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COPVKIGIIT, 1097, BY
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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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THE COLUMBIA CHAINLESS.
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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Vlll
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.
Digitized by VjOOQLC
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
Digitized by VjOOQLC
8
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
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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-
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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
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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
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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."
Digitized by VjOOQIC
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
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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.
Digitized by
Google
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.
Digitized by
Google
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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ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
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"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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36
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.
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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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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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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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AN UNJUST ACCUSATION.
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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48
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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5°
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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ROBERT BARR.
5i
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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52
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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ROBERT BARR.
5*
" 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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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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SWEETHEARTS AND WIVES.
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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SWEETHEARTS AND WIVES.
59
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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62
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.
70
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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A FRENCH CM TIC'S IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA.
7i
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.
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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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76
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.
77
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-
Google
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78
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.
79
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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8o
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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82
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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EDISON'S DEVOLUTION IN IRON MINING,
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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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84
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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86
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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EDISON' S REVOLUTION IN IRON MINING.
87
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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9°
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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92
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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io4
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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RUDYARD KIPLING.
*°5
* 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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RUDYARD KIPLING.
107
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
^Digitized by LjOOgLe
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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Google
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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Google
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
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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
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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
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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."
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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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■A
rt
j c . p£ ^ tTSBte^.
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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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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
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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
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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,
Digitized by VjOOQlC
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,
Digitized by LjOOQlC
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-
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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! "
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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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140
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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THE ARCHBISHOP'S CHRISTMAS GIFT.
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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'44
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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ROBERT BARR.
MS
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
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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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ROBERT BARR.
H7
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-
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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
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*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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156
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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l62
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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164
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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1 68
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.
169
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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170
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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173
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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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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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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HYMNS THAT HAVE HELPED.
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.
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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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IN UNEXPLORED ASIA.
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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182
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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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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1 84
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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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1 86
IN UNEXPLORED ASIA.
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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1 88
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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190
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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194
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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JANUARY
Vol. X. Xo. 3
PRIC
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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
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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.
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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
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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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204
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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2o6
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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208
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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2IO
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."
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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
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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,
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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
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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 ? "
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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
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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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224
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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ROBERT BARR.
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,
Digitized by
Google
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,
Digitized by
Google
*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
Digitized by
Google
ROBERT BARR.
*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.
Digitized by
Google
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.
Digitized by
Google
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.
Digitized by
G©c
236
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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ANTHONY HOPE.
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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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ANTHONY HOPE.
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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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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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ANTHONY HOPE.
241
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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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,
*44
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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244
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
Digitized by VjOOQIC
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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A CHARACTER SKETCH BY ROBERT BARR.
249
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
49-
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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252
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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CHARLES A. DANA'S REMINISCENCES.
263
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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SAIRY SPENCER 'S REVOLT.
271
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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272
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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SAIRY SPENCER'S REVOLT.
273
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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SAIRY SPENCER'S REVOLT.
275
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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276
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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ACCORDIN* TO SOLOMON.
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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ACCORDIN' TO SOLOMON.
287
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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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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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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294
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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296
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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298
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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300
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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302
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
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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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3oS
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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THE WEE TAY TABLE,
309
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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'M*
An' won't shave more'n once a week.
3i°
THE WEE TAY TABLE.
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! "
7
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THE WEE TAY TABLE.
3"
" 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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THE WEE TAY T'ABLE.
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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THE WEE TAY TABLE.
3*3
" 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'
Digitized by
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314
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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316
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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3»S
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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FROM THE DIARY OF HIS PRIVATE SECRETARY.
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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FROM THE DIARY OF HIS PRIVATE SECRETARY.
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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324
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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ANTHONY HOPE.
3*5
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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ANTHONY HOPE.
327
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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RUPERT OF HENTZAU.
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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ANTHONY HOPE.
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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.
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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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ANTHONY HOPE.
335
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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RUPERT OF HENTZAU.
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.
337
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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34Q
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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34*
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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354
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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35*
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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360
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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364
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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366
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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368
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
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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
Digitized by VjOOQIC
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.
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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
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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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38o
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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3»2
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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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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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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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
Digitized by VjOOQIC
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
Digitized by
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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
Digitized by
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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
Digitized by VjOOQLC
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.
Digitized by VjOOQIC
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
Digitized by VjOOQlC
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."
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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
Digitized by
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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
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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.
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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-
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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
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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
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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
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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
Digitized by
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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
Digitized by
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412
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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^Google
414
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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LETTERS FROM THE AN DREE PARTY.
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-
Digitized by VjOOQIC
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
Digitized by VjOOQIC
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.
Digitized by
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4i8
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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WHERE JS ANDR&E1
4*3
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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424
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
4*5
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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426
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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43<>
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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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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434
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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CHARLES A. DANA S REMINISCENCES.
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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CHARLrS A. DANA'S REMINISCENCES.
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
Digitized by VjOOQIC
44Q
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
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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-
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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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446
HO, FOR THE KLONDIKE!
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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HAMLIN GARLAND.
447
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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448
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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HAMLIN GARLAND.
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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.
45*
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.
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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.
459
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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RUPERT OF HENTZAU.
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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ANTHONY HOPE.
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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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RUPERT OF HENTZAU
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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ANTHONY HOPE,
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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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RUPERT OF HENTZAU.
" 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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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.
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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
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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! '
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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
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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 ? "
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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,
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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
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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
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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^"
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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
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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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480
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
Digitized by
Google
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."
Digitized by
Google
# 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
Digitized by
Google
Digitized by
Google
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.
Digitized by
Google
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.
Digitized by *
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486
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.
Digitized by
Google
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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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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S 1
t £
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.
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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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A ROMANCE OF WALL STREET.
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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'KING FOR A DAY."
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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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"KING FOR A DAY.*9
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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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''KING FOR A DAY:
" 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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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."
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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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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
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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
Digitized by
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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
Digitized by
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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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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,
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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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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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THE ROW OF DOMINOES,
5*7
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 ROW OF DOMINOES.
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 ROW OF DOMINOES.
5*9
• 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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THE ROW OF DOMINOES.
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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THE ROW OF DOMINOES.
53»
. . 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 ROW OF DOMINOES.
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.
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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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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
Digitized by VjOOQIC
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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MORGAN ROBERTSON.
545
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.
Digitized by
Google
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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ANTHONY HOPE.
549
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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55°
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
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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
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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."
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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.}
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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-
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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.
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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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CHARLES A. DANA'S REMINISCENCES.
563
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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564
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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568
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.
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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."
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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-
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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
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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
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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."
Digitized by '
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
Digitized by VjOOQlC
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
Google
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
Digitized by
Google
57»
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."
«THAT VOrXO LADY WA* CURLED UP LIKE A KITTEN. SOUND ASLEEP.
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58 Forest Street, Rutland, Vermont, September 20, 1897.
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Silverware for Christmas
THE GORHAM COMPANY, Silversmiths, Broadway and Nine-
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I- Monroe
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Camera tested before leaving Factory.
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SKND FOR FRKB PAMPHLET.
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request Send or bring your dollar to either store.
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XIW TOOK. SATURDAY. DECEMBER U. MW.
TWttTY-fOW PACE1
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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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MoCLURB'S MAGAZINE.
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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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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r^Br\q\vV , Up -Vo -D a
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THEHc-CAU-C0MPWT
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RflYC PAPER KK^H=^=
BACK NUMBERS OF ALL MAGAZINc*. Stai
American Magazwh Exchange. St. Ixxm, M
BUSINESS i*^
Book-keeping, Shortaand, Composition. Strlaltesso
lka C«tm»— «e— Lmcm, Depi. B, Vmi— (Mltfa, tttCksata
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MEDITERRAr>
\ all necessary expenses
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EUROPE
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JAPAN
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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
The Christian. By Hall Calne. iamo, cloth ... 1.50
Bird Neighbors. Large 8 vo, cloth ..... a.oo
The Meal Life. By Prof. Henry Drummond. iamo, cloth - 1.50
The books in all cases to be sent postage or expressage paid by the Association. It will readily be
seen how liberal is our proposition — you simply purchase one Of the above-named works at retail
price and obtain a membership, when vou will be enabled to purchase any of the thousands of other
books at wholesale price. By wholesale we mean at discounts averaging from 30 to 60 per cent., de-
pending upon the book, the publisher, and the conditions of purchase. The Association has
inaugurated a scries of
SPECIAL SALES
and issues several special sale catalogues every year, which are sent free to members. Special Sale
No. 14 was issued recently and contains hundreds of standard books from the best publishers at
discounts ranging all the way up to 75 per cent. It will, therefore, be readily seen how important
it is that you should become a member without delay, and obtain this catalogue.
The Association also does a very large business in Stationery, and furnishes all kinds of fine writing papers and en-
graved work at wholesale rates. Moreover, orders for all the leading Periodicals are taken, our prices being lower than can
be obtained elsewhere.
The Association is NOT AN EXPERIMENT, having been in existence for nsarlyfifUen ytars. The
. . rietors and managers are old and experienced publishers and booksellers who have exceptional facilities for buying, so
that the Association is in a position to fully cai * " ' " "~ -— . . - -
one year
for
$3.00
$1.00
3.00
a.oo
3.00
1.30
3.00
1.30
3.00
1.50
3.00
a.oo
3.00
1.30
3.00
i.a*
3.00
1.50
3.00
a.oo
3.00
1.50
proprietors and managers are old and experienced publishers a
that the Association is in a position to fully carry out its agreement with its members.
prices than any concern In the United Stati
, and our establishment is one of the busiest in
All orders and communications should be addressed to
In short, to sell books wX lower
ates. Our members receive prompt, careful, and intelligent attention in all
cases, and our establishment is one of the busiest in all of busy Greater New York.
THE UNION
Reference : COMMERCIAL A0ENCIE5.
LIBRARY ASSOCIATION,
91 and 93 Fifth Avenue, NEW YORK.
P. S.— Last month we offered to the first 1,000 McCLURE readers who sent in their orders a fully paid-up member-
ship for three years. These were so quickly taken by nearby readers that many of those residing at a distance were dis-
appointed. We have concluded to again offer a three-year membership to the first 1 ,000 applicants this month, but these w ill
be allotted according to date and postmark of letters, so that distant readers may have an equal opportunity with those living
near New York. Please bear in mind that a membership is not issued except in connection with one of the above-named
books.— The U. L. A.
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bzvaxty $ 0$
any address in this country for 75 cents per month
; OFFICE: 206-210 BROADWAY, NEW YORK *
Mrs. L. V. A. writes: MIf I knew I was to be tne mother of
Innumerable children It would have no terrors for me, so
great is my confidence in the science of TOKOLOGY."
A complete health guide by
ALICK B. &TOCKHAM, M. D., in
practice over twenty-five years.
Best Terms to Agents.
Sample pages free.
PtIPAII, MM. 12.75. III.I2J5.
An editor writes: TOKOLOGY should be In
the hands of every woman. It is unequaled In
Its practical scientific advice to women.
TOKOLOGY
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No. 18W.
..READ THIS..
GOLDEN SHBAF BAKERY.
Berkeley. Cal . Jan. 13, 1898
The Prentiss Clock Imp. 60 . *i. Y. Cftv.
Gentlemen : The clock I bought of you in
November last has been running so satisfac
tori.y thst 1 feel it my duty to thank you for
•uch an excellent piece of mechanism. I had
no troub'e in pu'ting it up, and from that time
to the present it has kep* perfect time It s
a treasure I have long wanted and one that I
now highly priie
Yours tru y thankful, J G.WRIGHT
Mr. Wright has a 60-day Calendar Clock like
cut and paid tio 20 for it, sending his check
with his order. His testimonial is entirely un-
solicited.
We also make Electric and Program
Clocks, Prying Pan, Tile Clocks, etc.
THE PRENTISS CLOCK
IMPROVEMENT CO.
"Dept. 18, 49 Dey St., New York City
The Mosler Safe Co.
. FIRE-PROOF AND
BURGLAR -PROOF
SAFES
Special Safes for Private Houses
ALSO
Special Plate Safes for Silverware,etc.
Contractors to the United States and
Mexican Governments.
Plans, Specifications and Estimates Fur-
nished on All Kinds of Vault and Safety
Deposit Work.
THE MOSLER SAFE CO.
305 Broadway, New York.
RUN-A-BOUT WAGON
WITH PNEUMATIC TIRES.
Write for our largo Catalogue,
H. H. BABCOCK COMPANY,
CARRIAGE BUILDERS.
Mention McClure's. WATERTOWN, N. Y.
= Peoria
Heralds
DAILY— SUNDAY-WEEKLY
is recognized as
the
newspaper of Illinois (outside Chicago).
*'A very much better newspaper than
it has ever been before " is the motto
for 1898.
New York.
H.D.UC0STE,
Manager.
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MtCLXTBFS MAGAZINE.
...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
and enlarged edition of their Cyclopaedia of American Biog-
raphy. It is a work national in character, American in every
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
no other form, certainly none so complete, so reliable, so readable, and
so instructive, has the information here contained ever been collated
before.
The editors and publishers have spared no pains or expense to
make this work as valuable and as nearly perfect as possible. Under
the direction of General James Grant Wilson and Prof. John Fiske are
associated as consulting editors many of the most eminent of their
contemporaries in Church and State, in law and literature, in the
army and navy, in art and music, and the field of invention and science.
n^h* Library contains about 2,000 illustrations \ on woody of natives and
foreigners, whose acts have contributed to American history, with
illustrations of their homes, birthplaces, monuments, etc., forming a most
valuable and attractive portrait gallery of illustrious Americans.
As, according to Emerson, " all history is made up of biography,"
this work is in reality not only a complete history of the United States,
but of all portions of North and South America. For the purpose of
advertising and popularizing this new edition, a special introductory
offer will be made.
An advance fee of ONLY ONE DOLLAR (to cover
expense of boxing, expressage, etc.) entitles you
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scription of a dollar and a half ($1.50) monthly for
twelve months ; or, for the half-morocco edition,
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cents ($3.50) each. The initial fee of one dollar
in each case is guaranteed to cover delivery ex-
penses In all sections of the United States and
Canada.
Send $1.00 to D. Appleton and Company, 72 Fifth Avenue,
New York, stating which binding you prefer, and the two volumes now
ready will be sent at once. Then we deliver one volume monthly until
the set is completed in six royal octavo volumes of 5,000 pages. We
recommend the half-morocco edition.
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D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 72 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
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McCLURE'S MAGAZINE.
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ELECTRICITY
EDUCATION
Without Loss of Time
from Work.
Educational results achieved by The International Correspondence
Schools, of Scran ton. Pa., are convincing evidence of what they can do in
future and are now doing. The schools now have 85,000 students and grad-
uates in all parts of the world.
Hard-working men, of average intelligence and ability, have made
wonderful advances in their chosen vocations by study iug during their
leisure time. Machinists have qualified for and secured positions as drafts
men, foremen, and managers ; carpenters have become architects ; em-
ployees in electrical industries have become managers of electrical plants ;
steam engineers have passed advanced examinations and procured licenses ;
subordinates have qualified to fill positions in all departments of civil en-
ginee ing ; plumbers have become sanitary engineers ; boys have learned
mechanical drawing and become designers of machinery; women have fitted
themselves to meet life's emergencies by courses in English, stenography, or
technical branches.
Students are furnished with copyright Instruction Papers, specially
written and illustrated at a cost of $150,000. and are aided by the instructors
at every step in their progress. The school furnishes all the text to study
from, and pays the postage on all matter sent to the student.
The method of instruction by mail was originated in 1801 by Mr. T. J.
Foster, Mauager of the schools. The student is not required to leave home,
or lose time from work. Neither sickness, nor social or business duties can
cause the loss of a single lesson. It matters not where the studeut lives,
ns all instruction is carried on through the mails. Writing the answers to
the questions cultivates accuracy, conciseness, and self-reliance. When a
course is paid in full it is transferable and nonforfeitable, and includes in-
struction in all the subjects of the course until the final examination is
passed. Every student has the benefit of personal instruction by competent
teachers. The marvelous success of the method is shown in the develop-
ment of the schools, which now have a paid-up capital of $750,000, are just
completing new buildings at Scran ton, equipped for correspondence instruc-
tion, costlug $900,000, and the institution employs 500 professors, instructors,
drnffsmen, accountants, printers, etc. Thorough, trustworthy training is
given in many branches, among them being :
Machine Design; Electricity; Steam Engineering;
Mechanical and Architectural Drawing ; Bridge* Rail-
road, Municipal, and Hydraulic Engineering; Archi-
tecture; Plumbing, Heating, and Ventilation; Sheet
Metal Pattern Drafting; Chemistry ; Mining and Pros-
pecting; English Branches; Book-Keeping; Stenography.
Terms of Payment, $2 Down and $2 per Month.
Send for f ree circular of information, stating the subject you wish to study.
THE IKTERHTIOML CORRESPOHDEHCE SCHOOLS,
P. O. B*x 814. SCRRRTOR, PR., U.S.R.
Wl
TAUCHT BY MAIL
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McCLURE'S MAGAZINE.
Waterman's $
Ideal Fountain Pen |
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because you don't have to sharpen it. &
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Ask your dealer or send for a catalogue, ft
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Largest Fountain Pen Manufacturer in JF
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Please mention McClure's when you write to advertises*,
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