would  thus  be  made. 

What  should  be  the 
aim  of  future  explo- 
ration ?  It  is  evident 
that  it  ought  to  be 
purely  scientific  re- 
search, and  the  more 
the  expedition  is 
equipped  for  this  pur- 
pose the  better  results 
there  will  be  obtained. 
The  first  thing  we 
want  to  know  is  the 
exact  distribution  of 
land  and  water  in  the 
whole  region.  It  is 
not  only  for  geograph- 
ical purposes  that  we 
want  this  knowledge: 
it  is  impossible  to  calculate  the  quantity  of 
water  on  the  globe  unless  we  know  this 
and  to  calculate  the  exact  relation  between 
the  sea  and  the  continents,  which  count  as 


HITHERTO    UNPUBLISHED    PHO- 


-i  •    < 


HAILING     KAYAKS     ON    THE     ICE.         PROM     A     HITHP.RTO 

DR.   NASShN. 


INITBtlSHBD     PHOTOGRAPH     BY 


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FUTURE  NORTH  POLAR  EXPLORATION. 


a  great  influence  on  the  conditions  of  the 
atmosphere,  the  circulation  of  ocean  cur- 
rents, and  many  other  physical  conditions. 
We  also  want  to  know  the  exact  depth  of 
this  Polar  sea  in  its  full  extent,  and  the 
water  temperatures  in  the  various  strata 
from  the  surface  down  to  the  bottom. 
And  then  we  must  know  more  about  the 
formation  of  the  ice  in  that  sea :  the  con- 
ditions which  are  necessary  for  its  freez- 
ing, how  the  ice  travels  across  the  sea, 
how  thick  it  grows,  etc.  A  perfect  knowl- 
edge of  all  this  will  not  only  help  us  to 
understand  better  the  climatic  conditions 
of  the  northern  regions,  and,  we  could  say, 
of  the  whole  surface  of  the  globe  of  to- 
day, but  it  will  perhaps  throw  some  light  on 
the  many  strange  climatic  changes  which 
have  taken  place  in  the  past  history  of  the 
earth. 

To  illustrate  of  what  importance  this 
might  be,  I  might  mention  here  a  discov- 
ery we  made  during  our  voyage  in  the 
"  Fram."  By  examining  the  salinity  of 
the  water  and  its  temperature  in  the 
various  depths,  we  found  that  the  Polar 
sea  is  covered  with  a  layer  of  compara- 
tively fresh  water,  with  a  very  low  tem- 
perature, about  the  freezing  point  of  water 
of  that  salinity  (29.3  to  29.12  degrees 
Fahrenheit).      When,  however,  we  pene- 


trated this  layer  to  a  depth  of  one  hundred 
fathoms,  we  suddenly  came  on  water  with 
a  greater  salinity,  and  the  temperature  of 
which  would  be  as  much  as  32.9  degrees, 
and  even  33.44  degrees,  Fahrenheit.  This 
is  much  warmer  than  we  should  expect  the 
water  to  be  in  the  frozen  North.  At  a 
greater  depth  the  water  varied  somewhat, 
but  remained  about  the  same  to  a  depth  of 
from  220  to  270  fathoms,  after  which  it  sank 
slowly  with  the  depth,  though  without  sink- 
ing to  the  cold  temperature  of  the  sur- 
face water.  It  did  not,  as  a  rule,  sink 
below  30.65  degrees,  which  temperature 
we  found  at  a  depth  of  about  1,600  fath- 
oms. Near  the  bottom  it  again  rose  quite 
slowly,  I  think  probably  on  account  of 
the  internal  heat  of  the  earth.  These  con- 
ditions may  seem  somewhat  astonishing, 
seeing  that  the  depths  of  the  north  Atlan- 
tic Ocean  north  of  Scotland,  the  Faroe 
Islands,  and  Iceland  are  filled  with  icy- 
cold  water,  the  temperature  of  which  is 
about  29.3  degrees  Fahrenheit.  The 
depths  of  the  sea  in  the  South  are  conse- 
quently colder  than  you  find  them  near 
the  Pole.  The  reason  is  evidently  that 
the  warm  salt  water  from  the  surface  of 
the  Atlantic  Ocean  is  carried  northwards 
by  the  Gulf  Stream  into  the  Polar  sea, 
where  it,  however,  meets  the  fresher  and 


AN   ICEBERG. 

From  a  photograph  taken  by  the  late  William  Bradford  of  New  Bedford,  Mass.,  an  artist  who  spent  more  than  seven  years  in  the  Arctic  seas, 
making  several  trips  with  Dr.  Hayes,  and  once  chartering  a  vessel  of  his  own,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  painting  the  scenery  of  the  far  North.  Some  of 
his  most  important  works  were  painted  for  and  are  owned  by  the  Queen  of  England  and  European  museums. 


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DR.  FRIDTJOF  NANSEN. 


301 


consequently 
lighter  water 
which  results 
from  the  con- 
stant outflow  of 
fresh  water  from 
the  Siberian  and 
American  rivers 
into  the  Polar 
basin.  Being 
heavier  on  ac- 
count of  its  salin- 
ity, the  warm 
Atlantic  water 
must  sink  under 
this  cold  but 
lighter  layer  on 
top,  and  will  fill 
the  whole  depth 
of  the  Polar 
basin.  What  is 
the  result  of 
this?  The 
fresher  water  on 
top  prevents  the 
warm  water 
from  approach- 
ing the  surface, 

and  consequently  the  formation  of  ice  by  into  the  Polar  sea.  It  is,  however,  evident 
freezing  is  not  very  much  retarded  by  that,  notwithstanding  the  protection  af- 
the  heat  which  this  warmer  water  carries    forded  by  this  cold  top-layer,  this  constant 


NAVY  CLIFF  (8l°  37'),   WHERE   LIEUTENANT   PEARY   ERECTED  A  CAIRN  AND  PLANTED   THE  AMERICAN 
.  FLAG  ON  JULY  4,   189a.      LIEUTENANT  PEARY'S  NORTHERNMOST  POINT   (8a°  ia*)    IS  ON  THE   ICE 
CAP  IN  THE   BACKGROUND  OF  THE   PICTURE. 

This  photograph  is  reproduced  by  the  courtesy  of  Lieutenant  Peary  and  his  publishers,  the  Frederick  A.  Stokes 
Company,  from  a  forthcoming  book. 


AN  EFFECT  OF  SUNSET  AND  SUNRISE.  FROM  THE  COLOR  STUDY  PAINTED  FROM  NATURE  IN  BAFFIN'S  BAY,  SEPTEMBER  23,  1896, 
BY  A.  OPERTI,  THE  ARTIST  OF  THE  PEARY  EXPEDITION,  DURING  THE  HALF  HOUR  DISAPPEARANCE  OF  THE  SUN,  WHEN 
THE  SUNSET  LIGHT  LINGERED  IN  THE  SKY  WHILE  THE  SUNRISE  RADIANCE   BEGAN  TO   BE   FELT. 


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FUTURE  NORTH  POLAR  EXPLORATION. 


FORT  COKCKK,   LIEUTENANT  GREBLY's   HEADQUARTERS   FROM    AUGUST,    l88l,  TO   AUGUST,    1883. 

From  a  photograph  kindly  loaned  by  General  A.  W.  Creely. 


inflax  of  warm  water  has  some  effect  in 
heating  the  Polar  sea  and  thus  reducing 
the  formation  of  ice  on  its  surface. 

There  is  also  another  important  factor 
which  prevents  the  ice  which  covers  this 
sea  from  growing  very  thick;  that  is,  that 
the  ice  is  constantly  carried  across  the  Po- 
lar region  by  the  winds  and  the  currents 
and  is  transported  southwards  to  lower 
latitudes,  where  it  melts  before  it  reaches 
the  age  necessary  to  grow  above  a  certain 
thickness.  The  thickest  floes  formed  di- 
rectly by  freezing  which  we  measured  were 
about  fourteen  feet  thick. 

What  would,  however,  take  place  if  this 
constant  outflow  of  ice  and  cold  water  and 
the  constant  influx  of  warm  water  were 
completely  stopped  ?  If,  for  instance,  by 
the  upheaval  of  the  sea-bottom,  a  ridge 
of  land  were  formed  across  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  from  Scotland  over  Shetland,  the 
Faroe  Islands,  and  Iceland  to  Greenland, 
such  as  we  know  there  probably  once  has 
been,  in  some  quite  recent  geological  pe- 
riod ?  The  result  would  be  that  the  ice 
would  be  blocked  up  by  this  land  even 
more  completely  than  it  is  now  blocked 
up  by  the  north  side  of  the  islands  of  the 
American  Arctic  Archipelago.  The  drift 
of  the  ice  would  gradually  be  stopped,  the 
floes  would  grow  thicker  and  thicker,  partly 
by  freezing  underneath,  partly  by  accumu- 


lation of  snow  on  the  surface,  and  the  Polar 
sea  would  be  covered  with  an  enormous 
ice-mantle,  such  as  that  which  so  many 
have  believed  covers  the  Pole. 

The  Gulf  Stream,  now  running  north- 
wards between  Scotland  and  Iceland,  would 
also  be  stopped  by  such  a  land  ridge,  and 
the  influx  of  warm  water  into  the  Polar  sea 
would  no  longer  take  place.  The  result 
of  this  would  necessarily  be  that  the  water 
in  this  basin  would  be  cooled  down  and 
we  would  probably  find  the  same  low  tem- 
perature which  is  now  limited  to  the  upper 
layer  through  the  whole  depth  of  the  sea. 
But  whether  the  result  would  be  that  the 
water  would  freeze  solid  to  the  bottom,  I 
think  is  rather  doubtful. 

It  is  evident  that  the  climatic  conditions 
would  be  very  much  altered  by  the  changes 
which  are  here  described.  The  surface  of 
the  Polar  sea  would  now  be  more  like  an 
enormous  glacier  than  an  ice-covered 
ocean.  On  account  of  the  radiation  of 
heat  from  the  surface  of  this  snow-covered 
ice-mantle,  the  average  temperature  of  the 
year  would  gradually  sink,  and  the  climate 
would  become  colder  than  it  is  at  present. 
But  at  the  same  time  the  Atlantic  Ocean  to 
the  south  of  the  land  ridge  mentioned 
would  not  be  cooled  down  by  the  outflow 
of  cold  water  and  ice  from  the  North,  and 
it  would  not  constantly  give  off  a  great 
Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


DR.  FR1DTJ0F  NAN  SEN. 


3a3 


STRANDKD    ICK   FLOES. 

From  photographs  Uken  by  the  Greely  Expedition,  and  kindly  loaned  by  General  A.  W.  Greely. 


part  of  its  heat  to  the  Polar  sea.  The 
consequence  would  be  that  it  would 
be  warmer  than  it  now  is,  and  we 
would  get  a  milder  climate  in  that  part 
of  the  globe  than  we  have  at  present. 
What,  on  the  other  hand,  would  be 
the  result  if  we  imagine  that  the  out- 
flow of  ice  and  the  influx  of  warm 
water  were  considerably  enlarged  ? 
What  would  happen  if,  for  instance, 
the  Bering  Strait  was  made  very  much 
broader  and  deeper  than  it  is  at  pres- 
ent, so  that  the  warm  Japanese  cur- 
rent, the  Kurosiwo,  could  run  into  the 
Polar  basin  ?  It  is  evident  that  the 
bulk  of  warm  water  would  be  more 
considerable  and  warmer  than  it  is  at 
present,  and  at  the  same  time  the  layer 
of  cold  water  on  top  would  be  very 
much  reduced.  The  result  would  be 
that  the  formation  of  ice  by  freezing 
would  be  still  more  retarded,  and 
then  the  floes  would  be  carried  out  of 
the  Polar  sea  more  rapidly  and  would 
get  even  less  time  to  grow  thick  than 
is  now  the  case.  Could  we,  however, 
imagine  that  the  Polar  sea  at  the 
same  time  got  no  supply  of  fresh 
water  from  the  Siberian  and  American 
rivers,  through  the  water-shed  being 
so  altered  that  these  rivers  would 
flow  into  some  other  ocean,  then  the 


MUPSUAH,       A   CAPII   YORK   NATIVE. 


From  the  fint  life  cast  erer  Uken  in  the  Arctic  regions,  by  A.  Opertl.  artist 
of  the  Peary  Expedition  Thete  Arctic  Highlanders,  of  the  purest  type  of  Es- 
kimo, are  tne  most  northern  tribe  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  They  were  first  dis- 
covered by  Sir  John  Ros*  in  1818,  and  are  now  fast  dying  out  Copyright,  1897, 
by  A  Operti. 


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3©4 


FUTURE  NORTH  POLAR  EXPLORATION. 


RUSSIAN   TYPE— NORTHEASTERN    SIBERIA. 


light,and  comparatively  fresh  water  as 
it  is  at  present,and  the  warm  salt  water 
carried  into  it  from  the  south  would 
be  allowed  to  approach  the  surface. 
The  result  would  necessarily  be  that 
the  formation  of  ice  would  be  very 
much  reduced.  During  the  greater  part 
of  the  year  we  would  probably  find 
much  open  water  in  the  North,  and  this 
would  make  the  climate  of  the  Polar 
region  milder.  But  at  the  same  time 
the  climate  in  the  lower  latitudes  would 
become  colder,  as  the  Southern  seas 
would  have  to  give  off  more  of  their 
heat  in  the  shape  of  warm  water  to  the 
Polar  sea,  and  would  in  exchange  re- 
ceive more  cold  water  from  the  North. 
The  result  would  be  less  difference 
between  the  climates  in  the  lower  lati- 
tudes and  the  high  northern  latitudes 
than  is  the  case  to-day. 

Whether  these  changes  of  climate 
caused  by  changes  in  the  distribution 
of  land  and  water  as  here  described 
are  sufficient  to  explain  the  cold  cli- 
mate which  must  have  been  prevailing 
in  the  Northern  regions  (Europe  and 
North  America)  of  the  Northern 
Hemisphere  during  the  ice  age,  and  to 
explain  the  hot  or  almost  subtropical 
climates  which  during  other  periods 
have  been  prevailing  in  some  parts  of 
the  Polar  regions,  is  a  more  compli- 
cated question.  In  my  opinion,  they 
will  not  be  sufficient  to  account  for 
these  strange  changes  which  we  know 
have  taken  place.  But  at  any  rate 
I  hope  that  what  I  have  here  men- 
tioned is  sufficient  to  show  how  Polar 
exploration  is  able  to  open  for  us 
glimpses  into  those  mists  which  cover 
the  previous  history  of  this  globe; 
glimpses  into  ages  long  before  man 
existed.  But  we  need  to  know  more 
in  order  to  solve  these  many  difficult 
problems.  Let  us  get  full  information 
about  the  Polar  sea  in  its  full  extent 
and  from  the  surface  to  the  bottom; 
let  us  learn  to  know  everything  about 
the  physical  conditions  in  those  re- 
gions, and  we  shall  certainly  advance 
a  good  step  towards  that  goal. 

There  are  also  a  good  many  other 
scientific  researches  which  are  much 
needed  in  the  Polar  regions.  I  may 
mention  here  magnetic  and  meteorolo- 
gical observations.  The  magnetism 
of  the  earth  and  its  strange  changes 
has  been  and  is  a  riddle,  and  we  do 
result  would  be  that  the  Polar  basin  would  not  yet  know  much  about  this  mysterious 
not  be  covered  with  such  a  layer  of  cold,    force.     The  greatest  lack  in  our  knowledge 


A     SAMOVRD— INHABITANT    OF     NORTHERN     RUSSIA    AND    EASTERN 

SIBERIA. 
These  two  portraits  and  the  one  on  the  opposite  page  are  from  photographs 
taken  by  the  Tegetthoff  (Austrian)  Expedition  of  1872. 


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DR.   FRIDTJOF  NANSEN. 


3©S 


about  it  is,  however,  that  we  have  not 
sufficient  magnetic  observations  from 
the  Polar  regions.  We  need  continu- 
ous observations  carried  on  for  years 
there.  On  board  the  "  Fram  "  we  got 
a  continuous  series  for  three  years; 
other  expeditions  have  also  brought 
back  valuable  material;  but  this  is  not 
sufficient.  We  should  also  have  it 
from  every  part  of  the  unknown  North, 
and  we  cannot  possibly  get  too  much 
It  is  not  necessary  to  point  out  the 
importance  of  knowledge  of  this  kind. 
It  is  not  only  that  the  magnetic  needle 
points  to  the  sailor  his  way  from  land 
to  land  and  from  harbor  to  harbor:  but 
the  knowledge  of  the  terrestrial  mag- 
netism has  in  many  other  ways  been 
of  great  benefit  to  mankind;  it  has 
been  one  of  the  stepping-stones  for 
our  evolution. 

That   meteorology  is  a  branch  of 
science  which  is  becoming  of  impor- 
tance to  humanity,   certainly  no  one 
will  doubt  in  this  country;    but  me- 
teorology is  still  in  its  childhood.     In 
order  to  explain  the  circulation  of  the 
air  in  our  atmosphere,  to  explain  the 
changes  in  temperature  and  air  pres- 
sure, explain  the  winds,  storms,  and  cy- 
clones, it  is  quite  necessary  for  us  to  know 
the  physical  conditions  of  the  atmosphere 
at  the  different  seasons  of  the  year  in  all 
parts  of  the  surface  of  the  earth.      Our 
knowledge   in    this  respect   is  being  con- 
stantly enlarged  in  recent  years,  and  we 
now  have  meteorological  stations  almost 
over  the  whole  world  where  men  are  liv- 
ing; but  there  is  a  great  and  badly  felt  gap 
in    the  knowledge,  and  that  is  the  Polar 
regions;  and  this  is  unfortunate,  as  these 
regions  are  of  special  importance  in  this 
respect,    because   the  physical    conditions 
there  differ  from  those  in  all  other  regions. 
We  have  not  yet  sufficient  material  to  know 
what   influence  those  extended  snow  and 
ice  covered  tracts,  with  the  long  Polar  day 
and  the  long  Polar  night,  have  on  the  at- 
mosphere, and  we  shall  not  be  able  to  ex- 
plain the  atmospheric  changes  in  our  own 
latitudes  "before  we  know  more  about  this. 

I  shall  not  go  any  further  into  this  mat- 
ter. What  I  have  said  is  perhaps  sufficient 
to  show  the  value  of  Polar  exploration,  to 
prove  to  the  disbelievers  that  it  is  neces- 
sary for  the  progress  of  science. 

Before  I  close,  only  one  question  more. 
Is  it  of  any  special  use  to  reach  the  North 
Pole  itself?     I  think  it  is.     Not  because 


LAPLAND   REINDEER  DR1VKK. 


this  mathematical  point  has  any  special 
interest,  or  has  any  special  scientific  value 
different  from  all  other  points  in  the  un- 
known North,  but  because  it  has  for  cen- 
turies been  the  ambition  of  sea-faring  na- 
tions to  reach  this  point  and  there  plant 
their  flag;  and  before  this  is  done  the  race 
for  the  Pole  will  never  cease.  It  also  cer- 
tainly is  below  the  dignity  of  man  to  erect 
a  goal  and  then  give  in  before  it  is  reached. 
I  believe  it  can  be  reached  without  too 
great  difficulties,  not  only  by  a  ship  drift- 
ing with  the  ice  across  the  Polar  sea,  as 
mentioned  above,  but  also  by  help  of  dogs 
and  sledges  from  the  Greenland  side. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  it  will  not  be  long 
before  this  point  is  gained.  As  long  as  we 
have  this  Holy  Grail  beckoning  us  in  the 
North  we  are  all  of  us  apt  to  forget  that  it 
is  scientific  research  which  ought  to  be  the 
sole  object  of  all  explorations.  Still  an 
expedition  which  shall  attain  this  goal  of 
centuries  must  yield  scientific  results  of 
great  importance;  but  the  greatest  result 
without  comparison  will  be  that  the  North 
Pole  will  have  been  trodden  by  human 
foot,  and  that  we  will  forever  get  the  quest 
for  this  mathematical  point  out  of  exist- 
ence. Then  the  time  for  pure  scientific  ex- 
ploration in  the  North  will  have  to  come. 


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"  Good rvrmin\  todies  «//.*'  stys  Hmnnak  marekin'  in  vri'  some  /kind  o/m  >  alico  qffdir. 


THE    WEE    TAY    TABLE. 


A   STORY    FROM    THE    IRISH    FIELDS. 

Bv  Shan  F.  Bullock, 

Author  of  "  Ring  o'  Rushes,"  "  The  Charmers,"  etc. 

With  Illu&trations  uy  Putcr  Newell. 


I  SLID  down  the  side  of  the  hay-cock, 
came  thud  upon  the  ground;  then 
turned  to  view  my  handiwork.  It  was 
pitiable.  This  side  bulged  out  like  the 
belly  of  a  slack  jib,  that  side  was  flat  as 
a  wall;  here  was  a  great  hollow  spot,  there 
an  overhanging  bump;  already  had  the 
neck  gone  awry,  and  the  top  stood  bob- 
bing like  the  knob  on  a  night-cap.  It  was 
woeful. 

The  master  came  up,  snorted  in  his 
sarcastic  way,  and  walked  off.  Wee 
James  came  spying,  sent  a  te-he  between 
his  teeth,  and  slouched  away.  "  Good 
man,  Jan,"  came  from  Hal  across  the 
meadow,  "  it's  the  very  image  of  your- 
self, my  son,  only  the  bump  on  it's  not  big 
enough."     "  Lie  down  under  it,"  shouted 


Ted,  "an'  when  it  falls  it'll  rid  the  world 
of  ye."  "  Och,  niver  heed  their  pranks," 
said  James  Daly,  and  came  up  sucking  at 
his  pipe;  "sure  it's  not — sure  it  might 
ha'  been  worse."  Without  a  word,  I 
turned  away,  picked  up  a  rake,  and  set  out 
across  the  meadow. 

Somewhere  near  the  hill  hedge,  with 
their  arms  bare,  their  skirts  tucked  up, 
and  their  faces  away  back  in  the  depths 
of  big  sunbonnets,  Anne  Daly  and  Judy 
Brady  were  gathering  the  hay  into  long, 
narrow  rows,  one  raking  this  side  of  a 
row,  the  other  that,  and  both  sweetening 
toil  with  laughter  and  talk.  Sometimes 
Anne  leaned  on  her  rake  and  chattered  for 
a  while.  Now  Judy  said  a  word  or  two 
and    ended    with     a    titter;    again    both 


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THE    WEE   TAY  TABLE. 


307 


bobbed  heads  and  broke  into  merriment. 
I  came  nearer  to  them,  put  down  my  rake, 
and  began  on  a  fresh  row. 

The  talk  was  of  a  woman,  of  her  and 
her  failings  and  absurdities.  Anne  was  of 
opinion  that  it  was  she  (Hannah,  she 
called  her)  and  the  likes  of  her  who  brought 
men  to  drink  and  children  to  early  graves. 
"The  lazy  trollop,"  said  Anne;  and  "Ay, 
ay,  indeed,"  as- 
sented Judy. 
"  Wasn't  it  won- 
derful to  the  world 
the  figure  she 
cut  ?"  asked  Anne, 
"  she  and  her  airs 
and  fooleries  and 
make-believes  ? ' ' 
Aw,  but  did  Judy 
mind  the  last  time 
they  saw  her  in 
Bunn  fair  —  all 
decked  out  like  a 
draper's  window 
with  flowers  and 
ribbons,  and  a  wee 
bonnet  cocked  on 
her  skull,  and  high- 
heeled  boots,  and 
the  sorrow  knows 
what  ?  Aw,  did 
Judy  mind  that  ? 
asked  Anne,  and 
laughed  over  her 
s  h  o  u  1  d  e  r .  Ah, 
faith,  but  Judy  did 
mind  it;  the  laugh- 
ingstock o'  the 
town  she  was.  And 
did  Judy  mind  the 
tay  party  she  gave 
one  time,  and  the 
wee  tablecloth? 
Aw,  heavenly  hour, 
did  Judy  mind  that  affair  ? 
tered  Judy;  aw,  now,  was 
ever  forget  it  ? 

"A  tablecloth  wi'  a  fringe  to  it,  an 
not  the  size  of  an  apron!  "  cried  Anne. 

"  A  calfskin  spread  on  the  flure,  an' 
John's  ould  hat  stuffed  wi'  flowers!  "  cried 
Judy. 

"  *  Wid  ye  like  three  lumps  or  four,  Mrs. 
Flaherty  ?  '  says  she,"  cried  Anne.  "  Aw, 
dear  heart  alive!  " 

"Then  in  comes  big  John!"  cried 
Judy.  "In  he  comes  —  an' — an' — aw, 
Lord,  Lord!  " 

And  Judy  bowed  her  head  and  laughed, 
and  Anne  bowed  hers  and  laughed;  and  I, 
standing  watching  them  and    taken    with 


/  slid  dinvn  the  side  0/  tht  hay-rock. 


Aw,  now,  tit- 
it  likely  she'd 


it 


the  infection,  must  needs  also  lift  up  my 
voice  in  a  great  guffaw. 

Anne  turned  and  looked  at  me. 
"Aw,    it's  you,    Mr.   Jan?"    said   she. 
"Sure,  I  thought" — and  she  glanced  to- 
ward the  river — "  that  when  we  left  ye,  ye 
were  buildin'  some  kind  of  a  ruck  ?" 

Overlooking  the   sly  allusion,   I  shoul- 
dered my  rake  and  walked  up  between  the 
rows. 

"  I've  come  to 
help  you  to  laugh, 
Anne,  ' '  said  I . 
"  What  friend  is 
this  of  yours  and 
Judy's  that  you  are 
stripping  of  her 
character  ?" 

"Ah,  no  friend 
is  it,"  said  Anne, 
and  went  on  rak- 
ing; "  an'  no  one 
ye  iver  heard  of." 
"  How  do  you 
know  that  ?  Come, 
out  with  it." 

"  Ah,  what's  the 
use?  Sure  it's  only 
foolishness." 

"Well,  tell  me, 
then,  about  the 
calfskin  an*  the 
wee  tablecloth." 

"Aw,  that,"  said 
Anne.  "  An'  did 
ye  hear  us  bleth- 
erin'  about  that? 
Aw,  now."  She 
laughed  a  little, 
protested  a  little  ; 
after  a  while  start- 
ed on  a  fresh  row, 
and  with  oneself 
facing  her  and 
heels,  went  on  with 


Judy  treading  on  her 
the  story. 

"  The  lassie,"  said  Anne,  "we  were 
talkin'  about  is  a  marrit  woman,  one 
Hannah  Breen,  an'  she  lives  in  a  big  house 
on  the  side  o'  the  hill  over  there  towards 
the  mountain.  The  husband's  a  farmer, 
an  easy-goin',  bull-voiced,  good-hearted 
lump  of  a  man,  wi'  a  good  word  for  ould 
Satan  himself,  an'  a  laugh  always  ready 
for  iverythin'.  But  the  wife,  Hannah, 
isn't  that  kind.  Aw,  'deed  she  isn't. 
'Tisn't  much  good-speakin'  or  laughin' 
Hannah'll  be  doin';  'tisn't  herself  'd  get 
many  cars  to  follow  her  funeral  in  these 
parts.  Aw,  no.  'Tisn't  milkin'  the  cows, 
an'   makin'  the  butter,  an'  washin'  John's 


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THE   WEE   TAY  TABLE. 


shirts,  an'  darnin'  his  socks,  an'  mendin' 
her  own  tatters,  an'  huntin'  the  chickens 
from  the  porridge  pot,  Hannah  was  made 
for.  Aw,  no.  It's  a  lady  Hannah  must 
be;  a  real  live  lady.  It's  step  out  o'  bed 
at  eight  o'clock  in  the  mornin'  Hannah 
must  do,  an'  slither  down  to  her  tay,  an' 
have  it  all  in  grandeur  in  the  parlor;  it's  sa- 
tin* half  the  day  she  must  be,  readin'  about 
the  doin's  o'  the  quality  an'  the  goin's  on 
o'  the  world,  an'  squintin'  at  fashion  pic- 
tures, an'  fillin*  her  mind  \vi'  the  height  o' 
nonsense  an'  foolery;  it's  rise  from  the 
table  in  a  tantrum  she  must  do  because 
John  smacks  his  lips  an'  ates  his  cabbage 
wi'  his. knife;  it's  worry  the  poor  man  out 
o'  his  wits  she'd  be  after  because  he  lies 
an*  snores  on  the  kitchen  table,  an' 
smokes  up  to  bed,  an'  won't  shave  more'n 
once  a  week,  an'  says  he'd  rather  be 
hanged  at  once  nor  be  choked  up  in  a  white 
shirt  an'  collar  o'  Sundays.  An'  for  her- 
self: aw,  now,  it'd  take  me  from  this  till 
sunset  to  tell  ye  about  all  her  fooleries. 
If  ye'd  only  see  her,  Mr.  Jan,  stalkin*  in 
through  the  chapel  gates,  wi'  her  skirts 
tucked  up  high  enough  to  show  the  frillin* 
on  her  white  petticoat  an*  low  enough  to 
hide  the  big  tear  in  it;  an*  black  kid  gloves 
on  her  fists;  an'  a  bonnet  on  her  wi'out  a 
string  to  it;  an'  light  shoes  on  her;  an'  a 
big  hole  in  the  heel  o'  her  stockin*;  an' 
her  nose  in  the  air;  an*  her  sniffin'  at  us 
all  jist  as  if  we  were  the  tenants  at  the 
butter  show  an'  herself  me  lady  come  to 
prance  before  us  all  an'  make  herself 
agreeable  for  five    minutes  or  so.      Aw, 


"  f'vt  ivme  ta  k  ://  y  t*  /->  tamgk.  Ann*  "  xmtd  1. 


Lord,  Lord,"  laughed  Anne,  "  if  ye  could 
only  see  her,  Mr.  Jan.  Ho,  ho,  childer. 
Ho,  ho!" 

44  Te-he,"  tittered  Judy  Brady.     "Aw, 
te-he!" 

44  Haw,  haw,"  went  I.  4<  Haw,  haw!  " 
44  An'  to  see  her  steppin*  down  Bunn 
Street,"  Anne  went  on,  as  we  turned  at  the 
hedge  and  set  our  faces  once  more  toward 
the  river,  44  as  if  the  town  belonged  to  her 
— a  ribbon  flutterin'  here,  an'  a  buckle 
shinin'  there,  an'  a  feather  danglin'  an- 
other place — steppin*  along  wi'  her  butter 
basket  on  her  arm,  an'  big  John  draggin' 
at  her  heels,  an'  that  look  on  her  face 
ye'd  expect  to  see  on  the  face  o'  the  Queen 
o'  France  walkin'  on  a  goold  carpet,  in 
goold  slippers,  to  a  goold  throne.  An' 
to  see  the  airs  of  her  when  some  one'd 
spake;  an'  to  see  the  murderin'  look  on  her 
when  some  one'd  hint  at  a  drop  o'  whisky 
for  the  good  of  her  health;  an'  to  hear  the 
beautuiful  talk  of  her  to  the  butter-buyers, 
that  soft  an'  po-lite;  an'  to  see  her  sittin' 
in  the  ould  ramshackle  of  a  cart  goin' 
home,  as  straight  in  the  back  an*  as  stiff 
as  a  ramrod,  an'  her  face  set  like  a  plaster 
image,  an'  her  niver  lettin'  her  eye  fall  on 
John  sittin'  beside  her,  an'  him  as  drunk 
an'  merry  as  a  houseful  o'  fiddlers.  Aw, 
sure,"  cried  Anne,  and  threw  up  a  hand, 
44  aw,  sure,  it's  past  the  power  o*  mortial 
tongue  to  tell  about  her." 

41  Yours,   Anne,   makes  a  good  offer  at 
the  telling,  for  all  that,"  said  I. 

44  Ach,     I'm     only     bletherin',"     said 
Anne,   ,4  if  ve  onlv  knew  her — if  ye  only 
did." 

44  Well,  tell  me  about  the 
wee  tablecloth,"  said  I, 
44  before  your  tongue  gets 
tired." 

44  Ah,  sure  an'  I  will,"  re- 
plied she,  44sure  an'  I'll  try 
me  hand  at  it." 

The  sun  was  dropping  fast 
behind  the  back  of  Emo  hill; 
from  the  river  a  gentle  breeze 
began  to  sport  with  the 
crackling  hay;  across  the 
meadow  came  the  rasp  of 
the  master's  file  on  the  knife 
of  the  mowing-machine,  and 
the  snorts  of  Hal's  horses 
and  the  shouts  of  Hal  him- 
self ;  back  near  the  hay- 
cock I  had  so  laboriously 
builded,  Ted  and  Johnny 
Brady  had  discovered  a  bee's 
nest,  and  Ted  was  valor- 
ously  circling  round  it  with 


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a  rake,  and  Johnny  crowing  with  delight 

and  clapping  his  hands  ;  clear  out  against 

the  eastern  sky,  the  figure  of  wee  James 

stood  straight  on  top  of  a  ruck,  his  hands  on 

his  hips,  his   feet 

as  close  together 

as  those  of  a  drill 

sergeant ;    there 

was  a  great  hum, 

a    babblement,    a 

noise  of  work  and 

summer  in  the  air; 

wherever  one 

looked     the    hills 

were  golden,  and 

the  fields  smiling 

within     t  h  e  i 1 

hedges,    and    the 

houses  shining  out 

in  their  gleaming 

whiteness. 

44Ye'll  be  mindin',"  said  Anne,  when 
she  had  loosened  her  bonnet  strings  and 
got  her  rake  swinging  once  more,  "that 
what  I'm  goin'  to  tell  ye  is  hearsay,  an' 
was  told  to  meself,  one  day  last  year,  be 
Jane  Flaherty  as  we  were  comin'  along 
the  road  from  Bunn  market.  Mebbe  I'll 
be  tellin'  ye  lies;  mebbe  Til  not — if  I  do 
may  the  Lord  forgive  me  and  Jane;  an*  if 
I  don't,  ye  may  thank  Jane,  for  it's  her 
own  words  I'm  goin'  to  tell  ye. 

14  One  day,  then,  some  time  last  summer, 
Hannah — beggin*  her  ladyship's  pardon," 
said  Anne,  with  a  fine  note  of  scorn   in 
her   voice,    44  but   I   mean    Mrs.    Breen — 
decks   herself    out,    ties   on    her   bonnet, 
pulls  on  her  kid  gloves, 
an' steps  out  through  the 
hall    dure.       Down     she 
goes  over   the   ruts  an' 
stones    along    the    lane, 
turns    down     the     main 
road,  after  a  while  comes' 
to    the    house    of    Mrs. 
Flaherty     (herself     that 
told     me),    crosses    the 
street,  and  knocks  po-lite 
on  the  dure. 

444  Aw,  is  Mrs.  Fla- 
herty at  home  this  fine 
day  ?  '  axes  Hannah  when 
the  dure  opens  an*  wee 
Nancy  puts  her  tattered 
head  between   it  an'  the  ~~~ 

post.     4  Is  Mrs.  Flaherty 
at  home  ?  '  says  she. 

She  is  so,'  answers  Nancy;  *  but  she'd 
be  out  at  the  well,'  says  the  wee  crature. 

44 4 1  see,'  says  Hannah,  4 1  see.  Then, 
if  you  please,  when  she  comes  back,'  says 


Because  he  lies  an"  snores  on  the  kitchen  table. 


she,  4  would  ye  be  kindly  handin'  her  that, 
wi'  Mrs.   Breen's  compliments?' — an'  out 
of    her    pocket    Hannah    pulls   a    letter, 
gives  it  to   Nancy,  says  good   evenin'  to 
the   wee    mortial, 
gathers  up  her 
skirt,  an'  steps  off 
in    her     grandeur 
through   the  hens 
and  ducks  back  to 
the   road.      Well, 
on   she    goes   an- 
other   piece,    an' 
comes  to  the  house 
of    Mary    Dolan; 
an'      there,     too, 
faith,  she  does  the 
genteel    an'   laves 
another  letter,  an' 
turns  her  feet  for 
the  house  of  Mrs. 
Hogan;  an'  at  Sally's  she  smiles  an'  bobs 
her  head,  an'  pulls  another  letter  from  her 
pocket,    an'    laves   it   at    the   dure;    then 
twists  on  her  heel,  turns  back  home,  an' 
begins  dustin'  the  parlor,  an'  arrangin'  her 
trumpery  an'    readin'    bleather    from  the 
fashion  papers. 

44  Very  well,  childer.    Home  Jane  comes 
from  the  well,  an'  there's  Nancy  wi'  the  let- 
ter in  her  fist.     4  What  the  wourld's  this  ? ' 
says  Jane,  an'  tears  it  open ;  an'  there,  lo  an' 
behold  ye,  is  a  bit  of  a  card — Jane  swears 
'twas  a  piece  of  a  bandbox,   but  I'd  not 
be  disbelievin'  her — an'  on  it  an  invite  to 
come  an'  have  tay  with  me  bould  Hannah, 
on    the   next   Wednesday  evenin',  at    five 
o'clock,    p.m. — whativer 
in  glory  p.m.  may  be  af- 
ter   meanin';    an'    when 
Mary  Dolan  opens  hers 
there's  the  same  invite; 
an'    when    Sally    Hogan 
opens  hers  out  drops  the 
same    bit   of   a   card  on 
the  flure;    an'  Sally 
laughs,  an'  Mary  laughs, 
an'  Jane  laughs;  an'  the 
three  o'  them,  what  wi' 
the  quareness  o'  the  busi- 
ness, an'  the  curiosity  of 
them  to  see  Hannah    at 
her    capers,    puts    their 
heads  together,  an' 
laughs  again,  an'  settles 
it  that,  sorrow  take  them, 
but  go  they'll  go.     An' 
go  they  did.     Aw,  yis.     Aw,  Lord,  Lord," 
laughed    Anne,    and    turned  up  her  eyes. 
44  Lord,  Lord." 

"Aw,  childer  dear,"  giggled  Judy,  and 

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Aw, 


gathered  up  her  narrow  shoulders, 
go  they  did." 

44  Good  girl,  Anne,"  said  I,  and  slapped 
my  leg;  44  my  roarin'  girl.  Aw,  an*  go 
they  did,  Judy;  go  they  did." 


•*  Would  ye  be  kindly  Aanditt'  her  that,  wi"  Mrs. 
Breen's  compliments  f" 

"Well,  hearts  alive,"  Anne  went  on, 
44  Wednesday  evenin'  comes  at  last,  an' 
sharp  to  five  o'clock  up  me  brave  Jane 
Flaherty  steps  along  the  lane,  crosses  the 
yard,  an',  mindin'  her  manners,  knocks 
twice  on  Hannah's  back  dure,  then  turns, 
an',  wi*  the  dog  yelpin'  at  her,  an'  the 
gander  hissin'  like  a  wet  stick  on  a  fire, 
waits  like  a  beggar-woman  on  the  step. 
But  divil  a  one  comes  to  the  dure;  aw, 
not  a  one.  An'  sorrow  a  soul  budged  in- 
side; aw,  not  a  soul.  So  round  turns  Jane, 
lifts  her  fists  again,  hits  the  dure  three 
thunderin'  bangs,  an'  looks  another  while 
at  the  gander.  Not  a  budge  in  the  dure, 
not  a  move  inside;  so  Jane,  not  to  be  done 
out  of  her  tay,  lifts  the  latch — an',  sure 
as  the  sun  was  shinin',  but  the  bolt  was 
shot  inside.  'Well,  dang  me,'  says  Jane, 
an'  hits  the  dure  a  kick,  *  but  this  is  a  fine 


way  to  treat  company,'  says  she,  an' 
rattles  the  latch,  an'  shakes  it;  at  last, 
in  the  divil  of  a  temper,  spits  on  the  step, 
whips  up  her  skirt,  an',  cursin'  Hannah 
high  up  an'  low  down,  starts  for  home. 

44  She  got  as  far  as  the  bend  in 
the  lane,  an'  there  meets  Mary 
Dolan. 

44  '  What's  up  ?  '  axes  Mary. 
*  What's  floostered  ye,  Jane  Fla- 
herty ?  Aren't  ye  goin'  to  have 
your  tay,  me  dear  ?  '  says  Mary. 

44  4  Aw,  may  the  first  sup  she 
swalleys  choke  the  breath  in  her,' 
shouts  Jane,  an'  goes  on  to  tell  her 
story,  an'  before  she'd  said  ten 
words  up  comes  Sally  Hogan. 

44  4  Am  I  too  late  ? '  says  Sally. 
4  Or  am  I  too  early  ? '  says  she. 
4  Or  what  in  glory  ails  the  two  o' 
ye?' 

444  Ails?'  shouts  Jane.  4  Ye 
may  well  say  that,  Sally  Hogan. 
Ye  may  turn  on  your  heel,'  says 
she;  an'  begins  her  story  again; 
an'  before  she  was  half  way 
through  it  Sally  laughs  out,  and 
takes  Jane  by  the  arm,  an'  starts 
back  to  the  house. 

44  4  Come  away,'  says  she;  *  come 

away   an'    have    your   tay,    Jane. 

Sure,  ye  don't  know  Hannah  yet.' 

44  So  back  the  three  goes  then; 

but  not  through  the  yard.    Aw,  no. 

'Twas  through  the  wee  green  gate, 

an'  down  the  walk,  an'  slap  up  to 

the   hall    dure  Sally  takes  them; 

an'   sure  enough  the  first  dab  on 

me   knocker   brings    a    fut    on    the   flags 

inside,  an'  there's  Kitty,  the  servant-girl, 

in    her   boots   an'    her  stockin's  and    her 

Sunday  dress,   an'   a  white  apron  on  her, 

standi n'  before  them. 

44  4  Aw,  an'  is  that  you,  Kitty  Malone  ?  ' 
says  Sally.  4  An'  how's  yourself,  Kitty, 
me  dear  ?  An'  wid  Mrs.  Breen  be  inside  ?  ' 
says  she. 

44  4  She  is  so,  Mrs.  Hogan,'  answers 
Kitty,  an'  bobs  a  kind  of  a  courtesy. 
4  Wid  ye  all  be  steppin'  in,  please  ? ' 

44  4  Aw,  the  Lord's  sake,'  gasps  Sally,  on 
the  durestep,  at  all  this  grandeur;  4  the 
Lord's  sake,'  says  she,  an'  steps  into  the 
hall;  an*  in  steps  Mary  Dolan;  an'  in 
steps  Jane  Flaherty;  an'  away  the  three  o' 
them  goes  at  Kitty's  heels  up  to  the  parlor. 
Aw,  heavenly  hour,"  cried  Anne,  and 
turned  up  her  eyes.  "Aw,  childer, 
dear!" 

44Te-he!"  giggled  Judy,  and  hoisted 
her  shoulders.     "  Aw,  te-he!  " 


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"  Haw,  haw,"  laughed  I.  "  Aw,  Judy, 
dear.     Haw,  haw." 

"Well,  dears,"  Anne  went  on,  "in  the 
three  walks,  bonnets  an*  all,  an*  sits  them 
down  along  the  wall  on  three  chairs,  an' 
watches  Kitty  close  the  dure; 
then  looks  at  each  other  in  a 
puzzled  kind  o'  way,  an*  after 
that,  without  openin'  a  lip,  casts 
their    eyes    about    the    room. 
'Twas    the   funniest  kind  of  a 
place,  Jane  allowed,  that  iver 
she  dropped  eyes  on.      There 
was  a  sheepskin,    lvin'    woolly 
side    up,   in    front   o'   the    fire- 
place, an*  a  calfskin  near  the 
windy " 

"  Ay,  a  calfskin,"  said   Judy 
Brady;  "  aw,  te-he!  " 

"An'  a  dog's  skin  over  by 
the    table,    an*    the    flure   was 
painted  brown  about  three  fut 
all  round  the  walls.     There  was 
pieces  o'  windy  curtain  over  the 
backs  o'  the  chairs;  there  was 
a  big  fern  growin'  in  an  ould 
drain-pipe  in  the  corner;  there 
was  an  ould  straw  hat  o'  John's 
stuffed  full  o'  flowers,  hangin' 
on  the  wall,  an'  here  an'  there, 
all  round  it  an'  beside  it,  were 
picters    cut    from    the    papers   a 
tacked  on  the  plaster.     Ye  coulc 
see  the  mantel-shelf,  Jane  allowed,  for  all 
the   trumpery  was   piled  on  it — dinglum- 
danglums  of  glass   an'  chany,  an'  shells 
from  the  say,   an'  a  sampler   stuck    in  a 
frame,  an'   in  the  middle  of  all   a  picter 
of  Hannah  herself  got  up  in  all  her  finery. 
An'  there  was  books  an*   papers  an'   fal- 
lals,   an'    the   sorrow    knows   what,    lyin' 
about;  an'  standin'  against  the  wall,  facin' 
the  windy,  was  a  wee  table  wi'  a  cloth  on 
it  about  the  size  of  an  apron,  an'  it  wi'  a 
fringe  on  it,  no  less,  an*  it  spread  skew- 
wise  on   it,  an'    lookin'   for  all  the  world 
like  a  white  ace  o'  diamonds;  an'  on  the 
cloth  was  a  tray  wi*  cups  an'  saucers  an' 
sugar  an'   milk,   an'    as  much   bread    an' 
butter,    cut    as    thin    as    glass,    as    ye'd 
give   a    sick    child    for   its   supper.      Aw, 
heavenly    hour,"  cried   Anne,   "heavenly 
hour!"' 

"Aw,  childer  dear,"  cried  Judy;  "aw, 
te-he!" 

"Aw,  women  alive,"  said  1;  "aw, 
Judy,  dear,  haw,  haw!  " 

"  Well,  childer,  the  three  looks  at  it  all, 
an*  looks  at  each  other,  an'  shifts  on  their 
chairs,  an'  looks  at  each  other  again;  an' 
says  Mary  Dolan,  at  last: 


We're  in  clover,  me  dears,*  says  she; 
'  judgin*  be  the  spread  beyant '  — an'  she 
nods  at  the  wee  table. 

"  '  Aw,  that'll  do  for  a  start,'  says  Sally 
Hogan;  'but  how  in  glory  are  we  all  to  put 


our  legs  under  that  wee  table  ? 
Sure  it'll  be  an  ojus  squeeze.' 

"'It  will  so,'  says  Jane  Flaherty,  'it 
will  so.  But  isn't  it  powerful  quare  of 
Hannah  to  keep  us  sittin'  so  long  in  our 
bonnets  an'  shawls,  an'  us  dreepin'  wi'  the 
heat  ?  ' 

"  '  It's  the  quarest  hole  I  iver  was  put 
in,'  says  Mary  Dolan;  'an'  if  this  is  gran- 
deur give  me  the  ould  kitchen  at  home  wi* 
me  feet  on  the  hearth  an'  me  tay  on  a 
chair.  Phew,'  says  Mary,  and  squints 
round  at  the  windy,  '  phew,  but  it's 
flamin'  hot.  Aw,'  says  she,  an'  makes  a 
dart  from  her  chair;  'dang  me,  but  I'll 
burst  if  I  don't  get  a  mouthful  o'  fresh 
air.'  An'  jist  as  she  had  her  hand  on 
the  sash  to  lift  it,  the  dure  opens,  an'  in 
steps  me  darlint  Hannah. 

"'Good  evenin',  ladies  all,'  says  Han- 
nah, marchin'  in  wi'  some  kind  of  a  calico 
affair,  made  like  a  shroud,  an'  frills  on  it, 
hangin'  on  her.  'Good  evenin',  ladies,' 
says  she,  an'  wi'  her  elbow  cocked  up  in 
the  air  as  if  she  was  strivin'  to  scrape  it 
against  the  ceilin',  goes  from  one  to  an- 
other an'  shakes  hands.  '  It's  a  very 
pleasant  afternoon  '  (them  was  the  words), 


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says  she,  makin'  for  a  chair  beside  the  wee 
table;  4  an'  I'm  very  pleased  to  see  ye  all/ 
says  she. 

44 'Aw,  an'  the  same  here,'  says  Mary 
Dolan,  in  her  free  way;  4  the  same  here, 
an*  ojus  nice  ye  look  in  that  sack  of  a  cal- 
ico dress,  so  ye  do/  says  Mary,  wi'  a  wink 
at  Jane  Flaherty.  4  But  it's  meself  'd  feel 
obliged  to  ye  if  so  be  ye'd  open  the  windy 
an'  give  us  a  mouthful  o'  fresh  air/  says 
Mary. 

44  An'  Hannah  sits  down  in  her  shroud 
wi'  the  frills  on  it,  an' 
smiles,  an'  says  she: 
4  I'm  rather  delicate  ' 
(them  were  the  words) 
4  this  afternoon,  Mrs. 
Dolan,  an'  afeerd  o' 
catchin'  cowld  ;  an', 
forby  that,'  says  she, 
4  the  dust  is  so  injuri- 
ous for  the  parlor.' 

44  '  Aw,  just  so,'  an- 
swers Mary;  *  just  so. 
Sure  I  wouldn't  for 
worlds  have  ye  spoil 
your  parlor  for  the  likes 
of  us.  But  I'll  ax 
your  leave,  Mrs. 
Breen,  seein'  ye  don't 
ax  me  yourself,  to 
give  me  own  health  a 
chance,'  says  she,  *  be 
throwin'  this  big  shawl 
off  me  shoulders.' 

44  4  But  it's  afternoon 
tay,  Mrs.  Dolan,'  an- 
swers Hannah,  in  her 
cool  way;  4  an'  it's  not 
fashionable  at  after- 
noon tay  for  ladies  to 
remove ' 

44  4  Then  afternoon 
tay  be  danged,'  says 
Mary,  an'  throws  her 
shawl  off  her  across 
the  back  of  her  chair;  4  an'  it's  meself'll 
not  swelter  for  all  the  fashions  in  the 
world,'  says  she,  an'  pushes  her  bonnet 
back  and  lets  it  hang  be  the  strings  down 
her  back.  4  Aw,  that's  great,'  says  she, 
wi'  a  big  sigh;  an'  at  that  off  goes  Jane's 
shawl  an'  bonnet;  an' off  goes  Sally's;  an' 
there  the  three  o'  them  sits  wi'  Hannah 
lookin'  at  them  as  disgusted  as  an  ass  at 
a  field  of  thistles  over  a  gate.  Aw,  glory 
be,"  cried  Anne;  4<  aw,  ho  ho!  " 

44  Aw,  me  bould  Anne,"  cried  Judy; 
44  me  brave  girl.     Te-he!  " 

44  Good  for  you,  Anne,"  said  I.  44  Aw, 
me  brave  Judy,  haw,  haw!  " 


44  Well,  dears,  Hannah  sits  her  down, 
puts  her  elbow  on  a  corner  o'  the  ace  of 
diamonds,  rests  her  cheek  on  her  hand, 
an'  goes  on  talkin'  about  this  an*  that. 
She  hoped  Mrs.  Flaherty  an'  Mrs.  Dolan 
an'  Mrs.  Hogan  were  well  an'  prosperous; 
she  hoped  the  crops  were  turnin'  out  well; 
she  hoped  all  the  childer  were  in  the  best 
o'  good  health — aw,  like  the  Queen  o* 
Connaught,  Hannah  talked,  an'  smiled, 
an*  aired  herself  an'  her  beautiful  English, 
but  sorrow  a  move  did  she  make  to  shift 


Aw,  an'  is  that  you,  Kitty  Malont  /  "  says  Sally. 

her  elbow  off  the  wee  tablecloth,  an'  not 
a  sign  or  smell  o'  tay  was  there  to  be  seen. 
Aw,  not  a  one.  Ten  minutes  went,  an' 
twenty,  an'  half  an  hour;  an'  at  that,  up 
Mary  Dolan  stretches  her  arms,  gives  a 
powerful  big  yawn,  an'  says  she:  4  Och, 
dear  Lord/  says  she,  4  dear  Lord,  but  the 
throat's  dry  in  me.  Och,  och! '  says  she; 
an'  with  the  hint  up  gets  Hannah  in  her 
frilled  shroud,  crosses  the  calfskin,  opens 
the  dure,  an'  calls  for  Kitty.  4  Yis,  Mrs. 
Breen,'  answers  Kitty  from  the  kitchen. 
4  Serve  tay,'  calls  Hannah;  then  closes 
the  dure  an'  steps  back  to  her  chair  by 
the  wee  table. 


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"  In  about  ten  minutes  here 
comes  me  darlint  Kitty,  boots  an* 
stockin's  an'  all;  carries  the  tay- 
pot  on  a  plate  over  to  the  table, 
an*  plants  it  down  slap  in  the  mid- 
dle o*  the  ace  o'  diamonds.  Up 
jumps  Hannah  wi*  a  bounce. 

41 'What   are  ye  doin',  Kitty?' 
says  she,  with  a  snap  of  her  jaw, 
an*  lifts  the  tay-pot  an*  glares  at 
the  black  ring  it  had  made  on  her       * 
brand  new  cloth.     '  D'ye  see  what     ( 
ye've  done  ?  '  says  she,  lookin*  as      v 
black  in  the  eyes  as  the  bottom  o* 
the  tay-pot.      'Stand  back,*  says 
she,    pointin*    her   finger  ;    4  stand 
back  an*  mend  your  manners,   ye 
ignerent  little  baggage  ye! ' 

44  '  Yis,  ma'am,'  answers  Kitty, 
an'  stands  back;  then  turns  her 
head,  when  she  got  to  the  calfskin, 
an'  winks  at  the  three  sittin'  by  the 
wall;  an'  out  Mary  Dolan  bursts 
into  a  splutter  of  a  laugh. 

44 'Aw,    Lord,*   says   Mary,   an'     AH-7okH, 
holds  her  ribs;  4  aw,   dear  Lord,' 
says  she.     But   Hannah,   standin' 
pourin'  the  tay  into  the  wee  cups,  jist  kept 
her  face  as  straight  as  if  Mary  was  a  dum- 
my; an'  in  a  minute  she  turns  round  to 
Kitty. 

44  *  Hand  the  cups  to  the  ladies,'  says 
she,  an'  sits  her  down. 

44  Well,  childer  dear,  Kitty  steps  from 
the  calfskin,  lifts  two  cups  an'  saucers 
from  the  tray,  carries  them  across  the 
flu  re,  an*  offers  one  to  Jane  Flaherty  wi' 
this  hand,  an'  t'other  to  Sally  Hogan  wi' 
that  hand.  An*  Sally  looks  at  the  cup 
an'  then  at  Kitty,  an'  Jane  looks  at  Kitty 
an'  then  at  the  cup;  an'  says  Sally: 

44  4  Is  it  take  it  from  ye  ye'd  have  me 
do,  Kitty  Malone  ?  '  says  she. 

44  4  It  is  so,'  answers  Kitty,  wi'  a  grin. 

44  4  An'  where  in  glory  wid  ye  have  me 
put  it,  Kitty  Malone?'  asks  Sally,  an' 
looks  here  an'  there.  4  Sure — sure  there's 
no  table  next  or  near  me,'  says  she. 

44  4  It's  afternoon  tay,  Mrs.  Hogan,' 
says  Hannah  across  the  flure,  'an'  at 
afternoon  tay  tables  aren't  fashionable,' 
says  she,  an'  grins  to  herself. 

44  '  Well,  thank  God,  Hannah  Breen,' 
says  Mary  Dolan,  4  that  afternoon  tay,  as 
ye  call  it,  has  only  come  my  way  once  in 
me  life.  Take  the  cup  in  your  list,  Sally 
Hogan,'  says  Mary,  4  an'  if  ye  break  it 
bad  luck  go  with  it,  an'  if  ye  don't  ye've 
been  a  lady  for  once  in  your  life;  an' 
when  you're  done  stick  it  there  on  the 
flure.      I'm  obliged  to  ye,  Kitty  Malone,' 


vas  standm'  Ittt  at  if  ht  tras  skat  in  the  mittdU  o'  tktjturt,  an'  lyin' 
at  his  fttt  was  the  xv<t  table, 

says  Mary  again,  an'  takes  a  cup;  4  an'  if 
so  be  I  choke  meself  wi*  the  full  o'  that 
thimble-wi'-a-handle-on-'t,'  says  Mary, 
an'  squints  at  the  cup,  4  ye'll  do  me  the 
favor  to  tell  Pat  I  died  a  fool.  An*  if 
such  things  go  well  wi*  afternoon  tay, 
Kitty  agra,  I'd  trouble  ye  for  a  look  at  a 
spoon.'  Aw,  me  bould  Mary!"  cried 
Anne,  and  laughed  in  her  glee.  44  Ye  were 
the  girl  for  Hannah,  so  ye  were.  Aw, 
ho,  ho!  " 

44  Aw,  *dced  ay,"  cried  Judy,  and  tit- 
tered most  boisterously.  44  Aw,  me  brave 
Hannah.     Te-he!  " 

44  Good  for  you,  Mary  Dolan,"  cried 
I,  44and  good  for  you,  Anne,  my  girl. 
Ah,  haw,  haw! " 

44  Then  begins  the  fun,  me  dears.  First 
of  all,  Sally  Hogan,  in  trying  to  lift  a  bit 
o*  bread  an'  butter  from  a  plate  that  Kitty 
held  before  her,  must  spill  her  tay  over 
her  lap  an*  start  screechin'  that  she  was 
kilt.  Then,  Mary  Dolan  must  finish  her 
cup  at  a  gulp,  an*  forgettin'  it  was  in  Han- 
nah's parlor  she  was  at  afternoon  tay, 
an'  not  at  home  in  the  kitchen,  must  give 
the  dregs  a  swirl  an'  sling  them  over  her 
shoulder  against  the  wall.  Then,  Sally 
Hogan,  again,  in  tryin'  to  keep  back  a 
laugh  at  the  tay  leaves  on  the  wall  an*  the 
glare  of  Hannah  across  at  them,  must 
get  a  crumb  in  her  throat  an*  bring  the 
whole  room  to  thump  her  on  the  back. 
Then,  Jane  Flaherty  gets  a  second  cup  wi' 


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THE    WEE   TAY   TABLE. 


no  sugar  in  it,  an*  makes  a  face  like  a 
monkey's  an*  gives  a  big  splutter,  an*  sets 
Kitty  Maloneoff  into  a  fit  o'  laughin';  an* 
Kitty  sets  Jane  off,  an'  Jane  sets  Mary  off, 
an'  Mary  sets  Sally  off;  an'  there  sits 
Hannah  in  her  calico  shroud,  beside  the 
ace  o*  diamonds,  wi'  a  face  on  her  like  a 
child  cuttin'  its  teeth,  an*  her  arm  out,  an' 
her  shoutin'  for  Kitty  to  take  herself  out  o' 
the  room.  An'  in  the  middle  o'  the  whole 
hubbub  the  dure  opens,  an'  in  tramps  big 
John  in  his  dirty  boots,  wi'  his  shirt-sleeves 
turned  up,  an'  hay  ropes  around  his  legs, 
an*  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  an* 
his  pipe  in  his  mouth — in  steps  John,  an' 
stands  lookin'  at  them  all. 

"  '  Ho,  ho,'  roars  John,  an*  marches 
across  the  calfskin;  'what  have  we  here? 
A  tay  party,'  says  he,  'as  I'm  a  livin'  sin- 
ner! An*  me  not  to  know  a  thing  about 
it!  Well,  better  late  nor  never,'  says  he, 
then  turns  an'  looks  at  Hannah.  '  Aw, 
how  d'ye  do,  Mrs.  Breen  ? '  says  he,  wi'  a 
laugh.  '  I  hope  I  see  ye  well  in  your  regi- 
mentals. An'  how  the  blazes  are  the 
rest  o*  ye,  me  girls  ? '  says  he  to  the  three 
along  the  wall.  *  I'm  glad  to  see  ye  all  so 
hearty  an'  merry,  so  I  am.  But  what,  in 
glory,  are  ye  all  doin'  over  there  away 
from  the  table  ?  Why  don't  ye  sit  over 
an'  have  your  tay  like  Christians  ? '  says 
he.  '  Come  over,  girls;  come  over  this 
mortal  minute,'  says  John;  '  an'  I'll  have  a 
cup  wi'  ye  meself,  sn  T  w5n  * 

"  Then  Hanm 
in  h  e  r  c  a  1  i  c  o 
shroud.  'John,' 
says  she,  '  it's 
afternoon  tay 
it'll  be;  an' 
tables ' 

"  '  Ah,  sit  ye 
down,  Hannah,' 
says  John;  *  sit 
ye  down,  woman, 
an'  be  like  an- 
other for  once 
in  a  way.' 

"'John,' 
says  Hannah  again,  an'  looks  knives  an' 
forks  at  him,  '  where's  your  manners  the 
day  ? ' 

"  *  Ah,  manners  be  danged,'  roars  John, 
an*  throws  his  hat  into  the  corner;  'give 
us  a  cup  o'  tay,  an'  quit  your  nonsense. 
Come  on,  girls,'  says  he  to  the  women; 
'  come  over  an'  have  a  cup  in  comfort  wi' 
me  here  at  the  table.' 

"  '  John,'  says  Hannah  again,  '  ye  can't 
sit  at  this  table.  It's  too  small,'  says 
she. 


Puts  their  heads  together^  an'  laugh  < <  again,  an' 
but  go  they'll g< 


"  '  Then  pull  it  out  from  the  wall,'  roars 
John;  '  pull  it  out  and  let  us  get  round  it. 
Come  on,'  says  he,  an'  grips  an  end  o'  the 
table,  '  give  it  a  lift  across  the  flure! ' 

"  '  No,  no,  John,'  shouts  Hannah,  an* 
grips  t'other  end  to  keep  it  from  goin\ 
'  Ye  mustn't,  John.' 

"  '  Out  wi'  it,'  roars  John  again. 
"'No,    no,'  shouts  Hannah,  'ye  can't 
— aw,  ve  can't — aw,  ye  mustn't — no,  no, 
John  [% 

"  'Ah,  to  glory  wi'  you  an'  it,'  shouts 
John.  'Here,  let  me  at  it  meself.'  An' 
the  next  minute  Hannah  was  screechin'  in 
her  shroud;  an'  there  was  a  clatter  o' 
crockery  as  if  a  bull  had  gone  slap  at  a 
dresser,  an'  John  was  standin'  like  as  if  he 
was  shot  in  the  middle  o'  the  flure,  an' 
lyin'  at  his  feet  was  the  wee  table,  an'  the 
ace  o'  diamonds,  an'  the  whole  o'  Han- 
nah's cups  an'  saucers,  an'  the  tay  pot, 
an'  all,  in  a  thousand  pieces.  Aw,  hearts 
alive;  hearts  alive!  " 

"  What  had  happened,  Anne  ?  "  said  I. 
"  Happened  ?  Sure  the  table  was  only 
an'  ould  dressin'  table,  an'  had  only  three 
legs,  an'  was  propped  wi'  the  lame  side 
against  the  wall;  an*  when  John  put  it 
down  in  the  middle  of  the  flure — Aw, 
now,"  cried  Anne,  "  that's  enough — that's 
enough!  Aw,  childer,  dear!  Aw,  me 
sides,  me  sides!     Aw,  ho,  ho!  " 

"Aw,  me  sides,  me  sides,"  cried  Judy, 

nnH  uhrk^k  below    her    big 

»t.     "  Aw,  te-he!  " 

"Aw,    women 

alive,"   cried    I, 

and  sank  back  on 

the   hay.     "Aw, 

haw,  haw!  " 

From    the 

bank    of    the 

river      came      a 

mighty  shout; 

then     a    skirl 

from   Hal;   then 

a      burst      of 

laughter     from 

the  men,   and  a 

cry  from  Ted:   "  Look,  Jan,  look,  quick!  " 

I   turned   and   looked;  and   there  along 

the  meadow  lay  spread  the  haycock  which 

at  such  a  cost  I  had  laboriously  builded. 

"  Good  man,  Jan,"  shouted  Hal  from 
the  mowing-machine,  "  is  that  the  way 
they  build  rucks  in  London  ?  " 

I  refrained  from  answering,  but  Anne 
Daly,  taking  pity  upon  me,  stooped  and 
said  softly:  "It  jist  wanted  one  thing, 
Mr.  Jan,  jist  one  thing.  Like  Hannah's 
tay  table,  'twas  lame  of  a  leg." 


settles  it  that,  sorrow  take  them, 


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TOBIAS    LEAK,    HR1VATK    SECRETARY   TO    WASHINGTON. 

From  the  original  miniature  owned  by  his  granddaughter,  Mrs.  Susan  Lear  Eyre,  of  Philadelphia. 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 

FROM    THE    MANUSCRIPT    DIARY    OF    HIS    PRIVATE    SECRETARY, 
COLONEL    TOBIAS    LEAR. 


Saturday,  December  14,  1799. 

THIS  day  being  marked  by  an  event 
which  will  be  memorable  in  the  his- 
tory of  America,  and  perhaps  of  the 
world,  I  shall  give  a  particular  statement 
of  it,  to  which  I  was  an  eyewitness. 


THE  LAST  ILLNESS  AND  DEATH   OF 
GENERAL  WASHINGTON. 


On  Thursday,  December  12th,  the  Gen- 
eral rode  out  to  his  farms  about  ten 
o'clock,  and  did  not  return  home  till  past 
three. 

Soon  after  he  went  out  the  weather  be- 


came very  bad,  rain,  hail,  and  snow  fall- 
ing alternately,  with  a  cold  wind. 

When  he  came  in  I  carried  some  letters 
to  him  to  frank,  intending  to  send  them 
to  the  post-office  in  the  evening.  He 
franked  the  letters;  but  said  the  weather 
was  too  bad  to  send  a  servant  to  the  office 
that  evening. 

I  observed  to  him  that  I  was  afraid  he 
had  got  wet;  he  said  no,  his  great  coat 
had  kept  him  dry;  but  his  neck  appeared 
to  be  wet,  and  the  snow  was  hanging  upon 
his  hair.  He  came  to  dinner  (which  had 
been  waiting  for  him)  without  changing 
his  dress.  In  the  evening  he  appeared  as 
well  as  usual. 

A  heavy  fall  of  snow  took  place  on 
Friday,  which  prevented  the  General  from 
riding  out  as  usual.     He  had  taken  cold 


Editor's  Notk— Tobias  Lear  was  born  at  Portsmouth,  N.  H..  September  19,  1762,  and  died  at  Washington,  D.  C, 
October  u,  1816.  He  graduated  at  Harvard  University  in  1783,  and  in  1785  became  private  secretary  to  General  Wash- 
ington. In  1802  he  was  appointed  consul  general  at  Santo  Domingo,  and  in  1804  consul  general  at  Algiers.  In  1805  he 
negotiated  a  treaty  of  peace  with  Tripoli.  Colonel  Lear  was  greatly  trusted  by  Washington,  and  his  account  of  Washing- 
ton s  last  days  is  the  one  on  which  all  of  the  important  biographers  have  depended  ;  but  it  has  rarely,  if  ever,  been  pub- 
lished in  full.  It  is  printed  herefrom  the  original  manuscript,  now  in  the  possession  of  a  near  relative  of  Mrs.  Lear. 
This  manuscript  has  been  generally  supposed  to  be  lost. 


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THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  GEORGE   WASHINGTON. 


(undoubtedly  from  being  so  much  exposed 
the  day  before),  and  complained  of  a 
sore  throat.  He  however  went  out  in  the 
afternoon  into  the  ground  between  the 
house  and  the  river  to  mark  some  trees 
which  were  to  be  cut  down  in  the  improve- 
ment of  that  spot.  He  had  a  hoarseness, 
which  increased  in  the  evening,  but  he 
made  light  of  it.  In  the  evening  the 
papers  were  brought  from  the  post-office, 
and  he  sat  in  the  parlor,  with  Mrs.  Wash- 
ington and  myself,  reading  them  till  about 
nine  o'clock,  when  Mrs.  Washington  went 
up  into  Mrs.  Lewis's  room,  who  was  con- 
fined in  childbed,  and  left  the  General  and 
myself  reading  the  papers.  He  was  very 
cheerful,  and  whenever  he  met  with  any- 
thing interesting  or  entertaining,  he  read 
it  aloud  as  well  as  his  hoarseness  would 
permit  him. 

He  requested  me  to  read  to  him  the  de- 
bates of  the  Virginia  Assembly  on  the  elec- 
tion of  a  Senator  and  a  Governor;  and, 
on  hearing  Mr.  Madison's  observations 
respecting  Mr.  Monroe,  he  appeared  much 
affected,  and  spoke  with  some  degree  of 
asperity  on  the  subject;  which  I  endeav- 
ored to  moderate,  as  I  always  did  on  such 
occasions.  On  his  retiring  I  observed  to 
him  that  he  had  better  take  something  to 
remove  his  cold.  He  answered:  "  No;  you 
know  I  never  take  anything  for  a  cold. 
Let  it  go  as  it  came." 

Between  two  and  three  o'clock  on  Sat- 
urday morning,  he  awoke  Mrs.  Washing- 
ton and  told  her  he  was  very  unwell  and 
had  had  an  ague.  She  observed  that  he 
could  scarcely  speak  and  breathed  with 
difficulty;  and  would  have  got  up  to  call  a 
servant,  but  he  would  not  permit  her,  lest 
she  should  take  cold. 

As  soon  as  the  day  appeared,  the  woman 
(Caroline)  went  into  the  room  to  make 
a  fire,  and  Mrs.  Washington  sent  her 
immediately  to  call  me.  I  got  up,  put  on 
my  clothes  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
went  to  his  chamber.  Mrs.  Washington 
was  then  up,  and  related  to  me  his  being 
taken  ill,  as  before  stated. 

I  found  the  General  breathing  with  diffi- 
culty and  hardly  able  to  utter  a  word  in- 
telligibly. He  desired  that  Mr.  Rawlins 
(one  of  the  overseers)  might  be  sent  for 
to  bleed  him  before  the  doctors  could  ar- 
rive. I  despatched  a  servant  instantly  for 
Rawlins  and  another  for  Dr.  Craik,  and 
returned  again  to  the  General'6  chamber, 
where  I  found  him  in  the  same  situation  as 
I  had  left  him. 

A  mixture  of  molasses,  vinegar,  and 
butter  was  prepared  to  try  its  effect  in  the 


throat,  but  he  could  not  swallow  a  drop. 
Whenever  he  attempted  it,  he  appeared 
to  be  distressed,  convulsed,  and  almost 
suffocated.  Rawlins  came  in  soon  after 
sunrise,  and  prepared  to  bleed  him.  When 
the  arm  was  ready  the  General,  observing 
that  Rawlins  appeared  to  be  agitated, 
said,  as  well  as  he  could  speak,  "  Don't 
be  afraid,"  and,  after  the  incision  was 
made,  he  observed,  "  The  orifice  is  not 
large  enough." 

However,  the  blood  ran  pretty  freely. 
Mrs.  Washington,  not  knowing  whether 
bleeding  was  proper  or  not  in  the  General's 
situation,  begged  that  much  might  not  be 
taken  from  him,  lest  it  should  be  injurious, 
and  desired  me  to  stop  it.  But  when  I 
was  about  to  untie  the  string,  the  General 
put  up  his  hand  to  prevent  it,  and,  as  soon 
as  he  could  speak,  said:  "  More,  more." 
Mrs.  Washington,  being  still  very  uneasy 
lest  too  much  blood  should  be  taken,  it 
was  stopped  after  taking  about  half  a 
pint. 

Finding  that  no  relief  was  obtained  from 
bleeding  and  that  nothing  would  go  down 
the  throat,  I  proposed  bathing  it  externally 
with  "  salvi  latila,"  which  was  done;  and 
in  the  operation,  which  was  with  the  hand 
and  in  the  gentlest  manner,  he  observed, 
"  'Tis  very  sore."  A  piece  of  flannel 
dipped  in  "  salvi  latila  "  was  put  around  his 
neck  and  his  feet  bathed  in  warm  water; 
but  without  affording  any  relief. 

In  the  meantime,  before  Dr.  Craik  ar- 
rived, Mrs.  Washington  desired  me  to  send 
for  Dr.  Brown  of  Port  Tobacco,  whom 
Dr.  Craik  had  recommended  to  be  called, 
if  any  case  should  ever  occur  that  was 
seriously  alarming. 

I  despatched  a  messenger  (Cyrus)  imme- 
diately for  Dr.  Brown  (between  eight  and 
nine  o'clock).  Dr.  Craik  came  in  soon 
after,  and,  upon  examining  the  General,  he 
put  a  blister  of  cantharides  on  the  throat, 
took  some  more  blood  from  him,  and  had 
a  gargle  of  vinegar  and  sage  tea  ordered, 
and  some  vinegar  and  hot  water  for  him  to 
inhale  the  steam,  which  he  did;  but  in  at- 
tempting to  use  the  gargle  he  was  almost 
suffocated. 

When  the  gargle  came  from  his  throat 
some  phlegm  followed  it,  and  he  attempted 
to  cough,  which  the  doctor  encouraged 
him  to  do  as  much  as  possible,  but  he 
could  only  attempt  it. 

About  eleven  o'clock  Dr.  Craik  re- 
quested that  Dr.  Dick  might  be  sent  for, 
as  he  feared  Dr.  Brown  would  not  come  in 
time.  A  messenger  was  accordingly  de- 
spatched for  him.      About  this  time  the 


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FROM   THE  DIARY  OF  HIS  PRIVATE  SECRETARY. 


3*7 


THK    LAST    PORTRAIT   OF   WASHINGTON.       1798.      AGK   66. 

Drawn  from  life  by  St.  Mcmin  in  1798.  From  the  original  drawing  when  in  the  possession  of  the  late  J.  Carson 
Brevoort  of  Brooklyn,  New  York.  The  present  location  and  ownership  of  the  drawing  are  unknown.  (Sec  McClure's 
Magazine  for  February,  1897,  page  308  ) 


General  was  bled  again ;  no  effect  was,  how- 
ever, produced  by  it,  and  he  remained  in  the 
same  state,  unable  to  swallow  anything. 

A  blister  was  administered  about  twelve 
o'clock,  which  .  .  .  caused  no  alteration 
in  his  complaint. 

Dr.  Dick  came  in  about  three  o'clock, 
and  Dr.  Brown  arrived  soon  after.     Upon 


Dr.  Dick's  seeing  the  General,  and  consult- 
ing a  few  minutes  with  Dr.  Craik,  he  was 
bled  again;  the  blood  came  very  slow,  was 
thick,  and  did  not  produce  any  symptoms 
of  fainting.  Dr.  Brown  came  into  the 
chamber  soon  after,  and  upon  feeling  the 
General's  pulse,  etc.,  the  physicians  went 
out   together.      Dr.    Craik    returned  soon 


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THE   LAST  DAYS  OF  GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 


after.  The  General  could  now  swallow  a 
little.  Calomel  and  tartar  emetic  were 
administered;  but  without  any  effect. 

About  half-past  four  o'clock,  he  desired 
me  to  call  Mrs.  Washington  to  his  bedside, 
when  he  requested  her  to  go  down  into  his 
room  and  take  from  his  desk  two  wills 
which  she  would  find  there  and  bring 
them  to  him,  which  she  did.  Upon  look- 
ing at  them  he  gave  her  one,  which  he 
observed  was  useless,  as  being  superseded 
by  the  other,  and  desired  her  to  burn  it, 
which  she  did,  and  took  the  other  and  put 
it  into  her  closet. 

After  this  was  done  I  returned  to  his  bed- 
side and  took  his  hand.     He  said  to  me: 

"  I  find  I  am  going;  my  breath  can 
not  last  long.  I  believed  from  the  first 
that  this  disorder  would  prove  fatal.  Do 
yon  arrange  and  record  all  my  late  military 
letters  and  papers,,  arrange  my  accounts, 
and  settle  my  books,  as  you  know  more 
about  them  than  any  one  else,  and  let  Mr. 
Rawlins  finish  recording  my  other  letters, 
which  he  has  begun." 

I  told  him  this  should  be  done.  He 
then  asked  if  I  recollected  anything  which 
it  was  essential  for  him  to  do,  as  he  had  but 
a  very  short  time  to  continue  among  us. 
I  told  him  I  could  recollect  nothing,  but 
that  I  hoped  he  was  not  so  near  his  end. 
He  observed,  smiling,  that  he  certainly 
was,  and  that  as  it  was  a  debt  which  all 
must  pay,  he  looked  to  the  event  with 
perfect  resignation. 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  he  ap- 
peared to  be  in  great  pain  and  distress 
from  the  difficulty  of  breathing,  and  fre- 
quently changed  his  posture  in  the  bed. 
On  these  occasions  I  lay  upon  the  bed 
and  endeavored  to  raise  him  and  turn  him 
with  as  much  care  as  possible.  He  ap- 
peared penetrated  with  gratitude  for  my 
attentions,  and  often  said,  "  I  am  afraid  I 
shall  fatigue  you  too  much;  "  and  upon  my 
assuring  him  that  I  could  feel  nothing  but 
a  wish  to  give  him  care,  he  replied:  "  Well, 
it  is  a  debt  we  must  pay  to  each  other,  and 
I  hope  when  you  want  aid  of  this  kind 
you  will  find  it." 

He  asked  me  when  Mr.  Lewis  and  Wash- 
ington Custis  would  return  (fhey  were  in 
New  Kent).  I  told  him  about  the  20th  of 
the  month. 

About  five  o'clock  Dr.  Craik  came  again 
into  the  room,  and,  upon  going  to  the  bed- 
side, the  General  said  to  him: 

"Doctor,  I  die  hard;  but  I  am  not 
afraid  to  go.  I  believed  from  my  first  at- 
tack that  I  should  not  survive  it;  my 
breath  can  not  last  long." 


The  doctor  pressed  his  hand,  but  could 
not  utter  a  word.  He  retired  from  the 
bedside,  and  sat  by  the  fire  absorbed  in 
grief. 

Between  five  and  six  o'clock,  Dr.  Dick 
and  Dr.  Brown  came  into  the  room,  and 
with  Dr.  Craik  went  to  the  bed,  when  Dr. 
Craik  asked  him  if  he  could  sit  up  in  the 
bed.  He  held  out  his  hand,  and  I  raised 
him  up.  He  then  said  to  the  physicians: 
"  I  feel  myself  going.  I  thank  you  for 
your  attentions;  but  1  pray  you  to  take  no 
more  trouble  about  me;  let  me  go  off 
quietly;  I  can  not  last  long." 

They  found  that  all  which  had  been 
done  was  without  effect;  he  lay  down 
again,  and  all  retired  except  Dr.  Craik. 
He  continued  in  the  same  situation,  un- 
easy and  restless,  but  without  complain- 
ing, frequently  asking  what  hour  it  was. 
When  I  helped  him  to  move  at  this  time, 
he  did  not  speak,  but  looked  at  me  with 
strong  expressions  of  gratitude. 

About  eight  o'clock  the  physicians 
came  again  into  the  room,  and  applied 
blisters  and  cataplasms  of  wheat  bran  to 
his  legs  and  feet,  after  which  they  went 
out  (except  Dr.  Craik)  without  a  ray  of 
hope. 

I  went  out  about  this  time  and  wrote  a 
line  to  Mr.  Law  and  Mr.  Peter,  requesting 
them  to  come  with  their  wives  (Mrs.  Wash- 
ington's granddaughters),  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, to  Mount  Vernon. 

About  ten  o'clock  he  made  several  at- 
tempts to  speak  to  me  before. he  could 
effect  it.  At  length  he  said:  "  I  am  just 
going;  have  me  decently  buried,  and  do 
not  let  my  body  be  put  into  the  vault  in 
less  than  three  days  after  I  am  dead." 

I  bowed  assent,  for  I  could  not  speak. 
He  then  looked  at  me  again  and  said: 
"  Do  you  understand  me  ?  " 

I  replied,  "  Yes." 

"  'Tis  well,"  said  he. 

About  ten  minutes  before  he  expired 
(which  was  between  ten  and  eleven 
o'clock)  his  breathing  became  easier;  he 
lay  quietly;  he  withdrew  his  hand  from 
mine,  and  felt  his  own  pulse.  I  saw  his 
countenance  change.  I  spoke  to  Dr. 
Craik,  who  sat  by  the  fire.  He  came  to 
the  bedside.  The  General's  hand  fell  from 
his  wrist.  I  took  it  in  mine,  and  put  it  into 
my  bosom.  Dr.  Craik  put  his  hands  over 
his  eyes.  And  he  expired  without  a  strug- 
gle or  a  sigh. 

While  we  were  fixed  in  silent  grief,  Mrs. 
Washington  (who  was  sitting  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed)  asked,  with  a  firm  and  col- 
lected voice,  "  Is  he  gone  ?  " 


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3*9 


I  could  not  speak,  but  held  up  my  hand 
as  a  signal  that  he  was  no  more. 

"  'Tis  well,"  said  she,  in  the  same 
voice;  "  all  is  now  over,  and  I  shall  soon 
follow  him.  I  have  no  more  trials  to  pass 
through. " 

Occurrences  not   noted   in 
narrative : 


As  soon  as  Dr.  Craik  could  speak,  after 
the  distressing  scene  was  closed,  he  desired 
one  of  the  servants  to  ask  the  gentlemen 
below  to  come  up  stairs.  When  they  came 
to  the  bedside  I  kissed  the  cold  hand 
which  I  had  held  to  my  bosom,  laid  it 
the  preceding  down,  and  went  to  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  where  I  was  for  some  time  lost  in 


The     General's     servant,    Christopher,    profound  grief,  until  aroused  by  Christo- 
was  in  the  room  through  the  day,  and  in    pher  desiring  me  to  take  care  of  the  Gen- 


the  afternoon  the 
General  directed 
him  to  sit  down,  as 
he  had  been  stand- 
ing almost  the 
whole  day. 
did  so. 

About    e  i 
o'clock 


He 


morning 
pressed 
to     get 
clothes 
on,    and 
led  to  a 


in 
he 


ght 
the 
ex- 


a    desire 

up  ;     his 

were    put 

he    was 

chair  by 


eral's  keys  and 
other  things  which 
were  taken  out  of 
his  pockets  and 
which  Mrs.  Wash- 
ington directed 
him  to  give  me.  I 
wrapped  them  in 
the  General's 
handkerchief,  and 
took  them  with  me 
to  my  room. 

About  twelve 
o'clock  the  corpse 
was  brought  down 
stairs  and  laid  out 
in  the  large  room. 

Sunday y  December 

*S>  *799* 
The      foregoing 
statement,    so    far 
as  I  can  recollect, 
is  correct. 

Jas.  Craik. 

Sunday,  December 

x5>  1799- 
Fair    weather. 
Mrs.     Washington 
sent  for  me  in   the 
morning,   and    de- 
sired I  would  send  up  to  Alexandria  and 
have  a  coffin  made,  which  I  did.     Dr.  Dick 
measured    the    body,    the    dimensions   of 
which  were  as  follows: 

In   length,   six   feet  three  and  one-half 
inches,  exact. 

Across   the    shoulders,    one    foot    nine 
inches,  exact. 

Across  the  elbows,  two  feet,  exact. 
After  breakfast  I  gave  to  Dr.  Dick  and 
Dr.  Brown  forty  dollars  each,  which  sum 
Dr.  Craik  advised  as  very  proper,  and 
near  the  foot  of  the  bed;  Christopher  was  they  left  us  after  breakfast. 
standing  by  the  bedside;  Caroline,  Molly,  I  wrote  letters  to  the  following  persons, 
and  Charlotte  were  in  the  room,  standing  informing  them  of  the  late  melancholy 
near  the  door;  Mrs.  Forbes,  the  house-  event:  The  President  of  the  United  States, 
keeper,  was  frequently  in  the  room  during  „  Thc_oriKinal  rcads  *  l8oo» .  but  this  sccras  to  bc  an 
the  day  and  evening. 


M  \K  I  MA    WASHINGTON, 


the  fire;  he  found 
no  relief  from  that 
position,  and  lay 
down  again  about 
ten  o'clock. 

About  five  p.m. 
he  was  helped  up 
again,  and  after 
sitting  about  half 
an  hour,  desired 
to  be  undressed 
and  put  in  bed, 
which  was  done. 

During  hiswhole 
illness  he  spoke 
but  seldom,  and 
with  great  dif- 
ficulty and  dis- 
tress, and  in  so  low  and  broken  a  voice  as 
at  times  hardly  to  be  understood.  His 
patience,  fortitude,  and  resignation  never 
forsook  him  for  a  moment.  In  all  his  dis- 
tress he  uttered  not  a  sigh  nor  a  complaint, 
always  endeavoring  (from  a  sense  of  duty, 
as  it  appeared)  to  take  what  was  offered 
him  and  to  do  as  he  was  desired  by  his 
physicians. 

At  the  time  of  his  decease,  Dr.  Craik 
and  myself  were  in  the  situation  before- 
mentioned;  Mrs.   Washington  was  sitting 


1801.       AGK   69. 


From  the  original  miniature  painted  by  Robert  Field  in 
i8oi.  Owned  by  Mrs.  Kate  Upshur  Moor  head  of  Washing- 
ton, P.  C,  sixth  in  lineal  descent  from  Mrs.  Washington. 


error.— Eimtok. 


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320 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  GEORGE   WASHINGTON. 


General  Hamilton,  General  Pinckney, 
Bushrod  Washington,  Colonel  W.  A. 
Washington,  Lawrence  Lewis,  G.  W.  P. 
Custis,  George  S.  Washington,  Samuel 
Washington,  Colonel  Ball,  Captain  Ham- 
mond; also  to  John  Lewis,  desiring  him  to 
inform  his  brothers  George,  Robert,  and 
Howell.  The  letters  were  sent  by  the  fol- 
lowing conveyances:  to  the  President, 
General  Hamilton,  and  John  Lewis,  by  the 
mail;  to  Colonel  W.  A.  Washington  and 
to  B.  Washington,  by  express  to  Colonel 
Blackburn,  requesting  him  to  forward 
them  by  same  conveyance;  to  L.  Lewis, 
G.  W.  P.  Custis,  by  express;  to  General 
Pinckney,  Colonel  Ball,  Samuel  Washing- 
ton, G.  S.  Washington,  and  Captain  Ham- 
mond, by  my  own  servant  Charles,  with 
my  riding  horse. 

Mrs.  Stuart  was  sent  for.  In  the  morn- 
ing about  ten  o'clock,  Mr.  Thomas  Peter 
came  down,  and  about  two  o'clock,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Law,  to  whom  I  had  written  on 
Saturday  evening.  Dr.  Thornton  came 
down  with  Mr.  Law.  Dr.  Craik  tarried 
all  day  and  all  night. 

In  the  evening  I  consulted  with  Mr. 
Law,  Mr.  Peter,  and  Dr.  Craik,  on  fixing 
a  day  for  depositing  the  body  in  the  vault. 
I  wished  the  ceremony  to  be  postponed 
until  the  last  of  the  week,  to  give  time  to 
some  of  the  General's  relations  to  be  here; 
but  Dr.  Craik  and  Dr.  Thornton  gave  it 
decidedly  as  their  opinion  that  considering 
the  disorder  of  which  the  General  died, 
being  of  an  inflammatory  nature,  it  would 
not  be  proper  nor  perhaps  safe  to  keep  the 
body  so  long;  and,  therefore,  Wednesday 
was  fixed  upon  for  the  funeral,  to  allow  a 
day  (Thursday)  in  case  the  weather  should 
be  unfavorable  on  Wednesday. 

Monday \  December  16,  1799. 

I  directed  the  people  to  open  the  fam- 
ily vault,  clean  away  the  rubbish  from 
about  it,  and  make  everything  decent;  or- 
dered a  door  to  be  made  to  the  vault,  in- 
stead of  closing  it  again  with  brick,  as 
had  been  the  custom;  engaged  Mr.  Inglis 
and  Mr.  McMunn  to  have  a  mahogany 
coffin  made,  lined  with  lead,  in  which  the 
body  was  to  be  deposited. 

Dr.  Craik,  Mr.  Peter,  and  Dr.  Thorn- 
ton left  us  after  breakfast,  and  Mrs. 
Stuart  and  her  daughters  came  in  the 
afternoon.  Mr.  Anderson  went  to  Alex- 
andria to  get  a  number  of  things  prepara- 
tory to  the  funeral ;  the  mourning  was 
ordered  for  the  family  domestics  and  over- 
seers.    Having  received  information  from 


Alexandria  that  the  militia,  Free  Masons, 
etc.,  were  determined  to  show  their  respect 
to  the  General's  memory  by  attending  his 
body  to  the  grave,  I  directed  provision  to 
be  prepared  for  a  large  number  of  people, 
as  some  refreshment  would  be  expected 
by  them.  Mr.  Robert  Hamilton  wrote  me 
a  letter  informing  that  a  schooner  of  his 
would  be  off  Mount  Vernon  to  fire  minute- 
guns  when  the  body  was  carrying  to  the 
grave. 

Gave  notice  of  the  time  fixed  for  the 
funeral  to  the  following  persons,  by  Mrs. 
Washington's  desire,  viz.,  Mr.  Mason  and 
family,  Mr.  Peake  and  family,  Mr.  Nickols 
and  family,  Mr.  McCarty  and  family,  Miss 
McCarty,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McClanahan, 
Lord  Fairfax  and  family,  Mr.  Triplet  and 
family,  Mr.  Anderson  and  family,  Mr. 
Diggs,  Mr.  Cockburn  and  family,  Mr. 
Massay  and  family,  Mr.  R.  West.  I 
wrote  also  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Davis  to  read 
the  service. 

Tuesday,  December  17,  1799. 

Every  preparation  for  the  mournful  cer- 
emony was  making.  Mr.  Diggs  came 
here  in  the  forenoon,  also  Mr.  Stewart, 
adjutant  to  the  Alexandria  Regiment,  to* 
view  the  ground  for  the  procession.  About 
one  o'clock  the  coffin  was  brought  from 
Alexandria  in  a  stage.  Mr.  Inglis  and 
Mr.  McMunn  accompanied  it;  also  Mr. 
Grater,  with  a  shroud.  The  body  was 
laid  in  the  coffin,  at  which  time  I  cut  off 
some  of  the  hair. 

The  mahogany  coffin  was  lined  with 
lead,  soldered  at  the  joints,  and  a  cover  of 
lead  to  be  soldered  on  after  the  body 
should  be  in  the  vault;  the  whole  was  put 
in  a  case  lined  and  covered  with  black 
cloth. 

Wednesday,  December  18,  1799. 

About  eleven  o'clock  numbers  of  people 
began  to  assemble,  to  attend  the  funeral, 
which  was  intended  to  have  been  at 
twelve;  but  as  a  great  part  of  the  troop 
expected  could  not  get  down  in  time,  it 
did  not  take  place  till  three.  Eleven  pieces 
of  artillery  were  brought  from  Alexandria, 
and  a  schooner  belonging  to  Mr.  R. 
Hamilton  came  down  and  lay  off  Mount 
Vernon  to  fire  minute-guns. 

About  three  o'clock  the  procession  be- 
gan to  move.  The  arrangements  of  the 
procession  were  made  by  Colonels  Little, 
Simms,  and  Dencale,  and  Dr.  Dick.  The 
pall-holders  were  Colonels  Little,  Simms, 
Payne,  Gilpin,  Ramsey,  and  Marsteler. 
Colonel  Blackburn   preceded  the   corpse. 


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321 


Colonel  Dcncale  marched  with  the  military. 
The  procession  moved  out  of  the  gate  at 
the  left  wing  of  the  house,  and  proceeded 
round  in  front  of  the  lawn,  and  down  to 
the  vault  on  the  right  wing  of  the  house — 
the  procession  as  follows: 

The  troops,  horse  and  foot;  music  play- 


52**^  /teat*, .  _  J!>*+j  &  en+*#zxu^  c**^. 


***fc^ 


€s+*  S>%4  T****A** 


Law,  Mr.  Peter,  Mr.  Lear,  Dr.  Craik,  Lord 
Fairfax,  Ferdo  Fairfax. 

Lodge  No.  23,  Corporation  of  Alexan- 
dria, all  other  persons,  preceded  by  Mr. 
Anderson  and  the  overseers. 

When  the  body  arrived  at  the  vault  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Davis  read  the  service  and  pro- 
nounced a  short  ex- 
I^MMHIM^  tempore  speech;  the 
Masons  performed  their 
ceremonies,  and  the 
body  was  deposited  in 
the  vault. 

After  the  ceremony 
the  company  returned 
to  the  house,  where 
they  took  some  refresh- 
ment and  retired  in 
good  order.  The  re- 
mains of  the  provisions 
were  distributed  among 
the  blacks. 

Mr.  Peter,  Dr.  Craik, 
and  Dr.  Thornton  tar- 
ried here  all  night. 

When  the  ceremony 
was  over  I  retired  to 
my  room  (leaving  to 
Mr.  Law  and  Mr.  Diggs 
the  care  of  the  com- 
pany), to  give  a  loose 
to  those  feelings  which 
I  had  been  able  to  keep 
under  control  while  I 
found  it  necessary  for 
me  to  give  a  personal 
attention  to  the  prepa- 
rations for  interring  the 
body  of  my  deceased 
friend.  What  those 
feelings  were  is  not  to 
be  told,  if  it  were  even 
possible  to  describe 
them.     .     .     . 


*£>#^L 


FACSIMILE    OK   A    PAGE    FKOM   THE    DIARY    OK    TOBIAS    LRAR. 


ing  a  solemn  dirge;  the  clergy,  viz.,  the 
Reverends  Mr.  Davis,  Mr.  Muir,  Mr. 
Moffatt,  Mr.  Addison. 

The  General's  horse  with  his  saddle, 
holster,  pistols,  etc.,  led  by  his  two 
grooms,  Cyrus  and  Wilson,  in  black. 

The  body  borne  by  the  Free  Masons  and 
officers. 

Principal  mourners,  viz.,  Mr.  Stuart 
and  Mr.  Law,  Misses  Nancy  and  Sally 
Stuart,  Miss  Fairfax,  Miss  Dennison,  Mr. 


Wednesday,  December 
25,  1799- 

This  day  sent  to  Alex- 
andria for  the  plumber  to  come  down  and 
close  the  leaden  coffin  containing  the  Gen- 
eral's body,  as  Judge  Washington  had  ar- 
rived and  did  not  incline  to  see  the  re- 
mains. The  plumbers  came;  I  went  with 
them  to  the  tomb.  I  took  a  last  look — a 
last  farewell  of  that  face,  which  still  ap- 
peared unaltered.  I  attended  the  closing 
of  the  coffin,  and  beheld  for  the  last  time 
that  face  which  I  shall  see  no  more  here, 
but  which  I  hope  to  meet  in  heaven. 


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Dkawn  uy  Charlks  Dana  Giuson. 


lie  was  »lca<l.       sec  page  u»- 

RUPERT    OF    HKNTZAU,   CHAPTER  VIII. 


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FROM    THE    MEMOIRS    OF    FRITZ    VON    TARLENHEIM. 
By  Anthony  Hope. 

Being  the  sequel  to  a  story  by  the  same  writer  entitled  "  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda." 
With  full-page  illustrations  by  Charles  Dana  Gibson. 


INTRODUCTION  AND  SUMMARY  OF  EARLIER  CHAPTERS. 


Rudolf  Rassend yll,  as  an  act  of  friendship  to  Rudolf,  King 
of  Ruritania,  his  distant  relative,  takes  advantage  of  a  close 
resemblance  between  them  and  impersonates  the  king 
through  a  grave  crisis  in  the  latter' s  affairs.  He  even  plays 
the  king's  part  as  the  prospective  husband  of  the  Princess 
Flavia.  But  in  so  doing  he  loses  his  heart,  while  the  prin- 
cess suddenly  discovers  In  her  lover  a  fervor  and  fascination 
she  had  not  found  in  him  before.  In  the  end,  the  princess 
dutifully  marries  the  real  king ;  but  thereafter,  once  a  year, 
she  sends  a  gift  and  a  verbal  message  to  Rassendyll  in  token 
of  her  remembrance  of  him.  All  this  is  told  in  the  story  of 
"  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda."  The  present  history  opens  with 
the  Princess  (now  Queen)  Flavia  come  to  such  a  pass  that 
she  dare  not  longer  trust  herself  in  sending  the  yearly  mes- 


ge  to  Rassendyll. 
be  her  last  word  to  him. 


She  therefore  writes  a  letter  that  is  to 
The  bearer,  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim. 
is  betrayed  by  his  servant  Bauer,  and  assaulted  and  robbed 
of  the  letter  by  Rupert  of  Hentzau.  Rupert's  tool,  the  Count 
of  Luzau-Rischenheim,  hurries  to  Zenda  with  a  copy  of  it,  to 
lay  before  the  king.  But  he  is  met  there  by  Rassendyll,  is 
deceived  for  the  moment  into  thinking  him  the  king,  and 
yields  him  the  copy.  He  soon  realizes  his  mistake,  out  is 
prevented  by  Colonel  Sapt  and  Bernenstein  from  coming  into 
private  communication  with  the  king.  He  is  also  made 
to  discover  the  hiding-place  of  Rupert,— 19  Kttnigstrasse, 
Strelsau.  Von  Tarlenheim.  the  meanwhile,  lies  atWinten- 
berg,  recovering  from  his  beating,  under  the  care  of  Ras- 
sendyU's  servant  James. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE    TASK    OF    THE   QUEEN'S   SERVANTS. 

THE  doctor  who  attended  me  at  Winten- 
berg  was  not  only  discreet,  but  also 
indulgent;  perhaps  he  had  the  sense  to  see 
that  little  benefit  would  come  to  a  sick  man 
from  fretting  in  helplessness  on  his  back, 
when  he  was  on  fire  to  be  afoot.  I  fear 
he  thought  the  baker's  rolling-pin  was  in 
my  mind,  but  at  any  rate  I  extorted  a 
consent  from  him,  and  was  on  my  way 
home  from  Wintenberg  not  much  more 
than  twelve  hours  after  Rudolf  Rassendyll 
left  me.     Thus  I  arrived  at  my  own  house 


in  Strelsau  on  the  same  Friday  morning 
that  witnessed  the  Count  of  Luzau-Risch- 
enheim's  twofold  interview  with  the  king 
at  the  Castle  of  Zenda.  The  moment  I 
had  arrived,  I  sent  James,  whose  assist- 
ance had  been,  and  continued  to  be,  in  all 
respects  most  valuable,  to  despatch  a 
message  to  the  constable,  acquainting  him 
with  my  whereabouts,  and  putting  myself 
entirely  at  his  disposal.  Sapt  received  this 
message  while  a  council  of  war  was  being 
held,  and  the  information  it  gave  aided  not 
a  little  in  the  arrangements  that  the  con- 
stable and  Rudolf  Rassendyll  made.  What 
these  were  I  must  now  relate,  although, 
I  fear,  at  the  risk  of  some  tediousness. 
Yet  that  council  of  war  in  Zenda  was 


Copyright,  1808,  by  A.  H.  Hawkins. 


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RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


held  under  no  common  circumstances. 
Cowed  as  Rischenheim  appeared,  they 
dared  not  let  him  out  of  their  sight. 
Rudolf  could  not  leave  the  room  into 
which  Sapt  had  locked  him;  the  king's 
absence  was  to  be  short,  and  before  he 
came  again  Rudolf  must  be  gone,  Risch- 
enheim safely  disposed  of,  and  measures 
taken  against  the  original  letter  reaching 
the  hands  for  which  the  intercepted  copy 
had  been  destined.  The  room  was  a  large 
one.  In  the  corner  farthest  from  the  door 
sat  Rischenheim,  disarmed,  dispirited,  to 
all  seeming  ready  to  throw  up  his  danger- 
ous game  and  acquiesce  in  any  terms  pre- 
sented to  him.  Just  inside  the  door, 
guarding  it,  if  need  should  be,  with  their 
lives,  were  the  other  three,  Bernenstein 
merry  and  triumphant,  Sapt  blunt  and 
cool,  Rudolf  calm  and  clear-headed.  The 
queen  awaited  the  result  of  their  deliber- 
ations in  her  apartments,  ready  to  act  as 
they  directed,  but  determined  to  see  Ru- 
dolf before  he  left  the  castle.  They  con« 
versed  together  in  low  tones.  Presently 
Sapt  took  paper  and  wrote.  This  first 
message  was  to  me,  and  it  bade  me  come 
to  Zenda  that  afternoon;  another  head  and 
another  pair  of  hands  were  sadly  needed. 
Then  followed  more  deliberation;  Rudolf 
took  up  the  talking  now,  for  his  was  the 
bold  plan  on  which  they  consulted.  Sapt 
twirled  his  moustache,  smiling  doubt- 
fully. 

"Yes,  yes,"  murmured  young  Bernen- 
stein, his  eyes  alight  with  excitement. 

"It's  dangerous,  but  the  best  thing," 
said  Rudolf,  carefully  sinking  his  voice 
yet  lower,  lest  the  prisoner  should  catch 
the  lightest  word  of  what  he  said.  "  It 
involves  my  staying  here  till  the  evening. 
Is  that  possible?" 

"No;  but  you  can  leave  here  and  hide 
in  the  forest  till  I  join  you,"  said  Sapt. 

"Till  we  join  you,"  corrected  Bernen- 
stein eagerly. 

"No,"  said  the  constable,  "you  must 
look  after  our  friend  here.  Come,  Lieu- 
tenant, it's  all  in  the  queen's  service." 

"  Besides,"  added  Rudolf  with  a  smile, 
"  neither  the  colonel  nor  I  would  let  you 
have  a  chance  at  Rupert.  He's  our  game, 
isn't  he,  Sapt?" 

The  colonel  nodded.  Rudolf  in  his  turn 
took  paper,  and  here  is  the  message  that 
he  wrote: 

44  Hoif,  19,  Kttnigstrasse,  Strelsau.— All  well.  He 
has  what  I  had,  but  wishes  to  see  what  you  have. 
He  and  I  will  be  at  the  hunting-lodge  at  ten  this 
evening.  Bring  it  and  meet  us.  The  business  is 
unsuspected. — R." 


Rudolf  threw  the  paper  across  to"  Sapt; 
Bernenstein  leant  over  the  constable's 
shoulder  and  read  it  eagerly. 

"  I  doubt  if  it  would  bring  me,"  grinned 
old  Sapt,  throwing  the  paper  down. 

"  It'll  bring  Rupert  of  Hentzau.  Why 
not  ?  He'll  know  that  the  king  will  wish 
to  meet  him  unknown  to  the  queen,  and 
also  unknown  to  you,  Sapt,  since  you 
were  my  friend:  what  place  more  likely 
for  the  king  to  choose  than  his  hunting- 
lodge,  where  he  is  accustomed  to  go  when 
he  wishes  to  be  alone  ?  The  message  will 
bring  him,  depend  on  it.  Why,  man,  Ru- 
pert would  come  even  if  he  suspected;  and 
why  should  he  suspect  ? " 

"  They  may  have  a  cipher,  he  and 
Rischenheim,"  objected  Sapt. 

"No,  or  Rupert  would  have  sent  the 
address  in  it,"  retorted  Rudolf  quickly. 

"Then — when  he  comes?"  asked  Ber- 
nenstein. 

"  He  finds  such  a  king  as  Rischenheim 
found,  and  Sapt,  here,  at  his  elbow." 

"But  he'll  know  you,"  objected  Ber- 
nenstein. 

"Aye,  I  think  he'll  know  me,"  said 
Rudolf  with  a  smile.  "  Meanwhile  wc 
send  for  Fritz  to  come  here  and  look  after 
the  king." 

"  And  Rischenheim  ? " 

"  That's  your  share,  Lieutenant.  Sapt, 
is  any  one  at  Tarlenheim  ? " 

"No.  Count  Stanislas  has  put  it  at 
Fritz's  disposal." 

"Good;  then  Fritz's  two  friends,  the 
Count  of  Luzau-Rischenheim  and  Lieuten- 
ant von  Bernenstein,  will  ride  over  there 
to-day.  The  constable  of  Zenda  will 
give  the  lieutenant  twenty-four  hours' 
leave  of  absence,  and  the  two  gentlemen 
will  pass  the  day  and  sleep  at  the  chdteau. 
They  will  pass  the  day  side  by  side,  Ber- 
nenstein, not  losing  sight  of  one  another 
for  an  instant,  and  they  will  pass  the  night 
in  the  same  room.  And  one  of  them  will 
not  close  his  eyes  nor  take  his  hand  off  the 
butt  of  his  revolver." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  said  young  Bernen- 
stein. 

"  If  he  tries  to  escape  or  give  any  alarm, 
shoot  him  through  the  head,  ride  to  the 
frontier,  get  to  safe  hiding,  and,  if  you 
can,  let  us  know." 

"Yes,"  said  Bernenstein  simply.  Sapt 
had  chosen  well,  and  the  young  officer 
made  nothing  of  the  peril  and  ruin  that 
Her  Majesty's  service  might  ask  of  him. 

A  restless  movement  and  a  weary  sigh 
from  Rischenheim  attracted  their  atten- 
tion.    He  had  strained  his  ears  to   listen 


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till  his  head  ached,  but  the  talkers  had 
been  careful,  and  he  had  heard  nothing 
that  threw  light  on  their  deliberations. 
He  had  now  given  up  his  vain  attempt, 
and  sat  in  listless  inattention,  sunk  in  an 
apathy. 

"  I  don't  think  he'll  give  you  much 
trouble,"  whispered  Sapt  to  Bernenstein, 
with  a  jerk  of  his  thumb  towards  the  cap- 
tive. 

"  Act  as  if  he  were  likely  to  give  you 
much,"  urged  Rudolf,  laying  his  hand  on 
the  lieutenant's  arm. 

"Yes,  that's  a  wise  man's  advice," 
nodded  the  constable  approvingly.  "  We 
were  well  governed,  Lieutenant,  when  this 
Rudolf  was  king." 

"Wasn't  I  also  his  loyal  subject?" 
asked  young  Bernenstein. 

"Yes,  wounded  in  my  service,"  added 
Rudolf;  for  he  remembered  how  the  boy 
— he  was  little  more  then — had  been  fired 
upon  in  the  park  of  Tarlenheim,  being 
taken  for  Mr.  Rassendyll  himself. 

Thus  their  plans  were  laid.  If  they 
could  defeat  Rupert,  they  would  have 
Rischenheim  at  their  mercy.  If  they 
could  keep  Rischenheim  out  of  the  way 
while  they  used  his  name  in  their  trick, 
they  had  a  strong  chance  of  deluding  and 
killing  Rupert.  Yes,  of  killing  him;  for 
that  and  nothing  less  was  their  purpose, 
as  the  constable  of  Zenda  himself  has 
told  me. 

"We  would  have  stood  on  no  cere- 
mony," he  said.  "The  queen's  honor 
was  at  stake,  and  the  fellow  himself  an 
assassin." 

Bernenstein  rose  and  went  out.  He  was 
gone  about  half  an  hour,  being  employed 
in  despatching  the  telegrams  to  Strelsau. 
Rudolf  and  Sapt  used  the  interval  to  ex- 
plain to  Rischenheim  what  they  proposed 
to  do  with  him.  They  asked  no  pledge, 
and  he  offered  none.  He  heard  what  they 
said  with  a  dull  uninterested  air.  When 
asked  if  he  would  go  without  resistance, 
he  laughed  a  bitter  laugh.  "  How  can  I 
resist?"  he  asked.  "I  should , have  a 
bullet  through  my  head." 

"Why,  without  doubt,"  said  Colonel 
Sapt.     "  My  lord,  you  are  very  sensible." 

"Let  me  advise  you,  my  lord,"  said 
Rudolf,  looking  down  on  him  kindly 
enough,  "  if  you  come  safe  through  this 
affair,  to  add  honor  to  your  prudence, 
and  chivalry  to  your  honor.  There  is 
still  time  for  you  to  become  a  gentleman." 

He  turned  away,  followed  by  a  glance 
of  anger  from  the  count  and  a  grating 
chuckle  from  old  Sapt. 


A  few  moments  later  Bernenstein  re- 
turned. His  errand  was  done,  and  horses 
for  himself  and  Rischenheim  were  at  the 
gate  of  the  castle.  After  a  few  final  words 
and  a  clasp  of  the  hand  from  Rudolf,  the 
lieutenant  motioned  to  his  prisoner  to  ac- 
company him,  and  they  two  walked  out 
together,  being  to  all  appearance  willing 
companions  and  in  perfect  friendliness  with 
one  another.  The  queen  herself  watched 
them  go  from  the  windows  of  her  apart- 
ment, and  noticed  that  Bernenstein  rode 
half  a  pace  behind,  and  that  his  free  hand 
rested  on  the  revolver  by  his  side. 

It  was  now  well  on  in  the  morning,  and 
the  risk  of  Rudolf's  sojourn  in  the  castle 
grew  greater  with  every  moment.  Yet  he 
was  resolved  to  see  the  queen  before  he 
went.-  This  interview  presented  no  great 
difficulties,  since  Her  Majesty  was  in  the 
habit  of  coming  to  the  constable's  room 
to  take  his  advice  or  to  consult  with  him. 
The  hardest  task  was  to  contrive  afterwards 
a  free  and  unnoticed  escape  for  Mr.  Rassen- 
dyll. To  meet  this  necessity,  the  consta- 
ble issued  orders  that  the  company  of 
guards  which  garrisoned  the  castle  should 
parade  at  one  o'clock  in  the  park,  and  that 
the  servants  should  all,  after  their  dinner, 
be  granted  permission  to  watch  the  ma- 
noeuvres. By  this  means  he  counted  on 
drawing  off  any  curious  eyes  and  allowing 
Rudolf  to  reach  the  forest  unobserved. 
They  appointed  a  rendezvous  in  a  handy 
and  sheltered  spot ;  the  one  thing  which 
they  were  compelled  to  trust  to  fortune 
was  Rudolf's  success  in  evading  chance 
encounters  while  he  waited.  Mr.  Rassen- 
dyll himself  was  confident  of  his  ability  to 
conceal  his  presence,  or,  if  need  were,  so 
to  hide  his  face  that  no  strange  tale  of  the 
king  being  seen  wandering,  alone  and 
beardless,  should  reach  the  ears  of  the 
castle  or  the  town. 

While  Sapt  was  making  his  arrange- 
ments, Queen  Flavia  came  to  the  room 
where  Rudolf  Rassendyll  was.  It  was 
then  nearing  twelve,  and  young  Bernen- 
stein had  been  gone  half  an  hour.  Sapt 
attended  her  to  the  door,  set  a  sentry  at 
the  end  of  the  passage  with  orders  that 
Her  Majesty  should  on  no  pretence  be 
disturbed,  promised  her  very  audibly  to 
return  as  soon  as  he  possibly  could,  and 
respectfully  closed  the  door  after  she  had 
entered.  The  constable  was  well  aware 
of  the  value  in  a  secret  business  of  doing 
openly  all  that  can  safely  be  done  with 
openness. 

All  of  what  passed  at  that  interview  I 
do   not  know,  but   a   part  Queen  Flavia 


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RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


herself  told  to  me,  or  rather  to  Helga,  my 
wife;  for  although  it  was  meant  to  reach 
my  ear,  yet  to  me,  a  man,  she  would  not 
disclose  it  directly.  First  she  learnt  from 
Mr.  Rassendyll  the  plans  that  had  been 
made,  and,  although  she  trembled  at  the 
danger  that  he  must  run  in  meeting  Rupert 
of  Hentzau,  she  had  such  love  of  him  and 
such  a  trust  in  his  powers  that  she 
seemed  to  doubt  little  of  his  success.  But 
she  began  to  reproach  herself  for  having 
brought  him  into  this  peril  by  writing  her 
letter.  At  this  he  took  from  his  pocket 
the  copy  that  Rischenheim  had  carried. 
He  had  found  time  to  read  it,  and  now 
before  her  eyes  he  kissed  it. 

"  Had  I  as  many  lives  as  there  are 
words,  my  queen,"  he  said  softly,  "for 
each  word  I  would  gladly  give  a  life." 

"  Ah,  Rudolf,  but  you've  only  one  life, 
and  that  more  mine  than  yours.  Did  you 
think  we  should  ever  meet  again  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  know,"  said  he;  and  now  they 
were  standing  opposite  one  another. 

"  But  I  knew,"  she  said,  her  eyes  shin- 
ing brightly;  "I  knew  always  that  we 
should  meet  once  more.  Not  how,  nor 
where,  but  just  that  we  should.  So  I 
lived,  Rudolf." 

"  God  bless  you!  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  lived  through  it  all." 

He  pressed  her  hand,  knowing  what  that 
phrase  meant  and  must  mean  for  her. 

"  Will  it  last  forever  ? "  she  asked,  sud- 
denly gripping  his  hand  tightly.  But  a 
moment  later  she  went  on:  "No,  no,  I 
mustn't  make  you  unhappy,  Rudolf.  I'm 
half  glad  I  wrote  the  letter,  and  half  glad 
they  stole  it.  It's  so  sweet  to  have  you 
lighting  for  me,  for  me  only  this  time, 
Rudolf — not  for  the  king,  for  me!  " 

"  Sweet  indeed,  my  dearest  lady.  Don't 
be  afraid:  we  shall  win." 

"You  will  win,  yes.  And  then  you'll 
go  ? "  And,  dropping  his  hand,  she  cov- 
ered her  face  with  hers. 

"I  mustn't  kiss  your  face,"  said  he, 
"but  your  hands  I  may  kiss,"  and  he 
kissed  her  hands  as  they  were  pressed 
against  her  face. 

"You  wear  my  ring,"  she  murmured 
through  her  fingers,  "  always  ? " 

"  Why,  yes,"  he  said,  with  a  little  laugh 
of  wonder  at  her  question. 

"  And  there  is — no  one  else  ? " 

"  My  queen!  "  said  he,  laughing  again. 

"  No,  I  knew  really,  Rudolf,  I  knew 
really,"  and  now  her  hands  flew  out  to- 
wards him,  imploring  his  pardon.  Then 
she  began  to  speak  quickly:  "Rudolf, 
last   night  I  had  a  dream  about  you,  a 


strange  dream.  I  seemed  to  be  in  Strelsau, 
and  all  the  people  were  talking  about  the 
king.  It  was  you  they  meant ;  you  were 
the  king.  At  last  you  were  the  king,  and 
I  was  your  queen.  But  I  could  see  you 
only  very  dimly;  you  were  somewhere, 
but  I  could  not  make  out  where;  just 
sometimes  your  face  came.  Then  I  tried 
to  tell  you  that  you  were  king — yes,  and 
Colonel  Sapt  and  Fritz  tried  to  tell  you; 
the  people,  too,  called  out  that  you  were 
king.  What  did  it  mean  ?  But  your  face, 
when  I  saw  it,  was  unmoved,  and  very 
pale,  and  you  seemed  not  to  hear  what  we 
said,  not  even  what  I  said.  It  almost 
seemed  as  if  you  were  dead,  and  yet  king. 
Ah,  you  mustn't  die,  even  to  be  king," 
and  she  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Sweetheart,"  said  he  gently,  "in 
dreams  desires  and  fears  blend  in  strange 
visions,  so  I  seemed  to  you  to  be  both 
a  king  and  a  dead  man;  but  I'm  not  a 
king,  and  I  am  a  very  healthy  fellow. 
Yet  a  thousand  thanks  to  my  dearest 
queen  for  dreaming  of  me." 

"No,  but  what  could  it  mean?"  she 
asked  again. 

"What  does  it  mean  when  I  dream 
always  of  you,  except  that  I  always  love 
you?" 

"  Was  it  only  that  ?  "  she  said,  still  un- 
convinced. 

What  more  passed  between  them  I  do 
not  know.  I  think  that  the  queen  told 
my  wife  more,  but  women  will  sometimes 
keep  women's  secrets  even  from  their  hus- 
bands; though  they  love  us,  yet  we  are 
always  in  some  sort  the  common  enemy, 
against  whom  they  join  hands.  Well,  I 
would  not  look  too  far  into  such  secrets,  for 
to  know  must  be,  I  suppose,  to  blame,  and 
who  is  himself  so  blameless  that  in  such 
a  case  he  would  be  free  with  his  cen- 
sures ? 

Yet  much  cannot  have  passed,  for  almost 
close  on  their  talk  about  the  dream  came 
Colonel  Sapt,  saying  that  the  guards  were 
in  line,  and  all  the  women  streamed  out  to 
watch  them,  while  the  men  followed,  lest 
the  gay  uniforms  should  make  them  for- 
gotten. Certainly  a  quiet  fell  over  the 
old  castle,  that  only  the  constable's  curt 
tones  broke,  as  he  bade  Rudolf  come  by 
the  back  way  to  the  stables  and  mount  his 
horse. 

"There's  no  time  to  lose,"  said  Sapt, 
and  his  eye  seemed  to  grudge  the  queen 
even  one  more  word  with  the  man  she 
loved. 

But  Rudolf  was  not  to  be  hurried  into 
leaving  her  in  such  a  fashion.     He  clapped 


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the  constable  on  the  shoulder,  laugh- 
ing, and  bidding  him  think  of  what  he 
would  for  a  moment;  then  he  went  again 
to  the  queen  and  would  have  knelt  before 
her,  but  that  she  would  not  suffer,  and 
they  stood  with  hands  locked.  Then 
suddenly  she  drew  him  to  her  and  kissed 
his  forehead,  saying:  "God  go  with  you, 
Rudolf  my  knight." 

Thus  she  turned  away,  letting  him  go. 
He  walked  towards  the  door;  but  a  sound 
arrested  his  steps,  and  he  waited  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  his  eyes  on  the  door. 
Old  Sapt  flew  to  the  threshold,  his  sword 
half-way  out  of  its  sheath.  There  was  a 
step  coming  down  the  passage,  and  the 
feet  stopped  outside  the  door. 

44  Is  it  the  king  ?  "  whispered  Rudolf. 

41 1  don't  know,"  said  Sapt. 

41  No,  it's  not  the  king,"  came  in  un- 
hesitating certainty  from  Queen  Flavia. 

They  waited:  a  low  knock  sounded  on 
the  door.  Still  for  a  moment  they  waited. 
The  knock  was  repeated  urgently. 

44  We  must  open,"  said  Sapt.  44  Behind 
the  curtain  with  you,  Rudolf." 

The  queen  sat  down,  and  Sapt  piled  a 
heap  of  papers  before  her,  that  it  might 
seem  as  though  he  and  she  transacted 
business.  But  his  precautions  were  inter- 
rupted by  a  hoarse,  eager,  low  cry  from 
outside,  "  Quick!  in  God's  name,  quick!  " 

They  knew  the  voice  for  Bernenstein's. 
The  queen  sprang  up,  Rudolf  came  out, 
Sapt  turned  the  key.  The  lieutenant  en- 
tered, hurried,  breathless,  pale. 

44  Well?"  asked  Sapt. 

44  He  has  got  away?"  cried  Rudolf, 
guessing  in  a  moment  the  misfortune  that 
had  brought  Bernenstein  back. 

44  Yes,  he's  got  away.  Just  as  we  left  the 
town  and  reached  the  open  road  towards 
Tarlenheim,  he  said,  *  Are  we  going  to 
walk  all  the  way? '  I  was  not  loath  to  go 
quicker,  and  we  broke  into  a  trot.  But 
I — ah,  what  a  pestilent  fool  lam!" 

44  Never  mind  that — go  on." 

44  Why,  I  was  thinking  of  him  and  my 
task,  and  having  a  bullet  ready  for  him, 
and " 

"Of  everything  except  your  horse?" 
guessed  Sapt,  with  a  grim  smile. 

44  Yes;  and  the  horse  pecked  and  stum- 
bled, and  I  fell  forward  on  his  neck.  I 
put  out  my  arm  to  recover  myself,  and — I 
jerked  my  revolver  on  to  the  ground." 

44  And  he  saw?" 

44  He  saw,  curse  him.  For  a  second  he 
waited;  then  he  smiled,  and  turned,  and 
dug  his  spurs  in  and  was  off,  straight 
across  country  towards  Strelsau.     Well,  I 


was  off  my  horse  in  a  moment,  and  I  fired 
three  times  after  him." 

44 You  hit?"  asked  Rudolf. 

44 1  think  so.  He  shifted  the  reins  from 
one  hand  to  the  other  and  wrung  his  arm. 
I  mounted  and  made  after  him,  but  his 
horse  was  better  than  mine  and  he  gained 
ground.  We  began  to  meet  people,  too, 
and  I  didn't  dare  to  fire  again.  So  I  left 
him  and  rode  here  to  tell  you.  Never 
employ  me  again,  Constable,  so  long  as 
you  live,"  and  the  young  man's  face  was 
twisted  with  misery  and  shame,  as,  for- 
getting the  queen's  presence,  he  sank 
despondently  into  a  chair. 

Sapt  took  no  notice  of  his  self-re- 
proaches. But  Rudolf  went  and  laid  a 
hand  on  his  shoulder. 

44  It  was  an  accident,"  he  said.  44  No 
blame  to  you." 

The  queen  rose  and  walked  towards  him; 
Bernenstein  sprang  to  his  feet. 

44  Sir,"  said  she,  "it  is  not  success  but 
effort  that  should  gain  thanks,"  and  she 
held  out  her  hand. 

Well,  he  was  young;  I  do  not  laugh  at 
the  sob  that  escaped  his  lips  as  he  turned 
his  head. 

44  Let  me  try  something  else!"  he  im- 
plored. 

44  Mr.  Rassendyll,"  said  the  queen, 
"  you'll  do  my  pleasure  by  employing  this 
gentleman  in  my  further  service.  I  am 
already  deep  in  his  debt,  and  would  be 
deeper." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence. 

44  Well,  but  what's  to  be  done  ?  "  asked 
Colonel  Sapt.     "  He's  gone  to  Strelsau." 

44  He'll  stop  Rupert,"  mused  Mr.  Ras- 
sendyll. 

44  He  may  or  he  mayn't." 

44  It's  odds  that  he  will." 

44  We  must  provide  for  both." 

Sapt  and  Rudolf  looked  at  one  an- 
other. 

44  You  must  be  here  ?  "  asked  Rudolf  of 
the  constable.  "Well,  I'll  go  to  Strel- 
sau." His  smile  broke  out.  4*  That  is,  if 
Bernenstein  '11  lend  me  a  hat." 

The  queen  made  no  sound;  but  she 
came  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm.  He 
looked  at  her,  smiling  still. 

44  Yes,  I'll  go  to  Strelsau,"  said  he, 
44  and  I'll  find  Rupert,  aye,  and  Rischen- 
heim  too,  if  they're  in  the  city." 

44  Take  me  with  you,"  cried  Bernen- 
stein eagerly. 

Rudolf  glanced  at  Sapt.  The  constable 
shook  his  head.     Bernenstein's  face  fell. 

"  It's  not  that,  boy,"  said  old  Sapt,  half 
in  kindness,   half   in   impatience.      "  We 


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want  you  here.  Suppose  Rupert  comes 
here  with  Rischenheim !  " 

The  idea  was  new,  but  the  event  was  by 
no  means  unlikely. 

11  But  you'll  be  here,  Constable,"  urged 
Bernenstein,  "and  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim 
will  arrive  in  an  hour." 

"  Aye,  young  man,"  said  Sapt,  nodding 
his  head;  "but  when  \  fight  Rupert  of 
Hentzau,  I  like  to  have  a  man  to  spare," 
and  he  grinned  broadly,  being  no  whit 
afraid  of  what  Bernenstein  might  think  of 
his  courage.  "  Now  go  and  get  him  a 
hat,"  he  added,  and  the  lieutenant  ran  off 
on  the  errand. 

But  the  queen  cried: 

"Are  you  sending  Rudolf  alone,  then 
— alone  against  two  ?  " 

"Yes,  madam,  if  I  may  command  the 
campaign,"  said  Sapt.  "I  take  it  he 
should  be  equal  to  the  task." 

He  could  not  know  the  feelings  of  the 
queen's  heart.  She  dashed  her  hand  across 
her  eyes,  and  turned  in  mute  entreaty  to 
Rudolf  Rassendyll. 

"  I  must  go,"  he  said  softly.  "We 
can't  spare  Bernenstein,  and  I  mustn't 
stay  here." 

She  said  no  more.  Rudolf  walked 
across  to  Sapt. 

"  Take  me  to  the  stables.  Is  the  horse 
good  ?  I  daren't  take  the  train.  Ah, 
here's  the  lieutenant  and  the  hat." 

"  The  horse  '11  get  you  there  to-night," 
said  Sapt.  "  Come  along.  Bernenstein, 
stay  with  the  queen." 

At  the  threshold  Rudolf  paused,  and, 
turning  his  head,  glanced  once  at  Queen 
Flavia,  who  stood  still  as  a  statue,  watch- 
ing him  go.  Then  he  followed  the  con- 
stable, who  brought  him  where  the  horse 
waj.  Sapt's  devices  for  securing  freedom 
from  observation  had  served  well,  and  Ru- 
dolf mounted  unmolested. 

"The  hat  doesn't  fit  very  well,"  said 
Rudolf.       % 

"  Like  a  crown  better,  eh  ?  "  suggested 
the  colonel. 

Rudolf  laughed  as  he  asked,  "Well, 
what  are  my  orders  ?  " 

"  Ride  round  by  the  moat  to  the  road 
at  the  back;  then  through  the  forest  to 
Hofbau;  you  know  your  way  after  that. 
You  mustn't  reach  Strelsau  till  it's  dark. 
Then,  if  you  want  a  shelter " 

"  To  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim's,  yes!  From 
there  I  shall  go  straight  to  the  address." 

"Aye.     And Rudolf!" 

"Yes?" 

"  Make  an  end  of  him  this  time." 

"  Please  God.      But  if  he  goes  to  the 


lodge  ?  He  will,  unless  Rischenheim  stops 
him." 

"I'll  be  there  in  case,  but  I  think 
Rischenheim  will  stop  him." 

"If  he  comes  here? " 

"  Young  Bernenstein  will  die  before  he 
suffers  him  to  reach  the  king." 

"Sapt!" 

"Aye?" 

"Be  kind  to  her." 

"  Bless  the  man,  yes!  " 

"Good-by." 

"And  good  luck." 

At  a  swift  canter  Rudolf  darted  round 
the  drive  that  led  from  the  stables,  by  the 
moat,  to  the  old  forest  road  behind  ;  five 
minutes  brought  him  within  the  shelter  of 
the  trees,  and  he  rode  on  confidently, 
meeting  nobody,  save  here  and  there  a 
yokel,  who,  seeing  a  man  ride  hard  with 
his  head  averted,  took  no  more  notice  of 
him  than  to  wish  that  he  himself  could 
ride  abroad  instead  of  being  bound  to 
work.  Thus  Rudolf  Rassendyll  set  out 
again  for  the  walls  of  Strelsau,  through 
the  forest  of  Zenda.  And  ahead  of  him, 
with  an  hour's  start,  galloped  the  Count 
of  Luzau-Rischenheim,  again  a  man,  and 
a  man  with  resolution,  resentment,  and 
revenge  in  his  heart. 

The  game  was  afoot  now;  who  could 
tell  the  issue  of  it  ? 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   MESSAGE   OF   SIMON    THE   HUNTSMAN. 

I  received  the  telegram  sent  to  me  by 
the  Constable  of  Zenda  at  my  own  house 
in  Strelsau  about  one  o'clock.  It  is  need- 
less to  say  that  I  made  immediate  prepara- 
tions to  obey  his  summons.  My  wife  in- 
deed protested — and  I  must  admit  with 
some  show  of  reason — that  I  was  unfit  to 
endure  further  fatigues,  and  that  my  bed 
was  the  only  proper  place  for  me.  I  could 
not  listen;  and  James,  Mr.  Rassendyll's 
servant,  being  informed  of  the  summons, 
was  at  my  elbow  with  a  card  of  the  trains 
from  Strelsau  to  Zenda,  without  waiting 
for  any  order  from  me.  I  had  talked  to 
this  man  in  the  course  of  our  journey,  and 
discovered  that  he  had  been  in  the  service 
of  Lord  Topham,  formerly  British  Ambas- 
sador to  the  Court  of  Ruritania.  How 
far  he  was  acquainted  with  the  secrets  of 
his  present  master,  I  did  not  know,  but 
his  familiarity  with  the  city  and  the  country 
made  him  of  great  use  to  me.  We  discov- 
ered, to  our  annoyance,  that  no  train  left 


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till  four  o'clock,  and  then  only  a  slow 
one;  the  result  was  that  we  could  not  ar- 
rive at  the  castle  till  past  six  o'clock. 
This  hour  was  not  absolutely  too  late,  but 
I  was  of  course  eager  to  be  on  the  scene 
of  action  as  early  as  possible. 

41  You'd  better  see  if  you  can  get  a  spe- 
cial, my  lord,"  James  suggested;  "I'll 
run  on  to  the  station  and  arrange  about  it. ' ' 

I  agreed.  Since  I  was  known  to  be  of- 
ten employed  in  the  king's  service,  I  could 
take  a  special  train  without  exciting  re- 
mark. James  set  out,  and  about  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  later  I  got  into  my  carriage  to 
drive  to  the  station.  Just  as  the  horses 
were  about  to  start,  however,  the  butler 
approached  me. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  lord,"  said  he, 
••  but  Bauer  didn't  return  with  your  lord- 
ship.    Is  he  coming  back  ?  " 

"No,"  said  I.  "Bauer  was  grossly 
impertinent  on  the  journey,  and  I  dis- 
missed him." 

"Those  foreign  men  are  never  to  be 
trusted,  my  lord.  And  your  lordship's 
bag?" 

"  What,  hasn't  it  come  ? "  I  cried.  "  I 
told  him  to  send  it." 

"  It's  not  arrived,  my  lord." 

"  Can  the  rogue  have  stolen  it  ? "  I  ex- 
claimed indignantly. 

"  If  your  lordship  wishes  it,  I  will  men- 
tion the  matter  to  the  police." 

I  appeared  to  consider  this  proposal. 

"Wait  till  I  come  back,"  I  ended  by 
saying.  "  The  bag  may  come,  and  I  have 
no  reason  to  doubt  the  fellow's  honesty." 

This,  I  thought,  would  be  the  end  of 
my  connection  with  Master  Bauer.  He 
had  served  Rupert's  turn,  and  would  now 
disappear  from  the  scene.  Indeed  it  may 
be  that  Rupert  would  have  liked  to  dis- 
pense with  further  aid  from  him;  but  he 
had  few  whom  he  could  trust,  and  was 
compelled  to  employ  those  few  more  than 
once.  At  any  rate  he  had  not  done  with 
Bauer,  and  I  very  soon  received  proof  of 
the  fact.  My  house  is  a  couple  of  miles 
from  the  station,  and  we  had  to  pass 
through  a  considerable  part  of  the  old 
town,  where  the  streets  are  narrow  and 
tortuous  and  progress  necessarily  slow. 
We  had  just  entered  the  Kdnigstrasse  (and 
it  must  be  remembered  that  I  had  at  that 
time  no  reason  for  attaching  any  special 
significance  to  this  locality),  and  were 
waiting  impatiently  for  a  heavy  dray  to 
move  out  of  our  path,  when  my  coach- 
man, who  had  overheard  the  butler's  con- 
versation with  me,  leant  down  from  his 
box  with  an  air  of  lively  excitement. 


"My  lord,"  he  cried,  "there's  Bauer 
— there,  passing  the  butcher's  shop!  " 

I  sprang  up  in  the  carriage;  the  man's 
back  was  towards  me,  and  he  was  thread- 
ing his  way  through  the  people  with  a 
quick,  stealthy  tread.  I  believe  he  must 
have  seen  me,  and  was  slinking  away  as 
fast  as  he  could.  I  was  not  sure  of  him, 
but  the  coachman  banished  my  doubt  by 
saying,  "  It's  Bauer — it's  certainly  Bauer, 
my  lord." 

I  hardly  stayed  to  form  a  resolution.  If 
I  could  catch  this  fellow  or  even  see  where 
he  went,  a  most  important  clue  as  to  Ru- 
pert's doings  and  whereabouts  might  be 
put  into  my  hand.  I  leapt  out  of  the  car- 
riage, bidding  the  man  wait,  and  at  once 
started  in  pursuit  of  my  former  servant. 
I  heard  the  coachman  laugh:  he  thought, 
no  doubt,  that  anxiety  for  the  missing  bag 
inspired  such  eager  haste. 

The  numbers  of  the  houses  in  the  Kdnig- 
strasse begin,  as  anybody  familiar  with 
Strelsau  will  remember,  at  the  end  adjoin- 
ing the  station.  The  street  being  a  long 
one,  intersecting  almost  the  entire  length 
of  the  old  town,  I  was,  when  I  set  out  after 
Bauer,  opposite  number  300  or  thereabouts, 
and  distant  nearly  three-quarters  of  a  mile 
from  that  important  number  nineteen,  to- 
wards which  Bauer  was  hurrying  like  a 
rabbit  to  its  burrow.  I  knew  nothing  and 
thought  nothing  of  where  he  was  going; 
to  me  nineteen  was  no  more  than  eighteen 
or  twenty;  my  only  desire  was  to  overtake 
him.  I  had  no  clear  idea  of  what  I  meant 
to  do  when  I  caught  him,  but  I  had  some 
hazy  notion  of  intimidating  him  into  giv- 
ing up  his  secret  by  the  threat  of  an  accu- 
sation of  theft.  In  fact,  he  had  stolen 
my  bag.  After  him  I  went;  and  he  knew 
that  I  was  after  him.  I  saw  him  turn  bis 
face  over  his  shoulder,  and  then  bustle  on 
faster.  Neither  of  us,  pursued  or  pursuer, 
dared  quite  to  run;  as  it  was,  our  eager 
strides  and  our  carelessness  of  collisions 
created  more  than  enough  attention.  But 
I  had  one  advantage.  Most  folk  in  Strel- 
sau knew  me,  and  many  got  out  of  my 
way  who  were  by  no  means  inclined  to 
pay  a  like  civility  to  Bauer.  Thus  I  began 
to  gain  on  him,  in  spite  of  his  haste;  I  had 
started  fifty  yards  behind,  but  as  we  neared 
the  end  of  the  street  and  saw  the  station 
ahead  of  us,  not  more  than  twenty  sepa- 
rated me  from  him.  Then  an  annoying 
thing  happened.  I  ran  full  into  a  stout 
old  gentleman;  Bauer  had  run  into  him 
before,  and  he  was  standing,  as  people 
will,  staring  in  resentful  astonishment  at 
his  first  assailant's  retreating  figure.     The 


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RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


second  collision  immensely  increased  his 
vexation ;  for  me  it  had  yet  worse  conse- 
quences; for  when  I  disentangled  myself, 
Bauer  was  gone!  There  was  not  a  sign  of 
him;  I  looked  up:  the  number  of  the 
house  above  me  was  twenty-three;  but  the 
door  was  shut.  I  walked  on  a  few  paces, 
past  twenty-two,  past  twenty-one — and  up 
to  nineteen.  Nineteen  was  an  old  house, 
with  a  dirty,  dilapidated  front  and  an  air 
almost  dissipated.  It  was  a  shop  where 
provisions  of  the  cheaper  sort  were  on 
view  in  the  window,  things  that  one  has 
never  eaten  but  has  heard  of  people  eat- 
ing. The  shop-door  stood  open,  but  there 
was  nothing  to  connect  Bauer  with  the 
house.  Muttering  an  oath  in  my  exasper- 
ation, I  was  about  to  pass  on,  when  an  old 
woman  put  her  head  out  of  the  door  and 
looked  round.  I  was  full  in  front  of  her. 
I  am  sure  that  the  old  woman  started 
slightly,  and  I  think  that  I  did.  For  I 
knew  her  and  she  knew  me.  She  was  old 
Mother  Holf,  one  of  whose  sons,  Johann, 
had  betrayed  to  us  the  secret  of  the  dun- 
geon at  Zenda,  while  the  other  had  died 
by  Mr.  Rassendyll's  hand  by  the  side  of 
the  great  pipe  that  masked  the  king's 
window.  Her  presence  might  mean 
nothing,  yet  it  seemed  at  once  to  connect 
the  house  with  the  secret  of  the  past  and 
the  crisis  of  the  present. 

She  recovered  herself  in  a  moment,  and 
curtseyed  to  me. 

"  Ah,  Mother  Holf,"  said  I,  "  how  long 
is  it  since  you  set  up  shop  in  Strelsau  ?  " 

"  About  six  months,  my  lord,"  she  an- 
swered, with  a  composed  air  and  arms 
akimbo. 

"I  have  not  come  across  you  before," 
said  I,  looking  keenly  at  her. 

"  Such  a  poor  little  shop  as  mine  would 
not  be  likely  to  secure  your  lordship's  pat- 
ronage," she  answered,  in  a  humility  that 
seemed  only  half  genuine. 

I  looked  up  at  the  windows.  They  were 
all  closed  and  had  their  wooden  lattices 
shut.  The  house  was  devoid  of  any  signs 
of  life. 

"You've  a  good  house  here,  mother, 
though  it  wants  a  splash  of  paint,"  said 
I.  "Do  you  live  all  alone  in  it  with  your 
daughter?"  For  Max  was  dead  and 
Johann  abroad,  and  the  old  woman  had, 
as  far  as  I  knew,  no  other  children. 

"  Sometimes;  sometimes  not,"  said  she. 
"I  let  lodgings  to  single  men  when  I 
can." 

"Full  now?" 

"  Not  a  soul,  worse  luck,  my  lord." 

Then  I  shot  an  arrow  at  a  venture. 


"  The  man  who  came  in  just  now,  then, 
was  he  only  a  customer  ?  " 

"  I  wish  a  customer  had  come  in,  but 
there  has  been  nobody,"  she  replied  in 
surprised  tones. 

I  looked  full  in  her  eyes;  she  met  mine 
with  a  blinking  imperturbability.  There 
is  no  face  so  inscrutable  as  a  clever  old 
woman's  when  she  is  on  her  guard.  And 
her  fat  body  barred  the  entrance;  I  could 
not  so  much  as  see  inside,  while  the  win- 
dow, choked  full  with  pigs'  trotters  and 
such-like  dainties,  helped  me  very  little. 
If  the  fox  were  there,  he  had  got  to  earth 
and  I  could  not  dig  him  out. 

At  this  moment  I  saw  James  approach- 
ing hurriedly.  He  was  looking  up  the 
street,  no  doubt  seeking  my  carriage  and 
chafing  at  its  delay.  An  instant  later  he 
saw  me. 

"My  lord,"  he  said,  "your  train  will 
be  ready  in  five  minutes;  if  it  doesn't 
start  then,  the  line  must  be  closed  for  an- 
other half-hour." 

I  perceived  a  faint  smile  on  the  old 
woman's  face.  I  was  sure  then  that  I  was 
on  the  track  of  Bauer,  and  probably  of 
more  than  Bauer.  But  my  first  duty  was 
to  obey  orders  and  get  to  Zenda.  Be- 
sides, I  could  not  force  my  way  in,  there 
in  open  daylight,  without  a  scandal  that 
would  have  set  all  the  long  ears  in  Strel- 
sau aprick.  I  turned  away  reluctantly. 
I  did  not  even  know  for  certain  that 
Bauer  was  within,  and  thus  had  no  infor- 
mation of  value  to  carry  with  me. 

"  If  your  lordship  would  kindly  recom- 
mend me — "  said  the  old  hag. 

"Yes,  I'll  recommend  you,"  said  I. 
"I'll  recommend  you  to  be  careful  whom 
you  take  for  lodgers.  There  are  queer 
fish  about,  mother." 

"I  take  the  money  beforehand,"  she 
retorted  with  a  grin;  and  I  was  as  sure 
that  she  was  in  the  plot  as  of  my  own  ex- 
istence. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done;  James's 
face  urged  me  towards  the  station.  I 
turned  away.  But  at  this  instant  a  loud, 
merry  laugh  sounded  from  inside  the  house. 
I  started,  and  this  time  violently.  The 
old  woman's  brow  contracted  in  a  frown, 
and  her  lips  twitched  for  a  moment;  then 
her  face  regained  its  composure;  but  I 
knew  the  laugh,  and  she  must  have 
guessed  that  I  knew  it.  Instantly  I  tried 
to  appear  as  though  I  had  noticed  nothing. 
I  nodded  to  her  carelessly,  and  bidding 
James  follow  me,  set  out  for  the  station. 
But  as  we  reached  the  platform,  I  laid  my 
hand  on  his  shoulder,  saying: 

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ANTHONY  HOPE. 


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"The  Count  of  Hentzau  is  in  that 
house,  James." 

He  looked  at  me  without  surprise;  he 
was  as  hard  to  stir  to  wonder  as  old  Sapt 
himself. 

"  Indeed,  sir.    Shall  I  stay  and  watch  ?  " 

"  No,  come  with  me,"  I  answered.  To 
tell  the  truth,  I  thought  that  to  leave  him 
alone  in  Strelsau  to  watch  that  house  was 
in  all  likelihood  to  sign  his  death  warrant, 
and  I  shrank  from  imposing  the  duty  on 
him.  Rudolf  might  send  him  if  he  would; 
I  dared  not.  So  we  got  into  our  train,  and 
I  suppose  that  my  coachman,  when  he  had 
looked  long  enough  for  me,  went  home. 
I  forgot  to  ask  him  afterwards.  Very 
likely  he  thought  it  a  fine  joke  to  see  his 
master  hunting  a  truant  servant  and  a  tru- 
ant bag  through  the  streets  in  broad  day- 
light. Had  he  known  the  truth,  he  would 
have  been  as  interested,  though,  maybe, 
less  amused. 

I  arrived  at  the  town  of  Zenda  at  half- 
past  three,  and  was  in  the  castle  before 
four.  I  may  pass  over  the  most  kind  and 
gracious  words  with  which  the  queen  re- 
ceived me.  Every  sight  of  her  face  and 
every  sound  of  her  voice  bound  a  man 
closer  to  her  service,  and  now  she  made 
me  feel  that  I  was  a  poor  fellow  to  have 
lost  her  letter  and  yet  to  be  alive.  But 
she  would  hear  nothing  of  such  talk, 
choosing  rather  to  praise  the  little  I  had 
done  than  to  blame  the  great  thing  in 
which  I  had  failed.  Dismissed  from  her 
presence,  I  flew  open-mouthed  to  Sapt.  I 
found  him  in  his  room  with  Bernenstein, 
and  had  the  satisfaction  of  learning  that 
my  news  of  Rupert's  whereabouts  was 
confirmed  by  his  information.  I  was  also 
made  acquainted  with  all  that  had  been 
done,  even  as  I  have  already  related  it, 
from  the  first  successful  trick  played  on 
Rischenheim  to  the  moment  of  his  unfor- 
tunate escape.  But  my  face  grew  long 
and  apprehensive  when  I  heard  that  Ru- 
dolf Rassendyll  had  gone  alone  to  Strel- 
sau to  put  his  head  in  that  lion's  mouth  in 
the  Kdnigstrasse. 

"  There  will  be  three  of  them  there — 
Rupert,  Rischenheim,  and  my  rascal  Bau- 
er," said  I. 

"  As  to  Rupert,  we  don't  know,"  Sapt 
reminded  me.  "  He'll  be  there  if  Risch- 
enheim arrives  in  time  to  tell  him  the 
truth.  But  we  have  also  to  be  ready  for 
him  here,  and  at  the  hunting-lodge.  Well, 
we're  ready  for  him  wherever  he  is:  Ru- 
dolf will  be  in  Strelsau,  you  and  I  will 
ride  to  the  lodge,  and  Bernenstein  will  be 
here  with  the  queen." 


"  Only  one  here  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Ay,  but  a  good  one,"  said  the  con- 
stable, clapping  Bernenstein  on  the  shoul- 
der. "We  shan't  be  gone  above  four 
hours,  and  those  while  the  king  is  safe  in 
his  bed.  Bernenstein  has  only  to  refuse 
access  to  him,  and  stand  to  that  with  his 
life  till  we  come  back.  You're  equal  to 
that,  eh,  Lieutenant?" 

I  am,  by  nature,  a  cautious  man,  and 
prone  to  look  at  the  dark  side  of  every 
prospect  and  the  risks  of  every  enter- 
prise; but  I  could  not  see  what  better  dis- 
positions were  possible  against  the  attack 
that  threatened  us.  Yet  I  was  sorely  un- 
easy concerning  Mr.  Rassendyll. 

Now,  after  all  our  stir  and  runnings  to 
and  fro,  came  an  hour  or  two  of  peace. 
We  employed  the  time  in  having  a  good 
meal,  and  it  was  past  five  when,  our  repast 
finished,  we  sat  back  in  our  chairs  enjoying 
cigars.  James  had  waited  on  us,  quietly 
usurping  the  office  of  the  constable's  own 
servant,  and  thus  we  had  been  able  to  talk 
freely.  The  man's  calm  confidence  in  his 
master  and  his  master's  fortune  also  went 
far  to  comfort  me. 

"The  king  should  be  back  soon,"  said 
Sapt  at  last,  with  a  glance  at  his  big,  old- 
fashioned  silver  watch.  "Thank  God, 
he'll  be  too  tired  to  sit  up  long.  We  shall 
be  free  by  nine  o'clock,  Fritz.  I  wish 
young  Rupert  would  come  to  the  lodge !  " 
And  the  colonel's  face  expressed  a  lively 
pleasure  at  the  idea. 

Six  o'clock  struck,  and  the  king  did  not 
appear.  A  few  moments  later,  a  message 
came  from  the  queen,  requesting  our 
presence  on  the  terrace  in  front  of  the 
chdteau.  The  place  commanded  a  view  of 
the  road  by  which  the  king  would  ride 
back,  and  we  found  the  queen  walking 
restlessly  up  and  down,  considerably  dis- 
quieted by  the  lateness  of  his  return.  In 
such  a  position  as  ours,  every  unusual  or 
unforeseen  incident  magnifies  its  possible 
meaning,  and  invests  itself  with  a  sinister 
importance  which  would  at  ordinary  times 
seem  absurd.  We  three  shared  the 
queen's  feelings,  and  forgetting  the  many 
chances  of  the  chase,  any  one  of  which 
would  amply  account  for  the  king's  delay, 
fell  to  speculating  on  remote  possibilities 
of  disaster.  He  might  have  met  Risch- 
enheim— though  they  had  ridden  in  oppo- 
site directions;  Rupert  might  have  inter- 
cepted him — though  no  means  could  have 
brought  Rupert  to  the  forest  so  early. 
Our  fears  defeated  common  sense,  and  our 
conjectures  outran  possibility.  Sapt  was 
the    first    to    recover    from    this    foolish 


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RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


mood,  and  he  rated  us  soundly,  not  spar- 
ing even  the  queen  herself.  With  a  laugh 
we  regained  some  of  our  equanimity,  and 
felt  rather  ashamed  of  our  weakness. 

"  Still  it's  strange  that  he  doesn't 
come,"  murmured  the  queen,  shading  her 
eyes  with  her  hand,  and  looking  along  the 
road  to  where  the  dark  masses  of  the 
forest  trees  bounded  our  view.  It  was 
already  dusk,  but  not  so  dark  but  that  we 
could  have  seen  the  king's  party  as  soon 
as  it  came  into  the  open. 

If  the  king's  delay  seemed  strange  at 
six,  it  was  stranger  at  seven,  and  by  eight 
most  strange.  We  had  long  since  ceased 
to  talk  lightly;  by  now  we  had  lapsed  into 
silence.  Sapt's  scoldings  had  died  away. 
The  queen,  wrapped  in  her  furs  (for  it  was 
very  cold),  sat  sometimes  on  a  seat,  but 
oftener  paced  restlessly  to  and  fro.  Even- 
ing had  fallen.  We  did  not  know  what 
to  do,  nor  even  whether  we  ought  to  do 
anything.  Sapt  would  not  own  to  sharing 
our  worst  apprehensions,  but  his  gloomy 
silence  in  face  of  our  surmises  witnessed 
that  he  was  in  his  heart  as  disturbed  as  we 
were.  For  my  part  I  had  come  to  the  end 
of  my  endurance,  and  I  cried,  "  For  God's 
sake,  let's  act!  Shall  I  go  and  seek 
him?" 

"A  needle  in  a  bundle  of  hay,"  said 
Sapt  with  a  shrug. 

But  at  this  instant  my  ear  caught  the 
sound  of  horses  cantering  on  the  road 
from  the  forest ;  at  the  same  moment  Ber- 
nenstein  cried,  "  Here  they  come!  "  The 
queen  paused,  and  we  gathered  round  her. 
The  horse-hoofs  came  nearer.  Now  we 
made  out  the  figures  of  three  men:  they 
were  the  king's  huntsmen,  and  they  rode 
along  merrily,  singing  a  hunting  chorus. 
The  sound  of  it  brought  relief  to  us;  so 
far  at  least  there  was  no  disaster.  But 
why  was  not  the  king  with  them  ? 

"  The  king  is  probably  tired,  and  is  fol- 
lowing more  slowly,  madam,"  suggested 
Bernenstein. 

This  explanation  seemed  very  probable, 
and  the  lieutenant  and  I,  as  ready  to  be 
hopeful  on  slight  grounds  as  fearful  on 
small  provocation,  joyfully  accepted  it. 
Sapt,  less  easily  turned  to  either  mood, 
said,  "Aye,  but  let  us  hear,"  and  raising 
his  voice,  called  to  the  huntsmen,  who 
had  now  arrived  in  the  avenue.  One  of 
them,  the  king's  chief  huntsman  Simon, 
gorgeous  in  his  uniform  of  green  and 
gold,  came  swaggering  along,  and  bowed 
low  to  the  queen. 

"Well,  Simon,  where  is  the  king  ? "  she 
asked,  trying  to  smile. 


"The  king,  madam,  has  sent  a  mes- 
sage by  me  to  your  majesty." 

44  Pray,  deliver  it  to  me,  Simon." 

"  I  will,  madam.  The  king  has  enjoyed 
fine  sport;  and,  indeed,  madam,  if  I  may 
say  so  for  myself,  a  better  run " 

"You  may  say,  friend  Simon,"  inter- 
rupted the  constable,  tapping  him  on  the 
shoulder,  "  anything  you  like  for  yourself, 
but,  as  a  matter  of  etiquette,  the  king's 
message  should  come  first." 

"Oh,  aye,  Constable,"  said  Simon. 
"  You're  always  so  down  on  a  man,  aren't 
you  ?  Well,  then,  madam,  the  king  has 
enjoyed  fine  sport.  For  we  started  a  boar 
at  eleven,  and " 

"Is  this  the  king's  message,  Simon?" 
asked  the  queen,  smiling  in  genuine 
amusement,  but  impatiently. 

"Why,  no,  madam,  not  precisely  his 
majesty's  message." 

"Then  get  to  it,  man,  in  heaven's 
name,"  growled  Sapt  testily.  For  here 
were  we  four  (the  queen,  too,  one  of  us!) 
on  tenterhooks,  while  the  fool  boasted 
about  the  sport  that  he  had  shown  the 
king.  For  every  boar  in  the  forest  Simon 
took  as  much  credit  as  though  he,  and  not 
Almighty  God,  had  made  the  animal.  It 
is  the  way  with  such  fellows. 

Simon  became  a  little  confused  under 
the  combined  influence  of  his  own  seduc- 
tive memories  and  Sapt's  brusque  exhor- 
tations. 

"  As  I  was  saying,  madam,"  he  resumed, 
"  the  boar  led  us  a  long  way,  but  at  last 
the  hounds  pulled  him  down,  and  his 
majesty  himself  gave  the  coup  de  grdce. 
Well,  then  it  was  very  late 

"It's  no  earlier  now,"  grumbled  the 
constable. 

"And  the  king,  although  indeed,  mad- 
am, his  majesty  was  so  gracious  as  to 
say  that  no  huntsman  whom  his  majesty 
had  ever  had,  had  given  his  majesty " 

"  God  help  us!  "  groaned  the  constable. 

Simon  shot  an  apprehensive  apologetic 
glance  at  Colonel  Sapt.  The  constable 
was  frowning  ferociously.  In  spite  of  the 
serious  matters  in  hand  I  could  not  for- 
bear a  smile,  while  young  Bernenstein 
broke  into  an  audible  laugh,  which  he 
tried  to  smother  with  his  hand. 

"  Yes,  the  king  was  very  tired,  Simon  ?  " 
said  the  queen,  at  once  encouraging  him 
and  bringing  him  back  to  the  point  with  a 
woman's  ^kill. 

"  Yes,  madam,  the  king  was  very  tired; 
and  as  we  chanced  to  kill  near  the  hunt- 
ing-lodge  " 

I  do  not  know  whether  Simon  noticed 


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ANTHONY  HOPE. 


333 


any  change  in  the  manner  of  his  audi- 
ence. But  the  queen  looked  up  with 
parted  lips,  and  I  believe  that  we  three  all 
drew  a  step  nearer  him.  Sapt  did  not  in- 
terrupt this  time. 

44  Yes,  madam,  the  king  was  very  tired, 
and  as  we  chanced  to  kill  near  the  hunt- 
ing-lodge, the  king  bade  us  carry  our 
quarry  there,  and  come  back  to  dress  it 
to-morrow;  so  we  obeyed,  and  here  we 
are — that  is,  except  Herbert,  my  brother, 
who  stayed  with  the  king  by  his  majesty's 
orders.  Because,  madam,  Herbert  is  a 
handy  fellow,  and  my  good  mother  taught 
him  to  cook  a  steak  and " 

11  Stayed  where  with  the  king  ?  "  roared 
Sapt. 

44  Why,  at  the  hunting-lodge,  Constable. 
The  king  stays  there  to-night,  and  will 
ride  back  to-morrow  morning  with  Her- 
bert. That,  madam,  is  the  king's  mes- 
sage." 

We  had  come  to  it  at  last,  and  it  was 
something  to  come  to.  Simon  gazed  from 
face  to  face.  I  saw  him,  and  I  understood 
at  once  that  our  feelings  must  be  speaking 
too  plainly.  So  I  took  on  myself  to  dis- 
miss him,  saying: 

44  Thanks,  Simon,  thanks:  we  under- 
stand." 

He  bowed  to  the  queen;  she  roused  her- 
self, and  added  her  thanks  to  mine. 
Simon  withdrew,  looking  still  a  little 
puzzled. 

After  we  were  left  alone,  there  was  a 
moment's  silence.     Then  I  said: 

44  Suppose  Rupert " 

The  Constable  of  Zenda  broke  in  with  a 
short  laugh. 

44  On  my  life,"  said  he,  "how  things 
fall  out!  We  say  he  will  go  to  the  hunt- 
ing-lodge, and — he  goes!  " 

4 'If  Rupert  goes — if  Rischenheim doesn't 
stop  him!  "  I  urged  again. 

The  queen  rose  from  her  seat  and 
stretched  out  her  hands  towards  us. 

44  Gentlemen,  my  letter!  "  said  she. 

Sapt  wasted  no  time. 

44  Bernenstein,"  said  he,  "  you  stay  here 
as  we  arranged.  Nothing  is  altered. 
Horses  for  Fritz  and  myself  in  five  min- 
utes." 

Bernenstein  turned  and  shot  like  an  ar- 
row along  the  terrace  towards  the  stables. 

44  Nothing  is  altered,  madam,"  said 
Sapt,  "  except  that  we  must  be  there  be- 
fore Count  Rupert." 

I  looked  at  my  watch.  It  was  twenty 
minutes  past  nine.  Simon's  cursed  chat- 
ter had  lost  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  I 
opened  my  lips  to  speak.     A  glance  from 


Sapt's  eyes  told  me  that  he  discerned  what 
I  was  about  to  say.     I  was  silent. 

41  You'll  be  in  time  ?  "  asked  the  queen, 
with  clasped  hands  and  frightened  eyes. 

44  Assuredly,  madam,"  returned  Sapt 
with  a  bow. 

44  You  won't  let  him  reach  the  king  ?  " 

44  Why,  no,  madam,"  said  Sapt  with  a 
smile. 

44  From  my  heart,  gentlemen,"  she  said 
in  a  trembling  voice,  "  from  my  heart " 

44  Here  are  the  horses,"  cried  Sapt.  He 
snatched  her  hand,  brushed  it  with  his 
grizzly  moustache,  and — well,  I  am  not 
sure  I  heard,  and  I  can  hardly  believe 
what  I  think  I  heard.  But  I  will  set  it 
down  for  what  it  is  worth.  I  think  he 
said,  "  Bless  your  sweet  face,  we'll  do  it." 
At  any  rate  she  drew  back  with  a  little  cry 
of  surprise,  and  I  saw  the  tears  standing 
in  her  eyes.  I  kissed  her  hand  also;  then 
we  mounted,  and  we  started,  and  we  rode, 
as  if  the  devil  were  behind  us,  for  the 
hunting-lodge. 

But  I  turned  once  to  watch  her  standing 
on  the  terrace,  with  young  Bernenstein's 
tall  figure  beside  her. 

44  Can  we  be  in  time  ?  "  said  I.  It  was 
what  I  had  meant  to  say  before. 

44 1  think  not,  but,  by  God,  we'll  try," 
said  Colonel  Sapt. 

And  I  knew  why  he  had  not  let  me 
speak. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  sound  behind  us 
of  a  horse  at  the  gallop.  Our  heads  flew 
round  in  the  ready  apprehension  of  men 
on  a  perilous  errand.  The  hoofs  drew 
near,  for  the  unknown  rode  with  reckless 
haste. 

M  We  had  best  see  what  it  is,"  said  the 
constable,  pulling  up. 

A  second  more,  and  the  horseman  was 
beside  us.  Sapt  swore  an  oath,  half  in 
amusement,  half  in  vexation. 

44  Why,  is  it  you,  James  ? "  I  cried. 

44  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Rudolf  Rassen- 
dyll's  servant. 

44  What  the  devil  do  you  want  ?  "  asked 
Sapt. 

44 1  came  to  attend  on  the  Count  von 
Tarlenheim,  sir." 

44 1  did  not  give  you  any  orders, 
James." 

44  No,  sir.  But  Mr.  Rassendyll  told  me 
not  to  leave  you,  unless  you  sent  me  away. 
So  I  made  haste  to  follow  you." 

Then  Sapt  cried:  "  Deuce  take  it,  what 
horse  is  that  ?" 

44  The  best  in  the  stables,  so  far  as  I 
could  see,  sir.  I  was  afraid  of  not  over- 
taking you." 


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RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


Sapt  tugged  his  moustaches,  scowled, 
but  finally  laughed. 

"  Much  obliged  for  your  compliment," 
said  he.     "  The  horse  is  mine." 

"Indeed,  sir?"  said  James  with  re- 
spectful interest. 

For  a  moment  we  were  all  silent.  Then 
Sapt  laughed  again. 

"  Forward!  "  said  he,  and  the  three  of 
us  dashed  into  the  forest. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    TEMPER    OF    BORIS   THE    HOUND. 

Looking  back  now,  in  the  light  of  the 
information  I  have  gathered,  I  am  able  to 
trace  very  clearly,  and  almost  hour  by 
hour,  the  events  of  this  day,  and  to  under- 
stand how  chance,  laying  hold  of  our 
cunning  plan  and  mocking  our  wiliness, 
twisted  and  turned  our  device  to  a  prede- 
termined but  undreamt-of  issue,  of  which 
we  were  most  guiltless  in  thought  or  in- 
tent. Had  the  king  not  gone  to  the  hunt- 
ing-lodge, our  design  would  have  found 
the  fulfilment  we  looked  for;  had  Rischen- 
heim  succeeded  in  warning  Rupert  of 
Hentzau,  we  should  have  stood  where  we 
were.  Fate  or  fortune  would  have  it 
otherwise.  The  king,  being  weary,  went 
to  the  lodge,  and  Rischenheim  failed  in 
warning  his  cousin.  It  was  a  narrow  fail- 
ure, for  Rupert,  as  his  laugh  told  me,  was 
in  the  house  in  the  Konigstrasse  when  I 
set  out  from  Strelsau,  and  Rischenheim 
arrived  there  at  half-past  four.  He  had 
taken  the  train  at  a  roadside  station,  and 
thus  easily  outstripped  Mr.  Rassendyll, 
who,  not  daring  to  show  his  face,  was 
forced  to  ride  all  the  way  and  enter  the 
city  under  cover  of  night.  But  Rischen- 
heim had  not  dared  to  send  a  warning,  for 
he  knew  that  we  were  in  possession  of  the 
address  and  did  not  know  what  steps  we 
might  have  taken  to  intercept  messages. 
Therefore  he  was  obliged  to  carry  the 
news  himself;  when  he  came  his  man  was 
gone.  Indeed  Rupert  must  have  left  the 
house  almost  immediately  after  I  was  safe 
away  from  the  city.  He  was  determined 
to  be  in  good  time  for  his  appointment; 
his  only  enemies  were  not  in  Strelsau; 
there  was  no  warrant  on  which  he  could 
be  apprehended;  and,  although  his  connec- 
tion with  Black  Michael  was  a  matter  of 
popular  gossip,  he  felt  himself  safe  from 
arrest  by  virtue  of  the  secret  that  protected 
him.  Accordingly  he  walked  out  of  the 
house,  went  to  the  station,  took  his  ticket 


to  Hofbau,  and,  traveling  by  the  four 
o'clock  train,  reached  his  destination  about 
half-past  five.  He  must  have  passed  the 
train  in  which  Rischenheim  traveled;  the 
first  news  the  latter  had  of  his  departure 
was  from  a  porter  at  the  station,  who, 
having  recognized  the  Count  of  Hentzau, 
ventured  to  congratulate  Rischenheim  on 
his  cousin's  return.  Rischenheim  made 
no  answer,  but  hurried  in  great  agitation 
to  the  house  in  the  Konigstrasse,  where 
the  old  woman  Holf  confirmed  the  tid- 
ings. Then  he  passed  through  a  period  of 
great  irresolution.  Loyalty  to  Rupert 
urged  that  he  should  follow  him  and  share 
the  perils  into  which  his  cousin  was  has- 
tening. But  caution  whispered  that  he 
was  not  irrevocably  committed,  that 
nothing  overt  yet  connected  him  with  Ru- 
pert's schemes,  and  that  we  who  knew  the 
truth  should  be  well  content  to  purchase 
his  silence  as  to  the  trick  we  had  played 
by  granting  him  immunity.  His  fears  won 
the  day,  and,  like  the  irresolute  man  he 
was,  he  determined  to  wait  in  Strelsau  till 
he  heard  the  issue  of  the  meeting  at  the 
lodge.  If  Rupert  were  disposed  of  there, 
he  had  something  to  offer  us  in  return  for 
peace;  if  his  cousin  escaped,  he  would  be 
in  the  Konigstrasse,  prepared  to  second 
the  further  plans  of  the  desperate  adven- 
turer. In  any  event  his  skin  was  safe,  and 
I  presume  to  think  that  this  weighed  a 
little  with  him;  for  excuse  he  had  the 
wound  which  Bernenstein  had  given  him, 
and  which  rendered  his  right  arm  entirely 
useless;  had  he  gone  then,  he  would  have 
been  a  most  inefficient  ally. 

Of  all  this  we,  as  we  rode  through  the 
forest,  knew  nothing.  We  might  guess, 
conjecture,  hope,  or  fear;  but  our  certain 
knowledge  stopped  with  Rischenheim's 
start  for  the  capital  and  Rupert's  presence 
there  at  three  o'clock.  The  pair  might 
have  met  or  might  have  missed.  We  had 
to  act  as  though  they  had  missed  and 
Rupert  were  gone  to  meet  the  king.  But 
we  were  late.  The  consciousness  of  that 
pressed  upon  us,  although  we  evaded  fur- 
ther mention  of  it;  it  made  us  spur  and 
drive  our  horses  as  quickly,  aye,  and  a 
little  more  quickly,  than  safety  allowed. 
Once  James's  horse  stumbled  in  the  dark- 
ness and  its  rider  was  thrown ;  more  than 
once  a  low  bough  hanging  over  the  path 
nearly  swept  me,  dead  or  stunned,  from 
my  seat.  Sapt  paid  no  attention  to  these 
mishaps  or  threatened  mishaps.  He  had 
taken  the  lead,  and,  sitting  well  down  in 
his  saddle,  rode  ahead,  turning  neither  to 
right  nor  left,  never  slackening  his  pace, 


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sparing  neither  himself  nor  his  beast. 
James  and  I  were  side  by  side  behind  him. 
We  rode  in  silence,  finding  nothing  to  say 
to  one  another.  My  mind  was  full  of  a 
picture — the  picture  of  Rupert  with  his 
easy  smile  handing  to  the  king  the  queen's 
letter.  For  the  hour  of  the  rendezvous 
was  past.  If  that  image  had  been  trans- 
lated into  reality,  what  must  we  do  ?  To 
kill  Rupert  would  satisfy  revenge,  but  of 
what  other  avail  would  it  be  when  the  king 
had  read  the  letter?  I  am  ashamed  to 
say  that  I  found  myself  girding  at  Mr. 
Rassendyll  for  happening  on  a  plan  which 
the  course  of  events  had  turned  into  a 
trap  for  ourselves  and  not  for  Rupert  of 
Hentzau. 

Suddenly  Sapt,  turning  his  head  for  the 
first  time,  pointed  in  front  of  him.  The 
lodge  was  before  us;  we  saw  it  looming 
dimly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off.  Sapt  reined 
in  his  horse,  and  we  followed  his  example. 
All  dismounted,  we  tied  our  horses  to  trees 
and  went  forward  3t  a  quick,  silent  walk. 
Our  idea  was  that  Sapt  should  enter  on 
pretext  of  having  been  sent  by  the  queen 
to  attend  to  her  husband's  comfort  and 
arrange  for  his  return  without  further  fa- 
tigue next  day.  If  Rupert  had  come  and 
gone,  the  king's  demeanor  would  probably 
betray  the  fact ;  if  he  had  not  yet  come,  I 
and  James,  patrolling  outside,  would  bar 
his  passage.  There  was  a  third  possibil- 
ity; he  might  be  even  now  with  the  king. 
Our  course  in  such  a  case  we  left  unset- 
tled; so  far  &s  I  had  any  plan,  it  was  to 
kill  Rupert  and  try  to  convince  the  king 
that  the  letter  was  a  forgery — a  desperate 
hope,  so  desperate  that  we  turned  our 
eyes  away  from  the  possibility  which  would 
make  it  our  only  resource. 

Wfe  were  now  very  near  the  hunting- 
lodge,  being  about  forty  yards  from  the 
front  of  it.  All  at  once  Sapt  threw  him- 
self on  his  stomach  on  the  ground. 

"  Give  me  a  match,"  he  whispered. 

James  struck  a  light,  and,  the  night 
being  still,  the  flame  burnt  brightly:  it 
showed  us  the  mark  of  a  horse's  hoof,  ap- 
parently quite  fresh,  and  leading  away 
from  the  lodge.  We  rose  and  went  on, 
following  the  tracks  by  the  aid  of  more 
matches  till  we  reached  a  tree  twenty  yards 
from  the  door.  Here  the  hoof-marks 
ceased;  but  beyond  there  was  a  double 
track  of  human  feet  in  the  soft  black 
earth ;  a  man  had  gone  thence  to  the  house 
and  returned  from  the  house  thither.  On 
the  right  of  the  tree  were  more  hoof-marks, 
leading  up  to  it  and  then  ceasing.  A  man 
had  ridden  up  from  the  right,  dismounted, 


gone  on  foot  to  the  house,  returned  to  the 
tree,  remounted,  and  ridden  away  along 
the  track  by  which  we  had  approached. 

"It  may  be  somebody  else,"  said  I; 
but  I  do  not  think  that  we  any  of  us 
doubted  in  our  hearts  that  the  tracks  were 
made  by  the  coming  of  Hentzau.  Then 
the  king  had  the  letter;  the  mischief  was 
done.     We  were  too  late. 

Yet  we  did  not  hesitate.  Since  disaster 
had  come,  it  must  be  faced.  Mr.  Rassen- 
dyll's  servant  and  I  followed  the  consta- 
ble of  Zenda  up  to  the  door,  or  within  a 
few  feet  of  it.  Here  Sapt,  who  was  in 
uniform,  loosened  his  sword  in  its  sheath ; 
James  and  I  looked  to  our  revolvers. 
There  were  no  lights  visible  in  the  lodge; 
the  door  was  shut;  everything  was  still. 
Sapt  knocked  softly  with  his  knuckles,  but 
there  was  no  answer  from  within.  He 
laid  hold  of  the  handle  and  turned  it;  the 
door  opened,  and  the  passage  lay  dark  and 
apparently  empty  before  us. 

"You  stay  here,  as  we  arranged," 
whispered  the  colonel.  "Give  me  the 
matches,  and  I'll  go  in." 

James  handed  him  the  box  of  matches, 
and  he  crossed  the  threshold.  For  a  yard 
or  two  we  saw  him  plainly,  then  his  figure 
grew  dim  and  indistinct.  I  heard  nothing 
except  my  own  hard  breathing.  But  in  a 
moment  there  was  another  sound — a 
muffled  exclamation,  and  the  noise  of  a 
man  stumbling;  a  sword,  too,  clattered  on 
the  stones  of  the  passage.  We  looked  at 
one  another;  the  noise  did  not  produce 
any  answering  stir  in  the  house;  then 
came  the  sharp  little  explosion  of  a  match 
struck  on  its  box  ;  next  we  heard  Sapt 
raising  himself,  his  scabbard  scraping 
along  the  stones;  his  footsteps  came  to- 
wards us,  and  in  a  second  he  appeared  at 
the  door. 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"I  fell,"  said  Sapt. 

"Over  what?" 

"  Come  and  see.     James,  stay  here." 

I  followed  the  constable  for  the  dis- 
tance of  eight  or  ten  feet  along  the  pas- 
sage. 

"  Isn't  there  a  lamp  anywhere?"  I  asked. 

"  We  can  see  enough  with  a  match,"  he 
answered.  "  Here,  this  is  what  I  fell 
over." 

Even  before  the  match  was  struck  I 
saw  a  dark  body  lying  across  the  passage. 

"A  dead  man!  "  I  guessed  instantly. 

"Why,  no,"  said  Sapt,  striking  a  light: 
"a  dead  dog,  Fritz." 

An  exclamation  of  wonder  escaped  me 
as  I  fell  on  my  knees.     At  the  same  in- 


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stant  Sapt  muttered,  "  Aye,  there's  a 
lamp/'  and,  stretching  up  his  hand  to  a 
little  oil  lamp  that  stood  on  a  bracket,  he 
lit  it,  took  it  down,  and  held  it  over  the 
body.  It  served  to  give  a  fair,  though 
unsteady,  light,  and  enabled  us  to  see 
what  lay  in  the  passage. 

"It's  Boris,  the  boar-hound,"  said  I, 
still  in  a  whisper,  although  there  was  no 
sign  of  any  listeners. 

I  knew  the  dog  well;  he  was  the  king's 
favorite,  and  always  accompanied  him 
when  he  went  hunting.  He  was  obedient 
to  every  word  of  the  king's,  but  of  a 
rather  uncertain  temper  towards  the  rest 
of  the  world.  However,  de  mortuis  nil 
nisi  bonutn ;  there  he  lay  dead  in  the  pas- 
sage. Sapt  put  his  hand  on  the  beast's 
head.  There  was  a  bullet-hole  right 
through  his  forehead.  I  nodded,  and  in 
my  turn  pointed  to  the  dog's  right  shoul- 
der, which  was  shattered  by  another  ball. 

"And  see  here,"  said  the  constable. 
"Have  a  pull  at  this." 

I  looked  where  his  hand  now  was.  In 
the  dog's  mouth  was  a  piece  of  gray  cloth, 
and  on  the  piece  of  gray  cloth  was  a  horn 
coat-button.  I  took  hold  of  the  cloth  and 
pulled.  Boris  held  on  even  in  death. 
Sapt  drew  his  sword,  and,  inserting  the 
point  of  it  between  the  dog's  teeth,  parted 
them  enough  for  me  to  draw  out  the  piece 
of  cloth. 

"You'd  better  put  it  in  your  pocket," 
said  the  constable.  "  Now  come  along;  " 
and,  holding  the  lamp  in  one  hand  and  his 
sword  (which  he  did  not  resheathe)  in  the 
other,  he  stepped  over  the  body  of  the 
boar-hound,  and  I  followed  him. 

We  were  now  in  front  of  the  door  of 
the  room  where  Rudolf  Rassendyli  had 
supped  with  us  on  the  day  of  his  first 
coming  to  Ruritania,  and  whence  he  had 
set  out  to  be  crowned  in  Strelsau.  On 
the  right  of  it  was  the  room  where  the 
king  slept,  and  farther  along  in  the  same 
direction  the  kitchen  and  the  cellars.  The 
officer  or  officers  in  attendance  on  the 
king  used  to  sleep  on  the  other  side  of  the 
dining-room. 

"We  must  explore,  I  suppose,"  said 
Sapt.  In  spite  of  his  outward  calmness,  I 
caught  in  his  voice  the  ring  of  excitement 
rising  and  ill-repressed.  But  at  this  mo- 
ment we  heard  from  the  passage  on  our 
left  (as  we  faced  the  door)  a  low  moan, 
and  then  a  dragging  sound,  as  if  a  man 
were  crawling  along  the  floor,  painfully 
trailing  his  limbs  after  him.  Sapt  held  the 
lamp  in  that  direction,  and  we  saw  Her- 
bert the   forester,   pale-faced   and    wide- 


eyed,  raised  from  the  ground  on  his  two 
hands,  while  his  legs  stretched  behind  him 
and  his  stomach  rested  on  the  flags. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  he  said  in  a  faint  voice. 

"Why,  man,  you  know  us,"  said  the 
constable,  stepping  up  to  him.  "  What's 
happened  here?" 

The  poor  fellow  was  very  faint,  and,  I 
think,  wandered  a  little  in  his  brain. 

"  I've  got  it,  sir,"  he  murmured;  "  I've 
got  it,  fair  and  straight.  No  more  hunt- 
ing for  me,  sir.  I've  got  it  here  in  the 
stomach.  Oh,  my  God!"  He  let  his 
head  fall  with  a  thud  on  the  floor. 

I  ran  and  raised  him.  Kneeling  on  one 
knee,  I  propped  his  head  against  my  leg. 

"  Tell  us  about  it,"  commanded  Sapt  in 
a  curt,  crisp  voice,  while  I  got  the  man 
into  the  easiest  position  that  I  could  con- 
trive. 

In  slow,  struggling  tones  he  began  his 
story,  repeating  here,  omitting  there,  often 
confusing  the  order  of  his  narrative,  of- 
tener  still  arresting  it  while  he  waited  for 
fresh  strength.  Yet  we  were  not  impa- 
tient, but  heard  without  a  thought  of 
time.  I  looked  round  once  at  a  sound, 
and  found  that  James,  anxious  about  us, 
had  stolen  along  the  passage  and  joined 
us.  Sapt  took  no  notice  of  him,  nor  of 
anything  save  the  words  that  dropped  in 
irregular  utterance  from  the  stricken 
man's  lips.  Here  is  the  story,  a  strange 
instance  of  the  turning  of  a  great  event  on 
a  small  cause. 

The  king  had  eaten  a  little  supper,  and, 
having  gone  to  his  bedroom,  had  stretched 
himself  on  the  bed  and  fallen  asleep  with- 
out undressing.  Herbert  was  clearing  the 
dining-table  and  performing  similar  duties, 
when  suddenly  (thus  he  told  it)  he  found  a 
man  standing  beside  him.  He  did  not 
know  (he  was  new  to  the  king's  service) 
who  the  unexpected  visitor  was,  but  he 
was  of  middle  height,  dark,  handsome, 
and  "  looked  a  gentleman  all  over."  He 
was  dressed  in  a  shooting-tunic,  and  a  re- 
volver was  thrust  through  the  belt  of  it. 
One  hand  rested  on  the  belt,  while  the 
other  held  a  small  square  box. 

"  Tell  the  king  I  am  here.  He  expects 
me,"  said  the  stranger. 

Herbert,  alarmed  at  the  suddenness  and 
silence  of  the  stranger's  approach,  and 
guiltily  conscious  of  having  left  the  door 
unbolted,  drew  back.  He  was  unarmed, 
but,  being  a  stout  fellow,  was  prepared  to 
defend  his  master  as  best  he  could.  Ru- 
pert— beyond  doubt  it  was  Rupert — 
laughed  lightly,  saying  again,  "  Man,  he 
expects  me.     Go  and  tell  him,"  and  sat 


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ANTHONY  HOPE. 


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himself  on  the  table,  swinging  his  leg. 
Herbert,  influenced  by  the  visitor's  air  of 
command,  began  to  retreat  towards  the 
bedroom,  keeping  his  face  towards  Rupert. 
"  If  the  king  asks  more,  tell  him  I  have 
the  packet  and  the  letter,"  said  Rupert. 
The  man  bowed  and  passed  into  the  bed- 
room. The  king  was  asleep;  when  roused 
he  seemed  to  know  nothing  of  letter  or 
packet,  and  to  expect  no  visitor.  Herbert's 
ready  fears  revived;  he  whispered  that  the 
stranger  carried  a  revolver.  Whatever 
the  king's  faults  might  be — and  God  for- 
bid that  I  should  speak  hardly  of  him 
whom  fate  used  so  hardly — he  was  no 
coward.  He  sprang  from  his  bed;  at  the 
same  moment  the  great  boar-hound  un- 
coiled himself  and  came  from  beneath, 
yawning  and  fawning.  But  in  an  instant 
the  beast  caught  the  scent  of  a  stranger: 
his  ears  pricked  and  he  gave  a  low  growl, 
as  he  looked  up  in  his  master's  face.  Then 
Rupert  of  Hentzau,  weary  perhaps  of 
waiting,  perhaps  only  doubtful  whether 
his  message  would  be  properly  delivered, 
appeared  in  the  doorway. 

The  king  was  unarmed,  and  Herbert  in 
no  better  plight;  their  hunting  weapons 
were  in  the  adjoining  room,  and  Rupert 
seemed  to  bar  the  way.  I  have  said  that 
the  king  was  no  coward,  yet  I  think  that 
the  sight  of  Rupert,  bringing  back  the 
memory  of  his  torments  in  the  dungeon, 
half  cowed  him;  for  he  shrank  back  cry- 
ing, "You!"  The  hound,  in  subtle  un- 
derstanding of  his  master's  movement, 
growled  angrily. 

14  You  expected  me,  sire  ?  "  said  Rupert 
with  a  bow;  but  he  smiled.  I  know  that 
the  sight  of  the  king's  alarm  pleased  him. 
To  inspire  terror  was  his  delight,  and  it 
does  not  come  to  every  man  to  strike  fear 
into  the  heart  of  a  king  and  an  Elphberg. 
It  had  come  more  than  once  to  Rupert  of 
Hentzau. 

"No,"  muttered  the  king.  Then,  re- 
covering his  composure  a  little,  he  said 
angrily,  "  How  dare  you  come  here  ?  " 

"  You  didn't  expect  me?"  cried  Rupert, 
and  in  an  instant  the  thought  of  a  trap 
seemed  to  flash  across  his  alert  mind.  He 
drew  the  revolver  half-way  from  his  belt, 
probably  in  a  scarcely  conscious  move- 
ment, born  of  the  desire  to  assure  himself 
of  its  presence.  With  a  cry  of  alarm 
Herbert  flung  himself  before  the  king, 
who  sank  back  on  the  bed.  Rupert,  puz- 
zled, vexed,  yet  half-amused  (for  he 
smiled  still,  the  man  said),  took  a  step  for- 
ward, crying  out  something  about  Risch- 
enheim — what,  Herbert  could  not  tell  us. 


"  Keep  back,"  exclaimed  the  king.  "  Keep 
back."  Rupert  paused;  then,  as  though 
with  a  sudden  thought,  he  held  up  the  box 
that  was  in  his  left  hand,  saying: 

"Well,  look  at  this,  sire,  and  we'll  talk 
afterwards,"  and  he  stretched  out  his  hand 
with  the  box  in  it. 

Now  the  thing  stood  on  a  razor's  edge, 
for  the  king  whispered  to  Herbert,  "  What 
is  it?     Go  and  take  it." 

But  Herbert  hesitated,  fearing  to  leave 
the  king,  whom  his  body  now  protected  as 
though  with  a  shield.  Rupert's  impa- 
tience overcame  him:  if  there  were  a  trap, 
every  moment's  delay  doubled  his  danger. 
With  a  scornful  laugh  he  exclaimed, 
"  Catch  it,  then,  if  you're  afraid  to  come 
for  it,"  and  Re  flung  the  packet  to  Her- 
bert or  the  king,  or  which  of  them  might 
chance  to  catch  it. 

This  insolence  had  a  strange  result.  In 
an  instant,  with  a  fierce  growl  and  a  mighty 
bound,  Boris  was  at  the  stranger's  throat. 
Rupert  had  not  seen  or  had  not  heeded 
the  dog.  A  startled  oath  rang  out  from 
him.  He  snatched  the  revolver  from  his 
belt  and  fired  at  his  assailant.  This  shot 
must  have  broken  the  beast's  shoulder, 
but  it  only  half  arrested  his  spring.  His 
great  weight  was  still  hurled  on  Rupert's 
chest,  and  bore  him  back  on  his  knee. 
The  packet  that  he  had  flung  lay  un- 
heeded. The  king,  wild  with  alarm  and 
furious  with  anger  at  his  favorite's  fate, 
jumped  up  and  ran  past  Rupert  into  the 
next  room.  Herbert  followed;  even  as 
they  went  Rupert  flung  the  wounded,  weak- 
ened beast  from  him  and  darted  to  the 
doorway.  He  found  himself  facing  Her- 
bert, who  held  a  boar-spear,  and  the  king, 
who  had  a  double-barreled  hunting-gun. 
He  raised  his  left  hand,  Herbert  said — no 
doubt  he  still  asked  a  hearing — but  the 
king  leveled  his  weapon.  With  a  spring 
Rupert  gained  the  shelter  of  the  door,  the 
bullet  sped  by  him,  and  buried  itself  in  the 
wall  of  the  room.  Then  Herbert  was  at 
him  with  the  boar-spear.  Explanations 
must  wait  now:  it  was  life  or  death;  with- 
out hesitation  Rupert  fired  at  Herbert, 
bringing  him  to  the  ground  with  a  mortal 
wound.  The  king's  gun  was  at  his  shoul- 
der again. 

"You  damned  fool!"  roared  Rupert, 
"if  you  must  have  it,  take  it,"  and  gun 
and  revolver  rang  out  at  the  same  mo- 
ment. But  Rupert — never  did  his  nerve 
fail  him — hit,  the  king  missed;  Herbert 
saw  the  count  stand  for  an  instant  with  his 
smoking  barrel  in  his  hand,  looking  at  the 
king,  who  lay  on  the  ground.      Then  Ru- 


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RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


pert  walked  towards  the  door.  I  wish  I 
had  seen  his  face  then !  Did  he  frown  or 
smile  ?  Was  triumph  or  chagrin  upper- 
most ?     Remorse  ?     Not  he! 

He  reached  the  door  and  passed  through. 
That  was  the  last  Herbert  saw  of  him; 
but  the  fourth  actor  in  the  drama,  the 
wordless  player  whose  part  had  been  so 
momentous,  took  the  stage.  Limping 
along,  now  whining  in  sharp  agony,  now 
growling  in  fierce  anger,  with  blood  flow- 
ing but  hair  bristling,  the  hound  Boris 
dragged  himself  across  the  room,  through 
the  door,  after  Rupert  of  Hentzau.  Her- 
bert listened,  raising  his  head  from  the 
ground.  There  was  a  growl,  an  oath,  the 
sound  of  the  scuffle.  Rupert  must  have 
turned  in  time  to  receive  the'dog's  spring. 
The  beast,  maimed  and  crippled  by  his 
shattered  shoulder,  did  not  reach  his  en- 
emy's face,  but  his  teeth  tore  away  the  bit 
of  cloth  that  we  had  found  held  in  the  vise 
of  his  jaws.  Then  came  another  shot,  a 
laugh,  retreating  steps,  and  a  door 
slammed.  With  that  last  sound  Herbert 
woke  to  the  fact  of  the  count's  escape; 
with  weary  efforts  he  dragged  himself 
into  the  passage.  The  idea  that  he  could 
go  on  if  he  got  a  drink  of  brandy  turned 
him  in  the  direction  of  the  cellar.  But 
his  strength  failed,  and  he  sank  down 
where  we  found  him,  not  knowing  whether 
the  king  were  dead  or  still  alive,  and  una- 
ble even  to  make  his  way  back  to  the  room 
where  his  master  lay  stretched  on  the 
ground. 

I  had  listened  to  the  story,  bound  as 
though  by  a  spell.  Half-way  through, 
James's  hand  had  crept  to  my  arm  and 
rested  there;  when  Herbert  finished  I 
heard  the  little  man  licking  his  lips,  again 
and  again  slapping  his  tongue  against 
them.  Then  I  looked  at  Sapt.  He  was 
as  pale  as  a  ghost,  and  the  lines  on  his 
face  seemed  to  have  grown  deeper.  He 
glanced  up,  and  met  my  regard.  Neither 
of  us  spoke;  we  exchanged  thoughts  with 
our  eyes.  "This  is  our  work,"  we  said 
to  one  another.  "  It  was  our  trap,  these 
are  our  victims."  I  cannot-  even  now 
think  of  that  hour,  for  by  our  act  the  king 
lay  dead. 

But  was  he  dead  ?  I  seized  Sapt  by  the 
arm.  His  glance  questioned  me.  "  The 
king,"  I  whispered  hoarsely.     "Yes,  the 


king,"  he  returned.  Facing  round,  we 
walked  to  the  door  of  the  dining-room. 
Here  I  turned  suddenly  faint,  and  clutched 
at  the  constable.  He  held  me  up,  and 
pushed  the  door  wide  open.  The  smell  of 
powder  was  in  the  room;  it  seemed  as  if 
the  smoke  hung  about,  curling  in  dim  coils 
round  the  chandelier  which  gave  a  sub- 
dued light.  James  had  the  lamp  now, 
and  followed  us  with  it.  But  the  king 
was  not  there.  A  sudden  hope  filled  me. 
He  had  not  been  killed  then!  I  regained 
strength,  and  darted  across  towards  the 
inside  room.  Here  too  thfc  light  was  dim, 
and  I  turned  to  beckon  for  the  lamp.  Sapt 
and  James  came  together,  and  stood  peer- 
ing over  my  shoulder  in  the  doorway. 

The  king  lay  prone  on  the  floor,  face 
downwards,  near  the  bed.  He  had  crawled 
there,  seeking  for  some  place  to  rest,  as 
we  supposed.  He  did  not  move.  We 
watched  him  for  a  moment;  the  silence 
seemed  deeper  than  silence  could  be.  At 
last,  moved  by  a  common  impulse,  we 
stepped  forward,  but  timidly,  as  though 
we  approached  the  throne  of  Death  him- 
self. I  was  the  first  to  kneel  by  the  king 
and  raise  his  head.  Blood  had  flown 
from  his  lips,  but  it  had  ceased  to  flow 
now.     He  was  dead. 

I  felt  Sapt's  hand  on  my  shoulder. 
Looking  up,  I  saw  his  other  hand  stretched 
out  towards  the  ground.  I  turned  my 
eyes  where  he  pointed.  There,  in  the 
king's  hand,  stained  with  the  king's  blood, 
was  the  box  that  I  had  carried  to  Winten- 
berg  and  Rupert  of  Hentzau  had  brought 
to  the  lodge  that  night.  It  was  not  rest, 
but  the  box  that  the  dying  king  had 
sought  in  his  last  moment.  I  bent,  and 
lifting  his  hand  unclasped  the  fingers,  still 
limp  and  warm. 

Sapt  bent  down  with  sudden  eagerness. 

"  Is  it  open  ?  "  he  whispered. 

The  string  was  round  it;  the  sealing-wax 
was  unbroken.  The  secret  had  outlived 
the  king,  and  he  had  gone  to  his  death  un- 
knowing. All  at  once — I  cannot  tell  why 
— I  put  my  hand  over  my  eyes;  I  found 
my  eyelashes  were  wet. 

"Is  it  open  ? "  asked  Sapt  again,  for  in 
the  dim  light  he  could  not  see. 

"  No,"  I  answered. 

"Thank  God!"  said  he.  And,  for 
Sapt's,  the  voice  was  soft. 


CTc  be  continued.') 


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THE   EARLIEST   PORTRAIT  OP  ABRAHAM   LINCOLN.      ABOUT   1848.      AGE   39. 

From  the  original  daguerreotype,  owned  by  Mr.  Lincoln's  son,  the  Hon.  Robert  T.  Lincoln,  through  whose  courtesy  it 
was  first  published  in  McClure's  Magazine  for  November,  1895.  It  was  afterwards  republished  in  the  McClure  "  Life  of 
Lincoln,"  and  in  the  "Century  Magazine"  for  February,  1897. 


SOME    GREAT    PORTRAITS    OF    LINCOLN. 


THE  known  portraits  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln cover  a  period  of  seventeen 
years,  the  earliest  being  a  daguerreotype 
supposed  to  have  been  taken  in  1848.  No 
picture  of  him  exists  which  can  be  said 
with  certainty  to  have  been  produced  in 
the  first  half  of  the  fifties;  but  in  the 
latter   half   of    that    decade    many    were 


taken,  particularly  after  his  debates  with 
Douglas  made  him  so  prominent  a  figure. 
After  Mr.  Lincoln's  election  to  the  Presi- 
dency the  number  of  his  portraits  multi- 
plied rapidly,  for  he  seems  to  have  yielded 
with  great  good-nature  to  the  applications 
for  sittings  made  by  photographers  and 
artists.     From  the  large  number  of  por- 


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SOME  GREAT  PORTRAITS  OF  LINCOLN, 


LINCOLN    IN    1858.      AGE  49. 

From  a  photograph  loaned  by  W.  J.  Franklin  of  Macomb,  Illinois,  and  taken  in  1866  from  an  ambrotype  made  in  1858 

at  Macomb,  Illinois. 


traits  gathered  by  this  magazine  a  series 
of  eight  are  published  herewith.  Repre- 
senting Mr.  Lincoln  at  intervals  in  the 
seventeen  last  and  most  fruitful  years  of 
his  life,  they  give  trustworthy  and  inter- 
esting data  for  a  study  both  of  the  man's 
appearance  and  of  his  character. 

I. — The  earliest  portrait  (page  339) 
was  taken  when  Lincoln  was  about  forty 
years  old;  that  is,  when  he  was  serving  his 
only  term  in  Congress.     Indeed,  it  is  not 


impossible  that  this  daguerreotype  was 
made  in  Washington,  since  at  that  time 
one  of  the  rooms  of  the  capitol  was  set 
aside  for  a  daguerreotyper,  and  most  of 
the  members  of  Congress  had  their  por- 
traits made  by  what  was  still  a  new  pro- 
cess and  one  regarded  with  curiosity. 
The  Lincoln  of  this  daguerreotype  is  a 
curious  contradiction  to  the  Lincoln  in  the 
popular  mind.  His  dress,  instead  of  be- 
ing "  uncouth,"  as  tradition  represents  it, 


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SOME  GREAT  PORTRAITS  OF  LINCOLN. 


34i 


LIFE  MASK  OF  LINCOLN.      1 86a      AGE  51. 

Made  in  i860  by  Leonard  W.  Volk  of  Chicago.    From  a  photograph  taken  expressly  for  McClurk's  Magazine. 


is  almost  elegant;  his  form,  if  stiff  and 
evidently  braced  by  the  archaic  head-rest, 
is  neither  ungainly  nor  awkward,  while  his 
face  is  interesting  and  winning.  You 
would  call  it  the  face  of  a  poet  rather 
than  that  of  a  statesman,  and  more  than 
one  person,  on  first  examining  it,  has 
pronounced  it  the  face  of  Emerson. 

II. — The  second  portrait  in  the  series 
(page  340)  was  taken  ten  years  later — in 
1858.  The  contrast  is  almost  violent. 
The  gentleness  of  the  expression  has  given 
way  to  cold  intelligence;  the  almost  diffi- 


dent pose  of  the  head  is  replaced  by  one 
of  positively  regal  determination.  In- 
stead of  careful  brushing  and  dressing, 
we  see  the  hair  bristling,  the  necktie 
awry.  When  the  history  of  the  por- 
trait is  known,  the  contrast  is  explained. 
It  was  taken  at  one  of  the  most  diffi- 
cult and  daring  moments  of  Lincoln's 
career;  at  an  hour  when  he  had  decided 
to  take  a  course  in  his  debates  with  Doug- 
las against  which  all  his  friends  and  polit- 
ical associates  advised  him,  and  which  he 
himself  knew  would  probably  cost  him  the 


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342  SOME  GREAT  PORTRAITS  OF  LINCOLN. 


LINCOLN  IN   i860.     AGE  51.      HITHERTO  UNPUBLISHED. 

From  a  photograph  found  in  the  collection  of  the  late  J.  Henry  Brown  of  Philadelphia,  who  painted  a  portrait  of  Lincoln 

in  i860. 

election  to  the  senatorship  of  the  United    reason  for  following  this  course  was  that 
States,   for  which  he  was  striving.      His   he  believed  it  would  expose  the  essential 


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SOME  GREAT  PORTRAITS  OF  LINCOLN. 


343 


LINCOLN    IN    l86l.      AGE   53.      FIRST  PUBLISHED    IN    MCCLURB'S  MAGAZINE   FOR  JANUARY,    1 896. 

From  a  photograph  taken  at  Springfield,  Illinois,  early  in  1861,  by  C.  S.  German,  and  owned  by  Allen  Jasper  Conant. 

weakness  of  Douglas's  position,  and  in  the  was  to  take  this  bold  step,  he  was  at 
long  run  would  help  the  general  cause.  Macomb,  Illinois,  and  there  the  portrait 
Two  days  before  the  debate  in  which  he    was  made.      It  reflects,  as  no  other  por- 

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344 


SOME  GREAT  PORTRAITS  OF  LINCOLN. 


From  "  Hannibal  Hamlin 


LINCOLN   IN    X864.      AGE  55.      HITHERTO   UNPUBLISHED. 

Life  and  Times  of  the  War  Vice-President  and  a  Senator  from  Maine  for  a  Quarter  of  a  Cen- 
tury," by  Charles  Eugene  Hamlin — not  yet  published. 


trait  we  have  of  Lincoln,  the  unbending 
determination  of  which  he  was  capable, 
the  force  he  had  for  doing  that  which 
seemed  to  him  right,  though  he  had  to 
do  it  alone  and  in  the  face  of  his  strong- 
est supporters. 

Whatever  suggestion  of  the  unkempt 
there  is  in  Lincoln's  appearance  in  this 
picture  is  explained  if  we  remember  the 
difficulty  of  the  life  he  lead  during  his  de- 
bates with  Douglas.  For  weeks  he  was 
traveling   from    place   to   place,    now   on 


horseback  or  in  carriage,  now  by  rail.  He 
was  exposed  to  heat  and  cold,  rain  and 
dust.  Even  a  man  fastidious  as  to  his  ap- 
pearance would  have  found  it  difficult  to 
keep  himself  trim  under  these  circum- 
stances. It  is  worth  noting,  that  in  all 
of  the  other  portraits  here  given  there  is 
not  a  hint  of  that  uncouthness  of  dress  so 
often  charged  upon  Lincoln. 

III. — The  Volk  life  mask  (reproduced 
in  profile  as  the  frontispiece  of  the  maga- 
zine,   and   in   full-view   on   page   341)   is 

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SOME  GREAT  PORTRAITS  OF  LINCOLN. 


345 


LINCOLN   IN   1864.      AGS  55. 

From  a  photograph  by  Brady,  in  the  War  Department  Collection. 


the  only  portrait  we  have  of  Lincoln 
which  compares  in  the  loftiness  and  reso- 
lution of  its  expression  with  the  Macomb 
picture.  This  mask  Mr.  Volk  made  in 
Chicago  in  i860,  only  a  short  time  before 
Mr.  Lincoln's  nomination  to  the  Presi- 
dency, and  it  must  be  considered  the  most 
perfectly  characteristic  portrait  we  have  of 
Lincoln  when  first  elected  President  of  the 
United  States.  Although  it  gives  with 
perfect  truthfulness  the  rugged  features 
which,  when  considered  separately,  led 
people  to  pronounce  his  face  "  ugly,"  these 


features  are  not  what  strike  one  in  the 
mask.  We  see  rather  the  kindliness  of  its 
lines,  the  splendid  thoughtfulness  of  the 
brow,  the  firm  yet  sweet  curve  of  the  lips, 
and,  particularly,  the  fine  expression  of 
dignity  and  power.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  face 
of  the  truest  distinction  and  the  profound- 
est  interest. 

IV.— The    portrait  which    foUows    the 
mask    (page     342)    ^as  tafcen  in  August, 
i860,  for  Mr.  J   Henry  Brown,  a  miniature 
painter  of   Philadelphia,  **io  ^d  gone  to 
Springfield  to  paint  a  portrait  of  Mr.  Lin- 


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SOME  GREAT  PORTRAITS  OF  LINCOLN. 


MR.    LINCOLN   AND    HIS  SON  THOMAS,    FAMILIARLY   KNOWN   AS   "  TAD."      ABOt.'T   1864.      BY   BRADY. 


coin.  It  has  never  been  reproduced  be- 
fore. It  is  particularly  interesting  because 
it  shows  an  expression  not  common  in 
Lincoln's  portraits,  although  one  frequent 
in  his  face — a  look  of  patient  melancholy 
which  overtook  him  when  weary,  discour- 
aged, or  even  uninterested.  The  expres- 
sion vanished  at  once  when  his  thoughts 
or  emotions  were  aroused. 

V. — The  portrait  on  page  343  was  prob- 
ably taken  early  in  February,  1861.  It  is 
one  of  the  first  portraits  in  which  Lincoln 
wears  a  beard.  The  beard  certainly  soft- 
ened the  ruggedness  of  his  face  somewhat, 


and  hid  slightly  the  deep  hollow  of  his 
cheeks;  but  it  is  not  this  which  gives  the 
charm  to  this  particular  portrait;  it  is,  in- 
stead, the  gentleness  of  the  expression  and 
the  steady  kindness  of  the  deep-set  eyes. 
There  is  not  in  existence,  perhaps,  another 
portrait  of  Mr.  Lincoln  in  which  the  tender- 
ness of  his  nature  is  so  perfectly  expressed. 
VI. — One  of  the  finest  of  the  many  pho- 
tographs of  the  Presidential  period  is  that 
on  page  344,  which  is  now  first  published. 
General  Charles  Hamlin  of  Bangor,  Maine, 
to  whom  Lincoln  gave  the  picture,  says  of 
the  incident: 


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CHARLES  A.  DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


347 


••  Mr,  Lincoln  gave  me  this  photograph 
one  day  in  the  spring  of  1864.  The  pic- 
ture, with  several  others,  stood  on  his 
desk,  in  the  room  at  the  White  House 
where  he  received  visitors,  apparently  for 
the  purpose  of  examination  and  compari- 
son. During  the  conversation  over  our 
business  matters,  my  eye  was  resting  con- 
tinually on  these  pictures,  struck  with  the 
differences  that  existed  between  them. 
As  I  was  about  to  retire,  I  remarked  to 
Mr.  Lincoln  that  of  all  the  portraits  of  him 
that  I  had  seen  this  one  gave  me  the  best 
impression — was  the  best  likeness.  With- 
out making  any  direct  reply  he  handed  it 
to  me,  saying,  '  You  are  welcome  to  it.'  " 

VII.  and  VIII.— The  last  two  portraits 
in  the  series  (pages  345  and  346)  were  made 
by  Brady  in  Washington,  probably  in  1864. 
They  are  especially  interesting  as  showing 


that  the  popular  notion  of  Lincoln's  un- 
gainliness  is  exaggerated.  Indeed  these 
two  pictures  confirm  entirely  what  Mr.'T. 
H.  Bartlett,  the  sculptor,  says  of  Lincoln's 
person:  "  Lincoln  sat  down  with  great  dig- 
nity, and  sitting  down  is  a  very  extreme 
test  of  the  character  of  physical  construc- 
tion. Lincoln  sat  well,  superbly.  .  .  . 
He  stood  well,  and,  above  all,  unassum- 
ingly and  naturally.  In  nearly  all  of  his 
full-length  portraits  there  is  seen  a  phys- 
ical and  mental  concentration  very  rare; 
that  is,  his  body,  hips,  and  arms  kept  to- 
gether. Whenever  there  is  an  articula- 
tion in  action,  like  the  bend  of  the  wrist, 
ankle,  or  arm,  there  is  inevitably  grace 
and  strength,  effects  never  produced  by 
mean  joints  or  uncouth  physical  construc- 
tion. Lincoln's  joints  were  elastic,  easy, 
and  strong  in  make  and  movements." 


REMINISCENCES    OF    MEN    AND    EVENTS    OF    THE 

CIVIL   WAR. 

By  Charles  A.  Dana, 
Assistant  Secretary  of  War  from  1863  to  1865. 

ILLUSTRATED  WITH  PORTRAITS  FROM  THE  WAR  DEPARTMENT  COLLECTION  OF 

CIVIL   WAR    PHOTOGRAPHS. 

IV. 

IN   COUNCIL   AND    IN   BATTLE   WITH    ROSECRANS   AND    THOMAS.— A 
VISIT    TO    BURNSIDE   AT    KNOXVILLE. 


FROM  Vicksburg  I  went  early  in  July 
to  Washington  to  report  to  the  Sec- 
retary of  War.  I  was  the  first  man  to 
reach  the  capital  from  Vicksburg,  and 
everybody  wanted  to  hear  the  story  and 
to  ask  questions.  I  was  anxious  to  get 
home  and  see  my  family,  however,  and 
left  for  New  York  as  soon  as  I  could  get 
away.  A  few  days  after  I  arrived  in  New 
York,  I  received  an  invitation  to  go  into 
business  there  with  Mr.  Ketchum,  a  banker, 
and  with  George  Opdyke,  the  merchant. 
I  wrote  Mr.  Stanton  of  the  opening,  but 
he  urged  me  to  remain  in  the  War  Depart- 
ment as  one  of  his  assistants,  which  I  con- 
sented to  do.* 

The  first    commission  with    which    Mr. 

•  Although  appointed  some  months  before,  Mr.  Dana 
was  not  nominated  in  the  Senate  as  Second  Assistant  Secre- 
tary of  War  until  January  20,  1864 ;  the  nomination  was 
confirmed  January  26th.— Editor. 


Stanton  charged  me  after  my  appointment 
as  his  assistant  was  one  similar  to  that 
which  I  had  just  finished — to  go  to  Ten- 
nessee to  observe  and  report  the  move- 
ments of  Rosecrans  against  Bragg.  My 
orders  were  to  report  directly  to  Rose- 
crans's  headquarters.  I  carried  the  fol- 
lowing letter  of  introduction  to  that  gen- 
eral: 

War  Department, 
Washington  City,  August  30,  1863. 
Major-General  Rosecrans, 

Commanding,  etc. 
General :  This  will  introduce  to  you  Charles  A. 
Dana,  Esq.,  one  of  my  assistants,  who  visits  your 
command  for  the  purpose  of  conferring  with  you  upon 
any  subject  which  you  may  desire  to  have  brought  to 
the  notice  of  the  department.  Mr.  Dana  is  a  gentle- 
man of  distinguished  character,  patriotism,  and  abil- 
ity, and  possesses  the  entire  confidence  of  the  depart- 
ment.   You  will  please  afford  to  him  the  courtesy  and 


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34» 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF    THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


consideration  which  he  merits,  and  explain  to  him 
fully  any  matters  which  you  may  desire,  through  him, 
to  bring  to  the  notice  of  the  department. 
Yours  truly, 

Edwin  M.  Stanton. 

As  soon  as  my  papers  arrived,  I  left  for 
my  post,  going  by  Cincinnati  and  Louisville 
to  Nashville,  where  I  found  General  Rob- 
ert S.  Granger  in  command.  As  he  and 
Governor  Johnson  were  going  to  the  front 
in  a  day  or  two,  I  waited  to  go  with  them. 
The  morning  after  my  arrival  at  Nashville, 
I  went  to  call  on  Johnson.  I  had  never 
met  him  before.  He  was  a  short  and 
stocky  man,  of  dark  complexion,  smooth 
face,  dark  hair,  and  dark  eyes,  and  of 
great  determination  of  appearance.  When 
I  went  to  see  him  in  his  office,  the  first 
thing  he  said  was: 

**  Will  you  have  a  drink?  ** 

•*  Yes,  I  will/*  I  answered.  So  he 
brought  out  a  jug  of  whisky,  and  poured 
out  as  much  as  he  wanted  in  a  tumbler, 
and  then  made  it  about  half  and  half 
water.  The  theoretical,  philosophical 
drinker  pours  out  a  little  whisky  and  puts 
in  almost  no  water  at  all — drinks  it  pretty- 
nearly  pure;  but  when  a  man  gets  to  tak- 
ing a  good  deal  of  water  in  his  whisky,  it 
shows  he  is  in  the  habit  of  drinking  a 
good  deal.  I  noticed  that  the  Governor 
took  more  whisky  than  most  gentlemen 
would  have  done*  and  I  concluded  that 
he  took  it  pretty  often. 

I    had   a   prolonged    conversation   that 


morning  with  Governor  Johnson,  who  ex- 
pressed himself  in  cheering  terms  in  regard 
to  the  general  condition  of  Tennessee.  He 
regarded  the  occupation  of  Knoxville  by 
Burnside  as  completing  the  permanent 
expulsion  of  Confederate  power,  and  said 
he  should  order  a  general  election  for  the 
first  week  in  October.  He  declared  that 
slavery  was  destroyed  in  fact,  but  must  be 
abolished  legally.  Johnson  was  thoroughly 
in  favor  of  immediate  emancipation,  both 
as  a  matter  of  moral  right  and  as  an  indis- 
pensable condition  of  the  large  immigra- 
tion of  industrious  freemen  which  he 
thought  necessary  to  repeople  and  regen- 
erate the  State. 

On  the  ioth  of  September  we  started 
for  the  front,  going  by  rail  to  Bridgeport, 
on  the  Tennessee  River.  On  reaching  the 
town,  we  heard  that  Chattanooga  had  been 
occupied  by  Crittenden's  Corps  of  Rose- 
crans's  army  the  day  before,  September 
9th;  so  the  next  day,  September  nth,  I 
pushed  on  there  by  horseback,  past  Shell- 
mound  and  Wauhatchie.  The  country 
through  which  I  passed  is  a  magnificent 
region  of  rocks  and  valleys,  and  I  don't 
believe  there  is  anywhere  a  finer  view  than 
that  I  had  from  Lookout  Mountain  as  I 
approached  Chattanooga. 

AT    CHATTANOOGA    WITH     ROSECRANS. 

When  I  reached  Chattanooga,  I  at  once 
went  to  General  Rosecrans*s  headquarters 


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m-KX     •••.'«.  S-»  «.X  »>      •      ^        »  .       >»  .  •    Vx        .X      '    »  |      i»  *-.  J..  Xx 


>  -    -x*j    •«x»    .vtrc«.mC»    CIXUC 


»*     ^     *  •  «.  % 


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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


349 


A   STPEET   IN   CHATTANOOGA    IN    1864. 


and  presented  my  letter.  He  read  it,  and 
then  burst  out  in  angry  abuse  of  the  Gov- 
ernment at  Washington.  He  had  not 
been  sustained,  he  said;  his  requests  had 
been  ignored,  his  plans  thwarted.  Both 
Stanton  and  Halleck  had  done  all  they 
could,  he  declared,  to  prevent  his  suc- 
cess. 

"General  Rosecrans,"  I  said,  "I  have 
no  authority  to  listen  to  complaints 
against  the  Government.  I  was  sent  here 
for  the  purpose  of  finding  out  what  the 
Government  could  do  to  aid  you,  and  have 
no  right  to  confer  with  you  on  other 
matters." 

He  at  once  quieted  down  and  explained 
his  situation  to  me.  He  had  reached 
Chattanooga,  he  said,  on  the  ioth,  with 
the  last  of  Crittenden's  (the  Twenty-first) 
Corps,  the  town  having  been  evacuated  the 
day  before  by  the  Confederates.  As  all 
the  reports  brought  in  seemed  to  indicate 
that  the  Confederates  under  Bragg  were 
in  full  retreat  towards  Rome,  Georgia, 
Crittenden  had  immediately  started  in  pur- 
suit, and  had  gone  as  far  as  Ringgold.  On 
the  night  before  (September  nth),  it  had 
seemed  evident  that  Bragg  had  abandoned 
his  retreat  on  Rome,  and  behind  the  cur- 
tain of  the  woods  and  hills  had  returned. 

This  was  a  serious  matter  for  Rose- 
crans,  if  true,  for  at  that  moment  his  army 
was   scattered    over   a    line    about     fifty 


miles  long,  extending  from  Chattanooga 
on  the  north  to  Alpine  on  the  south.  This 
wide  separation  of  the  corps  had  been 
necessary,  Rosecrans  told  me,  because  of 
the  character  of  the  country,  there  being 
no  way  for  an  army  to  get  through  but 
by  the  gaps  in  the  mountain,  and  these 
were  far  apart.  He  pointed  out  to  me 
the  positions  on  the  map  :  Crittenden, 
with  the  Twenty-first  Corps,  was  in  the 
valley  of  the  West  Chickamauga,  near  a 
place  known  as  Lee  and  Gordon's  Mills; 
Thomas,  who  commanded  the  Fourteenth 
Corps,  was  perhaps  twenty-five  miles  south 
of  Chattanooga,  at  Stevens's  Gap,  having 
crossed  his  troops  over  Lookout  Moun- 
tain; while  McCook,  with  the  Twentieth 
Corps,  was  at  Alpine,  fully  thirty-five  miles 
south  of  Crittenden.  The  reserve,  under 
Gordon  Granger,  was  still  north  of  the 
Tennessee,  but  rapidly  coming  up. 

AT    GENERAL    THOMAS'S    HEADQUARTERS. 

The  next  day  (the  13th)  I  left  Chatta- 
nooga with  Rosecrans  and  his  staff  for 
Thomas's  headquarters  at  Stevens's  Gap. 
We  found  everything  progressing  favor- 
ably there.  The  movements  for  the  con- 
centration of  the  three  corps  were  going 
forward  with  energy.  Scouts  were  com- 
ing in  constantly,  who  reported  that  the 
enemy    had    withdrawn    from    the    basin 


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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


where  our  array  was  assembling;  that  he 
was  evacuating  Lafayette  and  moving 
toward  Rome.  It  seemed  as  if  at  last  the 
Army  of  the  Cumberland  had  practically 
gained  a  position  from  which  it  could 
effectually  advance  upon  Rome  and  At- 
lanta, and  deliver  there  the  finishing  blow 
of  the  war.  The  difficulties  of  gaining  this 
position,of  crossing  the  Cumberland  Moun- 
tains, passing  the  Tennessee,  turning  and 
occupying  Chattanooga,  traversing  the 
mountain  ridges  of  northern  Georgia, 
and  seizing  the  passes  which  led  southward, 
had  been  enormous.  It  was  only  when  I 
came  personally  to  examine  the  region 
that  I  appreciated  what  had  been  done. 
These  difficulties  were  all  substantially 
overcome.  The  army  was  in  the  best 
possible  condition,  and  was  advancing 
with  all  the  rapidity  which  the  nature  of 
the  country  allowed.  Our  left  flank, 
toward  East  Tennessee,  was  covered  by 
Burnside,  and  the  only  disadvantage  which 
I  could  see  was  that  a  sudden  movement 
of  the  enemy  to  our  right  might  endanger 
our  long  and  precarious  line  of  communi- 
cations and  compel  us  to  retreat  again 
beyond  the  Tennessee.  I  felt  this  so  keenly 
that  I  urged  Mr.  Stanton,  in  a  despatch 
sent  to  him  on  the  14th  from  Thomas's 
headquarters,  to  push  as  strong  a  column 
as  possible  eastward  from  Corinth  in  north- 
eastern Mississippi.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
it  would  be  better  to  recall  the  troops  from 
the  West  rather  than  to  risk  a  check  here, 
where  the  heart  of  the  rebellion  was  within 
reach  and  the  final  blow  all  prepared.  But 
after  all  there  was  something  of  a  mystery 
about  the  real  location  of  Bragg's  army, 
its  strength,  and  the  designs  of  its  chief. 
At  any  rate  it  was  soon  manifest  that 
Bragg  was  not  withdrawing  to  the  south- 
ward, as  at  first  supposed.  Some  queer 
developments  down  the  Chickamauga  on 
the  16th  and  17th  caused  Rosecrans  con- 
siderable anxiety  for  Chattanooga.  The 
impression  began  to  grow,  too,  that  Bragg 
had  been  playing  'possum,  and  had  not 
retreated  at  all.  Rosecrans  at  once  aban- 
doned all  idea  of  operations  against  the 
Confederate  line  of  retreat  and  supply, 
drew  his  army  in  rapidly,  and  began  to 
look  sharply  after  his  own  communications 
with  Chattanooga,  which  had  now  become 
his  base. 

By  noon  of  September  18th  this  concen- 
tration of  the  army  at  and  above  Crawfish 
Spring,  on  the  creek,  was  practically  com- 
plete. The  troops  then  lay  up  and  down 
the  valley,  with  West  Chickamauga  Creek 
in  front  of  the  greater  part  of  our  lines. 


The  left  was  held  by  Crittenden,  the  cen- 
ter by  Thomas,  the  right  by  McCook, 
whose  troops  were  now  all  in  the  valley, 
except  one  brigade.  The  army  had  not 
concentrated  any  too  soon,  for  that  very 
afternoon  (the  18th)  the  enemy  appeared 
on  our  left,  and  a  considerable  engagement 
occurred.  It  was  said  at  headquarters  that 
a  battle  was  certain  the  next  day,  and  the 
only  point  Rosecrans  had  not  determined 
at  five  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
18th  was  whether  to  make  a  night  march 
and  fall  on  Bragg  at  daylight,  or  to  await 
his  onset. 

SEPTEMBER    I9TH    AT    CHICKAMAUGA. 

But  that  night  it  became  pretty  clear  to 
all  that  Bragg's  plan  was  to  push  by  our  left 
into  Chattanooga.  This  compelled  another 
rapid  movement  by  the  left  down  the 
Chickamauga.  By  a  tiresome  night  march 
Thomas  moved  down  past  Crittenden  and 
below  Lee  and  Gordon's  Mills,  taking  po- 
sition in  the  vicinity  of  a  little  house  known 
as  the  Widow  Glenn's  and  below,  cover- 
ing the  Rossville  road,  and  now  forming 
the  left  of  the  Union  army.  Crittenden 
followed,  connecting  with  Thomas's  right, 
thus  taking  position  in  the  center.  Mc- 
Cook's  corps  also  extended  down  stream 
to  the  left,  but  still  covered  the  creek  as 
high  up  as  Crawfish  Spring,  while  part  of 
his  troops  acted  as  a  reserve.  These  move- 
ments were  hurriedly  made,  and  the  troops, 
especially  those  of  Thomas,  were  very 
much  exhausted  by  their  efforts  to  get 
into  position. 

Rosecrans  had  not  been  mistaken  in 
Bragg's  intention.  About  nine  o'clock  the 
next  morning,  at  Crawfish  Spring,  where 
the  general  headquarters  were,  we  heard 
firing  on  our  left,  and  reports  at  once 
came  in  that  the  battle  had  begun  there. 
Thomas  had  barely  headed  the  Confeder- 
ates off  from  Chattanooga.  We  remained 
at  Crawfish  Spring  on  this  day  until  after 
one  o'clock,  waiting  for  the  full  propor- 
tions of  the  conflict  to  develop.  When  it 
became  evident  that  the  battle  was  being 
fought  entirely  on  our  left,  Rosecrans  re- 
moved his  headquarters  to  the  Widow 
Glenn's  house.  Although  closer  to  the 
battle,  we  could  see  no  more  of  it  here 
than  at  Crawfish  Spring,  the  conflict  being 
fought  altogether  in  a  thick  forest  and 
being  invisible  to  outsiders.  The  nature 
of  the  firing  and  the  reports  from  the  com- 
manders alone  enabled  us  to  follow  its 
progress.  That  we  were  able  to  keep  as 
thoroughly  informed  as  we  were  was  due 


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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


35* 


to  our  excellent  telegraphic  communica- 
tions. By  this  time  the  military  telegraph 
had  been  so  thoroughly  developed  that  it 
was  one  of  the  most  useful  accessories  of 
an  army,  even  on  a  battlefield.  For  in- 
stance, after  Rosecrans  had  taken  Crawfish 
Spring  as  his  headquarters,  he  had  given 
orders,  on  September  17th,  to  connect  the 
place  with  Chattanooga,  thirteen  miles  to 
the   northwest.     The  line  was  completed 


GENERAL  WILLIAM   STARKE   ROSECRANS.      BORN    IN    1819. 

He  was  a  native  of  Ohio,  graduated  at  West  Point  in  1843,  but  resigned  from  the  army  in  1854.  He 
entered  the  war  as  a  volunteer  aide  to  General  McQellan,  and  served  to  the  close.  His  most  decisive 
victory  was  Corinth,  October  3  and  4,  186a,  which  caused  his  elevation  to  the  command  of  the  Army 
of  the  Cumberland,  with  which  he  fought  the  battles  of  Stone's  River  and  Chickamauga.  Since  the 
war  he  has  been  Minister  to  Mexico,  four  years  a  Congressman  from  California,  and  Register  of  the 
Treasury.    He  is  now  a  resident  of  California. 

after  the  battle  began  on  the  19th,  and  we 
were  in  communication,  not  only  with 
Chattanooga,  but  with  Granger  at  Ross- 
ville  and  with  Thomas  at  his  headquarters. 
When  Rosecrans  removed  to  the  Widow 
Glenn's,  the  telegraphers  went  along,  and 
in  an  hour  had  connections  made  and  an 
instrument  clicking  away  in  Mrs.  Glenn's 
house.  We  thus  had  constant  information 
of  the  way  the  battle  was  going,  not  only 
from  the   orderlies,    but   from  the  wires. 


This  excellent  arrangement  enabled  me 
also  to  keep  the  Government  at  Washing- 
ton informed  of  the  progress  of  the  battle. 
I  sent  eleven  despatches  that  day  to  Mr. 
Stanton.  They  were  very  brief,  but  they 
reported  all  that  I,  near  as  I  was  to  the 
scene,  knew  of  the  battle  of  September 
19th  at  Chickamauga. 

It  was  not  until  after  dark  that  firing 
ceased  and  final  reports  began  to  come  in. 
From  these  we  found  that 
the  enemy  had  been  de- 
feated in  his  attempt  to 
turn  and  crush  our  left 
flank  and  secure  posses- 
sion of  the  Chattanooga 
roads;  but  that  he  was 
not  wholly  defeated,  for 
he  still  held  his  ground 
in  several  places,  and  was 
preparing,  it  was  be- 
lieved, to  renew  the  bat- 
tie  the  next  day. 

A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR. 

That     evening     Rose- 
crans   decided     that,     if 
Bragg  did  not  retreat,  he 
would  renew  the  fight  at 
daylight,    and  a   council 
of  war  was  held  at  our 
headquarters  at  the  Wid- 
ow Glenn's,  to  which   all 
the    corps    and    division 
commanders    were,  sum- 
moned.   There  must  have 
been  ten  or  twelve  gen- 
eral   officers    present. 
Rosecrans  began  by  ask- 
ing   each    of    the   corps 
commanders  for  a  report 
of   the   condition   of   his 
troops  and  of   the  posi- 
tions they  occupied,  and 
also    for    his   opinion    of 
what    was    to    be   done. 
Each      proposition     was 
discussed   by   the   entire 
council  as  it  was  made. 
General  Thomas  was  so  tired — he  had  not 
slept  at  all  the  night  before,   and  he  had 
been  in  battle  all  day — that  he  kept  falling 
asleep.     Every  time   Rosecrans  spoke  to 
him,  hewouldstraighten  up  and  answer,  but 
he  always  said  the  same  thing:   M  I  would 
strengthen  the  left;"  and  then  he  would 
be  asleep,  sitting  up  in  his  chair.     General 
Rosecrans,  to  the  proposition  to  strengthen 
the    left,     made   always  the  same  reply: 


44  Where  are  we  going  to  take  it  from  ?  " 
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352 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


After  the  discussion  was  ended,  Rose- 
crans  gave  his  orders  for  the  disposition  of 
the  troops  on  the  following  day.  Thomas's 
corps  was  to  remain  on  the  left,  with  his 
line  somewhat  drawn  in  and  refused,  but 
substantially  as  he  was  at  the  close  of  the 
day ;  McCook  was  to  close  on  Thomas,  and 
cover  the  position  at  Widow  Glenn's;  and 
Crittenden  was  to  have  two  divisions  in  re- 
serve near  the  junction  of  McCook's  and 
Thomas's  lines,  to  be  able  to  succor  either. 
These  orders  were  written  for  each  corps 
commander.  They  were  also  read  in  the 
presence  of  ail,  and  the  plans  fully  ex- 
plained. Finally,  after  everything  had  been 
said,  hot  coffee  was  brought  in,  and  then 
McCook  was  called  upon  by  Rosecrans  to 
sing  "  The  Hebrew  Maiden."  McCook 
sang  the  song,  and  then  the  council  broke 
up,  and  the  generals  went  away.  This  was 
about  midnight;  and  as  I  was  very  tired,  I 
lay  down  on  the  floor  to  sleep  beside  Cap- 
tain Horace  Porter,  who  was  at  that  time 
Rosecrans's  Chief  of  Ordnance.  But  we 
would  hardly  be  asleep  before  the  wind 
would  blow  up  so  cold  through  the  cracks 
in  the  floor  of  the  Widow  Glenn's  house 
that  it  would  wake  us  up,  and  we  would 
have  to  turn  over  together  to  keep  warm. 

SEPTEMBER    20TH    AT    CHICKAMAUGA. 

At  daybreak  we  at  headquarters  were 
all  up  and  on  our  horses  ready  to  go  with 
the  commanding  general  to  inspect  our 
lines.  We  rode  past  McCook,  Crittenden, 
and  Thomas  to  the  extreme  left,  Rose- 
crans giving,  as  he  went,  the  orders  he 
thought  necessary  to  strengthen  the  several 
positions.  The  general  intention  of  these 
orders  was  to  close  up  on  the  left,  where 
it  was  evident  the  attack  would  begin. 
We  then  rode  back  to  the  extreme  right, 
Rosecrans  stopping  at  each  point  to  see 
if  his  orders  had  been  obeyed.  In  several 
cases  they  had  not  been,  and  he  made 
them  more  peremptory.  When  we  found 
that  McCook's  line  had  been  elongated  so 
that  it  was  a  mere  thread,  Rosecrans  was 
very  angry,  and  sent  for  the  general,  re- 
buking him  severely;  although,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  General  McCook's  position 
had  been  taken  under  the  written  orders 
of  the  commander-in-chief,  given  the  night 
before. 

About  half-past  eight  or  nine  o'clock 
the  battle  began  again  on  the  left,  where 
Thomas  was.  At  that  time  Rosecrans,  with 
whom  I  always  remained,  was  on  the  right, 
directing  the  movements  of  the  troops 
there.     I  had  not  slept  much  for  two  nights, 


and  as  it  was  warm,  I  dismounted  about 
noon,  and  giving  my  horse  to  my  orderly, 
lay  down  on  the  grass  and  went  to  sleep. 
I  was  wakened  by  the  most  infernal  noise  I 
ever  heard.  Never  in  any  battle  I  had 
witnessed  was  there  such  a  discharge  of 
cannon  and  musketry.  I  sat  up  on  the 
grass,  and  the  first  thing  I  saw  was  Gen- 
eral Rosecrans  crossing  himself — he  was  a 
very  pious  Catholic.  "  Hello,"  I  said  to 
myself,  "  if  the  general  is  crossing  himself, 
we  are  in  a  desperate  situation." 

I  was  on  my  horse  in  a  moment.  I  had 
no  sooner  collected  my  thoughts  and 
looked  around  toward  the  front,  where  all 
this  din  came  from,  than  I  saw  our  lines 
break  and  melt  away  like  leaves  before 
the  wind.  Then  the  headquarters  around 
me  disappeared.  The  gray-backs  came 
through  with  a  rush,  and  soon  the  musket 
balls  and  the  cannon  shot  began  to  reach 
the  place  where  we  stood.  The  whole  right 
of  the  army  had  apparently  been  routed. 
My  orderly  stuck  to  me  like  a  veteran,  and 
we  drew  back  for  greater  safety  into  the 
woods  a  little  way.  There  I  came  upon 
General  Porter  (Captain  Porter  it  was 
then)  and  Captain  Drouillard — an  aide-de- 
camp infantry  officer  attached  to  General 
Rosecrans's  staff — halting  fugitives.  They 
would  halt  a  few  of  them,  get  them  into 
some  sort  of  a  line,  and  make  a  beginning 
of  order  among  them;  and  then  there 
would  come  a  few  rounds  of  cannon  shot 
through  the  treetops  over  their  heads,  and 
the  men  would  break  and  run.  I  saw 
Porter  and  Drouillard  plant  themselves  in 
front  of  a  body  of  these  stampeding  men 
and  command  them  to  halt.  One  man 
charged  with  his  bayonet,  menacing  Por- 
ter, but  Porter  held  his  ground,  and  the 
man  gave  in.  That  was  the  only  case  of 
real  mutiny  that  I  ever  saw  in  the  army, 
and  it  was  under  such  circumstances  that 
the  man  was  excusable.  The  cause  of  all 
this  disaster  was  the  charge  of  the  Con- 
federates though  a  hiatus  in  our  line, 
caused  by  the  withdrawal  of  Wood's  divi- 
sion, under  a  misapprehension  of  orders, 
before  its  place  could  be  filled. 

I  attempted  to  make  my  way  from  this 
point  in  the  woods  to  Sheridan's  division, 
but  when  I  reached  the  position  where  I 
knew  it  had  been  placed  a  little  time  be- 
fore, I  found  it  had  been  swept  from  the 
field.  Not  far  away,  however,  I  stumbled 
on  a  body  of  organized  troops.  This  was 
a  brigade  of  mounted  riflemen  under  Colo- 
nel John  T.  Wilder,  of  Indiana.  "  Mr. 
Dana,"  asked  Colonel  Wilder,  "what  is 
the  situation  ? " 


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CHARLES  A.  DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


353 


"  I  do  not  know,"  I  said,  "  except  that 
this  end  of  the  army  has  been  routed. 
There  is  still  heavy  fighting  on  the  left 
front,  and  our  troops  seem  to  be  holding 
their  ground  there  yet." 


GENERAL    CKOKGB    H.    THOMAS.       BORN    IN    l8l6  J     DIED    IN    187O. 

From  a  photograph  taken  at  Nashville  in  1865,  and  now  owned  by  William  H.  Lambert.  General 
Thomas,  a  native  of  Virginia,  graduated  at  West  Point  in  1640 ;  served  through  the  Seminole  and  Mexican 
wars  and  the  Civil  War,  and  remained  in  the  army  until  his  death.  He  distinguished  himself  especially 
in  the  battles  of  Mill  Springs,  Murfreesborough,  Chickamauga,  and  Nashville.  He  commanded  the  Army 
of  the  Cumberland  from  the  retirement  of  Rosecrans,  October,  1863.  to  the  close  of  the  war. 


"Will  you  give  me  any  orders?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  have  no  authority  to  give  orders,"  I 
replied;  "  but  if  I  were  in  your  situation,  I 
should  go  to  the  left,  where  Thomas  is." 

Then  I  turned  my  horse,  and  making 
my  way  over  Missionary  Ridge,  struck 
the  Chattanooga  valley  and  rode  to  Chat- 


tanooga, twelve  or  fifteen  miles  away. 
Everything  on  the  route  was  in  the  great- 
est disorder.  The  whole  road  was  filled 
with  flying  soldiers,  and  here  and  there 
were  piled  up  pieces  of  artillery,  caissons, 
and  baggage  wagons. 
When  I  reached  Chat- 
tanooga, a  little  before 
four  o'clock,  I  found 
Rosecrans  there.  In 
the  helter-skelter  to  the 
rear,  he  had  escaped  by 
the  Rossville  road.  He 
was  expecting  every 
moment  that  the  enemy 
would  arrive  before  the 
town,  and  was  doing  all 
he  could  to  prepare  to 
resist  his  entrance. 
Soon  after  I  arrived, 
the  two  corps  comman- 
ders, McCook  and  Crit- 
tenden, both  came  into 
Chattanooga. 

The  first  thing  I  did 
on  reaching  the  town 
was  to  telegraph  to  Mr. 
Stanton.  I  had  not  sent 
him  any  telegrams  in 
the  morning,  for  I  had 
•  been  in  the  field  with 
Rosecrans,  and  part  of 
the  time  at  some  dis- 
tance from  the  Widow 
Glenn's,  where  the  op- 
erators were  at  work. 
The  boys  kept  at  their 
post  there  until  the 
Confederates  swept 
them  out  of  the  house. 
When  they  had  to  run, 
they  went  instruments 
and  tools  in  hand,  and 
as  soon  as  out  of  reach 
of  the  enemy  set  up  shop 
on  a  stump.  It  was  not 
long  before  they  were 
driven  out  of  this.  They 
next  attempted  to  es- 
tablish an  office  on  the 
Rossville  road,  but  be- 
fore they  had  succeeded 
in  making  connections, 
a  battle  was  raging  around  them,  and  they 
had  to  retreat  to  Granger's  headquarters 
at  Rossville. 

Having  been  swept  bodily  off  the  bat- 
tlefield, and  having  made  my  way  into 
Chattanooga  through  a  panic-stricken  rab- 
ble, the  first  telegram  I  sent  to  Mr.  Stan- 
ton was  naturally  colored  by  what  I  had 


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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


seen  and  experienced,  I  remember  that  I 
began  the  despatch  by  saying,  "  My  report 
to-day  is  of  deplorable  importance.  Chick- 
amauga  is  as  fatal  a  name  in  our  history 
as  Bull  Run."  By  eight  o'clock  that  even- 
ing, however,  I  found  I  had  given  too 
dark  a  view  of  the  disaster. 


THE    ROCK    OF   CHICKAMAUGA. 

Early  the  next  morning  things  looked 
still  better.  Rosecrans  received  a  tele- 
gram from  Thomas  at  Rossville,  to  which 
point  he  had  withdrawn  after  nightfall,  say- 
ing that  his  troops  were  in  high  spirits  and 
that  he  had  brought  off  all  his  wounded.  A 
little  while  before  noon,  General  James  A. 
Garfield,  who  was  chief  of  Rosecrans's 
staff,  arrived  in  Chattanooga  and  gave  us 
the  first  connected  account  we  had  of  the 
battle  on  the  left  after  the  rout.  Thomas, 
finding  himself  cut  off  from  Rosecrans  and 
the  right,  at  once  marshaled  the  remain- 
ing divisions  for  independent  fighting. 
Refusing  both  his  right  and  left,  his  line 
assumed  the  form  of  a  horseshoe,  posted 
along  the  slope  and  crest  of  a  partly 
wooded  ridge.  He  was  soon  joined  by 
Gordon  Granger  from  Rossville,  with 
Steedman  and  most  of  the  reserve,  and 
with  these  forces,  more  than  two-thirds  of 
the  army,  he  firmly  maintained  the  fight 
till  after  dark.  Our  troops  were  as  im- 
movable as  the  rocks  they  stood  on.  Long- 
street  hurled  against  them  repeatedly  the 
dense  columns  which  had  routed  Davis  and 
Sheridan  in  the  early  afternoon,  but  every 
onset  was  repulsed  with  dreadful  slaughter. 
Falling  first  on  one  and  then  another  point 
of  our  lines,  for  hours  the  rebels  vainly 
sought  to  break  them.  Thomas  seemed  to 
have  filled  every  soldier  with  his  own  un- 
conquerable firmness;  and  Granger,  his  hat 
torn  by  bullets,  raged  like  a  lion,  wherever 
the  combat  was  hottest,  with  the  electrical 
courage  of  a  Ney.  When  night  fell  this 
body  of  heroes  stood  on  the  same  ground 
they  had  occupied  at  the  outset,  their  spirit 
unbroken,  but  their  numbers  greatly  di- 
minished. 


PREPARING    TO    DEFEND    CHATTANOOGA. 

All  the  news  we  could  get  of  the  enemy's 
movements  on  the  21st  seemed  to  show 
that  the  Confederates  were  concentrating 
on  Chattanooga.  Accordingly  Rosecrans 
gave  orders  for  all  our#troops  to  gather  in 
the  town  at  once  and  prepare  for  the  at- 
tack which  would  probably  take  place 
within   a  day  or  two.     By   midnight  the 


army  was  in  Chattanooga.  The  troops 
were  in  wonderful  spirits,  considering  their 
excessive  fatigues  and  heavy  losses,  and 
the  next  morning  went  to  work  with  energy 
on  the  fortifications.  All  the  morning  of 
the  2 2d  the  enemy  were  approaching,  re- 
sisted by  our  advance  parties,  and  by  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  the  artillery  firing 
was  so  near  that  it  seemed  certain  that  the 
battle  would  be  fought  before  dark.  No 
attack  was  made  that  day,  however,  nor 
the  next,  and  by  the  morning  of  the  24th 
the  herculean  labors  of  the  army  had  so 
fortified  the  place  that  it  was  certain  that 
it  could  only  be  taken  by  a  regular  siege 
or  a  turning  movement.  The  strength  of 
our  forces  was  about  45,000  effective  men, 
and  we  had  ten  days'  full  rations  on  hand. 
Chattanooga  could  hold  out,  but  it  was 
apparent  that  no  offensive  operations  were 
possible  until  reinforcements  came.  These 
we  knew  had  been  hurried  towards  us  as 
soon  as  the  news  of  the  disaster  of  the 
20th  reached  Washington.  Burnside  was 
coming  from  Knoxville,  we  supposed; 
Hooker  had  been  ordered  from  Washington 
by  rail,  Sherman  from  Vicksburg,  and  some 
of  Hurlbut's  troops  from  Memphis. 

EFFECT    ON    THE    ARMY     OF     THE    DISASTER 
OF   SEPTEMBER    20TH. 

As  soon  as  we  felt  reasonably  sure  that 
Chattanooga  could  hold  out  until  rein- 
forcements came,  the  disaster  of  the  20th 
of  September  became  the  absorbing  topic 
of  conversation  in  the  Army  of  the  Cum- 
berland. At  headquarters,  in  camp,  in  the 
street,  on  the  fortifications,  officers  and 
soldiers  and  citizens  wrangled  over  the 
reasons  for  the  loss  of  the  day.  By  the 
end  of  the  first  week  after  the  disaster  a 
serious  fermentation  reigned  in  the  Twen- 
tieth and  Twenty-first  Army  Corps,  grow- 
ing out  of  events  connected  with  the  bat- 
tle. 

There  was  at  once  a  manifest  disposition 
to  hold  McCook  and  Crittenden,  the  com- 
manders of  the  two  corps,  responsible 
because  they  had  left  the  field  of  battle 
amid  the  rout  of  the  right  wing  and  made 
their  way  to  Chattanooga.*     It  was  not 

•  The  feeling  of  the  army  towards  McCook  and  Critten- 
den was  afterwards  greatly  modified.  A  court  of  inquiry 
examined  their  cases,  and  in  February,  1864,  gave  its  final 
finding  and  opinion.  McCook  it  relieved  entirely  from  re- 
sponsibility for  the  reverse  of  September  aoth,  declaring 
that  the  small  force  at  his  disposal  was  inadequate  to  defend, 
against  greatly  superior  numbers,  the  long  line  he  had  taken 
under  instructions,  and  adding  that,  after  the  line  was 
broken,  he  had  done  everything  he  could  to  rally  and  hold 
his  troops,  giving  the  necessary  orders  to  his  subordinates. 
General  Crittenden's  conduct,  the  court  likewise  declared, 
showed  no  cause  for  censure,  and  he  was  in  no  way  re- 
sponsible for  the  disaster  to  the  right  wing. 


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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


355 


generally  understood  or  appreciated  at  that 
time  that  because  of  Thomas's  repeated 
calls  for  aid,  and  Rosecrans's  consequent 
alarm  for  his  left,  Crittenden  had  been 
stripped  of  all  his  troops  and  had  no  in- 


GENBRAL  JAMES  A.   GARFIELD.      BORN    IN    1831  ;   DIED    IN 

Entering  the  army  as  a  lieutenant-colonel  of  volunteers  In  1861,  Garfield  was  promoted  to  brigadier-general  in 
186a  and  to  major-general  In  1863.  He  served  as  chief  of  staff  to  General  Rosecrans  from  February,  1861,  to  Octo- 
ber, 1863.  Meanwhile  he  had  been  elected  to  Congress.  He  served  there  until  March  4.  1880.  when  he  went  to  the 
Senate.    March  4, 1881,  he  became  President.    He  was  shot  July  a,  1881,  by  Guiteau,  and  died  September  19. 


fantry  whatever  left  to  command,  and  that 
McCook's  lines  also  had  been  reduced  to  a 
fragment  by  similar  orders  from  Rosecrans 
and  by  fighting.  A  strong  opposition  to 
both  sprang  up,  which  my  telegrams  to 
Mr.  Stanton  immediately  after  the  battle 
fully  reflect.     The  generals  of  division  and 


of  brigade  felt  the  situation  deeply,  and 
said  that  they  could  no  longer  serve  under 
such  superiors,  and  that,  if  this  was  required 
of  them,  they  must  resign.  This  feeling 
was  universal  among  them,  including  men 

like  Major-Gen- 
erals  Palmer  and 
Sheridan  and 
Brigadier-Gener- 
als Wood,  John- 
son,  and  Ha- 
zen. 

The  feeling  of 
these  officers  did 
not  seem  in  the 
least  to  partake 
of  a  mutinous  or 
disorderly  char- 
acter; it  was 
rather  conscien- 
tious unwilling- 
ness to  risk  their 
men  and  the 
country'scausein 
hands  which  they 
thought  to  be  un- 
safe. No  formal 
representation  of 
this  unwilling- 
ness was  made  to 
Rosecrans,  but 
he  was  made 
aware  of  the 
state  of  things  by 
private  conversa- 
tions with  several 
of  the  parties. 
The  defects  of  his 
character  com- 
plicated the  diffi- 
c  u  1 1  y  .  He 
abounded  in 
friendliness  and 
approbativeness, 
and  was  greatly 
lacking  in  firm- 
ness and  steadi- 
ness of  will.  In 
short,  he  was  a 
temporizing  man; 
he  dreaded  so 
heavy  an  alterna- 
tive as  was.  now 
presented,  and 
McCook   and   Crit- 


hated   to  break  with 
tenden. 

It  was  the  same  in  regard  to  Negley. 
Rosecrans  claimed  that  Negley  had  with- 
drawn his  division  from  the  battle  on  Sun- 
day without  orders  and  with  his  ranks  un- 
disturbed.     When  this  was  stated  to  me 

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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


by  Rosecrans  as  a  fact,  I  said  then  Negley 
ought  to  be  shot;  and  he  answered,  "  That 
is  my  opinion/'  He  added  that  he  should 
have  him  punished;  yet  he  determined  to 
do  nothing  more  than  apply  to  have  him 
relieved  and  ordered  elsewhere. 

Besides,  there  was  a  more  serious  obsta- 
cle to  Rosecrans's  acting  decisively  in 
the  fact  that,  if  Crittenden  and  McCook 
had  gone  to  Chattanooga,  he  had  gone 
also.  It  might  be  said  in  his  excuse,  that, 
under  the  circumstances  of  the  sudden  rout, 
it  was  perfectly  proper  for  the  command- 
ing general  to  go  to  the  rear  to  prepare  the 
next  line  of  defence  ;  still  Rosecrans  felt 
that  that  excuse  could  not  entirely  clear 
him  either  in  his  own  eyes  or  in  those  of 
the  army.  In  fact,  it  was  perfectly  plain 
that,  while  the  subordinate  commanders 
would  not  resign  if  he  was  retained  in  the 
chief  command,  as  I  believe  they  certainly 
would  have  done  if  McCook  and  Critten- 
den had  not  been  relieved,  their  respect 
for  him  as  a  general  had  received  an  irrep- 
arable blow. 

The  dissatisfaction  with  Rosecrans 
seemed  to  me  to  put  the  army  into  a  very 
dangerous  condition;  and,  in  writing  to 
Mr.  Stanton  on  September  27th,  I  said 
that,  if  it  was  decided  to  cbdnge  the  chief 
commander,  I  would  suggest  that  some 
Western  commander  of  high  rank  and 
great  prestige,  like  Grant,  would  be  perfer- 
able  as  Rosecrans's  successor  to  one  who 
had  hitherto  commanded  in  the  East  alone. 

POPULARITY  OF  GENERAL  THOMAS. 

The  army,  however,  had  its  own  candi- 
date for  Rosecrans's  position.  '  General 
Thomas  had  risen  to  the  highest  point  in 
their  esteem,  as  he  had  in  that  of  everyone 
cognizant  of  his  conduct  on  that  unfor- 
tunate and  glorious  day;  and  I  saw  that, 
should  there  be  a  change  in  the  chief  com- 
mand, there  was  no  other  man  whose  ap- 
pointment would  be  so  welcome.  I  ear- 
nestly recommended  Mr.  Stanton  that,  in 
event  of  a  change,  Thomas's  merits  be 
considered.  He  was  certainly  an  officer 
of  the  very  highest  qualities,  soldierly  and 
personally.  He  was  a  man  of  the  greatest 
dignity  of  character.  He  had  more  the 
character  of  George  Washington  than  any 
other  man  I  ever  knew.  At  the  same 
time,  he  was  a  delightful  man  to  be  with; 
there  was  no  artificial  dignity  about 
Thomas.  He  was  a  West  Point  graduate 
and  very  well  educated.  He  was  very  set 
in  his  opinions,  yet  he  was  not  impatient 
with  anybody — a  noble  character. 


In  reply  to  my  recommendation  of 
Thomas,  I  received  a  telegram  from  the 
Secretary  of  War,  saying:  "  I  wish  you  to 
go  directly  to  see  General  Thomas,  and  say 
to  him  that  his  services,  his  abilities,  his 
character,  his  unselfishness,  have  always 
been  most  cordially  appreciated  by  me, 
and  that  it  is  not  my  fault  that  he  has  not 
long  since  had  command  of  an  independ- 
ent army." 

I  went  at  once  over  to  General  Thomas's 
headquarters  with  the  message.  I  remem- 
ber that  I  got  there  just  after  they  had 
finished  dinner;  the  table  was  not  cleared 
off,  but  there  was  nobody  in  the  dining- 
room.  When  General  Thomas  came  in,  I 
read  to  him  the  telegram  from  the  Secre- 
tary. He  was  too  much  affected  by  it  to 
reply  immediately.  After  a  moment  he 
said: 

"  Mr.  Dana,  I  wish  you  would  say  to 
the  Secretary  of  War  that  I  am  greatly 
affected  by  this  expression  of  his  confi- 
dence; that  I  should  have  long  since  liked 
to  have  an  independent  command;  but 
what  I  should  have  desired  would  have 
been  the  command  of  an  army  that  I  could 
myself  have  organized,  disciplined,  dis- 
tributed, and  combined.  I  wish  you  would 
add  also  that  I  would  not  like  to  take  the 
command  of  an  army  where  I  should  be 
exposed  to  the  imputation  of  having  in- 
trigued or  of  having  exercised  any  effort 
to  supplant  my  previous  commander." 

This  was  on  October  4th.  Four  days 
later  General  Thomas  sent  a  confidential 
friend  to  me,  saying  rumors  had  come  to 
him  that  he  was  to  be  put  in  Rosecrans's 
place;  that,  while  he  would  gladly  accept 
any  other  command  to  which  Mr.  Stanton 
should  see  fit  to  assign  him,  he  could  not 
consent  to  become  the  successor  of  Gen- 
eral Rosecrans.  He  would  not  do  any- 
thing to  give  countenance  to  the  suspicion 
that  he  had  intrigued  against  his  com- 
mander's interest.  He  declared  that  he 
had  perfect  confidence  in  the  fidelity  and 
capacity  of  General  Rosecrans. 

A  CHANGE  IN  THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  THE 
ARMY. 

The  first  change  in  the  Army  of  the 
Cumberland  was  an  order  from  Washing- 
ton consolidating  the  Twentieth  and 
Twenty-first  Corps,  and  placing  the  heroic 
Granger  in  command.  The  news  reached 
Chattanooga  on  October  5th,  in  the  Nash- 
ville newspaper,  and,  not  having  been  pre- 
viously promulgated,  it  caused  a  sensa- 
tion.     The    consolidation    of     the    two 


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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


357 


GENERAL   A.    E.    BURNSIDE.      BORN   IN    1824  ;    DIED    IN    1881. 

Burnside,  a  native  of  Indiana,  graduated  at  West  Point  in  1847,  and  served  throughout  the  Civil  War.  He  commanded  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
at  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg ;  was  besieged  at  Knoxville  in  1863,  while  in  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Ohio ;  and  in  1864  Joined  Grant  in  Virginia. 
He  was  Governor  of  Rhode  Island  from  1867  to  i860,  and  United  States  Senator  from  187s  *°  »88x.    Died  September  13, 1881. 


corps  was  generally  well  received,  and  as 
it  was  to  be  followed  by  a  general  reor- 
ganization of  the  army  it  seemed  as  if 
the  most  happy  consequences  would  be 
produced.  The  only  serious  difficulty 
which  followed  the  change  was  that  the 
men  in  the  consolidated  corps  were  trou- 
bled by  letters  from  home  showing  that 
their  friends  regarded  the  consolidation  as 
a  token  of  disgrace  and  punishment. 

THREATENED    WITH    STARVATION. 

Although  the  reorganization  of  the  army 
was  going  on,  there  was  no  real  change  in 
our  situation,  and  by  the  middle  of  Octo- 
ber it  began  to  look  as  if  we  were  in  a 
helpless  and  precarious  position.  No  rein- 
forcements had  yet  reached  us;  the  enemy 
was  growing  stronger  every  day;  and, 
worse  still,  we  were  threatened  with  star- 


vation. On  September  24th,  in  spite  of 
the  protest  of  Granger  and  Garfield,  Rose- 
crans  had  abandoned  Lookout  Mountain 
to  the  enemy.  His  error  was  now  apparent. 
Our  supplies  came  by  rail  from  Nashville  to 
Bridgeport;  but  the  enemy  controlled  the 
south  shore  of  the  Tennessee  between  us 
and  Bridgeport,  and  thus  prevented  us  re- 
building the  railroad  from  Bridgeport  to 
Chattanooga,  and  with  their  shore  bat- 
teries stopped  the  using  of  our  steamboats. 
They  even  made  the  road  on  the  north 
shore  impassable,  the  sharpshooters  on  the 
south  bank  being  able  to  pick  off  our  men 
on  the  north.  The  forage  and  supplies 
which  we  had  drawn  from  the  country 
within  our  reach  were  now  exhausted,  and 
we  were  dependent  upon  what  could  be 
gotten  us  over  the  roads  north  of  the 
river.  These  were  not  only  disturbed  by 
the  enemy,  but  were  so  bad  in  places  that 

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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


359 


gineer.  We  reached  Nashville  about  ten 
*  o'clock  on  the  night  of  October  20th,  and 
there  were  halted.  Directly  there  came  in 
an  officer,  I  think  it  was  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Bowers  of  General  Grant's  staff,  who  said: 

"  General  Grant  wants  to  see  you." 

This  was  the  first  that  I  knew  Grant 
was  in  Tennessee.  I  got  out  of  my  train, 
and  went  over  to  his.  I  hadn't  seen  him 
since  we  parted  at  Vicksburg. 

"  Mr.  Dana,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  I  came 
in,  "  I  am  going  to  interfere  with  your 
journey.  I  have  got  the  Secretary's  per- 
mission to  take  you  back  with  me  to  Chat- 
tanooga. I  want  you  to  dismiss  your 
train  and  get  into  mine;  we  will  give  you 
comfortable  quarters." 

"General,"  I  said,  "did  you  ask  the 
Secretary  to  let  me  go  back  with  you  ? " 

"  I  did,"  he  said.  "  I  wanted  to  have 
you." 

So,  of  course,  I  went.  On  the  way  down 
he  told  me  that  he  had  been  appointed  to 
the  command  of  the  Military  Division  of 
the  Mississippi,  with  permission  to  leave 
Rosecrans  in  command  of  the  Department 
of  the  Cumberland,  or  to  assign  Thomas 
in  his  place.  He  had  done  the  latter,  he 
said,  and  had  telegraphed  Thomas  to  take 
charge  of  the  army  the  night  after  Stan- 
ton, at  Louisville,  had  received  my  de- 
spatch of  the  19th  saying  Rosecrans  would 
retreat  from  Chattanooga  unless  ordered 
to  remain.  Rosecrans  was  assigned  to  the 
Department  of  the  Missouri,  with  head- 
quarters at  St.  Louis. 

GRANT    REACHES   CHATTANOOGA. 

We  left  Nashville  on  the  morning  of 
the  2 1  st,  and  arrived  safe  in  Bridgeport  in 
the  evening.  The  next  morning,  October 
2  2d,  we  left  on  horseback  for  Chattanooga 
by  way  of  Jasper  and  Walden's  Ridge. 
The  roads  were  in  such  a  condition  that  it 
was  impossible  for  Grant,  who  was  on 
crutches  from  an  injury  to  his  leg  received 
by  the  fall  of  a  horse  in  New  Orleans 
some  time  before,  to  make  the  whole  dis- 
tance of  fifty-five  miles  in  one  day;  so  I 
pushed  on  ahead,  running  the  rebel  picket 
lines  and  reaching  Chattanooga  in  the 
evening  in  company  with  Colonel  Wilson, 
Grant's  inspector-general. 

The  next  morning  I  went  to  see  General 
Thomas;  it  was  not  an  official  visit,  but  a 
friendly  one — visits  which  I  very  often 
made  on  the  generals.  When  we  had 
shaken  hands  he  said: 

*'  Mr.  Dana,  you  have  got  me  this  time. 
"There  is  nothing  for  a  man  to  do  in  such 
0.  case  as  this  but  to  obey  orders." 


.  This  was  in  allusion  to  his  assignment 
to  the  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Cum- 
berland. The  change  in  command  was 
received  with  satisfaction  by  all  intelligent 
officers,  so  far  as  I  could  ascertain ;  though, 
of  course,  Rosecrans  had  many  friends 
who  were  unable  to  conceive  why  he  was 
relieved.  They  reported  that  he  was  to 
be  put  in  command  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac.  The  change  at  headquarters 
was  already  strikingly  perceptible,  order 
prevailing  instead  of  universal  chaos. 

On  the  evening  of  the  23d  Grant  ar- 
rived, as  I  stated  in  my  despatch  to  Mr. 
Stanton,  "wet,  dirty,  and  well."  The 
next  morning  he  was  out  with  the  leading 
officers  of  the  army,  reconnoitering.  He 
took  hold  of  the  situation  with  such  energy 
and  decision,  and  he  received  such  hearty 
codperation  from  the  army,  that  within 
a  week  we  again  held  Lookout  valley, 
controlled  the  Tennessee  from  Bridgeport 
to  Chattanooga,  and  were  receiving  sup- 
plies daily.  There  was  no  further  danger 
— which  had  been  the  only  one — of  the 
Army  of  the  Cumberland  being  starved 
out  of  Chattanooga.  The  Confederates 
themselves  at  once  recognized  this,  for  a 
copy  of  the  Atlanta  "  Appeal  "  of  Novem- 
ber 3d  which  reached  me  said,  that  if  we 
were  not  dislodged  from  Lookout  valley, 
our  possession  of  Chattanooga  was  secure 
for  the  winter. 

A    VISIT    TO    BURNSIDE. 

It  was  now  certain  that  we  could  hold 
Chattanooga;  but  until  Sherman,  who  had 
been  ordered  to  join  us  from  Vicksburg, 
reached  us,  we  could  do  nothing  against 
the  enemy  and  nothing  to  relieve  Burnside, 
who  had  been  ordered  to  unite  with  Rose- 
crans in  August,  but  had  never  gotten  be- 
yond Knoxville.  He  was  shut  up  there 
much  in  the  same  way  that  we  were  in 
Chattanooga,  and  it  was  certain  that  the 
Confederates  were  sending  forces  against 
him. 

Grant  was  so  anxious  to  know  the  real 
condition  of  Burnside  that  he  asked  me 
to  go  to  Knoxville  and  find  out.  So,  on 
November  9th,  I  started,  accompanied  by 
Colonel  Wilson  of  Grant's  staff.  The 
way  in  which  such  a  trip  as  this  of  Wilson 
and  mine  was  managed  in  those  days  is 
told  in  this  letter  to  my  little  daughter, 
written  just  before  we  left  Chattanooga  for 
Knoxville: 

I  expect  to  go  all  the  way  on  horseback,  and  it 
will  take  about  five  days.  About  seventy  horsemen 
will  go  along,  with  their  sabers  and  carbines,  to  keep 


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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


off  the  guerrillas.  Our  baggage  we  shall  have  carried 
on  pack-mules.  These  are  funny  little  rats  of  crea- 
tures, with  the  big  panniers  fastened  to  their  sides,  to 
carry  their  burdens  in.  I  will  put  my  bed  in  one 
pannier  and  my  carpet-bag  and  India  rubber  things 
in  the  other.  Colonel  Wilson,  who  is  to  go  with  me, 
will  have  another  mule  for  his  traps,  and  a  third  will 
carry  the  bread  and  meat  and  coffee  that  we  are  to 
live  on.  At  night  we  will  halt  in  some  nice  shady 
nook  where  there  is  a  spring,  build  a  big  roaring 
fire,  cook  our  supper,  spread  our  blankets  on  the 
ground,  and  sleep  with  our  feet  toward  the  fire, 
while  half  a  dozen  of  the  soldiers,  with  their  guns 
ready  loaded,  watch  all  about,  to  keep  the  rebels  at  a 
safe  distance.  Then  in  the  morning  we  will  first 
wake  up,  then  wash  our  faces,  get  our  breakfasts,  and 
march  on,  like  John  Brown's  soul,  toward  our  desti- 
nation. How  long  I  shall  stay  at  Knoxville  is  uncer- 
tain, but  I  hope  not  very  long — though  it  must  be 
very  charming  in  that  country  of  mountains  and 
rivers — and  then  I  shall  pray  for  orders  that  will 
take  me  home  again. 

We  were  not  obliged  to  camp  out  every 
night  on  this  trip.  One  evening,  just 
about  supper  time,  we  reached  a  large 
white  frame  house,  the  home  of  a  farmer. 
The  man,  we  found,  was  a  strong  Unionist, 
and  he  gave  us  a  hearty  invitation  to  oc- 
cupy his  premises.  Our  escort  took  pos- 
session of  the  barn  for  sleeping,  and  we 
cooked  our  supper  in  the  yard,  the  family 
lending  us  a  table  and  sending  us  out  fresh 
bread.  After  supper  Wilson  and  I  were 
invited  into  the  house,  where  the  farmer 
listened  eagerly  to  the  news  of  the  Union 
army.  There  were  two  or  three  young 
and  very  pretty  girls  in  the  farmer's  fam- 
ily, and  while  we  talked  they  "dipped" 
snuff,  a  peculiar  custom  that  I  had  never 
seen  but  once  or  twice  before. 

We  reached  Knoxville  on  the  13th,  and 
I  at  once  went  to  headquarters  to  talk 
over  the  situation  with  Burnside.  This 
was  the  first  time  I  had  met  that  general. 
He  was  rather  a  large  man  physically, 
about  six  feet  tall,  with  a  large  face  and 
a  small   head,   and    heavy  side-whiskers. 


He  was  an  energetic,  decided  man — frank, 
manly,  and  well-educated.  He  was  a  very 
showy  officer — not  that  he  made  any  show, 
he  was  naturally  that.  When  he  first 
talked  with  you,  you  would  think  he  had 
a  great  deal  more  intelligence  than  he 
really  had.  You  had  to  know  him  some 
time  before  you  took  his  measure. 

After  a  detailed  conversation  with  Burn- 
side,  I  concluded  that  there  was  no  rea- 
son to  believe  that  any  force  had  been 
sent  from  Lee's  army  to  attack  him  on  the 
northeast,  as  we  had  heard  in  Chattanooga, 
but  that  it  was  certain  that  Longstreet 
was  approaching  from  Chattanooga  with 
30,000  troops.  Burnside  said  that  he 
would  be  unable  long  to  resist  such  an 
attack,  and  that  if  Grant  did  not  succeed  in 
making  a  demonstration  which  would  com- 
pel Longstreet  to  return,  he  must  retreat. 

After  getting  as  clear  an  idea  of  Burn- 
side's  position  as  I  could,  I  left  about  six 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  14th.  We 
found  later  that  our  departure  from  Knox- 
ville had  been  none  too  soon ;  so  completely 
were  the  Confederates  taking  possession  of 
the  country  between  Knoxville  and  Chat- 
tanooga that  had  we  delayed  a  single  day 
we  could  only  have  got  out  through  Cum- 
berland Gap  or  that  of  Big  Creek.  We 
were  four  days  returning,  and  Mr.  Stan- 
ton became  very  uneasy,  as  I  learned  from 
this  despatch  received  soon  after  my  return : 


War  Department, 
Washington,  D.  C,  Nov.  19,  1863. 
Hon.  C.  A.  Dana, 
Chattanooga. 
Your  despatches  of  yesterday  are  received.     I  am 
rejoiced  that  you  have  got  safely  back.      My  anxiety 
about   you   for  several   days  had   been  very  great. 
Make  your  arrangements  to  remain  in  the  field  dur- 
ing the  winter.     Continue  your  reports  as  frequently 
as  possible,  always  noting  the  hour. 

Edwin  M.  Stanton. 


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"  For  fifteen  months  J  wiped  engines,  turned  the  table,    .    .    .    and  in/act  did  all  manner  of  the  dirtiest  and 
hardest  -work  that  was  to  be  done  about  a  railroad  roundhouse." 


[THE  GENERAL  MANAGER'S  STORY.] 

FIRING   A    LOCOMOTIVE. 

By  Herbert  E.   Hamblen  ("Fred.  B.  Williams"), 
Author  of  "On  Many  Seas." 

HARD     AND     EASY     ENGINEERS.— AN     APPEAL    TO  *  THE     GENERAL     MANAGER.— 
STOPPING   AN   EXPRESS   WITH   A   YARD    ENGINE.— A   RUNAWAY    LOCOMOTIVE. 

Illustrated  with  Drawings  from  Life  by  W.  D.  Stevens. 

ONE  day,  as  I  was  strolling  rather  list-  where  any  job  was  a  good  job,  I  stepped 

lessly  through  a  certain  roundhouse,  up  to  the  man   and  asked   if  he  was  the 

I  overheard  a  conversation    between  the  roundhouse  foreman.     He  said  he  was. 

foreman  and    caller  which    told    me   that  "  I'm  looking  for  a  job,  sir,"  said  I. 

there  was   a   fireman   wanted   in  a  hurry.  "  Can  you  fire  ?  " 

As  I  was  now  at  that  stage  in  the  game  "Yes,  sir." 

Copyright,  1897,  by  Herbert  E.  Hamblen. 


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362 


UNDER  A   SURLY  ENGINEER. 


"  Where  have  you  fired  ? " 

•'On  the road." 

"  All  right;  go  over  to  the  master  me- 
chanic's office  and  ask  for  Mr.  Seely,  tell 
him  Phelps  sent  you,  and,  if  he  hires  you, 
come  right  back  to  me.  I  want  you  to 
go  out  on  that  engine  right  away.  Hurry 
up,  now!  " 

My  business  with  the  head  of  the  me- 
chanical department  was  briefly  and  satis- 
factorily settled,  and  he  told  me  to  report 
to  Phelps  at  once. 

Phelps  told  me  to  "  git  right  on  to  227; 
there's  the  oil-room,"  pointing  to  a  low, 
dingy  structure.  "  Hurry  up,  now;  git  yer 
supplies,  an'  git  out  o'  here!  "  So  I  was 
hired. 

FIRST    RUN    AS   A    FIREMAN. 

As  I  stepped  up  on  the  tender  and 
opened  the  oil-box  to  get  the  cans,  the  most 
disagreeable-looking  face  that  I  ever  saw 
presented  itself  at  the  opposite  gangway, 
and  a  thin,  squeaky  voice  called  out: 

"Hey!  what  are  ye  up  to?  What  ye 
doin'  there?" 

I  asked  him  if  he  was  the  engineer. 

"  Who  d'ye  s'pose  I  be,  ye  blamed  fool  ? 
The  president  of  the  road  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I;  "  I  thought  you  was  the 
board  of  directors." 

"Oh,  you  did!  Well,  now,  you  git 
down  out  o'  there,  and  direct  yourself 
somewheres  else." 

"  Say,  Pop,"  said  I,  "  I  don't  know  nor 
care  who  you  are;  but  I'm  going  to  fire 
this  engine  to-night." 

He  shoved  his  oil-can  and  wrench  up 
into  the  tender,  and  away  he  went  across 
the  yard,  shouting,  "  Hey,  Phelps!  "  But 
Phelps  kept  out  of  his  way.  When  I  got 
back  from  the  oil-room,  he  was  in  the  cab 
waiting  for  me,  and  the  instant  I  set  the 
cans  upon  the  footboard  he  rang  the  bell 
and  gave  her  a  vicious  jerk  back;  but  I 
had  climbed  too  many  flying  freight  cars 
to  be  disturbed  by  that.  I  swung  myself 
lightly  aboard,  and  gave  him  a  black  look, 
which  didn't  mend  matters  any. 

Well,  at  last  we  got  our  train  and  got 
out  on  the  road.  We  didn't  have  a  very 
heavy  train,  and  I  was  satisfied  that  I  could 
keep  her  hot  without  any  trouble;  and  so 
I  could,  if  he  hadn't  worked  against  me  in 
every  way.  He  would  let  her  blow  all  her 
steam  and  water  away,  until  he  struck  a 
heavy  grade,  and  then  put  on  his  pump 
full  head,  and  drown  her,  running  the 
steam  down  so  that  we  stalled  and  had  to 
"  double  "  up  every  little  hill,  and  thereby 


"  laid  out "  the  "  fast  mail  "  fifteen  min- 
utes— an  unpardonable  sin. 

He  also  "dropped  her  down  a  notch  " 
for  me,  so  that  she  threw  a  constant  stream 
of  sky-rockets  out  of  her  stack,  and,  as  I 
told  the  master  mechanic  when  he  had  me 
on  the  carpet  the  next  day,  a  steam-shovel 
couldn't  have  kept  coal  in  her  that  night. 

Consequently  we  ran  out  of  fuel  before 
reaching  the  end  of  the  division,  and  had 
to  stop  at  the  freight  coaling-station  and 
coal  up — a  thing  that  had  never  happened 
to  that  train  before. 

That  was  a  tough  run  for  me,  and  I 
found  out  the  reason  for  it  afterwards. 
Old  Joe  had  powerful  influence  in  high 
quarters,  which  made  him,  to  a  certain 
extent,  independent  of  the  master  me- 
chanic, so  that  he  did  pretty  much  as  he 
pleased,  and,  being  of  a  low,  mean  dispo- 
sition, he  pleased  to  abuse  everybody  who 
came  in  his  way. 

The  first  time  she  "  dropped  her  bun- 
dle,"— which  occurred  less  than  half  way 
up  the  first  hill,  and  before  we  had  gone 
five  miles  on  our  way, — he  shut  her  off, 
slammed  the  reverse  lever  down  in  the 
corner  with  a  bang,  and,  folding  his  arms, 
leaned  back  in  his  seat,  and  ripped  out  a 
string  of  profanity,  every  word  of  which 
was  a  curse  at  me  personally. 

I,  being  a  stranger  on  the  road,  and  not 
having  the  fear  of  old  Joe's  displeasure 
properly  engrafted  on  my  mind,  waited 
until  he  got  through;  then,  stepping  over 
to  his  side,  I  grabbed  him  roughly  by  the 
shoulder,  and  twisting  him  half  round  on 
his  seat,  I  said: 

"  See  here,  I've  got  something  to  say  to 
you  now.  In  the  first  place,  it's  your  fault 
and  not  mine  that  we're  stalled  here,  be- 
cause you  don't  know  your  business  a  little 
bit;  and  now  one  thing  more,  if  you  open 
your  head  to  me  again  while  I  am  on  this 
engine,  I'll  split  you  wide  open  with  this 
shovel." 

He  didn't  say  another  word  to  me;  but, 
as  I  said  before,  the  trip  was  a  record- 
brearker.  We  got  to  the  end  of  the  divi- 
sion nine  hours  late,  had  four  hours  lay 
over,  and  returned,  doing  even  worse  than 
on  the  up  trip;  for,  as  part  of  this  run 
occurred  during  the  forenoon,  when  the 
inward-bound  passenger  trains  were  thick 
on  the  road,  he  managed  to  lay  out  three 
of  them. 

Before  we  started  on  the  return  trip, 
the  conductor  came  up  to  the  engine  while 
I  was  taking  water,  and  said: 

44  Say,  young  feller,  the  head  '  brakey  ' 
tells  me  that  you  set  old   Joe's  packin' 


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PUNISHED  FOR  ANOTHER  MAN'S  OFFENSE. 


363 


out  for  him  in 
mighty  good 
shape  last  night. 
Is  that  so?" 

"Oh,  I  don't 
know,"  said  I. 
"Why?" 

"Why?  Well, 
I'll  tell  you  why: 
because  if  you 
did,  you've  made 
a  friend  of  every 
man  on  the  di- 
vision except 
Joe  himself;  and 
as  you  couldn't 
make  a  friend  of 
him  anyway, 
that's  no  loss. 
But,  of  course,  I 
s'pose  you  know 
you 're  d  i  s- 
charged;  no  man 
could  lay  the 
whole  road  out 
the  way  you  did 
andgooutagain. 
But  don't  you  be 
in  any  hurry  to 
leave  town;  for 
maybe  some  of 
us  can  do  some- 
thing for  you." 

When    we  got 
back     we     both 
got    off    the  en- 
gine  and    found 
the   roundhouse   fo 
He  said  the  maste 
see  us  both  in  the 
went  and  reported  v,M.ow.  »^. 

"Well,  Mr.  Grinnell,"  said  the  master 
mechanic,  "  I  have  a  report  here  from  the 
division  superintendent  in  which  he  in- 
forms me  that  the  road  wasn't  big  enough 
for  the  227  last  trip.  What  was  the  matter 
with  her?" 

"  Nawthin',"  said  Grinnell. 
"  Nothing?      What    do    you    mean    by 
that?      Something    must    have   been    the 
nutter." 

"  Yes,  somethin'  was  the  matter,  an'  a 

^iglit   the  matter,    too.      Look    here,  Mr. 

Steely,  I  want  you  to  understand  that  the 

^^7  is  a  first-class  engine  in  every  respect, 

an*    that   I'm  a  first-class  engineer;    but 

p*tielps  has  got  a  notion  of  fishin'  up  all 

sorts  of  canallers,   an'   truck-drivers,   an' 

s^ndin'  'em  out  to  fire  for  me,  an'  I'm  jist 

^f->otit  sick  of  it,  V  don't  want  no  more." 

"*  Do  von  mean  to  tell  me,  then,  that  you 


"d'.E  D\Y,  A*    1    WAS  SI  KoU  INi,  KMHKK   U-.Il.LsMV    IH'.OLGH 
A    CHUAIN    Ki'l  MiHDl  >K       ..." 

laid  out  the  whole  road  just  because  the 
fireman  didn't  suit  you  ?  " 

41  No,  I  don't.  What  I  mean  to  say  is, 
that  I  didn't  hev  no  fireman;  only  a  cow- 
boy that  never  fired  an  engine  before,  an' 
threatened  to  split  me  wide  open  with  the 
scoop  jest  because  I  told  him  he'd  hev  to 
keep  her  hot,  or  we'd  never  git  there." 

"  Did  you  threaten  Mr.  Grinnell  ? "  said 
Mr.  Seely  to  me. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  Oho!  you  did,  hey  ?  Is  that  the  way 
firemen  talk  to  their  engineers  where  you 
came  from  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  I.  "  But  our  engineers 
were  men,  while  this  old  brute  is  a " 

"There!    there!    that  will  do.     I  don't 


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MANY  FRIENDS  BUT  NO  /OB. 


want  any  quarreling  in  my  office ;  you  can 
call  in  to-morrow  and  get  your  time." 

RELATIONS   BETWEEN     FIREMEN    AND   ENGI- 
NEERS. 

No  fireman  can  keep  an  engine  "  hot," 
except  with  the  strictest  codperation  on 
the  part  of  the  engineer.  In  order  that 
the  engine  shall  steam,  it  is  imperative 
that  the  engineer  shall  cut  his  steam  off  as 
short  as  possible  and  run  his  pump  accord- 
ing to  certain  rules  well  known  to  the  fra- 
ternity. In  other  words,  it  is  no  trouble 
at  all  to  the  engineer  to  "  knock  out  "  the 
best  fireman  that  ever  handled  a  shovel. 

Not  only  do  all  engineers  invariably  de- 
pend on  him  to  perform  many  of  the  duties 
properly  belonging  to  themselves,  but  he 
it  is  who  bends  his  back  and  hustles  to 
make  steam  to  get  the  train  in  on  time, 
frequently  with  miserable  fuel  and  an  en- 
gine that  ought  to  be  in  the  scrap-heap. 
When  time  is  lost  for  the  want  of  steam,  it 
is  on  the  fireman's  devoted  head  that  the 
wrath  of  the  engineer,  master  mechanic, 
and  superintendent  falls;  no  excuse  being 
accepted,  even  though  it  be  evident  to  any- 
body that  the  coal  is  seventy  per  cent,  slate 
and  the  valves  and  pistons  blow  like  sieves. 

Though  all  the  train-despatchers,  brass- 
bound  conductors,  and  engineers  do  their 
level  best,  no  train  can  make  time  or 
break  a  record  unless  the  grimy,  unheard- 
of,  and  unthought-about  fireman,  down 
there  in  his  black  hole,  knows  his  business 
and  does  it. 

I  went  to  the  roundhouse,  washed 
up,  and  then  went  to  get  something  to 
eat.  I  ran  across  the  conductor,  who  was 
bound  on  the  same  errand,  and  told  him 
what  had  occurred  in  the  master  mechanic's 
office,  and  also  gave  him  a  short  account 
of  myself.  He  was  quite  friendly,  and 
invited  me  to  sleep  in  his  caboose  during 
its  stay  at  that  end  of  the  division  and  get 
acquainted  with  the  boys.  "For,"  said 
he,  "  railroad  men  when  looking  for  a  job 
are  not  apt  to  be  very  rich,  and  there's  no 
use  of  paying  for  lodgings  while  the  yard 
is  half  full  of  cabooses." 

I  accepted  his  invitation  thankfully,  and 
found  that  I  was  quite  a  hero.  The  men 
took  delight  in  introducing  me  as  the  fel- 
low who  had  bearded  old  Joe  in  his  cab  and 
yet  survived  to  tell  the  tale. 

The  result  of  their  hospitality  was,  that 
three  days  passed  before  I  returned  to  the 
master  mechanic's  office  for  the  bill  of  my 
time.  On  leaving  the  office  I  ran  across 
Mr.  Phelps,  who  asked  me  to  accompany 


him  to  the  roundhouse.  He  took  me 
away  round  out  of  sight  and  hearing,  be- 
hind a  big  freight  engine,  and  asked  what 
was  the  trouble  between  Grinnell  and  me. 

I  told  him  all  that  happened  on  the  trip, 
but  before  I  got  through  he  said,  "  Never 
mind  all  that;  I  want  to  know  what  it  was 
that  you  said  to  him." 

When  I  told  him,  a  broad  smile  spread 
over  his  face.  "  I'd  have  been  willin'  to 
lose  a  month's  pay  to  have  seen  ole  Joe 
then,"  said  he.  "  Say,  young  feller,  I  can't 
give  you  a  job  firin'  just  yet;  Joe's  queered 
you  for  a  bit;  but  I'll  tell  youwhat  I'll  do. 
I'll  set  you  to  wipin',  an'  give  you  the 
first  chance.     What  do  you  say  ?  " 

I  didn't  care  to  wipe  engines,  as  that  is 
the  very  lowest  rung  in  the  ladder,  besides 
being  extremely  dirty  and  disagreeable 
work. 

He  assured  me,  however,  that  both  the 
master  mechanic  and  himself,  as  well  as 
nearly  all  the  engineers  on  the  road,  had 
begun  as  wipers.  He  said  that  was  the 
proper  way  for  a  man  to  learn  any  trade, 
to  begin  at  the  bottom;  and,  in  fine,  he 
said  so  much,  and  seemed  so  anxious  to 
have  me  take  the  job,  that  I  accepted,  and 
have  never  regretted  it  to  this  day. 

FIFTEEN    MONTHS   AS   A    WIPER. 

For  fifteen  months  I  wiped  engines, 
turned  the  table,  shoveled  ashes,  washed 
out  boilers  and  tanks,  helped  the  machin- 
ists to  lug  and  lift,  and  in  fact  did  all 
manner  of  the  dirtiest  and  hardest  work 
that  has  to  be  done  about  a  railroad 
roundhouse.  For  the  wipers  are  every- 
body's helpers.  Is  a  particularly  hard  job 
to  be  done,  get  one  of  the  wipers  to  do  it; 
if  a  sewer  gets  clogged,  send  a  wiper  in  to 
clear  it;  and  who  ever  heard  of  a  wiper 
complaining?  They  seem  to  glory  in  and 
thrive  on  dirt. 

During  those  fifteen  months  I  became, 
from  constant  association,  perfectly  famil- 
iar with  all  the  outward  and  visible  parts 
of  the  locomotive,  as  I  saw  them  taken 
to  pieces  by  the  mechanics;  and  as  I  was 
blessed  with  a  good-sized  bump  of  inquis- 
itiveness,  I  also  learned  enough  of  the  mys- 
terious properties  of  the  slide  valve  to  en- 
able me  to  take  part  in  the  deeply  erudite 
discussions  which  frequently  took  place 
among  the  firemen. 

The  wipers  are  severe  critics  of  the  en- 
gineers; they  know  whose  engine  is  always 
in  first-class  order,  nuts  and  bolts  all  in 
place  and  tight,  wedges  never  down,  and 
everything  where  it  ought  to  be. 

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SQUARING  ACCOUNTS  WITH  ENGINEER   GRINNELL.  365 

It  seemed  as  if  some  engineers  depended  What  was  my  surprise,  then,  as  the  time 
on  the  wipers  to  look  out  for  broken  spring  drew  near  for  her  to  leave  the  house,  to 
leaves  and  hangers,  cracked  equalizers  and  see  that  no  attempt  was  made  to  repair 
eccentric  straps,  and  nearly  everything  the  damage,  until  at  last  the  hostler  took 
else;  but  there  were  some  who  looked  her  out  across  the  table.  I  had  been  long 
their  engines  over  with  the  greatest  care,    enough  in  the  roundhouse  now  to  get  the 

hang  of  things  pretty  well, 
so  I  hunted  up  Mr.  Phelps 
and  told  him  what  I  had  dis- 
covered on  the  227. 

41  Is  that  so?"  said  he; 
"are  you  sure?" 

11  Yes,  sir,  "  said  I; 
41  there's  no  doubt  about  it." 

We  walked  rapidly  round 
the  house,  and  came  to  the 
hook  on  which  the  machinists 
hang  the  engineers'  work 
reports  after  finishing  the  job 
and  marking  them  O.  K. 

He  hunted  the  hook  over 
until  he  found  the  227's  re- 
port signed,  Grinnell, 
O.  K'd.,  and  signed  by  the 
man  who  had  done  the  work. 
There  were  several  petty 
jobs  reported,  but  not  a  word 
appeared  about  the  center 
casting. 

Mr.  Phelps's  eyes  sparkled 
with  pleasure,  as  he  saw  that 
old  Joe  had  tripped  at  last. 

From  where  we  stood  we 
could  see  Joe  oiling  around. 
No  time  was  to  be  lost,  for 
we  didn't  want  him  to  dis- 
cover it;  though,  even  if  he 
did,  it  would  be  too  late  now 
to  save  himself  from  censure 
— still  we  desired  to  catch 
him  as  foul  as  possible. 

Turning  to  me,  Mr.  Phelps 
said,  "I'll  get  the  old  man 
out,  an'  walk   him  past  the 

"MR.    GKINNELL,    YOUR     ENGINK    TRUCK    CENTER     CASTING     IS     BROKEN   ALL   TO  ^„^*«^       «„»    ,»^..      UA    «1«„«    K., 

pieces."  engine,  an   you  be  close  by, 

an'  just  as  we  get  to  Joe,  you 

and  one  of  these  was  old  Joe  Grinnell.    He  tell  him  his  center  castin's  broke." 

didn't  want  any  help  from  anybody,   and  "All  right,   sir,"   said  I,  and  away  he 

was  quite  free  in  saying  so,  too;  but  one  went  post-haste  after  the  master  mechanic, 

day  I  noticed  that  the  male  center  casting  while  I  sauntered  out  in  the  direction  of 

was  broken   in  such  a  way  that  but  one  the  227. 

bolt  held  it  at  all,  and  that  very  slightly.  Directly    I    saw    Mr.    Seely    and    Mr. 

I  supposed,  of  course,  that  he  had  reported  Phelps   coming  rapidly   in   our   direction 

it,  and  expected  every  minute  to  see  the  from  the  office,  I  got  within  about  ten  feet 

men  come  along  with  the  jacks  and  jack  of  old  Joe,  and  just  as  they  were  passing, 

her  up  to  put  in  a  new  one;  for  though  there  called  out  loud  enough  for  everybody  to 

is  a  king-pin  down  through  both  castings,  hear: 

still  no  man  would  ever  trust  to  that  alone,  "  Mr.  Grinnell,  your  engine  truck  cen- 

for  she  would  be  apt,  in  rounding  some  ter  casting  is  broken  all  to  pieces,  and  just 

curve,  to  shear  it  off,  and,  shooting  off  at  about  ready  to  fall  off." 

a  tangent,  leave  the  track.  Joe's  face  was  like  a  thunder-cloud  as 


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TAKING   ONE   TOO  MANY  CHANCES, 


he  told  me  to  mind  my  own  business,  if  I 
had  any. 

The  officials  had  heard  my  report,  and 
stopping  short,  Mr.  Seely  asked  Joe  what 
was  the  matter  with  his  center  casting. 

"  Nawthin',"  said  Joe;  "only  this 
wiper's  found  a  mare's  nest.  I  guess  I'm 
competent  to  look  after  my  own  engine 
without  any  help  from  the  wipers." 

Mr.  Seely,  however,  looked  under  the 
engine  himself,  and  seeing  that  I  was 
right,  ordered  her  back  into  the  house, 
and  a  spare  engine  got  ready  in  a  hurry, 
and  then  he  read  the  riot  act  ta  Mr. 
Joseph  H.  Grinnell  in  a  manner  that  the 
oldest  "plug-puller"  on  the  road  had 
never  heard  equalled. 

At  first  Joe  answered  back  pretty  stiffly, 
but  as  he  knew  he  was  dead  wrong,  he 
couldn't  say  much. 

The  engineers,  firemen,  wipers,  and,  in 
fact,  everybody  about  the  place,  came  run- 
ning from  all  directions  to  hear.  As  a 
grand  finale,  the  old  man,  after  calling 
him  everything  but  a  "first-class  engi- 
neer," sent  him  home  for  ten  days, 
charged  with  incompetency. 

FIRING    A    SWITCH    ENGINE. A    FATAL 

"  DOUBLE   CUT." 

The  next  morning  when  I  came  to  work, 
Mr.  Phelps  told  me  to  go  home  again  and 
return  at  six  p.m.  to  relieve  a  fireman  on 
one  of  the  switch  engines.  My  wiping 
days  were  now  over,  and  once  more  1 
found  myself  on  the  left  side  of  a  locomo- 
tive. On  the  second  day,  the  engineer 
asked  me  if  I  thought  I  could  handle  her. 
I  said  I  guessed  so;  and  stepping  out  from 
alongside  the  boiler,  he  said,  "All  right, 
then;  get  hold  o'  this  bat,  an'  let's  see  ye 
shape  yerself." 

I  was  somewhat  nervous  at  first.  It 
startled  me  to  feel  her  go  the  instant  that 
I  touched  the  throttle,  and  though  I  knew 
perfectly  how  she  ought  to  be  handled,  yet 
I  found  it  confusing  when  I  came  to  do  it 
myself.  The  throttle,  reverse  lever,  and 
brake  seemed  to  be  in  each  other's  way, 
and  I  couldn't  find  them  with  my  hands 
without  looking  for  them — an  act  that  is 
rankly  unprofessional.  Then  again,  I 
would  catch  myself  just  in  the  act  of 
giving  her  steam  when  I  should  have  re- 
versed her  first,  calling  forth  profane  and 
jeering  remarks  from  the  engineer,  which 
were  extremely  mortifying.  The  engineer 
stayed  with  me  about  an  hour,  watching 
me  sharply,  and  giving  me  lots  of  advice. 
I  soon  gained  confidence,   and  as  I  kept 


a  sharp  lookout  for  signals,  and  obeyed 
them  promptly,  the  engineer — satisfied 
that  I  could  do  the  work — stepped  off 
and  went  into  the  yard-master's  office  to 
"chin." 

He  had  not  been  off  the  engine  ten 
minutes  when  the  conductor  undertook 
to  make  a  "double  cut,"  that  is,  to  cut 
off  two  sections  of  the  moving  train  and 
send  each  into  its  proper  switch  without 
stopping.  When  properly  done,  it  is  a 
neat  manoeuver,  and  a  great  time-saver. 
There  should  be  a  man  at  each  switch, 
one  to  pull  the  pin,  and  one  to  watch 
the  performance  and  give  signals  to  the 
engineer.  The  pin  may  be  pulled  on  the 
first  section  before  commencing  to  back; 
then  the  pin-puller  stands  by  to  make  the 
second  cut.  The  engine  starts  back  until 
there  is  way  enough  on  the  first  cut  to  carry 
it  into  its  switch;  then  at  a  signal  the 
engineer  shuts  off,  and  the  dead  engine, 
acting  as  a  drag,  holds  back  the  main  part 
of  the  train,  while  the  cut-off  cars  roll  on 
ahead  to  their  switch,  which  the  man  who 
is  stationed  there  opens,  allowing  them  to 
run  in,  and  closes  it  after  them.  The  en- 
gineer, on  signal,  now  gives  her  another 
jerk  back,  the  pin-puller  pulls  the  pin,  and 
when  there  is  way  enough  on  the  second 
cut  to  carry  it  to  its  destination,  the  same 
performance  is  gone  through  with  again, 
this  time  the  whole  of  the  remaining  train 
and  engine  passing  over  the  closed  switch 
to  its  destination  further  up  the  yard. 

With  men  enough — provided  there  is  no 
grade  to  stop  the  cars  from  rolling — cars 
could  be  sent  into  all  the  switches  along 
the  line,  without  the  engine  stopping  at  all ; 
but  in  this  case  the  conductor  only  had  one 
man, and  when  he  told  him  what  he  intended 
to  do,  the  "  brakey  "  remonstrated,  saying, 
"  Ye'll  have  them  all  over  the  carpet." 

The  conductor,  however,  told  him  to 
mind  his  own  business,  and  ordered  him 
to  open  the  first  switch,  and  then  run  to 
the  next,  saying  that  he  would  close  it 
himself  after  pulling  the  pin.  But  when 
he  ran  in  a  hurry  to  close  it,  he  stumbled 
over  the  end  of  a  tie,  so  that  before  he 
got  it  closed,  the  forward  truck  of  the 
leading  car  had  entered  the  siding,  and 
the  switch  being  closed,  the  cars  went  off 
the  track.  Seeing  them  going  in  all  direc- 
tions, he  desired  to  set  a  brake  to  hold 
them,  when,  in  jumping  up  between  two 
flat  cars,  one  corner  rose  above  the  other, 
and  shearing  across  it  clipped  him  in  two, 
as  a  lady  snips  a  thread  with  her  scissors. 

The  engineer  was  discharged  for  allow- 
ing me  to  handle  the  engine,  and  for  many 


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ENGINEERS   WHO  MAKE  HARD    WORK  FOR  FIREMEN. 


367 


a  night  after  that  I  saw  the  poor  con- 
ductor in  my  dreams.  He  had  been  look- 
ing straight  in  my  eyes,  when  his  light 
went  out. 


THE    DIFFERENCES   IN    ENGINEERS. 

I  fired  nearly  four  years;  and  though 
firing  is  the  hardest  kind  of  work,  I  look 
back    to    those 
four     years    as 
the  happiest  of 
my  life. 

I  never  came 
across  quite 
such  another 
crank  as  old 
Joe  Grinnell, 
for,  as  a  rule, 
the  engineers 
were  fine  fel- 
lows. Every 
man  jack  of 
them,  having 
served  his  ap- 
prenticeship at 
the  scoop- 
shovel,  realized 
the  drawbacks 
and  discomforts 
of  the  fireman's 
position,  and 
tried  to  make  it 
as  endurable  as 
possible. 

Some,  while 
meaning  well, 
had  failed  dur-  . 
ing  their  ap- 
prenticeship to 
learn  from  their 
engineers     how 

to  run  and  feed  X 

(pump)  the  ma- 
chine to  the  best 
advantage,  so 
they  made  it  hard  work  for  the  firemen  to 
keep  steam.  Those  we  called  * 4  pounders, ' ' 
and  as  a  rule  they  were  the  very  ones  who 
would  take  no  hints  from  their  firemen, 
but  instantly  became  dignified  and  talked 
loftily  about  how  /pump  and  run  my  en- 
gine. 

Shortly  after  I  was  appointed,  I  was 
sent  to  fire  for  old  Pop  Fickett.  He  was 
a  jolly  old  soul,  easy-going  as  an  old  shoe, 
and  would  often  on  a  cold  night  get  down 
and  fire  himself  for  a  dozen  or  twenty 
sniles  to  get  warm,  while  I  sat  on  his  seat 
^nd  played  engineer,  blowing  for  crossings 
And  watching  the  water. 


"AND   I    ASKED, 


VOICB     WHICH 


LOl'S,    IF   WB  COULD   SI'KAK   To   HIM. 


Old  Pop  was  a  hard  man  to  fire  for,  be- 
cause he  was  a  pounder;  but  I  hadn't  been 
long  enough  at  the  business  to  know  that, 
so  I  shoveled  away  for  dear  life  and  was 
ignorant  and  happy. 

One  trip  Pop  reported  sick,  and  an  ex- 
tra engineer  took  her  out.  As  a  rule, 
firemen  hate  to  see  an  extra  man  get  on 
the  engine,  as  he  has  different  ways  from 

the  man  you  are 
used  to,  and 
railroad  men  of 
all  degrees  get 
set  in  their  ways 
and  don't  like 
to  have  them 
disturbed. 

This  extra 
man,  however, 
was  a  genuine 
and  pleasant 
surprise  to  me. 
With  old  Pop 
at  the  throttle 
I  always  had 
to  bend  my 
back  as  soon  as 
he  pulled  her 
out  and  keep 
the  shovel  and 
the  firebox  door 
on  the  swing  as 
regular  as  the 
pendulum  of  a 
clock. 

No  need  to 
hook  the  fire; 
for,  as  Pop  said, 
he'd  keep  it 
from  freezing 
up  on  me,  and 
so  he  did,  too; 
'  for   I    wouldn't 

have  a  chance 
to  stop  shovel- 
ing until  he  shut 
her  off.  No  need  to  worry  myself  by 
looking  at  the  steam  gauge;  for,  as  Pop 
said  again,  he  could  take  care  of  all  the 
steam  I  could  make. 

There  were  two  coaling  stations  on  the 
division,  each  about  twenty  miles  from 
either  terminus,  for  the  convenience  of 
engines  that  needed  more  coal  to  take  them 
in.  We  never  passed  them, — indeed,  we 
sometimes  had  trouble  to  reach  them, — 
although  Pop  had  sideboards  put  on  the 
tender,  saying  he  liked  to  have  plenty  of 
coal;  and  when  other  engineers  bragged 
about  how  many  water-plugs  they  passed 
and  how  many  cars  they  hauled  without 


\V.\s    si  IOIITLY  TRKMU. 


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GIVING  A    VETERAN  ENGINEER  A   LESSON. 


I  did  so,  won- 
dering what  he 
wanted  of  it. 

He  threw  it  on 
the  footboard  in 
front  of  him, 
and  told  me  if  I 
didn't  sit  down 
and  rest  myself 
until  we  got  to 
the  water-plug, 
he  would  report 
me  for  wasting 
the  company's 
fuel. 

That  trip  was 
a  revelation  to 
.me.  We  not 
e  water-plugs  and 
t  made  the  run  in 
\  than  usual,  arriv- 
a  tank  of  coal  left, 
ur  regular  train  of 


"ILL    MAKE    NO    REPORTS    TO    ANYBODY  J     BUT    ILL    LICK     Y( 
EVERY   DAY   FOR  A   YEAR,   AS   BIG  AS  YOU   ARE." 

taking  coal,  Pop  would  remark  sagely  that 
he  "alius  liked  to  have  coal  an*  water 
enough," — and  he  did  too. 

Well,  when  the  extra  man  started  I  be- 
gan as  usual  to  "  ladle  in  the  lampblack  " 
until  we  were  about  five  miles  out,  when 
he  called  me  up  to  him  and  asked  me  if 
there  was  a  hole  through  the  front  end  of 
the  fire-box. 

"No,"  said  I.     "Why?" 

"  What  is  the  trouble,  then  ?  Is  there 
somebody  buried  back  there,  an'  you're 
trying  to  dig  him  out  ?  " 

I  stared  at  him,  wondering  what  he  was 
talking  about.  Seeing  that  I  didn't  un- 
derstand, he  said:  "For  heaven's  sake, 
man,  get  up  there  on  your  seat  an'  sit 
down!  I  never  saw  anybody  shovel  coal 
like  you  do;  you've  got  enough  in  there 
to  run  to  the  next  water-plug  now.  I  can't 
put  any  more  water  into  her  till  we  get 
there;  so  crack  your  door  an'  let's  have  a 
smoke." 

I  did  as  he  told  me  to;  and  yet,  though 
I  saw  by  the  gauge  that  we  had,  as  the 
boys  say,  "a  hundred  an'  enough,"  I  was 
worried;  and,  at  last,  when  I  could  stand 
it  no  longer,  fearing  that  my  fire  would  go 
entirely  out,  I  stepped  down  and  picked 
up  my  scoop  again. 

"Say,"  said  he,  "hand  me  that  scoop 
a  minute." 


ted  him  how  it  was 

:  to  his  side  of  the 

y       caD  ana  snowea   me  a   notch   in   the 

quadrant  that   was   worn  smooth  and 

bright. 

"That,"  said  he,  "is  the  notch  Pop 
runs  her  in."  Then  he  showed  me  where 
he  ran  her,  and  gave  me  the  most  lucid 
explanation  of  early  cutting  off  and  run- 
ning expansively,  and  of  its  effect  on  the 
coal-pile  and  water-tank,  that  I  had  ever 
heard. 

Pop  was  laid  up  a  week  with  rheuma- 
tism, and  during  that  week  I  gained  sev- 
eral pounds  in  weight.  I  had  such  an  easy 
time  of  it  that,  although  I  was  very  fond 
of  the  old  man,  I  dreaded  to  see  him  come 
back,  and  said  as  much  to  the  engineer. 

"  Why  don't  you  tell  him  how  to  run 
her  ?  "  said  he.  "  Pop's  a  good  old  feller. 
He  won't  get  mad;  and  even  if  he  does, 
you'd  be  a  blamed  fool  to  keep  heaving 
coal  in  there  for  him  to  throw  out  the 
stack.     I  wouldn't  do  it,  an'  don't  you." 

Well,  at  last  the  day  came  when  the  old 
man  returned  to  work.  He  looked  poorly, 
and  I  could  hardly  find  it  in  my  heart  to 
speak  to  him  on  a  subject  which  I  knew  to 
be  a  delicate  one,  for  he  was  a  very  old 
engineer,  and  had  been  running  just  that 
way  probably  long  before  I  ever  thought 
of  railroading. 

Still,  I  had  lots  of  sympathy  for  my 
own  back.  So  at  last  I  broached  the  sub- 
ject, before  we  started — I  would  have  no 
chance  afterward — and  made  up  my  mind 
to  fight  it  out  with  him  if  necessary. 


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URGING   THE  RIGHTS  OF   THE  FIREMEN. 


369 


I  spoke  rather  diffidently,  but  told  him 
the  whole  story,  to  which  he  listened  very 
patiently,  and  when  I  got  through,  he 
said: 

"  My  boy,  I  don't  want  to  break  your 
back.  I  know  there's  something  in  what 
you  say,  for  I've  had  firemen  kick  before, 
but  none  of  them  in  such  a  decent  way  as 
you  have;  now  I'll  tell  you  something  that 
no  man  on  this  road  knows  but  me.  I  am 
a  machinist  by  trade,  and  never  fired  but 
six  months  in  my  life.  When  this  road 
opened,  I  had  a  little  influence  and  got  a 
job;  all  I  asked  for  was  a  job,  but  as  I 
had  a  letter  from  a  big  man  and  applied  to 
the  mechanical  department,  I  was  pre- 
sumed to  be  an  engineer  and  given  an  en- 
gine at  once.  Of  course,  I  wasn't  fool 
enough  to  decline,  and  I've  been  running 
here  ever  since.  That's  twenty  years  ago, 
and  you're  the  first  fireman  I  ever  had  that 
I  would  trust  enough  to  tell  that  to.  Now, 
show  me  how  Laws  ran  her,  and,  by  gum, 
I'll  do  the  same;  then  we'll  see  if  we  can't 
run  by  water-plugs  and  coal  stations  as 
well  as  some  others." 

I  showed  him,  and  away  we  went.  At 
first  he  was  afraid  she  wouldn't  make  time 
cut  back  so  fine,  but  when  he  saw  how  she 
was  going  past  the  stations,  he  was  as 
pleased  as  a  child  with  a  new  toy.  When 
we  neared  the  first  water-plug,  he  sent  me 
back  to  measure  the  water.  We  had  nearly 
half  a  tank,  and  he  wanted  to  stop;  but  I 
assured  him  that  it  was  perfectly  safe  to 
go  on,  and  so  it  proved. 

He  was  as  pleased  as  Punch  when  we 
wheeled  into  the  end  of  the  division  after 
the  fastest  trip  he  had  ever  made  in  all 
those  twenty  years;  and  he  never  relapsed 
into  his  old  style  of  running,  and  for  the 
remainder  of  my  time  with  him  no  fireman 
on  the  road  had  an  easier  time  of  it 
than  I. 

A    CONTEST    WITH    A    BRUTAL    SUPERIOR. 

About  this  time,  an  engineer  who  had 
left  the  road  a  couple  of  years  before  re- 
turned, and  was  appointed  traveling  en- 
gineer by  the  master  mechanic.  We  soon 
found  that  he  had  full  authority  to  hire 
engineers  to  fill  vacancies,  and  that  he  im- 
proved his  opportunities.  A  new  branch 
connecting  with  an  important  mining  and 
manufacturing  locality  was  opened,  calling 
for  half  a  dozen  more  engineers.  The 
firemen  had  been  longing  for  the  opening, 
and  figuring  for  the  past  three  years  on 
who  would  be  promoted;  but  when  the 
time  drew  near,  it  was  observed  that  sev- 


eral new  engineers  were  riding  on  the  en- 
gines, learning  the  road.  The  firemen 
became  alarmed  at  once,  and  discussed  the 
matter  quite  freely. 

I  became  intensely  interested  in  the 
controversy;  and  though  I  could  not  ex- 
pect to  be  promoted  at  this  time,  yet  I  saw 
that  if  the  engineers  were  all  to  be  hired, 
our  chances  of  ever  running  on  that  road 
were  slim  indeed.  As  no  one  seemed  to 
have  any  idea  of  demanding  better  treat- 
ment from  the  company,  or  to  consider 
that  we  had  any  thing  that  could  be  termed 
rights  in  the  matter,  I  made  it  my  business 
to  preach  a  new  doctrine  to  my  compan- 
ions. I  finally  got  three  of  the  oldest 
men,  three  who  had  felt  sure  of  promotion, 
to  go  with  me  as  a  committee  to  the  trav- 
eling engineer  and  ask  that  the  firemen's 
rights  to  promotion  be  recognized,  pro- 
vided I  would  agree  to  do  all  the  talking. 

So  one  fine  day  I  marshaled  my  com- 
mittee in  the  anteroom  of  the  master  me- 
chanic's office,  resolved  to  beard  the  lion 
in  his  den.  We  were  all  trembling  in  our 
shoes  at  the  audacity  of  our  action,  and 
wished  that  we  hadn't  been  so  valiant; 
however,  it  was  too  late  now  to  turn  back, 
as  all  the  firemen  knew  what  we  were 
about,  and  a  number  were  waiting  in  the 
roundhouse  to  receive  our  report.  So  in 
we  went,  our  caps  in  our  hands,  and  asked 
to  see  Mr.  Hussey.  A  clerk  stepped  into 
his  office,  and  returning  directly,  bade  us 
enter. 

We  found  the  gentleman  sitting  with  his 
feet  cocked  up  on  his  desk,  smoking;  we 
walked  round  so  as  to  face  him,  and  I 
asked,  in  a  voice  which  I  fear  was  slightly 
tremulous,  if  we  could  speak  to  him.  He 
gave  me  a  quick,  disagreeable  glance  from 
his  cold,  gray  eye,  and  answered  in  a  most 
discouraging  manner,  "  Ya — as,  go  on." 

After  once  having  broken  the  ice,  I 
found  but  little  difficulty  in  talking.  I 
stated  the  case  to  him,  as  I  had  done  to 
the  boys  dozens  of  times  already. 

When  I  got  through  he  gave  me  an- 
other one  of  those  wicked  leers,  and  said, 
"  Are  you  done  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  I. 

"Got  no  instructions  for  the  master 
mechanic  or  superintendent  ?  " 

"  No,  sir;  we've  got  no  instructions  for 
anybody;  we  are  simply  asking  for  what 
we  think  we  are  entitled  to." 

"Oho!  you're  mighty  mild  all  of  a 
sudden!  Well,  now  look  here,  my  young 
agitator,  I've  had  my  eye  on  you  for  some 
time,  and  I've  heard  a  good  deal  about 
you,  too;  going  round  among  the  firemen, 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


37°       THE  HIGHER    THE  MAN   THE  BETTER    THE  MANNER. 


talking  and  criticizing  my  business.  You 
want  what  you're  entitled  to,  hey  ?  Well, 
you  shall  have  it,  and  that's  a  bill  of  your 
time.  Does  any  of  the  rest  of  you  want 
what  he's  entitled  to  ?  " 

Glancing  hastily  at  the  boys,  I  saw 
they  were  badly  rattled; 
so,  thinking  it  useless  to 
sacrifice  any  more  of 
them,  I  told  him  that  I 
was  the  only  one  to 
blame  for  the  action  we 
had  taken,  and  got  them 
out  of  the  office  as  quickly 
as  I  could. 

We  were  no  sooner  out- 
side than  two  of  my  gal- 
lant supporters  sneaked 
off  to  the  roundhouse, 
thankful  to  have  escaped 
with  their  lives;  but  one, 
Frank  Manly,  a  smart, 
bright  young  fellow  of 
about  twenty -one, 
slightly  red-headed,  tall, 
and  straight  as  an  arrow, 
Manly  by  name  and 
manly  by  nature,  brought 
his  right  fist  down  in  his 
left  palm  with  a  bang, 
and  swore  that  it  was  a 
shame.  "I'll  tell  you 
what  we'll  do,"  said  he; 
44  it  wouldn't  do  any  good 
to  go  to  the  master  me- 
chanic, because  he'd  up- 
hold Hussey;  and  the 
super's  no  better.  I 
won't  fire  on  the  blamed 
road  any  more,  as  long 
as  that's  to  be  the  rule; 
so  let's  you  and  me  go 
straight  to  the  general 
manager.  They  say  he's 
a  mighty  fine  old  fellow; 
been  all  through  the  mill  himself,  an'  be- 
lieves in  giving  the  boys  a  fair  show. 
We've  got  nothing  to  lose,  anyway,  so  he 
•can't  hurt  us.     What  do  you  say  ?  " 


A    SURPRISING    INTERVIEW    WITH    THE    GEN- 
ERAL   MANAGER. 

I  told  him  I  was  willing;  so  the  next 
day  we  marched  into  the  general  manager's 
office,  as  large  as  life.  His  private  sec- 
retary, a  fussy  little  fellow,  told  us  to  be 
•seated,  that  the  general  manager  was  very 
busy,  but  would  see  us  directly. 

In  about  half  an  hour  a  man  came  out, 


and  we  were  told  to  step  inside.  Neither 
of  us  had  ever  seen  the  general  manager 
before,  so  we  were  pleasantly  surprised  to 
find  that  august  person  a  very  mild-man- 
nered and  affable  gentleman.  He  wel- 
comed us  cordially,  asked  us  to  be  seated, 


THE   CROWD   STOOD    SILENT   AND    BREATHLESS   AS   SHE    PASSED." 


and  read  from  a  sjip  of  paper,  "  Two  of 
the  firemen." 

"  It  should  be  ex-firemen,  sir,"  said  I; 
"  we  are  no  longer  employed  on  your 
road." 

He  raised  his  eyebrows  slightly  and 
said:  "  In  that  case  I  hardly  see  how  you 
can  have  any  business  with  me.  It  was 
on  the  supposition  that,  you  were  em- 
ployees that  I  granted  you  this  audience." 

I  asked  if  he  would  allow  us  to  state 
our  case. 

"Certainly,"  said  he.  "Proceed;  but 
be  as  brief  as  you  can,  for  my  time  is  val- 
uable." 

I  told  him  the  whole  story,  how  we  had 


Digitized  by 


Google 


A    VICTORY  FOR   THE  FIREMEN. 


371 


been  disappointed  in  our  promotion,  how 
we  had  respectfully  protested  to  Mr.  Hus- 
sey,  and  I,  as  spokesman,  had  been  peremp- 
torily discharged.  He  seemed  interested, 
and  heard  me  through  without  interrup- 
tion, and  when  I  had  finished,  he  asked, 
"  Who  is  Mr.  Hussey  ?  "     I  told  him. 

"  And  he  discharged  you  both  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Frank.  "  I  wasn't  dis- 
charged; but  as  I  don't  intend  to  fire  all 
my  life,  I  have  quit." 

"  And  quite  right,  too.  If  I  knew  that 
I  had  a  man  on  my  road  that  hadn't  am- 
bition enough  to  aspire  to  the  highest 
position  on  it,  I'd  discharge  him  myself. 
Now,  you  boys  understand  that  you  have 
made  a  grave  charge  to  me  against  your 
superior  officer.  If  I  bring  him  here,  will 
you  repeat  the  charge  in  his  presence  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  we  will." 

"  Have  you  any  witnesses  ? " 

"We  have  the  other  two  firemen  who 
were  on  the  committee;  but  perhaps  they 
wouldn't  care  to  testify." 

"  What  are  their  rames  ?  " 

We  told  him  their  names,  and  he  took 
them  down.  He  then  told  us  to  be  in  his 
office  again  at  ten  o'clock  next  morning. 
Frank  asked  if  we  should  notify  our  wit- 
nesses to  appear.  "  They  will  be  notified," 
said  he,  "and  will  be  here,  or  I  am  very 
much  mistaken."  I  remarked  that  one  of 
them  was  to  go  out  at  four  p.m.  "  Ah!  " 
said  he,  "that's  well  thought  of."  He 
then  tWd  his  clerk  to  tell  the  master  me- 
chanic's office  to  relieve  fireman  Voorhees 
until  further  orders ;  and  dismissed  us,  with  a 
warning  to  talk  to  no  one  about  the  matter. 

The  next  day  we  arrived  at  the  office 
on  time,  where  we  found  Mr.  Hussey,  who 
paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  us  and 
our  two  committeemen,  who  were  in  what 
Frank  called  a  "blue  funk,"  wondering 
what  was  to  be  done  to  them.  The  gen- 
eral manager  arrived  shortly  after  us, 
bowed  comprehensively  to  the  crowd, 
said,  "  Good  morning,  gentlemen;  step  in- 
side, please,"  and  when  we  were  all  in, 
asked  us  to  be  seated. 

"Nqw,"  said  he,  "which  is  Mr.  Hus- 
sey?" 

"lam  Mr.  Hussey,"  said  that  gentle- 
man, disguising  as  much  as  possible  his 
naturally  surly  manner,  out  of  deference 
to  his  superior  officer. 

"  I  have  received  a  very  grave  charge, 
Mr.  Hussey,  from  one,  or  perhaps  I  should 
say  two,  of  our  firemen,  one  of  whom 
you  have  discharged,  as  I  understand,  for 
having  preferred  a  request  on  behalf  of 
himself  and  others.     Is  that  correct  ?  " 


"I  discharged  that  feller,"  said  Hus- 
sey, indicating  me  by  a  jerk  of  his  head, 
"  because  he's  an  agitator:  he's  been  or- 
ganizin'  the  firemen,  an'  tryin'  ter  make 
trouble  on  the  road.  I  should  have  dis- 
charged him  at  the  first  chance,  anyway; 
so,  when  he  came  into  my  office  an'  tried 
to  dictate  to  me  who  I  should  hire  an' 
who  I  should  promote,  I  let  'im  go.  I 
don't  want  no  firemen,  nor  engineers 
neither,  dictatin'  to  me,  an'  I  won't  have 
it!" 

"Be  seated  a  moment,  please,"  said 
the  general  manager. 

He  then  called  the  members  of  the  com- 
mittee up,  one  after  another,  and,  after 
warning  them  to  be  careful  to  state  the 
exact  facts,  drew  from  them  the  conversa- 
tion that  had  passed  between  Hussey  and 
me  in  the  office.  He  asked  Hussey  if  it 
was  correct,  and  he  admitted  that  it  was. 
He  then  said  that  it  was  his  wish  that  all 
employees  on  the  road  should  be  consid- 
ered as  standing  in  the  line  of  promotion 
in  their  several  departments;  that  he  had 
always  supposed  such  to  be  the  case,  and 
was  surprised  to  find  it  otherwise,  as  he 
had  certainly  made  his  views  known  on 
that  subject.  He  said  that  promotions 
should  be  governed  by  seniority  of  service, 
unless  the  senior  employee  could  be  shown 
to  be  unfit  for  the  position;  favoritism  he 
would  not  tolerate  under  any  disguise 
whatsoever.  He  gave  Mr.  Hussey  a  very 
plain  lecture  on  the  autocratic  position 
which  he  had  assumed  toward  us,  saying 
that  he  desired  all  employees  to  discuss 
among  themselves  matters  pertaining  to 
their  own  interests,  and  to  suggest  such 
changes  as  they  thought  would  be  bene- 
ficial to  themselves,  guaranteeing  that  all 
such  questions  should  receive  his  personal 
attention,  and  any  concessions  that  could 
be  made  without  injury  to  the  interests  of 
the  road  he  would  gladly  make.  He  told 
us  that  any  employee  could  always  obtain 
an  audience  with  him,  and  said  that  the 
right  of  appeal  from  the  decisions  of  in- 
ferior officers  should  be  the  rule  while  he 
remained  in  the  company's  employ. 

He  then  told  Frank  and  me  to  return  to 
work,  and  was  about  to  dismiss  us,  when 
Hussey,  who  had  been  getting  red  in  the 
face  and  showing  signs  of  increasing  un- 
easiness, rose,  and  said  in  a  somewhat  in- 
solent tone: 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Mr.  General 
Manager,  that  that  feller's  reinstated  over 
my  head  ?" 

"  You  can  call  it  that,  if  you  choose." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  one  thing:  I  don't 

ne 


Digitized  by  VjOOQI 


372 


A   BOUT   WITH   THE  MASTER  MECHANIC. 


care  if  you're  general  manager,  or  what 
you  are,  you  can't  run  no  railroad  that 
way " 

"  There!  there!"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man, knocking  on  his  desk  with  a  pencil, 
"  that  will  do.  I  think  I  understand  you, 
and  let  me  give  you  a  little  piece  of  ad- 
vice,— when  talking  to  a  gentleman,  be  as 
gentlemanly  as  you  can,  and  when  address- 
ing your  superior  officer,  try  and  remem- 
ber that  a  certain  modicum  of  respect  is 
due  to  his  position " 

"  Gentleman  be  blowed!  "  roared  Hus- 
sey.  "What  are  ye  ?  Ye're  nothin'  but 
an  old  ex-freight  brakeman,  an*  ye* re  so 
old  that  whatever  little  sense  ye  might 
have  had  once  is  all  gone  now.  To  blazes 
with  you  an'  yer  ole  streak  of  rust!  I 
wouldn't  work  on  a  road  that's  got  such 
an  old-woman  fool  for  a  general  manager, 
if  it  was  the  only  road  on  earth!  "  And 
he  started  for  the  door  just  as  it  was 
opened  by  a  burly  attendant,  who  quietly, 
but  firmly,  and  with  an  air  of  dexterity 
which  proved  familiarity  with  the  method, 
took  Mr.  Hussey  by  the  wrist  and  elbow 
and  escorted  him,  swearing  uproariously, 
to  the  outer  world. 

We  bade  the  general  manager  good 
day,  thanking  him  for  his  kindness,  and 
withdrew.  Frank  and  I  kept  a  little  in 
advance  of  the  others  on  our  return, 
though  they  tried  to  fraternize;  but  we 
looked  upon  them  coldly,  and  so  discour- 
aged their  advances. 

FORCING    PROMOTION. 

The  magnitude  of  our  success  dazed 
and  almost  frightened  us.  Our  visit  to 
the  general  manager  had  been  undertaken 
merely  as  a  forlorn  hope,  and  with  hardly 
any  expectation  of  being  granted  even  an 
interview.  We  were  lionized  by  the  fire- 
men, and  looked  upon  with  sincere  dislike 
by  the  engineers ;  as  it  was  for  their  inter- 
est to  have  all  railroads  hire  engineers. 
Even  old  Pop  told  me,  with  the  utmost 
gravity,  that  I  might  as  well  quit,  and  go 
along  with  Hussey ;  for  he  said  the  master 
mechanic  would  now  be  down  on  me  for 
having  been  instrumental  in  getting  Hus- 
sey discharged  and  interfering  with  the 
management  of  his  department.  He  pre- 
dicted that  my  stay  on  the  road  would  be 
very  limited,  but  I  remembered  what  the 
general  manager  had  said  to  us  about  the 
right  of  appeal,  and  made  up  my  mind 
that  if  the  master  mechanic  did  me  an  in- 
justice, I  would  fight  it  out  as  I  had  in  the 
last  instance. 


I  had  occasion  several  times  to  remem- 
ber Pop's  words;  for  though  I  was  not 
discharged,  a  system  of  petty  annoyances 
was  started  against  me  in  the  effort  to  tire 
me  out,  so  that  I  would  leave  of  my  own 
accord.  It  became  a  frequent  occurrence 
now  for  me  to  be  called  to  the  office,  to 
receive  reprimands  and  warnings  for  all 
sorts  of  unimportant  matters;  and  as  1 
knew  the  method  pursued  on  railroads,  I 
understood  the  meaning  of  these  actions 
on  the  master  mechanic's  part. 

A  strict  record  is  kept  of  the  service  of 
every  employee.  A  report  is  filed  with  the 
head  of  the  department  of  all  violations 
of  the  rules,  and  the  punishments  awarded 
for  the  same;  so  that  when  at  any  time  a 
serious  offense  is  committed,  the  superin- 
tendent can  call  for  the  man's  record,  and 
base  his  decision  to  a  great  extent  upon  it, 
and  as  it  is  a  practical  impossibility  to  obey 
all  orders  and  at  the  same  time  perform 
one's  duty,  a  prejudiced  official  can  ruin 
the  record  of  any  man. 

Hussey  having  retired  before  he  had 
succeeded  in  filling  all  of  the  vacancies 
with  hired  men,  a  couple  of  the  old  fire- 
men were  promoted,  and  their  places  on 
passenger  trains  filled  by  promoting  fire- 
men from  the  freight  department.  Al- 
though there  were  three  older  men  than  I 
on  freight,  one  of  those  promoted  was 
younger;  so  I  went  to  the  two  men  older 
than  myself  and  reminded  them  of  what 
the  general  manager  had  promised  ns, 
asking  them  if  they  didn't  intend  to  kick 
for  their  promotion.  At  first  they  said, 
"Ah,  what's  the  use?  The  engineer 
asked  for  that  man;  and  if  we  make  a 
fuss,  we  might  get  the  place,  but  both  the 
master  mechanic  and  the  engineer  would 
be  down  on  us,  and  it  would  not  do  us  anv 
good." 

Finally  they  said  that  if  I  would  go  with 
them,  they  would  request  the  master  me- 
chanic to  do  the  right  thing. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  I;  "  I'll  head  no  more 
committees  for  you  fellows;  but  if  you  are 
not  going  to  demand  your  rights,  I  am 
mine.  I'll  not  permit  a  man  to  be  pro- 
moted over  my  head  if  I  can  help  it." 

I  marched  directly  to  the  master  me- 
chanic's office.  He  was  in,  and  looking  up, 
as  I  fancied,  rather  suspiciously — or  shall  I 
say  guiltily  ? — demanded  to  know  my  busi- 
ness. I  told  him  that  1  understood  that 
it  was  the  policy  of  the  road  to  promote 
men  according  to  their  seniority,  and  as  a 
younger  man  than  I  had  been  promoted, 
I  had  come  in  to  see  him  about  it. 

"  Who  is  it  ?"  said  he. 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


PROMOTION  TO  A  PASSENGER  ENGINE, 


373 


"  Peterson,  sir." 

"  Is  Peterson  a  younger  man  than  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

He  called  for  a  book,  which  he  looked 
over,  and  then  said:  "Yes,  he  is;  but 
Whitworth  and  Collins  are  both  your  sen- 
iors, so  I  don't  see  as  you  are  entitled  to 
anything." 

I  told  him  they  were  the  only  two  ahead 
of  me;  but  that  if  he  put  Peterson  ahead, 
that  made  three;  that  I  had  fired  over  two 
years,  and  didn't  see  why  I  should  forfeit 
promotion  in  favor  of  another.  He  closed 
the  book  with  a  bang,  asked  me  if  I 
wanted  that  train,  and  when  I  said  I  did, 
he  answered:  "All  right,  sir;  you  can 
have  it." 

"  Shall  I  take  her  next  trip,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes;   or  you  can    pay   your  fare  to 

,  and  fire  her  back  to-night  if   you 

like" — savagely. 

1  thanked  him  as  humbly  as  I  could  and 
went  out;  my  heart  somewhat  misgiving 
me.  Whitworth  and  Collins  asked  me  how 
I  made  out. 

"  I  got  the  train,"  said  I. 

'  Bully  for  you!  "  said  Whitworth. 

"  You  won't  keep  it  a  week,"  said  Col- 
lins. 

"Well,  I've  got  it,  anyway,  and  I'll 
keep  it  as  long  as  I  can,  and  I  won't  be 
put  off  it  for  nothing,  either,"  said  I,  my 
courage  returning  now  that  I  was  clear  of 
the  office. 

SUBDUING    AN    UNFRIENDLY    ENGINEER. 

The  next  day  I  came  down  to  the  round- 
house bright  and  early,  so  as  to  be  sure 
and  have  my  engine  ready  on  time  and  in 
good  shape,  for  I  knew  I  would  not  be 
apt  to  get  a  very  cordial  reception  from 
the  engineer,  and  I  didn't  want  to  give 
him  cause  for  complaint.  I  had  her  shin- 
ing like  a  glass  bottle  full  of  pitch  when 
he  came  along.  He  was  a  surly,  impor- 
tant fellow,  very  unpopular  with  the  fire- 
men, as  he  was  one  of  those  who  believed 
that  a  locomotive  engineer  was  little,  if 
any,  lower  than  the  gods,  and  firemen 
were  especially  created  to  be  their  serv- 
ants. When  he  climbed  aboard  and  saw  me 
busily  at  work,  he  stopped  short,  and  said: 
"  What  are  you  doin'  on  this  engine  ?  " 
"  Getting  her  ready  to  go  out." 
"  What's  the  matter  with  Billy  ?  " 
"  Nothing  as  I  know  of.  This  train 
don't  belong  to  him,  so  he's  been  put  back 
on  freight." 

"Oho!  So  you've  worked  him  out  of 
his  job,  hey?" 


"  Nor  I  have  got  him  out  of  my  job, 
that's  all." 

"Your  job,  hey?  You  can't  fire  this 
train." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"Because  you  never  fired  a  passenger 
train,  an'  this  is  an  almighty  hard  train. 
I  got  Billy  Peterson  put  on  here  because 
I  wanted  him,  an'  now  you've  got  his  job 
away  from  him.  Things  are  coming  to  a 
fine  pass  when  firemen  run  the  road.  I'll 
tell  you  one  thing,  my  young  buck:  you've 
bit  off  more'n  you  can  chew  this  time;  if 
I  don't  give  you  a  belly-full  before  you 
see  this  roundhouse  again,  you  can  call 
me  a  Quaker ! ' ' 

"See  here,  Mr.  Simpson,"  said  I;  "I 
don't  know  of  any  firemen  that  are  run- 
ning the  road,  but  I  do  know  that  no  engi- 
neers are  running  it.  The  day  when  fire- 
men had  no  rights  on  this  road  is  past, 
and  you  may  as  well  admit  that  fact. 
This  tram  belongs  to  me.  I  can  fire  it  as 
well  as  anybody;  and  if  you  work  against 
me  to  knock  me  out,  I'll  beat  you  at  your 
own  game  and  get  you  discharged." 

He  sat  and  stared  at  me,  with  his  mouth 
open  in  amazement,  while  I  uttered  this 
pure  bluff;  then  regaining  his  senses,  he 
jumped  down  off  the  engine  in  a  rage,  say- 
ing, "  Well,  I  won't  take  you  if  I  have  to 
go  out  alone."  And  off  he  went  to  the 
office,  but  came  back  again  directly,  and 
without  a  word  pulled  out  for  the  train- 
shed.  After  we  got  coupled  on,  and  while 
waiting  for  the  conductor's  signal,  he 
turned  to  me  and  said:  "You've  forced 
yourself  on  here  where  you're  not  wanted, 
and  now  mind  what  I  tell  you,  you'll  keep 
this  engine  hot,  or  I'll  do  a  little  reporting 
to  the  general  manager  myself;  then  we'll 
see  who'll  get  discharged." 

"All  right,"  said  I;  "I  can  keep  her 
hot  if  you  run  her  right;  and  now  let  me 
tell  you  something:  I'm  entitled  to  this 
job,  and  I'm  going  to  have  it,  in  spite  of 
you,  and  if  I  lose  it  for  any  reason, 
whether  it's  my  fault  or  not,  I'll  make  no 
reports  to  anybody;  but  I'll  lick  you  every 
day  for  a  year,  as  big  as  you  are. ' ' 

I  heard  the  conductor  call  out  "  All 
aboard,"  saw  Simpson  look  back,  and  as 
he  jerked  the  throttle  wide  open,  I  rang 
the  bell  with  one  hand,  and  opened  the 
fire  door  with  the  other,  keeping  it  open 
until  he  got  through  slipping  her. 

Not  another  word  passed  between  us 
during  the  trip.  I  kept  her  good  and  hot. 
He  ran  her  correctly,  and  on  the  return  run 
he  told  me  he  didn't  blame  me  any  for  the 
stand  I  had  taken,  as  a  man  would  be  a 

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374 


DISASTER    TO  A   FAST  EXPRESS. 


fool  not  to  get  what  belonged  to  him  on  a 
railroad  if  he  could. 

I  fired  for  him  nearly  two  years;  and 
though  I  could  never  quite  forget  the  atti- 
tude he  had  assumed  toward  me  at  first, 
we  became  eventually  quite  good  friends. 
He  understood  his  business  thoroughly, 
and  could  make  time  easily  with  a  train 
that  would  have  kept  some  of  the  old  run- 
ners on  the  anxious  seat.  He  would  insist 
on  having  his  engine  kept  in  first-class 
repair,  even  though  he  had  to  have  a  stand- 
up  row  with  the  master  mechanic  to  get 
the  work  done,  all  of  which  made  my 
work  much  easier.  The  natural  conse- 
quence was  that  we  made  a  name  for  fast 
runs,  and  were  frequently  sent  out  with 
specials. 

IGNORING    THE   RULES   IN   ORDER    TO   MAKE 
TIME. 

There  was  a  fast  express  from  the  East 
which  seldom  arrived  on  time  during  the 
winter,  being  delayed  by  snow.  As  it  was 
an  early  morning  train  into  Chicago,  and 
of  a  somewhat  local  nature  on  our  division, 
business  men  were  continually  complaining 
of  the  delay  and  inconvenience  caused  them 
by  its  being  late;  so  one  winter,  in  order  to 
satisfy  them,  a  first  section  was  run  over 
the  division,  hauled  by  the  regular  engine, 
to  do  the  local  work,  and  we  were  stationed 
with  our  engine  at  the  other  end  of  the 
division,  to  take  the  regular  train  when  it 
came  along,  and  run  it  as  a  second  section, 
making  no  stops  unless  there  were  pas- 
sengers to  get  off,  which  seldom  occurred. 
It  was  an  open  secret  that  this  job  was 
given  to  Simpson  on  account  of  his  rec- 
ord-breaking proclivities,  and  the  super- 
intendent would  usually  meet  us  on  the 
station  platform  and  congratulate  him  on 
his  lightning  run;  for  we  would  frequently 
make  up  an  hour  and  a  half,  following  the 
first  section  right  in.  Now,  of  course, 
the  superintendent  knew  that,  in  order  to 
make  such  flying  trips  as  that,  it  was  nec- 
essary to  disregard  yard-limit  rules  and 
slow-downs,  but  he  was  so  pleased  with 
the  record  the  road  was  making  in  deliver- 
ing its  Eastern  train  on  time,  that  he  said 
never  a  word. 

Some  eighty  miles  out  from  Chicago 
there  was  a  small  city  where  we  had  a  large 
freight-yard  nearly  three  miles  long.  The 
yard-limit  rule  required  all  engines  to  re- 
duce speed  to  six  miles  an  hour  when  run- 
ning within  the  limits  of  any  railroad 
yard — a  rule  that  was  never  respected  by 
any  one,  nor  enforced;    it  was   merely   a 


hole  for  the  company  to  crawl  out  of  in 
case  of  a  collision  in  the  yard.  No  train 
could  make  time  if  the  engineer  observed 
that  rule,  for  there  were  miles  and  miles  of 
yards  on  the  division.  It  is  also  a  rigid 
rule  that  the  main  track  must  not  be  used 
between  sections  of  a  first-class  train,  for 
the  sections  are  all  regarded  as  one  train; 
consequently  the  train  has  not  passed  until 
the  last  section  has  gone.  But  on  a  certain 
unfortunate  morning  a  freight  crew  were 
doing  some  switching  in  the  yard  I  speak 
of,  and  before  they  went  to  work  the  con- 
ductor had  learned  from  the  operator  that 
"Second  Four"  was  an  hour  and  fifteen 
minutes  late;  so  as  it  was  reasonable  to 
suppose  that  she  would  be  at  least  half  an 
hour  late  at  the  yard,  he  instructed  his 
flagman  to  hold  her,  unless  he  was  called 
in  before  she  arrived.  This  would  give 
him  a  chance  to  use  that  track  for  a  few 
minutes  if  he  needed  it,  as  he  knew  that 
even  if  the  miraculous  happened,  and 
Second  Four  made  up  more  time  than  it 
was  in  human  power  to  do,  he  would  be 
protected  until  he  could  get  off  her  track, 
close  the  switch,  and  call  his  flag.  In 
fact,  he  did  the  unpardonable  in  railroad- 
ing,— he# "  took  chances." 

It  so  'happened  that  after  First  Four 
passed,  he  had  occasion  to  cross  to  the 
other  side  of  the  yard;  so  he  told  his  en- 
gineer of  the  precautions  he  had  taken 
and  asked  him  to  cross  over.  The  engi- 
neer declined,  saying  he  knew  better  than 
to  cross  over  between  sections  of  a  first- 
class  train.  They  argued  the  question 
awhile,  and  finally  the  conductor  per- 
suaded him  that  he  would  be  foolish  to  lay 
there  half  an  hour  or  more  waiting  for 
her,  when  it  was  only  a  minute's  work  to 
slip  across, — and  they  were  protected  any- 
how. At  last,  being  over-persuaded,  the 
engineer  said:  "Ail  right;  get  your 
switches  open,  and  I'll  cross  over."  Dur- 
ing this  conversation  more  minutes  than 
they  thought  had  gone  by.  Everything 
having  been  favorable,  we  had  made  a 
most  extraordinary  run ;  and  the  flagman, 
knowing  that  his  conductor  would  not  dare 
hold  a  first-class  train,  had  not  gone  out 
very  far,  and  was  listening  for  the  whistle 
signal  which  should  tell  him  to  let  Second 
Four  come,  when  we  came  wheeling  round 
the  curve  sixty-five  miles  an  hour. 

He  frantically  waved  his  red  flag  as  we 
flew  by.  Jack  shut  off,  reversed,  applied 
the  air-brake,  and  blew  a  blast  on  his 
whistle  that  made  that  freight  crew's  hair 
stand  on  end.  Their  engine  was  squarely 
out  on  the  track  ahead  of  us,  backing  over. 


Digitized  by 


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A   QUICK  SWITCH-OVER  IN  THE  DARK. 


375 


The  engineer  pulled  his  throttle  wide  open 
in  the  effort  to  get  across,  but  he  hadn't 
time.  We  hit  her  right  on  the  back  drive ; 
both  engines  rolled  over  on  their  sides,  and 
both  engineers  and  firemen  were  thrown 
out  of  their  cabs  and  rolled  around  the 
yard.  Luckily  no  one  was  seriously  in- 
jured, though  several  passengers  were 
bruised  and  cut  by  flying  glass,  and  the 
tracks  were  pretty  well  torn  up. 

While  Jack  and  I  were  busy  getting  the 
fire  out  of  our  engine,  the  conductor  went 
up  to  the  telegraph  office  and  reported  the 
wreck,  and  inside  of  an  hour  a  new  train 
was  backed  down  on  one  of  the  yard 
tracks,  our  passengers  and  baggage  trans- 
ferred, and  we  went  on.  Next  day  all 
hands  were  called  to  the  office,  and  from 
the  mass  of  lies  we  told  the  superintend- 
ent sifted  the  truth.  The  conductor, 
engineer,  and  flagman  of  the  freight  were 
discharged  at  once,  and  Jack  was  sus- 
pended. 

After  he  had  loafed  over  thirty  days  and 
heard  nothing  from  the  superintendent, 
he  called  on  the  gentleman,  and  asked 
what  he  was  going  to  do  with  him.  The 
superintendent  blazed  out  wrathfuily:  "  I 
don't  know  what  to  do  with  you..  If  the 
law  allowed  me  to,  I'd  hang  you;  a  man 
who  would  go  through  a  yard  as  you  did 
ought  to  be  hung."  To  which  Jack  re- 
plied in  righteous  indignation:  "Well,  I 
wish  you'd  do  something  with  me.  I  can't 
afford  to  lay  round  here  all  summer  wait- 
ing for  you  to  make  up  your  mind." 

"You  needn't  lay  round  one  minute. 
Do  you  understand  that  ?  Not  one  min- 
ute." 

Jack  wasn't  discharged — he  was  too 
good  a  man  to  let  go;  but  after  he  got 
back  to  work  he  said  that  if  they  wanted 
any  more  records  broken  they  might  get 
somebody  else  to  do  it;  he  was  going  to 
run  according  to  the  rules. 

ENCOUNTER    WITH    A    RUNAWAY    ENGINE. 

One  evening,  just  as  the  conductor  gave 
the  signal  and  we  had  started  from  the 
water-plug,  the  operator  came  flying  out  of 
his  office,  waving  an  order  and  shouting  like 
mad.  We  were  four  minutes  late,  and  as 
I  shouted  "whoa"  to  Jack,  I  could  see 
that  he  was  mad.  But  that  same  four 
minutes  was  our  salvation;  for  if  we  had 
got  away  from  that  station  on  time,  we 
would  have  met  with  a  very  large  surprise 
party  a  little  later.  The  operator  handed 
up  an  order  to  the  effect  that  engine  96 
had  run  away  from and  was  coming 


east  on  the  west-bound  track.  That  was 
all,  and  enough,  too;  we  knew  she  was 
coming,  heading  for  us,  but  how  far  away 
she  was,  or  how  fast  she  was  coming,  we 
didn't  know.  It  was  a  time  to  think  and 
act  quickly.  Right  behind  us  was  an  iron 
bridge  eighty  feet  above  the  rocky  bed  of 
a  mountain  stream;  an  eighth  of  a  mile 
beyond  the  bridge  was  a  cross-over  switch. 
As  there  was  no  siding  on  our  track,  our 
only  way  was  to  back  over  this.  Although 
we  were  tolerably  sure  that  there  was 
nothing  coming  behind  us  on  our  track, 
still  it  is  a  grave  violation  of  the  rules 
to  back  up  without  first  sending  a  flag 
back  to  protect  you.  There  was  nothing 
else  for  it,  however,  so  Jack,  shouting  to 
the  operator  to  hold  everything  east-bound, 
as  he  was  going  to  back  over,  commenced 
backing  right  away,  telling  me  to  notify 
the  conductor  and  get  back  on  the  engine 
as  quickly  as  possible. 

When  I  got  back,  he  told  me  to  watch 
out  ahead,  and  if  I  saw  her  coming,  to 
sing  out,  so  as  we  could  get  off  if  she  was 
coming  too  fast.  It  was  an  anxious  mo- 
ment; the  rear  brakeman  was  giving  the 
signal,  and  when  we  got  near  the  switch  it 
was  necessary  to  slack  up  so  he  could  get 
off,  unlock,  and  open  it.  I  don't  suppose 
that  switch  had  been  used  much ;  that  was 
the  only  time  I  ever  saw  it  used.  And 
passenger  brakemen  are  proverbially  slow 
at  such  matters,  for  they  hate  to  soil  their 
white  hands  and  good  clothes.  It  seemed 
as  if  he  would  never  get  it  open.  Jack 
had  to  come  to  a  full  stop  to  keep  from 
running  over  it,  and  I  could  hear  him  mut- 
tering curses  on  the  unfortunate  brakeman, 
who,  I  have  no  doubt,  was  doing  his  level 
best  and  at  last  got  the  switch  open. 
Then  it  appeared  that  the  conductor  had 
not  had  sufficient  forethought  to  send  an- 
other man  to  the  other  one;  but  the  same 
fellow  had  to  go  and  fumble  with  it,  call- 
ing forth  more  anathemas  from  us.  At 
last  we  got  the  welcome  signal  to  back  up, 
and  he  gave  her  a  jerk  back  that  made  all 
the  passengers  bob  their  heads.  The  way 
we  went  over  those  cross-over  switches 
was  a  flagrant  violation  of  all  railroad 
precedent,  but  we  got  across  all  right,  and 
I  jumped  off  and  closed  the  head  switch. 

"  Now,  let  her  come!  "  said  Jack. 

It  was  getting  dark.  We  got  off  and 
walked  up  to  the  station  to  find  out  as 
many  particulars  as  we  could.  All  the 
agent  knew  was  that  she  had  passed  the 
first  station,  eight  miles  out,  in  less  than 
seven  minutes  after  it  was  discovered  that 
she  had  gone  off  on  her  own  hook.    As  she 

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376 


GROSS  NEGLECT  OF  A   SMALL  REPAIR. 


should  have  passed  by  some  time  ago  at 
that  rate  of  going,  we  judged  that  she  had 
either  slowed  up  or  ditched  herself,  and 
Jack  and  I  were  arguing  the  advisability 
of  asking  permission  to  cut  our  engine 
loose  and  run  down  on  the  opposite  track 
in  search  of  her,  when  a  chorus  of  "  Here 
she  comes!  "  from  the  crowd  of  passengers 
and  countrymen  who  had  gathered  at  the 
station  called  our  attention  to  the  track. 

It  was  a  strange  and  weird  sight  that 
met  our  gaze.  The  crowd  stood  silent  and 
breathless  as  she  passed.  She  had  slowed 
down  to  about  twenty  miles  per  hour,  and 
as  she  was  hooked  up  to  within  one  short 
notch  of  the  center,  the  steam  had  gone 
down,  and  her  cylinder  cocks  were  open, 
and  there  was  no  perceptible  exhaust  from 
the  stack,  but  only  a  slight  phit!  phit! 
from  the  cylinder  cocks,  as  she  loomed  up 
in  the  dusk.  Big,  black,  and  indistinct 
she  crept  up  to  us,  all  hands  drawing  back 
as  though  she  was  something  uncanny. 
Not  a  sound  of  whistle  or  bell  heralded 
her  approach;  not  a  glimmer  of  light 
showed  her  the  way;  but  like  an  appari- 
tion she  appeared  to  us  for  an  instant,  and 
was  gone;  swallowed  up  in  the  night  so 
quickly  and  silently  that  we  could  hardly 
believe  our  own  eyes. 

For  an  instant  we  stood  like  a  lot  of 
dummies,  looking  at  the  blackness  where 
she  had  been ;  then  Jack  broke  the  spell 
by  calling  to  the  conductor  to  cut  our  en- 
gine off  and  open  the  switches,  saying 
that  as  she  was  so  nearly  out  of  steam  we 
could  easily  catch  her  and  bring  her  back. 
So  we  crossed  over  and  started  after  her, 
and  this  was  a  ticklish  job.  As  we  were 
backing,  our  headlight  didn't  show,  while 
she  had  no  lights  at  all,  and  no  man  could 
tell  where  she  might  stop  or  leave  the 
track ;  so  it  was  a  case  of  guess.  If  we  ran 
too  slow,  we  might  chase  her  for  miles; 
or  we  might  run  into  her  unexpectedly  at 
any  moment,  wrecking  both  tenders. 

A  brakeman  and  myself  stood  on  the 
rear  of  our  tender,  holding  lanterns  aloft, 
and  watching  with  all  our  eyes,  while  the 
conductor  rode  in  my  side  of  the  cab,  un- 
consciously ringing  the  bell  as  if  to  warn 
her  not  to  get  herself  run  down.  We  went 
carefully  around  the  curve  and  up  a  slight 
grade,  and — there  she  stood,  spent,  her  pic- 
nicking done.  We  towed  her  back  to  the 
yard,  I  dumped  what  remained  of  her  fire, 
and  we  went  on. 

Now  what  do  you  suppose  caused  that 
engine   to  run   away  ?     A  weak   throttle 


latch-spring,  which  had  been  reported  over 
and  over  again,  and  which  would  have 
cost  to  replace  probably  from  three  to  four 
cents!  Of  course  it  was  attended  to  at 
once  after  this  ?  Not  at  all.  I  ran  her 
a  year  afterwards  with  the  same  flimsy 
spring,  and  I  had  a  set  of  blocks  made  to 
chock  her  wheels,  in  order  to  prevent  a  re- 
currence of  the  adventure  while  she  was 
in  my  charge.  Why  didn't  I  report  it  ? 
I  did,  daily,  until  I  got  tired  of  doing  so. 

On  the  evening  when  she  headed  us,  the 
hostler  had  cleaned  her  fire  and  backed 
her  down  into  "the  hole";  he  was  in  a 
hurry, — that  was  his  normal  condition. 
He  should  have  had  two  helpers,  but 
didn't  have  any;  so  he  shut  her  off,  pulled 
the  lever  up  on  the  center  (approximately), 
and  opened  the  cylinder  cocks,  thereby 
complying  with  the  rules.  Then  he  jumped 
off  and  went  after  another  engine.  The 
weak  spring  failed  to  latch  the  throttle 
shut,  it  worked  open  a  little  way,  and 
being  light,  not  yet  coaled  or  watered,  she 
crawled  up  out  of  ' '  the  hole  ' '  in  spite  of  her 
open  cylinder  cocks,  and  started  off  down 
the  yard.  In  cleaning  the  fire  a  spark  had 
ignited  the  waste  on  top  of  the  back 
driving-box.  The  blaze  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  my  old  friend  Pop,  who  was 
oiling  his  engine  and  talking  with  a  couple 
of  firemen  as  she  passed.  Thinking  that 
the  hostler  was  taking  her  out  to  the  coal- 
pockets,  he  shouted:  "Hey!  yer  back 
drivin'-box  is  afire."  As  no  one  an- 
swered, they  all  looked  carefully  at  her  and 
saw  that  she  was  alone.  A  shout  went 
up, — "  That  engine's  runnin'  away!  "  The 
fireman  of  a  nearby  switch  engine  leaped 
to  the  ground  and  sprinted  after  her.  In 
the  meantime  old  96,  having  passed  all 
the  switches,  and  got  upon  the  main  track, 
was  gaining  speed  with  every  revolution  of 
her  big  drivers.  The  fireman  touched  the 
back  of  her  tank  with  the  tips  of  his  out- 
stretched fingers,  and  then  with  a  derisive 
wiggle  of  her  drawhead  she  glided  away. 

He  was  directly  in  front  of  the  tele- 
graph office  when  he  realized  that  the 
race  was  lost,  and  rushed  into  the  office, 
told  the  operator  what  had  happened,  and 
advised  him  to  tell  Wilson,  eight  miles 
away,  to  side-track  her.  Wilson  got  the 
message  all  right,  and  started  on  the  run. 
As  he  opened  the  door,  a  meteor  shot  by, 
and  glancing  up  the  line,  a  faint  glimpse 
of  the  back  end  of  a  tender  with  a  big  yel- 
low 96  on  it,  disappearing  round  the  curve 
in  a  cloud  of  dust,  told  him  she  had  gone. 


Editor's  Note.— Mr.  Hamblen  will  follow  this  with  a  paper  relating  his  experiences  as  an  engineer. 

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ItoEBKIlK'COME&ToYELIiOY  SK£ 


I  HE  great  Pullman  was 
whirling  onward  with  such 
dignity  of  motion  that  a 
glance  from  the  window 
seemed  simply  to  prove 
that  the  plains  of  Texas 
were  pouring  eastward. 
Vast  flats  of  green  grass, 
dull-hued  spaces  of  mesquite  and  cactus, 
little  groups  of  frame  houses,  woods  of 
light  and  tender  trees,  all  were  sweeping 
into  the  east,  sweeping  over  the  horizon, 
a  precipice. 

A  newly  married  pair  had  boarded  this 
coach  at  San  Antonio.  The  man's  face 
was  reddened  from  many  days  in  the  wind 
and  sun,  and  a  direct  result  of  his  new 
black  clothes  was  that  his  brick-colored 
hands  were  constantly  performing  in  a  most 
conscious  fashion.  From  time  to  time  he 
looked  down  respectfully  at  his  attire. 
He  sat  with  a  hand  on  each  knee,  like  a 
man  waiting  in  a  barber's  shop.  The 
glances  he  devoted  to  other  passengers 
were  furtive  and  shy. 

The  bride  was  not  pretty,  nor  was  she 
very  young.  She  wore  a  dress  of  blue 
cashmere,  with  small  reservations  of  velvet 
here  and  there  and  with  steel  buttons 
abounding.  She  continually  twisted  her 
head  to  regard  her  puff  sleeves,  very  stiff, 
straight,  and  high.  They  embarrassed 
her.  It  was  quite  apparent  that  she  had 
cooked,  and  that  she  expected  to  cook, 
dutifully.  The  blushes  caused  by  the 
careless  scrutiny  of  some  passengers  as 
she  had  entered  the  car  were  strange  to 
see  upon  this  plain,  under-class  counte- 
nance, which  was  drawn  in  placid,  almost 
emotionless  lines. 


It's  fine,  ain't  it?" 

"  Great!  And  then  after  a  while  we'll 
go  forward  to  the  diner  and  get  a  big  lay- 
out. Finest  meal  in  the  world.  Charge  a 
dollar." 

"Oh,  do  they?"  cried  the  bride. 
"  Charge  a  dollar  ?  Why,  that's  too  much 
— for  us — ain't  it,  Jack  ?  " 

"  Not  this  trip,  anyhow,"  he  answered 
bravely.  "  We're  going  to  go  the  whole 
thing." 

Later,  he  explained  to  her  about  the 
trains.  "You  see,  it's  a  thousand  miles 
from  one  end  of  Texas  to  the  other,  and 
this  train  runs  right  across  it  and  never 
stops  but  four  times."  He  had  the  pride 
of  an  owner.  He  pointed  out  to  her  the 
dazzling  fittings  of  the  coach,  and  in  truth 
her  eyes  opened  wider  as  she  contemplated 
the  sea-green  figured  velvet,  the  shining 
brass,  silver,  and  glass,  the  wood  that 
gleamed  as  darkly  brilliant  as  the  surface 
of  a  pool  of  oil.  At  one  end  a  bronze 
figure  sturdily  held  a  support  for  a  sepa- 
rated chamber,  and  at  convenient  places  on 
the  ceiling  were  frescoes  in  olive  and 
silver. 

To  the  minds  of  the  pair,  their  sur- 
roundings reflected  the  glory  of  their  mar- 
riage that  morning  in  San  Antonio.  This 
was  the  environment  of  their  new  estate, 
and  the  man's  face  in  particular  beamed 
with  an  elation  that  made  him  appear  ridic- 
ulous to  the  negro  porter.  This  individ- 
ual at  times  surveyed  them  from  afar  with 
an  amused  and  superior  grin.  On  other 
occasions  he  bullied  them  with  skill  in 
ways  that  did  not  make  it  exactly  plain  to 
them  that  they  were  being  bullied.  He 
subtly  used  all  the  manners  of  the  most 
unconquerable  kind  of  snobbery.     He  op- 

Goo^Ie 


Digitized  by  * 


37» 


THE  BRIDE  COMES   TO   YELLOW  SKY. 


pressed  them,  but  of  this  oppression  they 
had  small  knowledge,  and  they  speedily 
forgot  that  infrequently  a  number  of  trav- 
elers covered  them  with  stares  of  derisive 
enjoyment.  Historically  there  was  sup- 
posed to  be  something  infinitely  humorous 
in  their  situation. 

"We  are  due  in  Yellow  Sky  at  3.42," 
he  said,  looking  tenderly  into  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  are  we  ? "  she  said,  as  if  she  had 
not  been  aware  of  it.  To  evince  surprise 
at  her  husband's  statement  was  part  of 
her  wifely  amiability.  She  took  from  a 
pocket  a  little  silver  watch,  and  as  she 
held  it  before  her  and  stared  at  it  with  a 
frown  of  attention,  the  new  husband's 
face  shone. 

"  I  bought  it  in  San  Anton'  from  a  friend 
of  mine,"  he  told  her  gleefully. 

"It's  seventeen  minutes  past  twelve," 
she  said,  looking  up  at  him  with  a  kind  of 
shy  and  clumsy  coquetry.  A  passenger, 
noting  this  play,  grew  excessively  sar- 
donic, and  winked  at  himself  in  one  of  the 
numerous  mirrors. 

At  last  they  went  to  the  dining-car. 
Two  rows  of  negro  waiters,  in  glowing 
white  suits,  surveyed  their  entrance  with 
the  interest  and  also  the  equanimity  of 
men  who  had  been  forewarned.  The  pair 
fell  to  the  lot  of  a  waiter  who  happened  to 
feel  pleasure  in  steering  them  through 
their  meal.  He  viewed  them  with  the  man- 
ner of  a  fatherly  pilot,  his  countenance 
radiant  with  benevolence.  The  patronage, 
entwined  with  the  ordinary  deference,  was 
not  plain  to  them.  And  yet,  as  they  re- 
turned to  their  coach,  they  showed  in  their 
faces  a  sense  of  escape. 


"  He  sat  with  m  hand  on  each  knee,  like  a  man  watting  in  a  barber's  shop" 


To  the  left,  miles  down  a  long  purple 
slope,  was  a  little  ribbon  of  mist  where 
moved  the  keening  Rio  Grande.  The  train 
was  approaching  it  at  an  angle,  and  the 
apex  was  Yellow  Sky.  Presently  it  was 
apparent  that,  as  the  distance  from  Yellow 
Sky  grew  shorter,  the  husband  became 
commensurately  restless.  His  brick-red 
hands  were  more  insistent  in  their  promi- 
nence. Occasionally  he  was  even  rather 
absent-minded  and  far-away  when  the  bride 
leaned  forward  and  addressed  him. 

As  a  matter  of  truth,  Jack  Potter  was 
beginning  to  find  the  shadow  of  a  deed 
weigh  upon  him  like  a  leaden  slab.  He, 
the  town  marshal  of  Yellow  Sky,  a  man 
known,  liked,  and  feared  in  his  corner,  a 
prominent  person,  had  gone  to  San  An- 
tonio to  meet  a  girl  he  believed  he  loved, 
and  there,  after  the  usual  prayers,  had  ac- 
tually induced  her  to  marry  him,  without 
consulting  Yellow  Sky  for  any  part  of  the 
transaction.  He  was  now  bringing  his 
bride  before  an  innocent  and  unsuspecting 
community. 

Of  course,  people  in  Yellow  Sky  married 
as  it  pleased  them,  in  accordance  with  a 
general   custom;    but   such   was  Potter's 
thought  of  his  duty  to  his  friends,  or  of 
their  idea  of  his  duty,  or  of  an  unspoken 
form  which  does  not  control  men  in  these 
matters,  that  he  felt  he  was  heinous.     He 
had  committed   an   extraordinary   crime. 
Face  to  face  with  this  girl  in  San  Antonio, 
and  spurred  by  his  sharp  impulse,  he  had 
gone  headlong  over  all  the  social  hedges. 
At  San  Antonio  he  was  like  a  man  hidden 
in  the  dark.   A  knife  to  sever  any  friendly 
duty,  any  form,  was  easy  to  his  hand  in 
that   remote  city. 
But   the    hour  of 
Yellow    Sky,    the 
hour  of  daylight, 
was  approaching. 
He    knew    full 
well  that  his  mar- 
riage was  an   im- 
portant   thing    to 
his  town.    It  could 
only  be  exceeded 
by  the  burning  of 
the    new    hotel. 
His  friends  could 
not   forgive    him. 
Frequently  he  had 
reflected     on    the 
advisability  of 
telling    them    by 
telegraph,    but    a 
new  cowardice  had 
been    upon     him. 


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STEPHEN  CRANE. 


379 


"  —  andattht  moment  that  the  old  man  fell  down  stairs  with  the  bureau  in  his  arms,  the  old  woman  was  coming  up  with  two  scuttles  of 

coal,  and,  of  course-— — " 


He  feared  to  do  it.  And  now  the  train 
was  hurrying  him  toward  a  scene  of  amaze- 
ment, glee,  and  reproach.  He  glanced 
out  of  the  window  at  the  line  of  haze 
swinging  slowly  in  towards  the  train. 

Yellow  Sky  had  a  kind  of  brass  band, 
which  played  painfully,  to  the  delight  of 
the  populace.  He  laughed  without  heart 
as  he  thought  of  it.  If  the  citizens  could 
dream  of  his  prospective  arrival  with  his 
bride,  they  would  parade  the  band  at  the 
station  and  escort  them,  amid  cheers  and 
laughing  congratulations,  to  his  adobe 
home. 

He  resolved  that  he  would  use  all  the 
devices  of  speed  and  plains-craft  in  mak- 
ing the  journey  from  the  station  to  his 
house.  Once  within  that  safe  citadel,  he 
could  issue  some  sort  of  a  vocal  bulletin, 
and  then  not  go  among  the  citizens  until 
they  had  time  to  wear  off  a  little  of  their 
enthusiasm. 

The  bride  looked  anxiously  at  him. 
"  What's  worrying  you,  Jack?  " 

He  laughed  again.  "  I'm  not  worrying, 
girl.     I'm  only  thinking  of  Yellow  Sky." 

She  flushed  in  comprehension. 

A  sense  of  mutual  guilt  invaded  their 
minds  and  developed  a  finer  tenderness. 
They  looked  at  each  other  with  eyes  softly 
aglow.  But  Potter  often  laughed  the  same 


nervous  laugh.  The  flush  upon  the  bride's 
face  seemed  quite  permanent. 

The  traitor  to  the  feelings  of  Yellow 
Sky  narrowly  watched  the  speeding  land- 
scape.    "  We're  nearly  there,"  he  said. 

Presently  the  porter  came  and  announced 
the  proximity  of  Potter's  home.  He  held 
a  brush  in  his  hand  and,  with  all  his  airy 
superiority  gone,  he  brushed  Potter's  new 
clothes  as  the  latter  slowly  turned  this  way 
and  that  way.  Potter  fumbled  out  a  coin 
and  gave  it  to  the  porter,  as  he  had  seen 
others  do.  It  was  a  heavy  and  muscle- 
bound  business,  as  that  of  a  man  shoeing 
his  first  horse. 

The  porter  took  their  bag,  and  as  the 
train  began  to  slow  they  moved  forward  to 
the  hooded  platform  of  the  car.  Presently 
the  two  engines  and  their  long  string  of 
coaches  rushed  into  the  station  of  Yellow 
Sky. 

"  They  have  to  take  water  here,"  said 
Potter,  from  a  constricted  throat  and  in 
mournful  cadence,  as  one  announcing 
death.  Before  the  train  stopped,  his  eye 
had  swept  the  length  of  the  platform,  and 
he  was  glad  and  astonished  to  see  there 
was  none  upon  it  but  the  station-agent, 
who,  with  a  slightly  hurried  and  anxious 
air,  was  walking  toward  the  water-tanks. 
When    the   train   had    halted,    the    porter 


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THE  BRIDE  COMES   TO  YELLOW  SKY. 


alighted  first  and  placed  in  position  a  little 
temporary  step. 

44  Come  on,  girl,"  said  Potter  hoarsely. 
As  he  helped  her  down  they  each  laughed 
on  a  false  note.     He  took  the  bag  from 
the  negro,  and  bade  his  wife  cling  to  his 
arm.      As  they   slunk   rapidly  away,    his 
hang-dog    glance   perceived 
that  they  were  unloading  the 
two  trunks,  and  also  that  the 
station-agent  far  ahead  near 
the  baggage-car  had  turned 
and  was  running  toward  him, 
making  gestures.     He 
laughed,  and  groaned  as  he 
laughed,  when  he  noted  the 
first  effect  of  his  marital  bliss 
upon  Yellow  Sky.     He 
gripped  his  wife's  arm  firmly 
to   his  side,  and  they  fled. 
Behind  them  the  porter 
stood  chuckling  fatuously. 


II. 


companions  in  the  saloon,  Yellow  Sky  was 
dozing.  The  new-comer  leaned  gracefully 
upon  the  bar,  and  recited  many  tales  with 
the  confidence  of  a  bard  who  has  come 
upon  a  new  field. 

44 and  at  the  moment  that  the  old 

man  fell  down  stairs  with  the  bureau  in  his 
arms,  the  old  woman  was 
coming  up  with  two  scuttles 

of  coal,  and,  of  course '  * 

The  drummer's  tale  was 
interrupted  by  a  young  man 
who  suddenly  appeared  in 
the  open  door.  He  cried: 
"  Scratchy  Wilson's  drunk, 
and  has  turned  loose  with 
both  hands."  The  two  Mex- 
icans at  once  set  down  their 
glasses  and  faded  out  of  the 
rear  entrance  of  the  sa- 
i    '  loon. 

*-;  The     drummer,     innocent 

jac*  pater.  and  jocular,  answered  :  "All 

right,  old  man.      S'pose  he 

Come  in  and  have  a  drink,  anyhow." 


The  California  Express  on  the  Southern 
Railway  was  due  at  Yellow  Sky  in  twenty- 
one  minutes.     There  were  six  men  at  the 
bar  of  the  "Weary  Gentleman"  saloon. 
One  was  a  drummer  who  talked  a  great 
deal  and  rapidly;  three  were  Texans  who 
did  not  care  to  talk  at  that 
time;  and  two  were  Mexi- 
can sheep-herders  who  did 
not  talk  as  a  general  prac- 
tice in  the  "  Weary  Gen-  / 
tleman  "     saloon.        The           \ 
barkeeper's  dog  lay  on  the  \ 
board  walk  that  crossed  in 
front   of   the   door.      His 
head  was  on  his  paws,  and 
he  glanced  drowsily  here 
and  there  with  the  constant 
vigilance  of  a  dog  that  is 
kicked  on  occasion. 
Across    the    sandy   street 
were    some    vivid    green 
grass  plots,  so  wonderful 
in    appearance    amid    the 
sands   that  burned  near  them  in  a  blaz- 
ing sun  that  they  caused  a  doubt  in  the 
mind.      They  exactly  resembled  the  grass 
mats  used  to  represent  lawns  on  the  stage. 
At  the  cooler  end  of  the  railway  station  a 
man   without   a  coat  sat  in  a  tilted  chair 
and  smoked  his  pipe.     The  fresh-cut  bank 
of  the  Rio  Grande  circled  near  the  town, 
and  there  could  be  seen  beyond  it  a  great, 
plum-colored  plain  of  mesquite. 

Save   for   the   busy   drummer   and    his 


has. 

But  the  information  had  made  such  an 

obvious  cleft  in  every  skull  in.  the  room 

that  the  drummer  was  obliged  to  see  its 

importance.       All    had   become  instantly 

solemn.       *4  Say,"     said     he,    mystified,. 

44  what  is  this  ?  "      His  three  companions 

made  the  introductory  gesture  of  eloquent 

speech,  but  the  young  man 

at    the     door     forestalled 

them. 

44  It  means,  my  friend," 
he  answered,  as  he  came 
into  the  saloon,  "that  for 
the  next  two  hours  this 
town  won't  be  a  health  re- 
sort." 

The  barkeeper  went  to 

i\      the   door  and   locked  and 

\  v\\      barred  it.    Reaching  out  of 

*  the   window,  he   pulled  in 

heavy  wooden  shutters  and 

barred  them.    Immediately 

a  solemn,   chapel-like 

scratch,  Wilson.  gloom  was  upon  the  place. 

The  drummer  was  looking 

from  one  to  another. 

"  But,  say,"  he  cried,  "what  is  this, 
anyhow  ?  You  don't  mean  there  is  going 
to  be  a  gun-fight  ?" 

"  Don't  know  whether  there'll  be  a  fight 
or  not,"  answered  one  man  grimly.  "  But 
there'll  be  some  shootin' — some  good 
shootin'." 

The  young  man  who  had  warned  them 
waved  his  hand.  "  Oh,  there'll  be  a  fight 
fast  enough,  if  anyone  wants  it.    Anybody 


**; 


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STEPHEN  CRANE. 


3«i 


can  get  a  fight  out  there  in  the  street. 
There's  a  fight  just  waiting." 

The  drummer  seemed  to  be  swayed  be- 
tween the  interest  of  a  foreigner  and  a 
perception  of  personal  danger. 

44  What  did  you  say  his  name  was  ?  "  he 
asked. 

44  Scratchy  Wilson,"  they  answered  in 
chorus. 

44  And  will  he  kill  anybody  ?  What  are 
you  going  to  do  ?  Does  this  happen 
often  ?     Does  he  rampage  around  like  this 


out  and  fights  Scratchy  when  he  gets  on 
one  of  these  tears." 

"Wow,"  said  the  drummer,  mopping 
his  brow.     "  Nice  job  he's  got." 

The  voices  had  toned  away  to  mere 
whisperings.  The  drummer  wished  to  ask 
further  questions  which  were  born  of  an 
increasing  anxiety  and  bewilderment;  but 
when  he  attempted  them,  the  men  merely 
looked  at  him  in  irritation  and  motioned 
him  to  remain  silent.  A  tense  waiting 
hush  was  upon  them.     In  the  deep  shad- 


% 


v-- 


ny<Utd,  mnd  tk*  dog  kr+At  imfr  mgmJUf." 


_  once  a  week  or  so  ?   Can 

he  break  in  that  door  ?  " 

*~" "  No,  he  can't  break 

down  that  door,"  replied  the  barkeeper. 
44  He's  tried  it  three  times.  But  when  he 
comes  you'd  better  lay  down  on  the  floor, 
stranger.  He's  dead  sure  to  shoot  at  it, 
and  a  bullet  may  come  through." 

Thereafter  the  drummer  kept  a  strict 
eye  upon  the  door.  The  time  had  not 
yet  been  called  for  him  to  hug  the  floor, 
but,  as  a  minor  precaution,  he  sidled  near 
to  the  wall.  "  Will  he  kill  anybody  ?  "  he 
said  again. 

The  men  laughed  low  and  scornfully  at 
the  question. 

44  He's  out  to  shoot,  and  he's  out  for 
trouble.  Don't  see  any  good  in  experi- 
mental' with  him." 

44  But  what  do  you  do  in  a  case  like 
this?     What  do  you  do?" 

A  man  responded:  "  Why,  he  and  Jack 
Potter " 

44  But,"  in  chorus,  the  other  men  inter- 
rupted, "Jack  Potter's  in  San  Anton'." 

44  Well,  who  is  he?  What's  he  got  to 
do  with  it?" 

44  Oh,  he's  the  town  marshal.     He  goes 


ows  of  the  room  their  eyes  shone  as  they 
listened  for  sounds  from  the  street.  One 
man  made  three  gestures  at  the  barkeeper, 
and  the  latter,  moving  like  a  ghost, 
handed  him  a  glass  and  a  bottle.  The 
man  poured  a  full  glass  of  whisky,  and  set 
down  the  bottle  noiselessly.  He  gulped 
the  whisky  in  a  swallow,  and  turned  again 
toward  the  door  in  immovable  silence. 
The  drummer  saw  that  the  barkeeper, 
without  a  sound,  had  taken  a  Winchester 
from  beneath  the  bar.  Later  he  saw  this 
individual  beckoning  to  him,  so  he  tiptoed 
across  the  room. 

44  You  better  come  with  me  back  of  the 
bar." 

44  No,  thanks,"  said  the  drummer,  per- 
spiring. 44  I'd  rather  be  where  I  can  make 
a  break  for  the  back  door." 

Whereupon  the  man  of  bottles  made  a 
kindly  but  peremptory  gesture.  The 
drummer  obeyed  it,  and  finding  himself 
seated  on  a  box  with  his  head  below  the 
level  of  the  bar,  balm  was  laid  upon  his 
soul  at  sight  of  various  zinc  and  copper  fit- 
tings that  bore  a  resemblance  to  armor- 
plate.  The  barkeeper  took  a  seat  com- 
fortably upon  an  adjacent  box. 

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THE  BRIDE  COMES   TO   YELLOW  SKY. 


"You  see,"  he  whispered,  "this  here 
Scratchy  Wilson  is  a  wonder  with  a  gun — 
a  perfect  wonder — and  when  he  goes  on 
the  war  trail,  we  hunt  our  holes — naturally. 
He's  about  the  last  one  of  the  old  gang 
that  used  to  hang  out  along  the  river  here. 
He's  a  terror  when  he's  drunk.  When 
he's  sober  he's  all  right — kind  of  simple — 
wouldn't  hurt  a  fly — nicest  fellow  in  town. 
But  when  he's  drunk — whoo!  " 

There  were  periods  of  stillness.  "I 
wish  Jack  Potter  was  back  from  San  An- 
ton'," said  the  barkeeper.  "  He  shot  Wil- 
son up  once — in  the  leg — and  he  would  sail 
in  and  pull  out  the  kinks  in  this  thing." 

Presently  they  heard  from  a  distance 
the  sound  of  a  shot,  followed  by  three 
wild  yowls.  It  instantly  removed  a  bond 
from  the  men  in  the  darkened  saloon. 
There  was  a  shuffling  of  feet.  They 
looked  at  each  other.  "  Here  he  comes," 
they  said. 

HI. 

A  man  in  a  maroon-colored  flannel  shirt, 
which  had  been  purchased  for  purposes  of 
decoration  and  made,  principally,  by  some 
Jewish  women  on  the  east  side  of  New 
York,  rounded  a  corner  and  walked  into 
the  middle  of  the  main  street  of  Yellow 
Sky.  In  either  hand  the  man  held  a  long, 
heavy,  blue-black  revolver.  Often  he 
yelled,  and  these  cries  rang  through  a 
semblance  of  a  deserted  village,  shrilly 
flying  over  the  roofs  in  a  volume  that 
seemed  to  have  no  relation  to  the  ordinary 
vocal  strength  of  a  man.  It  was  as  if  the 
surrounding  stillness  formed  the  arch  of  a 
tomb  over  him.  These  cries  of  ferocious 
challenge  rang  against  walls  of  silence. 
And  his  boots  had  red  tops  with  gilded 
imprints,  of  the  kind  beloved  in  winter  by 
little  sledding  boys  on  the  hillsides  of  New 
England. 

The  man's  face  flamed  in  a  rage  begot 
of  whisky.  His  eyes,  rolling  and  yet 
keen  for  ambush,  hunted  the  still  door- 
ways and  windows.  He  walked  with  the 
creeping  movement  of  the  midnight  cat. 
As  it  occurred  to  him,  he  roared  menacing 
information.  The  long  revolvers  in  his 
hands  were  as  easy  as  straws;  they  were 
moved  with  an  electric  swiftness.  The 
little  fingers  of  each  hand  played  some- 
times in  a  musician's  way.  Plain  from  the 
low  collar  of  the  shirt,  the  cords  of  his 
neck  straightened  and  sank,  straightened 
and  sank,  as  passion  moved  him.  The 
only  sounds  were  his  terrible  invitations. 
The  calm  adobes  preserved  their  demeanor 


at  the  passing  of  this  small  thing  in  the 
middle  of  the  street. 

There  was  no  offer  of  fight;  no  offer  of 
fight.  The  man  called  to  the  sky.  There 
were  no  attractions.  He  bellowed  and 
fumed  and  swayed  his  revolvers  here  and 
everywhere. 

The  dog  of  the  barkeeper  of  the  "  Weary 
Gentleman"  saloon  had  not  appreciated 
the  advance  of  events.  He  yet  lay  dozing 
in  front  of  his  master's  door.  At  sight  of 
the  dog,  the  man  paused  and  raised  his 
revolver  humorously.  At  sight  of  the 
man,  the  dog  sprang  up  and  walked  diag- 
onally away,  with  a  sullen  head,  and  growl- 
ing. The  man  yelled,  and  the  dog  broke 
into  a  gallop.  As  it  was  about  to  enter 
an  alley,  there  was  a  loud  noise,  a  whist- 
ling, and  something  spat  the  ground  di- 
rectly before  it.  The  dog  screamed,  and, 
wheeling  in  terror,  galloped  headlong  in  a 
new  direction.  Again  there  was  a  noise,  a 
whistling,  and  sand  was  kicked  viciously 
before  it.  Fear-stricken,  the  dog  turned 
and  flurried  like  an  animal  in  a  pen.  The 
man  stood  laughing,  his  weapons  at  his 
hips. 

Ultimately  the  man  was  attracted  by  the 
closed  door  of  the  "  Weary  Gentleman" 
saloon.  He  went  to  it,  and  hammering 
with  a  revolver,  demanded  drink. 

The  door  remaining  imperturbable,  he 
picked  a  bit  of  paper  from  the  walk  and 
nailed  it  to  the  framework  with  a  knife. 
He  then  turned  his  back  contemptuously 
upon  this  popular  resort,  and  walking  to 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  and  spin- 
ning there  on  his  heel  quickly  and  lithely, 
fired  at  the  bit  of  paper.  He  missed  it  by 
a  half  inch.  He  swore  at  himself,  and 
went  away.  Later,  he  comfortably  fusil- 
laded the  windows  of  his  most  intimate 
friend.  The  man  was  playing  with  this 
town.    .It  was  a  toy  for  him. 

But  still  there  was  no  offer  of  fight. 
The  name  of  Jack  Potter,  his  ancient  an- 
tagonist, entered  his  mind,  and  he  con- 
cluded that  it  would  be  aglad  thing  if  he 
should  go  to  Potter's  house  and  by  bom- 
bardment induce  him  to  come  out  and 
fight.  He  moved  in  the  direction  of  his 
desire,  chanting  Apache  scalp-music. 

When  he  arrived  at  it,  Potter's  house 
presented  the  same  still  front  as  had  the 
other  adobes.  Taking  up  a  strategic  po- 
sition, the  man  howled  a  challenge.  But 
this  house  regarded  him  as  might  a  great 
stone  god.  It  gave  no  sign.  After  a  de- 
cent wait,  the  man  howled  further  chal- 
lenges, mingling  with  them  wonderful 
epithets. 

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STEPHEN  CRANE, 


Presently  there  came  the  spectacle  of  a 
man  churning  himself  into  deepest  rage 
over  the  immobility  of  a  house.  He 
fumed  at  it  as  the  winter  wind  attacks  a 
prairie  cabin  in  the  North.  To  the  dis- 
tance there  should  have  gone  the  sound  of 
a   tumult   like  the  fighting  of  200  Mexi- 


from   its    holster, 
was  aimed   at   the 


another 
weapon 
chest. 

There  was  a   silence, 
seemed   to    be    merely 
tongue.      He  exhibited 
once  loosen   his  arm 


3^ 

The   second 
bridegroom's 


G»y-\«  ••  *  *V*-» 


1  I  ain't  got  a  gun  on  me.  Scratchy, 


cans.     As  necessity  bade  him,  he  paused 
for  breath  or  to  reload  his  revolvers. 


IV. 

Potter  and  his  bride  walked  sheepishly 
and  with  speed.  Sometimes  they  laughed 
together  shamefacedly  and  low. 

"  Next  corner,  dear,"  he  said  finally. 

They  put  forth  the  efforts  of  a  pair 
walking  bowed  against  a  strong  wind. 
Potter  was  about  to  raise  a  finger  to  point 
the  first  appearance  of  the  new  home 
when,  as  they  circled  the  corner,  they 
came  face  to  face  with  a  man  in  a  maroon- 
colored  shirt  who  was  feverishly  pushing 
cartridges  into  a  large  revolver.  Upon 
the  instant  the  man  dropped  his  revolver 
to  the  ground,  and,  like  lightning,  whipped 


Potter's  mouth 
a  grave  for  his 
an  instinct  to  at 
from  the  woman's 
gri  p,  and  he 
dropped  the  bag 
to  the  sand.  As 
for  the  bride,  her 
face  had  gone  as 
yellow  as  old. 
cloth.  She  was  a 
slave  to  hideous 
rites  gazing  at  the 
apparitional 
snake. 

The  two  men 
faced  each  other 
j  at  a  distance  of 
three  paces.  He 
of  the  revolver 
smiled  with  a  new 
and  quiet  ferocity. 
''Tried  to  sneak 
up  on  me,"  he 
said.  "  Tried  to 
sneak  up  on  me!" 
H  is  eyes  grew 
more  baleful.  As 
Potter  made  a 
slight  movement, 
the  man  thrust  his 
revolver  veno- 
mously forward. 
"  No,  don't  you 
do  it,  Jack  Potter. 
Don't  you  move  a 
finger  toward  a 
gun  just  yet. 
Don't  you  move 
an  eyelash.  The  time  has  come  for  me 
to  settle  with  you,  and  I'm  goin'  to  do 
it  my  own  way  and  loaf  along  with  no 
interferin*.  So  if  you  don't  want  a  gun 
bent  on  you,  just  mind  what  I  tell  you." 

Potter  looked  at  his  enemy.  "  I  ain't 
got  a  gun  on  me,  Scratchy,"  he  said. 
"  Honest,  I  ain't."  He  was  stiffening  and 
steadying,  but  yet  somewhere  at  the  back 
of  his  mind  a  vision  of  the  Pullman 
floated,  the  sea-green  figured  velvet,  the 
shining  brass,  silver,  and  glass,  the  wood 
that  gleamed  as  darkly  brilliant  as  the  sur- 
face of  a  pool  of  oil — all  the  glory  of  the 
marriage,  the  environment  of  the  new  es- 
tate. "You  know  I  fight  when  it  comes 
to  fighting,  Scratchy  Wilson,  but  I  ain't 
got  a  gun  on  me.  You'll  have  to  do  all 
the  shootin'  yourself." 


Honest,  /ain't." 


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3»4 


THE  BRIDE  COMES   TO   YELLOW  SKY. 


His  enemy's  face  went  livid.  He 
stepped  forward  and  lashed  his  weapon  to 
and  fro  before  Potter's  chest.  "  Don't 
you  tell  me  you  ain't  got  no  gun  on  you, 
you  whelp.  Don't  tell  me  no  lie  like  that. 
There  ain't  a  man  in  Texas  ever  seen  you 
without  no  gun.  Don't  take  me  for  no 
kid."  His  eyes  blazed  with  light,  and  his 
throat  worked  like  a  pump. 

"I  ain't  takin'  you  for  no  kid,"  an- 
swered Potter.  His  heels  had  not  moved 
an  inch  backward.     "I'm  takin'  you  for 

a  fool.      I  tell  you  I  ain't  got  a 

gun,  and  I  ain't.  If  you're  goin'  to 
shoot  me  up,  you  better  begin  now. 
You'll  never  get  a  chance  like  this 
again." 

So  much  enforced  reasoning  had  told 
on  Wilson's  rage.  He  was  calmer.  "If 
you  ain't  got  a  gun,  why  ain't  you  got  a 
gun?"  he  sneered.  "Been  to  Sunday- 
school?" 

"  I  ain't  got  a  gun  because  I've  just 
come  from  San  Anton'  with  my  wife.  I'm 
married,"  said  Potter.  "And  if  I'd 
thought  there  was  going  to  be  any  ga- 
loots like  you  prowling  around  when  I 
brought  my  wife  home,  I'd  had  a  gun,  and 
don't  you  forget  it." 


"Married!"  said  Scratchy,  not  at  all 
comprehending. 

"Yes',  married.  I'm  married,"  said 
Potter  distinctly. 

"  Married  ?  "  said  Scratchy.  Seemingly 
for  the  first  time  he  saw  the  drooping, 
drowning  woman  at  the  other  man's  side. 
"  No  !  "  he  said.  He  was  like  a  creature 
allowed  a  glimpse  of  another  world.  He 
moved  a  pace  backward,  and  his  arm  with 
the  revolver  dropped  to  his  side.  "  Is 
this  the  lady  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  this  is  the  lady,"  answered  Potter. 

There  was  another  period  of  silence. 

"  Well,"  said  Wilson  at  last,  slowly,  "  I 
s'pose  it's  all  off  now." 

"  It's  all  off  if  you  say  so,  Scratchy. 
You  know  I  didn't  make  the  trouble." 
Potter  lifted  his  valise. 

"Well,  I  'low  it's  off,  Jack,"  said  Wil- 
son. He  was  looking  at  the  ground. 
"Married!"  He  was  not  a  student  of 
chivalry;  it  was  merely  that  in  the  pres- 
ence of  this  foreign  condition  he  was  a 
simple  child  of  the  earlier  plains.  He 
picked  up  his  starboard  revolver,  and 
placing  both  weapons  in  their  holsters,  he 
went  away.  His  feet  made  funnel-shaped 
tracks  in  the  heavy  sand. 


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EDITORIAL  NOTES. 


MR.    DANA'S   NEW   VIEW  OF   MEN   AND  EVENTS   OF   THE  WAR. 


In  the  chapter  of  his  **  Reminiscences  "  printed  in 
this  number,  Mr.  Dana  changes  the  field  of  his 
activities  from  Vicksburg  to  Chattanooga.  He  is 
the  same  keen  observer  and  frank  reporter  as  before. 
On  the  way  he  has  a  curious  meeting  with  Andrew 
Johnson,  which  he  describes  with  full  appreciation 
of  its  picturesqueness  ;  and  at  his  new  post  he  comes 
into  the  closest  relations  with  Rosecrans,  Thomas, 
and  Garfield.  Again  his  story  proves  that  but  for 
the  publication  of  these  4*  Reminiscences,"  which 
Mr.  Dana  himself  regarded  so  indifferently,  most 
important  and  interesting  parts  of  the  history  of  the 
war  would  never  have  been  told.  Indeed,  no  such 
contribution  has  been  made  to  it  since  the  publica- 
tion of  Grant's  44  Memoirs."  Mr.  Dana  was,  as  Lin- 
coln said, 4t  the  eyes  of  the  government  at  the  front." 
Whatever  these  eyes  saw,  Mr.  Dana's  pen  at  once 
recorded,  without  distortion  or  reservation  ;  and  Mr. 
Lincoln  and  Mr.  Stanton  placed  the  greatest  depend- 
ence on  his  reports,  often  shaping  their  policy 
regarding  the  most  important  matters  in  accordance 
with  them.  **  Your  telegrams,"  wrote  Mr.  Stanton 
to  him  on  June  5,  1863,  when  Mr.  Dana  was  report- 
ing from  Vicksburg,  '*  are  a  great  obligation,  and 
are  looked  for  with  deep  interest.  I  can  not  thank 
you  as  much  as  I  feel  for  the  service  you  are  now 
rendering."  The  following  passage  from  a  letter 
written  recently  to  the  editor  of  the  Magazine  by 
General  James  H.  Wilson,  Mr.  Dana's  intimate  friend 
during  and  since  the  war,  shows  how  close  Mr.  Dana's 
acquaintance  always  was  with  the  men  and  matters 
of  which  he  wrote  : 

44  It  was  my  good  fortune  to  serve  with  the  armies 
Mr.  Dana  visited  as  special  commissioner.  We 
told  him  the  worst,  but  the  whole  truth,  of  everybody 
and  everything  that  could  be  found  out,  and  then 
showed  him  the  strength  and  the  virtue  of  Grant,  and 
the  vital  importance  of  strengthening  his  hands  and 


of  supporting  and  assisting  him  in  the  great  work  he 
had  undertaken.  We  rode  thousands  of  miles  to- 
gether. In  his  own  field  of  work  during  the  great 
rebellion  he  rendered  the  most  valuable  service  to 
the  government,  and  especially  to  the  meritorious 
generals  of  the  army.  His  services  to  Grant  were, 
in  my  judgment,  decisive  as  to  his  career,  inasmuch 
as  they  secured  for  him  the  unhesitating  support  of 
the  Secretary  of  War  and  the  President  at  a  time 
when,  if  it  had  gone  against  him,  his  career  must 
have  ended.  He  was  not  merely  a  commissioner  to 
headquarters,  but  was  willing  at  every  cost  and  every 
risk,  whether  of  death  in  battle  or  capture  by  the 
enemy,  to  go  with  me  to  see  and  learn  for  himself. 
No  government  was  ever  more  ably  or  gallantly 
represented  than  ours  was  by  Charles  A.  Dana,  and 
the  worthy  men  of  the  army  never  had  a  better  friend 
or  a  more  earnest  advocate  than  he  was.  Finally, 
he  enjoyed  the  absolute  respect  and  confidence  of 
every  surviving  officer  of  merit  who  came  in  contact 
with  him  in  the  days  of  the  rebellion. 

44  His  reminiscences  cannot  fail  to  be  a  most 
valuable  contribution  to  the  history  of  the  period  in 
which  he  played  such  an  important  part,  and  I  con- 
gratulate McClure's  Magazine  on  its  good  fortune 
in  obtaining  them." 

Colonel  A.  K.  McClure,  editor  of  the  Philadelphia 
44  Times,"  is  another  man  who  was  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Dana  and  his  work  during  the 
war.  We  received  from  him,  on  the  first  announce- 
ment of  Mr.  Dana's  papers,  the  following  note  : 

*'  I  am  delighted  to  notice  that  you  have  got  from 
Dana  some  chapters  on  his  connection  with  the  War 
Department  during  the  Civil  War.  He  is  the  one 
man  who  knows  most  about  the  inside  war  move- 
ments and  has  said  least  of  all  the  men  connected 
with  the  government,  and  I  have  many  times  urged 
him  to  write  his  recollections." 


A   MEMORIAL   EDITION   OF   THE   WORKS   OF   HENRY  GEORGE. 


The  friends  of  the  late  Henry  George  have  felt 
that  the  best  monument  that  could  be  raised  to  his 
memory  would  be  a  fine  and  dignified  edition  of  his 
works,  one  which  would  preserve  his  writings  in 
lasting  and  fitting  form.  Such  an  edition  has  now 
been  undertaken  by  Mr.  George's  publishers,  the 
Doubleday  and  McClure  Co.,  in  cooperation  with  Mrs. 
George.  Besides  the  books  already  published  and 
44  The  Science  of  Political  Economy  "  (the  last  work 


written  by  Mr.  George),  the  edition  will  include  a 
volume  of  hitherto  uncollected  miscellaneous  writings 
and  the  authorized  biography,  the  latter  to  be  written 
by  Mr.  George's  son,  Mr.  Henry  George,  Jr.  There 
will  be  ten  volumes  in  all  (printed  by  the  DeVinne 
Press),  with  several  photogravure  portraits,  etc., 
including  a  fine  reproduction  of  the  bust  by  Richard 
F.  George.  Only  1,000  sets  will  be  issued,  each  one 
numbered. 


•THE   POET    NANSEN." 


A  recent  article  in  the*  Chicago  44  Inter-Ocean  " 
bearing  the  above  title  says :  * 4  Certain  words  and 
phrases  will  cling  tenaciously  in  the  memory  of 
thousands  who  have  heard  Dr.  Nansen  recount  the 
thrilling  story  of  his  expedition  as  evidence  of  the 
poetic  strain  in  the  hardy  scientific  explorer. 

44  The  inspiring  ring  with  which  he  pronounced 
4  Forward  '  as  the  English  translation  of  the  name 
of  his  ship  gave  an  uplift  to  his  auditors.  Then, 
when  the  company  feared  lest  the  ice  pressure  would 


crush  the  good  ship's  sides  and  so  slept  upon  the  ice, 
there  was  a  wealth  of  suggestion  in  the  simple  state- 
ment :  4  But  the  ship  was  stronger  than  our  faith  in 
her.'  No  picture  of  the  solemn  white  stillness  of 
the  North  could  be  more  vivid  than  the  words, 4  The 
peace  of  a  thousand  years  rests  there.' 

44  A  climax  to  the  stirring  story  was  the  motto,  fit 
for  all  humanity,  or  to  be  graven  in  stone  at  the  base 
of  a  statue  to  the  son  of  the  vikings  :  *  To  struggle 
and  seek,  to  find,  and  never  to  yield.'" 


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HENRY  GEORGE'S  LAST  BOOK- 


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-r  t-    - 


/.    *  r.'t  n    .1.*    ■■.."   .  ,  '•"'»   j.    ..  ..-  w.*    /'' 7"  f     '«■;.'.' 


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HENRY   GEORGE'S   LAST   BOOK. 


By  Hamlin  Garland. 


IT  is  unfortunate  that  the  necessary  title 
of  this  last  great  book  by  a  great 
teacher  of  justice  and  humanity  in  the 
world  should  sound  so  like  the  names  of 
the  books  which  it  will  supersede.  "  The 
Science  of  Political  Economy"  is  not  a 
taking  title;  but  let  no  one  mistake.  As 
"Progress  and  Poverty"  delighted  men 
with  its  clearness,  eloquence,  and  lofty 
spirit,  so  will  this  final  work  affect  its 
readers. 

It  has  great  elements.  It  is,  first  of 
all,  a  profoundly  religious  book — religious 
in  the  broadest  and  purest  sense,  and  the 
first  part  is  taken  up  with  a  discussion  of 
man  in  the  universe,  of  civilization,  its 
cause  and  what  it  should  be.  This  sec- 
tion has  the  noblest  quality.  The  second 
element  of  greatness  in  the  work  is  its 
fearlessness.  It  shows  no  evasions. 
Nothing  is  miscalled  out  of  respect  to 
conventions.  It  is  forthright,  searching, 
and  utterly  candid.  If  all  the  world  loves 
a  fight,  here  is  the  basis  of  a  keen  contro- 
versy. Mr.  George  levels  his  lance  at 
every  confident  economist,  but  is  never  ill- 
humored,  and  his  opponents  will  do  well  if 
they  emulate  him  in  the  manner  of  his  joust. 

A  third  element  of  strength  lies  in  the 
perfect  clarity  of  his  statement.  He 
pierces  quite  to  the  fundamental  simplicity 
of  things.  Having  no  master  to  serve 
and  only  the  true  God  to  worship,  he 
finds  the  world  less  complicate  than  certain 
professors  of  political  economy  who  are 
component  parts  of  some  institution  held 
it  to  be.  He  points  out,  kindly,  how  a 
man  is  too  often  warped  in  his  judgment 
by  surroundings;  how,  indeed,  the  whole 
"science"  of  social  economics  has  been 
rendered  false  or  evasive  at  the  most 
vital  points  by  the  pressure  of  institution- 
alism.  A  science  of  political  economy 
was  not  possible  so  long  as  writers  apolo- 
gized for  human  slavery  ;  so  now  it  is  im- 
possible so  long  as  the  injustice  of  pri- 
vate ownership  of  public  values  is  ignored 
or  openly  condoned. 

It  is  a  great  book  by  reason  also  of  its 
research.  It  shows  the  most  conscientious 
and  catholic  reading.  Mr.  George  pored 
faithfully  over  the  huge  tomes  of  most 
evasive  and  apologetic  "masters."  He 
sets  their  confused  and  confusing  terms 
over  against  each  other,  and  if  he  smiles 
at  the  end,  we  can  hardly  help  smiling 
386 


with  him.  If  schoolmen  cannot  agree  on 
the  three  words,  wealth,  capital,  and  value, 
how  shall  they  agree  on  theories  ?  No 
wonder  the  world  wanders  darkling  while 
its  leaders  grope. 

Henry  George  is  the  natural  reasoner. 
He  starts  with  the  world  of  natural  things 
and  man.  He  moves  from  the  simple  to 
the  complex,  naturally.  He  appeals  to 
the  common  sense  of  his  readers.  He  is 
not  engaged  in  showing  his  learning,  his 
orthodoxy;  he  is  seeking  the  simple  solu- 
tion which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  prob- 
lem. He  wishes  to  enlighten,  to  con- 
vince, to  do  justice,  and  so  a  mighty 
power  goes  out  from  his  writings.  His 
aim  is  truth;  his  standard,  justice.  The 
ranked  power  of  the  world  could  not 
daunt  him  when  he  walked  the  earth,  and 
all  the  powers  visible  and  invisible  cannot 
prevail  against  the  spirit  of  his  message 
of  light. 

The  book  is  less  of  a  fragment  than 
has  been  supposed.  Taken  in  connec- 
tion with  "Progress  and  Poverty,"  the 
omissions  will  scarcely  be  observable  to 
the  reader.  It  is  a  noble  book.  As  I 
read  it  I  seem  to  hear  his  voice  once  more 
and  see  his  face  glow  and  lighten  as  in 
the  days  when  his  presence  on  the  plat- 
form was  a  menace  to  every  wrong,  a  ter- 
ror to  every  tyranny,  and  the  hope  of 
every  robbed  and  cheated  man  who  faced 
him.  He  made  the  world  better.  He 
fought  unremittingly  till  his  slight  mate- 
rial self  gave  way.  Now  here  are  his 
books — including  the  last  and  greatest  of 
them  all.  They  and  the  men  he  inspired 
must  carry  forward  his  work. 

44  If  political  economy  is  a  science — and  if  not,  it  is 
hardly  worth  the  while  of  earnest  men  to  bother 
themselves  with  it — it  must  follow  the  rules  of  science, 
and  seek  in  natural  law  the  causes  of  the  phenomena 
which  it  investigates.  It  is  concerned  with  the 
permanent,  not  the  transient ;  with  the  laws  of  nature, 
not  with  the  laws  of  man." 

•'  Injustice  cannot  live  where  justice  rules.  If 
there  can  be  no  poor  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
clearly  there  can  be  no  rich." 

*  *  And  so  it  is  utterly  impossible  in  this  or  in  any 
other  conceivable  world  to  abolish  unjust  poverty, 
without  at  the  same  time  abolishing  unjust  posses- 
sions. This  is  a  hard  word  to  those  who  would  like 
to  get  on  the  good  side  of  God  without  angering  the 
devil,  but  it  is  a  true  word  nevertheless." 

Injustice  will  find  a  most  formidable 
force  in  Henry  George's  "  Science  of  Po- 
litical Economy." 

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-... ■■■«■:»■-, 


;  V«i:i  /lay  r-J  Sure 


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Drawn  by  Charles  Dana  Gibson. 


w  Diving  into  bis  pocket,  I  got  the  letter."    See  page  458. 

"RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU,"  CHAPTER  IX. 


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McClure's  Magazine. 


Vol.  X. 


MARCH,  1898. 


No.  5. 


[THE  GENERAL  MANAGER'S  STORY.} 

ADVENTURES    OF    A    FREIGHT    ENGINEER. 

A  NARRATIVE  OF  PERSONAL  EXPERIENCE. 

By  Herbert  E.  Hamblen  ("Fred.  B.  Williams"),  Author  of  "On  Many  Seas." 

WEARING   OUT   A   NEW   ENGINE    IN    ONE   TRIP.— A    MIRACULOUS    RUN    DOWN   A 
MOUNTAIN.— FIFTY-TWO    HOURS   ON   THE    ROAD   WITHOUT    REST. 

Illustrated  with  Drawings  from  Life  by  W.  D.  Stevens. 


WE  had  been  having  very  poor  coal ; 
nearly  all  trains  were  losing  some 
time,  and  the  master  mechanic  had  fire- 
men ••  on  the  carpet  "  daily,  jacking  them 
up  for  a  week  or  ten  days,  on  account  of 
their  inability  to  make  steam  with  mate- 
rial which,  however  suitable  for  roadbed 
ballast,  was  never  intended  by  the  Al- 
mighty for  fuel.  Owing  to  the  expert 
skill  of  my  engineer,  I  had  not  yet  been 
put  through  that  ordeal;  we  had  managed 
to  crawl  in  on  time  every  day.  But  it  was 
all  we  could  do;  an  extra  car  or  a  hard- 
hauling  train  would  surely  have  dumped 
us.  Finally  we  made  our  first  break,  and 
it  was  a  bad  one.  I  couldn't  keep  her 
hot  to  save  my  soul.  Jack  favored  her, 
and  helped  me  all  he  could,  but  it  was  no 
use;  she  would  lag  in  spite  of  all  that  I 
could  do.  I  was  ashamed  and  mad  clean 
through,  for  we  dropped  twenty  minutes. 

Twenty  minutes  on  the  limited,  and 
every  minute  of  it  for  the  want  of  steam! 
I  foresaw  a  very  interesting  interview  with 
the  master  mechanic  when  I  should  get 
back;  my  pride  was  hurt.  I  had  been  the 
only  fireman  so  far  who  had  not  "  dropped 
his  bundle,"  and  now  I  had  done  worse 
than  any  of  them.  I  feared  that  I  should 
be  taken  off  the  train  altogether;  sus- 
pended I  knew  I  should  be,  possibly  for 
thirty  days.  So  it  was  with  a  heavy 
heart  that  I  fired  the  old  engine  back,  for 


I  knew  that  excuses,  however  valid,  didn't 
go  with  the  "  old  man,"  his  invariable  re- 
ply to  all  such  being,  "That  don't  make 
any  difference."  I  believe  he  would  have 
said  that  if  you  had  told  him  that  the 
reason  you  didn't  make  time  was  because 
you  lost  all  the  wheels  off  the  engine,  and 
the  way  he  said  it  was  extremely  aggra- 
vating; for  he  was  boss,  and  it  would  do 
no  good  to  talk  back. 

When  we  got  to  the  round-house,  my 
heart  sank  as  I  saw  the  foreman  approach- 
ing me,  looking  grave,  as  though  he  didn't 
half  like  the  errand  he  was  on;  for  I  had 
always  been  rather  a  favorite  with  him, 
and  an  example  to  be  held  up  to  the  other 
firemen. 

"  The  old  man  wants  to  see  you  in  the 
office,"  said  he. 

"  All  right." 

He  was  standing  with  his  back  to  me, 
looking  out  the  window,  when  I  entered, 
but  turned  at  once,  and  said: 

"Well,  sir?" 

I  told  him  I  had  been  ordered  to  report 
to  him. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  he;  "freight  is  pick- 
ing up  now,  and  since  Mr.  Kimball's  death 
we  are  rather  short-handed;  do  you  think 
you  can  run  an  engine  ? " 

Heavens  and  earth,  promotion!  This 
was  an  agreeable  surprise,  with  a  ven- 
geance.    I  knew  the  stereotyped  question, 


Copyright,  1898,  by  the  S.  S.  McClure  Co.    All  rights  reserved. 

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39° 


AN  ORDEAL    WITH  THE   TRAIN-MASTER. 


"  Do  you  think  you  can  run  an  engine  ? " 
I  had  heard  so  many  of  the,  boys  tell  of  it 
as  part  of  their  experience  when  they  were 
promoted,  and  I  knew,  too,  the  stereo- 
typed answer:  "I  dunno,  sir;  I  never 
tried."  I  had  always  promised  myself 
that  when  it  came  my  turn  to  answer  the 
all-important  question  I  wouldn't  say  that 
anyhow;  so  after  catching  my  breath  a 
bit,  I  answered  as  bold  as  brass,  "Yes, 
sir." 

"Yes,  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  can; 
I've  had  my  eye  on  you  ever  since  you 
came  here,  and  with  one  or  two  exceptions 
your  conduct  has  been  very  satisfactory." 

AN    EXAMINATION     FOR     THE     POSITION     OF 
ENGINEER. 

He  then  proceeded  to  examine  me  on 
the  locomotive:  as  to  how  it  was  con- 
structed, and  what  I  would  do  in  various 
emergencies,  the  idea  being  to  show  how 
in  case  of  a  breakdown  I  would  tempora- 
rily repair  my  engine,  so  as  to  get  the 
train  home  with  as  little  delay  to  the 
traffic  of  the  road  as  possible;  and  al- 
though he  suggested  several  mishaps  the 
like  of  which  I  had  never  heard  discussed 
before,  I  kept  my  wits  about  me,  and  sat- 
isfied him  that  I  was  to  be  trusted.  He 
gave  me  some  advice  concerning  my  de- 
portment towards  the  employees  in  the 
other  departments  of  the  service,  assured 
me  that  as  long  as  I  was  right  he  would 
stand  by  me, — which  I  am  afraid  made 
me  open  my  eyes  rather  wide,  for  no- 
body ever  heard  of  him  standing  by  his 
men, — and  then  handing  me  a  note  to  the 
train-master,  told  me  to  go  and  pass  his 
examination  and  hurry  back.  "For," 
said  he,  "I  shall  want  you  to  go  out  to- 
night." 

The  train-master  tangled  me  up  a  little 
once  or  twice  with  his  conundrums,  and  I 
feared  I  wasn't  making  a  very  good  show- 
ing. He  asked,  for  one  question,  what  I 
would  do  if,  when  running  a  first-class 
train  on  a  single-track  branch,  I  had  or- 
ders to  meet  and  pass  another  first-class 
train  at  the  junction  of  the  double-track 
main  line,  and  on  arriving  there,  found 
that  she  had  not  yet  arrived. 

I  answered  that  I  would  wait  until  she 
did. 

"  Suppose  she  was  an  hour  late  ?  " 

"  That's  none  of  my  business." 

"What!  would  you  hold  those  passen- 
gers there  an  hour  with  a  double  track 
ahead  of  you  ?  " 

I  wasn't  quite  sure,  but  answered  des- 


perately, "Certainly,  if  I  had  orders  to 
wait  there." 

He  brought  down  his  fist  with  a  bang 
on  the  table,  and  roared  out,  "That's 
right;  I  want  you  always  to  remember  that 
when  an  order  is  given  to  you,  it's  good 
until  fulfilled,  and  is  to  be  obeyed.  I'll 
run  the  trains  from  here — that's  what  I'm 
hired  for;  I  won't  have  conductors  and 
engineers  running  trains. 

"  Now  suppose  you  was  running  a  first- 
class  train,  and  you  got  a  regardless  order 
to  run  the  opposite  track  to  the  next 
station,  what  would  you  do  when  you  got 
there?" 

"  Cross  back  again,  and  proceed  on  my 
rights." 

"What  rights?" 

"  My  time-table  rights." 

"Good  agin!  Some  o'  these  fellers 
would  wait  there  twenty-four  hours  for  an 
order  to  put  'em  on  the  time-table." 

He  kept  this  kind  of  thing  up  for  a  good 
hour,  sometimes  puzzling  me  consider- 
ably, but,  on  the  whole,  I  didn't  make  any 
very  bad  breaks.  At  last,  looking  at  his 
watch,  he  said,  "  It's  dinner  time.  You 
can  tell  Mr.  Seely  that  I'm  satisfied." 

At  last!  I  had  reached  the  goal  for 
which  I  had  toiled  so  long  and  so  hard; 
and  when  I  went  back,  reported  to  Mr. 
Seely,  and  got  orders  to  take  engine  80  at 
nine  p.m.,  I  was  the  proudest  and  happiest 
young  fellow  in  the  State. 

STOP      WHEN      FLAGGED,     WHATEVER     HAP- 
PENS. 

It  was  the  first  winter  after  I  was  pro- 
moted ;  there  had  been  a  heavy  fall  of  snow, 
and  I  was  ordered  to  couple  in  ahead  of 
a  west-bound  passenger  train,  to  help  the 
regular  engine  drag  her  through  the  big 
drifts.  I  had  a  brand-new  engine,  right 
out  of  the  shop.  It  is  desired  that  a 
locomotive's  driving-wheel  tires  shall  make 
if  possible  a  hundred  thousand  miles  before 
they  are  worn  out.  They  become  grooved 
by  the  wear  on  the  rails,  requiring  to  be 
turned  off  in  the  lathe  twice,  and  occa- 
sionally three  times.  As  this  turning-off 
process  is  equivalent  to  many  miles  of 
legitimate  wear,  it  is  to  be  avoided  as  long 
as  possible,  and  as  there  is  always  rivalry 
between  the  division  master  mechanics,  the 
engineer  who  reduces  the  life  of  a  set  of 
tires  is  not  to  be  envied.  The  division 
superintendent  had  the  snow-plow  out,  and 
as  it  was  working  on  our  track,  we  got  an 
order  to  run  on  the  east-bound  track  to 
the  next  station,  regardless  of  all  opposing 

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PLAYING  HAVOC   WITH  NEW  TIRES.  39* 

trains,  which  means  that  the  track  was  clear  As  I  could  see  nothing,  I  shut  off,  blew 
for  us.  The  snow-plow  crew  had  a  flag  brakes  to  the  other  engineer,  applied  my 
out  to  protect  themselves.  The  flagman  own,  and  then,  as  he  had  not  heard  me, 
heard  me  blow  for  a  road  crossing,  and  as  and  was  still  using  steam,  shoving  me  in- 
to I  knew  not  what,  I 
whistled  to  him  again,  re- 
versed, and  gave  her 
sand,  he  still  shoving  me 
ahead  as  hard  as  he  could. 
My  driver-brake  being 
set  and  engine  reversed, 
the  big  wheels  were  held 
stationary  as  in  a  vise, 
while  she. skated,  grating 
and  grinding  along  on  the 
sanded  rails.  I  knew  I 
was  playing  havoc  with 
those  new  tires;  but  what 
could  I  do  ?  I  expected 
every  instant  to  have  the 
end  of  a  car  come  smash- 
ing into  my  cab.  Again 
and  again  I  blew  the  brake 
signal;  the  grade  was  in 
our  favor,  so  that  my 
partner  was  able  to  keep 
them  going  in  spite  of  me, 
and  he  shoved  the  whole 
business  clear  by  the 
snow-plow.  Her  crew, 
hearing  my  signals  and 
seeing  my  wheels  locked, 
managed  to  attract  his 
attention,  and  at  last  we 
got  stopped. 

The  superintendent 
climbed  into  my  cab,  and 
asked  me  if  that  fellow 
flagged  me.  I  told  him 
he  did,  and  explained  the 
whole  affair.  He  under- 
stood, and  said,  "All 
right  ;  there's  no  harm 
done.      Go  on."      But  I 

"WE   POUND   GROOVES  NEARLY   A   QUARTER   OP  AN    INCH   DBBP      ...      IN  THEM."  tOlQ    him      1    DelieVCU    tlierC 

had  been  a  good  deal  of 

all  the  landmarks  were  obliterated  by  snow,  harm    done,    and    explained   what    I    had 

he  was  unable  to  say  on  which  track  we  done. 

were  coming,  so,  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  he  "  Blow  off  brakes  and  turn  her  over," 

flagged  us  anyway.    The  snow  not  being  so  said  he,  "  and  let's  see  how  she  goes." 

very  deep  here,  we  were  coming  at  a  pretty  I  did  so,  and  you  would  have  sworn  that 

good  gait,  and  when  he  saw  that  the  en-  she  had  square  wheels.    When  she  came  to 

gines  continued  to  use  steam,  he  realized  the  "flat  spots"   she    seemed  to  drop  a 

that  the  blinding  snow  made  his  signal  in-  foot  and  come  down  on  the  rails  like  a 

visible  to  the  engineer,  and  jumped  to  the  house  falling  over;    and    then,  when  she 

other  side  of   the  track,   waving  his  flag  went  over    them,  she   would  raise  herself 

frantically,  and  yelling  at  the  top  of  his  bodily  again  as  she  came  up  on  to  the  round 

voice.     My  fireman   happening  just  then  surface. 

to  glance  ahead,  saw  his  gymnastics,  and  "  Stop,"  said  the  superintendent,  "and 

judging  that  collision  must   be  imminent,  let's  get  down  and  look  at  these  tires." 

yelled  "Whoa!"  and  jumped  off.  We  found  grooves  nearly  a  quarter  of 


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392 


UPHELD  BY  THE  SUPERINTENDENT. 


(\VHEN  wb  came  pounding  and   banging   into  the  yard  at  ten  o  clock  the  next  day,  a  reception   committee 

.      .      .      WAS  AWAITING  OUR   ARRIVAL." 


an  inch  deep  and  six  or  seven  inches  long 
in  them.  After  a  little  consultation  the 
superintendent  ordered  us  to  go  on  slowly 
to  a  junction  ten  miles  ahead,  where  an- 
other engine  could  be  procured  to  help  the 
train,  while  I  should  ask  for  orders  to 
dead-head  home. 

"  And  don't  you  run  this  train  over  six 
miles  an  hour,"  said  he,  "or  you'll  break 
all  the  rails  and  knock  down  all  the  bridges 
between  here  and  M ." 

I  ventured  to  remark  that  I  supposed  I 
was  done. 

"  What  for  ?  "  said  he,  looking  at  me  in 
evident  surprise. 

44  For  gouging  those  new  tires,"  said  I. 

"  No,  sir;  you're  not  done  for  that. 
You  got  a  flag,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  let  me  teil  you  one  thing. 
While  I'm  superintendent  of  this  division, 


if  you  ever  fail  to  use  every  means  in  your 
power  to  stop  when  you  are  flagged,  I'll 
discharge  you.  These  engines  are  to  be 
used  in  two  ways — to  haul  the  trains,  and 
to  help  stop  them  when  necessary.  I 
wouldn't  care  if  you'd  tied  a  hard  knot  in 
her,  as  long  as  it  was  done  in  an  effort  to 
stop  when  flagged.  Go  on  now,  an'  get 
out  o'  here." 

A    ROUGH  RIDE    TO  AN  UNJUST  DISCHARGE. 

My  fireman  having  returned,  we  started 
again,  and  of  all  the  tough  riding  I  ever 
did,  the  worst  was  done  on  that  engine 
before  I  got  her  back  to  the  yard.  I  used 
all  the  spare  nuts  and  bolts  that  we  had 
on  both  engines,  replacing  what  she  shook 

out  and  broke  off  before  we  got  to  M . 

Then  I  gathered  up  all  I  could  find  in  the 
round-house,  and  the  fireman  and  I  got 

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POUNDING    THE  ENGINE    TO  PIECES,  393 

under  her  and  riveted  all  the  bolts  down  back   of  the  tender.        The  whistle   pips 

so  the  nuts  couldn't  get  off;  and  having  broke  short  off  in  the  dome,  and  before  I 

received   orders    to    return    "wild,"    we  got   the  hole   plugged    with    a    piece  of 

started.     It  was  only  thirty  miles,  but  it  broomstick,    she    had    blown    her   steam 

was  the  longest  and  worst  ride  by  all  odds  down  to  thirty  pounds;  and  as  the  injector 

that  I  ever  experienced;  and  I  don't  be-  would  only  work    when  standing  still,  I 


be- 

ilot 

tnd 

ost 

ive 

ery 

der 

t  I 

feared  she  would  shake  all  the  coal  out 

Heve  there  are  a  dozen  railroad  men  in  the   of  the  gangways  before  we  got  home,  for 

country  that  ever  went  through  a  similar    the  fireman  was  about  as  badly  used  up  as 

experience — the    antics   that    she   cut   up    I  was,  and  hadn't  ambition  enough  to  try 

when  coupled  to  the  train  were  not  a  mark    to  keep  it  back. 

to  her  actions  now.  We   were   all   night   on   the   road,    and 

We  tied  the  bell  fast  "on  the  center."  when  we  came  pounding  and  banging 
Before  we  had  gone  a  mile,  the  sand-box  into  the  yard  at  ten  o'clock  the  next 
cover  left  us  somewhere,  and  before  we  day,  a  reception  committee,  composed 
had  covered  half  the  distance,  the  stack  of  the  master  mechanic  and  every  man 
and  head-lamp  were  both  tied  fast  on  the    in   the  department  under  him  who  could 


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394 


DESERTED  BY  THE  SUPERINTENDENT 


possibly  get  there,  was  awaiting  our  ar- 
rival. 

Within  ten  feet  of  where  I  intended 
to  stop,  the  coupling-pin  of  the  tender 
broke,  and  on  her  next  leap  ahead  she 
tore  loose  from  safety-chains  and  feed- 
hoses,  leaving  it  behind.  I  got  down  the 
best  way  I  could;  for  besides  being  killed, 
I  was  starved  to  death;  and  telling  the 
round-house  foreman  he  had  better  get  the 
fire  out  of  her,  as  the  water  was  rather 
low  in  the  boiler,  I  started  to  look  her 
over,  but  seeing  a  broken  equalizer,  and 
immediately  afterwards  a  break  in  the 
frame,  I  gave  it  up,  and  simply  wrote  on 
the  slip,  "  Engine  207  wants  to  go  in  the 
back  shop,"  filed  my  report,  and  went 
home.  I  stayed  home  two  days,  recuper- 
ating,, and  when  I  returned,  I  found  an 
order  in  the  engineer's  box  for  me  to  call 
at  the  office  and  get  my  time. 

I  met  the  master  mechanic  coming  out 
as  I  was  going  in.  He  didn't  even  look 
at  me,  but  I  called  him  by  name,  and 
asked  why  I  was  discharged.  He  stopped, 
looked  at  me  a  moment  in  superlative 
contempt,  and  said: 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  I  don't  see 
how  this  company  can  afford  to  dispense 
with  the  services  of  such  a  valuable  man 
as  you  are." 

I  said  no  more  to  him,  but  went  at  once 
to  the  superintendent's  office.  Fortu- 
nately, I  found  him  in,  and,  for  a  wonder, 
unoccupied.  When  I  presented  myself,  he 
looked  up  inquiringly,  and  without  a  word 
I  laid  the  bill  of  my  time  on  his  desk.  He 
looked  at  it,  and  said,  "Well,  what's 
wrong  with  this  ?  Isn't  your  account  all 
right?" 

"  Oho!  M  thought  I,  "he  sings  a  differ- 
ent tune  from  what  he  did  the  other  day." 
So  I  reminded  him  that  he  had  promised 
me  that  I  should  not  be  discharged  for 
what  I  had  done. 

"  I  don't  know  that  you  are  discharged 
for  that,"  said  he,  coldly,  as  he  handed 
me  back  my  bill;  "  what  did  Mr.  Seely  say 
he  discharged  you  for  ?  " 

I  told  him  the  answer  Mr.  -Seely  had 
made  to  my  request  for  information,  and 
he  promised  to  inquire  into  it,  saying  that 
he  would  be  as  good  as  his  word  and  that 
I  should  not  be  discharged  on  that  ac- 
count. I  asked  him  when  I  might  expect 
to  hear  from  him,  and  he  said  he  couldn't 
tell,  was  very  busy  just  now,  but  as  soon 
as  he  had  time. 

I  waited  in  suspense  three  weeks,  and 
as  it  would  soon  be  pay-day,  I  thought  I 
had  better  find  out  if  I  was  to  sign  the 


pay-roll  for  the  Jast  time  or  not.     So  again 
I  called  on  the  gentleman,   and   he  told 


14 1   SAW   AHEAD   OF   ME   A    MAN    IN   THE   MIDDLE  OF  THE  TRACK, 
LANGUIDLY   WAVING   A   RED    FLAG." 

me,  with  a  surprised  look,  that  he  had 
sanctioned  my  discharge  ten  days  ago. 
He  said  the  master  mechanic  reported  that 
I  brought  the  engine  in  a  total  wreck  and 


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HARD  KNOCKS  FOR    THE  FREIGHT  ENGINEER. 


395 


absented  myself  two  days  without  leave, 
all  of  which  I  was  obliged  to  admit;  and 
as  he  considered  that  sufficient,  I  was  gra- 
ciously allowed  to  depart,  with  my  hopes 
and  aspirations  suffering  from  a  severe 
frost. 

MERCY    FROM    THE    GENERAL    MANAGER. 

As  I  was  walking  down  the  office  stairs, 
I  contrasted  the  superintendent's  and 
master  mechanic's  manners  with  those  of 
the  general  manager.  I  remembered  that 
he  had  said  to  us,  "  Employees  shall  cer- 
tainly have  the  right  of  appeal."  I  had 
appealed  to  him  once,  and  got  justice; 
why  not  try  it  "again  ?  As  before,  I  had 
all  to  gain,  and  nothing  to  lose,  and  I 
would  do  it.  I  went  to  his  office  at  once, 
and  learned  that  he  was  out  of  town.  But 
ten  days  later  I  called  again.  He  greeted 
me  with  extended  hand,  and  a  hearty  "  Ah ! 

good  morning,  Mr.  M .    Fine  morning; 

what  can  I  do  for  you  ? " 

I  told  him  as  rapidly  and  clearly  as  I 
could  the  whole  story.  He  listened  care- 
fully without  once  interrupting,  and  when 
I  had  finished,  he  asked  me  what  I  wanted 
him  to  do.  I  was  rather  nonplussed  at 
that,  for  I  had  hoped  he  would  offer  to  do 
something  himself;  so  I  answered,  some- 
what sheepishly,  that  I  didn't  think  I 
ought  to  be  discharged,  as  I  didn't  con- 
sider myself  to  blame  for  what  had  hap- 
pened. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  from  your  standpoint 
you  certainly  are  not;  but  I  suppose  you 
know  the  old  saying  that  one  story  is 
good  until  another  is  told.  Not  that  I 
doubt  your  statement  for  a  moment;  but 
you  know  your  conception  of  the  affair  is 
apt  to  be  colored  by  your  interest.  It  cer- 
tainly is  a  very  serious  matter  for  an  en- 
gineer to  take  out  a  brand-new  engine  and 
bring  her  back  wrecked;  still,  it  is  quite 
within  the  bounds  of  possibility  that  you 
are  not  altogether  to  blame.  I  will  look 
over  the  master  mechanic's  and  superin- 
tendent's reports;  and  if  I  find  that  they 
do  not  conflict  materially  with  your  story, 
you  will  hear  from  me,  probably  through 
one  or  the  other  of  them.  Will  that  be 
satisfactory  ?" 

Considering  that  it  was  all  I  had  hoped 
to  accomplish,  I  told  him  that  it  would 
indeed;  bade  him  good-by,  and  withdrew, 
hope  once  more  springing  in  my  breast. 

Two  days  later,  on  returning  to  the 
boarding-house  for  dinner,  I  was  informed 
that  the  caller  had  left  word  that  the  mas- 
ter mechanic  wished  to  see  me  in  his  office; 


so  down  I  went,  wondering  what  the  ver- 
dict would  be. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  he  when  I  entered, 
"  have  you  got  rested  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  manage  now  to 
double  the  division  with  one  engine  ?  " 

"Well,  yes,  sir,  except  under  very  ex- 
traordinary circumstances." 

"  Better  not  have  any  more  extraordi- 
nary circumstances  for  a  while;  they  don't 
pay.  I  don't  believe  you  are  any  richer 
for  the  last  one,  and  I  know  the  company 
isn't.  And  now  a  word  of  advice:  when 
you  get  in  a  tight  place  and  have  an  en- 
gine with  a  power  brake,  don't  reverse 
after  setting  your  brake;  or  if  you  think 
she  will  hold  more  with  the  lever  than  with 
the  brake,  reverse  her,  and  release  your 
brake.  When  you  have  done  either,  you 
have  done  all  that  you  can  do,  and  sliding 
the  wheels  don't  do  any  good,  but  just  the 
reverse." 

Being  in  the  freight  service,  I  got  into 
those  tight  places,  and  experienced  those 
hair-raising  accidents,  which  are  the  par- 
ticular property  of  freight  crews.  For 
the  passenger  trains  run  on  schedule  time; 
the  road  is  theirs  on  their  time;  their  en- 
gines and  cars  receive  the  most  careful 
attention;  station  agents,  switchmen,  tele- 
graph operators,  track-gangs,  and  watch- 
men, and,  in  fact,  all  employees  know 
when  they  are  due,  and  look  out  for  them 
— for  to  delay  a  passenger  train  for  any 
cause  is  a  serious  offense;  and  then,  too, 
the  superintendent  is  apt  to  be  riding  on 
any  train,  and  each  and  every  employee, 
no  matter  how  lowly  his  position,  firmly 
believes  that  the  "  super"  cannot  possibly 
ride  over  the  road  without  seeing  him  and 
noting  just  how  he  is  performing  his  du- 
ties; so  that  the  passenger  trains  are  well 
looked  out  for,  and  it  is  very  seldom  that 
anything  happens  to  them. 

But  the  poor  fellows  on  freight, — they 
are  the  ones  that  get  all  the  hard  knocks. 
Obliged  to  pick  their  way  over  the  road 
between  trains,  they  have  no  rights  at  all; 
they  must  get  to  their  destination  as  soon 
as  possible,  or  there  is  trouble;  but  they 
must  not  exceed  the  regular  schedule  of 
freight-train  speed,  no  matter  how  good  a 
chance  they  may  have  to  do  so ;  they  must 
not  run  by  slow  signals  faster  than  the 
rules  allow,  nor  through  yards,  nor  go  by 
a  passenger  train  at  a  station,  even  on  the 
tf^side;  and,  over  and  above  all  things, 
they  must  never  get  themselves,  or  allow 
themselves  to  be  put,  in  si*ch  a  position 
that   they  will    have  to  flag  a  passenger 

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39^ 


A  RACE   THAT  BROKE  ALL  RECORDS. 


train  even  for  an  instant.  Track  repair 
men  and  drawbridge  tenders  all  commence 
to  work  as  soon  as  the  passenger  train  has 
gone,  when  along  comes  a  poor  fellow  on 
a  freight  who  has  been  twenty-four  hours 
on  the  road  and  is  trying  to  get  home. 
He  has  barely  time  enough  to  get  to  the 
next  siding  to  clear  the  following  passen- 
ger train,  and  here's  a  red  flag. 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"Section  foreman's  got  a  rail  up,"  or 
"  Drawbridge  is  open,"  or  "  Construction 
train  is  plowing  off  a  load  of  gravel," 
or,  in  fact,  anything.  Consequently  the 
freight,  being  unable  to  go,  delays  the 
passenger,  the  freight  engineer  is  called  to 
the  super's  office,  all  his  explanations  go 
for  naught,  and  he  is  lucky  if  he  gets  off 
with  a  jawing  and  being  told  that  he  had 
no  business  there  right  ahead  of  a  first- 
class  train.  And  these  are  by  no  means 
a  hundredth  part  of  the  little  pleasant- 
nesses that  tend  to  turn  a  man's  hair  gray 
and  make  him  wish  he  had  been  born  a 
king. 


BROKE     IN 


TWO  ON 

SIDE. 


A     MOUNTAIN 


There  was  on  our  division  a  mountain, 
and  the  track  down  this  mountain  was 
about  seven  miles  long,  and  at  the  top  was 
a  tunnel  half  a  mile  long,  opening  out  on 
the  down-hill  side  on  a  short  curve,  handy 
to  look  back  on  and  see  if  your  train  was 
all  together.  The  road  down  the  moun- 
tain was  quite  crooked,  as  such  places 
always  are,  and  so  steep  that  to  take  a 
train  up  its  entire  length  without  "doub- 
ling" was  a  feat  to  brag  about.  Half- 
way down,  and  hidden  by  a  curve  from 
both  directions,  were  a  station  on  one  side 
and  a  freight-house  on  the  other,  and 
nearly  all  inward-bound  trains  had  cars 
for  the  freight-house,  which  compelled 
them  to  cross  over  the  outward-bound 
track  to  get  to  the  freight-house  siding. 
The  switch  to  this  siding  was  a  "  head-on  " 
switch  to  the  outward  or  down-hill  track; 
and  as  that  place  came  under  the  "yard- 
limit  "  rule,  all  freight  trains  were  obliged 
to  come  in  there  dead  slow,  which  they 
did.  Consequently  conductors  had  be- 
come careless,  and  were  in  the  habit  of 
leaving  this  head-on  switch  open  after  they 
went  in,  so  as  to  be  handy  to  get  out 
again,  and  the  flagman  would  go  barely 
around  the  curve,  so  he  could  show  his 
flag  to  any  on-coming  train,  and  stop 
them  before  they  ran  through  the  open 
switch. 


On  the  day  of  which  I  speak,  I  had  a 
heavy  mixed  train,  among  them  being 
four  cars  of  railroad  iron  just  about  in 
the  middle,  and  when  my  engine  plunged 
into  the  tunnel  I  shut  her  off;  for  she 
would  roll  all  too  fast  after  that  and  need 
a  few  brakes  set.  It  was  early  on  a  sum- 
mer morning,  and  I  knew  the  crew  were 
apt  to  be  asleep  in  the  caboose,  so  I  called 
for  brakes  to  wake  them  up,  but  it  didn't 
have  the  desired  effect.  I  looked  back  as 
I  came  out  of  the  tunnel,  and  watched  the 
cars  following  each  other  out  until  about 
half  the  train  was  through;  then  there 
came  no  more.  I  pulled  out  at  once,  and 
blew  the  "  broke  in  two  "  signal  again  and 
again,  all  the  time  watching  back  for  the 
rear  end  of  my  train.  They  must  have 
parted  just  on  the  crest  of  the  mountain, 
and  the  rear  section  must  have  nearly 
stopped  before  it  pitched  over  and  con- 
cluded to  follow  us;  for  I  opened  out  a 
good  train  length,  and  began  to  think  that 
the  crew  must  have  got  their  end  stopped, 
when  they  shot  out  of  that  tunnel  like  a 
comet,  the  railroad  iron  in  the  lead.  Again 
I  pulled  out  for  dear  life,  and  blew  my 
signal — not  a  man  was  out  on  the  train, 
and  as  it  all  came  through,  the  caboose  (a 
little  four-wheeled  affair)  was  flirted  off 
the  track  by  the  whip-like  motion  of  the 
train  in  straightening  out,  and  flying 
through  the  air,  dropped  into  a  river  more 
than  five  hundred  feet  below.  Now  I  was 
in  a  tight  box,  not  a  liying  soul  to  set  a 
brake  on  those  cars;  for  the  entire  crew, 
head  brakeman  and  all,  went  down  to 
death  in  their  caboose. 

A    RIDE    NEVER    TO    BE    FORGOTTEN. 

I  shall  never  forget  that  wild  ride  down 
the  mountain  if  I  live  to  be  a  thousand 
years  old.  When  she  struck  a  reverse 
curve  about  two  miles  from  the  tunnel,  the 
fireman  was  thrown  clear  through  the  cab 
window,  and  literally  torn  limb  from  limb 
as  he  came  in  contact  with  the  ground.  I 
thought  she  had  left  the  track  altogether, 
for  she  rolled  almost  over,  hurling  me 
across  the  cab  and  back  again  as  she 
struck  the  reverse  end  of  the  curve,  and 
came  down  on  her  wheels  with  a  crash 
that  shivered  every  pane  of  glass  and 
loosened  every  bolt  and  joint  in  the  cab, 
until  it  was  like  an  old  basket,  and  rolled 
around  with  every  roll  of  the  engine — a 
new  source  of  danger  to  me,  for  if  it  left 
her,  it  must  surely  take  me  with  it. 

I  grabbed  the  whistle  cord  again  as  soon 
as   I    was  able  to  steady  myself  enough, 


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HANGING  ON  DESPERATELY. 


397 


AND  THEN    I   SWEPT   BY   LIKE   A   CYCLONE.      HE   HAD   GOT  THE  SWITCH   CLOSED   JUST   IN   THE   NICK   OF  TIME, 


and  frantically  blew  the  "  broke  in  two  " 
signal,  hoping  that  it  would  warn  any  one 
who  might  be  in  the  switch  that  I  was 
coming  and  couldn't  stop. 

I  couldn't  see  ahead  very  well;  for  it 
seemed  as  if  the  wind  was  blowing  a  hur- 
ricane, and  behind  me  I  raised  such  a 
cloud  of  dust  that  I  couldn't  even  see 
the  rear  car  of  the  section  I  had.  So  I 
just  hung  on  desperately,  blew  my  warn- 


ing signal,  and  watched  the  steam-gauge; 
and  as  the  steam  went  down,  I  pulled  the 
throttle  out  a  notch  at  a  time,  until  at 
length  I  had  her  wide  open,  hooked  up 
within  a  couple  of  notches  of  the  center, 
and  the  exhaust  sounded  like  a  continuous 
roar.  And  now  I  saw  ahead  of  me  a  man 
in  the  middle  of  the  track,  languidly  wav- 
ing a  red  flag.  Yes;  it  was  all  over  with  me 
now — the  freight-house  switch  was  open. 

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398  A   SWITCH  CLOSED  IN   THE  NICK  OF  TIME. 

like  the  despairing  death 
shriek  of  the  iron  devil  I 
rode,  and  to  give  him  every 
second  of  time  possible  I 
shut  off  my  throttle,  with 
the  immediate  result  that 
the  cars  bumped  up  against 
the  tender  with  a  shock  that 
nearly  threw  me  over  back- 
wards; but  I  hung  on,  and 
watched  that  man  eagerly 
as  he  flew  with  all  the  speed 
that  was  in  him  for  that 
-  '  switch.  What  if  he  should 
stub  his  toe,  as  men  so  often 
do  under  likecircum- 
stances  ?  It  would  mean 
death  for  me  before  I  could 
close  my  eyes  ;  and,  even 
then,  I  remember  thinking 
how  fortunate  it  was  for 
me,  that  owing  to  the  pro- 
verbial laziness  of  flagmen, 
he  hadn't  gone  out  as  far 
as  the  rules  required,  but 
had  stayed  near  the  switch. 
I  saw  him  reach  it,  and 
*  stoop  down,  clutch  the  han- 
dle, and  at  the  first  effort 
fail  to  lift  it  out  of  the 
notch  in  which  it  lies  when 
the  switch  is  open ;  and  then 
I  swept  by  like  a  cyclone. 

"THE   CONDUCTOR  CAMS   RUNNING   OVER   THE   TRAIN,    WAVING   HIS   HAT,    AND  YEl.L-        "C        *}       .         «     .  SWllCn 

ing  for  mb  to  stop.m  closed   just  in  the  nick  of 

time,  and  the  rush  of  wind 
Mechanically  I  again  blew  the  signal;  from  the  passing  train  hurled  him  down  a 
then  realizing  that  I  had  not  above  half  fifty-foot  embankment,  bruising  him  and 
a  dozen  more  breaths  to  draw  in  this  tearing  his  clothes,  but  fortunately  doing 
world,  a  kind  of  demoniac  frenzy  seemed  him  no  serious  injury.  " 
to  seize  me — a  desire  to  do  all  the  damage  I  saw  in  the  siding  the  engine  that  I 
possible  with  my  dying  breath,  to  annihi-  came  so  near  hitting,  and  the  engine  and 
late  everything  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  train  crew  out  in  the  field,  staring  with 
as  it  were.  Clutching  the  reverse  lever  blanched  faces;  one  laggard  just  tumbling 
with  both  hands,  I  with  difficulty  unhooked  over  the  fence  as  I  whirled  by.  I  heard  a 
her,  and  dropped  her  down  a  couple  of  crash,  and,  looking  back,  saw  that  the  cor- 
notches,  and,  fast  as  she  was  going  be-  ner  of  the  head  car  had  rolled  over  far 
fore,  I  felt  her  leap  ahead  under  the  im-  enough  to  break  off  the  water-crane  that 
petus  of  the  longer  point  of  cut-off,  and  stood  alongside  the  track,  resulting  in  a 
a  fierce  joy  surged  over  me  to  think  what  bad  washout  before  they  could  get  the 
a  world-beater  my  wreck  would  be.  water  shut  off.  I  breathed  much  easier 
Looking  ahead  again,  I  saw  that  the  now,  and  it  was  with  a  light  heart  that  I 
flagman  had  dropped  his  flag  and  was  pulled  up  the  lever  again  and  gradually 
running  at  a  breakneck  speed  for  the  opened  her  out.  I  was  running  through  a 
switch.  For  a  wonder  they  hadn't  sent  yard  where  the  rules  required  me  to  re- 
out  the  biggest  dunce  on  the  train  to  flag,  duce  speed  to  six  miles  an  hour,  but  a 
He  had  sense  enough,  on  seeing  me  com-  train  going  sixty-six  could  not  have  kept 
ing  and  hearing  my  signal,  to  comprehend  up  with  me. 

the  situation,  and  wit  enough  to  know  the  There  was  a  passenger  station   at  the 

only  right  thing  to  do.     To  spur  him  on,  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  looking  at  my 

I  again  blew  what  then  sounded  to  me  watch,  I  saw  that  a  train  was  just  about 

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FRANTIC  SIGNALS   TO   GO  AHEAD, 


399 


due  there;  so  again  I  began  to  blow  my 
signal  to  warn  them  to  look  out  for  them- 
selves, for  the  station  was  on  my  side  of 
the  road,  so  that  passengers  and  baggage 
had  to  cross  my  track.      Yes,  there  she 
stood  as  I  came  in  sight — a  little  three-car 
local.     Again  I  blew  to  them  to  make  sure 
that  they  understood  what  was  going  on, 
although  I  could  see  that  the  track  ahead 
of  me  was  clear,  for  the  operator  at  the 
preceding  station,    with  rare  presence  of 
mind,  had  telegraphed   ahead  that  I  was 
coming,   "broke  in   two;"   and  fast  as  I 
went,  the  message  beat  me,  and  though 
I  couldn't  hear  it  for  the  infernal  roar  and 
clatter,  yet  I  saw,  in  answer  to  my  own 
signal,  two  short  puffs 
of    white   steam    from 
the   engine's    whistle, 
which     meant     "All 
right,     come     along." 
And  come  along  I  did, 
I  have  no  doubt  to  the 
amazement     of     those 
passengers,    who    cer- 
tainly    never     saw     a 
freight    train    wheeled 
at    that    rate    before. 
The  agent  had  a  truck- 
load  of  baggage  ready 
to  take  across  as  soon 
as   I   passed,    but   the 
suction    of     the    train 
drew  the  whole   busi- 
ness under  the  wheels, 
and     it     disappeared. 
He  was  discharged  be- 
cause the  superintend- 
ent said  he  was  a  fool. 

The  engineer  of  the 
local  told  me  after- 
wards that  all  he  saw 
was  the  front  end  of  the 
engine,  with  my  face 
at  the  window  ;  then 
there  came  a  big  cloud 
of  dust  and  a  roar,  fol- 
lowed directly  by  an- 
other roar  as  the  rear 
section  passed  him,  and 
that  was  all  he  knew 
about  it. 

I  was  now  down  the 
mountain,  thank  heav- 
en, and  on  level 
ground,  but  the  rear 
section  wasn't,  and  I 
hadn't  the  least  idea 
how  far  it  was  behind 
me;  so  I  kept  the  old 
girl  waltzing  as  fast  as 


I  could — which  wasn't  very  fast,  as  my 
steam  was  down  to  sixty  pounds.  I  didn't 
dare  get  down  and  look  at  my  fire,  for  fear 
of  being  killed  in  case  the  rear  section 
caught  me,  which  was  now  more  imminent 
than  ever;  as,  while  I  was  losing  way  on 
the  level  ground,  their  speed  would  hardly 
be  checked  at  all. 

Suddenly  rounding  a  curve,  I  saw  a  man 
standing  by  the  switch  of  a  long  siding, 
giving  me  a  frantic  "go  ahead"  signal. 
At  that  sight  my  spirits  rose  about  two 
thousand  per  cent.,  for  I  knew  I  was  saved. 

Giving  him  an  answering  toot  toot,  I 
dropped  my  reverse  lever  down  in  the 
corner,  and  pulled  her  wide  open  to  get  as 


'THE  SUCTION  OP  THE  TRAIN   DREW  THE  WHOLE   BUSINESS  UNDER  THE   WHEELS,  AND   IT 
DISAPPEARED." 


Digitized  by 


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400 


THE  CRASH  COMES. 


far  from  the  rear  section  as  possible,  and 
give  him  all  the  chance  I  could  to  throw  the 
switch,  after  I  had  passed  on  the  main  track, 
and  throw  the  rear  section  in  on  the  siding. 

This  siding  itself  was  on  a  large  curve, 
and  I  found  before  I  had  gone  a  quarter 
of  its  length  that  it  was  partly  occupied 
by  a  number  of  loaded  coal  cars.  Now 
here  arose  another  new  combination. 
There  was  going  to  be  a  wreck  on  that 
siding,  and  I  might  get  caught  in  it  yet; 
for  if  I  didn't  get  far  enough  away  from 
the  point  of  collision,  some  of  the  cars 
would  be  apt  to  pile  over  on  top  of  me; 
and  then  again,  if,  in  my  haste  to  get  out 
of  the  way,  I  got  to  the  further  switch  at 
just  the  right  time,  they  might  be  shoved 
out,  and  ram  me.  You  see,  it  frequently 
happens  on  the  railroad  that  you  have  to 
think  of  several  things  at  once,  and  not 
be  very  long  about  it,  either;  and  the  re- 
sult of  my  rapid  thinking  on  this  occasion 
was  that  I  had  done  enough  towards  sav- 
ing the  company's  property  for  one  day, 
and  that  now  was  a  good  time  to  look 
out  for  myself  a  bit. 

I  pulled  her  over  and  "  plugged  "  her; 
but  as  my  steam  was  low,  I  concluded  she 
would  stop  herself  quicker  shut  off,  so  I 
shut  her  off;  and  while  I  was  waiting  for 
her  to  slow  up  enough  to  give  me  a  chance 
to  jump  on  the  left  side,  the  crash  came. 

There  was  a  great  smashing  and  grind- 
ing and  piling  up  round  the  curve  behind 
me;  but  where  I  was,  the  cars  merely  ran 
together  with  a  great  ker-bump  and  rat- 
tling of  links  and  pins,  which  I  could  hear 
continuing  on  round  the  curve  ahead  as 
the  lost  motion  between  the  cars  was  vio- 
lently taken  up.  After  the  noise  stopped 
a  bit  I  started  to  back  up,  when  remem- 
bering that  in  all  probability  the  opposite 
track  was  blocked  by  the  wreckage,  I  ran 
ahead,  instead,  to  the  next  station,  and 
notified  the  agent  to  hold  all  trains  until 
further  orders. 

I  then  reported  to  the  train-despatcher 
by  wire,  and  he  ordered  me  to  cross  over 
to  the  other  track  and  run  back  to  the 
wreck,  find  out  how  the  tracks  were,  and 
report  to  him  from  this  station,  the  agent 
keeping  the  track  open  for  my  return. 

The  agent,  a  bright,  ambitious  young 
fellow,  who  is  now  a  division  superintend- 
ent on  the  same  road,  helped  me  to  fire 
up,  and  back  I  went.  I  found,  as  I  had 
expected,  that  both  tracks  were  blocked, 
the  wrecked  cars  being  piled  in  heaps, 
mixed  and  tangled  with  the  railroad  iron 
that  had  composed  part  of  my  train,  while 
coal,  flour,  agricultural  machinery,  and  all 


sorts  of   merchandise  were  scattered   all 
over  the  ground. 

FIFTY-TWO    HOURS   ON    DUTY. 

Our  lives  were  not,  as  you  may  have 
been  led  to  suppose,  all  made  up  of  acci- 
dents, by  any  means.  They  were  varied 
by  long  spells  of  semi-idleness  when 
freight  was  slack,  or  being  worked  to 
death  when  it  was  running  heavy,  for  at 
such  times  it  is  not  admitted  that  men 
need  rest  or  sleep.  On  one  occasion,  on 
arriving  at  the  end  of  the  division,  after  a 
particularly  tedious  trip,  I  was  ordered  to 
return  at  once  sixty  miles  down  the  road 
to  bring  up  thirty  cars  of  coal  as  fuel  for 
the  engines.  "And  hurry  up  with  it;  we 
want  it."  I  protested  that  I  was  tired 
and  unfit  to  go,  but  was  told  there  was 
nobody  else;  so  I  coaled,  watered,  and 
oiled  up,  got  the  caboose,  and  started. 

When  I  got  there,  I  found  four  hours' 
switching  (for  which  you  don't  get  paid) 
to  get  my  train  together;  but  at  last  we 
got  started.  On  my  trip  back  I  had  a 
hard  hill  to  climb.  No  one  had  ever  taken 
thirty  cars  of  coal  up  that  hill,  but  I  didn't 
know  that;  for  if  I  had,  I  would  have 
allowed  for  the  contingency  of  doubling 
the  hill,  both  in  my  water  calculation  and 
in  estimating  my  time  ahead  of  the  pas- 
senger trains.  I  knew,  of  course,  that  it 
would  be  a  hard  tug  up  there,  so  I  cau- 
tioned the  fireman  to  get  a  good  welding 
heat  on  her.  I  got  as  much  water  into  her 
as  she  would  stand,  and,  after  oiling  the 
cylinders,  took  a  run  for  the  hill. 

We  had  just  taken  the  hill  nicely  when 
the  conductor  came  running  over  the  train, 
waving  his  hat,  and  yelling  for  me  to  stop. 
Not  knowing  what  might  be  the  matter, 
I  shut  off;  when  he  came  up  and  said  he 
had  a  liot  box  on  the  last  car.  Perhaps  I 
didn't  read  the  riot  act  to  that  conductor, 
to  stop  me  right  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  for 
a  hot  box,  when,  if  he  knew  anything,  he 
knew  that  long  before  I  could  get  up  there 
he  would  be  able  to  walk  alongside  the 
car  and  pack  it. 

The  damage  was  done,  though ;  so  I  told 
him  to  cut  the  train  in  two,  and  I  would 
take  my  end  up  while  he  packed  his  box. 
By  the  time  I  got  my  train  together  again 
on  top  of  the  hill,  I  had  barely  water 
enough  to  reach  the  next  plug;  the  fire 
was  in  bad  shape,  and  not  so  very  many 
miles  behind  us  there  was  a  mail  train.  So 
the  situation  resolved  itself  into  this:  that 
with  barely  water  and  time  enough,  and 
a  poor  fire,  I  needed  to  make  an  extra 


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A    TRAIN  IN  FRONT  AND  A    TRAIN  BEHIND. 


401 


good  run  of  fifteen  miles.  I  was  far  from 
happy,  especially  as  I  could  see  the  steam 
dropping  with  the  regularity  of  clockwork, 
though  the  fireman  was  working  like  a 
slave.  About  half-way  to  where  I  had  to 
go  was  a  little  station,  with  a  cross-over 


MOVE   THE    CARS    HALF   AN    INCH    TOO     FAR,    SO     I     WOl'LD     GET 
SIGNAL   TO    GO    AHEAD    A    bIT.  ' 


switch,  and  a  slight  grade  against  me.  I 
humored  her  all  I  could  to  get  over  that 
little  lump,  for  then  my  immediate  trou- 
bles would  be  about  over.  It  was  not  to 
be,  however;  she  gave  one  expiring  gasp 
and  died  before  reaching  the  summit. 

The  thing  to  do  now  was  to  back  across 
out  of  the  way  of  the  mail,  which  was 
nearly  due,  but  there  was  also  a  train  due 
on  the  other  track;  and  as  their  time  of 
passing  this  station  was  only  about  five 


minutes  apart,  the  conductor,  in  obedience 
to  the  rule  made  for  just  exactly  such 
emergencies,  went  into  the  telegraph  office 
to  find  out  if  either  of  the  trains  was 
late;  for  if  one  was  late,  we  might  take 
advantage  of  that  fact  to  avoid  delaying 
them  both. 

They  were  both  on  time, 
and  while  he  was  tele- 
graphing both  ways  to  as- 
certain that  fact,  the  mail 
came  up  behind  us  and 
stopped. 

In  a  big  hurry  now  the 
switches  were  opened, 
and  I  was  signalled  back. 
As  it  was  slightly  down 
grade,  I  merely  gave  them 
a  little  kick,  and  away 
they  rolled.  As  I  went 
past  the  conductor,  I 
asked  him  if  he  had  a  man 
on  the  rear  car  to  set  a 
brake  and  stop  them  after 
I  got  across.  He  said 
yes  ;  but  he  lied,  and  I 
thought  so  at  the  time. 

When    the   engine  was 
over  all  clear,  I  called  for 
brakes,    but    I     got    no 
brakes ;    and   they    were 
rolling  faster  than  ever, 
and,  in  the  meantime,  the 
other  passenger  train  had 
arrived  and  stood  facing 
me.     It  was  now  dark,  so 
that  all  I  could  see  was 
lamp  signals  ;  again  and 
again  I  called  for  brakes, 
but  there  was  no  one  on 
the  train  to  set  them;  the 
mail    had    gone,    and    I 
ought  now  to  be  crossing 
back    again   out    of    the 
other  fellow's  way.     If  I 
stopped   them    with    the 
engine,  the  chances  were 
ninety-nine  to  a  hundred 
that  I  should  break  them 
in  two.     It  was  the  only 
thing  to  do,  though ;  so  as  gently  as  I  could 
I  checked  them,  and,  as  I  fondly  hoped, 
pulled  my  whole  train  across  out  of  the 
way.     But,  alas!  the  caboose  and  two  cars 
had  broken  off  and  rolled  away  down  the 
grade,  no  one  could  say  how  far.    So  I  had 
to  back  up  again,  clear  of  the  switch,  cut 
off  the  engine,  and  go  back  after  those 
cars.      There  was  nobody  on  them,   and 
the  caboose  lights  had  not  been  lit,  con- 
sequently it  was  a  hunt  in  the  dark ;  and  as 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


402 


A  LUMP  OF  COAL  FOR  A  PILLOW. 


one  of  the  things  you  mustn't  do  is  to  run 
into  and  wreck  your  rear  end  when  going 
back  after  it,  I  had  to  go  very  carefully, 
while  all  this  time  the  passenger  train  stood 
there  waiting.  At  last  I  got  them,  pulled 
them  across  in  a  hurry — although,  to  be 
sure,  it  was  hardly  worth  while  to  hurry 
now — and  after  the  passenger  train  had 
gone,  I  shoved  them  back  over  the  switch 
again,  pulled  up  the  train,  shoved  it  over 
and  coupled  them  all  together,  and  pulled 
them  back  on  to  my  track  again. 

OUT  OF  WATER,  AND  THE  LIMITED  COMING. 

I  was  now  nearly  out  of  water,  and  in 
less  than  an  hour  the  limited  would  be  on 
top  of  us.  The  next  water-plug  was  five 
miles  away;  I  cut  the  engine  loose  and 
ran  for  it,  took  half  a  tank  as  quickly  as 
possible,  and  started  back  after  my  train. 
Though  I  came  back  whistling  for  a  signal, 
the  first  thing  I  saw  was  the  station  lights. 
The  crew  were  all  in  there  having  a  smoke; 
"didn't  expect  me  back  so  soon,"  they 
said.  I  tried  my  best  to  stop,  knowing 
that  I  must  be  close  to  the  train,  but  I  hit 
it  hard  enough  to  break  the  draw-bar  in 
the  car,  and  by  the  time  they  got  that 
fixed  up  there  was  no  earthly  hope  of 
getting  to  the  next  siding  ahead  of  the 
limited.  So  once  more  I  backed  over  that 
cross-over,  but  not  until  I  saw  a  man 
swinging  a  lantern  on  the  last  car. 

After  the  limited  got  by,  we  pulled 
across  once  more,  and  by  this  time  it  was 
doubtful  if  I  had  water  enough  to  get  to 
the  siding;  but  as  we  had  all  night  before 
us  now,  I  let  her  take  it  easy,  and  got 
there  after  a  while,  with  the  tank  dry  and 
the  boiler  not  much  better.  I  got  down 
to  oil  while  the  fireman  was  taking  water, 
and  discovered  that  the  link  lifting-spring 
was  broken;  and  while  I  was  looking  at  it 
and  wondering  how  that  could  have  hap- 
pened without  my  knowing  it,  the  head 
brakeman  came  up  with  an  order  for  me  to 
weigh  that  coal. 

My  back  was  almost  broken,  and  I  was 
more  than  half  dead  with  fatigue  and 
worry,  and  now  I  had  to  weigh  thirty  cars 
of  coal  without  a  lifting-spring. 

There  was  a  way  freight  engine  lying  in 
a  spur  back  of  the  station,  so  I  tele- 
graphed to  the  train-despatcher,  telling 
him  how  I  was  fixed,  and  asking  permis- 
sion to  use  that  engine  to  weigh  the  coal 
with.  The  answer  I  got  was  short,  but 
not  sweet:  "  Use  the  engine  you  have." 
Back  I  went  to  the  yard  and  weighed 
that  coal.  In  order  to  back  her,  I  had  to 
brace  both  feet  against  the  front  of  the 


cab,  and,  pulling  with  all  my  might,  raise 
the  heavy  links;  then,  perhaps,  I  would 
have  the  misfortune  to  move  the  cars  half 
an  inch  too  far,  so  I  would  get  a  signal  to 
go  ahead  a  bit,  and  on  unhooking  the 
lever  it  would  fly  forward  with  such  force 
as  nearly  to  jerk  me  through  the  front 
windows. 

I  got  the  coaj  weighed  sometime  and 
somehow,  coupled  on  to  them,  and  the 
conductor,  coming  ahead,  began  to  tell  how 
far  we  could  go  if  we  hurried  up  and  got 
out  ahead  of  train  12;  but  I  cut  him  short 
by  telling  him  to  go  in  the  office  and  tell 
Chicago  that  I  couldn't  go  another  foot 
until  I  got  five  or  six  hours'  sleep.  Off 
he  went  grumbling,  but  came  back  in  a  few 
minutes.  "  Chicago  says,  '  All  right.  Go 
to  sleep.'" 

I  pulled  them  into  a  convenient  siding, 
picked  as  smooth  a  lump  of  coal  as  I 
could  find  in  the  tender,  upholstered  it 
with  waste,  and  spreading  my  coat  on 
the  foot-board  for  a  mattress,  dropped  the 
curtain,  and  curled  myself  in  the  short, 
inconvenient,  hot,  and  dirty  cab  for  a  few 
hours'  rest  (?)  to  the  tune  of  the  fireman's 
grumbling.  After  some  time  I  dozed  off 
— as  it  seemed,  for  about  a  minute.  Then 
somebody  was  shaking  my  shoulder  and 
calling,  "  Hey!  "  I  looked  up  dazed  into 
the  face  of  the  fireman.  "  Seven's  just  gone, 
an'  if  we  follow  her,  we  can  go  right  in." 

Seven  was  the  midnight  train  out  of 
Chicago,  and  if  she  had  gone,  there  would 
certainly  be  ample  time  for  us  to  get  in 
before  the  first  morning  train  arrived.  I 
was  too  dead  to  look  at  my  watch,  so  1 
took  the  fireman's  word  for  it,  and  we  were 
soon  jouncing  along  at  a  fairly  good  gait. 
I  was  still  sleepy  and  dead;  had  to  keep 
my  head  out  in  the  sharp  morning  air  to 
keep  awake  at  all.  Arrived  at  a  water- 
station  about  half-way,  I  told  the  fireman 
he  had  better  fill  the  tank,  as  there  could 
hardly  be  enough  in  it  to  take  us  through. 
While  I  was  oiling,  the  conductor  came  up 
and  asked  if  I  was  going  to  sidetrack 
there.  I  looked  at  him  a  full  minute  be- 
fore I  could  get  it  through  my  head  what 
he  was  driving  at.  Then  J  told  him, 
"  No,  certainly  not;  why  should  I  side- 
track here?" 

"  How  fur  ye  goin'  fer  Seven  ?  " 

"All  the  way." 

"  What  time's  she  due  here  ?  " 

"  Fifty-seven." 

"  What  time  ye  got  now!  " 

I  looked  at  my  watch;  it  was  forty- 
eight.  I  asked  the  conductor  if  we  were 
clear  of  the  switch. 


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NO  REST  EVEN  IN  BED. 


403 


44  Yes." 

"  Have  you  got  it  open  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  gimme  a  signal." 

I  jumped  on  the  engine,  and  with  the 
conductor  giving  a  back-up  signal,  I 
jolted  those  cars  into  the  siding  fully  as 
fast  as  it  is  safe  to  back  over  a  frog,  and 
called  the  flag  just  in  time  to  prevent 
Seven's  engineer  from  getting  a  sight  of 
it,  though  he  saw  the  man,  and  told  me 
afterwards  that  he  "guessed"  I  hadn't 
been  in  the  switch  "  more'n  a  week." 

Then  the  fireman  and  I  had  a  little  ar- 
gument as  to  what  it  was  that  he  saw  when 
he  thought  Seven  had  passed  us  in  the 
yard.  The  only  passenger  train  on  the 
road  at  that  time  was  one  going  the 
other  way.  After  I  had  proved  it  by 
the  time-table,  the  fireman  finally  admit- 
ted that  I  was  right.  He  had  been  boring 
the  flues  while  I  was  asleep,  and  he  had 
also  been  figuring  in  his  mind  as  to  what 
would  be  the  best  time  for  us  to  leave,  and 
decided  that  if  we  followed  Seven  we 
would  be  all  right,  which  was  perfectly 
correct;  then,  with  his  mind  full  of  Seven, 
he  got  down  to  put  away  his  flue-rod,  and 
hearing  a  train  go  by,  thought,  of  course, 
it  must  be  Seven. 

After  Seven  got  away,  we  proceeded  to 
our  destination  without  further  mishap, 
shoved  the  train  away,  and  gave  up  the 
engine  to  the  hostler.  Having  been  fifty- 
two  hours  on  her  without  rest  (for  the 
short  term  of  comparative  quiet  in  the 
yard  could  not  be  so  termed),  I  entered 
on  the  register  this  request:  "Have  been 
fifty-two  hours  on  duty.  Do  not  call  me 
until  I  have  had  eight  hours'  sleep, — 9.30 

A.M." 

I  had  just  dropped  off  when  I  was  rudely 
shaken  by  the  caller,  and  saluted  with 
"  Hey!  hey!  are  ye  awake  now  ?  Come, 
I've  been  callin'  ye  fer  ten  minutes;  you're 
wanted  for  a  stock  train.  Hurry  up  now; 
your  engine  is  all  ready;  train's  standing 
on  main  track  waiting  fer  ye."  When  I 
got  my  wits  collected  so  as  to  realize  who 
I  was,  and  who  he  was,  and  what  he  was 
talking  about,  I  asked  him  the  time. 
"Ten-fifteen." 

"What!  have  I  only  been  forty-five 
minutes  off  that  engine  ? " 

"That's  all." 

Without  another  word  I  tumbled  back 
on  the  pillow  and  pulled  the  bedclothes 
over  my  head,  but  he  understood  his  busi- 
ness; he  had  been  calling  unwilling  rail- 
roaders for  four  years,  and  wouldn't  be 
denied.       For    a     while    he    shook    and 


pleaded  with  me,  and  then  realizing  the 
seriousness  of  the  case,  he  snatched  off 
the  bedclothes.  That  was  the  last  straw. 
I  jumped  out  of  bed  and  made  a  dive  for 
him;  but  he  had  often  seen  that  done 
before,  and  was  outside  the  door  before 
I  could  reach  him  ;  and  with  a  parting 
shot  through  the  crack  of  the  door, 
"  Hurry  up  now,  they're  waitin*  fer  ye," 
he  left. 

I  gathered  up  my  bedclothes  and  again 
crawled  uncomfortably  into  bed,  but  just 
as  I  was  beginning  to  get  my  ideas  into  a 
pleasant  state  of  haziness  once  more,  the 
door  was  fired  open  with  a  bang,  an  Indian 
yell  greeted  my  outraged  sense  of  hearing, 
and  rolling  over,  I  beheld  the  exultant 
countenance  of  mine  enemy,  safely  outside 
the  door  this  time,  and  holding  up  for  my 
inspection  a  sheet  of  dirty  yellow-colored 
paper,  which  I  knew  was  a  telegraph  form. 
"  Read  that,  now,  an'  see  if  ye'll  get  up 
or  not." 

I  took  the  paper  and  read:  "  Engineer 

M ,  don't  you   delay  this  stock  train. 

W.  S.  B." 

A  combined  order  and  threat  from  the 
train-despatcher,  signed  with  the  division 
superintendent's  initials,  which  are  always 
used  by  the  despatcher  on  duty, — a  per- 
emptory order,  to  be  unquestioningly 
obeyed.  I  borrowed  the  caller's  pencil 
and  wrote  underneath  the  order:  "  W.  S. 
B., — I  have  been  fifty-two  hours  on  duty, 
am  unfit  to  take  stock  train  or  any  other 
train.  J.  B.  M."  I  handed  it  to  the 
caller,  and  telling  him  that  if  he  disturbed 
me  again,  even  though  the  house  should 
be  afire,  1  would  brain  him,  I  once  more 
retired;  and  although  I  had  no  doubt  that 
I  had  signed  my  death-warrant,  I  slept  the 
sleep  of  the  utterly  weary. 

In  answer  to  the  expected  letter,  I 
called  on  the  superintendent  when  I  re- 
turned, and  got  my  medicine, — thirty 
days'  suspension  for  refusing  to  obey  an 
order.  I  was  lucky  to  get  off  so.  He 
told  me  that  all  that  saved  my  job  was 
the  fact  that  an  engine  came  in  off  the 
branch  opportunely  and  brought  the 
stock  train  through.  The  fact  that  I 
was  physically  incapacitated  did  not  jus- 
tify me  in  refusing  that  order  with  his  ini- 
tials attached.  I  have  always  had  an  idea, 
however,  that  my  troublesome  habit  of  ap- 
pealing to  the  general  manager  had  as 
much  to  do  with  preventing  my  discharge 
as  the  arrival  of  the  engine  off  the  branch. 

Copyright,  1897,  by  Herbert  E.  Hamblen.  Mr.  Hamblen's 
next  paper  will  relate  his  experiences  as  a  passenger  engi- 
neer.—Editor. 


Digitized  by 


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AN    EXPERIMENT    IN    BURGLARY. 


By  II.  IIohart  Nichols. 


PUT  aside  my  morning 
paper  as  the  breakfast 
bell  rang. 

"  Well,  dear,  what  is 
the  news?"  inquired 
my  wife  when  we  were 
seated  at  table. 

"  N  othi  ng  very 
startling/'    I    replied, 


"  My  dear,  you  don't  seem  to  under- 
stand how  clever  these  professional  bur- 
glars are;  and  as  for  your  hearing  them, 
that's  absurd.  You  have  always  labored 
under  the  delusion  that  you  are  a  light 
sleeper,  I  know;  but  you  are  mistaken. 
Why,  I'll  wager  1  could  break  in  and  rifle 
the  house  myself  from  top  to  bottom  with- 
out your  knowing  it." 


-4* 


excep 
last  nij 
organ  iz 

Wast     „  , 

fortnight  past,  of  a  series  of  daring  rob- 
beries. The  police  were  mystified  and 
seemed  to  be  unable  to  get  the  slightest 
clue  to  their  movements. 

"  I  think,  my  dear,"  I  continued,  "  that 
we  had  better  put  our  silver  in  a  safe  de- 
posit until  these  fellows  let  up,  for  it  seems 
that  they  are  too  much  for  the  authorities; 
I  should  not  like  to  lose  it,  and  the  fact 
that  we  have  quite  a  tempting  lot  was  well 
advertised  in  the  society  columns  at  the 
time  of  our  marriage." 

"  Nonsense,  George,"  replied  my  wife, 
who  is  not  easily  alarmed.  "  Do  you 
suppose  those  men  ever  read  of  what  is 
going  on  in  society  ?  At  any  rate,  no 
one  could  enter  this  house  in  the  night 
without  arousing  me  ;  and,  if  they  did, 
they  would  never  find  the  silver  in  that 
clever  little  device  of  yours — how  could 
they?" 


"I   THINK,  MY    DEAR,     .     .     .     THAT    WK    HAD    BKTTKK    Tl'T  OUR 
S1LVRK    IN    A    SAFK    UK  POSIT.' 

This  last  statement  naturally  piqued  my 
better  half. 

11  I'll  wager  you  a  new  silk  hat  that  you 
could  not,"  she  retorted  positively. 

"I  accept  the  challenge,"  I  replied, 
lightly;  "  what  do  you  want  if  I  lose  ?  " 

"Oh,  as  far  as  that  goes,  the  satisfac- 
tion of  being  right  will  be  quite  enough 
for  me,  George." 

"  Nevertheless,"  I  laughed,  although 
at  the  time  I  had  not  the  slightest  inten- 
tion of  trying  the  experiment,  "  neverthe- 
less, I  agree  to  add  another  piece  of  silver 
to  your  collection  if  I  lose  the  wager." 

After  breakfast  I  went  to  my  office  as 
usual,  thinking  no  more  of  the  conversa- 


Digitized  by 


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AN  EXPERIMENT  IN  BURGLARY. 


405 


tion  just  related.  Very  likely  it  would 
not  have  occurred  to  me  again,  preoccu- 
pied as  I  was  with  work  that  would  keep 
me  until  late  that  night,  if  my  wife  had 
not  alluded  to  it  as  I  was  about  to  leave 
the  house  after  dinner. 

11  I  have  been  thinking  over  our  conver- 
sation at  breakfast,"  she  said,  4<  and  I  am 
more  positive  than  ever  that  we  need  not 
worry  about  our  valuables.  The  slightest 
sound  is  heard  all  over  the  house,  and  one 
of  us  would  be  sure  to  hear  if  anyone  at- 
tempted to  enter  in  the  night.  Good-by, 
dear.  Don't  work  too  late;  it  isn't  good 
for  one  with  your  nervous  temperament, 
you  know,"  she  added  teasingly. 

I  smiled  at  her  pleasantry,  and  went  my 
way. 

As  I  put  down  my  pen  that  night,  with 
the  satisfaction  one  feels  when  conscious 
of  having  performed  a  duty  well,  I  glanced 
at  my  watch,  only  to  discover  that  it  had 
stopped  at  three  minutes  past  midnight. 
How  much  later  it  was  I  could  only  infer. 
It  was  no  unusual  thing,  however,  for  me 
to  remain  out  late,  and  Alice,  being  as 
amiable  as  she  was  sensible,  never  made 
me  feel  uncomfortable  by  sitting  up  for 
me,  as  is  the  custom  of  some  doting  young 
wives.  So  I  had  no  misgivings  on  her 
account  as  I  started 
to  return  home. 

It  was  later  than  I 
had  supposed,  for  the 
cars  had  stopped,  and 
I  had  to  walk  the  half 
mile  or  so  to  my  house. 
It  was  a  warm  October 
night,  and  a  fine  mist 
had  settled  over  the 
city,  obscuring  the 
faint  light  of  the  stars. 
The  street  lamps  made 
great  ghostly  blurs  as 
they  melted  in  the 
distance,  and  the 
buildings  grew  more 
and  more  vague  and 
shapeless,  until  they 
became  part  of  the 
haze.  The  silence 
was  profound,  the 
streets  almost  deserted,  and  the  houses 
I  passed  dark  and  gloomy  as  so  many 
tombs. 

44  What  a  perfect  night  for  a  burglar!  " 
I  reflected;  and  with  the  thought  came  the 
recollection  of  my  conversation  with  Alice 
at  breakfast  and  her  complacent  boast. 
Why  not  put  her  to  the  test  ? 


4  1  LL   WAGER   YOU   A  NEW   SILK   MAT 


44  By  George,"  I  exclaimed,  half  aloud, 
as  the  suggestion  materialized  into  a  plan, 
14  I'll  do  it;  and  if  I  succeed,  won't  I  have 
the  laugh  on  Alice  in  the  morning!  " 

I  had  once,  having  mislaid  my  keys, 
managed  to  effect  an  entrance  through 
one  of  the  dining-room  windows.  I  would 
do  the  same  to-night,  remove  the  silver 
from  its  hiding-place,  conceal  it  elsewhere, 
let  Alice  herself  discover  its  absence,  and, 
after  enjoying  her  discomfiture,  tell  her 
the  whole  story  and  claim  the  victory. 

To  be  sure,  there  was  the  possibility  of 
failure.  I  might  awaken  Alice  and  frighten 
her  out  of  her  wits,  for  I  had  all  a  man's 
skepticism  as  to  a  woman's  courage  in  the 
face  of  danger.  Still,  I  would  not  admit 
that  it  was  more  than  a  shadow  of  a  pos- 
sibility. The  more  I  thought  of  it,  the 
surer  I  felt  of  myself. 

As  I  walked  on  I  found  myself  entering 
into  my  rdle  with  zest  and  enthusiasm. 
As  detail  after  detail  presented  itself,  an 
unholy  delight  in  my  own  cleverness  pos- 
sessed me;  and  as  I  reached  my  house 
and  tiptoed  around  the  gravel  walk  to  the 
side  and  rear,  all  my  senses  were  keenly 
on  the  alert,  and  my  heart  beat  with  a 
lawless  excitement  not  felt  since  the  days 
when  robbing  corn-fields  and  watermelon 
patches  formed  the  chief  joys  of  my  in- 
nocent boyhood. 

Trying  the  blinds 
of  the  dining-room 
windows,  I  at  last 
found  one  that  was 
not  merely  loose,  but 
unlatched. 

44  What  careless- 
ness! "  I  reflected; 
44  but  so  much  the 
easier  for  me." 

Opening  it  noiseless- 
ly, I   was  further  sur- 
prised to  discover  that 
the  window  was  raised. 
Plainly,  I  reflected,  the 
servants   must  not  be 
,  trusted  to  lock  up  the 
house      hereafter. 
G  lancing  into    the 
room,    I    saw   that 
everything    was    as 
usual;  the  drop-light  burning  dimly  on  the 
table,  as  was  always  the  case  when  I  was 
out  late,  in  view  of  the  nocturnal  luncheon 
with    which    I    endeavored    to    repair   my 
wasted   energies.      After  listening  a  mo- 
ment, I  pulled  myself  up,  thrust  one  leg 
over  the  window-sill,  and  was  half  way  in 
the  room,   when   I    was  confronted   by  a 

Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


406 


AN  EXPERIMENT  IN  BURGLARY. 


'  WHAT   A    I'KKl-ECT   NIOHT    FOR   A    8UKGLAK 


man — a  burly  fellow — who  loomed  sud- 
denly out  of  the  semi-darkness,  and,  level- 
ing a  revolver  at  me,  brought  me  to  a 
standstill.  To  say  that  I  was  astonished 
is  putting  it  mildly;  and  I  have  no  idea 
what  I  should  have  said  or  done  had  not 
the  ruffian  inadvertently  given  me  my  cue, 
which  I  am  proud  to  say  I  was  quick- 
witted enough  to  follow. 

"Git  hout  o'  this,  yer  bloat!"  he 
growled,  in  a  deep,  low  voice,  and  with  a 
decidedly  Cockney  accent.  "This  his 
my  game,  hand  I  don't  need  hany  o' 
yer  hassistance.  When  I  git  through  yer 
can  'ave  wat's  left." 

I  saw  in  a  flash  that  the  fellow  mistook 
me  for  one  of  his  own  craft.  My  first 
impulse  was  to  obey  his  injunction  to 
"git  hout"  as  speedily  as  possible,  and 
return  promptly  with  a  policeman  or  two. 
Then  I  thought  of  Alice.  Suppose  the 
fellow  went  up-stairs  before  I  got  back 
and  she  should  see  him.  With  all  her 
boasted  nerve  the  shock  would  be  terrible. 
No,  I  must  not  leave  the  rascal.  He  was 
probably  one  of  the  gang  who  had  been 
operating  in  Washington  lately.  If  I 
were  only  cool  enough  and  clever  enough 
I  might  be  instrumental  in  lodging  him, 
and  possibly  his  pals,  in  jail,  where  I  cer- 
tainly wished  him  at  the  moment.  To  do 
this  I  must  fall  into  the  rile  of  real  bur- 
glar, to  which  the  fellow  had  assigned  me, 
and  in  some  way  bend  circumstances  to 
my  purpose.  But  though  I  had  never  in 
my  life  thought  so  rapidly  or  so  much  to 
the  point  as  I  did  in  the  ten  seconds  I  was 
looking  into  the  barrel  of  that  revol- 
ver, I  confess  I  could  not  see  my  way 
clear;  however,  something  must  be  done, 


RKKLKCTKD. 


and  quickly. 
So  with  a  wink 
and  a  swagger  I 
motioned  the 
revolver  aside, 
and,  pulling 
myself  into  the 
room,  remarked 
in  a  cautious 
tone: 

"  Come  now, 
my    lad,    don't 
be  a  fool.     I've 
been     watching 
my    chance    to 
crack   this  crib 
for  some  time, 
and  now  that  I 
am  here  I  don't 
mean  that   you 
shall  stop  me." 
The  fellow  glared  at  me  for  a  moment, 
then  lowered  his  weapon  and  hoarsely  re- 
sponded : 

"Well,  don't  'rouse  the  'ouse.  I  sup- 
pose we'd  better  do  the  job  t'gether  than 
git  jugged." 

Evidently  no  doubt  of  my  belonging  to 
his  noble  profession  had  yet  occurred  to 
him;,  but  I  realized  perfectly  that  the 
smallest  mistake  on  my  part  might  arouse 
his  suspicion.  I  saw  at  a  -glance  that 
he  was  of  a  low,  brutal  type,  and  that 
my  only  chance  lay  in  convincing  him 
that  I  was  the  superior  cracksman  of  the 
two. 

"  Never  mind  who  I  am,"  I  replied  to 
his  inquiry  as  to  my  identity.  "  If  you 
weren't  a  stranger  in  these  parts  I  think 
you'd  know  me.  Been  taking  a  nap  ?  "  I 
continued,  noting  that  he  had  secured 
nothing  so  far.  "  Where's  your  swag  ?  " 
"  I  jest  got  hin,  but  I'm  'anged  if  I 
sees  hany  think  now's  I'm  'ere,"  he  replied 
sullenly. 

I  glanced  about,  remarking  that  there 
didn't  seem  to  be  much  in  sight,  and  sug- 
gested that  perhaps  the  house  contained 
nothing  worth  taking,  hoping  that  I  might 
discourage  him  so  that  he  would  leave 
without  further  search. 

"  None  o'  your  Yankee  tricks  with  me," 
he  growled,  and  his  tone  was  threatening; 
"  yer  knows  there's  a  good  'awl  to  be  made, 
or  yer  wouldn't  be  'ere.  Didn't  I  see 
in  th'  papers  that  these  young  uns  were 
jest  marrit  an'  they  got  a  'eap  o'  silver 
give  'em  ?" 

Even  in  my  perturbed  state  of  mind  I 
felt  a  satisfaction  in  knowing  that  I  was 
again  right — burglars  did  read  the  society 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


AN  EXPERIMENT  IN  BURGLARY.  *  407 

column.     I  made  a  mental  note  of  d* 

the  remark  for  the  further  humilia-  ' 

tion  of  my  wife. 

"  You're  right,"  I  whispered,  with 

a  sly  grin  that  cost  me  a  tremendous 

effort  (and  I  may  as  well  add  that 

my  enjoyment  of  the  rdle  had  ceased 

from  the  moment  when  the  amateur 

became  the  professional),  "  they've 

got  plenty  of  stuff,  and  we've  only 

got  to  find  it." 

He   began   pulling  open    drawers 

and  closets,  tossing  the  table  linen 

into  a  heap  on  the  floor  and  upset- 
ting things    generally.      For    some 

moments  he  worked  on  stealthily,  I 

apparently  assisting  him,  my  mind 

revolving  plan  after  plan  for  bring- 
ing the  situation  to  a  desirable  end, 

without,    however,    arriving   at   any 

decision. 

I  felt  perfectly  easy  as  far  as  our 

silver  was  concerned;  no  one  not  in 

the  secret  could  possibly  discover  its 

hiding-place.     But   another   anxiefy 

was  sending  the  blood  to  my  brain. 

Suppose,  finding  nothing,  the  fellow  "G,T  HOlT  *°  ™,s»  yek  bloat tn 

should     propose    going     up-stairs  ? 

Scarcely  had  the  thought  entered  my  mind    "I  guess   you're  right,"   I  said.      "But 

when,  with  an  oath,  he  turned  from  the    you'd  better  let  me  go  alone;  I'm  lighter 

open  drawers  and  growled:  on  my  feet." 

"  They  hain't  nothink  down  'ere;  we'll        In  our  upper  hall  there  is  a  messenger 

'ave  to  go  hup."  call;  it  was  in  the  house  when  we  moved 

For  a  moment  I  was  staggered;  then,    in.     Regarding  it  as  a  disfigurement  to  the 

wall,  we  had  meant  to  have 
it  removed;  but  how  glad  I 
now  was  that  we  had  pro- 
crastinated can  be  imagined. 
Breathlessly  I  awaited  the 
villain's  answer.  He  fixed 
his  beady  eyes  on  me;  then, 
with  a  cunning  leer: 

"I'll  go  halong  too,"  he 
said;  "  yer  might  need  pro- 
tection, yer  see." 

He  was  troubled  by  no  mis- 
givings regarding  my  knav- 
ery, but  evidently  he  did  not 
believe  in  the  adage  that  there 
is  honor  even  among  thieves; 
he  was  fearful  lest  I  cheat 
him  out  of  what  he  consid- 
ered his  share  of  the  plunder. 
It  seemed  clear  that  the  only 
way  to  keep  him  down-stairs 
was  to  give  up  my  cherished 
plate.  Perhaps  if  I  had  had 
more  time  I  might  have 
thought  of  another  plan; 
but  there  stood  the  burglar, 
<4he  began  pulling  open  drawers  ..."  eying   me   suspiciously,  and 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


4oS 

! 


1  HE   APPRARRD 


AN  EXPERIMENT  IN  BURGLARY. 

"You  bar  a  rum  'un,  you  har!  Was 
goin'  to  keep  hit  all  to  yerself  too. 
Say!  'owd  yer  git  hon  to  it?"  he 
asked,  with  a  touch  of  deference  in  his 
manner. 

41  Oh,  I'll  divvy  the  silver,  but  I'll  keep 
my  knowledge  to  myself,"  I  replied  jo- 
cosely, for  I  wanted  to  keep  him  in  a  good 
humor. 

So  far  so  good;  but  what  I  was  to  do 
next  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea.  Ideas 
came  and  went  confusedly  as  I  watched 
him  stowing  away  our  silver  in  a  sack 
which  he  drew  from  beneath  his  waist- 
coat. Again  the  man  unwittingly  sug- 
gested my  course. 

14  Say,  you  tap  the  top  o'  the  crib  while 
I  stow  haway  this  swag." 

At  last,  though  he  had  the  silver,  it  was 
evident  that  I  had  his  confidence.  Per- 
ceiving my  opportunity,  I  was  quick  to 
seize  it. 

44  All  right;  but  how  do  I  know  that 
you  won't  skip  with  the  silver  while  I'm 
at  it  ?°  1  replied. 

44  Do  yer  take  me  for  a  bloomin'  hin- 
nocent  in  harms  ?  "  he  grinned.  "  Dimons 
an'  watches  his  worth  'avin'." 

I    felt   convinced  of   his  sincerity;   so, 

slipping   off    my   shoes,    I    pushed   aside 

the  portiere  and  went  into  the  hall.     At 

vith  a  pikck  of  pik  in  his  hand."    the    foot   of   the  stairs   I   paused  ;    if   I 


the  crisis  was  at  hand.  I  am  a 
small  man,  more  of  a  student 
than  an  athlete;  the  burglar  was 
a  big  fellow,  with  fists  like  sledge 
hammers — and  a  revolver.  So,  in- 
wardly cursing,  but  assuming  a 
patronizingandrecklessair,  I  said: 

44  Well,  I  guess  I'll  have  to  let 
you  into  this,  after  all.  You 
English  chaps  are  a  thousand 
years  behind  the  times.  You're 
not  onto  our  Yankee  notions,  I 
see. 

I  began  moving  along  the  wall, 
feeling  the  paneling,  until  I  came 
to  the  corner  near  the  door;  here 
I  stopped  and  looked  at  him;  he 
was  watching  me  intently,  I 
pressed  one  of  the  beads  in  the 
molding,  and  instantly  two  of 
the  panels  slid  apart,  disclosing  a 
tempting  array  of  household  sil- 
ver. 

44  Well,  I  be  blowed!"  ejac- 
ulated my  colleague  aloud,  for- 
getting caution;  and  without 
delay  he  deftly  began  pulling  out 
piece  after  piece. 


41  i'm  not  the  onh,'  I  gasped. 

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AN  EXPERIMENT  IN  BURGLARY.  409 

aroused  Alice  she  would  sup- 
pose rightly  that  it  was  I,  and 
would  certainly  speak;  the  fel- 
low would  hear  her  and  bolt 
with  the  silver.  I  dared  not 
risk  it.  Instead,  I  went  through 
the  library  into  a  little  room 
where  my  telephone  is  located. 
Closing  both  doors  behind  me, 
and  putting  my  hand  on  the  bell 
to  muffle  the  sound,  I  rang  up 
Central. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  came  the  an- 
swer. 

"  Give  me  the  Sixth  Precinct 
quickly,"  I  whispered. 

I  waited  an  interminable  time 
as  it  seemed  to  me,  then  the 
same  voice  said: 

41  Can't  get  them;  the  wire's 
out  of  order." 

My  heart  sank  within  me; 
but  I  stated  the  circumstances 
as  briefly  as  possible  to  the 
operator,  requesting  that  he 
send  word  to  the  police.  I 
knew  that  there  was  nothing 
left  for  me  to  do  but  keep  the 
fellow  occupied  until  the  officers 
arrived,  but  I  had  small  hope  of 
succeeding.  Stealing  back  to 
the  dining-room,  I  was  bewil- 
dered to  find  that  the  burglar 
had  vanished;  but  there  on  the 
floor  lay  the  bag  of  silver. 
Presently,  however,  I  heard  him 
in  the  pantry,  and  a  moment 
later  he  appeared  in  the  doorway 
with  a  piece  of  pie  in  his  hand. 

"Where   do   they    keep    the 
uquur  r        11c    gruniuieu,    inen,       UlT  KKQUn,ED  only  a  few  words  from  her  to  convince  the  officers 
seeing  my  hands  empty,  he  in-  OK  MY  identity." 

quired: 

"  What  luck  hup-stairs  ?  " 

I  shook  my  head.  "Nothing  there  "  What's  your  hurry  ?"  coolly  remarked 
worth  taking."  one  of  them,  snapping  a  pair  of  handcuffs 

His  brows  knitted  in  a  way  that  ex  pressed    on  my  wrists, 
plainly  that  he  doubted  me.     "  I "  "  I'm  not  the  one,"  I  gasped;  "  he's  in 

"Hist!"      1      interrupted.        "  What's    the  dining-room." 
that?"  "You'll  do,"  replied  the  man;   "better 

There  was  certainly  a  noise  outside.  give  over  that  bag;  you  won't  need  it." 

My  surprise  was  genuine,  for  it  did  not  "  I  am  the  proprietor  of  this  house, 
seem  possible  that  my  summons  could  and  this  is  my  own  silver,"  I  protested  in- 
have  been  answered  so  quickly.  dignantly.     "  For  heaven's  sake,  go  quick 

The  burglar  sprang  forward  and  turned  and  capture  that  ruffian  in  the  dining- 
out  the  light,  at  the  same  time  making  a    room." 

grab  for  the  silver.  I  was  there  before  "  Come,  we  know  you,  and  we  don't 
him,  however,  and,  bag  in  hand,  made  a  want  any  of  your  old  tricks;  you  can  tell 
rush  for  the  hall,  threw  open  the  front  us  those  fairy  tales  later,"  said  the  first 
door,  only  to  find  myself  seized  instantly  officer,  going  through  my  pockets  with 
by  two  officers  of  the  law,  professional  ease. 


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AN  EXPERIMENT  IN  BURGLARY. 


In  my  agitation  I 
did  not  hear  Alice 
come  down-stairs,  and 
only  knew  that  she 
was  present  when  I 
heard  her  excitedly 
corroborating  my 
statements.  It  re- 
quired only  a  few 
words  from  her  to  con- 
vince the  officers  of 
my  identity,  though 
evidently  against  their 
will;  for  they  contin- 
ued to  eye  me  with 
suspicion,  and  re- 
moved the  handcuffs 
with  undisguised  re- 
gret, as  Alice  subse- 
quently asserted. 
When  one  of  them 
finally  concluded  to 
investigate  my  state- 
ments regarding  the 
real  burglar,  and  made 
a  rush  for  the  dining- 
room,  it  hardly  need 
be  added  that  the 
bird  had  flown. 

The  piece  of  pie  on 
the  table,  minus  a 
large  semi-circular 
portion,  and  the  dis- 
ordered room,  were 
the  sole  traces  of  his 
presence,  if  one  ex- 
cepts the  bag  con- 
taining his  intended  plunder. 

After  partaking  of  the  refreshments 
which  I  felt  it  proper  to  offer  them,  the 
minions  of  the  law  departed,  still  chuckling 
over  the  events  of  the  evening  and  their 
denouement. 

"  How  perfectly  dreadful  to  find  that 
revolver  thrust  in  your  face!  "  said  Alice, 
sympathetically,  as  soon  as  we  were  alone, 


I 


SHK    HAD    UKKN    AKOi'ShD    UV    NOISES    DOWN-STAIRS. 


"and  how  splendidly 
you  behaved  all 
through,  you  poor 
dear  old  George! " 

"Yes,"  I  acknowl- 
edged modestly,  "it 
was  a  trying  situation 
for  one  of  my  '  nerv- 
ous temperament.'  " 

Alice  gave  me  an 
affectionate  tap  on 
the  cheek. 

"  And  if  my  police- 
men had  not  appeared 
with  such  amazing 
alacrity,  you  might 
have  lost  both  your 
husband  and  your 
silver,  my  dear  ;  for 
that  fellow  was  get- 
ting very  ugly." 

"  Your  police,"  re- 
plied my  wife,  smiling. 
"The  police  I  tele- 
phoned   for,"    I    ex- 
plained. 

Alice  continued  to 
smile. 

"  But  they  were  not 
your  policemen, 
George ;  they  were 
mine." 

It  was  now  my 
wife's  turn  to  assume 
a  patronizing  tone — 
and  she  did  it. 

It  seemed  that  she 
had  been  aroused  by  noises  down-stairs, 
and,  being  convinced  that  there  was  a  bur- 
glary in  progress,  like  the  brave  little 
woman  she  is,  had  gone  to  the  messenger 
call  and  summoned  the  police  ;  then,  put- 
ting on  her  wrapper  and  slippers,  quietly, 
if  not  calmly,  awaited  results. 

The  next  day  Alice  was  the  happy  pos- 
sessor of  a  silver  tea  urn. 


CC"- 


ig&m 


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THE  START. 


From  a  photograph  by  Mr.  A.  Machuron,  who,  as  the  representative  of  Mr.  Lachambre,  the  maker  of  the  balloon,  accom- 
panied Andree  to  Danes'  Island  and  assisted  him  in  making  his  start.    Reproduced  from  the  Paris  "  Illustration." 


LETTERS    FROM    THE    ANDREE    PARTY. 

THE  BALLOON  EXPEDITION  TO  THE  POLE.— AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  START  BY 
ANDR^E'S  FELLOW-VOYAGER,  NILS  STRINDBERG.— LETTERS  RELATING  TO 
THE    EXPEDITION    FROM    STRINDBERG'S    FATHER. 


ON  the  nth  of  last  July,  one  Sunday 
afternoon,  S.  A.  Andree,  with  two 
companions,  Nils  Strindberg  and  Knut 
Fraenkel,  ascended  from  Danes'  Island  in 
the  balloon  "  Ornen  "  (The  Eagle)  and 
sailed  away  northward,  hoping  by  this  un- 
tried means  to  reach  the  North  Pole.  Dar- 
ing even  to  foolhardiness  as  Andr£e's  proj- 
ect may  well  seem,  it  had  been  very  coolly 
and  prudently  matured  and  systematically 
prepared  for.  Andree  was  born  in  Sweden 
October  18,  1854,  and  is  now,  therefore, 
forty-three  years  old.  He  is  a  carefully 
educated  mechanical  engineer  and  man  of 
science.  From  1886  to  1889  he  filled  a 
chair  in  the  leading  Swedish  school  of 
technology  ;  he  passed  the  winter  of 
1882-1883  in  Spitzbergen,  as  a  member 
of  a  Swedish  meteorological  expedition, 
directing    experiments    and    observations 


in  atmospheric  electricity;  and  he  has 
held  for  some  years  an  important  engi- 
neering post  under  the  Swedish  govern- 
ment. In  1876,  while  on  his  way  to 
America,  to  serve  the  Swedish  exhibitors 
at  the  Centennial  Exhibition,  he  was  im- 
pressed with  the  seeming  regularity  of  the 
trade  winds,  and  thus  was  led  to  consider 
the  possibility  of  balloon  voyages  across 
the  Atlantic.  His  coming  to  America 
augmented  also  in  another  way  his  inter- 
est in  ballooning.  In  a  little  speech 
spoken  by  him  into  a  gramophone,  for 
use  at  a  Swedish  Aid  Society's  fair  hold- 
ing in  Brooklyn  while  he  was  preparing  for 
his  journey  to  the  Pole,  Mr.  Andree  said: 

11  It  is  a  great  pleasure  for  me  to  be  able  to  con- 
tribute to  the  Swedish  Aid  Society's  Fair.  I  have 
been  in  America  myself,  and  have  experienced  how 
hard  it  is  to  be  without  work.     I  was  glad  many  times 


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LETTERS  FROM   THE  ANDR&E  PARTY. 


to  make  my  living  by  wielding  a  broom.     In  spite  ninety-seven  feet  through  from  top  to  bot- 

of  that    I  have  many  pleasant  recollections  from  that  tomjand,   at   the  widest   part,    sixty-seven 

time,  because   I   learned  a  great  deal  while  staying  „  , A  '  ' .    ..   /■      .    tu^^u    r«-sxm    <,\a~  *~ 

there.     It  was  there    I  met  the  old  aeronaut  John  a»d   a  quarter   feet   through    from   Side   to 

Wise  from  Philadelphia,  and  it  was  there  I  got  the  side.     After  the  failure  to  make  a  start  in 

first  lesson  in  the  manufacturing  of  balloons.     For  1896,    Andr£e   decided    to    enlarge  it,    and 

it  was  carried 
back  to  Paris, 
cut  in  two  at 
the  middle,  and 
an  additional 
section  inserted 
about  three  and 
a  quarter  feet 
high.  The  per- 
pendicular di- 
ameter was  thus 
increased  by 
about  that 
much,  but  the 
horizontal  di- 
a  meter  re- 
mained as  be- 
fore. By  this 
enlargement 
the  volume  of 
the  balloon  was 
increased  10,- 
600  cubic  feet, 
becoming  in  all 
170,000  cubic 
feet.  It  is  made 
He  estimated  that    of  silk — three  thicknesses  through  the  up- 


me  is  America, 
therefore,  indeed 
memorable,  and 
the  Americans  can 
rest  assured  that  I 
should  like  very 
much,  if  I  could, 
to  visit  them  with 
my  balloon  via  the 
North  Pole." 

Early  in  1895 
Mr.  Andr^e 
laid  his  ideas 
for  a  balloon 
expedition  into 
the  Arctic,  then 
pretty  well 
matured,  be- 
fore the  Swed- 
ish Academy  of 
Science.  Later 
in  the  same 
year  he  pre- 
sented them  in 
England  before 
the  Interna- 
tional Geo- 
graphical  Congress 


A.   S.    ANDR&E. 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  Florman,  Stockholm. 


he  would  require  for  his  project  a  little    per  two-thirds,  and  two  through  the  lower 
over  $36,000.     In  time  the  money  was  pro-    third,  all  varnished  twice  over,  inside  and 


out.  Over  all  the  seams 
are  laid  protecting  strips, 
and  to  doubly  insure  tight- 
ness these  were  varnished 
at  the  edges,  just  before 
the  start,  with  a  varnish 
especially  devised  for  this 
use.  There  are  two  valves 
about  half  way  up  the  bal- 
loon, nearly,  but  not  quite, 
opposite  each  other;  and 
there  is  a  third  at  the  bot- 
tom. The  latter  works 
automatically;  the  others 
are  controlled  by  ropes 
attached  to  them  on  the 
inside  and  coming  out  of 
the  balloon  at  the  bottom 
beside  the  third. 

The  balloon  is  encased 
in  a  heavy  netting  of 
hemp,  woven  above,  with 
much  intricacy,  of  384  sep- 
arate ropes,  and  ending 
by  M.  Lachambre,  the  well-known  balloon-  below  in  forty-eight  '*  suspension  "  ropes, 
maker  of  Paris,  at  an  original  cost  of  $10,-  to  which  is  attached  what  is  known  as 
000.     The  balloon  proper  was  originally   the  "  bearing-ring."     This  ring  is  a  part 


vided,  mainly  by  the  gen- 
erosity of  Mr.  Alfred 
Noble,  who  died,  however, 
before  Andr£e  could  make 
his  start;  Baron  Oscar 
Dickson,  who  died  soon 
after  the  start;  and  the 
King  of  Sweden.  Andr£e 
had  now  been  studying 
balloons  with  great  care 
for  some  years.  He  had 
himself  made  a  number  of 
ascensions,  and  he  had  had 
some  very  thrilling  and 
dangerous  adventures. 
With  the  money  he  required 
made  secure,  he  set  about 
the  construction  of  a  bal- 
loon especially  suited  to 
his  purpose. 

THE    BALLOON. 

The  M  Ornen  "  was  built 


NILS     STRINDBEKG,     ONE     OF     ANDREVb 
TWO   COMPANIONS   ON   THE    VOYAGE. 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  Florman, 
Stockholm. 


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LETTERS  FROM   THE  ANDR^E  PARTY. 


4i3 


of  great  importance;  it  is  to  the  balloon 
much  what  the  keel  is  to  a  ship.  It  is 
about  seven  and  a  half  yards  in  circum- 
ference, is  made  of  wood,  and  is  braced 
with  cross-bars. 

To  the  bearing-ring  is  attached  the  car, 
or  basket,  by  six  ropes,  each  about  one 
and  a  fifth  inches  in  diam- 
eter. These  ropes  are 
knitted  into  the  wall  of  the 
car,  and  fastened  securely 
at  the  bottom  of  it.  Above 
the  car  they  are  encircled 
and  braced  by  five  hori- 
» zontal  ropes,  equidistant 
from  each  other,  which 
thus  form  a  series  of  guard- 
rails. Above  these,  about 
six  and  a  half  feet  from 
the  roof  of  the  car,  is  yet 
another;  it  is  much  shorter, 
and  draws  the  suspending 
ropes  into  a  circle  of  about 
half  the  diameter  of  that 
made  by  the  lower  ones. 

The  car  is  cylindrical  in 
form,  about  six  and  a  half 
feet  in  diameter  and  five 
in  depth.  It  is  of  wicker, 
woven  over  a  frame  of  chestnut  wood. 
Iron  and  steel  were  avoided  in  its  con- 
struction, lest  they  might  disturb  the  action 
of  the  magnetic  instruments  with  which 
the  balloon  is  equipped.  At  one  side,  on 
the  lower  edge,  the  car  is  sheared,  or 
beveled,  away,  in  order  that  on  landing  it 
may  strike  more  gently  and  not  be  over- 


KNVT    FRARNKEL, 
TWO  COMPANIONS  ON   THE   VOYAGE. 


turned.  Well  up  in  the  wall  of  the  car 
are  two  small  windows  closed  with  glass, 
and  near  the  bottom  are  two  openings 
closed  with  wood,  while  through  the  roof 
is  a  trap-door.  The  whole  car  is  covered 
with  tarpaulin. 

The  interior  of  the  car  is  chiefly  for  rest 
and  retirement.     The  place 
for  work  and  observation 
is  the  roof.     Here  is  erected 
a  sort  of  swinging  gallery, 
free  at  the  bottom,  so  that 
it    may  remain    horizontal 
under  the  tip  of    the  bal- 
loon,  and    shielded   some- 
what from  the  weather  by 
a  curtain  of  tarpaulin.     In 
this    gallery    were    placed 
the  scientific  instruments: 
thermometers,  barometers, 
cameras,  and  so  on — a  full 
equipment;    and   here  two 
of    the    aeronauts     would 
keep  an  outlook  and  man- 
age the  balloon,  while  the 
third  took  his  rest   in  the 
one  of  andree's      car  below.     A  sleeping-bag 
(a  hair-mattress  encased  in 
reindeer  skin)  occupied  the 
middle  of  the  car;  and  all  about,  in  in- 
genious compartments,  were  stored  books, 
maps,  instruments,  toilet  articles,  kitchen 
utensils,  arms,  ammunition,  and  what  not. 
The  main  places  of  storage,   however, 
were    the    bearing-ring,    which    with    its 
cross-braces  formed  a  sort  of  garret  floor 
whereon  were  stowed   various   tools   and 


DANES'    GATE,   NEAR  WHICH   THE   ASCENSION   WAS   MADE. 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Hasselblad,  Goteborg,  photographers  of  the  Andree  Expedition. 

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LETTERS  FROM   THE  ANDR&E  PARTY. 


UNLOADING   THE   BALLOON    FROM   THE   SHIP   AT   DANES'    ISLAND. 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Hassclblad,  Goteborg,  photographers  of  the  Andree  Expedition. 


implements,  such  as  shovels,  anchors,  and 
reserve  ropes;  and  the  spaces  between  the 
forty-eight  suspension  ropes  above  the 
bearing-ring.  Securely  hung  in  these 
spaces  were  forty-eight  large,  strong  cloth 
sacks,  divided  into  numerous  compart- 
ments. In  twelve  were  stowed  sledges, 
boats,  sail-yards,  and  kindred  articles;  in 
thirty-six  were  stored  provisions. 

andr£e's  provisions. 

AndreVs  store  of  provisions,  since  his 
fate  became  so  much  of  a  mystery,  has 
grown  to  be  a  subject  of  great  interest. 
Thousands  of  letters,  from  all  parts  of" 
the  world,  have  gone  to  the  Academy  of 
Science  at  Stockholm  asking  about  it; 
and  finally,  in  order  to  satisfy  public  cu- 
riosity, King  Oscar  of  Sweden  requested 
Dr.  Beauvais  of  Copenhagen,  head  of  the 
house  that  supplied  Andree,  to  make  a  re- 
port on  the  amount  of  provisions  he  car- 
ried. Dr.  Beauvais  has  just  reported  as 
follows: 

44  The  Andree  expedition  has  provisions  for  nine 
months.  All  the  boxes  in  which  the  conserved  food 
is  kept  were  made  of  copper,  as  iron  would  have  had 
a  disastrous  effect  on  the  magnetic  instruments  car- 
ried by  the  expedition.  To  occupy  as  little  space  as 
possible  they  were  made  square  instead  of  round. 
The  food  consists  of  every  kind  of  steaks,  sausages, 
hams,  fish,  chickens,  game,  vegetables,  and  fruit. 
If  these  provisions  have  been  saved,  together  with 


the  food  which  the  explorers  can  procure  through 
fishing  and  hunting,  they  have  sufficient  provisions 
to  last  them  two  years. 

* '  The  expedition  is  also  furnished  with  a  new  kind 
of  lozenges  of  concentrated  lemon  juice.  This  is  the 
first  time  these  have  been  used  by  Polar  expeditions, 
and  it  is  expected  they  will  absolutely  prevent  every 
attack  of  scurvy. 

44  Finally,  the  expedition  is  provided  with  twenty- 
five  kilos  [about  fifty-five  pounds]  of  thin  chocolate 
cakes,  mixed  with  pulverized  pemmican.  To  pre- 
serve this  food  against  dampness  it  is  packed  in 
pergament,  covered  with  stannine,  a  brittle  metal 
composed  of  tin,  sulphur,  and  copper,  and  inclosed 
in  air-tight  boxes.  Nansen's  expedition  was  also 
provided  with  this  food,  and  it  was  found  to  be  both 
nourishing  and  pleasant  to  the  taste." 

Even  a  means  of  cooking  was  not  lack- 
ing from  the  outfit.  A  stove  about  ten  by 
seventeen  inches,  heated  by  a  spirit  lamp, 
was  carried  along;  and,  in  order  to  avoid 
the  danger  of  using  it  near  the  gas  of  the 
balloon,  it  was  so  devised  and  placed  that 
it  could  be  lighted  and  operated  hanging 
twenty-five  feet  below  the  roof  of  the  car. 

To  aid  in  steering  and  controlling  the 
balloon,  Andree  devised  an  apparatus  of 
sails  and  guide-ropes — three  sails,  pre- 
senting to  the  wind  when  full-spread  a  sur- 
face of  8oo  square  feet ;  and  three  guide- 
ropes,  one  about  1,017  feet  long,  another 
about  1,042  feet,  and  the  third  about 
1,205  feet-  The  ropes  trail  from  the  bear- 
ing-ring, and  are  attached  to  it  in  such 
wise  that  they  can  be  shifted  from  point 
to  point;  and  by  thus  shifting  them,  the 


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415 


SLEDDING  THK    BALLOON    FROM   THE   SHIP  TO   LAND    AT   DANKS'    ISLAND. 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Hasselblad,  Goteborg,  photographers  of  the  Andree  Expedition. 


theory  at  least  is  that  there  can  be  a  cor-  bamboo  spars  projecting  from  the  bear- 
responding  shift  made  in  the  course  of  the  ing-ring,  and  one  above  the  bearing-ring 
balloon.      The  sails  are  hung  two   from    between  the  suspension-ropes. 


LANDING  THK    BALLOON   AT   DANKS     ISLAND. 


From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Haiaelblad,  Goteborg,  photographer!  of  the  Andree  Expedition- 
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4 16 


LETTERS  FROM    THE  ANDR&E  PARTY. 


VIEW   OF  THE   BALLOON-HOUSE   AND  THE   BALLOON. 

Part  of  the  walls  of  the  balloon-house  have  been  torn  away,  in  order  to  let  the  balloon  out  at 
the  ascension.  From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Hasselblad,  GGteborg,  photographers  of  the 
Andree  Expedition. 

AndreVs  first  design  was  to  sail  in  the 
summer  of  1896.  The  balloon  and  all 
stores  and  appliances  were  conveyed  to 
Danes'  Island;  a  balloon-house  was 
erected,  and  engines  set  up  for  producing 
hydrogen  gas  and  inflating  the  balloon. 
All,  indeed,  was  made  ready;  but  the  south 
wind  they  wanted  for  the  start  did  not 
come.  They  waited  for  it  until  the  season 
had  advanced  too  far  for  a  safe  venture, 
and  then  they  came  back  to  Sweden.  In 
May,  1897,  they  returned,  and  by  July  1st 
again  had  everything  ready  for  a  start. 
And  again  the  south  wind  refused  to  come. 
They  had  to  wait  ten  days  for  it.  We 
have  a  very  interesting  view  of  the  party 
at  this  trying  time,  as  well  as  a  full  ac- 
count of  the  work  they  had  had  to  do  in 
getting  ready,  in  the  following  letter, 
written  by  AndreVs  companion,  Nils 
Strindberg,  to  his  brother  in  New  York 
and  not  before  published: 

LETTER  FROM  NILS  STRINDBERG. 

"  Yes,  now  the  folks  at  home  believe  us 
to  be  ascended.  From  Anna  I  had  no 
letter,  and  papa  was  very  doubtful  about 
his  letter  reaching  me.  But  alas  !  it  is 
true  that  we  have  not  yet  departed.  As 
you  have  probably  heard  through  the  pa- 
pers or  letters  from  home,  we  anchored 
the  30th  of  May  in  '  Virgo  Harbor,'  after 
having  been  detained  by  the  ice  in  Danes' 


tionally    mild 
winter.      There 
is    considerably 
less    snow    this 
year  than    last, 
which  still   was 
milder  than  the 
average  winter. 
The    balloon- 
house    stood 
when    we   ar- 
rived,   but   was 
so  damaged  by 
the     winter 
storms    that    it 
was     on    the 
verge    of     col- 
lapsing.    But 
one     must     re- 
member that  it 
was  only  calcu- 
lated to  remain 
for     one     sum- 
mer.    With  the 
aid     of     tackle 
and     buttresses 
it    was    soon   fixed,    and    June    14th    we 
brought   the    balloon    from   the    '  Virgo ' 
to  the  balloon-house.      On   the   16th  the 
balloon    was   stretched   out  on   the  floor, 
which  had  been  covered  with  thick  coarse 
felt.     The  '  Virgo  '   left  Danes'   Island  on 
the   16th.      And  now  we  had  our  hands 
full  to  make  the  balloon  tight  and  to  in- 
flate it.     To  make  it  tight  we  had  to  var- 
nish all  the  seams  on  the  outside  as  well  as 
the  inside.     In  order  to  varnish  the  inside 
the  balloon   is  partly  inflated  with  air  by 
a  large  bellows,  and  the  workmen  crawl  in 
through  the  lower  opening.      Svedenborg, 
Fraenkel,    Machuron,    and    myself    take 
turns  in  the  superintending  of  the  inside 
varnishing.      The  interior  of  the  balloon 
is  a   very  strange  sight.      It  looks  like  a 
low    vault    of    stone    masonry. 
There  we  were,   eight  men,   each  with  a 
pot  of  varnish  and  a  brush,  and  varnished 
every  seam  of  the  upper  half  of  the  balloon. 
The  varnish  makes  the  air  very  bad,  and 
after  some  time  one  begins  to  feel  a  pain 
in  one's  eyes  as  of  onions. 

"On  Saturday,  the  17th,  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  hydrogen  ap- 
paratus was  started  and  put  in  connection 
with  the  balloon,  and  at  twelve  o'clock, 
midnight,  between  the  22d  and  23d,  it  was 
inflated.  Then  it  had  to  be  tested  as  to 
its  tightness  and  the  principal  holes  fixed. 
This  was  done  by  a  new  method  invented 
by  Mr.  Stake.      It  is  simply  to  allow  the 


Gate.      It  seems  to  have  been  an  excep-    few  particles  of  hydrogen  sulphide,  which 

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LETTERS  FROM   THE  ANDRAe  PARTY. 


41? 


are  always  pro- 
duced with  the 
hydrogen,  to 
accompany  the 
hydrogen  into 
the  balloon.  If 
pieces  of  muslin 
saturated  with  a 
solution  of  ace- 
tate of  lead  are 
put  on  the  bal- 
loon, the  small- 
est leakage  may 
be  discovered 
by  the  escaping 
hydrogen  sul- 
phide, which 
causes  the  mus- 
lin to  turn  black. 
This  method 
proved  to  be 
very  practical, 
and  we  discov- 
ered several 
small  holes 
which  could  be 
operations   one 


TAKING   DOWN  THB   FRONT   WALL  OF  THE   BALLOON-HOUSE. 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Hasselblad,  GUteborg,  photographers  of  the  Andree  Expedition. 


fixed.        During    these 
walks   around  on   top  of 
the  balloon,  which  only  yields  impercep- 
tibly.    .     .     . 

"  After  these  preparations  we  have  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  the  balloon  in  pretty 
good  shape;  at  all  events  much  better  than 
last  year.  It  loses  daily  about  forty-five 
kilos  [a  fraction 
over  ninety-nine 
pounds]  in  carry- 
ing capacity;  but 
as  we  have  possi- 
bilities of  throw- 
ing out  i,7ookilos 
[about  3,748 
pounds]  of  bal- 
last, we  will  easily 
float  for  more 
than  a  month. 

"  We  do  not  in- 
tend to  start  until 
we  get  favorable 
wind,  to  avoid  be- 
ing pushed  right 
back  to  Spitzber- 
gen  by  contrary 
winds.  If  we  get 
the  right  wind,  we 
ought  to  be  able 
to  go  some  dis- 
tance in  these 
thirty  days.  With 
a  fairly  strong 
wind  we  will  make 
from  ten  to  twenty 


knots  an  hour,  and  will  reach  the  Pole,  or 
a  point  near  to  it,  in  from  thirty  to  sixty 
hours.  Once  having  reached  the  northern- 
most point,  we  don't  care  where  the  wind 
carries  us.  Of  course  we  would  rather  land 
in  Alaska,  near  the  Mackenzie  River,  where 
we  would  very  likely  meet  American  whal- 
ers, who  are  favorably  disposed  toward  the 


TAKING   DOWN  THE  FRONT  WALL  OF  THE  BALLOON-HOrSE. 


From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H. 


Hasselblad,  Gttteborg,  photographers  of  the  Andrte 
Expedition. 


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LETTERS  FROM  THE  ANDR&E  PARTY. 


GETTING  ON  TOP  OF  THK  BALLOON  TO  LOOK  FOR  LEAKS. 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Hasselblad,  Gflteborg,  photographers  of  the  Andrle  Expedition. 


expedition.  It  would  really  be  a  glorious 
thing  to  succeed  so  well.  But  even  if  we 
were  obliged  to  leave  the  balloon  and  pro- 
ceed over  the  ice,  we  shouldn't  consider 
ourselves  lost.  We  have  sledges  and  pro- 
visions for  four  months,  guns  and  ammu- 
nition; hence  are  just  as  well  equipped  as 
other  expeditions  as  far  as  that  is  con- 
cerned. I  would  not  object  to  such  a 
trip.  The  worst  thing  is  that  the  folks  at 
home  will  feel  uneasy  if  we  don't  appear 
in  the  fall,  but  are  obliged  to  spend  the 
winter  in  the  Arctic  regions.  My  body  is 
now  in  such  good  condition,  and  I  have 
got  so  accustomed  to  the  Arctic  life,  that  a 
winter  up  here  don't  seem  terrible  at  all. 
One  gets  used  to  everything.  But.  the 
best  thing  would  be  to  come  home  in  the 
fall.     .     .     . 

"  Well,  I  hope  we  shall  soon  have  favor- 
able winds.  On  the  8th  of  July  we  had  a 
strong  southerly  wind,  but  then  it  was  too 
strong.  It  was  almost  a  gale,  and  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  ascend  without 
damage  to  the  balloon.  Later  it  shifted 
over  to  the  west  too  much.  If  we  don't  get 
a  southerly  wind  before  the  15th  of  July, 
we  intend  to  try  with  a  southeasterly,  to 
be  carried  north  of  Greenland,  and  there 


possibly  utilize  the  south  winds  which, 
according  to  Lieutenant  Peary,  are  prev- 
alent during  summer. 

"Well,  good-by  now,  brother;  just 
wonder  if  we  will  meet  next  time  in  New 
York.  Send  my  love  to  Uncle  and  Aunt 
Outad  and  the  boy,  also  to  the  Ellnrod 
family.  Tell  them  that  nowadays  I  write 
to  nobody  but  my  fianete.  Got  no  time 
for  more. 

"  Your  brother, 

"  Nils. 

"The  'Lofoten,'  which  arrived  this 
morning  at  seven  o'clock,  has  left  already 
at  ten;  so  this  will  have  to  go  by  the  next 

mail." 

THE    START. 

When  the  members  of  the  party  arose 
on  the  morning  of  July  nth,  they  sent  up 
a  joyous  cry  of  "  A  strong,  steady  wind 
from  the  south!  "  What  followed  this 
bestirring  announcement  has  been  very 
well  described  by  one  of  the  party,  and 
we  cannot  do  better  than  to  quote  his  ac- 
count: 

"  After  a  short  discussion  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  nth,  Mr.  Andr£e  and  his  corn- 


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LETTERS  FROM    THE  ANDR^E  PARTY. 


419 


EXAMINING  THE  BALLOON   FOR   LEAKS. 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Hasselblad,  Gttteborg,  photographers  of  the  Andree  Expedition. 


panions  decided  to  ascend  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. Now  followed  some  hours  of  great 
activity.  Everyone  felt  perceptibly  the 
importance  of  the  moment,  and  all  dem- 
onstrated this  in  an  excellent  way. 
Through  the  roaring  storm,  which  so 
powerfully  pressed  against  the  balloon- 
house  that  it  cracked  and  squeaked  in  all 
its  joints,  Mr.  AndreVs  powerful  voice 
was  heard,  now  from  the  outside,  now 
from  the  inside,  and  now  again  from  the 
top  of  the  colossal  building,  giving  orders 
and  superintending  the  last  preparations 
for  this  long-planned  journey,  which  had 
cost  so  much  effort  and  so  much  anxiety 
and  for  which  so  much  was  risked.  All 
that  was  invested  in  the  undertaking  could 
still  be  lost  at  the  very  start. 

"  The  wind  is  roaring,  and  the  gigantic 
balloon  pulls  and  pulls  at  its  anchorage, 
sometimes  with  threatening  force.  Heavy 
clouds  come  tearing  down  from  the  moun- 
tain tops;  a  sudden  gush  of  wind  strikes 
the  house,  and  it  crashes  more  than  ever. 
One  of  the  poles  at  the  upper  balcony,  to 
which  canvas  is  fastened  for  protection 
against   the  wind,   yields  to  the  pressure 


and  falls  over  the  balloon,  and  might  cause 
the  whole  expedition  to  come  to  naj^ht, 
did  not  quick  hands  check  it  in  its  fall. 
The  whole  thing  seems  to  hang  on  a  hair. 
But  Andree  does  not  seem  at  all  excited. 
He  takes  in  every  detail  of  the  prepara- 
tions, and  gives  his  orders,  which  are  car- 
ried out  rapidly  and  carefully. 

"  In  about  an  hour's  time  the  north  wall 
of  the  house  is  torn  partly  down,  and  all 
hands  are  called  to  assist  in  raising  and 
managing  the  balloon.  Finally  there  is 
nothing  left  to  do  but  attach  the  car — an 
extremely  difficult  job,  as  the  raised  bal- 
loon sways  to  and  fro  more  than  before. 
But  even  this  is  accomplished  success- 
fully, and  now,  about  three  and  one-half 
hours  after  the  work  began,  our  three 
daring  countrymen  are  ready  to  start  on 
their  hazardous  journey.  A  few  moments 
for  the  last  farewells,  and  Andree  with 
his  two  companions,  Nils  Strindberg  and 
Knut  Fraenkel,  jumps  aboard  the  '  Or- 
nen,'  and  orders  are  given  to  cut  the  re- 
taining ropes.  The  captain  of  the '  Svensk- 
sund,'  Count  Ehrensvard,  proposes  a 
1  long  life '  for  Mr.  Andree,  which  is  given 


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420 


LETTERS  FROM   THE  ANDR&E  PARTY. 


with  four  hearty  hurrahs.  Andr£e  and 
his  companions  answer  with,  '  Long  live 
old  Sweden! ' 

"  As  the  last  ropes  are  loosened  I  hurry 
up  a  hill  behind  the  balloon-house  to  take 
photographs  of  the  ascending  balloon. 
Just  as  I  reach  my  elevated  position,  the 
immense  balloon  slowly  and  majestically 
rises  out  of  its  prison.  On  account  of  its 
undulations  the  lower  part  catches  on 
something  connected  with  the  house,  but 
slips  off  again  the  next  moment,  and  the 
balloon  rises  to  between  600  and  700  feet, 
at  the  same  time  moving  in  a  northeasterly 
direction  out  over  Danes'  Gate.  But  sud- 
denly it  drops  down  again,  in  a  course 
straight  toward  the  sea,  being  depressed 
by  a  current  of  air  that  has  descended  sud- 
denly upo:i  it  from  the  mountain  top,  and 
also  being  somewhat  pulled  down  by  the 
catching  of  the  guide-ropes.  The  car 
touches  the  waves;  but  like  a  giant  ball  the 
balloon  rebounds,  and  when  some  sand- 
bags are  thrown  out  (nine  bags,  each 
weighing  about  forty-two  pounds),  it  rises 
until  it  reaches  a  height  of  about  3,000 
feet.  Then  flying  free,  it  continues  at  the 
height  of  about  3,000  feet,  first  in  a 
northeasterly  direction  over  Danes*  Gate 
and  toward  the  southern  cape  of  Amster- 
dam Island.    This  it  passes,  and  then  turns 


toward  the  north,  keeping  over  the  sound 
between  Amsterdam  Island  and  Fogelsang. 
After  a  while  it  again  turns  toward  the 
northeast,  and  passes  the  northern  cape  of 
Fogelsang.  Then  it  disappears  in  a  cloud. 
But  in  a  short  while  it  reappears  in  a  north- 
northeasterly  direction,  between  Fogelsang 
and  Cloven  Cliff;  then  changes  toward  the 
west,  and  finally  disappears  altogether — 
about  an  hour  after  the  ascension." 

LETTERS    FROM    STRINDBERG's    FATHER. 

Nils  Strindberg's  brother  in  New  York 
received  from  his  father,  in  Sweden,  a 
number  of  letters  written  about  the  time 
the  expedition  started  and  a  little  after, 
that  give  interesting  information  regarding 
it  and  its  members.  We  print  here  the 
important  parts  of  these  letters,  no  por- 
tion of  which  has  been  published  before: 

"On  Saturday  [May  8th]  we  have  a 
few  of  Nils's  friends  for  dinner  to  say 
good-by.  But  wc  are  not  able  to  have 
Andr£e  with  us,  because  his  mother  died 
a  few  days  ago  from  paralysis  of  the  heart, 
and  he  is  now  down  to  her  funeral." 

"  Nils  was  calm  all  the  time  [May  15th] 
except  when  he  was  leaving  the  house, 
when  he  burst  out  weeping  for  a  few  mo- 
ments.    He  is  indeed  a  man,  for  he  left 


THE  DAV  OF  THE  START.      ANDRBE,  STKINDBERC,  AND    FRAENKBL   INSIDE  THE   BALLOON-HOUSE   AFTER  THE   BALLOON   MA6 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Hawelblad,  Gotcborg,  photographers  of  the  Andree  Expedition. 


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LETTERS  FROM   THE  ANDR&E  PARTY. 


421 


the  dearest  he  has  on  earth  [his  fianc/e] 
to  carry  out  a  great  idea,  and  therefore 
I  do  think  we  shall  see  him  back  again, 
after  a  successful  trip.  Andr£e  was  as 
calm  as  a  summer  sea.*' 

"It  was  so  strange  [when  a  picture  of 
the  ascension  reached  them] ;  all  the  time 
one  could  imagine  the  '  Ornen  '  soaring 
away  over  the  ice  and  snow  towards  the 
unknown — to  land  where  ?  and  when  ?  and 
how  ?     And  then  ?" 

"  The  day  after  Anna  [Miss  Chaslier, 
Strindberg'syfa«r/<?]  accompanied  me  into 
the  city  to  meet  Svedenborg.  Of  course 
it  was  very  interesting  to  hear  eye-wit- 
nesses relate  the  story,  although  not  much 
was  told  that  had  not  been  in  the  papers. 
Both  Anna  and  myself  had  letters  from 
Nils  written  the  morning  of  the  ascension- 
day:  calm  and  sure  as  always.  It  was 
Nils  who  called  out  '  Long  live  old  Swe- 
den '  when  the  balloon  rose  out  of  the 
house.  The  last  words  Andr£e  was  heard 
to  utter  were  '  What  was  that  ? '  when  the 
balloon  caught  somewhere  for  a  moment. 
Svedenborg  had  saved,  and  presented  to 
Anna,  the  sand-bag  Nils  cut  off  at  the 
start.  I  got  another.  Anna  also  got  the 
pigeon,  in  a  small  cage,  with  the  message. 


It  was  brought  out  in  the  country  and 
well  cared  for;  but  when  we  moved  to 
the  city,  she  followed  my  advice  and  had 
it  killed  and  stuffed — and  soon  she  will 
have  it  back  in  flying  position  as  a  perma- 
nent souvenir  from  the  dearest  she  has, 
poor  thing." 

"  And  so  one  has  to  go  on  and  hope  for 
a  year  at  least;  and  even  after  that  don't 
draw  too  unfavorable  conclusions,  for  they 
may  have  long  distances  to  walk  before 
they  reach  inhabited  places." 

"  At  present  I  read  Nansen's  book  with 
great  interest,  and  in  my  thoughts  I  place 
*  the  three '  in  the  same  or  similar  situa- 
tions. Since  they  have  rifles  and  sufficient 
ammunition  and  the  necessaries  for  a  jour- 
ney over  the  ice  and  a  stay  over  the  winter, 
I  suppose  they  can  do  it,  although  with 
difficulties  to  overcome." 

"  Andr£e  and  Nils,  whom  I  know  best, 
are  such  characters  that,  if  possible,  they 
make  the  impossible  possible;  and  they 
have  surely  intelligence  enough  to  figure 
out  the  best  way  of  getting  out  of  their 
emergencies.  Andr^e's  ideas  and  Nils's 
Anna  are  two  mighty  levers  and  self-pro- 
tections, and  the  love  of  life  will  help 
along  too." 


ANDREB,    FRAKNKBL,    AND   OTHERS   WATCHING  THE    BALLOON   AS   IT  SWAYS   UNDKR   THE    STRONG    BLASTS  OF    WIND   ON   THE    DAY 

OF  THE   START. 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Hasselblad,  Gttteborg,  photographers  of  the  Andree  Expedition. 


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WHERE   IS  ANDR^E? 

By  Walter  Wellman. 

ON  the  morning  of  July  15,  1897,  four       On  opening  the  envelope,  no  message 
days  after  Andr^e  started  from  Danes'    in  shorthand  was  found,  but  one  in  ordi- 
Island  in  his  balloon  "Omen"  (The  Eagle),    nary  writing  was  found,  which,  translated, 

"July  13,  12.30  p.m. 
' ;  longitude  150  5'  east.     Good 
io°  south.     All  well  on  board, 
reon  despatch. 

44  Andree." 

ing  was  Andr^e's,  and  the 
her  wings  the  identifying 
lat  had  been  placed,  before 
edition  started,  on  all  the 
that  Andree  took  with  him. 
;  can  be  no  doubt  of  the 
less  of  this  message.  But 
it,  no  word  or  trace  of 
has  been  vouchsafed  us 
left  Danes'  Island.  Late 
he  autumn  the  Swedish 
rnment  sent  the  steamer 
:toria"  into  the  North  to 
:h  for  the  aeronauts,  but 
A  CRO'  earch  was  fruitless. 

idr£e's    balloon    made   its 
n0pj,  it  at  Danes'  Island,  north- 

Nort  :st   Spitzbergen,   618   geo- 

pjge(  aphical  or  7 10  statute  miles 

rjggj  >m  the   North  Pole.     Ac- 

««A11  cording    to   the  reports 

ing  in  tuc  vinimy  ui  of  eye-witnesses  it  sailed 

SDitzbercen    and  was     SPECmENS  OF  THB  BUOYS  CARR,KD  BV  andrbb,  to     aloft   in   a   wind   which 
shot.       Atuched     by         «  =™.  MRAU...,  o,  ,^0.     was    blowing    from 

threads  to   a   tail- 
feather  of  the  pigeon  was  found 
a  small  tube,  or  envelope,  sealed 
at   one  end  with  wax.      On  the 
envelope  was  inscribed: 

44  From  AndreVs  Polar  Expedition  to 
the  4  Aftonbladet,'  Stockholm.  Open  the 
envelope  on  the  side,  and  take  out  two 
messages.  Telegraph  the  one  in  ordinary 
writing  to  the  '  Aftonbladet,'  and  send 
the  one  in  shorthand,  by  the  first  mail, 
to  the  same  newspaper." 

Editor's  Note.  —  Mr.  Walter  Wellman  or- 
ganized in  1894  the  Wellman  Polar  Expedi- 
tion, and  penetrated  to  latitude  8x°  15',  north 
of  Spitsbergen.  His  steamer,  the  "  Ragnvald 
Jarl,  was  crushed  in  the  ice  at  the  Seven 
Islands.  On  his  return  to  Europe  he  made  a 
thorough  inquiry  into  the  feasibility  of  employ- 
ing the  balloon  in  Arctic  exploration,  ana  had 
even  prepared,  in  conjunction  with  Godard  and 
Surcouf  of  Paris,  the  best  aeronautic  engineers 
in  the  world,  plans  for  an  expedition  similar  to 

MrdWHSlmYn<U  !^^J£^^«~  JSZIm  ANDREWS  SCIENTIFIC   INSTRUMENTS   AS  SET  UP    IN   THE   OBSERVATION   GAL- 

iwr.  wellman  is  now  preparing  a  new  expedi- 
tion, but  not  one  by  balloon.  lery  on  the  roof  of  the  car. 


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twenty  to  twenty-five  miles  an  hour  in  a 
northerly  direction,  a  little  east.  Notwith- 
standing the  friction  upon  the  surface  of 
the  ice  or  sea  of  the  trailing  guide-ropes 
with  which  Andr£e  hoped  to  keep  his  air- 
ship always  in  contact  with  the  earth,  the 
balloon  must  have  traveled  nearly  as  fast 
as  the  wind.  If  his  voyage  had  continued 
a  little  east  of  north,  at  a  speed  of  twenty 
miles  an  hour,  at  noon  the  second  day  out 


Professor  Eckholm,  who  would  have 
been  one  of  Andr£e's  fellow-voyagers 
had  the  expedition  started  in  1896,  and 
who  is  an  accomplished  meteorologist, 
has  advanced  a  rational  theory  to  account 
for  Andr^e's  lack  of  progress  northward 
during  the  first  two  days.  Gathering  the 
meager  weather  reports  made  by  captains 
of  such  sealing  sloops  as  were  in  the  vi- 
cinity,  Professor  Eckholm  suggests  that 


JUST   BEFORE  THE   START:    ALL   READY   TO  CUT   LOOSE. 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Hasselblad,  Gbieborg,  photographers  of  the  Andree  Expedition. 


he  would  have  found  himself  some  250 
miles  on  the  other  side  of  the  Pole,  which 
he  would  have  passed  at  a  distance  of  per- 
haps one  hundred  miles  on  his  left. 

But  the  pigeon  message  tells  a  different 
story.  At  noon  of  the  second  day  out, 
July  13th,  Andree  writes  that  he  had 
reached  latitude  820  2'  north,  and  longi- 
tude 150  5'  east.  In  other  words,  instead 
of  an  aerial  voyage  900  miles  or  more  to 
the  northward,  passing  near  the  Pole,  he 
was  then  only  145  geographical  miles  north 
and  45  miles  east  of  the  point  of  departure. 
Moreover,  at  the  hour  of  writing  his  mes- 
sage he  was  making  "  good  progress  east- 
ward, ten  degrees  south,1 '  instead  of  to  the 
north. 


the  wind  in  which  the  "  Omen  "  ascended 
was  part  of  a  cyclonic  or  whirling  storm, 
the  currents  moving  inward  toward  the 
center  of  the  area  of  low  barometric 
depression,  where  comparative  calm  pre- 
vailed;  Professor  Eckholm  assumes  that 
such  a  center  of  depression  existed  north- 
west of  Danes'  Island  and  that  there- 
fore the  balloon  was  borne  first  to  the 
north,  then  to  the  northwest  and  west,  and 
into  the  area  of  calms,  whence  it  emerged 
with  the  general  course  of  the  storm,  and 
began  its  flight  to  the  eastward.  This 
would  explain  the  movements  of  the  air- 
ship -during  the  forty-six  hours  which 
elapsed  between  the  ascension  and  the 
writing  of  Andrle's   message.     It  would 

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WHERE  IS  ANDR&E1 


THE   BALLOON   JUST  AT  THE   START,    SHOWING  THE   MOMENTARY    DEPRESSION    CAUSED    BY   THE   STRONG  WIND. 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Hasselblad,  Goteborg,  photographers  of  the  Andrew  Expedition. 

also  explain  the  "  good  progress  eastward,  Danes'  Island.  In  any  case,  the  storm 
ten  degrees  south."  But  there  is  room  then  blowing  appears  to  have  had  a  gen- 
for  doubt  that  the  storm  of  July  nth  to  eral  eastward  sweep,  and  we  have  a  right 
13th  was  severe  enough  to  take  on  the  to  assume  that  the  "  Omen  M  passed  east- 
characteristics  of  a  cyclone.  Meteorolog-  ward  fifty  or  sixty  miles  to  the  north  of 
ical  authorities  agree  that  only  the  heav-  the  Seven  Islands  of  Spitzbergen,  where 
iest  storms  show  this  rotary  movement.  the  pigeon  was  secured. 

When    Andr£e    wrote   at    noon  of  July        If  Professor  EckholnTs  theory  is  well 


13th,  "  good  pro- 
gress eastward, 
ten  degrees 
south,"  and  sent 
his  message  by 
the  third  pigeon, 
he  must  have 
meant  good  pro- 
gress in  that 
direction  since 
his  first  or  second 
pigeon  message 
was  despatched, 
indicating  that 
either  currents 
revolving  about 
a  center  of  low 
barometric  de- 
pression or  other 
adverse  wind 
movement  had, 
shortly  after  the 
ascension,  carried 
him  far  to  the 
westward     of 


t 


/ 


1 


SOME   SECONDS   AFTER  THE   START. 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Hasselblad,  GBteborg,  pho- 
tographers of  the  Andree  Expedition. 


based,  there  was, 
about  July  13th, 
another  center  of 
low  pressure  in 
the  neighborhood 
of  Franz  Josef 
Land.  Into  the 
rotary  sweep  of 
this  area  the 
"Omen"  may 
have  passed;  and 
in  that  case  it  was 
of  vital  impor- 
tance to  the  aero- 
nauts whether 
they  were  able  to 
remain  afloat  un- 
til the  movement 
of  the  storm  had 
carried  them  first 
southward  over 
the  open  or  partly 
ice-free  Barentz 
Sea  and  later 
northward    again 


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WHERE  IS  ANDR&E1 


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THE    LAST  SIGHT  OK  THE    UALLOON. 

From  a  photograph  by  G.  and  H.  Hassclblad,  Goleborg,  photographers  of  the  Andree  Expedition. 


to  Franz  Josef  .Land,  or  whether  they 
found  it  necessary  to  make  a  descent  into 
the  ocean  or  upon  the  loose  pack-ice 
which  is  found  upon  the  sea  southeast  of 
Spitzbergen.  Whether  it  be  assumed  that 
the  storm  took  on  the  character  of  a 
cyclone,  or  was  merely  a  strong,  straight- 
driving  wind,  there  is  an  area  of  something 
like  200,000  square  miles  in  which  it  is 
probable  the  voyagers  made  their  descent. 
This  region  may  be  said  roughly  to  com- 
prise a  part  of  the  Barentz  Sea,  between 
Spitzbergen  and  Nova  Zembla,  on  the 
south,  Franz  Josef  Land  and  the  Polar 
ocean  north  of  it  to  the  eighty-fifth  or 
eighty-sixth  parallel  of  latitude,  and  per- 
haps some  distance  eastward  toward  Si- 
beria. 

It  is  improbable  the  aeronauts  were 
driven  as  far  as  Siberia  or  Nova  Zembla. 
Had  they  reached  the  former  country  in 
July  last,  they  would  ere  this  have  been 
heard  from,  even  from  the  remotest 
parts.  If  they  had  reached  Nova  Zembla, 
their  chances  of  returning  to  civilization 
by  means  of  the  sealing  sloops  which  leave 
the  west  coast  of  that  land  as  late  as  Sep- 
tember would  have  been  good.  It  is  not 
likely  they  were  caught  in  adverse  cur- 
rents and  carried  back  to  Spitzbergen  or 
to  Greenland,  for  the  general  movement 
of  the  storm  was  to  the  east. 

There  are  three  probabilities  as  to  the 


approximate  point  of  descent,  each  strong 
enough  to  merit  attention.  The  first  of 
these  is  that  the  "Omen"  remained  in 
the  air  till  Franz  Josef  Land  was  reached. 
Once  over  this  land,  the  aeronauts  would 
be  able  to  distinguish  it  by  the  changed 
appearance  of  the  ice-sheet  beneath  them 
and  by  the  black  cliffs  at  the  edges  of  the 
fiords.  Here  Herr  Andree  may  have  be- 
come convinced  of  the  uselessness  of  wait- 
ing for  further  advance  toward  the  Pole, 
and  in  consequence  decided  to  descend. 
In  such  case,  and  if  the  descent  were  made 
in  safety,  the  voyagers  might  without  great 
trouble  make  their  way  to  Cape  Flora, 
about  the  eightieth  parallel,  where  Jack- 
son left  a  comfortable  house  and  ample 
supplies  for  a  wintering.  In  case  their 
descent  were  made  so  far  from  Cape  Flora 
that  they  were  unable  to  reach  the  Jack- 
son camp  before  the  winter  closed  in  upon 
them,  Andr£e  and  his  companions  might 
shoot  enough  bear,  walrus,  and  seal  to 
support  them  through  the  winter,  and 
throw  up  a  hut  to  live  in,  as  did  Nansen 
and  Johansen  in  the  same  region. 

The  second  probability  is  that  the 
"  Ornen  "  came  down  in  the  ocean  to  the 
southeast  of  Spitzbergen.  When  Herr 
Andrle  was  asked  a  few  days  before  his 
start  what  would  happen  if  they  descended 
in  the  sea,  the  adventurer  replied,  coolly, 
11  Drown." 


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WHERE  IS  ANDR&E? 


The  third  probabil- 
ity is  that  the  air-ship 
was  driven  by  the 
winds  far  to  the  east 
or  northward  of  Franz 
Josef  Land.  In  such 
case  the  explorers  are 
probably  lost.  Assum- 
ing that  they  safely 
reached  the  ice-sheet 
which  covers  the  Polar 
ocean,  saving  all  their 
supplies,  instruments, 
and  equipment,  this 
was  the  situation 
which  confronted 
them:  to  save  their 
lives  they  must  get  to 
the  land  within  eight 
weeks.  Out  upon  the 
Polar  pack  no  game 
can  be  had,  except  by 
rarest  good  luck  a 
stray  bear  comes  that 
way.  Andr£e  and  his 
men  had  with  them  provisions  for  but 
four  months.  With  this  supply  they 
could  live  till  Christmas,  but  in  order  to 
secure  food  with  which  to  survive  the  win- 
ter they  must  reach  the  land  by  the  end 
of  September  at  the  latest,  before  the  bear, 
seal,  and  walrus  had  disappeared.  The 
distance  which  they  could  travel  between 
the  probable  date  of  the 
descent  and  the  closing  in 
of  winter  may  be  estimated 
at  250  miles  at  the  great- 
est. In  August  and  early 
September  the  condition  of 
the  ice-pack  is  at  its  worst 
for  sledging,  being  soft  and 
slushy,  with  many  pools 
half  filled  with  sludge 
through  which  a  boat  can- 
not be  rowed  and  over 
which  a  man  cannot  walk. 

But  were  Andree  and  his 
comrades  able  to  descend 
to  the  land  or  to  the  frozen 
surface  of  the  sea  without 
injury  to  themselves  and 
without  loss  of  their  pre- 
cious food  and  equipment  ? 
It  all  depends  upon  the 
state  of  the  wind.  In  light 
airs  an  aeronaut  may  de- 
scend to  earth  without 
much  trouble  or  danger, 
but  a  descent  in  a  smart 
wind  is  another  story. 
When  the  car  strikes   the         see  pack  422. 


THE     PIGEON     THAT     BROUGHT     THE     ONE     MESSAGE 
THUS   PAR   RECEIVED    PROM    ANDREE. 


FACSIMILE     OP     THE     MESSAGE     RECEIVED 
BY    CARRIER-PIGEON, 
AND     OF    THE     ENVEL- 
OPE    IN    WHICH     IT    WAS  CONTAINED. 


PROM      ANDREE 
JULY    22,    1897, 


earth  and  its  weight 
is  taken  from  the  bal- 
loon, the  great  ball 
rebounds  mightily  and 
is  up  and  away.  As 
more  and  more  gas 
escapes  through  the 
open  valve  it  comes 
down  again,  only  to 
repeat  its  upward  leap, 
though  with  dimin- 
ished force.  Hence, 
often,  their  safety  de- 
pends on  whether  the 
aeronauts  are  able  to 
cut  their  car  loose  be- 
fore they  are  them- 
selves spilled  out  or 
severely  injured.  Un- 
fortunately, instead  of 
storing  his  food, 
sledge,  boat,  instru- 
ments, and  other  equip- 
ment in  the  car,  and 
then  arranging  a  de- 
vice by  which  the  car  could,  in  an  emer- 
gency, be  quickly  cut  loose  from  the  bal- 
loon itself,  Andre*e  carried  all  his  provisions 
and  equipment  above  the  suspension-ring 
of  his  air-ship,  between  the  forty-eight 
ropes  that  attach  the  suspension-ring  to  the 
netting.  What  may  easily  have  happened, 
therefore,  was  the  escape  of  the  balloon, 
carrying  with  it  the  pre- 
cious supplies  and  outfit, 
after  the  occupants  had 
themselves  been  spilled  out 
upon  the  land  or  pack-ice. 
If  the  "Omen"  came 
down  in  the  sea,  the  aero- 
nauts were  drowned.  If 
it  descended  in  the  loose 
pack-ice  southeast  of  Spitz- 
bergen,  they  have  probably 
perished,  as  it  would  be 
next  to  impossible  for  them 
to  reach  land  by  sledging 
over  such  a  surface.  If 
it  alighted  upon  Franz 
Josef  Land,  or  upon  the 
ice  near  it,  without  acci- 
dent, they  are  almost  cer- 
tainly safe.  If  the  descent 
was  made  upon  the  Polar 
pack  more  than  250  miles 
from  Cape  Flora,  they 
are  lost.  If  they  are  now 
alive,  the  chances  are  they 
will  next  summer  be  found 
in  the  Jackson  house  at 
Cape  Flora. 

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lift  AMnbltdu  Sf<A**tm 

JUL**  y*U 


IDA   M.  TARBELL. 

No  name  Is  more  familiar  to  the  readers  of  McClure's  Magazine  than  that  of  Ida  M.  Tarbell.  Miss  Tarbell  has 
been  a  contributor  to  the  Magazine  from  its  foundation.  Her  **  Life  of  Napoleon,"  begun  in  the  November  number, 
1894,  and  finished  in  the  April  number,  1895,  was  by  far  the  most  successful  feature  the  Magazine  had  had  up  to  that 
time.  Rarely,  indeed,  in  all  the  course  of  magazine  publication  has  there  been  a  success  equal  to  it.  It  was  largely  sur- 
passed, however,  a  few  months  later,  by  Miss  Tarbell's  "  Early  Life  of  Lincoln,"  and  her  history  of  the  later  life  of 
Lincoln  seems  likely  to  have  even  a  greater  popularity.  Every  day  we  receive  many  letters  from  subscribers  asking 
when  this  will  begin  publication.  It  will  begin  in  the  November  number,  1898.  For  two  years  now  Miss  Tarbell  has 
been  engaged  in  gathering  new  material  and  pictures  relating  to  Lincoln's  life  from  the  time  of  his  nomination  to  the 
Presidency  at  Chicago,  in  i860,  to  his  death  by  the  hand  of  Booth,  five  years  later.  It  is  a  short  period,  but  the  material 
is  immense,  and  Miss  Tarbell  will  present  in  the  fullest  manner  the  personal,  human  side  of  the  great  War  President, 
pnd  the  movements  of  the  War  as  they  centered  in  or  emanated  from  him. 


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AN  ADVENTURE  OF  TRUCK  SIX. 


By   Ray  Stannard  BakKr. 


THE  Wellington  Hotel  was  burned  on 
the  tenth  of  April.  On  the  following 
morning  the  papers  contained  columns  of 
description;  but  the  adventure  of  Lieu- 
tenant Swenson  and  his  men  received  only 
a  few  paragraphs.  A  somewhat  more 
extended  account  was  given  by  the  "  citi- 
zen," Harrison,  two  days  later  in  the  hos- 
pital. When  I  asked  Swenson  about  it, 
he  only  said  :  "The  marshal  told  me  to 
go  up,  an'  I  went  up.  She  got  too  hot, 
an'  I  came  down." 

Geiger  and  Ford,  however,  finally  gave 
me  the  details,  though  piecemeal  and  some- 
what shamefacedly. 

It  was  a  few  minutes  past  five  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  when  the  cook  of  the 
Wellington  Hotel  rushed  up  from  the  base- 
ment and  pulled  the  knob  of  the  red  fire- 
alarm  box  back  of  the  clerk's  desk.  In 
the  laundry  behind  the  kitchen  the  flames 
were  spreading  along  the  walls  and  reach- 
ing out  of  the  windows  and  doors.  Five 
minutes  later  they  had  found  the  wooden 
elevator  shaft,  where  they  leaped  with  a 
roar  to  the  top  of  the  building  and  blazed 
out  over  the  roof  like  a  smoky,  red  torch. 

The  Wellington  Hotel  stood  at  the  cor- 
ner of  Cass  Avenue  and  Thirty-first 
Street,  in  a  comfortable  residence  district 
of  the  city.  It  was  of  brick,  fwe  stories 
high,  and  built  in  the  form  of  a  big  L, 
with  a  roomy,  white-washed  court  in  the 
angle  at  the  rear.  Adjoining  it  in  Cass 
Avenue  stood  a  thin  frame  building,  two 
stories  high,  occupied  on  the  first  floor  by 
a  dealer  in  hats  and  gloves,  with  a  photo- 
graph gallery  overhead. 

Fire  Marshal  Collins  saw  at  a  glance 
that  the  Thirty-first  Street  L  was  doomed. 
The  fire  looked  from  every  window  in  its 
five  stories.  There  was  only  one  thing  to 
do:  save  as  much  as  possible  of  the  front 
L,  and  prevent  the  fire  from  spreading  to 
the  other  buildings  of  the  block.  In  half 
a  minute  Collins  had  disposed  his  forces. 
Three  streams  of  water  drove  in  the  win- 
dows of  the  upper  floors  near  the  corner 
of  the  hotel;  three  companies  closed  in  at 
the  rear  along  the  alleyway  ;  and  Truck 
Six,  Swenson,  lieutenant,  wheeled  up  close 
to  the  curbing  and  ran  a  Bangor  ladder  to 
the  roof  of  the  photograph  gallery.     The 


ladder  swayed  and  dipped  like  a  poplar 
pole,  and  then  rested  lightly  against  the 
cornice.  Swenson  and  his  men  scrambled 
up  with  their  lanterns  and  axes.  Captain 
Hill  of  Engine  Fourteen  and  four  of  his 
company  followed  with  a  lead  of  hose. 
From  the  top  of  the  gallery  Swenson  raised 
another  ladder  until  it  tipped  the  fourth- 
story  window.  From  this  point  a  short 
scaling-ladder  was  pushed  up,  and  hooked 
to  the  stone  ledge  of  the  window  on  the 
fifth  floor.  Swenson  drove  in  the  sashes, 
frame  and  all,  and  a  moment  later  they 
dragged  the  hose  down  the  carpeted  hall 
and  into  a  room  that  opened  on  the  court. 
From  the  window  they  could  command 
the  other  L.  Hill  signaled  for  water, 
and  they  dropped  a  hundred-pound  stream 
into  the  thick  of  the  fire. 

After  establishing  the  lead,  Swenson, 
with  Kirk,  his  axman,  and  two  truckmen, 
Geiger  and  Ford,  went  down  the  hall  to 
find  a  suitable  place  for  the  second  hose- 
line  which  No.  4  was  dragging  up  the  lad- 
ders. At  a  turn  of  the  passageway  they 
heard  a  voice  shouting. 

Geiger  went  ahead  with  his  lighted 
lantern.  Kirk  and  Ford  shouted  again 
and  again,  but  there  was  no  reply.  The 
smoke  was  fast  becoming  unendurable, 
even  to  a  seasoned  fireman,  and  they 
turned  and  ran  back,  opening  the  doors 
and  peering  into  the  smoky  interiors  of 
the  rooms  as  they  passed.  Presently 
Swenson  stumbled,  and  all  but  fell  over 
something  in  the  hallway.  Geiger  held 
his  lantern.  A  man  on  his  hands  and 
knees,  with  a  handkerchief  over  his  mouth, 
was  crawling  on  the  floor. 

"  Where's  the  stairway  ?  "  he  mumbled. 

Swenson  lifted  him  up,  and  guided  him 
down  the  hall.  On  nearing  the  window  at 
which  they  had  entered,  they  were  startled 
to  see  the  hose-line  crawling  rapidly  down 
the  hall  floor  and  wriggling  out  of  the  win- 
dow like  some  long  snake.  The  brass  noz- 
zle-head rang  sharply  on  the  stone  ledge  and 
was  gone.  The  room  where  the  pipemen 
had  been  at  work  was  vacant,  and  upon 
looking  out  of  the  hall  window  Swenson 
saw  the  flames  bursting  up  from  the  pho- 
tograph gallery,  the  flimsy  roof  of  which 
curled  before  them  as  if  it  was  made  of 


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AN  ADVENTURE  OF   TRUCK  SIX. 


429 


pasteboard.  The  ladder  reaching  to  the 
fourth  floor  was  already  down.  In  the 
street  below,  Swenson  saw  Hill  and  his 
men  running  to  safety  across  the  street. 
They  had  staid  a  moment  too  long.  There 
was  no  escape  from  that  side  of  the 
building. 

At  Swenson's  order,  Kirk  and  Ford 
drew  up  the  scaling-ladder  that  hung  from 
the  window,  and  they  all  groped  their  way 
through  the  smoke  which  was  now  driving 
down  the  hallway  in  dense,  choking  cur- 
rents. Swenson  opened  a  door  leading 
into  one  of  the  rooms  which  faced  the 
Cass  Avenue  front  of  the  building.  Here 
he  threw  up  the  window  and  looked  out. 
The  street  pavement  was  mapped  with 
the  criss-cross  of  hose-lines.  At  the  cor- 
ner, No.  8's  engine  was  squealing  frantic- 
ally for  coal.  A  dense  knot  of  firemen 
was  steadying  a  hose-nozzle  on  the  side- 
walk opposite.  The  crowds  .had  been 
choked  back  until  they  stood  wedged  deep 
and  dark  around  the  further  corner. 

Swenson  saw  Collins  wave  his  hand  to 
the  men  of  Truck  Two  and  point  upward. 
He  saw  them  start  with  their  ladders,  and 
then,  of  a  sudden,  the  whole  building 
shook,  and  a  dense  cloud  of  smoke  belched 
from  the  basement  below  and  filled  the 
street.  And  Swenson  knew  that  the 
building  directly  under  him  was  on  fire. 
In  four  or  five  minutes  at  the  very  most 
the  floors  would  go  down. 

To  any  one  but  a  fireman  there  would 
have  been  no  way  of  escape.  But  Swen- 
son stood  two  inches  over  six  feet  in  his 
stockings,  and  he  was  cool  with  the  expe- 
rience of  fifteen  years  of  fires.  His  plan 
was  formed  instantly. 

Kirk  drove  out  the  window  sashes  with 
a  single  blow  of  his  axe.  Swenson  seized 
the  ladder,  and  ran  it  outside,  hooks  up. 
Then  he  stood  on  the  stone  ledge;  Geiger 
and  Ford  seized  his  belt,  one  on  each  side; 
and  he  leaned  far  out  as  if  to  jump.  Care- 
fully the  ladder  was  lifted  toward  the  edge 
of  the  roof,  the  iron  cornice  of  which  ex- 
tended some  distance  over  the  street.  For 
a  moment  he  swayed  and  strained.  The 
hooks  rasped  on  the  wall,  but  they  would 
not  reach  to  the  top.  The  ladder  was  too 
heavy;  in  that  cramped  position  Swenson 
could  not  raise  it  to  its  full  height. 

"  No  use,"  said  Ford,  despondently. 

After  a  moment's  consultation  with  the 
other  men,  Swenson  formed  another  plan. 
Placing  the  foot  of  the  ladder  firmly  on  the 
outside  window  ledge,  he  lifted  its  top  in 
air.  Then  he  and  Geiger  each  took  firm 
hold  of   it  with  one  hand,  gripping   the 


other  around  the  inside  casing  of  the  win- 
dow. Kirk,  who  was  the  lightest  of  the 
number,  stepped  up  on  the  window  sill. 
He  had  kicked  off  his  boots,  and  thrown 
aside  his  helmet.  He  was  white  to  the 
lips. 

"  Don't  look  down,"  said  Swenson. 

Kirk  climbed  up  the  ladder  until  he  was 
poised  in  mid-air,  sixty  feet  sheer  above 
the  stone  sidewalk.  At  the  end  of  the 
ladder  he  paused  and  looked  around. 

44  Go  on,"  shouted  Swenson. 

Kirk  went  up  another  step  and  released 
his  arms,  standing  on  the  second  round 
from  the  top.  Slowly  Swenson  and  Geiger 
drew  the  ladder  closer  to  the  wall.  Kirk 
swayed  and  swung  like  a  pole-balancer. 
Then  he  reached  for  the  top  of  the  build- 
ing. It  was  still  above  him.  He  stepped 
from  the  second  round  to  the  bare  top  of 
the  ladder,  and  balanced  dizzily,  with  one 
hand  resting  lightly  on  the  wall.  In  that 
moment  he  heard  the  roaring  of  the  fire 
and  the  squelching  of  the  water  through 
the  windows  below  him,  but  he  saw  only 
the  gray  scaled  edge  of  the  cornice.  He 
knew  that  if  he  did  not  go  up,  he  would 
go  down  sixty  feet  to  the  flagging  below. 

Slowly  he  raised  up.  His  fingers  slipped 
just  over  the  edge  of  the  cornice  and 
tightened  there.  He  drew  himself  up, 
and  rolled  over  on  the  gravel  roof. 

44  Now,  Ford,"  said  Swenson. 

Ford  had  not  looked  when  Kirk  climbed. 
Such  things  are  not  good  to  see.  He  ran 
up  the  ladder  rapidly.  It  was  again  drawn 
th,  and  when  Ford  reached  the  top,  Kirk, 
reaching  over,  seized  his  wrists  and  helped 
him  up.  As  he  disappeared  from  view 
Harrison,  the  citizen  whom  they  had  saved, 
rushed  wildly  forward. 

14  You're  going  to  leave  me, "he  shouted; 
44  you're  going  to  let  me  burn  up." 

44  No,  we're  not,"  growled  Swenson; 
44  it's  your  turn  next." 

At  that,  Harrison,  who  had  thrown  off 
his  coat  and  shoes,  sprung  up  on  the  win- 
dow sill.  Then  he  looked  down.  The 
smoke  from  below  was  now  seamed  with 
streaks  of  fire.  It  was  a  long  way  down 
to  the  street.  The  ladder  looked  frail 
and  unsteady.  He  sprang  back,  and  darted 
half  way  across  the  room. 

44 1  can't  do  it,"  he  said. 

44  Steady  the  ladder,"  Swenson  said  to 
Geiger. 

Then  he  seized  Harrison  by  the  collar 
and  shook  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  poodle 
dog.  After  that  he  cuffed  him  soundly, 
first  on  one  side  of  the  head  and  then  on 
the  other. 


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AN  ADVENTURE  OF  TRUCK  SIX. 


"  Get  up  there  or  I'll  pitch  you  into  the 
street,"  he  said. 

Harrison  climbed.  At  the  top  of  the 
ladder  he  looked  up.  Kirk  and  Ford  were 
reaching  down  to  him.  He  went  one 
round  higher. 

44  Straighten  up— steady  now,"  said 
Kirk  calmly. 

Harrison  raised  himself  slowly,  and  lifted 
his  hands.  Just  as  he  felt  Kirk's  fingers 
he  gave  way  and  swayed  against  the  wall. 
Kirk  gripped  him  hard.  For  a  moment 
he  dangled  helplessly.  Then  both  men 
reached  his  arm  and  pulled  him  up. 

44  Now,  Geiger,"  said  Swenson. 

41  You  can't  hold  the  ladder,"  said 
Geiger. 

44 1  can,"  answered  the  big  Swede. 

They  stood  still  a  moment.  They  heard 
the  ominous  crunching  of  the  fire  under 
them,  and  they  knew  that  it  soon  would 
knock  at  the  door.  Geiger  climbed. 
Swenson  strained  hard  with  both  feet 
braced  under  the  window  sill.  He  had 
promised  to  shout  when  he  could  no 
longer  hold  the  ladder.  When  Geiger  was 
half  way  up  he  shouted.  Then  he  felt 
the  ladder  lighten  suddenly  and  he  saw 
Geiger's  body  swing  off  into  the  air.  For 
a  moment  he  went  sick  at  the  sight;  then 
he  saw  Kirk  and  Ford  pulling  him  up  on 
their  belts. 

All  this  had  taken  place  in  less  than 
three  minutes.  The  whole  building  was 
burning  now,  and  the  air  was  full  of  cin- 
ders. Swenson  could  not  see  the  street 
pavement,  but  he  caught  glimpses  of  the 
white  rods  of  water  driving  into  the  win- 
dows below  him. 

Swenson  stood  on  the  stone  ledge  with 
one  hand  gripped  inside  of  the  window 
casing.  Then  he  lifted  the  ladder  and 
threw  it  up  round  by  round  with  his  right 
hand,  pausing  between  each  hitch  to  be 
sure  of  the  balance.  So  much  for  the  fire 
drill.  When  it  was  nearly  up  he  strained 
hard,  and  Kirk  and  Ford,  who  had  buckled 
their  belts  together,  dropped  the  loop 
around  the  hooks  at  the  end,  drew  it  up, 
and  fitted  it  firmly  over  the  cornice  edge. 
Swenson  swung  out  on  the  lower  end  of 
it,  scrambled  to  the  top,  hand  over  hand, 
and  rolled  out  on  the  roof. 

They  were  just  in  time  to  see  another 
section  of  the  roof  go  down  with  a  terrific 
crash  that  sent  the  flames  and  cinders 
leaping  a  hundred  feet  in  air.  The  whole 
building  quivered,  and  for  a  moment  they 
thought  the  walls  were  going  down.  There 
was  fire  on  every  side  of  them  and  under 
them,  and  the  smoke  cut  off  the  sky  from 


above.  Their  faces  were  already  scorched 
with  the  heat. 

Directly  across  the  street  from  the  Wel- 
lington Hotel  and  about  sixty  feet  away 
there  stood  a  four-story  apartment  build- 
ing. A  telephone  wire  cable  a  little  more 
than  an  inch  in  diameter  extended  from 
the  roof  of  one  to  the  roof  of  the  other. 
On  the  top  of  the  hotel  it  was  fastened  to 
a  stout  post,  and  it  pitched  off  over  the 
edge  of  the  roof  at  a  sharp  angle  down- 
ward to  the  other  building.  Kirk,  being 
the  lightest,  was  selected  to  go  first. 
Swenson  and  the  other  three  men,  fearing 
that  the  cable  had  been  injured  beyond 
the  post,  laid  firm  hold  of  it  and  braced 
their  feet.  Kirk  sat  on  the  edge  of  the 
cornice  with  his  feet  hanging  over.  Then 
he  slid  off,  crossed  his  legs  over  the  wire 
as  over  a  life-line,  and  slipped  down.  The 
cable  sagged  until  it  seemed  about  to 
snap.  H^nd  over  hand  Kirk  slid  across 
the  chasm,  teetering  and  swaying  from  side 
to  side  until  the  men  on  the  roof  turned 
their  heads  away.  When  Kirk  was  over, 
Ford  followed  him  without  a  word,  and 
Geiger  followed  Ford.  Each  time  the 
cable  sagged  deeper  and  the  post  bent  fur- 
ther down.  Swenson  buckled  four  belts 
together  and  brought  them  around  Harri- 
son's body  and  over  the  cable.  44  Keep 
hold,"  he  said,  "and  you  can't  fall." 

But  Harrison  was  now  dazed  and  only 
half  conscious.  When  he  began  to  slide 
he  grasped  feebly  at  the  cable,  and  then  it 
slipped  between  his  fingers.  His  body 
shot  down  heavily  and  stopped  with  a  jerk 
that  all  but  snapped  the  cable.  For  a 
moment  he  dangled  at  the  end  of  the  belt 
straps,  then  he  whizzed  across  the  street 
and  drove  headlong  into  the  post  on  the 
further  side. 

By  this  time  Kirk  and  Ford  had  lost  all 
trace  of  Swenson.  Smoke  and  flames  en- 
veloped the  entire  building,  and  from  the 
shouts  in  the  street  below,  they  knew  that 
the  wall  would  soon  go  down.  Suddenly 
Swenson  shot  out  of  the  smoke,  spun  a 
moment  on  the  cable,  and  fell  at  their 
feet.  His  hands  and  ankles  were  terribly 
lacerated  and  burned  where  they  had 
slipped  on  the  cable.  But  all  four  of  the 
firemen  managed  to  hobble  down-stairs 
without  assistance.  On  the  first  floor  they 
passed  through  a  company  of  hotel 
guests  talking  to  reporters  about  their 
narrow  escapes — three  women  had  fainted, 
and  one  man  had  fallen  downstairs. 

44  One  hundred  thousand  dollars  fire 
damage,"  said  a  head-line  in  one  of  the 
papers  next  morning,  "  but  no  lives  lost." 


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PANORAMIC  VIEW  OK  MISSIONARY   RIDGE   FROM  THE   VALLEY  THAT   LIES  BETWEEN   THE   RIDGE  AND   CHATTANOOGA. 


REMINISCENCES 


OF     MEN     AND 
CIVIL   WAR. 


EVENTS    OF     THE 


By  Charles  A.  Dana, 
Assistant  Secretary  of  War  from  1863  to  1865. 

ILLUSTRATED  WITH   PORTRAITS  AND  VIEWS    FROM  THE  WAR    DEPARTMENT  COLLECTION  OF 

CIVIL  WAR  PHOTOGRAPHS. 

V. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  CHATTANOOGA.— IN  THE  WAR  DEPARTMENT  WITH 

STANTON. 


COLONEL  WILSON  and  I  reached 
Chattanooga  from  our  visit  to  Burn- 
side  at  Knoxville,  on  November  17th.  As 
soon  as  I  arrived  I  went  to  headquarters  to 
find  out  the  news.  There  was  the  greatest 
hopefulness  everywhere,  and  both  Grant 
and  Thomas  told  me  that  they  believed 
the  Confederates  would  be  driven  from 
their  position  south  of  Chattanooga  in  a 
very  few  days.  In  fact,  the  plans  for  a  gen- 
eral attack  on  them  were  complete,  and 
the  first  move  was  to  be  made  that  very 
night.  There  were  some  hitches,  however, 
in  carrying  out  the  operations  as  speedily 
as  Grant  had  hoped,  for  it  was  not  until 
the  23d  that  the  first  encounter  in  the  bat- 
tle of  Chattanooga  occurred.  It  was  the 
beginning  of  the  most  spectacular  military 


operations  I  ever  saw,  operations  extend- 
ing over  three  days  and  full  of  the  most 
exciting  incidents. 

As  any  one  can  see  from  a  glance  at  the 
map  [see  page  434],  our  army  lay  to  the 
south  and  east  of  the  town  of  Chatta- 
nooga, the  river  at  our  back.  Facing  us, 
in  a  great  half  circle,  and  high  above  us  on 
Lookout  Mountain  and  Missionary  Ridge, 
were  the  Confederates.  Our  problem  was 
to  drive  them  from  these  heights.  We  had 
got  our  men  well  together,  all  the  reinforce- 
ments were  up,  and  now  we  were  to  strike. 

The  first  thing  Grant  tried  to  do  was  to 
clear  out  the  rebel  lines  which  were  near- 
est to  ours  in  the  plain  south  of  Chatta- 
nooga, and  to  get  hold  of  two  knobs,  or 
low  hills,  where  the  Confederates  had  their 
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432 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


PANORAMIC  VIEW   OF   KNOXVII.LB,  TENNESSEE. 


advance  guard.  As  the  entire  field  where 
this  attack  was  to  be  made  was  distinctly 
visible  from  one  of  our  forts,  I  went  there 
on  the  23d,  with  the  generals,  to  watch 
the  operations.  The  troops  employed  for 
the  attack  were  under  the  immediate  orders 
of  Gordon  Granger.  There  were  some 
capital  officers  under  Granger,  among  them 
Sheridan,  Hazen,  and  T.  J.  Wood.  Just 
before  one  o'clock  the  men  moved  ou^  of 
their  intrenchments,  and  remained  in  line 
for  three-quarters  of  an  hour  in  full  view 
of  the  enemy.  The  spectacle  was  one  of 
singular  magnificence. 

Usually  in  a  battle  one  sees  only  a- little 
corner  of  what  is  going  on,  the  movements 
near  where  you  happen  to  be;  but  in  the 
battle  of  Chattanooga  we  had  the  whole 
scene  before  us.  At  last,  everything 
being  ready,  Granger  gave  the  order  to 
advance,  and  three  brigades  of  men  pushed 
out  simultaneously.  The  troops  advanced 
rapidly,  with  all  the  precision  of  a  review, 
the  flags  flying  and  the  bands  playing.  The 
first  sign  of  a  battle  one  noticed  was  the  fire 
spitting  out  of  the  rifles  of  the  skirmishers. 
The  lines  moved  right  straight  along,  not 
halting  at  all,  the  skirmishers  all  the  time 
advancing  in  front,  firing  and  receiving  fire. 

The  first  shot  was  fired  at  two  o'clock, 
and  in  five  minutes  Hazen's  skirmishers 
were  briskly  engaged,  while  the  artillery 
of  Forts  Wood  and  Palmer  was  opened 
upon  the  rebel  rifle-pits  and  camps  behind 
the  line  of  fighting.  The  practice  of  our 
gunners  was  splendid,  but  elicited  no 
reply;  and  it  was  soon  evident  that  the 
Confederates  had  no  heavy  artillery,  in 
that  part  of  their  lines  at  least.  Our 
troops,  rapidly  advancing,  occupied  the 
knobs  upon  which  they  were  directed  at 
twenty  minutes  past  two.  Ten  minutes 
later  Samuel  Beatty,  who  commanded  a  bri- 
gade, driving  forward  across  an  open  field, 
carried  the  rifle-pits  in  his  front,  the  occu- 


pants fleeing  as  they  fired  their  last  volley; 
and  Sheridan,  moving  through  the  forest 
which  stretched  before  him,  drove  in  the 
enemy's  pickets,  and  halted  his  advance, 
in  obedience  to  orders,  on  reaching  the 
rifle-pits  where  the  rebel  force  was  wait- 
ing for  his  attack.  No  such  attack  was 
made,  however,  the  design  being  to  secure 
only  the  heights.  The  entire  movement 
was  carried  out  in  such  an  incredibly  short 
time  that  at  half-past  three  I  was  able  to 
send  a  telegram  to  Mr.  Stanton  describing 
the  victory. 

That  evening  I  joined  General  Sherman, 
who  had  his  troops  north  of  the  river,  con- 
cealed behind  the  hills,  and  was  going  to 
attempt  to  cross  the  Tennessee  above  the 
town  that  very  night,  so  as  to  be  able  to 
attack  the  east  head  of  Missionary  Ridge 
on  the  night  of  the  24th  or  morning  of  the 
25th.  Sherman  had  some  25,000  men, 
and  crossing  them  over  a  river  as  wide 
and  rapid  as  the  Tennessee  was  above 
Chattanooga  seemed  to  me  a  serious 
task,  and  I  watched  the  operations  of  the 
night  with  great  curiosity.  The  first  point 
was  to  get  a  sufficient  body  of  troops  on 
the  south  bank  to  hold  a  position  against 
the  enemy  (the  Confederates  had  pickets 
for  a  long  distance  up  and  down  the  Ten- 
nessee above  Chattanooga),  and  then  from 
there  commence  building  the  pontoon 
bridge  by  which  the  bulk  of  the  men  were 
to  be  gotten  over.  About  one  o'clock  in 
the  morning  the  pontoon  boats,  which 
had  been  sent  up  the  river  some  distance, 
were  filled  with  men  and  allowed  to  drop 
down  to  the  point  General  Sherman  had 
chosen  for  the  south  end  of  his  bridge. 
They  landed  about  2.30  in  the  morning, 
seized  the  pickets,  and  immediately  began 
to  fortify  their  position.  The  boats  in 
the  meantime  were  sent  across  the  river  to 
bring  over  fresh  loads  of  men.  They  kept 
this   up   until    morning.      Then    a  small 


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CHARLES  A,   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


433 


steamer  which  Sherman  had  got  hold  of  No  report  of  the  result  was  received  that 

came  up,  and  began  to  bring  over  troops,  night,  but  the  next  morning  we  knew  that 

At  daybreak  some  of  the  boats  were  taken  Bragg  had  evacuated  Lookout  Mountain 

from  the  ferrying  and  a  bridge  was  begun,  the  night  before  and  that  our  troops  oc- 

It  was  marvellous     with   what  vigor    the  cupied  it. 
work  went  on.     Sherman  told  me  he  had 

never  seen  anything  done  so  quietly  and         November  25TH  at  Chattanooga. 
so  well,  and  he  de- 


clared later  in  his 
report  that  he  did 
not  believe  the  his- 
tory of  war  could 
show  a  bridge  of 
that  length,  about 
1,350  feet,  laid  down 
so  noiselessly  and 
in  so  short  a  time. 
By  one  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  (No- 
vember 24th)  the 
bridge  was  done, 
and  the  balance  of 
his  forces  were  soon 
marching  briskly 
across.  As  soon  as 
Sherman  saw  that 
the  crossing  was  in- 
sured, he  set  the 
head  of  his  column 
in  motion  for  the 
head  of  Missionary 
Ridge.  By  four 
o'clock  he  had 
gained  the  crest  of 
the  ridge  and  was 
preparing  for  the 
next  day's  battle. 

As  soon  as  I  saw 
Sherman  in  position, 
I  hurried  back  to 
Chattanooga.        I 

reached  there  just  in  time  to  see  the  fa- 
mous moonlight  battle  on  Lookout  Moun- 
tain. The  way  this  night  battle  happened 
to  be  fought  was  that  Hooker,  who  had 
been  holding  Lookout  valley,  had  been 
ordered   to   gain   a   foothold  on    Lookout 


CENKRAI.    GRANT    IN    1864. 


After  the  suc- 
cesses of  the  two 
days,  a  decisive  bat- 
tle seemed  inevit- 
able, and  orders 
were  given  that 
night  for  a  vigorous 
attack  the  next 
morning.  I  was  up 
early,  sending  my 
first  despatch  to  Mr. 
Stanton  at  half-past 
seven  in  the  morn- 
ing. About  nine 
o'clock  the  battle 
was  commenced  by 
Sherman  on  our 
left,  and  raged  furi- 
ously all  that  fore- 
noon both  east  of 
Missionary  Ridge 
and  along  its  crest, 
the  enemy  making 
vigorous  efforts  to 
crush  Sherman  and 
dislodge  him  from 
his  position  on  the 
ridge.  While  this 
battle  was  going  on, 
I  was  on  Orchard 
Knob,  where  Grant, 
Thomas,  Granger, 
and  several  other 
officers  were  observing  the  operations. 
The  enemy  kept  firing  shells  at  us,  I  re- 
member, from  the  ridge  opposite.  They 
had  got  the  range  so  well  that  the  shells 
burst  pretty  near  the  top  of  the  elevation 
where  we  were,  and  when  we  saw  them 


Mountain   if  possible,  and  that  day,  while    coming  we  would  duck,  that  is,  everybody 


I  was  with  Sherman,  had  really  succeeded 
in  scaling  the  side  of  the  mountain.  But 
his  possession  of  the  point  he  had  reached 
had  been  so  hotly  disputed  that  a  brigade 
had  been  sent  from  Chattanooga  to  aid 
him.  These  troops  attacked  the  Confed- 
erate lines  on  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
mountain  about  eight  o'clock  that  even- 
ing.,  Full  moon  made  their  battle-field  as 
plain  to  us  in  the  valley  as  if  it  were  day, 
the  blaze  of  their  camp  fires  and  the  flashes 
of  their  guns  displaying  brilliantly  their 
position  and  the  progress  of  their  advance. 


did  except  Grant  and  Thomas  and  Gordon 
Granger.  It  was  not  according  to  their 
dignity  to  go  down  on  their  marrow  bones. 
While  we  were  there  Granger  got  a  gun — 
a  cannon — how  he  got  it  I  do  not  know — 
and  he  would  load  it  with  the  help  of  one 
soldier,  and  fire  it  himself  over  at  the  ridge. 
I  recollect  that  Rawlins  was  very  much 
disgusted  at  the  guerrilla  operations  of 
Granger,  and  induced  Grant  to  order  him 
to  join  his  troops  elsewhere. 

As  we  thought  we  perceived,  soon  after 
noon,  that  the  enemy  had  sent  a  great  mass 


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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF  THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


of  their  troops  to  crush  Sherman,  Grant 
gave  orders  at  two  o'clock  for  an  assault 
upon  the  left  of  their  lines;  but  owing  to  the 
fault  of  Granger,  who  was  boyishly  intent 
upon  firing  his  gun,  instead  of  command- 
ing his  corps,  Grant's  order  was  not  trans- 
mitted to  the  division  commanders  until  he 
repeated  it  an  hour  later. 

It  was  fully  four  o'clock  before  the 
line  moved  out  to  the  attack.  It  was  a 
bright,  sunny  afternoon,  and  as  the  forces 
marched  across  the  valley,  in  front  of  us, 
as  regularly  as  if  on  parade,  it  was  a  great 
spectacle.  They  took  with  ease  the  first 
rifle-pits  at  the  foot  of  the  ridge,  as  they 
had  been  ordered,  and  then,  to  the  amaze- 
ment of  all  of  us  who  watched  on  Orchard 
Knob,  they  moved  out  and  up  the  steep 
ahead  of  them,  and  before  we  realized  it, 
they  were  at  the  top  of  Missionary  Ridge. 
It  was  just  half-past  four  when  I  wired 
Mr.  Stanton: 

Glory  to  God  !  the  day  is  decisively  ours.  Mis- 
sionary Ridge  has  just  been  carried  by  the  mag- 
nificent charge  of  Thomas's  troops,  and  the  rebels 
routed. 

As  soon  as  Grant  saw  the  ridge  was 
ours,  he  started  for  the  front.  As  he  rode 
the  length  of  the  lines,  the  men,  who  were 
frantic  with  joy  and  enthusiasm  over  the 
victory,  received  him  with  tumultuous 
shouts.  The  storming  of  the  ridge  by  our 
troops  was  one  of  the  greatest  miracles  in 
military  history.     No  man  who  climbs  the 


ascent  by  any  of  the  roads  that  wind 
along  its  front  can  believe  that  18,000  men 
were  moved  in  tolerably  good  order  up 
its  broken  and  crumbling  face  unless  it 
was  his  fortune  to  witness  the  deed.  It 
seemed  as  awful  as  a  visible  interposition 
of  God.  Neither  Grant  nor  Thomas  in- 
tended it.  Their  orders  were  to  carry  the 
rifle-pits  along  the  base  of  the  ridge  and 
capture  their  occupants;  but  when  this 
was  accomplished,  the  unaccountable  spirit 
of  the  troops  bore  them  bodily  up  those 
impracticable  steeps,  over  the  bristling 
rifle-pits  on  the  crest  and  the  numerous  can- 
non enfilading  every  gully.  The  order  to 
storm  appears  to  have  been  given  simulta- 
neously by  Generals  Sheridan  and  Wood, 
because  the  men  were  not  to  be  held 
back,  dangerous  as  the  attempt  appeared 
to  military  prudence.  Besides,  the  gen- 
erals had  caught  the  inspiration  of  the 
men,  and  were  ready  themselves  to  under- 
take impossibilities. 

The  first  time  I  saw  Sheridan  after  the 
battle  I  said  to  him:  "  Why  did  you  go  up 
there?" 

"  When  I  saw  the  men  were  going  up," 
he  replied,  "I  had  no  idea  of  stopping 
them;  the  rebel  rifle-pits  had  been  taken, 
and  nobody  had  been  hurt,  and  after  they 
had  started  I  ordered  them  to  go  on. 
As  I  was  going  up  I  looked  up  at  the  head 
of  the  ridge,  and  there  I  saw  a  Confeder- 
ate general  on  horseback.  I  had  a  silver 
whisky  flask  in  my  pocket,  and  when  I 


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435 


LOOKOl'T    MDl'MAIN    FROM    I.OOKOf  f    VALLEY. 


saw  this  man  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  I  took 
it  out  and  waved  my  hand  toward  him, 
holding  up  the  shining,  glittering  flask,  and 
then  I  took  a  drink.  He  waved  back  to 
me,  and  then  the  whole  division  went  up." 

All  the  evening  of  the  25th  the  excite- 
ment of  the  battle  continued.  Bragg  had 
retreated  up  the  Chickamauga  valley,  and 
was  burning  what  he  could  not  carry 
away,  so  that  the  east  was  lit  by  his  fires, 
while  Sheridan  continued  his  fight  beyond 
the  east  slope  of  Missionary  Ridge  until 
nine  o'clock  in  the  evening.  It  was  a 
bright  moonlight  night,  and  we  could  see 
most  of  the  operations  as  plain  as  day. 
By  the  next  morning  Bragg  was  in  full  re- 
treat. I  went  to  Missionary  Ridge  in  the 
morning,  and  from  there  I  could  see  for  ten 
miles  up  Chickamauga  valley  the  fires  of 
the  depots  and  bridges  he  was  burning  as 
he  fled. 

At  intervals  throughout  the  day  I  sent 
despatches  to  Washington,  where  they 
were  eagerly  read,  as  the  following  tele- 
gram sent  me  on  the  27th  shows: 

War  Department, 
Washington  City,  November  27,  1863. 
Hon.  C.   A.   Dana, 

Chattanooga,  Tenn.: 
The  Secretary  of  War  is  absent,  and  the  President 
is  sick  ;  but  both  receive  your  despatches  regularly 
and  esteem  them  highly,  not  merely  because  they  are 


reliable,  but  for  their  clearness  of  narrative  and  their 

graphic  pictures  of  the  stirring  events  they  describe. 

The  patient  endurance  and  spirited  valor  exhibited 

by  commanders  and  men  in  the  last  great  feat  of 

arms,   which  has   crowned  our  cause  with    such  a 

glorious  success,  is  making  all  of  us  hero- worshipers. 

P.   H.  Watson, 

Acting  Secretary  of  War. 

grant's  plans  for  the  fiture. 

The  enemy  was  now  divided;  Bragg  was 
flying  towards  Rome  and  Atlanta,  and 
Longstreet  was  in  East  Tennessee  besieg- 
ing Burnside.  Our  victorious  army  was 
between  them.  The  first  thought  was,  of 
course,  to  relieve  Burnside,  and  Grant 
ordered  Granger  with  the  Fourth  Corps 
instantly  forward  to  his  aid,  taking  pains 
to  write  Granger  a  personal  letter,  ex- 
plaining the  exigencies  of  the  case  and 
the  imperative  need  of  energy.  It  had 
no  effect,  however,  in  hastening  the  move- 
ment, and  a  day  or  two  later  Grant  ordered 
Sherman  to  assume  command  of  all  the 
forces  operating  from  the  south  to  save 
Knoxville.  Grant  became  imbued  with  a 
strong  prejudice  against  Granger  from  this 
circumstance. 

As  any  movement  against  Bragg  was 
impracticable  at  that  season,  the  only 
operation  possible  to  Grant,  beyond  the 
relief  of  Burnside,   was   to   hold   Chatta- 

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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


A    VIEW    OF   CHATTANOOGA    IN    WAK    TIME. 


nooga  and  the  line  of  the  Hiwassee,  to 
complete  and  protect  the  railroads  and 
the  steamboats  upon  the  Tennessee,  and 
to  amass  food,  forage,  and  ordnance  stores 
for  the  future.  But  all  this  would  require 
only  a  portion  of  the  forces  under  his 
command,  and,  instead  of  holding  the  re- 
mainder in  winter  quarters,  he  evolved  a 
plan  to  employ  them  in  an  offensive  winter 
campaign  against  Mobile  and  the  interior 
of  Alabama.  He  asked  me  to  lay  his 
plan  before  Mr.  Stanton,  and  urge  its  ap- 
proval by  the  Government,  which,  of 
course,  I  did  at  once  by  telegraph. 

I  did  not  wait  at  Chattanooga  to  learn 
the  decision  of  the  Government  on  Grant's 
plan,  but  left  on  November  29th,  again 
with  Colonel  Wilson,  to  join  Sherman,  now 
well  on  his  way  to  Knoxville,  and  to  ob- 
serve his  campaign. 

THE    RELIEF    OF    BURNSIDE. 

I  fell  in  with  Sherman  on  November 
30th  at  Charleston,  on  the  Hiwassee.  The 
Confederate  guard  there  fled  at  his  ap- 
proach, after  half  destroying  the  bridges, 
and  we  had  to  stay  there  until  one  was  re- 
paired. When  we  reached  Loudon,  on 
December  3d,  the  bridge  over  the  Ten- 
nessee was  gone,  so  that  the  main  body  of 
the  army  marched  to  a  point  where  it  was 
believed  a  practicable  ford  might  be  found. 
The  ford,  however,  proved  too  difficult  for 
the  men,  the  river  being  200  yards  wide, 
and  the  water  almost  at   freezing  point. 


We  had  a  great  deal  of  fun  getting  across. 
I  remember  my  horse  went  through — swam 
through,  where  his  feet  could  not  strike 
the  ground — and  I  got  across  without  any 
difficulty.  I  think  Wilson  got  across,  too; 
but  when  the  lieutenant  of  our  squad  of 
cavalrymen  got  in  the  middle  of  the  river, 
where  it  was  so  deep  that  as  he  sat  in  the 
saddle  the  water  came  up  to  his  knees  al- 
most, and  a  little  above  the  breast  of  the 
mule  he  rode,  the  animal  turned  his  head 
upward  toward  the  current,  which  was  very 
strong,  and  would  not  move.  This  poor 
fellow  sat  there  in  the  middle  of  the  stream, 
and,  do  his  best,  he  could  not  move  his 
beast.  Finally,  they  drove  in  a  big  wagon, 
or  truck,  with  two  horses,  and  tied  that  to 
the  bits  of  the  mule,  and  dragged  him  out. 

Colonel  Wilson  at  once  set  about  the 
construction  of  a  trestle  bridge,  and  by 
working  all  night  had  it  so  advanced  that 
the  troops  could  begin  to  cross  by  daylight 
the  next  morning. 

While  the  crossing  was  going  on,  we 
captured  a  Confederate  mail,  and  first 
learned  something  authentic  about  Burn- 
side.  He  had  been  assaulted  by  Long- 
street  on  the  29th  of  November,  but  had 
repulsed  him.  He  was  still  besieged,  and 
all  the  rebel  letter-writers  spoke  of  their 
condition  with  great  despondency,  evi- 
dently regarding  their  chance  of  extrica- 
tion, in  view  of  our  approach,  as  very  poor. 
Longstreet,  we  gathered  from  the  mail, 
thought  that  Sherman  was  bringing  up 
only  a  small  force. 


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437 


By  noon  of  December  5th  we  had  our 
army  over,  and,  as  we  were  now  only 
thirty-five  miles  from  Knoxville,  we  pushed 
ahead  rapidly,  the  enemy  making  but  little 
resistance.  When  Longstreet  discovered 
the  strength  of  our  force  he  retreated,  and 
we  entered  Knoxville  at  noon  on  the  6th. 
We  found  here,  to  our  surprise,  that  Burn- 
side  had  fully  twenty  days'  provisions, 
much  more,  in  fact,  than  at  the  beginning 
of  the  siege.  These  supplies  had  been 
drawn  from  the  French  Broad  by  boats, 
and  by  the  Sevierville  road.  The  loyal 
people  of  East  Tennessee  had  done  their 
utmost  through  the  whole  time  to  send 
in  provisions  and  forage,  and  Longstreet 
left  open  the  very  avenues  which  Burn- 
side  most  desired.  We  found  ammuni- 
tion very  short,  and  projectiles  for  our 
rifle  guns  had  been  made  in  the  town. 
The  utmost  constancy  and  unanimity  had 
prevailed  during  the  whole  siege;  from 
Burnside  down  to  the  last  private  no  man 
thought  of  retreat  or  surrender. 


The  next  morning  after  our  arrival, 
December  7th,  Sherman  started  back  to 
Chattanooga  with  all  his  force  not  needed  at 
Knoxville.  Colonel  Wilson  and  I  returned 
with  him,  reaching  Chattanooga  on  Decem- 
ber 10th.  Everything  in  the  army  was  now 
so  safe,  quiet,  and  regular  that  I  felt  I  could 
be  more  useful  anywhere  else,  so  the  day  I 
got  back  I  asked  leave  of  Mr.  Stanton  to 
go  North.  I  did  not  wait  for  his  reply, 
however.  The  morning  of  the  12th  Grant 
sent  for  me  to  come  to  his  headquarters, 
where  he  asked  me  to  go  to  Washington 
to  represent  more  fully  to  Stanton  and 
Halleck  his  wishes  with  regard  to  the  win- 
ter campaign.  As  the  matter  was  impor- 
tant, I  started  at  once,  telegraphing  Mr. 
Stanton  that,  if  he  thought  it  unnecessary 
for  me  to  go,  contrary  orders  would  reach 
me  at  any  point  on  the  railroad. 

GRANT    PLANS    TO    MOVE  TOWARDS  MODILE. 

I  reached  Washington  about  the  middle 
of    December,   and    immediately  gave  to 


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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


VIEW  OF  LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN,  SHOWING  THE  LADDERS  USED  BY  THE  UNION- 
SOLDIERS  IN  SCALING  THE  MOUNTAIN  DURING  UTHB  BATTLE  ABOVE  THE 
CLOLDS,"    NOVEMBER   24,    1863. 

Drawn  from  a  photograph  taken  the  day  after  the  battle. 


Mr.  Stanton  an  outline  of  Grant's  plan 
and  reasons  for  a  winter  campaign.  The 
President,  Mr.  Stanton,  and  General  Hal- 
leck  all  agreed  that  the  proposed  opera- 
tions were  Jhe  most  promising  in  sight; 
indeed,  Mr.  Stanton  was  enthusiastic  in 
favor  of  the  scheme  as  I  presented  it  to 
him.  He  said  that  the  success  of  Grant's 
campaign  would  end  the  war  in  the  Mis- 
sissippi Valley,  and  practically  make  pris- 
oners of  all  the  rebel  forces  in  the  interior 
of  Mississippi  and  Alabama,  without  our 
being  at  the  direct  necessity  of  guarding 
and  feeding  them.  But  Halleck,  as  a 
sine  qua  non,  insisted  that  East  Tennessee 
should  first  be  cleared  out  and  Longstreet 
driven  off  permanently  and  things  up  to 
date  secured,  before  new  campaigns  were 
entered  upon. 

The  result  was  that  no  winter  campaign 
was  made  in  1863-64  toward  the  Alabama 
River  towns  and  Mobile.  Its  success,  in 
my  opinion,  was  certain,  and  I  so  repre- 
sented to  Mr.  Stanton.     Without  jeopard- 


izing our  interests  in  any  other 
quarter,  Grant  would  have 
opened  the  Alabama  River  and 
captured  Mobile  a  full  year  be- 
fore it  finally  fell.  Success 
meant  permanent  security  for 
everything  we  had  already  laid 
hold  of,  and  would  at  once 
have  freed  many  thousands  of 
garrison  troops  fpr  service  else- 
where. As  long  as  the  rebels 
held  Alabama,  they  had  a  base 
from  which  to  strike  Tennessee. 
I  had  unbounded  confidence  in 
Grant's  skill  and  energy  to 
conduct  such  a  campaign  into 
the  interior,  cutting  loose  en- 
tirely from  his  base  and  subsist- 
ing off  the  enemy's  country. 
At  the  time  he  had  the  troops, 
and  could  have  finished  the  job 
in  three  months. 

After  I  had  explained  fully 
my  mission  from  Grant,  I  asked 
the  Secretary  what  he  wanted 
me  to  do.  Mr.  Stanton  told 
me  he  would  like  to  have  me 
remain  in  the  Department  until 
I  was  needed  again  at  the  front. 
Accordingly  I  was  given  an 
office  in  the  War  Department, 
and  began  to  do  the  regular 
work  of  an  assistant  to  the 
Secretary  of  War.  This  was 
the  first  time  since  my  relations 
with  the  War  Department  be- 
gan that  I  had  been  thrown 
much  with  the  Secretary,  and  I  was  very 
glad  to  have  an  opportunity  to  observe 
him. 

EDWIN    M.    STANTON. 

Mr.  Stanton  was  a  short,  thick,  dark 
man,  with  a  very  large  head  and  a  mass  of 
black  hair.  His  nature  was  intense,  and 
he  was  one  of  the  most  eloquent  men  that 
I  ever  met.  Stanton  was  entirely  absorbed 
in  his  duties,  and  his  energy  in  prosecut- 
ing them  was  something  almost  superhu- 
man. When  he  took  hold  of  the  War  De- 
partment the  armies  seemed  to  grow,  and 
they  certainly  gained  in  force  and  vim  and 
thoroughness. 

One  of  the  first  things  which  struck  me 
in  Mr.  Stanton  was  his  deep  religious 
feeling  and  his  familiarity  with  the  Bible. 
He  must  have  studied  the  Bible  a  great 
deal  when  he  was  a  boy.  He  had  the 
firmest  conviction  that  the  Lord  directed 
our  armies.  Over  and  over  again  have  I 
heard  him  express  the  same  opinion  which 


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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


439 


he  wrote  to  the  "Tribune" 
after  Donelson:  "  Much  has  re- 
cently been  said  of  military 
combinations  and  organizing 
victory.  I  hear  such  phrases 
with  apprehension.  They  com- 
menced in  infidel  France  with 
the  Italian  campaign,  and  re- 
sulted in  Waterloo.  Who  can 
organize  victory  ?  Who  can 
combine  the  elements  of  suc- 
cess on  the  battle-field  ?  We 
owe  our  recent  victories  to  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord,  that  moved 
our  soldiers  to  rush  into  battle, 
and  filled  the  hearts  of  our 
enemies  with  dismay.  The 
inspiration  that  conquered  in 
battle  was  in  the  hearts  of  the 
soldiers  and  from  on  high;  and 
wherever  there  is  the  same  in- 
spiration there  will  be  the  same 
results."  There  was  never  any 
cant  in  Stanton's  religious  feel- 
ing. It  was  the  straightforward 
expression  of  what  he  believed 
and  lived,  and  was  as  simple 
and  genuine  and  real  to  him  as 
the  principles  of  his  business. 

Stanton  was  a  serious  student 
of  history.  He  had  read  many 
books  on  the  subject — more 
than  on  any  other,  I  should  say 
— and  he  was  fond  of  discussing 
historical  characters  with  his 
associates,  not  that  he  made  a  show  of  his 
learning.  He  was  fond,  too,  of  discussing 
legal  questions,  and  would  listen  with 
eagerness  to  the  statement  of  cases  in  which 
friends  had  been  interested.  He  was  a 
man  who  was  devoted  to  his  friends,  and 
he  had  a  good  many  with  whom  he  liked 
to  sit  down  and  talk.  In  conversation  he 
was  witty  and  satirical  ;  he  told  a  story 
well,  and  was  very  companionable. 

There  is  a  popular  impression  that  Mr. 
Stanton  took  a  malevolent  delight  in  brow- 
beating his  subordinates,  and  every  now 
and  then  making  a  spectacle  of  some  poor 
officer  or  soldier  who  unfortunately  fell  into 
his  clutches  in  the  Secretary's  reception- 
room  for  the  edification  of  bystanders. 
This  idea,  like  many  other  notions  concern- 
ing great  men,  is  largely  a  mistaken  one. 
The  stories  which  are  told  of  Mr.  Stan- 
ton's impatience  and  violence  arc  exag- 
gerated. He  could  speak  in  a  very  per- 
emptory tone,  but  I  never  heard  him  say 
anything  that  could  be  called  vituperative. 

There  were  certain  men  in  whom  he  had 
little  faith,  and  I  have  heard  him  speak  to 


VIEW    FROM    LOOKOUT   MOUNTAIN   OVER  THE  TENNESSEE  VALLEY. 


some  of  these  in  a  tone  of  severity.  He 
was  a  man  of  the  quickest  intelligence, 
and  understood  a  thing  before  half  of  it 
was  told  him.  His  judgment  was  just  as 
swift,  and  when  he  got  hold  of  a  man  who 
did  not  understand,  who  did  not  state  his 
case  clearly,  he  was  very  impatient. 

If  Stanton  liked  a  man,  he  was  always 
pleasant.  I  was  with  him  for  several 
years  in  the  most  confidential  relations, 
and  I  can  now  recall  only  one  instance  of 
his  speaking  to  me  in  a  harsh  tone.  It 
was  a  curious  case. 

Among  the  members  of  Congress  at  that 
period  was  a  Jew  named  Strouse.  One  of 
Strouse's  race,  who  lived  in  Virginia, 
had  gone  down  to  the  mouth  of  the  James 
River  when  General  Butler  was  at  Fort 
Monroe,  and  announced  his  wish  to  leave 
the  Confederacy.  Now,  the  orders  were 
that  when  a  man  came  to  a  commanding 
officer  with  a  request  to  go  through  the 
lines,  he  was  to  be  examined  and  all  the 
money  he  had  was  to  be  taken  from  him. 
General  Butler  had  taken  from  this  Vir- 
ginia friend  of  Strouse   between  $50,000 

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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


and  $75,000.  When  a  general  took  money 
in  this  way,  he  had  to  deposit  it  at  once  in 
the  Treasury;  there  a  strict  account  was 
kept  of  the  amount,  whom  it  was  taken  by, 
and  whom  it  was  taken  from.  Butler  gave 
a  receipt  to  this  man,  and  he  afterward 
came  to  Washington  to  get  his  money. 
He  and  Strouse 
came  to  the  War 
Department, 
where  they  both- 
ered Mr.  Stanton 
a  good  deal. 
Finally  Mr. 
Stanton  sent  for 
me. 

"Strouse  is 
after  me,"  he 
said;  "  he  wants 
that  money,  and 
I  want  you  to 
settle  the  mat- 
ter." 

"What  shall  I 
do,"  I  asked; 
"what  are  the 
orders?"  He 
took  the  papers 
in  the  case  and 
wrote  on  the 
back  of  them: 


44  Referred  to  Mr. 
Dana,  Assistant  Sec- 
retary of  War,  to  be 
settled  as  in  his  judg- 
ment shall  be  best. 
44  E.  M.  Stanton." 


At  the  time  that  I  entered  the  War  De- 
partment for  regular  duty,  it  was  a  very 
busy  place.  Mr.  Stanton  frequently 
worked  late  at  night,  keeping  his  carriage 
waiting  for  him.  I  never  worked  at  night, 
as  my  eyes  would  not  allow  it.  I  got 
to   my  office   about   nine   o'clock  in   the 

morning,  and  I 
staid  there  nearly 
the  whole  day, 
for  I  made  it  a 
rule  never  to  go 
away  until  my 
desk  was  cleared. 
When  I  arrived 
I  usually  found 
on  my  table  a 
big  pile  of  papers 
which  were  to  be 
acted  on,  papers 
of  every  sort 
that  had  come  to 
me  from  the  dif- 
ferent depart- 
ments of  the 
office.  Most  of 
these  came  from 
the  Ordnance 
Department ;  that 
is,  they  referred 
to  the  supply  of 
arms  and  ammu- 
nition. 

The  business  of 
the  Department 
was  something 
enormous.  Near- 
ly $285,000,000 
were  paid  out 


GENERAL  UKAXTON  BR  AGO,  COMMANDER  OF  THE  CONFEDERATE  ARMY 
AT  THE  BATTLE  OF  CHATTANOOGA. 

The  man  then 
turned  his  attention  from  the  Secretary  to 
me.     I   looked  into  the  matter,  and  gave 
him  back  the  money.     The  next  day  Mr. 
Stanton    sent    for   me.       I   saw    he    was 


angry. 

44  Did 
money  ? ' 


his 


to 


you    give    that    Jew    back 
'  he  asked  in  a  harsh  tone. 
Yes    sir. ' * 

"Wel'l,''    he    said,    "I   should    like 
know  by  what  authority  you  did  it." 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me  while  I  go  to 
my  room,  I  will  show  my  authority  to 
you,"  I  replied. 

So  I  went  up  and  brought  down  the 
paper  he  had  indorsed,  and  read  to  him: 

"  Referred  to  Mr.  Dana,  Assistant  Sec- 
retary of  War,  to  be  settled  as  in  his  judg- 
ment shall  be  best."  I  handed  it  over  to 
him.  He  looked  at  it,  and  then  he  laughed. 
"  You  are  right,"  he  said;  "  you  have  got 
me  this  time."  That  was  the  only  time  he 
spoke  to  me  in  a  really  harsh  tone. 


that  year  (from  June,  1863,  to  June,  1864) 
by  the  Quartermaster's  office,  and  $221,- 
000,000  stood  in  accounts  at  the  end  of 
the  year  awaiting  examination  before  pay- 
ment was  made.  We  had  to  buy  every 
conceivable  thing  that  an  army  of  men 
could  need.  We  bought  fuel,  forage,  fur- 
niture, coffins,  medicine,  horses,  mules, 
telegraph  wire,  sugar,  coffee,  flour,  cloth, 
caps,  guns,  powder,  and  thousands  of 
other  things.  Sometimes  our  supplies 
came  by  contract;  again  by  direct  pur- 
chase; again  by  manufacture.  Of  course, 
by  the  fall  of  1863  the  army  was  pretty 
well  supplied;  still  that  year  we  bought 
over  3,000,000  pairs  of  trousers,  nearly 
5,000,000  flannel  shirts  and  drawers,  some 
7,000,000  pairs  of  stockings,  325,000  mess 
pans,  207,000  camp  kettles,  over  13,000 
drums,  and  14,830  fifes.  It  was  my  duty 
to  make  contracts  for  many  of  these  sup- 
plies. 


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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


441 


In  making  contracts  for  supplies  of  all 
kinds,  we  were  obliged  to  take  careful  pre- 
cautions against  frauds.  I  had  a  colleague 
in  the  Department,  the  Hon.  Peter  H. 
Watson,  the  distinguished  patent  lawyer, 
who  had  a  great 
knack  at  de- 
tecting army 
frauds.  One 
which  Watson 
had  spent  much 
time  in  trying 
to  ferret  out 
came  to  light 
soon  after  I 
went  into  office. 
This  was  an  ex- 
tensive fraud  in 
forage  fur- 
nished to  the 
Army  of  the 
Potomac.  The 
trick  of  the 
fraud  consisted 
in  a  dishonest 
mixture  of  oats 
and  Indian  corn 
for  the  horses 
and  mules  of 
the  army.  By 
changing  the 
proportions  of 
the  two  sorts  of 
grain,  the  con- 
tractors were 
able  to  make  a 
great  difference 
in  the  cost  of 
the  bushel,  on 
account  of  the 
difference  in  the 
weight    and 

price  of  the  grain,  and  it  was  difficult  to 
detect  the  cheat.  However,  Watson  found 
it  out,  and  at  once  arrested  the  men  who 
were  most  directly  involved. 

Soon  after  the  arrest  Watson  went  to 
New  York.  While  he  was  gone,  certain 
parties  from  Philadelphia, interested  in  the 
swindle,  came  to  me  at  the  War  Depart- 
ment. Among  them  was  the  president  of 
the  Corn  Exchange.  They  paid  me  %$$*' 
000  to  cover  the  sum  which  one  of  the 
men  confessed  he  had  appropriated;  $32,- 
000  was  restored  by  another  individual. 
The  morning  after  this  transaction  the 
Philadelphians  returned  to  me,  demanding 
that  both  the  villains  should  be  released, 
and  that  the  papers  and  funds  belonging 
to  them,  taken  at  the  time  of  their  arrest, 
should  be  restored.     It  was  my  judgment 


GENERAL  JAMKS   I.ONGSTREET,  COMMANDER  OF  THE  CONFEDERATE    FORCE 
OI'ERATIKG   AGAINST   KNOXVILLE    IN    l86j. 


that,  instead  of  being  released,  they  should 
be  remanded  to  solitary  confinement  until 
they  could  clear  up  all  the  forage  frauds 
and  make  complete  justice  possible.  Then 
I    would    have    released   them,    but    not 

before.  So  I 
telegraphed  to 
Watson  what 
had  happened, 
and  asked  him 
to  return  to  pre- 
vent any  false 
step. 

Now  it  hap- 
pened that  the 
men  arrested 
were  of  some 
political  im- 
portance in 
Pennsylvania, 
and  eminent 
politicians  took 
a  hand  in  get- 
ting them  out 
of  the  scrape. 
Among  others 
the  Hon.  David 
Wilmot,  ex-Sen- 
ator of  the  Uni- 
ted States  and 
author  of  the 
famous  Wilmot 
proviso,  was 
very  active.  He 
went  to  Mr. 
Lincoln,  and 
made  such  rep- 
res  entations 
and  appeals 
that  finally  the 
President  con- 
sented to  go 
with  him  over  to  the  War  Department  and 
see  Watson  in  his  office.  Wilmot  re- 
mained outside,  and  Mr.  Lincoln  went  in 
to  labor  with  the  Assistant  Secretary. 
Watson  eloquently  described  the  nature 
of  the  fraud,  and  the  extent  to  which  it 
had  already  been  developed  by  his  partial 
investigation.  The  President  in  reply 
dwelt  upon  the  fact  that  a  large  amount 
of  money  had  been  refunded  by  the  guilty 
men,  and  urged  the  greater  question  of 
the  safety  of  the  cause  and  the  necessity 
of  preserving  united  the  powerful  support 
which  Pennsylvania  was  giving  to  the  ad- 
ministration in  suppressing  the  rebellion. 
Watson  answered: 

44  Very  well,  Mr.  President,  if  you  wish 
to  have  these  men  released,  all  that  is  nec- 
essary is  to  give  the  order;  bat  I  shall  ask 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


442 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


to  have  it  in  writing.  In  such  a  case  as 
this  it  would  not  be  safe  for  me  to  obey  a 
verbal  order;  and  let  me  add  that,  if  you  do 
release  them,  the  fact  and  the  reason  will 
necessarily  become  known  to  the  people." 

Finally  Mr.  Lincoln  took  up  his  hat 
and  went  out.  Wilmot  was  waiting  in  the 
corridor,  and  came  to  meet  him. 

"  Wilmot,"  he  said,  "  I  can't  do  any- 
thing with  Watson ;  he  won't  release  them. ' ' 

The  reply  that  Wilmot  made  to  this  re- 
mark cannot  be  printed  here,  but  it  did  not 
affect  the  judgment  nor  the  action  of  the 
President. 

The  men  were  retained  for  a  long  time 
afterward.  The  fraud  was  fully  investi- 
gated, and  future  swindles  of  the  kind 
were  rendered  impossible.  If  Watson 
could  have  had  his  way,  the  guilty  parties 
— and  there  were  some  whose  names  never 
got  to  the  public — would  have  been  tried  by 
military  commission  and  sternly  dealt  with. 
But  my  own  reflections  upon  the  subject 
led  me  to  the  conclusion  that  the  modera- 
tion of  the  President  was  wiser  than  the 
unrelenting  justice  of  the  Assistant  Sec- 
retary would  have  been. 

A    LETTER    FROM     GENERAL    SHERMAN. 

Not  a  little  of  my  time  at  the  Depart- 
ment was  taken  up  with  people  who  had 
missions  of  some  kind  within  the  lines  of 
the  army.  I  remember  one  of  these  par- 
ticularly, because  it  brought  me  a  charac- 
teristic letter  from  General  Sherman. 
There  was  much  suffering  among  the  loyal 
citizens  and  the  Quakers  of  East  Tennes- 
see in  the  winter  of  1863-64,  and  many 
relief  committees  came  to  us  seeking  trans- 
portation and  safe  conduct  for  themselves 
and  their  supplies  into  that  country. 
Some  of  these  were  granted,  to  the  annoy- 
ance of  General  Sherman,  then  in  com- 
mand of  the  Military  Division  of  the 
Mississippi.  The  reasons  for  his  objec- 
tions he  gave  in  the  following  letter  to  me, 
which  has  never  been  published  before: 

Headquarters     Military     Division     of    the 
Mississippi. 
Nashville,  Tenn.,  April 21,  1864. 
C.  A.  Dana,  Esq., 

Assistant  Secretary  of  War,  Washington. 
My  dear  Friend, — It  may  be  Parliamentary,  but 
is  not  Military,  for  me  to  write  you  ;  but  I  feel  as- 
sured anything  I  may  write  will  only  have  the  force 
of  a  casual  conversation,  such  as  we  have  indulged 
in  by  the  camp  fire  or  as  we  jogged  along  by  the 
road.  The  text  of  my  letter  is  one  you  gave  a  Phila- 
delphia gentleman  who  is  going  up  to  East  Tennes- 
see to  hunt  up  his  brother  Quakers  and  administer 
the  bounties  of  his  own  and  his  fellow  citizens' 
charity.  Now  who  would  stand  in  the  way  of  one 
so  kindly  and  charitably  disposed?    Surely  not  I. 


But  other  questions  present  themselves.  We  have 
been  working  hard  with  tens  of  thousands  of  men, 
and  at  a  cost  of  millions  of  dollars,  to  make  railroads 
to  carry  to  the  line  of  the  Tennessee  enough  provi- 
sions and  material  of  war  to  enable  us  to  push  in  our 
physical  force  to  the  next  stop  in  the  war.  I  have 
found,  on  personal  inspection,  that  hitherto  the  rail- 
roads have  barely  been  able  to  feed  our  men,  that 
mules  have  died  by  the  thousand,  that  arms  and 
ammunition  had  [have]  laid  in  the  depot  for  two 
weeks  for  want  of  cars,  that  no  accumulation  at  all 
of  clothing  and  stores  had  been  or  could  be  moved  at 
Chattanooga,  and  that  it  took  four  sets  of  cars  and 
locomotives  to  accommodate  the  passes  given  by 
military  commanders ;  that  gradually  the  wants  of 
citizens  and  charities  were  actually  consuming  the 
real  resources  of  a  road  designed  exclusively  for  army 
purposes.  You  have  been  on  the  spot,  and  can 
understand  my  argument.  At  least  one  hundred 
citizens  daily  presented  good  claims  to  go  forward 
— women  to  attend  sick  children,  parents  in  search 
of  the  bodies  of  some  slain  in  battle.  Sanitary  Com- 
mittees sent  by  States  and  corporations  to  look  after 
the  personal  wants  of  their  constituents,  ministers 
and  friends  to  minister  to  the  Christian  wants  of  their 
flocks ;  men  who  had  fled,  anxious  to  go  back  to 
look  after  lost  families,  etc.,  etc.;  and  more  still,  the 
tons  of  goods  which  they  all  bore  on  their  merciful 
errands.  None  but  such  as  you,  who  have  been 
present  and  seen  the  tens,  hundreds,  and  thousands 
of  such  cases,  can  measure  them  in  the  aggregate 
and  segregate  the  exceptions. 

I  had  no  time  to  hesitate,  for  but  a  short  month 
was  left  me  to  prepare,  and  I  must  be  ready  to  put 
in  motion  near  one  hundred  thousand  men  to  move 
when  naught  remains  to  save  life.  I  figured  up  the 
mathematics,  and  saw  that  I  must  have  daily  145  car 
loads  of  essentials  for  thirty  days  to  enable  me  to  fill 
the  requirement.  Only  seventy-five  daily  was  all  the 
roads  were  doing.  Now  I  have  got  it  up  to  135. 
Troops  march,  cattle  go  by  the  road,  sanitary  and 
sutler's  stores  limited,  and  all  is  done  that  human 
energy  can  accomplish.  Yet  come  these  pressing 
claims  of  charity,  by  men  and  women  who  cannot 
grasp  the  Great  Problem.  My  usual  answer  is, 
"  Show  me  that  your  presence  at  the  front  is  more 
valuable  than  200  pounds  of  powder,  bread,  or  oats  ; " 
and  it  is  generally  conclusive.  I  have  given  Mr. 
Savery  a  pass  on  your  letter,  and  it  takes  200  pounds 
of  bread  from  our  soldiers,  or  the  same  of  oats  from 
our  patient  mules  ;  but  I  could  not  promise  to  feed 
the  suffering  Quakers  at  the  expense  of  our  army. 
I  have  ordered  all  who  cannot  provide  food  at  the 
front  to  be  allowed  transportation  back  in  our  empty 
cars ;  but  I  cannot  undertake  to  transport  the  food 
needed  by  the  worthy  East  Tennesseeans  or  any  of 
them.  In  Peace  there  is  a  beautiful  harmony  in  all 
the  departments  of  life — they  all  fit  together  like  the 
Chinese  puzzle  ;  but  in  War  all  is  ajar.  Nothing 
fits,  and  it  is  the  struggle  between  the  stronger  and 
weaker ;  and  the  latter,  however  it  may  appeal  to  the 
better  feelings  of  our  nature,  must  kick  the  beam. 
To  make  war,  we  must  and  will  harden  our  hearts. 

Therefore,  when  preachers  clamor  and  the  sani- 
taries  wail,  don't  join  in,  but  know  that  war,  like  the 
thunderbolt,  follows  its  laws,  and  turns  not  aside 
even  if  the  beautiful,  the  virtuous,  and  charitable 
stand  in  its  path. 

When  the  day  and  the  hour  comes,  I'll  strike  Joe 
Johnston,  be  the  result  what  it  may  ;  but  in  the  time 
allotted  to  me  for  preparation  I  must  and  will  be 
selfish  in  making  those  preparations  which  I  know 
to  be  necessary.  Your  friend, 

W.  T.  Sherman, 

Major-  General. 

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ICE   BREAKING  UP  ON  THE   YUKON   IN  THB  SPRING. 

HO,    FOR    THE    KLONDIKE! 

By  Hamlin  Garland, 

Author  of  "  Main-Traveled  Roads,"  "  Prairie  Folks,"  etc. 

THE   VARIOUS   WAYS   IN.— WHERE   THE   GOLD  IS  FOUND  AND    HOW   IT  IS  GOT.— 
WHAT    NEW   SETTLERS   MAY   HOPE    FOR. 

Editor's  Note.— This  article  embodies  the  latest  and  most  authentic  general  information  regarding  the  Klondike 
region  and  the  roads  leading  into  it.  Mr.  Garland  went  directly  to  the  Hon.  Clifford  Sifton,  Canadian  Minister  of  the 
Interior,  through  whose  courtesy  interviews  were  held  with  the  specially  detailed  engineers  just  returned  from  surveying 
the  various  routes.  These  official  surveyors  went  carefully  over  the  whole  subject  with  Mr.  Garland,  putting  him  in 
possession  of  just  the  facts  which  his  purpose  required.  Much  of  the  matter  of  the  article  is  given,  indeed,  in  their  own 
words.  It  embodies  also  matter  from  valuable  official  reports,  some  of  which  are  not  yet  published.  We  are  not  per- 
mitted to  name  all  the  men  who  thus  served  Mr.  Garland,  but  among  them  were  Mr.  William  Ogilvie  and  Mr.  J.  J. 
McArthur,  civil  engineers  in  the  service  of  the  Dominion  Government ;  and  Dr.  George  M.  Dawson,  head  of  the  Do- 
minion Geological  Department.  Through  the  kindness  of  Captain  Deville,  Dominion  Surveyor  General,  we  are  enabled 
also  to  reproduce  hitherto  unpublished  photographs  of  scenes  along  the  several  routes  taken  by  the  Dominion  topographi- 
cal surveyors,  W.  Ogilvie  and  Mr.  Jennings. 

THE  word  *'  Klondike"  is  now  univer-  It  is  a  grim  country,  a  country  of  ex- 
sally  taken  to  mean  the  gold  country  tremes;  it  has  a  long  and  sunless  winter, 
of  the  whole  mighty  region  of  the  British  and  a  short,  hot,  moist  summer.  In  win- 
Northwest  Territory  which  lies  between  ter  the  sun  hardly  makes  itself  felt,  rising 
the  Continental  Divide  on  the  east  and  the  pale  and  white  only  for  a  few  hours  above 
Coast  Range  on  the  west.  Broadly  speak-  the  horizon.  In  summer  it  shines  all  day 
ing,  this  region  is  300  miles  wide  and  600  and  part  of  the  night.  In  July,  when 
miles  long.  It  reaches  from  Teslin  Lake  rain  is  not  falling,  the  air  is  close  and  hot, 
to  Circle  City,  which  lies  within  the  Arctic  the  thermometer  often  registering  100  in 
Zone.  The  scale  of  measurements  is  enor-  the  shade.  Moss  covers  the  high  ground 
mous.  The  Yukon  itself,  in  midsummer,  is  like  a  wet  thick  sponge  throughout  vast 
actually  navigable  for  boats  more  than  2,300  areas,  and  the  soil  is,  in  effect,  perpetually 
miles.  In  general  the  region  may  be  de-  frozen.  There  is  little  vegetable  mold, 
scribed  as  a  wide,  hilly  valley,  meshed  with  and  plant  life  is  sparse.  Steam  arises 
converging  streams,  deep  sunk  in  the  rocks,  under   the   hot   sun  from  the  cold,  rain- 


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444 


HO,   FOR    THE  KLONDIKE! 


A    VIEW    FROM    THE    MOUNTAIN    TOP    EAST    OF   DAWSON   CITY,    LOOKING  NORTHWEST  ACROSS  YUKON   VALLEY.      PHOTOGRAPH    B> 

W.    OGILVIE. 


soaked  moss,  and  the  nights  are  foggy  and 
damp  even  in  June  and  July.  Gnats  and 
mosquitoes  move  to  and  fro  in  dense 
clouds  during  midsummer,  and  add  to  the 
many  discomforts  and  discouragements 
of  the  region.  Life  is  a  warfare.  Fuel 
is  scarce.  There  is  little  game,  and  not 
many  fish.  There  never  were  many  In- 
dians in  the  district — the  valley  is  too  in- 
hospitable for  life  of  any  kind  to  greatly 
abound.  Agriculture  is  practically  impos- 
sible. It  is  likely  to  freeze  any  night  of 
the  year.  The  climate,  in  short,  is  sub- 
arctic in  character,  and  in  and  about  Daw- 
son City  nearly  all  the  features  of  the 
Arctic  Zone  are  realized.  The  ice  does 
not  go  out  of  the  river,  even  at  Dawson, 
till  late  in  May  or  June,  and  the  river 
closes  early  in  September. 

EDMONTON  AND  PEACE  RIVER  ROUTE. 

Having  decided  that  he  wishes  to  take 
the  risk  involved  in  entering  this  grim 
country,  the  miner  must  decide  on  his 
route.  The  routes  may  be  divided  into 
two  groups:  the  overland  and  the  sea- 
port. Of  the  overland,  there  are  at  pres- 
ent three:  the  Edmonton  and  Peace  River 


route,  "  the  Old  Telegraph  Trail,"  and  the 
Kamloops  inland  route.  The  Edmonton 
route  begins  at  Edmonton,  a  small  town 
at  the  end  of  a  northern  spur  of  the  Ca- 
nadian Pacific  Railway,  and  proceeds  by 
way  of  Little  Slave  Lake  to  Peace  River, 
thence  across  the  divide  into  the  valley 
of  the  Stikine  River  to  Telegraph  Creek 
and  Teslin  Lake,  which  is  the  head  waters 
of  the  Yukon.  This  route  is  a  very  long 
one,  and  little  information  i$  obtainable 
concerning  it.  It  is  undoubtedly  practi- 
cable, and  will  be  largely  traveled  by 
those  not  in  breathless  haste  to  get  to 
Dawson  City.  It  offers  abundant  fields 
for  prospecting,  and  is  a  pleasant  summer 
route.  It  will  take  about  sixty  days  to  go 
from  Edmonton  to  Teslin  Lake.  The 
citizens  of  Edmonton  are  using  all  means 
to  make  this  route  easy  and  safe.  It 
cannot  be  safely  used  before  the  middle  of 
May.  Pack  horses  are  plentiful,  and  feed 
is  good  from  May  15th  to  November. 

THE    OLD    TELEGRAPH    TRAIL. 

The  second  overland  route,   the  "old 
telegraph   trail,"    begins   at   Ashcroft,    a 
small  village  on  the  Canadian  Pacific  Rail- 
Digitized  by  VjOOQlC 


HAMLIN  GARLAND, 


445 


VIEW   ON    ELDORADO   CREEK,    LOOKING  SOUTH.      PHOTOGRAPH    BV   W.    OG1LVIE. 

Eldorado  Creek  is  a  branch  of  the  Klondike.    It  flows  through  the  ravine  shown  on  the  left  in  the  picture.    The  ravine 

in  the  foreground  is  the  bed  of  French  Creek. 


way,  and  follows  the  Fraser  River  over  an 
excellent  stage  road  constructed  by  the 
Canadian  government  to  the  little  town 
of  Quesnelle,  223  miles  north.  Good 
stopping-places  abound  along  the  road. 
Here  the  road  ends,  and  the  trail  turns  to 
the  west,  and  passing  over  a  nearly  level 
country  with  good  grass,  reaches  Fort 
Fraser  on  Fraser  Lake,  125  miles  from 
Quesnelle.  Fort  Fraser  is  a  Hudson  Bay 
post  and  trading-store,  with  two  white 
men  and  several  families  of  Indians,  quite 
well  civilized,  settled  near.  A  limited 
amount  of  supplies  will  be  obtainable 
here.  Up  to  this  point  the  trail  is  quite 
level,  and  though  there  are  hundreds  of 
creeks,  none  are  deep  or  hard  to  pass. 
The  three  rivers,  the  Blackwater,  the  Mud, 
and  the  Nechaco,  can  be  forded  except  in 
high  water,  when  rafts  will  have  to  be  used 
and  poled  or  paddled  across.  Neither  of 
them  is  very  wide.  Many  trails  cross  the 
route,  and  it  will  be  necessary  to  have  a 
native  guide,  unless  some  means  should  be 
taken  to  mark  the  main  trail.  "In  this 
125  miles  there  are  over  300  good  hay 
swamps  and  many  Indian  villages  where 
feed  for  the  horses  can  be  found  in  abun- 


dance. Indeed,  the  longest  drive  without 
good  feed  for  the  horses  will  not  exceed 
fifteen  miles/'  * 

Beyond  Fort  Fraser  the  next  supply 
point  is  Stuart,  a  Hudson  Bay  post,  with 
three  or  four  whites  and  eighty  or  one 
hundred  Indians,  who  live  in  cabins  and 
make  their  living  by  hunting,  fishing,  and 
trapping.  From  Fort  Fraser  to  Hazleton 
is  probably  325  miles.  The  trip  from 
Quesnelle  to  Hazleton  can  be  made  by 
pack  animals,  and  will  require  from  six- 
teen to  twenty  days.  Hazleton  has  a 
small  population  of  prospectors  who  win- 
ter in  the  neighborhood.  A  Hudson  Bay 
post,  a  few  cabins,  and  a  couple  of  stores 
are  all  that  are  to  be  found  here,  although 
about  15,000  Indians  trade  at  this  point. 
The  goods  are  brought  up  by  a  Hudson 
Bay  boat  on  the  Skeena  River  during  high 
water. 

"From  here  it  is  about  200  miles  to 
Telegraph  Creek.  The  trail  has  been 
traveled    for    thirty-five    years,    and    the 

*  From  letters  of  the  committee  sent  out  to  report  to  the 
Spokane  "Spokesman"  on  the  condition  of  the  trail;  and 
also  from  letters  of  A.  L.  Poudrier,  Dominion  Land  Sur- 
veyor. The  word  "  trail  "  means  a  narrow  path,  admitting 
only  footmen  or  horses  in  single  file. 


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WHITE   PASS  TRAIL:   SHKAGWAY   RIVER   ABOVE   PORCUPINE  CKEEK.      HHOTOGRAHH    BY   MR.   JENNINGS. 


government  has  spent  thousands  of  dol- 
lars to  keep  it  in  first-class  condition.  It 
will  take  from  seven  to  ten  days  to  travel 
this  distance,  as  it  is  a  little  harder  than 
before  reaching  Hazleton.  There  are  two 
large  stores  at  Telegraph  Creek,  and  they 
do  a  great  business."  From  Telegraph 
Creek  to  Teslin  Lake  the  trail  will  be  the 
"  Stikine  route  "  now  being  opened  by  the 
Canadian  government.  It  is  estimated  to 
be  150  miles  long,  and  can  be  traversed 
in  ten  days  or  less.  At  Lake  Teslin  the 
trail  ends  and  the  water  way  begins. 

The  Ashcroft  trail  is  alluring.  The 
climate  is  genial  and  the  land  full  of 
game.  There  are  frequent  stopping- 
places,  and  the  Indians  are  friendly  and 
helpful.  The  advantages  of  this  route 
are  offset,  however,  by  obvious  disad- 
vantages. It  is  very  long.  According 
to  the  estimate  of  Senator  Reid,  it  will 
take  fifty  days  (forty  days  from  Quesnelle), 
though  by  going  in  light  it  could  be 
traversed  in  ten  days  less  time,  provided 
there  were  no  delays  for  bridge  building.  It 
would  be  possible  to  go  in  light,  sending 
the  bulk  of  the  outfit  by  way  of  Victoria  to 
Telegraph  Creek.  Part  of  the  outfit  could 
be  replenished  at  Hazleton.  It  would  not 
be  safe  to  leave  Quesnelle  till  the  grass 
came,  say  by  the  10th  of  May.  After  that 
time  the  telegraph  trail  would  be  a  com- 


paratively cheap  and  pleasant  route,  with 
no  duties  and  no  toll  to  pay.  It  is  reason- 
ably safe  to  count  on  the  early  building 
of  bridges  and  ferries. 

In  the  matter  of  outfitting,  it  is  proba- 
ble that  Kamloops,  Ashcroft,  and  Ques- 
nelle could  furnish  complete  outfits  for  a 
limited  number  of  pack  trains,  and  being 
upon  the  Canadian  Pacific  road,  supplies 
could  be  hurried  forward  by  telegraph 
from  Victoria,  Vancouver,  or  Winnipeg. 
The  only  American  outfitting  point  of  any 
considerable  size  for  this  route  is  Spokane. 
To  outfit  in  Spokane  under  present  rules 
would  make  the  outfit  dutiable  at  the  line. 
Ashcroft  is  a  village;  Kamloops  is  a  town 
of  nearly  2,000  inhabitants;  Quesnelle 
has  about  500  inhabitants.  It  would  be 
possible  also  to  outfit  at  Calgary  or  Win- 
nipeg or  even  at  St.  Paul  or  Minneapolis, 
shipping  the  goods  direct  to  Ashcroft,  Ed- 
monton, Hazelton,  or  Glenora,  according 
to  whichever  route  the  prospector  elected 
to  take. 

THE    KAMLOOPS    ROUTE. 

Kamloops,  the  next  town  east  of  Ash- 
croft, is  also  advertising  an  overland  route. 
As  between  Ashcroft  and  Kamloops,  Ash- 
croft has  the  advantage  of  a  good  wagon 
road  the  entire  distance  to  Quesnelle;  but 
the  people  of  Kamloops  are  actively  en- 


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PACKING  OVER  THE   SUMMIT  OF  THE   WHITE    PASS.      PHOTOGRAPH    BY  W.    OGILVIB. 


gaged  in  opening  a  road  which  they  claim 
runs  through  a  better  grass  country.  It 
passes  up  the  North  Thompson  River,  and 
crossing  the  divide,  follows  the  Fraser 
River  to  Fort  George,  thence  up  the 
Nechaco,  striking  the  Ashcroft  trail  at 
the  headwaters  of  the  Bulkley  River.  This 
road  is  not  yet  opened. 

Cattle  have  been  used  for  packing  in 
this  country  to  very  good  advantage. 
They  are  slower  than  horses,  but  carry 
about  the  same  amount,  and,  if  carefully 
used,  will  fatten  on  the  road  and  sell 
readily  to  the  butchers  at  the  end  of  the 
journey.  Horses  could  be  sold  at  Glen- 
ora,  probably,  though  this  is  a  risk. 

It  is  estimated  that  horses  will  cost 
about  thirty  dollars  at  Ashcroft;  and  each 
man  will  require  one  saddle  horse  and  two 
pack  horses.  He  is  then  his  own  master, 
and  expenses  thereafter  will  be  light.  It 
is  estimated  that  $200  would  enable  a 
man  to  go  through  from  Ashcroft  to  Teslin 
Lake,  but  no  one  should  undertake  the 
journey  with  less  than  $500  in  hand. 

THE    ST.    MICHAELS    ROUTE. 

Of  seaport  routes  there  are  six:  one 
by  way  of  St.  Michaels,  three  by  way  of 
Lynn  Canal,  one  by  way  of  the  Stikine 
River,  and  one  by  way  of  Taku  Inlet.    Of 


these,  the  longest,  safest,  and  most  leis- 
urely is  that  by  way  of  St.  Michaels. 
It  carries  the  miner  by  steamer  from  San 
Francisco,  Portland,  Tacoma,  Seattle,  or 
Victoria  to  the  mouth  of  the  Yukon,  thence 
by  river  steamboat  direct  to  Dawson  City 
and  other  gold  fields.  The  fare  by  this 
route  ranges  from  $150  to  $300,  and  in- 
cludes meals  and  berths,  and  the  free  trans- 
portation of  150  pounds  of  baggage.  The 
excess  baggage  charge  on  a  miner's  outfit 
is  about  ten  cents  per  pound.  There  are 
no  hardships  connected  with  this  method 
of  reaching  Dawson  City;  but  it  is  slow. 
It  is  more  than  4,000  miles  to  Dawson  from 
Seattle,  and  as  the  ice  does  not  go  out  of 
the  middle  river  until  June,  the  miner  will 
not  be  able  to  reach  his  mine  before  winter 
begins  to  return. 

Lynn  Canal  is  a  long  narrow  arm  of 
the  sea  which  runs  deep  into  the  high 
mountains  of  the  Alaskan  coast,  not  far 
from  the  town  of  Juneau.  It  is,  in  fact,  a 
deep,  narrow  chasm  or  cafion  between  the 
mountains,  into  which  the  Chilkat  and 
the  Chilkoot  rivers  empty.  At  this  point 
the  tide  waters  and  the  head  waters  of  the 
Yukon  are  but  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles 
apart,  and  because  of  that  fact  three  trails 
already  lead  across  the  divide.  Lynn  Ca- 
nal will  undoubtedly  be  the  best  known 
entry  point  on  the  Alaskan  coast.      Here 


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HO,  FOR   THE  KLONDIKE  I 


VIEW     LOOKING     WEST     FROM     THE     DALTON     TRAIL,    BETWEEN     DALTON'S    POST    AND     HOOTCH1     LAKE. 

JENNINGS. 


PHOTOGRAPH     RY    MR. 


is  situated  the  town  of  Shkagway,  which 
already  contains  2,000  inhabitants  and 
will  be  a  city  by  the  first  of  April.  From 
here  the  Chilkoot  Pass,  White  Pass,  and 
Dalton  trails  severally  make  their  start. 

THE    DALTON    TRAIL. 

The  Dalton  pack  trail  starts  from  the 
Chilkat  arm  of  Lynn  Canal,  and  strikes 
directly  towards  the  Lewis  River.  My  in- 
formation regarding  this  trail  is  derived 
mainly  from  an  interview  held  expressly 
for  McClure's  Magazine  with  Mr.  J.  J. 
McArthur,  Dominion  Land  Surveyor.  In 
reply  to  my  question,  "  How  could  I  go 
on  over  that  trail  from  Seattle,  Vancou- 
ver, or  Victoria?"  Mr.  McArthur  said: 
14  You  should  take  ship  for  Lynn  Canal 
and  land  at  Haines  Mission,  which  is  on 
the  Chilkoot  arm  of  Lynn  Canal  a  little 
below  Shkagway.* 

"  The  trail,  after  leaving  the  mission, 
leads  up  the  Chilkat  River  to  the  point 
where  the  Tlehini  River  comes  in,  then 
follows  the  Tlehini.     The  road  is  flat  and 

*  As  far  as  possible,  the  spelling  of  proper  names  adopted 
by  the  American  Geographical  Society  is  followed  in  this 
article. 


gravelly  to  this  point.  The  trail  now  be- 
gins to  climb.  It  is  an  old  Indian  trail, 
but  has  been  improved  by  Dalton.  After 
reaching  the  upland,  the  trail  enters  upon 
a  high  and  open  country  through  which  a 
wagon  road  is  possible  with  very  slight 
improvement,  such  as  clearing  out  timber 
and  grading  some  of  the  side  hills.  The 
trail  at  present  climbs  over  the  hills,  to 
avoid  the  wet  and  soggy  places. 

"  The  highest  point  is  3,100  feet  above 
the  sea,  and  is  covered  with  heather  and 
bunch  grass.  By  the  middle  of  May  feed 
is  good.  The  trail  crosses  the  Tlehini 
near  its  source,  at  a  point  called  Rainy 
Hollow,  where  is  considerable  timber. 
This  point  is  about  fifty  miles  from  tide 
water.  You  will  still  be  on  the  seaward 
slope,  but  pretty  close  to  the  divide. 
There  are  several  local  divides  to  cross 
before  you  reach  the  inner  watershed,  but 
they  are  not  difficult  to  cross.  You  will 
hardly  realize  that  you  are  crossing  from 
one  to  the  other.  You  will  next  come  to 
Dalton's  Post,  which  consists  of  a  large 
trading  store  with  an  Indian  village  near 
by.  After  leaving  Dalton's,  the  country 
will  continue  to  be  open  and  easy  of 
travel.      You   will  ascend  for  a  short  dis- 


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VIEW    ON   THE   DALTON   TRAIL,   SOUTHWEST  OF   DALTON  S  POST.      PHOTOGRAPH    BV  MR.   JENNINGS. 


tance  until  you  pass  the  head  waters  of 
the  Alsek  and  reach  the  watershed  of  the 
Yukon  and  Hootchi  Lake. 

"  It  is  impracticable  to  reach  Fort  Sel- 
kirk direct  from  this  point.     High,  mossy, 
and  rocky  hills  lie  between.      The  ridges 
are  covered  with  moss  like  a  huge  sponge 
right  up  to  the  summit,  and  underneath  is 
broken    rock,    making   it   a  very  difficult 
country    to    traverse.      The    trail    which 
you  will  follow  is  the  old  Indian  trail;  it 
bears  to  the  northeast  towards  the  Lewis 
River,  which    it  attains   at  the  mouth  of 
the     Nordenskiold,    and     keeping    down 
Lewis  River  ends  just  below  Rink  Rapids. 
This  half  of  the  trail  runs  through  wide, 
flat,  grassy  valleys,  and  the  entire  distance 
from    Haines    Mission    is   not  more    than 
245  miles.     Dalton  has  shortened  it  some- 
what and  improved  it  in  places,  but  does 
not  charge  toll.      The  trail  is  open  to  any 
one.       At  Rink   Rapids  there  is  very  con- 
siderable   timber,    some    of     it    eighteen 
inches    in    diameter,  so    that    lumber  for 
boats  will  be  plenty.      It  is  probable  that 
a    town    will   spring  up  at  the  end  of  the 
Dalton    trail,  for  it  is  sure  to  be  a  much 
traveled  route. 

"  You   cannot  start  on  this  trail  before 
the    15th  of  May,  but  you  should  be  on 


the  spot  a  little  earlier  and  have  your 
horses  and  their  packs  at  the  head  of  tide 
water,  which  would  save  forty  miles.  The 
goods  can  go  up  by  boat  to  the  Tlehini. 
If  you  go  in  light,  take  a  saddle  horse  and 
a  couple  of  pack  horses  for  each  man. 
You  can  reach  Rink  Rapids  in  ten  or  twelve 
days,  traveling  about  twenty  miles  a  day. 
In  summer  you  may  make  possibly  twenty- 
five  miles  per  day.  If  feeding-stations 
were  established,  one  could  go  through  at 
any  time.  There  are  fine  hay  lands  all 
along  this  route,  and  there  is  no  difficulty 
in  the  matter  of  feed  after  May  15th." 

The  intent  of  the  Dalton  trail,  as  well  as 
of  the^Chilkoot  and  White  Pass  trails,  is 
to  land  the  miner  in  some  one  of  the  head 
waters  of  the  Yukon,  in  order  that  he  may 
float  down  the  current  at  his  will.  In  each 
case  there  is  a  strip  of  American  soil  to 
cross  and  a  high  bleak  mountain  pass  to 
climb.  What  is  gained  by  easy  grade  is 
lost  in  distance. 


CHILKOOT    PASS    AND    WHITE    PASS    ROUTES. 

Beside  Chilkat  Inlet,  and  on  the  east  of 
it,  at  the  head  of  Lynn  Canal,  is  Chilkoot 
Inlet,  into  which  flows  Dyea  Inlet;  and  into 
Dyea  Inlet  flow  the  Shkagway  and  Dyea 

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HO,   FOR    THE  KLONDIKE! 


THE   YUKON    AT  THE    BOUNDARY   BETWEEN   ALASKA    AND    BRITISH     COLUMBIA.       THE   WHITE   LINE  AT    THE    RIGHT     IN    THB  PIC- 
TURE SHOWS   WHERE  THE    BOUNDARY   RUNS.      PHOTOGRAPH    BY   MR.  JENNINGS. 


rivers.  Up  the  Shkagway  River  runs  the 
White  Pass,  or  Shkagway,  route;  and  up 
the  Dyea  River  runs  the  Chilkoot  Pass,  or 
Dyea,  route.  The  distance  to  Lake  Linde- 
man  is  twenty-six  miles  by  the  Chilkoot 
Pass  route,  which  starts  at  the  town  of 
Dyea,  at  the  head  of  Dyea  Inlet ;  and  forty- 
six  miles  by  the  White  Pass  route,  which 
starts  at  the  town  of  Shkagway,  a  little 
lower  down  on  Dyea  Inlet.  The  two 
passes  are  not  very  widely  different  from 
each  other  in  character,  being  "simply 
narrow,  tortuous,  ever-ascending  gorges 
in  the  mountain-chain. ' '  They  are  shorter 
than  any  of  the  other  passes.  The  routes 
to  which  they  give  name,  though  rugged, 
steep,  and  exposed  to  violent  storms,  are 
likely  to  be  the  most  traveled  and  the 
most  over-worked  of  all  the  routes  to  the 
Yukon.  Everything  that  business  enter- 
prise can  do  to  facilitate  transportation  is 
being  done.  At  Shkagway  they  are  build- 
ing two  large  piers,  in  order  that  steamers 
may  lie  alongside  even  at  low  tide  and 
discharge  freight.  A  tramway  and  also  a 
wagon  road  are  building  from  the  wharf  at 
Shkagway  to  the  summit  of  the  White  Pass, 
which  is  several  hundred  feet  lower  than 
the  Chilkoot  Pass.  Bridges  are  being  built 
and  the  trail  improved.  These  improve- 
ments will  be  charged  for,  however.  Toll 
will  be  collected  for  use  of  the  bridges, 
and  during  the  rush  freights  will  be  high. 


Dyea  is  also  making  a  smart  bid  for 
traffic.  A  tramway  is  being  built  to  the 
mouth  of  the  caflon,  and  from  there  it  is 
proposed  to  carry  freight  to  the  summit  of 
Chilkoot  Pass  by  means  of  an  aerial  cable- 
way.  This  cable  road  is  expected  to  trans- 
port 1 20  tons  of  freight  daily. 

By  either  of  these  two  ways  the  traveler 
is  landed  at  Lake  Bennett  by  his  packers 
and  freighters,  and  thence  he  is  sup- 
posed to  be  able  to  make  his  way  down 
the  Lewis  River  without  further  expense. 
If  he  takes  one  route,  he  will  wish  he  had 
taken  the  other,  no  doubt.  The  cost  of 
getting  an  outfit  from  say  Seattle  or  Vic- 
toria will  be  about  ten  dollars  per  ton. 
The  cost  of  getting  it  over  the  passes  will 
range  all  the  way  from  thirty  to  fifty  cents 
per  pound.  "  If  you  go  in  before  the  mid- 
dle of  April  and  are  strong  and  active, 
you  may  be  able  to  take  your  outfit  in  on 
a  sled.  The  trail  is  better  when  packed 
deep  with  snow  than  when  bare  and 
boggy.  A  party  could  'double  teams ' 
in  hauling  hand-sleds,  and  in  this  way 
avoid  a  large  part  of  the  expense.  But  by 
neither  of  these  ways  is  the  journey  as 
simple  as  it  may  seem.  You  take  ship, 
for  example,  at  Seattle,  Tacoma,  or  Port- 
land, for  Shkagway.  You  pay,  first  of 
all,  fare  for  yourself,  freight  charges  for 
your  supplies,  horses,  implements,  what- 
ever you  have  with  you.     Three  or  four 


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HAMLIN  GARLAND. 


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days'  sail  takes  you  to  the  head  of  Dyea 
Inlet;  but  does  not,  by  any  means,  land 
you  at  the  trail.  You  are  at  Shkagway  or 
Dyea,  but  without  means  of  transporta- 
tion unless  you  have  brought  horses  with 
you.  If  you  hire  your  goods  transported, 
you  are  at  the  mercy  of  such  freighters 
as  have  this  matter  in  hand.  If  there  is 
a  great  rush,  which  is  likely,  there  may 
be  very  great  delay  in  getting  your  goods 
carried  even  to  the  end  of  the  wagon  road. 
From  the  end  of  the  wagon  road  your 
goods  must  be  packed  by  sled,  if  there  is 
snow;  or  upon  the  backs  of  men  or  horses, 
if  the  snow  has  melted;  and  the  cost  will 
be  very  great.  If  the  trail  should  be 
crowded,  as  is  likely  to  be  the  case,  very 
great  delay  may  be  experienced  in  getting 
to  the  summit.  Last  autumn  the  trails 
were  one  long  line  of  struggling  men  and 
horses,  and  the  price  of  packing  reached 
fifty-three  cents  per  pound. 

•'  Having  reached  Lake  Lindeman  at 
considerable  cost  and  after  much  longer 
delay  than  you  had  anticipated,  you  will 
find  yourself  again  helpless  on  the  shore  of 
the  lake.  A  ferry  charge  will  be  met,  and 
having  reached  the  end  of  the  lake  and  hav- 
ing crossed  the  portage  to  Lake  Bennett, 
while  you  are  done  with  packers,  your 
troubles  are  not  over.  By  the  ist  of  April 
there  will  be  very  little  timber  remaining 
out  of  which  to  construct  rafts.  If  there 
are  boats  for  freighting  purposes,  their 
owners  will  be  masters  of  the  situation, 
and  there  will  be  very  considerable  charges 
for  transportation  down  the  river.  Unless 
you  go  in  able  to  carry  your  own  outfit 
with  a '  knock-down  '  boat  capable  of  float- 
ing supplies  on  both  lake  and  river,  you 
will  be  at  the  mercy  of  the  transportation 
companies  on  either  side  of  the  summit." 

Undoubtedly,  with  plenty  of  money  it 
will  be  possible  to  go  from  Seattle,  Tacoma, 
Portland,  or  Victoria  to  the  head  waters 
of  the  Yukon  in  shorter  time  by  either 
Chilkoot  Pass  or  White  Pass  than  by  any 
other  route;  but  it  must  be  understood 
that  it  is  not,  and  will  not  be,  the  poor 
man's  route  during  the  rush  of  March  and 
April,  and  it  will  be  attended  by  many 
hardships  and  killing  hard  work. 

THE   ALL-CANADIAN    ROUTE.* 

Very  naturally  the  Canadian  people 
desire  to  have  it  known  that  there  is  to  be 

*  The  information  here  given  regarding  this  route  is  de- 
rived from  the  advance  sheets  of  a  special  report  to  the 
Dominion  Government.  For  the  privilege  of  using  this 
report,  I  am  indebted  to  the  courtesy  of  the  Hon.  Clifford 
Si f ton,  Canadian  Minister  of  the  Interior. 


an  all-Canadian  route  via  the  Stikine 
River.  If  you  desire  to  go  in  by  this  way 
you  will  proceed  to  Victoria,  Portland, 
Seattle,  or  Tacoma  by  any  convenient 
line  of  railway,  and  there  take  steamer 
to  Wrangell,  about  three  days'  sail  up  the 
coast.  From  Wrangell  you  will  be  trans- 
ported by  river  boats  up  the  Stikine  River 
to  Glenora,  a  distance  of  150  miles,  which 
will  take  several  days  longer.  From 
Glenora,  or  from  Telegraph  Creek,  which 
is  a  few  miles  beyond  Glenora,  you  will  be 
obliged  to  cross  by  pack  to  the  head  waters 
of  Teslin  Lake,  which  is  connected  by 
Teslin  River  with  Lewis  River,  and  so  with 
the  Yukon.  This  trail  is  about  175  miles 
long,*  but  it  is  comparatively  easy,  and 
will  be  shortened  considerably  as  soon  as 
spring  opens.  The  journey  across  country 
by  trail  can  be  made  as  comfortably  as  any 
travel  of  the  kind.  There  are  no  danger- 
ous features.  The  ground,  both  in  the 
open  and  timbered  district,  is  covered,  to 
a  depth  of  about  two  feet,  with  moss;  but 
during  the  open  season,  between  May  and 
the  middle  of  October,  sufficient  grass  for 
200  or  300  animals  can  be  obtained  all 
along  the  route.  It  would  not  be  practi- 
cable to  travel  over  this  trail  before  the 
ist  of  May,  as  snow  is  likely  to  be  on  the 
ground  in  many  places  and  the  grass  is 
not  far  enough  advanced  to  meet  the  re- 
quirements of  pack  animals.  There  are 
no  settlements  on  the  route. 

Teslin  Lake  opens  about  the  middle  of 
May,  and  closes  about  the  26th  of  October. 
Last  year  it  was  open  till  the  middle  of 
October,  and  there  was  no  indication  of 
its  closing  immediately.  The  slopes  and 
benches  along  Teslin  Lake  are  fairly  tim- 
bered with  a  growth  of  spruce  and  black 
pine,  the  average  size  of  this  timber  being 
about  ten  inches,  and  sufficient  for  scant- 
ling, flooring,  and  sheeting  for  house 
purposes  and  for  boat-building.  The  ma- 
chinery for  a  saw-mill  is  now  being  trans- 
ported across  the  portage  from  Telegraph 
Creek  to  Teslin  Lake;  the  same  company 
intend  to  place  a  steamboat  on  Teslin 
Lake  and  river  on  the  opening  of  naviga- 
tion, and  skiffs,  scow  boats,  etc.,  suitable 
for  navigating  the  Yukon  waters  are  to  be 
kept  for  sale. 

With  proper  roads  or  railway  facilities 
from  the  Stikine  to  Teslin  Lake,  no  better 
route  could  be  found  for  getting  into  the 
Yukon  country  from  the  Pacific  seaboard. 
The  region  about  Teslin  Lake,  including 

*  There  are  various  estimates  of  the  length  of  this  trail ; 
the  one  given  above  is  official.  The  trail  is  to  be  much 
shortened. 


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452 


HO,   FOR    THE  KLONDIKE! 


the  rivers  flowing  into  it  from  the  east,  is 
considered  very  good  prospecting  country, 
and  it  is  likely  that  the  coming  season  will 
find  a  large  number  of  miners  engaged 
in  that  vicinity.  Rich  strikes  have  been 
reported  from  there  quite  recently;  and 
Teslin  Lake  is  likely  to  have  "  the  call " 
next  season.  The  Canadian  Pacific  Rail- 
way officials  announce  that  the  journey 
from  Victoria  to  Telegraph  Creek  can 
be  made  comfortably  in  six  days,  and  that 
several  large  new  steamers  have  been  put 
into  service  from  Victoria.  This  route 
has  two  marked  advantages:  First,  if  the 
miner  should  outfit  in  Winnipeg,  Victoria, 
or  any  other  Canadian  town,  he  will  be 
able  to  go  into  the  gold  region  without 
paying  duty,  a  saving  of  from  fifteen  to 
thirty-five  per  cent. ;  and,  second,  as  soon 
as  he  passes  Telegraph  Creek,  he  will  be 
in  the  heart  of  a  gold  country,  and  can  at 
once  begin  to  prospect. 

It  is  probable  that  stopping-places  will 
be  established  along  the  route,  so  that  a 
man  can  go  in  light  at  a  considerable  sav- 
ing of  time.  This  route  and  the  Dalton 
trail  will  undoubtedly  be  the  ones  advo- 
cated by  the  Canadian  Interior  Depart- 
ment, and  steps  will  be  taken  before  the 
ist  of  March  to  furnish  means  of  trans- 
portation. It  would  be  possible  for  the 
miner  to  send  his  outfit  through  to  Glen- 
ora  in  bond  without  the  payment  of 
duties.  Whether  the  difference  in  price 
between  American  towns  and  Canadian 
towns  will  offset  any  of  these  duties  or 
not  can  only  be  determined  by  the  pur- 
chaser on  the  ground. 

There  is  also  a  trail  up  the  Taku  River 
from  Juneau,  and  overland  to  Teslin  Lake, 
but  this  is  not  as  yet  thoroughly  surveyed, 
and  the  bay  at  the  mouth  of  Taku  River 
at  certain  times  is  very  dangerous  by  rea- 
son of  fierce  winds,  lack  of  good  anchor- 
age, and  floating  ice  from  the  enormous 
glacier  which  discharges  into  it.  Another 
pass  is  just  reported  from  Chilkoot  Inlet; 
but  every  overland  route  from  the  sea  to 
the  Yukon  must  climb  the  steep,  cold,  and 
slippery  heights  of  the  Coast  Range. 
They  are  all  alike  in  general  features. 
They  are  all  difficult. 

FINDING    "PAY   DIRT." 

To  find  "pay  dirt"  has  never  been 
easy,  and  it  will  not  be  easy  in  the  Yukon. 
Dr.  Dawson,  the  head  of  the  Canadian 
Geological  Survey,  has  this  to  say  on  this 
point:  "  Rumors  of  big  strikes-  will  be 
thick,   and  are  likely  to  be  false.     Even 


when  the  report  is  true,  the  tenderfoot, 
being  without  means  of  transportation  and 
knowing  nothing  of  the  country,  will 
reach  the  point  of  discovery  only  after 
every  rod  of  pay  dirt  is  staked,  and  he 
will  find  it  extremely  difficult  even  to  buy 
an  interest  in  a  claim,  and  will  be  forced 
to  set  forth  on  his  journeys  again  to  some 
other  regions  of  discovery.  My  advice 
is:  Scatter  out;  go  into  the  creeks  of 
the  upper  branches  of  the  Yukon.  It  is 
of  no  value  to  go  to  the  Klondike,  to 
Indian  River,  or  any  of  the  creeks 
where  discoveries  were  made  last  year. 
They  have  all  been  staked  beyond  pay 
dirt,  both  up  and  down  from  the  point 
of  discovery.  Keep  higher  up,  and  pros- 
pect the  small  streams.  This  is  my  ad- 
vice to  the  tenderfoot,  which  I  do  not 
expect  any  one  to  follow."  * 

THE    WORK    OF   MINING. 

Having  been  lucky  enough  to  find  color 
in  the  gravel  or  sand,  you  will  be  required 
to  stake  out  your  claim  at  once,  so  that 
there  can  be  no  mistake  with  regard  to 
boundaries.  You  may  take  a  strip  not 
more  than  ioo  feet  in-  width  along  the 
stream,  but  your  claim  may  extend  back  to 
the  hills  which  bound  in  the  valley.  If 
you.  are  fortunate  enough  to  make  the  first 
discovery,  you  will  be  allowed  to  stake 
a  second  claim  of  ioo  feet.  You  are  then 
allowed  sixty  days  in  which  to  visit  the 
nearest  land  office  and  make  your  entry. 
The  cost  of  making  this  entry  is  fifteen 
dollars.  Thereafter,  if  you  leave  your 
claim  for  seventy-two  hours  without  per- 
mission of  the  Gold  Commissioner,  or 
without  putting  a  man  on  it,  you  forfeit 
your  right  to  work  the  claim.  When  you 
clean  up,  you  will  be  required  to  pay  a 
royalty  upon  all  the  gold  you  take  out — 
ten  per  cent,  of  all  returns  up  to  $500  per 
week,  and  twenty  per  cent,  on  all  returns 
over  $500  per  week.  However,  this  will 
not  trouble  you  until  you  have  opened  up 
your  pay  streak.  These  are  the  regula- 
tions at  present.  They  are  subject  to 
change  by  the  Dominion  Interior  Depart- 
ment. 

Having  made  your  claim,  you  can  now 
begin  the  work  of  constructing  your  shel- 
ter, and  here  you  should  take  time  to  build 
yourself  a  comfortable  shanty.  If  you 
are  fortunate  enough  to  get  located  near 
timber,  you  will  be  able  to  construct  very 
readily  a  log  cabin,  which  when  banked 
with    snow  in   the  winter   will    be  warm. 

*  From  an  interview  for  McClurb*s  Magazine. 


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HAMLIN  GARLAND. 


453 


You  are  now  ready 
to  begin  the  work 
of  mining.  Except 
in  a  few  instances, 
the  gold  will  be 
upon  the  creek 
flats.  The  pay 
streak  is  seldom 
more  than  three 
feet  in  depth,  and 
it  lies  under  a  layer 
of  moss,  ice,  frozen 
muck,  and  gravel 
ranging  from  three 
to  thirty  feet  in 
depth.  If  you  start 
in  summer  to  dig  a 
hole  to  bed  rock, 
the  probabilities 
are  that  it  will  fill 
with  water.  But 
as  soon  as  the 
ground  is  frozen 
sufficiently  to  en- 
able you  to  pro- 
secute your  work 
without  interfer- 
ence from  the 
water,  you  sink  a 
hole  to  the  bed 
rock  by  means  of 
a  pick.  If  it  is 
frozen  too  hard  to 
dig,  you  build  a 
fire  on  the  gravel 
and  heat  the  ground 
until  it  can  be 
picked  and  shov- 
eled, and  after  the 
layer  of  softened 
ground  is  taken 
out,  you  rebuild 
the  fire.  This  re- 
quires a  great  deal 
of  wood  and  is 
slow  work.  In 
this  way  the  pay 
dirt  may  be  taken 
from  underneath 
the  surface  in  the 
winter.  In  May 
the  sun  comes 
rushing  up  from 
the  south  with  as- 
tonishing heat.  It 
softens  the  dump 
of  pay  dirt,  and  as 
soon  as  this  can  be 
shoveled  into  the 
sluice-boxes,  you 
begin  washing. 


D*wn  fhaWKONte  STIWART  RIVKR, 
DAWSON,  rORTV  Mice,   BELLI  IftC.  , 
CIRCLE  CITY.    FT  YUKON   *  »T.  MICHAELS 


t  SELKIRK  to  OAWSON  ,         ItO   Mil«» 
.%  RORTY  MILE.IOE        •• 

CIRCLE  CITV.  JSO       •• 


Boundary\Lln#  I 

THE  ROUTES  TO  THE  KLONDYRE.  tt^stf^* 


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454 


HO,  FOR    THE  KLONDIKE! 


OUTFITS. 

The  miner  entering  the  remorseless 
country  should  go  prepared  for  an  encamp- 
ment of  six  months  or  a  year,  and  should 
consider  that  he  is  going  into  a  daily  war 
with  hunger  and  cold,  and  that  he  is  to  be 
isolated,  in  all  likelihood,  from  stores  and 
goods  of  almost  every  sort,  and  especially 
from  all  delicacies  and  medical  supplies. 
Every  man  going  to  the  Klondike  should 
be  sober,  strong,  and  healthy;  he  should 
be  sound  cf  lung  and  free  from  rheuma- 
tism and  all  tendency  to  liver  or  heart 
diseases.  He  should  be  practical,  able  to 
adapt  himself  quickly  to  his  surroundings. 

The  climatic  extremes  make  it  neces- 
sary to  prepare  for  very  cold  and  also  for 
very  warm  and  wet  weather.  The  outfit 
of  clothing  should  consist  of  comfort- 
able woolen  underwear  and  of  very 
warm  outer  garments  which  can  be  laid 
aside  at  will.  Above  all,  it  will  be  nec- 
essary to  take  rainproof  coats,  tents, 
and  waterproof  boots.  The  miner  works 
a  large  part  of  his  time  in  snow  or  water. 
Bedding  should  be  plentiful,  and  the  sleep- 
ing-bag, such  as  is  sold  on  the  coast,  will 
insure  warmth  at  night. 

If  the  prospector  should  decide  to  go 
in  light,  depending  upon  the  trading  points 
along  the  river  for  his  supplies  of  flour, 
bacon,  and  sugar,  he  should  carry  in  dried 
fruits  and  vegetables  and  other  foods 
likely  to  prove  preventative  of  scurvy, 
biliousness,  and  other  diseases  which  arise 
from  a  monotonous  diet.  It  is  probable 
that  bacon,  flour,  and  other  common  nec- 
essaries will  be  in  full  supply  by  the  ist 
of  July,  though  at  a  high  price. 

Any  man  who  takes  due  thought  con- 
cerning the  dangers  of  the  Yukon  is  ex- 
ceedingly loath  to  advise  another  concern- 
ing the  route  by  which  to  enter.  It  has 
been  my  aim  here  to  present  all  the 
routes  without  bias.  Each  is  advocated 
strenuously  by  the  business  men  who  will 
profit  by  the  travel  over  it,  and  the  state- 
ments of  these  must  be  taken  with  a  due  al- 
lowance. The  Ashcroft  "  telegraph  trail  " 
seems  to  be  the  most  feasible  overland 
route.  The  Edmonton  way  is  longer,  runs 
through  a  colder  country,  and  is  less  likely 
to  be  traveled.  The  Dalton  trail  has  many 
advantages,  provided  one  has  means  suffi- 
cient to  purchase  pack  horses  and  cares  to 
wait  until  the  grass  is  grown  sufficiently  to 
feed  his  horses  en  route.  The  Chilkoot 
Pass  and  White  Pass  routes  have  been 
much   written   about,   but   the  miner  may 


safely  depend  upon  finding  them  much 
more  difficult  than  any  published  report 
describes  them  to  be. 

I  will  close  with  a  word  of  general 
warning,  first  from  Mr.  William  Ogilvie, 
who  says:  "  Now,  lest  you  get  excited 
and  drop  everything  and  fly  there,  let  me 
tell  you  emphatically,  yes,  emphatically, 
that  all  the  Klondike  region  I  speak  of  is 
located,  is  taken  up,  and  if  you  now  have 
money  enough  to  purchase  an  interest  in 
any  of  the  one  hundred  claims  mentioned 
on  the  Bonanza  and  the  forty  odd  on  the 
Eldorado,  you  have  money  enough  to  stay 
at  home;  and,  in  all  human  probability, 
would  add  more  to  it,  and  enjoy  it  much 
more,  and  benefit  by  it  much  more,  so- 
cially, physically,  and  morally,  than  by 
bringing  it  into  the  Yukon.  My  experi- 
ence is,  and  I  have  had  considerable,  that 
the  man  who  stays  at  home  and  plods  on 
the  farm  or  in  the  shop  or  office,  in  the 
vast  majority  of  cases,  is  better  off,  health- 
ier physically  and  morally,  and  has  an* 
swered  the  end  of  nature  or  God  vastly 
more  completely,  than  the  man  who  de- 
votes his  life  to  the  calling  of  the  every- 
day placer  gold  miner.  Somebody  must 
do  it;  but  I  assure  you,  if  you  are  viciously 
inclined,  there  is  no  calling  in  which  you 
can  waste  your  life  so  completely  and  fully 
in  every  sense  of  the  word." 

To  this  may  be  added  the  reports  of 
men  who  have  wintered  and  summered  in 
this  cruel  and  relentless  land.  For  nine 
months  in  the  year  it  is  necessary  to  melt 
ice  in  order  to  get  water  to  drink  or  to 
cook  with.  It  is  exceedingly  difficult  to 
obtain  dry  wood  with  which  to  build  a 
fire.  It  is  exceedingly  laborious  work  to 
get  together  the  logs  to  build  a  cabin,  and 
in  some  locations  it  is  absolutely  impos- 
sible. When  the  snows  begin  to  melt  in 
the  spring,  water  is  everywhere.  All 
work  is  suspended  in  many  mines,  while 
summer  rushes  over  the  land.  There  is 
scarcely  any  spring.  The  discomforts  of 
the  dark  and  sunless  winter  give  place 
only  to  the  almost  intolerable  discom- 
forts of  the  summer.  In  short,  the  Yukon 
country  is  a  grim  and  terrible  country,  and 
the  man  who  goes  there  to  spend  a  year  is 
likely  to  earn  with  the  ache  of  his  bones 
and  the  blood  of  his  heart  every  dollar 
he  finds  in  gold.  He  should  go  like  a  man 
enlisting  for  a  war.  He  should  be  able  to 
pass  the  examination  which  is  required  of 
a  soldier  in  the  German  army,  or  of  an  offi- 
cer in  the  mounted  police  of  the  Canadian 
government.  It  is  no  place  for  weak  men, 
lazy  men,  or  cowards. 


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FROM    THE    MEMOIRS    OF    FRITZ    VON    TARLENHEIM. 

By  Anthony  Hope. 

Being  the  sequel  to  a  story  by  the  same  writer  entitled  "  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda." 
With  full-page  illustrations  by  Charles  Dana  Gibson. 


INTRODUCTION   AND  SUMMARY  OF  EARLIER  CHAPTERS. 


Rudolf  Rassendyll,  as  an  act  of  friendship  to  Rudolf,  King 
of  Ruritania,  his  distant  relative,  takes  advantage  of  a  close 
resemblance  between  them  and  impersonates  the  king 
through  a  grave  crisis  in  the  latter' s  affairs.  He  even  plays 
the  king's  part  as  the  prospective  husband  of  the  Princess 
Flavia.  But  in  so  doing  he  loses  his  heart,  while  the  prin- 
cess suddenly  discovers  Tin  her  lover  a  fervor  and  fascination 
she  had  not  found  in  him  before.  In  the  end,  the  princess 
dutifully  marries  the  real  king  ;  but  thereafter,  once  a  year, 
she  sends  a  gift  and  a  verbal  message  to  Rassendyll  in  token 
of  her  remembrance  of  him.  This  continues  for  three  years. 
Then,  under  a  passionate  impulse,  she  sends  with  her  yearly 
gift  a  letter.  The  bearer,  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim,  is  betrayed 
by  his  servant  Bauer,  and  assaulted  and  robbed  of  the  letter 
by  Rupert  of  Hentzau.    Rupert's  accomplice,  Rischenheim, 


hurries  to  Zenda  with  a  copy  of  it,  to  lay  before  the  king. 
But  he  is  met  there  by  Rassendyll  and  made  to  give  up 
the  copy.  Then,  in  Rischenheim  s  name,  Rassendyll  tele- 
graphs to  Rupert  to  come  by  night  and  meet  the  king  in  a 
remote  hunting-lodge,  bringing  the  original  letter  with  him. 
Rupert  comes,  and— through  a  failure  of  the  plans  of  Ras- 
sendyll and  his  friends— actually  meets  the  king.  But  be* 
fore  he  can  give  him  the  letter  they  fall  into  quarrel,  and 
Rupert  shoots  him  down,  with  his  one  attendant,  Herbert. 
Later  in  the  night,  Colonel  Sapt,  Von  Tarlenheim,  and  Ras- 
sendyll's  servant  James,  arriving  at  the  lodge,  find  the  king 
dead  and  Herbert  only  enough  alive  to  tell  the  story.  Mean- 
while, Rassendyll  has  gone  to  Strelsau  to  deal  with  Rupert 
directly  there,  in  case  the  telegram  failed  to  lure  him  to  the 
hunting-lodge. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE    KING    IN    THE    HUNTING-LODGE. 

THE  moment  with  its  shock  and  tumult 
of  feeling  brings  one  judgment, 
later  reflection  another.  Among  the 
sins  of  Rupert  of  Hentzau  I  do  not  as- 
sign the  first  and  greatest  place  to  his  kill- 
ing of  the  king.  It  was,  indeed,  the  act  of 
a  reckless  man  who  stood  at  nothing  and 
held  nothing  sacred;  but  when  I  consider 
Herbert's  story,  and  trace  how  the  deed 
came  to  be  done  and  the  impulsion  of 
circumstances  that   led  to  it,  it  seems  to 


have  been  in  some  sort  thrust  upon  him 
by  the  same  perverse  fate  that  dogged 
our  steps.  He  had  meant  the  king  no 
harm — indeed  it  may  be  argued  that,  from 
whatever  motive,  he  had  sought  to  serve 
him — and  save  under  the  sudden  stress  of 
self-defense  he  had  done  him  none.  The 
king's  unlooked-for  ignorance  of  his  er- 
rand, Herbert's  honest  hasty  zeal,  the 
temper  of  Boris  the  hound,  had  forced 
on  him  an  act  unmeditated  and  utterly 
against  his  interest.  His  whole  guilt  lay 
in  preferring  the  king's  death  to  his  own 
— a  crime  perhaps  in  most  men,  but  hardly 
deserving  a  place  in  Rupert's  catalogue. 
All  this  I    can    admit    now,  but  on  that 


Copyright,  1898,  by  A.  H.  Hawkins. 


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45$ 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


night,  with  the  dead  body  lying  there  be- 
fore us,  with  the  story  piteously  told  by 
Herbert's  faltering  voice  fresh  in  our 
ears,  it  was  hard  to  allow  any  such  exten- 
uation. Our  hearts  cried  out  for  ven- 
geance, although  we  ourselves  served  the 
king  no  more.  Nay,  it  may  well  be  that 
we  hoped  to  stifle  some  reproach  of  our 
own  consciences  by  a  louder  clamor 
against  another's  sin,  or  longed  to  offer 
some  fancied  empty  atonement  to  our 
dead  master  by  executing  swift  justice  on 
the  man  who  had  killed  him.  I  cannot 
tell  fully  what  the  others  felt,  but  in  me 
at  least  the  dominant  impulse  was  to  waste 
not  a  moment  in  proclaiming  the  crime 
and  raising  the  whole  country  in  pursuit 
of  Rupert,  so  that  every  man  in  Ruritania 
should  quit  his  work,  his  pleasure,  or  his 
bed,  and  make  it  his  concern  to  take  the 
Count  of  Hentzau,  alive  or  dead.  I  re- 
member that  I  walked  over  to  where  Sapt 
was  sitting,  and  caught  him  by  the  arm, 
saying: 

44  We  must  raise  the  alarm.  If  you'll 
go  to  Zenda,  I'll  start  for  Strelsau." 

44  The  alarm  ? "  said  he,  looking  up  at 
me  and  tugging  his  mustache. 

44  Yes:  when  the  news  is  known,  every 
man  in  the  kingdom  will  be  on  the  look- 
out for  him,  and  he  can't  escape." 

<4  So  that  he'd  be  taken?"  asked  the 
constable. 

14  Yes,  to  a  certainty,"  I  cried,  hot  in 
excitement  and  emotion. 

Sapt  glanced  across  at  Mr.  Rassen- 
dyll's  servant.  James  had,  with  my  help, 
raised  the  king's  body  on  to  the  bed,  and 
had  aided  the  wounded  forester  to  reach 
a  couch.  He  stood  now  near  the  consta- 
ble, in  his  usual  unobtrusive  readiness. 
He  did  not  speak,  but  I  saw  a  look  of 
understanding  in  his  eyes  as  he  nodded 
his  head  to  Colonel  Sapt.  They  were 
well  matched,  that  pair,  hard  to  move, 
hard  to  shake,  not  to  be  turned  from  the 
purpose  in  their  minds  and  the  matter  that 
lay  to  their  hands. 

44  Yes,  he'd  probably  be  taken  or  killed," 
said  Sapt. 

44  Then  let's  do  it!  "  I  cried. 

14  With  the  queen's  letter  on  him,"  said 
Colonel  Sapt. 

I  had  forgotten. 

44  We  have  the  box,  he  has  the  letter 
still,"  said  Sapt. 

I  could  have  laughed  even  at  that  mo- 
ment. He  had  left  the  box  (whether 
from  haste  or  heedlessness  or  malice,  we 
could  not  tell),  but  the  letter  was  on  him. 
Taken  alive,  he  would  use  that  powerful 


weapon  to  save  his  life  or  satisfy  his 
anger;  if  it  were  found  on  his  body,  its 
evidence  would  speak  loud  and  clear  to 
all  the  world.  Again  he  was  protected  by 
his  crime:  while  he  had  the  letter,  he  must 
be  kept  inviolate  from  all  attack  except 
at  our  own  hands.  We  desired  his  death, 
but  we  must  be  his  body-guard  and  die  in 
his  defense  rather  than  let  any  other  but 
ourselves  come  at  him.  No  open  means 
must  be  used,  and  no  allies  sought.  AH 
this  rushed  to  my  mind  at  Sapt's  words, 
and  I  saw  what  the  constable  and  James 
had  never  forgotten.  But  what  to  do  I 
could  not  see.  For  the  King  of  Ruritania 
lay  dead. 

An  hour  or  more  had  passed  since  our  dis- 
covery, and  it  was  now  close  on  midnight. 
Had  all  gone  well  we  ought  by  this  time 
to  have  been  far  on  our  road  back  to  the 
castle;  by  this  time  Rupert  must  be  miles 
away  from  where  he  had  killed  the  king; 
already  Mr.  Rassendyll  would  be  seeking 
his  enemy  in  Strelsau. 

44  But  what  are  we  to  do  about — about 
that,  then?"  I  asked,  pointing  with  my 
finger  through  the  doorway  towards  the 
bed. 

Sapt  gave  a  last  tug  at  his  mustache, 
then  crossed  his  hands  on  the  hilt  of  the 
sword  between  his  knees,  and  leant  for- 
ward in  his  chair. 

44  Nothing,"  he  said,  looking  in  my 
face.   "  Until  we  have  the  letter,  nothing. *  * 

44  But  it's  impossible!  "  I  cried. 

44  Why,  no,  Fritz,"  he  answered  thought- 
fully. "It's  not  impossible  yet;  it  may 
become  so.  But  if  we  can  catch  Rupert 
in  the  next  day,  or  even  in  the  next  two 
days,  it's  not  impossible.  Only  let  me 
have  the  letter,  and  I'll  account  for  the 
concealment.  What  ?  Is  the  fact  that 
crimes  are  known  never  concealed,  for 
fear  of  putting  the  criminal  on  his  guard  ?  " 

44  You'll  be  able  to  make  a  story,  sir/' 
James  put  in,  with  a  grave  but  reassur- 
ing air. 

44  Yes,  James,  I  shall  be  able  to  make 
a  story,  or  your  master  will  make  one  for* 
me.  But,  by  God,  story  or  no  story,  the 
letter  mustn't  be  found.  Let  them  say 
we  killed  him  ourselves  if  they  like, 
but " 

I  seized  his  hand  and  gripped  it. 

44  You  don't  doubt  I'm  with  you?"  I 
asked. 

44  Not  for  a  moment,  Fritz,"  he  an- 
swered. 

44  Then  how  can  we  do  it  ?  " 

We  drew  nearer  together;  Sapt  and  I 
sat,  while  James  leant  over  Sapt's  chair. 


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ANTHONY  HOPE. 


457 


The  oil  in  the  lamp  was  almost  ex- 
hausted, and  the  light  burnt  very  dim. 
Now  and  again  poor  Herbert,  for  whom 
our  skill  could  do  nothing,  gave  a  slight 
moan.  I  am  ashamed  to  remember  how 
little  we  thought  of  him,  but  great  schemes 
make  the  actors  in  them  careless  of  hu- 
manity; the  life  of  a  man  goes  for  nothing 
against  a  point  in  the  game.  Except  for 
his  groans — and  they  grew  fainter  and 
less  frequent— our  voices  alone  broke  the 
silence  of  the  little  lodge. 

"The  queen  must  know,"  said  Sapt. 
"  Let  her  stay  at  Zenda  and  give  out  that 
the  king  is  at  the  lodge  for  a  day  or  two 
longer.  Then  you,  Fritz — for  you  must 
ride  to  the  castle  at  once — and  Bernen- 
stein  must  get  to  Strelsau  as  quick  as  you 
can,  and  find  Rudolf  Rassendyll.  You 
three  ought  to  be  able  to  track  young 
Rupert  down  and  get  the  letter  from  him. 
If  he's  not  in  the  city,  you  must  catch 
Rischenheim,  and  force  him  to  say  where 
he  is;  we  know  Rischenheim  can  be  per- 
suaded. If  Rupert's  there,  I  need  give 
no  advice  either  to  you  or  to  Rudolf." 

"And  you?" 

"James  and  I  stay  here.  If  any  one 
comes  whom  we  can  keep  out,  the  king  is 
ill.  If  rumors  get  about,  and  great  folk 
come,  why,  they  must  enter." 

"But  the  body?" 

"This  morning,  when  you're  gone,  we 
shall  make  a  temporary  grave.  I  dare  say 
two,"  and  he  jerked  his  thumb  towards 
poor  Herbert.  "Or  even,"  he  added, 
with  his  grim  smile,  "  three — for  our  friend 
Boris,  too,  must  be  out  of  sight." 

"You'll  bury  the  king  ? " 

•  Not  so  deep  but  that  we  can  take  him 
out  again,  poor  fellow.  Well,  Fritz,  have 
you  a  better  plan  ?" 

I  had  no  plan,  and  I  was  not  in  love 
with  Sapt's  plan.  Yet  it  offered  us  four 
and  twenty  hours.  For  that  time,  at 
least,  it  seemed  as  if  the  secret  could  be 
kept.  Beyond  that  we  could  hardly  hope 
for  success;  after  that  we  must  produce 
the  king;  dead  or  alive,  the  king  must  be 
seen.  Yet  it  might  be  that  before  the  res- 
pite ran  out  Rupert  would  be  ours.  In 
fine,  what  else  could  be  chosen  ?  For  now 
a  greater  peril  threatened  than  that  against 
which  we  had  at  the  first  sought  to  guard. 
Then  the  worst  we  feared  was  that  the 
letter  should  come  to  the  king's  hands. 
That  could  never  be.  But  it  would  be  a 
worse  thing  if  it  were  found  on  Rupert, 
and  all  the  kingdom,  nay,  all  Europe, 
know  that  it  was  written  in  the  hand  of 
her  who  was  now,  in  her  own  right,  Queen 


of  Ruritania.  To  save  her  from  that,  no 
chance  was  too  desperate,  no  scheme  too 
perilous;  yes,  if,  as  Sapt  said,  we  our- 
selves were  held  to  answer  for  the  king's 
death,  still  we  must  go  on.  I,  through 
whose  negligence  the'  whole  train  of  dis- 
aster had  been  laid,  was  the  last  man  to 
hesitate.  In  all  honesty,  I  held  my  life 
due  and  forfeit,  should  it  be  demanded  of 
me — my  life  and,  before  the  world,  my 
honor. 

So  the  plan  was  made.  A  grave  was  to 
be  dug  ready  for  the  king;  if  need  arose, 
his  body  should  be  laid  in  it,  and  the  place 
chosen  was  under  the  floor  of  the  wine- 
cellar.  When  death  came  to  poor  Her- 
bert, he  could  lie  in  the  yard  behind  the 
house;  for  Boris  they  meditated  a  resting- 
place  under  the  tree  where  our  horses  were 
tethered.  There  was  nothing  to  keep  me, 
and  I  rose;  but  as  I  rose,  I  heard  the  for- 
ester's voice  call  plaintively  for  me.  The 
unlucky  fellow  knew  me  well,  and  now 
cried  to  me  to  sit  by  him.  I  think  Sapt 
wanted  me  to  leave  him,  but  I  could  not 
refuse  his  last  request,  even  though  it  con- 
sumed some  precious  minutes.  He  was 
very  near  his  end,  and,  sitting  by  him,  I 
did  my  best  to  soothe  his  passing.  His 
fortitude  was  good  to  see,  and  I  believe 
that  we  all  at  last  found  new  courage  for 
our  enterprise  from  seeing  how  this  hum- 
ble man  met  death.  At  least  even  the 
constable  ceased  to  show  impatience,  and 
let  me  stay  till  I  could  close  the  sufferer's 
eyes. 

But  thus  time  went,  and  it  was  nearly 
five  in  the  morning  before  I  bade  them 
farewell  and  mounted  my  horse.  They 
took  theirs  and  led  them  away  to  the 
stables  behind  the  lodge;  I  waved  my 
hand  and  galloped  off  on  my  return  to  the 
castle.  Day  was  dawning,  and  the  air  was 
fresh  and  pure.  The  new  light  brought 
new  hope;  fears  seemed  to  vanish  before 
it;  my  nerves  were  strung  to  effort  and  to 
confidence.  My  horse  moved  freely  under 
me  and  carried  me  easily  along  the  grassy 
avenues.  It  was  hard  then  to  be  utterly 
despondent,  hard  to  doubt  skill  of  brain, 
strength  of  hand,  or  fortune's  favor. 

The  castle  came  in  sight,  and  I  hailed  it 
with  a  glad  cry  that  echoed  among  the 
trees.  But  a  moment  later  I  gave  an  ex- 
clamation of  surprise,  and  raised  myself 
a  little  from  the  saddle  while  I  gazed  ear- 
nestly at  the  summit  of  the  keep.  The 
flagstaff  was  naked;  the  royal  standard 
that  had  flapped  in  the  wind  last  night 
was  gone.  But  by  immemorial  custom  the 
flag  flew  on  the  keep  when  the  king  or  the 


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RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


queen  was  at  the  castle.  It  would  fly  for 
Rudolf  V.  no  more;  but  why  did  it  not 
proclaim  and  honor  the  presence  of  Queen 
Flavia  ?  I  sat  down  in  my  saddle  and 
spurred  my  horse  to  the  top  of  his  speed. 
We  had  been  buffeted  by  fate  sorely,  but 
now  I  feared  yet  another  blow. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  more  I  was  at 
the  door.  A  servant  ran  out,  and  I  dis- 
mounted leisurely  and  easily.  Pulling 
off  my  gloves,  I  dusted  my  boots  with 
them,  turned  to  the  stableman  and  bade 
htm  look  to  the  horse,  and  then  said  to 
the  footman: 

"  As  soon  as  the  queen  is  dressed,  And 
out  if  she  can  see  me.  I  have  a  message 
from  His  Majesty." 

The  fellow  looked  a  little  puzzled,  but 
at  this  moment  Hermann,  the  king's 
major-domo,  came  to  the  door. 

"Isn't  the  constable  with  you,  my 
lord  ?"  he  asked. 

4  *  No,  the  constable  remains  at  the 
lodge  with  the  king,"  said  I  carelessly, 
though  I  was  very  far  from  careless.  "  I 
have  a  message  for  Her  Majesty,  Her- 
mann. Find  out  from  some  of  the  women 
when  she  will  receive  me." 

"The  queen's  not  here,"  said  he. 
"  Indeed  we've  had  a  lively  time,  my  lord. 
At  five  o'clock  she  came  out,  ready 
dressed,  from  her  room,  sent  for  Lieutenant 
von  Bernenstein,  and  announced  that  she 
was  about  to  set  out  from  the  castle.  As 
you  know,  the  mail  train  passes  here  at 
six."  Hermann  took  out  his  watch. 
44  Yes,  the  queen  must  just  have  left  the 
station." 

44  Where  for  ? "  I  asked,  with  a  shrug  for 
the  woman's  whim. 

44  Why,  for  Strelsau.  She  gave  no  rea- 
sons for  going,  and  took  with  her  only 
one  lady,  Lieutenant  von  Bernenstein  be- 
ing in  attendance.  It  was  a  bustle,  if  you 
like,  with  everybody  to  be  roused  and  got 
out  of  bed,  and  a  carriage  to  be  made 
ready,  and  messages  to  go  to  the  station, 
and " 

44  She  gave  no  reasons  ?  " 

44  None,  my  lord.  She  left  with  me  a 
letter  to  the  constable,  which  she  ordered 
me  to  give  into  his  own  hands  as  soon  as 
he  arrived  at  the  castle.  She  said  it  con- 
tained a  message  of  importance,  which 
the  constable  was  to  convey  to  the  king, 
and  that  it  must  be  intrusted  to  nobody 
except  Colonel  Sapt  himself.  I  wonder, 
my  lord,  that  you  didn't  notice  that  the 
flag  was  hauled  down." 

44  Tut,  man,  I  wasn't  staring  at  the  keep. 
Give  me  the  letter."     For  I  saw  that  the 


clue  to  this  fresh  puzzle  must  lie  under  the 
cover  of  Sapt's  letter.  That  letter  I  must 
myself  carry  to  Sapt,  and  without  loss  of 
time. 

44  Give  you  the  letter,  my  lord?  But, 
pardon  me,  you're  not  the  constable." 
He  laughed  a  little. 

**Why,  no,"  said  I,  mustering  a  smile. 
44  It's  true  that  I'm  not  the  constable,  but 
I'm  going  to  the  constable.  I  had  the 
king's  orders  to  rejoin  him  as  soon  as  I 
had  seen  the  queen,  and  since  Her  Majesty 
isn't  here,  I  shall  return  to  the  lodge  di- 
rectly a  fresh  horse  can  be  saddled  for  me. 
And  the  constable's  at  the  lodge.  Come, 
the  letter!" 

44 1  can't  give  it  you,  my  lord.  Her 
Majesty's  orders  were  positive." 

44  Nonsense!  If  she  had  known  I  should 
come  and  not  the  constable,  she  would 
have  told  me  to  carry  it  to  him." 

44 1  don't  know  about  that,  my  lord: 
her  orders  were  plain,  and  she  doesn't 
like  being  disobeyed." 

The  stableman  had  led  the  horse  away, 
the  footman  had  disappeared,  Hermann 
and  I  were  alone.  "  Give  me  the  letter," 
I  said ;  and  I  know  that  my  self-control 
failed,  and  eagerness  was  plain  in  my 
voice.  Plain  it  was,  and  Hermann  took 
alarm.  He  started  back,  clapping  his 
hand  to  the  breast  of  his  laced  coat.  The 
gesture  betrayed  where  the  letter  was;  I 
was  past  prudence;  I  sprang  on  him  and 
wrenched  his  hand  away,  catching  him  by 
the  throat  with  my  other  hand.  Diving 
into  his  pocket,  I  got  the  letter.  Then  I 
suddenly  loosed  hold  of  him,  for  his  eyes 
were  starting  out  of  his  head.  I  took  out 
a  couple  of  gold  pieces  and  gave  them  to 
him. 

44  It's  urgent,  you  fool,"  said  I.  "  Hold 
your  tongue  about  it."  And  without  wait- 
ing to  study  his  amazed  red  face,  I  turned 
and  ran  towards  the  stable.  In  five  min- 
utes I  was  on  a  fresh  horse,  in  six  I  was 
clear  of  the  castle,  heading  back  fast  as 
I  could  go  for  the  hunting-lodge.  Even 
now  Hermann  remembers  the  grip  I  gave 
him — though  doubtless  he  has  long  spent 
the  pieces  of  gold. 

When  I  reached  the  end  of  this  second 
journey,  I  came  in  for  the  obsequies  of 
Boris.  James  was  just  patting  the  ground 
under  the  tree  with  a  mattock  when  I  rode 
up;  Sapt  was  standing  by,  smoking  his 
pipe.  The  boots  of  both  were  stained  and 
sticky  with  mud.  I  flung  myself  from  my 
saddle  and  blurted  out  my  news.  The 
constable  snatched  at  his  letter  with  an 
oath;  James  leveled  the  ground  with  care- 


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ANTHONY  HOPE. 


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fui  accuracy;  I  do  not  remember  doing 
anything  except  wiping  my  forehead  and 
feeling  very  hungry. 

"Good  Lord,  she's  gone  after  him!" 
said  Sapt,  as  he  read.  Then  he  handed 
me  the  letter. 

I  will  not  set  out  what  the  queen  wroto. 
The  purport  seemed  to  us,  who  did  not 
share  her  feelings,  pathetic  indeed  and 
moving,  but  in  the  end  (to  speak  plainly) 
folly.  She  had  tried  to  endure  her  sojourn 
at  Zenda,  she  said;  but  it  drove  her  maa. 
She  could  not  rest;  she  did  not  know  how 
we  fared,  nor  how  those  in  Strelsau;  for 
hours  she  had  lain  awake;  then  at  last 
falling  asleep,  she  had  dreamt.  "I  had 
had  the  same  dream  before.  Now  it  came 
again.  I  saw  him  so  plain.  He  seemed 
to  me  to  be  king,  and  to  be  called  king. 
But  he  did  not  answer  nor  move.  He 
seemed  dead;  and  I  could  not  rest."  So 
she  wrote,  ever  excusing  herself,  ever  re- 
peating how  something  drew  her  to  Strel- 
sau, telling  her  that  she  must  go  if  she 
would  see  "  him  whom  you  know,"  alive 
again.  "  And  I  must  see  him — ah,  I  must 
see  him  I  If  the  king  has  had  the  letter, 
I  am  ruined  already.  If  he  has  not,  tell 
him  what  you  will  or  what  you  can  con- 
trive. I  muse  go.  It  came  a  second 
time,  and  all  so  plain.  I  saw  him;  I  tell 
you  I  saw  him.  Ah,  I  must  see  him  again. 
I  swear  that  I  will  only  see  him  once. 
He's  in  danger — I  know  he's  in  danger; 
or  what  does  the  dream  mean  ?  Bernen- 
stein  will  go  with  me,  and  I  shall  see  him. 
Do,  do  forgive  me:  I  can't  stay,  the 
dream  was  so  plain."  Thus  she  ended, 
seeming,  poor  lady,  half  frantic  with  the 
visions  that  her  own  troubled  brain  and 
desolate  heart  had  conjured  up  to  torment 
her.  I  did  not  know  that  she  had  before 
told  Mr.  Rassendyll  himself  of  this  strange 
dream;  though  I  lay  small  store  by  such 
matters,  believing  that  we  ourselves  make 
our  dreams,  fashioning  out  of  the  fears  and 
hopes  of  to-day  what  seems  to  come  by 
night  in  the  guise  of  a  mysterious  revela- 
tion. Yet  there  are  some  things  that  a 
man  cannot  understand,  and  I  do  not  pro- 
fess to  measure  with  my  mind  the  ways  of 
God. 

However,  not  why  the  queen  went,  but 
that  she  had  gone,  concerned  us.  We  had 
returned  to  the  house  now,  and  James, 
remembering  that  men  must  eat  though 
kings  die,  was  getting  us  some  breakfast. 
In  fact,  I  had  great  need  of  food,  being 
utterly  worn  out;  and  they,  after  their  la- 
bors, were  hardly  less  weary.  As  we  ate, 
we  talked;  and  it  was  plain  to  us  that  I 


also  must  go  to  Strelsau.  There,  in  the 
city,  the  drama  must  be  played  out.  There 
was  Rudolf,  there  Rischenheim,  there  in 
all  likelihood  Rupert  of  Hentzau,  there 
now  the  queen.  And  of  these  Rupert 
alone,  or  perhaps  Rischenheim  also,  knew 
that  the  king  was  dead,  and  how  the  issue 
of  last  night  had  shaped  itself  under  the 
compelling  hand  of  wayward  fortune. 
The  king  lay  in  peace  on  his  bed,  his 
grave  was  dug;  Sapt  and  James  held  the 
secret  with  solemn  faith  and  ready  lives. 
To  Strelsau  I  must  go  to  tell  the  queen 
that  she  was  widowed,  and  to  aim  the 
stroke  at  young  Rupert's  heart. 

At  nine  in  the  morning  I  started  from 
the  lodge.  I  was  bound  to  ride  to  Hof- 
bau  and  there  wait  for  a  train  which  would 
carry  me  to  the  capital.  From  Hofbau  I 
could  send  a  message,  but  the  message 
must  announce  only  my  own  coming,  not 
the  news  I  carried.  To  Sapt,  thanks  to 
the  cipher,  I  could  send  word  at  any  time, 
and  he  bade  me  ask  Mr.  Rassendyll 
whether  he  should  come  to  our  aid,  or  stay 
where  he  was. 

"A  day  must  decide  the  whole  thing," 
he  said.  "  We  can't  conceal  the  king's 
death  long.  For  God's  sake,  Fritz,  make 
an  end  of  that  young  villain,  and  get 
the  letter." 

So,  wasting  no  time  in  farewells,  I  set 
out.  By  ten  o'clock  I  was  at  Hofbau,  for 
I  rode  furiously.  From  there  I  sent  to 
Bernenstein  at  the  palace  word  of  my 
coming.  But  there  I  was  delayed.  There 
was  no  train  for  an  hour. 

"I'll  ride,"  I  cried  to  myself,  only  to 
remember  the  next  moment  that,  if  I  rode, 
I  should  come  to  my  journey's  end  much 
later.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
wait,  and  it  may  be  imagined  in  what 
mood  I  waited.  Every  minute  seemed  an 
hour,  and  I  know  not  to  this  day  how  the 
hour  wore  itself  away.  I  ate,  I  drank,  I 
smoked,  I  walked,  sat,  and  stood.  The 
station-master  knew  me,  and  thought  I 
had  gone  triad,  till  I  told  him  that  I  car- 
ried most  important  despatches  from  the 
king,  and  that  the  delay  imperiled  great 
interests.  Then  he  became  sympathetic; 
but  what  could  he  do  ?  No  special  train 
was  to  be  had  at  a  roadside  station:  I 
must  wait;  and  wait,  somehow,  and  with- 
out blowing  my  brains  out,  I  did. 

At  last  I  was  in  the  train;  now  indeed 
we  moved,  and  I  came  nearer.  An  hour's 
run  brought  me  in  sight  of  the  city.  Then, 
to  my  unutterable  wrath,  we  were  stopped, 
and  waited  twenty  minutes  or  half  an 
hour.     At  last  we  started  again ;  had  we 


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not,  I  should  have  jumped  out  and  run, 
for  to  sit  longer  motionless  would  have 
driven  me  mad.  Now  we  entered  the  sta- 
tion. With  a  great  effort  I  calmed  my- 
self. I  lolled  back  in  my  seat;  when  we 
stopped  I  sat  there  till  a  porter  opened  the 
door.  In  lazy  leisureliness  I  bade  him  get 
me  a  cab,  and  followed  him  across  the 
station.  He  held  the  door  for  me,  and, 
giving  him  his  douceur,  I  sec  my  foot  on 
the  step. 

"  Tell  him  to  drive  to  the  palace,"  said 
I,  "and  to  be  quick.  I'm  late  already, 
thanks  to  this  cursed  train." 

"  The  old  mare' 11  soon  take  you  there, 
sir,"  said  the  driver. 

I  jumped  in.  But  at  this  moment  I 
saw  a  man  on  the  platform  beckoning 
with  his  hand  and  hastening  towards  me. 
The  cabman  also  saw  him  and  waited.  I 
dared  not  tell  him  to  drive  on,  for  I  feared 
to  betray  any  undue  haste,  and  it  would 
have  looked  strange  not  to  spare  a  mo- 
ment to  my  wife's  cousin,  Anton  von  Strof- 
zin.  He  came  up,  holding  out  his  hand, 
delicately  gloved  in  pearl-gray  kid,  for 
young  Anton  was  a  leader  of  the  Strelsau 
dandies. 

"Ah,  my  dear  Fritz!"  said  he.  "I 
am  glad  I  hold  no  appointment  at  court. 
How  dreadfully  active  you  all  are!  I 
thought  you  were  settled  at  Zenda  for  a 
month?" 

"  The  queen  changed  her  mind  sud- 
denly," said  I,  smiling.  "Ladies  do,  as 
you  know  well,  you  who  know  all  about 
them." 

My  compliment,  or  insinuation,  pro- 
duced a  pleased  smile  and  a  gallant  twirl- 
ing of  his  mustache. 

"  Well,  I  thought  you'd  be  here  soon," 
he  said,  "but  I  didn't  know  that  the 
queen  had  come." 

"  You  didn't  ?  Then  why  did  you  look 
for  me?" 

He  opened  his  eyes  a  little  in  languid, 
elegant  surprise. 

"  Oh,  I  supposed  you'd  be  on  duty,  or 
something,  and  have  to  come.  Aren't  you 
in  attendance  ?  " 

"  On  the  queen  ?     No,  not  just  now." 

"  But  on  the  king?" 

"Why,  yes,"  said  I,  and  I  leaned  for- 
ward. "At  least  I'm  engaged  now  on 
the  king's  business." 

"  Precisely,"  said  he.  "So  I  thought 
you'd  come,  as  soon  as  I  heard  that  the 
king  was  here." 

It  may  be  that  I  ought  to  have  pre- 
served my  composure.  But  I  am  not  Sapt 
nor  Rudolf  Rassendyll. 


"  The  king  here  ?  "  I  gasped,  clutching 
him  by  the  arm. 

"Of  course.  You  didn't  know?  Yes, 
he's  in  town." 

But  I  heeded  him  no  more.  For  a  mo- 
ment I  could  not  speak,  then  I  cried  to 
the  cabman: 

"To  the  palace.  And  drive  like  the 
devil!" 

We  shot  away,  leaving  Anton  open- 
mouthed  in  wonder.  For  me,  I  sank  back 
on  the  cushions,  fairly  aghast.  The  king 
lay  dead  in  the  hunting-lodge,  but  the 
king  was  in  his  capital! 

Of  course,  the  truth  soon  flashed 
through  my  mind,  but  it  brought  no  com- 
fort. Rudolf  Rassendyll  was  in  Strelsau. 
He  had  been  seen  by  somebody  and  taken 
for  the  king.  But  comfort  ?  What  com- 
fort was  there,  now  that  the  king  was 
dead  and  could  never  come  to  the  rescue 
of  his  counterfeit  ? 

In  fact,  the  truth  was  worse  than  I  con- 
ceived. Had  I  known  it  all,  I  might  well 
have  yielded  to  despair.  For  not  by  the 
chance,  uncertain  sight  of  a  passer-by,  not 
by  mere  rumor  which  might  have  been 
sturdily  denied,  not  by  the  evidence  of 
one  only  or  of  two,  was  the  king's  pres- 
ence in  the  city  known.  That  day,  by 
the  witness  of  a  crowd  of  people,  by  his 
own  claim  and  his  own  voice,  ay,  and  by 
the  assent  of  the  queen  herself,  Mr.  Ras- 
sendyll was  taken  to  be  the  king  in  Strel- 
sau, while  neither  he  nor  Queen  Flavia 
knew  that  the  king  was  dead.  I  must 
now  relate  the  strange  and  perverse  suc- 
cession of  events  which  forced  them  to 
employ  a  resource  so  dangerous  and  face 
a  peril  so  immense.  Yet,  great  and  peril- 
ous as  they  knew  the  risk  to  be  even  when 
they  dared  it,  in  the  light  of  what  they 
did  not  know  it  was  more  fearful  and 
more  fatal  still. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE    KING    IN    STRELSAU. 

Mr.  Rassendyll  reached  Strelsau  from 
Zenda  without  accident  about  nine  o'clock 
in  the  evening  of  the  same  day  as  that 
which  witnessed  the  tragedy  of  the  hunt- 
ing-lodge. He  could  have  arrived  sooner, 
but  prudence  did  not  allow  him  to  enter 
the  populous  suburbs  of  the  town  till  the 
darkness  guarded  him  from  notice.  The 
gates  of  the  city  were  no  longer  shut  at 
sunset,  as  they  had  used  to  be  in  the  days 
when   Duke    Michael   was  governor,    and 


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Rudolf  passed  them  without  difficulty. 
Fortunately  the  night,  fine  where  we 
were,  was  wet  and  stormy  at  Strelsau; 
thus  there  were  few  people  in  the  streets, 
and  he  was  able  to  gain  the  door  of  my 
house  still  unremarked.  Here,  of  course, 
a  danger  presented  itself.  None  of  my 
servants  were  in  the  secret;  only  my  wife, 
in  whom  the  queen  herself  had  confided, 
knew  Rudolf,  and  she  did  not  expect  to  see 
him,  since  she  was  ignorant  of  the  recent 
course  of  events.  Rudolf  was  quite  alive 
to  the  peril,  and  regretted  the  absence  of 
his  faithful  attendant,  who  could  have 
cleared  the  way  for  him.  The  pouring 
rain  gave  him  an  excuse  for  twisting  a 
scarf  about  his  face  and  pulling  his  coat- 
collar  up  to  his  ears,  while  the  gusts  of 
wind  made  the  cramming  of  his  hat  low 
down  over  his  eyes  no  more  than  a  natural 
precaution  against  its  loss.  Thus  masked 
from  curious  eyes,  he  drew  rein  before  my 
door,  and,  having  dismounted,  rang  the 
bell.  When  the  butler  came  a  strange 
hoarse  voice,  half-stifled  by  folds  of  scarf, 
asked  for  the  countess,  alleging  for  pre- 
text a  message  from  myself.  The  man 
hesitated,  as  well  he  might,  to  leave  the 
stranger  alone  with  the  door  open  and  the 
contents  of  the  hall  at  his  mercy.  Mur- 
muring an  apology  in  case  his  visitor 
should  prove  to  be  a  gentleman,  he  shut 
the  door  and  went  in  search  of  his  mis- 
tress. His  description  of  the  untimely 
caller  at  once  roused  my  wife's  quick  wit; 
she  had  heard  from  me  how  Rudolf  had 
ridden  once  from  Strelsau  to  the  hunting- 
lodge  with  muffled  face;  a  very  tall  man 
with  his  face  wrapped  in  a  scarf  and  his 
hat  over  his  eyes,  who  came  with  a  private 
message,  suggested  to  her  at  least  a  pos- 
sibility of  Mr.  Rassendyll's  arrival.  Helga 
will  never  admit  that  she  is  clever,  yet  I 
find  she  discovers  from  me  what  she  wants 
to  know,  and  I  suspect  hides  successfully 
the  small  matters  of  which  she  in  her 
wifely  discretion  deems  I  had  best  remain 
ignorant.  Being  able  thus  to  manage  me, 
she  was  equal  to  coping  with  the  butler. 
She  laid  aside  her  embroidery  most  com- 
posedly. 

44  Ah,  yes,"  she  said,  "  I  know  the  gen- 
tleman. Surely  you  haven't  left  him  out 
in  the  rain?"  She  was  anxious  lest 
Rudolf's  features  should  have  been  ex- 
posed too  long  to  the  light  of  the  hall- 
lamps. 

The  butler  stammered  an  apology,  ex- 
plaining his  fears  for  our  goods  and  the 
impossibility  of  distinguishing  social  rank 
on  a  dark  night.      Helga  cut  him  short 


with  an  impatient  gesture,  crying,  "  How 
stupid  of  you!"  and  herself  ran  quickly 
down  and  opened  the  door — a  little  way 
only,  though.  The  first  sight  of  Mr.  Ras- 
sendyll  confirmed  her  suspicions;  in  a  mo- 
ment, she  said,  she  knew  his  eyes. 

"It  is  you,  then?"  she  cried.  "And 
my  foolish  servant  has  left  you  in  the 
rain!  Pray  come  in.  Oh,  but  your 
horse!  "  She  turned  to  the  penitent  but- 
ler, who  had  followed  her  downstairs. 
44  Take  the  baron's  horse  round  to  the 
stables,"  she  said. 

"I  will  send  some  one  at  once,  my 
lady." 

41  No,  no,  take  it  yourself — take  it  at 
once.     I'll  look  after  the  baron." 

Reluctantly  and  ruefully  the  fat  fellow 
stepped  out  into  the  storm.  Rudolf  drew 
back  and  let  him  pass,  then  he  entered 
quickly,  to  find  himself  alone  with  Helga 
in  the  hall.  With  a  finger  on  her  lips,  she 
led  him  swiftly  into  a  small  sitting-room 
on  the  ground  floor,  which  I  used  as  a 
sort  of  office  or  place  of  business.  It 
looked  out  on  the  street,  and  the  rain 
could  be  heard  driving  against  the  broad 
panes  of  the  window.  Rudolf  turned  to 
her  with  a  smile,  and,  bowing,  kissed  her 
hand. 

14  The  Baron  what,  my  dear  countess  ?  " 
he  inquired. 

44  He  won't  ask,"  said  she  with  a  shrug. 
44  Do  tell  me  what  brings  you  here,  and 
what  has  happened." 

He  told  her  very  briefly  all  he  knew. 
She  hid  bravely  her  alarm  at  hearing  that 
I  might  perhaps  meet  Rupert  at  the  lodge, 
and  at  once  listened  to  what  Rudolf  wanted 
of  her. 

44  Can  I  get  out  of  the  house,  and,  if 
need  be,  back  again  unnoticed?"  he 
asked. 

44  The  door  is  locked  at  night,  and  only 
Fritz  and  the  butler  have  keys." 

Mr.  Rassendyll's  eye  traveled  to  the 
window  of  the  room. 

44 1  haven't  grown  so  fat  that  I  can't  get 
through  there,"  said  he.  "  So  we'd  better 
not  trouble  the  butler.  He'd  talk,  you 
know." 

44 1  will  sit  here  all  night  and  keep 
everybody  from  the  room." 

*4 1  may  come  back  pursued  if  I  bungle 
my  work  and  an  alarm  is  raised." 

44  Your  work?"  she  asked,  shrinking 
back  a  little. 

44  Yes,"  said  he.  "  Don't  ask  what  it 
is,  Countess.    It  is  in  the  queen's  service." 

44  For  the  queen  I  will  do  anything  and 
everything,  as  Fritz  would." 


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He  took  her  hand  and  pressed  it  in  a 
friendly,  encouraging  way. 

11  Then  I  may  issue  my  orders?"  he 
asked,  smiling. 

4*  They  shall  be  obeyed." 

"  Then  a  dry  cloak,  a  little  supper,  and 
this  room  to  myself,  except  for  you." 

As  he  spoke  the  butler  turned  the  handle 
of  the  door.  My  wife  flew  across  the 
room,  opened  the  door,  and,  while  Rudolf 
turned  his  back,  directed  the  man  to  bring 
some  cold  meat,  or  whatever  could  be 
ready  with  as  little  delay  as  possible. 

"  Now  come  with  me,"  she  said  to  Ru- 
dolf, directly  the  servant  was  gone. 

She  took  him  to  my  dressing-room, 
where  he  got  dry  clothes;  then  she  saw 
the  supper  laid,  ordered  a  bedroom  to  be 
prepared,  told  the  butler  that  she  had  busi- 
ness with  the  baron  and  that  he  need  not 
sit  up  if  she  were  later  than  eleven,  dis- 
missed him,  and  went  to  tell  Rudolf  that 
the  coast  was  clear  for  his  return  to  the 
sitting-room.  He  came,  expressing  admi- 
ration for  her  courage  and  address;  I  take 
leave  to  think  that  she  deserved  his  com- 
pliments. He  made  a  hasty  supper;  then 
they  talked  together,  Rudolf  smoking  his 
cigar.  Eleven  came  and  went.  It  was 
not  yet  time.  My  wife  opened  the  door 
and  looked  out.  The  hall  was  dark,  the 
door  locked  and  its  key  in  the  hands  of 
the  butler.  She  closed  the  door  again  and 
softly  locked  it.  As  the  clock  struck 
twelve  Rudolf  rose  and  turned  the  lamp 
very  low.  Then  he  unfastened  the  shut- 
ters noiselessly,  raised  the  window  and 
looked  out.  "  Shut  them  again  when  I'm 
gone,"  he  whispered.  "If  I  come  back, 
I'll  knock  like  this,  and  you'll  open  for 
me. 

"For  heaven's  sake,  be  careful,"  she 
murmured,  catching  at  his  hand. 

He  nodded  reassuringly,  and  crossing 
his  leg  over  the  window-sill,  sat  there  for 
a  moment  listening.  The  storm  was  as 
fierce  as  ever,  and  the  street  was  deserted. 
He  let  himself  down  on  to  the  pavement, 
his  face  again  wrapped  up.  She  watched 
his  tall  figure  stride  quickly  along  till  a 
turn  of  the  road  hid  it.  Then,  having 
closed  the  window  and  the  shutters  again, 
she  sat  down  to  keep  her  watch,  praying 
for  him,  for  me,  and  for  her  dear  mistress 
the  queen.  For  she  knew  that  perilous 
work  was  afoot  that  night,  and  did  not 
know  whom  it  might  threaten  or  whom 
destroy. 

From  the  moment  that  Mr.  Rassendyll 
thus  left  my  house  at  midnight  on  his 
search  for  Rupert  of  Hentzau,  every  hour 


and  almost  every  moment  brought  its  in- 
cident in  the  swiftly  moving  drama  which 
decided  the  issues  of  our  fortune.  What 
we  were  doing  has  been  told;  by  now 
Rupert  himself  was  on  his  way  back  to 
the  city,  and  the  queen  was  meditating, 
in  her  restless  vigil,  on  the  resolve  that 
in  a  few  hours  was  to  bring  her  also  to 
Strelsau.  Even  in  the  dead  of  night  both 
sides  were  active.  For,  plan  cautiously 
and  skilfully  as  he  might,  Rudolf  fought 
with  an  antagonist  who  lost  no  chances, 
and  who  had  found  an  apt  and  useful  tool 
in  that  same  Bauer,  a  rascal,  and  a  cunning 
rascal,  if  ever  one  were  bred  in  the  world. 
From  the  beginning  even  to  the  end  our 
error  lay  in  taking  too  little  count  of  this 
fellow,  and  dear  was  the  price  we  paid. 

Both  to  my  wife  and  to  Rudolf  himself 
the  street  had  seemed  empty  of  every 
living  being  when  she  watched  and  he  set 
out.  Yet  everything  had  been  seen,  from 
his  first  arrival  to  the  moment  when  she 
closed  the  window  after  him.  At  either 
end  of  my  house  there  runs  out  a  projec- 
tion, formed  by  the  bay-windows  of  the 
principal  drawing-room  and  of  the  dining- 
room  respectively.  These  projecting 
walls  form  shadows,  and  in  the  shade  of 
one  of  them — of  which  I  do  not  know, 
nor  is  it  of  moment — a  man  watched  all 
that  passed;  had  he  been  anywhere  else. 
Rudolf  must  have  seen  him.  If  we  had 
not  been  too  engrossed  in  playing  our  own 
hands,  it  would  doubtless  have  struck  us 
as  probable  that  Rupert  would  direct 
Rischenheim  and  Bauer  to  keep  an  eye  on 
my  house  during  his  absence:  for  it  was 
there  that  any  of  us  who  found  our  way  to 
the  city  would  naturally  resort  in  the  first 
instance.  As  a  fact,  he  had  not  omitted 
this  precaution.  The  night  was  so  dark 
that  the  spy,  who  had  seen  the  king  but 
once  and  never  Mr.  Rassendyll,  did  not 
recognize  who  the  visitor  was,  but  he 
rightly  conceived  that  he  should  serve  his 
employer  by  tracking  the  steps  of  the  tall 
man  who  made  so  mysterious  an  arrival 
and  so  surreptitious  a  departure  from  the 
suspected  house.  Accordingly,  as  Rudolf 
turned  the  corner  and  Helga  closed  the 
window,  a  short,  thickset  figure  started 
cautiously  out  of  the  projecting  shadow 
and  followed  in  Rudolf's  wake  through 
the  storm.  The  pair,  tracker  and  tracked, 
met  nobody,  save  here  and  there  a  police- 
constable  keeping  a  most  unwilling  beat 
Even  such  were  few,  and  for  the  most  part 
more  intent  on  sheltering  in  the  lee  of  a 
friendly  wall  and  thereby  keeping  a  dry 
stitch  or   two   on   them    than   on   taking 


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note  of  passers-by.  On  the  pair  went. 
Now  Rudolf  turned  into  the  Konigstrasse. 
As  he  did  so,  Bauer,  who  must  have  been 
nearly  a  hundred  yards  behind  (for  he  could 
not  start  till  the  shutters  were  closed) 
quickened  his  pace  and  reduced  the  inter- 
val between  them  to  about  seventy  yards. 
This  he  might  well  have  thought  a  safe 
distance  on  a  night  so  wild,  when  the  rush 
of  wind  and  the  pelt  of  the  rain  joined  to 
hide  the  sound  of  footsteps. 

But  Bauer  reasoned  as  a  townsman,  and 
Rudolf  Rassendyll  had  the  quick  ear  of  a 
man  bred  in  the  country  and  trained  to  the 
woodland.  All  at  once  there  was  a  jerk 
of  his  head;  I  know  so  well  the  motion 
which  marked  awakened  attention  in  him. 
He  did  not  pause  nor  break  his  stride:  to 
do  either  would  have  been  to  betray  his 
suspicions  to  his  follower;  but  he  crossed 
the  road  to  the  opposite  side  to  that  where 
No.  19  was  situated,  and  slackened  his 
pace  a  little,  so  that  there  was  a  longer 
interval  between  his  own  footfalls.  The 
steps  behind  him  grew  slower,  even  as  his 
did;  their  sound  came  no  nearer:  the  fol- 
lower would  not  overtake.  Now,  a  man 
who  loiters  on  such  a  night,  just  because 
another  head  of  him  is  fool  enough  to  loi- 
ter, has  a  reason  for  his  action  other  than 
what  can  at  first  sight  be  detected.  So 
thought  Rudolf  Rassendyll,  and  his  brain 
was  busied  with  finding  it  out. 

Then  an  idea  seized  him,  and,  forget- 
ting the  precautions  that  had  hitherto 
served  so  well,  he  came  to  a  sudden  stop 
on  the  pavement,  engrossed  in  deep 
thought.  Was  the  man  who  dogged  his 
steps  Rupert  himself  ?  It  would  be  like 
Rupert  to  track  him,  like  Rupert  to  con- 
ceive such  an  attack,  like  Rupert  to  be 
ready  either  for  a  fearless  assault  from  the 
front  or  a  shameless  shot  from  behind,  and 
indifferent  utterly  which  chance  offered, 
so  it  threw  him  one  of  them.  Mr.  Ras- 
sendyll asked  no  better  than  to  meet  his 
enemy  thus  in  the  open.  They  could 
fight  a  fair  fight,  and  if  he  fell  the  lamp 
would  be  caught  up  and  carried  on  by 
Sapt's  hand  or  mine;  if  he  got  the  better 
of  Rupert,  the  letter  would  be  his;  a  mo- 
ment would  destroy  it  and  give  safety  to 
the  queen.  I  do  not  suppose  that  he  spent 
time  in  thinking  how  he  should  escape 
arrest  at  the  hands  of  the  police  whom  the 
fracas  would  probably  rouse;  if  he  did, 
he  may  well  have  reckoned  on  declaring 
plainly  who  he  was,  of  laughing  at  their 
surprise  over  a  chance  likeness  to  the  king, 
and  of  trusting  to  us  to  smuggle  him  be- 
yond the  arm  of  the  law.     What  mattered 


all  that,  so  that  there  was  a  moment  in 
which  to  destroy  the  letter  ?  At  any  rate 
he  turned  full  round  and  began  to  walk 
straight  towards  Bauer,  his  hand  resting 
on  the  revolver  in  the  pocket  of  his  coat. 

Bauer  saw  him  coming,  and  must  have 
known  that  he  was  suspected  or  detected. 
At  once  the  cunning  fellow  slouched  his 
head  between  his  shoulders,  and  set  out 
along  the  street  at  a  quick  shuffle,  whis- 
tling as  he  went.  Rudolf  stood  still  now 
in  the  middle  of  the  road,  wondering  who 
the  man  was:  whether  Rupert,  purposely 
disguising  his  gait,  or  a  confederate,  or, 
after  all,  some  person  innocent  of  our 
secret  and  indifferent  to  our  schemes.  On 
came  Bauer,  softly  whistling  and  slushing 
his  feet  carelessly  through  the  liquid  mud. 
Now  he  was  nearly  opposite  where  Mr. 
Rassendyll  stood.  Rudolf  was  well-nigh 
convinced  that  the  man  had  been  on  his 
track:  he  would  make  certainty  surer. 
The  bold  game  was  always  his  choice  and 
his  delight;  this  trait  he  shared  with 
Rupert  of  Hentzau,  and  hence  arose,  I 
think,  the  strange  secret  inclination  he 
had  for  his  unscrupulous  opponent.  Now 
he  walked  suddenly  across  to  Bauer,  and 
spoke  to  him  in  his  natural  voice,  at  the 
same  time  removing  the  scarf  partly,  but 
not  altogether,  from  his  face. 

"You're  out  late,  my  friend,  for  a 
night  like  this." 

Bauer,  startled  though  he  was  by  the 
unexpected  challenge,  had  his  wits  about 
him.  Whether  he  identified  Rudolf  at 
once,  I  do  not  know;  I  think  that  he  must 
at  least  have  suspected  the  truth. 

41  A  lad  that  has  no  home  to  go  to  must 
needs  be  out  both  late  and  early,  sir,"  said 
he,  arresting  his  shuffling  steps,  and  look- 
ing up  with  that  honest  stolid  air  which 
had  made  a  fool  of  me. 

I  had  described  him  very  minutely  to 
Mr.  Rassendyll;  if  Bauer  knew  or  guessed 
who  his  challenger  was,  Mr.  Rassendyll 
was  as  well  equipped  for  the  encounter. 

44  No  home  to  go  to!  M  cried  Rudolf  in 
a  pitying  tone.  4<  How's  that  ?  But  any- 
how, heaven  forbid  that  you  or  any  man 
should  walk  the  streets  a  night  like  this. 
Come,  I'll  give  you  a  bed.  Come  with  me, 
and  I'll  find  you  good  shelter,  my  boy." 

Bauer  shrank  away.  He  did  not  see  the 
meaning  of  this  stroke,  and  his  eye,  trav- 
eling up  the  street,  showed  that  his 
thoughts  had  turned  towards  flight.  Ru- 
dolf gave  no  time  for  putting  any  such 
notion  into  effect.  Maintaining  his  air  of 
genial  compassion,  he  passed  his  left  arm 
through  Bauer's  right,  saying: 

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"  I'm  a  Christian  man,  and  a  bed  you 
shall  have  this  night,  my  lad,  as  sure  as 
I'm  alive.  Come  along  with  me.  The 
devil,  it's  not  weather  for  standing  still!  " 

The  carrying  of  arms  in  Strelsau  was 
forbidden.  Bauer  had  no  wish  to  get  into 
trouble  with  the  police,  and,  moreover,  he 
had  intended  nothing  but  a  reconnaissance; 
he  was  therefore  without  any  weapon,  and 
he  was  a  child  in  Rudolf's  grasp.  He 
had  no  alternative  but  to  obey  the  suasion 
of  Mr.  Rassendyll's  arm,  and  they  two 
began  to  walk  down  the  Konigstrasse. 
Bauer's  whistle  had  died  away,  not  to 
return;  but  from  time  to  time  Rudolf 
hummed  softly  a  cheerful  tune,  his  fin- 
gers beating  time  on  Bauer's  captive  arm. 
Presently  they  crossed  the  road.  Bauer's 
lagging  steps  indicated  that  he  took  no 
pleasure  in  the  change  of  side,  but  he 
could  not  resist. 

"  Ay,  you  shall  go  where  I  am  going, 
my  lad,"  said  Rudolf  encouragingly;  and 
he  laughed  a  little  as  he  looked  down  at 
the  fellow's  face. 

Along  they  went;  soon  they  came  to  the 
small  numbers  at  the  station  end  of  the 
Konigstrasse.  Rudolf  began  to  peer  up 
at  the  shop  fronts. 

"It's  cursed  dark,"  said  he.  "Pray, 
lad,  can  you  make  out  which  is  nineteen  ?  " 

The  moment  he  had  spoken  the  smile 
broadened  on  his  face.  The  shot  had 
gone  home.  Bauer  was  a  clever  scoun- 
drel, but  his  nerves  were  not  under  perfect 
control,  and  his  arm  had  quivered  under 
Rudolf's. 

"  Nineteen,  sir  ?  "  he  stammered. 

"Ay,  nineteen.  That's  where  we're 
bound  for,  you  and  I.  There  I  hope  we 
shall  find — what  we  want." 

Bauer  seemed  bewildered :  no  doubt  he 
was  at  a  loss  how  either  to  understand  or 
to  parry  the  bold  attack. 

"Ah,  this  looks  like  it,"  said  Rudolf, 
in  a  tone  of  great  satisfaction,  as  they 
came  to  old  Mother  Holf's  little  shop. 
"  Isn't  that  a  one  and  a  nine  over  the  door, 
my  lad?  Ah,  and  Holf!  Yes,  that's  the 
name.  Pray  ring  the  bell.  My  hands  are 
occupied." 

Rudolf's  hands  were  indeed  occupied; 
one  held  Bauer's  arm,  now  no  longer  with 
a  friendly  pressure,  but  with  a  grip  of  iron; 
in  the  other  the  captive  saw  the  revolver 
that  had  till  now  lain  hidden. 

"You  see?"  asked  Rudolf  pleasantly. 
"  You  must  ring  for  me,  mustn't  you  ?  It 
would  startle  them  if  I  roused  them  with  a 
shot."  A  motion  of  the  barrel  told  Bauer 
the  direction  which  the  shot  would  take. 


"  There's  no  bell,"  said  Bauer  sullenly. 

"  Ah,  then  you  knock  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  In  any  particular  way,  my  friend  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  growled  Bauer. 

"  Nor  I.     Can't  you  guess  ? " 

"  No,  I  know  nothing  of  it." 

"  Well,  we  must  try.  You  knock,  and — 
Listen,  my  lad.  You  must  guess  right. 
You  understand  ? " 

"How  can  I  guess?"  asked  Bauer,  in 
an  attempt  at  bluster. 

"  Indeed,  I  don't  know,"  smiled  Rudolf. 
"  But  I  hate  waiting,  and  if  the  door  is 
not  open  in  two  minutes,  I  shall  arouse  the 
good  folk  with  a  shot.  You  see  ?  You 
quite  see,  don't  you?"  Again  the  bar- 
rel's motion  pointed  and  explained  Mr. 
Rassendyll's  meaning. 

Under  this  powerful  persuasion  Bauer 
yielded.  He  lifted  his  hand  and  knocked 
on  the  door  with  his  knuckles,  first  loudly, 
then  very  softly,  the  gentler  stroke  being 
repeated  five  times  in  rapid  succession. 
Clearly  he  was  expected,  for  without  any 
sound  of  approaching  feet  the  chain  was 
unfastened  with  a  subdued  rattle.  Then 
came  the  noise  of  the  bolt  being  cautiously 
worked  back  into  its  socket.  As  it  shot 
home  a  chink  of  the  door  opened.  At 
the  same  moment  Rudolf's  hand  slipped 
from  Bauer's  arm.  With  a  swift  move- 
ment he  caught  the  fellow  by  the  nape  of 
the  neck  and  flung  him  violently  forward 
into  the  roadway,  where,  losing  his  foot- 
ing, he  fell  sprawling  face  downwards  in 
the  mud.  Rudolf  threw  himself  against 
the  door:  it  yielded,  he  was  inside,  and  in 
an  instant  he  had  shut  the  door  and  driven 
the  bolt  home  again,  leaving  Bauer  in  the 
gutter  outside.  Then  he  turned,  with  his 
hand  on  the  butt  of  his  revolver.  I  know 
that  he  hoped  to  find  Rupert  of  Hentzau's 
face  within  a  foot  of  his. 

Neither  Rupert  nor  Rischenheim,  nor 
even  the  old  woman  fronted  him:  a  tall, 
handsome,  dark  girl  faced  him,  holding 
an  oil-lamp  in  her  hand.  He  did  not 
know  her,  but  I  could  have  told  him  that 
she  was  old  Mother  Holf's  youngest  child, 
Rosa,  for  I  had  often  seen  her  as  I  rode 
through  the  town  of  Zenda  with  the  king, 
before  the  old  lady  moved  her  dwelling  to 
Strelsau.  Indeed  the  girl  had  seemed  to 
haunt  the  king's  footsteps,  and  he  had 
himself  joked  on  her  obvious  efforts  to 
attract  his  attention,  and  the  languishing 
glances  of  her  great  black  eyes.  But  it  is 
the  lot  of  prominent  personages  to  inspire 
these  strange  passions,  and  the  king  had 
spent  as  little  thought  on  her  as  on  any  of 


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ANTHONY  HOPE. 


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the  romantic  girls  who  found  a  naughty 
delight  in  half-fanciful  devotion  to  him — 
devotion  starting,  in  many  cases,  by  an 
irony  of  which  the  king  was  happily  un- 
conscious, from  the  brave  figure  that  he 
made  at  his  coronation  and  his  picturesque 
daring  in  the  affair  of  Black  Michael. 
The  worshipers  never  came  near  enough 
to  perceive  the  alteration  in  their  idol. 

The  half  then,  at  least,  of  Rosa's  at- 
tachment was  justly  due  to  the  man  who 
now  stood  opposite  to  her,  looking  at  her 
with  surprise  by  the  murky  light  of  the 
strong-smelling  oil-lamp.  The  lamp  shook 
and  almost  fell  from  her  hand  when  she 
saw  him;  for  the  scarf  had  slid  away,  and 
his  features  were  exposed  to  full  view. 
Fright,  delight,  and  excitement  vied  with 
one  another  in  her  eyes. 

"The  king!"  she  whispered  in  amaze- 
ment. "No,  but — "  And  she  searched 
his  face  wonderingly. 

"  Is  it  the  beard  you  miss  ? "  asked  Ru- 
dolf, fingering  his  chin.  "  Mayn't  kings 
shave  when  they  please,  as  well  as  other 
men  ?  "  Her  face  still  expressed  bewil- 
derment, and  still  a  lingering  doubt.  He 
bent  towards  her,  whispering: 

"  Perhaps  I  wasn't  over-anxious  to  be 
known  at  once." 

She  flushed  with  pleasure  at  the  confi- 
dence he  seemed  to  put  in  her. 

"I  should  know  you  anywhere,"  she 
whispered,  with  a  glance  of  the  great  black 
eyes.     "Anywhere,  Your  Majesty." 

"  Then  you'll  help  me,  perhaps  ?  " 

"With  my  life." 

"  No,  no,  my  dear  young  lady,  merely 
with  a  little  information.  Whose  house 
is  this?" 

"  My  mother's." 

"Ah!     She  takes  lodgers  ?  " 

The  girl  appeared  vexed  at  his  cautious 
approaches. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  want  to  know,"  she 
said  simply. 

"  Then  who's  here  ?  " 

"  My  lord  the  Count  of  Luzau-Risch- 
enheim." 

"  And  what's  he  doing  ?  " 

"  He's  lying  on  the  bed  moaning  and 
swearing,  because  his  wounded  arm  gives 
him  pain." 

"  And  is  nobody  else  here  ?  " 

She  looked  round  warily,  and  sank  her 
voice  to  a  whisper  as  she  answered: 

"  No,  not  now — nobody  else." 

"  I  was  seeking  a  friend  of  mine,"  said 
Rudolf.  "  I  want  to  see  him  alone.  It's 
not  easy  for  a  king  to  see  people  alone." 

"  You  mean ?  " 


"  Well,  you  know  who  I  mean." 

"  Yes.  No,  he's  gone;  but  he's  gone  to 
find  you." 

"To  find  me!  Plague  take  it!  How 
do  you  know  that,  my  pretty  lady  ? " 

"Bauer  told  me." 

"  Ah,  Bauer!     And  who's  Bauer  ? " 

"  The  man  who  knocked.  Why  did  you 
shut  him  out  ?" 

"To  be  alone  with  you,  to  be  sure.  So 
Bauer  tells  you  his  master's  secrets  ? " 

She  acknowledged  his  raillery  with  a 
coquettish  laugh.  It  was  not  amiss  for 
the  king  to  see  that  she  had  her  ad- 
mirers. 

"  Well,  and  where  has  this  foolish  count 
gone  to  meet  me?"  asked  Rudolf  lightly. 

"  You  haven't  seen  him  ?  " 

"No;  I  came  straight  from  the  Castle 
of  Zenda." 

"  But,"  she  cried,  "  he  expected  to  find 
you  at  the  hunting-lodge.  Ah,  but  now  I 
recollect!  The  Count  of  Rischenheim  was 
greatly  vexed  to  find,  on  his  return,  that 
his  cousin  was  gone." 

"  Ah,  he  was  gone!  Now  J  see!  Risch- 
enheim brought  a  message  from  me  to 
Count  Rupert." 

"  And  they  missed  one  another,  Your 
Majesty  ?" 

"  Exactly,  my  dear  young  lady.  Very 
vexatious  it  is,  upon  my  word!  "  In  this 
remark,  at  least,  Rudolf  spoke  no  more 
and  no  other  than  he  felt.  "  But  when  do 
you  expect  the  Count  of  Hentzau?"  he 
pursued. 

"  Early  in  the  morning,  Your  Majesty — 
at  seven  or  eight." 

Rudolf  came  nearer  to  her,  and  took  a 
couple  of  gold  coins  from  his  pocket. 

"  I  don't  want  money,  Your  Majesty," 
she  murmured. 

"Oh,  make  a  hole  in  them  and  hang 
them  round  your  neck." 

"Ah,  yes:  yes,  give  them  to  me,"  she 
cried,  holding  out  her  hand  eagerly. 

"You'll  earn  them?"  he  asked,  play- 
fully holding  them  out  of  her  reach. 

"How?" 

"  By  being  ready  to  open  to  me  when 
I  come  at  eleven  and  knock  as  Bauer 
knocked." 

"Yes,  I'll  be  there." 

"  And  by  telling  nobody  that  I've  been 
here  to-night.  Will  you  promise  me 
that?" 

"  Not  my  mother?" 

"No." 

"  Nor  the  Count  of  Luzau-Rischen- 
heim  ? " 

"  Him  least  of  all.      You  must  tell  no- 


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RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


body.      My  business  is  very  private,  and 
Rischenheim  doesn't  know  it." 
•    "  I'll   do   all   you    tell    me.      But — but 
Bauer  knows." 

"  True,"  said  Rudolf.  "  Bauer  knows. 
Well,  we'll  see  about  Bauer." 

As  he  spoke  he  turned  towards  the  door. 
Suddenly  the  girl  bent,  snatched  at  his 
hand  and  kissed  it. 

"  I  would  die  for  you,"  she  murmured. 

"Poor  child!"  said  he  gently.  I  be- 
lieve he  was  loath  to  make  profit,  even  in 
the  queen's  service,  of  her  poor  foolish 
love.  He  laid  his  hand  on  the  door,  but 
paused  a  moment  to  say, 

"  If  Bauer  comes,  you  have  told  me 
nothing.  Mind,  nothing!  I  threatened 
you,  but  you  told  me  nothing." 

"  He'll  tell  them  you  have  been  here." 

"That  can't  be  helped;  at  least  they 
won't  know  when  I  shall  arrive  again. 
Good-night." 

Rudolf  opened  the  door  and  slipped 
through,  closing  it  hastily  behind  him.  If 
Bauer  got  back  to  the  house,  his  visit 
must  be  known;  but  if  he  could  intercept 
Bauer,  the  girl's  silence  was  assured.  He 
stood  just  outside,  listening  intently  and 
searching  the  darkness  with  eager  eyes. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

WHAT    THE   CHANCELLOR'S    WIFE   SAW. 

The  night,  so  precious  in  its  silence, 
solitude,  and  darkness,  was  waning  fast; 
soon  the  first  dim  approaches  of  day  would 
be  visible;  soon  the  streets  would  become 
alive  and  people  be  about.  Before  then 
Rudolf  Rassendyll,  the  man  who  bore  a 
face  that  he  dared  not  show  in  open  day, 
must  be  under  cover;  else  men  would  say 
that  the  king  was  in  Strelsau,  and  the 
news  would  flash  in  a  few  hours  through 
the  kingdom  and  (so  Rudolf  feared)  reach 
even  those  ears  which  we  knew  to  be  shut 
to  all  earthly  sounds.  But  there  was  still 
some  time  at  Mr.  Rassendyll's  disposal, 
and  he  could  not  spend  it  better  than  in 
pursuing  his  fight  with  Bauer.  Taking  a 
leaf  out  of  the  rascal's  own  book,  he  drew 
himself  back  into  the  shadow  of  the  house 
walls  and  prepared  to  wait.  At  the  worst 
he  could  keep  the  fellow  from  communicat- 
ing with  Rischenheim  for  a  little  longer, 
but  his  hope  was  that  Bauer  would  steal 
back  after  a  while  and  reconnoiter  with  a 
view  to  discovering  how  matters  stood, 
whether  the  unwelcome  visitor  had  taken 
his  departure  and   the   way  to   Rischen- 


heim were  open.  Wrapping  his  scarf 
closely  round  his  face,  Rudolf  wailed, 
patiently  enduring  the  tedium  as  he  best 
might,  drenched  by  the  rain,  which  fell 
steadily,  and  very  imperfectly  sheltered 
from  the  buffeting  of  the  wind.  Minutes 
went  by;  there  were  no  signs  of  Bauer 
nor  of  anybody  else  in  the  silent  street. 
Yet  Rudolf  did  not  venture  to  leave  his 
post;  Bauer  would  seize  the  opportunity 
to  slip  in;  perhaps  Bauer  had  seen  him 
come  out,  and  was  in  his  turn  waiting 
till  the  coast  should  be  clear;  or,  again, 
perhaps  the  useful  spy  had  gone  off  to 
intercept  Rupert  of  Hentzau,  and  warn 
him  of  the  danger  in  the  Konigstrasse. 
Ignorant  of  the  truth  and  compelled  to 
accept  all  these  chances,  Rudolf  waited, 
still  watching  the  distant  beginnings  of 
dawning  day,  which  must  soon  drive  him 
to  his  hiding-place  again.  Meanwhile  my 
poor  wife  waited  also,  a  prey  to  every  fear 
that  a  woman's  sensitive  mind  can  imagine 
and  feed  upon. 

Rudolf  turned  his  head  this  way  and 
that,  seeking  always  the  darker  blot  of 
shadow  that  would  mean  a  human  being. 
For  a  while  his  search  was  vain,  but  pres- 
ently he  found  what  he  looked  for — ay, 
and  even  more.  On  the  same  side  of  the 
street,  to  his  left  hand,  from  the  direction 
of  the  station,  not  one,  but  three  blurred 
shapes  moved  up  the  street.  They  came 
stealthily,  yet  quickly;  with  caution,  but 
without  pause  or  hesitation.  Rudolf, 
scenting  danger,  flattened  himself  close 
against  the  wall  and  felt  for  his  revolver. 
Very  likely  they  were  only  early  workers 
or  late  revelers,  but  he  was  ready  for 
something  else;  he  had  not  yet  sighted 
Bauer,  and  action  was  to  be  looked  for 
from  the  man.  By  infinitely  gradual  side- 
long slitherings  he  moved  a  few  paces 
from  the  door  of  Mother  Holf's  house, 
and  stood  six  feet  perhaps,  or  eight,  on 
the  right-hand  side  of  it.  The  thrfee  came 
on.  He  strained  his  eyes  in  the  effort  to 
discern  their  features.  In  that  dim  light 
certainty  was  impossible,  but  the  one  in 
the  middle  might  well  be  Bauer:  the 
height,  the  walk,  and  the  make  were  much 
what  Bauer's  were.  If  it  were  Bauer,  then 
Bauer  had  friends,  and  Bauer  and  his 
friends  seemed  to  be  stalking  some  game. 
Always  most  carefully  and  gradually  Ru- 
dolf edged  yet  farther  from  the  little 
shop.  At  a  distance  of  some  five  yards  he 
halted  finally,  drew  out  his  revolver,  cov- 
ered the  man  whom  he  took  to  be  Bauer, 
and  thus  waited  his  fortune  and  his 
chance. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


ANTHONY  HOPE. 


467 


Now,  it  was  plain  that  Bauer — for  Bauer 
it  was — would  look  for  one  of  two  things: 
what  he  hoped  was  to  find  Rudolf  still  in 
the  house,  what  he  feared  was  to  be  told 
that  Rudolf,  having  fulfilled  the  unknown 
purpose  of  his  visit,  was  gone  whole  and 
sound.  If  the  latter  tidings  met  him, 
these  two  good  friends  of  his  whom  he 
had  enlisted  for  his  reinforcement  were  to 
have  five  crowns  each  and  go  home  in 
peace;  if  the  former,  they  were  to  do  their 
work  and  make  ten  crowns.  Years  after, 
pne  of  them  told  me  the  whole  story  with- 
out shame  or  reserve.  What  their  work 
was,  the  heavy  bludgeons  they  carried  and 
the  long  knife  that  one  of  them  had  lent  to 
Bauer  showed  pretty  clearly.  But  neither 
to  Bauer  nor  to  them  did  it  occur  that 
their  quarry  might  be  crouching  near, 
hunting  as  well  as  hunted.  Not  that  the 
pair  of  ruffians  who  had  been  thus  hired 
would  have  hesitated  for  that  thought,  as 
I  imagine.  For  it  is  strange,  yet  certain, 
that  the  zenith  of  courage  and  the  acme 
of  villainy  can  alike  be  bought  for  the 
price  of  a  lady's  glove.  Among  such  out- 
casts as  those  from  whom  Bauer  drew  his 
recruits  the  murder  of  a  man  is  held  seri- 
ous only  when  the  police  are  by,  and  death 
at  the  hands  of  him  they  seek  to  kill  is 
no  more  than  an  every-day  risk  of  their 
employment. 

"Here's  the  house,"  whispered  Bauer, 
stopping  at  the  door.  "  Now,  I'll  knock, 
and  you  stand  by  to  knock  him  on  the  head 
if  he  runs  out.  He's  got  a  six-shooter, 
so  lose  no  time." 

"  He'll  only  fire  it  in  heaven,"  growled 
a  hoarse,  guttural  voice  that  ended  in  a 
chuckle. 

"  But  if  he's  gone  ?  "  objected  the  other 
auxiliary. 

"Then  I  know  where  he's  gone,"  an- 
swered Bauer.     "  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

A  ruffian  stood  on  either  side  of  the 
door  with  uplifted  bludgeon.  Bauer 
raised  his  hand  to  knock. 

Rudolf  knew  that  Rischenheim  was 
within,  and  he  feared  that  Bauer,  hearing 
that  the  stranger  had  gone,  would  take 
the  opportunity  of  telling  the  count  of  his 
visit.  The  count  would,  in  his  turn,  warn 
Rupert  of  Hentzau,  and  the  work  of 
catching  the  ringleader  would  all  fall  to 
be  done  again.  At  no  time  did  Mr.  Ras- 
sendyll  take  count  of  odds  against  him, 
but  in  this  instance  he  may  well  have 
thought  himself,  with  his  revolver,  a  match 
for  the  three  ruffians.  At  any  rate,  before 
Bauer  had  time  to  give  the  signal,  he 
sprang  out  suddenly   from   the   wall  and 


darted  at  the  fellow.  His  onset  was  so 
sudden  that  the  other  two  fell  back  a  pace; 
Rudolf  caught  Bauer  fairly  by  the  throat. 
I  do  not  suppose  that  he  meant  to  strangle 
him,  but  the  anger,  long  stored  in  his 
heart,  found  vent  in  the  fierce  grip  of  his 
fingers.  It  is  certain  that  Bauer  thought 
his  time  was  come,  unless  he  struck  a 
blow  for  himself.  Instantly  he  raised  his 
hand  and  thrust  fiercely  at  Rudolf  with 
his  long  knife.  Mr.  Rassendyll  would 
have  been  a  dead  man,  had  he  not  loosed 
his  hold  and  sprung  lightly  away.  But 
Bauer  sprang  at  him  again,  thrusting  with 
the  knife,  and  crying  to  his  associates, 
"  Club  him,  you  fools,  club  him!  " 

Thus  exhorted,  one  jumped  forward. 
The  moment  for  hesitation  had  gone.  In 
spite  of  the  noise  of  wind  and  pelting 
rain,  the  sound  of  a  shot  risked  much; 
but  not  to  fire  was  death.  Rudolf  fired 
full  at  Bauer:  the  fellow  saw  his  intention 
and  tried  to  leap  behind  one  of  his  com- 
panions; he  was  just  too  late,  and  fell 
with  a  groan  to  the  ground. 

Again  the  other  ruffians  shrank  back, 
appalled  by  the  sudden  ruthless  deci- 
sion of  the  act.  Mr.  Rassendyll  laughed. 
A  half-smothered  yet  uncontrolled  oath 
broke  from  one  of  them.  "By  God!" 
he  whispered  hoarsely,  gazing  at  Rudolf's 
face  and  letting  his  arm  fall  to  his  side. 
"  My  God!  "  he  said  then,  and  his  mouth 
hung  open.  Again  Rudolf  laughed  at 
his  terrified  stare. 

"  A  bigger  job  than  you  fancied,  is  it  ?  " 
he  asked,  pushing  his  scarf  well  away 
from  his  chin. 

The  man  gaped  at  him;  the  other's  eyes 
asked  wondering  questions,  but  neither  did 
he  attempt  to  resume  the  attack.  The 
first  at  last  found  voice,  and  he  said, 
"  Well,  it'd  be  damned  cheap  at  ten 
crowns,  and  that's  the  living  truth." 

His  friend — or  confederate  rather,  for 
such  men  have  no  friends — looked  on, 
still  amazed. 

"  Take  up  that  fellow  by  his  head  and 
his  heels,"  ordered  Rudolf.  "Quickly!  I 
suppose  you  don't  want  the  police  to  find 
us  here  with  him,  do  you  ?  Well,  no  more 
do  I.     Lift  him  up." 

As  he  spoke  Rudolf  turned  to  knock  at 
the  door  of  No.  19. 

But  even  as  he  did  so  Bauer  groaned. 
Dead  perhaps  he  ought  to  have  been,  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  fate  is  always  ready  to 
take  the  cream  and  leave  the  scum.  His 
leap  aside  had  served  him  well,  after  all: 
he  had  nearly  escaped  scot  free.  As  it 
was,  the  bullet,  almost  missing  his  head 
Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


468 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


altogether,  had  just  glanced  on  his  temple 
as  it  passed;  its  impact  had  stunned,  but 
not  killed.  Friend  Bauer  was  in  unusual 
luck  that  night;  I  wouldn't  have  taken  a 
hundred  to  one  about  his  chance  of  life. 
Rupert  arrested  his  hand.  It  would  not 
do  to  leave  Bauer  at  thfc  house,  if  Bauer 
were  likely  to  regain  speech.  He  stood 
for  a  moment,  considering  what  to  do,  but 
in  an  instant  the  thoughts  that  he  tried  to 
gather  were  scattered  again. 

*  'The  patrol!  the  patrol!"  hoarsely 
whispered  the  fellow  who  had  not  yet 
spoken.  There  was  a  sound  of  the  hoofs 
of  horses.  Down  the  street  from  the  sta- 
tion end  there  appeared  two  mounted 
men.  Without  a  second's  hesitation  the 
two  rascals  dropped  their  friend  Bauer 
with  a  thud  on  the  ground;  one  ran  at  his 
full  speed  across  the  street,  the  other 
bolted  no  less  quickly  up  the  Konigstrasse. 
Neither  could  afford  to  meet  the  consta- 
bles*, and  who  could  -say  what  story  this 
red-haired  gentleman  might  tell,  ay,  or 
what  powers  he  might  command  ? 

But,  in  truth,  Rudolf  gave  no  thought  to 
either  his  story  or  his  powers.  If  he  were 
caught,  the  best  he  could  hope  would  be 
to  lie  in  the  lockup  while  Rupert  played 
his  game  unmolested.  The  device  that  he 
had  employed  against  the  amazed  ruffians 
could  be  used  against  lawful  authority 
only  as  a  last  and  desperate  resort.  While 
he  could  run,  run  he  would.  In  an  instant 
he  also  took  to  his  heels,  following  the 
fellow  who  had  darted  up  the  Konig- 
strasse. But  before  he  had  gone  very  far, 
coming  to  a  narrow  turning,  he  shot  down 
it;  then  he  paused  for  a  moment  to  listen. 

The  patrol  had  seen  the  sudden  disper- 
sal of  the  group,  and,  struck  with  natural 
suspicion,  quickened  pace.  A  few  min- 
utes brought  them  where  Bauer  was. 
They  jumped  from  their  horses  and  ran  to 
him.  He  was  unconscious,  and  could,  of 
course,  give  them  no  account  of  how  he 
came  to  be  in  his  present  state.  The 
fronts  of  all  the  houses  were  dark,  the 
doors  shut;  there  was  nothing  to  connect 
the  man  stretched  on  the  ground  with 
either  No.  19  or  any  other  dwelling.  More- 
over, the  constables  were  not  sure  that  the 
sufferer  was  himself  a  meritorious  object, 
for  his  hand  still  held  a  long,  ugly  knife. 
They  were  perplexed:  they  were  but  two; 
there  was  a  wounded  man  to  look  after; 
there  were  three  men  to  pursue,  and  the 
three  had  fled  in  three  separate  direc- 
tions. They  looked  up  at  No.  19;  No. 
19  remained  dark,  quiet,  absolutely  in- 
different.   The  fugitives  were  out  of  sight. 


Rudolf  Rassendyll,  hearing  nothing,  had 
started  again  on  his  way.  But  a  minute 
later  he  heard  a  shrill  whistle.  The  patrol 
were  summoning  assistance;  the  man  must 
be  carried  to  the  station,  and  a  report 
made;  but  other  constables  might  be 
warned  of  what  had  happened,  and  de- 
spatched in  pursuit  of  the  culprits.  Ru- 
dolf heard  more  than  one  answering  whis- 
tle; he  broke  into  a  run,  looking  for  a 
turning  on  the  left  that  would  take  him 
back  into  the  direction  of  my  house,  but 
he  found  none.  The  narrow  street  twisted 
and  curved  in  the  bewildering  way  that 
characterizes  the  old  parts  of  the  town. 
Rudolf  had  spent  some  time  once  in  Strel- 
sau;  but  a  king  learns  little  of  back 
streets,  and  he  was  soon  fairly  puzzled  as 
to  his  whereabouts.  Day  was  dawning, 
and  he  began  to  meet  people  here  and 
there.  He  dared  run  no  more,  even  had 
his  breath  lasted  him;  winding  the  scarf 
about  his  face,  and  cramming  his  hat  over 
his  forehead  again,  he  fell  into  an  easy 
walk,  wondering  whether  he  could  venture 
to  ask  his  way,  relieved  to  find  no  signs  that 
he  was  being  pursued,  trying  to  persuade 
himself  that  Bauer,  though  not  dead,  was 
at  least  incapable  of  embarrassing  dis- 
closures; above  all,  conscious  of  the  dan- 
ger of  his  tell-tale  face,  and  of  the  neces- 
sity of  finding  some  shelter  before  the 
city  was  all  stirring  and  awake. 

At  this  moment  he  heard  horses'  hoofs 
behind  him.  He  was  now  at  the  end  of 
the  street,  where  it  opened  on  the  square 
in  which  the  barracks  stand.  He  knew 
his  bearings  now,  and,  had  he  not  been 
interrupted,  could  have  been  back  to  safe 
shelter  in  my  house  in  twenty  minutes. 
But,  looking  back,  he  saw  the  figure  of  a 
mounted  constable  just  coming  into  sight 
behind  him.  The  man  seemed  to  see  Ru- 
dolf, for  he  broke  into  a  quick  trot.  Mr. 
Rassendyll's  position  was  critical;  this 
fact  alone  accounts  for  the  dangerous  step 
into  which  he  allowed  himself  to  be 
forced.  Here  he  was,  a  man  unable  to 
give  account  of  himself,  of  remarkable 
appearance,  and  carrying  a  revolver,  of 
which  one  barrel  was  discharged.  And 
there  was  Bauer,  a  wounded  man,  shot  by 
somebody  with  a  revolver,  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  before.  Even  to  be  questioned  was 
dangerous;  to  be  detained  meant  ruin  to 
the  great  business  that  engaged  his  ener- 
gies. For  all  he  knew,  the  patrol  had  ac- 
tually sighted  him  as  he  ran.  His  fears 
were  not  vain;  for  the  constable  raised  his 
voice,  crying,  "  Hi,  sir — you  there — stop  a 
minute!  ' 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ANTHONY  HOPE. 


469 


Resistance  was  the  one  thing  worse 
than  to  yield.  Wit,  and  not  force,  must 
find  escape  this  time.  Rudolf  stopped, 
looking  round  again  with  a  surprised  air. 
Then  he  drew  himself  up  with  an  assump- 
tion of  dignity,  and  waited  for  the  consta- 
ble. If  that  last  card  must  be  played,  he 
would  win  the  hand  with  it. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  ?  "  he  asked 
coldly,  when  the  man  was  a  few  yards  from 
him;  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  withdrew  the 
scarf  almost  entirely  from  his  features, 
keeping  it  only  over  his  chin.  "  You  call 
very  peremptorily,' '  he  continued,  staring 
contemptuously.  "  What's  your  business 
with  me?" 

With  a  violent  start,  the  sergeant — for 
such  the  star  on  his  collar  and  the  lace  on 
his  cuff  proclaimed  him — leant  forward  in 
the  saddle  to  look  at  the  man  whom  he 
had  hailed.  Rudolf  said  nothing  and  did 
not  move.  The  man's  eyes  studied  his 
face  intently.  Then  he  sat  bolt  upright 
and  saluted,  his  face  dyed  to  a  deep  red 
in  his  sudden  confusion. 

"And  why  do  you  salute  me  now?" 
asked  Rudolf  in  a  mocking  tone.  "  First 
you  hunt  me,  then  you  salute  me.  By 
heaven,  I  don't  know  why  you  put  your- 
self out  at  all  about  me! " 

"  I— I—"  the  fellow  stuttered.  Then 
trying  a  fresh  start,  he  stammered,  "  Your 
Majesty,  I  didn't  know — I  didn't  sup- 
pose  " 

Rudolf  stepped  towards  him  with  a 
quick,  decisive  tread. 

"  And  why  do  you  call  me  '  Your  Maj- 
esty '  ?  "  he  asked,  still  mockingly. 

«•  It— it— isn't  it  Your  Majesty  ?  " 

Rudolf  was  close  by  him  now,  his  hand 
on  the  horse's  neck.  He  looked  up  into 
the  sergeant's  face  with  steady  eyes,  say- 
ing: 

"You  make  a  mistake,  my  friend.  I 
am  not  the  king." 

"You  are  not — ?"  stuttered  the  bewil- 
dered fellow. 

"  By  no  means.     And,  sergeant ?  " 

"  Your  Majesty?" 

"  Sir,  you  mean." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"A  zealous  officer,  sergeant,  can  make 
no  greater  mistake  than  to  take  for  the 
king  a  gentleman  who  is  not  the  king.  It 
might  injure  his  prospects,  since  the  king, 
not  being  here,  mightn't  wish  to  have  it 
supposed  that  he  was  here.  Do  you  fol- 
low me,  sergeant  ? " 

The  man  said  nothing,  but  stared  hard. 
After  a  moment  Rudolf  continued: 

"In  such  a  case/'  said  he,  "  a  discreet 


officer  would  not  trouble  the  gentleman 
any  more,  and  would  be  very  careful  not 
to  mention  that  he  had  made  such  a  silly 
mistake.  Indeed,  if  questioned,  he  would 
answer  without  hesitation  that  he  hadn't 
seen  anybody  even  like  the  king,  much  less 
the  king  himself.1' 

A  doubtful,  puzzled  little  smile  spread 
under  the  sergeant's  mustache. 

"  You  see,  the  king  is  not  even  in  Strel- 
sau,"  said  Rudolf. 

"Not  in  Strelsau,  sir?" 

"  Why,  no,  he's  at  Zenda." 

"Ah!     At  Zenda,  sir?" 

"  Certainly.  It  is  therefore  impossible 
— physically  impossible — that  he  should  be 
here." 

The  fellow  was  convinced  that  he  un- 
derstood now." 

"It's  certainly  impossible,  sir,"  said 
he,  smiling  more  broadly. 

"Absolutely.  And  therefore  impossi- 
ble also  that  you  should  have  seen  him." 
With  this  Rudolf  took  a  gold  piece  from 
his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  the  sergeant. 
The  fellow  took  it  with  something  like  a 
wink.  "  As  for  you,  you've  searched  here 
and  found  nobody,"  concluded  Mr.  Ras- 
sendyll.  "So  hadn't  you  better  at  once 
search  somewhere  else  ? " 

"Without  doubt,  sir,"  said  the  ser- 
geant, and  with  the  most  deferential  sa- 
lute, and  another  confidential  smile,  he 
turned  and  rode  back  by  the  way  he  had 
come.  No  doubt  he  wished  that  he  could 
meet  a  gentleman  who  was — not  the  king 
— every  morning  of  his  life.  It  hardly 
need  be  said  that  all  idea  of  connecting 
the  gentleman  with  the  crime  committed 
in  the  Kdnigstrasse  had  vanished  from  his 
mind.  Thus  Rudolf  won  freedom  from 
the  man's  interference,  but  at  a  dangerous 
cost — how  dangerous  he  did  not  know. 
It  was  indeed  most  impossible  that  the 
king  could  be  in  Strelsau. 

He  lost  no  time  now  in  turning  his 
steps  towards  his  refuge.  It  was  past  five 
o'clock,  day  came  quickly,  and  the  streets 
began  to  be  peopled  by  men  and  women 
on  their  way  to  open  stalls  or  to  buy  in  the 
market.  Rudolf  crossed  the  square  at  a 
rapid  walk,  for  he  was  afraid  of  the  sol- 
diers who  were  gathering  for  early  duty 
opposite  to  the  barracks.  Fortunately  he 
passed  by  them  unobserved,  and  gained  the 
comparative  seclusion  of  the  street  in 
which  my  house  stands,  without  encoun- 
tering any  further  difficulties.  In  truth,  he 
was  almost  in  safety;  but  bad  luck  was 
now  to  have  its  turn.  When  Mr.  Rassen- 
dyll  in  no  more  than  fifty  yards  from  my 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


470 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


door,  a  carriage  suddenly  drove  up  and 
stopped  a  few  paces  in  front  of  him.  The 
footman  sprang  down  and  opened  the  door. 
Two  ladies  got  out;  they  were  dressed  in 
evening  costume,  and  were  returning  from 
a  ball.  One  was  middle-aged,  the  other 
young  and  rather  pretty.  They  stood  for 
a  moment  on  the  pavement,  the  younger 
saying: 

"Isn't  it  pleasant,  mother?  I  wish  I 
could  always  be  up  at  five  o'clock." 

"  My  dear,  you  wouldn't  like  it  for 
long,"  answered  the  elder.  "It's  very 
nice  for  a  change,  but " 

She  stopped  abruptly.  Her  eye  had 
fallen  on  Rudolf  Rassendyll.  He  knew 
her:  she  was  no  less  a  person  than  the 
wife  of  Helsing  the  chancellor;  his  was 
the  house  at  which  the  carriage  had 
stopped.  The  trick  that  had  served  with 
the  sergeant  of  police  would  not  do  now. 
She  knew  the  king  too  well  to  believe  that 
she  could  be  mistaken  about  him;  she  was 
too  much  of  a  busybody  to  be  content  to 
pretend  that  she  was  mistaken. 

"Good  gracious!"  she  whispered 
loudly,  and,  catching  her  daughter's  arm, 
she  murmured,  "  Heavens,  my  dear,  it's 
the  king!  " 

Rudolf  was  caught.  Not  only  the 
ladies,  but  their  servants  were  looking  at 
him. 

Flight  was  impossible.  He  walked  by 
them.  The  ladies  curtseyed,  the  servants 
bowed  bareheaded.  Rudolf  touched  his 
hat  and  bowed  slightly  in  return.  He 
walked  straight  on  towards  my  house; 
they  were  watching  him,  and  he  knew  it. 
Most  heartily  did  he  curse  the  untimely 
hours  to  which  folks  keep  up  their  danc- 
ing, but  he  thought  that  a  visit  to  my 
house  would  afford  as  plausible  an  excuse 
for  his  presence  as  any  other.  So  he  went 
on,  surveyed  by  the  wondering  ladies,  and 
by  the  servants  who,  smothering  smiles, 
asked  one  another  what  brought  His  Maj- 
esty abroad  in  such  a  plight  (for  Rudolf's 
clothes  were  soaked  and  his  boots  muddy), 
at  such  an  hour — and  that  in  Strelsau, 
when  all  the  world  thought  he  was  at 
Zenda. 

Rudolf  reached  my  house.  Knowing 
that  he  was  watched,  he  had  abandoned 
all  intention  of  giving  the  signal  agreed 
on  between  my  wife  and  himself  and  of 
making  his  way  in  through  the  window. 
Such  a  sight  would  indeed  have  given 
the  excellent  Baroness  von  Helsing  matter 
for  gossip!  It  was  better  to  let  every  ser- 
vant in  my  house  see  his  open  entrance. 
But,  alas,  virtue  itself  sometimes  leads  to 


ruin.  My  dearest  Helga,  sleepless  and 
watchful  in  the  interest  of  her  mistress, 
was  even  now  behind  the  shutter,  listening 
with  all  her  ears  and  peering  through  the 
chinks.  No  sooner  did  Rudolf's  footsteps 
become  audible  than  she  cautiously  unfast- 
ened the  shutter,  opened  the  window,  put 
her  pretty  head  out,  and  called  softly: 

"All's  safe!     Come  in!" 

The  mischief  was  done  then,  for  the 
faces  of  Helsing's  wife  and  daughter,  ay, 
and  the  faces  of  Helsing's  servants,  were 
intent  on  this  most  strange  spectacle. 
Rudolf,  turning  his  head  over  his  shoulder, 
saw  them;  a  moment  later  poor  Helga 
saw  them  also.  Innocent  and  untrained 
in  controlling  her  feelings,  she  gave  a 
shrill  little  cry  of  dismay,  and  hastily 
drew  back.  Rudolf  looked  round  again. 
The  ladies  had  retreated  to  the  cover  of 
the  porch,  but  he  still  saw  their  eager 
faces  peering  from  between  the  pillars  that 
supported  it. 

"I  may  as  well  go  in  now,"  said  Ru- 
dolf, and  in  he  sprang.  There  was  a 
merry  smile  on  his  face  as  he  ran  forward 
to  meet  Helga,  who  leant  against  the 
table,  pale  and  agitated. 

"  They  saw  you  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"Undoubtedly,"  said  he.  Then  his 
sense  of  amusement  conquered  everything 
else,  and  he  sat  down  in  a  chair,  laugh- 
ing. 

"I'd  give  my  life,"  said  he,  "to  hear 
the  story  that  the  chancellor  will  be 
waked  up  to  hear  in  a  minute  or  two  from 
now  ! " 

But  a  moment's  thought  made  him  grave 
again.  For  whether  he  were  the  king  or 
Rudolf  Rassendyll,  he  knew  that  my  wife's 
name  was  in  equal  peril.  Knowing  this, 
he  stood  at  nothing  to  serve  her.  He 
turned  to  her  and  spoke  quickly. 

"  You  must  rouse  one  of  the  servants  at 
once.  Send  him  round  to  the  chancellor's 
and  tell  the  chancellor  to  come  here  di- 
rectly. No,  write  a  note.  Say  the  king 
has  come  by  appointment  to  see  Fritz  on 
some  private  business,  but  that  Fritz  has 
not  kept  the  appointment,  and  that  the 
king  must  now  see  the  chancellor  at  once. 
Say  there's  not  a  moment  to  lose." 

She  was  looking  at  him  with  wondering 
eyes. 

"Don't  you  see,"  he  said,  "if  I  can 
impose  on  Helsing,  I  may  stop  those  wo- 
men's tongues  ?  If  nothing's  done,  how 
long  do  you  suppose  it'll  be  before  all 
Strelsau  knows  that  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim's 
wife  let  the  king  in  at  the  window  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning  ?  " 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ANTHONY  HOPE. 


47i 


••  I  don't  understand,"  murmured  poor 
Helga  in  bewilderment. 

••  No,  my  dear  lady,  but  for  heaven's 
sake  do  what  I  ask  of  you.  It's  the  only 
chance  now." 

"  I'll  do  it,"  she  said,  and  sat  down  to 
write. 

Thus  it  was  that,  hard  on  the  marvel- 
ous tidings  which,  as  I  conjecture,  the 
Baroness  von  Helsing  poured  into  her  hus- 
band's drowsy  ears,  came  an  imperative 
summons  that  the  chancellor  should  wait 
on  the  king  at  the  house  of  Fritz  von  Tar- 
lenheim. 

Truly  we  had  tempted  fate  too  far  by 
bringing  Rudolf  Rassendyll  again  to 
Strelsau. 

CHAPTER   XII. 

BEFORE    THEM    ALL! 

Great  as  was  the  risk  and  ifnmense  as 
were  the  difficulties  created  by  the  course 
which  Mr.  Rassendyll  adopted,  I  cannot 
doubt  that  he  acted  for  the  best  in  the 
light  of  the  information  which  he  pos- 
sessed. His  plan  was  to  disclose  himself 
in  the  character  of  the  king  to  Helsing, 
to  bind  him  to  secrecy,  and  make  him 
impose  the  same  obligation  on  his  wife, 
daughter,  and  servants.  The  chancellor 
was  to  be  quieted  with  the  excuse  of 
urgent  business,  and  conciliated  by  a  prom- 
ise that  he  should  know  its  nature  in  the 
course  of  a. few  hours;  meanwhile  an  ap- 
peal to  his  loyalty  must  suffice  to  insure 
obedience.  If  all  went  well  in  the  day 
that  had  now  dawned,  by  the  evening 
of  it  the  letter  would  be  destroyed,  the 
queen's  peril  past,  and  Rudolf  once  more 
far  away  from  Strelsau.  Then  enough  of 
the  truth — no  more — must  be  disclosed. 
Helsing  would  be  told  the  story  of  Ru- 
dolf Rassendyll  and  persuaded  to  hold  his 
tongue  about  the  harum-scarum  English- 
man (we  are  ready  to  believe  much  of 
an  Englishman)  having  been  audacious 
enough  again  to  play  the  king  in  Strelsau. 
The  old  chancellor  was  a  very  good  fellow, 
and  I  do  not  think  that  Rudolf  did  wrong 
in  relying  upon  him.  Where  he  miscalcu- 
lated was,  of  course,  just  where  he  was 
ignorant.  The  whole  of  what  the  queen's 
friends,  ay,  and  the  queen  herself,  did  in 
Strelsau,  became  useless  and  mischievous 
by  reason  of  the  king's  death;  their  ac- 
tion must  have  been  utterly  different,  had 
they  been  aware  of  that  catastrophe;  but 
their  wisdom  must  be  judged  only  accord- 
ing to  their  knowledge. 


In  the  first  place,  the  chancellor  himself 
showed  much  good  sense.  Even  before 
he  obeyed  the  king's  summons  he  sent  for 
the  two  servants  and  charged  them,  on 
pain  of  instant  dismissal  and  worse  things 
to  follow,  to  say  nothing  of  what  they  had 
seen.  His  commands  to  his  wife  and 
daughter  were  more  polite,  doubtless,  but 
no  less  peremptory.  He  may  well  have 
supposed  that  the  king's  business  was  pri- 
vate as  well  as  important  when  it  led  His 
Majesty  to  be  roaming  the  streets  of  Strel- 
sau at  a  moment  when  he  was  supposed 
to  be  at  the  Castle  of  Zenda,  and  to  enter 
a  friend's  house  by  the  window  at  such 
untimely  hours.  The  mere  facts  were  elo- 
quent of  secrecy.  Moreover,  the  king  had 
shaved  his  beard — the  ladies  were  sure  of 
it — and  this,  again,  though  it  might  be 
merely  an  accidental  coincidence,  was  also 
capable  of  signifying  a  very  urgent  desire 
to  be  unknown.  So  the  chancellor,  having 
given  his  orders,  and  being  himself  aflame 
with  the  liveliest  curiosity,  lost  no  time  in 
obeying  the  king's  commands,  and  arrived 
at  my  house  before  six  o'clock. 

When  the  visitor  was  announced  Rudolf 
was  upstairs,  having  a  bath  and  some 
breakfast.  Helga  had  learnt  her  lesson 
well  enough  to  entertain  the  visitor  until 
Rudolf  appeared.  She  was  full  of  apol- 
ogies for  my  absence,  protesting  that  she 
could  in  no  way  explain  it;  neither  could 
she  so  much  as  conjecture  what  was  the 
king's  business  with  her  husband.  She 
played  the  dutiful  wife  whose  virtue  was 
obedience,  whose  greatest  sin  would  be  an 
indiscreet  prying  into  what  it  was  not  her 
part  to  know. 

"I  know  no  more,"  she  said,  "than 
that  Fritz  wrote  to  me  to  expect  the  king 
and  him  at  about  five  o'clock,  and  to  be 
ready  to  let  them  in  by  the  window,  as  the 
king  did  not  wish  the  servants  to  be  aware 
of  his  presence." 

The  king  came  and  greeted  Helsing 
most  graciously.  The  tragedy  and  com- 
edy of  these  busy  days  were  strangely 
mingled;  even  now  I  can  hardly  help  smil- 
ing when  I  picture  Rudolf,  with  grave  lips, 
but  that  distant  twinkle  in  his  eye  (I  swear 
he  enjoyed  the  sport),  sitting  down  by  the 
old  chancellor  in  the  darkest  corner  of  the 
room,  covering  him  with  flattery,  hinting 
at  most  strange  things,  deploring  a  secret 
obstacle  to  immediate  confidence,  promis- 
ing that  to-morrow,  at  latest,  he  would 
seek  the  advice  of  the  wisest  and  most 
tried  of  his  counselors,  appealing  to  the 
chancellor's  loyalty  to  trust  him  till  then. 
Helsing,  blinking  through  his  spectacles, 

Digitized  by  VjOOQlC 


472 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


followed  with  devout  attention  the  long 
narrative  that  told  nothing,  and  the  urgent 
exhortation  that  masked  a  trick.  His 
accents  were  almost  broken  with  emotion 
as  he  put  himself  absolutely  at  the  king's 
disposal,  and  declared  that  he  could  an- 
swer for  the  discretion  of  his  family  and 
household  as  completely  as  for  his  own. 

"Then  you're  a  very  lucky  man,  my 
dear  chancellor,"  said  Rudolf,  with  a  sigh 
which  seemed  to  hint  that  the  king  in  his 
palace  was  not  so  fortunate.  Helsing 
was  immensely  pleased.  He  was  all  agog 
to  go  and  tell  his  wife  how  entirely  the 
king  trusted  to  her  honor  and  silence. 

There  was  nothing  that  Rudolf  more 
desired  than  to  be  relieved  of  the  excellent 
old  fellow's  presence;  but,  well  aware  of 
the  supreme  importance  of  keeping  him 
in  a  good  temper,  he  would  not  hear  of 
his  departure  for  a  few  minutes. 

"At  any  rate,  the  ladies  won't  talk  till 
after  breakfast,  and  since  they  got  home 
only  at  five  o'clock  they  won't  breakfast 
yet  a  while,"  said  he. 

So  he  made  Helsing  sit  down,  and  talked 
to  him.  Rudolf  had  not  failed  to  notice 
that  the  Count  of  Luzau-Rischenheim  had 
been  a  little  surprised  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice;  in  this  conversation  he  studiously 
kept  his  tones  low,  affecting  a  certain 
weakness  and  huskiness  such  as  he  had 
detected  in  the  king's  utterances,  as  he 
listened  behind  the  curtain  in  Sapt's  room 
at  the  castle.  The  part  was  played  as 
completely  and  triumphantly  as  in  the  old 
days  when  he  ran  the  gauntlet  of  every 
eye  in  Strelsau.  Yet  if  he  had  not  taken 
such  pains  to  conciliate  old  Helsing,  but 
had  let  him  depart,  he  might  not  have 
found  himself  driven  to  a  greater  and  even 
more  hazardous  deception. 

They  were  conversing  together  alone. 
My  wife  had  been  prevailed  on  by  Rudolf 
to  lie  down  in  her  room  for  an  hour. 
Sorely  needing  rest,  she  had  obeyed  him, 
having  first  given  strict  orders  that  no 
member  of  the  household  should  enter  the 
room  where  the  two  were  except  on  an  ex- 
press summons.  Fearing  suspicion,  she 
and  Rudolf  had  agreed  that  it  was  better 
to  rely  on  these  injunctions  than  to  lock 
the  door  again  as  they  had  the  night  be- 
fore. 

But  while  these  things  passed  at  my 
house,  the  queen  and  Bernenstein  were  on 
their  way  to  Strelsau.  Perhaps,  had  Sapt 
been  at  Zenda,  his  powerful  influence 
might  have  availed  to  check  the  impul- 
sive expedition;  Bernenstein  had  no  such 
authority,    and     could     only     obey    the 


queen's  peremptory  orders  and  pathetic 
prayers.  Ever  since  Rudolf  Rassendyll 
left  her,  three  years  before,  she  had  lived 
in  stern  self-repression,  never  her  true  self, 
never  for  a  moment  able  to  be  or  to  do 
what  every  hour  her  heart  urged  on  her. 
How  are  these  things  done  ?  I  doubt  if  a 
man  lives  who  could  do  them;  but  women 
live  who  do  them.  Now  his  sudden  com- 
ing, and  the  train  of  stirring  events  that 
accompanied  it,  his  danger  and  hers,  his 
words  and  her  enjoyment  of  his  presence, 
had  all  worked  together  to  shatter  her 
self-control;  and  the  strange  dream, 
heightening  the  emotion  which  was  its 
own  cause,  left  her  with  no  conscious  de- 
sire save  to  be  near  Mr.  Rassendyll,  and 
scarcely  with  a  fear  except  for  his  safety. 
As  they  journeyed  her  talk  was  all  of  his 
peril,  never  of  the  disaster  which  threat- 
ened herself,  and  which  we  were  all  striv- 
ing with  might  and  main  to  avert  from 
her  head.  She  traveled  alone  with  Ber- 
nenstein, getting  rid  of  the  lady  who  at- 
tended her  by  some  careless  pretext,  and 
she  urged  on  him  continually  to  bring  her 
as  speedily  as  might  be  to  Mr.  Rassendyll. 
I  cannot  find  much  blame  for  her.  Rudolf 
stood  for  all  the  joy  in  her  life,  and  Ru- 
dolf had  gone  to  fight  with  the  Count  of 
Hentzau.  What  wonder  that  she  saw  him, 
as  it  were,  dead  ?  Yet  still  she  would 
have  it  that,  in  his  seeming  death,  all  men 
hailed  him  for  their  king.  Well,  it  was 
her  love  that  crowned  him. 

As  they  reached  the  city,  she  grew  more 
composed,  being  persuaded  by  Bernen- 
stein that  nothing  in  her  bearing  must 
rouse  suspicion.  Yet  she  was  none  the 
less  resolved  to  seek  Mr.  Rassendyll  at 
once.  In  truth,  she  feared  even  then  to 
find  him  dead,  so  strong  was  the  hold  of 
her  dream  on  her;  until  she  knew  that  he 
was  alive  she  could  not  rest.  Bernenstein, 
fearful  that  the  strain  would  kill  her,  or 
rob  her  of  reason,  promised  everything; 
and  declared,  with  a  confidence  which  he 
did  not  feel,  that  beyond  doubt  Mr.  Ras 
sendyll  was  alive  and  well. 

"  But  where — where  ?  "  she  cried  eager- 
ly, with  clasped  hands. 

"  We're  most  likely,  madam,  to  find  him 
at  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim's,"  answered  the 
lieutenant.  "  He  would  wait  there  till  the 
time  came  to  attack  Rupert,  or,  if  the 
thing  is  over,  he  will  have  returned  there. " 

"  Then  let  us  drive  there  at  once,"  she 
urged. 

Bernenstein,  however,  persuaded  her  to 
go  to  the  palace  first  and  let  it  be  known 
there  that  she  was  going  to  pay  a  visit  to 

Digitized  by  VjOOQlC 


ANTHONY  HOPE. 


473 


my  wife.  She  arrived  at  the  palace  at 
eight  o'clock,  took  a  cup  of  chocolate, 
and  then  ordered  her  carriage.  Bernen- 
stein  alone  accompanied  her  when  she  set 
out  for  my  house  about  nine.  He  was, 
by  now,  hardly  less  agitated  than  the  queen 
herself. 

In  her  entire  preoccupation  with  Mr. 
Rassendyll,  she  gave  little  thought  to  what 
might  have  happened  at  the  hunting- 
lodge;  but  Bernenstein  drew  gloomy  au- 
guries from  the  failure  of  Sapt  and  myself 
to  return  at  the  proper  time.  Either  evil 
had  befatlen  us,  or  the  letter  had  reached 
the  king  before  we  arrived  at  the  lodge; 
the  probabilities  seemed  to  him  to  be  con- 
fined to  these  alternatives.  Yet  when  he 
spoke  in  this  strain  to  the  queen,  he  could 
get  from  her  nothing  except,  "  If  we  can 
find  Mr.  Rassendyll,  he  will  tell  us  what 
to  do." 

Thus,  then,  a  little  after  nine  in  the 
morning  the  queen's  carriage  drove  up  to 
my  door.  The  ladies  of  the  chancellor's 
family  had  enjoyed  a  very  short  night's 
rest,  for  their  heads  came  bobbing  out  of 
window  the  moment  the  wheels  were  heard ; 
many  people  were  about  now,  and  the 
crown  on  the  panels  attracted  the  usual 
small  crowd  of  loiterers.  Bernenstein 
sprang  out  and  gave  his  hand  to  the 
queen.  With  a  hasty  slight  bow  to  the 
onlookers,  she  hastened  up  the  two  or  three 
steps  of  the  porch,  and  with  her  own  hand 
rang  the  bell.  Inside,  the  carriage  had 
just  been  observed.  My  wife's  waiting- 
maid  ran  hastily  to  her  mistress;  Helga 
was  lying  on  her  bed ;  she  rose  at  once, 
and  after  a  few  moments  of  necessary 
preparations  (or  such  preparations  as 
seem  to  ladies  necessary,  however  great 
the  need  of  haste  may  be)  hurried  down- 
stairs to  receive  Her  Majesty — and  to 
warn  Her  Majesty.  She  was  too  late. 
The  door  was  already  open.  The  butler 
and  the  footman  both  had  run  to  it,  and 
thrown  it  open  for  the  queen.  As  Helga 
reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  Her  Majesty 
was  just  entering  the  room  where  Rudolf 
was,  the  servants  attending  her,  and  Ber- 
nenstein standing  behind,  his  helmet  in  his 
hand. 

Rudolf  and  the  chancellor  had  been 
continuing  their  conversation.  To  avoid 
the  observations  of  passers-by  (for  the  in- 
terior of  the  room  is  easy  to  see  from  the 
street),  the  blind  had  been  drawn  down, 
and  the  room  was  in  deep  shadow.  They 
had  heard  the  wheels,  but  neither  of  them 
dreamt  that  the  visitor  could  be  the  queen 
It   was  an  utter  surprise  to  them  when, 


without  their  orders,  the  door  was  sud- 
denly flung  open.  The  chancellor,  slow 
of  movement,  and  not,  if  I  may  say  it, 
over-quick  of  brain,  sat  in  his  corner  for 
half  a  minute  or  more  before  he  rose  to 
his  feet.  On  the  other  hand,  Rudolf  Ras- 
sendyll was  the  best  part  of  the  way 
across  the  room  in  an  instant.  Helga 
was  at  the  door  now,  and  she  thrust  her 
head  round  young  Bernenstein's  broad 
shoulder.  Thus  she  saw  what  happened. 
The  queen,  forgetting  the  servants,  and 
not  observing  Helsing — seeming  indeed  to 
stay  for  nothing,  and  to  think  of  nothing, 
but  to  have  her  thoughts  and  heart  filled 
with  the  sight  of  the  man  she  loved  and 
the  knowledge  of  his  safety — met  him  as 
he  ran  towards  her,  and,  before  Helga, 
or  Bernenstein,  or  Rudolf  himself,  could 
stay  her  or  conceive  what  she  was  about 
to  do,  caught  both  his  hands  in  hers  with 
an  intense  grasp,  crying: 

"  Rudolf,  you're  safe!  Thank  God,  oh, 
thank  God! "  and  she  carried  his  hands  to 
her  lips  and  kissed  them  passionately. 

A  moment  of  absolute  silence  followed, 
dictated  in  the  servants  by  decorum,  in  the 
chancellor  by  consideration,  in  Helga  and 
Bernenstein  by  utter  consternation.  Ru- 
dolf himself  also  was  silent,  but  whether 
from  bewilderment  or  an  emotion  answer- 
ing to  hers,  I  know  not.  Either  it  might 
well  be.  The  stillness  struck  her.  She 
looked  up  in  his  eyes;  she  looked  round 
the  room  and  saw  Helsing,  now  bowing 
profoundly  from  the  corner;  she  turned 
her  head  with  a  sudden  frightened  jerk, 
and  glanced  at  my  motionless  deferential 
servants.  Then  it  came  upon  her  what 
she  had  done.  She  gave  a  quick  gasp  for 
breath,  and  her  face,  always  pale,  went 
white  as  marble.  Her  features  set  in  a 
strange  stiffness,  and  suddenly  she  reeled 
where  she  stood,  and  fell  forward.  Only 
Rudolf's  hand  bore  her  up.  Thus  for  a 
moment,  too  short  to  reckon,  they  stood. 
Then  he,  a  smile  of  great  love  and  pity 
coming  on  his  lips,  drew  her  to  him,  and 
passing  his  arm  about  her  waist,  thus  sup- 
ported her.  Then,  smiling  still,  he  looked 
down  on  her,  and  said  in  a  low  tone,  yet 
distinct  enough  for  all  to  hear: 

"All  is  well,  dearest." 

My  wife  gripped  Bernenstein's  arm,  and 
he  turned  to  find  her  pale-faced  too,  with 
quivering  lips  and  shining  eyes.  But  the 
eyes  had  a  message,  and  an  urgent  one,  for 
him.  He  read  it;  he  knew  that  it  bade 
him  second  what  Rudolf  Rassendyll  had 
done.  He  came  forward  and  approached 
Rudolf;  then  he  fell  on  one  knee,  and 
Digitized  by  VjOOQlC 


474 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


kissed  Rudolf's  left  hand  that  was  ex- 
tended to  him. 

"I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,  Lieutenant 
von  Bernenstein,"  said  Rudolf  Rassendyll. 

For  a  moment  the  thing  was  done,  ruin 
averted,  and  safety  secured.  Every- 
thing had  been  at  stake;  that  there  was 
such  a  man  as  Rudolf  Rassendyll  might 
have  been  disclosed;  that  he  had  once 
filled  the  king's  throne  was  a  high  secret 
which  they  were  prepared  to  trust  to  Hel- 
sing  under  stress  of  necessity;  but  there 
remained  something  which  must  be  hidden 
at  all  costs,  and  which  the  queen's  passion- 
ate exclamation  had  threatened  to  ex- 
pose. There  was  a  Rudolf  Rassendyll, 
and  he  had  been  king;  but,  more  than  all 
this,  the  queen  loved  him  and  he  the 
queen.  That  could  be  told  to  none,  not 
even  to  Helsing;  for  Helsing,  though  he 
would  not  gossip  to  the  town,  would  yet 
hold  himself  bound  to  carry  the  matter  to 
the  king.  So  Rudolf  chose  to  take  any 
future  difficulties  rather  than  that  present 
and  certain  disaster.  Sooner  than  entail 
it  on  her  he  loved,  he  claimed  for  himself 
the  place  of  her  husband  and  the  name  of 
king.  And  she,  clutching  at  the  only 
chance  that  her  act  left,  was  content  to 
have  it  so.  It  may  be  that  for  an  instant 
her  weary,  tortured  brain  found  sweet  rest 
in  the  dim  dream  that  so  it  was,  for  she 
let  her  head  lie  there  on  his  breast  and  her 
eyes  closed,  her  face  looking  very  peace- 
ful, and  a  soft  little  sigh  escaping  in  pleas- 
ure from  her  lips. 

But  every  moment  bore  its  peril  and 
exacted  its  effort.  Rudolf  led  the  queen 
to  a  couch,  and  then  briefly  charged  the 
servants  not  to  speak  of  his  presence  for 
a  few  hours.  As  they  had  no  doubt  per- 
ceived, said  he,  from  the  queen's  agita- 
tion, important  business  was  on  foot;  it 
demanded  his  presence  in  Strelsau,  but  re- 
quired also  that  his  presence  should  not 
be  known.  A  short  time  would  free  them 
from  the  obligation  which  he  now  asked 
of  their  loyalty.  When  they  had  with- 
drawn, bowing  obedience,  he  turned  to 
Helsing,  pressed  his  hand  warmly,  reiter- 
ated his  request  for  silence,  and  said  that 
he  would  summon  the  chancellor  to  his 
presence  again  later  in  the  day,  either 
where  he  was  or  at  the  palace.  Then  he 
bade  all  withdraw  and  leave  him  alone  for 
a  little  with  the  queen.  He  was  obeyed; 
but  Helsing  had  hardly  left  the  house 
when  Rudolf  called  Bernenstein  back,  and 
with  him  my  wife.  Helga  hastened  to 
the  queen,  who  was  still  sorely  agitated; 
Rudolf  drew  Bernenstein   aside,  and  ex- 


changed with  him  all  their  news.  Mr. 
Rassendyll  was  much  disturbed  at  finding 
that  no  tidings  had  come  from  Colonel 
Sapt  and  myself,  but  his  apprehension  was 
greatly  increased  on  learning  the  unto- 
ward accident  by  which  the  king  himself 
had  been  at  the  lodge  the  night  before. 
Indeed,  he  was  utterly  in  the  dark;  where 
the  king  was,  where  Rupert,  where  we 
were,  he  did  not  know.  And  he  was  here 
in  Strelsau,  known  as  the  king  to  half  a 
dozen  people  or  more,  protected  only  by 
their  promises,  liable  at  any  moment  to  be 
exposed  by  the  coming  of  the  king  him- 
self, or  even  by  a  message  from  him. 

Yet,  in  face  of  all  perplexities,  per- 
haps even  the  more  because  of  the  dark- 
ness in  which  he  was  enveloped,  Rudolf 
held  firm  to  his  purpose.  There  were  two 
things  that  seemed  plain.  If  Rupert  had 
escaped  the  trap  and  was  still  alive  with 
the  letter  on  him,  Rupert  must  be  found ; 
here  was  the  first  task.  That  accom- 
plished, there  remained  for  Rudolf  himself 
nothing  save  to  disappear  as  quietly  and 
secretly  as  he  had  come,  trusting  that  his 
presence  could  be  concealed  from  the  man 
whose  name  he  had  usurped.  Nay,  if 
need  were,  the  king  must  be  told  that 
Rudolf  Rassendyll  had  played  a  trick  on 
the  chancellor,  and,  having  enjoyed  his 
pleasure,  was  gone  again.  Everything 
could,  in  the  last  resort,  be  told,  save  that 
which  touched  the  queen's  honor. 

At  this  moment  the  message  which  I 
despatched  from  the  station  at  Hofbau 
reached  my  house.  There  was  a  knock 
at  the  door.  Bernenstein  opened  it  and 
took  the  telegram,  which  was  addressed 
to  my  wife.  I  had  written  all  that  I 
dared  to  trust  to  such  a  means  of  commu- 
nication, and  here  it  is: 

*•  I  am  coming  to  Strelsau.  The  king  will  not 
leave  the  lodge  to-day.  The  count  came,  but  left 
before  we  arrived.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  has 
gone  to  Strelsau.     He  gave  no  news  to  the  king." 

"Then  they  didn't  get  him!"  cried 
Bernenstein  in  deep  disappointment. 

"No,  but  'he  gave  no  news  to  the 
king,'"  said  Rudolf  triumphantly. 

They  were  all  standing  now  round  the 
queen,  who  sat  on  the  couch.  She  seemed 
very  faint  and  weary,  but  at  peace.  It 
was  enough  for  her  that  Rudolf  fought 
and  planned  for  her. 

"And  see  this,"  Rudolf  went  on. 
•"The  king  will  not  leave  the  lodge  to- 
day.* Thank  God,  then,  we  have  to- 
day!" 

"  Yes,  but  where's  Rupert^" 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


OTTENHAUSEN'S  COUP. 


475 


"We  shall  know  in  an  hour,  if  he's  in 
Strelsau,"  and  Mr.  Rassendyll  looked  as 
though  it  would  please  him  well  to  find 
Rupert  in  Strelsau.  "  Yes,  I  must  seek 
him.  I  shall  stand  at  nothing  to  find  him. 
If  I  can  only  get  to  him  as  the  king,  then 
I'll  be  the  king.     We  have  to-day!  " 

My  message  put  them  in  heart  again, 
although  it  left  so  much  still  unexplained. 
Rudolf  turned  to  the  queen. 

"Courage,   my  queen,"   said  he.     "A 


few  hours  now  will  see  an  end  of  all  our 
dangers." 

"  And  then  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Then  you'll  be  safe  and  at  rest,"  said 
he,  bending  over  her  and  speaking  softly. 
"  And  I  shall  be  proud  in  the  knowledge 
of  having  saved  you." 

"  And  you  ?" 

"  I  must  go,"  Helga  heard  him  whisper 
as  he  bent  lower  still,  and  she  and  Ber- 
nenstein  moved  away. 


{To  be  continued.) 


i 

HI 


tfEDT'B  Y.THOMAS    TOCAMT 


OTTENHAUSEN  was  the  new  chem- 
ist. His  hair  was  long,  and  his  col- 
lars were  of  the  turned-down  variety.  He 
read  Goethe,  and  played  the  violin.  He 
had  seen  life  in  German  universities,  on 
the  plains  of  Texas,  and  at  many  other 
places. 

The  evening  that  he  arrived  at  the  fur- 
nace to  take  his  position  as  official  ana- 
lyzer of  ores  and  lime- 
stone, he  found  the  house- 
hold of  the  superintendent 
in  a  high  state  of  excite- 
ment. Mrs.  James  Hunt, 
the  wife  of  the  broad- 
shouldered  young  man 
who  conducted  the  affairs 
of  Laird's  Furnace  for  the 
Mingo  Coal  and  Iron  Com- 
pany, said,  "  You  have 
just  come  in  time  for  the 
house  party  to-morrow 
evening.  You  must  not 
forget  that  to-morrow 
afternoon  you  are  to  ride 
up  to  the  charcoal-burner's 
place  on  the  hill.  Three 
young  women  friends  of 
mine  from  Columbus  are 
going  to  be  there  to  spend 
the  day.  I  told  them 
about   you,  and   they   are 


just  dying  to  meet  you.     Your  fame  has 
traveled  before  you." 

Ottenhausen  said  that  he  would  be 
charmed.  He  bestowed  his  belongings  in 
the  little  room  back  of  the  company's 
office  which  was  to  be  his  temporary 
home.  When  the  festivities  were  over, 
he  was  to  take  up  his  abode  in  "  Eagle's 
Nest,"  as  the  house  was  called  where 
dwelt  the  superintendent 
and  his  wife. 

Laird's  Furnace  was  not 
an  inviting  place.  Eagle's 
Nest,  the  colonial  mansion 
on  the  heights,  with  its 
gleaming  white  pillars  and 
its  setting  of  green  lawn, 
was  the  only  redeeming 
feature.  Down  in  the  val- 
ley was  the  great  furnace, 
from  which  issued  a  cloud 
of  smoke  by  day  and  a 
pillar  of  fire  by  night. 
Grouped  around  it  were 
the  lean-to  shanties  and 
the  story-and-a-half  cot- 
tages where  dwelt  the  fur- 
nace hands  and  the  miners 
of  iron  ore. 

"  Not  a  garden  of  the 
Lord,"  remarked  Otten- 
hausen, as  he  stood  at  the 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


JIM  JOHNSON,  OP  THE   RED-OX  GROUP 
OP  ANARCHISTS." 


476 


OTTENHAUSEN'S  COUP. 


"HE   READ   GOETHE,   AND   PLAYED  THE  VIOLIN.'* 

door  of  his  laboratory  the  afternoon  after 
his  arrival;  "  but  it  might  be  worse." 

"  Am  you  the  new  chemist,  boss  ?  "  came 
a  voice  close  to  the  young  German's 
elbow. 

Ottenhausen  turned,  and  saw  a  portly 
negro  who  held  a  bridle  to  the  end  of 
which  was  attached  as  sorry  a  looking 
mule  as  he  had  ever  seen. 

44  Missus  Hunt  dun  sent  this  muel  foh 
you  to  ride  to  the  charcoal-burner's 
shanty,  sah,"  said  the  negro.  "  He  am 
already  saddled." 

"But  I  don't  know  the  road,"  inter- 
posed Ottenhausen. 

"  Doan't  you  fret  yerself,  boss,"  re- 
plied the  ebon  groom.  "  Jackson  he  know 
the  way  in  the  dark." 

Ottenhausen  left  the  mule  tied  to  the 
hitching-post,  and  went  to  his  quarters  in 
the  office  building.  He  dug  up  from  the 
bottom  of  his  steamer  trunk  riding- 
breeches,  a  coat,  and  a  pair  of  remarkably 
varnished  boots.v  He  had  served  in  the 
German  cavalry,  and  the  boots  were  a 
relic  of  days  which  were  gone.  He  was  a 
commanding  figure  as  he  walked  out  of 
the  ohice  that  September  afternoon.     The 


men  in  the  cast-house,  who  with 
great  sledges  were  breaking  up 
the  barely  cooled  pig  iron, 
stopped  to  look  at  the  tall  figure 
in  unusual  garb. 

"  One  of  them  dudes  from  Co- 
lumbus, I  suppose,"  growled 
Cornwall  Jim,  as  he  swung  a 
warm  bar  upon  the  little  tram- 
car.  "We  poor  devils  have  to 
grub  in  the  dirt  so  that  the  super 
and  his  fine  lady  can  live  on  the 
fat  of  the  land  and  bid  a  lot  of 
city  folk  to  come  down  here  and 
enjoy  themselves." 

"Well,"  muttered  Jim  John- 
son, of  the  Red-Ox  group  of  an- 
archists, "  this  sort  of  thing  can't 
go  on  forever.  Men,  the  only 
way  to  bring  them  rich  to  terms 
is  to  destroy  property.  Under- 
stand ? "  Johnson  had  only  been 
at  the  furnace  two  weeks.  He 
had  already  become  something  of 
a  leader.  He  had  hardly  been 
employed  in  the  cast-house  three 
days  before  there  came  rumors  of 
a  strike. 

Ottenhausen    mounted    the 
sorry-looking  mule,  pointed  him 
north  by  east,  and  gave  him  free 
rein.      The   animal   trotted    past 
the  furnace,  and  of  his  own  ac- 
cord  took   to   a    winding    wagon    track. 
Hatf  an  hour  later  Ottenhausen  came  in 
sight  of  the  covered  mounds  of  smoulder- 
ing wood  and   the   hut  of   the  charcoal- 
burner.      Before   the   door  of  the   house 
the  road  forked.     The  mule  trotted  along 
peaceably  until  he  got  to  the  parting  of 
the  ways.     Ottenhausen  gave  the  bridle  a 
quick   jerk    to    the   left.      He  caught   a 
glimpse,  as  he  did  so,  of  Mrs.   Hunt  and 
three  young  women  standing  before  the 
door  of  the  weather-beaten  hut. 

Jackson,  the  most  stubborn  of  all  mules, 
had  always  been  ridden  by  but  one  road, 
and  that  one  was  to  the  right.  The  mo- 
ment he  felt  the  twitch  upon  the  bridle 
he  turned  squarely  around,  and  with  a 
quick  movement  threw  his  rider  over  his 
head.  Ottenhausen  struck  upon  the  arm 
which  he  had  raised  to  acknowledge  the 
bow  of  Mrs.  Hunt,  and  rolled  over  and 
over  upon  the  ground.  He  saw  the  hut, 
the  sky,  and  the  trees  in  a  confused  whirl. 
He  sat  up,  and  looked  in  a  dazed  way  to- 
wards the  shanty.  Upon  his  face  lingered 
a  remnant  of  a  smile.  He  struggled  to 
his  feet,  and  shook  himself.  A  cloud  of 
dust  rose  from  his  clothing.     He  saw  four 

Digitized  by  VjOOQlC 


OTTENHAUSEN'S  COUP.  477 

women,  with  their  faces  buried 

in  their  hands,   sitting  on  the  y 

bench    in    front   of    the    little 

building.     They  were  shrieking  i 

with    laughter.      A    girl    with 

dark  hair  and  blue  eyes  rose  to 

her  feet,  and  advanced  towards 

Ottenhausen. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  hurt," 
she  said. 

Then  she  abruptly  turned 
away,  grasped  a  sapling,  and 
laughed  until  the  echo  could 
be  heard  down  the  glen. 
Ottenhausen  deigned  no  reply. 
He  gathered  up  his  battered 
hat,  through  which  Jackson 
had  put  one  of  his  hoofs,  and  ' 

strode  angrily  down  the  path 
by  which  he  had  come.  Nearly 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  ahead  he 
saw  that  disreputable  mule  can- 
tering slowly  along  and  stop- 
ping occasionally  to  crop  the 
herbage  by  the  way.  With 
flushed  face,  battered  headgear, 
and  clothing  all  awry,  the  new 
chemist     tramped     two     miles 

along  the  stony  and  dusty  road,  "  YOU  HAVB  JUST  COMB  1N  ™*  FOR  THB  HOUSB  PAltTY" 

and  an  hour  later  reached  the 

office  of  Laird's  Furnace.  James  Hunt,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  gaiety  I  am  a  little 
superintendent,  looked  at  Ottenhausen  a  bit  worried.  There  is  something  queer 
moment,  smote  the  big  desk  before  him,  about  the  way  the  men  are  acting  these 
and  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter.  days.   The  furnace  needs  watching.    We've 

" 1  see  no  cause  for  merriment,"  said    got  a  pretty  tough  gang  here.    Don't  take 
Ottenhausen,  with  a  look  in  his  eyes  which    any  nonsense  from  them." 
caused  the  big  superintendent  to  stop  short.        Ottenhausen  said   he   would   not   have 

"  Excuse  me,  old  man," 
replied  Hunt,  "  but  I  can't 
help  it.  I  started  to  warn 
you  when  I  saw  you  set- 
ting off  on  that  old  beast, 
but  I  was  too  late." 

"  You  will  present  my 
compliments  to  Mrs. 
Hunt,"  said  Ottenhausen, 
"and  say  to  her  that,  on 

account    of    circumstances  ^    * 

over  which  I  had  no  con- 
trol, I  cannot  come  this 
evening." 

No  amount  of  persuasion 
could  induce  the  chemist 
to  change  his  mind. 

"Well,"  said  the  super- 
intendent   at    length,    "if 

you  won't  come  up  to  the  ^    r    ,  *'*' 

house,    would     you     mind  ,  /f       ^ri<>^ 

looking    after    the    eleven  9'  "'  S'' 


O'clock     Cast    tO-mght?        I        "he  turned  squarely  around,  and  with  a  quick  movement  threw  his 

don't  mind  telling  you  that  wm«  over  mis  head." 

f  Google 


RIDBR  ovbr  mis  head. 

Digitized  by  * 


478 


OTTENHAUSEN'S  COUP. 


the  least  objection. 
He  lighted  a  cigar 
after  supper,  and  in 
the  gathering  dusk 
walked  leisurely  to- 
wards the  furnace. 
He  heard  the  whir 
of  wheels.-  He 
stepped  aside,  and  a 
light  buckboard  rat- 
tled past.  The  bell 
of  the  furnace  was 
lowered  at  the  mo- 
ment, and  by  the 
light  of  the  burning 
gas  from  the  tall 
tower  Ottenhausen 
saw  that  the  occu- 
pants of  the  wagon 
were  Mrs.  Hunt  and 
her  charges.  The 
wife  of  the  superin- 
tendent 


4  ONE  OP  THEM  DUDES  PROM 
COLUMBUS." 


down,  and  saw  a  piece  of  iron  ore  as  big 
as  his  fist.  He  glanced  around  him.  The 
night  gang  had  just  come  on. 

•'According  to  the  theory  of  projec- 
tiles," remarked  Ottenhausen,  "that  mis- 
sile must  have  come  from  some  consider- 
able height." 

He  heard  the  top-filler  on  the  tunnel- 
head  pouring  a  new  charge  into  the  fur- 
nace. Three  minutes  later  the  man  felt  a 
hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  demanded  Ot- 
tenhausen. "Trying  to  kill  me,  were 
you  ?  If  I  were  certain  that  you  threw 
that  iron  ore,  I'd  break  every  bone  in 
your  body." 

"I  didn't  go  to  do  it,"  protested  the 
top-filler.     "It  fell  off." 

Ottenhausen  glared  at  the  man  for  a 

moment,  and  then  turned  on  his  heel.    "  It 

won't  be  healthy  for  you  if  anything  of 

the  kind  happens  again,"   remarked  the 

young  chemist  as  he  went 

had  gone  away. 

to     the  The  top-filler  grinned  as 

little  sta-  he  saw  the  head  of  Otten- 

tion    to  hausen     disappear.       "It 

meet  some  of  her  guests  who  won't  be  very  healthy  for 

had  arrived    by  train.     Otten-  you,  either,  my  pretty,  be- 

hausen  had  stepped  back  in  the  fore  you  get  through  with 

shadow  of  a  rail  fence,  and  the  to-night,"  he  muttered, 

young  women  did  not  recognize  Ottenhausen  went  to  the 

him.  office,  and  entered  his  little 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  bedroom.      He  took  from 

so    ridiculous?"    said    one   of  his    trunk    two   revolvers, 

the  girls.  They  had  served  him  well 

"I   don't    care,"   came  an-  in  Texas.     They  were  not 

other   voice,    and    it    had    the  weapons     of     the     silver- 

same   silvery  tone   as   that   of  plated    and    pearl-handled 

the  girl  who  had  asked  about  variety.     The  barrels  were 

the    young    chemist's    welfare  bluish  black,  and  the  cali- 

that    afternoon.      "  I    suppose  ber   was  forty-four.      The 

he'll  think  that  I'm  awful,  but  chemist  slipped  a  revolver 

I  couldn't  hetp  laughing.     He's  into   each    pocket   of    his 

rather     handsome,    too,     isn't  serge  coat,  lighted  another 

he?"  cigar,  and  returned  to  the 

Ottenhausen,      walking     to-  \     \        cast-house  with  the  air  of 

wards  the  furnace,  saw  in  his  (     \       a  man  who  was  taking  an 

mind's  eye  a  girl  clinging  to  a  /'       afternoon    walk    in     Fifth 

sapling;  her  laughing  face  was  Avenue.     He  surveyed  the 

framed  in  dark  hair.  ./-  furnace  from  top  to  bot- 

"It   was    ludicrous,"    he        « grasped  a  sapling,  and        torn.      The     fillers     were 
mused;  "I  didn't  think  it  was  laughed."  breaking  up  ore  and  lime- 

very  funny  at  the  time.     I  be-  stone  and  pitching  it  into 

gin  to  wish  that  I  had  stuck  it  out  and  barrows.  The  pig-bed  men  had  just  fin- 
gone  to  the  party,  anyway."  ished  imprinting  the  form  of  wooden 
His  reverie  was  suddenly  cut  short,  models  into  the  sand.  Everything  was 
He  heard  a  whizzing  sound  close  to  his  ready  for  the  cast.  Ottenhausen's  eye 
ear;  something  hard  struck  the  ground  fell  upon  a  mass  of  dark  cinder  lying 
within  a  few  inches  of  his  feet,  and  sent  in  the  sand  hole,  bubbling  and  sputter- 
bits  of  cinder  flying.     He  stopped,  looked    ing. 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


OTTENHAUSEN  *S  COUP. 


479 


] 


"say  to  hes  that 


I   CANNOT  COMB  THIS  EVENING.' 


"  How  long  has  this  been  drawn  off  ? " 
he  demanded. 

"About  twenty  minutes,"  growled  the 
"  cinder-snapper." 

Ottenhausengave  the  man  a  quick  glance, 
and  looked  again  at  the  cinder.  "  You're 
lying,"  he  said. 

He  seized  the  whistle-rope,  and  there 
followed  three  sharp  blasts,  the  signal  for 
casting.  From  the  cast-house  and  the 
filling-floor  thirty  men  shambled  towards 
the  hearth  of  the  furnace.  There  was  a 
look  of  evil  in  their  eyes.  Some  of  them 
held  their  hands  behind  their  backs. 

Ottenhausen  went  nearer  the  furnace, 
and  made  a  quick  examination.  A  thin 
cloud  of  steam  was  rising.  It  came  from 
behind  an  iron  jacket,  seeping  through  a 
joint.  The  water  pipes  of  one  of  the 
tuyeres  had  been  cut.  To  Ottenhausen 
that  meant  that  the  water  which  cooled 
the  nozzle  of  the  tuyere  through  which 
the  hot  air  of  the  blast  was  forced,  was 
escaping  into  the  furnace.  Ottenhausen 
knew  a  furnace  as  a  child  knows  its  alpha- 
bet. He  saw  that  the  end  of  the  tuyere 
was  being  clogged  with  metal,  and  that  it 
would  only  be  a  question  of  half  an  hour 
before  the  hearth  would  be  filled  with  a 
solid  mass  of  chilled  iron,  unless  the  con- 
tents of  the  great  crucible  were  run  out 
and  the  leaking  of  the  water  was  stopped. 

Ottenhausen  saw  the  men  move  closer 
together.  He  stood  there  in  scorching 
heat.  His  brain  was  in  a  whirl.  He  felt 
the  thumping  of  his  heart.     His  thumbs 


were  in  the  armholes  of  his  waistcoat. 
His  face  gave  no  sign  of  the  riot  of 
thoughts  in  his  brain.  He  backed  against 
a  pile  of  iron,  and  with  a  quick  movement 
drew  the  revolvers  from  his  coat  pockets 
and  leveled  them  at  the  group  of  men. 
Then  he  said,  and  his  words  were  quick 
and  sharp  as  the  blows  of  a  trip-hammer: 
"I'll  kill  the  first  man  who  disobeys  or- 
ders. Drop  those  clubs  and  that  iron 
ore. 

The  men  looked  along  the  shining  bar- 
rels of  two  revolvers  held  with  steady 
hands.  Some  of  them  started  to  take  a 
step  forward.  Jim  Johnson  made  a  move- 
ment with  his  arm.  Ottenhausen  glanced 
along  the  sight  of  one  of  the  revolvers, 
and  clutched  the  hard  rubber  handle  with 
a  firmer  grasp.  Johnson's  eye  met  the 
look  of  a  man  who  was  only  biding  his 
time  that  he  might  press  a  trigger.  He  of 
the  Red-Ox  group  let  the  club  fall  from 
his  nerveless  grasp.  Sticks,  pieces  of 
iron  ore,  and  a  revolver  or  two  fell  in  the 
sand.  The  men  of  Laird's  Furnace  had 
met  their  match.  They  held  up  their 
hands  in  mute  acknowledgment  of  the 
fact. 

"  Cut  off  the  water  from  that  No.  3 
tuyere,"  commanded  Ottenhausen. 

The  "cinder-snapper"  sullenly  obeyed. 

"  Open  the  cinder  notch,  and  be  quick 
about  it,"  was  the  next  order. 

The  keeper  stood  stock  still.  "  Cow- 
ards," he  muttered,  "  it's  only  a  bluff  ;  he 
wouldn't  shoot." 

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OTTENHAUSEN'S  COUP. 


There  came  a  cracking  sound,  and  the 
man  jumped  clear  of  the  sand,  holding 
one  hand  to  a  bleeding  ear, 

"  Anybody  else  care  to  call  me  ? "  said 
Ottenhausen,  as 
he  swung  two 
shiny  weapons 
again  towards  the 
crowd. 

The  furnace- 
keeper  opened 
the  vent,  and  a 
smoking  stream 
ot*  slag  flowed 
•  forth.  A  single 
blast  of  the 
whistle,  and  the 
top-filler  lowered 
the  bell.  A  pillar 
of  flaming  gas 
showed  thirty 
sullen  faces  and 
one  face  catm 
and  determined. 

"  Open  the  iron 
notch,  you  fel- 
lows," snapped 
Ottenhausen,  in- 
dicating three 
men  by  as  many 
pokes  of  a  re- 
volver barrel. 

Two  men  bare 
to  the  waist  ham- 
mered with  heavy 
sledges  until  steel 
bars  were  slowly 
forced    into    the 
hard    clay  which 
sealed  the   lower 
gate  of  the   fur- 
nace.   The  earth- 
en stopper  became  a  glowing  shell.     The 
men  drew  back.     The  third  man  stepped 
to  one  side,  plunged  an  iron  bar  into  the 
furnace's  mouth,  and  gave  it  a  quick  turn. 
A  fiery  flood  issued  from  the  notch,  and 
poured  along  the  channel  of  sand,  hissing 
and   roaring   and    sending   forth   rays  of 
blinding  light.     It  separated  into  scores 
of  branches  as  it  reached  the  sandy  bed  of 
open  molds.     The  white  glare  changed  to 
a  crimson  flush,  and  then  the  cast-house 
was  illumined  by  a  glow  which  grew  fainter 
and  fainter.     Darkness  came  where  there 
had  been   light.     The  men  shoveled  sand 
over  the  tracery  of  iron.      "Cut  off  the 
blast!     Slow  the  engines  down!     Stop  up 
that  iron  notch!  "  were  the  commands  of 
Ottenhausen,  given  in  quick  succession. 

The  men   lost  no  time  in  obeying  him. 


"  i'll  kill  the  first  man  who  disobeys  orders.' 


Standing  with  his  back  to  a  mass  of  iron, 
Ottenhausen  saw  the  form  of  James  Hunt. 
Behind  the  superintendent  were  a  score  of 
men  in  dress  suits,  and  further  back  Otten- 
hausen beheld 
several  young 
women.  He 
caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  girl  who 
had  clung  to  the 
sapling  that  Sep- 
tember after- 
noon. Their  eyes 
met.  Then  Ot- 
tenhausen turned 
again  to  the  work 
which  he  had  in 
hand.  The  re- 
port of  the  pistol 
had  set  the  house 
party  at  Eagle's 
Nest  in  an  up- 
roar. Hunt 
started  for  the 
scene,  and  his 
guests  followed 
him. 

"Only  a  little 
unpleasantness, " 
remarked  Otten- 
hausen to  the  su- 
perintendent. 
"We're  getting 
along  all  right 
now." 

James      Hunt, 
being     an     alto- 
gether      discreet 
person,      stood 
back     and     per- 
mitted     Otten- 
hausen   to    finish 
a   most    disagreeable   task.      The   young 
women    were    sent    back    to   the   house. 
The  men  in  dress  suits  were  with  them. 

"  Now,  men,"  said  Ottenhausen,  "  we're 
getting  things  in  shape  again.  Suppose  a 
couple  of  you  take  out  that  tuyere." 

There  was  almost  a  cheerful  alacrity  in 
the  way  in  which  the  men  now  obeyed 
Ottenhausen's  orders.  The  tuyere,  with 
its  nozzle  and  cut  water  pipes,  was  taken 
out.  The  section  of  the  jacket  was  re- 
moved. Sledges  and  crowbars,  manipu- 
lated by  strong,  albeit  unwilling,  arms, 
soon  broke  away  the  mass  of  iron  which 
had  choked  the  front  of  the  aperture. 
Another  tuyere  was  fitted,  the  water  con- 
nections made,  and  the  jacket  replaced. 
A  cooling  stream  was  soon  coursing 
through   a    new    nozzle,    and    not    many 


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OTTENHAUSEN' S  COUP. 


481 


»THBY  TR1KD  TO 


TBLL.  HIM   THAT   HE  WAS   A    HERO. 


minutes  had  gone  before  the  hot  blast 
was  roaring  through  the  tall  tower. 

"  Go  back  to  work,"  said  Ottenhausen. 
"  I'll  stay  here  until  the  new  gang  comes 
on,  and  then  we'll  see  what's  to  be  done 
about  it." 

"  Well,"  said  James  Hunt,  who  again 
appeared  upon  the  scene,  "you  won't 
always  be  a  chemist.  As  for  me,  I  rather 
think  I  have  something  to  explain.  The 
president  of  the  company  was  down  here, 
and  saw  the  whole  business.  Confound 
house  parties,  anyway." 

He  of  the  Red-Ox  group  of  anarchists 
and  several  of  the  ring-leaders  disappeared 
on  the  following  morning.  Others  were 
discharged.  Discipline  was  restored  at 
Laird's  Furnace,  and  James  Hunt  once 
more  held  the  reins.  As  for  Ottenhausen, 
he  didn't  see  that  he  had  done  anything 
remarkable.  They  tried  to  talk  to  him 
about  it  and  to  tell  him  that  he  was  a  hero, 
but  he  only  smiled  and  said  that  he  did 
what  anybody  else  would  have  done  under 
the  circumstances;  and  as  to  the  girl  who 
laughed,  he  would  hear  nothing  from  her 
on  the  subject  of  furnace-men  and  tuyere 
No.  3.  The  incident  with  regard  to  that 
mule  seemed  to  have  been  entirely  for- 
gotten. 


In  the  top  of  a  tall  building  in  Colum- 
bus there  is  a  door  bearing  a  porcelain 
label  which  reads:  "General  Manager." 
Behind  that  door  sits  Carl  Ottenhausen, 
who  now  directs  the  destinies  of  the 
Mingo  Coal  and  Iron  Company.  He 
owns  a  handsome  house  in  the  West  End 
which  puts  Eagle's  Nest  to  shame.  There 
presides  over  that  household  a  blue-eyed 
woman  whose  very  look  is  merriment. 
Those  two  had  an  anniversary  the  other 
day;  it  really  doesn't  matter  how  long 
they  had  been  married.  When  the  guests 
had  gone,  Mrs.  Ottenhausen  rested  a  hand 
upon  her  husband's  shoulder,  and  looked 
up  into  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  know  when  I  first  fell  in  love 
with  you  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I've  never  told 
you,  you  know.    I  said  I  would  some  day." 

"Why,"  replied  Ottenhausen,  "I  had 
always  supposed  that  you  were  impressed 
by  my  gentle  demeanor  when  I  threatened 
to  do  wholesale  murder  down  there  at 
Laird's  Furnace.  You  didn't  suppose 
that  I'd  actually  do  all  that  said  I  would, 
did  you  ?" 

"Oh,  no,  it  wasn't  then,"  replied  the 
woman,  with  a  merry  laugh.  "  It  was 
when  I  saw  that  disreputable  mule  throw 
you  over  his  head." 


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#      l/"\|l  Was^sore  afraid  8 

&      ill £|  That  her  mistress  would  let  her  §0.  $ 
ft  Tho  hard  she  worked,  $ 

And  never  shirked,  t 


|  At  cleaning  she  was  slow,    f 

a      Now.  all  is  bri6ht,  $ 


n      Her  heart  is  lioht,  r*  t.  ft 

t      For  she's  found      ^apOllO.    jj 


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THE  GORDONS  ASSAULTING  THE  DARGAI  CLIFF,  OCTOBER  20,    1897. 

By  permission,  from  a  sketch  made  on  the  field  by  the  special  correspondent  of  the  London  "  Daily  Graphic."  The 
Gordons  are  seen  rushing  across  the  open  zone  of  fire,  to  gain  the  protection  of  the  foot  of  the  diff  and  thence  mount  and 
turn  the  enemy's  flank.  In  the  foreground  is  Piper  Findlater,  who,  a  little  later,  was  shot  through  both  legs,  but  still 
went  on  piping  the  "Cock  o'  the  North,"  for  the  inspiritment  of  the  Gordons. 


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McClure's  Magazine. 


Vol.  X.  APRIL,  1898.  No.  6. 


STORIES    OF    THE    GORDON    HIGHLANDERS. 

11  y  Charles  Lowe. 

THE    FIGHTING    GORDONS    AT    DARGAI  — ONE    OF    THE    MOST    DAR- 
ING  CHARGES   IN    RECENT   WARFARE. 

The  British  victory  at  Dargai,  which  has  lately  given  so  much  prominence  to  the 
Gordon  Highlanders,  was  one  of  those  rare  instances  of  sheer  enthusiasm  and  bravery 
achieving  what  cool  military  judgment  had  pronounced  to  be  impossible.  To  reach 
the  foot  of  the  Dargai  cliff  the  assailants  had  to  cross  a  space  perhaps  a  hundred  and 
fifty  yards  wide  which  was  entirely  open  to  the  enemy's  fire  from  three  different  points 
on  the  top  of  the  cliff.  Then,  for  ascending  the  cliff  there  was  but  one  path,  a  rough, 
zigzag  watercourse,  so  narrow  as  to  permit  not  more  than  two  men  to  mount  abreast. 
An  assault  was  ordered  on  the  morning  of  October  20th.  The  natives  on  the  crest 
reserved  their  fire  until  the  moment  when  it  would  be  most  fatal;  only  the  smallest 
fraction  of  the  assaulting  column  got  across  the  open  to  the  base  of  the  cliff,  and  the 
attempt  had  to  be  abandoned,  the  commanding  officer  reporting  that  the  passage 
could  not  be  made.  But  word  came  back  that  it  must  be  made,  and  the  Gordon 
Highlanders  and  the  Third  Sikhs  were  sent  forward  to  reinforce  the  assaulting  line. 
Then  it  was  that  the  colonel  of  the  Highlanders  called  to  them,  "  Men  of  the  Gordon 
Highlanders,  the  General  says  that  the  position  must  be  taken  at  all  costs.  The  Gor- 
don Highlanders  will  take  it." 

"  The  order  was  given,"  writes  a  correspondent  from  the  field,  "  the  officers  leapt 
into  the  open,  the  pipers  followed,  striking  up  the  'Cock  o'  the  North,'  and  with  a 
shout  the  leading  company  of  kilted  men  was  into  the  fire  zone.  A  stream  of  lead 
swept  over,  through,  and  past  them,  the  bullets  churning  up  a  dust  which  half  hid  the 
rushing  bodies.  The  leading  line  melted  away,  and  it  seemed  that  the  Gordons  would 
be  annihilated;  but  more  sprang  into  the  passage,  and  the  leaders  struggled  across  to 
the  cover.  Then  there  was  a  lull,  and  one  had  time  to  see  how  cruel  had  been  the 
slaughter.  With  a  second  cheer  the  mixed  troops — Highlanders,  Dorsets,  Ghurkas, 
Derbys,  and  Sikhs — streamed  across,  and  the  enemy,  seeing  that  the  barrier  had  been 
swept  away,  left  their  loopholes  and  barricades  and  fled  precipitately  down  the  reverse 
slopes.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  that  passage  fully  or  to  write  of  the  Gordons  tem- 
perately. One  of  the  pipers  leading  his  section  was  shot  through  both  legs,  yet  he 
sat  through  the  fire,  wounded  as  he  was,  still  piping  the  '  Cock  o'  the  North.'  " — Editor. 

]HE  martial  feats  performed  on  dates  back  to  the  year  1794,  when  more 
some  of  the  most  formidable  soldiers  were  wanted  to  fight  the  bat- 
warriors  in  the  world,  at  the  ties  which  the  ambition  of  the  French 
storming  of  the  Dargai  ridge,  had  made  imperative  on  England,  and 
among  the  mountains  of  the  the  Duke  of  Gordon,  known  as  "  The 
Indian  frontier,  have  lately  Cock  o'  the  North,"  was  granted  a  "  letter 
directed  attention  anew  to  the  of   service"  empowering  him  to  raise  a 

famous   Scottish  corps,  the  Gordon  High-  regiment  of  infantry  among  his  clansmen. 

landers,  known  as  the  Ninety-second.     It  This  was  in  February,  and  by  the  month 

Copyright,  1898,  by  the  S.  S.  McClure  Co.    All  rights  reserved. 

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STORIES  OF   THE  GORDON  HIGHLANDERS, 


of  June — so  easy  had  it  been  to  procure  forward  to  claim  the  fee.    Afterwards,  when 


recruits — a  magnificent  battalion  of   over 
a  thousand  strong  paraded  at  Aberdeen, 
ready  to  go   anywhere  and   do  anything. 
They  were  at  once  sent  to  the  Mediterra- 
nean, but  it  was  five  years  before  they  re- 
ceived their  baptism  of  fire,  in  the  attempt 
to  wrest  Holland  from  the  grasp  of  the 
French.     In  their  eagerness  to  be  the  first 
to  land,  the  impetuous  Gordons  lost  fifteen 
of    their  number  by 
drowning.     After 
some  futile  marching 
and      countermarch- 
ing, the  British  com- 
mander—  the    Duke 
of  York — determined 
to  deliver  a  crushing 
blow   at  the  French 
position    round    Eg- 
mont-op-Zee,  and 
with  this  intent  sent 
to    his    right    front, 
along  the  sandy  sea- 
shore, twenty  pieces 
of  artillery. 

Divining  his  ob- 
ject, the  French 
launched  against 
these  guns  a  column 
of  six  thousand  in- 
fantry with  intent  to 
snap  them  up — a  task 
which  seemed  all  the 
easier  as  they  were 
only  escorted  by 
about  a  battalion  of 

what  appeared  to  them  to  be  mere  petti- 
coated  Amazons  who  could  be  dispersed 
like  chaff. 

Alas  for  the  French  hopes  of  swallow- 
ing up  all  the  British  artillery,  it  was 
the  Gordons  who  had  the  *'  guidin'  o't;  " 
and  the  Gordons,  believing  the  best  parry 
to  be  the  thrust,  rushed  forward  to  meet 
the  advancing  foe,  whose  numbers  were 
more  than  six  to  one,  and,  with  a  wild 
cheer,  flung  themselves  on  the  French- 
men with  the  bayonet.  But  the  Gordons 
were  able  to  emblazon  their  colors  with 
their  first  victory  only  at  the  cost  of  sixty- 
five  killed  and  208  wounded,  the  latter  in- 
cluding their  colonel,  the  Marquis  of 
Huntly. 

General  Sir  John  Moore  himself  was 
among  the  wounded,  and  had  to  be  carried 
off  the  field  by  two  Gordons.  Afterwards 
he  offered  twenty  pounds  to  the  soldiers 
who  had  done  for  him  this  Samaritan  ser- 
vice, but,  though  the  reward  was  offered 
to  the  regiment  on  parade,  no  man  stepped 


SIR  G.  S.  WHITE,  WHO  LED  THE  CORDONS  AT  CHARASIAB 
AND  CANDAHAR.  HE  WAS  AFTERWARDS  COMMANDER-IN- 
CHIEF    IN    INDIA. 

From  a  photograph  by  Window  &  Grove,  London. 


Moore  was  knighted,  and  assumed  a  coat 
of  arms,  he  selected  a  Highlander  for  one 
of  his  supporters,  "  in  gratitude  to,  and 
commemoration  of,  twp  soldiers  of  the 
Ninety-second,  who  raised  me  from  the 
ground  when  I  was  lying  on  my  face 
wounded  and  stunned." 

The   Gordons   were   next   sent  to  help 
against  the  French  in  Egypt.     No  amount 
of     desperate    valor 
on    the   part   of   the 
Napoleonic    "Invin- 
cibles"    could   avail 
to  roll  back  the  fiery 
tide  of  battle  which 
was  presently  poured 
in  upon  them  by  such 
regiments  as  the  Gor- 
dons,    the    Black 
Watch,    the    Camer- 
ons,     the     Ninetieth 
••  Perthshire      Grey- 
breeks,"    and    other 
British       regiments, 
which,   in    the   teeth 
of  a  terrific  cannon- 
ade,   landed   on    the 
shore     of     Aboukir, 
swept     the      French 
from    their  semi-cir- 
cular crest  of  domi- 
nating  sand-hills   as 
one  would   sweep   a 
floor  with  a  broom, 
established  them- 
selves on  the  heights 
of  Mandora,  and  defied  all  efforts  on  the 
part  of  Bonaparte's  infuriated  legions  to 
counter-assault  them  into  the  sea.     At  the 
first  attack  on  the  heights  of  Mandora  the 
Gordons   headed    the  left   column  of  the 
army  into  action;  nor,  though  set  upon  by 
a  semi-brigade  and  exposed  to  a  galling 
fire  of  grapeshot,  did  they  falter  for  a  mo- 
ment,   but  continued   unshaken  their   ad- 
vance to  the  very  muzzles  of  the  guns,  of 
which  they  captured  three,  routing  all  their 
defenders  and  possessing  themselves  of  the 
right  of  the  position — a  feat  which   com- 
pelled  the  French  to  fall  back  under  the 
walls  of  Alexandria. 

Again,  the  losses — including  the  death 
of  their  colonel,  Erskine  of  Cardross — 
were  very  heavy,  so  much  so  that  the  deci- 
mated regiment  was  compassionately  or- 
dered back  to  Aboukir.  But,  on  their  way 
thither,  several  days  later,  the  Gordons 
suddenly  heard  the  sound  of  firing  in  their 
rear,  and,  rightly  concluding  that  the 
French,  with  the  aid   of    reinforcements, 

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STORIES  OF   THE  GORDON  HIGHLANDERS. 


487 


had  sallied  forth  again  to  counter-attack 
the  British  position,  they  wheeled  round, 
in  spite  of  all  their  wounds  and  sickness, 
and  hurried  back  to  their  previous  station 
in  the  fighting  line,  taking  a  prominent 
part  in  what  proved  to  be  the  victorious 
battle  of  Alexandria,  which  practically 
decided  the  campaign. 

Their  next  service  was  of  a  ceremonial 
kind,  as,  on  returning  to  England,  the 
"  Gay  Gordons  "  were  called  upon  to  lend 


an  clement  of  picturesqueness  to  the 
streets  of  Loudon  by  lining  them  with 
their  statuesque  figures  on  the  day  when 
Nelson  was  borne  to  his  resting-place  be- 
neath the  sky-aspiring  dome  of  St.  Paul's. 
Then,  after  taking  a  leading  part  in  the 
Danish  campaign,  which  ended  in  the  re- 
duction of  Copenhagen  and  the  surrender 
of  the  Danish  fleet,  they  were  sent  to 
Spain,  which  England  had  undertaken  to 
purge  of  the  French,   and   plucked  fresh 


COLORS   (OLD   AND   NEW)    OF  THE   CORDON    HIGHLANDERS. 

From  a  photograph  by  Maclure,  MacDonald  &  Co.,  Glasgow. 

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488 


STORIES  OF   THE  GORDON  HIGHLANDERS. 


laurels  at  Corunna,  whither  Sir  John 
Moore,  like  a  second  Xenophon,  had  re- 
tired before  an  overwhelming  French 
army,  commanded  by  Soult,  in  order  to 
gain  his  ships. 

But,  before  embarking  on  their  vessels, 
it  was  necessary  that  the  14,000  British 
should  secure  themselves  against  all  hin- 
drance in  the  operation  by  beating  the 
more  than  20,000  of  their  pursuers.  Ac- 
cordingly they  turned  and  fronted  the 
French,  who,  descending  the  surrounding 
hills,  came  on  with  great  impetuosity,  but 
only  to  have  their  furious  battalions 
broken  to  pieces  by  the  bullets,  especially 
by  the  bayonets,  of  Moore's  determined 
regiments.  • 

The  center  of  his  position  had  been 
gravely  imperiled  by  the  giving  out  of  the 
ammunition  of  the  Forty-second  High- 
landers, who  were  waging  a  terrific  strug- 
gle with  the  French  for  the  possession  of 
the  village  of  Elvina.  '  But  at  this  crisis 
Moore  himself  galloped  up  and  shouted, 
44  My  brave  Highlanders!  You  have  still 
got  your  bayonets!  Remember  Egypt!  " 
and  their  ensuing  charge  decided  the  day. 

Far  away  on  the  left  there  was  also 
raging*a  furious  conflict,  where  Hope's 
Division,  which  included  the  Gordons,  was 
budging   never   an    inch    and  doggedly 
barring  the  French  advance.   4  4  How  goes 
it  on  the  left  ?     How  fares  it  with  the 
Gordons  ?  "    <4  True  to  their  motto,  4  By- 
dand,'  standing  ever  fast,  and  their  war- 
pipes  lilting  above  the  loudest  din  of  bat- 
tle, though  their  colonel  (Napier)  is  slain." 
From  lilting  they  changed  to  a  mournful 
lullaby  when  the  heroic  Moore  was  laid  in 
his  coffinless  rest  44  with  his  martial  cloak 
around  him;  "  but  again  they  struck  up  a 
stirring  air,  the  mocking  strains  of  44  Hey, 
Johnnie  Cope,"   when  the  British  fleet  of 
transports  gaily  sailed  away  from  Corunna 
with  all  the  victorious  battalions  aboard, 
waving   the   kindliest   of   kisses   to   their 
baffled  French  pursuers. 

Having  thus  so  materially  helped  Moore 
to  prevent  Soult  from  44  driving  the  Eng- 
lish leopard  into  the  sea  "  at  Corunna,  the 
44  Gay  Gordons,"  a  little  later,  played  an 
equally  prominent  part  in  assisting  Wel- 
lington himself  to  balk  the  sworn  deter- 
mination of  Masslna  to  toss  the  British 
into  the  Tagus.  On  proceeding,  however, 
to  carry  out  this  terrific  purpose,  Masslna 
found,  to  his  no  small  amazement,  that 
Wellington  had  meanwhile  fronted  his  po- 
sition with  lines  which  might  have  moved 
the  admiration  of  the  Romans — triple  lines 
of  fortification,    fifty  miles   in    aggregate 


Piper  Third,  was  at  Malakand  and  in 
Egyptian  War  with  ist  Battalion. 


Drummer  Stanley. 

TYPES  OF  CORDON    HIGHLANDERS. 


length,  including  150  redoubts,  mounted 
with  600  guns,  and  the  flower  of  England's 
infantry,  including  the  gallant  Gordons, 
now  commanded  by  Cameron  of  Fassifern, 
behind  them.  On  arriving  in  Portugal  to 
help  in  manning  those  famous  ramparts  of 
Torres  Vedras,  the  Highlanders — whose 
picturesque  garb  and  martial  mien  ap- 
pealed strongly  to  the  imagination  of  the 
inhabitants — were  acclaimed  with  shouts 
of  '*  Viva  los  Eseotos!  Viva  Don  Juan 
Cameron  et  sus  valiante  Eseotos  /  "  (4 4  Long 
live  the  Scots!  Long  live  Sir  John  Cam- 
eron and  his  valiant  Scots.") 

Unable  to  make  any  impression  on 
Wellington's  triple  lines  of  intrenchment, 
and  reduced  to  despair  by  the  pangs  of 
hunger,  Mass^na  had  no  alternative  but 
to  retire,  and  his  retreat  was  in  turn  hard 
pressed  by  the  Iron  Duke.  When  the 
French  vainly  turned  upon  Wellington  at 
Fuentes  d'Onoro,  in  the  proportion  of 
three  to  four,  the  Gordons  were  posted  on 

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STORIES  OF   THE  GORDON  HIGHLANDERS. 


489 


Bandmaster  Windram. 


Sergeant  Angus, 


Sergeant- Major  Robertson. 


Sergeant  Grassick. 
severely  wounded  at  Dargai. 


Private  Sutherland. 


TYPES  OF   CORDON    HIGHLANDERS. 

Trom  a  photograph  by  Gregory  &  Co.,  London. 


the  right,  as  at  Egmont-ori-Zee,  to  cover 
a  brigade  of  nine-pounders,  where  they 
endured  a  severe  cannonade,  which  killed 
and  wounded  five  and  thirty  of  their  offi- 
cers and  men.  But  they  had  still  a  finer 
opportunity  of  distinguishing  themselves 
in  the  ensuing  surprise  at  Arroya  des  Mo- 
linos,  when,  with  the  Seventy-first  High- 
landers, they  helped  to  surprise  and  capture 
all  the  stores  and  baggage  of  Gerard's 
division  on  a  dark  and  misty  October 
morning. 

But  the  same  pair  of  Highland  regi- 
ments were  afterwards  despatched  on  a 
still  more  daring  enterprise  than  the  cap- 
ture of  Arroya  des  Molinos,  to  wit,  the 
surprise  and  storming  of  the  forts  guard- 
ing the  pontoon  bridge  of  Almarez  over 
the  Tagus,  which  formed  the  sole  means 
of  communication  between  the  armies  of 
Soult  and  Marmont.  Fort  Napoleon,  on 
the  left  bank  of  the  river,  was  stormed 
with  frightful  carnage;  but  then  the  com- 


mander of  Fort  Ragusa,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  Tagus,  cut  away  the  bridge; 
and  how,  therefore,  were  the  stormers  to 
cross  and  complete  their  capture  of  the 
whole  position  ? 

The  problem  was  at  once  solved  by 
several  of  the  Gordon  Highlanders  who, 
tossing  aside  their  bonnets,  plunged  into 
the  stream  and  breasted  their  stubborn 
way  to  the  further  bank,  whence  they  at 
once  returned  with  the  pontoons,  which 
enabled  their  comrades  to  cross  and  cap- 
ture Fort  Ragusa.  Gall  and  Somervillc — 
the  two  Gordons  who  had  been  the  first 
to  plunge  into  the  river — were  presented 
by  Lord  Hill  with  a  gold  doubloon  each 
in  view  of  the  whole  regiment.  Had  they 
been  Gordons  of  our  own  day,  they  would 
have  been  presented  with  the  Victoria 
Cross.  "Almarez"  is  one  of  the  proudest 
names  on  the  colors  of  the  Ninety-second. 

But  not  more  so  than  the  crowning 
mercy  of  Vittoria,  where  Wellington,  by  a 
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49° 


STORIES  OF   THE  GORDON  HIGHLANDERS. 


magnificent  flank  march,  out-manoeuvred 
King  Joseph  Bonaparte,  totally  defeating 
his  huge  army,  and  captured  all  his  can- 
non, baggage,  military  chest,  and  stores, 
and  at  last  sent  the  Napoleonic  armies 
reeling  home  to  France. 

Brigaded  with  the  Seventy-first  High- 
landers, the  Gordons  were  ordered  to  storm 
the  heights  of  La  Puebla,  which  formed 
the  key  to  the  French  position,  their  orders 
from  Sir  William  Stuart — known  to  his 
men  as  "  Auld  Grog  Willie" — being  to 
"yield  them  to  none  without  a  written 
order  from  Sir  Rowland  Hill  or  myself, 
and  defend  them  while  you  have  a  man  re- 
maining.' '  On  this,  Cameron  of  Fassifern 
ordered  the  pipers  to  strike  up  the  "  Cam- 
eron's Gathering,"  and  the  regiment  ad- 
vanced with  invincible  determination  up 
the  mountain  side  to  sanguinary  conflict 
and  victory.  But  far  more  bloody  than 
the  battle  of  Vittoria  was  the  ensuing  ac- 
tion at  Maya,  the  Rock  of  which,  in  the 
pass  of  the  same  name,  the  Highlanders 
had  been  ordered  to  hold  at  all  costs 
against  five-fold  odds.  For  ten  successive 
hours  these  brave  fellows — the  targets  of 
an  infernal  artillery  and  musketry  fire — 
held  the  Rock  until  their  ammunition  was 
exhausted  and  human  flesh  and  blood 
could  stand  on  the  defensive  no  longer. 
By  "Auld  Grog  Willie"  they  had  been 
strictly  enjoined  not  to  charge,  but,  exas- 
perated by  the  slaughter  they  had  en- 
dured, the  Gordons  for  the  first  time  disre- 
garded orders^  and  hurled  themselves  on 
the  French  with  the  bayonet. 

They  had  gone  into  action  a  little  over 
800  strong,  and  when  the  charge  was  over, 
their  number  was  only  a  little  more  than 
a  half  of  that,  Cameron  himself  being 
among  the  wounded.  "  So  dreadful  was 
the  slaughter,"  wrote  Napier,  the  histo- 
rian of  the  war,  "that  the  assault  of  the 
enemy  was  actually  stopped  by  the  heaped 
up  masses  of  dead  and  dying.  .  .  .  The 
stern  valor  of  the  Ninety-second  would 
have  graced  Thermopylae." 

But  perhaps  their  most  dashing  achieve- 
ment in  the  long  campaign  was  their  ford- 
ing of  a  stream  and  extrusion  of  the  French 
from  a  village  (Arriverete)  where  they 
were  endeavoring  to  destroy  a  wooden 
bridge.  For  this  brilliant  feat,  which 
secured  the  passage  of  Wellington's  army 
across  the  river,  their  colonel  was  granted, 
as  crest,  a  Gordon  Highlander,  up  to  the 
middle  in  water,  grasping  in  his  right  hand 
a  broadsword,  and  in  his  left  a  banner  in- 
scribed "  92nd  "  within  a  leaf  of  laurel. 

From  the  Peninsular  War  no  regiment 


emerged  with  more  laurels  than  the  Gordon 
High  and ers;  and  when  Napoleon  escaped 
from  Elba  and  again  unfurled  his  rapa- 
cious eagles,  the  Ninety-second  was  one 
of  the  first  regiments  sent  to  the  front  to 
clip  their  wings.  "Come  to  me,  and  I 
will  give  you  flesh,"  was  the  pibroch  to 
which,  with  the  gallant  Cameron  again  at 
their  head,  they  footed  it  out  of  Brussels 
on  a  beautiful  summer  morning  of  1815, 
after  the  famous  ball  given  to  the  officers 
of  Wellington's  army  in  Belgium  by  the 
Duchess  of  Richmond. 

"  The  Forty-second  (Black  Watch)  and 
Ninety-second  (Gordon  Highlanders)," 
wrote  an  eyewitness,  "  marcned  through 
the  Place  Royale  and  the  Pare.  One  could 
not  but  admire  their  fine  appearance,  their 
steady  military  demeanor,  with  their  pipers 
playing  before  them,  the  beams  of  the 
rising  sun  shining  on  their  glittering  arms. 
On  many  a  Highland  hill  and  in  many  a 
lowland  village  will  the  deeds  of  these 
brave  men  be  remembered.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  watch  such  a  sight  unmoved." 
Some  of  the  officers  ^marched  in  their  silk 
socks  and  dancing  pumps,  which  they  had 
had  no  time  to  change. 

The  Gordons  were  brigaded  with  the 
Royal  Scots  and  the  Black  Watch,  form- 
ing part  of  Picton's  Division — as  fine  a 
Scottish  brigade  as  ever  leveled  bayo- 
nets; and  the  same  day  Wellington  came 
upon  the  French,  under  Marshal  Ney,  at 
Quatre  Bras.  The  duke  himself  was 
nearly  taken  prisoner,  and  only  owed  his 
escape  to  an  order  he  promptly  gave  to  a 
section  of  the  Ninety-second  to  lie  down 
in  the  ditch  they  were  lining  while  he 
jumped  his  hoTse  over  them.  The  duke 
himself  was  much  with  the  Gordons  that 
day.  "  Ninety-second,"  he  cried,  "  don't 
let  that  fellow  escape."  "  Ninety-second," 
he  again  called  out,  "don't  fire  till  I  tell 
you;  "  for  the  Gordons  were  as  eager  for 
the  fray  as  the  Ninety-third  Highlanders 
afterwards  were  at  Balaklava. 

Presently,  however,  the  duke  gave  them 
the  rein  when  several  regiments  of  heavy 
French  cavalry  came  surging  on,  and  then 
the  plumed  bonnets  of  the  Gordons  rose 
darkly  in  a  line  from  the  ditch,  while  a 
stream  of  fire  was  poured  into  the  pranc- 
ing column,  throwing  it  into  utter  confu- 
sion. Again  the  French  horsemen  charged, 
and  again  they  were  repulsed.  Forming 
under  cover  of  this  cavalry  attack,  a  heavy 
column  of  French  infantry  advanced 
against  Picton's  Division;  and  the  duke, 
waving  his  hat,  cried:  "  Ninety-second, 
prepare  to  charge!  " 

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492 


STORIES  OF   THE   GORDON  HIGHLANDERS, 


On  this  the  whole  regiment  rose  from 
the  ditch  as  one  man,  closed  in,  and,  dash- 
ing with  their  bayonets  through  the  smoke, 
put  the  French  to  immediate  rout. 

But  their  noble  leader,  Cameron,  the 
hero  of  so  many  fields,  fell,  fatally  struck 
by  a  bullet  from  a  farmhouse  held  by  the 
French.  At  this  a  wild  roar  rose  from  the 
ranks  of  "the  lads  he  loved  so  well/' 
and  in  another  five  minutes  every  soul  in 
the  farmhouse  had  been  bayoneted. 
44  Where  is  the  rest  of  the  regiment?" 
asked  Picton  in  the  evening.  Alas,  half 
the  "Gay  Gordons"  had  perished  in  the 
fray. 

And  yet  two  days  later,  on  the  18th  of 
June,  under  Major  Donald  MacDonald, 
they  again  did  wonders  on  the  rain-sod- 
den, ensanguined  field  of  Waterloo;  and 
never  in  all  the  annals  of  British  warfare 
was  there  a  more  stirring  incident  than 
when  the  Gordons  seized  hold  of  the 
stirrups  of  the  Scots  Greys  and  dashed 
down  the  slope  with  them  in  one  common 
charge  of  Scotland's  fiercest  horse  and 
foot  against  the  finest  troops  of  France. 
44  Scotland  forever!"  was  the  thrilling 
shout  of  the  Greys  as  they  dashed  past 
their  kilted  countrymen,  who  responded 
to  the  cry  with  the  wildest  enthusiasm, 
while  the  strains  of  the  pipers  intensified 
the  national  fervor.  An  officer  of  the 
Ninety-second  records  in  his  memoirs  that, 
on  the  advance  of  a  heavy  French  column 
to  attack  La  Haye  Sainte,  many  of  the 
Highlanders  struck  up  the  stirring  verses 
of  44  Scots  wha  ha'e  wi*  Wallace  bled." 

After  this  brilliant  effort,  Sir  Denis  Pack 
rode  up  to  the  regiment  and  said,  44  You 
have  saved  the  day,  Highlanders,  but  you 
must  return  to  your  position — there  is 
more  work  to  do."  And  the  Gordons — 
standing  ever  "Bydand"  in  bayonet- 
bristling  square,  line,  or  column — contrib- 
uted greatly  to  the  glorious  victory  which 
shattered  the  despotic  power  of  Napoleon 
forever  into  the  dust. 

It  was  the  4I  Daring  Duchess"  of  Gor- 
don who  had  raised  the  Ninety-second 
Highlanders;  her  son,  the  Marquis  of 
Huntly,  had  been  their  first  commander; 
it  was  her  daughter,  the  Duchess  of  Rich- 
mond, who  gave  the  famous  ball  at  Brus- 
sels on  the  eve  of  Waterloo;  it  was  the 
Gordon  Highlanders  who  gleaned  so  great 
a  share  of  glory  in  that  stupendous  fight; 
and  it  was  a  member  of  the  clan,  George 
Gordon,  Lord  Byron,  who  immortalized 
the  conflict  in  the  well-known  verses  be- 
ginning, 44  There  was  a  sound  of  revelry 
by  night;  "  so  that  there  now  appeared  to 


be  more  truth  than  ever  in  the  north  coun- 
try saying  that  44  the  Gordons  ha'e  the 
guidin'  o't." 

Reaping  golden  opinions  of  their  phy- 
sique and  discipline  wherever  they  went 
on  garrison  duty — the  West  Indies,  Ire- 
land, and  the  Mediterranean  stations — it 
was  nevertheless  some  considerable  time 
before  they  were  again  in  a  position  to 
pluck  fresh  laurels  with  the  points  of  their 
bayonets.  Waterloo  was  followed  by  what 
was  called  the  Forty  Years'  Peace.  When 
that  peace  was  at  last  broken  by  the  Cri- 
mean war,  the  Gordons  were  again  at  Gib- 
raltar; and  though  many  of  their  number 
eagerly  volunteered  into  the  Highland 
regiments  in  front  of  Sebastopol,  the 
Ninety-second  itself  only  reached  the 
Tauric  Chersonese  in  time  to  witness  the 
final  humiliation  of  the  Russians. 

Its  luck  during  the  ensuing  Mutiny  in 
India  was  almost  as  bad,  its  lot  being 
thrown  in  the  Central  Provinces.  There 
it  performed  some  marvels  of  marching 
under  torrid  heat  and  every  kind  of  hard' 
ship;  but  the  record  of  its  brilliant  feats  in 
this  respect  was  destined  to  be  lowered  by 
the  famous  march  which  it  was  called  upon 
to  execute  when  next  engaged  against  an 
enemy.  For,  chancing  to  be  in  India  in 
1878,  the  regiment  was  ordered  to  join 
the  little  army  of  retribution  with  which 
General  Sir  Frederick  Roberts  was  sent 
to  exact  vengeance  on  the  Afghans  and 
their  fickle  ruler,  Yakub  Khan,  for  their 
treacherous  and-  barbarous  murder  of  Sir 
Louis  Cavagnari  and  the  other  members 
of  the  British  Mission  at  Cabul.  Forward 
pushed  the  little  force,  and^t  Charasiab, 
about  a  dozen  miles  from  Cabul  (the  ob- 
jective of  the  expedition),  its  advance  was 
found  to  be  barred  by  the  whple  Afghan 
army,  plentifully  supplied  with  artillery 
and  with  firearms  scarcely  inferior  to  those 
of  the  British. 

But  in  spite  of  the  formidable  nature 
of  their  hill-top  position,  the  fierceness  of 
their  fighting  men,  and  the  vast  superiority 
of  their  numbers,  they  were  at  once  at- 
tacked. The  Gordons  stormed  up  three 
heights  in  succession,  and  captured  sixteen 
guns  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  The 
final  charge  was  led  by  Major  White — who 
afterwards  succeeded  Lord  Roberts  as 
Commander-in-Chief  in  India — in  a  man- 
ner which  gained  him  the  Victoria  Cross, 
the  highest  distinction  attainable  by  a 
British  soldier  44  for  valor  "  before  the  foe. 

Fearing  that  neither  rifle  nor  artillery 
fire  would  dislodge  the  foe,  he  resolved 
to  storm  the  heights.     Advancing  with  two 
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STORIES  OF   THE  GORDON  HIGHLANDERS. 


493 


companies  of  his  regiment,  and  climbing 
from  one  steep  ledge  to  another,  he  came 
upon  a  body  of  the  enemy  strongly  posted, 
and  outnumbering  his  force  by  eighteen 
to  one.  His  men  being  very  much  ex- 
hausted, and  immediate  action  necessary, 
Major  White  took  a  rifle,  and,  going  on  by 
himself,  shot  dead  the  leader  of  the  en- 
emy. Then  his 
Highlanders,  thus 
encouraged, 
rushed  on  with  a 
ringing  cheer, 
captured  the  ene- 
my's mountain 
guns,  and  rolled 
him  back  to  Ca- 
bul. 

In  the  various 
engagements 
round  Cabul  the 
Gordons  were 
ever  to  the  front; 
and  another  Vic- 
toria Cross  fell 
to  their  share 
through  the 
heroic  conduct  of 
Lieutenant  Dick- 
Cunyngham,  now 
commanding  the 
second  battalion 
of  the  regiment, 
whose  exploit  was 
thus  recounted  by 
General  Roberts 
himself: 

"  It  was  a  race 
betweenthe  High- 
landers and  the 
Afghans  as  to 
which  should  gain 
the  crest  "of  the 
ridge  first.  The 
artillery    came 

into  action  at  a  range  of  1,200  yards,  and 
under  cover  of  their  fire  the  Ninety- 
second,  supported  by  the  Guides,  rushed 
up  the  steep  slopes.  They  were  met  by  a 
furious  onslaught,  and  a  desperate  conflict 
took  place.  The  leading  officer,  Lieuten- 
ant Forbes,  a  lad  of  great  promise,  was 
killed,  and  Color-Sergeant  Drummond  fell 
by  his  side.  For  a  moment  even  the  brave 
Highlanders  were  staggered  by  the  num- 
bers and  fury  of  the  antagonists,  but  only 
for  a  moment.  Lieutenant  Dick-Cunyng- 
ham  sprang  forward  to  cheer  them  on,  and 
confidence  was  restored.  The  High- 
landers, with  a  wild  shout,  threw  them- 
selves on   the  Afghans,  and  quickly  suc- 


A   GHURKA.        FKOM     A   STUDY     BY    VRREKKR     HAMILTON,    ESQ.,     NOW 
FIRST  PUBLISHED. 


ceeded   in   driving  them  down  the  further 
side  of  the  ridge." 

But  now  came  the  supreme  effort  of  the 
war.  A  serious  disaster  to  another  Anglo- 
Indian  force  at  Maiwand  drove  its  relics 
into  Candahar,  which  the  Afghans  were 
quick  to  invest.  General  Roberts  at  once 
started  for  the  relief  with  a  little  army  of 
about  10,000,  of 
whom  only  2,800 
were  British.  But 
then  these  British 
included  the 
flower  of  Eng- 
land's Highland 
soldiery.  From 
Cabul  to  Canda- 
har the  distance 
is  320  miles.  It  is 
customary  in  a 
long  march  to 
allow  two  days' 
rest  in  each  week ; 
yet  Roberts 
granted  the  force 
but  a  single  day's 
repose  in  the 
twenty  days  of  its 
strenuous  march- 
ing. Its  average 
daily  march  was  a 
fraction  over  fif- 
teen miles.  "  As 
a  feat  of  march- 
ing," says  Archi- 
bald Forbes,  "  by 
a  regular  force  of 
10,000  men,  en- 
cumbered with 
baggage,  trans- 
port, and  follow- 
ers, this  achieve- 
ment is  unique." 

A  battle  was  at 
once  fought  in 
front  of  Candahar,  and  it  was  the  irresistible 
charge  of  the  Gordons  which  decided  the 
day.  "  The  Ninety-second,  under  Major 
White,  led  the  way,"  wrote  Forbes,  "  cov- 
ered by  the  fire  of  a  field  battery,  and  sup- 
ported by  the  Fifth  Ghurkas  and  the 
Twenty-third  Pioneers.  Springing  out  from 
a  watercourse  at  the  challenge  of  their 
leader,  the  Highlanders  rushed  across  the 
open  front.  The  Afghans,  sheltered  by 
high  banks,  fired  steadily  and  well.  Their 
riflemen  from  the  Pir  Paimal  slopes  joined 
in  a  sharp  cross  fire,  their  guns  were  well 
served.  But  the  Scottish  soldiers  were 
not  to  be  denied.  Their  losses  were  severe ; 
but  they  took  the  Afghan  guns  at  the  point 
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494 


STORIES  OF   THE   GORDON  HIGHLANDERS. 


of  the  bayonet,  and,  valiantly  supported  by 
the  Ghurkas  and  the  Pioneers,  shattered 
and  dispersed  the  mass  of  Afghans,  reck- 
oned to  have  numbered  some  8,000  men." 
On  their  way  home  to  England  after 
the  Afghan   war,    the    Gordons    were  de- 


distinguished  battalions,  animated  with  its 
own  particular  esprit  dt  corps,  resented  the 
military  marriage  of  convenience  which  had 
now  been  thrust  upon  them. 

But  there  was  no  reason  why  the  Gor- 
dons should  have  demurred  to  their  asso- 


flected  to  South  Africa  to  take  part  in  the  ciation  with  the  old  Seventy-fifth  (or  Stir- 
lingshire) Highlanders,  seeing  that  the 
latter  now  brought  to  the  common  embla- 
zonry of  the  new  regimental  colors  such 
proud  names  as  My- 
sore, Seringapatam, 
Delhi,  and  Luck- 
now —  at  all  of 
which  places  the 
Stirlingshire  men 
had  performed 
storming  feats  of  a 
most  brilliant  kind. 
It  was  their  first 
battalion  (the  old 
Seventy-fifth) 
which  now  began  to 
emblazon  the  com- 
mon colors  with 
fresh  names  of 
honor.  It  was  this 
battalion  which,  in 
1882,  formed  part 
of  Sir  Archibald 
Alison's  Highland 
Brigade  that  was 
the  first  to  overtop 
the  entrenchments 
of  Arabi  Pasha  at 
Tel-el-Kebir.  "It 
was  a  noble  sight," 
wrote     their    corn- 


campaign  against  the  Boers  of  the  Trans- 
vaal (1881);  and  it  was  here,  at  Majuba 
Hill,  that  they  encountered  their  first  se- 
rious reverse.  This 
was  owing  to  the 
fact  that  180  of 
them  were  detached 
to  form  part  of  a 
heterogeneous 
force  of  about  550 
men,  drawn  from  a 
variety  of  regi- 
ments, and  com- 
manded by  officers 
new  to  them  —  a 
force  devoid  of 
unity  and  proper 
cohesion,  which  ac- 
cordingly fell  to 
pieces  when  sud- 
denly set  upon  by 
an  overwhelming 
number  of  Boer 
marksmen  —  the 
more  so  as  it  also 
ran  short  of  ammu- 
nition, and  had  to 
use  stones  as  mis- 
siles where  bullets 
were  no  longer 
available.  That  the 


COLONEL  DICK-CUNYNGHAM,  V.C.,  WHOSE  HEROISM  INSPIRED 
THE  CORDONS  TO  A  VICTORIOUS  CHARGE  NEAR  CABUL  IN 
1878  AND  WON  HIM  THE  VICTORIA  CROSS.  HE  IS  NOW 
COMMANDER  OF  THE  2ND  BATTALION  OF  THE  REGIMENT. 

From  a  photograph  by  Lafayette,  Dublin. 


company  of  Gordons  left  more  than  three-   mander,  "  to  see  the  Gordon  and  Cameron 
fourths  of    their  number  on   the   ground    Highlanders  mingled  together  in  the  con- 


was  proof  enough  of  the  doggeciness  with 
which  they  had  defended  an  impossible 
position. 

Equally  annoying  was  another  misfor- 
tune which  befell  them  in  South  Africa, 
and  that  was  their  organiccombination  with 
another  Scottish  battalion — the  Seventy- 
fifth,  to  form  a  new  regiment  under  the 
reforming  short-service  and  linked-battal- 
ion  system  of  Mr.  Cardwell.  Wherever 
any  British  regiment  consisted  of  only  one 
battalion,  and  most  of  them  did  that,  it  was 


fusion  of  the  fight,  their  young  officers 
leading  with  waving  swords,  their  pipes 
screaming,  and  the  bright  gleam  in  the 
eyes  of  the  men  which  you  only  see  in  the 
hour  of  successful  battle." 

At  El-Teb  it  was  the  Gordons,  and  their 
fiery  rivals  of  the  Black  Watch,  who  bore 
the  brunt  of  the  Dervish  battle;  while  at 
Tamai  it  was  the  steadiness  of  Buller's 
square,  partly  formed  by  the  Gordons, 
which  saved  the  day  when  the  other 
square,  fronted  by  the  Black  Watch,  had 
been  dented  in  by  the  devilish  onrush  of 


now  to  be  linked  with  another,  so  that  each 

battalion  on  foreign  service  should  have  a  the  Hadendowas. 

feeding  one  at  home.    The  worst  of  it  was  Again,   the  new  Gordons  took   part  in 

that  the  old  Ninety-second  was  to  form  the  the    expedition    for    the    relief    of    their 

second    battalion  of    a   new   regiment   of  namesake,  the  gallant  General  Gordon  of 

Gordon  Highlanders  thus  created,  while  the  Khartoum;  and  they   gained   the   second 

Seventy-fifth,  by  reason  of  its  priority  of  of  the  prizes  offered  by  Lord  WolseJey  to 

original  creation,  was  to  become  the  first;  the   battalions    which    should    make    the 

and  it  was  amusing  to  see  how  each  of  those  quickest    passage    in    their    oar-propelled 

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496 


STORIES  OF   THE  GORDON  HIGHLANDERS. 


whaleboats  up  the  Nile.     With  their  Egyp- 
tian  laurels  still   fresh  upon  their  brows, 
the  first  battalion  of  the  Gordons  returned 
to  India.     It  was  a  Colin  Campbell  who 
had  led  them,  after  the  storming  of  Delhi, 
to  the  relief  of  Lucknow;  and  now,  in  turn, 
they  were  called  upon  to  hurry  to  the  suc- 
cor of  another  Colin  Campbell,  who,  with 
other  members  of  a  British  mission,  was 
closely    besieged    in    the   old    hill-fort    of 
Chitral,  among  the  moun- 
tains  of    India's    north-, 
western  frontier.    It  was 
a  Scotsman,  Dr.  (now  Sir 
George)  Robertson,  who 
was  chief  of  this,  politi- 
cal  mission;   it  was  an- 
other Scotsman,  Sir  Rob- 
ert   Low,    who   was   ap- 
pointed to  command  the 
expedition      despatched 
for    his   relief;    and   the 
backbone   of    the    little 
army,    which     mustered 
with     such    magnificent 
promptness    and    preci- 
sion,   consisted    of    the 
Gordons,    the     Seaforth 
Highlanders,     and     the 
Scottish  Borderers. 

Swiftly  advancing  from 
the  muster-ground  at  Pe- 
shawur,  and  heading  for 
the    hills,    General    Low 
found  the  fierce  and  war- 
like   hordes     of     Umra 
Khan  crowning  the  en- 
trenched    mountain- 
brows  of  the   Malakand 
Pass — a  defile  by  which 
it  is  supposed  that  Alex- 
ander the  Great  had  led 
his  conquering  legions  down  into  the  plains 
of  India.    After  shelling  for  some  time  the 
heights  occupied  in  such  force  by  the  fierce 
Pat  nan  tribesmen,  Low  ordered  an  attack, 
the  Gordons  being  on  the   right,  and  the 
Borderers  in  the  center  of  the  assaulting 
line. 

With  their  pipes  playing  their  most  mar- 
tial pibroch,  the  Brigade  sprang  up  the 
mountain  side,  and  soon  reached  the  ene- 
my's "sangars,"  or  loose  stone-parapets, 
one  of  which  the  Gordons  took  in  flank, 
and  bayoneted  its  holders.  The  last  climb 
was  precipitous.  Lieutenant  Wratt,  of  the 
Gordons,  was  the  first  to  top  the  ridge, 
and  several  Pathans  rushed  at  him  with 
their  flashing  tulwars.  Two  he  brought 
down  with  his  revolver,  and  then  used  his 
claymore.     Inspired  by   his  example,   his 


COLONEL  H.  H.  MATH1AS,  C.  B.,  WHO  LEO  THE 
GORDONS  IN  THE  CHARGE  AT  DARGAI  ;  HE 
IS  COLONEL  OF  THE    FIRST   BATTALION. 


men  clambered  and  pushed  each  other  up, 
and  delivered  a  bayonet  charge  which 
practically  won  the  day. 

But,  brilliant  as  was  their  storming  of 
the  Malakand  Pass,  the  same  Gordoas  were 
still  to  surpass  themselves  iii  their  next  and 
latest  feat.  With  their  old  cattle-lifting 
comrades  from  the  Scottish  border,  they 
were  ordered  to  join  the  expedition  with 
which  Sir  William  Lockhart  wras  sent  last 
autumn  to  reduce  to  sub- 
mission the  unruly  and 
rebellious  Mohammedan 
tribes  inhabiting  the  wild, 
mountainous  region  be- 
tween India  and  Afghan- 
istan— tribes  second  to  no 
race  of  men  in  the  world 
in  respect  of  their  martial 
qualities.  The  brave  and 
dogged  tribesmen  were 
gradually  pushed  back 
before  Lockhart's  ad- 
vancing battalions — Brit- 
ish and  native — until  at 
last,  after  varying  for- 
tune, they  determined  to 
make  a  stand  on  the  sum- 
mit of  the  Dargai  ridge 
of  the  Chagru  Kotal — a 
hill  about  1,000  feet  high 
and  crowned  with  pre- 
cipitous rocks.  From  this 
natural  fortress  Lock- 
hart  resolved  to  drive 
its  defenders  co&te  que 
codte. 

A  battalion  of  Ghur- 
kas,  than  whom  India 
contains  no  braver  men, 
first  tried  it,  but  failed. 
The  Dorsetshire  regi- 
ment then  made  a  dash  across  the  fire- 
zone,  but  the  dominating  fire  of  the 
Afridi  rifles,  which  swept  the  unsheltered 
area  across  which  the  stormers  had  to  rush 
before  gaining  the  ridge,  was  also  too 
much  for  them,  and  they,  too,  fell  back. 
Then  the  men  of  Derbyshire  essayed  the 
murderous  task,  but  recoiled  before  the 
deadliness  of  the  Afridi*  aim.  Three 
hours  had  been  thus  consumed,  and  still 
the  standards  of  the  fierce  tribesmen 
waved  triumphantly  and  defiantly  on  the 
summit  of  the  ridge  in  spite  of  the  shell 
fire  which,  at  long  range  from  an  opposite 
height,  had  been  rained  on  their  position. 
The  general  sent  to  Colonel  Mathias,  com- 
manding the  Gordons,  who  had  meanwhile 
pushed  up  to  the  front  and  were  marshaled 
in  front  of  the  Afridi  position  under  cover 


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THE  GAY  GORDONS. 


497 


of  a  bluff;  and  then  the  colonel  said  to 
his  men,  "  Men  of  the  Gordon  Highland- 
ers, the  General  says  that  the  position 
must  be  taken  at  all  costs.  The  Gordon 
Highlanders  will  take  it!  " 

That  was  quite  enough.  The  Highland- 
ers responded  with  a  ringing  cheer  and 
fixed  their  bayonets;  their  pipers  struck  up 
the  regimental  march;  the  colonel  led  the 
way,  waving  his  sword;  and  the  whole  bat- 
talion, by  companies,  rose  from  their  cover 
as  they  had  done  from  their  ditch  at 
Quatre  Bras,  and,  with  a  wild  shout, 
dashed  into  and  across  the  open  zone  of 
fire.  Many  fell  from  the  pelting,"  plung- 
ing hail  of  Afridi  bullets,  and  most  of  the 
company  pipers  were  struck  down.  Piper 
Findlater  was  shot  through  both  ankles 
by  an  expanding  bullet  which  simply  pul- 
verized his  bones,  and  down  he  also  fell. 
But,  propping  his  back  against  a  boulder, 
he  thus  calmly  sat  amid  the  bullet-rain 
and  resumed  his  inspiriting  march — the 
"Cock  o*  the  North." 

In  this  rush  at  Dargai  the  gallant  Gor- 
dons lost  many  of  their  number — officers 


and  men — in  killed  and  wounded,  but,  un- 
dismayed, they  stood  the  fatal,  fiery  test. 
They  reached  the  shelter  of  the  foot  of 
the  heights,  then,  followed  by  the  Ghur- 
kas  and  others,  they  scaled  the  hill,  turn- 
ing its  holders'  flank  and  toppling  them 
over  the  other  side;  and  soon  thereafter 
they  were  clustering  round  their  brave 
colonel,  who  had  led  them  to  the  top, 
cheering  him  to  the  echo. 

No  wonder  that  both  he  and  his  heroic 
piper  were  recommended  for  the  Victoria 
Cross;  no  wonder  that,  on  again  descend- 
ing the  hill,  tenderly  bearing  their  own 
wounded  and  dead,  as  well  as  those  of  the 
Ghurkas,  they  received  a  loud,  admiring 
cheer  from  all  the  other  regiments;  no 
wonder  that,  a  little  later,  General  Lock- 
hart  publicly  thanked  the  regiment  on 
parade,  saying,  "  Your  records  testify  to 
many  a  gallant  action,  and  you  have  added 
another  to  it  which  may  worthily  rank  be- 
side those  which  have  gone  before." 

"Bravo,  Gordon  Highlanders! '\  ran  a 
telegram  from  England;  "on  your  return 
you  will  storm  all  London!  " 


THE    GAY    GORDONS. 

(Dargai,  October  20,  1897.) 


By  Henry  Newbolt. 


Who's  for  the  Gathering,  who's  for  the 
Fair  ? 
( Gay  goes  the  Gordon  to  a  fight) 
The  bravest  of  the  brave  are  at  dead- 
lock there, 
(Highlanders  !  march  /  by  the  right!) 
There  are  bullets  by  the  hundred  buz- 
zing in  the. air, 
There  are  bonny  lads  lying  on  the  hill- 
side bare; 
But  the  Gordons  know  what  the  Gor- 
dons dare 
When  they  hear  the  pipers  playing! 


II. 


The  happiest  English  heart  to-day 

(Gay  goes  the  Gordon  to  a  fight) 
Is  the  heart  of  the  Colonel,  hide  it  as  he 
may; 
(Steady  there  !  steady  on  the  right  /) 
He   sees    his   work   and    he   sees    the 

way, 
He  knows  his  time  and  the  word  to 

say, 
And  he's  thinking  of  the  tune  that  the 
Gordons  play 
When  he  sets  the  pipers  playing! 


III. 

Rising,  roaring,  rushing  like  the  tide, 

(Gay  goes  the  Gordon  to  a  fight) 
They're  up  through  the  fire-zone,  not  to  be  denied; 

( Bayonets  /  and  charge  !  by  the  right !) 
Thirty  bullets  straight  where  the  rest  went  wide, 
And  thirty  lads  are  lying  on  the  bare  hillside; 
But  they  passed  in  the  hour  of  the  Gordons'  pride, 

To  the  skirl  of  the  pipers'  playing. 

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A    ROMANCE    OF    WALL    STREET. 


THE  GRANT  AND  WARP  FAILURE. 


By  Hamlin  Garland. 


Author  of  "  Main-Traveled  Roads/'  "  Prairie  Folks,"  etc. 


OMETIME  about  the  year  1877 
a  slim  young  man  with  a  pale 
and  meager  face  applied  to 
the  superintendent  of  the  New 
York  Produce  Exchange  for 
a  position.  He  based  his  ap- 
plication upon  the  fact  that 
the  superintendent  had  known  his  father 
in  an  interior  town  years  before.  The 
superintendent  recalled  the  young  man 
as  the  son  of  an  excellent  father,  a  .re- 
turned missionary,  and,  being  well-dis- 
posed toward  him,  secured  for  him  the 
clerkship  of  the  Exchange  at  a  salary  of 
$1,000  a  year.     The  superintendent    was 


Mr.  S.  II.  Grant,  and  the  young  clerk  was 
Ferdinand  Ward.  Mr.  S.  H.  Grant  was 
not  related  in  anv  degree  to  General 
U.  S.  Grant. 

Ward  filled  his  position  acceptably,  and 
had  time  to  figure  various  speculative  op- 
portunities besides.  At  that  time  seats  in 
the  Exchange  were  rated  low,  and,  seeing 
an  upward  tendency  in  business,  young 
Ward  began  buying  these  seats  as  fast  as 
he  was  able  to  raise  the  money,  and  sold 
them  at  a  profit.  He  went  into  a  number 
of  speculations,  all  of  which  turned  out 
profitably.  He  became  acquainted  with 
the  daughter  of  the  cashier  of  the  Marine 


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A   ROMANCE  OF   WALL  STREET. 


499 


National  Bank,  and  wooed  and  married 
her.  He  made  acquaintances  rapidly,  and 
turned  casual  associations  into  friendships, 
one  of  the  most  valuable  of  his  friendships 
being  with  Mr.  J.  D.  Fish,  president  of  the 
Marine  National  Bank. 

Sometime  in  1879,  through  his  brother 
William,  Ward  met  Ulysses  Grant,  the 
second  son  of  General  Grant,  who  had  es- 
tablished himself  with  a  law  firm  in  New 
York  city.  U.  S.  Grant,  Jr.,  had  charge  of 
General  Grant's  property,  of  two  trust  es- 
tates, and  also  of  other  funds.  Mr.  Ward 
at  once  asked  him  to  go  into  some  specu- 
lations with  him,  and  set  forth  the  safety 
of  an  investment  in  flqur  certificates,  which 
his  position  as  clerk  of  the  Exchange  gave 
him  special  insight  into.  Young  Grant 
allowed  Ward  to  use  some  money  in  this 
way,  and  the  venture  proved  successful. 
Ward  then  interested  him  in  the  scheme  of 
buying  seats  in  the  Produce  Exchange,  and 
holding  them  against  the  coming  boom, 
and  young  Grant  found  his  bank  account 
growing  with  gratifying  rapidity,  and  was 
able  to  report  to  General  Grant,  who  was 
in  Europe,  in  the  most  satisfactory  phrases. 
He  was  not  yet  a  formal  partner,  how- 
ever; the  association  thus  far  being  merely 
for  the  individual  enterprises  in  hand.  The 
time  came  when  Ward  owed  Grant  on 
borrowed  money  a  very  considerable  sum 
— nearly  $100,000.  At  this  point  he  pro- 
posed that  a  private  banking  firm  be  or 
ganized  to  do  a  regular  Wall  Street  busi- 
ness, in  which  he  was  to  be  financial  agent. 
In  this  firm  J.  D.  Fish,  president  of  the 
Marine  Bank,  was  to  be  a  silent  partner. 
Young  Grant  at  first  declined,  but  upon 
the  urging  of  Ward  and  the  assurance  that 
Mr.  Fish  was  coming  in,  finally  consented. 

This  was  in  1880.  At  that  time  Ward 
was  regarded  as  the  most  brilliant  young 
business  man  on  the  street.  His  office 
was  the  meeting-place  of  the  most  trusted 
and  influential  men  of  affairs,  and  his 
standing  was  of  the  highest.  Every  ven- 
ture he  had  commended  had  succeeded, 
and  Grant  would  have  been  a  singular 
exception  had  he  refused  to  go  further  with 
such  a  financier,  especially  as  the  presi- 
dent of  the  Marine  Bank  was  to  be  a  spe- 
cial partner  in  the  firm.  Meanwhile 
young  Ulysses  had  married  a  daughter  of 
Senator  Chaffee  of  Colorado,  and  through 
this  connection  the  Senator  became  an  in- 
vestor with  Grant  and  Ward. 

The  firm  of  Grant  and  Ward  at  once 
took  high  rank.  Bradstreet  rated  it 
M  Gilt-edged,"  and  its  credit  was  unques- 
tioned.     When    in    1880   General    Grant 


had  been  defeated  for  a  third  nomina- 
tion to  the  Presidency,  the  question  of 
engaging  in  some  business  arose.  He 
refused  the  presidency  of  the  Nicaraguan 
Canal,  but  he  accepted  the  presidency  of 
the  Mexican  Southern  Railway,  on  the* 
understanding  that  he  was  not  to  receive 
any  salary  or  any  stock.  He  had  plenty 
of  opportunities  to  allow  the  use  of  his 
name,  but  his  deep  interest  in  Mexico, 
which  sprang  from  his  early  life  there,  was 
more  powerful  than  any  offer  of  money. 
He  moved  to  New  York  to  be  near  his 
sons,  Ulysses  and  Jesse  R.  Grant,  and 
soon  afterward  put  all  his  savings  (about 
$100,000)  into  the  firm  of  Grant  and  Ward, 
on  condition  that  he  was  to  be  a  special 
partner,  liable  only  for  the  money  he  put  in. 

General  Grant's  office  as  president  of  the 
Mexican  Railroad  was  in  a  building  on  the 
corner  of  Wall  Street  and  Broadway,  the 
first  floor  of  which  was  occupied  by  Grant 
and  Ward.  The  firm  was  now  composed 
of  Ferdinand  Ward,  J.  D.  Fish,  and  Gen- 
eral Grant  and  his  son  Ulysses.  Ward 
was  the  financial  agent  and  sole  manager. 
The  General  had  no  detailed  knowledge  of 
the  business,  and  asked  for  none.  He  left 
the  whole  matter  to  his  son  Ulysses,  who, 
in  turn,  trusted  Ward  with  the  entire  finan- 
cial management.  Thus  Ward  had  com- 
plete control;  but  in  offset  to  this  he  said 
he  was  willing  to  guarantee  the  firm 
against  loss.  So  phenomenally  successful 
did  he  prove  both  in  the  firm  of  Grant  and 
Ward  and  also  in  his  outside  speculations, 
that  great  business  firms  trusted  themselves 
as  completely  in  his  hands  as  did  the 
Grants.  J.  D.  Fish,  president  of  the 
Marine  Bank,  backed  him  to  any  amount; 
and  Mr.  S.  H.  Grant,  the  city  comptrol- 
ler, and  Mr.  Tappan,  city  chamberlain, 
and  Mr.  W.  R.  Grace,  Mr.  W.  S.  War- 
ner, Senator  Chaffee,  and  many  others 
were  equally  trustful.  In  addition  to  its 
fine  credit,  the  firm  started  with  a  paid-in 
capital  of  $400,000.* 

It  was  a  time  of  "  boom;  "  that  should 
be  remembered.  Railways  were  building; 
the  new  lands  of  Kansas,  Nebraska,  and 
Dakota  were  being  opened  up.  Specula- 
tion was  universal.  Fortunes  were  made 
in  a  day — almost  in  an  hour — and  men 
were  prepared  to  believe  any  sort  of  ro- 
mance which  concerned  itself  with  rail- 
ways or  buildings.  The  way  was  prepared 
for  a  man  like  Ward,  who  had  an  uncanny 
power  over  men.  His  words  were  golden, 
and  his  daily  life  a  fairy-tale  of  speculation. 

*  As  was  afterward  developed,  the  Grants  furnished  the 
cash  and  the  other  members  of  the  firm  the  "  securities." 


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A  ROMANCE  OF   WALL  STREET. 


At  Ward's  suggestion,  young  Ulysses, 
early  in  the  deal,  offered  to  pay  to  Gen- 
eral Grant  $3,000  per  month  for  the  use  of 
his  money,  but  gave  him  the  option  of 
leaving  it  in  the  business  if  he  wished.  To 
£his  the  General  replied:  "  I  don't  think  I 
can  afford  to  do  that.  If  you  don't  make 
that  much,  I  don't  want  you  to  make  up 
the  deficit;  and  if  you  make  more,  it  is 
rightfully  mine.  I  would  rather  you  paid 
me  what  my  money  brings  in,  be  it  a  small 
sum  or  a  large  one."  Ward's  method  was 
not  to  advertise  much,  "merely  to  let  a 
few  friends  know  "  that  the  firm  was  do- 
ing an  exceedingly  profitable  business  by 
loaning  money  to  men  who  had  contracts. 
He  was  careful  to  say  to  General  Grant 
and  his  sons  that  the  firm  was  not  hand- 
ling any  contracts  with  the  Government, 
and  warned  Mr.  Spencer,  his  cashier,  to 
be  careful  about  that  also. 

The  regular  transactions  of  the  firm, 
and  the  only  ones  appearing  in  the  books 
to  which  the  Grants  had  access,  were  of  a 
different  nature,  like  loaning  money  to  the 
Erie  Railway,  purchases  of  city  bonds, 
and  other  equally  safe  and  stable  invest- 
ments. These  loans  gave  tone  to  the  firm 
and  inspired  confidence.  "  It  is  my  plan," 
said  Ward,  "  to  build  up  a  great  firm  that 
shall  live  after  Grant  and  Ward,  its 
founders,  have  passed  away." 

Ward  was  a  man  of  most  exemplary  life. 
He  lived  well,  but  quietly,  and  had  no  bad 
habits.  He  seemed  a  thoughtful  man,  and 
his  peculiarities  apparently  marked  him 
as  a  man  born  with  a  special  genius  for 
great  financial  enterprises.  He  seemed  to 
be  capable  of  the  most  colossal  affairs, 
and  men  of  the  highest  business  qualifica- 
tions shared  in  this  belief.  In  these  days 
it  would  be  said  his  influence  was  hypnotic. 

In  this  fashion  the  firm  swam  prosper- 
ously on.  U.  S.  Grant,  Jr.,  received  oc- 
casional statements  from  Ward,  which  he 
laid  before  his  father.  These  papers  the 
General  returned  without  examination, 
for  he  had  arrived  at  unquestioning  faith 
in  his  son's  business  ability.  Profits  had 
been  large.  The  firm,  from  operations  in 
stocks,  bonds,  and  railway  contracts,  soon 
had  a  bank  account  of  nearly  a  million 
dollars,  and  handled  vast  sums  of  money. 
From  a  capital  of  $400,000,  the  firm,  in  a 
little  more  than  three  years,  was  rated  at 
fifteen  millions.  Ferdinand  Ward,  in  his 
own  fashion,  outside  the  firm  of  Grant  and 
Ward,  had  entered  upon  the  most  gigantic 
enterprises,  apparently  with  unfailing  suc- 
cess. Of  these  outside  ventures  the 
Grants  knew  nothing.     Ulysses  Grant,  Jr., 


had  access  only  to  the  one  set  of  books 
wherein  the  Wall  Street  business  was  re- 
corded. He  knew  scarcely  a  tenth  of 
Ward's  investors.  He  did  not  know  that 
his  own  law  partners  were  interested  in 
Ward's  affairs.  The  record  of  the  huge 
debts  of  the  firm  was  in  books  kept  secret 
by  Ward  and  Fish. 

One  Sunday  afternoon  in  early  May, 
1884,  Ward  called  at  General  Grant's  house 
and  asked  to  see  both  the  General  and 
young  Ulysses.  He  announced  that  late 
on  Saturday  Mr.  Tappan,  the  city  cham- 
berlain, had  drawn  on  the  Marine  Bank 
for  a  very  large  sum  which  the  bank  held 
on  deposit  for  the  city,  and  that  the  bank's 
reserve  was  perilously  low.  "It  is  neces- 
sary," said  he,  "to  put  some  money  in 
before  the  clearing-house  opens  to-morrow 
morning,  in  order  that  the  bank  may  make 
a  proper  showing." 

To  this  young  Grant  very  naturally 
replied:  "Why  should  we  borrow  money 
to  aid  the  Marine  Bank  ? " 

Ward  for  a  moment  seemed  puzzled,  but 
answered  after  a  moment's  hesitation: 
"  We  have  $760,000  on  deposit  there,  and 
it  would  embarrass  us  very  much  if  the 
bank  should  close  its  doors." 

"  They  are  good  for  it,  are  they  not  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  but  there  would  be  delay 
before  we  could  get  our  money,  and  it 
might  give  us  trouble." 

Having  convinced  them  both  of  the 
need  of  aiding  the  bank,  Ward  at  last 
proposed  that  General  Grant  go  out  and 
borrow  $150,000.  Young  Grant  said  that 
it  was  not  easy  to  raise  such  a  sum  on  Sun- 
day afternoon,  and  to  this  Ward  replied: 
"I  know  that;  but  I  know  the  General 
can  borrow  it  if  anybody  can." 

The  General  at  length  consented  to  go 
forth  in  aid  of  the  Marine  Bank.  After 
calling  upon  one  or  two  men  who  declared 
themselves  unable  to  help  him,  he  drove 
to  the  house  of  W.  H.  Vanderbilt,  and  ex- 
plained the  matter  to  Mr.  Vanderbilt  at 
length.  It  was  not  for  himself,  but  for 
the  Marine  Bank,  he  said  in  conclusion. 

Mr.  Vanderbilt  took  young  Grant's  view 
of  it.  "I  care  nothing  about  the  Marine 
Bank,  General  Grant.  To  tell  the  truth, 
I  care  very  little  about  Grant  and  Ward; 
but  to  accommodate  you  personally,  I  will 
draw  my  check  for  the  amount  you  ask. 
I  consider  it  a  personal  loan  to  you,  and 
not  to  any  other  party,"  he  said  pointedly. 

General  Grant  took  the  check,  and  re- 
turned to  Ward,  who  was  waiting.  Ward 
thanked  him,  and  putting  the  check  in  his 
pocket,  left  the  house.      The  next  morn- 


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A   ROMANCE  OF   WALL  STREET. 


5°" 


ing,  before  the  banks  opened,  young 
Grant  called  for  a  check  drawn  on  the 
Marine  Bank  for  the  full  amount,  and  hur- 
ried with  it  up  to  Mr.  Vanderbilt's  house, 
eager  to  pay  the  debt  at  the  earliest 
moment.  He  found  Mr.  Vanderbilt  at 
home,  and  delivered  the  check  into  his 
hands.  Both  men  considered  the  debt  thereby 
paid,  and  the  whole  transaction  closed, 

Monday  saw  everything  righted.  There 
was  no  further  trouble,  and  the  Grants 
dismissed  the  incident  from  their  minds. 
Once,  late  in  the  afternoon,  as  Ward 
passed  through  the  room,  Ulysses  Grant, 
Jr.,  asked,  ''Everything  all  right?"  and 
Ward  replied  cheerily,  "All  right  now." 
But  that  night  after  dinner  a  messenger 
came  to  young  Grant  from  Ward,  saying 
that  Tappan  had  drawn  again,  and  that  it 
would  be  necessary  to  borrow  $500,000. 
*  *  1*11  try  for  $250,000;  and  you  do  the 
same." 

Grant  was  a  little  irritated  at  the  de- 
mand, and  for  a  moment  determined  to 
make  no  further  attempt  to  help  the  Marine 
Bank  out  of  its  distress.  However,  after 
thought,  he  concluded  to  see  what  could 
be  done,  and  taking  a  list  of  negotiable 
securities  which  Ward  had  sent  by  the 
messenger,  he  went  to  Jay  Gould,  and 
presented  the  matter. 

Mr.  Gould  curtly  replied:  "  I  don't  like 
lending  on  those  securities,"  and  young 
Grant  concluded  to  do  no  more  borrowing 
for  the  Marine  Bank.  He  went  to  S.  B. 
Elkins,  however,  and  explained  the  situa- 
tion. Mr.  Elkins,  who  was  Senator 
Chaffee's  attorney,  seemed  a  little  bit  puz- 
zled over  the  case.  "  I  don't  understand 
this.  Suppose  we  go  over  to  Brooklyn 
and  see  Ward." 

Ward  was  out,  but  they  decided  to  wait 
for  him,  although  it  was  nearly  midnight. 
The  servants  were  directed  by  Mrs.  Ward 
to  set  out  some  cake  and  wine,  and  the 
two  men  remained  seated  in  the  dining- 
room  till  after  midnight,  waiting  with 
growing  anxiety  for  Ward.  It  was  well 
towards  one  in  the  morning  when  Ward 
suddenly  and  noiselessly  entered  by  a  side 
door.  He  was  calm  and  very  self-con- 
tained. He  explained  his  absence  by  say- 
ing he  had  been  to  see  some  capitalists. 
He  said  he  had  not  been  able  to  raise  any 
money,  but  he  did  not  seem  specially  disap- 
pointed at  his  own  or  his  partner's  failure 
to  borrow  the  sums  needed.  All  agreed 
that  the  Marine  Bank  must  needs  take 
care  of  itself. 

Mr.  Elkins,  however,  as  attorney  for 
Senator  Chaffee,    who   was    one    of    the 


largest  creditors  of  the  firm  of  Grant  and 
Ward,  demanded,  on  his  client's  behalf, 
to  be  secured.  Ward  said,  "  Very  well;  " 
but  added,  "I  don't  see  the  need  when 
Senator  Chaffee  can  have  his  money  at  any 
time  on  demand." 

Mr.  Elkins  insisted,  and  Ward  promised 
to  be  at  the  office  early  the  next  morning 
to  turn  over  sufficient  securities  to  cover 
the  whole  amount  of  the  Senator's  invest- 
ment. Upon  this,  young  Grant  and  Elkins 
took  their  departure,  but  all  the  way 
across  the  city  Elkins  discussed  Ward's 
manner.  "  The  whole  thing  is  suspicious. 
Did  you  observe  he  had  his  slippers  on  ? 
He  was  in  the  house  all  the  time,  and  was 
afraid  to  come  down  and  see  us.  Why 
should  he  enter  at  the  side  door  ?  " 

Grant  stoutly  thrust  aside  these  suspi- 
cions. .  His  faith  was  unshaken.  Early 
the  next  morning  Mr.  Elkins  and  young 
Ulysses  hastened  to  the  office.  Ward  was 
not  there. 

"  Where  is  Ward  ?  "  asked  young  Grant 
of  Spencer,  the  cashier. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Spencer.  "  I 
came  by  the  house  this  morning,  and  when 
I  rang  the  bell,  Mrs.  Ward  came  down 
much  excited,  and  said  Ferdinand  had 
gone  out  early,  leaving  a  note  to  the  effect 
that  the  bank  would  fail  to-day,  and  that 
he  would  not  be  home.  She  seemed  afraid 
that  he  was  about  to  commit  suicide,  and 
wanted  me  to  go  and  look  for  him." 

Colonel  Fred  Grant  came  out  of  an  in- 
ner office  at  this  moment,  and  said  that 
Mr.  Fish  had  been  in,  much  excited,  to 
say  that  Grant  and  Ward's  accounts  were 
all  overdrawn,  and  that  he  would  not  cer- 
tify or  pay  any  more  of  the  firm's  checks. 

Young  Ulysses  was  amazed.  "That 
can't  be,"  he  said.  "We  have  over 
$600,000  on  deposit  there.  Is  not  that  the 
sum,  Mr.  Spencer?" 

The  cashier  brought  the  books;  $660,000 
was  the  exact  amount. 

"  Make  a  test  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Elkins. 
"  Draw  a  check,  and  send  it  over  to  the 
bank." 

This  was  done,  and  in  a  short  time  the 
messenger  returned  to  say  that  the  officers 
of  the  bank,  by  order  of  Mr.  Fish,  refused 
to  pay  the  check,  and  stated  that  they 
could  honor  no  more  Grant  and  Ward 
checks. 

This  was  startling  news,  but  even  then 
young  Grant  did  not  realize  its  full  import. 
He  knew  of  but  one  interest  that  was 
suffering  at  this  time,  that  of  Mr.  Chaffee; 
and  when  Mr.  Elkins  insisted  on  being 
secured,  there  was  but  one  thing  to  do — 

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502 


A  ROMANCE  OF   WALL  STREET. 


carry  out  Ward's  promise  of  the  night  be- 
fore, and  open  the  strong  box  in  which 
millions  of  securities  had  been  deposited. 
Ward  held  the  key  of  this  box,  but  the 
moment  demanded  heroic  measures.  The 
box  was  forced  open,  and  found  to  contain 
only  papers  of  doubtful  value,  amount- 
ing even  on  their  face  to  less  than 
$400,000. 

While  the  others  still  stood  aghast  at 
this  discovery,  Spencer,  who  had  been  lis- 
tening at  a  ticker,  came  in  and  announced 
in  fateful  voice,  "The  Marine  Bank  has 
closed  its  doors."  With  profound  convic- 
tion in  his  face,  he  turned  to  young 
Grant:  "This  carries  Grant  and  Ward 
down  also." 

"I  don't  see  that,"  replied  Grant. 
"  The  loss  of  $600,000  will  cramp  us,  but 
it  won't  break  us." 

He  was  soon  undeceived.  Instead  of 
being  worth  $15,000,000,  with  an  enor- 
mous bank  account,  he  and  his  friends 
found  themselves  without  a  dollar  and 
with  a  flood  of  demands  pouring  in  upon 
them. 

Just  when  matters  were  at  the  worst, 
the  General  himself  hobbled  slowly  into 
the  room.  He  was  still  disabled  from  a 
fall  on  the  ice  some  months  preceding  and 
used  his  crutches.  "  Well, '  Buck,'  how  is 
it  ?  "  he  cheerily  asked. 

The  son,  his  head  still  ringing  with  the 
blow  which  had  fallen  upon  him,  replied 
harshly,  and  without  any  softening  words, 
"  Grant  and  Ward  have  failed,  and  Ward 
has  fled." 

For  a  few  seconds  the  old  warrior  faced 
the  people  of  the  office,  his  keen  eyes 
piercing  to  the  bottom  of  his  son's  anger 
and  despair.  Then  he  turned  slowly,  and 
without  the  quiver  of  a  muscle  and  with- 
out a  single  word,  left  the  room  and  as- 
cended slowly  to  his  own  office,  to  be  seen 
no  more  in  the  office  of  Grant  and  Ward. 
About  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  how- 
ever, he  sent  for  Spencer,  the  cashier,  to 
come  up  and  see  him.  As  the  young  man 
entered  the  room,  he  found  the  General 
seated  close  to  his  desk,  both  hands  con- 
vulsively clasping  the  arms  of  his  chair. 
His  head  was  bowed,  and  the  muscles  of 
his  face  and  arms  twitched  nervously  as 
he  said:  "  Spencer,  how  is  it  that  man  has 
deceived  us  all  in  this  way  ?  " 

Even  as  Spencer  tried  to  speak,  the 
General  did  not  look  up;  in  fact,  the  young 
man's  stammering  attempt  to  answer 
seemed  not  to  interrupt  the  current  of  the 
General's  thought.  He  went  on  speaking. 
"I  had  not  the  least  idea  that  Ward  was 


concerned  in  government  contracts.  I 
told  him  at  the  beginning  that  I  could  not 
be  connected  with  the  firm  if  he  was  going 
into  any  business  with  the  government. 
I  supposed  the  contracts  he  spoke  of  were 
railway  contracts."  He  went  on  for  sev- 
eral minutes  with  an  explanation,  to  which 
Spencer  made  no  reply.  He  was  evidently 
suffering  the  keenest  mental  anguish,  and 
the  cashier  would  gladly  have  uttered  some 
word  of  comfort,  but  was  himself  too  deeply 
moved  and  bewildered  to  do  so.  Finding 
Spencer  as  ignorant  of  it  all  as  the  rest  of 
them,  the  General  became  silent,  and  the 
young  man  withdrew,  leaving  him  seated 
with  bowed  head  in  the  same  position  in 
which  he  had  found  him. 

Without  Ward,  it  was  impossible  to  tell 
what  the  firm  owned  or  what  it  owed. 
Claims  developed  of  which  U.  S.  Grant, 
Jr.,  had  no  knowledge,  and  which  did  not 
appear  on  the  open  books  of  the  firm. 
The  excitement  on  the  street  was  very 
great.  Investors  with  whom  the  Grants 
had  no  dealings  whatever  clamored  to  be 
secured.  Great  pressure  was  brought 
upon  young  Grant  to  make  an  assignment 
in  favor  of  certain  creditors,  but  he  re- 
fused. So  the  day  wore  on.  At  the  end 
it  was  apparent  that  Grant  and  Ward  were 
hopelessly  involved,  and  that  every  dollar 
possessed  by  General  Grant  was  swept 
away. 

On  Wednesday,  U.  S.  Grant,  Jr.,  went 
down  to  the  office,  but  Ward  did  not  ap- 
pear. The  papers  had  immense  headlines, 
and  all  sorts  of  charges  and  insinuations 
were  in  type.  Creditors  called,  saying 
that  the  bonds  given  to  them  for  security 
by  Ward  had  been  rehypothecated.  Some 
of  these  men  covertly  threatened  young 
Ulysses.  He  could  only  reply:  "I  pre- 
sume what  you  say  is  true.  I  know  nothing 
about  it.  I  can't  do  anything  about  it. 
All  I  can  say  is,  you'll  find  me  here  during 
business  hours  and  at  my  house  there- 
after." He  was  ready  to  answer  to  any 
call. 

The  entire  Grant  family  were  in  singular 
straits.  Every  cent  of  ready  money  was 
gone,  and  many  bills  for  which  checks  had 
been  given  weeks  before  to  butchers  and 
bakers,  who  had  neglected  to  cash  them, 
came  up  now  a  second  time  for  payment. 
The  General  and  Ulysses,  Jr.,  found  them- 
selves actually  in  need  of  money  for  daily 
necessities.  Mrs.  Grant  ordered  her 
Washington  house  to  be  sold,  and  that 
formed  the  fund  upon  which  the  entire 
family  lived.  They  sold  horses  and  car- 
riages, and  prepared  to  move  into  cheaper 


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A  ROMANCE  OF  WALL  STREET. 


5°3 


houses.  Young  Ulysses  still  refused  to 
make  any  assignment  or  prefer  any  credit- 
ors. 

The  General  was  visited  on  Thursday 
night  by  representatives  of  Mr.  Vander- 
bilt,  who  wished  to  be  secured  upon  his 
loan  of  the  Sunday  preceding.  He  looked 
to  General  Grant  for  his  money. 

•'  You're  quite  right,"  said  the  General. 
"  It  was  an  individual  loan,  and  I  am 
having  papers  drawn  up  to  secure  Mr. 
Vanderbilt  so  far  as  possible." 

General  Grant  now  cast  about  to  see 
how  he  could  pay  this  individual  debt, 
which  he  regarded  as  an  affair  of  honor. 
He  deeded  to  Vanderbilt  the  farm  on  the 
Gravois,  near  St.  Louis,  which  was  worth 
$60,000;  a  house  in  Philadelphia,  some 
property  in  Chicago,  and  all  his  personal 
property.  In  order  to  bring  the  sum  up 
to  the  full  amount,  the  old  warrior  turned 
over  all  his  military  trophies — all  the 
swords  presented  to  him  by  citizens  and 
soldiers,  the  superb  caskets  given  to  him 
by  the  officials  of  the  cities  through  which 
he  had  passed  on  his  way  around  the  world, 
all  the  curious  and  exquisite  souvenirs  of 
China  and  Japan.     He  spared  nothing. 

Many  of  the  papers  criticized  General 
Grant  freely  for  going  into  the  firm.  Some 
of  them  covertly  exulted,  and  insinuated 
that  he  was  attempting  to  draw  out  of  the 
wreck,  retaining  his  immense  profits.  In- 
vestors clamored,  charging  that  his  name 
had  been  used  to  draw  them  into  the  firm; 
that  Ward  had  claimed  to  have  govern- 
ment contracts  obtained  through  the  use 
of  General  Grant's  name.  These  things 
cut  deep  into  the  proud  old  warrior's 
heart;  but,  as  his  habit  was,  he  set  his 
lips  in  a  grim  line,  and  was  silent,  so  far 
as  the  outside  world  was  concerned.  Once, 
however,  he  opened  his  heart  to  a  friend. 
Late  one  night,  after  he  had  signed  away 
all  he  possessed  to  his  creditors,  he  sat 
alone  with  his  lawyer.  As  he  went  all 
over  the  action,  and  thought  of  Ward's 
cunning  in  securing  that  final  check,  his 
emotion  became  visible  in  an  unusual  rest- 
lessness of  eye  and  limb.  At  last  he  rose, 
and  began  hobbling  on  his  crutches  up  and 
down  the  room.  When  he  spoke  at  last, 
it  was  in  semi-soliloquy,  as  though  he 
had  almost  forgotten  the  presence  of  his 
friend: 

"  I  have  made  it  the  rule  of  my  life  to 
trust  a  man  long  after  other  people  gave 
him  up;  but  I  don't  see  how  I  can  ever 
trust  any  human  being  again." 

The  worst  was  yet  to  come.  A  letter 
was  given  to  the  public  press  by  Fish,  the 


president  of  the  failed  bank,  which  appar- 
ently connected  Grant  directly  with  the 
methods  of  Ward.  To  save  himself  from 
condemnation,  Fish  now  claimed  to  have 
been  a  victim,  asserting  that  two  years 
before  he  had  written  to  General  Grant 
asking  to  be  assured  about  the  firm.  In 
this  letter,  after  speaking  in  a  general  way 
of  the  fact  that  he  saw  very  little  of  Gen- 
eral Grant,  and  suggesting  that  it  was  ad- 
visable to  consult  together,  Mr.  Fish  went 
on  to  say:  "  I  have  often  been  asked  by 
friends  and  business  men  whether  you  and 
I  were  general  or  special  partners.  We 
were  for  a  while  advertised  as  special 
partners,  but  I  think  we  are  virtually  and 
actually  general  partners.  I  think  legally 
we  would  find  that  to  be  our  status."  He 
then  spoke  of  a  note  enclosed  from  the 
president  of  the  Lincoln  National  Bank, 
and  continued:  "You  may  be  aware  that 
I  am  on  the  notes  of  Grant  and  Ward  as 
an  endorser,  which  I  have  discounted  my- 
self, and  have  had  to  get  negotiated  to 
the  extent  of  some  $200,000  in  the  aggre- 
gate, at  the  same  and  at  one  time,  which  is 
not  a  trifling  amount  to  me.  It  is  necessary 
that  the  credit  of  Grant  and  Ward  should 
deservedly  stand  very  high.  These  notes, 
as  I  understand  it,  are  given  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  raise  money  for  the  pay- 
ment for  grain,  etc.,  purchased  to  fill  gov- 
ernment contracts.  Under  the  circum- 
stances, my  dear  General,  you  will  see  that 
it  is  of  most  vital  importance  to  me  par- 
ticularly that  the  credit  of  the  firm  shall 
always  be  untarnished  and  unimpaired.  I 
will  be  most  happy  to  meet  at  almost  any 
time  you  may  name  to  talk  these  matters 
over.  Please  return  me  President  James's 
letter  at  your  convenience,  with  any  sug- 
gestions you  may  have  to  make." 

The  answer  to  this  letter  as  put  forth 
by  Fish  was  indubitably  in  the  handwriting 
of  General  Grant.  It  was  a  more  or  less 
complete  answer  to  the  letter  above. 

"  My  Dear  Mr.  Fish  : 

44  On  my  arrival  in  the  city  this  morning,  I  find 
your  letter  of  yesterday  with  a  letter  from  Thomas  L. 
James,  president  of  Lincoln  National  Bank,  and  copy 
of  your  reply  to  the  letter.  Your  understanding  in 
regard  to  our  liabilities  in  the  firm  of  Grant  and 
Ward  are  the  same  as  mine.  If  you  desire  it,  I  am 
entirely  willing  that  the  advertisement  of  the  firm 
shall  be  so  changed  as  to  express  this.  Not  having 
been  in  the  city  for  more  than  a  week,  I  have  found 
a  large  accumulated  mail  to  look  over  and  some  busi- 
ness appointments  to  meet,  so  that  I  may  not  be  able 
to  get  down  to  see  you  to-day  *  but  if  I  can,  I  will 
go  there  before  three  o'clock. 

44  Very  truly  yours, 

44  U.  S.  Grant." 


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There  was  also  put  out  a  second  answer 
to  this  letter,  more  valuable  as  a  defense 
to  Messrs.  Ward  and  Fish  than  the  other: 

**  My  Dear  Mr.  Fish  : 

"  In  relation  to  the  matter  of  discounts  kindly  made 
by  you  for  account  of  Grant  and  Ward,  I  would  say 
that  I  think  the  investments  are  safe,  and  I  am  will- 
ing that  Mr.  Ward  should  derive  what  profit  he  can 
for  the  firm  that  the  use  of  my  name  and  influence 
may  bring." 

This  was  signed  apparently  in  General 
Grant's  own  hand,  and  upon  it  the  detract- 
ors of  Grant  fell  with  joy.  It  was  photo- 
lithographed  and  sent  throughout  the 
country.  The  signature  was  to  all  appear- 
ance genuine;  the  body  of  the  letter  was 
written  in  another  hand.  Action  had  al- 
ready begun  against  Fish,  and  this  letter 
became  important  evidence. 

In  March  of  the  following  year  the  tes- 
timony of  General  Grant  was  demanded. 
He  was  unable  to  leave  his  room — was  in- 
deed almost  at  the  point  of  death — and  the 
counsel  for  Fish  went  to  the  attorney  for 
the  Grants  and  expressed  the  deepest  re- 
gret that  the  trial  should  come  up  at  a 
time  when  the  General  was  so  ill,  and  sug- 
gested its  postponement.  But  Grant's  at- 
torney, knowing  well  the  temper  of  the 
General,  said,  "  No.  Let  the  trial  go  on. 
General  Grant  is  ready  to  testify." 

General  Grant's  deposition  was  taken  in 
the  room  of  his  house  on  Sixty-sixth 
Street.  He  stated  that  he  had  considered 
himself  merely  a  special  partner  in  the 
business  of  Grant  and  Ward,  liable  only 
for  his  investment.  He  did  not  remem- 
ber to  have  seen  Mr.  Fish's  letter.  He  did 
not  know  that  any  government  contracts 
were  handled,  and  he  had  no  knowledge 
that  his  name  was  being  used  to  induce 
others  to  invest  in  doubtful  speculations. 
When  the  alleged  letter  to  Fish  was 
placed  before  him,  he  examined  the  signa- 
ture closely,  and  said  that  it  was  undoubt- 
edly of  his  own  writing,  but  that  he  had 
no  knowledge  of  the  letter  itself.  He 
added,  that  in  the  course  of  a  long  execu- 
tive life  he  had  become  accustomed  to  affix 
his  signature  to  many  papers  without  read- 
ing them,  it  being  impossible  to  personally 
examine  everything  which  was  put  before 
him  to  sign. 

The  trial  developed  that  the  letter  was 
written,  at  Ward's  request,  by  Spencer 
the  cashier.  Spencer  remembered  the 
letter  perfectly,  for  the  reason  that  Ward 
brought  the  rough  draft  of  it  to  him  on 
a  pad  one  morning  in  the  midsummer  of 
1882.     It  had  many  corrections  and  inter- 


lineations for  so  short  a  letter,  and  that 
fact  aided  to  fix  the  matter  in  Mr.  Spen- 
cer's mind.  It  meant  nothing  unsigned; 
but  with  Grant's  signature  it  would  be 
very  serviceable,  and  Ward  had  turned  his 
attention  to  getting  it  signed.  He  after- 
wards confessed  to  Walter  S.  Johnston,  the 
receiver  of  the  Marine  Bank,*  that  he  had 
slipped  it  into  a  pile  of  other  letters,  and 
presenting  it  to  General  Grant  as  he  was 
hurrying  to  finish  his  mail  and  catch  a 
boat,  easily  procured  the  signature  with- 
out arousing  suspicion. 

Ward's  own  testimony  at  the  first  trial 
was  very  remarkable.  He  was  at  first 
broken  and  a  little  bewildered,  and  came 
to  the  stand  "  looking  like  a  man  suffer- 
ing from  loss  of  sleep.  His  face  was 
bloodless,  his  ears  seemed  to  hang  from 
his  head."  He  admitted  that  he  had  been 
insolvent  for  two  years.  \  He  was  unable 
to  t^ll  where  and  when  he  had  made  large 
purchases  of  real  estate,  such  as  Booth's 
Theater.  The  "  books  of  the  firm  "  were 
not  *'  the  books  of  the  office  " :  there  was  a 
difference.  The  "  books  of  the  firm  "  in- 
cluded books  which  the  Grants  had  never 
seen.  He  admitted  that  there  had  never 
been  any  contracts;  that  when  he  said 
"invested  in  a  contract,"  it  meant  that 
the  money  went  into  the  bank  as  his  per- 
sonal deposit.  He  did  not  remember  that 
he  had  ever  had  any  dealings  with  the  gov- 
ernment of  any  kind.  He  admitted  put- 
ting the  Vanderbilt  check  into  his  personal 
account.  He  admitted  having  paid  $3,000 
for  jewelry  on  the  22d  of  April,  but  he 
had  forgotten  to  whom  he  gave  it.  He 
had  no  contracts,  and  he  was  making  no 
such  profits  as  he  paid  to  investors.  Busi- 
ness was  transacted  in  the  name  of  Grant 
and  Ward,  but  no  one  transacted  it  but 
himself.  The  Grants  knew  nothing  about 
it.  His  method,  as  he  himself  deline- 
ated it,  was  to  borrow  large  sums  for  pre- 
tended investment,  set  aside  a  profit  out 
of  the  principal,  and  by  prompt  payment 
of  this  profit,  induce  the  lender  to  leave 
the  principal  in  his  hands.  He  deceived 
the  many  for  the  few,  and  these  few  were 
not  the  Grants.  He  was  uncertain  as  to 
what  became  of  immense  sums.  Some 
of  them  appeared  on  the  secret  book  he 
kept,  and  some  did  not.  In  a  later 
trial  this  singular  book  was  put  in  evi- 
dence. It  was  cabalistic  in  text.  No 
one  could  understand  it,  not  even  Ward 
himself. 

*  From  an  interview  with  Mr.  Johnston  for  McCnm«*s 
Magazine. 

t  Generalized  from  Ward's  testimony  before  Commis- 
sioner Cole. 


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Out  of  it  all  this  final  conclusion  was 
formed:  Ward  had  carried  on  the  most 
extraordinary  game  of  "bluff"  that  the 
nation  had  ever  seen — a  stupendous 
scheme  of  paying  profits  from  a  principal 
which  was  never  invested  or  which  went  to 
pay  some  clamorous  debtor;  a  "blind 
pool "  into  which  he  led  men  to  their  ruin 
and  ultimately  to  his  own  ruin.  He  was 
indicted  first  by  the  United  States  courts 
at  the  same  time  that  Fish  was  indicted. 
Fish  was  convicted  and  sentenced  to  seven 
years'  imprisonment.  Closely  following 
Fish's  conviction,  Ward  was  indicted  in 
the  State  court  for  grand  larceny,  con- 
victed, and  sentenced  to  prison  for  ten 
years.      The    judge    in    sentencing   Fish 


made  it  plain  that,  though  the  sentence 
might  be  lawfully  seven  times  seven,  out 
of  regard  for  his  gray  hairs  the  sentence 
was  not  made  cumulative. 

Out  of  this  deplorable  entanglement 
General  Grant  emerged  cleared,  so  far  as 
the  judgment  of  the  majority  of  his  fellow 
citizens  was  concerned,  of  any  knowledge 
of  the  business  which  Ward  conducted. 
There  were  those,  of  course,  who  were 
ready  to  believe  that  he  knew  of  the  use 
of  his  name,  and  that  he  shared  in  the 
profits.  It  is  probable  that  no  one  fully 
informed  in  the  facts  of  the  case  holds 
such  an  opinion  to-day.  Grant  was  the 
victim  of  over-confidence  in  a  shrewd  and 
ingratiating  adventurer. 


KING    FOR    A    DAY." 

By  W.  A.  Fraser. 


AS  you  walk  up  the  many  score  of  steps 
leading  to  the  Golden  Pagoda  in 
Rangoon,  and  come  out  upon  the  ce- 
mented flat  in  front  of  the  tapering  spire 
itself,  you  will  see  a  Burmese  temple  a 
little  to  the  right.  Among  other  gods 
rested  there  once  a  small  alabaster  figure 
of  Buddha,  stained  yellow,  and  with  a 
hideous  dragon-head;  but  it  is  not  there 
now.  And  because  of  that  alabaster  god, 
these  things  happened. 

Sir  Lemuel  Jones,  C.  I.  E.,  was  Chief 
Commissioner  of  Burma.  Lawrence  Jones, 
captain  of  the  "tramp"  steamer  "New- 
castle Maid,"  was  his  brother.  More 
than  that,  they  were  twins,  as  like  as  two 
drops  of  water.  It  was  kismet  that  Sir 
Lemuel  should  rise  to  be  Chief  Commis- 
sioner, while  it  was  Larry's  own  fault  that 
he  was  only  captain  of  a  freighter.  But 
they  both  enjoyed  themselves,  each  after 
his  kind. 

One  morning  in  November  the  "  New- 
castle Maid"  glided  up  the  Irawadi  and 
swung  to  moorings  just  off  the  main  wharf 
at  Rangoon.  Larry  had  not  seen  his 
brother  for  years;  and,  for  the  matter  of 
that,  did  not  care  if  many  more  years 
passed  before  he  saw  him.  Their  paths 
ran  at  right  angles.  He  was  there  for  a 
cargo  of  rice,  not  to  renew  family  ties. 

It  was  because  the  chief  engineer  of 
the  "Newcastle  Maid"  was  a  man  after 
his  own  heart  that  he  said,  before  going 
ashore:  "  I  don't  want  to  get  into  a  gale 
here,  for  I've  had  a  letter  from  the  owners 
over  that  last  break  I  made  in  Calcutta; 


if  I  come  off  seas  over,  just  lock  me  in 
the  cabin,  and  don't  let  me  out.  No 
matter  what  I  say,  keep  me  there  until 
I'm  braced  up." 

Then  the  captain  went  ashore.  "  I  want 
to  see  the  Golden  Pagoda,"  said  he,  as  he 
chartered  a  gharry. 

"Come  quickly,  I'm  waiting,"  whis- 
pered the  yellow  image  of  Buddha,  the 
alabaster  god,  in  his  ear.  It  was  there, 
in  the  funny  little  temple  all  decked  out 
with  Chinese  lanterns,  and  tinsel,  and  gro- 
tesque gods.  Straight  the  influence  led 
him  to  it — to  the  dragon-headed  god. 

Stealing  was  not  one  of  Larry's  vices, 
but  what  matters  man's  ways  when  the 
gods  are  running  his  life  for  him?  It 
scorched  his  fingers  when  he  touched  it; 
and  when  it  was  in  his  pocket  it  scorched 
his  mind.  The  demdn  of  impulse  took 
possession  of  the  captain.  "  I  must  do 
something,"  and  he  thought  of  the  usual 
routine — whisky.  It  held  out  no  pleasing 
prospect.  "  Something  else,  something 
else;  something  worthy  of  Captain  Jones," 
whispered  the  little  god. 

He  took  a  drive  out  through  the  can- 
tonments. As  he  bowled  along  in  the  old 
gharry  a  new  experience  came  to  him. 
Gentlemen  lifted  their  hats;  and  ladies 
driving  in  their  carriages  smiled  and  bowed 
in  the  most  gracious  manner. 

"I  wonder  if  there's  anything  sticking 
to  my  face,"  thought  Larry,  and  he 
passed  his  hand  carefully  over  its  rounded 
surface;  it  seemed  all  right. 

But  still  they  kept  it  up — everybody  he 


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'KING  FOR  A   DAY." 


met;  and  one  officer,  galloping  by  on  his 
pony,  took  a  pull  at  the  animal's  head  and 
shouted,  "  Are  you  coming  to  the  club  to- 
night, sir?  " 

"No!"  roared  the  captain;  for  he 
hadn't  the  faintest  idea  of  going  to  a  club 
without  an  invitation. 

"They'll  be  awfully  disappointed," 
came  the  echo  of  the  officer's  voice  as  the 
gharry  opened  up  a  gap  between  them. 

"Very  kind,"  muttered  Larry;  "  but  I 
fancy  they'll  get  over  it.  Must  have  taken 
me  for  somebody  else." 

And  the  dragon  grin  on  the  face  of  the 
alabaster  god  in  his  pocket  spread  out 
until  it  was  hideous  to  look  upon.  Larry 
didn't  see  this;  he  was  busy  staring  open- 
mouthed  at  the  image  of  himself  sitting 
in  a  carriage  just  in  front.  The  carriage 
was  turning  out  of  a  compound,  and 
blocked  the  road,  so  that  his  own  driver 
was  forced  to  stop.  He  recognized  the 
other  man.  It  was  Sir  Lemuel,  his  twin 
brother. 

The  recognition  was  mutual.  The  com- 
missioner bowed  quite  coldly  as  the  cap- 
tain called  out,  "How  are  you,  Lem- 
uel?" 

Then  the  big  Waler  horses  whipped  the 
carriage  down  the  road  at  a  slashing  gait, 
and  Larry  was  left  alone  with  The  Thing  in 
his  pocket. 

"  So  that's  why  they've  been  taking  off 
their  hats  to  me,"  he  mused.  "  They  take 
me  for  Sir  Lemuel.  Great  time  he  must 
have  ruling  these  yellow  niggers  out  here. 
I'd  like  to  be  in  his  shoes  just  for  a  day, 
to  see  how  it  feels  to  be  King  of  Burma." 

All  the  way  back  to  the  hotel  he  was 
thinking  about  it.  Arrived  there  he  wrote 
a  note  addressed  to  the  Chief  Commis- 
sioner, and  sent  it  off  by  a  native.  "  That 
will  bring  him,"  he  muttered;  "  he  always 
was  a  bit  afraid  of  me." 

It  was  six  o'clock  when  Sir  Lemuel  ar- 
rived in  his  carriage.  There  was  a  great 
scurrying  about  of  servants,  and  no  end 
of  salaaming  the  "  Lat "  Sahib;  for  it  was 
not  often  the  Chief  Commissioner  honored 
the  hotel  with  his  presence.  He  was 
shown  to  Captain  Jones's  room. 

"Take  a  seat,  Lem,"  said  Captain 
Larry  cheerfully.  "  I  wanted  to  see  you, 
and  thought  you'd  rather  come  here  than 
receive  me  at  Government  House." 

"  Please  be  brief,  then,"  said  Sir  Lem- 
uel, in  his  most  dignified  manner;  "  I  have 
to  attend  a  dinner  at  the  club  to-night  in 
honor  of  the  return  of  our  Judicial  Com- 
missioner." 

"  Oh,  Sir  Lemuel  will  be  there  in  time 


for  that,"  chuckled  the  captain.  "But 
first,  Lem,  for  the  sake  of  old  times,  I 
want  you  to  drink  a  glass  of  wine  with 
me.  You  know  we  took  a  drink  together 
pretty  often  the  first  year  of  our  exist- 
ence." Then  he  broke  into  a  loud  sailor 
laugh  that  irritated  the  Commissioner. 

"  While  I  don't  approve  of  drinking  to 
the  extent  you  have  carried  it,"  said  Sir 
Lemuel,  with  judicial  severity,  "still  I 
can't  refuse  a  glass  proffered  by  my 
brother." 

"  Your  twin  brother,"  broke  in  Larry; 
"of  whom  you've  always  been  so  fond, 
you  know." 

"  I  really  must  be  going,  so  please  tell 
me  why  you've  sent  for  me."  But  when 
he  had  drunk  the  glass  of  wine,  he  gave 
up  all  idea  of  going  anywhere  but  to  sleep 
— for  it  was  drugged. 

Then  Captain  Larry  stripped  his  brother, 
peeled  the  august  body  of  the  Commis- 
sioner as  one  would  strip  a  willow,  and 
draped  him  in  his  own  sailor  outfit. 
"You're  a  groggy-looking  captain,"  he 
said,  as  he  tried  to  brace  the  figure  up  in  a 
big  chair;  "you're  a  disgrace  to  the  ser- 
vice. You'll  have  your  papers  taken 
away,  first  thing  you  know." 

He  had  put  the  alabaster  god  on  the 
table  while  he  was  making  the  transfer. 

"This  is  all  your  doing,"  he  said,  ad- 
dressing the  figure. 

When  he  had  arrayed  himself  in  the 
purple  and  fine  linen  of  the  Commissioner, 
he  emptied  the  contents  of  the  bottle  of 
wine  through  the  window.  Then  he  went 
below  and  spoke  to  the  proprietor.  '  The 
captain  up-stairs,  who  had  an  important 
communication  to  make  to  me,  has  become 
suddenly  most  completely  intoxicated. 
Never  saw  a  man  get  drunk  so  quick  in 
my  life.  Can  you  have  him  sent  off  to  his 
ship,  so  that  he  won't  get  in  disgrace  ? 
It's  my  express  wish  that  this  should 
be  done,  as  he  has  been  of  service  to 
me. 

"All  right,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  hotel- 
keeper,  touching  his  forehead  with  his 
forefinger  in  salute,  "I  will  get  Captain 
Davin,  who  is  a  great  friend  of  his,  to 
take  him  off  right  away." 

"  Most  considerate  man,  the  Chief  Com- 
missioner," remarked  the  boniface,  as  the 
carriage  rolled  away. 

The  carriage  swung  in  under  a  shedlike 
portico  at  the  front  of  a  big  straggling 
bungalow.  The  driver  pulled  up  his 
horses;  the  two  yaktail-bearing  footmen, 
who  had  jumped  down  from  their  places 
behind  as  the  carriage  turned  in  off   the 


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road,  ran  hastily  up,  opening  the  door 
and  lowering  the  steps  for  The  Presence, 
the  Lat  Sahib,  the  Father  of  all  Burmans. 
Only,  Father  and  all  as  he  was,  none  of  his 
children  served  in  the  house,  the  captain 
noticed.    All  the  servants  were  from  India. 

"Hallo!  there's  the  ship's  log,"  ex- 
claimed the  captain,  looking  at  the  big 
visitors'  book  in  the  entrance.  "Wonder 
where  I've  got  to  sign  that.  The  ship 
musters  a  big  crew,"  as  he  ran  his  eye 
down  the  long  list  of  names. 

"When  does  The  Presence  want  the  car- 
riage ? "  asked  a  ponderous,  much-liveried 
native  servant,  making  a  deep  salaam. 

The  captain  pulled  out  his  watch — Sir 
Lemuel's  watch.  "It's  a  beauty,"  he 
mused,  as  his  eyes  fell  on  its  rich  yellow 
sides.  "  Right  away,  mate — I  mean 
bos'n — that  is,  tell  him  not  to  go  away. 
Wonder  what  that  fellow's  proper  title  is 
on  the  muster  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you're  to  dine  at  the  club  to-night, 
Sir  Lemuel,"  a  cheery  English  voice  said, 
as  a  young  man  came  out  of  a  room  on 
the  right. 

"  I  know  that,"  angrily  answered  Larry. 
"  I  don't  have  to  be  told  my  business." 

"Certainly,  Sir  Lemuel;  but  you  asked 
me  to  yog  your  memory,  as  you  are  so  apt 
to  forget  these  things,  you  know." 

"Quite  right,  quite  right,"  answered 
the  captain.  "If  you  catch  me  forget- 
ting anything  else,  just  hold  out  a  signal 
— that  is,  tip  me  the  wink,  will  you  ?  " 

"We've  had  a  telegram  from  Lady 
Jones,  Sir  Lemuel " 

The  cold  perspiration  stood  out  on  the 
captain's  forehead.  This  was  something 
he  had  forgotten  all  about.  A  bachelor 
himself,  it  had  never  occurred  to  him  that 
Sir  Lemuel  was  probably  married  and  that 
he  would  have  to  face  the  wife. 

"Where  is  she?  When  is  she  coming 
back  ?"  he  gasped. 

"  Oh,  Sir  Lemuel,  it  was  only  to  say 
that  she  had  arrived  safely  in  Prome." 

"  Thank  God  for  that!  "  exclaimed  the 
captain,  with  a  rare  burst  of  reverence. 

The  private  secretary  looked  rather 
astonished.  Sir  Lemuel  had  always  been 
a  very  devoted  husband,  but  not  the  sort 
of  man  to  give  way  to  an  expression  of 
strong  feeling  simply  because  his  wife 
had  arrived  at  the  end  of  her  journey. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  remember  what  she 
said  about  coming  back?"  he  asked  of 
the  wondering  secretary. 

"No,  Sir  Lemuel;  but  she'll  probably 
remain  till  her  sister  is  out  of  danger — a 
couple  of  weeks,  perhaps." 


"Of  course,  of  course,"  said  the  cap- 
tain. "Thank  the  Lord! — I  mean  I'm 
so  glad  that  she's  had  a  safe  voyage,"  he 
corrected  himself,  heaving  a  great  sigh 
of  relief.  "  That's  one  rock  out  of  the 
channel,"  he  muttered.  ' 

A  bearer  was  waiting  patiently  for  him 
to  go  and  change  his  dress.  The  captain 
whistled  softly  to  himself  when  he  saw  the 
dress  suit  all  laid  out  and  everything  in 
perfect  order  for  a  "  quick  change,"  as  he 
called  it.  As  he  finished  dressing,  the 
"bos'n,"  he  of  the  gorgeous  livery,  ap- 
peared, announcing,  "  Johnson  Sahib, sir." 

"  Who  ? "  queried  Captain  Larry. 

"Sec'tary  Sahib,  sir." 

"Oh,  that's  my  private  secretary,"  he 
thought. 

"  I've  brought  the  speech,  Sir  Lemuel," 
said  the  young  man,  as  he  entered.  "  You'll 
hardly  have  time  to  go  through  it  before 
we  start." 

The  captain  slipped  the  speech  and  the 
little  alabaster  god  in  his  pocket,  and  they 
were  soon  bowling  along  to  the  official  din- 
ner. "  Look  here,  Johnson,"  he  said,  "  I 
think  fever  or  something's  working  on  me. 
I  can't  remember  men's  faces,  and  get 
their  names  all  mixed  up.  I  wouldn't  go 
to  this  dinner  to-night  if  I  hadn't  promised 
to.  I  ought  to  stay  aboard  the  ship — I 
mean  I  ought  to  stay  at  home.  Now  I 
want  you  to  help  me  through,  and  if  it 
goes  off  all  right,  I'll  double  your  salary 
next  month.  Safe  to  promise  that,"  he 
muttered  to  himself.  "  Let  Lem  attend 
to  it." 

At  the  club,  as  the  captain  entered,  the 
band  struck  up  "God  save  the  Queen." 

"  By  jingo,  we're  late!  "  he  said;  "  the 
show's  over." 

'  *  He  has  got  fever  or  sun,  sure, ' '  thought 
his  companion.  "Oh,  no,  Sir  Lemuel; 
they're  waiting  for  you,  to  sit  down  to 
dinner.  There's  Mr.  Barnes,  the  Judicial 
Commissioner,  talking  to  Colonel  Short, 
sir,"  added  the  secretary,  pointing  to  a 
tall,  clerical  looking  gentleman.  "He's 
looking  very  much  cut  up  over  the  loss  of 
his  wife." 

"Wife  dead,  must  remember  that," 
thought  Larry. 

Just  then  the  Judicial  Commissioner 
caught  sight  of  the  captain,  and  hastened 
forward  to  greet  him.  "  How  do  you  do, 
dear  Sir  Lemuel  ?  I  called  this  afternoon. 
So  sorry  to  find  that  Lady  Jones  was 
away.  You  must  find  it  very  lonely,  Sir 
Lemuel ;  I  understand  this  is  the  first  time 
you  have  been  separated  during  the  many 
years  of  your  married  life." 


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"  Yes,  I  shall  miss  the  little  woman. 
That  great  barracks  is  not  the  same  with- 
out her  sweet  little  face  about." 

"  That's  a  pretty  tall  order,"  ejaculated 
a  young  officer  to  a  friend.  And  it  was, 
considering  that  Lady  Jones  was  an  Ama- 
zonian type  of  woman,  five  feet  ten,  much 
given  to  running  the  whole  state,  and 
known  as  the  "Ironclad."  But  Larry 
didn't  know  that,  and  had  to  say  some- 
thing. 

"  Dear  Lady  Jones,"  sighed  the  Judicial 
Commissioner  pathetically.  "  I  suppose 
she  returns  almost  immediately." 

"The  Lord  forbid — at  least,  not  for  a 
few  days.  I  want  her  to  enjoy  herself 
while  she's  away.  You  will  feel  the  loss 
of  your  wife,  Mr.  Barnes,  even  more  than 
I;  for,  of  course,  she  will  never  come  back 
to  you." 

To  say  that  general  consternation  fol- 
lowed this  venture  of  the  captain's  is 
drawing  it  very  mild  indeed,  for  the  J. 
C.'s  wife  was  not  dead  at  all,  but  had  wan- 
dered far  away  with  a  lieutenant  in  a  Mad- 
ras regiment. 

"It's  the  Ironclad  put  him  up  to  that. 
She  was  always  down  on  the  J.  C.  for 
marrying  a  girl  half  his  age,"  said  an  as- 
sistant Deputy  Commissioner  to  a  man 
standing  beside  him. 

The  secretary  was  tugging  energetically 
at  the  captain's  coat  tails.  "  What  is  it, 
Johnson?"  he  asked,  suddenly  realizing 
the  tug. 

"  Dinner  is  on,  sir." 

"  Rare  streak  of  humor  the  chief  is 
developing,"  said  Captain  Lushton,  with 
a  laugh.  "  Fancy  he's  rubbing  it  into 
Barnes  on  account  of  that  appeal  case." 

Owing  to  the  indisposition  of  the  Chief 
Commissioner,  by  special  arrangement  the 
secretary  sat  at  his  left,  which  was  rather 
fortunate;  for,  by  the  time  dinner  was 
over,  the  captain  had  looked  upon  the 
wine  and  seen  that  it  was  good — had  looked 
several  times.  What  with  the  worry  of 
keeping  his  glass  empty,  and  answering, 
with  more  or  less  relevance,  respectful 
questions  addressed  to  him  from  different 
parts  of  the  table,  he  pretty  well  forgot  all 
about  the  speech  lying  in  his  lap.  Once 
or  twice  he  looked  at  it,  but  the  approaches 
to  the  facts  were  so  ambiguous,  and  veiled 
so  carefully  under  such  expressions  as, 
"It  is  deemed  expedient  under  existing 
circumstances,"  etc.,  that  he  got  very 
little  good  from  it.  One  or  two  facts  he 
gleaned,  however:  that  owing  to  the  extra- 
ordinary exertion  of  the  Judicial  Commis- 
sioner all  the  dacoits  had  either  been  hung, 


transported  to  the  Andamans,  or  turned 
from  their  evil  course  and  made  into  peace- 
able tillers  of  the  soil  ;  their  two-handed 
dah  had  been  dubbed  up,  more  or  less,  into 
a  ploughshare. 

"Glad  of  that,"  thought  the  captain. 
"  Hate  those  beastly  dacoits.  They're 
like  mutineers  on  shipboard.  The  padre- 
like lawyer  must  be  a  good  one." 

Another  point  that  loomed  up  on  his 
sailor  vision  like  the  gleam  of  a  lighthouse 
was  a  reference  to  a  petition  calling  atten- 
tion to  the  prevalence  of  crime  connected 
with  sailors  during  the  shipping  season, 
and  asking  for  the  establishment  of  a  sep- 
arate police  court,  with  a  special  magis- 
trate, to  try  these  cases. 

"  Shall  we  have  the  honor  of  your  pres- 
ence at  the  races  to-morrow  ?  "  pleasantly 
asked  a  small,  withy  man,  four  seats  down 
the  table. 

The  captain  was  caught  unawares,  and 
blurted  out,  "  Wrhere  are  they  ?  " 

"  On  the  race-course,  sir." 

The  answer  was  a  simple,  straightfor- 
ward one,  but,  nevertheless,  it  made  every- 
body laugh. 

"I  thought  they  were  on  the  moon," 
said  the  captain,  in  a  nettled  tone. 

A  man  doesn't  laugh  at  a  Chiet  Com- 
missioner's joke,  as  a  rule,  because  it's 
funny,  but  the  mirth  that  followed  this 
was  genuine  enough. 

"  Sir  Lemuel  is  coming  out,"  said  Cap- 
tain Lushton.  "Pity  the  Ironclad 
wouldn't  go  away  every  week." 

In  the  natural  order  of  things,  Sir  Lem- 
uel had  to  respond  to  the  toast  of  "  The 
Queen."  Now  the  secretary  had  very 
carefully  and  elaborately  prepared  the 
Chief  Commissioner's  speech  for  this  occa- 
sion. Sir  Lemuel  had  conscientiously 
"mugged"  it  up,  and  if  he  had  not  at 
that  moment  been  a  prisoner  on  board  the 
"  Newcastle  Maid  "  would  have  delivered 
it  with  a  pompous  sincerity  which  would 
have  added  to  his  laurels  as  a  deep  thinker 
and  brilliant  speaker.  But  the  captain  of 
a  tramp  steamer,  with  a  mixed  cargo  of 
sherry,  hock,  and  dry  monopoie  in  his 
stomach,  and  a  mischief-working  alabaster 
god  in  his  pocket,  is  not  exactly  the 
proper  person  to  deliver  a  statistical,  semi- 
official after-dinner  speech. 

When  the  captain  rose  to  his  feet,  the 
secretary  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  For 
heaven's  sake,  don't  say  anything  about 
the  Judicial's  wife.  Talk  about  dacoits;  " 
but  the  speech,  so  beautifully  written,  so 
lucid  in  its  meaning,  and  so  complicated  in 
its  detail,  became  a  waving  sea  of  foam. 


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"KING  FOR  A   DAYr 


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From  out  the  billowy  waste  of  this  indefi- 
nite mass  there  loomed  only  the  tall  figure 
of  the  cadaverous  J.  C. ;  and  attached  to 
it,  as  a  tangible  something,  the  fact  that 
he  had  lost  his  wife  and  settled  the  da- 
coits. 

It  was  glorious,  this  getting  >  up  before 
two  strings  of  more  or  less  bald-headed 
officials  to  tell  them  how  the  state  ought 
to  be  run — the  ship  steered,  as  it  were. 
"Gentlemen,"  he  began,  starting  off 
bravely  enough,  "  we  are  pleased  to  have 
among  us  once  more  our  fellow  skipper, 
the  Judicial  Commissioner." 

"The  old  buck's  got  a  rare  streak  of 
humor  on  to-night,"  whispered  Lushton. 

"  His  jovial  face  adds  to  the  harmony 
of  the  occasion.  I  will  not  allude  to  his 
late  loss,  as  we  all  know  how  deeply  he 
feels  it." 

"Gad!  but  he's  rubbing  it  in,"  said 
Lushton. 

"I  repeat,  we  are  glad  to  have  him 
among  us  once  again.  My  secretary  assures 
me  that  there's  not  a  single  dacoit  left  alive 
in  the  province.  There's  nothing  like  put- 
ting these  rebellious  chaps  down.  I  had  a 
mutiny  myself  once,  on  board  '  The  Kan- 
garoo.' I  shot  the  ringleaders  and  made 
every  mother's  son  of  the  rest  of  them 
walk  the  plank.  So  I'm  proud  of  the 
good  work  the  Judicial  has  done  in  this  re- 
spect." 

Now,  it  had  been  a  source  of  irritating 
regret  to  every  Deputy  Commissioner  in  the 
service  that  when  he  had  caught  a  dacoit 
red-handed,  convicted,  and  sentenced  him 
to  be  hanged,  and  sent  the  ruling  up  to 
the  Judicial  for  confirmation,  he  had  been 
promptly  sat  on  officially,  and  the  prisoner 
either  pardoned  or  let  off  with  a  light  sen- 
tence. Consequently  these  little  pleasant- 
ries of  the  captain  were  looked  upon  as 
satire. 

"  There  is  one  other  little  matter  I  wish 
to  speak  about,"  continued  the  captain, 
in  the  most  natural  manner  possible,  "  and 
that  is,  the  prevalence  of  what  we  might 
call  'sailor  crimes'  in  Rangoon."  He 
told  in  the  most  graphic  manner  of  the  im- 
portance of  the  shipping  interests,  for  he 
was  right  at  home  on  that  subject,  and 
wound  up  by  saying:  "  I've  been  presented 
with  a  largely  signed  petition  praying  for 
the  establishment  of  another  assistant  mag- 
istrate's court  to  try  these  cases,  presided 
over  by  a  man  more  or  less  familiar  with 
the  shipping  interests.  Now,  that's  the 
only  sensible  thing  I  ever  heard  talked  of 
in  this  heathen  land.  Set  a  thief  to  catch 
a  thief,  I  say.      Put  the  ship  in  charge  of 


a  sailor  himself — of  a  captain.  None  of 
your  landlubbers." 

His  theme  was  carrying  him  away;  he 
was  on  deck  again.  But  the  others 
thought  it  was  only  his  humor;  the  strange, 
unaccountable  humor  that  had  taken  pos- 
session of  him  since  the  Ironclad  had  let 
go  her  hold. 

"  Now,  I  know  of  a  most  worthy  cap- 
tain," he  continued,  "who  would  fill  this 
billet  with  honor  to  himself  and  profit  to  the 
Judicial.  His  name  is  Captain  Jones — a 
namesake  of  my  own,  I  may  say — of  the 
'  Newcastle  Maid,'  2,000  tons  register. 
I've  known  him  ever  since  he  was  a  babe, 
and  the  sailors  won't  fool  him,  I  can  tell 
you.  I'd  a  talk  with  him  this  evening 
down  at  the  hotel,  and  he's  just  the  man 
for  the  job.  I'd  sign  the  papers  appoint- 
ing him  to-morrow  if  they  were  put  before 
me.  He  ought  to  have  a  good  salary, 
though,"  he  said,  as  he  sat  down,  rather 
abruptly,  some  of  them  thought. 

The  secretary  sighed  as  he  shoved  in  his 
pocket  the  written  speech,  which  the  cap- 
tain had  allowed  to  slip  to  the  floor.  "  It'll 
do  for  another  time,  I  suppose,"  he  said 
wearily;  "  when  he  gets  over  this  infernal 
touch  of  sun  or  Burma  head." 

People  in  India  get  used  to  that  sort  of 
thing  happening— of  their  older  officials 
saying  startling  things  sometimes.  That's 
what  the  fifty-five  years'  service  is  for — to 
prevent  it.  The  other  speeches  did  not 
appeal  to  Captain  Larry  much;  nor,  for  the 
matter  of  that,  to  the  others  either.  He 
had  certainly  made  the  hit  of  the  evening. 

"It's  great,  this,"  he  said  bucolically 
to  the  secretary,  as  they  drove  home. 

"What,  sir?" 

"Why,  making  speeches,  and  driving 
home  in  your  own  carriage.  I  hate  going 
aboard  ship  in  a  jiggledy  sampan  at  night. 
I'll  have  a  string  of  wharves  put  all  along 
the  front  there,  so  that  ships  won't  have  to 
load  at  their  moorings.  Just  put  me  in 
mind  of  that  to-morrow." 

Next  day  there  was  considerable  diver- 
sion on  the  "Newcastle  Maid."  "The 
old  man's  got  the  D.  T.'s,"  the  chief  en- 
gineer told  the  first  officer.  "  I  locked 
him  in  his  cabin  last  night  when  they 
brought  him  off,  and  he's  banging  things 
around  there  in  great  shape.  Swears  he's 
the  ruler  of  Burma  and  Sir  Gimnel  Some- 
body. I  won't  let  him  out  till  he  gets  all 
right  again,  for  he'd  go  up  to  the  agents 
with  this  cock-and-bull  story.  They'd 
cable  home  to  the  owners,  and  he'd  be 
taken  out  of  the  ship  sure." 


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" KING  FOR  A   DAY:* 


That's  why  Sir  Lemuel  tarried  for  a 
day  on  the  "  Newcastle  Maid."  Nobody 
would  go  near  him  but  the  chief  engineer, 
who  handed  him  meat  and  drink  through 
a  port-hole  and  laughed  soothingly  at  his 
fancy  tales. 

After  chota  hazre  next  morning,  the  sec- 
retary brought  to  Captain  Larry  a  large 
basket  of  official  papers  for  his  perusal  and 
signature.  That  was  Sir  Lemuel's  time 
for  work.  His  motto  was,  business  first, 
and  afterwards  more  business.  Each 
paper  was  carefully  contained  in  a  card- 
board holder  secured  by  red  tape. 

41  The  log,  eh,  mate  ?  "  said  Larry,  when 
the  secretary  brought  them  into  his  room. 
44  It  looks  ship-shape,  too." 

44  This  file,  sir,  is  the  case  of  Deputy 
Commissioner  Grant,  ist  Grade,  of  Bun- 
galoo.  He  has  memorialized  the  govern-* 
ment  that  Coatsworth,  2nd  Grade,  has 
been  appointed  over  his  head  to  the  com- 
missionership  of  Bhang.  He's  senior  to 
Coatsworth,  you  know,  sir,  in  the  service." 

44  Well,  why  has  Coatsworth  been  made 
first  mate  then  ?" 

44  Grant's  afraid  it's  because  he  offended 
you,  sir,  when  you  went  to  Bungaloo.  He 
received  you  in  ajaAran  coat,  you  remem- 
ber, and  you  were  awfully  angry  about  it." 

44  Oh,  I  was,  was  I?  Just  shows  what 
an  ass  Sir  Lemuel  can  be  sometimes.  Make 
Grant  a  commissioner  at  once,  and  I'll 
sign  the  papers." 

44  But  there's  no  commissionership  open, 
sir,  unless  you  set  back  Coatsworth." 

44  Well,  I'll  set  him  back.  I'll  dis- 
charge him  from  the  service.  What  else 
have  you  got  there  ?  What's  that  bundle 
on  the  deck  ?" 

44  They're  native  petitions,  sir." 

Larry  took  up  one.  It  began  with  an 
oriental  profusion  of  gracious  titles  be- 
stowed upon  the  commissioner,  and  went 
into  business  by  stating  that  the  writer, 
Baboo  Sen's,  wife  had  got  two  children 
44  by  the  grace  of  God  and  the  kind  favor 
of  Sir  Lemuel,  the  Father  of  all  Burmans." 
And  the  long  petition  was  all  to  the  end 
that  Baboo  Sen  might  have  a  month's 
leave  of  absence. 

Larry  chuckled,  for  he  did  not  under- 
stand the  complex  nature  of  a  Baboo's 
English.  The  next  petition  gave  him 
much  food  for  thought;  it  made  his  head 
ache.  The  English  was  like  logarithms. 
44  Here,"  he  said  to  the  secretary,  44you 
fix  these  petitions  up  later;  I'm  not  used 
to  them." 

He  straightened  out  the  rest  of  the  offi- 


cial business  in  short  order.  Judgments 
that  would  have  taken  the  wind  out  of 
Solomon's  sails,  he  delivered  with  a  rapid- 
ity that  made  the  secretary's  head  swim. 
They  were  not  all  according  to  the  code, 
and  would  probably  not  stand  if  sent  up 
to  the  privy  council.  At  any  rate,  they 
would  give  Sir  Lemuel  much  patient  un- 
doing when  he  came  into  his  own  again. 
The  secretary  unlocked  the  official  seal, 
and  worked  it,  while  the  captain  limited 
his  signature  to  "  L.  Jones." 

44  That's  not  forgery,"  he  mused;  44  it 
means  4  Larry  Jones.'  " 

44  The  Chief's  hand  is  pretty  shaky  this 
morning,"  thought  the  secretary;  for  the 
signature  was  not  much  like  the  careful 
clerkly  hand  that  he  was  accustomed  to 
see. 

Sir  Lemuel's  wine  had  been  a  standing 
reproach  to  Government  House.  A  din- 
ner there  either  turned  a  man  into  a  teeto- 
taler or  a  dyspeptic;  and  at  tiffin,  when  the 
captain  broached  a  bottle  of  it,  he  set  his 
glass  down  with  a  roar.  44  He's  brought 
me  the  vinegar,"  he  exclaimed,  44  or  the 
coal  oil.  Is  there  no  better  wine  in  the 
house  than  this  ?"  he  asked  the  butler;  and 
when  told  there  wasn't,  he  insisted  upon 
the  secretary  writing  out  an  order  at  once 
for  fifty  dozen  Pommery.  "  Have  it  back 
in  time  for  dinner,  sure!  I'll  leave  some 
for  Lem  too;  this  stuff  isn't  good  for  his 
blood,"  he  said  to  himself  grimly. 

44  I'm  glad  this  race  meet  is  on  while  I'm 
king,"  he  thought,  as  he  drove  down  after 
tiffin,  taking  his  secretary  with  him.  44  They 
say  the  Prince  of  Wales  always  gets  the 
straight  tip,  and  I'll  be  sure  to  be  put  on 
to  something  good." 

And  he  was.  Captain  Lushton  told  him 
that  his  mare  44  Nettie"  was  sure  to  win 
the  44  Rangoon  Plate,"  forgetting  to  men- 
tion that  he  himself  had  backed  44  Tom- 
boy "  for  the  same  race. 

44  Must  have  wrenched  a  leg,"  Lushton 
assured  Larry  when  ,4  Nettie"  came  in 
absolutely  last. 

It  was  really  wonderful  how  many 44  good 
things"  he  got  on  to  that  did  run  last,  or 
thereabouts.  It  may  have  been  the  little 
alabaster  Buddha  in  his  pocket  that 
brought  him  the  bad  luck;  but  as  the  sec- 
retary wrote  "  I.  O.  U.'s  "  for  all  the  bets 
he  made,  and  as  Sir  Lemuel  would  be  into 
his  own  again  before  settling  day,  and 
would  have  to  pay  up,  it  did  not  really 
matter  to  the  captain. 

The  regiment  was  so  pleased  with  Sir 
Lemuel's  contributions,  that  the  best  they 
had  in  their  marquee  was  none  too  good 


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"KING  FOR  A  DAY." 


5" 


for  him.  The  ladies  found  him  an  equally 
ready  mark.  Mrs.  Leyburn  was  pretty, 
and  had  fish  to  fry.  "  I  must  do  a  little 
missionary  work  while  the  Ironclad's 
away,"  she  thought.  Her  mission  was 
to  install  her  husband  in  the  position  of 
port  officer.  That  came  out  later — came 
out  at  the  ball  that  night.  The  captain 
assured  her  that  he  would  attend. 

There  is  always  a  sort  of  Donnybrook 
Derby  at  the  end  of  a  race  day  in  Ran- 
goon. Ponies  are  gently  sequestered 
from  their  more  or  less  willing  owners,  and 
handed  over,  minus  their  saddles,  to  sail- 
ors, who  pilot  them  erratically  around  the 
course  for  a  contributed  prize.  When  the 
captain  saw  the  hat  going  around  for  the 
prize  money,  he  ordered  the  secretary  to 
write  out  a  "  chit  "  for  200  rupees.  "  Give 
them  something  worth  while,  poor  chaps," 
he  said. 

"  And  to  think  that  the  Ironclad  has 
kept  this  bottled  up  so  long,"  muttered 
Lushton. 

"  I  always  said  you  had  a  good  heart," 
Mrs.  Leyburn  whispered  to  the  captain. 
"If  people  would  only  let  you  show  it," 
she  added  maliciously ;  meaning,  of  course, 
Lady  Jones. 

The  Chief  Commissioner  was  easily  the 
most  popular  man  in  Burma  that  night. 
It  was  with  difficulty  the  blue-jackets  could 
be  kept  from  carrying  him  home  on  their 
shoulders.  "  I  hope  Lena  is  looking  after 
the  cargo  all  right,"  murmured  the  cap- 
tain, as  he  drove  home  to  dinner.  "  I 
seem  to  be  getting  along  nicely.  Lucky 
the  old  cat's  away." 

The  captain  danced  the  opening  quad- 
rille at  the  ball  with  the  wife  of  the  Finan- 
cial Commissioner,  and  bar  a  little  enthusi- 
astic rolling  engendered  of  his  sea  life, 
and  a  couple  of  torn  trails  as  they  swept 
a  little  too  close,  he  managed  it  pretty 
well.  The  secretary  had  piloted  him  that 
far.  Then  Mrs.  Leyburn  swooped  down 
upon  him. 

There  is  an  adornment  indigenous  to 
every  ballroom  in  the  East,  known  as  the 
kala  jagah  ;  it  may  be  a  conservatory  or  a 
bay  window.  A  quiet  seat  among  the  cro- 
tons,  with  the  drowsy  drone  of  the  waltz 
flitting  in  and  out  among  the  leaves,  is  just 
the  place  to  work  a  man. 

I'm  telling  you  this  now;  but  Mrs.  Ley- 
burn  knew  it  long  ago:  moons  before 
Captain  Larry  opened  the  ball  with  the 
Financial  Commissioner's  wife.  Not  that 
Mrs.  Leyburn  was  the  only  woman  with  a 
mission.  Official  life  in  India  is  full  of 
them;  only  she  had  the  start — that  was  all. 


"It's  scandalous,"  another  missionary 
said  to  Captain  Lushton.  "  They've  been 
in  there  an  hour — they've  sat  out  three 
dances.  I'm  sorry  for  poor  dear  Lady 
Jones." 

Among  the  crotons  the  missionary-in- 
the-field  was  saying:  "I'm  sure  Jack 
ordered  the  launch  to  meet  you  at  the 
steamer  that  time,  Sir  Lemuel.  He  knows 
you  were  frightfully  angry  about  it,  and 
has  felt  it  terribly.  He's  simply  afraid  to 
ask  you  for  the  billet  of  port  officer;  and 
that  horrible  man  who  is  acting  officer  now 
will  get  it,  and  poor  Jack  won't  be  able  to 
send  me  up  to  Darjeeling  next  hot  weather. 
And  you'll  be  going  for  a  month  again 
next  season,  Sir  Lemuel,  won't  you  ?  " 

Now,  as  it  happened,  the  captain  had 
had  a  row  with  the  acting  port  officer 
coming  up  the  river;  so  it  was  just  in  his 
mitt,  as  he  expressed  it.  "  I'll  arrange  it 
for  Jack  to-morrow,"  he  said;  "never 
fear,  little  woman."  ("  He  spoke  of  you 
as  Jack,"  she  told  Leyburn  later  on,  "  and 
it's  all  right,  love.  Lucky  the  Ironclad 
was  away.") 

A  lady  approaching  from  the  ballroom 
heard  a  little  rustle  among  the  plants, 
pushed  eagerly  forward,  and  stood  before 
them.  Another  missionary  had  entered 
the  field.  "I  beg  pardon,  Sir  Lemuel," 
and  she  disappeared. 

"  Perfectly  scandalous!  "  she  said,  as 
she  met  Lushton.  "Some  one  ought  to 
advise  dear  Lady  Jones  of  that  designing 
creature's  behavior." 

"For  Cupid's  sake,  don't,"  ejaculated 
Lushton  fervently.  "  Let  the  old  boy 
have  his  fling.     He  doesn't  get  out  often." 

"  I've  no  intention  of  doing  so  myself," 
said  his  companion,  with  asperity. 

But  all  the  same  a  telegram  went  that 
night  to  Lady  Jones  at  Prome,  which  bore 
good  fruit  next  day,  and  much  of  it. 

When  they  emerged  from  the  crotons, 
Mrs.  Leyburn  was  triumphant.  The  cap- 
tain was  also  more  or  less  pleased  with 
things  as  they  were.  "  Jack  will  probably 
crack  Lem's  head  when  he  doesn't  get  his 
appointment,"  he  thought. 

The  band  was  playing  a  waltz,  and  he 
and  Mrs.  Leyburn  mingled  with  the  swing- 
ing figures.  As  they  rounded  a  couple 
that  had  suddenly  steered  across  the  cap- 
tain's course,  his  coat-tails  flew  out  a  little 
too  horizontally,  and  the  yellow-faced  ala- 
baster god  rolled  on  the  floor.  It  spun 
around  like  a  top  for  a  few  times,  and 
then  sat  bolt  upright,  grinning  with  hideous 
familiarity  at  the  astonished  dancers.  Not 
that  many  were  dancing  now,  for  a  won- 

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5" 


KING  FOR  A  DAYr 


dering  crowd  commenced  to  collect  about 
the  captain  and  the  grotesque  little  Bud- 
dha. The  lady-who-had-seen  took  in  the 
situation  in  an  instant;  for  jealousy  acts 
like  new  wine  on  the  intellect.  She  darted 
forward,  picked  up  the  obese  little  god, 
and,  with  a  sweet  smile  on  her  gentle  face, 
proffered  it  to  the  captain's  companion, 
with  the  remark,  "  I  think  you've  dropped 
one  of  your  children's  toys." 

Captain  Larry  was  speechless;  he  was 
like  a  hamstrung  elephant,  and  as  helpless. 

A  private  secretary  is  a  most  useful  ad- 
junct to  a  Chief  Commissioner,  but  a  pri- 
vate secretary  with  brains  is  a  jewel.  So 
when  Johnson  stepped  quickly  forward  and 
said,  "  Excuse  me,  madam,  but  that  figure 
belongs  to  me;  I  dropped  it,"  the  captain 
felt  as  though  a  life-line  had  been  thrown 
to  him. 

The  secretary  put  the  Buddha  in  his 
pocket;  and  it  really  appeared  as  though 
from  that  moment  the  captain's  luck  de- 
parted. He  slipped  away  early  from  the 
ball;  it  seemed,  somehow,  as  though  the 
fun  had  gone  out  of  the  thing.  He  began 
to  have  misgivings  as  to  the  likelihood  of 
the  chief  engineer  keeping  his  brother 
shut  up  much  longer.  "  I'll  get  out  of  this 
in  the  morning,"  he  said,  as  he  turned 
into  bed.  "I've  had  enough  of  it.  I'll 
scuttle  the  ship  and  clear  out." 

This  virtuous  intention  would  have  been 
easy  of  accomplishment,  comparatively, 
if  he  had  not  slept  until  ten  o'clock.  When 
he  arose,  the  secretary  came  to  him  with  a 
troubled  face.  "  There's  a  telegram  from 
Lady  Jones,  Sir  Lemuel,  asking  for  the 
carriage  to  meet  her  at  the  station,  and 
I've  sent  it.  She's  chartered  a  special 
train,  and  we  expect  her  any  moment." 

"  Great  Scott!  I'm  lost!  "  moaned  the 
captain.  "  I  must  get  out  of  this.  Help 
me  dress  quickly,  that's  a  good  fellow." 

An  official  accosted  him  as  he  came  out 
of  his  room.  "  I  want  to  see  you,  Sir 
Lemuel." 

"Is  that  your  tom-tom  at  the  door?" 
answered  the  captain,  quite  irrelevantly. 

"Yes,  Sir  Lemuel." 

"  Well,  just  wait  here  for  a  few  minutes. 
I've  got  to  meet  Lady  Jones,  and  I'm  late." 

Jumping  into  the  cart  he  drove  off  at  a 
furious  clip.  Fate,  in  the  shape  of  the 
Ironclad,  swooped  down  upon  him  at  the 
very  gate.  He  met  Lady  Jones  face  to 
face. 


"  Stop!  "  she  cried  excitedly.  "  Where 
are  you  going,  Sir  Lemuel  ? " 

"  I'm  not  Sir  Lemuel,"  roared  back  the 
disappointed  captain. 

"  Nice  exhibition  you're  making  of 
yourself — Chief  Commissioner  of  Burma." 

"  I'm  not  the  Commissioner  of  Burma. 
I'm  not  your  Sir  Lemuel,"  he  answered, 
anxious  to  get  away  at  any  cost. 

"  The  man  is  mad.  The  next  thing 
you'll  deny  that  I'm  your  wife." 

"  Neither  are  you!  "  roared  the  enraged 
captain,  and  away  he  sped. 

Lady  Jones  followed.  It  was  a  proces- 
sion; the  red  spokes  of  the  tom-tom 
twinkling  in  and  out  the  bright  patches  of 
sunlight  as  it  whirled  along  between  the 
big  banyan  trees;  and  behind,  the  carriage, 
Lady  Jones  sitting  bolt  upright  with  set 
lips.  The  captain  reached  the  wharf  first. 
He  was  down  the  steps  and  into  a  sampan 
like  a  shot. 

It  was  the  only  sampan  there.  The  car- 
riage dashed  up  at  that  instant.  There 
was  no  other  boat;  there  was  nothing  for 
it  but  to  wait. 

"Come,  Lem,  get  into  these  duds  and 
clear  out,"  cried  the  captain,  as  he  burst 
into  his  cabin. 

"You  villain!  I'll  have  you  sent  to 
the  Andamans  for  this,"  exclaimed  the 
prisoner. 

"Quick!  Your  wife's  waiting  on  the 
dock,"  said  Larry. 

That  had  the  desired  effect;  Sir  Lemuel 
became  as  a  child  that  had  played  truant. 

"What  have  you  done,  Larry?"  he 
cried  pathetically.     "  You've  ruined  me." 

"No,  I've  done  you  good.  And  I've 
left  you  some  decent  wine  at  the  house. 
Get  ashore  before  she  comes  off." 

44  There's  no  help  for  it,"  said  Sir  Lem- 
uel. "  There  are  your  orders  to  proceed 
to  Calcutta  to  load;  your  beastly  chief 
engineer  insisted  on  shoving  them  in  to 
me. 

"  Don't  *  my  love '  me!  "  said  the  Iron- 
clad, when  Sir  Lemuel  climbed  penitently 
into  the  carriage.  "  An  hour  ago  you  de- 
nied that  I  was  your  wife." 

And  so  they  drove  off,  the  syce  taking 
the  tom-tom  back  to  its  owner.  It  took 
Sir  Lemuel  days  and  days  to  straighten 
out  the  empire  after  the  rule  of  the  man 
who  had  been  "  King  for  a  Day." 


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[THE  GENERAL  MANAGER'S  STORY.] 

ADVERSITIES    OF    A    PASSENGER    ENGINEER. 


A  NARRATIVE  OF  PERSONAL  EXPERIENCES. 

By  Herbert  E.  Hamblen  ("  Fred.  B.  Williams  "),  Author  of  "  On  Many  Seas." 

AN    ADVENTURE    WITH    TRAIN    ROBBERS.— ORGANIZING    A    STRIKE.— RUNNING 
INTO  AN  EXCURSION  TRAIN.— AN  ENCOUNTER  WITH  A  DRUNKEN  ENGINEER. 

Illustrated  with  Drawings  from  Lifb  by  W.  D.  Stevens. 


ONE  night  as  I  was  running  along  at  a 
good  gait,  crowding  the  speed  limit 
a  little, — for  I  was  trying  to  make  a  cer- 
tain siding  ahead  of  the  express, — some 
one  shook  me  roughly  by  the  shoulder, 
and  said:  "  Hey,  you!  "  I  wondered  that 
the  fireman  should  be  so  energetic  in  ad- 
dressing me;  so  it  was  in  a  fit  of  ill-humor 
that  I  pulled  my  head  in,  and  snarling 
out,  "  What  do  you  want  ?  "  looked  along 
the  barrel  of  a  big  revolver  and  into  a 
pair  of  fierce  eyes  under  the  brim  of  a 
slouch  hat.  That  was  all  I  could  see. 
But  it  was  enough.  I  had  scraped  a  hole 
in  the  paint  on  the  gauge-lamp  globe,  to 
read  orders  by,  and  the  ray  of  light  from 
it  showed  me  this  unpleasant  sight.  The 
cab  being  all  in  darkness,  the  gun  and 
eyes  appeared  as  if  suspended  in  space. 

There  was  also  a  voice,  and  it  said:  "  I 
want  you  to  slack  up,  right  here,  so's  we 
kin  git  off." 

"  All  right,  sir,"  said  I,  and  I  shut  right 
off.  I  reached  for  th«  whistle  cord  to  call 
for  brakes,  but  the  voice  said:  "  Hoi'  on, 
sonny;  none  o'  that;  'tain't  healthy;"  so 
I  let  her  roll.  "  Git  outer  the  way  till  I 
see,"  said  the  voice,  which,  as  the  fire- 
man had  opened  the  door,  I  could  now 
see  belonged  to  a  big,  square-shouldered 
six-footer.  He  took  my  place  at  the 
window,  and  when  she  had  slowed  down 
sufficiently,  I  could  hear  voices  in  the  rear 
counting  one,  two,  three.  They  were 
counting  themselves  as  they  jumped  off. 
The  third  man,  after  calling  out  his  num- 
ber, sang  out,  "All  right."  My  friend 
with  the  ordnance  climbed  down  on  the 
step  and  dropped  off  without  a  word,  and 
I  went  on.  Presently  the  conductor 
came  ahead  to  know  why  I  had  shut  off. 
I  told  him  to  let  off  a  gang  of  tramps. 
That  night  the  express  was  half  an  hour 


late,  and  passed  me  in  the  siding,  at  the 
rate  of  seventy  miles  an  hour. 

She  had  been  flagged  near  where  my 
"tramps"  got  off.  One  fellow  got  on 
the  engine,  and  entertained  the  engineer 
and  fireman,  while  his  three  partners 
looted  the  express  car  and  took  up  a  col- 
lection from  the  passengers. 

After  that,  all  freight  engines  and  ca- 
booses were  furnished  with  arms,  and  as 
if  by  magic  the  tramps  deserted  our  road 
for  nearly  a  year,  by  which  time  the  guns 
had  become  lost  or  stolen  or  useless,  and 
gradually  the  tramps  returned,  soon  be- 
coming as  pestiferous  as  before. 

Owing  to  the  efforts  of  a  firm  of  real 
estate  speculators,  business  began  to 
boom  on  the  road  to  such  an  extent  that 
two  new  suburban  trains  were  put  on, 
calling  for  three  passenger  engineers,  one 
for  each  engine,  and  one  to  swing  between 
them  and  take  part  of  a  day  from  each, 
as  the  miles  and  hours  were  too  long. 

I  was  one  of  the  lucky  three,  and  at  last 
found  myself  in  charge  of  the  head  end 
of  a  passenger  train.  Being  the  youngest, 
I  had  the  relief.  That  didn't  suit  me  very 
well,  for  an  engineer  always  wants  to  own 
his  engine,  fix  things  to  suit  himself,  and 
have  no  one  to  interfere  with  her.  How- 
ever, it  was  so  very  much  better  than  any 
job  I  had  ever  had,  that  for  some  time  I 
thought  I  had  reached  the  very  acme  of 
my  ambition,  and  would  never  ask  for  any- 
thing more;  but  I  had  not  been  on  the 
train  six  months  before  a  condition  arose 
that  was  as  unpleasant  as  it  was  unex- 
pected. It  seems  that  for  a  couple  of 
years  previously  the  road  had  not  been 
paying  satisfactory  dividends,  so  the  board 
of  directors  unseated  the  president  and 
general  manager  and  filled  those  offices 
with    others,    pledged    to    retrenchment. 


Copyright,  1897,  by  Herbert  B.  Hamblen. 


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5H 


NOT  A  MILE  OF  SAFE   TRACK  ON  THE  LINE. 


The  shop  crews  were  reduced,  and  even 
those  who  were  retained  were  put  on  short 
time. 


A    COSTLY    POLICY    OF    RETRENCHMENT. 

A  howl  went  up  at  once.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  get  work  done  on  engines  and 
cars;  breakdowns  on  the  road  became  the 
rule  instead  of,  as  heretofore,  the  excep- 
tion; conductors  and  engineers  had  to  do 
most  of  the  repairing  when  in  the  side 
track.  The  want  of  links  and  pins  kept 
the  train  crews  on  the  lookout  for  "  iron." 
As  brake-shoes  were  never  renewed  while 
a  vestige  remained,  several  wrecks  were 
caused  by  inability  to  stop  trains,  any  one 
of  which  cost  the  company  more  than  all 
the  brake-shoes  used  on  the  road  in  a  year, 
and  for  once  "  no  brakes"  became,  if  not 
a  valid,  at  least  a  reasonable  excuse. 

Cheap  oil  that  would  not  lubricate  cut 
our  journals  and  crankpins,  and,  besides 
the  time  lost  on  the  road,  the  cars  and  en- 
gines had  to  be  laid  up  for  want  of  shop 
men  to  repair  them.  Waste  was  no 
longer  issued,  so  that  the  engines  became 
coated  with  grease  and  dirt,  making  it 
next  to  impossible  to  detect  a  fracture  in 
any  of  the  parts.  Under  this  reform  ad- 
ministration the  quality  of  the  fuel  be- 
came so  depreciated  that  it  was  impossible 
to  make  time,  the  first  result  of  which  was 
that  engineers  and  firemen  were  sus- 
pended, and  the  next,  that  business  fell 
off,  for  people  would  neither  ship  their 
goods  nor  travel  on  a  road  where  the 
service  was  so  unreliable. 

Within  three  months  two  engines  were 
wrecked,  and  their  engineers  killed  by 
broken  parallel  rods  tearing  up  through 
the  cabs,  like  huge  iron  flails,  and  flog- 
ging them  to  death.  In  the  suit  for  dam- 
ages brought  by  their  widows, — as  it  was 
proved  that  the  men  had  reported  the 
necessity  of  having  the  brasses  in  those 
rods  reduced  for  weeks,  but  there  were  no 
men  to  do  it, — the  company  had  to  pay 
heavy  damages.  A  broken  driving-wheel 
tire  ditched  a  passenger  train — more 
damages. 

Discontent  was  rampant;  grumbling 
and  cursing  at  the  management  became 
the  order  of  the  day.  There  was  not  a 
mile  of  safe  track  on  the  whole  line.  The 
wrecking  train  was  hardly  ever  idle,  and 
on  more  than  one  occasion  it  became  nec- 
essary to  send  another  train  out  to  bring 
her  in. 

While  we  were  laboring  under  these 
aggravating  inconveniences,  an  order  was 


posted  on  the  bulletin  board  to  the  effect 
that,  after  the  first  of  the  next  month,  all 
employees  receiving  one  dollar  and  a  half 
per  day,  or  over,  would  be  cut  ten  per  cent, 
until  further  notice.  This  included  engi- 
neers, firemen,  conductors,  and  brakemen. 
The  men  gathered  in  knots  and  discussed 
the  cut;  but  as  there  appeared  to  be  no 
prospect  of  their  arriving  at  an  under- 
standing, Frank  Manly,  my  friend  and  par- 
ticular chum,  and  I  adjourned  to  my  room 
and  drew  up  two  notices,  as  follows: 

NOTICE. 

All  employees  of  this  road  engaged  in  train  serv- 
ice who  are  dissatisfied  with  bulletin  order  No.  3, 
of  June  14th,  which  orders  a  reduction  of  ten  per 
cent,  in  all  salaries  of  $1.50,  or  over,  arc  requested  to 
meet  at  Schroeder's  assembly  room  on  the  evening 
of  July  ist,  at  8.15  sharp.     By  order  of 

The  Committee. 

These  we  printed  with  pen  and  ink,  so 
as  to  make  it  impossible  for  any  one  to 
trace  our  handwriting;  for,  never  having 
written  anything  of  importance  before,  we 
had  an  exaggerated  idea  of  our  present 
undertaking.  Then  we  had  them  posted, 
one  on  the  round-house  bulletin  board  and 
one  on  the  conductor's  bulletin  board. 
But  it  proved  hard  enough  to  get  the  men 
to  the  meeting.  The  genuine  railroader, 
although  he  would  like  exceedingly  to  pos- 
sess the  earth  and  the  fulness  thereof,  is 
so  everlastingly  afraid  of  losing  his  job, 
that  he  submits  to  impositions  that  would 
cause  a  revolt  in  a  Chinese  laundry,  con- 
tenting himself  with  damning  the  com- 
pany in  a  low  voice  from  behind  the  coal- 
pile  or  in  the  seclusion  of  his  home, 
while  a  nod  of  recognition  from  the  divi- 
sion superintendent,  or  the  mention  of  his 
first  name  by  the  master  mechanic,  sets 
his  heart  to  fluttering  with  ardent  self- 
congratulations. 

The  meeting  really  accomplished  noth- 
ing, and  we  held  a  second,  and  then  a 
third,  when  a  motion  was  finally  passed  to 
appoint  a  committee  to  wait  on  the  presi- 
dent. I  started  in  to  nominate  members 
for  the  committee.  After  I  had  nominated 
half  a  dozen  unwilling  candidates,  an  old 
fellow  jumped  up  and  bawled  out:  "  Sa-ay! 
you've  nominated  about  everybody  in  the 
room  to  serve  on  this  committee,  an'  now, 
by  gum,  I  nominate  you."  There  was  a 
roar  of  laughter  at  this,  and  as  soon  as  it 
subsided,  I  turned  to  the  chairman,  and 
said.  "I  accept."  This  brought  down 
the  house.  When  the  cheering  was  over  I 
nominated  the  previous  speaker,  and  amid 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


A    TIMID  COMMITTEE  AND  A  BLUEE  OEE/C/Al. 


5*5 


more  noise  he  accepted.  After  this  we 
had  but  little  trouble  in  completing  our 
committee. 

AN    APPEAL    TO    THE    PRESIDENT. 

The  next  day  at  eleven  o'clock,  we  of 
the  committee  sat   dressed    in   our    best 


"GIT  OUTER  THS   WAY  TILL  I  SEE." 

clothes  in  the  anteroom  of  the  president's 
office,  waiting  for  an  answer  to  our  request 
for  an  audjence.  Presently  the  door  of  the 
spacious  private  office  was  thrown  wide 
open,  and  we  were  requested  to  enter. 
Hats  in  hands,  and  hearts  in  mouths,  we 
filed  in,  I,  in  virtue  of  my  office  as  chair- 
man, at  the  head.  Standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  both  hands  in  his  pockets, 
his  feet  spread  wide  apart,  and  with  an 
extremely  fragrant  cigar  cocked  at  an 
angle  of  forty-five  towards  his  left  eye, 
was  a  tall,  gray,  spare  man,  plainly  but 
expensively  dressed,  who  when  we  at  last 
got  ourselves  shuffled  into  some  kind  of 


order  before  him,  ran  his  eye  keenly  along 
our  rank  and  said: 

"Well,  gentlemen,  I  understand  that 
you  are  a  committee  representing  the  em- 
ployees of  my  road.  Which  is  your  chair- 
man ?  " 

I  told  him  that  I  was  the  chairman. 
"  Ah,  yes!  what  is  your  name,  please  ?  " 
I  told  him. 

"And  your  occupa- 
tion?" 

"  Engineer." 
"  Yes?  very  well;  now 
you  may  introduce  your 
committee,  please,  giv- 
ing their  names  and  oc- 
cupations." 

As  I  called  out  their 
names  I  could  see  each 
individual  committee- 
man shrink  and  shrivel 
under  the  keen  critical 
glance  of  the  magnate, 
who  evidently  regarded 
us  as  imbeciles  or  freaks, 
an  odd  lot  to  be  studied 
a  bit,  wheedled  into  sub- 
jection if  possible,  but 
under  no  circumstances 
to  be  allowed  to  inter- 
fere with  his  financial 
policy. 

And  the  committee!  I 
know  that   every  moth- 
er's  son   of    them    was 
cursing  the  enthusiastic 
folly  that  caused  him  to 
accept  the  appointment. 
The    brief    ceremony 
of  introduction  over,  the 
president  asked,  with  a 
cynical    smile:    "Well, 
gentlemen,  what   can    I 
do   for  you  ?"      I   told 
him  our  errand,  and  he 
asked  if  we  thought  we 
were  more  competent  to  manage  the  prop- 
erty than  he  was.      Remembering  that  he 
was  the  president,  I  lyingly  told  him  no. 
I  told  him  that  we  didn't  expect  or  wish 
to  manage  the  property,  but  that  we  were 
working  harder  than  we  had  ever  done  be- 
fore, and  getting  less  pay,  which  we  didn't 
consider  just. 

He  said  that  circumstances,  which  we 
would  not  be  able  to  understand,  had  re- 
duced the  earning  capacity  of  the  road  so 
that  it  was  unable  to  pay  the  interest  on 
its  bonds  and  pay  the  wages  we  had  here- 
tofore received.  He  said  that  if  the  in- 
vestors didn't  get  satisfactory  returns  for 


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516    CHOICE  BETWEEN  LOWER  WAGES  AND  DEPRECIATED  SCRIP. 

the  end  of  the 
month  in  cash, 
and,  by  sacrific- 
ing ten  per  cent, 
for  a  short  time, 
help  to  put  the 
road  on  a  paying 
basis;  or  receive 
your  pay  in  scrip, 
which  you  would 
have  to  sell  for 
perhaps  twenty- 
five  per  cent.,  or 
more,  less  than 
its  face  value, 
for  an  indefinite 
time?" 

" 1  can't  pay 
my  bills  with 
what  I'm  gittin* 
now,"  said  the 
old  fellow. 

The  president 
bit  his  lip  and 
flushed  at  the 
miscarriage  of 
his  attempt  to 
flatter  the  old 
man  into  becom- 
ing his  ally,  and 
said,  with  ill- 
suppressed  an- 
ger: "  I'm  afraid 
the  exorbitant 
wages  that  you 
men  have  been 
receiving  hereto- 
fore have  in- 
duced you  to  live 
extravagantly; 
you  should  econ- 
omize; I  have  to. 
My  salary  has 
been  reduced  in 
"thk  wrecking  train  was  hardly  ever  idle.**  the  same  propor- 

tion as  yours, 
their  money  they  would  have  the  road  put  but  I  don't  go  to  the  board  of  directors 
in  the  hands  of  a  receiver;  and  then  we  and  complain;  I  accept  the  situation,  and 
should  be  paid  in  scrip,  which  we  should  am  willing  to  accept  even  a  further  reduc- 
have  to  sell  for  what  anybody  chose  to  tion,  if  necessary,  to  enable  the  road  to 
give  for  it.  Did  we  think  we  should  be  pull  through.  You  men  don't  understand 
any  better  off  then  ?  the  situation." 

I  said,  "We  don't  think—"  "Hold  "  Probably,"  said  Denny  King,  the  fire- 
on,  young  man,"  said  he;  "you're  doing  man,  "you  get  more  now  than  all  of  us 
altogether   too   much   of  the  talking.      I    put  together." 

want  to  hear  from  some  of  the  others."  "Yes,  I  presume  I  do.  Presidents  are 
Then  pointing  to  the  old  conductor  who  usually  paid  a  higher. salary  than  firemen, 
had  nominated  me  on  the  committee,  he  But  come,  I  haven't  time  to  stand  here 
said:  "You're  an  old  railroad  man,  and,  talking  all  day.  What  do  you  men  want? 
I  presume,  a  man  of  family;  which  would  What  is  it  that  you  expect  me  to  do?" 
you  prefer  to  do — take  home  your  pay  at       "  We  were  sent  here,  sir,  by  all  the  men 


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THE  PRESIDENT  MAKES  A   PROMISE. 


5*7 


engaged  in  train  service,  to  ask  you  to  re- 
store our  pay,  and  they  will  expect  an 
answer  from  you.  What  are  we  to  tell 
them  ?  "  said  I. 

"  You  will  tell  them  that  I  cannot  pos- 
sibly do  so,  at  this  time.  But  as  soon  as 
the  earnings  of  the  road  will  warrant  the 
extra  expense,  I  will  consider  the  matter." 

"Then  you  won't  promise  that  we 
shall  ever  get  it  ?  "  said  I. 

He  was  angry  again,  we  could  see  that; 
but  he  controlled  himself,  thought  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  said:  "  You  may  tell  them 
from  me,  that  every  man  from  the  presi- 
dent down  has  been  included  in  this  re- 
duction of  salaries;  that  I  hope  it  will  be 
only  a  temporary  ne- 
cessity;   and   that 
when  the  time  comes 
to  restore  them,  the 
restoration  shall  be- 
gin with  the  lowest- 
salaried    employees, 
and  I  will  be  the  last 
to  benefit   by  it.     I 
can  say  no  more  now. 
If  that  isn't  satisfac- 
tory   to   you,   you'll 
have  to  do  whatever 
you  see  fit." 

Turning  his  back 
tD  us,  he  sat  down 
and  began  to  write. 
Seeing  that  there  was 
no  more  to  be  said, 
we  walked  out  with- 
out so  much  as  say- 
ing good  day. 

We  made  our  re- 
port to  the  meeting 
that  evening,  and  a 
furious  debate  fol- 
lowed. A  vote  was 
taken  on  the  sense 
of  the  meeting,  and 
it  was  shown  that 
nearly  three-fourths 
of  those  present  were 
in  favor  of  giving  the 
company  ample  time 
to  show  whether  they 
intended  to  deal  fair- 
ly by  us  or  not. 


now  there  commenced  a  series  of  dis- 
charges for  the  most  trivial  causes,  and 
the  victims  were  not  the  radicals  either, 
but  they  were  almost  invariably  the  con- 
servative old  fellows  who  had  been  for 
years  in  the  employ  of  the  company,  who 
had  the  best  trains,  and  considered  them- 
selves fixtures;  and  who  had  wisely  told  us 
that  we  mustn't  think  that  we  could  dic- 
tate to  a  railroad  company. 

Matters  had  been  going  on  like  this  for 
nearly  a  year  when  a  rumor  began  to  cir- 
culate that  the  general  officers  had  been 
put  on  full  pay  again.  This  was  soon 
confirmed  by  one  of  the  daily  papers  in  a 
signed  article.     We  called  a  special  meet- 


TAKING   VENGEANCE 
ON  THE  EMPLOYEES. 

But  it  would  seem 
that  the  president 
was  indeed  bent  on 
having   trouble;   for 


44  sa-ay  !  you've  nominated  about  everybody 


AN     NOW    ...     1    NOMINATE   YOU. 


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ftore  our  -~.--z  f  ••. 
anSWer        r.-    ^ . 

'"em  .>  "  .".":  :■  :<: 
s'^  do"  *'''' *     -v- 

sha«  eve?  ^    *'-  ::n'" 
but  he£aa8tyae£.-~ 

*rcnt     down    iT      eVerVir-- 

on  rMon  o^mSt  bee"  £"- " 

sa'aried  e  ,0» 
an<*  I  win  T'P'oyt 
to  benei   5he ''"  ' 

t0ry  to  ,    sa'' 

haveto/°U'  * 
and  hP„     sat  «■ 

Se4£,;°  - 

Port  to""^  °"r 

Jhat  eve  ne  me«'i 
Sou,  S-  and  £ 
'owed.  4ebafe  foi. 
ta>n  on  .i'ote  *as 
■(  «>e  me,  e  se«se 
"  »»*  s ?>.  and 
n,ear,y  th  ,,"  ""at 

m  favor  0Pfrese"tfrere 

ybyusor„oeta,fa,r- 
TAK,S«    v*„ 
But  i  *"*'** 

Kas  indeed  P,res'dent 


jV 


r'-- 


Hr,M     .  -       • 


5"« 


Vr» 


-"in,*. 


".:#» 


Digitized  by 


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5i* 


THE  PRESIDENT  FORGETS  HIS  PROMISE. 


ing  to  consider  this  new  grievance.  By  this 
time  there  was  no  division  of  opinion.  The 
committee  were  unanimously  instructed 
to  give  the  president  three  hours  to  re- 
store the  wages  of  every  man  on  the  road, 
and  if  he  failed,  a  word  that  had  been 
agreed  upon  was  to  be  sent  by  telegraph 
to  every  conductor  and  engineer  on  the 
road  or  at  work  in  the  yards.  A  switch- 
man was  named  in  each  yard  to  receive 
the  word,  and  he  was  to  post  it  on  the 


bulletin  board  in  the  yard-master's  office, 
besides  giving  it  verbally  to  all  the  men 
whom  he  could  reach.  The  receipt  of  the 
word  "Rain"  constituted  a  notice  for 
every  man  to  stop  work  at  four  p.m.  on 
the  following  day,  no  matter  where  he 
should  be. 

The  same  committee  was  again  sent  to 
interview  the  president.  This  time  we 
were  not  admitted  to  the  inner  office;  he 
stepped  out  into  the  anteroom  and  asked 


♦»THE  CLERKS   \H   THE  OFFICES)  WERE   HUSTLED  OUT  INTO  THE  YAKD." 

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ORDERED  OUT  OF  PRESIDENT'S  OFFICE  AND  DISCHARGED.    519 


us  our  busi- 
ness.     I  re- 
minded   him 
of  his  prom- 
i  s  e :     that 
when   wages 
were     re- 
stored,    he 
would  begin 
at    the    low- 
est-salaried 
man  and  re- 
main   until 
the  last  himsell 
he.     I  handed 
the  article  to 
He  glanced  ov 
to  the  roots  o 
paper  viciousl 
hand,  he  said, 
the  words  hissi 
through  a  leak 
most  outrageo 
subjected;  wh 
here  with  this 
that  you  are  a< 
erate  lying  ?" 

I  told  him  I 
sation;  but,  sc 
author's  name 
that  there  mui 

not,  that  he  would  thank  us  for  having 
called  his  attention  to  it  so  that  he  might 
punish  the  slanderer,  and,  anyhow,  we  had 
been  sent  to  him  to  ask  for  a  restoration 
of  our  pay. 

He  glared  at  me  like  a  wild  beast;  I 
thought  he  would  jump  at  my  throat;  but 
controlling  himself  with  an  effort,  he  said: 
"  I  told  you  men  when  you  were  here  be- 
fore, that  when  the  financial  condition  of 
the  road  warranted  the  restoration  of  the 
former  rate  of  pay,  I  would  consider  the 
matter.  When  that  time  comes,  and  I 
have  considered  it,  you  will  be  informed 
of  my  decision." 

The  brakeman  on  the  committee  chipped 
in  here,  and  asked  him  if  the  report  in  the 
paper,  that  the  general  officers,  including 
himself,  had  had  their  pay  restored,  was 
true  or  not  ? 

"  I  don't  think  you  know  to  whom  you 
are  talking.  I  will  not  be  catechised. 
When  I  have  any  communication  to  make 
to  the  employees,  it  will  be  made  in  the 
usual  manner,  by  means  of  an  order." 

He  was  about  to  return  to  his  sanctum, 
and  seeing  that  there  was  absolutely  no 
hope  of  getting  anything  out  of  him,  I 
said:  "  One  moment,  sir,  if  you  please;  we 
are  not  through  yet.     Our  orders  are  to 


"a  half  brick  struck  a  burly  irishman  in  thb 
small  of  thb  back." 

notify  you  that  unless  an  order  restoring 
our  pay  appears  within  three  hours  we 
will  resign  in  a  body." 

"Who  are  wel" 

"  Every  employee  in  the  train  service 
of  this  railroad." 

"  Very  well.  I  can't  help  it;  and  as  for 
this  committee,  you  can  consider  your- 
selves discharged  now,  and  I  shall  issue 
orders  at  once  to  have  any  of  you  who 
may  be  found  trespassing  on  the  com- 
pany's property  arrested  and  lodged  in 
prison." 

The  door  slammed  and  he  was  gone; 
at  the  same  time  a  policeman  appeared 
from  somewhere,  and  ordered  us  out  of 
the  building. 

A    STRIKE   ON. 

For  the  next  half  or  three-quarters  of 
an  hour  we  kept  a  telegraph  operator  busy 
sending  the  word  "  Rain  "  to  innumerable 
addresses  all  along  the  line.  The  next  day 
at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  every  wheel 
stopped,  and  every  locomotive  fire  was 
dumped  on  more  than  seven  hundred  miles, 
of  railroad,  including  branches  and  leased 
Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


520 


RIOT  AND  DESTRUCTION. 


lines.  The  men  were  a  unit,  and  the 
paralysis  was  perfect. 

That  night  the  road  was  dead.  The 
next  morning  the  papers  blazed  with  ac- 
counts of  the  strike  and  advertisements 
for  help.  Engineers,  firemen,  railroad 
men  of  any  kind,  laborers  who  never  saw 
a  railroad,  anybody  that  could  work,  could 
find  permanent  employment  and  good 
wages  at  the  office  of  the  superintendent 
of  the railroad. 

The  clerks  in  the  offices  were  hustled  out 
into  the  yard,  and  made  to  sweat  and  lac- 
erate their  delicate  hands,  tear  and  soil 
their  clothes,  and  injure  their  tender  feel- 
ings, by  pulling  spikes  from  switches, 
clawing  the  green  coal  out  of  the  fire- 
boxes, dragging  heavy  and  "narsty" 
hoses  to  the  engines,  and  forming  bucket 
and  cordwood  brigades,  while  we  sat  on 
the  fences  and  cheered  them  on  to  their 
unaccustomed  and  unwelcome  toil  by  such 
remarks  as  never  fail  to  present  them- 
selves to  the  mind  under  such  circum- 
stances. The  new  employees,  as  fast  as 
hired,  were  sent  to  help.  Their  appear- 
ance and  awkward  manner  of  going  about 
the  work  offered  fresh  subjects  for  our 
witticisms.  Their  patience  must  have 
been  sorely  tried.  From  jeering  it  was 
but  a  short  step  to  throwing  various  mis- 
siles. The  clerks  dodged  in  fear  and 
trembling,  but  the  laborers  talked  back, 
and  gave  threat  for  threat,  sarcasm  for 
sarcasm. 

At  length  a  half   brick  struck  a  burly 


Irishman  in  the  small  of  the  back  as  he 
was  straining  at  the  clawbar  to  draw  a 
spike.  He  straightened  up  a  moment, 
rubbed  his  sore  back,  and  then  with  a  yell 
of  rage  he  started  for  a  grinning  crowd 
with  the  heavy  clawbar.  It  was  the  one 
spark  necessary  to  kindle  a  furious  con- 
flagration. The  whole  population  of  the 
locality  sympathized  with  us.  They  were 
out  in  force,  and  when  the  interloper  re- 
sented what  was  considered  to  be  his  just 
deserts,  he  found  that  he  had  stirred  up  a 
hornets'  nest.  The  crowd  having  once 
broken  loose,  charged  through  the  yard, 
driving  everything  before  them.  Before 
the  police  arrived  a  dozen  fires  were  started 
in  as  many  different  places;  and  owing  to 
the  impossibility  of  getting  the  fire  engines 
through  the  yard,  over  fifteen  hundred 
cars,  many  of  them  loaded  with  valuable 
merchandise,  were  burned  to  the  ground 
before  the  flames  could  be  extinguished, 
and  seven  locomotives,  their  tanks  and 
boilers  empty,  were  completely  ruined. 
The  night  shut  down  on  a  dreary  scene  of 
smoking  desolation,  where  but  the  day 
before  the  air  had  rung  with  the  cheerful 
sounds  of  busy  commerce.  The  sheriff  tele- 
graphed to  the  governor  for  troops,  say- 
ing that  he  was  unable  to  control  the  mob. 
The  next  morning  militiamen  were  patrol- 
ling the  yard,  and  the  work  proceeded  with 
no  further  interruptions  than  an  occasional 
jeering  by  the  onlookers  at  the  awkward 
attempts  of  the  new  men  to  get  the  few  re- 
maining dead  engines  watered  and  fired  up. 


THK   NIGHT  SHUT   DOWN   ON   A   DREARY  SCENE   OF  SMOKING   DESOLATION." 

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CUTTING    THE  LINE  IN   TWO, 


521 


In  the  meantime  there  was  the  gravest 

trouble   up   the   road.      At   W three 

locomotives  had  been  run  into  the  turn- 
table pit.     A  rock  cut,  about  a  mile  west 
of  the  station,  had  been  choked  by  tum- 
bling its  natural  walls  into  itself.     This  was 
accomplished  by  dropping  cartridges  into 
the  seams  and  cracks  along  the  top  and  on 
both  sides  and  exploding  them,  the  natural 
consequence  being  that  huge  blocks  were 
split  off  and  tumbled  into  the  cut.     The 
idea  was  to  close  the  road  and  prevent 
the  passage  of  trains;  but  after  the  job 
was  done  it  occurred  to  the  perpetrators 
that  there  was  a  branch  that  would  enable 
them  to  run  around  the  obstruction;  so  a 
hand-car  was  loaded  with  rend-rock,  and 
four  men  took  it  to  an 
iron    bridge    five    miles 
further  east,  and  before 
the  second  morning  of 
the  strike   dawned,  the 
bridge  lay  in  the  creek 
and  the  road  was  most 
effectually  "  cut  in  two. " 

It  took  them  three 
days  to  get  the  trains  in. 
Then,'  with  such  men  as 
they  could  pick  up,  they 
began  to  operate  the 
road — after  a  fashion. 
The  president,  having 
now  presumably  recov- 
ered from  the  first  shock 
of  the  strike,  swore  out 
warrants  for  the  arrest 
of  all  the  members  of 
the  committee.  Not 
caring  to  gratify  the 
gentleman's  animosity 
by  serving  the  State  at 
his  request,  I  left  town 
between  two  days,  in 
company  with  my  friend 
Manly.  It  was  some 
time  before,  with  hand 
on  throttle  and  head  out 
of  window,  I  again  went 
spinning  over  the  iron. 


good  wheels  ahead.  He  had  promised  to 
do  so,  but,  as  I  suppose  he  didn't  consider  it 
a  matter  of  immediate  importance,  he  let  it 
go  a  week.  I  let  it  run  for  another  week, 
and  then,  as  I  didn't  consider  the  engine 
to  be  quite  safe  with  them,  I  told  the  fore- 
man that  I  should  have  to  go  to  the  mas- 
ter mechanic  about  it,  if  he  didn't  attend 
to  it  right  away. 

"  All  right,"  said  he;  "  I'll  surely  do  it 
next  trip  in.  I've  been  so  busy  for  the  last 
couple  of  weeks  that  I  couldn't  possibly 
spare  a  man  a  minute  for  any  purpose." 

M  Very  well,"  said  I;  "  I'll  take  her  out 
this  trip;  but  I  won't  take  her  out  again 
until  that  truck's  turned  round;  'tain't 
safe." 


WRECK     OF     AN     EXCUR- 
SION   TRAIN. 

I  had  noticed  that  the 
flanges  on  the  leading 
engine  truck  wheels  were 
getting  worn  pretty  thin 
and  sharp,  and  had 
spoken  to  the  foreman 
about  turning  the  truck 
round,  so  as  to  bring  the 


*  TUB    ENGINK    (  KASIIKD    DIAGONALLY   THROUGH    FOUR   CARb, 

Digitized  by 


>UR  CARb, 

Google 


522 


LEAVING    THE   TRACK   UNDER  FULL   HEADWAY. 


A  heavy  Sunday-school  excursion  train 
left  half  an  hour  ahead  of  me.  As  she 
was  an  extra,  I  had  no  occasion  to  look 
out  for  her;  it  was  her  business  to  keep 
out  of  my  way.  They  had  ten  cars,  every 
seat  filled,  mostly  with  women  and  chil- 
dren. The  ferry-boat  was  ten  minutes 
late,  and  as  our  time  had  been  shortened 
up  fifteen  minutes  on  the  last  time-table, 
I  knew  I  would  have  hard  work  to  get  in 
on  time.  So  as  soon  as  I  got  clear  of  the 
yard,  I  let  the  old  girl  go  for  all  there  was 
in  her,  working  all  the  fine  points  known 
to  engineers  to  get  every  ounce  of  speed 
out  of  her,  and  yet  keep  her  in  steam, 
fire,  and  water.  Eight  miles  out  there 
was  a  low  ridge  over  which  the  road  ran; 
it  was  a  short,  rather  steep  grade  up,  and 
then  a  long  gentle  sweep  down  for  about 
two  miles,  around  a  curve,  and  then  fairly 
level  running  ground  for  the  next  twenty- 
five  miles.  When  she  pitched  over  the  top 
of  the  knoll,  I  started  down  the  long 
grade  at  a  good  gait,  for  here  was  my 
chance  to  get  a  swing  on  to  carry  me  over 
the  long  level  stretch  beyond  the  curve. 

As  she  gathered  headway,  I  hooked  her 
back  a  notch  at  a  time  until  she  was  fly- 
ing like  a  comet.  The  cars  rolled  like 
logs  in  a  lake,  and  as  I  glanced  back  the 
last  two  were  entirely  obscured  by  the 
dense  cloud  of  dust  that  we  tore  up  from 
the  track  as  we  sped  along.  She  was 
going  sixty-five  miles  per  hour  if  she  was 
an  inch.  As  I  approached  the  curve  I 
could  see  that  the  excursion  train  was  in 
the  switch  just  beyond  waiting  for  me.  I 
blew  a  crossing  signal  to  let  them  know 
that  I  was  coming,  because  excursionists 
have  a  great  habit  of  getting  off  and 
spreading  themselves  all  over  creation 
every  time  their  train  stops,  and  I  didn't 
wish  to  kill  any  of  them.  I  fancied  I 
could  hear  the  women  and  children  utter 
little  frightened  screeches  as  we  flew  by 
tfiem. 

It  was  a  long,  easy  curve,  and  yet  the 
speed  was  such  that  she  struck  it  as  sol- 
idly as  if  it  had  been  a  brick  wall;  she 
tossed  her  head  round  for  an  instant,  and 
then  plunged  straight  into  the  side  of 
that  ten-car  train  crammed  full  of  happy 
women  and  children. 

The  flange  of  the  leading  wheel  on  the 
engine  truck  had  broken  and  allowed  the 
engine  to  leave  the  track.  Naturally,  as 
she  tore  the  rails  from  the  ties  in  her  mad 
flight,  the  whole  train  followed  her.  The 
engine  crashed  diagonally  through  four 
cars,  smashing  them  as  effectually  as  you 
could   smash   the   same   number    of  eggs 


with  an  axe.  The  cars  following  rammed, 
telescoped,  and  climbed  over  the  others. 
When  the  engine  stopped  she  lay  on  her 
left  side  beyond  the  siding.  The  cab  was 
gone,  the  fireman  was  gone,  but  on  my 
side  of  the  run-board — at  my  very  feet — 
lay  the  bodies  of  three  little  girls. 

I  tried  to  get  up,  but  found  that  my 
right  leg  was  held  fast  by  one  of  the  cab 
braces  that  had  bent  over  and  jammed  it. 
The  sounds  that  came  from  the  wreck 
were  appalling — yells  and  groans  in  the 
shrill  voices  of  women  and  children,  with 
occasionally  a  deeper  tone,  showing  where 
a  man  was.  I  did  not  know  at  first  that 
I  was  hurt  at  all,  but  now  my  imprisoned 
leg  began  to  pain  me;  then  I  felt  a  suffo- 
cating sensation  within,  as  if  a  blood-ves- 
sel had  been  ruptured  and  I  was  being 
drowned  out  with  my  own  blood.  My 
eyes  became  dim,  my  head  swam,  and  I 
saw  horrible  sights. 

The  next  thing  that  I  knew  I  was  in  a 
hospital,  a  "sister"  bathing  my  forehead 
with  cool  water.  I  tried  to  ask  where  I 
was,  but  she  told  me  to  be  quiet.  It  was 
a  week  before  my  wife  was  allowed  to  see 
me;  she  told  me  that  a  large  number  of 
people  on  both  trains  had  been  killed  out- 
right and  many  more  injured. 

When  the  wrecking-train  was  called, 
the  round-house  foreman,  who  was  called 
to  go  with  it,  disappeared,  leaving  his  job 
and  family  behind;  and  although  we  heard 
occasional  rumors  of  his  having  been  seen 
•in  various  parts  of  the  country,  he  never 
came  back,  and  I  do  not  think  that  his 
family  ever  heard  from  him  afterwards. 

I  had  several  ribs  broken  and  received 
internal  injuries  from  the  effects  of  which 
I  have  never  fully  recovered  to  this  day. 
My  fireman  was  killed  and  his  body  com- 
pletely dismembered,  but  no  other  em- 
ployee on  our  train,  strange  to  say,  was 
at  all  severely  injured.  The  baggage- 
master  was  found  buried  under  a  huge 
pile  of  heavy  trunks  which  had  been  piled 
to  the  roof  on  each  side  of  the  car,  and 
although  the  car  rolled  over  on  its  side, 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  bruises  he 
was  unhurt. 

I  was  exonerated  from  all  blame  both 
by  the  coroner  and  the  company,  and  or- 
dered to  report  for  duty  as  soon  as  I  felt 
able  to  do  so;  but  though  I  had  never  been 
the  least  bit  squeamish  over  accidents  be- 
fore, this  one  took  a  strong  hold  on  me. 
There  were  several  families  in  the  little 
town  where  I  lived  that  had  relatives 
maimed  or  killed  in  the  wreck;  and  though 
I  knew  that  I  was  not  legally  responsible, 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  LAST  RUN  AS  ENGINEER.  523 


yet  the  thought  that  I 
might  have  prevented  it  by 
refusing  to  take  the  engine 
out  tormented  me  so  that 
I  could  hardly  sleep  nights. 
My  appetite  failed  and  I 
became  thin,  weak,  and 
nervous.  Finally,  during 
a  conversation  with  my 
wife,  I  promised  her  never 
to  touch  a  locomotive 
throttle  again,  and,  with 
one  exception,  I  never 
have. 


AN      ENCOUNTER      WITH     A 
DRUNKEN    ENGINEER. 

The  circumstances  of 
this  one  exception  were  pe- 
culiar. I  had  now  become 
a  conductor,  and  I  was 
called  on  one  day  to  take 
out  a  special, — a  frequent 
occurrence,  as  the  land 
speculators  were  in  the 
habit  of  giving  free  excur- 
sions occasionally  to  pros- 
pective purchasers.  It  was 
a  hot  day,  and  when  I 
went  ahead  to  speak  to  the 
engineer  and  see  if  he  was 
ready,  I  noticed  that  he 
looked  flushed  and  warm, 
but  paid  no  attention,  as 
it  was  quite  natural  that 
he  should  on  such  a  day. 

We    had    a   little    talk   COn-      **  HE    .     .    .     NEARLY  squelched  the  breath  out  of  my  body  as  he  fell  on 

cerning  the  trains  and  .  TOP  OF  MB«" 
where  we  had  better  side- 
track, and  it  was  agreed  that  we  would  not  trying  for  the  next  siding,  eight  miles  fur- 
be  able  to  make  more  than  ten  miles  before  ther  along.  If  he  kept  up  the  gait  that 
we  would  have  to  take  the  switch  for  the  he  was  going, — and  it  was  an  open  ques- 
first  inward-bound  train.  When  the  pas-  tion  whether  he  could  or  not, — he  would 
sengers  were  all  on  I  gave  the  signal  and  he  reach  the  switch  five  minutes  before  the 
pulled  out  with  a  jerk,  slipping  his  drivers  opposing  train  was  due,  which  was  not 
in  a  way  that  was  irritating  to  an  old  engi-  time  enough;  besides,  a  thousand  and  one 
neer  like  myself.  Before  we  were  clear  of  things  might  happen  to  reduce  his  speed, 
the  yard  he  was  going  at  a  forty-mile  gait  And  if  the  steam  dropped  five  pounds  it 
and  the  cars  were  thumping  over  the  frogs  would  knock  him  out.  What  could  he  be 
and  switches  at  a  great  rate.  I  wondered  thinking  of  ?  I  wondered, 
what  he  was  going  so  fast  for,  because  we  We  were  within  an  eighth  of  a  mile  of 
had  plenty  of  time  to  get  to  the  switch  and  the  near  end  of  the  siding  and  I  pulled 
there  was  no  possibility  of  our  going  any  the  bell;  but  he  passed  the  switch  without 
further.  When  we  struck  out  into  the  open  slackening  his  speed,  and  paid  not  the 
country  the  speed  increased  until  I  re-  slightest  attention  to  my  signal.  I  stepped 
marked  to  the  baggage-master  that  the  en-  into  the  smoker  and  pulled  the  air-valve 
gineer  seemed  to  be  in  an  immense  hurry,  wide  open  that  set  the  Westinghouse 
I  looked  at  my  watch,  made  a  rapid  men-  brakes,  and  brought  the  train  to  a  stand- 
tal  calculation,  and  decided  that  he  was  still  just  as  the  last  car  cleared  the  switch. 

Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


5*4 


TAKING    THE   THROTTLE  BY  FORCE. 


I  told  the  rear  man  to  open  the  switch  so 
that  we  could  back  in,  and  jumped  down 
on  the  ground  to  give  the  engineer  the 
signal.  As  I  came  in  sight  of  the  cab,  he 
stuck  his  head  out  of  the  window  and 
shouted  to  me  in  a  thick,  unsteady  voice, 
which  explained  at  once  what  the  trouble 
was,  "  Say,  did  you  pull  the  air  on  me  ?  " 
and  he  called  me  everything  but  a  decent 
white  man. 

There  was  no  time  to  blarney  with  him. 
I  went  back  into  the  smoker  and  got  the 
ventilator  stick,  which  I  concealed  under 
my  coat.  I  then  told  the  head  brakeman 
to  come  with  me  and  look  out  for  the  en- 
gineer when  I  should  get  him  out  of  the 
cab,  and  I  told  the  baggage-master  that 
I  would  blow  three  short  whistles  when  I 
got  control  of  the  engine,  in  case  I  found 
that  I  was  unable  to  relieve  the  brakes, 
and  in  that  case  he  should  crawl  under 
the  cars  and  bleed  them  off.  I  saw  that 
neither  of  them  relished  the  jobs  that  I 
had  set  them,  and  I  knew  that  by  many 
of  the  men  I  was  regarded  as  an  interloper 
from  the  East,  so  there  was  a  chance  that 
they  might  be  more  than  willing  to  see 
me  stuck.  However,  this  was  a  time  for 
action,  not  words;  so,  calling  to  the  brake- 
man  to  come  on,  I  again  jumped  off,  on 
the  left  side,  and,  shouting  to  the  rear 
man  to  go  back  with  his  flag,  I  ran  quickly 
ahead  to  the  engine,  where  I  could  hear 
the  engineer  vainly  attempting  to  release 
the  brake  and  cursing  away  to  himself 
and  the  fireman  as  I  stepped  lightly  up 
into  the  tender. 

As  I  got  up  on  the  left  side,  neither  of 
them  saw  me  at  first.  The  fireman  was 
sitting  on  his  seat,  watching  the  engineer 
and  idly  ringing  the  bell,  while  the  en- 
gineer himself  was  just  in  the  act  of  pull- 
ing the  reverse  lever  over  to  "take  the 
slack, *'  hoping,  no  doubt,  to  be  able  to 
start  her  in  spite  of  the  brakes. 

I  let  him  get  her  in  the  back  motion, 
and  then  seizing  him  by  both  shoulders,  I 
settled  back  with  all  my  might,  dragging 
him  from  the  foot-board  down  on  top  of 
myself.  He  was  a  big,  fat  fellow,  and 
nearly  squelched  the  breath  out  of  my 
body  as  he  fell  on  top  of  me,  the  wet 
coal  splashing  from  under  us,  as  when  a 
barrel  is  dropped  into  the  water.      It  cost 


me  a  couple  of  minutes'  hard  struggle  to 
turn  him  over,  but,  having  done  so,  I 
didn't  hesitate  to  give  him  a  hearty  rap 
with  the  ventilator  stick,  which  quieted 
him  at  once;  then  I  looked  for  my  valu- 
able assistant.  He  was  on  the  ground, 
looking  on.  "  Get  out  ahead  there  and 
flag,"  said  I,  and  away  he  went.  Then, 
stepping  up  in  the  cab,  I  found,  to  my 
great  relief,  that  I  was  able  to  let  the 
brakes  off  from  there,  the  air-pump  having 
had  time  to  get  the  pressure  up  while  I 
had  been  arranging  matters  with  the  en- 
gineer; so,  telling  the  fireman  to  get  off 
and  close  the  switch  after  me,  I  backed 
the  train  in  and  called  my  head  flag.  By 
this  time  the  engineer  showed  signs  of  re- 
turning consciousness;  so  I  found  a  piece 
of  bell-cord  in  the  tank-box,  and,  calling 
on  the  baggage-master  and  brakeman,  we 
tied  him  and  put  him  in  the  baggage  car. 
By  that  time  the  opposing  train  had 
passed,  and  I  started  the  train.  The  fire- 
man, who  was  not  any  too  sober,  here  in- 
terfered, saying  he  wouldn't  fire  for  "no 
brass-bound  conductor!  "  My  blood  was 
pretty  well  up  now,  so  I  jumped  down  in 
the  tank  and  argued  with  him  for  about 
three  minutes  in  a  manner  that  convinced 
him  that  his  easiest  way  was  to  do  what- 
ever the  "brass-bound  conductor"  told 
him  to. 

I  stopped  at  the  first  telegraph  office 
and  sent  back  for  an  engineer.  They  sent 
me  one,  so  that  I  only  had  to  run  the  en- 
gine one  way;  but  I  was  a  sight  for  gods 
and  men  when  I  returned  to  the  train.  My 
coat  was  split  up  the  back  and  one  sleeve 
torn  entirely  out.  I  was  drenched  from 
head  to  foot  in  the  inky  black  water  into 
which  I  had  fallen  in  the  tender,  and  had 
a  bad  cut  in  the  back  of  my  head,  from 
which  the  blood  had  flowed  copiously,  con- 
tributing a  variety  to  the  otherwise  som- 
ber uniformity  of  my  dirt. 

The  engineer  was,  of  course,  discharged ; 
and  the  head  brakeman,  for  having  failed 
to  assist  me  in  capturing  the  engine,  was 
jacked  up  for  thirty  days.  As  no  one 
had  seen  the  scrap  between  the  fireman 
and  me,  and  as  he  turned  out  to  be  a  very 
decent  fellow,  with  a  widowed  mother  to 
support,  I  omitted  making  any  report 
against  him. 


Editor's  Note.— This  is  the  last  of  Mr.  Hamblen's  papers  depicting  the  life  of  the  railroad  worker  as  it  is  in  actual 
daily  experience.  With  this  veritable  record  before  them,  our  readers  will  now  be  particularly  interested  in  some  short 
stories  soon  to  begin  in  the  Magazine,  which  give  the  story-teller's  presentation  of  the  same  life.  The  author  of  these  sto- 
ries, Mr.  John  A.  Hill,  like  Mr.  Hamblen,  has  been  "all  through  it"  himself.  He  was  a  locomotive  engineer  on  the  Rio 
Grande  in  the  early  days  when  every  "  run  "  yielded  a  strange  adventure.  The  stories  were  published  some  years  ago  in 
a  railroad  journal,  but  their  extraordinary  combination  of  truth  to  fact  with  rare,  romantic  incident  makes  them  of  as 
much  interest  to  the  general  public  as  to  railroad  people,  and  justifies  their  re-publication.  A  remarkably  strong  and 
original  story  by  Mr.  Hill,  entitled  "The  Polar  Zone,"  but  not  strictly  a  railroad  story,  will  be  printed  in  the  May  number. 


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The  Row  of  Dominoes 


B  Y 


RANK 


R 


N 


The  Fird  Domino 

HE*  appearance  of  a  police 
court  in    Chicago   is   very 
like  what  I  imagine  the  seat 
of  justice  must  have  been  in 
i         the  gates  of  an  oriental  city, 
^     where  all  who  had  griev- 
ances crowded  unceremoni- 
ously about   the   judge   and  vociferously 
argued  their  cases,  which  were  decided  by 
the  magistrate  with  summary  decision.     In 
front  of  the  police  justice's  desk  there  is  a 
jam  of   miscellaneous   and   generally  un- 
washed and  disreputable  humanity.    There 
are   thugs,   vagrants,   thieves,   confidence 
men,  and  drunkards,  together  with  inter- 
ested friends,  curious  onlookers,  and  the 
officers.     The  justice  calls  the  case,  and 
the  parties  concerned  push  their  way  to  his 
desk,  which  is  on  an  elevated  platform,  so 
that  the  chins  of  the  litigants  just  appear 
above  the   edge 
of  it.  He  glances 
at  the  upturned 
faces,  swiftly  ad- 
ministers  the 
oath  in  a  scarce- 
lyarticulatemut- 
ter,      and     tells 
them   to   go    on 
and      tell     what 
they      know. 
While    they   are 
making    their 
statements   the 
justice    is    busy 
signing  warrants 


and  making  entries  on  the  sheet  before  him. 
Occasionally  an  affidavit  is  handed  him 
which  he  looks  over;  then  rises,  and  with- 
out interrupting  the  witness,  administers 
an  oath  to  some  person  away  back  in  the 
mass,  who  raises  his  hand,  nods  his  head, 
and  goes  away. 

On  this  particular  occasion  an  old  man 
was  brought  into  court  charged  with  steal- 
ing a  bottle  of  gin  from  a  department 
store.  This  he  had  done  by  slyly  setting 
down  over  it  a  wrapper  of  brown  paper, 
done  up  to  look  like  a  parcel,  but  with  one 
end  open.  When  he  picked  up  his  parcel 
again,  it  would  not  have  been  perceived 
that  the  bottle  was  in  it,  had  not  a  house 
detective  observed  the  whole  transaction. 

After  the  detective  had  made  his  com- 
plaint and  rehearsed  the  facts  in  the  case, 
the  magistrate  addressed  the  culprit: 

"Well,  sir,  what  have  you  to  say  for 
yourself  ?" 

"  Your  honor,"  replied  he,  "I  took  it. 


a  jam  0/ miscellaneous  and  generally  unwashed  and  disreputable  humanity.** 


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526 


THE  ROW  OF  DOMINOES. 


I  don't  deny  it.  But  I  took  it  to  get 
bread  for  my  family.  I  haven't  had  any 
work  for  three  months.  My  daughter  had 
a  job  at  Frank  Brothers',  but  lost  it  a 
week  ago.  My  boy  was  a  messenger  for 
the  express  company,  but  a  few  days  back 
he  was  let  out  too.  My  wife  is  an  in- 
valid. What  to  do  I  didn't  know.  Just 
the  other  day  a  neighbor  of  mine  dropped 
in,  and  we  got  to  talking.  I  told  him  my 
situation,  and  that  I  had  about  made  up 
my  mind  to  steal.  'Well,'  he  says,  'I 
don't  know  but  that's  a  good  plan.  I 
knew  of  a  man  once — he  was  friend  of 
mine — and  he  was  in  just  your  fix,  to  a 
t-y-ty.     I'll  tell  you  about  him,'  he  says." 


The  Second 
Domino    set  up 


This  man's  name  was  Dennis  Fagan. 
He  lived  over  on  Halsted  Street.  He  was 
an  iron  molder  and  a  good  workman,  and 
as  industrious  as  ever  a  man  was.  When 
the  big  strike  came  on,  he  was  thrown  out 
of  a  place.  He  went  around  hunting 
something  to  do,  but  he  couldn't  find  any- 
thing. He  had  some  forty  dollars  that 
his  wife  had  saved  up,  and  that  supported 
them  for  a  while.  But  by  and  by  that  ran 
out.  He  was  tramping  the  streets  the 
whole  time,  and  never  a  job  could  he  strike. 
At  last  he  gets  desperate  and  says  to  him- 
self that  he'll  steal  something  before  he'll 
see  his  children  starve.  There  was  a 
butcher  shop  near  by  his  house,  and  it  was 
right  on  the  corner  of  a  street  and  an 
alley.  Dennis  had  been  past  there  many 
a  time,  and  had  noticed  that  there  was  a 
window  in  the  shed  back  of  the  store.  In 
this  window  he  had  often  observed  there 
was  meat  hanging  up,  a  ham  or  a  shoulder 
of  mutton  or  a  quarter  of  beef.  So  he 
makes  up  his  mind  he  will  go  and  take 
some  meat  out  of  that  window.  So  one 
night  he  goes  and  watches  around  until 
about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
then,  when  there's  nobody  passing  and  he 
thinks  the  coast  is  all  clear,  he  sneaks  down 
the  alley  and  begins  work  on  the  window. 
He  gets  it  open,  and  is  just  making  off  with 
a  nice  big  ham  when  along  comes  a  police- 
man and  nabs  him.  "  What  are  you  doing 
with  that  ham  ?  "  says  he. 

"  I'm  a-taking  it  home,"  says  Denny. 

"  Well,  this  is  a  pretty  time  of  night  to 


be  a-taking 
meat  home," 
says  the  po- 
liceman. "  I 
guess  I'll  run 
you  in,"  says 
he. 

"Why  should 
you  be  arrest- 
i  n  g  me?" 
says  Denny. 
"  I'm  an  hon- 
est man," 
says  he.  "I've 
been  out  till 
late  at  work 
over  on  the 
North  Side, 
and  never  got 
home  till 
twelve,  and 
the  old  wom- 
an made  me 
go  and  get 
this  meat 
that   she   had 

bought  to-day,  and  bring  it  home  so  the 
children  could  have  it  for  breakfast," 
says  he. 

"  That's  a  pretty  story,"  says  the  offi- 
cer. "You  remind  me  of  a  fellow  my 
partner  was  a-telling  me  about  the  other 
evening." 


911 


the  Third 
Domino 
set  up 


My  partner  was  on  the  detective  force 
of  the  drainage  canal  last  year.  The  men 
employed  there  were  mostly  of  the  tough 
sort,  and  they  gave  the  neighbors  along 
the  line  of  the  work  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
with  their  pilfering  and  brawling  and  dis- 
orderly conduct  one  way  and  another. 
There  had  been  considerable  complaint, 
and  the  chief  had  given  the  officers  strict 
orders  to  keep  close  lookout  for  all  who 
were  acting  suspiciously.  One  night  my 
partner,  whose  name  was  Tompkins,  was 
coming  down  the  street  of  a  little  village, 
near  by  one  of  the  laborers'  camps,  and 
was  keeping  close  to  the  dark  side  of  the 
street,  under  the  shadow  of  the  houses, 
where  the  moonshine  wouldn't  disclose 
him,  and  he  saw  a  fellow  trying  to  get  into 
a  store.  He  was  picking  at  the  lock  of  the 
door  when  Tompkins  caught  sight  of  him. 


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Tompkins 
sneaked  up  as 
close  as  he 
could  without 
alarming  the 
fellow,  and 
then  he  cov- 
ered him  with 
his  revolver 
and  ordered 
him  to  throw 
up  both  his 
hands. 

"Don't 
shoot,"  says 
the  man, 
"  don't  shoot. 
This  is  my 
store.  I  left 
something  in 
it  that  I  have 
to  get,  and  I 
forgot  my 
key." 

1 '  That  may 
be     all     so," 
says  Tomp- 
kins, "  but  you  can   explain  that   to  the 
judge.       Your     actions     are     suspicious. 
You'll  come  along  with  me." 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  says  the  fellow. 
"  I'm  an  officer  of   the  law,"  answers 
Tompkins,  showing  his  star. 

"  Well,  if  that  don't  beat  the  mischief!  " 
says  the  man,  and  then  he  burst  out  laugh- 
ing. "  Arrested  for  breaking  into  my  own 
store!  "  says  he. 

"That's  all  right,"  says  Tompkins, 
"  but  you  go  along  in  front  of  me,  and 
don't  you  try  to  get  away  or  give  me 
trouble,  or  you'll  be  lame." 


'  Don't  sheet?  says  the  mm,  '  don't 


So  they  went  on,  the  fellow  marching 
before  and  my  partner  right  behind  him. 
As  they  were  going  along  the  fellow  says. 


The    , 
Fburth 
Domino 
set  up 


Say,  this  is  rich.  By  gum!  Arrested 
for  burgling  my  own  store!  Say,  officer, 
this  reminds  me  of  a  case  that  happened 
an  uncle  of  mine  in  the  war.  He  was  in 
Sherman's  army  when  it  was  going  from 
Atlanta  to  the  sea,  you  know.  They  had 
made  camp  one  night  down  in  southern 
Georgia  somewhere,  and  my  uncle,  with  a 
lot  of  other  boys,  concluded  to  go  out  for- 
aging. Victuals  weren't  so  mighty  plenty, 
and  there  was  a  sort  of  an  understanding 
that  when  the  boys  got  a  chance,  they  could 
shift  for  themselves.  So  this  night,  about 
midnight,  Uncle  George  and  six  or  seven 
others  stole  out  of  camp  and  made  for  a 
farmhouse  they  had  seen  that  day  back  a 
piece  on  the  road.  After  an  hour's  walk 
they  got  to  the  place,  and  succeeded  in 
bagging  a  couple  of  dozen  chickens.  They 
wrung  their  necks,  and  put  them  in  a  sack, 
and  started  for  camp.  They  hadn't  gone 
far  till  they  heard  horses'  hoofs  behind 
them,  and  thinking  the  guerrillas  were 
after  them,  they  broke  for  the  woods  on 
either  side  of  the  road.  They  got  sepa- 
rated, and  it  was  nearly  daybreak  before 
Uncle  George  came  to  our  sentries.  He 
was  alone,  for  he  had  lost  the  rest  of  the 
boys  in  their  run  through  the  timber.  The 
sentry  stopped    him,  and  asked  him    for 


••  •  1VtU%  if  that  don't  beat  the  mUchie/t '  says  the  man,  < 


t  then  he  burst  out  laufhin*;" 

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the  countersign;  and,  sir,  by  jing!  Uncle 
George  had  clean  forgot  it.  No,  sir, 
couldn't  think  of  it  to  save  his  life.  There 
wasn't  any  use  trying  to  argue  with  the 


ing  to  peek  around  the  corner  of  the  house 
to  see  who  was  in  front.  He  left  the  side 
door  open  so  that  he  could  get  back.  He 
crept   around   the  walk   and  looked,   but 


and  there  he  was 


he  worked  at  the  door  a  little,  and  then  gmve  It  **>.** 


sentinel,  and  so  he  had  to  sit  there  under 
guard.  The  sentry  knew  him  well,  but 
he  couldn't  do  anything  but  arrest  him 
unless  he  could  think  of  that  password. 
So  Uncle  George  he  sat  there  cursing  his 
luck.     Pretty  soon  he  says: 


Domino 


Say,  Ed — Ed  Beecham  was  the  picket's 
name — say,  Ed,  says  he,  this  is  something 
like  old  man  Fister's  experience  when  his 
wife  wouldn't  let  him  into  the  house,  isn't 
it  ?  Ed  said  he  didn't  remember  hearing 
that  one.  Well,  says  Uncle  George,  you 
remember  old  man  Fister  used  to  live  in 
that  big  house  in  Naperville,  out  in  the 
edge  of  town  ?  He  was  a  miserly  old 
codger,  and  terribly  afraid  of  burglars  and 
thieves,  and  his  wife  was  a  heap  more  fid- 
gety than  he  was.  He  used  to  keep  his 
house  locked  up  with  patent  locks  on  the 
doors,  and  always  had  a  gun  handy  where 
he  could  shoot  anybody  prowling  around. 
One  night  he  thought  he  heard  a  noise  like 
some  one  was  picking  at  the  lock  on  the 
front  door.  He  lay  still  awhile,  and  the 
noise  kept  on.  He  crept  out  of  bed,  and 
started  to  investigate,  keeping  quiet  so  he 
wouldn't  wake  his  wife  up.  He  sneaked 
down  stairs  and  out  at  the  side  door,  aim- 


there  wasn't  anybody  there  at  the  front 
door.  He  went  up-  to  it  and  listened,  and 
he  could  hear  a  gnawing  sound  inside.  It 
was  a  rat  that  he  had  heard.  Calling  him- 
self a  fool  he  went  back,  but  just  as  he 
got  to  the  door  he  had  left  open,  a  gust  of 
wind  blew  it  shut.  And  there  he  was, 
with  nothing  on  but  his  night-shirt.  He 
didn't  have  a  key,  and  the  door  was  fas- 
tened with  one  of  these  new-fangled  spring 
locks  that  wouldn't  open  for  love  nor 
money.  He  worked  at  the  door  a  little, 
and  then  gave  it  up.  Then  he  went  around 
to  the  windows,  but  they  were  all  fastened 


*  Uncle  George  had  clean  forgot  it  I" 


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•  The  -watchman  earn*  u/  and  ordered  hint  to  surrender.9 


tighter  than  wax  with  bolts  and  things. 
It  was  in  the  spring,  and  not  so  mighty 
cold;  but  along  about  this  time  in  the 
morning  it  was  considerably  chilly  for  a 
man  that  didn't  have  anything  on  but  a 
shirt  that  took  him  just  below  the  knees. 
There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  try  to 
wake  his  wife.  So  he  went  to  the  front 
door  and  rattled  it.  It  was  sometime  be- 
fore he  aroused  her,  and  when  he  did  she 
woke  up  with  a  yell,  thinking  that  the 
burglars  had  got  her  sure.  She  felt  over 
for  her  husband,  and  when  she  discovered 
he  wasn't  there,  she  was  more  scared  than 
ever.  She  didn't  waste  any  time  seeing 
who  it  was  banging  at  the  door,  but  she 
just  hoisted  the  window  and  let  out  screech 
after  screech  for  the  police.  Now,  it  hap- 
pened that  there  was  a  new  man  on  for 
town  watchman  that  night,  a  man  that 
didn't  know  Fister.  He 
chanced  to  be  near,  and  came 
running  up  with  his  gun 
ready  to  shoot  the  first  thing 
he  saw. 

11  Don't  shoot,  please 
don't  !  "  says  Fister,  shaking 
with  fear  and  cold. 

The  watchman  came  up 
and  ordered  him  to  surren- 
der. Fister  said  he  would  be 
glad  to  surrender,  as  he  was 
freezing  to  death.  He  begged 
the  watchman  to  let  him  go 
to  the  barn  for  a  horse-blanket 
to  wrap  himself  in.  So  they 
went  to  the  barn  and  got  the 
blanket,  and  Fister  was  quite 
comfortable. 

"  Now,"  he  says,  "  if  you 
will  just  let  me  tell  that  idiot 
of  a  woman  up  there  who  I 


am,  it'll  be  all  right.  My  name  is  Fister. 
I  own  this  house.  I  thought  I  heard  bur- 
glars, and  came  out  to  find  them,  and  the 
door  slammed  on  me,  and  not  having  any 
key  I  couldn't  get  back." 

They  went  around  to  the  window  where 
the  woman  had  been  screaming,  but  she 
wasn't  there.  She  had  got  so  scared  that 
she  had  gone  back  to  bed  and  covered  her 
head  up  in  the  bedclothes.  Fister  yelled 
and  yelled,  but  the  old  woman  was  a  little 
deaf  and  a  heap  scared,  and  couldn't  have 
heard  Gabriel's  trumpet. 

"Well,  if  this  don't  beat  the  Jews!" 
say's  Fister.  "  This  is  about  the  awkward- 
est  mess  I  ever  heard  tell  of.  It  reminds 
me  of  what  the  school-teacher  told  us  last 
night  about  what  happened  to  a  king  once 
in  those  books  of  his." 

Muffling  himself  in  the  blanket,  Fister 
sat  down  on  a  rustic  seat  with  the  watch- 
man, under  the  window,  and  proceeded  to 
tell: 


7%e  Sixth  Domino 
set 
up 


The   school-teacher   said   there   was    a 
king  once  in  one  of  those  Eastern  coun- 
tries that  thought  he  would  like  to  do  a 
little  investigating  on  his  own  account  to 
see  about  the  condition  of  things  among 
his  people,  for  he  had  a  suspicion  that  his 
ministers  and  courtiers  were  lying  to  him. 
So  one  night  he  put  on  a  dis- 
guise and  escaped  from  the 
palace  when  everybody 
thought  he  was  in   bed  and 
asleep,  and  started  out.     He 
sauntered    along    the   street 
seeing   what    he   could   see. 
All   of   a   sudden   a   woman 
jumped  out   from  behind   a 
porch,  and,  catching  hold  of 
his  coat,  asked  him  to  come 
along  and  help  her,  for  she 
was  in  great  trouble.     The 
king  talked  with  her  a  little, 
trying     to     find     out     what 
was   her   difficulty;    but  she 
wouldn't   say   anything    ex- 
cept she  was  in  great  distress 
and  would   be  ruined  unless 
some  noble   stranger   would 
come  to  her  rescue.      They 
That  settled  it /or  him,-  talked   on    until    they   came 


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under  the  light  that  shone  from  a  shop 
window,  and  then  the  king  noticed  that 
the  woman  was  mighty  pretty.  That  set- 
tled it  for  him,  for  he  was  fond  of  a  beau- 
tiful woman,  as  kings  usually  are.  So  he 
said  all  right,  he'd  go.  She  led  him  along 
through  the  streets  until  they  came  to  a 
great  big  house.  She  opened  the  door  with 
her  key,  and  in  they  went,  she  cautioning 
him  to  keep  quiet  as  he  valued  his  life. 
Taking  his  hand  she  toled  him  on,  and 
they  came  to  a  door,  which  she  opened. 
Going  into  the  room,  he  saw  by  the  dim 
light  of  a  lamp  that  there  was  a  bed  there 
and  the  form  of  a  man  on  it.  He  went  up 
to  the  bed  to  look  at  the  man  and  saw 
that  he  was  dead,  and  the  blood  had  run 
out  of  the  wound  in  his 
breast  all  over  the  sheets. 
Just  then  the  woman  set 
up  a  loud  hollo  for  help, 
and  cried  bloody  mur- 
der. 

The  servants  came 
running  in,  and  then, 
sir,  by  cracky,  if  she 
didn't  go  and  lay  the 
murder  of  that  man 
on  the  bed  on  to  the 
king! 

Well,  the  upshot  of  it 
was  that  they  bound  him 
hand  and  foot  and  threw 
him  into  a  dungeon.  The 
next  morning  they  led 
him  before  a  judge,  and 
the  woman  came  there 
and  swore  point  blank 
that  she  had  seen  the 
king  murder  her  hus- 
band, when  all  along, 
you  know,  she  did  it 
herself.  The  judge 
asked  the  king  then 
what  he  had  to  say  for 
himself  why  he  shouldn't  ...  .  .  they  b(mMd  htm 
be  choked  to  death  with  him  into 

a  bow-string.     The  king 
was   brave,   and   wasn't 
frightened  much,  and  he  said   the  whole 
business  was  a  lie;  and  then  he  told  the 
straight  of  the  matter,  but  without  letting 
on  who  he  was. 

But  the  woman,  or  some  of  her  people, 
slipped  money  into  the  judge's  hand,  and 
he  was  for  hanging  the  king  right  off. 
The  king  said  that  was  a  curious  way  of 
dispensing  justice.  He  said  it  made  him 
think  of  a  story  that  had  been  told  him  the 
other  day  about  a  monarch  that  got  into 
difficulty. 


tbe 
Seventh  Domino 


This  monarch,  said  the  king,  was  called 
Fan-wing,  and  he  was  the  emperor  of  the 
Chinese.  He  lived  away  back  yonder  some 
thousands  of  years  ago.  One  time  he  was 
having  a  war  with  the  Jews,  and  his  army 
was  besieging  one  of  their  cities.  Just 
for  fun  the  emperor 
went  out  one  night  with 
a  company  of  his  sol- 
diers, disguised  as  a  com- 
mon person,  to  see  if 
they  couldn't  make  a 
sneak  into  the  enemy's 
walls.  Unfortunately  the 
whole  batch  of  them  was 
captured.  They  were 
cast  into  prison,  and  the 
jailer  treated  them  scan- 
dalously. Butthedaugh- 
ter  of  the  jailer  saw  this 
emperor,  and  fell  in  love 
with  him,  and  used  to 
bring  him  knick-knacks 
and  things,  and  finally 
she  connived  so  that  he 
escaped.  Not  long  after 
this  the  city  fell.  The 
emperor  ordered  the  jail- 
er and  his  family  to  be 
looked  after  and  brought 
before  him.  When  the 
jailer  came  into  the  em- 
peror's presence  and  saw 
that  it  was  his  old  pris- 
*    -    ;  ,  .    v  .u  -.     oner  that  he  had  so  mis- 

hana  and  foot  and  threw 

a  dungeon."  used,  he  was  scared,  you 

bet  ;  but  the  girl  had 
hopes,  because  Fan- 
wing  had  talked  sweet  to  her,  and  had 
promised  in  the  cell  that  if  he  ever  got 
out  of  that  he  would  do  something  hand- 
some to  the  lady  that  had  treated  him  so 
kindly. 

"Well,"  says  the  emperor,  "you  old 
rip,  what  have  you  got  to  say  for  your- 
self ?  You  treated  us  outrageous  when 
you  had  us,  and  it's  nothing  but  fair  that 
I  should  rub  it  into  you,  now  I've  got 
you." 

The  jailer  threw  himself  down   on  the 


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.    .    he  was  scared,  yoM  bet ;  but  the  girl  had  hopes. 


floor  and  fairly  wallowed  and  begged  for 
mercy,  and  promised  never  to  do  it  again. 

"  I  don't  much  think  you  will,"  says  the 
monarch,  kind  of  significant  like,  "  be- 
cause you're  liable  to  have  throat  trouble 
mighty  soon.  As  for  your  beautiful 
daughter,  I'm  going  to  marry  her;  but 
I've  a  notion  to  have  your  measly  head 
whacked  off  at  onoe." 

"Alas!"  says  the  jailer,  "this  is  like 
the  case  of  our  father  Adam." 

"And  what  was  that?"  asks  the  em- 
peror, for  those  Orientals  are  always  keen 
to  hear  a  yarn. 


the 
Eighth 

Well,  says  the  jailer,    ^™**<> 
it's     all     about     how     9et  UP 
Adam     came    to     his 
death.        Didn't     you 
ever  hear   that  ?     The   emperor   said   he 
never  had   heard  it,  and   the   jailer  went 
on.      Adam  was  only  nine   hundred  and 
thirty  years  old,  when  one  day  he  was  out 
in  the  woods  and  was  surrounded  by  a 
troop  of  lions.     They  grabbed  him  before 
he  could  get  away,  and  took  him  to  their 
king,  an  old  lion  that  lived  up  in  the  moun- 


tains. When  they  had  got  there  and  he 
was  brought  up  before  the  great  beast,  he 
was  asked  what  his  name  was.  He  said 
it  was  Adam.  Then  they  asked  him  what 
kind  of  a  creature  he  was,  and  he  said, 
"A  Man."  And  when  he  said  that,  the 
old  king  lion  got  mad  in  a  jiffy. 

"  You  are  of  that  race  that  slays  all  the 
other  beasts!"  he  says.  "One  of  my 
people  strayed  near  your  dwelling  not  long 
ago,  and  you  slew  him  and  skinned  him. 
What  have  you  to  say  why  you  also  should 
not  be  slain  and  skinned  ?  " 

"Your  majesty,"  says  Adam,  "all  I 
can  say  is  to  remind  you  of  an  incident 
that  occurred  to  one  of  my  children.  He 
was " 

The  Eighth.  Domino 


"  No,  you  don't!  "  says  the  king  lion. 
"This  reminding  business  has  gone  far 
enough.  We  have  got  back  to  the  first 
man  now,  and  if  we  reverse  this  thing  and 
start  again  towards  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, there'll  be  no  stopping  it.  It  might 
as  well  end  right  now." 

Whereupon  the  beasts  fell  upon  Adam 
and  finished  him. 


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The  Seventh  Domino 
III'  Nit*/** 


11  Very  well,"  remarked  the  emperor, 
"  what  is  good  enough  for  Adam  is  good 
enough  for  you."  So  he  ordered  the 
jailor  to  be  executed,  and  made  his  daugh- 
ter his  135th  wife. 


The  Sixth 
Domino 
fails/ft 


When  the  king  had  ended  his  story,  some 
of  the  courtiers  happened  in  the  court- 
room, recognized  him,  and  rescued  him. 
The  king  then  commanded  the  unjust 
judge  and  the  wicked  woman  to  be  tied 
together  in  a  sack  and  pitched  into  the 
river. 


TheFffih 

DomtTW 

Jails//// 


By  this  time  Mrs.  Fister  had  sufficiently 
recovered  from  her  fright  to  look  out  of 
the  window  again.  She  recognized  her 
husband,  and  let  him  in. 


1 


the  third 
mino falls!!!!!! 


As  he  completed  his  tale,  the  supposed 
burglar,  followed  by  Tompkins,  ran  across 
the  Chief  of  Detectives  himself,  who  knew 
the  prisoner  as  an  honest  man  and  released 
him. 

Second  Domino 
Vs/////// 


The  policeman  had  become  so  interested 
in  his  own  narrative  that  he  was  put  off 
his  guard,  when  suddenly  the  thief  bolted 
with  his  ham  into  a  dark  passageway  and 
escaped.  He  eluded  the  bullets  fired  after 
him,  and  was  never  discovered. 


The  First 
Domino 


My  uncle  George  slapped  his  knee  and 
exclaimed  that  that  recalled  the  counter- 
sign— "  Let  him  in."  The  sentry  laughed, 
and  allowed  him  to  go  on  to  his  tent. 


Well,"  said  the  court,  "  I  shall  have 


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THE  ROW  OF  DOMINOES. 


moment's 


533 

cause, 
Ltion 
that 
ight- 
the 
hon- 
*  run 
back 
quit, 
end 
11  are 
it  if 
i  are 
on 
snse, 
shall 
exe- 
fur- 
;n  if 
:arry 
n  of 
far 
orig- 
n." 
your 


to  fine  you  one  hundred  dollars  and  costs, 
sir,  for  taking  up  the  valuable  time  of  this 
court  with  this  rigmarole." 

The  old  man  bowed  his  head  and  wept. 

"  But,"  continued    the   judge,   after   a 


honor,"  returned  the  venerable  Mr. 
Scheherazade,  drying  his  eyes  upon  his 
sleeve,  "  thanks  !  Hereafter  I  shall  steal 
no  more;  but  shall  confine  myself  to  the 
more  honorable  occupation  of  lying." 


DRAW 

It    Y 

O    R     ft    O 


L.      O     W     *    1»    1. 


Digitized  by 


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)il  to 
aorn- 


LIGHT  the  giim  — who's  got  a 
match?" 

41  Vere  is  mine  kist  ?  I  get  some  stick- 
plaster." 

"Keep  yer  dukes  off  thot  bag;  it's 
mine." 

"  It  vas  in  my  bunk." 

"Yer  bunk,  ye  bloody  Dutchman! 
Take  an  upper  bunk — where  ye  belong." 

"Who's  got  a  match?  I'm  bleedin' 
like  a  stuck  pig." 

"  That  mate  or  me  won't  finish  the  voy- 
age 'f  he  kicks  me  again." 

"No  oil  in  the  blasted  lamp!  Go  aft 
to  the  steward,  one  o'  ye,  an'  get  some 
oil." 

"Where's  that  ordinary  seaman?  Go 
get  some  oil;  find  him  in  the  galley." 

"  There  goes  royal  sheets — we'll  have  a 
reefin'  match  'fore  mornin\" 

"  An*  I'd  be  a  lot  o'  use  on  a  yard  to- 
night; I  can't  take  a  good  breath." 

"  I  dink  he  stove  in  your  rips,  Yim,  ven 
he  yump  off  de  fo'castle  on  you.  He  loose 
mine  teet." 

"He  won't  do  it  often.  Wonder  if 
sheath-knives'll  go  in  this  ship  ?  " 

"  In  my  last  ship  day  dake  'em  avay  by 
der  dock." 

"  Dry  up — you  an'  yer  last  ship;  it's  the 
likes  o'  you  that  ruins  American  ships. 
What  d'ye  let  go  the  t'gallant- sheet 
for?" 

"  I  dink  it  vas  der  bowline.  It  vas 
der  bowline-pin  on." 

"Where's  that  boy?  Did  he  go  for 
some  oil  ? " 

"  Here  he  is.     Got  some  oil  ?  " 

"Steward   says   to   light    up    a    slush- 


dead 

inan  an    scuu  nun  ait. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  Get  an  iron  slush-bucket 
out  o'  the  bosun's  locker,  an'  ask  Chips 
for  some  oakum — never  mind,  here's  a 
bunch.  Where's  that  feller  ?  Can  he 
move  yet  ? " 

"  Here  he  is.  Hey,  matey,  heave  out. 
Gentleman  aft  on  the  poop  wants  to  shake 
hands.     Out  o'  that  wi'  you!  " 

"That'll  do,  that'll  do.  Am  I  the 
corpse  that  is  wanted  ?  " 

"Turn  out!" 

"  I've  listened  to  the  conversation,  but 
can  understand  nothing  of  it  beyond  the 
profanity.  Can  any  one  inform  me  in  the 
darkness  where  I  am  ?      Am  I  at  sea  ?  " 

"  You  are — at  sea,  one  day  out,  in  the 
hottest,  bloodiest  packet  that  floats.  The 
mate  wants  you.  Get  out,  or  he'll  be 
here.  Come  on,  now;  we've  had  trouble 
enough  this  day." 

The  flare  of  burning  oakum  in  a  bucket 
of  grease  illumined  the  forecastle  and  the 
disfigured  faces  of  seven  men  who  were 
clustered  near  a  lower  bunk.  From  this 
bunk  scrambled  a  sad  wreck.  A  well- 
built  young  man,  it  was,  with  a  shock  of 
long,  thick  hair  overhanging  a  clean-cut 
face,  which  the  flickering  light  showed  to 
be  as  bronzed  by  sun  and  wind  as  those  of 
the  sailors  about  him;  but  in  this  face 
were  weary,  bloodshot  eyes,  and  tell-tale 
lines  that  should  not  have  been  there;  a 
quarter-inch  stubble  of  beard  and  mus- 
tache covered  the  lower  part,  and  it  was 
further  embellished  by  the  grime  of  the 
gutter.  The  raggedest  rags  that  could 
carry  the  name  of  shirt,  trousers,  or  coat 
clothed  the  body;  sockless  feet  showed 
through  holes  in  the  shoes;  and  from  the 
shoulders,  under  the  coat,  hung  by  a  piece 

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MORGAN  ROBERTSON. 


535 


of  cord  an  empty  tomato-can  with  brilliant 
label. 

"Tramp,  be  the  powers,"  said  one. 
11  Isn't  thot  the  name  o'  the  bird,  Jim  ?  " 

"Right  you  are,  Dennis,"  said  the 
one  addressed — a  tall,  active  American  : 
he  who  had  been  called  "Yim"  by  the 
sympathizing  Swede  with  the  "loosed" 
teeth. 

"Yes,"  said  the  wreck,  "tramp,  that's 
my  latest  rdle.  How'd  I  get  here  ?  I 
was  in  a  saloon,  drinking,  but  I  don't  re- 
member any  more.  I  might  have  been 
drugged.     My  head  feels  light." 

"  It'll  be  heavier  with  a  few  bumps  on 
it,"  said  Dennis.  "  Ye've  been  shang- 
haied 'long  with  three  or  four  more  of  us. 
Gwan  aft  an'  git  bumped;  we've  had  our 
share." 

"What  craft  is  this?" 

"Ship  'Indiana'  o'  New  York.  Ye'll 
know  her  better  'fore  ye  see  the  next  pint 
o'  beer." 

"'Indiana'?"  repeated  the  wreck. 
"  And  do  you  happen  to  know,  any  of  you, 
who  owns  her?" 

"  Western  Packet  Line,"  said  Jim;  "J.  L. 
Greenheart's  the  owner.  Get  out  o'  here; 
the  mate  wants  to  see  you." 

"Thank  you;  but  I  don't  particularly 
care  to  see  the  mate.  The  captain  will 
answer  very  well  for  me.  Allow  me  to 
introduce  myself — J.  L.  Greenheart,  owner 
of  this  ship  and  employer  of  every  man 
on  board." 

Stricken  as  were  those  men  with  sore 
spots  and  aching  bones,  they  burst  into 
uproarious  laughter  at  this  flippant  decla- 
ration, during  which  the  ragged  one  moved 
toward  the  door  and  passed  out. 

"  Lord  help  him,"  said  Jim,  "  if  he  goes 
aft  with  that  bluff!  The  mates  are  horses, 
but  the  skipper's  a  whole  team." 

Ten  minutes  later  the  ragged  one  re- 
turned— feet  first  and  unconscious — in  the 
arms  of  two  of  the  watch  on  deck,  who 
bundled  him  into  the  bunk  he  had  lately 
quitted  and  said  to  the  inquiring  men: 

"  We  don't  know  what  happened.  They 
had  a  lively  muss  on  the  poop,  an'  the 
skipper  an'  mates  must  ha'  jumped  on 
,him;  then  they  called  us  aft  to  get  him." 

The  two  passed  out,  and  the  seven  men, 
with  no  time  for  sympathy  or  nursing, 
chose,  with  much  bickering,  the  bunks 
they  were  to  occupy,  for  the  passage  at 
least,  patched  up  their  hurts  with  what  ap- 
pliances they  possessed,  and  turned  in. 
But  they  had  no  sooner  stretched  out  than 
the  rasping  voice  of  the  second  mate  was 
heard  at  the  door. 


"  Heye,  in  there,"  he  called.  "  Who's 
that  dock  rat  ye^ve  got  with  you  ? " 

"Don't  know*  Mr.  Barker,"  answered 
Jim  from  his  bunk.  "  He  didn't  sign  when 
we  did — shanghaied  in  place  of  a  good 
man,  likely— but  says  he's  the  owner." 

"  Did  he  know  the  owner's  name  with- 
out being  told  ?  " 

"No,  sir — nor  the  name  of  the  ship; 
we  told  him." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"In  the  forrard  lower  bunk,  sir — this 
side." 

The  second  officer  stepped  in — the  still- 
burning  slush-bucket  showing  him  to  be 
a  red- whiskered,  red -eyed  giant  —  and 
scanned  closely  the  grimy  features  of  this 
latest  pupil  in  nautical  etiquette.  As 
though  there  was  hypnotic  power  in  the 
red  eyes,  the  injured  man  opened  his  own 
and  returned  the  stare,  at  the  same  time 
feeling  with  his  fingers  a  discolored  swell- 
ing on  his  forehead  that  bore  plainly  the 
stamp  of  a  boot-heel. 

"An  all-round  hobo;  get  him  out  at 
eight  bells,  if  he  can  move,"  said  the 
officer  as  he  left  the  forecastle. 

At  four  bells  the  helmsman  was  relieved, 
and  reported  to  his  mates  in  the  watch  on 
deck  as  follows: 

"  He  marches  up  the  poop  steps  an'  tells 
the  mate  suthin'  pretty  sharp,  an'  then, 
'fore  the  mate  could  stop  him,  he  was  down 
below  routin'  out  the  skipper.  They  had  a 
run-in  down  there — I  heard  'em  plain — he 
was  orderin'  the  skipper  to  put  back  to 
New  York  an'  land  him,  an'  the  skipper 
got  a  black  eye  out  of  it.  Then  the  sec- 
ond mate  turns  out,  an'  the  first  mate  goes 
down,  an'  between  'em  all  three  they  boosts 
him  up  the  co'panionway  an*  kicks  him 
round  the  poop  till  he  can't  wiggle." 

And  when  the  lookout  came  down  and 
told  of  his  appearing  on  the  forecastle 
deck  shortly  after  the  second  mate's  visit 
and  sitting  for  an  hour  on  the  port  anchor, 
muttering  to  himself  and  answering  no 
questions,  the  watch  on  deck  unanimously 
agreed  that  he  was  demented.  At  eight 
bells  he  was  in  his  bunk,  and  responded 
to  the  vigorous  shaking  he  received  by 
planting  his  feet  in  the  stomach  of  Dennis, 
the  shaker,  and  sending  him  gasping  into 
the  opposite  bunk. 

"  Howly  Mother,"  groaned  the  sailor, 
when  he  could  breathe.  "  Say,  you  scrap- 
in's  o'  Newgate,  try  yer  heels  on  sam  one 
ilse — the  second  mate,  f'r  inshtance.  Me 
cuticle  won't  hold  any  more  shpots." 

Dennis  had  been  disciplined  the  day 
before,  mainly  while  prostrate. 

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53^ 


THE  DAY  OF   THE  DOG. 


"  Kicking  seems  to  be  the  vogue  here," 
said  the  man  as  he  rolled  out,  "and  I've 
been  a  Princeton  half-b*ack,  so  I'm  in  it. 
I've  been  kicked  out  of  the  cabin  and  off 
the  quarter-deck  of  my  own  ship — pounded 
into  insensibility  with  boot*heels.  Why  is 
this?" 

"Now  look-a  here,"  said  a  sturdy, 
thoughtful-eyed  Englishman — he  who  had 
vociferated  for  oil  when  the  watch  went 
below — "take  my  advice:  turn  to  an'  be 
civil,  an*  do  as  yer  told.  You  can't  run 
the  after-end  of  her — ye've  tried  it;  you 
can't  run  the  fo'castle — there's  too  many 
against  you.  Stow  that  guff  'bout  ownin' 
this  ship  or  ye'll  be  killed.  There  ain't  a 
Dutchman  aboard  but  what's  a  better  man 
than  you,  and  every  one  of  us  has  been 
hammered  an*  kicked  till  we  didn't  know 
our  names.  'Cause  why  ?  'Cause  it's  the 
rule  in  yer  blasted  Yankee  ships  to  break 
in  the  crew  with  handspikes.  You've 
caught  it  harder,  'cause  ye  didn't  know 
better  than  to  go  aft  lookin'  for  trouble. 
The  sooner  ye  find  yer  place  an'  larn  yer 
work,  the  better  for  you." 

"Thank  you  for  the  advice;  I'll  take 
it  if  I  have  to,  but  it's  against  my  princi- 
ples to  work — especially  under  compulsion. 
My  head  aches,  and  I'm  pretty  hungry, 
otherwise  I " 

"  Turn  out!  "  roared  a  voice  at  the  door, 
the  command  being  accompanied  by  choice 
epithet  and  profanity.     "  Bear  a  hand." 

"  Who  is  that  ?  "  asked  the  man  of  prin- 
ciples.    "  I've  heard  that  voice." 

"Second  mate,"  whispered  the  other; 
"don't  go  first,"  he  added,  mercifully, 
"nor  last." 

The  first  man  to  leave  the  forecastle 
was  Lars,  the  Swede,  who  received  a  blow 
in  the  face  that  sent  him  reeling  against 
the  fife-rail.  Then  came  Dennis;  then  Tom, 
the  Englishman;  followed  by  Ned,  a  burly 
German;  Fred,  the  ordinary  seaman;  and 
David,  a  loose-jointed  Highlander,  who  the 
day  before  had  lost  all  his  front  teeth  by 
the  swinging  blow  of  a  heaver  and  had 
since,  for  obvious  reasons,  added  no  Scotch 
dialect  to  the  forecastle  discourse.  All 
these  escaped  that  big  fist,  the  second  blow, 
according  to  packet-ship  ethics,  being  re- 
served for  the  last  man  out;  and  the  last 
man  out  now  was  the  man  of  rags. 

But  Mr.  Barker  had  not  time  to  deliver 
that  blow.  A  dirty  fist  preceded  its  owner 
through  the  door,  striking  themate  between 
the  eyes,  and  before  the  whirling  points  of 
light  had  ceased  to  dazzle  his  inner  vision 
a  second  blow,  crashing  under  his  ear,  sent 
him,  big  man  that  he  was,  nearly  as  far  as 


Lars  had  gone.  Recovering  himself,  with 
a  furious  oath  he  seized  a  belaying-pin 
from  the  fife-rail  and  sprang  at  his  assail- 
ant. One  futile  blow  only  he  dealt,  and 
the  pin  was  wrenched  from  his  grasp  and 
dropped  to  the  deck;  then  with  an  iron- 
hard  elbow  pressing  his  throat,  and  a  sin- 
ewy left  arm  bearing,  fulcrum-like,  on  bis 
backbone,  he  was  bent  over,  gasping, 
struggling,  and  vainly  striking,  lifted  from 
his  feet,  and  hurled  headlong  to  the  fore- 
hatch. 

"  You  are  one  of  the  three  with  whom  I 
dealt  in  the  cabin,"  said  a  voice  above  him 
in  the  darkness;  "now  face  me  alone, 
curse  you!     Get  up  here  and  fight  it  out." 

"  Mr.  Pratt,"  called  the  officer,  rising 
unsteadily.  "  Mr.  Pratt !  Come  forrard, 
sir." 

It  was  a  black  night,  with  a  promise  of 
dirty  weather  to  come  in  the  sky  astern, 
and  the  ship  was  charging  along  under 
topgallant-sails  before  a  half-gale  of  wind, 
against  which  no  sounds  from  near  the 
bow  could  easily  reach  the  quarter-deck. 
Only  at  rare  intervals  did  the  full  moon 
show  through  the  dense  storm  clouds  rac- 
ing overhead,  and  Mr.  Barker  was  alone 
on  a  dark  deck,  surrounded  by  fifteen 
men  not  one  of  whom  would  have  prayed 
for  him.  Dazed  as  he  was,  he  knew  his 
danger — knew  that  all  these  men  needed 
was  a  leader,  a  master-spirit,  to  arouse 
them  from  the  submissive  apathy  of  the 
foremast  hand  to  bloody  retaliation.  And 
a  leader  seemed  to  have  appeared.  Lars 
complained  bitterly  as  he  held  his  bleeding 
face.  Angry  mutterings  came  from  the 
others;  some  drew  sheath-knives,  some 
abstracted  belaying-pins  from  the  rail;  and 
a  few,  Tom  among  them,  supplied  them- 
selves with  capstan-bars  from  the  rack  at 
the  break  of  the  topgallant  forecastle. 

"  Mr.  Pratt,"  bawled  the  demoralized 
officer  as  he  backed  away  from  his  chal- 
lenger; then,  as  though  suddenly  remem- 
bering, he  drew  a  revolver  from  his  pocket 
and  pointed  it  at  the  man  confronting 
him.  At  that  moment,  a  lithe,  springy 
man  bounded  into  the  group  from  around 
the  corner  of  the  forward  house.  Flour- 
ishing an  iron  belaying-pin,  he  yelled: 
"  What's  the  matter  here  ?  Lay  aft,  you* 
hounds — lay  aft!  Aft  with  you  all.  Mr. 
Barker,  you  here  ? " 

"  Here  you  are,  sir — this  feller  here." 

A  momentary  appearance  of  the  moon 
gave  the  newcomer  light  to  see  the  leveled 
pistol  and  the  man  covered  by  it,  who 
seemed  to  be  hesitating  and  about  to  look 
around.      One  bound   carried   him   close. 


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MORGAN  ROBERTSON. 


537 


Down  crashed  the  iron  pin  on  the  faltering 
man's  head,  and  without  a  word  or  a  groan 
he  fell,  limp  and  lifeless,  to  the  edge  of  the 
hatch,  and  rolled  to  the  deck.  A  menacing 
circle    closed    around    the    two    officers. 


•AM    1    THK    CORPSE   THAT  S    WANTED 


"Shame,  shame!"  cried  the  men.  "He 
warn't  in  his  right  mind  ;  he  didn't  know 
what  he  was  doin'." 

"  It's  bloody  murder,  that's  what  it  is," 
shouted  Tom  in  a  fury  of  horror  and 
rage.  "  Blast  you,  kill  a  man  from  behind 
who  only  wanted  a  fair  fight  !  "  He 
whirled  his  capstan-bar  aloft,  but  held  it 
poised,  for  he  was  looking  into  the  barrel 
of  the  chief  officer's  pistol. 


"  Drop  that  handspike — drop  it  quick!  " 
said  Mr.  Pratt.  "  Quick,  or  I'll  shoot  you 
dead." 

Tom  allowed  the  six-foot  club  to  slip 
slowly  through  his  fingers  until  it  struck 
the  deck  ;  then  he 
let  it  fall,  saying 
sulkily:  "  Needs 
must  when  the  devil 
drives;  but  it's  only 
a  matter  of  time,  a 
matter  of  time.  I'll 
have  you  hung." 

"  Put  up  your 
knives,  every  one  of 
you.  Put  those 
belaying-pins  back 
in  their  places, 
quick,"  snapped 
the  officer.  The  two 
pistols  wandered 
around  the  group, 
and  the  men  fell 
back  and  obeyed 
him. 

"  Now  lay  aft, 
every  man  jack  of 
you." 

The  incipient  mu- 
tiny was  quelled. 
They  were  driven 
aft  before  the  pis- 
tols to  the  main 
hatch,  where  they 
surrendered  their 
sheath-knives  and 
received  a  clean-cut 
lecture  on  their 
moral  defects  from 
the  first  officer;  then 
Tom  was  invited  to 
insert  his  hands  into 
a  pair  of  shackles. 
He  accepted  the  in- 
vitation (the  pistols 
were  still  in  evi- 
dence) ;  and  while 
he  was  being  fast- 
ened to  a  stanchion 
>"  in  the  half-deck  the 

men  at  the  wheel 
and  lookout  were  relieved  and  the  port 
watch  dismissed. 

Tom,  with  forecastle  philosophy,  con- 
gratulated himself  on  his  present  immu- 
nity from  standing  watch  and  stretched 
out  for  a  nap,  flat  on  his  broad  back,  with 
aims  elevated  and  hanging  by  the  hand- 
cuffs above  his  head.  He  had  nearly 
dozed  off  when  the  booby -hatch  was 
opened  and  another  prisoner  was  bundled 

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53* 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  DOG. 


down  the  steps,  moaning  piteously;  and, 
as  he  was  being  ironed  to  the  next  stan- 
chion, Tom  recognized,  by  the  light  of  the 
mate's  lantern,  the  ragged  violator  of 
precedent. 

"  Blow  me,  matey,  but  yer  hard  to  kill," 
he  said,  when  the  mate  had  gone.  "I 
thought  you  were  done  for.  Know  me  ? 
I'm  the  feller  that  advised  ye  to  go  slow." 

"  Oh,  yes.  What  happened  ?  Why  are 
we  here  ?     What  place  is  this  ?  " 

"  'Tween-decks.  We  were  unkind  to 
the  mates — blast  'em — that's  why  we're 
here.  I'd  ha'  knocked  the  first  mate  stiffer 
than  he  knocked  you  'f  it  hadn't  been  for 
his  gun." 

"  Was  it  the  first  mate  who  struck  me  ? 
Oh,  there'll  be  an  accounting — my  head! 
Oh,  my  head!  "  groaned  the  man.  "  I  be- 
lieve I'm  injured  for  life." 

"  Ye  were  too  reckless,  old  man  ;  ye 
oughter  ha*  watched  for  the  mate.  He's 
a  holy  terror;  he  half-killed  all  hands 
yesterday;  that's  why  we  couldn't  stand 
by  ye  better.  He  jumped  off  the  fo'castle 
on  to  Dennis,  an'  the  two  o'  them  kicked 
him  all  round  the  fore-hatch.  David  was 
knocked  endwise  with  a  heaver  for  goin' 
to  windward  o'  the  skipper,  an'  his  teeth 
are  all  gone.  Lars  got  soaked  at  the 
wheel — that's  against  the  law,  too;  and  ye 
see  him  get  it  again  to-night.  Dutch  Ned 
let  go  the  to'gallant  sheet,  an'  the  second 
mate  sent  him  twenty  feet.  I  got  it  in  the 
nose  just  'fore  goin1  below  at  eight  bells,  for 
no  reason  on  earth  but  'cause  I  was  the 
only  man  left  who  hadn't  got  soaked — 
besides  Fred,  the  boy;  he  got  clear.  An' 
the  other  watch  got  it  just  as  bad.  We're 
all  used  up  an'  no  good  at  all;  but  you 
got  it  hardest,  'cause  ye  earned  it.  Blow 
me,  but  ye  done  the  second  mate  up 
brown." 

"But  why  is  it  necessary,  and  why  do 
you  submit  to  it — all  you  men  at  the  mercy 
of  three?" 

"  Pistols,  matey,  the  pistols.  An'  Yan- 
kee mates  are  all  trained  buckoes — rather 
fight  than  eat.  When  the  fists  an'  boots 
an'  belayin'-pins  an'  handspikes  can't  do 
the  business  they  pull  their  guns — we  knew 
that.  An*  then,  too,  mutiny's  a  serious 
thing  when  yer  hauled  up  'fore  the  com- 
missioner: all  the  law's  mostly  against  the 
sailors." 

"  I  have  been  drugged,  kidnapped,  and 
twice  beaten  insensible;  there  is  law 
against  that." 

"  If  ye  can  get  it;  but  ye  can't." 

"I'll  try — I'll  try;  I've  read  a  little 
law." 


1 '  Yer  not  a  sailorman,  matey,  I  can  see ; 
what's  yer  trade?" 

"  I  have  none." 

"Never  worked?" 

"No." 

"  Jim  says  you  fellers  just  hoof  it  round 
the  country,  sleepin'  under  haystacks  sum- 
mer-times an'  goin'  to  jail  winters.  It's 
better  than  goin'  to  sea.  But  ye  talk 
like  a  man  that's  been  educated  once. 
What  brought  ye  down  to  this — whisky  ?  " 

"  Y-e-s,  and  knockout  drops.  My  head 
is  getting  worse.  I  can't  talk.  How  can 
I  lie  down?  What  fiends  they  are!  My 
head — my  head!  " 

Tom  advised  the  suffering  wretch  how 
to  dispose  himself,  and  again  considered 
the  question  of  sleep.  But  no  sleep  came 
to  him  that  night.  The  injured  man  began 
muttering  to  himself;  and  this  muttering, 
at  times  intelligible,  at  others  not,  often 
rising  to  a  shriek  of  pain,  lasted  until 
morning  and  kept  him  awake.  In  spite 
of  his  life  of  hard  knocks,  Tom  had  so  far 
learned  nothing  of  the  alternate  delirium 
and  lucidity  consequent  on  slight  brain 
concussion,  and  supposed  this  to  be  the 
raving  of  insanity.  Kind-hearted  as  he 
was,  the  ceaseless  jargon  grated  on  his 
nerves.  He  listened  to  it  and  the  sounds 
of  shortening  sail  overhead,  and  wished 
himself  on  deck,  in  the  wet  and  cold, 
away  from  this  suffering,  beyond  his  power 
to  understand  or  relieve.  At  daylight, 
nearly  at  the  shrieking  point  himself,  he 
welcomed  the  throwing  back  of  the  scuttle 
and  the  appearance  of  the  first  mate,  who, 
in  yellow  sou'-wester  and  long  oilskin 
coat,  descended  the  ladder  and  stepped  to 
the  side  of  his  victim.  Mr.  Pratt  was  a 
young  man,  well  put  together,  with  black 
hair  and  whiskers,  and  dull  gray  eyes  set 
in  a  putty-colored  face.-  It  was  a  face 
that  might  grin,  but  never  could  smile; 
yet  it  wore,  as  it  bent  over  the  moaning, 
tossing  bundle  of  rags  and  blood,  an  ex- 
pression of  mental  disquiet. 

"How  long's  he  been  like  this?"  he 
suddenly  demanded  of  Tom. 

"  Ever  since  he  come  down,  sir.  If  you 
please,  sir,  I'd  like  to  be  put  somewhere 
else  or  turn  to.  I  wasn't  myself  last 
night,  Mr.  Pratt.  I'll  be  crazy  as  he  is,  if 
I  stay  here  with  him." 

In  answer  to  this,  Tom  received  two  or 
three  kicks  in  the  ribs;  then  the  officer 
went  on  deck,  returning  in  a  few  moments 
with  the  captain  of  the  ship — a  man  who 
in  the  rdle  of  jolly  sea-dog  might  play  a 
part  well  borne  out  by  his  physique.  He 
was  the  very  opposite  in  appearance  to  his 

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MORGAN  ROBERTSON.  539 

chief   mate — short,    broad,    and   smooth-  "  so  you  nearly  kill  my  second  officer,  do 

faced,   with  an  upturn  to  the   corners  of  you?" 

his  mouth,  and  twinkling  blue  eyes,  which,  "  Not  this  fellow,  Captain  Millen,"  said 

in  spite  of   a  dark  circle   around  one  of  the  mate;  "  not  him,  the  other.    This  man 

them,  gave  his  countenance  a  deceptive  raised  a  handspike  over  me  and  threatened 

look  of  suppressed  merriment.  to  hang  me." 

"So,  ho,  my  man,"  he  said,   breezily,  "I  was  excited,   Cappen,"  said    Tom. 


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54o  THE  DAY  OF   THE  DOG. 

"  I  thought  Mr.  Pratt  had  killed  the  man,    mates  an   eye   that   in   ten   minutes   was 
which  he  didn't."  blacker  than  the  captain's. 

"Will  you  promise  to  turn  to  and  do        Captain  Millen  and  Mr.   Pratt. stooped 

your  work,  and  obey  orders  civilly,  if    I    over  and    examined   the   remaining   pris- 

let  you  out  ?  "  oner,     now     unconscious    and    breathing 

"  Yes,  sir."  heavily,  and  the  mate 

asked,  uneasily  : 
"  Think  I've  done  for 
him,  sir  ?  " 

"  Can't  tell  ;  he's 
all  blood  and  the  cut's 
hidden,  and  I  wouldn't 
touch  him  with  a  fish- 
pole.  I  never  shipped 
this  hoodlum;  the  run- 
ners kept  back  a  man 
and  sent  him." 

"The  Englishman 
says  he's  crazy — the 
men  forrard,  too  ; 
might  be,  or  his  yarn 
about  owning  the 
ship's  just  the  bluff  of 
a  tramp." 

"  Possibly  he'sdaft; 
but  he  didn't  know 
the  ship's  name  or  the 
owner's  name  till  the 
men  told  him,  so  Mr. 
Barker  says;  and 
when  I  told  him  in  the 
cabin  that  the  owner 
was  a  gray -headed 
man,  it  threw  him  out. 
Guess  it's  only  a  bluff. 
Have  you  logged 
him?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Wrote 
him  down  just  after  I 
ironed  him." 

"  I'll  put  him  in  the 
official   log  as  a   ma- 
niac; evidenceenough 
even  without  the  men's 
t  e  s  t  i  m  o  n  y — f  o  r  c  e  s 
bin  and  claims  to  own 
;  me  to  run  back  to  New 
;  unprovoked  assault  on 
ay  of  maniacal  strength, 
t,   if  he  dies  it'll   look 
articularly  you,  to  have 
^verity  is  necessary  and 
excusable  in   dealing  with    dangerous  lu- 
to  escape  so  easily.     As  he  passed  them,    natics.     But  we  don't  want  him  to  die — 
Captain  Millen's  sledge-like  fist  shot  out,    we're  too  short-handed." 
and  he  fell  in  a  heap.  "  Shall  I  have  the  steward  down  to  fix 

"On  deck  with    you,"    thundered    the    him  up,  sir  ? " 
captain,    whose   eyes   had    not   ceased  to        "  Yes,  and  tell  him  to  get  what  he  wants 
twinkle  during   the    performance.       Tom    from   the   medicine-chest;    and    better   be 
rose   again,  sneaked    up    the    ladder  and    more  careful,  Mr.    Pratt;  it  don't  pay  to 
passed  forward,  where  he  showed  his  ship-   get   the   law  after  you.      I    know  it  was 

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MORGAN  ROBERTSON. 


54* 


dark  and  Mr.  Barker  was  badly  scared; 
but,  just  the  same,  a  light  whack  will 
always  answer.  Never  strike  a  man  near 
the  temple,  especially  with  an  iron  belay- 
ing-pin  or  a  handspike;  and  when  you 
have  him  down,  kick  him  on  the  legs  or 
above  the  short  ribs.  It's  altogether  un- 
necessary to  disable  a  man,  and  unwise 
with  a  short  crew.  Be  more  careful,  Mr. 
Pratt.1  ' 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  pupil  humbly; 
"  but  they  had  their  knives  out,  and  I  had 
no  time  to  pick  spots;  I  just  let  go." 

They  left  the  half-deck,  and  the  stew- 
ard, busy  with  the  cabin  breakfast,  was 
ordered  to  desist  and  attend  to  the  wants 
of  the  prisoner,  which  repugnant  duty  he 
performed  perfunctorily,  yet  with  the  re- 
sult of  bringing  him  to  consciousness  and 
inducing  him  to  eat.  This,  his  first  meal 
since  he  had  come  aboard,  was  followed 
by  a  refreshing  sleep,  with  his  bandaged 
head  pillowed  on  a  coil  of  new  rope;  and 
when  he  wakened  in  the  afternoon  he  was 
able,  with  his  shackles  removed  to  his  an- 
kles, to  minister  to  his  own  hurts. 

His  condition  improved  steadily;  but 
a  week  passed  before  his  nerves  and  facul- 
ties were  sufficiently  under  control  to  war- 
rant him  in,  as  he  expressed  it,  "taking 
another  fall  out  o'  them."  He  sent  a 
request  for  an  interview  to  the  captain, 
who  granted  it. 

"Well,  what  d'ye  want?"  he  roared, 
before  he  was  half  way  down  the  ladder. 

"Want  to  talk  to  you,"  answered  the 
unconcfuered  wreck,  in  nearly  as  loud  a 
tone. 

"Y'  do,  hey?  Well,  talk  civil,  and  be 
quick  about  it." 

"  Exactly.  I  am  anxious  to  impress 
upon  your  mind,  as  quickly  as  your  mind 
will  receive  the  impression,  the  fact  that 
you  have  made  a  serious  mistake — that 
you  have  maltreated  and  confined  in  irons, 
on  board  one  of  his  own  ships,  John  L. 
Greenheart,  your  employer.  You  have 
not  met  him  before,  because  you  have 
only  dealt  with  James  L.  Greenheart,  his 
uncle  and  manager." 

"  Oh,  you've  struck  a  new  lay,  have  you 
— invented  a  nephew  to  carry  out  your 
bluff?  Well,  it  don't  go."  But  there 
was  a  look  of  intelligent  earnestness  in 
the  weary  eyes  of  the  claimant  that  induced 
Captain  Millen  to  continue  in  defense  of 
his  denial — a  needless  waste  of  words,  had 
he  stopped  to  think. 

"  I've  sailed  in  this  employ  twenty-five 
years,"  he  stormed;  "and  I  know,  if  I 
know  anything,  that  there   are  no  vaga- 


bonds in  the  Greenheart  family.  Why, 
you  infernal  jail-bird,  your  dirty  hide  is  as 
tanned  as  a  shell-back's  from  tramping 
the  highways." 

"  Just  back  from  a  yachting  cruise  in 
southern  waters,  Captain — I  haven't  yet 
learned  your  name." 

"  Rats!  And  when  did  you  shave  last  ? 
What  kind  of  clothes  do  ship-owners 
wear?  " 

"  I  was  slumming  disguised  as  a  tramp, 
when  I  was  drugged  and  kidnapped.  As 
for  being  unshaved,  I  was  in  the  middle 
of  a  champagne  spree — or  I  shouldn't  have 
gone  slumming  at  all — and  scissored  off 
my  beard  to  heighten  the  disguise." 

Captain  Millen  did  not  know  what 
"slumming"  meant,  and  did  not  care  to 
ask,  so  he  listened  no  further.  The  inter- 
view ended  with  a  hearty  round  of  pro- 
fane abuse  from  him,  and  the  aphorism, 
"  Every  dog  has  his  day,"  from  the  other. 

A  few  days  later  he  sent  a  second  re- 
quest to  the  quarter-deck  for  a  talk  with 
the  captain,  but  the  favor  was  not  granted. 
Fred,  the  messenger,  who  now  brought 
his  meals  from  the  forecastle,  repeated  the 
errand  on  the  following  day,  was  kicked 
off  the  quarter-deck,  and  refused  to  go 
again;  so  it  was  another  week  before  he 
was  able  to  communicate.  Then  Mr. 
Barker,  rummaging  the  half-deck  in  the 
line  of  duty,  listened  to  a  proposition  that 
he  be  allowed  to  work  with  the  crew  on 
terms  of  abdication  and  submission.  This 
brought  the  captain. 

"  My  health  is  suffering  from  this  con- 
finement," he  said.  "I  cannot  eat  the 
swill  you  feed  to  me  without  the  appetite 
coming  from  exercise  in  the  open  air.  I 
am  willing  to  work  as  a  common  sailor; 
and,  as  you  will  not  recognize  the  name  I 
give  you,  I  will  answer  to  any." 

"  Will  you  shut  up  about  that  owner 
racket  ?" 

"I  will." 

"  And  do  as  you're  told,  and  try  to  learn 
your  work,  so  that  you  can  be  worth  your 
grub?" 

"Yes." 

"'Yes?'  Say  'Yes,  sir,'  when  you 
speak  to  me  or  the  officers.  Learn  that 
first." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  All  right;  and  mind  you,  any  monkey 
work'll  get  you  into  more  trouble.  You're 
on  the  articles  as  Hans  Johanne  Von 
Dagerman,  Dutchman,  able  seaman,  four- 
teen dollars  a  month,  and  a  month's  ad- 
vance— remember  that  when  you're  paid 
off.     And  you're  down  in  my  official  log 


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542 


THE  DAY  OF   THE  DOG. 


as  a  dangerous  lunatic.  If  you  raise  any 
row  aboard  my  ship,  you'll  be  shot,  and 
your  character  and  record  will  excuse  it. 
Understand  ?" 

"  I  do.  I  accept  the  warning,  the  name, 
the  nationality,  and  the  conditions— even 
the  lunacy.  Only,  Captain,  as  I  am  offi- 
cially insane,  I  cannot  be  punished  if  I 
kill  you  all  three — remember  that."  The 
weary  eyes  were  sparkling. 

"  Oh,  that's  your  game,  is  it  ?  Want 
to  get  out  to  kill  somebody  ?  Down  you 
go  in  my  log  as  threatening  my  life  and 
the  lives  of  my  officers,  and  here  you  stay 
in  double-irons  on  bread  and  water." 

So  he  was  logged  again,  and  another  pair 
of  manacles  fastened  to  his  wrists,  with  a 
foot  of  chain  connecting  the  center  links 


*  HERB   YOU   STAY   IN    DOUBLE-IRONS  UN    BREAD    AND    WATER." 


to  the  stanchion.     This  gave  him  scope  to 
lift  from  the  deck  to  his  mouth  the  one 
biscuit  allowed  him  each  day,  and  to  drink 
from  his  tomato-can,  which  had  been  saved 
for  him.    But  it  was  not  the  diet  that  broke 
him  down.     The  water  was  good;  and  the 
biscuit,  though  not  the  soft,  fluffy  morsel 
eaten  at  tea-tables  on  shore,  was  the  clean- 
est and  sweetest  food  on  the  forecastle 
menu,  and  one  a  day  was  as  much  as  he 
could  masticate  during  his  waking  hours. 
It  was  the  confinement  and  double-irons. 
After  three  weeks,  pale  and  emaciated,  he 
sent  up  another  plea  for  liberty,  in  which 
he  relinquished  the  privileges  of  the  insane, 
and  to  Captain  Millen,  when  he  appeared, 
he  promised  a  line  of  good  behavior  while 
on  board  which  debarred  him  the  right  to 
return  a  blow.     He  made 
this  promise  on  his  honor, 
which  he  said  was  all  they 
had  left  him.    As  the  ship 
was     short-handed,    the 
captain   accepted  the 
promise  and  his  services. 
Then,  with   his  tomato- 
can    in    his   hand,    able- 
seaman    Hans    Johanne 
Von    Dagerman,    as    we 
must  now  know  him,  went 
forward,  a  member  of  the 
starboard  watch.    At  the 
end  of  the  first  day  he 
had  proved  his  incapacity 
and  was  disrated  to  ordi- 
nary seaman,   at   eleven 
dollars   a   month.'     This 
did  not  trouble  him,  un- 
til, having  heard  of  the 
"  slop-chest  " — the  store 
of    clothing   which   cap- 
tains  lay   in    to   sell   to 
sailors  at  sea — he  learned 
that   he  could   not  pur- 
chase until  out  of   debt 
to   the    ship.      His    pay 
had  stopped  when  he  be- 
came a  prisoner,  and  the 
time  required  to  work  off 
the  fourteen  dollars  ad- 
vance   charged    against 
him    brought    the    ship, 
bound  to  Shanghai,  well 
into   the  chilly   weather 
to  the  south  of  Cape  of 
Good    Hope   before    he 
could     draw     from     the 
slop-chest;    and  then  he 
bought,  not  clothing,  but 

salt-water    soap,    with 

which  he  washed  his  own 


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MORGAN  ROBERTSON.  543 

and  the  scant  supply  of  rags  contrib-  his  weary  eyes,  that  he  appreciated  and  re- 
uted  by  his  pitying  shipmates,  and  took  membered.  The  big  second  mate,  how- 
a  chilly  bath  over  the  bows  with  a  draw-  ever,  though  prolific  in  profanely  worded 
bucket.  He  was  certainly  insane,  and  expressions  of  disapproval,  avoided  per- 
the  men  not  only  pitied  him  but  feared  sonal  contact  with  him,  candidly  admit- 
him,  forbearing  all  the  petty  persecutions  ting  to  Mr.  Pratt  that  once  was  enough 
which  able  seamen  may  inflict  on  a  green  for  one  lifetime  and  that  he  took  no  stock 
hand  in  the  watch  below.  He  occasionally  in  the  promises  of  crazy  men. 
borrowed  his  friend  Tom's  scissors  and  At  Shanghai,  Hans  Johanne  Von  Dager- 
looking-glass  and  kept  his  growing  beard  man  applied  for  liberty  to  go  ashore,  which 
trimmed  to  a  point  —  an  outlandish,  iub-  was  denied  him;  for  he  had  drawn  his 
berly  style,  inspired,  no  doubt,  by  his  wages  up  to  date  in  slop-clothing,  and  with 
lunacy.  He  manufactured,  from  the  inner  nothing  to  hold  him  to  the  ship,  he  might 
bristles  of  a  condemned  paint-brush,  a  desert.  As  a  consequence,  he  slipped 
fairly  serviceable  tooth-brush,  with  which,  overboard  in  the  night,  swam  ashore,  hid 
and  a  piece  of  bath-brick  coaxed  from  until  morning,  and  entered  the  office  of 
the  cook,  he  scoured  th*»  Am"r,'Mn  mnQni 

his  teeth — remarkably 
white  and  well-set — 
after-each  meal.  Every 
morning,  no  matter 
what  the  weather,  he 
took  his  douche-bath, 
using  up  valuable  time 
in  his  watch  below  for 
the  performance. 
When  he  had  earned 
more  money,  he 
bought  clothing,  and 
paid  his  debts  to  his 
mates  in  kind — new 
shirts,  etc.,  for  old  ; 
and  then  only  did  he 
buy  for  himself.  He 
refused  to  talk  of  his 
past,  but  frankly  con- 
fessed to  the  others 
that  he  was  crazy.  Ail 
these  idiosyncrasies 
counted  against  him, 
and  drifting  aft, 
through  the  medium 
of  the  cook  and  stew- 
ard, were  entered  in 
the  official  log  as  ad- 
ditional evidence  of 
his  mental  derange- 
ment. 

He  seemed  to  know 
something  of  sailors' 
work  when  he  began — 
that  is,  he  knew  star- 
board from  port,  and 
the  names  of  the  sails, 
but  not  the  ropes;  and 
he  could  steer  well  enou 
in  fine  weather.  He  lean 
by  Tom  and  Jim;  and, 
ing  mistakes  that  brouj 
sometimes  knockdowns, 
only  showing,  by  the  s< 


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544 


THE  DAY  OF   THE  DOG. 


mands  that  he  depose  Captain  Millen  from 
command,  that  he  ordered  him  back  to  the 
ship  in  irons.  He  remained  in  the  half- 
deck  until  the  ship  sailed  for  New  York, 
and  was  then  glad  to  be  released  on  a 
second  promise  of  good  conduct. 

On  the  homeward  passage  he  kept  his 
place  and  his  promise,  becoming,  under  the 
influence  of  his  watch-mates,  who  began  to 
like  him,  a  fairly  proficient  sailorman — 
quick  and  intelligent  in  judgment,  active 
and  strong  in  the  execution  of  orders. 
The  ozone  of  the  sea,  with  his  hygienic 
personal  habits,  religiously  clung  to,  had 
cleared  the  bloodshot  eye,  smoothed  the 
premature  lines  in  his  sunburned  face,  and 
transformed  him  from  the  dilapidated 
wreck  of  humanity  first  introduced,  to  as 
handsome  and  manly-looking  a  sailor  as 
ever  pulled  a  rope. 

The  ship  reached  New  York,  and  Cap- 
tain Millen,  according  to  instructions 
brought  to  him  at  Quarantine,  anchored 
the  "  Indiana"  off  Staten  Island  pending 
the  vacating  of  her  dock  by  another  ship. 
As  this  would  not  be  for  a  fortnight,  the 
men  were  sent  ashore  on  a  tug,  and  three 
days  later  paid  off  at  the  shipping-office. 
Then  they  disappeared  from  the  ken  and 
concern  of  Captain  Millen  and  his  offi- 
cers, who,  with  the  steward,  remained  by 
the  ship,  killing  time  as  best  they  could. 
Smoking  lazily  under  the  quarter-deck 
awning  one  day,  they  became  interested  in 
a  large  steam  yacht  approaching  on  the 
starboard  quarter.  A  dainty  piece  of  cabi- 
net-work she  was,  glistening  with  varnish 
paint  and  polished  brass,  with  the  Ameri- 
can yacht  ensign  at  the  stern  and  the 
burgee  of  the  New  York  Yacht  Club  at 
the  fore-truck,  yet  showing,  by  her  square 
stern  and  gaffs  peaked  from  the  deck,  her 
probable  English  origin.  Blue-shirted 
sailors  dotted  her  white  deck,  two  uni- 
formed officers  conned  her  from  the  bridge; 
and  aft,  on  the  fan-tail,  seated  in  a  wicker- 
woVk  deck-chair,  was  a  white-haired  old 
gentleman.  Captain  Millen,  viewing  her 
through  his  glasses,  suddenly  exclaimed: 

"Why,  it's  old  Greenheart!  Getting 
gay  in  his  old  age,  buying  steam  yachts. 
Hope  he  won't  dock  my  pay  to  make  up 
for  this." 

As  the  beautiful  craft  drew  up  alongside 
and  stopped,  the  old  gentleman  arose  and 
took  off  his  cap,  which  salute  they  an- 
swered; then  a  gig  was  lowered,  manned 
by  a  neatly-dressed  crew,  and  steered  to 
the  ship's  gangway  by  a  spruce  young 
coxswain,  who  mounted  the  side  and  ap- 
proached them.    Touching  his  cap,  he  said : 


"  Mr.  Greenheart  would  like  to  see  Cap- 
tain Millen,  Mr.  Pratt,  and  Mr.  Barker  on 
board  the  yacht." 

"  Well,  well — certainly — yes,  of  course," 
said  the  captain.  **  Pratt,  get  a  collai 
on;  you,  too,  Barker.  'Tisn't  every  day 
we  get  into  good  society.  Hurry  up. 
Ready  in  a  minute,  young  fellow."  The 
coxswain  descended  to  the  gig,  and  the 
two  mates  to  their  rooms,  where  they  made 
such  hurried  toilet  as  the  urgency  would 
admit  of.  As  they  came  up,  the  captain 
said,  impressively: 

"  Don't  let  on,  now,  that  you  expect 
anything:  the  old  man's  finicky;  but  I 
think  this  means  promotion  for  all  of  us. 
The  new  ship  was  launched  last  week,  and 
I'm  more  than  likely  to  get  her.  That'll 
leave  a  vacancy  here,  and  I've  spoken  well 
of  both  of  you.     But  don't  let  on." 

They  entered  the  gig  and  were  pulled  to 
the  yacht,  where,  on  climbing  the  gang- 
way steps,  they  found  the  side  manned  for 
them.  Two  lines  of  men,  marshaled  by  a 
keen-eyed  second  mate,  who  stared  curi- 
ously at  the  visitors,  stretched  across  the 
deck,  forming  a  lane  through  which  they 
must  pass.  And  these  two  lines  were 
composed  of  the  port  and  starboard 
watches  of  the  "  Indiana,"  spick  and  span, 
in  clean  blue  uniform,  each  man  gazing 
stonily  over  the  shoulder  of  his  vis-A-vis, 
and  only  one  giving  any  sign  of  recogni- 
tion. David,  who  had  not  smiled  during 
the  voyage,  now  grinned  cheerfully  around 
a  set  of  false  teeth.  Agape  with  astonish- 
ment, the  three  visitors  passed  on  until 
they  were  met  by  the  smiling  old  gentle- 
man, who  shook  hands  with  them  and 
said: 

"A  little  out  of  the  ordinary,  Captain 
— no,  not  my  yacht — my  nephew's.  He 
has  just  returned  from  abroad,  and  thinks 
he  was  in  the  China  seas  about  the  time 
you  were  there.  He  wants  to  meet  you 
and  compare  notes,  and  suggested  a  spin 
down  the  Bay.  John,"  he  called  down 
the  cabin  stairs,  "  will  you  come  up  ?  Cap- 
tain Millen  is  here.  Allow  me  to  introduce 
you.  Gentlemen,  my  nephew,  Mr.  Green- 
heart. John,  this  is  Captain  Millen,  our 
commodore ' ' 

"  Exactly." 

Hans  Johanne  Von  Dagerman  had  come 
up  the  stairs  and  seated  himself  in  the 
deck-chair.  His  tar-stained  hands  were 
hidden  in  gloves;  his  symmetrical  figure 
was  clad  in  the  New  York  Yacht  Club  uni- 
form; and  the  weary  eyes  glittered  in  his 
bronzed  face  with  an  expression  as  deadly 
in   its   earnestness  as   the   gesture   which 

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brought  two  revolvers  from  his  pockets 
and  up  to  a  line  with  the  visitors'  heads. 

"Exactly,"  he  repeated;  "  we've  met 
before.  Don't  trouble  yourself  to  intro- 
duce them,  uncle — allow  me.  Allow  me 
to  make  you  acquainted  with  three  as 
black-hearted,  inhuman  scoundrels  as  ever 
disgraced  humanity." 

"Why,  John,  John,  what  does  this 
mean  ?  "  exclaimed  the  puzzled  old  gentle- 
man, while  Captain  Millen,  pale  and  em- 
barrassed, stuttered:  "  I  didn't  know,  sir; 
why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  "  Mr.  Pratt  and 
Mr.  Barker  said  nothing,  but  looked  from 
the  leveled  pistols  forward  to  the  two  lines 
of  observant  men,  and  noticed  that  the 
yacht  was  under  way  and  heading  to  sea. 

"Uncle,  how  long  has  Captain  Millen 
commanded  a  ship  for  father  ?  " 

"  Over  twenty-five  years,  John;  and  he 
now  stands  first — as  good,  capable,  and 
honest  a  captain  as  ever  sailed  a  ship.  I 
am  astonished." 

"  Urn — humph — I  see.  Yet  I  am  afraid 
that  if  father  knows  now  how  his  money 
was  made, — how  every  dollar  was  wrung 
from  the  sweat,  and  the  blood,  and  the 
suffering  of  slaves, — he  is  not  resting  easy 
in  his  grave.  Uncle,  you  are  getting  old. 
In  a  week  I  shall  expect  a  statement  of 
the  business  of  the  line,  with  the  names 
and  whereabouts  of  the  ships  and  the 
names  of  the  captains.  There  is  going 
to  be  one  line  of  American  sailing-ships 
conducted  on  humane  principles.  But  be- 
fore you  relinquish  control,  examine  the 
official  log  of  the  '  Indiana  '  for  the  last 
voyage,  and  you  will  learn  that  one  Hans 
Johanne  Von  Dagerman  is  insane  and  not 
responsible  for  his   actions.      An   official 


log  is  excellent  testimony  in  court.  Now, 
then,  you  three,  off  with  your  coats  and 
throw  them  down  the  companionway — 
quickly,  or  I'll  lift  the  tops  of  your  heads." 

He  was  still  seated  in  the  deck-chair, 
but  his  voice  rang  out  like  the  blare  of  a 
trumpet;  and  they  obeyed  him,  while  the 
old  gentleman  wrung  his  hands  nervously. 

"  Turn  your  trousers  pockets  inside  out," 
he  commanded,  and  was  obeyed  again. 

"  Now,  boys,"  he  called,  excitedly, 
"they  haven't  any  pistols,  and  we've  got 
them  right  where  we  want  them.  Tom — 
Jim — Ned — hurrah!  here;  come  on!  Lars 
— drive  in;  there's  a  railful  of  brass  belay  - 
ing-pins;  there's  a  rack  of  handspikes; 
David,  remember  your  teeth.  Come  on, 
Fred!  Come  on,  the  whole  crowd  of  you! 
Let  them  know  how  it  feels.  Give  it  to 
them!" 

An  hour  later,  three  men  —  scarred, 
bleeding,  and  groaning — stripped  to  rem- 
nants of  underclothing,  conscious  of 
nothing  but  their  terrible  pain,  were  low- 
ered into  a  boat  and  landed  at  the  wharf 
of  Bellevue  Hospital,  from  which  institu- 
tion emanated,  in  a  few  days,  certain  offi- 
cial notifications  to  the  police  which  re- 
sulted in  certain  official  inquiries  that  were 
immediately  hushed. 

A  few  days  later  a  shocked  and  agitated 
old  gentleman  betook  himself  to  the  moun- 
tains to  be  treated  for  nervous  prostra- 
tion; and  in  a  few  months  a  young  club 
man — former  good  fellow,  lately  returned 
from  abroad — had  excited  much  gossip 
and  puzzled  comment  among  his  friends, 
because  of  his  serious  demeanor,  changed 
habits*  and  strict  attention  to  business. 


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Drawn  by  Charles  Dana  Gibson. 


•  |  beard  her  »obt."    See  page  556. 

"RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU,"  CHAPTER  XIV. 


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FROM    THE    MEMOIRS    OF    FRITZ    VON    TARLENHEIM. 

By  Anthony  Hope. 

Being  the  sequel  to  a  story  by  the  same  writer  entitled  "  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda." 
With  full-pagb  illustrations  by  Charlbs  Dana  Gibson. 


INTRODUCTION  AND  SUMMARY  OF  EARLIER  CHAPTERS. 


Rudolf  Rassendyll,  as  an  act  of  friendship  to  Rudolf,  King 
of  Ruritania,  his  distant  relative,  takes  advantage  of  a  close 
resemblance  between  them  and  impersonates  the  king 
through  a  grave  crisis  in  the  latter's  affairs.  He  even  plays 
the  king's  part  as  the  prospective  husband  of  the  Princess 
Flavia.  But  in  so  doing  he  loses  his  heart,  while  the  prin- 
cess suddenly  discovers  in  her  lover  a  fervor  and  fascination 
she  had  not  found  in  him  before.  In  the  end,  the  princess 
dutifully  marries  the  real  king  ;  but  thereafter,  once  a  year, 
she  sends  a  gift  and  a  verbal  message  to  Rassendyll  in  token 
of  her  remembrance  of  him.  This  continues  for  three  years. 
Then,  under  a  passionate  impulse,  she  sends  with  her  yearly 

gift  a  letter.  The  bearer,  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim,  is  betrayed 
y  his  servant  Bauer,  and  assaulted  and  robbed  of  the  letter 
by  Rupert  of  Hentzau.    The  queen  and  her  friends— Ras- 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

A    KING    UP    HIS   SLEEVE. 

THE  tall  handsome  girl  was  taking 
down  the  shutters  from  the  shop 
front  at  No.  19  in  the  Konigstrasse.  She 
went  about  her  work  languidly  enough, 
but  there  was  a  tinge  of  dusky  red  on  her 
cheeks  and  her  eyes  were  brightened  by 
some  suppressed  excitement.  Old  Mother 
Holf,  leaning  against  the  counter,  was 
grumbling  angrily  because  Bauer  did  not 
come.  Now  it  was  not  likely  that  Bauer 
would  come  just  yet,  for  he  was  still  in 


sendyll,  Von  Tarlenheim,  Colonel  Sapt,  and  Lieutenant 
Bcrncnstcin— now  put  forth  all  their  power  and  ingenuity 
to  recover  the  letter.  Despite  their  precautions,  Rupert 
gets  to  the  king  one  night  when  the  latter  is  staying  at  a 
remote  hunting-lodge.  But  before  Rupert  can  give  him  the 
letter,  or  tell  him  of  it,  they  fall  into  a  quarrel,  and  the  king 
is  killed.  Rupert  flies.  Sapt,  Von  Tarlenheim,  and  Rassen- 
dyll's  servant,  James,  coming  soon  after  to  the  lodge,  learn 
what  has  happened  from  the  king's  attendant,  Herbert,  who 
himself  soon  dies  of  a  wound  received  in  the  fight.  Rischen- 
heim  (Rupert's  accomplice),  the  queen,  and  Rassendyll  are 
now  at  Strelsau,  where  Rassendyll  is  trying  to  get  a  meeting 
with  Rupert,  at  Rupert's  lodging,  No.  19  Konigstrasse,  and 
force  the  letter  from  him.  Rassendyll  is  generally  supposed 
to  be  the  king,  and  at  present  he  dare  not  correct  the  mistake. 

the  infirmary  attached  to  the  police-cells, 
where  a  couple  of  doctors  were  very  busy 
setting  him  on  his  legs  again.  The  old 
woman  knew  nothing  of  this,  but  only 
that  he  had  gone  the  night  before  to  re- 
connoitre; where  he  was  to  play  the  spy 
she  did  not  know,  on  whom  perhaps  she 
guessed. 

"You're  sure  he  never  came  back?" 
she  asked  her  daughter. 

"  He  never  came  back  that  I  saw,"  an- 
swered the  girl.  "And  I  was  on  the 
watch  with  my  lamp  here  in  the  shop  till 
it  grew  light." 

"  He's  twelve  hours  gone  now,  and  never 
a  message !    Aye,  and  Count  Rupert  should 


Copyright,  1898,  by  A.  H.  Hawkins. 


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548 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU 


be  here  soon,  and  he'll  be  in  a  fine  taking 
if  Bauer's  not  back." 

The  girl  made  no  answer;  she  had  fin- 
ished her  task  and  stood  in  the  doorway, 
looking  out  on  the  street.  It  was  past 
eight,  and  many  people  were  about,  still 
for  the  most  part  humble  folk;  the  more 
comfortably  placed  would  not  be  moving 
for  an  hour  or  two  yet.  In  the  road  the 
traffic  consisted  chiefly  of  country  carts 
and  wagons,  bringing  in  produce  for  the 
day's  victualling  of  the  great  city.  The  girl 
watched  the  stream,  but  her  thoughts  were 
occupied  with  the  stately  gentleman  who 
had  come  to  her  by  night  and  asked  a 
service  of  her.  She  had  heard  the  revol- 
ver shot  outside;  as  it  sounded  she  had 
blown  out  her  lamp,  and  there  behind  the 
door  in  the  dark  had  heard  the  swiftly  re- 
treating feet  of  the  fugitives  and,  a  little 
later,  the  arrival  of  the  patrol.  Well,  the 
patrol  would  not  dare  to  touch  the  king; 
as  for  Bauer,  let  him  be  alive  or  dead: 
what  cared  she,  who  was  the  king's  serv- 
ant, able  to  help  the  king  against  his  en- 
emies ?  If  Bauer  were  the  king's  enemy, 
right  glad  would  she  be  to  hear  that  the 
rogue  was  dead.  How  finely  the  king 
had  caught  him  by  the  neck  and  thrown 
him  out!  She  laughed  to  think  how  little 
her  mother  knew  the  company  she  had 
kept  that  night. 

The  row  of  country  carts  moved  slowly 
by.  One  or  two  stopped  before  the  shop, 
and  the  carters  offered  vegetables  for  sale. 
The  old  woman  would  have  nothing  to  say 
to  them,  but  waved  them  on  irritably. 
Three  had  thus  stopped  and  again  pro- 
ceeded, and  an  impatient  grumble  broke 
from  the  old  lady  as  a  fourth,  a  covered 
wagon,  drew  up  before  the  door. 

"We  don't  want  anything:  go  on,  go 
on  with  you!  "  she  cried  shrilly. 

The  carter  got  down  from  his  seat  with- 
out heeding  her,  and  walked  round  to  the 
back. 

"  Here  you  are,  sir,"  he  cried.  "  Nine- 
teen, Konigstrasse." 

A  yawn  was  heard,  and  the  long  sigh  a 
man  gives  as  he  stretches  himself  in  the 
mingled  luxury  and  pain  of  an  awakening 
after  sound  refreshing  sleep. 

"  All  right;  I'll  get  down,"  came  in  an- 
swer from  inside. 

"  Ah,  it's  the  count!  "  said  the  old  lady 
to  her  daughter  in  satisfied  tones.  "  What 
will  he  say,  though,  about  that  rogue 
Bauer?" 

Rupert  of  Hentzau  put  his  head  out 
from  under  the  wagon-tilt,  looked  up  and 
down  the  street,  gave  the  carter  a  couple 


of  crowns,  leapt  down,  and  ran  lightly 
across  the  pavement  into  the  little  shop. 
The  wagon  moved  on. 

"A  lucky  thing  I  met  him,"  said  Ru- 
pert cheerily.  "  The  wagon  hid  me  very 
well;  and  handsome  as  my  face  is,  I  can't 
let  Strelsau  enjoy  too  much  of  it  just 
now.  Well,  mother,  what  cheer  ?  And 
you,  my  pretty,  how  goes  it  with  you  ?  " 
He  carelessly  brushed  the  girl's  cheek 
with  the  glove  that  he  had  drawn  off. 
"Faith,  though,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he 
added  a  moment  later:  "the  glove's  not 
clean  enough  for  that,"  and  he  looked  at 
his  buff  glove,  which  was  stained  with 
patches  of  dull  rusty  brown. 

"It's  all  as  when  you  left,  Count  Ru- 
pert," said  Mother  Holf,  "except  that 
that  rascal  Bauer  went  out  last  night " 

"That's  right  enough.  But  hasn't  he 
returned  ?" 

"  No,  not  yet." 

"  Hum.  No  signs  of — anybody  else  ?  " 
His  look  defined  the  vague  question. 

The  old  woman  shook  her  head.  The 
girl  turned  away  to  hide  a  smile.  "  Any- 
body else"  meant  the  king,  so  she  sus- 
pected. Well,  they  should  hear  nothing 
from  her.  The  king  himself  had  charged 
her  to  be  silent. 

"  But  Rischenheim  has  come,  I  sup- 
pose ? "  pursued  Rupert. 

"Oh,  yes;  he  came,  my  lord,  soon 
after  you  went.  He  weafs  his  arm  in  a 
sling." 

"Ah!"  cried  Rupert  in  sudden  excite- 
ment. "As  I  guessed!  The  devil!  If 
only  I  could  do  everything  myself,  and 
not  have  to  trust  to  fools  and  bunglers! 
Where's  the  count?" 

"Why,  in  the  attic.  You  know  the 
way." 

"  True.  But  I  want  some  breakfast, 
mother." 

"Rosa  shall  serve  you  at  once,  my 
lord." 

The  girl  followed  Rupert  up  the  nar- 
row, crazy  staircase  of  the  tall  old  house. 
They  passed  three  floors,  all  uninhabited;  a 
last  steep  flight  brought  them  right  under 
the  deep  arched  roof.  Rupert  opened  a 
door  that  stood  at  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
and,  followed  still  by  Rosa  with  her  myste- 
rious happy  smile,  entered  a  long,  narrow 
room.  The  ceiling,  high  in  the  center, 
sloped  rapidly  down  on  either  side,  so  that 
at  door  and  window  it  was  little  more 
than  six  feet  above  the  floor.  There  were 
an  oak  table  and  a  few  chairs;  a  couple 
of  iron  bedsteads  stood  by  the  wall  near 
the  window.      One  was  empty;  the  Count 


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of  Luzau-Rischenheim  lay  on  the  other, 
fully  dressed,  his  right  arm  supported  in  a 
sling  of  black  silk.  Rupert  paused  on  the 
threshold,  smiling  at  his  cousin;  the  girl 
passed  on  to  a  high  press  or  cupboard, 
and,  opening  it,  took  out  plates,  glasses, 
and  the  other  furniture  of  the  table.  Ris- 
chenheim  sprang  up  and  ran  across  the 
room. 

44  What  news  ? "  he  cried  eagerly.  "  You 
escaped  them,  Rupert  ?  " 

"It  appears  so,"  said  Rupert  airily; 
and,  advancing  into  the  room,  he  threw 
himself  into  a  chair,  tossing  his  hat  .on  to 
the  table.  "  It  appears  that  I  escaped,  al- 
though some  fool's  stupidity  nearly  made 
an  end  of  me." 

Rischenheim  flushed. 

"I'll  tell  you  about  that  directly,"  he 
said,  glancing  at  the  girl  who  had  put 
some  cold  meat  and  a  bottle  of  wine  on 
the  table,  and  was  now  completing  the 
preparations  for  Rupert's  meal  in  a  very 
leisurely  fashion. 

"  Had  I  nothing  to  do  but  look  at  pretty 
faces — which,  by  heaven,  I  wish  heartily 
were  the  case — I  would  beg  you  to  stay," 
said  Rupert,  rising  and  making  her  a  pro- 
found bow. 

44  I've  no  wish  to  hear  what  doesn't  con- 
cern me,"  she  retorted  scornfully. 

"  What  a  rare  and  blessed  disposition!  " 
said  he,  holding  the  door  for  her  and  bow- 
ing again. 

44 1  know  what  I  know,"  she  cried  to 
him  triumphantly  from  the  landing.  "  May- 
be you'd  give  something  to  know  it  too, 
Count  Rupert!  " 

"  It's  very  likely,  for,  by  heaven,  girls 
know  wonderful  things!"  smiled  Rupert; 
but  he  shut  the  door  and  came  quickly 
back  to  the  table,  now  frowning  again. 
"  Come,  tell  me,  how  did  they  make  a  fool 
of  you,  or  why  did  you  make  a  fool  of  me, 
cousin  ?" 

While  Rischenheim  related  how  he  had 
been  trapped  and  tricked  at  the  Castle  of 
Zenda,  Rupert  of  Hentzau  made  a  very 
good  breakfast.  He  offered  no  interrup- 
tion and  no  comments,  but  when  Rudolf 
Rassendyll  came  into  the  story  he  looked 
up  for  an  instant  with  a  quick  jerk  of  his 
head  and  a  sudden  light  in  his  eyes.  The 
end  of  Rischenheim's  narrative  found 
him  tolerant  and  smiling  again. 

"  Ah,  well,  the  snare  was  cleverly  set," 
he  said.  "  I  don't  wonder  you  fell  into 
it." 

"And  now  you?  What  happened  to 
you  ? "  asked  Rischenheim  eagerly. 

"  I  ?     Why,  having  your  message  which 


was  not  your  message,  I  obeyed  your  di- 
rections which  were  not  your  directions." 

44  You  went  to  the  lodge  ?  " 

44  Certainly." 

44  And  found  Sapt  there  ? — Anybody 
else?" 

44  Why,  not  Sapt  at  all." 

44  Not  Sapt?  But  surely  they  laid  a 
trap  for  you  ?" 

44  Very  possibly,  but  the  jaws  didn't 
bite."  Rupert  crossed  his  legs  and  lit  a 
cigarette. 

44  But  what  did  you  find?" 

44 1  ?  I  found  the  king's  forester,  and 
the  king's  boar-hound,  and — well,  I  found 
the  king  himself,  too." 

44  The  king  at  the  lodge  ?  " 

44  You  weren't  so  wrong  as  you  thought, 
were  you  ?" 

44  But  surely  Sapt,  or  Bernenstein,  or 
some  one  was  with  him  ? " 

44  As  I  tell  you,  his  forester  and  his  boar- 
hound.  No  other  man  or  beast,  on  my 
honor." 

44  Then  you  gave  him  the  letter  ?  "  cried 
Rischenheim,  trembling  with  excitement. 

44  Alas,  no,  my  dear  cousin.  I  threw  the 
box  at  him,  but  I  don't  think  he  had  time 
to  open  it.  We  didn't  get  to  that  stage  of 
the  conversation  at  which  I  had  intended 
to  produce  the  letter." 

44  But  why  not — why  not  ? " 

Rupert  rose  to  his  feet,  and,  coming 
just  opposite  to  where  Rischenheim  sat, 
balanced  himself  on  his  heels,  and  looked 
down  at  his  cousin,  blowing  the  ash  from 
his  cigarette  and  smiling  pleasantly. 

44  Have  you  noticed,"  he  asked,  "  that 
my  coat's  torn  ?  " 

44 1  see  it  is." 

44  Yes.  The  boar-hound  tried  to  bite 
me,  cousin.  And  the  forester  would  have 
stabbed  me.  And — well,  the  king  wanted 
to  shoot  me." 

44  Yes,  yes!  For  God's  sake,  what  hap- 
pened ?" 

44  Well,  they  none  of  them  did  what 
they  wanted.  That's  what  happened,  dear 
cousin." 

Rischenheim  was  staring  at  him  now 
with  wide-opened  eyes.  Rupert  smiled 
down  on  him  composedly. 

44  Because,  you  see,"  he  added, 44  heaven 
helped  me.  So  that,  my  dear  cousin,  the 
dog  will  bite  no  more,  and  the  forester  will 
stab  no  more.  Surely  the  country  is  well 
rid  of  them  ?" 

A  silence  followed.  Then  Rischenheim, 
leaning  forward,  said  in  a  low  whisper, 
as  though  afraid  to  hear  his  own  ques- 
tion: 


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RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


"And  the  king?" 

"  The  king?  Well,  the  king  will  shoot 
no  more." 

For  a  moment  Rischenheim,  still  leaning 
forward,  gazed  at  his  cousin.  Then  he 
sank  slowly  back  into  his  chair. 

"My  God!"  he  murmured:  "my 
God!" 

"The  king  was  a  fool,"  said  Rupert. 
"Come,  I'll  tell  you  a  little  more  about 
it."  He  drew  a  chair  up  and  seated  him- 
self in  it. 

While  he  talked  Rischenheim  seemed 
hardly  to  listen.  The  story  gained  in 
effect  from  the  contrast  of  Rupert's  airy 
telling;  his  companion's  pale  face  and 
twitching  hands  tickled  his  fancy  to  more 
shameless  jesting.  But  when  he  had  fin- 
ished, he  gave  a  pull  to  his  small,  smartly- 
curled  mustache  and  said  with  a  sudden 
gravity: 

"  After  all,  though,  it's  a  serious  mat- 
ter." 

Rischenheim  was  appalled  at  the  issue. 
His  cousin's  influence  had  been  strong 
enough  to  lead  him  into  the  affair  of  the 
letter;  he  was  aghast  to  think  how  Ru- 
pert's reckless  dare-deviltry  had  led  on 
from  stage  to  stage  till  the  death  of  a  king 
seemed  but  an  incident  in  his  schemes. 
He  sprang  suddenly  to  his  feet,  crying: 

"  But  we  must  fly — we  must  fly!  " 

"  No,  we  needn't  fly.  Perhaps  we'd 
better  go,  but  we  needn't  fly." 

"But   when  it  becomes   known ?" 

He  broke  off  and  then  cried:  "Why  did 
you  tell  me  ?  Why  did  you  come  back 
here?" 

"  Well,  I  told  you  because  it  was  inter- 
esting, and  I  came  back  here  because  I 
had  no  money  to  go  elsewhere." 

"  I  would  have  sent  money." 

"  I  find  that  I  get  more  when  I  ask 
in  person.  Besides,  is  everything  fin- 
ished ? " 

"  I'll  have  no  more  to  do  with  it." 

"Ah,  my  dear  cousin,  you  despond  too 
soon.  The  good  king  is  unhappily  gone 
from  us,  but  we  still  have  our  dear  queen. 
We  have  also,  by  the  kindness  of  heaven, 
our  dear  queen's  letter." 

"  I'll  have  no  more  to  do  with  it." 

"Your  neck  feeling  ...  ?"  Rupert 
delicately  imitated  the  putting  of  a  noose 
about  a  man's  throat. 

Rischenheim  rose  suddenly  and  flung 
the  window  open  wide. 

"I'm  suffocated,"  he  muttered  with  a 
sullen  frown,  avoiding  Rupert's  eyes. 

"  Where's  Rudolf  Rassendyll  ?  "  asked 
Rupert.     "  Have  you  heard  of  him  ?  " 


"  No,  I  don't  know  where  he  is." 

"  We  must  find  that  out,  I  think." 

Rischenheim  turned  abruptly  on  him. 

"  I  had  no  hand  in  this  thing,"  he  said, 
"  and  I'll  have  no  more  to  do  with  it.  I 
was  not  there.  What  did  I  know  of  the 
king  being  there?  I'm  not  guilty  of  it: 
on  my  soul,  I  knew  nothing  of  it." 

"That's  all  very  true,"  nodded  Ru- 
pert. 

"  Rupert,"  cried  he,  "  let  me  go,  let  me 
alone.  If  you  want  money,  I'll  give  it 
you.  For  God's  sake  take  it,  and  get  out 
of  Strelsau!" 

"I'm  ashamed  to  beg,  my  dear  cousin, 
but  in  fact  I  want  a  little  money  until  I 
can  contrive  to  realize  my  valuable  prop- 
erty. Is  it  safe,  I  wonder  ?  Ah,  yes,  here 
it  is." 

He  drew  from  his  inner  pocket  the 
queen's  letter.  "  Now  if  the  king  hadn't 
been  a  fool!  "  he  murmured  regretfully, 
as  he  regarded  it. 

Then  he  walked  across  to  the  window 
and  looked  out;  he  could  not  himself  be 
seen  from  the  street,  and  nobody  was 
visible  at  the  windows  opposite.  Men  and 
women  passed  to  and  fro  on  their  daily 
labors  or  pleasures;  there  was  no  unusual 
stir  in  the  city.  Looking  over  the  roofs, 
Rupert  could  see  the  royal  standard  float- 
ing in  the  wind  over  the  palace  and  the 
barracks.  He  took  out  his  watch;  Ris- 
chenheim imitated  his  action:  it  was  ten 
minutes  to  ten. 

"Rischenheim,"  he  called,  "come 
,  here  a  moment.     Here — look  out." 

Rischenheim  obeyed,  and  Rupert  let  him 
look  for  a  minute  or  two  before  speaking 
again. 

"Do  you  see  anything  remarkable?" 
he  asked  then. 

"  No,  nothing,"  answered  Rischenheim, 
still  curt  and  sullen  in  his  fright. 

"  Well,  no  more  do  I.  And  that's  very 
odd.  For  don't  you  think  that  Sapt  or 
some  other  of  her  majesty's  friends  must 
have  gone  to  the  lodge  last  night  ?  " 

"They  meant  to,  I  swear,"  said  Ris- 
chenheim with  sudden  attention. 

"  Then  they  would  have  found  the  king. 
There's  a  telegraph  wire  at  Hofbau,  only 
a  few  miles  away.  And  it's  ten  o'clock. 
My  cousin,  why  isn't  Strelsau  mourning 
for  our  lamented  king  ?  Why  aren't  the 
flags  at  half-mast  ?  I  don't  understand 
it." 

"  No,"  murmured  Rischenheim,  his  eyes 
now  fixed  on  his  cousin's  face. 

Rupert  broke  into  a  smile  and  tapped  his 
teeth  with  his  fingers. 


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"I  wonder,"  said  he  meditatively,  "if 
that  old  player  Sapt  has  got  a  king  up  his 

sleeve  again  !     If  that  were  so "     He 

stopped  and  seemed  to  fall  into  deep 
thought.  Rischenheim  did  not  interrupt 
him,  but  stood  looking  now  at  him,  now 
out  of  the  window.  Still  there  was  no  stir 
in  the  streets,  and  still  the  standards  floated 
at  the  summit  of  the  flagstaffs.  The 
king's  death  was  not  yet  known  in  Strel- 
sau. 

"Where's  Bauer?"  asked  Rupert  sud- 
denly. "  Where  the  plague  can  Bauer 
be  ?  He  was  my  eyes.  Here  we  are, 
cooped  up,  and  I  don't  know  what's  going 
on. 

"  I  don't  know  where  he  is.  Something 
must  have  happened  to  him." 

"  Of  course,  my  wise  cousin.  But 
what?" 

Rupert  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the 
room,  smoking  another  cigarette  at  a 
great  pace.  Rischenheim  sat  down  by  the 
table,  resting  his  head  on  his  hand.  He 
was  wearied  out  by  strain  and  excitement, 
his  wounded  arm  pained  him  greatly,  and 
he  was  full  of  horror  and  remorse  at  the 
event  which  had  happened  unknown  to  him 
the  night  before. 

"I  wish  I  was  quit  of  it,"  he  moaned 
at  last. 

Rupert  stopped  before  him. 

"You  repent  of  your  misdeeds?"  he 
asked.  "Well,  then,  you  shall  be  allowed 
to  repent.  Nay,  you  shall  go  and  tell  the 
king  that  you  repent.  Rischenheim,  I 
must  know  what  they  are  doing.  You 
must  go  and  ask  an  audience  of  the  king." 

"But  the  king  is " 

"We  shall  know  that  better  when 
you've  asked  for  your  audience.  See 
here." 

Rupert  sat  down  by  his  cousin  and  in- 
structed him  in  his  task.  This  was  no 
other  than  to  discover  whether  there  were 
a  king  in  Strelsau,  or  whether  the  only 
king  lay  dead  in  the  hunting-lodge.  If 
there  were  no  attempt  being  made  to  con- 
ceal the  king's  death,  Rupert's  plan  was 
to  seek  safety  in  flight.  He  did  not  aban- 
don his  designs:  from  the  secure  vantage 
of  foreign  soil  he  would  hold  the  queen's 
letter  over  her  head,  and  by  the  threat  of 
publishing  it  insure  at  once  immunity  for 
himself  and  almost  any  further  terms  which 
he  chose  to  exact  from  her.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  Count  of  Luzau-Rischen- 
heim  found  a  king  in  Strelsau,  if  the  royal 
standards  xmtinued  to  wave  at  the  summit 
of  their  flagstaffs,  and  Strelsau  knew 
nothing  of  the  dead  man  in  the  lodge,  then 


Rupert  had  laid  his  hand  on  another  se- 
cret; for  he  knew  who  the  king  in  Strelsau 
must  be.  Starting  from  this  point,  his 
audacious  mind  darted  forward  to  new  and 
bolder  schemes.  He  could  offer  again  to 
Rudolf  Rassendyll  what  he  had  offered 
once  before,  three  years  ago — a  partner- 
ship in  crime  and  the  profits  of  crime — or 
if  this  advance  were  refused,  then  he 
declared  that  he  would  himself  descend 
openly  into  the  streets  of  Strelsau  and  pro- 
claim the  death  of  the  king  from  the  steps 
of  the  cathedral. 

"  Who  can  tell,"  he  cried,  springing  up, 
enraptured  and  merry  with  the  inspiration 
of  his  plan,  "who  can  tell  whether  Sapt 
or  I  came  first  to  the  lodge  ?  Who  found 
the  king  alive,  Sapt  or  I  ?  Who  left  him 
dead,  Sapt  or  I  ?  Who  had  most  interest 
in  killing  him — I,  who  only  sought  to 
make  him  aware  of  what  touched  his 
honor,  or  Sapt,  who  was  and  is  hand  and 
glove  with  the  man  that  now  robs  him  of 
his  name  and  usurps  his  place  while  his 
body  is  still  warm  ?  Ah,  they  haven't 
done  with  Rupert  of  Hentzau  yet!  " 

He  stopped,  looking  down  on  his 
companion.  Rischenheim's  fingers  still 
twitched  nervously  and  his  cheeks  were 
pale.  But  now  his  face  was  alight  with 
interest  and  eagerness.  Again  the  fasci- 
nation of  Rupert's  audacity  and  the  infec- 
tion of  his  courage  caught  on  his  kinsman's 
weaker  nature,  and  inspired  him  to  a  tem- 
porary emulation  of  the  will  that  domi- 
nated him. 

"You  see,"  pursued  Rupert,  "it's  not 
likely  that  they'll  do  you  any  harm." 

"  I'll  risk  anything." 

"  Most  gallant  gentleman!  At  the  worst 
they'll  only  keep  you  a  prisoner.  Well, 
if  you're  not  back  in  a  couple  of  hours,  I 
shall  draw  my  conclusions.  I  shall  know 
that  there's  a  king  in  Strelsau." 

"  But  where  shall  I  look  for  the  king  ?  " 

"  Why,  first  in  the  palace,  and  secondly 
at  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim's.  I  expect  you'll 
find  him  at  Fritz's,  though." 

"  Shall  I  go  there  first,  then  ?  " 

"  No.  That  would  be  seeming  to  know 
too  much." 

"You'll  wait  here?" 

"  Certainly,  cousin — unless  I  see  cause 
to  move,  you  know." 

"  And  I  shall  find  you  on  my  return  ? " 

"  Me,  or  directions  from  me.  By  the 
way,  bring  money  too.  There's  never  any 
harm  in  having  a  full  pocket.  I  wonder 
what  the  devil  does  without  a  breeches- 
pocket!  " 

Rischenheim  let  that  curious  speculation 


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RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


alone,  although  he  remembered  the  whim- 
sical air  with  which  Rupert  delivered  it. 
He  was  now  on  fire  to  be  gone,  his  ill- 
balanced  brain  leaping  from  the  depths  of 
despondency  to  the  certainty  of  brilliant 
success,  and  not  heeding  the  gulf  of  dan- 
ger that  it  surpassed  in  buoyant  fancy. 

"We  shall  have  them  in  a  corner,  Ru- 
pert," he  cried. 

"  Ay,  perhaps.  But  wild  beasts  in  a 
corner  bite  hard." 

"  I  wish  my  arm  were  well!  " 

"You'll  be  safer  with  it  wounded," 
said  Rupert  with  a  smile. 

"By  God,  Rupert,  I  can  defend  my- 
self." 

"  True,  true;  but  it's  your  brain  I  want 
now,  cousin." 

"  You  shall  see  that  I  have  something 
in  me." 

"  If  it  please  God,  dear  cousin." 

With  every  mocking  encouragement  and 
every  careless  taunt  Rischenheim's  resolve 
to  prove  himself  a  man  grew  stronger. 
He  snatched  up  a  revolver  that  lay  on  the 
mantelpiece  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

"Don't  fire,  if  you  can  help  it,"  ad- 
vised Rupert. 

Rischenheim's  answer  was  to  make  for 
the  door  at  a  great  speed.  Rupert  watched 
him  go,  and  then  returned  to  the  window. 
The  last  his  cousin  saw  was  his  figure 
standing  straight  and  lithe  against  the 
light,  while  he  looked  out  on  the  city. 
Still  there  was  no  stir  in  the  streets,  still 
the  royal  standard  floated  at  the  top  of 
the  flagstaffs. 

Rischenheim  plunged  down  the  stairs: 
his  feet  were  too  slow  for  his  eagerness. 
At  the  bottom  he  found  the  girl  Rosa 
sweeping  the  passage  with  great  apparent 
diligence. 

"You're  going  out,  my  lord?"  she 
asked. 

"Why,  yes;  I  have  business.  Pray 
stand  on  one  side,  this  passage  is  so  curs- 
edly narrow." 

Rosa  showed  no  haste  in  moving. 

"  And  the  Count  Rupert,  is  he  going 
out  also  ?  "  she  asked. 

"You   see   he's   not   with    me.      He'll 

wait "      Rischenheim   broke   off  and 

asked  angrily:  "What  business  is  it  of 
yours,  girl  ?     Get  out  of  the  way!  " 

She  moved  aside  now,  making  him  no 
answer.  He  rushed  past;  she  looked  after 
him  with  a  smile  of  triumph.  Then  she 
fell  again  to  her  sweeping.  The  king  had 
bidden  her  be  ready  at  ten.  It  was  half- 
past  ten.  Soon  the  king  would  have  need 
of  her. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE  NEWS  COMES  TO  STRELSAU. 

On  leaving  No.  19,  Rischenheim  walked 
swiftly  some  little  way  up  the  Kdnig- 
strasse  and  then  hailed  a  cab.  He  had 
hardly  raised  his  hand  when  he  heard  his 
name  called,  and,  looking  round,  saw  An- 
ton von  Strofzin's  smart  phaeton  pulling 
up  beside  him.  Anton  was  driving,  and 
on  the  other  seat  was  a  large  nosegay  of 
choice  flowers. 

"  Where  are  you  off  to  ?  "  cried  Anton, 
leaning  forward  with  a  gay  smile. 

"  Well,  where  are  you  ?  To  a  lady's,  I 
presume,  from  your  bouquet  there,"  an- 
swered Rischenheim  as  lightly  as  he  could. 

"  The  little  bunch  of  flowers,"  simpered 
young  Anton,  "  is  a  cousinly  offering  to 
Helga  von  Tarlenheim,  and  I'm  going  to 
present  it.  Can  I  give  you  a  lift  any- 
where?" 

Although  Rischenheim  had  intended 
to  go  first  to  the  palace,  Anton's  offer 
seemed  to  give  him  a  good  excuse  for 
drawing  the  more  likely  covert  first. 

"  I  was  going  to  the  palace  to  find  out 
where  the  king  is.  I  want  to  see  him,  if 
he'll  give  me  a  minute  or  two,"  he  re- 
marked. 

"  I'll  drive  you  there  afterwards.  Jump 
up.  That  your  cab  ?  Here  you  are,  cab- 
man," and,  flinging  the  cabman  a  crown, 
he  displaced  the  bouquet  and  made  room 
for  Rischenheim  beside  him. 

Anton's  horses,  of  which  he  was  not  a 
little  proud,  made  short  work  of  the  dis- 
tance to  my  home.  The  phaeton  rattled 
up  to  the  door  and  both  the  young  men 
got  out.  The  moment  of  their  arrival 
found  the  chancellor  just  leaving  to  return 
to  his  own  home.  Helsing  knew  them  both, 
and  stopped  to  rally  Anton  on  the  mat- 
ter of  his  bouquet.  Anton  was  famous 
for  his  bouquets,  which  he  distributed 
widely  among  the  ladies  of  Strelsau. 

"  I  hoped  it  was  for  my  daughter,"  said 
the  chancellor  slyly.  "  For  I  love  flowers, 
and  my  wife  has  ceased  to  provide  me  with 
them;  moreover,  I've  ceased  to  provide 
her  with  them,  so,  but  for  my  daughter, 
we  should  have  none." 

Anton  answered  his  chaff,  promising  a 
bouquet  for  the  young  lady  the  next  day, 
but  declaring  that  he  could  not  disappoint 
his  cousin.  He  was  interrupted  by  Ris- 
chenheim, who,  looking  round  on  the 
group  of  bystanders,  now  grown  numer- 
ous, exclaimed:  "What's  going  on  here, 

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my  dear  chancellor  ?  What  are  all  these 
people  hanging  about  here  for?  Ah, 
that's  a  royal  carriage!  " 

"The  queen's  with  the  countess,"  an- 
swered Helsing.  "The  people  are  wait- 
ing to  see  her  come  out." 

"She's  always  worth    seeing,"   Anton 
pronounced,  sticking  his  glass  in  his  eye, 
-    "And  you've  been  to  visit  her?"  pur- 
sued Rischenheim. 

"Why,  yes.  I — I  went  to  pay  my  re- 
spects, my  dear  Rischenheim." 

"  An  early  visit!  " 

"  It  was  more  or  less  on  business." 

"  Ah,  I  have  business  also,  and  very 
important  business.  But  it's  with  the 
king." 

"  I  won't  keep  you  a  moment,  Rischen- 
heim," called  Anton,  as,  bouquet  in  hand, 
he  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  With  the  king  ?  "  said  Helsing.  "  Ah, 
yes,  but  the  king " 

"  I'm  on  my  way  to  the  palace  to  find 
out  where  he  is.  If  I  can't  see  him,  I 
must  write  at  once.  My  business  is  very 
urgent." 

"  Indeed,  my  dear  count,  indeed!  Dear 
me!     Urgent,  you  say  ?  " 

"  But  perhaps  you  can  help  me.  Is  he 
at  Zenda?" 

The  chancellor  was  becoming  very  em- 
barrassed; Anton  had  disappeared  into 
the  house;  Rischenheim  buttonholed  him 
resolutely. 

"At  Zenda?     Well,  now,  I  don't 

Excuse  me,  but  what's  your  business  ?  " 

"  Excuse  me,  my  dear  chancellor;  it's 
a  secret." 

"  I  have  the  king's  confidence." 

"  Then  you'll  be  indifferent  to  not  en- 
joying mine,"  smiled  Rischenheim. 

"  I  perceive  that  your  arm  is  hurt,"  ob- 
served the  chancellor,  seeking  a  diversion. 

"  Between  ourselves,  that  has  something 
to  do  with  my  business.  Well,  I  must  go 
to  the  palace.  Or — stay — would  her  maj- 
esty condescend  to  help  me  ?  I  think  I'll 
risk  a  request.  She  can  but  refuse;  "  and 
so  saying,  Rischenheim  approached  the 
door. 

"Oh,  my  friend,  I  wouldn't  do  that," 
cried  Helsing,  darting  after  him.  "The 
queen  is — well,  very  much  engaged.  She 
won't  like  to  be  troubled." 

Rischenheim  took  no  notice  of  him,  but 
knocked  loudly.  The  door  was  opened, 
and  he  told  the  butler  to  carry  his  name  to 
the  queen  and  beg  a  moment's  speech 
with  her.  Helsing  stood  in  perplexity  on 
the  step.  The  crowd  was  delighted  with 
the  coming  of  these  great  folk  and  showed 


no  sign  of  dispersing.  Anton  von  Strofzin 
did  not  reappear.  Rischenheim  edged 
himself  inside  the  doorway  and  stood  on 
the  threshold  of  the  hall.  There  he  heard 
voices  proceeding  from  the  sitting-room 
on  the  left.  He  recognized  the  queen's, 
my  wife's,  and  Anton's.  Then  came  the 
butler's,  saying,  "  I  will  inform  the  count 
of  your  majesty's  wishes." 

The  door  of  the  room  opened;  the  but- 
ler appeared,  and  immediately  behind  him 
Anton  von  Strofzin  and  Bernenstein. 
Bernenstein  had  the  young  fellow  by  the 
arm,  and  hurried  him  through  the  hall. 
They  passed  the  butler,  who  made  way  for 
them,  and  came  to  where  Rischenheim 
stood. 

"We  meet  again,"  said  Rischenheim 
with  a  bow. 

The  chancellor  rubbed  his  hands  in 
nervous  perturbation.  The  butler  stepped 
up  and  delivered  his  message:  the  queen 
regretted  her  inability  to  receive  the  count. 
Rischenheim  nodded,  and,  standing  so 
that  the  door  could  not  be  shut,  asked 
Bernenstein  whether  he  knew  where  the 
king  was. 

Now  Bernenstein  was  most  anxious  to 
get  the  pair  of  them  away  and  the  door 
shut,  but  he  dared  show  no  eagerness. 

"  Do  you  want  another  interview  with 
the  king  already  ? "  he  asked  with  a  smile. 
"  The  last  was  so  pleasant,  then  ?" 

Rischenheim  took  no  notice  of  the 
taunt,  but  observed  sarcastically:  "There's 
a  strange  difficulty  in  finding  our  good 
king.  The  chancellor  here  doesn't  know 
where  he  is,  or  at  least  he  won't  answer 
my  questions." 

"  Possibly  the  king  has  his  reasons  for 
not  wishing  to  be  disturbed,"  suggested 
Bernenstein. 

"  It's  very  possible,"  retorted  Rischen- 
heim significantly. 

"  Meanwhile,  my  dear  count,  I  shall 
take  it  as  a  personal  favor  if  you'll  move 
out  of  the  doorway." 

"  Do  I  incommode  you  by  standing 
here  ?  "  answered  the  count. 

"Infinitely,  my  lord,"  answered  Ber- 
nenstein stiffly. 

"Hallo,  Bernenstein,  what's  the  mat- 
ter?" cried  Anton,  seeing  that  their  tones 
•and  glances  had  grown  angry.  The  crowd 
also  had  noticed  the  raised  voices  and 
hostile  manner  of  the  disputants,  and  began 
to  gather  round  in  a  more  compact  group. 

Suddenly  a  voice  came  from  inside  the 
hall:  it  was  distinct  and  loud,  yet  not  with- 
out  a  touch  of  huskiness.     The  sound  o^«     jC~ 
it  hushed  the  rising  quarrel  and  silenc    ,      f 
itizedby  VjOOQLC      , 


554 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


the  crowd  into  expectant  stillness,  Ber- 
nenstein looked  aghast,  Rischenheim  ner- 
vous yet  triumphant,  Anton  amused  and 
gratified. 

14  The  king!  "  he  cried,  and  burst  into  a 
laugh.  "You've  drawn  him,  Rischen- 
heim!" 

The  crowd  heard  his  boyish  exclama- 
tion and  raised  a  cheer.  Helsing  turned, 
as  though  to  rebuke  them.  Had  not  the 
king  himself  desired  secrecy  ?  Yes,  but 
he  who  spoke  as  the  king  chose  any  risk 
sooner  than  let  Rischenheim  go  back  and 
warn  Rupert  of  his  presence. 

"  Is  that  the  Count  of  Luzau-Rischen- 
heim  ?  "  called  Rudolf  from  within.  "  If 
so,  let  him  enter  and  then  shut  the  door." 

There  was  something  in  his  tone  that 
alarmed  Rischenheim.  He  started  back 
on  the  step.  But  Bernenstein  caught  him 
by  the  arm. 

"  Since  you  wished  to  come  in,  come 
in,"  he  said  with  a  grim  smile. 

Rischenheim  looked  round,  as  though 
he  meditated  flight.  The  next  moment 
Bernenstein  was  thrust  aside.  For  one 
short  instant  a  tall  figure  appeared  in  the 
doorway;  the  crowd  had  but  a  glimpse, 
yet  they  cheered  again.  Rischenheim's 
hand  was  clasped  in  a  firm  grip;  he  passed 
unwillingly  but  helplessly  through  the 
door.  Bernenstein  followed;  the  door 
was  shut.  Anton  faced  round  on  Helsing, 
a  scornful  twist  on  his  lips. 

"  There  was  a  deuced  lot  of  mystery 
about  nothing,"  said  he.  "  Why  couldn't 
you  say  he  was  there?"  And  without 
waiting  for  an  answer  from  the  outraged 
and  bewildered  chancellor  he  swung  down 
the  steps  and  climbed  into  his  phaeton. 

The  people  round  were  chatting  noisily, 
delighted  to  have  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
king,  speculating  what  brought  him  and 
the  queen  to  my  house,  and  hoping  that 
they  would  soon  come  out  and  get  into  the 
royal  carriage  that  still  stood  waiting. 

Had  they  been  able  to  see  inside  the 
door,  their  emotion  would  have  been 
stirred  to  a  keener  pitch.  Rudolf  himself 
caught  Rischenheim  by  the  arm,  and  with- 
out a  moment's  delay  led  him  towards  the 
back  of  the  house.  They  went  along  a 
passage  and  reached  a  small  room  that 
looked  out  on  the  garden.  Rudolf  had 
known  my  house  in  old  days,  and  did  not 
forget  its  resources. 

"Shut    the    door,    Bernenstein,"    said 

Rudolf.     Then  he  turned  to  Rischenheim. 

"My   lord,"    he   said,    "I   suppose   you 

^ame   to   find   out    something.      Do   you 

>>w  it  now  ?  " 


Rischenheim  plucked  up  courage  to  an- 
swer him. 

"  Yes,  I  know  now  that  I  have  to  deal 
with  an  impostor,"  said  he  defiantly. 

"  Precisely.  And  impostors  can't  afford 
to  be  exposed." 

Rischenheim's  cheek  turned  rather  pale. 
Rudolf  faced  him,  and  Bernenstein 
guarded  the  door.  He  was  absolutely  at 
their  mercy;  and  he  knew  their  secret. 
Did  they  know  his — the  news  that  Rupert 
of  Hentzau  had  brought  ? 

"Listen,"  said  Rudolf.  "For  a  few 
hours  to-day  I  am  king  in  Strelsau.  In 
those  few  hours  I  have  an  account  to  set- 
tle with  your  cousin:  something  that  he 
has,  I  must  have.  I'm  going  now  to  seek 
him,  and  while  I  seek  him  you  will  stay 
here  with  Bernenstein.  Perhaps  I  shall 
fail,  perhaps  I  shall  succeed.  Whether  I 
succeed  or  fail,  by  to-night  I  shall  be  far 
from  Strelsau,  and  the  king's  place  will 
be  free  for  him  again." 

Rischenheim  gave  a  slight  start,  and  a 
look  of  triumph  spread  over  his  face.  They 
did  not  know  that  the  king  was  dead. 

Rudolf  came  nearer  to  him,  fixing  his 
eyes  steadily  on  his  prisoner's  face. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  continued,  "why 
you  are  in  this  business,  my  lord.  Your 
cousin's  motives  I  know  well.  But  I  won- 
der that  they  seemed  to  you  great  enough 
to  justify  the  ruin  of  an  unhappy  lady 
who  is  your  queen.  Be  assured  that  I  will 
die  sooner  than  let  that  letter  reach  the 
king's  hand." 

Rischenheim  made  him  no  answer. 

"  Are  you  armed  ?  "  asked  Rudolf. 

Rischenheim  sullenly  flung  his  revolver 
on  the  table.  Bernenstein  came  forward 
and  took  it. 

44  Keep  him  here,  Bernenstein.  When  I 
return  I'll  tell  you  what  more  to  do.  If 
I  don't  return,  Fritz  will  be  here  soon,  and 
you  and  he  must  make  your  bwn  plans." 

41  He  shan't  give  me  the  slip  a  second 
time,"  said  Bernenstein. 

44  We  hold  ourselves  free,"  said  Rudolf 
to  Rischenheim,  "  to  do  what  we  please 
with  you,  my  lord.  But  I  have  no  wish 
to  cause  your  death,  unless  it  be  neces- 
sary. You  will  be  wise  to  wait  till  your 
cousin's  fate  is  decided  before  you  at- 
►  tempt  any  further  steps  against  us."  And 
with  a  slight  bow  he  left  the  prisoner  in 
Bernenstein 's  charge,  and  went  back  to 
the  room  where  the  queen  awaited  him. 
Helga  was  with  her.  The  queen  sprang 
up  to  meet  him. 

44 1  mustn't  lose  a  moment,"  he  said. 
"  All  that  crowd  of  people  know  now  that 
Digitized  by  VjOOQlC 


ANTHONY  HOPE, 


555 


the  king  is  here.  The  news  will  filter 
through  the  town  in  no  time.  We  must 
send  word  to  Sapt  to  keep  it  from  the 
king's  ears  at  all  costs:  I  must  go  and  do 
my  work,  and  then  disappear." 

The  queen  stood  facing  him.  Her  eyes 
seemed  to  devour  his  face;  but  she  said 
only:  "  Yes,  it  must  be  so." 

"  You  must  return  to  the  palace  as  soon 
as  I  am  gone.  I  shall  send  out  and  ask 
the  people  to  disperse,  and  then  I  must  be 
off." 

"  To  seek  Rupert  of  Hentzau  ?  " 

11  Yes." 

She  struggled  for  a  moment  with  the 
contending  feelings  that  filled  her  heart. 
Then  she  came  to  him  and  seized  hold 
of  his  hand. 

"  Don't  go,"  she  said  in  low,  trembling 
tones.  "  Don't  go,  Rudolf.  He'll  kill 
you.  Never  mind  the  letter.  Don't  go: 
I  had  rather  a  thousand  times  that  the 
king  had  it  than  that  you  should  .  .  . 
Oh,  my  dear,  don't  go!  " 

"  I  must  go,"  he  said  softly. 

Again  she  began  to  implore  him,  but 
he  would  not  yield.  Helga  moved  to- 
wards the  door,  but  Rudolf  stopped  her. 

"No,"  he  said;  "you  must  stay  with 
her;  you  must  go  to  the  palace  with  her." 

Even  as  he  spoke  they  heard  the  wheels 
of  a  carriage  driven  quickly  to  the  door. 
By  now  I  had  met  Anton  von  Strofzin  and 
heard  from  him  that  the  king  was  at  my 
house.  As  I  dashed  up,  the  news  was 
confirmed  by  the  comments  and  jokes  of 
the  crowd. 

"Ah,  he's  in  a  hurry,"  they  said. 
"  He's  kept  the  king  waiting.  He'll  get 
a  wigging." 

As  may  be  supposed,  I  paid  little  heed 
to  them.  I  sprang  out  and  ran  up  the 
steps  to  the  door.  I  slaw  my  wife's  face 
at  the  window:  she  herself  ran  to  the 
door  and  opened  it  for  me. 

"Good  God,"  I  whispered,  "do  all 
these  people  know  he's  here,  and  take 
him  for  the  king?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "We  couldn't  help 
it.     He  showed  himself  at  the  door." 

It  was  worse  than  I  dreamt:  not  two  or 
three  people,  but  all  that  crowd  were 
victims  of  the  mistake;  all  of  them  had 
heard  that  the  king  was  in  Strelsau — ay, 
and  had  seen  him. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  Where  is  he  ?  "  I  asked, 
and  followed  her  hastily  to  the  room. 

The  queen  and  Rudolf  were  standing 
side  by  side.  What  I  have  told  from 
Helga's  description  had  just  passed  be- 
tween them.     Rudolf  ran  to  meet  me. 


"  Is  all  well  ?  "  he  asked  eagerly. 

I  forgot  the  queen's  presence  and  paid 
no  sign  of  respect  to  her.  I  caught  Ru- 
dolf by  the  arm  and  cried  to  him:  "  Do 
they  take  you  for  the  king  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "Heavens,  man, 
don't  look  so  white!  We  shall  manage  it. 
I  can  be  gone  by  to-night." 

"Gone?  How  will  that  help,  since 
they  believe  you  to  be  the  king  ?  " 

"You  can  keep  it  from  the  king,"  he 
urged.  "  I  couldn't  help  it.  I  can  settle 
with  Rupert  and  disappear." 

The  three  were  standing  round  me, 
surprised  at  my  great  and  terrible  agita- 
tion. Looking  back  now,  I  wonder  that 
I  could  speak  to  them  at  all. 

Rudolf  tried  again  to  reassure  me.  He 
little  knew  the  cause  of  what  he  saw. 

"  It  won't  take  long  to  settle  affairs  with 
Rupert,  "said  he.  * '  And  we  must  have  the 
letter,  or  it  will  get  to  the  king  after  all." 

"The  king  will  never  see  the  letter," 
I  blurted  out,  as  I  sank  back  in  a  chair. 

They  said  nothing.  I  looked  round  on 
their  faces.  I  had  a  strange  feeling  of 
helplessness,  and  seemed  to  be  able  to  do 
nothing  but  throw  the  truth  at  them  in 
blunt  plainness.  Let  them  make  what 
they  could  of  it,  I  could  make  nothing. 

"  The  king  will  never  see  the  letter,"  I 
repeated.  "  Rupert  himself  has  insured 
that." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  You've  not  met 
Rupert  ?    You've  not  got  the  letter  ?  " 

"  No,  no;  but  the  king  can  never  read 
it." 

Then  Rudolf  seized  me  by  the  shoulder 
and  fairly  shook  me;  indeed  I  must  have 
seemed  like  a  man  in  a  dream  or  a  torpor. 

"  Why  not,  man ;  why  not  ?  "  he  asked  in 
urgent  low  tones. 

Again  I  looked  at  them,  but  somehow 
this  time  my  eyes  were  attracted  and  held 
by  the  queen's  face.  I  believe  that  she 
was  the  first  to  catch  a  hint  of  the  tidings 
I  brought.  Her  lips  were  parted,  and  her 
gaze  eagerly  strained  upon  me.  I  rubbed 
my  hand  across  my  forehead,  and,  looking 
up  stupidly  at  her,  I  said: 

"  He  never  can  see  the  letter.  He's 
dead." 

There  was  a  little  scream  from  Helga; 
Rudolf  neither  spoke  nor  moved;  the 
queen  continued  to  gaze  at  me  in  motion- 
less wonder  and  horror. 

"Rupert  killed  him,"  said  I.  "The 
boar-hound  attacked  Rupert;  then  Herbert 
and  the  king  attacked  him;  and  he  killed 
them  all.  Yes,  the  king  is  dead.  He's 
dead." 

Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


556 


RUPERT  OF  HENTZAU. 


Now  none  spoke.  The  queen's  eyes 
never  left  my  face. 

11  Yes,  he's  dead!  "  said  I;  and  I  watched 
her  eyes  still.  For  a  long  while  (or  long 
it  seemed)  they  were  on  my  face;  at  last, 
as  though  drawn  by  some  irresistible  force, 
they  turned  away.  I  followed  the  new 
line  they  took.  She  looked  at  Rudolf 
Rassendyll,  and  he  at  her.  Helga  had 
taken  out  her  handkerchief,  and,  utterly 
upset  by  the  horror  and  shock,  was  lying 
back  in  a  low  chair,  sobbing  half-hyster- 
ically;  I  saw  the  swift  look  that  passed 
from  the  queen  to  her  lover,  carrying  in  it 
grief,  remorse,  and  most  unwilling  joy. 
He  did  not  speak  to  her,  but  put  out  his 
hand  and  took  hers.  She  drew  it  away 
almost  sharply,  and  covered  her  face  with 
both  hands.     Rudolf  turned  to  me. 

44  When  was  it?" 

44  Last  night." 

44  And  the  .  .  .     He's  at  the  lodge  ?  " 

44  Yes,  with  Sapt  and  James." 

I  was  recovering  my  senses  and  my 
coolness. 

44  Nobody  knows  yet,"  I  said.  "We 
were  afraid  you  might  be  taken  for  him 
by  somebody.  But,  my  God,  Rudolf, 
what's  to  be  done  now  ? " 

Mr.  Rassendyll's  lips  were  set  firm  and 
tight.  He  frowned  slightly,  and  his  blue 
eyes  wore  a  curious  entranced  expression. 
He  seemed  to  me  to  be  forgetful  of  every- 
thing, even  of  us  who  were  with  him,  in 
some  one  idea  that  possessed  him.  The 
queen  herself  came  nearer  to  him  and 
lightly  touched  his  arm  with  her  hand. 
He  started  as  though  surprised,  then  fell 
again  into  his  reverie. 

44  What's  to  be  done,  Rudolf  ?  "  I  asked 
again. 

44  I'm  going  to  kill  Rupert  of  Hentzau," 
he  said.  "The  rest  we'll  talk  of  after- 
wards." 

He  walked  rapidly  across  the  room  and 
rang  the  bell. 

44  Clear  those  people  away,"  he  ordered. 
44  Tell  them  that  I  want  to  be  quiet. 
Then  send  a  closed  carriage  round  for 
me.     Don't  be  more  than  ten  minutes." 

The  servant  received  his  peremptory 
orders  with  a  low  bow,  and  left  us.      The 


queen,  who  had  been  all  this  time  outwardly 
calm  and  composed,  now  fell  into  a  great 
agitation,  which  even  the  consciousness  of 
our  presence  could  not  enable  her  to  hide. 

44  Rudolf,  must  you  go?  Since — since 
this  has  happened " 

44  Hush,  my  dearest  lady,"  he  whispered. 
Then  he  went  on  more  loudly,  "  I  won't 
quit  Ruritania  a  second  time  leaving  Ru- 
pert of  Hentzau  alive.  Fritz,  send  word 
to  Sapt  that  the  king  is  in  Strelsau — he 
will  understand — and  that  instructions 
from  the  king  will  follow  by  midday. 
When  I  have  killed  Rupert,  I  shall  visit 
the  lodge  on  my  way  to  the  frontier." 

He  turned  to  go,  but  the  queen,  fol- 
lowing, detained  him  for  a  minute. 

44  You'll  come  and  see  me  before  you 
go  ?"  she  pleaded. 

44  But  I  ought  not,"  said  he,  his  reso- 
lute eyes  suddenly  softening  in  a  mar- 
vellous fashion. 

44  You  will?" 

44  Yes,  my  queen." 

Then  I  sprang  up,  for  a  sudden  dread 
laid  hold  on  me. 

44  Heavens,  man,"  I  cried,  "  what  if  he 
kills  you — there  in  the  Kfcnigstrasse  ? " 

Rudolf  turned  to  me;  there  was  a  look 
of  surprise  on  his  face. 

44  He  won't  kill  me,"  he  answered. 

The  queen,  looking  still  in  Rudolf's 
face,  and  forgetful  now,  as  it  seemed,  of 
the  dream  that  had  so  terrified  her,  took 
no  notice  of  what  I  said,  but  urged  again: 
44  You'll  come,  Rudolf?" 

44  Yes,  once,  my  queen,"  and  with  a 
last  kiss  of  her  hand  he  was  gone. 

The  queen  stood  for  yet  another  mo- 
ment where  she  was,  still  and  almost 
rigid.  Then  suddenly  she  walked  or  stum- 
bled to  where  my  wife  sat,  and,  flinging 
herself  on  her  knees,  hid  her  face  in  Hel- 
ga's  lap;  I  heard  her  sobs  break  out  fast 
and  tumuituously.  Helga  looked  up  at 
me,  the  tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks. 
I  turned  and  went  out.  Perhaps  Helga 
could  comfort  her;  I  prayed  that  God  in 
His  pity  might  send  her  comfort,  although 
she  for  her  sin's  sake  dared  not  ask  it  of 
Him.  Poor  soul!  I  hope  there  may  be 
nothing  worse  scored  to  my  account. 


(To  be  continued.} 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  NATION'S   RAILROADS. 


By  George  B.  Waldron. 


ENTIRE   LENGTH  OP  TRACKS 
IN  THE  UNITED  3TATE3  . 


WHEN  George  Stephenson  taught  the 
world  how  to  make  a  steam  engine 
propel  itself  along  parallel  rails,  he  opened 
a  new  chapter  in  industrial  development. 
But  no  doubt  even  his  sanguine  mind  did 
not  apprehend  that  some  then  living  would 
see  these  shining  bands  of  steel  binding 
whole  continents  as  one  people,  and  al- 
most the  entire  globe  in  one  commerical 
union. 

Seventy  years  ago  there  was  not  a  mile 
of  steam  railroad  in  the  United  States,  and 
even  a  half  century  ago  there  were  but 
6,000  miles.  Twenty 
years  later,  at  the 
close  of  the  Rebel- 
lion, the  mileage 
was  only  40,000; 
but  it  jumped  to 
80,000  in  1878,  and 
to  150,000  a  decade 
later.    To-day  440,- 

000  miles  of  railroad  

interlace  the  earth's 

surface,     of    which 

185,000  miles  are  in 

our  own  country.     Add  the  second,  third, 

and  fourth  tracks,  the  terminals  and  the 

sidings,  and  the  aggregate  in  the  United 

States  reaches  245,000  miles,  or  enough 

to     complete    one 

gigantic  span  from 

the    earth    to    the 

moon. 

Were  this  road- 
way equally  dis- 
tributed over  the 
nation's  territory, 
there  would  not  be 
a  spot  on  the  entire 
3,000,000  square 
miles  more  than 
eight  miles  distant 
from  some  road. 
This  mileage,  how- 
ever, is  far  from 
equally  distributed. 
While  for  each  hun- 
dred square  miles 
of  territory  in  New 


NOON 


/ 


P 


jlbrob^-wj 

i.   :  : 

nMSENGER  AND  HACGAC*  CASS 


of  railroad,  the  vast  western  empires  of 
Idaho,  Nevada,  Wyoming,  Arizona,  New 
Mexico,  and  Oklahoma  have  barely  one 
mile  for  each  hundred  square  miles  of 
area.  Those  States  lying  north  of  the 
Ohio  and  the  Poto- 
mac, and  east  of  the 
Missouri,  compris- 
ing more  than  half 
the  nation's  popula- 
tion, but  less  than  a 
S  fourth  of  the  terri- 

tory, have  fully  half 
of  the  mileage. 
The  ownership  of 
this  choice  treasure  is  distributed 
among  about  800  independent 
companies,  whose  roads  range  in 
length  from  a  few  hundred  feet  to 
above  6,000  miles.  A  bare  dozen 
of  the  companies  control  a  quar- 
ter, and  a  score  own  a  third,  of 
the  entire  mileage. 

For  the  equipment  of  the  roads 
37,000  locomotives  are  required, 
of  which   10,000  are    passenger, 
21,000   freight  engines,  and   the  rest  for 
yard  and  switching  service.     These  draw 
35,000   passenger  and   baggage  cars  and 
1,250,000  freight  cars.     Were  all  the  road 
engines  in    use   at 
one      time,     there 
would  be  an  aver- 
age of  one  train  on 
every  six  miles  of 
road    the    country 
over.      End  to  end 
with  all  the  cars  at- 
tached, they  would 
make     one     solid 
train     over    9,000 
miles   long,  or  nearly  three  times 
the  distance  from  New  York  to  San 
Francisco. 

Eight  hundred  million  miles  is 
the  aggregate  distance  made  by 
these  trains  in  the  year,  a  figure 
beyond  human  conception.  This 
mileage  represents  nine  trips  from 
the  earth  to  the  sun,  and  over 
three  thousand  to  the  moon.  It  means 
an    average  of    2,250,000    miles   a    day, 


Jersey,  Massachusetts,  Ohio,   Pennsylva- 
nia, Connecticut,  Rhode  Island,  and  Illi- 
nois there  is  from  twenty  to  thirty  miles   nearly  100,000  each  hour,  and  a  train  gird- 
Digitized  by  Vj©OQLC 


55« 


THE  NATION'S  RAILROADS. 


ing  the  earth  at  the 
equator  every  fifteen 
minutes. 

But  each  of  the 
passenger  trains  on 
the  average  carries 
forty  passengers, 
making  the  aggregate 
distance  traveled  by 
individuals  fourteen 
thousand  million 
miles.  This  repre- 
sents 4,000,000  trips 
from  ocean  to  ocean, 
and  nearly  600,000  journeys  around  the 
world;  or  one  every  minute  of  the  day  and 
night  during  the  year.  At  the  average 
rapidity  of  travel  the  total  time  spent  on 
trains  during  a  single  year  by  the  Ameri- 
can people  aggregates  80,000  years. 

Equally  strik- 
ing are  the  facts 
as  to  the  move- 
ment of  freight. 
Not  less  than 
800,000,000 
tons  are  trans- 
ported an  aver- 
age  of  125 
miles,  making  a 
total,  during 
the  year,  of  one 
hundred  thou- 
sand million  ton 
miles.  Load 
this  freight  into  one  solid  train,  and.it 
would  fill  40,000,000  cars,  which  would 
cover  every  mile  of  track  in  the  country. 


three  station  agents  may  sell  a  passenger 
tickets,  half  a  dozen  gatemen  and  porters 
aid  him  in  getting  aboard  his  trains.  Four 
or  five  conductors  and  as  many  more  train- 
men may  minister  to  his  comforts  on  the 
journey.  He  may  catch  sight  of  the  en- 
gineer and  firemen,  oil-stained  and  grimy, 
in  their  cab.  But  for  the  score  of  railroad 
men  he  sees  on  the  way,  there  are  10,000 
whom  he  may  never  see.  To  operate  a 
thousand  miles  of  road  in  the  Eastern 
States  requires  over  900  engineers  and 
firemen,  1,400  conductors  and  trainmen, 
1,300  station  men,  600  switchmen  and 
flagmen,  1,900  trackmen,  2,200  in  the  re- 
pair shops,  and  400  officials  and  clerks  in 
the  central  offices.  Of  the  hundreds  of 
thousands  employed  on  the  railroads  in 
this  country,  not  one  in  four  is  actually  in 
train  service. 

Consider  the  financial  side  of  the   na- 
tion's roads.     In  building  and  equipping 
the  185,000  miles,  there  have  been  issued 
five  and  a  half  billions  of  stock,  and  an 
Store  the  goods  in  dwelling  houses,  and  equal  amount  of  bonds.     Add  another  bil- 


AGGRRGATB  YEARLY  DISTANCE 
MADE  BY  TRAINS  .MEANS,  A  TRAIN 
GIRDING  THE  EARTH  AT  THE 
EQUATOR  EVERY  J9  MINUTES. 


those  transported  during  one 
Presidential  term  would 
crowd  from  cellar  to  garret 
every  dwelling  in  the  United 
States. 

To  move  this  enormous 
freightage  there  is  needed 
an  army  of  some  850,000 
employees.  One  in  twenty- 
eight  of  the  working  popula- 
tion of  the  nation  is  em- 
ployed in  railroad  service. 
Their  earnings  aggregate 
nearly  a  half  billion  dollars. 
With  their  families  and  those 
of  workers  in  the  allied  in- 
dustries furnishing  needed 
supplies  of  all  kinds,  prob- 
ably  5,000,000  people  draw  their  support 
from  the  railroads. 

In  making  a  trip  of  1,000  miles  across 
the  country  on  main  trunk  lines,  two  or 


lion  for  floating  debt,  and  the 
total  securities  aggregate 
twelve  thousand  millions,  or 
about  one-sixth  of  the  entire 
wealth  of  the  nation.  Dis- 
tribute these  securities  equal- 
ly among  the  people,  and  to 
each  family  would  fall  about 
$900.  Turn  this  wealth  into 
gold,  and  20,000  teams  would 
be  needed  to  carry  away  the 
precious  metal.  But  the  en- 
tire gold  stock  of  the  world 
is  not  large  enough  to  pur- 
chase more  than  a  third  of 
the  roads  of  this  one  nation. 
From  the  operations  of 
these  thoroughfares  the  gross 
annual  revenues  reach  $1,200,000,000, 
about  one-fourth  of  which  comes  from  pas- 
senger traffic.  This  is  more  than  ten  times 
the  entire  annual  product  of  the  gold  and 


ONE  IK  EVERY- TWENTY-EIGHT 

WORKING  WEN  IS  EMPLOYED 

IN  THE  RAILROAD  SERVICE. 


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THE  NATION'S  RAILROADS. 


559 


THERE  ARfcTftOUSANDS  HE  NEVER  SEES. MANY  OF  WHOM  COOPERATE  TO  MAKE  HIS     - 

JOURNEY^SAFEAND  COMFORTABLE. 


£■$130000,000. 


silver  mines  of  the  country.  Add  the  iron, 
copper,  lead,  and  other  minerals,  and  the 
sum  is  still  but  a  fourth  of  the  receipts  of 
the  railroads.  Include  the  millions  of  tons 
of  coal,  the  building  stone,  petroleum,  gas, 
and    every    other  ' 

product  extracted 
from  the  earth,  and 
the  aggregate  falls 
short  by  half.  Now 
add  the  values  to  the 
farmers  of  all  the 
wheat,  rye,  oats,  bar- 
ley, potatoes,  and  to- 
bacco produced  by 
the  entire  nation, 
and  the  sum  would 
still  fail  to  equal  the 
tolls  collected  by  the 
railroads  each  year. 

Of  this  immense   sum,  seven  hundred 
millions  goes  for  wages,  supplies,  repairs, 
and  other  necessary  running  expenses,  leav- 
ing a  round  half  billion  to  be  applied  on 
capital.      So   enormous,   however,   is   the 
investment,  that,  save  in   a  few   favored 
instances,  the  returns  are  ex- 
ceedingly meagre.     Some 
$350,000,000  is  absorbed  in  in- 
terest on  the  bonds,  yet  nearly 
$1,000,000,000  of  these  secu- 
rities receives  no  return  for  its 
use.    Dividends  on  stock  reach 
$90,000,000.      But   about 
$4,000,000,000  of  the   stock, 
or  seventy   dollars    in   every 
hundred,  is  passed  by  in  the 
distribution.      Little   wonder, 
therefore,  that  during  the  last 
twenty  years  more   than  500 
companies  have  failed  to  meet 
their    obligations    and     have 
gone  into  the  hands  of  receiv- 


bonds  aggregated  five  and  a  half  billions, 
which  is  about  one-half  the  entire  issue  of 
railroad  securities.  Of  this  no  less  than 
29,000  miles,  representing  one  and  three 
quarters  billions  of  values,  went  under  dur- 
ing the  single  panic 
year  of  1893.  How 
much  of  this  wealth 
has  been  lost  in  the 
wreckage  or  wiped 
out  through  the  vari- 
ous schemes  of  reor- 
ganization is  best 
known  to  the  unfor- 
tunate holders.  Cer- 
tain it  is  that  these 
losses  in  the  aggre- 
gate must  reach  hun- 
dreds of  millions. 
An  interesting  fea- 
travel  is  the  element  of 
With  myriads  of  oppor- 


ENTIRE  ANNUAL  PRODUCT  OP  COLO  AND  SILVER.  MINES 
COMPARED  TO  GROSS  ANNUAL.  REVENUES  OP  RAILROADS. 


ture  of  railroad 
personal  safety. 

tunities  for  men  to  blunder  and  for  steel  to 
fail,  the  wonder  is  that  accidents  are  so 
few.  Each  of  the  2,000  passenger  trains 
moving  night  and  day  has  from  forty  to  a 
hundred  or  more  wheels,  while 
the  wheels  on  one  of  the  4,000 
constantly  moving  freight 
trains  may  number  500.  These 
wheels  strike  300,000,000,000 
rails  during  the  twelve  months. 
Yet  scarcely  fifty  wheels  and 
a  hundred  rails  give  way  so  far 
as  to  cause  a  recorded  train 
accident  in  the  course  of  the 
year.  On  the  average  a  per- 
son would  travel  4,500,000 
miles  before  being  injured, 
and  72,000,000  miles  before 
being  killed.  Traveling  night 
and  day  year  after  year  the 
passenger  would  sustain  his 
ers.  The  combined  length  of  these  bank-  first  injury  at  the  end  of  twenty-five  years, 
rupt  roads  is  100,000  miles,  or  more  than  and  meet  his  death  by  train  accident  at 
half  the  present  mileage.    Their  stocks  and   the  end  of  four  centuries. 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


OF  THE  RAILROADS  WERE.  DIS 

TRIBUTED«AMONO  THE  PEOPLE 

BACH  FAMILY  WOULD  GET  AEOVT 

$SOO 


560 


THE  NATION'S  RAILROADS. 


Comparatively 
safe  as  is  the 
traveler,  no  such 
assurance  be- 
longs to  the  man 
who  holds  his 
life  in  custody. 
The  railroads  of 
the  country,  on 
the  average,  kill 
four     employees 

a  day,  and  crip-        ___ 

pie  and  maim  ™~  w 
eighty-two.  Of 
the  men  direct- 
ly concerned 
with  the  moving 
trains,  one  in 
every  ten  is  in- 
jured during  the 
year,  and  one  in  each  150  meets  his  death. 

Next  to  the  general  officers  the  engineer 
receives  the  highest  pay;  but  unless  he  has 
nerves  of  steel  his  life  can  scarcely  be  a 
happy  one.  Besides  the  scores  of  passen- 
gers whose  safety  may  depend  upon  the 
quickness  of  his  eye  and  hand,  he  has  un- 
der his  charge  a  train  whose  value  may 
easily  be  $100,000 — more  than  he  could 
earn  in  a  lifetime.  A  wrong  reading  of  a 
signal,  a  mistake  in  an  order,  and  two  of 
these  palatial  trains  may  crash  together, 
involving  the  company  in  an  instant  in  per- 
haps $500,000  of  damages.  For  besides 
the  valuable  rolling  stock,  there  are  the 
passengers,  whose  injuries  have  a  commer- 
cial value  in  a  court  of  law. 

The  service  performed  by  these  high- 
ways in  moving  goods  is  difficult  to  appre- 
ciate. The  work  done  in  a  single  year  is 
equal  to  the  transporting  of  one  ton  of 
freight  100,000,000,000  miles,  or  from 
ocean  to  ocean  every  second  of  the  twenty- 
four  hours.  To  accomplish  this  in  the  old 
way,  by  wagons,  would  require  twice  as 
many  horses  as   are   to-day  in  the  entire 


.-•  -.  ..  country,  and  at 

a  cost  equal  to 
twice  the  present 
annual  wealth 
production  of 
the  nation.  With 
the   aid   of   the 
railroads    one 
man's  daily  work 
on    the  average 
transports  a  ton 
of    goods   500 
miles.      A  man 
with  two  horses 
probably    could 
not    accomplish 
the  same  result 
in  a  month.    On 
tracks   as    level 
and    smooth    as 
those  provided  by  the  leading  trunk  lines, 
one  two-inch  cube  of  coal  weighing  a  pounc 
will  furnish  power  sufficient  to  move  a  tor 
of  goods  with  its  share  of  the  train  twc 
miles  along  its  journey. 

A  half  century  ago  the  canvas-top  wagoi 
was  the  pioneer  of  American  civilization 
But  just  in  the  nick  of  time  came  the  rail 
roads.  These  have  built  up  the  broa 
empire  of  the  West  until  our  nation  stand 
first  in  wealth,  first  in  industrial  progress 
and  is  rapidly  taking  the  lead  in  th 
commerce  of  the  world.  Not  yet  ha\ 
these  thoroughfares  approached  thenatur; 
limit  of  their  development.  When  W 
States  of  the  South  and  West  shall  hai 
become  as  well  supplied  as  those  of  tl 
northeast,  the  mileage  will  increase  thre 
fold,  and  the  business  swell  to  some  sev< 
or  more  times  its  present  proportion 
That  time  can  come  only  when,  develop 
by  these  same  railroads,  the  nation  w 
have  a  population  numbered  by  the  hu 
dreds  of  millions,  and  when  Denver  a 
San  Francisco  rival  in  size  the  Chica 
and  New  York  of  to-day. 


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REMINISCENCES    OF    MEN    AND    EVENTS    OF    THE 

CIVIL  WAR. 

By  Charles  A.  Dana, 

Assistant  Secretary  of  War  from  1863  to  1865. 

ILLUSTRATED   WITH    PORTRAITS   FROM   THE  WAR   DEPARTMENT   COLLECTION   OF   CIVIL 

WAR   PHOTOGRAPHS. 

VI. 
MR.    LINCOLN    AND    HIS    CABINET. 


DURING  the  first  winter  I  spent  in 
Washington  in  the  War  Department, 
1863-64,  I  had  constant  opportunities  of 
seeing  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  of  conversing  with 
him  in  the  cordial  and  unofficial  manner 
which  he  always  preferred.  Not  that  there 
was  ever  any  lack  of  dignity  in  the  man. 
Even  in  his  freest  moments  one  always 
felt  the  presence  of  a  will  and  of  an  in- 
tellectual power  which  maintained  the  as- 
cendancy of  his  position.  He  never  posed 
or  put  on  airs  or  attempted  to  make  any 
particular  impression ;  but  he  was  always 
conscious  of  his  own  ideas  and  purposes, 
even  in  his  most  unreserved  moments. 

I  knew,  too,  and  saw  frequently,  all  the 
members  of  his  cabinet.  When  Mr.  Lin- 
coln was  inaugurated  as  President,  his  first 
act  was  to  name  his  cabinet;  and  it  was  a 
common  remark  at  the  time  that  he  had 
put  into  it  every  man  who  had  competed 
with  him  for  the  nomination.  The  first  in 
importance  was  William  H.  Seward,  of 
New  York,  Mr.  Lincoln's  most  prominent 
competitor.  Mr.  Seward  was  made  Sec- 
retary of  State.  He  was  an  interesting 
man,  of  an  optimistic  temperament,  and 
he  probably  had  the  most  cultivated  and 
comprehensive  intellect  in  the  administra- 
tion. He  was  a  man  who  was  all  his  life 
in  controversies,  yet  he  was  singular  in 
this,  that,  though  forever  in  fights,  he  had 
almost  no  personal  enemies.  Seward  had 
great  ability  as  a  writer,  and  he  had  what 
is  very  rare  in  a  lawyer,  a  politician,  or  a 
statesman — imagination.  A  fine  illustra- 
tion of  his  genius  was  the  acquisition  of 
Alaska.  That  was  one  of  the  last  things 
that  he  did  before  he  went  out  of  office, 
and  it  demonstrated  more  than  anything 
else  his  fixed    and    never-changing    idea 


that  all  North  America  should  be  united 
under  one  government. 

Mr.  Seward  was  an  admirable  writer 
and  an  impressive,  though  entirely  unpre- 
tentious, speaker.  He  stood  up  and 
talked  as  though  he  were  engaged  in  con- 
versation, and  the  effect  was  always  great. 
It  gave  the  impression  of  a  man  deliber- 
ating '*  out  loud  "  with  himself. 

The  second  man  in  importance  and 
ability  to  be  put  into  the  cabinet  was  Mr. 
Chase  of  Ohio.  He  was  an  able,  noble, 
spotless  statesman,  a  man  who  would  have 
been  worthy  of  the  best  days  of  the  old 
Roman  republic.  He  had  been  a  candi- 
date for  the  Presidency,  though  a  less 
conspicuous  one  than  Seward.  Mr.  Chase 
was  a  portly  man — tall,  and  of  an  impres- 
sive appearance,  with  a  very  handsome, 
large  head.  He  was  genial,  though  very 
decided,  and  he  occasionally  would  criti- 
cize the  President,  a  thing  I  never  heard 
Mr.  Seward  do.  Chase  had  been  success- 
ful in  Ohio  politics,  and  in  the  Treasury 
Department  his  administration  was  satis- 
factory to  the  public.  He  was  the  author 
of  the  national  banking  law.  I  remem- 
ber going  to  dine  with  him  one  day — I  did 
that  pretty  often,  as  I  had  known  him 
well  when  I  was  on  the  "  Tribune" — and 
he  said  to  me  .  "I  have  completed  to-day 
a  very  great  thing.  I  have  finished  the 
National  Bank  act.  It  will  be  a  blessing 
to  the  country  long  after  I  am  dead." 

The  Secretary  of  the  Navy  throughout 
the  war  was  Gideon  Welles,  of  Connecti- 
cut. Welles  was  a  curious-looking  man: 
he  wore  a  wig  which  was  parted  in  the 
middle,  the  hair  falling  down  on  each  side; 
and  it  was  from  his  peculiar  appearance,  I 
have  always  thought,  that  the  idea  that 

Digitized  by  ©OOgk 


562 


MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF  THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


he  was  an  old  fogy  originated.  I  remem- 
ber Governor  Andrew  of  Massachusetts 
coming  into  my  office  at  the  War  Depart- 
ment one  day  and  asking  where  he  could 
find  that  *'  old  Mormon  deacon,  the  Sec- 
retary of  the  Navy."  In  spite  of  his 
peculiarities,  I  think  Mr.  Welles  was  a 
very  wise,  strong  man.  There  was  nothing 
decorative  about  him;  there  was  no  noise 
in  the  street  when  he  went  along;  but  he 
understood  his  duty,  and  did  it  efficiently, 
continually,  and  unvaryingly.  There  was 
a  good  deal  of  opposition  to  him,  for  we 
had  no  navy  when  the  war  began,  and  he 
had  to  create  one  without  much  delibera- 
tion; but  be  was  patient,  laborious,  and 
intelligent  at  his  task. 

Montgomery  Blair  was  Postmaster-Gen- 
eral in  Mr.  Lincoln's  cabinet.  He  was  a 
capable  man,  sharp,  keen,  perhaps  a  little 
cranky,  and  not  friendly  with  everybody; 
but  I  always  found  him  pleasant  to  deal 
with,  and  I  saw  a  great  deal  of  him.  He 
and  Mr.  Stanton  were  not  very  good 
friends,  and  when  he  wanted  anything  in 
the  War  Department  he  was  more  likely  to 
come  to  an  old  friend  like  me  than  to  go 
to  the  Secretary.  Stanton,  too,  rather 
preferred  that. 

The  first  Attorney-General  of  the  cabi- 
net was  Edward  Bates  of  Missouri.  Bates 
had  been  Mr.  Greeley's  favorite  candi- 
date for  the  Presidency.  He  was  put  into 
the  cabinet  partly,  I  suppose,  because  his 
reputation  was  good  as  a  lawyer,  but  prin- 
cipally because  he  had  been  advocated  for 
President  by  such  powerful  influences. 
Bates  must  have  been  about  sixty-eight 
years  old  when  he  was  appointed  Attorney- 
General.  He  was  a  very  eloquent  speaker. 
Give  him  a  patriotic  subject,  where  his 
feelings  could  expand,  and  he  would  make 
a  beautiful  speech.  He  was  a  man  of  very 
gentle,  cordial  nature,  but  not  one  of  ex- 
traordinary brilliancy. 

The  relations  between  Mr.  Lincoln  and 
the  members  of  his  cabinet  were  always 
friendly  and  sincere  on  his  part.  He 
treated  every  one  of  them  with  unvarying 
candor,  respect,  and  kindness;  but,  though 
several  of  them  were  men  of  extraordinary 
force  and  self-assertion — this  was  true 
especially  of  Mr.  Seward,  Mr.  Chase,  and 
Mr.  Stan.on — and  though  there  was 
nothing  of  selfhood  or  domination  in  his 
manner  toward  them,  it  was  always  plain 
that  he  was  the  master  and  they  the  sub- 
ordinates. They  constantly  had  to  yield 
to  his  will  in  questions  where  responsibility 
fell  upon  him.  If  he  ever  yielded  to 
theirs,  it  was  because  they  convinced  him 


that  the  course  they  advised  was  judicious 
and  appropriate.  I  fancied  during  the 
whole  time  of  my  intimate  intercourse 
with  him  and  with  them  that  he  was  al- 
ways prepared  to  receive  the  resignation 
of  any  one  of  them.  At  the  same  time  I 
do  not  recollect  a  single  occasion  when 
any  member  of  the  cabinet  had  got  his 
mind  ready  to  quit  his  post  from  any  feel- 
ing of  dissatisfaction  with  the  policy  or 
conduct  of  the  President.  Not  that  they 
were  always  satisfied  with  his  actions;  the 
members  of  the  cabinet,  like  human  be- 
ings in  general,  were  not  pleased  with 
everything.  In  their  judgment  much  was 
imperfect,  in  the  administration;  much, 
they  felt,  would  have  been  done  better  if 
their  views  had  been  adopted  and  they  in- 
dividually had  had  charge  of  it.  Not  so 
with  the  President.  He  was  calm,  equa- 
ble, uncomplaining.  In  the  drscussion  of 
important  questions,  whatever  he  said 
showed  the  profoundest  thought,  even 
when  he  was  joking.  He  seemed  to  see 
every  side  of  every  question.  He  never 
was  impatient,  he  never  was  in  a  hurry, 
and  he  never  tried  to  hurry  anybody  else. 
To  every  one  he  was  pleasant  and  cor- 
dial. Yet  they  all  felt  that  it  was  his  word 
that  went  at  last;  that  every  case  was 
open  until  he  gave  his  decision. 

Lincoln's  personal  appearance. 

This  impression  of  authority,  of  reserve 
force,  Mr.  Lincoln  always  gave  to  those 
about  him.  Even  physically  he  was  im- 
pressive. According  to  the  record  meas- 
urements, he  was  six  feet  four  inches  in 
height.  That  is,  he  was  at  least  four 
inches  taller  than  the  ordinary  man.  When 
he  rode  out  on  horseback  to  review  an 
army,  as  I  have  frequently  seen  him  do,  he 
wore  usually  a  high  hat,  and  then  he  looked 
like  a  giant.  There  was  no  waste  or  ex- 
cess of  material  about  his  frame;  never- 
theless, he  was  very  strong  and  muscular. 
I  remember  that  the  last  time  I  went  to 
see  him  at  the  White  House — the  after- 
noon before  he  was  killed — I  found  him  in 
a  side  room  with  coat  off  and  sleeves 
rolled  up,  washing  his  hands.  He  had 
finished  his  work  for  the  day,  and  was 
going  away.  I  noticed  then  the  thinness 
of  his  arms,  and  how  well  developed, 
strong,  and  active  his  muscles  seemed  to 
be.  In  fact,  there  was  nothing  flabby  or 
feeble  about  Mr.  Lincoln  physically.  He 
was  a  very  quick  man  in  his  movements 
when  he  chose  to  be,  and  he  had  immense 
physical    endurance.       Night   after   night 


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WILLIAM   H.   SEWARD,   SECRETARY   OF   STATE    IN    LINCOLN'S   CABINET.      BORN,  l8oi  \  DIED,  1872. 


he  would  work  late  and  hard  without  be- 
ing wilted  by  it,  and  he  always  seemed  as 
ready  for  the  next  day's  work  as  though 
he  had  done  nothing  the  day  before. 

Mr.  Lincoln's  face  was  thin,  and  his 
features  were  large.  His  hair  was  black, 
his  eyebrows  heavy,  his  forehead  square 
and  well  developed.  His  complexion  was 
dark  and  quite  sallow.  His  smile  was 
something  most  lovely.    I  have  never  seen 


a  woman's  smile  that  approached  it  in  its 
engaging  quality;  nor  have  I  ever  seen 
another  face  which  would  light  up  as  Mr. 
Lincoln's  did  when  something  touched  his 
heart  or  amused  him.  I  have  heard  it 
said  that  he  was  ungainly,  that  his  step 
was  awkward.  He  never  impressed  me  as 
being  awkward.  In  the  first  place,  there 
was  such  a  charm  and  beauty  about  his 
expression,  such  good  humor  and  friendly 


Editor's  Note.— A  scries  of  important  portraits  of  Lincoln  will  be  found  in  McClure's  Magazine  for  February,  1898. 
A  portrait  of  Secretary  Stanton  appeared  with  the  first  of  Mr.  Dana's  papers,  in  the  number  for  November,  1897. 


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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 


spirit  looking  from  his  eyes,  that  when 
you  were  near  him  you  never  thought 
whether  he  was  awkward  or  graceful;  you 
thought  of  nothing  except,  What  a  kindly 
character  this  man  has!  Then,  too,  there 
was  such  shrewdness  in  his  kindly  features 
that  one  did  not  care  to  criticize  him.  His 
manner  was  always  dignified,  and  even 
if  he  had  done  an  awkward  thing  the 
dignity  of  his  character  and  manner  would 
have  made  it  seem  graceful  and  becom- 
ing. 

The  great  quality  of  his  appearance  was 
benevolence  and  benignity:  the  wish  to 
do  somebody  some  good  if  he  could;  and 
yet  there  was  no  flabby  philanthropy  about 
Abraham  Lincoln.  He  was  all  solid,  hard, 
keen  intelligence  combined  with  good- 
ness. Indeed,  the  expression  of  his  face 
and  of  his  bearing  which  impressed  one 
most,  after  his  benevolence  and  benignity, 
was  his  intelligent  understanding.  You 
felt  that  here  was  a  man  who  saw  through 
things,  who  understood,  and  you  re- 
spected him  accordingly. 

LINCOLN    AS    A    POLITICIAN. 

Lincoln  was  a  supreme  politician.  He 
understood  politics  because  he  understood 
human  nature.       I    had  an  illustration  of 

this  in  the  sprip^  <*v  .* **»_„[*.";.-   -  L.«^~  ^ 

tratlb.  ,-ti  decided  that  the  constitution 
of  the  United  States  should  be  amended 
so  that  slavery  should  be  prohibited.  This 
was  not  only  a  change  in  our  national 
policy,  it  was  also  a  most  important  mili- 
tary measure.  It  was  intended,  not  merely 
as  a  means  of  abolishing  slavery  forever, 
but  as  a  means  of  affecting  the  judgment 
and  the  feelings  and  the  anticipations  of 
those  in  rebellion.  It  was  believed  that 
such  an  amendment  to  the  constitution 
would  be  equivalent  to  new  armies  in  the 
field,  that  it  would  be  worth  1,000,000  men, 
that  it  would  be  an  intellectual  army  that 
would  tend  to  paralyze  the  enemy  and 
break  the  continuity  of  his  ideas. 

In  order  thus  to  amend  the  constitu- 
tion, it  was  necessary  first  to  have  the 
proposed  amendment  approved  by  three- 
fourths  of  the  States.  When  that  question 
came  to  be  considered,  the  issue  was  seen 
to  be  so  close  that  one  State  more  was 
necessary.  The  State  of  Nevada  was 
organized  and  admitted  into  the  Union  to 
answer  that  purpose.  I  have  sometimes 
heard  people  complain  of  Nevada  as  su- 
perfluous and  petty,  not  big  enough  to  be 
a  State;  but  when  I  hear  that  complaint, 
I  always  hear  Abraham   Lincoln  saying, 


"It  is  easier  to  admit  Nevada  than  to  raise 
another  million  of  soldiers." 

In  March,  1864,  the  question  of  allow- 
ing Nevada  to  form  a  State  government 
finally  came  up  in  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives. There  was  strong  opposition 
to  it.  For  a  long  time  beforehand  the 
question  had  been  canvassed  anxiously. 
At  last,  late  one  afternoon,  the  President 
came  into  my  office,  in  the  third  story  of 
the  War  Department.  He  used  to  come 
there  sometimes  rather  than  send  for  me, 
because  he  was  fond  of  walking  and  liked 
to  get  away  from  the  crowds  in  the  White 
House.     He  came  in,  and  shut  the  door. 

"  Dana,"  he  said,  "  I  am  very  anxious 
about  this  vote.  It  has  got  to  be  taken 
next  week.  The  time  is  very  short.  It 
is  going  to  be  a  great  deal  closer  than  I 
wish  it  was." 

"There  are  plenty  of  Democrats  who 
will  vote  for  it,"  I  replied.  "There  is 
James  E.  English  of  Connecticut;  I  think 
he  is  sure,  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes;  he  is  sure  on  the  merits  of 
the  question." 

"Then,"  said  I,  "  there's  'Sunset' 
Cox  of  Ohio.     How  is  he  ? " 

"  He  is  sure  and  fearless.  But  there 
are  some  others  that  I  am  not  clear  about. 
There  are  three  that  you  can  deal  with 
***~w*.i'than  anybody  else,  perhaps,  as  you 
know  them  all.  I  wish  you  would  send 
for  them." 

He  told  me  who  they  were;  it  isn't  nec- 
essary to  repeat  the  names  here.  One 
man  was  from  New  Jersey  and  two  from 
New  York. 

"  What  will  they  be  likely  to  want  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  President;  "  I 
don't  know.  It  makes  no  difference, 
though,  what  they  want.  Here  is  the  al- 
ternative: that  we  carry  this  vote,  or  be 
compelled  to  raise  another  million,  and  I 
don't  know  how  many  more,  men,  and  fight 
no  one  knows  how  long.  It  is  a  question 
of  three  votes  or  new  armies." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  I,  "what  shall  I  say 
to  these  gentlemen  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  said  he;  "but  what- 
ever promise  you  make  to  them  I  will  per- 
form." 

I  sent  for  the  men  and  saw  them  one  by 
one.  I  found  that  they  were  afraid  of 
their  party.  They  said  that  some  fellows 
in  the  party  would  be  down  on  them.  Two 
of  them  wanted  internal  revenue  collectors* 
appointments.  "You  shall  have  it,"  I 
said.  Another  one  wanted  a  very  impor- 
tant appointment  about  the  custom-house 


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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


565 


of  New  York.  I  knew  the  man  well 
whom  he  wanted  to  have  appointed.  He 
was  a  Republican,  though  the  Congress- 
man was  a  Democrat.  I  had  served  with 
him  in  the  Republican  county  committee 
of  New  York.     The  office  was  worth  per- 


allowed  to  form  a  State  government,  and 
thus  they  helped  secure  the  vote  which 
was  required.  The  next  October  the 
President  signed  the  proclamation  admit- 
ting the  State.  In  the  February  following, 
Nevada  was  one  of  the  States  which  rati- 
fied the  Thirteenth 
Amendment,  by 
which  slavery  was 
abolished  by  con- 
stitutional prohibi- 
tion in  all  of  the 
United  States.  I 
have  always  felt 
that  this  little  piece 
of  side  politics  was 
one  of  the  most 
judicious,  humane, 
and  wise  uses  of 
executive  authority 
that  I  ever  assisted 
in  or  witnessed. 

The  appointment 
in  the  New  York 
custom-house  was 
to  wait  until  the 
term  of  the  actual 
incumbent  had  run 
out.  My  friend, 
the  Democratic 
Congressman,  was 
quite  willing. 
44  That's  all  right," 
he  said;  "  I  am  in 
no  hurry."  Well, 
before  the  time  had 
expired,  Mr.  Lin- 
coln was  murdered 
and  Andrew  John- 
son became  Presi- 
dent. I  was  in  the 
West,  when  one 
day  I  got  a  tele- 
gram from  Roscoe 
Conkling: 

"  Come  to  Wash- 


AI.MON    P.    CHASE,    SECRETARY   OP  THE  TREASURY   IN    LINCOLN'S  CABINET.     BORN,    1808  \   DIED, 

1873. 


ington. 
went. 


So     I 


haps  $20,000  a  year.  When  the  Congress- 
man stated  the  case,  I  asked  him,  "  Do  you 
want  that  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  he. 

"Well,"  I  answered,  "you  shall  have 
it." 

"I  understand,  of  course,"  said  he, 
"that  you  are  not  saying  this  on  your 
own  authority  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  I;  "I  am  saying  it  on 
the  authority  of  the  President." 

Well,  these  men  voted  that  Nevada  be 


"  I  want  you  to 
go  and  see  President  Johnson,"  Mr.  Conk- 
ling said,  "  and  tell  him  that  the  appoint- 
ment of  this  man  to  the  custom-house  is 
a  sacred  promise  of  Mr.  Lincoln  and  that 
it  must  be  kept." 

Then  I  went  to  the  White  House,  and 
saw  President  Johnson. 

"This  is  Mr.  Lincoln's  promise,"  I 
urged.  "  He  regarded  it  as  saving  the 
necessity  of  another  call  for  troops  and 
raising,  perhaps,  a  millipn  more  men,  to 
continue  the  war.     I  trust,  Mr.  President, 


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566  MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR. 

pretended  agent  of  the  Con- 
federate authorities  in  Can- 
ada, saying: 

44 1  am  authorized  to  state  to  you, 
for  your  use  only,  not  the  public, 
that  two  ambassadors  of  Davis  & 
Co.  are  now  in  Canada  with  full 
and  complete  powers  for  a  peace, 
and  Mr.  Sanders  requests  that  you 
come  on  immediately  to  me  at 
Cataract  House  to  have  a  private 
interview  ;  or,  if  you  will  send  the 
President's  protection  for  him  and 
two  friends,  they  will  come  on  and 
meet  you.  He  says  the  whole  mat- 
ter can  be  consummated  by  me, 
them,  and  President  Lincoln." 

This  letter  was  followed 
the  next  day  by  a  telegram, 
saying:  "  Will  you  come 
here  ?  Parties  have  full 
power." 

Upon  receiving  this  letter 
Mr.  Greeley  wrote  to  Presi- 
dent Lincoln,  more  or  less 
in  the  strain  of  the  articles 
that  he  had  published  in 
the  "Tribune."  He  com- 
plained bitterly  of  the  way 
the  business  of  the  govern- 
ment was  managed  in  the 
great  crisis,  and  told  the 
President  that  now  there 
was  a  way  open  to  peace. 
He  explained  that  the  Con- 

El»VAKD    bATES,    ATT  OKNKY-C.KN  EK  AL    IN    LINCOLN'S   CABINET.       BORN,    1793  ;    DI^D,  federates     Wanted      a     COnfeT- 

l86*  ence,  and  he  told  Mr.  Lin- 
coln that    he   thought   that 

that  you  will  see  your  way  clear  to  exe-  he  ought  to  appoint  an  ambassador,  or  a 

cute  this  promise."  diplomatic   agent,    of   the    United  States 

"Well,  Mr.  Dana,"  he  replied,  "I  Government,  to  meet  the  Confederate 
don't  say  that  I  won't;  but  I  have  ob-  agents  at  Niagara  and  hear  what  they  had 
served  in  the  course  of  my  experience  that  to  say.  Mr.  Lincoln  immediately  re- 
such  bargains  tend  to  immorality."  sponded   by   asking    Mr.    Greeley   to    be 

The  appointment  was  not  made.      I  am  himself  that  representative  and  to  go  to 

happy  to  say,  however,  that  the  gentleman  Niagara  Falls. 

to    whom   the    promise   was   given    never  "  If  you  can  find  any  person  anywhere," 

found    any   fault    either    with    President  the  President  wrote,  "professing  to  have 

Lincoln  or  with  the  Assistant  Secretary  any   proposition    of    Jefferson    Davis,    in 

who  had  been  the  means  of  making  the  writing,  for  peace,  embracing  the  restora- 

promise  to  him.  tion  of  the  Union  and   abandonment  of 

One   of    the   cleverest   minor    political  slavery,  whatever  else  it  embraces,  say  to 

moves  which  Mr.  Lincoln  ever  made  was  him  he  may  come  to  me  with  you,  and 

an   appointment    he    once    gave   Horace  that  if  he  really  brings  such  proposition  he 

Greeley.     Mr.  Greeley  never  approved  of  shall  at  the  least  have  safe  conduct  with 

Mr.  Lincoln's  manner  of  conducting  the  the   paper  (and  without   publicity,  if    he 

Tvar,  and  he  sometimes  abused  the  Presi-  chooses)  to  the  point  where  you  shall  have 

<dent  roundly  for  his  deliberation.     As  the  met  him.     The  same,  if  there  be  two  or 

war  went  on,  Greeley  grew  more  and  more  more  persons." 

irritable,  because   the  administration  did  Mr.   Greeley  went  to  Niagara,  but  his 

not  make  peace  on  some  terms.      Finally,  mission  ended  in  nothing.    The  poor  man, 

in  July,  1864,  he  received  a  letter  from  a  led  astray  by  too  great  confidence,  failed 

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CHARLES  A.   DANA'S  REMINISCENCES. 


567 


in  his  undertaking  and  was 
almost  universally  laughed  at, 
I  saw  the  President  not  long 
after  that,  and  he  said,  with  a 
funny  twinkle  in  his  eye:  "  I 
sent  Brother  Greeley  a  com- 
mission. I  guess  I  am  about 
even  with  him  now." 


THE    CHARACTER   OF    ABRAHAM 
LINCOLN. 

Lincoln  had  the  most  com- 
prehensive, the  most  judicious 
mind;  he  was  the  least  faulty 
in  his  conclusions  of  any  man 
I  have  ever  known.  He  never 
stepped  too  soon,  and  he 
never  stepped  too  late.  When 
the  whole  Northern  country 
seemed  to  be  clamoring  for 
him  to  issue  a  proclamation 
abolishing  slavery,  he  didn't 
do  it.  Deputation  after  depu- 
tation went  to  Washington.  I 
remember  once  a  hundred  gen- 
tlemen, dressed  in  black  coats, 
mostly  clergymen,  from  Mas- 
sachusetts, came  to  Washing- 
ton to  appeal  to  him  to  pro- 
claim the  abolition  of  slavery. 
But    he   did    not   do    it.      He 

allowed  Mr.  Cameron  and  Gen-        gideon  welled,  secretary   of   the   navy   in   Lincoln's  cabinet,     bokn, 

1802  ;  DIED,  1878. 

came  it  did  its  work,  and  it  did  us  no  harm 
whatever.  Nobody  protested  against  it, 
not  even  the  Confederates  themselves. 

This  unerring  judgment,  this  patience 
which  waited  and  which  knew  when  the 
right  time  had  arrived,  is  an  intellectual 
quality  that  I  do  not  find  exercised  upon 
any  such  scale  and  with  such  unerring 
precision  by  any  other  man  in  history.  It 
proves  Abraham  Lincoln  to  have  been  in- 
tellectually one  of  the  greatest  of  rulers. 
If  we  look  through  the  record  of  great 
men,  where  is  there  one  to  be  placed  be- 
side him  ?     I  do  not  know. 

Another  interesting  fact  about  Abraham 
Lincoln  is  that  he  developed  into  a  great 
military  man;  that  is  to  say,  a  man  of  su- 
preme military  judgment.  I  do  not  risk 
anything  in  saying  that  if  one  will  study 
the  records  of  the  war  and  study  the  writ- 
ings relating  to  it,  he  will  agree  with  me 
that  the  greatest  general  we  had,  greater 
than  Grant  or  Thomas,  was  Abraham  Lin- 
coln. It  was  not  so  at  the  beginning;  but 
after  three  or  four  years  of  constant  prac- 
tice in  the  science  and  art  of  war,  he  ar- 


eral  Butler  to  execute  their 
great  idea  of  treating  slaves  as 
contraband  of  war  and  protecting  those 
who  had  got  into  our  lines  against  being 
recaptured  by  their  Southern  owners; 
but  he  would  not  prematurely  make  the 
proclamation  that  was  so  much  desired. 
Finally  the  time  came,  and  of  that  he 
was  the  judge.  Nobody  else  decided 
it;  nobody  commanded  it;  the  procla- 
mation was  issued  as  he  thought  best,  and 
it  was  efficacious.  The  people  of  the 
North,  who  during  the  long  contest  over 
slavery  had  always  stood  strenuously 
by  the  compromises  of  the  constitution, 
might  themselves  have  become  half  rebels 
if  this  proclamation  had  been  issued  too 
soon.  At  last  they  were  tired  of  waiting, 
tired  of  endeavoring  to  preserve  even  a 
show  of  regard  for  what  was  called  "  the 
compromises  of  the  constitution"  when 
they  believed  the  constitution  itself  was 
in  danger.  Thus  public  opinion  was  ripe 
when  the  proclamation  came,  and  that  was 
the  beginning  of  the  end.  He  could  have 
issued  this  proclamation  a  year  before, 
perhaps,  and  the  consequence  of  it  might 
have  been  our  entire  defeat;  but  when  it 


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MEN  AND  EVENTS  OF  THE  CIVIL    WAR 


MONTGOMERY     BLAIR. 


POSTMASTER-GENERAL     IN      LINCOLN  S 
DIED,    1883. 


rived  at  this  extraordinary  knowledge  of 
it,  so  that  Von  Moltke  was  not  a  better 
general,  or. an  abler  planner  or  expounder 
of  a  campaign,  than  was  President  Lin- 
coln. To  sum  it  up,  he  was  a  born  leader 
of  men.  He  knew  human  nature;  he 
knew  what  chord  to  strike,  and  was  never 
afraid  to  strike  it  when  he  believed  that 
the  time  had  arrived. 

Mr.  Lincoln  was  not  what  is  called  an 
educated  man.  In  the  college  that  he  at- 
tended a  man  gets  up  at  daylight  to  hoe 
corn,  and  sits  up  at  night  by  the  side  of  a 
burning  pine-knot  to  read  the  best  book 
he  can  find.  What  education  he  had,  he 
had  picked  up.  He  had  read  a  great 
many  books,  and  all  the  books  that  he  had 
read  he  knew.      He  had  a  tenacious  mem- 


ory, just  as  he  had  the 
ability  to  see  the  essential 
thing.  He  never  took  an 
unimportant  point  and 
went  off  upon  that;  but 
he  always  laid  hold  of 
the  real  question,  and  at- 
tended to  that,  giving  no 
more  thought  to  other 
points  than  was  indis- 
pensably necessary. 

Thus,  while  we  say  that 
Mr.  Lincoln  was  an  un- 
educated man  in  the  col- 
lege sense,  he  had  a  sin- 
gularly perfect  education 
in  regard  to  everything 
that  concerns  the  practical 
affairs  of  life.  His  judg- 
ment was  excellent,  and 
his  information  was  al- 
ways accurate.  He  knew 
what  the  thing  was.  He 
was  a  man  of  genius,  and 
contrasted  with  men  of 
education  the  man  of  gen- 
ius will  always  carry  the 
day.  Many  of  his  speeches 
illustrate  this. 

I   remember   very  well 
Mr.  Stanton's  comment  on 
the  Gettysburg   speeches 
of   Edward    Everett   and 
Mr.   Lincoln.      "  Edward 
Everett     has     made    a 
#  speech,"   he  said,    "that 
will  make  three  columns 
in    the    newspapers,    and 
Mr.    Lincoln  has  made  a 
speech  of  perhaps  forty  or 
cabinet,    horn,  1813 ;     fifty    lines.      Everett's   is 
the  speech  of   a  scholar, 
polished  to  the  last  possi- 
bility.    It  is  elegant,  and  it  is  learned;  but 
Lincoln's  speech  will  be  read  by  a  thou- 
sand men  where  one  reads  Everett's,  and 
will  be  remembered  as  long  as  anybody's 
speeches  are  remembered  who   speaks  in 
the  English  language." 

That  was  the  truth.  Who  ever  thinks 
of  or  reads  Everett's  Gettysburg  speech 
now?      If    one    will    compare   those   two 


speeches  he  will  get  an  idea  how  superior 
genius  is  to  education;  how  superior  that 
intellectual  faculty  is  which  sees  the  vital- 
ity of  a  question  and  knows  how  to  state 
it;  how  superior  that  intellectual  faculty 
is  which  regards  everything  with  the  fire 
of  earnestness  in  the  soul,  with  the  relent- 
less purpose  of  a  heart  devoted  to  objects 
beyond  literature. 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CHARLES  A.  DANA'S  REMINISCENCES.  569 

Another  remarkable 
peculiarity  of  Mr.  Lin- 
coln's was  that  he 
seemed  to  have  no  illu- 
sions. He  had  no  freak- 
ish notions  that  things 
were  so,  or  might  be  so, 
when  they  were  not  so. 
All  his  thinking  and  rea- 
soning, all  his  mind,  in 
short,  was  based  continu- 
ally upon  actual  facts, 
and  upon  facts  of  which, 
as  I  said,  he  saw  the  es- 
sence. I  never  heard  him 
say  anything  that  was  not 
so.  I  never  heard  him 
foretell  things;  he  told 
what  they  were,  but  I 
never  heard  him  intimate 
that  such  and  such  con- 
sequences were  likely  to 
happen  without  the  con- 
sequences following.  T 
should  say,  perhaps,  that 
his  greatest  quality  was 
wisdom.  And  that  is 
something  superior  to 
talent,  superior  to  educa- 
tion. It  is  again  genius; 
I  do  not  think  it  can  be 
acquired.  All  the  advice 
that  he  gave  was  wise, 
and  it  was  always  timely. 
This  wisdom,  it  is  scarce- 
ly necessary  to  add,  had 
its  animating  philosophy 
in  his  own  famous  words, 
"  With  charity  toward 
all,  with  malice  toward 
none." 

Another  remarkable 
quality   of    Mr.    Lincoln 

Was     his     great     merciful-       H-  w-  halleck,  general-in-chief  of  the  united  states  army  FROM  JULY  23,  1862, 

ness.     A  thing  it  seemed  TO  MARCH  ,3»  l86+-   UOR*'  l8is;  D,tD»  l872- 

as  if  he  could  not  do  was 

to  sign  a  death  warrant.    One  day  General  made  of  this  spy.     They  do  us  great  mis- 
Augur,  who  was  the  major-general   com-  chief ;  and  it  is  very  important  that  the  law 
manding  the  forces  in  and  around  Wash-  which    all    nations   recognize    in    dealing 
ington,  came  to  my  office  and  said:  with    spies,    and    the    punishment    which 
*'  Here  is  So-and-So,   a   spy.     He    has  every   nation   assigns   to  them,  should  be 
been  tried  by  court-martial;  the  facts  are  inflicted  upon  at  least  one  of  these  wretches 
perfectly    established;    he   has   been   sen-  who   haunt  us  around  Washington.      Do 
tenced  to  death,  and  here  is  the  warrant  you   know  whether  the  President  will  be 
for  his  execution,   which  is  fixed  for  to-  back  before  morning  ? " 
morrow    morning   at  six    o'clock.       The  "  I   understand   that   he  won't  be  back 
President   is  away.      If  he  were  here,  the  until  to-morrow  afternoon,"  I  replied. 
man  certainly  wouldn't  be  executed.     He  "Well,    as  the    President    is   not    here, 
isn't  here.     I  think  it  very  essential  to  the  will  you  sign  the  warrant  ?  " 
safety  of  the  service   and   the   safety   of  "  Go  to  Mr.  Stanton,"   I  said;  "he  is 
everything   that    an   example   should    be  the  authority." 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


57o 


MEN  AND. EVENTS  OF   THE  CIVIL    WAR, 


"I  have  been  to  him,  and  he  said  I 
should  come  to  you." 

Well,  I  signed  the  order;  I  agreed  with 
General  Augur  in  his  view  of  the  question. 
jAt  about  eleven  o'clock  .the  next  day  I 
met  the  general.  "  The  President  got 
home  at  two  o'clock  this  morning,"  he 
said,  "  and  he  stopped  it  all." 
\  But  it  was  not  only  in  matters  of  life  and 
death  that  Mr.  Lincoln  was  merciful.  He 
jwas  kind  at  heart  towards  all  the  world. 
J  noticed  his  sweetness  of  nature  partic- 
ularly with  his  little  son,  a  child  at  that 
time  perhaps  seven  or  nine  years  jold,  who 
used  to  roam  the  departments  and  whom 
everybody  called  "  Tad."  He  had  a  de- 
fective palate,  and  couldn't  speak  very 
plainly.  Often  I  have  sat  by  his  father, 
reporting  to  him  some  important  matter 
that  I  had  been  ordered  to  inquire  into, 
and  he  would  have  this  boy  on  his  knee. 
While  he  would  perfectly  understand  the 
report,  the  striking  thing  about  him  was 
his  affection  for  the  child. 

He  was  good  to  everybody.  Once  there 
was  a  great  gathering  at  the  White  House 
on  New  Year's  day,  and  all  the  diplomats 
came  in  their  uniforms,  and  all  the  officers 
of  the  army  and  navy  in  Washington  were 
in  full  costume.  A  little  girl  of  mine  said, 
M  Papa,  couldn't  you  take  me  over  to  see 
that?"  I  said,  Yes;  so  I  took  her  over 
and  put  her  in  a  corner,  where  she  beheld 
the  gorgeous  show.  When  it  was  fin- 
ished, I  went  up  to  Mr.  Lincoln  and  said, 
"  I  have  a  little  girl  here  who  wants  to 
shake  hands  with  you."  He  went  over  to 
her,  and  took  her  up  and  kissed  her  and 
talked  to  her.  She  will  never  forget  it  if 
she  lives  to  be  a  thousand  years  old. 

BACK    TO    THE    FRONT. 

I  remained  in  Washington  the  entire 
winter  of  1863-64,  occupied  mainly  with 
the  routine  business  of  the  Department. 
Meantime  the  Chattanooga  victory  had 
made  Grant  the  great  military  figure  of  the 
country,  and  deservedly  so.  The  grade 
of  lieutenant-general  had  been  immediately 
revived  by  act  of  Congress,  and  the  Pres- 
ident had  promptly  promoted  him  to  the 
new  rank,  and  made  him  general-in-chief 
of  all  the  armies  of  the  United  States. 
His  military  prestige  was  such  that  every- 
thing was  put  into  his  hands,  everything 
yielded  to  his  wishes.  The  coming  of 
Grant  was  a  great  relief  to  the  President 
and  the  Secretary.  Halleck,  the  late  gen- 
eral-in-chief, consented  to  serve  as  Grant's 
chief-of-staff  in   Washington,    practically 


continuing  his  old  service  of  chief  mili- 
tary adviser  to  the  President  and  the  Sec- 
retary of  War,  while  Grant  took  the  field  in 
active  direction  of  operations  against 
Richmond.  Halleck  was  not  thought  to  be 
a  great  man  in  the  field,  but  he  was  never- 
theless a  man  of  military  ability,  and  by 
reason  of  his  great  accomplishments  in  the 
technics  of  armies  and  of  war  was  almost 
invaluable  as  an  adviser  to  the  civilians 
Lincoln  and  Stanton.  He  was  an  honest 
man,  perhaps  something  lacking  in  moral 
courage,  yet  earnest  and  energetic  in  his 
efforts  to  sustain  the  national  government. 
I  have  heard  Halleck  accused  of  being 
unjust  to  his  inferiors,  especially  Grant.  I 
believe  this  wrong.  I  never  thought  him 
unjust  to  anybody.  He  always  had  his  own 
ideas,  and  insisted  strenuously  on  following 
his  own  course,  but  I  never  detected  a  sign 
of  injustice  in  his  conduct  towards  others. 
I  think  this  false  impression  came  from 
the  fact  that  he  was  a  very  critical  man. 
The  first  impulse  of  his  mind  towards  a 
new  plan  was  not  enthusiasm;  it  was  anal- 
ysis, criticism.  His  habit  of  picking  men 
and  manners  to  pieces  to  see  what  they 
were  worth  gave  the  idea  that  he  was  un- 
just and  malicious  towards  certain  of  his 
subordinates. 

It  was  March  when  Grant  came  to 
Washington  to  receive  his  new  grade  of 
lieutenant-general.  Soon  afterwards  he 
joined  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  On  the 
4th  of  May  he  had  moved  out  from  Cul- 
peper,  where  the  army  had  been  in  winter 
quarters  since  the  previous  December,  and 
crossed  the  Rapidan  with  an  effective 
force  of  120,000  men.  General  Lee,  his 
opponent,  had  about  70,000. 

For  two  days  after  Grant  moved  we  had 
no  authentic  reports  from  the  army,  al- 
though it  was  known  that  great  events 
were  transpiring.  Mr.  Stanton  and  Mr. 
Lincoln  had  begun  to  get  uneasy.  The 
evening  of  May  6th  I  was  at  a  reception, 
when  a  messenger  came  with  summons  to 
the  War  Department.  I  hurried  over  to 
the  office  in  evening  dress.  The  President 
was  there,  talking  very  soberly  with  Stan- 
ton. 

"  Dana,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "you  know 
we  have  been  in  the  dark  for  two  days 
since  Grant  moved.  We  are  very  much 
troubled,  and  have  concluded  to  send  you 
down  there.     How  soon  can  you  start  ?  " 

"  In  half  an  hour,"  I  replied. 

In  about  that  time  I  had  an  engine  fired 
up  at  Alexandria,  and  a  cavalry  escort  of 
a  hundred  men  awaiting  me  there.  I  had 
gotten  into   my  camp   clothes,  had    bor- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


CUPID'S  MESSENGER. 


571 


rowed  a  pistol,  and  with  my  own  horse 
was  aboard  the  train  at  Maryland  Avenue 
that  was  to  take  me  to  Alexandria.  My 
only  baggage  was  a  tooth-brush.  I  was 
just  starting,  when  an  orderly  galloped 
up  with  word  that  the  President  wished  to 
see  me.  I  rode  back  to  the  Department  in 
hot  haste.  Mr.  Lincoln  was  sitting  in  the 
same  place. 

"Well,  Dana,"  said  he,  looking  up, 
"  since  you  went  away  I've  been  thinking 
about  it.  I  don't  like  to  send  you  down 
there." 

"But  why  not,  Mr.  President?"  I 
asked,  a  little  surprised. 

"  You  can't  tell,"  continued  the  Presi- 
dent, "  just  where  Lee  is  or  what  he  is  do- 
ing, and  Jeb  Stuart  is  rampaging  around 
pretty  lively  in  between  the  Rappahan- 
nock and  the  Rapidan.  It's  a  considera- 
ble risk,  and  I  don't  like  to  expose  you 
to  it." 


"Mr.  President,"  I  said,  "I  have  a 
cavalry  guard  ready  and  a  good  horse  my- 
self. If  we  are  attacked,  we  probably 
will  be  strong  enough  to  fight.  If  we  are 
not  strong  enough  to  fight,  and  it  comes 
to  the  worst,  we  are  equipped  to  run.  It's 
getting  late,  and  I  want  to  get  down  to  the 
Rappahannock  by  daylight.  I  think  I'll 
start." 

"  Well,  now,  Dana,"  said  the  President, 
with  a  little  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  "if  you 
feel  that  way,  I  rather  wish  you  would. 
Good  night,  and  God  bless  you." 

By  seven  o'clock  the  morning  of  May 
7th  I  was  at  the  Rappahannock,  where  I 
found  a  rear  guard  of  the  army.  I  stopped 
there  for  breakfast,  and  then  hurried  on 
to  Grant's  headquarters,  which  were  at 
Piney  Branch  Meeting  House.  There  I 
learned  of  the  crossing  of  the  Rapidan  by 
our  army,  and  of  the  desperate  battle  of 
the  Wilderness  on  May  5th  and  6th. 


CUPID'S    MESSENGER. 


By  Gertrudk  Adams. 


MISS  PORTER,  the  learned  Ph.D. 
and  professor  of  logic,  sat  in  her 
study  in  their  joint  apartments  looking  up 
some  points  on  fallacies.  Edith  was  in 
the  reception-room  adjoining,  and  al- 
though the  door  was  closed,  Miss  Porter 
knew  from  the-  earnest  masculine  voice 
that  occasionally  interrupted  the  feminine 
treble  that  the  persevering  Mr.  Paul 
Verdenal  had  again  appeared  to  waste 
two  or  three  hours  of  Edith's  time.  Edith 
had  come  to  New  York  to  pursue  music, 
and  Mr.  Verdenal  had  come  to  New  York 
to  pursue  Edith.  Mr.  Verdenal,  appar- 
ently, that  afternoon,  had  the  inside  track. 
At  last  there  was  the  sound  of  a  closing 
door,  and  Edith  appeared  in  the  study. 

"  He's — he's  asked  me,"  she  said,  walk- 
ing to  the  window  and  frowning  out  at  the 
Palisades. 

"Did  you  tell  him  yes  or  no?"  Miss 
Porter  inquired  crisply. 

"Dear  me,  I  didn't  tell  him  either," 
the  girl  replied.  "  A  question  like  that,  a 
question  of  your  whole  future  happiness, 
you  know,  could  scarcely  be  decided  upon 
in  one  mad  instant,  and  I've  a  short  enough 
time  as  it  is,  heaven  knows.  I've  given 
my  word  of  honor  to  send  an  answer  to 
the  steamer  before  ten  to-night.  That 
means  getting  a  messenger- boy " 


"Special  delivery  is  cheaper  and  just 
as  sure.  The  postman  collects  at  five," 
interrupted  Miss  Porter. 

"  That  gives  me  only  two  hours  to 
think  it  over.  Still,  if  I  can  save  as  much 
as  fifteen  cents,  it's  worth  the  extra  brain 
pressure.  You  see,"  the  girl  went  on, 
••he— Mr.  Verdenal— Paul— Mrs.  Paul 
Verdenal*—"  she  said  meditatively,  and 
then  stopped,  blushing  and  smiling  all  to 
herself.  It  was  fully  five  minutes  before 
she  came  out  of  the  sentimental  laby- 
rinth in  which  she  had  lost  herself. 
"Paul,"  she  resumed,  at  length,  "sails 
to-morrow  noon  for  South  America.  It's 
a  good  long  eighteen  months'  mining  con- 
tract this  time,  so,  of  course,  he  wants 
all  his  business  settled  up  before  he  sails, 
and " 

"  And  you  are  to  be  settled  up,  too, 
along  with  the  other  unfinished  business," 
Miss  Porter  supplied. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  ;  "  and  he  wanted  me 
to  tell  him  right  smack  off  whether  I 
would  or  wouldn't.  He's  so  awfully 
direct.  'Come,'  he  said,  'you  know 
whether  it's  yes  or  no.'  But  I  begged  for 
a  little  time.  He  has  a  lot  of  business 
down  town  to  see  about,  so  he  can't  come 
up  town  again  to  find  out.  My  answer 
must  be  at  the  steamer  for  him.  He's 
Digitized  by  VjOOQLC 


572 


CUPID'S  MESSENGER. 


going  aboard  to-night,  so  that  he  can  see 
about  the  loading  of  his  mining  things 
early  to-morrow  morning.  He  was  awfully 
curt  when  I  told  him  I  couldn't  for  the 
life  of  me  tell  him  yes  or  no.  Oh,  dear,  I 
dare  say  he  fancied — well,  I  don't  know 
what.     And  here  it  is  after  three!  " 

She  got  up  and  looked  at  herself  in  the 
mirror  over  the  fireplace,  and  then  gazed 
half  enviously  at  Miss  Porter,  who  was 
cutting  her  way  through  the  pages  of  a 
thick  logic  with  the  complacent  expression 
of  one  whose  mind  is  at  ease. 

41  It  means  giving  up  my  freedom, M 
Edith  said  wistfully,  looking  at  Miss  Por- 
ter and  inviting  contradiction. 

"A  married  woman  is  under  the  thumb 
of  her  husband,"  that  lady  found  time  to 


'HE'S— HE  S    ASKED    ME,      SHE    SAID, 


say,  as  she  slid  her  paper-knife  between 
the  leaves. 

Edith  wriggled  uneasily. 
"Don't,"  she  said;  "  I   feel  as  though 
an  iron  clamp  or  vise  was  around  some- 
where.    Does  Paul  strike  you  as  a  tyran- 
nical sort  of  man  ?  " 

"  He's  the  sort  of  man  who  would  be 
master  in  his  own  house,  I  think,"  said 
Miss  Porter. 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Edith,  cocking  her 
head  on  one  side  and  looking  critically  at 
Miss  Porter,  "  after  all,  what  do  you  know 
about  him  ?  You  can't  judge  him,  you 
really  can't,  from  the  little  you  have  seen 
of  him.  And,  besides,  you've  always 
managed  to  get  on  the  wrong  subjects 
with  him — women's  having  latch-keys,  and 

theirgoingalone 
to  the  theaters 
at  night.  He 
never  shows  off 
at  his  best  on 
those  subjects, 
because  he  has 
such  mediaeval 
opinions,  you 
know.  But,  any- 
way, tyrannical 
or  not,  I  should 
loathe  a  man  I 
could  twist 
around  my  fin- 
g  e  r  ;  now, 
wouldn't  you  ?  " 
"  I  should  not, 
•under  any  cir- 
cumstances, en- 
joy life  with  a 
bully,"  rejoined 
Miss  Porter, 
after  a  mo- 
ment's  thought. 
1  '  We  are  not 
considering  life 
with  a  bully," 
said  Edith,  "  we 
are  considering 
life  with  a  min- 
ing engineer." 

She  seated 
herself  at  Miss 
Porter's  desk, 
and  began  pull- 
ing over  the 
note  paper. 

"  I'm  going  to 
write  here,  if 
you  don't  mind," 
she  said.  "  I 
don't  want  to  go 
Digitized  by  VjOOQlC 


WALKING    TO    THE    WINDOW    AND    FROWI'INC    OUT    AT   THE 
TALISADES." 


CUPID'S  MESSENGER. 


573 


to  my  own  desk.  It's  stuffed  so  full  of 
Paul's  letters  that  I  haven't  room  for  a 
thing  in  it." 

She  seized  a  pen,  and  began  scratching 
away. 

"If  you  have  any  advice  to  offer," 
she  said,  while  she  was  writing,  "speak 
now.     It's  your  last  chance." 

"  If  you    love  him  "" 
deliberately,     "tell 


me  three  times  this  afternoon  the  same  question,  and 
I  have  answered  you  now  for  all  time. 

14  Edith." 


"But  why  two?"  asked  Miss  Porter, 
with  a  puzzled  frown,  as  she  gave  back 
the  note,  "  and  which  are  you  going  to 
send  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  yet,"  she  said.    "  I  have 
said  Miss  Porter   until  five  to  decide,  and  I  want  them  both 

ready,  so  that  I  shall 
be  perfectly  free  to 
think  up  to  the  last 
minute,  and  then  I 
am  prepared  for 
whatever  I  decide 
upon.  Now  I  am 
going  off  by  myself, 
so  that  I  can  have  it 
perfectly  quiet  to 
think." 

She  disappeared, 
and  five  minutes  later 
the  "  Du  und  Du 
Waltz "  awoke  the 
echoes  of  the  quiet 
apartment.  Miss 
Porter  recollected 
Edith's  saying  that 
when  she  and  Paul 
were  children  to- 
gether, in  San  Fran- 
cisco, they  used  to 
waltz  to  the  "  Du  und 
Du,"  and  Miss  Por- 
ter concluded  that 
playing  this  waltz 
was  Edith's  way  of 
thinking. 

Ten    minutes  later 

the    "  Du  und    Du  " 

died    a    harmonic 

death,     and     twenty 

minutes    later    Edith 

appeared     in     the 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment.  study  in  her  bicycle  suit. 

"Well,    what    do    you    think    of    it?"        "I    haven't    made   up   my  mind    yet," 

Edith  asked.  she  announced.     "  But  I  am  going  out  on 

"I  think  it  sounds  a  little — cold,"  said    my  wheel.     I  can  always  think  better  when 

Miss  Porter.  I  am  whizzing  along  in  the  open  air.     You 

"  Well,  you  can't  make  that  sort  of  letter    can't  think,  you  know,  all  stewed  up  in  a 

sound  very  warm  and  effusive,"  Edith  re-    little  apartment." 

plied  calmly;  "  but  now  how's  this  ?  "  She    was    buttoning    her    jacket,     and 

She  took  up  a  sheet  of  blue  note  paper,    tucking  in  the  long  ends  of  a  blue  Liberty 

and  began  reading  aloud:  scarf  which  she  had  around  her  neck,  as 

"'Dear,     dear    Paul;'"    she    got    no    she  spoke, 
further,   however,    and  after  a  moment's        "Are  your  eyes  good  ?"  she  demanded 
hesitation,   she  handed  the  note  to    Miss    abruptly. 

Porter,  who  quickly  read  this  brief  note        "  I  can  tell  a  hawk  from  a  handsaw," 
upon  the  blue  paper:  Miss  Porter  replied. 

4<  Yes,  but  at  what  range  ?      Come  here 

"Dear,  dear  /><!///— Yes,  yes,    yes.      You    asked     to  the  window,"  she  Commanded. 

Google 


him  yes.  If  you  do 
not  love  him,  tell 
him  no." 

"  Thank  you," 
laughed  Edith. 
44  Oh,  wise  and  up- 
right Ph.D.,  you 
have  made  it  so 
very  clear  and  sim- 
ple. I  see  my  way 
perfectly." 

At  the  end  of  ten 
minutes  Edith's 
voice  broke  the  si- 
lence. 

"  Do  you  want  to 
hear  this  ?  " 

Miss  Porter  signi- 
fied her  willingness. 

Edith  read  aloud, 
slowly  and  impres- 
sively: 

44  Dear  Paul, — I  have 
thought  it  all  over  very 
carefully,  and  it  seems  to 
me  I  am  not  the  kind  of 
woman  to  make  you 
happy.  This  is  my  final 
decision.  I  most  earn- 
estly trust  that  it  will 
make  no  difference  in  our 
friendship. 
**  Yours  very  sincerely, 

44  Edith  Armitac.k." 


UA    RLI'R   SCARF   FLOATED   STEADILV   CUT    IN    THE    OCTOBER 
BKEEZE." 


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574 


CUPID  S  MESSENGER. 


Miss  Porter  rose,  and  crossed  the  room. 

44  Do  you  see  that  car,"  Edith  asked, 
"down  by  the  hospital?"  What  color  is 
it?" 

44  Blue,"  replied  Miss  Porter. 

44  Good,"     exclaimed     the     examiner. 
44  Now,  I  am  going  out  for  my  spin,  and  I 
am    going   to  think  all   the  time,  and  at 
about  fivt  minutes  to  five  I  shall  ride  up 
to  that  corner,  and  I  shall  signal  to  you 
which  letter  you  are  to 
post  to  Paul.     If  I  wave 
my  handkerchief,  put  the 
special    delivery    stamp 
on    the   white   envelope 
and   send    it;    and    if   I 
wave  my  blue  scarf,  then 
send  the  blue  one." 

44  Child's  play,"  Miss 
Porter  commented,  with 
a  smile.  <4  Why  don't 
you  take  them  both  with 
you,  and  send  the  one 
you  want  to  send  your- 
self?" 

44  I  should  have  to 
carry  them  in  my  pocket, 
which  would  spoil  the 
hang  of  my  skirt;  and, 
besides,  I  might — I  am  in 
such  an  agony  of  doubt 
— send  them  both,"  the 
girl  replied. 

When  she  had  gone, 
Miss  Porter  tried  to  set- 
tle down  to  the  quiet 
reading  which  her  soul 
loved;  but  after  each 
paragraph  she  gave  a 
startled  look  at  the  clock,  fearing  that 
her  absorption  might  tempt  the  hands  of 
the  clock  to  more  rapid  movement  than 
the  government  allows.  At  ten  minutes 
of  five,  with  a  look  of  relief,  she  rose  and 
went  to  the  window.  Promptly  at  the 
appointed  time  she  saw  Edith  flash  into 
sight  around  the  corner  of  St.  Luke's 
Hospital.  The  opera  glasses  which  Miss 
Porter  focused  upon  her,  revealed  her 
riding  slowly  about  in  a  circle,  fumbling 
at  her  jacket.  Presently  she  turned  her 
wheel  so  that  it  faced  Miss  Porter,  and 
as  she  rode  half  up  the  street,  and  then 
turned  and  rode  down  again,  a  blue  scarf 
floated  steadily  out  in  the  October  breeze, 
adding  a  new  note  of  color  to  the  red  sun- 
set clouds  that  were  sending  their  glow 
over  the  Palisades  and  across  the  Hudson. 

Miss  Porter  turned  from  the  window  as 
Edith  wheeled  away  to  the  Boulevard. 

At  five  o'clock  there  was  in  the  hands 


of  the  postman  a  letter  in  a  blue  envelope, 
addressed : 

44  Mr.  Paul  Verdenal, 

44S.S.  'Advance,' 

44  West  Twenty-seventh  Street  Pier, 

44  New  York." 

Edith  was  back  just  in  time  to  dress  for 

dinner. 

44  We  must  go  somewhere,"  she  said  to 
Miss  Porter,  who  seemed  inclined  to  pro- 


HE    PULLED    HIS  CHAIR   NEAkER   AND   LEANED   ON  THE   EDGE  OF  THE   BOX-RAIL. 


test.  44 1  can't  bear  to  be  left  alone  with 
my  thoughts  any  longer;  I  want  a  radical 
change  of  atmosphere  and  tone.  Now, 
what  do  you  say  to  our  going  after  dinner 
to  that  place  where  that  English  music- 
hall  singer  is  ?  " 

Miss  Porter  said  several  things,  and 
would  have  said  several  more  had  not 
Edith  interrupted  her  with,  4I  Yes,  I  know 
it's  smoky  and  all  that,  but  it's  perfectly 
respectable,  oh,  perfectly;  and  I've  often 
heard  you  say  you  were  thankful  that  you 
were  sufficiently  emancipated  to  go  with- 
out fear  anywhere  in  New  York  where  a 
respectable  man  would  go.  And  from  the 
point  of  view  of  my  music,  it  is  really  my 
duty  to  go.  The  newspapers  and  the 
musical  journals  say  it  is  really  something 
new  in  the  way  of  recitative  singing." 

The  programme  had  already  begun  when 
she  and  Miss  Porter  took  their  seats  quite 
far   back   in   the    music-hall,  and    gazed 

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CUPID'S  MESSENGER. 


575 


through  the  air  blue  with  smoke   at   an 
expert  juggler  juggling  with    hoops  and 
glass  balls.      Miss  Porter    tired   of    him 
soon,   and  interested  herself  in  watching 
the  house.      While  she  was  gazing  about, 
a  party  of  men  filed  into  one  of  the  stage- 
boxes.     They  were  not  in  evening  dress; 
indeed    one    of     the     men    wore     rough 
tweeds.     There  was  something  familiar  to 
Miss  Porter  in  the  appearance  of  the  one 
thus  clad — something 
in  his  carriage,  for  she 
could  not  see  his  face. 
After  he  sat  down,  he 
turned     slightly    and 
lighted  his  cigarette. 

"  It's  Paul  Verde- 
nal,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Porter. 

Edith  turned  about 
quickly,  and  glanced 
in  the  direction  in 
which  Miss  Porter  was 
looking.  She  did  not 
speak. 

There  were  five 
men  in  the  box,  and 
they  seemed  to  be  in 
the  gayest  mood  as 
they  talked  and 
laughed  and  smoked. 
A  hopeless  "  left-out " 
expression  slowly 
spread  itself  over 
Edith's  face. 

The  juggler  mean- 
while vanished  from 
the  stage  in  a  whirl- 
wind of  glass  balls  and 
hoops,  and  an  Irish 
"  lady  artiste  "  of  im- 
posing height  and 
magnificent  breadth 
advanced  to  the  front 
of  the  stage  and  began 
a  stentorian  music- 
hall  recitative,'*  Ain't 
I  a  nice  little  gurrul?  " 

The  box  full  of  men 
clapped  enthusiastically.  Paul  Verdenal's 
shoulders  shook  with  convulsive  enjoy- 
ment at  each  repetition  of  the  coy  inquiry. 
He  pulled  his  chair  nearer  and  leaned  on  the 
edge  of  the  box-rail  as  his  interest  waxed. 

"Come,  let's  go,"  said  Edith,  with  a 
little  gasp.  "  That  woman  is  singing  off 
the  key,  and  this  smoke  is  choking  me." 

When  they  were  once  again  in  the  cool 
night  air  and  had  turned  into  Broadway, 
Edith  spoke': 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  began,  "  Paul  said 


EXPERT    JtGGLER     JUGGLING   WITH    HOOPS 
GLASS   HALLS." 


business  would  keep  him  down-town?  Now, 
I  don't  think  going  to  a  place  like  that  is 
business." 

"  It  must  be,"  murmured  Miss  Porter; 
"  for  it  certainly  isn't  pleasure." 

41  He  said,"  Edith  went  on  in  a  sepul- 
chral tone,    "  '  I  am  so  sorry  I  can't  see 
you  again;  but  business,  and  saying  good- 
by  to  one  or  two  old  friends,  sandwiched 
in  between,  will  keep  me  down-town  until 
I   sail.'     Those   were 
his  very  words.      And 
he    said,     too,     he 
couldn't  draw   a  free 
breath  until  he  knew 
whether  he  could  look 
forward  to  a — a — a — 
well,    have    me,    you 
know.       Now,    for    a 
man  who  has  said  ail 
that,  I  really  do  think 
he  is  enjoying  himself 
amazingly,     don't 
you  ?" 

Miss  Porter  ac- 
knowledged that  Paul 
Verdenal,  with  his  fate 
hanging  in  the  bal- 
ance, gave  every  evi- 
dence of  a  man  who 
was  on  very  good 
terms  with  the  world. 
They  walked  after 
this  for  some  time  in 
silence.  When  they 
were  opposite  Madison 
Square  Edith  spoke 
again,  very  gravely. 

"  That  'letter  this 
afternoon  was  sent  off 
without  due  delibera- 
tion, lam  going  to  ask 
you  to  do  something 
for  me.  They  say  the 
friendship  of  women 
isn't  like  the  friendship 
of  men;  but  you  will 
be  as  faithful  as  a  man 
friend,  won't  you  ?" 
"  I  will  try  to  be,"  Miss  Porter  replied 
cautiously. 

"  Will  you  go  down  to  that  steamer  and 
get  Paul  to  give  me  back  that  letter  I 
sent  him  ?  You  may  tell  him  that  you 
sent  it,  and  that  I  want  it  back;  that  there 
is  a  mistake  about  it.  He  won't  refuse 
you.  If  you  go  over  at  once,  you  will  be 
there  when  he  goes  aboard.  He  said  he 
would  go  aboard  at  ten.  Tell  him  that 
he  shall  have  his  answer  from  me  before  he 
sails  to-morrow  noon.  Now  go;  get  a  cab." 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


576 


CUPID'S  MESSENGER. 


"But,  Edith,"  remonstrated  Miss  Por- 
ter, "why  do  you  want  mc  to  go  to  the 
steamer  ?  You  can  write  and  tell  him 
that  you  have  changed  your  mind." 

"  No,  no;  it's  cruel  to  let  him  read  that 
note  of  mine  and  then  get  another  note 
from  me  taking  it  all  back.  Now,  do  go. 
I  have  such  a  strong  intuition  that  I  have 
made  a  mistake.  I  don't  think  he  cares 
for  me  as  he  vows  he  does,  and  his  tastes 
are  wholly  different  from  mine.  Now  go; 
take  a  cab/' 

Edith  gave  one  final  imploring  glance  in 
Miss  Porter's  direction,  and  then  darted 
out  into  the  middle  of  the  street,  toward 
a  cable-car  which  had  stopped  at  her 
signal. 

A  few  moments  later,  Miss  Porter,  char- 
acteristically disregarding  the  expensive 
cab  advice,  got  into  a  cross-town  car  and 
jogged  thoughtfully  over  to  the  West  Side. 
From  the  terminus  she  walked  up  to 
Twenty-seventh  Street.  It  was  not  a 
pleasant  walk;  but  the  thought  that  she 
compared  most  favorably  with  any  faith- 
ful friend  of  the  other  sex  cheered  Miss 
Porter's  uneven  path  over  rough  cobble- 
stones and  past  forbidding  warehouses. 

As  she  walked  down  the  long  pier,  fra- 
grant with  licorice  and  other  South  Ameri- 
can products,  an  unpleasant  thought  as- 
sailed her.  Who  could  tell  how  long  she 
might  be  forced  to  wait  for  the  festive 
Mr.  Verdenal  ?  Might  he  not  prolong  his 
farewell  ceremonies  until  cock-crow  ? 

Notwithstanding  these  cheerless  fore- 
bodings, Miss  Porter  walked  resolutely  up 
the  gang-plank  and  sat  down  on  the  deck 
of  the  clean  white  steamer. 

There  was  an  unusually  heavy  cargo  to 
be  shipped  South,  and,  late  as  it  was, 
great  trucks  and  wagons  came  rolling 
down  the  pier  with  freight  to  be  loaded 
into  the  hold. 

One  of  the  ship's  officers  appeared  on 
the  deck,  and,  as  he  was  pacing  slowly  by 
her,  Miss  Porter  stopped  him  to  explain 
that  she  was  waiting  to  see  a  Mr.  Verde- 
nal who  expected  to  come  aboard  that 
night.  She  also  asked  if  it  would  be  pos- 
sible to  ascertain  whether  a  special  deliv- 
ery letter  addressed  to  Mr.  Verdenal  had 
been  received  on  the  steamer.  The  officer 
sent  some  one  below  to  inquire.  Pres- 
ently the  man  returned  to  say  that  there 
were  several  letters  awaiting  Mr.  Verde- 
nal, but  none  of  them  bore  a  special 
delivery  stamp. 

After  this  information,  and  while  Miss 
Porter  was  strolling  restlessly  toward  the 
forward   end   of   the   deck,    there   was   a 


sound  of  light  wheels  rolling  down  the 
pier.  She  turned  quickly  and  walked  over 
to  the  deck-rail.  A  hansom  had  paused 
at  the  gang-plank,  and  two  men  got  out. 
One  of  them  she  recognized  as  Paul. 
He  and  his  companion  hurried  up  the 
gangway,  and  before  she  had  time  to 
reach  them  they  were  on  their  way  down 
into  the  saloon. 

She  waited  on  deck,  slightly  annoyed  at 
the  delay,  but  secure  in  the  knowledge 
that  Edith's  letter  had  not  yet  been  deliv- 
ered. 

Presently  they  were  heard  coming  up 
the  stairs,  but  Paul  went  to  his  stateroom, 
and  the  friend  came  out  on  deck  alone, 
sitting  down  not  far  from  Miss  Porter. 
While  she  sat  there  in  the  half-light,  wish- 
ing herself  well  out  of  the  affair,  and  won- 
dering when  Paul  would  emerge  again,  he 
shot  suddenly  out  of  the  cabin  and  across 
the  deck  to  where  his  friend  was  sitting. 

"It's  all  right,  Jim,  old  fellow,"  Miss 
Porter  heard  him  say.  "I  wasn't  at  all 
sure.  But  it  went,  after  all,  straight  as 
water  through  a  sluice-box.  The  matter's 
clinched  now." 

Then,  to  the  amazement  of  Miss  Porter, 
Paul  executed  a  sort  of  clog-dance  in  front 
of  his  friend,  who  evidently  had  seen 
enough  of  that  sort  of  thing  at  the  music- 
hall;  for  he  seized  Paul  by  the  arm,  took 
the  pipe  from  between  his  own  lips,  and 
growled  out: 

"Well,  keep  your  hair  on,  old  man. 
You're  not  the  first  fish  that's  been 
hooked." 

Miss  Porter  fancied  from  this,  to  her, 
half-foreign  language,  that  Paul  had  re- 
ceived good  news  from  some  business  ven- 
ture; and,  rising,  she  walked  to  the  other 
end  of  the  deck,  until  he  should  be  quiet 
enough  to  behave  like  a  rational  being. 

It  was  getting  late,  and  as  no  messenger 
had  come  aboard  since  her  arrival,  it 
seemed  to  her  foolhardy  to  wait  until  the 
delivery  of  the  letter.  She  concluded, 
therefore,  that  she  would  pledge  Paul 
upon  his  honor  to  return  to  Edith,  un- 
opened, the  letter  for  which  she  had  come. 
This  required  tactful  handling,  and  she 
was  mentally  rehearsing  an  opening  plea, 
when  she  heard  quick  steps  behind  her. 
Turning,  she  faced  Paul  Verdenal. 

41  You  ?  Miss  Porter  !  "  he  exclaimed; 
then  he  swiftly  concealed  his  overpower- 
ing amazement,  like  the  well-bred  man  he 
was.  "  The  steward  just  told  me  that 
there  was  a  lady  who  had  been  waiting  to 
see  me  for  some  time,  but  T  could  not 
imagine  who  it  could  be." 


Digitized  by 


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CUPID'S  MESSENGER, 


577 


"Mr.  Verde- 
nal,"  Miss  Porter 
began,  "Miss 
Armitage " 

"Edith,"  he  in- 
terrupted, with  a 
radiant  smile. 
"Of  course,  you 
know  all  about  it. 
She  told  me  she 
was  going  to  con- 
sult you.  She  has 
the  greatest  opin- 
ion of  your  judg- 
ment, you  know. 
Yes,  I've  just  got 
her  note,"  he  rat- 
tled on,  not  notic- 
ing Miss  Porter's 
start  of  surprise, 
for  he  seemed  to- 
tally lost  in  a  mist 
of  amiable  joyous- 
ness.  "  Edith  said 
she  would  have  it 
here  by  ten.  I 
got  here  to  the 
minute,  but  the 
note  was  nowhere 
to  be  found  in  the 
saloon.  I  was 
completely  bowled 
over.  You  know 
she  always    keeps 

her  word.  Then  I  went  tip  to  my  state- 
room, and  there  I  found  her  note.  I 
was  relieved,  you  can  fancy.  Tell  Edith 
she  can  have  no  idea  of  the  suspense  I 
have  been  in  to-night." 

"  She  perhaps  has  just  a  faint  idea  of 
it,"  said  Miss  Porter. 

"Well,  possibly,"  Paul  admitted. 
"  And  I  am  so  glad  that,  when  Edith  con- 
sulted you  in  this  little  affair,  your  judg- 
ment didn't  fail  you,  Miss  Porter." 

While  Paul,  in  the  excess  of  his  grati- 
tude, was  shaking  hands  with  Miss  Porter, 
she  suddenly  gave  his  hand  a  most  cordial 
pressure,  and  resolved,  at  that  instant,  that 
her  duty  for  the  night  was  over.  She 
could  not  get  the  note.  Cruel  it  might  be 
to  keep  Paul  Verdenal  in  ignorance  of 
the  truth,  but  it  was  Edith's,  not  her  task 
to  enlighten  him.  The  only  task  that 
claimed  her  attention  was  the  sufficiently 
difficult  one  of  offering  a  plausible  excuse 
for  her  singular  appearance  on  shipboard 
at  that  hour  of  the  night. 

"  It  is  getting  late,  Mr.  Verdenal,"  she 
said,  "  and  I  must  go.  Good-by.  You 
have  my  best  wishes,  and  I  am  glad  to 


YOf  ?    MISS   rORTER*!  '    HE   EXCLAIMED. " 

have  had  this  little  glimpse  of  you.  Edith 
was  sure  I  would  see  you  if  I  came  here 
at  this  time." 

"  And  you  took  all  this  trouble  just  to 
say  good-by  to  me?"  he  said,  looking 
both  touched  and  amazed,  as  well  he 
might,  at  this  unexpected  devotion  on  Miss 
Porter's  part.  "  I  was  going  to  ask  for 
you,  this  afternoon;  but  the  truth  is,  I 
forgot  all  about  it.  You  understand  the 
— the  agitation  I  was  in  made  me  forget 
much  that  I  should  have  remembered." 

He  accompanied  her  with  great  cere- 
mony down  the  gangway,  and  insisted 
upon  sending  her  home  in  the  cab  which 
was  waiting  on  the  pier  for  his  friend. 

"Tell  Edith,"  he  said,  just  before  the 
cab  turned,  "that  I  shall  be  up  in  the 
morning  to  see  her.  I  don't  sail  until 
noon;  so  tell  her  if  she  has  any  musical 
engagements  to  cut  them." 

"  It's  very  easy  for  Edith  to  change  her 
plans,"  said  Miss  Porter,  smiling  grimly. 
"  I  shall  deliver  your  messages." 

When  she  reached  home,  she  found  that 
it  would  be  necessary,  before  delivering 
any   messages,  to   awaken  Edith.      That 


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CUPID  S  MESSENGER. 


young  lady  was  curled  up  like  a  kitten, 
sound  asleep,  in  a  nest  of  pillows  upon  the 
broad  window  seat  in  Miss  Porter's  study. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  said  sleepily,  opening  her 
eyes  and  smiling  at  Miss  Porter,  who  ex- 
claimed in  an  indignant  voice: 

"  Edith,  you  amaze  me;  jou  ought  to 
be  walking  the  floor!  " 

"  I  did  until  I  got  tired;  you  have  been 
gone  such  a  long,  long  time." 

"  He  had  opened  your  note,"  said  Miss 
Porter,  sinking  into  her  arm-chair  and 
drawing  off  her  gloves,  "before  I  could 
speak  to  him,  so  I  told  him  nothing.  I  let 
him  think  I  was  an  erratic  fool  of  a  woman 
who  took  the  trouble  to  wish  him  ban  voy- 
age in  a  romantic,  unconventional  way. 
When  you  write  your  refusal,  do  explain 
briefly  about  me." 

"  He  had  read  my  note,  had  he  ?  "  said 
Edith,  who  was  then  very  wide  awake. 
"  How  did  he  seem  about  it  ?  " 

"Very  happy,"  replied  Miss  Porter; 
"quite  mad  with  delight.  Poor  fellow,  1 
never  liked  him  so  much  as  I  do  to-night, 
Edith." 

"And  he  was  very  happy,  was  he?" 
said  Edith,  thoughtfully.  "  Well,  he  does 
think  a  great  deal  of  me,  after  all.  Do 
you  know — coming  home  I — I  thought  I 
had  been  a  little  too  hasty  in  deciding  to 
get  the  note  back." 

Edith  had  here  the  grace  to  blush. 

"  I  wish  you  had  been  hasty  enough  to 
notify  me  of  your  change  of  mind,"  ob- 
served Miss  Porter. 


"Ah,  but  I  couldn't  do  that,  you 
know,"  said  Edith.  She  had  piled  all  the 
fluffy  pillows  in  her  lap,  and,  resting  her 
round  chin  on  the  top  of  one,  she  smiled 
at  Miss  Porter  over  the  barricade. 

"Because,  don't  you  see,  it  was  just 
the— the  thought  of  your  going  over  there, 
and  "ifridoing  my  acceptance  of  him,  and 
rnaKtog  him'  appear  in  the  light  of  one 
lost  to  me-  forever,  that  made  me  realize 
bow— how  inuch  I  cared  for  him  after  all. 
It  was  that  thought,  and  the  thought,  too, 
that  it  wouldn't  be  long  before  Paul  would 
be  attracted  by  some  other  girl ;  he's  a  dear 
fellow,  Paul,  but  fickle,  I  am  afraid.  Yes, 
it  was  the  thought  of  this  other  girl's  inevi- 
table appearance  that  made  me  decide  that, 
even  if  you  did  wrest  the  letter  from  him,  I 
should  send  it  right  back  to  him  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning.  Now,  you  can 
understand  exactly  what  it  was  that 
changed  me.  It's  quite  in  your  line; 
there's  no  intuition  about  it,  it's  all  per- 
fectly logical." 

"It's  all  perfectly  dog-in-the-mangeri- 
cal,"  replied  Miss  Porter.  "  Paul  Verde- 
nal  deserves  to  be  accepted  for  some 
better  reason,  too." 

The  pile  of  pillows  was  scattered  into 
the  four  corners  of  the  study.  Edith 
sprang  to  her  feet. 

"You  dear  thing,"  said  she,  "you're 
cross.  You  don't  know  it,  but  you  are; 
and  I  am  going  to  make  you  a  Welsh  rab- 
bit. We'll  have  a  nice  little  bachelor  sup- 
per to  celebrate  my  engagement." 


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;  g  your  business,  and  learn  the  ( 
I  g  facts. 

\  I      Library  Bureau 

3  &  146  Franklin  St.,  Boston, Mass. 


t  yes  write  to  advertisers. 


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McCLURK'S  MAGAZINE. 


HAIL,    FAIR  LONDONDERRY! 
PI—  mention  McCl.re'.  when  yo.  write  to  .*«*».    Djgitized  by  GoOgk 


MeCLURBS  MAGAZINE. 


Don't  send  up 
my  •  • 


UNTIL  IT  HAS  JIBB2V 

BO/LED 
15  MINUTES 

After  boiling?  oonuneooei. 
That  makes  It 

TOOTHSOME.  PALATABLE 
and  DELICIOUS, 


And 
gray 


brings  out  the  Phosphates  and  albumen  which  rebuild  the 
matter  in  the  nerve  cells  all  over  the  human  body. 


MAKING  A  NEW  MAN  OF  A  COFFEE  WRECK 

(We  have  them  more  numerous  than  one  would  believe )f 
That'a  the  errand  of 

Postum  Cereal  Food  Coffee. 


Pleue  mtntioo  McClure»  when  you  write  to  •dvertiier*. 

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McCLURST8  MAGAZINE. 


Will///         There 

j        is   something   that  ought    to    be 

WE  P1\/F>1       tacked    up    in    every    grocery! 

U  via  Vu  1      It* s  on  a  signboard  over  a  large 

YOU  V     ^ew  York  store   in    Broadway, 

liie-r   ia/ma-p*    where   they   don't   believe    that 

JUST   WHAT]      "substitution"  pays.     And  no- 

VAll  J     body   does    believe   it,    except 


does    believe   it, 
shifty  and  short-sighted    store- 
ASK     FOR    \    keepers.     When  a  woman  wants 


/ 


/ 


A 


Pearline,  for  instance,  she  won't 

'  '/ /  /'/  111  \\V  \  ^e  sat^sfie(i  to  have  some  inferior 
•' !  l '  •  •  • '.  \\  -\  washing-powder  in  its  place.  It 
is  a  fraud  on  the  customer  and  a  fraud  on  Pearline.  You 
can  help  to  put  a  stop  to  it.  When  you  ask  for  Pearline, 
don  t  let  any  imitation  of  it  be  substituted  for  it  fi» 


PIe*se  mention  McCIurc's  i~Vn  you  writ$  to  <i4vcrtt9Cr& 

5°  Digitized  by  G00gle 


McCLVWS  MA&AZIX& 


"'Whin  you  wish  the  Newest  Styles,    Write  to  us." 

1&ixb  S\>g\es  *5rom  6wr  ^arvs  \Lovisfc. 


We  have  recently  received  from  our  Paris  House  some  entirely  new  Winter  styles  in  Suits  and  Jackets. 
We  have  had  these  illustrated  on  a  Supplement  sheet  which  will  be  sent,  together  with  our  new  Winter  Cata- 
logue and  a  choice  collection  of  samples  of  Suitings  and  Cloakings,  to  any  lady  who  wishes  to  dress  well  at 
moderate  cost.  We  keep  no  ready-made  goods,  but  make  every  garment  to  order  according  to  your  individual 
measurements.  We  guarantee  the  perfection  of  fit,  finish  and  style,  and  pay  all  express  charges.  All  orders 
filled  with  the  greatest  promptness;  a  Costume  or  Wrap  can  be  made  in  one  day  when  .ecessary.  We  have 
hundreds  of  unsolicited  testimonials  from  pleased  customers  in  every  state. 

58  Forest  Street,  Rutland,  Vermont,  September  20,  1897. 
The  National  Cloak  Co..  New  York. 

Gentlemen .— I  received  my  suit  yesterday,  and  words  cannot  express  my  delight.    It  is  a  perfect  fit,  and  exactly  as  represented  in 
every  respect.    You  will  in  the  future  receive  other  orders  from  roe,  and  I  shall  be  pleased  to  recommend  your  firm  to  my  friends. 

tRespectfully,  MISS  LILLIAN  COTTA. 

Tailor-Made  Suits  and  Stylish  Dresses,  $5  up* 

Newest  Styles  in  Winter  Jackets  and  Capes,  $3  up*         Velour  and  Plush  Capes*  $J0  up* 

Cloth*  Silk*  and  Satin  Skirts*  $4  up*         Fur  Collarettes*  Genuine  Sealskin*  $t0* 

Our  line  of  samples  includes  the  newest  fabrics  in  Suitings  and  Cloakings,  many  of  them  being  imported  novelties.     We  also  have 
special  lines  of  black  goods.    Write  to-day  for  Catalogue  and  samples ;  you  will  get  them  by  return  mail. 

THE  NATIONAL  CLOAK  CO.,  Ladies' Tailors,  H9-J2J  West  23d  St,  New  York. 

Please  mention  McClmVs  when  you  write  to  advertisers. 


MoOLURB'B  MAGAZINE. 


Ban*  ftrowbMtittfMl  Holiday  1 

ooatalalas;  hundreds  or  llluetratle 

i  latent  production*  1b  Oeld  Mi  Mirer  Jewel- 

1  rj,  Dinaseade,  Watches,  Silverware,  Bevel- 

ties,  etc.    We  are  bow  perfectly  equipped  la  ear  mall  order  department.    Any  article  promptly  eeat  oa  receipt  efprlce. 

and  at  our  risk. 


HOLIDAY  GIFTS  IN  GOLD  AND  SILVER.: 

e  bow  perfectly  equipped  la  our  mall  order  department,    i 

THE  JOHNSTON  JEWELRY  CO.,  17  UNION  SQUARE,  NEW  YORK. 


JO i  —Pearl  Pendant  and  Brooch  fa.oo,  with  Diamond  center  $12. 00.        207— Solid  Sterling  Silver  Pen  Holder,  a  miniature  Golf  Stick, 

aoa — Silver  Mounted    Suspenders,  very  handsome,  $2.50  pair,                  very  novel,  pi. 50. 

black,  white,  or  blue  webbing.  ao&—  14-fc.  Gola  Hat  Pin,  $5.00. 

303— 14-K.  Gold  Brooch,  $5.00.  300— Silver  Pocket  Fruit  Knife  and  Case,  $1.50. 

304— 14  K.  Green  Gold  Butterfly  Scarf  Pin,  $2.00.  a  10— Salve    Box,  Button  Hook,  Nail-File,  Cuticle  Knife— the 

ao*— 14-K.  Gold  Chased  Knot  Scarf  Pin,  $1.00.  four  pieces  only  fi.co. 

POO— 14-K.  Gold  Pearl  Scarf  Pin,  fc.00  an  —Cut  Glass,  Silver  Mounted  Vinaigrette,  $1  joo. 


Please  mention  McClure's  when  you  write  to  advertisers. 
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Ooinprwine;  the  felt. 


The  Biggest  Lier 
in  the  World, 

no  matter  how  big:  he  is,  or  how  much 
he  likes  to  lie,  will  rest  more  easy  in 
body  (it's  comfortable)  and  in  mind 
(it's  economical)  if  he  lies  on 


The  Ostermoor  Patent 
Elastic  Felt  Mattress, 


15. 


Already  thousands  have  accepted  our  offer  to  prepay  express  charges  and  sell  on  the  distinct  agree- 
ment that  you  may  return  it  and  get  your  money  back  if  not  the  equal  of  any  $50.00  Hair  Mattress  in 
cleanliness,  durability  and  comfort,  and  if  not  satisfactory  in  every  possible  way  at  the  end  of 

THIRTY  NIGHTS'  FREE  TRIAL. 

If  yon  are  skeptical  about  Its  merits  or  don't  need  one 
now,  send  for  our  handsome  Illustrated  pamphlets, 
"The  Test  of  Time,"  and  "Testimonial  Wonders/', 
mailed  free  for  the  asking.   They  give  full  particulars. 


Willkm  Parker,  President.  H.  H.  Stephenson,  Cashier. 

Oil  Cmr  Savbco*  Bank,  Oil  Cut,  pa., 
Mnus.  OeTBBMOOB  6  Go.  March  tt.  1M7. 

Gentlemen  .—The  Patent  BaeUe  Felt  Mattresses  I  bought  from  70a  in 
Ittt,  thirteen  years  aco,  are  still  in  nee  and  (trine;  perfect  ■atistaetion. 
Respectfully  yours,       Iff.  H.  STEPHENSON. 


How  to  order:-  State  exact  else  desired  (sise  6  ft.  t  In.  x  t  ft.  6  la.  win  be  sent  unless  otherwise  speeifled).  If  desind  in  two  pieces  remit 
flfty  earns  extra.  Patent  Elastie  Felt  Mattresses  are  not  for  sale  by  stores  anywhere.  Wretched  imitations  are  offered  by  unscrupulous  dealers — 
please  write  us  If  you  know  of  such  cases.    Reference* :  Bradatreet  or  Dun'*  Ageneie*, 


We  have  cushioned  16,000  churches. 


OSTERMOOR  &  CO.,  1 12  Elizabeth  St*  N.  Y. 


old] 

flight 
Werf 

the  chil- 
covered. 

start  at 
5.  Best 
ods  deal- 
ep  them, 
xee. 

ELTY 

nriNG  co. 


f. 


George 
Washington's 

Sleeve-buttons  were  beauti- 
fully enameled  upon  gold. 
Exact  copies — sleeve-buttons 
no.  ,5,         in  best  taste,  for  fastidious 

wearers — cost  no  more  than  similar  but 

tons  without  associations. 

No.  151.  Gold,  enameled  .  £10.00 
No.  1 50.  Gold,  plain  .  .  8.00 
No.  151.  Silver,  enameled  .  2.00 
No.  150.  Silver,  plain    .     .        .75 

Our  Book 

A  unique  and  most  interest-  Ho.  .50 
ing  publication,  shows  many  other  such 
souvenirs  as  well  as  a  full,  carefully 
selected  list  of  fine  articles  in  gold, 
silver,  brass  and  leather,  for  desk,  home 
and  personal  use.     We  will  send  a  copy, 

free,   on    receipt    of   name 

and  address. 

The    Nevius    Company 

421  Broome  Street,  New  York 


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Silverware  for  Christmas 

THE  GORHAM  COMPANY,  Silversmiths,  Broadway  and  Nine- 
teenth Street,  New  York,  announce  the  completion  of  the  largest, 
most  distinctive,  and  desirable  stock  of  silverware  for  the 
holidays  they  have  ever  exhibited,  and  they  invite  especial 
attention  to  the  unusual  number  of  Christmas  novelties  entirely 
original  with  this  company. 

Their  stock  is  now  presented  in  its  entirety,  and  as  orders 
take  precedence  according  to  the  date  they  are  received,  too  much 
stress  cannot  be  laid  upon  the  advisability  of  early  selections. 


he  Gorham 
Postal  Scale 

[PATENTED] 

IN  STERLING  SILVER 
Price,  $10.00 

Warrant*/  absolute//  accurate 

Indicates  Instantly  and  accu- 
rately the  requisite  amount  of 
postage— In  cents— required  for 
letters,  books,  newspapers, 
circulars,  and  merchandise. 
For  foreign  postage  it  Indi- 
cates the  weight  in  half- 
ounces,  to  the  limit  of  one 
pound.      

GORHAM  MFG.  GO. 

SILVERSMITHS 
Broadway  and  19th  St.,  N.Y. 

The  sterling  silver  wares  made  by  the  Gorham  ~~    ~~ 

Company  are   for  sale  by  the  best  class   of  jewelers 
^roughout  the  United  States,  and  bear  this  trade-mark: 

JreiiuHe 

Please  mention  McClure's  when  you  write  to  advertisers. 

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Folding 


IX  INCHES  THICK. 
MAKE8  PICTURES  2H  X  3%  INCHES. 


Pocket  Kodak 

So  shaped  as  to  go  into  the  pocket  without  inconvenience,  so 
light  as  to  be  no  trouble   when  there,  using  light-proof  film   cart- 
ridges with  which  it  can  be  loaded  in  daylight  and  withal  capable 
of  making  beautiful  pictures  2j^  x  3}^  inches,  the  Folding  Pocket 
Kodak  is  the  embodiment  of  photographic  daintiness  and  utility. 
The  shape  of   the  picture  is  artistic  and  the  quality  perfect, 
because  the  lenses  are  perfect.     These  lenses  have   a  fixed   focus, 
are  strictly  achromatic,  have  wonderful  depth 
and   definition,  and  every  one  must  undergo 
the   most  rigid   tests  by   our  own  inspector 
Every  lens  with  the   slightest  imperfection  is 
unhesitatingly  discarded. 

The  shutter  is  a  marvel  of  simplicity.  It 
is  always  set  and  snap  shots  are  made  by  a 
simple  downward  pressure  on  the  exposure 
lever;  time  exposures  are  made  by  touching 
another  lever  once  to  open  and  again  to  close 
the  shutter.  The  shutter  has  a  set  of  three 
stops  and  there  are  two  finders,  one  for  vertical 
and  one  for  horizontal  exposures. 

Made  of  Aluminum,  covered  with  fine 
black  morocco  with  buffed  brass  fittings. 


PUT  A 

KODAK 

IN  YOUR 

POCKET. 


Price,  Folding  Pocket  Kodak  with  fine  achromatic  lens,  $10.00 
Light-Proof  Film  Cartridge,  12  exposures,  2#  x  8*4,      •     .40 


Put  a  Kodak  on  your  Christmas  List. 
$5.00  to  $25.00. 


Catalogues  free  at  agencies  or  by  mail. 


No  Camera  is  a  KODAK 
unless  manufactured  by 
the  Eastman  Kodak  Co. 


EASTMAN  KODAK  CO. 

Rochester,  N.  Y. 


> 


Please  mention  McClure's  when  you  write  to  advertiser*. 
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McCLURE'S  MAGAZINE. 


"  Ooe  HiuxM  EMPHATIC  EVIDENCES,"  HIc&trtfe<i,  t\M  FREE. 

To  Qive  Positive  Proof  that  our  NINE  STYLES  of 

LEAD   EVERYWHI 

The  only  Combined  Glass  Plate  and  Cut  Film  Cameras. 

lift    ATHFP  tifll  IflAY    f«IFT     *°  equity  »uited  to  the  use  of  any  novice,  man  or  woman,  boy  or  girl.    The 
IW    VinilV  fUJa-HJ/*l     Xm  I      c^^g  for  mothers.    They  take  the  babies  in  every  attitude  of  home  life. 

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Film  Cameras.      ^-     ■*■ ^     1    4  "^**J 


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Meul  Holders. 

Outside  measure,  only 


New 
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within  2}i  feet 


VIVE 


No.  4  VTYK-Siae,  5x5Kx9J4  outside. 


$10.oo  ?m  am  m  Tim  asafiWSKfCS 

A     ir    f*  AIWTTTD  A    camera,  and  is    the   smallest 

4XO     VjiTJVlIlIvri   and   lightest    4x5    instrument 

sold.    It  is  unique  in  being  equipped  with  the  VIVE  Patent  Focusing 

Magazine  for  taking  large  cabinet   bust  photos,  focusing    to 

This  camera  also  takes  50  pictures  without  re-loading,  and  no  addi- 
tional cost  for  Holders. 

VIVE    SPECIAL    FOLDING    CAHERAS. 

in  4x5  and  5x7  sixes,  from  $22.50  to  $%$•<*>,  ^«  light,  compact,  and 
lowest  in  price  for  advantages  offered. 

^Al°^n^HrtCatalogue,.i^^.v^e. 

Beautifully  embossed  mounted  photograph  mailed  with  same  on  re- 
ceipt of  five  cents  in  postage  stamps. 

Vive  Camera  Company, 

HOME  OFFICE,  J53  La  Salic  St*,  Chicago* 

NEW  YORK  OFFICE,  621  Broadway. 
BOSTON  OFFICE,  145aTremont  Street. 


Please  mention  McClurc**  when  you  write  *>  advertisers. 
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MeCLURE>8  MAGAZINE. 


Patented 
May  18,  1897. 


I- Monroe 

POCKET  CAMERA 


Takes  Perfect  Pictures.    For   Plates  or  Films. 
Camera  tested  before  leaving  Factory. 


Every 


SKND  FOR  FRKB  PAMPHLET. 


mention  MrCInre's  when  you  write  to 
60 


MONROE    CAMERA   CO. 
33  North  Water  Street,  Rochester,  N.  Y. 

wwwwwwwwwww9w^pwsvwwwwww9wwww 


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-^     FATHER  CHRISTMAS  carries  no  more  acceptable  present  than  a 

f|  PREMO  CAMERA 

\i*0  '     Pre-eminently  the  instrument  for  those  who  have  become  dissatisfied  with  ordinary  results  of 
v--9h  >  nary  cameras  and  want  something  better— a  good  deal  better— the  best  there  is. 

~^*  -       Tbe  PREMO  is  the  Camera  that  lasts— the  Camera  that  yo*  dra't  outgrow. 
rr-^'    $5  to  $50.    Catalogues  and  specimens  ef  werkaja  agplismtiosi 

**fKHBSTER  OPTICAL  COMPANY,  42  South  St,  Rochester,  N.  Y. 

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McCLVRES  MAGAZINE. 


History  Repeats  Itself 

Last  autumn  we  took  an  entire  edition  of  RIDPATH'S  HISTORY  OF 
THE  WORLD,  and  secured  concessions  from  the  publishers  that  enabled  us 
to  sell  this  greatest  of  histories  at  one-half  the  lowest  price  ever  made  before. 
To  bring  this  great  work  for  study,  reference,  and  entertainment  within  the 
reach  of  every  man  and  woman  of  honest  purpose,  we  undertook  to  form 

The  Wanamaker  History  Club 

each  member  to  receive  the  complete  set  of  eight  massive  volumes  on  payment  of 
membership  fee,  One  Dollar,  the  balance  to  be  paid  in  small  monthly  instalments. 
The  acceptances  of  this  remarkable  offer  were  so  many  that  the  Club  was 
quickly  filled,  and  thousands  would  have  been  disappointed  at  being  shut  out 
had  not  Dr.  Ridpath  generously  consented  to  our  being  supplied  with  another 
smaller  edition.  These,  too,  are  being  subscribed  for  rapidly,  and  we  are  assured 
by  the  publishers  that  the  History  will  never  again  be  sold  at  the  price  we  now 
offer.      There  will  twt  be  another  edition  at  these  / rices. 

ONE    DOLLAR 


secures  immediate  delivery  of  the  whole  eight-volume  set  in  any  binding,  you 
agreeing  to  make  1 5  monthly  payments — first  payment  30  days  after  joining — 
for  the  cloth  bound,  $1.50  a  month  ;  for  the  half-Russia — by  far  the  more  durable 
and  attractive — $2  a  month  ;  for  sumptuous  full  morocco,  $2.50  a  month. 

Members  may  resign  and  return  their  books  within  ten  days,  and  Club  fee 
will  be  returned.  Boolcs  delivered  free  where  our  wagons  run.  We  pay  no 
freight  or  express  charges. 

John  Clark  Ridpath.  LL.D.,  the  eminent  scholar,  writer, 

and  thinker,  put  a  lifetime  of  study  and  labor  in  preparing 

his  History  of  the  World.    The  publishers  invested  a  fortune 

in  the  illustrations  and  plates. 

There  are  EIGHT  MASSIVE  VOLUMES,  6,soo  large 

double-column  pages,  the  equivalent  of  30  ordinary  octavo 

books  of  500  pages.    Nearly  4.000  maps,  chronological  and 

genealogical  charts,  race  plates  and  race  charts  in  u  colors, 
L  eogravings  and  reproductions  from  originals  by  the  great 
r*\  asters  of  European  and  American  art  illustrate  and  enforce 

the  text,  and  form  the  greatest  gallery  of  historical  pictures 

ever  brought  together. 

Every  important  name  and  event  since  the  world  began  is 

adequately  treated.     Every  nation  and  every  race,  existing 

or  extinct,  ancient,   medieval,  and    modern,  receives  due 

description.     Remarkably  complete  indices  bring  every  name 

and  fact  within  ready  finding.  i 

President  McKinley  and  ex-President  Harrison  heartily  indorse  and  recommend  Rid- 
path's  History  of  the  World.  So  do  more  than  500  college  presidents  and  professors, 
thinkers,  statesmen,  and  critics. 

Large,  open  type,  careful  printing,  heavy  super-calendered  paper,  and  strong  and  beau- 
tiful binding,  make  the  books  mechanically  just  right 

Sample  pages  with  colored  plate,  illustrations,  testimonials,  and  full  information  free  on 
request     Send  or  bring  your  dollar  to  either  store. 

nmam    JOHN  WANAMAKER      n^y,* 


Equal  space  is  given  to  describing  the  real  life  of  the 
plain  people.  The  makers  of  history  are  portrayed  as  fully 
as  their  public  achievements.  Part  one  is  Mankind ;  Part 
two.  Na/i&nj.  No  other  general  history  covers  the  former 
at  all ;  none  treats  the  latter  as  fully  or  successfully. 

Dr.  Rid  path's  literary  style  it  peculiarly  graphic,  graceful, 
and  fascinating.  Open  a  volume  at  random,  your  interest  Is 
immediately  enlisted,  and  other  days* live  again  in  the 
author's  moving  worn-pictures. 

This  is  not  an  old  edition,  but  Is  fresh  from  the  printers 
and  down  to  date,  including  such  recent  events  as  the  wars 
between  China  and  Japan,  Greece  and  Turkey,  Spain  and 
Cuba,  the  Queen's  Jubilee,  etc.,  etc. 

The  plays  of  Shakespeare  do  not  surpass  other  dramas 
more  than  Ridpath's  History  of  the  World  overtops  all 
general  histories. 


m 


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IRECTOPY  fc?  advertise: 


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•J*HfS  U  a  facsimile  of  the  firrt  page  of  the  «ixteen-pa*e  book  supplement  which  accompanies  every  Saturday  edition  of  the  Naw 
York  Tinas.    Be«t  and  least  expensive  literary  news  publication  in  the  world.    Om  Dollar  per  year. 


THI   NIW   YORK   TIMIS.  45  Park  Row.  Now  York. 

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McCLURE'S  MAGAZINE. 


"Personal  Attention" 

THE  APPEAL  TO  LITTLENESS. 

A  correspondent  writes : — "And  beside  this,  they  (A.  B,  6*  Co.,  Advertising 
Agents  J  promise,  in  event  of  getting  our  order y  to  give  it  their  personal  attention" 

Well !  Well !  Well !  Do  they,  indeed  !  And  has  the  "  personal  attention  " 
man  got  around  to  you?     If  so,  we  are  prompted  to  say 

A  WORD  CONCERNING  HIM.  Who  is  he?  A.  B.  &  Co.,  you  say.  Then  there 
is  more  than  one  of  him.  Why  is  this  ?  His  u  personal  attention  "  should 
shut  out  all  other  persons.  If  not,  wherein  is  he  superior  to  other  business 
men — or  to  ordinary  business  conditions ?  Is  he  singular  or  plural?  Has 
he  one  office,  or  more  than  one,  and  long  distance  apart?  Who  is 
attending  to  his  other  lines  while  he  is  offering  the  u  personal  attention" 
hook  to  you  ? 

A  WORD  CONCERNING  YOU.  Who  are  you?  A  business  man  of  course.  How 
is  it  in  your  line?  Do  you  regard  the  co-operation  of  others,  or  the  posses- 
sion of  capital,  organization,  and  facilities,  as  obstacles  to  success,  or  reasons 
why  trade  should  be  given  to  those  without  them  ?  Is  the  trend  of  business 
in  general  towards  the  one  man,  or  one  horse,  idea  ?  Think  of  this  maga- 
zine, for  instance,  as  it  is,  and  as  it  would  be  under  the  "personal  attention" 
plan. 

A  WORD  CONCERNING  OURSELVES.  Our  business  is  based  on  attention,  consists 
of  attention — the  constant  attention  of  trained  and  competent  persons  to 
every  phase  and  operation  of  newspaper  and  magazine  advertising.  The 
amount  we  are  doing  should,  we  think,  afford  some  indication  of  what 
advertisers  think  of  the  kind  of  attention  we  give.  If  the  u  personal  atten- 
tion" pleader  is  right,  we  are  wrong,  our  clients  are  wrong,  and  business 
enterprise  and  progress  are  all  wrong.    How  does  it  strike  you  ? 

A  WORD  IN  CONCLUSION.  Perhaps  this  may  be  regarded  as  a  long  discourse  on 
a  slight  text.  Perhaps  it  is.  Perhaps  you  may  never  meet  the  u  personal 
attention  "  man  on  his  lonely  rounds.  Perhaps  you  may.  Certain  it  is  we 
feel  better  for  having  filed  our  protest  against  his  appeal  to  littleness. 
Certain  it  is  also  that  we  shall  settle  right  down  again  to  work  6n  our  own 
lines — and  keep  everlastingly  at  it  too.  We  have  the  disposition  and  ability 
to  give  attention  to  you,  and  to  what  you  want  done.  Send  us  your 
address  and  see. 


Newspaper  Advertising* 
Magazine  Advertising. 


N.  W.  AYER  &  SON, 

Philadelphia. 


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Klondike: 


y 


THE  CHICAGO  RECORD'S 
BOOK  FOR  GOLD-SEEKERS 

424  pages.    Nearly  100  illustrations. 

Gives  location  of  all  gold  fields  in  Alaska  and  British 
Yukon  country. 

How  to  get  to  them. 

What  it  costs  to  reach  them,  with  necessary  outfit. 

What  to  do  when  you  get  there. 

How  to  prospect  for  gold. 

Every  route  described  in  detail,  with  good  clear  maps 
and  complete  tables  of  distances. 

Mining  laws  and  land  regulations  of  United  States 
and  Canada  complete. 

Method  of  procedure  in  locating  and  filing  claims. 

In  addition,  a  great  store  of  miscellaneous  information 
of  great  interest  and  educational  value. 

Complete  and  exhaustive  index. 

No  expense  has  been  spared  to  make  'THE  CHICAGO 
RECORD'S  BOOK  FOR  GOLD-SEEKERS  "  in- 
dispensable to  the  prospective  gold-seeker  and  a 
treasure  for  every  library.  Of  a  high  order  in  a  lit- 
erary, typographical  and  artistic  sense.  Bound  in 
art  canvas,  with  beautiful  cover  design  in  three 
colors. 

Mailed  postpaid  on  receipt  of  $1 .00 by  THE  CHICAGO 
RECORD,  181  Madison  St.,  Chicago. 


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McCLUBE'S  MAGAZINE. 


(HiaGOftNORTHWESTERN  RAILWAY 

cstrmaory 


F.E.&M.V.R.R. 

AND 

S.C&P.K 


"The  Overland  Limited" 

Comprising  Buffet,  Smoking  and  Library  Cars,  Palace 
Drawing  Room  Sleeping  Cars,  Tourist  Sleeping  Cars 
and  Dining  Cars  (meals  "a  la  carte") 

Leaves  Chicago  at  6.00  p.  m. 

EVERY  DAY  IN  THE  YEAR 


«./!_      At. 


-\  Chicago,  Union  Pacific  &  North -Western  Line 
and  reaches 


%  Days 


All  agents  sell  tickets  via  this  route. 

PRINCIPAL  OFFICES: 

rORKJSl^^  MtMVS£Zl£™umMU  CtoCAGO"1"01"*^ 


mauifcst. 


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MeCLURE*8  MAGAZINE. 


Something: 

the  others 
haven't. 


1 


The  Lake  Shore  &  Michigan  Southern  Railway 

presents  a  great  advantage  for  travelers  to  Chicago 

afforded  by  no  other  line  from  the  east. 

It  is  the  only  eastern  line  having  a  station  on  the  Union  Elevated  Loop. 

AM  Elevated  Trains  stop  directly  at  the  Lake  Shore  Station  in  Chicago, 

furnishing  a  quick  and  cheap  service  to  nearly  all  parts  of  that  city. 

18Q8    CflleildflrS  made  t0  rePresent  a  government  mail  pouch 
and  printed  in  brown  and  gold  on  enameled 


*  card  sent  on  receipt  of  eight  cents  in  postage,  by 

♦  A.  J.  SMITH,  General  Passenger  and  Ticket  Agent,  Cleveland,  O.     ^ 

^44444444444444444444444444444444444444444«44444££ 


"Anwlos's  Rrttat  Railroad" 

■  •  •  HAS  ■  -  • 

6  Trains  Each  Day  Between 

New  York 

and  Chicago 

MORNINO,  NOON  AND  NIGHT, 
FORENOON,  AFTERNOON,   EVENINO. 

Via  NEW  YORK  CENTRAL 


3  Trains  Bach  Day  Between 

New  York 

and  St.  Louis 

SOUTHWESTERN  LIMITED, 

WESTERN  EXPRESS, 

NIOHT  PAST  MAIL. 

Via  NEW  YORK  CENTRAL 


COINC  TO 
ALASKA? 

Looking  for  Brand  Sconory  ? 
Want  to  Bot  Rich  ?    Yes  ? 

Then  write  to  the  Pacific  Coast  Steamship 
Company,  San  Francisco,  for  "  How  to  reach 
the  Gold  Fields  of  Alaska,"  «*  Answers 
to  every  day  queries,"  **  Hap  of  Alas- 
ka,"  "Alaska  Excursion!,"  and  other 
publications,  all  free.    Total  postage,  zo  cents. 

Remember  that  this  company  operates  over  20  steam- 
ships— has  been  running  to  Alaska  the  year  round  for 
over  20  years — is  the  U.  S.  Mail  and  Alaska  express 
carrier — has  steamers  especially  built  for  the  Alaska 
route — has  the  experienced  pilots  and  officers  who  are 
familiar  with  the  intricate  navigation  of  the  inland 
route — runs  steamers  to  all  principal  Pacific  coast  ports 
from  Mexico  to  Alaska  inclusive.  Travelers  who  re- 
gard their  time  and  their  safety  as  of  value  will  see  to  it 
that  their  tickets  read  over  the  Pacific  Coast  Steamship 
Company's  line. 

800DALL,  PERKINS  ft  CO.,  Btntral  Agtnts 


SAN   FRANCISCO,   CAL. 

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McCLURST8  MAGAZINE. 


34th 

Annual  Statement 


OF  THE 


TRAVELERS 

INSURANCE  COMPANY. 

Chartered  1863.  (Stock.)  Lift  art  Acciieit  Iisiruce. 

JAMES  G-  BATTERSON,  Pw^t 


Hartford,  Conn.,  January  i,  1898. 


PAID-UP  CAPITAL, 


$1,000,000. 


ASSETS. 

Real  Estate. $1,994,465.31 

Casta  on  hand  and  in  bank,        ....  1,365,41^.^3 

Loans  on  bond  and  mortgage,  rea.  estate,     -  5,908,610.72 

Interest  accrued  but  not  due,  -       -       -       •  227,730.38 

Loans  on  collateral  security,    ....  945,400.94 

Loans  on  this  Company's  Policies,  ...  1,106,580.51 

Deferred  Life  Premiums,         ....  299,990.19 

Prems.  due  and  unreported  on  Life  Policies,  228,448.75 

United  States  Bonds, 14,000.00 

State,  county,  and  municipal  bonds,      -       -  3,612,646.78 

Railroad  stocks  and  bonds,       ....  4,664,205.75 

Rank  stocks, 1.064,047.00 

Other  stocks  and  bonds, 1,449,455.00 


Total  Assets, 


.  •92,868,994.16 


LIABILITIES. 

Reserve,  4  per  cent..  Life  Department,          -  $16,650,062.00 

Reserve  for  Re-insurance,  Accident  Dep't,  -  1,365,817.22 

Present  Value,  Instalment  Life  Policies,      -  426,288.00 

Resorve  for  Claims  resisted  for  Employers,  299,066.30 

Losses  unadjusted, 269,794.94 

Life  Premiums  paid  in  advance,      ...  25,330.58 

Special  Reserve  for  unpaid  taxes,  rents,  eU\,  110,000.00 

Total  Liabilities,     - 

Excess  Security  to  Policy-holders,  - 

Surplus  to  Stockholders,    -       -       - 


-  •19,146,359.04 

-  •3,722,635.12 

-  •2,722,635.12 


STATISTICS    TO    DATE. 

Life  Department. 
Life  Insurance  in  force,    ...       .•91,882,210.00 
New  Life  Insurance  written  in  1897,       -     14,507,249.00 
Insurance  issued  under  the  Annuity  Plan  is  entered  at 
the  commuted  value  thereof  as  required  by  law. 
Returned  to  Policy-holders  in  1897.  -        1,235,585.39 

Returned  to  Policy-holders  since  1864,   -     13,150,350.57 

Accident  Department. 
Number  Accident  Claims  paid  in  1897,    -       •  15,611 

Whole  numt>er  Accident  Claims  paid,    -       -  307,990 

Returned  to  Policy-holders  in  1897,  -     •1,381,906.81 

Returned  to  Policy-holders  since  1864,    •     21,210,095.96 


Returned  to  Policy-holders  in  1897, 
Returned  to  Policy-holders  since  1864, 


•2,617,492.20 
34,360,626.53 


GEORGE  ELLIS,  Secretary. 
JOHN  E.  MORRIS,  Ass't  Secretary. 

EDWARD  V.  PRESTON,  Sup't  of  Agencies. 

J.  B.  LEWIS,  M.D.,  Surgeon  and  Adjuster. 
SYLVESTER  C.  DUNHAM,  Counsel. 


i 


m  CAUL 

UAZAR* 
PrVTTERHS 

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Oriqmal. Perfect- Fitt*m<\ « 
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MS  CALL 

MUGKZAY 

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=  r  ITALY  an 

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MeCLITRB'8  MAGAZINE. 


DOOlV       lYlOIXCVe     book  money  go  farthest? 

This  is  a  question  that  every  book  lover  is  constantly  grappling  with.  The  Union  Library 
Association  solves  this  perplexing  question  in  an  ideal  manner,  for  the  Association  was  organized 
for  the  distinct  purpose  of  supplying  direct  to  the  people  all  books,  of  every  description  whatsoever 
that  are  sold  in  the  trade,  at  wholesale  prices.  We  cannot  better  demonstrate  what  we  can  do  for 
our  members  than  to  make  public  the  following  letter  from  Mr.  George  H.  Warner,  Associate  Editor  of 
that  magnificent  work,  A  library  of  the  World's  Best  Literature,  of  which  his  brother,  Mr.  Charles 
Dudley  Warner,  is  Editor-in-Chief.     Mr.  Warner  writes  as  follows : — 


N«w  York,  December  30th,  1897. 
Tire  Union  Library  Association.  Nmw  York  City. 

Grntlrmin  : — In  the  course  of  the  past  two  years  I  have  had  frequent  occasion  to  boy  books  of  roar 
Association,  and  I  wish  to  say  that  I  have  been  very  much  surprised  at  the  low  prices  at  which  you  sell 
books.    Some  of  the  discounts  from  the  regular  prices  which  I  have  obtained  are  really  startling  in  amount. 

In  order  to  fully  test  your  prices,  I  recently  selected  a  dozen  standard  publications  and  submitted  a  list 
of  them  to  four  of  the  largest  bookselling  establishments  in  New  York,  including  a  department  store,  a 
second-hand  establishment,  and  two  regular  book-stores.  My  list  aggregated  at  retail  prices,  £63.75,  and 
the  best  offer  I  got  from  any  of  the  four  sources  was  $47*75.  more  than  double  your  price,  for  I  bought 
them  of  your  Association  for  £22.47.  My  list  was  selected  from  different  departments  of  literature,  and  I  re- 
gard it  as  a  good  test  of  the  savins  that  may  be  made  by  buying  of  the  Association. 

Knowing  the  management  and  workings  of  the  Association  as  1  do,  I  fully  recommend  book  buyers  to 
become  members  of  it.  Very  truly  yours,  GEORGE  H.  WARNER. 


In  order  to  introduce  the  Association  into  every  section  of  the  country,  we  have  concluded 
to  offer,  for  a  limited  time,  a  MEMBERSHIP  FREE  to  all  who  will  order  from  us  any  one  of  the 
following  standard  and  well-known  books.  They  are  in  all  cases  the  regular  copyright  editions,  and 
are  published  by  such  leading  publishers  as  The  Century  Co.,  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons,  The  Macmillan  Co.,  Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.,  Little,  Brown  &  Co.,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  etc. 

Regular  Membership  fee     Both 
price  ~~~  — ~-  *— 

Quo  Vadls.    By  Slenktewicz.     Authorized  ed.,  iamo,  clnth   -  $1.00 

Hog!)  Wynne.    By  Dr.  Mitchell.    Two  volumes,  iamo,  dotn  -  2.00 

The  Choir  Invisible.    By  James  Lane  Allen.  ^6mo,  cloth       -  1.30 

Shrewsbury.    By  Stanley  J.  Weyman.    iamo,  cloth.  Just  pub'd  1.50 

A  Desert  Drama.    By  Conan  Doyle,    iamo,  doth.  Just  pub'd     -  1.50 

The  Story  of  Jesus  Christ.    By  Elisabeth  5.  Phelps.    8 vo,  cloth  a^o 

Soldiers  of  Fortune.    By  R  H.  Davis,    iamo,  cloth  -  1.50 

In  Kedar's Tents.    By  H.  S.  Merrlman.    iamo,  cloth       -  -  i.ag 

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...A  GREAT  AMERICAN  ENTERPRISE... 

A  Masterly  Presentation  of  American  Civilization! 


ii 


A  ppletons' 
^V  Cyclopaedia  of 

American  Biography. 


A  new  edition,  revised  to  1898. 


A  Complete  History 

efths 

United  States 

Including,  all  Portion* 

•f  North  aod  South 

America, 

Political,  Social, 

Commercial, 
and  Industrial. 


SOME  DISTINGUISHED 
CONTRIBUTORS. 

Adams,  Charles  Kendall, 

President  of  Cornell  University. 
Bayard.  Tbomaa  P., 

Secretary  of  State. 

Bradley.  Joseph  P., 

Justice  United  State*  Supreme  Court. 

Brooks,  Phillips, 

Author  "Sermons  In  English 
Churches." 
Cortto,  Otorae  William, 

Author  and  Editor. 

Mx.  Morgan, 

Rector  of  Trinity  Church,  Hew  York. 

Flake,  John, 

Author  and  Prof emor. 

Oerry.  Blbrldjre  T., 

Member  of  Mew  York  Bar. 

Oilmen.  Daniel  C, 

President  of  Johns  Hopkins  Univer- 
sity. 
Hale,  Edward  Everett, 

Author  of  "  Franklin  in  France. n 

Hay. John, 

Author  "  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln." 

tflgglnson.  Col.  Thomas  W.,  _, 

Author    "History   of    the    United 

States." 
Holmes,  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell, 

Author  and  Poet. 
Howe,  Mrs.  Jnlla  Ward, 

Author  •*  Later  Lyrics." 
Lathrop.  Qeorire  Parsons, 

Author  M  A  Study  of  Hawthorne." 
Lincoln.  Robert  T., 

Ex-Secretary  of  War. 
Lodge,  Henry  Cabot, 

Author  "  Life  of  Hamilton." 
Lowell.  James  Russell. 

Late  Mintater  to  Great  Britain. 

McMsster.  John  Bach. 

Author  "  History  of  the  People  of  the 
United  8tat«s." 

Parkman,  Francis, 

Author  "Frontenac"  and  ' 
in  Canada." 

Romero,  Mettlas, 

Mexican    Minister   to    the 

States. 
Smith,  Cherts*  Emory, 

Editor  Philadelphia  Pi*—. 
Stedman,  Edmund  C, 

Poet  and  Critic. 
Warner,  Charles  Dudley, 

Author  and  Journalist. 

Whlttler,  John  OreenloaJ, 

Author  and  Poet. 

Yonng.  John  Russell, 

Author  and  Joumahat. 

Wlnthrep,  Robert  C, 

Ex-United  States  Senator. 


United 


THE  Messrs.  Appleton  have  in  coarse  of  publication  a  modern 
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particular — a  compendium  of  the  lives  of  all  those  noble  men  and 
women  who  evolved  from  the  crude  continent  discovered  by  Columbus, 
the  glorious  constellation  of  republics  that  now  give  protection  to  mil- 
lions of  free  men  and  harbor  the  advance  arts  of  a  great  civilization.  In 
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