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LAWRENCE, MASS.

VICE PRESIDENT CHARLES WARREN FAIRBANKS IN HIS STUDY

Photographed especially for the National Magazine by Jessie Tarbox Beales

NATIONAL MAGAZINE

;VOL XXIII.

OCTOBER, 1905

No. i.

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DESPITE reciprocity congresses, with
their demand for tariff revision, and
railway rate control schemes, headed by
that one emanating from the White
House, there is a fair likelihood that not
the least conspicuous issue before con-
gress in session next month and there-
after will be made up of 'proposals con-
cerning various phases of our relations
with the Philippine Islands.

Chairman Sereno E. Payne of the
house ways and means committee and
Representative Grosvenor of Ohio, one
of the tariff spokesmen of his party,
went with Secretary Taft's party of tour-
ists to Manila and had hardly taken a
square look at the situation there before
they declared themselves in favor of giv-
ing the island dependency free trade
with the United States. This right

GOVERNOR E. W. HOCH OF KANSAS, FIGHTER OF
STANDARD OIL, AND WHO SAYS THE NA-
TIONAL CAPITOL LOOKS SQUATTY AND
SHpULD BE CARRIED TWO
STOREYS HIGHER
From photographs by

MISS ANNA HOCH, THE ATTRACTIVE AND
WITTY DAUGHTER OF GOVERNOR HOCH,
WHO CHRISTENED THE NEW BATTLE-
SHIP KANSAS WITH WATER, AT
CAMDEN, N. J., AUGUST 8.

Snyder, Topeka, Kansas

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

JAMES R. GARFIELD, UNITED

STATES COMMISSIONER OF

CORPORATIONS

CHARLES H. KEEP (CHAIRMAN),

ASSISTANT SECRETARY

OF THE TREASURY

LAWRENCE O. MURRAY, ASSIS-
TANT SECRETARY, COM-
MERCE AND LABOR

THESE ARE THE PRESI-
DENT'S INVESTIGATORS,
STRONG MEN OF THE DE-
PARTMENTS, COMMISSIONED
TO MODERNIZE FEDERAL
BUSINESS METHODS, AND
ABOLISH RED TAPE AS
FAR AS POSSIBLE. THE.RE IS
ENTIRELY TOO MUCH LONG-
WINDED LETTER WRITING
DONE IN THE FEDERAL
OFFICES. EVERYBODY RE-
FERS EVERYTHING TO
SOMEBODY ELSE, BLACKEN-
ING ENDLESS REAMS OF PA-
PER AND "KILLING" END-
LESS HOURS OF HIGH PRICED

TIME. THE INVESTIGATORS, KEEN, PRACTICAL YOUNG MEN OF AFFAIRS, ARE EXPECTED
TO WEED OUT MUCH OF THIS NONSENSICAL PRACTICE, AND TO UNCOVER PETTY
GRAFTERS LIKE SOME OF THOSE WHOSE SLEIGHT OF HAND WORK IN THE AGRICULTURAL
DEPARTMENT HAS LATELY AMAZED THE SECRETARY AND DISGUSTED THE PRESIDENT.

GIFFORD PINCHOT, CHIEF OF
THE BUREAU OF FORESTRY

FRANK H. HITCHCOCK, FIRST AS-
SISTANT POSTMASTER GENERAL

about face from the "stand pat" attitude
occupied by Mr. Grosvenor prior to his
journey eastward is paralleled by the
change of heart that befell Bourke Cock-
ran, the eminent New York anti-imperi-
alist, in the same latitude and longitude.
Mr. Cockran went there, it is intimated,
to get material with which to fight for
Filipino independence of the tyrannical
rule of the United States, but he hadn't
been there long until he made up his
mind that he was all wrong in holding

that opinion, — that the Filipinos are
best off under the Stars and Stripes, and
that we should never even think of let-
ting them leave the family.

Chairman Payne, although one of the
foremost "stand-patters" with regard to
tariff revision generally considered, has
within the past year entertained some-
what more liberal views than many
of his distinguished party contempo-
raries in relation to our duty to the Fili-
pinos. His eastern journey has merely

ROOSEVELt

KOMURA TAKAHIKA

PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT AND THE RUSSIAN AND JAPANESE PEACE ENVOYS IN THE

CABIN OF THE GOVERNMENT YACHT MAYFLOWER, OFF OYSTER BAY,

LONG ISLAND, AUGUST 5TH., 1905

The Russian envoys wera Count Sergius Witte, greatest of Russian financiers, and Baron Rosen, the czar's
ambassador to the United States. The Japanese envoys were Baron Komura and Minister Takahira. It was
due to the president's active personal intervention at a critical stage, when proceedings were deadlocked, that
peace was concluded at the Portsmouth conference on terms creditable to both of the contending nations,

(5)

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

SECRETARY TAFT AND HIS PARTY THAT HAS BEEN ON A TOUR OF INSPECTION

IN THE PHILIPPINES

MISS ALICE ROOSEVELT, SEATED, IS IN THE CENTER OF THE FIRST ROW, SECRETARY TAFT IN THE

CENTER OF THE SECOND ROW.— AMONG THE OTHER MEMBERS OF THE PARTY ARE SENATORS

FOSTER OF LOUISIANA, DUBOIS OF IDAHO, LONG OF KANSAS, NEWLANDS OF NEVADA, WARREN

OF WYOMING, PATTERSON OF COLORADO AND SCOTT OF WEST VIRGINIA; REPRESENTATIVES

PAYNE OF NEW YORK, GROSVENOR AND LONGWORTH OF OHIO, MCKINLEY AND FOSS OF

ILLINOIS, CURTIS OF KANSAS, SHERLEY OF KENTUCKY, COOPER OF WISCONSIN,

JONES OF VIRGINIA, WILEY OF ALABAMA AND GILLETTE OF MASSACHUSETTS;

COLONEL G. R. EDWARDS, GENERAL TASKER H. BLISS AND SEVERAL OTHERS

NOT IN OFFICIAL POSITIONS. — THEY STOPPED AT HONOLULU AND IN

JAPAN ON THE WAY OUT.— RETURNING, THE PARTY IS DIVIDED, MISS

ALICE ROOSEVELT AND SEVERAL OTHERS GOING TO PEKIN,

x ON THE INVITATION OF THE EMPRESS OF CHINA.

From a stereograph, copyright 1006, by Underwood & Underwood

BINONDO CHURCH, MANILA, AN E*Jf^-CfryjN)!H ARCHITECTURE IN THE PHILIP-
PINES, AND ONE OF THE SCENES VISITED BY SECRETARY TAFT'S PARTY
From a stereograph, copyright 1905, by TTn'1 •"• ~ o od & Underwood

(7)

ELIHU ROOT OF NEW YORK, SECRETARY OF STATE AND PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT'S
MOST TRUSTED OFFICIAL ADVISOR. — MR. ROOT HAS SELECTED ROBERT BACON,
LATE PARTNER OF J. P. MORGAN & CO., TO BE FIRST ASSISTANT SECRE-
TARY OF STATE, SUCCEEDING FRANCIS B. LOOMIS, WHO IS SHORTLY
TO JOIN HIS DEAREST FOE, HERBERT BOWEN, IN WELL EARNED
RETIREMENT FROM THE PUBLIC SERVICE. — PRESIDENT
CASTRO OF VENEZEULA INCITED THEM TO SLAY
EACH OTHER AHD SO GOT RID OF TWO FOES
BOTH MR. ROOT AND MR. BACON HELPED
THE PRESIDENT TO SETTLE THE
COAL STRIKE

(8)

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

CHIEF ENGINEER JOHN F. STEVENS, THE AMERICAN RAILROAD MAN WHO HAS

UNDERTAKEN THE JOB OF DIGGING THE PANAMA CANAL AND WHO PROMISES

TO STICK TO HIS TASK UNTIL THE CANAL IS FINISHED

By courtesy of the Chicago Evening Post

confirmed and perhaps broadened his
conception of our duty to our wards.

Mr. Bryan, ignoring the sad fate of
Judge Parker when the latter tried for

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

GENERAL KING, ACTING COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF

OF THE G. A. R., SUCCEEDING THE LATE

GENERAL BLACKMAR

the presidency on the main proposition
that we ought to haul down the flag in
the Philippines, is preparing to visit the
islands to get anti-imperialistic powder
for the next presidential campaign. It
is na secret that he hopes to win the
nomination of his party in 1908, and it
is understood that he regards Japan's
victory over Russia as evidence that we
have all along under rated the capacity
of the Filipinos for independent self
government. Whether Mr. Bryan, like
Messrs. Grosvenor and Cockran, will
reverse his views when he gets a chance
to compare facts with theories, remains
to be seen, but it may be said in ad-
vance, and we doubt if anyone will deny
it, that Mr. Bryan is mighty "sot" in
his ways. He still insists that sixteen
to one is "everlastingly right," and ap-
parently he expects the American elec-
torate to realize it some day.

The scheme for Philippine tariff legis-
lation when congress adjourned at the
last session according to a recent writer

in the Washington Post, was to pass
a law admitting Philppine products fiee,
with the exception of sugar and tobacco,
upon which a duty of twenty-five per
cent, of the Dingley rates was to be
levied for the next four years, \\hen
there would be absolutely free trade on
the products of the Philippines coming
to the United States. Chairman Payne
outlined that scheme to two or three of
.his associates and it seemed to meet
with favor. He also remarked that if
a bill like that was defeated or an at-
tempt was made to hold it up by those
who are standing for the Louisiana cane
and western beet sugar interests, then
a proposition for absolute free trade, to
take effect at once, was likely to be
made, and it would be very difficult to
prevent it going through. He counted
on the support of nearly all the demo-
crats for a free trade measure, which
would leave the sugar interests in a very
small minority in the senate.

Mr-. Payne's free trade declaration
cabled to this country since his arrival
in the islands indicates that he is now
more determined than ever to bring
about free trade in all products between
nation and dependency as quickly as
possible. He may not now be willing
to wait even four years for free trade in
sugar and tobacco. Representative
Wager Sherley of Kentucky, speaking
for his constituency in one of the fore-
most tobacco growing states, is,; with
Secretary Taft's party and has declared
his belief that American tobacco inter-
ests would not suffer any loss if the
islanders were granted immediate free
trade in that staple. Senator Foster of
Louisiana, Senator Dubois of Idaho,
Senator Long of Kansas and Senator
Patterson of Colorado, all representatives
of states in which sugar making is an
important protected industry, are also in
the Taft party, but, except Senator
Long, they have given no sign of a
change of heart. Up to the present they

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

1 1

JAMES WILSON OF IOWA, SECRETARY OF -THE DEPARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE

THE SCANDALS IN HIS DEPARTMENT AND HIS SURPRISE' AT THEIR DISCOVERY SIMPLY PROVE

HOW EASILY A GOOD SQUARE MAN WITH ARDENT SCIENTIFIC INTERESTS DOMINATING

HIS THOUGHTS CAN BE IMPOSED UPON BY DISHONEST BUT PLAUSIBLE SUBORDINATES.

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

have opposed admitting Philippine sugar
into our ports duty free.

Japanese capital is reported pouring
into the Philippines, financing all man-
ner of big private undertakings, and the
leaders of the native population are said
to have lost hope that American capital-
ists will ever do anything toward de-
veloping the vast natural resources of the
islands. Japanese statesmen have made
light of occasional statements by news-

southern branches of the president's
family tree. It will interest many of
our readers to learn that President
Roosevelt is in the line of descent
from Scottish kings, and that one of his
mother's brothers was an admiral of the
Confederate States navy and another the
sailing master of the famous privateer
Alabama when that ship fought and was
sunk by the Kearsarge. Miss McKinley
writes:
"It has been said that next to the

FACSIMILE OF THE SIGNATURE OF THE WIFE OF THE VICE PRESIDENT, WRIT-
TEN ON THE BACK OF A NEW PORTRAIT OF MR. FAIRBANKS, ON SATURDAY,
AUGUST STH, WHEN VICE PRESIDENT AND MRS. FAIRBANKS VISITED
THE OFFICE OF THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE AND INSPECTED
WITH KEEN INTEREST THE PLANT IN WHICH THESE
PAGES ARE PRODUCED

papers and public men, to the effect that
Japan would like to possess the Philip-
pines, but the administration at Wash-
ington apparently deems it well to make
ready for any eventuality, since plans
are afoot for strongly fortifying the prin-
cipal ports. The next session will very
likely also see steps taken for the crea-
tion of suitable defensive works in the
Hawaiian islands, which in naval war-
fare would control the Pacific and are
now practically defenseless.

IN view of the president's purpose to
visit the home of his maternal forbears
in Georgia this month, the National
Magazine commissioned Miss Junia
McKinley of Atlanta to prepare a brief
historical sketch of the distinguished
men and women who figure in the

president himself in the loving interest
of the American people comes the
mother of the president. Since the
time of Mary, mother of Washington,
this sentiment has grown with the
nation's growth, and a halo of tender
interest surrounds the mother of the
president, her environment and her
people.

"Possibly no previous chief executive
owes more to his mother than Theodore
Roosevelt, whose mother, Martha Bui-
loch, was born and raised in Georgia.
She was a member of the old and dis-
tinguished family of Bullochs of Georgia.
Martha Bulloch's ancestors came from
Scotland to America early in the colonial
period; they came from Baldernock, the
records there showing that the Bullochs
originally descended from Donald of the

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

Isles. James Bulloch, lineal ascendant of
Martha Bulloch, before settling in Geor-
gia, came to the province of South Caro-
lina early in the eighteenth century and
there married Jean Stobo, daughter of
Reverend Archibald Stobo, Scotch Pres-
byterian minister. Reverend Mr. Stobo
settled in Charleston in 1700, established
many churches and was a man of note in
the colony. James Bulloch, the first of
the name in Georgia, was a scholarly
man, reading Latin and Greek fluently;
he was educated in Glasgow. While in
Carolina, he was justice of the peace in
1735, received appointment as special
agent to the Creek Indians in 1741, and
was a member of the Carolina colonial
assembly from the parish of St. Paul in
1754. He was a planter and entertained
royally at his country seat, 'Pon Pon;'
he was a friend of General Oglethorpe,
the commander of the king's forces, who
was his guest at 'Pon Pon.' In 1760,
James Bulloch was justice for Christ
Church parish in Georgia, from which
time he was of great usefulness and in-
fluence in the province. In 1775 he was
a member of the provincial congress
from the Sea Island district.

"The only son of James and Jean
Stobo Bulloch was Archibald Bulloch,
born in Charleston in 1730, and who

married, October 19, 1764 — on Argyle
Island in Georgia, Marie De Veaux,
daughter of Colonel James De Veaux of
Shaftesbury, Esquire, and Ann, the latter
the daughter of Edward Fairschild and
Ann, daughter of Edmond Bellinger,
landgrave of South Carolina. Archibald
Bulloch was the first republican governor
of Georgia, speaker of the royal as-
sembly in 1772, member of the conti-
nental congress in 1775 and 1776, presi-
dent and commander-in-chief of Georgia
in 1776-1777. That he was not a signer
of the Declaration of Independence,
from Georgia, was because his official
duties prevented his being in Philadel-
phia. This document was sent by spe-
cial messenger from the president of the
continental congress to Governor Bul-
loch, who was the first to read the dec-
laration in Georgia. Archibald Bulloch,
patriot, soldier, statesman, was among
the first to assert American rights in the
province before Georgia abjured allegi-
ance to British authority. He was loyal
to principle, an ardent patriot, uncom-
promising and unostentatious. When
the commanding officer at Savannah
sent a special sentinel for Governor
Bulloch's house, he refused, saying:

"'I act for free people in whom I
have the most entire confidence and I

COATS OF ARMS OF THE BULLOCK, IRVINE AND BAILLIE FAMILIES, THE SOUTHERN
BRANCHES OF THE PRESIDENT'S FAMILY TREE

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

THEODORE ROOSEVELT, SENIOR, MERCHANT OF NEW YORK
From an early newspaper print

wish to avoid on all occasions the ap-
pearance of ostentation.'

"He died February 22, 1777, in the
faithful discharge of executive duties,
and is buried in Colonial Park, Savan-
nah, Georgia.

"His eldest son, James Bulloch, Jr.,
married Ann Irvine, daughter of John
Irvine, surgeon, ' and Ann Elizabeth
Baillie, daughter of Colonel Kenneth
Baillie of 'Durrain.' James Bulloch, Jr.,
was captain in the continental army, 1778
to 1781 : captain of Georgia state troops^

1790; clerk of the superior court, and
honorary member of the state Society of
the Cincinnati.

"His son, James Stephen Bulloch
(grandfather of President Roosevelt)
married Martha Stewart, widow of
United States Senator Elliott and
daughter of General Daniel Stewart of
Georgia. The children of this mar-
riage were Ann, Charles Irvine, Martha,
and Irvine Stephen.

"Martha Bulloch married Theodore
Roosevelt of New York, and their son

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

MARTHA BULLOCH, MOTHER OF PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT
from an early newspaper print

Theodore Roosevelt is president of the
United States of America.
' <;The father of Martha Bulloch, James
Stephen Bulloch, was a prominent man
in Georgia, was major of the Chatham
Artillery, vice president of the Union
Society, deputy collector of the port of
Savannah, and member of the company
that sent the first steamship, the Savan-
nah, across the Atlantic ocean.

"Major Bulloch was a wealthy planter
and ma-ny years before the Civil war
removed from near Savannah to RoswelJ,

Georgia, where he had erected a Sum-
mer residence. His home there was
surrounded by broad acres and in a
situation so lovely that he continued to
reside there until his death, which oc-
curred suddenly while attending church.
All his children were raised in Roswell.
The Bulloch mansion, still there, is a
type of Southern architecture, with mas-
sive pillars and broad galleries. It was
from this home that Martha Bulloch was
married to Theodore Roosevelt, Sr., of
New York. There are many still in

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

Georgia who cherish tender memories
of the president's beautiful, aristocratic
mother. Throughout her girlhood she
was a noted belle, admired everywhere
for her beauty, accomplishments, charm
of manner and strong mentality. Dur-
ing a visit to her sister in Philadelphia,
she met Mr. Roosevelt, who was capti-
vated by the lovely young southern girl,
and the announcement of their engage-
ment soon followed. Felicitations and
regrets were intermingled, for many
deplored her loss when the bridegroom
rode out from the North to claim his
bride.

"Martha Bulloch Roosevelt loved with
ardor her native state and mourned with
anguish the sorrows that the war be-
tween the states brought to her people.
On one occasion, after hostilities be-
tween North and South had begun and
when her northern home was decorated
for some festive occasion with American
flags, she, to show her loyalty to the
South, displayed from her boudoir

window the Confederate flag, which
caused angry sentiments in the crowd
that collected in front of the house.
They demanded the removal of the flag.
She refused when told by Mr. Roosevelt
and no persuasion from her husband
could induce her to withdraw it. So he
made a speech to the crowd, by this
time a mob, told them his wife loved the
flag, as she was a southern woman, and
the mob dispersed.

"The Bullochs of Georgia have ren-
dered distinguished service to country
and state, fought in colonial wars, the
Revolution and Indian wars, in the War
of 1812 and down through the Civil war.
Governor Archibald Bulloch' s three sons
were all men of note'. His son Archi-
bald Bulloch, Jr., was justice and col-
lector of the port; his son William Bel-
linger Bulloch was captain of artillery,
1812; United States attorney, solicitor
general of Georgia, mayor of Savannah,
and United States senator.

"Later members of Martha Bulloch's

MARTHA BULLOCH'S BIRTHPLACE, ROSWELL, GEORGIA, NEAR ATLANTA

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

JAMES D. BULLOCH, ADMIRAL IN THE CONFED-
ERATE NAVY, — AN UNCLE OF PRESI-
DENT ROOSEVELT

family who rendered noted service to
Georgia, were Irvine Stephen Bulloch,
(Martha Bulloch 's brother), sailing mas-
ter of the Alabama when she fought the
Kearsarge; Admiral James Dunwoody
Bulloch, Confederate States naval agent
abroad; Dr. William Gaston Bulloch,
major in the Confederate army, and
many others of Martha Bulloch' s kins-
men whose bravery enrolled them among
the heroes who fought under the banner
brave hands bore unsullied all its years,

'"The Southern Cross and Crown,
The wonder of a thousand lands
And glory of our own.'

" 'The flag that once did brave a world

From its proud standard riven,
Is folded from our sight and now
Hath no place under heaven.'

"One of President Roosevelt's mater-
nal ancestors was Kenneth Baillie of
'Dunain,' ensign in 1735, captain, major
and colonel in colonial regiments. Colo-
nel Baillie was descended through Bail-

ARCHIBALD BULLOCH, THE FIRST REPUBLICAN

GOVERNOR OF GEORGIA IN THE

EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

lies of 'Dunain' from Robert Bruce, king
of Scotland, and from William Wallace
and other royal lines. Colonel Baillie's
will, dated July 7, 1776, is recorded in
Atlanta, Georgia. In this will, he
directs 'Baillie's Island' to be sold and
the proceeds given to his daughter Ann
Elizabeth, wife of John Irvine, surgeon,
son of Charles Irvine of Cults. Colonel
Kenneth Baillie was one of the witnesses
to the treaty between General Ogle-
thorpe, commander of the king's forces,
with the Creek Indians, August n, 1739.
Charles Irvine, mentioned in the will,
married Euphemia Douglas, descended
from 'Black Douglas' who died in battle
with the Saracens while carrying the
heart of Bruce to the Holy Land.
Hence the human heart on the es-
cutcheon of the Douglas family.

'"Any record of Martha Bulloch's pa-
triot ancestors would be incomplete with-
out mention of her own grandfather,
General Daniel Stewart of Georgia, who
joined the continental army at the early

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

age of fifteen years. He was indeed a
Revolutionary rough rider and rode with
Marion. Daniel Stewart fought in the
southern campaign in 1780, was cap-
tured, .taken on a British prison ship,
escaped and fought until Cornwallis sur-
rendered. He commanded troops against
the Indians, was an elector to cast a vote
for Madison, raised a brigade of cavalry
in 1812 and was made brigadier general.
Stewart county is named in his honor.

"Since Martha Bulloch, through
Baillie-Irvine lines, was lineally de-
scended from the royal house of Scot-
land, President'Roosevelt is as truly of
royal lineage as Edward VII of England,
also descended from kings of Scotland.
J*

"To the student of atavism, the presi-
dent's ancestry presents much of inter-
est. Paternally, his ascendants were
from the fine old Knickerbocker families
'•>f New York. The founder of the
Roosevelt line was Claes Martenszen
Van Rosenvelt, Dutch trader, who came
to New York in 1645, and many of
whose descendants were men of note
after the Dutch flag was superseded by
the British. These thrifty Dutchmen
traded, served God and country and

fought in the Revolution as American
soldiers.

"Maternally, our president is de-
scended from English speaking ancestors
except the De Yeaux line — French. So
in this blending of sturdy Knickerbocker
and southern cavalier one queries, 'From
which 'side of the house' does the presi-
dent inherit his cordial manner, perfect
dignity and courtesy? A genial current
transmitted, surely, from Martha Bulloch,
and to her, perhaps, a heritage from
courtly Chevalier De Veaux of the pro-
vince of Georgia. From the Knicker-
bockers must have come much of the cool
courage, tenacity and sturdy traits of
character. From the Bullochs and the
Baillies and the Stewarts of Georgia, gal-
lant heroes all, must have come, with a
large share of "fighting blood," the high
integrity, loyalty to principle and fine
patriotism that unite to make Theodore
Roosevelt what he is, the highest type of
American citizen, soldier and statesman.
Descended from those royal rough riders,
The Wallace and The Bruce, how fair he
rode under tropic skies, how brave the
charge up San Juan's heights, and, riding
down again, he found himself enshrined
in the hearts of the American people."

NIGHT SCENE AT THE LEWIS AND CLARK CENTENNIAL, PORTLAND, OREGON: — THE
REFLECTION OF THE LIGHTS UPON THE LAKE

THE GREATER FAITH

By Christobelle van Asmus Bunting

EVANSTON, ILLINOIS

« IN a thousand years it would never
• happen again," and Mrs. Norman
Stapleton stirred her bouillon absently
as she sat at a solitary luncheon in her
father's home.

She had come over that morning to
look up some old pictures in the garret.
There was a daguerreotype of her father
when a boy, and Mrs. Stapleton wished
to find it. She happened upon many
other relics — dusty books and all that
sort of thing. In one old fashioned
dresser she found some personal belong-
ings of her mother's. There was her
diary, and Mrs. Stapleton opened it.
She ran through the pages rapidly till
she came to the year of her own wed-
ding. She found the date, May 14.
There was nothing written there, but
below, on the fifteenth, it read :

Josephine married. Poor child, with
no mind of her own ! Fortunately she
has a mother. Mr. Stapleton is all I
could possibly wish. I am so glad it is
over. It is all so nerve tiring.

"Poor mamma," she said, and then
Mrs. Stapleton had come downstairs
again. How the hours had gone! She
had no idea it was already noon, and
she was to meet Jane Stockton at twelve.
She must call her at once by wire and
explain, and — then it happened.

It was the strangest thing — a coinci-
dence merely— not at all impossible, but
so unlikely. The wires were crossed,
and when she asked for Miss Stockton
someone said:

"Who's talking?"

"This is Josephine."

"Not Josephine Gilbert?" he inter-
rupted.

"Yes. Why? Who are you?"

And then it came out that he was
Jack Souther. And she had told him
he might call that very afternoon.

"Are you still living in the old place?"
he had asked.

And she had answered: "Yes."

And now, after an absence of more
than five years, he had come back.
Josephine wondered if he knew she had
married — but of course he must know.

So she had remained to lunch there.
He would likely call late in the after-
noon. She would ask him to walk
home with her.

Did she think really that Jack Souther
would call late? Well, he did not and
he drove up, too. She heard him whistle
as he used to in the old days. Through
the bare Autumn trees she could see he
was not coming in. She went to the
porch.

"Bring your hat, Jo," he called, and
then he jumped out of the carriage and
waited for her.

Mrs. Stapleton was excited. She
pinned on her hat and taking her
jacket on her arm she hurried down
the walk.

They did not hold one another's hand
in a long, close clasp. They did not
look long into each other's eyes with-
out one word. No; there was nothing
strange about their meeting. To a
passerby it would have seemed they
had parted only yesterday.

"I thought w.e should enjoy a drive
most," he said as he got in after her.

"How long is it?" she asked.

"Nearly six years."

"What brought you back?"

"You."

Her color heightened.

"Then he does not know," she said
to herself. To him she replied :

"I thought you had forgotten."

"Why did you never write to me?"
and he turned and looked squarely at
her.

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

"How should I know where to find
you? Would 'Mr. John Souther, Africa',
have reached you?"

"I sent you two letters, Jo. Didn't
you ever get them?"

"I never heard from you after the
night you left."

"Did you get the flowers that next
day?"

"No," she answered slowly, "I never
heard anything."

"I suppose your mother thought best
not to bother you. Doubtless she — "

"Don't," interrupted Mrs. Stapleton.
"She is dead."

"Oh," he said quickly, "forgive me."
But in his eyes there was a look of sup-
pressed relief. "It happens sometimes,
you know, that letters and all do get
irretrievably lost — but I fancied, per-
haps, that you had reason, some good
reason, for not writing me."

"No," she answered, "I should have
written had I known where you were,
but I was led to think that if you were
desirous of hearing from me you would
let me know your whereabouts. I sup-
pose with some trouble I might have
found you — but, well, I did not."

"Never mind now," he smiled at her.
"It was a long wait, but it's over."

They had come to the same old cross-
road that led to the bridge. In the dis-
tance was the little white district school.
The fallen Autumn leaves rustled be-
neath the carriage. It was the only
sound anywhere.

Jack Souther slipped his arm through
the reins and let them hang loosely.

"Have a cigarette, Jo?" he asked,
smiling as he lighted one himself.

"No, thanks," she returned, laughing
lightly. "You're not changed at all."

"Nor you."

"Don't you think so?"

"Not in the least, unless, perhaps, it's
your heart. Tell me about it," and he
leaned forward and looked back into her
eyes.

"We were very happy in those dear

dead days," and she sighed slightly.

"Are they so dead?" he asked.

"I don't think they could be more so."

"I did not mean to stay away so long,
Jo." He was silent a moment; then he
added: "The night I left I was deter-
mined I should show your mother that
I was worthy of you."

"You were always^" she said quickly.

"My family was all right, but we
were poor. 'A poor doctor's son,' she
said — and justly, and I knew I had no
right to ask you then. I only wished
to make sure you would wait, but your
mother had said to me: 'To wait for
what?' Had I 'any assurance of better
things?'— and I had none. I only felt.
I did not know. I should have come
back before, but I was not ready, and
I knew until that time there was no use.
And I did not even know I should find
you — but these things are all mapped
out, no doubt. You love me, don't
you?" he asked abruptly.

She looked at him, but she could not
speak. The deep blue of his eyes was
so true, so sure. What would he think?

"Say it, Jo," he smiled, reaching for
her hand.

"I Can't," she choked, "I married the
next Spring after you had gone."

He did not reproach her. He an-
swered only:

"Poor child! I might have known it.
It was your mother. Who is he?"

"Norman Stapleton."

"Oh, he stayed here, then?"

"Yes, he joined the firm of King &
Gordon."

"Where are you living?"

"In Harvard Place."

"But Jo, you are not happy?"

"I have not let myself think of it until
today," she said slowly. "I thought
you had forgotten."

"When did your mother die?" he
asked.

"A year ago."

"It would have been too late then,"
he mused half aloud.

THE GREATER FAITH

"Yes," she agreed, "I was married
long before."

They were crossing the bridge. He
leaned toward her.

"For the sake of old times?" he
asked.

His lips were very near her own.

"No," and she pushed him away
gently. "We have no right."

"I guess you know," and he lighted
another cigarette. "This is a queer
world. I can't imagine things as they
are." He gathered the reins. "Shall
we speed some?" he asked.

He did not wait for her to answer. It
was not long before they reached the
city road again. The sun had gone
down and the day was already over.
Lights shone from the different homes
and they could see through the windows
as they passed.

"Where shall I take you," he asked.

"It is the third house in Harvard
Place."

She did not ask him in when they
reached Mrs. Stapleton's home.

"Thank you for coming with me," he
told her.

"You were kind to take me," she
smiled forcedly.

"May I call?"

"Certainly; whenever you like. Mr.
Stapleton is in Canada on a hunting
trip. Went with Charlie Burrows and
Bobbie Alsworth. How long shall you
be here?"

"I am not sure."

Someone came by and spoke to her.
She seemed disturbed.

"Goodnight," he said.
"Goodnight," and Mrs. Stapleton
turned and went up the steps. She did
not go inside till she saw the carriage
turn the corner.

There were two letters waiting for her.
One was an invitation to Mrs. Smith's
reception. In the other she learned that
Norman Stapleton had killed two deer.

Mrs. Stapleton did not see Mr. Jack
Souther again till the afternoon at Mrs.
Smith's. She had a birthday the Mon-
day before and he had sent her a great
box of chyrsanthemums. Mr. Stapleton
had not forgotten it either, though he
was in the heart of the forest. He had
left word at the jeweler's before he went
away. It was a beautiful string of gar-
nets—a rosary. That night Mrs. Staple-
ton prayed the prayer for faithfulness
and fidelity.

Mrs. Stapleton had been brought up
in a convent, and all her religious train-
ing had been from the sisters. Her
mother had sent her when quite young.
Mrs. Gilbert was obliged to travel for
her health — afterward she became a
Christian Scientist. Before, she had
been rath'er negative. They had taken
a pew in the Methodist church because
Mr. Gilbert's mother worshiped there.
She had sent Josephine to the "Sacred
Heart" because it seemed to be the
only thing at that time. She had not
imagined the child would become a
Romanist, but it did not matter. When
Josephine grew older Mrs. Stapleton
would take her to her own church. But
Josephine did not waver.

Mrs. Smith's was the first invitation
Mrs. Stapleton had accepted since her
mother's death. Everyone was excep-
tionally pleasant to her. There was
Mrs. "Dick" Kendall, whom, at a dis-
tance, she had always admired. She
had never known her well. Mrs. Staple-
ton's mother did not like Mrs. "Dick."
Josephine wondered why. She could not
help feeling it was unjust.

"I am glad you are out," Mrs. "Dick"
said. She was almost the first to speak
to her.

"Thank you," Josephine answered.
"Do you know," Peggie began, "that
Jack Souther's back? Oh, but of course
you must," and Peggie laughed know-
ingly. "He was a sweetheart of yours,
wasn't he?"

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

"He is a very dear friend," she re-
turned smiling. "Yes, I've seen him. It
was quite funny," and then Mrs. Staple-
ton related the telephone episode.

"How romantic," Peggie was saying
as Mr. Hardy came toward them.

"What's romantic?" he asked.

"Oh, good afternoon," she smiled
graciously. "Have you met Mrs.
Smith's niece?"

"Yes, she is charming," Mr. Hardy
went on. "She makes silhouettes."

"Makes what?" Peggie asked.

"Silhouettes — cuts them out in no
time. She's awfully clever! Fresh from
school."

"Yes," and Peggie led the way to the
library. "Come, have some tea. Mrs.
Smith has a different sort than Mrs.
Stevens was on her hands. Dorothy
Stevens is her niece, you know?"

"Oh, yes, I know," Mrs. Stapleton
assented. "I used to meet her at the
club. She's not been lately."

"That so?" and Peggie looked about
some. "There's Jack Souther," she
said again, "talking to Mrs. Smith's
niece. She's pretty, isn't she?"

"Oh, that's Miss Clarke?"

"Yes; come, I will introduce you."

Soon Mrs. Stapleton found herself
alone with Jack Souther drinking tea.
She wondered for a moment how it hap-
pened.

"The flowers were beautiful," and
Mrs. Stapleton turned toward him.

"I thought they might please you,"
he said.

"It was very kind in you, I am
sure."

"It was a selfish pleasure."

Things seemed strained. Mrs. Staple-
ton felt that she had no right to be sit-
ing there with him. SI e felt that others
would notice it; though there was Mrs.
Darrell Stevens and Mr. Hardy chatting
together, and she heard cnce that he
had been very fond of her— after her
marriage, too.

"Has Mr. Stapleton returned?" Mr.

Souther asked. He knew that he had
not.

"No, he will not be home for another
week."

"It must be lonely," he ventured.

"It is, very," and Mrs. Stapleton's
hand shook beneath her cup.

"I don't care for tea," he said again,
"do you?"

"No, not particularly."

"Shall I take your cup?"

"Thank you."

He placed them on a table near by.

"Do you remember the cocoa we used
to make on Monday afternoons when
your mother went to her whist club?"

She smiled.

"How much fun it was. You always
used to kiss me for the money in my
cup," he went on.

"How dreadful of you," she remon-
strated.

"But you did. And do you remem-
ber, Jo, the day your mother came
home? I literally fell up the front stairs
and down the back, and afterward I tele-
phoned you, and you met me on the
corner. You just happened to, you
know. I had the carriage, and oh, what
a drive we had that day!"

"And we lost the whip!"

"Yes, and your sapphire ring! How
we hunted for them both!"

"And I got back very late."

"Yes," he said meditatively. "Do you
remember anything particular about that
drive?" he asked.

Her cheeks flushed. Mrs. Kingsley
Hudson came up just then.

"Why, Jack Souther!" she exclaimed,
"where did you come from? We are
expecting Stuart home next week. You
know Stuart, Mrs. Stapleton?"

"Oh, yes, quite well. Our birthdays
are on the same date — year and all."

"Why, yes, I remember. Have you
met 'Puss' — his wife?"

"Is Stuart married?" asked Jack in
surprise.

"My, yes — has a daughter nearly three

THE GREATER FAITH

years old. A man has no right to bury
himself as you have done."

"I'm beginning to think I did make
a mistake," Jack Souther returned,
almost sadly.

"You've been very successful, haven't
you?" she asked, smiling. "How long
shall you be here?"

"I don't know yet." He glanced at
Mrs. Stapleton, but she was not looking
at him.

"I am to give a dinner next Thursday
for Stuart and 'Puss.' You will be
there?"
"Oh, yes."

"Will you come, Mrs. Stapleton?

Stuart will be so glad to have you.

Mr. Stapleton will be back, won't he?"

"No, I do not expect him until Satur-

day or Sunday."

"Can't you come anyway? Please
do."

"I shall need a partner," Jack said
lonesomely.

"Why, certainly," Mrs. Hudson
urged. "Come and sit next to Jack."
There was no excuse to refuse. Jose-
phine accepted with thanks. And so it
came about that Mrs. Stapleton came
to Mrs. Kingsley Hudson's dinner
party.

Covers were laid for twelve, and it
happened that Jack Souther was the only
unmarried person there.

"I'm glad you're not an old maid,"
Peggie said consolingly. She sat on his
left.

"I might as well be," he returned.
Peggie thought he seemed regretful.

"Come over some time," she said
later when they were leaving.
"Thank you, I shall."

Peggie was toasting marshmallows
before a grate fire, with the children,
when she heard the street bell. She
was surprised when Jack Souther came
in.

"I owe you an apology," he began,

"for not coming on your day at home,
but somehow I felt like coming this
afternoon, and I could not resist."

"I'm very glad you came," and Peggie
extended her hand cordially. "These
are my boys, John and Robert. They
have grown up since you've been away."
The children soon left them alone.
"It's grown very cold out, hasn't it?"
Peggie asked. "Won't you have some
marshmallows?"

He reached for a stick, and, putting
one on the end of it, held it before the
coals.

"You have a nice family, Mrs.
'Dick.'"

"Yes, we are very happy," she an-
swered smiling.
"You were always lucky."
Peggie laughed.

"Be careful; you're burning it." She
reached for the toaster. "One might
imagine you in love."
"I am."

"Oh, tell me about it!" Peggie pre-
pared another marshmallow. "Don't
spoil this one. Who is it — Miss Clark?"
"No," he answered dreamily, "it
wouldn't be my fate to fall in love with
someone I m%ht possibly marry."

"Goodness!" ejaculated Mrs. 'Dick.'
"You frighten me. Please tell me
quickly — but I can guess," she added
ponderingly. "It's Josephine Gilbert
Stapleton!"

"Yes," and Jack Souther dropped
toaster and all into the fire. "You see,
Mrs. 'Dick,' I've always been in love
with her — and," he went on slowly, "I
believe she has been with me."

Peggie looked at him. "They seem
very congenial," she interposed. .
"Do you like him?" he asked.
"Yes, rather. He's not my sort,
exactly. He's too unbending. But I
do think him a pleasant person. He
is English, very."
"Her mother made the match."
"Oh, certainly! Mrs. Gilbert never
cared for me. Told Mrs. Alfred Hall

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

she thought me frivolous. I always felt
sorry for Josephine."

"And I," Jack Souther said emphatic-
ally. "It was just this way. I knew I
could never marry Josephine if I were
a poor man. I did not dream Mrs. Gil-
bert would die — and I knew Josephine
would never take any radical steps
against her mother; so I made up my
mind I'd make good, and I have,— to
what purpose?" he added bitterly.

^.Well," said Peggie sympathetically,
"I'm awfully sorry for you, Jack. I wish
you could get over it."
• .-"I can't."

" But you might. You must go away,
you know, and perhaps new scenes and
people might change you."

"It's too deep seated, Mrs. 'Dick.' '

"You won't go, then?"

"Oh, yes, I'm going. There's no use
to remain. It's only a constant re-
awakening to us* both."

"She still cares, then?"

"I am sure of it."

"Did she say so?"

"No, Josephine wouldn't do that."

"I suppose not. Her religion is a
great deal to her. She would never
dream of a divorce — and, then, there
are no grounds."

"No, there is but one thing could
bring her to me, and that is death."

"Maybe he will shoot himself on this
trip," Peggie said wickedly. "How
dreadful!" she added quickly. "I did
not mean to say it."

"No," he answered, rising. "You are
loyal, that's all."

"And it's no comfort to say that you
will have each other in the next world,"
she added.

"It's not material enough," he an-
swered, smiling.

They were jesting, but neither of them
felt that way.

"Come again," she urged as they
came to the hall.

"It's very good in you to be so solic-
itous, Mrs. 'Dick.'"

He held out his hand.

"Something will happen," she con-
soled him.

Jack Souther couldn't help feeling
Mrs. 'Dick' was speaking the truth. He
lighted a cigarette as he came outside.

Peggie watched him from the window.

"Poor boy!" she said aloud. "I won-
der if he will get over it — I mean I
wonder when?"

She lighted the yellow lamp in the
music room.

Mrs. Stapleton entertained for Mr.
and Mrs. Stuart Spaulding. She gave
a theater party with a supper afterward.

When the first act was over Mr. Hardy
leaned across and said to her:

"I understand you are going away
soon, Mrs. Stapleton."

"Yes, I am going west with Miss
Stapleton."

"So soon?" asked Peggie.

"It is rather early." Josephine felt
the blood rushing to her cheeks. Jack
Souther was looking straight at her.
"But Miss Stapleton is anxious to get
away, and so I shall not inconvenience
her."

"Is she here?"

"No, we expect her Wednesday."

"Where are you going?" Mr. Souther
asked. He had not taken his eyes from
her, and Josephine felt they were search-
ing her very soul. A great lump rose in
her throat as she answered, trying to be
unconcerned:

"West, to Denver first, and then to
the coast — probably."

The curtain rose.

"Holy Mother, I thank thee!" she
gratefully prayed.

Peggie looked at Jack Souther. Each
knew what the other was thinking, and
each knew where Josephine Gilbert
Stapleton 's heart was.

In the lobby Jack got a word with her.

"I may see you before you go?" he
asked.

"Come up tomorrow at ten," she said
almost breathlessly.

THE GREATER FAITH

When Mr. Souther came to the Staple-
ton's steps the next morning the large
door opened. Mrs. Stapleton stood
there with her wraps on. She wore a
fur collar that well became 'her.

"I have been watching for you," she
said, coming out. "I thought you would
not mind walking over to my father's
with me."

"I shall be glad to do so," and they
started together down the walk.

"When are you going?" he asked.

"Tomorrow night or the next morn-
ing."

"Don't go," he said regretfully. "I'm
going away, Jo. I did not intend stay-
ing this long. I wish I had not caused
you all this pain and trouble. Forgive
me."

"I do not blame you," she answered
sweetly. "No one's to blame — only
there's no use to try. We couldn't ever
be only friends — not after all we have
been to one another. Perhaps there is
such a thing as friendship after love, but
it's beyond you and me, Jack. We have
always been so free and frank, and it
would be as impossible for us to ever
take things commonplace again, as for
the sun not to shine. Perhaps if we had
our way — who knows but we might have
seen that it was not all we imagine it,
after all, but we have never really had
'an affair' so to speak and — well, because
we are who we are it's not only wicked,
Jack, it's dangerous. I am uncomfort-
able when I know you are here."

"I will go away."

"No, I shall not drive you from your
friends. They are all you have. I can
go better than you."

"I shall be gone when you return.
And this is all, then? This is the end?"

She looked at him.

"What would you have me do?" she
asked hopelessly.

They had come to the Gilbert home.

"It's a very cold goodbye," he said,
as she held out her hand.

"There is nothing else," she answered.

Mrs. Stapleton took from her pocket-
book a worn, tiny piece of paper, on
which something hardly legible was writ-
ten.

"It's a prayer," she said, as she
handed it to him. "I wrote it — for you
— years ago."

He took it and put it carefully away
in his card case.

"Thank you," and he smiled sadly at
her, "and if anything happens I will
come for you?"

"Yes, and I shall be waiting."

Mr. Jack Souther walked away hur-
riedly.

Mrs. Norman Stapleton went into her
father's house. She played nearly the
whole of Lohengrin and then she went
to her own old room, and, throwing her-
self on the bed, she wept.

After Mrs. Stapleton went away Mr.
Jack Souther found everything empty.
He called on Mrs. "Dick" Kendall and
Mrs. Kingsley Hudson, bjt they did
not entertain him. Peggie went so far
as to give a small, informal chafing dish
supper, just to throw Mr. Souther and
Miss Clarke together, but she confessed
to Dick afterward that "it was the poki-
est thing" she had "ever been at. When
a man's in love, the very best thing to
do is to leave him there."

"I reckon that's about right, Peggie,"
Dick returned laughingly.

"If I had my way, they would come
together," and Peggie laid her book on
the table.

"How about Mr. Stapleton?"

"Oh, I don't know. Seems he is the
least concerned. I suppose he would
get over it — could; but Jack Souther
can't — won't."

"Has he gone away?"

"Not yet; goes Thursday, I think."

"Where is he going?"

"South somewhere." Then she added
abruptly: "Shall I have a brown or
gray tailor-made?"

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

"They each become you. Have
both," Dick suggested.

"I think I'll have brown," said Peggie
meditatively. "I like brown."

Ill

From a window of his room at the
hotel Jack Souther saw a party starting
for the golf links. He watched silently
some seconds, then turning and picking
up his hat he walked out. In the office
he came face to face with Mrs. Norman
Stapleton.

In both their eyes there was a min-
gling of surprise, happiness— and regret.

"Why, Jack!v she exclaimed.

"I thought you had gone to Denver,"
he returned.

"No, we changed our minds."

"I am glad of it. How do you find
Jacksonville?"

"We like it very much— and you?"

"I have just come."

"Miss Stapleton and I are on our way
to the links. Will you come with us?"

"Gladly," he smiled at her.

Miss Stapleton did not play, and she
got tired and went back to the hotel.
Josephine and Jack played all morn-
ing. Neither one of them referred to
anything past between them. They
laughed and chatted like any friends
might.

When Josephine was alone in her
room, she thought it all over.

"After all," she said to herself, "I
have been mistaken. We can be friends.
I am glad he came. It will break the
monotony. I was foolish and hysterical
to have fancied Jack and I could not be
friends. Why shouldn't we be? Just
because when we were young — very
young — we were sweethearts, is that
a reason we should not be friends now?
How silly I have acted! Why don't I
think more quickly and act less so?"
Josephine argued until she quite con-
vinced herself.

And so the days passed quickly
enough. Sometimes they wei.t with

others; sometimes the}7 went alone.
- One day Jack asked Josephine and
Miss Stapleton to go for a drive. They
accepted, but when he came for them
Miss Stapleton's head bothered her.

"It's too bad to have put you to so
much trouble," Josephine said sym-
pathetically, as they stood together on
the piazza.

"You don't care to go?" he asked.

"Why, yes," she answered quickly.
"It didn't occur to me we could go any-
way. Wait, I will be back presently."

Josephine almost regretted she had
told him she would go. She remem-
bered their last drive at home; but she
was unnecessarily perturbed. She even
thought afterward that Jack was cool
toward her. It pricked her pride a
little.

"How glad I am," she said to herself,
"that I did not give way that first day."

Only once did she have cause to think,
even, that he still cared, though she
could hardly believe, in her heart of
hearts, that he did not.

He had taken dinner with them at
the same table, and they were coming
out of the dining room.

"How many people there are here,"
she remarked.

"Yes," he answered slowly. "Does
it oppress you?"

"Oh, no, only sometimes I feel it.
Sometimes I wish to be alone."

"All alone?" he asked, but he did not
wait for her answer. He added quickly,
"I would not care to be all alone, unless
two were counted one."

She looked at him, but he was looking
straight beyond. The orchestra was
playing a waltz, and the dreamy strain
came to them where they were.

"That makes one wish for solitude,"
he said.

"Yes, it does," and she smiled almost
lovingly.

Some one asked Miss Stapleton where

THE GREATER FAITH

Mrs. Stapleton's husband was. She
asked more than that, and then this
same individual went on to say that
there had been a great deal of specula-
tion as to the relation of Mrs. Stapleton
and Mr. Souther.

"Of course," she continued patroniz-
ingly, "I don't approve of such gossip,
but in a place like this one has to be
very careful. For instance, Mrs. Sears
said to me only this morning when Mrs.
Stapleton started for the links with Mr.
Souther: 'There they go again, always
together,' and then she went on to say
that the other afternoon they drove till
after sunset, and then danced together
that evening. As I've said, I don't
think the least thing about it at all, but
I thought possibly you might thank me
for telling you. It's those most con-
cerned who hear least, as a rule."

Miss Stapleton did thank her. She
herself had been thinking a great deal
about it lately. She had never been
accustomed to a friendship of this sort
— but she had thought it distinctively
American. She knew her brother's wife
must be all he had said, and even now
she did not doubt it, but it was quite
plain that if her actions were causing
comment that something must be done
to stop her continuance of such indiscre-
tion.

Miss Stapleton did not go to her
sister-in-law and in a friendly way tell
her — no, she was "afraid to hurt Jos-
ephine's feelings." It would doubtless
be "most embarrassing" and so she
decided to inform her brother of the
affair, and he would know exactly what
course to pursue.

It so happened that the day Miss
Stapleton's unfortunate letter arrived,
Mr. Stapleton had had a most annoy-
ing and disagreeable hour at luncheon
at the club. He came in and sat at the
only vacant table, which was in a corner
next the wall — but before he had finished
the place was quite deserted. Behind
him he could hear two men talking.

Evidently they thought themselves in
the room alone. It was evident, at
least, that they did not know him. His
attention was attracted by one of them
saying "Mrs. Stapleton."

"What!" exclaimed the other, "You
don't mean to say that Jack Souther has
never gotten over that?"

"So I'm told. I heard he had fol-
lowed her to Jacksonville, and that they
were togther constantly."

Mr. Stapleton did not wait longer.

He felt choked— strangled. He fairly
flew up the street, as he went home, and
there the first thing that greeted him
was his sister's letter. He paced up
and down the long hall. His "name,"
his "honor" — everything was swept
away — and he "had been blind" — he
had trusted her. His "wife," his "wife,
good God!" He could not believe it.

He took the sleeper that night for
Florida.

If Mr. and Mrs. Stapleton had married
for love it would have been different —
but neither one of them had done
so.

Mr. Stapleton had married because he
wished to identify himself with a home.
He had never really been a club man,
though he frequented a club occasion-
ally. It was rather for convenience than
pleasure. Indeed, it was solely for con-
venience.

And Josephine: it had been her
mother who had married her. And it
happened, too, that Mr. and Mrs." Staple-
ton had been very congenial. As yet
neither one had experienced any mo-
notony. They were both resourceful.
They each had their own interests.
They were both fond of music, of art,
of books. Time never dragged for
either one.

Mr. Stapleton, too, was proud of his
' wife. She was a musician and attrac-
tive. On the other hand Mrs. Staple-
ton respected her husband, and even
found him entertaining; but to neither

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

had there ever come a real passion
for the other.

Josephine smiled sadly one day as she
thought of it.. She had come across a
sketch of a Greek maiden Jack Souther
had done. She remembered how one
day she and Jack had tied the horse in
a country road, and then gone over to
sit in a clover field. She had made a
wreath of the blossoms and he put it
on her head and called her his "Greek
girl." And then how they had planned
what they would do when they were
married. She was to have one Grecian
gown all white with bands of silver in
her hair; and about her hips she was to
wear a heavy chain linked with pearls.
And then on nights when he came home
all tired and just a little cross, maybe,
she would dress so and play for him,
while he was quiet and smoked and
smoked. And then, when she became
ill, he would be so good to her. He
would read and sing those queer songs
she liked so well — those funny darkey
melodies; and they would love, and
love, and love.

"How different it is now," she
thought — "how different!"

When Mr. Stapleton reached the hotel
Mrs. Stapleton was out.

"We did not expect you here," his
sister said excitedly.

He was very calm.

"Where is Mrs. Stapleton?" he asked.

"I think they are on the links."

"'They!' So it has come to this?"

"Oh, do not be so harsh, Norman. I
misspoke myself. It is nothing. I am
sorry that I unduly alarmed you. I
thought you might speak to Josephine
as I could not. She might take offense
at anything I might say, while you,
being her husband, understand better
how to approach her."

"There is nothing to say — to ask. It
has become common gossip — at the club
— everywhere."

"Norman!"

"It is quite true."

And then Josephine came in. The
scene that followed was quiet and de-
cidedly unimpassioned. Josephine tried
to explain, but her words carried no
conviction. There was no persuasion
in them. They sounded, even to him —
and to herself, too — untruthful.

She could not go to him and, with
her arms about his neck and her eyes
all smiles or tears, say: "Norman, how
could you think it?" If she had been
able to do so there would have been no
occasion. True love could never have
been tortured with the thoughts he en-
dured. Instead she looked at him and
pleadingly said:

"What will you do?"

"There is nothing but divorce," he
answered icily.

"Divorce!" she gasped.

Their eyes met.

"I have not been unfaithful," she said
defiantly.

"You have compromised my name."

"And you are going to give proof
to it?"

"I am going to protect it."

"Do not divorce me," and she reached
for his arm, but he drew back.

"There is no other way," and turning
he left the room.

Mr. Jack Souther was stupefiedly sur-
prised to learn the next day that Mrs.
and Miss Stapleton had left. He could
think of nothing to occasion such an
abrupt departure. He felt sure that
before the day was over he would hear
something; but when not only the day
but the night also passed without word
from her he was more perplexed and
worried than he cared to admit. He
rose late to find an unsatisfactory note
saying that they were obliged to return
home and for him not to follow. There
was "no use," she said. But Jack knew
that something strange had happened.

THE GREATER FAITH

He dreamed that night that she was
nailed to a cross. It impressed him so
he could not sleep. The next day he
went after her.

On his arrival he called on Peggie.

"All I know," she said, "is that
Stuart Spaulding and someone else said
something one day at the club. They
thought they were quite alone, you know,
when suddenly, from an obscure table
away back in the corner, where there
was a chimney, up sprang Mr. Staple-
ton. The next thing we heard he had
left and then they all came home again;
and this morning Nan Clarke came over
and said there was to be a divorce."

Mrs. "Dick" and Jack Souther looked
at one another.

"Is that all? "he asked.

"No," Peggie hesitated. "I hate to
tell you, for very probably there's not
a word of truth in it."

"What is it?"

"Well, that Josephine is going back
to the convent. She is going to do some
work where married women are ad-
mitted. I don't know what."

Jack was whiter than the chrysanthe-
mums beside him.

"When is she going?" and his voice
shook.

"I don't know," Peggie answered.
She was more frightened than anyone
knew. She had not dreamed he wou'd
take it so.

"He has gone away."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Josephine's alone
with his sister. I suppose he will come
back when she is gone."

"Mrs. 'Dick,'" he asked, standing,
"will you go to her?"

"I?" Peggie said, bewildered.

"Yes, and say I sent you. Tell her I
know everything, and I am waiting to
come to her."

"Shall I?"

"Go quickly, please go, Mrs. 'Dick.'
I will come back at five to hear what she
says."

Peggie followed him to the hall. She
shook visibly as she fastened on her hat.

"It's so cold," she said indifferently,
and they went out together.

Peggie was waiting for him when Jack
Souther returned.

She smiled when he came in, but the
hand she gave him was like ice.

"Tell me," he inquired excitedly, still
standing.

"I'm afraid it's no use, Jack. She is
heartbroken, like a flower wilted. She
believes there is no hope, no happiness
ever again. I told her what you said,
and she said to thank you, but her mind
was made up. There was 'no other
way'. She goes tonight."

"Tonight! By what train?"

"Oh, Jack! I don't know. What are
you going to do?"

"I am going to save her," and he
fairly ran to the hall.

"Goodbye," he said, taking Peggie's
hand. "What could I have done with-
out you!"

When the door shut after him Peggie
sank into a hall seat.

"What have I done!" she said de-
spairingly. She heard Dick coming up
the steps and she rose and opened the
door.

When a nine o'clock, north bound
train pulled out of the station that night
there was one man on it that might have
attracted attention for the fact that he
was very white and restless ; but every-
one else had his or her own affairs at
heart, and Mr. Jack Souther was left
entirely to himself.

He tipped the porter liberally to ascer-
tain if Josephine was unmistakably
aboard. The man came back with
plenty of assurance, saying among other
things that her bag was marked J.G.S.

Jack stayed in the smoker till his
berth was made up, and it was not
until the next morning, when the train
steamed away and they stood together

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

on the platform of the little private sta-
tion, that they met. -

"I knew you would be here," she said
as he came up to her. "I couldn't help
feeling your presence all through the
journey."

"Then you were not lonely?"

"No, I felt a sense of freedom— of
liberty, somehow. For the first time in
my whole life I begin to feel responsible
— individual."

She had not been weeping, and her
eyes were a clear, soft gray. The cold
November sun rising in the east cast an
uncheery welcome about them. Against
the sky the convent cross rose in the
frost dipped morning. Bells were call-
ing to early mass.

"Come, let us sit here," and he led
her to a station bench. "Are you
cold?"- he asked.

"No," she said, but he turned the
collar of her coat about her neck.

"What made you come?" she asked.

''Because you wished for me and I
wished for you."

"But you cannot stay." She put her
hand on his arm. Through his heavy
coat he felt the touch. The thrill came
back to her.

"We cannot help it," he began. "In
the ages past they knew nothing of it,
but as man has evoluted, as human
nature has grown, so has love de-
veloped, and we have arrived at the
age of love ere we are born. We — you
and I — are ripe for it. We cannot stay
this thrill within our blood; we cannot
stop these heart throbs; we cannot keep
our souls apart. This yearning, this
hunger to help, to protect, to shield,
to love — it comes from within. It re-
flexes from you to me and back again,
and so on forever. It's not the passion
of a day, dear; it's the love of eternity.
It's straight from God."

He folded his hand over both her own.
The sun rose just behind the cross; a
cold east wind blew about them. She
looked away toward the convent. In

the balance hung sacrifice and happi-
ness: the hope of joy beyond, or the
fulfillment of joy on earth. The one
was a clear, white, steady glow of end-
less atonement; ceaseless prayers of
repentance; of sacrifice of the body for
everlasting peace of the soul. The other
was a warm, red flame of love. Love
scarce lisped as yet; love true and endur-
ing; love that nothing could change nor
turn aside; love of the heart and love,
too, of the soul. She touched his knee
— the thrill came back again. Why
could not this love last forever? Why
not go together on and on into eternity?

Mass was over. Through the gate the
sisters came. She looked from them to
him. He smiled at her.

"Yes, you are right," she said slowly.
"God gave us this love and we cannot
throw it away. In all the world who
but you has ever cared what I have
been? Who ever dreamed what we have
dreamed for one another? Whoever
understood the other as we have done —
and now that we at last are free to love
and live, what right have I to make a
prison for it? No; I will go with you."

She stood.

"Come," she said, "let us be
going."

The sun shone upon them as they
turned to go.

"See," he said, "the heavens are
glad."

"Yes, it is God's blessing," she said,
smiling.

Peggie was sitting on the side veranda
when Nan Clarke rode by. Peggie
beckoned her in, and Nan rode up the
drive.

"Come and visit a little," called
Peggie.

"Thanks, I will," and Nan dis-
mounted and took a wicker rocker.

"Where have you been?" Peggie
asked.

"Out on the river road with Mr.

THE GREATER FAITH

Hardy. ' Has he any money, Mrs.
'Dick?'"

"Oh, I don't know," Peggie laughed.
Why?"

"I was only wondering. You see,
Mrs. 'Dick,' I've got to marry money.
I'm not as independent as my cousin
Dorothy. I'm from the poor branch of
the family."

"All right," returned Peggie, "we will
marry you to a millionaire."

"Oh, by the way," Nan continued,
"I saw Mrs. Stapleton just now. Mr.
Hardy pointed her out to me. She's
dreadfully Mgly. Such a pity that his
other wife- had such an ending."

"What do you mean?" Peggie asked.

"Why, that she shut herself up in^
a convent. Mr. Hardy says she was
dreadfully sweet — a real lady, too, — and
he treated her shamefully. Poor thing,
now she is pining her life away saying

prayers. I don't think she was horrid,
do you?"

"Why, no," said Peggie emphatically.
"It. was purely a case of misunder-
standing and unwarranted mistrust."

"That's the trouble about marrying
for money — or anything else excepting
love. It's taking such chances, isn't it,
Mrs. 'Dick?'"

"Yes," said Peggie, rocking to and
fro, "it is."

"I wonder," said Peggie to herself,
when Nan Clarke rode away, "if Nor-
man Stapleton knows."

Peggie was thinking of a letter she
had received from Algiers some months
since. A letter from Jack and Josephine
Souther.

"Well," she said, going inside, "if
he doesn't, he probably will. This
world is too small for secrets. After
all, what does it matter?"

"PLAYING POSSUM"^ An Autumn Idyl

B h o t o g r a p h by Cora J. Sheppard, Shiloh, New Jersey

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MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

II. — THE SURVIVAL OF MAN

By Michael A. Lane

Author of "The Level oi Social Motion," "New Dawns of Knowledge," etc,

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

IN that Almanac de Gotha of Nature,
customarily called the "Theory of des-
cent," we find, by careful tracing, that
men1 are descended from a hairy animal
with very long arms, prognathous face,
tremendous neck - and back - muscles,
comparatively small brain case, and a
habit of climbing trees; which habit, by
assiduous cultivation, enabled him to
get out of reach of his natural enemies
when threatened by them with death.

This nimble (and ferocious) ancestor
of ours probably had many other salutory
and useful traits of body and mind, that
assisted him in circumventing his ene-
mies while he was evolving from a mere
Simian into an early man, during which
pre-human stage of his racial existence
he was confronted with numerous "prob-
lems" quite as serious as, .if not very
much more serious than, the problems
that confront his book reading, electric
lighted, and telephone using posterity
today. Numerous as were his problems,
however, they could have been all sum-
marized, or synopsized, under two large
heads: First, how to escape being
killed; secondly, how to get enough to
eat.

Two large, all inclusive, and frightfully
suggestive thoughts! Problems, indeed;
problems that called for prompt decision
and quick action in circumstances where-
in to hesitate, or to be a trifle defective
in sight, or hearing, or smell, was, as a
matter of positive fact, to be wholly and
irrevocably lost.

There is the best of evidence for the
belief that this ancestor of ours, — call
him pithecoid, pithecanthropus erectus,
anthropoid, primate, ape, monkey, or
any other common, or proper, name you

will, — was not found wanting in the
various crises by which as a developing
race, he was confronted. We know that
he managed to get away from his enemies
and we know that he managed to get
enough to eat; facts, the indubitable
nature of which is made plain by the ex-
istence of us, his children, here and in
the present day.

When pithecanthropus passed down
his traits, (slightly modified) to that gen-
eration of his which we may call "primi-
tive men", he passed down his respon-
sibilities and his problems also. How
escape being killed ; how get enough to
eat? The problems were the very same,
only the means of solving them were
more serviceable and more feasible.
Primitive man could make fire and clubs.
He could not hear as far, see as far, or
smell as far as his ancestors; his arms
were not as long, his neck- and back-
muscles not so powerful, his jaw not so
prognathous. But he could make fire
and clubs; and even stone hatchets and
spears with sharp flint heads. He could
build a house for himself. His brain
was larger, and whenever his natural
enemies saw him coming their way, they
cautiously withdrew and hid themselves,
if indeed they were not caught and killed
before they had time to make good their
instinct to get avray. Fire, spear,
house, club, large brain, and improved
hands. In one word a — man.

Primitive man was a fair improve-
ment on his ancestors, but was not yet
without his two principal problems, or
two mother problems, in which all sec-
ondary problems were bound up: To
escape being killed; to get enough to
eat.

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

In his attempt to solve these two prob-
lems,primitive man laid down the found-
ation of the future civilization of the
world. He was the original founder of
art and science, of law and order, of
trade and agriculture, of education and
manufactures, of invention and morality;
and of religion — that is, if we date the
foundation, or beginning, of these things
from the time in which they first took
definite shape, so that men could speak
of them as categorical things, and ex-
press the idea of them in an intelligible
way.

We can say with all possible solemnity
of truth that this marvelous society of
ours, of which we sometimes — in mo-
ments of exalted excitation — boast to one
another in vast outpourings of unpentable
breath and wind-speech, was founded by
that filthy, vermin infested, supersti-
tious, hand to mouth, murderous, thiev-
ing ancester of ours; who did not found
it for his posterity, but founded it in a
sort of Fabian -like emergency, or in
what statesmen call nowadays oppor-
tunism. He had to escape being killed,
he had to get enough to eat. He found-
ed modern society.

And a first class foundation it was,
when you consider the purpose of it; for
it was, in the minds of the founders, an im-
perative necessity to escape being killed
by animals other than men, and to make
sure of having enough to eat, not only
from day to day, but from month to
month, and even from year to year.
The food problem was solved forever
when it dawned on the mind of primitive
men that it would be a wise procedure to
raise flocks and to grow crops. And in
their solution of the food problem, that
other problem, of their natural enemies,
was solved, as it were, in a corollary; for
agriculture quickened the invention of
tools, and this quick invention was ap-
plied to the hunt.

In the early natural history of the hu-
man race, men, in all probability, played
havoc with every kind of animal with

which they came into contact, for it
would appear that vast numbers of ter-
restrial animals — the majority perhaps
— are born today with an instinct of fear
of men. If we assume that men killed
off all species of animals which could
not be domesticated, and which did not
have an instinctive wariness and fear
of men, the almost general fear of the
human kind, observed in most wild ani-
mals of the present, would be accounted
for.

Here then is the debt we owe to our
primitive ancestor, stated in terms of
the things he accomplished: He elim-
inated all danger of being killed by ani-
mals other than men; he contrived defin-
itely and permanently to eliminate all
danger of death from starvation — two
performances well worthy all the consid-
eration that philosophy can give them.

These root problems, which were set-
tled ages ago by the establishment of
primitive agriculture, gave way to other
problems concerned with the dealings of
men as among themselves. Man, col-
lectively, was now sure of a living, and
was likewise. placed above the possibility
of being destroyed by natural enemies;
or, to say the least, of being destroyed
by such natural enemies as he could
grapple with and kill. There might
still have been a possibility that the hu-
man race would be wiped out by the
very lowest of all living organisms —
those vegetable microbes that feed on
the bodies of men, killing them in the
process. But man luckily escaped that
possibility, or, rather, was strong enough
to resist destruction from such sources —
having, in common with other animals,
a protecting army of "white corpuscles"
which swarm by billions in his blood and
scour all quarters for invading microbes.
Wise Metchnikoff calls them "phago-
cytes"-—mere microbe eaters which
save the lives of men and make possible
the continued existence of his race as
well as that of other races.

Man, as a race, therefore, is quite out

MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

of all danger of being killed by natural
living "enemies", (including microbes)
and out of all danger of not having
enough to eat; which assumption, of
course, excludes the altogether specula-
tive possibilities of a new and invincible
"plague" or of the exhaustion of the
earth's productivity in the matter of
food. Man, collectively, is sure of a
living and sure of his life.

What then? you will say. What of it?
What, specially, is the importance of the
fact that the ancestors of rnen managed
to get away from their enemies and man-
aged to get enough to eat?

The importance of this fact is, when
we come to look into it without particu-
lar prejudice in one direction or another,
really of no more weight than the impor-
tance of any other fact of any other kind
whatsoever. We sometimes say, with a
certain degree of pride, that man has
"trampled a path from Silurian distance
strewn with the dead." Man has waded
through blood and death to his present
eminence, with this result only, that he
can say that he possesses in the highest
degree the quality of fitness for survival.
But in this respect he amounts to no
more than any other animal or vegetable
that has accomplished the same thing.
Millions of other species have managed
to survive; and the survival of man has
depended quite as much on accident as
has that of other kinds of animal, and of
plants. That much flouted aphorism to
the effect that "the world was produced
by a fortuitous concatenation of circum-
stances" will commend itself to him who
persistently asks the why of everything
he sees or hears of. A fortuitous con-
catenation, such as Topsy was thinking
of when she said she "just growed" — a
sublime truth, the meaning and the '
force of which were as far from the mind
of Harriet Beecher Stowe as Indus is
from the pole.

Man "just grew" into all that he is —
just grew from his beginnings down in
the slime where life originated — grew

with a mass of other slowly motile, crawl-
ing and squirming things, to emerge in
the present day a fairly powerful canni-
bal, 'who owes his "limited supremacy"
to kind, blind Accident, his creator.

As a primitive hut, built of sticks and
mud, was the germ of a Vanderbilt pal-
ace, so was the undifferentiated cell the
germ of a man; for what is your palace
but a differentiated hut, though some-
what larger and more complex? Like-
wise what is the difference between the
modern painting and the picture-writ-
ing on the walls of Scandinavian caves,
if it be not — growth, or the accumulated
effects of growth? This is what is called
Evolution — survival by means of natural
selection — and it embraces not only
man but the whole infinity of things be-
sides. The survival of man means, in the
general scheme of things, no more than
the survival of oxygen or of aluminum
silicate,' such as we call "sand," and find
piled in vast quantities on the sea shore
and elsewhere; a mere drift of things,
in, an orderly manner, but in an order
that has no definite plan or purpose in it,
so far as the shrewdest of observers has
as yet been able to point out.

In the general drifting of things we
see certain particular, special drifts
which invite our curiosity — such as
Life, for example, because so intensely
and pressingly obvious. The physiolo-
gist, clearing up his ground, and trying
to arrive at some generalization which
he can call a "law," by infinite look-
ing into a microscope discovers a
thing which is called "muscle," and a
property of that thing, which he calls
"contractility". A muscle contracts.
Whenever a muscle is stimulated it con-
tracts. The function of muscle is con-
traction, and nothing else. It is said
therefore, that contraction is the "spec-
ific energy" of muscle. The muscle
fibers of a man's body are essentially
the same as the muscle fibers in the
body of any other animal. It would
appear that wherever the property of

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

contractility is found specifically evolved,
developed, or "energized," it takes the
form of a muscle fiber. The fly alights
on your bald head by means of the mus-
cles that move his wings. You drive
him away, kill him if you can, by means
of the muscles that move your arm. The
musculature of the fly's wings enables it
to survive because that musculature ena-
bles it to get away before the musculature
of your arm can kill it. In that classic
little animal, amoeba, is found the fund-
ament and potentiality of all muscu-
larity and contractility — undifferen-
tiated and non-specific energy. Its
whole body contracts and engulfs its
prey. Nature, drifting musclewards
from amoeba, has produced the fly and

— You. Man and fly — or say gnat that
gets into your eye, causing unspeak'able
annoyance —are both eminently "fit to
survive," — possess the quality of fitness
for survival in high degree — seeing that
both are alive and thriving at the pres-
ent time, having muscles and nerves es-
sentially the same in structure and func-
tion.

Now the problems which confront the
fly are the same problems that confront
the early ancestors of men : How es-
cape being killed? how get enough to
eat? A fortuitous concatenation of cir-
cumstances carried man — or his ancestors

— a little higher on the drift, a little far-
ther than most other animals. A blind,
mechanical drifting, or pulling, this
way or that, drifted, or pulled, a few
million more of nerve elements into his
body than fell to the lot of other animals ;
and man's nervous and muscular sys-
tems "grew" to such extent and with
such effect that he accidentally discov-
ered that he could practice intensive cul-
tivation. Carried a little higher, drift-
ing a little farther, we behold him here
and now clothed in "limited supremacy,"
but not yet wholly and unlimitedly su-
preme, since fly lights on his bald head,
and gnat, having muscles very like his
own, occasionally gets into his eye,

causing him unspeakable annoyance,
and often times intense pain.

We speak of man's survival, of man's
struggle, and of man in general, or gen-
erically, as a genus, kind, or category
which, let us ever bear in mind, exists
only as an idea, and not as a concrete
thing, to be laid hold of palpably. Man
has survived, it is true, but the circum-
stances in which he survived, the forces
that selected him for survival, so to
speak, split him into a number of varie-
ties, precisely as similar circumstances
produced widely diverging species and
varieties of — gnats and flies, let us say,
and of innumerable other animals that
have survived along with him.

In the hot tropics, for example, only
the highly pigmented races of men can
exist. The blond European is snuffed
out there in a few generations, if not in
the first. The black pigment fades from
the skin of men as one goes toward polar
regions, save for the handful of Asiatics
who by means of plenteous blubber and
houses of ice have lingered, a social
vestige, in the arctics, mere blubber suck-
ers without politics, religion, or crime.
White, red, yellow, black; long headed
and short headed, straight and curly
haired; patriarchal, matriarchal, from
bosjesman, say of Australia, to the Roy-
al Society man of London who, also, may
wear whiskers for personal adornment,
and rings on his fingers. Yet all these
are men and are, as.a genus, or kind,
collectively called "man," each species
surviving in its own environment, and
fortuitously led, by his own special
"concatenated circumstances," to the
particular state in which we find him .
now.

Having trampled his path from Silurian
or other distance thus far, and having
in the meantime, by means of his su-
premacy, or' "mastery of the earth" or
as much of it as his pigmentation (or
want of pigmentation) will permit, solved
his ancient problems of getting away
from his enemies and getting enough to

eat, man is confronted by a new prob-
lem which, when formulated, seems to
be this : How escape from self destruc-
tion? How prevent himself from wiping
himself out? Somewhat after the fash-
ion of the microscopic animals in the
drop of water, which rend one another
until the last gorged cannibal dies of
starvation, having nothing more to rend
and devour.

(Pent up in a drop of water may exist
an entire microcosm, a world in little,
in whose vast depths range swiftly mov-
ing, hungering organisms, seeking to es-
cape from those who would devour them,
seeking whom they may devour. The
primordial problems are there in the in-
finitely little, no less than abroad in the
larger world in which we ourselves live,
and whereof we are partly the masters.)

The struggle for mere food has been

replaced, with men, by the struggle for
wealth in general — a struggle of man
with man, and nation with nation, for
the plainly avowed purpose of acquiring
a wealth produced by others, and ac-
quiring it by force or diplomacy, which
latter is only another word for fraud.
The nations of today inherit the enmity
which, in times previous to the evolution
of nations, was the enmity of the tribes
for neighboring tribes, and before that
ancient enmity can be replaced by amity
the natural racial hate of the black and
yellow man for the white man, and vice
versa, must be removed by the removal
of the one or the other, or the produc-
tion of a new race in which the several
characters of the surviving races will
have been blended. A new problem
may then confront the new cosmopolite,
of which we may see more hereafter.

MICHAEL RYAN, CAPITALIST

A STORY OF LABOR

By F. F. D. Albery

COLUMBUS, OHIO

XIV
FOREBODINGS

THERE had been universal distrust
1 and misgiving. The times were un-
compromisingly hard. Failure had fol-
lowed failure in the business world.
Prices had gone down and it was next to
impossible for many large concerns to
keep afloat. Some that were heavily
backed by strong capitalists continued in
activity for the sake of keeping in the
market, although every day meant loss.
But wherever it had been advisable to do
so, factories were closed down, fires were
banked and the pay roll was stopped un-
til such time as business could be car-
ried on at a profit. Here and there a

concern, actuated by motives of humani-
ty, instead of closing down proposed to
keep its men at work at reduced wages
or to keep part of the men only employed.
The former course had been adopted by
Kruger, Gill & Wamser, who, besides de-
siring to keep their works open, had
always treated their men with consider-
ation and hoped by the adoption of this
policy to remain in the field of activity
and keep their force together at the same
time. But dissatisfaction had been rife
for a long time and the agitators had
obtained strong positions. The men
who work over hot fires and with the
stubbornest material known to man seem
to be peculiarly sensitive to all influ-
ences which appeal to their independence

and manhood; and the palpable admix-
ture of foreign blood adds to the liabil-
ity to take unreasonable and extreme
views from which it is hard and often
impossible for them to recede. It had
frequently occurred that the men were
on the point of striking, but rare tact and
the great prosperity of the business had
made it possible to meet on some mutual
ground which had heretofore worked for
pacification and apparent contentment.

Now, however, the conditions were
changed. The depression in trade was
general. Everybody was losing money.
The times were out of joint and there
was no help for it. When notices were
posted about the mill that a general re-
duction of wages had been found neces-
sary there were visible signs of discon-
tent. The men began to gather in small
groups and the air became heavy with
portents of danger. It might all have
been arranged in some way but for the
prompt arrival of walking delegates who
instructed the men not to submit. But
as some of them \yho had families to sup-
port were willing to continue, it became
a serious problem with the managers as
to whether they should import enough
extra men to carry on systematic work
for the sake of the loyal ones or whether
the mill should be shut down. Under
Ryan's advice it was decided to con-
tinue and a number of outside men were
engaged to take the places of the strikers.
Whereupon, a committee from the strik-
ing employes waited on the officers of
the company to protest against their
jobs being given to nonunion men.
Upon being informed that the company
would not tolerate such interference
they threatened to prevent the "scabs"
from working at all. The designation
"scabs" evidently included their fellow
workmen as well as the new men and the
feeling against them was more bitter
than that against the others.

In the efforts to preserve the peace
many meetings were held, most of them
stormy and uncompromising. At each of

these the leaders of the men appeared to
be those of wildest and most unreason-
able views, whose harangues were ap-
plauded as though the sentiment ex-
pressed truly represented their own feel-
ings, until finally the men were worked
up to a state of frenzy. By this time it
had become necessary to guard those
who were still willing to work and occa-
sional acts of violence had been commit-
ted. One or two of the new men had
been roughly handled and in one in-
stance an old employe against whom the
strikers held a particular grudge barely
escaped with his life. There had even
been some attempts at incendiarism
which the strikers indignantly denied
responsibility for. It was altogether a
bad situation, bad as could be, and it
seemed to demand unusual action.

It was thought that possibly Ryan, by
reason of his close association with the
men, his continued membership in the
local lodge, his labor among them and
his persuasive manner of speech, might
be able to pacify them, and it was deter-
mined that upon the first occasion he
should address them in the effort to
bring about harmony and peaceable re-
lations. -He had no hope of convincing
the real malcontents and the evil minded
ones, but he knew that among the men
was a large majority who were simply led
by the idea of loyalty to the union and
to their fellow men, who needed work
and who were perfectly willing to do it
but were either afraid or ashamed to face
the scorn of their leaders; and these he
hoped to reach over the heads of their
despotic officers, whose interest seemed
to lie in constant agitation and turmoil.
It had been suggested to him that there
might be personal danger to himself in
undertaking to stand before a mob of
angry men, many of whom were un-
doubtedly suffering by this time, and
whose families must be in distress; for
be it known there is no born capitalist
or aristocrat who is so hateful to such a
mob as the man from their own ranks,

MICHAEL RYAN, CAPITALIST

who has succeeded and whom they have
seen rise step by step to opulence and
power while they themselves have stood
still. There seems to be a bitterness of
hatred toward such an one. Jealousy,
that wickedest of all poisons, lends a
hideous intensity to the feeling which
easily encompasses murder in its scheme
of revenge and makes it more dangerous
than the viper's sting.

But Michael Ryan knew no fear.
These men with whom he had associated
every day were all known to him indi-
vidually as to their powers and mentality.
He feared no one of them in his individ-
ual capacity. Why should he fear them
all? It was simply Jones, and Chapman,
and Williams, and Thomas, and Evans,
and all the others together. Who and
what were they? His misguided breth-
ren whom he pitied for their short sight-
edness in being led by such undisguised
frauds as Bill Kitchen and the walking
delegates who were not iron men at all
but butchers and bakers and candlestick
makers who came from nowhere and
were mixing in where they did not be-
long.

He would speak to these men. He
would make an effort to reach their
reason and persuade them to break away
from their evil and fatal bondage and be
men, independent, manly men and not
slaves in a servitude the most barbarous,
tyrannical and senseless that had ever
been known.

He would not have undertaken it at
all if it had not been that he really
wanted to come to the succor of these
men and their families. He did not
care to break up the union or destroy its
influence but he did want the men to
use common, ordinary sense in conduct-
ing their own business affairs. He did
not want them to be dictated to by men
in no way superor to themselves only in
assumption and he did want them to see
and understand that they were fighting
against their own best interests.

In this cause he was willing to take all

chances and with hope in his heart he
waited his opportunity.

XV
THE SITUATION STATED

THE more Michael Ryan thought about
the conflict between the striking em-
ployes and their employers the more
deeply seated became his conviction that
the men were in the wrong, but just
how to convince them of it became a
serious problem. He had many times,
in conversation with them, individually
and in the little contests of argument
that had occurred between different
groups, gone over the situation of Amer-
ican workmen generally as compared
with those of other countries. Upon
this branch of the subject he had read
deeply and studied much, had seized
every opportunity to gain information
from those who, more fortunate than
himself, had travelled in foreign parts
and observed the actual conditions there
existing, but mostly from the experience
of those of the laboring class who had
left their native shores in order to get
the benefit of those advantages enjoyed
by their brethren in far America, where
the larger wages and better treatment
made it possible for them to advance be-
yond the mere point of animal existence.
He knew that the average laboring man
in this country, if he were industrious
and frugal, could in time become the
owner of a home with healthful sur-
roundings and some degree of comfort
and even luxury which was hopelessly
beyond the reach of the average laborer
in any European country.

He knew also that by reason of his im-
portance as a voter and the equal of all
other American citizens, the occupation
of him who toils for daily bread is digni-
fied, and that self respect and independ-
ence, going hand in hand, brought con-
tentment and reward in satisfaction
with life and those occupations to all
who had the good fortune to look at

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

things in their right light. That it
meant more than the ability to live and
earn money; that each day should carry
with it its own appreciation of a nobler
and freer existence. The fact that his
children could be respectably clothed
and .well fed and educated in the free
schools to any calling for which they
were fit. His daughters could get edu-
cation enough in the public schools to
become teachers and his sons to the
point where other doors stood wide
open for professional or business careers
which he had never had the advantage
of. His wife could associate with women
of some standing in the community,
who were not ashamed of her because
her husband was a laboring man.
This and more was so, apparent to him
(and it seemed that it must also have
been always apparent to the others) and
the argument had spent its force. The
fact was they were here and enjoying all
these blessings which they knew were
scarcely within the reach of their breth-
ren across seas. They were American
citizens: some of them, like himself,
born in America and having never
known anything else but free speech,
free thought, free schools and the equality
of all mankind. They spoke from that
standpoint and therein lay the danger.
They were free American citizens.
They knew their rights and imagined
they were only claiming them.

They had been taught to feel that an-
ther force, towit, Capital, had stepped
into the place of the crowned despot on
the other side of the Atlantic and was
becoming a menacing danger to our free
institutions and to their personal liberty.
It was worse than a royal foe inasmuch
it was the end and aim of all our striv-
ing; that it converted free-born Ameri-
cans into worse tyrants than those they
had fled from, that its attractiveness to
all classes rendered it insidious and that
the most dangerous to the laboring man
of all others was the one from their own
ranks who by good fortune had arisen to

the ranks of opulence. All of evil that
was implied in the words trust and cor-
poration was now concentrated in one
generic word "Capital." To be a cap-
italist was almost the equivalent of be-
ing a criminal and Capital itself was the
great standing crime of the age. The
more ignorant the man happened to .be,
the more deep-seated seemed to be his
conviction that every rich man was his
natural enemy, and the demagogue ora-
tor seemed to have no trouble in con-
vincing his audience that Capital had
stolen its substance from labor; that,
whereas labor produces everything and
Capital produces nothing, therefore Cap-
ital is a fiction— a falsehood in fact which
should be destroyed and its substance
restored to those who have created it.
and to whom it rightly belongs.

This idea was so attractive to the un-
thinking, so convenient to the lazy and
incompetent and withal so useful to the
wicked that it never failed of its due
effect on the mob, in whose eyes it was
unanswerable. Michael Ryan fully
realized what he had to meet and was
sore perplexed as to just what he should
say in order to satisfy the men and yet
keep away from this proposition to which
all argument seemed to drift.

XVI
A TYPE

THE home of Robert Duncan was hum-
ble enough and there were only the
most ordinary comforts about it. Still
it was a home and here he had lived with
his wife and children in happiness and
contentment and what was lacking in
show and elegance was quite made up
in excessive neatness and cleanliness,
for Mrs. Duncan was one of those never
resting, supercritical Scotch housewives
who, when they can find nothing else to
do, will always find something to scrub.
It followed from this nervous habit of
hers that everything was in the highest
state of polish and that the paint had

MICHAEL RYAN, CAPITALIST

been scrubbed off the woodwork in many
places in the effort to get rid of the last
speck of imaginary dirt. The result of
all this was absolute neatness and clean-
liness from the floor to the table cloth.
Moreover, Mrs. Duncan was an excel-
lent cook and the plain fare which they
were able to afford was always most ap-
petizing. People were wont to say that
Mrs. Duncan's bread and butter were
good enough for the president of the
United States, and when these were sup-
plemented by a baked potato and
poached egg, why, the Waldorf-Astoria
could give you no better meal. But the
blight of the strike was over all and it
had not missed the home of Robert Dun-
can. He was loyal to his union — went
with the men when they decided to strike,
although it was against his judgement
and he had voted against it: but with
him the voice of the majority was law,
and when the others laid down their
tools he did so also. He did not believe
in violence and in all the meetings of
his local he invariably counselled
moderation. Following consistently this
course, he had incurred the displeasure
of the more violently disposed, and criti-
cism of his alleged lukewarmness was
frequent among men of the Bill Kitchen
and Hall stripe. Nevertheless he did
not change his course and his stubborn
Scotch honesty made him always ready
to defend his position, which he did with
intelligence and force. But as the slow
weeks dragged on and no solution to the
difficulty seemed probable, and as the
relief from the allied organizations came
less frequently and in smaller and small-
er amounts, he began to chafe under
the miserable conditions which had re-
duced the men to poverty. For some
days the supplies which he had been
able to furnish his family had been very
meager — not sufficient for either comfort
or health — and they were beginning
to show the effects of it. He would not
beg or borrow as some of the men did,
deeming it unmanly for a big, strong,

healthy man, who was capable of earning
good wages, to live off his fellows, and
the result was that he was even worse off
than most of the others.

"We can't stand it much longer," said
his wife one evening after the children
had been put to bed. "Today I gave
my share of what we had to Jim and
Alice and there was scarcely enough to
satisfy them. Isn't it nearly over?
Can't the strike be called off?"

"I'm afraid not," said Duncan. "In
fact, it seems to be getting worse and
I'm afraid there will be violence any
day. The men are getting desperate
and the outside help from the other
unions is about played out."

"Well, I think it all nonsense," said
Mrs. Duncan. "Here you were making
good wages and everything going on all
right when somebody from the outside
comes along and says you must have
things so and so or go on a strike. It
isn't fair. Why should this mill be
bound by some other mill or a lot of
carpenters or some such other folks who
can't get along with their bosses. If I
was you I wouldn't stand it any longer.
Here we are with nothing in the house
to eat and not because you can't work but
because you won't work; and you won't
work not because you don't want to but
because somebody else don't want you
to. I'm sick and tired of this union
business. Everything's for the union.
What does the union do for you or your
family? — Gets you into trouble all the
time. That's what it does. Keeps
things stirred up. Makes your life mis-
erable. Puts you in danger and then
when you're loyal to it and stick to it,
lets you starve. What difference does it
make to you how much Kruger, Gill &
Wamser make? Let them make millions,
so's they let you make your own honest
wages."

"Well, dear," said Duncan wearily,"!
guess you are right. I'd like to goto
work tomorrow. In fact I never wanted
to stop, but you can't keep up organ-

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

ized labor that way. We must all stick
together or we never can accomplish
anything."

"But why can't a man go to work to
keep his family from starving," persisted
the wife.

"Because we're supposed to be helped
through by the allied organizations where
there is no strike on," returned the hus-
band; "but somehow it always fails at
^Tftr-cfiiKra'r'po'ilH. We do well enough
at first but by the time wheli1 v?e
fight is to be lost or won the strikers are
starved out. The men have scattered
and found other employment and the few
that are left either give it up or resort to
violence and become law breakers and
have to meet the police and the militia.
I've about made up my mind that organ-
ized labor don't pay and I wish they'd
give it up and let us work like men."

"Isn't it a good way to break it up, to
go back to work?" asked Mrs. Duncan.

"I don't mind being called a scab,"
said Duncan mournfully, "but some of
those fellows would just as lief kill me
as not if they could do so without being
found out, and I'm afraid things are so
bad now that any man who goes back to
work for the company would be followed
around by a crowd with clubs and stones,
and that would give those devils their
chance."

"Well, something's got to be done
right off," said Mrs. Duncan, the tears
streaming down her cheeks, for in her
weakened condition from lack of food,
she was unable longer to control herself.

"The children must have food even
if they are not properly clothed. I can't
get washing without taking it away from
some of the other women who need it
just as bad and we must have help some
way. I guess the men wouldn't hurt a
man like you with a wife and children to
support, if they know how it is, and that
we've got to have something to eat."

"Well, I'll see what I can do," and
that night Robert Duncan prayed as he
had never prayed before that his God,

the God of his fathers, would come to
their relief. That he would bring light
and reason to his misguided fellow work-
men, make an end of the uncalled for
estrangement between master and man
and let peace once more reign in
their community to the" end that all
might pursue their daily vocations hon-
orably and live uprightly.

XVII
A BLOOD OFFERING

WITH fJ?e dawn arose Robert Duncan
and after taV\?^ only a cup of coffee
started off to the wor0 He carried no
dinner bucket this time> the little that
was left in the home must te doled out
to the little ones until such tim'd as more
could be provided. To say that !?e was
not afraid would be to put the situ!
untruthfully for he had that proper tYar
of any result that might take away hi
protection to his little family even for a1-
short time. It was a beautiful morning
in May and, as he passed the open fields
that intervened between that part of the
town where he lived and the great mills,
the meadow lark's note came joyfully on
the wind, the fragrance of clover blos-
soms filled the air and peace seemed to
reign over all. Only the heart of man
was disturbed and he wondered why the
Almighty could allow such discord to
prevail when peace was in the fields and
air. It seemed so incongruous and
absurd and his philosophy of life so fu-
tile and unsatisfactory. What right had
any human being or any set of men to
disturb the harmony of the universe?
Yet so it had been since time began.
From great wars to petty quarrels be-
tween individuals of no importance
there was always strife. He could not
comprehend it and like many another
who has attempted to find the key and
failed, he gave it up with a sigh.

As he neared the works certain so
called "pickets" accosted him, to each
and all of whom he frankly said that his

MICHAEL RYAN, CAPITALIST

family was on the verge of starvation and
that he was going to work to save their
lives; and to the credit of the men let it
be said that they did not attempt to
molest him by word or deed until he
came up to the gate of the mill yard
where half a dozen men stood guard.
Those attempted to dissuade him and
insisted that a loyal unionist would let
his family starve before going in. They
warned him that thereafter he would be
classed with the scabs but further
offered no resistance and allowed him
to pass in. When he came out that
evening the group had grown to much
larger proportions and they engaged him
in earnest argument in the effort to
pursuade him that his example would
exert a powerful influence on other men
who were wavering and tried to make
him see the enormity of his crime from
the standpoint of loyal union men ; but he
waved aside all argument and refused
to listen to them, reminding them that
his wife and little ones must be fed.
"If I was alone, boys," said he in a bro-
ken voice and with tears in his eyes, "I'd
stay with you, but I can't see my wife
and babies die when work is to be had
at good wages, and I'm going to work
as long as God will let me, so you might
as well let me alone. The union's all
right till it lets you starve and then it's
all wrong, and you know it and if you
weren't afraid of each other you'd say
so too." A number of these men agreed
with Duncan in their hearts, but either
they had gone too far to retreat or they
were actually afraid to express them-
selves for they allowed one or two blatant
fellows to hurl "scab" after him and
to threaten to "fix him tomorrow."

"All right, boys," called back Duncan
as he strode homeward, "I guess it don't
make much difference whether I'm fixed
by you or by the union. I'll be just as
dead one way as the other."

For several days thereafter, as he came
and went, certain demonstrations were
made and the vile epithets increased

but Robert Duncan never flinched. He
was doing his duty as he saw it in the
sight of God and man and no one could
turn him aside. He, however, made it
a point to emphasize, whenever the op-
portunity came, the position he had
taken, that only actual want had driven
him to return to the mills. That it
was his wife and children for whom he
was sacrificing even honor, as they
looked at it, and that he considered it a
man's duty to sacrifice all — even his
standing among his fellow men, for the
sake of those whom God had placed in
his charge. But as the days succeeded
each other he realized that only a little
thing lay betwen him and destruction.
He frankly confided his fears to his
wife, now a patient watcher at the
bedside of their little daughter Alice,
who had for some days been suf-
fering from a fever that refused to
yield to the plain, old fashioned
home remedies which she was able
to provide. They were so reduced
financially that the thought of a doctor's
bill seemed appalling and they had de-
ferred incurring that expense, hoping
that the child's illness might be only
temporary; but now it had reached the
point of necessity, and, weary and worn
with watching, and fearing they had
taken too much risk in the effort to save
the little they had for food, they finally
sent for a young physician of the neigh-
borhood who at once recognized the
dreaded typhoid. Even this additional
calamity failed to soften the hearts of
the rabid ones among the strikers and
there were those among them who even
in the face of death upbraided Duncan
daily and brutally hoped that any
calamity might come upon him because
he had "gone back on" the union.

The crisis in the disease was approach-
ing and Duncan had sat up through the
whole weary night in order to let his
wife sleep and rest for her duties during
the day. At daybreak he had prepared
a simple breakfast and something for his

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

own lunch and wearily dragged himself
to his work. As he approached the
works it became evident that something
unusual was on and his heart sank as he
approached the crowd.

"Here comes the dirty scab," ex-
claimed one of the men. "Let's stop
him," and the crowd gathered about
him. "Boys," said he, his voice tremb-
ling, "please don't bother me today.
My little Alice is dangerously sick and
I have been up all night. I haven't had
a wink of sleep and am nearly dead my-
self. I must work to pay the doctor.
I don't dare stop now. For God's sake
have a little pity on a man in distress
and let me alone."

"See here, Duncan," said another
who had been drinking heavily and was
in an ugly mood. "This thing has been
going on long enough and you've got to
stop. If we can stand it, you can. and
all that stuff about the kid we've heard
before. Other folks have got sick peo-
ple besides you and you'd better go back
and take care of her."

"I can't go back and I won't," and
the old fire came back into his gray eyes
and he pushed forward through the
crowd. Instantly half a dozen clubs
were raised and he was beaten down to
the earth, two of the brutes striking him
after he had fallen. There he lay un-
conscious and bleeding while the crowd
moved on. But several of the men, be-
coming alarmed because he did not
move, went back and finding him still
bleeding and unconscious and breathing
heavily and irregularly, attempted to re-
vive him by dashing water in his face,
but all to no purpose and they dispatched
a hasty messenger for the nearest doctor.
By the time the doctor arrived Rob-
ert Duncan was past relief. They car-
ried him to his home where his broken
hearted wife, wearied by the long watch-
ing and dumbfounded by the enormity
of her loss, received them in silence
with terror stricken countenance. She
had no words of reproach but broken

in her sorrow could only say as they
laid the cold form of her protector down,
"How could they do it! How could
they do it!"

There was a feeble effort on the part
of the members of the union to help pay
the expenses of his burial, but the poor
fools were helpless. They had no funds
and could get no help from the sympa-
thetic organizations and if it had not
been for the generosity of the mill
owners poor Duncan would have had
scant burial indeed. Some of the strik-
ers made show of attending the funeral
but the widow sent word that she could
not stand it to see any of those murder-
ers there. This term she applied to all
the members of the union as it could not
be ascertained who had actually struck
a fatal blow, and for want of identity and
because she believed it to be so she ever
after maintained that her husband had
been murdered by the union.

XVIII

REFLECTION

AS Michael Ryan matured, his views of
men and life mellowed down to a
point where he was most tolerant of
many of the weaknesses of mankind.
He had never been an extremist, had
never held after the straightest sect of
the Pharisees on any proposition except
the one that a man must work and earn
his own way; and along with that there
had always gone the corollary that a man
had a right to work, that it was his God
given birthright, with which no other
man had a right to interfere. Even the
man who failed was entitled to credit
for all that he did and if it seemed a
matter of hard luck he was entitled to as
much praise as the one who succeeded,
especially if the success seemed also a
matter of good luck. In his own case,
for instance, he gave himself credit only
for the actual labor he had performed
and the frugality with which he had man-
aged. His savings were more to his

MICHAEL RYAN, CAPITALIST

credit than his inventions. Most of his
success was due to good luck. He was
fortunate in having hit upon a machine
which could be used to great advantage.
That was good luck.

He contrasted himself with other men.
There, for instance, was his friend Har-
rison the lawyer. Harrison was a whole
souled, earnest fellow whose pride was to
know the law. He was utterly lacking
in business sagacity and many a man in
his own profession with infinitely less
capacity was doing much better and
making money by taking advantage
of the commercialism which presents
itself in all arts and professions, while
poor Harrison was trying his best to be-
come a great lawyer. Whenever Harri-
son had attempted to branch out and
perform as other alleged lawyers did,
the performance was so grotesque and
clumsy as to seem half criminal and he
would be criticized accordingly. He
little heeded the fact that the ordinary
business man, the lawyer's client, was
not looking for a man who knew the
law, so much as for one who could carry
out his scheme, and Harrison soon fell
into disfavor by telling men that they
had no rights in certain cases, that
they were not entitled to do this and
that. They would go straight off to
Mungries, who would first find out what
his client wanted to do and then assure
him that it could be done as a matter of
course, and, strangest of all, it seemed
that the inferior man succeeded in his
efforts quite as often as the superior;
and yet no one of intelligence could talk
with the two men for five minutes with-
out becoming aware of the infinite chasm
which separated them.

Then there was Armsted the plumber,
a royal good fellow, fine in every way,
with the heart of an ox; whose gener-
osity and fine tact had ministered to
many and many a poor one and who
never turned a beggar away. Armsted
was sober, industrious, everybody liked
him and yet he was always hard

up and seemed never to get ahead.

Then there was Billers the shoe man
— originally a shoe maker, now a shoe
merchant, absolutely without genius of
any kind. He always had time to sit
and gossip even while customers waited.
He could drink more beer than old
Gambrinus himself and half the time
was not in his store. But Billers was
growing rich without apparent merit. It
was simply good luck with Billers.

Then there was Sasson the banker,
small of intellect, narrow in all his views
of life. Honest in money matters only
because he was a coward and feared the
law, but otherwise dishonest in every
way, mean, sneaking and underhanded,
taking advantage of every little techni-
cality, posing as a Christian for the ad-
vantages it gave him over the weaker
brethren, willing to cheat the state in
the matter of taxes, if lying and perjury
could do it, self satisfied, simpering, but
always insignificant and despicable in
the eyes of manly men. It was said of
him that he was so mean that he cut his
own hair and filled his own teeth. Yet
this man was successful in business be-
cause from his youth he had been gnaw-
ing away like a rat, accumulating wher-
ever he could, never giving to any
charity unless it could be advertised fully
and bring the proper return, regarding
all men from the "holier than thou"
standpoint; with no love for his kind
and no compassion in his heart. He
would take the last cent from a poor
widow and her children provided it were
so stipulated in the bond, and would
never relieve any distress that re-
quired a sacrifice on his part. Yet
Sasson was a successful man and a lead-
ing citizen. But it was such as he that
Michael Ryan despised. To him they
were the scum of the earth and hell
had no pit deep enough for them.
Then there was poor Hall, who seemed
to have been born with the mark of
Cain upon him. Hall had struggled
against himself. Here and there he had

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

vanquished but only to fall back again
into deeper woe. Fate had been against
him from the start. His temperament,
his disposition, his melancholia, his
prejudices, his weakness had all been
born in him and Ryan always felt that
if Hall did anything only half-way de-
cent he was entitled to a crown of glory
for it. Defeat was his portion, but Ryan
in his justice never put the same meas-
ure upon him that he did upon other
men. He knew the load that Hall car-
ried and he blamed Providence rather
than Hall for most of his failure and
wrong doing. If Hall had only been
willing to come to him and, confessing
all his weakness and inability to cope
with his nature had thrown himself on
Ryan as upon an elder brother, it would
have delighted Ryan beyond measure
and he would have felt repaid for what
he was often prone to look upon as an
empty, useless life. He needed just such
an outlet for his affection : a dependent
soul who could draw inspiration and
comfort and sustaining grace from the
larger and stronger character would have
been to Ryan the equivalent of children
of his own blood and would have been
compensation for much that had been
otherwise denied him. Indeed, he
yearned for this. His affection for Hall
was peculiar, for he had never outgrown
the simplicity of his youth in this partic-
ular and his early friends were his life
friends through all vicissitudes of ma-
ture existence, and it is fair to say that
had he become a king he would have
always needed the friends of his youth
even though they had become beggars.
His philosophy of life had kept clearly
before him the idea that we are all re-
sponsible for the sins of others, that
organized society in its weakness and
incompleteness is ineffectual to do much
more than "haud the wretch in order;"
that it never reaches below the skin; that'

it converts no one and convinces no one
and that worst of all many of its well
meant regulations drive some peculiarly
constructed natures to the very thing
they should avoid.

His comprehensive vision was large
enough to see all this and yet when it
came to methods he was miserably weak
— at least so he felt.

In the matter of the strike he saw
clearly and comprehended both sides of
the controversy. He was cdhipelled to
concede that just argument might be
made on both sides and yet he was in-
exorable when it came to the question of
interfering with the property rights of
the owners or the personal liberty of the
men who were willing to work. There
was only one side to that and, whatever
just grievance the men had, they had no
right to prevent men who wanted to
work for the company from doing so, or
to prevent the company from carrying
on its operations if it could find men
willing to work.

The murder of Robert Duncan there-
fore came to him with stinging force as
a climax to outrages which had been cul-
minating and nearly drove him to the
point of unreason in his attitude toward
the striking employes. It seemed to
him that the union by permitting such a
thing to occur had put itself deliberately
out of the pale of the law and where it
had no right to expect to be treated in
any other way than as a criminal. It
was all very well to say the union did
not approve of.violence and that the out-
rage had been committed by a few hot
heads, but Michael Ryan knew that if
there were no unions to encourage the
men in their position, there would have
been no strike and none of the distress-
ing things which had grown out of it,
yet he believed in organized labor and
could see a great and useful field for it.

[TO BE CONCLUDED IN NOVEMBER]

THE NEW GAME, PUSHBALL : — A PUSHING MATCH

PUSHBALL, A STRENUOUS NEW GAME

By C. H. Allison

NEW YORK CITY

A POPULAR objection to football is
that most of the play is invisible and
unintelligible to the untutored layman.
Free kicking and spectacular runs of
course appeal to the veriest novice, but
a contest between two evenly matched
.teams as a rule develops nothing more
interesting than a series of scrimmages
in which the observer sees only a mass
of struggling bodies piled up in a heap,
disentangling themselves at intervals
merely to repeat the unavailing on-
slaught. An occasional glimpse of the
ball as it is punted or kicked for goal,
and numerous aggravating delays to per-
mit of the injured being revived or car-
ried off the field, furnish inadequate

diversions to this monotonous perform-
ance. The initiated may be able to fol-
low the plays closely; to the average per-
son without a college education or a
predilection for sports it is incomprehen-
sible, dull, cruel.

This was the way it looked to Mr.
Moses G. Crane, of Newton, Massachu-
setts, who, as the father of three Harvard
football players, in the early nineties wit-
nessed many games at Cambridge.
"Why not make the ball so big that the
spectators can always see it," he asked
some members of the Newton Athletic
Association. The suggestion took root,
and after talking the matter over with
them Mr. Crane in the Fall of 1894 had

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

an air inflated sphere, constructed much
after the manner of a football but six
feet three inches in diameter and weigh-
ing seventy pounds. The first game of
pushball, as it was named, was played
on the grounds of the Newton Athletic
Association shortly after Thanksgiving
Day in that year. A set of rules was
promulgated, conforming largely to
those governing football, and now push-
ball is taking a permanent place in the
category of American sports.

In 1895 the game was introduced at
Cambridge, matches being played be-
tween the students at Harvard and the
Manual Training School. It was not till
1902, however, that pushball obtained
any extended recognition. In that year
the game received fresh impetus from its
simultaneous introduction in New York
and London. Mr. E. V. Hannagan
took a team of American players to Eng-
land and a public demonstration of this
new form of amusement was given at
the Crystal Palace. In New York, Mr.
W. Carsey, manager of Equitable Park,
convinced that pushball would prove
entertaining and attractive to the public,
organized two teams and put his theory
to the test. He was not disappointed.
The game at once became firmly in-
trenched in the favor of those who saw
it.

Pushball is played on a gridironed
field or floor, 1 20 yards long by fifty wide,
with goal posts at either end twenty feet
apart and connected by a cross bar seven
feet from the ground. The mammoth
ball, almost globular in shape, should
measure six feet in diameter and weigh
between forty-eight and fifty pounds.
It is usually inflated with compressed
air. The ball is placed in the middle of
the field and the teams line up as fol-
lows: Five forwards on the forty yard
line, two left and two right wings on the
twenty yard line and two goal keepers
on the goal line — eleven men each. At
the sound of the referee's whistle both
sides plunge at full speed upon the ball.

And then the fun begins. If the ball is
caught fairly between the two human
battering rams there is a rebound from
its elastic sides that sends the players
sprawling like tenpins. It does not
take long, however, for the entire
twenty-two men to get around the sphere,
put their shoulders to the wheel, so to
speak, and push for every ounce of en-
ergy in them. The heavier, stronger
team will of course have the advantage,
but some trick plays have been invented
which lend variety to the game and re-
deem it from being a featureless contest
of mere brawn and muscle.

For instance, a sudden upheaval from
one side will sky rocket the ball over the
heads of the others, or a quick change in
the angle of pressure may force the ball
sideways. When followed up speedily
these tactics invariably result in substan-
tial gains. A sensational play is known
as "stealing the ball." This is accom-
plished much on the principle of "inter-
ference" in football. Eight men of one
team form a "box" and tackle the en-
tire eleven on the other side, giving
three of their forwards a chance to run
the ball down the field for goal. An-
other opportunity for clever headwork
arises when one team has been penal-
ized a second time for fouling, its op-
ponents being given the privilege of a
"flying wedge." The penalized team is
behind the ball, bracing but prohibited
from moving it. The other team lines
up on the opposite side, and on signal
rushes full tilt forward. Instead of hit-
ting the ball "head on," which would
have about as much effect as butting a
stone wall, the attack is so manoeuvred
that the ball is charged in zigzag fashion
and forced out of the "pocket" formed
by the men behind it. This scatters the
defense and gives the "flying wedge"
temporary possession of the sphere.

Under the rules the players may ob-
struct their opponent by the body, and
may tackle and hold. After the ball is
once put in play the men may assume

PUSHBALL, A STRENUOUS NEW GAME

ONE OF THE TRICK PLAYS :— SHOOTING THE BAT.L, OVERHEAD

any position on the field within the rules.
That is to say, the goal keepers and
wings are not obliged to retain their
original stands, but may all join in the
active operations about the ball. A first
penalty entails a loss of ten yards; a sec-
ond penalty the "flying wedge"; fur-
ther penalties being administered of the
same severity in rotation. Pushing the
ball under the cross bar counts five
points; tossing it over, eight points; a
safety, namely, getting the ball across the
goal line but not between the posts, two
points.

Pushball is still in its infancy, but its
promoters hope great things for it. It
is essentially a Fall and Winter sport,
and can be played indoors as well as out.
Indeed, there are more indoor games in
New York than on open fields. The
regimental armories of New York offer
splendid facilities for pushball by rea-
son of their large floor space, but when

necessary the official dimensions and
markings of the "field" can be reduced to
meet the capacity of any restricted area.
The game can be played very nicely on
a floor one-half the regulation size.

Pushball is becoming a favorite recre-
ation among regimental and athletic as-
sociations in New York, and at several
of the larger colleges it is taking hold.
The game is especially popular with
football players after the close of the
season. It can also be played on horse-
back. This variety of the sport has
been witnessed not only in New York
but in Australia, France and other
countries.

Perhaps the expense of the outfit,
the ball alone costing $60, may
militate against the general adoption
of the game; but as a means of public
amusement and harmless, healthful ex-
ercise it is hard to beat. Pushball, hew-
ever, must be seen to be appreciated.

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AT THE END OF THE FURROW

By Ernest McGaffey

Author of "Poems," "Sonnets to a Wife," etc.

LEWISTON, ILLINOIS

CALE STERLING stopped his team
and took a look in the direction of
Jonesburg. "Reckon that must be Doc
Williams," he said to himself. "What's
he out this early for, I wonder?"

The sun had hardly spread out a dull
red glow above the eastern slopes, and
Cale sat on his riding plow and idly
waited until the approaching buggy from
town came around the corner of the field
and halted at the fence.

The occupant, a man of about sixty or
more years, keen and shrewd of face and
erect and stalwart of frame, looked at
the young fellow as he rested on his
plow, and for a moment said nothing ex-
cept the conventional "Howdy". On
the lapel of the elder man's coat was the
bronze button of the Grand Army of the
Republic. There was a dash of the mil-
itary in his bearing, and his nose was
curved like an eagle's beak.

"Cale," he said suddenly, and his eyes
flashed as he spoke, "the Spaniards sunk
a vessel of ours in Havana harbor yes-
terday, and a lot of our boys were
drowned like rats in a trap."

The boy sprang from his plow, a flush
on his tanned cheek, and hurried to the
rails of the stake and rider fence.

"Does that mean war, Doc," he in-
quired eagerly?"

"I don't see it any other way," was
the reply, "and I'm so sure of it that
I'm out "

"For recruits," broke in the young
fellow, lifting his slouch hat from his
forehead and running his hand through
his thick brown hair.

"You've hit it, Cale; I've seen four
already and two are ready to go."

"When you going to enlist 'em?" was
young Sterling's next question.

"Right away," was the response.

"I'm due in town as soon as I can get
back, to start the ball rolling, and I ex-
pect to see Ed Robbins and a few more
of the boys before I reach there. What
say? Do you want to go?"

The young fellow looked at his ques-
tioner proudly.

"You know I want to go," he cried,
and there was a thrill of intensity in his
voice. "I'll unhitch right now and go
on with you to Edwardses. Jim'll go
when he knows I'm going."

He hurriedly unhitched the sorrel
team from the plow and securing the
lines gave them a slap with his gray hat
and they started for the barn.

"They'll go straight for the barn," he
explained to the doctor, "and I'll hol-
ler at Pap as we go by. I'll leave the
plow where it is at the end of the fur-
row."

"You'll have plenty of time to come
back and get ready if there should be
war," said his companion, as the two
men whirled down the road and came
towards the Sterling farm house. Old
man Sterling was out in the yard as they
drew near, his grey hair tumbled and
floating in the morning breeze, and a
scythe in his hand as he sat at a grind-
stone moving the stone with his foot
and sharpening the implement.

"Going to town !" shouted Cale, as the
buggy went past. The old man laid the
scythe by for a moment and said, as his
forehead wrinkled, "Going to town, hey;
what's become of his team?" But he
turned to his work again, and when the
horses put in an appearance he put them
in their stalls and went about his regular
work.

Jenny McCorliss was out in the front
yard of her home when Cale Sterling
came back from town. He passed the

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

McCorliss farm without a glance in the
direction of the girl, who was very busy
training morning glory vines around the
porch. She was not so busily occupied
but what she saw Cale go by, and she
watched him stealthily to see if he would
look towards the house. But he went
blithely on his way without a glance to-
wards his sweetheart.

They had quarrelled at the "literary"
and he had said to her, "you'll be the
one to come and make up, or there won't
be any making up at all."

She had laughed at him, and told him
that he was too sure of himself, and that
it was time he was getting more reasona-
ble and less proud. But the days had
gone by and the weeks had passed and
somehow reconciliation was further away
as time slipped on.

It seemed as if a knife had been driv-
en to her heart when she heard of Gale's
enlistment; and a dull ache came with
each recurring dawn when he went
away. For the war came, and Cale and
Edwards and many more of the boys
from around Jonesburg had gone away
with a regiment which had been raised
mainly through the energy and determin-
ation of Doc Williams.

Old man Sterling had said little. On
his coat, when the grizzled grey beard
did not hide it, could be seen the Grand
Army button. On Bunker Hill monu-
ment was the name of one of his
mother's people.

As he explained it without any boast-
ing,he "came of fighting stock naturally,
and Cale would have disappointed his
daddy if he had hung back when the flag
was attacked."

He left the riding plow at th*.endof
the furrow. "If Cale gets back he can
go ahead with the work," he said. He
went about his daily tasks with the same
methodical care which had been his
habit, and mingled with his neighbors
cheerfully.

But to the girl the waiting was a heavy
burden. From the vine clad porch of

her Tennessee home she had watched
the sun go down and had never failed to
look towards the town in a vain hope
that she might see Cale Sterling coming
back. As the months faded and word
had come that his regiment was in the
field, and that it had been engaged with
the enemy, her anxiety increased.

Cale's father had received three letters
from his boy, and they told of voyages
at sea, waving palm trees, drilling, rifle
practice, strange peoples, and burning
tropical suns. The father smiled grimly
to himself as he read the words "rifle
practice." If they had any better rifle
shots in the army than Cale he'd like to
know it. Tennessee riflemen were known
in Andrew Jackson's day, and "a squir-
rel's head at a hundred yards" was a
good old rule that was applicable still.

The months rolled around from Sum-
mer to Winter and to Summer again.

The war was over and the Stars and
Stripes had been hoisted in Havana.
Cale Sterling had somehow dropped out
of sight. He had been sick, he had
been wounded, he had gotten well and
had started for home, he was going to
reenlist — all this and more Jenny Mc-
Corliss had heard through the neighbors
who occasionally saw old man Sterling.
But how heavily the time dragged on to
her, no one could have told but her-
self. A thousand times she blamed her-
self for not having sent him a goodbye
message before he left, but it was too late
now.

Yet she said to herself again and
again, "If he comes back I'll make up."
The Summer wore on and deepened into
Autumn. It was time for the Fall plow-
ing. The riding plow, stained and rusty,
stood where Cale had left it. The oaks
and hickories were beginning to turn red
and yellow. The morning glories had
withered to mere strings of russet, and
the haze of a dreamy quiet filled the air.
The girl, dreamy as the season, sat on
the side porch and watched the road.

"Cale Sterling's home!" shouted her

AT THE END OF THE FURROW

younger brother as he caught her sun
bonnet up from the porch and tied the
strings in a fit of mischief. He threw
the bonnet down again and disappeared
in the house. A wave of joy almost
overwhelmed her. Cale Sterling home!
She followed the boy into the house
where he was excitedly telling the news.
Cale had arrived the night before. He
was going right on with the Fall work.
He was looking fine, and had a medal.

Early the next morning the girl was on
her way to the Sterling farm. A bevy
of quail ran across the. road in front of
her, and turtle doves crossed overhead,
their swift wings cleaving the air in rapid
flight. As she reached the gate she saw
a team come from the barn, and driving
them was Cale. He came close up be-
fore he saw her. He was thinner and
if possible straighter and handsomer
than when he went away. On his head
was a yellow military hat, but there was

nothing else about him to mark the sol-
dier unless it was his bearing, which in-
sensibly reminded her of Doc Williams.

His face paled through the bronze as
he saw her. He pulled up the team
sharply.

"Jenny," was all that he could say.
Her lips trembled, and at first, to hide
her embarrassment, she said: "Where are
you going, Cale?"

"Down to get my plow," was his reply
as he looked at her wonderingly.

She stepped forward. "I've come to
make up, Cale," she cried, as the pent
up sorrow of all those months of waiting
rained down her pale cheeks.

He put his arms around her without a
word.

Then, driving the horses with one
hand, and with his right arm around her,
she crying and he comforting her, they
went over the brow of the hill and across
toward the end of the furrow.

THE FOUNDERS * By Nathan Haskell Dole

POEM FOR THE DEDICATION OF A MEMORIAL TO THE EARLY
SETTLERS, NEWBURY, JUNE 17, 1905

HOWEVER far we roam
Our hearts are filled with longing for the home
Where all our old associations center: —
The tiny village by the placid river,

The weather-beaten farm-house on the hill
Which we can never enter

Without a joyous thrill,
Or think of now without an eyelid's quiver.

How dear those ne'er forgotten places:
The room where first we saw the light,
The fireplace where each bitter Winter's night,

The great logs, blazing, brightened the fond faces

Of Loved Ones now forever vanisht: —

The cheerful Father who all trouble banisht,
The brave, unselfish Mother, crowned with holy graces,

Whose hand and thought ne'er rested

From care for those that 'neath her roof -tree nested;
The sisters and the brothers full of life

54 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

In eager emulation free from strife.
We seek the attic where on rainy days
We used to find delight in simple plays

Brest in the quaint garb of the long ago
Dragged out from some deep cedarn chest: —

A revolutionary uniform that would make glow
Keen military ardor in the young lad's breast;

A bridal costume of rich silk brocade

To deck the merry little maid,
Who — God be praised : — should never know
The heart-break it bore silent witness of—
The ruptured wedding, the forgotten love!
There stood the well-carved spinning-wheel

With twisted strands of flax
Like maiden's hair: —

With what untiring zeal
We spun it round; how strong to bear
Our manifold barbarian attacks!
Oh how the rafters echoed to our capers!
What rumbly rocking-chairs we liked to drive!

What joy to dive

Deep into barrels with their musty papers,
Ill-printed century-old Almanacks
With words of wisdom mingled with predictions —
Poor Richard's proverbs, Thomas' racy fictions

And yellow journals — yellow with old age,

With bits of history on each page.
And all the time the rain upon the roof
Would patter tinkling monotones for our behoof.

Or mindless of the downpour, older grown,
We found a pleasure tramping thro the fields

Tracing the crystal brook. Those days have flown;

No modern trout-stream yields
Such specked beauties as we used to catch!
The fish and our young appetites were made to match!

And shall we pass without a word
The low, unpainted Schoolhouse? How absurd
That all the mighty river of our Knowledge,

Swelled full by years at College,
Took its first rise within that tiny hall!
Yet we recall

That there we earliest heard
The royal accents of our English tongue —

Creation's Hymn by Milton sung,
The scenic splendors Shakespeare wrought.

There were we taught
True pride in Liberty to feel

For which our Grandsires fought!
And so those seats rough, hard, knife-hacked;
Those narrow walls, that ceiling blacked,

THE FOUNDERS 55

Seem like a sacred shrine
Whence streams a glory national and divine
That makes us kneel!

II.

Ev'n as we to our Childhood's home return

So come the scattered clans
To visit the ancestral seat where burn

The altar-fires of Man's
Unquencht devotion to his Race.
And ancient Newbury is such a sacred Place!
Here, in the early days, when Danger lurked

At every turn;
When bush or boulder ruthless worked

Its fatal spell
And tomahawk or flint-sharp arrow fell

On pious Pilgrims unaware;
When every forest covert was the lair
Of prowling wolf or sneaking bear,
Along the pleasant reaches of this stream
Where now, as then, the sunbeams love to gleam,

And sweet reflections dream,
Settled the sturdy Founders, men of mark,

Undaunted, howe'er dark
The storm might threaten, whate'er doom
Might strike them from its purple gloom.
God-serving Pilgrims, full of grave intent,
Accepting, solemn-glad, their banishment

From England's unmaternal heart,
Here planted they the seed

From which should start
A mighty Race to vanquish and to lead!

It were a welcome meed

To ring out in strong lines each yeoman name
Of those high souls who hither came!
From them, by intermarriage, thro long years

A thousand thousand woven ties —

The links of mingled destinies,
Cemented by the Alchemy of tears
For common sorrows, common fears,
Bind us their children's children subtly clanned.
From all the cities of our splendid land,

From sleepy village and from upland farm

Drawn by a magic charm,
We come to shake the proffered hand
Of Brotherhood !
Ah! It is good

To pledge the Friendship that shall hold
Our hearts in union pure as gold.

We come to honor the Departed,

56. NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

The Great-hearted,

The Founders whose low, moss-grown graves
The quiet River laves.

Silent they lie; but mayhap around us now

Unseen, unheard, a solemn host they bow,
Participating in these festal rites,
Rejoicing in this day and its serene delights.

Hail to you, honored Dead,

Who once with stately tread
Passed these fair streets along !

Ye little knew what strange

Portentous, mighty change
Should work to make a pygmy grow into a Giant godlike- strong!

How from the feeble fringe

Of white that scarce could tinge
The vast, wide continent

Should spread a Nation grand

To occupy the land
In all the length and breadth of its magnificent, unknown extent:

That all the tribes of earth

Should here obtain new birth
In Liberty and Peace,

That wealth beyond compute

Should wax as waxed the fruit
On yonder fields in year to year's ten-million-fold increase.

Hail to you, honored Sires!
A Hymn of praise to you shall rise,

Accompanied by a thousand tuneful lyres,
To you the Faithful, you the Pious, you the Good and Wise!

EDMUND CL*DENCE STEDMAN

By Yone Noguchi

Author of "From the Eastern Sea", Japan of Sword and Love," etc.

TOKYO, JAPAN

ONCE Mr. Stedman (why is it I was obliged to appear in the banking
cannot mention him without em- parlor or in the Stock Exchange. Re-
ploying Mr.?) said somewhere, — yes, member, however, he carried poetry in-
in his stanzas on Shelley's "Ariel": to the banking business, and not the
" * * * * Like thee, I vowed to dedicate banking business into poetry! It would
My power to beauty; aye, but thou didst be great if you could worship and burn
keep incense and serve the deities and muses
Thy vow." exclusively. But I should say it would
Surely he frequently acknowledged be greater if you, while making daily
and deplored his defection from the bread, could be influenced unconsciously
muses' train of loyal subjects, since he and guided continually by the real prin-

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN

ciples of Beauty. It seems to be impor-
tant first to be a Man. Woe unto the
poet who wants to secure the immortelles
of the muses and would look to the
muses for a daily shower of manna, in
this age and country of activity and nec-
essity of money! I am sure that the
poet is nothing if he fails in making a
man of himself and allows himself to
suffer for the comforts of a good home.
It is great for Mr. Stedman to strike the
golden mean, and still greater for him
since he can keep acquaintance with the
sacred nine at the same time. True,
there is nobody in America, and per-
haps in Europe, who has done so much
and has worked so conscientiously and
tirelessly for the cause of poetry. And
yet he is the business man and the be-
loved father. He realized what Byron
wrote Tom Moore just before sailing in
defense of Greece: "A man ought to do
something more for society than write
verses." I agree with Lafcadio Hearn,
who preached to his Japanese students
that they should never in the world start
life as writers. That they should make
living expenses with something else.
They will be apt, if they do not, to bur-
den their songs with references to woes
which are all too common, and to add
to the sorrows of their fellow sufferers.
We have had enough sadness in poetry.
We need more happiness. I do not see
any more well balanced poet than Sted-
man. I confess he is not my own taste.
He is not salty and peppery enough.
But he is a poet, — an elegantly dressed
poet, too. In his work we have thoughts
for the patriot, sighs for the lover, wit
and wisdom, songs grave and gay,
noble sentiments, and some religious
spirit also. In one word, he is the
gentlemanly poet. He never goes to
the extreme.

"Did you send a copy to Mr. Sted-
man?" I was always asked by my friends
in California, where I published my first
two books. Really, we looked upon him
as a gate keeper of Parnassus, into which

we wished to point our footsteps. Once
I received a note from Arthur Stedman
(how I wished it was Edmund Clarence!
I was one of those who loved autographs
of the good and great) saying that his
father was grateful for my "Voice of the
Valley" (my second book) and was too
feeble to hold a pen. I thought ever
after that he was almost dying. To my
utmost surprise, he was the most lively
little old gentleman, whose blue eyes, —
yes, Burns' eyes also were blue —
sparkled kindly and vividly, when I met
him first. Where? And how?

I was exceedingly talkative on that
evening at the dinner table. It was three
or four years ago. They invited me to
the New York Players' club, that time
I was fresh from London. As I said,
I was verily talkative. So I am, once
in a while. Remember, not so often,
since Joaquin Miller's first lesson he gave
me some ten years ago was that silence
is golden. I talked on books and men.
I talked on my seeing a duchess in Lon-
don and sitting in the Poets' Corner of
Westminster Abbey! I talked about my
opinion of "The Darling of the Gods."
There was no one who did not ask me
how I liked the play. The play was first
staged in those days. By the way, how
charming Miss Bates was as the Japan-
ese princess! I was called to give at-
tention to an old, grey gentleman who
sat two or three tables away. Tom
Walsh said: "He is Stedman."

I jumped up suddenly, to my friend's
amaze. I quietly approached his table
and introduced myself, — "I am Yone
Noguchi." He looked at me first sus-
piciously, and later on, happily. And
he exclaimed: "Really! Really! lam
glad you were not a myth." We shook,
hands to our hearts' content. I felt as if
he was an old friend at the first glance.
So he was. It is not only with him that
"Yone Noguchi" was supposed to be a
phantom. Many people fancied that
Gelett Burgess (dear Frank as I call
him) was masquerading.

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER

him) was masquerading under the Japan-
ese kimono. Quite often I had read such
a thing even in papers and magazines.
I appeared to Mr. Stedman as Yone
Noguchi in flesh and blood. So he was
aghast at first.

Once he invited me to the Authors'
club. He received me with showers of
smiles. (How kind he was, in appear-
ing on that evening of penetrating cold!)
We sat in a corner and talked poetry.
He was eager to hear the news of the
younger poets of London. He cast the
most interesting eyes always over the
young man's production. He loved the
young writers. He didn't wish to talk
about the already established ones. He
was the young man's sponsor. There in
New York is no young man who does not
receive encouragement from him.

"How do you live, Mr. Noguchi?
How do you make your living? Pardon
me for asking such an impolite ques-
tion! But I am sure I am qualified to,
as I am old enough to be your father,"
he said suddenly. And he told me that
ntaking a living by writing was the most
wretched sort of thing. But he made
me assure him that I shall never forget
to love Beauty and sing songs. "Like a
nightingale on Spring morn," he ex-
claimed.

There was quite a gathering of well
known personages. I met Poultney
Bigelow, who counts many princes and
ambassadors, — he will also call up half
a hundred Japanese celebrities in one
minute, — among his friends. There
was the professor of Chinese with the
impossible German name, who once

talked with Li Hung Chang. And
there was Mr. Conway. full of reminis-
cences of Huxley and Spencer. I was
sincerely delighted to hear from him that
he once employed Tatsui Baba (the won-
derful revolutionist who has been dead
many years) to translate from Japanese
mythology, when Baba was hard up in
London. Doubtless Baba breathed Mr.
Conway's rich breath and touched his
kind hand. He said that Japan must
keep Buddhism. She is gone, he saidj
if she shalj adopt Christianity. He de-
nounced Christianity with might.

I and Mr. Stedman talked on Joaquin
(the poet of the Sierras) and Miss Cool-
brith — that sweet California singer.
And we wondered how many easterners
heard and appreciated her golden voice.
I showed Mr. Stedman a copy of Lon-
don Punch which happened to be in my
pocket. It had the clever parody on my
London book, "From the Eastern Sea,"
by Owen Seaman. "That's great! I
never had such an honor in my life.
You must have been successful in Lon-
don. It shows all that," he said, and
held my hand tightly.

We left the club very late. It was
twelve o'clock. We both took the
Broadway car down town. I bade him
goodnight and left him at Madison
Square. It was such a night with the
shining moon. My footsteps were light,
the breezes played with my coat sleeves.
I shall never forget the treatment Mr.
Stedman gave me.

How beloved he is among the younger
people! He will be eternally remem-
bered as a dear gentleman.

HOKKU

By Yone Noguchi

(From ''Japan of Sword and Love")

WHERE the flowers sleep,
Thank God ! I shall sleep, tonight.
Oh, come, Butterfly !

FALLEN leaves! Nay, spirits?
Shall I go downward with thee
'Long a stream of Fate ?

THE RED CRAVAT

By Stanley Waterloo

Author of "A Man and a Woman," "The Story of Ab," etc.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

THE relations between young Marion
Durand and his semi-fiancee, Miss
Evelyn Reed, were something exquisite.
Each was cultivated, each had keen per-
ceptions and each appreciated the fact
that one was born for the other. They
were perfectly happy only when together
and yet there was just a blemish, just
one little spot on the full blown rose of
their relationship. The blemish was
perceived only by Miss Reed, but the
fact that Durand failed quite to compre-
hend it did not help the situation. In
affairs of this sort the lady is, necessarily,
the arbiter. She is judge, jury and, upon
occasion, executioner.

The pair have been just referred to as
existing under a semi-engagement. A
semi-engagement, as all the tactful world
knows, is a mutual understanding be-
tween two people that some day they
will be united in marriage, but without
any absolutely definite arrangement as
to time and place. This indefiniteness,
in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred,
comes from the attitude of the woman.
Anything but an ardent and expressed
desire on the part of the man for a fixed
wedding day, as society is organized,
may be considered either weak or
wicked. Nothing paltry, nothing even
conservative, is allowed him in his atti-
tude. He must — to be neat and alliter-
ative— "press persistently." If he fail
in this not only must doubt be cast upon
his earnestness, but, worst of all, it is
bad form.

Durand failed in nothing. He labored
strenuously to induce Miss Reed to
select some particular hour of some
day in some month and week when
she would become his wife. He was
frightfully in love and did even more
than the conventionally required plung-

ing forward under the spur of his heart's
desire. Miss Reed was in love almost as
thoroughly as Durand— for he was a most
attractive and desirable young man — but,
as is often the case with tentative brides,
she chanced to be a woman. Being a
woman, and an adorable one, by the
way, she had something of the "my
prince must be a hero" element in her
composition; and it was because Durand
was but a great big, handsome, straight-
forward, educated business man and
nothing more nor less, one who had
never done any deed of derring-do to
speak of, unless it may have been the
casual licking of somebody in his cal-
low days, that the cup of her content
lacked bubbles over the brim. She
wanted him to "do something" for her
sake and she did not hesitate to tell him
so.

"I'd do anything for you, that is, any-
thing that would be all right, and you
know it, Evelyn," was the only answer
occurring to the perplexed suitor, on
such occasions as she expressed herself
in a more than ordinarily accentuated
mood. "I can't rush down and deter-
mine what the Yucatan ruins really mean,
because an expedition into those forests
would cost more money than I've got
and it would take a long time. I can't
break into congress from the district I
live in, for it would take more money
and a longer time to down old Dever-
eaux, and I can't do any of the other
things you would probably suggest more
easily. But anything that requires just
a dash I'll try to accomplish for you.
Won't you accept that? Can't you think
of some little whirl that will show my
earnestness, and yet not take me away
from you, something which will show
you that I'm game? Do that and I'm

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

with you. And then we'll get married!"

Miss Reed was in despair. What
could be done with such eminently prac-
tical heroics.

"You do not understand," was all she
said. And so the relations drifted on
between the two, Durand practical and
pleading, and the lady still hesitant
about giving herself finally to one who
lacked, seemingly, some of the attributes
of the hero whose image she had cher-
ished beyond her girlhood.

They remained affectionate, the two,
and were so close in all things that their
friends laughed at what they called their
"domesticity;" but the question of a
wedding day remained. Marion still
suffered under what he called an "inde-
terminate sentence" of hoping against
hope. And so the months passed.

Physically, Durand was up to all the
requirements of even his much demand-
ing sweetheart. "He was tall, he was
dark, he was haughty of mien," though
his haughtiness chanced to be but the
evidence of a decent bashfulness; while
his eyes were what are called piercing,
though they pierced nothing in particu-
lar, and his moustache of the large,
raven's wing variety. He had, in a gen-
eral way, a knight of old air blended
with the modern practical; he was good
to his mother and stuck to business and
wondered whether he liked Ibsen or
not. But it was his dark, mysterious
look which had first attracted the object
of his passion.

If her highest conceptions were not
met by the deeds of her sweetheart, Miss
Reed at least delighted in his outside
personality, and (so unaffectedly and
gently close were their relations) uncon-
sciously to herself had begun to assume
a somewhat arbitrary attitude. She sug-
gested the style of hat he should wear
and directed him in various things of
that sort. As for him, he but obeyed
blindly. He was her manikin if she de-
sired. His own tastes were modest; he
never wore glaring things, but he didn't

mind obeying her occasional suggestions.
There came a day when Miss Reed,
on a shopping tour, saw a cravat in a
window. If she had failed to see that
tie it would have been a marvel, for half
the town had seen it. It shone in the
midst of the cravat filled window of a
gentlemen's furnishing store and caught
firmly, for a fiery instant, the attention
of the passing multitude. It was large,
what is known as of the four in hand
order of ties, and was of a general color
to which no man could give a name. It
was orange and yet was not an orange
for it suggested at the same time vivid
scarlet. It was a flame and yet a flash
light. The only contrast to the glare
was furnished by polka dots of startling
white on the red blaze, and they were
but intensifying. The orange suggested
at first the flashing color of the oriole
and one thought of orchards or the elms;
the next moment a flamingo rose from
some Florida sand bar and the rays of
the midday sun were dwarfed. There
were a few other colors which did not
match. Appalled at first, then fascinated,
Miss Reed stood before the window and
studied that revelation of Earth's Last
Day, when comes the general conflagra-
tion and, by degrees, her curiosity over-
came her first alarm, for she was natu-
rally gifted with taste in colors and all
contrasts. It was a case like that of
Vice, which

" Seen too oft, familiar with its face,

We first endure, then pity, then embrace."

She began to wonder where the mar-
velous, sinister, burning thing could
ever find its setting? What should be
about that blaze compared with which
the heart of the opal was as snow, or the
electric light a shadow? Talk about the
fascination of your cobra or your basil-
isk or your Ancient Mariner! W7eak,
absurd things. Then came a sudden, aw-
ful solution of the question, a quicken-
ing, wondrous inspiration, making all
things easy. Upon one place in all the

THE RED CRAVAT

world could that bit of sheet lightning
rest where it must contrast wildly and
yet blend properly with dark surround-
ings, and, though furiously inartistic in
itself, aid in the making of a grand ar-
tistic whole. There flashed upon her an
inspiration. But one man in existence
could wear that flaming tie, and he, that
one man, her own swarthy lover!

She bought the tie — and a most ex-
pensive tie it was — and took it home
with her to await the evening when Du-
rand was to call. When home, she
opened for an instant the box in which
the thing rested and the ceiling gave
forth a swift, grim radiance. She closed
the box again. "How it will appeal to
him!" she sighed ecstatically.

Durand came in the evening, pleaded
as usual, was, as the common people say,
"turned down'1 as usual, and, as usual,
contented himself and was moderately
happy. It was quite late, and after they
had been almost sentimental together,
that Miss Reed produced the tie. It
burned vividly but Durand was in a state
of daring exaltation. "Fine tie," he
said.

She told him, in a woman's way, how
she had discovered it in a window and
had at once perceived that it was just
the thing for his dark style of manly
beauty. What man could resist such an
appeal to his personal vanity, coupled
with the knowledge that the woman he
loved had been thinking of him, even on
a shopping tour? Besides, h~ LvJ great
confidence in her artistic judgment.
"I'll wear it tomorrow," he said.

When they parted that night the equa-
tion between them was so nearly perfect
that Miss Reed almost decided that he
was worthy of anything and that she
would marry him anyhow soon, and, as
for him, he was just simply and loftily
elated. Would he wear any kind of a
tie suggested by her? Well, rather!

He did not that night open the box
containing that tie. He threw his clothes
on hurriedly after his bath next morn-

ing and only saw. the tie in its Alaric,
Genghis Kahn, Timur, Napoleon de-
stroying intensity when he had put it on.
He looked at it, and as it not merely
shouted but roaringly commended itself
there was a jump from the mirror, and
an endeavor to collect himself, as he sat
down weakly in a chair. He meditated
almost tremblingly, but with reason.
"It's nothing but apiece of cloth," he
said. "It is— it is— I don't know what
— but it's from Her! I'll wear it any-
how." And he sallied forth, the bravest
man in all Chicago.

Upon the street he went and toward
the station, for he came down town by
the swift suburban train. Among his
friends, indeed among the closest of
them, was Armidam, of the Central
Trust Company, good man and fond
of dogs. Armidam's most cherished
possession was the great dog Jove, a
monster St. Bernard, a winner of the
first prize in the latest dog show. Ar-
midam had his great dog with him, the
monster St. Bernard, "gifted with al-
most human intelligence," who followed
him each morning to the train, and then,
his grave duty performed, went sedately
home again. The hastening Durand
caught up with Armidam and his dog.

The usual morning greetings were
exchanged between the men and they
rushed through the station and to the
platform overlooking the railroad track.
Up to this point the two men had walked
side by side together, the dog a little be-
hind. Upon the station platform they
turned squarely front to front, talking
business as the train rushed down be-
side them.

The dog, the great -St. Bernard, the
ideal in quadrupeds of his class, order,
family, genus, species and variety, gave
one good natured upward look at Durand,
now squarely facing him. He gave one
look, then plunged over the station plat-
form, sheerly in front of the in-coming
train and was gathered in and ground
into lifelessness in an instant. Subse-

quently they found most of what was left
of him artistically wrapped in even lay-
ers about the wheels of the rear truck of
the rear car of the suburban train.

Armidam gave one look at Durand, a
look demanding awful, sudden sympathy
and then his eyes met the neck tie. He
stood and choked. He understood.
He was thinking of his glorious St.
Bernard but, still, he was reasoning.
He looked again at Durand, gasped and
hesitated as his eyes fell a little and
then, all his manhood asserting itself,
broke out in Anglo-Saxon:

"You've killed my dog with your
neck tie! No wonder he jumped in front
of the train! You've killed my dog!
And you've got to pay for him! He
won first prize at the last show! I've
been offered #1,600 for himl You must
pay for the dog!"

Durand was astonished. He hadn't
thought of consequences like this be-
fore. But he must pay for the dog.
justice was justice.

"I'll pay you $500 for the dog," he
gasped and he leaped for the train.

Of course he thought after he had
found a seat in the train. Almost any
man thinks after he has leaped upon a
train, after a tragedy, especially if he be
a suburbanite. Durand thought and he
thought hard. He was already what is
popularly known as "in a hole," and he
knew it. He wanted to throw the neck
tie out of the open car window, but his
natural grit revolted. So he settled him-
self down to be a solitary, threatening
volcano. He looked across the aisle of
the car, this man with the extraordinary
social and physiological and psychologi-
cal hoodoo upon him, and saw there two
people whom he knew well.

The two opposite -were a well known
banker and a more or less prosperous
widow. The widow was forty and fair.
The banker was sixty and rich, and the
banker had become enamored of the
widow and they were engaged. Of the
widow it may be said briefly that she

belonged, by inheritance or otherwise,
to the laissez faire, the merrily "let 'er
go" group of the world, though she was
of a fine sort, speaking generally. She
was in earnest in her engagement with
the stubborn old banker for really senti-
mental as well as business reasons,
though business is business. The
banker was thoroughly and jealously in
love and was, furthermore, possessed of
an apoplectic tendency.

The woman, clever as she was, had a
weakness which is sometimes semi-tragic
in its consequences. Whenever she
saw a startlingly droll thing she must
laugh. She could not help it. As Du-
rand sat down pantingly in his seat
across from the banker and his inamo-
rata, the lady chanced to look up and
stare him squarely in the face and
bosom. Then she turned red and then
pale, gasping inconsequently the while.
Durand smiled broadly and leaned to-
ward her, half extending his hand in
grinning forgetfulness and she, surmis-
ing in the fraction of a second that she
had been assumed as a confidant in some
awful jest, started to reach her respon-
sive hand to him behind her escort, who
was sitting next to the aisle. But the
hands were never clasped. Her eyes
had never left the neck tie and she sud-
denly leaned forward sobbingly, to all
appearance, just as the banker turned
glaringly upon Durand. He looked too
high and did not see the necktie and
thought, naturally, that the two were
parting forever. What past history was
behind all this? The banker grasped
the side of the seat, rose unsteadily with
ruddy countenance, gurgled hoarsely and
tried to say something, then lurched for-
ward along the aisle, fell and began
flopping up and down in a most alarm-
ing manner. It was not an apoplectic
stroke but it was some sort of a fit which
created wild confusion in the car as the
train stopped at the Van Buren street
station, where the unconscious man was
taken off and transferred to a cab, ac-

THE RED CRAVAT

companied by the now weeping widow,
who, as she left, gave one glance at Du-
rand so full of reproach that he would
never have forgotten it, had he under-
stood it. The woman feared that the
engagement was inevitably off, but that
was not comprehended by the cause of
all the trouble. He walked slowly to-
ward Michigan avenue, amazed and
dazed but soon to be alert of thought
and step again.

In a purblind sort of fashion, Durand
drifted into line with the other scores of
passengers on the suburban train , walked
down the slope toward Michigan Avenue
and then northward on the East side of
that thoroughfare, intending to turn
west in Jackson boulevard. He was
just stepping from the sidewalk at the
intersection of the boulevard and the
avenue, when a vision bore down upon
him from the westward which trans-
formed him in a moment into the hap-
piest faced man in all the city. The
vision consisted of Miss Reed in her
new automobile, driven by a man reput-
ed to be one of the finest chaffeurs in
the United States. More than a mere
chaffeur, too, was this gentleman at the
wheel, for, in his native France, he had
been an artist, not a successful one, it is
true, but an artist, nevertheless, with an
eye for the perfect or the awful in all
colors and with a nature so nervous and
sensitive that the quality amounted al-
most to a disease. Failing at art, he had
come to America, where, with privation
facing him, he had become a chaffeur
and one of the very best. Mr. Reed,
careful of his daughter, had imported
from the East this most reliable and ad-
mirable of characters.

The automobile came whirling around
southward from the boulevard, describ-
ing the outside of a segment of a circle
which was perfect in its smooth com-
pleteness, and the whole picture, the
handsome conveyance, the immovable
and supposably imperturbable chaffeur
and the beauty in the tonneau, was such

as to attract the instant admiration of
the mass of people from the in-coming
train who were about to cross the street.
But this admiration lasted only for the
fraction of a second; then it changed to
alarm and that of a sort which trans-
formed an orderly string of pedestrians
into a mob scrambling frantically for
anywhere.

As already said, Durand was just
stepping upon the crossing as the auto-
mobile swung around. He was not ten
feet distant from the passing vehicle,
and the eyes of the chaffeur could not
but comprehend him and all his details.
What happened was something beyond
description. There was one wild second
glance from the man driving the ma-
chine, then his arms twitched, affected
with a paralysis as sudden as paralysis
could come, while his eyes assumed
a glassy stare to match his suddenly
paling face. He was sitting helpless,
all control of the automobile lost to him,
while the machine itself, taking a sudden
veer to the eastward, stormed at the side-
walk, which it overleaped gracefully, and
turned suddenly south in a manner which
would have left death and destruction in
its trail, had not everybody, by some
miraculous dispensation, managed to
leap or roll or fall out of the way on either
side. It tore southward, veering slightly
toward the middle of the park and head-
ed directly for the Logan monument, the
monument which stands upon the crest
of a great artificial mound. It reached
the base of the mound, ran to the top,
then hesitated for a moment and came
backward.- There had been an accumu-
lation of thin Spring ice, and, at an up-
ward angle of forty-five degrees, the
wheels of no automobile in all the world
could hold their grip there. The ma-
chine shot backward away upon the
plane of the park and then forward again
to attempt the ascent once more. It
kept doing that. The chaffeur remained
in his place in a state of uttermost imbe-
cility. Miss Reed, in the rear, sat

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

white faced and apparently .too weak to
cry aloud.

Meanwhile things were happening all
about, with a degree of celerity never
before surpassed or even equaled upon
the lake shore side of the great city.
Durand had seen it all, had seen the
automobile suddenly running to destruc-
tion with the idol of his heart, and had
started wildly, though of course in-
effectually, in pursuit. Some hundreds
of other people, shouting hoarsely, start-
ed with him; all did their best.

Meanwhile, something effectual was
beinor s-,vili.ly done elsewhere. Just op-
posite the monument, on the west side
of the avenue, a retired railroad presi-
dent witnessed from his residence the
first inception of the assault of the auto-
mobile upon the monument. He was a
man of action. He had saved trains in
his time. He sprang to his telephone
and within a minute had called up the
police and fire departments, commanding
them to rush to the Logan monument
upon the instant, and would have called
out the militia if he had known just whom
to summon. There was a rush from all
directions; the insurance patrol, the po-
lice patrol wagons from the nearest sta-
tions, the engines and the hook and lad-
der companies— everything — seemed to
reach the monument at about the same
time. The fire and police forces and
the pursuing throng from the foot of Van
Buren street, of whom Durand was easily
in the lead, came swirling about the
monument together, though, necessarily
leaving a space about the automobile,
which was still charging up -the slope,
sliding backward and charging again.
It had already made its sixteenth dash
upon the pedestal at the summit.

All that happened at this critical in-
stant happened with suddenness. Al-
most foremost upon the scene, tumbling
from the slight buggy in which he had

always reached a fire before his engines
and his men, was the veteran fire chief,
the hero of a thousand struggles with
the dangerous element which it had
been his duty to encounter. A man of
quick comprehension, of swift decision
and of instant action was the old chief.
He ran almost into Durand's arms. He
gave one look at the young man — and —
that settled it.

The chief did not know yet just what
was going on in the park about the mon-
ument, but years of battling with strange
circumstances had taught him that when
things were going wrong, the first thing
to do was to remove the cause. He
knew in his soul, he felt it from head to
heel, and his instantaneous second
thought determined it — he knew that
whatever was happening in that park
was caused by Durand's neck tie. He
did not hesitate a moment; he leaped
upon the astonished young man, tore
away the neck tie and cast it upon the
ground, where the ice seemed to melt
away beneath it, and the very roots of
the hidden grass begin to crackle.

All was ended in almost no time, now.
The exhausted automobile at last refused
the climb; intelligence came into the
chaff eur's eyes again and strength to his
limp muscles. He turned the machine
slowly, facing toward the highway. The
pink came again into the fair counten-
ance of Miss Reed, as Durand, hatl^ss
and cravatless, dashed forward and lifted
her to the ground.

Of what happened afterward, it is
needless to tell, save that Miss Reed had
comprehended all that had occurred at
the foot of Jackson street, saw what had
benumbed her driver and had imperiled
her own life. Later, she heard, of
course, of the incident of the dog and of
the banker and the widow. And Du-
rand had worn that tie for her sake!

She had found her hero!

RALPH KEELER OF VAGABONDIA

By Charles Warren Stoddard

Author of "Exits and Entrances," "Islands of Tranquil Delight," etc.

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

A CERTAIN fraternal society had
announced a ball for a charitable
object, and Ada Clare and I had been
begged "of our pity" to bear witness
to it. She was not yet inured to wild
western ways, and the friend who accom-
panied us felt sure that she, at least,
would enjoy the spectacle. San Fran-
cisco was then about fifteen years of age
and perhaps a trifle frisky.

We had not been long in the hall as
spectators when a cotillion was an-
nounced, and the floor was soon blocked
off in hollow squares, where the four
sets of partners faced one another and
impatiently awaited the beginning of the
fray.

In the set nearest our seats there was
a sprightly youth who, by his spirited
antics, soon attracted our undivided
attention. He was of medium height,
slender, wiry, with a head that seemed
a little too large for the body, but feet
that were as agile as a rope dancer's.
If he at first awakened our interest and
surprise, it was not long before he
startled and amazed us. He pirouetted
like a master of the opera ballet; he
leaped into the air and alighted upon
the tips of his toes; he skipped among
the dancers as airily as a puff of thistle
down, and, on occasions, gave a toss
of the toe that must inevitably have dis-
located the halo of his partner, had she
worn one, and, as it was, caused her to
duck instinctively and resolve herself
into a convenient and apologetic cour-
tesy. Our friend knew him and knew
something of his history, and told it to
us while the unconscious subject was
still capering nimbly.

Right here I cannot do better than
quote from Thomas Bailey Aldrich's
tribute to Ralph Keeler, written many

years ago, when Keeler was the hero of
a mystery that has never yet been
solved :

[ Keeler came of an excellent family, I
believe. In one of the early chapters of
his Vagabond Adventures, he hints as
much, in a half deprecatory way, as if it
were not becoming in a vagabond to
have too respectable antecedents. He
hints at it darkly, so to speak. Of his
early life, which was a singularly sad
one, this book appears to be a faithful
account. The story, as I have heard it
from his lips, does not differ in essentials
from the printed narrative. It can there
be seen that Keeler, who was born in
Ohio, lost both his parents in his infancy,
and, at his tenth or eleventh year, found
his surroundings so intolerable that he
ran away from the home provided for
him, and never returned to it. "I gave
up," he used to say, "what I have ever
since been struggling to gain." Not
that he regretted this particular home.
" It is due," he writes, "to both of us —
the home and myself — to observe that
it was »ot a very attractive hearth I ran
from. My father and mother were dead,
and no brothers or sisters of mine were
there ; nothing at all, indeed, like affec-
tion, but something very much like its
opposite." This is the only bitter pas-
sage in the book, throughout which the
light heartedness is pathetic. He es- *
caped from the house in Buffalo at
night, and secreted himself in a neigh-
boring stable until he obtained a place
as steward's assistant on board the
steamboat Diamond. Then began the
little vagabond's adventures, a squalid
life among wharves and steamboats and
railway stations.

First he is cabin boy on board the
Baltic ; then train boy on the Michigan
Southern and Northern Indiana rail-,
road, selling economically composed and
fatal lemonade; now he is the infant
phenomenon of Kunkel's band of negro
minstrels; now he is end man in Johnny
Booker's Ethiopian Troupe ; now he is
drifting down the Mississippi, with
sacred wax statuary and stuffed animals,

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

in Dr. Spaulding's floating palace ; now
we find him with that burnt cork washed
off — miraculous transformation ! study-
ing the classics in St. Vincent's College,
at Cape Girardeau, where he remains
sixteen happy months, and picks up
enough pure French to last him a life-
time. Now he is clerk in the Toledo
postoffice — something of a come down,
we should say, though still a man of
letters — and now he is steerage passen-
ger on an English steamer, heading for
Queenstown. From London he goes to
Paris; thence to Heidelberg. He is a
student in the famous Karl Rupert uni-
versity, and wins his diploma, too ( this
end man ) , making pedestrian tours
meanwhile, through Italy, the Tyrol,
Switzerland, France and Bavaria, wear-
ing the costume and speaking with the
accent of a veritable Handwerksbursch.]

The music and dancers having come
to a full stop, our friend went in search
of the object of our interest and curi-
osity, and very shortly presented him as
Ralph Keeler, professor of modern lan-
guages in a fashionable private school
on the once aristocratic but now decid-
edly democratic Rincon Hill.

Beside being a professor of modern
languages, Ralph Keeler was a weekly
contributor to the columns of the
"Golden Era" — at that time the clever-
est literary weekly on the Pacific coast.
His feuilleton was always readable,
and he wrote with much s'pirit and
freedom, signing his contributions "Al-
ioquiz." Occasionally a graceful bit of
verse appeared under his own name,
but he preferred to use a pen name
which was the merest ghost of a dis-
guise, it being pretty generally known
that Ralph Keeler and VAlloquiz" were
one and the same.

Our meeting that evening was a
happy one, and our friendship soon
warmed into an intimacy that we both
enjoyed. At this time Ralph was in
travail with a novel — his first and last —
and, as is apt to be the case, it seemed
to him and to me a matter of very
great pith and moment The coming
novelist believed —as, I suppose, all

coming novelists do — that he had
solved a problem that has puzzled and
confounded all the novelists that have
ever tried and failed. "The trouble
with the novel," said Ralph to me, one
day, "is that it is written for one per-
son only, or one kind of person; now,
it should appeal to all; not all of it to
all, which would of course be quite im-
possible, since no two of us are exactly
alike in taste or preference; — but one
person should like it for one thing in it
and another for another, and thus all
the world of readers will find something
somewhere within its pages that strikes
home to his heart and makes the book
forever precious to him."

I quite agreed with him without know-
ing exactly why. Ralph then pointed
out to me how the sale of such a book,
since it appealed to one and all, must
necessarily be fabulous; and I was very
glad for his sake that it must be so, and
for mine that unbounded success awaited
his honest and enthusiastic labors.

The book was called "Gloverson and
His Silent Partner." The scene was
laid in San Franciso; the time about
1860. There was a plot which we had
often discussed together; there was
humor for those who love to laugh;
and pathos for those who prefer to
weep. There was a song composed
and sung by Mr. Lang, the score of
which — really from the pen of J. R.
Thomas — is printed in the text of the
story, and a footnote announces that,
"This song is also published in sheet
music with an accompaniment for the
pianoforte." Toward the end of the
volume the song is heard issuing from
a subterranean music hall, and the voice
of the singer is recognized by passers
by; this naturally leads to the discovery
and rescue of one so necessary to the
development of the story and the happy
climax, which could not have resulted
had there been no second advent after
the hero's mysterious disappearance.

In another chapter of the book the

RALPH KEELER OF VAGABONDIA

/;4:VO

fir •.>%*>

Tl •','•••.•£•••?» - USSst''®** ~

aVma of St. Louis by "RalpTrj Heeler

K.K.Waud, special conrecpondent and artist of

* Every Saturday "

A PENCIL PORTRAIT OF RALPH KEELER (SEATED) FROM AN OLD NEWSPAPER PRINT

flighty, not to say flippant, Miss Sophia
Gass, writes a note to her fiance, who
has proposed to another without having
notified her of his intention, and she
writes gaily upon her own monogram
paper, — the monogram being repro-
duced upon the printed page, but not
the script — which was a trap to catch
a breach of promise. There was a
window in the house of the heroine

that was like a transformation scene,
and could assume various virtues, and
did, e'en though it had them not. The
window was Ralph's own invention, per-
haps patented, and that it might not
make him foolish in the eyes of the
carpenters and joiners union, he applied
to a distinguished architect of San Fran-
ciso, explaining his model and having
it pronouced practicable by the archi-

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

tect. Sometimes, lounging in the read-
ing room of the old Mercantile Library,
Ralph would drop in upon me, and, seiz-
ing me by the shoulders, would say:
"Come with me! I have another chapter
finished. You must hear it." Away we
would go to his lodgings in Minna street
and there he would read at me, care-
fully studying my facial expression the
while. I appreciated humor, and he
was well aware of the fact; if his humor
did not awaken in me an appreciative
response it had to be touched up until
it was irresistible. He knew me for a
sympathetic fellow, and so hoped to
touch me to tears at intervals; yet he
held women in higher estimation and
counted chiefly upon their emotional
natures for his success in pathos. Hav-
ing read his touching chapter to them,
if they wept not, that chapter was re-
written until it touched the high water
mark.

Now if logic is logic and there is any
thing in it worth while, should not this
novel have taken its place among the
mighty few that outlive a brief season
or two?

It fell from the hands of the publishers
with a dull thud that chilled the heart
of one of the jolliest bohemians that
ever lived.

In 1867, I went upon the stage in Sac-
ramento, California, making my first
appearance as Arthur Apsley in "The
Willow Copse," to the Luke Fielding
of the late W. C. Couldock. I did not
enter the profession because I longed to
be an actor, or because I believed I had
any dramatic talent; but had to do
something and to go somewhere in order
to do it, and as the stage was the only
avenue left open to me, I made my
debut in a modest role and was kindly
received before and behind the foot-
lights and made my escape as soon as
I could do so decently and in order.

Ralph Keeler had just made his first
appearance as a lecturer, and, looking
upon ourselves as, in a certain sense,

public characters, out of my misery I
wrote to congratulate and encourage
him in his new and promising career.
He replied:

MY DEAR CHARLEY:

Your letter was very, very kind ;
coming, as it did, before the general
public had pronounced in my favor, it
was fairly and squarely generous.

I believe you will reap your sure re-
ward in the success of the literary ven-
ture you, yourself, are about to make.
For, after all, there is an undercurrent
of compensation running through most
things mundane.

Affairs go on here very much as the
acting in front of a booth, luring people
to the best, or the worst, places beyond ;
and giving them a pretty fair idea of
what they will find on the outside.
Justice may grope blindly, in poor tinsel
and threadbare tights, on this side of
the booth, my boy, but it is justice, all
the same ; beginning the performance,
in this world, which it shall end in the
next, with the applause or condemnation
of the angels.

If you act and sing to the better audi-
ence in yourself, Charley, I believe you
will always wake echoes in the right
quarter. Better the encouragement of
the high minded few, than the plaudits
of the blatant many ; for God is on the
side of true art, and that will leave you
still in the majority. .

I did not mean to preach to you,
Charley, but to thank you for a letter
that came near making me cry.

The " literary venture" Ralph so
kindly refers to as my "being about
to make" was a windfall of verses,
gathered and edited by Bret Harte and
published by A. Roman, San Francisco,
1867, and now happily beyond the reach
of the collector.

Ralph Keeler cut loose from the Cali-
fornia that he always loved and went
to Boston to enter the literary arena.
On the back of one of his lecture cir-
culars he writes:

I have stricken it rather rich in the
lecturer biz. I don't think the book
will be out before next September.

His circular reads thus:

RALPH KEELER OF VAGABONDIA

TOLEDO, NOVEMBER 25, 1867.
To LECTURE COMMITTEES:

Ralph Keeler, of San Francisco, the
special correspondent of the Daily Alta
Californian has prepared and is ready to
deliver before the Lecture Associations
of the country, a lecture entitled,

VIEWS 'BAREFOOTED;
Or, The Tour of Europe for $181 in Greenbacks.
For terms and particulars address

John H. Doyle, Toledo, Ohio.
Or the Lecturer, care

Petroleum V. Nasby, Toledo, Ohio.

In March, 1868, he wrote:

I have delayed answering your glo-
rious letter till Nasby should have
finished his lecture tour and I should
have gone to Toledo. I have nothing
new to tell you. Since my lecture tour
closed, I have been quietly domesti-
cated here in the woods, rewriting that
everlasting novel. I have three offers
for t from publishers, but do not feel
very much encouraged withal.

The next publishing season is Sept-
ember and that will be in the height of
the election excitement. Blast the presi-
dent, say I ; I may have to wait on his
account— whoever he may be — till next
January. I have worked too hard on
the thing to feel like giving it the dis-
advantage of a' dull market.

Tell me more little gossip about the
Occident. Everything is interesting
that comes from California. I have
almost made up my mind to go to
Boston in a week or so to meet and hear
Dickens. Mr. Fields, I believe, will do
me the favor to introduce me, and I shall
at last have the honor of clasping the
hand that forged the iron hook of "Cap-
tain Cuttle, Mariner."

You wouldn't tell me, I suppose, but
I would like to know how big an ass I
have made of myself in my <Alta letters
and just exactly what the Pacific literati
think of them. I have your little book
of poems on my table here and I open
it many times, finding something new
and always beautiful in them at each
new reading. At a farm house in this
county not long since I picked up an
old New York Independent and saw for
the first time that glorious notice of your
book in it: you have of course seen the
notice. Wasn't it generous and whole
souled ? I couldn't have felt better if it
had all been written about myself.
Give my love to Harte. Lovingly,

RALPH.

BOSTON, MAY 1868:
I send you a copy of Glover son;
[ his novel just out ] — Now, Charley,
I want you to send me the copy of the
Overland (Monthly that has a notice of
Glaoerson, if that periodical does use
anything of the kind.

Write to me. I preached last night in
these precincts. The people were easy
to please.
Love in haste. Ever yours, RALPH.

CUSTER, WOOD Co., OHIO,
June, 1869.

MY DEAR BOY:

I have just been reading your
Utopia in the Overland and am so delight-
ed with it and your manifest growth in
practical ways and things that I forgot
you never acknowledged the receipt of
the book I sent you — [Gloverson — my
speedy acknowledgement went astray]
and hasten to congratulate you with all
my soul.

I am sure that I have grown out of
the book and all conceit in it; but I
hate to have you and all my California
slide out from under me : you see I can't
walk on thin air. Let me hear from
you for the memory of old times.

That letter was written on the back
of one of his circulars, announcing his
lecture entitled, "Views Barefooted"
and also an "entirely new lecture" en-
titled "Broken China." This post-
script is written on the face of the cir-
cular:

God bless Bret Harte for his stories
of mountain life. There is nothing in
the range of art to be compared with
them, except, maybe, Jefferson's acting
in T^ip Van Winkle. I have just been
reading {Miggles to a room-full and we
have all been crying like babies.

PORTLAND, WHITESIDE Co., ILL.

Aug. 8, 1869.

Your letter reached me here, bringing
with it all the cheer of a remembered
S. F. day. Everything, indeed, that
comes from that favored coast of yours,
and of ours, has an electrical shock in it.
The earth must move slower to the acre,
everywhere out here east of the Rocky
Mts. He is happier who lives a beggar
in S. F., than the cold blooded, purple
and fine linen rascals of these even tern-

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

pered regions. Don't think of leaving
that millenial spot, Charley ; you will re-
gret it if you do.

If you are serious about coming East
to lecture, I am sorry, by the "naked
\ruth," to offer you no encouragement.
Lecturing is about "played out," except
in the case of the moss-heads with a
quarter of a century's reputation to
back them. My slight success was only
sensational and was not great enough to
warrant you in risking anything in the
same way. Frankly, if I had to com-
mence from the beginning at this ad-
vanced stage of my years, and modesty,
I would not have the courage. You
never had, and I shall never again have
the brass and impudence to go through
what I did to challenge public attention.

Stay where you are, if you can,
Charley, and grow up with the country,
for the highest civilization on the conti-
nent, in my humble opinion, will be
reached on the Pacific Coast.

I have no idea what my prospects are
for the coming lecture season, but it is
my intention to come to you in the
Spring or early Summer, after I have
published a little book that I am thinking
of but have not yet touched. Certain
literary people whom I have never seen
— one of them, by the way, your aged
brother poet John Neal of Portland,
Maine, — have written to me advising me
to write my life in the same off hand
way as I wrote my Minstrel article, and
I may do it after I have published
Views 'Barefooted in the Atlantic. I
think of calling it (Memories of a Vaga-
bond, or something of that ilk, and have
it end at the age of 22, which was my
age when I returned from Europe.

Oct. 3d, 1869.

I don't know when I shall have time
to get at my Memories of a Vagabond. I
got another letter yesterday from old
John Neal of Portland, Maine, from
which I quote this comforting sentence
apropos of the subject in question:
" P. T. Barnum, Geo. Francis Train, the
Count Johannes, and ever so many more
threaten us with their autobiographies."
Have you read John Neal's Recollections?
I shall have to read them before meeting
their author, if I lecture at Portland this
Winter. I have never seen the venera-
ble John. Do you remember how
Lowell gives it to him in his Fable for
Critics ?

My lecture prospects are favorable

enough, but I think this is the last Win-
ter I shall be in that line. I am going
into legitimate literature — to starve,
perhaps, but there must be a certain
consolation in starving for high art.
In the Spring I propose to point for one
of two places with a view to settling ;
either in Ithica, N. Y., where there are
lakes and a library and a pretty country ;
or S. F., where a man's head is always
clearest and his body always soundest.
When I came back here I found that
some inconsiderate power that, bes had
sent me an appointment to a desk in one
of the departments of Washington. It
purported to come from the secretary of
the treasury and was sent to me by
young Stanton. I was, of course, very
grateful but respectfully declined. You
see how earnest I am in my resolve to
starve for the Muses' sake.

CARLO Mio:

Your delightful letter came to me
while I was in the thick of my late
lecture skirmishes. I have carried it in
my pocket just four thousand, five hun-
dred miles. I have made considerably
more miles than money, my boy. When
you are aware that I have been forced
to go nearly a week at a time without
finding a chance to get shaved, you may
know that I have had little nerve for any
kind of writing — and I have done none
at all.

In the course of my travels from the
upper Mississippi to Boston and New
York, you should have seen me in the
palace cars, unshaved and unshorn, foul
of face and linen, but with my boots
scrupulously polished every morning by
the porter. Whenever it was necessary
to put up an appearance of respectabil-
ity, I had to hide my head and elevate
my feet. The foregoing is somewhat
personal, but goes, I fancy, to establish
the sincerity of my apology for not writ-
ing as soon as I hungered to do.

CARLO Mio:

Feb. 27, 1870.

Since your last good letter was
written I have been many miles with '
dire Winter, way up in Minnesota on a
lecture skirmish ; hence the interim in
the present correspondence. Had two
railroad accidents inside of six hours
and oh ! such lots of that kind of fun ;
but I like the Minnesotans for all that:
they are more like Californians than

RALPH KEELER OF VAGABONDIA

any people among whom I have
journeyed yet.

I think you will have no little satisfac-
tion in remembering that you were polite
and kind enough to speak well of my
bad Second Vision of Judgement when
you know that it is my permanent adio
to verse making. Howells writes me
that I made sad work with three syllable
.rhymes: How could I help it when I know
nothing about prosody? Howells also
tells me in a little note, just come to
hand, that my European experiences —
considerably rewritten by yours truly
and transmitted to the Atlantic a week
or so ago — will be published, he thinks,
in the July number of that magazine.
This will form the third or concluding
portion of my prospective {Memoirs of a
Vagabond, which I hope to have done
and published some time during the
present year. This, I think, is all the
shop news I have to tell you about my-
self.

After Ralph Keeler's debut in San
Francisco, Bret Harte, in the Evening
Bulletin, thus wrote of his "Views Bare-
footed."

The lecture was instructive, entertain-
ing and graceful, without flippancy,
slang or coarseness. Those who ex-
pected, from its somewhat sensational
title, any corresponding effect in style
or subject matter, were disappointed.
While relating his adventures with a
good deal of quiet humor, the lecturer
never lost his self respect or dignity, nor*
for a momentary applause sacrificed his
sense of literary propriety. He told in
good English, with frequent epigram-
matic terms and playful illustrations,
the story of his wanderings, his student
life in Germany, and those ingenious
shifts of a "barefooted " traveler, which
were the theme and motif of his lecture.
The pleasant ripple of his narrative only
changed when the quieter depths of
pathos or sentiment demanded it.

Surely the passage above quoted — it
appeared on every circular that was
issued so long as Ralph was in the
lecture circuit — should interest the
lovers of Bret Harte. .

It is in its way a curiosity and sounds
to me just a little bit as if the young
writer had been conscientiously giving

his days and nights to the study of
Addison — as recommended by the pon-
derous Doctor Johnson, who might have
easily crushed Addison with a single
adjective. How happy could Bret have
been with either were t'other dear
charmer away; and how much more
profitable he was when he soared above
them both.

Keeler seemed to step down from the
lecture platform quite naturally, and no
doubt did so with a sense of relief. He
probably never liked the wear and tear
of that strenuous round, with its thin
houses and foul weather to be encoun-
tered at frequent intervals. He tried
his best to spare me a disappointment
in that line of disappointments and
nobly succeeded.

Keeler went abroad for- a season, and
while in London had a comedietta pro-
duced at one of the local theaters. Pren-
tice Mulford, who saw much of him at
the time, told me that Ralph's chief
concern was not whether the play was
to be "booed" by the play going booers,
but what clothes he should wear when
called before the curtain by the raptur-
ously applauding house. He tried on
various suits, Mulford to pass judgment
upon them as to their cut and fit, and
if they harmonized with his complexion.
And then the hat — what kind of hat
to carry in his hand and just how to
carry it — this was a perplexing ques-
tion. Should he, as it were, snatch it
hastily from his head, as if he was urged
before the curtain by sympathetic players
who were so proud of his success, and
then bow his thanks while he crushed
the hat in modest confusion? Or should
he stalk down to the footlights with calm
indifference, with no thought of- hat or
apparel or anything else in particular —
as if this were, after all, an old story
and hardly worth the bother?

Ralph and Prentice rehearsed the
scene again and again with ever in-
creasing delight — but alas! there was
no curtain call.

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

This did not worry him in the least.
His good nature was inexhaustible. He
took life as he found it and made the
best of it. I am inclined to think he
got more out of it than most people do.
I remember going to his chamber in
San Francisco on a certain occasion and
finding him bubbling with mirth over
his own little joke. On the wall of the
room, which was a large and bare one,
he had tacked a green bough brought
home from some suburban pilgrimage.
I asked what it meant. With exuberant
laughter he assured me "that was
a Frenchman's idea of the country!"

Upon his return to the States Keeler
was employed by the publishers of the
Atlantic Monthly. There was a rise for
a young man alone in the world, from
juvenile clog dancing in a stroll ing negro
minstrel troupe to the assistant editorial
chair in the first literary organ in the
land. He called himself "Cub-Editor,"
when for a little while he was left in
charge of the magazine, and it was then
I wrote to him concerning an article
of mine which had been accepted and
paid for, but had not yet made its ap-
pearance in print. I began to feel that
it was not profitable to receive pay for
articles that were apparently never to
see the light. Better no pay at all than
to be thus cast into oblivion without the
glance of one friendly eye.

Keeler wrote me:

I have been under the weather and
the bed clothes pretty constantly since
your last arrived — which is my excuse
for delay and present brevity. I write
now to tell you for Mr. Howells that he
will publish your article as soon as he
can ; that Mr. Fields left lots of stuff in
his hands—some that has been five years
in an unpublished state ; but yours will
appear as soon as possible.

I suppose it did — but the interesting
fact remains that one of the "South Sea
Idyls," — "A Tropical Sequence," — in-
cluded in the Scribners' edition of
the "Idyls," remained seven years
in the office of the Atlantic Monthly

before it found its way into print.

Ralph wrote me concerning a little
sketch of mine called "My Long Lost
Brother," in which I had ventured to
suggest a change in the stage business
of the closing scenes of "Hamlet," hop-
ing, if possible, to relieve the stage at
the final curtain fall of some of its dead.

He says :

That Hamlet finale of yours is a good
idea : did you think it all out by your-
self? It is much better than some of
Fechter's amendments-- which, by the
way, I was surprised to see at their foun-
tain head the other day in Goethe's
Wilbelm CMeister. I have sold myself
body and soul to the Atlantic and Every
Saturday. I get the same wages whether
I write little or much, but I can't write for
anything else. In this chartering, how-
ever, I have a vivid idea that I am not
the party that is " sold." I never made
so much money before in my life and it
will be some time, at least, before I shall
be worth what I get.

He made a long tour with A. R.
Waud, the artist, and together they did
articles now incorporated in Appleton's
"Picturesque America." Finally he
started for the West Indies as a special
correspondent to report one of the revo-
lutions that seem indigenous to the
climate and the soil, and the next that
was heard of him is embodied in the
following paragraph that went the rounds
of the press like lightning:

Supposed Death of Ralph Keeler

HAVANA, Dec. 26, 1874. ---Ralph
Keeler, a special correspondent of the
New York Tribune, mysteriously dis-
appeared from the steamer Cienfuegos
on the passage from Santiago de Cuba
to Manzanillo, and nothing has since
been heard of him. His baggage was
on board the steamer on her arrival at
Manzanillo and was delivered by the
captain to the United States consul
there. Consul General Hall and the
Havana agent of the Associated Press
have inquired by the telegraph and mail
in all directions for the missing man, but
without result. It was at first supposed
that Ralph Keeller had been accidentally
left at Santiago, but another steamer
arrived today from that port without

RALPH KEEL'ER OF VAGABONDIA

bringing any tidings as to his where-
abouts. It is now feared that he fell
overboard from the Cienfuegos.

For a very long time I hoped against
hope that Ralph would some day reap-
pear with a book of wondrous adventure,
telling all that had happened since his
startling disappearance. But the years

pass by and there is neither sign
nor signal concerning the fate of
him who had so endeared himself
to his friends that they must ever
mourn his absence, and now, alas!
if we would resurrect his precious
bones I fear we must look for
them in the port of missing ships.

'THE THOUGHTS OF YOUTH ARE LONG,
LONG THOUGHTS"

FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY LEIGH GROSS DAY. SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS

LITTLE GREEN GOBLIN OF GOBLINVILLE

Author of "Ralph Marlowe", "The Witch-Crow and Barney Bylow'

MALTA. OHIO

etc-

DOB drew a deep breath and dropped
" down beside his companion. For
several minutes they sat silent, each star-
ing stonily into the other's white face.
At last the boy murmured huskily:

"Fitz, are the feathers es — escaping
very fast?"

The goblin shook his head.

"Not very fast," he said slowly, moist-
ening his dry lips by rubbing them to-
gether, "just one at a time. "
i "Is the rip in the bag a very big
one?"

"No."

Bob brightened.

"Couldn't we climb up some way, and
fix it?" he inquired.

The goblin gave a negative shake of
the head.

"No," he replied, "it's 'way up near
the top of the bag."

"Well, what're we going to do, Fitz?"

"There's nothing we can do, Bob.
The feathers are escaping — one now and
then; and, little by little, the balloon
will lose its buoyancy and sink into the
sea. We're lost!"

"Look here, Fitz!" Bob cried sharply.
"Surely you're not going to give up that
way. I didn't think it of you. There
must be something we can do to save
ourselves."

The goblin dropped his chin upon his
breast and, rolling his head, mutterpd:
"Nothing!"

"But," the lad persisted, "we must
do something. There's a little air still
left in the tank, and when we sink too
low we can let that out, and rise again.
If we sail as fast as we can, can't we
cross the ocean before we drop into it?"

Fitz Mee leaped to his feet like one
electrified.

"Thank you, Bob — thank you!" he
cried, grasping his companion's hand.
"You've given me hope. ' We'll try your
project; and if we lose, we'll have the
satisfaction of knowing we died trying!"
And he set his jaws with a resolute
snap.

"I can't see where there'll be much
satisfaction in that for us — after we're
dead," the lad muttered under his
breath.

The goblin hurried to the selector,
and gradually turned the thumbscrew
until the machine was wide open— the
current was all on. The balloon in-
stantly responded, and began to fly
through the air at a speed little short of
miraculous; its two occupants had to
throw themselves prostrate and cling to
the locker for safety. The still Summer
air appeared to be blowing a hurricane;
the placid, heaving ocean appeared to
be racing toward the west, a foaming,
tossing torrent. One by one, a few each
minute, the feathers escaped through
the rent in the striped bag; and foot by
foot, very slowly but very surely, the
aerial vehicle yielded to the overmaster-
ing power of gravitation*

On, on and on they sped, reeling off
miles as a watch ticks off seconds.
Neither the boy nor the goblin found
anything to say. Both fully realized
that they were running a race with
death, and the knowledge awed them
to silence.

The noon hour came, and still they
were flying like mad due east.

Fitz cautiously lifted his head, put the
binocular to his eyes, and looked away
toward the south.

"There's the Azores," he said, shout-
ing in order to make himself heard, his
tone expressing relief and satisfaction.

LITTLE GREEN GOBLIN OF GOBLINVILLE

"The Azores?" Bob bellowed in reply.

"Yes— the islands."

"Oh!"

"Yes; we're making good time."

"Well, hadn't we better stop there?"

"No."

"We're only a few hundred feet above
the water."

The goblin shook his big head in a
decided negative.

"Why not?" the boy insisted.

"I'm afraid to stop there."

"Afraid?"

"Yes; I'm afraid there's, no geese on
those islands."

"Geese?"

"Sure! We've got to have goose
feathers to refill our balloon bag."

"Oh, I see! W7ell, what' re you going
to try to do, Fitz?"

"Going to try to make the coast of
Portugal. We'll find geese there."

"You're sure?"

"Yes; Portuguese."

And Fitz Mee laughed at his own
pun until his fat face became purple and
his breath came and went in wheezing
gasps.

"Oh, shut up!" Bob cried angrily.
"This is no time to be laughing."

"Laughing will do just as much good
as crying, Bob," Fitz made answer — but
instantly sobering. "I believe we'll
come out all right. There are geese in
Portugal; and I think we'll be able to
make the coast of that country. We're
making good time; and we've not had
to exhaust the air tank yet. We'll drive
ahead and hope for the best."

One hour, two hours, three hours
passed. The balloon descended so low
the car threatened to dip into the waves.
The goblin released the remaining air
in the tank, and again they soared aloft,
but only a few hundred feet. Another
hour and again they were dangerously
near to the water.

Bob cried: "Why, Fitz, the sun's
'most down! This has been an awful
short afternoon."

"Yes," the goblin nodded, "and the
forenoon was short, too. You must re-
member we're moving east very- rapidly
— running away from the sun, running
to meet the night. It'll be dark soon.
I wish we'd sight the coast; it seems
to me it's about time we were doing so."

"What is that wavy blue line away
ahead of us?" Bob inquired.

"I don't see anything," Fitz answered.

"I do," the boy insisted positively.

"Give me the glass."

"It must be land then," the goblin
suggested.

"It is land!" Bob cried joyfully.
"We're going to be all right, Fitz."

"I — I hope so," Fitz made answer;
"I hope we'll make it."

Warned by his companion's tone and
manner that danger was imminent, the
lad jerked the binocular from his eyes
and dropped his gaze to the ocean. One
glance was sufficient; the car was threat-
ening to dip into the water at any mo-
ment.

"Oh, Fitz!" the boy wailed. "What're
we to do?"

"I don't know!" Fitz whimpered,
wringing his hands and wriggling about
upon the locker. "We can't do any-
thing— oh', we can't do anything! We're
lost— lost!"

"Look here, Fitz Mee — you old Con-
vulsions!" Bob cried angrily. "You got
me into this thing; now you've got to
help get me out. Wake up! You're
playing the baby. And you called me
a coward! You're the coward! Wake
up!" roughly shaking him. "We've got
to throw something overboard, and I'll
throw you in about a minute."

Just then the car hit the water a glanc-
ing spat that threw a blinding cloud of
brine over the two aeronauts. The bal-
loon rebounded from the impact and
continued its mad speed.

"Wheel" screamed Fitz Mee. "You're
right, Bob. We must lighten the balloon
some way; one more lick like that will
tear the car loose from the bag. Raise

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

the lids of the locker, and throw out
everything but the food supply."

Frantically they began to lighten ship,
flinging into the sea odds and ends of
various kinds -the accumulation of many
voyages. It availed them little, how-
ever; the balloon ascended but a few
feet, and skimmed dangerously near to
the water, into which it threatened to
take a final plunge at any moment.

Now the coast line was plainly visible
to the naked eye; and now it was but
a few miles away, the hills and rocks
standing out distinctly. Yet how far off
it seemed to the despairing aeronauts!
Neither spoke; each held his breath and
his tongue, expecting to have to make
a final struggle and swim for life.

Lower and lower sank the balloon.
Once more the car spatted the water;
and this tifne it did not rebound, but
went tearing along at railroad speed,
deluging and almost drowning its occu-
pants. For a few minutes the two lost all
sense of their surroundings — nearly lost
consciousness. Then the car struck the
shelving, sandy shore with a smart bump,
and the balloon came to a full stop.
The wild and dangerous ride was over!

"Saved!" sputtered Fitz Mee, jump-
ing from the car and dancing up and
down.

"Saved! " coughed Bob, indulging in
similar antics.

Then they tearfully embraced, whirl-
ing round and round, their saturated gar-
ments dripping a circle of wet upon the
yellow sands.

The sun was gone from sight; the
shades of night were stealing in upon
them.

"We can't do anything tonight toward
resuming our voyage," the goblin re-
marked; "it's almost dark now. Then
you're wet and weak and I'm famished
and faint. We'll spend the hours of
darkness here upon the warm sands, and
in the morning we'll look around us."

"All right," the boy agreed; "I guess
that's the best we can do."

By dint of a deal of tugging and grunt-
ing, they drew the balloon up out of
reach of wave and tide. Then they
wrung their garments, swallowed a num-
ber of food tablets and drink pellets and
lay down to sleep under the shelter of
an overhanging cliff.

The sun was an hour high when they
awoke. Simultaneously they opened
their eyes and sprang to their feet.
Sleep had much refreshed them; the
warm air and sand had dried their gar-
ments. After partaking of a hearty but
hasty breakfast, they began to look
around them.

At their feet lay their balloon, a sorry
looking wreck. But close examination
made plain the fact that it could be
easily repaired and put in shape. A
short distance to the north a river put
into the sea. They sauntered to the
mouth of it, and took in the view of the
broad, fertile valley. A mile or two up
the stream lay a small village.

"I'll tell you what we've got to
do, Bob," Fitz remarked reflectively,
scratching his head.

"Well, what?" inquired the boy.

"We've got to go to that town."

"What for?"

"For cord and goose feathers. We
need the cord to splice the broken ropes
of our car, and we need the feathers to
refill our bag."

"Yes," the lad mumbled, "we need
those articles all right, Fitz; but maybe
the people of the village don't have such
things."

"Of course they do," the goblin
sneered superiorly.

"How do you know?" the boy said
tauntingly.

"Well, I know."

"No, you don't; you just guess."

"A goblin never guesses at anything."

"I guess he does; you guessed we'd
get drowned — but we didn't."

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"I won't!"

LITTLE GREEN GOBLIN OF GOBLINVILLE

"Neither will I!"

Then they stood and silently glared
at each other for a full half minute.
Finally both began to look foolish and
burst out laughing.

"Fitz, you're too hot headed, "you
old Epilepsy," Bob giggled.

"I know it," tittered the goblin; "but
so are you, Roberty-Boberty."

"I know it," the boy admitted; "but
I can't stay mad at you, Fitz."

"I can't stay mad at you, cithers Bob.
Now let's stop our foolishness and
mosey up to that village, and see about
the cord and feathers we need."

"All right. But how are we to get
the things, Fitz? . Have you any money?"

"I've got gold; that's just as good."

"Gold?"

"Yes. Look here."

The goblin took a bag of yellow nug-
gets from his pocket and emptied them
out and shook them before the boy's
eyes.

"Is that gold?" Bob inquired, inter-
ested and not a little excited.

"Sure," Fitz Mee answered.

"Where did you get it?"

"In Goblinland."

"My! Is there much of it there?"

" Bushels of it. These nuggets are as
common there as pebbles are in your
country."

"Gee!" the lad exclaimed, in wide-
eyed wonder and admiration. "You
goblins must be mighty rich."

"We don't put any value upon gold,"
was the complacent reply; "we never
use it at home."

Bob was thoughtfully silent for some
seconds.

"What're you thinking about?" his
companion inquired, with a shrewd and
cunning smile.

"Thinking how rich I can be when
I go back home," was the frank admis-
sion. Then abruptly: "What's that
coming down the road yonder, Fitz?"

"Hello!" the goblin ejaculated de-
lightedly. "We won't have to tramp to

the village. That's a gooseherd. See;
he has the geese tethered together with
twine and is guiding them with a crook.
We'll wait here and buy them of him."

The gooseherd and his flock drew
near. He was a tall, angular young
man, ragged and barefoot. His merry
whistle rose above the strident quacks
of his charges, and his flat feet softly
spatted the dust of the highway in time
to his own music.

Fitz Mee stepped forward, politely
lifted his cap and said in greeting:

"Good morning, Sir Gooseherd."

The young man stopped in his tracks
and dropped his crook and his jaw at
the same time. Plainly he was startled
at the sudden appearance of the little
green sprite and his companion, and
just as plainly he was greatly fright-
ened.

"We desire to purchase your geese,"
the goblin ventured, boldly advancing,
"How much gold will buy them?"

The gooseherd let out a shrill yell of
terror and turned and fled up the
road as fast as his long legs could carry
him. The geese attempted to flee also,
but, being tethered together, became
hopelessly and helplessly entangled and
fell to the ground, a flapping, quacking
mass.

Bob and Fitz hawhawed heartily.

"Hurrah!" the goblin whooped. "The
geese and cord are ours, anyhow."

"But we didn't pay the fellow," Bob
objected.

"I'll fix that," his comrade assured
him. " When we've plucked the
feathers off the geese, I'll tie the bag
of nuggets round the neck of one, and
then we'll turn 'em loose. The young
fellow' 11 find 'em and get the gold.
And now we must hurry up and get
through with our job and be off from
this coast; the gooseherd may come back
and bring his friends with him."

The two diminutive aeronauts labori-
ously disentangled the geese and drove
them to the immediate vicinity of the

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

wrecked balloon. There they plucked
the feathers of the quacking, quaking
fowls, and refilled the balloon bag and
closed the rent. Then they turned the
stripped and complaining birds loose,
one meekly bearing the bag of gold;
and finally they spliced the broken ropes
of the car and were ready to resume
their voyage.

"Jump in and pump up the tank a
little, Bob," Fitz cried joyfully. "I'll
be ready to weigh anchor when you say
the word."

But at that moment came the patter of
many feet upon the dry sand, followed
by a shower of clubs and stones that
rattled about the car and the heads of
its occupants, and instantly the balloon
was surrounded by a crowd of gaping,
leering villagers!
"Captured!" groaned Fitz Mee.
"Captured!" echoed Bob.
The villagers began to close in upon
them, brandishing rude weapons and
uttering hoarse cries of rage.

In sheer desperation the goblin
squirmed and grimaced, and ended his
ridiculous performance by uttering a
blood curdling "Boo!"

The startled villagers fell back in in-
decision and alarm, tumbling over one
another in frantic efforts to get out of
reach of the little green sprite. Taking
instant advantage of the respite, Bob
whipped out his knife and cut the anchor
rope and aloft the balloon sailed, fol-
lowed by the screams and yells of the
surprised and disappointed peasants.
"Saved!" murmured the boy.
"Saved!" whispered the goblin.
And they fell into each other's arms
and wept for joy !

A LL that day and all that night tne
two daring adventurers traveled
steadily and directly eastward, and
at dawn of the next day they were
floating high over western China.
The air was thin and penetrating

and both were shivering with cold.

Fitz Mee, standing upon the locker
and watching the sunrise through the
binocular, observed:

"We're almost to our journey's end,
Bob."

"Almost to Goblinland?" the boy
queried. .

"Yes; I can see it."

"Where — where?" Bob cried eagerly,
mounting to his comrade's side.

"See that mountain top a little to
the left yonder?"

"Yes.'"

"Well, that's Goblinland."

"Golly!" Bob muttered. "It must be
a pretty cold place to live," and his
teeth chattered sympathetically at the
thought.

"No, it isn't," the goblin assured him.

"You see Goblinland is really the
crater of a volcano."

"The crater of a volcano?" said Bob
in mild consternation.

"Yes," Fitz laughed. "But you
needn't be alarmed, Bob; it's an ex-
tinct volcano. Still the crust over it is
so thin that- the ground is always warm
and the climate mild. Now we're get-
ting right over the place. Release the
selector and pump up the air tank, and
we'll soon cast anchor in port."

As they slowly descended Bob swept
his eyes here and there, greedily taking
in the scene. Goblinland was indeed
the crater of an immense ancient vol-
cano. The great pit was several miles
in diameter and several hundred feet
deep, walled in by perpendicular cliffs
of shiny, black, volcanic rock. Through
the middle of this natural amphitheater
ran a clear mountain brook; and on
either side of the stream, near the cen-
ter of the plain, were the rows of tiny
stone houses constituting Goblinville.
Shining white roadways wound here
and there, graceful little bridges spanned
the brook, and groves of green trees and
beds of blooming flowers were every-
where.

LITTLE GREEN GOBLIN OF GOBLINVILLE

"How beautiful!" Bob exclaimed in-
voluntarily.

"Yes," the goblin nodded, his eyes
upon the village below, "to me at least;
it's my home."

"I know now why you goblins always
travel in balloons," the lad remarked;
"you can't get out of your country in
any other way."

Again Fitz Mee nodded absent mind-
edly. Then he said: "My people are
out to welcome us, Bob. Look down
there in the public square."

The boy did as directed.

"What a lot of 'em, Fitz!" he tittered
gleefully. "And what bright colored
clothes they wear — red and green and
blue — and all colors. But how did they
know we were coming?"

"We goblins know everything that's
going on, I told you," was the quiet
reply. Then, after a momentary pause:
"The mayor will be present to greet us,
Bob. He'll make a speech, and you
must be very respectful and polite. See
them waving at us, and hear them cheer-
ing!"

A few minutes later the balloon had
touched the earth and eager hands had
grasped the anchor rope.

"Hello! Hello, Fitz Mee! Welcome
home, Fitz Mee!" were the hearty greet-
ings that arose on all sides.

Fitz Mee stepped to the ground, bow-
ing and smiling, and Bob silently fol-
lowed his example. The balloon was
dragged away and the populace closed
in upon the new arrivals, elbowing and
jostling one another and chuckling and
cackling immoderately.

"Shake!" they cried. "Give us a wag
of your paw, Fitz Mee! Shake, Bob
Taylor!"

There were goblins great and goblins
small, goblins short and goblins tall;
goblins fat and goblins lean, goblins red
and goblins green; goblins young and
goblins old, goblins timid, goblins bold;
goblins dark and goblins fair — goblins,
goblins everywhere!

Bob was much amused at their cries
and antics and just a little frightened at
their exuberant friendliness. Fitz Mee
shook hands with all comers, and
chuckled and cackled goodnaturedly.

"Out of the way!" blustered a hoarse
voice. "Out of the way for his honor,
the mayor!"

A squad of rotund and husky goblins,
in blue police uniforms and armed with
maces, came forcing their way through
the packed crowd. Immediately behind
them was the mayor, a pursy, wrinkled
old fellow wearing a long robe of purple
velvet.

The officers cleared a space for him,
and he advanced and said pompously:

"Welcome, Fitz Mee, known the
world over as the Little Green Goblin of
Goblinville. I proclaim you the bravest
and speediest messenger and minister
Goblinland has ever known. Again,
welcome home; and welcome to your
friend and comrade, Master Robert Tay-
lor of Yankeeland. I trust that he will
find his stay among us pleasant, and that
he will in no way cause us to regret that
we have made the experiment of admit-
ting a human being — and a boy at that!
— to the sacred precincts of Goblinville.
The freedom of the country and the
keys of the city shall be his. Once more,
a sincere and cordial welcome!"

Then to the officers:

"Disperse the populace, and two of
you escort the Honorable Fitz Mee and
his companion to their dwelling place,
that they may seek the rest they so
greatly need after so arduous a
journey."

The officers promptly and energetic-
ally carried out the orders of their chief.

When Fitz and Bob were alone in the
former's house, the latter remarked:

"Fitz, I believe I'll like to live in
Goblinville."

"I — I hope you will, Bob," was the
rather disappointing reply.

"Hope I will? Don't you think I
will, Fitz?"

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

"I don't know; boys are curious ani-
mals."

"Well, I think I will. You know you
said I could do as I pleased here."

"Yes."

"Say, Fitz?"

"Well?"

"How does it come that you goblins
speak my language?"

"We speak any language — all lan-
guages."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Why, how do you learn so many?"

"We don't have to learn 'em; we just
know 'em naturally — as we know every-
thing else that we know at all."

"My, that's great! You don't have
to go to school, nor study, nor anything,
do you?"

"No."

"Gee! I wish I was a goblin."

"But you're not," laughed Fitz Mee;
"and you never will be."

"But I'll be a man some day, and that
will be better."

"You'll never be a man if you stay
in Goblinland."

"I won't?"

"No."

"Won't I ever grow any?"

"No; you're as big as a full grown
goblin now."

"Well, I'll get older and then I'll be
a man, or a goblin, or something, won't
I?"

"You'll still be a boy."

"Shoot"! Bob pouted. I don't like
that. You told me I could be what I
pleased in Goblinland."

"No, I didn't," Fitz Mee returned
quietly but firmly. "I told you that in
our country boys — meaning goblin boys,
of course, — were compelled to do what
pleased them and were not permitted
to do what pleases others. You, as a
human boy, will be subject to the same
law or custom."

"And I can do anything that pleases
me?"

"You can't do anything else."

"Bully!" Bob shouted gleefully. "I
guess I'll like Goblinland all right; and
I don't care if I do stay a boy. Am I
the first human boy that ever got into
your country, Fitz?"

"You're the first human being of any
kind that ever set foot in Goblinland."

"Is that so! Well, I'll try not to
make you* people sorry you brought me
here, Fitz."

"That's all right, Bob," his compan-
ion made reply, a little dejectedly, the
boy thought. "And what would you
like to do first, now that you are in a
land absolutely new to you?"

"Fitz, I'd like to take a good long
sleep."

"That would please you?"

"Yes, indeed."

"More than anything else, for the
present?"

"Yes."

"All right. Off to bed you go. You'll
find a couch in the next room. Go in
there and tumble down."

"I will pretty soon."

"But you must go now."

"Why?"

"Because it's the law in Goblinland
that a boy shall do what he pleases —
and at once."

"Well, I won't go to bed till I get
ready, Fitz."

"You don't mean to defy the law, do
you, Bob?"

"Doggone such an old law!" the lad
muttered peevishly.

Fitz Mee giggled and held his sides
and rocked to and fro.

"What's the matter of you, anyhow?"
Bob cried crossly.

His comrade continued to laugh, his
knees drawn up to his chin, his fat face
convulsed.

"Old Giggle-box!" the boy stormed.
"You think you're smart — making fun
of me!"

Fitz Mee grew grave at once.

"Bob," he said soberly, "you'll get

LITTLE GREEN GOBLIN OF GOBLINVILLE

into trouble, and you'll get me in
trouble."

"I don't care."

"Go to bed at once, that's a good
boy."

"I won't do it!"

Just then the outer door opened and
a uniformed officer stepped into the
room.

"His honor, the mayor begs me to
say," he gravely announced, "that as
Master Robert Taylor has said that he
would be pleased to go to sleep, he must
go to sleep, and at once. His honor
trusts that Master Taylor will respect
and obey the law of the land, without
further warning."

And the officer bowed and turned and
left the house.

"Well, I declare!" Bob gasped, com-
pletely taken aback. "What kind of
a country is this, anyhow!"

Fitz Mee tumbled to the floor, and
rolled and roared.

The ludicrousness of the situation
appealed to the fun loving Bob, and he
joined in his companion's merriment.
Together they wallowed and kicked upon
the floor, prodding each other in the
ribs and indulging in other rude antics
indicative of their exuberant glee.

When they had their laugh out Bob
remarked: "Well, I'll go to bed, Fitz —
just to obey the law; but I don't sup-
pose I can snooze a bit."

Contrary to his expectations, however,
the lad, really wearier than he realized,
soon fell asleep. He slept through the
day and far into the hours of darkness,
and it was almost dawn of the next day
when he awoke.

He quietly arose and began to inspect
his surroundings. A soft, white radi-
ance flooded the room. He drew aside
a window blind and peeped out. Dark-
ness reigned, but bright lights twinkled
here and there. He dropped the blind
and again turned his attention to things
within.

"I wonder if Fitz is awake," he mum-

bled; "I'm hungry. "I suppose he
slept on the couch in the next room.
And I wonder where all this brightness
comes from; I don't see a lamp of any-
kind. O! it comes from that funny little
black thing on the stand there. I won-
der what kind of a lamp it can be."

He walked over and looked at the
strange object — a small, perforated cone,
from the many holes of which the white
light streamed. Noticing a projecting
button near the top of the black cone,
he made bold to touch it and give it a
slight turn. Instantly the holes had
closed and the room was in darkness.
He turned the button back and again
the holes were open and the room was
light as day.

"Well, that beats me!" muttered Bob.
"It looks like an electric light, but I
don't see any wires — there aren't any
wires. I must find Fitz and learn about
this thing."

He peeped into the adjoining room,
which was in darkness, and called:

"Fitz! Oh, Fitz!"

"Huh!" was the startled reply.

"Are you asleep, Fitz?"

"Yes — no, I guess so — I guess not, I
mean."

Bob laughed.

"Well, get up and come in here," he
said.

"Why, it isn't morning yet," the gob-
lin objected.

"I've had my sleep out, anyhow."

"I haven't."

"Well, get up and come in here, won't
you?"

"I suppose I might as well," grum-
bled Fitz; "you won't let me sleep any
more." Then, appearing in the door-
way and rubbing his pop eyes and blink-
ing: "Now, what do you want?"

"First, I want to know what kind of
light this is," indicating the little black
cone.

"Why, it's an electric light, of
course," Fitz Mee made answer, in a
tone that showed his surprise and wonder

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

that Bob should ask such a question.

"I don't see how it can be — I don't
see any wires," the boy returned.

"Wires?" chuckled Fitz. "We don't
need any wires."

"Well, where does the electricity come
from, then?"

"From the bug under the cone."

"The bug?"

"Yes, the electric firefly. Didn't you
ever see one?"

Bob shook his head, half in negation,
half in incredulity.

"Well, I guess they're peculiar to
Goblinland, then," Fitz went on, grin-
ing impishly. "We raise them here by
thousands and use them for lighting pur-
poses. The electric firefly is a great
bug. Like the electric eel, it gives one
a shock, if he touches it; and like the
ordinary firefly it sheds light, but elec-
tric light, and very bright. I'll show
you."

He gingerly lifted the perforated
cone.

There lay a bug, sure enough, a bug
about the size of a hickory nut, and so
scintillant, so bright, that the eye could
hardly gaze upon it.

"And this is the only kind of light
you have in Goblinville, Fitz?" the boy
asked.

"Yes. We light our houses, our
streets, our factories, our mines, every-
thing with them."

"Wonderful!" Bob exclaimed. "And
what do you do for fire, for heat?"

"We don't need heat for our dwell-
ings. Owing to the fact that our coun-
try is protected from all cold winds by
the high cliffs around it, and that the
earth crust is thin over the fires of the
volcano below, the temperature remains
about eighty the year round. Then we
don't cook any crude, nasty food, as you
humans do; so — "

"No, you live on pills!" Bob inter-
jected, in a tone of scorn and disgust.
"Bah!"
"So," Fitz Mee went on smoothly, un-

heeding his comrade's splenetic irrup-
tion, "all we need heat for is in running
our factories. For that we bore down
to the internal fire of the earth."

"Gollee!" Bob ejaculated. "You
do?"

"Yes."

"Well, where are your factories, Fitz?
I didn't see anything that looked like
factories when we got out of the bal-
loon."

"They're all in caverns hewn in the
cliffs."

"And the fire you use comes from
way down in the ground?"

"Yes."

"And you light your factories with
electric fireflies?"

The goblin gravely nodded.

Bob was thoughtfully silent a moment,
then he remarked:

"It must be awfully hot work in your
factories — the men shut up in caves, and
no fresh air."

"We have plenty of fresh air in our
works," Fitz hastened to make plain.
"We have large, funnel shaped tubes run-
ning up to the mountain tops. The cold
wind pours down through them, and we
can turn it off or on at our pleasure."

"Say!" Bob cried.

"What?" queried his companion.

"I'd like to go through your fac-
tories."

"You mean what you say, Bob?"

"Mean what I say?" said Bob in sur-
prise bordering on indignation. "Of
course I do."

"That you'd like to go through our
factories?"

"Certainly. Why not?"

"When do you want to make the — the
experiment — the effort?"

"Today — right away, soon as we've
had something to eat."

"All right, Bob," with a smile and
a shake of the head, "but —

"But what?"

"Oh, nothing. We'll have breakfast
and be off. It's coming daylight, and

the factories will be running full blast
in an hour from now."

"More pills for breakfast, I reckon,"
Bob grumbled surlily.

"More tablets and pellets," Fitz Mee
grinned, rubbing his hands and rolling
his pop eyes.

"Huh!" the boy grunted ungraciously.
"I wish you folks cooked and ate food
like civilized people. I'm getting tired
of nothing but pills. I can't stand it
very long — that's all."

"You'll get used to it," the goblin
said consolingly.

"Used to it!" the boy snorted angrily.
"Yes, I'll get used to it like the old
man's cow got used to living on sawdust;
about the time she was getting used to
it she died."

But he accepted the tablets and pel-
lets his comrade offered him, and meekly
swallowed them. Then they caught up
their caps and left the house.

Bob and his comrade went straight to
the mayor's office; and to that august
official Fitz Mee said:

"Your honor, Master Taylor wishes
to go through our factories."

"So I've heard," the mayor answered
grimly, "but could hardly credit my
ears." Then to Bob: "Master Taylor,
is this true that I hear; that you desire
to go through our factories?"

"Yes sir," Bob replied respectfully
but sturdily, rather wondering, however,
why such an ado should be made over
so small a matter.

"Very well, Fitz Mee, "said the mayor
to that worthy, "I'll depend upon you
to see that Master Taylor goes through
our factories; and I'll hold you respon-
sible for any trouble that may arise.
Here's your permit."

When the two were out of the mayor's
presence and on their way to the fac-
tories, Bob remarked:

"Fitz, what did the mayor mean by
saying that he'd hold you responsible

for any trouble that might arise?"

"Oh, nothing — nothing!" Fitz Mee
answered hurriedly and grumpily.

The boy questioned his companion
no further, and soon they crossed one
of the picturesque bridges spanning the
brook, ascended a long, gentle slope to
the base of the black cliffs, and stood
before a wide, nail studded door.

To the officer on guard Fitz Mee pre-
sented the mayor's permit. The guard
deliberately and carefully read the slip
of paper, then he lifted his brows, drew
down the corners of his mouth and
grunted pompously :

"Fitz Mee, you're aware of the import
of this official document?"

Fitz Mee nodded gravely, grimly, and
Bob looked from one to the other in
silent wonder.

The guard went on: "This permit of
his honor, the mayor, says that not only
is Master Robert Taylor, the friend and
comrade of the Honorable Fitz Mee,
hereby permitted to go through our fac-
tories, but by the same token is com-
pelled to go through them — this being
his expressed desire and pleasure; and
that the Honorable Fitz Mee shall be
held responsible for any trouble that
may thereby arise. That's all right, is it,
Fitz Mee?"

"It's all right," Fitz muttered sullenly
but determinedly.

"Pass in," said the officer, unbolting
the door and dragging it open.

As soon as the two had stepped over
the sill the door was slammed shut be-
hind them, and Bob heard the great
bolts shot into place and shuddered in
spite of himself.

On each side of him were smooth,
solid walls of rock; ahead of him
stretched a dusky corridor, dimly lighted
with electric fireflies suspended here
and there. The dull rumble of distant
machinery came to his ears; the faint
smell of smoke and sulphurous fumes
greeted his olfactories.

"Fitz?" the lad said to his comrade,

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

who stood silent at his side. The goblin
simply gave the speaker a look in reply.

"Fitz!" Bob continued, "what's the
meaning of all this talk about my going
through the factories? What's the mat-
ter, anyhow?"

"Nothing — nothing!" Fitz murmured
hoarsely, shiftily gazing here and there.

"Yes there is," the boy insisted.
"Why do you all emphasize the word
"through?"

"Why — why," Fitz stammered, rub-
bing his jiose and blinking his pop eyes,
"we thought maybe you didn't mean
that you desired to go through the fac-
tories; thought maybe you meant you
desired to go partly through, only — just
wanted to see some of the things."

"No," Bob hastily made reply, "I
want to go through ; I want to see every-
thing. Understand?"

Fitz nodded.

"Well, come on, then," he said;
"we've got to be moving."

As they moved along the corridor,
Bob became aware of doors ahead open-
ing to right and left. He saw the flash
of flames and heard the whirr of wheels
and the hubbub of hammers.

"This room to the right," said Fitz
Mee, "is the machine shop; that on the
left is the forging room."

They visited each in turn, and the lad
was delighted with all he saw.

"He! he!" he laughed, when they were
again out in the corridor, and free from
the clash and thunder and din that had
almost deafened them. "The idea, Fitz,
of me not wanting to go through your
factories; of not wanting to see every-
thing! You bet I want to go through!
You thought I'd be afraid; that's what
you thought, and the mayor, too. But
I'll show you; I'm no baby — not much!"

His companion grinned impishly, but
made no reply.

The next place they entered was the
great moulding room. Open cupolas
were pouring forth white hot streams of
molten metal, which half nude and

sweaty, grimy goblins were catching in
ladles and bearing here and there. The
temperature of the room was almost un-
bearable; the atmosphere was poisonous
with sulphurous gases.

Bob crossed the threshold and stopped.

"Come on," commanded his compan-
ion; "we must hurry along, or we won't
get through today."

"I — I don't believe I care to go
through here," Bob said hesitatingly.

"Why?" Fitz Mee jerked out.

"It's so awful hot and smelly," the
boy explained; "and I'm — I'm a little
afraid of all that hot metal."

"No matter; you must go through
here."

"I must?" Bob said indignantly.

"Certainly. You said you'd be
pleased to go through our factories; so
now you must go through — through every
apartment. Boys in Goblinville, you
know, must do what pleases 'em."

"But it doesn't please me to go
through this fiery furnace, Fitz."

"Well, boys're not allowed to change
their minds every few minutes in Gob-
linville. Come on."

"I won't!" Bob said obstinately.

"You'll get into trouble, Bob."

"I don't care."

"And you'll get me into trouble."

"You in trouble? How?"

"You heard what the mayor said,
didn't you?"

"Y-e-s."

"Well?"

"Well, I'll go through, for your sake,
Fitz; but I don't want to. Doggone
such a fool law or custom — or whatever
it is — that won't let a fellow change his
mind once in a while, when he feels
like it! A great way that is, to let a
boy do as he pleases! But lead on."

They sauntered through the moulding
room, Bob trembling and dodging and
blinking, and out into the corridor again.

"Gee!" the urchin exclaimed, inhal-
ing a deep breath of relief. "I don't
want any more of that! I'm all in a

LITTLE GREEN GOBLIN OF GOBLINVILLE

sweat and a tremble; I was afraid all
the time some of that hot metal would
splash on me."

"It does splash on the workers at
times," Fitz Mee observed quietly.

Unheeding his companion's remark,
Bob continued : "And my lungs feel all
stuffy. I couldn't stand such a hot and
smelly place more than a few minutes."
"How do you suppose the moulders
stand it, for ten hours a day?" Fitz
asked.

"I don't see how they do, and don't
see why they do," the boy replied.
"You don't see why they do?"
"No, I don't."

"For the same reason workmen stand
disagreeable and dangerous kinds of
work in your country, Bob — to earn a
living."

"I wouldn't do it," the boy declared
loftily.

"You might have to, were you a grown
man or goblin."

"Well, I wouldn't. My papa doesn't
have to do anything of the kind."
"You father's a physician, isn't he?"
"Yes."

"Well, doesn't he miss meals, and

lose sleep, and worry over his patients,

and work sometimes for weeks at a

stretch without rest or peace of mind?"

"Yes, he does."

"But you'd rather do that than be a
common laborer for eight or ten hours
a day, would you?"

"I — I don't know; I'd rather just be
a boy, and have fun all the time. And
I guess I've seen enough, of your fac-
tories, Fitz; I want to get out into the
fresh air and the sunshine again."

"You must go on through," the goblin
answered, quietly but positively.

"Well, have we seen nearly all there
is to see?"

"No, we've just begun; we haven't
seen one-tenth part yet."

"Oh, dear!" Bob groaned. "I never
can stand it, Fitz; it'll take us all day,'*
"Yes," the goblin nodded.

"Well, I tell you I can't stand it."
"But you must; it was your choice."
"Choice!" angrily. "I didn't know
what it would be like."

"You shouldn't have chosen so rashly.
Come on."

Bob demurred and pleaded, and whim-
pered a little, it must be confessed; but
his guide was inexorable.

It is not necessary nor advisable to
enter into details in regard to all the
boy saw, experienced and learned. Let
it suffice to say that at three o'clock that
afternoon he was completely worn out
with strenuous sight seeing. The grat-
ing, rumbling, thundering sounds had
made his head ache; the sights and
smells had made his heart sick. He
had seen goblins, goblins, goblins— gob-
lins sooty and grimed, goblins wizened
and old before their time; goblins grind-
ing out their lives in the cutlery factory;
goblins inhaling poisonous fumes in the
chemical works; goblins, like beasts of
burden, staggering under heavy loads;
goblins doing this thing, that thing, and
the other thing that played havoc with
their health and shortened their lives.
And he was disgusted — nauseated with
it all!

"Oh, Fitz!" he groaned. "I can't go
another step; I can't stand it to see any
more! I thought it would be pleasant;
but, oh dear!"

"Sit down here and rest a minute,"
Fitz Mee said, not unkindly, indicating
a rough bench against the wall of the
corridor. "Now, why can't you bear to
see any more?"

"Oh, it's so awful!" the boy moaned.
"I can't bear to see 'em toiling and
suffering — to see 'em so dirty and
•wretched!"

The goblin laughed outright.
"Bob, you're a precious donkey!" he
cried. "True, the workers in the fac-
tories toil hard at dirty work — work that
shortens their lives in some cases; but
they're inured to it, and they don't
mind it as much as you think. And what

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

would you? All labor is hard, if one
but thinks so; there are no soft snaps, if
one does his duty. It's the way of the
goblin world, and it's the way of the
human world. All must labor, all must
suffer more or less; there's no escape
for the highest or the lowest. And work
has its compensation, brings its reward;
it ~"

"Oh, shut up!" the lad muttered petu-
lantly. "I don't want to hear any more.
You talk just like my papa does. I wish
I'd never been born, if I've got to grow
up and work. So there!"

"You'll never grow up, if you stay in
Goblinville, Bob," Fitz Mee said softly;
but his pop eyes were twinkling humor-
ously. "And you won't have to work —
not much, at any rate."

Bob was soberly silent; evidently he
was doing some deep thinking.

The goblin went on- "If you're rested
now, we'll resume our sight seeing."

"I don't want to see any more," the
lad grunted pugnaciously; "and I'm not
going to, either."

"Yes, come on."

"I won't do it!"

"Please do, Bob."

"I won't, I say."

"You'll get us both into trouble."

"I don't care if I do."

"They'll send us to prison."

"What!"

"They will."

"Who will?"

"The mayor and his officers."

"Send us both?"

"Yes."

"Well," bristling, "I guess they won't
send me— the old meddlers! They won't
dare to; I'm not a citizen of this coun-
try."

"That won't make any difference,
Bob."

"It will, too. If they send me to
prison the people of my country'll come
over here and — and lick 'em out of their
boots. Now!"

Fitz Mee bent double and stamped

about the floor, laughing till the tears
ran down his fat cheeks. But suddenly
he sobered and said:

"Come on, Bob. You've got to."

"I won't!" the boy declared per-
versely. "I haven't got to."

The goblin made no further plea, but
placing a silver whistle to his lips, blew
a shrill blast. In answer, a squad of
officers stepped from the shadows.

"What's wanted, Fitz Mee?" said the
leader.

"This boy flatly refuses to obey the
law — to go on through the factories, as
he stated would please him."

"Boy, is this true?" demanded an
officer. .

"Yes, it is," Bob confessed fearlessly,
shamelessly.

"Fitz Mee, he confesses," muttered
the officer. "What would you have me
do?"

"Take him up and carry him through,"
Fitz Mee said remorselessy.

"Very well," answered the officer.
"But if we do that, we take the case
out of your hands, Fitz Mee. And in
order to make a satisfactory report to
the mayor, we'll have to carry him
through all the factories — those he has
already visited, as well as those he has
not."

"Yes, that's true," Fitz nodded.

"What's that?" Bob cried, keenly con-
cerned.

The officer gravely repeated his state-
ment.

"Oh, nonsense!" the boy exclaimed.
"You fellows go away and quit bother-
ing me. I never saw such a country!
A fine place for a boy to do as he
pleases, surely! Come on, Fitz."

All the goblins laughed heartily, and
Bob disrespectfully made faces at them,
to their increased amusement.

When the two comrades had finished
their round of the factories, and were
out in the fresh air again, the boy mur-
mured meekly, a sob in his throat:

"Fitz, I'm tired — I'm sick of it all.

LITTLE GREEN GOBLIN OF GOBLINVILLE

I wish I hadn't come here; I — I wish
I was back home again."

"What!" his companion cried, in
assumed surprise.

"I do."

"Back home, and be compelled to obey
your elders, your parents and your
teacher?" Fitz Mee said, grinning and
winking impishly.

"Well, it wouldn't be any worse than
being compelled to obey a lot of fool
officers, anyhow."

"You're just compelled to do what
pleases you— just as I told you," Fitz
explained smoothly.

"Oh, do shut up!" the lad pouted.

"You're out of sorts; you're hungry,"
the goblin giggled; "you need some
food tablets."

"Bah!" Bob gagged. "Pills! I can't
swallow any more of 'em — I just can't!
Oh, I wish I had a good supper like
mother cooks!"

Fitz Mee threw himself prone and
kicked and pounded the earth, laughing
and whooping boisterously, and Bob.
stood and stared at him in silent disap-
proval and disgust.

VII

As the days passed Bob became
more and more disgruntled, more and
more dissatisfied with things in Goblin-
ville. The bare thought of food tablets
and drink pellets disgusted and nause-
ated him; and he could hardly swallow
them at all. . The young goblins would
not, could not, play the games he liked
to play. They were too small, for one
reason, and then, as it did not please
them to do so, they were not permitted
to do so. And the boy was without
youthful companionship. The only as-
sociates he had were his faithful com-
rade Fitz Mee and the officers of the
town, who were always at his elbow to
see that he did what pleased him. This
constant espionage became simply un-
bearable, and the lad grew peevish,
gloomy, desperate.

At last he broke down and tearfully
confessed to his comrade:

"Fitz, I want to go back home; I
do — I do! I can't stand it here any
longer. It isn't at all what I thought
it would be like, and I'm homesick."

Fitz Mee did not laugh; he did not
smile, even. On the contrary, he looked
very grave and a little sad.

"So you're homesick, Bob, eh?"

"Yes, I am, Fitz."

"And you desire to go home?"

"Uh-huh."

"You don't like things here in Gob-
linville?"

"No, I don't."

"What is it you object to?"

"Oh, everything!"

"But especially?"

"Well, the pills, I— I guess."

"Oh, that's all, Bob!" joyfully. "We
can fix that all right. I'll get a special
permit from the mayor — he's a political
friend of mine — to let me prepare you
food like you've been accustomed to.
Then you'll be as happy as a clam,
won't you?"

"I — I don't hardly know, Fitz; no,
I don't think I will."

"What!"

"Uh-uh."

"Well, what else is wrong, then?"

The goblin's pop eyes were dancing
with mischief.

"I don't like to be compelled to do
what pleases me," Bob confessed shame-
facedly.

"Ho! ho!" laughed Fitz Mee.

"Oh, you can laugh!" the boy cried,
in weak irritation. "But I don't!"

"You said it would just suit you, Bob
— before you came here," Fitz chuckled
hoarsely, holding his sides and rocking
to and fro.

"I know I did, but I'd never tried it."

"And you don't like it?"

"No, indeed," Bob answered very
earnestly.

"And you're homesick, and want to
go home?"

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

The boy nodded, his eyes downcast.

"All the goblins'll laugh at you if you
go to leave Goblin vi lie."

"Well, let'em; I don't care."

"And your people and your school-
mates will laugh at you when you return
home."

Bob was silent, deeply pondering.

"Don't you care?" Fitz Mee asked,
cackling explosively.

"Yes, I do! But I've got to go, any-
how; I'll die here."

"Oh, no, you won't, Bob," said the
goblin teasingly.

"I will, too; I know," said Bob, des-
perately in earnest.

"You'll have to go to school if you
return home."

"I don't mind that; I'll have other
boys to play with, anyhow."

"Yes, but you'll have to obey the
teacher.

"I know."

"And you'll have to do what pleases
your parents."

"I know that, too."

"And you won't be permitted to do
what pleases yourself."

"I know; I've thought it all over,
Fitz."

"And yet you wish to return home?"

"Yes, I do."

Fitz Mee laughed gleefully, uproari-
ously, irrationally, laughed till the tears
coursed down his cheeks and his fat
features were all a-quiver.

"Ho! ho!" he gasped at last. "Rob-
erty-Boberty, you're not the same boy
you were, not at all. You're not half
as high and mighty. What's come over
over you, hey?"

"I ' ve — I ' ve learned something, I — I
guess, Fitz."

"Oh, you have!"

"Uh-huh."

"What?"

"I'm not going to say," said Bob,
grinning sheepishly, "but I think I know
what you brought me to Goblinlatnd for."

"What for?"

"W-e-11, to— to teach me what I've
learned. Didn't you?"

"I'm not going to say," mimicked the
goblin.

Then both tittered.

"And you're bound to go back home,
Bob?" Fitz pursued.

The boy nodded.

"You're a pretty looking thing to go
back to Yankeeland — a little mite of a
human like you!" sneeringly. "You'll
never grow — always be a contemptible
little dwarf."

"Oh, Fitz!" the lad wailed. "Is that
true? Can't I be made a real boy
again; won't I ever grow any more?"

"How can you?" countered his com-
panion. "You took the gob-tabs to
make you small, to make a dwarf of
you. How can you?"

"Oh, Fitz! Fitz!" the boy groaned.
"Why did you play me such a trick?"

"I didn't play you any trick," the
goblin answered, with difficulty sup-
pressing a grin. "You desired to come
to Goblinville, and, in order to bring
you, I had to shrink you."

"But can't you give me something
that will — will stretch me and swell me
again, Fitz?" said Bob eagerly, anx-
iously. "Can't you?"

"I don't know," with a solemn and
reflective shake of the head. "I never
heard of a drug or chemical that would
do what you wish; but it's barely possi-
ble our chemists may know of something
of the kind. I'll see about it. But
here's a difficulty."

"What— what, Fitz?"

"Why, there's no means of getting out
of Goblinland except by balloon, and I
doubt if my balloon will carry you at
full and normal weight."

"But can't you get a bigger one?"

"I might have one made; I don't —

"Oh, no — no, Fitz!" the boy inter-
rupted frantically. "Don't think of
doing that; I can't wait. Can't you
borrow a bigger one?"

"There are no bigger ones, except the

LITTLE GREEN GOBLIN OF GOBLINVILLE

mayor's state balloon. It has two
feather beds lashed together for a bag
and a very large car."

"Can't you get it — can't you, Fitz?"

"I don't know, indeed. Then, here's
another difficulty, Bob — and a greater
one, to. my mind."

"Oh, Fitz! Fitz!" the boy moaned,
wringing his hands.

"Yes," the goblin nodded gravely,
but his twinkling pop eyes belied his
words. "You see, Bob, you're the first
human being that has ever come to
Goblinland. Now, the secrets of the
country, including the secret of its
whereabouts, even, have always been
carefully guarded. I don't know what
his honor, the mayor, will say about
letting you go."

"I won't tell anything, Fitz — I won't
— I won't!"

"Not a thing?" questioned Fitz Mee.

"No, sir,— not a thing."

"We-e-11, I — I don't know. What
will you do, Bob, if the mayor won't
let you go back home?"

"I'll just die— that's what!"

The goblin slapped his thin thighs and
laughed and whooped, and laughed some
more.

Out of patience, the lad screamed:

"Laugh! Laugh till you burst, you
old Convulsions! You old Spasms! You
old Hysterics! Yeah! Yeah!"

And Fitz Mee did laugh, till he was
entirely out of breath, and panting and
wheezing like a bellows. When at last
he had regained control of himself he
whispered brokenly:

"Bob, we'll — we'll go and see — the
mayor."

And they caught up their caps and
were off.

"So you wish to go home, boy?" said
the mayor, the august ruler of Goblin-
ville and all adjacent territory, as soon
as the two were ushered into his pres-
ence.

"Yes sir," Bob answered humbly.
Then, with true boyish inquisitive-

ness, "But how did you know it?"

"Never mind," was the gruff reply.
"It will please you to return home,
will it?"

"Yes sir, indeed it will."

"Then you must go. Be off at once."

"But— but," Bob began. .

"I'll fix all that," his honor inter-
rupted, quickly divining what the boy
meant to say. "I'm as anxious to be
rid of you as you are to be gone.
You've stirred up a pretty rumpus here
— you have. You're the first human boy
that ever came into my domain, and
you'll be the last. But I trust your ex-
perience has done you good, eh?"

Bob nodded.

"Very well, then. Sign this pledge,
that you won't reveal what you've seen
and learned, and that you'll take the
lesson to heart."

Bob gladly signed the pledge.

"Now," continued the mayor, his eyes
snapping humorously, "these are the
conditions under which you must leave
my domain: I'll call in the chemists and
have them restore you to normal size;
I've already communicated with them,
and they assure me they can do it.
Then I'll let the honorable and worthy
Fitz Mee take my state balloon and carry
you back to Yankeeland. You will set
out this afternoon at one o'clock. But
one other thing I exact: you must bear
nothing away with you that you did not
bring here with you." And the mayor
gave the boy a keen, searching, mean-
ingful look that the latter could not
interpret.

The chemists came in — three aged
and bewhiskered goblins wearing long,
black robes and silk skull caps.

"My good chemists," said the mayor,
"are you ready for the experiment?"

"All ready, your honor," the eldest
of the three made answer, bowing pro-
foundly.

"To work, then," the mayor com-
manded.
., The younger two advanced and caught

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

and held Bob's hands, their fingers upon
his pulse. The oldest produced a tiny
phial of thick, opalescent liquid.

"Put out your tongue," he said to the
boy.

The lad unhesitatingly obeyed, and
the aged and trembling chemist let a
drop of the viscid liquid fall upon the
tip of the youngster's quivering organ*
of speech.

The effect was instantaneous and
startling, if not marvelous. Bob let out
a mad bellow of pain, shaking his head
and writhing and drooling. The mayor
changed countenance and deprecatingly
shook his head. Fitz Mee groaned
aloud.

"Draw in your tongue and shut your
mouth and swallow!" the three savants
simultaneously yelled at the boy.

Bob reluctantly did as he was told,
and immediately, instantaneously, he
was restored to normal size.

"Whoopee!" shouted the chemists,
embracing one another and indulging in
mad capers and other manifestations of
insane joy. "A success! A complete
success!"

"Thank goodness!" murmured Fitz
Mee. "A success!"

"Yes," the mayor muttered drily,
grimly, "a remarkable success — a too
remarkable success. My good chemists,
destroy what you have left of that stuff,
and make no more on your peril. I'm
not going to have a race of grotesque
goblin giants for subjects — a prize right-
ing, football playing lot! You hear me!"
Then to Fitz Mee:

"You take your departure from the
public square at one o'clock, remember.
The state balloon will be there in readi-
ness. You're excused."

When the two comrades were again
at Fitz Mee's residence, Bob remarked
ingenuously:

"Fitz, while you're getting ready I'm
going to gather up some of the gold
nuggets I saw on the shore of the
brook."

"Better not," Fitz replied, without
looking up from his work.

"Why?"

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

"Well, why?"

"They're not yours."

"I know. But you goblins make no
use of them, and it wouldn't be wrong
— wouldn't be stealing, would it?"

"No," Fitz Mee mumbled, "it
wouldn't be robbery, exactly. But you
heard what the mayor said."

"What about?"

"That you weren't to take anything
away with you that you didn't bring
here with you."

"Yes, I heard him. Is that what he
meant?"

"To be sure."

"Well, why does he object to my tak-
ing a few old nuggets of gold that none
of you will use?" said Bob peevishly.

"For this reason, Bob: You take that
gold back to Yankeeland and tell where
you got it — '

"But I won't tell where I got it," the
lad interrupted. Unheeding, the goblin
continued : "And your money mad peo
pie will search out our country and con-
quer and ruin us."

"Oh, pshaw, Fitz!"

"What I say is true, Bob."

But Bob was neither convinced nor
satisfied, and he resolved to have the
nuggets at all hazard. Where was the
harm? The gold was of no value to the
goblins; it would be of great value to
him, and he wouldn't say a word about
where he got it — indeed he wouldn't!
He would take it, and no one would be
the wiser or the poorer. So, while his
comrade was busy at other things, he
slipped out to the brookside and filled
his pockets.

One o'clock came, the time of depar-
ture, and all Goblinville, including the
mayor and his officers, was out to see
the aeronauts off upon their long voyage.
The mayor shook hands with the two
and wished them godspeed, and the

LITTLE GREEN GOBLIN OF GOBLINVILLE

populace gave them three hearty cheers.

Then the anchor was weighed and
they were off. Slowly and majestically
the great state balloon began to ascend.
But when it had risen a hundred feet,
Bob, looking over the side of the car,
became aware of a disturbance in the
crowd beneath. He saw goblins ex-
citedly running this way and that and
a number of officers trundling a big,
black object upon wheels across the
public square.

"What's the meaning of the rumpus,
Fitz — what's that the officers have?" the
lad cried to his companion.

"Why," Fitz gasped, taking a hurried
look beneath, "the officers are running
out the dynamite gun!"

"And they're training it upon our
balloon — upon us!" Bob Whispered
hoarsely, his soul a prey to guilty fear.

"What — what can it mean, Fitz?"

Then arose the voice of the mayor,
bellowing:

"Fitz Mee, descend! come back!
That boy can't leave Goblinland with
his pockets full of gold. He has de-
ceived me; he can't leave Goblinland
at all. Come down; or we'll send a
dynamite shell through the balloon bag,
and bring you down in a hurry!"

Fitz gave a few strokes to the pump,
and the big balloon came to a stop.
Bob sat silent, speechless at the dread
result of his rash act.

"You've played the mischief, you
have, Bob Taylor!" his companion
snarled angrily, reproachfully. "And
you'll get to spend the balance of your
days in Goblinland — that's what!"

"Oh, dear!" the boy found voice to

moan. "Oh, dear!"

"Hello!" Fitz called over the side of
the car. "Hello, your honor!"

"Hello!" answered the mayor.

"If I'll make the boy throw the gold
down to you, will that satisfy you?"

"No, it won't!" came the hoarse and
determined reply. "Bring the young
scamp back. He shall stay in Goblin-
ville!"

"I guess I won't!" Bob shouted, des-
peration spurring his courage, and he
sprang to the air tank and opened the
cock. The balloon began to rise swiftly.

"Oh., Bob— Bob!" Fitz Mee groaned.
"What have you done! We'll both be
killed!"

"Boom!" went the dynamite gun, and
a shell tore through the balloon bag,
rending it asunder and sending goose
feathers fluttering in all directions.

The car began to drop like a plummet.
Its occupants let out shrill screeches
of terror. Then came the proverbial
dull, sickening thud!

Bob felt the empty balloon bag fall
over him and envelope him; and then
he lost consciousness.

"Bob, crawl out of there."

"Fitz! Fitz!" the boy cried, disen-
tangling himself and struggling to his
feet.

"Fits?" laughed a big, manly voice.
"Yes, I guess you've got 'em, Bob, and
you've rolled out of bed in one and
dragged the covers with you."

Bob blinked and rubbed his sleepy
eyes. There stood his father in the
doorway, grinning broadly.

"Hustle into your clothes, laddie,"
he said; "breakfast's ready."

SUMMER'S GOODBYE

A veil obscures the morning sky ;
O'er hill and dale deep shadows lie ;
The trees their branches toss on high ;

By Sarah Isham Coit

ROXBURY, CONNECTICUT

The zephyrs sigh, the blossoms die,
And Summer says, " Goodbye, goodbye"-
And Summer says, " Goodbye."

BEAUTIES OF THE AMERICAN STAGE

By Helen Arthur

NEW YORK CITY

XXIII

ROSALIND COGHLAN

ACCORDING to all the known signs,
Rosalind Coghlan should be a great
actress; her mother, her uncle, and now
her cousin Gertrude have all shown the
public that they were and are in the
class distinguished for ability.

Rose Coghlan, today, is as well known
in the West and North as she is in the
South and East, while those older play
goers, who had the opportunity to see
her brother, Charles, in "A Royal Box"
speak of it as of a precious memory.
And now the careers of their two daugh-
ters are beginning.

I dined with young Rosalind Coghlan
— and she is young, not yet twenty —
and I heard a great deal of "mamma"
and "Uncle Charles," not spoken with
any vain intent, but just the natural en-
thusiasm of youth taking no' account of
relationship.

"I can't begin to tell you how I love
to hear the burst of applause which
greets mother's entrance: when she was
playing Penelope in Phillips's 'Ulysses'
I used to go over to the Garden Theater
just to enjoy it. I was in a way brought
up on the stage, for I've travelled with
mother since my earliest days and often
sat in the flies playing with my dolly
and waiting for mamma.

"I don't look a bit like an actress, do
I? I mean in the sense that you'd pick
me out and say: 'She's surely on the
stage'. Mamma doesn't mean to let
any of the objectionable features creep
into my life. She knows what they are
and she's twice as strict with me as she
would be, were I not following her pro-
fession.

"In the abstract, it is nice to be guid-
ed by experience, but sometimes it is

hard to obey someone, who says: 'My
dear, I know— I've been through it all'
— when what you want is just to be al-
lowed to go through. I've been on the
stage almost all my life. I've been the
baby, the little girl, and the young miss
in plays with mother. I remember once
when my uncle and mother were playing
together, and Uncle Charles wanted me
to do something which I didn't choose to
do, he picked me up and held me out
over the balcony in front of his dressing
room, and said: 'Now, young lady, you
do that, or I'll drop you', and I said:
'Drop me, Uncle Charles'. That was
the real Coghlan stubbornness, and he
understood it, and gave in.

"Mother is a great help to me. I al-
ways rehearse to her, and there's one
gift I have apparently inherited, the
ability to memorize lines quickly. When
I was in the Cleveland Stock Company,
and there was a new play each week, I'd
have my lines learned before anyone else,
and besides I use to end by knowing
the entire play.

"We have dozens and dozens of plays
which uncle wrote, and many of them
mother thinks are great. She says she
will produce them 'some day' — and I
mean to assist.

"Last year I was in Mr. William Gil-
lette's company. He is one of the best of
stage directors; besides he is so thought-
ful of everyone that it is a privilege to
play with him.

"This year I am to be Mr. Crane's
leading woman. I have a long contract
with Mr. Frohman, and I hope to work
into serious roles. Mother makes me
do each part carefully, and read system-
atically, but aside from that I am put
through no stunts. I would like to sing
in comic opera for just one season, but
everyone seems to think the idea a

BEAUTIES OF THE AMERICAN STAGE

ROSALIND COGHLAN, TALENTED DAUGHTER OF ROSE COGHLAN
From a photograph by Otto Sarony Co., New York

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

foolish one, and reminds me of the
comedian who longs to play 'Hamlet.'
"Mother and I keep our apartment
in New York for the year round, and
some times we are made happy by

JULIA SANDERSON IN "FANTANA"
Photograph by Otto Sarony Co.

both playing here at the same time, so
that real happpiness gets sandwiched in
with all our hard work; however, those
two things are all I want,— work and
happiness, — and I have them both."

XXIV

JULIA SANDERSON
DLAYING one of the most important

roles in a musical comedy which has
had the longest run of any since the
good old "Florodora" days, is a girl
whose name was quite unknown to any
audience. Julia Sanderson has the win-
ning gift of artlessness, and she has it
to that degree which makes the people
out in front wonder if it's real or only
part of her method. I couldn't tell, be-
cause between the acts of "Fantana"
one could hardly get out of the part and
back to one's natural self, so it seemed
to me; and, besides, the two might be
practically synonymous, for her role is
that of a young, enthusiastic American
girl and nothing more.

She had an unusually attractive dress-
ing room, and I said something about it
and the difference between now and two
seasons ago, when she had to share one
small room with other chorus girls. She
looked over at me with a half smile and
said: "Knock wood — I may go back to
it, that's the beauty of this profession; it
should keep us humble. I haven't any-
thing to say about myself that's worth
listening to, and I'm not going to pre-
tend that I have.

"Of course I know that luck or fate,
or whatever you want to call it, seems to
have helped me out a great deal. I had an
understudy role in 'Winsome Winnie'
— so had four or five others; my princi-
pal fell ill and stayed ill and I played
the part. It went well, but no better
than would have been the case with the
roles of the other understudies, whose
principals enjoyed the good health
which alone balked their ambitions.

BEAUTIES OF THE AMERICAN STAGE

PAULINE FREDERICK, A BOSTON GIRL OF REAL PROMISE
Prom a photograph by White, New York

"Then, you see, the manager said:
'That young Sanderson girl has it in
her,' — probably the others 'had it in
them,' but no one found it out; so you
simply can't expect me to feel that great
genius has put me where I am — not if
you grant that I have a sense of humor.
Now that I have arrived at a certain
place, I find that it's easier to do things.
I have opportunities which I mean to
take advantage. of, a salary which admits
of having the best teachers and all that
sort of thing, so I'll make an appoint-

ment with you — five years from date —
and then I'll tell you how much credit
for my position belongs to me."

XXV

PAULINE FREDERICK
IN working out the destiny of the Ameri-
can stage, a very potent factor is the
character of the recruits. That is why,
when a young player does some bit
so well as to attract notice, I am always

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

glad to learn that a choice between the
easy things in life and the hard road of
work was hers, and that she elected toil.

When you hear someone say: "Why
should she want to go on the stage? She
has a good home, with plenty of money,"
do not at once suggest that vanity was
the cause, but wait and see what the
beginner does for herself and realize
that the sacrifice of one's ease is a good
proof of ambition.

Pauline Frederick had no illusions on
the subject of the stage, nor did she lack
for pleasures. In Boston, where she
was born, her family belonged to the
old, aristocratic "Back Bay colony," and
she was just launched on her season as
a debutante when the knowledge came
to her that a fashionable life would in
the end have no charms for her, and she
told her mother that she meant to go
on the stage. Her mother put no ob-
stacles in her way, but suggested that
as she had intended to be her guide and
companion in the social world, she
should continue as such in her profes-
sional career. I fancy Mrs. Frederick
said to herself: "My daughter will tire
of it in two months, but I want her to
do what she thinks she wants to." So,
down in the list of chorus girls, among
the many feminine names to be found in
a "Rogers Brothers" program, could be
discovered the name of Pauline Fred-
erick. Her singing voice was unusually
good, though quite untrained, and her

beauty much beyond the ordinary. She
was given the understudy role to Miss
Hattie Williams.

To be an understudy means as much
or as little as the player so selected may
choose, but to Miss Frederick it meant
a great deal, and she knew Miss Wil-
liams' songs and lines and business so
that she could have played at a moment's
notice. But Miss Williams' health showed
no signs of giving way simply to please
an ambitious understudy, so Miss Fred-
erick started in to learn other roles, and
as one of the smaller parts was left sud-
denly vacant one evening by the player's
illness, Miss Frederick got what she had
been waiting for, a chance to show her
own individuality. The manager re-
membered her, and though, to be sure,
she returned to the chorus the next day,
she was not forgotten ; the next year she
was given a small part in "The Princess
of Kensington." Miss Frederick works
constantly. She has her vocal lessons,
her fencing, her dancing and her dra-
matic instructions. "My day is no fuller
than it would be with teas, receptions
and callers, nor are my hours at the
theater as bad as those kept by the
society girl. I know because I've tried
both."

This year Miss Frederick had a
good part with Lew Field's company,
and no one was more delighted
than that same mother who had
been so sure "it wouldn't last."

BETWEEN THE LIGHTS * By Alice F. Tilden

MILTON, MASSACHUSETTS

I AM gliding into the dark, the dark,
To the sound of a dipping oar,
With the silent sea behind me spread,

And the silent sea before ;
And far on the height is the beacon light
I left on the fading shore.

The waters swirl below, below,

As the darkness swirls above ;
The soft night brushes against my hand

With the rush of a winging dove ; —
And near on the height is the beacon light

That lights me to my love !

BULB POINTERS

By Eva Ryman-Gaillard

GIRARD, PENNSYLVANIA

INDOOR CULTURE

NEARLY every person who forces hardy
bulbs in any way has tried forcing the
Chinese sacred lily and hyacinths in water,
but comparatively few try to force other
bulbs by the same method, though many
may be so treated with equal success.

Some bulbs produce slightly shorter stems
and smaller blooms when forced in water,
while others have finer blooms than when
grown in soil, but in any case they are
objects of interest to people who would
never notice them if grown in the usual way,
and it makes bulb culture possible to people
who live in crowded city localities where it
is impossible to get soil.

The common method of arranging bulbs
for water forcing is to put them in a glass
dish with pebbles enough to support and
hold them in position, but moss or some
similar substance may be used instead of
pebbles.

Get sphagnum moss, cocoanut fiber, the
prepared mixture sold by florists, sponge
clippings, or anything of like substance and
soak it in water until every fiber is thorough-
ly saturated Put a layer of charcoal in the
bottom of the dish to be used (to absorb im-
purities and keep the water sweet); over this,
spread a layer of the wet moss; place the'
bulbs on this, with moss between and around
them, and cover with a thin layer of moss.

Place in some cool, dark place where there
is a good circulation of air (never in a closed
cupboard or closet ) ; keep moss moist, but
not very wet. When the foliage is an inch
or more tall bring the bulbs to the light and

keep the moss a little more moist. As the
buds develop give more water, with a little
fertilizer or stimulant dissolved in it — as
advised for plants forced in soil.

Vases, bowls, dishes or plates of all shapes
and sizes may be used for this kind of
potting, but the same laws of arrangement
should be observed as in other methods of
growing.

For large bulbs that produce large blos-
soms and make a good showing in large
receptacles take a soft-baked, porous clay
pot ; fill it a quarter full of charcoal ; over
this arrange the bulbs and pebbles and then
set the pot into a jardiniere containing water.
If the jardiniere is too deep, place a brick or
an inverted dish under the pot. When the
water needs changing, the pot may be lifted
out and replaced without disturbing the
bulbs.

A large sponge makes a satisfactory hold-
er for a dozen or more crocuses, chiona-
doxa, scilla siberica, muscari, or other small
low growing bulbs. The sponge may be
trimmed to a round ball and hung like a
basket, but it is more easily kept moist if cut
flat on one side and put on a plate, in which
water can be kept. Take a large, coarse
sponge and soak it until swelled to its full
size; trim it to the desired shape and tuck
bulbs into the pores, or cut gashes for them
where needed. When the bulbs are in place
treat the sponge exactly as the dishes of
moss are treated.

It is a good plan, and sometimes less
trouble, to put bulbs in soil (using any old
dish ) and keep them in it until the buds are
well developed; then take them up, wash

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

all soil from the roots, and arrange in a fancy .
dish to finish their development. *

A very little of either nitrate of soda, or
saltpetre dissolved in the water is helpful
when a plant is being forced as rapidly as
possible in order to have it in bloom at any
given time, and another help toward rapid
development is a frequent change of water,
having the fresh water tepid when put around
the bulb.

An article on water culture of bulbs would
be incomplete without mention of the
Chinese method of preparing their sacred
lily bulbs : — Remove the brown scale at base
of bulb, but do not remove the offsets [small
bulbs], and then gash the bulb from the top
downward, almost to the base. Make four
gashes, cutting half an inch deep if the bulb
is large. Cut a couple of gashes, a quarter
of an inch deep, in each offset and the bulb
is ready for growing.

Those who try this method for the first
time will feel sure they have ruined the bulb,
but they have NOT, and will wonder after it
begins to bloom how one bulb can produce
so many blooms.

OUT - OF - DOOR CULTURE

In the southern states bulb planting may
be delayed until very late, but in the North
it should be done during October, or early
in November in order that root growth may

be completed before the soil freezes.

In spots where drainage is not perfect the
beds should be raised sufficiently to permit
any superfluous water to drain away, for
nothing is more fatal to bulbs than having
water stand and freeze around them.

For beds where bulbs are to be left undis-
turbed for a number of years it is best to
remove the soil and fill in a substratum of
well rotted manure ; placing it well below
the level of the bulbs. The roots will reach
down to it and the effect on them will be
more permanent than if the fertilizer is
mixed with the soil immediately surrounding
the bulbs. If the soil is heavy it should
have a small proportion of sand or leaf
mould (or both) mixed with it.

Soil for hyacinths, tulips, narcissus and
other large bulbs should be loosened and
pulverized to a depth of at least eighteen
inches. Place the bulbs from four to six
inches apart, and four inches below the sur-
face of the soil. For smaller bulbs more
shallow cultivation and planting is better,
other requirements being the same.

Each person has her own idea of beauty
and knows the amount of space at her
command and as these are the factors
which determine what kinds and how many
bulbs should be purchased, it is useless
to go into minute descriptions of varieties —
the catalogues do that — or to give plans for
bedding beyond the general cultural rules
already given.

HOW ONE WOMAN RETAINS HER BEAUTY
By Mrs. T. A. H.

AUBURN, NEW YORK

ONE of the secrets of prettiness and a
good complexion is preparing for the
night. No woman who merely gives her
face a slight washing before going to bed,
and leaves her hair up, can hope to keep her
youthful look. For unless hair and skin are
stimulated and cleaned both will be dull in
the morning. It takes one woman that I
know one hour to get ready for bed, and
she would rather have an hour and a quarter.
Her whole effect shows that she gives
herself care, and her skin and hair are joys.
Her arms and neck are soft and white, and
the texture of her skin is fine. She was not
originally a pretty woman, and in the strict-
est sense of the word she is not now, but she

is more than that — fresh and attractive.
Her method is one that should be followed,
for it involves little expense and the time is
a good investment. Every night she takes
a warm bath. " I prefer it to a tub in the
morning," she says, "because it relaxes my
nerves and gets them into condition to rest."
First of all she takes down her hair and
gives it a thorough brushing. Next she
gives her face a thorough cleaning. In place
of soap she rubs well into her cheeks, fore-
head and under her chin some Kentucky
cold cream made of two ounces rose water,
two ounces almond oil, one half ounce
spermaceti, one-half ounce white wax
and one-half dram tincture of benzoin.

THE HOME

This is easily made by herself by melting
the spermaceti and wax in an earthen dish
set in cold water. As soon as it melts she
removes it from the heat, beats in the almond
oil with a silver fork, and then adds the rose-
water, drop by drop, to prevent curding.;
after the rosewater add the benzoin. Pour
into a glass jar and keep covered. . After
this is rubbed into the face the completion
brush with very hot water is brougfot^into
use, and with those the cold cream is re-
moved. A rinse with cold water is given to
tighten the skin.

Having cleansed her face the woman then
takes her tub, using a bath brush and castile
soap. While the skin is warm from the bath
she massages her arms, throat and chest
with cucumber cream. This cream she
also makes. She takes two ounces of oil of
sweet almonds, five ounces of fresh cucum-
ber juice, one and one-half ounces of cu-
cumber essence, one-eighth ounce of pow-
dered castile and one-third dram of tincture
of benzoin. Obtain the juice by slicing the
cucumbers, skin and all, 'and boiling slowly

until they are soft and mushy. Strain
through a sieve and then through cheese-
cloth. The essence is made by putting to-
gether,equal parts of juice and high proof
alcohol! ,

To mix, put tLi essence into a large fruit
jar with the soap and let the latter dissolve ;
shake occasionally. In three hours add the
juice and shake again. Then pour the mix-
ture into an earthen dish and slowly add the
oil and benzoin, beating all the time. Lastly
add ten drops of violet extract.- The mixture
when finished should be smooth and milky.
This will dry inl^uie skin with massage.

The last thing the woman does before go-
ing to sleep is to assume a pleasant expres-
sion. You may think that sounds silly, but
if you go to sleep with your facial muscles
contracted they will soon show by giving you
habitually an unpleasant expression. She
makes it a rule to look pleasant. Con-
sequently, now that she is thirty-eight she is
supposed to be about twenty-eight. It
is just because she has learned how
to prepare herself for the night's rest.

GREAT-GRANDMOTHER'S QUILT

%*.
By Emily Hewitt Leland

POMONA, T E N N E S S~EE

INFINITESIMAL squares and stars
Of faded pink and green and blue,
Upon a ground of yellowed white,
And every stitch so fine. and true !

Five thousand stitches, at the least,
( In one wee square I count three score )

Those gentle, patient fingers wrought —
And goodness knows how many more !

A pretty quilt ! — it must have warmed
Its maker's heart with modest pride

When in the spare room, bright and new,
'Twas seen by all the countryside.

Like some quaint perfume, faintly sweet,
It breathes across our modern ways

Of quiet mind and tranquil toil,
The calm content of old-time days.

Ah, great-grandmamma — crowned soul !

(Afar ? — or near ? — who understands ! )
With moistened eye and reverent lip

I kiss the work of your dear hands.

THE FUNNY PICTURE MAN ^ By Miriam Sheffey

MARION, SMYTHE COUNTY. VIRGINIA

I WENT with mamma down the street to see the picture man.
He blew a whistle first and then he beat upon a pan.
He turned a double somersault, and jumped straight up and down.
He is the very funniest man that you could find in town.
He shook his fist and shouted " Boo ! " then winked his eye at me.
I never dreamed how full of fun a picture man could be.
The funniest thing was when he hid his head behind his gun,
Then popped it up again and said: " That's all. The deed is done I "

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

"As for the picture man be said I was a model model"

Then mamma flew and grabbed me up to kiss and hug and coddle.

As for the picture man, he said I was a model model !

Before we went my mamma said she hoped I wouldn't cry.

" Cry ? " Mercy me ! I laughed until I thought that I should die !

My mamma says this little girl looks just the -eery way

That I looked when I went to see the picture man that day !

LITTLE HELPS FOR HOME MAKERS

For each little help found suited for use in this department, we award one year's subscription to the National
Magazine. If you are already a subscriber, you can either extend your own term or send the National to a friend.
If your little help does not appear, it is probably because the same idea has been offered by someone else before
you Try again. Enclose a stamped and self addressed envelope if you wish us to return unavailable offerings.

KILLS BUGS ON PLANTS

By MRS. S. W. SHERMAN
Maiden, Massachusetts

I have been following a suggestion made to me this
Spring and find that saltpeter (prepared by dissolving
one tablespoonful in a bucket of water) will not only
kill bugs on vegetation but seems to act as a fertilizer
to the soil. Spray and then repeat two days later.
Two sprayings proved sufficient for the worst cases.

TO CLEANSE COMBS

By MRS. J. C. S.
Home worth, Ohio

I lately learned such an easy and simple way to
cleanse hair combs. Put a teaspoon or so of baking
soda in a wash basin, pour on hot, or good warm, soft
water. Throw in combs, let lay a little while, then
then take small brush and cleanse; soon they are clean
and sweet as if new.

THE HOME

101

SHORTCAKE CRUSTS

By MRS. E. C. D.

Rolfe, Iowa

When making shortcakes, instead of baking the de-
sired thickness, then splitting, my way is to bake in
two layers. Spread butter over the upper side of the
lower layer, and on top of this place the other one ;
then when baked they come apart easily. This is
much better than splitting the hot crust

PLANT PESTS

By J. F. M.
Center Ossipee, New Hampshire

At this time o' year (late June) when every green
growing thing is attacked by various bug-beetle-worm
pests, all garden people are at wits end to find a uni-
versal spray. The following is the first "sure thing "
we have used : one pint quassia chips ; one pint home
made soft soap; one tea cup kerosene oil.

Steep the quassia chips several hours in one gallon
of water (hot). Add one gallon of hot water to the
soap, and stir it until a strong " suds " is formed, add
to this the quassia solution, then the kerosene oil and
beat until thoroughly emulsified. To this now add
two gallons of water, making four gallons in all.
Apply this with any spraying machine or syringe,
and it will drive every eating thing from plants and
trees — both for indoor and outdoor plants.

HOW TO KEEP CREAM

By ETHEL HEALD MAC DONALD
Bangor, Maine

During the hot weather many find it difficult
tt> keep cream from souring even in the re'rigera-
tor, unless they use it very soon after it is bought.
Most of us who do not have cows, buy one-half pint at
a time. Take this quantity as soon as it reaches the
house, put in a bowl, add a heaping teaspoonful of
powdered sugar, six drops of vanilla and soda the size
of a small bean. Whip until foamy, but not thick.
Put on ice and it will keep a week even in hot weather.

SOME WAYS OF SERVING COCOA

By A. L.
New York City

By the cup: Put one-half teaspoonful Bensdorp's
Royal Dutch Cocoa and one teaspoonful granulated
sugar in a clean, dry cup, mix both well, add one-half
cup boiling water, stir until cocoa and sugar are dis-
solved, then add one-half cup rich milk, sweeten to
taste, and cocoa is ready. This is much improved by
boiling one minute.

By the quart: Mix thoroughly four teaspoonfuls
Bensdorp's Royal Dutch Cocoa and the same amount
of granulated sugar, add one pint hot water, stir until
all is a smooth syrup and boil three minutes, then add
one pint rich milk and bnng all to a boil. Whipped
cream when served is a great improvement.

Directions for making iced cocoa: Four ounces
Bensdorp's Royal Dutch Cocoa, six ounces granulated
sugar, mix cocoa and sugar well, add one quart boiling
water and stir until all is a smooth syrup.

For serving by the glass: Half fill glass with
shaved ice, add one or two ounces syrup, a little sugar
(say one-half teaspoonful), fill glass with half milk
and half water and shake well.

TO BEAUTIFY THE LAWN

By MRS. E. W. LOUDSBERG

Humboldt, Iowa

By digging away a strip of sod, about three or four
inches wide, from the walks and around the trees and
filling in the furrow thus made with fine white sand or
gravel, one can mow the grass off evenly and in con-
sequence the lawn is greatly improved and beautified.
If the sand is put in sufficiently deep no weeds or grass
will grow through and thereby, at the same time, a
clean effect will be brought forth.

TO REMOVE NUT MEATS

By CLARA VAN BUREN
Elgin, Illinois

Pecan and hickory nut meats can be easily removed
without breaking, by pouring boiling water over the
nuts and letting them stand until cold. Then crack
with a hammer, striking the small end of the pecan.

A HINT FOR WASHING DAY

By MARY A. HOGLE

Burr Oak, Michigan

In very cold weather, it is always imprudent for a
woman to hang out the clothes while over heated and
tired from doing a large washing. This can be obviated
by hanging them out the next day.

Take each piece and shake well, then drop it into
the basket, straightened out as much as possible, with
the corners which you wish to pin to the line hanging
over the edge of the basket. When all are in, in the
order in which you wish to hang them up, fold the cor-
ners that hang over the edge of the basket all together
back on top of the part already in the basket. Now,
cover all up smoothly with a heavy, damp towel, and
set the basket of wet clothes in some cold place where
there is no danger of freezing. This gives you an
opportunity to cool off gradually while cleaning
up the rooms, putting away tubs, etc.

In the morning, remove the towel, turn the ends of
pieces back over the edge of the basket, and there will
be no trouble in hanging them all out, without getting
chilled or suffering from aching fingers, and the clothes
will have plenty of time to dry, which they do not have
in short Winter days, if hung out after the washing is
done.

Dry flannels in the house if weather is cold enough
to freeze them.

DRIVES OUT MOSQUITOES

By MRS. A. J. BOYD
Chambersburg, Pennsylvania

Mosquitoes can be overcome by kerosene, they will
drop into cup held under them, or a cloth saturated
with it and hung on the head frame of the bed will
drive them away from the occupants of the bed.

MUD FOR A SPRAIN

By N. M. F.
Fredericton, New Brunswick, Canada

Apply a poultice of cold, wet earth to a sprain,
changing it often so that it may be kept cold. This
draws out the inflammation in a few hours and relieves
the pain. Then a few rubbings with alcohol or any
common liniment will make the joint as strong as ever.

102

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

SIMPLE REMEDIES

By LAURA E. KING

Hanford, California

I. — California cure for headache. Lay the head upon
a pillow and strew the pillow with fragrant roses.
Another cure for the same is to walk backwards.

II. — Lavender, when applied to face and hands, will
keep away mosqu^tos in this western land.

III. — For malaria, put lemon juice in all the water
you drink.

IV. — A tablespoonful of melted butter, swallowed,
will cure croup and hoarseness. Melt over a lamp
and take when necessary.

V. — For cancer, take violet leaves, ( the garden
variety is better than the wild violet) steep them in
water, drink the hot tea thus made ( a wine glassful
several times a day), — and also apply cotton wool
soaked in the hot tea, over the cancer/ -It-h.as cured
very bad cancers, and such a simple remedy ought to
be known and remembered.

LACE INSERTION

By A DRESSMAKER
Mrs. J. Billings, Springfield, Massachusetts

Now that so much lace is used I find many are puz-
zled about inserting it. Cut the material in the de-
sired shape, and baste the insertion firmly, just where
you would like it to be, turning corners neatly, and
where necessary to curve or round it, draw the little
cord in the edge or gather on a thread where it can be
easily shaped as desired, then stitch on the inner edge
of the narrow margin, after which slit the material in
the center of lace, turning back the edges, cutting down
to enough for a tiny hem, then stitch again on the
outer edge of the margin. On thin material use No.
200 cotton which is sufficiently strong for all purposes,
and will launder any number of times, with no frayed
edges.

For goods that are not to be washed the edge need
not be turned under for the second stitching, simply
turned back, stitched and cut down closely, leaving a
very neat appeal ance.

SWEETENING SOUR FRUITS

By MISS S. M. MOIR
Detroit, Michigan

Put a pinch of soda into rhubarb or other sour fruit
and only half the usual quantity of sugar will be
needed.

TO CLARIFY COFFEE

By A. B. De C.
Mt. Lake Park, Maryland

Instead of using the white of an egg to clarify coffee
drop a pinch of salt into the coffee pot before adding
the water and you will have clear, bright, well settled
coffee. This was learned from an old hotel keeper and
will not fail.

MENDING A LEAD PIPE LEAK

By H. M. MALLOY

Moorhead, Minnesota

How to stop a pin hole in a lead pipe :— Take a ten-
penny nail, place the square end upon the hole, and hit
it two or three light blows with the hammer, and the
orifice is closed as tight as though you had employed
a plumber to do it at a cost of a dollar or more.

A COTTAGE CHEESE HINT

By MRS. C. D. B.
Rockford, Illinois

In making cottage .cheese, sometimes after draining
the curds through a cheese cloth bag, the curds are
tough and lumpy. When such is the case, run them
through the food chopper and they will become light
and dedicate. Then add cream, salt and pepper, and
you will have a dainty dish. Sometimes I make tiny
balls and roll them in chopped nuts ; sometimes I add
pitted cherries and make a salad of it ; sometimes I
thin it with cream and add caraway seeds, and again I
add little onions.

A TRICK OF THE OVEN

MRS. ROSE SEELYE-MILLER
Ipswich, South Dakota

If you wish to bake something quickly in a range
with no fire started, get together a collection of fine
wood or chips, start your fire, and let the top lids of
the stove get very hot, put these in the oven on top of
the grate, put the thing to be baked upon these hot
lids and these will furnish bottom heat, while the quick
fire will almost at once furnish top heat. The baking
is very rapidly done with little heat in the house.

HOME-MADE PHOTO PASTE

By MRS. C. E. STANLEY
St. Louis, Missouri

Not many people know that the 'finest paste lor
mounting kodak pictures is made with ordinary
starch not cooked quite so much as for stiffening. I
know a photographer who mounts his most expensive
pictures this way.

TO KILL WEEDS

By E. PRONDZINSKI
St. Cloud, Minnesota

If one' will, when the dew is on, sprinkle a little fine
salt on the leaves of any plant he wiskes to kill he will
be both surprised and pleased at the result.

WASHING WHITE SILK

By MRS. A. B E.
DeWitt, Nebraska

In washing white silk use cold water to keep it from
turning yellow.

REMEDY FOR SEA SICKNESS

By LUCY MONTGOMERY
Cavendish, Prince Edward Island, Canada

Take bromide of soda, four drams, bromide of am-
monia two drams, pepperment water three ounces.
Mix well. Use for three days before journey begins.
It is not needed afterwards. Take a teaspoonful in
wine glass of cold water before each meal and also at
bedtime.

TENDER OMELETTES

By SARAH E. WILCOX
Madison, Ohio

A little boiling water added to an omelette as it
thickens will prevent it being tough.

THE HOME

103

HINTS FOR IRONING DAY

By MRS. A. P. WHITMAN
Tacoma, Washington

When ironing, if your flat irons do not heat fast
enough, try placing a dripping pan over them, and
they will get hot much quicker.

II.

By MRS. THOMAS DENHAM
Moosomin, Northwest Territory, Canada

In ironing, put all common towels, cloths, etc.,
through the wringer, set close. This mangles them
nicely.

A "NATIONAL" STRAWBERRY
STORY

By SUE E. SINDLE
Terre Haute, Illinois

In the Spring of 1004 our National Magazine called
attention to the free seed and plant distribution
carried on by the department of agriculture at Wash
ington.

Late in the season I wrote the department for straw-
berry plants. The supply was nearly exhausted but
they sent me fifteen plants of the Brandywine variety.
These reached me April 30, in good condition. I set
them out the same afternoon. May 15, 1 hoed them.
Two plants were dead. From the remaining thirteen
plants I picked one pint of nice berries the 3oth day of
May this year and had fresh berries every day from
May 30 to June 21.

Those thirteen plants made me a bed from which I
picked just thirty-five quarts of fine berries. The first
of the season berries sold here at twelve and one-half
cents per quart ; afterward at ten cents and then at
eight and one-third. Now don't you think my sub-
scription to the National was a good investment ? I
could write quite a story of financial helps by way of
the National if I was sure the publishers cared for it.

[Just what we do want. Let's hear from
other members of the National family
along this line. — The Editor.]

FOR LIGHT DUMPLINGS

By MRS. C. VAN BEE

Elgin, Illinois

To have dumplings in a stew perfectly light, they
should be laid on the meat and not dropped into the
broth. If there should not be meat enough, make a
foundation with potatoes. In mixing use just flour
enough so that thev can be handled nicely.

KITCHEN AND PANTRY HINTS

By HELEN M. HOBBS
Los Angeles, California

In making tomato soup the milk will not separate if
you pour the hot milk into the hot tomatoes— not the
tomatoes into the milk.

In heating milk that you are afraid will sour, do not
add any salt until after the milk has boiled. Salt helps
it to separate.

Try putting your dry groceries, such as beans, rice,
tapioca,— into glass jars. You can see in a glance what
you want and your pantry is thus free from mice and
bugs, as well as neat looking.

A PAN AND KETTLE HINT

By MRS. C. W. FISK
Shelton, Washington

Do not put pans and kettles partly filled with water
on the stove to soak, as it only makes them more diffi-
cult to clean. Fill them with cold water and soak
away from the heat.

WINTER HOUSING VEGETABLES

By H. P.

Canton, Ohio

Pumpkins should be kept in a dry part of the cellar,
apples in a moderately dry part; turnips should be
kept in a damp part of the cellar.

A FISH BONE IN HER THROAT

By C. S.
Springfield, Missouri

My mother got a fish bone in her throat. She
swallowed a raw, unbeaten egg and it carried down the
bone.

TO DRIVE AWAY FLIES

By MRS. I. S. R.
Mountain City, Tennessee

Take five cents worth of essence of lavender and mix
with the same quantity of water. Put the mixture in
a glass atomizer and spray it around the rooms. The
odor is especially disagreeable to flies.

NEW WORDS FOR THE LITTLE
FOLKS

By MISS MARTHA McCONNELL
Topekas, Kansa

During vacation children as a rule do very little
school work. A child may acquire a great number of
new words in this way. Let mother or some other
member of the family select new words from the reader
and after carefully writing and printing them on a
piece of cardboard about three by nine inches, tack it
up on the wall where the child will see it. He will
learn to recognize these words at sight and never know
that he has been studying. Two or three words a
week learned in this way will make a great improve-
ment in his reading in the Fall term of school.

A child's vocabulary may be increased by taking a
new word, perhaps a long one, and explaining its
meaning to the child. Use it yourself in a sentence,
then have him do so. In a week the word will be his.
In this way children may easily acquire a large number
01 words which will help them more clearly to express
their ideas and they will speak better English and use
fewer " slang phrases."

I think any mother would enjoy doing this and
watching her children " grow" mentally.

REMEDY FOR RHEUMATISM

By SALLIE T. PARRISH
Adel, Georgia

Dissolve one tablespoonful of saltpetre in a quart of
water and take a drink of the water — about one table-
spoonful — three times a day. I have tried this and
know it to be an excellent remedy for rheumatism.

104

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

CORN AND FELON CURES

By MRS. LENA A. RIPLEY
Poultney, Vermont

Baking soda dampened and spread on a thin cloth
and bound over a corn, will remove it.

A paste made of equal parts of saltpetre, brimstone
and lard, and bound about a felon will cure it. Renew
as soon as the poultice gets dry.

A NEST OF BOXES FOR CLIPPINGS

By "HAL"
Bridgeton, New Jersey

We household folks are used to a "nest of boxes" for
our spices, but have all tried a nest of boxes for clip-
pings ? In these days of magazines and newspapers
everybody makes a collection of clippings, and they
are valuable or not as we have them classified and
conveniently at hand.

Select eight or ten pasteboard boxes of uniform
size and color, such as can be obtained from dry goods
or furnishing stores. They should be oblong, about
five by ten inches, and if an inch or two deep will hold
quantities of clippings. Label them neatly as for in-
stance, " Recipes," '' Household Helps," " Menus,"
"Poetry," "Remedies," "Games," "Famous Persons,1'
etc.

The nest of boxes— one above the other— will fit
nicely into the corner of a lower shelf on the book case
where they are easily accessible when the various lists
of valuable information are wanted.

REMOVING A RUSTY SCREW

By MRS. H. C. EWALD
Louisville, Kentucky

To remove a rusty screw, hold a red hot iron to the
head of the screw for a short time and use the screw
driver while the screw is still hot.

WHITE SPOTS ON FURNITURE

By MRS. H. C. EWALD
Louisville, Kentucky

For white spots on highly polished furniture, apply
common baking soda, dampened. Allow it to remain
on the spots a short time, then rub firmly and the spots
will disappear.

DON'T PEEL PIE PLANT

By MRS. LILLIAN BENEDICT
Pomona, Tennessee

In cooking pie plant, do not peel it ; the red skin
gives a rich color to the sauce.

BOILED SWEET APPLES

By MRS. LILLIAN BENEDICT
Pomona, Tennessee

Place enough sweet apples side by side in a bright
milk pan to cover the bottom ; pour in about a pint of
water; sprinkle over half a cup of sugar; cover
with another pan and let them steam and boil until
tender. When about half done turn each one over;
when done, take up in a pretty dish, pour over the
svrup and set away to get cold. It is a great improve-
ment on the old baked sweet apple, and saves heating
up the oven.

WASHING CHINA SILK WAISTS
By F. J. I.
Toledo, Ohio

To wash black or white china silk waists to look as
good as new, use warm soft water. Make a suds of
Ivory or any good white soap. Wash carefully with
the hands, without rubbing. Do not put soap on the
goods. Wash through two waters, having the last
also a suds ; do not rinse. When partly dry, iron on
wrong side, with not too hot an iron.

PURIFYING A SOURED SPONGE
By L. A. P.

Westminster, Vermont

By rubbing a fresh lemon thoroughly into a soured
sponge and rinsing it several times, it will become as
sweet as a new one.

A HANGING BASKET

By SUSIE G. GALE

Worcester, Massachusetts

Do you know that one of the prettiest hanging
baskets imaginable can be made from a cocoa nut
shell? Select a large cocoa nut, — if practicable, one
shaped like a nutmeg. From the end containing the
eyes slice off a section about one-sixth the depth of
the nut. This leaves the edge of the basket curving
in a little, making it graceful in shape. Bore three
holes about three quarters of an inch from the edge
for the cord or little chains by which to suspend it, and
also a rather larger hole in the bottom for drainage.

GETTING PRUNES CLEAN

By MARY E. MENDUM
Dorchester, Massachusetts

A microscopic glance at the sticky coated fruit
might result in striking the prune from our bill of fare.
Cooked in the following way prunes will be absolutely
clean and delicate. Wash and put to cook in cold
water; let boil slowly for five minutes. Drain off this
water and with it will go all impurities. Add fresh
water and cook in a covered dish until tender. Sweeten
to taste.

MAKE HIM A PENCIL POCKET

By J. P. STEVENS
New Haven, Michigan

A little thing which the husband will greatly appreci-
ate is a narrow pencil pocket not over one inch wide
placed on inside of coat, cutting through the facing to
the right and a little above the inside breast pocket on
the left side of coat. It should be just wide enough
and deep enough to hold a pencil and fountain pen.
If the husband be a business man who often goes with-
out vest on hot days, he will wonder why he did not
have it long ago. I have one put in all my business
coats.

A CURE FOR HEADACHE

By H. H. TOMLINSON
Stepney Point, Connecticut

The juice of half a lemon in a cup of strong coffee
without cream or sugar will relieve the worst headache.

FUTURE OF THE NEGRO IN AMERICA

WILL THE RACE BECOME EXTINCT?

By John P. Heap

WASHINGTON, DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA

THIS article will be confined to a dis-
cussion of the question as it applies
to the negro in the United States, with-
out reference to his probable future in
Africa or other countries.

At the risk of being tiresome I will
restate a few well known facts.

During slavery the negro, generally
speaking, (there always being exceptions
to any general rule) was well supplied
with wholesome food, was usually re-
quired to keep reasonably regular hours
as to eating and sleeping, and in case of
sickness was provided with medicines
suitable to his ailment. The pecuniary in-
terest of the master, if nothing else,
prompted him to see that his slaves were
well taken care of, they representing
his wealth. Also the propagation of the
species, if not positively encouraged,
was certainly not discouraged, each in-
crease representing certain value. The
work he had to perform, while laborious
in a sense, was not, generally speaking,
unhealthy; his life was free from care,
worry and responsibility, and he was in
a large degree free from the usual de-
basing habits and vices common to the
laboring classes among the free people
in the large cities.

This manner of living and working
had a tendency to produce, and did pro-
duce, strong, hearty males, or "bucks",
as they were called, and the females or
"wenches," living a free outdoor life,
and not having their bodies cramped or
deformed by tight lacing or other de-
crees of fashion, and not being worried
by the question of how to provide for
their offspring, were inclined to be pro-
lific. This, then, was the condition of
the negro at the beginning of the Rebel-
lion, which was to have such a far reach-
ing effect upon the future of the race.

At the close of the war, the negro,
finding himself free from all restraint,
and not realizing or appreciating the
responsibilities of his condition or the
results of his conduct, seemed, for a num-
ber of years, to have made it the busi-
ness of his life to live up to the scrip-
tural injunction to "multiply and replen-
ish the earth." So rapid and alarming
was the increase in the negro population
for the succeeding twenty or thirty years
that the negro question became a "prob-
lem" indeed. Those superficial students
of economics who deal in percentages
only could easily figure out and demon-
strate, to their own satisfaction at least,
that it was only a question of a few years
when the black man would overrun the
country and displace the white man by
sheer force of numbers.

Contrasting his condition today with
that at the close of his period of slavery,
or even with his condition ten or fifteen
years ago, and what do we find? He
now sleeps where he can, eats what he
can get, and when he can get it. He is
not governed by any laws or rules per-
taining to sanitation, or health, and by
reason of his poverty, and in obedience
to his common instincts, he crowds into
the cities and there lives in the most
crowded and unhealthy sections, is given
over to indulgences, licentiousness and
crime.

Instead of being encouraged to in-
crease the size of his family, the ten-
dency is constantly the other way, every
addition being looked upon, if not by
himself, at least by his white neighbors,
as more or less a calamity. As he be-
comes educated and gets more and more
into the ways of the white people, he be-
comes less and less productive of his
species, and, though the birth rate is

io6

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

constantly being lowered, his manner of
living in crowded, dirty, illy ventilated
and poorly heated quarters, his conse-
quent tendency to crime and disease, the
death rate is getting higher, the death
rate among negro children, especially in
the larger cities, being something hor-
rible to contemplate. In Washington
City for the year 1902, there were 715
deaths among colored children under
one year old, or at the rate of 458.3 per
1,000 colored population under one year
of age. As there were born during that
year 1,846 colored children, it seems
that nearly forty per cent of them died
before they arrived at the age of one
year. The death rate, all ages, in the
large cities having any considerable pro-
portion of negroes, is about fifty per cent
higher among the negroes than among
the whites. That is to say, in cities
where the death rate among the whites
is twenty per thousand, that among
the negroes runs about thirty per thou-
sand.

According to the actual statistics for
the year 1900, based on the census for
that year, the mortality in four of the
cities having the largest negro population
was as follows:

Cities White Colored Mortality per 1000 Population
Population Population White Colored

Wash. 192,016 86,702

Baltimore 429,639 79,258

Phila. 1,231,084 62,913

Now York 3,376,536 60,666

19. 31.2

19.1 31.8
20.7 31.8

20.2 32.5

Other cities having a large negro pop-
ulation where statistics have been prop-
erly kept show about the same proportion.

I might add that the annual report of
Dr. Woodward, health officer of Wash-
ington, for the calendar year 1902, shows
the death rate to be: white, 15.92; col-
ored, 29.13.

It is also noticeable that, according
to the census of 1900, the death rate
among the negroes far exceeded the birth
rate for that year in all large cities. Out
of fifty-six cities reported in all parts of
the country, North, South, East and

West, the death rate among negroes is
found to be greater than the birth rate
in fifty cities. The record of a few cities
will suffice to illustrate this condition.
In Boston there were 240 births and 327
deaths, making an excess of Deaths of
eighty-seven. In Greater New York
there were 1,430 births and 1,970 deaths,
an excess of 290 deaths. In St. Louis
there were 954 births and 1,155 deaths,
making an excess of deaths of 561. In
New Orleans there were 1,735 births and
3,310 deaths, making an excess of 1,575
deaths. In Washington there were 2,003
births and 2,704 deaths, an excess of 701
deaths. Other cities show about the
same condition. For the calendar year
1902, according to the report of Dr.
Woodward, above quoted, there were
in the city of Washington 1,846 births
and 2,596 deaths among negroes, or 750
more deaths than births.

These conditions are constantly grow-
ing worse instead of better, it being a
well known fact that the negro will do
nothing of his own motion to better his
condition; and the intense natural
hatred that exists (and which I believe
is increasing) between the races pre-
vents the whites from taking any serious
interest in his welfare.

All this results in the deterioration and
weakening of the race, which will finally
end in its extinction. There is no such
thing as the blood of the race being im-
proved by the intermixture of other
races, as no race will mix with it. Most
of the states have laws prohibiting ne-
groes marrying whites, and while it was
no uncommon thing in slavery times
for negro women to have children by
white men, such occurrence is now ex-
ceedingly rare.

There is yet another influence that is
doing much 'to hasten the final extinc-
tion of the race, and to which we might
well apply the doctrine of the "survival
of the fittest," and that is the tendency
to keep the negro out of the professions
and skilled trades, and make him sim-

FUTURE OF THE NEGRO IN AMERICA

107

ply a burden bearer, 'a "hewer of wood
and drawer of water." He is being con-
stantly and continually crowded to the
wall, and held there by pressure from all
sides. He is a veritable Ishmaelite, in
that, while his hand may not be against
every man, "every man's hand is against
him." No race has ever yet been able
to hold its own against such pressure,
and the negro will not be able to do so.

It is rapidly coming to that point where
a negro cannot get work, or hold a posi-
tion once obtained, if that work or posi-
tion is wanted by a white man. He is
being kept out of the trades. Few of
the various trades unions will allow him
to affiliate with them. Even the Feder-
ation of Women's Clubs at its meeting
at San Francisco last year refused to
"federate" with the colored women's
clubs.

Education will not avail him when it
comes to working at skilled labor or
practicing the professions. He can
act as hod carrier, plumber's or tinner's
helper, but no matter how well educated
or skillful he may be, he cannot hope to
become a master mason, plumber or
tinner.

Outside of the city of Washington, the
conditions pertaining to the negro are
abnormal, I know of but one licensed
negro plumber, and he told me a few
years ago that he had a harder time each
year to get his license renewed; and I
have no doubt that by this time the
powers that be have refused to renew it
on some flimsy pretext, the real reason
being his black skin. I know of no
white man who would employ him to do
his plumbing, except in the capacity of
a helper, and as there is practically
no such work to be done for the ne-
groes he Vill soon have to starve, if he
has not already done so, or go to work
as a helper for some white plumber.
This notwithstanding the fact that
the particular plumber alluded to was
more skillful in his trade, and a better
workman than many a white man who

holds a license as a master plumber.

White men are taking the place of ne-
groes as barbers and bootblacks. It is-
becoming more common every day to
see boot blacking stands and barber shops
owned by white men who have negro
helpers. Even the helpers' places will
be taken by the whites as competition
becomes fiercer and -work harder to get.

Italians and other foreigners come
over to this country and open cobbler
shops for mending shoes and succeed
while the negro next door, doing equally
as good work, starves, for the reason that
white people, and negroes who have the
means to pay for the work, will patronize
the Italian in preference to the negro.

Negro lawyers, physicians and dentists
must practice among their own people.

No white man would think of employ-
ing a negro lawyer to plead his cause be-
fore a court or jury, nor employ a negro
doctor in case of sickness, or a negro
dentist to work on his teeth. On the
other hand few negroes will employ ne-
gro lawyers, much preferring white men,
and would seldom call in a negro M. D.
but for the fact that few white doctors
will attend negro patients except as a
matter of humanity. No white dentist
will do dental work for negroes, except
possibly now and then pull an aching
tooth to relieve suffering; and if his
white clients get to thinking he takes
negro work they will quickly desert him.
All this tendency of white physicians
and dentists not to minister to the black
man naturally makes it difficult for him
to get timely and proper attention, and
shortens average life.

Negro teachers can only be employed
to teach their own race, as no school
director would dream of employing a
black teacher for white children.

Many causes conspire to shorten the
average life of the negro. If a sewer is
to be opened or other unhealthy or dan-
gerous work to be performed, the negro
gets the job. His life is held cheap. If
a riot' occurs where negroes and whites

io8

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

are engaged, the usual result is five ne-
groes killed and as many more wounded
to one white man killed, or in about that
proportion. The killing of a negro by
a white man is seldom punished, or if at
all only lightly. The hot end of the
poker is always toward him.

The average life of the negro is much
shorter than that 6f the whites. In
Washington for the year 1902 (Dr.
Woodward's report) the average age at
death was: white, forty-one years, one
month and ten days; colored, twenty-six
years, five months and twenty-nine days.

The point I make is this: as the ne-
groes are crowded together, either by

flocking to the cities or the rural districts
and small towns, through the working
together of the influences alluded to in
this article, the birth rate will decrease
and the death rate increase, so that there
will come a time, and that not very far
distant, when the latter will exceed the
former and the race will rapidly decrease,
the race problem cease to be a problem
and then will come extinction. This
will as certainly occur as it has occurred
to the North American Indian, and the
natives of the Sandwich islands, the ne-
gro not being able to stand civilization
any better than the Indian or the
islander.

OCTOBER DAYS

By Henry Walter Graham

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

IN robes of airy purple,
The distant hills are clad,
And Autumn's horn of plenty

The husbandman makes glad.
The corn fields are rejoicing

In treasures yet untold;
The orchard boughs are bending

'Neath wealth of red and gold.
The shepherd winds are driving

White flocks across the skies;
The vine's rich interlacings

Are clad in Tyrean dyes,
The chestnut's dropping largess

The busy squirrels claim;
Adown the vale the sumac

Holds up its torch of flame.
The jaunty jay is jeering

Atop the locust tree, —
A cynic fop in feathers, —

Disdaining minstrelsy;
The crafty crow, slow winging

His lazy flight along,
Reviles the woodland chorus

With critic croaks at song.
The graceful maple trembles,

Ablush with maiden shame, —
The Frost King rudely kissed her,

Her cheeks are all aflame.

The stately elm is crested

With plumes of fairy gold;
The vine's rich, luscious clusters

"Imprisoned sunshine" hold.
The ivy, gently clinging,

Has caught the gnarled oak,
His ragged scars concealing

Beneath her crimson cloak.
, The birch, arrayed in tatters

'Mid this rich brotherhood,
Clings to his wasting treasures —

The miser of the wood.
The thrifty bees hold revel

Upon the goldenrod ;
To zephyrs, gently waving

The purple asters nod;
The brooklet's fairy island

Holds beauty's sweet surprise, —
There violets, in secret,

Are painting Summer skies.
Queen Autumn's brows are flushing

With warmth of amber wine,
Her dreamy eyes are closing, —

Oh time most rare, divine!
Now smiling, sun crowned Summer

Returns with glad surprise, —
Softly she comes, on tiptoe,

To say her last goodbyes.

)

Text and Illustration by

Louise Lewin Matthews

HYDE PARK MASSACHUSETTS

[WEET is the way through the fields to the old wall

by the lane,

Where berry vines are growing, kissed by the gentle
rain.

Over the stones they clamber, some red, some black

and sweet,
All purpling in the sunshine beneath the Summer heat.

Where hay fields lie a-dreaming and wild flowers

bloom and nod,
The richest berries cluster behind the goldenrod.

Dear Nature, all your seasons add largess to our dower;
Grateful for all, we thank you most for this, the
children's hour.

*«T> COMMENT

By Frank Putnam

T. R., HIS CRITICS AND SOME OTHERS

THE RAILWAY CRITIC, in its
August number; remarks editorially
that —

Better lawyers than Mr. Roosevelt
find ample grounds for action against
Paul Morton and other Santa Fe offi-
cials. Their motives are known to be
disinterested and above suspicion. But
Mr. Roosevelt, with executive, not with
judiciary powers, declares his friend Mr.
Morton innocent and prevents the courts
from hearing his case. The coddling of
Mr. Loomis was an unfortunate mistake,
but the protection of Mr. Paul Morton
takes on some of the aspects of a na-
tional scandal.

In every railroad headquarters in the
country there will be rejoicing. To
save Paul Morton from the necessity of
declaring himself Mr. Roosevelt has
practically issued a general amnesty to
all railroad law breakers. Personal guilt
is abolished. Only corporations can sin,
and for them the penalty is a trifling
fine. In order that Mr. Paul Morton
may go free the statute is made a dead
letter.

From which it would appear that not
even the railway interests are unani-
mous in favor of the suspension of
statute law by executive edict at the
pleasure of the president.

T. R. has come in for some hard raps
of late. His critics say he should have
prosecuted Paul Morton, instead of
praising him; that Bowen, who blabbed
and got kicked out of the diplomatic
service, was not more at fault than
Loomis, who dabbled in claims against

the nation to which he had been sent
as our envoy, and who got a special
mission to France along with a mild
admonitory hint from Taft. The critics
say T. R. talks too much. They inti-
mate a belief on his part that we elected
him pope, not president. They say he
wronged Wallace, charging that the ex-
chief of canal diggers quit for more
money, when in fact (his friends say
in his defense) he quit because red
tape tied his hands so that he couldn't
dig, or not with any peace of mind.
They say T. R. is backing and filling
with regard to railway rate fixing. They
say he is merely bluffing about "bust-
ing" the Beef Trust — and by way of
proving the truth of their assertion they
cite the fact that he is still using Gar-
field, whose infantile report upon the
Beef Trust filled the country with
mingled amusement, disgust and wrath.
Summed up, the charges amount to
a general indictment for lack of steadi-
ness, reserve and consideration for fel-
low servants of the public.

I am very fond of T. R. He is a
big, impulsive, warm hearted, full
blooded, open faced, hard fisted fight-
ing man. He is fully as wise and good
as the average of American citizenship
— and that is something I could not say
of most public men at Washington. He
is, in brief, a whole man with the bark
on. In some of the cases cited above,
I agree with his critics, and I think it

NOTE AND COMMENT

is a good thing that the press is react-
ing from the semi-idolatrous praise it
gave him for some time past. Such
unstinted adulation is not good for any
public servant. It did not seem to feaze
T. R., though it may have made him a
bit more heady than usual. But he is
game, and will take his little dressing
down without a murmur. Moreover, his
critics will never get a chance to damn
him for doing anything in the tainted
money line. When we have the specta-
cle of two United States senators con-
victed of illegal practices that constitu-
ted a gross but probably not uncommon
betrayal of their oaths of office, and a
third hopelessly smirched by Equitable
revelations, with a lot more big men
dwelling under the grave and growing
suspicion that they hold public and
semi-public office as a means of pri-
vate graft rather than of patriotic ser-
vice, it is worth while to be able to
point to our busy young president
and say, with swelling chest, "Well,
he may blunder occasionally — I admit
that he does; but, by heaven! his hands
are clean!"

He keeps everlastingly at his job. He
certainly was not bluffing when he
praised the strenuous life. If I were
tainted with any vulgar desire to become
rich in mere money, I should instantly
set up a factory at Battle Creek, Michi-
gan, for the manufacture of a new break-
fast food to be named "Teddine." Any-
body so tainted is welcome to the sug-
gestion.

It is early to begin speculating upon
what the president will do when his term
of office ends, but the following, from
the Boston Transcript, is worth reading
and making a note of:

Certain of President Roosevelt's
qualifications for his high office were
duplicated most closely by John Quincy
Adams of all his predecessors. Adams
from youth prepared for a civic career ;

he had an affluent and cultured environ-
ment ; he knew history and literature ;
and he had the academic stamp of Har-
vard university, and for a time was a
professor there. To a degree not
equalled in the earlier history of the
country and not duplicated until the
present administration, he was "the
scholar in politics."

In diplomatic experience prior to as-
suming the duties of secretary of state,
which he filled with consummate ability,
he was preeminent among all who have
filled that post, not even Mr. Hay hav-
ing had any such training as Adams had
at the courts of the Netherlands, Prus-
sia, Russia and England.

With the new definition of the Mon-
roe Doctrine and the increase of our
power and responsibility in the states of
Central and South America, which the
last decade has brought, Adam's pater-
nity of what has usually been credited to
Monroe has been made clearer, and his
foresight and courage as a statesman
have been recognized more adequately,
though there is chance for a very much
wider and truer apprehension of his
merits by his countrymen.

He deserves more study also because
of his example as an ex-president. We
wonder what Mr. Roosevelt will do when
his term of office is over, and he a com-
paratively young man. It is suggested
that he become president of Harvard
university or mayor of New York city.
It is far more likely that he will do as
Mr. Adams did than that he will settle
down to private life, as Mr. Cleveland
has in Princeton, New Jersey. Mr.
Adams, when defeated for a second
term by Jackson, thought it not beneath
him to enter congress from Massachu-
setts, and from 1831 to 1848 he served
his native state and the nation with a
wisdom which was the fruit of his ex-
perience as chief magistrate, as well as
of his native talent and culture.

The most glorious chapter of his per-
sonal history was his defence while in
congress of the rights of petition and
free speech, and his sturdy champion-
ship of the Abolitionists, whose radical-
ism was so unlike the Whig opportunism
of Adams' party supporters.

Mr. Roosevelt, as senator from New
York state, might give the Empire
State a standing in the senate which it
cannot have as at present represented,
and might aid in carrying into effect
policies which in the very nature of the

112

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for OCTOBER, 1905

case he can only initiate, not complete,
during the single term of office to which
he is pledged.

It delights me to think of how T. R.
must be looked up to by the Indians,
whose conception of the presidency is
expressed in the phrase they apply to
the occupant of that office, i. e., "The
Great Father." For he comes as near
being a "great father," officially, to all
sorts and conditions of people, as any
man who ever sat in the White House.
At 9 a. m. he offers a word of good
advice to the negro; at ten, he warns
the bad little Beef Trust boys that they
must toe the mark or take the dire con-
sequences; at eleven, he writes a pre-
face for a book on birds, or bears; at
noon, he calls a halt in a war between
two great powers and gets them to send
men here to talk peace terms; at one, he
eats goulash with the Hungarians of
New York City, and actually likes it
fully as well as he says he does; at two,
he gives a piece of straight talk to col-
lege men and boys on honest sport; at
three, he fraternizes with the temperance
folk, and tells his friends, the Pennsyl-
vania miners, that booze breeds more
misery than breakfast food — or words
to that effect; and so on through a
day concluded by reviewing with dis-
criminative art an obscure but beauti-
ful poem, his praise whereof reveals
unsuspected springs of Norse mystery
and Berserk sadness in his own spirit.

When I told Paul, one morning, that
I was going to Washington to call on
the poet "Ironquill," Paul said :

"Be sure to go up and see President
Roosevelt. He's great!"

I was curious to learn how Paul came
to take such an unexpected interest in
a public man — keeping in mind the num-
ber and variety of his other interests as
a lively ten year old boy. He explained:

"I've just been reading his 'Ranch
Life and Hunting Trail,' and say, he's

a corker!"

Captain Loeffler let me into the ante-
room and gave me a seat in line with
the door opening into the president's
private office. I should say the ante-
room is twenty feet wide. At my right was
a lean and genial priest from the Roman
Catholic university. Over in the far
corner a group of negro bishops — fat
and shiny and eager and all smiles. I
got into conversation with the Roman,
who told me, in answer to a sincere but
possibly undiplomatic inquiry, that his
school had quit teaching hellfire as an
article of faith, and enlightened me
pleasufably upon a number of things in
that line. I was watching his forefingers
forming the long sides of an acute angle
in the air before his jolly face, and tak-
ing in his gay comment, when of a sud-
den the door of the executive chamber
swung open with a bang, and before I
could get squared around in my chair,
or out of it, T. R., with a motion some-
thing like a cross between the gaits of
a grizzly bear and a panther, was across
the room and had my baseball fingers
wrapped in the tightest grip they ever
knew. As they say in the prize ring, he
didn't give me time to get set, where-
fore, the little handful of conversational
nuggets I had panned out for him never
got delivered. All that I could think of
to tell him was that, in common with my
folks out West, I was entirely satisfied
with the way he was running things. He
expressed his appreciation in a grin that
was half a laugh and told me he was glad
to hear it. I bade him good morning,
but before I got through the door I saw
him pumping the right hand of my
friend the priest, heard him tell that
gentleman to come inside presently and
saw him make what it is not, I trust, im-
proper to designate as a running jump
at the six black bishops over in the far
corner.

When I got outside, in the road, I
said to myself, "Good Lord! If we
democrats only had a man like thatl"

HIGGINS AVENUE, LOOKING SOUTH: TWENTYFOURTH UNITED STATES INFANTRY

BAND IN FOREGROUND
Photograph by E. F, Woodman of the Anaconda Standard

MISSOULA COUNTY AND CITY, MONTANA

r\RIGINALLY this county embraced
nearly all that portion of Montana
lying west of the Rocky Mountains, but
in 1893 both the northern and southern
extremities were taken away, leaving
6,385 square miles of the 17,575 em-
braced within the earlier boundaries to
make up the present county. With its
diversified wealth and almost limitless
resources, this vast territory is indeed
an empire, rich in gold, silver and baser
metals and boundless forests, together
with rich, productive soil to delight the
farmer and fruit grower. Nature has
also provided a most delightful climate
and grand scenery, and all these advan-
tages have drawn together an energetic,
progressive class of citizens devoted to
their locality and enthusiastic over its
possibilities.
Missoula is indeed the garden spot of

Montana, reveling in fruits and flowers,
magnificent trees and balmy atmosphere,
abundantly watered, and with mountain
and plain vicing in their efforts to re-
ward intelligent industry, it is a source
of perpetual delight to all, and the just
pride of every Montanan.

Including mining claims amounting to
10,925 acres, the number of acres of
land assessed is 1,241,981 and the extent
and value of the various groups is: first
class grain land, 11,139 acres valued at
5301,305; second class, 20,354 acres at
$193,371. First and second class hay
land, 9,592 acres at $113,711; grazing
land, 123,676 acres at $229,431; timber
land, 618,807 acres at $1,695,637, and
455,535 acres of railroad land at $986,-
194. Improvements on these are placed
at $432,882, and city and town lots are
•assessed at $1,081,316, with improve-

MISSOULA COUNTY AND CITY, MONTANA

SOUTH SIDE MISSOULA RESIDENCE

ments at £1,230,985. Live stock
valuations total $492, 214, made up
of 4,989 horses at $122,022; 18,614
cattle at $319,573; 9>564 sheep at
$19,128; i",473 hogs at $7,387; 272
Angora goats at $1,104, and 230 buf-
faloes at $100 each.

One of the most important industries
of Missoula county is lumbering, which
has here reached its highest develop-
ment. Many of Butte's famous mines
have millions of feet of Missoula timber
on their various levels, while of late
years the product of the mills has found
its way into markets east of the Missis-
sippi. So important has this new trade
become that it is announced for the com-
ing year that the sawing season will be
extended to include the entire twelve
months.

Other products of this industry include
sash, doors and finishings, office furni-
ture and boxes, including fruit and pack-

ing cases which are turned out at the
rate of a carload a day. Some of the
mills are of the portable kind, being
moved to the holding of the owners as
cuttings are finished, the lumber being
generally sold to the larger companies.
Others are splendid, modern plants with
steam feed, double band saws, one cut-
ting 225,000 feet a day.

The largest company has cut 35,000,-
ooo feet of logs, which are brought to
the river by train and floated to the mill,
a distance of twelve miles. The rail-
road is a private one, entirely in the
timber country and sixteen miles in
length. There are also extensive opera-
tions on the Coeur d'Alene branch of
the Northern Pacific railway with two

NORTH SIDE MISSOULA RESIDENCE

WIDE, WELL SHADED RESIDENCE STREET

very large mills at St. Regis and Lothrop.

Other industries are the flour mills,
brick yards, brewery, foundry, cigar fac-
tories and the machine and repair shops
for the railroad, employing several hun-
dred men.

Although but imperfectly developed,
the agricultural interests of Missoula are
highly important. But little of the land
in the immediate vicinity of the city is
under cultivation, owing to the absence
of any adequate system of irrigation.
Plans have been prepared to remedy
this condition, and it is expected that
1906 will see a large area of fine soil
under water. The northern end of the
Bitter Root valley is still in Missoula

MISSOULA COUNTY AND CITY, MONTANA

county and contains some highly culti-
vated farms and grand orchards. Or-
chard Homes and the Rattlesnake dis-
trict are two farming localities produc-
ing everything in the way of garden
truck, including sweet corn, tomatoes?
celery and strawberries. River bottoms
about Grass Valley and Frenchtown are
cropped to wheat, oats and hay, and the
bench lands are also being brought in.
Since irrigation has wrought such
wonderful changes, diversified farming
has gained a prominent place among the
various pursuits. Time was when the
big ranches, with thousands of head of
cattle, sheep and other live stock roam-
ing upon them, were considered the
thing. But conditions are entirely dif-

tion has also been highly instrumental in
advancing agricultural and horticultural
interests, and the prospective opening of
the Flathead reservation will bring a
large number of people, many of whom
will become residents.

Missoula, the county seat, has a
population conservatively estimated at
10,000 and during the past five or six
years has had a wonderful growth. It is
a division point on the Northern Pacific
with two branch lines, the Bitter Root
and the Coeur d'Alene, making an
enormous freight traffic. The city is
a noted ' educational center, having the
University of Montana, four large ward
schools, and a high school just com-
pleted which cost $36,000, beside the

PANORAMIC VIEW OF THE STATE UNIVERSITY OF MONTANA, AT MISSOULA

ferent now. There is a natural inclina-
tion upon the part of the old timers as
well as the new comers to depart from
the early methods, break their large
tracts into small ones and convert them
into crop producing fields.

There is also a great farming area on
the Flathead Indian reservation tribu-
tary to Missoula which will become part
of the county in a short time.

In every settled part of the county may
be found the fruit trees whose products
have done so much to call attention to
the possibilities of Missoula, exhibitions
of it amazing even the citizens of other
portions of the state.

An enterprising County Fair associa-

Commercial Business college just
erected at a cost of $20,000. The lat-
'ter building is of white brick and very
attractive.

Missoula has a daily and several
weekly papers and a new Carnegie
library.

The county is divided into forty-five
school districts and has fifty-seven school
buildings valued at $162,000.

The banks report capital stock of
$350,000; surplus and profits, $100,000;
deposits, $1,601,460; loans and dis-
counts, $1,305,280, and cash and ex-
changes, $675,620.

In no city in the state is there
less contagion than in Missoula. At an

altitude of 3,200 feet, in the heart of a
mountainous country, the atmosphere is
pure, containing an abundance of oxy-
gen. Malaria is unheard of here, and
people find the place a haven for the
treatment of many of the diseases so
common in other sections.

Much has been said and written of
Missoula, the rapidly growing metro-
polis of western Montana, but justice
has hardly been done the reality. Cosily
situated at the very foot of the western

Its people are hospitable; its stand-
ards of culture are of the highest. It is
the home of the state university, of
academies and colleges. It has fine
clubs, social and musical organizations.
Most all of the religious denominations
are represented, having adequate places
of worship.

It is the distributing point for all of
western Montana: the Bitter Root valley
to the south, the great Flathead Reserva-
tion to the north, the rich mineral sec-

MOUTH OF A MINING SHAFT

slope of the main range of the Rocky
Mountains, it is the natural gateway to
a vast area of timber and agricultural
lands to the west, while on the east are
the immensely rich mineral deposits for
which the state has become celebrated.
Nature has so designated it that the city
itself, so far as location, topography of
surrounding country, scenic beauty and
wealth of diversified industrial pursuits
are concerned, stands preeminently
above most cities of the West.

tion of the Couer d'Alenes west to Wal-
lace, Idaho; and the tributary Big Black-
foot and Clinton districts north and east

It has fine business blocks, wholesale
houses and retail stores that would
reflect credit upon a city twice her size,
complete sewage and water systems,
a fine paid fire department, efficient
police force, and all the other adjuncts
of a well regulated city.

In short, Missoula has the best pros-
pects of any city in the West.

THE GREAT FALLS OF THE MISSOURI RIVER AT GREAT FALLS, MONTANA
Photograph by the Elite Studio, Great Falls, Montana

GREAT FALLS, MONTANA

By W. A. Remington

Secretary of the Commercial Club

MONTANA from a car window does
not exhibit its great agricultural
areas nor its mineral resources. Those
high benches are producing great crops
of grain; the rich valleys and fertile low-
lands are gradually being tilled as the
number of settlers increases, and the
rugged and broken sections are continu-
ally unfolding their hidden wealth. For-
tune today smiles on the agriculturalist
as she has for years on the miner.

In the midst of a great section of this
state that is particularly rich in both
agricultural and mineral resources, Great
Falls is admirably located. The falls
of the Missouri at this city, in which
Lewis and Clark were specially inter-
ested in 1805, and which are today ob-

jects of great interest to visitors, possess
a vast industrial value. Within a dis-
tance of seven miles the river descends
over a series of falls and cascades 535
feet. When fully developed, these falls
will produce more than 300,000 horse
power. At the present time the copper
smelting works of the B. and M. com-
pany use power from this river, as well
as the flour mills and other indus-
tries of the city, but only a small frac-
tion of the power is being used.

It is the cheapness of this power
and its favorable location that enables
the B. and M. company to ship its
ore a distance of nearly two hundred
miles and smelt it, a considerable per-
centage cheaper than it could at the

GREAT FALLS, MONTANA

VIEW FROM GREAT NORTHERN RAILWAY
STATION, GREAT FALLS

mines. Last year this company pro-
duced metals to the value of about
fifteen million dollars. It is also note-
worthy that the cost of developing the
power of these falls, not only what is
now being used but what can be de-
veloped, is extremely low as compared
with the water power of Niagara, Hoi-
yoke" or any of the well known power
plants of the East.

About these falls will ultimately be
located many mammoth industrial plants,
and it is not improbable that the milling
center of this country will at no very
distant day jump from Minneapolis to
Great Falls, as it moved but a compara-
tively few years ago from the falls of
the Genesee to the falls of St. Anthony.
The grain fields of the Northwest are in
the near future to furnish the bread of
the country, and even now wheat is

CASCADE COUNTY COURT HOUSE

being brought across the border from
the Canadian fields. Great Falls is the
center of a larger area susceptible of
irrigation than any city of this or any
other land. One million acres is not
too large a figure at which to place the
estimate. One large enterpise near
Conrad that will irrigate an immense
tract is nearly completed, water having
been turned into the main canal several
weeks ago. The Sun river project of
the government will add 350,000 acres of
irrigated land. To the north of us is
the Milk river project; to the east the
Glendive, and to the south the Huntley,
beside many smaller enterprises built
by private capital.

To the crops that will be produced
on these irrigated areas there is to be
added what is raised on the lands that
receive a sufficient amount of rainfall
to produce good crops, and these lands
are of large extent. To the southeast
of Great Falls is an area as large as the
state of Ohio, untouched by a railroad,
and yet it is the best agricultural section
of the state. The rainfall is sufficient
for growing all kinds of grain; the soil
is extremely fertile, and the conditions
are in every way favorable to the farmer.
When railroad facilities are added to
this section its settlement will be rapid,
and it will supply an enormous
amount of grain to the mills at Great
Falls.

Cascade County, of which Great Falls
is the county seat, produces more than
one-half of the coal mined in the state,
One million tons of a good quality of
bituminous coal is annually taken from
the mines of this county. The towns of
Belt, Stockett and Sand Coulee are coal
towns, and are up a few miles from this
city. Coal underelies a large part of
the county, but at these towns outcrops,
and, the measures being horizontal, is
easily mined. The Grent Northern rail-
road, the Amalgamated company and
other large corporations of the state use
the coal from these mines, and the coal is

GREAT FALLS, MONTANA

also shipped east and west throughout
,the state and to neighboring states.

Great Falls is also the headquarters
for the various mining companies work-
ing the silver-lead mines of the Little
Belt mountains and the gold and silver
mines of the neighboring districts. The
product of these mines amounts to mil-
lions annually. Another valuable re-
source of the city and county is the
extensive deposit of iron ore. The leads
of red and brown hematite ore run from
fifty-eight to sixty-eight per cent, of
metallic iron. While all the essentials
of steel making are found adjacent to
this city, such as lime, silica, coal, iron
ore, etc., the moment for starting a steel
making plant has not arrived. The
making of mining and mill machinery,
cast iron water pipe for the cities of
the state, etc., is, however, one of the
important industries of the city.

The mines and smelters of the county
make a home market for all the farmers
can raise and much more than can be
grown. The price of land is low, the
country has been little advertised and
therefore is settled slowly. The wave of
immigration from the East has reached
the eastern confines of the state, and as
it rolls over the state, as it is bound to
do in a very short time, the price of land
will double and treble. That the farm-
ers of this section are prosperous is
shown by the construction of rural tele-
phone lines, the erection of cooperative
creameries that are proving very suc-
cessful, etc. Fruit is also successfully
grown in this county. About the homes
in this city it is a frequent sight to see
apple trees bending under their load of
fruit.

As a wool market Great Falls attracts
buyers from nearly every, commission
house in the East. For the past ten
years an average between eight and ten
million pounds of wool have been sold
on this market each year. Beef, mutton
and horses are shipped in large quanti-
ties to the eastern markets. The bank-

HANDSOME PUBLIC LIBRARY, THE GIFT OF

ANDREW CARNEGIE

ing and commercial advantages of the
city attract business from the entire
northern and eastern central part of the
state. With the increase in railroad
facilities, and particularly in the eastern
and southeastern parts of the state, this
business will greatly increase.

The city itself has been admirably
laid out and possesses an abundant
water supply, good schools, electric rail-
ways, lights, sewers and other modern
conveniences. There are fine public
buildings, beautifully shaded avenues,
handsome parks and lawns, and it is
considered the most beautiful city in the
northern Rocky Mountain states. It has
every requirement to make it a city of
homes. Its schools are maintained at
a high standard. Sixty-three teachers
are employed, and the high school is on
the accredited list of most of the eastern

VIEW OK FOURTH AVENUE, NORTH

GREAT FALLS, MONTANA

THE FAMOUS "GREAT SPRING"

colleges. The water works are owned
by the city and there are thirty-one
miles of cast iron main laid in the city.
The city has 400 acres of park lands, of
which 100 acres are improved and which
add greatly to the attractiveness of the
city. The parks are under the control
of a local park board appointed by the
governor of the state. This board has
in connection with the parks an exten-
sive nursery for growing ornamental
shrubs and trees. So successful have
they been that they have sold large num-
bers for use in other parts of the city.

The city has eleven miles of boule-
varded avenues, and new ones are being
laid out. The drives through Riverside
park, which has a river frontage of
nearly a mile, and the drives of Gibson
park, together with these improved
avenues, make this one of the attractive
features of the city. The city also owns
220 acres just outside the city limits
having a frontage on Sun river of a mile
and a half. This land is naturally beauti-
fully located and in its wild state has a
charm as a picnic and pleasure ground
that cannot be increased by artificial
means.

The climate of this city is to the new
comer a revelation. He has associated
Montana with the frozen north, but finds

that the climate is far milder than that
of the eastern states. Located in a great
basin on the eastern slope of the Rocky
mountains, the climate is tempered by
the warm winds that come out of the
Southwest. These give to this section
a climate that is similar to that of Utah
and states far to the south. It is a
healthy climate; statistics show that it
has a lower death rate than any other
part of the United States. The bright,
sunny days that characterize our Win-
ters are cheerful and invigorating.

While this city is full of opportunities
for the settler, to the visitor it has many
points of interest. Besides the falls that
are many and varied in their beauty, the
giant spring located just outside the city
is one of the wonders of the Northwest.
This spring, spoken of in the journal of
Lewis and Clark as the "Wonderful
Fountain," flows out of the hillside but
a short distance from the river bank, or
rather it comes up in the hillside. The
flow is apparently the same throughout
the year and its temperature varies but
slightly from fifty-two degrees. It is
also but a few hours drive to the
mountains; or, a trip by train to
Neihart will unfold mountain scen-
ery unsurpassed in its magnificence
by any similar stretch of road.

BLACK EAGLE FALLS, ONE OF GREAT FALLS'
NATURAL. POWER ASSETS

COURT HOUSE SQUARE FROM MAIN TO WASHINGTON STREETS

BLOOMINGTON, ILLINOIS

THE city of Bloomington, situated in
the richest agricultural district in the
state of Illinois, is well known for the
stability and enterprise of its business
men and for the beauty and comfort of
its homes. Already one of the foremost
cities in the state, with the rapid pro-
gress that is now being made it is but
a question of a few years until it will be
one of the foremost cities in the middle
West. The observant visitor sees on
every hand the evidences of prosperity
and progress. Handsome store and
office buildings offer accommodations
for business and professional men.
The history of Bloomington dates back
to July 4, 1831. It was on that day that
a certain tract of land given by a Mr.
Allen was sold at public auction in order
to raise funds with which to build a
court house. The marvelous increase
in real estate values can be inferred
from the fact that the lots bordering on
the public square were at that time sold
as low as $50. After this sale a court
house was built and the permanent loca-
tion of the city was established. At
that time the population did not number
more than eighty persons, but this in-
creased until in 1836 the inhabitants
numbered over 450. About this time
the city suffered a severe setback from
the panic of 1836. The courage and

industry of the sturdy pioneers brought
the village successfully through this
crisis, and the growth and development
of the city went on even more rapidly
than before. Schools and churches were
built, a more effective form of govern-
ment was adopted and the foundation
for greater Bloomington was securely
laid.

In 1852 the growth of the city was
accelerated by the building of the Illi-
nois Central railroad with Bloomington
as a station on its line. As early as
1853 cars were running on this road, and
in the same year the Chicago & Alton
started train service between Blooming-
ton and Springfield. These two roads
gave the city new life, and by 1860 the
population had reached 2,000. From
that day to this the growth of the city
has been constant, — never of the
nature of a boom, but always steady
and permanent. From a population of
2,000 it has made a good substantial
gain until at the present time the census
shows a population of 35,000. These
figures do not accurately represent the
number to which the city is entitled, for
many people living in the outlying dis-
tricts are in reality a part of the city,
but being outside of the corporation
limits they are not so classified.

This is the Bloomington of today. As

ELOOMINGTON, ILLINOIS

a well lighted, well watered and well
paved city it has but few equals. The
idea of civic improvement has always
been encouraged by the officials of the

These shops and factories give employ-
ment to thousands of laborers. While
the manufactured products of the indi-
vidual factories may not aggregate as

IN THE RESIDENCE DISTRICT

city, and with good results. Splendid
streets with good sidewalks, well built
sewers, the purest and best water in the
world, well improved parks — these to-
gether with home loving,la\v abiding citi-
zens, magnificent churches, up to date
street railways, colleges and other edu-
cational institutions, make Bloomington
what it is — the model city of the middle
West.

During the last few years the indus-
trial part of Bloomington has taken on
new life. New manufactures and other
business enterprises have located in the
city, the result being to swell the total
amount of business already carried on.

BLOOMINGTON'S CITY HALL

much volume as the output of individual
factories in other cities, yet the total
output will compare very favorably with
the product of other cities that are much
larger. Right here it should be noted
that ten diverging trunk railway lines
give excellent railway connections, offer-
ing special advantages to manufacturers
and jobbers and making the city one of
the best distributing centers in the stale.
It should also be noted that the pros-
perity of Bloomington is in no small
measure due to the prosperous condition
of the surrounding agricultural com-
munity. The majority of the farmers of
McLean county own their own farms,

NORTH SIDE OF COURT HOUSE SQUARE

HIGH SCHOOL BUILDING

BLOOMINGTON, ILLINOIS

have them paid for, and many of them
carry good bank accounts.

But the city of Bloomington does not
offer attractions to the manufacturer or
business man alone. For the home
seeker there are advantages equalled by
but few cities, excelled by none. With
its fine sewer system, pure water, health-
ful location and efficient administration
of the health laws Bloomington shows
a sanitary record that makes it a most
desirable location for the private citizen.
Good sanitary conditions have kept the
city surprisingly free from epidemics,
and the death rate is unusually low.

In driving about the city one is im-
pressed with the amount and quality of
the street paving. Bloomington is the
birthplace of brick paving, and since its
introduction twenty-five years ago the
work has been carried on to such an
extent that of all the cities in the
West of similar size Bloomington is
easily in the lead.

It is not possible in the limited scope
of this article to set out in detail all the
facts that make Bloomington a desirable
residence center. But one fact is of
such importance as to warrant special
mention. The schools of this city have
always been the pride of its citizens.
Much attention has been paid to the
construction of the buildings while in
the character of the work done their
claim to a high degree of excellence is
admitted all over the state. The Illi-
nois Wesleyan University offers excel-
lent opportunities along the line of
higher education. It offers preparatory
as well as collegiate work. Located at
Normal, two miles from the court house,
and connected with the city by an elec-
tric railway, is the state normal school,
which has long been known as one of
the best institutions in this part of the
country for the education of teachers.
Another institution that makes for the
progress and prosperity of Bloomington
is the Business Men's Association. This
association was organized in 1900, the

object being to get good, safe industries
to come to the city and also to assist
those that were already here. The mem-
bership roll shows a large number of the
business men of the city. Much good
has been accomplished by this organiza-

ONE OF BLOOMINGTON'S NEW HOTELS

WITHERS PUBLIC LIBRARY
Jt

HOUGHTON'S LAKE

tion, and it is safe to say it will always
be an important factor in the city's pro-
gress. It is manifestly impossible to
make any magazine article of three or
four pages a complete exposition of the
advantages of a city. We can but state
facts and let the reader form his own
opinions.

HOW THE SILVER DOLLARS WERE RECEIVED

PORTRAITS of five of those who
received awards of silver dollars as
high as their head, are presented in this
issue. The other portraits were not re-
ceived in time for October and will appear
in November. The letters of appreciation
that are pouring in are certainly an in-
spiration and the highest commendation
possible for the conscientious work per-
formed by the committee. A number of
Heart Throbs will appear each month.
They will not be the highest awards,
but will range from A to F. These con-
tributions will be appreciated by our
readers and become an important fea-
ture of the National, for what is more
refreshing than to meet an old friend
in print! It is planned to print the
prize awards and a number of others
in book form later, which will make a
rare selection of 1,000 heart gems —
selected by the people of the present
generation, — beginning with President
Roosevelt's favorite heart throb

"Mine eyes have seen the glory of

the coming of the Lord"
and the late Secretary Hay's choice of
"Crossing the Bar," to the jokes and
humorous bits that have endured for

generations.

* * *

Mr. Thomas J. Bissell, principal of
the Charlton street school, Newark,
New Jersey, writing under date of Sep-
tember 5th, says:

"The Adams Express has just de-
livered to me six hundred and fifty
dollars, which has been awarded to me
in your Heart Throb Contest. First of
all, let me express to you my thanks for
the same, and through you to the honor-
able judges whom I shall also address
by letter later.

"About a year ago my attention was
called to your magazine, and the offer
made. It had the ring of sincerity, and
after reading of some of the wonderful
things you were doing decided to send
you a clipping that I had carried about
in my purse for ten years at least. I
had read and reread the clipping myself,

and thought if ever there was a Heart
Throb it surely was contained in the
sentiment expressed in that little poem.
I have received the magazine every
month thereafter, and do not hesitate to
say that of all the magazines in circula-
tion none was enjoyed more than the
National. I had almost forgotten the
matter of a prize. Wednesday evening,
August 30, I stopped over night at Hotel
Essex, Boston, Massachusetts. I spent
Thursday on Boston Common, Concord,
Lexington, Bunker Hill and the State
House. I reached my school on Friday
about ten o'clock, and by ten-thirty had

THOMAS J. BISSELL, NEWARK, N. J.

your telegram reading, 'Telegraph quick
your exact height to the thirty-second of
an inch. Verify later in letter before
a notary public,' signed, 'Joe Mitchell
Chappie.'

"I was too busy to think much, finally
concluded that two men in the lobby of
the hotel had made a wager on my
height. Some of my friends suggested
that the police of the Hub were after
me, etc. I sent the information desired
and when I had time to collect my
thoughts the name of Joe Mitchell
Chappie rang in rny ears, and I knew
I had won a prize. Even then I did not

HOW THE SILVER DOLLARS WERE RECEIVED

dream that I had won so much. I really
had forgotten the conditions of the con-
test. When I received your letter and
also the one signed by W. B. Allison
and George Dewey as judges, notifying
me that I had won, I was really prepare^
for it. The great surprise came when
the Adams Express Company unloaded
the six hundred and fifty-three silver
dollars.

I thank you from the bottom of my
heart and am sure if I were poetically
inclined, I could produce the greatest
Heart Throb that ever came from a
human being. Long live Joe Mitchell
Chappie and the National Magazine.
May the magazine continue to make the
wonderful strides in the future it has
in the past. Gratefully,

-Thomas J. 'Bissell.
Newark, N. J.

Mr. Bissell supplies the following
facts concerning his career to date:
At present principal of Charlton street
school, Newark, New Jersey, and secre-
tary and treasurer of the Newark Princi-
pal's Association, member of the execu-
tive committee of the State Teachers'
Association, choirmaster of Memorial
Presbyterian church and Peddie Memo-
rial First Baptist church. He was born
at Stanhope, Sussex county, New Jersey,
October 23, 1865, son of Joseph H. and
Susan J. Bissell. He married Clara L.
Seitz, and they are the parents of three
children, Nina, Ola and Cryil. Mr.
Bissell was educated at Stanhope public
school, Rutgers college and New Jersey
State Normal school. After graduation
he was successively and successfully
superintendent of schools in Madison,
Summit, Belleville, Flemington, New
Jersey, and principal of Charlton street
school, Newark. He says that he has
"always saved clippings of emotion"
and has many more that would make
a fine collection if published."
£

Mr. H. M. Riseley, of New York City,
who received a first award has been an
occasional contributor of special articles
to the National Magazine. Writing from
135 Edgecombe avenue, New York City,

under date of September 7, Mr. Riseley
thus acknowledges receipt of his bud-
get of silver dollars:

"My Dear Mr. Chappie: The #603
came to hand today by express. I
simply cannot tell you how glad I am.
They could not have come to one who
would try to accomplish more with them.

H. M. RISELEY, NEW YORK CITY

(Enclosure)

"I enclose photo and letter giving
biographical sketch, etc., in accordance
with your request."

"It is difficult to describe what my
feelings were upon opening your letter
advising me that I had been awarded
one of the 'height' prizes in your 'Heart
Throb' contest, except to say that I
had to pinch myself — so to speak —
before I could believe that it was really
so and not a dream.

"Then, too, I might be pardoned for
being skeptical, for just once before in
my life I won a prize; but simultane-
ously with the promised dat'e of pay-
ment the payer to be went out of busi-
ness and my bird never came 'in hand'
and therefore was worth no more to me
than the proverbial 'two in the bush.'

"And so, perhaps, I could not say
more for the National Magazine and its

HOW THE SILVER DOLLARS WERE RECEIVED

most enterprising and original editor,
than that in the matter of interesting
reading as well as of prizes, you always
'deliver the goods.'

"Now about myself there isn't much
to say, but in accordance with your
request I send you my photograph and
would state that I was born thirty years
ago on a farm in Ulster County, New
York, the region made famous as the
land of Rip Van Winkle. I beg to
assure you, however, that 'Rip' could
not have slept so peacefully on that
farm, for 'Dad' would have had him up
every morning at five o'clock milking
a goodly sized herd of cows. When
about twenty years of age I came to
New York City. I don't know as I can
say that I had all my worldly goods done
up in a red bandana handkerchief, like
Wj^cead of so much in story books, but
I Jiatd no trouble in rinding storage
rooru. During the ten years I have been
he're I have been kept pretty busy prin-
cipally in trying to keep my income UP
and my expenses DOWN, a kind of
warfare particularly violent in this great
Metropolis. Your prize will, therefore,
give the scales of my ledger a handsome
booV on the right side, and give me
a chance to catch my breath for the next
round. . My career so far has been fairly
successful, and I am now an humble ser-
vant of "a. large railroad system, but I
have never yet found a place for busi-
ness or pleasure that dims in any way
my cherished memories of the old home.
Nor have I missed sending or receiving
a weekly letter from there, during that
whole time, and this probably accounts
for the fact that the verses I sent you,
entitled 'With Love — From Mother,'
appealed to me so very strongly. Evi-
dently they did to the 'judges' too, I
am happy to say, and through them they
incidentally 'touched' you, — in more
ways than one. I can only add that I
sincerely hope that you and your maga-
zine will continue to prosper, and that
the prize money which you have so
liberally distributed will come back to
you eventually a hundred fold."

"St. Louis, Mo., September i, 1905.
Mr. Joe Mitchell Chappie, Dear Sir:
This morning the expressman appeared
at my door tugging what seemed to be
a 'hefty' bag. He asked if my name
corresponded with one he had on his

records, and when I proved my identity
to his satisfaction, he turned over to me
thirty-two pounds of silver dollars.
Later on a strong young man took the

MRS. C. I. GAGE, ST. LOUIS, MO.

package on his shoulder and accom-
panied me to the bank where the silver
was counted and checked out $620.00.

Dear Mr. Chappie! I do not know
how to find words with which to thank
you sufficiently for your great kindness
and promptitude in this matter. I shall
try to repay you by working for the
spread of your magazine, the success of
which must be one of your dearest
ambitions.

I hope that your fertile brain has
already evolved another unique contest
for us. It seems to me that such feat-
ures, faithfully executed (as in this case)
cannot fail to be wonderful factors in
the permanent growth of a publication;
especially as applied to the National
Magazine which, when once introduced,
needs no other champion.

Wishing you ever increasing pros-
perity and happiness, and thanking you

HOW THE SILVER DOLLARS WERE RECEIVED

again for your courtesy, I remain,
Cordially and sincerely yours,

Mrs. C. J. Gage.
Care Republican Iron & Steel Co.

Susan E. Dickinson, of Scranton,
Pennsylvania, awarded one of the first
ten awards, makes the following graceful
acknowledgement of the National's noti-
fication of her good fortune:

"803 Electric Street, Scranton, Pa.,
September 4, 1905. — Mr. Joe Mitchell
Chappie, the National Magazine, Bos-
ton, Mass. — Dear Sir: Your dispatch of
Friday, September i, asking for my
exact height to be wired to you at once
was received at a late hour that evening
on my return from a brief absence. The
son of the friend with whom I make my
home took the measurements with great
precision, and it corresponds exactly
with the measurements, taken before at
various times simply to satisfy girls or
women of my acquaintance that they
were (or were not) a little the taller.
The answer to your question was then
telephoned down to the Western Union
office, from which we are some two miles
distant. On Saturday the verification
was mailed you.

"This morning I am in receipt of
your favor of August 31, being the
official one * bearing the signatures
of Senator Allison and Admiral
Dewey, which, apart from their
special significance in this contest,
I shall prize highly always.

"Enclosed is 'the brief biographical
sketch" you ask for. It is the unevent-
ful one of a born scribbler with whom
until the past few years the duties of
home had a necessary precedence of the
pen. To send you a photograph, I shall
have to have one taken, not having any
in my possession or within reach."

(Enclosure)

"I was educated in the 'Select
Schools' of the Society of Friends in
Philadelphia and at Westown; this last
a boarding school. Taught for a few
years in the public schools of Philadel-
phia. While yet a school girl began
publishing verses in the Saturday Even-
ing Post, then still edited bv Henry
Peterson. Later became for a time a
contributor of special articles to the
Philadelphia Press, New York Herald
and Illustrated Daily Graphic* and of

verses over various pen names and
finally with my own name. Removed
to the Wyoming Valley, and for several
years past have resided in Scranton,
engaged in newspaper work."

Mr. J. W. C. Pickering, of Lowell,
Massachusetts, awarded one of the ten
principal prizes, was made aware of his
good luck on his birthday, a fact he
made known in the following letter of
acknowledgement :

"Your favor informing me that I
had been awarded one of the prizes
in the 'Heart Throb' contest, received
yesterday, September 4. The prize,
six hundred and twenty-nine silver
dollars, came by American Express
today. When I received your tele-
gram on September i (the anniversary
day of my birth) wishing me to
send you my exact height, even to a
thirty-second of an inch, it was the
first intimation that my contribution
had found favor with the impartial
judges of your magazine's splendid con-
test. The formal announcement re-

J. W. C. PICKERING, LOWELL, MASS.

ceived yesterday and the silver this morn-
ing, I assure you came as a surprise,
and I must confess' were received
with much pleasure and appreciation.

HOW THE SILVER DOLLARS WERE RECEIVED

The very liberal and fair offer to your
subscribers for contributions, either as
clippings or original stories, made it
possible for anyone of the quarter of
million of the National's constituency
to take part in the contest, knowing that
your own high character and the stand-
ing of the judges would give them fair
and honorable treatment in the final
award. I appreciate this prize, not only
for its pecuniary value, but because your
judges have considered my 'Heart

REV. F, P. FISHER, STANWOOD, IOWA

Throb' worthy of notice among so many
contributions from men and women of
literary ability and reputation. I believe
that the National Magazine, which has
been making such rapid strides of late
under your able management, is bound
to come to the front, and ere long must
rank with the top leaders in circulation,
not only for the judicious and up-to-date
business methods employed in its execu-
tive department, but for its value as a
twentieth century literary production
and a publication such as is desired
and will be required in the families and
homes throughout our great country.
"As requested, I send, under separate
cover, my photograph. In regard to
brief biographical sketch, I will simply
say I am a native of Lowell and have
been engaged in an active business

career since starting out in my younger
days. Am at present president of the
Pickering Manufacturing Company of
this city, one of the largest manufactur-
ing concerns in the country of ladies'
and gentlemen's knit underwear, our
goods not only being sold in every state
of the Union, but in many of the foreign
countries. Have been connected with
our financial institutions and other large
corporations, not only in New England,
but in the South and West. Was asso-
ciated with the gentlemen who built up
the large telephone corporations in these
portions of the country. In a very busy
life have found recreation and pleasure,
as well as benefit and improvement, in
devoting a portion of my time to literary
pursuit and religious work.

"Wishing you continued success, I
am very sincerely yours,

J. W. C. Pickering.

"Mr. Joe Mitchell Chappie: My Dear
Friend, I find myself suddenly in the
midst of "fame and fortune" and all on
account of the National. The fame I
don't know what to do with, the money
I can take care of very easily. Permit
me to extend my sincere thanks to the
National for their generosity, their strict
integrity, and their prompt method of
doing business. Pardon my delay,
please, in the acknowledgement of this.
I had waited for the silver to arrive. It
came this morning. The telegram an-
nouncing the fact was something of a
surprise, but more than that, it con-
vinced me that the National is alive and
up-to-date, and is in fact as well as name
a national magazine. Long may she
live. Yours truly,

"Fred P. Fisher."

The subject of this sketch began life
as the son of a millwright, Mr. Theodore
Fisher, in Rockford, Illinois, soon there-
after moving to Waterloo, Iowa. The
parents wisely decided that the country
offered the best opportunities for de-
veloping manhood and muscle, and,
with three boys, moved on a farm four
miles from the city. In the early
eighties he entered Cornell college,
Mt. Vernon, Iowa, was graduated in
1886, and took his master's degree three
years later. A year in a bank, two years
as deputy clerk of the district court of
Harrison county, Iowa, a law student,
and now a Methodist pastor in Stan-
wood, Iowa.

WHERE ROOKWOOD POTTERY IS MADE

EVERY woman, — and pos-
sibly many of the men
reading the National will be
interested in knowing some-
thing about Rookwood. I
boarded a car to go up "the
incline" at Cincinnati. In a
short time we reached the
summit, and the good natured conduc-
tor touched me on the shoulder and
pointed to the left:
"There is Rookwood."
"Rookwood?" I said.
"Yes, the real Rookwood," he said,
as I still hesitated. In his very glance
there was an air of pride as though he
felt convinced that these buildings on the
summit of Mount Adams are one of the
real sights of Cincinnati. The first in-
spection of Rookwood suggests an artis-
tic chateau in France or a country house
in England rather than anything in the
nature of a factory, for there is not even
a tall chimney. What 1 saw was a row
of gabled, vine covered, stucco buildings,
pervaded with a strong suggestion of the
artistic — such is Rookwood — and how
many homes in the United States have
in them some reminder of this ideal
enterprise!

Inside the buildings there is much
that recalls the glamor of those ancient
days when the master potter wrought
with his craftsmen for the value and love
of the work itself, and not for any profit
that might accrue, and it seemed like the
beginning of those days so eloquently
sung by Rudyard Kipling. That time
when

"No one shall work for money, and no one

shall work for fame,
But each for the joy of the working, and

each in his separate star,
Shall paint the thing as he sees it for the

God of things as they are."

The impulse toward pottery of this
high class in the United States was
made manifest in the centennial year,
1876, at Philadelphia, but it was at Rook-
wood that the work was actually com-
menced in the year 1880, and we owe
the fostering of this beautiful art to Mrs.
Maria Longworth Storer, wife of the
ambassador to Austria and aunt of Con-
gressman Nicholas Longworth, who had
the idea of making art pottery, and
named the Rookwood factory after her
father's country place near at hand. No
more beautiful situation could have been
chosen, and before entering the build-
ings one is impelled to enjoy the view
of the stately Ohio river and look out
from this fine eminence on the city and
its beautiful suburbs.

* * *

Five minutes after I had crossed the
threshold I felt convinced that I was in
a place where artistic at-
tainment was the basis of
all effort. It was my good
fortune to be shown about
by Mrs. Adams, who had
charge of the exhibits at
the St. Louis Exposition
and who — like everyone
else connected with Rook-
wood — is thoroughly in
love with her work. We

WHERE ROOKWOOD POTTERY IS MADE

went first to the room
where the different
vases and pieces of
pottery were shown,
still moist from the
hands of the makers.
At this point the soft,
malleable clay is given
individuality by the
delicate touch of the
artists' brushes, every
detail being as dis-
tinctive as the last
touches given to a
great picture by a
master hand. It only
required a glance
about the room to
feel assured that this is indeed a rendez-
vous for artists — men and women "artis-
tic" to their finger tips.

The artists who work here are students
from the Art Academy of Cincinnati, an
institution that has done more, perhaps,
than anything else to give an impetus to
artistic expression and the development
of a high standard of taste throughout
the Middle West.

This is the place where the artisan
and the artist combine their efforts and
produce a perfect work of art. Nothing
is made by pattern nor are duplicates
permitted. Each article reflects a spirit
of freedom and broadness in the concep-
tion with a delicacy of feeling which
shows that the personnel of the workers
is given full play. The artist first de-
cides upon and perfects his model, and
then come the workers who put concen-
trated skill and energy into making the
article perfect with the deft touch of
twirling fingers or with the "throwing"
apparatus, which makes even the work-
manship in the modelling department
a triumph of individual craftsmanship.
On the moist clay, before the firing is
done, the colors — and what artistic colors
they are — for which the Rookwood is
famous are mixed with the clay and
become a veritable part of it, rather

than merely an outside coating. The
blending of shades, the treatment and
the decoration of the vases, is always
a labor of love, and is pregnant with
artistic enthusiasm. After the decora-
tion has been completed the pieces are
fired and the various glazes are after-
ward applied. All this care in the man-
ufacture accounts for the unmatchable
beauty of the under glaze effect of this
pottery — a beauty only attained at tre-
mendous risk and expense.

The glazes have the effect of glass
over a pastel, but this high glaze finish
is not the only kind used in Rookwood,
for the dull mat glazing is to be found
here in unequalled beauty. This kind
of ware has become exceedingly popular
in recent years and was first made here
in 1896. It was most fascinating to
go through the work rooms and long line
of studios at Rookwood, for on every
side were the evidences of genuine artis-
tic effort.

In his snug office, under the gables,
with the quaint dormer windows, and on
the walls many rare works of art — con-
tributed by Rookwood enthusiasts — I
found Mr. W. W. Taylor, manager of
the concern since 1883, when he assumed
the direction of the works. It is not
necessary to talk long with Mr. Taylor
to discover that if there ever was a man
thoroughly in
love with his
work it is the
director of
Rookwood. It
is plain to see
that under his
leadership the
workers at Rook-
wood were in-
spired with the
desire to pro-
duce quality
rather than
quantity.

In the display

WHERE ROOKWOOD POTTERY IS MADE

interesting to see a number of spectators
looking upon the vases which cost upward
of $ i ,000, and it was indeed fascinating to
inspect that other rare achievement in
the way of Chinese Oxblood, the articles
in mat glazing, the lamps, the tea sets —
in fact all that array of beautiful products
which might be studied day after day by
connoisseurs and lo^c" : of the beautiful
without danger of weariness. If there
is any one institution more than another
that emphasizes the wonderful artistic
development of America in recent years,
it is Rookwood. This name has become
a criterion, and wherever one finds a
home possessing even one piece of this
pottery the conviction comes that the
owner of the house is blessed with excel-
lent taste.

* * *

Of all the pieces displayed, nothing
is more attractive to me than those
decorated with the beautiful sea green
shades, where the darting fish sun them-
selves in translucent waters; or those
lovely iris designs that speak of the in-
fluence of Japanese art in the person of
a son of the flowery land who is one of
the artists at work in Rookwood.

The value of each piece of pottery is
determined rather by an artistic stand-
ard than by the actual time or effort
spent upon it. An article which was
produced in a comparatively short time
may be more highly valued than a piece
of less original
design which took
much longer to
execute. Appar-
ently the days
when "potter was
jealous of potter"
are gone, for what-
ever the valuation
of the work, there
seems to .be no
break in the har-
mony at Rook-
wood .
It was here for

the first time in my
life that I understood
the fascination that
might attach to being
a vase connoisseur,
for I noticed among
the visitors several
who stood, apparent-
ly motionless for
hours, before one
piece, absorbed in-
deep study, their
eyes glistening with
appreciation. I think
if every reader of the
National could see
what I saw that beau-
tiful August day, they
would all avail themselves of the first op-
portunity of securing a piece of Rookwood
for their homes. That beautiful room
had an attractiveness that even an art
gallery hardly possesses, for in this build-
ing may be seen the actual work in pro-
cess of completion. The production at
Rookwood seems to be a combination
of painting and statuary, and the beauti-
ful pieces of pottery seen on the mantels
and in every part of American homes
speak a message to the lover of work,
telling of the joy of work for its own sake.
Perhaps no industry has been more
utilized than pottery in "pointing a
moral," for here are many pieces made
from the same clay, yet with as much
individuality and as strong a difference
as exists in the personality of the artists
who have designed the various pieces.
I found that there were absolutely no
two vases alike, which must greatly en-
hance the value of Rookwood to the
modern woman, who has the joy of
knowing that she possesses in her
"Rookwood" something absolutely
unique. Imitation, too, is impossible,
for every genuine piece of Rookwood is
impressed with the trade mark, the P
and R combined, while the flame at the
top of the mark indicates to the initi-
ated,the date of the piece so that anyone

WHERE ROOKWOOD POTTERY IS MADE

familiar with Rookwood trade mark can
tell the exact year the article under in-
spection was made. The decorator's
initials are also an interesting study,
and among them may be found many
names well known in American art
circles.

The rare specimens of "Tiger Eye,"
first made in Rookwood in 1884, attract
a great deal of admiration. This class
of pottery has been manufactured in
Sevres, Copen-
hagen and Ber-
lin, but never
have the pro--
ducts of even
these famous
potteries equal-
led the "Tiger
Eye" made in
Rookwood.
» * •

Of recent
years Rook-
wood ha s
achieved an-
other triumph
and acquired
a reputation
for architectu-
ral decoration,
such as the bas
reliefs in the
subway in New
York City, in
Fulton street,

which show the ,

first steamboat;

or the decorations in Wall street, where
the old stoctcade is depicted from which
the street was originally named. Church
decoration, mantels, friezes and all sorts
of artistic decoration for the home or for
public buildings are exquisitely executed
by the Rookwood workers, and a visit
to this pottery is proof conclusive that

it is not necessary to go to Europe to
secure the most artistic decoration for
handsome homes, churches and public
buildings.

During my call at Rookwood I noticed
many of the studios vacant, the artists
being away on their vacations in
all parts of the country, searching
for new ideas, fresh inspiration
from the fields and forests, for the
unique conceptions which distin-
guish Rook-
wood . There
never was a
time when ar-
tistic produc-
tion was more
appreciated in
America than
now, for a s
our prosper-
i t y increases
we are bet-
ter able to
value the luxu-
riant, yet sim-
ple, beauty of
such works of
art as the Rook-
wood pottery,
of which every
piece possesses
that subtle
"something'''
of which one
never wearies.
__ . j In these in-
animate vases

there is a greeting, a message, an influ-
ence, that becomes a veritable part of
the life of the owner.

Hail to Rookwood and its awakening
of the art impulse — Rookwood, that
stands for superlative in craftsmanship as
well as for the highest art ideals in the
adornment of our homes!

/"\NE of the unique features of the
National for the future will be the
printing at random of some of the selec-
tions of those who secured awards.

It is not possible for us to publish a
budget of the pages of Heart Throb
selections as we had intended, for Oct-
ober. The pages are ready, but the
delay is occasioned by waiting for per-
mission to republish the copyright selec-
tions. We have applied for this per-
mission, but have not received some of
the responses in time to get the matter
in this magazine.

I wish I could express my apprecia-
tion of the letters which are coming in
not only from those who received awards
but from those who did not, but still are
anxious to see some of their old favo'ites
in print in the pages of the National.

We are now contemplating printing the
entire list sent in, or as many of them
as we can find space for, in a handsome
book, with illuminated cover, on which
will be a reproduction of the celebrated
drawing of "grandmother with her scrap
book," which appeared on our March
cover. It is difficult to say just when
this book will be ready, but we hope in
time for the holiday trade, as with its
gilt edges, gold lettering on the cover,
and pretty arrangement of verse and
prose it will be just the thing for a
Christmas or New Year gift. This book
should be one of the most unique ever
issued, as the matter in reality is chosen
by the thousands of individuals who
have sent in their favorite poems or

prose. The names of those contributing
will be printed in the index in connec-
tion with the title, so that everyone will
know what everyone else sent in. The
price will be $1.50, and if you are inter-
ested it would be well to send on an order
at once to be put on file. If the
book is printed before December 20 the
order will hold good, otherwise it will
be considered cancelled. The books
will be shipped in the order the requests
are received, so it would be well to send
in your order at once and you can send
in money later if convenient. This will
enable you to make a gift of unusual inter-
est to your friends, as it will represent
the heart feeling of thousands of your
fellow countrymen and women, and will
preserve many favorite gems in prose
and verse.

I ET'S talk it over— well, yes, Hereto-
fore I have done most of the talking,
but now I sit back in my old rocking
chair and look at the pyramids of letters
piled high on my desk. We will not
quote from the old masters but from real,
living writers this time. I reach out,
draw one from the pile without any spe-
cial care as to selection. Let them come
as they will. This comes from Iowa,
good old state.

"I suppose that the money you send
is for one of the clippings sent in some
time ago. I thank you very much; it is
another link in the chain that binds me
to the National and to Joe.' '

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

Now for another. This is from Wis-
consin :

"Your letter of September 7 received,
containing a "heart throb" for me in
the shape of a check, for which please
accept my thanks. I am proud that my
selections won the approval of your
judges, and also greatly pleased to be in
possession of the three autographs con-
tained in your said letter.

Then comes a friend who wishes to
frame the judges letter and adds:

"This was the most unique and at the
same time the most interesting maga-
zine contest that I have ever known."

"From Minnesota we have:

"I received your announcement of the
fact that I had been awarded a prize for
contribution to your contest. Of course
I did not expect anything of the kind,
because I acted hurriedly and only took
part to push along a good thing."

Another reads:

"I thank you very much for the little
award you send me for rny contribution.
It was altogether unexpected, I assure
you, consequently all the more appre-
ciated. When you first suggested the
idea I thought it a fine one for your sub-
scribers I will return you the

check and you can please use it for my
subscription, which I think is about out."

I look to see where this good friend
lives, and find it is South Carolina.

A Massachusetts contributor writes:

"Am very much pleased to receive
award in the Heart Throb contest, the
check for which is here by acknowledged.
It was not required as an incentive to
work for your magazine."

Another from the same state reads:

"I can hardly express to you the sur-
prise and pleasure with which I received
your letter this evening, awarding a prize
to one of my contributions in vour Heart
Throb contest. I thank you most cor-
dially and only hope the same profit will
accrue to you and your magazine that
you have bestowed upon others."

From New York I have this letter:

" Your valued gift received and to partly
show my appreciation for same I wish
to have the enclosed dollar entered as
a subscription to the National for one
year beginning with September, 1905,
number."

But the next letter I take up is from
a friend who has not won an award.
She writes on other business and then
says:

"I am pleased with the National
Magazine and am not disappointed in
not receiving a prize — I really did not
expect it," and the entire letter is in
just as friendly a tone as though she had
won the biggest award. This is only
one of many letters of this kind that we
have received, while many of our sub-
scribers write us that now they are on
our books for five, seven or ten years
they feel a special interest in the maga-
zine, and almost regard themselves as
part owners, which in reality they are.

Talk about reciprocity! I wish you
could see our own checks come pouring
back to us as payment for future sub-
scriptions to the National. I think this
must have been as great a surprise to
me as the receipt of the checks seems
to have been to those who received
awards. It is a singular fact that the
people who expected to receive awards
did not get them, while those who sent
in contributions merely because they
personally admired the selection, were
the people who drew the prizes, though
of course we could not know these
details until they afterward wrote us.
The letters are what count; for, as Sec-
retary Hay so well said, no man is too
successful to appreciate a word of praise
or encouragement. But perhaps the
most delightful compliment I ever had
was the sight of a number of subscrip-
tion cards where every square left blank
for the various years was covered right
across the card.

Every subscriber helps to make the
National better. Just ask your friends
about subscribing.

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

rvURING a recent visit in England,
we arrived in Manchester, and as we
drove along the busy streets of the "city
of looms" I noticed among other things
the statue of Cromwell, with its rough
hewn pedestal of granite, which seemed
especially suited to the iron character
of the man. As we were enjoying a
drive in a hansom, passing from one
part of the city to another, the lady at
my side suddenly exclaimed:

"Why, there is where our toothpaste
is made!"

True enough, there were the modest
letters, "Jewsbury & Brown," makers of
the Oriental Toothpaste, so familiar to
us, in the convenient little china jars.
For Oriental Toothpaste has been the
standard for the best trade in the world
for many years past. It is surprising
to note the widespread use of this article
in the United States, and its popularity,
like all popularity that endures, is based
on merit. Perhaps it is not too much
to say that in all lands where toothpaste
is used, the Oriental has won its honestly
earned laurels.

It was strange how seeing that familiar
name on this occasion impressed us.
How often we had looked upon the little
labels in the bathroom at home and
never dreamed that we should one day
visit the place where those tiny porcelain
jars were filled with their valuable and
useful contents — for what can be of more
value than that which helps to preserve
the teeth?

Ardwick Green, — there is something
antique in the very name. There is a
sort of old English substantiality and
picturesqueness about it. How many
times the use of that red paste night and
morning had been a part of my toilet,
but I little dreamed when I used the
Oriental day by day that my first adver-
tising contract secured for the National
Magazine on foreign soil would be given
by Jewsbury& Brown, proprietors of the
Oriental Toothpaste and one of the larg-

ESTABLISHMENT OF JEWSBURY AND BROWN,
MAKERS OF "ORIENTAL" TOOTH PASTE, ARD-
WICK GREEN, MANCHESTER, ENGLAND

est firms of manufacturers and exporters
of mineral waters in the United Kingdom.

There are many thousand readers of
the National to whom this name has
become familiar through the medium of
their frequently recurring advertising.

The exchange of products in this way
has, I believe, had much to do with the
amity between the nations. While the
American mind may insist on the super-
lative quality of everything manufac-
tured in this country, still it must be
confessed that it is human nature to
recognize that quality is a world wide
standard, and its recognition is univer-
sal. I know that the interest of our
readers in this product will be enhanced
by this little sketch, for I fancy that
there are few Americans who have
visited Manchester, England, who have
not come upon this interesting spot.

No souvenir carried away from Eng-
land was more prized than that little pot
of Oriental Toothpaste, presented at the
factory to the lady of the party.

'/•;• tfitifffsf'-m

•.-••:. '

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"HEART THROBS" AT RANDOM

Address to the Unco* Guld or the
Rigidly Righteous

My son, these maxims make a rule,

And lump them aye thegither;
The Rigid Righteous is a fool,

The Rigid Wise anither:
The cleanest corn that ever was dight,

May hae some pyles o' caff in;
So ne'er a fellow creature slight

For random fits o' daffin.

O ye wha are sae guid yoursel,

Sae pious and sae holy,
Ye've nought to do but mark and tell

Your neebor's fauts and folly!
Whase life is like a well gaun mill,

Supplied wi store o' water,
The heapet happer's ebbing still,

And still the clap plays clatter.

Hear me, ye venerable core,

As counsel for poor mortals,
That frequent pass douce wisdom's door,

For Glaikit folly's portals;
I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes,

Would here propose defences,
Their donise tricks, their black mistakes,

Their failings and mischances.

Ye see your state with theirs compared,

And shudder at the niffer,
But cast a moment's fair regard,

What makes the mighty differ;
Discount what scant occasion gave

That purity ye pride in,
And (what's aft mair than a the lave)

Your better art o' hiding.

Think when your castigated pulse

Gies now and then a wallop,
What raging must his veins convulse

That still eternal gallop;
Wi wind and tide fair i' your tail,

Right on you scud your sea way;
But in the teeth o' baith to sail,

It makes an unco lee way.

See social life and Glee sit down,

All joyous and unthinking,
Til quite transmugrify'ed, tbe're grown,

Debauchery and drinking:
O would they stay to calculate

The eternal consequences;

Or your more dreadful Hell to state,
Damnation of expenses!

Then gently scan your brother man,

Still gentler sister woman ;
Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang,

To step aside is human :
One point must still be greatly dark,

The moving Why they do it;
And just as lamely can ye mark,

How far perhaps they rue it.

Who made the heart, t'is he alone,

Decidedly can try us,
He knows each chord its various tone,

Each spring its various bias:
Then at the balance let's be mute,

We never can adjust it;
What's done we partly may compute,

But know not what's resisted.

—Robert Burns.

Come, Rest In This Bosom

Come, rest in this bosom, my own

stricken deer,
Though the herd have fled from thee,

thy home is still here;
Here still is the smile, that no cloud can

o'ercast,
And a heart and a hand all thy own to

the last.

Oh! What was love made for, if 'tis not

the same,
Through joy and through torment,

through glory and shame?
I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in the

heart,

I but know that I love thee, whatever
thou art.

Thou hast called me thy angel in mo-
ments of bliss.

And thy angel I'll be, mid the horrors
of this —

Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy
steps to pursue,

And shield thee, and save thee — or per-
ish here too !

^- Thomas Moore.

DEPARTMENT OF PROGRESSIVE ADVERTISERS

Children are happy
over their daily bowl of

Quaker Oats

and every mother knows there is

no other cereal that can take its

place as a food to build strong

boys and girl^s

Don't fail to mention "The National Magazine" when writing to advertisers.

"HEART THROBS" AT RANDOM

Consequences

A traveler on the dusty road

Strewed acorns on the lea;
And one took root and sprouted up,

And grew into a tree.
Love sought its shade, at evening time,

To breath his early vows,

And age was pleased, in heats of noon,

To bask beneath its boughs.
The dormouse loved its dangling twigs,

The birds sweet music bore;
It stood a glory in its place,

A blessing evermore.

A little spring had lost its way

Amid the grass and fern.
A passing stranger scooped a well

Where weary men might turn;
He walled it in, and hung with care

A ladle at the brink;

He thought not of the deed he did,
But judged that all might drink.

He paused again, and lol the well,
By Summer never dried,

Had cooled ten thousand parching

tongues
And saved a life beside.

A dreamer dropped a random thought;

'Twas old, and yet 'twas new;
A simple fancy of the brain,

But strong in being true.
It shone upon a genial mind,

And lol its light became

A lamp of life, a beacon ray,

Admonitory flame;
The thought was small, its issue great;

A watchfire on the hill;
It shed its radiance far adown,

And cheers the valley still.

A nameless man, amid a crowd
That thronged the daily mart,

Let fall a word of hope and love,
Unstudied from the heart;

A whisper on that tumult thrown,
A transitory breath —

It raised a brother from the dust,

It saved a soul from death.
O germ! O fount! O word of love!

O thought at random castl

Ye were but little at the first
But mighty at the last.

—New York Magazine.

Crossing the Bar

This is the favorite poem of the late

Secretary John Hay
Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar

When I put out to sea:
But such a time as ocean seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the

boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of fare-
well,

When I embark.
For though from out our bourne of Time

and Place,

The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

— Tennyson.
df

A well known Indiana man,
One dark night last week,
Went to the cellar with a match
In search of a gas leak.

(He found it.)
John Welch by curiosity

(Dispatches state) was goaded;
He squinted in his old shotgun
To see if it was loaded.

(It was.)
A man in Macon stopped to watch

A patent cigar clipper;
He wondered if his finger was
Not quicker than the nipper.

(It wasn't.)
A Maine man read that human eyes

Of hypnotism were full;
He went to see if it would work
Upon an angry bull.
(It wouldn't.)
— San Francisco Bulletin-.

DEPARTMENT OF PROGRESSIVE ADVERTISERS

Gillette

There are several kinds of safety razors — the Gillette Safety l^azor — and the other kinds.

Most other safety razors have been on the market for years. The Gillette Safety l^azor is a new idea,
and is the only safety razor made on the right principle, insuring a clean, sure, easy, and comfortable
shave to the man who uses it.

One of the indisputable proofs of its success is that hundreds of thousands are now in use. Every one
sold and used means a happy, satisfied customer, ever ready to sing its praise. Every Gillette Razor sold (and
every day shows a steady increase in sales) proves that the man who buys a Gillette is not satisfied with the
other kind or with the other method.

For comfort, health, and economy's sake shave yourself the Gillette way. Once that way, never again
the other.

The price of the Gillette Safety Razor is $5.OO complete in an attractive, compact, velvet-lined case.

The Razor is triple silver-plated ; has 12 thin, flexible, highly tempered and keen double-edged
blades. These blades are sharpened and ground by a secret process and require no honing or stropping.

Each blade will give from twenty to forty smooth and delightful shaves. You therefore have by using a
Gillette Safety Razor 400 shaves without stropping, at less than i cent a shave.

Over 200,000 now in use.

Ask your dealer for the Gillette Safety Razor. Accept no substitute. He can
procure it for you.

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offer. Most dealers make this offer; if yours does not, we will.

GILLETTE SALES COMPANY

1141 Times Building
42d Street and Broadway, New York

Don't fail to mention "The National Magazine" when writing to advertisers,

"HEART THROBS" AT RANDOM

Bereaved

Let me come in where you sit weeping

—aye,

Let me, who have not any child to die,
Weep with you for the little one whose
love
I have known nothing of.

The little arms that slowly, slowly loosed
Their pressure round your neck — the

hands you used
To kiss— such arms — such hands I never

knew.

May I not weep with you?

Fain would I be of service — say some-
thing

Between the tears, that would be com-
forting.

But oh! — so sadder than yoursely am I,
Who have.no child to die!

— James Whitcomb Riley.

Afterwhile

Afterwhile we have in view
The old home to journey to;
Where the Mother is, and where
Her sweet welcome waits us there,
How we'll click the latch that locks
In the pinks and hollyhocks,
And leap up the path once more
Where she waits us at the door,
How we'll greet the dear old smile
And the warm tears, afterwhile.

— James Whitcomb Riley.

Ji
My Symphony

To live content with small means; to
seek elegance rather than luxury, and
refinement rather than fashion: to be
worthy, not respectable: and wealthy,
not rich: to study hard, think quietly,
talk gently, act frankly: to listen to stars
and birds, to babes and sages, with open
heart: to bear all cheerfully, do all
bravely, await occasions, hurry never:
in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden
and unconscious, grow up through the
common.

This is to be my symphony.

— Willam Henry Channing.

Columbus

Behind him lay the gray Azores,

Behind the ghost of Hercules,
Before him not the ghost of shores,

Before him only shoreless seas.
The good mate said, now let us pray,

For lo! the very stars are gone,
Speak brave Admiral, what shall we say?

Sail on, sail on, sail on. and on.

My men grow mutinous day by day,

My men grow ghastly wan and weak,
The first mate thought of home,

A spray of salt wave washed his

swarthy cheek.
Say Admiral, say, what shall we do,

If we sight naught but seas at dawn?
Why, you should say at break of day,

Sail on, sail on, sail on and on.

They sailed, they sailed as winds that
blow,

Until at last the first mate said:
Why, not even God would know

Though all my men and I were dead.
The very winds forget their way,

For God from these dread seas is gone,
Speak brave Admiral, what shall we say?

Sail on, sail on, sail on and on.

Then I sailed, then I sailed then spake
the mate,

The mad sea shows his teeth tonight,
He curls his lips, he lies in wait,

As lifted teeth he wished to bite.
Say Admiral, say, just one good word,

What shall we do, when hope is gone?
The words leaped as a leaping sword,

Sail on, sail on, sail on and on.

Then pale and wan he kept his deck,

And peered through darkness. Ah!

that night,
Of all dark nights, and then a speck,

A light, a light, a light, a light;
It grew; a starlight flag unfurled;

It grew to be time's burst of dawn;
He gained a world; he gave that world,

Its grandest lesson : On! Sail on.

— Joaquin Miller

DEPARTMENT OP PROGRESSIVE ADVERTISERS

A Good
Ipcorpe

may be obtained immediately from any idle
money you have on hand by simply deposit-
ing it in this bank at

4% Annual
Interest

payable or compounded semi-annually. It's
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THE UNION

SAVING?
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its style and the ar-
tistic quality of ita
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women or refine-
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It will wear a
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For sale ty your
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Appeals to Men of Fine Habits in Dress

Made of the Spring Needle fabric of remarkable elasticity, knitted on
machines of our own invention and manufacture. The garments
made from this fabric are of the finest yarns and their hygienic value
is unsurpassed. They always retain their original shape even after the
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They are made in two-piece and union suits, in
various sizes, weights and colors.

A%1 for the genuine Ltolt for this trademark

COOPER MFG. CO.

BENNINGTON, VERMONT

Don't fail to mention "The National Magazine" when writiner to advertisers.

The First Steamboat Passage
Money Ever Paid

Says the narrator of this incident:

"I chanced to be in Albany when
Fulton arrived with his, unheard of craft,
the Claremont, which everybody was so
anxious to see. Being ready to leave,
and hearing the strange looking boat
was about to return to New York, I went
on board, and inquiring for Mr. Fulton
was directed to the cabin, where I found
a plain looking, but gentlemanly appear-
ing man, wholly alone.

" 'Mr. Fulton, I presume?'

" 'Yes sir.'

" 'Do you return to New York with
this boat?'

'"We shall try to get back, sir."

" 'Can I have passage down?'

" 'You can take your chance with us.
sir.'

" 'How much is the passage money?'

"After a moment's hesitation, he
named the sum of six dollars, and I
laid the coins in his hand. ,^

"With his eyes fixed upon the money,
he remained so long motionless that I
concluded there was a miscount, &nd
asked :
'• " 'Is that right, sir?'

"The question roused him; he looked
up, tears brimming his eyes and his
voice faltering as he said:

"'Excuse me, sir, but memory was
busy, and this is the first pecuniary
reward I have ever received for all my
exertions in adapting steam to naviga-
tion; I would order a bottle of wine to
commemorate the event, but really, sir,
:t am too poor.'

"The voyage to New York was suc-
cessful and terminated without accident
or delay.

"Four years later, when the Claremont,
greatly improved and renamed the
North River, and two sister boats, the
,Car of Neptune and the Paragon, were
regularly plying between New York and
Albany, I again took passage.

"The cabin was below and well filled

with passengers. As I paced to and
fro I observed a man watching me
closely, and thought he might be Ful-
ton, and as I passed him our eyes met,
when he sprang to his feet eagerly ex-
tending his hand and exclaiming:

" 'I knew it must be you. I have
never forgotten your features. Come, I
can now afford that bottle of wine.'

"'As we discussed the nice lunch he
ordered spread for us, Mr. Fulton ran
rapidly and vividly over his experiences
of the past few years. He spoke of the
world's coldness and sneers, of the
hopes, fears, disappointments and diffi-
culties which had followed him through
his whole career of discovery up to his
final crowning triumph of success.

'I have again and again recalled our first
meeting at Albany and the vivid emo-
tions caused by your paying me that first
passage money. That sir, seemed then,
and still seems, the turning point in my
destiny, — the dividing line between light
and darkness — the first actual recogni-
tion of my usefulness from my fellow,
men. God bless you, sirl That act of
yours gave me the courage I needed.' "

A clergyman, anxious to introduce
some new hymn books, directed the
clerk to give out a notice in church
in regard to them immediatey after the
sermon. The clerk, however, had a
notice of his own to give out with refer-
ence to the baptism of infants. Accord-
ingly, at the close of the sermon he
announced: "All those who have child-
ren they wish baptized please send in
their names at once." The clergyman,
who was deaf, supposing that the clerk
was giving out the hymn book notice,
immediately arose and said: "And I
want to say for the benefit of those who
haven't any, that they may be obtained
of me any day between three and four
o'clock; the ordinary little ones at fif-
teen cents, and special ones with red
backs at twenty-five cents each."

-C
CO

O
U

-C

bJD
O

-a

COLONEL THEODORE ROOSEVELT, PEACE ADVOCATE

Photograph copyright 1898 by Rockwood. New York

NATIONAL MAGAZINE

VOLUME XXIII.

NOVEMBER, 1905

NUMBER TWO

ff&irs at Wasfi/ngfon

all incidents
associated with
the career of Theo-
dore Roosevelt, none
reaches the superb
heights of heart inter-
est attained in the
leave-taking of his old
friends and neighbors
at Oyster Bay, before
returning to Washing-
ton for the Winter. It is the heart qual-
ities that make or unmake a man, as well
as determine the effect of large move-
ments. Here were school children,
with fluttering flags and songs, the
stately sheriffs, old neighbors and
friends of youth and manhood, all
assembled to bid the president god-
speed as he left the little brick sta-
tion at Oyster Bay. The refrain of
the song, "God Be With You Till We
Meet Again," had a touch of devotion
and sincerity that met with a response
throughout the nation. It was a ripple
of the uplift which has taken firm hold
of the conscience of the nation. With
all his determination and energy, Presi-
dent Roosevelt could never be termed
a scold, and in this instance there was
a revelation of the wonderful heart
power of the man, such as nothing else
could furnish. For upon a man's per-
sonal relations with his fellow men must
his public acts be founded.
Near the new office of the town clerk

SHOWING THE SIGNATURE OF WITTE, THE

RUSSIAN STATESMAN AND CHIEF

PEACE ENVOY, IN RUSSIAN AND

IN ENGLISH SCRIPT

stands the only form
of inscription in
bronze or stone that
indicates that one
inhabitant of Oyster
Bay has become pres-
ident of the United
States. This is the
inscription on the old
cannon which was un-
veiled by the presi-
dent on its presentation to the village
of Oyster Bay.

On reaching Washington, the tri-
umphal ride down historic Pennsylvania
avenue was like another inauguration.
Crowds of people followed to the very
gate of the White House, and there,
in the fading light of the Autumn even-
ing, he rose in the carriage, with his
family about him, and bade his friends
"good night and good luck." It was
a graphic and thrilling picture of the
simplicity and cohesiveness of our own
democracy as exemplified in Theodore
Roosevelt. Here were not the wild
plaudits of hero worshippers, hurrying
this way today and another way tomor-
row, but a well defined and hearty
respect for one whom the world has
delighted to honor. It was a glimpse
of the real relationship of the presi-
dent to the people of a great re-
public, and conclusive evidence that
he directs his policies through the
people rather than through statesmen.

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

During the closing days of the Sum-
mer at Oyster Bay I drove to "The
Hill." On the way I passed the stately
white mansion whose colonial pillars
suggest the southern origin of the presi-
dent's mother. He still owns this old
estate, but has leased it. Passing on to
the pond at Young's, the Stars and
Stripes greet the traveler at the turn of
the road. Skirting the shore of Oyster
Bay and turning again to the right, we
passed to the summit of the hill, where
the president's home stands in a wide
stretch of green.

Under the hickory trees {he secret
service man sat in a souvenir chair com-
posed of antlers, for the president is
guarded by a solitary sentinel day and
night. The drive encircles the house,
and an endless procession passed up
and down the hill during the Summer.

MR. OSCAR RICKETTS, THE GOVERNMENT PRINT-
ING OFFICE FOREMAN WHO HAS BEEN PUT
IN CHARGE OF THE INSTITUTION PEND-
ING THE CHOICE OF A PERMANENT
SUCCESSOR TO FRANK W.
PALMER, RETIRED

Photograph by National Press Association

At the junction of two roads is the
tennis court, now deserted and covered
with fallen leaves. Near the veranda
was the president, vigorously at work,
attired in gray knickerbockers— the very
picture of seasoned health. Two days
earlier an important conference had
been held at Sagamore Hill and the
visitors managed to elude the efforts of
the ever watchful newspaper men by
taking a new road across the country to
catch the train, thus preserving until the
proper time the plans which had been
formulated in a few hours in the "new
workshop" at the top of the hill.

There is something exhilarating as
well as melancholy in the return of
Autumn, but if there ever was a man
who left his Summer playground justi-
fied in feeling satisfied with work well
and successfully done, it was Theodore
Roosevelt as he drove down the wind-
ing road of Oyster Bay on his return
journey to Washington, and the simple
executive offices over the grocery store
were closed for the Winter.

It may be of interest to know that real
oysters grow at Oyster Bay, and that
the president's one regret was that he
was returning just before the oyster sea-
son had begun. So, contrary to the
general impression, Oyster Bay came
honestly and appropriately by its name.

Before visiting Oyster Bay I had been
to Portsmouth. I am one of those
people who take a keen interest in look-
ing over the field after the battle has
been fought, or visiting the playground
after the actors have vanished. As a
boy I made a point of going to the
circus field the day after the circus had
gone away, and I well remember how
unreal it seemed to find nothing but the
ring marked upon the trodden grass and
the holes where the tents had been fas-
tened — the only visible evidences of the
gaiety of the night before. The news-
paper men at Portsmouth were like the

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

119

VICE PRESIDENT FAIRBANKS AND SENATOR BURROWS OF MICHIGAN ON THE BRIDGE

OF THE REVENUE CUTTER TUSCARORA LEADING THE NAVAL PARADE

THROUGH THE SAULT STE. MARIE CANAL ON AUGUST 2, THE

OCCASION BEING THE CELEBRATION OF THE FIFTIETH

ANNIVERSARY OF THE OPENING OF THE CANAL

Photographs by Clyde Hayden

little boys and girls whose parents do
not approve of circuses; no reporters of
any description were admitted to the
"Island of Peace."

From Portsmouth I drove down Saga-
more avenue, over the road on which
the Pope-Toledo automobiles had buzzed
back and forth during the Summer,
carrying envoys from the Hotel Went-
worth to the peace conference rooms,
about three miles from the city. The
road passed a large and populous ceme-
tery, for Portsmouth is one of the few
cities in America that has preserved the
quaintness of colonial days, and this old
world touch was not dispelled when I
reached the Wentworth. In the damp

gloom of the rainy day the hotel seemed
"like some banquet hall deserted," and
as I passed in to go to the rooms that
had been occupied by the envoys, I was
surprised to hear a sound of life — the
ghostly ticking of the telegraph instru-
ments under the stairway. At the turn of
the stairs I was startled by a life size fig-
ure of a negro in terra cotta, and on reach-
ing the rooms found them still strewn
with pens, paper and other evidences of
hasty departure. I was 'presented with
a pen used by one of the Japanese
envoys, a simple souvenir of a great
event. Passing out of the hotel, I
paused a moment to look back. It is
a great, white frame structure, with

120

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

bevelled front. In front of the house
masses of granite were surrounded by
beds of scarlet flowers, whose colors
contrasted well with the dark surface
of the rock. Off in the distance the
Atlantic presented a typical view of that
rock bound coast, and near at hand were
the navy yard and the waters of the

HONORABLE PETER WHITE, PRESIDENT OF THE
SAULT STE. MARIE CELEBRATION COMMIS-
SION, POSED FOR THE NATIONAL'S
PHOTOGRAPHER ON THE STEPS OK
THE IROQUOIS HOTEL

Piscataqua river. But a ghostly air
clung about the place, and I seemed to
see again the towering form of Witte,
a gigantic, picturesque figure in the fore-
ground of the conference, in marked

contast with the diminutive Japanese,
Takahira and Komura.

I crossed the ferry to the island where
the treaty had been signed and where
the envoys had been as remote and free
from disturbance as Robinson Crusoe
on his desert island, only these modern
Robinsons were not alone. Witte
had plenty of company. I recalled those
early days of the conference when blind
justice held her scales tipping first one
way and then the other and seemed un-
able to fix a balance. The Russians
were a melancholy lot at first, but they
were shrewdly adjusting themselves to
American conditions about them, and in
a short time it was evident to all that
in the Russian people is a temperament
closely allied to that of Americans. The
Japanese are our friends and we greatly
admire them, but beyond a certain point
there seems to be an impassable gulf
between us. We fail to understand the
Oriental fully, and they do not perfectly
understand us, but with the Russians it
is different.

Face to face around the table in diplo-
matic parley, the situation was different
from that on the fields of Manchuria.
What scenes the great new brick store
house witnessed after the long portieres
were closed and the conference began !
I stood beside the long table and in
imagination could see those rows of
faces confronting each other — like
armies, the one country ranged on one
side and the other on the opposite side
• — fighting for domain and money.

On the left side of this room were the
apartments occupied by the Japanese,
and on the right the rooms of the Rus-
sians. Just outside the conference room,
on the same floor, behind a wire netting,
the luncheon, or breakfast, as it was
called, was served on a table of which
the pedestals were massive, crouching
lions. After each meal the emissaries
were wont to gather for a quiet smoke
and chat. Here would be picturesque

SAULT STE. MARIE NAVAL PARADE COMING OUT OF POE LOCK

GOVERNOR FREDERICK M.
WARNER OF MICHIGAN, A
PROMINENT FIGURE IN THE
FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY CEL-
EBRATION AT SAULT STE.
MARIE IN AUGUST

CONGRESSMAN THEODORE BUR-
TON OF OHIO, CHAIRMAN OF
RIVERS AND HARBORS AND
THE PRINCIPAL SPEAKER AT
THE SAULT STE. MARIE ANNI-
VERSARY CELEBRATION

CHARLES T. HARVEY, THE
ENGINEER WHO BUILT THE
FIRST LOCK AT THE " SCO,"
AND WHO ACTED AS CHIEF
MARSHAL AT THE SEMI-CEN-
TENNIAL CELEBRATION

(121)

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

Witte, with his long Russian cigar-
ette, made longer still by a holder tipped
at an angle of forty-five degrees, em-
phasizing his remarks with a sturdy
blow of his fist on the table, indicating
the abundant physical as well as mental

force of the man.

Great credit is due to Secretary Pierce
for the manner in which this event was
managed. Do you realize that it was
the first time in all history that two for-
eign nations have been invited to make
peace in American and sign a treaty
in the English language, a tongue which
is spoken by neither of the parties to the
treaty? Note Mr. Witte 's signature in

dreds of thousands of lives, was termi-
nated by Uncle Sam at a total cost of
$15,000, and it has brought peace to the
warring nations and has also given both
the Occident and the Orient an idea of
the important part that the United States
must hereafter play in the affairs of the
world. A simple note, written by Theo-
dore Roosevelt to the Mikado and the
Czar — the impulse it may be of a mo-
ment—has had an influence upon all
time. The daring of our president has
indeed marked a new era in diplomatic
practices.

The treaty of peace was signed on
September 6, 1905, and will form a fas-
cinating study to the student of Ameri-

GOVERNOR BELL OF VERMONT AND GOVERNOR DOUGLAS OF MASSACHUSETTS,

WITH MISS BELL AND HER ATTENDANTS, AT THE LAUNCHING OF THE

BATTLESHIP VERMONT FROM THE FORE RIVER YARDS, QUINCY,

MASSACHUSETTS
From a photograph made for the Boston Herald

English and then in Russian. As time
recedes, the significance of the event will
assume larger proportions. A bloody
war, costing billions of dollars and hun-

can history for the future. It was a
a gigantic business transaction and con-
ducted on the American plan of quick
dispatch. The envoys arrived on August

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

123

LIEUTENANT GOVERNOR CURTIS GUILD OF MASSACHUSETTS, THE

REPUBLICAN NOMINEE FOR GOVERNOR OF THE OLD BAY STATE,

OPPOSING GENERAL CHARLES W. BARTLETT, DEMOCRAT

7, and the treaty was agreed upon
August 29. Less than one month
sufficed to complete the negotiations
which ended one of the bloodiest wars
known to modern history. It required
over three months to complete the
treaty of Paris, when the differences
between Spain and this country were
adjusted.

I left the navy yard and Portsmouth
feeling more than ever as though I had

been looking at a tented field, when all
the glory of the tinsel and the music
had departed. But as I drove through
the falling rain, along the fast darkening
roads, I felt more than ever that
America must hereafter tower among
the nations, as a gigantic and re-
sourceful power, fearless and invin-
cible, indeed, but desiring most of
all things peace on earth and
the good will of all mankind.

124

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

/CONGRESS, convening December i,

will be confronted with important

propositions. Regulation of railway

which the leaders of congress will thresh
out this Winter. The president un-
doubtedly believes a railway rate con-

rates; free trade — or lower tariffs — trol bill should be passed, and that life

SENATOR WILLIAM WARNER OF MISSOURI, THE FIRST OF HIS
FAITH TO REPRESENT MISSOURI IN THE SENATE SINCE
THE CIVIL WAR AND THE LATEST TO ENJOY A
NEWSPAPER BOOM FOR THE REPUBLICAN PRES-
IDENTIAL NOMINATION IN 1908
Photograph copyright 1005 by Clinedinst

for our Philippine dependencies; the
widely advertised — • perhaps over ad-
vertised— demand for a general revis-
ion of tariff schedules; the movement
for national supervision of life insur-
ance, substituting a single set of simple
but stringent federal . regulations for
a wide range of costly and some-
times contradictory state statutes gov-
erning the business of the life com-
panies— these are some of the things

insurance, as a form of interstate com-
merce, should come under federal super-
vision ; but it is probably not true that
he means to carry his advocacy of these
proposals to the length of disrupting his
party. Theodore Roosevelt always states
his views candidly — puts the question
before the people; then, if the people
really want progress in the line that is
indicated, they can get it by bringing
pressure upon senate and house to enact

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

125

their desire in law, when the president
stands ready to approve and execute it.
While the legislative branch of the
government has enjoyed a long vaca-
tion, the executive branch has been
busy. President Roosevelt has pre-
pared his budget. As one of the
congressmen remarked, "He has been
doing things this Summer." The in-
tellectual and aggressive strength and
energy of Theodore Roosevelt will brook
no cessation in pushing on for results.
History has been making rapidly during
the past few months. The executive

branch of the nation has at times, been
over-shadowed by congress and the judi-
ciary, but our forefathers were discreet in
balancing the treble functions of govern-
ment so that either the president, the
congress or the judiciary is able to
give partial expression to the voice
of the people — if one department fails
another takes up the lead.

The executive of this period has been
getting after the evils of grafting, and
all the portents now are that he means
to leave the house in order when he
retires in 1908. Speculation is rife

JOHN D. ROCKEFELLER AND HIS BODYGUARD STRIDING BRISKLY DOWN STREET

126

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

among public men who have been
watching the course of the ship of
state, as to whether the people will permit
President Roosevelt to carry out his ex-
pressed wishes in reference to retire-
ment. One thing is certain, he has set
a pace which it will be difficult for
even the best possible presidential tim-
ber to surpass. About the most inter-
esting speculation that is current during
the early days of the Autumn is as to
what should be done first. Party organ-
ization at this time is somewhat de-
moralized. The old time clannishness
of political parties seems to be dissolv-
ing. A new deal is on, and so far as
the president is concerned he insists
that it shall be a "square deal."

THE National Magazine office was
honored by a personal visit from
distinguished friends this Summer.

On receiving news of the visit of
Vice President Fairbanks to Boston, I
came home, put on my long skirted,
diplomatic robe, doffing my old office
jacket, and hurried to his hotel. We
went to drive along the beautiful fen-
ways and parks of Boston, where many
of the passers-by recognized his tower-
ing form. The vice president appeared
in splendid health, despite the story of
his illness at Sault Ste. Marie. In fact
he was the same gentle and genial soul
who inspired the significant remark
once made by McKinley as he looked
at the stalwart form of the senator:

"Tall presidential timber that!"

It was on that same hot August day
that Vice President Fairbanks and Mrs.
Fairbanks paid a visit to our office.
The lady occupied the editorial chair.
After having registered in the Na-
tional Visitors' Book, Vice Presi-
dent and Mrs. Fairbanks were shown
about the plant, and it was indeed
gratifying to show the concrete evidence
of our development to such appreciative

friends. Our equipment has nearly
doubled in the past two years, and
is certainly a substantial evidence of
growth. It is always a pleasure to
show subscribers and friends where we
"make things." If you are coming on
to Boston do not fail to make a call;
you can carry away a freshly printed
copy of the magazine, as the vice presi-
dent did.

They came on Saturday afternoon.
The machinery had stopped and the
workers gone home. At this time there
is something about the loneliness of the
office that fascinates me. The great
presses resting from their labors have
a majesty all their own. They have
had their Saturday's "extra clean up,"
prepared for Sabbath repose. The busy,
clicking stitchers and folders are quiet,
and the knives of the cutters no longer
thump up and down clipping sheets and
magazines neat and trim. The mallet
and planer lay inactive on the imposing
stones; the Simplex type-setting machine
no longer buzzes round to the tune
played by the busy fingers of the type-
setter. In the office proper the desks
show the character of the worker — some
have everything put carefully away from
the dust of next morning's sweeping,
while others are piled with papers, show-
ing traces of the occupant's haste to get
home. The statues stand about like
pale ghosts of the spirit of work, and
seem to welcome me when I am alone
of a Saturday afternoon — alone to think
and finish up the day's schedule.

Saturday afternoon means much to
me — a real holiday for work. On this
particular Saturday we had a rush of
extra work, and Sir John did not get
around to brush up the floor for Sunday
as usual. That is the time visitors
come — when things are a bit "noncha-
lant,"— at least so I am told. Our good
man came to me on Monday morning stat-
ing that the vice president's carriage had
been seen outside the office, and he
wondered if it could be possible that

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

127

GOVERNOR ALBERT B. CUMMINS OF IOWA, A LEADER OF THE MOVEMENT WITHIN

THE REPUBLICAN PARTY FOR REVISION OF TARIFFS AND FEDERAL CONTROL

OF RAILWAY RATE-MAKING, AND A RECEPTIVE CANDIDATE FOR

THE PRESIDENTIAL NOMINATION

I had permitted a distinguished visitor
to see our office when it was not in

first class order. The incident was a
warning to Sir John and he reflected.

128

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

/~VNE measure is coming before
congress this Winter with the mo-
mentum of a vigorous awakening. It
is the Good Roads bill. There has been
some active work done, and the uprising
of the farmers and general keen in-
terest in the proposition is going to
compel consideration. Good roads
mean good wages for good workers —
skilled, practical work. The trouble
has always been that road building has

features of our development; now for
decisive action. It is a disgrace that
such a public as our own should neglect
its property, and not provide passable
highways. The urgent necessity for good
roads has long since been demonstrated.
Some people remember the time when
wheat was worth thirty cents a bushel on
the prairies of Iowa? Why? Because there
was no way of bringing it to market.
When the people and the government

GENERAL VIEW OF THE BAMBOO AUDITORIUM IN SAN FERNANDO, PHILIPPINES,

WHERE A GREAT PUBLIC ASSEMBLY AND A BANQUET WERE HELD IN

HONOR OF THE VISIT OF SECRETARY TAFT'S PARTY OF VISITING

AMERICAN CONGRESSMEN AND OTHERS, INCLUDING

MISS ALICE ROOSEVELT
From a stereograph copyright 1003 by Underwood & Underwood

been thrown about from pillar to post
as a makeshift. Is it not time that the
American nation should get down to
business and seriously consider the fun-
damental fafctors in its growth? Every-
one has talked time and again that "good
roads"- are one of the most important

have proven capable of caring for the
highways they have possessed all these
years as public domain, it will be quite
time enough to discuss the feasibility of
government ownership of railways as a
practical proposition; until then, such
talk will not be very convincing.

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

129

A SCENE IN THE BANQUET HALL OF THE BAMBOO AUDITORIUM AT SAN FERNANDO

Miss Roosevelt is seated between the governor of the province and his wife. — Secretary Taft and Senator
Scott of West Virginia are enjoying something in the way of a joke, apparently, at the right end of
the front row of chairs. — Observe the portraits of Washington and Roosevelt adorning the walls.

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(130)

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

GENERAL CHARLES W. BARTLETT OF BOSTON, DEMOCRATIC NOMINEE FOR GOVERNOR
OF MASSACHUSETTS, OPPOSING CURTIS GUILD OF BOSTON, NOW LIEUTENANT GOVERN-
OR.— GENERAL BARTLETT IS ONE OF THE MOST BRILLIANT AND LOVABLE MEN AT
THE BAY STATE BAR AND WILL UNDOUBTEDLY MAKE A STRONG CAMPAIGN, WITH
EXCELLENT PROSPECTS OF SUCCEEDING ANOTHER DISTINGUISHED DEMOCRAT,
WM. L. DOUGLAS, AT THE STATE HOUSE ON BEACON HILL
Photograph by Chickering Boston

It is worth remarking that the con- during the coming session is going to

gressman who has agricultural constitu- have a "rough road to travel" at elec-

ents and does not take up a definite tion time. The hour is at hand when

position in this matter of good roads discussion must give way to action.

THE FIRST LADY OF CHINA

EMPRESS TS1-AN TERMED "A BISMARCK IN PETTICOATS
By Poultney Bigelow, M.A., F.R.G.S.

Author of "Children of the Nations," "History of the German Struggle for Liberty," etc.

MUNICH, BAVARIA

IN 1898, at the close of the Spanish-
American war, I stopped at Wei Hai
Wei in order to visit Admiral Seymour,
who had kindly offered me hospitality
on board his flagship, the Centurion.

The Boxer trouble was then brewing.
Each day brought rumor of uprisings,
decapitations and other signs of political
awakening in the neighborhood of Pekin.
Gunboats were congregated at the mouth
of the Peiho river, and from hour to
hour tidings of armed European inter-
vention were expected. For many weeks
the British admiral had lain at anchor
ignorant of who was at the head of the
Chinese state — whether the Emperor
Quang Su or the little Bismarck Queen.
The complete mystery which surrounded
the situation was only partially relieved
when in Shanghai arrived, under British
escort, one of the principal reformers,
who had barely escaped with his life
from the clutches of this fiery little lady.

It was an exciting time — at least Mr.
Bourne, the British consul, felt that
there were few dull moments in his day.
Everything pointed to a palace revolu-
tion likely to spread far beyond the pre-
cincts of the Forbidden City.

The Emperor Quang Su was five years
old on the occasion of my first visit to
Pekin in 1876 and was therefore twenty-
seven years of age at the time of my
second visit (1898.) The dowager em-
press was then sixty-four — of remark-
able physical vitality, as all may gather
for themselves by the vigorous manner
in which she reversed the edicts of the
emperor, cut off the heads of the would-
be reformers and took charge of the
Boxer question when it rose. That she

did it so successfully was because she
had been practicing this sort of thing
for the past half century — from the
Taaping rebellion to our day.

She made her debut into high Chinese
society as a concubine of the fifth class
for the Emperor Hien Feng, who as-
cended the throne in 1851. At that
time official China longed for an heir
to the throne, which commodity the
actual empress did not succeed in pro-
viding. But in 1856 this lady of the
fifth class in the hierarchy of foot warm-
ers did give a son to her lord in a man-
ner so satisfactory that in the following
year she was raised to the rank of em-
press, and from that day to this she has
maintained herself in all the honors that
were then heaped upon her. This ot
itself speaks volumes for her cleverness
and courage, for in no country is there
more regard for rank and precedence
than in China — and think what a jump
that was — from fifth class concubine to
first class empress!

This Emperor Hien Feng, when the
allied French and English forces in-
vaded the country in 1860, fled to Jehol
in Mongolia, where he had a Sumrif^
palace, and here he died in 1861 — some
think from the effect of wounded pride.

He left two empresses in charge of
affairs — the imperial empress, and the
concubine who had provided him with
an heir. It is interesting to pote that
this same concubine, after a lapse of
forty years, should again have had to
fly from Pekin in consequence of an
invasion of English, French and others,
approaching her capital over the same
road as their predecessors of 1860.

THE FIRST LADY OF CHINA

In 1860 French and English troops
between them managed to reduce the
marvelous Summer Palace of Yuen Min
Yuen to a heap of ruins. In 1900 there
was no such destruction but a good deal
of incidental looting. That there was
not more was owing not so much to
Christian soldiers as to the Japanese,
who throughout this latter campaign set
an example of moderation as well as
courage.

The two empresses returned from their
involuntary stay at Jehol on November
i, 1861, and immediately carried out
a coup d'etat in which the dowager con-
cubine first showed to the world that
Napoleon III had much to learn from
his colleagues in the Far East — even in
the matter of a coup d'etat.

She called the council of state together
and read them a paper purporting to
represent the mature deliberations of her
six year old son — this edict suspended
previous arrangements concerning the
regency of this child and made her
regent along with the other imperial
empress and Prince Kung. In fact it
made her virtual ruler of China, and
as this was, for many reasons into which
I need not here enter, contrary to the
constitution governing in such cases, it
made an immense uproar in the immedi-
ate neighborhood of the palace.

But the concubine mother was equal
to the occasion. The three who ven-
tured to protest against her arrangements
were two imperial princes and the secre-
tary of state, Su Shuen. The princes
were permitted to hang themselves,
while the public executioner cut off the
head of the secretary of state on Novem-
ber 8, 1861 — only a week after the
return to Pekin.

This was all very sudden, and from
the standpoint of the constitutional law-
yer, very unjust. But Europeans, at
least, had little reason to complain, for
the people who were put out of the way
on this occasion were of the ultra con-
servative Chinese class whose main

notion of statesmanship is to exclude
foreign ideas from the country.

This empress mother could not be,
amongst us, regarded as an advanced
liberal in politics. It gives us some
standard by which to gauge the con-
servative Chinaman that this particular
lady should in her own country have
been regarded as a dangerous radical, if
not a revolutionary brand.

She has that rare quality of statesman-
ship which consists in limiting our
efforts to attain, not a theoretical ideal
but the best that is possible under given
circumstances. She was, fortunately for
China, from a social circle more in touch
with real things than those bred in the
bosom of court life. She brought to her
task superb physical health, much tact,
good sense, energy and ambition. Such
a person, after having been chased from
Pekin with the emperor by troops offi-
cially pronounced to be harmless, was
•not likely to return to her official post
without new ideas on the invulnerability
of official residences. Whatever the
bulk of Chinese peasantry might think
touching the cowardice and helplessness
of the "foreign devils," she at least
recognized on their side a power with
which she would have in the future to
reckon; and while she might share with
others of her race a cordial distaste for
white man's domination in China, she
was equally convinced that the white
man can be fought only with the white
man's weapons, and that therefore China
must steadily work toward a higher level
of material if not intellectual or moral
civilization.

Her violent veto to the reform plans
of the emperor in 1898 sprang not so
much from her innate Chinese conserva-
tism as from a profound, statesmanlike
appreciation of the fact that a reform so
sweeping as had been planned would be
followed by a corresponding reaction. It
was her duty, she argued, to march
WITH her people; not too far in ad-
vance of them.

J34

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

And anyone who has seen the China
of 1860 and has been able to compare
it with the China of today cannot but
note immense progress — relatively speak-
ing. And at the same time, knowing
the great powers which have been
wielded by this little Bismarck in petti-
coats, it would be wholly unfair not to
credit her with a full share in the good
work that has been done during her
reign — or dominion, or whatever word
is best fitted to describe an ascendency
so complete.

The great power she has ever exerted
is owing, of course, mainly to her own
innate force of will and capacity for
work. She was fortunate in having no
serious rivals in her field. Prince Kung
was of a slothful and pleasure loving
nature, and cheerfully allowed the ener-
getic empress mother to indulge her
passion for work — a passion which dis-
tinguishes her preeminently.

Looking back over Chinese history of
the past half century we can but wonder
that the vast empire held together under
the repeated blows which it received.
That it held together even tolerably will
remain as a monument to the energy
and the sense of this lady.

In 1861 the Taiping rebellion, which
had risen in 1850, was still a menace to
the Pekin government, particularly in
conjunction with the European wars of
1858 and 1860. The Taiping emperor
held court at Nanking and his forces
were plundering and killing up and
down the valley of the Yangtse. Even
as late as 1876, when I applied for a
pass to travel in the interior of China,
I had to promise the Chinese authorities
that I would have no dealings with the
rebels — and this sixteen years after the
outbreak of the rebellion!

In Yunnan, a province on the edges
of Thibet and Burmah, there had broken
out in 1856 a serious Mahomedan insur-
rection, which, along with the Tai Ping
and the foreign invasions, kept the
Pekin administration pretty busy, at

least with plans for future residence in
case any one of these troubles should
affect the Pekin palace. In the general
condition of helplessness and imbecility
that permeated official China, the little
empress regent saw her opportunity, and
compelled obedience even amongst those
who read in Confucius many paragraphs
intended to discourage women from leav-
ing the nursery.

In 1864 the Taiping rebellion closed
by the capture of Nanking and the sui-
cide of the pretender. In 1872 the
Mahomedan uprising, which had spread
immensely since 1856, came to an end.
The rebellious sultan Soliman poisoned
himself and his head was brought in
triumph to Pekin. While I was in
China the last of the rebels on the
Turkestan border were being dispersed.
Thus for the first twenty-six years of
her life at court she had been receiving
the rare education which comes from
discussing and carrying out measures for
the safety of a state in extreme dan-
ger. She had ample opportunity, before
her accession to actual dominion in
1861, to measure the relative feebleness
of the different officials who pretended
to help the government — and she must
have been weak indeed if she did not
draw courage from the complete break-
down of the remedies proposed by legis-
lators whose only knowledge of the
world was represented by thousands of
second hand maxims memorized parrot
fashion from the so called Classics.

One must have lived in China to
appreciate the huge task that this little
empress has accomplished — the task of
holding the country together, of holding
at bay the nations of Europe who have
been persistently urging upon her re-
forms that might endanger her throne
by precipitating civil war.

In 1873, when Quang Su was two years
old, the Emperor Tung Chi ascended the
throne and immediately was made to
feel the force of the lady's hand. For
in 1874 he proposed to restore the

THE FIRST LADY OF CHINA

'35

famous Summer Palace which had been
destroyed in 1860. Germans and French
insist that the destruction was at Eng-
lish hands. English officers who were
in the campaign have assured me that
the French alone were responsible for
that outrage.

At any rate, in 1874, the co-regent
Kung opposed the project of the Em-
peror Tung Chi on the score of expense.
This displeased his imperial highness,
who immediately degraded the co-regent
from a first class to a second class
prince. But on the very next day the
emperor was compelled by the com-
mands of this little empress dowager
to reinstate the prince in all his honors.
That was the only time that this particu-
lar emperor attempted to test his right
to govern. It was a dramatic and instan-
taneous failure. He died in 1879 an^
was succeeded by the present emperor
Quang Su, at the age of eight — he was
born 1871, — the same day as Napoleon
III — August 15 — and in the year of
Napoleon's complete extinction.

The accession of Quang Su gave rise
to immense difficulties, for there was
much in the court law touching his birth
and parentage which conflicted with
orthodox Chinese reasoning. It would
be a complicated narrative to unravel
this here, but suffice it to say that the
little dowager desired Quang Su, and
there he is. One lofty official ventured
to protest on grounds of precedent, but
he promptly went and hung himself — and
his views did not spread.

Today the only serious objection to
Quang Su is that he has not yet pre-
sented his country with a successor —
and in the eyes of the true Chinaman
this is a serious defect.

From this and the other causes, good
Chinamen are apt to shake their heads
over Quang Su. His reign has been full
of calamity — the French war. the war
with Japan, the Boxer uprising, a fire
in the palace, the partial destruction of
the famous Temple of Heaven in Pekin,

the loss of Kiao Chow, Wei Hai Wei
and Port Arthur — nearly everything that
he has done has been, by the old school
Chinaman, traced to certain unorthodox
circumstances attending his accession —
notably to his not having given the
country a child successor.

But the climax of his wickedness ap-
peared to have been reached when, in
1898, he actually attempted to minimize
the importance of the Chinese sages by
compelling state officials to know some-
thing more of science than what is con-
tained in the tomes of Confucius. Per-
haps it will illustrate the conservatism of
the Chinese official mind if I mention
that on the occasion of a visit to the
Jesuit mission of Zikawei I was shown
the drill regulations of the Chinese army
— a work then more than 2,000 years old.

The little lady Bismarck is, in her
way, a reformer — so she says. But she
begs you to bear in mind that she has
to accomplish the reformation not
merely of her sisters and cousins about
the palace, but some 300,000,000 of
Chinamen who regard innovation and
iniquity as interchangeable terms.

While I was in China in 1876, I had
a pretty picture of Chinese conservatism
as interwoven with dislike of the for-
eigner. In that year was laid a railway
connecting Shanghai with the mouth of
the Woosung river, a distance of some
eighteen miles. This railway was of im-
mense importance to the trading com-
munity, for many ships anchored at
Woosung and lightered there and it was
of obvious necessity to have rapid and
frequent communication between the
anchorage and the town. Under a
variety of pretexts, however, this rail-
way was suppressed, bought up by the
government, the machinery was carried
to Formosa and there was dumped on
to the beach, where it still marks the
eccentric character of Chinese develop-
ment.

This was done ostensibly to allay
popular clamor — to propitiate the dead

136

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

who could not rest while the surface of
the earth was profaned by the machinery
of foreign devils.

But the Chinaman is not half so care-
ful of his gods and manes as some
would have us think, for in the next
year, 1877, Li Hung Chang found no
difficulty in giving to a Chinese com-
pany a concession for a railway which
opened up some mines in which he was
interested. This railway was subse-
quently expanded into the present sys-
tem connecting Pekin with the sea. We
may reasonably conclude that the Chi-
nese objected to the railway at Shanghai
not so much because it disturbed the
repose of Chinese spirits as that this
repose was being disturbed under
European auspices. The religious ele-
ment found no fault with a railway
when controlled by Chinamen — and
since that railway has proved of com-
mercial value and was not followed by
calamity we may reasonably look to the
day when we shall buy a ticket direct
from Canton to Pekin and thence across
the Great Wall to Europe. The railway
that was destroyed and shipped to For-
mosa in 1876 was reopened for traffic in
1898, and this time no one heard any-
thing about offended spirits.

The little Bismarck lady was right —
she wanted railways, but she wanted the
public mind prepared for them, that"
there might not be riots connected with
their construction.

The little lady ?s now seventy-one
years old, and naturally disposed to
repose. She may have many more years
to live, for, measured by the standard
of Queen Victoria and Bismarck and
old Emperor William, she is but at the
beginning of her career. But should
the war in Manchuria prove to be the
last great event in her reign, we
must yet look upon the last fifty years
of her life as embracing a series of
events no less vital to her own
people than the notable features
of Queen Victoria's reign have

been to the development of our race.

At the age of seventeen, in the year
1851, she became the concubine of an
emperor and as such an influence in the
ruling of his empire. Since that day
has happened almost every great event
that has profoundly modified the posi-
tion of China toward the outside world.
She has lived to see ports like Hong-
kong and Shanghai develop from insig-
nificant trading stations to commercial
centers rivaling London and New York.
Shanghai, which even in 1876 was a
purely trading community, is today a
city of factory chimneys conspicuous
from afar. In Hongkong today there
are factories of almost every descrip-
tion, and notably ship yards where iron
steamers are being continually launched.
This little imperial lady has seen her
country people not only learn manufac-
turing trades from Europeans in China,
but she has seen them erect factories
of their own and run them in competi-
tion with Europeans. She has seen the
junk give way to the steamer on Chinese
waters and has seen Chinamen manag-
ing and operating steamship lines. She
has, in short, seen the transformation of
her country from mediaevalism to mod-
ernity. She has seen within the few
years of her lifetime such progress in
material ways as few men vi-ould have
dared prophesy in the year that she first
took the reins of government.

This transformation could not have
been made had she opposed it with the
vigor of which we know her capable.
To be sure, the portion of China
affected by modern ways is not very
great, but still the modern ways are
there. We have sent them a sample
and they seem pleased with it. Much
of this transformation has occurred be-
tween the occasion of my two visits, and
if we limited ourselves to merely noting
that which has happened between 1876
and 1898, we have a change almost as
extraordinary as that which came over
Europe through the use of steam for

THE FIRST LADY OF CHINA I37

transportation at the beginning of the ahead of the people. If the people do
nineteenth century. The thing has been not see their leaders they get lost."
done in China. It has been done under China advances slowly— it has
this little Bismarck lady, and without been advancing for some ten thou-
her it could not have been done. We sand years — and it has yet far to go.
white people have shown much impa- Cihna has much to learn from the
tience at her not having done more and western nations, but western nations
done it more speedily, but the little lady have also much to learn from an em-
has always replied with a smile: "It is pire that has seen the birth, bloom and
not well for a government to get too far burial of many a white man's nation.

A DREAM MOTHER

By Edith Richmond Blan chard

PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND

SOMETIMES at night when I have been quite good,
•^ When I have done no naughty thing all day
Nurse tells my mother and she lets me wait
To watch her dress before she goes away.

I sit beside the table with a glass
Where all the pretty silver things are spread;

I sit so very quiet for I know
That noisy folks are sent away to bed.

And when my mother's shiny gown of white

Is all put on, I lean above the stair
And watch her sweep a-rustling down ; oh then

My little room seems very dim and bare.

But when I've said my prayers and nurse has gone,
I shut my eyes and dream a dream I've made;

I dream my mother comes back through the dark
To sit with me because I am afraid.

I dream she wears her silky gown, and yet
She takes me in her arms and holds me there;

I dream she sings me songs beneath her breath,
And all the while her cheek is on my hair.

I never know just when the singing ends,
Just when the dear dream lady slips away, —

But when I wake, my mother has returned
And I must not be noisy at my play.

THE WAY TO THE NORTH POLE

A REVIEW OF RECENT EXPEDITIONS AND A REITERATION

By Captain Arthur N. McGray

" The return of the Ziegler-Fiala expedition is a great demonstration of how not to do it." — Bust™ Tramcrift.

NEARLY three years ago I pointed out in the National Magazine "the way to
the Pole," and stated most emphatically that the only practicable way to reach
it was along the lines adopted by DeLong and Nansen, which were to force a pas-
sage as far as possible into the ice north of the New Siberian islands, and, once
"fast" in the great polar pack, be carried north in it by the current which sweeps
in through Behring strait, along the Arctic coast of Siberia, until meeting the enor-
mous volume of the Lena — (which is prevented from taking a westerly course by
the Gulf Stream influence, that is constantly forced against its left hand wall of
waters) — causes both the former currents to combine and turn sharply to the north.
It is now known of a certainty that these currents run directly across the Pole —
unless prevented by land existing there, in which event they merely sweep around
its eastern coast and continue on their way to the Atlantic through the gulf between
northeast Greenland and northwest Spitzbergen, as proven by the drift of Nansen's
"Fram."

Therefore, since it is KNOWN that this is the path of the waters from the
polar basin to the Atlantic, and since the polar pack is dependent upon this current
for its movement and direction — it follows that a ship engrasped in this ice, at
the right point at the beginning of the drift, would also be* carried across the polar
basin, near by or directly to the Pole, and that undertaking to approach it from any
other direction is "climbing up hill," or working against all natural forces; and this
in a region and climate where almost any work at all is practically a protest against
common sense. Surely polar exploration presents sufficient field of labor without
multiplying it by "climbing " when success is a proposition in "sliding."

Allow me to illustrate: In a certain country place, years ago, there was reserved
a large plot upon which the people occasionally gathered to witness certain sports.
Prizes were offered for competition. Among the prizes was one for him who should
"first slide down from the top" of a tall, bare pole, which was coated with grease.
Not far from this pole stood a young sapling. As the years went by this sapling
became a sturdy tree with long branches, and finally one of these over reached the
greased pole. Hundreds of competitors had been vanquished in attempting this
task — none had succeeded. At last a bright young fellow bethought him that the
prize was for him who "slid down" the pole, and he forthwith ascended the sapling
of former days, swung out on its branches, grasped the top of the greased pole and
slid down to victory. That sapling was KNOWLEDGE.

All honor to those who lost in the attempt while the sapling was still small and
weak — but it is told that to this day some gather about the old pole as in former
times, refuse the sapling's proffered aid and continue to climb and fall, until, weary
and exhausted, they turn homeward defeated.

So with polar investigation. Years of experiment and defeat have taught us
much, yet there are those who began or were nurtured along the old lines and still
hold to them in face of the inexorable law, which has defied every invader and
claimed its victims by the thousand.

THE WAY TO THE NORTH POLE 139

Since I last wrote on this subject, three important events have transpired in
the North.

The Fiala-Ziegler expedition has returned from the Franz Joseph Land base,
from which it was intended to operate toward the Pole, leaving their stout whaling
ship "America" crushed and sunken to the bottom, while its crew, ponies and dogs
made their way southward over the ice to inhospitable islands, where, when almost
exhausted, they found a store of supplies, cached by a former expedition, and there
passed a miserable existence for fifteen or eighteen months, until by chance one
relief ship — out of three sent to find them — picked up the crew and returned them
to the world. This expedition had behind it more money than any other ever fitted
out, but the lessons of the past were ignored, in that the ship was of the wrong
model and of unsubstantial build to withstand polar ice pressure, and it was pushed
into the ice at a place where it was certain the ice drift would carry it away from,
rather than toward, the Pole.

It is fortunate the "America" was crushed so early in the voyage — while land was
still near enough to enable the members of the crew to reach it; for had she sur-
vived a few months longer the drift would have carried her west and south so far
that return to any region of cached provision would have been precluded, and the
whole reason-blind expedition would have disappeared forever.

Ill

Lieutenant Peary has gone north again. His expedition can accomplish little,
if anything. In it are involved more problems and uncertainties than any hitherto
attempted. First, he has the most expensive ship ever used for Arctic purposes;
but outside the sentiment of bearing a charmed name it has worse than nothing to
recommend it for safety against heavy ice pressure. Very heavy hardwood timber-
ing throughout is a feature of the ' ' Roosevelt. ' ' Hundreds of tons of it, supplemented
by a duplicate system of steam generators, extremely heavy engines, and an
immense«quantity of coal and supplies. In itself, this equipment stands for the
reverse of failure; but success entirely depends upon the model of the craft bearing
the load.

A blunt wedge driven into an unyielding log (the ice pressure) immediately
flies into the air, while a long, thin wedge, driven into the same log, is bound
itself to yield just in proportion to the weight of the blow, or load, behind it.
Hence, a strongly constructed ship, carrying light weights in engines and stores,
and almost saucer shaped in the bottom, as was Nansen's "Fram," readily lifted with
every ice pressure and for nearly three years withstood the heaviest and most
northern ice ever penetrated. The "Fram" was a blunt wedge. The "Roosevelt" is
the opposite. Sharp in the bottom, overloaded with coal and machinery, it will
crush before it will rise. Commander Peary's plans do not contemplate a long
drift of his ship in the ice fields of the North, thereby subjecting it to frequent,
enormous or long continued ice pressures, although supposedly this ship was
designed and strengthened to meet such eventualities, for it is improbable that any
ship may round Cape Hecla and return without a "squeeze." The Roosevelt may,
and I trust will be, fortunate in steering clear of extreme pressures and safely reach
the harbor in Grant Land, latitude eighty-three degrees fifteen minutes, from which
Peary intends to operate as a base, with dogs, sleds and Esquimaux, over the 400
miles of ice between it and the Pole. There are, however, many reasons for

HO NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

asserting that if the Roosevelt is fortunately steered clear of maximum pressures in
the sea north of Robeson Channel, we may expect it to be caught in the easterly
moving pack; and if not forced ashore by it between Cape Brevoort and Cape Wash-
ington, that the ship will be carried out past the northeast cape of Greenland and
thence southeastward toward open water, where it would release itself, and we
might first expect to hear from Commander Peary at Iceland or northern Norway
ports, recoaling for the homeward voyage.

That the great explorer is attacking the Pole from the wrong side is well
known by everyone acquainted with later day experiences in that region, and
although he has reached Etah, in latitude seventy-eight degrees, twenty minutes,
secured the services of twenty of the pick of the Smith Sound Indians, or Esqui-
maux and 200 dogs, and proceeded north, one cannot but feel that unless he meets
fairly open water at the outset, thereby making rapid progress toward Cape Colum-
bia, that the Esquimaux, who are the mainstay of the expedition, may play -an
exceptional part in defeating its object.

Captain Samuel Bartlett of the sealing ship "Erick" (which preceded Peary
to Etah, arranged for the men and dogs, and discharged a cargo of coal at the
Cape Sabine depot, as previously agreed upon, so that the "Roosevelt" might
refill its bunkers before proceeding north, and also to refill as often as it might be
forced back to that base) said, on his return to St. John's, Newfoundland, the other
day, that the ice condition north of Sabine appeared unfavorable for making much
progress this season; which means that this veteran of navigation in Greenland
waters considers it extremely probable that Peary will be obliged to return to Etah
and winter there. This would be the wiser course to pursue in case he could not
force a passage through Kennedy or Robeson channels before "dark."

The wisdom of this becomes more apparent when we remember that Lee's
Census of 1875 gave the Smith Sound Indians a population of 140 males and 113
females, or a total of 253. In August, 1897, the population had decreased to 234,
and it would not be surprising to learn that the present population does not exceed
175; and when twenty picked men are taken from this number, the backbone of the
colony is gone, and disaster to the "Roosevelt" would mean the annihilation of the
tribe.

While the Esquimaux do not possess brilliant intellects, and while they have
worked faithfully for Commander Peary on his previous daylight voyages, or sledge
journeys, it is a question whether they will consent to remain away from wives and
sweethearts over two or three long nights and cheat themselves of the rest and com-
fort they had anticipated at the close of their day's work of six months. The dogs
and sleds are theirs — at their command. If they become weary of the monotony
of the voyage, or the slow progress being made, who is to say them nay if they
decide to return? Their means of exit is always at hand — dogs, sleds and the foot
ice of the northern Greenland coast. Should this occur, a new crew could not be
obtained, for there is only one crew of able bodied men in the tribe.

If, however, everything should go on as Peary has planned, and his ship reach
a harbor this Fall near Cape Columbia, so that a start may be made over the ice
early next March, it is almost certain the southward drifting ice would prevent his
reaching near the Pole. A polar continent, or archipelago, northwest of Cape
Hecla, in the existence of which I strongly believe, affords the only possible
element of success in Peary's dogs and sledge undertaking. Progress can always
be made, while food holds out, along the foot ice of new and perhaps interesting
lands where every mile traveled is one nearer the goal; but out on the limitless

THE WAY TO THE NORTH POLE 141

southbound ice fields — knowing that your very road is running against you, like
a horse in a treadmill — and that every moment of rest or sleep is taking you back
and imposing double work — the distance is too great and. the heart and strength
of man all insufficient to the task.

The Duke of Orleans, on board the "Belgica" at Reikjavik, a few weeks ago,
said that his polar expedition sailed around Cape Bismarck in Nova Zembla,
attained a latitude of seventy-eight degrees, sixteen minutes, skirted the coasts of
Franz Joseph Land and Spitzbergen, visited Iceland and sailed away to the south-
east. Much interest had attended the advent of the wealthy Duke of Orleans into
the field of polar work — particularly as his cousin, the Duke of Abruzzi, bears the
distinction of having made the "Farthest North," latitude eighty-six degrees,
thirty-three minutes, in a quick and rapid dash over the ice from Franz Joseph
Land in the Summer of 1900, and returning to Norway the same Autumn. His was
a fine piece of work in point of covering distance over the ice fields. Apparently
no scientific research or discoveries were attempted. Fine weather and an excep-
tionally favorable condition of the ice pack made possible a quick dash north
beyond previous record points, attaining which, by nineteen miles, and aglow with
success therefrom, they right-about-faced and hurried back to the "Stella Polare"
before any changes in the ice condition took place, to cut off or prolong the voyage
of retreat. Good luck acted as a consort all the way north and back again to this
expedition.

Fiala now announces that two ways are open to the Pole — first, by sending one
ship north each succeeding year to act as a base for the previous year's ship to fall
back upon, and says that it would probably take ten ships and ten years to reach
the Pole; second, by the drift method, for which a ship must be so strongly built
that it cannot be crushed — in other words, that instead of being crushed, it would
crush the ice.

There is nothing to support his first plan. Starting from any point in the
Franz Joseph or King Oscar Lands archipelago, the first ship would be pushed
north into the ice pack until its progress became arrested. Once fast in the
pack, the ship becomes a part of it, and both are then the servants of the south-
westerly current, and with no power to cross it — which they must do to reach the
Pole — they necessarily go with it to the open Atlantic, the goal of all Arctic ice
fields. The second ship would follow the course of the first, and each addition to
the fleet that of its predecessor. His second plan, that of DeLong and Nansen, is
thoroughly practicable, but, like theirs, lacks scope. The "one ship" plan of reach-
ing the Pole always has and always will prove abortive, when not disastrous.

At least five such ships — ten would be far better — must start on the
drift AT THE SAME TIME, from off the New Siberian Islands, being lined up
east and west from twenty to thirty miles apart. Thus fast In the pack,
nothing can prevent some one or more of them drifting to or very close to
the North Pole.

The western ship In the series would enter the pack at approximately
the same point as did Nansen In his "Fram " on September 23, 1893, thus in-
suring in advance the route and return of that particular ship, thereby
establishing a base of confidence and assurance, as well as a certain depot of
retreat for the crews of all the other ships, of which perchance some might
be forced against the shore of the polar lands now unknown but which

142 NATIONAL "MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

doubtless exist. And last, with free communication by wireless telegraph
between them all, and the short distance separating any two of the fleet
precluding loss of life, the discovery of the Pole, with all Its hidden
meaning, would be a certainty.

During the past few years I have met and corresponded with many of the best
and most experienced authorities on the subject of polar investigation. Without
scepticism or dissent, my plans have met with unanimous and enthusiastic approval.

The voyage of the "Fram" presents positive evidence that a good, seaworthy
ship, provided with light yet sufficient propelling power, and absolutely proof
against ice pressure, can readily be produced and equipped in every particular for
less than $150,000. The experience of the "Fram" during its three years' drift
with the polar pack renders slight modifications in build desirable, though in size,
weight and equipment she was not far from ideal.

P. T. McGrath, in the July number of the Review of Reviews, says that 4,000
human lives, 200 ships and $100,000,000 have been sacrificed in fruitless attempts
to reach the North Pole. It is true that human knowledge has been increased by
these attempts, but the price has been a most exorbitant one. It indicates that
individual effort counts for little in that inhospitable field. The size of the expedi-
tion must be adequate to the obstacles confronting it — and the concerted action of
several ships and crews, under one commanding officer, must solve the polar
problem.

Outside of national sentiment and satisfying curiosity, I believe the solving of
that problem offers the greatest of all great or epoch making prizes, for there
are men of high scientific standing today who feel, though they dare scarcely
whisper it, that futurity holds for this old earth of ours a far mightier function than
producing food and raiment for short lived man, plus revolving once in twenty-four
hours on the two ice bound poles of its axis.

But! As I was saying — the discovery is worth the cost — about one million
dollars. There are over a thousand men and women in America who could each
fit out and defray the entire expense of the undertaking — winning for themselves
a name, fame and everlasting monument, without the cost causing them a moment's
consideration.

Articles of an association, to be composed of leading explorers, scientists and
engineers from every part of the globe, are now being drawn. Together they will
elaborate fill details for the successful and comparatively easy undertaking of
wresting from nature the secret of the North Pole. It is to be hoped that the task
of securing the necessary funds will not prove greater than reaching that point, from
which every direction is South.

One port, methought, alike they sought

One purpose hold where'er they fare ;
O bounding breeze, O rushing seas,

At last, at last unite them there !

— Arthur Hugh Clough

THE ENEMY

By Mary L. Cummings

WORCESTER, MASSACHUSETTS

it P\ON'T — you — throw — any — more —
L/ tin — cans — into — this — yard."

Miss Pritchard leaned over the railing
of her back piazza, looked fixedly at
Louis Philippe, and emphasized each
word separately with one formidable,
extended forefinger.

He stood on the top of a bank which
marked the boundary line between a
small, elevated lot surrounding a rented
cottage of proportionate dimensions and
Miss Pritchard's hitherto immaculately
kept land, regarding her with eyes that
were light brown pools of innocence.
One hand swung two tin wheels and a
bent axle — all that remained of a gaily
painted cart — backward and forward
rhythmically.

"Quoi que tu dis?" The small,
slightly protruding upper teeth re-
vealed themselves in the lisped, child-
ish French.

"You needn't 'too dee' me," and Miss
Pritchard shook her head at him, "for
I don't understand a word of your frivol-
ous language. But I know this — that I
have something to do from morning till
night besides picking up rubbish from
this yard, and I won't have it — do you
hear?"

Having relieved her mind, regardless
of whether he understood or not, she
stalked to the piazza steps, where "Jum-
bles," a veritable pretzel-tailed pug, sat
sunning himself after his midday meal;
tucked the dog under her arm and
started for the back door. Louis Phil-
ippe's crowning offence, beside which
the onslaught of tin cans sank into
insignificance, was a consuming ambi-
tion to send a pebble through the allur-
ing curl of Jumbles' tail. But the missile
usually missed its mark, and, to Miss
Pritchard's intense indignation, struck
the easier target of the pug's fat, panting
side.

A change gradually took place in the
child's face while he watched the move-
ments of his next door neighbor. His
small nose wrinkled itself until the lifted
upper lip revealed the white teeth still
more plainly. His whole body seemed
to quiver with anticipated mischief.
The hand which held the bent wheels
swung more strenuously until — wilfully
or not — it unclosed suddenly, and, with
a thud, the wreck fell into Miss Pritch-
ard's yard. Louis Philippe snorted
like a war horse ready for the fray and
pointed one derisive finger at Jumbles.

"Oh, Jean Baptis' — pourquoi ?

Oh, Jean Baptis' — pourquoi ?

Oh, Jean Baptis' — pourquoi you gr-r-ease

My li'l dog's nose vit tar-r ? "

He turned on his heel with a debonair
swing at the close of the chanted ditty.
Miss Pritchard stood perfectly still, her
lips set in a thin, straight line. The
situation had passed beyond mere words.
One moment she stared rigidly at the
small, swaggering back and retreated
into the house.

There she fell into a chair to think
this problem out. It was intolerable
that the quiet of her surroundings should
be broken into as it had been since the
advent of those people next door. Not
that she saw much of Germonde pere
and mere. They, like two anxious young
parent birds, set out each morning on
a rather pathetic bread winning quest,
leaving their small son in charge of a
little maid, who, with half a hundred
other little maids, had been shipped to
Canada by a Paris orphanage and
thenceforth was expected to "earn her
board and keep" unaided.

In the easy way which the affairs of
new comers become known in a small
city, Miss Pritchard learned that Louis
Germonde, senior, had taken a room in
a semi-business block, which, with the

144

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

addition of a rented piano, one small
rug, a portiere and a plaster cast of
Beethoven, aspired to the title of "music
studio." Little Mrs. Germonde was
making a canvass of the town, exhibit-
ing her water color sketches, and, as
a side issue, seeking pupils.

About the first person on whom she
called was Miss Pritchard. She had
heard that madame was a member of
the First Church. Madame's influence
and patronage would be invaluable — if
she would be so kind. Miss Pritchard,
who regarded anyone born outside the
state of Massachusetts with a tinge of
pity, and all foreigners with suspicion,
sat very straight on her horsehair chair.
More than once while Madeline Ger-
monde displayed her sketches the elder
woman's eyes raised themselves propiti-
atingly to the portraits of her Puritan
ancestors. The things were pretty, if
frivolous.

"These are copies of gems, by our
best modern masters," the little woman
urged with a pretty gesture of the hands.
Miss Pritchard put the modern mas-
ters aside with a movement that was
scarcely appreciative and touched a
pulsing little water color of an orchard
in full bloom. An orchard — in full
bloom! For an instant a throb of pain
beat in her throat and she almost felt
the falling blossoms again upon her face.
Her eyes looked back thirty years into
eyes which had taught her the meaning
of two terrible words — happiness and
humiliation.

She recalled herself with a jerk and
stood up.

"I don't wish for any of them," she
said harshly, but the harshness was for
that old hurt to herself and not to the
little woman before her.

With a bravely suppressed sigh, Made-
line Germonde bundled up her rejected
wares. She had hoped much from the
patronage of this neighbor who had two
such immense advantages — comparative
prosperity and unquestionable respecta-

bility. Miss Pritchard's endorsement
would have given her a sure footing in
Plattville, and shortened the woefully
protracted quest for bread.

Whether Louis Philippe fully under-
stood his mother's rueful recital of her
visit to their neighbor and its result is
not certain. One fact was quite clear
to him, however — she had hurt
"maman," and thenceforward was an
enemy with whom it was permissible
to do battle on every available occa-
sion. At the very first opportunity he
yielded gladly to the long assailing
temptation of experimenting with a
pebble on Jumbles' tail, and the bom-
bardment of tin cans commenced.

The neighbor rose from her unsolved
problem with a sigh as the back door
bell rang. She stood at bay, looking
through the glass at the small figure
outside in its outgrown, baby toboggan
suit. The little face had undergone
another change. There was a "do or
die" look on it which piqued Miss
Pritchard's curiosity. Very cautiously
she opened the door a few inches — not
wide enough to admit a tin can, she
speculated with thankfuless, for the
child held his hands behind him.

Through the aperture a small hand
thrust itself which, unclosing suddenly,
displayed two' chestnuts. Miss Pritch-
ard's lips twitched as she looked from
the set, childish face to the peace offer-
ing and back again. Then she took the
proffered gift from the open palm, and
Louis Philippe, feeling that he had per-
formed the whole duty of childhood,
scrambled down the steps, one at a
time, and up the opposite bank, singing,
in a burst of conscious virtue:

"Oui, je vais, oui je vais m'en aller aux

Cieux !

Oui, je vais, oui je vais m'en aller aux
Cieux ! "

After that this prominent member of
the First Church actually unbent suffi-
ciently to watch the morning departure
of the Germondes with interest, and to

THE ENEMY

feel sorry for a wistful little face pressed
against the glass to catch the last wave
of his mother's hand.

She rose one day from her post of
observation near the window with an
impatient movement. "If she isn't
still wearing that little drab cloth jacket
that she wore in September!" she mut-
tered tersely. "And he — does the young
fool want to leave his child fatherless?
— going without an overcoat in this
freezing weather! I wonder — " she
stopped short in the center of the room
— "I wonder if he has an overcoat?"

Later in the day another fact forced
itself through the selfish veil of petty
church and household duties which en-
veloped Miss Pritchard.

"Unless they got it in at night — and
then I'd have heard it — they haven't
had any coal since that first half ton,"
she speculated.

A train of disquietude had been
started in her mind which grew with
time. She experienced that nervous
shock with which vague uneasiness
passes into certainty, next morning.

"She does not walk as briskly," she
thought, with an indefinite sense of
shortcoming on her own part that was
as new as it was disquieting.

Everything seemed to bring a fresh
stab of conviction that day. Louis
Philippe, playing half heartedly in the
yard, raised a pinched face when Bebe,
the little mission maid, called him.
Miss Pritchard looked hopefully for the
onslaught which did not come, and
finally resorted to an experiment by
putting the protesting Jumbles out of
doors. There he shivered over the
frozen ground for ten minutes while
his mistress watched proceedings anx-
iously from behind her lace curtains.

"If he'd only throw one little pebble
— just one, I wouldn't think things were
quite so bad with them," she thought,
anxiously clasping and unclasping her
hands.

Just then, as if in answer to her plea,

Louis Philippe did pick up a minute
stone. But his eyes went from the
missile to the pug's tail uncertainly.
Then, as though any attempt at fun
required too much effort, it dropped
from his fingers, and Miss Pritchard's
heart seemed to drop with it.

Things reached a climax next day,
when Louis Germonde with dispirited
step— missing the cheer and companion-
ship of his little helpmate sorely — started
out alone. Plattville's most respectable
citizen tied a "fascinator" over her head
and donning a warm shawl ascended the
bank, setting her feet carefully in the
holes made by Louis Philippe's small
heels.

"I suppose you won't understand me,
but I wish to know if Mrs. Germonde
is ill?" she said to Bebe, who answered
her ring.

The little mission maid's eyes, in
which seemed to lie all the tragedy of
the revolution which had left her or-
phaned, smiled wistfully in reply.

"All right," Miss Pritchard nodded,
as though she had spoken, and entered
the house.

Any attempt to use the upstairs rooms
had been abandoned. On a couch in
the small dining room, under but scant
covering, lay one little beaten bread
winner. Maria Pritchard felt something
catch in her throat as the dark eyes met
her own, and thought involuntarily of
the warm bed clothes contributed two
days before to a mission barrel, the
destination of which was a thousand
miles distant. The whole house had
the dank, airless chill which seems so
much worse than outdoor cold.

"So good — of you — to come." Made-
line Germonde tried to raise herself on
one frail elbow and fell back with a fit
of coughing. "I am afraid that — you
will find the house— cold," she added
in precise, careful English.

Miss Pritchard sank on to a freezing
wicker chair. Louis Philippe, evidently
bewildered at finding the enemy thus

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within the camp, stood in the doorway
surveying her. His mother turned to
him with a wan smile which was swept
from her face in a spasm of agony.

"He is hungry 1" She brought her
hands together with a clash of despair,
apparently forgetful of her visitor for the
moment. "Mon Dieul II a faim, quoi
qu'il ne plaint pas!"

The child ran to her, his little face
working.

"Non, maman! J'ai pas faim, j'ai pas
faim!" he reiterated in his clipped
French, and looked at the enemy as
though challenging her to doubt his
statement.

Miss Pritchard rose with a swift
movement. Stripping the shawl from
her shoulders she laid it over the quiver-
ing figure on the couch and strode to
the kitchen. "I suppose there isn't
any use in asking you to help me," she
flung at Bebe from the back door.

In an incredibly short time she
emerged from her own house with an
eiderdown comfortable on one arm and
a basket of wood on the other, which
Bebe took from her at the top of the
bank. Jumbles, who had unwittingly
gotten in his mistress' way, retired to
his bed feeling that the world was surely
coming to an end. The little mission
maid, shrewdly suspecting that these
good things were but the first install-
ment, kept one eye on their neighbor's
house and was all ready to take the
steaming tray with which Miss Pritchard
appeared next.

So many doors of opportunity seemed
to open before the latter as she fed the
prostrate little artist — while Louis Phil-
ippe and Bebe banqueted gorgeously in

the kitchen — that she felt dizzy with the
effort of deciding which to enter first.

"I guess I can help her to sell those
things — if they are frivolous," she specu-
lated, with the assured social promi-
nence of one whose ancestors for two
hundred years back slept in the Plattville
cemetery. "And wasn't it the pastor's
wife who said to me that we hadn't a
really good music teacher in this town?
I'll go and see her tomorrow. And —
and I think — I'll take the little orchard
picture — after all."

Louis Germonde, returning home that
evening after a lunchless, discouraging
day of many unoccupied hours and three
lessons — for which he could not reason-
ably hope to be paid within a month —
was greeted by a waddling, asthmatic
pug dog, and a maddening odor of
something savory sputtering over a fire
mingled with a delicious aroma of hot
coffee.

He stood amazed in the doorway of
the small dining room, gazing at the
tableau within.

His wife, wrapped in some soft, fluffy
thing of pale blue, sat propped up by
pillows on the couch, her face alight
with fresh hope. In the kitchen beyond
Bebe moved about with brisk step, sing-
ing softly to herself in a renewed trust
of Providence, born from the physical
comfort of satisfied hunger —

"J'ai un bon Pere qui m' attend aux Cieux."

And Louis Philippe! Louis Philippe
lay sleeping within the arms of someone
who rocked backward and forward slowly
in a low chair, crooning an old Puritan
hymn, his softly flushed cheek pressed
against the bosom of the enemy.

DAY FLOWERS

By Eugene C. Dolson

Hearts that to joy and happiness are won, from sorrow's presence often turn away;
As flowers open to the morning sun, but close their petals with the dying day.

111. — THE GOOD THERE IS IN WAR

By Michael A. Lane

Author of "The Level of Social Motion," "New Daw"ns of Knowledge," etc,

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

IF, in the dim, active ages when the
brute ancestors of men went about
on all fours, killing and rending, a sort
of brute Hague conference could have
established a general "peace," there
would never have evolved what we call
a "human race," and man would have
been, today, a nonentity.

Fortunately -for us, our brute ances-
tors, pressed by incessant and positive
necessity, made war perpetually on one
another and on all other living things
with which they came into contact.
Mutual slaughter was the rule; and a
good, sound "principle" it was, inas-
much as the way of life required of
the individual and the tribe to be up
and doing — to kill or be killed.

Dr. Lester F. Ward, the eminent
botanist, who has spent much of his
leisure in founding the unfounded
science of sociology, suggests that it
was probably some trivial occurrence
that determined the superiority, or the
superior strength, of man; that the ele-
phant would have made a very intelli-
gent and capable ruling race — a possi-
bility which commends itself to our
judgment when we try to i nagine the
general results of the brute peace con-
ference suggested above.

The fact, however, remains. There
was, fortunately for us, no discussion
of peace; so that wide awake public and
private murder, stimulated by all kinds
of individual and social need, went on
sifting out race after race, until it pro-
duced that mild mannered, unresisting,
and altogether egregious animal, the
modern peace advocate.

The average peace advocate, like most
average men, is marked by two leading

characters, or traits; call them selfish-
ness and shallowness. First, he is op-
posed to war because the idea of war
(when he thinks of himself as being in
it) is anything but pleasant. Secondly,
he is opposed to war because he has
not the slightest notion of the funda-
mental laws of social growth.

Warlikeness is an instinct, or a trait,
or a character, that has always marked
the superior, or stronger, race; at least
when we speak of men. The best ad-
vantaged race will devour the least, or
less, advantaged, if the latter's destruc-
tion is helpful to the prosperity of the
former. And one of the most luminous,
or light shedding, illustrations of scien-
tific, thoroughly well planned and deftly
executed warfare, is your very bewhis-
kered peace advocate who emits vast
quantities of blague about "humanity,"
while devouring rare beef steak. Here
is a mammal devouring the raw flesh of
another mammal — an out and out can-
nibal— who talks of humanity! The pic-
ture is suggestive, if no more.

It is well for European peoples that
the peace men are in an insignificant
minority. With a whole nation of peace
men you will have a people and a coun-
try like those of China. A Chinese
army, marching on the "allies," turned
and went back because a rain storm dis-
solved the paper shoes worn by the sol-
diers! A peace loving man cannot be
expected to fight in uncomfortable cir-
cumstances. The Chinese, through long
centuries of adaptation, lost the warlike
instinct, with what disastrous social
effects we see; a people given over
wholly to the worship of past things
and dead ancestors; whereby progress

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

comes to an end and all things tomor-
row will be as were all things yesterday.
If this state of society is not properly
called stagnation, it would be hard to
find an appropriately rhetorical phrase
for it. A nation which^ as a nation,
cannot be provoked to fight until it feels
the spear of the enemy sticking barb-
fashion into its fleshy parts, is hardly
a progressive nation in whatsoever way
one defines the word. Peace, under cer-
tain conditions, may become a curse
rather than a blessing.

The bearings and the significance of
war will be, perhaps, better understood
if a large view be taken of the matter;
if the view include not only man but
also the entire animate world; so that
one may see the root causes of social
action in general. The idea of war is
usually applied to the war waged among
men; the definition, generally, being
limited to the fighting done by the
organized armies of nations.

The inadequacy of the definition like-
wise gives rise to many false ideas of
the real meaning of war, through failure
to include in the definition private as
well as public war. Until men can rid
themselves of private war they can never
hope to rid themselves of public war,
for the two phenomena arise out of one
and the same cause. Private war is war
that is waged for the benefit of particu-
lar individuals. Public war is waged
for the benefit of the entire community.
When looked at from these several
points of view, the rather cloudy ques-
tion of war and peace will tend to clear
itself.

Thorold Rogers, the late eminent pro-
fessor of economics at Oxford, and his
school, interpret history as an economic
phenomenon, or as a pageant of economic
phenomena, and nothing more whatso-
ever. It is a view of things which
forces conviction on the minds of those
who are not burdened with beliefs that
give to man a special niche in the uni-
verse. It reduces morality to a mechani-

cal, physical, or say chemical basis; and
while it tends to cut down human vanity,
or to destroy it quite, it also serves to
explain many obscure problems which
otherwise would remain insoluble with-
out the introduction of a supernatural,
or preternatural, machinery into the uni-
versal working of things.

When one nation conquers another
the conquered nation gives up wealth to
the conquerors. An invading army
helps itself to the wealth of the in-
vaded. Now this is precisely what hap-
pens when the body of a man — or other
complex organism — is invaded by mi-
crobes. The bodies of men — the bodies
of all metazoa— consist of great qpm-
munities of microscopic organisms called
cells. A man is nothing but an organ-
ized mass of billions of little animals,
each one living its own individual life
and working in harmony with the others,
taking its share of the food obtained by
the general effort and reproducing itself
in peace and comfort — when not dis-
turbed by invading organisms. In a
so called diseased body a state of war
prevails between the community of cells
making up the body itself and the in-
vading cells from without. If the body
cells can destroy the invaders the body
"recovers." If not the body will die.
But the point at issue in all this is —
a question of food, the wealth which
nourishes and supports life.

Admitted that a state of war prevails
between the cell community of which a
man consists and an invading horde of
pneumonia germs for example, it will
be admitted likewise that the cause of
this war is economic. Microbes must
have nourishment or they will die;
therefore they fall to the work of ab-
sorbing the nourishment which accident
throws into their way. The individual
cells in the bodies of men will die if
not nourished; therefore the community
of cells (i. e., a man) falls to work upon
the nourishment which the accidents of
environment throw in its own way. And

MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

149

the same thing is true of a society, or
a nation, which is nothing more than
a community of organisms which are
themselves made up of innumerable in-
dividual organisms called cells.

This view of war brings us suddenly
face to face with the truth of the old
proverb that might is right. Might IS
right, now and forever. The voice of
the people IS the voice of God — with
the bacilli of tuberculosis as with men.
War is a question of food (or -wealth),
and it is always justifiable when the
stronger party to it is in want of the
wealth that is to be won by its practice.
As a matter of course, the attacked party
has the right on its own side when it
defends itself — so that war is always
justified on both sides.

Men glorify and even deify ideas
associated with what they call good; and
a "good thing" in the mind of a man
is much the same as a "good thing" in
the mind of a child.

Thus the right of war becomes a
most "sacred" thing in the mind
of nations — for man, being a highly,
complex organism, can idealize much
that remains only a dim need — an
unconscious want — to the microbe.
Out of this idealization grows a god
of war, which is the possession of all
strong tribes and nations. The national
god is always at the back of the army,
and he is powerful in proportion as the
nation is strong. With cultured nations,
whose belief in gods is on the wane,
war is justified on grounds of "hu-
manity," or by a plain appeal to the
economic argument. Spoil is the root
motive of all wars of today as of the
past. Other motives are, in the main,
adventitious.

War is thus seen to be a natural pro-
cess whereby animals live upon one
another and upon vegetables, and para-
sitic vegetables upon one another and
upon animals. Internecine war occurs
when a race makes war upon its own
kind, and enmity is from of old based

upon unlikeness of kind, or remoteness
of kinship.

From this larger and general view we
can study the facts without personal
prejudice; and when studied in that way
war must be regarded as a process by
which the more favored races survive
in the struggle for existence. Human
warfare, when thus viewed, is seen to
be only a phase of the great general law
of natural selection out of which emerges
ever the fittest for survival. To be con-
sistent, the peace advocate would be
compelled to contend that the conquest
of savage peoples by civilized ones is
and always has been wrong. He would
have to contend that the discovery of
a new land with its subsequent emigra-
tion, colonization and all the fierce war-
fare accompanying these processes, has
been essentially unjustifiable and wrong.
According to that kind of philosophy,
the American colonists should have
packed themselves back to Europe in-
stead of defending themselves against
the Indians. Europe should have ac-
cepted the civilization of the Tartars
instead of fighting against it, and Chris-
tian missionaries in China should sub-
mit quietly to massacre or stay away
from that peaceful land, the inhabitants
of which are really the most consistent
advocates of peace we have.

To be thoroughly consistent (let us
say in the view of some non-human
critic from another planet where natural
selection produces minds without bodies)
tbe peace advocate would be compelled
to refrain from killing other animals for
food, or even vegetables, which, after
all, have a right to live — unless we admit
that might is right. More than this,
your peace advocate should not.defend
himself from disease after he had out-
grown the warlike instincts of his child-
hood. By pursuing this policy the peace
advocate would find that he and his
party would be wiped out of existence
in less than thirty days, leaving the
earth to the sole possession of inhabi-

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tants who accepted warfare as a natural
instinct and who, in the main, rather
liked it than otherwise; thereby demon-
strating their conspicuous fitness for sur-
vival.

Men are guilty of some tremendous
follies, but perhaps this peace folly is
the most tremendous of all. Peace,
other than the proverbial "solitude,"
can never prevail upon this earth as
long as animals are chemically consti-
tuted as they now are. If man dis-
covers a method of manufacturing pro-
toplasm directly from the elements, he
may be rid of the need of killing in
order to live. But even in that event
he would not be left in peace by the
myriad organisms about him whose sole
trade is killing. He would be compelled
to kill them, or many of them, if he
were not to be overrun and killed by
them.

Peace and good will among men them-
selves is possible and probable, but on
no such basis as that which is generally
argued by those unthinking persons
whose heads are in the sand, while the
whole universe looks on a posteriori.
Political peace will come about, no
doubt, when trade shall have been es-
tablished upon a perfectly equilibriated
bottom; when national, or general, econ-
omy can gain nothing, but, on the con-
trary, lose, by war; when the human
race shall have been reduced to one
type, or when a superior, intelligent,
and powerful race of men shall have
reduced all other races to a state of
helpless dependence, whereby the in-
ferior, or weak races, shall be ruled like
dogs are now, by fear and affection.
Then we may have universal peace;
but until then war will be approved and
war will be "good."

Before that blessed state shall have
been reached, however, there will have
been brought about a radical reform in
the general methods of doing business
among men. The whole cannot be
greater than the sum of its parts. If

every individual in a community be
red headed, you will have a red headed
community. If individual men believe
in and practice private war, public war
will be" a necessity.

Now what is meant by the terms pri-
vate war? This is meant: taking from
another by force or fraud what is not
yours but his. This is what the
socialists call "expropriation," and ex-
propriation .is the bottom rock on which
war, public or private, (among men) is
founded. Private war is, under another
name, industry. And it would be the
most vicious of errors to imagine that
industry, of the glory of which we hear
so much, is without its slain. On the
contrary, for every man slain in war, so
called, a thousand are slain in industry.
To him who is not sodden with the stu-
pidity of ignorance, or wholly debauched
with the desire for getting his hands on
the possessions of others, the present
system of industry is a monstrous crime
beside which the "horrors" of antique
warfare were "pale and pure and pain-
. less as a virgin's dreams." Why raise
our hands in horror at a few liters of
blood shed on battle fields, while millions
of men and women (to say nothing of
children) are dying of disease acquired
in the shops, mills and mines of Christ-
endom? Why talk of peace when indus-
trial barons — nay, kings — make private
war as they please, using as their armies
the millions who are continually falling
disabled or dead in the fight? Why
moan over a handful of Japanese or Rus-
sians, when girls are dying of bone rot
in American match factories, and twenty
million or more American working men
are expropriated, robbed and bled (while
thousands of them are literally slaugh-
tered) in the shambles of industry?

And yet if we hold that public war
is a good thing we must hold also that
private war in the form of industry is no
less a good thing in itself. All growth,
— which is really adaptation, — is pain-
ful; has its "growing pains" and its

MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

diseases.-of childhood, which disappear
when ^he organism is fully adapted, or,
as it is called, mature. This is true of
social as of individual growth, and to
understand the second we must know
something of the first. The sociologist
who is blissfully unaware of the struc-
ture of his own hide, or of the function
or structure of his own liver or blood,
is a sad picture when he comes to us
talking learnedly of "society" —as if
men were the only considerable things
in science of any kind. Society is in
process of growth, has not yet arrived
at its maturity, or its equilibrium of
forces, and therefore must have its pub-
lic and private war until social adapta-
tion be complete, and war, thereby,
come to an end.

The outlook for universal peace among
men is not so very discouraging when
we consider the steady growth of so
called socialistic ideas since the estab-
lishment of the factory system. Within
the last ten years the rapidity of that
growth in the United States has been
amazing. Ten years ago not one Ameri-
can in one thousand had definite ideas
concerning government ownership of in-
dustry, while today not one in one thou-
sand but can discuss it intelligently, or
at least has a definite idea that gov-
ernment ownership would take "money"
out of the pockets of other people and
put it into his own — an idea that is in-
telligent enough for all practical pur-
poses, being, as it is, a true conception
of the facts. Labor is not expropriated
when the state operates industry not for
taxing purposes but for the general good.
Teachers of political economy in the
great universities of this country (with
two or three exceptions) do not write or
preach doctrines favorable to socialist
programs because they know that if they
did so they would lose their jobs. A
professor, after all, is only a man with
a job; and unless he is guaranteed abso-
lute liberty of speech, he dare not draw

upon himself the wrath of his employer.
Professors of zoology fight shy of the
God question, because if they taught
their class that there is no God they
would lose their jobs. Professors of
political economy may be convinced that
government ownership of industry is
a good thing, but they dare not preach
it. If they did they would lose their
jobs.

They cannot justify themselves by
saying that they do not teach what
"ought to be," but what is. They are
constantly telling the people and them-
selves what ought to be; but they keep
a sharp lookout that the ought-to-be
which they advocate is a thoroughly
respectable ought-to-be, guaranteed not
to offend the men who pay their
salaries. The few socialistic professors
of political economy who have dared to
teach socialism openly have lost their
jobs, and some of them who secured
new jobs (in state universities and else-
where) have been compelled to trim and
tack for fear of being out of a job per-
manently.

Now the outlook for liberty of speech
for professors of political economy (who,
after all, are men with ideas of sympathy
and justice, and not mere bags of dry
bones) is favorable. As popular opinion
grows socialistic, the professor will be-
come bolder and bolder, until the losing
of one's job becomes a paying propo-
sition; until the fighting professor be-
comes a leader in the war of the people
upon the industrial baron. The out-
look, therefore, for industrial peace, is
good; and the United States is a most
promising field for the first really strong
sprouts of it. "That which is good
doth pass to better, best." We have
built up tremendous political liberties
and great international trade by public
war; we have built up vast industries by
private war. And the outlook spells
right wages for the working man and
liberty of speech for the professor.

O
z

MISALLIANCE

By George Du Bois

CITY OF MEXICO, MEXICO

« I PROMISE you," repeated Albert,
• the young, newly married mer-
chant, detaching the halter from the
ring in the old wall, "I promise you
that your niece shall have no occasion to
complain of me. You will hear from
her very soon, and the news will be
good."

Then, judging superfluous further
promises, he leaped lightly into the
saddle.

Upon the mossy old mounting block
stood the fair, proud Alice, evidently
reluctant to br,eak away from the effusive
demonstrations of her uncle the cheva-
lier, and from the embraces of her aunt
and her two cousins, Charlotte and Mar-
celine, who inundated her traveling cape
with tears, clinging to her with sobs and
sighs simply heartrending.

The young merchant bent, raised his
bride, seated her on the croup, and,
applying the spur, cut short that scene
of desolation by urging his Percheron to
a trot.

But with face turned toward the semi-
ruined manor, the nobly born bride com-
menced to weep harder still, so much
so in fact that the young husband at last
said:

"Your relatives are not lost to you,
Alice. You will see them again very
soon . ' '

Then as his bride made no reply, but
continued to weep, Albert, little flattered
at that evidence of chagrin, discoun-
tenance even, hastened the pace of his
mount.

"Does it seem to you so sad, then,
to depart with a husband who loves
you?" he ventured at last, in a voice
of melancholy tenderness. "I conceive,
it is true, the pain of your uncle,of your
aunt and of your two young cousins, but
if their affection for you is sensible they

will console themselves with the satis-
faction of knowing that you are no
longer a charge on their bounty, that
you are at last established advantage-
ously."

"What words of cold reason!" cried
the girl in a tone of deep offense. Do
you suppose that a consideration of
petty interest can console my relatives
for the pain of parting? Ah! one sees
at once in that remark the practical
sense of the merchant, who mixes calcu-
lation with the noblest of sentiments."
"My dear girl," replied Albert, piqued
at the reproach, ''your last, words lead me
to believe that a certain disdain for me
is intermingled with your regret at part-
ing with your relatives. I am proud,
too, and that disdain tends to kill in
me the tender familiarity that would aid
me to console you."

"And do you imagine that you will
be able so easily to make me forget what
I am leaving?" cried the damsel. "How-
soever neat your place may be, it will
not efface the souvenirs of my old home.
There I have imbibed principles and
ideas of nobility that can never be
yours."

"In fact," retorted the merchant, "I
do not desire to imbibe principles or
ideas that would lead me to ruin."

Alice felt her pride' deeply wounded,
and replied acridly:

"If, in entering the circle of our gen-
tility, you have only remarked the ruin-
ous condition of the manor or the nudity
of the interior, you render proof of a
very superficial judgment."

"I have remarked you also," insinu-
ated the young merchant, with a shade
pf sly yet conciliatory malice.

"And in doing so appear to infer

that you have done me a signal favor."

"I do not mean to infer that; I simply

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

hope that you will lose nothing by leav-
ing a difficult existence for an easy one,
and the indifferent regard of relatives
for the attention, love and care of a hus-
band."

"Again! Really, I admire your pre-
sumption!" cried Alice, with a vexation
that accentuated her real sorrow at the
separation; "how can a man in your
condition show more attentive care or
delicacy than my noble uncle the cheva-
lier, my lady aunt and my two young
cousins, who are people of quality?"

Albert bit his lip and replied:

"It is a pity you did not reflect upon
all that ere consenting to become my
wife."

"Vex me no more, sir! All you say
is redolent of a vulgar, commercial
vanity."

"Ah!" retorted the young merchant,
"my vulgar commercial vanity is humble
and insignificant alongside of your
vanity of nobility."

"Let us go no further!" cried Alice
impetuously. "I see now how utterly
different are our stations and our views.
Allow me to alight from your beast.
You may proceed alone to your shop! I
return to the manor!"

"Surely you will not leave me this
way!" pleaded the young husband in
a tone of despair.

They were approaching a village.
Alice commenced to attempt to slip to
the ground at risk of injury, which
obliged the young man to halt his horse
and assist her to alight.

"I have almost a mind to exercise my
right as a husband and carry you away
against your will.!" he growled. "But
you would cry out against it as a
violence. I prefer to allow the common
sense of your relatives to restore you to
reason. I will halt at that tavern and.
await you until evening — no longer!"

"You may wait for me till Christmas
or kingdom come, if you wish!" retorted

the girl angrily, turning her back on him.

The distance lying between the tavern
and the manor was not great, but Alice,
in order to avoid curious people, made
a detour through the park. There were
plenty of breaches in the old wall per-
mitting her to enter. However, she
lessened her pace as she approached
the ancient manor.

Although still bewildered by a quarrel
so soon after marriage, she commenced
to meditate the consequences of her
action. The emotion caused by the
adieux, the apprehension of a new
existence, nervousness at encountering
herself for the first time alone with
Albert, all the novelty of married life
had unnerved her, and the reflex of
so many diverse sensations had mani-
fested itself unconsciously in that excess
of anger which betrayed the agitation of
her spirit, dissimulating the true state
of her mind, for in fact she was much
attached to her young husband.

The view of the ancient manor in-
creased her embarrassment and her
regrets; what emotion her unexpected
return was going to cause her dear ones!

The idea caused her to halt in the
rear of a dense hedge, and there, con-
cealed, she reflected upon the best
mode of narrating her adventure, in
order not to arouse too much the ire
of the chevalier against the young mer-
chant, nor cause her aunt and cousins
too great grief. At that moment the
voices of her aunt and uncle reached-her
ear, proceeding from a trellised arbor
near by, in the shade of which they were
accustomed to sup when the weather was
fine, a conversation which now absorbed
her entire attention.

"Yes, I am glad of it," tranquilly
affirmed the chevalier. "I have had the
tact never to allow her to feel it, but her
presence imposed upon us an extra ex-
pense that I was in no position to stand.
I have long felt the necessity of applying
that extra expense to the welfare of my
own children. At an age when many

MISALLIANCE

'55

girls are self supporting, Alice has never
had a care. It would have humiliated
me to allow her to comprehend that she
was abusing our bounty. So when that
young merchant, who has the air of an
honest and charming fellow, asked
me for her hand, I found the offer very
apropos. That marriage delivers us
from a heavy charge and forms the best
solution of the problem that our poverty
has created for me, and saves me from
the mortification of having to disclose
it to her."

"Yes," said the lady with a tone of
deep satisfaction, "outside the incon-
venience arising from lack of funds, I
can say that, due perhaps to the fact that
she has had to wait until she is twenty-
two ere being able to secure a husband,
or perhaps due to our very retired man-
ner of living, the humor of our niece had
become singularly acrid. Her disposi-
tion is difficult. She often quarreled
with our girls, at times even with me.
However, Charlotte is nearly eighteen,
Marceline is almost sixteen, a marriage-
able age, and the presence of that senior
cousin, prettier, if not as amiable as
they, would have injured their chances
with pretendants. Alice would have
attracted all the attention, and my poor
girls would have passed unperceived.
But, hush! here they come!"

The two girls, bearing the frugal sup-
per, advanced smilingly toward the
arbor, and Charlotte exclaimed:

"I have just installed myself in the
chamber that Alice has occupied; in my
opinion it is the nicest in the house, and
I feel better there than I did when I
had to share a room with Marceline!"

"And I," exclaimed the junior, "I
feel much better alone in my chamber!"

Ill

Poor Alice, trembling far more than
the leaves of the poplar stirred by the
breezes of early eve, no longer dared to
present herself to her relatives, and,
quietly deserting her concealment, she

glided into the shelter of the brush
of the park.

She wandered for a time here and
there, her heart heavy and her eyes
streaming with tears.

Arriving before the broken wall, she
turned to gaze once more, to bid adieu
to the ancient manor where she had
passed the days of her youth, ere emerg-
ing into an unknown world. Bathed in
rosy light by the last rays of the setting
sun, it appeared to her neither dilapi-
dated nor gloomy; on the contrary, it
seemed very solid yet and gayer than
ever. The souls of men, the souls of
things, all, then, seemed happy at her
departure. Failing to find a companion
gloom in the spirits of her relatives or
in the ruinous old manor, she turned to
the ruins of her heart; veritable ruins
they appeared to her, ruins of hopes, of
illusions now crushed and broken for-
ever by reason of a few phrases uttered
irreflectively.

Then amid her despair surged the
image of the young merchant. She saw
again his kind face, pensive, despairing,
and, seized with a sudden, profound
remorse, without waiting longer, fearing
that he too might forget her, she cleared
the old wall and quickly regained the
road leading to the village.

Although eve had fallen ere she
arrived at the tavern, she found Albert
still waiting there with unquiet gaze
fixed upon the route, the dust of which
was already mellowed by the rays of the
moon. Upon the appearance of Alice,
he turned pale with emotion. However,
it was very simply he asked:

"Are you ready to go?"

"I am ready," she replied resolutely.

He entered the court of the tavern
and quickly reappeared leading the
horse by the bridle.

He leaped lightly into the saddle,
bent to lift his bride, seated her on the
croup, then spurred the beast and

156 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

resumed the way toward the city at a young merchant spurred harder in order

lively trot. to arrive more quickly, Alice with her

And as behind him Alice still wept, pretty, supple arms encircled the waist

but discreetly, noiselessly, the young of her husband and with lips close to

merchant asked, in a voice full of solic- his ear murmured in a voice begging

itude: pardon:

"Are you still so sorry, my dear?" "Ah! my dear Albert, I have just

"Oh!" she replied humbly, "do not comprehended, at last, that there is

worry over my tears; it is my heart that more genuine love in your rude frank-

is emptying itself of the past, drop by ness than in all the effusions of my uncle

drop, so that your love and tenderness the chevalier, than in all the tears of my

may take its entire place!" lady aunt, or the sobs of my young

And then, as in excess of joy the cousins."

THE DAWN ON A SHORE ^ By Yone Noguchi

I DREAMED I crawled out of darkest hell,

• Maddened by the torture of the terrible show,

With blood-shotten eyes numbed by useless gazing

Toward the bliss of the stars.

I crawled out, at last,

Into the breezes of dawn,

Into the breezes whose taste I had forgotten long.

I trembled, feeling the sudden stir of life ;

The green odor of the dawn and immortality

Slowly revived my soul.

Was there one more dreadful to see

Than my face touched with the blackest stain,

Mercilessly touched with the leprous breath

Of the sufferers in the pit?

I turned my face to the eastward,

I smelled the coming of morning

As the cattle smell the pool at a distance.

I raato receive the golden kiss of the goddess of light and love

That rose from, the seas with the throbbing song of glory —

The Song of the Resurrection.

Two angels danced around the sun, in white splendor :

The angel Joy in crimson dress,

With silvery flashes from her eyes,

With flowers in her richest cloud of hair ;

The angel Faith in sable robe,

With silent brow and lips of infinity.

My cheek suddenly flowered fragrant and red ;

My eyes beamed with the old glad dreams,

The morning dews of joy and love

Richly grossed my sun-kissed hair.

WITH ROSSETTI IN LONDON

By Yone Noguchi

Author of "From the Eastern Sea", "The Snail," "Voice of the Valley, etc.

TOKYO, JAPAN

WILLIAM M. ROSSETTI TO YONE NOGUCHI, LONDON, 1903

3 ST. EDMUND'S TERRACE

REGENT'S PARK, N. W.

17 JAN., 1903

DEAR MR. NOGUCHI : I have read
your poems, paying rather minute atten-
tion to them, as you will see by my re-
visions and notes. I assure you that I
consider them in many respects very
good; they are full of a rich sense of
beauty, and of ideal sentiment. In fact
the essential excellence of the poems,
and the particular quality of their excel-
lence, surprise me. "The Myoto" is
truly a beautiful little piece, marked by
feeling equally simple and deep.

You will hardly need to be informed
that your poems do not read exactly as
if they had been written by an English-
man: indeed, in my opinion, they ought
not to do so — they ought to convince of
their Eastern origin. Occasionally
there is a phrase which is not English ;
and oftener a very bold use of epithets,
such as " velvet-footed moonbeams " —
but this one can allow for, as a daring
transfer of one impression of sense into
a different but analogous impression.
In some instances I think the verse — as
verse — would read smoother and better
by transporting words from one line into
another.

You see I am sending back your
poems to explain my views, but I should
be very sorry to lose them, so I should
be indebted to you if you would forward
me another copy.

Would you like any of your poems to
appear in some English magazine'? It

seems to me that, if I were to send your
pamphlet to some magazine — say "T.
P.'s Weekly," which has a great circula-
tion — the editor would be likely to
insert one of the compositions, more
especially "The Myoto." I cannot,
however, answer for this, as I am not
• directly connected with that magazine.

I should also rather like to show the
pamphlet to our one great living poet,
Algernon Swinburne. He is a friend of
mine, and a great critic as well as poet,
and I think he would not fail to appre-
ciate your work.

If you approve of this idea about the
magazine and Swinburne, you would
please send me three copies, including
the one for myself.

I would most gladly make your per-
sonal acquaintance. I live here with
two daughters, and the house is tolerably
full of Japanese prints, books, etc. One
of my daughters, more especially, is a
great enthusiast for Japanese books. I
have engagements for January 18, 19, 23,
24, 30 and 31. Some other day I could
see you with pleasure if you call : it will
be desirable that you should propose a
time two or three days beforehand, so
that we might ensure a meeting.

Believe me,

Very truly yours,

WM. M. ROSSETTI.

Of course I don't expect you to adopt
my revisions on your pamphlet unless
you yourself like them: they are put in that
form, as the only easy way of showing
what I mean.

BELIEVE me, such was the very letter
written to me by William M.
Rossetti, brother of Dante and Chris-
tina, one of the great living critics and
no mean poet, after only a few days of
the publication of my pamphlet, "From
the Eastern Sea," in brown paper

(which, as Sir Lewis Morris also wrote
me, was "like one of the impressionist
Whistler's on Art Criticism, -which was
on brown paper and also with good
effect.") In fact, since the pamphlet
was published from my own pocket,
which was already growing terribly thin

1 58

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

at that time, I could not afford any bet-
ter paper. "Brown paper" I used was
one which London shop keepers wrap
things with— the cheapest kind of paper.
I took a little American money with me
to London — "dear, smoky London," as
"Dad" Stoddard [Charles Warren] used
to say, and a big bundle of my poems
on my back. I went to one publisher
after another, and one magazine after
another, carrying my poems, the fruit
of six years' labor at least, and it was
becoming quite a nuisance. Must I give
up my ambition, my cherished ambition
to publish things in London, — Shelley
and Keats' London? Must I forget my
dream of waking up one morning famous
like Byron, I thought. I expected to
stay in London for six months, and four
months were already passed and my
plans had not gone forward even a step.
I was obliged to move to my Japanese
friend's boarding house at Brixton Road
(where was Yoshio Markino, the artist)
and to curse London and all the English
publishers. He was hard up, and I
joined him, as misery loves company.
"Why can't I publish my book (yes,
a pamphlet) with the money which I
kept for my Paris trip?" I said to my-
self. I had money put in another pocket
which was sufficient to make a trip by
Cook's excursion at Christmas time. I
told my idea to Markino, who said
"Good!" So my sixteen-page pamphlet
was published from a little printer's of
Kensington Park, a few blocks from our
boarding house. And is there any more
impractical place than Brixton Road?
Richard LeGallienne said, in his review
of my book, one which was incorporated
in a more ambitious volume under the
same title and published by the Unicorn
Press, "Brixton, I may explain, is some-
thing like the Harlem, pr perhaps the
Brooklyn, of London." Yes, my pam-
phlet hailed out from a most unpoetical
address. And lo! London, great Lon-
don who once wondered on Byron, cast
her sudden surprising look, and, thank

God, recognized at once "myself" in
my pamphlet. What a fear and courage
I showed in sending out some copies to
the press and the leading English
writers! Next morning, look, the letter
of the Duchess of Sutherland was wait-
ing for my rise. Greeting and good
wishes for my success she sent me. She
recognized "a scent from the cherry
blossoms, from the wood of the houses,
of the shower of the Inland Sea," in my
book. And she asked five more copies.
Laurence Housman, author of "An
Englishwoman's Love Letters," sent
me some suggestions. And Arthur Sy-
mons, the critic, promised to write me
up in the Saturday Review. Sir Leslie
Stephen paid me compliments, and
Thomas Hardy wrote me a letter. The
Duke of Argyle wrote me, too. Sir
Lewis Morris sent me kind words from
Camarthen. I was invited to come to
meet Ellen Terry. The letter with the
English crown on was from the Queen.
It was the third day of the publication
that the Outlook gave three pages for
my sixteen-page pamphlet, under the
heading of "A Friendly and an Allied
Poet." Most certainly my name was
made, — yes, at once. And the above
letter came next from our worthy Ros-
setti. Dear, kind old soul! He must
have been spending many an hour in
balancing every line of my poems, and
pruning them here and there. He sent
me a page or two of his notes on my
poems. Yes, he took such pains with it
as he once did on his great brother 'sx\
work. Was he not a brotherly adviser
to his sister Christina? I regret to say,
however, that I could not accept every
suggestion he made.

I rode to his St. Edmund's Terrace,
crossing Regent Park. His house was
exactly like one in my imagination, dark
and retired looking, comfortable under
the atmosphere soft and mystically sweet.
I knocked the door knob. How inter-
esting to tap the knob instead of pushing
the electric button 1 (I said once that I

WITH ROSSETTI IN LONDON

'59

would leave London immediately if
there was no knob on door and no
sweet afternoon tea within.) The door
was opened by one young lady. Such
a smile, quiet and yet sparkling! I
remembered that I used to read such
a smile in Dante's poems. The lady
had the charm which was far away and
yet verily near — the charm which I
found in Dante's picture. She was the
young lady Dante must love. Why,
certainly! She was his niece. I decided
myself at once that I will not accept any
other name for her but Helen or Lilith,
which I read in Dante's poems. "Come
right in, Mr. Noguchi, father and I have
been waiting for you. My elder sister
is away today. You must think, at least
today, that my father has only one
daughter," she said, when she led me
through the hall. What a profoundly
sweet air! The literary atmosphere
completely filled the house, since it
was continually occupied more than one
hundred years by the leading literary
men of England, the last occupant being
Richard Garnett, as I was told after-
ward. Look at those Japanese pictures
on the hall wall! "I am sure you are
one who loves enthusiastically Japanese
art," I said. "Yes," was her brief
reply, but her smile and blush * * *
She was delicious.

A moment later, I and Mr. Rossetti
were talking in his library with the odor
a thousand years old. The whole world
would be glad if Dante Rossetti lived
today, but I felt extremely happy in see-
ing his dear brother who was spiritually
his twin. He was little and gray. What
a kind beam from his eyes! I felt as if
I knew him more than fifty years. He
opened his heart to me. "You look
more Italian than Japanese. And your
name is Italian too," he began. We
quarreled over the phrases oi my poems.
He regretted that he did not sail to
Japan instead of Australia, where he
had been when his health failed some
years ago. "Fuji Mountain must be

divinely beautiful," he said. And he
took down a hundred volumes of Japan-
ese pictures from the shelf, and asked
me the points about them. It was per-
fectly a surprise that he knew so much
about the Japanese art; he said that it
was a pity for Japan if she will adopt the
European way in painting. "How my
brother loved those pictures," he sighed.
The atmosphere was becoming slightly
tragic, when his daughter brought in the
tea. I was glad that she did not forget
the marmalade. English afternoon tea
would be nothing without it.

"Do you know where you are sitting,
Mr. Noguchi?" he said suddenly, look-
ing at me.

"The sofa where you are sitting used
to belong to Shelley. It was brought
back from Italy. He breathed his last
breath on it. Dante wrote a sonnet on
it, as perhaps you know," he said.
Really? I — sitting on Shelley's sofa!
What an unexpected luck! It would be
great for a Japanese to come to London,
and doubtless it is the greatest thing
to sit on Shelley's sofa and talk with
Rossetti. I secretly congratulated my-
self on my fortune. Mr. Rossetti wished
me to come over to see Holman Hunt,
one of the famous artists and one of
the Rossetti group, when I told him that
I used to live with Joaquin Miller.
Hunt was Miller's old friend. "Miller
is a poet," he exclaimed. "So you
are," he said a moment later. He said
that he often saw Watts-Dunton, who also
appreciated my work and to whom he
wished to introduce me. "Ycu must
see Swinburne before you leave London.
I am sorry he is speedily growing deaf,"
he said.

"Will you come up to my bedroom,
Mr. Noguchi? You don't mind it. I
like to show it," Rossetti's daughter
exclaimed from the hall.

I, Mr. Rossetti and his daughter
climbed up the stairs dimly lighted.
London Winter has no daylight, under
the famous London fogs and smoke. I

i6o

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

was frightened on seeing a certain mask,
terribly pale, at the corner. It was
Dante's mask — the greatest Italian poet,
before whom all the Rossetti family
burned incense. Mr. Rossetti said it
was his brother's work. Behold the
four walls of his daughter's chamber!
Believe me, the Japanese pictures
covered everywhere, and the pictures
were Hiroshige's Gojusan Tsugi (fifty-
three pictures of the Tokaido road.) "I
admire Hiroshige, don't you?" she said,
looking at me. "He was one of the
most wonderful artists of the world,"
Mr. Rossetti added. Did I expect to
find such a Japanese-picture enthusiast
In London? I confess I felt a great
shame in my utter ignorance of Japa-
nese pictures. I wondered how boldly I

could call myself a genuine Japanese.

He led me, afterward, to the dining
room, saying that he would like to show
me Dante's picture of Christina. There
in the dining room the pictures of the
elder Rossetti couple were hung. "He
was a great scholar and the authority on
great Dante," he said. Dante! Yes,
the Rossetti family was Dante's reincar-
nation. Look at another wall! There's
eternally sweet and quiet Miss Chris-
tina Rossetti.

I bade goodnight when the vesper bell
rang. To hear the church bell anywhere
in London will suggest something nobler
and sadder. And to hear it at Rossetti's
house suggested to me the noblest and
saddest feeling which comes most rarely.

How can I forget this my first visit?

MY THOUGHTS OF THEE

By Ben Franklin Bonnell

SANTA ROSA, CALIFORNIA

AN Oriole sang to me
** From the top of a laurel tree
And he set my heart aflame ;
For, Dear, he spoke your name
As plain as plain could be —
No purer, sweeter note e'er came
From bird or angel than your name.

He perched, and then away —

The light all left the day— -

And my heart sank cold as lead,

But a Honeysuckle said :

" Come sit with me today —

I cannot sing like the Oriole

But I'll breathe the fragrance of her soul."

Words never can express

My real happiness,

Nor half my sweet surprise :

A Pansy with dreamy eyes

Smiled as you smile ! Oh, I confess

That Nature only speaks to me

In sighs and smiles and thoughts of Thee.

NANG PATAY-DAANG
(THE DEATH-TRAIL)

By Arthur Stanley Riggs

MANILA, PHILIPPINE ISLANDS

BUTCH WHITE was an ex-soldier
and a negro. When his regiment
went back home to the United States,
Butch took his discharge and stayed in
the Philippines, partly because he
dreaded the cold of a northern Win-
ter, after the warm, muggy climate he
had been in for three years and partly
for the sake of satisfying a somewhat
lazy spirit of adventure.

His captain felt that perhaps there
might be something back of the burly
corporal's statement that he wanted to
stay in the islands to stake out a mining
claim, but being gifted with a modicum
of reason, he forbore to do more than
warn the happy-go-lucky Butch against
the seductions of the native liquors, vile
stuffs made up of paregoric and light-
ning, as evil in their effects as in their
sickening and clammy smells. He knew
when he spoke that he was wasting his
breath; Butch was big and full of hot
young blood, his captain, on the con-
trary, being little, middle aged and
anaemic.

For a while after his old partners left
Manila Butch lived well, spending his
accrued and travel pay with a lavish
hand, negro fashion; but that small sum
could not last forever, and one dripping
morning he woke up to find himself
penniless, stranded in a foreign city —
twelve thousand miles away from Chris-
tianity and everything else — bitterly hos-
tile at heart to anyone who spoke the
tongue of the Americans, those hateful
and malicious "white swine" who had
come to wreck the lovely island home of
true independence. Butch had much of
the American soldier's distrust of the
Filipino, but he also had a more genial
and sunny temper than his brothers in

arms, so it was hardly remarkable, after
having wasted shoes and patience in the
effort to obtain work from white men,
that he came to be, in the course of
a few weeks, a driver and wagon boss
for a wealthy Filipino, who repaid his
good nature and skilled service with
horses and men by small wages and
large curses, in very fluent and broken
English and Spanish. Neither sort of
emolument was at all regular. That he
must be glad of either, and with a cheer-
ful face, at that, was a lesson Butch
quickly learned. Money being scarce
and promises unusually plenty in the
Philippines, it is a rare employer
indeed who introduces the former to
the latter.

Months passed slowly. By degrees
the big driver was getting used to the
life, and after the first keen sense of
shame at having to work for a "gugu,"
even for one who possessed several
millions of Spanish pesos and just
enough Spanish blood to damn him,
had passed away, Butch became so inured
to his employ that he approached dan-
gerously close to the abyss of liking it.
But it was then that he met his fate.
Rosaria Kabkad came to Manila and
Butch saw her for the second time.

Three years before, when the black

th cavalry had gone up the railroad

on its first tour of duty to San Isidro,
Butch had taken the girl and her father
and mother up into his engine-cab to get
them away to a place of safety. They
were "Americanistas" and the insur-
rectos had set a price on their heads.
In the glare from the open. firebox door,
through the smoke of the burning village
and the fumes of the smokestack of his
engine, they two had crouched at the

I 62

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

cab-end, while Butch, one hand on his
long throttle lever, told the colonel the
story in a single hurried sentence. The
old man understood and moved off out
of range from the little engine. The
bullets were flying, and the girl and her
parents found a safe but grimy place of
temporary refuge in the tender, huddled
among the logs which fed the machine.
In the morning, miles away from the
scene of the conflagration and fighting,
they left the engine, and Rosaria cried
with tears of joy in her brown eyes that
she would be his "querida" if ever he
came to Manila. She would wait for
him there, if he would have her. It was -
but just, and a simple return for what
he had done for her and hers. Butch
laughed at her, but remembered. ~There
was no immodesty in her proposal; she
spoke from the Filipina's standpoint.
The smiling, good natured black bulk
of the big trooper fascinated her, and,
pure child of nature that she was, her
whole instinct responded to his essential
virility. He was big, he was pleasant,
he was better to look at than her most
ardent native admirers; and to Rosaria
that meant much.

To Butch her naive proposal had
meant practically nothing. But now
she had come. His regiment had gone
home; no one of his old friends was
around. The Filipina had been true,
he felt sure. She did not represent
the ordinary native woman. The man
thought hard for a moment. A second
later his powerful double team stood idle
in the street and he was talking to
Rosaria.

She was glad to see him. Things had
changed with her, and the swelling tide
of war had swept fortune to her feet; she
was fairly rich. Like most native women
she wore no shoes — she stood there on
wooden half clogs in the sunshine, her
feet soiled and dusty. In her ears glit-
tered a pair of brilliant diamonds repre-
senting the family's entire wealth — war
had made diamonds safer to carry and

easier to keep than bulky pesos. Butch
regarded her doubtfully as he thought
the matter over, finally remarking, with
fine disregard for his speech:

"You no 'quiere' me now, eh? Got
'mucho dinero, muchos diamantes?' "

"No, no, senor! Mucho amigo a
tu. Mi no rico — pobre!'" was the pas-
sionate response, followed in a moment
by a shy, downcast glance, and the
words, brief and simple, that Butch
wanted to hear, but of which he was half
afraid: <"Te amo!' "

At the curb stood the great dray. The
patient dun mules flicked their tails
lazily, surveying the world with an air
of mild disapproval and dispassionate
unconcern, while " carromatas " and
other small vehicles squeezed past in
the narrow thoroughfare as best they
might, the drivers expressing muttered
opinions with volubility. Butch knew
dimly the psychological moment had
come, and his heart swelled with a new
sense of satisfaction. Something he
had never known before thrilled through
his whole black bulk as he watched
the short little square-set, barefooted,
brown woman beside him on the hot
pavement with a hungry light in his
eyes. Rosaria, of course, knew nothing
of the man, of the animal, in him. To
her perfervid Filipino imagination he
was simply the American negro who had
proved himself, who had had the power
to save, who had saved her and her
"padres." The red and hideous night
when she had sprung upon the step of
the little, wood-burning engine and
begged, through the music of the pop-
ping, ripping, purring Mauser balls and
the smoke of her own denuded and blaz-
ing shack, for her life at the hands of
the sweating trooper engineer, came
back to her in all its intense vividness
as they stood talking in the narrow,
grimy little "pasaje" by the steamboat
landing.

She reasoned as to results, the conse-
•quences of her decision, merely that

NANG PATAY-DAANG

163

other Filipinas had gone with Ameri-
can negroes and were satisfied. Brutes
though the foreign masters might be and
often were, they were at least kinder,,
more considerate, less petty and unrea-
soning in their cruelties, all things taken
into consideration. And most of the
time the negro would be in an equable
mood, whereas the Filipino lord and
master is changeable as an early gust of
Spring monsoon. In the negro the
sense of proprietorship and vanity was
tickled, and as he drove off on his pon-
derous car, banging his way slowly over
the uneven cobbles of the "Muelle de
la Reina" to the steamer for which his
load was intended, he went as one
asleep.

For a while things in the new house-
hold ran smoothly. "Queridaville," the
contemptuous name given by a sarcastic
and irate board of health physician to
denote a certain section of Manila where
no couple had taken the trouble to face
a priest before joining forces, opened
its doors willingly to the latest comers,
and the "padres," who saw no fault in
the relation, lived contentedly enough in
the snug, new nipa house with Rosaria
and her dark lover, glad beyond words
that their lives had been cast in so
pleasant and congenial an atmosphere
and place, among so many of their own
kind and convictions. Everybody was
contented in Queridaville, even when
some brute threw a lamp at his mistress,
to the everlasting detriment of the straw
hut in which the couple had its place
of abode, such as it was.

Butch was too thoroughly steeped in
the levee traditions and modes of life
that obtain all along the river front in
that queer district of smoky Cincinnati
known as Bucktown, where the muddy
Ohio is the court of last resort and the
temple of eternal silence, to consider the
matter at all. No one but fussy old
major doctors of the army cared, and
they preferred their club and a cup of
Scotch and soda to investigating Queri-

daville, excepting when the cholera or
plague or smallpox set to work vigor-
ously to cleanse the pest spot. Then, by
that curious inconsistency which governs
the motives of humanity, the doctors
fought the destroyer desperately, van-
quishing him every time, and bringing
a fresh lease of life and perniciousness
to the very people they despised. Thus
the pariahs had as good a chance to die
decently as the better people.

Butch was rather proud, and it was
not long before all the district had been
to his house to feast and drink and sing.
But at the height of his pleasure there
came a sudden change. Jimlap, the rich
Filipino, for whom he worked, needed
more men on his immense sugar planta-
tion down in Negros Occidental. Jim-
lap was a half-caste, a "mestizo," having
some little Chino blood, and therefore
with the usual traits of the Filipino he
combined a judicious portion of Chinese
guile. The result was that he succeeded
to a degree that made him hated and
feared as a rival in trade by his less
energetic and clear sighted brothers and
competitors. He recognized easily that
Butch was the man to send down as
boss; he had the knowledge of men
necessary, he had training, he was black,
h,e had no incumbrances. A "querida"
or two is never permitted to interfere
with business or marriage. Butch should
go. Beside his other qualifications,
he spoke Tagalog, and it would not
take him long, with his ready knack
of picking up a new dialect, to. get a
sufficiency of Vicol to handle his men.

Jimlap sent for the negro and told
him of the chance in terms that scarcely
permitted its refusal. He should be the
"superintendente" — Pedro Sacay was
incompetent and should come back to
Manila, to a mere clerkship in the office
where the big punkas kept the fetid air
stirring feebly through the muggy morn-
ings and torrid afternoons. And the pay
would be very grand. v There was little
time for deliberation ; the steamer would

164

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

leave at three. Jimlap had fixed it so
on purpose. He owned the steamer
and could have dispatched her an hour
or two later, or not at all, had he so
minded, but he wanted Butch to go and
therefore did not care to give the burly
black a chance to defeat his plans by
thinking the matter over too long.
There would be no time for him to go
home, but his "querida" would be noti-
fied, and if he made a success on the
plantation she could perhaps go down to
him later on, in six months, or nine,
maybe a year. Possibly it might be
sooner, no?

The proposition was attractive to the
easy-going negro. It had the triple
merit of novelty, more authority, and
still more important, additional pay.
The step from wagon boss and truckman
to what was virtually a planter's posi-
tion, controlling an estate of over ten
thousand acres, growing the very crop
with which he was most familiar, even
for a man of recognized merit was a
quick and considerable one, and it
carried the day easily. Untroub'^d by
any qualms at his sudden desertion of
the new home, Butch was on the coast-
ing steamer punctually at three with his
new gang, and the fasts were soon cast
adrift. The little craft idled down the
narrow, crowded river, quickening her
pace as she slipped down the enormous
bay past the mountains surrounding the
winking eye of the Corregidor Light at
its double mouth. Down the coast with
a bone in her teeth she went, threading
her devious way through forbidding clus-
ters of dark and rocky islets barren of
life, or winding slowly and cautiously
along brilliant interior channels of spark-
ling water and flying fish, by gleaming
banks where the fire-tree blazed, the
monkeys and parrots scolded at each
other, and an occasional lazy "cayman"
lay stretched in the sun.

There was consternation that night on
a small scale in Queridaville, and Rosa-
ria, sure an accident had befallen her

lover, searched the town. With the cus-
tomary negligence of the Filipino for
everything that does not immediately
concern his personal welfare, Jimlap, in
the press of business, had forgotten to
notify her of the improvement in the
fortunes of Butch. All night she made
life miserable for her neighbors, search-
ing, and next morning, long before any-
one was to be found in the business sec-
tion of the city, she stood and squatted
on her heels, alternately, in front of the
office, waiting to catch the news from
the first arrival. That she was hungry,
weary and disheveled made no difference
to her. At last the great man came,
portly and important. With tears and
impassioned gestures, she told him of
her missing "querido"; she had been
to all her friends, and to every saloon
between the water front and Ermita.
No one had seen him.

"Whatareyou talking about, woman?"
interrupted the Chino-mestizo, impa-
tient to get to his figures and discounts.

"Del Senor Booch, mi querido, "
she answered huskily.

Jimlap made an impatient gesture, but
he thought for a moment. The name
sounded familiar to him, though he
could not tell, for an instant, where he
had heard it. Suddenly he remembered
the promise made the day before to
Butch, as the latter went aboard the
steamer. With the jangling rapidity of
a brawling mountain stream his snap-
pish explanation tumbled upon the
Tagal woman, and the wildness of the
statement and gestures left her for a
moment entirely speechless. When she
recovered Jimlap was turning away into
his office, and waved back, in response
to her timid question if it were really
true:

" 's verdad; seguro! Fuera — get
out!"

After a whispered conversation with
a clerk who was acquainted with the
facts, and well disposed, she went back,
happy and content, to her baby and the

NANG PATAY-DAANG

165

nipa shack and her father anr1 mother.

The months passed and damp Septem-
ber, sticky and hot, became cool Janu-
ary; January's Winter coolth of eighty-
five degrees in the shade turned at last
into hot, pestilent May. When the
breath of the plague and the quick,
dreadful "peste" (cholera) swooned over
the city, the town grew bare and naked
under the dire fury of the diseases and
the tropic sun, while the people died like
flies and the American government fled
panic stricken to the mountains of cool
Benguet, to Baguio, where they might
escape the folly of having come to a land
not fit for a white man to live in under
the most favorable circumstances. A
dusty quiet was over everything, and
only the saloons and hospitals were
thoroughly alive and active. Felisa,
th^ baby, died, following quickly after
its grandmother, who dropped away in
two hours under the fierce blight of the
cholera; and on top of this double blow
word was brought up from Batangas to
Rosaria that Butch had fallen a victim
to that still more dreadful and ghastly
scourge, leprosy. He had been taken
to Culion, the leper island. He could
never return to Manila.

Rosaria's cheeks of dusk blanched
when she heard the sorry news, and
turning with a cry to her desolate, blind
old father, she refused to be comforted.
Querulous and sick with the heat and
fear of the "peste," the old man listened
to her with scant endurance.

"Yet have I my griefs, too," he
mumbled, toothlessly, "and they be
even greater than thine, immensely
greater, but I do not make miserable
the whole world with their weary story."

Rosaria had no reply to make. She
knew that he expected her to storm at
him, to plead, to argue, to fret. But she
kept silence, and thereby stirred the old
man to sarcasm.

"Why do not you go to Culion and
find this precious "Americano" who
deserted you, if you so beautifully think

of him?" he quavered in a shrilly tremu-
lous whimper bitter with jealousy and
reproach. He could not bear to think
that he and his many troubles were
usurped in Rosaria's mind by an Ameri-
can, even admitting that he was not of
the hated white or "red" complexion.
It seemed to his dimmed intellect beside
the mark entirely that his child, for to
him she was still a child, should even
think of weeping over one of the de-
spised race when she should be
assuaging his woes.

As he spoke the girl raised her head
and stared at him through cold eyes
earnestly, an idea and a memory taking
form and shape in her head. He could
not see the penetrating glance suddenly
shot at him from the deep brown eyes,
but he felt keenly the implied interroga-
tion, and added still more bitterly:

"When go you?"

" 'Manana por la tarde,' " she replied,
sitting up very stiff and straight, and
gathering her brown hair into its cus-
tomary tight knot, " 'parte un vapor a
Culion. Voy en ese.'' And a second
later she added: " 'Nos vamos.' "

"Wrath of God, no!" snarled the in-
valid. "I remain here, and a maledic-
tion upon you if you go."

" 'Bueno,' " answered Rosaria, care-
lessly, for she saw a better plan already.

"'No voy.'" She would not go —
then. But she dried her tears and com-
pressed her thin lips into a pink line
as she remembered the things Gonzala
Ramirez had done by the exercise of
her charms. Gonzala was long dead,
but her witchcraft remained a power in
the person of old Ramon a Del Pan, a
former acolyte at the altar of Gonzala,
and to her, the new "babailana," Rosa-
ria "would go. Her errand was simple,
its reason plain. The heartless "Ameri-
canos" who had the leper settlement in
charge would not permit any visiting of
any sort by the natives. The lepers
must be as dead to their former world
as if they were buried, except when

i66

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

some gubernatorial junketing brought
officials and their ladies on a sight see-
ing trip through the ever growing colony.
Then there was some brief chance to
learn of the beyond, the impossible to
return to, but not for all of them even
then. Rosaria knew all this, but she
believed Ramona had the power to con-
fute the "medicos;" she would get to
Culion, somehow, some way, soon, by
means of the witch's magic.

She told her story, the hag nodding
gravely. It was not by any means the
first sorry tale the wretched old woman
had listened to, nor which she had taken
under advisement. Her withered, white
roofed head was filled with enough dan-
gerous and criminal history to have
burned the town, had she but chosen
to open the secret chambers of her in-
formation to the authorities, who feared
her and her influence almost as much
as did the peasant "taos." She wielded
a power that even the blustering army
men knew better than to offend, and she
could raise or quell a riot by a single
wave of her magic wand. The civil gov-
ernment feared her power but dared
attempt no aggression, while she hated
them heartily and cheerfully.

"Yes, it is possible to go to Culion.
Getting away may not be so easy, but
going there is simple."

"I care not if ever I return!" cried
Rosaria, impulsively. "If mi querido
cannot come, I will not come again. I
will keep him. We shall raise a fine
family there, clean, whole children, who
shall live for us in the world, Las
Filipinas."

Again the hag nodded. The matter
was serious, and she must have time to
think it over before she could devise
a charm for outwitting £nd circumvent-
ing the bad Americanos, the separators
of families. Rosaria must return in a
week.

The old creature had a perfect idea
of what she would use, but it would
never for a moment do to let Rosaria

think the case was so simple. She
would take a week; this was a very short
time, perhaps too short for the credulity
of the befogged young "mestiza." It
might seem a good plan when the week
had expired, to make the petitioner wait
another "ocho dias"; that, however, was
not pressing — it could be determined
upon later.

To the blind man the following seven
days were a nightmare. Never had he
known a woman, and his days and ex-
periences were many, to behave as did
Rosaria, who, on her part, thought of
the old man not at all. Her mind was
busy with Ramona's charm, and the
chances awaiting her for success. To
her he had ceased to be the father, the
helpless parent: he was a mere figure-
head in the household. She had arrived
at a singleness of purpose which wcJuld
have terrified her had she been able to
fathom its real significance. When she
turned to him for sympathy, she received
a sneer, and her heart completely steeled
itself against him. All the nascent,
latent savagery of the hot Malay in-
stinct, handed down from generations
of the China Sea pirates, and ever
smouldering in the Filipino breast under
the perilously thin veneering of occi-
dental quasi-civilization, had burned
through that upper stratum in Rosaria's
nature and left her, tigress-like, with
nothing but the primal instinct of loath-
ing for restraint and abhorrence of any-
thing contrary to her personal wishes and
desires. Through grief she had reverted
to a primal woman, her nature unfettered
and lawless. She had no wish to break
the law; the regulations of the doctors
to mute and limit the scourge were to
her nothing more than an obstacle — and
one easy, with the charm of Ramona,
to circumvent.

At last the week ended, and Rosaria
went back to the old witch for the
charm. The nipa shack in a back alley
of the Trozo "barrio" was dark and evil
smelling. Below it, in a mixture of

NANG PATAY-DAANG

167

slops and kitchen drainage, a few filthy
ducks spattered about noisily. On one
wall hung the inevitable chromo of
Rizal, on the other the equally necessary
"anting-anting" shirt and scapular.
In one corner of the barren room,
decorated with suggestive emblems of
the witch's craft, stood a small brazier
upon which bubbled an earthenware pot
full of some vile concoction that sent a
nausous steam up into the fast gathering
gloom. The air was sicken ingly close
and stagnant, and the added fumes ris-
ing from the seething contents of the pot
made the atmosphere rank and nauseat-
ing. As the gfrl stood waiting, silent,
expectant, Ramona called in her fero-
cious-faced, mangy cat, shut all the
windows and the door, muttering as
she moved, and stirred the pot slowly
as she crooned.

Weird noises outside and in made the
girl shiver and cross herself in momen-
tary abstraction. Back of the house the
spiny fingers of a little clump of bamboo
scraped their nails raspingly against the
wall; upon the closed window a softer
rustle told of the whispering, ten-foot
banana leaves, whipped into rags by
casual gusts of an early monsoon. The
mangy cat's eyes gleamed; the fire
crackled, and Rosaria, new to such grim
ceremony and surroundings, felt dully
terrified. Ramona drew the vessel from
the spitting wood fire, and, motioning
Rosaria to squat in the middle of the
bamboo floor, drew three magic circles
about her with the tail of a stingaree.
Squatting on her skinny haunches in
the circle, facing the frightened girl, she
spoke :

"Bathala declares you cannot pass to
Culion unless you look like a leper,"
began the crone.

Rosaria shuddered to hear the sacred
name of the Father of All Things and the
hideous word mentioned together in
such a connection. She had seen poor
wretches at San Lazaro suffering from
the grim disease, and the idea of having

to appear as one of these appalled and*
repelled her instinctively. But it was
too late to draw back, and the fate that
awaited her Butch stood her in good
stead. She thought to find him still as
hale and outwardly whole as when she
had last seen him, that very morning of
the day he left the city never to return.
No idea of having closely to associate
with the lepers had ever entered her
head. Loathsome creatures that they
were, she had hoped vaguely to get
Butch away to herself, in a house apart,
where she could look after him, and
perhaps — who could say? — finally come
off victor in her fight with the uncon-
querable.

"When the charm cools," went on
Ramona, giving her victim time enough
to weigh the words well, never blinking,
and speaking in a voice that seemed to
Rosaria very far away,'"you must "take
it and drink deep of the cup I have pre-
pared — drink all, without stopping to
take breath."

"Will, will it make me a leper?" in-
terrupted the horror stiffened woman
within the magic circle, faint and weak.

To her full height sprang the hag,
with a threatening and malevolent ges-
ture.

"Be silent, thou foolish one!" she
croaked. "It will keep thee from all
harm; it is 'anting-anting' for thee, but
death for any other. Thou shalt drink
now. Tomorrow cut thine arm with
this sacred spine of the stingaree and
annoint thy small wound from this."

Handing the flexible, spiky tail to
Rosaria, and turning aside to mumble
some terrible cabalistic words which
made the girl tremble, Ramona took
from its hiding place a small tube of
bamboo. A few deft manipulations of
the girl's. mass of rich, black hair, and
the witch had fastened the wooden vial
securely upon the victim's head.

"It will make thee only to appear as
a leper. One week will it take. Then
go thou to the 'Americano medico' in

i68

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

the 'Junta de Sanidad' and ask for help
for thine arm, which thou wilt say has
rheumatism. He — white swine!" — and
the old woman's tone was bitter with
hatred and contempt — "will see in thee
a very evil leper. He will curse thee for
thy delay — he will send thee hastening
down the 'patay-daang' (death trail) to
Culion. Then canst thou find thy
'querido'; but the charm shall keep
thee."

The charm was potent, as Rosaria
found to her cost, yet she went with a
light heart and a smile of anticipation
upon her comely face to meet the doctor,
in spite of the dreadful sick sensation
the potion and the ointment had pro-
duced in her quivering limbs and body.
Certainly she did not expect her indebt-
edness to Ramona to be canceled merely
by the payment of a bag of pesos; she
must undoubtedly pay in bodily sensa-
tions, she reasoned, for the help of the
kind gods. She thrust forward her arm
to the examiner in the crowded dispen-
sary, when her turn came, asking plain-
tively, and with the innocence of igno-
rance, to have her hurt healed.

A glance sufficed the keen-eyed sur-
geon. He started a little as he saw the
pestilent sore, and without a word took
her into an inner room, where were
gathered grave old men in khaki uniforms
bearing the cadeucus prominently on
their collars. The young examiner said
a few sharp, incisive words in the
strange tongue of the foreigners, and the
old men came crowding around her like
eager boys, all talking at once. Rosaria
vacillated between her confidence and
pride in Ramona's ability thus to de-
ceive and make fools of the mad Ameri-
cans, and a vague notion that those
same mad men might perhaps be
right. They were so voluble, -so certain,
that she felt a disagreeable uncertainty
for a few moments. She remembered,
however, the old witch's statement that
the "medicos" would rave, and em-
barked happily enough for her island

prison, joking with the others on the
"patay-daang," secure in being "anting-
anting" through the precious charm.
She had applied the ointment as the old
hag directed, but kept about half the
contents of the little bamboo tube for
use in case of emergency, to apply
again, should it seem necessary. She
had rubbed her arm with it a second
time in the detention camp of the pest-
house at San Lazaro, while waiting in
Manila for the steamer to sail for Culion ;
she could do it again and still have some
left. With the Malay instinct of making
common interest against the whites, the
other prisoners soon knew her story and
applauded her action. If she were
"anting-anting" nothing could harm her;
but nevertheless they tacitly avoided
touching or coming in contact with her,
and Rosaria, noticing their gentle cour-
tesy, was pleased.

Culion, a gleaming emerald in the dark
setting of its jagged, encircling rocks,
rank with coarse tropic vegetation, wel-
comed its new inhabitants. The careful
doctors in charge, not content to exam-
ine only the papers of every new comer,
inspected physically each separate case.
Rosaria, eager, flushed, trembling with
excitement, and peering about for her
Butch, entered the surgery willingly.

"'Su nombre?' " queried the exam-
iner, not unkindly, poising his pen over
the record book and regarding her from
under wiry eyebrows.

"Rosaria Kabkad W'ite" smiled the
girl tremulously.

The grizzled veteran looked up
sharply. "Another one," he sighed to
his assistant who promptly inquired if
she spoke English.

"'Si, senor; si, si.' '

"Well, how old are you?"

"Twent-t'-fi' is my old."

"How you get sick?"

Rosaria hung her head and the doctor
sighed again, but his suspicion was
wrong. In a sterner tone he repeated
his question, asked another, and an-

NANG PATAY-DAANG

169

other, his interest growing with the
almost monosyllabic replies of the girl,
in halting fragments of three languages.
Bit by bit the pitiful story came out;
little by little the surgeon gathered the
main facts of her desertion, of her
attempt to trick the "medicos" in
Manila, how everything had come out
exactly as the witch had said it would,
and how glad she was to get to Culion.
He sat at his desk dazed for a moment
by the sacrifice. It was impossible she
could have deceived the doctors at head-
quarters— it might be — he would ex-
amine her personally. But his interest
overcame his prudence and he said
quietly to her:

"Don't you know the men and
women are segregated here? You can-
not see this worthless man of yours. I'm
sorry, but it's obviously impossible."

Rosaria smiled deprecatingly, waving
her expressive hands and murmuring
a soft " 'no entiendo,' " while the assist-
ant smiled also. The doctor saw it and
recovered himself.

"You no can see 'ese hombre,' " he
said distinctly in 'carabao' dialect. "No
'puedes verle — sabe?' Impossible — no
can do. 'Hombre' no got house, no
got 'casa para' you, 'para mujer.' All
'mujeres, una casa;' all 'hombres, otro
casa — separacion completa. ' '

"No 'puedo — verle — a mi — querido!' '
she gasped, with difficulty accepting the
horrible truth, dimly understanding that
she had made her sacrifice in vain. She
clutched at the rail before the desk, and
the sickening qualms and pains she had
felt before returned with a rush that she
could not but recognize as something
more serious than was due to the first
wearing of "anting- anting." "No —

'puedo — verle ah, Dios !' '

The sharp cry rang through the
sultry office and shrilled out past the
swinging punkahs to waken the
slumbering coolie outside who pulled
the cord in his dreams, as she col-

lapsed at the feet of her questioner.
"See to her, nurse — severe mental
shock; she'll probably be all right in an
hour or so!" exclaimed the chief sur-
geon. "Don't wash her yet. I shall
want to make a careful examination
later. She may not be a leper after all."
He turned to his assistant. "Now
let's have that microscope of yours,"
producing the wooden vial Rosaria had
unwillingly surrendered.

The two men bent eagerly over the
instrument, searching out the secrets
of Ramona's magic ointment, a little
of which lay smeared upon the glass
slide in the microscope. The doctor
straightened up suddenly with a mut-
tered oath and clapped on his spectacles
fiercely.

"Do you recognize it?"
"No sir, not just yet," replied his
aide, fumbling with the focusing screw.
"But there seem to be bacilli of some
kind."

"Seem to be!" shouted the doctor.
"That ointment is 'anting-anting' all
right. The old witch evidently tried
the old scheme of inoculation."

The younger man looked at his chief
with a gasp of horror and the older man
nodded.

"The paste is alive with leprous bacilli
— she can't live a week!"

"But the negro?" querie-1 the young
man, slowly recovering him. « If.

"We'll break the rules 1: is time, I
guess'. Go tell him he can see her once,
just once, mind you, if he wants to. Tell
him he will never see her again. Then
report to me."

The junior surgeon hurried out to the
men's compound, and in ten minutes
came back to find his chief dreaming
bitterly. "Well?"

"I told him, sir, the young fellow stam-
mered, his face pale, "and the brute
only laughed. He said you had told
him he might live thirty years — he would
not risk seeing her!

REMARKS BY OLD JOE HENCHCL1FF

By J. F. Conrad

DBS MOINES, IOWA

SHAKESPEARE says: "He who has
not music in his soul ought to be
handcuffed as a precautionary meas-
ure." Sentimentally, I am disposed to
harmony, but organically I am incap-
able of a tune. I don't feel just like
letting the foregoing sentence go as
mine, because I have a notion that it
has been said before by Dean Swift, or,
maybe, by Charles Lamb. Anyhow, it
fits me to a mathematical nicety. The
best I can do is to make the tune I am
trying to sing sound more like the tune
tried to be sung than like any other.

I used to go to singing school with
my father years and years ago, before
boys in the country commenced wearing
overcoats or underclothes. I remember
it was in a little frame school house in
Jackson Township. The only musical
instrument within fourteen miles was
a tuning fork. Jim Bussell was the
musical director, and he was the owner
of the fork. The music that used to
rush out of that old school house and
float across the prairies when the door
was opened by some late comer was lit-
tle short of being inspired. When the
Armour girls used to sing, "We'll chase
the antelope over the plains," etc., I
was filled to the brim with awe inspir-
ing rapture; and I wasn't alone, either.
Their singing filled the bill. Everyone
in the neighborhood was satisfied with
it; and there was no longing for any-
thing better. For my part, I have never
heard anything since that could equal it.

Then, when the first organ came into
the neighborhood, it didn't take them
long to outgrow the tuning fork; people
would come for miles to hear those girls
play; and the way they rattled off
"Shall We Gather at the River" and
"Over Jordan" was more entrancing
than anything Paderewski ever worked
off on his piano. It was absolutely

beyond criticism. But, there it is again
— increased ability to appreciate: in-
creased inclination to criticise. I don't
know how others are affected, but when
I hear one of those old time tunes it
calls me back to the first time that I
heard it, and unless someone disturbs
me by presenting me with a bill, I will
waste an hour that ought to be put in
at something profitable, like counting
my money.

What started me in this line was this:
The other day a colored man came into
my office and wanted to wash my
windows. I let him, because I realized
that I would never do the job myself;
and then, he had a lame leg. While
he was at work he kept humming away
at "Nickodemus Was a Slave of Afri-
can Descent." After a while I asked
him to sing it. He did, and it called
me back to the time when, just a child,
my father took me by the hand and we
went to singing school together, where
Jim Bussell, with his tuning fork, was
musical director and orchestra com-
bined. I remember paying the man for
his work on my windows, but I was still
dreaming when he left. There I sat in
that little old school house, with its
smoked ceiling and its benches. No
high priced seats with a patent on them;
only a plain linn slab maufactured by
a man with a hatchet and a two-inch
auger. In those days it seemed to me
there was always snow on the ground in
the Wintertime and continuous sunshine
in the Summer. Every brook had water
in it, and you could throw a line out
most any place and get a bite.

What a lot of things a fellow can
remember that happened when he wore
his pants out at the knees and made
whistles out of willow withes.

A stretch of sunshine, a warm day in
May, and an old tune — and I can hear

REMARKS BY OLD JOE HENCHCLIFF

171

today as plainly as I could when a child
— the bees humming away among the
locust blossoms — that's what makes me
think I am sentimentally disposed to
harmony.

I like to hear these old settlers talk.
I am something of an old settler myself;
and there is nothing that entertains me
so much as to have some good old citi-
zen, who was a trifle sinful in his youth,
take me back to the time when I had
to wash my chapped feet before going to
bed; take me away from tax paying time
and life insurance dues and the sublime
wisdom of the mulct law, and let me go
with him about four miles from home to
a neighbor's and stay all night, like I
used to do.

Old Joe Henchcliff was one of those
old fellows I liked to hear talk. He was
sufficiently sinful to suit me. He lived
in the past. There were no smarter
•men, to his notion, than John C. Cal-
houn and Andrew Jackson. There was
never the man born who could lick
John C. Heenan, and the horse was
never heard of that could outrun Long-
fellow or Harry Bassett. They gave
away better whiskey by the bucketful
then than they sell now for fifteen cents
a drink from a choke-necked bottle
— so Joe often told me. Here is the
way he used to rattle on, after I had
filled my pipe for him:

"Lord, Lord! I came to this state in
the Spring of 1839; settled near Burling-
ton— came from Indiana, just with my
wife and a yoke of oxen, and every liv-
ing thing we owned was in the wagon.
Our nearest neighbor was four miles
away, and not a fence between us, —
nothing but rosin weeds and blue stem;
neighbors came fourteen miles to help
me lay the logs for my house, and there
was not one of them but what would
have been insulted had I offered to pay
him for his day's work. It does beat
the world how we could get along in
those days as we did. I mowed grass
with a scythe and my wife stacked the

hay. Then, when she went to get din-
ner, I mowed more grass. Then, when
Saturday night came, we yoked up the
oxen (danged if I can remember their
names!) then we would go, maybe, five
miles and stay all night with one of the
neighbors, and all day Sunday, too.
Popped corn and cracked hickory nuts,
most generally made taffy, and laughed
and joked, and came dad burned near
kissing one another's wives, too, by
gunney! Dum it, do you know they
don't laugh like they used to? You can
hang around this town for a month and
you won't hear an old fashioned laugh
during the whole time. Why, when I
first came here, if one settler would
meet another in the road, if you was
a mile away you would hear 'em laugh
before they separated.

"Everybody went to church Sunday;
and after meeting was out we either
brought some of the neighbors home
with us to dinner, or we went with
them. Lord, how things have changed!
"I still live on a farm, but there
hasn't been a neighbor to my house for
over twenty-five years to stay all night.
This civilization that you read about has
played havoc with those good old times,
when one neighbor would help another
without expecting pay, when we used to
borrow and lend with the same degree
of pleasure. The change is everywhere.
Even the buckwheat that you get nowa-
days don't make you scratch.

"I used to *think that Uncle Sam
looked a good deal like Andrew Jack-
son, but dummed if I don't believe now
that he has changed, too. He has taken
on more belly and less legs, and I'll be
torn down forever, if he don't remind
me of Pierrepont Morgan. Yes; this
blessed civilization that we have has
kind of run to pianos, padlocks and
pussy men. I lived for thirty years in
this state and never had a lock, and
never missed a bit of meat or a bushel
of wheat, but I have noticed since they
began to get pianos and church choirs

172

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

and evangelists and prohibition, you
have got to lock up.

"Sometimes I think it is just because
I am getting old and imagine these
changes, but it can't be. I don't know
what to make of it. Maybe civilization
didn't take on me. I'm just like I
always was, it seems to me. Nothing
would tickle me more than to have some
of the neighbors dropping in on me
and the old lady every Saturday night,
all unawares, and stay until Sunday
evening. I'd just like to drive up to
old John Crawford's tonight with the
wagon bed full of kids and surprise
them, like we used to do. But it
wouldn't do. That kind of thing is
out of style. Stair carpets and door
knobs have knocked the life out of old
fashioned sociability. I believe it is
worse in the country than it is in
town. Why, if you ever go and take
dinner with a neighbor now, you must
have an invitation — and in writing, too,
by jocks! Then, after dinner, if you
want to smoke, you have got to go out
to the barn.

"What's become of all the old flowers
we used to have? — pinks, bachelor but-
tons and four-o' clocks? There is only
one locust tree in Jackson Township,
and that is right by my well. Hired
hand wanted to cut it down last Spring,
and it made me so all-fired mad that
I'd have fired him if it hadn't been just
in corn planting time. There isn't any-
thing that smells any "puttier, to my
notion, than a locust blossom. When
that tree is in bloom, I like to go out
in the morning, when the dew is glisten-
ing among them blossoms, and pull
down a limb, easy like, without shaking
off the dew, and smell 'em. Diamonds
and pearls all mixed together, bathed in
the finest perfume in the world; and
that hired man wanted to cut it down!
You don't blame me for getting kind
of hot, do you? Yes, sir; they have cut
down nearly all the locust trees in the
country, just because they were not up

to date — wasn't in keeping with our high
priced civilization. You can't hardly
mortgage a farm nowadays, unless you
have evergreen trees in the front yard
and an oleander in a dad burned old
tub settin' by the corner of the house.
I expect some people will say that I am
dyspeptic. I heard a fellow say the
other day that happiness and content-
ment are the result of a good digestion;
but I have figured it out that good diges-
tion is the result of happiness and con-
tentment.

"They have changed the style in dogs,
too. You don't see any of those honest,
old fashioned dogs that when they looked
at you seemed to know what you were
thinking about. He has changed, too,
into a little, white, pussy looking beast
that has to be led around with a string
to keep him from committing suicide.
By Georgetown! that makes me think
of a little thing that happened to me-
when I was a boy. It was in Indiana;
and I had just started out to go with my
first girl — never went with but two, and
am living with one of them now. Well,
I was taking this girl home from spell-
ing school, my second or third effort,
I think, and when we got to the gate the
dog came running out and grabbed me
by the britches leg; before the girl could
do anything, I hauled off and gave that
cur a kick in the side, and he gave one
little yelp, and he has been still ever
since. I didn't think about killing him;
just done it to show off. I saw my mis-
take, but I couldn't make it right. I
might just as well have killed her dad.
That night when I went home, I remem-
ber, I was so broken up and so mad at
myself that I grabbed hold of the corner
of a rail fence and jerked down about
four -rods.

"Just look how they conduct a politi-
cal campaign now. I used tp see fights
at the polls. In fact, I have fit some
myself. We had some stirring times in
politics; but, Lord! it wasn't the kind
they have nowadays. You never used

REMARKS BY OLD JOE HENCHCLIFF

to hear of a man spending a thousand
dollars and buying a car load of beer to
be elected to a $250 office. Why, they
spend more money nowadays to elect
a president than it used to take to run
the government, by Jiminy! You don't
hardly reckon the president puts it up,
do you? Take any office, almost, from
school director up, and you will find one
of the candidates backed by the big con-
cerns, and they pour out money to elect
their man. Which, do you reckon,
makes them do it, patriotism or pecu-
niary profits?

"Look here; let me tell you what this
is coming to. Every time there is an
election now, what do you see? Why,
if it is an election of any importance,
for weeks or months before the election
there is an army of men at work, all
paid, too. Beer and whiskey by the
carload are distributed all over the coun-
try. I heard of one place in '96 where
they shipped in seven bar'ls of gin just
for fellows that had kidney trouble, and
couldn't go whiskey.

"Of course it is lots worse in town
than out with us. I was here during
your late primary, when they was trying
to see who was the best man for mayor.
I kind of visited around, went into the
different headquarters, and heard and
saw about the same thing in each. It
went about like this: A fellow would
come in and say that down where he
boarded there were seventeen fellows
that the other side was trying to get,
and he had held them back, but he
couldn't be responsible for their votes
any longer unless they sent a 'race
horse' and a box of cigars. This fellow
was all right, anyhow, but he had to
have the beer and cigars for the other
fellows. Then there were the fellows

that had to have money to fix certain
other fellows who could not be made
to see the right side with beer or
whiskey.

"I am not used to as big a place as
this; but it seems to me that during the
four or five days that I took in things,
every voter in town, almost, was at
one headquarters or the other wanting
beer, whiskey, cigars or money. Then
on the day of the primary I saw four
or five carriages at each polling place
from morning until night. What were
they doing? Why, hauling able bodied
citizens up to the polls to vote! Beer,
whiskey and cigars are not enough; you
have got to go and haul them out, or
they won't vote; and the time is com-
ing, if this thing isn't shut off, when
you are going to have to put a dollar
in these people's hands before they get
into the hack. What does the right of
franchise amount to to such people?
Do you think there is much patriotism
back of their ballots? The time ain't
far off when these people will tell Uncle
Sam to take his striped rag and go to
hell with it.

"I just had it on my tongue to say
I wouldn't blame them much, either;
but that is too strong, I guess. What is
there in it for the common, every day
voter, anyhow? He votes for aldermen
and representatives and congressmen;
then he goes back to his work and a
lot of lobbyists see that the laws are
made. You can't blame a man much
because he thinks he is worth a little
when a lobbyist is worth so much.

"I'll be dummed switched, if I knew
just what an anarchist was, I'd be one.

"Say, I expect I'm keeping you from
work. Where did you get this to-
backer?"

THE SPENDTHRIFT

By Eugene C. Dolson

He spends beyond his gains and need must borrow, trusting his future to the whim of fate ;
How can he ever think to bear, tomorrow, a double burden's weight?

HATTIE WILLIAMS, A MODEST BOSTON BEAUTY

Photograph by Burr Mclntosh Studio

BEAUTIES OF THE AMERICAN STAGE

By Helen Arthur

NEW YORK CITY

XXVI
ELSIE JAN1S

THAT zealous organization, the Society
for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children,
otherwise known as the Gerry Society, has
in this instance wrought a hardship towards
adults, since it has, until the Summer of
1905, kept out of New York one of the most
unusual of mimics, Elsie Janis, a little miss
just sixteen. Skill in mimicry is not a neces-
sary accomplishment for a player, nor is it
always a help but in its highest development
it would seem to show the presence of real

talent. Besides Miss Janis, there are only
two actresses who are widely known mimics —
Fay Templeton and Cecilia Lof tus, and both
of these are clever and versatile artists.

I saw Elsie's mother first; I fancy every-
one sees her mother first, as Mrs. Janis keeps
a close guard over her youthful daughter.
It was Mrs. Janis who warned me against a
cut and dried method of interviewing Miss
Elsie ; it was Mrs. Janis who introduced us,
but it was a small dolly that really brought
us together. Little Miss Janis had curled
herself up in the corner of a huge divan, and
was keeping her big brown eyes fastened on
me in the most disconcerting "say something,

BEAUTIES OF THE AMERICAN STAGE

'75

ELSIE JANIS, A PRETTY MIMIC OF SWEET SIXTEEN
Photograph copyright 19O5 by Hall New York

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

won't you ? " way, when wedged in close at
her side I caught sight of a pink and white
papier mache face, and I fell upon dolly as
an opening wedge in our conversation.
• u Some one gave her to me," she said, for
my last doll." With this, she danced dolly
out on the couch and having apparently for-
gotten me, she continued, to dolly : " Your
mother's grown up, your mother's grown up."
This didn't look much like it, so dolly was
made to sit carefully beside her curly haired
mamma.

"It isn't a bit hard, playing as I did this
Summer. I just go on and do my imitations
and in half an hour I am through. I met
Sam Bernard one day, and as I wanted to
see his new play, I asked him what days he
played matinees. (Right here I could have
sworn it was Sam Bernard talking in his
queer German dialect.)

" 'Veil, ve real actors, ve undly plays Sat-
urday matinee.' "

" ' I can go you one better than that, Mr.
Bernard, I don't play any matinees.'

" ' Yes, but you play in a skylight.' "

I saw how naturally and easily she imita-
ted, by this little example, and I wondered
if her pretentious imitations took much time
or effort.

" No, I never think of it as work. I go to
see some player that I like,— sometimes I go
to see him twice in the same piece, and then
I come home and 'take him off.' I used to
do this to amuse the family when I was a
youngster out in Columbus, Ohio, where I
was born. I never expected to go on the
stage. Mother says that I am her own wish
for herself come true— perhaps that is why I
am getting along so nicely.

" This Winter I am to play in ' The Little
Duchess,' Anna Held's role, which has been
rewritten for me. It's American now,
not French, and I think I shall enjoy it.
What I really want to play in is an opera
with a sustained plot — a real chance to act;
and then -- good music."

I fear that — the way the musical comedies
are being turned out these days — little Miss
Janis will be an old lady before she gets her
wish.

THERE is hardly an actress better known
• from one end of this country to the other
than Phoebe Davis, the long-suffering hero-
ine of " Way Down East."

This is the beginning of the ninth year in

which she played long seasons in it, and on
September 7, 1905, when she took her last
curtain call, she had rounded out 365 days in
one theater, the big Academy of Music in
New York City. This play is one of the
best examples of rural drama. Just why the
dramatized barnyard should appeal so
strongly to all ranks of society is a mystery.
"Way Down East" has earned over a mil-
lion dollars for its managers, William A.
Brady and Joseph Grismer.

Its overwhelming success is due in a large
measure to Mr. Grismer's elaboration and
especially the realistic snow storm in one of
the acts, the mechanism of which is entirely
Mr. Grismer's invention.

Phoebe Davis is so free from affecta-
tion that it is a pleasure to talk to her.
" To play one role constantly is much more
of a strain than to change one's play weekly.
As ' Anna Moore ' I have undoubtedly wept
more tears than any other player would have
to in a lifetime on a stage. My first season
in the part I was so keenly alive to it, felt
the girl's wrongs so strongly, that I some-
times continued to sob after I had reached
my dressing room, but now the story is so
old to me that I am obliged to work myself
into the mood of sadness.

" I used to recite to myself ' The Rosary,'
but the effect from that wore away, and now
I read portions of Olive Schreiner's ' Story
of An African Farm.'

" I have a horror of becoming mechanical,
and I am as nervous when playing return
engagements as ever I was on the opening
night.

" It is a dreadful thing to become identi-
fied with one line of parts ; I want to play a
comedy role, something where I can laugh,
just to show that I haven't forgotten how."

Miss Davis is Welsh ; her father having
come to California in the days of the argo-
nauts, and her first opportunity to go on tne
stage was given to her by Mr. Belasco. He
was the assistant stage manager for Bald-
win's Theater in San Francisco, and, fright-
ened as Miss Davis was, she recited an
entire scene for him. What she did pleased
young David Belasco and he gave her a part
in the stock company. His leading man
was Joseph Grismer, who promptly fell in
love with her and married her and together
they started the Grismer-Davis Company.

She told me about playing a juvenile part
which called for pigtails and short skirts,
and after the performance was over the
manager came back to her dressing room
and said : " There are about two dozen small
girls at the stage door waiting to see you."
When she thought of their disappointment

BEAUTIES . OF THE AMERICAN STAGE

PHOEBE DAVIES OF "WAY DOWN EAS1':I FAME
Photograph by Benjamin Cincinnati

i78

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

at seeing her in long skirts and hair done up,
she decided to stay in her dressing room
until, tired out, they had gone.

"There is nothing worse than to be dis-
illusionized," so she told me, and I think she
is right.

XXVIII
HATT1E WILLIAMS

THE first thing Miss Williams did at sight
of me was to enter into a vigorous pro-
test against being entered in a " Beauty
Show." I promised to keep the title of this
department as far removed in print from her
as possible, and to announce that she does
not consider herself in the running.

She is delightfully Irish, and has a very
keen sense of humor. "These actresses who
take themselves and their roles and their
attitudes before the public so seriously, make
me laugh,"— and laugh she did.

Here's a sample : " A newspaper woman
told me of interviewing a certain dancer who
said, for publication, she had never taken
dancing lessons, but instead originated all
her steps. As it happened, this same young
person's hours with her dancing master pre-
ceded mine. Then the physical culturists
who never eat after the theater, somehow
one happens to sit next to them mighty often
at Sherry's. It may be all very well to have
a pose, but I know I'd forget it at the wrong

time. I was born and lived in Boston, but
whenever I mention it, someone bobs up and
says : ' Back Bay ? ' and after I inquire
whether they mean the new or old divid-
ing line, they rarely ever wait to find out
that an ordinary neighborhood knew me
best."

Miss Williams began in the chorus, but
her happy face and infectious laugh soon
earned her a small part, then a bigger one,
with Rogers Brothers, and last year and this
she has been leading woman with Sam Ber-
nard. "The opening night of 'The Girl
from Kay's,' the first play in which Mr. Ber-
nard has starred, would have been the last of
us if the public had listened to the critics.
Mr. Bernard's nervousness was only matched
by mine, and the more indistinct he became,
the louder I spoke, until finally I was yelling
at the top of my lungs.

" I have a dreadful time on opening nights ;
after that I manage to enjoy myself I often
pick out a particularly solemn looking mortal
in the seventh row of the orchestra and keep
on watching him until I have at last amused
him — (I can see my audience way back to
the last row) — then I always know how much
fun they are getting out of my performance."

" I hear that you are to be a star this
Winter?"

" So I hear ; I even hear that the date is
Christmas, and my vehicle ' The Duchess of
Folies BergeVe,' but I do not hear the news
from my managers. Wonder if I'll be the
last one they tell ! "

MICHAEL RYAN, CAPITALIST

A STORY OF LABOR

By F. F. D. Albery

COLUMBUS, OHIO

XIX

AMONG THOSE PRESENT
U I FEEL as though I ought not to go
• to a big, gay party — particularly to
a dancing party— while all this distress
is abroad and so many terrible things
happening and likely to happen," said
Michael Ryan to his wife one evening
a short time after the occurrences last
narrated had happened. "I wish our
friends would not give parties now."

"I feel so, too," said Mrs. Ryan, "but
still they are our friends, and we cannot
stay away without offending them. Be-
sides, the Wrights have nothing to do
with the mill or our trouble."

"That is all true," responded Ryan,
"but they are rich people — so called
capitalists — and the poor fellows who are
out of work will notice it and draw sharp
contrasts. I suppose we might as well
go as stay away, but I tell you I don't
like it and wish as a matter of policy
they'd stop giving them. For myself
I have no heart in social matters now,
and there is no pleasure to be got
out of it at such a time as this, when
any minute may bring some new
horror."

"I sympathize with you in all of that,
my dear, and would much rather stay at
home, or if possible be at work relieving
some of the distress. By the way, I
find a great deal of trouble in getting
at some of the families. They are too
proud to accept help, and will often say
they have plenty when it is apparent
they are in distress. Only today I
talked with a woman over on the hill
who said she needed nothing, while two
of the children stood back in the door
with pale face and tear stained eyes,

looking half starved; and even while the
woman was saying to me that the union
was providing them with plenty, a
child's voice, evidently from the bed
inside, called out: 'Oh, mammy, I'm so
hungry!' I didn't wait to argue with
her any longer but went straight into the
house, sat down and talked it out with
her, with the result that she confessed
they had had nothing but a few potatoes
for several days. She seemed to be
under instructions to deny her want and
to claim that the union could be relied
on to sustain them during the strike. I
tried to get from her the names of others,
but on this point she was absolutely
silent, fearing, I suppose, exposure.
What can we do with such conditions
prevailing? No matter how much we
want to aid, we are practically power-
less. It is this which makes me heart-
sore and out of patience with any effort
to perform social functions. I can't get
the faces of those children out of my
mind—they were evidently trained, too,
but they couldn't get the hunger out of
their eyes, and I can't get it out of my
heart."

"Well, dear," said he, "we'll go to
the Wrights and see if we cannot forget
it for a little time in the happiness and
gaiety of all those devotees of society.
They'll be light hearted enough, I assure
you."

At the ball it was all color and bril-
liancy. The house was beautiful and
beautifully illuminated from top to. bot-
tom, for Wright had made a great for-
tune in chewing gum, and spending
money lavishly was his fad. He owned
a yacht; had recently bought a great
stablef of valuable racing horses; paid
thousands of dollars for pictures, books,

i8o

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

bric-a-brac of all kinds, and entertained
like a prince.

The rooms and halls were filled with
a most fashionable and aristocratic as-
sembly, for be it known that even the
"noveau riche" in our beloved land have
only to wait till their dollars are able to
assert themselves in order to hobnob
with the ancient families, and in the
second generation all is forgotten and
forgiven, for* are not our aristocracy but
newly descended from those who in their
day were themselves the "noveau riche,"
and would it not be ridiculous to carry
resentment beyond one generation? So
it happens that he who only yesterday
had the corner peanut stand, or drove
the team, or clerked in the dry goods
store, or mayhap stood behind the bar,
may today, if he has acquired money
enough to have a good house and a horse
and carriage and belong to the business
men's club, be tolerated and in due time
his children adopted into full fellowship;
and to his pecunious daughters we marry
our impecunious sons, and vice versa.

Mrs. Ryan was waltzing with one of
the younger men, and Ryan, who was
always a wallflower, was standing in
a corner talking to half a dozen women
and girls.

He had never before felt so disgusted
at the free display of flesh on the part
of the women, and it was hard for him
to be at all polite to some of the more
extreme ones. It seemed to him so un-
necessary that a woman should display
her breasts in public simply because it
is fashionable or supposed to add to her
beauty and attractiveness, and when it
came to the scrawny ones, who put them-
selves at a disadvantage beside their
plumper sisters, it was absolutely sick-
ening. He actually tried to run away
from one woman who seemed in the last
stages of falling to pieces as to her dress.
One half was already off, and poor Ryan
did not want to be present when the rest
dropped off. He did not know that it
was simply an imitation of a dress worn

by the Countess De Cotchomeyer at the
big mid-Winter ball at the Waldorf. But
he could see that it affected unpleasantly
some even of the hardened ones
who could stand much in the way of
daring display, and he was glad to note
that there might be a possible limit
even to fashion's folly.

He could not help thinking of the
arbitrary dictates of the labor unions and
comparing them to the arbitrary dictates
of fashion. W7hat right had fashionable
people to denounce the servile obedience
to the decrees of the unions on the part
of laboring men, when here we are at
a fashionable gathering of the best we
are supposed to have, the most educated,
the most cultivated, the most indepen-
dent, the alleged refined, with our wives
and daughters half naked simply be-
cause a queen in a foreign country once
decreed that no woman should appear
at her court otherwise. Free country in-
deed! Fashion and labor unions decree-
ing against sense and decency, and all
of us in abject submission !

And the words of the Master came
back to him, "Let him who is without
sin cast the first stone."

Nor was he reassured by the conversa-
tion. Chancing to notice that one of
the girls had a black ribband on her
arm, he inquired about it, and was told
that it was mourning for a school friend
who had recently died. "You know it's
all the rage, Mr. Ryan, to wear mourn-
ing ribbands on the arm. It's the latest
thing out." That was indeed pushing
fashion into the grave to intrude upon
the sacredness of death! The latest
thing out for the latest thing inl

Later they were talking of the growing
habit of drinking among fashionable
folk. No dinner was complete without
wine with each course, but one of the
ladies declared that she had no use for
a man who got drunk with the soup.
Evidently the line must be drawn some-
where, and why not at soup?

Everybody was following a fad of some

MICHAEL RYAN, CAPITALIST

181

kind, and the intellectual fad in the
shape of the club was beginning to
assert itself. Many of the women had
"had a paper" at some club meeting.
Some affected music, and those who
could neither play nor sing and were
barren of papers, would invite someone
capable of these things to entertain her
friends by doing some kind of "stunt,"
as they called it.

It was a great case of imitation. So
far as they could, they imitated the
Newport set, and whenever anything
particularly outlandish was done among
the cottage people there it was straight-
way imitated by this servile mob with
which Michael Ryan, Capitalist, was
now compelled to associate.

He got along very well with them in
ordinary times, for it was curious and
new to him and he was unconsciously
making a psychological study of it all,
but now he was utterly out of patience
and wanted to get away.

Suddenly he was called to the library
where a messenger waited to tell him that
the main works were on fire and sur-
rounded by a howling mob. He only
waited to tell his wife where he was
going, and hurried off with several other
men for the mill.

SUSPENSE

. If Mrs. Ryan had been anything less
than heroic she would have collapsed
when her husband told her what was
going on and of his intention to go to
the mill to do what he could, for Ryan
had talked often to his wife about the
danger he was in daily. He had not
kept back from her his own forebodings
as to what would be his ultimate fate.
On the contrary he had frankly told her
of the jealous hatred of many of the
men, most of whom referred to his good
fortune as a piece of "bull luck" for
which he deserved no credit whatever;
and while this in a way coincided with
his own view, it was far from the truth.

His own expression was the result of
excessive modesty as to his achieve-
ments, while the other was that of pure
malice. But Mrs. Ryan's nature was
brave, and although her heart sank she
betrayed no sign of weakening. She
knew it was his duty, and she knew
moreover that nothing that she could say
or do would swerve him from that duty.
She loved his courage as much as any
other of his manly traits and she was
glad that her husband did not flinch
when faced by physical or moral danger.
He did not avoid the issue, and some-
times when it seemed inevitable he
courted it and invited its quick coming
in preference to putting off the evil day.
Apparently it did not occur to him that
some evils might be avoided by putting
off the evil day. She knew, moreover,
that he was not reckless, that he would
not court unnecessary danger, but that
wherever his duty led him he would go
at once and without any symptoms of
fear.

She obeyed his instructions as well
as she could by remaining at the party
till the usual hour of departure, but all
thought of gaiety had fled from her
breast, and what a short time ago was
frivolity had now become a hollow mock-
ery. She could not dance, and she now
found herself the center of a group who
questioned her about the situation inces-
santly.

"Do you think, Mrs. Ryan," asked
a sweet faced matron, "that those ugly
union men have set fire to the works?"

"I would hardly like to say it in just
that way," answered she. "Some of
them may be union men, but I don't
like to believe that they have done it
because they are union men or that their
unions countenance it. I would much
rather believe that only the worst of the
individual workmen, acting for them-
selves and without even the knowledge
of their organizations, are the guilty
ones."

"Why, I thought you all were bitterly

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opposed to the unions," said another
whose Paris gown covered only part of her
body. "I am," she added, "and I think
they all ought to be hung. That would be
the best way of disposing of the question.
I would like to see a law passed that would
make it a felony to belong to a union,
and I don't see how people in your posi-
tion, I mean who employ so many of
these outlaws, can help feeling in the
same way."

"I couldn't feel that way if I tried,"
said Mrs. Ryan. "In the first place
there is nothing intrinsically wrong in
the idea of a union. Its object is good
and they do great good. I would en-
courage them. A good local is the fair
equivalent of a club, which, properly
managed, can not only amuse but edu-
cate."

Here one of the men broke in :

"Yes, but how can you prevent them
from becoming the hot beds of commun-
ism and anarchy? The minute you con-
cede the union, your argument against
their acts is gone."

"Oh, no, indeed!" stoutly maintained
the wife of Michael Ryan, unionist and
capitalist in one. "It doesn't take a
labor union to make an anarchist — in
fact the worst men of that sort are not
union men at all, but are more apt to be
men of solitary habits who have brooded
over their misfortunes and thought it
out for themselves, and you might de-
stroy all the unions in Christendom and
still they would exist — the hotbed would
be there just the same. The unions are
not necessarily breeding places for com-
munism, and it is possible that in some
instances the unions save and prevent
trouble. I can easily imagine a well
regulated local with a few influential
members with level heads and honest
purpose which would be a safeguard
against much ordinary trouble and pos-
sibly- also now and then a conservator
of the peace. I am inclined to believe
that if the unions could be purely local
in their influence and would not permit

the interference of outside influence they
would be instruments of great good and
would be a great aid to the employers of
labor in dealing with the men, because
it is always an advantage to have a con-
crete body representing the whole mass
of laboring men. They are more suscep-
tible to reason, and they can be shown
things and demonstrations can be made
to them that would be beyond the mass.
No, I would not abolish or even dis-
courage the unions. If we could only
educate the individual to the point
where he could comprehend the ordi-
nary conditions of business and finance,
with the effects of fluctuation in prices,
the greater part of the difficulty would
be solved."

"When is this millennium of yours to
come?" jocosely asked another.

"It never will come," responded she
with great seriousness, "so long as- peo-
ple on our side of the question make
light of it or set it down as impossible,
and those on the other side refuse to
consider it seriously because they don't
believe we are in earnest. Joking is a
good way to dispose of some things, but
not of a great, serious question like
this," and feeling that enough had been
said, she cleverly turned the conversa-
tion to the latest announced engagement
in the fashionable world and soon after
withdrew.

XXI

HALL'S HOME
If ever a woman tried conscientiously
and without apparent weariness in her
work to make a good home for her hus-
band and children, that woman was
Mrs. Charlie Hall. She was industrious
— never flagging in her work even when
overtaken by illness. She was frugal to
a degree, saving much and making every
single thing count in the household econ-
omy. She did all of her cocking and
washing, made all the clothes and even
blacked the children's shoes when neces-
sary. Her children were always the

MICHAEL RYAN, CAPITALIST

'83

cleanest and neatest in the schools, and
at Sunday school, where the wives and
daughters of the well to do did not hesi-
tate to take part, it was always remem-
bered that the Hall children looked as
though they had just been let out of
a bandbox. They were bright, too, and
popular, and no one to see them on
dress parade would have believed you
had you told him that they were the
offspring of that poor drunkard, Charlie
Hall.

As already intimated, the Ryans had
aided them whenever it was possible,
but Mrs. Hall had restricted the aid to
the children, for whom she was willing
and glad to have help; but even with
that it held her hard at work day and
night to keep things going and to main-
tain that degree of respectability which
to her was all of life. Her mother in-
stinct would cause her to sacrifice every
one of her own comforts only so her
children could make a good appearance
and be treated with the same degree of
respect with which all children of re-
spectable parents were treated. Her
own independence would not allow her
to accept all the aid that was offered,
and the Ryans soon learned to know
that they must not patronize the little
woman, and it was often the case that
much diplomacy was required to prevent
her from refusing what was most deli-
cately offered.

It could not truthfully be said that
Hall did not love and respect his wife.
He did both, and in a maudlin way was
often quite sentimental about it, but his
mentality was so much weakened by his
excesses and the constant nervous ex-
citement in which he kept himself that
he neither fully appreciated her worth
nor was in condition much of the time
to be of great service to her. During
one of his terms of sobriety and effort
Ryan had persuaded him to make an
arrrangement concerning his wages
whereby they were paid to his wife,
and she gave him a small part each

month for his personal use. This had
so relieved his mind of anxiety that he
had apparently forgotten all about the
sources of revenue and did not marvel
at the fact that things went on about as
usual whether he worked or was idle.
The children were clothed and there was
something to eat, and whence it came
or how long it would last troubled him
not a bit.

The one topic about which he and his
wife could never agree was Ryan; for
Hall had grown so unreasonable in his
jealousy of Ryan's success that he now
never referred to him without abuse.

"He's grown to be an infernal aristo-
crat," said Hall. "The idea of that
Irishman who was born in a railroad
shanty lording it over his betters. And
all because he hit upon an invention
that any fool could have made."

"But Charlie," said she, "he's your
old friend and playmate and always
wants to be friends with you. He goes
out of his way to keep on good terms
with you. I don't see why you can't
see that he likes you. If you would only
let him be your friend he'd be the best
friend you ever had."

"Yes, but he patronizes me, and I
can't bear that. Besides, he don't treat
the other men right. He's gone back
on the union, and all the men hate
him. If he'd treat us all alike it would
be easier. But he soft soaps me and
hardly recognizes Kitchen."

"I don't blame him for treating
Kitchen with indifference," retorted
Mrs. Hall with some show of feeling,
"for of all evil minded and evil acting
men in the mill, he's the worst. They
say he treats his family awfully. Beats
his wife and little children and gives
them none of his wages if he can help
it. He is a bad man, and I wish you
had never seen him."

"He understands the labor problem
all right, though," said Hall; "none
of those swelled head capitalists can
match him in argument, and he can

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convince the men every time he
makes a speech."

"What does he know about business,
anyhow?" said the little woman. "I've
heard him talk. He raves about the
rights of the laboring man and his family
and the dignity of labor and the part
labor takes in turning the raw material
intc a marketable, finished product, and
the poor fools howl applause because
they don't know any better, and then
he goes off and gets drunk and beats
his family and lets them go half naked
and half starved. I'm sick of that kind
of argument. If he'd go to work like
a man, and care for his family like a
man, he'd have no time to be raving
about the wrongs of labor. Men like
Bill Kitchen do the cause of labor more
harm than good. In fact, he is not so
much a laboring man as he is a loafer,
and I wish he'd go away from here
and never come back."

Feeling perhaps that some part of this
criticism might apply to himself, Hall
decided to close the conversation, and
started out of the house, but not until
he had fired a parting shot.

"Well, you'll see that Mr. Ryan and
his friends will get the worst of it this
time. They don't own the universe,
and they can't have everything their
own way all the time."

And Mrs. Hall, feeling that there was
something ominous in his words, went
about her tasks weary and heartsore,
knowing how much it would have meant
to her and her children had her husband
maintained his friendship with Ryan, or
even given the latter a chance to be-
friend him.

XXIII

KRUGER, GILL & WAMSER

The owners of the giant mills which
were now in the throes of a great
"strike" were typical American business
men. One had inherited his fortune,
or, as is sometimes said, had been wise
in the choice of his parents, and had

brought into the concern the solid back-
ing which it needed to tide over times
of loss and lack of business. The others
were so called self made men, that is
to say, men who had, by hard work and
close economy, accumulated comfortable
fortunes — the most egotistical and arro-
gant of all the race of men, as a general
thing. Not that these particular men
were of the offensively self made sort,
but simply that they belonged to that
class. Being self made seems, as a
general proposition, to swell the vanity
of a weak minded man inordinately, for
be it known and reluctantly set down,
they are usually not only uneducated
but ignorant, and the instinct which en-
ables them to succeed is of the very
lowest order of human gifts. Put cor-
rectly, it is only grabbing all one can
grab and letting go of as little as pos-
sible. The pig is talented to a high
degree in this same way, and the com-
pliment would be very much the same if
we referred to the self made pig. It is
not meant, however, that all self made
men are piggish and ignorant. Far from
it, for there are among them noble speci-
mens of manhood who lead generous
lives and do the state some service; but
the tendency of a life devoted to the
mere accumulation of wealth is degrad-
ing. The line between business and
robbery has never yet been clearly de-
fined, and it frequently happens that
our successful business man is only a law
abiding highwayman; that is, he keeps
within the law, but practices the art of
the footpad at the same time.

For the reasons referred to, the man
who has devoted a whole lifetime to
accumulation often finds when he has
reached his goal that it is all a hollow
mockery. He has the means but none
of the accomplishments for enjoying his
wealth. He would give half of his for-
tune for one of those little accomplish-
ments which might have been acquired
in youth, but which at that time he did
not value, as the reputation of being a

MICHAEL RYAN, CAPITALIST

185

rich man was more to him than anything
else. Sometimes his health is ruined in
the all absorbing race, but most fre-
quently it is the lack of accomplishment
that wears out his soul. Poverty and
accomplishment are never so bad a team
as ignorance and wealth, which is the
greatest of all human discords. For the
very object of wealth is ease and enjoy-
ment: the luxury of good living, good
company and the presence of all those
higher things which wealth is supposed
to bring to itself. If a man might be
permitted to go ahead and lay up a for-
tune by the time he is fifty and then
acquire education and accomplishments
long enough before he dies to make it
worth while, that would do ; but nature
has not so ordered it, and by the time
one is fifty the mental muscles are set
and hardened and the over taxed brain
refuses to take those impressions which
make for refinement and grace; so that,
ordinarily speaking, your self made man
is not only arrogant but ignorant, and
is either too dull to appreciate his
humilating position, or, appreciating it,
is a disappointed man who concludes
that his life has been a failure, and
often seeks to atone for it by endowing
a college or library. He must be con-
nected in some way with the best things
of life, the essentials to a complete
existence, and so he gives a whole col-
lege because he missed the portal in
his youth. Sometimes he is rewarded
with a title, or even a Latin diploma,
in exchange, for there be mercenary
trustees who care so little for the pro-
ducts of their institutions as to argue
that the end justifies the means, and
are willing to certify to a lie because
it is in Latin and pays off the mortgage.
The firm was composed of self made
men, and consequently they were better
able to cope with the miserable condi-
tions, because they knew and could ap-
preciate the motives which actuated the
men. Being of their own kind, in a
way, enabled these particular employers

to understand these particular employes,
and knowing them as they did they were
able to see how absolutely unfair and
unjust were the demands of the men
at this particular time. There had been
no call for any trouble. It was clearly
the work of the agitator, the walking
delegate, the intruder, and in that view
it became doubly a matter of principle.
To yield would be to surrender abjectly.
It was the worst kind of bad business.
There was no sentiment about it. The
question was to be solved by dollars and
cents, and rather than yield on a busi-
ness principle they had determined to
close the plant indefinitely, although
they would have been willing, for the
sake of the loyal ones, to keep it going
steadily, even at a loss. So it was
settled that one more effort should be
made to bring the men to their senses,
and if that failed all was over, — the
mills would be closed and all hands dis-
charged. Ryan had been selected to
make a final appeal, and now waited
only the fitting opportunity to talk
plainly to them and to give them one
more chance. Certain business facts
were to be put before them with a view
to their comprehending the other side
of the question ; an offer of condonation
to all, so far as the owners were con-
cerned, was to be made, and if they
cared to declare the strike off, all well
and good; otherwise the operators them-
selves would go on a strike.

XXIII
DESTRUCTION

By the blazing torch light of their
consuming property, Michael Ryan made
his way hastily to the scene of disaster
and crime. There was that in his heart
which bade him stay away; which told
him it was a foolish and quixotic enter-
prise he was now engaged in, and which
warned him of impending danger, but
by just that much more was he impelled
to go on. He fully realized that there

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was nothing he could do there and it
would be just as well for him to stay
away and let the half burned build-
ings burn entirely, for that was the
inevitable result; and as for the men,
they would be no better and no worse
for his coming. He knew, also, that he
would get no information as to who had
committed the outrage, and that his
presence would possibly only irritate,
and yet he knew that the men would
be there, that the part of the company's
property which furnished them work was
now under destruction at their own
hands; that henceforth and until the
company chose to rebuild there would
be no possibility of their finding em-
ployment; that he could not prevent"
either result, and yet he must be there.
That was his post of duty, and if he
fell in the performance of that duty, —
well, it was small credit to him, but if
he remained away it would be culpable.

A vague presentiment took possession
of him as he neared the great enclosure.
It was not fear, but rather conviction
that this was to be the last act in his
life's drama, and yet he did not shrink.
The thought of duty was paramount and
all other thoughts were subordinated for
the time being to the one idea of the
necessity of his facing the insurgent
strikers on this last occasion when they
were likely to be together — for he
foresaw that this was the end of their
relations, and even if they were each
and all his bitter enemies (and he knew
they were not all so) he must talk to
them once more before the final parting.

At the main gate he found a large
crowd composed mostly of the employes
of the mills. He spoke quietly and
pleasantly with several, who all ex-
pressed the opinion that the fire had
made such progress that it would be
useless to attempt to save anything, and,
after a stroll through the grounds to
satisfy himself that nothing could be
done, he came back and began an earn-
est conversation with those nearest him.

The crowd closed in, and before he knew
it he was talking to so many that he
found it necessary to mount some tim-
bers that lay piled up near the fence in
order that they might hear him better.

He expressed in most gentle terms
his sorrow that such a disaster had
befallen them, because, without the
buildings and machinery, it would be
impossible for the company to furnish
employment to any of them, even if
the unhappy differences which had
lately separated them could be recon-
ciled. Most of the men seemed docile
enough, and much impressed by what
he said, but some of them showed great
displeasure and a disposition to inter-
rupt him with hoots and cat calls. As
he proceeded this inclination was in-
tensified, until finally one of them
yelled: "It's all the fault of your
damned grasping company!" and others
added, "That's right; you wanted to
starve the men out; and now you've
got your deserts." Then cries of
"Down with monopoly!" "Down with
the corporations!" "Kill the dirty ty-
rants 1" "Kill the aristocrats!"

Through it all Ryan kept his head
cool and showed no fear. One or two
missiles were thrown at him from the
outer edge of the crowd, the ugly
ones began to close in and the mass
became more compact. "He saw Hall
crowding up through the press with pale
face and compressed -lips, and he knew
that his end was near. He did not
falter, but, looking Hall full in the eyes,
he said: "There are those in this crowd
whom I regard as I would my own
brethren, whom my heart goes out to
because they are misguided and will not
give the company credit for any effort
to be friendly and to ameliorate hard
conditions which no human agency can
correct. To such I would say, 'My
brothers, be patient, let us all try to
work together to the end that, —

At this point his overcoat blew aside
and disclosed his evening suit, which he

MICHAEL RYAN, CAPITALIST

187

had not taken the time to change. This
seemed to put the men into a fury, for it
was to them the badge of the capitalist
and the aristocrat, and one called out:
"Go and take off that dress suit if you
want to talk to us." The howls in-
creased, clubs were flourished, the air
was filled with flying missiles and, as he
was about to proceed, Hall, now directly
in front of him, and only a few feet
away, raised his hand and hurled a stone
which struck him full in the forehead.
Under the force of the terrific blow he
sank down unconscious and was borne
away by a number of the more friendly
ones, the rioters in the meantime, realiz-
ing the mischief that had been wrought,
having dispersed.

No one but Hall and his victim knew
who had struck the fatal blow, but Ryan,
from the moment he had caught sight of
Hall, had realized that his death was to
come at the hands of the man whom he
had sought in so many ways to befriend
and benefit, for whom he had prayed
unceasingly and whose friendship he
craved above that of any other man.

Michael Ryan knew that his old time
friend, Charlie Hall, was to be his
murderer, and his only feeling was
of sorrow for the poor fellow's sufferings
and his terrible weakness. He knew
also that remorse would soon bring Hall
to his own death, and then the unknow-
able hereafter. Would they then meet
and know each other, and would poor
Hall then understand and forgive, and
in the great reconciliation would they
be reconciled? It is said that to a
drowning man his whole life is spread
before him clearly and distinctly as upon
a scroll. Even so to Michael Ryan in
those last few moments of his life came
back the life history of his friend and
himself. He saw again how easy it had
been for him and how hard it had been
for Hall, and he forgave him all — even
this last act of insane recklessness. In
his own eyes, with the gloom of the great
mystery spread out before him, he rather

blamed himself than Hall. He might
have been more friendly; he might have
pretended more; he might even have
been false to his own nature and to the
talents that had been given him, for the
sake of saving the other one. He had
not laid down his life for his friend, and
greater love than this hath no man. He
had therefore not fulfilled his mission,
and his success and triumphs were as
naught, and it was the other poor, weak
one, to whom so little had been given,
who must forgive, and with his mind
full of such thoughts and his heart all
compassion, he fell asleep.

XXIV

THE END

While the authorities moved with the
usual deliberation in apprehending those
who were responsible for the crimes of
that terrible night, it became known that
Michael Ryan had by his will made such
provision for Hall and his family as to
place them beyond the fear of want.
His children would be educated to the
point of being able to take care of them-
selves, and he and his wife were to
receive a modest income at the hands
of the trustees of Ryan's will. Remorse
for his wicked deed had already almost
crazed Hall, and when he became aware
of Ryan's generous regard for him he
was heartbroken. He wandered about
day and night and could find neither
peace nor rest, and finally when they
found him one day on Ryan's grave with
a bullet in his heart and his arms over
the inourrd that covered all that was
mortal of Michael Ryan, his friend and
benefactor, they knew that he too at last
understood.

But the great mills remained silent.
That too was a graveyard where were
buried many hopes and the activities of
a great im ustry. Business continued to
grow worse and there was no incentive
to rebuild and reopen, and when a com-
mittee from the union came to inquire

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if the works would be reopened they
were told that the men had settled that
question for themselves in their own
way.

The distress which followed was
harder upon those who owned their
own homes than upon the others, for
they could not so readily move away to
other fields, and there was not a man
among them who did not realize the
poor business proposition they had fol-
lowed.

Even Bill Kitchen was forced to
acknowledge that, as a mere matter of
dollars and cents, the men had failed
miserably, and he took no account of
the suffering and distress entailed upon
the women and children; but he still
maintained that they were right in prin-
ciple, and who was so dastardly as not
to be willing to suffer for principle?

Gradually they dispersed, some going
to other fields, others seeking different
occupations, and the horror of yesterday
became only an unpleasant memory.

Shall we now undertake to sum up,
as a lawyer does to his jury, the result
to all concerned? Unquestionably one
word would express it all — RUIN.

Hopes, ambitions, the efforts of years,
the sacrifices and economies of a life-
time, and all the material things that
enter into the combined efforts of man-
kind to better physical conditions.
There is scarcely an item of this
nature to be mentioned that does not
share in the results of such a wreck.

But is that all? Are there no broken
hearts, no lost faiths, no wrecked pa-
triotisms, no laxed citizenships, no
doubts of human nature, no skepticisms
of the utility of our moral and religious
training?

Strange, is it not, that all such results
find the inception in some idea of prin-
ciple which is as firmly fixed in the
human breast as any other? Mankind

has ever fought for liberty. The history
of the race is of one great, universal
struggle for liberty. When kings op-
pressed and feudal systems robbed there
was no other way, but when governments
are founded upon the consent of the
governed, when free government of the
people, by the people and for the people
exists, have we not yet reached the goal
or is human individual liberty a myth?
Have we reached the point of demon-
stration where it mus't be acknowledged
that our ideal is impossible, or is it
true that the possession of great wealth
or of any wealth by individuals or com-
binations of individuals is in itself culp-
able because of the added power there-
by created and which is unnatural? If
so, what is the remedy? Shall we turn
all accumulations over to the state and
simply live? No man can work that
proposition out on the lines we define
as just and equitable. Shall \ve suppress
the genius of the Michael Ryans to the
common level? We admit that the
career of such as he is a constant in-
spiration to all good impulses. His rise
from poverty to power and opulence is
one of the results of the individual
liberty we all demand, and yet we pro-
pose that he shall not control what he
acquiies. Half of us are Bill Kitchens,
and most of us are half Ryan and half
Kitchen. His liberty interferes with our
liberty. On all placid waters the circles
widen out until they are ever interlacing,
and each is still a perfect circle fulfilling
its life and mission.

But the lives will be lived; the play
will go on, and Michael Ryan will be
born again and will live his life in every
generation, and unceasingly the philoso-
phers will guess.

"The moving finger writes, and having writ
Moves on ; nor all your piety nor wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all your tears wash out a word of it."

PRIMITIVE FARMING IN THE PHILIPPINES

WATER BUFFALO DRAWING THE PLOUGH THROUGH A MARSHY LOWLAND: ONE OF THE SIGHTS
VIEWED BY SECRETARY TAFT's PARTY OF TRAVELERS FROM THE UNITED STATES

THE DOOM OF A PRIMA DONNA

Author of

By Charles Warren Stoddard

Exits and Entrances," "Islands of Tranquil Delight," etc.

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

SHE was a Hungarian, and as a child
in school learned all her lessons in
Latin. This may or may not have been
the natural foundation for the many
languages she mastered later on, but she
was a veritable polyglot and a vastly
entertaining woman.

.Her father was a carver of meerschaum
pipes and an artist in his line, as she be-
came in hers bye and bye. and in order
to help him in his profession and to add
somewhat to the little he was making,
for all his skill and industry, she became
as industrious as he, and learned to
color those pipes after school hours,
giving them with pride to the author of
her being as a burnt offering; and the
price of those autumnally tinted pipes
went up in the Hungarian market, while
her dreams went up in smoke.

It is perhaps a little singular that a
young woman whose voice was destined
to be her fortune— her face never was —
should devote her youth to the artistic
coloring of meerschaum pipes, but that
is what she did; and in so doing she
acquired a habit that never left her to
her dying day. Let me not call it habit;
in her case it was an accomplishment,
and one that she was ever proud of.

In the halcyon days of old Manhattan,
when Castle Garden, ever more castle
than garden, and mighty little of either,
was the pride of the Battery, and the
Battery the pride of all early New York-
ers, there came a foreign opera troupe
to reawaken the echoes in the barn-like
structure and arouse the town to the
highest pitch of enthusiasm.

Jenny Lind had consecrated that hall
to music, with the immortal Barnum as
the great high priest. Not all were

Swedish nightingales who sang there,
but there were singers of world wide
fame who drew to the Battery the Knick-
erbockers and all their following; these,
for the most part, were then dwelling
in mansions not a stone's throw from the
green at the water's edge.

In that company was a singer whose
voice was in its way phenomena]. Na-
ture seemed to have been undecided as
to whether it should be a tenor or a
baritone, and finally compromised on
a contralto of such amazing quality that
the possessor of it could sing in all three
ranges and play male or female roles
with equal ease, though she had a de-
cided preference for the former. As
Maffio Orsini in Donazetti's "Lucrezia
Borgia," she was without a rival, and
her rendering of the famous Brindici
has probably never been equalled since
her day.

She came to California in the early
sixties and sang at the Metropolitan
theater in San Francisco. I remember
well how she stirred the blood of Italy
in the gallery, where the red-shirted
fishermen, packed rib to rib like sar-
dines and reeking with heat and human-
ity, encored the drinking song until
Maffio was compelled to support him-
self by the columns of the proscenium
box and bow his breathless thanks. Not
that the glorious voice had begun to fail
in the least, but as the chorus was lined
up in a semi-circle that embraced the
breadth and depth of the stage, each
singer with a glass poised in hand, and
Maffio, trilling upon a note so low, so
rich, so clear that it seemed to be well-
ing from the heart of a subterranean
fountain, strode leisurely as he clicked
glass to glass from one side of the stage
to the other and had yet a long, melodi-

THE DOOM OF A PR1MA DONNA

191

ous breath to spare — and this repeated
again and again — it was really the legs
that gave out, rather than the lungs.

I remember that theater after it had
been gutted by fire. It was roofless;
only the charred walls remained. The
stage was a blackened mass of ruins,
and from the forlorn skeletons of the
proscenium boxes flocks of pigeons
looked down demurely upon all that
was left of that once brilliant temple
of the muses.

Mme. d'Ormy was in her glory when
she sang Maffio in San Francisco; but
all too soon the curtain descended upon
the last night of the season. The com-
pany dispersed and one heard no more
of them unless a fleeting rumor, telling
of success or failure in other lands, was
blown over the sea to the ultimate fron-
tier town. San Francisco was the jump-
ing off place in those day's. There was
no overland traffic save by prairie
schooner; travelers were all voyagers;
they came to the coast by the Isthmus
and the sea and sailed away from it to
Mexico, South America, Australia and
the Far East. If they were professionals
their company was very apt to disband
and perhaps take separate ships for the
opposite ends of the earth. This is the
fate of the Strolling Player the world
over.

Elsewhere I have written of my old
friend Proteus, proprietor and manager
of the Royal Hawaiian theater in the
Honolulu of other days. In a sketch
called "The Drama in Dreamland," one
of the several that make up the volume
entitled "The Island of Tranquil De-
lights," I have said:

When social dinners ceased to attract,
when the boarding house grew tedious,
and the Chinese restaurant became a
burden, Proteus, who lived in the green
room and a suite of dressing rooms in
the theater, adjourned to the cool base-
ment under the stage, a kind of culinary
laboratory such as amateurs in cookery

delight in, and there he prepared the
daintiest dishes ; he and I often partook
of them in Crusoe-like seclusion. Could
anything be jollier? Sweetmeats and
semi-solitude, and the Kanana with his
sprinkler to turn on a tropical shower at
the shortest possible notice. This youth
was a shining example of the ingenuous-
ness of his race ; he had orders to water
the plants at certain hours daily ; and
one day we found him in the garden
under an umbrella, playing the hose in
opposition to a heavy rain storm. His
fidelity established him permanently in
his master's favor.

Many strange characters found shelter
under that roof : Thespian waifs thrown
upon the mosquito shore, who, perhaps,
rested for a time and then set sail again ;
prodigal circus boys, disabled and use-
less, deserted by their fellows, here
bided their time, basking in the hot sun-
shine, feeding on the locusts and wild
honey of idleness ; they at last, falling in
with some troupe of strolling athletes,
have dashed again into the glittering
ring with new life, a new name, and a
new blaze of spangles ; the sadness of
many a twilight in Honolulu has been
intensified by the melancholy picking of
the banjo in the hands of some dejected
minstrel who was coral stranded, as it
were.

All these conditions touched us simi-
larly. Reclining in the restful silence
of that green room, it was our wont to
philosophize over glasses of lemonade —
nothing stronger than this, for Proteus
was of singularly temperate appetites —
and there I learned much of those whom
I knew not personally, and saw much
of some whom I might elsewhere have
never met.

One day he said to me: "You like
music; come with me and you shall hear
such as is not often heard."
• We passed down the pretty lane upon
which the stage door opened and ap-
proached the sea; almost upon the edge
of it, and within sound of the ripples
that lapped lazily the coral frontage of
the esplanade, we turned into a bakery
and asked for the baker's lady. She was
momentarily expected. We were shown
into an upper room scantily furnished,

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE 'for "NOVEMBER, 1905

and from a frail balcony that looked
unable to support us we watched the
coming of a portly female in a short
frock, whose gait was masculine, and
her tastes likewise, for she was smoking
a large and handsomely colored meer-
schaum; a huge dog, dripping sea water
at every step, walked demurely by her
side. Recognizing Proteus, who stood
somewhat in fear of her — for she was
bulky and boisterous — she hailed him
with a shout of welcome that might have
been heard a block away.

This was none other than Mme. Jo-
sephine d'Ormy, the famous Maffio Or-
sini of "Lucrezia Borgia" when that
good old fashioned opera was in the
repertoire of every company of distinc-
tion.

She climbed somewhat laboriously to
the chamber where we awaited her, laid
aside her pipe, welcomed the slender
and elegant Proteus with an embrace
that raised him a full foot from the
floor, and, learning that I was from San
Francisco, saluted me with emotion. She
could not speak of that city without sob-
bing; it was the scene of some of her
greatest triumphs, and they, alas! were
over.

Placing herself at an instrument — it
looked like an aboriginal melodeon, the
legs of which were so feeble that the
body of it was lashed with hempen cord
to rings screwed into the floor — she
sang, out of a heart that seemed utterly
broken, a song that was like the cry of
a lost soul.

Tears jetted from her eyes and
splashed upon her ample bosom; the
instrument quaked under her vigorous
pumping of the pedals; it was a ques-
tion whether to laugh or to weep — an
hysterical moment — but the case she
speedily settled by burying her face in
her huge apron and trumpeting sonor-
ously; upon which, bursting into an
hilarious ditty, she reiterated with
hoarse "Ha, ha's!" that ended in
shrieks of merriment, "We'll laugh

the blues away!" — and we did,

I saw her afterward on occasions, but
not always within speaking range. She
had her coterie of friends; they were of
the hail-fellow-well-met order, and when
two or three of them had gathered to-
gether their voices were heard in the
land.

The truth is that d'Ormy of other
days no longer existed. She was dead
to the world that had once been at her
feet, and the wonder was that a breath
of life was still left to her after the sea
of troubles that swept over her had cast
her on that shore.

At the close of a brilliant season of
grand opera in San Francisco, Mme.
d'Ormy set sail for Australia in the
hope of repeating her triumphs. She
was sighing for new worlds to conquer.
They always are, those song birds, even
when misfortune has befallen them dur-
ing their last engagement. Then, more
than ever, do they hope for success with
their next venture in a foreign clime.
Luck often changes with the climate;
a new latitude and a new longitude are
sometimes as good as a new deal in
a long and losing game.

From the moment Mme. d'Ormy left
the Californian coast ill winds beset her.
The ship she set sail in sprang a leak
and foundered at sea. All that she had
saved from a fortunate season in a city
that has been justly celebrated for its
love of music and its generous patronage
of the musical and dramatic profession,
her wardrobe, her souvenirs of travel,
the trophies of her triumphs in foreign
capitals, all, all were lost forever: they
went down with the ship from which she
narrowly escaped in one of the small
boats that were set afloat in the hope of
finding succor on the high seas.

It is not necessary to dwell upon the
hardships she endured in company with
the captain and the crew of that ill fated
bark. Enough that in their extremity

THE DOOM OF A PRIMA DONNA

they were picked up out of that wilder-
ness of waters where a sail seldom passes
and there is no land for a thousand miles
on every hand.

The vessel that rescued them put in
at Honolulu, and was no doubt glad to
rid itself of an unwelcome passenger
list.

By this time Mme. d'Ormy, exhausted
through long exposure, her nerves shat-
tered by fear, disappointment and sus-
pense, in a low fever, delirious, friend-
less and penniless, found herself a
stranger in a strange land and knew
not which way to turn.

One day an excellent and kind hearted
German was strolling in the Hawaiian
quarter of the island capital when a
native who knew him halted him with
the surprising announcement that there
was a "haoli," a stranger, within, and a
woman — a white woman at that. He
entered the grass house of the native.
It was one of those enjoyable houses
of the olden days: the shell of a hay
stack with a small door, and an
unglazed porthole for a window; sweet
mats of braided bark upon the floor;
a flat stone in the center of the hut —
there was but one room — a slightly hol-
lowed stone, like a family altar, with
a little fire smouldering upon it.

At the two ends of the oblong room
was a raised couch as broad as the
room itself, covered with many woven
grass mats of exceeding fineness. Here
slept the clan, from sire to son, even to
the second and third generation, with
their wives and sisters and daughters,
their nieces and their aunts, likewise the
stranger within their gates; and there,
her head cushioned upon a "pulu"
pillow, her body covered with sheets of
"topa," the painted bark cloth of
Hawaii, and by her side a crouching
maiden, who with a whisk of horse hair
was beating off the aggressive flies, lay
Mme. d'Ormy.

The German heart is fraught with
sentiment and deeply touched on occa-

sions. The man who had thus unex-
pectedly stumbled upon one who spoke
his language with fluency — she had the
gift of tongues — and this one a woman
in distress, soon learned her story and
at once resolved upon her rescue. In
her delirium she had wandered she
knew not where; fortunately she fell
into the hands of natives, who, though
almost as poor as she, naturally be-
friended her. They were never yet
known to turn the hungry from their
door so long as they had one taro root
to share; their roof was a shelter for all
who sought it; and they have parted
their garments, few as they were, that
the naked might be clothed. Mme.
d'Ormy was at once removed to the
house of the good Samaritan, albeit he
was a bachelor, and made welcome
there, and he, being by profession a
baker, — they broke bread together, and
all was well.

In the course of time, life, which she
had twice come very near losing by flood
and field, began to assert its charm. It
was not enough that she had a good
man to provide for her; that she had
enough to eat and drink and could
smoke her pipe in peace, without
thought of the morrow.

There was no field for her talent in
Honolulu. To enter the select foreign
circle of the capital of the kingdom it
were better to have taken holy orders
and to be the bearer of a certificate from
the board of health certifying to the
spotless nature of one's private life. A
woman with the shadow of a suspicion
concerning a possible past was as scarlet
in the eyes of the self appointed Elect.
Not that the missionary element, then
much in vogue, was held blameless, even
by the members of their own exclusive
set. Its secret history is yet to be writ-
ten, and when it is published this new
book of revelations will appal the gentle
reader — though it will scarcely astonish
the natives.

Mme. d'Ormy had tasted of the joy

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

of living. Her heart was pricked with
the pride of life. What was the sob of
the sea, the lisp of the wind in the
feathery algarobas, the clash of palm
boughs and all the perfume and the
color that go toward the making of a
tropic Eden, compared with the pealing
thunders of intoxicating applause upon
which she had fed from her youth up?

Her husband was a baker, and a good
and successful one; but man cannot live
by bread alone — even if it is home made,
and husband made — nor woman either.
I could see whenever I called upon the
prima donna contralto in her retirement
that she was losing interest in her sur-
roundings. She began to rehearse some
of her famous arias, and it may be said
that she electrified the Hawaiians, who
are great lovers of music, to say nothing
of the foreigners, who were glad enough
to listen so long as there was no collec-
tion taken up before the end of the song
service. She would talk always of San
Francisco and of the opera season there.
If by chance the baker were present, she
seemed inspired as she pictured the
splendor of her former triumphs. Some-
times his contented eyes brightened
while he listened, and perhaps sparkled
a little as she strove to arouse him with
leviathan coquetry — she was a woman of
masculine mold and unusual bulk.

I could see that the leaven was begin-
ning to work, and that anon she would
have leavened the whole loaf. And
then—?

I had said goodbye to my emotional
friend, who wept copiously the real tears
that lie very near the eyelids of so many
members of the profession. I had won-
dered what the future held in store for
that strong winged, full voiced bird of
song. I was thinking of her and of her
baker and of Proteus in his unique
theater under the palms in a sunny isle
as I sat between the acts in the very last
seat in Maguire's Opera House, of early
San Francisco fame. Someone heavily

veiled, a woman with her escort, entered
and seated herself directly in front of
me. I thought I recognized his face;
I made a guess at hers, though the veil
which she would not raise, blurred her
features. It was evident that she de-
sired to remain unrecognized, but I was
younger then and more impulsive, — I
had even been called ingenuous by those
who knew me well — and, leaning for-
ward, I whispered in her ear:

"Are you not Mme. d'Ormy?"

She would have fluttered where she
sat, had she been less massive. She
turned from me with a visible show of
emotion. My youthful fidelity was on
its mettle, and I persisted in self de-
fence, being too much of a coward to
retreat:

"Surely, you are Mme. d'Ormy!"

She turned and, swaying toward me,
said:

"Yes! But for God's sake don't let
it be known that I am here!"

I swore myself to secrecy on the in-
stant. She seized my hand and crushed
it. Her baker beamed benignly. In-
deed, he seemed to be in the seventh
heaven of anticipation, while she was as
one playing a role of mystery. She
added:

"I will see you after the play. Do
not let anyone know that I am in Cali-
fornia."

It seems that she had persuaded her
goodman — never had there been a better
one to her — that they were wasting
golden opportunities by literally mak-
ing their bread in the sweat of their
brows; that what they had to do was
to convert their little all into hard cash,
go to San Francisco, take passage for
South America, there open a season of
grand opera, and their fortune was as-
sured. After much persuasion, the baker
let his ovens cool, and with what ready
money he could secure, at no little sacri-
fice, the two set sail for California.
They had but just arrived when I met
them— it was their first evening on shore

THE DOOM OF A PRIMA DONNA

— and having given my address to Mme.
d'Ormy, we parted full of cheer.

A few days later a carriage drew up
at my door. In it was Mme. d'Ormy
robed in a stiff brocade, her head and
shoulders swathed in a black mantilla
that at once suggested the famed beau-
ties of the land to which she was appar-
ently hastening. Her air was as grand
as the opera to which she had been
bred, and something stagey in her man-
ner made me recall with regret the
whole souled, warm hearted woman I
had met when she was just recovering
from her sufferings in Hawaii. She had
called informally to make the acquain-
tance of my family and to invite us to
call upon her any afternoon at her apart-
ment in a rather unfashionable quarter
of the town.

I went. Wild horses could not have
kept me away. I said to myself, "She
will sing for me. I shall hear again that
glorious voice; and perhaps we can go
together to one of the cosy restaurants
in the Spanish or Italian quarter and
have a delightful little bohemian dinner
with chianti!"

There was a sound of revelry in the
modest house in which she had taken
up her abode. It was a two storey frame
house, with a narrow veranda abutting
upon the planked sidewalk. French
windows were wide open to the world;
dingy lace curtains were bellying in the
gusts of the breezy afternoon. The front
door stood ajar, and th^re in the narrow
and dusty hall, at the foot of the stair-
way that sprang at a single bound into
the storey above, stood the baker in
broadcloth and beaming a welcome that
was both boisterous and beery. Recog-
nizing me, he ushered me precipitously
into the center of the front parlor that
was well filled with all sorts and condi-
tions of men, none of whom I had ever
seen before. There were no women
present save only Mme. d'Ormy herself.
She embraced me as was her wont, and,
without any word of introduction, thrust

me through the folding doors into the
back parlor, which was also well filled
with men, and in the center of the room
an extension table spread and positively
groaning under its weight of viands and
spirits of many sorts.

I was bidden, "Eat, drink and be
merry!" but I could not do the last.
The astonishing congregation of human
oddities, gathered from the highways
and byways as to the marriage feast of
the parable; the " universal hubbub
wild" — there were children hanging
over the balcony of the front veranda
in wonderment — all filled me with con-
fusion bordering upon vertigo. In a
kind of dire desperation, I resolved to
make my escape, and finally succeeded,
for there was such drinking of healths
and discussion of cold turkey, salads
and pates, that no one noticed me when
I stole down the street wrapped in the
solitude of my deep dismay.

Realizing that the Maffio Orsini of
glorious memory could make his way in
the world without my sympathy or en-
couragement, I did not again visit Mme.
d'Ormy until some time later, when I
received a note from her. She wrote
from a new address, a part of the town
I was quite unfamiliar with; she said
she had been ill; wished much to hear
from me; and would I be so kind as to
lend her a few dollars? — five would be
enough for the present. Without delay,
I sought her at her latest address. A
front door opened directly into the
smallest imaginable reception room,
where an upright piano was as con-
spicuous as the high altar within a
chancel. She answered the door in per-
son and in dishabille, for she was evi-
dently not expecting guests. It was
quite like old times in the island king-
dom: her bluff, hearty welcome, the
bedraggled frock and the utter absence
of everything operatic.

She begged me to be seated while she
finished her repast — a repast that was
redolent of garlic and sourkraut.

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

Through the open door we carried on
a fragmentary conversation in which
neither of us was at all interested.
Presently she joined me with her pipe
and began to grow communicative.

It seemed that the baker was no
longer her "angel." He had, at her
earnest desire, spent his substance in
riotous living. She had beguiled him
with visions of wealth that was to flow
in a perpetual stream through the box
office of a South American opera house.
They were to set sail for that shining
shore as soon as she could gather to-
gether her troupe of artists, and the
motley crowd I had met at her banquet
hall was composed chiefly of candidates
for her favor.

All would have gone well enough had
the baker been a millionaire, but un-
fortunately his little all was soon ex-
hausted, and seeing ruin as his portion
and with no resources save his trade,
he one day took ship, and, without a
word of farewell, worked his passage
back to Honolulu, where he began life
all over again with a dearly bought ex-
perience to teach him how to live the
simple life henceforth and forever.

Being a woman of the world and a
philosopher, she announced herself on
a placard in the window as teacher of
vocal and instrumental music; she was
also ready to prepare pupils for the
operatic stage. I saw her no more after
that; I heard of her at intervals as still
teaching her art in one provincial town
or another. I know that some of her
pupils afterward made successful careers
and owed their success to her admirable
instruction — but she was never the
gainer thereby. She plodded on until
I lost all track of her and began to
believe that she must have died in ob-
scurity.

One day I heard a rumor that Mme.
d'Ormy was appearing nightly on the
boards of a music hall of a questionable
character, and with a friend, whose sym-
pathy had been awakened by the story

of her -misfortune, I visited the place.
Her name was not on the program, nor
did she appear under an assumed name
during the entertainment, which was
prolonged until after midnight. It was
an unspeakable resort upon the borders
of the slums of San Francisco; it was
crowded with besotted outcasts; the air
was reeking with the fetid fumes of bad
whiskey and worse tobacco; but we in-
quired of one and another, the attaches
of that licensed brothel, and learned
that she had sung there; her name in
large letters, done with a brush and
shoe blacking, adorned the bill boards
at the door; but before her first week
was up she had disappeared and nothing
more had been seen or heard of her.
The search was hopeless, and here we
abandoned it.

I had left California and been absent
some time, but like all old Californians,
I read the home papers diligently when-
ever they came within my reach. The
least important local item was of some
interest in my eyes, and I think nothing
ever escaped them. Judge, then, of my
emotion when I read of a murder in the
hotbed of the "Barbary Coast" — the
outer-darkness of darkest San Francisco;
a murder that for devilish brutality
threw the case of Bill and Nancy Sykes
into the shade. A woman who, through
adverse circumstances, had been reduced
to the last extremity, was playing the
piano in an underground dance hall and
supporting as best she could a monster
who speedily dissipated her ill gotten
gains. As those who lived within hear-
ing of the tenement where these two
outcasts found temporary shelter were
often awakened by the piercing shrieks
of the woman, her sobs and pitiful plead-
ings for mercy, while his blows were
repeated with sickening persistency until
all was at last silence — for he had
beaten his drudge into insensibility —
it is natural to suppose that no one
presumed to interfere with their domes-

THE DOOM OF A PRIMA DONNA

197

tic affairs, no matter of how strenuous
a nature. In such a case discretion is
indeed the better part of valor.

So it happened that not until peace
had reigned for the space of two or
three days was the interest of the quar-
ter thoroughly aroused. Then it was
that the horrible discovery was made
and all the disgusting details elaborated
in the morning press.

Dead in that blood smeared den,
bruised and bloated beyond all human
semblance, her murderous paramour free
and far from the scene of slaughter, lay
the body of Mme. Josephine d'Ormy,
the woman whose marvelous voice had
once charmed the ears and thrilled
the hearts of enraptured audiences
in many far distant quarters of the
globe.

MY GREAT-GREAT GRANDSIRE

By Ernest McGaffey

Author of "Sonnets to a Wife," "Poems," etc.

LEWISTON, ILLINOIS

MY great-great grandsire tilled the soil
And felled tall pines on slope and hill,
His homespun garments but the foil
That swathed a man of iron will.

And yet when Winter's race was run
And came the Springtimes's first caress

His nature warmed before the sun
And melted into tenderness.

He knew the fields, he knew the woods,
For nature was his guiding star;

And sermons found in solitudes
Where only nature's teachings are.

He marked the gentian of the brooks
And paused where honeysuckles hung,

And rested where in wildest nooks
The lone arbutus trailing clung,

And towered up the bristling head
Of some Colossus of the pines,

Like a great stag with antlers spread
The monarch of a thousand tines.

And with his rod or flintlock gun

He whipped the pools or led the chase,

Tracked the black bear till set of sun,
And slew him in his hiding place.

And thus he lived an outdoor life,
With sight of flower, bird and bee,

With yoke of oxen, and a wife

With children playing at her knee.

And who shall boast a bygone line
And who shall read his pedigree?

'Tis soul that makes the man divine,
Else lower than a beast were he.

A murrain on your coats of arms!

He did his best, as mortal can;
Wrung a rough living from the farms

And lived and died an honest man.

MILLIONS OF NEW ACRES FOR
AMERICAN FARMERS

By Hamilton Wright

Secretary California Promotion Committee

( NOTE — Mr. Wright accompanied the United States senate and house committees on
irrigation during a large portion of their recent western trip.)

Photos by courtesy of the Southern Pacific Company

MILLIONS of acres of arid land in
the West will be thrown open to
the farmer through irrigation, and the
huge projects which the government has
on hand under the national reclamation
act will, it is claimed by the most en-
thusiastic irrigation experts, open the
way for the mightiest Anglo-Saxon civili-
zation the world has ever known.

The work which the government is
executing in constructing great storage
and diversion dams and in building
canals, laterals and headgates is the
largest undertaking of the kind in the
history of the United States. The indi-
vidual projects, which will form almost
a chain of irrigated areas in the West,
are so vast in scope and their execution
is so expensive as absolutely to pro-
hibit their undertaking by private capi-
tal. The permanent character of the
work undertaken under the reclamation
act was shown in opening the Truckee-
Carson project near Reno, Nevada, on
June 17 last. The huge headgates on
the Truckee-Carson canal are of con-
crete, all of one piece, and with ordi-
nary care should last for centuries, defy-
ing storms and floods and keeping the
water under absolute control at all
times. Their finished and substantial
appearance offers a striking contrast to
the points at which water is diverted
from the Colorado river to the Imperial
country in the southern part of Cali-
fornia. With such headgates the water
could not have escaped through the irri-
gated country at Imperial into the Sal-
ton Sink as it has done, creating an in-
land sea thirty miles long and five miles

wide. The works on the Truckee-Car-
son project testify to the fact that the
government with its expert engineers
and ample funds, is able to come to the
aid of the West with projects of lasting
character, and, while encouraging and
desiring irrigation work by private capi-
tal, has the ability to undertake the
greater works with a completeness and
permanency beyond the reach of indi-
vidual funds.

It was the good fortune of the writer
to accompany for several thousand miles
the national house and senate commit-
tees on irrigation on their recent trip
through the West. The journey was
made for the immediate purpose of visit-
ing locations where irrigation works,
have been begun or are planned under
the national reclamation act, and inci-
dentally of gathering information rela-
tive to irrigation in general. The mem-
bers put in a strenuous time and paid
their own expenses.

Under the reclamation act the gov-
ernment will construct the largest irriga-
tion works in history, far excelling those
of Egypt and India. The reclamation
act provides that funds from the sale of
certain public lands shall be applied by
the government to the building of irriga-
tion works. At the present time the
fund amounts to about $28,000,000 and
is increasing at the rate of $4,000,000
annually. This fund is self continuing.
After the irrigation works have been
constructed the sum expended in any
one work is to be returned to the gov-
ernment in ten equal annual installments
by the settlers pro rata. At the end of

MILLIONS OF NEW ACRES FOR AMERICAN FARMERS 199

the first year, after any one project has
been completed, one-tenth of the origi-
nal amount expended on that work is to
be returned and put into other projects.
Among these great works undertaken
by the government is the Shoshone pro-
ject an Wyoming, which will irrigate
160,000 acres of public land; the Un-
compahgre Valley project in Colorado,
100,000 acres; the Belle Fourche pro-
ject in. South Dakota, 85,000 acres; the
Salt river project in Arizona, 200,000
acres; the Malheur project in Oregon,
90,000 acres; the Hondo river project
in New Mexico, 10,000 acres; the Fort
Buford project in Montana and North
Dakota, 60,000 acres; the North Platte
project in Wyoming and Nebraska, 300,-
ooo acres; the Minidoka project in
Idaho, 130,000 acres; the Yuma project

in Arizona and California, 1 1 5 ,000 acres ;
the Truckee-Carson project in Nevada,
350,000 acres; the Klamath project in
Oregon and California, 500,000 acres,
and the Sacramento Valley projects in
California, 2,000,000 acres. Beside the
projects enumerated, which total no less
than 3,600,000 acres, the engineers of
the reclamation service are preparing
surveys on a great many other projects
which will be undertaken as rapidly as
the fund expands and is returned to
begin the work.

Fifty million acres of arid land, it is
estimated, at present totally unfit for
agriculture, will be opened to the settler
through the huge irrigation works which
the government will construct under the
national reclamation act; still more land,
incapable of intensive cultivation, will

A SCENE AT ROOSEVELT, ARIZONA, WHERE THE GOVERNMENT IS BUILDING THE

GREATEST DAM IN THE WORLD, UNDER THE NATIONAL RECLAMATION ACT. —

THE PICTURE SHOWS THE CROWD THAT GATHERED TO MEET THE

NATIONAL SENATE AND HOUSE COMMITTEES ON IRRIGATION

DURING THEIR RECENT WESTERN TRIP

< 55

« X

2- O

w g

W H
Q 5

(2OO)

MILLIONS OF NEW ACRES FOR AMERICAN FARMERS 201

be rendered highly productive through
irrigation. In total extent the land to
be reclaimed represents about two-fifths
of the total area of the United States,
including states and territories.

The actual undertakings in progress
in reclaiming the arid West under
federal supervision include expendi-
tures in California of $3,000,000; in
Arizona, $3,000,000; in Colorado, $2,-
500,000; in Wyoming, $250,000; in
Nebraska-Wyoming, $1,000,000; in Ne-
vada, $3,000,000; in Oregon, $2, 000,000;
in Washington, $1,500,000; in Montana,
$1,500,000; in Idaho, $1,300,000; in
North Dakota, $1,200,000; in Utah,
$1,000,000. This total is being con-
stantly increased by approvals of other
projects by federal engineers.

The opening of the Truckee-Carson
project in Nevada was celebrated just
three years from the passage of the
reclamation act, on June 17, 1902. It
was the first great step in rebuilding
Nevada. At 10:15 o'clock in the morn-
ing Mrs. Francis G. Newlands, wife of
Senator Newlands of Nevada, who is
the "father of the reclamation act,"
broke a bottle of champagne over the
headgates. The members of the con-
gressional committees, including five of
the seventeen men who drafted the
reclamation act; the governor of Ne-
vada, the governor of California, with
a distinguished body of citizens and
legislators, turned the cranks, the head-
gates lifted and the cool waters of the
high Sierra rushed through the canal to
the thirsty desert.

It was more than a step in the up-
building of Nevada; it was a move to-
ward the reclamation of the arid West.
It was the consummation of the dream
of years, and of the men who have
worked long and faithfully. I saw one
old gentleman wiping the tears from his
eyes. "I was thinking of some of the
fellows now dead and gone who used to
hope for this," he said apologetically.
For fifty years he had lived in Nevada,

and at the beginning of that period he
had talked with his associates of the
possibilities of the very problem which
has just been worked out.

By the Truckee-Carson project water
is taken from the Truckee river at a
point ten miles above Wadsworth, Ne-
vada, to the channel of the Carson river
by a canal thirty-one miles long. In the
Truckee river there is plenty of water,
though there is but little agricultural
land in the Truckee valley. In the Car-
son valley there is an abundance of agri-
cultural land. In fact almost all through
the arid West there is more good land
than there is water. Fifty thousand
acres of land were irrigated in the Car-
son valley this year by means of about
200 miles of canals and ditches. Already
the cabins of the pioneers are seen in
the valley, for the object of the reclama-
tion act is to provide for . the home
seeker. The land is divided into farm
units of eighty acres, and settlers must
be bona fide. The secretary of the in-
terior has set aside $2,740,000 for the
Truckee-Carson project. By the time
this has been expended 100,000 acres
will be under irrigation. The money
received from the irrigators will be used
as a revolving fund for the completion
of the project. As far as the govern-
ment is concerned, the Truckee-Carson
project is fairly inaugurated. The land
is ready for the settlers and the settlers
are coming rapidly to the land.

That this vast, bleak desert will be
completely transformed through irriga-
tion is assured by the fact that whenever
water has been brought to the land in
the Carson valley by the individuals who
own small farms scattered along the little
Carson river,cropsgrow with great luxur-
iance. Alfalfa grows rapidly, and the
stock feeding upon it look sleek and are
in prime condition. There is not much
fruit cultivated. Indeed it is grown
almost wholly for home use; but the
deciduous fruits do well.

The Yuma project on the Colorado

H W

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MILLIONS OF NEW ACRES FOR AMERICAN FARMERS 203

river is of especial interest at this time,
because it is located close to the Im-
perial valley region on the Colorado
desert, where is located the largest irri-
gation works, either public or private,
in the United States. Within four years
100,000 acres have been put under actual
irrigation in the Imperial valley through
the diversion of waters from the Colorado
river. Of this 100,000 acres almost half
is in barley; 10,000 acres is in alfalfa.
On the American side of the Imperial
valley there are some 50,000 head of
cattle, a large part of which is dairy
stock, and there are 10,000 head more
on the Mexican side. Next to Los
Angeles and San Pedro the town of
Imperial is the most important shipping
point in the southern part of California.
Actual work at Imperial was not begun
until 1900, when a ditch eight miles
long and seventy-five feet wide was con-
structed to connect with the Alamo river
bed. Canals were diverted from the
river channel and took the water through
the valley. At the time construction
was first begun there was not a single
dwelling in the Imperial valley. The
ground was parched and avoided by
travelers. Today there are eleven
school districts in the region. Imperial
is the principal town, other towns being
Brovvley, Haltville and Calexico. Im-
perial has a $5,000 school house, and
the census of 1905 shows 701 children,
an increase of 370 over 1904. Two
church buildings have been erected at
Imperial and a telephone system con-
nects all the towns of the valley.

The valley produces alfalfa, barley,
Egyptian corn, sorghum; sugar beets
and other field crops do well; melons,
sweet grapes and canteloupes are culti-
vated with success. The government is
experimenting with date palms; thirty-
six varieties of commercial dates have
already been planted at Yuma, above
Imperial, which has about the same cli-
mate.

The water for irrigation at Imperial

has been furnished by various com-
panies which, though brave pioneers in
practical irrigation work, have been un-
able to make the necessary improve-
ments and extensions. It has not been
possible for them to get the necessary
capital owing to questions as to water
rights arising since the passage of the
national reclamation act. Now, how-
ever, the Southern Pacific Company,
which makes great shipments from the
region, has come into the field with
greater capital.

The Yuma project contemplates the
irrigation of land on both sides of the
Colorado river in California and Ari-
zona. The government has planned for
the ultimate extension of the canals of
the Yuma project twenty miles or more
from the Laguna dam, ten miles above
Yuma, to the Imperial valley. When
this is done the most arid portion of
America, not excepting Death valley,
will be all under irrigation and highly
productive.

The largest and most comprehensive
irrigation project which the government
has under consideration is the reclama-
tion of 2/000,000 acres of land in the
Sacramento valley of California. Water
will be conserved by means of seven
huge reservoirs and distributed over the
valley, which is 250 miles long and from
twenty to sixty miles in breadth. Here
the problems of irrigation, reclamation,
navigation and drainage are all closely
connected, for with the storage of waters
the crests of the Spring floods, which
have often broken the levees on the
lower reaches of the Sacramento river
and destroyed millions of dollars worth
of property, will be controlled. The
climatic conditions in the Sacramento
valley are far less extreme than those
in the desert regions.

Although the government contem-
plates irrigation works for the benefit of
home seekers and endeavors so far as
possible to undertake works with the
view of bringing water to available gov-

204

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

ernment lands, yet in the event that in-
dividuals are willing to subdivide their
lands and to sign a contract which will
prevent land speculation and the antici-
pation of increased values through irri-
gation, irrigation works will be under-
taken under the reclamation act where
the land is in private ownership. This
is the case in the Salt river valley, Ari-
zona, where a dam capable of impound-
ing enough water to irrigate 200,000

acres of land will be constructed. The
settlers in that section have gone ahead
and accomplished marvels; the govern-
ment is coming to their aid. In the
Sacramento valley the land is mainly
in large holdings, there being individual
ranches of 100,000 acres in extent. The
California Promotion Committee has
heard from seventy of the big land
owners that they will subdivide their
holdings, as required under the act.

By Roscoe Brumbaugh

THE east wind conies with softest touch
And whispers to him of the sea;
The great, wide sea he loved so much,

And sang so of to you and me.
It seems the very birds must know
The way to find his place of rest;
The thrush keeps chanting, soft and

low,
Its evening hymn, and in the west

The clouds are breaking for the light
To deck his tomb in brightest gold ;

And lo! in every sound and sight
Some messages to him are told.

I watch the velvet night come on,

The long, dark shadows drawing near,

And when the little wind moans "Gone,"
Again the wood thrush answers
"Here!"

MRS. BROWNE AT THE DOCTOR'S

A MONOLOGUE

By Emma C. Dowd

MERIDEN, CONNECTICUT

Scene: Doctor Alford? s consulting room.
Enter Mrs. 'Browne in elaborate carriage gown.

« l-lOW fortunate that I caught you!
• • I should have been so disap-
pointed! And you had really started for
church! Why, I didn't know that you
doctors ever went to church! You sel-
dom have the chance? Ah, Doctor
Alford," (laughing) "that's a good
excuse!" (Takes the offered chair.)
"But I didn't go myself this morning.
I wasn't equal to it. I thought I should
attend vespers, but I finally decided
it was my more imperative duty to see
you, for I knew that my engagements
tomorrow wouldn't give me a spare mo-
ment. I am so glad I got here in time.

"What is the trouble? Oh," (sighing)
"I'm just going to pieces! ... I look
well?" (Laughs a little.) "I'm afraid,
doctor, that you are flattering. Perhaps
my drive has given me a little color.
I've been pale enough all day. This
morning I was as white as a sheet.

"No, I don't sleep well at all. Some-
times I don't close my eyes till three or
four in the morning.

"Oh, I usually get to bed by twelve,
unless we are out or are entertaining,
and we have been regular old fogies
lately — actually, Doctor Alford, we
didn't go out but three evenings last
week! Mr. Browne would like to
settle down in good earnest. I do be-
lieve he would! . . Go to bed by ten?
Why, doctor, I couldn't sleep a wink!
I should toss and tumble till I should
go crazy — I know I should! No, it isn't
late hours that's the matter; it is nerves!
I need some quieting medicine. My
head aches about all the time. . . (Ex-
tends her arm for the physician to time
her pulse.)

"Yes, I presume it is quick. My
heart has been at all sorts of tantrums
lately. One night I thought I should go
before morning! The way my heart
acted was something awful — just as fast
for a minute or two, and then it would
stop! I woke Mr. Browne and in-
sisted on his telephoning for you; but
finally Aunt Emily gave me some tablets
that relieved me after a little. . . Soda
and something, I think they were. . .
No, it wasn't gas! I believe my heart
is affected.

"Oh, what are you going to do? . . .
Examine my heart? If you tell me I
have heart disease I shall drop dead —
I know I shall! . . No, I don't think it
is better to find out. I don't want to
know. I'd rather give myself the benefit
of the doubt. . . Yes, this is a coat."
(Unfastens the wrap.) "My heart is
going fast enough now! You'll think
there's something the matter with it
sure!. . . That isn't the way you tell?
You know by the sound? Well, if there
is any trouble — and I know there is! —
don't tell me right off, unless you want
to kill me on the spot. I shan't take
a bit of medicine for it, anyway. I've
known two or three people who have
begun to doctor for heart disease, and
they died in a few days. It is always
soi . . . You suppose it was occasion-
ally the disease that killed the patient?
Why, of course — that's what I said!
And I shan't touch a drop of medicine!
"Oh, dear, you're hurting my side
with that stethoscope! Please, doctor,
don't press so hard! Oh, I know my
heart's diseased! . . . There isn't any
organic trouble? You're sure? Why,

206

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

there must be! You couldn't tell
through all my clothes. My heart
wouldn't act so, if it were all right.
You can't make me believe there's
nothing wrong.

"Indigestion? Pshaw! my stomach's
all right! That never went back on me
yet. It doesn't give -me a bit of trouble.
Feel it somewhere else? I should think
if it were my stomach I'd feel it there,
if anywhere. . . Not in the first stom-
ach? How many have. I, pray? — a
dozen?" (laughing.) "Well, I know it
isn't what I eat. Besides, I'm very
careful. . . Oh, my tongue's all right!"
(Displays the member, in response to
the physician's request.) "It is yellow?
I don't see why. I never over eat. In
fact, my appetite has always been deli-
cate.

"Oh, while I think of it, doctor, —
I've had a dreadful pain in my side
lately. It is excruciating! , . . No, it
doesn't last long at a time. It comes
and goes. I've been worrying for fear
it meant cancer. You don't suppose it
is; do you? . . . Gas? Oh, no; it can't
be gas! You're sure it isn't cancer? . .
Well, that is a relief, if you can really
tell. I don't see how you know.

"The other day I thought I was in for
a siege of inflammatory rheumatism. I
had such a horrible pain in my big toe!
It was something fearful. When it
stopped there, it went into my arm.
I thought I should go wild! And then
my hand prickled, just as if it were
asleep. It was the queerest thing! I
was afraid I was going to have paralysis.
The hands do prickle, I've heard, when
paralysis is coming on. . . You are cer-
tain it isn't paralysis? . . No, I haven't
had it since that time; but it was some-
thing frightful while it lasted.

"Oh, I want to ask you about little
Helen. She doesn't seem like herself.
She has a very delicate organization,
just as I have, and the changes in the
weather may have something to do with
it. . . Has she attended any children's

parties? Why, y-e-es, she went to one
Friday afternoon ; but she was not at
all tired. . . Ye-e-es, she had consider-
able nausea one night — I don't know
but it was Friday night. It is possible
it was the ice cream — often it isn't
properly made, and I think she ate a
good deal of it. I believe she and a
little boy tried to see which could eat
the most — wasn't that just like kids!
They do the most unaccountable things.

"There's Irvy — last week he scraped
the skin all off his hands shinning up
and down the piazza, posts! What is the
best thing, doctor, for barks of that kind?
... I did what I could for him, poor
little fellow!— but I said then I'd find
out next time I saw you just what to
do, so I'd be prepared for another such
muss.

"And that makes me think — Baby has
been having a kind of rash on his face,
and his mouth is sore, and he doesn't
seem to relish his food. . '. Oh, no, I
never give him much of anything sweet,
— nothing but gingerbread and cookies.
Those are plain, you know. . . . Oh,
never any candy, except molasses! He
is very fond of lumps of sugar, and I
let him have all he wants — pure sugar is
so harmless. . . You think he has eaten
too much? Well, nurse is careless about
the children's food, and of course I
can't always be on hand to see to it.
Oh, dear," (sighing) "it is impossible
to get reliable help! . . . Not give the
child any sugar? Why, he would cry
his eyes out! It is the only thing that
will quiet him when he has his tantrums.
Well, I don't see how I'm going to man-
age it.

"But that reminds me, Aunt Emily
said that, seeing I was coming round
here, she wished I'd ask you what she
should do for her cough — it disturbs us
very much early in the morning, just
when we want to sleep. I dare say she
might choke it down more than she
does. I think she's getting nervous
over it. She is dreadfully fidgetty if

MRS. BROWNE AT THE DOCTOR'S

207

she has the least pain or ache. I tell
her I don't know what would become
of me if I exaggerated every little ail-
ment as she does. . . Oh, ye-es, I sup-
pose coughs are sometimes serious.
Well, do give her something to cure
it right away! I couldn't have anything
happen to Aunt Emily — she takes so
much care of the children. If they
happen to be sick in the night, when
we are out, she is always there to see
to them.

"Dear me, what a lot of medicine
you're putting upl I ought to be well
after taking all that." . . Oh, this is for
auntie! And this for Baby? And this
package for Helen?

"Keep Helen away from parties?
What an absurd idea! Why, there
wouldn't be any living with her! She
delights in parties — and new frocks!
She did look too cute as a butterfly,
at that dance up' at the Van Gragan's,
last week. . . No, not the one on Fri-
day. This was earlier. I've forgotten
what night it was, but it was very swell
for a child's affair. . .

"Well, I'll try to persuade her to stay
at home for a week or so, but I expect
I'll have a time. . . Yes, I'll do my
best to follow these directions, and if
Baby isn't any better, I'll telephone

for you to come down to the house.

"Thank you. I would stop for a little
visit with Mrs. Alford, only I am so
used up, I feel as if I must go straight
home. Give her my love, and tell her
that I am so sorry not to see her. Good
night." (Turns to go, then pauses.)

"Oh, I forgot to speak to you about
a strange feeling I've had lately, just as
if I must breathe deeper down to hit
a certain spot in my stomach — it's some-
thing horrible! . . . You don't think it
is any lung trouble, then? I didn't know
but it was pneumonia coming on. Are
you sure it isn't pneumonia?

"Oh, and I have a great deal of pain
across the back of my neck! That has
worried me, there is so much spinal
meninigtis about. I wouldn't have spinal
meningitis for anything! . . Well, if
you know it isn't that, but I'm almost
afraid it may be after all. . . . You
think this medicine will help it? In-
deed, I hope so. But I shouldn't
wonder if you'd see me sick abed
before many days — my nerves are in
such a state! Oh, you've no idea
anything about it! It is only sheer
will power that has kept me up thus
far. . . Well, good night. I hope you
are a true prophet and that I shall
be better. Good night, doctor."

A MOOD OF LOVE

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

CLOSE to each other, yet a world apart
We walked one night across the fragrant

field —

Silent. Our unresponsive lips were sealed;
Our eyes askance shot not a questioning

dart ;

No happy flowers of confidence dared start ;
No secret intuition was revealed ;
No inner voice of sympathy appealed
Across the widening space from heart to
heart.

Strange ! such dark mood upon our spirits

fell!
The breath of sweet young blossoms cast

their spell : —
The stars were glittering in their mazy

flight
The breath of sweet young blossoms cast

their spell : —

It was an hour for Love and Love's delight
And yet how sad ! As if a last Farewell
Were parting us forever on that night !

BACK TO THE FARM -• By Ernest McGaffey

ERNEST MCGAFFEY, THE DISTINGUISHED WEST-
ERN POET AND STORY TELLER, SNAPSHOTTED
AS "THE MAN WITH THE HOE" ON HIS
FARM NEAR LEWJSTOWN, ILLINOIS

THE solution of industrial troubles
which have so disturbed the nation
for many years will eventually be found
in agriculture. While farming cannot
be said to be fashionable nowadays, it is
a pursuit, nevertheless, which has thou-
sands of devoted adherents, and can cer-
tainly claim to have attained more than
the dignity of a "fad." The backbone
of America, as was demonstrated in our
wars, is the farming interest. Even in
that lowest of all calculations, the dollar,
the farm is supreme. In the last analy-
sis, the so-called "jay," the "Reuben,"
the horny handed man of the fields, is
the most independent personage in the
United States today, as a class; and
while it is true that he works hard, he
does not work nearly so hard as the
average laborer in the large cities, and
is his own "boss" in a more complete

sense than any man in any other trade
or profession.

The hunger for land has not entirely
died out in mankind, as witness the ex-
traordinary rush for farms whenever new
territory is opened. Very little free land
is obtainable now, but cheap land and
good land is still plentiful and fairly
accessible. While it is of course true
that some capital is required to engage
in the business, it is a further fact that
to commence in a small way a man
requires less capital than to start in any
other business, and his chances of suc-
cess are much better. For in any event
it is no trick at all for the farmer,
whether he is a renter or an owner of
a farm, to make a comfortable living.
From his garden alone, with an outlay
of not to exceed five dollars for seeds
and garden implements, he can raise
vegetables not only to last him during
the Summer and Fall, but to fill his
cellar during the Winter months. He
can begin early in the Spring, planting
lettuce, beets, spinach, radishes, onions
— from sets; beans, peas, potatoes, to-
matoes— from plants, and have variety
and abundance in a few weeks. He
can replant about every two or three
weeks and have his table constantly
supplied.

Later, he can plant squashes, pump-
kins, turnips and cabbages and have his
cellar stocked for cold weather with an
ample supply, together with his potatoes,
to last him until green vegetables come
on during the next Spring. Straw-
berries, raspberries and blackberries
can be cultivated at very little expense.
And all the vegetables raised are brought
to the table absolutely fresh and deli-
ciously palatable. Many other vege-
tables than those named can be had,
but these make up the staple ones, with
which a table can be generously pro-
vided at a minimum cost.
There is no royal road to gardening.

BACK TO THE FARM

209

All that it requires is a stout and trusty
hoe and a good right arm. Keep the
ground around your plants well stirred
up after sundown, so that the dews can
get at them and the warmth from the
sun penetrate to their roots, and you will
hardly need to do any watering. Seed
stores furnish books free which give a
great deal of valuable information, and
a very little experience — at the most, one
season — will make a pretty fair gardener
of any man or woman.

As for meat, the average farmer has
plenty of it, curing hams and bacon him-
self and raising and killing his own beef.
The farmers eat meat mostly in the
Winter time, as a regular diet, and while
they have it on hand during the other
seasons, they diversify it with eggs,
chickens, game and fish. The farmers
live better than any other class of people
in the world. They have what no one
but themselves can have — everything
absolutely pure, fresh and of best
quality. A few chickens will furnish
eggs and poultry for family use; a
couple of hogs and one steer will give
an abundance of meat, for as they "kill"
and divide with their neighbors they
establish a provisional reciprocity which
brings them other meat at different
times and keeps them in stock.

Milk and butter they have always, and
corn furnishes both "roasting ears" in
the early Summer and corn meal the
year 'round. Meanwhile, the men who
live by manual labor in the cities are
ground down to the stone's edge for 'the
barest necessaries of life. They are at
the mercy of trusts and combinations for
their food and breadstuffs, and doctored
milk and oleomargerine products are
foisted on them the year around.

The farmer dresses as he pleases when
he goes about his work. It may be
rough duck "overalls," cowhide shoes,
a hickory shirt and a slouch hat, but
it's what "the boss" is wearing. He
has good clothes to wear when he goes
to town or to a meeting of his lodge or

society, or to church. But he does not
have to spend a significant portion of
what he earns in clothing, as a clerk
or employe in the cities is compelled to.
Excepting the laborers, men employed
in the cities must dress fairly well;
and cuffs, collars, white shirts, neat
business suits, "dressy" shoes, laundry
bills, shoe shining stands, ties, studs,
cuff and collar buttons, gloves, mufflers,
Spring overcoats, belts, fobs, scarf pins
and a hundred and one sly pettinesses
of apparel separate many a poor devil
of a business and professional man from
his dollars in the towns.

Many a man fails at the trades, in the
professions and in business ventures.
Few farmers fail. It is next fo impossi-
ble not to earn a comfortable and even
a comparatively luxurious living (as
compared to the way the average dweller
in cities fares) on a farm, if a man is
willing to work. And while the old say-
ing that there is always work to be done
on a farm is fairly accurate, the far-
mer, notwithstanding, has much leisure
time. In the Winter, for instance,
there is nothing to be done but provid-
ing firewood and doing "the chores."
After the crops are in, during the Spring,
there is a season of masterly inactivity.
He works hard when he does work, but
if it pours down rain, or storms, he
sits in his house and enjoys himself.
He is "the boss"; and there is no one
to dock him for non-appearance in the
fields, or to look sour if he is late at
his task.

Men in the cities work twice as hard
as the farmers, and they get few or no
holidays. Thousands and thousands of
professional men, clerks and men in
small business enterprises delve and
moil their entire lives away and at the
end are carted out to the cemeteries
without having had any more leisure or
enjoyment in their lives than a horse
on a treadmill. The rut they toil along
in is as narrow as a caseknife. They
are part and parcel of that vast army

2IO

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

which invades the cities in the pursuit
of the igniis fatuus of contentment, and
mistakes excitement for happiness.

The case of the laboring man is
peculiarly hard. He usually belongs to
a union and is often involved in a
strike. His hours may be short or long,
but it takes all that he can make to earn
a living. More than that, his girls and
boys are working at the stores and fac-
tories to eke out the scanty income of
the father. His fare is coarse and mostly
unwholesome. He is at the beck and
call of some foreman, and above the fore-
man is the superintendent, and higher
yet is the real "boss." He is be-bossed
until the yearning for independence is
replaced by a deep feeling of resentment
or a brutish hopelessness. Thoreau said
that most men lived lives of "quiet des-
peration." That is absolutely true so
far as the cities are concerned.

But when the splendid and emanci-
pating project of governmental irriga-
tion is fully under way there will be one
great step forward taken to free these

slaves. And when men come better to
understand that a farmer is, generally
speaking, not only the most independent
of men, but that he lives a better, hap-
pier, and more complete life than any
of the men of the laboring classes in the
cities, then will come that silent trend
to the fields by those whom fate has so
long defrauded of their birthright.

The cities are terribly overcrowded.
The professions are full to overflowing.
The trusts have clutched the business
world by the throat. "Money-mad,"
says one man of another. The nation
is money-mad. But progress is in
cycles; and from this age of luxury,
discontent and passion for wealth will
come a more sane and healthful era.
Already the shadow of a great financial
crisis has appeared. Already the mut-
terings of the storm to come have mani-
fested themselves. In the wreck of for-
tunes and communities, in the disasters
which will sweep the cities like a de-
stroying fire, there will still remain, as
always, the refuge of the farms.

THE CLOSED WINDOW

By Columbine

NEW ORLEANS. LOUISIANA

A BREEZE comes down the dusty street,
The roses stir and sigh;
My book slips idly to the floor,
A thistle-witch blows by.
Through day and night, at wakeful noon,
And in my dreams I see
A shuttered window, closed and barred,—
The one thing left for me.

A briar rose into the blind
Has boldly pushed its way,
As long ago it climbed the tower
Where a charmed princess lay.
Ah, little flower, no sleeping maid
Within those walls doth dwell,
But silence as of death and ghosts
Of old thin s loved too well.

At dusk a thousand stars shine out
For those who see their light.
I had one star to guide my path —
My star is quenched in night !
The single ray, serene and pure
That from her window shone !
Through all the watches of the night
I wander, lost and lone.

Oh heart, so loved, so far from me,

This is my living fear —

That you are closed and barred for aye,

As this poor window here !

I stretch my arms into the void,

My heart cries out for pain.

Ah, roses at the voiceless bars ,

You waste your lives in vain.

NOVEMBER SUGGESTIONS TO
FLOWER GROWERS

By Eva Ry man-Gaillard

GIRARD, PENNSYLVANIA

A SUPPLY of materials for protecting
bulb beds and all tender, or half-hardy
plants or shrubs, should be secured during
this month. As it is the alternate freezing
and thawing of early Spring which does the
greatest damage, the work of covering may
be left until very late in the season, but in
localities where protection is needed snow
will probably interfere with the work of
securing the covering material if not done
soon.

A cover to shield from the sun, and so pre-
vent an early flow of sap, or thawing of the
soil, is what is needed ; care should be
taken that it does not pack solid and exclude
air. Boughs from evergreen trees are the
best covering but if these are not available
any small branches may be put over the beds
and leaves thrown over them. Corn stalks,
hay, or straw may be used ; but the seeds in
such materials are a bait for rats and mice
which may injure the plants.

It is a good plan to get soil for Winter use
after a slight freeze, as insects go down to
avoid the cold near the surface and fewer
will be taken with the soil.

Prepare a quantity- of fine soil for the seed
pans to be used early in the Spring ; keep it
moist and warm until every weed seed has
sprouted, then set it out where they will
"freeze to death."

This method of getting rid of the weeds is
better than heating the soil, for the reason
that a degree of heat sufficient to kill the
seeds will liberate and waste elements of the
soil which are essential to plant growth.

To cut away diseased branches or foliage
and leave it lying on the ground is a sure
way of spreading whatever disease they were
affected with. Burning these, and every-
thing in the way of dead vegetation, lessens
next year's work to a marked degree, for it
destroys millions of weed seeds, insects and
and eggs, as well as destroying their hiding
places.

Ashes from such materials contain a large
percentum of phosphate and are one of the
best fertilizers for a lawn.

If the ordering of Easter lily ( Lillum
Harrisii) bulbs has been neglected, do not
think it is too late, but remember that Easter
comes on one of its late dates next year
(April 15) and order them at once. There
is a great difference in the size of bulbs and
a seemingly disproportionate difference in
the price, but the one who pays the price and
gets the largest and soundest bulbs, will get
more beauty from them than could be had
from several times the money if invested in
a greater number of small bulbs.

Lilies need very rich soil but if barn-yard
fertilizers are used they must be well rotted,
and put below the soil surrounding the bulb.
As a rule, it is better to give liquid fertilizers
after the buds have started than to risk burn-
ing the roots.

A pot of freesias, in bloom, makes a de-
lightful Easter gift and November is the
time to pot them for that purpose.

If pansy and violet roots are taken from
the beds, potted in rich soil and kept in

212

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

cool rooms with north or east windows they
will furnish their full quota of the Winter's
floral display.

Crowns (pips) of lily of the valley may
be taken up and potted ; then kept in a dark
place where the temperature is just above
freezing point until wanted, and will come
into bloom very quickly when brought into
strong light and warmth.

The garden plants which bloom early in
the Spring have their blossom germs fully
matured before cold weather comes and'any
of them may be forced into bloom during
the Winter by taking a little trouble to give
them, indoors, the condition of light and
warmth which is natural to them at the
blooming season.

A few of each kind will give the variety
which we need in flowers as well as in other
things and amply repay the little time and
trouble expended on them.

ECONOMICAL MEAT DISHES
By Katharine Megee

WAYNESBORO, VIRGINIA

IN the majority of homes, meat is the most
costly article of food, yet it is surprising
how few housewives give the matter serious
consideration or do what they might to re-
duce this expense. Confounding price with
nutrition, they become imbued with the idea
that only the high priced cuts of meat are
wholesome, and thus entirely lose sight of
the fact that some of the inferior cuts con-
tain equally as much nourishment, and in
the hands of the clever cook can be rendered
not only as palatable but also as attractive
to the eye. The appended recipes, which
are by no means exhaustive, will serve to il-
lustrate this truth, and at the same time
afford acceptable changes from the steak
and roast which appear with such monoto-
nous regularity on so many tables the year
round.

BEEF BRAISE: Take a piece of rump of
the desired size ; pound tender, tie and
skewer, then lay in a deep baking pan pre-
viously lined with thin slices of salt pork and
sliced onion; cover the top of the meat with
slices of pork, sprinkle lightly with pepper,
add a cup of boiling water, dredge thickly
with flour, cover closely and bake in a slow
oven, allowing twenty minutes to the pound.
Then uncover, take out the meat, skim off
the fat and thicken the broth for gravy.

BRAISED CALF'S LIVER : Lay the liver in

a dish, pour on boiling water to cover, and
immediately pour it off, which will seal up
the juices and remdve the unpleasant flavor
which many persons find unpalatable. Lard
the rounded side with salt pork. Fry an
onion in bacon fat, then put it with the liver
in a braising pan or a deep baking dish ;
sprinkle lightly salt and pepper, add a bay
leaf and a little minced parsley ; pour over
enough boiling water to half cover, put on
the lid and bake two hours in a steady oven.
When done, season the broth with lemon
juice, pour over the liver and serve at once.

BROWN STEW: Put a rather thick piece
of beef with little bone and some fat over
the fire in a stew kettle ; pour over it just
enough boiling water to cover, season with
pepper, put on a closely fitting lid and bring
quickly to a boil, then move to a cooler part
of the range and simmer four hours, or until
the meat is tender, turning it occasionally
and adding, as needed, just enough boiling
water to prevent scorching. An hour before
dishing the meat, season with salt. Thicken
the drippings for gravy.

VEAL FRICASSEE: Cut two pounds of
veal — the ribs, the back or knuckle — into
small pieces and take out the bones. Place
over the fire and cover with boiling water ;
bring to a boil, skim well, add two small
onions, some thin slices of salt pork and a
saltspoon of pepper; cover closely, remove
to a cooler part of the range and simmer
until the meat is thoroughly done ; then add
one tablespoon flour wet up with a little cold
water, and a cup of cream or rich milk.
Boil five minutes. Before sending to the ta-
ble garnish with rounds of hard boiled eggs.

BEEF LOAF: Put three pounds of chuck
steak through a meat chopper ; add to it one
cup grated bread crumbs, three beaten eggs,
one tablespoon salt, a dash of cayenne and
one tablespoon melted butter. Mix all to-
gether and form into a loaf. Put into a
baking pan, pour in a little boiling water and
bits of butter, cover and bake an hour and
a quarter, basting occasionally. Serve hot
with tomato sauce or cold with tomato
catsup.

MOCK DUCK: Score an inch thick round
steak with a sharp knife. Prepare a stuffing
as for chicken and spread over the steak ;
fold it over and tie or skewer in place. Put
in a dripping pan, lay over it a few slices of
salt pork and bake forty-five minutes.

DELICIOUS STEAK: Cut chuck steak into
pieces of uniform size and score them on
both sides with a sharp knife. Dredge each
piece with flour, patting it in well with the
hands. Have ready over the fire in a frying

THE HOME

pan meat drippings at blue flame heat. Put
in the steak, fry brown on one side, dredging
with more flour, if the juices appear on the
surface, then turn and brown the other side;
sprinkle with salt and cover with boiling
water, put on a closely fitting lid and stew
gently for fifteen minutes.

SPICED BEEF: Mix together the follow-
ing ground spices: one-half ounce pepper, the
same of allspice, one-fourth ounce each of
cloves and ginger and one-fourth pound salt,
one-fourth ounce saltpetre and two ounces
brown sugar. Rub this over five pounds of
beef cut from the round. Put in an earthen
vessel and turn every other day for two
weeks. Then add enough boiling water to
cover the meat, put over the fire and boil
gently until tender. Let stand in the liquor
until quite cold. To serve, slice very thin
across the grain.

HASHED MEAT ON TOAST: Stew gently
for thirty minutes in half a pint of rich stock,
one pint chopped raw meat dredged with
flour and sprinkled lightly with pepper; then
add one tablespoon butter and salt to season.
Have six slices of toast arranged on a serv-
ing platter ; spread the hash over the toast
and serve at once.

"WHAT A HAPPY BOY YOU ARE TO GO
A-DREAMING SO "

LUMP O' COMFORT
By Eleanor W. F. Bates

ROSLINDALE, MASSACHUSETTS

BEFORE he sips the silver cup
With sweet warm milk a-brimming,

Before he eats the biscuit up,

Our baby goes a-swimming.
Now, Mary, fetch the bath tub in,
The oval, greeny-goldy tin ;
And here's the sponge as soft as silk,
And here's the soap as white as milk,
And here are towels many and small,
And here's the littlest rubber ball

To set the princeling playing ;
He wavers, but he cannot fall

Where his pink feet are straying,
For mother's arm is closely set
About him, wriggling, warm and wet —

He laughs at what she's saying:
"O Lump o' Comfort, Lump o' Comfort O,
What a funny boy you are to go a-swimming
so!"

Almost before the bath is done,

His half -shut eyes soft beaming;

Almost before the milk's begun,
Our baby goes a-dreaming.

Now, Mary, bring the broidered shawl

And put away the rubber ball.

Like to a fair five petalled rose

Fresh from the bath his small hand glows ;

So tender and so dear it is,

Give it the lightest, lightest kiss —

We must not wake our baby ;
But we may sing soft melodies,

He will sleep sounder, maybe,
And dream of flowers and stars and birds
And pretty smiles and loving words,

So blessed shall his day be.
O Lump o' Comfort, Lump o' Comfort O,
What a happy boy you are to go a-dream-
ing so !

HOME HAPPINESS
By Milla Landon

BRIGHTON, NEW YORK

HOME, the dearest place on earth if love
opens and closes the door. Homes are
as strangely unlike as the inhabitants therein;
a log hut in the wilderness, or the four walls
of but one room can bound the confines of
an earthly paradise if the two who have
promised to walk adown life's pathway to-
gether are congenial companions, and decide
from the start to pull together instead of

214

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

THE NIGHT BLOOMING CEREUS

one at each end of the rope. In the days of
long ago a young husband, who, with the
woman of his choice, had commenced house-
keeping in a very humble way, was being
questioned about their home. He answered:
" We are so comfortable and happy that we
would not take a thousand dollars for the
legs of our dining table." Why? Because
the improvised table was a board placed on
the lap of husband and wife as they sat fac-
ing each other.

It is said that " Trifles light as air make
up the sum of human existence." Little
words of cheer, or of praise when certain
things are well done ; little acts of thought-
fnlness one for another help to make the
home happy, since no house is an ideal
abiding place where one member, whether
child or adult, is catered to regardless of
others, unless that one is a suffering invalid.
If the wife finds it necessary to "tidy up a
bit" before the husband returns from busi-
ness, it is equally complimentary to her that
he should not appear at breakfast in too
slovenly attire simply because " there's no
one but the wife about." Another trifling
thing is the arrangement of the table, for
even if the linen be immaculate, the china
pretty and silver fine, if things are set on
haphazard it is not as inviting as it might

be, since there are various ways of serving
food so that it will be attractive as well as
appetizing. It will take but a moment
longer when looking over and shaking the
water from crisp, curly leaves of lettuce to
place them, stems downward, in a round
glass dish, the larger ones first, then layer
after layer filling in towards the center in
imitation of the solid lettuce head as it came
from the gardener's patch; then when the
husband, or perchance a guest, says, "It
really looks too pretty to disturb," you will
feel repaid. How often a cluster of flowers
in the center of the table serves as a pleasant
topic of conversation while the soup or meat
is being handed round ; as though the sight
sense was also being satisfied. Some years
ago, at a fashionable Summer resort, one of
the guests while wandering over " highways
and byways" and hillside paths, gathered
and arranged a large boquet of feathery
June grasses, and leaves and branches of
various shades of green and brown, which
was jokingly presented to the hostess pre-
siding over " the cottage," who put them in
place of the usual flowers on the dinner
table; and when the guests were seated there,
they not only admired, but wondered why
they had never before known how beautiful
could be made a simple cluster of leaves.

We have known housekeepers who de-
layed preparations for dinner or supper until
the husband came in sight, then anything
that was at hand was hastily cooked and set
out. One woman who always has " so much
to do," — reading and rocking a goodly part
of the Summer day on the cool piazza —
wonders how her neighbor manages to have
such a variety on her table. " Our people
like warm biscuit," she says, " but it is such
a trouble to make them." The other woman
considers the making a pleasure rather than
a hard task, her kitchen being provided with
a gas stove, the oven of which is heated
while the biscuits are being prepared, and
in twenty minutes after, the puffy, nicely
browned creations are ready for the table.

One does not have to remain long in a
household to discover whether all the vi-
brant strings are adjusted so as to give out
one harmonious tune, or whether there are
rescordant notes that mar the family peace.
A hard working woman, the mother of seven
children, often at the twilight hour gathers
the youngsters together for a song recital
while she plays accompaniments on the
wheezy old organ; even the little one of
three years joins in singing the familiar
tunes. It is the children's happiest hour,
consequently there is always lingering in
their memory the remembrance of some

THE HOME

215

melody which mother has taught them ; and
when the older lads are sent out to saw a
few sticks of wood the work is lightened by
their make-believe pretence that they are
running some sort of an engine, or an auto-
mobile.

An interesting book read aloud during
long Winter evenings is a most unselfish
way of enjoying some of the intellectual
fruits of the present day. " Come over to-
night," calls out Tom to Harry, who answers,
" Can't possibly do so because I want to
hear how that story ends which father is
reading." After the book is finished and
laid aside an animated discussion brings out
the girls' and boys' brightest ideas, espec-
ially if the book was of travel, history,
science or something similar, which may
lead them to deeper research in the public
library for better information than the
parents can give.

As the many factory whistles in a great
city sound the hour for closing down, and
streets are thronged with weary pedestrians
on their homeward way, one often wonders
if home to them is significant of just a shel-
ter from the elements, or that they know
there awaits them some dear one, wife or
mother, with welcoming smile, and little
children's arms outstretched to close the
loving bands which make such homes a bit of
earthly paradise because love dwelleth there.

TO CLEAN LACES

By G. W. S.
Lester, Indian Territory

Clean delicate white laces with calcined magnesia
after the following manner : Sprinkle the lace thickly
with the magnesia on both sides. Lay it on a sheet of
heavy writing paper, place a second sheet over it and
put it away within the leaves of a heavy book for four
or five days. Then shake off the powder and the lace
will be proved to be clean.

Laces can be whitened by soaking in soap suds in
the sun. They should never be rubbed but soused up
and down very gently and squeezed between the hands
until they are only damp, not dry.

To clean white silk laces soak in skimmed milk over
night, souse in warm soap suds, carefully rinse, then
pull out and press down while damp.

Black lace may be cleaned with borax water. Use
one teasponful of borax to a pint of warm water.
Don't dry it near a fire : heat is apt to make rt rusty.
Gold and silver laces can be cleaned with stale bread
crumbs mixed with powdered blue. To a half loaf of
bread take one-quarter of a pound of the powdered
blue. Sprinkle thickly over the lace and let stand for
some time. Brush off and brush lightly with a piece
of velvet. Laces are given a creamy color by putting
small quantities of strained coffee or powdered saffron
in the rinsing water until the right cream or ecru
color or shade is produced.

CANNING PIE PLANT

By M. L. KERNEY
Camden, New Jersey

Pick when it is long and good, cut up and put in
glass fruit cans, press down, cover with cold water,
seal and put away. It will keep fresh until the
new crop comes. In sections where the fruit is scarce
it can be easily raised, and is easily kept as described.

LITTLE HELPS FOR HOME-
MAKERS

For each little help found suited for use in this de-
partment, we award one year's subscription to the
National Magazine. If you are already a subscriber,
you can either extend your own term or send the Na-
tional to a friend. If your little help does not appear,
it is probably because the same idea has been offered
by someone else before you. Try again. Enclose a
stamped and self addressed envelope if you wish us
to return unavailable offerings.

A CURE FOR BURNS

By MRS. JAMES M. MERRILL
Grant, Michigan

Turpentine and camphor gum— all the gum the tur-
pentine will cut — applied to a burn will take out the
fire, and heal it up, no matter how bad the burn, and
will not leave a scar.

ENRICHING THE GRAVY

By ETHEL SPRIGGS
Chicago, Illinois

If the chicken or meat lacks in richness, the gravy
may be made excellent by beating an egg with a little
milk and adding to the gravy with the flour.

"FEED THE BRUTE'

2l6

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

EXERCISING ON A "HOME TRAINER"

SEWING SUGGESTIONS

By MRS. T. A. ROSE
Morningside, Sioux City, Iowa

To prevent machine stitching from drawing or
puckering, soak a spool of thread in a cup of water for
six hours, then dry before using.

If colored thread is oiled with machine oil it will be
stronger and work more easily.

WHEN COOKING OYSTERS

By M. M.
Creston, Iowa

Never salt for soups or stews until just before re-
moving from the fire.

In frying oysters a little baking powder added to the
cracker crumbs will greatly improve them.

Escalloped oysters retain their flavor better if carved
while cooking.

Half the liquor, heated, or hot milk, may be poured
over escalloped oysters when half baked.

It is always better to handle oysters with a fork, as
contact with the hands may make them tough.

THE COOKIES WON'T BURN

By J. C. S.
Creston, Iowa

Keep your cookies from burning on the bottom.
Turn the baking pan upside down and bake on the
b jttom of the pan and you will never do any other way.

WHEN MAKING BERRY JAM

By MRS. C. N. WHEELER
Riverside, California

I wash and pick my berries and before heating I take
my wire potato masher and wash them thoroughly.
When all nicely washed I stir in my sugar. Then I
put on the stove and just let it come to the boil, stir-
ring so it will heat evenly. I let it boil about three
minutes and then can in glass jars same as I would
any fruit and I find after two years my jams taste just
like fruit right off the vine. I never again would stand
and stir jams by the hour in the old way.

TO BURN OUT SOOT

By MRS. J. G. COURTNEY
Washington, Indiana

If newspapers saturated with kerosene are put on
top of the cook stove just under the lids and back of
the draft in the pipe and fired, the accumulated soot
will burn out.

PICNIC SANDWICHES

By MRS. A. M. RIGGS
Verdon, Minnesota

Bake the bread in quart cans and press the chopped
meat or chicken in cans of the same size. When both
are cold put very thin slices of the meat between two
buttered slices of the bread. If your bread and meat
are good you will be proud of your sandwiches.

IT IMPROVES RHUBARB

By MRS. WILLIAM KINCAID

Easton, Pennsylvania

One-half tablespoon of cornstarch dissolved and
added to rhubarb when done cooking takes away the
disagreeable feeling rhubarb leaves on the teeth, a very
objectionable feature of that plant.

CURE FOR "RUN-AROUND"
By MRS. M. A. COX
Brookline, New Hampshire

Mutton tallow and white chalk blended together and
bound on the finger is a sure cure for run-around. The
same is an excellent remedy for felons if applied when
first started.

PERSPIRATION STAINS

By D. R.
Forest, Ohio

Gingham or other colored shirt waists that have be-
come discolored by perspiration under the arms may
be restored by soaking the waist an hour or two in
cold water, then use plenty of corn meal to rub the
places — instead of soap — when washing.

OIL PICKLES

By MRS. EDWARD HUNT

Ovid, New York

Twenty-five medium sized cucumbers, sliced thin —
not pared; one-quarter teacupful black mustard seed;
one tablespoonful celery salt; one-quarter teacupful
white mustard seed ; one-quarter teacupful table salt;
three pints vinegar; one cupful olive oil. Pack in
small jar and let stand one week before using.

THE HOME

217

USES OF BUTTERMILK
By MRS. D. J. S.
Caledonia, New York

Should you be so unfortuate as to be poisoned by
poison ivy, bathe the affected parts in buttermilk
every ten or fifteen minutes until the poison is counter-
acted. Should the case be a severe one poultice the
blisters with bread and buttermilk poultice, it will
give relief very soon and will cure the most severe cases.

Buttermilk will remove mildew from cloth, white or
colored. Soak the garment overnight then lay it on
the grass in the sunlight. If the stain is set, soak the
cloth for two or three days and lay it in the sun.

Buttermilk is excellent for freshening salt pork for
frying. Slice the pork and soak over night, or set on
the stove and just let it come to a boil, dip in flour
and fry.

TO REVIVE WILTED ROSES
By MYRTLE BECKER

Emporia, Kansas

Wilted roses, seemingly fit only for the rubbish heap,
may be completely revived and freshened. Put the
stems of the roses in a tumbler of water, and then
place the tumbler and roses in a vessel of sufficient
size to allow the entire boquet to be covered. Cover
the vessel tightly and leave undisturbed for twenty-
four hours. By that time the roses will be found all
fresh and invigorated as if just plucked from the
bushes, with every petal covered with artificial dew.
Wilted lettuce may also be freshened and kept in ex-
cellent condition for weeks if treated in the same way.

FOR A PAINFUL ACCIDENT

By MINNIE M. BARTLETT

Waterloo, Iowa

In case you should step on a rusty nail, tack or pin,
just set your foot in a basin of kerosene. It will save
the doctor's bill and suffering.

SIMPLE FURNITURE POLISH

By L. M. McCOY
Rapid City, South Dakota

The following is the finest furniture polish I have
ever known. Take one part turpentine, one part kero-
sene and one part vinegar and apply to furniture with
flannel cloth, and then polish with soft flannel and the
furniture will look like new.

CAKE WITHOUT EGGS

By MRS. CHARLES MORGAN

Culebra, Panama Canal Zone

I have been reading your magazine and trying your
home helps for some time and although I am not a
subscriber I have a recipe that may help some one.
Eggs are very scarce here, so I do all my baking by
this recipe, and find it a great help :

One-half cup of butter, one cup of sugar, two cups
of flour, one cup of sweet milk, two teaspoonfuls of
baking powder, one teaspoonful of vanila. Mix and
bake in layers with any desired filling.

BUYING BABY'S WARDROBE

By MRS. K. S.
Boston, Massachusetts

I would like to tell the mothers who read the Na-
tional, of the most satisfactory way to arrange for
baby's wardrobe, or the purchase of clothes for the
older children. Send to Best & Co., 60 and 62 West
Twenty-Third Street, New York, and ask for their
catalog. Every mother desires the correct thing in
wearing apparel for her children, and this firm has
exclusive styles — from the first plain morning wrap-
per to the elaborate christening robe — every garment
perfect in finish and material. I know if you purchase
from Best & Company once you will remain a custom-
er, as I have.

SMOKY LAMPS
By H. M. MALLOY

Moorhead, Minnesota

To prevent the smoking of a lamp, soak the wick in
strong vinegar, and dry it well before using. It will
then burn both sweet and pleasant.

TO FASTEN LABELS ON TIN

By "AMATEUR"

Ludlow, Vermont

Allow one-half ounce of tragacanth and two ounces
of acacia to stand in one-half pint of water until the
acacia has been dissolved, then strain and add two
ounces of glycerine, in which seven grains of thymol
are suspended. Shake the mixture well and add suffic-
ient water to make one pint.

This separates on standing, but by shaking once or
twice it is mixed sufficiently for use.

BIG BILL AND LITTLE BILL

2l8

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

GETTING RID OF TIN CANS

By M. W. D.
White Bear Lake, Minnesota

A good way to prevent empty tin cans from accu-
mulating and becoming a nuisance is to open the
other end, so that both flaps will be on the same side,
press them inside, then place your foot on the can, flat-
tening it out like a pancake. In this shape it takes
up very much less room.

WASHING SILK UNDERWEAR

By MAX A. R. BRUNNER
Chicago, Illinois

Articles made of silk should always be washed in
tepid water and the soap used on them should not be
caustic. White castile soap or any good white soap
will answer. If the silks are to be kept white, am-
monia should not be used as it gives a yellow tinge ; a
little borax, however, may be used. If the silk is of an
ecru shade ammonia may be employed.

Never rub silk garments on the board in washing ;
always rub them with *he hands. Make a strong suds
of tepid water and add to it one teaspoonful of borax,
which has been dissolved in a pint of boiling water.
This is enough for two pailsful of suds. Put the silk
garments into it and let stand for twenty minutes or
half an hour, then wash them with the hands. Rinse
in two waters, run through the wringer and hang them
out. When a little more than half dried take them in
and spread on a sheet. Roll them up tightly, let them
stand about an hour and then press them. Use a
rather cool iron and have a clean white cloth or brown
paper between the iron and silk.

FRIED SQUASH

By MRS. C. W. TILDEN
Los Angeles, California

Having noticed Mrs. Maude Golding's recipe for
frying squash in the August issue of the National, I
thought I should like to tell our "home-makers" some-
thing further about the matter.

• Cut the squash into thin slices, dip into egg, powder
with cracker dust and fry in boiling lard. It fries very
crisp and makes a delightful substitute for meat now
and then.

CURE FOR CONSUMPTION

By MRS. F. J. MORRISON
Corydon, Warren County, Pennsylvania

I lost two daughters by consumption, this recipe is
what I think saved the third, who came home from
Normal school pale, weak, having no appetite, with a
bad cough and a rise of temperature of one and one-
half degrees every day.

Break one fresh egg into an ordinary sized tumbler,
beat well, add one tablespoonful of granulated sugar,
beat again, add the juice of one half a lemon, fill up
the glass with water and stir well. To be taken morn-
ing, noon and night ; after a few days give the patient
a glass midway between the others, and so on until
from eight to nine glasses can be taken daily. The
egg and sugar nourish, the lemon juice stimulates the
stomach to digest and the water supplies the moisture
the fever is burning up.

Drugs cannot cure consumption. If the stomach
can assimilate food and the patient will live in the
open air and sunshine only is there hope. TRY THIS
IN TIME and the patient will be saved, and you will
thank God for the "little help" in the National
Magazine.

RELIEF FOR CROUP

By J. E. FINNEY
Paxico, Kansas

One tablespoonful of lard and one-half teaspoonful
of essence of peppermint thoroughly mixed, put in a
dish and placed over lamp on Giant Heater to heat,
and applied while warm to throat and chest, will
relieve a " croupy" child.

CLEANSING FLUID

By FRANCES O. SEELEY

Bridgeton, New Jersey

Dissolve one-sixth of an ounce of saltpetre in one
quart of soft water, add one ounce of ammonia (liquid),
one ounce of bay rum. Put in bottle, cork tight,
apply with sponge.

KEEP TINS FROM RUSTING

By A. M. CLARKE

Beaumont, Mississippi

Tin vessels used in water often rust. 1 his can be
prevented by greasing well and baking in oven. They
will not rust then, no matter how much used in water.
Care should be taken not to burn the vessel.

EGG FOR AN INVALID

By MRS. L. D. EATON
Mount Dora, Florida

Beat the yolk and white separately until extremely
light, add a pinch of salt, pour into a china cup, which
set in a sauce pan of hot water, stirring constantly
till scalded, but not cooked. When this is done
slowly, the egg just thickens slightly, but puffs up until
the cup is almost filled with creamy custard. Set in
the oven a moment and serve at once.

SHAWL

KNITTED
COLORS

IN TWO

By MRS. L. C. MORRISON
Brunswick, Maine

Wind a skein each of two colors into a ball, knitting
as one thread. Cast on eighty stitches and make scarf
two yards long. Crochet a scallop for the long edge.
Fringe the short ends with a fringe of twenty chain in
two colors.

REMEMBER THIS NEXT APRIL
By MRS. F. E. RICHARDSON

Memphis, Tennessee

To prevent bugs from eating your cucumber vines,
plant one stalk of garlic in each cucumber hill : noth-
ing will then bother the plant.

NEW WAY OF FIXING BEANS

By MRS. E. C. BRAMBLE
Muskegon Heights, Michigan

Take one pint dry white beans, boil until tender,
as for baked beans, then allow the water to boil away
and season and mash with potato masher. Pack
tightly in a dish and when thoroughly cold, cut in
slices and serve.

THE HOME

219

CANNING PEACHES

By MRS. O. S. SODAL
Hudson, Wisconsin

When canning peaches place a dozen at a time in a
pan, pour over them boiling water, let stand two or
three minutes, then pour off the water, the thin skin of
the peach will peel off easily and the fruit will not be
soft or mushy.

WHEN BOILING VEGETABLES

By K. S. W.
Des Moines, Iowa

When cooking lima beans, rice, etc., it is very pro-
voking to have them foam and- sputter from the kettle
onto one's clean stove. Drop into the kettle a small
lump of butter and there will be no " boiling over."

A LAMP WICK HINT

By ELIZABETH JOHNSON
Jamestown, Pennsylvania

A dull knife will trim lamp wicks evenly and without
waste. Scrape the wicks from each end toward the
middle.

MAKING CABBAGE DIGESTIBLE

By MRS. GRACE EBY
Falmouth, Indiana

Cabbage is made digestible by first slicing and then
putting in boiling water with a pinch of soda and some
salt, and boiling just fifteen minutes.

DEFECTIVE FRUIT CANS

By MRS. O'DONOUGHUE
Albion, Michigan

When fruit cans are defective, run white wax —
melted— around the top where metal and rubber unite.
It has proved a sure remedy, is easily applied with a
spoon and can be repeated many times.

PREPARING PUMPKIN FOR PIE

By WINIFRED LAWRENCE
Newton Falls, Ohio

In cooking pumpkin for pies or drying, if it seems
watery, run it through the collander, then strain it
through a cloth, and it will be found fine and dry.

BUTTONS THAT STAY ON

By MRS. I. L. RONSHEIM
Middletown, Ohio

Place a pin across the top of the button, and sew
over that, thus holding the thread so that when the
pin is removed the button is not close to the cloth ;
then wrap the thread a few times around the stem thus
formed. The buttons will stay on as long as the gar-
ment lasts.

BRIGHT FRYING PANS

By MRS. W. H. MOORE

Minneapolis, Minnesota
Boil a little vinegar in them before washing.

HINT FOR WALKERS

By MRS. ELLA CHAPIN
Kensington, Maryland

If you are going to take a long walk, first rub that
side of your stocking which is next to your feet well
with soap, and your feet will never blister.

TOUGH PINEAPPLES

By H. W. W.
Orlando, Florida

The toughness of pineapples is almost entirely elim-
inated by slicing the fruit up and down, from stem to
blossom end, instead of through the core as is usually
done. Thrust a fork into the blossom end to hold the
apple steady and slice until you come to the hard,
pithy core which can then be discarded. This trick
was taught me by an old pineapple grower and makes
all the difference in the world in the tenderness of this
fruit, which is usually hard and chippy when sliced
with instead of against the grain.

WIRE CHAIR BOTTOMS
By MRS. L. W. BRAY
Fair Forest, South Carolina

Bottom your own worn out chairs. Get a piece of
common chicken wire netting, cut it the shape of the
chair bottom you wish to put in; only let it be two
inches larger all around than the size of the chair;
turn in the edges and tack, just as you would a wooden
bottom. Your chair will be far more comfortable
than any wooden bottom and the expense is almost
nothing. For a rocking chair a light cushion is an
addition. Since using the wire bottom I have entirely
discarded the wooden bottoms for chairs.

OLIVE OIL IN BAKED BEANS

By MRS. L. W. WEST
Worcester, Massachusetts

Use five full tablespoons of olive oil to one quart
of dry beans. They are delicious and more easily
digested than when pork is used.

KEEPING RHUBARB FRESH

By N. E. D.
Lawrence, Massachusetts

Rhubarb can be kept fresh and crisp several days
by standing the stalks in a pitcher, or other vessel, of
cold water. By some people it is kept many months,
uncooked, by canning in cold water.

HOT CAKES WITHOUT MILK

By MRS. M. JOHNSON

Newitt, Colorado

When boiling potatoes save your potato water, add
an egg, salt and a large spoonful of sugar and mix it
slowly; then add your baking powder and you will
find your cakes lighter and better than when made with
milk.

WHEN THE CAKE BURNS

By A. I. L.
Denison, Iowa

When baking a cake, if the under 'side becomes
slightly burned, take a lemon grater and rub over the
burned portion, so removing it^ without breaking the
cake, as usually happens when a knife is used.

COMMENT

By Frank Putnam
EZEKIEL JOHNSON

HIS thoughts turned backward, ninety years fiom now,
Ezekiel Johnson, pausing at the plow,
Will wonder why we did some things we do,
And wonder if the history is true
That tells him how the mass of us endured
Grave evils we might easily have cured: —
Our public highways held in private hands;
Land-hungry paupers and man-hungry lands;
Schools teaching knowledge dead in Bacon's day;
Babes bred to toil and stalwart men to play;
The common stock of fuel held in fee —
Not by the public — but by two or three!
The little rills of personal profit blent —
Not to promote the general content —
But stolen and dammed by individual greed
To found a college or endow a creed;
Man, boasting of his future life of bliss,
Accepting, apelike, worried want in this!
These things and many more of curious kind
Will temporarily occupy his mind
Until he shakes his head in solemn wonder
That man has risen so far, who could so blunder.
"G-i-d-d-a-p," he'll slowly drawl, and flick his mules —
Ezekiel, heir of sages — and of fools.

IS THIEVING A SAFE AND GENTEEL PROFESSION?

THE men who took the money of policy the givers, in a deal which both knew to

holders in life insurance companies be plain theft; — a deal which both par-

and gave it to party campaign managers, ties denied — proving their sense of guilt

took what did not belong to them and — until one of them, the insurance

gave it to men who had no shadow of group, was forced to confession under

right — legal or moral — to receive it. the lash of a legislative inquiry.

The receivers were equally guilty with The fact that others had done the same

NOTE AND COMMENT

221

thing before, does not, cannot, excuse
the act fcf the insurance managers; and
the apparent fact that they are unable to
feel the wrong in their act stamps them
as moral idiots, unfit further to be
trusted with anybody's money.

The report that President Roosevelt
has denounced the theft insofar as it
concerned his campaign for the presi-
dency, and has urged restitution of sums
stolen from policy holders to be spent
ostensibly in his behalf, — indicates that
he at least has still some old fashioned
ideas of decency and honor. One good
will flow from this episode in our money-
madness: there will be no further con-
tributions of insurance funds to political
campaign funds. President Paul Morton
of the Equitable, tersely avowing that
he is giving his attention, chiefly, not
to past abuses but to present reforms
and future growth, declares that his
company is done with that practice; and
as for the others, none-of them will have
the hardihood thus to misuse its trust in
the future. No one believes the president
was aware of contributions of this char-
acter in his late campaign,, For Theo-
dore Roosevelt had no need of help so
derived. The people trusted him, and
would have elected him to the presi-
dency if his managers had not spent
a dollar on his campaign. Just so they
will elect any man who wins their con-
fidence by a life of honorable activity
untainted with selfish greed, and there is
not money enough in all Wall street to
beat a man whom the American people
thus believes in.

The collection of a huge campaign
fund by any party is prima facie evi-
dence of an intention to debauch or
befool the electorate. It is a custom
that should be abandoned, that will
be abandoned as soon as shrewd polit-
ical managers perceive — what Theo-
dore Roosevelt has done much to make
clear to them — that in American
politics the best cards a candidate can
present are courage and clean hands.

The legislative inquiry into the
methods of New York's big insurance
companies drives home one fact with
sledge-hammer force, namely, that the
insured are paying a lot more for their
insurance than they ought to be paying,
more than they need pay if the business
were managed without gross extrava-
gance and corruption.

Another smelly fact that crops out
disagreeably in this connection is that
the big insurance companies of the
metropolis have been stabled in the
ornate animal houses of the big banking
firms — Morgan & Co., Kuhn, Loeb &
Co. and Speyer & Co. — and have been
milked with religious regularity by
these precious gentlemen. The New
York Life, with 1135,000.000 or more
of watered securities in its maw, for
which it turned over to Morgan & Co.
real money, the stern, small savings of
a hundred thousand homes, (via Mor-
gan's handy man Perkins, who was play-
ing both ends against the middle) is
a specimen of the way they worked it.

Life insurance, really to insure,
should be conducted by the federal
government, as it is in more enlightened
countries. With the credit and the re-
sources of the whole nation behind
his policy, the insured citizen could
pay in his premiums with absolute cer-
tainty that they would not be wasted
by extravagant managers, and that when
he died his family would get what was
coming to them. And he would not
have to pay more than half as much
as he pays now to private companies,
if the experience of state insurance in
New Zealand is a fair test.

But national insurance for Americans
is perhaps a long way in the future:
what we want now is a new ideal of
service in the private management
of a business so vast and so
potential for good or ill to, so many
millions of people. And the only way
we can get better service is the same
way we can get better city government

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

when \ve really want it — by ceasing trai-
torously to ignore our first duty as policy-
holders and citizens: by taking pains to
get honest men into office and taking
more pains to see that they stay honest
while they remain in office.

Probably good would result from
federal supervision of life insurance,
substituting for state supervision: it is
easy to see that thieves of all grades
are much less gay about running against
federal than against state or local laws.
But laws are no good unless a live public
sentiment keeps them working: there
are laws enough on the statute books
now to make little pink angels of us all
— if we obeyed them; and you can see
for yourself that we are wingless.

Cheap and crooked men get into pub-
lic offices solely because a majority of
otherwise intelligent citizens betray their
city, their state and their country, by
"keeping out of politics." The grafting
plug-uglies who too often get control of
public affairs do so because the rest of
us are too lazy, or too greedy in pursuit
of private ventures, or too cowardly to
get out and put things through straight.
I have more respect for the meanest
grafter of them all, who doesn't know
any better, than I have for the clean-
est citizen who neglects his political
duties, because HE does know better.

Now what are we to do with men who
steal in large sums? — let 'em go free,
proving the persistence within our brains
of the old idea that "the king can do
no wrong? " And if we let the big thieves
go free, shall we keep on jailing little
thieves? Or are we to have a new deal
all round, and treat thievery as a safe
and genteel profession when done
on a big scale? It is certainly
up to us to do one thing or the other:
to jail big thieves as well as little ones,
or to quit jailing either. Because it
stamps us as not only servile but cow-
ardly to grind the little thief while we
kowtow to the big ones. And, such is
the nature of man, we can be sure we
shall have constantly larger crops of
little thieves as long as we allow big
thieves to make a joke of the laws that
should govern us all alike.

It is possible, of course, that I
have stood still intellectually while
the rest of the world has been
advancing to new ethical standards;
but, for the life of me, 1 can't name
a single reason why McCall, Perkins
and the rest of that stripe should not
begin doing time behind prison bars
just as soon as the public prosecutors
can put them there.

But does anybody really believe they
will go there?

THE PRESIDENT'S APPEAL TO THE PEOPLE

(From the Portland Oregonian)

IT has been the policy of Mr. Roosevelt
throughout his career to disregard
political bosses and machines and appeal
directly to the people. Professional
politicians at best think of expediency,
not principles. If they talk of principles
at all it is only to use them as catch
phrases, to serve a passing occasion and
be laid aside; just as they would use any
other means to a desired end. To im-

peril an election for the sake of an idea,
such as civil service reform or govern-
mental control of corporations, would
seem to them bad strategy. Mr. Roose-
velt has always been an advocate of
principles, not primarily to get elected
to office, but because he believed in
them; and he has asked the people for
their votes to advance his ideas and not
to advance himself.

NOTE AND COMMENT

223

An old precept of practical politics
counsels the man who would win his
case before the people to address their
prejudices and ply them with humbug.
This Roosevelt has never done. He
has appealed to the popular imagination,
to its love of originality and courage,
and he has never despised the tactics of
the careful campaigner; but always and
chiefly his speeches have been argumen-
tative. Shorn of rhetoric, they have
addressed the reason always, passion
and prejudice never. He has written
nothing and said nothing which seeks
an advantage by exciting local jealousy,
sectional rivalry or class hatred. The
good he has advocated has been the
good of all. He has never flattered his
audiences; frequently he has rebuked
and exhorted them. Nevertheless, no
man in this generation has possessed
the confidence of the American people
so amply as Roosevelt. No man has
begun to possess it so amply. He is
believed in absolutely. His mistakes
are admitted; but they are taken for the
mistakes of a man whose fidelity to a
high ideal is beyond all question. It
would be trivial to call him a popular
idol. He is nothing of the sort. He
is a man whom the people believe to
be thoroughly sane, honest and courage-
ous. More than that, they believe he
means to be just.

Mr. Roosevelt's speech at Chautauqua
was a direct appeal to the nation in the
matter of the Santo Domingo question
and the trusts, in the hope that a strong
public opinion may influence the senate.
Other presidents have tried to influence
the senate in other ways — by gifts of
patronage, by trades, by friendship and
enmity. He chooses this way. Nothing
quite like it has been seen in our prac-
tice; and it is typical of a tendency of
these times to abandon indirect methods
in politics and government and let the
people either act directly or determine
the action of their representatives by an
imperative mandate. Carried out logi-

cally this tendency would make legisla-
tures mere clerical agencies for register-
ing the popular will, not only in law-
making but in electing senators. Lin-
coln and Douglas implicitly acknowl-
edged that this ought to be the case by
carrying their contest for the Illinois
senatorship before the people; and since
their day it is openly taught by many,
perhaps by the best, thinkers. The
main objection to it is not theoretical
but practical. Many who admit that
senators ought to be elected by direct
suffrage seem to think it could not be
done without amending the constitution.
Perhaps not in form, but in substance
it could and will when popular interest
in the matter has reached a certain in-
tensity. The constitution commands
legislatures to choose senators no more
explicitly than it commands electoral
colleges to choose the president; but
it would be a bold electoral college that
should presume to obey the conotitution
beyond the mere form of its proceed-
ings. The mandate of the people of
Oregon to their legislature was taken
as an idle matter in choosing a senator;
but if the politicians had believed the
people really cared, they would not have
treated it so lightly. The precedent will
not be forgotten in Oregon. In Wiscon-
sin it has been bettered in a statute
which tries to limit the choice of the
legislature to candidates selected by
popular vote.

The powers which the American
people entrusted to representatives
when our governmental system was
established, they are now with acceler-
ated energy resuming into their own
hands. One state after another, to the
disgust of machine politicians, adopts
wholly or in part the principle of direct
nomination of candidates. The use of
the referendum has become common in
cities; for states, the example of Oregon
and South Dakota is followed hesitat-
ingly; but the tendency is universal and
will sooner or later become irresistible.

224

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

President Roosevelt's speech at Chau-
tauqua may be called, in language some-
what figurative, but not entirely so, a
submission of the questions he discusses
to a national referendum.

But the movement toward popular
control is wider than politics. Saying
nothing of the higher education, which
is now in most states as much a depart-
ment of government as the common
schools, the belief is growing everywhere
that street railways, telegraph lines, the
express business, all natural monopolies
and public utilities should be the prop-
erty of municipalities or the state. And
that, if not operated by public officials,
they should be granted to private com-
panies for short periods only, and upon
terms that would give the people the
greater part of their profits. President
Roosevelt's demand for public control
of the trusts is an illustration of the
tendency in question, which is felt by

many men, who, like him, have no belief
in socialism, but a very strong love of
justice, or, as he puts it, the square
deal.

In fact, to call this movement social-
istic is to ignore the meaning of words.
It is strictly individualistic. It restores
the value of the individual voter in poli-
tics, who had been reduced to a cipher
by machinery and bosses. It aims to
give him in business a fair field for his
ability and energy, with freedom from
insidious attacks by those secret powers
which now, like malignant demons with-
out control, blast the prosperity of men
and cities. Socialism destroys the ini-
tiative of the individual; the movement
toward government ownership or control
of public utilities and monopolies opens
a fair field with no favor, where the
individual may do his best without hin-
drance and reap the just reward of his
industry.

THEOLOGY IN THE NEW METHODIST HYMNAL

(From the Boston Transcript)

IN judging the "New Methodist
Hymnal" from a theological stand-
point, we must remember that it is
a joint hymnal, representing the Metho-
dist Episcopal Church, with its more
than three million members, and the
Methodist Episcopal Church, South,
with more than one and a half millions,
or nearly five millions in all. This
membership is spread over nearly every
country in the world, and is backed by
a vast constituency, as yet uncounted.
Theological advance in such a great and
diverse body must necessarily be slow,
and this advance, as represented in the
hymnology of the church, will likely be
slower than the real advance in thought,
for the reason that hymns are cherished
less for their doctrinal teachings than
from the fact that they excite certain

emotions due to association and experi-
ence. Hence hymns long since doctrin-
ally obsolete may have a strong hold
on the heart.

It is not, therefore, fair to judge the
advance of a church in thought exclu-
sively from the hymns it authorizes,
though this may be something of an
index, and as such, attention is called
to a few points in the book under con-
sideration.

The infallibility of the Bible is still
assumed. Whatever is clearly stated
therein is accepted without question.
Jesus was born in Bethlehem, of a vir-
gin mother, angels making the an-
nouncement to certain shepherds.

Long years ago o'er Bethlehem's hills

Was seen a wondrous thing,
As shepherds watched their sleeping flocks

They heard the angels sing.

NOTE AND COMMENT

225

The anthem rolled among the clouds
When earth was hushed and still

Its notes proclaimed sweet peace on earth,
To all mankind good will.

The old doctrine of vicarious atone-
ment still asserts its sway in

Lord, I believe were sinners more
Than sands upon the ocean shore,
Thou hast for all a ransom paid,
For all a full atonement made.

But the old "total depravity" hymn,

Lord, we are vile, conceived in sin,
And born unholy and unclean ;
Sprung from the man whose guilty fall
Corrupts his race and taints us all,

is left out, whether from lack of space
or change of faith it is impossible to
say. Be that as it may, it is refreshing
to feel that our Methodist brethren are
no longer expected to voice in their
music the revolting sentiment that

Soon as we draw our infant breath
The seeds of sin grow up for death;
Thy law demands a perfect heart,
But we're defiled in every part.

This is a distinct advance by omission,
whether inadvertent or not, but heaven
remains in the same location as ever,
and there are still strong suggestions that
salvation consists mainly in keeping out
of one place and getting into another.
We are still informed that

Our Lord is risen from the dead,
Our Jesus is gone up on high.

which is of course strictly scriptural, and
we are to continue to believe that

Also

My father's house is built on high,
Far, far above the starry sky.

There is a joy for souls distressed,
A balm for every wounded breast:
'Tis found above— in heaven,

and much more to the same effect.

Moreover, this language is not figura-
tive to the majority of those who sing
it, but strictly literal, whatever it may
be to the members of the compilation
commission.

These instances are given not so much
by way of criticism as for the purpose
of showing how difficult it is for a great
church to keep pace in all forms of its
doctrinal expression with the scientific
enlightenment of the day. The advance
in the case under consideration has been
real, but not radical. It is as much,
perhaps, as can be expected by the
present generation, but the next thirty
or forty years will so accustom the great
church laity to new forms of thought
that many of the most popular hymns
of today will become intolerable. The
coming age extends an urgent invitation
to the really great and true hymn writer.

(A personal letter from a distinguished Southern publicist.)

iU Y impression is that you intimated
a wish that I would at some
time prepare for you a paper on
the negro question, and I would
gladly contribute anything that I
could to the solution of a question
which for more than half a century has
vexed this country, but I do not feel
that I have anything to say that would
be helpful.

For a long time I felt that we had
as well shut our eyes to the fact that it
was a problem, and let time, which

solves most questions, work it out, and
I do not feel now that much will be
gained by a discussion of it. Insofar
as concerns the political situation, we
have in this state at least, [South Caro-
lina] found a temporary relief from
anxiety in the adoption of a suffrage
provision in our Constitution, which
eliminates a great mass of ignorant
voters; but as time goes on the negroes
will be taught to read and write suffi-
ciently to qualify them for voting, and
it is to be expected that they will again

226

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

become voters in large numbers. Our
children will have to meet that trouble
when it comes, and I do not allow
myself to be worried about it. The
generation to which I belong has had
trouble enough for the last forty years,
and we ought not to allow ourselves to
anticipate troubles that may come. The
political aptitude of our race has hitherto
sufficed, though with great travail, to
work out a system of government under
which we can now live in fair hope, and
we should not despair of our successors,
though 1 do not shut my eyes to the
fact that they are likely to have trouble.
As the generation of slave owners and
sons of slave owners passes away, it is
to be feared that the racial antagonism
will increase rather than diminish. Para-
doxical as it may seem, there has always
been greater kindliness in this class to-
ward the negro than is to be found in
any other class of white people, more
tolerance for his weaknesses, and a more
genuine appreciation of his good quali-
ties. They know better than any other
his limitations, and the associations of
boyhood doubtless have had some effect,
while all of us realize that the conduct
of the negro during the war, when most
of our white men were absent, should
always be gratefully remembered. The
fierce racial hostility to the negro which
has been manifested in lynchings and
other lawlessness was something un-
known in the old days, and I fear that
the farther we are removed from the
recollections of that period the more
universal will that feeling become.

The economic conditions which make
the negro the rival of the white as a
a laborer has the natural effect of stimu-
lating in the latter a desire to drive him
from the field of competition. The in-
terest of the land owner, the survivors
of the old slave owner, is just as
naturally opposed to this effort to drive
from his fields a class of labor which,
though inefficient, has proved up to this
time to be the best available, and his

influence, so far as it goes, is on the
side of the negro, and generally secures
for him some measure of protection in
his natural rights to the fruits of his toil.

But I would say generally that this
influence tends to diminish rather than
increase, and the result to be expected
will be that the negro will gradually be
crowded out of those regions where
white labor can be made profitable, and
in the course of time the negro as a
mass must find his home in those
regions where climatic conditions are
unfavorable to the white race. The
swamps land of our coast and the Mis-
sissippi valley will probably be his habi-
tat, and ultimately, perhaps, Central
America. So long as he is with us the
better sentiment and the more intelligent
sentiment is alive to the need of protect-
ing him in his natural rights, but it will
require constant effort to accomplish
this in the face of the fierce racial preju-
dice which prevails among the less en-
lightened.

Our race has never tolerated equality
with the African, and there are no signs
of any yielding on that point.- The
attempt to force it unites the white
people as one man, and the negro is
destined to suffer from any such at-
tempts. It would extend this letter too
much to attempt to explain the reasons
which lead me to the conclusion that all
effort from the outside to stimulate in
the negro a desire for equality with the
white is likely to be unsuccessful and
injurious. It may be that if left to itself
the South will not do all that it ought,
and we have no right to resent any proper
criticism of our shortcomings, and should
not repel any genuine effort to help us
in troubles not altogether of our own
making; still I am satisfied that we had
better be left alone, perhaps to stew in
our own juice, for the most genuine
attempt to help the negro, if not in-
formed with knowledge which no one
not on the soil can have, is more
likely to do him harm than good.

HOW THE SILVER DOLLARS WERE RECEIVED

THE second chapter of "How the Silver
Dollars were Received" is herewith
•presented. Those who received the
awards tell their own story. It is inter-
esting to notice that the second five are
all women. The heights of the first ten
award winners are as follows: Lena
Baum, 5 ft. 5 in., Mrs. Gage, 5 ft. 4 in.,'
J. W. C. Pickering, 5 ft. 5% in., Mary
Masloh, 5 ft. 5% in., E. F. Fisher, 5 ft.
5)4 in., T. J. Bissell, 5 ft. 8*4 in., Miss
Susan Dickinson, 4 ft. 10 in., Mrs. N. E.
Taylor, 5 ft. 6 in., H. M. Riseley, 5 ft.
3 1-32 in., Mrs. Geo. W. Wait, 5 ft.
3 »9-32 in-

LENA BAUM, GALENA, KANSAS

"Mr. Joe Mitchell Chappie, Boston.

"Dear Sir: I presume you received
my despatch informing you of the receipt
of the money, but as telegrams are but
poor means of acknowledging apprecia-
tion, I take this method of thanking you
and telling you how delighted I was.

"It is hard to express my feelings
when I received your telegram, for,
truth to tell, I was so stunned I
couldn't think, but my first impulse

was to run home and tell my home folks.
When I got my thoughts together, I de-
cided that when the money did come I
would devote part of it to charitable pur-
poses, which I have done, and I have
had great pleasure in sharing my good
fortune with others.

"I am sending a photograph, as you
request, and as for biographical sketch,
there is little to say. 1 am a truly west-
ern product, having been born and
reared in the West, iny father having
settled here in 1877. We are conse-
quently well known, and the fact of my
having received such a sum of money
from the National has created a gieat
amount of excitement and interest in
your magazine, for, as so many remaik,
'You sometimes hear of such a piece of
good luck, but you never happen to
know anyone to whom it occurs.'

"I have always been an inveterate
reader, and am proud of such distin-
guished judgment on my selection for
the contribution. I look forward with
pleasure to the coming of my National
each month, it is so 'chatty' and per-
sonal and has such a neighborly tone;
one feels that one lives next door to Jce
Chappie and has known him always.

"Thanking you again, I am very glad
to be — One of your most sincere friends,

"Lena Baton."
J*

Mrs. Taylor had left Oklahoma for the
empire state, and was in South Texas;
but the silver dollars found her just the
same, and she gives the following inter-
esting account.

"Temple, Texas, September 14, 1905.
"Mr. Joe Mitchell Chappie,

"Boston, Mass.

"Dear Sir: This morning I received
the result of the Heart Throb contest
in a very substantial form. It is duly
deposited in the First National Bank of
this town. I can well admire your
method of awarding the contestants, for
it took about six different men of the
bank force to handle the coin this morn-
ing, and of course each and eVery one
had to know why the money was sent
in that way. Oh, we had a gala time
of it! I should like to give y.ou the full
details, but let it suffice to say that the
cashier gave me back the bag which had

HOW THE SILVER DOLLARS WERE RECEIVED

carried the money, saying that I should
keep that as a souvenir. As I tucked
it under my arm I said, 'That kind of

MRS. N. E. TAYLOR, PERRY, OKLAHOMA

a bag is a vast improvement on the
'old stocking'; then I flew, and you may
imagine what followed my exit. Being
as completely cosmopolitan as I know
you are, it may please you to learn that
this is the first time in my life that I
ever had a bank account that I did not
work for. I simply and sincerely thank
you and the judges of the contest.

"I was born at Mt. Sterling, Illinois,
December 25, 1868. This was my home
until 1888, when the family removed to
western Iowa. In 1890, at Fontanelle,
Iowa, I was married to Mr. N. E. Tay-
ler. In 1893 we, like many others,
joined the long line of pioneers in the
race for homes in the Cherokee strip.
We took up a farm near Perry. Ten
years of prairie farming and cattle rais-
ing being quite satisfactory to all con-
cerned, we left the farm, and for the
present reside in Temple, Texas. My
chief pleasure in life, aside from my
family and friends, lies in books, pic-
tures and nature.

"Here in Texas, the mail carrier de-

livers the mail while riding in a buggy
or on horseback. He never gets farther
than the curb, if he can blow his whistle
long and loud enough to call us to get
it there. The afternoon I received your
letter being very warm, I waited indoors
for him to bring it to me, excusing
myself with the thought that Uncle Sam
pays him for the work and not me; but
when I read the contents of your letter,
my thought was: 'Well, I would gladly
have gone out in the sun after this, had
I known what it contained.'

"The National Magazine is very much
to my liking, and I certainly think it
belongs to the peerage. As an adver-
tiser, Mr. Chappie, I think you are
simply unique. Hoping for many bright
blessings in the future for you and
yours, and wishing you all the success
you anticipate, I am

"Yours sincerely,

"Afrs. N. E. Taylor."

Next, and least in height, comes the
formal acknowledgement of Miss Dick-
inson of the receipt of her 555 dollars,
with her hearty good wishes.

"Scranton, Pa., Sept., 9, 1905.
"Mr. Joe Mitchell Chappie,

"Boston, Mass.

"Dear Sir: Enclosed find photograph.
Please accept also my sincerest thanks

SUSAN E. DICKINSON. SCRANTON PA

HOW THE SILVER DOLLARS WERE RECEIVED

for the silver — #555 — received on Thurs-
day as my share of the prize winning
in your Heart Throb contest. May you
and also your magazine live long and
prosper according to your heart's desire.
"Sincerely,
"Susan E. TXckinson."

Miss Mary Masloh, of Lakewood,
Ohio, sends an interesting description of

He was kind and cheerful and never
complained. My mother was very quiet;
we could not romp with her. One day
a little baby girl came to our house, and
I was beside myself with joy, but the
following day people acted so strangely
that I was terrified and went to sit with
my two little sisters in a corner behind
the kitchen stove. Presently a good
woman came in, took me into the front
room and lifted me up and let me see
my mother. That was the last time I

MARY MASLOH, (STANDING) LAKEWOOD, OHIO

her career, and it is gratifying to know
that the money she has received will be
of so much use to her. If all those who
received the silver dollars have had as
much pleasure in their receipt as we had
in sending them out, the balance is even.

"Dear Mr. Chappie: I send you here-
with a brief account of my life: I was
born in Moscow, Russia. When I was
six months old my parents brought me
to America. My father was employed
in a factory on piece work and was able
to earn from three to four dollars a week.

saw her. Then this woman wrapped
a shawl around my baby sister and
walked away with her. After a few
days I got homesick to see my mother
and the baby, so I started down town
to search for them. I found the house.
The baby was still crying, so I asked for
my mother, when the good woman told
me she had gone to heaven and would
not return. The following day some
children in the street told me that my
baby sister had died. My mother's
death was too much for my father; he
too became ill. Then the good woman
above mentioned again came to our

HOW THE SILVER DOLLARS WERE RECEIVED

house and took my brother, two little
sisters and myself away to St. Francis
Orphanage at Tiffin. Here I lived a
happy life until I was fifteen years old,
when I was sent to Cleveland to work
for a lady who lived alone in a beautiful
house. This lady took an interest in
me and taught me constantly. When

rich man, but received no answer. The
next thing I did was to send a clipping
to the National Magazine, and now,
thanks to Mr. Joe Mitchell Chappie, the
boys at the orphanage are going to have
felt top boots and plenty Of books this
coming Winter. Very respectfully,

"Mary Maslob"

MRS. GEORGE W. WAIT, SANDY HILL, NEW YORK. — A SKETCH OF H£R LIFE

the housework was done I took up my
studies. In June, 1904, I graduated
from the Young Women's Christian
Association. Everybody was kind to
me and I was happy, but for a longing
to attain a higher education in order
that I might be able to help my younger
brother and sisters.

"About this time I heard that the
boys at the orphanage wanted felt top
boots for the Winter, and some books.
I had not the means to buy these things,
so I appealed for help to a well known

Mrs. Elizabeth Wait sent a very dainty
sketch of her career in pencil and ink
drawings, which tells the story of her
life and how she has enjoyed it.

"Sandy Hill, New York.
"Mr. Joe Mitchell Chappie,

"Boston, Mass.

"Dear Sir: I want to thank you for
the stack of silver dollars which I re-
ceived Saturday. It was a very great
surprise when I received the telegram

HOW THE SILVER DOLLARS WERE RECEIVED

and it was several hours before I could
think what it all meant. You certainly
are people of your word. I am sending
under separate cover a photo and sketch
of my life. Thanking you again for the
silver, I am very respectfully,

"Elizabeth fM. Wait?
Jl

I know the readers of the National
will all be rather proud of those who
were awarded prizes, and agree that the
judges were worthy of commendation
for the care which they took in regard to
all the decisions. And now the curtain
has fallen upon the Heart Throb Contest.

What next? Well, first you ought to
see that you have the book, containing
these rare selections. Present yourself
with one for Christmas, and then give as
many other copies to your friends as you
can afford. Remember this is not only
a book containing the "heart throb"
selections awarded prizes,' with the names
of the contributors, but also a number
of beautiful pieces sent in but which
were not on the list of awards, there not
being enough prizes even in the $10,000
dollars or 840 prizes in all to make a
prize award for them all. These are all
combined to form a handsome book of
favorite selections in prose and verse of
the whole people — in it there is also

space for the accumulation of the "heart
throbs" you meet with from time to time.
A few pages will be left blank so that

"JUST THE BOOK FOR A CHRISTMAS GIFT"

you may write in these gems, or paste
them in at your convenience, and when
the book is filled you will have a unique
and rare collection that will be a per-
sonal treasure which will be highly valued
by you and your friends as the years
come and go.

Do not delay. Be one of the fortunate ones to secure a First Edition Copy of this
most attractive book of the season. You will value it above all others. Books will be
sent out first to those who return to us the following coupon with signature and address.

MR. JOE CHAPPLE,

NATIONAL MAGAZINE,

BOSTON, MASS.

Please send me one volume of "HEART THROBS" bound in cloth
and gilt with illuminated cover, for which I agree to pay $1.50 on receipt
of book.

Name,.

Street,

City or Town,
State,..

THE BLACK HILLS

By W. C. JENKINS

IN eastern Wyoming and western South other minerals are found in more or less
Dakota, lying on both sides of the paying commercial quantities. In fact
boundary line of these states, egg shaped,
with a general north and south trend,
covering an area approximately of 100
miles in length and fifty miles in breadth,
rising abruptly from the surface of the
surrounding prairies to an altitude of
from 3,000 to 7,200 feet, are the Black
Hills, so named by the early pioneers
because of the dark foliage of the heavy
pine forests covering the mountains.
This section of the country where nature
has been more than generous is reached
in thirty hours from Chicago, twenty-
three hours from Omaha, eighteen hours
from Denver and thirty hours from
Minneapolis and St. Paul.

DEADWOOD, SOUTH DAKOTA

Volcanic in origin, the Black Hills
present much that is of interest to the
students of geology. On every hand are
found evidences of a vast convulsion of
nature. The hills contain no continuous
range, nor are they identified with any
other range. The highest elevation is
Harney's Peak, 7,216 feet above the sea
level. The rock formations represent
ten geologic ages. Gold, silver, copper,
iron, tin, lead, graphite, asbestos, spo-
dumene, mica, wolframite, gypsum,
chalk, Fuller's earth, corundum, litho-
'graph stone, kaolin, manganese, mineral

scientists claim that but two universal
organic elements are lacking. In the
future many of these mineral values will
be returned as by-products through im-
proved methods of extraction. In the
Black Hills are found the vertical ore,
Archean, and the blanket or Cambrian
ore formations. In some instances the
ore in the latter lies immediately on the
surface, in others a few feet below the
grass roots and in still other instances
it is found at a considerable depth.
Gold is the largest single contribution
to the mineral wealth of the Black Hills.
From present indications the deposits in
the Hill City and Bear Gulch regions
bid fair to give tin
second place, at no
far distant date.

With mention of
the Black Hills
comes the thought of
gold, and rightly so
for its gold mining
district is the third
greatest producing
district on this con-
tinent and has been
well described as the
richest 100 miles
square on the face of
the globe. Gold was
discovered July 27,
1874, at a point
about one mile east
of the present city
of Custer by H. N.
Ross and W. T. Me
Kay, who were
scouts with Gen-
eral Custer's expedition. Today there
are more than 200 mining companies
operating in the Hills, employing
over 12,000 men in the mines and allied
industries. The annual output of the
mines and other industries exceeds $25,-
000,000. From an output of $1,200,000
in 1876, the production of gold has
steadily increased to a total output up
to January, 1905, of $133,798,257.

While a part of the gold ores in the
Black Hills are what is known as "high
grade"' and some of them very rich, a
large proportion of the ores are low

paint, the finest of marble and many grade, i. e., of less value than twelve dol-

THE BLACK HILLS

lars per ton, and ranging downward from
this figure to two dollars and a half per
ton, and even less. Until some six years

FORT MEADE AND BEAR BUTTE

ago any ore carrying less than fifteen
dollars per ton, unless free milling, could
not be handled at a profit. Since the
development of the cyanide process for
the treatment of gold ores, material which
will yield two dollars and a half per
ton can. under favorable conditions, be
mined and milled at a profit, while ores
averaging eight dollars per ton return
a handsome dividend to the owners.

The advance in metallurgy during
recent years has amounted to a revolu-
tion in the treatment of gold and silver
ores. Metals that twenty years ago could
only have been produced from ores at
a great loss can now be produced at
a handsome profit. The ore treated by
the Homestake last year averaged three
dollars and seventy-two cents per ton.

People not familiar with the condi-
tions in the Black Hills are indeed sur-
prised to learn that the Homestake is
the greatest dividend paying gold mine
in the world, and that it not only pays
out hundreds of thousands of dollars to
stockholders each year, but also supports
a city of 10,000 people.

In 1876 the Homestake deposits were
discovered by Moses and Frederick
Manuel. Other claims which are now
included in the Homestake properties
were discovered in the same year, but
the work during that year was mainly
that of the prospector. At the surface
was discovered a great extent of iron
stained rock, which carried gold running
as much as sixteen dollars perton. Pub-
lic expectation had been so excited in
regard to these properties that four of

the claims sold within the year at prices
varying from $30,000 to $165,000. In
1877 prominent mining investors, among

whom were
J. W. Gash-
wiler, Geo.
Hearst, J.
B. Haggin
and Lloyd
Tevis, ap-
peared up-
on thescene
and as a re-
sult four
large gold
mining cor-
porati ons
were organ-
ized. Three,
the Home-
stake, the
Father De

Smet and the Highland had been incor-
porated in California, and one, the
Deadwood Terra Company in New York.
Not long after these mines were opened
it was found advisable to work them
under a single management and as time
went on the Homestake Company came
either into control or in actual posses-
sion of the other claims and the name,
"Homestake" has been applied to the
whole belt of these properties which now
includes more than 2,600 acres.

Could the space allotted to an article
of this character permit, the history of
the Homestake mine would prove a very
interesting one. It would describe the
development of very low grade bodies of
ore in the face of great natural obstacles
and with a margin of profit necessarily
so small that a very slight error might
turn it into loss; yet the company has
been so uniformly successful that at no
time has it been necessary to suspend
the regular monthly dividend to the
stockholders.

Samuel McMaster had the man-
agement of the mine until his death in
1884, and from that time until the pres-
ent T. J. Grier has been in active
charge. The excellent showing which
is being made by the Homestake mine
at the present time is due principally to
two men. First, the superintendent, T.
J. Grier, a man of exceptional executive
ability who possesses a wonderful knowl-
edge of human nature; second, the
young cyanide expert, Mr. C. W. Mer-
rill, who has successfully solved for the
whole world the problem of the treatment

THE BLACK HILLS

of low grade silicious ores, and in the
slimes plant now in the course of erec-
tion by the Homestake company has
made the final step in the recovery of
values contained in these ores.

There is probably no institution in the
world that is run in a more methodical
manner than is the Homestake mine.
Brains alone counts in the selection of
superintendents and foremen in the
various departments. The recommenda-
tion of influential men counts for but
little. Merit alone will entitle men to
positions of trust and responsibility.
The college graduate is placed at the
same starting point as the young man
who has just left the farm. There are
men in the Homestake mine earning ten
dollars a day, but they are practical
miners whose knowledge has not been
obtained in a theoretical manner, but in
the practical school of experience. Of
the 3,000
employes of
the Home-
stake mine,
there are
none of an
undesirable
character.

Once in a
while an ag-
it'ator or a
disorgani-
zer works
his way into
the mines,
but his pre-
sen ce is
soon dis-
covered.
Only sober
men are
employed
and this ne-
cessity is apparent when it is under-
stood that a large amount of nitro-
glycerine and other explosives are in
constant use and must be handled by
men who are wide awake and in a con-
dition of mind to attend strictly to their
work.

The men are taught mining according
to the Homestake methods. What sys-
tems are adopted in other mines are of
little consequence to the management of
this great corporation. They have their
own plans, and they are successful ones,
and Homestake miners can obtain em-
ployment in any mine in the world.
During the twenty-seven years which

the Homestake mine has been in opera-
tion, the company has never had a strike.
The mine is what is known as an "open
shop." The miners receive three, three
and a half and four dollars for a ten
hours working day. In some parts of
Colorado miners are paid higher wages,
but the Homestake employes are con-
tented and not seeking a change. It is
difficult to explain the continued con-
tentment that prevails among the 3,000
Homestake miners. The only logical
conclusion that can be reached is that
this condition is the result of kindly
treatment on the part of the management
of the company. One of the miners
recently stated that the reason for this
period of continued contentment among
the miners is because, hunt for a griev-
ance as you may, you can find none, for
if ever there was a living example of the
golden rule, you will find it in the deal-

BATTLE MOUNTAIN SANITARIUM, HOT SPRINGS, SOUTH DAKOTA

ings of the Homestake Mining Company
with all who are connected directly or
indirectly with it. It i*s a fact that
T. J. Grier, the superintendent, never
allows any man to hold a grievance.
If anybody fancies he has one, Mr.
Grier listens to it and either explains it
away, or rights it. The humblest miner,
regardless of nationality, can go to the
superintendent and tell his troubles.
Mr. Grier takes him into his own private
office and listens to his complaint with
an interest that is genuine and unas-
sumed.

The Golden Reward mine, in point of
productions, stands second to the Honje-

THE BLACK HILLS

stake. It has produced nearly $20,000,-
ooo since organization. It now pays
twenty cents per annum on each share
of stock. The company owns 3,100
acres of patented land at Ruby Basin
and Gold Mountain, which includes
some of the very best mines of that dis-
trict. At Deadwood is located the com-
pany's cyanide plant of 250 tons capac-
ity. These two mines, the Homestake
and Golden Reward stand out as promi-
nent examples of what can be accom-
plished by conservative mining methods.
. In addition to the Homestake and
Golden Reward the Black Hills possess
the following mines, which are pro-
ducers: Imperial Mining and Milling
Company and the Dakota Mining & Mill-
ing Company, located at Deadwood; the
Spearfish Mining & Reduction Com-

LEAD, SOUTH DAKOTA

pany at Cyanide; the Maitland Mine at
Maitland, the Wasp No. 2, located on
Yellow Creek, and the Gilt-Edge Maid
located at Turner. In addition to these
there is the Lundberg, Dorr & Wilson
plant located at Terry, which is running
successfully and producing a handsome
surplus each month. There are a num-
ber of other mining properties in course
of development which will become pro-
ducers in the near future.

With the mention of Dakota comes
the thought of blizzards and extreme
cold. This is erroneous as far as the
Black Hills are concerned, for there is
no territory where the atmosphere is
more balmy and the sunshine more plen-

tiful than in this region from May until
January. The early months of each year
are more or less cold and damp, but not
to the extent that prevails in the northern
states. Nowhere in the United States
is to be found a happier combination of
climate, scenery and opportunity; and to
the lover of outdoor sports such as fish-
ing, hunting and camping, the Black
Hills are unexcelled.

To a student of nature, the Black
Hills possess a thousand charms.
Nothing can excel the grandeur and
sublimity of a view from the many
mountain peaks. Hills rise above hills,
while a rich diversity of woods arranged
by nature in picturesque beauty, extends
as far as the eye can see. The future
of this wonderful region is past the com-
prehension of the ordinary man. Its
possibilites are* so
vast that one must
view them at long
range in order to
understand them.
The day of the pros-
pector and the small
miner is almost at an
end. Just as in other
commercial lines we
see large combina-
tions of capital, so
we find them in the
consolidation of in-
terests in the Black
Hills for the purpose
of operating the
mines on a large
scale. This section
contains a great mass
of low grade ore. It
resolves itself into a
manufacturing prop-
osition, the convert-
ing of ore into bullion. The great
Homestake company has been built
up as a result of the consolidation
of several distinct properties. Its suc-
cess is due to the economy of operation,
and this is the real object of our great
commercial combinations of today. By
the application of like methods and the
combination in a number of groups of the
200 independent mines of the Black
Hills, we will have in the future several
mining companies rivaling the Home-
stake in commercial importance.

Surrounding this storehouse of nature's
wealth, we find even greater resources.
The two great trunk lines now under
construction across southern Dakota will

THE BLACK HILLS

transform the great cattle ranges lying
between the Black Hills and the Miss-
ouri river into thousands of small farms.
History repeats itself; the prairies of
South Dakota will experience the same
change as did the prairies of Nebraska,
Iowa and Illinois. To the north of the
Hills we see the government irrigation
project under way. The importance of
this great enterprise can hardly be over-
estimated, as it will open up a large
area of land for farms directly tributary
to the Black Hills. Beyond this land are
the vast cattle and sheep ranges. Begin-
ning at Alladin, at a point within thirty
miles of Deadwood and Lead, and ex-
tending to the South almost to Edge-
mont and westward beyond Sheridan,
Wyoming, we find immense beds of
coal. Eight hundred thousand tons of
this" coal were consumed in the mining
regions of the Black Hills alone last
year. To the northwest, at a point
within thirty miles of the Black Hills,
there are vast oil fields which extend in
a southwesterly direction, across the state
of Wyoming. This is the finest quality
of lubricating oil to the found in
America. When these resources which
surround the Black Hills are understood
and developed, the traveler will look
upon this region as one of the most pros-
perous in the civilized world. As an
evidence of the change and improvement
in the methods and of the confidence in-
vestors have in the future of the Black
Hills we see the erection at a cost
of $1,000,000, a power plant at Pluma,
halfway between Lead and Deadwood,
in which one of the largest electrical
goods manufacturing companies in the
country is heavily interested. This new
undertaking will light the cities of Lead
and Deadwood with electricity and will
furnish power to operate the mines and
mills of the Black Hills.

Deadwood, the commercial center of
the Black Hills, has passed through its
mining camp reputation and has emerged
into one of the most beautiful little cities
in the West. Indeed it would be diffi-
cult to find a city of 6,000 population
that presents a more metropolitan ap-
pearance. Its business blocks, banks,
hotels and residences would do credit
to any city in the country.- Deadwood
is situated at the confluence of two
prominent gulches at an altitude of 4,445
feet, and is reached by two railroads,
the Chicago & Northwestern and the

THE BLACK HILLS

Chicago, Burlington £ Quincy. Not-
withstanding the fact that millions of
dollars have been made and spent in
this immediate neighborhood, during
recent years Deadwood has never experi-
enced a mushroom growth. Its progress
has been steady and substantial and its
future is full of promise. Its climate is
healthful and invigorating and its death
rate is remarkably low. Deadwood of
today is a city of churches and all the
leading denominations are represented
and presided over by a talented ministry.
The city is also well represented in the
way of secret societies and benevolent
orders. The Masonic order owns a sub-
stantial and spacious brick temple cost-
ing $55,000. The public school build-
ings reflect great credit upon the citi-
zens. They are substantially built and
are presided over by a corps of excellent
teachers.

Deadwood is the distributing point for
this entire section of the country. It
has wholesale hardware, grocery, drug
and fruit houses which are owned by
men of large means and who are taking
a great interest in the advancement of
the city. Here is located the United
States assay office, and to Deadwood
come the operators and prospectors of
the Black Hills with their gold and
silver bullion to exchange them for
money. The new federal building now
in course of construction will cost $250,-
ooo. A library building, the gift of
Andrew Carnegie, has just been com-
pleted at a cost of $15,000. Work on
a $.75,000 court house for Lawrence
county has just begun, and one of the
handsomest opera houses in the West,
which will cost $60,000, is now being
built. In addition to its natural advan-
tages for drainage, the city has an excel-
lent sewer system. It has a splendid
water works plant, which furnishes the
people the purest of mountain water.
The banks of Deadwood are among the
soundest and most reliable in the coun-
try. The First National, the oldest in
the city, has a capital of $150,000 and
a surplus and profits of $125,000. N. E.
Franklin is president and D. A. Mc-
Pherson cashier.

The Black Hills Trust and Savings
bank has a capital of $100,000 and a
surplus of $25,000 and possesses one of
the finest bank buildings in the West.
The city has splendid interurban systems
running between Deadwood and Lead.
Cars run every half hour on the two

lines. The Chicago & Northwestern
railroad operates the steam road, and
the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy the
electric system. The Deadwood Busi-
ness Club is composed of the leading
business and professional men of the
city and has magnificent club rooms in
which are kept on exhibition samples of
the leading minerals to be found in the
Black Hills. The two principal hotels
are the Franklin and the Gilmore. The
Franklin is an architectural gem. It
cost $150,000 and would be creditable
to a city several times as large.

Lead (pronounced Leed) is a city of
about 10,000 inhabitants and is the most
important mining city in the Black
Hills. It is situated three miles south-
west of Deadwood and connected with
that city by two interurban lines. Two
railroads enter the city, the Chicago &
Northwestern and the Chicago, Burling-
ton & Quincy. In Lead is located the
Homestake mine, the largest low grade
gold mine in the world. It has more
than a thousand stamps which never
stop dropping. The city has two banks,
the First National and the Miners' and
Merchants' Savings bank. Both of these
institutions have as officers and direc-
tors, men of large means and experi-
ence in the banking business, and these
banks are considered among the sound-
est financial institutions in the country.
Lead has a full complement of churches,
all the leading religious denominations
being represented. In this city reside
3,000 miners, many of whom own their
homes. A more frugal class would be
difficult to find. Some of these men
who have been working in the mines for
several years have on deposit in the
local banks, as much as $10,000.

Lead has brick paved streets, and
some of the business blocks would do
credit to any city in the country. The
city is very orderly and is free from that
feature of rowdyism and immorality that
generally characterizes mining communi-
ties. Mrs. Phoebe A. Hearst takes a
great interest in the city and maintains,
at her own expense, a kindergarten
school and a free public library. The
sewer and water systems are perfect, and
the gas and electric light plants are up-
to-date in every respect.

The little city of Belle Fourche is at
present time attracting a great deal of
attention on account of the government
irrigation project, work on which has

THE BLACK HILLS

been started within a few miles from that
city. The magnitude of this undertaking
may be understood when it is stated that
the government will expend $2,500,000
in the construction of the reservoir and
the immense ditch. In order to justify
the expenditure of so large a sum, it
became necessary to segregate the gov-
ernment land within the area of irriga-
tion and to withdraw it from public set-
tlement. This was done in order to
compel persons thereafter locating upon
said land to subject themselves to the
rights and liabilities of water users. It
was found there was not sufficient gov-

the tame grasses. The sugar beet where
it has been experimented with has done
magnificently. The waier for the irriga-
tion of the 100,000 acres of land is
ample. The Belle Fourche river and
several creeks will be converted into an
immense storage reservoir, which alone
will cost in the neighborhood of a mill-
ion dollars. Its length will be one mile
and a third and it will be 125 feet high.
This dam will back a body of water thir-
teen miles long and seven miles wide,
thus making an immense lake which can
be used for sailing and fishing.

Belle Fourche, with its 1,250 inhabi-

SYLVAN LAKE, IN THE BLACK HILLS

ernment land in the area to justify the
undertaking, and opportunity was given
the private owners to subscribe for water.
A sufficient number was readily obtained
and work on the immense reservoir and
ditch is proceeding rapidly. The con-
struction work will occupy three years,
and when the undertaking is completed
the project will reclaim 100,000 acres of
land. These lands are suitable for
alfalfa, wheat, oats, barley, potatoes,
vegetables of all kinds and nearly all

tants is one of the most progressive and
up-to-date cities in South Dakota. The
cattle shipments from Belle Fourche are
3.000 cars per year, and the annual wool
clip is in the "neighborhood of a million
pounds.

One of the most charming agricultural
localities in the United States is the
Spearfish valley, with the little city of
Spearfish as its business center. The
valley is wonderfully fertile and is be-
coming famous for its fruits and cereals.

THE BLACK HILLS

The city of Spearfish has about 1,000
inhabitants and is located at the mouth
of the wonderful Spearfish Canyon,
which is an object of admiration to
every tourist who visits the Black Hills.

The picturesque little city of Hot
Springs is located in the southern part
of the Black Hills and is famous as one
of the greatest health resorts in the
United States. The government has
accepted this belief and has selected
Hot Springs for the location of its
national sanitarium for soldiers. The
climate is invigorating the year around,
and the springs contain medicinal prop-
erties that have proved of untold value to
suffering humanity. The crty has excel-
lent hotels and up-to-date streets. It is
an ideal health resort and is visited by
thousands of people each year.

Rapid City is a busy little city which
has a population of about 2,000 and lies
on Rapid creek, a fine stream with ample
water power for manufacturing. The
city is lighted by gas and electricity and
has many resources. Farming and fruit
raising are successfully carried on, while
to the east are the large cattle ranges
that have made South Dakota noted for
its cowboys. Here are located the State
School of Mines and the government
Indian school. The future of Rapid
City is indeed bright, as there are now
under construction the extension of the
Chicago & Northwestern railroad from
Pierre to Rapid City, and- the Chicago,
Milwaukee & St. Paul from Chamberlain
to Rapid City. The Missouri River &
Northwestern railway will, when com-
pleted, connect Rapid City with the
Chicago, Burlington & Quincy railroad
on the west at Mystic. This will result
in the magnificent range territory be-
tween Pierre and Rapid City being cut
into small farms.

The city of Sturgis is located between
the city of Deadwood and Rapid City
on the Chicago & Northwestern railway,
and is one of the prettiest little towns in
the state. It has a population of about
1,300. The city has one of the finest
water works systems in the country. In
the mountains, nearly four miles south
of the city, three reservoirs have been
made by darning the canyon. It has a
fall of 120 feet from the reservoirs to the
city. It is expected that the water

works will in time furnish water for the
manufacturing plant and a trolley line to
Fort Meade, as well as furnishing Fort
Meade with water.

While wheat is the leading cereal of
the farming community, the shipments
of wool and cattle are very large. Fort
Meade, the government post, is located
about a. mile and a half from Sturgis.
The post has eight cavalry troops, con-
sisting of over 500 men, and a band.
St. Mary's Academy, with about 250
students is located here. The institu-
tion has been established about fifteen
years.

About four miles from Lead and seven
from Deadwood is the mining town of
Terry. This town is the highest in alti-
tude in the mining towns in the northern
Hills, being 5,500 feet above the level
of the sea. Here is located the Golden
Reward mine, the second richest mine
in the Black Hills in the point of gold
production. The population of Terry is
about 1,200 souls. Terry's Peak, with
an altitude of 7,069 feet, is located a
short distance from the city. This is
the highest point in the northern hills
and from which an excellent view of the
surrounding country may be obtained.

The pretty little city of Custer, located
in the southern hills, was named after
General Custer, and was the early home
of the mining men who came to the
Black Hills. It is stated that at one
time the town possessed a population of
1,300, but upon the discovery of gold in
Deadwood Gulch, the place was nearly
depopulated, only fourteen persons re-
maining in the former hustling camp.
Since that time it has grown by degrees,
until at the present time it has about
1,000 inhabitants. Sylvan Lake, one of
the most picturesque spots in the United
States, is only six miles distant and is
visited each year by many tourists. The
city has two banks and a full comple-
ment of churches.

Practically in the center of the Black
Hills is located Hill City, at an altitude
of 4,982 feet. It was originally a placer
mining camp, but in the rush to Dead-
wood in the early days, Hill City was
practically deserted. At the present
time it has a population of about 600.
The surrounding ranches of farming and
cattle industries make considerable busi-
ness for Hill City.

CROSS REAL ESTATE: Greatest Business in the World

IN a room on the ninth floor of the

Tacoma Building in Chicago, I met
a young man who has created an inno-
vation in business life in America.
Frank and enthusiastic, in a very few
words, he unfolded one of the most
fascinating phases of modern business
education. This is instruction in the
real estate business. No arguments are
needed to prove the need for the great
business educational movement which
has been inaugurated by H. W. Cross
& Company. The whole course is so
simple that it can be used not only by
one following the real estate business
exclusively, but by anybody who expects
to own land or operate in this line.
What has heretofore appeared as mere
vagrant values fit into pyramids of truth
as exact and symmetrical as any con-
ceived in geometrical formation.

I saw some of the graduates of the
Cross school who declared that this sys-
tem of instruction had almost compelled
them to succeed in business and to make
money.

As originators of the movement to
teach real estate business, this firm
occupies a preeminent position in his
line; they started out by giving refer-
ences that would be prized and appre-
ciated by any business man. These
references range from Dunn's and Brad-
street's to a certificate signed by Mayor
E. F. Dunne of Chicago.

The course commences with the study
of general conditions, the basic princi-
ples, and then comes the important ques-
tion of locating an office. A set of ques-
tion blanks is sent out with each lesson,
which furnishes a complete resume and
digest for the student in connection with
the instructions he has had, for asking
the right kind of questions soon develops
and proves the metal of the student and
the student is encouraged to ask ques-
tions in return. All lessons are care-
fully prepared under the direct super-
vision of Mr. Harry W. Cross. On

entering upon the second lesson the
pupil knows the difference between real
estate and personal property, as well as
such matters as real actions, personal
actions, ejectments, writs of entry,
mixed actions, executors, administrators
and various definitions of land. He
also learns what is meant by landed
property, land laws, landlord and other
common estate phrases, such as chatties,
freehold, estates in fee simple, fee-tail
estates, a grant, an estate in dower, an
estate at will, an estate in sufferance, or
one in severally, or in position, etc.
The student will soon be familiar with
forms for getting out circular letters, and
will soon be able to furnish suggestions
as to how to advertise property for sale.
He will receive hints as to exchanging,
handling and leasing property and how
to place signs on land which is for sale.
He will understand how to show prop-
erty and to be able to regulate his com-
mission for negotiating land.

All these are details that usually can
only be acquired in a lifetime of experi-
ence, but here they are placed within
the reach of all by the medium of a few
lessons, and at a price within the reach
of every young man in the country.

The processes of getting business,
making sales and securing clients, are
treated in a plain, straightforward man-
ner, as a simple business proposition.
The course of instructions has about it
a colloquial element as of friends chat-
ting together, and somehow, it inspires
an earnestness which will accomplish
almost anything and bring any transac-
tion to a successful issue, whether a
horse trade or a great financial deal.
The pupil, during his course of instruc-
tion is appointed a cooperative agent
and representative of the firm and at
once placed in active work with a large
list of desirable saleable property on his
hands. He becomes, if he so desires,
while carrying on the course of instruc-
tion, a part of this real estate business

CROSS REAL ESTATE: GREATEST BUSINESS IN THE WORLD

conducted on everyday working lines.
It does not require three to five years
to acquire information under Mr. Cross's
system, but instruction which in the
ordinary way would be spread out over
a term of years is perfectly understood
by his pupils in a few months. The in-
spiring note which Mr. Cross strikes
when he looks you square in the eye is
"Have confidence in yourself — believe
in yourself. Make up your mind that
you are going to do things. Thoroughly
master your profession and you will
make a success.

It would not be fair to attempt to give
in detail this unique innovation in busi-
ness education, but if you are interested
write at once to Harry W. Cross, corner
Madison and La Salle streets, Chicago,
and get more detailed information, and
study and carefully consider it. The
booklet entitled "Real Estate: The
Greatest Business in the World" gives
you an excellent idea of what coopera-
tive real estate agents can accomplish
in the scientific handling of property
and in the brokerage business.

The course includes special lectures
for those who desire to take up the gen-
eral brokerage and insurance business,
which is interesting a large proportion
of their students. The firm issues diplo-
mas on graduation which signify that
the student not only is thoroughly com-
petent to represent local property inter-
est, but also his own alumnas. It at
once gives a standing to the beginner,
who is backed by a large and well estab-
lished real estate company. It is the
old process of simply ' 'Pulling together,"
Success in negotiating various exchanges
or sales soon gives the student a reputa-
tion as a progressive, up-to-date real
estate man, a man who is needed wher-
ever property is moving, which includes
pretty nearly the whole of the United
States of America at the present time.
In fact, Harry W. Cross & Company
consider that the success of their own
business operations is commensurate

with and dependent upon the success of
their students. It will be seen that they
certainly have a vital proposition and
provide information about subjects on
which you have been thinking all these
years. Teaching by correspondence is no
longer an experiment — it is a fact which
has developed along with the telephone,
the telegraph and the rural free delivery.
Scholar and teacher come to know almost
as much about each other as in the old
way, while the waste of time and energy
is entirely eliminated, the benefits of in-
struction being much more wisely dif-
fused and with less wear and tear and
loss of time both to instructor and pupil.
In leaving the office of Mr. Cross that
afternoon, as I grasped his hand and
looked into his keen blue eyes and clear
cut face, he seemed to me to be a splen-
did type of the progressive, up-to-date
young American business man. In fact
I felt that if I expected to invest in real
estate, I should want to have just sucn
a store of information as can be easily
obtained by this unique course of study.
This instiution is almost socialistic in
its tendency to help along the greatest
possible number at the least possible
expense. It aids in distributing equit-
ably the "unearned increment" of which
so much has been said and written.
This is the source which is the founda-
tion stone of the wealth of many million-
aries whose experience is daily repeated
on a smaller scale by the real estate
agents throughout the nation. In fact
as a real estate agent, Uncle Sam has
been a signal success, and has been
bounteous in his provision for all citi-
zens who will seize the opportuinty as
it offers. But the opportunity must be
seized when it is passing, for it may
come our way but once. If your taste
lies in the direction of the management
of real estate, do not fail to write to
Harry W. Cross and get hold of the
opportunity he offers for your immediate
consideration. Just write today and tell
him that I told you this.

THE NORTHERN — BILLINGS* NEW £lOO,OOO HOTEL

BILLINGS, MONTANA

By A . Buchanan

THE first question of the homeseeker
who comes to a new country to "look
around" is "What have you got out
here— are there any opportunities for
investment, or can I get a home here
and make a living without spending a
whole lot of money?" To both of these
questions Billings can say "yes," for
this is the land and city of opportunities.

There are plenty of well-to-do people
here and, without an exception, they
have made the bulk of their wealth
in or around Billings. There are still
opportunities left in almost every avenue
of investment or labor. In Yellowstone
county land can be taken up under the
homestead law or be bought at prices
ranging from a few dollars to a hundred
or more an acre. In the Yellowstone
valley are thousands of acres of irrigated
land — the most productive soil from the
standpoint of dollars in this country.
In the foothills and on the plateaus are
thousands of acres of fine range land
where stock can graze the year around,
and on the benches are wheat lands yet
to be improved.

The great Crow Indian reservation,
with its three million and odd acres, is
in Yellowstone county, and next year
the northern third (1,150,000 acres) will
be thrown open to settlers. Beside all
this there is a world of undeveloped
natural wealth awaiting the coming of

the promoter and investor. In the town
there are business opportunities of every
sort for the man of money, brains and
energy.

Billings is a town of over seven thou-
sand population today, and is the
metropolis and trading center of all
eastern Montana and northern Wyo-
ming. It has, beside its large retail
trade, a considerable jobbing business.
The city boasts a '' large modern flouring
mill, a brewery, a creamery, a packing
and cold storage establishment and some
smaller local manufactories. It is now
building a million dollar beet sugar mill
that will be in operation in time for next
year's crop. The city is the center of
a rich agricultural region, a splendid
stock raising section, and is the greatest
primary wool market in the world.

Billings has made an enviable record
within one short year, which briefly
stated is as follows: Its mutton sales
exceeded those of any other town in the
northwest; its wool sales were the great-
est of any town in the world; forty thou-
sand acres of bench lands were re-
claimed by a half million dollar ditch
built by local capital, and the crop just
harvested has been a record breaker;
the city has added three factories to its
list of producers, secured the northwest-
ern headquarters for the United States
reclamation service, from which all the

BILLINGS, MONTANA

irrigation work in this district will be
directed; it will be the base of opera-
tions for the construction of the great
Huntley canal (that is to tap the Yellow-
stone at Billings) and other canal pro-
jects; it has secured the location of the
government land office and registration
bureau for the Crow reservation open-
ing; it has developed a tremendous
water power that will soon be furnishing
cheap power for manufacturing; it has
increased its population twenty per cent,
and its assessable wealth $2,000,000 —
these are some of the things worth
pointing out, but they do not comprise
the entire list.

To the outsider the greatest interest
centers about the opening of the Crow
reservation which may take place next
year; but today homeseekers may obtain
land just about as cheaply from private
individuals and companies as it will be
possible to get the same kind of land
from Uncle Sam one year hence. Unless
one is on the ground it is difficult to
understand this, but it is so. The gov-
ernment will allot these lands by the
lottery system and the homesteader will
pay four dollars an acre for his land and
his share of expense for the construction
of the canals. As a private enterprise
can build these canals for less than the
government will spend, the private
owner can sell at a less price and still
have a handsome profit on his own in-
vestment. That is the condition this
year, but lands are increasing so
steadily that it will not continue much
longer.

But the opening of this great belt of
rich agricultural land that is now occu-
pied by the Crow Indians will give
Billings a tremendous stimulus. The
"strip" is only a few miles east of
Billings and in order that the city may get
a direct benefit from its settlement, the
county' has just voted bonds for the con-
truction of a $40,000 steel bridge over
the Yellowstone at Huntley to turn the
t'.de of trade this way. The appropria-

tion set aside for the construction of the
great canals that will water these lands
amounts to $900,000, every dollar of
which is to be spent on land directly
tributary to Billings.

The one big feature that impresses

A THOUSAND-FOOT FLUME ON BILLINGS CANAL

the eastern farmer who comes* to this
part of the Yellowstone valley is the
immense gains of farming and the many
avenues of profit. At present alfalfa is
the greatest crop because it never fails,
is easily raised and can be marketed
right at the farm. One pioneer farmer
boasts an alfalfa field that has returned
big crops for the past twenty-three years

BILLINGS IN JANUARY

without reseeding. The average is three
crops a year. The farmer makes a con-
tract with sheepmen to feed their flocks
during the hard months of the Winter
and is saved the trouble and risk of
hauling to market. Thousands of sheep

BILLINGS, MONTANA

NEW COURT HOUSE OF YELLOWSTONE COUNTY,
COST $125,000

are Wintered in this way near Billings.
The eastern farmer who imagines that
there is any disadvantage in irrigation
should make a personal visit to one of
these farms. After an experience at .
irrigating he would never abandon the
rain-when-you-want-it method for the
uncertain rainfall. There is never a
crop failure in this valley.

The Yellowstone valley not only leads
as an alfalfa section, but all kinds of
grain, vegetables and small fruits flour-
ish here. In potatoes Billings holds the
world's record, and the sugar beets sur-
pass those of Colorado.

Billings has five railway outlets and
two more are certain to be added in the
near future. This is an immense ad-
vantage in a country where towns are
still far apart and the "freighter" still
flourishes.

The completion of the beet sugar fac-
tory will mark another long step in the
steady advance of Billings. This con-
cern, made up largely of local capital,
will pay out to the farmers alone a sum
approximating three-quarters of a million
dollars annually, will furnish employment
to about two hundred men,, and will
supply beet pulp for the fattening of
thousands of cattle that will necessarily
be shipped from Billings. The history
of these enterprises in Colorado and
Utah demonstrates that no more valu-

able acquisition could be made by a
community.

Billings is, fortunately for its future,
the home of some of the most progres-
sive citizens of the state, and every
encouragement is given to new enter-
prises. This does not mean a nominal
welcome, but takes the form of a sys-
tematic effort to induce men of capital
to build up new industries. It has two
commerical organizations, with the work
so divided that the best results are
attained. Its commercial club was in-
strumental in getting the beet sugar fac-
tory, and is ready to encourage other
projects. The headquarters of the Mon-
tana Business Men's League, the asso-
ciated boards of trade of the state, is
also located here — a graceful compliment
to the push and energy of Billings' busi-
ness men.

The easterner who comes here for the
first time is surprised at the metropoli-
tan appearance and habits of the town.
While the enterprise and activity and
liberality are distinctively western, he
finds the stores modern in every respect,
buildings as handsome as any in an
eastern city of five times the size, hotels
that are luxurious and elegant in their
appointments, churches and schools in
which the city takes a just pride, lodges
in comfortable and richly furnished
headquarters, newspapers and printing
offices notable for their enterprise, two
large telephone lines, a metropolitan fire
department, public buildings palatial
in character, a splendid public library
in its own building (not a Carnegie), an

VIEW IN A MANUFACTURING DISTRICT

BILLINGS, MONTANA

IN THE RESIDENCE DISTRICT OF BILLINGS

extensive water works system, electric
lights, shade trees everywhere, cement
sidewalks the rule and not the excep-
tion, a commodious opera house, hand-
some and modern office buildings, club
rooms that invite leisure, and all the
various institutions that the eastern city
man is used to at home but scarcely
expects to find so far West.

The past Summer has been an exceed-
ingly busy one in Billings. Never before
were there so many buildings under con-
struction — all made necessary by the
actual demands of the situation. At one
time during the Summer there were im-
provements then under way amounting
to half a million dollars — this in a town
that only claims 7,000 population is
something remarkable. There is work
now under construction that will last
until New Years — men can work out
of doors here half the Winter — and will
probably amount to $250,000. The
tremendous stride has shifted the busi-
ness center to new streets. In the old

frontier days a row of shacks on the
street facing the one railroad sufficed.
The sage brush that flanked this track
and faced the street has given way to
a beautiful park, the public library occu-
pies one of these sites, the old shacks
have been replaced by brick and stone
blocks, and now the cross streets are
filling up with even more modern
blocks.

"Billings — 25,000 in 1910" is the
slogan of the Billings Boosters' club, and
to the initiated it looks as though this
prediction would be carried out. This
will mean more new factories, a woollen
mill, tannery and other institutions that
can work up the raw materials that
abound in this section; it will mean the
opening of parks and playgrounds, the
building and operating of an electric
railway, perhaps the establishment of
a university for eastern Montana, and —
well, not impossible — the creation of
a new state with Billings as the capital.

Quien sabe!

ONEIDA COMMUNITY, LIMITED

J. H. NOYES, FOUNDER OF THE COMMUNITY

THERE is a "sterling" sound in the
name "Community" when applied to
silver. I recently made a trip to Ken-
wood, New York, and spent an interest-
ing day at the main office of the Oneida
Community. To be frank, I was at-
tracted there more by a desire to observe
the source of the remarkable successes
which this corporation has made in de-
veloping various manufactures than by
anything else. A history of the Oneida
Community, to be correctly written,
would involve a volume of well digested
historical data, but I was concerned
chiefly with the modern Oneida Com-
munity, which forms one of the most
remarkable business propositions that
exists in the country today, because it
represents a corporation such as can be
found nowhere else.

More than ten years ago some mem-
bers of the younger generation of the
Community returned from college to
begin building upon the splendid foun-
dation which their forbears had left
them. They grappled the problems

before them in a practical way, realiz-
ing, as the older generation had, that
although the Oneida Community had
existed long enough to make its. name
known in the world, it was impossible to
base an association of this kind wholly
on the proceeds of agriculture.

The first manufacture was the "New-
house trap," invented by a member of
the Community for their own use. At
first he was accustomed to hammer these
out single handed, but when it was soon
discovered that these traps were un-
usually powerful in their grip, a de-
mand for them quickly came from the
neighboring farmers. From this nucleus
of the Newhouse trap business the Com-
munity has become the largest manufac-
turers of this kind of goods in the world.
I was amazed to learn that a million
traps are sold every year and the de-
mand still increases as other sections of
our continent are settled. That is to
say, there is more trapping in the East-
ern states, along the rivers and in the
woods, than in the remote sections of
the West, where one might think hunting
and trapping would be more general
occupations. The vanguard of civiliza-
tion comes along, bringing with it a
number of animals from which the bulk
of the trappers' peltry is taken.

But it is not traps only that the Com-
munity manufacture. When they found
that money was to be made by manufac-
turing, they also entered, at the sugges-
tion of another member, into the fruit
packing trade, and this, too, has now
grown into a vast business — the demand
being always in excess of the supply.
In addition to these manufactures, the
making of sewing and embroidery silk,
silver plated ware, steel chains anfl the
various small implements which are used
about a farm soon put the Community
on an independent basis. Those who
saw their exhibit at the Pan American
and St. Louis Expositions will remember

ONEIDA COMMUNITY LIMITED

that the goods were all of the finest
quality and especially well suited to the
purpose for which they were designed.

But the most interesting part in my
opinion was to see the thirty young men
under the leadership of Mr. Noyes, the
general manager, absolutely riveted to-
gether in the common purpose of mak-
ing the best goods to be found in
America, whether sterling silver, steel
traps, or what not. It is a significant
fact that the corporation now employs
over 2,000 outsiders;

The silver works are located at Ni-
agara Falls. The success of the Oneida
Community in the manufacture of plated
wares of all kinds has been unrivalled,
because it represents a value
as absolute as the coinage of
the government mint. The
Community name is stamped
only on the triple plated
goods, and anyone purchas-
ing these may be assured that
they have the very best.

Every woman who has
community silver may feel
assured as to the worth of
her plate. It is unchanging
in its value because it rep-
resents honest workmanship and the
best materials, and how many tables
throughout the world are decorated with
the products of this Community!

Not far down the river from the main
plant is the silk mill, which produces
annually large quantites of sewing and
embroidery silk for New York City and
other American markets. This manu-
facture was begun in a very modest
fashion by the efforts of the early mem-
bers of the Community to earn money
by peddling silk about the country from
door to door. As the trade grew it was
judged advisable to manufacture their
own products so that they might be sure
of having the best quality. Three of the
younger members of the community
were sent to learn the trade, and on
their return this industry was inaugu-

rated, and has been as successful as
every other manufacture undertaken by
the Oneida Community.

From the 800 acres of farm land the
products for their canning business are
raised. This industry commenced with
the packing of 1,000 jars of fruit and
other products.

The youngest commercial enterprise
of the Oneida Community is the steel
chain manufacture. These chains were
• originally made to complete the traps,
but the trade has gradually developed
until now the Oneida chains, with their
adjuncts of snaps., swivels and other
unique devices, are well known to the
hardware trade all over the United

VIEW OF THE HOUSE, KENWOOD, N. Y.

States and Canada. The world has long
ago learned that when any article of
hardware or other manufacture bears
the Community trade mark it means
"made on honor."

I counted it a rare privilege indeed
to meet and talk with the different man-
agers and officers of this corporation,
for they have certainly a clear under-
standing of business conditions, and are
quick to anticipate the needs of a large
proposition and meet the wants of the
nation with an adequate supply. They
are enthusiastic in keeping abreast of
world wide conditions, and earnest in
their love of their work as work. The
bright, cheerful faces I met at Kenwood
were indeed an inspiration.

Kenwood is located some miles from
the city of Oneida, upon a beautiful

ONEIDA COMMUNITY LIMITED

stretch of landscape. The woods and
general surroundings make it a very
attractive and popular spot for picnic
parties and visitors generally. The
present residence of the Community is
a handsome place close to the Ken-
wood station. The "Big House," as it
is called, is replete with associations in
the mind of everyone in any way con-
nected with the Oneida Community, for
they cannot but recall the tiny dwelling
that was the home of the founders of this
movement, nor can the early struggles
of the Community be forgotten. The
older members of the Community still
reside in the home building, and in the
great dining room there is an air of
peace and serenity that quickly makes
itself felt even by the stranger.

ANOTHER VIEW OF THE HOUSE, KENWOOD, N. Y.

Surrounded by grand old trees and
wide stretches of greensward, with a
gleam of water in the landscape, the
comfortable homes of the Oneida Com-
munity are indeed attractive, and it is
evident that the forefathers of the
present Community builded better,
probably, than they knew.

I greatly enjoyed the half hour spent
in the "Smoke House," which also
serves as a club house. As many of
the older members of the Community
object to tobacco and find the fumes
of smoke unpleasant, the juniors con-
siderately enjoy their evening cigar at
this nearby* spot, close to the baseball

grounds and the golf links. Speaking
of golf reminds me that there is no golf
team which has been known to excel
that of the workers and managers of the
Oneida Community industries.

I think I never visited a place in
which there was more interesting dis-
cussion of the things "worth while" that
help in getting permanent good out of
life.

Twenty-five years ago the Oneida
Community, as a community, was dis-
solved, but it has continued as an
organization ever since, and as a cohe-
sive proposition is one of the most suc-
cessful business corporations in the
country. If they retain this same uni-
fied, cooperative spirit in their under-
takings for the future, it will only be
a question of time for them
to secure and maintain an
absolute leadership in every
branch of industry which
they take up. Unification
first and good materials and
workmanship always are the
chief ingredients of commer-
cial success. The interest of
one is the interest of all, and
in the Oneida Community the
interests of the whole are re-
garded as vital and para-
mount, before which individual taste
and preferences ought to give way, even
as a matter of business. This is surely
an ideal manner of managing a busi-
ness.

It was well into the evening before
we left the interesting community at
Kenwood. We drove fout through the
great avenues, arched over with trees,
and passed over the well made roads
toward Oneida, carrying with us many
pleasant memories of this favored spot
and fully convinced that the Oneida
Community is an object lesson that is
well worthy of careful study and of emu-
lation.

EARLY WINTER FASHIONS

i^JOVEMBER, while it belongs among the
* * calendar months of the Autumn, really
means the beginning of Winter, sartorially
at least, and brings with it the demand for
costumes suited to all occasions of social
life.

DESIGN BY MAT MANTON.
Shirred Waist, 61 23.
Shirred Flounce Skirt, 5124.

The shirred prin-
cesse costume is emi-
nently graceful and
novel and will be
found adapted to all
the soft, crushable
materials. To make
it, for the medium
size will be required,
for the waist (5123) 5
yards of material 21
or 3 yards 44 inches —
wide; for the skirt
(5124) 12 yards 21
or 6 yards 44 inches
wide.

6186 Tucked Eton,
32 to 40 bust.

The little Eton Coat (5185) is especially
designed for wear with the fashionable prin-
cesse skirt and includes the little waistcoat
that is so smart and well liked this season.
For the medium size will be required, i y&
yards of material 52 inches wide with YT.
yard of velvet and % yards any width for
the vest.

6177 Fancy Blouse with

Bolero Effect,
32 to 40 bust.

6 188 Tucked Shirt
Waist. 36 to 46 bust.

Blouses and shirt waists are always in
demand and are exceptionally attractive this
year. No. 5177 and 5188 show two widely
different sorts. The fancy waist is made of
louisine silk with lace insertion and edging,
which gives a bolero effect, while the plainer
waist is shown in the fashionable plaid
taffetta but also will be found adapted to
plain silk and all the fashionable waistings.
To make the fancy waist for a woman of
medium size will be required, 3^ yards of
material 21 or i7/% yards 44 inches wide with.
4% yards each of insertion and edging ; to
make the plain waist will be required, 3^
yards 21 or 2 yards 44 inches wide.

Skirts this season are notably taking two
forms, that of the prin-
cesse and the one
showing the umbrella
effect. The princesse
models are greatly
liked and this one
(6159) is among the
best. It is laid in
inverted plaits at the
seams, which provide
becoming fulness. For
the medium size will
be required, 15^ yards

The May Manton Patterns illustrated in thi8 article may be obtained for 10 cents each. Address, Fashion Department,
National Magazine, 944 Dorchester Avenue, Boston, Mass.

EARLY WINTER FASHIONS

6184 Circular Umbrella
Walking Skirt,
22 to 30 waist.

of material 21 or 6^ yards 52 inches
wide, if material has figure or nap, u
yards 21 or 4.^ yards 52 if it has not.

Umbrella skirts are
to be noted both
gored and circular,
but the circular ones
are perhaps given
the preference and
are particularly at-
tractive as well as
extremely economi-
cal. For (5184) the
medium size will re-
quire 4 }i yards of
material 44 or 3^
yards 52 inches wide.
Nothing ever quite supercedes the blouse
Eton and this year it is being shown in even
unprecedented beauty of design. Model
No. 5191 is among the
best of all and allows
a choice of three-quar-
ter or full length
sleeves. For the me-
dium size will be re-
quired 4 yards 21 or
i^ yards 52 inches
wide with i yard of
velvet and ^ yards of
cloth for vest.

The making of chil-
dren's dresses is al-
ways a pleasurable
task to the mother,
and illustrated are
"some charming designs. The little frock
5160 is designed for the small children and
would be pretty made
of either washable ma-
terial or of cashmere,
challie and the like.
For a child of four will
be required, 2% yards
of material 27 or 2^
yards 44 inches wide.

The pretty little
apron (5144) is among
the novelties of the
season and is quite
certain to please the
young wearer as well
as serve an economic
purpose. For a girl

6191 Blouse Eton,
32 to 40 bust.

5144 Girl's Apron,
6 to 12 years.

DESIGN By MAT MANTON.
Child's Tuck Plaited Dress 5160.

of ten will be required, 1% yards of ma-
terial 36 inches wide.
School girls create an
almost incessant de-
mand for new frocks
and every new design
that is simple at the
same time that it is
stylish is sure to be
welcome. In 5176 is
shown a most attract-
ive model that com-
bines plain with plaid
and with figured goods
exceptionally well.
For a girl of twelve
will be required, 3^
yards of material 44 inches wide with one
yard 44 inches wide for the trimming.

Long coats that en-
tirely cover the little
frocks are the warmest
and most serviceable
that a child can wear.

This one (5167)
is among the latest
shown and is made
of red Melton with
a simple banding.
For a child of six will
be required 2^§
yards of material 52
inches wide.

6176 Girl's Dress,
8 to 14 years.

6167 Child's Long
Coat, 2 to 8 yrs.

The May Manton Patterns Illustrated In this article may be obtained for 10 cents each. Address. Fashion Department,
National Magazine, 944 Dorchester Avenue, Boston, Mass.

IF every reader of the National under-
stood how important it is to answer the
advertisements in the magazine, I am
sure they would set about it at once. It
is this sort of work which makes a pub-
lication especially valuable to the reader
as well as the advertiser and publisher.
One hundred subscribers who will watch
keenly for the announcement of new
propositions in advertising pages, and
promptly write and keep posted on what
is being offered, are worth more than
a thousand indifferent readers. The
advertising department is one of the
most important in the periodicals of
today. The conditions of today recog-
nize business as the genius of the age.
When it is realized that a manufac-
turer in a remote town in New England
or any state can, through the columns
of the National, announce a new line of
goods and in a few weeks receive re-
sponses from the Pacific coast, Alaska,
the Philippines, Cuba and nearly every
state and territory, it seems nothing
short of miraculous. These responses
are valuable just so far as the goods
which are introduced prove meritorious
and create a demand. The important
factor in building up an advertised
article is the dealer, and he is too often
overlooked. It will be recognized by
our readers that after learning in a gen-
eral way of the value of goods, if you
have your own dealer order a supply
you will be conferring a benefit on four
different people, first yourself, then the

dealer, the manufacturer, and last but
not least the National Magazine. If
you would spend a few minutes each
month going over the advertising section
of the National and select those things
in which you are interested and write at
once to the advertiser, you would find
it to your advantage. Advertisers ex-
pend millions of dollars to attract the
attention of the purchasing public and
the very fact that they purchase the
most attractive illustrations and valuable
space is positive evidence that they have
something good to offer, for it would be
folly to call constant attention to a thing
which would not bear inspection.

THE unwritten law of successful leader-
ship has occasioned many an interest-
ing political contest. For years it has
been assumed that the lieutenant govern-
or is in line for promotion by his party to
gubernatorial honors in Massachusetts.
The present year furnishes a spirited con-
test for the office of lieutenant governor of
the old Bay State inasmuch as it deter-
mines who is to later occupy the chair on
Beacon Hill. There never is a lack of able
candidates, and each one represents a
strong personal following in his party.

The customs which prevail in different
states throughout the Union in reference
to state politics seem to vary as much
as the statutes on various subjects, such
as divorce and insurance. But the
arrangements for the selection of a man
to fill this office seem to affect the gen-

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

eral cohesive qualities which lead on
to national political solidity.

Among the present candidates for
lieutenant governorship I happen to
have a personal friend, and I cannot

EBEN S. DRAPER

resist an allusion to Mr. Eben S. Draper,
and there is no man who more com-
mends himself to the electors of Massa-
chusetts. During the early stages of his
candidacy I happened to be in his
office and heard a declaration which

he made that will, I think, interest
every man who loves the spirit of
real, democratic, American institutions.
Mr. Draper is one of those genial,
jovial good souls whom it is. always

a del ight
to call a
friend. He
has for
many years
served his
party .with
that loyalty
and unswer-
ving fidelity
which is
sooner or
later certain
to reap its
reward. He
has been
chairman of
the republi-
can state
committee,
president of
the republi-
can league,
and dele-
gate to the
national re-
pu b li can
convention.
These posi-
tions, with
possibly the
exceptionof
the latter,
are such as
try a man's
fidelity and
tact.

He served
in the ranks

with the same spirit that he exhibits as
leader.

The remarkable thing about Mr.
Draper's career is that during all these
years he has never held a public office,
and, what is still more remarkable, has

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

never asked for one. If it were possible
for all the republican electors of Massa-
chusetts to meet and know Eben S.
Draper in person, I think they would
find him the same good friend that I
have found him, and consider him pre-
eminently qualified to serve the old Bay
State in any office they may desire to
bestow upon him. Sitting in Mr. Dra-
per's office, I heard him make the dec-
laration above alluded to. He said :

"I want to make a positive declara-
tion. It is possible for any man,
whether rich or poor, to win the high-
est honors in the commonwealth, and
it is my purpose to make this campaign
on such a basis that any man»of moder-
ate means may honestly and hopefully
aspire for the highest honors within the
gift of his fellow citizens. While re-
puted to be a wealthy man, I am going
to make this campaign on a basis that
will eliminate entirely the use of money
as far as possible for campaign expenses
directly or indirectly. And if I can
make a campaign in this way, it is
possible for any man of moderate means
to do so. If I do not deserve an honor
because of myself, and myself alone, I
do not desire it."

There was a ring of absolute sincerity
in his words. In fact, there is something
in everything that Eben S. Draper says
that you like. He speaks in an
open hearted, kindly way that has won
for him the affection of all who have
ever served with him in any capacity
whatever.

Mr. Draper's success as a manufac-
turer and the beauty of his home life
tell their own story. He numbers among
his friends many men of national pre-
eminence, but one of his most marked
characteristics is his loyalty to his native
state. A man of vigorous executive
ability, possessing clear cut, democratic,
American common sense, nobody can
look into the twinkling black eyes of
Eben S. Draper and not feel convinced
that he is a man of rare qualities — a

man who is an honor to his country,
a man who has a record of service to
his party, his friends and his state that
is certainly entitled to the well deserved
consideration of his fellow citizens in
Massachusetts.

An incident occurred during the early
days of McKinley's administration which
indicates the unswerving loyalty of Mr.
Draper to his friends. A political com-
plication had arisen in reference to an
appointment, for which nobody was par-
ticularly to blame. Mr. Draper went to
the president and laid before him all
the facts pro and con and submitted the
case of his friend, making his plea
directly. It was not much of an office
that he asked for, but it was the only
one he ever did ask for, and then it was
requested for a friend and not himself.
He secured it; and what more can be
said of a man in these days than that
he is honest, energetic and loyal to his
friends as well as his own highest ideals.

THE new game "Block," which is now
becoming so enormously popular, is
a card game of exceptional merit.
"Block" may be described as a "build-
ing-up" game. It has five suits, each
running from one to a higher number.
The block cards are used to break the
completion of a suit, so that the player
of the block card may lead from another
suit more advantageous to himself. The
object of each player is to run out of
cards, and whoever does" so, gains one
point for each card left unplayed in his
opponents' hands. One hundred points
wins the game.

"Block" is a game of extraordinary
fascination from the start, and is the
latest production of the Messrs. Parker,
who have many times made a world wide
success with their games. It is to the
Parkers that we are indebted not only
for "Block," but for the famous games
Pit, Bid, Pillow Dex, Ping-Pong, and
many more. "Block" deserves its im-
mense success.

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

JVTOW, we are going to give the real
hustlers a chance. I want to take
to Mexico with me two subscribers and
pay all expenses of the trip. We will
join thet famous, world renowned, Gates
Mexican tours, taking the one which
starts January 23. I have been looking
forward for a long time to this trip, and
at last have the opportunity to make it.
So we will be off to the land of the
Montezumas, the Aztecs and all the
other prehistoric peoples. This is prob-
ably the most remarkable country in the
world in regard to traditions and leg-
ends, which cluster around every ruin —
and they are many.

The proposition is this — To the one
who will send in the most subscriptions
to the National Magazine between now
and January 5, the trip will be awarded.
The minimum number must be 250, as
the trip costs something like $500, and
I want this positive proof that those who
go with me are absolutely in earnest.
Then as many over the 250 mark as
possible, for every one after that gives
you a better chance of success.

Commissions will be paid on all sub-
scriptions sent in, except the two prize
winners. Each worker will retain the
commission, and then the two who are
to take the trip will refund the commis-
sion to the National on* their arrival in
Boston, or wherever we start from. The
commissions will be liberal, so that no-
body fails to get a just recompense
for his efforts. Start working right
away.

Now is the time!

Register for the trip and send for the
Heart Throb Book, for this is going to
help with the work wonderfully. We
hope to have it ready by December first,
and meantime, you can make a start
with the magazine. Send in right away
for sample copies and full instructions.

Those who are readers of the National
need no information — they know Joe
Chappie and the National and under-
stand that it is simply a question of
interesting their friends. And then you
can have the satisfaction of knowing that
you are not only doing something for
yourself in securing liberal commission,
but are also conferring a favor on your
friends in having them subscribe for the
National. You give them an opportunity
to obtain a rare and valuable book and
the magazine for $2.

Now, this will take work, and lively
work, to get through before January 5,
and I hope a-11 of our subscribers will
help these workers in their laudable
undertaking. A complete itinerary of
the trip will be published in the Decem-
ber National. The time is short so just
sit down and make out a list of all your
friends and neighbors and tell or write
your story to each. You will be sur-
prised to find how many you can think
of. It was in this way that some of the
people who went on our European trip
succeeded. Every subscriber counts,
and don't forget that you will make
a liberal commission even if you do not
win the trip to Mexico.

We have had an inning for the readers,
and now this is the inning for the hus-
tlers. I wonder who the successful two
will be!

Do not let the opportunity pass, be-
cause after every campaign of this sort we
get thousands of regrets from people who
have neglected to take up the matter in
time. This is the finest trip we have
ever offered. Mr. Gates has his own
special train, and the service is unsur-
passed. It is a personally conducted
trip to all the places in Mexico that are
best worth seeing. Mr. Gates is a man
of international reputation, and never
fails to collect a fine party.

CHICAGO'S STREET RAILWAY DEADLOCK

"IMMEDIATE MUNICIPAL OWNERSHIP," COMMANDED BY
VOTERS IN THE SPRING ELECTION, IS BLOCKED BY
A HOSTILE CITY COUNCIL, A HOSTILE NEWSPAPER
PRESS, AND THE ACTIVE OPPOSITION OF THE LARGE
FINANCIAL INTERESTS OF THE WESTERN METROPOLIS

By Mayor Edward F. Dunne

MAYOR'S office, Chicago, November
10, 1905, Dear Sir: — In answer
to your letter of November 8, 1905, I
would say that I am not at all surprised
that the Associated Press is sending to
eastern newspapers many dispatches de-
claring that I have practically given up
the idea of the municipalization of the
street railways of Chicago and that I
contemplate resigning my position very
shortly.

Ever since I have taken office, my
position has been misrepresented both
by the Associated Press and the news-
papers of this city. It is wholly untrue
that I have abandoned the hope of
municipalizing the street railways of
Chicago, and the statement that I am
about to resign is maliciously false.
Neither assertion is warranted by any-
thing that I have ever said or done.

On the contrary, I am confident that
the will of the people, as expressed at
the polls, will be carried into effect
sooner or later in this city.

I have been hampered by a hostile
council and a hostile press. When I
was first inducted into office, I had to
face one of the most widespread and
exasperating strikes that has ever ex-
isted in this city. It lasted one hundred
and five days and was in force two days
before I was inaugurated.

During the strike I appointed special
traction counsel to inquire into the legal

aspects of the traction question and dis-
covered within sixty days after I took
my seat that one hundred and thirty
miles of trackage, out of a«total of seven
hundred, are being operated after the
expiration of the franchises thereon.

On July 5, I sent a message to the
council, calling their attention to that
fact and to the further fact that before
November i, 1908, two hundred and
seventy-four miles of the total trackage
of the city would be lying upon streets
upon which the franchises would expire
by that date. In the same message I
called the attention of the council to the
fact that municipal ownership could be
put into operation in only one of two
ways. First, by the issuance of Mueller
certificates under the Mueller law, which
would necessitate the submission to the
people of the question as to whether or
not these certificates should be issued,
entailing a delay of at least six months,
and secondly a further delay of six
months or more during which the valid-
ity of the Mueller certificates could be
tested in the supreme court of the state.
These serious delays might prevent our
placing municipal ownership in force
until my term of office expired — two
years.

The other plan contemplated the crea-
tion of a construction company com-
posed of five men of integrity and
business character whose views were

CHICAGO'S STREET RAILWAY DEADLOCK

favorable to municipal ownership. These
men, according to the plan, were to
incorporate a corporation which would
act as a constructing company for the
city. When incorporated the company
should receive a charter for twenty years,
empowering it to build, construct and
operate until they were paid the cost of
construction, the company to bind itself
to submit all plans, specifications, etc.,
for the construction of the road to the
city council and have the same approved,
and to issue sufficient bonds to enable
them to build the road, the bonds not
to exceed the cost of the road and to
bear five per cent, interest. All the
profits of operation over and above five
per cent, should be paid into a sinking
fund to the credit of the city of Chicago.
The managers and directors of the com*
pany, those acting in the interest of the
city, to receive no return upon their stock
and no emoluments of any character
except reasonable compensation for their
services to be agreed upon by the com'
pany and the city council.

Thus would be created a construction
company which upon the faith of a
twenty-year franchise could raise suffi-
cient money for the issuance of bonds to
build a road immediately. The city
would obtain the benefit of all profits
from the operation of the road at once
and the company could receive no profit
except the interest upon the money in-
vested.

Both of these plans were submitted to
the city council on July 5, 1905, and
referred by the council to the committee
on transportation. I expressed my pref-
erence for the construction pla~>. which
I called the "contract plan," but the
council has taken no action on either
plan. After waiting for three months
for some action, I sent several messages
to the council calling their attention to
the vote of the people as expressed at
the polls and respectfully urged them to
take action according to the people's
desire. They have absolutely refused

to pay any attention to the same, and the
transportation committee which has the
matter in charge, upon its own initiative,
has invited the present traction com-
panies to present forms of ordinances for
the renewal of their franchises for twenty
years. They are hurrying through these
ordinances with the utmost expedition
at the present time. Every move I have
made in the council in favor of muni-
cipal ownership has been defeated by
majorities of from forty-seven to forty-
two, to eighteen to twenty-two. I am
practically powerless so far as the council
is concerned. The council, however,
has agreed to pass no ordinance that
shall not provide for a referendum before
the people. I am very confident that
when the extension ordinances are sub-
mitted to the people they will vote them
down next Spring.

I have prepared and presented to the
council an ordinance in favor of muni-
cipal ownership on which the people will
vote at the same time.

In addition to having an un-
friendly council, I am further
handicapped by the fact that
every paper in the city except
the Hearst papers are doing all
they can to thwart municipal
ownership, and all the banking
interests and capitalists of the
city seem to be in league to pre-
vent the consummation of muni-
cipal owership in this city.

None the less I believe the people will
insist upon carrying out their wishes
already thrice expressed at the polls. I
have kept every pledge that I made to
the people, and intend to fight this thing
out to the end, notwithstanding all of the
misrepresentation, vilification and abuse
that may be showered upon me and the
cause I was elected to further.

Very truly yours,

E. F. DUNNE
Frank Putnam, Esq.,
The National Magazine,
Boston, Mass.

VOLUME XXIII.

DECEMBER, 1905

NUMBER THREE

Attains ai

Mitckell Ckapple

MERICAN people
naturally turn their
eyes toward Wash-
ington. It does not
follow that the cap-
ital offers a panacea
for all that is wrong
in the nation's affairs, and the anomalous
will be found there as in other cities.
Perhaps one of the things most likely to
impress a stranger coming to this coun-
try today is the fact that though the
country is revelling in prosperity so far
as natural products are concerned, yet
the stock market is dull and leaden.
This declares very conclusively — as
pointed out to me by one gentleman
with whom I talked — that the people
have lost confidence to a large extent in
the financial leaders, and are now turn-
ing their eyes toward Washington for de-
liverance from conditions which, while
in no way calamitous, suggest a spirit of
distrust and dissatisfaction even in the
sunlight of prosperity.

Personal impressions in Washington

did not confirm the idea that much
would be done by congress this Winter
in the way of tariff revision. But there
is a grand array of reciprocity treaties
left by John A. Kasson, as well as long-
cherished plans of the late John Hay,
and these are likely to stalk forth like
specters on Hallowe'en, in the halls to
congress' this Winter. Reciprocity has
long been used as a sort of lever to
bring about revisions in the tariff,
and tariff revisions are beginning to be
the order of the day; it looks as though
they would be finally effected through
reciprocity channels.

As the president has insisted on the
members of the cabinet not talking on
the way from the executive office, I had
to go around to their offices to get them
to talk to me. Formerly they used to
come and assemble in the anteroom and
the newspaper men had a chance then;
but now they are not permitted to do
this. Hereafter, cabinet ministers com-
ing from the White House doors are
exempt from interviews.

232

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

HONORABLE JOHN MCLANE, WHO AS GOVERNOR
OF NEW HAMPSHIRE ENTERTAINED THE
PEACE COMMISSIONERS AT PORTSMOUTH

I MADE my way to the second floor of
the war and navy building, where there
are three cabinet offices. First in the
gloom of the corridors I approached the
office of the secretary of state, and what
memories it awakened of the gallant
Colonel Hay! In room 208 is a tireless
worker. Secretary Root never under-
takes a task that he does not bring to
completion. His office hours are rather
difficult to measure. If he has a matter
in hand which requires his personal
attention until seven or eight o'clock,
here he is to be found. Radiant in
a white vest, with his brow wrinkled but
with lips firmly set in the determination
completely to organize and executivize
whatever is before him, Elihu Root is
oblivious to the flight of time.

During the days that I was there, I

saw a constant procession of senators

from department to department, busy

with various matters.

Among them I noticed Uncle Shelby

Cullom of Illinois and his colleague,
Senator Hopkins. Midway in the build-
ing I found Secretary Taft, sitting by
the large globe in the projecting window
of his office; with a thoughtful frown on
his brow he was going over some of the
problems growing out of the Panama
project, for the purpose is to dig, and
dig it will be on the Isthmus. No mat-
ter how harrassing the difficulties which
come up one by one, there is always
a dimple ready to come into play on the
face of the genial, good-natured secretary
ot war.

Directly across from the war depart-
ment is the navy department, and enter-
ing there you look upon the lineal de-
scendant of Napoleon Bonaparte, who is
giving strenuous attention to the Ameri-
can navy. No one can meet Secretary
Bonaparte without feeling that he is
a man of power and purpose, absolutely
earnest and sincere in his work. Few
men, perhaps, are more in harmony with

JOSEPH B. BISHOP, GENERAL SECRETARY OF
THE ISTHMIAN CANAL COMMISSION

Photograph by Harris-Swing, 'Washington

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

233

the president in their general line of
policy.

AFTER this visit I went down the
avenue — a five minutes' walk— and
dropped in to see Secretary Shaw. He
was just then meeting Sir John Murray,
assistant chancellor of the exchequer of
England. I could not help noticing how
much the chancellor was interested in
the story which the secretary told him.
It concerned the manner of appointing

judge: "I am elected for life."
"'Or good behavior,'" was the sig-
nificant response, "I think I am likely
to serve the longer term of the two."

The old idea about Englishmen not
enjoying a joke was not verified in this
case, for the listener to Secretary Shaw's
ancedote laughed heartily.

IN the interior department Secretary

Hitchcock has been kept pretty busy

on the land question, and the results on

MEN WHO WILL PROMOTE THE AMENITIES OF LIFE IN THE CANAL ZONE

THE PHOTOGRAPH SHOWS CHAIRMAN SHONTS AND CHIEF ENGINEER STEVENS WITH
THEIR AIDES DRAWN FROM THE NATIONAL CIVIC FEDERATION, AS FOLLOWS: EDWARD
A. MOFFETT, EDITOR OF THE BRICKLAYER AND MASON, AT LEFT; NEXT IN ORDER, W.
LEON PEPPERMAN, ASSISTANT CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER OF THE COMMISSION ; W. E. C.
NAZRO, WELFARE MANAGER; MR. SHONTS; PAUL CHARLTON, LAW OFFICER, INSULAR
BUREAU, WAR DEPARTMENT; MR. STEVENS

judges in this country. Some are elected
for life or "during good behavior," and
some are elected for a term of one year
only. Two newly elected judges hap-
pened to meet, one of each kind. The
man who had been elected for a year
remarked to the judge for life:

"I am likely to have a longer term of
service than you."

"How is that?" asked the other

the Pacific coast show that he has relent-
lessly pursued his purpose of cleaning
up the records. It was over in the old
postoffice building that I found Land
Commissioner Richards, the busiest
man in the country. Mr. Richards was
formerly governor of Wyoming, and has
a notable record as commissioner in the
land office. He grimly stated that he
had secured land of all kinds from the

234

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

JOHN L. HAMILTON OF HOOPESTON, ILLINOIS,
PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN BANKERS'

ASSOCIATION
Photograph by Gilson, Sykea & Fowler, Chicago

United States government, and was
pretty well posted on the procedure.
It is doubtful if there ever was a com-
missioner in the office who was so famil-
iar with the various methods of securing
government lands. Governor Richards
has a ranch in Wyoming which has been
his home for twenty years past, and he
is looking forward to retiring there when
his task in Washington is completed.
He has been vigorously at work con-
solidating and abolishing land offices
throughout the country, and has effected
a large saving. Paradoxical as it may
seem, the one desire that seems to
prevail in all departments is retrench-
ment. This sounds peculiar in the hey-
day of prosperity, but the modernizing

of all departments to conform with busi-
ness methods pure and simple — the
prevailing purpose of the chief executive
at the present time— has apparently
made itself felt all along the line.

QNE of the most notable gatherings in
Washington during the month was
the meeting of the American Bankers'
Association. This organization is one
of the most important in the country.
It is not merely a coterie of New York
financiers but an association which com-
prises the bankers of America, gathered
from every city, town, village and hamlet.

The distinguishing event of this ses-
sion was the speech of Secretary Shaw,
who said :

"We point with pride to our export
trade of a billion and a half, and with
thumbs in the armholes of our waist-
coats we contemplate our skill and fore-
sight and our ability as international
merchants. Will I be pardoned if I
suggest that this export trade is due in
no very large degree to our skill either
as international bankers or as interna-
tional merchants?"

The speaker went on to emphasize the
fact that we grow the products that the
world needs and the people come them-
selves and fetch the goods which we have
and they have not — until they purchase
them from us. He dwelt upon the in-
feriority of American trading ships, and
declared that if we are to get the full
benefit of our trade, of our natural ad-
vantages, and of the Panama Canal, this
condition must be changed. Mr. Shaw
quoted largely from the report of a
representative of the department of com-
merce and labor who went to South
America for the purpose of making in-

P holograph of President

Roosevelt and

of President

the Peace Envoys

Roosevelt with the Russian

Through a regrettable error the photograph
and Japanese peace envoys, which appeared in the October number of the National Magazine,
was not credited to the photographers who made it. This historical photograph was made
by Underwood & Underwood of New York and copyrighted 1905 by that well known- firm

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

235

vestigations on the matter of American
trade and means of transportation. He
also pointed out that so far as our inter-

longer independent. Our foreign com-
merce is four times as large as forty
years ago, but we carry in our own ships

DR. OTTO NORDENSKJOLD, THE CELEBRATED SWEDISH EX-
PLORER OF THE ANTARCTIC CONTINENT

WHO IS COMING TO AMERICA NEXT MONTH TO DELIVER SEVERAL
LECTURES ON HIS WORK, IS PROFESSOR OF GEOGRAPHY AND GEOL-
OGY AT THE UNIVERSITY OF GOTHENBURG, SWEDEN. HE ENTERED
THE ANTARCTIC REGION LATE IN igol, AND EMERGED, ASSISTED BY
A RELIEF EXPEDITION SENT OUT BY THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC,
IN JANUARY, 1904. HIS BOOK, "ANTARCTICA," WAS PUBLISHED SIM-
ULTANEOUSLY IN ENGLISH, SWEDISH, GERMAN, FRENCH AND SPANISH

nal trade is concerned the service is
excellent, but added:

"At our coast line we are brought
to an abrupt halt. Here we are no

only one-third as many gross tons as
forty years ago.. If we will but take ad-
vantage of our opportunities we will
send these products of farm and factory

236

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for NOVEMBER, 1905

THE PRESIDENT AND MRS. ROOSEVELT AT BULLOCH HALL, HIS MOTHER'S GIRLHOOD HOME AT

ROSWELL, GEORGIA

THE GROUP INCLUDES SENATOR AND MRS. CLAY, THE FAMILY OF MR. J. B. WING AND FRIENDS AND NEIGH-
BORS OF THE BULLOCH FAMILY, ALSO "MAMMY" GRACE, THE OLD NEGRO WOMAN WHO WAS NURSE TO THE
PRESIDENT'S MOTHER, AND "DADDY" WILLIAM, ALSO AN OLD SERVANT OF THE BULLOCH FAMILY, WHO
HELPED TO DECORATE THE HOME FOR THE WEDDING OF THE PRESIDENT'S MOTHER

under every sky and into every port, and
make our financial centers the clearing
houses of at least a fraction of the
world's trade."

Another interesting feature at this
meeting was the address of Mr. Frank
A. Vanderlip, who comprehensively and
concisely stated the situation and gave
timely warning against the tendency to
force prices beyond their legitimate val-
ue. The American Bankers' Association
was particularly fortunate in its selec-
tion of a president this year, Mr. John

L. Hamilton, of Hoopeston, Illinois, a
man who has well earned the great
compliment thus bestowed upon him.

THE White House receptions this Win-
ter will see the grandsons of General
Robert E. Lee and of General Ulysses
S. Grant serving as military aides to the
president. What a vivid page of history
is recalled by the names of these two
young men. Few visitors to the White
House, seeing these young officers, will

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

237

PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT AT THE HOME OF DR. BAKER, ROSWELL, GEORGIA

»
THE PRESIDENT IS HERE SEEN BIDDING GOODBYE TO MRS. BAKER, WHO WAS ONE OF HIS

MOTHER'S BRIDESMAIDS. "MRS. BAKER HAD BEEN INVITED TO THE RECEPTION AT THE OLD
BULLOCH HOME, BUT SAID THE PRESIDENT MUST COME TO HER. THE PRESIDENT MISSED
MRS. BAKER AT THE BULLOCH HOME AND ASKED FOR HER. SECRETARY LOEB TOLD OF
HER REFUSAL TO ATTEND A PUBLIC RECEPTION;- AND THE PRESIDENT SAID HE MUST SEE
HIS MOTHER'S BRIDESMAID, so HE DECIDED TO CUT OUT ESTABLISHED PRECEDENTS THAT

HE MIGHT MEET AND CHAT WITH THE GIRLHOOD FRIEND OF HIS MOTHER, AND AT HIS
SUGGESTION BARRINGTON HALL WAS INCLUDED IN THE ITINERARY. WHEN PRESIDENT
ROOSEVELT ENTERED THE OLD HOME WITH MRS. ROOSEVELT HE FOUND MRS. BAKER
SEATED, DRESSED IN BLACK, TRIMMED WITH WHITE LACE ABOUT THE COLLAR AND CUFFS.
SHE WORE A LACE CAP AND WAS THE PICTURE OF CONTENTMENT.

"'AND THIS is THEODORE,' SHE SAID, EXTENDING HER HAND, 'i AM so GLAD TO SEE

YOU, THEODORE.' THEN, PATTING THE PRESIDENT ON THE SHOULDER, SHtf TOLD HIM
HOW HIS MOTHER LOOKED WHEN SHE WAS MARRIED." — Newtfafer Diifatch.

238

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

BARONESS ROSEN, WIFE OF THE RUSSIAN AMBASSADOR TO THE UNITED STATES
Photographs by Clinedinet, Washington

fail to remember the eventful meeting What other country can present, in less
under the apple tree at Appomatox. than forty years from the period of

ELIZABETH ROSEN, DAUGHTER OF THE RUSSIAN AMBASSADOR

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

239

MRS. JOHN R. MCLEAN, THE WIFE OF THE CINCINNATI AND WASHINGTON MULTI-
MILLIONAIRE WHO RECENTLY BOUGHT A CONTROLLING INTEREST IN THE
WASHINGTON POST. MRS. MC LEAN ENTERTAINED BARONESS ROSEN AND
MISS ELIZABETH ROSEN AT HER BEAUTIFUL HOME AT THE CAPITAL
Photograph copyright 1905 by Clinedinit, Washington

240

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

LIEUTENANT U. S. GRANT OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY,

APPOINTED BY PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT A SOCIAL AIDE

AT WHITE HOUSE FUNCTIONS THIS WINTER

Photograph by Clinedlnat, 'Washington

strife, the scions of two great leaders
serving under one flag in the interests
of one government, though their ances-
tors had been in bitterest opposition.
There was a strong touch of sentiment
in the feeling that induced President

Roosevelt to select these young officers
for this duty.

A son of General "Stonewall" Jackson
has been appointed to West Point by
the president, and it is such appoint-
ments as these that emphasize the rela-

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

241

CAPTAIN FITZHUGH LEE OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY, SON
OF GENERAL FITZHUGH LEE, APPOINTED A SOCIAL AIDE

AT THE WHITE HOUSE THIS WINTER
Photograph Copyright 1905 Clinedinst, Washington

tions now existing between the two sec-
tions which met in deadly strife five
decades ago. This is the kind of
thing that calls attention to the way in
which America differs from other coun-
tries. Who could conceive of a descend-
ant of Charles Stuart returning to the
throne of England and selecting a grand-
son of Cromwell to act as military
aide? Who could suppose that an
heir of Louis XVI and a grandson of
Napoleon could ever serve together on
the staff of the French president? Cap-
tain Lee has served in the Philip-

pines. Liutenant Grant has seen ser-
vice in Porto Rico and was military
attache of our legation at Vienna. He
attended the school founded by Maria
Theresa, where the king of Spain and
many other well known young men and
good soldiers were trained; was ap-
pointed to the West Point school at the
request of General Sherman. So,
side by side, these two grandsons
of Grant and Lee will welcome the
guests at the White House this Winter,
and will not be the least interesting
feature of presidential receptions.

242

-NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

MRS. EDITH WHARTON, AUTHOR OF "THE HOUSE OF
MIRTH," THE MOST DISTINGUISHED NOVEL OF

THE YEAR IN AMERICA
Copyright 1905 by Charles Scribner's Sons

AT a Thanksgiving dinner at "Breezy
Meadows" I first met Edna Dean
Proctor. It was a merry party at Miss
Kate Sanborn's that night. Under the
inspiring leadership of our hostess, and
after the chairs had been pushed back
at that never-to-be-forgotten New Eng-
land feast, each one of the party of fif-
teen contributed something that pro-
vided the company with a "feast of
reason."

Among the guests was Hezekiah
Butterworth, who recited an imagin-
ative German story of that land to which
he has since gone. Rising in her place,
by request Miss Proctor repeated her
"Columbia's Emblem" — a stirring,
melodious bit of verse published first
in the Century and later in the National
Magazine. Her dark eyes flashed and

her voice was full and resonant as she
recited these lines which have been
repeated in the family circle, on the
platform and in school rooms, from coast
to coast of our country, inspiring pure
Americanism and winning allegiance to
the maize wherever heard.

Perhaps the first mention of the corn
as a floral emblem was made by Miss
Sara Clarke, sister of the late Reverend
James Freeman Clarke, in an article in
the New England Magazine of March,
1891. For years Miss Proctor has been
enthusiastic in word and deed regarding
this adoption of the Indian maize. In-
digenous here, and only here, and grow-
ing everywhere throughout the country,
the stately maize is significant of all
traditional and prehistoric America
as well as of our later centuries, and
is the one plant by which the whole
land with its past and present can
be symbolized, leaving each state
free to choose its own separate floral
device. It seems likely to be only a
question of time when, in response to
public opinion, the movement for the
corn will crystalize into legislative enact-
ment on the part of the government, and
the " tasseled corn" be acknowledged
as our national floral emblem. Thou-
sands of people have already memorial-
ized congress to this end. It was through
Miss Proctor's influence that the Na-
tional Magazine introduced the corn into
its crest, and to many people the ".boun-
teous, golden corn" already means noth-
ing less than an expression of a dis-
tinctive spirit of Americanism. When
the great states of the middle West
rise in their might and give this move-
ment the impetus it ought to have, it
will not be long before her ideal for
the maize is realized.

It was Edna Dean Proctor who wrote
the ode, "Columbia's Banner," for the
national public school celebration of
Columbus Day, October 21, 1892 — an
ode which was read and recited in the
schools on that day from the Atlantic

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

243

to the Pacific, and which is a superb
exposition of the meaning of our flag.
This ode and "Columbia's Emblem"
are included in the new volume of her
poems written since 1890, and entitled
"Songs of America and Other Poems."
Surely if ever there was one who could
speak with something of the authority
and majesty which American themes de-
mand, it is she. Here are the closing
lines of "Columbia's Banner":

Ah! what a mighty trust is ours, the

noblest ever sung,
To keep this banner spotless its kindred

stars among!
Our fleets may throng the oceans — our

forts the headlands crown —
Our mines their treasures lavish for mint

and mart and town —
Rich fields and flocks and busy looms

bring plenty, far and wide —
And statelier temples deck the land than

Rome's or Athens' pride —
And science dare the mysteries of earth

and wave and sky —
Till none with us in splendor and

strength and skill can vie;
Yet, should we reckon liberty and man-
hood less than these,
And slight the right of th» humblest

between our circling seas —
Should we be false to our sacred past,

our fathers' God forgetting,
This banner would lose its luster, our

sun be nigh his setting!
But the dawn will sooner forget the east,

the tides their ebb and flow,
Than you forget our radiant flag and its

matchless gifts forego!
Nay! you will keep it high advanced

with ever-brightening sway —
The banner whose light betokens the

Lord's diviner day-
Leading the nations gloriously in free-
dom's holy way!
No cloud on the field of azure— no stain

on the rosy bars —
God bless you, youths and maidens, as

you guard the Stripes and Stars!

Miss Proctor is pains-taking and thor-
ough in her work — seeking to know all
she can of a subject, and exact as to
the value of words. Thus, with her keen
sensibilities, she is able in verse or
prose to give the very feeling and atmos-
phere of an incident or a place, and

vividly to reproduce an age that is past
— as she has done in "Cleobis and
Biton" and in other poems of her col-
lection of 1890, as well as in those of
"Songs of America," and in her "Rus-
sian Journey," which really takes you
down the Volga. An army officer in
our Southwest, more familiar with In-
dian warfare than with verse, said of her
ballad, "The Rescue": "I consider that
the greatest poem in the world. It's a
perfect description of the Sierras and
the Apaches." And she is equally at
home among Mohammedans and East-
ern scenes. Of her "El Mahdi to the
Tribes of the Soudan," the late Pro-
fessor Myers of Cambridge, England,
said: "It is so Oriental I can hardly
believe it was written by anyone in the
western world."

It is fortunate that Miss Proctor's new
book includes that thrilling poem, "The
Song of the Ancient People," (the Pu-
eblo Indians of the Southwest), which
unveils for the reader a prehistoric past
on American soil, and fills him with
pride that America, our own America,
possesses traditions reaching farther
back, perhaps, than even the civiliza-
tions of the East. The "Song" seems
to be chanted by one of their priests,
and the opening lines, announcing their
state, have a Homeric simplicity and
dignity:

We are the Ancient People;

Our father is the Sun;
Our mother, the Earth, where the moun-
tains tower

And the rivers seaward run ;
The stars are the children of the sky,

The Red Men, of the plain;
And ages over us both had rolled

Before you crossed the main; —
For we are the Ancient People,

Born with the wind and rain.

When I first read "The Song of
the Ancient People" it seemed to me
that some great American master of
music, some Wagner, must arise to
give this epic harmonies worthy of
its lofty theme and beautiful words.

244

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1903

In "Songs of America" is also in-
cluded that memorable poem on Sacaga-
wea, the Indian girl who led Lewis and
Clark in their exploration of the West.
This poem was printed in the National
Magazine for August, and has been
widely quoted throughout the country.
The book also contains some notable
poems not before printed — among them
"Nataska," a lovely, pathetic, picture-
sque legend of Lake Mohonk, and "The
Captive's Hymn," a vivid narration of
one of the most touching stories in
our early history. I cannot forbear
quoting here "The Morning Star," a
poem referring to the death of Whittier
and to his "almost life long plaint
of sleepless nights, and the gladness
with which he hailed the dawn."

THE MORNING STAR

(John Greenleaf Whittier died at dawn, September 7,
1892.)

"How long and weary are the nights,"
he said,

"When thought and memory wake, and
sleep has fled;

When phantoms from the past the cham-
ber fill,

And tones, long silent, all my pulses
thrill;

While, sharp as doom, or faint in dis-
tant towers,

Knell answering knell, the chimes re-
peat the hours,

And wandering wind and waning moon
have lent

Their sighs and shadows to the heart's
lament.

Then, from my pillow looking east, I
wait

The dawn, and life and joy come back,
elate,

When, fair above the seaward hill afar,

Flames the lone splendor of the morn-
ing star."

O Vanished One! O loving, glowing
heart !

When the last evening darkened round
thy room, •

Thou didst not with the setting moon
depart;

Nor take thy way in midnight's hush
and gloom;

Nor let the wandering wind thy com-
rade be,

Outsailing on the dim, unsounded sea —

The silent sea where falls the muffled
oar,

And they who cross the strand return no
more;

But thou didst wait, celestial deeps to
try,

Till dawn's first rose had flushed the
paling sky,

And pass, serene, to life and joy afar,

Companioned by the bright and morn-
ing star!

A native of New Hampshire, of which
state she is very fond, Miss Proctor
spends a part of each year in New Eng-
land. She has traveled extensively, not
only in Europe and the East, but in
Mexico and South America, and every-
where life is to her a boon and an in-

spiration. Time has touched her gently.
Her womanly charm is the same; her
sympathies are as wide; her apprecia-
tions as glowing, her aims as true, as
when she voiced the heart of the North
in the Civil war or gave us those exquis-
ite lyrics, "Heroes," "Born of the
Spirit," and "Heaven, O Lord, I Can-
not Lose."

At this Christmas tide the readers of
the National must enjoy with me her
poem,

THE QUEEN OF THE YEAR

When suns are low, and nights are long,
And winds bring wild alarms,

Through the darkness comes the queen

of the year
In all her peerless charms —

December, fair and holly-crowned.
With the Christ-child in her arms.

The maiden months are a stately train —
Veiled in the spotless snow.

Or decked with the bloom of Paradise
What time the roses blow,

Or wreathed with the vine and the yel-
low wheat
When the noons of harvest glow.

But O, the joy of the rolling year,
The queen with peerless charms,

Is she who comes through the waning

light
To keep the worH from harms, —

December, fair and holly-crowned,
With the Christ-child in her arms.

THE NOVEMBER ELECTIONS * By Frank Putnam

MAYOR WEAVER of Philadelphia, wiser than the serpent, prepared for election
day by hiring for his army of poll-watchers all the white, black and piebald
thugs and toughs to be found in town, with many from other places. He arrayed
civic patriotism against the gang with one hand, and beat them at their own favorite
game of thuggery with the other. The New York Sun told the story — so it must
be at least partially true. Anyway, the reform mayor's party broke the gang's
strangle-hold on the public treasuries of both Philadelphia and Pennsylvania.

Mr. Hearst, in New York, made no bid for thug support: on the contrary, he
defied the thugs, offering $10,000 in rewards for conviction of violators of the elec-
tion laws. Result: he undoubtedly got a plurality of honest votes, but was counted
out by Tammany in certain slum districts, where his poll-watchers were slugged and
driven away. In these precincts Tammany performed a miracle — showing gains,
as against losses everywhere else in the city — and made Mayor McClellan's net
plurality a shade over 3,000. Boss Murphy's men might just as well have made it
30,000. Perhaps they were pressed for time, or maybe they ran out of ballots — or
names. Mr. Hearst promises to contest the election, have the vote recounted, and
is confident at this writing, November 8, that he will become mayor of New York
January i. Even partisan republican newspapers of Gotham agree that he got more
legal votes than either of his opponents. He brought fulfillment whirling at the
heels of prophecy for the National, anyway. Six months ago I predicted that
"within five years New York City will vote for municipal ownership of public utili-
ties." I didn't suppose that town would get a chance to vote on the issue earlier
than 1910. Well, whether Mr. Hearst wins his case in court, or doesn't, he has
given New Yorkers a valuable lesson in independent voting, and has enabled them
to express themselves in favor of public ownership of public property. He is today
far and away the biggest and most interesting figure in New York politics, and
bids fair to rescue that town from its fat Murphys who have grown rich selling
the public property to its lean Ryans for lo, these many years.

Boss Gorman in Maryland failed in his attempt to disfranchise the negro, only,
as I believe, because he didn't have sense enough to offer a moderate measure. He
disgusted and made foes of many of the leaders of his own party, such as Senator
Rayner, and drew out fierce blows from Secretary Bonaparte and the hardest-fight-
ing republicans — men who have no more use for race equality than Gorman himself.
Anyway, Gorman typified dirty politics — always did. His defeat is greatly to
Maryland's credit.

Boss Cox, republican dictator in Ohio, goes away back and sits down. Even
Ohio republicans can get too much of a bad thing, at long intervals.

Massachusetts sends Curtis Guild, Jr. , tariff-revision republican, to the state
house to succeed Governor Douglass, tariff-revision democrat. Boston rejects a
district attorney supported by both parties and elects an independent, John B.
Moran, with a big majority. Moran says Boston high finance is just as crooked as
that of New York, size considered, and he promised if elected to hale some big
financial lights into court. Boston has given him a chance to prove it. Mr. Moran
has heretofore appeared as an ally of Tom Lawson.

More ante-election hurrahing has been done about Jerome, independent candi-
date for district attorney in New York, than about any other man in the field. He
has held the office for four years, and is elected for four years more. I hope he will
have as much success prosecuting big thieves during the next four years as he
had prosecuting little ones during the four years last past. His noisy pursuit of
little Reginald Vanderbilt and gambler Dick Canfield was an amusing comedy, but
really if he is as big a man as the New York newspapers say he is, the
McCalls, McCurdys, Ryans, Belmonts and their sort are fairer game for his gun.

STEVENSON'S MONTEREY

By Charles Warren Stoddard

Author of "South Sea Idyls," "For the Pleasure of His Company," etc.

MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA

JULES SIMONEAU, STEVENSON'S FRIEND
IN MONTEREY

HE was lean and lank and long-haired
and very far from well when he came
ashore at Monterey in September, 1879.
He was hardly known save to those far-
seeing literary men of England who had
from the first prophesied for him a bril-
liant and extraordinary career. It was
not his fault that he did not end it pre-
maturely.

On the 8th. October, 1879, he
wrote to Edmund Gosse, from
Monterey, California:

MY DEAR WEG: — I know I am a
rogue and the son of a dog. Yet let me
tell you when I came here I had a week's
misery and a fortnight's illness, and
since then I have been more or less busy
in being content. This is a kind of. ex-
cuse for my laziness. I hope you will
not excuse yourself. My plans are still
very uncertain, and it is not likely that
anything will happen before Christmas.
[He had come hither to win the hand of
the lady who, in the following May, be-
came his wife.] In the meanwhile I be-
lieve I shall live on here " between the
sand hills and the sea," as I think Mr.
Swinburne hath it. I was pretty nearly
slain; my spirits lay down and kicked
for three days. I was up at an Angora
goat ranch in the Santa Lucia Moun-
tains, nursed by an old frontiersman, a
mighty hunter of bears, and I scarcely
slept, or ate, or thought for four whole
days. Two nights I lay under a tree in
a sort of stupor, doing nothing but fetch
water for myself and horse, light a fire
and make coffee, and all night awake
hearing the goat bells ringing and the
tree frogs singing, when each new noise
was enough to set me mad. Then the
bear hunters came round, pronounced
me " real sick," and ordered me up to
the ranch.

It was an odd, miserable piece of my
life ; and according to all rule, it should
have been my death ; but after awhile
my spirit got up again in a divine frenzy,
and has since kicked and spurred my
vile body forward with great emphasis
and success.

As a prelude to the Angora goat ranch
episode Stevenson had sought an experi-
ence in the steerage of a trans-Atlantic
steamer — see his "Amateur Emigrant"
— and a second one, even more trying,
on an emigrant train through the breadth
of the continent — see his "Across the
Plains;" these might well enough have
laid low a man better fitted to rough it
than be ever was in all his forty-four

STEVENSON'S MONTEREY

247

years; and then he was but nine and
twenty and comparatively inexperienced
for one can- hardly call an "Inland Voy-
age" tempestuous, or mountaineering
in the Cevennes a hardship.
With all his ills, fleshly and spiritual,

and perhaps longed for it earnestly at
times. One traces the shadow of home-
sickness, now and again, in his corres-
pondence; yet he toiled with a brave
heart and tried to forget himself in the
literary work he was always busy with.

he was not utterly cast down. He
was near the lady of his love; he was
in a new land that interested and at-
tracted him; he had once more been
cast upon the coast of Bohemia, where
he was ever welcome and quite at home.
It is but natural that he should have
missed much that he had left behind,

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

In September, 1879, ne wrote;

MY DEAR COLVIN: Although you
have absolutely disregarded my plaintive
appeals for correspondence, and written
only once as against God knows how
many notes and notikens of mine — here
goes again. I am now all alone in Mon-
terey, a real inhabitant with a box of my
own at the P. O. I have splendid

248

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

rooms at the Doctor's, where I get cof-
fee in the morning (the Dr. is French),
and I mess with another jolly old French-
man, the stranded fifty-eight-year old
wreck of a good hearted, dissipated and
once wealthy Nantais tradesman. My
health goes on better ; as for work, the
draft of my book was laid aside at p. 68
or so ; and I have now, by way of change,
more than seventy pages of a novel,
alas ! to be called either A Chapter in
the Experience of Arizona Breckinridge,
or A Vendetta in the West, or a combina-
tion of the two. The scene from Chap-
ter IV. to the end lies in Monterey and
the adjacent country; of course, with my
usual luck, the plot of the story is
somewhat scandalous, containing an
illegitimate father for piece of resistance.

There is offered for sale today in un-
limited quantities a tinted picture post
card, bearing the legend, Robert Louis
Stevenson House, Monterey, California.
The building, of plastered adobe, stands
upon a grass-grown side street where
there is little passing; it is in a forlorn
condition, the plaster peeling from the
outer walls, a sign between the two
storeys reads :

R. STEVENSON HOUSE

Another one, glazed, hanging over a
door opening upon the second-storey
stairway, bears the ominous word,
"Rooms." Within this transparency,
at night a feeble lamp lights the lone
wayfarer to his questionable rest. I
once slept in that house, or rather tried
to, and but once only. The other day I
revisited it and thought with pity of the
dismal hours R. L. S. must have spent
there at a time when he was most in need
of every home comfort and the refine-
ments of domestic life. The landlady
of today, whose house is of interest only
through its association with his name,
graciously pointed me to the wrong room
as having been the one he occupied,
now sacred to his memory. It is let like
the others to any transient guest for a
trifle. His room is on the opposite side
of the hall, in the rear of the house.

Of Simoneau's, Stevenson has written:

Of all my private collection of remem-
bered inns and restaurants, one par-
ticular house of entertainment stands
forth alone. I am grateful, indeed, to
many a swinging sign-board, to many a
rusty wine bush; but not with the same
kind of gratitude. Some were beauti-
fully situated, some had an admirable
table, some were the gathering places of
excellent companions ; but take them for
all in all, not one can be compared with
Simoneau's at Monterey.

To the front it was part barber-shop,
part bar; to the back, there was a
kitchen and a salle a manger. The in-
tending diner found himself in a little,
chill, bare adobe room, furnished with
chairs and tables, adorned with some oil
sketches roughly brushed upon the wall
in the manner of Barbazon and Cernay.
The table, at whatever hour you entered,
was already laid with a not spotless nap-
kin, and, by way of epergne, with a dish
of green peppers and tomatoes, pleasing
alike to eye and palate. If you stayed
there to meditate before a meal, you
would hear Simoneau all about the
kitchen, and rattling among the dishes.

You shall see to what extent he was
indebted to the kind offices of Simoneau
and how well he remembered the friend
of other days.

The letters began to arrive and he
turned from his toil to acknowledge the
pleasure he had in them:

MY DEAR COLVIN, — I received your
letter with delight ; it was the first word
that reached me from the old country.
I am in good health now; I have been
pretty seedy, for I was exhausted by the
journey and anxiety below even my
point of keeping up ; I am still a little
weak, but that is all ; I begin to en-
grease {engraisser, grow fat) it seems,
already. My book is about half drafted :
The Amateur Emigrant that is. Can you
find a better name? I believe it will be
more popular than any of my others; the
canvas is so much more popular and
larger too. Fancy, it is my fourth— that
voluminous writer.

To Edmund Gosse he wrote:

My new book, The Amateur Emigrant
is about half drafted. I do not know if
it will be good, but I think it ought to
sell in spite of the devil and the publish-

STEVENSON'S MONTEREY

249

ers; for it tells an odd enough ex-
perience, and one, I think, never told
before.

Of "The Amateur Emigrant,"
says to Colvin :

It is not a monument of eloquence;
indeed, I have sought to be prosaic in
view of the nature of the subject ; but I
almost think it is interesting. * »
Here and there, I fancy, you will laugh
as you read it, but it seems to me rather
a clever book than anything else: the

that is the habit of all children born in.
the steerage.

He appealed to Edmund Gosse : "Look
for my 'Burns' in the Cornhill, and my
'Story of a Lie,' in Paul's withered
babe, the New Quarterly. You may
have seen the latter before this reaches
you: tell me if it has any interest, like a
good boy, and remember that it was
written at sea in great anxiety of mind."
To Colvin he once wrote, in a plaintive

THE HOUSE WHERE ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON LIVED — 1879 — IN MONTEREY

book of a man, that is, who has paid a
great deal of attention to contemporary
life, and not through the newspapers.

It was while Stevenson was crossing
the Atlantic in the steamship Devonia
that he wrote "The Story of a Lie."
To Colvin he said: "I was vexed to hear
about the last chapter of 'The Lie' and
pleased to hear about the rest; it would
have been odd if it had no birth mark,
born when and how it was. It should by
rights have been called the Devonia, for

key, "I have never seen my 'Burns,' the
darling of my heart."

The truth is he began to feel very far
away from the literary center of the
earth, which is, perhaps, London. He
could not forget the past; he did not
wish to be forgotten. He appealed to
Gosse:

What is your news? Send me your
v/orks, like an angel, aufur et a mesure of
their apparition, for I am naturally short
of literature, and I do not wish to rust.

25°

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

I fear this can hardly be called a let-
ter. To say truth, I feel already a diffi-
culty of approach ; I do not know if I
am the same man I was in Europe, per-
haps I can hardly claim acquaintance
with you. My head went round and
looks another way now ; for when I
found myself over here in a new land,
and all the past uprooted in the one tug,
and I feeling neither glad nor sorry, I
got my last lesson about mankind ; I
mean my latest lesson, for of course I do
not know what surprises there are yet
in stqre for me. But that I could have
so felt astonished me beyond description.
There • is a wonderful callousness in
human nature which enables us to live.
I had no feeling one way or another,
from New York to California, until, at
Dutch Flat, a mining camp in the Sierra,
I heard a cock crowing with a home
voice ; and then I fell to hope and regret
both in the same moment. * * I live
here comfortably enough ; but I shall
soon be left all alone, perhaps till Christ-
mas. Then you may hope for corres-
pondence — and may not I ?

Stevenson arrived at Monterey in
September, 1879, an^ ^ft three months
later. I think it maybe said that during
all that time he was unfit for literary
work and yet he was never idle.

In writing to Philip Gilbert Hamerton,
one of the first to hail him as a genius,
Stevenson said:

I hope, my dear sir, you will not think
badly of me for my long silence. My
head has scarce been on my shoulders.
I had scarce recovered from a long fit of
useless ill health than I was whirled over
here double quick time and by cheapest
conveyance.

I have been since pretty ill, but pick-
ing up, though still somewhat of a massy
ruin. If you would view my countenance
aright, come view it by the pale moon-
light. But that is on the mend. I be-
lieve I have now a distant claim to tan.

Perhaps because, as he writes Hamer-
ton: "I find here (of all places in the
world) your 'Essays on Art,' which I
have read with signal interest,' ' he says
further on :

A letter will be more than welcome in
this distant clime, where I have a box at
the postoffice, generally, I regret to say,

empty. Could your recommendation in-
troduce me to an American publisher?
My next book I shall really try to get
hold of here, as its interest is interna-
tional, and the more I am in this country
the more -I understand the weight of
your influence. It is pleasant to be thus
most at home abroad, above all, when
the prophet is still not without honor in
his own land.

Again he says:

MY DEAR GOSSE : Your letter was to
me such a bright spot that I answer it
right away to the prejudice of other cor-
respondents or — dants ( don't know how
to spell it) who have prior claims. * *
It is the history of our kindnesses that
alone makes this world tolerable. If it
were not for that, for the effect of kind
words, kind looks, kind letters, multiply-
ing, spreading, making one happy
through another and bringing forth
benefits, some thirty, some fifty, some a
thousand fold, I should be tempted to
think our life a practical jest in the
worst possible spirit. So your four
pages have confirmed my philosophy as
well as consoled my heart in these ill
hours. Yes, you are right; Monterey is
a pleasant place ; but I see I can write
no more tonight. I am tired and sad,
and being already in bed, have no more
to do but turn out the light. — R. L. S.

I try it again by daylight. Once more
in bed, however ; for today it is mttcho
piro, as we Spaniards say ; and I had no
other means of keeping warm for my
work. I have done a good spell, nine
and one-half foolscap pages; at least
eight of Cornhill ; ah, if I thought I
could get eight guineas for it! My
trouble is that I am all too ambitious
just now. * * I've a short story of
fifty pp., which shall be finished to-
morrow, or I'll know the reason why.
This may bring in a lot of money : but I
dread to think it is all on three chances.
If the three were to fail, I am in a bog.
* * I see I am in a grasping, dismal
humor, and should, as we Americans put
it, quit writing. In truth, I am so haunt-
ed by anxieties that one or other is sure
to come up in all I write.

I will send you herewith a Monterey
paper where the words of R. L. S. ap-
pear; not only that but all my life on
studying the advertisements will become
clear. I lodge with Dr. Heintz ; take
my meals with Simoneau; have been
only two days ago shaved by the tonsor-

STEVENSON'S MONTEREY

251

ial artist Michaels; drink daily at the
Bohemian saloon ; get my daily paper
from HadselPs; was stood a drink today
by Albano Rodriquez ; in short, there is
scarce a person advertised in that paper
but I know him, and I may add scarce a
person in Monterey but is there adver-
tised. The paper is the marrow of the
place. Its bones— pooh, I am tired of
writing so sillily.

He grew to like the place and the lazy
life of its inhabitants fn spite of his ill
health and his ill-paid labor.

He said:

Monterey is a place where there is no
Summer or Winter, and pines and sand
and distant hills with real water from
the Pacific. You will perceive that no
expense has been spared. * * The
population of Monterey is about that of
a dissenting chapel on a wet Sunday in
a strong church neighborhood. They
are mostly Mexicans and Indians mixed.
* * This is a lovely place which I am
growing to love. The Pacific licks all
other oceans out of hand ; there is no
place but the Pacific coast to hear
eternal roaring surf. When I get to the
top of the woods behind Monterey, I can
hear the seas breaking all round over
ten or twelve miles of , coast from near
Carmel on the left, out to Point Pinas in
front, and away to the right along the
sands of Monterey to Castroville and
the mouth of the Salinas.

Again he wrote:

At times I get terribly frightened
about my work, which seems to advance
too slowly. I hope soon to have a
greater burden to support (a wife)
and must make money a great deal
quicker than I used. I may get nothing
for the Vendetta ; [it was never published]
I may only get some forty quid [sover-
eigns] for the Emigrant; I cannot hope
to have them both done much before the
end of November. * * *

God bless Stephen ! Does he not know
that I am a man, and cannot live by
bread alone, but must have guineas into
the bargain? Burns I believe in my own
mind is one of my high-water marks ;
Miklejohn flames me a letter about it,
which is so complimentary that I must
keep it or get it published in the Mon-
terey Californian. Some of these days
I shall send an exemplaire of that paper:
it is huge.

To Colvin he wrote:

I am a reporter for the Monterey Cali-
fornian at a salary of two dollars a week !
Comment trouvez-vous ca ?

Stevenson was at this time busy with
a sketch, a favorite with many of his
readers, entitled "The Pavilion on the
Links." He sent it to W. E. Henley
with the following:

Herewith The Pavilion on the Links,
grand carpentry story in nine chapters,
and I should hesitate to say how many
tableaux. Where is it to go? God
knows. It is the dibbs (the money, the
rocks) that are wanted. It is not bad,
though I say it; carpentry, of course, but
not bad at that ; and who else can car-
penter in England, now that Wilkie
Collins is played out? It might be
broken for magazine purposes at the end
of Chapter IV. I send it to you, as I
dare say Payn may help, if all else fails.
Dibbs and speed are my mottoes.

Do acknowledge The Pavilion by re-
turn. I shall be so nervous till I hear,
as of course I have no copy except of
one or two places where the vein would
not run. God prosper it, poor Pavilion !
May it bring me money for myself and
my sick one, who may read it, I do not
know how soon.

It was his custom to wander about and
make the most of his environment and
there was not a moment of his time but
he turned to profit, though his drafts
upon nature were not always payable at
sight. He tells Henley:

Yesterday I set fire to the forest, for
which, had I been caught, I should have
been hung out of hand to the nearest
tree, Judge Lynch being an active per-
son hereaway. You should have seen
my retreat (which was entirely for strat-
egical purposes). I ran like hell. It was
a fine sight. At night I went out again
to see it; it was a good fire, though I
say it that should not.

Just here it is interesting to note how

he utilized this episode a year later in

his sketch entitled "The Old Pacific

Capital," included in the volume called,

'Across the Plains." He says:

I have an interest of my own in these
forest fires, for I came so near to lynch-

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

ing on one occasfon, that a braver man
might have retained a thrill from the
like experience. I wished to be certain
whether it was the moss, that quaint
funereal ornament of California forests,
which blazed up so rapidly when the
flame first touched the tree. I suppose
I must have been under the influence of
Satan, for instead of plucking off a
piece for my experiment, what should I
do but walk up to a great pine tree in a
portion of the wood which had escaped
so much as scorching, strike a match,
and apply the flame gingerly to one of
the tassels. The tree went off simply
like a rocket ; in three seconds it was a
roaring pillar of fire. Close by I could
hear the shouts of those who were at
work combatting the original conflagra-
tion. I could see the wagon that had
brought them tied to a live oak in a
piece of open ; I could even catch the
flash of an axe as it swung up through
the underwood into the sunlight. Had
anyone observed the result of my experi-
ment my neck was literally not worth
a pinch of snuff ; after a few minutes of
passionate expostulation I should have
been run up to a convenient bough.

To die for faction is a common evil ;
But to be hanged for nonsense is the
devil.

I have run repeatedly but never as I
ran that day. . At night I went out of
town, and there was my own particular
fire, quite distinct from the other, and
burning as I thought with even greater
vigor.

This was not his only recorded adven-
ture in Monterey. He tells Henley:

I had a near escape for my life with a
revolver: I fired six charges, and the six
bullets all remained in the barrel, which
was choked from end to end, from muz-
zle to breech, with solid lead; it took
a man three hours to drill them out.
Another shot, and I'd have gone to
kingdom come.

Stevenson certainly entered into the
.spirit of the place, though he was there
but the quarter of a year, and he must
have enjoyed himself when he entered
into this school - boy prank with his
pals in Monterey; however, his account
of it, in a letter to Colvin, is hardly
intelligible to the general reader with-

out a word of explanation. He says:

I am in a conspiracy with the Ameri-
can editor [of the Monterey Californian],
a French restaurant man [Simoneau]
and an Italian fisherman against the
padre. The enclosed poster is my last
literary appearance. It was put up to
the number of 200 exemplaires at the
witching hour ; and they were almost all
destroyed by eight in the morning. But
I think the nickname will stick. Dos
reales; deaux reaux; two bits ; twenty-
five cents ; about a shilling ; but in prac-
tice it is worth from nine-pence to three-
pence: thus two glasses of beer would
cost two bits. The Italian fisherman,
an old Garibaldian, is a splendid fellow.

Now for the key to the foregoing.

The padre was the late Very Rev. A.
Cassanova, V. F., through whose influ-
ence, chiefly, the venerable Mission of
Carmelo was restored. He was a Swiss.
One day a youth, claiming to be a Swiss,
who was working his way down to San
Louis Obispo in search of a brother who
lived there, applied to the padre for aid.
A parish priest has many calls upon his
purse and is not infrequently imposed
upon : moreover, Padre Cassanova's rev-
enues went mostly toward the restoration
of the Mission of Carmelo, then a sorry
ruin. He gave the wandering Swiss boy
dos reales, deux reaux, two bits, twenty-
five cents, about a shilling, and bade
him go in peace! Then rose R. L. S.,
the American editor, the French restau-
rant-man, and the old Garibaldian, and
sat in judgement on that padre. An in-
dignation meeting was held, a popular
subscription raised for the merry Swiss
boy, and he left Monterey about fifty
dollars better off than when he entered
it. It was proposed to cast a blight upon
the penurious padre, and to this end he
was to be billeted upon the street corners.
R. L. S. volunteered to voice the senti-
ment of the non-sectarian citizens. A
placard was struck off in a printing
office in San Jose; it was a dark secret
and could not safely go to press in the
old capitol. Then in the dead of night,
whether with mask or domino I know

STEVENSON'S MONTEREY

253

not, the conspirators stole forth and
tacked upon every tree and fence and
wall available, the legend of the solitary
quarter. The faithful on their way to
early mass espied the fatal posters and
the town was straightway rid of them.
If the nickname stuck it was buried with
his reverence and I have sought in vain
for a copy of the poster, now lost to
history.

Happy days were those in spite
of all, as this letter to Henley
surely bears sufficient testimony:

shall deposit you at Sanchez's saloon,
where we take a drink ; you are intro-
duced to Bronson, the local editor ("I
have no brain music," he says; "I'm a
mechanic, you see," but he is a nice fel-
low ) and to Adolpho Sanchez, who is
delightful. Meanwhile I go to the P. O.
for my mail; thence we walk up Alvara-
do St. together, you now floundering
in the sand, now merrily stumping on
the wooden sidewalks; I call at H ad-
sell's for my paper ; at length behold us
installed in Simoneau's little white-
washed back-room, round a dirty table
cloth, with Francois the baker, perhaps
an Italian fisherman, perhaps Augustin

OLD CUSTOM HOUSE, ERECTED IN 1834, MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA, WITH THE STAFF

WHERE THE FLAG OF THE UNITED STATES WAS FIRST RAISED ON THE

PACIFIC COAST, JULY IO, 1846

I was wishing yesterday that the world
could get — no, what I mean is that you
should be kept in suspense like Ma-
homet's coffin until the world had made
half a revolution, then dropped here at
the station as though you had stepped
from the cars you would then comfort-
ably enter Walter's wagon ( the sun has
just gone down, the moon beginning to
throw shadows, you hear the surf rolling,
and smell the sea and the pines ). That

Dutra and Simpneau himself. Simon-
eau, Francois and I are the sure cards ;
the others are waifs. Then home to
my great airy room with five windows
opening on a balcony; I sleep on the
floor in my camp blankets ; you install
yourself abed; in the morning coffee
with the little doctor and his little wife ;
we hire a wagon and make a day of it ;
and by night I should let you up again
into the air, to be returned -to Mrs.

254

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

Henley in the forenoon following. My
God, you would enjoy yourself. So
should I. I have tales enough to keep
you going till five in the morning, and
then they would not be at an end.

To Henley, also, he said:

Choose, in your head, the best volume
of Labiche there is, and post it to Jules
Simoneau, Monterey, Monterey Co.,
California: do this at once, as he is my
restaurant man, a most pleasant old boy
with whom I discuss the universe and
play chess daily. He has been out of
France for thirty-five years, and never
heard of Labiche.

Simoneau !— I might almost call him the
sole survivor of the little coterie that was
the life and sparkle of Stevenson's Mon-
terey. Others are dead and gone, or
gone if not dead, and all are more or less
forgotten. The truth is Monterey, the
good old Monterey, is forgetting itself
and will soon be remembered only in
history and there almost pathetically.

Simoneau! I went to his house the
other day; it is on the slope of a western
hill above the town, and the landscape
and seascape that are spread before it
are often touched with radiance in the
afterglow. It might be called Fuschia
Lodge, that bungalow, for it is bedded
in a wilderness of flowers, and there
Simoneau and his wife have rested for
more than thirty years. Mme. Simon-
eau, a native of Lower California, almost
lives in her garden. She is of the sun-
browned Spanish type, and has the
singular affability of the Hawaiian: as
she stands among her treasures, clad in
a holokou and, with a quaint gesture,
cries in her pretty accentuated English:
"Oh! if only money would grow for me,
as the flowers grow!" and rolls her eyes
to Heaven, and then laughs with the
laughter of a child at the absurdity of
the idea, she reminds one of a chiefess
in the brave days of old when Hawaii
was a monarchy and really worth while.

Perhaps there were never two happier
people with so little money as the Simon-
eaus of Monterey. Theirs is the simple

life some people prate about and some
pretend to practice. Mme. Simoneau
boasts that when her garden was in its
prime it contained fifty-four varieties of
fuschias; it still has more than twenty,
and these so thrive in the rich soil and
sea mists that they roof over arbors ten
feet in height. It is refreshing to find
fuschias of every shade and shape in
place of the mobs of roses that almost
burst with fatness and look dowdy-
ish in their Californian exuberance.
Jules Simoneau sits in his easy chair
by the window and reads Robert Louis
for pastime — he knows him almost by
heart. There is a framed photograph
of R. L. S. standing on the bureau in
the corner of the room; it is the one
looking up from the manuscript page as
if the writer had just been spoken to;
"It is his best," says Simoneau, as one
speaking with authority — the authority
of love and intimacy. On the bam-
boo what-not are the precious author's
copies that have been thumbed almost to
the verge of shabbiness. Here are some
of the autograph inscriptions they bear,
the author's name being written in full
in every case:

Memories and Portraits
" To my kind friend Jules Simoneau."

Fleemitig Jen kin
" To his good friend Jules Simoneau."

The Merry Men
" For old lang syne."

Child 's Garden of Verse
" To my good old Simoneau."

Familiar Studies of Men and Books
" Vine Jules Simoneau et la temps jadis!"

Virgintbus Puerisque

"Que nous avons passe de bonnes soirees mon

brave Simoneau, sois tranquille je ne les

oub Herat pas."

New Arabian Nights

"Ce^qu'il en a — de mcs outrages!

Je ne trouve rien a griffonier.

STEVENSON'S MONTEREY

255

sV oubliez pas. Robert Louis Stevenson.
II n' oubliera pas. Jules Simoneau.

Underwoods

"If there ever was a man who was a
good man to me, it was Jules Simoneau."

The Strange Case ofDr.JekyllandMr. Hyde
"But the case of Robert Louis Stevenson
and Jules Simoneau — if the one forgot
the other — would be stranger still."

Letters passed between them, also, but
these testimonials of affection have been
guarded from the public eye, and though
editors, publishers and autograph collec-

would throw open to the public the
square in front of the so-called "R.
Stevenson House" and let it be beauti-
fied and known as Stevenson Plaza; it
could easily be made a beautiful resort
for pleasure seekers and a suitable loca-
tion for a kiosk where the band concerts
that now go begging might be heard to
advantage. There is not in all Monterey
a spot for the indulgence of elegant leis-
ure; a lounging place where the con-
templative mind may fondly dwell upon
the history of a town that for romantic
interest has no rival on the whole Pacific

THE FIRST HOUSE BUILT OF WOOD IN CALIFORNIA, AT MONTEREY, STILL OCCUPIED

tors have sought to purchase them, at his
own price, Simoneau has kept them
under lock and key and vows that he will
never part with them.

There is something sacred in a friend-
ship so sincere and so lasting. It seems
that now one cannot visit Monterey with-
out associating his name with the name
of Jules Simoneau. It has been Simon-
eau's hope that the local government

slope. The triangular square, over
against the abode where Simoneau
flourished in the Bohemian Era of Art
and Letters, is impossible in these latter
days; and grievously forces upon the
mind of man the feeling that a pictur-
esque bit of antiquity is, in its transition
stage, by no means a thing of beauty.

Neither is the first house built of wood
in California; nor the spectacle of the

256

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

sentimentalists begging a slip of the rose
tree that General Sherman never planted
and never saw — and begging it of the
modest lady who never knew the general
and no doubt wishes she could forget
that he was ever born. A few of the old
landmarks still remain; one of the most
cherished is the Custom House of 1834,
where Old Glory was first unfurled to the
breeze in California. On its seaward
veranda you will nearly always find a few
specimens of the oldest inhabitant, his
thin shanks warped to the curve of a
mustang's ribs, his bleared eyes still
fixed upon the harbor waters and the low
sand hills beyond them, his tongue reel-
ing off a tale of eld that sounds like an
endless lullaby.

Stevenson must have often idled here,
albeit he was a busy man and a lonely:
"I write you," he says, "hoping for
more. Give me news of all who concern
me, near or far, or big or little. Here,
sir, in California, you have a willing
hearer. * * Do keep me posted,
won't you? Your letter and Bob's made
the fifth and sixth I have had from
Europe in three months.

"O! and look here, why did you not
send me the Spectator that slanged
me? Rogues and rascals, is that all
you are worth? * * I await your
promised letter. Papers, magazines,
articles by friends, reviews of myself,
all would be welcome."

To Colvin he wrote: "I take one of
my meals at a little French restaurant;
for the other two I sponge." There was
no need of his sponging so long as Sim-
oneau was caterer; he was ever welcome
there and ever found his friend the best
of friends in sickness and in health — a
friend indeed.

Reverses befell Jules Simoneau and he
at last was reduced to peddling tamales
from door to door, out of the bucket that
hung upon his arm. Now, at eighty-five,
he is almost a prisoner in his home, but
he is happier than any millionaire. He
does not know how to complain. He

always says: "I have enough; there is
nothing I want that I cannot have, and
wild!" ~ with an inimitable gesture —
"I am a great-grand-father!"

Louis used to wander up to Fuschia
Lodge, for a change and a chat. Jules
is an up-to-date philosopher and can
hold his own with any reasonable being.
He used to stroll down to the R. Steven-
son house and carry the lonely soul away
with him for a breath of the briny, and
that thus together they might lift their
eyes unto the hills, whence came their
strength. He was sad enough some-
times, was Louis; he tried to write gaily
to Gosse, who had forwarded his last
volume of verse: R. L. S. acknowledged
the receipt of it in this wise:

MY DEAR WEG, — I received your
book last night as I lay abed with a
pleurisy, the result, I fear, of over-work,
a gradual decline of appetite, etc. You
know what a wooden-hearted curmud-
geon I am about contemporary verse. I
• like none of it, except some of my own.
( I look back upon that sentence with
pleasure; it comes from the heart.)
Hence you will be kind enough to take
this from me in a kindly spirit. * *
I have read nearly the whole volume,
and shall read it nearly all over again ;
you have no rivals!

He goes on with what spirit he may,
in this last letter from Monterey. He
finds "Bancroft's History of the United
States," even in a Century edition,
essentially heavy fare; a little goes a long
way. He respects Bancroft but he does
not love him; "still," he says, "I am
half way through volume three, and shall
count myself unworthy of the name of
Englishman if I do not see the back of
volume six — the countryman of Livings-
ton, Burton, Speke, Drake, Cook, etc."

From this on to the end of the letter
he affects no pleasantry; the despairing
tone adds pathos to all that has preceded
it He writes:

I have sweated not only out of my
pleuritic fever, but out of all my eating
cares, and the better part of my brains
( strange coincidence t ) by aconite. I

STEVENSON'S MONTEREY

257

THE ROSE TREE GENERAL SHERMAN NEVER SAW, MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA

have that peculiar and delicious sense
of being born again in an expurgated
edition which belongs to convalescence.
It will not be for long; I hear the break-
ers roar; I shall be steering head first
for another rapid before many days ;
nitor aquis, said a certain Eton boy,
translating for his sins a part of the
Inland Voyage into Latin elegaics; and
from the hour I saw it, or rather a
friend of mine, the admirable Jenkin,
saw and recognized its absurd appropri-
ateness, I took it for my device in life.
I am going for thirty now ; and unless I

can snatch a little rest before long, I
have, I may tell you in confidence, no
hope of seeing thirty-one. My health
began to break last Winter, and has
given me but fitful times since then.
This pleurisy, though but a slight affair
in itself, was a huge disappointment to
me, and marked an epoch. To start a
pleurisy about nothing, while leading a
dull, regular life in a mild climate, was
not my habit in past days ; and it is six
years, all but a few months, since I was
obliged to spend twenty-four hours in
bed. I may be wrong, but if the writing

258

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER 1905

is to continue, I believe I must go. It
is a pity in one sense, for I believe the
class of work I might yet give out is
better and more real and solid than
people fancy. But death is no bad
friend ; a few aches and gasps and we
are done ; like the truant child, 1 am be-
ginning to grow weary and tired in this
big, jostling city, and could run to my
nurse, even though she whipped me be-
fore putting me to bed.

And so he left old Monterey to its fate,
which is as yet an undecided one. He
sought a wife and happily found her and
together they went in search of new life
in new lands beyond the seas. There
were years of happiness in store for him
and he wrote the books he longed to
write. His memory of Monterey, "The
Old Pacific Capital," is but a few pages
in length and was written within the year
of his departure from it. Therein he
says of Pacific Grove: "The place was
'The Pacific Camp Grounds, the Chris-
tian Seaside Resort.' Thither, in the
warm season, crowds came to enjoy a
life of teetotalism, religion and flirtation
which I am willing to think blameless
and agreeable." He would not know it
now, nor much of the town with which
his name is so pleasantly associated.

Many a time, no doubt, did Stevenson
return in spirit to the haunts he knew
among the adobes on the shore of the
Pacific, though they were never again
revisited in the flesh. The sister of his
wife had made her home there; her son,
his namesake, was born and reared
there. To her he addressed the follow-
ing lines in Underwoods:

TO N. V. DE G. S.

The unfathomable sea, and time, and

tears,
The deeds of heroes and the crimes of

kings

Disport us ; and the river of events
Has, for an age of years, to East and

West
More widely borne our cradles. Thou

to me

Art foreign,as when seamen at the dawn
Descry a land far off and know not

which.

So I approach uncertain ; so I cruise
Round thy mysterious islet, and behold
Surf and great mountains and loud river-
bars,
And from the shore hear inland voices

call.
Strange is the seaman's heart ; he hopes,

he fears ;
Draws closer and sweeps wider from

that coast ;

Last, his rent sail refits, and to the deep
His shattered prow uncomforted puts

back.

Yet as he goes he ponders at the helm
Of that bright island ; where he feared

to touch,

His spirit re-adventures ; and for years,
Where by his wife he slumbers safe at

home,
Thoughts of that land revisit him ; he

sees
The eternal mountains beckon, and

he awakes
Yearning for that far home that might

have been.

To this lady he dedicated his "Prince
Otto," and to her son the following
poem, in "A Child's Garden of Verses:"

TO MY NAME-CHILD

Now that you have spelt your lesson, lay

it down and go and play,
Seeking shells and seaweed on the sands

of Monterey,
Watching all the mighty whalebones,

lying buried by the breeze,
Tiny sand-pipers, and the huge Pacific

seas.
And remember in your playing, as the

sea-fog rolls to you,
Long ere you could read it, how I told

you what to do ;
And that while you thought of no one,

nearly half the world away
Some one thought of Louis on the

beach of Monterey.

Monterey! Time and change have laid
their hand heavily upon it; its poetry
and its traditions are passing away for-
ever. A boom is on; the land sharks
possess the place. Surveyors drag their
slow links along with the blind persist-
ency of army worms. But the gray sea
and sands and sky are still there, and
there, thank heaven, to stay: so, also,
is the exquisite thrill in the salt air, and
the balsam on the breath of the breeze

STEVENSON'S MONTEREY

259

sifting over the piney hill tops. The
Summer weather is wondrous, the Win-
ter only more so; but in Summer it is
silvery gray most of the time; so cool
that a fire flickers on the hearth and yet
the windows are always open; sometimes
the sea mist falls like the first faint snow-
flakes, melting deliciously upon the
cheek; when the sun shines for a few
hours all nature is so resplendent that
one hides one's dazzled eyes, after a
while, and longs for the fall of the
mist.

In the old days there was the same
sea fog over head that makes one feel as
if he were living under ground glass; the
sea-gulls used to roost in the back-yards
then, and in repose they looked for all
the world like stuffed birds, their out-
lines are so simple. The harbor was at
times like a very swamp for the broad
fields of seaweed that infested it.

Now it is boat-ridden, the deep harbor,
and has an air of thrift. Indeed there
is little left of Stevenson's Monterey and
that little is sure to grow less and less
from day to day. There is a military
post just over the hill to the west, within
easy walking distance, and squads of
soldier boys patrol the streets in blue
coats 01 khaki all day long and a good

part of the night as well. They fire their
sunset gun promptly up at the Presidio;
there is a bugle cry before it; everything
is done decently and in order and one
would imagine, when it is all over, that
the whole matter was settled at once and
forever. The sky is gray overhead; it
is nearly always some shade of gray,
more or less; it is deepest gray where it
slopes down upon the wooded hills that
are themselves paling and turning ashen
gray in the twilight. And — what? Over
yonder through a cleft in the hills and
beyond the gathering grayness, lol a
glimpse at a vale of light; and over and
beyond that, backing up against the
bluest of blue skies, a mountain glowing
like a coal of fire, a towering pyramid of
living flame! It is as if the curtain of
heaven in descending upon the transfor-
mation scene had been caught and held
there for a space. Ah me! This is al-
most too much of a surprise : I suppose
the echo of the regulation sunset gun
has not yet floated into that delectable
valley : or, is it the after-glow that re-
visits us nightly in that self-same cosy-
corner of the world, just as it used to in
the olden days when Monterey was in
the heyday of its youth and all alone in
its glory I

I HEAR IT WAS CHARGED AGAINST ME

I HEAR it was charged against me that I sought to destroy institutions;

But really I am neither for nor against institutions;

( What indeed have I in common with them ? — Or what with the destruction of them ? )
Only I will establish in the Manahatta, and in every city of These States, inland and seaboard,
And in the fields and woods, and above every keel, little or large, that dents the water,
Without edifices, or rules, or trustees, or any argument,
The institution of the dear love of comrades.

— Walt Whitman (1860).

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MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

IV. — CAPITAL AND ITS RIGHTS

By Michael A. Lane

Author of "The Level of Social Motion," "New Dawns of Knowledge,'

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

etc.

"The constitution, the set of laws or prescribed habits of acting, that men will live
under, is the one which images their convictions, their faith as to this wondrous universe,
and what rights, duties, capabilities they have there ; which stands sanctioned, therefore, by
necessity itself, if not by a seen deity, then by an unseen one. Other laws, whereof there
are always enough ready made, are usurpations, which men do not obey but rebel against,
and abolish at their earliest convenience." — Thomas Carlyle.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident : that all men are created equal ; that they are
endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights ; that among these are life, liberty
and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights governments are instituted among
men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed ; that whenever any form
of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to
abolish it, and to institute a new government, laying its foundations on such principles and
organizing its powers in such form as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety
and happiness." — American Declaration of Independence.

IN the above two declarations, the first
of which is scientific, or philosophi-
cal, the second practical, there is laid
down the principle of majority rule, or
the ancient principle that might is right.
For, after all, right and wrong is only
a question of definition, and the only
moral definitions continually enforced
are those that are made by the strongest
power. In the present discussion of
capital and its rights an effort will be
made to keep in mind the limitations of
the definitions given by philosopher and
by revolutionist, both of whom sought
the justification of revolution and found
it. The philosopher postulates "neces-
sity" as the basis of revolution; the
practical politician "safety and happi-
ess" ; and these two phrases are mere
euphemisms — other ways of saying that
men now and then awaken to an acute
realization of the chronic fact that they
are not getting their due share of the
wealth produced by their common effort.
Very few working men are satisfied
with the wages they receive. A "raise

of pay" is grateful to all persons, or
nearly all, who are employed by others
in industrial or other occupations. The
preacher, the educator, the editor, the
clerk, are, like the tradesman, "em-
ployed" by somebody. Few of them
think they are sufficiently paid. And,
like the tradesmen, they would all or-
ganize some form of labor union and
strike, if, unlike the tradesmen, they
were not afraid that their places could
be immediately filled by what the trades-
men call "scabs." The various classes
of men, — preachers, educators, clerks,
editors, — find it profitable, as they be-
lieve, to "crook the pregnant hinges of
the knee that thrift may follow fawning."
They do not receive enough pay, they
would like to have more, but they are
in somebody's power; they are afraid of
losing their jobs. In whose power are
they? Of whom are they afraid, and
what are the probable methods they will
use — if they use any at all — to release
themselves from this power, and, with the
tradesmen, or mere "laborers," bring

262

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

about that safety and happiness men-
tioned by the independence declarers,
and called necessity by the philosopher?
Perhaps a consideration of the rights of
capital will assist us in answering these
questions.

The term capital is used here, of
course, in its figurative meaning. Liter-
ally defined, capital is that part of
wealth used in the creation and distribu-
tion of new^ wealth. Machinery of every
kind, the material of manufacture, in-
dustrial plants, money, all things used
to make or distribute wealth — this is
capital, with land as its base. When we
say the rights of capital we mean the
rights of the men who own capital.
Capital is a mere category of things.
Things can have no rights. Men have
rights. What are the rights of capital-
ists?

The rights of capitalists seem, at the
very present time, to be in what might
be called ferocious dispute. Capitalists
urge one thing; non-capitalists urge
another, and both parties are divided
in themselves. Unfortunately for the
disputants, the America .- constitution
does not define the rights of capital,
because when the constitution was made
the rights of capital were not in dispute.
Some of the "fathers" were very bitter
against banks; whether from personal
motives, or because the Rothschilds
furnished the money that paid the
Hessians, is unknown, and besides,
quite indifferent.

At all events, the constitution does
not mention the "trusts" for the simple
reason that there were no "trusts" when
the constitution was made. The consti-
tution does not mention other things
which would certainly find a place in
an American constitution made today.
On the other hand, the constitution
mentions several things as being of great
importance which are now of no import-
ance whatsoever. It is loaded with
obsolete words and with ideas that
have no concrete correspondences. In

a word, it is a dead thing. It does not
"image the convictions" of the people
as to their rights. Nor is it sanctioned
by necessity, nor by anything else. The
main thing in the thoughts of the Ameri-
can people today is the power of the
trusts. The constitution says nothing
of this.

If the supreme court were called upon
to pass upon the constitutionality of an
anti-trust law, its deliberations would
necessarily be a farce. It would, to use
the hackneyed phrase, have to "interpret
the meaning of the framers of the con-
stitution" as to trusts, whereas the
framers had no intentions whatsoever
concerning trusts. The decision would
therefore embody the intentions of the
members of the supreme court and of
nobody else concerning trusts.

Whatsoever may be the opinion of the
supreme court, the real constitution —
that is, the convictions of the people —
seems to have it that the power of the
trusts and the rights of capital in general
are altogether too great. Let us take
a concrete example. The man who con-
trols or owns a railroad stretching half-
way across the continent will claim — if
a strike comes up — that he "proposes
to run his own business in his own
way." The very same claim is made
by the owners of coal mines, steel mills,
department stores, and of every other
kind of business from a consolidated
express service to a retail shop that
dispenses ribbons to women.

Now the question arises, Do these
men really own the thing? Are they,
morally speaking, the absolute masters
of these accumulations of capital? Have
they the moral right to run the business
in their own way? And if they have
that right — if they have the right to keep
coal mines closed for half a year, and
to stop a railroad for months at a time,
or indefinitely, where did they get it?

The owner of a railroad, a coal mine,
steel mill, or of any other large industry,
is really a king with an army back of

MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

263

him. Theoretically he is not more
powerful in his rights than the small-
est store keeper. The nation's military
forces will protect his property (theo-
retically) with as much solicitude as,
and no more than, it will protect the
property of a street huckster. The great
capitalist is, unquestionably, a powerful
man; but he is not individually more
powerful than other individuals. His
power is vicarious. It is social power
he wields, and it is society that places
that power in his hands. When, there-
fore, he proclaims that he "proposes to
run his own business in his own way,"
his proposal is no less than a proposal
to use, in his own way, the power that
society has placed in his hands. The
body of his rights is the creature of
society. Society placed those rights
upon him because society believed (at
one time) that an exercise of those rights
by the individual could minister to
social comfort. The arrangement was
regarded as a necessary concomitant of
the general weal. Society did not have
in view any particular individual. Any
individual who could serve its purpose
was the one it desired to protect. There-
fore it made laws equally protecting (in
theory) all individuals whatsoever.

But the view of his rights and powers
taken by the large capitalist (and the
small one) is a very different view from
this. All capitalists claim a DIVINE
right to "run their business in their
own way" —if not claiming it literally,
why then, rhetorically. The capitalist
does not concede the vicarious nature
of his power, nor indeed his dependence
upon society for that power. He does
not admit the right of society to take his
power from him. He does not care
whether he is doing society good or ill,
and he evidently imagines that there is
some strange, miraculous, superhuman,
preternatural power that will enable him
to run his business in his own way what-
ever society may have to say about it.

This state of mind on the part of large

capitalists is everywhere manifest in the
United States of America. "It does
not suit us" — to do this, that, or the
other thing, is the ultimate reason of
American capitalists quite as much as
it has been of kings.

There is a fatuity in this sort of thing
that is quite sad, in its way. So vastly
to misapprehend the foundations upon
which one rests as to confound cope-
stone with corner-stone savors of the
madness that is proverbially the fore-
runner of destruction.

Suppose that society, after long
patience, after long putting up with
endless asseverations of divine rights
and other rights, and other things that
are clearly not right at all, should say
to the capitalist, "We propose that you
run this business in our way and not
in your own way," — what then becomes
of the rights of capital and the power
in the hands of the one man? Suppose
that society, which has given the capi-
talist his power, should take that power
away? Having given, it can take away.
What then becomes of the capitalist's
miraculous, superhuman, preternatural
power to run his business in his own
or in anybody's way? What, indeed,
becomes of his business?

The above, in a general way, is the
argument that is made by the advocates
of collective, or national, ownership of
industry; and this argument coincides
sharply with the dividing line between
the theoretical socialist and the practical
anarchist. The practical anarchist is
the man who chafes and frets under the
rule of society. He has faith in indi-
vidual liberty. He detests being forced
or ruled by society. So long as society
does what pleases him, so long as society
does not seek to restrain him in the
work it pleases him to do, the practical
anarchist has no complaint to make.
He likes to possess a business of his
own, and to run it in his own way —
quite regardless of what others consider
the rights that are theirs; he likes

264

society to do just precisely what he
wishes it to do, and to restrain him in
no manner whatsoever. He considers
only his own liberty, his own good; he
cares nothing for society. He is opposed
to taxes and he gets out of paying them
by devious methods. He uses the laws
which society has made for its own pro-
tection, to the injury of society itself.
He is individualistic, anti-socialistic,
anarchistic. He is opposed to all gov-
ernment that would restrain him. He
favors all government restraining others.

The practical anarchist, as found in
the United States, is far more destruc-
tive to the prosperity and peace of this
country than his fellow and sympathizer,
the bomb-throwing anarchist, who assas-
sinates presidents; for society, when the
assassin appears, can grapple with and
kill him. But it is not so easy to lay
hands upon the business or industrial
anarchist, who, by his wanton disregard
of the rights of others, practices general
and subtle assassination when he jolts
the nation's industry out of its grooves,
or manufactures poisonous or dangerous
commodities in violation of law. The
master anarchist, the most destructive
anarchist, is he who, in violation of all
legal and moral rights of others, runs his
business in his own way and fancies that
society has no right to restrain him.
When the constitution of the United
States was made the rights of capitalists
to run their business in their own way
were not in dispute. Today they are in
dispute. And this dispute is the dis-
pute upon which the entire future of this
country depends.

Here, then, is your social fact: the
conditions which made it to the best
interest of all (in the opinion of society)
that one individual, or a number of
individuals, should be permitted to have
absolute control over a railroad, or a
coal mine, or a steel factory, or the coal
oil supply, have (in the opinion of so-
ciety) changed. It is the opinion of the
majority of the people of the United

States that the moral rights of capital to
these things, and to most of the under-
takings of industry, have lapsed. It is
not right that the owners or controllers
of "trusts" should run their business in
their own way." Society has said it.
Society and the capitalists are in strug-
gle, and Might, in this case as in all
others, will determine Right. Which
of the two parties will prove the
mightier?

To the student of history this struggle
is a familiar one. It is as old as society
itself. Ever disappearing in one form,
only to reappear under new forms and
new names, it must go on until it is at
an end forever. The end can be already
seen emerging— -the first symptoms of
it in the conduct of capital itself.
Whenever the time comes that an estab-
lished legal right, or a tolerated right,
whether legal or not, is compelled con-
tinually to assert itself and defend itself
and fight for its very life; whenever the
individual to whom the state has given
a right is compelled continually to cry
out to the state reminding the state of
the existence of that right, why then, we
are moved to ask, "What is the matter?"
When a whole people rise up and cry
out, "It is not right!" it is evident
that, in their opinion, something must
be wrong.

Now, what is wrong here? Why this,
the very power of capital to run its busi-
ness in its own way, given ages ago by
society, grown into custom, and codified
into law— it is THAT which is not right,
it is that which is wrong. Legally right,
perhaps, but morally wrong; and what
is judged by a majority as morally wrong
cannot long remain legally right.

But if capitalists, morally, do not own
their business, who, then, are the real
owners of it? who the moral owners
of it?

The men who at risk of their lives cut
down the living timber in the virgin
forest, the other men who transport it
to the mill, the others who place it, with

MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

265

the labor of Egyptian slaves, upon the
surveyed railroad route; the surveyor
himself, the men who mine ore and coal,
who transport it, who work the soil and
garner crops, mine stone, make brick,
and build cities; the millions of men
and women in factory and shop, and the
other millions who lay down product to
the consumer — these are the moral own-
ers of capital if the words "moral right"
are anything but an empty sound.

"What a dust I raise!" exclaimed
y£sop's fly on the cart wheel. "How
necessary I am!" cries the capitalist of
a few or many millions of dollars.

The sound old principle to the effect

That they shall take who have the power,
And they shall keep who can,

is as sound today as ever. It is a
plastic, protean principle, self regulat-
ing, working, like all principles of
action, by its own force. Here it puts
into sounding phrase the more homely
proverb that might is right. It is the
issue being tried today in the United
States between capital, which would run
its own business in its own way, and
society, which apparently has recently
been taken with an acute realization
of a chronic want. Take what you
have the power to take; keep what you
can.

Truly, there is something picturesquely
royal about the great man who, with a
wave of his hand, can say: "My rail-
road," "my coal mines," "my oil indus-
try," "my steel mills." Royal, and at
the same time ridiculous — the railroads
and the steel mills are so large and the
man so small — as small as ^Esop's fly
in all the dust it raised.

The locomotive, operated day in, day
out by the locomotive engineer, belongs
to the engineer — in part. He can say
with very truth "my locomotive," nor
will any man gainsay him. He, as the
curator of the locomotive, may justly say

that it is his. But if the curator of the
locomotive has in it an ownership right,
the creators of it have ownership rights
no less. The locomotive is the last
accumulated effect of the labor of
miners, smelters, forgers, assemblers,
and transporters; of the men who placed
in the hands of all of these the tools
that did the work; of those more remote
men who fed and clothed the labor
intermediate between them and the
thing itself; of all the men who built,
weaved, or dug that this thing might
be; of the mechanical engineer who
designed it; of the men who taught,
with infinite- patience and self denial,
the developing brain of that engineer
its cunning and its skill; in a word, of
the entire assemblage of men who con-
tributed to the combined effort that
dragged the minerals from the unwilling
earth and embodied them in the magni-
ficently beautiful and useful creation
which, when complete, was turned over
to the locomotive engineer and his care.
And all this labor, what is it but the
labor of society — of society, without
which the individual man would be as
a beast with mere claws and strong teeth
to devour? If the individual man can
be said to have any right to ownership
in anything, it is only such right as
society sees fit to give him. All other
rights, in the words of the philosopher,
are, whether codified or uncodified,
"usurpations which men do not obey
but rebel against, and abolish at their
earliest convenience."

Once you have a clear conception of
social rights to social things you have
the first step to their codification. And
until that codification is accomplished —
and accomplished clear through all
the tissue of society, from the largest
to the smallest quantity of capital
used in that way — there will be
"something wrong" with society,
we may all of us rest assured.

THE CHRISTMAS BACKLOG

By John Brown Jewett

N E WTOWN, OHIO

9 *| * WAS more'n fifty years ago, they say,

' Old Tom Brown was livin' down this way;
Tom was old Judge Brown's father — Judge was then
Long ways from bein' one of our big men,
But was as big a boy, for seventeen,
As any that the backwoods ever seen ;
Tall as a sapling, muscled like a horse,
He swung a broadaxe with an engine's force.
Old Tom, his father, was a grim old blade;
A mighty little waste o' words he made.
He said but once whate'er he had to say,
And those who knew him let him have his way.

Young Tom — the Judge, you know — was not a fool,

And never crossed the old man's household rule;

And so, when on a howling Winter's night

The folks were sitting in the fireside light,

(And doin' little else, because, you see,

Old Tom was rather chilly company)

And when the fire began to burn down low,

And the old man commanded young Tom: "Go

And bring the backlog," you may bet he went,

And to the log his stalwart shoulders bent.

No matter what its weight, his load he bore

Without a grumble, to the cabin door,

But always stopped before he laid it down

To say: "I've brought the backlog," to old Brown,

Who never slacked his discipline, but said:

"Then put it on the fire, and go to bed."

So things had gone until that Christmas Eve

When Tom was seventeen. I do believe

That Santa Glaus was still a foreigner then,

Leastwise in these parts, for the old gray men

Like Judge Brown never talk about the toys

And things old Kringle brought when they were boys.

Well, anyhow, the fire was burnin' bright,

And all were sittin' 'round it, on that night,

As quietly as usual, but Tom's mind

Was filled with thoughts of an unpleasant kind.

There lay a backlog now outside the door

Such as young Tom had never braved before;

Trunk of a giant of the forest trees,

It might have been a load for Hercules.

Tom had helped haul it from the woods that day,

THE CHRISTMAS BACKLOG 267

And ever since had wondered what to say

When the inexorable summons came

To give the mammoth timber to the flame.

Still more perplexed he grew; the fire burned low;

Too soon he heard the dreaded mandate: "Go

And bring the backlog." You may bet he went,

But 't was to flee the whole predicament.

He knew that protest would be worse than vain —

Absurd as for a rock to melt in rain.

He ne'er would dare to meet his father's face

Till he could put that backlog in its place.

So off he started through the snowy night,

Began his fortune with that sudden flight;

Tramped forty miles that night across the woods,

Reached town, became a store clerk, peddled goods,

Then studied law, got higher every year,

Until he got to be "Judge" Brown, up here.

Well, ten years passed, and as the country grew

Judge Brown kept growing with it, upward, too,

Till he was known among the biggest men,

In name and body, that one heard of then.

But in that time his memory often strayed

Back to the old home that he had betrayed —

Or felt he had — and sometimes he would dare

To ask of neighbors for the old folks there;

Wondered how they considered his high fame,

Or if they ever spoke his truant name,

And thought he'd like again to go and say:

"I've brought the backlog, father," the old way,

And hear the words the old man always said:

"Then put it on the fire, and go to bed."

At length, with many a queer, misgivin' wrack;
The Judge resolved that he would venture back,
And filled a sleigh of more than common size
With things to take the old folks by surprise —
For 't was the day precedin' Christmas day,
Just ten years since young Tom had run away.
'T was evenin' when he reached the cabin home;
He saw the firelight flickerin' in the room,
And felt a rush of memories round his heart,
Which bounded in his breast when, with a start.
He saw that backlog lyin' by the door,
Just where it lay ten Christmas Eves before,
Some worn of weather, but no less of weight
Than when he left it to uncertain fate.
The Judge stole softly to the window pane —
Forgot his fame, and was a boy again,
When, in her same old country-spun attire
He saw his mother sittin' by the fire,

268

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

And just across the leapin', sinkin' blaze,

His father, grim as in his younger days.

Both now grown gray, they mused there all alone,

As calm as if they ne'er had had a son.

The Judge stepped back; his strength had doubly grown

Since he had left that couple there alone;

He raised the log; the monstrous load he bore

Without a stumble to the cabin door

And threw it open wide, then paused to say:

"I've brought the backlog, father," the old way.

His mother smiled; the old man never turned

His eyes from where the sinking faggots burned.

"You've been a long time getting it," he said.

"Now put it on the fire, and go to bed."

THE DISINHERITED

By George Du Bois

CITY OF MEXICO

IN a small chamber on the sixth floor,
Belle labored, solitary, courageous,
near an open window shadowed by the
eaves, that only permitted an uninspir-
ing view of a series of rusty roofs.

Her nimble fingers transformed like
magic the pile of wire forms lying before
her into hats and bonnets for feminine
wear. With marvelous dexterity, she
arranged the material, cut it with mathe-
matical precision, stitched it in place,
after which she added ribbon, flowers
or plumes, and the carcass became an
elegant coiffure that would figure credit-
ably next day in the show windows of
a grand establishment.

The girl raised the hat in order to
contemplate it carefully at a proper dis-
tance, gave it a finishing touch here and
there so as to render it more chic, and,
satisfied at last, arose to place it on the
bed beside the others already trimmed;
then, returning to her seat, she seized
another form and resumed mechanically
the transformation.

Thus, in solitude, Belle passed her

days, engaged in her ceaseless labor,
one of those courageous bees of the
great city, who in their humble hives
elaborate the honey destined for the
luxury of the more fortunate.

Belle, of all the girls employed by
a great establishment, was the most
active, most dexterous and persevering.
And there was need of it. Orphan by
decease of both parents, she was de-
pendent upon her own efforts for sup-
port, and while her tastes were of the
most modest and her necessities re-
stricted to the indispensable merely, yet
she must satisfy them, as well as provide
for the poor old grandmother confined
yonder in the asylum for incurables.

She was accustomed to visit her aged
relative every Thursday and Sunday,
and in order to provide for her needs,
as well as to regale her with certain
delicacies that the grandmother ex-
pected, poor Belle often deprived her-
self of the bouquet or the bonbons that
she loved so much.

Despite all, by force of constant
efforts, the valiant seamstress made

THE DISINHERITED

269

ends meet, never succumbing 'neath the
weight of care, never allowing a com-
plaint to escape her lips.

At times, however, the needle would
fall from her fingers and the bonnet
remain unfinished in her lap, while her
gaze would wander dreamily away be-
yond the prosaic housetops to the fresh
park, where the sunlight played with
the leaves and the birds caroled joyously.

At such times her eyes reflected an
infinite longing, a rebellious sob would
issue and her tired head would fall upon
her breast with a movement of infinite
discouragement.

Did she envy the rich, who in their
gaily illuminated homes appeared to
make of life a dream of joy and pleasure?
Was she jealous of the fortunate ones
for whom she labored incessantly and
who paraded so gaily their fine costumes
at fetes of which she could only form an
idea?

Yes, Belle was jealous, Belle was envi-
ous, Belle suffered.

But it was not due to deprivation of
pleasures, the desire of fortune, or the
appetite of an exaggerated ambition.
She envied those, all those, who could
taste the sweets of love, the spouses who
passed, beaming proudly, on the arm of
their husbands, the mothers who car-
essed the silky locks of their infants, of
all that tenderness, those infinite pleas-
ures that in her she felt would cause
a wild joy: a destiny prohibited to her,
a felicity she would never know.

Once, five years ago, a kind neighbor
had approached her to propose a marri-
age with a young man whom Belle had
never met. She lent herself to it with
all the naive impulses of a heart longing
for love. In that humble class arrange-
ments are not difficult, and the neighbor
promptly arranged a meeting between
her two young friends.

The young man proved agreeable to
Belle, but after they had parted, she
heard him say outside, through the door
left ajar, to the neighbor who had intro-

duced them to one another: "No, no,
madame, I can never do it; she is
too ugly!"

Then, once more in her own chamber,
she had regarded herself in the mirror,
not with coquetry, but critically, with
terror. That examination sufficed. She
comprehended and wept for hours.

Belle was plain, very plain, even ugly.
She did not possess even that freshness
of youth which often renders charming
the plainest of faces. By a caprice of
nature, which accentuated the irony of
her name, she had been given irregular
features, a yellow skin, protruding eyes
of unequal size that emerged 'neath
heavy brows, lending to her face an air
of acrimony in complete disaccord with
her gentle disposition. A flat nose, a
mouth too large and irregular, hair rude
and of uncertain color, a massive form
without grace, shoulders too high, arms
too long, hands too large, completed that
unprepossessing exterior.

Who could have divined the fine spirit
'neath that mask almost gross, gentleness
neath those harsh features; and in that
inexpressive visage, wherein no charm
corrected the vulgarity, who would have
supposed a susceptible tenderness of the
most exquisite delicacy?

She alone knew her moral worth, for
she was sensitive and retiring. She
knew well the sweet fruit concealed
within that rugged bark. But humanity
is such that strangers, even those pos-
sessed of excellent intentions, note first
the bark, without estimating the quality
of the fruit it bears, and they reflect, like
her pretendant on that unhappy day:
"She is too ugly!"

She must stifle the desire for love that
devoured her heart; she must, by reason
of her ugliness, bid adieu to all hope of
intimate happiness; and, because care-
less nature had constructed her figure in
one way in place of another, she must
not allow to escape the waves of tender-
ness that she felt throbbing within her.

And here was where the resignation of

270

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

the biave girl failed her. Never a pro-
test against that existence of labor and
devotion had ever disturbed her; never
a base envy for the riches of others.
But to love, to be loved! No proposi-
tion had ever been made to her after her
unhappy adventure, and she divined that
the few families with whom she was
acquainted repeated, in speaking of her
secretly, the word, cruelly exact, that she
had overheard her sole pretendant
utter.

Time passed, and in place of bringing
a salutory amelioration, as it does some-
times, only accentuated the physical im-
perfections of poor Belle.

One day during one of her periods of
desperate discouragement, she had, like
those sufferers who tire of the ineffectual
treatment of regular physicians, recourse
to an empiric remedy; after having
made at least twenty scrawls, weighed
and reweighed all the terms, she sent
to a journal the following "personal:"

"Young orphan girl, laborious, self-
supporting, but weary of solitude and
lack of affection, would marry a man in
like condition. She desires to state in
all candor that she is very plain. Ad-
dress: B. F. Office, 649."

Then she waited.

She received several replies, some
mocking, some improper. From the
first lines, she comprehended and de-
stroyed them. Only one letter remained,
which she opened with palpitating heart

and read:

"Miss: I have read your personal, —
many times. What touches me is your
candor. I reply with equal frankness.
I also am very plain. Due to that, I
am, what I divine you to be, — disin-
herited by nature.

"My position is modest, like your own.
I am professor in a public institution. I
have, like you, an ardent desire for com-
pany and affection. Let us meet and
converse on the subject like honest peo-
ple. Perhaps we may decide.

"I am at liberty only on Saturday

afternoons and Sundays. You may fix
time and place for the meeting, to suit
your convenience.

"I pray of you to address your letter
to place indicated below, for, confiding
in your loyalty, as I hope you will in
mine, I give you my real name, — which
is not pretty— just as I have given you
my real address.

"Accept, Miss, the expression of my
respect. ADOLPHUS PIGOUT."

Her heart palpitated, just as the hearts
of others more fortunate have palpitated
when they received the first love letter.

Was it not for her, poor girl, the first
love letter that she had ever received?
The tone of the letter pleased her. She
discerned in it the same sincerity that
she had manifested in preparing her
"personal." The similiarity of their
misfortunes formed between her corre-
spondent and herself the first tie. She
was happy that he was plain; she found
joy also in his ridiculous name.

And hers? Her baptismal name was
Belle, which, considering her person,
was ridiculous; but, in addition to that,
her surname was Fairview. What sar-
casm of fate had given her those names
so contradictory to the reality and which
had caused her, on the part of ungener-
ous companions in shops where she had
labored, so many cutting remarks?

She mounted the stairs to her cham-
ber, her heart full of joy. There was in
the city a man who thought of her.
From her window she regarded for a
long time the hideous range of roofs,
where the sunlight seemed to dance
with joy, then resumed her labor with
a song on her lips.

Ill

Adolphus Pigout was the worst built
being that one could imagine. One
might well say that nature had composed
him of two parts entirely dissimilar. He
had a small body and legs like a crane.
Seated, he appeared almost a dwarf;
standing, he had the stature of a giant.
His arms, proportioned to the length of

THE DISINHERITED

271

his body, were ridiculously short. Added
to these strange proportions, he was thin
as a skeleton. His pupils, terrible boys,
had nicknamed him, with startling pre-
cision, "the kangaroo." He had, like
that quadruped, a long, pointed visage
flanked by two enormous, protruding
ears. If we add that his nose was long,
that his hair was lusterless, his eyes so
small that one must search for them
'neath his hirsute brows, the reader will
readily comprehend that he was in truth
no Adonis. His every movement evi-
denced those physical defects, making
him appear maladroit, even grotesque.
Spiritually, one might define him with
two words: timidity, kindness.

Is it necessary, after this description,
to say that his profession, more so than
any other, caused him veritable suffer-
ing? Boys are rarely generous in deal-
ing with the defects of others, and,
united, they are cruel, at times even
barbarous. The name of the professor,
joined with his physical imperfections,
gave the cue for the invention of innum-
erable naughty gibes. But he accepted
all that with unfailing patience and per-
petual serenity, for his martyrdom lasted
only a few weeks after the annual open-
ing of the school. His gentle conduct
succeeded in every case in triumphing
over the malicious little devils who
joined forces to make him suffer.

He had neither relatives nor friends.
The first were all dead, while those who
would have been his friends, especially
his colleagues, drew apart from him by
reason of a false shame to be seen in the
company of so ridiculous a figure.

His daily duties ended, Adolphus
entered his humble abode, where he
read, reflected, yea, often wept, alone.
For in that narrow chest beat a heart
of gold hungering for love and con-
genial society, of which it felt itself con-
demned to be forever deprived. He

was so ugly!

Belle and Adolphus arranged a ren-

dezvous in a quiet park. There was no
necessity for them to exchange any sign
of cognition. They divined one another
mutually, by reason of their respective
ugliness. Each of them at first, upon
seeing the other, stifled a sigh, last
regret of that innate taste for the beau-
tiful which resides in all human beings;
then each reflected upon his and her
defects and smiled.

At first their embarrassment was great,
but once exchanging the current formali-
ties, the conversation quickly assumed
a sympathetic tone. They were two
simple, loyal souls, two hearts pene-
trated with an identical longing for so-
ciety, tenderness, that spoke and tarried
not in comprehending that if mother
nature had been cruel to both in giving
them such envelopes, she had also
been prodigal in according them beau-
tiful souls. And with that comprehen-
sion, they remained a long time, a very
long time, sincere, charmed.

Upon their arrival there the prome-
naders had gazed in fascinated astonish-
ment at the assemblage of so much ugli-
ness. When they left the spot their
faces were radiant, transformed to such
a degree that one would have called
them beautiful by force of the marvelous
change that the joy of appreciation, love
and hope can operate in the dullest
visage.

The next day those two were married.
During their entire lives, in all that
great city they had never before encoun-
tered sincere interest and love, and that
united them with an indissoluble bond.
They pass many who are more beautiful,
many people who are richer, many who
believe themselves happy, but none are
more so in all that goes to make up the
beauty, the riches, the felicity of the
soul, than those two, one-time disin-
herited, now happy creatures.

Both have comprehended that the only
veritable, durable beauty is that radiated
by the soul, from which issues the only
true and durable love.

GEORGE MEREDITH— A STUDY

By Leonie Oilman

ES, CALIFORNIA

"I fear yet this iron .yoke of outward conformity hath left a slavish print upon our necks ;
the ghost of a linen decency yet haunts us."— Milton: "Essay on Divorce."

"Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist." — Emerson.

T*HE nineteenth century has been springing up, the many "isms" of the

* called the age of individualism. day that are raising their rebellious

The numberless new sects that are standards against the existing order of

GEORGE MEREDITH — A STUDY

273

things and penetrating with their revolu-
tionary doctrines into all parts of the
social structure, are but expressions of
the spirit of nonconformity. Custom no
longer means sanction. If the custom
is not good, let us make a better one,
say the revolutionists of today. Away
with dead forms, away with hypocrisy
and cant. "Reality" as opposed to
"nominality" is the order of the day.
And shall we be surprised that the first re-
sult of the search for reality has been, in
literature, realism, with all that the word
has come to imply of shameless inquisi-
tiveness, irreverent familiarity, garish
vulgarity placarded across a vast dead
wall of materialism? "Peruse your real-
ists"— writes George Meredith — "really
your castigators for not having yet em-
braced philosophy," i. e., the study of
the laws of Nature in her manifold
aspects. Nature is the proper study of
philosophy, the living plant with the sap
coursing through it, not the botanical
specimen. "As she grows in the flesh
when discreetly tended, Nature is unim-
peachable, flower-like, yet not too deco-
ratively a flower; you must have her
with the stem, the thorns, the roots and
the fat bedding of roses."

Meredith is a nonconformist, and he
stands out boldly as the opponent of
conventionalism. There is something
Carlyle-like in the independent ring of
many of his phrases. He hates sham.
He is continually crusading against the
false sense of delicacy that dares not
look upon Nature for fear of being
shocked, that would rather suffer untold
corruption than soil its hands in the
attempt to get rid of corruption. "Im-
agine the celestial refreshment of having
a real decency in the place of sham," he
cries. Nature, great all-embracing
Nature, "mother of mighty harmonies"
— how often and how loudly he pro-
claims his delight in her. He would
fashion his books out of such stuff as
Nature uses, molding it in her own
right queenly manner. And indeed, in

the scope and breadth of his treatment
as well as in the boldness and richness
of his language there is felt not merely
the original and brilliant writer, but the
really broad, much-embracing mind.
One is sure not to find life painted in
a monotone by him, sure that he will try
to catch many of the colors of this
"dome of many-colored glass." He
realizes the complexity of our human
nature, containing as it does much of the
earthly as well as the divine. A close
and subtle analysis of psychological
phenomena, tracking actions to their
motives with unerring instinct, tracing
the wayward involutions of thought with
unwearied patience, — that is the method
of his work. "The brain stuff of fiction
is internal history," he writes. But in
his case a taste for pyschological analy-
sis does not, as with so many writers,
mean that the public are to have thrust
upon them the spectacle of the dissec-
tion of the writer's personality — a species
of exercise leading fatally around to
morbidness on the part of the writer and
weariness on that of the reader.

Perhaps it is Meredith's humor that
saves him from that. Humor with its
quick sense of the ridiculous laughs at
the pompous strut of egoism. Humor,
the broad, Shakespearian humor, the
"laughter of the gods" as Meredith calls
it, keeps things in their true proportion,
gives us a perspective as it were by
drawing us back out of the gigantic
shadow of the little personality.

Humor, moreover, tempers satire,
which too often arises from bitterness
of spirit and is always personal in tone.
In only one of Meredith's novels, "The
Egoist," have I found that sort of
relentless satire which pursues its prey
to the death, tearing off its covering
shred by shred and then tossing it con-
temptuously aside. The treatment is so
cruel here that, in spite of its being no
more than the hero's just deserts, we are
inclined to pity him. True, egoism, the
fault chastised, is one that our human

274

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

nature is most subject to, and perhaps
nothing but the most drastic measures
can ever eradicate it.

But usually Meredith is kindly in tone.
Though he laughs at sentimentality —
"pinnacle-flame of sensualism" he calls it
— and again, "Sentimentalists fiddle har-
monics on the string of sensualism" —
he has a deep reverence for real feeling.
Humor and pathos come closely to-
gether. The deep well-spring of feeling
bubbles in laughter and overflows in
tears. It is the power of emotion that
distinguishes rich from poor natures.
Even the tropical redundancy of the
foliage of passion gives proof of the
richness of the soil underneath. What
monastic ascetic is that who would teach
us to stamp out passion as a thing un-
holy? The - love scenes of Meredith
vibrate with passion. Emilia writes to
her lover: "Come on a swift horse. The
thought of you galloping to me goes
through me like a flame that hums." O,
the romantic tenderness of that boy and
girl love in "Richard Feveril," of the
fresh morning fruit of love with the dew
still on it. "The young who avoid that
region" (of Romance), says Meredith,
"escape the title of fool at the cost of
a celestial crown."

With his conception of Nature as liv-
ing, throbbing and palpitating beneath
the touch, with his diligence in the study
of her and his perennial spring of
humor, George Meredith has created for
us in his novels a series of flesh and
blood men and women rivalled by no
other living writer. And it is no slight
praise to say that his women are as good
as his men, if not better.

For there are few among our great
novelists who have given us any adequate
conception whatever of women, or taken
the least trouble to distinguish the par-
ticular from the type. George Eliot has
indeed given us good, all-around women.
Charlotte Bronte's women are quite
wonderful, but — aren't they simply lyri-
cal embodiments of her own passionate

nature? Thackeray and even more
especially Dickens are wofully lacking
in good women characters. Meredith
has the honor of being preeminent in
his treatment of women: indeed he has
been called the "ultra feminine Mr.
Meredith." He has a power that is
really marvelous of throwing himself
into women's feelings and analyzing
their motives of action. He makes his
women think, too. "The motive life
with women must be in the head equally
with men." His women one feels all
along are essentially feminine, not men
masquerading as women. The subtle
shades of feminine character are admir-
ably brought out. He patiently sets to
work to analyze the so-called caprices
and moods of women, due, according to
him, to women's more delicate nervous
susceptibility to outside influences, to
their quicker habit of thought, rather
than to mere volatility of character, as
men often erroneously suppose.

It would be interesting to make a
special study of his women. One might
find a list of heroines that would com-
pare with Shakespeare's. Emilia, with
her passionate intensity of feeling, her
childlike simplicity and "straightfor-
wardness of soul, (droiture d'ame)
matches Juliet, Shakespeare's "loveliest
girl figure." And Clara Middleton in
"The Egoist" might be compared with
Rosalind. There is an exquisite reserve
in the treatment of Clara Middleton — of
the elusive lights and half lights of her
character. The lighter touches too are
good. "She had the look of the nymph
that has gazed too long on the faun and
has unwittingly copied his lurking lip
and long, sliding eye." Of Emilia he
says: "Her face was like the sunset
across a rose garden, with the wings of
an eagle poised outspread in flight."

Diana Warwick is perhaps the greatest
of his women creations, surely a
favorite with him. She is certainly a
glorious type of womanhood, with her
superabundant vitality, her fresh, strong

GEORGE MEREDITH — A STUDY

275

intellect, her delightful wit and humor
and the general warmth of tone of her
whole nature. Meredith has here at-
tempted the difficult task of creating a
witty and clever woman who really says
witty and brilliant things — and he has
succeeded. The dialogue is splendid.
The racy Irish wit, the overflowing
humor, steeped in emotion, the nervous
concentration and vividness of language
are sustained throughout. Among less
admirable women but admirably treated
may be mentioned the Countess in
"Evan Harrington," a sort of second
Becky Sharp, though not really wicked
— simply a very clever intriguer. What
a cleverly arranged thing that book
("Evan Harrington") is, by the way,
from the mere point of view of tech-
nique. As a general thing, Meredith's
technique is good. The stories are well
arranged as to plot, there is sufficient
incident to make them interesting from
that point of view alone, and his manage-
ment of plot and incident as a means of
bringing out character is splendid.
"Evan Harrington," as I have said, is
particularly clever. The book is full of
incidents. The plot centers in the at-
tempts of the Countess to conceal her
origin — she is a tailor's daughter who
has married a Spanish nobleman — and
to act the grand lady. We laugh at her
languid affectation of aristocratic man-
ners, her assumed foreign accent, her
choice vocabulary culled from the long-
est words in "Johnson's Dictionary."
We are forced to admire her talent for
intrigue, the indefatigable energy with
which she pushes her plans, the way in
which she rises to every occasion and
manages to extricate herself from the
most hopeless entanglement of circum-
stances. There is not so much philoso-
phizing in this book as in most of the
others, and very little description. The
characters are brought out chiefly by
incidents and in the conversation.

In the matter of style Meredith has
often been criticised, with some degree

*u i

BOX HILL.

OORKlrfG,

(»»,

c <**v

-Aoiv/ *>-

M(» v»is

A LETTER FROM MEREDITH.
To Miss Nora Senior, a young girl who wrote asking
for his autograph : "DEAR Miss NORA, — Although
I have ceased to send autographs, I am moved to com-
ply with your wish, probably because you are so young
— too young as yet to be reading ' Diana of the
Crossways.' Bear in mind that Nature abhors

276

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

precociousness, and has the habit of punishing
it; so in the mean lime give a good part of
your leisure to healthy walks and games."

of justice, as being too metaphorical,
too extravagant, too far removed from
the ordinary usage of language. It is
claimed that in the attempt to be origi-
nal he has often become unintelligible.
There is no doubt that in his earlier
works — take for example "Richard
Feveril" — he is much simpler than in
his later works, of which "One of Our
Conquerors" is a very good example.
The question is whether he gains or
loses by the departure from simplicity.
Meredith defends himself by saying that
fiction does not "demand a smooth sur-
face,—" that "any mediaeval phantasy
of clothing" suits it as well as classical
robes. If simplicity is synonymous with
the commonplace, with sameness, we
should rejoice that one has come to lift
us out of the dead level of monotony-
even though it be on a winged steed
whose swift flight into the dizzy regions
of poetry inspires terror and a swooning
of the senses in the clinging wretch.
"The poet knows that he speaks ade-
quately then only when he speaks some-
what wildly, or 'with the flower of the
mind,'" says Emerson. So long as it
is a real Pegasus, not a prodded hack.
The new-coined word or metaphor must
have the spontaneity of inspiration, and
it must be true. Meredith's language
is no doubt sometimes strained and
affected. It must indeed be difficult to
keep up that nervous tension of high
imagination. But on the whole his
language is spontaneous, is brilliant with
that richness of imagination which, like
a prism, breaks up the central thought
into a rainbow of many colors. It adds
vividness to have things so presented
to us. Facts may be stated baldly. But
the idea, the philosophy, the poetry of
the fact, is more elusive. He circles
round and round it in similes and
metaphors, gradually closing in on it

The change from the comparatively
diffuse style of the earlier works to the
condensed, highly metaphorical style of
the later work is accompanied by a
corresponding change in the thought.
Emotions and incidents give place
largely to ideas. "One of Our Con-
querors" is a sort of running commen-
tary in images and symbols on the story,
which is very simple. The style be-
comes top-heavy — I mean over-weighted
with thought. Too little attention is
paid to lucidity. I should say that
"Diana of the Crossways" combines the
advantages of the early and the later
work. The language is adequate to the
ideas.

Since Meredith always lays such stress
upon ideas, it may be well briefly to
touch upon some of his own ideas in
concluding this study of him. As I have
said above, he is a nonconformist in all
things. In politics he is with that small
but steadily increasing minority who are
not satisfied with the present social order
and who would take radical measures
for its remodeling. If not a socialist, I
should say that he approaches socialism
very sympathetically.

He stands out, too, with Ibsen and
Tolstoi and many other thinking men as
an earnest student of the problems that
beset us in this present day with regard
to the relations between men and women.
He has thrown down his gauntlet as the
champion of modern woman. And that
not in any sentimental way. He does
not tell woman that she is the cause of
most of the progress that has been made
in the world, that she has a peculiarly
exalted moral nature, that her entrance
into public life will introduce a high
standard in politics. He recognizes
woman as weak, as degraded by being
prevented the use of her functions, and he
bids her arise and throw off her chains.
She must fight her own battles, he tells
her. Does she wish men to admit her
equality with themselves? Let her prove
it. A very healthy doctrine and much

GEORGE MEREDITH — A STUDY

277

better for women than that of the senti-
mentalists. He helps women by show-
ing his faith in them, his belief in their
ability to fight their own battles and by
showing them how to do it. He does
not minimize the difficulties that sur-
round them.

He is perhaps chiefly intent in solv-
ing the problems of women in connec-
tion with, marriage. Man's jealousy and
tyranny are constantly the subject of his
attack. "Men may have rounded Ser-
aglio Point; they have not yet doubled
Cape Turk." In his very earliest works
we see traces of his interest in women's
problems, which come to absorb him
more and more. "Diana of the Cross-
ways" is entirely the story of a brave
woman struggling against the world
— not that she has not to struggle
against her own nature too, for that
matter. "She is by no means of the
order of those ninny young women who
realize the popular conception of the
purely innocent." "I thank Heaven I
am at war with myself," exclaims Diana.

In "One of Our Conquerors" we have
the story of a woman who has taken the
"leap" out of society by leaving her
husband to live with another man. The
story is told with such sympathy, her life
seems so to justify her course, that one
does not condemn her. She, however,
never seems to get away from the
haunting sense of guilt. Her one
grand impulse of daring spent, she
retreats into the innate timidity that
has ever marked her gentle and

sensitive nature. How like a woman!
In one of Meredith's later books,
"Lord Ormont and His Aminta," (a
very dull book, by the way, quite lacking
in Meredith's usual fire) the story is
even simpler. Lord Ormont, a man of
sixty, marries a girl of twenty. She finds
him uncongenial — and certainly his treat-
ment of her is wholly indefensible —
though he is not a bad man — and
meeting with a young man who had loved
her before her marriage, she runs away
with him. No regrets or doubts as to the
justification of their course ever assail
the young couple, who live happily ever
after. It is to be supposed Mr. Meredith
has said his final word on the subject.
It is the same solution that many other
modern writers have hit upon. Whether
this simple method of cutting the knot, if
universally accepted, would be of ad-
vantage to the community at large, is an
open question. In any case it is to be
remembered, as Meredith says else-
where, that conventions protect the
weak, and that women are at present the
weaker half of humanity — aye, and in
the scale of woman's weakness put the
children, such soft and tender things!
Yet not more helpless than even the
strongest of women may be in the hours
when she walks unabashed up to the
grim Death to snatch from his hands
a new life for this world : in that
hour, let it be remembered, woman
and child are both utterly depen-
dent upon the caprice of man; and
the Mighty Convention of Marriage.

GRIEF AND JOY

By Frederic Lawrence Knowles

IT takes two for a kiss,
Only one for a sigh;

Twain by twain we marry,
One by one we die.

Joy is a partnership,
Grief weeps alone;

Many guests had Cana,
Gethsemane had one.

THE HOODOO BANK

A CHRISTMAS STORY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS

By Mary E. Fitzgerald

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

U I THINK that old bank is a regular
• hoodoo," said Susie, with tears
streaming down her face as she watched
Katherine open it and take out the hoard
of dimes and nickles and an occasional
quarter.

"I believe it is," said Katherine
grimly. "We just get so much — "and
then at sight of Jimmie's distressed face
she said cheerfully: "But don't you
care; Jimmie will look so swell in his
new coat that someone will hire him for
an ornament and then he'll put in quar-
ters instead of nickles and pennies;
won't you, Jimmie boy? Or maybe
some millionaire will stroll into the
office and fall in love with my beautiful
golden hair and aristocratic white hands,
and then mother may have gold watches
on her fingers and toes and be happy
forever after."

The four laughed, for Katherine was
so far from being a beauty that Jimmie,
who adored her, said: "The fellow in
the vaudeville who sang about his girl
being so homely that nobody wanted
her, must have been thinking of Kath-
erine;" at which everyone had laughed
except the mother, who said resentfully,
"Handsome is as handsome does; and
if anyone does handsomer than Kath-
erine, I've never seen her; she's a good,
wholesome girl, and if her hands are
like hams, Jimmie — which you're very
fond of telling her — it was working for
you that made them so."

Jimmie, conscience stricken, had tried
to pacify her, but for several days she
was distinctly cool and cooked the things
he liked least. Since then Katherine's
lack of beauty had not been the subject
for much jesting.

"I can get a good enough coat for ten

dollars,- and that will leave five eighty
to begin again with," said Jimmie.

"You'll get a good one while you're
about it," said Katherine; "and, be-
sides, you need some other things. But
I tell you this much; that bank is going
to be thrown into the alley this very
day. Our spare change after this will
go into a ginger jar or an old stocking.
Ever since I can remember this bank
has been standing on that clock shelf
just waiting and waiting for some bad
luck to come along so it might be
opened. Mother will never get a watch,
if she lives to be a hundred, if we
depend on this bank for it. I'm begin-
ning to hate the sight of it."

They looked awestruck. When Kath-
erine gave way, there must be something
very wrong indeed.

"What will mother say?" asked
Susie.

"She needn't know. We've always
prophesied that someone would steal it.
Let her think that the prophecy has
come to pass. Hateful thing!"

Katherine's chief remembrance of her
father had been his weekly ceremony of
depositing in the bank the exact amount
he had spent for tobacco during the
week, always observing, "There, mother,
your watch money is getting a big pile."

But, alas! when the bank was opened
it was to help pay his funeral expenses.
That had been eight years ago, and until
she was sixteen the struggle for bread
and butter had been such a desperate
one that there was no thought of saving
for anything.

The first deposit, three years ago, was
a nickle she had saved by walking home.
When she told the others what she
planned to do, they seconded her enthu-

THE HOODOO BANK

279

siasm stoically; but their mother never
knew why there was such joy over each
tiny addition. Harry, indeed, was
always edging around the forbidden
subject. "Watches" seemed to be the
only topic he could find to converse
with his mother upon.

"What do you want for Christmas,
ma?"

"Sure, since I can't have a watch,
I don't want anything else," was the
cheerful reply.

"But what in the world do you want
with a watch, mother? You never go
anywhere," Katherine had once said
a little impatiently.

"I'd know I had it, and I'd often
go to the Auxiliary," said the little
mother calmly. "But, sure, what's the
use of talking about it? Ever since I
was born I've wanted one. Your father
was that foolish he wanted to get me
one when we were first married, but I
held out for a home, and lucky I did.
A watch would be small comfort to me
with four children and no roof over our
heads. He bought the bank above, but
what with one thing and another, the
money always went for something else."

And for something else the children's
money went.

Susie's contributions, earned by occa-
sional dish washing for the neighbors
when they had company; little Harry's
pennies, earned by running errands;
{Catherine's and Jimmie's, saved from
lunches and car fares, had all gone to
pay for the new sidewalk.

A new fund was started. The kind of
watch had even been decided upon,
when Susie's illness came and the bank
was again emptied. Now, for the third
time, when the watch had been actually
selected, Katherine decided that Jim-
mie's shabby clothes were against him,
and that new ones must be bought if he
hoped to find work.

"Mother is so sensible about every-
thing else, I can't see why she wants
that watch so much," said Susie. "She

doesn't say anything about a watch for
herself, but she is always talking about
other people having them. She never
notices anything else."

"I suppose a watch means everything
else to her, because people who are very
poor don't have them. Poor mother
has had to work so hard, and I don't
think she ever had a luxury in her life,"
said Katherine with tears in her eyes.

"If she ever does get it, she'll never
wear it, you'll see if she does. She'll
hang it up the way she does her black
cashmere dress. She wears any old
thing when she goes out, and it's all
out of style now. I think it's a shame,
when you went without a cloak to get
it, Katherine," said Susie.

"Mother went without a great many
things for me," said Katherine simply.

"Are you really going to throw the
bank away?" said Susie.

"Yes, I'm tired of seeing it."

The bank had been gone two or three
days, when Harry, who was burdened
with a couple of pennies he had been
boarding, said: "Gee! Since the bank's
gone, I don't know where to keep my
money. I forget to give it to Katherine
to put in the stocking."

His mother gave a startled upward
glance. "What has become of it?"
she gasped. "How long has it been
gone?"

"I— I lost it in the alley," stammered
Harry.

"And what were you doing with it in
the alley?" demanded his mother, shak-
ing him. "The bank your father gave
me when I was first married and that
helped pay his funeral bills! What
were you doing with it in the alley, I
say?"

"They thought — Katherine said — it
was a hoodoo, so I went out and buried
it," sobbed the boy.

His mother threw a shawl over her
head and, taking him by the hand, led

280

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

him forth to the alley. Several places
were dug up without success.

"I'll find it if every foot of the ground
is dug with my finger nails," said Mrs.
Fleming. "Can't you remember, boy,
where you put it?"

"Where the little dog is sitting looks
like the place," wailed he. "But it was
kind o' dark, so I don't know for sure
where it was."

"Did anyone ever have such children?
To take my bank and bury it without
leave or license! But I'll show them."

Mrs. Fleming sank on her knees at
the spot where the little dog was crouch-
ing. Seeing a kindly face, with paws
against Harry's leg he dumbly begged
to be taken up.

The bank was there, and Harry, sob-
bing and half unconscious of his burden,
ran along behind his mother, snuggling
the half frozen, forlorn little animal close
to his breast.

The bank was placed on the shelf
where it had rested for the last twenty
years. Then his mother noticed the dog.

"Take that dog back where you found
it," she said sternly. "It's turning to
thieving my children are; first a bank
and then a dog. What's to become of
us at all I don't know, with such
goings on."

Harry's house to house search revealed
no owner for the dog, so the little animal
was brought home, fed, washed and
combed by the joyful boy.

The evening was not a pleasant one.
Harry and Susie wept every time they
caught sight of the stern face of their
usually cheerful mother. Katherine, in
desperation, had revealed the secret of
their savings, but with no visible effect.
James, manlike, on pretense of advertis-
ing the dog, had gone out to escape the
unpleasant atmosphere.

When he came in at ten o'clock their
mother, whom they had heard bustling
about the kitchen, appeared at the sit-
ting room door, her face wreathed in
smiles, and invited them to a feast "pre-

pared to celebrate the finding of the
bank," she said.

When the relieved four had seated
themselves with many exclamations of
delight, she went around and kissed
each one.

"I've got four of the best children in
the world,", she said. "I'll get me
watch all right some day, if it's meant
that I should have it. Instead of blam-
ing the bank for ill luck, my dearies, you
should thank God for it. If we hadn't
had it what would have become of us
at all when the hard days fell upon us?
Didn't it always open its heart like a
good friend and give us all it had? A
hoodoo indeed! But we'll say no more
about it."

"I'm glad we've got it back," said
Katherine.- "The kitchen hasn't looked
like itself without it."

The next day a gentleman and little
boy came in answer to the advertisement
for the dog. The mutual joy of dog and
b'oy was so pleasant that even Harry
wiped his tears and rejoiced at the lost
being found. The whole family laugh-
ingly refused the reward.

"If it wasn't for him — ' began the
mother, and then stopped.

"Yes?" said the gentleman inquir-
ingly, but received no reply.

"You'll allow me to buy the little boy
some candy, won't you?" said the gen-
tleman.

"Oh, yes, we've noobjection to that,"
smilingly said the mother, and Harry,
skipping along, escorted him to the
nearest store, some blocks away.

"So everybody in your family has
everything he wants," began the gen-
tleman artfully.

"Yes, I've got Tommie, my cat, and
a baseball I found, and I think I'll
be big enough to whip Billie Kline in
a couple of months, and Jimmie has a
new overcoat, so maybe he'll get a job
soon, and Susie has her bead chain, and
Katherine never wants anything but
peace and lots of it, she says, and

THE HOODOO BANK

281

mother was only joking about wanting
a watch."

"What's that?" said the gentleman
quickly.

"Why, the watch, you know, that we
were all saving up to buy."

And the lawyer, a famous cross-ques-
tioner, from that on had no difficulty in
getting the whole story, and went home
with a very well satisfied expression.

"Didn't I tell you that bank would
bring us luck?" said the mother tri-
umphantly the following day. "A watch
for me and a job for Jimmie and a

friend for all of us. Could you ask
more?"

"I suppose you'll wear it feeding the
chickens," said the delighted Jimmie.

"Go 'long with you! A watch with
a diamond, feeding the chickens! In-
deed I'll wear it only at weddings; it's
too handsome to wear to the Auxiliary,
and besides, what does a person need
of a watch there, and a clock as tall as
a man staring you in the face all the
time?"

Susie stole an "I told you" glance at
Katherine, but Katherine, an image of
pure joy, was rapturously hugging her
happy mother.

BETSY STRAWBERRY

A SKETCH FROM LIFE

By Ruth M. Harrison

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

SHE coyly responded to the name of
Betsy Strawberry. Wouldn't that
jar you! The kids nearly fell over in
a fit when they heard it. As she ex-
pressed it, "I ain't no nigga,' 'caus' I
ain't black; I'se jus' a cullud pusson."
We always suspected a strain of Indian
in her, she was so tall and straight, and
had such high cheek bones. Added to
that a firm and easy way of gliding
around that was the envy of many a girl
in our set.

Right from the corn field she came,
and when mother told her to dress the
children after she had given them their
bath, Betsy essayed to put on their shoes
and stockings with the kids standing up,
"Jus' like we was horses," said Dick the
irrepressible, after his third toppling
over on the floor.

She was very proud of her figure, and
till the last days of her life was never
known to go without stays; she was

always trim, and soon discarded her
misshapen country clothes, and under all
circumstances wore a tight fitting prin-
cess wrapper, only adding a wide belt
when she went to prayer meeting, this
her only dissipation. She never "took"
much to city ways, never went gadding
about and was always at her post early
and late. Though her work was often
shiftless, she was absolutely devoted to
her charges, and the kids just loved
their "Mammy Betsy."

As the children grew older and needed
less of her care, she took up more and
more of the housework. But every now
and then mother did have to touch her
up about her work. But you bet Betsy
was never caught napping as to an
excuse. One day mother said to
her:

"Betsy, you are getting very careless
about your work lately."

"Huccum?" said Betsy, bridling.

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

"Well, for one thing, about sweeping.
Now look at the nursery, you just give
it a lick and a promise, and the work
is not half done."

"What, me, Mis Thompson? I dun
swep' dat room ebery day dis week! I
sho did, Mis Thompson."

"Now, Betsy," said mother, in her
most conciliatory tone, "you know you
have been careless, — just look at the
dirt under that bed."

"Dirt?" said Betsy quickly. Then
stooping down and -looking under the
bed she broke into a broad smile.
"Lor", Mis Thompson, dat ain't no dirt,
honey chile, dat's jus' house moss!"

Uncle Peter was her "ole man." She
was very proud of Uncle Peter, to the
eternal wonderment of everyone who
knew her. He was a shiftless, stiff-
legged wood sawyer, old enough to be
her grandfather, but she just doted on
him, — there was no other word for it.
Uncle Peter was guilty of periodic dis-
appearances, and Betsy would mope
around like a sick calf till he would turn
up again, older, more shiftless, and
stiffer than ever. Then Betsy would
perk up, and all day we would hear her
high treble in,

"Shout, shout, Elijah ! Shout a' me home."

The girls used to receive every
Friday, and Betsy always served the
refreshments. One Friday evening there
was quite a crowd, including some visit-
ing Harvard boys, and the girls were
doing themselves proud. When it came
time to pass the refreshments, Betsy was
nowhere to be found. Finally at half
past ten she came sailing through the
hall, and Maudie caught her on the fly.

"Why, Betsy, where on earth have
been, — we've been calling and calling
you."

Betsy promptly, with a most beatific
grin and a most audible voice, made
answer: "Lor', chile, I'se been sittin'
in the lap of my beloved! Uncle Peter's
dun come back."

I wish you could have heard those
boys shout.

Mother and the girls were in the
throes of Spring cleaning, and, as the
warm weather was coming on apace,
determined on employing extra help, so
as to expedite matters. Mother asked
Betsy if she could not get some one of
her friends. Now Betsy was suffering
from a well developed case of Spring
fever — some call it "Lazy Lawrence;"
the Creoles call it la caigne. Any-
how, we Southerners are prone to it, be
we white or black, only the darkies are
more so, and you won't get a decent
lick of work out of them while it lasts.
The Strawberry was very loath to bestir
herself and go out and hunt a chore-
woman, so:

"No'm, Mis Thompson, I don' knows
nobody. Nune as I kin jus' azactly
trus'. Nune o' dem triflin' niggas wants
to wuk dese days. Dey's jus' seemen'
mo' and mo' no 'count," and she com-
fortably backed up against the door
jamb, anything but the picture of
energy. Then as an after thought: "De
dooberries is ripe — I seen a passel o'
dem dis mo'ning; a ooman done had
dem."

Well now! Lazy Lawrence and the
dewberry patch! In view of that com-
bination the case seemed hopeless in-
deed; yet mother made one more effort.

"But Eetsy, do try to think of some-
one? What has become of Liza Jane?"

"Liza Jane?" said Betsy, awakened
into momentary interest, "Liza Jane?
Oh! she ain't wukkin' jes now, she ain't
so well."

"What is the matter with her?" said
mother. "Is she sick?"

"No'm," answered Betsy, "she ain't
azactly sick — she's jus' dun had a
baby."

"What!" said mother. "Why, I
didn't know that Liza Jane was
married."

"She ain't," slowly admitted Betsy.
"No'm, she ain't married. She jus'

BETSY STRAWBERRY

283

J7 rr J J

didn't want to be er old maid!"

And this from a sister of the "Fus
Baptis' church!"

Marthy Ann, her niece, was our
washerwoman; improvident to a degree.
And nothing would rile Betsy so much
as for Marthy Ann to ask her "couldn't
she loan her a dime or so."

"Wha' dat money Mars Ben dun giv'
yo' when yo' got paid off?"

"I dun spent it all. De watermilyuns
and de pussimmons. Oh, I jus' can't git
pass de fruit stan' when Fse got de
money in mah pocket," whined Marthy
Ann.

"Huh," snorted Betsy, "Yo' cain't,

cain't yo'. Well, what I wants to know
is dis heah; huccum if yo' kin pass de
fruit stan' when yo' ain't got de money,
I sez, huccum yo' cain't pass de fruit
stan' when yo' is got de money, ste'd
o' waissen yo' money what yo' ought to
save fo' a rainy day? Dat's what I
wants to know."

These two never met without some
lively side-stepping. One morning
Marthy Ann was coming into the house
with her basket of wash and ran into
Betsy all diked out in her "Sunday
Susan" clothes.

"Fo God, Aunt Betsy, wha' yo'
gwine, all dressed up in yo' dese

284

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

heahs," queried Marthy Ann, devoured
by a mighty curiosity.

"Wha' I'm gwine?" exploded Betsy,
fixing her with a lurid stare. "Wha'
I'm gwine? I'm gwine wha' I'm gwine,
dat's wha' I'm gwine! All de time
axin' me wha' I'm gwine!"

Marthy Ann was transfixed!

Betsey's devotion to the little ones,
however, offset all of her shortcomings by
a long shot. We will never forget her
loving care of our Dolly Dimple, as we
called baby Dorothy — the pride of our
hearts. Measles, followed by pneu-
monia, threatened to baffle the skill of
our best physicians. Dolly Dimple
would not abide anyone to touch her
but her mother and Mammy Betsy —
with a slight preference for "booful
Mammy Betsy." When the mother was
worn out by days and nights of anxious
watching, (that was before the advent of
the thrice blessed trained nurse) Mammy
Betsy still held tirelessly to her post.
The fever raged; the little face was red-
hot and the labored breath came in tight
gasps — till it seemed that our darling
was doomed to be taken from us.

"Take me. Mammy Betsy," she would

plead and plead. Finally the dear old
doctor said :

"Pick herup carefully, Betsy, and hold
her close. It may quiet her restless-
ness."

Gently, lovingly she gathered up the
tiny sufferer close to her ample bosom;
the golden head nestled against the
kinky woolly one. Up and down, up
and down paced Betsy with her noise-
less tread, hour after hour, until it
seemed 'she must drop from exhaustion.
Then, little by little, the labored breath-
ing grew quieter, little by little the ner-
vous twitching grew less, and then from
Dolly Dimple, in a weak, coaxing voice:

"Sing to me, Mammy — sing to me
'bout the 'old gray goose.' "

Back and forth trod Betsy, over and
over again her clear, high treble droned
the lullaby so dear to the hearts of
Betsy's charges:

"Go tell Aujit Abbie, Abbie, Abbie, the old
gray goose is dead."

Over and over again, lower and
sweeter, till the white lids closed over
the feverish eyes, the little limbs
stretched out in comfort, and the crisis
was passed.

THEN, O GOD!

By John McGovern

Author of " The Golden Censer," " The Fireside University," " Poems," " Plays," etc.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

WHEN white-eyed Death shall fright my timid flesh,
And chase my spirit from his habitation,
May willing yet unwilling hands take me
To unoffended Nature. Then, O God!
Give me the memory of an honest man,
And unseen flowers shall keep my grave as sweet
As lilac-banks that make one narrow week
The only recollection of a year.

c_^l Dance in THG
Durab Lasi Indies

By Poultney Bigelow, F.R.G.S.

Author of "History of the German Struggle for Liberty," etc.

MUNICH, BAVARIA

U HELLO, Sergeant!"

• • It was a white man in Dutch
uniform. He looked my way and an-
swered my greeting with some words I
did not understand.

"Speak English?" I sang out.

He shook his head.

"Sprechen sie Deutsch?"

He shook his head again.

" Habla. Espanola? "

Another negative.

"Dutch?"

A few words.

"French, perhaps?"

His face brightened.

"Je suis Beige!" said he, and with
that I jumped out of my canoe and could
have thrown my arms about him for the
joy of meeting someone of the place
with whom I could talk — at last. Yes,
he was a Belgian, and serving in

the Dutch colonial army at Banda.

To my expression of surprise that he
should be here, he answered that there
were many foreigners amongst the col-
onial troops of Holland, especially Ger-
mans. The Dutch authorities asked few
questions, and so long as you didn't
have the fever too often the life was
tolerable. As to himself he had a Java-
nese "wife" — liked the service, wife in-
cluded, and next week was about to
reengage for another six years in the
army, because at the end of twelve years
he would be entitled to retire on a small
pension.

He mentioned the sum; it was so
small that I have, mislaid it — at the time
it sounded as though it would just about
pay for the daily beer of a Munich cab-
man. I did not ask him as to the rela-
tive cost of a wife in Brussels and Banda

286

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

respectively — he was not referring to
that item, however.

I had been drawn ashore here by the
sounds of native music, and certain signs
of a festive gathering. My little "Carri-
bee' ' (canoe) was surrounded by sympa-
thetic natives, who pried respectfully
into every corner of her dainty hold, but
so politely as to impress me more by
their courtesy than curiosity. To be
sure I was amongst a waterside popula-
tion, for even the soldiers here are am-
phibious. The sergeant showed me with
pride a monster canoe for about twenty
men, in which he and his little garrison
were constantly running about to differ-
ent points of the island. He was but
one of four non-commissioned officers
at the barracks, and these had under
them but a handful, some twenty to
thirty native soldiers (infantry.)

Banda is a beautiful little island on
the easternmost edges of Mahomedari-
ism. After leaving this island we round
the edges of Ceram and are amongst the
so-called Papuans, who look as much
like African negroes as Malays and
whose religion seems to be devoid of
spiritual character, resembling rather
voodoo or devil worship. Banda is,
moreover, at the foot of a great volcanic
mountain which is in a chronic state of
eruption and on the line of volcanic
vertebrae commencing with Sumatra,
traveling eastward through Java and
Lombok to Timoor, then deflecting in
a northerly direction through Banda and
Amboyna, leaving Ceram to the east
and going on through Gilolo and the
northern end of the Celebes to Min-
danao, Luzon and ultimately Japan.

My Belgian sergeant told me that
hereabouts the Dutch people were de-
lighted with the Russian war, because
they felt that the Japanese would thereby
be turned away from an alleged design
of swallowing up the Dutch colonies.

At any rate nothing seems more
reasonable than a Mikado Monroe Doc-
trine covering the Pacific Ocean along

volcanic lines from Behring Sea to
Singapore. The same volcanic thrill
that moves Java is felt in Tokyo — and
when we look at the people themselves
we can easily see why that thrill should
be political no less than seismic.

The Malay archipelago has infinitely
more interest with Japan than the Platte
and Amazon with New York. A Jap-
anese governor of Batavia would soon
feel at home.

But to return to my Belgian sergeant.

One of his corporals, a native of Am-
boyna, had just reenlisted for two years,
and so far from feeling sad over it, he
had secured permission from the com-
mandant to celebrate the event by a
grand feast regardless of expense.

How an Amboyna man, on a penny or
so a day, could give a grand feast,
seemed miraculous to me. My sergeant
explained the mystery. The reenlisted
native corporal engaged a famous Java-
nese dancing girl to come over from the
nutmeg plantation where she earned a
dollar or so a month, and to dance for
them from early in the afternoon to
somewhere near midnight. This girl
being a favorite would cost a lot of
money, maybe one or two dollars — and
her mother-in-law and sister, to say
nothing of the rest of the family, were
on hand to see that she or they received
all the pay that was her due — and theirs.
Then the native corporal had to en-
gage a band of native musicians, and
this too was expensive — another dollar
or two, possibly three. Then it was ex-
pected that he pass around refreshments
to at least some of the most important
of his guests, and that might involve
him to the extent of yet another dollar.
It looked as though this native had
involved himself in expenses that would
swallow up his pay for the whole of his
enlisted time and far beyond — and how
was he ever to get out of debt, asked I?
He went to the commanding officer and
secured the privileges of the barrack
drill ground for that one day and even-

A DANCE IN THE DUTCH EAST INDIES

287

ing — in other words, he received permis-
sion to pocket the gate money, so to
speak, — and to sell gambling privileges
sufficient to cover all the expense of
orchestra, dancing girl, free drinks and
possibly leave something over for him-
self.

I counted at least twelve mats devoted
to gambling — a Malay Monte Carlo con-
ducted very quietly and politely. The
gamblers were men for the most part,
though at some mats I saw Javanese
ladies whose husbands had giyen them
money to stake — possibly the husbands
were at that moment on sentry duty.

This was a military festival in the
sense that the host was a soldier and
none but soldiers were to appear save
by special invitation. I was the only
civilian present, and for this I must
express thanks to my Belgian sergeant.

Gambling is the same the world over
— a pile of coin, a circle of humans
seeking to suppress the hungry look in
their otherwise dull faces, a croupier
who pushes the money to one side or the
other — this you can see anywhere in
Europe, or at Macao, or at Jahore, or
Borneo or Banda.

Here were no Chinamen, and no white
men save my sergeant and myself — in-
deed on Banda are but a few Chinese
shopkeepers; the coolies are Malays,
natives of the islands, for the work is
fairly light.

I was about to say goodbye to my ser-
geant and paddle further, when I heard
the sound of the native orchestra, so I
stayed. The music was on the stoop of
what had been the military prison, a
broad verandah of smooth cement railed
off by thick bamboo poles, so that the
audience might not press too closely
upon the performers. At one end of the
veranda squatted four dusky natives.

One had before him the most import-
ant piece of all, that might correspond
to the cymbal of a Hungarian band. It
consisted of six copper jars with a knob
an inch in diameter at the top of each

lid. Each jar, about six to nine inches
in diameter, was laid separately on a
species of net made of malacca or bam-
boo thongs. The whole looked from a
distance like a table decked with a ser-
vice of half a dozen round brass soup
tureens.

The leader struck these brass or cop-
per vessels with two sticks, one in each
hand. The stick was about a foot long
and as thick as a New York policeman's
day club, but of sottish wood. The
sound was chime-like.

Sometimes he struck the knob, some-
times the other part, sometimes both
almost simultaneously — he was playing
at four o'clock when I first arrived; he
was playing when I finally went home.
He played with scarce an interruption,
the beads of sweat burst out over every
part of him, but he seemed very happy,
especially when I sent a ginger colored
boy to drop some coins into a brass
bowl in front of him, and into which the
warriors dropped certain sums when they
wished to show their approval or desired
to dance with the famous Javanese
danseuse.

But I am anticipating.

Another native who sat on the leader's
left played on an arrangement suggest-
ing a xylophone piano. Behind him sat
another who had some metal strips upon
which he played after the like manner.
On the leader's right was a man who
had a long drum on his lap — all these
players were squatted on the ground.
This long drum he patted with his flat
hand so cleverly that he could produce
considerable variety of tone, and he
kept up a monotonous time movement
which finished by so hypnotising me that
I felt as though I could have stayed on
without ever wearying of it. There was,
behind these four, one who had charge
of two big gongs which lent weight to
some of the passages.

It was savage or barbarous music in
so far as we call everything barbaric
that is strange or incomprehensible to

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

us. I, at least, enjoyed it hugely. But
then methinks I have a partiality for
strange music. Once, in Tokyo, I lis-
tened night after night to a beautiful
Japanese lady of blessed memory. It
was a cruel fate that drew my visit to
a close. She played and sang to me
symphonies, operas, native lyrics of
great depth and range of sentiment — so
she said.

Likewise I have listened for hours to
Scottish bagpipes — they must be played
outdoors by marching soldiers, with a
fine wind blowing. The fife and drum
too have their own fascination, provided
there are many drums skillfully handled.
And then that weirdest of all drumming
— the Moorish music with the wailing
minor and the everlasting dull thump,
thump of the tomtom — nothing would
seem more barbarous in description, yet
many who revel in Wagner can also find
fascination if not elevation in the rhyth-
mic melodies of Berber tribes.

This orchestra of Banda had more of
melody than most so-called barbarous
music; the sound of the wood upon the
brass tureens produced an effect which
upon me at least acted as a magnet,
strong enough to hold me in one spot for
more hours than any opera that I have
so far ventured into.

Then that little Java lady — she came
demurely across the drill ground from
the barrack room where she had been
dressing. She was of the Japanese stan-
dard in height, slight yet plump enough,
graceful, modest. Her little bare feet
slipped softly back and forth from under
her gorgeous native petticoat (sarong),
which is here but a gauzy strip of
many-colored, silky material, and which
is tucked in about the waist without
the trouble of buttons, seams or pins.

She wore a very coquettish little
basque or waist, or what a man might
regard as a feminine cummerbund belt,
reaching from the waist nearly to her
arm pits, just covering one portion of
her breasts, but leaving her shoulders

and arms untrammelled in order that she
might as freely as possible express her
emotions through the gentle swaying of
her body in general, and her arms and
hands in particular.

When she stepped onto the stoop it
was with the simplicity of a child uncon-
scious of any audience. With the first
move of her beautiful arms I felt myself
back in Japan again — this seemed a part
of that empire — her manner, her every
pose suggested dances I had seen in
Kyoto, and the behavior of this little
plantation slave suggested the blood of
Japanese samurai in her veins.

Who can describe a dance! We dance
in order to awaken feelings which we
cannot or dare not express aloud. It is
a form of entertainment consecrated by
thousands of years, and will go on to the
end of the world along with the one
emotion linked with it — the attraction of
woman to man.

Our own dancing is coarse compared
with this of the far East, where human
nature is more complex, more subtle.

My little Javanese queen made every
gesture so faintly as almost to escape
note by one of my poor atrophied senses.
When she moved her eyes it was just
enough — when she moved a hand it was
but a suggestion — her body swayed but
a shade, but in that shade was the stroke
of a master.

Each Malay warrior clamored for the
honor of being her partner, and always
on the same motive, "Love — love — and
don't you wish you may succeed!"

This Javanese dancing retains that
element which only Hungarians preserve
in Europe — carrying out dramatically
and with musical accompaniment,
couple by couple, the alternate hopes
and fears, the wailing lamantations, the
passionate bursts of anger, the mad yell
of triumph, the pantomime involved in
our greatest of dances, the Csardasch of
the gallant Magyar.

My little plantation princess swayed
and waved her beautiful arms, spread

A DANCE IN THE DUTCH EAST INDIES

289

her exquisite fingers, raised ever so
gently her shapely shoulders, turned so
gracefully that one might have sworn
she floated — her eyes too did now and
then take their part in the dance, but
most discreetly.

The dancing warrior did his part by
moving to the sound of the orchestra,
manifesting his eagerness to conquer the
beautiful prize, and showing dramatic-
ally his grief and sometimes despair
when she gracefully and coyly slipped
past him and then turned to sing him
a line or two, sometimes sarcastic, some-
times mildly encouraging. The lover
wore a thin scarf about his neck; it
hung to his feet, and was used for the
purpose of giving grace to his compara-
tively ungainly motions. His hands and
arms performed most of the pantomime,
and ignorant as I was and blunted as
to my senses, I could not miss the
general purpose of these dramatic passes.

The dance closed always in about the
same way, and this was symbolized by
the lover tossing his scarf over her head
in token of triumph. The number of
times that my sweet little princess suc-
cumbed to the scarf capture was bewil-
dering from an ethical point of view.

One warrior inspired her to some par-
ticularly fine effects. It carried even me
out of my habitual coldness, and I sent
her a piece of jewelry which happened
to be in my pocket. This seemed to
please her, and still more the sister, who
acted as family treasurer, for she craned
her neck around for a good look at me,
showed all her handsome teeth in a
happy smile and stowed my trifle care-
fully away.

Of course it would have been highly
unprofessional for this diva to have
stepped outside of her role of oriental
calm— she rarely looked at the audience,
and then only when it was necessary to
languidly sweep her haughty gaze round
to measure her distance from the danc-
ing partner whose embrace she intended
to elude.' But this bit of jewelry was

something so quite outside of her bar-
rack life experience, coming too on top
of some money put into the brass dish
which represented more than her planta-
tion earnings for several months, that I
saw her little mouth twitching with the
desire to expand into a smile of triumph.
I saw her less fortunate acquaintance
look at her with envy, and the Belgian
sergeant whispered to me:

" Prenez garde! she may ta-ke a
fancy to you — what have you done!"

It seemed that I had quite gone be-
yond what the dramatic profession
anticipated in this section of the East
Indies, for the little danseuse from now
on seemed to dance with one eye in
our direction. However, the native
regiment, or what there was of it on
Banda, were happy in their share of the
pleasure. One man had had the beri
beri and was convalescent. So carried
away was he with the excitement that he
itched to have his fling with the witching
lady, but he had no money.

So for the sake of seeing how a beri
beri convalescent manages to recover
the use of his limbs, I slipped half a
gulden into his hand, and this he
promptly had changed into a pocketful
of copper, and then he managed to work
off a dozen dances to the huge delight
of himself, his partner and the audience,
with whom he was obviously a favorite.

I was struck by his good dancing — the
immense reality of his acting, so to
speak — when she turned away and
seemed to spurn him, yet with languish-
ing eyes, his attitude of tragic despair
was a finished bit of acting, and when
she gave him hope the blaze in his eye
was too real to be mere mimicry.

My sergeant whispered to me:
" Voyez vous, M'sieur! That lad
is from Amboyna— 'elle etait sa mait-
resse' —but that was before her present
marriage!" And it seemed that some
of the old feeling was still there. The
first marriage may have been for love,
the last one a family arrangement.

290

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

Never did a premier danseuse dance
so long or more gracefully than this little
Banda belle — a beautiful creature she
was, as I look back now on that moon-
light night under the palms and nutmeg
trees.

Nominally a slave, she was easily the
queen of that garrison; nominally a
coolie girl, she had more of real life than
any princess at any court of Europe, bar
Saxony; nominally a plantation drudge,
she was in reality exercising daily the
muscles which conduced most to her
health and happiness; nominally earn-
ing but the mere sufficiency of a serf,

yet she was rich in comparison to all
about her, and after all, what is it to be
rich? — is it more than the power to love
and be loved in return?

When I came to leave that scene it
was with many mixed feelings — the
elder sister came down to the beach
where little Caribee lay impatient. She
came on behalf of the little dancer —
would I take her along in my boat? I
said I was going far away — she did not
care; I said my boat was frail and she
might come to harm — she did not care.
I said — well, I forget ?11 I said that
night.

FLOWERMAN AND STARLIGHTER

By Shannon Birch

HANOVER, KANSAS

Where nature is a common book
Of peaceful skies, of spreading leas,

Of plow-urned field, of quie nook,
Of spires amid green rees.

THE doctor when reminiscent could
call to mind at almost every house
in Prophet Town, as he made his pro-
fessional rounds, the death of an occu-
pant; sometimes the memory was of the
old, sometimes of the young. In a quar-
ter of a century death had entered every
dwelling on the principal street of Pro-
phet Town, so remembered the doctor
one evening in September, as lie slowly
drove to his home at one end of the
street, when the sun seemed setting but
a mile away in a lane of ripening corn
that led westward out of town. In all
that street no house had escaped the
visitations of death, except one other
and the doctor's, where the doctor
during the years of his ministra-
tions in Prophet Town had lived alone.

The other exception to the mortuary
generalizations of the doctor, as applied
to Poplar street in Prophet Town, was
the dwelling house at the other end of
the street from the doctor's, the last
before taking the prairie east from Pro-
phet Town. In this lived Rose Temple,
spinster, benefactress and friend of
every soul in the town. In all the years
of his daily itinerary the doctor had
not crossed Rose Temple's hospitable
threshold. It was true, as the doctor
knew, that his absence was not the
result of inadvertence, but of design.

When at last the doctor was summoned
to Rose Temple's he proceeded there
with no less agitation than if he had sud-
denly been called to the bar of heaven.

As he reached the sick-room his feel-

FLOWERMAN AND STARLIGHTER

291

ings became supreme. When ushered
in and left alone with his patient she
lifted a hand and said in tones of celes-
tial kindness:

"Felix."

The doctor knelt by the bedside, his
bosom bursting with sobs. Rose Temple
gently stroked his hair, soothing him
with her touch. When calmness fol-
lowed the patient said:

"The years have been so long, Felix;
and I am about to depart. I could not
go on without reconciliation. I have
a malady that is beyond human control.
I have concealed its inroads. I have
been compelled to succumb at last. I
am sure the end is near. 1 sent for you
to be reconciled and to say farewell in
peace!" Rose, with a modest move-
ment, disclosed the seat of her malady.
The doctor viewed it with eyes stream-
ing with renewed tears. His breast
heaved with suppressed anguish as he
exclaimed:

"O, Rose, the madness, the madness
of it; the long, long years; the long,
long, wasted years!"

Rose again placed her hand on the
doctor's head and replied:

"Yes, long, long years, Felix; but not
wasted years.

"The good you have done — '

"No, no, they have been wasted
years!"

When the doctor had again regained
calmness he remained long at the bed-
said, and when about to depart Rose
said:

"Please do not forget to send a seda-
tive, Felix. I think I can sleep tonight,
with a little aid. Take little Janet with
you; she will return with it safely."

The doctor returned to his office with
his faculties absorbed in the incidents of
the hour. To arouse himself from this
state, while mixing the potion that little
Janet was to carry back to Rose, he said
whimsically to his small attendant, who
was almost invisibly seated in his big
office chair:

"Jack the Giant Killer was a great
fellow, wasn't he?"

"Yes," answered Janet, "but I like
Flowerman and Starlighter better."

"Who, may I ask, are Flowerman and
Starlighter?"

"It's a story Auntie Rose tells me.
Auntie Rose says she is Starlighter,
maybe; but she says Flowerman is just
nobody, she guesses."

"Tell me the story, won't you?"

"O, it's a nice story, and I can't tell
it like Auntie Rose. Doctor Gray,
maybe you are Flowerman."

"Why?"

"O, I don't know, I just think so."

"Well, let's hear the story, and then
we'll see whether I am Flowerman."

"O, I am almost sure you are. Let
me see — I've never told it, and I don't
know how to begin."

"Once upon a time, as the sun was
sinking in the West, a traveler was seen
wending —

"No, no, not that way. Once upon
a time there were two travelers —
one was Day and one was Night. The
other name of Day was Flowerman.
The other name of Night was Star-
lighter. They lived together long, long
ago; one day Flowerman went away from
home and did not come back, and Star-
lighter went to hunt for him, but she
could not find him. Only once in a
while she could see him traveling away,
away ahead, and she ran as fast as she
could, but she could never catch up with
Flowerman, who always hurried on to
find Starlighter. Flowerman would some-
times see Starlighter, for they went
around and 'round in a ring; but
Flowerman could never catch up with
Starlighter. Flowerman was always
going on ahead as Starlighter was com-
ing up, and Starlighter was always going
on ahead as Flowerman was coming up.
And then Auntie Rose said it did not
matter about Day and Night, for they
never died and they never got old, but
she said Starlighter and Flowerman were

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

people, and that was ever so much
different.

"Do you think you are Flowerman,
now, doctor?"

The doctor's heart was swelling within
him at the child's story. Was he
Flowerman?

"Yes, my dear, I fear I am Flower-
man!"

"O, Auntie Rose will be glad of that!
I thought you were Flowerman. Now
you can catch up!"

And the doctor instead thought of the
hopelessness and the pity of it, for peo-
ple who die and for people who grow
old. His eyes were dim as he wrote the
directions to his patient, saying to him-
self:

"These are the first lines in twenty-five
years. How many, how many before!"

In the sick-room Rose took the pre-
scription and kissed the lines without

reading them. They were the first lines
in twenty-five years. How many, how
many before!

The doctor was hardly absent from
Rose Temple's in the following fort-
night ere she passed away.

In the few months that followed, the
doctor went about in a dream, although
administering as usual to the physical
ailments of Prophet Town. But what
physician can cure himself? These few
short months brought startling results.
The doctor's duties were listlessly per-
formed. The doctor took no care!
The doctor was sick! The doctor, at
last, was dying.

And it came about that the house of
Rose Temple and the house of the doc-
tor were no longer exceptions to the rule
of all other houses on Poplar street in
Prophet Town, that death had entered
there.

STILL IN THE OLD, FAMILIAR WAYS

By Cora A. Matson - Dolson

FLORIDAVI LLE, NEW YQRK

I SAW him carried from the place
While white flowers trailed a faint perfume,

And all the nearest of his race
Joined in the long procession's gloom.

And yet, within this place he stays ;

The soft breeze lifts his whitened hair,
His rocker by the fireside sways,

I hear his step upon the stair.

I pass him in the darkened halls,
He bears a basket filled with grain ;

His shadow in the doorway falls,
He bends his head to breast the rain.

The farm-horse feels him near and neighs ;

Then, waiting in the silence, stands.
The fowls flock in their wonted ways

To take their feeding from his hands.

Through orchard lands I see him pass
When boughs with ripened fruit bend down,

And footprints mark the pasture grass
Beside thfe mushroom's mystic crown.

Deem otherwise than this, who may ;

Who cannot feel, the silence through,
When you have borne your dead away,

A presence in the paths they knew !

THE TRIBULATIONS OF NEWVILLE

A PARABLE

By Paul Tafel

CLEVELAND, OHIO

How Newvillc came ^Y)ME of the
into being and how »3 people of
the early settlers Oldenburg be-
earned their living, came dissatis-
fied with the

state of things in their home tosvn and
in due time made up their minds to
migrate. They put their wives and chil-
dren and household goods on board
a ship and bade the master to set sail
and steer toward the setting sun. After
a long voyage they landed on an island,
looked around and said to one another :
"This seems like a good country, let
us settle here." And they built huts
and log cabins and cleared the timber
away that they might raise wheat and
cabbages and corn. The air was whole-
some and the soil fertile, and it pleased
them so much that the leaders got to-
gether and said: "Let us found a city
and keep together for better or for
worse. Let us have our own ways and
be done with kings, for are not all men
born free and equal?" So they set up
an upper and a lower council of wise
and honorable men that knew no selfish-
ness, and who should watch by day and
by night over the welfare of the town.
A burgomaster was then elected who
was to see that the laws made by the
people, through their spokesmen in the
councils, were properly carried out and
obeyed by young and old. And the
town was baptized Newville.
Jl

As time went by, the children of the
old folks became old folks themselves
and had children too. They were a
God-fearing lot, strong, resourceful and
enterprising, as settlers are apt to be,
thrifty and saving, and each followed the
trade of his forefathers: one tilled the

soil, one baked bread, another made
garments and still another built houses;
others again set to digging in the ground
and found coal and oil and iron and
many precious metals. One man was
a wagon owner. He took it unto him-
self to carry the wheat from the farm to
the mill and the flour from the mill to
the baker. He hauled the ore from the
mine to the smelters and the iron to the
foundry and the blacksmith. His wag-
ons went from one end of the island to
the other and had it not been for this
wagon owner, Newville would not have
grown so fast and waxed so prosperous.
He was indeed a useful burgess.

The people steadily multiplied, partly
by themselves, partly by others who
came from Oldenburg, when they had
heard the tidings of Newville's natural
riches. But with the people multiplied
their needs. The baker could no longer
bake enough bread for every household,
and the tailor could not make enough
garments, for there were too many to be
fed and clothed. Nor were there enough
houses to give shelter; and the farmers
raised so much corn and the mines
yielded so much coal and copper and
iron that the wagon owner could no
longer haul it all away. So it came
about that others went to baking bread
and to making garments and to building
houses, and others built wagons and
roads to deliver the goods.
Jl

How the tribula-
tions of Newville
began and how
the tradespeople
consolidated.

tive, where there is

Perfect peace
can only live in
small communi-
ties where habits
are simple and
conditions primi-
plenty of the neces-

294

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

sities of life and where all are equal and
united by brotherly love and mutual help-
fulness and good will. But let there be
more heads and there will be more minds.
Diversity will take the place of equality
and conditions will become complicated.
Few human hearts are so wide that they
can open to the multitude. In most
hearts there is room for but a few.
Love, once embracing the whole com-
munity, will restrict itself to the clan
and, at last, when the clan also grows
too numerous, it will seek refuge in the
family. Let the bonds of common inter-
est once be loosened, love will fast be-
come indifferent, and, in addition, let
the growing earthly needs outweigh the
supply, hunger and envy will govern all
thoughts and actions, and indifference
will turn into grasping selfishness. The
law of the survival of the fittest begins
to operate and the struggle is on; so was
it in Newville.

A shoemaker had noticed for some
time that his fellow shoemaker across
the street had more trade than he had
himself, and one day he saw one of his
own customers walk into the other shoe-
maker's shop to have his boots mended.
He waited for him, and when he came
out he asked: "Friend, is not my work
as good as the other shoemaker's? Why
have you quitted me?" And the man
said: "In truth, your work is as good
as his, but his is cheaper." So the
cunning shoemaker inquired all around,
and when he had found out his rival's
prices, he henceforth sold his goods a
little cheaper, and all his customers
came back to him and he gained many
new ones. His business grew larger
and larger, and by buying his leather
in big lots he could get it for a smaller
price, so he sold his shoes still cheaper
than before.

And the same phenomenon was ob-
served in other trades. One of the
wagoners went to the coal mine owner
and said : "I will pay you back one-tenth

of the money that you pay me for haul-
ing your coal, if you will promise never
to trade with the other wagon owners."
The coal man was satisfied, and lowered
his prices, to the detriment and dismay
of the other coal men, who got no money
back from the wagon owner. And the
people of Newville were pleased with this
new state of things, for it was much bet-
ter than in the olden days, when the
town was very small and when there was
only one man in each trade to buy from.
Then the one baker could sell small
loaves or big loaves as he pleased; now
the many bakers tried to please their
patrons, for the patrons could buy where
they got the best goods at the lowest
prices.

But this golden era of giving and
receiving most for least did not last
long, for the traders did not like it.
Said one big 'oil refiner to another big
oil refiner: "Listen, brother, if you and
I keep on cutting each other's prices,
the day will come when the people will
get their oil for nothing and we must die
in misery. You must buy me out, or I
will buy you out, but this can go no
further." After much debating, they
compromised on a pool and lowered
prices until all the poorer oil refiners
could not stand it any longer and re-
solved to sell their wells to the pool.
And the prices of oil went up again.
Other traders did likewise, and small
firms grew scarcer and scarcer. Once
there was a meat packer who would have
nothing to do with the other meat pack-
ers and refused to come in. The con-
solidated meat packers went to the con-
solidated cattlemen and asked them to
stop selling live stock to the fool, and
the poor fneat packer quickly changed
his mind.

But they consolidated not merely for
maintaining prices. In some cases it
was not possible to shut out competition
entirely; so they hit upon some other
plan to increase profits. Said one shop

THE TRIBULATIONS OF NEWVILLE

295

owner to another shop owner: "You
have a foreman and a men to work for
you, and so have I. You have a man
to keep your books, an engineer to assist
you with his advice, a lawyer to inter-
pret the city's law to you, and to collect
outstanding debts, and a number of men
to go out on the road and sell your
goods, and so have I. Let us tear down
our old shops and build a new one twice
as big. Let us have one foreman, the
better of the two, and one engineer and
one lawyer and one bookkeeper and one
set of salesmen, always the better of the
two, and let the others go and save the
pay." All of which they did, and their
profits grew.

All these things were bad for the
people, but, each being busy with earn-
ing an honest living, they did not real-
ize it until, by and by, they found that
they could no longer buy their salt from
the salt maker who gave them the best
salt for the least money; they had to
buy from the consolidated salt makers
and be thankful for the little they got
for dear money; they could buy it no-
where else. In their distress they turned
to Oldenburg, where the makers of
goods are satisfied with smaller profits.
But no sooner had the first shipload
come across the sea, than the consoli-
dated folks raised their voices all at
once and cried: "Keep them out! Keep
them out!" And they prevailed on the
councilmen to make a law by which the
Oldenburgers should be prevented from
selling other goods to the people of
Newville than those which they could
not make themselves. And the council-
men, seduced by sundry means of per-
suasion and subtle argument, resolved
that a wall should be built around the
island and the harbors fortified. And
furthermore, that whoever bought goods
from foreign traders should pay toll to
the city before he was allowed to pass
the gates with what he had bought.

And the Oldenburgers were locked out
forthwith.

How the working- The consoli-
ng en consolidated, dated makers
how they troubled of goods were
the people, and how so well pleased
the people set things at the prospect
in order again, of future riches
that they did

not see the heavy clouds which had been
gathering on the horizon for some time.
Nor did it concern them much that the
high prices which they extracted from
the people fell hardest on the poor folks.
But amongst these were the working-
men who owned nothing but a strong
body and the experience which they had
gained during their years of apprentice-
ship. These they sold to the masters
for wages, working long hours day by
day.

One day a workman came to his mas-
ter and said: "Master, I have toiled
for you many years and faithfully. In
former times I have been laying back
a shilling a week for old age and rainy
days, but food grows ever dearer and
my wages are ever the same. Give me
higher wages, that I may keep my body
strong and my wife and little ones from
starving." But the master grew very
angry and cried : "Thou ungrateful ser-
vant, dost thou not know that I have
ever paid you more than thy work was
worth to me? Be gone, and may I see
you nevermore!" But the workman felt
sick at heart, and he told his fellows
what he had done and what the master
had said, and spread much discontent
and anger among them. Said they: "Let
us help our brother, for are we not in
the same distress as he? Let us unite,
and what the master denied to the one
he may not deny to the many, for he
cannot get on without us." And they
all went to the master and demanded
more wages. But the master grew more
angry still and drove them out, and he

296

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

told his foreman to go out into the
streets and taverns and hire all the idle
men he could find. But no sooner had
the other workmen learned of this, when
they armed themselves with clubs and
stones to keep the new men away from
the house, and they threatened to set fire
to the workshops if the master would
not grant their just demands. And the
master, seeing that much time and money
would be lost if his workmen stayed out,
promised to pay them higher wages if
they would come back and be peaceful.
It was not very long before the workmen
of other trades did likewise; all united
and demanded higher wages and al-
most always got them. One day, however,
the united coal miners begged the united
coal mine owners for better terms. But
the owners would not treat with the
miners, and the miners laid down their
picks and shovels and quit work, and
no coal was brought to day for many
a week. At first the people were quite
indifferent as to how the feud would
end, for the mine owners had money in
plenty, and therefore needed no sym-
pathy, while the miners could live on
the subsidies from the treasuries of
brother unions. But when the grim
Winter approached from the North, the
people of Newville became scared at
their empty coal bins and began to ask
that the fight come to a speedy end.
"Shall tens of thousands of us freeze
because a hundred miners are at odds
with their masters?" "But," asked
others, "is not the cause of the poor
miners a just one? Let the wealthy
mine owners give in, for we must have
coal." Time went by and nothing was
done, when at last the burgomaster, see-
ing that the people grew very angry and
openly sided with the miners against the
haughty coal barons who would not yield,
and fearing that the community would
be subjected to great hardships during
the Winter for lack of coal, took a hand
in the feud. He set up a special coun-
cil, by the judgment of which both

parties promised to abide. After the
council had heard both sides, it decided
for the miners, and the burgomaster
earned much praise from all the united
workmen and from the people.

Soon afterward the Newvillers awak-
ened one morning and found no bread
on the breakfast table; then again there
was no meat to be had; then the plumb-
er would not come to fix a bursted water
pipe, and the grave diggers would not
bury the dead — always because some
union of working men was at odds with
the masters as to wages and hours of
work. There was bloodshed every day
between united workingmen and those
whom the masters had hired to take
their places, goods remained undelivered
and people had to walk many miles to
reach their homes or places of business,
buildings were left unfinished, ships
were rotting in the harbors and the corn
went to waste in the fields. Oftentimes
business came to a standstill and the
losses in money could not have been
greater had there been actual war with
some foreign city.

This lasted many years, but at last
the people said: "Hold on, we have
suffered enough. We deny neither to
the masters nor to the workingmen to
unite to safeguard their interests, but
they are at fault if by safeguarding their
own interests they interfere with those
of the rest of the people, who are in-
deed many times more numerous than
masters and workingmen together. And
if masters and workingmen cannot set-
tle their differences without subjecting
young and old, men and innocent wo-
men and children to untold hardships,
the differences must be settled for them
by the people.

"Let us create & court in which half of
the seats shall be allotted to the spokes-
men chosen by the masters and the
other half to the chosen spokesmen of
the workingmen and a wise and honest

297

judge chosen by the people shall pre-
side. Every master or union of masters
and every union of workmen shall have
a grant from the burgomaster to do
business or work, without which grant
they cannot enjoy the protection of the
court. And all disputes shall be brought
before this court and the contending
parties shall abide by its decision under
penalty of heavy fine, nor shall a master
be permitted to dismiss his working-
men or the workingmen to quit the mas-
ter while the court is examining their
case." Such was the people's will, and
the law was made accordingly.

Peace reigned again in Newville and
the city flourished. Soon the output of
the mines and shops and the yield of
the fertile fields was so large that it was
far more than the people needed for
themselves, and ship after ship went out
to sea laden with wheat and fruit and
meat and metals and hardware and came
back with bags of gold.

How the Of all earthly things,
working- gold is the most peculiar.
men im- Few men can long behold
proved it without becoming dazed
their lor- by ^s luster. It attracts
tune s . them with magnetic force,
and when once within its
magnetic circle they are filled with a
mad desire to possess the source whence
flows this mysterious power. Its influ-
ence makes itself felt ever and every-
where, and it is one of the unseen forces
that govern the destines of mankind. It
is Satan's present to man and it breeds
hatred and strife. It was also largely
the cause of the tribulations of Newville.
Since the workingmen had risen from
the humble state of servants whom the
master could chastise and dismiss at his
pleasure to that of a mighty power in
the community who could treat with their
masters on even terms, they became
filled with new ambitions and desires.
They did indeed not aim at becoming

masters themselves, but they wanted to
live in a manner becoming the import-
ance of their new position in Newville.
They wanted to buy better garments and
food, own their houses, give a better
education to their*offspring and enjoy
the pleasures of life, all of which re-
quired a larger income.

Argued the workingmen : — "The wages
of one man who produces one hundred
pieces of a certain ware in one day form
a small portion only of the profits which
the master makes in selling these goods,
while the workingmen ought really to
get the larger portion." To which the
master replied: "I have worked hard all
my life, and of my savings I have built
this shop and bought the tools with
which you work and without which you
could produce no more than ten pieces
in one day. It would take ten working-
men to make one hundred pieces and
the wages of each man would needs be
smaller. "True," said the workingmen,
''but without our labor your tools could
produce naught and your profits would
be naught while each of us workingmen
could still make ten pieces a day and
earn a -living. This being so," con-
tinued the workingmen, "let us form
a partnership; you build the shop and
buy the tools, we furnish the labor and
what is left of the sales money, after
power and raw stuffs have been paid for,
shall be divided; you shall get one-half,
or one-third or one-fourth, or whatever
shall have been agreed upon at the
beginning and each of the workmen shall
get his due share of the rest." But the
master would not hear of it. "My busi-
ness is my business and not the work-
men's," he said.

But the united workingmen steadily
followed their aim, pressing the masters
for an increased share in the profits, and
the masters became more and more
alarmed and repeatedly beseeched the
councils to fix by law a highest wage
beyond which the workingmen could
not go. But the united workingmen had,

in the course of time, obtained much
influence in the councils and had power-
ful spokesmen, so that the masters could
accomplish naught. Good feeling had
never existed between masters and work-
ingtnen, and it now grew worse from
year to year.

One outcome of this state of things
was that the steadily upward movement
of prices kept step with a steadily up-
ward movement of wages, and the bur-
den on the people was heavy. Small
wonder was it indeed that the greater
part of the people were inclined toward
the side of the workingmen, for the mas-
ters were the dispensers of the neces-
saries of life, and had for ages amassed
great wealth at the expense of the
people. So it came about that gradually
the masters gave way before the great
pressure, and one by one took the work-
ingmen into partnership, and it was
found that the scheme was good. The
master took good care of the working-
men and the workingmen took good
care of the shop and the tools, also
the workingmen themselves saw to it
that only good and experienced men
found employment in the shop, for
they knew full well that poor tools
and poor workmen meant smaller
profits.

How the producers The people
burdened the non- of N e w v i 1 1 e
producers and how were now di-
the non-producers vided into two
revolted against large classes;
the producers, ontheonehand
were the mas-
ters and the workingmen, who were
called the producers, and on the other
side were the non-producers, the great
mass of the people. These were again
sub-divided into three smaller classes.
There were the school teachers, the
preachers, the politicians and the army
of officials who were in charge of the
complicated mechanism of the city's

administration, with the burgomaster as
chief engineer; the physicians, the law-
yers, the artists, actors and writers. All
these were also called the intellectuals
or the professions. Then came an army
of merchants and storekeepers who dis-
tributed the goods made by the pro-
ducers, at a small profit, and last the
still larger army of the unemployed, the
unskilled, the tramps and the paupers,
who were ever on the very edge of
starvation.

Although the non-producers were
many times more numerous than the
producers, their total wealth was many
times smaller, for the producers had the
keys to the inexhaustible storehouses of
nature, and they owned all the wagons
and roads to deliver the goods to the
people. Indeed, they might easily have
starved the whole community to death,
had it not been that they were ever
afraid of violence. So they sold their
goods for as much money as they could
get from the people and they never went
far enough to excite open revolt. Be-
sides, the people were not united. The
intellectuals stood apart. The artist
and the scientist detest commercialism,
therefore they would not mix with the
merchants, and they would not side with
the lowest classes, for those have no
culture and education. Aside from that,
they depended on the wealthy producers
not only for their food but also for their
income. The merchants wished to keep
on good terms with everybody, for they
had everybody for their customers, and
finally the unemployed, unskilled, tramps
and paupers, who had nothing to lose
and nothing to gain, no matter which of
the other classes had the upper hand,
considered everybody else as their
natural enemy. So it went on many
years. Once in a while voices were
heard requesting that the great wall be
torn down and the foreign producers let
in, and when the voices became too
numerous and too powerful, the pro-
ducers would open the gates a little and

THE TRIBULATIONS OF NEWVILLE

299

Entire industries
if we allow such
Newville at their
many producers

low those to come in that did them the
least harm. But the discontent among
the non-producers grew and gathered
momentum, like a heavy stone that
slowly starts to roll on a downward path.
The people's long suffering patience
came to an end.

And some said in great anger:
"Let us tear down the great wall and
open our ports to all the world. We
want to buy from him who offers the
best goods at the lowest prices, whether
he be of our own or foreign stock."
But others replied:

"Many goods can be made more
cheaply in foreign cities because of
cheaper raw stuffs, or cheaper labor
or cheaper power,
might be wiped out
goods to be sold in
home prices, and
would be forced to join the great army
of the unemployed and become a burden
to the community. It might also happen
that we buy more from the foreigners
than they buy from us, and Newville's
wealth would dwindle. Thus while we
may have relief for the present, we shall
have to suffer in the future. Lost wealth
is hard to recover."

And the people sa'w that there was
much sense in these arguments:
besides, they loved their native city
above everything else in the world
and disliked the foreigners. "Let the
wall stand," they said, "and think
of some other remedy. " The most radi-
cal ones argued this way: "The coal and
salt and metals and the fertile soil which
nature has been pleased to bless this
island with belong to all men and are
common property. Nature has not in-
tended that her precious gifts, without
which no one could live, should be
possessed by but a few and be dealt out
to the many for exorbitant toll. There-
fore, let us seize by force of arms the
mines and timber lands and fields and
the highways that lead from them to the
city, and distribute them among the peo-

ple, that each man may have one even
share and all the mines and public lands
and highways shall be worked for the
people and by the people, or by those
entrusted by the people with the man-
agement, and the returns shall flow into
the people's pockets."

"But this would not be just nor fair,"
replied the more moderate ones. They
said: "The early settlers and their sons
have planted the first corn and wheat
and cotton when Newville was but a
wilderness; they discovered the mines
and drove shafts into them; they built
the highroads and hundreds of work-
shops, and they passed them on to their
children and children's children, who
improved their inherited property with
the money they had earned through hard
and patient labor. Had it not been for
the work of these pioneers and those
who prepared the raw stuffs furnished
by. the mines and forests and farms for
the use of mankind, Newville would not
be the wealthy and powerful city she is
today. Why, then, should we suddenly
rob the producers of their inheritance
and of the fruits of their labors? Would
it not be fairer if we made an honest
bargain with them and gave them
value for value?" And it was pro-
posed that the city should buy all the
mines and farm lands and prairies and
forests and highways and turn them over
to public spirited and experienced and
honest men, who should be selected by
the burgomaster for life, regardless of
their political or religious faith, and be
paid fair wages for their services, and
that the products of mines and farms
and highways shall be sold at a small
profit and the profits used for paying off
the former owners. It was further pro-
posed that the books of the makers of
goods, the great bakers, meat packers,
garment makers, metal workers and all
the rest shall at all times be open to the
public and a special court shall be em-
powered to regulate the prices at which
goods may be sold to the people.

300

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1903

How the producers
and non-producers
consolidated, and
how the tribula-
tions of Newvillc
came to an end.

And a great
and final strug-
gle ensued be-
tween the pro-
ducers and the
non -producers.
The former
having much influence among the coun-
cilmen, no laws were made that might
harm the producers, and many years
went by. But the people were deter-
mined to have their way, and began to
threaten the councilmen with bodily in-
juries if they would not obey the will of
the masses. At last the will of the
people was done.

And the city bought not only the
natural treasures, the fields and high-
ways, but gradually also the shops of
the makers of goods. "For," said the
shop owners, "if the people may decide
at what prices we shall sell our goods,
while we have all the responsibilities
and risks, then the people may as well
make the goods themselves." And one

by one they sold out to the city, and the
city in due time furnished the people
with all the necessaries of life: — with
food and garments and houses, for little
money, and the people were happy.
And as the treasury was full to over-
flowing the public money was used for
the free education of the city's youth,
and the great mass of the unemployed
were given work in deepening the rivers
and canals for better navigation, in irri-
gating arid lands and in restocking de-
pleted forests. Ships were built in which
to .carry surplus goods to foreign mar-
kets, and men-of-war to ward off un-
friendly and envious neighbors who
might covet Newville's wealth, and
there were monuments to the great men
who by patriotic deeds and statesman-
ship had helped to make the city great,
and beautiful temples and showhouses
were erected for the use of the people.
Fabulous riches were piled up and
the beauty and wealth of Newville ex-
cited the admiration of all mankind.

OLD BAR A

THE COWBOY'S "MANDALAY

(WITH APOLOGIES TO MR. KIPLING)

By Jessie M. Whittaker

DEN TON, TEXAS

OUT beyond the crooked Brazos, where the world is big an' free,
There's a mustang pony roamin' that I know remembers me;
For the mesquite trees they whisper, an' the prairie winds they say:
"Come you back, you Texas cowboy, come you back to Ranch Bar A.
Come you back to big Bar A,
Where the old gang used to stay;

Can't you hear their spurs a-clinkin' round the corrals at Bar A?
In the corrals at Bar A,
Where the flyin' lassos play,
Till the sun rolls off the prairie down the canons of Jose.

' »
OLD BAR A 3oi

His temper wasn't pretty and his eye it looked like sin,
An' his name was Little Tophet— fit him, too, just like the skin;
An' I seen him first aspirin' to the skies with two hind feet,
Harborin' the strange delusion that a cowboy's made to eat*

An' right there, I says: "We'll see

Which is boss here, him or me.
'Twasn't much he cared for buckin' at the end of that melee

In the corral at Bar A.

When the flowers was bloomin' stirrup-high as far as you could see,
(An' I reckon Heav'n ain't sweeter than a Texas May can be),
I'd get his Spanish saddle, an' I'd whistle soft an' low,
An' we'd saunter 'cross the prairie, while the East begun to glow;

Watch the stars a-fadin' slow, ••'

An' the wolves a-skulkin' low,
An' the creaky windmills waitin' for a breeze to wake and blow

Down the range to old Bar A.

But them rovin' days are over — oh, my heart, how far away I

An' there ain't no trails meanderin' from the Hub to old Bar ^;

An' I'm learnin' here in Boston what the old-time cowboy tells:

"If you've heard the West a-callin', why, you won't hear nothin' else."

No, you won't want nothin' else

But them cedar camp-fire smells,
An' the South wind playin' fairy tunes upon the yucca bells,

'Long the trail to old Bar A.

I'm sick of parks and libr'ies and of symphonies an' art,

An' this talkin' out of grammars is a-shrivelin' my heart.

An' this horse I ride out mornin's, where the green things stay in rows,

Would he know a steer, I wonder, any further than his nose?

Oh, he's pedigreed, I s'pose,

An' he does the best he knows,
But for ridin' give me Tophet an' some proper feelin' clothes

On the range at old Bar A.

Send me back beyond the Brazos, where there ain't this culture thirst,
Where there ain't these Social Questions an' the last man's good as first;
For the prairie winds are callin', an' it's there that I would be,
On the Llano Estacado, where the world is big an' free.

On the range at big Bar A,

Where the old gang used to stay,
Swappin' yarns an' brandin' yearlin's at the round-ups on Bar A:

On the range at Ranch Bar A,

Where the flying' lassos play,
An' the sun rolls off the prairie down the canons of Jose.

Drawn by M. L. Blumenthal

"Daniel," said Roger Croft, "you leave my borne tonight.

Hie
vSaltof

Eap-fk

By Edwin Carlile Litsey

Author of "The Love Story of Abner Stone'

LEBANON, KENTUCKY
ILLUSTRATED BY M. L. BLUMENTHAL

THE BANISHMENT

OLD ROGER CROFT was a good and a just man. He was as much respected
and looked up to as the parish priest, or either of the four Protestant ministers
in Mossdale. He had attained this high place in the esteem— not to say affection—
of his townsmen by living a circumspect and honorable life, by attending strictly
to his own business, and by lending a helping hand and giving a cheery word when-
ever distress called or misfortune gloomed. Mossdale possessed between three
thousand and four thousand inhabitants, one main street upon which business
houses glared across at each other during the day and slept peacefully side by side
at night, and a number of other streets comprising the resident portion of the town.
The home of Roger Croft was rather far out from the court house — which marked
the exact center of Mossdale — and near the suburbs. It was only a one-storey struc-
ture of brick, but it was many roomed and spreading. The grounds were spacious
and well kept, and the garden in the rear was devoted more to the cultivation
of beautiful flowers than to the raising of cabbages and potatoes. For Roger

3o4 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

Croft was a nature lover, and a goodly portion of his seventy-five years had been
spent outdoors. He almost knew the number of corrugations in the bark on the
trunks of his oaks and his elms; he could tell within a day when the maples would
put forth their buds in March ; and when the double row of crocuses before his
library window thrust their shy heads through the grass to peep at him almost
before the snow had left, he would smile, lay down his book and thank God for
Spring. The townspeople loved Roger Croft, and when a grave trouble began to
threaten him they sorrowed in their hearts and talked in low tones together, but
they could not help him. \

The kindly, yet dignified master of Ivy Lodge was, as we have said, a devotee
of nature. He loved the perfect works of the Creator with the intensity of a deep
and calm temperament. To him a blossoming bed of flowers was a symphony, and
the chant of the storm wind in the thick woods the notes of a mighty harp attuned
to celestial harmony. He had studied the secrets of the universe in his garden, in
the fields and in the woodlands, and by the running brooks and in the green pas-
tures. He had striven for knowledge manfully. He had sought, and he had found.
He had knocked and the doors which had seemed to be hermetically sealed were
opened. So for many years he lived alone, going forth in the morning and in the
afternoon, and coming back to the easy chair by his fireside to rest and read. At
forty-five he had met, loved and married a woman of refinement and culture. Five
years later a child was given to them. It was then he was called upon to endure
the supremest pang of human existence. Upon that eternal current which forever
runs toward a hidden shore she was borne out of his life, leaving it empty, aching,
paralyzed. The last promise he made her was to bring up her infant son in the
ways of manliness and honor. The years fled. Time, with its magic touch,
blunted the throbbing pain in the heart of the stricken man. He did not forget;
he never ceased to suffer, but the manifold duties toward his growing boy demanded
his time and his unremitting care, and in this way his fearful affliction was in some
measure overshadowed. The babe became a child; the child a youth, straight-
limbed, active and supple. By some strange chance Roger Croft did not seek to
educate him along the lines which had shaped and governed his own life. He did
not take him by the hand and lead him along the secluded paths where fairy
voices might whisper their lures into his ears. He did not make him sit down at
the foot of a willow drooping over the water, place a book in his hand and bid him
read a while, and then stop and study the inanimate but eloquent things about him.
It is true he introduced his son to his large library when he was of a suitable age,
and suggested and directed his reading.

The father made the mistake which thousands of other fathers have made. He
himself had been a dreamer, a recluse, a drone, perhaps. But for his son he had
ambitions. Daniel had a good mind and a good presence. Why might he not
rise high in the law? College days came, and after a while letters asking for
money, money, more money. Roger Croft sent more than enough for the boy's
expenses and legitimate pleasures, and finally, becoming alarmed, he resolved to
write for him to come home. As he was inditing the letter with many misgivings,
the front door of the house was opened and Daniel stood before him. He had
been expelled.

The gentle old man bore the shame and the ignominy silently, and after that
first night he never spoke to his son on the subject again. The young man
refused to try another school. He would work, if congenial employment could
be found in Mossdale, but he had no ambition and no aspiration, and his father had

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 305

money in plenty. So Roger Croft went into the business houses one by one,
seeking a place for his boy. Strange that every position was filled, everywhere,
even down to the janitor's. Everyone to whom he spoke was kind, and expressed
their regret that they could not help him; but when he laboriously climbed the
slanting street to Ivy Lodge the consciousness was forcibly borne in upon him that
his boy — her son — was a failure on the threshold of life.

Though of studious habits, and holding himself far away from the world, Roger
was not blind to the faults and the sins of the world. For instance, he knew that
exercise reddened the face in one way, and that wine reddened it in another. When
he entered a room Daniel had just left and smelled that peculiar, indescribable
odor which permeated the atmosphere, he knew quite well that it was caused by
a breath tainted with stale whiskey. When, at breakfast, he saw dishevelled hair
carelessly combed; a haggard, lined face and bloodshot eyes, he knew that Daniel
had been making a night of it, most probably at the gaming table. And matters
grew worse and worse. Roger was at a loss to know where the boy obtained money
to indulge his many vices. He supplied him with the necessaries of life and a small
sum weekly for tobacco, but these weekly allowances did not last an hour. His son
— her son — was gaming.

One morning, quite early, as Roger was walking in his garden with furrowed
brow and bent head, wandering in that mental labyrinth of inextricable incident
and calamity, a red-faced, portly man opened the gate and came toward him.
"Good morning, sir," said Roger, courteously touching the rim of his hat.
"Good morning, Mr. Croft," returned the stranger, then resumed, hurriedly
and confusedly: "Your son has been working for me for the past two weeks. I
don't know whether you know it or not, but he has. Last night when I left the
house at eleven there was twenty dollars in the drawer. This morning it's gone, but
all the doors were locked. I've missed small amounts before, but I never said any-
thing about it, because I'd hate to give you trouble. But twenty dollars is too
much. I must have it back, or — or — "

"Have Daniel arrested. Yes. — Where is your place of business?"
"The Railroad Saloon. Dan was my barkeeper, and -
"Yes — yes; come to the house with me and I will return your money."
With a face as white as the gray locks falling about it, Roger Croft turned and
led the way. The man received his money with many assurances that the matter
would go no further, and Roger, going to a small inner room, knelt by a window
facing the West and hiding his worn face in his wrinkled hands sobbed like a heart-
broken woman. To this window, in this room, he and she had so often come to
watch the sunset together, and some of the rarest .and most precious moments of his
life had passed as they stood, each arm-encircled, and beheld the glory in the West
give place to gentle shadow, like the breast of a brooding dove. For many years
now he had come alone to the window, and was it all fancy when, in the magical
twilight, he thought he felt a hand touch his? This was his sanctuary, his confes-
sional, his earthly holy of holies. Here he came to think of her, to dream of her,
and commune with her in spirit. And here, in the extremity of this last appalling
grief and shame, he had come to pour forth his tears and to pray that she might
search his heart, and know that he was not to blame.

He did not go to breakfast. He did not leave that small room crowded with
sacred and treasured memories until past midday. When his outraged mind had,
in a way, become conscious of the deep degradation which had been thrust upon
his name, Roger sat down and stared stonily before him for many minutes. For

306 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

the sake of his promise to the boy's mother, he had borne with Daniel as long as
he could. The knowledge which he had" gained that morning overtipped the bal-
ance of forbearance. The son of his loins was selling liquor in a low barroom,
and was guilty of petty theft! He writhed in pain of mind and groaned outright.
That act had marked the limit of parental charity. All morning he sat and thought,
and in the afternoon he walked in his garden and thought again. But his beloved
roses were like great clots of blood; the lilies reminded him of death. The joy of
living and the joy of life had, for the time, ceased. As the shadows of the trees
began to lengthen, and then to blur, Roger made his decision, and it was immutable.

At supper Daniel was sober, or nearly so. The meal was eaten in silence. At
its close Roger Croft arose and spoke huskily.

"Daniel, come to the library when you have finished."

The young man pushed back his plate half sullenly, got up and followed his father
without a word. Rog^er quietly sat down in his favorite chair, and Daniel care-
lessly flung himself into another. Here was, in truth, a defiled temple; a noble
work self-marred. His frame was well molded, broad of shoulder and deep of
chest. The contour of his face was square; the mouth large and good, the chin
firm. His eyes, which his Maker had given him gray and serene, were muddy and
watery, and the whites were streaked with gorged veins. Heavy shadows lay
beneath each one. There was a half-healed bruise upon the bridge of his nose.
His low, broad forehead was white with a sickly, unnatural pallor, and damp strands
of unkempt, chestnut hair fell over it. His cheeks were flaccid, sallow, unhealthy,
and were beginning to pouch. His air was one of discomfort, and he seemed rest-
less and out of place. His father looked at him for some time, pityingly. Her
son! Yes, for her features were reflected in the face before him, albeit it was gross,
bestial and stamped with vice.

"Daniel," said Roger Croft, slightly raising his voice as he noticed that it
trembled on the first word, — "you leave my home tonight."

The face of the culprit blanched in sudden fear, but he did not lift his eyes
from the floor and he did not open his lips in answer. The old man went on,
although each word he spoke was like the thrust of a knife in his own heart.

"If God had spared your mother, I do not believe this would have come to
pass. But it was His will that she should go. I promised her that I would devote
my life to rearing you in the ways of good conduct and honest endeavor. Even you
cannot say that I have not tried. If I have been at fault, the fault has been leniency
and over-indulgence. I cannot fathom the reason for your conduct. Your mother
was noble, and true, and sweet, and good. My own days, though unmarked by any
great deed, have been one long striving after the simple life — the white life, and you
know that my name is respected, and that there is not the faintest cloud upon it.
It cannot be the seeds of unworthy ancestors springing up to bear bitter fruit
in you. I had thought my work well done when you went away to college. 'As
the twig is bent, so is the tree inclined.' What sudden storm swept over you and
turned your feet from the way in which I had placed them, I don't know. My
thoughtful care' and my nightly prayers and daily watchfulness have come to
nothing. You have disgraced me — disgraced me and disgraced your mother's
memory 1"

Still the younger man was silent. His legs were outstretched and his feet were
crossed; his hands were thrust deep into the pockets of his trousers and his chin
was sunk low upon his breast. He did not move, and he could not raise his eyes.
A faint glimmer of shame was stirring somewhere deep within him, for his temples

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 307

were tinged and the strong muscles in his jaws were working, His father resumed:

"I bore the disappointment of your expulsion from college, although that was
a blow for which I was altogether unprepared. But your explanation showed
some mitigating circumstances, and I forgave you and offered you any opportunity
which you might name. I have known for many weeks that you have been drink-
ing— recently I have thought that you must be gaming. Last night you became
a thief! From a bartender in the most disreputable den in Mossdale, Daniel Croft,
my son, my only son, has become a thief. This morning your employer came to
me and told me the shameful story to my face, suggesting your arrest and imprison-
ment if the money you had taken was not forthcoming. I paid it to him, but —
Daniel, this is the end. Have you anything to say for yourself?"

"No, sir."

Still the head was sunk and the eyes were down, and the monosyllables were
forced from between clenched teeth.

"You must leave my home tonight. It is the only hope for your redemption,
and if I did not love you still with a yearning, unfathomable love I would let you
stay. But you must go. Now listen to my parting words, and sink them in your
memory so deep that time cannot wrest them from you. My life has been spent
as close to God as I believe a sinful mortal man can come. I have sought
Him in the unfolding petals of the rose, in the yellow heart of the jonquil,
in the sap-charged bark of the awakening trees, in the low zephyr and in the
furious gale. I have sought Him in the music of flowing water, in the pure
moonlight and in the black night. I have sought Him in the dewy morning, and
yet again in the early evening when the -first stars were beginning to shine. Out-
doors is where God is, and where He is there also is knowledge and peace and
much joy. I send you from my home tonight with this to aid you, if you would
come back to me, before death claims me, and gladden my last days. Live with
nature and live in nature. She made my own life as peaceful ,jd serene as one
of her own meadows flashing in the sunshine of Spring. There you will find the
secret of life and there you will find strength for your every need."

Roger Croft arose and walked slowly to a heavy desk in one corner. Coming
back, he bent and thrust a wallet into his son's waistcoat pocket.

"Here is one hundred dollars. You must earn what else you need. This is
only to keep you from want and help you from place to place. Do not tarry in
Mossdale a single day — a single hour. Will you promise?"

Quite suddenly the younger man arose. He towered above his father nearly
a foot.

"I'll leave Mossdale tonight," he said.

"Goodbye, my boy. Write to me, and may the God of mercy be with you in
the hour of temptation."

In this manner Daniel Croft left his father's roof.

THE MIRACLE OF MORNING

It was early morning in the country. It was early morning at the square,
comfortably built farm house of Joshua Delford. So early, indeed, that the stars
still shone, brighter than ever in the last hour of the night. The season was early

Summer. The huge yard, which stretched from the pike down to the low, wooden
step before the old-fashioned portico, was covered as with a pall of black velvet.
Here the grass grew green and luxuriant, starred with dandelions and an occasional
wild-eyed daisy. A group of locust trees stood near the western corner of the
building; next to them was a wild goose-plum thicket, wherein the plums still hung
green. Marshalled in front of the locusts was a row of bee hives, with the tiny,
banded workers still asleep.

Rising at irregular intervals and without regard to symmetry, a number of forest
trees— oak, ash and maple, for the most part — appeared like cloaked and plumed
specters of the gloom. To the right of the house, where the yard dipped down,
were pear, peach and damson trees, each holding its cool, dewy burden of unripe
fruit. In a solitary locust tree at the rear of the house, a number of humped,
quiescent forms squatted upon the limbs. Some of these forms were large and some
were small, for the turkey is always generous enough to share his roost with chanti-
cleer and his matronly harem. Nothing was stirring; nothing seemed to be alive.
It was that supreme moment just before the earth trembled an answer to the message
of the dawn star.

Then suddenly there was a quickening, as it were, throughout the universe
which night encompassed. A gentle moving; a subtle stirring. The mighty miracle
of day was on the eve of being enacted. As yet there was no change perceptible to
the eye. Still the stars twinkled as though they could never be dimmed, and still
the heavy night covered like billows of sable the earth and the things thereof.
Why does the cock crow at midnight, and why does he crow at dawn? One of the
inert figures in the tree moved sleepily. There was the flick of a wing — a rigor
down the back. Then a startled head leaped out from the ruff of neck feathers and
poked ludicrously and inquiringly this way and that. The scaly talons ungripped
and gripped again for a securer hold; the body arose, the neck arched, and a
clear, piercing c^rion call went forth, proclaiming that morning was at hand.
A startled gobble came from another point in the tree, then presently the herald
had his answer, a counterpart of his own cry coming from the direction of
the barn. Back and forth the calls were hurled, summoning the laggard from his
couch by their imperative tones. Then after a while, from far in the distance, the
same notes drifted like a dying echo. In the remote East a faint glow showed, like
the segment of a circle. From palest blue the sky became streaked with crimson.
Before the power of those spears of light, hurled from below the horizon with
increasing speed and might, the stars quivered and died. Objects about the farm
house became misty and seemed to sway and writhe as though uncertain of their
location.

A door in an ell built to the rear of the house opened and Joshua Delford came
out upon the long porch, putting his second suspender over his shoulder as he
closed the door behind him. Walking to a low, home-made table upon which sat
a cedar bucket full of water and a tin washpan, he took down a gourd dipper from
a nail on a post and drank long and deep. Then, pouring some water into the
washpan, he quickly performed his simple ablutions, sputtering noisily as he dashed
the cool water upon his face by handsful. The use of a linen towel, made from flax
of his own growing and spun by his wife upon her spinning wheel, completed his
morning toilet. The porch was surrounded by a railing nearly waist high, the exit
being through a gate at the southern corner next to the house. To this gate the
master now walked, and resting one horny hand upon the low post — a hand cracked,
seamed, hairy and strong — he sent a stentorian call across the space intervening

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 309

between him and a negro cabin about forty feet away. His summons gained
immediate response, and having thus roused his head black man, he stood for
a moment to note the condition of the weather, for his wheat was ripe to falling
and he had set this day to begin the harvest.

Joshua Delford was getting along in years. He was of medium height and
inclined to corpulency, despite the active life he had always led; first from neces-
sity— for he had made himself — and later from choice, because the habits of a life-
time could not be put off when he reached that point where it was possible for him
to take his ease. He had a great shock of hair, almost white, and this he worried
very little with comb and brush. More often he would harrow his fingers through
it once or twice, thrust it back with the palm of his hand, and let it go. He wore
a full beard, heavily grayed, and this he kept trimmed to a length of two or three
inches. His eyes were brown and kindly, his nose large and rubicund, and his
cheeks showed through the encroaching whiskers like some of his own garnered
pippins, which he stored away every Fall for Winter use. He wore broad shoes,
partly laced, and a shirt made of coarse white cotton, open at the neck. He was
a perfect type of the prosperous farmer of two generations ago.

Satisfied that the day was dawning propitiously, he turned about to go indoors
again and rouse the female portion of the household. This consisted of Amanda,
his wife, Janet, his old maid daughter, and Madeline Delford, the only daughter of
his only living brother, who years before had been possessed of the fever of ambi-
tion and adventure, and had gone to the city with nothing but his two hands,
a good mind, indomitable purpose and ten dollars in cash, wherewith to achieve
fortune. He had achieved it, as almost anyone possessed of these first three
attributes will.

Outdoors, that world-old, common, yet ever new and ever mysterious miracle
of day was going on. The air was palpitating with new-given life. Down the long
plank extending from the ground to the first fork of the locust tree — a plank with
narrow wooden strips nailed across it where clutching toes might find support —
shadowy shapes came gingerly, moving with trepidation and extreme care. By the
aid of balancing wings, most of them made the descent successfully, but at times
there was a slip and a muffled flapping to tell that one had lost his equilibrium.
The turkeys were the most timid, stopping at every step to scrutinize the next one.
Chanticleer, red-combed, be-wattled and proud, displayed his superior prowess and
ability by flying from his roost to the ground and capturing a beetle which the com-
ing light had startled into temporary inactivity. By the picket fence inclosing the
garden rose the martin-pole, like a phantom finger, its top crowned by a home for
these tiny free-lances of the air. Already they were out, for they rise early, and
were circling around in the balmy atmosphere with twitters of delight, or sitting
very primly on the comb of their house, preening a feather into place which their
night's rest had disturbed. And all the time the light grew. The sky had
responded to the touch of the Great Magician. New colors had glowed upon that
background of infinity; had shone, paled and disappeared. As the tide of an over-
flow hides and submerges the forget-me-nots in a meadow, so the glorious flood of
light had rolled in overpowering waves up the high spaces of the firmament, and
had put out the stars one by one. In the deeper hollows and in the denser wood
night still lingered, clinging with somber caress to the things which it had
embosomed for the last eight hours. Driven steadily backward by its stronger
enemy, it held on tenaciously, withdrawing its ebon arms reluctantly from around
the bodies of the great trees which it had enfolded and fondled, loosening its dusky

3io NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

fingers from the twining tresses of the ferns, and lifting its closely held lips from its
long kiss on the surfaces of the spreading pool and the slowly moving stream. Then
all at once a huge red rim, radiating numberless shafts of light, was thrust above
'the horizon's edge.

The miracle was accomplished.

Ill
THE NEW OVERSEER

While the air was yet heavy with the faint suggestion of many perfumes, drawn
alike from blossom and leaf by that sorceress, Night, the day's work was shaping on
the Delford farm. Joshua had purchased a wheat harvester, the first of the kind
in the neighborhood, and it was to be given its first trial that morning. The
machine, if satisfactory, would minimize labor. Its purpose was to cut and drop
the grain automatically, thus doing away with the army of scythe men who hitherto
had performed this work. The tyers would follow behind it, binding the fallen
grain into bundles with a quick wrapping, using a slim handful of the wheat stalks
for this purpose, and making the whole fast by a cunning knot. The machine
looked complicated enough with its cogs and chains and shining gear, but it was
guaranteed to do the work claimed for it, and Joshua had faith that it would.

In an open space in front of the barn lot sat the harvester, Joshua examining it
with minute care and prodding at every hole visible in the machinery with an oil
can. To the jingling of iron trace chains, a mule and a horse were led up and given
their respective places on either side of the tongue. The mule was old but still
servicable and strong. He was graying about his muzzle, his teeth were yellow,
there was a galled spot on one of his withers where the collar had rubbed, and there
were long, black, hard places on his ribs which the traces had calloused. He took
his place with the precision and accuracy of a show horse, and awaited the word
to pull. Such had been his life since that day long ago when his strength had been
tamed and forced into obedience. The horse was young, high-headed, curly-maned,
powerful. A glance would have shown that he was new to the harness. He looked
askance and with dilated eyes at the strange thing as he was led by it to his post,
trembling a bit and snorting a trace of fear. Joshua was tightening a tap which he
had discovered in danger of falling off, and the black man was adjusting the hame-
strings under the mule's neck as Brewster, the overseer, got the young horse into
the proper position with difficulty. It was quite evident the animal was becoming
panic-stricken, but the overseer, a rough, brutal-looking fellow, gave the horse a
sharp blow on the nose with his fist, then walked back and bent down to fasten
the off trace. There came a shivering plunge, a kick, a snap like the breaking of
a piece of seasoned oak, and a fearful curse followed by a groan of agony. There
stood the frightened animal dancing on all four feet, and there lay Brewster his
length away, with one leg broken just below the knee.

Joshua Delford did not swear; he was too much of a man for that. But this
was a heavy blow to him and to the crops. Overseers were scarce as scarce could
be, and in another week his wheat would be ruined. He could not see to the har-
vest in person, and the rest of his help were black men. His neighbors were busy
in their respective fields, and he could not go to them to borrow a hand. As he
stood helpless and dumbfounded for a moment, with Brewster groaning at his feet
and the darky trying to calm the horse, he heard a strange voice, quiet but clear, say:

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 3I1

"Has there been an accident? Can I help you?"

Joshua turned quickly and dashed back the straw hat whose rim flapped over
his eyes. The tall, well-made figure of a man stood before him. A man perhaps
nearing thirty, with a clean-shaven face from which looked out a pair of remarkably
steady gray eyes. The man had on corduroy trousers, soiled and misshapen by
wear, a dark blue flannel shirt and the slouching straw hat which was more in evi-
dence then than any other. A bandana kerchief was knotted closely about his
throat. He stood in an easy attitude, but there was the look of latent strength
about him which the shrewd eye of Joshua caught, for while he had been living his
many years he had come to know men and horses.

"Mornin', sir," returned Joshua. "You've caught me in a purty pickle.

Down yonder in that bottom" — he waved his hand toward the south — "is as fine

a piece of wheat as ever come up, an' two more days '11 find it flat. It's dead ripe

an' the heads are droopin'. Yonder's my overseer" — he pointed at the prostrate

figure on the ground — "with his leg broke, I reck'n, from a kick this colt give 'im!"

"Wouldn't it be very well to get the gentleman to bed, and send for a doctor?"

"Lord bless me! I forgot about that!"

Brewster was trying to sit up, but he could get no further than his elbow.
The stranger walked to him and took hold of him under his armpits.
"Mr. Delford, can you handle his legs?. I'll take most of the weight."
A few moments later they were bearing the wounded man to the house. The
overseer's quarter's were in a neat frame cottage set a short distance from the negro
cabin. Here the two men carried him, and placed him upon his bed. He was
suffering miserably, for the fracture was a bad one. While Joshua went for some
of "the women," the stranger gently and deftly removed Brewster's clothing and
drew a quilt over him. When this was done Joshua returned with his wife and
Madeline Delford — Janet had nerves, and was easily thrown into hysterics — but it
was little they could do save put hot bandages upon the broken limb. A negro boy
was despatched for the doctor, and then things came to a standstill. The stranger
had retired to the further side of the room when he heard the farmer returning with
the ladies. Mrs. Delford did not differ from the common type. She was kindly of
face, bustling, and seemed markedly younger than her consort. When Madeline
Delford came in the stranger's eyes widened just the least bit. Here was an
alien to the farm, and to the humdrum life of a tiller of the soil. Her dress was
simple, but her bearing, her carriage, her figure, her slightest motion bespoke
refinement and became the expression of a rare and exquisite culture. The stranger
slipped outside and stood waiting for the appearance of the master, a feeling which
was neither pleasure nor pain throbbing in his heart.

"Mandy an' Mad'line '11 stay with him till the doctor comes," said Joshua,
hurrying out a few moments later, "an' minutes are dollars right now on this plan-
tation. I'm too old to do it, but I '11 have to go down to that wheat field."
"No you won't, Mr. Delford."

"Then what am I to do? I tell you the wheat '11 rot in a week!"
"I should be glad to accept the position of your overseer."
"It's a bargain! What's your name, an' where'd you come from?"
"My name is Daniel, John Daniel. I've worked all over a half dozen counties
within the past two years. I've never been discharged. I do not stay anywhere
long, but I promise to stay with you until your man gets upon his feet."

"I'm not exactly in a position to argy with you, but I s'pose you understand
your business?"

3i2 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

"Yes; I don't think you will have cause to complain of my incompetency."

A subtle gleam shot into the old man's eyes.

"You saw what that colt did to Brewster?"

"Yes."

"Are you 'fraid to hitch 'im up?"

"No."

"Come on. You're my overseer for the next three months, an' maybe longer."

Together they strode to the scene of the accident, Joshua discoursing volubly
on the magnificent crop which had been placed in jeopardy; the new comer
unusually silent and reserved. The negro had succeeded in quieting the frightened
horse, and this had been accomplished simply by turning the animal so that- he
could see the object which had scared him, and allowing him to gaze at it until his
curiosity was satisfied. Daniel went straight up to the brute and placed a firm but
caressing hand upon his muzzle. He smoothed out a few tangles in the mane,
rubbed his palm down the satin-like throat once or twice, then led the horse to his
place and hitched him up, moving without hesitancy and without the slightest
semblance of fear about those murderous hind hoofs. But the horse did not move,
and so it happened that within half an hour after Brewster was laid up with a broken
leg another man climbed to his seat on the new machine, and, the darky going in
front to show the way, they moved in a circuitous route to the river bottom field of
golden grain.

At the edge of the field another mule was added to the team, and when this
was done Joshua arrived, mounted on his favorite mare, to see that everything
started off right and to watch the work of the new machine. The field was a very
large one, fully half a mile long by a quarter broad, and in the bright morning sun
it seemed like a veritable sea of gold. Gentle ripples passed over its shining sur-
face; soft undulations which almost dazzled the eye. After a few brief instructions
from Mr. Delford, directed more to the corps of negro laborers than to the new
overseer, the machine started with rattle and clash, and the day's work was begun.
To the full length of the field Daniel went, adroitly turning the corner, there to
proceed at a right angle and ultimately to encompass the entire field. Working
with beautiful precision, the harvester cut and gathered the yellow treasure which
the earth had given up, held it for a time, and then gently laid it in neat, loose
fashion upon the ground. Daniel, his feet braced, his brown, sinewy hands grasp-
ing the lines firmly, drove steadily along. Carefully he guided the clattering, cum-
bersome thing upon which he sat, watching the saw-like blade dart back and forth,
watching the tender stalks shudder and leap up as a warrior might when stricken
to the death in battle, and turning at times to view the bristly path of stubble in
his wake. After him came the negro tyers, light-hearted and rollicking, gathering
in their brawny arms the fallen sheaves, wrapping some pliant withes about them,
making a knot with sly twist of finger and thumb, and striding on with careless feet
to where the next lay waiting.

- The sun mounted higher, and its rays fell like darts of fire upon the broad back
'of the driver. But he was insensible to their power. The ready perspiration
started .from each pore, and presently every thread in his shirt was damp, and
moisture ran from his forehead to his eyes and dropped from his chin. Two years
ago this would have killed him; he would have fallen to the ground from sunstroke.
But now he was seasoned; the sun was his friend. Occasionally, through the great
forest of tiny-columned grain, he would see a flower a-bloom and content though
submerged. Had there been a way of going around he would have taken it, for

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 313

flowers had their share in his reclaimed manhood; but to go straight forward was
his duty, so he would shut his eyes as the cruel teeth of the destroying blade drew
near the flower, and would not witness the slaughter of an innocent. Once he did
stop, just across from where Joshua Delford sat watching him, and instantly the
bellowing voice of the farmer called out to know if anything was wrong. The truth
was, a young rabbit, confused and frightened by the unusual din, had at last darted
just in front of the blade and sat there, dazed. Daniel pulled his horse and his
mules up until the little thing could scamper out of the way.

When the vertical rays of the sun became almost blinding in their intensity,
a welcome sound was heard in the harvest field. It was the farm bell calling the
toilers to dinner.

On the vine-shaded side porch Daniel washed the perspiration from his .hands,
face and neck, then called Joshua Delford aside.

"Where do your hired men eat?" he asked.

"The niggers eat on the kitchen porch, an' my overseer eats with me," replied
Joshua.

Daniel hesitated.

"I'd rather eat alone," he said at last, "but I won't ask you to go to that
trouble."

"Walk in; walk in," answered his employer, somewhat testily, "an' I'll
make you 'quainted with the women folks."

It was an uncommon sight to see a farm hand make the bow of polite society
in the dining room at Joshua Delford' s. Mrs. Delford and Janet paid no especial
heed to it — it meant nothing to them, but a half frown of wonder passed over the
face of Madeline. The long table was richly laden with all the good things which
can be found nowhere else in the world except upon a country table, and a young
negress stood to one side with a long-handled fly brush, which she wielded dex-
trously and with good effect. The fly brush consisted of a newspaper folded once
and sewed around the end of a piece of bamboo, then slit with a pair of scissors into
strips about an inch wide. The new man ate silently and with bowed head, speak-
ing only when compelled to accept or decline a proffered dish, and then his tones
were low, courteous and polished. Madeline Delford could not hold her gaze from
him. It is true her glances were surreptitious, but again and again her deep brown
eyes swept his face, his wonderfully fine shoulders, and even the shapely hands
which work had not disfigured, and the perfectly kept nails.

Soon after dinner work in the wheat was resumed, and not until the encroach-
ing shadows announced the approach of night did the clank and the rattle of the
harvester cease.

"Janet," said Madeline, as the two sat in their room that night to read a chap-
ter in the Bible before going to bed. "Janet, I believe uncle's new overseer is
a prince in disguise."

IV
THE GLIMMER OF THE DAWN

At his request, John Daniel was given quarters in the cottage with the sick
man. This building had two rooms and only one bed, but the overseer insisted
that he should take the vacant room, and provided himself with a rude bunk which
he said would be sufficient for his comfort. Another reason that he brought to bear

was that Brewster would need attention and some nursing, and that this was
a man's task, and he was going to take it. Old Joshua ranted around and declared
that no man could sit up all night and work all day, and that he didn't want two
men sick on his hands, but Daniel allayed his fears somewhat by saying he thought
he knew his own powers very well, and that he would promise not to over-tax them.
Should he discover that he was attempting too much, he would share his vigils
with someone else. So he had his way.

The country practitioner who attended Brewster set the broken bone and put
the leg in splints, stated that the patient must not touch the floor with his foot for
two months, left some medicine and some instructions in regard to diet, and
departed.

Daniel found his task more arduous than he anticipated. Physical labor, com-
bined with perfect physical health, calls imperatively for physical rest. The wheat
was cut and shocked the first week of his arrival; the stacking would follow the
next week. When he had smoked two pipesful of natural leaf tobacco after supper
Daniel was ready to go to bed. He had followed this course conscientiously through
many months of rigorous training, and it had helped in the recuperation of his
shattered strength more than anything else. But now his self-imposed duty inter-
vened. Brewster was not a heroic man. The slow knitting of the fracture was
exceedingly painful, and he groaned and tossed and cursed by turns. He could not
bear suffering silently. Daniel had to watch him almost as he would have watched
an infant. Only along toward morning, when he was pretty well exhausted and
worn out, did Brewster sleep. Then the watcher would fling himself down on his
bunk, and gain an all too brief repose.

But he never shirked his work and he never lagged while accomplishing it.
He seemed tireless, and would, by example, incite the men under him to greater
effort. Thus in some subtle way matters on the farm got in better shape than they
had been under Brewster's administration — than they had been for many a day.
Fences were mended, roads were improved, useless bushes and underbrush were
grubbed up, sagging gutters were made tight, and a thousand and one things
attended to which for years had gone undone. During these first days Daniel
worked feverishly. His loss of sleep, coupled to his daily labor, began to tell
upon him, but he would not admit it even to himself, and worked the harder in
order that he might forget it. One of the new rules which he had adopted was
never to give up a thing which he had once begun, and so he clung doggedly to
the herculean task which he had laid upon himself.

It was in the beginning of the second week of the new overseer's coming — on
Monday, in fact — that something happened which set the current of his life running
in an entirely new and unexpected channel. It was county court day, and quite
early that morning Joshua had his ancient but highly respectable rockaway
brought out and a gentle but speedy horse put to it. It would have been a sin
against all the established usages of his forefathers to miss going to Springfield on
county court day. For it was on this day, coming once a month, that friends and
aquaintances from all parts of the county met at a common point to rub shoulders,
clasp hands, swap old jokes, make trades, and, perchance, visit the bank.

Sunday night Brewster had slept very well, and as a consequence Daniel was
feeling fresher and more vigorous than he had for several days. The work of wheat
stacking was to go forward that morning, but a broken swivel-tree had caused
about an hour's delay, during which time, by the aid of vise and drawing-knife,
Daniel fashioned another from a piece of seasoned hickory. It was about the

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 315

moment when this task was finished that the big gate leading onto the pike clanged,
and the sound of a running horse's feet were heard. Hastening forward in some
alarm, Daniel and his helpers received the unwelcome news that the woods pasture
a half mile northeast of the house was on fire. The trees were threatened, also the
rail fencing. Daniel had not seen Joshua depart, but he knew that he was gone,
and the responsibility of protecting his employer's property immediately devolved
on him. Without a moment's hesitation, he called the negroes and started on
a run for the scene of the fire. It was reached quickly, and the task which
presented itself was discouraging. Part of the wood was in pasture and part was
uncleared, a mass of brambles and broken limbs and dead leaves and lifeless vegeta-
tion. It was here that the fire was raging. Either some miscreant had lighted
it maliciously, or else a careless fellow had dropped a match among the tinder.
The blaze was momentarily growing more formidable. There was no water to be
had near, so green bushes were hastily cut, and armed with these the men attacked
the climbing, spreading flames. It was hot work fighting fire on a June morning.
A new rail fence had recently been laid through this part of the pasture, and toward
it the fire was trending. Daniel lined his squad up in its path and gave battle
turiously. Whirling fumes of heat-laden smoke dashed in their faces, blinding and
strangling them. Yellow, serpentine flashes darted at them viciously, curling along
the bushes they held and lapping at their bare hands. Cinders and burning leaves
fell upon their heads and brushed, biting, against their necks. A rising wind made
the work all the more hazardous and trying. Daniel stood slightly in advance of
the black men, taking the brunt of the danger. But for him, the negroes would have
thrown down their weapons and given up. With such courage before their eyes,
they were ashamed to waver, and fought on, ducking their heads to the onslaught
of the flame and smoke and laying about them desperately. Most of the day the
brave little band labored and rested by turns. Just before sundown the fight ended,
and they were the victors. The blacks were sorely fagged and their eyes showed
red through the grime on their faces. Daniel's clothing was burned in a score of
places, while his left hand was burned and blistered badly. The stacking of the
wheat had been set back, but the day had not been wasted. Calling his exhausted
forces and commending them briefly for their conduct, Daniel set his face home-
ward. AS they climbed over the plank fence enclosing the yard, Daniel saw a
woman sitting on the portico, sewing. Mrs. Delford would doubtless be
glad to give him some oil and an old cloth with which to annoint and bind up his
hurt. The darkres shuffled to the rear to rest, and the white man stalked up to the
portico, holding his left hand in his right. Madeline Delford looked up from the
low rocking chair in which she was sitting as his foot pressed the step. She gave
a slight start, then a flood of color suffused her face. Daniel, looking at her in
undisguised surprise, realized all at once that she was very beautiful. He removed
his hat quite deferentially — his old straw hat, torn and discolored— and said in his
low, full tones:

"Pardon me, I thought you were Mrs. Delford."

The young lady arose quietly, holding her sewing in her hand. She was of
medium height, exquisitely proportioned, and possessed a wealth of jet-black,
curling hair, parted in the middle and drawn loosely back and coiled at the nape of
her neck. She answered with a slight smile:

"I did not know we resembled each other so much as that. Aunty is — fifty."

The man could not suppress the look of involuntary amusement which crept to
his eyes.

316

"I saw you from the road," he explained, his face immediately relapsing into
its accustomed immobility. "Is — Mrs. Delford here?"

"No; she went to town with uncle this morning. They haven't come back yet."

"Then is — is Miss Delford — Miss Janet, here?"

"No; she went too."

Daniel stood for a moment undecided.

"There's been a fire in the woods pasture," he said. "The negroes and I have
been fighting it all day. I — burned my hand a little, and I would like to get some
oil and a cotton cloth with which to dress it. I'm sorry, but if you know where
these things are kept and will get them for me, I shall be very grateful."

"Wait a minute," answered the young lady. "I think I can find them for
you." She placed her work in the chair and went indoors. Returning very soon
with a bottle in one hand and a cloth in the other, she walked straight up to him.
"Do you know how to do it?" she asked, looking squarely at him, but without
a trace of boldness.

Daniel felt his cheeks crimsoning under their soot and soil. "I've helped bind
up sprained ankles on the grid — ' he stopped and bit his tongue. The last word
spoken and he would have betrayed himself. "No — that .is — I fear — yes, I can
manage it, I think," he stammered, feeling himself growing woefully confused.

"You can do nothing of the sort," she returned. "Go to the porch and wash
your hands, then come back here and I will attend to it for you." He obeyed
meekly, wondering all the time why he did so. But this brief glance of the better
part of the old life was strangely alluding, and he felt that he was not guilty of
weakness in yielding to it. When he came back she had another chair placed by
her own. "Sit down," she said briefly. He did so. "Now hold out your hand."

As she applied the cooling oil to the tortured flesh, and with deft hands skilfully
wound the soft cloth about it, Daniel's heart trembled and the vistas of the past
opened. The touch of her fingers was as gentle as the caress of a twilight zephyr,
and as she bent her head over her work, Daniel looked at her and became conscious
of a sense of social starvation, for the first time since the new life began. He
became aware all at once that he had a right to her companionship, that he was her
equal in blood and breeding, and that his period of purification and reform had
made him a man again. Had she found him out? Almost he guessed she had —
but then, would she not have performed this act of mercy for the lowliest being who
trod the globe? With thread and needle the white hands stitched the bandage fast,
and finally the task was done.

"You had better let me put a new one on in two or three days," she said.
"That is an ugly burn."

"Thank you," he answered huskily, and arose and went back to the cottage.

THE SNARE OF A ROSE

Joshua Delford's home was on one of a series of slight elevations with their
corresponding small valleys between. The homes of the well-to-do countrymen of
this period were substantially the same as regarded architecture and color plan.
Joshua's was a large, two-storey frame building, painted white, with green shutters,
red tin roof and red chimneys. It had lightning rods, too, to guard against acci-

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 317

dent from that quarter. The ever present portico, above, and below, was built to
the front of the house, and about this Miss Janet industriously trained her vines
every Spring. The rooms were large, square and airy; the floors were covered with
rag carpets which Mrs. Delford had woven herself, and the walls were papered
simply. The beds were huge, old-fashioned, four-posted affairs, most of them fitted
with the rope mattress, an ingenious device often used in those days. All the water
the family used was obtained from a cistern fully a hundred feet away. This cistern
was plank-covered, weather-boarded in and had a roof over it. The water was
raised in an oaken bucket attached to a long chain, which in turn wound about
a windlass operated by an elbow handle. The farm house was carefully guttered,
and water was piped to the cistern along the tops of poles. Rain barrels sat at
three corners of the house, from which the stock drank when they were occasionally
turned into the vast yard to graze. Close to the cistern was the apple house, built
underground for the preservation of fruit in Winter. On the other side was the
granary, with its great tin-lined bins — Joshua Delford's treasure vaults. Just back
of the long side porch attached to the ell was a spring house, dug from the earth and
blasted from the rock, roofed with stone and piled high with dirt. Over all of this
was a light wooden structure. Stone steps led down into this spring house, where
crocks of golden butter and tins and jars of creamy milk were kept. It was always
cool down here; always fresh and sweet. On the west side of the house, at a suit-
able distance, were the smoke house and the hen house. The former, a tall, heavy
building into which no ray of light entered except through the low door, was nearly
always full of cured meat — juicy hamc and shoulders and luscious bacon. In the
center of the one room, upon the earthen floor, a pile of hickory ashes lay from one
year's end to the other, being renewed each Winter when the hog-killing season
came on. A few feet off from the smoke house was an ash hopper, with its home-
made trough beneath, where good Mrs. Delford obtained the lye for her soap.
Chicken coops also dotted this part of the yard, which was worn rather smooth by
busy, three-toed feet. Back of the yard was the garden, an important auxiliary to
rural housekeeping. All of the known vegetables grew within this garden, and
along the picket fence next to the house throve a bed of sage — for what sausage is
fit to eat without this element? The crib and the two stables were south of the
garden; also an old horse-power mill, now in disuse, where Joshua had in a far-off
time ground his own corn. Behind the stables a hill dropped abruptly down to the
rich bottom land, where cereals sprang from the dark, fertile loam year after year
in unfailing plenty. A road wound down this hill in a horseshoe curve and termi-
nated in a lane which led to a mill race bounding the southern side of the fields. A
narrow neck of land separated the race and the river. This was a small and incon-
sequent stream ordinarily, but there were times of freshet when its might was felt.
It rose rapidly and without warning, and its low banks offered but slight resistance
to the churning water when it came rushing down its bed. Upon these times the
lowlands were inundated, and oftentimes crops were ruined and swept away. The
dam was further up, and just below it was a famous place for bass, for the time of
which we write was before the day of the dynamiter. The fish nested in the Spring,
gliding under sunken rocks to deposit their eggs, and were easily caught by "feel-
ing." This consisted in diving and reaching under the rocks, when the fish would
swim up and poke their noses in the iatruding hand, and thus fall an easy prey.
While this was considered unsportsmanlike, yet it took a brave man to do it on
account of the many dangers attached thereto. There were also some excellent
pools for bathing along this stream, and Daniel sought this sylvan solitude as often

318 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for' DECEMBER, 1905

as he could to rest and refresh himself in the clear water.

Joshua was very open and prodigal in his praise when he came home and found
out what had happened. He ordered wheat bread (a special treat) made for the
darkies who had behaved so well, and called his overseer into his presence. Sitting
on the side porch, in a shuck-bottomed chair tilted back against a post — his favorite
seat and his favorite attitude — he waited till Daniel had reached the railing and
leaned upon it a few feet from him. Then he deliberately cut a chew of tobacco
with his horn-handled, hook-billed knife, placed the delicate morsel upon his tongue,
and spoke. "John, what about the fire in the woods pasture?"

The young man told him, in the fewest possible words, making the incident
as trivial as he could, and carefully keeping his left hand behind him.

"You's there all day, wasn't you?"

"Yes; till sunset."

"Anybody hurt?"

"No."

"What ye doin' with that han' tied up?"

"I burnt it."

"Uh-huh. Burnt it, an' yet nobody's hurt. Well, you lay off for a few days.
Pay' 11 go on. You can't do no good on a farm with one han'. One o' my niggers
c'n lay as pretty a stack o' wheat as ever you saw, an' I'll start 'im at it tomorrow."

"I'm not incapacitated for work."

"Nevermind; you need a rest anyhow. I've been watchin' ye, an' ye look
pulled down. Too much settin' up at night an' too much work in the day. How's
Brewster?"

"Doing nicely."

"I don't want 'im to get well too quick" — with grim humor — "for I don't mind
tellin' you that things are goin' better with you at the head of 'em. He'd 'a' seen
the house burn down before he'd let the fire touch him."

"Supper's ready, uncle," said a very sweet voice from the doorway of the
dining room. Daniel started the least bit as the tones broke on his ears so unex-
pectedly, and presently followed his employer in to the evening meal.

Doubtless it was chance — for what are we to judge a woman and her motives? —
that caused Madeline Delford to place a rose in her hair that evening. It was not
a white rose, nor a yellow rose, but a full-blown, blood-red rose which glowed like
a ruby in the dark coils just above the neck. And it was placed upon that side of
her head which would be next to John Daniel at supper. Then, too, she came in
tonight wearing a fichu made of some soft, filmy stuff which caught the lamp glow
drowsily. A wonderful garment is a fichu. It is an old, old conceit, but it is fear-
fully bewitching. It comes around the shoulders and knots loosely over the breast,
leaving the throat and the hollow in the neck bare, and perhaps an inch or two
below the neck. Madeline had a superb throat; it was round, firm, white, flawless.
So she wore the fichu and put the rose, the red rose, in her hair, — as she had a per-
fect right to do. For her quick perceptions had completed the word which John
Daniel had half spoken, half repressed on the portico not an hour before, and she
was an original girl and unafraid, though every inch a woman.

Daniel looked at her as he took his seat, and if his heart did not leap
it tried to. Her eyes were downcast, and the shadowy contour of her face
was dangerously enchanting. But Daniel maintained his customary reserve
throughout the meal, never speaking voluntarily, and all the time the leaven
of sweet, fresh, womanly beauty was working its miracle within him. When

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 319

supper was over he excused himself and left the table the first one, as usual.

Brewster was asleep when he reached the cottage, so Daniel sat down upon the
wooden doorstep, put his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palm, and fell
a-thinking. Briefly he reviewed his life since the night his father had sent him
away. His record had not all been white — how could it be! But from the first he
had striven with all of his debilitated and impoverished power to climb up again
into his rightful estate. The words of Roger Croft had torn the veil from his
mental vision; had shown him his soul naked, spotted and shrivelling away . Then
the old man had pointed him to the fount of healing water; had shown him the way
to moral cleanliness and physical worth, and bidden him go. He had gone. Out
into the world at night, almost as helpless as a, child, thrown abruptly and irretriev-
ably upon his own resources. He shuddered tonight as he thought of his first
struggles. They had been aimless; grotesque. He hardly knew what he wanted,
and within him all the time raged a devilish thirst. He was overcome once, twice,
several times, but at last he got a grip upon himself and felt the new dawn break-
ing about his beleaguered soul. And throughout his wanderings the words of his
father were never forgotten. He shunned the city, the town, even the village he
passed by, or tarried there but for a night. And so, slowly and with infinite labor
and supreme patience, nature reclaimed an erring child. For over a year now
nothing but pure water had passed his lips. The wasted and decayed tissues of
his body had been replaced by vital and vigorous ones. The lines upon his face
which had marked the tippler had been erased, metamorphosed into those which
a victor over self wears. The half-vacant, shifting look in his eyes had grown into
a steadfast gaze. The man had risen from the wreck.

He had never sent his father a single line. At first it was resentment — the
resentment of a strong nature made weak by dissipation. Then it was shame. As
his manhood was gradually reestablished, the full consciousness of what he had
done had assailed him mercilessly, and a keen sense of his dreadful behavior held
him back from the words he longed to write.

He sat on the steps and thought, and his thoughts turned homeward. Back to
the spreading house and the great trees and the green lawn, and the wilderness of
flowers. It seemed an earthly paradise tonight. He was alone and lonely, earning
his daily bread by the toil of his hands and the sweat of his brow. He took his
hands from his chin and looked at them. They were sunburnt, calloused. One
was so swathed that only the fingers were visible, but they were brown and sinewy.
Could they once have been the white, flabby, blue-veined hands which had toyed
with the wine glass and the gaming card? Now they were friends of the plow, the
saw, the spade, the sickle. He clenched the right one firmly, and he knew that the
knotted knuckles could have felled a bullock. Then his mind went back again to
the sleepy little town which was his birthplace — to Ivy Lodge, with its single, gray-
haired occupant. He heard voices on the side porch of the big house — one carried
further than the others, and its tones were honey-sweet. He found himself listen-
ing. It seemed that one of the negroes had divulged his heroic conduct at the fire,
and the family were discussing it. He heard his name — spoken by a peculiarly
charming voice — and an expression of admiration for his courage followed it.

He arose quietly and went in. The sick man was still sleeping. Going to his
room, Daniel lit a candle, set it upon the top of a goods box which served for his
trunk, and, finding a piece of blank paper and the stub end of a pencil, he knelt
by the box and slowly traced the words — "My dear father."

[To Be Concluded in January]

MAJE

By C. L. G. Anderson

WASHINGTON, DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA

ON the twenty-second day of October,
1899, the United States army trans-
port Sherigan was steaming due west
on the twenty-first parallel of north lati-
tude, pursuant to regulations governing
army transports sailing from San Fran-
cisco to Manila by way of Honolulu.
By keeping on the parallel they were
supposed to avoid the small islands lying
in the course to the Philippines.

As the preceding day was October 20,
it seemed to most of us that this
should be the twenty-first, but the cap-
tain said we had dropped that day as
we crossed the one hundred and eightieth
meridian during the night; and we took
his word for it, without knowing just
why it was so. "We will pick it up
going back," said he, and that set us
to wondering how many of us would live
to get back again.

In addition to her crew, the Sheri-
gan carried over two thousand officers
and men to support American authority
and put down insurrection in the Philip-
pines. There was one entire regiment
of volunteer infantry, a battalion of
regulars, a lot of rookies going out to
join their regiments, hospital corps men,
and a number of unattached medical and
other staff officers. Thank goodness,
there were no women aboard — the
greatest nuisances that ever afflicted a
crowded transport.

The necessity in that climate for a
siesta following luncheon had already
manifested itself, and nearly everyone
had indulged in it; but now officers and
men were beginning to turn out again —
the officers aft in their steamer chairs,
the men crowding everywhere else; most
of the latter sitting or lying on deck,
and many hanging over the rail, think-
ing of their homes now thousands of

miles behind them, or the fortunes
awaiting them in the eastern islands, or
of the two miles of water beneath them.

It was strange how these men, many
of whom could not swim across a duck
pond, and who had never seen deep
water until they sailed from San Fran-
cisco, would loll upon the rail, and even
go to sleep upon this narrow, swaying
berth, forty feet above the sea. Men
who would not go to sleep upon a fourth-
storey window sill, here lay prone on
a rail, eight inches wide, of a rolling
ship, in spite of the colonel's stringent
orders to the contrary. Several had
already been punished for it, but the
practice still went on.

There appears to be an innate cussed-
ness in many men — and some women —
prompting them to tempt fate; to risk
their own lives and often those of others,
when nothing is to be gained. In green
troops it is shown by disobeying
orders, and it takes many hard knocks
and long discipline to make them see
that orders are issued for their own good.

Private Lemuel Dawson, a lanky
mountaineer from Georgia, on account
of this inborn cussedness, exaggerated
by the -moonshine blood in his veins,
was particularly prone to get himself
into forbidden places. Finding no deck
room unoccupied by men or tobacco
juice — another breach of discipline — he
stretched his lengthy form upon the rail,
with an arm about a shroud giving a
false feeling of security. There was no
officer in sight, and the sentinel on
guard had not yet acquired that sense
of personal responsibility which makes
a soldier when on duty report a breach
of discipline by his best friend as quickly
as when done by a stranger. Dawson
pulled his campaign hat over his eyes,

" MAJE"

321

and the heat and the gentle roll of the
ship soon induced a languorous slumber
in which he dreamed that he was shoot-
ing revenue officers with his squirrel
rifle in far-away Georgia.

Among the officers aft appeared Major
Morgan, in pajamas and slippers, on his
way to the bath in order to take a
shower before dressing for the evening.
After the oppressive heat of his cabin
the air felt refreshing, and he tarried
a while to enjoy the sea and sky. The
latter was cloudless and the water was
that deep, indigo blue seen only over
great depths, changing to emerald when
disturbed by wave or wake, and capped
by snowy foam when it broke upon itself.

Major Morgan was one of the many
regular officers who had received com-
missions of increased rank in the volun-
teers. A soldier by breeding and in-
clination; a gentleman, strong physi-
cally, mentally and morally; reserved
and dignified, yet approachable; pro-
ficient in his profession, trusted by men
and pleasing to women; and who always
did his whole duty and a little more.

He had done many good things in the
Indian country, in desperate straits on
the march in the blizzards of the North-
west, and in the burning deserts of Ari-
zona. After a long detail at frontier
posts, he had been assigned as instructor
of tactics at the Point, and had just re-
turned from the Santiago campaign,
where he and other company command-
ers had forced Spain off the western
hemisphere.

So far, he had received but conven-
tional commendations for gallant and
meritorious services. However, the
desire for honor and glory never slum-
bers in the breast of a true soldier, so
when congress tardily passed the Act
of March 2, 1899, creating the Philip-
pine Volunteers, Captain .Morgan ap-
plied for a commission; but it is
doubtful if his splendid record alone
would have been sufficient to get it,
bad his application not been backed

by family influence and senatorial pull.

His previous service made him the
ranking major, and, with the exception
of the colonel, he was the most im-
portant officer in his regiment. Major
Morgan loved his profession and took
a keen interest in breaking in the new
officers and men. Everybody recognized
that there was no nonsense about the
major.

A few brief weeks had been taken up
with the enlistment, equipment and drill
of the regiment; then the journey across
the continent, a few days in camp at
the Presidio, and embarkation on the
transport.

And here he was on his way to the
far-away Philippines, holding a high
command, with new opportunities open-
ing up before him. What possibilities
for fame and distinction lay in those
islands which he had scarcely heard of
until Dewey's battle of Manila Bay!
His main fear was that his regiment
would arrive too late for any fighting
and chance of making a record. (Dur-
ing the next two years he got all the
fighting he cared for, but he could not
foresee that). And then he thought of
the woman back in God's country whom
he had not seen for nearly two years,
but at whose feet he desired to lay all
the honors of war.

"Man overboard! Man overboard!"
was sung out forward and quickly re-
peated over the deck. In an instant every-
body crowded to the rail and gazed over
the side. A few cool heads looked around
for life preservers to cast overboard.

When Major Morgan heard the cry he
sprang to the rail just in time to see a
pair of khaki leggings and campaign
shoes disappear in the water. A hasty
glance about revealed no life preserver,
but in a twinkling he picked up his large
bamboo reclining chair and threw it aft
with all his might toward the ripple
where the man had gone down. Was it
the violence of his effort, together with
an unusual lurch of the ship? Was it the

322

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

natural instinct of one to save a fellow-
man; or was it the trained impulse of
the soldier always to do and dare, that
carried him over? Only the psycholo-
gist can determine. Anyhow, over the
side went the major, in as pretty a dive
as anyone would wish to see. As he
dove his first sensation was one of com-
plete enjoyment. There was no danger
of striking bottom, and he could let him-
self go. When he came up he blew the
water out of his nostrils and wiped his
eyes. Following logically his instinct
to save that soldier, he looked hurriedly
around. At first glance he could see
nothing of him, but as the long swell
carried his vision higher he perceived
the object of his plunge bobbing in the
wake of the steamer and making frantic
efforts to lift himself out of the water.
A dozen masterful strokes and the major
was by his side, just in time to support
him and give him confidence.

After Dawson (for of course it was our
mountaineer) had choked and spluttered
a while, and gotten some of the water
out of his throat, the major managed to
get him fairly quiet. Then he looked
around for his chair. He did not see
it, but espied a life preserver near at
hand. He told Dawson to turn on his
back, and at the same time gave him the
necessary twist. Telling him to throw
back his head and keep his body stiff,
he took him by the back of his blue
flannel shirt and towed him slowly to-
ward the life preserver. Reaching it,
he passed it over the man's head and
under his arms, and adjusted the ropes.

The soldier being provided for, the
major felt relieved, and took a look
around for the ship. She was a long
way off and appeared to be continuing
on her course. However, as the sea
was smooth, he thought surely they must
make some effort to -rescue them, and
possibly had already lowered a boat.
Thinking those aboard would be anx-
iously scanning the sea for them, he
waved an arm every time the swell

carried him upward. All the while he
was looking out for his chair, which he
knew could not sink, and it soon ap-
peared riding upright over the crest of
a wave. He swam to it, and also found
another life preserver floating near it.
He secured both, and gradually worked
back to Dawson, who was still very
much frightened and ill at ease. With
the ropes on the life preservers he lashed
them both to the chair, and thus formed
a very efficient raft, upon which he
crawled and took some much needed
rest.

He now had an opportunity to realize
the gravity of their situation, and specu-
late upon the chances of being rescued.

The major was an expert swimmer
and believed that with the means at
hand he could look after Dawson and
himself for a considerable time, provided
the sea got no rougher. But the most
serious menace that confronted them
was that the sun was near setting and
darkness would soon envelope them and
hide them from the sight of those on
board. At the worst, the major thought
they could keep afloat all night, but
where would the Sherigan be in the
morning; to say nothing of danger from
monsters of the deep?

And now occurred an incident that
can be appreciated only by trained
soldiers.

"Stop your struggling," said the
major, "and let yourself drift; you can't
sink."

"All right, Maje," replied the igno-
rant recruit. No greater affront can be
offered an officer than to call him
"Maje," "Cap," or "Lieut," as the
case may be. In spite of their peculiar
situation, and the fact that both might
be food for fishes before another sun,
the officer felt that he could not over-
look such an indignity from an enlisted
man.

In post or camp, the major would
never have dreamed of putting his hands
on a soldier in punishment, but in the

" MAJE

323

water he resorted to the swimmer's
remedy.

Quick as a flash, he grabbed Dawson
by the hair and pulled his head under
water. "Don't you call me 'Maje,' or
I will drown you," said the major when
he let him up.

"Excuse me, Major, I meant no —
nothing," said Dawson, after he had
recovered his breath.

"Very good; now keep quiet and do
as I tell you."

Dawson was now more afraid of the
major than he was of the sea, and there-
after was quiet and tractable.

By this time the ship had turned
broadside on, and they could see her
decks crowded with dark masses which
they knew to be men. Every time the
long Pacific swell carried them higher
they both waved their arms, hoping to
be seen by those aboard.

And they were seen by those aboard.
Indeed, from the moment they struck
the water nearly every eye on the
steamer was anxiously peering for them.
The ship's officers and army officers had
covered them with glasses all the time.

Immediately upon the cry of "Man
overboard!" the engines had been
stopped and preparations made to lower
a boat. But it takes a steamer under
way a long time to slow up, and when
the major had a chance to look around
for the transport she was already far
away. When she appeared broadside on,
she was lowering a boat on the other
side, and willing hands were pulling
with all their might toward the point in
the sea at which they were last seen.

The steamer blew her whistle every
time the major and Dawson waved their
arms, and hope became more confident
in all hearts. Pretty soon the big trans-
port had turned and was steaming back
on her course. The major could now
see a signal flag moving on the bridge.
Yes, they were wigwagging a message
to him, but as yet he could not read it.
After catching a few letters he would be

carried down in the trough of the sea
and lose the rest. B-o-a-t— r-e-s-c-u-e—
b-r-a-v-e, he made out after a time, and
he signaled back O. K. the best he
could with his arm. He understood that
a boat had been lowered and began to
look out for it. While the steamer
loomed up plainly, the small boat was
still out of sight. The two men and
their float were now visible to the naked
eye aboard ship and every time they
waved their arms they were answered by
tremendous cheers.

Thinking to help the small boat
locate them, the major directed Dawson
to shout with him at intervals, and they
were soon rewarded by seeing her white
bows headed toward them. As she
came within hail, the major sung out to
the mate in charge: "We are alright,
Brown, take your time."

The boat was soon up with them, and
strong arms helped them aboard, not
forgetting the life preservers and the
major's chair. The rescue was clearly
seen from the steamer, and when the
men realized that the major and Daw-
son were as well as ever, they were
frantic with joy.

During the return to the transport the
major asked Dawson how he came to fall
overboard. "I reckon I went to sleep
on the rail," replied he.

"Very well!" When you get back to
the ship report to the surgeon, and if
he says your are all right, go to your
quarters in arrest."

"Yes, sir," said Dawson, awkwardly
saluting.

The transport was now near and a
few strokes brought them alongside.

The kodak is almost as essential to
the modern soldier as his rifle or mess
kit, and in spite of the waning sunlight,
the click of the cameras was like the
firing of a Colt automatic gun.

The boat was drawn up to the davits
with a cheery "heave ho," and when the
major clambered on deck the first to
greet him was his colonel, and the next

324

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

General Mack, who was going out to
command a department in the Philip-
pines.

It happened that the battalion of
regulars aboard belonged to the major's
old regiment, and they all said it was
no more than they expected him to
do.

Everyone commended his bravery
and daring; but to all he disavowed any
intent of jumping overboard, and stated
that he didn't know just how he got in
the water — "probably the thought of a
swim in the sea was uppermost in my
mind when the man fell overboard, and
I just went after him."

The incident made the major the most
respected man aboard, endeared him to
his brother officers and made him a
hero to the men of his new regiment,

who, up to this time, had looked upon
him more as a martinet.

As for private Lemuel Dawson, he
duly reported to the surgeon, who
marked him fit for duty; and he then
went to his first sergeant and reported
himself in arrest by order of Major Mor-
gan. The colonel, however, thought the
lesson for Dawson and the other soldiers
had been sufficiently severe, and or-
dered him returned to duty without trial.
Needless to say, there was no more
sleeping on the rail.

Among his comrades, Dawson never
failed to find an eager audience when
relating his experience, and never
omitted telling how the major had
threatened to drown him for calling
him "Maje."

"And he'd a done it, too," he added.

ON A DILETTANTE

By Nathan Haskell Dole

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

THERE seemed no reason he should not be great:
The wisest masters gave him their advice;

He had the means to pay them any price;
His taste, his touch, his talent were innate;
He felt no spur of haste; 't were good to wait.

Each year his delicacy grew more nice

Until a shade of dilettante spice
Became his one predominating trait.
Now had he fought with direst poverty,

Known hunger, faced despair, lost love, missed wife,
But showed the truth as one whose eyes may see

Its beauty thro' the counselling of life,
He might have held the world of art in fee

And won his crown as conqueror in the strife.

THE AMERICAN WOMAN AS A
SALON - BUILDER

By Lucy Semmes Or rick

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

THE general assumption that the American
woman is the feminine force of the world
today is a fair one — in some respects. She
spends money more lavishly, rules her house-
hold more absolutely, and dismisses her hus-
band more easily than any other woman of
any other age. But while a force she may
not be an intellectual force; and, however
else others may look upon the situation,
these flaunting evidences of the American
woman's rule do not overshadow the fact
that she has carefully ignored or missed en-
tirely that broader opportunity for power
in which have grown very great the women
who could be great, namely, that realm which
in the days gone by found a home in the
salons of women.

No one can doubt that the American wo-
man is peculiarly fitted to rule over such an
empire. In her natural mental alertness,
national initiative quality, the latitude allow-
ed her, and the necessarily enormous influ-
ence she might wield for state and the men
who are universally acknowledged to be the
husbands par excellence, she contains within
herself the basic elements of leadership.
Considering this and her own feverish love
of excitement, supplemented by that pre-
eminent American characteristic — an over-
weening love of supremacy - - it is strange
she could for a moment ignore her opportu-

nity and thus expose herself to an imputa-
tion of inferiority to any other creature on
the face of the globe, even to women who
are long years buried. But she has done
so. She has neglected that centuries-old
nucleus of woman's far-reaching power — the
salon. She does not even attempt this king-
dom of her own which presupposes a gather-
ing of the mighty minds of the country,
throbbing with genius and power, creating,
directing, moved unconsciously to their
highest efforts by that marvellously stir-
ring, velvet-covered force, the mind of
a brilliant, skillful, diplomatic woman.

THK AMF.RICAN WOMAN OF TODAY

326

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

ijm

MEN ARE ABSENTING THEMSELVES MORE AND MORE FROM
WOMEN'S AFFAIRS

With the field before her, the American
woman still rests idle. It may be urged
that the husbands object on the score of a
certain vulgarity which Americans them-
selves attach to politics. But state affairs
should never be vulgar, and American wom-
en are absolutely free. The women of king-
doms and empires have made and unmade
nations without detracting one iota from the
charm which is a woman's crown; those
lesser lights of the powers around the throne,
De Stael, Roland, du Deffand and the level-
headed duchesses of England who know so

well how to preserve the happy balance be-
tween extremes, have demonstrated what the
powers might do when those were women
and the throne was a man. Why, then,
should the American woman pass by a field
of the greatest possible influence ?— she who,
if she chose, would tamper with the conduct
of the universe. It is safe to assume that if
she had felt any inclination toward that
higher intellectual communion afforded by
6*nly one sort of gathering in the world, that
of able, deep-minded men, and brilliant, re-
ceptive women, she would have indulged it.

THE HOME

327

But she has shown no such inclination. Not
since the days of Dolly Madison, who was
the nearest approach in America to her
French prototypes, has anyone even glanced
at her place.

There must be some reason for this shirk-
ing of a superb possibility, a shirking the
more marked because it falsifies that Ameri-
can trait of traits, the almost superhuman
quality of seizing opportunities. And there
is a reason. It is not that the American
woman fears her inability to cope with the
situation, but that she has been made too
much of by the husbands who are without
peers. She is given too much freedom.
High living and accompanying indulgence
have dissipated her energy and developed
an enormous egotism, unconscious though
it be,which requires independent prominence,
so positive that it admits of no division,
much less of a judicious self-obscuration
which is the crowning requisite of the salon-
builder. The American woman of leisure
has no time. Leisure is so rare for her that
she would not recognize it if it came to her.
Her life is too full of the useless, utterly use-
less, hurry and strain of the twentieth century
to allow the cultivation of repose and the
conservation of energy that would make her
great. She lives in a whirlpool of pleasure.
As a consequence, her men are growing away
from her — these men tired out by ten hours
mad rush of work, want rest— rest for some-
thing better than dances and cards and ani-
mal parties. Lo — the women's opportunity
is here if they would only see it, but they do
not and the men are absenting themselves
more and more from women's affairs. The
noble conversation and flashing wit which
might magnetise them are withheld until they
are lost. Conversation, that fine art of a
woman's highest accomplishments, is pass-
ing ; and as for listening, who stops to listen
these days with other than a bland, wander-
ing smile and secret anxiety that he who
speaks would cut speech short ? Yet out of
all these things, out of great intellects, great
thoughts, brilliant exchange of repartee and
the gracious gift of listening, the genius, we
might say, of listening, the soil upon which
conversation roots and flourishes, grew the
charm, the fascination, the world- ramifying
influence of the French salon.

No, the American woman may not know
it, but she is not exactly generous, loth as
one is to say it. She is charming, lovable,
beautiful, exquisitely gowned, but, in cold
English, sh2 is self-centered. She will luxu-
riate in her husband's lavish providence for
her, but she will no longer lend her sparkling
wit and tactful allurements to the drawing

out of his possibilities, caressing and mould
ing toward perfection those larger concep-
tions of his mind to which the brain of a
woman may never give birth. She has culti
vated a false idea of values ; she no longer
sees that a woman to shine in any real re-
splendent light must, to a certain extent,
reflect that of her men ; that she is only great
in ministering to their greatness. She no
longer sees this, therefore she will never be
a salon-builder.

The woman who might have accomplished
this, the Southern woman of the past, is
gone. With the wiping out of the old South
and all that beautiful life which was the
apotheosis of woman's attitude toward men,
passed the character who might have im-
mortalized her sex in gatherings as great as
any of those of other centuries that have
stirred men to grandeur of action and written
the name of the feminine guiding spirit on
the lengthening scrolls of time.

CHOICE RECIPES FOR CHRIST-
MAS CANDIES

By Katherine E. Megee

WAYNESBORO, VIRGINIA

DROWN ALMOND BAR: Put two pounds
*•* light brown sugar into a clean granite
sancepan ; add two-thirds cup of cold water
and one-third teaspoon cream of tartar. Put
over the fire and when it begins to boil add
one pound shelled almonds, stirring them in
slowly. Boil until the nuts will slide off the
lifted spoon easily. Then pour into a but-
tered cooling tin, and when cool cut into
strips. To make peanut bar, substitute two
pounds peanuts for the almonds.

HONEY TAFFY : Pour over one pint white
sugar enough water to dissolve it ; add four
tablespoons strained honey. Boil to the
hard crack. Pour out on greased pans, and
let remain until nearly cold. Then pull on
a hook.

SLICED COCOANUT BAR: Cook two
pounds best granulated sugar, two-thirds of
a cup of water, and a pinch of cream of tar-
tar, without stirring, to hard-crack in water ;
then add slowly one cocoanut pared and
sliced very thin. Stir thoroughly, then pour
into a buttered pan. When cool, cut into
any shape desired.

328

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

CHOCOLATE CONES: Put one pound best
granulated sugar into a saucepan ; add half
a cup of water, and with a wooden spatula
stir over the fire until the sugar is dissolved.
Then remove the spatula and cook without
stirring until the syrup soft-balls when a
little of it is tested in ice water. Pour slowly
but in a steady stream into a bowl that has
been lightly brushed over with oil or water.
Do not scrape the sides of the saucepan or
the syrup will granulate. Have ready in a
bowl six ounces melted chocolate. Divide
the sugar mixture into two parts and into
one pour one-third the melted chocolate and
vanilla extract to season to taste. Stir until
a stiff mass is formed ; then shape into small
cones and drop them upon buttered paper.
Put half the remaining cream mixture into a
cup and stand it in boiling water ; add vanilla
to flavor and stir over the fire until of the
consistency of thick syrup. Take the cup
to the table and dip half the cones, one at a
time, into it, coating each thoroughly. To
the remainder of the creamed sugar add the
remainder of the melted chocolate and two
tablespoons boiling water. 'If too thick, add,
drop at a time, more boiling water, until of
the consistency desired. Dip the rest of the
cones in it. Although the above process
seems a tedious one, the result will make
amends for the extra time and labor spent.

BUTTER SCOTCH : Put three pounds light
brown sugar, one-half cup molasses, four
even tablespoons butter and one-half tea-
spoon cream tartar over the fire and boil
until it is quite brittle when tested in ice
water. Add a few drops of any flavoring
desired, pour into a greased pan and when
cool mark into squares.

MARSHMALLOWS: Soak two ounces white
gum arabic in eight tablespoons of water
one hour. Stand the vessel containing it in
a pan of boiling water, place on the back of
the range, stirring occasionally, until the
gum arabic is dissolved. Then strain
through a fine meshed sieve. Add seven
ounces best granulated sugar, put into a
double boiler and stir over the fire until
thick and white. Take from the fire, flavor
with vanilla, beat hard and with a quick
motion for five minutes ; then pour into a
bowl containing the whipped whites of four
eggs, beating with one hand while pouring
with the other. Beat the whole thoroughly,
then turn into a pan well dusted with corn
starch. When cold, cut into squares and
dust each square with corn starch. Pack in
tin boxes.

COCOANUT FUDGE : Boil together, until it
soft-balls when tested in ice water, two cups
granulated sugar, and two-thirds of a cup of
sweet milk. Just before taking from the
fire, stir in one cup finely grated cocoanut
and a rounded tablespoon of butter. Take
from the fire, add a few drops of lemon ex-
tract, then beat the mixture until it begins
to thicken. Pour out on buttered tins and
when cold enough cut into cubes.

COFFEE CARAMELS : Put one pound light
brown sugar into a clean granite saucepan ;
add one cup strong clear coffee, one-half cup
sweet cream and one tablespoon butter. Put
over the fire and boil, without stirring, until
it will hard-crack when a little is dropped
into cold water. Then pour into greased
cooling tins and, when cool enough, mark
off into inch squares.

DECEMBER WORK IN THE
WINDOW GARDEN

By Eva Ryman-Gaillard

GIRARD, PENNSYLVANIA

THE principal work of this month lies in
the care of plants already potted and
growing and perhaps the greatest care will
be given to the bulbs which are expected to
furnish blooms for Christmas decorations.

If the buds seem to be well developed but
not coming above the neck of the bulb as
they should, water them with warm water to
which a tiny pinch of nitrate of soda, or salt-
petre, has been added. Do not give the
stimulant oftener than once a week, and not
at all if the buds are coming up well.

It is sometimes a help to place a paper
funnel over the plant, leaving the top opening
about a quarter of the size of the base, or in
other ways to get all the light above the bud,
in order to induce it to grow upward.

If geraniums, or other plants which pro-
duce their blossoms at the end of branches,
show a tendency to grow to one stalk, lose
no time in pinching them back, to force a
growth of lateral branches and get many
blooming points. It is better to sacrifice the
first blossoms and have many more, later on.

It is a question of form too, for the pinched-
back plant will become a stocky, bushy plant
much more beautiful than any spindling
stalk could ever be.

THE HOME

329

A HAPPY CREEK WATER BABY

Photographed by W. F. Helton, Baltimore

Plants growing in pots need cultivation as
much as those in the garden, and the surface
of the soil should be worked loose very
frequently. A discarded table fork, or a
strong hairpin will serve every purpose of a
cultivator.

When cultivating the soil in large pots
or tin dishes, examine it as deep down as
possible to learn how much moisture it is
holding. Many times, when the surface soil
has dried out and, seemingly, needs water,
an examination will show that deeper down
it is too wet for the good of the plant.

Insects of all sorts and sizes must be
watched for, and this is particularly true
when plants are brought from green-houses.
Florists are supposed to be careful, and un-
doubtedly are, but in spite of their watchful-
ness many plants sent out by them are in-
fested with insects of one kind or another,
and the buyer must keep close watch or they
will quickly find their way to every plant in
the collection.

Fresh air and sunshine, and plenty of
moisture in the air, are helps in keep-
ing plants free from the various insect
pests, but "eternal vigilance" and the
"ounce of prevention" are parts of the

price to be paid for freedom from them.

Very few plants suffer from too much sun
on their foliage, or on the surface of the soil,
but very many suffer from letting the sun
shine directly on the side of the pot for
hours at a time.

When a pot stands exposed to the sun-rays
as focused through glass it gets so hot that
the roots of the plant in it are, practically,
baked. Keep the pots below the level of
the window sills, or put something between
them and the glass.

Each point named is of itself a little thing,
yet each one has an important bearing on
the success or failure of our window gardens,
and to overlook them is to invite failure, to
a marked degree, in spite of care given in
other ways.

MEALS IN THE KITCHEN: A
MAN'S IDEA

(From the Boston Journal)
«|N ten years," says a well known physi-
I cian, "only those women will endure ser-
vants in their houses who are afflicted by
necessity."

330

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

THE FOOTBALL BOY

"What will the others do?" someone asked.

"They will do as their grandmothers," was
the reply.* "They will serve their meals in
the kitchen^1 and live simply— and they will be
the healthier and the happier for it."

Support of this forecast is offered by the
magazines on home-building. The more
progressive they are the simpler are the
houses they exploit. Parlors are omitted
altogether ; the great, wasteful, mistaken hall
is giving way to one just large enough for
its normal uses ; walls are being kept bare
in occasional spots, and the whole downstairs
is being so contracted that the preparing
and serving of meals need consume only the
least possible time.

Why do we live as we do, anyway? In
the old days meat, vegetables, and dessert
meant a dinner. Now we need soup, fish,
meat, salad, game, pudding, ices, coffee and
cheese. There is no use quarreling with the
appetite. If we want that variety, editorials
in the newspapers will not argue it away.
But we need not use up a whole pantry to
serve it.

This is one key to the servant question,
both as to the difficulty of keeping the slavey
and the impossibility of getting a good one,

What is needed is a clerk from a china store,
» not a servant. And when more women fol-
low the lead of the home-making magazines
and do their own work, there will be a great
doing away with all this extravagance.

MARGUERITE'S MISTAKE
By Eleanor W. F. Bates

ROSLINDALE, MASSACHUSETTS

ETHEL and Helen and Marguerite
Had for their lunch a little treat, —
Dates that were luscious and brown
sweet.

and

They laughed and talked as they ate, and so,
( For laughing takes up the time, you know )
Small Ethel was just a wee bit slow.

Marguerite looked at the dainty pet
And cried, "Why, baby ! did you forget?
You haven't eaten your figures yet ! ' '

LITTLE HELPS FOR HOME-
MAKERS

For each little help found suited for use in this de-
partment, we award one year's subscription to the
National Magazine. If you are already a subscriber,
YOUB SUBSCRIPTION MUST BE PAID IN FULL TO
DATE IN ORDER TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIf
OFFER. You can then either extend your own term
or send the National to a friend. If your little help
does not appear, it is probably because the same idea
has been offered by someone else before you. Try
again. We do not want cooking recipes, unless you
have one for a new or uncommon dish. Enclose a
stamped and self-addressed envelope if you wish us
to return or acknowledge unavailable" offerings.

FOR SUDDEN DEAFNESS

By C. H. M. KING
Citronelle, Alabama

For sudden and unaccountable deafness : Dissolve
a tablespoonful cooking soda in one-half cupful boiling
water. Every morning, for a week or two, take out
one-half teaspoonful of this, suitably warm, into it
drop five drops pure glycerine and pour into the ear,
and hold the head over until none runs out. At the
end of a week or two, syringe the ear thoroughly with
warm water. These two remedies have been success-
fully tested in my own family.

FOR A SQUEAKING DOOR

By C. A. U.

Salem, Massachusetts

Rub soap on bottom of sill ; if the difficulty lies in
the hinges dip a feather in kerosene and apply, swing-
ing door to and fro gently.

THE HOME

331

WASHING HANDKERCHIEFS

By MRS. A. G.
Hillsdale, Michigan

On wash-day soak badly soiled handkerchiefs a half
hour or more in a basin of warm water to which has
been added a generous handful of salt. All that is
objectionable will be removed and they may then be
washed as usual.

A POINTER FOR THE BOYS

By ONA ELLIS SMITH
Guthrie Center, Iowa

When my twin boys demanded their " rain " shoes
recently I was discouraged to find that they wouldn't
go on their feet. "They are too little," I said. "Non-
sense," said Grandma, "they are only stiff; they have
been put away without being properly oiled. Apply
equal parts of kerosene and castor oil with a woollen
cloth and then see how easily they will slip on." I did
so and she was right. The boys are happy with their
"castor-oiled" shoes.

RIDDING A LAWN OF ANTS

By THOMAS \V. VOSE
Bangor, Maine

To rid the lawn and other places infested with
pismires ( ants ) , secure a bottle of bi-sulphide of car-
bon (at any drug store). Make a hole in the center of
a common-size ant's nest with a stick or other instru-
ment—say one inch in diameter — reaching to the bot-
tom of the nest. Into this hole pour three dessert
spoonsful of the liquid, and close the top of the open-
ing. Large nests will require more holes and liquid.
After twenty years of strenuous efforts with kerosene,
hot water, etc., with little success except to deface the
lawn, my troubles ended with the use of the above
liquid and method of its use.

PREVENTING TEA STAINS

By MRS. F. A. F.
Gulfport, Mississippi

Put a lump of sugar in the teapot and it will prevent
tea staining any damask, however fine, over which it
may be spilled.

CUTTING SOAP EASILY
By M. F. R.

To cut soap easily, first dip the knife in boiling
water.

FILLING SALT CELLARS

By MRS. L. A. FERGUSON
Loveland, Colorado

Salt and pepper shakers can be quickly and neatly
tilled by the use of a small funnel placed in the mouth
of each.

PREVENTS SOGGY PIE-CRUST

By MRS. M. A. F.

Cedarvale, New York

Pie crust will not be soggy if brushed over with the
white of an egg before the fruit is put in.

FROM A MISSIONARY IN CHINA

By H.
Kiu Kiang, China

A Chinese plan for removing ink stains from cloth
is to wash them with boiled rice. Rub the rice on the
stain as you would soap, and wash with clear water.
If the first application does not complete the cure, re-
peat the process. We have found this to work like
magic, even upon stains not discovered until perfectly
dry.

A CLOTHES-PIN APRON

By MARY E. GILMORE

Eldorado, Kansas

It is made of common bed-ticking and has two large
pockets. This is much handier than a box or basket,
for the apron can be buttoned on, and the pins are
always in reach. I put the pins into the pockets when
gathering in the clothes and have a special nail to
hang it on.

SUGGESTIONS

By MRS. M. M. DUDLEY

Eureka, California

To prevent the oil-cloth sticking to the table, first
cover the table with common wrapping paper.

Anything mixed with water requires a hotter fire
than if mixed with milk.

Paste made with laundry starch is best for scrap
books. It will not then grow yellow with age.

To clean alapaca, sponge with strained coffee. Iron
on the wrong side.

Whole cloves are better for exterminating moths
than either tobacco or camphor.

CAMPAIGN AGAINST

By ALICE M. STEEVES
Boston, Massachusetts

A unique campaign against dirt is being successfully
carried on by the "Woman's Health Club." The duty
of each member is to study the conditions regarding
health sanitation and hygiene, whenever and wherever
the opportunity presents itself; and these observa-
tions are compiled into booklets, and distributed from
time to time. Several endowments have been received,
and the work endorsed by many of the leading educa-
tors of the country. An edition of ten thousand
booklets entitled "Clean Food and the Public Health"
has just been issued. Readers of the National can
have a booklet free on receipt of a two-cent stamp
by Dr. Alice M. Steeves, Secretary, 226 Berkley-
Street, Boston.

By MYRTLE GARRISON
Palo Alto, California

When the flowers begin to fade on your. Summer
hat, don't take them off and destroy them, but simply
try your water-colors on them, and you will find them
quickly restored to their natural beauty. Touch up
each flower with the original color, making them much
brighter— as water-colors dry much lighter. The
will not take the stiffness out of the flowe:
a good and inexpensive way to keep your
fresh.

332

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

WHISKEY FOR A BOIL

By H. P.
Canton, Ohio

Keep a cloth saturated with whiskey upon a boil,
and it will "head" in from two to three hours.

APPLES IN MANY DISHES

By MRS. J. R. BEEBE
New Rockford, North Dakota

Here, in our comparatively new state of North Da-
kota, great fields of grain demand the farmer's atten-
tion, and, as yet, little thought has been given to fruit
raising. Our fruit and berries are brought from afar
and are very expensive.

We therefore depend much upon apples, of which
large quantities are shipped in at reasonable figures.
We cook them in a great variety of ways : by baking
boiling, steaming, stewing and frying.

For apple pies we select tart, mellow apples. Pare
and slice enough to fill a rich crust. Then to a gener-
ous half cup of granulated sugar add a tablespoonful
of flour and stir thoroughly together, and spread over
the sliced apples. Over this dot small lumps of butter
before covering with crust. We prefer them without
flavoring or spice, which destroys the fine apple flavor.

We boil the apples for tea, taking large, perfect ones.
First, make a syrup of sugar and water in a basin.
Drop the apples, without peeling, into the boiling
syrup, and cover with a plate or other tight cover, and
place on the back part of the stove where they will
cook slowly. When done through, but not broken, re-
move and pour the hot syrup over them.

We take sweet and sometimes sour apples whole,
without paring, and make spiced sweet pickles of
them, as of peaches.

As a breakfast relish we have them fried. Take
perfect ones and remove the cores with an apple corer.
Slice about half an inch thick and fry in butter. After
browning on one side, turn, and when nearly done
sprinkle with sugar.

We make a salad from apples by paring them and
chopping, not too fine, mixing with them English wal-
nut meats, also chopped. Cover with Mayonnaise
dressing.

Very nice jelly can be made from apples : slice with-
out paring, but remove the cores. Proceed as for other
fruit jellies.

One year when canning peaches we had a quantity
of juice left over. So we made ready some apples and
put them into the juice, stewed them down thick and
canned as other fruit. We found it very fine -flavored.

In the Spring we endeavor to save what apples we
mav have on hand, by fixing and canning them in self-
sealing cans, for sauce or pies for Summer use.

When fixing a quantity of apples we always save
the clean parings, and after stewing them well, sweeten
and strain the juice and add it to our vinegar. It helps
us to make good cider vinegar.

OLD PHOTOGRAPHS

By MRS. II. A. G.
Wooster, Ohio

There are very few homes which have not numer-
ous old photographs too precious to be thrown away,
yet of interest to few besides the immediate family.
These generally take up too much space to be kept
where they can be gotten at conveniently, and so are
carefully put in boxes in the store-room or attic, to be
kept from the dust. So when we would gladly spend
a few moments looking on the familiar faces and
scenes, alas! it is too much trouble to get them out.
Here is one solution of the problem: Put the photo-
graphs in clear, hot water, and in a short time the
pictures can be easily removed from the cards. When
dry, either trim down the picture (to economize space)
or cut away the background entirely. This last re-
quires care, but can be done without destroying the
outline. Mount these in a scrap-book, or better still,
a book made especially for kodak pictures. This book
(or these books if more than one is needed) can be
made very interesting by clever arrangement of the
pictures, grouping relatives, school friends, army com-
rades, babies, out-of-door scenes, etc., in different por-
tions of the book.

FOR SHOE COMFORT
By ROSINA A. KINSMAN
Quito, Ecuador, South America

To make new shoes comfortable, moisten the lining
of the shoes or the stocking worn with alcohol and
wear the shoes while drying. This makes the lining
of the shoe stretch to fit the foot and prevents the
pinching often caused by the lining alone. Using
alcohol there is no danger of taking cold.

KETTLE COVERS

By MRS. H. E. FIRTH

Spokane, Washington

Of all the cook dishes the kettle covers are the most
troublesome, when not in use. Try this ; Make a large
pocket of oil-cloth, binding strong with heavy braid ;
tack in a handy place near the cook-stove and you can
see just the cover you want without handling all the
others.

USE OF FLAVORING EXTRACTS

By ELIZABETH M. ROBINSON
Iowa City, Iowa

Flavoring extracts should not be added to sauce
until it is cold ; for if put in while hot much of the
flavor passes off with the steam.

TO PREVENT FLANNELS
S H R I N K-I N G

By S. B. C.
Wolftown, Virginia

Let your flannels soak in cold water forty-eight
hours. Set them on the stove in the same water and
let it come to a boil. Remove and let stand twelve
hours. After this treatment your flannel* will remain
just the size they were when you bought them.

TO KEEP GREEN VEGETABLES
FRESH

By S. E. B.
Denver, Colorado

To keep lettuce, celery cucumbers, etc., fresh sev-
eral days, without ice, fold them loosely in a damp
cloth. In this way they will keep even crisper than,
when pu.t on \Q$,

By Frank Putnam
FOR THE RAILWAY KINGS, OR FOR THE PEOPLE?

/CONGRESS, assembling early this month, must grant or deny the nation's demand for
a square deal in railway freight rates. The people have become convinced that
private control of rates on the public highways — the railways — is the main factor in
building up the great trusts that strangle competition and rob consumers. This con-
viction is the power behind the urgent popular demand that railway rates should be regu-
lated by the federal government. Ray Stannard Baker in McClure's Magazine for Novem-
ber shows us exactly how a dozen private citizens, responsible only to railway managers,
intent on charging the public not a fair rate but all that it possibly can pay, make rates in
secret and in violation of law. President Roosevelt will ask congress this Winter to enact a

law under which the people who support the railways can, through federal officials, get prompt
and sure protection against extortionate and inequitable charges upon these highways of
the nation's commerce. When house and senate vote on this proposition we shall know
exactly which members serve the people, and who are the others that give their
first allegiance to the railway kings. They must toe the mark or quit the track.

THE LAST WHITE AUTOCRACY PASSES

PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT'S, place
in history looms larger with every
passing month. And while his mighti-
est tasks at home are still before him,
he has achieved first rank among living
statesmen by the part that he has taken
in world affairs. As the author of the
Portsmouth peace conference, he made
opportunity for Serge Witte, and in so
doing did more than any other one man
to tear down the last of the great auto-
cracies in the Caucasian world. Russia,
seething with revolt against czardom,

needed only a leader great enough to
command international respect for his
program of reforms. Such a leader is
Witte, and Witte, be it remembered,
owes his chance to Theodore Roosevelt.
Father Gapon, who led the first party of
petitioners to the foot of the throne that
they might baptize liberty's cause with
the blood of martyrs; — these and the
nameless heroes of the Black Sea
mutiny, and Lyof Tolstoy, mightiest
and most fearless spirit of them all —
these men are the fathers of the new

334

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

Russia — the free Russia. First among
their cooperators in the outer world
must rank Mutsuhito of Japan, whose
armies and navies pricked the bubble
of autocratic greatness, showing the
Russian people how mean and brain-
less was the power that oppressed them;
and Roosevelt of America, who made
peace and gave to distracted Russia a
leader of genuine power.

In the following manifesto, dated at
St. Petersburg October 30, 1905 — and
it is history of tremendous significance,
perhaps the most important state paper
issued in any land in a hundred years
— is told the whole brief story of the
passing of the czars as rulers by divine
right, and the rise of one hundred and
fifty millions of semi-serfs to the full
stature of free members of a constitu-
tional government:

"We, Nicholas the Second, by the
Grace of God Emperor and Auto-
crat of all the Russias, Grand Dujce
of Finland, etc., declare to all our
faithful subjects that the troubles
and agitation in our capitals and
in numerous other places fill our
heart with excessive pain and sor-
row.

"The happiness of the Russian
sovereign is indissolubly bound up
with the happiness of our people,
and the sorrow of our people is the
sorrow of the sovereign.

"From the present disorders may
arise great national disruptions.
They menace the integrity and
unity of our empire.

"The supreme duty imposed upon
us by our sovereign office requires
us to efface ourself and to use all
the forces and reason at our com-
mand to hasten in securing the unity
and coordination of the power of

the central government and to assure
the success of measures for pacifi-
cation in all circles of public life,
which are essential to the well-being
of our people.

"We, therefore, direct our govern-
ment to carry out our inflexible will
in the following manner:

"First — To extend to the popula-
tion the immutable foundations of
civic liberty, based on the real in-
violability of person, freedom of
conscience, speech, union and asso-
ciation.

"Second — Without suspending
the already ordered elections to
the state Douma, to invite to par-
ticipation in the Douma, so far as
the limited time before the convo-
cation of the Douma will permit,
those classes of the population
now completely deprived of elec-
toral rights, leaving the develop-
ment of the principle of the elec-
toral right in general to the newly
established legislative order of
things.

"Third — To establish as an un-
changeable rule that no law shall
be enforceable without the approval
of the state Douma and that it shall
be possible for the elected of the
people to exercise real participation
in the supervision of the legality of
the acts of the authorities appointed
by us.

"We appeal to all the faithful
sons of Russia to remember their
duty toward the fatherland, to aid
in terminating these unprecedented
troubles and to apply all their
forces, in cooperation with us. to

NOTE AND COMMENT 335

the restoration of calm and peace gress, they will never regain their lost
upon our natal soil. power, their wasted opportunities. More

"Given at Peterhof, October 30, and ™re the great plain people will

assert their divine rights, as they are
in the nth year of our reign. doing wkh increased ardor in every

"Nicholas." country under the sun, until Russia shall
take rank with the most enlightened

However the forces of reaction may nations, peaceful and prosperous as she
temporarily block the wheels of pro- is powerful.

THE SOVEREIGN STATE AND THE GOOD CITIZEN

THE individual citizen has more authority in the Nation today than he had in the State
' before railroads and telegraphs came in. He counts for more, has larger powers and
can make them felt more quickly. These facts are a sufficient reply to Senator Morgan's
speech warning the people against a federal railway rate law, on the ground that it would
violate state sovereignty. States have no sanctity— as states, but only as they are successful
in shielding the rights of their individual citizens. The individual has thrown aside the
state shield in these later years, because he doesn't need it: he can protect his rights
better by using the national government as his shield. Private exploiters of public
property may wriggle and squirm and bellow as much as they please, but they cannot turn
back the tide of social tendency.

The people have adopted a new ideal: by Its test the good citizen is the one who
is content to own PRIVATE property, and the bad citizen is that one who wishes
also to own PUBLIC property. The railway rate law agitation is a mere foreshadowing.

THE NEAR FUTURE OF THE FAR EAST

IS the Peace of Portsmouth only a signal for a ten-years' resting spell, preparatory
to a new and vaster struggle for supremacy in Asia? Did Britain and Japan
recognize this fact, in making their new treaty to last ten years from 1905?

Will China, when the ten years end, be strong enough in arms to take Britain's
place at Japan's side and with her help abolish western sovereignty over eastern soil?

Have Japan and China a secret understanding looking to this end? And have
Britain, Russia, Germany and France another secret understanding, pledging
mutual support of their Asiatic claims, and to become operative ten years hence, or
earlier, should occasion arise?

Whatever might be the true answers to these inquiries, could we but obtain
them, the dust of the council chamber and the hubbub of excited "men in the
street" have so far subsided that we can begin to get a fair idea of what really has
taken place during the past year in the East, and what it all means for the near
future at least.

Here we have the testimony of two of the most brilliant Asiatics that have ever
visited America — men who know the West as well, or nearly as well, as they know
the East. Yone Noguchi, the Japanese poet, honored in three continents for his
work of the half dozen years last past, and now lecturing on American litera-

336

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

ture in a Japanese university, speaks for his people in a carefully prepared
survey and forecast forwarded to the National Magazine from Tokyo under
date of September 23, 1905. Baba Bharati, a keen and widely known scholar
of India, interviewed in Los Angeles, California, by the Times, utters an
extraordinary prophecy for the near future of his people, and for all Asiatics.

JAPAN FEELS SURE OF TEN YEARS' RESPITE

By Yone Noguchi

to be assured. Suppose Russia threatens
India. Then our navy and army will
attack Vladivostock and other eastern
points, and Russia will be obliged to
divide her strength. I am sure she will
never commit any foolhardy act, having
the new Anglo-Japanese treaty in sight.
The danger in India is not clearly seen
except on paper. Therefore I say that
the eternal peace west of Suez is built
securely.

True, it was the dream and wish, not
only of our statesmen but of the nation
herself, to combine ourselves with Russia
some five or six years ago, when we had
almost recovered from the very wound
inflicted upon us by Russia in taking
from us the Liaotung peninsula, and
when we found that she was a dominant
power to be reckoned with. We wanted
to make an ally of Russia because it was
proper to think of our own country's
safety first, and we knew that Russia
would never voluntarily move away from
Manchuria. We thought that we —
Russia and Japan — would get along
nicely, Russia in Manchuria and Japan
in Korea. We made up our minds to
separate our domains of influence for
our own interest. And then we proposed
a certain offer through Marquis Yama-
gata, though it was not official, when we
sent him to the czar's coronation cele-
bration. What did Russia answer?
And a year or so afterward, when Mar-
quis Ito appeared in the Russian capi-
tal, he attempted to make Russia agree
to a similar proposal. Alas, she was

diplomacy — no, the English
diplomacy very likely, — presented
itself appropriately with the new Anglo-
Japanese treaty, whose influences are
mightily expanded. The chief points
are as follows:

i. — The maintenance of the status
quo in Asia.

i. — Japan to assist in the defence of
India should that country be threatened.

3. — Mutual assistance to be rendered
by each of the contracting powers to the
other should either be attacked by even
a single power.

Hereafter Japan is not alone in the
far East. The independence of our
country and the peace of the far East
are well-nigh assured. Remember we
are not alone in the Manchurian field,
since we have England with us; and
also America, spiritually. Our combined
naval tonnage — England's and Japan's
— is 1,900,000 tons. France, the second
naval power of the world, has 600,000
tons, and Germany 400,000 tons, and
Italy 300,000 tons. Suppose these
powers threaten our interest in the far
East? We have 600,000 tons more than
they could afford. There is small fear
of another war so long as our arms are
joined with England's. At present, and
also in the future, we need England for
our ally. England is just the country
for it.

And we must not forget to assist Eng-
land in India. Yes, we will. Nothing
will be lost for Japan thereby, since our
independence and the eastern peace are

NOTE AND COMMENT

337

extremely selfish and wholly absorbed
in egotism and self indulgence. She
wanted even Korea. She obstinately
insisted on a naval station in southern
Korea. Japan gave her up. And mean-
while we came to an agreement with
England. How sudden it was, and what
a diplomatic triumph for Japan! And
we proclaimed that we would act against
Russia. Our plan to pacify and moder-
ate Russian greed tottered to pieces and
we thought she was utterly irreconcilable.
We determined to do everything to pro-
tect our own interest. We welcomed
England with open arms. Undoubtedly
Russia must think now that if she had
accepted our good, sound offer, though
it were not too generous, she would not
have been obliged to see the fate she
has today. The Russian failure was due
to nothing but a lack of honesty and fair
dealing. She did not want to do any
legitimate business. Mystification and
trickery she delighted in, and she man-
aged the affair cleverly and even success-
fully up to a certain pointi Today she
is receiving every punishment she de-
serves. She has lost almost everything
in the far East, materially. And what
she has lost spiritually in the face of the
world she will never regain. It is hard
to gain a good reputation, but how easy
to break one! She was a hypocrite and
an untiring aggressor. And she said
she was a Christian country, and sent
her own preachers to Japan to convert
our people! Are we heathen? Today
the extraordinary dome which stands on
the Surugadai height of Tokyo, calling
itself a Russian church, appears to us
nothing but a barbarous office and a
savage demonstration. Doubtless the
Russian government used her own
religion and Bishop Nikolai merely as
tools of her invasion. Japan was not so
imbecile and savage as China or Korea,
fortunately. Today we see the Nikolai
cathedral shaking pitifully, with the
grasses overgrowing it.
The well balanced, practical Britons

meant business and nothing else. And
they had enough sympathy and earnest-
ness to do everything in their power
within the boundaries of business. We
are glad of that. In fact, what a tremen-
dous help it was in this gigantic war!
Surely we had not been bold enough
to launch on it were not England our
ally.

We must share the half of our glory
as a victorious nation. And the great
moral support of mighty America made
our position strong and secure. Japan,
backed by England and America, was
bound to win.

Our situation compelled us to fight
with Russia, our own country being
threatened by Russia, and we had not
a moment to hesitate or think over
whether it were to the interest of Eng-
land and America or not. No other
road was open to us but to declare war
on Russia. Fortunately England and
America had an equally good interest
with us in the matter, and they showed
their enthusiasm and sympathy in the
Manchurian war. Certainly they will
share equally with us in the fruits of
victory. And it is natural for them to
walk together on the same road with
Japan. It is not extraordinary to have
the new Anglo -Japanese agreement
greatly improved today. England means
business (America also) and we Japa-
nese mean it, too. We will invest
equally and gain profits equally. Eng-
land will help us in the far East, while
we promise our help in India.

It might be more comfortable for us to
be wholly independent, but our present
condition, our limited natural resources,
and our immediate poverty do not per-
mit it. If we were like America, having
a mighty continent with tremendous
resources and great population, no need
to bring another country in. If we were
like England, having no interest in
neighboring countries and with inex-
haustible wealth and a supreme navy to
protect our own interest, there would be

338

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

no reason to ally ourselves with another
nation.

But today Japan has almost spent her
wealth in waging the Russia-Japan war,
and we were barely so far successful as
to drive Russia away from Korea and
Manchuria. If we do not keep a very
sharp watch and establish ourselves
firmly in those countries (and that
means money and money), Russia will
soon find her own way to be aggressive
and to invade again. And a thousand
other things we have crowded on our
back. We must enlarge our navy, and
we must invest money in Korea and
Port Arthur. We must adjust the
Saghalien affair. God knows what else.
We expanded our business to make it
more profitable, and, alas, we have little
money to put in. We must have vast
sums to make a sound business founda-
tion, and to begin with we must have

peace of mind. Peace of mind, yes,
that is the thing. We are surely to have
it, since we made the new Anglo-Japa-
nese agreement. And slowly we will
build up our business. We are still in
the stage of boyhood, barely out of baby-
hood. We must have some sort of pro-
tector and there is nobody better than
England. England will help us materi-
ally, America will feed us spiritually.

We need at least ten years to adjust
our financial affairs, and to make us
a really great eastern power. Could the
Anglo -Japanese alliance afford us ten
years?

If so?

We will be grateful to England, and
will never hesitate to make any amount
of sacrifice for her when need arises.

We depend on the new agreement to
realize our own dream and work out our
own destiny in the far East.

ALL ASIA TO FIGHT ALL EUROPE IN 1915

By Baba Bharati

[An Interview in the Los

THE peace of Portsmouth will affect
India in one way, and yet it will not
affect her at all in another way. India,
of course, along with the rest of Asia,
was expecting to have Russia driven out
of the far East entirely, which would
have made the Japanese position much
more powerful than it is now, under the
conditions of the treaty signed at Ports-
mouth. With Russia driven out of the
far East, Japan could have escaped the
necessity of entering into a fresh treaty
with England.

England had proved to her, Japan, an
untrustworthy ally, an ally whose insin-
cerity was apparent to Japan on many
occasions during the progress of the
war. The reason was not far to seek;
England's insincere friendship to Japan
was due to her sincere fear of the over-

Angeles, California, Times]

shadowing ascendency into which Japan
was mounting after each victory. The
British lion in India trembled to its
claws after the astonishingly brilliant
feats of the Japanese army. He did not
know where he was. Complete fulfill-
ment of Japanese aspirations in the field
of Manchuria would have left the British
in a hopeless state of anxiety as to the
future of their empire in India; but now
they are breathing more freely.

Who can say how much covert influ-
ence the British had, along with some
other Powers, in bringing about the
Portsmouth deal, shorn of a single kopec
of indemnity and full of so many unex-
pected concessions to Russia?

The Indian people understand all this
and are sorry for it all; not so much for
the gain Russia has derived from the

NOTE AND COMMENT

339

treaty as for the gain England has de-
rived from it in the shape of her fresh
offensive and defensive alliance with
Japan. England was playing her cards
to this end, and she has succeeded in
obtaining it. She wanted Japan to
weaken Russia only, and not to become
the paramount power in the far East
by driving Russia out entirely, 'fhe
weakening of Russian power, and peace,
along with the resultant offensive and
defensive treaty, was all she was schem-
ing for, and she has got it.

Disarmed for the last half century
by their British rulers, with machine
guns gaping at them from all directions,
the Indian people were becoming more
and more demoralized. They were on
the verge of abandoning all hope that
the night of British rule in India
would pass away; but now the boom of
Togo's and Oyama's all-powerful guns
has filled them with the hope that the
dawn is near enough. The Japanese
victories have aroused the almost dead
hearts of the Indian people to fresh life,
life full of sanguine hope. This is the
most distinct gain they see, and the
Portsmouth treaty cannot affect this net
result, full of potentialities and possi-
bilities of their near political freedom.

Will the Japanese-English treaty settle
permanently the question concerning the
English government of India?

No. The greatest lesson that India
has drawn from this war is that it is not
merely guns that win victories, but
superior intelligence, concentration and
whole-souled love and devotion to king,
country and ideals of life. These were
the greatest factors in the crushing
defeat given to the mightiest of white
hordes with whose help the tyrants
of Europe are now oppressing the
mild Asians. It is the superior in-
telligence of Togo, Oyama, Yamagata,
Oku, Nodzu, Nogi and Kuroki and the
ideal morale and contempt for death of
the soldiers which have demonstrated
the wonderful fact that spirit-illumined

brain and body are any day more than
a match for the bravery born of a beef-
fed brain, a matter-fed mind and a rum-
fed spirit. And the Hindus are more
than sure that their people have a greater
share of these winning, spiritual and
moral qualities than the rest of the
Asiatics including the Japanese, whose
consciousness is but a part of the whole
Hindu consciousness.

In your judgment is this a permanent
peace? If not, what do you anticipate con-
cerning the developments of the future?

By no means is this a permanent
peace; for it is a patched-up peace,
founded upon insincere feelings on both
sides. When Russia, Germany and
France deprived Japan of the fruits of
her victory over China, Tapan submitted
to the injustice, and bided her time for
avenging this high-handed wrong and
injustice. She wanted time to prepare
for a greater struggle, to give the arch-
interloper a sound licking; and for chas-
ing him out of Manchuria, ten years'
time was enough to carry her purpose
into execution. The mikado and his
ministers are long-headed people, longer-
headed diplomats and politicians than
you can find in the whole West. An-
other ten years' time is needed for
China's awakening, which has already
begun under the influence of the Japan-
ese, an awakening which no European
power can now prevent, or all European
powers put together have any right to
prevent. Japan has earned this right of
opportunity to awaken China.

The new Anglo-Japanese treaty is only
good for ten years of bland friendship
between the Jap and the Briton. In
another ten years Japan, in company
with awakened China, will be ready for
action against all the white intruders in
the East.

In 1915, the centenary of the battle of
Waterloo, the whole of Asia and Europe
will be plunged into a war before whose
feats the feats of the war just closed will
shrivel into insignificance.

340

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

HOUGHTON AND HANCOCK, WITH BRIDGE ACROSS PORTAGE LAKE
Photo by Tyler, Calumet

THE LAKE SUPERIOR COPPER COUNTRY

By Arthur L. Carnahan

nERMANENCY, generation following
generation for nearly three-quarters
of a century — this is not the wonted type
of the American mining camp. Thrifti-
ness, families who through a lifetime of
incessant labor by father and sons, care-
ful spending and wise dealings, have
accumulated fortunes that render them
independent, yet who continue to work,
in the very enjoyment of it — this is
different, indeed, from the traditional
happy-go-lucky miner. Conservative
commercialism, as wise in its adminis-
tration as the most astute financier's or
merchant's — a contrast, surely, with the
prodigality that so often in fiction, and
occasionally in fact, stamps its impress
upon mining enterprises. Mines which
are justly ranked among the world's
greatest, most profitable, most wisely
managed and most assured in their
future, yet bringing forth from their

depths the lowest grade of ore that is
produced at a profit anywhere on the
globe— how different from the Golcondas
of the west, yielding in their shafts
their thousand dollars per foot of depth
or in their slopes their ten thousand
dollars per fathom I

These are features of the Lake Su-
perior copper country. They are not
un - American. They are the most
American representation that mining
has in America. They reflect the type
of American that was presaged in the
Pilgrim prototype and in the pioneers
who quelled the forest and tamed the
plains. They reflect a character different
it is true, from that which the typical
mining community possesses, but they
reflect a higher exemplification of tlie
country's traditions.

This, then is a mining district peculiar
unto itself, builded upon a foundation

THE LAKE SUPERIOR COPPER COUNTRY

that will last .for incalculable hundreds
of years, with a social and industrial
fiber as permanent as the resources which
nature has provided.

The distinctions which differentiate
the Lake Superior copper country from
other mining districts extend to almost
every feature. Here nature has garbed
the rock-ribbed and copper-veined hills
and gentle slopes with a mantle of fruit-
ful soil, bristling with forests where the
axman has not wrought and bountiful in
crops where cultivation prevails. Its
position on the Great Lakes places it on
navigable water to which there is direct
access from the eight states and the
Canadian territory contiguous to these
bodies.

Its mines are great manufacturing in-
dustries, with vast acreages from which
virtually unlimited supply may be drawn.
Its leading interests and dominating
forces are its own sons, whose fathers and
grandfathers laid the foundation stones
for its present greatness.

Nature, in bestowing the world's min-
eral wealth, frequently hides it in hills
barren of vegetation and uninviting in
aspect. Hardships from excessive heat
or excessive cold, from lack of water and
from isolation, must often be met in
winning this wealth to the uses of man.
From such obstacles the Lake Superior
copper country is happily free. The
winters are long, but they are invigorat-
ing, they do not impede the mining in-
dustry and only on a few occasions
throughout the year is the weather so
severe that outdoor activity is uncom-
fortable. The springs, summers and
autumns are a round of delightful seasons,
changing with kaleidoscopic swiftness
and each bringing its distinctive fascina-
tions in sweet smelling and verdant
budding, dense foilage, gentle rippling
brooks, placid inland seas teeming with
vessels carrying a nation's wealth, and
the brillant gold and red and brown of
the forests as the year declines.
The commercial development of the

Lake Superior copper country began in
1843, when the government opened a
federal land office at Copper Harbor.
This step was taken largely through the
instrumentality of Dr. Douglass Hough-
ton, who first visited the district in 1830
and through the subsequent years, dur-
ing which he was state geologist of
Michigan, labored incessantly to bring
the industrial possibilities of the copper
deposits to the attention of the world.

Within two or three years there was a
large influx of skilled miners from the
tin and copper mines of Cornwall,
England, and to this day the Cornish
miner in the Lake Superior country has
stood pre-eminent in the position which
he established for himself at that time.
They were of the same stock as the
pioneers of Plymouth and Jamestown
days. The hardships of forest and cold,
privation and unrequited labor had no
terrors for them.

A few pioneers of the earliest days are
still living, and the sons of that day have
resting upon their shoulders both here
and in other mining camps throughout
the world, the responsibility for many of
the world's greatest mining industries.
Cornwall from time immemorial has
sent out the miners whose skill has
broken into nature's treasure houses,
and since the decline of Cornwall's im-
portance as a mining district, Cornish
descendents in the Lake Superior branch
of the old mining clan have maintained
the precedent of their ancestors.

Philadelphia and Pittsburg capital was
among the first to seek an outlet in the
development of the Lake Superior cop-
per country, but at a very early date
Boston became interested, and today,
out of the eighteen mining companies
which are producing copper on the Ke-
weenaw peninsula of Lake Superior,
twelve have their home offices in Boston,
the remaining six having New York as
their headquarters, but maintaining
branch offices in Boston.
The Michigan mining laws were

THE LAKE SUPERIOR COPPER COUNTRY

framed at an early day along the lines
that have proven eminently satisfactory
and legal disputes are practically un-
known. The much abused "apex and
extralateral" laws of the federal govern-
ment, by which the owner of an outcrop
of ore may extract its values, witherso-
ever they may extend under the surface
holdings of neighboring owners, were
modified by the Michigan state law so

A recent amendment, however, permits
a capitalization of 400,000 shares. But
all the development has been under the
old law, and to the credit of the compan-
ies it may be said that the majority of
them called only a fraction of the limjt
of assessment, while many of them were
organized with much less than the limit
of share capitalization.

Roughly speaking, the cost of opening

SHAFT HOUSES AND MINERS, TRIMOUNTAIN MINE, TRIMOUNTAIN
Photo by Tyler, Calumet

that the owner's rights reach only to the
planes extending downward vertically
from the surface boundary lines. The
capitalization of the companies was reg-
ulated by law, the limit of shares being
placed at 100,000 and the par value
being fixed at $25 per share. Thus a
company cannot collect upon its capital
stock in excess of $25 per share for its
development. If a greater sum than this
is required it is necessary to reorganize.

a mine upon the average value of ore
produced in the Lake Superior copper
country, permitting the ore yielded in
development to go in payment of part of
the expense, is $1,500,000 for the stock-
holders or $15 per share on a capitaliza-
tion of 100,000 shares. This is for a
mine with 4 shafts to an average depth
of i ,000 feet and a stamp mill capable of
reating 2,000 tons daily.
The time required according to mod-

ern methods is approximately six years.
If the development has been aggressive
and the ore values have maintained
satisfactorily, the end of this period
should see a balance accumulated and
the dividend period at hand. The policy
of development varies, the manage-
ments in the more poorly defined and
less certain sections instituting a less
aggressive policy, taking a longer time
for development and seeking to cover
the expenses more completely by the
returns from the copper produced, be-
cause the outcome is less assured and it
is desirable to invest as little original
capital as possible. In sections where
neighboring development or natural con-
ditions are such as to lessen the hazard
of success or failure, original capital is
spent more freely and the work is driven
ahead without any particular effort to
discount expenses by the sale of copper.
Such a policy, where the ore values
meet expectations, brings quicker re-
turns upon the investment.

Illegitimate undertakings or "wild-
catting" is practically unknown. So
complete is the geological analysis of
the peninsula, so high is the ethical
plane upon which the business is con-
ducted, and so thorough is the under-
standing between -the Lake mining en-
gineer and the Boston financier, that
there is neither temptation nor oppor-
tunity to admit this baneful condition.

The basis upon which the share capi-
tali/ation of a new company is sold to
the public may be depended upon to be
invariably legitimate. The money se-
cured from this sale of stock will be put
to the best uses which sagacious judge-
ment can dictate. The effort to dis-
close copper will be earnest and sin-
cere. If the copper is not to be found
the money expended in the search is
lost to the investor, but if values lie in
the path of investigation they will be
brought to light and developed with the
highest degree of skill and the most
conservative economy which generations

of training can inculcate.

After the stock leaves the treasury and
passes into the hands of the public, the
price to which it may rise or fall in deal-
ings between individuals is beyond
the company's control. Naturally it is
affected in its fluctuations by the physical
conditions of the property, but its exact
worth is a subject which must be settled
between buyer and seller and the buyer
must assume all risk on his investment.
Of one thing he can be constantly as-
sured, however; the investment which
he has made, if it is in an operating com-
pany in the Lake Superior copper coun-
try, has brought him into co-operation
with a group of men whose skill is of
the highest order, whose integrity is
unimpeachable and whose sincerity in
the development which they have under-
taken is re-enforced by the most sacred
professional pride.

Labor troubles of a serious, vicious or
prolonged character have never visited
the district, and the conditions are of
a nature to render them improbable.
The fundamental condition which argues
against disturbances of this nature is a
co-operative sentiment. While the min-
ing companies are not co-operative in the
generally accepted sense of that term,
they are all organized in such manner
that their stock is purchaseable on the
open market.

Here also, then, comes in the element
of thrift. The sagacity of the copper
country miner has led him to know that
this stock is a safe and profitable invest-
ment, and countless fortunes belonging
to men now working in the mines are
thus invested, many of them having ac-
cumulated profits for wellnigh half a
century. A large percentage of the
copper country's savings are thus in-
vested, and so will remain interminably.
The owners of these savings are working
underground, with their sons, and their
sons' sons will come after them. For
a mine to be disturbed by an upheaval
over labor issues would work serious

THE LAKE SUPERIOR COPPER COUNTRY

depreciation in the earning power and
market value of the stock, and thus the
miner would see his fortune shrink and
possibly vanish by his own act if he
were instrumental in causing or continu-
ing the trouble. This, therefore, stands
as a partial guarantee against such dis-
turbances. Secondarily, the companies
maintain a paternal interest in the wel-
fare of their employes. Practically all
of the taxes are paid by the mining com-
panies, and hence the administration of
public affairs is largely in the com-
panies' hands. This administration is
governed by the highest wisdom and in-
tegrity. There is no room for political
corruption, since each mining company's
property comprises a separate township
organization, and there is no one to
"graft" upon, except the company it-
self. The company, through the pub-
lic officials, who are its own employes,
assesses itself liberally for school pur-
poses, and when school houses are to be
built the company's carpenters, who may
be the only carpenters in the township
to do the job, are put upon the construc-
tion. There is never a cry of inadequate
school room, and the best trained
teachers available are employed.

A third important factor that is con-
ducive to contentment is the comfortable
housing of the miners. In the immedi-
ate vicinity of a mine the lands are of
course owned by the mining company
and the town is laid out with the high-
est regard for sanitary conditions, com-
fort and convenience. The houses are
strongly and warmly built, plastered and
finished with as much care as an owner
would do the work for his own occu-
pancy. The rental is on the approxi-
mate basis of one dollar per room per
month, thus making the cost of a house
for an ordinary family six to eight dol-
lars per month.

There is no unemployed labor in the
Lake Superior copper country, and here
again is a secret of contentment. Labor,
in fact, is at a premium, and thereby is
imposed upon it a dignity which demands
respect both from the worker and the
employer. Concomitant with this ab-
sence of idleness is also the absence of
poverty, and the pinch of hunger is never
felt in this land of contentment.

As the Lake Superior copper country
has provided much of the ablest mining
skill for the development of other dis-
tricts, so it has provided capital for the
same purpose. Thus in many instances

the men and the money of this section
have united their forces in these cam-
paigns. An early and memorable in-
stance of this was in the Old Abe and
the Uncle Sam Mining Companies, both
of which were organized and financed in
this district to operate in the Black Hills
of Dakota. The lands comprised in this
venture now constitute the most re-
sourceful portion of the Homestake
mine. The Lake Superior interests
were eventually forced to surrender their
undertaking and sell out to the Home-
stake because the latter so encompassed
the Old Abe and Uncle Sam with its
land purchases that they were powerless
to secure water supply, transportation or
other necessary accommodations without
a struggle that appeared too desperate to
be undertaken.

One of the latest and most successful
of these outside ventures by Lake Su-
perior capital is the well known Calumet
& Arizona. As a result of this recent
achievement many families have been
enabled to retire permanently and live
at their ease, while hundreds of inves-
tors have reaped comfortable fortunes.
This mine is at Bisbee, Arizona, and the
first stroke in its development was less
than five years ago. Previous to that
time the only producing mine in that
camp was the Copper Queen, owned by
Phelps, Dodge & Co. of New York, and
which had been operating profitably but
on a limited scale for about twenty years.
Some Lake Superior mining men who
could "see further into the ground than
the point of the pick" were in the camp
and became interested in the geology
and ore formation. A study of condi-
tions convinced them that beneath a
tract of neighboring ground, which could
be purchased, ore should be encountered
at a depth of about 1,000 feet. Lake
Superior capital was interested and an
equity equivalent to one share of stock
in the present organization cost the
original investor two dollars. The judge-
ment of the mining men proved sound,
and at a depth of i ,000 feet the ore was
found, and the company is now making
over 100,000 pounds of copper daily,
while the equity that cost two dollars
is now worth on the market from $110 to

$120.

In the promotion of local mining com-
panies, for the development of Lake Su-
perior properties, the sale of treasury
stock is divided about equally between
the Lake Superior capitalists and the

THE LAKE SUPERIOR COPPER COUNTRY

MINE FIRE, OSCEOLA MINE, CALUMET
Photo by Isler, Calumet

Boston capitalists. The usual plan is to
issue one-half of the capitalization to the
owners of the land in exchange for the
deeds. The remaining one-half of the
capitalization is sold to the public to
meet the expense of development, from
six to ten dollars per share being re-
quired in cash, and assessments in one
to two dollar installments being called
until profits reheve this necessity.

The banking interests of the district
represent a power in the financial world.
Houghton county, in which are located
the principal mines of the district, and
which comprises almost the entire bank-
ing business of Keweenaw peninsula, has
nine banks. A consolidated statement
of these institutions shows the resources
in round numbers to consist of $6,175,-
ooo in loans and discounts, $1,500,000 in
bonds, mortgages and securities, $3,850,-
ooo due from banks and the United
States treasury, and $1,160,000 in cash,
a total, with real and personal property
of $12,825,000; these resources are bal-
anced by liabilities in round numbers of
$905/000 capital stock, $765,000 surplus
and undivided profits, $145,000 circula-
tion and $11,000,000 deposits.

There are 15,000 men directly engaged
in the mining operations of Houghton
county, and this represents approxi-
mately eighty per cent, of the working
population of the county, placing the
working population near_ 20,000 while
the census population is in round num-
bers 85,000.

A tew of the claims to greatness which
are put forth by the Lake Superior cop-
per country may be forcefully presented
in figures and measurements. The out-
put of its mines is now over 200,000,000

pounds of copper annually, and to secure
this copper there is mined, crushed and
concentrated 20,000,000,000 pounds of
ore or "rock," the refined metal repre-
senting about one per cent, of the origi-
nal mass of rock extracted. Its mines
are distributing annually $12,000,000 in
wages and $5,700,000 in dividends. It
has vertical shafts approximately one
mile in depth and inclined shafts in
excess of a mile in depth, the deepest
reaching to 8,100 feet. Its hoisting
engines lift from six to ten tons from
a depth of a mile in three minutes. Each
of its seventy-five or more stamp heads
is capable of crushing into sand 500 tons
of rock in twenty-four hours, while for
each stamp head there is pumped about
4,000,000 gallons of water in twenty-four
hours, to be used in the hydraulic sepa-
ration of copper from the rock, which is
accomplished by the difference in spe-
cific gravity. It manufactures- a large
amount of its own dynamite and other
mine explosives, operates its own iron
and brass foundries, with the most ex-
tensive machine shops northwest of
Milwaukee, and wholesales its own
goods through extensive local jobbing
and wholesale houses. It has extensive
railroad interests, capacious hotels and
splendidly stocked stores.

Yet with all this industry and commer-
cialism, there is a spirit of romance per-
meating the atmosphere of the district.
Its early history has woven into it hero-
ism and fortitude, while its later develop-
ment is weighted with daring tasks such
as stir the souls of men in admiration.
Mine fires have not been unknown, and
when human lives are thus endangered
there are always human lives willing to

STARTING A SHAFT, CALUMET AND.

MINE, CALUMET
Photo by leler. Calumet

THE LAKE SUPERIOR COPPER COUNTR\

SCHOOL HOUSE IN WHICH THE KNIGHTS OF

PYTHIAS MANUAL WAS WRITTEN, EAGLE

HARBOR, MICHIGAN

Photo by Isler, Calumet

be sacrificed in the work of rescue.
Engineering works involving the expen-
diture of fortunes are undertaken with
success assured only theoretically, yet
there is no hesitancy if a desired end is
held in promise. Inventive genius has
had wide scope for expansion, and the
ideas have been eagerly put into applica-
tion. Statesmen, orators, men who lead
in law and in letters, have been nurtured
here in their youth and early manhood.
In an humble school house, its windows
overlooking the great expanse of Lake
Superior and the sweet smelling pine
brushing against its eaves, was written
the ritual of the Knights of Pythias by
Justus Rathbone, then a teacher here.
Its natural beauty is bewitching and
there are many picturesque places that
appeal to the nature lover. A curious
structure is the Natural Wall near Lake
Linden, which juts out from the side of
a wood-man teled gorge, towering seventy
feet high and built up of great sandstone
blocks, bearing striking similarity to the
work of man.

Both Hancock and Houghton are col-
lege towns, the former having a splendid
institution for the education of Finns,
of which there are a large number work-
ing in the mines and in other occupa-
tions throughout the district. The at-
tendance is sixty students annually, and
they are prepared for any university in
America or Europe. It is the only Finn-

ish college in America. In Houghton
is the Michigan College of Mines, a state
institution with an attendance of 200
annually. Here are taught the highest
branches of science applicable to mining
engineering, and its graduates hold a
leadership in the world's mining indus-
tries. Its departments include mining
engineering, civil engineering, mechani-
cal engineering, metallurgy, geology,
chemistry, hydraulic engineering, mathe-
matics and physics. The course re-
quires four years to complete.

Winter sports are an important feature
of copper country life. Houghton and
Calumet each has a skating rink almost
identical in size, the floor being Sox 1 08
feet.

These two towns have the champion
pion hockey teams of America and games
are played throughout the winter with
teams from all parts of the country. In
other seasons of the year the great build-
ings are used for various amusement
purposes. Hancock and Calumet each
has a handsome and commodious .thea-
ter, in which appear the highest class of
dramatic companies. In the summer
the peninsula enjoys a large patronage
from tourists, Houghton being the prin-
cipal place at which they are entertained,
the hotel accommodations there being of
a superior character, while all passenger
boats plying above Sault Ste. Marie
make of this place a landing port.

Thus there is to be found in the Lake
Superior copper country a land of plenty
with a brillant past and an undimmed
future, romance and commercialism,
achievement and opportunity, and a
people of overpowering energy, re-
sourceful genius and abundant wealth.

GROUP OF BUILDINGS AT MICHIGAN COLLEGE
OF MINES, HOUGHTON

MICHIGAN STATE CAPITOL BUILDING

LANSING, MICHIGAN

SIXTY -FOUR years ago John W.
Burchard erected the first house in
the city of Lansing. He built a log
house on the east side of the Grand
river and took up his residence there.
From such a humble beginning the city
has grown until today it is one of the
leading manufacturing centers of the
state. By act of the legislature in 1847
the state capital was located in Lansing.
The history of the city, from that time
until the present, is not one of growth
dependent entirely upon the establish-
ment of the state capital. The building
of the new state house, however added
much to its prosperity and assured per-
manency of the growth of the city.

Early in the history of the village fac-
tories were instituted, beginning with
saw mills and potteries. Foundries,

carding mills, and cooper shops fol-
lowed, and to this list was added, as the
years went on a varied line of industries,
until at present, the output of Lansing
factories is as diversified as that of any
city in the state. Its manufactured pro-
ducts are known the world over, and the
rapid strides made within recent years
have made the city the envy of her sis-
ters. No branch of trade has expanded
more in Lansing the past few years than
the jobbing and wholesale business, and
much of it results from the recognition
of Lansing as the distributing center of
the state. It offers superior attractions
for any concern that contemplates estab-
lishing itself in Michigan for such a
trade.

That Lansing has surpassed every
other city in that state in its industrial

LANSING, MICHIGAN

HIGH SCHOOL BUILDING

growth during the last few years is indi-
cated by the figures of the state census
bureau relative to its factory statistics
in 1900 and 1904. While the number of
factories has increased a third, the
amount of capital invested is 191 per
cent, greater, the number of men em-
ployed has more than doubled, as has
also the amount of wages paid. The
value of products is 134 per cent, greater,
being now over a million dollars greater
than four years ago. In other words,
in only five years Lansing has had
a growth of over thirty-three and one-
third per cent, in population; over fifty
per cent, in retail trade; over 100 per
cent, in manufactured products; over
500 per cent, in distributing trade.

Of prime importance to maufacturers
and wholesale dealers are the facilities
for shipping. Four great railroads tap
the commerce of Lansing, supplying the

WILLIAMS HALL, AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE

rn\v material to the factories and carrying
out their finished products to the markets
of the world. They bring legislators and
politicians to the capital, as well as thou-
sands of visitors and excursionists who
come to view the sights or buy what the
manufacturers, jobbers, wholesalers and
retailers have to offer.

The first railroad was built in 1863.
It now forms the Saginaw branch of the
Michigan Central. Since then there
have been added the Lake Shore &
Michigan Southern, the Pere Marquette,
and the Grand Trunk. All now have
handsome modern depots. In this con-
nection the street railway and interurban
systems should be mentioned. The
street railway in Lansing is the center
of a system that is reaching out in about
every direction. The Lansing & St.
Johns line comes in from the north.
Well filled cars traverse the Michigan
avenue line to the agricultural college
and proceed on beyond the college to
Pine Lake, where the company is inter
ested in a new resort. Out to the south
and west runs the Waverly park line,
furnishing access to a place of natural
beauty that has been fully equipped as
an attractive Summer resort. Interurban
railway pospects loom up as one of the
means of the capital city's prospective
advancement. The start has been made
in interurban construction, in which
Lansing is a terminal, and there seems
little doubt that in the future the city
will be the center of an important sys-
tem.

Aside from the city's importance as
the capital and a manufacturing center,
Lansing is also distinguished by reason
of the state institutions located here.
These include the Industrial School for
Boys, the School for the Blind and the
Agricultural College.

There are now over 100 manufacturing
establishments in the city. In addition
to this there are a score of wholesalers
and jobbers, and by reason of the in-
crease in the number and prosperity of

LANSING, MICHIGAN

these institutions the city's retail estab-
lishments, its banking facilities and its
institutions generally have expanded to
supply the needs of a population and
have kept pace in their growth with the
prosperity of the city.

As would be expected in an active
community of intelligent people, there
has come a demand for educational,
religious, social and fraternal organiza-
tions and institutions, which has been
met as years rolled by until Lansing in
this respect is second to no city in the
state. Its schools are well established in
modern buildings, and their affairs have
been for years administered by a non-
partisan board almost without exception
composed of Lansing's foremost business
and professional men. The location here
of the Agricultural College provides a
convenient source of higher education
for the children of its citizens.

Almost every creed or denomination
has its church building here, and in
most instances their homes are hand-
some, modern edifices which are not
only ornaments to the city but sources
of gratification to the members.

Beside the advantages above enumer-
ated, Lansing is preeminently desirable
as a place of residence. It is a health-
ful, beautiful city, well lighted and with
an abundant supply of pure water. Both
light and water are furnished by plants
owned by the city, and both of which are
extremely valuable assets, steadily in-
creasing in worth as the city expands.
The city is also supplied with gas and
electrical power by private companies at
equitable rates.

With these advantages, it is not sur-
prising that Lansing is a city of homes.
In every direction from its business cen-
ter extend broad, well kept streets on
which are erected hundreds of beautiful
homes surrounded by well kept lawns
adorned with shade trees, shrubbery and
flowers. That the city has had so great a
percentage of growth in industrial inter-
ests is due in a large measure to the efforts

STATE COLLEGE FOR THE BLIND

of the Lansing Business Men's Associa-
tion. The success which the associa-
tion has achieved is evidenced by the
fact that since its organization no less
than forty-five new manufacturing plants
have been located here. Much has also
been done toward obtaining satisfactory
freight service for local shippers.

Fifty years ago Lansing could be
reached only by stage coach. Now it is
a railroad and interurban railway center.

Of modern conveniences it has its full
quota. It is a city of handsome homes.
It leads alls in business prosperity, as
evidenced by the marvelous increase in
its population and output of its indus-
tries during the last five years. Lansing
offers all the attractions of a beautiful
residence city together with exceptional
advantages along industrial lines. In
short, Lansing offers as desirable a loca-
tion as can be found anywhere.

NEW CITY HALL

SCENE ON THE BEAUTIFUL ST. JOSEPH RIVER

ELKHART, INDIANA

THE city that forms the subject of this
sketch is situated in Elkhart county
100 miles east of Chicago and 137 miles
west of Toledo. It occupies an un-
rivalled position with reference to natural
position and development. The early
settler who chose this site at the con-
fluence of the St. Joseph and Elkhart
rivers builded better than he knew. The
development of this suberb water power
together with the coining of improved
railroad facilities has given the city a
rapid growth, especially within the past
quarter of a century. No more promis-
ing community exists in the state of
Indiana today than this enterprising
American city. It can truly be called a
city of homes, while at the same time it
offers no mean inducements for the
manufacturer.

First of all it must be observed that
Elkhart has been well favored in the
matter of transportation facilities. The
city is an important factor of the Lake
Shore system. At this point the large
shops of the system are located. The
Air Line and Old Road branch here on
their way to Toledo. Many railroad
men have made their homes in the city.
A handsome new passenger depot has

been erected that is an ornament and
credit to the city. By this trunk line
and its branches all sections of the
country are easily reached by the manu-
facturers. The Big Four road extending
from Benton Harbor to Indianapolis
makes connections with northern and
southern points. These two roads to-
gether with a belt line give the city all
that could be desired for freight and
passenger traffic on steam trains. In
interurban transportation the Indiana
Railway system has proved especially
advantageous. An hourly schedule is
maintained between South Bend, Elk-
hart and Goshen. Elkhart has two city
lines for traffic within the city limits.

The location of Elkhart at the forks of
the Elkhart and St. Joseph rivers has
greatly aided its industrial development.
Progressive citizens, realizing the possi-
bilities of the undeveloped water power,
decided to utilize it for the city's ad-
vancement, and a company was formed
for that purpose. A dam 300 feet long
with a twelve-foot head was constructed
across the river near the eastern limits
of the city and the head thus formed
was conducted on either side of the dam
through an extensive system of races

ELKHART, INDIANA

ONE OF ELKHART'S NEW OFFICE BUILDINGS

and utilized in turning the wheels of a
dozen factories. The development of
this water power has given an impetus to
the industrial development of Elkhart.
It has proved a strong foundation for the
upbuilding of the city and has added
materially to its present greatness. A
demand was at once created for the
cheap water power and factories began
to seek Elkhart. Two years were re-
quired in the construction of the dam
and the various races, and over $100,000
was expended in harnessing this water
power.

In its population Elkhart is peculiarly
American. The early settlers came from
Ohio and Pennsylvania and the city
possesses' an air of culture and refine-
ment peculiar to the eastern cities com-
bined with the western energy and
thrift. The city has a very small for-
eign population, and a trip to the vari-
ous manufacturing institutions will soon
convince one that the workers therein
fully realize the responsibilites of Ameri-
can citizenship.

Within a radius of fifteen miles of
Elkhart many beautiful lakes nestle
among the green hills and at these spots
a large number of Summer cottages have
been erected. There one can find the
finest of fishing, boating and bathing.
Bicycle paths run along all of the high-
ways. Boating on the St. Joe is a
favorite form of recreation and above

the dam all kinds of pleasure craft can
be seen afloat. Picturesque places can
be found in all directions from the city.
!c is conceded that no finer location for
a city could be found than the present
site of Elkhart, the City of the Forks.

The water supply of Elkhart is excep-
tionally pure. The city water is drawn
from springs and wells, and every pre-
caution has been taken to keep the
source of supply free from contamina-
tion. Part of the power of the St. Joe
has been used to turn dynamos develop-
ing light, heat and power. Gas is also
used for illuminating purposes and quite
extensively for heating and cooking.
Two telephone companies compete for
public favor. Extensive street paving
has been done. All the streets of the
city are stone curbed, while concrete
sidewalks are in universal use.

Three parks aid in beautifying the
city. The island from which the city
takes its name, being shaped like an
elk's heart, is the property of the city.
It contains about ten acres and is a
most delightful spot. The natural beauty

HOME OF THE CENTURY CLUB

ELKHART, INDIANA

of the island has been enhanced by the
introduction of flowerbeds. Studebaker
park lies at the southeastern confines of
the city and Highland park to the west-
ward. Both of these are beautiful places
and they minister to the pleasure and
comfort of the citizens.

The public schools of Elkhart are fully
up to standard, all the ordinary branches
being taught. The city also has a good
business college. Foremost among the
educating and refining influences of the
city is the Elkhart Lecture Association.
The city has long been famed for her
lecture course, and it is safe to say that
no other city of similar size has ever
presented such an array of talent as has
this association. It speaks well for the
character of the citizens that this is true.

The city also points with pride to the
organization known as the Century Club
and its magnificent building. This build-
ing was erected at a cost of over $20,000
and is furnished with a simple yet lux-
uriant effect that is surpassed nowhere.
The club itself was organized for busi-
ness and social purposes. It has always
been alive to the best interests of Elk-
hart, and has done its best to foster such

enterprises as are for the benefit of the
city.

Fine business blocks adorn the main
business streets, an opera house attracts
the amusement lover, modern hotel doors
stand invitingly open and the news-
papers mirror the life of a thrifty city.
A new library and a new postoffice have
been erected, handsome church edifices
have been built — in fact the City of the
Forks is one of the most delightful and
attractive residence cities to be found
throughout the length and breadth of this
land of ours. Most of the houses are
owned by the dwellers therein, and
special inducements have been offered
the mechanic and artisan to build. All
of the new additions are at once made
attractive.

Elkhart is in no sense a boom town,
but the steady growth has been the result
of its advantageous location as a manu-
facturing center.

This American city welcomes the
home seeker as well as the manufac-
turer. It extends a cordial welcome
and offers every advantage for those
contemplating a new and permanent
location.

THE NEW LIBRARY BUILDING

FASHIONS FOR THE HOLIDAY TIME

The first month of real winter is also the
month of holiday making and normal women
are preparing attractive costumes with which
to celebrate the happy Christmas season.
This year there is exceptional opportunity to
be becomingly and smartly dressed at moder-
ate cost. For, while there is much extrava-
gance abroad, styles are not over difficult
and any clever needlewoman should be able
to make her own gowns with the aid of
correct and carefully fitted patterns. Visit-
ing and church costumes made of velvet and
of cloth with tiny little Eton coats and c:rcu-
lar skirts are among the best liked models of
the season and
are exceeding-
ly chic and el-
egant while
they involve
the least pos-
•sible labor
in the mak-
ing. The one
illus t ra te d
(5104-5175) is
adapted to all
s e aso nable
materials and
can be varied
again and
again as one
trimming or
another is
used. In this
instance the
skirt is plain
and the little
jacket is edged
with fur, but

there are a great many handsome bandings
which can be substituted for this last and the
skirt can be finished in various ways. Ap-
plied bands and tucks are greatly liked and
are always handsome, while braiding makes
as elegant a finish as any known and is
greatly in vogue. For a woman of medium
size will be required, for the jacket 3^ yards
of material 21, or i# yards 52 inches wide;
for the skirt, 9 yards 21, or 4^ yards 52
inches wide.

j Graceful and attractive house gowns are
among the most urgent demands of the holi-
day season and the ones illustrated will there-

6104 Eton Jacket, 32 to 40 bust.

5175 Three Piece Skirt

22 to 30 waist.

fore be quite certain to find a hearty welcome.
The gown made with the little square chem-
isette at the neck (5172-5063) is shown in dark
red h e n r i e t-
ta with band-
ing of velvet
ribbon and
chemisette of
ecru lace, but
will be found
entirely satis-
factory for all
silk and wool
fabrics that
can be shirred
with success.
For the medi-
um size will be
required, for
the waist 4^
yards of ma-
terial 21 or 2j£
yards 44 in-
ches wide with 5172 Shirred BlouseTw to 40 bust.
Y* yard 18 in- 6083 Shirred Skirt, 22 to 30 waist,
ches wide for

the chemisette ; for the skirt 10^" yards 21,
or 5^ yards 44 inches wide.

The second of the gowns (5161-4874 in-
cludes the cape effect that is so fashionable

this season
and allows a
choice of el-
bow or full
length sleeves.
I n this in-
stance the ma-
terial is corn
colored messa-
1 i n e s a t'i n
while the lace
is cream color
and the trim-
ming is band-
ing of taffetta,
but for this
gown, as for
the preceding
one, all the
fashionable
soft materials

6161 Blouse with cape, 32 to 40 bust are <luite aP'
4874 Circular Skirt, 22 to 30 waist propriate. Ma.

The May Manton Patterns Illustrated In this article may be obtained for 10 cents each. Address, Fashion Department
National Magazine, 944 Dorchester Avenue, Boston, Muss.

FASHIONS FOR THE HOLIDAY TIME

5154 Loose Box Coat,
32 to 42 bust.

teriai required for the medium size is, for
the waist 4% yards 21, or 2^ yards 44 inches
wide with % yards of all-over lace; for the
skirt 1 1 yards 21, or $% yards 44 inches wide.
Loose coats made in
box styles are becom-
ing to almost all fig-
ures and have the ad-
ditional merit of being
slipped on, with ease
while they are in no
way liable to crush the
pretty waists worn be-
neath as are those of
the tighter sort This
one (5154) is suited
alike to the general all
round wrap and to the
suit and can appropri-
ately be made of any
seasonable cloaking
material or any of the simpler suitings, al-
though it is shown in broadcloath, wood
brown in color. To make it for a woman of
medium size will be required, 2% yards of
material 44, or 2% yards 52 inches wide.

Fancy blouses always are in demand and
always are fascinating. No woman ever yet
had too many and an extra one always finds
a place. In the model shown (5150) is presen-
ted an exceedingly at-
tractive design that
can be utilized in
many ways and for
many materials. In
the illustration it is
made of chiffon taffeta
combined with lace
and worn with a skirt
to match, but it also
suits the separate
blouse, which serves
so many occasions ad-
mirably well, when it
appropriately could be
made from any p-etty waisting of the season.
White and color matching the suites are fa-
vorites for this last purpose, but no law can
be laid down as individual tastes must al-
ways decide such details. For the medium
size the waist will require 4)4 yards of ma.
teriai 21, or 2% yards 44 inches wide with ft
yard of all-over lace and 2 ft yards of lace
edging.
However many elaborate costumes one

51 50 Pancy Tucked
Blouse. 32 to 40 bust

5171 Tucked Shirt
Waist, 32 to 42 bust.

may have, the shirt waist must be included

in the wardrobe if anything like comfort and

satisfaction are to result. This one (5171) is

one of the newest and

best of the season, be-
coming and attractive,

while yet it retains the

essential simplicity of

the garment. Silk and

wool waistings are

alike appropriate for

the lined waists while

with the lining omitted

it well can be utilized

for the cotton and linen

ones that many women

wear throughout the

entire year. Fora

woman of medium '

size will be required 4^ yards of material

21 or 2 yards 44 inches wide.
Skirts that clear the ground have become
acknowledged favori-
tes and are to be noted
upon all street gowns,
while they also are
much liked for the
simpler gowns of in-
door wear. The tuck-
ed model (5141) illus-
trated, is among the
best to be found and

B141 FiveGored Ticked falls in exceedingly
Skirt, 22 to 30 waist, becoming and grace-
ful folds and lines,

while it is really simplicity itself, being cut in
five gores and laid in tucks that are stitched
flat to yoke depth.
For a woman of me-
dium size it will re-
quire 8>£ yards of ma-
terial 21 or 4% yards
44 inches wide.

House jackets must
never be omitted from
any Winter wardrobe.
The model chosen, 5153
is eminently simple yet
at the same time is
eminently becoming
and attractive. Can
be made as dressy as
one may like. For
the medium size will be required 4^ yards
of material 2j or 2^ yards 44 inches wide.

5153 House Jacset,
32 to 44 oust.

The May Manton Patterns Illustrated In this article may be obtained for 10 cents each. Address Fashion Department,
National Magazine, 944 Dorchester Avenue, Boston, Mass.

FASHIONS FOR THE HOLIDAY TIME

6 1 74 Long or Short
Kimono, 34 to 42 bust

The negligee is really a necessity of mod-
ern life and this one, (5174) cut on suggested
Oriental lines, means
perfect rest and relax-
ation. In this case it
is made of an Oriental
cotton crepe and is
trimmed with band-
ings of plain China
silk but cashmeres and
light weight flannels
and all the long list of
similar materials are
quite appropriate. Al'
so it can be cut off to
make a sacque if bet-
ter liked. In addition
to serving for the
wardrobe of the maker
herself, let it be whis-
pered, it makes a most
attractive and satisfac-
tory Christmas gift and one that is certain
of its welcome and of serving a definite use.
For the medium size will be required 7^
yards of material 27 or 5^ yards 44 inches
wide with iJ/% yards of silk or 5^ yards of
ribbon for the vest.

Busy women always find a need for pro-
tective aprons whether they are housewives
or artists or whatever form the industry may
take. This one (5157) not alone serves this
end, but it also is at-
tractive and becoming.
In the illustration it is
made of a checked
gingham but white
butcher's linen is
peculiarly desirable,
being exception ally
durable and service-
able, while there are
a great many other
things which might be
suggested. For the
medium size will be
required $% yards of
material 27 or 5^
yards 36 inches wide.
Children must never
be overlooked at any
season of the year but least of all at the
Christmas tide. The two dresses illustrated
are equally attractive and equally charming
while each serves a widely different purpose.

5157 Work Apron

with Hall Sleeves,

Small, Medium, Large.

The shirred costume (5162) is graceful,
charming and attractive, well suited to all
colored cashmeres, veilings and the sort and
to the dressy occasions that are certain to
arise at this season. For a girl of twelve
will be required 6% yards of material 27
or 4^ yards 44 inches wide with % yards
18 inches wide for the chemisette and
cuffs.

6170 Girl's Costume,
8 to 14 yean,

6162 Girl's Coctumci
8 to 14 years.

The plainer dress (5170) is one of the best
liked of the season for school and for simple
home wear and is very generally becoming
and charming while it is by no means dif-
ficult. The little waist is made over a
smoothly fitted foundation and the skirt is
five gored. Both are laid in tucks that turn
toward one another to give the effect of in-
verted plaits and are joined by means of
a belt, the closing being made at the
back.

For a girl of twelve trie dress will require
f>y2 yards of material 27 or 3^ yards 44
inches wide.

Young girls who are
in the transition stage
from childhood to wom-
anhood are always alive
to pretty things to wear
and in the illustration,
(5183) is to be found a
waist which is quite cer-
tain to meet with their
approval. For a girl of
fourteen will be required
3^f yards of material 21
or i# yards 44 inches I183 Misses' Blouse

•j vu f/ c Waist, 12 to 16 years,

wide with 54 yards of

all-over lace for the chemisette.

The May Mantou patterns illustrated in this article may be obtained for 10 cents each. Address, Fashion Department
National Magazine, 944 Dorchester Avenue, Boston, Mass.

VOU remember that time when you got
up in the early morning and tried to
catch Santa Glaus napping? Has there
ever been anything in your life that has
brought you quite so much pleasure as
those early Christmas mornings?

Every recurring Christmas tide, my
heart just goes out to the children of
the universe, hoping that they may
have a happy Christmas and keep such
blessed memories of the Yuletide as will
encourage them for the coming life
struggle as nothing else seems to do.
Oh! that night before Christmas, when
all the world seems to suddenly open its
heart as at no other time in the year.
What a blessing it would be if we
could preserve that spirit through the
365 days of the year. How all the acri-
monious forces of life would be nulli-
fied and chained if the halo that shines
from the cradle of Bethlehem could be
widened to spread over the whole year!

The interest of a good deed com-
pounds and accumulates benefits. After
all, what is a better investment for any
human being than just being kind and
lovable and heartsome? For myself I
feel that in the treasure-trove of Heart
Throbs I have my Christmas tree.

Well, now, we must to business and
get the Christmas trees ready! How
many an elder will think as he retires:
"Well, I am tempted to hang up my
stockings once more and see if anything
conies." We are .ashamed to do it, of
course, but the desire is there — I have

heard it said that 'there is little differ-
ence between a man and a child, except
in size."

It is a good many years since this
country has known a more prosperous
Christmas than that of 1905, which is
all the more reason why each one of us
should see that not only the poor and
lonely are fed and cared for, but that
each one of our acquaintance is given
a cordial greeting. You recall that
lonely, elderly person across the way?
Do not forget him or her when you are
enjoying yourself in your own home. I
think I never was more impressed with
the intense loneliness of some elderly
people than I was by a little incident
that came under my notice last Summer.

It was at a beach hotel. There was
wealth, beauty and gaiety on every
hand. The orchestra was playing, the
little groups clustered about in listening
attitudes, the young people in the shad-
ows— I wonder why — the older people
comfortably seated in the foreground.
The long, hot day was closing to the
peaceful music of the gentle "hush" of
the waves as they washed against the
rocks and drew back along the sand,
gleaming in the moonlight. I sat in a
piazza chair enjoying a cigar, when I
was attracted by a familiar face. In a
moment I identified the gentleman as
Senator Beveridge. I was about to
speak, when an old lady dressed in
mourning arose from her chair and
hesitatingly addressed him. Graceful

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

and ladylike, her manner was composed
yet eager, but had in it a touch of shy
timidity that was most pathetic. It
looked like the breaking up of years of
reserve.

"You are Senator Beveridge," she
said "and I feel that no introduction is
necessary. I have followed your career
and seem to know you from seeing your
picture and reading what you have writ-
ten."

It was not so much the words as the
manner that suggested that she was ap-
pealing against the absolute loneliness
of her own lot. No one who knows the
senator can doubt the nature of his reply
to such an appeal, and the kindly court-
esy of his response was touched with
a gentle reverence such as he might
have shown his own mother. In a few
minutes they seemed to be the best of
friends. They sat so close to me that I
could not help hearing the conversation.
"I am alone in the world," she said,
"I have lost my boy and girl and my
husband. I came here to escape the
loneliness of my home, but when I look
around and see how the young people
. in their happiness forget us older folks,
I feel more desolate than when alone. I
have been some days among these hun-
dreds of guests, yet I am so lonely — so
lonely— and I just felt that if I could
talk with you I should be understood."

Well, she certainly seemed to have
found the right person this time, for she
and the senator talked and laughed to-
gether all through the evening like
mother and son, and I do not think she
had any more lonely hours while he
stayed at the hotel.

Now this Christmas don't get the idea
that the old people are too old to join
in the games. Nobody is too old to
play at Christmas time. I well remem-
ber the first Christmas that we heard
our "Grandma" sing. It is true her
voice quavered, but how delighted we
were to know that Grandma could sing
real tunes. Before that we never heard

anything more than snatches of lullaby.
Take my word for it, there is no pleasure
so great as the pleasure of seeing old
people enjoy themselves with the chil-
dren. So we all go back to the days of
candy, nuts, red sleds and the horns that
soon grew hoarse. Though the tinsel
that bedecked our Christmas trees is
long ago tarnished, we feel something of
the old time glow as we watch the pleas-
ure of the children of today.

THE National Magazine party for
Mexico will leave Chicago on Janu-
ary 23, with Charles H. Gates, in his
private train. This special private train
will consist of a baggage car, dining car,
sleeping car, commodious library obser-
vation car, club car, and the number of
passengers will positively be limited to
the accommodations. There will be no
crowding. On this train we will see
Mexico, the land that Cortez conquered.

We will leave Chicago on the famous
Santa Fe route and arrive in Monterey
over the Mexican Central on Saturday,
the twenty-seventh. Sunday will be a
day of rest at Tampico. The train will
be taken to the beach on the Gulf of
Mexico, where we shall have an oppor-
tunity to spend a quiet, delightful day.
On that first Sunday in a foreign coun-
try, we will hold a gathering and try
the talents of our members. From there
will be sent a hearty greeting to all the
readers of the National.

On Monday, January 29, we get down
to business and go off to San Luis
Potosi, stopping at Choy Cave, El Abra
del Caballeros, Puente de Dios, and
other places. Some of the grandest
scenery in Mexico may be seen in this
day's journey. On Tuesday we shall
be in San Luis Potosi until 6 p. m., at
which hour we leave for Aguascalientes,
reaching that unpronounceable place at
eleven o'clock. Here we spend the
forenoon of Wednesday and visit the
celebrated baths, which are near the

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

station. Next we go to Leon, arriving
at 5 p. m., but leave again in a couple
of hours and arrive in Marfil at 9 p. m.
From here we will make a visit to Guan-
ajuato. Here may be seen the old re-
duction works, where silver is obtained
by the ancient patio process. Mounted
on burros, we shall visit the catacombs,
a trip that will doubtless recall ancient
Rome, which can no longer boast exclu-
sive possession of catacombs, since the
Mexican ruins are older even than hers.
All of Friday we remain in Guadalajara,
and on Saturday we arrive at Lake
Chapala at 1:30. After looking upon
this bit of Switzerland in America, we
leave for Mexico City.

On Sunday, Monday and Tuesday,
we shall explore the city, spending
Wednesday, Thursday and Friday in
visiting Chapultepec, Guadalupe, Float-
ing Gardens and other places of interest.
At Chapultepec we shall read a page of
the story of American valor, for here
a notable victory was won. What pic-
ture postals will be forwarded to the
dear ones at home — souvenirs of the
sunny land through which we are pass-
ing. Seen from the modern luxury of
a private train, yet the traveler is carried
abruptly back into prehistoric ages. The
mediaeval ages were young compared
with the civilization of Mexico.

On Friday we leave Mexico City at
10 p. m. for the tropics, arriving on
Saturday at 6 a. m. in Esperanza. Here
only a two hours' stay is made, and we
leave for Orizaba, which we reach at
11:45 a- m- We shall lunch here on a
coffee plantation near Cordoba, leaving
again at 2 p. m. for Puebla, where we
spend the following Sunday, making it
a day of rest. On Monday, February
12, we leave by special car for the Pyra-
mid of Chulula, returning at noon. We
get a glimpse of this American Egypt
and wonder how many tourists who rush
off to the Nile are aware that right here
at home they have a pyramid on their
own ground. This same day sees us

back in Mexico City at the scheduled
hour of 10 p. m. We leave again next
morning to visit the ruins of Teposteco.
This excursion is made on horseback
and takes about four hours. We leave
Parque somewhere about midday and
reach Cuernavaca in the afternoon.
After a couple of hours to look around,
we go off once more to Mexico City, but
this time we only stay an hour, leaving
at ii p. m. for Zacatecas, which we reach
at 3 p. m. on Wednesday, the fourteenth
day of February, Saint Valentine's day.

On Thursday, February 15, we shall
be in Chihuahua, in the afternoon, leav-
ing at 6 130 and reaching El Paso some-
where about midnight. This ends the
Mexican tour, and from here there is
a choice of three routes by which mem-
bers of the party may return. This is
the parting of the ways, for some will
doubtless want to return from El Paso
by special train, while others go on to
Grand Canon and the Petrified Forests,
but one thing is certain — the friends of
a month will be the friends of a lifetime.
In no other way can people become so
well acquainted with fellow mortals as
on a private train, and especially if it be
one of Charles H. Gates' tours, where
there is always a spirit of good fellow-
ship.

What fine times people have on the
observation platforms. Everyone is pre-
pared to rest and enjoy, but there is
one man on that train who is in for hard
work, and he is General Gates. He
does work, and if any comfort or con-
venience is lacking in the appointments
it certainly will not be his fault.

On Friday, February 16, we shall leave
El Paso for the Petrified Forests of Ari-
zona, going over the famous Santa Fe
route, which leads also to the Grand
Canon. Saturday, February 17, will be
spent in going over this wonderful re-
gion formed by nature's hand alone.
On the following Sunday we hope to see
the Grand Canon of Arizona, which is
one of the marvels of the world. Mon-

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

day will also be spent there, as we shall
not leave until 6 p. m. , and then we take
flight once more on the good old Santa
Fe route. Stopping at old Indian Pue-
bla at Laguna, we reach Albuquerque at
9 a. m. on Tuesday. We make only a
short stay here, and on Wednesday reach
Kansas City, but leave again in half an
hour, arriving finally in Chicago at the
Dearborn street station at 8 a. m., on
Washington's birthday, where we have
a great many handshakes and good-
byes.

A fine trip — how could it be other-
wise? General Gates has for many
years made these trips to Mexico, and
is now looked upon by that government
as one of its most valiant champions, for
through his direct personal influence and
as the result of his trips, millions and
millions of dollars have been invested in
developing the riches of this ancient land.
All honor to Diaz, the president, who
has made the Mexican republic a stable
and shining light in the Western states.
I recall to mind that story of the
boy who took his first trip upon the
Mississippi river. Sitting on the deck
by moonlight in the Summer night, he
seemed lost in admiration of the scene
before him. The myriads of stars, the
magnificent waters of the river, the
twinkling lights of passing steamers, all
made up a wonderful scene to the boy
just come from home. A gentleman
watching him asked :

"Are you admiring the river and the
beauty of the night?"
"Yes, oh yes," said the boy, "but—"
"Can there be a 'but' in such a view
as this?"

"I was wishing," said the lad simply,
"that my mother was here."

So it will be with this National Maga-
zine trip. We shall all enjoy it, but how
much more delightful it would be if we
could have all our home folks with us!
However, the next best thing will be to
tell them about it and give them all the
information we can in our article. My

only regret will be that every subscriber
cannot go along.

I have arranged with Mr. Gates that
in addition to our regular party, we can
take a limited number of other people.
I have told him that the people who
would go with Joe Chappie are guaran-
teed to be goodnatured, and would be
sure to enjoy everything and be always
in the right mood to go ahead and have
a good time. The train will only take
a certain number, and Mr. Gates abso-
lutely will not "crowd," so just write at
once either to him or to me for full par-
ticulars. The price of the trip from
Chicago, including absolutely all ex-
penses is $385 per person. I believe
that this trip is of much more value to
the average American than a trip abroad.

«%7ERY much to the point" will be the
popular verdict when Harrington
& Richardson Arms Company's new
calendar for 1906 is out. It's an artistic
and realistic picture of a buxom lass at
target practice.

It's not intended as a free calendar,
but National readers can probably secure
them for their homes or offices by writing
to the factory which is in Worcester.
Mass. , and mention the National Maga-
zine, as their announcement appears
elsewhere in this number.

THE work done by the Boston Eye Insti-
tute is remarkable, and many a man
remembers with gratitude his visit to 41
Boylston street, where Dr. Treible and
his able assistants have made such a won-
derful success in treating suffering eyes.
Among his patrons are Mr. Woodman,
superintendent of the New York, New
Haven & Hartford Railroad, Judge E.
T. Doe, and Mr. James Nap, treasurer
of the Elm Farm Milk Company.

In connection with the institute there
is also a Correspondence Department,
through which helpful advice may be
obtained for sufferers in all parts of the
country.

Our Newlfearii Greeting

Compiled By Agnes Dean Cameron

VICTORIA, BRITISH COLUMBIA

ANEW YEAR ! Everywhere the New Year ! There are books and toys for the New
Year, glittering trinkets for the New Year, dresses for the New Year, schemes of fortune
for the new Year, kind wishes and good deeds for the New Year. — Charles Dickens.

V. . <* - . : . - ; - . V'

LIANG sorrow! Care will kill a cat, and therefore let's be merry. — George Wither.

A MERRY heart doeth good like a medicine. —The Bible.

fJITY and need make all flesh kin. There is no caste in blood, which runneth of one hue ;
nor caste in tears, which trickle salt with all. — Sir Edwin Arnold.

QAUSE, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers,
' that would never have bound you, but for the first link formed on that memorable day.

— Charles Dickens.
VOU can't "have " your pudding unless you can " eat " it. — Ruskin.

O nation can be destroyed while it possesses a good home life.

•/• G. Holland-

EACH man can learn something from his neighbor ; he can learn to have patience with
*•"• him — to live and let live. — Charles Kingsley.

IA/E will not be proud, resentful, or unforgiving.

Charles Dickens.

VET I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, and the thoughts of men
' are widened by the process of the suns. — Tennyson.

IACH good thought or action moves the dark world nearer to the sun.

— Whittier.

GREAT thing can only be done by a great man, and he does it without effort.

— Riiskiii.

REMEMBER that you are an actor in a drama of such sort as the Author choses. If it be
His pleasure that you should act a poor man, see that you act it well ; or a cripple, or a
ruler, or a private citizen. For this is your business, to act well the given part. ,

— Epictetus.

342 OUR NEW YEAR'S GREETING

CIVE minutes of today are worth as much to me as five minutes in the next millenium.

— Emerson.

HEST is the sweet sauce of labor. — Plutarch.

BANISH the tears of children ! Continual rains upon the blosso-ns are hurtful.

—Jean Paul.

EN connot live isolated — we are all bound together for mutual good or else for mutual
misery, as living nerves in the same body. No higher man can separate himself from
any lowest — Carlyle.

THE times (as Carlyle says ) are bad; very well, you are there to make them better.

— John Burroughs.

UIEIGH-HO! we must ring out the year! Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, the patient
' year has labored through the destined round and now lays down its weary head to die.
The streets are full of motion and the shops are decked out gaily. The New Year, like
an infant heir to the whole world, is waited for with welcome and rejoicing.

— Charles Dickens.

EARNESTLY said the young King, " I have found it, the road to the rest you seek —
I— the strong shall halt for the weary, the hale shall halt for the weak."

— Rudyard Kipling.

IVJOW it is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in

* * disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter

and good humor. — Charles Dickens.

AND surely and without doubt there will be efforts and duties for us above as there have
•^ been below. — Bulwer-Lytton.

THEN use life just as a stuff to try the soul's strength on. — Robert Browning

I CONTEND that each one's business in the social system is to be agreeable. — Dickens.

0 MEASURELESS sky and the unnumbered stars are equally granted to king and
> beggar. — Bulwer-Lytton.

IV1OW I feel the earth move sunward, I join the great march onward, and take by faith,
* ' while living, my freehold of thanksgiving. — Whittier.

A FRESH mind keeps the body fresh; take in the ideas of the day, drain off those of
*• yesterday. — Bulwer-Lytton.

LET us remember that, young or old, we are all on our last cruise. If there be a fill of
tobacco among the crew, for God's sake pass it round, and let us have a pipe before
we go. — Robert Louis Stevenson.

VOLUME XXIII.

Attai

JANUARY, 1906

NUMBER FOUR

ains a

r Waisn

By Joe Mitcnell Cnapple

SENATOR HENRY CABOT LODGE
OF MASSACHUSETTS

DIRECT from London
and Berlin, the capi-
tals of the two nations
with which we are so
closely related, Washing-
ton offered to me a sharp
contrast that muggy day
in November. There
may be only one London,
with its fog and yellow
glare of lights, only one
Berlin with its splendors
of statue and spire; but
as I gazed up Pennsyl-
vania avenue, and looked
upon the dome of the
capitol at -Washington,
I felt prouder than ever
that I was an American :
this not in boastiulness,
but rather in the spirit of
the returned traveler who
feels that the thrill of
"home again" is more
to him than all the
world-riches that may lie
outside the boundary
lines of his own land.
It was a busy time.

SENATOR JOHN T. MORGAN OF

ALABAMA

344

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

SENATOR BAILEY OF TEXAS

Photograph by Clinedinst

There were reports of all the depart-
ments to be published; the finishing
touches were being placed upon the mes-
sage, conferences were coming on thick
and fast. Early in the morning cabinet
officers were at the executive office,
beginning a day's work which would last

until well into the night. A conference
with Speaker Cannon indicated that the
president had concentrated his attention
on railroad legislation, setting aside
tariff revision or anything else, and the
general belief was that the president had
reached a conclusion in regard to the
temper of the house of representatives
and realized what he might expect on
the railroad rate proposition. Walking
toward the executive office, through the
White House grounds,! met several sena-
tors, whose hearty handshake indicated
they were in piime trim for a busy sea-
son, after a season of leisure. Through
the glass - panelled doors, the visitors
began to pass early, for there was a long
schedule of appointments.

It is interesting to study the persons
in the president's outer office, and see
what a genius of patience it requires to
wait gracefully. A gentleman who is at
home recognized as one of the leading
lawyers of his city happened to be among
those who waited that day. I could not
but conclude that it must be a new ex-
perience to him. He crossed and re-
crossed his legs — the right over the left,
the left over the right; he manicured his
nails, he trained his moustache and
beard in the way he most desired them
to go; he studied his notes, then he drew
out a book and made some observations
therein. He combed and recombed his
hair with his impatient fingers, and I
was beginning to wonder what next he
would find to occupy his restless and
active mind, when along came his sena-
tor and the waiting period was ended.
A waiting-room is always full of charac-
ter, for then people are more or less off
guard and their real selves come out,
whether it be at a little wayside railway
station or in the outer office of the execu-
tive mansion.

It was interesting to hear how Mark
Twain and the distinguished George
Harvey, of the house that Harper
built, waited two hours in the inside

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

345

MR. HITCHCOCK OF MISSOURI, SECRETARY OF THE INTERIOR,
AND HIS DAUGHTERS

ETHAN ALLEN HITCHCOCK, FORMERLY OUR AMBASSADOR TO RUSSIA, IS NOW CON-
DUCTING MERCILESS PROSECUTIONS OF MEN IN AND OUT OF PUBLIC LIFE WHO HAVE
BEEN STEALING VAST TRACTS OP PUBLIC LAND BY ONE DEVICE OR ANOTHER
Photograph by Clinedinat, Washington

346

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

A QUIET DAY IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES

Photograph by Clinedinst

room to see Secretary Root. A fact
which indicates something of the pres-
sure of work on that_ official, for what
else could withhold even a cabinet offi-
cer from hastening to greet the philoso-
pher who has long since won the heart
•of the world to his genial self. Mr.
Clemens carries his seventy years easily,
and/in his inimitable way, he could not
resist commenting upon what he ob-
served during those waiting moments.
He, too, crossed and recrossed his legs,
ran his hands through his hair, twirled
his moustache, and showed all the signs
of impatience exhibited by the distin-
guished lawyer in the executive office;
but it is certain that neither he nor his
companion had a dull moment, for Mark
Twain is always ready with entertain-
ment for himself and others. There may
have been a lurking expression in his
eye that suggested a longing for a cob
pipe, a pair of slippers and a cozy cor-

ner, but he had come to see the secre-
tary, and it suffices to say he made good
use of the time until Secretary Root
appeared.

Not long after this the burly Secre-
tary Taft hove in sight, and it was
safe to infer that the Panama proposition
was to be again brought to the front. It
was interesting to see how the distin-
guished secretary of war disposed of the
retinue of foreigners who were following
him for considerations of all sorts. The
all-absorbing proposition for the month
at Washington, it seemed to a casual
observer, was the Panama canal, now
passing through its crucial stage of irri-
tating delays and whispers of scandal.

A sea-level canal is conceded to be the
most certainly satisfactory investment of
the people's money in the long run, even
though it may entail an additional fif-
teen years of work and an extra expendi-

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

347

ture of $150,000,000. The Panama canal
is more than a national project; though
governed by Americans, it is to be a
world's highway, changing the map of
commerce. It is natural that the presi-
dent should desire to see the canal com-
pleted during his present term of office,
so that it might go down in history as
a Roosevelt achievement, but that hope
is past. This administration may do the
digging, another will certainly have to

do the dedicating within a decade.

The opening of the sixtieth congress
was an event of unusual importance.
There is something in the mere change
from the fifties to the sixties, the mark-
ing of another decade, that suggests the
flight of time, even to the beardless
members. Public hopes of legislation
are likely to be disappointed, for when

SECRETARY ROOT, THE ORGANIZER, AND SECRETARY TAFT, THE
ENERGIZER OF ADMINISTRATION ENTERPRISES.

348

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

was there a measure yet proposed that
did not look like a sieve before it had run
the gauntlet of congressional inspection
and discussion?

The reorganization of the whole
method of government is radiating from
the busy office of the secretary of state,
and his department is setting a good
example, for very little unfinished busi-
ness is on hand in that office when the

Empire and Germany, and I am not so
sure it is altogether to our advantage to
bring this business aspect so much to
the front; for in Washington the aim
and end of legislation seems to be
dollars and cents — not alone dollars and
cents for the trusts and corporations, but
for the whole nation as individuals.
When it comes down to the last analysis,
it looks as though every human being
were actuated by the same grasping im-

WILLIAM TRAVERS JEROME, DISTRICT ATTORNEY OF NEW YORK

Photograph by N. Lazarnick

doors are closed, no matter whether the
closing hour is four o'clock or seven.
This injection of distinctively business
routine in federal affairs is perhaps a
necessity of the times, but one can see
the picturesque and romantic phases of
public life withering beneath this out-
burst of activity.

It furnishes a sharp contrast to the
manner in which this work is conducted
in the government offices of the British

pulse, though the aim of some is not to
create more wealth, but better to distrib-
ute the riches already in existence.

But, heigh-ho! this will not do! I am
finding fault with myself, for I found,
before I had been back on American
soil a day, the same intensity and haste
dominating me. I also was looking on
everything " dollar-wise," and hoping
that great reforms might come to pass
through the taking away of the power

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

349

of graft and the more equal distribution
of wealth. I felt that day as though I
must be back again in dear old Lun'non,
and unconsciously I turned up my trou-
sers and carried an umbrella as naturally
as though I had always lived in a rainy

SENATOR BOIES PENROSE

UNDER HIS LEADERSHIP, THE OLD QUAY
MACHINE IN PENNSYLVANIA WAS OVER-
WHELMINGLY BEATEN BY THE REFORMERS
IN THE NOVEMBER ELECTIONS

Photograph by Clinedinst

SENATOR J. FRANK ALLEE

DELAWARE'S ONLY REPRESENTATIVE IN
THE FEDERAL SENATE IS NOW FIGHTING
"GAS" ADDICKS, WHO PUT HIM THERE

Photograph by Clinedinst

climate, where an umtrella is man's in-
separable companion. I even contem-
plated the advisability of having an
extra pocket in my trousers, so that I
could carry an umbrella without using
my hands, and I considered whether it
might not be well for me to do as I saw

350

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

£
U

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

the men in Berlin do, hang my umbrella
on a button of my ulster.

The chief impulse of the man who
has been abroad is to keep talking about
it all the time; telling all that he saw
without reference to the tastes of his
hearers, or considering whether or not
they are interested in what he says. I
fear that I am no exception. Very
likely it will wear off before another
month comes around.

this document. It tells at a single glance
the story of the wonderful prosperity of
the nation, for from the soil, and through
the farmer's hands, come the raw ma-
terials at least of a nation's wealth.

Corn is still king, and has reached his
highest production , showing twenty-seven
hundred millions of bushels, the value of
which is nearly a billion and a quarter of
dollars. Hay follows, to the value of
$605,000,000, cotton at $575,000,000, and

JOHN F. PATTISON OF OHIO

THE NEW GOVERNOR OF THE BUCKEYE
STATE WON OVER GOVERNOR HERRICK IN
NOVEMBER, PARTLY THROUGH THE SUP-
PORT OF THE TEMPERANCE ELEMENT, AND
MORE, PERHAPS, BY REASON OF THE UN-
' POPULARITY OF "BOSS" COX OF CINCINNATI,
WHO HAD ASSUMED A DICTATORSHIP OF
THE REPUBLICAN PARTY IN OHIO, AND OF
SENATOR FORAKER, WHO WAS EVEN THEN
LEADING AN OPEN FIGHT AGAINST THE
PRESIDENT'S PLAN KOR FEDERAL REGULA-
TION OF RAILWAY FREIGHT RATES

/"VNE of the most interesting federal
reports sent out this year was that
of Secretary Wilson of the department of
agriculture. Tales of the wealth of
Croesus grow pale in comparison with

JOHN F. LACEY OF IOWA

ONE OF THE STRONG, QUIET MEMBERS OF

THE HAWKEYE STATE IN THE LOWER

BRANCH OF CONGRESS, AND A GREAT

LAWYER

wheat $525,000,000, overtopping the
highest values ever reached. This is the
quartette of the premier crops of the
nation.

The modest dairy cow comes along
with $665,000,000, while the farmers'
general products foot up to nearly half
a billion dollars. "And yet," says the
secretary, "the story is not done. The
production of the American farmer sur-
passes that of any other country in all

352

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

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AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

353

history. The stupendous aggregate of
six billions, four hundred and fifteen
millions is reached, showing an increase
of two hundred and fifty-six millions in

Just read this again and see if you
can comprehend what it means! Farm
produce constitutes fifty-six and four-
tenths per cent, of the total products of

of two hundred and fifty-six millions in tenths per cent, of the total products o
one year. In ten years one-third of the the country and eighty-six and eight

SENATORS BURROWS (STRAW HAT) AND FOR-
AKER — A SUMMER SNAPSHOT

SENATOR FORAKER SHARES WITH SENATOR ALDRICH OF RHODE
ISLAND, SENATOR KEAN OF NEW JERSEY AND SENATOR ELKINS
OF WEST VIRGINIA THE BURDEN OF THE FIGHT AGAINST FEDERAL
CONTROL OF RAILWAY FREIGHT RATES. SENATOR BURROWS, AS A
DEFENDER OF THE TARIFF ON BEET SUGAR, LEADS THE OPPOSITION
TO GRANTING FREE TRADE FOR THE PHILIPPINES

population represented in farming will
produce wealth equal to half the entire
national wealth produced in three cen-
turies."

tenths of the total industries utilizing
raw materials. With such figures and
facts before us, it is not difficult to see
that the real money power of the coun-

SHOE AND LEATHER MEN LEAVING THE WHITE HOUSE

GOVERNOR DOUGLAS (IN SILK HAT) STANDS NEAR CENTER OF FRONT ROW. THE MEMBERS

OF THIS DELEGATION CALLED ON PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT IN NOVEMBER TO ENLIST HIS

INFLUENCE FOR THE REDUCTION OF TARIFFS ON HIDES

Photograph by the National Press Association

try will be held by the agrarian element.
The report this year also gives a review
of eight years past, and no romance ever
presented more thrilling records. The
agricultural department, perhaps more
than any other, is closely allied with the
interests of the whole world, and the in-
formation secured by alert observers and
compiled in such a document as this
report, is of deep interest to everyone.
The pamphlet does not treat alone of
grains and crops; .the various ani-
mals found on a farm are taken up and
their possible diseases; all kinds of
dairy products with the treatment of
plant diseases, plant production, the cul-
tivation of the soil, the purification of
water, the testing of seeds, the growth
of forests, the chemical investigation of

soil, surface or otherwise, work against
the cotton-boll weevil, — all are intelli-
gently and comprehensively treated. The
report reads like part of an encyclopedia
published by Mother Ceres.

In spite of all the wave of exposures
and talk of unfaithfulness among his
subordinates, the sturdy Iowa farmer
who has served his country so well as
secretary of agriculture maintains his
post and is recognized in foreign coun-
tries as one of the ablest heads cf de-
partments; go where you will, Secretary
Wilson of the American agricultural de-
partment is known. The keynote may be
expressed in one sentence: the American
thinks in universals, seeks production in
volume rather than in small quantities,
looking too often, perhaps, to the quan-

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

355

tity rather than the quality, and against
the resistless avalanche of his tremen-
dous production, foreign economists
stand aghast.

Contrast this picture of wealth ob-
tained with comparative ease in a new
country, with what I witnessed on the
banks of the Thames only a few days
before; ten thousand women marching
the streets of London, representing one
hundred thousand men unemployed.
They were seeking a hearing from the
prime minister, Mr. Balfour, but were
turned away with a helpless wave of the
hand — legislation, he said, could do noth-
ing for them, and their only hope was in

the charity of their countrymen, which
alone stood between them and utter star-
vation. If you could have looked into
those hopeless faces as I looked into
them, your mind would have flashed back
to your own land across the ocean, where
such great quantities of sustenance are
being poured out of the earth, season
after season.

The stranger in England, knowing
this state of affairs, looks with surprise
at the beautiful estates of "the gentry,"
where acres and acres of valuable land
are being held idle in pheasant and deer
preserves or in golf links, kept for the
pastime of a favored few. Recalling this,
when in the streets of London, one

A DELEGATION FROM OKLAHOMA LEAVING THE WHITE HOUSE

CHAPERONED BY SENATOR CULLOM OF ILLINOIS, THESE GENTLEMEN CALLED TO URGE
UPON THE PRESIDENT OKLAHOMA'S CLAIM TO STATEHOOD. THEY ADVOCATED THE ADMIS-
SION OF OKLAHOMA AND INDIAN TERRITORY AS A SINGLE STATE. THE PRESIDENT

PROMISED HIS AID.
Photograph by the National Press Association

356

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

watches the throngs roll by at night in
handsome carriages, in which the rich
dresses of the ladies gleam against the
black evening coats of the men, and can-
not but wonder whether something might
not be done by these wealthy folks for
the relief of this unfortunate state of the
masses of the people. It may well be
said of London, that it is the place where

MR. BONAPARTE, SECRETARY
OF THE NAVY

Photograph by Clinedinst

a shilling will go farther, and a pound
will do less than anywhere else in the
whole world.

Here also the cry is "back to the
soil," but the sad fact remains that the
English laws are such that it is almost

impossible for a workingman to make
even a decent living on the soil.

It was the case of an old man, whose
wife was partially crippled by rheuma-
tism. They lived on the side of a rug-

MR. METCALF, SECRETARY OF
COMMERCE AND LABOR

Photograph by Clinedinst

ged mountain, where, however, the soil
at the base was good. Obtaining permis-
sion of the owner of the farm below, the

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

357

old man rose at four o'clock every morn-
ing for months, often working in the light
of the Winter moon, drawing baskets of
earth up the side of the mountain to the

the projecting rocks. Here he made
himself a garden, hoping to grow suffi-

MR. SHAW, SECRETARY OF THE
TREASURY

Photograph by Olinedinst

little strip of ground beside his cottage,
where there was a flat surface between

MR. WILSON, SECRETARY OF
AGRICULTURE

Photograph by Cllnedinet

358

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

cient vegetables to eke out his meagre
pay as a farm laborer, and thus save a
trifle to keep himself and his wife from
"the workhouse" when he got past labor-
ing. The little garden grew and flour-
ished, and in June the old man's rent
was due. For the tiny, three-room cot-,
tage and the strip of barren ground he
had paid five pounds a year. Taking the
whole day for the journey, so difficult for

not pay they could go." Payment was
impossible — it was difficult to scrape up
even five pounds, and nine could never
be obtained even by strictest economy.
The old people went, and a younger
couple, earning a little better wage,
were put in to profit by the hard work
of the old man, done in the hours before
his twelve-hour day, from six to six,
began. Such a story needs no comment.

SENATORS KEAN AND DRYDEN OF NEW JERSEY

MR. DRYDEN (WITH WHITE BEARD) IS THE PRESIDENT OF THE PRUDENTIAL LIFE INSURANCE

COMPANY ("A3 STRONG AS GIBRALTER") AND SENATOR KEAN STANDS SHOULDER TO

SHOULDER WITH SENATORS ALDRICH, FORAKER AND ELKINS IN FIGHTING AGAINST FEDERAL

REGULATION OF RAILWAY FREIGHT RATES

Photograph by Clinedinst

her rheumatic limbs, the old wife pre-
sented herself at the office of the steward
of the estate — an estate the annual rent
roll of which is thirty-three thousand
pounds. She learned with horror that
they were" to be charged four pounds
extra fdr the "improvements" they had
made on the ground, and "if they could

Woe be to us in the time when our own
fair land falls under the spell that permits
acres of ground, needed to feed the peo-
ple, to pass into the splendid ruin of vel-
vet lawns and pheasant preserves, which
are infinitely more menacing to the mass-
es than the rankest weeds that clothe the
waste places. In a word, the whole sys-

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

359

tern is the outgrowth of erroneous land
laws, made by land owners, regardless of
the inalienable rights ot the people to
get out of the earth the wealth which the
Almighty has put there for their sus-
tenance.

THE recent visit of Prince Louis of
Battenburg to the United States re-
minded older officials of the time when
the Prince of Wales — now king of Eng-
land— visited this country. Prince Louis
is not only a scion of the English royal
house, but is closely related also to the
German nobility, and the nation in en-
tertaining him extended courtesy to both
England and Germany.

At the national capital, the prince
visited with keen interest every depart-
ment, commenting in a lively, facetious
way on what he saw. Although his time
was well occupied with banquets, recep-
tions, and other official and unofficial
functions, he managed to enjoy himself
all around, as well as to support the
dignity cf his name. While visiting
Mount Vernon — the sacred shrine of
Americans — he evinced that spirit of
race patriotism which animates Anglo-
Saxons. With uncovered head, he stood
in reverent silence before the tomb of
Washington, paying a sincere tribute to
the ideas and ideals which that great
man represented. He hastened back to
Washington to dine with his relative, the
president. For since it has been dis-
covered that Theodore Roosevelt is of
royal descent it is popularly supposed
that every member of royalty must
needs be a distant cousin of the presi-
dent and anyhow, "all good fellows are
akin," quoth he.

It was in New York, in company with
Admiral Evans, that the prince had the
gayest hours of all. Now, "Bob" Evans
has a happy way of having a good time,
and the greeting given to the representa-

tive of the English navy by the American
jolly tars was certainly inspiring. They
like a good fellow, no matter what uni-
form he wears, and the prince proved his
right to that title of distinction. He
startled New Yorkers when he told them
that an ordinary fleet of warships could
blow Manhattan into the sea in four
hours, but Gotham took occasion to for-
tify itself by such hospitality as has rarely
been bestowed upon one even of royal
blood.

It was interesting to observe in Europe
the keen interest with which the English
people read of the reception of Prince
Louis. In fact it was about the only
American news you could find in the
London papers at that time, and it was
used as a text for renewing ill feeling
between Germany and England. A
deliberate attempt was made to arouse
the kaiser's jealousy. But all the kaiser
will need to do is to send us over another
German prince and things will be equal.
j«

I MET Senator Joe Bailey one morning
in the sleeping-car, and actually failed
to recognize him, for it is indeed difficult
to realize that senatorial dignity may
hide beneath the disguise of undress
attire, frovvzled head, tooth brush in one
hand and brushes and dressing-case in
the other. I did not know him — I doubt
if I would have known my own brother
in similar circumstances, but as soon as
he got out of the sleeping-car and tied
his ever-present white necktie, donned
his flowing Prince Albert and got into
his sombrero hat, he was recognizable.
There are few young men in the senate
who have entrenched themselves more
securely in the affections of the people
than the young senator from Texas. He
certainly has a future of great use-
fulness before him, for he has in him
the elements of leadership, and such
qualities are sure to come to the front.

We unintentionally omitted copyright notice when printing "A Scene in the Banquet Hall of the
Bamboo Auditorium, San Fernando," in the November number of the National Magazine. This was
one of the pictures illustrating Secretary Taft's tour of the Philippines with the party including
Miss Roosevelt. The original photograph is copyrighted, 1905, by Underwcod & Underwood, New York.

KATE FIELD: A RARE AND HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED PORTRAIT

(360)

KATE FIELD, COSMOPOLITE

By Charles Warren Stoddard

Author of "South Sea Idyls," "For the Pleasure of His Company," etc,

MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA

ODDLY enough, I knew Kate Field
as a name, a name of distinction
and one to be respected, long before I
knew anything else concerning her. She
was a name only, a very well known
name, but I could not have told you why
her name impressed me and made me
wish to possess her autograph.

Probably it was her personality, which
was striking and unforgettable, that
caused her friends to think of her and
often speak of her as someone of impor-
tance, someone really worthwhile; thus,
as her friends were my friends, I came
to hear of her and think of her and talk
of her and. finally, to read her works,
until, at last, I ventured to write to her
in the' hope of receiving a reply — another
autograph for the collection, of which I
was so fond and proud.

The reply came in due season; here
it is:

NEW YORK, JUNE 9, 1868 — DEAR
SIR : I thank you for your kind words
and am more than pleased that my little
books should have strayed off to Cali-
fornia. If I live I hope to do something
more worthy of praise.

I can say nothing to you, a stranger,
that will be worth the reading. Every-
one must work out his own salvation and
in his own particular way.

My motto is Emerson's — "Hitch your
wagon to a star." If you do you will rise
sooner or later. Try it and see if the
effect is not a beneficial one in character.
I am Very truly yours,

KATE FIELD.

Her note paper was very small and
square; her handwriting very large and
square; there was a monogram at the
top of the first page, faintly rubricated.
"Hitch your wagon to a star!" I knew,
even then, that the admirable Emerson

was capable of uttering beautiful aphor-
isms that do not ring true unless the
chord of your soul happens to be pitched
in the same key with them: I know also
that the heavens are hard to reach and
that if I had been able to hitch my wagon
to a star my case would have been un-
comfortable, to say the least; and that
in all probability I should have spilled
out of the back seat — notwithstanding
the advice of the incomparable Emerson
and the bonny Kate.

The year 1868 was a busy year for her.
I wonder that she ever found the spare
moment in which to give, me a thought
and to dash off the few lines which I
prized so highly. No one can know, or
even begin to suspect the unflagging
energy and enthusiasm of this remarka-
ble personality, who has not read that
noble tribute to her, "Kate Field: A
Record," by Lilian Whiting. No one
knew her as Miss Whiting knew her.
They were twin sister-souls.

COR a glance at the life of a woman of
boundless and irrepressible vitality,
let me abreviate the brief record of her
life at this period, as recorded in her
Diary and quoted in Miss Whiting's
"Record." See how she begins a New
Year:

Jan. rst, 1868. Last night Dickens
read David Copperfield and Bob Sawyer's
Party with great effect. During the
afternoon I became possessed with the
idea to present the great Charles with a
New Year's offering in the shape of a
bouquet. * * Dashing wildly into
every flower shop in Broadway, and be-
ing told that only previous orders would
be filled, my ardor received numerous
shocks, but finally I discovered a young

362

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

German who had violets for sale, and
who would arrange them in a pretty
little basket.

"It is impossible to make the bouquet
now. I'll send them to you."

"I want them now." (It was then
5 o'clock. )

"I'll let you have the basket by 7
o'clock."

"No, I want it now."

"I'll send it at 6 o'clock."

"That will not answer."

"In half an hour."

"Now or never."

"Well, then, now," replied the young
German desperately and away he went
at the flowers. * * *

I had no sooner entered the building
than Mr. Dalby (Dickens' agent when-
ever and whereever he lectured) came
to me saying: "I have a message for you
from Dickens."

"Indeed! Pray what can it be?"

"I asked him whether he saw you in
the audience in Boston, to which he re-
plied, 'See her? Yes, God bless her!
She's the best audience I ever had.' "

At the close of the evening — he had
fondled Kate Field's floral tribute for a
moment as it stood on the desk beside
him — Dickens said:

"Ladies and gentleman, from my heart
of hearts I wish you a happy, happy
New Year."

"My flowers did that," adds Kate
Field; " it is the first speech he has
made in America."

Jan. 2. Heard Dickens in Dr. Mari-
goldfor the first time.

Jan. 3. Adelaide Phillips went with
me to hear Dickens in Christmas Carol.
Going up the hall steps Mr. Dalby gave
me a letter from Mr. Dickens. It is
charming. The most neatly worded
note I ever read. I feel one inch taller.
It is very sweet of Mr. Dickens to take
so much notice of my little offering.
(The violets.)

Jan. 4. Lippincott published my Ris-
tori and Marie Antoinette. The Phila-
delphia Press calls it the sensational
article. The Tribune stigmatizes it as
written in bad Carlyean. Thank you,
Mr. Ripley, I know nothing of Carlyle,
so must be naturally depraved. That
article will live to be noticed yet, if I

ever succeed in putting my Ristori to-
gether in book form. The Public Spirit
prints my first story, Love and War;
Springfield Republican copies it entire.

Jan. 9. Went with John Russell
Young of the Tribune to hear Mr.
Dickens a second time in Doctor Mari-
gold, — was more pleased than ever.
Had seats immediately in front. Caught
Mr. Dickens' eye on one occasion, and
felt that he saw way down into my boots.
His eye is a dissecting knife.

The note that so pleased the donor of
the violets ran as follows:

Westminister Hotel, New York,
Jan. 3, 1868. DEAR Miss KATE FIELD—
I entreat you to accept my most cordial
thanks for your charming New Year's
present. If you could know what pleas-
ure it yielded me you would be almost
repaid even for your delicate and sym-
pathetic kindness. But I must avow
that nothing in the pretty basket of
flowers was quite so interesting to me as
a certain bright, fresh face I had seen
at my readings, which I am told you
may see when you look in the glass.
With all good wishes, believe me.
Always faithfully yours,

CHARLES DICKENS.

To return to her Diary:

Jan. 18. My letter on Dickens in
Springfield Republican.

Jan. 79, Sunday. Ristori celebrates her
fete with a dinner to her company and a
proverb, " Un Mari dans du coton" acted
acted very cleverly by Bianca and
Giorgio. Ristori stood behind a screen,
and directed everything with as much
interest as if worlds depended on it.
My present was two copies of Marie
Antoinette article.

Jan. 22. Ristori sent me an exquisite
full-length photograph of herself, on
which is written, "To my dear and noble
friend, Kate Field. A remembrance of
sincere affection, from her true and
grateful friend, Adelaide Ristori del
Grillo."

I prize this highly, for Ristori to ac-
knowledge herself grateful is more than
I expected. Artists do not often make
this confession and concession. Took
leave of Ristori today. She is tired and
ill, but always uncomplaining.

Jan. 27. My article on Adelaide

KATE FIELD, COSMOPOLITE

363

Phillips appeared in the Tribune. Has
attracted much remark. Hope it will
do her good. No critic has ever done
justice to her genius.

Jan. 29. Addie (Phillips) made her
debut in La Favorite — a great success.
Her acting and singing beautiful. The
operatic sensation of many years, from
an artistic point of view. Of course,
Strakosch won't let the critics praise
her as she ought to be praised. What
a horrible life it is to be before the pub-
lic, and at the mercy of unprincipled
managers or vile critics. How I wish I
had control of an art organ! I'd have
the truth told.

Feb. j. Wrote Dickens. Dined at
the Bottas' with Helen Hunt and Charles
Elliot Norton. I invited them all to
opera ; also the Frothinghams. Addie
(Phillips) in Don Pasquale. All were
pleased.

Feb. 4. Wrote on Pen Photographs of
Dickens, — the hardest task I ever set
myself. Hope they will repay me for
the trouble when issued by Loring.
Shall I ever be independent in pocket?

Feb. 5. Breakfasted at Mrs. Botta's
with George Ripley, Helen Hunt, Maj.
De Forest, Mrs. Elliott, a Frenchman
and Du Chaillu. Mr. Ripley was my
right-hand man, and by far the most
brilliant person at the table. Returned
home at 2 p. m. Wrote on Dickens.

Feb. jo. Wrote on Dickens. Will
finish tomorrow, thank Heaven! Then
I'll stop writing for a fortnight and
breathe. Oh, if I could only go to
Europe, take care of my physique, and
study ! Heaven's will be done ! I must
not complain. It will all be made clear
one of these days.

Feb. fj. * I wonder if I shall ever
write anything to be proud of ? Life is
a curious puzzle to me.

Feb. 15. Notice in The Tribune of
my book. ( Pen Photographs of Charles
Dickens.] Calls me "brilliant," and my
pen "facile." No compliment, because
everybody is called brilliant and facile
nowadays.

So the days of this busy woman passed
without rest or recreation. It might al-
most be said that she had not sufficient
encouragement to reward her for the
effort she was continually making to
better the world and aid her fellow-men

and women. She was unselfish — as
those who are in need of help are very
apt to be. She was extremely sensitive;
grateful for little kindnesses; often dis-
couraged — but brave as a lion. She
says in her Diary:

Feb. 24. Awful day. As blue as any
indigo. Couldn't fix my mind on any-
thing. Began Lockhart's Life of Scott.

Feb. 25. Saw Norma in evening.

Feb. 26. Lippincott will give me three
or four pages, and $25 for my Kemble
article. Shan't have it.

Feb. 27. * Dickens praises my Pen
Photographs very warmly. * * De-
lighted that he is pleased.

March 2. Heard Fanny Kemble read

Coriolanus.

March j. Mrs. Kemble in Midsummer
Nighfs Dream. * Voice beautifully
musical in some of the poems.

March 6. Forney's Press ( Philadel-
phia) gives me more than a column of
praise. Amende honorable ! Called on
Mrs. Kelley, ( an impoverished actress )
gave her $10 to pay her rent. They say
she makes desperate efforts to get down
on her knees and pray for me, but she
fails from physical inability. Poor
woman ! and I have done so little.

March 15. * Wish I could travel.

Hers was a restless life and full of
longing. She was coming in touch with
everybody of importance and fixing an
impression of them in her Diary with a
word or two. Of Osgood, the Boston
publisher, whom everybody loved and
trusted, she said:

I like Mr. Osgood. He is true, manly
and considerate. * * Col. Thomas
Wentworth Higginson writes to In-
dependent that I have " extraordinary
talents." Hurrah ! I'll try and do some-
thing. * * New Orleans Crescent
says my book is an insidious attempt to
injure the genius of Dickens. De gusti-
bus. * * Visit to State's Prison. In-
tensely interesting. Shall make article
out of it, I hope. The warden polite.
* * Again at Dickens reading. The
finest audience I ever felt. * * Pre-
sented to him after reading. Said he
was delighted to make my acquaintance.
I replied that I owed him so heavy a

364

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

debt that I never should be able to pay
the interest.

"Then I will give you a receipt in
full," he replied.

Her admiration of Dickens amounted
to a mania: Here follows the syllabus
of her lecture on the man and his work:

Dickens, the Actor ; Dickens, the Drama-
tist; Dickens, the Journalist — the A'ovelist

— the Merrymaker — the Walker — the
Friend— the Letter- Writer; Dickens' House-
hold Words — His Fancies — His Style;
Dickens, the Poet; Dickens'" Children; His
Animals — His Women — His Christianity

— His Home at Gad's Hill; Peroration;
Dickens' Grave in Westminster Abbey.

In her Diary she says:

Mav 23. Beautiful day; first taste of
Spring. Went to capitol. Not capti-
vated by my first glimpse of Washing-
ton. Saw congress assembled ; a clever
looking body of men.

May 24. Drove out to General Lee's
house, Arlington Heights. Evening at
Senator Pomeroy's. Met Stanton, Butler
( a sharp, clever lawyer), General How-
ard ( good ) , Colfax ( an amiable poli-
tician), Senator Wilson and others.

May 23. Went to capitol. Heard
Grossbeck. No orator and I could not
endure the atmosphere. Met Anthony
Trollope. Same as ever. Interviews
with General Banks, Spofford and Still-
son. Latter took me over building and
to Vinnie Ream's studio. Trollope
called in evening. Met Chief Justice
Chase, a fine looking man.

May 27. Visited the White House;
like a big hotel; then to treasury;
Spinner very polite. * Charming visit
at Charles Summer's house; he was very
cordial, etc.

May 28. Anthony Trollope called and
went with us to the capitol. Williams
finished and Evarts began his speech
after skirmish between Butler and
Nelson. Took my last breath of capitol
air. The Spoffords and Mary Clemmer
Ames called. Left for New York in
night train. Not one wink of sleep.
Sleeping cars, are they ?

HIS was Kate Field's first visit to the
city that was to become more like

home to her than any other place in the
world. It was in 1868, -when she was in
her thirtieth year.

Every moment of her life was more or
less eventful. She was never at rest.
Upon first meeting Mr. W. D. Howells
she writes that the young poet, not yet
established as the American novelist,
"is very sweet in disposition and so
sympathetic." Thirty - odd years of
happy successes have only intensified
these charming characteristics.

Before her life was half spent Kate
Field was weary of it. She did not
weary of well-doing; she attempted to
do more than her frail physique was
equal to. She was worn out, and in a
good cause; and not one only, but many
of them. She was born in St. Louis,
only daughter of Joseph M. and Eliza
Riddle Field, once well known members
of the dramatic profession. She received
her early education in Boston, Massa-
chusetts; but at the age of sixteen was
taken to Florence, Italy, where for five
years, under the care of Miss Iza Blag-
den — poet and novelist and most inti-
mate friend of Elizabeth Barrett Brown-
ing — she was the favorite of a circle of
celebraties that could not be duplicated
in this day and generation. She lived
with Miss Blagden in the Villa Bellos-
grande, on the heights where the Haw-
thornes once lived. She was often the
guest of the Brownings at Casa Guidi.
She studied music under Garcia; Walter
Savage Landor taught her Latin; the
Trollopes were her neighbors; George
Eliot and Mr. Lewes took the deepest
interest in her development. Was ever
"Sweet Sixteen" in a more enviable
environment? And she had brains to
back it. Later in life Kate Field entered
the charmed circle in London and
in Paris; but the Florentine aroma
ever hovered near her; she was the
product of the highest culture and refine
ment.

In 1869, January 5th. , Kate Field wrote
in her Diary:

KATE FIELD, COSMOPOLITE

365

I'm just as down-hearted as I can be,
but nobody knows it. I feel as Mrs.
Browning felt when she wrote that pa-
thetic poem, "My Heart and I."

"How tired we are — my heart and I —
We seem of no use in the world."

What a game life is ! And is it worth
the candle? When I'm alone, —

"/ am the doubter and the doubt."

Father, be near and help me. Let me
be useful if I cannot be happy. To ex-
pect recognition or happiness is folly.
I have many who call themselves friends,
but — oh, I wish not for much, but more
than I shall ever get. This is my cross.
I must learn to bear it without murmur-
ing. Amen.

There was in her life a heart tragedy
the secret of which she never confided
to the world. But the memory of this
was not all that overshadowed her .spirit
at times. She probably was never quite
satisfied with any of her achievements.
She aimed high; she believed, or she
feared, that she had never hit the mark.

She had written, in a moment of en-
thusiasm, some verses to Charlotte
Cushman: she had shown them to her
friends; they were published; then she
anxiously awaited the several verdicts
that were rendered. The reader can
judge of her state of mind when she thus
unbosoms herself in her journal:

Miss Cushman tells Mrs. Mears that
the verses are very clever indeed; the Ga-
zette publishes them ; Lincoln Emerson,
a finely educated man and teacher, says
they are good; Mr. Spofford, I hear,
acknowledges something approving; I
hear something else. What am I to
infer? That they are trash, or good
enough for me to try again? "Alas! poor
Yorick ! " I will persevere in spite of
everything, and wait for time to bring
approval. I cannot think that I have
all this desire for authorship, all this
love for it, and yet no glimmering of
talent. I should be perfectly miserable
if I thought that I could never write. I
can better bear the thought that I can
never sing, and this makes me think that
I can or will write better than I can sing.
After all I prefer the fame of an author.
The singer or actor, if successful, reaps

golden harvests, is feted for the time be-
ing; but death knocks at the door and
drives away friends, fame, all. No
sooner dead than forgotten. A few re-
member the genius ; but the next genera-
tion know of no such person, save that
the Cyclopedia devoted a few lines to her,
and some author may refer to her as
having been great. How fleeting, how
sad, is such fame! But the author, how
different! He makes not a fortune, per-
haps, his life may not be so great a tri-
umph ; but his brain work is strewn all
over the world, he is everybody's friend
and companion, everybody loves him, he
is a universal benefactor ; and death, in-
stead of ending his career of good, grad-
ually increases it, until his name becomes
most sacred. No fame is so lasting as
that of a great author. Marble crumbles,
canvas defaces, the voice is hushed,
action still, but thought is eternal ; books
must be renewed. Viewing it in this
light, there can be but one choice ; but
if I could be both, this is what I long for.
Are the two incompatible? I think they
minister one to another. And then it
must be so glorious to inspire thousands
of people instantaneously with the same
feelings by which you are excited ; to
sway so many human beings by a power
superior to them. Oh, it must be sweet
to taste, and delightful as it is fleeting !
If I must make a choice, it will be for
authorship — that is, if I have the neces-
sary materials to work with. I wonder
what the future will bring forth. It is
well perhaps that I cannot read it.

On the evening of November 14, 1874,
in Booth's Theater, New York, Kate
Field made her first appearance on the
stage as Peg Woffington in the popular
play of that name. The house was
packed from pit to dome with a brilliant
and enthusiastic audience and the de-
butante was buried alive in flowers. She
seemed at last, in her thirty-sixth year,
to have achieved the triumph which she
had ever longed for. Congratulatory
notes from her literary and artistic
friends were showered upon her. It was
her golden hour — but an hour only. The
theater was closed for the season after
the second night. Her friend Lilian
Whiting believes that her failure to please
the public — her friends were, of course,

366

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

full of hope and cheer— was her inability
to act as was then the fashion of English
and American actors; with her there was
no posturing or mouthing; she was
naturalness itself. The play-goers of
this country had not yet been schooled
in art so refined. Kate Field, herself,
believed she should have been placed on
the stage at the age of fifteen and allowed
to develop there. Though she had failed
to create a favorable impression among
habitual play-goers she was on the stage
in America and England the greater por-
tion of the seasons of 1874-5 to 1878.
She was supported in the leading roles
by Mr. Eben Plympton and other actors
of reputation and for a time played
Laura Hawkins to the Colonel Sellers of
John T. Raymond, in Mark Twain's
"Gilded Age."

She appeared in her own comediettas,
"The Opera Box" and " Extremes Meet."
London critics spoke of her beautiful
singing both in English and French;
and one added: "She produces her voice
in a pure, lark-like and thrilling manner,
and excels particularly in expression;
and by nuances of phrasing adds to, or
illustrates, the beauty of really fine
passages. She is a pupil of Manuel
Garcia, Malibran's brother, who predicts
for her a brilliant future on the stage."

O! the fallibility of prophecy! She was
praised for her graceful and sprightly
dancing and for the distinguished air
with which she wore her beautiful gowns.
She was ever a smart dresser.

COR years her services were in demand
in the Lyceum circuit that had then
lapped from sea to sea. She had a relish
for every palate; even the epicurean
could not complain. She lectured on
"America for Americans," "Despised
Alaska," "Charles Dickens," "Mor-
monism, Past and Present" and "The
Intemperance of Prohibition." In the
last lecture she pricked the toy balloons
of the fanatical reformers and teetotalism

toppled in its tracks. The New York
Press said of her, in a notice of this
lecture: "It is always safe to trust Kate
Field's rare endowment of common sense
— which Guizot rightly calls the genius
of humanity — her purity of purpose
and moral heroism. In this age, not
lacking superficiality and shams, it is
good to know of a representative woman
in whose theories and practice there may
be felt such entire confidence; whose
ideals are not the effervescent emotions
of the sensational reformer, but are,
rather, serene and steadfast, because they
are based on practicable methods, clear
intellectual insight, and noble motives."
Kate Field's voice, and her use of it,
were very greatly admired. She has
said:

I am often asked "who taught you
elocution?" as though good English
and distinct enunciation were the result
of much work and more money. If
there is one word more repelling than
all others to an actor, or to the descen-
dant of actors, it is the word "elocution."
And the methods by which so-called
elocution is attained are equally obnox-
ious. It is saying a good deal, but,
probably, outside of patent medicines,
there is no humbug so great as character-
izes nine-tenths of elocutionary teaching.
Men and women, utterly incapable of
speaking one sentence naturally, under-
take to make public speakers. With
what result? Pulpit, bar, rostrum and
stage teem with speakers who mouth,
orate, tear a passion to tatters, but never
hold the mirror up to nature. It is a
grievous evil. That elocution can be
taught scientifically I have no doubt,
but I know that most teachers are to be
shunned as you would shun the plague.

I believe most emphatically in blood.
Both my father and mother were actors,
belonging to what today is called the
natural school. I owe to Charles Dick-
ens, Charles Fichter and Adelaide Ris-
tori lessons in the only art of speaking
— nature. Listening, when very young,
to those great artists, night after night,
was equal to a liberal education. Insen-
sibly, but not the less surely, they pro-
duced a great effect upon me. "Be nat-
ural, be natural, be natural," was the
only rule laid down by my dear mother,

KATE FIELD, COSMOPOLITE

367

whose speaking voice was music.

I was taught to sing and of course
this instruction has been of great benefit
to me in speaking. My masters have
been the greatest in Europe and I think
of them with profound respect.

If you can only make speakers under-
stand that it is distinctness of enunciation
and not shouting that is needed in order
to be heard, you will be a benefactor.
Whenever I go into a large hall or thea-
ter, I speak not louder but more slowly,
so that one word may reach distant ears
before another is spoken. For this
reason my lectures are ten or fifteen
minutes longer in one place than in an-
other. The two most delightful places
in which I have spoken are the Mormon
theater at Salt Lake City and the Phil-
adelphia Academy of Music, both the
result of — accident!

As I think of her now it seems to me
that Kate Field could have never known
a really idle moment in her life. If her
body was in repose, her mind was active
and her brain was busy with one or an-
other of the many plans she was evolv-
ing and usually deeply concerned in.
Like a trained juggler, with her two
hands filled, she could still keep half a
dozen projects revolving in the air; nor
was any one of them suffered to lie idle,
or slip behind its fellow: had this hap-
pened the whole would have ended in
calamity and the juggler sought retire-
ment in confusion. It does not follow
that she was not attempting to do too
much. I think no one who knew her
well was in the least surprised when, on
New Year's day, 1890, she issued the
initial number of "Kate Field's Wash-
ington," the greater part of which
was filled with contributions from her
own pen. In its first issue she de-
clared her creed and she stood loyally
by it during the five years of the
paper's brilliant but financially unprofit-
able .existence:

KATE FIELD'S "CREDO"

I believe in Washington as the hub
of a great nation.

I believe that the capital of a republic

of sixty millions (1890) of human beings
is the locality for a review knowing no
sectional prejudices and loving truth
better than party.

I believe that "men and women are
eternally equal and eternally different;"
hence I believe there is a fair field in
Washington for a national weekly edited
by a woman.

I believe in home industries ; in a re-
duced tariff ; in civil service reform ; in
extending our commerce ; in American
shipping ; in strengthening our army and
navy; in temperance which does not
mean enforcing total abstinence on one's
neighbor; in personal liberty.

I believe in literature, art, science,
music and the drama, as handmaids of
civilization.

I believe society should be the best
expression of humanity.

I believe in a religion of deeds.

"Kate Field's Washington" was back-
ed by friendly financiers; its columns
were contributed to by distinguished
members of various professions; to read
her interviews with all sorts and condi-
tions of men and women was like having
the two ends of a telephone at one's own
ears. The department called "The
Players" was most diverting, and some-
times a player would write his own inter-
view, which is perhaps, all things consid-
ered, the most satisfactory of all the
modern methods employed in this line of
journalism.

IT was while Kate Field was publishing
her Washington and making her home
in the sky-parlors of the Shoreham, that
I first met her. Our fellowship was
spontaneous: I cannot imagine her
standing upon ceremony with anyone
of whom she knew anything whatever.
She was too much of a cosmopolite for
that. Frank D. Millet, the artist-author,
was her dear friend and mine and he
first brought us together at my rooms in
the Catholic University. Our friendship
seemed to have been without beginning,
and it is surely to be without end: So
she very shortly wrote me.

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

Dear Mr. Poet : If it doesn't rain, Mrs.
McPherson (wife of the New Jersey
senator) and I are coming to see you
tomorrow (Monday) afternoon. If it
rains, look out for us on Wednesday.

K. F.

Of course our little visit was a jolly
one. She seemed always to be at con-
cert pitch when people were present.
When I went to visit her at the Shore-
ham, I found her rooms a very nest of
literary wares. It was a work-shop, not
a place of rest. It was a hurly-burly with
a weary woman in the midst thereof.
There was a piano — a concert-grand —
her pride and joy and consolation; one
had to wend his way to it between chairs
and tabourettes laden with heaps of man-
uscripts and exchanges. In that highly
attractive den there was hardly a place
where one might venture to seat himself,
even if urged to do so by the hostess
who paused for a moment to give a
kindly welcome. From the windows the
eye soared over the treetops and saw
that most impressive of all memorials,
the Washington Monument, sublime in
its simplicity, with perhaps a low-hang-
ing cloud trailing across the summit;
and beyond it Arlington Heights, with
the Potomac ebbing and flowing at its
feet. It was most alluring, that glimpse
of the Virginia hills from her sanctum,
but I doubt if she often paused to dwell
upon it with her tired eyes. And yet
this is the woman who said :

It seems to me that one of the greatest
delights of life to a thinking mind must
be a study, — a room religiously your
own, the open sesame of which is a
charm to be broken by none else; a
sanctuary to which you retire to ponder,
weep, write, read, pray, knowing that
there you may indulge your feelings as
the emotions and passions dictate, and
no one will dare intrude — no one will
scrutinize you, save the all-wise, omni-
present God. For such a retreat have I
ever sighed. * * When at home I
like to be alone, to collect my thoughts,
to read and write. The presence of an-
other person renders me so nervous that
I am almost ready to fly ; it grates so

upon my feelings that I am completely
upset and can do nothing. The more I
attempt to fight off these feelings the
fiercer is the battle, and I at length have
decided that I am constituted thus,
that it is entirely useless to "kick against^
the pricks." What person is there that
does not sometimes desire to shut the
door upon all the world?

She never did, to my knowledge.
From a package of notelets before me,
addressed to me, I clip a line here and
there :

When did you become so coy ? You
know you are always welcome. *

Will you belong and come in and
howl for free art? *

Hope you are enjoying yourself — I
am not. Good weather for ducks. *

I am still rioting in dust and dismay —
but come in and dine on Wednesday. *

Dear Recluse, does it ever occur to you
that I am within visiting distance? *

Such notes as these flew from her pen
like shot from a Catling gun.

The Shoreham, Dec. 28, '91. Well,
here we are again! just arrived. Will
you dine with me on Dec. 3ist, at 7
o'clock? I may start for Frisco next
week to be absent nearly a month. Say
yes, and come in your store clothes.

K. F.

I had called to tell her that 1
could not dine with her on New
Year's Eve but she was absent: This
followed :

The Shoreham, 3oth Dec., '91. You
dreadful man ! Not hearing from you I
assumed that you had gone away for the
holidays and accepted a business dinner
engagement at six ! But I'll be back at
8:30 ( New Year's eve) so come at nine
and we'll have supper later, and I'll ask
Mr. Graham. There is to be a dance at
9:30 in the house and we can help that
along a bit. Telephone me that it's all
right and you'll come and forgive me for
your neglect of my note until the
eleventh hour. Sincerely, K. F.

She was interested in every question
before the public, almost as much in-
terested as if it concerned herself. So
she wrote:

KATE FIELD, COSMOPOLITE

369

June 9, 1891. I want to see you very
much. I've a hard nut I want you to help
me crack. When can you come and dine
of an evening? Hastily, K. F.

Before I could reply, this followed:

* * I want to know what liberal
Catholics think about that attempt to
keep nations intact inside of this repub-
lic and have them taught their own lan-
guage by their own priests. It seems to
me outrageous and I intend to say so.
Shall I have any support among Catho-
lics? Pope Leo makes an awful mis-
take. God's vicegerent ought to know
better. Sincerely, KATE FIELD.

I don't remember what happened in
consequence of this sad state of affairs,
but a few days later I received the
following :

So glad you are loafing and inviting
your soul — well, I'm so plunged in this
world's moils I don't know whether there
is anything of me for the next. Enjoy
yourself.

She had very much at heart the ques-
tion of free art, and was deeply interested
in the Art Loan Exhibit in Washington,
1892. Heaven knows how many letters
like the following she wrote in behalf of
each :

DEAR POET: You are elected and
you are to come in on Thursday to be at
the Shoreham at 10 a. m. There, in the
banquet hall of the hotel, you will meet
your old chum Frank D. Millet and
others and we'll all go together to the
Convention at 10:30. The White House
follows the Loan Exhibit and the Cor-
coran Gallery receives in the evening
with Vice President and Mrs. Morton.
Tell Archbishop Keane and Bishop
O'Gorman to come also. I shall read a
letter from Cardinal Gibbons. Say you'll
come. You can be useful as well as
entertaining. Sincerely KATE FIELD.

A few days later :

DEAR SAVAGE, will you dine with me
on Tuesday next and meet a few friends.
Please telegraph. Stay all night at the
Shoreham and be my guest.

Every little while she was away on
business. She wrote from Minneapolis:

DEAR MR. POET, — Where am I ?
Fifteen hundred miles away 1 Read K.
F.'s W. and you'll get a tolerable idea of
my eccentric orbit. I went from Wash-
ington the first week in August to Long
Beach, L. I., where I remained a month ;
and then went to St. Louis in a private
car. Thence to this place where I am
visiting Senator and Mrs. Washburn.
Next week I go to Sioux City, Iowa, to
lecture on "The Intemperance of Pro-
hibition" and to see the Corn Palace.
After that more lectures and more travel.
When I return no fellow can find out
but I'll let you know of course, and
gladly shake hands. I'll help that friend
you wrote about if I can.

Sincerely, KATE FIELD.

She was always helping somebody and
did a vast amount of good that her
neighbors never knew of. To a stranger,
one of the numberless, who had written
to Kate Field complaining of her own
weary life and comparing it with the life
she believed Kate to be leading, went
this reproof:

If you knew how over-burdened my
life has been from childhood, you would
have more charity for those who are
apparently successful, and would dis-
cover that yours is not the worst fate in
the world. I contend that we must all
bear our burdens cheerfully without
complaint, and do the best we can under
the circumstances. I have not one mo-
ment to spare.

I had written her suggesting that
among her unique interviews she include
t>ne with the apostolic delegate. It was
some time before I heard from her and
then she wrote from Johnstown, New
York:

Yes, that is where I am. Your letter
arrived as I was about to depart on a
ten days lecturing trip, which will ac-
count for my masterly inactivity. By
the time I get back (D. V.) the inaugura-
tion will fill my alleged mind and not be-
fore March 7th can I think of an apos-
tolic delegate. By that time he will have
hied him to fresh Fields unprefixed by
Kate. If not, I will consider your ornate
proposition. As I'm built on the Doric
plan of architecture I don't take kindly
to your Corinthian furbelows, but we'll

370

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

see. Such an intricate game requires
not one candle but a dynamo.

Too bad you are still unwell. If you
lived more in harmony with your nature,
you'd be better, but it's useless to
wrestle with such a distorted being as
you are.

Know that I have your South Sea Idyls
with me and I subscribe to Howells'
praise. Your sketches are charming and
unaffected and ought to sell, saving that
they are too good and you are not the
fashion. If I had a salon and were rich,
I'd make Washington run after you, but
I'm a woman without a purse, a much
less reputable creature than a man with-
out a country. I might have had the
purse but the price was too high. It
cost self-respect. People who live poetry
are more poetical than those who write
it. They pay the penalty of poverty and
misunderstanding — which serves them
right for not floating with the current.
Rowing up stream may develop muscle,
but it's hard on EH, if he wants to " get
there."

Eat beef and drink a pint of hot water
one hour before every meal. Stop smok-
ing cigarettes and limit yourself to three
cigars a day after meals.

Of course you won't. Sincerely,

KATE FIELD.

The letter contained some newspaper
clippings and this postscript :

Here are a few jokes between splic-
ings of the main brace. K. F.

I had written for Kate Field's Wash-
ington two articles on Robert Louis
Stevenson: they are now included in
a volume of my sketches entitled "Exits
and Entrances." She wrote me:

Feb. 14, '95. DEAR VALENTINE:
Your papers are delightful and are worth
$250. That's what I wish I could send
you. I feel very proud to publish'so
charming a glimpse of a great man. You
are entitled to all the papers you want
at any time and orders are so given at
the office. The Stevenson articles are
most valuable and I only wish I could
make it worth your while to be a con-
stant contributor.

I live in hope.

I've heard so much praise of your arti-
cles on Robert Louis Stevenson it makes
me ache to have money enough to ask

you to become a regular contributor.
O ! why have I been cheated out of my
fortune ?

Discipline can go too far.

Later, in another letter, she added :

I have written to Mr. Kohlsatt of the
Chicago Times-Herald about you. I
told him that you were unique, and that,
if I had money, I should give you a
mighty good salary as a regular corres-
pondent.

All this was voluntary on her -part;
she was always trying to help others.
In June '95, she wrote:

DEAR POET: I have mislaid your letter
sent to me when I was in Newport con-
testing a will. Jury disagreed, of course,
because my claim was righteous. My
cousin refuses to join me in a second
trial and I am forced thereby to let
crime triumph.

Such is life !

I am packing up to go to Chicago and
thence to Hawaii. Won't you come and
see me before I leave? If not at the
Shoreham I'll be at this office. If you'll
dine with me on Sunday without cere-
mony at 7 p. m. so much the better.

With all good wishes. Ever yours

Sincerely, KATE FIELD.

Can you give me letters or suggestions
for Hawaii?

On one occasion, being puzzled con-
cerning the genus to which a new ac-
quaintance belonged, I wrote, perhaps
ingenuously, to ask if my friend could
classify her for me. She at once repliec1 :

DEAR TWO-YEAR-OLD: It is the very
woman ! I know her. C-A-T ! — is the
recollection. Beware! K. FIELD.

The last letter I received from her was
written at Salt Lake City. She had
taken the deepest interest in everything
relating to John Brown of Harper's Ferry:
had written me something, or said some-
thing to me which, apparently, I had
misunderstood. I forget just what it
was. but in this last letter to me she
wrote as follows :

Salt Lake City, Utah, Oct. 28th, 1895.
DEAR SAVAGE: I never dreamed of

KATE FIELD, COSMOPOLITE

your helping the John Brown fort.
Don't you suppose I know how many
uses you have for your hard-earned
salary? All I meant was, could you sug-
gest anything ? I have raised almost all
the money, and the fort is now going up
at Harper's Ferry. I wish that you could
take a Sunday off and go up there and
see what is being done and tell me what
you think of the situation.

If you can, if you will call at the B.
and O. ticket office and ask for the
gen'l pass'gr ag't, who is very nice and
very good-looking : and show him this
letter and tell him who you are, I am
sure he will give you a pass both ways.
If you have not visited Harper's Ferry,
you ought, for it is one of the loveliest
spots in the United States.

Owing to the report of cholera I have
been detained in Salt Lake City, and I
look upon it as fate, for the most crucial
period of history in this territory has
arrived. I am doing what I can to pre-
vent statehood, but I shall not succeed,
for both parties are playing into the
hands of the Mormons and will vote for
it on the 5th of November.

Immediately after the election I go to
San Francisco, where I shall stop a few
days at the Occidental and there go on
to Honolulu. Mr. Thurston has invited
me to visit him, but I think that I ought
not to commit myself to either party in
the beginning. Will the Honolulu Hotel
be good quarters, and have they means
there of keeping away mosquitoes? I
absolutely dread those beasts.

Hoping that the world is treating you
as well as it can under the circumstances,
believe me, Ever sincerely,

KATE FIELD

HERE ended our correspondence. Her
life in Hawaii, a brief half-year in
length, ended abruptly in a death which
might almost be called suicidal. She
would travel and she would work when
all the while she should have been rest-
ing. Her friend and companion, Miss
Anna Paris, who was with her at the last,
wrote: "Oh! the pathos of it all, the
lonely coast, the eager, burning desire to
see everything, the struggle for strength,
the final enforced giving up of her effort
— she gave herself no rest." If you would
know the pitiful surrender of that strong

soul, read Lilian Whiting's 'Kate Field:
A Record.' I need not detail it here.

She died on the igth of May, 1896, in
the fifty-seventh year of her age. She
once said: "I want to live every day as
if it were my last," she also said: "I am
a cremationist, because I believe crema-
tion is not only the healthiest and clean-
est, but the most poetical way of dispos-
ing of the dead. Whoever prefers loath-
some worms to ashes, possesses a strange
imagination." Therefore was she crema-
ted; and her inurned ashes rest in the
sunniest corner of Mount Auburn ceme-
tery beside those of her parents and her
brother.

Someone asked leave to include Kate
Field in a series of sketches called
"Women of Today." She declared: "If
I am anything I anr a woman of to-
morrow." She was a woman and a
worker for any and every day!

She put this on record: "I sometimes
think it is a great misfortune that I was
not born a boy, for then any and every
employment would be open .to me, and I
could gain sufficient to support my
mother and self."

And this:

Oh, if I were a man ! I pity myself, in-
deed, I do. There is not an ambition, a
desire, a feeling, a thought, an impulse,
an instinct that I am not obliged to crush.
And why? because I am a woman, and
a woman must content herself with in-
door life, with sewing and babies. Well,
they pretend to say that God intended
women to be just what they are. I say
that He did not, that men have made
women what they are, and if they at-
tribute their doings to the Almighty,
they lie. The time will come, but my
grave will be many centuries old. * *
Well, excelsior, time will work a cure for
all things but the heart-ache.

In another mood she wrote:

You are mistaken when you think I
can take care of myself. I don't like to ;
I want someone to love me, to take an
interest in me, someone to whom I can
say, "What do you think?" someone to
kiss and tease and scold me.

372

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

It is interesting to know what this con-
firmed bachelor -maid thought of the
marriage state. To her aunt she wrote :

You say your only ambition for me is
to see me well married. Do you think
that so easy? I've had several escapes
from matrimony, for which I thank God.
A life of ambition is a terrible grind, you
say. And how about most marriages?
Are not they terrible grinds? Do you re-
alize what would happen if I married
and made a mistake? I do. I believe
in love. I don't believe in being tied to
a man whom I cease to love. Therefore
the less said to me about marriage the
better. If I marry, there's no knowing
the misery in store for me, so don't think
that the panacea. My observation
makes me afraid of lifelong experiments.

On another occasion she said: "Mar-
riage is a panacea — very good when
right — terrible when wrong. I have
escaped several probabilities of misery,
and am to be congratulated." And yet
again :

In this free and easy country men and
women marry early and often, for the
reason that they can be very much mar-
ried in some states and not at all in
others, while few precautions are taken
against fraud. Were marriage made
more difficult, there would be fewer un-
happy households. Then divorces would
be less frequent, and special legislation,
which is always dangerous, would be un-
necessary. What this Republic needs
is a national marriage law.

Kate Field was of Catholic parentage
and was baptized a Catholic. She had
what Miss Whiting has called the "in-
spirational temperament." Miss Field
once wrote to a friend :

As to being helped in writing, I'm al-
most sure of it. I never know in advance

what I'm going to say. In fact, I ap-
proach every subject in fear and trembl-
ing, and am always astonished when any-
thing comes. Inspiration means some-
thing or nothing. If it means something,
it means that a spiritual influence ob-
sesses the mortal intellect. It always
seems to me idiotic for people to be con-
ceited about their own achievements,
when so much is due to unknown influ-
ences.

I wonder hew many facile, fluent
writers there are who will question that?

Kate Field never whined, but she was
at last forced to confess: "The fact is, I
have been overworked all my life." She
said: "It is hard to live, — harder than to
die, I think;" and once more: "I have
no patience with those who nurse their
grief and prove their faith in Christianity
by acting as though there were no life
or hope beyond mortality."

The dying woman, the victim of her
unflagging zeal and a spirit that defied
defeat, was brought from Hawaii to
Honolulu on one of the inter-island
steamers. Lilian Whiting has said in
her story of Kate Field's life, when re-
counting the fleeting moments of those
last sad hours:

" With her in her state-room and
lying by her side, was a copy of Charles
Warren Stoddard's "Hawaiian Life: or
Lazy Letters from Low Latitudes," —
the last book her hand ever touched.
Afterward Miss Paris very kindly gave
the little volume to the friend who, of
all on earth, held Kate in the most ten-
der and devoted love." The reader of
sensibility will easily imagine my emo-
tion when Miss Whiting, in her study at
The Brunswick in Boston, placed, for a
moment, that volume in my hands.

lilHAT do you suppose I would intimate to you in a hundred ways, but that man or woman

is as good as God ?

And that there is no God any more divine than Yourself ?
And that that is what the oldest and newest myths finally mean? -
And that you or anyone must approach Creations through such laws ?

— Walt Whitman, "Laws for Creations.1"

AMERICAN SPIRIT

By Jasper Barnett Cowdin

NO wonder, bards, we lag on tiring wjng,
And fancy lies a mud-bespattered bird!
This Yankee spirit is the swiftest thing

Old earth has seen or drowsy nations heard.

Before its onset fall our lyric themes:

The lawless loves of satyr and of faun,

Our empty longings and our shopworn dreams —
Where is their romance in this magic dawn?

This daring spirit spins its shining threads
Along unpeopled prairies; boldly throws

A web across the canyoned river beds;

Nor daunted, pushes past eternal snows —

374 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

Unbars a passage through forbidding towers,
And shakes a saucy finger at the steeps;

Then down through bowery maze of vines and flowers —
Down where the broadly blue Pacific sleeps.

Step in the wheel-borne palace and away!

Though luxury and comfort be complete;
Already is Invention turning gray

To make the rushing marvel obsolete.

Speed on for days in your delightful train,

And note how wizard Irrigation pours
A glassy consolation o'er the plain,

Where hosts of trees bend with their luscious stores.

Before Amazement opens wide her eyes,

Where yestermorn the coyote loped his way,

The desert greens into a paradise,

And cities spring to birth in one brief day.

Here once the lonely prairie schooner crept;

Here once the homesick miner's shack appeared;
Beneath the vacant sands an empire slept;

Next morn a granite savings bank uprearedl

From nothingness a Babel gathered sound;

The sturdy pioneers endured their ills.
Prosperity now softens all the ground;

Clean cities lift their whiteness to the hills.

Why should this people hearken to a crow,

While all the blue's alive with tuneful beaks?

The air's a song! They lift their eyes, and so
Drink in the purple joy of distant peaks.

Here active youth is made the overlord,

Nor maiden leadership e'er deemed a sin;

Strong are their hearts, and failure is a word
That merely means some other way will win.

THE AMERICAN SPIRIT 375

They can adapt themselves to any view,

And win success in spite of ill mischance;
The secret lies in knowing what to do,

Poised on the sudden edge of circumstance.

To guard their rights alert as any scout,

A broad equality of purpose rings,
True to the Constitution, in and out —

The bootblack's pride doth match the railway king's.

This spirit laughs a challenge in the face
Of custom and tradition; dares to meet

The strength of any continent or race:

By right they boast who never knew defeat.

Ho, poets! bowing still at ancient shrines,

Dead are the oracles to whom ye pray.
Let the new spirit vivify your lines;

Though far in ebb of it — up and away I

By Edwin Carlile Litsey

Author of "The Love Story of Abnejr Stone"

LEBANON, KENTUCKY

THE GLAD HOUR

IVY LODGE lay drowsily content in its verdant nest. The Summer day had been
a flitting masque of light and shadow. From earliest morning, when the shy buds
had opened in response to the love-touch of soft-fingered dawn, tiny streams of
perfume had rolled unceasingly from calyx and stamen; out over scarlet and blue
and crimson and white and yellow petals they had poured, mingling their many
odors into one great, encompassing sea of sweetness. This sea had expanded, for it
knew no confines and no barriers, and had surrounded, deluged, drugged the house,
the garden and the lawn. It had been a day of uninterrupted quiet. The sun had
shone warmly and generously; the feathered tenants had visited each other and had
chatted volubly in the shrubbery and in the trees. The humming bird, a shimmer-
ing line of irridescent flame, had darted from flower to flower, boldly thrusting its
tongue in the open doors where the sweets were stored. Some of the more timid
blossoms had closed up at midday, resenting the too ardent caresses of their celes-
tial lover. Throughout it all the old house slept, as with the memory of the blessed
days when it had owned a mistress. As twilight dropped down like a mothering
bird, and spread soft, hushed wings of scented shadow over the low roof, blessing

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 377

mutely the sorrow and the hope which abode beneath it, it seemed as though this
was an enchanted place, the product of some magician's wand.

Very slowly through the gathering dusk a solitary figure climbed the hill leading
down into town. The two years had bent old Roger Croft. He leaned forward
from the waist, and his shoulders had drawn closer together over his chest. His
hair was white and long; it hung in elfin ringlets about his ears and upon the collar
of his coat. His steps were short and the stick he carried bore a great deal of his
weight. Turning in at the gate, he walked half way up the gravelled path leading
to the front porch, then stopped and, removing his soft black hat, looked about him.
He was returning from his daily trip to the postoffice. Every day since that night
when he had sent his own flesh and blood from him — every day at this hour he had
gone and asked for a letter. Every day for two years he had come back up the hill
with a new pain in his heart. Today his kindly face was irradiated with a joy
beatific. In his left hand he held tightly an envelope, the first message from
his son! He stood for a few moments bareheaded, his heart welling over with
gratitude to the Giver who sends what is best in his own good time. "I have tried
to be patient, Lord!" he murmured; "I thank Thee!"

A few minutes later he lit his study lamp with hands palsied by excitement.
Adjusting his glasses with trembling fingers, he opened and read the letter. It was
rather long and was written with a faulty pencil, but with his shaking forefinger
guiding his eyes from word to succeeding word, Roger read the missive from one
end to the other. All alone, save with the deathless memories which the years only
served to bring closer and make dearer, he sat with the tip of his ringer resting
beneath the last word, "Daniel," and the tears ran down the furrows which time
had made for them. So still he sat, fearing to move lest the spell be broken and he
find that he had been dreaming. Scarcely did he dare to breathe, so overwhelming
was this news for which he had waited and prayed. Rising at last, slowly and with
effort, and taking the sheets of the letter with him, his feet moved to that sacred
inner room. Outside, the twilight was slowly deepening into dark. But in the
furthermost west the afterglow still shone, and toward this Roger Croft set his face
in silent prayer. By their window — hers and his — he knelt, and joining his hands
upon the window-ledge, he gave thanks from the fullness of a grateful heart. Then
he fell to talking in low, sweet tones. Ah ! how often had he talked to her since
she went away, in that secret, inner room set apart to the memory of her. He had
told her of his efforts, his trials, his failures, and when the climax of misfortune
came he had told her that, too. It was what made the day worth living — to come
to her at twilight. He told her that their boy — her son — was a man again ; that he
had been purified as by fire, and that soon he was coming home. And presently
through the window a star beamed forth, a sign of reassurance and of hope.

VII
THE STRENGTH OF THE SOIL

To Daniel, inured to toil and accustomed to constant action, the enforced idle-
ness of the next few days was irksome and depressing. It was poor employment
watching a sick man of low birth and brutal tendencies, who never thanked him for
his attentions and who was at all times surly and morose. Brewster accused Daniel
of taking his place away from him and throwing him out of work. Daniel promptly

378 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

freed his mind of this idea, and stated that it was his intention to leave just as soon
as the sufferer could get out. But the gulf between the two men remained too wide
for anything like comradeship, and Daniel stuck to his post because he had started
out to do so and because his ministrations were in part expiation. The long, hot
Summer days seemed endless. He had no books; he held himself in the back-
ground from choice, and his own mind just then gave but ineffectual consolation.

One day, shortly after dinner, the heat became so dreadful that he resolved to
go down to the river and swim. He started out with boyish haste, passing through
the garden, leaping over the rock fence at the bottom of it and going straight down
the hill to the lane. This was narrow and dusty, with strips of green growing up
to the fence on either side. To his right, ranks upon ranks of corn stretched as far
as his eye could see; tender ears were pushing out their heads at the bases of some
of the leaves. To his left was the field which he had so recently shorn of wheat.
At its further end he could see one stack up and another rising, while two wagons
hauled to the stacking place the shocks of golden sheaves. Crossing the mill-race
over a rustic bridge, a few more steps brought him to the brink of the river. It
was low rn its bed, for the dry season was on. From where he stood he might have
crossed by leaping from rock to rock. Setting his face up-stream, he moved on,
seeking some quiet, deep pool where the shade would protect him from the blister-
ing sun-rays. Presently he found one to his satisfaction, and removing his cloth-
ing yielded his body to the cool, caressing embrace of the water.

Actuated by a characteristic conceit, which apparently had no foundation and
no reason, Madeline Delford upon that same afternoon announced quite unex-
pectedly that she was going blackberrying, and asked her cousin, Miss Janet, to
accompany her. But Miss Janet refused peremptorily. She was afraid of snakes.
She had known people to get snake-bitten while picking berries, and she would not
go for anything in the world. Madeline appealed to her aunt. Mrs. Delford said
that there was no one on the place she could spare, but that the darkies had told
her there was a large patch just back of the barn, and her niece might go there
by herself, as it was within calling distance of the house. So Madeline, determined
and undismayed, arrayed herself in a poke sunbonnet and stout gloves, procured
a gallon tin bucket and a pint tin cup from the kitchen and sallied forth, casting
a sharp glance at the cottage as she passed it. Climbing the fence running parallel
.with the barn, she cast her eyes about for the blackberry patch. It was not in sight,
but farther down the hill she saw some rank bushes which appeared to be bearing
fruit. Thither she boldly bent her steps, and in a few moments found herself
encompassed by briars and busily picking away. It was a new experience to her
and was great fun. The insistent brambles laid hold of her sleeves and her skirt
with impudent clutch, leaving little rents in the fabric when she forcibly withdrew
her garments from their tenacious hold. But she did not mind this so long as she
got her berries. She had plenty of money with which to buy other frocks, and she
resolved to fill her pail before returning to the house. Neither did she see any
snakes. Occasionally a drunken bee would tumble from his banquet before her
fingers, or a slim red wasp would sail away as her hand approached his feast, but
nothing more formidable appeared. Time and again as she worked away she
would transfer a particularly ripe and tempting berry to her mouth instead of her
cup; but this was fair and natural, and if her lips were stained a deeper crimson it
did not matter.

When she had worked all through and around the patch, invading its spiked
recesses with intrepid hardihood, and mercilessly plundering the heavily laden

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 379

vines, she discovered all at once that the afternoon was far advanced and that her
bucket of berries was still an inch or two below the rim. She noted this fact with
dismay, because she wanted to bring it home brimming full and dropping over the
edge. Looking about perplexedly for other fields to conquer, she saw, in a fence
corner a few yards down in the lane, some bushes dotted with black specks. The
sun was still an hour high and she could fill her bucket in fifteen minutes. With
the sense that she was taking a little risk to add spice to her adventure, she
descended the hill. How delicious were the new berries! How large and plump
and juicy! From fence corner to fence corner she went, plucking feverishly and
going further and further down the lane. Then suddenly, by that sixth sense which
as yet has no name, she knew that she was in danger. There had been.no sound,
no warning, no intimation of any kind, but through all her being there had run
a swift, subtle shock. Withdrawing from the fence corner quietly, Madeline looked
first down the lane. There was no living thing in sight. Naturally she turned her
eyes in the contrary direction, and she dropped her bucket and gave a short, sharp,
involuntary scream of fright at what she saw. A large dog was trotting down the
lane. That in itself would not have caused her alarm, for she knew and loved the
dogs at the farm, and they were all her friends. But this brute was mad, rabid.
Foamy froth dropped from his gnashing jaws; he would snap viciously at the very
weeds as he^went by them, and once he turned and bit himself with a terrible snarl.

When Madeline saw all this she screamed and stood still, horror-stricken. She
had heard that to be bitten by a mad dog was to die a most painful death, but her
feet were rooted to the sod upon which she stood. Fright had simply paralyzed her.
She strove to run — to cry out again, but she could neither move nor speak. And
every moment that ugly, loathsome shape was coming closer. She was standing
immediately in its path and it could not pass without going around her. Suddenly
she heard rapid footsteps behind her, and the sound restored her volition and gave
her courage. Turning her head, she beheld the form of the new overseer sprinting
along the narrow path in the center of the lane as though he was competing for the
championship in a quarter-mile dash. He was still some distance off; the dog was
twice as near. But the man, with his arms to his-sides and his head and body
thrust forward was running ten feet to the dog's two. And all this was indeed well
for the girl. Just before he reached her the man stopped quickly, picked up a piece
of rail, then took his stand between her and the oncoming terror without a word, his
impromptu weapon drawn over his shoulder, ready to strike. Madeline moved back
a few paces and steadied herself on a projecting corner of the fence. With eyes
wide apart from doubt and fear, and two delicate lines drawn from the corners of
her nostrils to the corner of her mouth, she waited for the impending conflict, mur-
muring over and over again a simple prayer for the safety of her protector.

The rabid brute came swinging on with his easy trot, a truly terrible foe to face
almost empty-handed. Six feet from the figure in his path he stopped, lowered his
head, and glared forth hate and guile with his red-rimmed eyes. Then he gnashed
his jaws so fiercely that the clicking of his teeth could be plainly heard, executed
a slow flank movement and dashed unexpectedly at the man. Daniel was waiting
with muscles tense and ready and his eye watching every movement of his oppo-
nent. At the proper moment he brought the rail down with all his strength upon
the head of the dog, just as it was rising from the ground in an attempt to reach
his throat. The blow struck square, and the brute was hurled to the earth with
a howl of pain. But the oaken stick, its fibres sapped and weakened by having been
exposed to the weather for many years, broke off short, and the man was left with

380 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

his bare hands to finish the battle. He had no time to drag another rail from the
fence so close at hand, for the dog had not even been stunned by the concussion
he had sustained, but arose and made a second rush instantly. There was no
parleying and no tactics. The dog rushed in again, foaming and dreadful. The
man, summoning all of his courage, waited until the fierce face almost touched his
own, then swerved to one side and clenched both of his hands about the throat of
the rabid animal. Down they went together. The dog was large and his strength
was trebled by his mania. In fearful contortion the two forms wrestled, in the dust
of the narrow path and upon the grass at either side of the lane. Had the man's
hands slipped an inch the fight would have gone against him, but the sinews and
muscles in. his encircling fingers never slackened, but contracted more and more
instead. This was the might which the soil had given him; Nature was repaying
him for his devotion. With set teeth and labored breath Daniel held on. Presently
the dog's efforts became less furious, then spasmodic, then feeble. At last they
stopped and he lay dead across the chest of his stronger foe.

It was with difficulty Daniel dragged his hands from around the limp neck.
His fingers had become set, had clamped themselves in their superhuman hold.
He pushed the carcass from him and arose, mechanically brushing the dust from his
clothing. Madeline was leaning on the fence with her head in her arms, sobbing.
Daniel lifted the lifeless body and threw it over into the corn field, where it would
be out of sight. Then he walked toward the girl.

"It's all over," he said gently. The sight of a woman crying unnerved him
far more than his recent terrible experience. A renewed burst of weeping was the
only answer he received. "It's getting a little late, and I suspect we'd better go
home," he suggested, somewhat at random. She raised her head at this, and her
answer was as totally unexpected as it was original. Looking straight at him with
bright, swimming eyes, and with tear-smudged face, she said impetuously:

"Who are you?"

The man fell back a step and his eyebrows raised in wonderment. Then a half-
amused look spread over his face and he raised his bandaged hand — the one which
she had dressed and which had played its part in the victory just won. "I'm your
uncle's hired man — his overseer; John Daniel, you know."

"You're not John Daniel! Who are you?" There was half a frown on the
sweet face, an earnestness which would not permit of prevarication nor quibble.

"I will tell you soon, but not now," he answered. "This is neither the time
nor the place. But you shall know, because you want to know and because I want
you to, and because I want to know you as your equal." There was a calm dignity
in the tones which belied the man's coarse garb but which sat well with the high-
bred face and the air of culture which tan and toil could not conceal. Miss Del-
ford's eyes fell.

"Very well.," she said in a low tone. "I have known from the first that you
were not what you pretended to be. And you will remember that you betrayed
yourself the. afternoon I bound up your hand. I don't think uncle, nor auntie, nor
cousin Janet suspect anything. They are simple folk, but good as refined gold.
They took you as you presented yourself — as a farm-hand, and it is no wonder that
they have not seen beneath your mask. I have lived in the world and know its
people when I see them." Then she broke off with a little shudder. "Where is
it?" she asked, looking at the tumbled dust and the trampled grass.

"I have removed it from your sight," he replied very gravely.

"I have not thanked you yet, but I do now," she said, involuntarily taking

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 381

•

a step toward him, and gazing earnestly into his face. "You have saved my life at
the risk of your own. - I realize fully how heroic you have been; how forgetful of
self; and I thank you — thank you with my whole heart and soul. What grand
possessions are strength and courage in a man."

"It took both to accomplish what I have done," he answered, quietly, "but I
am glad to have been the instrument in the hand of Providence to save you."

She looked at him with a queer expression in her eyes, but said nothing.

"You have been blackberrying," he resumed, picking up her bucket. "You
made a mistake in straying so far alone. Come, I will return with you."

As the twilight deepened they went up the lane together. The muffled music
of nature's evening orchestra sounded all around them. He helped her climb the
hill, and, because the milking was going on in the lot just beyond the barn, he left
her before they reached it, with the grateful pressure of her hand tingling his and
the memory of her farewell glance before his eyes.

VIII
WHERE MOONLIGHT LINGERS

It was not long before Daniel received an answer to his letter. The perpen-
dicular, angular handwriting was greatly changed since he saw it last; now the lines
were wavering and uncertain, denoting that the hand which traced them had become
unsteady. A bitter pang smote the man's heart when he saw the familiar though
strangely changed superscription. And when, in the privacy of his room, he read
the message which his father had sent him, the feelings which surged up in his
breast found vent in tears. How enormously had he sinned! How graciously and
fully had he been forgiven! Ashamed and repentant, he knelt and prayed.

That evening just after supper, while the Master was marshaling his nightly
army of stars, Daniel took Joshua Delford down to the woodpile and talked to him.
Daniel did all the talking, but was frequently interrupted by ejaculations of sur-
prise and amazement from the older man. The plain, matter-of-fact tiller of the
soil had never guessed the secret which was told him that night. Nor did he seek
to doubt Daniel's story. It was simply something very wonderful and unheard-of
in his part of the world. As they walked back to the house, the overseer turned to
the porch to go around to the front and as Joshua's heavy shoes thumped upon the
porch floor, he said as though remarking upon the condition of the weather:
"Mad'line, John Dan'l wants to see you 'roun' to the front." The young lady
addressed arose and started through the hall without a word, and the farmer occu-
pied his favorite shuck-bottomed chair, tilted it back against the post by which it
sat and exploded the news bomb to his wife and daughter.

"Joshua," said Mr. Delford, warningly, when the recital was over, "are you
goin' to risk your brother's child goin" with Mr. Dan'l just on his spoken word?
How d' we know he ain't a rascal?"

"Oh! I could faint!" gasped Miss Janet, rising for some water.

"He's got his papers, Mandy; he's got his papers. Leastways he says that
some writin's come today that'll prove all he says. I brought the letter to 'im
myself, an' the name on the cover was wrote by an edicated man. An' Mad 'line's
twenty-one, I reck'n, an' c'n do as she pleases. All I know is that I never had sich

382 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

a han' on this place before for plannin' an' workin' an' shapin' things up. An' you
must low, Mandy, that he don't look like no man we've ever had before."

"He is polite an' genteel," assented Mrs. Delford. But do I understan',
Joshua, that he wants to set to Mad'line; wants to waif on her?"

"He didn't put it jist that way to me, but I reck'n that's what it 'mounts to.
He said that he wanted the privilege o' seein' Mad'line, an' talkin' to her, an'
since he killed that mad dog down in the lane that was about to take her, I think
she likes him purty well."

"You must write to brother Hiram this night, Joshua, an' tell him how things
are. It's your solemn duty."

"Tomorrer '11 do, I reck'n," yawned Mr. Delford, ejecting his quid and rising.
"It's bedtime now."

"I wouldn't think of goin' to bed an' leavin' Mad'line on the portico with
Mr. Dan'l ! "

"Well, I'm goin'," returned her liege, picking up the gourd dipper for a bed-
time draught. "John won't carry her off, I reck'n, without her makin' a little fuss."
He promptly thumped indoors.

"Ma," said Janet, in an excited whisper, "you go on to bed. You'll go to sleep
sitting iq your chair if you don't. Now I must sit up for cousin Madeline anyway,
because she will want to tell me all about this Mr. Daniel."

"They didn't carry on 'this way when I was a girl," remarked Mrs. Delford,
rising stiffly. "But girls from the city have ways that we don't know about, it
seems. I'd no more thought of keepin' comp'ny with a strange man when I was
young than I would o' flyin'. And Janet" — turning at the door — "don't let me
ever catch you doin' a thing o' this kind!"

Left alone, the girlish and excitable spinster carefully tiptoed to an old trunk
placed to one side of the rear doorway of the hall, and, perching herself upon this,
fell to listening to the drone of voices which came faintly through the hall from the

front of the house. A

Miss Delford was conscious of a sudden, unaccountable thrill when her uncle
delivered his message, but she arose to comply without a word and without hesi-
tancy. For a few days following the adventure in the lane the overseer had been
unusually reticent— had seemed to be awaiting something. He had never sought
her, but had rather held himself in the background more than ever, if such a thing
were possible. This behavior pained her no little, for it did not accord with the
words he had spoken just after he had slain the dog. But her womanliness forbade
her making any advances, and she had bided events as patiently as she could.
Passing through the hall with a light step, and aware all the time of a subdued
elation, she came to the front door, placed a hand gracefully upon either jamb, and
looked out. He was leaning against one of the portico pillars with his head sunk
upon his chest. Her approach had been so noiseless that he did not know she was
there.

"Did you ask for me?" The simple words, spoken low and with a peculiar
vibrant quality of tone, startled him. He looked up quickly, removed his hat, and
stood erect. "Yes, I would like to talk to you a little while tonight, if I may."
For answer she moved like a shadow to a settle placed to one side, where the
moonlight fell in checkered beauty through the vines.

"I thank you for coming. I—

"Won't you sit down?"

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 383

"Thank you." He came to her side and occupied the vacant space on the
settle. "I am going to tell you about myself tonight," he began abruptly.
"Would you like to hear?"

"Yes, if yo"u wish to reveal your story to me."

"It may seem strange to you that I should ask you to hear it, for I have not
known you long, and life histories are not lightly told, especially such an one
as mine."

"Go on; I am listening."

Then straightway he related the leading episodes of his career, softening
though not veiling the wilder part of his life, and mentioning the last two years of
struggles and trials as lightly as he could. Throughout it all he gave no names. It
was fully a minute after he had ceased talking that she turned to him with the
question,

"Who are you?"

"Daniel Croft."

"Dan Croft!" She half rose from her seat and her eyes flew open in astonish-
ment. Then she sank back, clasped her hands in her lap and gazed fixedly at the
floor in front of her.

"Have you heard of me?" he asked with a touch of cynicism.

"Yes, a college mate of mine lived in Mossdale, and she has often spoken to
me of Ivy Lodge and the kindly old man who lived there whom everyone loved.
She spoke of you, too."

"In what way?" he asked bitterly.

She turned her big, black, truthful eyes full upon him. "She said that you
were breaking your father's heart!"

"Yes!" The monosyllable came with a gasp of pain. "I will not attempt any
excuse, because it would be a cowardly, flimsy lie. I have suffered for it — just how
much no one will ever know."

"I think that yours has been the victory and that yours should be the praise,"
she said firmly. "Anyone may fall — God's angels have not been proof against that,
but it takes a man to overcome himself. Let me say that I think you have proven
yourself nobly. And whatever you have been and whatever you are and may
become, you know that my gratitude and good will are yours throughout life."

"Thank you, Miss Delford."

He put his hand in his coat pocket and drew forth a letter. "That you may
not think I am an impostor, and have trumped up a tale for your ears and those of
the good people here, will you take this and read it after you go in? It is from the
father whom I disgraced — the father whose failing years I hope to brighten with
love and filial tenderness. "

"I know you have spoken truly," she replied hastily, "but I will read the letter,
if you wish." His fingers touched hers as he transferred the missive to her hand.
"This is very sweet to me — to sit here and talk to one who moves in the sphere in
which I was born," he said. "You cannot know how I have missed the element of
refinement during the period of my exile. That has been nearly as hard as the
hourly struggle to keep myself respectable and clean."

"I can easily understand how hard it must have been for you." The faintest
trace of compassion lingered in her voice.

"I must not ask you to sit out here with me too late," he continued, rising.
"It would not be right to you — nor to them — he nodded toward the house. "But
I am going to ask you to permit me to see you more now; to be with you; to talk

384 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

to you. I ask it as a very great favor." She also had risen, and stood with her fair
face upturned — a face framed and shadowed with hair of intensest black. "It has
been a little lonely for me here," she answered, slowly, "for while I am not a
devotee of society, I like the city. I shall be glad to see you whenever you care to
come, or feel a desire for my company." He held out his hand and his face was
lighted by a smile of joy. "You are gracious and kind." She placed her warm,
soft palm within his broad, firm one. "Goodnight," she said softly. "Goodnight,"
he answered.

BESIDE THE STILL WATERS

Very soon it became quite natural to see Daniel and Madeline together. Mr.
and Mrs. Delford had talked the matter over at length and had decided that it would
be best not to attempt to interfere. Joshua had written to his brother in the city,
and Hiram had replied that Madeline was always a girl of her own mind, and that
while he did not favor the idea of her receiving attentions from a gentleman in
disguise, he was sure she would elope with a scarecrow if she took a notion to do
so, and that the best thing that they could do would be to let her alone and trust
to her common sense. The same mail brought a letter to that young lady from her
father, advising her to be very careful in the friendships which she formed, and
suggesting that it would be' very well for her to return home at once. But Miss Del-
ford did not go home. On the contrary, she stayed day after day and week after
week, and found each succeeding day pleasanter and happier than the last. That
was because Daniel Croft loved her, and because she knew it, though as yet Daniel
had not told her. But a look, a smile, a touch, however deferential each may be,
express love as plainly as words falling from the tongue.

Throughout it all the overseer did not shirk his work in the least. In the
morning he went forth so early that the dew washed his rough shoes; at noon he
would come in flushed, ruddy and perspiring, draw a bucket of coolest water from
the cistern by means of the old, creaking, windlass, and, tilting the bucket, press the
moss-grown rim to his lips and quaff deep of the precious gift, with a heart full of
thanksgiving to the Father. Soon after dinner he was out again, maybe whispering
a few words to Madeline at the porch steps before he went. In the scented dusk he
would come again, weary from toil and with the marks of the earth he loved upon
his hands and face. He would cleanse himself carefully bef9re coming onto the
side porch where she usually was waiting for him, always simply and sweetly garbed
and more often with a red rose nestling in her dark hair. The rest of the household
understood and appreciated the changed conditions. Thus, when Madeline and
Daniel were alone upon the porch the others were slow to intrude. They seemed
to recognize the fact that something was going forward, which required the presence
of but two persons, and they left these two persons alone. Daniel had easily estab-
lished his identity beyond the trace of doubt, and Joshua and Amanda Delford
looked upon him with an added respect.

Madeline did not attempt to conceal her admiration for the strong, brave, plain-
spoken man who had sought her as something to be prized above worth. She was
at his side through most of the quiet, early evening hours; she walked with him
before the eyes of all. She would oftc: accompany him in his lighter duties about

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 385

the house and barn. Down to the milking-gap at twilight time they would go
together; around to the pens to watch the feeding of the hogs; down to the barn
where the patient work-horses were reveling in corn and thrusting their twitching
noses deep in the racks of sweetest hay. She loved these best — these powerful,
docile brutes, that knew nothing but hard labor and strict obedience, whose great
muscles strained and sweated in the glare of noon, and that came in at evening to
enjoy their hard-earned food and rest.

Though each passing day was strangely sweet to Daniel now, invested as it was
with a certain charm and glamour which made the meanest toil the most glorious
privilege, yet the Sundays were the days which pleased him most. They were his
— and hers. There was a little church about three miles away, but it was too poor
to afford a regular pastor. Preaching was held here the first and third Sundays in
each month. On these days Madeline and Daniel went together. The church was
built in a magnificent grove of beech trees; behind it was the little cemetery with
its plain white shafts and its inevitable growth of briars and bushes. The church
was a small building, furnished with wooden benches and having strips of carpet
running up each aisle. It had no bell, because it did not need any. It sat far back
from the road and a carpet of richest bluegrass led up to its very portal. It was to
this place that the lovers came, hitched their horse to one of the iron rings fastened
in many of the beech trees and went in to worship. The congregation was, of
course, drawn from the community, and reflected in the main a sturdy, stanch man-
hood and devoted and earnest womanhood. The little house was usually filled. A
wheezy organ in a corner next to the pulpit carried the air of some simple gospel
hymn and everyone sang, some considerably behind the others and some in another
key, but the hearts which dictated the praise were genuine. The men always sang
bass — and a thunderous bass it was, too, frequently drowning with its power the
weaker soprano of the women. The minister was a young man, meek-faced and
earnest. He prayed in plain words, and his appeal, while not borne upward on
the wings of oratory, ascended gently, as an incense lighted by the hand of faith.
In like manner his discourse was devoid of garniture and ornament. His figures
were taken from the life which his hearers knew and lived, and the gospel which
he proclaimed was not swathed in rhetoric nor armored with logic. He told the
story he believed it his duty to tell in such a way that all who heard understood.
He did not make an intricate puzzle of Christianity and then seek to solve the
enigma to illustrate his own power. After the sermon came another prayer and
another hymn and the benediction followed.

But there were Sundays when there was no preaching at the little church, and
the long Summer days must be spent. Daniel had ferreted out the shady walks and
the secluded spots not too far from the house, for he had learned soon that Made-
line loved these things as much as he. She had gone with him once or twice, and
there had been times when the man's tongue stopped, so eager was he to say one
thing, and that he hesitated to say. Just why, he did not know; he could not have
told himself. Perhaps it was the timidity, the shrinking which true love always has;
perhaps it was an innate fear of his unworthiness.

One Sunday afternoon when Joshua was asleep in the cool, dark parlor, when
Mrs. Delford was nodding over the Bible in her lap, when Miss Janet was ensconced
in her apartment, secretly absorbed in a thrilling love story, when the old house
itself slumbered in the Sabbath stillness — Daniel came to Madeline as she sat in
the broad hall turning the leaves of a book, and asked her to go walking. "It's a
place you've never been before," he said, "and where, I am sure, you never would

386 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

go unless I went with you." "Where?" she asked, smiling up at him archly.

"At the other end of the lane," he answered, laughing low.

"Oh, goodness!" She put her hands to her eyes to shut out an imaginary sight.
"There's nothing there but dust and sunlight," she continued.

"I said. at the other end of the lane," he repeated. "The place I refer to is
the narrow pathway between the river and the race, which leads up to the dam.
Would you not like to go?" His voice had grown serious. It was usually serious
when he was with her now, and his eyes searched her face constantly. For answer
she jumped up with a light cry of joy. "Do you mean it?" she queried, clasping
her hands under her chin and looking at him eagerly with her big, wide eyes.

"Certainly; will you go?"

"I shall be delighted! Let me tell auntie." She tripped to the sitting-room
and returned with the news that Mrs. Delford had gone to sleep reading her Bible;
the ominous sounds issuing from the half-closed door leading into the parlor
denoted that the master of the house was in no condition to receive confidences, so
the young lady flew up-stairs to tell her cousin, and to procure a suitable hat. She
returned wearing a broad-brimmed straw, much the same as the men used on the
farm, except that it was of finer quality, and had a red ribbon encircling the crown
and trailing away into a pair of streamers. These streamers she was tying under
her round, firm chin as she came deliberately down the broad, old-fashioned stair-
way. It was a sight to move any man; it caused Daniel to turn his eyes away.

"Will you not need a parasol?" he asked, as they came out upon the long back
porch.

"I chose this hat instead," she answered, peering at him from under its brim
like a mischievous sprite. "Come here a moment. I'll show you something I
venture to say you have never seen." She directed her steps toward a lady's saddle
which was hanging by one stirrup upon the wall. "Don't go too close," she warned,
catching his sleeve between her finger and thumb, "you'll scare it!" He turned to
her blankly. "What makes men so stupid? I knew you never had seen it. Now
look!"

Following her outstretched arm with his eyes, Daniel beheld a bird's nest
tucked snugly between the flaps of the saddle and the wall. And the little brown
head of the mother bird was peeping over its edge.

"It's a wren," he said. "I knew they nested in out-buildings and in all
manner of places, but this is the most curious site for a nest that I have ever seen."
"Auntie says this wren has been building her nest here for the past five years,"
replied Madeline, as they moved on, "and she never uses her saddle while its tiny
occupant claims it. They say it is a good sign for a wren to be about the house."
So, with the flow of conversation drifting along the simpler channels of life, they
passed down to the corner. of the yard where the granary stood, and where a small
gate let them out onto the open space stretching before the barn lot. Down this
they went, past an enclosed plot of ground next to the garden, which had been the
slaves' burying-ground before the war, and coming directly to a large, oak-slatted
gate at the crib, which gave them access to the hill overlooking the rich bottom lands
which paid their bounteous yearly tributes to their owner. They did not follow the
rocky, horseshoe-curved road winding around the hill. Young blood had nothing
to do with such a prosy and orthodox way of reaching the level below. Straight
down the steep declivity they went, aiding their progress by grasping bushes and
saplings, and each laughing at any slip the other made. Daniel was never an arm's
length away from the active, self-reliant girl who swung herself so gracefully and so

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 387

easily down the hill. Neither did his eye ever leave her, and if her foot came near
to resting upon a loose stone he would warn her of the peril. They gained the lane
quickly and started down it side by side, the sun shimmering white and dazzling
in the dust and glinting from the green herbage. When they passed the spot
which marked the conflict with the mad dog, Madeline shuddered and hastened her
steps.

The lane was very soon traversed. Its further end debouched into a semi-
circular space. Directly in front was a watering place for stock; to the left was
a rude bridge spanning the race, and sufficiently wide for a two-horse wagon to pass
over. It consisted of the roughly-hewn trunks of two beeches stretching from bank
to bank and placed parallel with each other, and resting upon these, close together,
were heavy oaken planks. ,

Upon this bridge the two presently stood, and stopped for a moment to enjoy
the grateful shade, for the entire course of the mill-race was marked by a thick
growth of various kinds of trees. The bridge was without a railing. Daniel and
Madeline approached one edge and looked over. The water was very low, for it
was the dry season of the year. Formerly this waterway had been quite narrow,
but now it was at least fourteen feet wide by eight deep. Its gullied sides were of
yellow clay, and its bottom, seen through the shallow stream trickling over it, was
covered with coarse gravel and flat stones. While this in itself was not especially
attractive, the accompaniment of trees and vines and bushes and picturesque,
lichen-grown rail fences worming their lengths along the top of either bank, formed
a picture pleasing to the eye, and the man and the girl tarried quite a while to
enjoy the scene.

"Shall we go now?" asked Daniel, at length. "The dam is perhaps three-
quarters of a mile upstream, and we have come now to the pleasantest part of our
walk."

"Yes, let us go," she answered, sighing gently. Then ardently — "Oh, how
sweet is a Sunday in the country!"

He looked at her longingly as she turned for a last glance down the leaf-hung
water-course, then led the way.

The narrow neck of land separating the river and the race was indeed a paradise
for the lover of nature. A footpath wound along it, threading the trees and looping
around projecting rocks. To the right the race was lost between its high banks;
to the left the river purled drowsily along over its stony bed, flanked with groves of
sycamore and overhanging elms.

Their progress was blessed by continual shade. At times splashes and pools
of sunlight would drop through the branches overhead and spread themselves over
the leaves and twigs that covered the ground. A frightened rabbit would jump
from a clump of weeds by the path, flaunt his snow-white beacon in a dozen erratic
leaps, and disappear. From every point came the sweet multitude of bird voices,
caroling their day-long anthems to the Most High. In every key and with divers
notes they poured forth the joy of living and praise to the Master. Suddenly a
limb overhead would dip and there would follow a quick rustle of leaves, then a
brown squirrel would hump his back and curl his bushy tail over it and gaze
wonderingly and half scared at the intruders into his domain. The sentinel
kingfisher sat on his dead limb, and watched the pellucid depths beneath
him. The little blue heron stood in the shallows and waited for minnows
and crawfishes. Such was the country invaded by two souls trembling with love
as yet unconfessed.

388 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

THE GREENWOOD CHAMBER

By some strange chance the conversation ebbed. The path was so narrow and
the condition of the ground was such that they had to move single file, and courtesy
demanded that Madeline should have precedence. Daniel came closely behind her;
close enough to pull back obstructing limbs and snap off impertinent twigs on a
level with her face. But neither spoke much beyond a random remark. Soon they
became conscious of a low roar, seeming to come from far away. She turned to
him question! ngly.

"It's the water falling over the dam," he said; "we will be there soon." Then
they went on silently through the quiet shade. Madeline's eyes were engrossed by
the many wonderful things which lay in such tangled profusion all around her, and
perhaps introspection was claiming part of her attention. At any rate she failed
to see the small but tenacious body of a creeper which had stretched its length
across the path. The toe of her boot caught under it, it would not give when she
strove to lift her foot for the next step, and as a consequence she fell forward heavily
with a low cry. But Daniel was quicker than her fall. His right arm caught her
around the waist while she was yet a safe distance from the ground, and as he lifted
her up, temporarily losing his balance, her whole weight rested for a short moment
upon his breast. It was over very quickly, so quickly, in fact, "that the young lady
scarcely knew what had happened, but the vivid recollection of that strong arm
around her, snatching her from danger, brought a flood of crimson to her face. "It
was dreadfully clumsy of me," she said with a pout; "and very dextrous of
you," she added with a smile of appreciation. "How did you do it?"

"I can hardly say," he answered, "but I am very glad I was on time. There
was an ugly stone lying just where your face would have struck." He winced
visibly as he thought of what might have happened. "Come here," he said,
abruptly, "and let me show you something." He led the way to the river bank.
"What is that?" he asked, pointing to something moving in mid-stream and slowly
nearing the opposite shore. I,t appeared to be merely a black ball, with offshoots
of green on either side.

"I don't know," she answered, very positively and very solemnly.

He laughed. "That's a muskrat," he said.

"How do you know?" incredulously.

"Because I am familiar with them."

"But he has green whiskers," remonstrated the girl.

Daniel did not seek to restrain the explosion of laughter which this remark
elicited. "The thief has been to your uncle's corn field yonder," he said, "and he
is carrying off his plunder. He has the half of a stalk of young corn in his mouth.
His home is in that bank, and the entrance to it is below the water line. Watch
him dive just before he reaches home." Silently they stood and watched the swim-
mer. When quite near the shore he dived and did not reappear. "They are won-
derful little things," said Daniel, "but for the matter of that, all of the wild things
are wonderful if we would take the time and trouble to study them and their
habits."

In a few more minutes they reached the dam, at a point where the water was
turned into the race. Mutely they viewed the structure. It was made of huge hewn

THE SALT OF THE EARTH

389

logs riveted and bound with bolts and bars. The wall which it presented was sturdy
and splotched with a slimy, greenish moss, and little streamlets trickled through
the crevices in the logs. But a small quantity of water flowed over'the dam, yet it
made a considerable noise on account of the depth of its fall. Above the dam the
river stretched in a broad, unruffled expanse. When they had watched it all for
quite a while, Daniel suggested that they cross over, as there was something worth
seeing on the other side. A fallen tree afforded them footing for half the distance
across the river, and the rest of the way was accomplished by using stepping-stones,
which some hand had previously placed. A short walk followed, then Daniel parted
some bushes and disclosed a little glade securely shut in and sequestered, an ideal
spot for a court of love. The young man's heart was thumping oppressively as he
bowed his fair companion into this sylvan retreat, then stepped in himself and
allowed the bushes to close behind him.

"This is like a fairy's palace!" she said, standing half awed in the mellow,
subdued light.

"Then you must play the fairy queen," he answered, gallantly, delighted in her
pleasure. The little greenwood chamber was in truth bewitching in its simple
beauty. Just in front of them a huge gray stone was set in a low embankment; the
other two sides were an impenetrable mass of trees and driftwood matted and held
together by the luxuriant growth of the wild poison ivy, and next to the river was
the only approach through the thickly growing bushes. The room was circular in
shape and about ten feet in diameter and the floor was covered with short, thick
grass. Far overhead the branches of the trees were interlocked in one dense,
umbrageous roof, through which the tiniest ray of sunlight could find no way to
come. And it was cool here, refreshingly cool, and everything said rest and be
happy. The man removed his hat, as though, indeed, he had come into a room
with the girl.

"You play the fairy queen," he said, pointing to a large, smooth stone lying
near the gray slab embedded in the bank. "That is your throne; I am your sole
subject, unless you count the birds above you." There was a tender gravity in his
tones which belied the laughter in his eyes and the smile on his lips. Madeline
glanced at him quickly, for her woman's ear had detected that note of deep,
suppressed feeling, and she was conscious of a rapid tightening about her heart
followed by a mighty surge of emotion throughout her whole being. But she went
and sat on the stone as he had asked her to do, disposing her simple gingham gown
about her in billowy folds. Then she removed her hat and let it fall to the earth,
but held to the ends of the red streamers and toyed with them, her eyes downcast.
The plain, unaffected arrangement of her hair struck Daniel as being remarkably
charming, as he came and stretched his well-moulded figure at her feet, resting one
side of his face upon his palm. "Now tell me about yourself," he said, looking at
her with a hungry intensity of which he was not aware. "You know my life, from
its blackest to its best. Won't you tell me something of your folks — of
yourself?"

"We live in Louisville— father is in the wholesale tobacco business," she began
obediently. "But I suppose I should go back further than that. Well, father's
folks were country people from time immemorial. I don't think we have any family
tree, and if we have I hope I'll never discover it. Just plain, honest tillers of the
soil, going to bed at dark and arising strong for the day's work at cock-crow. When
he was about eighteen father became ambitious. Uncle Joshua and grandpa Del-
ford tried to dissuade him from leaving the old home farm, but nothing would do him

390 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

but that he must go the city. I believe they tell it now that he had only ten dollars,
in cash, for grandpa was angry with him for going and would not give him any
money. So he* went away without it. I think the first job he got was along the
river — on one of the towboats. Anyway, he barely managed to keep alive for a
month or two. But he did his work well and always kept his eyes open, and soon
he got something better. He saved part of all that he earned, and by the time he
was twenty-five he was employed in a tobacco factory and receiving a good salary.
Then he became one of the partners and now he owns the whole business. We live
on Fifth street and I am the only child of two very devoted parents." She raised
her eyes with a smile.

"Thank you for your story. I have felt for many days that I wanted to know
more of you. Do you visit your uncle often?"

"Every Summer I come for a month or two. I began it when a child, spending
most of my vacation from school here, and as I have grown older I still find a genu-
ine joy in coming back to the old place. It is so restful, so purifying. Everywhere
is tenderness and peace and happiness and content. The balances of the universe
seems poised in perfect harmony. What a blessing it is to be allowed the privilege
of coming and enjoying all these benefits!"

Daniel looked at her with placid features, but with glowing eyes in which shone
a new awakening. "My heart rejoices to hear you speak that way," he said, meas-
uring his words distinctly. "Nature has been my foster mother. My reverence for
her is second only to my reverence for God. I came to her accursed, blighted,
almost helpless.. Through her benign power I have been regenerated, made whole
again. I can feel her strength coming to me day by day, and the thankfulness in
my heart is a constant wellspring of gratitude to the dear Father. Ah! you cannot
know how the wasted hours of my life lie upon my soul in daily reproach and
shame!"

"There is always repentance and atonement, which Christ has pro-
vided for those who love Him. You have repented and atoned in a way.
The greater atonement will come when you restore yourself to your father
with a clean heart and make restitution by tenderly caring for him in his
advancing years."

"Could you forgive one dear to you who had trespassed every moral obligation,
who had seen his error and striven for the white life?"

"Yes, I would forgive him."

"Noble heart! You are completing what days of solitude and nights of prayer
and struggle have begun." He sat up, came closer to her and went on: "I would
not magnify the conquest which I have made to render myself in any way worthy
in your eyes. I am all unworthiness, and in my heart is nothing but humility and
praise. But since you have come into my life there has been something added."
Madeline caught her breath sharply and her head sunk forward. "How could it
be otherwise? Sweet flower of womanhood, I have nothing to offer you but my love
and the strength of my hands. But they are both true, and with them I will shield,
cherish and protect you as long as I shall live. Madeline; sweet one! I
love you!"

The quiet fervor of this intense, though low - voiced appeal, sub-
merged her entire being with a flood of joy. She lifted her flushed
face and the eyes which sought his glistened from unshed tears of
happiness. And the little greenwood chamber was sanctified by softly
whispered vows of purest love.

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 39 r

XI
THE GARNERING OF THE GRAIN

It was that mysterious hour just before the earth flings her nightrobes from her
breast in joyful awakening. That wonderful hour when the east is not even toucher,
by the faintest trace of gray-fingered dawn ; when the stars' vigils are as bright and
manifold as though they would last forever, and all things are asleep.

Along the highway approaching Joshua Delford's house crept a strange object,
appearing misshapen and grewsome in the night shadows. Four oxen, moving
two abreast, were dragging a thresher engine up the low hill just before the pike
branched into the big gate. Their progress was slow, very slow, Even on a level
their gait was the same sedate walk which never hastened and never slackened," on
the incline they moved just as regularly, but with infinitely more effort, for their
burden was fearfully heavy. Crunching over the loose stones came the broad wheels;
in front two pairs of necks bent under their respective yokes — cumbersome wooden
contrivances with hickory loops to encircle the neck — and the great muscles in the
corded thighs expanded and contracted with every forward step. With heads out-
stretched and twisted from side to side in the stress of their toil, with bodies leaning
slightly toward the pole running between them, the powerful beasts went on without
stop or falter. A short distance behind the engine came the separator, drawn with
apparent ease by two more oxen. Behind this, in turn, was the water wagon, which
was pulled by two small mules. It was threshing day at Joshua Delfcrd's farm, and
this was the threshing force coming for a daylight start.

Everything was still at the big white house with the green shutters and the red
roof. Back in the locust tree near the negro cabins old Chanticleer still slept upon
his limb, with the hens and the turkeys around him. The subtle smell of the coming
day had not yet aroused him. The door of the cottage opened and a man came
forth yawning and stretching his arms above his head. The sound of wheels
crunching heavily reached him and he started as though surprised, glanced hurriedly
toward the east, where the slightest possible glow appeared, and walked around to
the front of the house. Standing beneath one of the half-open upstairs windows,
he began tossing pebbles at it and an occasional click told when one of the missiles
stuck the glass panes. Watching closely all the time, he was presently rewarded by
a low voice floating down to him from above, "Just in a moment! Will I be on
time?"

"Yes; hurry!" he sent back, and went and stood on the portico quite close to
the locked front doors. The next few minutes seemed very long to him, for waiting
is mighty poor business when one's heart is overflowing with love and longing, but
directly he heard the trip of light feet coming down the stairs, the bolt creaked in
the lock, and Madeline walked straight into his arms. Exacting a lover's tribute
with shameless effrontery, Daniel took her hand and led her to the wooden step in
front of the portico.

"Where are they? I don't see them!" she said, with mock impatience.

"Doubter!" he answered reproachfully. "Didn't I promise you that you
should see it all, even the before day arrival? They have stopped at the gate; now
they are starting again." As he spoke the jolting, grinding noise began once more,
and a minute later the oxen and the thresher came into view, though seen but dimly
on account of the scant light. After it came the unwieldly separator, like some
great land terrapin on a journey.

392 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

"They're driving cows!" declared Madeline, catching a faint gleam from the
spreading horns on the heads of the animals. "I think that's a shame!"

"They're oxen, Miss Simplicity," returned Daniel, "and they are stronger than
any of our beasts of burden. Far stronger than a horse or a mule. Nothing else
could pull that mass of iron."

"Let's go closer," she said; "down to the stile — won't you?" The appealing
look she gave him would have gained a far more unreasonable request.

"The grass is wet as it can be," he remonstrated. "You are not used to run-
ning around at this time of the morning, remember."

"But I have on heavy shoes," she pleaded. "You know I'm to go to the field
today to see it all well done, and I have shod myself for walking."

Daniel regarded her with indecision for a moment, half tempted to make the
suggestion that he might carry her, but in the end he refrained from doing this, and
said: "Will you promise to change your shoes if you get your feet wet?"

"Yes — you should have been an old maid!"

"Come along, then."

And though the ground was entirely free from obstructions of any kind and
sloped gradually toward the stile, Daniel found it imperative that he should take
her hand in his as they passed through the yard. When they gained the stile the
light had grown perceptibly, and the uncouth procession they had come to view had
left the road which ran down by the spot where they were standing and was trailing
along the side of a gentle swell in the neighboring pasture. "Where are they
going?" demanded Madeline in alarm.

"To the wheat field," answered Daniel with grave tenderness.

"There's nothing out there but some big trees and the orchard further down."

"Little goose! You would never make a farmer's wife. They will go along the
top of that rise until they come to the hill which dips down to the bottom where the
wheat is stacked. That hill is thickly wooded, but a road slants down it, coming
out almost at the stacks. They will reach there in thirty minutes, plant their appa-
ratus, get steam up, and be ready for work half an hour after sunrise. Now we'd
better go and get that sleepy-headed household to stirring if you want to go a-field
with me today."

"I'm so glad to have seen them coming in," she said, her eyes still fastened
on the queer procession in the pasture. "It is a sight to remember when I — when
we go back home!" She turned to him with a glad smile and, reaching up, put her
hands upon his broad shoulders.

"Yes, when we go back home" — he repeated her very words, and the adoration
in his eyes did not need the interpretation of the tongue. "Bless you!" he added
fervently, grasping both her hands and pressing them to his lips. "God has been
good to me!"

"And to me," she answered, as they turned toward the house with the first
pure glow of the morning resting upon their happy faces.

"What in thunder are you young-uns doin,' caperin' 'roun' here before day?"
Joshua raised his bewhiskered visage from the tin washpan long enough to fire this
question at his niece and his overseer as they appeared upon the side porch.

"The thresher's here, uncle," announced Madeline, rushing up to him and
grasping him by the arm.

"Well, I reck'n I know it, seein's I engaged it three weeks ago. Ye never saw
a thrasher before, did ye?" he continued with a doting smile.

"No; I have always gone just before they came, or have come just after they

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 393

left. I'm going to help today — Mr. Croft has promised."

"Yes, Mandy'll need all the help she can get. It's a mighty job cookin' dinner
for a thrashin' crew."

"But I'm going to be down at the threshing place!"

"Well, what on earth?" — He stopped, looked quizzically first at one and then
at the other, then broke into a loud laugh and buried his half-dry face in the coarse
towel he had been holding in his hand ever since Madeline had interrupted him.

Breakfast was over at an unusually early hour that morning; so early, in fact,
that it had to be eaten by lamplight, for that was to be one of the busiest days of
the farmer's year. The wheat had yielded a full crop, and it would take a hard
day's work to get it threshed and stowed away in the granary between the rising of
the sun and its going down. There was a great ado about the house that Summer
morning. Preparations for dinner were set afoot as soon as breakfast was finished,
or it taxed the farm housewife's ingenuity and patience to prepare a meal for half a
score of famished men. An old ham was hauled down from the black rafters in the
large smoke-house; sundry hens and chickens met an unexpected death at the
merciless hands of the cook, and the garden was invaded and robbed of plenteous
quantities of beans, peas and potatoes. The granary door was set wide and one
hand was engaged in searching for possible holes in the tin-lined bins; dusting away
the cobwebs and sweeping out the refuse of last year's crop. The wagon with the
biggest bed, with two of Joshua's strongest mules hitched to it, came rattling from
the barn lot and received its consignment of empty sacks at the gate by the granary.
The driver discovered that a hame-string had snapped. The delay thus caused was
only momentary. Dragging a handful of gray hemp from the granary loft, Joshua
disentangled a strand of suitable size, gave one end of it to his driver to hold, and
began twisting the other by rolling it between his palms. So in a trice a new string
was made, and the combined strength of half a dozen men could not have broken it.
A warning whistle sounded from the wheat field. Madeline came racing down the
porch as Daniel issued from the cottage in his working garb; the red bandana
knotted about his neck and the broad-brimmed straw hat flapping about his head.
"Let's hurry, for goodness' sake!" cried Madeline. "I wouldn't miss seeing
them start for anything in the world!"

"We have plenty of time," he assured her. "That call you heard was for your
uncle's men to come. I know a short way which we will take. I'm glad Mr. Del-
ford stacked so near the house."

"Oh, I would have gone had it been at the other end of the farm — provided
you went with me." She gave him a glance which set his heart to thumping.

"I would go with you anywhere," he said gently, and opened the yard gate for
her to pass out. In a short time they reached the scene of the day's work, and
Madeline, standing in the line of shade which lay like a dark border at the foot of
the wooded hill, looked on the sight with wide eyes of wonder. Three immense
conical stacks of wheat rose up in the form of old-time bee hives only a few yards
away. They were placed so closely together that their bases almost touched. With
its front quite near to these, the separator stood, its wheels choked. Perhaps
thirty feet away was the engine, and the wheels of this had been sunk in little
ditches to insure stability. A heavy band, crossing midway between the two
machines, connected the one with the other. The oxen, yoked two and two, had
been turned loose to feed on the aftermath of clover which had sprung up among
the golden stubble. Joshua Delford rode up to where Madeline and Daniel were
standing. "John," he said, "I reck' n you'l) have to feed till dinner time. Know

394 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

how, I reck'n?" Daniel smiled. "Yes; are they ready?" Joshua's reply was
made unnecessary by the noisy starting of all the machinery at that instant. "You
had better remain here," said Daniel, turning to Madeline. "You can see well
enough and will run no danger of getting hurt. I'm to feed the separator. It's hot
work and hard work, and if I don't appear to notice you, you must understand it is
because I must keep my eyes on what I am doing." He was gone from her side
with this, and with a thrill of pride she watched him leap upon the platform, hastily
don a pair of goggles to protect his eyes from the dust and the chaff, then take in
his right hand a long, sharp knife with which to sever the straw wrappings which
bound each bundle of grain. A man had already mounted to the top of the nearest
stack, torn off the cap sheaves and hurled them down upon the wooden apron before
which Daniel stood. Quickly he severed the withes which held the bundles
together, swiftly scattered the slim, yellow stalks and allowed them to glide down
into the yawning maw waiting to receive them. Then business began in earnest.
Taking a firm stand and working only from the waist up, Daniel attacked and deftly
disposed of the rain of sheaves which fell upon him. The carrier at the other end
of the machine began to deliver straw and chaff, and a thin stream of golden wheat
trickled down the chute into the half-bushel measure beneath it. So the morning
passed. One by one the sacks were filled, tied, and set aside until there were
enough to make a load. Then brawny hands lifted them into the wagon and they
were hauled away to the storehouse. Daniel stuck grimly to his task, with brief
intermissions. Coming once for a drink near to where Madeline was sitting, he
took off his hat and ugly goggles and stood for a moment's rest.

"Aren't you tired?" she asked compassionately, viewing the red mark which
his hat band had made across his forehead and the streams of perspiration which
seamed his face.

"Yes," he replied; "but my time hasn't come to rest. Don't you find it
rather lonely here by yourself?"

"No; I watch you and I am content." A swift glance exchanged from eyes
which understood and he was back in the whirr and din with added courage in his
heart.

After the dinner bell had sent its welcome invitation to the toilers, and as
Daniel was walking homeward with Madeline along a secluded path, he told her
of another letter which he had received from his father the day before, in which Mr.
Croft had entreated him to come home at once.

"Is he sick?" queried Madeline with quick interest.

"No, he is well, but it has made him so happy to learn of my new life that he
feels each day we are apart is a day lost to us both."

"Have you told him of — of — us?"

"I shall write him tonight and lay it all before him."

"Oh, Daniel! what will he say?"

"I think he will be very glad, sweet one. Ivy Lodge needs just such a mistress
as you will be. Father writes that it is beautiful now, covered with flowers and
vines." Then they drew closer to each other and moved on in silence.

"When — when are we going home, Daniel?" she asked softly.

"Let us go as soon as possible, dearest. Father's life is too short now for me
ever to give him back what I took from it. You know Brewster is pottering about
on his crutches. It will be some time before he can take hold of things again, but
my first duty is to the parent whom I have wronged."

"Sup'p'ose we settle everything tonight," she said, as they were drawing near to

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 395

the yard gate. "On the portico, after supper," supplemented Daniel. Madeline
agreed.

XII

THE HAVEN OF HOME

Madeline did not return to the field in the afternoon. She helped her aunt
and cousin to clean up the house after the departure of the thresher-men, then went
to her room and sat all alone day-dreaming, with her hands clasped over her knee.
She had plenty to think about, and the trend of her meditations must have been
along pleasant lines, for there was a musing smile upon her warm lips and a soft
light in her dark eyes. When supper was over that evening and the house had
grown quiet early, as was its custom, she stole out to the portico and found Daniel
waiting for her. He took her hands tenderly in his and led her to the settle. She
asked him to light his pipe, telling him she was sure he could think and talk better
then, and he consented. "Now tell me your plans," she said.

"Will you be guided by them?" he asked soberly.

"I shall reserve the right to correct them," she said, smiling, "if they do not
suit my notions." Then slowly and with care he told her of the way he had thought
out, and when he had finished, it seemed to her that everything was right. But she
must have her say, too, and so she changed something here and there, Daniel agree-
ing with grave nods to each suggestion. It was very late when they bade each other
goodnight, but late as it was, each wrote a long letter before they went to rest.
Madeline's was to her parents, telling them of her approaching marriage to Daniel
Croft, which was to occur two weeks from that date at the home of her uncle Joshua,
and asking them to be present. She begged their pardon for marrying in such a
quiet, simple way; (her mother was a society woman and liked the show and glitter
of a church wedding) but her husband-to-be was a poor man and nothing but an
extremely unostentatious wedding would be good taste. Daniel's letter was to his
father. He wrote tenderly of this sweet gift of love which had come to him with
all its ennobling influence and pristine purity, just at the time when the crown of
manhood had been placed upon his brow again. Of the dear woman who had loved
him, penniless and a stranger, and who had promised to cast her lot with his for
better or for worse. Then he wrote of the day of- the wedding, telling feelingly of
his sorrow that his father could not be present and adding that they would be home
the next day. "Be ready," he concluded, "to meet me with your forgiveness, and
us both with your love. We are coming to make you forget the unhappiness I have
caused you and to live peacefully together in the little nest among the flowers."

Daniel went forward with his duties as overseer until the very morning of his
wedding day. The ceremony was to take place mid-afternoon, and that morning the
ever-darkened parlor was thrown open to the sunshine and the breeze. The furnish-
ings of this room were exceedingly plain. There was a sofa and a number of chairs
covered with haircloth; a square piano occupied one corner. Upon the tall mantel
were a pair of heavy glass candle-sticks, with a miniature house made of tiny shells
and periwinkles glued onto pasteboard. There was also a marble-topped center
table holding the big family album, which was filled more or less with tintypes and
daguerreotypes. That was all. Plain, honest, good, like the people they repre-
sented. About noon Mr. Hiram Delford arrived, but his wife did not come with
him. Her pride had been cut to the quick and she had stayed at home. Made-

396 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

line's face paled when her father came in alone, but her firm chin only grew firmer
still, and a half-rebellious look sprang to her eyes. Soon after dinner everybody
donned their Sunday clothes and waited impatiently. When the eventful hourcame
there was no wedding march, no ribbons nor flower girls, no giving away of the
bride. But there was a plain gold ring which Daniel slipped upon the finger of the
woman he loved -- ''Whom God hath joined together let not man put asunder."

Twilight was beginning to shadow Ivy Lodge. Just above the steps, on the
porch, sat Roger Croft, his face lighted by the great joy of the gentle spirit within.
The doors behind him were open wide, and a lamp with a ruby shade glowed
a cordial welcome from the broad hall. The soul of the old man sang within him,
for this day marked the return of his boy — the prodigal son. This day, this hour,
this minute, for was not that a carriage stopping at the gate? It did not enter.
Two persons got out and came in, walking hand in hand up the lawn toward him.
Roger leaned forward and looked, the hand which rested upon his cane trembling
violently. Then he arose and stood upon the steps, his white hair falling about his
face and his eyes alight with a strange brilliancy. The figures came on toward him,
closer yet, and now the beloved features of one whom once he thought was lost
broke upon his vision. He held out his arms with one glad word — "Daniel!" — and
father and son met.

Later, when the musk from beds of a multitude of drowsy flowers was wafted
throughout the confines of the place, Madeline and Daniel sat on the steps of the
porch, side by side, hand in hand, cheek to cheek. His had been the victory; his
had been the reward. Love had found him and had set its seal upon him. In the
haven of home he was at rest at last. In the sacred inner room an old man knelt.
"He has come," he said reverently; "our boy — your boy — is home again — a man."

THE PRAIRIE-GRASS DIVIDING

THE prairie-grass dividing — its special odor breathing,
' I demand of it the spiritual corresponding,
Demand the most copious and close companionship of men,
Demand the blades to rise of words, acts, beings,
Those of the open atmosphere, coarse, sunlit, fresh, nutritious,
Those that go their own gait, erect, stepping with freedom and command, — leading, not

following,

Those with a never-quelled audacity — those with sweet and lusty flesh, clear of taint,
Those that look carelessly in the faces of Presidents and Governors, as to say, Who

are you ?
Those of earth-born passion, simple, never-constrained, never obedient,

Those of inland America.

— Walt Whitman

MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

V.— WOMAN AS THE FEMALE

By Michael A. Lane

Author of "The Level of Social Motion," "New Dawns of Knowledge," etc,

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

IT may be consistently held that to
discuss woman as "the female of the
species" is to discuss her in her en-
tirety— all her other supposed ascrip-
tions, attributes, powers, qualities, and
so on, being mere furniture with which
she is superstitiously surrounded.

And yet it would not be wholly philo-
sophical to consider woman as a mere
animal, as zoology considers animals of
every kind, for it must be remembered
that while woman is an animal, she is
also a social animal; and that the
present state of her body and mind is
largely the result of social forces, which
react upon sex with a power not always
— if at all — regarded as important by
those who study the bodies of living
things in themselves.

Many of the physical traits of women
are indirectly due to certain social
necessities originating in ancient times',
when tribes were in chronic warfare,
and when the males were required to
fight. In this need of war, or even
earlier, in the needs of the hunt, the
male of the species probably acquired
his superior strength and cunning. In
many of the lower animals the male is
the stronger and heavier; but activity is
the fundamental trait of the male; and
of the germ-cells, from the union of
which all animals are developed, the
male cell is vastly the smaller and in-
finitely the more active.

Unfortunately for popular knowledge
on the subject of man, the vast majority
of so-called enlightened persons stagger
under such a load of superstition con-
cerning the facts about themselves as

would require the strength of a Her-
cules to lift. While the words "lady"
and "gentleman" are in full force — to
say nothing of other superstitions which
tend to maintain the present topsy-turvy
state of society — it would seem fatuous,
if no more, to attempt to discuss woman
as the female, and to tell the truth about
her. And yet it is sometimes socially
healthful, even for the zoologist, to tell
the truth promiscuously — that is, without
regard to the kind of people that hear
it; to scatter it abroad, as it were, on
the chance that some of the seed will
fall on fruitful ground.

Now if we accept the theory that
woman is a female quite as much as
a female cat or a cow, a vast mass of
otherwise incomprehensible mystery will
be cleared up, and much of the con-
tempt with which the male of the species
proverbially regards his female compan-
ion will be seen to be unscientific and
shallow. If women have certain ridicu-
lous or despicable traits — I mean traits
which in a man would be ridiculous or
despicable — there must be some good
reason for the fact. These female traits,
which seem so strange and undesirable
to many of us, will be largely mollified
and excused when they are rationally
accounted for, and when, perhaps, in
looking toward the future, we shall see
reason to hope that in time they may
totally disappear. Regarded in this
light, woman will be more thoroughly
understood and perhaps more consider-
ately judged; whereas were this view to
become the common one, nine-tenths of
all the speculative and, for the most

MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

399

part, inane literature about woman would
become obsolete.

The chief points to be touched upon
are those which are commonly argued to
the derogation of woman by her male
critics. These are, generally, woman's
curiosity, her intense and spontaneous
spite against other women, her inordin-
ate vanity of person, her jealousy, her
cruelty, her physical ugliness as com-
pared with man, her tendency to tell
lies, her inability in the arts and sci-
ences and her complete want of that
sense of justice which is so delicate and
far-seeing in man.

These are the principal counts in the
indictment against woman. There are
others, such as her lack of reasoning
power, her loquacity, her love of scan-
dal-monging, her utter unreliability as
a testimonial witness, and her general
and constant practice of deceit. But
these, I think, are corollary in nature,
and will be cleared up with the points
mentioned above.

As to woman's curiosity, it may be
said at the outset that she is not so
curious, by an infinite measure, as is
man himself. Women, it is true, are
persistently and assiduously curious; but
men also are not only persistently and
assiduously, but patiently and systematic-
ally curious. It is the character of
female curiosity that makes it appar-
ently contemptible. Scientific men of
every kind have no raison d'etre for their
infinitely patient research save pure curi-
osity alone; and their curiosity has no
more purpose in it than has the curiosity
of the woman who cannot rest until she
finds out all discoverable facts about her
neighbors, or the cause of a mysterious
sound by night.

These two forms of curiosity, the male
and the female, originated no doubt in
the early needs of the race long before
men appeared on the earth. The male
animal is interested in the causes of re-
mote things — things which, upon being
run down, might turn out useful for food

purposes. The female is interested in
the quick investigation of near and small
things which may turn out a menace to
the lives of her young. The female
watches with intense and lively interest
the vicinity of the nest or lair; the male
is prompted to look abroad — away from
the lair, in or toward fields where his
daily prey is found. These two kinds
of curiosity were among the most potent
instruments in the struggle for racial
existence and in the ultimate develop-
ment of man.

With man's greater growth came per-
fect security for his young and perfect
assurance of food. But the old instinct
of curiosity, without which the race
would probably have been destroyed
ages ago and before the development of
man, has not been eliminated, and there
it is today in all its strength, but with
no obviously practical use.

An irresistible passion for investiga-
tion into remote causes characterizes the
man; and an equally irresistible passion
for the investigation of near causes char-
acterizes the woman. The complete in-
utility of pure science is often a text
for some perfectly fatuous sermon. The
pursuit of science is perfectly purpose-
less apart from the gratification of pure
curiosity. And no worse can be said of
the curiosity of women. If she is- con-
cerned with personal affairs and with
matters (in man's view) of no import-
ance whatsoever, it is only because her
remote female ancestors have passed
down to her a trait which, in its own
time, had uses the most important of all.

The above philosophical and wholly
rational theory of woman's curiosity
should, perhaps, lead us to suspect a
somewhat similar cause for that remark-
able mystery of woman's "spite" for
woman. There is no denying that
women are almost ferocious in this
respect. I have seen the eyes of women
gleam with "feline ferocity" when look-
ing at other women — in certain circum-
stances. I have seen overpowering rage

400

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

and hate upon their faces; and, if put
to it, the average woman could not tell
you why, any more than she could give
you a rational theory for her curiosity,
were she rational enough to admit its
existence, the which she could not in
any conceivable circumstances be.

This powerful instinct in woman is
almost altogether wanting in man — the
pale reflection of it persisting in man
is the quick enmity he feels when, living
in a lonely place, he sees a strange man
approaching his abode. The strange
animal there was wont, in long-passed
ages, to spell danger. With the female
the danger was terrifying and certain;
for the instinct of many females is to
kill the young of other females.

Here, then, you have the ancient in-
stinct surviving in full force, whereas its
value in preserving the race (what zool-
ogists call "selective value") has dis-
appeared. In the long evolution of the
human race nothing occurred to elimin-
ate this once highly useful and preserva-
tive instinct, while the need of it in the
preservation of the species disappeared
ages ago. It is hence an anomaly which
is often made the butt of ridicule and
scorn by shallow men, who understand
neither themselves nor the causes that
have made them what they are.

More subtle is the intense dislike
which "plain" women have for prettier
ones — that is to say, when men are con-
cerned. But this dislike is obviously
traceable to the same cause as the gen-
eral instinct itself. It is the old instinct
appearing in various forms, the instinct
venting itself on the thing nearest at
hand. You find it cropping out in mat-
ters of dress. The intense scorn or
contempt which women can express for
the dress of other women is really fetch-
ing— a most "beautiful" illustration of
the theoretical view here indicated. And
bound up with this very matter is the
still more subtle instinct of jealousy and
its apparently incomprehensible mystery,
in women.

Women, generally, objurgate with
expressive silence, or voluminous lo-
quacity, the woman among them wh»
is particularly attractive to men; while
their uncompromising and relentless
condemnation of the so-called "erring
sister" is a commonplace theme for all
sorts of preachers. Woman's jealousy,
proverbially, is vented on the other
woman and never on the man, for
whom, on the contrary, she invariably
finds an excuse which, while perfectly
irrational and sophistical, is entirely
satisfactory to herself.

Now, when we remember the very
marked difference between the male
and the female in these peculiar traits,
it will appear that the traits themselves
must be traceable to some remote cause
in the life history of the race, having
a strong bearing on the condition of the
female and none at all on the condition
of the male. Assuming this to be the
fact, the cause will perhaps be found in
the general instinct of enmity of female
for female inherited from ancient female
ancestors, who by it were enabled to
protect their young. For when the male
of the human species is roused to jeal-
ousy he invariably wreaks his enmity on
the offending woman. It is quite true
that he sometimes punishes the offend-
ing man; but the woman is invariably
cast off. Men quite frequently kill
women who reject them, but seldom kill
the successful suitor. When jealous
women, however, resort to killing, in
similar circumstances, it is the woman
they kill, never the man. These per-
plexing things become clear if we ac-
count for them by that ancient instinct
of the female to slay the strange female,
whose own instinct, rising from a com-
mon cause, impelled her to slay the young
of others.

The mother guards her offspring; the
father, in the case of mammals, most
frequently is the food provider. These
homely facts, when interpreted in the
light of the social evolution of man, ex-

MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

401

plain, it would seem, the somewhat
marked differences in many of the men-
tal traits of the two sexes. To a similar
if not the self-same cause can we at-
tribute the traditional cruelty of step-
mothers. The stepfather is seldom un-
kind. On the contrary he is often de-
voted, even when he has offspring of his
own with the mother of his stepchild.

But if women possess the ancient
instinct of destruction toward other
females, they also, and for the same
reason, have rather ferocious enmity for
all persons guilty of heinous crime.
Their first impulse is to have the vicious
ones drawn, quartered, or "shredded,"
and always without trial. Reaction carries
them to the opposite extreme whereby
the most vicious (male) persons would
probably be acquitted were juries com-
posed of women, with a male attorney
for the defence. Female offenders would
probably be condemned at the rate of
100 per cent. A good lawyer could
secure conviction of every woman ac-
cused— before a jury of women. Men
have the keenest sympathy with men.
Women have no sympathy whatosever
with women. I speak generally, of
course.

The above described traits of woman
were doubtless developed in the pre-
human stage of the race, a thing which
becomes evident when we study the
moral character of lower animals. The
moral character of the lower animal is,
it may be said, a simplified diagram of
the moral character of man — male and
female alike. And it must be confessed
that, in many respects, the absence of
certain curious lines in the simplified
diagram is much to the moral advantage
of the latter.

Women, however, have certain traits
which have been produced and de-
veloped by the social nature of human
life. And these, perhaps, are the more
interesting for the reason that these
traits may, by the further evolution of
human society, be changed for the bet-

ter, or altogether wiped out, as human
society becomes more rational and free
with the general diffusion of wealth and
education.

Woman's physical ugliness, for ex-
ample, as compared with man, may in
the future be considerably mollified;
may, indeed, be replaced by positive
physical beauty as compared with man,
under certain conditions of wealth which
would give woman the choice of her
mate, without at the same time disturb-
ing the present choice as it exists with
men. I mean perfectly equal choice in-
stead of the one-sided system now gen-
erally prevailing.

The beauty of the human female has
increased steadily under the system of
selection in which men have the higher
choice. Men prefer the prettier women.
With lower animals, where the choice
lies wholly with the female, the beauty
of the male is quite superior — the female
is comparatively ugly. With humans the
beauty of the female has improved be-
cause the economic power of the male
has for ages enabled him to do the
selecting. The result is that the dis-
parity between the sexes in the matter
of beauty is not so great as in the lower
animals, but it is still great. Could
women become the equal of men in
power of selection the beauty of the
male would actually improve, because
the ugly men who now are enabled to
win wives because of their power to
provide, would be wiped out, thus rais-
ing the beauty-level of both sexes. On
the other hand, the continued freedom
of selection on the part of men would
go on constantly increasing the beauty
of the women. And as beauty is more
valuable in the woman than in the man,
the tendency would be toward a dispro-
portionate increase in female beauty. I
mean that men prize beauty in women
more highly than women prize *it in men.
Women can love ugly men for other
traits; men seldom love ugly women, no
matter what their other traits may be.

402

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

I speak, of course, about the average.

Another trait which is peculiarly a
product of social forces, is the tendency
of women to tell lies. When I say lies,
I mean deliberate lies — the practice of
deceit. I fancy that old women are not
as great liars or deceivers as young and
middle - aged women. At one time
women were hairy, and Darwin ingen-
iously accounts for the comparative de-
pilation of women. But it would seem
that hair is a concomitant of maturity —
that hair, on the face particularly, is
a mark of more complete nervous de-
velopment— in the case of man, of
course. So that in selecting hairless
women our ancestors at the same time
retarded the nervous development of
the female and left her with a closer
resemblance to the child than was re-
tained by the male.

Women are simpler - minded, more
child-like, more impulsive, more savage,
than men; therefore they are greater
liars and deceivers than men, and much
greater lovers of hyperbole. A New
York judge, not long ago, announced
from the bench that he would not be-
lieve a woman under oath — an opinion
which was the result of years of experi-
ence.

Woman's incompetence in the arts
and sciences is due altogether, one can
reasonably argue, because of this very
retardation of her nervous, or cerebral
development, imposed upon her by the
free choice of selection practised by man
through force of his superior economic
strength. When women compete with
men in the arts and sciences they work
with the undeveloped brain and hands
of the child. Physically weaker than
men — in mere brute strength as well as
in cunning of mind and hand — they can
never hope to equal the products of the
male in the mighty works which require
physical strength for the doing of them.
They are as children; and as children
they must remain as long as men desire
in their mates the soft, smooth cheek,

the clear, tender chin, the silky, long
hair which make woman and child alike.

There have been women of great men-
tal power, but they were not women of
greatly desirable physical beauty, and
most of them had hairy faces. "There
are no women of genius," said the in-
genuous Goncourt. "All women of
genius are men."

And we may vary Goncourt's opinion
by saying that there are no women re-
formers, all women reformers being men.
This brings us back to the postulate con-
cerning the lack in women of that sense
of equal justice which is so delicate and
far-reaching in the male of the human
species.

All the reforms that have made epochs
in human social history have been the
work of men. Women, here and there,
have assisted, have lent their feeble
voices to the general masculine roar, but
these women have invariably been mas-
culine women. The woman with con-
spicuous hair on her face, with a strong
sense of justice, who sets her foot down
firmly, who has a "good voice" and can
make "a fine speech" — what is she but
a lesser man? She is rightly (from a
physiological point of view) called a
"strong-minded" woman. Such a
woman is a reversion to the woman of
old — the hairy woman who selected her
mate from among contending males.
She is reversive and atavistic, physic-
ally, and shall we say in advance of her
sex, mentally and ethically?

If we could imagine that such a type
of woman would survive, multiply and
displace the immature, undeveloped,
childlike and unethical woman so much
preferred by men, we could easily fancy
that the female of our species would ulti-
mately replace the male in all those
functions of industry, art and science
which are now peculiarly his own. The
fact that woman is physically and men-
tally inferior to man does not imply that
she could not, in certain easily imagin-
able circumstances, become physically

MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

403

and mentally his superior. Some female
spiders are fifty or sixty times the size
of the male, which is a mere physio-
logical adjunct to his spouse, having no
place or part in spider industry. Power-
ful, intelligent women could do as much
and as great physical and mental labor
as men have done. Not many genera-
tions would be required to produce a
race of women in physical and mental
comparison with whom men could be
conceived as being insignificant, idle
instruments for the maintenance of the
race. Man is the master now. Will he
remain so?

Probably yes; — if the strong-minded,
hairy-faced, able-bodied, healthy woman

can find no way of alluring him from
her doll -faced, simple-minded, "in-
ferior" sister. Probably no; — if she
can find such a way. In the develop-
ment of races the most insignificant
touch of circumstance often sets up a
most rapid flux which produces, in a few
generations, the most amazing cumula-
tion of effects. Who knows but that
some such impetus may give the strong-
minded woman the advantage, and carry
her on to the "high destiny" of which
she has so fondly dreamed?

The future state of woman hangs, one
may say, on a hair — in the literal as well
as in the metaphorical meaning of the
word.

THE OLD GODS AND THE NEW

By Ernest McGaffey

Author of "Poems," "Sonnets to a Wife," "Cosmos"

LEWISTOWN, ILLINOIS

IN the twilight of the ages
Where the dust of years lies dead,
Wrinkled over Seers and Sages
Since the centuries have sped,
Stand the wraiths of unattended
Gods who once were called sublime,
Even in their ruin splendid
Mocking and defying Time.

In the wake of winds that follow
Fast along the path of man,
Comes an echo of Apollo,
Floats the reedy note of Pan,
And a clearer tone is ringing
Mid the clashing of the spheres,
And a wilder flight is winging
Through the vistas of the years.

And from out the ocean mighty
High above the coral caves,
Rises Venus Aphrodite
Throned and sceptered by the waves,
While the horn of Neptune winding
In the night's recumbent noon.
Scatters music o'er the blinding
Silver pathway of the moon.

So the old gods were most human,
More like song, and life, and wine,
Touched to love-words by a woman,
Mortal half and half divine;
And the later gods we fashion
For their loss have not sufficed,
No! not even the compassion
And the great white soul of Christ.

SMATHER'S TRAVELING NEWSPAPER

By Paul Cook

BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA

AFFAIRS looked ominous for the
ticket in the state. Both sides were
claiming a victory in public, but in
secret councils of the party the demo-
crats were doubtful, and it was whis-
pered around that unless some unex-
pected reversion of opinion took place
they would be hopelessly defeated and
the chances of their national candidate
would be in jeopardy.

High-priced spellbinders had stumped
the state, talking loudly and long of
republican mistakes and the great things
the democrats would do when they as-
sumed the reins of power, but it was
very hard to start enthusiasm. Voters
were strangely apathetic. Democratic
papers were also boosting the candi-
dates with might and main, but in the
various sanctums it was known that
chances of victory were exceedingly
slim'. As a matter of fact, the demo-
crats had barely a ghost of a show, but
they kept up the fight gamely and in
the very face of defeat were claiming a
walkover.

An important caucus was held in the
office of Chairman Smathers of the state
executive committee. Leading poli-
ticians of the state were there discuss-
ing the last expedients for a rally, but
there was little hope exhibited in the
countenances of the gentlemen seated
about a heavy oaken table, puffing great
clouds of tobacco smoke to the ceiling.
All realized that unless someone was
inspired by a new and wonderfully effec-
tive scheme for waking up the voters,
the battle would be lost.

At the end of a discouraged and dis-
couraging talk by a prominent banker
from the northern part of the state,
Chairman Smathers arose. with a deter-
mined look. His colleagues were sur-

prised to note a sparkle in his eye and
an air of confidence which they could
not assume.

"How much campaign fund have we
remaining at our disposal?" he asked.

"One hundred and fifty thousand,
which could be increased, I suppese, if
necessary," answered the treasurer de-
jectedly. "The national committee has
promised us aid."

"Gentlemen," said Smathers, a trace
of subdued eagerness in his voice, "I
have a scheme that I believe will do
the work, but it will take every cent in
our treasury and maybe more."

"What is it?" asked several at once.

"Well," answered Smathers, "it will
be useless for our speakers to stump the
state again, and I propose that we stir
up the people by a traveling newspaper
to be used solely as a campaign trum-
pet. Just wait a minute," he exclaimed,
as several started to speak, "and I will
explain my plan. As you all know, I
have been president of the Banner Pub-
lishing Company for the past fifteen
years and understand the business pretty
well. Now I propose to charter a special
train, equip it with a first class news-
paper plant, and during the next month
carry it to every town of five thousand
population and over in the state, boom-
ing our candidates for all they are worth.
I believe it is possible to reach all the
larger towns on the railroads without
any trouble. After studying the map of
the various systems I find that it will be
a comparatively easy matter to take our
train over these lines. When we have
covered one part of the state, we can
have our special transferred to another
road and continue the campaign. Of
course this will be rather expensive, but
I believe it ': our only chance to win.

SMATHER'S TRAVELING NEWSPAPER

405

Now the paper will be the Banner, and
I propose to issue it every morning in
a different town, but it will be the
'traveling' edition. We could not afford
to neglect our- patrons while conducting
a campaign 'razzle-dazzle,' so the paper
will have to be issued at Everettville
each morning, as in the past. A special
train of eleven cars would do the work.
That would give us one coach for the
editorial room, one for the type-setting
machines, one for the make-up men,
a car for the stereotypers, a press car,
a mailing car, a car for paper and sup-
plies, a diner, two sleepers and a power
car for transporting our dynamo.
Some of these cars will have to be built
to order, but the rest could easily be
chartered from. a railroad company.

"Now these are all the details I can
give you just now, but I promise to have
everything arranged in two weeks.
What do you think of the scheme?"

Twelve prominent politicians sat spell-
bound about the table as Smathers un-
folded his plans. Not a man moved,
not one interrupted with a word, and all
forgot to smoke.

"Why," said Rutherford, a banker
from Russellville, "the plan's simply
great. It will cost like fury, but what
do we care for that? I can raise a hun-
dred thousand in a week, and if this
don't wake up the people, nothing will
do it."

So the matter was decided then and
there. Smathers was given free rein
to carry out his scheme, and was fur-
nished the entire campaign fund, with
promise of more in case he should run
short. Smathers immediately set to
work like a Trojan, having secured the
assistance of a large corps of lieuten-
ants. As several corporations of na-
tional importance were interested in the
victory of the democrats he was not
afraid to spend money in large chunks.
The sleepers, dining car, editorial,
power, storage, mailing and make-up
cars were easily provided, but the press

car, machine car and stereotyping car
proved a more difficult problem. How-
ever, a large car-manufacturing plant was
located just thirty miles from Everett-
ville, and the remaining cars were turned
out under rush orders in four days. A
press that had been used by the Banner
before it attained to greatness was in-
stalled in a car built for its reception,
and six linotype machines were set up
in another car. When the dynamo was
ready for use the cars were connected
with feed wires, display type, ink,
matrices, paper and all the other neces-
sities of a complete newspaper plant
were bundled aboard, and the train was
ready.

Smathers himself was to be editor-in-
chief, with a staff of seven men — an edi-
torial writer, an utility man, a telegraph
editor and four reporters. Six linotype
operators, two case men, a foreman and
an assistant foreman, three stereotypers,
a pressman and two assistants, two por-
ters for the sleeping cars, an electrician
to look after the dynamo and keep the
wiring of the train in order, a chef and
three waiters for the dining car, two
proof-readers, galley boy, copy boy, two
mailing clerks and a force of fifteen
newsboys, with a circulation man to
look after them, completed the force
which Smathers engaged. There would
be no business department, since all
advertising contracts had already been
made at the home office of the Banner.
The expense account promised to be
enormous, but money was no considera-
tion just then.

Smathers decide that he would travel
from one town to another in the daytime
and get out the 'paper at night, as it was
to be a morning daily. He calculated
that he would map out his itinerary like
that of a circus and so arrange his
schedule that he could spend the night
in the town where he wanted his paper
to appear.

Of course rumors of Smathers' stupen-
dous project got abroad and created an

406

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

immense sensation. It was derided by
many papers, extolled by others and dis-
cussed by the entire country. In the
meantime the Banner was being widely
advertised. The scheme was talked
about from one end of the land to the
other and its failure was confidently pre-
dicted by the leading republican organ,
but Smathers was undaunted, and con-
tinued his preparations with character-
istic vigor.

The itinerary, practically covering the
state and including dates extending
through one month, was at last arranged.
It was proposed to print in full the
speeches of all the campaign orators
every morning. These would be sent
by wire to the town where the news-
paper special happened to be on the
night when they were delivered.

The day for departure arrived. With
much ceremony, amid the blare of whis-
tles and the waving of flags, Smathers'
traveling newspaper rolled out from
Everettville at nine o'clock in the morn-
ing, and by three in the afternoon had
reached Downdale, the first stop. En-
route Smathers and his assistant had
been busily engaged in writing some
spirited editorials. He intended to make
the editorial page strong, so he put all
the fire of a vigorous personality into the
attacks which he made on the opposite
party.

As soon as the special arrived at
Downdale it was side-tracked. The four
"star" reporters carried along by Smath-
ers got out into town to "dig up" some
choice local "stories," the electrician
inspected the train to see that the power
car and wiring were both in order, while
the remainder of the force that would
not be engaged until night strolled about
town. The arrival of Smathers' train
had been awaited with impatience by
the people, a large crowd of them being
at the station when the special drew
up. Soon the advent of the travel-
ing newspaper was known far and wide
and the citizens were in a fever to

know how the first issue would look.

Promptly at seven o'clock that evening
the power was turned on, the machine
men began work on a good run of edi-
torial-page copy, the reporters dropped
in one at a time, saying they had
very good luck, considering the fact
that they were in a new town, and the
making of a first class ten-page daily
paper was begun. The democrats in
each town were expected to render all
the assistance possible in advertising
the Banner's traveling edition, and in
helping the reporters to get up local
news, which was to deal chiefly with
political matters in the town.

Messenger boys began to arrive, bear-
ing dispatches telling of the progress of
the campaign in various parts of the
state and giving verbatim reports of the
speeches delivered that day and night.
Down at the home office of the Banner,
Torrey, an expert telegraph editor, was
working like a fiend to condense the
most important telegraphic news coming
in over the Associated Press wire and
send it by telegraph to the telegraph edi-
tor at Downdale. This special service
was rather expensive, but money was
plentiful, and before starting Smathers
had closed all the advertising contracts
he could handle for a month, at fancy
prices.

The reporters also turned in some
local "stories" that had snap about
them and were destined to prove very
acceptable reading matter, to the sur-
prise of citizens of Downdale the next
morning. At eleven o'clock Smathers
rubbed his hands together in quiet sat-
isfaction. Affairs were running as
smoothly as if he were getting out the
regular edition of the Banner at home.

Promptly at twelve o'clock the stereo-
typers reported that everything was
ready in their department and began
to receive the forms. A constant stream
of messenger boys soon brought to the
editorial car more than enough copy to
make up a readable first page, the fore-

SMATHER'S TRAVELING NEWSPAPER

407

man got along swimmingly in the com-
posing room, and promptly at three
o'clock the press was running smoothly
and printing the first edition of The
Traveling Banner.

In the mailing room all was hurry and
bustle. Smathers was going to send out
the paper broadcast over the state to
all the regular exchanges and the news-
dealers. To do this it was necessary to
catch the early morning train out of
Downdale, a feat that was easily accom-
plished by the experienced mail clerks
whom Smathers had employed.

At five o'clock the force of newsboys
were waking the echoes in the streets
with their shrill cries and by six o'clock
the papers were going like hot cakes at
five cents a copy. Every man, woman
and child in town tried to get one, and
Smathers received some fabulous offers
for advertising space. At nine o'clock
the tired night workers were sleeping
comfortably in their Pullman berths, the
newsboys had been recalled, Downdale
had been blanketed with the Banner's
traveling edition and the newspaper
special was flying toward Throckton, a
hustling town 120 miles distant. When
this place was reached the same program
was successfully repeated.

When the first edition of The Travel-
ing Banner was received in various parts
of the state it created the greatest
sensation in the history of national
journalism. Smathers found himself
a famous man.

Papers in all parts of the country de-
voted columns to the unique venture,
describing life on the newspaper special.
In addition to the interest awakened by
the novelty of the scheme Smathers'
brilliant editorials and the buoyant tone
of the campaign dispatches began to
have their effect on voters. The Ban-
ner's traveling edition was the most
widely read paper in the state, and if
Smathers had cared to build up a circu-
lation list, he would have been swamped.
Slowly the tide began to set for the
democrats.

One month had passsed away. Smath-
ers' ticket had scored a sweeping victory
— thanks to the famous newspaper spe-
cial— and he had just succeeded in dis-
posing of the plant at small loss. Not
a single mishap had marred the special's
tour Of the state. Smathers, feeling
properly jubilant, was standing in Can-
non's "place" in Everettville telling a
party of friends how it happened.

"Well, boys," he said at the conclu-
sion of his story, "we did the trick. Our
man has been elected, and I have just
succeeded in getting the newspaper
special off my hands. The Banner's cir-
culation has been increased to 150,000
through the advertising it received from
the traveling edition, and I have on
hand about $75,000, proceeds of the sale
of the plant after settling up outstanding
obligations, which I shall return to the
treasurer. Gentlemen, what will you
have?"

INDIVIDUALS

* By Walt Whitman

I 1NDERNEATH all, individuals!

*^ I swear nothing is good to me now that ignores individuals,

The American compact is altogether with individuals,

The whole theory of the universe is directed to one single individual — namely, to You.

— From "Marches Nmv the War Is Over."

BEAUTIES OF THE AMERICAN STAGE

By Helen Arthur

NEW YORK CITY

XXVI

ETHEL BARRYMORE

ON one of the snow-blizzard days in
New York I went to a matinee of
"The Twin Sister," a play in which
Charles Richman and Margaret Anglin
had leading roles. In the orchestra
there were twenty persons, perhaps, and
not a soul in the boxes, next to one of
which I sat. Just as the curtain rose,
a tall girl came into it alone. She was
all in brown and she wore the loveliest
furs. I remember how quietly she sat
and that I almost bowed to her, so
familiar was her face and manner. She
applauded each player's entrance and
really gave an air of festivity to what
had promised to be a dreary matinee.
In the old Weber-Fieldian days, on
Tuesday afternoons, she could often be
seen watching, with interested eyes, the
dancing of her friend Bonnie Magin.
To Miss Barrymore's fine freedom from
self-consciousness Carlotta Nilsson owes
a great debt. Miss Nilsson had just
met with much success playing Mrs.
Elvsted in Mrs. Fiske's production of
"Hedda Gabler," and was putting on,
for one performance, an impossible play
called "Love's Pilgrimage." It told the
usual story of a wronged girl, her child,
and her revenge. The piece had been
put on hurriedly, but somehow you felt
that Carlotta Nilsson's whole soul was
in the thing. Everywhere there was that
air of tension, the sort that a- mishap
might turn into a laugh, a nervous laugh,
to be sure, but one that would as surely
spoil the entire effect. Once, but for
Ethel Barrymore, this would have hap-
pened. The Gerry society had forbidden
the appearance of babies on the stage,
and Miss Nilsson was forced to use a

"property" child, and one so palpably
a "rag-baby" that it would not have
been remarkable if an audience had
been moved to laughter by it. The pathos
of the play had gotten over the foot-
lights and reached Miss Barrymore, to
whom Miss Nilsson's art had made all
things real, and there, forgetful of every-
thing save the sad little heroine, Miss
Barrymore put her own brown head on
the rail of her box and sobbed and
sobbed. At the end of the scene, Miss
Barrymore's tear-stained face was per-
haps the greatest tribute Miss Nilsson
received, and the audience had followed
her lead.

Again I saw Ethel Barrymore change
the whole aspect of a performance. It
was at a testimonial tendered to Joseph
Holland ; dozens and dozens of fam-
ous players were participating. The
whole affair, to be a success, depended
upon creating an air of good-fellowship,
for most of the actors were playing New
York engagements, and had little or no
time for preparation. There was a
prompter somewhere behind the scenes
and he was called into service continu-
ally, which in itself did not make for
smoothness. Miss Barrymore forgot her
lines — the prompter gave them to her.
She couldn't hear him — he repeated
them, and when she missed them a
second time. Miss Barrymore turned in
his direction and said: "Please give me
my lines. I've come all the way from
Chicago to say them and I mean to."

These are the things which endear
Ethel Barrymore to the public. Her
work as an actress is improving so
rapidly that one has a feeling that she
is a genius. I saw her Nora in Ibsen's
"A Doll's House," and it was very real
to me. She had never seen the play

ETHEL BARRYMORE

(409)

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

HENRIETTA CROSMAN

Photograph by Barony, New York

BEAUTIES OF THE AMERICAN STAGE

411

performed by others, and her conception
of the part was quite her own.

The man to whom Ethel Barrymore is
engaged is Captain Harry Graham, and
with the dedication lines of his latest
book I think this little sketch may fitly
end:

"One single favor do I crave

Which is that you regard my pen

As your devoted, humble slave ;
Most fortunate shall I be then
Of mortal men.

For what more happiness insures

Than work in service such as yours ?"

XXVII
HENRIETTA CROSMAN

Miss Crosman is very proud of her
military ancestry. Her grandfather
was a general during the Civil war, her
uncle a classmate of Admiral Dewey's
and her father a major in our regular
army.

When she was a young girl, Miss
Crosman' s family suffered reverses and
she had to consider ways and means of
earning her own living. She had a re-
markable soprano voice and her parents
had been advised to send her to Paris
to have it cultivated. There was no
way that this could be done except to
mortgage the home, so mortgaged it was,
and the girl, only sixteen, at the time,
with her mother started for France. She
progressed rapidly and her hopes were
high, when, by some unexplained mis-
hap, her singing voice failed.

Then it happened that an uncle of

hers got her a chance to meet the man-
ager of the Pittsburg Opera House, and
timid little Henrietta walked out on that
big stage with just two men for an audi-
ence and recited the balcony scene from
"Romeo and Juliet." Badly as she prob-
ably did it, her talent was unmis-
takable, and she secured a position
with a road company. By the hardest
kind of work, the twenty-four-hours-a-day
kind, she got a New York engagement
at Daly's. Clever she certainly was,
but professional jealousy made her life
a burden to her, and she went back to
stock work in Pittsburg at the same
theater where she had recited so long
ago. Often when ideas occurred to her
she would arise from bed at one or two
in the morning and work them out then
and there. Then domestic unhappiness
forced a separation upon her and again
she went her own way alone.

By chance the manuscript of "Mis-
tress Nell" came into her hands, but it
belonged to the playwright, who himself
was poor and needed to sell it. It is
a long story, the one relating to her
steadfast belief in the play, her purchase
of it, the opening night in New York
with just fifty-seven dollars paid admis-
sions, then its tremendous success; but
it is pleasant to remember that since
that time Miss Crosman has had one
triumph after another. The critics have
lauded her "Rosalind," the public has
packed the theater month after month
to see her "Sweet Kitty Bellairs," and
now her new play, "Mary, Mary, Quite
Contrary," is adding to her laurels.

THE REPUBLIC

By Walt Whitman

take finish, but the Republic is ever constructive, and ever keeps vista;
Others adorn the past — but you, O days of the present, I adorn you !
O days of the future, I believe in you ! I isolate myself for your sake ;
America, because you build for mankind, I build for you !

**##***
Bravas to all impulses sending sane children to the next age !

But damn that which spends itself, with no thought of the stain, pains, dismay, feebleness it
is bequeathing. — From "Marches Now the War Is Over "

AND THE MAN SAID: "THE WOMAN

By Florence Edith Austin

WOODSTOCK, ILLINOIS

THE judge had taken his seat upon
the bench, prepared to weigh a
human soul in the balance; the oppos-
ing attorneys were in place; a venire of
unhappy-looking men had been brought
in -from whom to cull a jury; and the
sheriff had paid unconscious tribute to
William the Conqueror by crying the
court open with an "Oyez".

The court room was crowded with the
usual motley medley — some drawn thither
by a feverish interest in the prisoner, the
majority by that fascination of the horri-
ble that lies at the back of so many of
our minds.

From the chaste, temple-like walls the
busts of Moses, Solomon, Solon and
Lycurgus looked down with judicial,
interlocutory countenances upon the
prisoner, who, a few yesterdays ago,
was only an ordinary, obscure medical
student, but had suddenly become a
national character — his name had
trickled even into foreign countries
with the chronicling of another Ameri-
can atrocity.

While the charge against the prisoner
was read out by the clerk, the audience
scrutinized the young man, dissected
his face, as it were, strove to probe his
mind, to search out, from the demeanor
of the man, a possible motive.

There were none of the common ear-
marks of the criminal about the accused.
His was an essentially attractive face,
and he possessed a manner of poise, of
sureness, of ability, that prepossessed all
in his fayor; while the keen gaze with
which he scanned the panel showed him
a student of mankind. ^

As his eyes rested analytically upon
one of the men deemed "worthy", there
came into them a flash of recognition,
and he whispered eagerly to his counsel,

who, in turn, took a sudden interest in
this person singled out by his client.
And by those manipulations known to
the legal fraternity, the attorney so man-
aged matters that when the jurors were
impaneled this man was first choice of
both prosecution and defense and hence
foreman of the twelve.

Then followed the arraignment by the
attorney for the state, whose accusation
against the prisoner as the murderer of
his brother by marriage and his par-
amour was one of the most sensational
and impassioned ever calculated to carry
Conviction to a Chicago jury. The
hearers shuddered, struck to their very
souls, but the countenance of the ac-
cused flashed back only indignant de-
nial.

"Nothing is so terrible as man," pro-
logued the prosecuting counsel. ''Each
havoc of nature is immediately eclipsed
by some self-devastation of humanity.
The wrath of God is easily outdone by
human wreckage that lies at the door of
man himself. Earthquake and fire and
flood and storm cannot compare with the
red records of war, of racial persecution,
or the savagery of man.

"The greatest and vilest of human
crimes is murder — the pushing of a
human soul out of life in haste, all
unprepared. And the circumstances
under which these two lives were taken
could not be surpassed in the days of
Sodom. Revenge was undoubtedly the
basis of the whole plot — revenge was the
germ that created this case.

"Why the murdered man should have
deserted a wife like the sister of the
accused, how he could cast aside this
high-bred, beautiful, gracious and virtu-
ous woman to form a liaison with such
a person as the one he was found slain

AND THE MAN SAID: "THE WOMAN

413

beside, is one of the mysteries of the
heart which none of us can explain.

"But the fact remains that this dead
man had made the ten commandments
into one, 'Thou shalt not covet thy neigh-
bor's wife — in vain.' Hence, gentlemen
of the jury, it is conceivable that the
prisoner was incited to avenge the insult
to his sister by compassing the death of
the person who had deserted her for
another woman. But I will proceed to
prove to you that this man had a more
impelling motive, a vendetta of his own
to work out. Gentlemen, you may with
impunity wound a man in his pride, you
may venture to do injury to those he
loves as his life; but aim a blow at that
man's possessions, his money, and you
have a dangerous person to reckon with.

"Yes, gentlemen, this dead man had
fallen so low as to rob his wife of her
patrimony to give to this wanton woman;
he had pauperized his children and also
had embezzled the fortune of the ac-
cused, the while cleverly keeping himself
beyond the reach of the law.

"These, gentlemen, were the incen-
tives of the crime; and the chain of evi-
dence is so clear, so unbroken, so con-
vincing, that the calling of the witnesses
is but little more than a legal formality
to prove the prisoner a wrathful, hot-
blooded avenger."

And when the case for the state was
concluded there had been fitted and
matched and mortised as complete a
structure of fact as ever shut erring mor-
tal in.

At length the attorney for the defense
arose, and in the excited silence that
held the crowded court room enthralled,
he began :

"You have heard my brother of the
bar give his hypothesis of this crime,
but I beg of you, gentlemen of the jury,
not to confound theory with evidence.
I wish that I could prove to you, as my
client has proven to me, that he had no
more to do with the moral bearings of
this case than the handmaid of the

Levite, whose body was cut into pieces
and sent to the twelve tribes of Israel,
had to do with the destruction of Gibeah.
My client was but the sport of events; a
broken vow was the cause. Evil wreaks
punishment upon itself — that is the law.

"If the happenings of the night of
December twelve could be passed before
you in kinetoscopic view, they would
show you a triply injured, diabolically
duped man, and a woman who should
have been a sister to the Borgias. No
mind can conceive of incidents so
strange, so inexplicable, so appalling
as those of actual occurrence. My best,
my only witness is my client; and with
the permission of the court I will ask
him to take the stand. He, and he
alone can give to you the true and pecul-
iar facts of the case. Gentlemen of the
jury, there is no one to combat his testi-
mony— and in the eyes of the law his
given word is as good as any man's pri-
vate opinion."

As the young man mounted to the
witness stand, the atmosphere of the
court room seemed to undergo a sud-
den change, and to be dominated by
his personality. For a while he stood
silent and irresolute, the color rising to
his still boyish face, and his eyes wan-
dered in obvious embarrassment over
the tiers of staring people, over the
judge, the jury, to rest at length with
beseeching insistence on the foreman of
the twelve, who, in response, leaned for-
ward, and, in that wordless telegraphy
of which the eye is capable, conveyed
to him a message that only the prisoner
could interpret. But upon that hint he
spoke in a strong, tense voice, fearlessly
and fearfully earnest.

"Your honor, gentlemen of the jury,
I want to cry before the world my inno-
cence. I want to shout the facts to the
universe, — to send through you the shud-
der that convulses me, so that everybody
may be made to feel that the one who
committed this crime is not I who
stand before you accused.

414

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

"I admit that my sister and myself
have been deeply injured, past mercy
and past forgiveness, and I do not deny
a scheme of revenge. But I would not
have killed my enemy. Death defeats
revenge. I would have had him live. I
would have let him know what it was
to have people look askance at him, to
feel the thousand little slights that can
be put on the misdoer; to be set forever
beyond the pale of society. That, gen-
tlemen of the jury, is the revenge that
kills the soul and saps what little joy
there may be in life.

"But of blood guiltiness I can only
protest my innocence and ask you, gen-
tlemen of the jury, to weigh my story
carefully and impartially and apply to
it your conscientious and deliberate
judgment. All I ask is for you to con-
sider my irreproachable past, my un-
questioned integrity, except for that
single hour for which I now have to
account.

"The history of that one hour has a
wealth of fact and circumstance. Every
fact and every circumstance was created
by one woman, and I was made the vic-
tim of these circumstances created by
her. I merely brought into sway the
facts started by her — facts for which
she alone was responsible. And being
merely a dupe, a tool, I cannot explain
these facts — I can merely give my inter-
pretation, since they can never be ex-
plained, refuted or contradicted, for she,
their creator, is dead.

"Before God I swear that I was
simply an unlucky devil whose only
crime was that of being out late at
night. It came about in this wise.
Since the opening of this last semester
it has been the custom of three of my
fellow students to drop into my room
each evening for a relaxing game of
cards. This evening nine o'clock came,
but none of my chums. It grew to be
ten, eleven, half past, and still not one
of them appeared. Then, arriving at the
conclusion that they must have received

information of an unexpected clinic, but
had neglected to notify me, and also
feeling the need of a breath of the night
air, I quit study and started for the hos-
pital.

"The streets were almost empty of
foot passengers, and I strode along en-
joying the freshness and the quiet of the
night. While I was loitering at the cor-
ner of Cottage Grove and Twenty-sixth
street, to finish my cigar, a south-bound
car stopped to let a single passenger de-
scend— a woman, conspicuous in even-
ing dress and seemingly very much
alarmed at being out alone at this un-
conventional hour. Her actions were
all calculated, I know now, to call atten-
tion to herself.

"She came across to where I stood
and looked anxiously down the street for
a cross-town car. Ordinary civility
compelled me to inform her that the owl
car had but just passed, and that it
would be an hour before another was
due.

';She turned on me a glance of startled
recognition, then hastily averted her
face, and, murmuring her thanks, started
toward Prairie avenue. She walked to
where the red walls of that great mael-
strom of misery offers shelter to suffer-
ing mankind in the name of mercy, then,
strange antithesis! right where the white
lights of the Sisters' hospital fell full
upon her, she stopped, wavered a mo-
ment in obvious indecision, then came
swiftly back to where I still stood watch-
ing after her, still forking over the old
mass of memory and seeking for her
a name. I had certainly seen her some-
where, sometime, and hers was not a
face or form to be easily forgotten.
Events would have ended differently had
memory not played me this trick. It
struck me that her pertubation was a
trifle overdone, when she came up to
me, and, with ladylike simplicity, ex-
plained that her husband, a physician,
had been summoned to a patient just as
they were leaving for an evening at the

AND THE MAN SAID: "THE WOMAN"

theater. On his promising to meet her
there, she had ventured to go alone, but
when the performance was ended and he
had failed to appear she concluded that
he was still detained with his patient,
and had started for home alone.

"The missing of the midnight car had
thrown her into a panic, she declared
with charming naivette, and would I
be so kind as to escort her to her
house which was several blocks away.
Most certainly I would — common gal-
antry required it of me. And who
among you, gentlemen, would not have
done just what I did, as unsuspicious as
myself of any ulterior design?

"God of vengeance! Is it possible
for two persons to walk the streets
of this city at midnight, unseen, un-
recognized by anyone? Is there no one
witnessed this woman accost me? or
who saw us together enter her door?

"I confess to not remembering of
meeting or seeing a soul, but I was
under a siren spell — as in a trance I
walked. Gentlemen of the jury, I can
never make you feel that woman's irre-
sistible, devilish, fascinating personality.
I now understand why, after a lifetime
of irreproachable respectability, my
brother-in-law fell for her, though at
the time I attributed her baneful witch-
ery to my youth and inexperience with
women.

"In a dozen ways the woman betrayed
the fact that she knew me, while I was
still hopelessly at a loss to reestablish
her identity; and when I. caught her
eyes fixed on me with a queer, malicious
gleam I concluded, fool-wise, that she
was merely making sport of my short
memory, and would reveal herself ere
we reached her door.

"But when we arrived at the number
she had named, with a nervous little
laugh, whose meaning I have since rein-
terpreted, she directed my attention to
a light in a room she called the library,
and explained that her husband, prob-
ably finding that he must miss meeting

her down-town, had evidently returned
directly to their home; and she insisted
in her irresistible way that I, being
somewhat of a medical man myself, must
come in and meet him. And her anx-
ious insistence that I come in, regard-
less of the hour, impressed me that there
was something of which she was fearful.
Perhaps she wished the witness of my
youth in explaining her escort to a jeal-
ous husband — I had known such men —
and not being able to fix on any plau-
sible alternative reason, decided that she
was only another husband-fearing wife.
Here again, to my sorrow and ruin, gal-
lantry required me to comply.

"She let us into the house with her
own latchkey, and left me in the draw-
ing room while she went in search of
her husband, whom, she surmised, she
would find busy preparing a chafing-dish
supper.

"I thought it peculiar that she should
shut the door after her into the hall, and
when through the stillness I could hear
the silken swishing of her draperies in
some remote room as she moved about
in seeming hurried preparation, but no
sound to suggest that there was anyone
with her — not a foot-fall nor a whisper,
I began to think it more than odd.
Finally a door was opened and instantly
slammed to with a sharp thud, and I
heard her utter a frightened, stifled
shriek, scarce more than a gasp, but it
brought to my mind a sense of something
more than unusually wrong — a premoni-
tion that grew on me when on the back
of this there ensued a silence that seemed
without end.

"For a while I sat in embarrassment,
mystification and wonder; waiting, ex-
pecting I hardly knew what, hoping that
yet the Lorelei of the bronze hair and
violet eyes would reappear — or even a
rumpus with an irate husband would
have been welcomed. But there was
only the awful, utter silence, such as one
feels when entirely alone in a house.

"A half-hour must have elapsed, and

4i6

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

I resolved that courtesy did not require
my lingering there any longer; and if
there was a tragedy of a domestic nature
being enacted, perhaps it would be just
as well for me to absent myself. So,
scribbling an apology on my card, I laid
it on the table and atttempted to leave
the room.

"Gentlemen, you can never imagine
my consternation at finding that the door
opening into the hall was locked!

"For a moment I stood absorbed in
trying to disentangle the puzzle of this
adventure that had been thrust upon me.
I could not doubt now that the woman
had recognized me and brought me there
on that account, but for what purpose I
could not even surmise. Through my
head a score of conjectures chased each
other into blind alleys. That it was no
ordinary practical joke I felt convinced,
recalling the woman's earnestness of
manner; and I was inclined to smash a
window and shriek for help, but, gentle-
men, the bane of being country-born
alone restrained me — the fear was on me
that I had been foolishly trapped and
would be laughed at in the newspapers
for a greenhorn.

"I had the muscle to protect myself
from any physical injury, I reflected,
while through my nerves tingled that
subtle thrill that waits on those whose
souls delight in strange happenings —
and rightly or wrongly, wisely or un-
wisely, I determined to see this adven-
ture to its end.

"The only other exit from the draw,
ing room, except into the hall, was a door
that I knew must communicate with the
room she had designated as the library;
so, cautiously crossing the floor, I sud-
denly threw open the door to avoid sur-
prise, but on the threshold I stood still,
frozen cold.

"'O God!' I cried. 'O God!' I
felt that I could leap out of my-
self with horror — with horror of
what I saw. Gentlemen, no lan-
guage ever prepared words to ex-

press such terror, such agony as mine.

"For one staggering, soul-freezing in-
stant I stood staring at my perfidious
brother-in-law, who sat huddled in a
chair immediately facing me. His head
lolled horribly to one side, and his arms
hung down with a peculiar heaviness
that instantly suggested death, while his
clothing had been drenched with a del-
uge of blood that still drummed in drops
on the floor. A reading light hung
directly over his head and an evening
paper lay, weighted with the red flood,
across his lap. Everything indicated
that he had been taken unawares, and
his throat slashed by somebody from
behind; from my slight knowledge of
coagulum I realized that he must have
been dead for several hours. All this I
saw with a dreadful clearness and keen-
ness of vision that of itself was torture.

"Then, like a flash, the whole hideous
plot was revealed to me — that woman,
and that woman alone, was guilty of this
monstrous crime!

"Returning memory told me this was
the woman who had stolen my sister's
husband and now had taken his life,
and I realized that the reason why I had
not recognized that Jezebel was because
she had dyed her blond hair a color that
completely disguised her to me. I had
known her but slightly, having never
seen her, all told, more than a half-
dozen times, and then before the scandal,
when my interest in her was slight.

"To understand the profound roots of
this tragedy, it seems necessary to go
somewhat into the past of this woman.
From the time she came to live in our
little Wisconsin village her domestic re-
lations had been town talk. She had
married for money where she did not
love. That she did not even respect her
husband was day gossip, and when she
found the one she did love, she threw
herself at him in a way that loosened the
tongues of a little Babel. He, the hus-
band of my sister, had been a physician
in good standing until then, but for this

AND THE MAN SAID :. "THE WOMAN"

4'7

woman he gave up the struggle for con-
ventionality and honor, gave up kindred,
associates and home and wrecked the
structure he had been building since
childhood. There had followed some
scandal, a quick disappearance, a fort-
night's aftermath in the buzz of the vil-
lage, two broken families who must re-
adjust themselves to facts, and all was
over.

"But it is the nature of man to repent
and the disposition of woman to be
avenged. 'Whoso breaketh an hedge a
serpent shall bite him," wrote the wisest
man. However, society leaves a gap in
the hedge for the man to return, while
closing it infrangibly against the woman.
Hence, when the man had begun to feel
the keenness of the sting of the serpent,
to lose his relish for the devil's feast
spread beyond the hedge, to feel the
shame and the ostracism — companions
that would go always with them twain
step by step down the long vista of the
future— he had commenced his prepara-
tions to play the coward and abandon
the woman who had abandoned all for
him.

"This much we know and have the
evidence. We can only surmise her
natural revolt against desertion and the
prospect of suffering alone the conse-
quences of her error. She had witnessed
the fate of such women when the world
has repudiated them. She had seen the
poor, tattered, wretched, tearful, hope-
less creatures drifting lower and lower,
while the man resumed the garment and
companionships of morality. Oh, the
pathos of it! Oh, the helplessness of
the woman! Gentlemen, this sex dis-
crimination justified the crime! For it
is clear to my mind that when the mo-
ment came this woman was prepared
with an audacious plan of revenge, a
most deliberate, diabolical revenge,
planned with all the ingenuity and
finesse of which only an arch demon
could be capable, and which she carried
out without a single hitch until she en-

deavored to throttle me in her scheme of
vengeance. Obviously, in pursuance of
plans carefully laid and pondered, she
slashed his throat as he sat reading,
then she calmly proceeded with her line
of defense.

"You have heard the witnesses testify
how she left a ticket for this man she
called her husband at the office of the
theater, how she sat conspicuous in a
box throughout the entertainment, and
how, on leaving the theater she again
attracted attention to herself by stopping
at the office and expressing her surprise
that this husband had not called for her.

"Thus she prepared her alibi. What
her intentions were for subsequent pro-
ceedings we can only surmise from the
ransacked condition of the house and the
silver and jewelry she had thrown into
a bag and dropped near a rear window
she had purposely left open to direct sus-
picion to an imaginary burglar.

"But whatever were her plans, they
manifestly underwent a complete change
when what seems little short of fate
led to that midnight meeting with me
and a recognition that has been to my
undoing.

"If this woman had, by some special
endowment, been privileged to create her
own opportunities for the execution of
her design, she could not have timed
things better, nor found a more suitable
tool to hand, for she instantly saw in me
the one factor with whom she could best
direct suspicion from herself, and also
she saw one more chance to injure my
sister, whom she hated for no other rea-
son than that she had already deeply
injured her.

"I, gentlemen, was the weapon to give
the finishing stroke to her revenge.

"All this flashed on me, and also how
at that very moment she might be fixing
the rope around my neck. And as my
brain cleared the more I became terri-
fied at the possible results of being
disovered there, for of course my pres-
ence in that house admitted of no inno-

4i8

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

cent explanation, least of all the true
one, ohould that arch-demon choose to
dispute it.

"Gentlemen, I was but a miserable,
frightened boy. I was frenzied. My
one coherent conception was the neces-
sity of getting away from there unde-
tected. I peered cautiously out of a
window overlooking the street to dis-
cover a policeman idly swinging his club
under the arc light at the corner.

"Frantic with fear, I then thought to
escape through a room that opened
darkly to the rear, only in my wild rush
to stumble over a body lying there on
the floor and dabble myself with the
blood that was pooling in a widening
circle around it. An awful gasping, gur-
gling sob, as of mortal pain, told me that
the person was not dead, and the realiza-
tion that it was a woman, together with
my professional instinct, prompted me
to forget personal safety for the moment.

"Gentlemen, it was not the act of a
criminal to switch on all the lights as
I did, and, indifferent to the crushing
coil of circumstances that were every
moment tightening about me, to sacrifice
precious time, if not my life, to minister
to that dying woman, whom, to my as-
tonishment, I discovered to be the one
who had brought me thither.

"Beside her lay a sharp, slender game
knife, with which she had probably first
slaughtered my recreant brother-in-law,
and then, not more than a few minutes
since, had cut her own throat — and I, of
all unfortunate persons! was in at the
last desperate rush of their souls to the
seat of judgment.

"I was not slow in placing an inter-
pretation upon the facts as they ap-
peared; but why she should have added
suicide to her crime of murder I could
not then understand — not until the
watchman testified that he had been
attracted to the house by the discovery
of the open window, and when she at-
tempted to slip away by a rear door, he,
thinking her a possible burglar, had

covered her with his gun with the warn-
ing, 'In the name of the law.' Believing
herself about to be arrested, she had
sprung back, shut and barred the door,
and, with the same utter abandon of
heart as that with which she had robbed
another woman of her husband, she now
deliberately sacrificed me with herself.

''Yet, divining all this, I am not
ashamed, gentlemen, that, in a crisis
which amply justified all the horror and
repugnance which a mortal can feel at
the prospect of becoming a vicarious
sacifice, I stopped to succor this dying
woman.

"With my penknife I slit away the
blood-soaked gown, bared the breast and
injected, subcutaneously, the contents
of my hypodermic syringe, which was
already charged with a solution of
glonin. Then I proceeded to stanch
the flow of blood and close the wound.

"It was a terrible task, but I was toil-
ing to conjure the secret of her villain-
ous plot from the woman's fast-failing
intelligence. The heart responded
bravely to the powerful stimulant and
in a few minutes she opened her eyes.
Did I only seem to perceive a flicker
of understanding, a gleam of demoniac
triumph upon the siren features? Ah,
whether she could not or would not
speak, I do not know. At least she
made no effort, no response to my fran-
tic pleadings.

"All this while I was doing my utmost
to resuscitate her, I saw in vivid pano-
rama myself arrested for her sin; I wit-
nessed this trial ; I heard the hum of the
court room, the decision of the jury, the
sentence of the judge, and looming be-
hind it all I saw the gallows; and, gen-
tlemen, when at length she breathed her
wicked last, those minutes of deadly
dread had unstrung my nerves, and
throwing caution and reason to the
wind, I rushed from that room, out into
the street and into the arms of the
policeman whom the watchman had sum-
moned to assist investigate the mysteri-

AND THE MAN SAID

THE WOMAN "

419

ous doings he had observed about the
place.

"Gentlemen of the jury, this is my ex-
planation of the incoherent, incredible
statement I am charged with making
when the police wrung from me, half
swooning as I was, the admission that
I was cognizant of the double crime
within that house, and it ought to ac-
count for those minutes of frenzied panic
which followed.

"This, gentlemen of the jury, is the
plain statement of my movements from
the hour of midnight, December twelve,
when, through the most malignant stroke
of fortune, I met this woman on the cor-
ner of Cottage Grove and Twenty-sixth
street, and one o'clock of the following
morning, when I was arrested for the
murder of this woman and my erring
kinsman.

"Gentlemen, I am innocent of any
crime, so I have no defense. As I was
the only witness, there is no one I can
call to my rescue. I cannot fabricate an
alibi, because I was there. I can merely
assign motives for this double crime,
since the only person who could have
explained the plot chose cruelly the
silence of death. I have stated my hypo-
thesis— there is nothing more I can say.

"Gentlemen of the jury, I rest my life
with you."

The jury withdrew to the room conse-
crated to their service, where they stood
about in groups discussing the different
suppositions, but coming to no de-
cision.

"It is as natural as breathing for a
man to lie to save his life," opined the
foreman with ominous conviction. And
in response to the wave of excited com-
ment that this generalization evoked he
continued: "Yes, in all the years that I
have served on juries, I have never seen
falsehood so well probated and served out
with such infallible consistency; but
Frank was always good at spinning a
yarn — and this was one of the times
when murder is no crime — 'twas the
lad's only redress."

"Then you have previously known the
prisoner?" queried one of the intensely
interested eleven.

"From a baby," acknowledged the
foreman.

"And your opinion is?"

"Guilty as hell! But having known all
concerned, and the boy's provocation,
my ballot shall be 'not guilty.' '

"Not guilty" was the verdict returned
by the twelve good men and true.

A PORTRAIT OF A MAN

By Walt Whitman

I KNOW a man, a common farmer — the father of five sons ;

* And in them were the fathers of sons — and in them were the fathers of sons.

This man was of wonderful vigor, calmness, beauty of person ;

The shape of his head, the pale yellow and white of his hair and beard, and the immeasur-
able meaning of his black eyes — the richness and breadth of his manners,

These I used to go and visit him to see — he was wise also ;

He was six feet tall, he was over eighty years old — his sons .were massive, clean, bearded,
tan-faced, handsome ;

They and his daughters loved him — all who saw him loved him ;

They did not love him by allowance — they loved him with personal love;

He drank water only — the blood showed like scarlet through the clear-brown skin of his face;

He was a frequent gunner and fisher — he sailed his boat himself — he had a fine one pre-
sented him by a ship-joiner — he had fowling-pieces, presented to him by men that
loved him ;

When he went with his five sons and many grandsons to hunt or fish, you would pick him
out as the most beautiful and vigorous of the gang.

A UNIVERSITY THAT MEANS BUSINESS

By Stephen J. Colvin

CHAMPAIGN, ILLINOIS

DOCTOR EDMUND J. JAMES, who
was called to the presidency of the
University of Illinois in the Fall of
1904, and who was formally installed
into his office the week beginning Octo-
ber 15 of the year just closed, has long
been prominent as an educator in eco-
nomics and political and social science.
Illinois is his native state. He was edu-
cated at Northwestern and at Harvard
University, and later at the university
at Halle in Germany. In 1883 he was
called to the University of Pennsylvania
to be professor of public finance and
administration. He remained at this in-
stitution for thirteen years, during which
time he administered the graduate school
of the .institution and was also the organ-
izer and director of the Wharton School
of Finance and Science. He was the
first to establish a college course in the
field of commerce and industry.

President James has always advocated
the higher training of business men, and
to his conviction, fearless championship
and wise management is due in a large
measure the success of this famous
school. In 1892 he was sent by the
American Bankers' Association to Eu-
rope to report on the education of busi-
ness men abroad. The report which he
made on this subject at once became
a standard in England and the United
States. In 1896 he was called to the
University of Chicago as professor of
public administration and director of the
department of university extension. In
1902 he was elected president of North-
western University. There he remained
until his election as president of the
University of Illinois.

He comes to the University of Illinois
as its fourth president, the first head of
the institution being Dr. John M.

gory, who was inaugurated in March,
1868. At that time the university com-
prised in its faculty three members, and
had a student body of seventy-seven.
Its material equipment consisted of one
brick building. Today it has a faculty
of over four hundred members and a stu-
dent body of more than four thousand.
It ranks fifth in size of the universities
of this country; it comprises six distinct
colleges and an equal number of schools.
Its growth during the last decade has
been greater and more uniform than that
of any other state university in the mid-
dle West. Since 1894 it has increased
five-fold in number.

President James has large plans for
the future of the institution. He be-
lieves that the state university is des-
tined to become a great group of profes-
sional schools preparing its students for
the various occupations of life for which
an extended scientific training based on
adequate, liberal, preparatory training
is necessary or desirable. It will abolish
the old-fashioned American college as
one of its departments, relegating a part
of its work to the high schools and ab-
sorbing another part of this work in the
university proper. It will cut off the
freshman and sophomore years, letting
the high school and college take them,
while it will consolidate the junior and
senior years with the graduate school
into a general faculty of arts and science.

It will express, not merely the old-
fashioned learned professions — law and
medicine; it will prepare for engineering
and architecture; it will be a profes-
sional school to prepare men and women
for teaching in secondary and high
schools; it will prepare for the many
callings in applied science and will in-
clude the great field of scientific farming

A UNIVERSITY THAT MEANS BUSINESS 421

PRESIDENT EDMUND J. JAMES, UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

422-

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

and business commerce in all its diversi-
fied forms. Its keynote will be the sci-
entific training for a special calling,
based on adequate, liberal preparation.
By its requirement for adequate prelimi-
nary preparation of a general character
it will be distinguished from the techni-
cal or trade school of secondary grade;
by its scientific training it will be dis-
tinguished from the ordinary cram-shop
now known as the professional school.

In a word, the state university which
most fully performs Its function for
the American people will stand for
training for vocation, — not training
for leisure nor training for scholar-
ship except as scholarship is a neces-
sary incidental to all proper training
for vocation or may be a vocation In
itself.

The state university will thus supple-
ment the great system of colleges and
universities which has been built up by
private beneficence and church activity.
It will not undertake to displace or in-
jure the private institution. Its attitude
will be one of cooperation and not of
exclusion.

The various religious denominations
will doubtless establish local colleges in
close proximity to the state university;
in these ample provision will be made
for instruction in religious subjects and
maybe in other subjects as well for which
the state university may not make ade-
quate provision. Thus will be found in
one center the freedom of the state uni-
versity and the religious earnestness of
the denominational college, and so one
of the greatest problems of higher edu-
cation will find its solution.

The state university will be essentially
a democratic institution. It will also
stand, in season and out of season, for
the fullest opportunity in the field of
higher education for women. It is des-
tined to be a great civil-service academy
preparing for the civil service of the
nation, state, county and town as clearly,
as definitely as West Point and Ann-
apolis for the military and naval service.

The state university, in a certain sense,
will be the scientific arm of the state.
For the solution of many economic and
industrial problems, laboratories well
equipped and under the direction of
trained investigators are necessary. All
this work should go to the state univer-
sity. The state university will bear most
important relations to the educational
system of the state. Its faculties should
be organized so as to bring to bear their
whole expert force upon the educational
problems of the state.

Finally, the state university represents
the corporate longing of the people for
higher things in the field of education.
Its creation marked a new era in the life
of the American people. Just as it rose
to higher levels when it accepted the
free public high school, so it advanced
to a new and higher outlook when it recog-
nized in its corporate capacity its respons-
ibility for the higher influence of the
spirit embodied in the state university.

The above statements, taken from
President James' inaugural address, indi-
cate in part at least what he hopes the
University of Illinois will become. He
recognizes the great work before him,
and brings to it enthusiasm, courage,
tact, tireless energy and consistent de-
votion, which promise much for the
institution at whose head he stands.
[The motto of the University of Illinois
is "Learning and Labor" and is done in
English (according to Dr. Poultney Bige-
low the only American university motto
which employs the language of the coun-
try) and was intended originally to indi-
cate that the work of the brain and hand
should go together. In accordance with
this idea the University of Illinois estab-
lished in 1870 the first mechanical shops
connected with a university or with any
institute of higher learning in the world,
and has since emphasized this feature of
its work in its Engineering College which
now numbers 1000 students, and also in
its Agricultural College, which is a very
important phase of university work.]

A LIFE WORTH THE LIVING

By Kate Sanborn

Author of "Adopting an Abandoned Farm," "Favorite Lectures," etc.

METCALF, MASSACHUSETTS

THERE are books and books; biog-
raphies and biographies; autobiog-
raphies readable and soon forgotten and
another sort that have a lasting influence
for good; a help and an inspiration to
everyone. I have of late been greatly
impressed by this last sort of a life-story.
It starts wholesome, valuable lines of
thought; perpetuates and carries on the
grand work of a noble character.

If I were asked "What solid book of
the past year do you advise me to give
to a young man either just ready for col-
lege, or in college work, or graduated
and looking about while deciding his
future; or to send to a busy man who
needs to be lifted out of business ruts
and well-worn thought grooves as he
sits by the library fire at night; or to
purchase for a reading club or a circulat-
ing library"? I should say at once, "Get
the 'Autobiography of Andrew Dickson
White.'' And why? Because in these
two volumes the truthful account is given
of the long and distinguished career of
a quiet scholar called to figure in public
life as an educator, a diplomat, states-
man, publicist, professor, president in
large universities, state senator, special
commissioner to Santo Domingo under
President Grant, commissioner to the
Paris Exposition, United States minis-
ter to Germany and to Russia, member
of the Venezuelan commission and am-
bassador to Germany and always the
brave and brilliant advocate of free
thought and free speech.

As a publicist, he has received honor-
ary degrees from the best colleges in our
own and other countries; the list of his
writings fills seven pages at the end of
his book, and his graphic, analytic, illu-

minating pen pictures of the famous men
of the time, and the sovereigns whom
he met on familiar terms, are by some
critics regarded as perhaps the most im-
portant of all. The capital anecdotes he
gives are so new and refreshing that a
charming article could be made from
those alone. His book he thinks of
most importance, "The Warfare of Sci-
ence with Theology," had the honor of
a preface by John Tyndall.

When I offer White's straightforward,
unaffected talk about his life as the most
suggestive and stimulating to me, I do
not forget similar works that have come
to us from Hoar and Boutwell, Villard,
E. E. Hale, Moncure Conway, Trow-
bridge, Jefferson and Higginson, in this
country, and the dozens that have ap-
peared abroad. Among them all, no
one seems to have had such continued
calls to follow the dream and the gleam
of his childhood; partly inheritance from
a long ancestry of sturdy thinkers and
upright livers, with a deep reverence for
church and school and a desire to
know the heads of each. These early
influences and their evident results show
clearly that when a stone is fit for the
wall it is found and used. Also, that if
we all thought a little more about our
talents and what we could do with them
there would be fewer unimportant lives
"rushing reputably to unknown graves."
A little boy I know stood by his mother's
knee and asked seriously, with a puzzled
look in his wonderful dark eyes:
"Mother, what means my little life?"
White, even as a lad, studied for a
future, possibly without realizing how
thoroughly the foundations had been
laid by his ancestors. For he was born

424

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

DR. ANDREW DICKSON WHITE, AT OXFORD, 1902

educated and was a free thinker, yet
reverent to all things worthy of rever-
ence. Many of us who are proud of our
forbears and have accomplished little
ought to feel, as Charles Lamb aptly put
it, like a potato — "all that was worth
anything under ground!" And through
all difficulties, discouragements and as-
saults our modest, all-around hero has
been an optimist, saying:

" 1 have sought to light the good fight.
I have sought to keep the faith; faith

in a Power in the universe good enough
to make truth-telling effective ; faith in
the rise of man rather than the fall of
man ; faith in the gradual evolution and
and ultimate prevalence of right reason
among men."

The paradox of Predestination and
Free Will is less a puzzle when observ-
ing such a continually upward progress;
the boy, the college student, the gradu-
ate traveling in foreign lands could
easily have fallen from grace and blurred
the family record ; he could have re-

A LIFE WORTH THE LIVING

42*

turned a traveled nobody. Many with
the same advantages have turned out
merely cumberers, or, (so coolly indiffer-
ent are they to the world's needs)
cucumberers of the ground.

A model autobiography must be truth-
ful, and the capital I does not mean
egotism. Rev. Dr. Hunger says that
a habit of truthfulness pervades Mr.
White's pages like an atmosphere. "One
closes those open-paged volumes feeling
that one has stayed a while in a world
where no part is dark— the whole full of
light."

Unlike some men of great brain power,
White is always quiet and never oppres-
sive; there is no trace of conceit, but
a lot of genuine humor.

Some reviewer says : "White does not
pose as a philosopher, but as a teacher
of history; yet shows and led the way
by which a university can show the har-
mony of science and theology."

What a great educator he has beenl
The founding and carrying along of Cor-
nell is the most important of all his
work; he had planned for this as a child
almost, and Erza Cornell, with his sur-
plus of half a million, aided to perfect
the idea. He states that he was called
away from nearly every work he began ;
yet he never refused to obey orders,
wherever they might lead, and all the
while was studying history, his ruling
passion, and human nature.

What good and varied society he has
known! He was acquainted with three
emperors of Germany and with Bismarck ;
was in contact with nearly all the men
who have made recent continental his-
tory; admires the Emperor William and
considers the present czar as very in-
different to and ignorant of the dis-
tress of the poor of his country. Long
before the recent conflict between Russia
and Japan, White prophesied the humili-
ation if not the downfall of so weak and
foolish a sovereign governed by those
near him. "The punishment to be meted
out to him and his house is sure."

I wish young men would note that he
studied French and German in private
families in France and Germany, as for-
eign languages should always be studied,
if one expects any fluency of speech
when conversing. And, test of tests, he
was able to make a speech in French
with Victor Hugo as a listener, and to
chat with Kaiser Wilhelmand Bismarck.
How precious the sketches of Bismarck,
Tolstoi and the mysterious Russian pro-
curator, with a dual mind of strong con-
trasts and jaw-dislocating name; the
tyrannic, conservative Pobiedonostseff,
whom White discovered to be a schol-
arly, kindly man. His name is spoken
with abhorrence by millions within the
empire of Russia and without it, and yet
the first book he ever translated into
Russia was Thomas a Kempis's "Imita-
tion of Christ: "and Emerson's "Essays"
are his favorite reading.

I will not repeat the splendid anecdotes
of famous men and women, because I
want you to get the volumes and pick
out the plums for yourself. Greeley ap-
pears often, always in a most funny role.

A friend of Dr. White says he missed
the point of one of the best and gives it
in this way:

A brother Universalist having called
to remonstrate with Horace Greeley on
the omission of the Tribune to contro-
vert those orthodox Christians who were
filling the religious press of New York
with revivalist sermons, denouncing
damnation to all but the elect, found
the great editor busy writing. He kept
on writing while his caller said: "Mr.
Greeley ! do you mean to let these
awful doctrines go unchallenged in your
newspaper ? that all but a few of the
people of this great country are going to
hell, — is that your idea of duty ?" Finally
Greeley's patience was exhausted ; he
lifted up his voice and spoke : "Not
half enough people go to hell now ; go
there yourself !"

For a final thought White said as an
educator :

"The first and best thing to do is to
set people at thinking."

BEN FRANKLIN AND TOM PAINE

QUAINT AND ORIGINAL COMMENT UPON TWO OF
THE GREAT HEROES OF THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD
IN AMERICA, WHOSE BIRTH ANNIVERSARIES FALL IN
THIS MONTH, BEN FRANKLIN'S JUST 200 YEARS AGO

By John McGovern

Author of "The Golden Censer," "The Fireside University," "Poems," "Plays," etc.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, OUR ONE "WORLD'S MAN,"
THE AMERICAN CONFUCIUS

THE seventeenth of January, each
year, beholds in at least fifty of
the cities of the United States what is
probably the chief social festival, cele-
brating the anniversary of Ben Frank-
lin's birth at Boston, Massachusetts.
Dissociated from "partisan" feeling,
republican-democrats, democrat - repub-
licans, and less fashionable patriots meet
in rivalry to do Franklin honor. Step-
ping forth into the only unmummified
question of the last forty years — that is,
the Labor question, — it has come about
that while the employers and the work-
ingmen no longer feel inclined to chase
the happy hours in one pack, each side
declares itself to be equally envious of
the opportunity to solemnize the day of
Franklin's splendid birth; and therefore
the Typographers (higher wages, shorter
hours) meet each year in one festal hall,
and the Typothetae (lower wages, longer
hours) meet in some other bower of
green and bloom, wherein (that is, in
the right and left bower) — both com-
panies have previously spent more money
for smilax, roses and carnations than
Poor Richard would have put out in a
thousand years.
There are nineteen Franklins in the

state of Ohio; there must be a Franklin
avenue, street, court, terrace and pros-
pect in every large American city, and
there are many such streets abroad ; there
are Franklin squares wherever the green
grass defies the dark breathings of the
Industrial Age; in my own city Joseph
Medill supplied Lincoln Park with a
costly Franklin statue, thus bringing
slow-going Chicago into line with for-
eign cities. Franklin schools, libraries,
banks, bank - notes, hotels, companies,
fountains, portraits, stoves, batteries,
presses — all these and many more curves
of human affection, testify that, after all,
Ben Franklin was a second Confucius.
As our hearts stir in admiration of such
a human being and his noble influence
on the morals and the affairs of human-
ity, we find no other character than Con-
fucius with which to compare him and
are inclined to prophesy that as the
American legend proceeds and electrical
development reveals nature more clearly
and as more indulgent to man, Franklin
will be worshipped, or, at least, will be
held in the veneration that the Chinese
have accorded to their chief teacher.

The other day an imperial edict at
Peking abolished the literary examina-

BEN FRANKLIN AND TOM PAINE

427

tions of 2,000 years' standing. Who
knows but that curious old Ben Frank-
lin, standing in the hallway, holding
with almost impious but with trembling
hand the dry end of the wet kite-string
that ascended into the circuit of heaven's
thunders — who knows but that very act
abrogated the ancient customs and learn-
ing of what for 2,200 years had been the
most successful human government in
the world?

Eripuit coelo fulmen, sceptrumque
tyrannis. ("He wrested the lightning
from heaven, and scepters from ty-
rants.") The same experiment killed
the next scientist who tried it — Pro-
fessor Richman at St. Petersburg, Rus-

Greece gave us the story of Prometheus,
but America furnished the man,

Economy is not now a virtue so excel-
lent as it was when pioneers were rebel-
ling against tyranny, yet as man is in-
stinctively a property-animal, living often
into years of decrepitude, there will
never come a time, probably, when the
lessons of frugality impressed on the
American people by Franklin will not
serve the cause of order more effi-
ciently than any other source of instruct-
ion. He practised what he preached.
All other men save Confucius and
Franklin, possessing their charm and
wisdom, have revealed themselves to
their disciples as prophets or kings.

BEN FRANKLIN

sia. Had either skies or tyrants hurled
a fatal bolt at "the old arch-rebel" him-
self, how vastly different might have
been the chronicles of the last 150 years.

He was the grandsire of the Revolu-
tion. He infuriated the Penns (the
trust) and angered the king. He took
the seemingly impossible cause of

428

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

American Independence to Paris and
borrowed money on it — borowed the last
sou of an expiring but generous mon-
archy. Retold the story of his earlier life
in the style of Gil Bias, but beyond his in-
corrigible punning Franklin ceased being
Gil Bias long before he reached middle
age. He fitted literature to the ax, the
saw, the splint, the well-sweep, the log
house. He was one of the very few
moral law givers of the ages, and suc-
ceeded among a people who daily held
the Bible in their hands. Many of his
sayings are supposed to be Bible doc-
trine by the undevout. In oak and
hickory openings, among smoking log
piles, cnarcoal kilns, along worm fences,
resounded the maxims he was so sedul-
ous in teaching — "Plough deep while
sluggards sleep" ; "There never was a
good war or a bad peace"; "Do not
squander time, for that is the stuff life
is made of."

He stopped the powerful draught at
the big chimneys by inventing "the
Pennsylvania fireplace" (stove). He
proved (in a humorous way, of course)
that nitrates and phosphates were fer-
tilizers— for the higher grass read, in the
green field, "This has been plastered."

They needed another director for the
college Franklin had instituted, but they
didn't want a Moravian (religionist.)
"On this," purrs Franklin, "I was men-
tioned as being merely an honest man,
and of no sect at all."

He proved that the people like a man
who takes an interest in their affairs
with a collateral view of not making him-
self any the poorer; that a man is dis-
liked who attends strictly to his own
business; while that man is pitied and
finally denounced who impoverishes him-
self in behalf of the public.

In reading the "Autobiography," one
must ever recall Franklin's besetting sin
of having fun with himself. Dr. Bond
wanted to found his hospital. "At
length he came to me, with the compli-
ment that he found there was no such

thing as carrying a public-spirited pro-
ject through without my being concerned
in it. 'For,' says he, 'I am often asked
by those to whom I propose subscribing,
"Have you consulted Franklin upon this
business. And what does be think of
it?" 'And when I tell them I have not,
(supposing it rather out of your line)
they do not subscribe, but say' they will
consider it.' ' Thereupon Franklin took
hold.

Here the uninitiated might opine that
it were George Francis Train writing.

Again: "Thus, without studying in
any college, I came to partake of their
honors."

When it came to "eripping" the light-
nings from heaven, Franklin waited a
long time for a "projected" church spire
to be built. It is a wonder he did not,
in true Franklinian method, go around
with subscription paper, to get the
temple in order to use the steeple.

When Franklin was abroad, hobnob-
bing with the great men of Europe, who
liked him as well as did the wood-chop-
pers, we may be sure the Franklin job
office and newspaper at Philadelphia
gave him all the space he called for,
while Bradford and the Penns, in their
turn, faithfully called attention to the
small value attaching to such glory. Of
course, Franklin did not read his own
puffs, but read the diatribes of his
enemies with -small comfort and great
zeal. Therefore, imagine his surprise
when on his return to Philadelphia he
found himself the greatest man in Penn-
sylvania, with a grant of $15,000 await-
ing him.

Old Mr. Smooth wormed Lord Hills-
borough out of the Colonial Office at
London. Thereupon he went to call
upon Lord Hillsborough to tell how
sorry he was. The noble earl requested
his caller to cease those tributes of
affection. "I have never since," says
Franklin, "been nigh him, and we have
only abused one another at a distance."

At sixty-eight years Dr. Franklin had

BEN FRANKLIN AND TOM PAINE

429

attained that venerable and peaceful
appearance in which an equally com-
placent world, from China to Peru, in
spirit now views him. The sorrows and
dangers of his glorious life and the
main work he was to do for Liberty were
still before him. We see him trembling
but silent before the fireplace in the
Privy Council at London, clad in the
spotted velvet suit. I believe mankind
to this day resents what Wedderburn,
typical lawyer, said before Franklin on
that occasion: "Nothing will acquit Dr.
Franklin of the charge of obtaining the
letters by fraudulent or corrupt means, for
the most malignant of purposes, unless
he stole them from the person who stole
them. Into what companies will he
hereafter go with an unembarrassed face,
or the honest intrepidity of virtue? Men
will watch him with a jealous eye; they
will hide their papers from him and lock
up their escritoires. He will henceforth
esteem it a libel to be called a man of
letters — homo trium liter arum." (In
English, "A man of three letters" — fur
being the Latin word for "thief," and
having but three letters). "He not only
took away the letters from one brother,
but kept himself concealed till he nearly
occasioned the murder of the other. It
is impossible to read his account, the
expression of the coolest and most delib-
erate malice, without horror. Amidst
these tragical events — of one person
nearly murdered, of another answerable
for the issue, of a worthy governor
(Hutchinson at Boston) hurt in his dear-
est interests, the fate of America in sus-
pense— here is a man who, with the
utmost insensibility of remorse, stands
up and avows himself the author of all."
"The bloody African is not surpassed
by the coolness and apathy of the wily
American."

Dr. Franklin was thereupon discharged
from office, all London inquired when he
was to go to the Tower and Hutchinson
at Boston avowed that it would be wise to
prevent Franklin's return to America.

He went forth discredited and put
away his spotted suit. Years afterward
he appeared in that suit of clothes twice
again — first to sign the treaty with
France, next to sign the treaty with
England that recognized the indepen-
dence of the United States of America.

When the wonderful old magician
began wheedling loans out of the French
treasury, he never let go of a dollar that
was foolishly paid without writing a long
letter of regret announcing his early
ruin; but congress, finding it hard to
bankrupt him, soon became thoroughly
hardened to his cries. He wrote: "A
small increase of industry in every
American, male and female, with a
small diminution of luxury, would pro-
duce a sum far superior to all we can
hope to beg or borrow from all our
friends in Europe." He had lent his
own fortune, he was giving his time;
now he offered the people his counsel.
Public wealth actually increased during
the years General Washington was in his
cheerless camps and Dr. Franklin was
soliciting with all his earnestness — so
true is it in society that some must suffer
for the rest, or all will sink together.

At last America is free and Dr. Frank-
lin leaves the faubourg of Passy — where
radium was afterward discovered and
fixed in a bromide. "It seemed," said
Thomas Jefferson, "as if the village had
lost its patriarch." But Philadelphia
only received back its own, the bell of
Liberty ringing. He came like a free-
man, to die not on the tyrant's scaffold,
to be buried under no common jail, to
be pictured in no prison calendar. Be-
neath those white hairs lay a brain that
for fifty years had not rested in the work
of liberation. What other American had
written, conversed, argued, pleaded,
counseled so long, so unintermittingly,
so successfully? He was that proud day.
as he is this boastful day, the delight of
mankind.

Humanity smiles upon his foibles as
being almost universally its own. His

43°

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

life and thoughts are on record more
closely than any other great man's ex-
cepting Rousseau. He was the man of
the time; Rousseau was the man of the
future. Both were remarkable for the
elaboration with which they entered
upon any considerable undertaking.
Both scorned the adventitious use of
dress. Both were capable of charming
almost anybody they set out to merely
please. Not only did the old hero labor
for Liberty, Equality, Humanity and
Science, but to the generality of people
his imperturbable good humor, his ex-
haustless wit, his savoir faire, his pru-
dent methods, his genial love of human
nature, notwithstanding the artifices

which he rarely failed to employ in
dealing with average human nature,
make him the prince of men. If we
look closely into his weaknesses we shall
observe that each one is merely the
raveled end, not the beginning, of some
noble thread in his character.

Our one World's Man had a, mind so
commanding that it is possible he could
have lived alone all his life, unsalaried,
unfavored and unflattered, and had he
merely studied and written he would fill,
on our bookshelves today, even a grander
place than History, with an august
sense of his statesmanship, morality
and philosophy, has apportioned to
his name.

THOMAS PAINE, THE AUTHOR OF "THE AGE OF

REASON" AND THE HORACE GREELEY OF THE

AMERICAN REVOLUTION

TOM PAINE was thirty - one years
younger than Dr. Franklin, having
been born January 29, 1837, and it was
through Dr. Franklin's advice that the
cogent young preacher and writer came
to America and acted the part of the
Camille Desmoulins of the American
Revolution.

Had not this preacher turned deist
and written "The Age of Reason," he
would today wear the halo of one of our
saints of liberty, for he was as efficient
in his day as Greeley was from 1860 to
1865 in strengthening the cause of the
American army and providing material
aid for its support.

But everybody was religious in those
days according to a printed code of
faith. Everybody believed that God
wrote the Bible, and then attached the
codicil of the New Testament to it.
Whoso did not believe was surely
damned, and Tom Paine was no excep-
tion.

1 should say that Volney, rather than
the Encyclopedists or Tom Paine, was
in at the real birth of the liberty of
thought that we enjoy today. In the
"Ruins of Empires" is outlined the
precise Parliament of Religion that long-
bearded Brother Bonney, to the aston-
ishment of mankind, assembled at the
Chicago World's Fair in 1893. And as
if they were reading out of Volney, day
after day, each high priest — Confucian,
Buddhist, Brahmin, Mohammedan, Shin-
toist, Shamanist, Hebrew, Christian —
what not? — each set forth the reasons
which led him to know that he alone
knew all about the universe. I should
except the Confucian, for the illustrious
Pung Quang Yu expressly stipulated
that the ethical systems of Confucius
were not offered as a religion, and that
the word "religion" does not exist in
the Chinese language.

"The gift gains by the giver." The
gift of liberty, or the gift of magnificent

BEN FRANKLIN AND TOM PAINE

MORSE'S BUST OF THOMAS PAINE

Placed in Independence Hall, Philadelphia, September n, 1905
Sketched for the National Magazine by M. L. Blumenthal

" For the centennial of 1876 the Boston Index raised a fund to
present to Philadelphia a bust of Thomas Paine, to be placed in
Independence Hall. Sydney H. Morse, a free-thinker, was the
sculptor, and among the contributers were Rev. Edward Everett
Hale, now chaplain to the Senate, George W. Julian, then a congress-
man, and the Revs. O. B. Frothingham and Robert Collyer. But even
these names would not save Paine's at that time. The bust was refused
a niche " because Paine was an infidel," and since then the bust has been
in the custody of Mrs. Carrie B. Kilgore, a lawyer of Philadelphia.
She has finally persuaded the city to accept the bust, and it was
placed, with simple ceremonies, in the historic building, in company
with the figures of other noted men of Revolutionary days."

— Frt.n '•'•The Truth Seeker."

432

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

services in the cause of liberty, by Tom
Paine, went for absolutely- nothing as
soon as "The Age of Reason" was read.
The preachers and the Federalists set
hard on his trail, and the preachers, at
least, having probably never heard of
Volney, pursued Tom Paine into retire-
ment and haunted the plague-stricken
man to his dying hour, listening with
Christian resignation to the cries of tor-
ture that issued continually from his
sick chamber, and misrepresenting those
utterances with as much holy prevarica-
tion as does the nun in "The Two
Orphans."

In these latter days of successful
Hamiltonian propaganda, with the cog-
nate respectability of graft, it may cheer
honest men, patriots and freemen to read
out of Jefferson's (the 277th) letter to
Tom Paine, dated after the complete
downfall of Hamiltonism and triumph of
Jefferson. "I am in hopes," says Jeffer-
son to Paine, "you will find us returned
generally to sentiments worthy of former
times. In these it will be your glory to
have steadily labored, and with as much
effect as any man living. That you may
long live to continue your useful labors,
and to reap their reward in the thank-
fulness of nations, is my sincere prayer.
Accept assurances of my high esteem
and affectionate attachment." Thomas
Jefferson loved both Dr. Franklin and
Tom Paine, and was himself as well
loved by people to the west of the
Potomac as any man who has ever lived.

He was a doctor of liberty and a good
judge of men and gods.

In Colonel Ingersoll's works will be
found nearly all that is known of the
facts of Tom Paine's latter days and
dying hours. Both Paine and Franklin
had it hard at the end. Probably I
should say Tom Paine drank a good
deal, and possibly to relieve his pains.
In those days almost any housewife and
all preachers believed that it was far
better to die than to drink. Maybe it
was, but it seems to me the sick man is
the best judge. Certainly it is far better
and easier to die without taking a drink
of "whiskey" such as is sold in prohibi-
tion states. The prohibitionist, after
mixing his "whiskey" in the cellar,
vending it to the stranger within his
gates and viewing the swift destruction
wrought on the stranger by his potion,
most logically strengthens his previous
conviction that strong drink is raging.

Tom Paine is one of the Revolutionary
Fathers. In Paris he was moderate, and
voted to save the king's life and give
him honorable exile. After all, as
Liberty is a million times more im-
portant than Religion, the time must
come when what Tom Paine thought
about King George, and not what he
thought about Christianity, will be the
main question. I should like to live in
that age, because I do not enjoy invad-
ing or hurting other people's religious
feelings.

But Justice is the highest ideal.

WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY

By George Birdseye

IT was his little namesake said:

• "I'm glad George Washington is dead ! "

"O, George," the mother cried in sorrow,

"How can a boy of mine speak so ? "
"Because we have no school tomorrow,"

Said George; "perhaps you didn't know."

MULATTO

NEGRO

THE YELLOW PERIL OF THE NORTH

By Annie Riley Hale

WASHINGTON, DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA
ILLUSTRATION BY M . L. BLUMENTHAL

WHILE there have been sporadic
periods of agitation in the press
and in congress over the "yellow peril"
on the Pacific slope, and the discussion
of the negro peril of the South, like the
brook, "goes on forever," few have
seemed to realize that to the Caucasian
dweller in the northern half of this coun-
try there is a deeper and graver racial
menace than either of these two, in that
it involves the most horrible possibili-
ties of both.

President Eliot of Harvard Univer-
sity, in a speech before the Lincoln
Dinner Club some months ago, declared:
"Northern opinion and Southern opin-

ion are identical with regard to shield-
ing the two races from admixture one
with the other. We frankly recognize
that the feeling of northern whites
against personal contact with the negro
is even stronger than that of southern
whites."

But let us see how far even this high
authority is supported by the facts and
figures in the case. Statutory law is
significant as an index to public opin-
ion, and over against President Eliot's
pronunciamento we are forced to place
the telling and insurmountable fact that
but two, Maine and Delaware, of all the
northeastern states, and but four, Ore-

434

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

gon, Idaho, Nebraska and Indiana, of
all the northwestern states, prohibit
marriage between whites and blacks.

A glance at the latest census statistics
may enlighten even while it astonishes
those who have been accustomed to think
and to charge that the admixture of
white with negro blood is "the Southern
crime." On page sixteen of Census
Bulletin No. 8, tables are given show-
ing the per cent, of mulattoes in total
negro population for the various states
and groups of states in 1890, 1870, 1860
and 1850. The figure which stands
against New England in the computa-
tion for 1890 is 32.7 per cent.; against
the North Atlantic division 23.2. ; against
the most northerly group in the South
Atlantic division, including Delaware,
Maryland, District of Columbia, Vir-
ginia and West Virginia, 19.2; while for
the southerly group, comprising the
Carolinas, Georgia and Florida, it is
only ii per cent. Opposite the North
Central division, embracing Ohio, Indi-
ana, Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin,
Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, Nebraska
and Kansas, stands 31 per cent, mul-
atto in the total negro population;
whereas the South Central group, Ken-
tucky, Tennessee, Alabama, Missis-
sippi, Louisiana, Arkansas, Oklahoma
and Texas, shows only 14 per cent,
of its large negro contingent with an
infusion of white blood.

"The figures warrant the belief that
between one-ninth and one-sixth of
the negro population of continental
United States have been regarded by
four groups of enumerators as bear-
Ing evidence of an admixture of white
blood. The figures also Indicate that
this admixture was found by the
enumerators to be most prevalent In
sections where the proportion of
negoes to whites Is smallest, and least
prevalent where the proportion Is

largest.**— Census Bulletin No. 8,f. Id.

For instance, Maine, whose negro
population in 1890 was one-fifth of one
per cent, of the total, shows 57.4 of the
negroes to be mulattoes; while South
Carolina, for the same decade having 59.9
per cent, of all her people negroes, shows
only 9.7 per cent, of them mulattoes.
Massachusetts, with one per cent, of
her popular strength negroes, exhibits
36.3 per cent, of these with a Caucasian
strain; while Mississippi, with a negro
population more than half — 57.6 — shows
only 1 1 .5 per cent, of them thus marked.

Allowing for all possible errors and
inaccuracies in this mongrel enumera-
tion, we cannot escape the plain, statisti-
cal fact, that as one passes from the
great cotton -growing states between
South Carolina and Texas toward the
North, there is a marked increase of
racial fusion. The presumption that this
is due solely or chiefly to immigration
from the South is precluded by noting
the same ratio between the figures for
the two sections in 1850-60, when the
only immigrants of this color from the
South were the runaway slaves. A com-
parison of northern and southern cities
for the earlier periods tells the same
story : the percentage of mulattoes among
negroes in Boston, Massachusetts, in
1860 was 38.3; that of Savannah,
Georgia, for the same period was 18. i.
That of Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1860 was
54.9 per cent., while that of Charleston,
South Carolina, was 25.2 per cent. Chi-
cago had 49.3, and Philadelphia 32.6 per
cent, mulattoes as against 21.8 for Louis-
ville, Kentucky, and 21.4 for Richmond,
Virginia.

If we hold that the only sin in the
commingling of these two is the sin of
of illegality, perhaps the chief onus of
miscegenation still rests upon the South;
but if it be conceded that any such
amalgamation is in itself a crime, the
South stands approved as the champion
of Anglo-Saxon purity, not only for ex-
hibiting the smallest percentage of ad-
mixture in the midst of the greatest

THE MULATTO NEGRO'

435

opportunity for it, but also for entering
her protest uniformly against it on her
statute books. In this view of it also,
it seems a poor defence to say that the
strong Caucasian instinct of the North
is sufficient protection against miscegena-
tion, and that it is useless to legislate
against an evil which does not exist.
Unless the census statistics greatly lie,
the evil does exist and in much greater
proportion than in the South.

The question naturally arises: If such
large percentage of admixture stands
against the North with few negroes,
what might it not be with more? And
more negroes is the proposition which
confronts the North today; as an immi-
nent and radical change in the South 's
industrial system may ultimately deliver
into northern hands both the negro and
his problem. Every breeze from the
South blows tidings of this change. Mr.
William Garrott Brown of Harvard Uni-
versity,, in a recent tour of the southern
states, observed it going forward through
two movements of population — exodus
and immigration: "There is," he wrote,
"a steady and widespread movement of
negroes from the countrysides into the
towns, and out of the state into the
North; and there is a moderate but
fairly steady and apparently increasing
inflow of whites. All over the South the
complaint is heard that the negro as a
laborer, particularly as a farm-hand, is
deteriorating. It becomes harder and
harder to bind him to the soil or to long
terms of service in any line, and he is
likely to leave when the farmer needs
him most."

All over the South, too, as it happens
coincident with this, there is a great
industrial renaissance; a full awakening,
for the first time in her history, to the
complete realization of the hidden poten-
tialties in her vast and comparatively
untouched resources. This industrial
giant has risen from the lethargy which

two centuries of slavery imposed, and
shaking off the transient effects of defeat
and misrule, he will brook no obstacle
and no delay in his high .resolve
to cause the South to blossom with
new wealth and power. There is work
to be done in this vast undertaking;
the negro refuses to do it. Very well.
Then he must make room for someone
who will. At the convention of the
"Southern Industrial Parliament," held
in Washington last May, the chief sub-
ject for discussion was the immigration
of farm labor. The burden of their cry
was "the harvest is plenteous, the labor-
ers are few. The negro as an industrial
factor is a failure; he is not dependable;
we must have something else."

.The vital point in all this for the
North is, that the South is getting some-
thing else. Italian labor is no longer
an experiment in the South. Since the
first colony at "Sunnyside Plantation"
in Arkansas twelve years ago — at first
a failure, afterward a signal success —
these people have proven more industri-
ous and more thrifty than the negroes.
This is illustrated by the saying, "if an
Italian earn a dollar and a quarter per
day, he will live on the twenty-five cents
and save the dollar; but if a negro earn
a dollar and a quarter, he will spend
a dollar and a half." At least one great
railroad system of the South has begun
to use Italians instead of negroes for
track work; but the most deeply signi-
ficant fact is their appearance in the
sugar, rice and cotton fields.

Better still, the negro's industrial
shortcomings are bringing to the front
the native white rural and mountain
population — "the South's great, unutil-
ized industrial reserves." The whites
are gaining in the shops and mills; they
are to be found working side by side
with the negroes in the tobacco fac-
tories, and they have a monopoly in the
cotton mills, where the negroes are not
found at all. The silk mills near Nor-
folk. Virginia, employ the native white

436

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

girls exclusively. "In parts of Virginia
and the Carolinas, whence the negroes
are migrating northward so steadily,"
says an eye witness, "white men are
doing more and more of the work that
was formerly left to negroes. Large
planters and land-owners in those quar-
ters now make it a rule to have neither
negro laborers nor negro tenants, aim-
ing specially against sudden departures.
Once free of their long dependence on
the African, these people will hardly go
back to it of their own accord."

Aiming at greater efficiency for
this white labor is the movement re-
cently inaugurated in Washington en-
titled ''the Southern Industrial-Educa-
tional League." for the establishment
of more and better training schools in
the South for the poor white children.
Mr. Brown deposes in this connection:
"The white man whom the negro has
to fear is no longer the man who would
force him to work; it is the white man
who would take his work away from him.
The immediate danger to the negro is
from rivalry rather than oppression."

Ill

With the industrial failure of his rac^
in the lower grades of service, the edu-
cated and professional negroes of the
South will be forced into new fields; for
it is true of negroes as of whites, that
those who do the head work must be
suppported by those who work with the
hands. What field so alluring to the
educated and ambitious negro as the
region whence the propaganda is so
often heard that only ignorance and
poverty separate him from the white
man? That once he has educated and
enriched himself, the negro should be
admitted to full partnership with the
Anglo-Saxon. It is not the purpose of
this article to quarrel with this propa-
ganda. Let those hold it who will.
Only, from henceforth let those who
preach it, practice it. We have reached
the point where the exponents of this

idea should either back it with tneir
example, or back down from it alto-
gether. The educated negro of the
North will be satisfied with nothing
short of full recognition, and those who
are not yet ready to accede to all his
demands, would do well to draw the line
while there is time. We plead only for
honest declaration and purpose. The
writer above quoted concludes his re-
marks with: "The misery of all our
debating about the negro is that we can-
not honestly pretend to be glad that he
is here or to desire that his seed shall
increase. Yet surely we can afford the
honesty of telling him the truth." This
is the only plea that can fairly be made
for the negro now. This he has a right
to demand, and this is finally the only
kindness we can show him at present.

Yet it is precisely this which very
few people seem disposed to do. The
political complications which envelop
him at the North and his entanglement
with the industrial system of the South,
have hitherto prevented a free expression
of opinion in regard to him. He has
been deceived and misled by specious
theories and glittering generalities until
he might well be pardoned for praying:
"Lord, save us from our friends; we
may be able to take care of our
enemies!"

In the autobiography of a northern
negress published in the Independent,
some months ago, occurs this sentence :
"I can but believe that the prejudice
that blights and hinders is quite as de-
cided in the North as in the South, but
does not manifest itself so openly and
brutally." Probably her southern read-
ers thought the northern colored sister's
adverb "brutally" might be more justly
rendered "frankly," — but that is imma-
terial. The important thing is her testi-
mony to the existence of the "blighting
prejudice" in the section where she was
born and reared, and where she claims
her father was an officer in a white
church for years and her mother was per-

THE MULATTO NEGRO

43?

initted to teach in a white Sunday school,
and young white girls officiated at her
own wedding. And still she was not sat-
tisfied!

The negro is what the French term
"a difficult subject." He is so humble
in his lowliness and so perked-up in his
arrogance that one fluctuates between in-
dulgent commiseration and an indignant
desire to punch his head, in a hopeless
effort to adjust one's mental plane to his
attitude. His presence in any consider-
able numbers at the North will force
public sentiment there to line up on the
issue. Unlike the South, the North does
not present a united front on this ques-
tion; and this will increase her difficul-
ties when her turn comes to wrestle with
the "problem."

Largely speaking, there are three
classes of northerners in their attitude
toward the negro. There is a small,
select cult, who preach the doctrine of
full political and social equality and
boldly advocate miscegenation as the
only Christian and rational solution of
the situation. There is, of course, no
"negro peril" for this class anywhere.
There is another class, the antipodes of
this one, in whom Caucasian exclusive-
ness is as strongly developed as in the
proudest southerner, and who answer to
President Eliot's description of being
even more averse to personal contact
with the negro. This class of northern-
ers are not appeased by the colored
man's educational veneering, nor by his
acquisition of wealth and official honors,
nor yet by his light complexion. They
are less impressed by the meretricious
show of negro progress than are many
southerners, because with more discern-
ment they have thought the thing out for
themselves independently of their en-
vironment. They hold that the quali-
ties of the blood go deeper than any
mere surface-show of book learning or
pious phraseology; that "reversion to

type" is a scientific principle. They
stand by the biological axiom that "the
man-history is the race-history," and
they know the proper place to study the
latter is where the racial tendencies have
free play, unrestrained by the presence
of a dominant race. Therefore for the
real negro characteristics these turn not
to the cities of Europe and continental
United States, where he is constantly
copying and leaning upon the white
man; but to the jungles of Africa and
to the black republics which he has
established for himself, where he may
work his own sweet will without let or
hindrance from others. And these
northern students of the race problem
along purely scientific lines find the
racial traits therein revealed so little
to their liking that they have no mind
to take chances on them in their own
families — not even for the "eighth re-
move." These will fight most strenu-
ously the new negro peril at the North,
and in so doing they will merit the sym-
pathy of the civilized world, for they are
fighting foes from within and without —
and as usual the worst are those of their
own household.

Between the two extremes of northern
opinion on this question there is another
and by far the most numerous class at
the North, who wish well to the negro
in a vague and general sort of way; who
would like to "help" him at long range;
who are full of beneficent platitudes
anent the "man and brother", but whose
regard for him rests partly on a miscon-
ception of his real nature and partly on
a sense of security from him in any
event. With the coming of " more
negroes" this class will have an oppor-
tunity of applying to themselves the
theories they have so long believed
applicable at the South, with the possi-
ble result of a better understanding of
their southern neighbors. It is a favorite
argument with this class that the South's
policy of making the negro subordinate,
of drawing the color line as rigidly

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

against the educated and virtuous as
against the illiterate and depraved, is
not calculated to foster the negro's self
respect nor conducive to a very high
racial development — allowing that he is
capable of such development — and this
is indisputably correct. There is abso-
lutely no flaw in our northern friends'
reasoning on this point, and if the
negro's advancement were the sole thing
or the main thing to be considered, the
South' s "color line" policy should re-
ceive unmitigated condemnation.

But there is another aspect of the
question on which the northern mind
does not appear to reason quite so
clearly. It fails to see the logical
connection between political equality
and social equality in a free republic;
and particularly the advocates of social
equality for the most deserving negroes
deny that this is the natural precursor
of miscegenation. They take sharp issue
with the statement of Professor Smith
of Tulane University [New Orleans] in
his recent book, "The Color Line: A
Brief in Behalf of the Unborn" :

"11 we sit with the negroes at our
tables. If we entertain them as our
guests and social equals, if we disre-
gard the color line In all other rela-
tions, is it possible to maintain it
fixedly in the sexual relation, in the
marriage of our sons and daughters,
in the propagation of our species? Un-
questionably, No! It is as certain as
the rising of tomorrow's sun that, once
the middle wall of social partition is
broken down, the mingling of the tides
of life would begin instantly and pro-
ceed steadily. If the race barrier be
removed and the individual standard
of personal excellence be established,
the twilight of this century will gather
upon a nation hopelessly sinking in
the mire of mongrelism.**

As everyone .knows, "the middle wall
of social partition" has never been so
solidly maintained in the North as in the
South, and the greater mongrelism of the
North as set forth in the census records
cited in this article, seems to uphold
Professor Smith's position rather than
that of the negrophiles. However, the
final vindication of the one or the other
will come with the increase of the negro
population at the North, and the oppor-
tunity to witness the effect of the differ-
ent negro policies when something like
an equality of numbers obtains between
the sections. If it should happen, for
instance, that certain counties of Massa-
chusetts instead of Mississippi should
register eight negroes to one white citi-
zen, it will be interesting to watch the
workings of the "free ballot and fair
.count" system in the home of its chief
apostles.

One fact which is usually ignored by
the negro-rights agitators and clamorers
for "equality of opportunity" must com-
mend itself to every thoughtful intelli-
gence: wherever the negro exists in
sufficient numbers to make his presence
felt in a community, in direct proportion
as his privileges increase is the racial
feeling against him intensified. This is
strikingly illustrated in the District of
Columbia, where there are more negroes
(90,000) than in any single community
North or South, and where they are at
the same time under fewer restrictions.
Barring the self-assertiveness which this
policy naturally engenders in them, the
Washington negroes are as well-behaved
as the most, and yet nowhere in the
country is racial antagonism so acute,
and this without respect to the sectional
leanings of the whites. Nothing is more
common than to hear citizens from the
Northeast or Northwest, where negroes
are scarce, depose: "We thought we had
a good deal of sympathy for negroes
before we came to Washington;" or to

THE MULATTO NEGRO

439

hear them informing new-comers from
those regions: "You have only to come
to Washington to find out your real
sentiments about the negroes."

And racial antagonism is a factor to
be reckoned with. Right or wrong, it
insists on space to exist as much as the
roots of a tree. You cannot reason it
away, nor preach it out of countenance,
nor annul it by legislative enactment;
and any scheme for the amelioration or
uplifting of the negro which ignores this
as a complication must surely fall to the
ground. Few people have the honesty
and the fearlessness to tell the negro that
only by his consenting to remain the
"under dog" in this government can he
hope to continue a peaceful residence
under it; and yet this is precisely what
every honest thinker, white or black,
knows to be the case. The colored
teachers who have the courage to pro-
claim this truth have usually paid the
penalty of their rashness in the mob
vengeance of their irate followers.

VII

The advocates of the elevating pro-
cess, to be consistent, should also advo-
cate giving the negro a country and a
government of his own; but, strange to
say, those who are most insistent upon
the high qualities and great possibilities
of the negro race oppose any coloniza-
tion scheme upon the ground that the
negro cannot be trusted to work out his
own salvation. People are continually
talking about educating and elevating
the negro as the final and amicable solu-
tion of the race problem, when they must
know, in the light of all past history,
that whenever the negro rises to the
dignity of rivalry with the Anglo-Saxon
his do<5m is sealed. The measure of
consideration which he receives at
present is dut to the fact that we feel
'ourselves so immeasurably above him.
It is a case of noblesse oblige. Mr.
Thomas Nelson Page, in the summary of
his conclusions on this subject, says:

"There are but two solutions of the
negro problem; we must remove him, or
we must elevate him." Mr. Page would
have put the case more accurately in
saying: "If we elevate him we must
remove him."

VIII

There is yet another phase of this
question which holds a darker meaning
for the whites than race war or "black
supremacy." Every onlooker in north-
ern cities is struck with the number of
mulattoes who might easily pass for
dark-skinned members of the white race.
Again the negro — particularly the mu-
latto— despises himself. He is ashamed
of being a negro, and bends all his
energies toward wiping out that fact.
No epithet of abuse is quite so offensive
to him as his own appropriate racial
name. Even the euphemistic appella-
tions, — " colored gentleman," "Afro-
American citizen," etc., have become
distasteful to him * He grows more and
more resentful of any kind of differen-
tiation. An important witness to this
fact is the statement of the chief statis-
tician of the census bureau that no at-
tempt had been made to obtain the per
cent, of mulattoes in total negro popula-
tion for 1900 because of the growing
reluctance of quadroons and octoroons
to admitting their racial identity. Said
he: "Those who are very light won't
admit it at all, and those who find it
impossible to deny it altogether confess
to it in a less degree than the fact."
Instances are on record of this mongrel
class perjuring themselves rather than
confess to their African inheritance.

Now what is the significance in all
this? It must be apparent to every
thoughtful observer that the negro's
contempt for himself and his kind which
prompts him by every possible means to
elude identification with his kind, will
also lead him to seek admission into
white families under an Anglo-Saxon
guise, if need be. The successful pose

440

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for DECEMBER, 1905

of Hannah Elias in the celebrated Platt
case of New York; the well-nigh suc-
cessful role of B. Sheppard White in
Washington a few years ago; the more
recent case of a minister from one of
the Central American states, whose en-
gagement to a proud society belle was
brought to a sudden termination by the
discovery of his African descent, all
point very ominously to the possibility
and feasibility of unwitting and unwilling
amalgamation of races in this country.

Granting that this wish of the hybrid
negro to lose his identity in the Cau-
casian stream has its pathetic side;
granting also the retributive justice in
it for the proud Anglo-Saxon who of
his bestial appetites has made whips to
scourge not only himself but his race;
this article aims only at pointing out the
most salient traits of the mulatto and their
significance for the white people of the
North particularly. In the nature of the
case the danger must be greater in those
states where miscegenation receives the
sanction of law, the conscientious ap-
proval of a portion of the whites, and
where the freer association and com-
mingling of the two races — coupled with
the presence of a large foreign popula-
tion of varying complexion — enables the
masquerading octoroon to pursue his
course with more or less impunity.

For the select few who guard with
jealous care their own little Anglo-Saxon
plot, the peril is not imminent, perhaps.
But a great many quite worthy and well-
meaning Americans, either from indiffer-
rence or from a democratic scorn of
aristocratic pretensions, do not inquire
very closely into the antecedents of
persons claiming to be "white and re-
spectable." This applies especially to
the North, where the "for a' that" man
has always had more show than at the
South, where the idea of caste and of
family pride has ever been dominant.

It is worthy of note that exposure, in
two of the instances cited above, fol-
lowed upon the gentlemen's proposing

marriage to southern women, whose
families instituted the customary prob-
ing into genealogical backgrounds. It
is worthy of note, also, that they met
these southern ladies in northern society,
for the southern negro, be he black,
brown, or lightest tan, is carefully fenced
off "in his own back yard." Which
fact, joined with the knowledge of swift
and certain punishment for any negro
masquerading as a Caucasian, lessens
the probability of misalliances of this
character occurring at the South.

This then appears to be the situation
in brief: the North is the natural and
preferred home of the mulatto, by com-
mon consent, who is to "make the
trouble" for the white man. It goes
without saying, also, that every unto-
ward aspect of this question for the
North will be aggravated by the increase
in her negro population. The past five
years have witnessed a rapid influx of
southern negroes to northern cities, and
the next decade will probably augment
this beyond all previous records. Any
attempt at drastic legislation aimed at
the southern states by congress would
surely facilitate and precipitate a negro
exodus from those states into the North.
For the South will wage no more devas-
tating wars over the negro. She has had
enough of that, nor is it necessary.
There is an easier way out of the diffi-
culty. The South is working out her
negro problem along industrial lines,
and the negro, all unconsciously to him-
self, is her most active assistant in it.
In the slow working out of racial des-
tinies it becomes practicable to shift the
burden she has borne so long onto the
shoulders of her quondam critics, and in
so doing her temper is neither pugna-
cious nor controversial. She has put
forth her best writers and orators in the
past to tell the North and the world what
they know about this unfortunate race,
and their report has been discredited in

THE MULATTO NEGRO

44i

the main. One of these writers, Mr.
Thomas Nelson Page, says apropos of
this: "We have the singular example in
this country of opinions on this subject
being weighed and estimated, not ac-
cording to the character, intelligence
and opportunity to know the facts,
but altogether upon the geographical
habitat of the persons delivering them.

As a rule, it is enough to know that
a writer or speaker comes from the
South to rob his testimony of half
its value."

So that in handing over to the North
the negro and his concomitant perplexi-
ties, the South 's only message is, in
parliamentary phrase: "Are you ready
for the question? .... It is yours."

COWBOY LIFE IN THE FAR SOUTHWEST

Photographs by Erwiri E. Smith

BON HAM, TEXAS

A BAD SIGN: A COW-PONY SILENTLY GRAZING UPON A HILL," WITH A ROPE
DRAGGING AND A "DOUBLE HALF-HITCH" AROUND THE POMMEL OF THE
SADDLE IS NEARLY A SURE PROOF THAT EVIL HAS BEFALLEN THE RIDER

443 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

SOUTHWESTERN LANDSCAPE: COWBOYS ENTERING A VAST, SILENT VALLEY

COWBOY USING HIS SOMBERO AS A DRIN KING-CUP

COWBOY LIFE IN THE FAR SOUTHWEST

443

BREAKING A BRONCHO : THE PONY IS FIGHTING WILDLY FOR FREEDOM

^RANDING AT THE ROUNDUP : THE MAN STANDING APPLIES THE HOT IRON

444 NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

HEIFER TRYING TO DODGE BACK INTO THE MAIN HERD

RIDING AROUND THE CATTLE TO KEEP THEM BUNCHED

BONES AND CHARCOAL IN
FLORICULTURE

By Eva Ryman-Gaillard

GIRARD, PENNSYLVANIA

DURING the Winter, when fires must be
kept, and more meat is used than during
the Summer, a supply of bones should be
burned for next year's use as drainage ma-
terial. Throw every bone into the fire and
let it burn until it will break easily when
struck, for bones furnish elements absolutely
essential to plant growth, aside from serving
as drainage material.

Those who burn wood should save, also, a
plentiful supply of charcoal. When there is
a good bed of live coals take out all that can
be spared and pour water over them until
the fire is extinguished. It frequently hap-
pens that when the kitchen work is done
there will be a fine bed of coals in the stove,
or some large embers, and the wise flower-
lover will not fail to convert them into char-
coal for future use.

The bones furnish large per cents, of car-
bon, calcic phosphates and calcic carbonates
for the plants to feed on, while the charcoal
rapidly absorbs moisture and noxious gases
which would make the soil cold and sour,
at the same time that it gives out elements
which are decidedly helpful to the plants in
the way of producing dark, glossy foliage and
vividness of color to the blossoms.

Those unfamiliar with the nature of char-
coal may ask what becomes of the gases ab-
sorbed, and wonder why the plants do not
draw them from the charcoal as easily as
they would from the soil. The reason is
this: — The pores of the charcoal are filled
with condensed oxygen and the gases ab-
sorbed are decomposed by contact with it.
The process of decomposition generates a
warmth which is another reason why char-
coal is one of the best materials to use
around the roots of plants.

If it is possible to save more than is needed
for drainage, powder it and mix with the soil,
not only for pot-plants but around those in
the garden, also. If there is any to spare,
divide with friends who do not burn wood
from which to get the charcoal, and let them
burn their bones in your fire (if they burn
gas ) — you will get the benefit of the heat,
which is intense, and they will have the
burned bones for their plants.

If a large metal pail, or a stone crock, is
kept where it is handy to put both bones and
charcoal into it, the trouble of saving them is
practically nothing, and if it were consider-
able the results would amply repay it.
Knowing how extensively charcoal is used
as a filtering agent in many lines of work,
and that it is given to dyspeptics to neutral-
ize the action of gases in the stomach, it is
easy to understand that it must benefit vege-
table life, and that the one who allows it to
go to waste is wasting what represents
marked improvement in the beauty of all
plants grown, either in pots or in the open
ground.

It is well to know that where large lumps
of charcoal or bone are used as drainage
material they may be purified and made fit
for use again by putting them into the fire

446

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

and letting them get red hot, then throwing
water over them to stop the burning. Those
who buy charcoal will find this hint worth
heeding as it is not always easy to find it for
sale, when wanted.

ALL ABOUT THE SANDMAN
By Eleanor W. F. Bates

ROSLINUALE, MASSACHUSETTS

tA/HERE does the Sandman live, mamma?

He lives with Jacky Horner,
Who took a pie and went with it into the

darkest corner:
It's dream-pie and its plums are dreams all

settled soft within it ;
You have to go to sleep, you know, before

you can begin it.

How does the Sandman look, mamma?
O, like a pretty shadow,

Or like the silver fog that slips across the

morning meadow.
He's beautifully dressed in silk that never

makes a rustle,
And you can't hear him coming if there is

the slightest bustle.

What does the Sandman say, mamma?

He doesn't do much talking;
They say he sings a lullaby when he is out

a-walking ;
And when the darling of my heart is rather

cross or weepy,
Sometimes I think that I can hear him say,

" I'm very sleepy!"

What does the Sandman do, Mamma ?

He finds a little river
And takes the crystal sand that shines

where moonbeams gently quiver,
And sprinkles it so silently, his quiet fingers

stealing
Over your eyelids — notice now, it's just

what you are feeling.

LITTLE HELPS FOR HOME-
MAKERS

For each little help found suited for use in this de-
partment, we award one year's subscription to the
National Magazine. If you are already a subscriber,
YOUR SUBSCRIPTION MUST BE PAID IN FULL TO
DATE IN ORDER TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIS
OFFER. You can then either extend your own term
or send the National to a friend. If your little help
does not appear, it is probably because the same idea
has been offered by someone else before you. Try
again. We do not want cooking recipes, unless you
have one for a new or uncommon dish. Enclose a
stamped and self-addressed envelope if you wish us
to return or acknowledge unavailable offerings.

TO PREVENT A SNEEZE

By A. B.
Minneapolis, Minnesota

My mother taught me this way to shut off a sneeze,
and I have been spared embarrassment and mortifica-
tion by remembering it. When you feel an inclina-
tion to sneeze lay the forefinger across the upper lip,
close under the nose, and press down hard.

LAUNDRY HINTS

By Elizabeth M. Soule

Appleton, Wisconsin

If you wish your clothes to iron easy and retain that
"new" look so desirable, pour one quart of boiled
starch into your last rinsing water.

Mix any dry starch with a little water and before
pouring on the boiling water shave in a little white
soap. No scum will ever form over the top nor will
the irons stick to the clothes.

DARNING STOCKINGS

By ELIZABETH ANDERSON

Cambridge, Massachusetts •

Take a common mosquito netting and sew on hole.
.Draw the yarn in the ordinary way through the meshes,
skipping every other mesh, so that when you darn
crosswise you will have the meshes to darn through.
No matter how large the hole, one can always get it
into good shape, making darning perfectly even, be-
sides saving time.

TO CLEAN PLAYING CARDS

By MAX A. R. BRUNNER
Chicago, Illinois

Soiled playing cards may be cleaned by rubbing over
with a cloth dipped in camphor-spirit. For about
thirt> to fifty cards scarcely more than a thimbleful of
camphor is needed. Another good cleaner is made by
mixing burned magnesia, benzol and a little camphor-
spirit, forming a jelly which is to be kept in an air-
tight tin box and rubbed on the cards to clean them.

WHEN WASHING LETTUCE

By MRS. F. H. BATHEY
Armada, Michigan

When washing lettuce for the table, if the leaves are
held up to the light, the presence of those elusive little
green bugs can be instantly detected.

SEALING A LETTER

By M. W.

Woodford, New York

Sometimes one wants to be sure that a letter cannot
be tampered with. Moisten the flap with the white of
an egg and dry thoroughly. It cannot be pulled open
and steaming has no effect upon it.

THE HOME
TO SOFTEN DRIED LEMONS

447

By H. F. HUBBELL
Willow Springs, Missouri

When lemons have become hard from keeping, cover
them with boiling water and set on back of range a
little while. They will become soft and pliable.

LAMP HINTS
I

By L. F. CHANNON
Washington, D. C.

To increase the light given by a small lamp,
place a mirror directly back of it, so that your
lamp casts its reflection in the mirror. You can easily
see just how much additional light you get from the
mirrcr, by putting a paper between the lamp and the
mirror, and suddenly withdrawing it, noticing how
much lighter the room is.

By MRS. WM. McKELVY
Sulphur Springs, Colorado

A little salt added to the oil of a lamp that gives out
a yellow light will whiten and brighten the light.

TO HAVE MEALY POTATOES

By MRS. ELLA WOODCOCK

Winchendon, Massachusetts

If potatoes are immediately placed in the oven for a
few minutes after taking them from the boiling water
in which they have been cooked, they will be much
more palatable.

THE CARE OF JEWELRY

By W. UNDERWOOD
Hazelton, Pennsylvania

A few drops of ammonia on the under side of a
diamond will clean it immediately and make it very
brilliant.

Jewels are generally wrapped up in cotton and kept
in their cases, but they are subject to tarnish from ex-
posure to the air, and require cleaning. This is done
by preparing clean soapsuds and using fine toilet soap.
Dip any article of gold, silver, gilt or precious stones
into this lye, and dry them by brushing with a soft
brush, or a fine sponge, afterwards with a piece of fine
cloth and lastly with a soft leather. Silver ornaments
may be kept in fine arrowroot, and completely covered
with it.

A FURNACE HINT

By MRS. NANCY COYLE
Smith's Creek, Michigan

When, as often happens, a register refuses to send
out a stream of hot air, if a lighted lamp or candle is
placed on the register for ten or fifteen minutes the
trouble will be remedied. The hot air from the lamp
starts a draft that draws the cold air from the pipe.

TO COOL THE OVEN

By MAY HAMBLIN
Parsonsburg, Maryland

If when you are baking the oven gets too hot, put in
a basin of cold water instead of leaving the door open.
This cools the oven, and the steam arising from the
water prevents the contents burning. When cooking
in a gas oven a basin of water should always be kept
in the oven.

THE "WHITE" MOP-WRINGER

By C. MACQUARIE
San Diego, California

Some months ago I read an " ad " in your magazine
anent the above, offering one free to the first in any
town who would ask her dealer for one and, finding he
did not keep it, would send his name and address to
the White Mop-Wringer Co., Jamaica, Vermont. I
found my smooth dealer offering a totally different
article as the "White," and wrote to the company, but
I didn't quite expect the ad. was genuine, or that I
would get the wringer free. It is so easy to write and
say, "Sorry, but you weren't the first."

But I did get my mop-wringer free, and the sequel
proved it to be quite unique as a labor-saver. You can
use boiling water and can clean carpets in a few min-
utes with a partially wrung mop. Any old kind of a
mop will do.

So you see it pays to read and answer "ads." in the
National.

NEW USE FOR A SAFETY-PIN

By E. B.

New Nork City

The following device proves satisfactory when closet
room is scarce or when hooks are few. Fold a dress-
skirt so that it is in four thicknesses, then through the
center of the four-fold belt, at right angles, run a large
safety-pin, fasten the pin and slip over the hook,
which will hold, in good condition, several skirts hung
in this manner.

RAISING RADISHES

By ETTA GOUDY
Walkerville, Michigan

I select a piece of sandy ground in the corner of my
garden for this crop. Each Spring before sowing I
scatter wood ashes two inches or more in depth, and
mix thoroughly with the soil. No manure is required
and the radishes are always brittle and free from

FOR SENSITIVE TEETH

By W. A. WHEELER
Montour Falls, New York

For sensitive teeth: Dissolve three lime tablets in
a glass of water. Take a mouthful, working it
about between the teeth, retaining as long as conven-
ient. Do this about three times a day and the sensitive-
ness will disappear. Country druggists, as a rule, do
not keep the tablets but any city druggist can supply
you.

HOW TO

CHEAT JACK
By S. L. F.

FROST

Readfield, Maine

When a killing frost has struck tomatoes, grapes or
other tender plants in the early Fall, sprinkle with
cold water early in the morning, before the sun's rays,
reach *he plants, and there will be no damage.

448

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

COOKING HINTS

By HELEN HUBBES

Highland Park, Los Angeles, California

Let the kettle in which mush has been cooked stand
for five minutes before taking up. Then no hard resi-
due will be left sticking to the bottom of the kettle to
be soaked off and thrown away.
II

A quarter of an apple cooked with a quart of cran-
berries takes off 'the crudeness but does not diminish
the tartness.

CLEANING AN OLD CLOCK

By SARAH ISHAM COIT
Roxbury, Connecticut

Have any of the readers of the National a clock they
value, that seems to be near the end of its career of
usefulness: does it skip a beat now and then, and
when it begins to strike seem to be in pain? Let me
tell you what to do. Take a bit of cotton batting, the
size of a hen's egg, dip it in kerosene, and place it on
the floor of the clock, in the corner, shut the door of
the clock and wait three or four days. Your clock will
be like a new one, skip, no more it will strike as of old,
and as you look inside you will find the cotton batting
black with dust. The fumes of the oil loosen the parti-
cles of dust, and they fall, thus cleaning the clock. I
rnve tried it, with success.

HOW TO BOIL EGGS

By ETHEL HEALD MAC DONALD

Bangor, Maine

Pour snuffing boiling water over the required num-
ber of eggs. Set them on the back part of the stove
(where they will simply keep hot) for ten minutes.
Cooked in this way, the whites are not tough. We do
not care for boiled eggs prepared in any other way.

If you wish hard-boiled eggs, let remain twenty
minutes.

But if you wish to use eggs in decorating a salad, or
anything of the kind, cook in the old way, as for this
purpose, you need to have the whites firm and hard, or
you cannot cut them properly.

SLIPPERY NEW SHOES

MRS. K. E. LAWSON
Fort Lee, New York

To prevent small children slipping when wearing
new shoes with smooth soles, rub the soles a few times
over sandpaper.

TYING LOW SHOES

By LEE McCRAE
Memphis, Tennessee

To tie the lacings of shoes so that they will not
come undone at inopportune times and yet be easily
untied when the wearer desires, try the following,
which never fails when correctly done :

Tie the strings as for the ordinary bow-knot, but just
before drawing down the two loops turn one of them
back through the open knot, then draw down securely.
It is unfastened like the common bow-knot by merely
pulling one string. A little practice makes this an ex-
tremely simple process and one is saved the vexation
of loose shoes and trailing strings in public places.

TO KEEP EGGS PERFECTLY
FRESH

By MRS. E. S.
Albany, New York

There are plenty of rules in cook books and maga-
zines, for preserving eggs but with all due respect to
the above authorities I am compelled to say I know of
the one best way of keeping them fresh and fit to
serve upon the table.

My method is as follows : When strictly, freshly
laid, pack them closely, so that one braces the other,
into a small bag, made of strong, loosely-woven cotton
cloth which has short loops of stout twine sewed firm-
ly at its diagonal ends.

Two dozen in a bag are usufficient to handle easily.
When filled, pin or sew the bag carefully together, and
hang by one of the loops on a nail driven into a beam
midway of a well ventilated cellar where a cur-
rent of air circulates freely. Every seventh day end
the bag and hang by the opposite loop.

Don't forget to make the change every week and
with abundance of air circulating the eggs ; will keep
for months, delicate and appetizing as when freshly-
laid.

BABY'S SHAMPOO

By A. E. WILLSON
Hanover, Illinois

If you have trouble with the little ones, when giving
them a shampoo, don't lose your patience because they
object so strenuously to having soapsuds splashed in
their eyes. Take a napkin by the opposite corners and
roll until the remaining corners are formed into a pad.
Pass this around the baby's head and tie with knot at
nape of neck, all superfluous water and soap suds will
be absorbed by the pad, so formed, and baby will be
sweeter and so will you.

MENDING FURS

By MRS. N. N. C.
Craig, Colorado

A good way to mend fur rugs or anything made of
fur, is to fasten the edges together with strips of ad-
hesive plaster on the under side.

WHEN BAKING CAKE

By MRS. HARVEY DORSEY
Moro, Illinois

When removing a cake from the oven after it is
baked, if it does not come out easily wring a cloth out
of cold water, fold, and lay on table : set the hot pan
on this for a few moments and the contents can be
removed smooth and entire without the slightest
difficulty.

TO STRAIGHTEN RUG CORNERS

By MRS. E. E. INSLEE
Hazlehurst, Mississippi

Make stiff flour starch, take your rug to a sunny
place on the portico, turn it upside down, apply the
starch to the corners, and leave the rug to dry.

Nofe and Comment

By FrankPufnam

MAYOR DUNNE AND THE PRESS

EARLY in November I read, in cer-
tain eastern newspapers, dispatches
dated at Chicago, in which it was made
to appear that Mayor Dunne had given
up hope of municipalizing Chicago's
street railways and that he meant to
resign his office. These dispatches ap-
peared to be a part of the regular daily
service of the Associated Press. There
was nothing to indicate that they were
not written in good faith, but I doubted
their accuracy and wrote to Mayor
Dunne, alluding to these items casually
as "Associated Press dispatches," and
asking him if their statements were
correct. His reply was published in the
National Magazine for December. You
will remember he charged in that letter
that there existed in Chicago what
amounted to a "league" of the banks,
the newspapers, the aldermen and the
Associated Press to misrepresent the
movement for municipal ownership and
finally to defeat the public demand for
that reform.

General Manager M. E. Stone in
New York and Mr. Harry Beach of the
Chicago office of the Associated Press
promptly assured me that the dispatches

which I read in the eastern newspapers,
and which I supposed to be Associated
Press dispatches, were not so in fact;
that the Associated Press had never sent
out any such dispatches. Insofar as
Mayor Dunne included the Associated
Press in his list of the foes of public
ownership upon my testimony, it is my
duty to tender apologies to the mayor
and the gentlemen of the Associated
Press, which I cheerfully do. Except as
to his general reputation, I have not the
pleasure of knowing Mr. Stone, but
I do know Mr. Beach and when he tells
me a thing is so, I know that it is so.

So far, so good: the Associated Press
is acquitted of sending out inaccu-
rate and injurious reports concerning
Mayor Dunne and the Municipal Owner-
ship movement. Can we also acquit the
Associated Press of unfairly ignoring the
important news features of this move-
ment? Not until we receive a satisfac-
tory explanation of its failure to use any
part of the mayor's sensational letter in
its news report for the night of Monday,
November 20, when the letter was re-
leased for general circulation. Ob-
viously, this failure on the part of the

450

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

Associated Press might have been due
to one of those lapses of judgment of
which all are guilty at times, or it might
have been due to a design to smother
the mayor's charges.

I asked Mr. Stone for light on this
point. He replied saying that the asso-
ciated Press knew nothing about the
Dunne letter until after it was published
in the Record-Herald. This seems to
me to be a palpable evasion, since the
news-reporters of the Associated Press
have access to the proof-sheets of the
papers to which the letter was sent by
wire early on the evening of November
20.

Mr. Stone irritably assumes that I
made a "charge of partisanship against
the Associated Press," in my letter to
Mayor Dunne. Therein he errs: I did
not charge that the dispatches which I
supposed to be the work of the Associated
Press were "partisan, "or that I believed
them to be sent out with deliberate in
tent to mislead. I merely said that I
doubted their accuracy. Mr. Stone's
readiness to defend where no attack was
made foments the very doubt that it was
meant to allay.

I wished Mr. Stone to reply to Mayor
Dunne over his own signature, but he
believes that it is the duty of the author
of an error to correct that error, and in
this I quite agree with him. And al-
though his explanation of the failure of
the Associated Press to make use of
Mayor Dunne's letter will hardly satisfy
anyone familiar with the way in which
Associated Press news is gathered, yet I
am willing, by way of making complete
reparation for the wrong that I have in-
nocently done him, to accept even that ex-
planation at its face value, confident
that, whatever it may have done or left
undone in the past, the Associated
Press will not soon hereafter either over-
look or suppress any such widely in-
teresting news matter as Mayor Dunne's
letter on "Chicago's Street Railway
Deadlock."

It may be interesting, remembering
the mayor's charge that the Chicago
newspapers are leagued against him and
his municipal ownership program, to
know that whereas I offered his letter to
all the morning papers of Chicago — the
Chronicle alone excepted — on the even-
ing of November 20, only one, the
Record-Herald, ordered it. I excepted
the Chronicle because that paper has
never been so much a public journal as
the organ of a bank; it has openly and
bitterly fought public ownership at every
step, and was therefore presumptively
unwilling to give space to the mayor's
complaint and his arguments.

Any man that has ever served news-
papers will understand without straining
his brain the meaning of this all but
unanimous failure by the Chicago morn-
ing newspapers to take and print the
mayor's letter. It means either that the
news editors of the Chicago papers have
orders to smother Mayor Dunne and his
propaganda, or that those news editors
are unable to recognize news when they
see it — and that is unbelievable. From
this rule the Record-Herald must be
excepted, — the Record-Herald printed
the mayor's letter entire, and the next
day he stated that in the news col-
umns of that paper he had always been
treated fairly. Inasmuch as its editorial
page can have little or no influence
when it argues against the deep con-
victions of a majority of the voters of
Chicago, the mayor can afford to forgive
its proprietors for holding opinions con-
trary to his own.

As for any of the other papers that
Mayor Dunne may feel have wronged
him and the big majority he represented,
he can content himself with the phil-
osophical reflection that insofar as they
betray the public by failing in their duty
to print the news of the day fairly and
fully, they will certainly lose their read-
ers and their advertisers to other more
progressive journals.
I know, and Mr. Stone knows, that the

NOTE AND COMMENT

451

private owners of the Chicago street rail-
ways have used, and will continue to
use, every agency they can command to
defeat the movement for public owner-
ship: precisely what any of us would do
were we in their place. Equally with
himself I perceive, and the general pub-
lic will instantly perceive, the utter im-
morality of any attempt that might be
made by these private holders of public
property to make an inequitable use of
the Associated Press.

For it is of the first importance that
we get our news honestly, fairly, impar-
tially set before us. If we do that, and
then allow the slick journalistic Hessians
of the editorial pages to bamboozle us,
it is our own fault and there was no
hope for us in the first place. The Asso-
ciated Press has what amounts to almost
a monopoly of the general news service
in this country. We could better toler-
ate a thousand venal editorial writers
than to permit the management of the
Associated Press to rest for one minute
under suspicion of deliberate unfairness
in its treatment of any part of the
news.

It is possible that Mayor Dunne is not
the right man to lead the public owner-
ship fight in Chicago: he is at any rate
the man the people chose to lead it, and
the more often he is or even appears to
be unfairly assailed by the foes of the
public ownership movement, the more
firmly will the voting majority be-
come convinced that he is the right man
in the right place. Certainly none of
the several gentlemen of Chicago who
have written to me to criticise his letter
in the December National has imputed
to the mayor impure or unworthy mo-
tives. In their opinion he is somewhat
too sudden, too hasty. They would have
him ponder, and doubt, and delay. In-
stead, he has offered a fair, square pro-
gram for carrying out the mandate of the
people for "immediate municipal owner-
ship," and a faithless city council ma-
jority, diverted from its duty to its con-

stituencies, has advanced from passive
to active treason, and is now engaged in
an attempt to fasten upon Chicago twenty
years more of private ownership, with
its black record of graft, greed and
boodle, its reckless mismanagement and
its total disregard of the public welfare.

WHAT NEW ENGLAND NEEDS

MEW ENGLAND has two of the fac-
tors of wealth — cheap water power
and cheap labor. She needs cheap raw
material and open markets. Without
them, she will see her shoe factories one
by one follow her cotton mills into the
region of the raw material — West and
South. If any man is qualified to testify
and be heard respectfully upon this
point, that man is Governor William L.
Douglas. He has built up and success-
fully conducts a big business employ-
ing an army of contented men and
women, he is a conservative, and he
says Massachusetts needs freer trade
both in raw materials and the finished
products of her factories and mills. His
successor, Governor-elect Curtis Guild,
equally recognizes the gravity of the
situation. Either of these men, if he
represented Massachusetts in the United
States senate, would work and vote for
such modifications of our trade relations
with Canada as would permit Massachu-
setts factories profitably to utilize the
hides and lumber and coal of the Do-
minion. Senator Lodge, it is explained
by one of his recent interpreters, prides
himself upon his "statesmanlike" recog-
nition of the fact that Massachusetts
"cannot get what she wants." What
Massachusetts needs first and most is
a group of representatives in congress
who will make a fight for Massachusetts'
interests. A statesman is a man who
builds a state, not one who, holding
great power and large responsibility,
sits cynically by and watches the state
decline for lack of stout fighting that
might save it.

452

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for JANUARY, 1906

A BOOK OF LOVE-SONGS

CHARLOTTE EATON'S "DESIRE"
is A WORK OF QUITE UNCOMMON
ARTISTRY AND POWER, BEAUTIFUL
AND ALLURING AND PROVOCATIVE

IT is of no very great importance that
one woman — or a hundred of them —
should write love-songs—even very good
love-songs, since love-songs speak no
progress, mark no change in our condi-
tion: love-songs were, ere men and
women had more speech than amorous
growls and gurgles. It is of the highest
significance that even one woman should
prove her ability to grasp a scientific
concept and give it articulate utterance.
The more poets the merrier, to be
sure; and every wren upon a bough
makes this grim world seem kindlier
and more desirable. The thrushes in
the bushes sing and sway and swell their
little hearts — and the hearts of all that
hear them — with tender, mystical glad-
ness; and even the shade-seeking whip-
poorwill's melodious iteration adorns
the misty sadness it inspires. How like
a saucy wren are many merry singers of
cheery little songs — the Father Tabbs,
the Aldriches, the Vance Cheneys, the
Clinton Scollards? What is Whitcomb
Riley but a thrush disguised in human
form? I warrant he once wore feathers
— naturally, you understand. And none
may doubt that in Charlotte Eaton's
brain, what while she wrought the book
"Desire", a whippoorwill was nested.
It is a hundred love-songs in a single
key — of desire. Rare fine songs, many
of them, in the spirit and the form of
the early Greeks, of the ancient Celtic
bards, of Whitman. A genuine achieve-
ment, these love-songs. But of more im-
portance, in my opinion, though obvi-
ously not in the opinion of the author,
are the few pieces in which she utters,
without doubt or hesitation, profound
truths concerning the vaster issues of
man's meaning and his destiny. Men

seem of little worth — nature makes and
slays them in myriads, carelessly, even
scornfully; man appears to have some
mission not yet fulfilled, for nature
visibly spares his seed, while scourging
him ever onward to serener heights.

"SONNETS TO A WIFE"

ERNEST MCGAFFEY'S CLASSIC SE-
QUENCE IN A CHARMING NEW
" EDITION PUBLISHED BY WILLIAM
MARION REEDY OF ST. Louis

THROUGHOUT the West every lover
of good poetry knows and admires
the work of Ernest McGaffey. He is
among the first half-dozen living Ameri-
can poets in the excellence and author-
ity of his poetical writings. Perhaps his
most notable achievement is the series
of seventy sonnets entitled, "Sonnets to
a Wife," now republished in a binding
of rare beauty by William Marion
Reedy of St. Louis. (

This sonnet sequence is a gallery
of pictures, stamped every one with
sincerity, sympathy and deep love
of nature. No breath of impure sug-
gestion mars the strong, sweet, sing-
ing lines, nor any lurking cynicism: .
they are the full-flavored product of a
sane man's love in sound maturity.
The "Sonnets" will, I venture to be-
lieve, be added to the classics of
American poetry.

It would be difficult to select a
more gracious gift for a friend of
gentle mind and bookish tastes, whether
man or woman. And we owe some-
thing more than posthumous praise
to these our native artists, who give so
much and ask so little, do we not? But
most of all, we, even the hardest driven,
owe it to ourselves to take time from
the daily grind in which to become
acquainted with, to know and love
these our Spartan singers, disdaining
fortune for the nobler lure of fame.

ONE OF UNCLE SAM'S GIFTS
Photo by L K. Howe

SHEBOYGAN, CITY OF CHEESE, CHAIRS
AND CHILDREN

By Winfred C . Howe

IT is the legendary age, perhaps. A
big chief, fresh from a far foray, comes
riding up to his wigwam, about which
a half-dozen or more dirty-faced pap-
pooses are playing in the mud. The
squaw comes out to greet her valiant
lord and master, and holds up for his
inspection and approval a bundle all
compact, but spoils it all by explaining,
"She-boy 'gan." This is too much.
This greeting is becoming too monoton-
ous. Nine snows have come and gone;
and nine returning suns have brought
the disappointment with which she-boys
in contradistinction to he-boys are cal-
culated to affect the warlike soul. The
chief faces his charger about and mourn-

fully passes among the tents, muttering
as he goes, "She boy 'gan." He finally
arrives before the wigwam where so-
journs the French trader. "Ugh," he
says, "She-boy 'gan. Firewater." The
Frenchman, touched by a human sym-
pathy that knows neither Jew nor Gen-
tile, redskin nor paleface, administers
the liquid consolation in fraternal
fashion; yet ever after the tearful re-
frain "She-boy 'gan," seems to rever-
berate in his brain, and as he tells the
tragic tale to fellow voyageurs, our city
begins her march to fame.

Sheboygan's reputation should now be
secure.

First of all, it should be secure on

SHEBOYGAN, CITY OF CHEESE, CHAIRS AND CHILDREN

account of her noble adher-
ence to her noblest tradi-
tions.

In the matter of race sui-
cide, Sheboygan is sounder
than ever. While driving
along her streets the visitor
now not only beholds child-
ren falling off the roofs of
residences and roosting on
telegraph poles; but he finds
it humane to walk before the
horse and brush the little
ones to right and left in
order to open a clear path
way for the hoofs of the
steed. And the glory of it
all is that the sexes are now
equally represented, thus
making marriages possible
early and often in each ris-
ing generation. One of
Sheboygan's most highly ap-
preciated citizens, for ex-
ample, is crowned with a
galaxy of twenty-two hope-
fuls, almost evenly divided
between the scriptural sons
and daughters, or in the less
discriminating nomenclature
of the untutored savage, he-
boys and she-boys. Again,
when LaSalle and his men,
in 1679, were cast up by the
angry breakers on the bleak,
glacier- marked rocks of
North Point, there was here
an Indian village of many na-
tions— Pottawatomies, Sacs
and Foxes, Chippewas,
Winnebagoes, etc. Sheboy-
gan is still a city of many
nations. The red man, it
is true, now sleeps beneath
the dark and stately pines
that stretch for miles be-
yond our beautiful Black
river. But the Yankee and
the Celt have come, with the

SHEBOYGAN, CITY OF CHEESE, CHAIRS AND CHILDREN

Teuton on their heels, while the German
and the Dutchman have been close pur-
sued by the Viking, and all more re-
cently by Russian Jew and Lithuanian,
by Croatian, Slovak and Slovene and all
other varieties from Franz Josef's curi-
osity shop. Last, but best of all, come
those whose fathers held the pass at
Thermopylae in the brave days of old.
Sheboygan is still, beyond all American
cities of its size, a Mingling of the Na-
ions, an Epitome of Europe.

Thus supported by the swelling tide
of present day immigration, and a pious
obedience to the divine commandment
that has, on the whole, been best obeyed,
— that of the first of Genesis — is it any
wonder that Sheboygan thrives and pros-
pers? Is it any wonder that her popula-
tion has grown from 7,500 in 1880 to
ever 24,000 in 1905, — a gain of over 200
per cent. — twice that of any other large
Wisconsin city, except Superior of mush-
room celebrity?

So much for children and other means
of increase of population. Now for
cheese. The Sheboygan County Dairy
Boards of Trade sell annually 8,000,000
pounds of cheese, or almost one-half of
all the cheese sold in this great dairying
state of Wisconsin. But this is not all.
Of the 1 1 6 cheese factories in Sheboygan
County, only sixty-five sell their product
in the county. All elements considered,
$1,500,000 is paid annually for Sheboy-
gan County cheese. So enormous is the
Sheboygan County output of cheese that
a careful mathematical computation,
hopefully begun and laboriously con-
cluded, leads us to the astonishing result
that Sheboygan County, alone and un-
aided, could at this rate produce an
amount of first class, full cream, Ameri-
can cheese equal to the total volume of
the moon in only 11,317,752,611,917,-
564^ years.' Gentlemen writing up
other cities would do well to note these
figures. We challenge a comparison.

But Sheboygan' s most notable glory
is her chairs. In regard to children,

there is always more or less uncertainty
both as to quality and quantity of out-
put. Sheboygan may yet fall into such
deplorable conditions concerning child-
ren as have subjected so many an effete
eastern community to the president's
special censure. So also in the matter
of cheese. Astronomy teaches that our
moon has not always been thus. Why
then should Sheboygan County cheese
always maintain its world - celebrated
standard? But it is different with chairs.
Sheboygan is so far ahead on chairs that
it is beyond human comprehension to
conceive of a time when she will be
beaten. Her chairs are as durable as
adamant. A man can toss them at his
wife in the calm assurance that they will
remain uninjured. In chairs, Sheboy-
gan is indeed ahead in every respect.
She has the largest single chair factory
in the world. She has the largest num-
ber of chair factories in the world. She
turns out more chairs than any other
city in the world. She ships them into
all parts of the world, from competing
Austria to the Australian antipodes. She
sells them for almost $4,000,000 annually.
This, however, does not exhaust She-
boygan's C's. Individuals of facetious
instincts have from time to time at-
tempted to add a fourth to the three
traditional ones. Churches and clubs?
canning and crayfish have all been sug-
gested. But when new industries are
coming to Sheboygan at the rate of
above one every other month, we cannot
find a place for all of them in our cata-
logue.

We have indeed sought so far to dilute
actual truth and other prejudicial matter
as much as possible. But justice to the
welfare of the reader demands that we
should now at once prepare him for the
immediate reception of a great mass of
information, reliable, well authenticated,
encyclopedic and unwelcome, — unless
he has an eye for an investment or for
a new home. If in quest of fiction, let
the reader now turn to the daily press.

SHEBOYGAN, CITY OF CHEESE, CHAIRS AND CHILDREN

SOLDIFRS' MONUMENT AND PINES PRIMEVAL
Photo by O. M. Grot & Bro.

Let him not learn : —

That Sheboygan has the largest coal
dock on Lake Michigan and the largest
salt docks on the Great Lakes.

That Sheboygan has good railway
facilities and a harbor perhaps unsur-
passed on the lakes, thanks to enormous
government appropriations.

That Sheboygan has a leading glove
factory and knitting works.

That Sheboygan has a large canning
establishment and a seed house that sup-
plies much of Europe with peas and
beans.

That Sheboygan has large tanneries
and shoe factories.

That Sheboygan has the largest excel-
sior factory in Wisconsin and extensive
wood-working industries.

That Sheboygan has immense malt
houses and breweries and bottles a min-
eral water celebrated throughout the
East and South.

That Sheboygan has first class librar-
ies, opera houses and three well edited
daily newspapers and five weeklies.

That Sheboygan has a large piano
plant.

That Sheboygan has the largest furni-
ture factory in Wisconsin and the largest
veneer factory in the world.

That Sheboygan has four banks, none
of which failed in the panic of 1893, as
did so many banks in many other furni-
ture cities.

That Shebo}'gan is a city of homes,
our Building and Loan Association pos-

sessing a widely distributed capital stock
of $2,500,000.

That Sheboygan has a massive toy
factory to supply its children and what-
ever other children may happen to be
found elsewhere.

In addition to all these advantages,
Sheboygan's climate is equable; her
sceneiy is picturesque; her mineral water
healthful; Elkhart and Crystal Lakes,
unrivalled Summer resorts, within easy
reach; fishing good and fish also pur-
chasable at the tugs when they come in ;
her women are beautiful, — as all women
are, — and her citizens not only cosmo-
politan but also cultured and classical.

All languages are spoken in Sheboy-
gan, including several varieties of Eng-
lish. Of the latter, this is a specimen
overheard this invigorating morning
during a walk for a Thanksgiving appe-
tite. A leading alderman and boy
loquntur:

The boy: "Will you get into this
carriage, now once?"

The alderman: "Nein, must attend
to the furnace, yet first."

But in the department of genuine cul-
ture with the Bostonian brand blown in
the bottle, Sheboygan is likewise sound.

HIGH SCHOOL: WHERE THE CHILDREN ARE
PERFECTED

Photo by G. M. Grot & Bro.

Book houses report this city one of their
best fields; Sheboygan's Woman's Club
is progressive and in pursuit of the ex-
president; her Contemporary Club is pro-
found, philosophical and public spirited;
her Euterpean Fraternity is capable of

SHEEOYGAN, CITY OF CHEESE, CHAIRS AND CHILDREN

going into hysterics at ragtime, a chromo
or any other truly inspiring bit of art.

Sheboygan is also classical. Down on
Indiana avenue there are enough signs of
Zuthopelieon Ellen ikon (Greek Saloon)
to give the shade of Themistocles a thirst,
and enough signs of Koreion Ellenikon
(Greek Barber Shop) to remind the
shade of Socrates to extend the palm of
his hand to the crown of his head with
a view of determining whether the latest
elixir has taken effect. It does a student
of the classics good to walk on Indiana
avenue, Sheboygan, Wisconsin.

Thus Sheboygan is booming and keep-
ing up the race neck and neck with her
old rival, Chicago, the other great city
on the lakes. If Chicago has a popula-
tion of a million or two more people than
Sheboygan, Sheboygan has more of the
earth's first true nobility in whose veins
flows the blood of Aristophanes and
Euripides. If Chicago produces more

beer, Sheboygan produces more mineral
water, capable truly of assuaging thirst
and that headache that comes the morn-
ing after. Then why should Sheboygan
feel discouraged at continuing the con-
test with Chicago?

All in all, what Sheboygander cannot
echo from the depths of his heart the
sentiment recently uttered before the
Contemporary Club by Sheboygan' s best
loved patriarch, the Honorable Thomas
M. Blackstock, for the last fifty-five years
identified with the upbuilding of the
city's manufacturing interests:

"I have never seen the day, the hour,
nor the minute, since I came here, when
the thought entered my mind for one
single passing moment that I had any
desire to leave Sheboygan and make my
home elsewhere; for the simple reason
that, for me at least, there never was,
and probably never will be, any 'else-
where' quite as good."

NORTH I'OINT: WORK OK THE WAVES IN \V1NTKK
Photo by L. K. Howj

TYPICAL SECTION OF ELMIRA'S BUSY BUSINESS QUARTER
Photos by C. F. Fudge

ELMIRA, NEW YORK

The Story of a Successful City

By Roy S. Smith, Secretary of the Chamber of Commerce

BEAUTIFULLY located in the pic-
turesque Chemung Valley, the center
of a hustling, thriving community not
alone confined to the limits of the pros-
perous city itself, its streets lined with
successful business houses and handsome
homes, and including within its boun-
daries many busy factories, Elmira, New
York, presents to the prospective resi-
dent a most attractive view and deserves
its title — "The Queen City of the South-
ern Tier."

With its political parties united in a
common choice and cause, with one of its
leading citizens as a fusion mayor, with
an active, aggressive chamber of com-
merce, a hustling business men's asso-
ciation and a united, harmonious popula-
tion working with the one aim in view
a progressive, successful city — the com-

munity presents a most interesting study
to the student of municipal affairs! '

Elmira is the county seat of Chemung
County, rich in Indian lore and tradition
of the early days. It was in 1788 that
Captain John Hendy, wending his way
over the wooded hills, gazed down for
the first time upon the peaceful Chemung
. Valley, selected an attractive little spot
near what is now West Water street,
felled trees in the massive woods and
erected his little log cabin, — the first in
the settlement. That cabin stands today,
a relic of the past, marking in its com-
parison with the mansions of the resi-
dential district, the era of progress of
the city. From that little crook in the
pathway from Wilkesbarre to Canada, in
which Captain Hendy settled, Elmira
has grown through successive stages in

ELMIRA, NEW YORK

history to its present position, one of the
leading cities between New York and
Chicago.

The Indians early discovered the im-
portance of the location, and at one time
seven different tribes or villages were
within the boundaries of what is now
the city. Many a fierce Indian conflict
was waged and hundreds of bronzed
warriors and brave soldiers went to the
"happy hunting ground" during the bat-
tles, skirmishes and massacres that oc-
curred in the vicinity.

The city is located on a level plain in
the centre of a great natural highway
from the lakes to the coal fields. The
valley of the Chemung river, which
waterway bisects the city proper, wends
its way through the hills so that railroads
can be constructed running in any direc-
tion from Elmira. The shipping facili-
ties are such that a merchant is fortunate
to have his business within Elmira's
limits, situated as it is 265 miles from
New York City, 147 miles from Buffalo
and 725 miles from Chicago by direct
route. The city is convenient to both
anthracite and bituminous coal fields and

connected with pipe line with abundant
natural gas fields, so that present and
prospective manufacturers are assured of
cheap fuel.

Almost like spokes of a wheel, run the
railroad lines from the city. The four
trunk roads, — the Erie, Lackawanna,
Pennsylvania and Lehigh extend north
and south, east and west while theTioga
Division of the Erie makes its way di-
rectly into the soft coal fields of Pennsyl-
vania bringing the products of these
mines to the city within a few hours. In
addition these roads make direct and
quick connections with the New York
Central; Buffalo & Susquehanna; Pitts-
burg, Shawmut & Northern; Deleware
& Hudson, Philadelphia & Reading;
Rome, Watertown & Ogdensburg and
other roads. Statistics show that no
less than two hundred and twenty-five
freight trains either pass through the
city or are made up in the local yards
every day and shippers enjoy the same
freight rates to the south as New York
and Philadelphia. Freight schedules
call for delivery the following morning
in New York City, Buffalo, Harrisburg,

LOOKING EASTWARD DOWN THE CHEMUNG VALLEY — WESTERN SUBURBS IN THE

BACKGROUND

ELMIRA, NEW YORK

ELMIRA'S ARTISTIC CITY HALL

Syracuse and Scranton; the second
morning in Philadelphia, Pittsburg,
Cleveland, Albany and Toronto, the
third morning in Chicago, Cincinnati,
and Boston.

Elmira is an exchange and reshipping
center for the Wells-Fargo, the United
States and Adams express companies.
No city has a more complete system of
express deliveries to all parts of the
country. Twenty-seven miles of track-
age make up the city's street car
lines, with twenty-one miles of sur-
burban roads, and the uniform trans-
fer system prevails. The city is con-
nected by high speed electric road
with beautiful Seneca Lake twenty-
one miles away to the north. At the
terminal of the line at the lake is located
Watkins with its famous glen which con-
tains scenery unsurpassed in this coun-
try. An hour's ride through a beautiful
country brings the Elmiran to this strik-
ingly handsome resort with a choice of
glen or lake to visit. Companies have
been organized to construct in the
spring, trolly lines to Waverly, eighteen
miles southeast of the city on the Penn-
sylvania state line and to Corning, six-
teen miles westward. This belt of elec-
tric lines will bring Elmira in immediate
touch with every section of one of the
richest farming communities in the east.
These roads will carry freight and pass-
engers. Residents of the farming dis-
tricts will be able to reach Elmira with
their products quickly and the merchants
can at the same time ship their wares to
every section of the surrounding terri-
tory. These roads will likewise bring
Corning and Waverly people into one
hour's communicaton with the city, mak-
ing Elmira the purchasing center of a
population of 150,000 people located

within a radius of twenty-five miles.

Con-e-wa-wah, or "head on a pole,"
was the first Indian name applied to the
settlement because of the fact that the
head of an Indian chief was found thus
mounted at one time. For some time
after its founding the town struggled
along under the name of Newton, but
one Moses De Witt happened along in
1791, made the first survey for the settle-
ment and erecting the first frame house,
calmly dubbed the future city DeWitts-
burg.

The first stage of marked progress
came with the construction of the Che-
mung canal in 1832. That early water-
way connected the city with Seneca lake
and opened up shipping. It was the
predecessor of the first railroads and the
opening up of these arteries of commerce
has been chiefly responsible for the
sturdy growth of Elmira.

It was not long ago that a score of the
principal business men of the city met
by chance. It was suggested that, while
the city was progressive, it was not ad-
vancing in the degree that its transporta-
tion facilities, power plants, healthful
conditions and natural beauties war-
ranted. It was decided that a Chamber
of Commerce should be organized. The
movement grew, enthusiasm spread and
the Chamber of Commerce soon became
a hustling reality. A large fund was
raised by subscription to aid in advanc-
ing the city's interests and to let manu-
facturers of the whole world know of its
advantages, at the same time offering in-
ducements to bring them to Elmira.

The city had long been a hotbed of
political activity, and the leading mem-
bers of the newly organized chamber of
commerce realized that factional politi-
cal strife was detrimental to the best in-
terests of the city. Accordingly the

THE NOTED I'ARK CHURCH (CONGREGATIONAL)

ELMIRA, NEW YORK

OFFICE AND FEDERAL COURT HOUSE

leaders of the respective parties were
brought together and after conference
a fusion was brought about. The leaders
ot the movement selected as their joint
candidate for Mayor, Mr. Z. R. Brock-
way, one of the most noted penologists
in the country. For years Mr. Brockway
was general superintendent of the Elmira
reformatory. He was its first chief ex-
ecutive officer and established in this
institution a sjstem for the reformation
of young criminals that became noted the
world over and brought prison officials
from many foreign countries to study its
methods. Several years ago Mr. Brock-
way retired and will enter upon his
mayoralty duties the first of the year
untrammeled by political affiliations or
business cares. He will make a busi-
ness of being mayor and the city is
promised one of the most remarkable
administrations any municipality of the
state has known. A great student of
political economy, Mr. Brockway will
have the entire moral and physical sup-
port of the best citizenship. Under his
guidance municipal affairs can only pro-
gress satisfactorily. The city today is
slightly under forty thousand in popula-
tion. "Fifty thousand in 1910," is the
slogan of the progressive movement.
The consummation of this plan will raise
Elmira from a city of the third class to
one of the second class.

The records of the state board of
health show that it leads as a healthy
community, its death rate being remark-
ably low. This is due in a large measure
to the excellent water system, with a
reservoir capacity of 113 000,000 gallons
and 46 miles of iron mains. The city
has never known a scarcity of water dur-
ing any season. The community is 857
feet above sea level.

The people of the city are particularly
loyal. That they are of a social nature
is shown by the existence of about 200
social organizations including attractive
clubs for men and women. For outdoor
recreation there is a fine country club
with excellent equipment for golf and all
open air sports. The park system is
elaborate, Eldridge park and Rorick's
glen being famous throughout the country
as pleasure resorts.

The city enjoys civic prestige. A fine
city hall, the great stone postoffice, the
Federal court house, the State armory,
are among the buildings of city pride.
A total of 157 miles of street, many of
them paved with asphalt, brick and
stone, and all well lighted and kept
beautifully clean make riding and driving
a pleasure. In the city departments this
excellent housekeeping also prevails.
The fire department, a model of its
kind, includes four fire stations fully
equipped wtih apparatus and a paid de-
partment. The police department,
feared by crooks the country over, is
headed by Chief F. J. Cassada, promi-
nent among the police chiefs of the
country, an officer of their organization
and president of the state association
of chiefs.

The school system is one in which the
city takes great pride. Elmira is the
home of famous Elmira college, the most
historic woman's educational institution
in the country. This grand old college,
from which have graduated many noted
women was the first to grant to women
a degree similar to those conferred by
men's colleges. There are thirty educa-
tional institutions in the city, including
a splendid high school, graded schools
and commercial and railroad training
schools.

THE MAIN BUILDING OF HISTORIC ELMIRA

KLMIRA, NEW YORK

The banking facilities are unsurpassed.
Two national banks and one trust com-
pany have a combined capital, surplus
and profits of #1,700,000, with deposits
°f #7>253>502; loans and discounts of
#3)745>67i; bonds and securities of
#3,673,510. In addition to these there
is a savings bank and four building and
loan associations; also one building com-
pany, with a combined capital of over
$2,500,000.

To summarize the manufacturing situa-
tion it is only necessary to state that in
the 400 establishments of the city over
5,000 wage earners are employed and the
total capital thus invested is about
#7,500,000 while the annual wages aggre-
gate $2,000,000. With this a product
estimated at $8,500,000 is turned out.

The manufacturing business covers a
wide field and many concerns realizing
the advantages of the city, are negotiat-
ing for locations. A mammoth fire en-
gine plant, bridge works, steel and iron
rolling mills, silk and cotton mills, wood
pipe factory, large railroad shops, fur-
niture plant and lumber mills of all
kinds, immense tobacco warehouses,
large marble and granite cutting estab-
lishments, sash and door factory, cut
glass factory and carriage makers are
among the leading hives of industry in
the city.

One of the potent factors in Elmira's
commercial success is the entire lack of
labor troubles. The employer and em-
ploye live at peace and there is no cloud
on the industrial horizon. This is due
in a measure to the diversified character
of the industries of the city.

Elmira has given to the state two gov-
ernors, the late Honorable Lucius Rob-
inson and the Honorable David Bennett
Hill. The latter started his career in
Elmira as a lawyer. The Honorable J.
Sloan Fassett and the Honorable John B.
Stanchfield, leaders respectively of the
Republican and Democratic organiza-
tions and both gubernatorial candidates
in elections of the past, are men much
in the lime light of today. The Arnot
family, whose name has been most
prominently identified with the history
of Elmira from its inception, as the
wealthiest and most influential, is repre-
sented today by Mathias H. Arnot, presi-
dent of the Chemung Canal Trust com-
pany, formerly the old Chemung Canal
bank. Rents are moderate, the tax rate is
low, natural gas lessens the cost of fuel
and light and contributes to comfort and

THE COURT BUILDINGS AND
LIBRARY

SUPREME COURT

ease and the necessities of life are rela-
tively cheap, because of the surrounding
farming section. Splendid schools,
many parks, high class theatrical attrac-
tions for both winter and summer at
moderate cost, an excellent city govern-
ment, and a loyal people all serve to
make Elmira an ideal home city. No
manufacturer will lose valuable help
through locating in this city. The
hotel accomodations are first class.
Three hospitals are splendidly equipped.
Forty-five rfligious institutions embrac-
ing every denomination and faith have
property including some of the hand-
somest churches in the state. Three
daily and one Sunday newspapers and
about ten other publications of various
sorts keep residents posted on current
events. The New York State reforma-
tory, located in Elmira, is in itself a sub-
ject of such interest that an entire publi-
cation could be devoted to it.

Prominent business men, leaders in
the various lines of activity, are at the
head of the chamber of commerce.
They are working with an industrial
fund to secure additional manufacturies.
Every proposition of merit will be re-
ceived with interest and given every
consideration. Many available sites are
ready for the erection of factories. The
conditions already reviewed warrant the
claim that no city in the country can
offer better inducements to manufac-
turers than can Elmira. John M. Con-
nelly, is president; Howard E. Baker,
first vice president; Samuel E. Thorp,
second vice president; Andrew F. Wer-
denberg, third vice president; Jervis
Langdon, treasurer; trustees — John
Brand, Roy Tompkins, D. M. Pratt, N.
J. Thompson, Elmer Dean.

All Elmirans BELIEVE in Elmira
and "50,000 in 1910."

KEYS ON THE FLORIDA COAST

THE RAILROAD OVER THE OCEAN SURF

By Joe Mitchell Chappie

IVJEXT to the building of the Panama
canal, one of the most remarkable
and important transportation enterprises
under way is the extension of the Florida
East Coast railroad from Miami, Florida,
to the tip of the gulf at Key West. A
glance at the map shows a long string of
islands leading off the southern point of
Florida. Along these "keys" (or
islands) Henry M. Flagler is now con-
structing a railway which will bring New
York and Key West into direct rail com-
munication. From Key West a car ferry
will transport a train of thirty cars to
Havana, and the gulf and straits will be
made a veritable harbor of commerce.
The spirit of expansion has blazed the
path, and the prcixt is going rapidly

onward.

# # *

It was inspiring to hear Mr. Flagler,
in his New York office, speak in his
simple, concise way, of this great under-
taking.

"The practicability of the project has
been proven, the surveys made, — work
begun, and New York and Key West
will be connected by rail."

These words were uttered by a man
who has been prominently identified

with the development of the Southeast
and of Florida in particular; probably
no name is more revered in that state
than the name of Henry M. Flagler, on
account of the constructive work and
effort which he has lavished on that ter-
ritory. Less than a quarter of a century
ago he pinned his faith on the land of
Ponce de Leon, when the famous hotel of
that name was built, converting Florida
from a struggling sanatarium rendez-
vous into a great and popular pleasure
resort. To give in detail what he has
done in this state would be to write the
recent history of Florida; for to the vigor
and energy of this one man may be
traced the development of rich agricul-
tural tracts from the vast wastes formerly
familiar to the traveler. The courses of
rivers have been changed, or obstruc-
tions removed, large areas have been
drained, and every obstacle to the full
development of the country has been, so
far as possible, removed; and now, as
the climax of a great career, the famous
Keys of the Gulf Coast are to be con-
quered. For one man to fearlessly ex-
pend $20,000,000 in developing a state
is an action without parallel in the his-
tory of a nation.

THE RAILROAD OVER THE OCEAN SURF

I listened emvrapt to one whose life
is a chronicle of constructive force which
reads like a romance. Mr. Flagler is a
genuine captain of industry, and he led
the way to the Peninsula state. His
palatial hotels have made the east coast
of Florida the American Riviera, and
their construction was a bold stroke in
the battle of development, but it con-
quered. The keen eye of the projector
saw what might be done with the natural
resources of the state, and he did it.
Now, at the age of seventy-six this mas-
ter mind is undertaking a project which
at first seemed to present insurmountable
obstacles, because of engineering diffi-
culties, but Mr. Flagler said when the
Panama canal was decided on he deter-
mined to put the Key West problem to
the test, and learn the facts as to the
feasibility of the railroad. There were
all manner of drawbacks to encounter,
such as tides, currents, winds; but once
the practicability was proven it was

promptly decided that the road would

be built.

* # *

Mr. Flagler turned in his office chair
and handed me the memoranda of the
work, and I saw that the distance from
Miami to Key West is 154 miles; the
railroad already extending twenty-eight
miles of this distance to Homestead.
Sixty miles of this road is on solid rock
embankments through the water of the
ocean, separating the mainland from
Key West. Of the entire distance only
sixty-five miles of road will be on the
islands, the rest of the distance the rails
will be laid thirty-one feet above salt
water. Four concrete viaducts aggre-
gate nearly six miles, with fifty feet
spans resting upon concrete piers set in
the solid rock and strengthened by piles.
There are seven water openings, each
twenty-five feet, and three drawbridges
whiqh aggregate 410 feet.

Largo is the largest of the keys and is

A DAY'S FISHING ON THE EAST COAST OF FLORIDA

THE RAILROAD OVER THE OCEAN SURF

forty miles in length, but the railroad
only traverses fifteen miles of its area.
Next comes Plantation Key, and so on
down a long list of keys to Stock Island
and Key West. In addition to the keys
which the road actually passes over, there
are a number of others in sight, many of
them covered with groves of trees fur-
nishing the traveler with a panoramic

ers will supply the markets of the North
and the world, and on every table will
be found the fruits of the tropics at all
seasons of the year.

It is difficult to comprehend all that this
road will mean in the annihilation of
time and space in getting products to
the markets. And in addition to this
the value of land in the south will be
enhanced as the pro-
ducts of the soil have
a new outlet, while
the markets of the
world will be sup-
plied with a great-
er variety than ever
before , and at a
lower price. In the
improvement of this
section some thirty-
five miles of rivers
were cleaned out and
deepened, twenty
miles of ditches were
dug, and the effects
of all this is seen in
the oranges, man-
goes, grape fruit,
pineapples, cocoa-
nuts and great vari-
ety of other fruits
and vegetables
found in Dade coun-
ty and shipped by
express freight trains
to the Northern
markets.

CHARLIE TOMMY, THE SEMINOLE

view of the wealth of the tropics. To
look from a train, upon these strategic
keys covered with cocoanut and pine-
apple trees, is to enjoy a view not to be
seen from any other railway line in the
world.

The islands are rich hammock lands,
and the railroad will develop a vast
traffic in fruit and vegetables such as has
made Dade County notable. The grow-

The water between

the islands is shallow, being from ten to
thirty feet deep, with a bottom of lime-
stone. The best engineering talent
of the country has been employed
to overcome all obstacles.

Mr. J. C. Meredith is the construc-
tive engineer in charge of the work
at Miami. A large fleet of tugs and
barges are employed constantly. At
Key West extensive docks and terminals
will be built, as well as dry docks and

THE RAILROAD OVER THE OCEAN SURF

wharves, each 800 feet long and 100 feet
wide. The trip of ninety nautical miles
from Key West to Havana will be made

struction of this railroad is certainly
going to be the crowning achievement of
Mr. Flagler's wonderful and successful

THE KING PALM, MIAMI

in from four and a half to five hours.

But most important of all is the fact

that this will furnish the shortest and

quickest route to the Pacific. The con-

career in Florida. It may well be termed
the "Oceanic Route," and will be the
most unique scenic line in the world, for
"Ocean travel by land" is a novelty that

THE RAILROAD OVER THE OCEAN SURF

will be warmly welcomed by the victims

of mal de mer.

* * *

The president's office is on Broadway,
just at the bend of that famous thorough-
fare, and is on the twelfth floor of num-
ber twenty-six. It is a large room over-
looking the harbor. In the office was the
quiet air of concentrated business. Sev-
eral gentlemen were assembled in the
outer room, waiting to take up the rou-
tine of buy and sell. In Mr. Flagler's
room I noticed that a number of books
lay about the desk and on the walls were
blue prints showing the plans for the
railway extension.

He has a gray moustache and
kindly blue eyes, and evidently takes a
deep interest in all things progressive.
Alert today as when a youth of four-
teen he began his notable life career of
"making his way." If the genius of the
age is business, I should without hesi-
tation say that Henry M. Flagler is the
personification of this age.

I like best to describe him as a man
with the courage of his convictions, a
staunch upholder of the new South, who
has opened up its resources not by words
but by works. His keen and kindly in-
terest in men and in new enterprises ex-
presses the true American spirit, and it
occurred to me that this might be the
secret of the amazing success of all his
business undertakings.

Despite the numerous projects which
he has on hand, I noticed that Mr. Flag-
ler keeps abreast of the literature of the
day. On his desk were several new
books, and while I sat there a fresh vol-
ume was brought to him with the leaves
all cut ready for his perusal.

Mr. Flagler impressed me as being a
man capable of succeeding in any line
he might take up. I believe he would
have made an ideal president of a col-
lege, and certainly would have been as
consummate a success as he has been in
business, for I never heard from anyone
more sound, sensible and healthy opin-

Projection of the Ex-
tension of the Florida
East Coast Railway from
Homestead to Key West.

THE RAILROAD OVER THE OCEAN SURF

ions regarding the everyday problems of
life. Summed up, his conclusion was
that the man who believes unreservedly
in his country and does his duty will
come out all right.

This doctrine was splendidly exempli-
fied by Mr. Flagler after the great freeze
of '95, when many of the orange growers
were broken by their heavy losses. The
manner in which he opened his purse at
that time in order that the people should
have money on such terms as they
needed, and encouraging them to go on
with their work, certainly showed no dis-
position to make money out of other
people's misfortunes. He insisted that
these sufferers by the frost were not
objects of charity, but were honestly en-
titled to every consideration possible.

Like all men of his caliber, Mr. Flag-
ler takes a universal view of matters, and
this attitude enables him to see another
side of events than that which merely

concerns his own interests.

* * *

I was much interested in learning that
early in his career this master mind met
with overwhelming obstacles, and at one
time lost his entire fortune in an enter-
prise at Saginaw, Michigan, but, nothing
daunted, he went to work again and
made a new start. He told me how diffi-
cult it was for him to realize that, al-
though he observed the old standards of
industry, frugality, temperance and per-
severance,— he did not seem to make
progress, but later he saw that these
years of slow growth were but the train-
ing school for later achievements. He
also remarked that many successful men
had told him that no one was more sur-
prised than they themselves when they
found success crowning their efforts, be-
yond their wildest dreams.

* * *

In the course of our conversation Mr.
Flagler remarked that he would like to
reach the young men of today and give
them the results of his own life experi-
ence, but he seemed to feel that he could

THE RAILROAD OVER THE OCEAN SURF

not do this without appearing egotistical
and possibly being misunderstood. Mr.
Flagler is a philosopher, a man who
thinks deeply, and has clear and de-
cided views. He is an inspiration to
younger men with whom he comes into
contact. There is in him that same
broad, keen, sympathetic interest that
made Marcus A. Hanna one of the
greatest men of his time, although no
man, perhaps, was more maligned and
misunderstood.

It has been my good fortune to be in-
timately acquainted with many elderly
men, and my best friends are those who
have met obstacles and mastered them.
They have come to the evening of life,
they have reached the heights above the
clouds and mists, and are looking back
on those who are still struggling up the
side of the mountain. They gaze back
through the vista of years and see just
where they might have done better, where
the mistakes were made, as no younger
man can do.

One never knows a country until he
has been there. There is something in
the inflection of the names, something
in the way a man talks about a place
which shows at once whether or no he
has been there, and distinguishes him
from one who has never seen it. This
is precisely the difference between the
young man and the man of mature years.
These latter have had experience, and it
is not so much what they say as how they
say it. This is often apparent in the
work or newspaper men, who, as they
grow experienced, will see what younger
men miss— the instinctive twinkle of the
eye, the little wrinkle of the mouth, the
glance that tells the whole story without

a spoken word. Or they hear an inflec-
tion in the voice that is unheard by
others. Thus it was in my meeting with
Mr. Flagler, the presence of the projec-
tor himself gave a new interest to the
Florida East Coast Extension. There
he sat in his modest office and calmly
announced his definite decision to com-
plete the work, as quietly as though he
had been commenting on the beautiful
Autumn day outside. I went to see him
just as I might go to visit any other pub-
lic man, and about the first thing he said
to me was,

"I cannot see why a magazine like
the National should want to get informa-
tion about a mere prosaic enterprise like
a railroad."

I told him I thought the enterprise
involved something much more than the
construction of rails and ties and bridges
— it meant much to the nation in extend-
ing and knitting together the relation-
ships which were to be opened up in
view of the building of the Panama canal.
His eyes twinkled, and he said,

"Well, possibly that has had something
to do with the construction of our line."

No man ever made a success of any-
thing who could not read and see into
the future. Pre-vision is the basis of
success. My reason for going to see Mr.
Flagler was not so much to gain informa-
tion regarding the railway, but that I
desired to see in person the projector of
so vast an undertaking. My interview
with him was indeed an inspiration and
I came away with the hope of taking a
a trip on the keys of Florida by rail, the
Oceanic route, over the foaming surf of
the Gulf in the dashing "Iron Horse,"
which has not only made its conquest of
earth, but now will soon ride the very
waves over the sea.

THE HOME LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY

By Joe Mitchell Chappie

IT is rather a delicate question to bring
up just now — that question of life
insurance, but in New York the other
day I thought I would just drop round
to "see the folks." In a tall, red-gabled
building on Broadway is the Home Life
Insurance Companv. one of the strong-
est and most conservative institutions of
its kind in the
country — and
there are many.
When I paid
my year's pre-
mium on my
Home Life In-
surance policy,
I called in to
pay my respects
to the president.
As I sat in his
office overlook-
ing the city hall
in New York,
where the Arm-
strong Insur-
ance investiga-
tion is being
carried on, I
thought to my-
self if every
policyholder in
this company
could know
what I realized

that day, they would congratulate them-
selves upon the fact that they belonged in
the Home Life Insurance Company. In
Mr. George E. Ide our Home Life Insur-
ance policyholders have a man of the
times, a man who at first, in many ways,
impresses one as being of the Roose-
veltian type. Modest, direct, simple,
yet nobody can press his hand without
feeling that here indeed is a real man,
honest and square. Devoted to his
policyholders, George E. Ide to me

GEORGE E. IDE, PRESIDENT

stands out conspicuous.y ,n the straight-
forwardness of his efforts in building
up the Home Life Insurance Company.
If ever there was a man who had the
unqualified devotion of those associated
with him, it is President Ide. His
whole personality impresses one with
the purpose he has in working for the
company, and
he is just the
sort of man one
can trust. I do
not wonder now
at the enthusi-
asm that pre-
vails among all
the representa-
tives of the
Home Life In-
surance Com-
pany concern-
ing the presi-
dent. Mr. Ide
is a New Yorker
by birth, but a
man with a most
democratic, em-
phatic and
broad taste, and
here again the
Rooseveltian
stamp was indi-
cated.

In the office

of Mr. Frederick A. Wallis, manager
of the Greater New York department,
the agents and solicitors were as-
sembled and there was an atmosphere
of intelligent appreciation of what the
people need along the lines of life
insurance. On a blackboard on the
wall were written inspiring and whole-
some sentiments. A bit of verse, a well
known saying, an epigram hung here
and there about the room. Everything
was indicative of the wholesome and

THE HOME LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY

healthy home spirit, for the company is
most appropriately named. Perhaps no
president could have been found to
represent it who would have been more
in agreement with this home spirit than
Mr. George E. Ide.

The accounts are so accurately and
concisely kept that every policyholder
can know at any hour the actual amount
of money he has due to him, and when
I went to the book keeping and actuarial
department I saw there on a card my
own individual account, and at a single
glance I knew exactly how much it had
earned during the past year. This is
nothing less than a guarantee of annual
personal participation in profits, as well

company which stands out in sharp con-
trast to the busy, rushing maelstrom of
business activities in New York City.
Ninety per cent, of the insurance of the
United States has been hitherto written
on the plan of deferring the dividends for
a period of years, and it is just here that
the Home Life Insurance Company have
made a great change, obviating the ac-
cumulation of great surpluses that has
occasioned a large part of the trouble
and dissatisfaction which has arisen. In
the ordinary annual dividend policy
there is what has been termed micro-
scopic earnings, but in the policy which
the Home Life Insurance Company offers
the full benefit of the dividend is given,

THE HOME LIFE INSURANCE BUILDING BY SUNLIGHT

as an assurance of an annual statement
of these profits. This is in sharp con-
trast to the general method of conduct-
ing business of this kind heretofore, by
means of deferred dividends, of which it
may be said that "hope deferred maketh
the heart sick." lit is believed, how-
ever, that by and by the whole insurance
situation will adjust itself equitably and
in the interests of all policyholders as
well as of all companies.

Now I am relating the satisfaction
that resulted from my visit to the Home
Life Insurance Company and not indulg-
ing in criticism or comparison. In the
first place there was a spirit of home-
likeness about the headquarters of this

with the information always obtainable
of just how much your policy is earning
and how much credit you have in the
bank— so to speak. In other words, it
seems as though the Home Life Insur-
ance Company conducted their business
on much the same principle as a savings
bank. There is no "blind pool" because
you know how much is coming to you,
and if you leave it there it accumulates
for you all the benefits of a long deferred
dividend policy of the regular kind. It
seems to me as though the public are
ready for just this sort of company, and
for my part I know I never paid any
money with more satisfaction than when
I handed in my annual premium in

THE HOME LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY

the Home Life Insurance Company.

This was the first insurance organiza-
tion to adopt the plan of ascertaining
the exact surplus accruing on accumula-
tion policies, and to declare dividends
due to policyholders, and to actually
credit what was due every year. This
has been why, in all these years of
strenuous life insurance education, the
policyholders in this company have been
carrying a surplus to their credit instead
of the credit of the company. The
Home Life Insurance Company means
something concrete in its statements for
the policyholders.

The history of the company from its
inception nearly half a century ago, has
been a record
unparalleled
for conserva-
tive manage-
ment in the
direct, m u -
tual interests
of po li cy -
holders.

Well do I
remember my
first visit to
the head-
quarters ,
when I was
examined for

life insurance. It was a solemn occa-
sion, and I felt very seriously impressed
as I sat and was thumped and re-
thumped to see whether or not I was
a "good risk." An application blank
was made out on which it seemed de-
sirable that I should chronicle the gene-
alogy of my family from the time of
William the Conqueror. The medical
examination over, the good, jovial doc-
tor sent me out with the feeling that not
only was I a "good risk" physically, but
that before me were many years in which
to carry out the vigorous activities of the
career which lay mapped out for me.
Some doctors have the faculty of inspiring
their patients with a belief in their

own power to achieve, which proves
more effective than gallons of medicine.
As I went out I looked upon the old
clock in the tower of the City Hall park,
and found it had been just one hour and
thirty-two minutes that I had spent in
the ordeal of examination and arranging
for insurance on my life. I now felt
that I could go forth to do and to con-
quer, in the knowledge that whatever
might befall me the loved ones at home
would be cared for.

Despite the startling revelations of the
past few months, the confidence of the
American people will never be shaken
in the absolute necessity and wisdom of
life insurance, especially when conducted

along such
conservative
lines as those
of the old
Home Life.
The impulse
of some Am-

THE HOME LIKE INSURANCE BUILDING BY SEARCH LIGHT

ericans is a
subtle incli-
nation to wor-
ship magni-
tude in all its
phases, and
this impulse
while un-
doubtedly in

many ways an excellent and uplifting
one, is not always to be trusted. It
often happens that better work and more
careful consideration is given by a more
conservative concern or corporation, and
it was my experience of service of this
kind that made me feel that I would be
better off as a member of the family
circle in the Home Life Insurance Com-
pany, than if I were insured with the
million and multi - millions, where I
should be but as a drop in the
ocean.

When I look at my card in the Home
Life, I really feel of some consequence.
So every time I pass by Broadway and
look upon the red-gabled front of the

THE HOME LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY

Old Home Life Insurance Company's
dwelling, I feel that I have an invest-
ment there that means a great deal to
me. I think with satisfaction of my
policy put away in the strong box, which
means protection during the storm and
stress of life, and the outcry of investi-
gators means nothing to me, because I
feel that I am cared for with that gener-
ous blanket policy of the Home Life In-
surance Company.

Later: — Since the above was written
and in type Mr. Ide has appeared before
the Hughes Insurance Investigation in
New York City. There is always a thrill
of pleasure in realizing one's personal
opinions and impressions confirmed by
the rigid test of concrete and legal fact.
The great searchlight was turned on the
Home Life Insurance Company with
Mr. Ide in the witness chair on the dias.
He told in a simple direct way the story
of the Home Life Insurance Company,
armed with facts and a clean, clear cut
business record, that becomes a matter
of personal congratulation to every
policy holder and one that won the ad-
miration of the lynx-eyed legislative
inquisitors. Since Mr. Ide's testimony

the Home Life Insurance Company
has been showered with praise and con-
gratulations by the people and public
press, in finding this refreshing record
under the calcium light. The old-
fashioned glass chandilier overhead, the
painting of Jefferson, quj.ll in hand from
the rear — with Andrew Jackson at the
right and Monroe at the left, with Fillmore
and Tyler at either side of the red cur-
tained alcove of the speaker, somehow
made a picturesque setting for the scene
in which Diogenes Hughes found an
honest insurance president with his
swinging lantern of cross examination.
The cynics must cease their wailing —
there are honest men and honest corpor-
ations and it is such that holds fast the
auction of public confidence. Telegrams
of congratulations pour in upon this un-
assuming man and yet in the blaze of
triumph for his conservative square deal
policy of management — he remains just
the same modest, earnest man, whose
testimony has thrown a sharp contrast on
the scene that means much at this psycho-
logical moment, for the entire cause of
Square-deal life insurance to which he
has devoted his life and career.

THE HOME I. IKK INSURANCE BUILDING BY MOONLIGHT

VIEW OF MIAMI RIVER

NEW POINTS OF INTEREST IN FLORIDA

By Professor L. T. Townsend

CLORIDA, though boasting of the old-
est existing city in the United States,
St. Augustine, and not many hours dis-
tant by rail from our largest eastern and
middle western cities, seems to be, by
the great majority of our people only
imperfectly understood; it is thought to
be of small area, quite a good deal of it
supposed to be swampy and malarial.
But as a matter of fact it is the largest
state east of the Mississippi; it is larger
than New Hampshire, Vermont, Massa-
chusetts, Rhode Island, New Jersey,
Maryland and Delaware taken together
and by government statistics is reported
as one of the healthiest states of the
Union.

Florida is a peninsula, extending north
and south four hundred miles or more,

having a mean breadth of ninety miles
with over a thousand miles of water
front. There are thirty-nine counties in
the state, twenty-two of which have either
a gulf or an ocean front, resembling in
this respect the peninsulas of Greece,
Italy, Spain and southern California.
While the scenery of Florida takes a most
indifferent rank as compared with that
of other places, yet its climate is equal
to theirs and, especially in its southern
portions, is in many respects superior.
That one finds very marked differences
in Florida when passing from its north-
ern to the southern counties, is what
would be expected. A distance of
several hundred miles, north and south,
in the temperate zone, especially dur-
ing the Winter months, as all travelers

NEW POINTS OF INTEREST IN FLORIDA

know, show surprising var-
i a t i o n s of temperature.
From repeated personal ex-
perience we know that one
may need heavy flannels
and an overcoat in Jack-
sonville, or St. Augustine
an don reaching Palm
Beach or Miami the next
morning can safely doff all
clothing except what one
needs in the mildest mid-
Summer weather. Often
there are cold storms in
northern Florida, which
have done much to dam-
age the reputation of the
whole state as a Winter re-
sort; but on the same days
mild and general sunshine prevail in the
southern portions of the state. For the
larger part of the time during nine months
of the year, beginning the latter part of
October, fog, rain and dewfall in south-
ern Florida are almost entirely unknown.
The record of two years ago is that three
hundred and nine days out of the three
hundred and sixty-five were fair. The
record of last Winter is that from Octo-
ber to April there were no storms and
but three or four showers, mostly at
night-time.

South-eastern Florida, including the
larger keys from Angell island to Key
West are already taking rank among the
most noted Winter, health and" pleasure

TARPON FISHING IN FLORIDA

resorts of America, if not of the world.
Here are a low altitude, a remarkably
dry atmosphere, almost continuous
breezes from the Gulf stream, that are
free from disease producing microbes
and packed with antiseptic ozone, with a
temperature exceptionally equitable and
so mild that out-door sports and sea
bathing are enjoyed during all the Win-
ter months; invalids, without risk, are
able to live in the open air day and
night the year through. The writer has
taken a surf bath the first of March while
a blizzard was raging over New England,
in water at seventy-two degrees and with
an atmosphere at seventy.
The present metropolis of this part of

CARRYING THE MAIL IN SOUTHEASTERN FLORIDA

NEW POINTS OF INTEREST IN FLORIDA

MIAMI'S NEW HOTEL, "HALCYON HALL

Florida is the so called "magic city,"
Miami.

It is three hundred and sixty-six miles
south of Jacksonville, sixty south of Palm
Beach and is on the shores of Biscayne
bay, a beautiful sheet of salt water.

Within three miles of the entrance of
Miami harbor is the course taken by sail-
ing vessels and steamers bound for Key
West, Havana, Pensacola, Galveston and
other Gulf and South American ports.
Through the south part of the city,
where soon will be its center, flows the
clear waters of Miami river.

In 1896, with the exception of a few
acres cultivated by two or three enter-
prising early settlers, the whole territory,
now embraced in the city of Miami, was
a tropical wilderness. Giant live oaks
and other hardwood trees, together with
pines, shrubs and tangled vines, ren-
dered this region almost impassable. On
these shores up to that time, the Seini-
nole Indians, who have been warred

upon by English, Spanish and American
troops, without having yet been con-
quered by any of them, had their camp-
ing grounds. To these shores out from
the almost unexplored fastness of the
Everglades, only six miles distant, at
the nearest point from Miami, though
having an area of hundreds of miles,
came these Indians year after year, with
their alligator skins, furs and great
variety of bird plumes to get in ex-
change their few groceries, their gaudy
colored calicoes, powder and various
trinkets from the one store, that of
Mr. William B. Brickell, who still lives
upon his most attractive estate.

On the waters of the bay the Seminoles
fished and on its shores held their annual
corn dance.

The interior of this part of Florida at
that time, and the untouched lands along
the shores of the bay were largely im-
passable, not having even an Indian trail.

The mail for the few pioneer settlers

NEW POINTS OF INTEREST IN FLORIDA

was conveyed a part of
the way by boat and then
on the back of the mail
carrier, who followed for
thirty miles or so along
the shores of the keys on
the opposite side of Bis-
cayne bay. The voting
population of that entire
district then numbered
only eleven persons. Such
were the conditions of this
part of Florida ten years
ago. But when the East
Coast railroad, in 1896,
reached Miami river there
began an era of most re-
markable growth and prosperity. People
of all occupations and professions, peo-
ple in health and invalids from south-
ern, western and northern states came
there in large numbers, living at first in
tents, shacks, or under roofs of pal-
metto leaves where now are palatial
homes with lawns unsurpassed in this
or any other country.

The tax assessment for 1897 was $98,-
336; that for 1905 was $1,024,330.

In June, 1897, Miami held its first
election, having a population of three

THE SAME STREET TO-pAY

A MIAMI STREET NINE YEARS AGO

hundred and forty-three. There are now
between five and six thousand all-the-
year-round inhabitants with many more,
two thousand, perhaps, who are regular
Winter residents.

On the boarding house and hotel
registers of last Winter a hundred and
twenty-nine thousand names were en-
tered. Nor need one be surprised at
this, for here are tennis and golf grounds
as good as can be found anywhere and
here too the sportsman can find game of
many kinds and fish of greater variety
and in larger quan-
tities than perhaps
anywhere else in the
United States.

There are in this
part of Florida no
mud, no sleet, no
snow, no tedious
Winter months, no
scorching Summer
heat, nor hardly a
hot and sultry
night the Summer
through. Here too,
it should be re-
membered are nearly
the same climatic
and other condi-
tions, excepting

NEW POINTS OF INTEREST IN FLORIDA

"THE ROYAL PALM HOTEL" — ONE OF THE FLAGLER SYSTEM

mountain ranges, as those of Athens,
Alexandria, Crete, Genoa, Naples, and
Venice, which is evidence that the snow
banks of Russia, the bleak winds and
frosts of New England and the zero
weather of Minnesota and Manitoba are
not absolutely essential to the highest
development in art, literature and ora-
tory. Phidias and the builders of the
Parthenon, Homer and Dante, Demos-
thenes and Cicero did not need the ex-
hilaration and stimulous of an occasional
blizzard with the themometer below zero,
but were in a climate not essentially dif-
ferent from that of southern Florida.
And should the time come when the
Florida people can leave their gardens
and groves long enough to cultivate let-
ters, she, too, may have a literature.

The city of Miami has its telegraph,
electric light and sewage services as up-
to-date and efficient as those of any city
in our country.

There are three daily and three weekly

papers and two monthly magazines.

The most important hotels of the city
are the Royal Palm and the Halcyon.
The first of these, most attractively lo-
cated, fronting south on Miami river and
east on Biscyne bay, is one of the Flagler
group of spacious hostelries, which is all
the commendation it needs; it has ac-
comodation for eight hundred or a thou-
sand guests. The Halcyon, with every
modern improvement, built of stone and
steel, is one of the finest buildings in
the southern states. It has accomoda-
tions for three hundred and fifty guests,
opens November i, closes May i, and
is under the management of Mr. Salem
Graham, an experienced and very suc-
cessful hotel proprietor.

The streets of Miami and the roads in
the country about, are made of crushed
coral, which for hardness, smoothness
and for automobile touring purposes are
unsurpassed by those of any country in
the world, not excepting the state roads

NEW POINTS OF INTEREST IN FLORIDA

of Massachusetts. These roads now ex-
tend west of the city into the grape fruit
and orange groves, now rapidly multiply-
ing, and into the truck farm districts
with their marvelously profitable crops
which can be planted so as to be har-
vested any month of the year. These
roads extend south of Miama to Cutler,
fifteen miles distant and north to Palm
Beach, with the exception of a gap be-
tween Landerville and Delray which is
already under way of construction.

South of Miami are Cocoanut Grove,
Larkin, Cutler and other towns, some
of which have received their names
within one or two years, located along
the line of the railroad, in what is known
as the Homestead country. The present
terminus of the railroad having the
name, Homestead, is on the border of
the Everglades and not far from where
the road leaves the main land for the
keys on its romantic route to Key West.

People are moving rapidly into this
section, the incoming population being
a .good deal cosmopolitan ; in the same
neighborhoods are people from Maine
and Michigan, Kansas and Kentucky,
Connecticut and the Carolinas, England.
France, Sweden and Germany.

No part of the Atlantic coast is said
to be freer from mosquitoes and other
like pests than this part of Florida.

Throat and lung diseases, including
diphtheria and consumption have never
been known to develop in this section
of the state.

The lands of the Homestead country
are not very diversified, but include a
small amount of hammock, much pine,
and large tracts of what are called prairie
lands, that give some evidence of becom-
ming the greatest vegetable and fruit
producing territory of the United States;
the promise of this may be gathered from
the fact that during the past season there
were shipped from the lower East Coast
country more than one and one-half
million crates of vegetables to Northern
markets.

Last Spring we visited one of the
plantations on Key Largo, where are
essentially the same conditions as those
of the southeastern part of the mainland,
and found growing there bananas, black-
berries, cocoanuts, dates, English wal-
nuts, grapes, grape fruit, quavas, two
varieties of apples, the Jamaica and
sugar; two varieties of lemon, the native

and the Cicily, limes, several varieties
of oranges, peaches, pineapples, sappa-
dillos, shaddocks, tamarinds and several
other varieties of fruit that we confess
never before to have heard of.

In fact almost everything in vegetable
and fruit productions found in the tem-
perate, sub-tropical and tropical zones
are easily grown on these keys and in
southeastern Florida.

The climate there is almost as remark-
able as its varied productions. Though
ten degrees nearer the equator than
southern Italy, its average temperature
is not as high.

In mid-Summer there is no such heat
as is found in other sections of the south,
or even in our northern and western
states. Sunstroke and heat prostrations
are unknown. These immense prairies
opening out to the Atlantic ocean,
fanned by almost continuous Gulf Stream
breezes can be worked, so those who
live there tell us, with no discomfort
SMch as is experienced in our New Eng-
land hay and western corn fields. The
reports of the weather bureau at Wash-
ington show that the thermometer
rarely registers in southeastern Florida
above ninety degrees, while the aver-
age Summer heat is sixty -five to
seventy.* (

From statistics of the Washing-
ton weather bureau we take the fol-
lowing reading for a Spring, Summer,
Autumn and Winter months of a year
ago.

Max. Min. Mean.

March: 86C

May : 88°

October : 89°

February: 86C

59"

57°
54°

45°

76.2°
76.2°
73-3c

"The Health Resorts" with its many
beautiful descriptive engravings to which
we are indebted for the illustrations in
this article, fill one with a longing for
that land of flowers.

In view of all these facts it is hardly
possible that farmers who are becoming
tired of biting frosts in the Northeast and
Northwest United States will allow the
Homestead country and the larger Florida
keys to remain unoccupied and untilled
much longer.

If one needs more specific information
as to these lands he would better com-
municate with the office of Mr. J. E.
Ingraham, St. Augustine.

THE midwinter season is one of much
' pleasure, of many entertainments and all
sorts of happy times and consequently means
a need for costumes of varying sorts. The
very pretty princesse evening gown illus-
trated makes one of the latest and best de-
signs of the season and is so far adaptable
that it can be made available for a great
many materials and a great many occasions.
With the decollet^ neck and the elbow
sleeves it suits genuine evening wear, while
with the yoke and long sleeves can be utilized
for afternoon occasions Again, the Empire

DESIGN BY MAT WANTON.
Tucked Princesse Gown 5179.

drapery on the waist can be used or omitted
as liked and the skirt can be cut off in walk
ing length, if a still simpler model is needed.
In the illustration messaline satin is trimmed
with velvet and lace. Material required for
the medium size is 13 yards 21, 10 yards 27
or 6 Yi yards 44 inches wide with >£ yard of
bias velvet and i yard of all-over lace for the
yoke and cuffs when used.

Empire coats are greatly in vogue this
season and are particularly attractive for
evening and carriage wear. The one illus-
trated (5217) is among the most graceful
shown and appropriately can be made from

cloth, velvet, drap 'd etc or any seasonable

cloaking material. For the medium size will

be required 8 ^ yards

27 or 5 yards 52 inches

wide with ^8 yard of

satin for the vest, Z/%

yard of velvet for the

collar and 2 yards of

lace for frills.

N o matter how
many the fancy waists,
however, the simple
one in shirt waist style
makes the real essen-
tial to comfort. Nos.
5218 and 5203 serve to
illustrate two recent
and altogether desira-
ble models that can be
made available both
for immediate wear
and for the making of
the cotfon and linen
waists of the coming
season, which work is so apt to be done in
January and February. The yoke model is
made with quite novel cuffs that are tucked
on diagonal lines, while the surplice waist
includes an entirely separate chemisette that
is adjusted under it and closed at the back.
To make the yoke waist for the medium size
will be required 4 yards of material 21, 3^
yards 27; to make the surplice waist 3^
yards 21 or 2 y% yards '44 inches wide with
& yard any width for the chemisette.

6217 Empire Coat,
32 to 42 bust.

5218 Tucked Shirt
Waist, 32 tc 40 bust.

B203 Surplice Shirt
Waist, 32 to 42 bust

All variations of the circular skirt are
greatly in vogue this season and are all exceed-
ingly graceful and attractive. None, however,
is better than No. 5213. As illustrated it is

The May Bfanton Patterns illustrated in this article may be obtained for 10 cents each. Address Fashion Department
Kational Magazine, 944 Dorchester Avenue, Huston. Mass.

FASHIONS FOR MIDWINTER

made of cloth with trimming of bands of
the material but it is quite suited to all the
seasonable fabrics and can be trimmed in al-

6213 Three Piece Circu-
lar Skirt. 22 to 30 waist.

6200 Five Gored Skirt,
22 to 30 waist.

almost any way that may please the fancy,
while again it may be cut off in walking
length if desired. The front gore gives the
effect of a double box plait while the sides
fall in ripples below the hips. For the medi-
um size will be required 7 yards of material
27 or 4X yards 52 inches wide.

The skirt with the kilted flounce is, on the
other hand, designed only for walking length
,but is eminently graceful and attractive when
put to either use. There is a five gored
upper portion which is perfectly smooth and
which renders the model particularly desir-
able for the fashionable long coats, although
its usefulness is not confined within any
fixed limits. For the medium size will be
required 8 yards of material 27 or 4^ yards
44 inches wide. The short coat is the
favorite /one of the Win-
ter for /all dressy cos-
tumes in spite of the
effort to introduce the
longer ones. In the
model shown (5204) is to
be found one of the best
as well as simplest for
mid-winter wear. As il-
lustrated cloth is trim-
med with velvet and
handsome buttons. For
the medium size will be
required 4 # yards of
material 21 or 2 yards
44 inches wide with i
yard of velvet.

The long coat is the only really desirable
one for little girls to wear and this one (5198)
will be found desirable for every material
used for the purpose. In the illustration it

6204 Blouse Eton,
32 to 40 bust.

is made of kersey, dark red in color, but it
also suits the lighter weight materials that
will be in demand for the coming of spring.
For a girl of eight will be required 2>£ yards
of material 44 or 2>£ yards 52 inches wide.

6198 Girl's Tucked
Coat, 4 to 10 years.

6069 Child's Dress-.
2 to 8 years.

Simple children's frocks are those which
are always the greatest pleasure to make and
in No. (5069) is to be found a model so at-
tractive as to be sure to commend itself to
every mother. Appropriately it can be made
of either cashmere or veiling or any similar
wool material as well as of the various wash-
able ones that are used for children's dresses.
For a girl of six will be required 3 yards of
material 32 or 2 «^ yards 44 inches wide with
i yard 18 inches wide for the yoke collar and
i ^ yards of edging.

The day of the wrapper is, happily, in the
past and tasteful breakfast jackets, made
either with skirts to match or worn with
those in contrast, have come to take its place.
In No. 5117 is shown

an exceptional grace-

ful and attractive

model that is suited

both to the morning

gown and to the sep-

arate jacket and both

to wool and to wash-

able materials,so that

it becomes available

for the future as well

as for immediate use.

For the medium size

will be required 4

yards of material 27,

3 y2 yards 32 or z Yz

5117 Break fast Jacket,
32 to 44 bust.

yards 44 irches wide

with i% yards of insertion.

The May Manton Patterns illustrated In this article may be obtained for 10 cents each. Address, Fashion Department,
National Magazine, 944 Dorchester Avenue, Boston, Mass.

YES, I have taken down the old calen-
dar and put up the new — a signal for
1906. As I hung it upon the nail, it
seemed as though I was hanging up high
hopes and expectations for the new year.
While the division between the years is
more or less an arbitrary matter of man's
making, somehow it impells a retrospec-
tive glance, as well as a look into the
future.

The best resolution any of us can
make is to determine that 1906 shall wit-
ness the doing of something for others.
The doing of some little act of kindness,
the getting away from the idea that no
progress is made except by what is
done for oneself alone.

I tell you it is on shipboard that you
get a good perspective for a look at your
self. When I had sailed miles and miles
out to sea, it seemed to me I could look
back and realize my short comings during
the past years. How petty seemed so
many of those all-absorbing questions with
which I had been occupied a few months
ago. The range of vision seemed to
change the picture entirely, and the
clearer view gave an added importance
to those things that had not been done
for self, but inspired by at least the hope
of helping others. It occurred to me
how insignificant a great many of these
everyday duties are, in which we strug-
gle for our own selves, and how, on the
other hand, the spontaneous impulse to
help others stands out as a brilliant
achievement as the days and the years
pass in rapid procession.

f\F course I assume that everyone has
renewed his or her subscription and
has purchased a copy of the Heart Throb
Book. Quite naturally, these are two
things which we think important at the
beginning of the new year — important,
but not all-important. The older I grow
the more tolerant I feel toward all human
kind and their varying convictions. I
entertain a greater respect for other views
than my own cherished habits of thought.
If we only knew each other better and
understood that human nature is built
much on the same keel, there would
be less rancour and bitterness in our
thoughts of others. From this stand-
point I am an irredeemable and irreclaim-
able optimist and there is hope for the
coming years, even in the desire for tear-
ing down old structure and erecting new.

Hail to 1906! There is something in
that figure six that suggests evenness —
it is always divisible, odd or even, either
by three or two. It seems to have a gen-
tleness all its own, and there is a grace
in the very curves of the figure that in-
dicates the character we would wish the
new year to have. It contains the circle
which should be emblematic of unity and
harmony. I have been thinking about this
figure six for several weeks, and when
the midnight hour is past and I look out
upon the new year I shall be ready to
realize that the five is put away on the
shelf for another ten years and mark the
"6" at the end of the date line as I write

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

you hearty New Year's greetings, with a
strong and steady stroke.

IT is human nature to like to discover
people for ourselves. In a dim, hazy
way the name of Edmund Vance Cooke
as a contributor to magazines and as a
poet had long been familiar to me, but
one day I ran upon a bit of verse en-
titled, "How Did You Die?" It opened
with the lines:

"Did you tackle that trouble that came your

way
With a resolute heart and cheerful ?

This appealed to me at once, just as
it has to thousands of other readers, and
I studied the three verses through care-
fully. Now I often find in reading verses
of this sort that one is not merely inter-
ested in the poem — which soon becomes
a part of our very selves — but we feel
a sort of personal frendship for the
author. Though I felt acquainted with
Mr. Cooke, it was not until the days at
the St. Louis Exposition that I had the
pleasure of meeting him, at a gathering
of the National Editorial Association
where he recited a number of his poems,
and there was not a man there I believe,
who would not cheerfully havje sacrificed
his own opportunity to air his views in
order to hear Mr. Cooke recite "just one
more selection."

Edmund Vance Cooke is one of the
younger poet-philosophers who have
made a prominent name in American
literature. He has a pleasing person-
ality, both in the social circle and on
the platform as a lecturer. In this latter
capacity his work as an entertainer has
been most satisfactory, for he is an in-
imitable actor. Who can ever forget his
recitation of the experience of putting
the baby to sleep. It goes right to the
heart's core of every father and mother
who hears it. Mr. Cooke is now presi-
dent of the International Lecturers' Asso-
ciation and it is gratifying to know that
lyceum and platform work are well rep-
resented by this organization and its

worthy president. Mr. Cooke' s lecture,
"Pot Luck with the Poet," is one of the
most popular in lyceum courses, and his
books of verse have won a place in the
homes of the people, well deserved by
one of our happiest and healthiest poets.
Though Mr. Cooke is a poet, he cannot
be accused of adopting any of the man-
nerisms of the tuneful brethren, and he
certainly does not wear long hair, as the

EDMUND VANCE COOKE

accompanying portrait proves. Here the
brow of the philosopher is plainly seen.
His mobile mouth and sparkling eyes
reveal the mirth of minstrelsy and the
flash of thought, while the firm chin tells
of the thoroughness and accuracy that
are his characteristics.

* * *

Edmund Vance Cooke is nothing if
not original, and has won the friendship
and admiration of all who have ever

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

come into contact with him. It was Bill
Nye who paid him the tribute of saying
that Mr. Cooke had touched his old
heart and made him a better man. What
more glorious mission could be found
for a philosopher? Who is more beloved
than the man who makes us feel better
and more in tune with our best selves?
We value the friends who have always
an inspiring word far more than those
who try to scold us into the right
path.

The contributions of this writer have
appeared in nearly every periodical in
the country, and Mr, Cooke's volumes
are becoming increasingly popular.
"The Chronicles of the Little Tot"
reached its fourth edition in three
months, while his other volumes have
been equally successful. It is probable
that such poems as "The Little Boy
Who Left Us" have done more than
many sermons for the elevation of the

people.

* * *

Born in Canada thirty-eight years ago,
Mr. Cooke has become thoroughly Yan-
keeized. according to his own statement.
His literary career began at the early
age of fourteen, when, Eddy Cooke was
his name, and the Golden Days received
his first contribution, which in due time
brought in his first check. Mr. Cooke
has always preserved his kindly, thought-
ful ways. He is not inoculated with any
"isms" of the day, but has a frank,
genial belief in the best that is in human
nature. His creed is just to make people
feel better. Hail to Edmund Cooke!

IT has been a busy month in the Nat-
ional office, publishing the "Heart
Throb Book" We have been working
night and day, and it would have delight-
ed you all, I think, if you could have
been here and seen the big presses run-
ning full speed night after night, under
the brilliant gleam of the electric light.
It was understood that it was necessary
to have the book ready for Christmas,
and every hour of overtime was a pleas-
ure. In fact, we have all done our best
to get the book ready for the holidays so
as to avoid any dissapointment to the
many subscribers who are sending it to
friends as a Christinas gift, and what
handsomer and more suggestive remem-
brance can you find for a dear one?

The advance orders have been pour-
ing in upon us, and the first edition is
likely to be exhausted within the month.
The book is a rare one indeed, the first
of its kind ever published. I am pleased
to be able to say that all the advance
orders were sent out in ample time for
the holidays. I am quite sure that if
every reader of these lines could have in
his hands a copy of this unique book, he
would not hesitate to place his order
for certainly one copy, and perhaps as
several of our subscribers have done, for
nine or ten copies. I feel so confident
that you will like the book that I do not
hesitate to ask you to sign the coupon
affixed below and send it on to us, and
I believe you will thank me later for
having urged you to do this. Sit right
down now and fill out the coupon and
mail it to us. It is the book of the year.

MR. JOE CHAPPLE,

NATIONAL MAGAZINE.

BOSTON, MASS.

Please send me one volume of "HEART THROBS" bound in cloth
and gilt with illuminated cover, for which 1 agree to pay $1.50 on receipt
of book.

Name,

Street,

City or Town,....
State,.

DOING THREE GREAT WORLD CAPITALS
IN THREE WEEKS

LONDON BERLIN WASHINGTON

OFF FOR EUROPE ON THE "AMERIKA"

By JOE MITCHELL CH APPLE

JLt Y heart had long been set upon it —
a voyage on the maiden trip of the
good ship Amerika. Whether the name
of the ship, or the desire for a rest and
to get away from myself for awhile had
most to do with it, I cannot say. At
the massive piers of the Hamburg- Ameri-
can dock the great queen of the seas was
the center of a gala scene. The docks
and piers were thronged with people.
The hour of three approached, and at
five minutes, precisely, before that hour
struck I arrived breathless from the
Hoboken ferry, playing the part of that
traditional inevitable unfortunate among
Trans-Atlantic voyageurs, — "the man
who lost his trunk." When this per-
son arrives the ship sails. There was
some hesitation for the monpent about
sailing without having the trunk but
the plans had been made, so up the
gang plank we marched, the last of the
long procession, amid the chorus of
•goodbyes.

Herr Albert Ballin, the distinguished
Director General of the line, and Mr. J.
P. Meyer, assistant to the General Man-
ager, Mr. E. L. Boas, were there to see
the ship back away from the pier. Herr
Ballin had come to America on the
maiden voyage of the new ship, and a
proud moment it must have been foi
him to hear the spontaneous greeting
given the vessel which had been named
in honor of the Western continent. But
if there ever was an institution that com=
prehends and includes all continents, it
is none other than the Hamburg-Ameri-
can Line.

Then we began to look around us and
to realize the grandeur of our ocean
dwelling. I feared I might later awaken
from complacent dreams to the agonizing
reality, — "I dre-hempt I dwe-helt in
mar-har-ble "alls," — an English version.
There was not, as yet as much vibration
as in a sewing machine on that Winter
voyage, not one of the thousands aboard
were seen at the rail, — paying a tribute.

Eight decks make the Amerika a veri-
table marine skyscraper of the high seas.

No possible convenience was lacking,
even the rapid transit elevator was there
to give a "lift." Below were the two
lower holds and steerage decks, then
came the "Franklin Deck," a tribute to
the great American philosopher, and
over this the "Cleveland Deck," upon
which was the grand dining salon, fur-
nished in pearl grey and luxuriously fin-
ished; as beautiful a dining room as
could ever be conceived. On the next
deck, stateroom number 13*1 was located;
and it was Mr. Barnbrock, head of the
cabin department returning to Ham-
burg, who saw us comfortably settled
in our mid-ocean home. We resided on
the Roosevelt deck and the deck, like the
man whose name it bears, was so popu-
lar that it was difficult to provide for all
the Americans who sought quarters here.
It is conceded that the Hamburg-Ameri-
can Line is the one for truly travel-wise
Americans.

Behind a very imposing counter stood
Chief Scholz, the "obersteward" — you
see how my German improves — with a
gorgeous diagram showing the seats at

OFF FOR EUROPE ON THE "AMERIKA"

the table; everything was spacious. The
first impression that one has of the ship
is her immensity, and the next the cheer-
ful homeliness and comfort of her hand-
some, artistic furnishings. Well, we did
not worry about our places at the table,
but went still higher to the "Washington
Deck," in which a bronze bas-relief of
the "father of his country" looked from
an alcove upon the diners; and it was
facetiously observed that every day at
"nine" bells the statue winked, whether
electrically or sympathetically was not
stated.

* * *

Still higher is located the delightful
promenade deck, which is known as the
"Kaiser Deck," either side of which
looks like a street at a fair, or a fashion"
able thoroughfare. Amidships was an
alcove filled with theatrical looking
steamer chairs, which we soon named
the orchestra circle.

From this vantage ground we viewed
the cliffs of Manhattan and the sky-scrap-
er canons of New York, with the after-
noon sun touching the green and brown
lawns of Staten Island and shining on
the myriad docks — what harbor the
whole world over is equal to New York?
And yet there the piers always seem to
be lacking in the quaint and picturesque
features which we look for in marine
pictures. There is an air of business,
a rush of transit, which seems to elimi-
nate the fine picturesque effects which
lend a charm even to the sordid sea wall
and wharves of European havens. Here
are no rugged piles or antique masonry;
no element of careless seafaring content
or picturesque slovenliness; simply the
ceaseless rush of business activity. The
statue of Liberty, wrapped in sunshine,
faded from our sight as we glided down
the Narrows and looked upon the castles
of deserted Coney Island and " Dream-
land," and Luna Park, standing silhou-
etted against the blue sky recalled mem-
ories of ' ' good old Summer time. ' ' Here

was Sandy Hook with its cluster of light
houses and the swaying, red light ship,
where the pilot is to leave with the mail
bag.

The great rush of thronging tourists
up to this time was in the beautiful writ-
ing room, decorated in lavender brocade.
Everything seemed to be perfected and
especially provided for writing that "last
letter," to send back by the pilot to the
loved ones at home. Now we began to
experience the swells off Sandy Hook,
and real swells they were, but even when
we got out upon long ocean waves, "off
soundings" the ship was as steady as a
ferry boat though as handsome as the
St. Regis of New York.

* * *

Just then it occurred to the practical
member of the party that it would be a
good thing to look up and see if we had
our trunks on board. Down into the
baggage room in the hold I passed— but
no trunk was there. The good baggage
master shook his head, and the prospect
was not altogether cheerful when we
considered the possibility of going on
an extended journey with only the dimin-
tive satchels with which we had been
equipped on coming on board. Well
there was nothing to do but make the
best of it, so we ^sought the inviting
languor of steamer chairs, wherein,
soothed by the soft breezes of the Gulf
Stream, we gave ourselves up to rest
and the gratification of laudable curiosity
studying the seascape — instead of the
landscape.

It seemed hardly possible to realize
that only a few hours before the decision
had been made to take a trip across
"the pond." I was startled out of my
reflective mood by an awakening not
so gentle as that of the Pullman porter.
A steward gripped me by the shoulders,
grimacing and talking in the purest Ger-
man. I knew not what awful thing had
befallen us, but I hastily followed his
white coat down to the steerage, where

0 J5

H H Q

SB K g

2 O £

O g S

* S I

Bi < cu

sT Q

9 - s

OFF FOR EUROPE ON THE "AMERIKA1

I beheld a welcome sight — none other
than the lost trunk; that little, old
steamer trunk, with it's checker of labels,
Well; Richter just took that trunk up
on broad shoulders, like a long lost child,
and carried it off to 131, where we be-
came once more a united and happy

family.

* * *

Now that we were thoroughly domesti-
cated and settled down. I ventured aft
to the smoking room. An attempt to
describe that smoking room is vain.
Imagine a reproduction of the interior o^
a historic Irish inn, with massive rafters
and cozy nooks and luxurious furniture.
At the stairway landing is a realistic
picture of a bear hunting scene in
which both bears and mountains were por-
trayed to the life. A balcony runs
around the room, affording many cozy
seats and the spacious room favored
both sociablity or a quiet nook alone.

No sooner had we sat down to
smoke than the recital of bear stories
began, and I listened to some that would
have made the Colorado and Texas adven-
tures of President Roosevelt seem very
tame in comparison. Long into the night
we heard bear stories, until the lights
began to twinkle, for the steward con-
siderately gives three flashes when it is
time to adjourn. This awakened the
nodders at the fireplace seated on oppo-
site sides, where the two had reveled
in volumes of the rare old Irish tales
of Sam'l Lover.

* # *

Just outside the smoking room, on
the kaiser and sun deck above are two
other cozy nooks with tables. It is
always necessary to have tables in a cozy
nook — of course I am not inquiring the
reason why or wherefor. Curious it
was to see the ladies and gentlemen
saunter to the smoking room for coffee
after dinner, because it is not quite the
proper thing in Europe to drink your
coffee at the dinner table. Outside the

smoking room was the most generous
display of deck room that I ever saw on
board a ship. It seemed more like a
fair sized race track than the deck of a
ship, but it was soon covered with shuffle
board and quoits, and the shuffle board
players shuffled and the quoiters quo! ted
until there was not an idler to be
found in all those days of luxurious
leisure — an extra hour every day, and
not a clock "struck" on the east-bound
journey, although it is the one instance
where the watch works "overtime."

Throughout the trip there was plenty
to do. There was a finely appointed
gymnasium with electric motors propel-
ling all sorts of apparatus, the visitor
could ride a trotting horse, or stride a
camel and be reminded of the Streets of
Cairo, and furnished with a most thrilling
and realistic idea of the peculiar sway and
shamble of the "ship of the desert. " The
only thing that the ladies questioned
was why it was not made clear to them
"what the men did on an evening when
they went to 'ride the goat.'"

There were electric baths and luxuri-
ous salt water baths; the florist's shop
provided fresh flowers every morning,
and you could almost fancy the dew was
on the violets when they were brought to
the table. The only failure to provide
all modern diversions, remarked upon
by the young man making his first voy-
age, was the absence of billiards and a
bowling alley. He said that both these
games could have been played well
enough because "the ship was so steady
— just like Philadelphia."

As I had made up my mind to read two
books a day I made a desperate inarch
away from these attractions to the library
and ladies' drawing room. What a scene
this room presented; decorated in sal-
mon silk, the walls studded with cameos,
upon a corner dais a great square piano
in a light wood case, handsome chairs
and tables, pictures and mirrors, the

"WASHINGTON" DECK COMPANIONWAY. THE FLOWER SHOP CAN BE SEEN IN BACKGROUND

ON THE WALLS OF THE NURSERY ARE HANDSOME PAINTINGS FROM QUAINT OLD GERMAN

FAIRY TALES

OFF FOR EUROPE ON THE "AMERIKA"

room seemed like a chamber in some
fairy castle, and I was again reminded
of the St. Regis. A handsome paint-
ing of the Kaiser looks down every
evening upon a brilliant company where
well gowned ladies and courtly gentle-
men meet in a social way. Well I found
the library steward and secured my book.
Now what a feast it is to look upon a
library of good books, and realize that
you can not read them all, but are at
liberty to select the book you wish.
I thought of the generous hours I had
before me in which to revel in books,
and came to the conclusion that I would
first get acquainted with Maarten Maar-
tens, so 'Dorothea' was my first book. I
returned to the upper deck, and wrapped
in a steamer rug, I snuggled down for
a good chat with Mr. Maartens, and was
soon transported far beyond the seas to
Holland and the Riviera.

* * *

After an hour or so as I looked
out upon the sea, with the white caps
just showing, I forgot my book and
dreamed that the great deep had put on
his Winter ermine; I understand that
ermine is very popular just now with the
ladies. I pinched myself, for this came
near to being poetry, so up I got and
walked the deck with the idea of making
the man with the tassel understand that
there were others who could walk as
well as he.

Those first delightful days of get-
ting acquainted had all the charm of
reading a new and wonderful book. The
dramatis personnse was complete; all
the temperaments were represented, the
bilious, the choleric, the sanguine, the
lymphatic, all were there. With the
first bugle call in the morning, we be-
came acquainted with the sweet strains
of a German ballad, in Beethoven's
"Fidelo" and how gently the notes stole
forth up and down the corridors; but
the later call was imperative, — it
said as plainly as any words, "get up!

get up!" On Sunday morning the call
was "Nearer, My God, to Thee." and to
me that sweet sad strain always awakens
thoughts of our martyred president,
whose name will ever recall the words
of that beautiful hymn. Later the band
played the old Prussian battle songs,
revived by the German emperor, and
the refrain of trumpeters, on whose in-
struments dainty pennoucellas bore the
German double eagle, was something to
remember as thrilling; but most beau-
tiful of all was the Sunday morning
hymn, played so gently that it had all
the rich harmony of the cathedral
organ and at last died away into sound-
less harmonies, drawing tears to our eyes
— a Sabbath awakening as tender as a

mother's kiss.

* * *

On the Kaiser deck was located the
great feature of the Queen of the Seas,
the latest innovation of sea. going luxury;
the Ritz-Carlton restaurant. If you
ever travel on the Amerika you will soon
know Captain Keller, sometimes called
by the unregenerate Captain Ginger,
who had charge of the restaurant. When
once inside the restaurant, you will
think you are in Paris or in London.
The decorations are on the same scale as
those throughout the ship, but it is hard
to convince oneself that this is indeed
shipboard, and when the curtains are
pulled down over the square windows,
the delusion is so complete that it is
told that it actually deluded the "captain"
himself, so that at one time he whistled
for a four wheeler to take home a de-
parting group of guests. The tables in the
restaurant are round like those in London
and Paris; a silver service is used at
breakfast and lunch, and a gold equipage
at dinner. This gold service is specially
prized because it was used by the Em-
peror William on his trip to the Medi-

terranian.

* * *

It was in the Ritz-Carlton restaurant
that Herr Pepper and his red uniformed

OFF FOR EUROPE ON THE "AMERIKA"

Vienna orchestra played. As the doors
swung to and fro, it seemed like catch-
ing glimpses of some German play, the
opening and shutting of the doors giving
the music a crescendo and pianissimo
that were unique. In the Ritz-Carlton
you are served a la carte, and nearly
every day the tables were all secured
ahead. When you dine here the head
steward gives you a rebate in considera-
tion of the dinner you might have con-
sumed in the main dining room.

There was no amusement, it seemed,
and no comfort of modern life that was
not represented, and the man who could
not find something to suit his taste on
board the Amerika must indeed be pecu-
liar. The time passed too swiftly. The
acquaintanceships of a few days ripened
into friendships — forever and aye. It
seemed as though people were only just
beginning to know each other well when
the Scilly Islands were sighted, and then
came that delightful sail about Land's
End and the romantic coast of'Cornwall,
where, if we could not actually locate
Tintagil and the other historic spots, we
at least thought we could. Early in the
afternoon the great breakwater, the moss
covered buttress of the red cliffs, was
sighted. An English landscape is always
beautiful, with a church spired picture
at every turn. Then we came to Plym-
outh Hoe, where the old captains of
Plymouth awaited the coming of the
Spanish Armada, and where finally frag-
ments of that "invincible navy," ships
battered and bannerless, were brought in
by Howard, Hawkins, Grenville and
Drake. The Hoe stands high over the
water, and catches the eye of every visi-
tor to the city or harbor. Well, we landed
at Plymouth Docks — not Plymouth Rock
like our ancestors of 1620 — from the ten-
der which came alongside and conveyed
us in safety to the quaint docks.

As we went aboard the ship in New
York, the band was playing a farewell
song, and as we landed at Plymouth the

band once more struck up, while the
British naval vessels belched ' forth a
salute, bringing to mind the stage setting
of Sullivan's "Pirates of Penzance," or
the opera of "Pinafore."

The Great Western Railway "Ocean
Special" was waiting and we traversed
247 miles in 267 minutes. No matter
how many times I visit a foreign land,
I always feel like a stranger, and
no matter how many times I see an Eng-
lish shilling I find it difficult to recog-
nize it again, nor can I even understand
the good English tongue as it is. spoken
by the natives. The little squeaky toot
of the engine was a signal that startled
me as we flew off through picturesque
England and soon arrived in Paddington
station. Then came the confusion of
once more hunting up that trunk; but it
was apprehended, I whistled for a han-
som, cabby got the trunk atop and off
we jogged for the Savoy, down wet streets
whose pavements glistened in the light.

How strange it seemed to be in London,
that great, throbbing mart of cosmopoli-
tan humanity. Go where you will, there
are people, people, and still people.
"Motor busses" whizzed by at twelve
miles an hour, but the old, reliable horse
omnibusses snailed along close to the
pavement, crowded with people sitting
aloft like crows on a tree, regardless of
whether it rained or not. The London
fog gave everything a yellow glare, and
the electric lights have a yellow shade
quite different to the white electric lights
which we use here. London without fog
and gas would not be London. What
a spectacle it is driving about in a
hansom cab to see the great city. It calls
to mind all the English romances where- .
in a cab and cabman of some sort in-
variably figure, and you can almost see
the conventional hero or heorine "In
evening dress as you sit behind one of
the 12,000 London cabbies who have

become such familiar figures in fiction.

* * *

Just off the Strand and into the spac-
ious court of the Savoy we drove, and a
"Savoyard" bade us welcome. We whirl-
ed around, the trunk was lowered amid the
chorus of whistles, calling other cabs.
Once inside we found a home indeed in
406, and beneath a liberal sized down
quilt sought slumber. Although in the
very center of London, the room was
as quiet as though we had landed in

some peaceful country town. The at-
mosphere was dense with real yellow fog,
and yet how all that great throng of
moving vehicles managed to get around
is one of the incomparable puzzles that
vexes every foreigner in London.

All the touches of English history and
romance seemed to be surging in the
dreams of tomorrow — ihe dawn of which
lingers far into noontime — because of
the fog — of course. If anything unusual
happens, why — there's the fog.

MORNING BUGLE CALL ON ALL THE HAMBURG-AMERICAN LINE BOATS

A WINTER WEEK IN LONDON

THE party of Americans coming up
on the Ocean Special had voted the
Savoy the best hotel in London, and
when an American is abroad he means
to have the best — it is an irresistible
impulse. The Savoy is an old entailed
estate redolent of the history and
romance of England's early centuries.
Located on the Strand not far from
Trafalgar Square and Charing Cross, it
is certainly the key to the hotel situa-
tion in London. Its site is more com-
monly known as Embankment Gardens.
The large dining room, overlooking the
Thames and down the river to the
House of Parliament, is a noted ren-
dezvous of London society, where after
the theater the throngs begin to assem-
ble in the foyer and restaurant amid
music and laughter for the midnight
fashionable and somewhat hearty Eng-
lish dinners.

The New Savoy has been open only
eighteen months, and a remarkable
transformation was certainly accom-
plished in this historic hostelry when
the present hotel was built. It was re-
built on modern plans, providing rooms
with baths complete, elevator service
swift enough to satisfy even the strenu-
ous hurry of the American tourists, for
whom this hotel is a popular rendezvous.
There is something about the quiet dig-
nity of the place which is restful and
reminds the tourist that he is in London
and yet not disassociated with the little
Americanisms which he now appreciates
more, than ever when away from home.
A glance over the list of guests reveals
that it is "the" hotel of London; as
has been remarked, "not the cheapest but
the best." The hotel is cosmopolitan. The
French cafe is Parisian to the slightest
detail, and the grill room is as English
as can be desired. It may not be neces-
sary to mention that the American bar

is also conveniently located. When you
say you have been at the Savoy, you
declare that you have been at the best
hotel in London. What more could be
said of the superlative character of this
hostelry? We found a pleasant home
for a fortnight, looking out on the beau-
tiful gardens which revel in history, and
it just seems like one of those honey-
moon dreams to look back upon.
Jl

Near here, at Adelphi Terrace, resides
George Bernard Shaw, who informed me
he was busy with a new play but had
little to say concerning "Mrs. Warnn's
Profession," for Mr. Shaw has anived an
acknowledged prophet in his own coun-
try—if not quite — in New York.

A note from Andrew Lang was most
welcome, but my time was too limited
for me to go to St. Andrews. Down at
Dorchester was Thomas Hardy, from
whom I received a kind note. He has
declined to write anything since he
finished "Judith the Obscure," so the
master pen of this fiction writer lies idle.
I could not help but think of him as I
rode through the west of England and
looked across the Wessex counties which
he has made memorable. Over among
the hills was Wooten-under-the-Edge, a
characteristic name and a picturesque
spot. The west of England remains
everlastingly and eternally English, un-
touched by the influence of the Danish
and Norman conquests.
£

George Meredith was suffering from a
broken knee. I had written him, but he
could not make out the signature, so in
answering my note he cut out the name
and pasted it on the outside of the en-
velope, leaving the mystery to be solved
by the postorfice. After receiving this
among my first lot of mail matter, I
almost decided to use a rubber stamp
for the future, but a friend remarked to

A WINTER WEEK IN LONDON

me that if I had merely signed myself
"Joe Chappie" it would have been all
right; "it was the middle barrel in the
name that was confusing."

A hundred small peculiarities strike
the stranger in London ; one that some-
what surptised me was that at the aver-
age midday lunch resorts the checker or
"draught" board and dominoes were
brought out. and I could not but fancy
how such a procedure would be looked

wide collar and knows just how to satisfy
Americans. If you want a suit of sou-
venier English clothes wearable in Amer-
ica, just look in on Blurton and tell him
you know Joe Chappie and you will be
surprised to see how nicely you will be
treated. See Blurton himself. He ap-
preciates American ways. Blurton puts
buttons on all the pockets — pickpocket
proof.

We were there for Guy Fawkes Day,
and as I walked along one of the streets

A GLIMPSE OF THE OLD SAVOY IN THE CENTURIES OF LONG AGO

upon in the "quick lunch" dyspepsia
factories of America. The clerks —
"clarks" the word is pronounced in
England — laying aside their silk hat'
to have a leisurely game of "draughts1
during the noon hour, was indeed a
novelty to one accustomed to the strenu-
ous life of America.
#

I had Blurton, near Norfolk street,
make me a suit of clothes. He put on a

I happened to take up my stand behind
an Irishman who was meditating before
a window in which was exhibited a suit
marked sixteen shillings.

"That's certainly a bargain," I said.

"Be jabers," said he, "you would not
dare to walk out in the like of that
tonight!"

This was the first intimation that on
this day the small boys are on the look-
out for suitable ill-fitting and shoddy;

A WINTER WEEK IN LONDON

clothing in which to dress the effigy of
the wicked Guy. This is the day, No-
vember 5, that Englishmen utilize the
fireworks and rockets left over from the
4th of July — perhaps.

I went down through Trafalgar Square,
Pall Mall, across St. James Park to Vic-
toria street and called upon Ambassador
Reid. The door was opened by a boy
in buttons
and I was
shown into
the reception
r oom . On
the walls I
noticed the
portrait of
John Quincy
Adams and
paintings of
others who
had repre-
sented our
country at the
court of St.
James. A
m a s s i v e
bookcase
containing
the consular
reports from
the time of
1776 lined the
walls of the
room. On the
table was a
register and
in an adjoin- LORD BURNHAM, PUBLISHER
i ng room

were accumulated masses of letters and
mail matter which had been sent to
American travelers care of the ambas-
sador.

By a cosy grate fire, I found the dis-
tinguished gentleman who had just re-
turned from a week-end excursion hav-
ing been invited to join the king's shoot-
ing party at Sandringham. Mr. Reid
enjoys the close friendship of his
majesty, having become acquainted with

him over twenty-five years ago, when he
was Prince of Wales.

On the walls of that inner room were
photographs of all the ministers and
ambassadors, and over the mantel was
a picture of Robert T. Lincoln, the card
bearing his inscription "the last," mean-
ing that Mr. Lincoln was the last minis-
ter of the U. S. at the court of St.

James, as the
station was
after raised
to an ambas-
sadorship.

Mr. Reid
is peculiarly
fitted for this
post, having
known every
minister and
ambassador
for the past
fifty years.
It was here in
this room that
Secretary
Hay served
h i s country
so well dur-
ing the trying
days of the
Spanish war.
American
methods o f
doing busi-
ness were
plainly visi-
ble in the
conductingof

this office. There was the click of the
typewriter, and it was evident that
prompt dispatch of all correspondence
was the rule.

What a jolly chat I had with Mr. Reid,
for if there ever was a type of true blue
Americanism it is Whitelaw Reid. This
gentleman was born in Ohio and later
made his way East, leading the way for
the noted Ohio contingent. It is now re-
lated how Secretary Hay sent to Ambas-

LONLON DAILY TELEGRAPH

A WINTER WEEK IN LONDON

sador Reid a portrait, writing his signa-
ture and inscription with his own hand)
wnich kindly remembrance only reached
the embassy after the death of the sender.
Jl

Near the American embassy are
are those owned by the various countries
which they represent. Leaving the em-
bassy, we turned toward Westminster
Abbey, and what memories
were awakened by that
grand old pile! I thought
of the day of the coronation,
as I passed through the
Abbey and now walked
over places where the guard
had been so strict on that
day that it was a difficult
matter for anyone to pass.
Shrouded in the mist aris-
ing from the Thames was
the statue of Beaconsfield.
I heard again the old bell
of Westminster tower peal-
ing forth as it did on the
day of the king's corona-
tion. Under soft showers
of rain I trudged on, trous-
ers tucked up, and. enjoying
every moment of our stroll
in London. Ihadagllmpse
of the .War office and the
Home office .at Downing
street. It was only a glimpse
but in the very atmos-
phere of the -place there
was a suggestion of unusual
change in the ministry
tvhich has since occurred.

Little did I think when dining at the
National Liberal Club that there would
soon come into power a Liberal cabinet.
We talked far into the morning. There
was Allison of Australia, Jones of Wales,
Grenshaw of South Africa and Finley of
India. Sir Edward Grey is easily the
most popular young liberal of today in
England and that night there was an air
of anticipation, of "something doing,"
at the National Liberal Club. The pro-

traits of Gladstone and Bright looked
upon us as we lingered until the small
hours. The Right Honorable Joseph
Chamberlain is not right popular here —
and Campbell-Bannerman was then pre-
dicted as the future premier of England,
for the troubles at Downing street were
dark and threatening. Mr. Allison is
with Mr. Spottiswoode, the royal printer,

HOK IT. . W. LAWSON, M. P., DAILY TELEGRAPH

whom I afterward met and congratulated
upon the fact that one of his distin-
guished ancestors was the first governor
of-Virginia.- Mr. Spottiswoode is the
real type of an English gentleman whom
it is always a pleasure and honor to
meet.

And now it is a peerage Sir Alfred
Harmsworth possesses, and he's a real
viscount, too. When I was at his office

SIR ALFRED HARMSWORTH AND HIS FAVORITE PET

A WINTER WEEK IN LONDON

to fill my appointment before leaving for
Germany, I felt that if there is one Eng-
lishman who deserves all the honors of
American appreciation, it is this young
man, whose career reads like a romance
and who has never been found wanting
in "Answers" for any proposition —
great or small. The projector and ex-
ecutor of great and daring projects in
publishing, he has certainly left an im-
press on his times as a force and an
inspiration, emphasizing the possibilities
and opportunities of his day and gener-
ation.

As I walked along Waterloo Place, I
saw a familiar sign— it was the American

PAUL E. DERRICK

The American Advertising Man, who has Popularized
the American Ideas in England

Express. In early days I was in the
employ of this company, and whenever
I see the shield and name, I feel as if
I had found an old friend. The home
feeling was enhanced by a pleasant visit

with Mr. Flagg, the London manager.
The American Express Company is
now carrying packages for the English
Parcel Post department in the Royal
Mail service; they have a happy faculty
of adjusting themselves and their
methods to any conditions, domestic or
foreign.

The outer office was thronged with
with Americans, obtaining or cashing
money orders. In an office register you
find the address of almost every Ameri-
can in London. The usual custom of
travelers having no permanent address
is to have all mail sent to Number 3,
Waterloo Place, care of the American
Express Company, and here they can
always find their welcome home letters.

It was at this office that I made a
record for speedy communication with
Boston. At one o'clock I cabled for
some money, and at eight the following
morning it was being paid to me at
Number 3, Waterloo Place. The Ameri-
can Express Company is really entitled
to the credit of being the world's popular
bankers, and they were the first to intro-
duce and successfully handle money
orders by the system now in common

use.

Walking up the Strand that same aay I
met Hon. John Morley, since made the
foreign secretary for India, who was re-
turning from the unveiling of Gladstone's
monument, which stands in a conspicu-
ous place on the Strand in front of the
church of St. Clement Danes. It is
a colossal bronze statue, showing the
statesman in his robes as chancellor of
the exchequer, on a pedestal of Port-
land stone, with fcur bronze allegorical
groups in Renaissance style representing
"Brotherhood," "Education," "Aspira-
tion" and "Courage." Alarge tent was
erected for the exercises, for London
weather at this time of the year is not
to be trusted.

Near the Law Courts large blocks of
buildings are being erected, the leases

A WINTER WEEK IN LONDON

of which are to be given out by the
county council. It was interesting to
see the old-fashioned scaffolding, con-
structed by tying timbers together with
ropes; modes of American construction
not being as yet in full favor.

Every time I go about London it
seems as if page after page of Dickens
is revealed to me, from Cheapside to
Golden Cross, and I even imagine that
I can see across the street dear old
Pickwick himself. It is doubtful if any

and it looks as though the whole neigh-
borhood might in time become Ameri-
canized. I soon learned that the West-
inghouse manager, Mr. Carleton, had
just succeeded William I. Buchanan, who
was director-general of the Pan-Ameri-
can Exposition. He was then busy
translating a London hotel bill, con-
cerning which he remarked that he had
been "charged with everything except
improper conduct."

The day that I met Mr. R. C. Lee,
advertising manager of the Telegraph,

SAVOY HOTEL, EMBANKMENTS GARDEN, LONDON,

man ever portrayed London as Dickens,
and there is another Dickens revival
imminent — now that Beerbohm Tree
believes he can unfold the great dra-
matic possibilities of Dickens' works
to the extent of a popular box office
success.

From Norfolk street across to the Law
Courts one can view the most picturesque
scene in London. On this corner stands
the Westinghouse building, the interior
of which is modelled on American ideas,

I experienced s.ome'thing new in driving
about the city^^vith him to call on
his customers in a dog-cart and
gather up copy by the armful. Jogging
from one end of London to the other,
this advertising man, connected with one
of the largest papers in England, derives
his inspiration. I had long been led to
believe from the reading of "fiction"-
this is not a joke — that the Old Thun-
derer was the paper of England, but a
few days on the ground convinced me
that the great newspaper of England is

A WINTER WEEK IN LONDON

"The Telegraph." It was my good for-
tune to go through this mammoth plant on
Fleet street, at the site of historic Ches-
hire cheese made famous by Dr. John-
son. In the wide space below is the
printing equipment. Such an immense
printing equipment I have never looked
upon, and it is said to be one of the largest
in the world. Everything is absolutely
complete, from the "mill" department to
the editorial offices behind the large
clock on which are the words "The
Telegraph' ' instead of the usual twelve nu-
merals. Inside the court yard are stabled
horses for the use of the establishment,
and these animals occupy ground which
is worth $ i oo a foot. Lord Burnham
and his son Harry P. Lawson, M.P., are at
the head of the paper, which is one of the
supporters of the Right Honorable
Joseph Chamberlain in his tariff

campaign.

A vast difference of terms on the Eng-
lish and American side was apparent and
it entertained me to hear them talk about
"blocks" meaning electrotypes and of
"series" of ads indicating continuous ser-
vice as. All the advertisements in the
large papers go by the inch, rather than
by the agate line, as with us, and it is
noticeable that the American method of
advertising is gradually forcing itself into
the English papers, though the brilliant,
dizzy and elastic expressions of Ameri-
can "advertects" would now hardly be
effective in England, though they are
coming to it slowly. In fact, after being
there for a few days one grows accus-
tomed to and admires the stately and
dignified manner in which the English
newspapers do their work. The inter-
national edition of Profitable Advertis-
ing made a profound sensation in ad-
vertising circles in England on its arrival
while I was there and there were many
fine compliments for the undertaking.
Jt

At 34 Norfolk street the Paul E. Der-
rick Advertising Agency is located.

Here you have the real swing of busi-
ness, and it was plain to see that Mr.
Derrick, who has been 'dentified with
the Quaker Oats advertising for so long,
has made a notable conquest. He rep-
• resents some of the largest American
firms in England and also serves a great
number of English customers. Here
there was just enough of the flavor of
American methods to make it seem
homelike, and yet no one better under-
stands the conditions and adaptations
necessary for English trade. Mr. Der-
rick has two efficient assistants in Mr.
Pelot and Mr. Sofia. This agency has
imported to England the alert activity
characteristic of American advertising.
&

The first Sunday of my arrival I spent
at Walton-on-Thames, where I visited
the graves of my grandmother and
grandfather in a drizzling rain. What
memories were awakened as I looked on
the old church, built in the eleventh cen-
tury, with its rugged Norman tower.
Inside were inscriptions dating back
hundreds of years. I looked upon the
deep and narrow Thames in which the
swans were moving about, and thought
of the dear father at home in America
who had often spoken of watching the
swans from the banks of the Thames in
the days of his boyhood. The chimes
rang out in the tower and brought to
mind the time when I heard Sir Arthur
Sullivan play the accompaniment of
"The Lost Chord" on the old organ in
this church famous in the time of Eliza-
beth and located near the Manor House
which figured conspicuously in Corn-
wall's time.

On the narrow, winding street I found
my friend Mr. Wheatley the hair dres-
ser— barbers we call them — whom I dis-
covered was now using a Gillette safety
razor on his customers, and here was
instanced the power of advertising in
American magazines, for Mr. Wheatley
assured me he never should have heard

A WINTER WEEK IN LONDON

of a new fangled razor if it had not been
recommended by such a publication as
The National lagazine.
Jl

At Queens Hall on Sunday evening we
attended an orchestral concert given
under the auspices of the National Sun-
day League. This work has been con-
tinued successfully since 1855 and ex-
presses a conscientious religious belief in
brightening the lives of the people on
Sunday. The purpose is to make the
day more beneficial and not to abrogate
it as a day of rest. Queens Hall some-
what resembles Boston Symphony hall,
and is controlled by Chappell & Com-
pany, music publishers. At . first I
felt like claiming relationship when I
heard the handsome grand piano they
manufacture. The program was a feast
of music including Weber's "Oberon,"
Mendelssohn's Bee Song, Massenet's
"Le Cid" march, Gounod's "St. Celia"
c,nd concluding with Sullivan's stirring
"Di Ballo" overture. But it was the
young leader, W. H. Squire, who was
the star of the evening. He is a celloist
and gathered together an incomparable
orchestra, wielding the baton in public
for the first time. Modest and gracious,
he responded to repeated encores when
the orchestra played his own charming
"The Yoemanry Patrol." Mr. Squire
is a coming man as an orchestra leader.
We had a chat after the concert, and
when I told him he resembled Senator
Bevei idge he bowed graciously.
Jl

Ambassador Reid resides at Dorchester
House, which stands alone in Park Lane
facing the park, near the famed marble
arch. It is a square, massive building
with pillared portico, approached by a
red graveled drive. The property is
owned by Captain Holford, probably
the wealthiest commoner in England.
The building is so large that it was a
sort of "white elephant" and no tenant
could be found to undertake the expense
of keeping up such an establishment.

However, it is especially suited to its
present use as the home of the American
ambassador; the numbers of Americans
visiting London have never before been
comfortably accommodated at the recep-
tions given by the American ambassador.

The interior of Dorchester House is
very handsome. A variety of light
colored marbles are used in the hall
and grand staircase, and the tesselated
floor is very handsome. A broad gallery
with open arcades and mural paintings
invites the visitor to enter the suite of
drawing rooms where may be found one
of the best collections of paintings in
London. There is a portrait of Philip
Fourth by Velasquez and a rare paint-
ing by Cuyp which represents his own
Dutch seaport home. There are land-
scapes by Claude and both the Poussins,
as well as celebrated works by Murillo,
and Van Dyck, Taniers, Greuze and
two exquisite sketches by Rubens. I
was interested to learn that an elevator
had been added to the equipment, giving
a distinctively American finish to Dor-
chester House.

We lunched in the breakfast room, and
it is in the state dining room that the much
admired marble mantelpiece may be
seen. The figures at either side of this
mantel are almost life-size, and are ex-
quisite specimens of Italian sculpture.
#

Leaving London at noon on the Mid-
land from St. Pancras station, I jsn joyed
the luxury of a "restaurant car," and
the roast beef was the real article. Our
American roads will have to begin to look
ahead for new ideas, as the English ser-
ice seems to be improving every year
and the "restaurant car" is one of the
charms of the picturesque Midland
route; a trip on which must be included
in any itinerary of an English tour that
is to be at all complete.

In Manchester I was reminded that I
was in the model city of the world, where
municipal ownership has proved a suc-
cess. It was here I could not resist the

A WINTER WEEK IN. LONDON

impulse to call on Messrs. Jewesbury &
Brown on Ardwick Green, a place of
historic interest. This institution manu-
factures mineral waters for all quarters
of the globe, to say nothing of the Orient-
al Tooth Paste, which has had such pop-
ularity in both England and America
during the past century. It was indeed
a delight to meet Mr. Stones, the pro-
prietor, his two sturdy sons, and Mr.
John Bardsley and Mr. Bardsley Senior.

Manchester is certainly a center of
evolution. My time was short and three
hours was all I could permit myself in
this wonderful, old business city. Then
off for Birmingham, where on leaving
the train I wandered up Corporation
street during a heavy fog. There were
more empty stores in Birmingham than
I had ever seen in any English city, and
it is no wonder that the agitation of Mr.
Chamblerain for a protective tariff finds
favor, in his own home, for the situation
seems to demand heroic action^
jl

The drive up to Highbury to Moor
Green was indeed a rare treat. Through
the gate we passed and were soon view-
ing the home of one who is perhaps the
most characteristic and remarkable Eng-
lishman of the day, the Right Honorable
Joseph Chamberlain. He consistently
refuses all interviews, but I was pleased
to have this opportunity to visit his
home.

The trunks of the trees on the spa-
cious grounds were encased in iron as
a protection, an indication of the protec-
tion the owner of the lodge would like
to throw around British industries, and
the house had a touch of homelike com-
fort which somehov; indicted that the
American chatelaine brought to her Eng-
lish home all the spirit of the Endicotts
of Salem, Massachusetts. The house is
of red brick and has a handsome terra
cotta frieze emblematic of the wonderful
career of the owner.

Sturdy and self reliant is the little
man with the monocle and though it is

not expected that he will win at the next
general election in February, it is con-
fidently believed that finally his views
will be adopted in the country and that
some effort will be made to protect Eng-
lish manufacturers from the avalanche of
foreign imports which is overpowering
the workers of England.

In England when information is to
be given out by a noted statesman,
it is promulgated in a speech, well
thought out, and then the speaker
stands by what he has said. It is de-
clared by many that when a public man
has a popular nickname, such as has
"Joe" Chamberlain, he becomes a power
in English public life.
<*

When Mr. Chamberlain was on the
continent and was registered from Prin-
cess' Gardens his London home, his
secretary, Mr. Wilson, was confronted
with a generously inflated hotel bill and
protested.

"Oh, well if His Highness objects—"

It's not His Highness, it's Honorable
Joseph Chamberlain."

"Now see here, if His Highness
desires to travel incognito he ought not
to register from Princess Gardens. You
cannot deceive me — he is a real nub
of royalty."

So much for living in a town house
with a royal scent. Its plain "Joe" with
the people — but the residence "Princess
Gardens" was too strong a clew to
royalty for the French landlord to over-
look.

And did you by any chance ever know
that Washington Irving wrote Rip Van
Winkle in a little cottage in the suburbs
of Birmingham? And here too lived
Sir Rowland Hill the father of penny
postage, Dr. Priestly the discoverer of
oxygen and the noble friend of America,
John Bright.

From Birmingham I went to Bristol,
where I looked upon a seaport of busy,
active modern life. The Bristol tram-

A WINTER WEEK IN LONDON

way system is unexcelled and everything
else seems to be in keeping with it. The
,city reminded me of America, and a
great deal of American trade is trans-'
acted in this seaport. In St. Augus-
tine's Park or Tramway center one has
a picturesque view of the quaint old city
with modern ways. In an old part of
the city is located the establishment of
Fry's Cocoa, which has been known to
the trade since 1720. An express train
flies across England in a few hours, from
London to Bristol, over the Great West-
ern which railroad now operates the
largest mileage in Great Britain. On
our return journey to London, we
stopped at Bath and looked upon the
remains of the baths of olden times,
recently rediscovered. These, with the
modern baths, are making the old city
as popular as a relief for rheumatism
and kindred diseases as it was in the
days of Queen Anne.

Returning to London I enjoyed a day
with Mr. Joseph Fels at Bickley, Kent.
Mr. Fels has as a near neighbor Prince
Kropatkin, the Russian Nihilist, a liter-
ary gentleman whose genial face seems
to contradict all the traditions of Nihil-
ism. Strange as it may seem, England
is the only country in which this noted
Russian is permitted to reside, even our
own America declining to give him a
home.

Mr. Fels is deeply interested in the
Poplar Labor Colony, which is doing so
much to alleviate the distress of the
times in England, and no man has done
more practical work in the line of pro-
curing employment for the unemployed
than has this energetic business man,
who is never too busy to give thought
and time and consideration as well as
money to the great problem of the hour

in England.

Right in line with this thought I had
a talk with George Lansbury, one of the

prominent labor leaders at Bow street
in the East End. While the solution of
this grave problem must come necessarily
by process of evolution, and will not be
pre-eminently aided by lamentations, the
situation is so grave that immediate
steps must be taken. The labor leader
in Parliament is Mr. J. Keir Hardie, a
hard-headed Scotchman who was once
a miner, and is counted as one of the
best speakers in parliament. He is a
man of strong convictions and will make
his own way; though he acknowledged
that he made a mistake in being intro-
duced to parliament in his working
clothes, having refused to wear the regu-
lation dress of the members, because it
looked to him like a desertion of the
cause of the workingmen whom he rep-
resented. He thinks that he injured his
cause by this bit of obstinacy; as his
philosophy is not of that rabid kind that
wants to hurl down everyone who is
above him, but is based on the funda-
mental good intentions of men, if they
can be reached and reasoned with and
have their hearts touched with human
sympathy.

In Shoe Lane I was entertained by
Mr. C. Arthur Pearson, editor of the
Standard and Pearson's long list of inter-
esting publications. If there is an Eng-
lish publisher whom Americans feel that
they have adopted it is Mr. Pearson.
His close relations with Chamberlain
identify him with the tariff reform move-
ment. Few men have a more potential
following in England than has this young
man with the gold rimmed spectacles and

dark moustache.

One day at Charing Cross I paused at
a souvenir postal stand and began to think
I would purchase some cards to mail
home, but found that nothing short of
including every name on the entire sub-
scription list of the National could satisfy
me, so I concluded I had better not

C. ARTHUR PEARSON

A WINTER WEEK IN LONDON

commence on so large an enterprise.

It was upon the yellow-sanded streets
leading from Buckingham palace that I
once more looked upon King Edward. It
was during the visit of King George of
Greece, and all business was suspended
while the royal procession passed. There
were flags and decorations and the
escort of soldiery was very inspiriting. It
rained — but what matter — the loyal
Britisher must have a look now and then
at the kind and genial face of their
sovereign. Lord Mayor's day also "hap-
pened" while we were there. This page-
ant is passing from the gilded glory of
former days. The scene on the Strand
on that day was one to be remembered.
The people were packed in on either side
and no ropes were required to keep the
crowd back. The wave of a London
"Bobbie's" hand is sufficient,

"Here they come !" is whispered down
the line, and in a few moments had
passed what the people waited hours to
behold. There is some talk of doing
away with the parade. There was the
stately soldiery, the representation from
Dr. Bernardo's industrial schools — then
the floats representing the entente cor-
diale between England and France and
another the Peace of Portsmouth, where
broken cannon lie between a representa-
tive Russian and Japanese — best of all
was the stars and stripes with which the
rear was draped — and how the Ameri-
cans on that surging strand did yell as it
passed. At the end of the procession
came the stately gilded coach containing
the new Lord Mayor. The banquet at
Guild Hall, the Lord Mayor's mansion,
was the crowning event of the day and
here was where Ambassador Reid made
an impromptu response that was replete
with good feeling and fellowship and
sparkled with nimble American wit.

Through the "two-penny tube" I made
a trip with Mr, Henshall, the English

representative of the National Magazine,
to call upon Alice and Claude Askew, a
young gentleman and his wife who are
well known in literary circles. They
collaborate on their novels, and "The
Shunamite" has rapidly made a name
for them. They are home-loving pair and
have inaugurated their literary career in
a most unpretentious way, and although
they describe many places which they
have never visited, persons familiar with
the scenes written of declare that the de-
scriptions are absolutely accurate, and
this power of telling of the unseen is
ascribed by Mrs. Askew to clairvoyance.
She has produced a series of New Eng-
land stories which have the verisimili-
tude of well known facts. She dictates
a large part cf her work, and the
moment a scene occurs to her she at
once gets it down before it escapes.
While conversing, she often excuses her-
self, remarking to her husband:

"I have a splendid love scene."

And the scene soon comes hot off the
typewriter grill — ready for reading.

They had just entered the name of
their five-year-old son for Eton, as it
necessary to have entries made ten years
ahead in order to get a promising lad
into this famous old school,
je

Now it was time to leave London. A
visit to one of Mr. Frohman's conquer-
ing theatrical productions, a chat with
Beerbohm Tree in the green room dur-
ing his great production of "Oliver
Twist/' — a real touch of Dicken's Lon-
don — and I had looked upon the
genial and gracious countenance of King
Edward with a feeling that your loyal
Englishman's confidence is not mis-
placed in his great sovereign. But there
is yet the Kaiser — and Berlin — and
in a few days the good ship sails! So I
let out the jib spanker and mainsail for
the homestretch— fog or no fog.

ON TO THE GERMAN CAPITAL

TWENTY-FOUR hours from England
to Germany! How it startles an
American to find the distances so short
on the Continent! At eight o'clock one
dark, threatening night I started out to
take passage on a Great Eastern steamer
for Flushing in Holland. It was a raging
billowy tempest, such as is only found in
the English Channel, and my mind was
filled with visions of the sturdy Norse-
men, who successfully sailed over these
seas in their rude ships. It means some-
thing to live and conquer such a turbu-
lent stretch of water as the North Sea,
and these old sailors and warriors were
certainly entitled to their laurels. At five
o'clock next morning, long before sun-
rise, we were in the Netherlands, steam-
ing across the country, — as barren and
flat a tract as I have ever looked upon.
There was frost on the ground-rT saw
many indications of the struggle for exist-
ence which the sturdy Dutch are making.
A land reclaimed from the sea, Holland
is not inviting except to the natives
themselves. When the train crossed the
great river I was looking down toward
Bussum; I was in the speisel wagon
taking my morning cup of cocoa, and,
sure enough, it was Bensdorp's own
Royal Dutch cocoa which has now become
so popular throughout America. The im-
provement in the landscape and houses
was noticeable immediately we toucHed
the German frontier. It seemed as
though the character of the kaiser was
imbued. I observed, however, that the
goods trains did not seem to be heavily
freighted, and we only met two or three
of them, though several passenger trains
went by. It seems that the traffic on
this side is exactly the opposite of that
in America, where freight traffic prepon-
derates, while the passenger trains are
more frequent in Europe. The rail-
roads here are owned by the govern-
ment, and it must be admitted that if

the Prussian lines are examples of gov-
ernment ownership, it is safe to aver
that Americans would not tolerate such
conditions. Not that they are so very
bad, but there is nothing to equal th'e
modernity which is enjoyed by the aver-
age American when he travels.
* *

It was an interesting day that I spent
swinging along through Northern Prus-
sia. We reached Hamburg in the even-
ing; to me there is no more entertaining
city on the continent of Europe, One
of the three free cities of Germany, it
today maintains its independence and is
absolutely free of all German tariff laws.
Of the famous "Hansetown" only Bre-
men, Hamburg and Lubeck remain —
the three principal ports of Germany —
but in the last two decades Hamburg
has swept on to unparalleled prosperity
and now is a city of half a million popu-
lation. This metropolis owes its origin
to a blockhouse, for in 808 this was an
outpost against the Savonians, and from
that nucleus the city grew. Hamburg
has made Germany the emporium of
northern European commerce. It pos-
sesses fine streets and squares and has
two lakes, formed by the expansion of the
Elbe. These two inland lakes are joined
by Lombards Bridge. What a pic-
turesque sight it was to look upon that
forest of masts and those inland lakes
in which the swans were so gracefully

floating !

* * *

On the banks of Alster Lake is
a handsome building of three or four
stories — the home of the Hamburg-
American Line. Into the spacious office
with its domed ceiling, I entered with
a feeling that here was one of the chief
factors of the great expansion of German
trade throughout the world. The Ham-
burg-American Line, with its fleet of 163
screw steamers, reaches almost every port

ON TO THE GERMAN CAPITAL

in the world. The sturdy German crews
go to all parts of the world, from Mexico
to Patagonia, from Europe to Madagascar
and the Orient, and in fact almost every
part of the earth that has a seaport. It
may be said that the Germans are the
great trading people of the times. If
there is any one institution in Hamburg
in which the citizens take a just pride,
it is the Hamburg- American Line, which
is the great main artery of commerce for
their city and the empire.

I took a night train to Berlin, across
the flat, sandy country, and arrived at
the metropolis of Germany inhabited by
over two millions of people. There is
an air of bustle and stir that reminds
one of the breeziness of Chicago streets.
Wide, spacious thoroughfares and hand-
some buildings are characteristic of the
city, and the visitor is especially at-
tracted to the Unter-der-Linden, with its
handsome rows of trees. Along that
street you see very few glass shop
fronts, the business establishments hav-
ing more the appearance of offices. At
one end is the statue of Victory and at
the other the famous gate topped with a
chariot and horses. It is in Berlin that
the Kaiser has placed the statues of the
Hohenzollerns. The statues front about
in regular file on a semi-circle of marble
for pedestals and have a military appear-
ance. At the back is a Grecian bench,
and there is also a representation of two
famous contemporaries of each sover-
eign. There are thirty-two of these
statues, beginning with Albert and end-
ing with William the First.

The Berlin people invariably enjoy
their noonday nap; many banks and
stores are closed between twelve and one
but are kept open an hour later in the
evening. On the corners of the great
streets are round columns, perhaps two
feet in diameter, on which all public an-
nouncements are posted; unsightly daubs
are not seen on every corner and wall, but

all advertising is collected in these spe-
cially prepared places. Another thing
noticed was that cab drivers are provided
with a cash register, so that the passen-
ger sees exactly the amount due as the
wheels go round. At the commencement

MISS ELEANOR KESSLER, THE YOUNG AMERICAN

PRIMA DONNA WHO HAS MADE A GREAT

SUCCESS IN GERMANY, AS PAMINA

IN THE "MAGIC FLUTE"

of the journey, the fee is fifty pfennig,
and at certain intervals the fare rises
ten pfennigs more, until one finds the cab
fare mounting up as distance is covered.

* * *

Berlin is recognized as the great musi-
cal center of Europe, although the sing-
ers complain of the climate. If the
approval of Berlin audiences is gained,

ON TO THE GERMAN CAPITAL

a performer feels he has nothing to fear
elsewhere. Here in the city of music I
had the pleasure of hearing two young
prima donnas, Miss Kessler and Miss
Howard, who sang before Herr Ernst
Catenhusen in his studio, at the sugges-
tion of Lila Lehmann.

Miss Eleanor Kessler sang last season
in royal opera at Lubeck and won merited
laurels in an extended repertoire. Her
"Pamina" in the "Magic Flute" is pro-
nounced one of the best creations by
a debutante in recent years. She will
sing in oratorio at Amherst and at other
New England festivals in the Spring,
and has just closed a contract to appear
at the Stadt theater Wursburg, Germany,
next September. In matters musical the
standard of this theater is little short of
Bayreuth and Munich. She will be the
first singer in her role, and the triumph
and success of this young Philadelphia
prima donna is a matter of great interest
to the American colony in Berlirir who
predict a great triumph for her when she

makes her appearance in grand opera in
America.

* * *

The house of the Imperial Diet is
known as the Reichstag. We drove
around the great square to see the new
statue of Von Moltke which has
been recently unveiled. It is unique,
being the only statue in Germany where
he is permitted to wear his cap. Oppo-
site this statue is one of Bismarck in
heroic size. Diagonally from that is
a representation of Roon, and a fourth
statue in the square is one of the famous

Wilhelm. I

* * *

On the Unter der-Linden the largest
plate glass window in the city reveals
the palatial new offices of the Hamburg-
American Line. When I say it is the
handsomest office in the world I am
modestly stating a fact. Behind this mas-
sive window is a spacious room, finished
in solid mahogany and brass. On the
left is the passenger department, with

comfortable and artistic rest and read-
ing rooms, and ladies' rooms finished in
rare woods. On the right is the tourist
department of the old established Stan-
gin firm recently amalgamated with the
Hamburg-American Line, an agency
which has built up a large business.
On the wall I noticed several dispatches
from America. The whole scheme
of decoration, the furnishing and
equipment throughout speak of comfort
and pleasure for those who cross the
threshold. I observed on a rack an
assortment of blazing American railway
folders, showing in red, white and blue
what the attractions of the various roads
were. Here were passengers booking
for the Orient and for tours encircling
the globe as complacently as if they
were purchasing a Nantasket excursion

ticket.

# * *

In the rear of the building are the
private offices where the Berlin officials
meet daily, among whom are Mr. Louis
and Carl. S. Stangin, and Mr. Grongoff.
The directors' room is finished in oak,
dark and massive, which had been under
water for over 100 years, resulting in the
rich color which it now possesses. The
equipment of this office speaks volumes
for the determination of this line to
please and accommodate its patrons.
Under General Director Ballin they have
certainly given careful thought and con-
sideration to making their line the best
in the world. And it would indeed be
difficult to compute the great world traffic
which this Company is building up from
the headquarters at Hamburg and Berlin.

# * *

The tendency of the times toward con-
centration is illustrated in the policy of
the Hamburg-American line in having
their own exclusive offices in * arious
cities. Among those "booked" /as Herr
Von Schroeder, who is to have charge
of the Boston office. It is unnecessary
to say we were soon acquainted, and few
men are more thoroughly acquainted with

ON TO THE GERMAN CAPITAL

the needs of world-wide travel. He has
looked after travelers upon nearly every
sea on the earth's surface, and his ex-
perience is especially valuable in con-
nection with the extensive world-tourist
department recently inaugurated by the
company.

In following this policy, Aldrich Court
on Broadway in New York City, the site
of their present offices, was purchased
for $1,200,000, and the Hamburg- Ameri-
can is the first steamship company
to own its own offices in New York.

The New York general offices will
be on the same palatial scale as the

AUGUST SCHERL ONE OF THE LARGEST PERI-
ODICAL PUBLISHERS IN GERMANY

home offices in Hamburg and Berlin.
There will also be offices in Chicago,
Philadelphia, San Francisco and St.
Louis, all in charge of their own men,
who have served at Hamburg and grown
up with the company. They can tell
patrons of a personal knowledge of the
cruises to Norway and the Land of the
Midnight Sun, or the trip to Iceland.
They know from experience of the con-
veniences of the Princess Victoria or

Meteor, two vessels built exclusively for
pleasure parties and cruising, thus placing
within the reach of those of moderate
means all the luxury of sailing an ocean-
going pleasure yacht without the strain
of handling a millionaire's revenue, — a
fine example of cooperation. Then there
are Winter Mediterranean cruises, in
which the large steamers participate, the
West Indies, the Orient and South
American. No wonder that the Kaiser
has decorated Herr Albert Ballin, the
master genius of this great world-em-
bracing corporation, for not only has
he rendered an incomparable service to
the empire, but to every country and
clime where the compass of his captains

may direct.

* * *

At Hotel Savoy, Berlin, on Frederich
Strasse, I found Mr. Brown, the genial
Boniface who was so kind and courteous
to me in years gone by. Mr. Brown,
who is an American, has built up one
of the most popular hostelries for Amer-
icans in Berlin.

At the American embassy there was
a throng of Americans. The consul-
general, Mr. Thackera, is located
in the "Equitable Building," which
is termed the storm center of American
trade invasion. I received a most cor-
dial welcome from Mr. Dreher of the
Associated Press. He is accounted one
of the ablest foreign correspondents and
is a close student of men and affairs.

Mr. Valentine Williams, in charge of
the Reuter Agency, is a young man
thoroughly equipped for his work, and
nobody seems to study and understand
Berlin and Germany more thoroughly.
It was a rare privilege to drive with him
about the city, which, by the way, was
filled with Russian refugees, who were
waiting for the turmoil to subside in
their native land before recrossing the
frontier. On the train from Flushing I
met a young English journalist, A. R.
Reynolds, going to Russia for the London
Daily News. Of course I engaged him

ON TO THE GERMAN CAPITAL

for an article for the National. He has
resided in Russia for years, wore a fur
coat and astrakan cap and talked Russian
like a native. Happily I met him again
at the the Berlin railway station, where
he was detained owing to the embargo
on all St. Petersburg railway traffic oc-
casioned by the uprisings in Russia.
* * *

The climax of the visit to Berlin
was the night spent in the office of the
Local Zeitung and the establishment of
August Scherl, who is accounted the
great publisher of Germany. He has
a large number of publications similar
to those of Pearson and Harmsworth
in England. A night spent in this busy
establishment was indeed a great pleas-
ure and of keen interest. We have much
to learn in America about doing work
thoroughly; we may do it quicker, but
the exact military precision with which
the vast number of periodicals were
turned out in this establishment amazed
me. They may not utilize as much labor

saving machinery as in American estab-
lishments, but there is no such thing as
missing a mail or getting out a publica-
tion late. In Germany magazines and
papers are subscribed for through the
postmasters from day to day, who order
in the same way as newsdealers in this

country.

* * *

The schedule was completed and the
keen, crisp air of Berlin made me sigh
for e'en more sights to see. Now that
I had had a glimpse of the three great
rulers of the world, Emperor William,
King Edward and President Roosevelt,
and had visited the three great world
capitals in three weeks, thoughts of the
return ticket came upon me, and — well,
it seemed so good to hear melodious,
nasal ' American twang again, and to
dream of real "Johnny" cake and ice
water. No — not exactly homesick — but
just a desire to be moving in that direc-
tion. Ticket stamped and sealed in my
pocket — well, I had pleasant dreams.

JUST A SNUG CORNER AND THE SPACIOUS MUSIC ROOM
FURNISHED IN SALMON PINK BROCADE

ONCE more homeward bound, toward
the setting sun and on to the witchery
of our own Washington !

At six o'clock in the morning in Berlin
it was interesting to watch the workmen
going to their day's toil, but more im-
portant than all else to me was the fact
that the Hamburg-American train was
to leave at 6:20. I scrambled on board
and on we swept toward Harburg, where
we saw the German emperor and his im-
perial special train, which was strikingly
painted royal blue. Wilhelm is called the
" traveling emperor" and like President
Roosevelt, is at home on a special train.
He was then en route to Keil, where a
disaster had occurred to one of the tor-
pedo boats. Coming into quaint Cux-
haven we saw the good ship Amerika and
what a welcome sight it was. As we
arrived the band played that same Prus-
sian martial air, as when we left home.
That was an anxious night for the captain
on the North Sea, for that great body of
water is full of shoals, and in the run of
281 miles the narrow channel of less than
five miles off the English coast must not
be miscalculated.

* * *

The towering, frowning coast brought
to mind that thrilling scene in King
Lear, where the white cliffs of Dover are
made so vividly real. Here the first stop
was made and the passengers from Lon-
don arrived on the pier in a special train.

Another landing at Cherbourg was made
that night, and strange to say we were
in that vicinity at the time the dreadful
wreck at St. Malo occurred, news of
which we received by wireless tele-
graph. One of the passengers who came
aboard at Cherbourg, said he never saw
a more beautiful sight than the great
ship Amerika standing like some argus-
eyed giant of the deep, all brilliantly lit
up from stem to stern. The band seemed
to keep time to the waves, as the tender

swayed with the regular motion. It
was here that we parted company with
Mr. Barnbrock and his genial company
of Hamburg agents, who had come
aboard to become personally acquainted
with the beauties of the new ship so that
they might speak more positively to their
patrons concerning the peerless vessel.

* * *

No sooner were we fairly out on the
ocean than it was decided to publish a
newspaper, the Atlantic Daily News, in
which the wireless messages were to be
printed every day on board. It was to be
printed both in English and German.
Never can I forget that first message re-
ceived by wireless. Everything seemed
to have been so abbreyiated as to be
difficult to grasp by the ordinary mind.
It concerned matters of which we had
little information, but Hermann Suter
secured a large atlas, and by diligently
looking up places referred to, we ob-
tained the correct spelling of the names
and the Marconigraph was translated
into a liberal and loquacious narrative.
The printers aboard were German and
were all right until they came to the Eng-
lish in my handwriting. But rapid pro-
gress was made despite such difficulties.
The splendid tenacity with which those
Germans held to the work, was indeed
an inspiration.

* * *

We had our desk in the room of the
chief steward, where the pigeon holes
were called "the hollow tree." Here
all contributions for the paper were
placed, and the sea poets began their lays.
As a specimen, the first poem received
was as follows:

There was a young man from New York
Who sipped up his soup with his fork,
But now he is wise, and always shies
When he hears the pop of a cork.

We were soon in the throes of editor-
ial work, and Samuel R. Merwin, author

A GLIMPSE OF THE LIBRARY IN ITS BRILLIANT SALMON PINK KROCADE

IN THE LAVENDER BROCADE WRITING ROOM

ON THE HOMEWARD WAY TO WASHINGTON

of "Calumet K," was pressed into the
service. There was much seeking for
quietude that we might write out the
brilliant things seething in our active
minds, but when working in our "office"
we were sometimes disturbed by heads
being poked in at the window. From this
arose the mystery of "The Boo - Boo
Girl." One day some young lady
put her head in at the window and
shouted "Boo," and vanished before we
could identify her. Of course, we tried
to trace her but Sherlock Holmes was

not aboard.

* * *

The little paper may not have carried
the weight of the Thunderer or have
scintilated with the wit of the New York
Sun, but it was gratifying to see how
eagerly it was looked for and appre-
ciated. Every day we went on the Sun
Deck among the life boats where the
Marconi messages were received. The
wires stretched from foremast to main-
mast and clear to the "stern mast," of
which I dare not risk the nautical name.
Here they forked out into three wires
and the messages came to the operating
room, where the operator told us the
sounds weie as faint as the tapping of
a pin upon a window pane. It was
amazing to realize the amount of busi-
ness done. Forty or fifty messages were
sent to passing boats and a like number
received, the range of sending being
about 150 miles, but the range of receiv-
ing was from the English shore at first
and afterward from the American shore
as we neared the other side. This is the
first time that messages have been re-
ceived every day from land. The Mar-
coni chart looks like a spider's web, the
lines crossing and recrossing, showing
the various locations of the ocean liners,
and when they will be in range with
each other.

* * • *

In the steward's room I was writing
a "local' concerning 'the pretty custom
of commemorating wedding and birthday

anniversaries with flowers — fresh from
the florists. A lady at my side reminded
me shyly that "tomorrow was our anni-
versary." We worked late that night
and in the morning I concluded, after a
cold salt water plunge, to remain in bed
deaf to the bugle blasts. In the midst
of my beauty nap the steward burst into
the room with a note.

"Come at once to the dining room —
don't stop to shave!"

I hastened forth, even forgetting my
brindle necktie, thinking something seri-
ous had occurred. There stood the stew-
ards grinning. Two chairs were be-
decked with oak leaves and acorns;
flowers were strewn upon the table. It
brought back vivid memories when I saw
in one of the bedecked chairs a blushing
bride of years ago. 'Before us was a
huge cake dated with gorgeous pink let-
ters wishing ''Many happy returns." The
fellow passengers smiled and stopped
to offer congratulations and lilies of the
valley, orchids and chrysanthemums
were showered upon us. I tried to look
as brave as a bridegroom, but there was
the consciousness that even that brindle
calcium necktie might have helped me

out.

* * *

It was on the bridge with Captain
Sauerman that I comprehended the real
majesty of the "Queen of the Seas." His
quarters on the Sun Deck are finished
in light oak with inlaid work. Stepping
out of his cabin, we entered the navigat-
ing room, where we looked upon the
charts of the great deep, on which were
shown all the derelicts and dangers; the
sailing routes of the various vessels from
September to January are shown, where
the northern route is taken and a dis-
tance of 200 miles is maintained between
vessels going east and vessels going west.
We were at that time just at the point
where the ships cross. In the Summer
time a lower and more southern route
is taken to avoid the icebergs. It was
really marvelous to note how from that

—"HERE is WHERE WE LOOKED UPON 'THE BIRDS

THE SMOKING ROOM IS IN SOLID OAK, OF ROUGHLY FASHIONED SIXTEENTH CENTURY TYPE; A REPLICA

OF AN OLD IRISH INN

ON THE HOMEWARD WAY TO WASHINGTON

room this sturdy young German captain
controlled the fate of the great vessel
and its 4,000 lives. Inside a booth
he could put his ear to the 'phone and
hear the swishing of the waves on the
bottom of the boat, and on the approach
to" a light ship in dense fog he could
locate it by the tinkle of the bell under
the light ship long before it was visible,
by the Maconi wireless submarine
telephone. Speaking through telephone
trumpets no wind or weather can interfere
with the issuing of orders from the cap-
tain's quarters to any part of the ship.
Captain Sauerman is a man of wide
experience, having served eleven years
on a sailing vessel, but something much
more than even a knowledge of naviga-
tion is needed to command such a ship as
the Amerika. He must needs be con-
versant with every detail of construction,
and Captain Sauerman was at the yards
in Belfast the greater part of the time
that the great leviathan was being built.
* * *

Yes, I stood on the bridge at night, the
darkness seemed like the "black dark-
ness" of Egypt, but as the eyes became
accustomed to it, the man in the crow's
nest and the man forward could be dis-
cerned. The ship's bell seemed to ring
out with unusual clearness, chiming with
the whistling of the wind against the
canvas and through the rigging, and the
roar of the surging sea far below. The
signal lights at the mast head twinkled
across the waste of waters, but it seemed
as though we were plunging into the
unknown and must go on forever. In
foggy weather the horn sounded ten
seconds each minute, automatically.
The silent steersman with his single
light, throwing its rays on the compass,
seemed like the arbiter of our fate.

A peep into the engine room and a
glance down a depth of eighty feet show
those massive cylinders with the four
pistons going up and down, reminding
one of hogsheads with live bungholes.

A glance at the electrical equipment
demonstrated why the lights were so daz-
zlingly bright, and not an imperfect one
on board. Then I looked into the firing
hole to see the great boilers and the fire-
men in the glow of the furnaces heav-
ing coal up onto the grates.
* * *

. Kubelik was aboard and the residents
on the Roosevelt Deck were mightily
entertained by his rehearsals on his prac-
tice violin, his"Strad" being put away in
a sealed case to escape the damp of the
ocean. Nothing would do but he must
give us a concert, and always gracious,
he very kindly consented to do so
with the assistance of Miss Gardner-Eyre.
It was the opening of his "Amerika"
season and the audience resembled a
fashionable Symphony assemblage.

KUBEI.IK, THE VIOLIN KING

It is customary on the last night out
to have a "captain's dinner," and a
brilliantly bedecked throng gathered
around the festive board on the Amerika,

ON THE HOMEWARD WAY TO WASHINGTON

on the final evening of the return voyage.
After the poultry course, the toast of the
evening was presented by one whose
name it is not necessary to mention.
Then came a surprise. While the speech
was in progress I noticed that the stew-
ards disappeared, but thought they
might have seized the opportunity to
escape the flood of eloquence, when,
suddenly, the lights were all lowered, we
suspected that something unusual was
in preparation and in a few minutes
a procession appeared carrying little
Houses in which were candles, while
other stewards carried Japanese lanterns.
It was the ice cream course in all
sorts of fantastic shapes. In the
darkened salon it all made up a most
striking tableau. In the rear of the line
were a number of grotesque characters,
including the tall man with the electric
nose. Every time he made an effort to
blow his nose the light burst forth. It

ulsters all the way across. The ladies
traveling wraps were exchanged for gar-
ments of fur and silk with Parisian
"creations" on their heads, until they
seemed like butterflies emerging from
the crysalis state. Soon we were in sight
of the Hook, sentinel of the Jersey
coast, reaching out like a huge hand to
bring us into port. Then came the quar-
antine ship with a yellow flag; then the
United States mail ship was alongside
and we shot the mail out upon its deck.
After that the custom house officers hailed
us and with them the time of "declara-
tion" came for the young people who had
sat about in the sheltered nooks and
corners. They insisted that they had
already made declarations, and now it
occurred to them that a diamond ring will
pass the custom officers — if it is worn —
not otherwise. We came up the harbor
to "little old New York" that looked so
good to' us. The passengers stood by

was a delightful occasion and the words" the rail and gazed at the skyscrapers and

"au revoir" flashed out in the center of
the room when friends touched glasses
and pledged a health to the dear ones at

home.

* * *

We were beginning to feel as though we
could enjoy living on board ship forever
when, lo! the twin flash lights of Nan-
tucket began alternately winking at us,
giving us a welcome greeting through the
night. Then came the first glimpse of
Plre Island. The next morning the
people began to doff their steamer garb
and don their "shore clothes," so
that we could hardly recognize the good
fellows whom we had known in caps and

anxiously waited for news of the folks at

home.

* * *

We neared the wharf, the band play-
ing and the flowers and flags were con-
spicuous. Passengers hung over the
rails, the battalion of rope-tipped tugs
lined up at the stern. Slowly we came to
the pier ; a brother's fog horn voice hailed
from the dock. I don't know when I
ever heard anything that sounded so
melodious to me, for I recognized — not
the words — but caught in the inflection
of the greeting and the expression on the
face, the good news:

"All's well— and welcome home!"

VIEW OF CORNING FROM HILL
Photos by Hewitt, Corning, N. Y.

CORNING, THE "CRYSTAL CITY

By John Furman Rolfe

TRAVELING east or west on the Erie
or the Lackawanna railroads, one
passes through a strip in southern New
York that is in truth "God's country."
And situated in the heart of this broad
and fertile valley of the Chemung, where
are exposed all the beauties of lavish
nature, is Corning, termed "The Crystal
City" on account of the prominence of
its glass industries. Not more than two
generations ago the town nestled at the
foot of a noble hill deriving its nourish-
ment from the bosom of the Chemung,
then a thoroughfare wide and deep
which passed along twenty-five millions
of feet of dressed lumber to the qanal
every year. Today the city has invaded
the wooded hill, stately and costly piles
of brick and stone identify it as a beau-
tiful residence section, huge dykes have
reclaimed the broad lands once caressed
by spring floods, and with ample room
to expand, Corning is rapidly growing
in all possible directions under the in-

fluence of big mills and factories that
give lucrative employment to hundreds
of workmen daily.

Free from labor troubles, located
within forty miles from the rich Penn-
slyvania field of bituminous coal, the
only mines existing near the line of
the Empire state; within fifty miles of
the famous Potter County Pennsylvania
woods and oil fields; possessed of
natural gas service ample enough for
all use and the cheapest fuel on record ;
and intersected by three great railroads,
the New York Central, the Delaware,
Lackawanna & Western and the Erie,
Corning offers to the manufacturer seek-
ing a location an ideal site. With these
roads entering the city from different
directions and uniting in immense yards
in the heart of the city one outlying dis-
trict is as good as another for trackage
facilities and the interchange of freight
is greatly facilitated. Corning is located
on the main lines of the Erie and Lacka-

CORNING, "THE CRYSTAL CITY"

TWO MODERN CHURCHE

wanna and is the principal city and divi-
sion headquarters of the Pennslyvania
division of the New York Central, the
largest division on the great Central sys-
tem. It is also the end of the Rochester
division of the Erie railroad, the divi-
sion terminal of the projected Corning,
Lake Keuka and Ontario road and of
the Corning-Waverly electric road soon

to be constructed, and already con= — long to this district have produced 28,000
nected by trolley with its nearest sub- cases of extra fine binders in a single
urb, Painted Post, two miles distant, it
affords

pressors, car journal boxes, railway
specialties, furnaces, steel wheel-
barrows, agricultural implements,
brick, terra cotta and tile work of all
descriptions, cement building blocks,
bicycle coaster brakes, cutlery, glass cut-
ters' supplies, gum and confectionery,
ornamental iron work, papier mache,
sashes, doors and blinds, sheet metal
work, art glassware, etc.

Corning is the metropolis of the South-
ern Tier. Its population increased over
thirty per cent, from 1890 to 1900 and
over twenty-two per cent, from 1900 to
1905, when, according to the state cen-
sus recently completed, it showed a city
population of 13,525 and with its imme-
diate suburbs, connected by trolley, over
16,000. It is the natural center of trade
for a population of over 75,000 people.

Situated in the heart of the famous
Big Flats tobacco region, this industry
is, with the farmers in the summer, and
city workers in the winter, a most im-
portant one. The four counties, Steuben
and Chemung in New York and Tioga
and Potter in Pennsylvania, which be-

transportation facilities and
freight rates second to none in the
East. New York City is 283 miles
away, Buffalo 129, and Chicago 707.
Freight goes to New York from Corn-
ing in thirteen hours, Buffalo in seven
hours and Chicago in sixty-eight hours,
while the express service is unrivalled.
Goods ordered in New York in the after-
noon are delivered early the following
morning.

While industrially Corning owes its
first sustained growth to the institution
of the Corning Glass Works, now the
largest factory of its kind in the world,
and the allied industry, that of glass cut-
ting and engraving, the thirteen factories
of which turn out the rarest and most
beautiful work of this class, making the
name Corning famous, there are at the
present time other large industries of so
varied a nature that depression of busi-
ness in any one field does not make itself
so manifest that the town at large suffers
to any great extent. Approximately
2,000 people are afforded employment in
the glass industries. Employes in this
line of work are intelligent and highly
paid and rank with the best skilled
labor. Other large employers of
labor are railroad car shops, iron
founders and manufacturers of air corn-

season. So great was the demand the
present year that practically every crop
was sold before it was housed at prices
averaging eleven and one-half cents. As
all above six cents is regarded as profit
by the farmers, it will be seen that the
business, taken in connection with the
regular farming, affords the farmer more
than a living chance. Large tobacco
warehouses are located in Corning and
hundreds of thousands of dollars worth
of the weed are annually handled here.
The city is located 935 feet above the
sea and is one of the healthiest localities
the state. It is a city of churches,

THE CITY CLUB BUILDING

CORNING, "THE CRYSTAL CITY"

societies and homes. Public building
operations have been conducted on a
large scale for the past five years and the
close of 1905 sees the completion during
the year of over 200 dwelling houses, six
out of ten of which were erected for
occupancy by the owners. New streets
are being opened and the city govern-
ment, headed by a non-partisan mayor
and made up of an able council and
a most efficient board of public works,
representing the brains and wealth of
the city, make for excellent pavements,
and public improvements along the most
practical lines.

The water works system is owned by
the people and the supply is abundant
and of fine quality. The fire department
is both paid and volunteer, equipped in
the most up-to-date manner and with two
stations. The police force is vigilant
and efficient. The city has fine banking
facilities, the private institution of Q.
VV. Wellington & Company and the First
National of which James A. Drake is
president. It has a building and loan
association known all over the United

States as a model for its system and ex-
cellent management. It has an un-
equalled school system, two business
schools and a conservatory of music with
over 200 students. It has a free public
library and a beautiful and modernly
equipped hospital, just completed.

Corning Club and the Golf Club afford
to the business men pleasant relief from
daily cares. The cusine of the Corning
Club is famous for its original dishes and
its membership is representative of the
professional and business world. Coin-
ing has few idle coupon clippers. While
it is home to a large number of men of
wealth who have erected beautiful man-
sions on the hill, each morning sees the
valley below filled with smoke from the
myriad industries that represent their
capital.

The Masons, Odd Fellows, Knights of
Columbus and volunteer firemen each
have luxuriously appointed club rooms,
and the Young Men's Christian Asso-
ciation, installed in its own building,
offers all the usual inducements to young
men. Corning has a fine opera house

EXTENSIVE RAILROAD YARD

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VOLUME XXIII.

FEBRUARY, 1906

NUMBER FIVE

Anairo ar

By Joe Mitckell Ckopple

A MERRY month it has been in

ington. "If all the world loves a
lover," national interest at this time in-
cludes the lass and the lover. Many
important measures are pending before
congress for the month and vital ques-
tions are being discussed, but public
attention has been focussed on the
marriage of Miss Alice Roosevelt, to
occur at the White House on February
17. Following the Taft campaign in the
Philippines and the date of Saint Valen-
tine's conquest, the coming nuptials have
simply submerged all other questions of
the hour.

This is more than mere idle curiosity
concerning the personality of the presi-
dent's daughter. The White House
is a domicile that always holds public
interest. Within these walls have
gathered lights and shadows of the large
national home interest. Here the simple
epochs of life are celebrated with a feel-
ing of a federal family interest; christen-
ings and marriages and the dark messen-
ger of death have gathered about the ex-
ecutive hearthstone.

The first marriage ever solemnized

here was during the administration of
President Monroe, when Miss Todd, a
relative of Mrs. Monroe, was married in
the romantic fashion of the stately colon-
ial days of Virginia. The East Room
was used for the nuptials of Elizabeth
Tyler, (January 31, 1842,) then nineteen
and a belle; the bride left the White
House for a simple Virginian home.

President Tyler was married in the
White House, choosing as his second
wife Miss Julia Gardner of New York.
John Adams, Junior, was wedded during
the time of his father's administration,
and it is reported that President Adams
— the grave, the stately and sedate —
rattled his heels at the wedding in a gay
Virginia reel.

Two nieces of General Jackson had
the honor of being married at the White
House, but the event which will be re-
membered by Americans yet living was
the wedding of Nellie Grant, the daugh-
ter who was the delight of her father's
heart, to Captain Algernon Charles
Frederick Sartoris. A niece of Presi-
dent Hayes also became a bride in the

456

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

East Room. The bells of Washington
pealed forth at the time Grover Cleve-
land was married to Miss Frances Fol-
som, and now to this historic list is
added the marriage of Miss Alice Lee
Roosevelt to Congressman Nicholas
Longworth of Ohio. You see Ohio will
still insist on having a representative in
the presidential family. The public feels
an interest in this event because the
bride is an American girl who has
budded into womanhood under the affec-
tionate gaze of the public eye. Firm
and self-reliant, she has proved herself
worthy to be the daughter of one who
is a high type of American manhood;
the history of the Roosevelt administra-
tion will have no brighter pages than
those which chronicle the doings of the
piquant, vivacious daughter of the White
House, who passes from its portals as
a February bride.

Secretary Taft is now known as a fairy
Prince Cupid, because he is supposed
to have a peculiar talent for bringing
young people together, as witnessed in
the fact that two engagements have
resulted from the trip recently conducted
by him. It seems that Miss Roosevelt
is not the only lady who felt the in-
fluence of the southern climate and
moonlight nights. The engagement of
her friend, Miss Critten of New York,
is also announced, and she will be
married to Congressman Swager Sher-
ley, of Louisville, Kentucky, early in
the Spring of the new year. Mr. Sher-
ley has made his mark as a cool, cour-
teous debater and thoroughly well read
man and is now entering on his second
term in congress.
. J*

Mr. Longworth has introduced
a bill which, if enacted into law, will
be far-reaching in its effect; it appro-
priates $5,000,000 for the purchase of
suitable homes for diplomatic represen-
tatives of Uncle Sam in other parts of

the world. This is a measure that espec-
ially appeals to Americans who travel,
— the need proposed to be met in this
measure. It may require some time to
pass it, but it will have to come, and
meantime the commercial and industrial
interests of the country, as well as the
dignity of the nation, are suffering. In
political circles this measure is facetiously
spoken of as "Nick Longworth' s 'Home
Bill,'" for it is believed that the young
politician has developed an interest in
the domestic arts and " home-building"
that is very keen.

THE visit of the Taft party to the
Philippines this Summer accom-
plished more than the mere change of
sentiment on the part of some members.
It has been the means of substituting facts
for hearsay. Chairman Cooper of the
insular affairs committee has decided
that the Filipinos will turn their atten-
tion more to the growing of hemp rather
than of tobacco and sugar and that here-
after hemp will be their chief export to
the United States market. Mr. Cooper
was at one time a teacher, and was
greatly impressed with the work accom-
plished by the American schools in the
island; he insists that the necessity for
manual training and agricultural instruc-
tion is of preeminent importance. He
is advocating the setting aside of forty
per cent, of the receipts of all land sales
in the islands for primary schools and
twenty per cent, for higher schools.

The usual experience of not knowing
a country, no matter how much one
reads, until it is actually visited, has
shown that the nation has made a good
investment in having the congressmen
— who, by the way, paid their own ex-
penses— investigate personally, at first
hand, the propositions on which they are
to act. If Daniel Webster had visited
Oregon before he made his famous har-
angue against "the wild wastes of the
West," he would have escaped making

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

457

JUSTICES PECKHAM AND WHITE

Photograph by Clinedinst

a grave blunder. As American citi-
zens become travel-wise it is essential
that their law-makers shall at least be
equally well informed. The fabric of
legislation built on theoretical hypothe-
sis is always weak in the final test.

THE initial official reception at the
White House was the most brilliant
function which has taken place within
recent years. Nearly everyone who
received the neatly engraved card, with

the individual name engrossed upon it,
attended. These gatherings are now so
thoroughly systematized that there is
little or no transference of cards, as in
former years. After the visitor has suc-
cessfully run the gauntlet of the long
cloak room, he is ushered at once into
a scene which is of lively interest.
The long double file of people move
slowly up the stairs through the main
corridors into the state dining-room,
to the Blue Room, where Mrs. Roos-
evelt and the president and his

458

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

SIR CHENTUNG LIANG-CHENG, CHINESE MINISTER, AND ONE OF HIS AIDES

Photograph copyright 19O5 by Clinedinst

cabinet officers receive. A few guests
lingered in the Red Room adjoin-
ing, where Miss Roosevelt and her
fiance were the center of a throng of
admirers.

It might be interesting to the women
readers of the National to know
just what Miss Alice wore that
night, but I am blessed if I can tell,
so I must refer you to the society papers
— but I do know that she was happy and
handsome. Out of this room I passed
to the East Room, where the conversa-
tion strikes all keys and all tempos, and
where one sees the faces familiar in
public life.

In one corner of this room is a hand-
some Steinway grand piano which was in
the New York building at the St. Louis

Exposition, but had no chance that night.

Very few of the guests were seated,
and the reception had the regulation
appearance of a church social — without
the oysters. There were greetings, meet-
ings and hand-shakings, some private
story-telling and perhaps a furtive glance
now and then at the different gowns, with
an occasional hop and skip over the
long trains. At ten o'clock the presi-
dent and party march out through the
East Room and down through the corri-
dor to the private living-rooms, and the
reception is at an end. Taps are
sounded.

There was a piquancy, a sparkle about
the presidential reception this year
that was refreshing, and an absence of
mere perfunctory ceremony. We passed

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

459

out into the starry night, alive with the
rumble of carriages waiting to carry away
the superlative dignitaries; but the street
cars democratically transported most of
the guests from the function.

Now the long routine of dinners
begins, and night after night familiar
faces are met at the festive board.
One of the staid justices was heard to
remark that it was a task far above the
research in leather-covered law books for
him to keep up a stock of new stories for
table gossip, and that he had gone back
in despair to Aesop's Fables, from which
he draws freely, giving a local coloring
and supplying copious remarks. Prop-
erly labelled, he says he finds they sound
as fresh as some of Senator Depew's
latest. The Gridiron Club is well under

tivities which causes them to stand un-
rivalled. The guests include many promi-
nent public men, not overlooking the
president himself, who seems to enjoy
the jolly, rollicking tone about as well
as anyone. The dinners are radiant
with wit and humor, and there is
"something doing" from oysters to
coffee, the eating being more or less
incidental.

AT the New Willard the other evening,
I had an entertaining chat with a
man fresh from the diamond fields of
the De Beers Company in South Africa.
He declared that this had been the
greatest diamond year ever known in
the United States, and that nearly
sixty-five per cent, of their product
was sold to American buyers. The dia-
mond mines in Brazil, he said, have

way with its campaign of dinners. There — languished in recent years, and the few
is a sparkle and "go" about these fes- diamonds found in California and the

SENOR FELIPE PARDO, MINISTER OF

PERU TO THE UNITED STATES
Photograph by Noel News Servio*

SENORA TERESA BARREDA DE PARDO,

BRIDE OF THE MINISTER FROM PERU
Photograph by Noel News Service

460

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

Ural mountains and in India were in all
less than fifteen per cent, of -the total
output of the world. It was rather start-
ling to learn from him — a diamond ex-
pert— that diamonds are not the most
precious stones, but are in the greatest
demand not only for their beauty but

SENATOR McENERY, LOUISIANA

Photograph by Clinedinst

on account of their hardness and endur-
ing qualities. While we were sitting
there watching the senators, representa-
tives and visitors lounging about smok-

ing and chatting in the lobby, he ven-
tured the prediction that there was
not a man in the room who was not
wearing a diamond of some kind. "And
yet," said he, "we speak slightingly of
the vanity of women." In order to
verify his prediction, we strolled around,
and I was amazed to find that there
really was not a man there who was not
wearing a diamond, either in the form
of studs, ring or sleeve links — to say
nothing of the "searchlights" radiating
from the clerks at the desks. I should'
not like to vouch for it that they were
all De Beers diamonds, or of the first
water, but in future I am quite prepared
to believe that there are more individuals
in America possessing or claiming to
possess diamonds than in any other
country. In a commonwealth the jewel
wealth is not so likely to concentrate in
the crowns of kings and nobles. It is
a very modest American who does not
feel that some day or other he will be
able to wear diamonds— the real thing.

THE second session of the fifty-ninth
congress is well under way. Ninety-
three new members are on the pay-roll.
Payments usually are made on the fourth
of the month and the members draw
checks on the sergeant-at-arms. No
sooner have they assumed their . seats
than they are compelled to keep an eye
on the election which takes place next
Fall. It requires a year or more before
the voice of the people as expressed in
congressional elections can be heard in
Washington.

A glimpse at the calendar on the house
side shows that the statehood bill was
one of the first on the list. Then there
is the Philippine tariff, on which the
committee has been wrestling with the
problems of sugar and tobacco; and
the rate bill, v^th Messrs. Esch and
Townsend hard at it, trying to compress
congressional will in a measure which
may withstand attack and be safely
granted with constitutional block-signals.

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

461

REPRESENTATIVE NICHOLAS LONGWORTH
OF CINCINNATI, WHO HAS WON THE
HAND OF MISS ALICE LEE ROOSEVELT

Mr. Longworth was born in Cincinnati November 5, 1869;
he is a graduate of Harvard University and Cincinnati Law
School, 1894 ; has been a member of the Cincinnati school
board and of both houses of the Ohio legislature; was elected
to the fifty-eighth congress and reelected to the fifty-ninth.
Photograph by Clinedinst

Congressman McCleary on ways and
means, with house bill number 9,752,
brings forward an act to give the secre-
tary of the treasury the same power to
retaliate for any discriminations made
against the United States that foreign
governments exercise upon us, at least to
the extent of twenty-five per cent. This
bill gives the power to make needful
regulations for those emergencies which
in other countries are met by the royal

will. The bill will checkmate the im-
pulsive practice of other countries by
providing for retaliation that compels
the real spirit of reciprocity — "quid pro
quo" — so to speak.

Of course there will be a deficiency
bill. What would the life of a congress
be without a deficiency! This is a fea-
ture of legislation with which I am
always in sympathy. I begin to medi-
tate on deficiency bills about the time I

462

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

am ready to return to Boston and find
myself fairly short of fare. The present
deficiency estimate is of healthy propor-
tions, but small compared with previous
years; it will necessitate an urgent rush
of appropriations at the end of the
session. The old method of rushing
through deficiency appropriations left
the money entirely in the hands of heads
of departments, instead of being under
the direct orders of congress, but the
fifty-ninth congress is zealous in protect-
ing all of its rights and privileges im-
plied in the constitution, and the appro-
priation committee, is already provided
with good-sized hammers to knock.

THE opening session of the fifty-ninth
congress was something like a pre-
liminary faculty reception — 'to get ac-
quainted. The well seasoned leaders
and members put down the lid when
they found that the effervescence of
younger men was certain to result in
a flood of oratory. Fred W. Landis
made a striking speech, but some of
the older members shook their heads
when he lingered around some of the
sensational headline phrases; like his
brother, C. W. Landis, Fred Landis has
won his spurs as a congressional orator.
F. J. Garrett of Tennessee has started
well on his career, and promises to go
to the front as one of the energetic
young southern members.

A keen parliamentarian in the house
is Phillip P. Campbell of Pittsburg, Kan-
sas. There is a touch of reminiscent
history in finding the name of J. Sloan
Fassett of New York on the roll-call.
Still young in looks, he is in reality an
"old stager" of the Empire state. Well
read and a strong man, he comes to the
arena alert for action.

THERE is no Private John Allen, with

ready anecdote, but Joseph Fordney

of Saginaw, Michigan, has a strong incli-

nation in that direction, and after he
had related several stories in the cloak
room he was gravely promised a career
as professional story-relater — and a red
necktie — if he would only keep on as he
had begun and not repeat his stories
more than twice at the same session.

One meets an old friend going to con-
gress now and then. Everis A. Hayes
of California, long years ago, was an
acquaintance whom it was a delight to
greet. In those early days he was a
modest mining man in control of the
Germania mine on the Gogebic Range;
then, as now, the same democratic,
sterling citizen, who, although a million-
aire, knows the real value of labor and
pluck. One of the members from Chi-
cago is Martin B. Madden, who under-
takes his work in the vigorous and de-
cisive manner in which he is wont to
handle a large contract. His political
reputation was made in the Chicago city
council, which he dominated for several
years.

The senate is being recruited from the
house and there still are other members
who expect to walk across through the
corridors at the Capitol and take seats
in the senate.

rvURING the afternoon lull at the ex-
ecutive office I met General Robert
A. Maxwell, who was fourth assistant
postmaster - general under President
Cleveland. This wholesome - looking
gentleman was the "axe-man" of the
Cleveland administration. His blue
eyes sparkled as he told of " his
boys," and well he may be proud
of them, for among them are num-
bered Hon. George B. Cortelyou, post-
master-general ; Mr. Barnes, assistant
secretary to the president; Mr. Merritt
Chance, chief clerk in the postoffice de-
partment, and Mr. Elmer E. Paine, rep-
resenting the Associated Press. Each
of these gentlemen expressed toward the
ex-assistant postmaster-general an appre-

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

463

SENATOR CLARK, THE MONTANA COPPER CROESUS, BUYS A

MORNING PAPER

Photograph by Clinedinst

ciation it was delightful to witness, found in General Maxwell a friend as

They had come to him as strangers in well as chief.

the glare of Washington life, but they "They were good boys, and I knew

464

THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

they had the stuff in them," said the
general. "From the very start I was
fortunate in having about me the ma-
terial of which men are made, and I
have proved my judgment of them was
right, despite their politics and the
chjfnge in the administrations. There
naffer were hours too long if there was
anything to do, and there never was
a courtesy too slight for them to extend. "

The tribute paid this veteran of Cleve-
land days— now living a peaceful and
contented life in Batavia — by Mr. Elmer
Paine, was another illustration of how
much good is done by helping along
younger men and aiding them to suc-
ceed by kindly encouragement. It
means a great deal to develop all the
latent and hidden strength of the re-
cruits.

There was a hearty greeting between
General Maxwell and his boys, and it
was a refreshing change from the for-
mality of official calls, for the general
has come to Washington to "see his

boys."

Mr. Paine represented an Ohio news-
paper at the time Senator Hanna first
came to Washington, and had his close
confidence. During the busy days of
'98 he found it difficult to obtain an
audience concerning important state
matters. Finally he reached Senator
Hanna, and he still possesses a card
which reads as follows:

" The bearer of this is Mr. Elmer
E. Paine, and he is to see me at any
time." M. A. HANNA.

Even this perpetual passport had a limit.
At one time an important matter came
up and Mr. Paine went directly to the
house on Lafayette Square. He pre-
sented the card and gained admittance
to the waiting-room. It carried him
still farther: first to the office and then
to the inner office. Finally it was ex-
plained to him that the senator was tak-
ing a bath. Mr. Paine replied that his

business was of vital importance, and
the card was sent direct to the bathroom.
Very soon the senator emerged, attired
hastily in his bathrobe, which might
well have suggested the flowing togas of
the legislators of ancient Rome. This
was the occasion of one of the most im-
portant interviews ever made public,
one that was vital in changing the route
of the Isthmian Canal from Nicaragua to
Panama.

Those who remember something of
the life of Senator Hanna will recall
how he was deluged with callers and
letters and will understand how much
this card must have meant to Mr. Paine.

A SSISTANT Secretary of the Navy
Truman H. Newberry is now in-
stalled in the office once occupied by
President Roosevelt. Mr. Newberry
is a genial gentleman who hails from
Detroit, and for many years has been
active in the naval reserve service on the
Great Lakes. It is not surprising that
many of the most earnest supporters of
naval growth have come from the cities
which border on the lakes or the sea-
coast.

Mr. Newberry is a man of wealth and
has taken up this work with the appre-
ciation and enthusiasm of one who loves
his task. He is making rapid progress
in following out the plans which he has
initiated for popularizing naval develop-
ment and a policy of "preparedness."

The naval appropriation bill is trem-
bling in the balance for fear Uncle Joe
Cannon's pruning-knife will come along
and cut it down $20,000,000 or so, to
make it an even $100,000,000. When it
is realized that $60,000 worth of gun-
powder is required by a single ship for
naval practice for one year, it can be
understood how much money is "blown
in," or blown up, to insure the
skill of the men behind the guns,
that has given the American navy
the prestige which it now enjoys.

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

465

SENATOR FRANCIS GRIFFITH NEWLANDS OF NEVADA, AT HIS EASE

Admiral Dewey, in a recent Chicago middle West in the navy and his tribute
speech, stimulated the interest of the to the inland state recruits was a revela-

466

THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

REAR-ADMIRAL BAIRD

tion. The admiral has a delightful way
of pointing straight at a fact — he does
not desire to beat around the bush. Pos-
sibly his opinion of "hazing" at Anna-
polis may have some effect in changing
customs there. The admiral pronounces
this practice to be "downright coward-
ice." Just like the blunt old salt.

In Berlin I heard a tribute paid to
Admiral Dewey by an old Annapolis
comrade, Consul-General Thackera. Mr.
Thackara insisted that it was plain to see
in the early days that something great
was in store for the modest and genial

George. Another of Admiral Dewey' s
comrades is Rear-Admiral G. W. Baird.
Rear-Admiral Baird was born in Wash-
ington and is a son of the man who built
the first passenger locomotive that ever
turned a wheel on the American conti-
nent. He entered the navy in 1862,
and served on the famous old Missis-
sippi, Admiral Dewey being then execu-
tive officer. Nineteen years of active
service at sea did not prevent him from
making various inventions, such as the
vibrative stearing gear, the motograph
and other machines which bear his
name.

He installed the first electric lighting
plant ever used on board a government
ship of any nation. The rear-admiral
was once superintending engineer for
the United States fish commission. It
is interesting to sit for half an hour in
his office and hear him relate some of
the stirring events- of his long years of
active service.

THE Oklahoma statehood delegation
was one hundred and fifty strong — a
typical body of western hustlers. No,
they did not bring bronchos; they were
there for business and remained ten
days. They were as enthusiastic as a
college football team. Like a team, they
must have a mascot to insure "luck,"
and this was nothing more nor less than
a razor-backed Ozark pig, acquired
without purchase and secured after a hot
chase in Missouri by the delegation.
Mr. Bewildered Pig was taken on board
the train, scrubbed and bedecked with
ribbons, served with a light collation in
the dining car, and now enjoys the dis-
tinction of bearing the name of "State-
hood." The motto of the delegation
from that time forth was included in
those four words which have had so
much to do in all history of achievement'
and the solution of difficult problems:

"Root Hog or Die."

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

467

The hog, of course, rooted. With this
slogan the Oklahoma delegation believe
they are to receive just and equitable
treatment as citizens of the United
States of America, and have a full five-
pointed star to add to the galaxy.

If favorable action is taken on
the statehood bill, there will have to be
more seats added to the senate chamber,
as there will then be four more stars to
shine in the field of blue. As it is, all
the seats are occupied, and many of the
republican members on the right have
to seek desk-room on the democratic
left. A visit to the United States senate
always presents a picture of interest;
looking from the gallery above into the
arena below, one sees the faces of the
men who have long served the nation.
It is not to be wondered at that senators
come to Washington with decided differ-
ences as to public policy, and eventually
are welded into a close circle of warm
friends. The senate seems to me to exer-
cise a judicial as well as legislative func-
tion, for whatever else may be said,
there is no way of stampeding the senate
with any wild impulse that may move
the people. Several times this delibera-
tive body has stood in the breach and
prevented the enactment of a law calling
for free coinage of silver. After the
measure had swept through the house,
there stood the senate like a bul-
wark.

The calm and conservative judgment of
history will show how many crises in
the development of the nation have been
successfully tided over by means of the
steadfast action of the senate, — saving
the house many a time from its own rash-
ness. Nearly all the actual legislation of
the senate is transacted in the committee
rooms, and the room most in the public
eye at present is that of the inter-
state commerce committee. The in-
formation collected by this committee
ought to serve as a very thorough
digest of facts, — free from the
coloring of prejudice or passion.

REPRESENTATIVE CHAMP CLARK
OF MISSOURI

Photograph by Clinedinst

lA/HAT is more charming than a chat
with those senators who have seen
years of service? Not only are they
in touch with affairs of today but they
have also a personal experience of bygone
times which has the quaint touch and
reminiscent glow. " Whenever I meet
Senator Proctor, there is always a droll
glint in his eye. The statesman from
Vermont has had a long and useful
career and is much endeared to the
dwellers in the Green Mountain state.
Today no one is looked upon as a
higher authority on Cuban affairs, with

468 THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

which he had so much to do in the
critical days of '98, and he is now re-
garded by Cubans as a foster-father.
His career reaches far back into the
stirring seventies — a long time in this
swift era; despite the many changes
that have occurred, no one is a more
keen observer of the flying events
of the day than Senator Proctor. He
keeps up a lively interest in the naval
department, of which he was at one time
secretary. The growth of the navy since
that time has furnished one of the ro-
mantic phases of our national history.
On Christinas eve a greeting was sent
by wireless relay from Washington to
Guantanamo, the naval station in Cuba,
and a reply received. In fact, every
naval officer in all parts of the world
received a Christmas greeting by tele-
graph from the naval department,

IF seeing the Capitol were a play in
three acts, the house would furnish
the first act, the supreme court the sec-
ond, and the final act would be in the
sedate senate. More stately than ever
it has been since Vice-President Fair-
banks took that historic bit of ivory be-
tween his thumb and first finger and
rapped on his desk for order, and he
insists on having it, too. There is an
air of dignity which is befitting a dis-
tinguished, deliberative, law-making
body. The routine business goes
through with the regularity of the
lines spoken in a play. There are
always the same answers and the same
responses, given with that particular in-
flection and formality peculiar to various
moments of the session, — and never is
there a cue lacking. These formalities
soon pass, as the more exciting proposi-
tions come up, and the senate prepares
for a tilt of words.

IT is William Alden Smith of Michigan
who has his ear close to the ground

awaiting a senatorial calling. He spent
the Summer in Europe, like many an-
other member of the house — utilized
vacation days in travel. The Congres-
sional Record this session ought to be
filled with interesting reminiscences of
"What I Saw This Summer," with full
reports from the Orient and the Occi-
dent. Mr. Smith talks entertainingly of
meeting Kaiser Wilhelm on Septem-
ber 2, 1905. The emperor expressed his
appreciation of the work of President
Roosevelt in reference to the treaty of
Portsmouth, and insisted that all credit
for this achievement was due to the'
president of the United States. The
emperor is keenly interested in things
American, and discussed in fluent Eng-
lish the prosperity of our republic. The
imperial presence seems to have been
very impressive to Mr. Smith, and all
throughout the German empire the popu-
larity of the emperor was the one fact
that especially attracted his attention.

THIS seems to be a season for engage-
ments and the introduction of brides
to Washington society. One of the
most charming and beautiful ladies
presented in Washington recently is the
bride of Senor Felipe Pardo, the new
Peruvian minister, who was married
November 5 and arrived on December
21 in Washington; Senor Pardo is a
brother of the president of Peru and
belongs to the "civil party." He is the
son of a former president, the late Don
Manuel Pardo, and was educated at the
Institute de Lima, which was founded
by his father. He possesses a B. A.
degree from the University of San Marco
at Lima. He took an active part in the
Peru-Chili war, and at the close of the
contest devoted himself to the cultivation
of a large sugar estate owned by his
family. He is a man of marked execu-
tive ability and has traveled extensively,
is regarded as an excellent judge of
horses and is interested in out-door

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

469

sports. It is understood that he desires
to Jurn some of our American capital
and energy into the development of the
remarkable natural resources of Peru.
His bride is the daughter of Don En-
rique Barreda, a capitalist of Lima. She
is about eighteen years of age, and even
in a land of beautiful women was re-
garded as a great beauty. She is already
a social favorite in Washington, and
Senor and Senora Pardo are regarded
as a decided addition to the society of
diplomatic circles.

CENATOR Hale of recently related
an incident in the cloak room of the
senate which indicates that he has not
experienced a change of heart in refer-
ence to the Philippine question. He
was at the White House on that eventful
night when the memorable message was
sent to Admiral Dewey which read:
"Proceed to Manila, and destroy the
Spanish fleet," — no further orders were
given or implied. The senator laments
that four words were not added, thus:
"Destroy the Spanish fleet, then return
to Hongkong.'' He declares the addi-
tion of these words to that despatch
would have saved the nation a great deal
of money and relieved it of the serious
problems which have since grown out of
the insular question. Senator Hale "is
of the same opinion still," as when he
took his place with Senator Hoar at that
critical time of protest against insular
expansion.

Senator Hale has been put forward as
the leader of the dominant group in the
senate, relieving Senator Aldrich of
Rhode Island. The old Pine Tree state
always has a high place in the councils
of congress — Elaine, Reed, Dingley
are recent examples of the masterful
quality of "State of Maine" men.
&

/"VNE of the most charming tributes I
have ever heard to friends of boy-
hood was paid by Senator Allison the
other evening, when he recalled his

REPRESENTATIVE JOSEPH BAB-
COCK OF WISCONSIN

Photograph by Clinedinst

youthful days in Ohio with the Stude-
baker boys. It was a stern struggle for
a livelihood in those times, and the
senator remarked that it was apparent
even in early boyhood that the Stude-
baker brothers would become a power
in anything they might undertake. Each
brother seemed to back up the other,
whether the occupation was gathering
walnuts, picking up old tin kettles or
working in the blacksmith shop.

"They were sturdy fellows," said the
senator, "but the wonderful success

470

achieved by them in after years in build-
ing up the great Studebaker establish-
ment at South Bend, Indiana, surpassed
even the wildest dream of those days."
The fundamental reason for the success
of this great institution may be stated in
one word — thoroughness. Even in the
early days Studebaker stood for that
word in all its meaning. When one of
the boys undertook a task he felt that
not only his own honor was involved, but

SPEAKER "JOE" CANNON AT
THIRTY-SIX

also that of his brothers and father and
mother, to whom they .were devotedly
attached. In after life they met some
great problems, but were equal to every
emergency, and the history of wagon-
making in America will not be com-
plete unless a prominent place is given
to the Studebaker establishment.

During the later years it *vas a great
pleasure for the senator to meet these
friends of early youth and look upon

what had been accomplished through the
sturdy self-reliance and perseverance of
the boys who never shirked a responsi-
bility and never betrayed a trust. Today
this great establishment is a monument
to the memory of the brothers who re-
mained to the end of their lives not only
brothers in name, but brothers in busi-
ness and in spirit and in the fulfillment
of their life mission, inspired by a
mother's love and confidence. The
visitor traversing the continent and
looking out from his car window on
this great wagon manufactory, will re-
member that from this center wagons
are sent to* all parts of the world. These
wagons have crossed the American plains
and trekked across the veldt of Africa.
Here are also manufactured automobiles
and the latest designs in phaetons and
other vehicles. Thousands of carriages
bear the name of Studebaker, synony-
mous with thorough workmanship,
whether it be the farmer's wagon or
my lady's brougham. The carriage in
which President Lincoln rode to his
inauguration was made by the Stude-
bakers and is still well preserved.

When Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote
his poem of "The Wonderful One-Hoss
Shay," possibly he had in mind the
quality of the manufacture put forth from
year to year and sent all over the world
by the brothers who took counsel with
Senator Allison, the Grand Old Man of
Iowa, as to the best way to make a "go-
cart" that would seem "really and truly"
a wagon, — the wheels went 'round

IT was a gloomy day in Washington
when Secretary Root came to his de-
cision in reference to the fate of the Isle
Pines; as one gentleman who had lived
there remarked: — "It will take some-
thing more than the repressive influence
of a state document to make Cubans out
of the Americans who feel that they have
occupied the island with the understand-
ing that it was not included as a part of
Cuba in the treaty of Paris."

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

•

TRUMAN H. NEWBERRY OF DETROIT, THE NEW
ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF THE NAVY

The question may yet be pretty
thoroughly discussed and agitated during
the present session of congress, for it is
difficult to quench the spirit of annexa-
tion when it has been permitted to
get aglow. This agitation has cost Mr.
Squiers his position as the United
States' minister to Cuba; and, if the
general gossip amounts to anything, this
is not the end of the talk about the Isle
of Pines and Cuba. The feeling seems
to be that Cuba will have to demonstrate
her rights in the premises, for the United
States has as yet utilized but two of the

four naval stations which were provided
for in the treaty. It is not altogether a
wild prediction to suggest that we may
soon see a naval station located on the
Isle of Pines, and the general feeling is
that this would be almost equivalent to
annexation, — in fact if not in name.
JH

COME people make a hobby of butter-
flies, but I thought I would devote
my attention for a while to presidential
bees. There are some in Washington.
In the state department there were indi-
cations of a Root buzzer; at the

472

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

treasury department there seems to be a
whole hive of the Shaw variety, while
there is a buzz in the senate chamber
which indicates that something is under
way in the shape of Fairbanks bees.
Then back again to the war department,
where, behind the frowning rampart of
cannons and crossed sabers, the Taft
species of bee is to be found. Alto-
gether it seems as though a very alert
apiary of presidential bees is collecting,
and the curious thing is that the most of
them are hiving right in the presidential
cabinet. It is quite apparent to even
a casual observer that the example of
the busy bee "that gathers honey all
the day, from every opening flower," is
not entirely overlooked.

Although the opening overture of the
presidential campaign of 1908 is still
afar off, yet there is a busy-ness and
and a buzziness about Washington which
indicates that there will be some good
presidential honey stored away before
the delegates are hived.

li/HILE the executive office may be
the great reservoir of important
news of the day from Washington, there
are few departments in which the
importance of the work of the news-
papermen is more felt — though they may
linger about the corridors waiting, like
Macawber,for "something to turn up" —
than in the treasury department and the
department of justice. There is not
always a heavy budget of news from
these centers, but when it does come it
is often of vital import. Every move in
the machinery of these great departments
is of importance to the business and in-
dustrial interests of the country. It was
remarked by a well-known business
man recently that the steadiness and
stability of the business world today
was largely due to the intelligent and
keen comprehension of American
commercial conditions at the
treasury department in Washington.

Over in the superseded brownstone
residence which has been transformed
into a department of justice, Attorney-
General Moody is spending busy days.
This is Uncle Sam's law office, and it
has not been necessary to hang out a
shingle — so to speak — to indicate where
the attorney-general resides. A simple
nag floats over the house, and in the
corner room, at a broad, flat desk, with
a dimple in his cheek and a wrinkle in
his brow, the attorney-general is deeply
engrossed in the great mass of evidence
which is pouring in upon him from all
directions. I was surprised to learn
that the attorney-general has failed to
put up the familiar sign current at New
England grocery stores, "No Trust
Here." This sign goes up bravely on
January i, but is lost and forgotten by
July. '

While the office may not have the
quaint picturesqueness of the old Law
Courts in London, where the wheels of
Great Britain's justice revolve, yet the
visitor cannot mount the steps and enter
the dark corridor without feeling that he
is in a place where, in the classic phrase
of the times, there is "something do-
ing"— or going to be done.

A feature in a visit to the Austrian
embassy was a pleasant chat with a
secretary who called attention to the fact
that the distinction between Washington
and the European capitals is the al-
most entire absence of precedent in
the first, and the absolute rule of pre-
cedent in the latter. The American
craves something new, something which
suggests change, if not innovation.
Even some of the old, prized customs
are gradually fading away and official
etiquette is becoming more and
more a matter of common sense
or individual impulse, rather than
a matter of form handed down to us
by tradition or official functionaries.

THE WORLD FOR CHRIST

MISS CRAWFORD TRACES THE REMARK-
ABLE GROWTH OF THE CHRISTIAN
ENDEAVOR UNION THROUGHOUT THE
WORLD, SINCE ITS BIRTH IN PORT-
LAND, MAINE, TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO

By Mary Caroline Crawford

CHARtESTOWN, MASSACHUSETTS

REVEREND F. E. CLARK, D. D., FOUNDER OF
THE CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR UNION

THE old adage about great oaks and
little acorns was never more interest-
ingly illustrated than in the case of the
Christian Endeavor movement, which
celebrates its first quarter - century of
existence early in February. From a
little band of young people, come to-
gether for tea and a talk afterward, at
the home of their pastor in Portland,
Maine, has sprung a strong but flexible

organization embracing more than three
millions of people and formed into more
than sixty-six thousand societies. Al-
most fifty thousand of these societies
are in the United States and Canada,
over ten thousand in Great Britain and
Ireland. But if it is impressive to think
that sixty thousand Christian Endeavor
societies now assemble weekly in Eng-
lish-speaking lands as a result of that
modest beginning in Portland, Maine,
it is even more interesting, it seems to
me, to note that in Africa there are 225
societies, in Brazil sixty-two, in Bul-
garia fifteen, in China 350, in Finland
nineteen, in Hungary thirteen, in Rus-
sia ten, in Sweden 148, in Hawaii fifty-
four and in Indian 567, which gladly
acknowledge similar origin.

There must have been something quite
uncommon in a little gathering that
could bear such fruits as that. Much more
than ordinary zeal for good works must
have inspired the pastor who could plan
a charter society of such promise and
potency! As a matter of fact both these
things are true. The soil was rich and
the sower of the seed a man of remark-
able endowment. Dr. Father Endeavor
Clark — as he is lovingly called through
a pun on his initials F. E. — possesses
such magnetism, such moral integrity

474

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

and such sweet spiritual insight as,
through all the world's history, has
marked the leaders of great onward
movements. The fact that he was the
pastor of the church sufficiently ac-
counts, perhaps, for the quality of that
initial band of Christian endeavorers.
In his own account of the first meeting
he says quite distinctly that the company-
which gathered in his parsonage parlor
February 2, 1881, consisted of average
young people, as bashful, as timid and
as retiring as any similar company prob-
ably. Not one among them was unpleas-
antly precocious. The whole room did
not contain a prig imbued with the smug
consciousness that he was "not as other
men." They were just such active,
energetic, fun-loving young people as
can be gathered in any church today.
Nor was there anything about them to
indicate that they, more readily than
any other youthful group, would sub-
scribe to the rather rigid document Dr.
Clark soon presented to them. In truth,
a considerable and painful silence fell
upon the meeting when the constitution,
with its serious provisions, was proposed.
But the pastor was not on this account
disposed to strike out those provisions.
From long and earnest thought he had
decided that what the church needed
was not more pink teas and oyster sup-
pers, with which to allure young people,
but a higher ideal for organized work,
a nobler conception of what Christian
manhood and Christian womanhood
should mean, a translation into twen-
tieth century life and activity of that
impulse by means of which Peter the
Hermit long ago organized the Cru-
sades— and so changed the geography
of Europe.

The document which the young min-
ister of the Williston church at Portland,
Maine, brought down from his study to
be signed that evening proposed that
a society be formed "to promote an
earnest Christian life among its mem-
bers, to increase their mutual acquaint-

ance and to make them more useful in
the service of God." In the constitu-
tion it was specified that there should be
a president," vice-president and secre-
tary; also a prayer meeting committee,
lookout committee, social committee,
missionary committee, Sunday school
committee and flower committee, each
consisting of five members. These com-
mittees were then, as now, to be impor-
tant agencies of service. But at the
beginning, as now, the pivotal clause
of the constitution was that which
stated, "It is expected that all the
active members of this society will be
present at every meeting unless detained
by some absolute necessity and tbat
each one will take some part, however
slight, in every meeting." This was
the clause which gave the young people
pause. These strict provisions were
more than they had bargained for. Yet
before they went home that frosty even-
ing they had one and all signed the
pledge, thus justifying their pastor's
deep conviction that it is in the appeal
to higher rather than lower ideals that
true success lies.

Cotton Mather, it is interesting to
note, was stirred two centuries ago by
precisely this same conviction. In a
very rare pamphlet, published in 1724,
and entitled "Proposals for the Revival
of Dying Religion by Ordered Societies
for that Purpose," there is outlined very
much the same scheme as that which
Dr. Clark set forth to his Williston
church friends. "If the churches had
then been ready," Dr. Clark himself
comments, "to welcome and foster such
an agency, who knows but the Endeavor
movement might have been begun five
generations before it did." The church
was not ready in Cotton Mather's day,
however. Moreover, such a movement
as Christian Endeavor could not have
flourished with a Mather instead ot a
Clark guiding it. Cheery belief in the
young and in their inherent w.holesome-
ness is an intrinsic part of Dr. Clark's

THE WORLD FOR CHRIST"

475

personality. It has availed to make him
a man fit to father a sanely spiritual
movement around which young people
eagerly rally.

Born of New England parentage (Sep-
tember 12, 1851,) and early orphaned,
the founder of Christian Endeavor was
adopted as a lad by his uncle, Reverend
E. W. Clark, who took him to Claremont,

thirty years old when he founded the
society which now binds together mil-
lions of enthusiastic young people. The
only other pulpit Dr. Clark has ever
filled regularly was that of the Phillips
church, South Boston, a charge which
he held between 1883-7. Since then he
has devoted all his time to the Christian
Endeavor movement. Fittingly is it

PARLOR WHERE THE FIRST C. E. U. WAS ORGANIZED

New Hampshire, to live. The boy's
education was gained at a typical New
England academy and at Dartmouth,
that sturdiest of New England colleges.
While a theological student at Andover
Seminary, young Clark married Harriet
E. Abbott of that town and hence pro-
ceeding, as soon as he had been graduat-
ed, to the pastorate of the church in Port-
land already alluded to. Dr. Clark,
it is significant to observe, was only

proposed that this quarter-century anni-
versary be celebrated by the erection of
an international headquarters building
which, beside providing offices for the
society and its publications, shall serve
as a memorial to Francis Edward Clark,
its founder and best friend.

To the manly charm of Dr. Clark's
personality is undoubtedly due in large
measure the dignity and efficiency which
has become the distinguishing charac-

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

"THE WORLD FOR CHRIST"

477

teristic of the Christian Endeavor move-
ment. Sentimentalism is almost entirely
absent from the meetings and the men
connected with this work. The Christ
ideal of the Endeavorer is not the pale
and emasculated model of the early Ital-
ian painter, but the ruddy, virile Christ
of modern German art, a Christ who
could make a scourge of fine cords and,
when occasion demanded, use it vigor-
ously. Thus, life-saving men accustomed
to the hardships of the sea and to its
storms; sailors who know as few others
can the gilded temptations of the great
city; New York policemen who are dajly
brought face to face with the dry-rot of
graft and the deadliness of vice in its
every form, all these no less than the
college graduate, burning with young
desire to make the world better, find
in Christian Endeavor exactly that which
suits their needs. With its three socie-
ties, Junior, Intermediate and Young
People's, all of which are interdenomi-
national and may be of any size from
five to five hundred, Christian Endeavor
offers an organizing opportunity such
as the church has never before known.
That it truly fills a great need, one has
only to examine its manifestations and
read a few of the testimonials volunteered
by leaders in the world of thought to
believe. Lord Curzon, when viceroy
of India, once told a friend that he
was much interested in Christian En-
deavor and felt that it had a large mis-
sion in that empire. That good man,
William McKinley, said of it, "I like
Christian Endeavor because Christian
Endeavor makes character. I like it
because it makes Christian character,
and there is no currency in this world
that passes at such a premium anywhere
as good Christian character." As for
President Roosevelt, his opinion of
Christian Endeavor during the quarter-
century of its existence is that it has
been "far-reaching in its effect for good.
To make better citizens, to lift up the
standard of American manhood and

womanhood," he continues, "is to do
the greatest service to the country. The
stability of this goverment depends upon
the individual character of its citizens.
No more important work can be done —
important to the cause of Christianity
as well as to our national life and great-
ness."

In the future, very likely, the societies
will turn their attention even more than
they have done in the past to the Chris-
tian-citizenship phase of their work. At
the convention of twenty thousand Chris-
tian Endeavorers, held in Baltimore last
Summer, one of the leading addresses
was that made by Honorable Charles
J. Bonaparte, now secretary of the navy,
on "Politics and Religion." This
paper was a careful exposition to
those thousands of young people, of the
truth that good government in America
is essentially a moral question and there-
fore a religious one. When we speak of
"pure politics," Mr. Bonaparte urged,
we mean politics guided and controlled
by sincere, scrupulous and unselfish
men. The politics of any community
can be "purified" only by leading such
men to engage in them and driving
other men out of them; and each of us
aids in the "purifying" process when he
tries to render a political career attract-
ive to our best citizens and does what
he can to make the worst gain a living
otherwise. The number of citizenship
classes already in existence has in-
creased appreciably since that address
was delivered.

But however the energy generated
by Christian Endeavor may express
itself, the central idea of the move-
ment is and must always remain a
spiritual one. Flower committees, social
committees, hospital committees, citi-
zenship committees and many more there
may be, but a weekly gathering of a
religious nature there must be. Let us
drop in at one of these to see the thing
exactly as it is, no one knowing that we
are there to "write an article," every-

478

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

UTE INDIANS ON THE WAY TO A COLORADO CHRISTIAN
ENDEAVOR UNION CONVENTION

body therefore quite simple, natural and
unconscious.

The place was the vestry of the Park
street church on Boston's Brimstone
corner; that church in which "America"
was first sung; to which Adirondack
Murray once drew enormous crowds;
the church, too, whose beautiful Sir
Christopher Wren steeple makes the
vista from the long mall of Boston
Common a delight to every eye and for
whose preservation every modern Athen-
ian of us clamored long and loud when
it was proposed, a few years ago, to sell
the property, raze the edifice and erect
in its place a mammoth building devoted
to commercial uses. This, then, was
the church whose Christian Endeavor
society — because it makes no claims to
size or attractiveness, because it is in
the heart of a great city and, from its

very situation, should afford variety of
membership — was selected for observa-
tion.

The meeting was at half-past six Sun-
day evening, the favorite time for Chris-
tian Endeavor gatherings the country
over, and the room the church vestry,
also the usual gathering place. I slipped
into a seat near the door, thinking to
remain unnoticed, but immediately a
young man handed me a hymn-book
open to the selection then being sung.
I decided afterward that he must belong
to the lookout committee, whose busi-
ness it is to see that the finest kind of
hospitality is exercised toward all who
happen in at meetings.

At first the large, low room struck me
as rather cheerless, but after I had taken
into account the impressions made upon
other than the sense of sight, I decided

"THE WORLD FOR CHRIST"

479

ENDEAVORERS ON THE UNITED STATES CRUISER CHICAGO

that, far from having a dreary effect, this
place was one in which it was very good
to be. For the singing was hearty, the
faces of the men and women present
bright with hope,and brotherly love, and
the tone of their remarks, when the time
came for discussion, stimulating and up-
lifting. The special topic of the even-
ing was Thanksgiving, because of the
proximity of that great national festival.
The good-looking young man who had
handed me a hymn-book was the first
to contribute his share to the meeting.
(Every Christian Endeavorer does some-
thing, you remember, to make the hour
of interest and profit to all.) He began
by pointing out the significance of the
festival at hand. "The Puritans were
not an effusive people," he said, "and
that they had little, from our point of
view, for which to be thankful, we well
know. Yet they appointed this day and

we cannot do better than observe it in
the spirit they brought to it. I myself
like Benjamin Franklin's way of passing
on good. When anybody returned to
him a loan he had made, he promptly
sought another opportunity to do good
with the money. Let us bring down,
next Tuesday night, something the year
has brought to us, that our missionary
may have an abundance to distribute
among the poor of Boston on Thanksgiv-
ing Day."

Scarcely had he taken his seat when
a pretty girl arose and declared, with
much feeling, that she was very thankful
for the Christian Endeavor meetings of
that church. Two years before she had
chanced to come there at a time when
she greatly needed such help as these
meetings give. It had all meant very
much to her, she said. Now, to a con-
servative Episcopalian, the note of per-

480

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

sonality in this last was a bit jarring.
But who was I to say that such testi-
mony does not do good? Moreover,
there was much less of talk about religion
than of appeal to translate religion
into service.

"I, for one, am thankful for my coun-
try,' ' an alert, handsome young man now
sprang up to say. "During this past
week, as I have been reading of the state
of affairs in Russia, I am more and more
grateful that I am an Amercian. There
may be things wrong with our country,
but we young people intend to hammer
away at them until we make them
right. Shall we not all rise and sing
'America?' "

When the stirring strains of our na-
tional anthem had died away, a lusty
old man with an ingratiating Scotch
accent got on his feet to draw a lesson
from the discovery of the engineers at
Panama that it is first of all necessary
to "stem the tide." "We, too," he said,
"must 'stem the tide' of wickedness
in our country. The Society of Chris-
tian Endeavor is a drill ground," he de-
clared, "where thousands are learning
the importance of active service. Let
us learn also how to stop things that are
wrong."

The last speaker was a fair-haired boy
with the face of a dreamer, who talked,
with such vehemence as brought a hectic
flush to his pale cheek, of the thankful-
ness we all should feel that America
has, during the past year, contributed so
markedly to the cause of peace; that the
Christian gentleman who is at the head
of our government saw and so happily
siezed the psychological moment for in-
tervention between. Russia and Japan.

And now, the hour having drawn to
a close, all the members rose and re-
peated together the pledge of loyalty
with which every Christian Endeavor
meeting concludes. I looked eagerly
into their faces as they passed out.
There was almost an equal number of
men and of women, and the counte-

nances of each and every one of them
reflected

"The light that never was on sea or land ;
The consecration and the Poet's dream."

More than once as I had listened to
the John Wesley hymns sung during the
evening and followed the Bible reading
of the leader, (who also carried the sing-
ing with her sweet soprano voice) my
mind reverted to those interdicted meet-
ings over which John Bunyan used to
preside and from which he was dragged
forth to write "Pilgrim's Progress." Yet
these young people are emphatically of
the twentieth century. One or two of
them had bulky Sunday newspapers pro-
truding from their overcoat pockets!

Undoubtedly the popularity of Chris-
tian Endeavor comes largely from the
fact that it is a movement within the
church. Professor Amos R. Wells, the
genial editor of the Christian Endeavor
World, and the author of a number of
manuals dealing directly with this move-
ment and its activities, recently inter-
viewed eighteen hundred ministers of
thirty-nine denominations as to the effi-
cacy of Christian Endeavor and the
degree of success with which it is fulfill-
ing its mission as' a training school for
church membership. These clergymen
testified almost as one man that the
Christian Endeavor movement marks a
decided advance in Christian work
among young people, that its meetings
are well attended, enthusiastic and spirit-
ually uplifting, and that the training it
gives in church activities is of inestim-
able value.

But though the primary object of this
movment is spiritual, it has many good
works to its credit. A group of Endea-
vorers in Indiana recently raised in ten
minutes $103 with which to buy a horse
for a missionary in Cuba whose faithful
animal had died, thus forcing him to
make his long journeys on foot. Here
in Boston some Endeavorers circulated
a petition requesting a large new depart-

"THE WORLD FOR CHRIST"

481

ment store to cease selling liquor; the
request was granted as soon as the store
heard of the petition. Camp Christian
Endeavor on Staten Island has for
twelve years now provided ten days of
country each Summer for over three hun-
dred poor children. Very many societies
maintain coffee rooms'^ others have en-
dowed ice-water tanks, still others place
good literature where it may divert and
uplift — in stations, in barber shops and

and teach the blind children of Marash
a way out of the darkness that engulfs
them.

This mention of Christian Endeavor
in far-off lands brings us to a fascinating
branch of the subject, that which has to
do with what may well enough be called
world-wide Christian Endeavor. Space
is lacking to go into this, but readers
who are interested cannot do better than
to send to the society's headquarters in

HINDOO CHRISTIAN ENDEAVORERS

HOLDING AN OPEN-AIR MEETING ON THE FAMOUS DINDIGUL ROCK IN SOUTH INDIA

in small boxes attached to park benches.
Still another practical service lies behind
the report, "Bought a quarter-acre of
land adjoining public school; graded
and improved itfor the children." Per-
haps the most touching service to be
recorded is, however, that of Endeavor-
ers in Marash, Turkey, who painfully
saved enough money to send a blind
member to Ooraf, there to be taught to
read in order that he might come back

Tremont Temple, Boston, for the enter-
taining little volume in which Dr. Clark
has recorded his experiences while jour-
neying around the globe in the interests
of this wonderful work. His trip covered
about thirty-nine thousand miles, and
more than twelve nations were visited.
Addresses were made, largely through
interpreters, to the number of three
hundred and fifty, in more than twenty
different languages. The result of all

482

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

this was the rousing to a high pitch of
enthusiasm and activity Christian En-
deavor forces in all the foreign countries
visited, and proof that just as Christian
Endeavor is applicable to all denomina-
tions so also is it applicable to all nations
and races of man.

In India, whose first society is now
eleven years old, aggressive work for the
cause is being constantly done by native
Endeavorers, who preach in the noisy
streets by means of a megaphone, visit
the hospitals regularly and advance in
all possible ways this movement which
is so dear to them. Two Christian En-

on Dindigal Rock, so named from a
legend that long ago, when a huge ser-
pent was menacing the city, there came
a great giant called Dindi, who, at the
request of the people hurled this rock
at the serpent and killed it.

In Japan there have been Christian
Endeavor conventions for fourteen years
now. The work there is under the
direction of a samurai who was educated
in this country and in England. A very
bright Christian Endeavor magazine is
published in the native language, and
the empress is so interested in the or-
ganization that she recently sent a gen-

CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR HEADQUARTERS, AT BOSTON

deavor papers are now published in the
native language of India! No wonder
Lord Curzon recognizes in this society
an important agency of civilization. At
the last South India Christian Endeavor
convention an open-air meeting was held

erous gift to aid in its work for the sol-
diers and sailors injured in the late war.
In whatever country and under what-
ever conditions these Christian Endea-
vor conventions are held, they are inspir-
ing occasions. Their size is astounding.

THE WORLD FOR CHRIST

4*3

Here in Boston we still remember with
awe that convention which brought
almost fifty-seven thousand registered
delegates to the city to hold meetings
that crowded Mechanics Hall and over-
flowed into two immense tents pitched
upon Boston Common. In Berlin, last
Summer, the attendance reached more

AMOS R. WELLS, MANAGING EDITOR OF THE
CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR WORLD

than six thousand, delegates being pres-
ent from all parts of Europe. For the next
all- European convention, to be held in
Geneva, Switzerland, next July, in con-
nection with the World's Christian En-,
deavor convention, thousands of Ameri-

cans will for the first time cross the ocean.

For the benefit of those among us who
may not be at Geneva, however, I want
to show Christian Endeavor as it looked
to one impressionable and sympathetic
journalist during last Summer's Balti-
more convention : " Christian hosts
flocked to the opening session with
hearts attuned to the melody of the
moment and souls alive to the greatness
of their cause. The huge hall, beautiful
and gay with its graceful drapery of many
hues; its fluttering flags and waving ban-
ners, its gleaming emblems of city, state
and nation; its inspiring, all-embracing
motto, 'The World For Christ,' in bright
white letters high above the throng, was
a fitting frame for the great gathering
within.

"Men and women and children of all
nations sat on the stage and in the big
body of the hall. Young and old, grave
and gay, the strong and weak, mingled
together, sitting on the rough chairs,
singing shoulder to shoulder, cheering
with the vim of soldiers on the firing
line and simultaneously bowing their
heads in silent prayer. Permeating the
whole assembly was the wonderful Chris-
tian Endeavor spirit which has caused the
influence of that small band of earnest
young men and women who formed
the nucleus of the present organization
to spread the whole world round, until
there is not now a civilized country
where the work and the the meaning
of the society are not known."

The wonderful Christian Endeavor
spirit! That, after all, is the secret
and the explanation of this whole
movement.

I RESPECT Assyria, China, Teutonia, and the Hebrews;

' I adopt each theory, myth, god, and demi-god; . .

I see that the old accounts, bibles, genealogies, are true, without exception;

I assert that all past days were what they should have been,

And that today is what it should be — and that America is.

— Walt Whitman ("With Antecedents"1 1860.)

A MISADVENTURE
IN THE CAMPAGNA

By Charles Warren Stoddard

Author of "South Sea Idyls," "For the Pleasure of His Company," etc

MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA

WE were seven. We had been dili-
gently breaking the Sabbath — or
rather Sunday; you know Christians
can't break the Sabbath, which is the
seventh day of the week — '"and the
seventh is the Sabbath of the Lord thy
God" — see the third commandment in
the Tables of the Law — so we had had
a glorious time in the Alban Hills on
Sunday, and our consciences were as
free as air.

We had done the lakes to a turn —
Albano and Neme — and the castles and
the palaces and monasteries and churches
and the vineyards where the laborers,
dressed like satyrs with hairy, goat-skin
trunks, were treading the wine press with
bare feet that fairly danced among the
bursting grapes.

Once we had come upon a troupe of

strolling tumblers and we went within
the canvas enclosure that was open to
to the sky and were beguiled for an hour
by the antics of an acrobatic family
whose chief attraction was evidently not
that of gravitation, for they would sud-
denly leap upon one another's heads and
shoulders and there stay while they
seemed to be holding each other down
to earth, lest the airier one should float
up into the clouds and be ultimately
lost to view. As it was, the curious
crowd in the dusty highway saw half the
show for nothing — the upper half of it
that went on above the top of the canvas
screen. All the windows that com-
manded that small arena were stuffed
with deadheads; and the slender, black-
gowned novices in the seminary garden
hung among the branches of the fruit

A MISADVENTURE IN THE CAMPAGNA

485

trees and were lost in admiration, fig
leaves and wonderment.

O! the joy of life, of living, in that
seductive Italy, where all Holy Days are
Holidays and the cares of the world go
begging!

We were seven, and we were each of
us seven times as happy as if we had
been only one. Over the vine-clad hills
we cantered -like cavaliers, clear into the
heart of Frascati. There we dined as
sumptuously as love and money and a
wolfish appetite combined could dream
of, hope for and accomplish. Now four
of us, having finished the day in good
form, retired like Christians and were
seen no more of men.

Then followed one of those delightful,
not to say delicious, Italian twilights,
the very memory of which makes one
homesick and heartsick for the past
beyond recall. There was music in the
piazza, and such music; everybody was
humming it and swaying to the rhythm
of it, and sometimes someone would for-
get himself and all the world beside and
let loose such a tenor note as went soar-
ing to the skies and was lost in a spon-
taneous ripple of sympathetic applause.
Children of nature were we in those
dear, dead days; and you know it is
written "except ye become as little
children" — and all the rest of it, that
must make thoughtful grown-ups think
twice and shudder.

Somehow we all drifted down, as if
swayed by a still, small voice, and, like
all voices that are still enough and small
enough, it was irresistible and swept us
toward the grand terrace that like a
hanging garden commanded the rose-
tinted prospect — the whole wide Cam-
pagna, even to the uttermost sea. There
was Rome, the eternal, nestling in the
the middle distance, and the dome of
St. Peter's, floating, a huge bubble, over
the city and looking ready to rise at
any moment, like an eclipsed moon, and
take its everlasting place among the
heavenly constellations.

Four from seven leaves three ! There
were three of us left who could not sleep
for the joy of living. It was a "joy
past joy" for us that day and no mistake.
There was Romeo, the dramatic Italian
who was engaged to his Juliet, and of
course the stern parents objected to the
match, that the words of the prophet
might be fulfilled. She, alas! was not
of our caravan. There was Alfredo, he
of the countess-wife; she was rusticating
at one of their villas and so he was alone
with us. These worthies, who had more
than once proved the fidelity of their
friendship for me, and I, their guest,
constituted a trio bent on fair adventure.
They were bankers and money changers
and their presence was necessary in
Rome at an unseasonable hour of the
morning following. It is all too true
that we might have slept until the dawn
broke in splendor upon the gilded turrets
of Frascati and then been whisked back
to the City of the Caesars in no time by
the first passenger train. This was quite
too commonplace to be thought of for
a moment. We returned to the piazza
to deliberate over egg-shell cups of black
coffee. The air was still vibrant with
music; some fantastic feet were rhyth-
mically marking the time — how could
one possibly sleep at such an hour and
place? When the last number of the
concert had ended in a flourish of
trumpets, we sprang suddenly from our
seats and with one voice solemnly
vowed that we would order our steeds
and cross the Campagna at midnight,
through fever and humidity unparalleled,
in spite of brigands and the gnashing
teeth of wolfish sheep-dogs, and the un-
discovered black-holes that are scattered
along the solitary road to Rome. This
bit of bravado we thought an inspiration.
No one we had ever known had cared
to adventure in this wise. It would be
something uncommon to tell of; some-
thing to think of as, in our declining
years, we recalled the days of our youth;
something perhaps to write of when the

486

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

pen was poised in deliberation and the
ink in the ink-well was low. We put the
question gravely, one to another, and
it was carried unanimously.

There was a promise of starlight, the
wonderful starlight of the soft Italian
Summer nights, when the globulous
planets hang in space at different alti-
tudes like lamps in the Mosque of the
Universe. There was a guide who proved
to be not much of a philosopher and no
friend at all, but who knew the trail with
his eyes shut, and who was to relieve
us of all further responsibility until he
had safely landed us at the Lateran
Gate of Rome. Everything was so easily
arranged that it seemed all must go well
with us. No premonition of evil caused
us to hesitate a moment. We were
about to finish the most delightful of
outings with the most romantic of night-
rides in the Campagna and to enter the
City of the Soul radiant in the drapery
of the dawn.

It was twelve, midnight, when we
mounted. The bell in the campanile
of some monastery in the hills was call-
ing the friars from their pillows to
prayer; the piazza was deserted by those
who had been sipping sherbet at the
little tables scattered about its edges; a
few new-found friends who had supped
with us stood by us to the last and we
turned from them as they paused in the
warm light of the cafe, the only light
visible at that hour, and took our depar-
ture under a brisk shower of benedic-
tions. The long road wound down the
hill between high walls and terraced gar-
dens. From time to time we passed the
wayside shrines so common in Catholic
countries; broad bars of light fell across
our path, for there was ever a lamp lit
by some faithful hand burning brightly
at the feet of the Madonna. The way
jr«w lonely. We set forth with songs,
but our voices were lost in the immense,
the eternal silence of that vast and
vacant land, and we were soon hushed
with awe.

We lighted our cigars and rode onward,
making feeble efforts to enliven the hour
with humor, but soon we relapsed into
a more becoming mood and road onward
like a quartet of mutes, listening to the
clatter of hoofs upon the well-beaten road
and the occasional snort of the horses as
they sniffed the damp and chilly air that
now ascended to us as from an open
grave. We began to miss the welcome
glow of the shrines, for in the almost
measureless solitude of the Campagna,
that prairie land of central Italy, there
are few souls to set up their lamps; and
it is not safe for one to be caught alone
on the road after nightfall, even though
bent on so gracious a duty as kindling
a flame on the altar of divine love. By
this time clouds covered the heavens
from horizon to horizon; the air was
heavy and black. We could not see our
hands when we held them close before
our eyes. The live coals at the end of
our cigars were like so many fireflies
floating in the air.

No one said anything now. We were
all listening to the muffled hoofs of the
horses as they fell lightly on the earth
and to the champing of bits, and the
jingling of the ornaments that dangled
from the bridles; but we were listen-
ing for something beside these familiar
sounds — something which we all dreaded
and no one dared to speak of, for fear
in the face or the voice of another in-
creases one's own fear a hundred-fold.
It came at last — that which we had all
been secretly dreading; we recognized
it the moment we heard it; it was un-
mistakable— a long, low growl afar off
in the blackness of darkness — a long,
low, wolfish growl that ended in a sharp
and vicious yelp, followed by a chorus of
howls and barks that chilled the very
marrow in our bones. "Avantil" cried
our guide, as he plunged the spurs into
his horse's flanks and dashed forward
into the night. We followed as best we
could, followed wildly, knowing not
whither we went, but seeking to keep

A MISADVENTURE IN THE CAMPAGNA

487

within sound of the hoofs that now thun-
dered upon the road like hail.

The wolf-dogs were upon us I The
wolf-dogs — monsters that guard the
flocks in the Campagna and are the
terror of all pedestrians; for in their case
escape is impossible and more than one
mangled corpse has been found by the
wayside of a morning, the partially de-
voured remains of some belated pilgrim
whose only memorial is one of the small
black crosses that are so frequent in
some parts of Italy and which mark the
spot where blood has been accidentally
or unlawfully shed. I thought of the
poor wretch who was overtaken by night
and storm, alone in the Campagna, and
who fled in terror before the wolf-dogs
until he fell exhausted on the pedestal
of a solitary shrine of the Madonna and
was miraculously saved. It was a prayer
and an intercession that preserved him,
say some; it was the light that sparkled
upon the tinsel decorations of the shrine
and frightened the beasts, say others; at
all events, that man was saved and at
daybreak he went his way rejoicing, to
spread the glad news of his deliverance.

We had no shrine in sight, no haven
of refuge ; there was no hope for us but
in flight — we must fly like the wind and
distance our pursuers. The air was
filled with the hideous yelping of the
infuriated pack, and the whole Cam-
pagna seemed alive with ravening mon-
sters clamoring for blood. We plunged
blindly into the darkness, relying upon
the instinct of our horses to keep the
road; once off it, we must have fallen
into one of the ditches that follow it at
intervals, or have driven full speed
against the low walls that border some
of the meadow lands, and in either case
our destruction was inevitable.

Meanwhile another pack of dogs,
awakened by the clamor, bore down
upon our quarter and we were in danger
of being intercepted ; but with desperate
haste we passed them just as they leaped
the wayside wall and struck into the

road, gnashing their teeth with rage at
the very heels of our horses. It was
a mighty narrow escape. One desperate
fellow was struck by the flying hoofs of
my horse and knocked endwise, and
then we saw, dimly, the gray, shadowy
forms slacking their pace. Gradually
the whole tribe retreated, the noise sub-
sided and there came the most grateful
season of silence that ever crept into my
life. Oddly enough, even in the midst
of our greatest peril, I was charmed with
the extraordinary scene; it was fascinat-
ingly mysterious; those gaunt, gray forms
leaping in the dark were like the white
foam-crests that are always visible in a
tempestuous sea, and which at night,
being faintly phosphorescent, appear
and disappear like apparitions. They
are the wolf-dogs of Neptune, insatiate
devils, snatching at their prey.

It was after we had regained our
composure, and were rather pleased at
having had so narrow an escape, that the
climax came upon us unexpectedly. We
were riding slowly in Indian file, tread-
.ing in one another's footsteps, as it
were; I was in the rear of the proces-
sion, for my beast of burden was slow-
footed and it was with difficulty that I
could keep up with the cavalcade. All
at once, without a moment's warning,
everything went from under me, and
with no time for a distinct sensation I
found myself grovelling among loose
stones, with my horse vainly striving
to regain his feet at my side. The
whole earth seemed to have sunk at that
instant and out of the chaos that suc-
ceeded came fearful voices asking if I
was hurt. I thought not, but before I
could render this verdict a two-edged
agony went corkscrew-fashion through
my arm from the shoulder to the wrist
and then returned to the elbow, where it
shot out a thousand red-hot tendrils and
struck root forever and forever.

We had no torch; fortunately we were
well furnished with matches; a slow train
of these feebly disclosed the humiliating

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

fact that the beast that bore me in
triumph from the jaws of death and the
mouths of the wolf-dogs had stepped off
the edge of a low bridge, dropped about
four feet into the bed of a dry creek,
was skinned alive on his nigh side and
pretty badly shaken all over. As for
me, not being able to float in mid-air
and dirigibly waft myself through space,
I had followed my leader, struck out
instinctively with my left arm — my right
hand still firmly clutching the bridle-
rein, which of course it should never
have done— and promptly landed on the
palm of my hand, a drop of perhaps
eight or nine feet; the consequence was
that the bones of the forearm snapped
like pipe-stems, and I telescoped at the
elbow in a highly original manner. You
could have hung your hat on the end of
something that stuck out of my elbow
joint like a peg.

I have only a faint remembrance of
what followed; it was like a horrible
nightmare out of which it seemed as if
I should never waken. I was tenderly as-
sisted out of that valley of the shadow,
a broken and a helpless thing; two hand-
kerchiefs knotted about my neck did ser-
vice as a sling — the arm could not be
bent at the elbow, it must hang and
sway at every step like a worthless and
lifeless member. In pain unspeakable
and with a sickening faintness, I was
lifted into the saddle and we solemnly
went our way.

O! the long, slow tramp over that
lonely road; my horse led by the guide,
I supported on his back by Alfredo and
Romeo, reeling where I sat; it seemed
as if at every step — though he went
never faster than a snail's pace — my
forearm must slip from the elbow socket,
for it was hanging by a nerve only ; and
all the while I was consumed by a fiery
thirst that was almost past endurance.
Every moment was an hour, and each
hour a day for me.

I remember we came to a wayside inn
far out on the Campagna; that is, it

served the purpose of a wayside inn by
daylight, but it was walled like a fortress
and grated to the very eaves. By day
its ponderous gates were opened wide
and within its well-shaded court one was
served with black bread and goat's-milk
cheese and the small, ripe olives as black
as sloes, and generous flagons of the
good wine that needs no bush, for the
fame of it was as broad as the Cam-
pagna. Had it been bad wine the cup-
bearer would have been stilettoed on
the spot. It was closed now, the
ostaria, as welcome to the sight of the
pilgrim as the khan in the desert; a
flaming lamp swung before an image of
the Madonna set high in a niche on the
outer wall. We rapped upon the huge
doors and awaited an answer; my heart
leaped up in the hope of temporary suc-
cor. No answer came. Again and again
we beat upon the doors of that inhos-
pitable house and besought the master,
for the love of God, to open to us and
give us wine — and he would not. At
last he spoke from behind the heavy
shutters that only a catapult could shat-
ter— they were bolted in his window far
above our heads — and from his impreg-
nable stronghold he bade us "go to"
and leave him to his dreams. Alfredo
and Romeo, in very choice Italian, had
sworn by all the saints that we were
friends, that ill fortune had befallen us,
that one of us was crippled badly and
that we were perishing for the refreshing
draught of wine, and he should have
gold for the price of it! Not another
word could we drag from him for love
or money. Poor wretch! no doubt he
thought we were dissembling brigands
and even feared to look out upon us,
huddling there in the light that fell from
the lamp of the Madonna; so we went
creeping down the endless road with
hearts that were fainting within us.

I know not what would have happened
next had not someone given that cry of
joy — "Listen!" We listened with all
our ears. Far, far away, up the road

A MISADVENTURE IN THE CAMPAGNA

489

toward the Alban Hills, we heard the
faintest chime of tiny, jangling bells,
and we saw a light twinkling like a low-
hanging star; the light drew nearer and
nearer, the chimes grew louder and
louder — it was as if a thousand little
bells were dancing in the air. Then we
knew that we were saved. There was
the lantern swinging under the high
wheels of the wine-cart on its lazy way
to Rome.

How very slowly it approached, that
delectable wine-cart; the driver was fast
asleep, high up in his hammock-like seat
over the wine casks; the old horse — he
was a perfect carnival of bells — was
scarcely dragging one foot after another;
he stopped once in a while, having
fallen asleep himself, but whenever he
stopped the bells were silenced, and it
was the silence and not the sound of
them that wakened the driver, where-
upon he would straightway crack his
whip and roll out a volley of musical
Italian oaths that sounded like "Gems"
from Dante. We literally held up that
defenceless driver and peremptorily de-
manded wine. He was frightened half
out of his wits, but he was wide awake
in a moment and rolled down to us
from his lofty pile one of those slender
casks that can be carried in the arms —
and the contents sometimes in the in-
terior of a man. Without more ado,
I fastened my lips upon the bunghole
of that cask and drank rivers of deli-
cious life. I drank until there was not
a nook nor a corner in my shattered
frame but thiilled to the ecstacy of bud-
ding hope; and then I was tied together
again and hoisted into the saddle and
towed gently on to the daybreak gates
of Rome.

At the Lateran Gate our guide, who
had been about as entertaining as a
guide-post, was seized with a nervous
tremor which apparently made it neces-
sary for him to speed back to Frascati
on the wings of the morning. We could
not detain him even for a cup of refresh-

ment; we did not care to. Somehow
he had not won our love or confidence.
With his herd in hand and his wage in
a pouch at his waist, he dropped out of
sight and mind while Alfredo and I
stood in the chill of the dawn awaiting
the return of Romeo, who had gone in
search of a coach that was to bear me
to my chamber of torture.

It had been decided that I was to be
taken to Alfredo's apartment, adjoining
the bank; his countess would not return
to his bosom for some weeks, meanwhile
I could rest there and be cared for while
I listened to the murmur of the money-
changers in the next room and philoso-
phized upon the love of filthy lucre and
the curse of gold.

It was five hours before the surgeons
arrived to look upon the wreck of a once
beautiful youth — or is my mind still
wandering? Upon arriving at Alfredo's
chamber — you might have seen at a
glance that nothing short of a countess,
with a banker to back her, could have
transformed four Roman walls into such
a bower of beauty — upon arriving, I
repeat, my body was prepared for burial
in that bed of pain. It was then dis-
covered that my coat could not be re-
moved in one piece; the sleeve had to
be slit from wrist to shoulder; the pro-
cess was not unlike that of popping a
collossal pea-pod; shirt sleeves were
likewise rent in twain and there lay the
arm, the cause of all our woe; in size
and shape and color it resembled a ripe
watermelon. It was placed between
cushions of pulverized ice to reduce the
inflammation ; twice daily it was twisted
in its socket to increase the inflamma-
tion and keep the broken bones from
knitting in the wrong place. In a fort-
night the inflammation had been frozen
out and it was possible to make a care-
ful examination and thereby discover
that the bones in the immediate vicinity
of the elbow were as mutable as a bag
of beans. It was decided that the elbow
should be unjointed twice daily until

490

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

such time as the combined wisdom of
many medicos should decide that the
arm was ripe for setting. I died daily,
twice daily. I have read in both prose
and verse of the pleasures of anticipa-
tion. No doubt there is something in
it — the poet surely should be well in-
formed— but much depends. For hours
I lay in dread of the approaching foot-
steps of my executioners; I then cried
to heaven for mercy; I was left in a
fainting condition which, however, was
not without its consolation, for I didn't
seem to care what happened after that —
until Jt was time to begin to watch the
clock with fear and trembling and to
hear the surgeons drawing near in the
hallway with dismay.

How good the friends were to me!
They sent their family physicians to
examine me; out of the fullness of their
hearts they fondly multiplied my pains.
What were the horrors of the Inquisi-
tion to martyrdom like mine? All this
was but the overture to the real tragedy
— or let us call it melodrama — that was
to follow.

The time came when I was carried to
the operating-room and stretched upon
the rack. It was a moment of intense
interest when six medical men deluged
me with chloroform and I sank into the
bottomless abyss of unconsciousness and
was held there for an hour and three-
quarters while they tried to repair the
damages that had well-nigh destroyed
this image of their Maker. I don't know
what they did, because the moment I
came to I had forgotten all about it. I
believe I was conscious of what they
were doing while they were doing it,
because I always yelled at the right
time, when they were hurting me most.
This has been the case in many opera-
tions which have come under my notice.
In the administration of mandragora we
but pilot the anguished spirit to another
world where it must endure in silence
that which wrung from it the cry of
despair in this. Even the waters of

Lethe cannot quench the flames that
consume a fevered heart.

As I gradually regained consciousness
and saw figures hovering like shadows
about me, there seemed a great silence
in the place and I said feebly, "Are you
not going to do something?" With one
accord they turned upon me scornfully
and cried: "Look out of that window 1"
I was assisted to the window and looked
down upon the pavement. The narrow
street for the space of many yards on
each side of me was packed thick with
an excited mob; a thousand eyes were
turned toward me, eyes wide with won-
der and inquiry. "You have been
shrieking ' Murder' for an hour or more,"
added one of the attendants; and thus
was I butchered to make a Roman holi-
day.

When I came fully to my senses I
discovered that the fractured arm had
been buried alive in a plaster of paris
tomb, and there it was to lie until the
judgment day, when the surgeons would
resurrect it and I should find it as good
as new, if not even better than ever. It
is not pleasant for one of a nervous and
imaginative temperament to find any
member of his body stuck fast in a
tunnel for an indefinite period. What
added to my discomfiture was the fear
that something might crawl in there out
of reach and tickle me to death. I was
never for a moment quite at ease
lest this should happen and I have
always wondered why it did not. It is
true that my corps of surgeons, having
dwindled to two or three Italians, now
did what they could to make life once
more worth living; they would trip
lightly into my chamber, as if they were
so many ballet dancers, and chirp in
a kind of medicated falsetto — "Be gay!
be gayl" I could not even think of
being gay upon compulsion. Their affec-
tation of gaiety, though kindly meant
and a cheerful enough example, I found
depressing. They had even assured me
with what little English they had at their

A MISADVENTURE IN THE CAMPAGNA

491

command that I could now "take a
small walk in a carriage."

And this I did, driving with Alfredo
and Romeo to the noble Basilica of San
Giovanni in Laterano by the Lateran
Gate, there on my knees to give thanks
for what was left of me, for I could not
forget how Alfredo had come to me,
casually it seemed, and looking carefully
at the arm while it was still a mass of
bruises, said to me, "What is that?" I
assured him it was a mole, my birth-
right; that by it I was to be identified
the world over; that I was the celebrated
long-lost brother, of whom he must have
heard and whose trade-mark was that im-
perishable blemish. He kindly laughed
and joined the surgeons who were in
the next room engaged in a spirited
argument. Later, when the worst was
over and all danger passed, he recalled
the incident to my mind and then con-
fessed that he had by the merest chance
overheard the Italians, who were talking
excitedly in their own tongue, and that
they had resolved upon the discovery of
this mole that mortification had set in
and that the arm must be amputated im-
mediately. They were upon the point
of procuring their instruments when he
revealed to them the secret of my lost-
brotherhood.

When the arm was taken out of its
plaster case I was supposed to have been
healed. Then all that was necessary
was to make the natural movements of
the arm, and I was advised to do so at
once. I tried and failed miserably; the
ringers alone were capable of any move-
ment whatever. As for the elbow — it
might as well have been a knot in the
branch of a tree. I was assured that
naturally the arm had stiffened and that
a little force would be necessary, and
some patience and perseverance in the
gradual manipulation of the unruly mem-
ber. The force they applied at once, in
an unexpected moment, and the wonder
is that I live to tell the tale.

They argued that their reputation was

at stake and that the Italian movement
cure was their only hope and my salva-
tion. They would kindly come daily
and help me to limber up; there seemed
to be no other way for them or me.
The arm, which was nearly straight and
would not bend any more than a marlin-
spike, was held out in front of me and
then, in an effort to bring my hand in
under my chin, one man would hold fast
to the upper arm while the other two
threw themselves bodily upon the lower
arm, as if it were a horizontal bar and
they were presently to do a double giant
swing or perish in the attempt. I
shrieked and fell. In two or three days
I was a nervous wreck and had returned
to my sleepless pillow.

That the Italian surgeon of that day
was deeply interested in the study of
anatomy I don't for one moment ques-
tion. One of my surgeons was from the
respected Hospital of the Holy Ghost.
It was his pleasure to drop in on me
at intervals with a little body of enthusi-
astic students. They gathered about my
bed as if they were holding a post-mor-
tem. The surgeon would draw from a
case the articulated arm and finger bones
of a skeleton. Poising this in a profes-
sional manner before my eyes, he would
call the attention of his class to the
beautiful specimen he held in his hand
and compare it with my unruly member
lying helpless on a pillow at my side,
and I must confess that it was very
greatly to the advantage of that por-
tion of the late lamented that dangled
before us.

He called a halt at last. The sur-
geons in a body — I was assured that I
had had five of the best in Italy in 1874
— were invited to go in peace. They
went, by no means pleased with the
obstinacy of their patient; and at part-
ing, to show that they left me more in
sorrow than in anger, they advised me
to visit the slaughter-house and bathe in
bullock's blood, believing that I might
possibly receive some benefit from this

492

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

gentle if not appetizing treament. Let
me add here that the application of the
X-ray has proved beyond a doubt that
there was no possible help for me from
the very first.

Aside from these haunting memories
were there no roses strewed along my
steep and thorny way through conval-
escence? Indeed, yes. Did I not lie
within hearing of that quaint, babbling
fountain in the Piazza di Spagna at the
foot of the Spanish steps? and on the
side of these steps was there not the
house and the chamber in which the in-
finitely pathetic Keats breathed his
poetic soul away? and were not friends
new and old forever greeting me with
floral and with fruit offerings and touch-
ing me to the heart with words of sym-
pathy? and did not Alfredo's countess,
overflowing with sweetness and broken
English, return in haste and gaily punch
the tired pillows and roll the infatuating
cigarette and fill my temporary prison-
house with the aroma of good fellowship?
Was I not read to and sung to and
played to from hour to hour? Did not
the mechanical pianoforte wheel under
my window day by day and render its
repertoire of old Italian arias and languor-
ous waltzes and the fantastic tarantella?
Did not Michele, good and faithful ser-
vant, strum the guitar and pirouette in
the most sprightly manner to his own
music when I was sleepless in the small
hours of the night, until I was dying of
laughter and crying with pain? And
were there not parlor fireworks set off
in the most reckless fashion, for they
were smokeless and noiseless and harm-
less? and were there not heaps of let-
ters of congratulation, to say nothing of
a sonnet written in my honor by a
nameless admirer? and little gifts, be-
sides, for it was the last day of my im-
prisonment and on the morrow I was to
go forth with my arm in a sling, an
object of interest, and no mistake.

Then there was so much to be thank-
ful for; I might have been dead of a

broken neck, or living with a broken
back, but I was not; it was fortunately
my left arm, and not my right arm that
was retired on half pay; it was my arm,
which is after all easily carried about,
and not my leg, which would have to be
dragged after me and make me lop-sided
for life. O! I was the luckiest of all
men, it seemed to me then, and so it
seems to me now. Nor did I ever before
— or since — awaken so much interest in
the eye of the public, the eye that is
usually indifferent to the affairs of others
in general. The lame, the halt and the
blind, knowing that I had not the heart
to refuse their importunities so long as
I had a centissimo to my name, flocked
to me like flies to a honey-pot. My
sling, which I was compelled to wear
for six months, was a badge of suffer-
ing honored by everyone who had
ever suffered or who had ever loved a
sufferer, and the limpid eyes of the young
and fair grew misty as they were bent
upon me and seemed to be whispering
messages that lips might fear to utter.

Ol there were compensations un-
speakable and I had much to be grate-
ful for.

One day Alfredo and Romeo and I
drove over to Frascati to dine. We had
been planning to do so for some time
and had selected a twilight of ineffable
beauty and an evening of moonlight
such as ravishes the soul. We looked
with straining eyes for the scene of my
downfall; surely there must be a dent
there somewhere, but we failed to iden-
tify it. There was the hospice of the in-
hospitable — formidable, forbidding as
ever. The lamp still burned before the
statue of the Blessed Virgin and we
saluted as we passed. Over all the vast
and echoless Campagna glimmered a
golden haze of fireflies.

We were presented with the freedom
of Frascati the moment our identity was
discovered. It seemed I had a kind of
unenviable fame there as having been
the victim of a misadventure as inglori-

A MISADVENTURE IN THE CAMPAGNA

493

ous as it was inexcusable. The town
gathered about us as we dined in the
piazza. Many were the words of pity
and condolence uttered within my hear-
ing; many the imprecations hurled upon
the devoted head of the poor fellow who
was our guide on that memorable night.
Where was he, we asked. O! he was
incarcerated and serving time for having
sacrificed another equestrian on the
altar of that fatal saddle. And where
was the horse? OI he had been
relieved from active duty, but we
could inspect him if it was our wish.

Anon he was led into our presence.

"Strange," said Alfredo, with an
air of perplexity, " strange that he
should have been an accomplice in
two similar fatalities. A horse can
usually see well enough in the dark to
keep from stumbling. Our animals cer-
tainly did."

"He must be blind," muttered Romeo,
and then he exclaimed wildly, "Look at
his eyes!"

I looked —

That beast had eyes like a couple of
hard-boiled eggs!

THE BATTLE

By A. A. B. Cavaness

BALDWIN, KANSAS

MOW what was in the battle,

The sword, the bayonet,
The bugle-waking morning,

And after sun was set
Still throbbing out the surges

Of foot and cavalry! —
Ah, what was in the battle

That men had right to die?

Now what was in the battle

That brothers eye to eye
Flashed fiercer, deadlier lightnings

Than swept the darkened sky?
And who stood on a mountain

And saw the battle's light,
And read the cannon's thunder

And solved the bloody fight?

And was one banner guilty,
And one God's minister,

Was one of hell the emblem,
One heaven's interpreter?

Did justice win the laurel,
Did right fall in the scale —

What meant it to be victor,
What did it mean to fail?

Over the million sleepers

That breast to bullet fell;
Over the darkened hearth-stones

Of North and South, as well,
Who stands upon a mountain

And looks with certain eye,
And reads the sleepers' riddle:

"Which had the right to die?'

Nor yea nor nay forever! —

The mountain voice is dumb !
But aye the crimson river

That was the battle's sum,
And ever the battle's shadow

That piled against the sky,
Appeals to voiceless heaven :

"Why did the brothers die?"

WHEN JILL

GOES TO BOARDING-SCHOOL

By W. F. Melton

BALTIMORE, MARYLAND

ILLUSTRATED BY M. L. BLUMENTHAL

BOARDING schools with strict regu-
lations serve a good purpose in
restraining the young (and occasionally
indiscreet) and in holding their attention
to the work that prepares for after-life.
Sometimes, the pity is, these rules are
unreasonable, or, if they are just, become
so tightly drawn as to render Jill a dull
girl; and, to be truthful, sometimes the
real, natural longings of her imprisoned
heart for liberty and love cause her to
be mischievous.

It is not strange that a maiden, fresh
from a home of mild restraint, and de-
prived of the soul-nurturing phrases of
family tongue and neighboring pen, will
resort to little tricks to get and to send
messages which, to her, seem to be the
most important affairs in the world.

Who is to be blamed for all this? The
girl alone? Surely not. If Jill will
thrust her hand through a candle-flame
to receive a letter from Jack, he would
risk it with the three Hebrew children in
order to grasp a fragment of the reverse
side of an envelope on which is penned
or penciled or pin-stuck in that familiar
hand, "S. W. A. K." (Sealed with a
kiss.)

Without a doubt Jack will rise earlier,
go farther and sit up later to make a
fool of himself when Jill is away at
boarding-school than Jill could ever

dream of. And if after some daring
prank he can learn that she says he is
"cute," he immediately remembers that
he was born under a lucky star, and
swears by the sun, moon and lotus blos-
som that there is no power in heaven,
earth or boarding-school that can prevent
his seeing her, or at least correspond-
ing with her. And Jack is an honorable
man!

These love-sick fellows, in the full
possession of their God-given faculties,
often worry the presidents and teachers
so much that they beg for municipal and
state enactments, hoping therein to find
relief. In a certain Alabama town in the
"City Code," page 167, section 408, is
found :

"Any person who, without legal
cause or excuse, enters upon or goes
sufficiently near the premises of any
college or school, within or adjoining
this city, . . . who loiters or passes
continually along the streets con-
nected herewith and adjoining
hereto . . . and disturbs the peace,
quiet or tranquility of the occupants
thereof, is guilty of a misdemeanor.' '

Since this law does not specify schools
tor females, we may suppose that the
authorities had in mind the protection
of the boys of a near-by institution, in

496

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

"THE LOVE-SICK FELLOWS"

the event that the girls attempted to vex,
worry or impose upon them.

In 1897, in the state of Tennessee, the
solons really gave the matter much seri-
ous consideration. While the bill was
passing the readings, many of the lead-
ing papers of the state discussed the
matter playfully, referring to it as "The
Johnnie Bill," but the act was passed
March 17, and two days later signed by
the governor, Honorable Robert L. Tay-
lor.

The statute is on pages forty-four and
forty-five of the "Public School Laws of
Tennessee," and is, in part, as follows:

ACT FOR PROTECTION OF
FEMALE BOARDING-SCHOOLS.

An Act for the protection of
boarding schools and colleges for
females, and the principals and in-
mates thereof. (Italics mine. In
the South an inmate almost invari-
ably means an occupant of a hos-
pital, asylum, or prison.)

Be it enacted, etc., That here-
after it shall be unlawful for any

person, or persons, to wilfully and
unnecessarily interfere with, disturb,
or in any way disquiet the pupils of
any school or college for females in
this state; . . nor shall any com-
munication be had, for such pur-
poses, with such pupils, or any of
them, either orally or in writing, or
by signs or otherwise; and it shall
also be unlawful for any person to
enter upon any such school or col-
lege premises, except on business,
without first having obtained per-
mission of the principal of the
same, etc.

Be it further enacted, That it
shall be unlawful for any person, or
persons, to loiter, wander, stand or
sit upon the public roads, streets,
alleys, sidewalks, or other places, or
to frequently and unnecessarily pass
along the same in such manner, or
with intent, to annoy, vex or disturb
. . and harrass the teachers, princi-
pal or pupils, or any of them,
etc.

The law-makers might have left out
"pupils," for the passing, loitering, wan-
dering, standing or sitting boys do not
annoy, vex or disturb the girls. Those
who are not interested pay no attention
to the passer-by. The boy who lingers
near does so, more than likely, because
he is encouraged by the sad, smiling face
of imprisoned Jill pressed close against
the window pane.

It may not be a secret that some prin-
cipals and teachers are too easily vexed.
The average boy, knowing this, desires
to see Jill all the more.

In a certain town two young men, who
were strangers in the place, were passing
in front of a boarding-school. One of
them discovered that he had lost his
glove. Looking back, he saw it some
distance away. While he went for it the
other waited. The president of the
school, seeing the young man standing
there alone, rushed out, watch in hand,

WHEN JILL GOES TO BOARDING - SCHOOL

497

and confronting the astonished fellow,
exclaimed:

"Sir, I will give you just one minute
in which to leave these premises!"

The stranger took out his watch also
and when the minute was up said calmly
to the president :

"Sir, the time is up; what are you
going to do about it?"

He had evidently discovered his mis-
take, for he smiled and replied:

"Why, I'm going back into the house,
of course."

It is interesting to note some of the

first cousins to visit the girls without
a written request from the parents. When
such is the case, the number of relatives
some -girls have would astound an old-
time Utahite.

A boy has been known to closely imi-
tate the handwriting of a girl's father
and to say:

"Please let our little Susie see an old
playmate, between whose family and ours
has long existed a friendly intimacy."

One shrewd young man borrowed an
expressman's suit, and went to the
school with a small, valuable package,

"FOR THE BOYS '* * * DO NOT ANNOY, DISTURB
OR VEX THE GIRLS"

methods resorted to by the swains who
feel that they are obliged to see or get
letters to their bonnie lassies.

Green, fresh, new principals usually
allow grandfathers, uncles, brothers and

which, he told the bell-girl, he was in-
structed by the agent to deliver to the
young lady in person. Thus he placed
in her own hands their engagement ring
and received from her own lips the

498

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

words which preserved his life till Com-
mencement.

He was a daring fellow who, every
Friday afternoon, blacked his face,
dressed as a laundress and carried a
basket of "clothes" to the room occu-
pied by his sweetheart and two of her
confidential friends. Her laundry list
always tallied exactly with the contents
of the basket: "One pair of Huyler's, a
dozen oranges, a box of cakes, chewing
gum, peanut brittle," and to represent
the soap, starch and blueing left over,
"a bottle of pickles, a bottle of olives,
and a package of snowflake crackers."

An ingenious youngster manipulated
his kite so as to have the string pass
near a third-story window. His skill
was probably due to the reward offered.
Jill grasped the situation and the string
— and thereby hangs a note.

Somewhere there is a young lawyer
who would fight if you were to say
"Bluebird" to him. The college is
located in the suburbs of a little city.
On the left, and not far away, is an old
peach orchard, through which the school
girls pass on their afternoon walks, the
vigilant teacher-in-charge leading the
line. In exactly the right place stands
a half-dead tree with a small hollow
which served as a private postoffice box,
in which Jill found and left a semi-
weekly epistle.

One beautiful Spring morning, the
president arose from his desk and paced
restlessly up and down the room, trying
to decide which of two special friends
to invite to preach the Commencement
sermon. He could not make up his
mind. Through the open door of
his office the fresh air brought him the
odor of blooming violets. He would
walk on the front porch awhile. The
first time he reached the end farthest
from his office, and just as he was turn-
ing, his attention was attracted by the
fluttering and crying of a couple of blue-
birds around the hole in the old peach
tree.

"Ha! some cruel snake interferes with
the innocent things!"

Arming himself with a cane, he
hurried to the rescue.

"Heavens! what is this? Ah! — a
letter! and — I'll declare, — some little
speckled eggs!"

Poor, poor Jack! The letter said, in
imitation of Schiller to Laura, "Thou
art the native home of my heart! Away
from you I am a scattered fragment! You
have stolen my heart and left me a
breathless statue! Mine ears are wild
for the silvery notes which leave thy lips
reluctantly!" But if Jill ever read it, it
was in the second edition.

One afternoon some leaflets, advertis-
ing a coming circus, were thrown over
a college gate. It was the hour for the
front-yard promenade. The boy who
carried the papers was one of those little
fellows, common in all small cities, who
knows everybody, but whose name is
known by few.

A young man, who was not at all in-
terested in the circus, had paid the lad
a half-dollar to throw the papers over,
on condition that he give a wink or
a knowing look to a certain young lady.
The boy declared, "I know her as well
as I do you. She is the one that has
such purty big brown eyes."

It chanced that she was sitting on the
steps and caught the expression on the
boy's face. She ran ahead of the other
girls, picked up the papers and began
distributing them, for they were allowed
to read circulars and almanacs thus
publicly distributed.

On the upper left corner of the
big yellow circular that she retained, she
noticed the dimly penciled words,
"Wyksembict. — previous." Then along
down the page, between the lines, she
saw other strange combinations, in let-
ters so small as to be scarcely noticeable.

The other girls were reading about
the animals, the freaks and the chariot
race.

She remarked, as though disgusted,

WHEN JILL GOES TO BOARDING - SCHOOL

499

THE GIRL GRASPED THE SITUATION — ALSO THE STRING.'

"I care nothing about cheap shows,"
and crumpled the paper as if she would
cast it at a passing dog, but slyly slipped
it into her sleeve.

As soon as she could go to her room
without feeling that she would arouse
suspicion, she spread the sheet before
her and worried for an hour trying to
get some sense out of the letters, but all
she could make out was plain enough
already, "previous" and "set." She

was about to throw it aside as some
piece of foolishness, when she fancied
that the Qs were like Charlie's.

She tried again.

" Wyksembict. — previous.

"N-ffuw,—

*'U biruxw rg-r tiy ok-xw tiye
g-bsjwexguwda ub rgw qubsiq ri set,
Ud tiy kicw nw twr, okw-aw ok-xw
rgeww rgwew rinieeiq: - k-xw ibw
vwrqwwb rqi ok-ub ibwa. U kicw tiy

500

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

"THE ONE THAT HAS SUCH PURTY, BIG
BROWN EYES."

vwrrwe rg-b wcwe. Xg-ekuw. "

After supper she recited her lesson in
stenography and then went for the usual
half-hour's practice on the typewriter.
The book of instructions for the man-
ipulation of the machine lay open before
her. Like a flash of unexpected light-
ning, it came into her mind that "Wyk-
sembict" means Wyckoff, Seamans &
Benedict, and her soul exclaimed, for
another girl was in the room, "O, that
means Remington typewriter!"

By some process which seems impossi-
ble to one who has never been a loved
girl in a boarding-school, she divined
the "previous" to mean that the writer
had used each time the letter just before
the right one. She feigned a headache,
hurried to her room, placed the plan of
the keyboard before her and traced it
out.

QWERTYUIOP

ASDFGHJKL

Z X C V B N M

Translated thus:

"MAGGIE:— I notice that you place
your handkerchiefs in the window
to dry. If you love me yet, please
place three there tomorrow: a lace
one between two plain ones. I love
you better than ever. CHARLIE."

Next afternoon, three snowy handker-
chiefs clung tenaciously to the window
glass of Maggie's room, in such order
as to make one young man feel as if he
owned the entire world and held a thirty-
days' option on the kingdom of heaven.

To be sure, it is sometimes mere love
of adventure that causes a boy to appear
so eager. A case is called to mind in
which a young man met a girl of the
boarding-school at a church festival early
in the session. Every Saturday after-
noon during the following seven months,
when he was permitted by the military
regulations of his school, he came to
town and passed, going and coming, by
Jill's school, just to get a bird's-eye view
of her.

The commencement of the girls' school
was a month earlier than the other. Jill
came back, ostensibly to visit a school-
mate, and notwithstanding the fact that
she was absolutely free, she spent the
festive week of a military school com-
mencement without seeing Jack, — and
he knew she was there. This example,
however, is one among ten thousand and
altogether deplorable.

When grown-up people recall the days
of youth, or deliberately and seriously
reflect upon the affairs of young life,
they make allowance for a world of inci-
dents which are not sufficient to vex, dis-
turb, annoy and harrass a teacher or
a principal.

The struggle to attain the desirable
and to escape the unpleasant is no more
real in age than it is in youth.

Would it be too much to declare that
Love and Hate are the two elements,
Vishvamitra and the rejecting gods,

WHEN JILL GOES TO BOARDING-SCHOOL 501

which keep this world, Trishanka-like, seem to interfere is cast out as bad.
in equilibrium? Good Mister Shakespeare, teach the
Love is the thought that sweetens life old the happy art of grouping the little
and paves the streets of heaven with gold, pictures of youthful life before a back-
Let the school-boy strive after it! Hate ground of ripe experience!
withers the leaves of existence and rat-
tles the chains of darkness. Let him "O love! when womanhood is in the flush,

who has the cower avoid it! And man's a younS and an unspotted thing,

" , His first-breathed word, and her half-con-

The sour teacher, the S etc bos, scious blush,

molds one form into beauty and calls Are fair as light in heaven, or flowers in

it good; that which would only Spring."

BALLADE OF THE MIDNIGHT LAMPS

By Ernest McGaffey

Author of "Poems," "Sonnets to a Wife," etc.

LEWISTON, ILLINOIS

LIGHTS that shine on the dusky stone,
Bright through the town's unwholesome air,
Some from the top of towers lone
Some from the iron columns glare,
And others out from the windows flare
To rise and follow and fade again,

Or wander and waver here and there
Like will-o-the-wisps to the sons of men.

Shadows down from the buildings thrown

Bask on the sallow pavements bare,
Winds from the soaring spaces blown

Dip and pass over street and square,

And midnight ruffians homeward fare
As panthers slink to a distant den,

While twinkling lamps through the darkness stare
Like will o-the-wisps to the sons of men.

Outlaws here that the creeds disown
These who the half- world's tumult share,

Those in the gutters lying prone
Rough of feature and gray of hair,
And white the moon as the ghost of care

While pale as gleams from a pathless fen,
The lamps go beckoning far and fair

Like will-o-the-wisps to the sons of men.

Envoy

Prince of the realms of Black Despair

Souls you seek by these lures I ken ;

For who but the Devil sets this snare

Like will-o-the-wisps to the sons of men?

PROSELYTES

By Arnold M. Anderson

NEW YORK CITY

MR. PROFFET labored along the
dusty highway under the boiling
sun; he carried his coat under his arm
and every hundred yards he stopped
under a shade tree to mop his expansive
face and catch his breath — walking was
no light task for one of his avoirdupois.
He was bound for the Nickerson place,
where he sometimes spent his Sundays;
his host had failed to meet him at the
station with the two-seater, as was his
custom, and Proffet had rashly under-
taken to walk. The distance was scarcely
a mile, yet to him that mile was torture.
At length he arrived at the familiar gate
and puffed up the driveway to the house,
floundered up the steps and plumped
down into a comfortable wicker chair on
the veranda to recuperate before an-
nouncing himself. He was fanning his
flushed face desperately when Mrs.
Nickerson came out to him bearing a
large glass of amber-colored refreshment
with a chunk of ice tinkling in it.

"I saw you coming — and you walked 1"
she said in astonishment.

Proffet took the glass mechanically.
"Thank you! Yes, I walked — but what
— what has happened to you?" He was
staring wonderingly at his hostess, who
stood before him with a bandage around
her head and her left arm in a sling.

"Not much to me — only a sprained
arm and a bruise on the head. Oh,
Proff ! It was dreadful! Dreadful!"
"What on earth—"

"Dimple ran away with us! Tipped
us out! Oh, it was dreadful!"

"Old Dimple ran away? No, no — and
Nick? Was Nick hurt?"

"He's in bed. Two ribs and a collar-
bone broken, and no telling what else.
Oh, just to think that Dimple would do
this after our driving her for twenty

years without an accident! It is too
dreadful!"

Proffet gulped down his drink to for-
tify his nerves; he had forgotten all
about his sweltering discomfort. "When
did this happen?"

"Last night. That is why there was
nobody at the station to meet you. Why
did you walk? Johnson, the livery man,
could have brought you up."

"Tut, I'm fond of walking — it is a
little hotter than I thought, that's all.
Let me go to see Nick. How is he
doing?"

"He's cheerful, but I don't know —
there may be internal injuries — I fell
right on top of him! Oh Proffet, you
know how I have always wished that I
were a small woman — '-'

"As if that was your fault! Hadn't
you better tell him I'm here?"

A few minutes later Proffet was seated
at the bedside of his friend. "You look
pretty badly shaken up, old man," he
greeted him, solemnly.

"Bosh! What are a few broken
bones?"

"It might have been — "

"To be sure it might, but it isn't, so
what's the sense of crying about some-
thing that didn't happen. Cheer up,
and for heaven's sake don't give me any
of your mush!"

"All right. Do you suffer much?"

"I'm not exactly easy — clavicle broken
— collar-bone, you know, and two ribs,
and a few ligatures, or ligaments, I think
they're called, were torn and the ster-
num — breast - bone, you know — was
smashed in. I can't lie down flat — got
to stay propped up for a while, doctor
said, so that the bones won't press too
hard on the thorax— that's the chest —
I'm learning a pile about my body — it's

PROSELYTES

mighty interesting, too, Proff! You
don't begin to realize what a number
of wonderful cords and tendons and
bones and muscles and organs you have
until you have something the matter with
you! Lucky about Lucy, eh? Flopped
down on me — ha, ha! — all the matter
with her is a bump on the occipital —
back of the head — and a sprained ulna —
one of the bones of the forearm. Doctor
said it was fortunate we were both stout
people or something really serious might
have resulted."

"How did this thing happen? I can't
understand how old Dimple could take
a notion to go on the rampage!"

"Automobile!"

"Ah, I see!"

"The old girl was jogging along all
right — we were coming home from the
station — it was very dark — I was delayed
at the office and had to take the eight-
twenty, you see — it was foggy out, too,
besides Dimple is getting pretty deaf—
well, first thing you know one of those
mad-house thrashing machines came
tearing by and shaved us so close that
we could smell their breath! Then
another one shot past on the other side
of us — Dimple just lost her head com-
pletely and away she went. Really, I
didn't think she had so much speed in
her — she traveled a mighty fast clip for
such an old horse and I could no more
stop her than I could fly. She just
whooped it up, and when we came to
the turn in the road she ran the rig into
a boulder and over and out we went!"

"Outrage! Isn't there any law to
regulate automobiles in this state?"

"Law? What do these automobile
fiends care about the law? Why, that's
the sport of it — breaking the law — ex-
ceeding the speed limit and tooting their
crazy horns and scaring old reliable
family horses into fits ! I say we need
to organize a vigilance committee!
Lynching might help some."

"I heartily agree with you!"

"As it is now, what chance has a per-

son to get back at them? None! None
whatever! It's chugg, chugg, chugg,
honk, honk! then biff — bang! Some-
body killed, perhaps, but do you sup-
pose they stop to find out? Not very
often! They're out of sight in short
order while the victim endangers his
soul cursing them with his dying breath!
And in the night-time they're just as
reckless, mind you. As for taking note
of their number, why, there are so many
of the infernal engines on the roads
nowadays that the numbers run up into
five figures! Who can remember such
a number after just one quick glance,
I'd like to know, I can't, even if it is
possible to make out the figures, which
it isn't half the time!"

"A person should have a right to
shoot in such cases!"

"It would be only self-protection. I
mean to go armed, myself, after this —
if I ever get on my feet again— and I'll
shoot, too! It's a howling shame that
such methods should be necessary in
a civilized country!"

"We're reverting to barbarism, is my
opinion."

"Mechanical barbarism, yes! It was
animal barbarism before! We're worse
off now because we know better. The
barbarism is downright deliberate. This
age is machinery- wild; everything we
eat and drink and wear is made by
machinery; it's machine politics, ma-
chine religion, and I've even heard of
a love affair being conducted by means
of the phonograph! We're getting far.
ther and farther away from nature, and
pretty soon we'll be nothing but ma-
chines ourselves, — mere automatons that
can do only what they're wound up to
do. It's all wrong, I say. Here I will
be laid up for two or three months, like
as not— there'll be a big doctor's bill to
pay; Dimple is ruined forever — Lucy
vows she'll never ride behind her again
— we'll have to buy a new horse : all on
account of a senseless machine, an auto-
mobile! Yet it wouldn't be so bad if

504

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

those that run the unearthly engines
would keep sober, but they won'tl I
suppose it's impossible to see the sport
of automobiling unless you're drunk!"

"I never had any use for automobiles.
Give me the horse every time."

"Ah, Proff, the horse! There's the
animal. There's God's best gift to man.
You can love a horse; he's flesh and
blood and he eats and drinks and sleeps;
he's alive. Then look at the automo-
bile 1 What is it! Nothing but noise
and smell! Think of loving a combina-
tion of steam engine and oil refinery!
It's disgusting! I long for the days of
splendid horses. Only a few years ago
you could see any number of fine turn-
outs right around here, even. What
finer sight is there than a span of high-
stepping thoroughbreds, sleek, mettle-
some, graceful in every curve of their
bodies? There's poetry in a horse. See
them prancing, see them step out, hear
the clatter of their hoofs. Ah, life!
There's life for you! There's breeding!
There's style! There's sport! None of
your vile-smelling devil-wagons for me,
thank you! A man can feel like a king
holding the reins and controlling flesh
and blood bred up to perfection; the
vibrations of the reins thrill your whole
body; you are the master; those two
royal-blooded beasts are yours to com-
mand; they obey every touch of the
lines; they respond with precision to
every tone of your voice; they know
you; they are sensitive to high emotion;
they're not mechanical toys! A horse
has a soul! Has an automobile a soul?
Can it tremble with excitement? Can it
rub a silken nose against your cheek
and look at you with eyes full of tender-
ness? Yet people are going crazy over
these ugly, emotionless machines! Just
think of it — making stokers of them-
selves and railroads of the public high-
ways!"

"It may be only a fad, Nick. Fads
don't last long. They will come to their
senses again."

"That time is far distant, old man, I
would say; still, blood is thicker than
water, or gasoline, and perhaps there is
some hope."

In two months the Nickersons were
fully recovered from their injuries and
had bought a new horse. Dimple, no
longer considered trustworthy, was let
out to pasture to end her days in idle-
ness. The new horse was a large, stocky
animal of even, gentle temper and war-
ranted to keep within bounds upon all
possible occasions. He was a city-bred
horse and trolleys, locomotives or auto-
mobiles had no terrors for him; he was
a horse without nerves, apparently, one
that inspired confidence. All went well
until one day when he was being driven
through a peaceful farming district up in
the back country. They came upon a
stupid-looking cow with a crumpled horn,
grazing by the roadside. The new horse
stopped abruptly and the cow looked up
and mooed; just then, unfortunately, an
old sow with a litter of squealing pigs
following her appeared from around the
corner of a shed. This was too much for
the city -bred horse and he shied, quiver-
ing with fright.

"Go away, bossie! Go away, pigs!"
shrieked Mrs. Nickerson. The inno-
cent farm animals, had they understood,
might possibly have been obliging
enough to withdraw, but as it was, they
threatened to draw nearer instead. The
horse reared up, bolted to one side and
darted ahead down the stony country
road. It wasn't a runaway, exactly, for
Mr. Nickerson managed to keep the
frightened animal to the road until he
winded and slowed down of his own
accord, yet it was enough of a scare to
induce them to sell the horse. There-
after, for a month, Mr. Nickerson walked
to and from the station every day; then
an automobile agent began to cultivate
his acquaintance and the outcome was
that he bought an automobile. On an-
other Sunday morning when Mr. Proffet,

PROSELYTES

505

bent upon a visit to the Nickersons,
alighted from the train, he was disap-
pointed at not finding the two-seater
awaiting him. He began pacing the
platform— Nickerson might be late — he
would wait a few minutes. In the spot
where the two-seater usually stood was
a large yellow touring car with two
grimly garbed and begoggled figures in
it. Proffet scorned a second glance at
these despised creatures.

"We're waiting for you, Proff."

Proffet looked up with a start. It
was the voice of his beloved friend, and
the sounds issued from one of those
devil's disciples.

"Jump in, old man!"

"Proffet stood as one transfixed, gap-
ing stupidly, unbelievingly. Perplexity
was written all over his face.

"It's all right, jump in!" urged Nick-
erson, laughing, and raising his goggles
to prove his identity.

Without a word, Proffet climbed
aboard and took the seat beside his host.
Mr. Nickerson turned to the operating
apparatus — there was a sputtering
sound; he pulled a lever at his side
and the vehicle moved forward as easily
as a baby carriage; another pull at the
lever and the car swung into a rhythmic
glide and whirred down the hard, smooth
turnpike without a jerk or jar. Proffet
sat rigid; his expression was one of firm,
relentless disapproval. A press on a
foot lever and the automobile danced
ahead a little faster. "Honk! Honk!
Swish!" A vision of a horse and buggy
swept by. The operator leaned intently
forward, head straight front, eyes fixed on
the ribbon of road that reeled up under
them, his feet poised on heel, ever ready
to press lightly for speed or jam down
hard on the brake; his hands grasped
the steering wheel and coaxed and
guided the flying car on the course — the
one hand never removed from the wheel,
the other but for a moment at times to
squeeze the bulb of the horn or to pull
a side lever; the whole man was atten-

tion, concentration. Whirr — whirr —
zimm — zimm — zimm — lightly, swiftly
flew the car. "Honk! Honk!" Grace-
fully they swerved round a corner and
went spinning along a grassy lane. The
machine danced and hummed and
droned— it was music — and not a jerk
or jar.

Proffet had unconsciously relaxed and
was reposing luxuriously in the soft,
springy leather-covered seat, yet sus-
picion lurked in his eyes. Without a
sign of hesitation they climbed a short
hill, then — whizz — down a long stretch
of gently-sloping road they shot. The
swift, cool breeze fanned the broad
cheeks of Proffet and he sighed con-
tentedly. "Honk! Honk!" ':he car
gently careened around another corner
and they were on the turnpike again.
"Honk! Honk!" a huge red tonneau
flashed past.

"Now I'm going to let her out a
little," announced Nickerson, without
turning his head. He pulled the speed
lever — he gave it a second pull — he
pressed his foot upon the accelerator —
whish ! — they had been crawling before !
The car rocked in a fine, dizzy frenzy,
and in long, sweeping bounds, seeming
scarcely to touch earth at all, it skimmed
the surface with meteoric speed; the
noise of the jump-spark was quickened
into one even, prolonged, metallic note,
while the beat of the wind was like the
affrighted flutter of myriads of wings.
Not a jerk, not a jar — just soft, billowy,
intoxicating motion; not a rattle, not
a squeak or a strain— just one long, dull,
singing roar of speed.

Proffet's eyes were half closed and his
hands lay folded dreamily in his lap;
not a trace of scorn, not a shade of
doubt was in his face, it was sublimely
serene. Time was passing — he knew it
not; distance was made sport of — he
was oblivious.

"Now for a long climb," said the
driver. A pull at a lever and the gear
was changed; the speed slackened; the

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

up-grade was before them. The gait
was steady and strong and easy; the
tires gripped the road-bed deliberately
and surely. Up, up without a slip or
a hitch; up and up, there was no effort,
no reluctance, no impatience; with reso-
lute assurance the car pulled up the
steep, winding road until it rolled leis-
urely on the summit of the ridge. Then,
as they lazily followed a meandering
driveway, they could see far below them
a beautiful stretch of country with hills
and valleys, wood and fields, and in the
vague distance the sea meeting the sky.
The car wheeled around and stopped.

"Ah!" ejaculated Proffet involuntarily.

Nickerson looked at his watch and
then glanced at the odometer. "Proff,
we've been going an hour and fifteen
minutes, how many miles do you sup-
pose we have traveled?"

"I can't imagine; I can't imagine!"

"Forty-seven miles! Up and down
hill, forty-seven miles! How's that?"

"Marvelous! Marvelous!"

"Now we'll have luncheon," pro-
claimed Mrs. Nickerson from the rear
seat.

"Luncheon!" gasped Proffet.

They alighted; the hampers were
opened; a square of linen was spread on
the ground and, as if by magic, a feast
fit for a king was before them.

"Marvelous!" cried Proffet as he sat
down before the tempting repast.

"Look at that machine, Proff, look
at her! Forty-seven miles in an hour
and fifteen minutes and able to keep
it up all day! Look at her! Is she
wind-broken? Is she ready to drop
from fatigue? There's no use talking,
old man, the automobile is here and it's
here to stay. Horses are all right — so
were oxen all right — but I tell you, this
is an advanced age, an age of humanity
that relieves man and beast of the strain
of labor by means of machinery. Look
at that car! Isn't she a beauty! Look
at her curves — and did you ever have a
more glorious ride in your life?"

"Never!"

"Talk about poetry — there's poetry for
you! Would you ever have believed
it?"

"Never!"

"We've been old fogies; we've been
way behind the times; we've been kick-
ing in the face of Providence; we've—"

"Hold on, Nick, how about it? Isn't
there some danger of this thing's blow-
ing up?" interrupted Proffet, half-heart-
edly.

"Why, Proff," interposed Mrs. Nick-
erson, "with all the experience we've
had with horses, it would be a positive
relief to be blown up for a change!"

WHEN I PERUSE THE CONQUER'D FAME

li/HEN I peruse the conquer'd fame of heroes, and the victories of mighty generals, I do

not envy the generals,

Nor the President in his Presidency, nor the rich in his great house ;
But when I hear of the brotherhood of lovers, how it was with them,
How through life, through dangers, odium, unchanging, long and long,
Through youth, and through middle and old age, how unfaltering, how affectionate and

faithful they were,
Then I am pensive — I hastily walk away, filled with the bitterest envy.

— Walt Whitman ("Leaves of Grass" 1860)

MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

VI. -BIRTH AND DEATH OF THE HUMAN RACE

By Michael A. Lane

Author of "The Level of Social Motion," "New Dawns of Knowledge," etc

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

IN looking for the beginning of the
human race we turn to the imperish-
able records of the earth's geological
history. Mere traditions and mere writ-
ten records are worthless here, because
tradition, in the course of time, becomes
changed beyond recognition, or is wholly
lost; and we know that the art of writing
is a thing of yesterday. Men inhabited
the earth ages beyond the reach of oral
or written history, and the evidences of
this fact are found in the things which
early man left behind him, and which are
preserved in the depths of the earth's
crust.

For the sake of convenience, geologists
divide the earth's crust into four periods
— primary, secondary, tertiary and qua-
ternary. The last named period is the
most superficial of these four great sys-
tems of deposits, and is estimated,
roughly, to be about one million years
old.

In virtually all parts of the globe-
especially in Europe and Asia, — remains
of men have been found in the quater-
nary beds, never in the tertiary beds.
It is true, however, that such remains
have been found on the border between
the quaternary and tertiary; at the place
where the tertiary rock merges into the
quaternary rock; so that there is good
evidence that man existed as long ago as
the beginning of the quarternary, which
would carry him back to about one mil-
lion years ago.

Attempts to trace man further back
have been made by numerous geologists
and anthropologists. Chipped flint in-
struments, or what seemed to be such,
were found in tertiary formations at

Thenay and Saint- Prest in France, near
Lisbon in Portugal, and in Kent, Eng-
land. Rudely carved bones were found
in the tertiary at Monte Aperto, in Italy.
But these finds, while interesting enough,
were by no means conclusive. It is not
certain that man had anything to do
with them. They may or may not be
the remains of men; and their value as
circumstantial evidence has long since
been denied by the majority of those
who have carefully considered the claims
of the finders.

It is a peculiar fact that flint instru-
ments, and other instruments, have been
everywhere found in the quaternary beds,
and that human bones, and traces of
human bones, have been also found in
these beds. A still stranger fact was
unearthed, literally, by Dr. Eugene Du-
bois, who, in 1896, in the Island of
Java, discovered, in the uppermost ter-
tiary deposits, a collection of bones of
such a suspicious character as to set the
whole world of science in an uproar, so
to speak.

These bones were a fossil thigh and
a fossil skull, so similar to the human,
and at the same time so similar to the
anthropoid ape, that they could not be
strictly classified with either genus.

The discovery was at once seized upon
as evidence of the former existence of
a being who was neither man nor ape,
but a transition between the two. Du-
bois named his find (or Professor
Haeckel named it for him) Pithecan-
thropus Erectus — "the erect ape-man."
The find, it was claimed, supplied the
much discussed "missing link" of Dar-
win The thigh of this strange animal

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

is entirely human; the skull is very like,
in its anatomical characters and its cran-
ial capacity, to that of a large longi-
manus gibbon ; while the teeth are inter-
mediate between those of man and the
high apes.

All the facts above recited go to show
that man, as a tool-using animal, first
appeared close to the beginning of the
quaternary period. The evidence may
be marshaled as follows:

1. No positively human remains have
ever been found in the tertiary. There
have, however, been found in the tertiary
bones of a race of beings partly human,
partly anthropoid, which could have
been none other than the ancestors of
the first tool-using race of animals that
appeared upon the earth. The thigh of
Dubois' strange animal was human;
therefore that animal could walk erect.
No ape can walk erect. But here was
an animal who not only walked erect
but who had the skull of an ape and
teeth partly ape and partly human.

2. The quaternary deposits are every-
where marked by undoubted remains of
tool-using animals, and bones which un-
doubtedly are human.

The conclusion from these data is
clear. The life of man as a tool-using
animal must have begun, soon or late,
in the quaternary period. How long a
time was required for the development
of the art of tool-using, even to the
crudest and simplest stage, is, of course,
a thing impossible to say. But that the
human race, as distinguished from the
ape, and from Pithecanthropus Erectus,
began to be at a more or less remote
stage of the quaternary period there can
be no reasonable doubt.

Thus, in the records of the geological
history of the earth, it is possible to
trace the dawn of human life, and to say
with reasonable certainty that the begin-
ning of the human race, as we know it,
lay in the peculiar force or stress of en-
vironment which sifted out from the
anthropoids those individuals who could

walk erect; and which sifted again from
among these the individuals who could
use and, later, could manufacture, tools.

Close beside the bones of Dubois'
ape-man were found the bodies of other
animals common enough in the tertiary
period. The ape-man was already gain-
ing upon his fellows. Subsequently, as
a tool-user, he sped far ahead of them
and ultimately became what we find him
now. The use of tools, which distin-
guished the man in those ancient times
from all the other animals around him,
is still his distinguishing trait. To say
that man is different from other animals
in virtue of his reasoning power,— to say
that man is unique because he is
rational, — is to utter a falsehood. If
man is rational, all other animals are
rational also. Some men are by no
means as "rational" as are many of the
lower animals. A mature dog is much
more rational I, > .1 a very young human
child. But the ... e of tools is preemi-
nently the human characteristic. And
that very use of tools has been the cause
in man of the very rapid and dispropor-
tionate increase of the reasoning power
which is common to all animals as far
down the scale as one cares to go.

We may say, then, that the human
race "began" when Pithecanthropus, or
his descendants, discovered the use of
tools. The vanishing point of our per-
spective, when we look behind us, lies
at the point where the tool-line and the
hand-line intersect — at the point where
the hairy ancestor discovered that a club
was a better instrument than the hand
with which to deal death or destruction
to the things around him.

But if such be the vanishing point in
the past, where is the vanishing point of
human existence when we turn from the
past and look before us? Does the per-
spective broaden or narrow? Is there
any perspective to the future at all?

The minds of most men are happily
not disturbed by questions of this kind.
The senualist, the materialist, the man

MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

5°9

of the world, the merely human machines
who do the work of the world and earn
thereby a scant living, are but remotely
interested in the end which awaits their
race. Most men have a vague belief
that the human race will wind up its
affairs at some indeterminate time in the
future. Positive popular beliefs in this
respect are always of a religious nature.
Christians believe that the world, and
man with it, will be destroyed by fire.
Jews believe that the angel Gabriel will
blow a blast on a trumpet, a sort of
"taps," which will awaken even the
dead. Every religion is its own world-
ender, and no two religions quite agree
as to the precise method by which the
human business will be finally and for-
ever wound up, although all men agree
that a final winding up there must be.
Can science offer a suggestion or two
to clear up the difficulty? Geology and
anatomy, working together, have done
quite well with the interesting question
of man's beginning. Can zoology tell
anything positive concerning his end?

Precise prediction is not a difficult
art could one only be sure of his facts.
In the preciseness of prediction, every-
thing depends upon the preciseness of
the facts. Given exact data and exact
prediction is measurably sure. Now the
chief difficulty of our present problem is
lack of perfect precision. It is impossi-
ble to say just what the races of man are
going to do, in the near or remote
future, in the matter of intermingling
with one another. Could we know,
positively, that the various human races
would blend into one great race — that
European, Asiatic, African, and other
races would, in the future, so mix and
mingle, as to produce only one type of
man, why, then, we could positively say
that human affairs on this earth would
be wound up in a comparatively short
time.

Again, if the races continue distinct
from one another, if they do not so
mingle, we may be quite certain that

the end of human life will come even
earlier than in the first case. In either
case, the end is only a question of time.
The human race will die out, and it
will die out ages before the earth itself
becomes uninhabitable. The prospects
are that numerous races of animals will
thrive and be happy upon this earth ages
after man has utterly disappeared; just
as we know that numerous races lived
and died ages before he came. Let us
consider the rational bases we have for
this apparently bold and striking asser-
tion.

According to the very soundest views
based upon indisputable facts the pro-
cess called life is not a thing unique in
existence at all, but is merely a matter
of physico-chemical reaction. This is
not by any means an assumption. The
physiologist, when he makes that asser-
tion, is not contending for a doctrine.
He does not desire to disprove the theo-
ries or the beliefs of others who are not
physiologists. He has no personal in-
terest in the case one way or another.
If somebody had been able to prove that
life is not a physico-chemical process
the physiologist would never have as-
sumed that it was, and could, therefore,
never have proved that it was. In try-
ing to find out the facts in the case,
physiology has demonstrated the physico-
chemical character of life. There are
many aspects of this physics-chemistry
that are obscure; but their obscurity
does not suggest a non-physico-chemical
cause. On the contrary, that very ob-
scurity is a proof in itself that physics-
chemistry is at the bottom of it. There
is obscurity only because there is some-
thing which can be obscure. It is pre-
cisely the physics-chemistry that is ob-
scure, and nothing else. The entire
hubbub about obscurity is made by the
physiologist himself. Why? Because
he believes that it is due to some-
thing other than mere physico-chemi-
cal causes? By no means. He calls
attention to it only to show that he has

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

found a difficult problem in chemistry
and physics, which he forthwith proceeds
to attack with fresh vigor.

Granting, however, that life is nothing
but the continuous building up and
breaking down of certain highly complex
molecules, arranged in definite structures
which facilitate this process, there would
be no good ground for saying that a
race of animals could not continue liv-
ing ad infinitum. The question of race
life is bound up with the method by
which the individuals of the race repro-
duce themselves. The animal whose
body consists of a single cell grows
larger until a definite proportion is
reached between the content of its body
and the superficial area of its body and
it then divides into two cells. The con-
tent increases faster than the surface.
Beginning with one such cell there will
soon be produced a numerous race of
cells, perhaps millions or billions in
number, each individual cell living its
own separate life without association
with its fellows.

Let us now fancy a race of cells pro-
duced in the following fashion: The
initial cell divides into two cells, but
the young cells remain in close contact
with each other. Succeeding divisions
follow the same rule, so that, although
the race multiplies into the billions, the
cell remains not only associated together
but bound together by actual ties, such
as minute fibers or cement stuff. This
race of cells would be an organized com-
munity, an organic unity, which would
act with the precision of an individual.
In this great, organized community of
cells the individual cells live and propa-
gate by dividing into two, like the cells
of the other race, only that in the second
race the cells are dependent upon one
another for their food.

Now a man is nothing but such a race
of cells, and he propagates compact, or-
ganized races of cells like himself.

Here, then is a starting point for our
inquiry as to the future life of the human

race. We know that a great, bound-
together race of cells like a man, or
other large animal or plant, dies out.
When a man dies we behold the death
of a race of cells billions upon billions
in number. Nothing more, nothing
less. But this race of cells which dies
when a man dies has left behind its
children-cells in the body of the man's
offspring; and thus, although the indi-
vidual man dies, and with him the par-
ent-cells, the race life of the cell is con-
tinued in the new individual who is his
child.

These are simple facts. And if we
wish to find out whether race life in
general has its limits (for we already
know that the individual dies) it would
be natural to turn to some simple form
of race life such as that described above
in the race of cells which lead solitary
and not associated lives.

This was the thought which inspired
the work of the noted French zoologist,
M. Maupas, whose beautiful experiments
have made possible the scientific pro-
phecy to the effect that the human race
is doomed to comparatively early extinc-
tion, whether or not there come about a
universal mingling of the varieties of
man now inhabiting the earth.

Maupas took for his work the classic
little animal, paramoecium, which in-
habits the water of ponds. Paramoecium
is probably one two-hundred-and-fiftieth
of an inch in diameter and is furnished
with wonderful little swimming organs
like hairs which, when seen in the micro-
scope, remind one of an eyelash. These
little hairs are veritable lashes. They
lash the water and thus propel paramoe-
cium with considerable swiftness. M.
Maupas found that in a few generations
this race of cells became senescent: —
grew old, degenerated, and would, in
a short time, have died out, had not a
very strange thing occurred. The worn-
out cells were paired; pairs of them were
drawn together by chemical affinity, two
of them uniting to form one large cell.

MAN IN PERSPECTIVE

The new, large cell was vigorous and
strong, and quickly divided into two
young animals, and this new race was
as healthy and as young as its ancestor-
race.

What had happened here to give this
little race its new lease of life? It surely
would have died had it not been for the
pairing of the cells. For Maupus, in
order to prove this, isolated some of the
paramoecia, so that conjugation could
not take place, and these isolated indi-
viduals died after a number of genera-
tions.

Clearly, what took place was this:
The elements in the body of the animal
were slowly dissociating from chemical
forms which make life possible, and
were breaking up into simpler forms or
into compounds which, although com-
plex, are not of the peculiar complexity
which we know as living matter. This
change is going on everywhere in so-
called non-living as well as in so-called
living matter. Heavy elements are
everywhere breaking up into lighter
elements — atoms are disintegrating into
simpler bodies, called "electrons" or
"corpuscles" — and in so-called living
matter the change is faster, because of
the complex character of its molecules.

In the case of paramoecium the disin-
tegration was stopped by the bringing
in of new material which set up again
a new cycle of chemistry which, in time,
would break down and cease if not
renewed afresh.

And now for the application of our
very brief and wholly inadequate survey
of the chemistry of life. The life of
men, as the life of all other animals and
all plants, runs in chemical cycles. If
there were no conjugation, no rejuvena-
tion, no periodic pairing of individuals,
the race would die in one generation.
As the living matter in the body of an
individual breaks down into the simpler
elements of which it is composed, so, in
time, must the chemistry of the race
itself become simplified, and the race

disappear. But a senescent race, a de-
generating and dying race of men, can
be rejuvenated and made young again
by conjugation, or blending, with a
different race of men. This newly in-
vigorated race,— this actually new race,
will, in its own turn, die, if not fresh-
ened by marriage with a still different
race. And so on.

But here we find ourselves in a pretty
dilemma. Of men there are compara-
tively few races, and only a small num-
ber of these seem willing to mix. The
different races of Europe freely mingle.
But the European does not mix with the
African or Mongolian, and these do not
mix among themselves. We can imagine
a state of affairs such as this : The races
of Europe will one day be reduced, by
mingling, into one homogenous race; or
let us say the races called Caucasian
will one day be blended into one great
uniform race. Of the remaining races,
the Mongol and the Negro will be the
only types, the others being absorbed by
these two, or otherwise obliterated.

If now these three races refuse to
blend, the one with the other; if each
insists upon reproducing itself pure,
each must, in a comparatively short
time, reach the end of its race life-cycle,
and so pass away.

If, on the other hand, these races com-
mingle, man may survive a compara-
tively long time, during which the new,
final world-race is being compounded.
But this compounding must one day be
finished; and then, when there is no
longer another variety with which the
human race can refresh or rejuvenate
itself, why, then it must run its course —
and a rapid one it will be — to complete
extinction.

Perhaps it had been better for the per-
petuation of the human race had our
hairy ancestor never discovered the use
of those wonderful tools of which his
descendants are so fond of boasting. In
that case the human race might not have
become as dominant as it now is, but on

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

the other hand it might today have a
numerous representation among the
species of animals which inhabit the
earth. In other words, there might
have been developed a larger number of
human kinds. It is possible, of course,
that, had it not been for his inventive-
ness and his skill in the manufacture of
tools, man would have been wiped out
ages ago.

At all events, he has a very short
representation in the way of species,
and the enormous size of his brain in
proportion to the rest of his body may
prove only an additional factor of his
racial undoing.

If the men of the future are wise they
will probably prolong their racial life by
deliberately mingling their races to-
gether. This method, — especially if it
were followed with intelligence and
skillful discrimination — would postpone
the final extinction of the kind for a
long time. But even then the doom of

the race would be inevitable. The de-
crease in human population would be
rapid and sure, and racial death would
speedily put an end to human activity.

With this thought in mind, we can
imagine a world with life in plenty but
no man by to say he were lord of it. We
can see a world, much as the world of
today, with all its brilliant beauty, its
returning Spring hailed with joy by bird
and beast, its sunshine and showers, its
streaming color, its dull, blind mysteries,
its infinite waste of energy and its per-
fectly purposeless existence, and man
not even a memory in the mind of its
inhabitants.

As with man, so with all living things.
And even so with matter itself; for the
great poet spoke truth when he said :

" The great globe itself,

And all it doth inherit, shall dissolve,
And like this insubstantial pageant, faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on."

A GARDEN OF PINKS

'I love everything that's pink in the whole world."— Our Tinj Gladji

By Jasper Barnett Cowdin

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

THE Artist too loves pink, my little dear,
' And touches with a dainty breath the rose.
How sweet you look in pink He also knows,
And leaves some on your peach-soft cheek and ear.
What would the sunset be without its cheer?
Babies are pink down to the very toes,
And delicate tints of pink the sea-shell shows.
Pink teas will some day be your fad, I fear.
If of propriety you are the pink,

A new white frock you'll get, with bright pink bows-es,
And then you'll be a fairy queen, I think —
A sight to make the pink-eyed bunnies blink.
Now baby-pigs are silky-pink, like roses ;
And there are pink — but here the sonnet closes.

By Ripley D. Saunders

ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI

MISS MARGARET," said Senator
Joe Galloway of Boone, greeting
his old-time sweetheart at the governor's
inaugural reception, "'it is years since
last we met," and the sight of you is
like the morning sunshine after an all-
night storm. 'Fair nature seems re-
vived, and even my heart sits light and
jocund at the day's return!"

Margaret Dane laughed up into the
ruddy face surmounted by its shock of
stubborn gray hair, a humorous face that
refused to grow old. The new Missouri
legislature was beginning its session
and Major Joe Galloway returned as
one of the veteran senators of that body.

"Senator," she retorted, "you're the
same incorrigible flatterer as of old. My
earliest recollection is of your saying
sweet things to me — that was a long time
ago — and here you are at it again!"

"I began telling you the truth, Miss
Margaret," replied Senator Galloway,
making one of his famous Boone County
bows, "when I was just past nine
years of age. I recall the occasion per-
fectly. I was so infatuated with you
that I dreamed of you the night before
— and I told you my dream during
recess at school and formally notified
you that you were the object of mj-
youthful affections. 'When love's well-
timed, 'tis not a fault to love,' as the
poet says."

Again Margaret Dane's mellow laugh
rang out, such a laugh as is not often
heard from spinster lips, so genuinely
and unconsciously girlish it was. She
looked with cordial eyes at Senator Joe
Galloway— glad to see him once more,
yet a bit tremulous and pensive.

"You are incurable, Senator," she
said. "You talk very lovely to us
women, yet they say you wouldn't marry

one of us to save our lives. And I'm
willing to wager that your bachelor card
parties and little suppers will be the
scandal of Jefferson City this Winter,
just as I'm told they've always been!"

Senator Galloway's face fell woefully
at this.

"Miss Margaret," came his sudden
answer, "I regret to say that you would
lose your wager — and, anyway, you're
responsible for my bachelorhood. But
those little consolatory festivals of which
you speak are bygone things — 'departed,
never to return,' as the poet says. For
you are now gazing, Miss Margaret,
upon an old bachelor who at last thanks
fate that you refused to marry him — an
old bachelor at the end of his rope,
busted higher than Gilderoy's kite, mort-
gaged up to his neck and serving his last
term in the Missouri senate before set-
tling down to save what he may from
'the wreck of fortunes and the crash of
worlds.' "

"Senator!" cried Margaret Dane.
"You surely don't mean it!"

But Senator Galloway nodded a rue-
ful head. The next moment he smiled
apologetically.

"I beg you a thousand pardons," he
said quaintly. "Isn't it just like me to
blurt out anything that's on my mind to
you? And at the governor's reception
and our happy meeting! It's a shame,
that's what it is!" Self-reproach was in
his eyes.

"You run along and have a good time
now," he ventured. "'Let joy be un-
confined!' I want to read in the St.
Louis papers tomorrow that Miss Mar-
garet Dane was the belle of the ball I"

Margaret Dane, old maid, was gazing
curiously at the man who had once asked
her to be his wife, and who had con-

S'4

tinued to live a bachelor through all the
years thereafter. Then she spoke de-
liberately.

"Senator," she asked, "who do you
think is in Jefferson City for the opening
of this session of the legislature? Wil-
liam Harlow, our old-time schoolmate.
He is now the general counsel for a big
St. Louis railroad, I believe. I met
him today."

They stood apart from the reception
throng.

"The man I thought you loved," said
Senator Joe Galloway. "The man I
thought you were going to marry when
you refused me."

Margaret Dane smiled a queer little
smile.

"That's all in the long ago, Senator,"
she spoke quietly. "We must not go
too deeply into the past. ' '

Senator Galloway ran his hand through
his rumpled gray hair in a helpless sort
of way. He was wondering what Mar-
garet Dane would say if she knew that
he loved her as deeply as in the "long
ago" of which she spoke.

And just then a white-haired old lady
beckoned to Margaret and the two sepa-
rated. The senator saw his companion
swept onward to where stood the new
governor of Missouri and his official
party. It was a brilliant state function
and Senator Joe Galloway's eyes shone
as he noted how clean-cut and thorough-
bred his old sweetheart looked among
the other women.

"I oughtn't to have told her the fix I
was in," he said to himself reproach-
fully. "Dod zound it! I'd rather she'd
think I was prospering and getting rich,
like William Harlow 1"

But it was the truth that Senator
Galloway had blurted out to Margaret
Dane concerning his luckless plight.

"Endorsed too much paper for poor
old Jesse Hawkins, dad blame it!" he
explained to his friends. "He'd ha'
done the same for me, but that don't
alter the fact that Jess has gone up the

flume and I'm left holding the bag.
Well, well! It's a world of ups and
downs, and a man must take his medi-
cine without whimpering!"

Which the senator bravely did.

"'Laugh and the world laughs with
you,' as the poet says," he was wont
to remark. "'Weep and you weep
alone.' And I don't intend to be any
lonelier than I can help."

"Sailing close to the wind," he called
it, when he proceeded to dispense with
the little bachelor dissipations that for
so many years had been his delight at
the state capital. He still kept his two
modest rooms a short walk distant from
the Madison House, but along with his
card parties and little suppers, he gave
up the span of fast trotters that had been
raised on his own farm.

**A man's got no right to play poker
if he can't afford to lose," he frankly
declared. "And I find I can't tackle
late suppers like I used to when I was
younger. Those horses of mine? Well,
I got such a good offer for 'em from
Colonel Bob Sappington, over there in
Boone, that it would have been flying in
the face of Providence to refuse!"

And there the matter rested.

But the frowns of an unkindly fortune
were not entirely equal to the task of
utterly destroying Senator Joe Galloway's
sunniness of soul. He was almost as
full of good humor as ever, his laugh
as genuine, his temperamental optimism
as prone to make itself evident. Only
at rare moments did he seem to lack
this brave buoyancy of spirit And these
moments, it might have been noticed,
followed his occasional glimpses of Mar-
garet Dane.

More than once did the senator en-
counter her during this time. Once or
twice, too, he saw William Harlow, "the
big St. Louis corporation lawyer," but
each time in an environment that for-
bade any renewal of their earlier ac-
quaintance. And once he happened to
get a sight of Harlow and Margaret Dane

THE TEMPTING OF SENATOR GALLOWAY

together — Harlow was handing her into
a carriage at a shop door, and he noticed
how well the railroad attorney's carefully
groomed figure seemed to harmonize with
Margaret's distinguished personal pres-
ence.

Then, one day Senator Galloway ex-
perienced a surprise. He received the
friendliest of letters from William Har-
low— cordial, intimate, yet reproachful
after a fashion. "Why the mischief
haven't you let me know that you were
the Joe Galloway I used to go to school
with, you sinner?" the lawyer asked.
"I had no idea Senator Galloway and
that freckle-faced boy were one and the
same! Come and see me, Joe— I want
to have a talk with you about those old
days!"

Senator Joe Galloway was genuinely
touched by the tone of the letter. He
read it musingly.

"Well, sir," he said to himself,
"blamed if it ain't true, as the poet
says — 'Oh, friends regretted, scenes
forever dear, remembrance hails you
with her warmest tear!' And, after all,
even though William Harlow did come
between me and Margaret, we were boys
at school together, and I reckon the
memory of those old times is sort o'
tugging at his heart-strings."

Strangely enough, their first meeting
was at the house where Margaret Dane
was a guest, and was brought about by
her, the occasion being one of the
minor social affairs of the Jefferson City
season. The house in question was
markedly political, its master one of the
captains of his party's state organiza-
tion, and it was in his own smoking den
that Senator Galloway and William Har-
low came face to face, their host leaving
them alone together for a reminiscent
chat. The great St. Louis lawyer was
a cold-faced man, with gray eyes that
seemed hardened into steel, but he ap-
peared sincerely glad to see the senator,
his boyhood friend. Their talk was long
and intimate, so intimate, indeed, that

it created the opportunity for which the
railroad lawyer had hoped.

"Old fellow," he said after a time,
placing one hand on the senator's knee,
"I'm here in Jefferson City on important
business, and you can help me in it, and
I want you to help me."

"Anything in the world I can do,
Harlow," replied Senator Joe Galloway,
"I'll do with the greatest pleasure in
life. What is it you want?"

Harlow moved his chair closer to the
other's.

"It's this, Joe," he answered.
"There's going to be a bill introduced
in both houses this session to straighten
out an old tangle in my road's affairs —
a tangle inherited from the company
which we succeeded, the old Missouri-
Transcontinental that built the Missouri
division of our line. Under a certain
construction of the laws as they now
stand, we're responsible for that com-
pany's bonds held by the state of Miss-
ouri; but I know, and every other good
lawyer knows, that we're not really liable
for those bonds. Well, the bill I'm
going to have introduced, while not
expressly stating the fact on its face,
will in its operation relieve us absolutely
of that unjust liability. But there's
going to be a fight on the bill, and I
want you to help us through."

Senator Galloway's face, until now
beaming with a sincere willingness to
serve an old friend, suddenly became
clouded.

"I'm sorry, Harlow," he said, almost
shamefaced. "I' heard something to
the effect that such a bill was contem-
plated, but I didn't know that was what
you wanted to speak to me about."

There was a little pause. William
Harlow was watching Senator Galloway
with coldly intent eyes.

"I'll tell you the plain truth, Harlow,"
continued the senator. "That bill of
yours will be a dangerous measure for
me to favor. Old friendship is a big
claim on a man — I've just made myself

5i6

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

temporarily a poor man by recognizing
such a claim — it's asking a good deal
just for old friendship's sake!"

A cynical amusement flashed swiftly
into William Harlow's evil eyes. By
heaven, Senator Galloway was willing
to be bribed! There could be no other
meaning to his words at such a moment.
It was an opportunity to be improved on
the spot.

"You've hit the nail on the head, Joe,
old fellow," Harlow spoke, his voice
sinking. "It would be asking a good
deal for old friendship's sake, and I
don't mean to do it. I don't want you
to make any sacrifice on our account.
I'm talking with you in advance about
this bill because we've known each other
all our lives, and I can talk to you con-
fidentially, as old friend to old friend.
What I say to you is this: I am in a
position to do you a good turn if you
help us in this matter. I want you to
understand this plainly, Joe."

An almost pathetic change took place
in Senator Joe Galloway's mind. Sud-
denly the tenderness of his recollection
of past days vanished and he remem-
bered the boy, "Bill" Harlow, as he had
been in reality, the boy that was father
to this evil man. An old scorn that had
until this moment been smoothed away
by Time's fingers awoke in his soul.
But he spoke with unchanged voice.

"Now you're coming to the point,
Harlow," he said. "You certainly are
in a position to help me out of a bad
hole, if I help you and your road out of
one. And my nose is right against the
grindstone, Harlow — for a year to come,
anyway!"

"I know," interrupted the other. "I
heard all about it — your endorsing for
Jesse Hawkins and having to pay at
short notice — and that sort of thing ties
a man up for a while. And I heard
about it in such a way, too, that, by
George, I'm glad I've got a chance,
maybe, to put you on your feet again!"
Senator Galloway's jaws were grimly

outlined as he set his teeth together on
his cigar.

"Then we're talking man to man," he
said. "Get right down to business,
Harlow."

"Business it is," responded Harlow
with an ugly smile. "If you do all you
can with your friends in the senate, get-
ting them to vote with you for my bill
and helping to pass it, it'll lift the mort-
gage on your farm."

"The mortgage is for five thousand
dollars," remarked Senator Galloway.

"It'll be lifted," said the other.
"You'll find yourself able to pay it
off and have your farm unencumbered
again. This is official — I'm here to see
that this bill is passed!"
There was silence for a moment.
"What do you say, Joe?" asked Har-
low, still smiling. Can I count on you?"
Senator Galloway moved uneasily.
"There's one thing more," he re-
sponded. "A man can't be too careful
in the beginning. How did it happen
that you got me in your mind for this
work? Who was telling you that I was
so hard up just at present?"
Harlow chuckled.

"Oh, that part of it's all right!" he
said. "There's no danger of anybody
putting two and two together. You'd
never guess, Joe, but I'll tell you, all the
same. It was Margaret Dane. She was
bewailing the hard luck that had be-
fallen you — she thinks you're ruined to
Kingdom Come— and she told me the
story with tears in her eyes. It was
Margaret Dane!"

Senator Galloway threw away his
cigar.

"You mean, then," he asked, "that
you'll pay me a fee of five thousand dol-
lars to work and vote for your bill, get-
ting as many of my friends in the senate
to vote for it as I can, and thus helping
its passage?"

"That's exactly what I mean, senator,"
answered William Harlow, giving Sena-
tor Galloway his official title with em-

THE TEMPTING OF SENATOR GALLOWAY

517

phasized unction. "A fee of five thou-
sand dollars, cash down."

Senator Joe Galloway rose to his feet.

"The thing that I regret most at this
exact moment, Harlow," he said, "is
that, in a sense, you happen to be Mar-
garet Dane's guest tonight."

Surprise and dismay sprang into the
other's face.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean," replied Senator Galloway,
"that but for that fact, two out of three
damned unpleasant things would happen
to you. First and foremost, I'd kick you
out of this room and down into the
street. Second, I'd expose you and
your scoundrelly scheme to the people
now in this house, if only to explain
why I had kicked you into their view.
And third, as it is, I mean to denounce
you on the floor of the senate for at-
tempted bribery."

"You fool!" said Harlow. "You can't
prove a thing, and you are throwing
away five thousand dollars!"

"You scoundrel!" replied Senator
Galloway. "You and your kind don't
seem to understand that there are some
men left in Missouri whom money can't
buy. Damned if I don't believe you'd
try to bribe old George Graham Vest
himself if he was alive and in the Mis-
souri legislature now ! But the old state's
honest yet, and you fellows are booked
to find it out to your cost. I'll help to
hasten the good day, by the eternal!"

"What are you going to do?" asked
Harlow.

"I'm going to do just what I said,"
answered Senator Galloway. "I'd send
you to the penitentiary, if I could. And
as I can't, I'll at least brand that bill of
yours so indelibly with the brand of
boodle that the biggest legislative crook
in all Missouri won't dare vote for it!"

Dead silence followed the words.
Then, suddenly, William Harlow
laughed, a baffled, malignant laugh.

"You will never have the chance to

do any of these fine things!
sneered. "The bill will not be;,intro-
Juced at this session of the legislature.'.
We can afford to wait, and we will wait
— we can afford it. And therefore, all
that this foolishness of yours means is
that you've lost five thousand dollars,
in spite of Margaret Dane's efforts to
put the money in your pocket!"

"For shame, William Harlow!" said
Margaret Dane herself. "You are not
worthy to look an honest man in the
face!"

She stood just within the room, pale
and tremulous.

"I could not help but hear," she said.
And then to Harlow, her words falling
like the cut of a whip, "I want you to
go away."

When they were alone, Margaret Dane
held out both hands to Senator Joe
Galloway, her eyes shining, her head
high, a look on her face that has but one
meaning when a woman looks at a man.

"You don't know how proud I am
of you, Senator Galloway!" she cried.
The next moment she was sobbing with
excitement, her face buried on her arm,
her hair brushing the ample sleeve of
Senator Galloway's old-fashioned broad-
cloth coat.

The senator drew her to him softly.

"Margaret," he said, "it wasn't any
real temptation that Harlow was holding
out to me, but you're tempting me mighty
hard now, Margaret. If I could be sure
of what I saw in your face just now I'd
—I'd ask you just one question — the
question I asked you long, long ago."

"I wish you would," said Margaret
Dane. "I want to answer it now the
way I would have answered it then, if
my dear father and mother hadn't per-
suaded me not to. It's all my fault that
life has gone wrong with us, dear heart."

"Margaret," replied Senator Joe Gallo-
way, "you musn't talk like that. Life is
going well for us after this day, thank
God!"

Washinerton

I and'

Jncoln

By John McGovern

Author of "Poems"', "The Fireside University", "The Golden Censer", etc.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

THE ANCESTOR

THE instinctive worship of our an-
cestors, that comes down to us along
with a distressing number of worse
things, makes us always ready to praise
the dead at the expense of the living.
At the same time', in excuse, there are
periods of decay, as in France from the
era in which St. Simon (the duke) begins
to write until the smallpox fell on the
Lord's annointed and the big Revolution
began. Since Grant went into the White
House, I have looked on the present age
as another one of decay. First, it was
gifts — horses and carriages, present of
a house and lot by Morgan— then it was
graft; now it is "honest graft," with the
indignant honest grafters looking us
dead'in the eyes and asking us if we
ourselves know any better way.

Casting about, over the world, is there
a really great hero? Yes, Booth of
London, although I, as much as any
free man living, am annoyed by his
terrific assaults on the bass drum and his
making of fly-time a religious and peren-
nial question. Dewey must be another
hero, to judge by the way our glorious
nation killed him off when it got jealous
of him. Roosevelt may be another, but
he is in a place more difficult than the
Russian Witte took, and he is young

and venturesome (but all great men are
venturesome). The king of England is
a fairly great man. The Japanese must
have a great man or two on hand. In
pure science the age is crowded with
giants. I dare not enter on the splendid
list. So, although we are morally as
bad as they were under Louis XIV and
Louis X, we still can point to great men
— men whose honor, courage, fortune
and genius attract the attention of good
and bad alike. Even in the rotten times,
there arose Frederick, who kept the
whole rotten world at bay after stealing
Silesia.

I am thinking all this while of George
Washington. Ought I to praise him as
an Ancestor, or for what he did actually
do? Or, ought I to contrast him with
honest grafters? — No, we need not do
that. A man named Weems painted the
Father of his Country with wings and
a gold-leaf halo, but James Parton and
other great chroniclers have corrected
the personal error of Weems. We mav,
therefore, look at George Washington
nowadays without getting out smoked
glass. And for all that, he is truly a
gigantic figure in all history.

Last November an English prince
came over here with a squadron of
battleships, and went down to Mount
Vesnon. At first they had him laying

WASHINGTON AND LINCOLN

a wreath on Washington's tomb. I did
not like that. Then they corrected the
report and had him bring away a branch
of ivy. That was all right. About
wreaths, let the prince lay one on the
grave of Robert Emmett — charity begins
at home. And what is his squadron of
battleships for?— to knock off the top
sixteen stories of the Park Row building
in New York, or to blow the stanchions
out of Pulitzer's dome. They come
around with their battleships and we go
out with ours. They say: "Look at
this." We say: "See what we've got
here." Just as small boys do — one of
the crowd says, showing his left arm,
bared, "Look-ye here: Six months in
the hospital. And here"— the right arm
—"sudden death." Then the other cham-
pion makes exactly the same maneuver.
Now, gentle reader, how far off is the
fight? Not very far.

As near as I can learn, a three-million
battleship lasts just five minutes. The
Henry George lecturers start out by say-
ing that man is a land animal— but is
he?

If I mistake not, patriotism is the
most instinctive inherent trait of the
body politic. Woe to the individual
(that is, at swarming-time) who makes
sport of that characteristic of the aver-
age man. George Washington needs no
British praise; the British records have
him down as rebel, traitor— which he
was — over there. Kaiser Wilhelm was
mistaken in establishing a statue of
Baron Trenck's Frederick the Great
at Washington ; Cyrus Field was fatuous
in putting up a monument to Major
Andre at Tarry town. Our honest graft-
ing papas have sold large consignments
of dizzy or calculating daughters to the
highest bidders of the British peerage,
but these papas are thereby not to be
ancestors here. We daily pay them their
honest graft, but we owe them no sub-
scription. We do not like them nor
their get.

Owing to George Washington, the

United States is free and independent —
and owing to him, also, somewhat
united. It is not owing to him that our
nation is obstreperous. Because of his
astonishing patience, nerve and testy
temper with subordinates, he is not
buried under an English jail — for we
must not forget that, in stuttering old
King George's time, there were over two
hundred crimes that were punishable
with death, and George Washington and
Sam Adams' crimes led all the rest —
"What! What! What! This Colonel
Washington, and this Master Adams
— what, what, what!" — it was certainly
hard on his majesty.

With so many Tories at New York,
and so many peace-at-any-price Foxites
at Philadelphia, all of them so stingy
that they would make war-contributions
only at the point of a bayonet — how did
George Washington ever free his coun-
try? Well, he was a great retreater.
Maria Theresa had such a marshal in
old Daun. Wellington was cut on the
same pattern. If the war had lasted
fourteen years instead of seven, Wash-
ington might have been found fortified
at Fort Dearborn, on the lake front at
Chicago. They got tired of chasing
him, and didn't believe he'd fight. He
swore his big hands warm at Valley
Forge; then Franklin, Beaumarchais,
Lafayette and D'Estaing gave a little
bee for his benefit near the Chesapeake
Bay, and down pounced George Wash-
ington on Yorktown. Alexander Hamil-
ton fought hard — (I do him honor, and
charge it all to Washington, who liked
him) — and presto! the colonies were
free.

Would to God no honest grafter of
the present day might take ;it to heart
if I quote what Washington said at the
time he told congress his army was
"occuyping a cold, bleak hill and sleep-
ing under frost and snow without clothes
or blankets." He wishes he could bring
"those murderers of our cause, the mon-
opolizers, forestallers and engrossers to

520

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

condign punishment. I would to God
that some of the most atrocious in each
state was hung in gibbets upon a gallows
five times as high as the one prepared
by Hainan." "Idleness, dissipation and
extravagance seem to have laid fast hold
of" the people, and "speculation, pecu-
lation and an irresistible thirst for riches
seem to have got the better of every
other consideration and almost of every
order of men; party disputes and per-
sonal quarrels are the great business of
the day."

How did the Ancestor look? Acker-
son tells us: The Ancestor was big —
looked six feet and a half— stiff as an
Indian — mighty bad temper; eye almost
white; face white; nose good and red
(very cold weather, then); throat tied
up; army boots number thirteen; gloves
had to be surveyed and made for him;
all bone and muscle and weighed only
200; it took two other men to put his
big tent in a camp-wagon; he tossed it
in with one hand. He had a great old
mouth, that Ackerson thought was pain-
ful to look at — it would have been more
painful for King George - What - What-
What to gaze on. He could hold a mus-
ket in one hand and shoot as well as
his companions could shoot with a pistol.
His finger-joints were wonders. He was
a huge eater, and to be hungry set him
in a beautiful rage (to be seen, of course,
from a distance). He drank a moderate
amount of rum.

He was better even than Henry of
Navarre. He was one of the world's
heroes — primordial, medi-ordial, post-
ordial, everlasting — astounding human
fabric, woven always but not often "on
the loud-sounding loom of time," as
Carlyle loves to quote.

When the army became suspicious of
congress and Colonel Nicola boldly asked
Washington to be dictator, he -"viewed
the letter with abhorrence," "repre-
hended it with severity." "If I am not

deceived in the knowledge of myself,
you could not have found a person to
whom your schemes are more disagree-
able."

He stood at the wharf in New York
City. "I shall be obliged," he said to
his officers, "if each of you will come
and take me by the hand." Tears were
in his eyes. He said no more, but em-
braced them one by one, in the fashion
of those days. They felt very lonesome
and fatherless when he disappeared on
the blue waters. He adjusted his ac-
counts at Philadelphia, but charged no
salary for all those years. He disbursed
about $75, ooo in all sorts of ways, and
much of this he himself had advanced.
He went into congress to read his Fare-
well. He drew his spectacles, saying,
"You see I have grown old in your ser-
vice." He walked out of the hall a
private citizen. But he had left his
people far too soon.

Ill

It had been a strange chapter. A
tobacco planter of heroic build, with
a noble self-assurance, had stopped fox-
hunting to make war. He had tried one
thing after another. A man of imperious
authority over those near to him, he had
exerted but little at a distance, because
of his distaste for the distant exercise
of power. He had fits of retreating
and starts of formidable advancing; he
had fought in mid-Winter and lain still
in mid-Summer. Some years "he had
scarcely fought at all. Yet he had made
several forays, quick movements, worthy
of either Frederick or Napoleon. He
had struck at Trenton, Monmouth and
Yorktown with the genius of the first of
captains.

What kind of a general would Wash-
ington have made if he had massed a
big army? He did not have Frederick's
heritage, opportunity, or dreadful dilem-
ma. He had at heart, I believe, more
fire than Wellington. He was at times
as cautious as Marshal Daun. He was

WASHINGTON AM) LINCOLN

521

also a founder of a new public thing —
res public il — and ranks with Ahmes in
Egypt, Moses in Israel, William in Eng-
land and Peter in Russia. But he was
in himself more like the giant-heroes of
the Dark and Middle ages, for his armor
and his lance were too heavy for his
colleagues.

. But perhaps the worst of his troubles
remained. He supposed the thirteen
colonies had at least courage enough to
fight and win the battles of peace, so he
went to Ohio to look after his private
affairs. Thereupon the communists of
Massachusetts set out to divide property,
and New England concluded to erect
a nation by itself. The best the most
of them could figure out was three
confederations, or nations, south of
Canada.

The colonies passed tariffs against each
other that even outdid what England
had tried to do to Boston. To the horror
of George Washington, the country, in
a time of peace with foreign powers, was
on the verge of anarchy. Only Virginia
paid taxes to the Continental Congress
at New York. Rhode Island and New
Hampshire were particularly mean.
While the big man at Mt. Vernon was
seriously ill with the rheumatism, there
came a feeble call for a federal conven-
tion at Philadelphia to frame a govern-
ment that would avert the morcellement
of North America. Chagrined and hu-
miliated that he should be called upon,
he traveled wearily to Philadelphia,
where, of course, they made him presi-
dent of the convention— but nearly all
of the other delegates waited for him to
arrive in Philadelphia first. Rhode
Island never came at all. No body of
men ever met with less encouragement.
The convention sat for four months in
perfect secrecy — that would be impos-
sible in this immoral age. Franklin,
Madison and Washington were there all
the hot Summer. Hamilton got away —
didn't help much until election. It
looks to me as if Jefferson at Paris fur-

ished the main idea — executive, legisla-
tive, judicial — through Madison, his dis-
ciple, who in turn received Washington's
approval on all he attempted. Jefferson
called the convention a convocation of
demi-gods, but afterward thought they
had given the president too much power
and opportunity. Washington, little
knowing his personal influence, returned
in sorrow to Mt. Vernon, expecting
anarchy. His own state developed seri-
ous opposition to his work. But all
ended well.

Because the ancestor had signed this
Constitution, it was adopted. The Con-
stitution had fixed up a big office called
the presidency, because Washington was
a big man. When the electoral college
met there was no vote for anybody else.
Every elector, therefore, came away a
hero.

Thus Washington saved his country
twice. When we read the Constitution
of the United States, we must construe
it as we would a river and harbor bill.
The fact that Delaware or Rhode Island
has two senators is just like the paving
of a dry creek in Pennsylvania at an
expense of $100,000. To avert anarchy,
the Constitution was log-rolled, and
much to Jefferson's mortification. One
should read Washington's letters roast-
ing Rhode Island and New Hampshire.
There was a long-headed Virginian
named Mason, who foresaw war in state
sovereignty. But he said, "We can at
least put it off," and they did. Then
Mason, queer man, tried to defeat the
new Constitution.

I would like to correct a widely pre-
vailing impression that Washington
leaned to Hamilton's ideas on govern-
ment. Not at all. That was the reason
Hamilton left the convention. Wash-
ington was as good a democrat as Jeffer-
son and Madison. He heartily approved
their doctrines and also had the genius
and patience and prestige to adjust those

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

doctrines somewhat to weak and selfish
human nature.

The first president of the United
States, George Washington, entered the
harbor of New York as impressively
as Cleopatra floated up the river Cyn-
dus. New York was pleased, because it
looked as if he were king. But he said:
"In our progress toward political happi-
ness my station is new." No, he was
not king. Yet he would shake hands
with nobody, and he returned no calls.
He would have liked to be called "His
Highness" because he thought he held
a sublime office. He logically appointed
Jefferson in the cabinet — Jefferson, pupil
of Rousseau and Sam Adams and Patrick
Henry. He went to Boston to see Gov-
ernor Hancock, and made poor, sick
Hancock call on him first, dead or alive,
— hence the American doctrine that in
the United States the president, repre-
senting all the people, outranks every-
body else.

One of the Jacobin editors, later on,
said Washington "maintained the seclu-
sion of a monk and the supercilious dis-
tance of a tyrant." And one of the most
grotesque things I know of was the ad-
vance of the French Citizen Genet,
carrying Equality or Death to George
Washington!

Toward the end of his two presiden-
cies he concluded to prepare his "mind
for the obloquy that disappointment and
malice" were collecting to heap on him.
So, at the next leave-taking, he was glad
to depart from one and all. But they
were not merry. They again were lone-
some. The 'hall was nearly emptied
when Washington went out; a multitude
followed him to his lodgings. And when
he saw this once more he turned and
bowed very low, and tears were in his
eyes.

I almost know I shall be pardoned
if I linger to transcribe that most
remarkable paragraph of Lawrence
Washington, the half-brother, wherein
he mirrored George Washington in

the front of Mary Washington, the
woman who bore the Ancestor: "She
awed me in the midst of her kindness.
And even now, when time has whitened
my locks, and I am the grandparent
of a second generation, I could not be-
hold that majestic woman without feel-
ings it is impossible to describe. Who-
ever has seen that awe-inspiring air and
manner, so characteristic of the Father
of His Country, will remember the
matron as she appeared when the presid-
ing genius of her well-ordered house-
hold, commanding and being obeyed."

THE DICTATOR

THAT terrible question of the equal
sovereignty of all sorts of states,
which the war-worn fathers of 1787 had
decided to leave to the armies of pos-
terity, came to a sharp focus upon the
election, as president, of a western
pioneer who believed the Union could
be maintained and at the same time that
new states should prohibit slavery. He
believed slavery was a necessary evil,
and he had not the slightest notion of
disturbing it in the South.

Thereupon the greatest civil war since
feudal times broke out, and ended with
the temporary subjugation of the South
and the liberation and enfranchisement
of the Africans. In that awful conflict
this western pioneer, Lincoln, was com-
mander-in-chief of the northern states'
armies and navy. The suspension of
the writ of habeas corpus and the erec-
tion of many military districts made him
dictator for about four years. He could,
and did, send for critics of his policy
and put them in prison, just as the czar
does.

This Dictator, personally, was one of
the "characters" of the whole world's
history. He was taller than the Ances-
tor himself — hardly anybody of the
younger generations alive today realize
how exceeding tall he was. He had

WASHINGTON AND LINCOLN

523

bigger feet and hands than Washington.
He, also, like Henry of Navarre and
George Washington, was a "strong
man." Nobody ever fooled with him.
While he was out in the spot-light of his-
tory, nobody ever got him fighting mad.

I never saw him. But I felt him
plainly — telepathically — so did every
other western Union person in the
North. I was ten years old, at Lima,
a hamlet of northwestern Indiana. He
was at Springfield, Illinois, telling stories.
Those yarns would reach our town com-
mons in a week's time. The Douglas
boys cried: "Hurrah for Lincoln, and
a rope to hang him." Then we cried:
"Hurrah for Douglas, and a nigger to
skin Mm, and a bottle of whiskey to
drown him in." We didn't believe Lin-
coln would be elected — he was too good
a fellow — he didn't put on dignity, like
the preacher, the doctor, the lawyer, the
banker.

We, of course, thought he was more of
an Abolitionist than he really was in
1860. We thought that hanging old John
Brown ought to make an Abolitionist out
of even Douglas — and practically it did.

There is a strong likeness between
Lincoln leaving Springfield for Washing-
ton and George Washington leaving Mt.
Vernon for Philadelphia, to see if there
would be a constitutional convention.
Both men were dreadfully blue — but
Lincoln was well, while Washington had
his arm in a sling from rheumatism.

Abraham Lincoln was the small boy's
idol. But we thought he was too kind.
He stood too much from Buell, McClel-
lan, Halleck. We stopped playing
sheep-in-the-pen to lament it. Young
men would go by, wounded the week
before at Shiloh or Stone River, and
we would keep on playing, pretending
we didn't see it.

Abraham Linco)n had to log-roll, too.
He was forced to give cabinet positions

to the ever envious Chase; to old Simon
Cameron, who was no saint at all; and
to Seward, to whom the nomination had
naturally belonged, because he was a
real emancipator. Lincoln had to keep
Horace Greeley in good humor. He had
two scorpions in his presidential basket,
James Gordon Bennett in the East, Brick
Pomeroy in the West. £oth exploited
the southern theory that Abraham Lin-
coln was "an anthropoid ape" — a gorilla.
That was because Lincoln was not pretty,
like Chase, or Sumner. Now Jeff Davis
was no prize-taker either, and Abraham
Lincoln could give him all sorts of odds
on kindness.

Ill

But, above all, it is totally impossible
to sketch Abraham Lincoln without his
funny stories — they were frequently
parables. For instance, when he arrived
at Washington the radicals, of course,
thought it was they who were elected.
They thought in their hearts, "Now
we've got ye," and wanted to know if
he were going to ride to the capitol
alone, or let Buchanan take him there,
which was according to the custom.
"That reminds me," said Lincoln, "of
the witness in a lawsuit, who looked like
a Quaker. When he arose to take the
oath he was asked by the judge, who
seemed puzzled, whether he wished to
swear or affirm. 'I don't care a damn
which,' said the witness."

A delegation asked the appointment
of a man in delicate health, to go to
the balmy latitudes of the Sandwich
Islands. "Gentlemen," said Lincoln,
"I am sorry that there are eight other
applicants for that place, and they are
all sicker than your man."

The office-seekers told Uncle Abe
that he had been exposed to the small-
pox. "I'm glad of it," he said, "for
now I'm going to have something I can
give to everybody."

A man wanted a pass into Richmond.
"Happy to oblige you. Fact is, though,

524

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

I've given passes to 250,000 men to go
to Richmond, and as yet not one has
reached the place."

Fairfax was raided and a brigadier-
general and a number of horses were
captured. "Well, I'm sorry on account
of the horses. I can make a brigadier-
general in five minutes, but it isn't an
easy matter to "replace no horses."

He did not like the dress coats and
kid gloves of the East. Gentlemen
wearing this sort of outfit were hotly
insistent that he should "free the
negroes." "Where are you going, my
son?" he said to Robert, seeing him in
a dress suit. The son told him he was
to attend a banquet given by Senator
Sumner in honor of Professor Long-
fellow. "Go, my son," the president
said, "but if you are able to hold a
respectable conversation for fifteen
minutes with those gentlemen, you'll
do more than your father ever did."
This Herndon tells, and I believe it.

Ill

Gradually everybody could see that it
was "a war to free the negroes." There
came draft riots in that same old city of
New York that had grieved George
Washington. There came Butternut
and Copperhead conventions. Brick
Pomeroy, old Storey at Chicago, and
Bennett at New York, (like the news-
paper called Pere ^Ducbesne at Paris in
1793) were "in a furious passion to-
night." The military criticism regard-
ing Grant and Sherman was particularly
sharp. Lincoln delivered Mason and
Slidell to England, encouraged Juarez
in Mexico; set down Vallandigham of
Ohio within the Confederate lines; mod-
erated the tone of Seward's documents;
made peace as often as war. Finally,
when the time was sufficiently ripe, he
issued the preliminary Proclamation of
Emancipation. On September 22, 1862,
he informed all regions in rebellion,
naming them and excepting certain
counties, that their slaves would be

free January i, 1863, unless they ceased
to defy the authority of the United
States. It was not abolition as a princi-
ple— it was a threat of emancipation in
rebellious regions as a measure of war.
He called the members of the cabinet
and, summarizing his thoughts and feel-
ings, he told them this proclamation and
no other would be issued. Governor
Seward, secretary of state, suggested a
slight change, which was adopted; a day
or two later he suggested still another,
which was likewise adopted. The presi-
dent asked the governor why he had not
mentioned both changes at once, but
Governor Seward did not seem to give
a satisfactory answer and left the room.

"Seward," said Lincoln, "reminds
me of a hired man who came to a
farmer and told him that one of a favor-
ite yoke of oxen had fallen down dead.
After a pause, the hired man added:
'And the other ox in that team is dead,
too.' 'Why didn't you tell me at once
that both the oxen were dead?' said the
farmer. 'Because I didn't want to hurt
you by telling you too much at one
time.' "

He was more than pleased with the
bravery shown by the colored regiments
at Petersburg, for he had been bitterly
opposed in commissioning them. He
was talking to Grant. "I think, general,
we can say of the black boys what a
country fellow who was an old-time
abolitionist in Illinois said when he went
went to a theater in Chicago and saw
Forrest playing 'Othello.' He didn't
know the tragedian was a white man
blacked up for the purpose. After the
play was over, the folks who had invited
him to go to the show wanted to know
what he thought of the actors, and he
said: 'Waal, layin' aside all sectional
prejudices and any partiality I may have
for the race, durned if I don't think the
nigger held his own with any on 'em.' '

As Abraham Lincoln entered Rich-
mond, the picture of the freed slaves
gathering about him and hailing him

WASHINGTON AND LINCOLN

525

with sharp cries as their deliverer, would
have convinced anybody that freedom is
a precious thing in the opinion of those
who have been denied it.

They say he never forgot a face.
When the soldiers came back after the
war, a good many of them went to see
Old Abe, and there is a story to show
how tell he was. In 1840 he had taken
dinner with a Sanagmon County farmer.
Now this "embattled farmer" shook
hands with the triumphant presi-
dent.

"Yes," said Lincoln, "I remember you.
You used to live on the Danville road.
I took dinner with you when I was run-
ning for the legislature. I recollect that
we stood talking at the barnyard gate
while I sharpened my jackknife."
"Ya-as," said the old soldier, "so you
did. But, say, wherever did ye put that
whetstone? I looked for it a C'zen
times, but I never could find it after the
day you used it. We 'lowed as how
mebby you took it along with ye."
"No," said Lincoln, "I put it on top
of that gate-post — that high one."
"Well, mebby you did, now. Couldn't
nobody else have put it up there, and
none of us ever thought to look up there
for it." The soldier was soon at home.
He wrote at once to his friend Abe
Lincoln that he had found the whetstone
on top of the tall post, where it had lain
untouched for fifteen years, and he did
not think it would ever be lost
again.

I have been witness of the sincere
public grief at the times of the death of
McKinley, Grant and Garfield, but now
let me speak of the effect of Booth's
deed. The people had been schooled
in blood; the ghastly deeds of war were
come to be familiar. But that Father
Abraham was no more! — that an assas-
sin, instead of bearing away the aid and
consolation of Father Abraham, had slain
him! — it surpassed even the infernal
realities of war. There settled over the
land a period of such gloom as history
does not record of other epochs and
ages. On the Sunday following, the
Wednesday following, through the slow
weeks thereafter, men heard the pas-
sionate sobbings of their eloquent of
speech, and truly were broken-hearted in
the general woe. It was like the Last
Day is painted. It seemed the air was
thick and sulphurous. Men were too
sick with sorrow to call for vengeance,
or to pronounce the name of the
wretched man who had betrayed his race.
It was an awful crime against Mercy,
Charity, Peace— all the sweet angels.

Thus suddenly passed a great moral
hero. He, more than any other man of
whom the books preserve long narra-
tives, was a living example of the efficacy
of gentleness and moral suasion as auxil-
iaries of force and arms. In all our cata-
logues of men he stands as the foremost
personal example of patience and fore-
bearance. Patriots named him their
savior; slaves hailed him their liberator;
orphans considered him their father.

Without extinction is Liberty ! without retrograde is Equality t

They live in the feelings of young men, and the best women ;

Not for nothing have the indomitable heads of the Earth been always ready to fall for

Liberty.

* * * * * *

For the Great Idea !

That, O my brethren, — that is the mission of Poets.

— Walt Whitman ( " Marches Nou the War is

MY GOURDS ON EXHIBITION

GOURDS AND THEIR USES

By Kate Sanborn

Author of "Adopting An Abandoned Farm," etc
"BREEZY MEADOWS," METCALI, MASSACHUSETTS

GOURDS are queer things, and very
little has been written about them;
indeed I could find but one article in
Poole's invaluable Index, and that was
by Grant Allen, the English scientist.
He devoted several pages to Gourds and
Bottles, beginning with a description of
his purchase of two gourd-shaped vases
at a Moorish shop. At the wine shop
next door he discovered a string of gourds
which seemed to have been models for
the Kabyle vases. He bought two of these
and hung them up as a perpetual re-
minder of the true origin of all bottles
known either to barbarous or civilized
peoples. He says that even the familiar
brown glass receptacle out of which we
pour Bass's beer derives its shape ulti-
mately from the Mediterranean gourd;
and every other form of bottle in the
known world is equally based, in the
last report, upon some member of the
gourd family.

Gourds have never been properly

recognized, for on them, with their close
congeners, the tropical calabashes, the
entire art and mystery of pottery ulti-
mately depend. Their shapes are mani-
fold; there is the common, double-bulg-
ing form, constricted in the middle — the
little bulb above and the big one below,
usd so frequently as a water bottle; the
flask shape and the bowl; egg shapes
from the size of a hen's egg to that
of an ostrich; some resemble pears,
others are close imitations of oranges in
size and color; some look like cucum-
bers and a few aspire to a trombone
effect. Besides, gourds, while growing,
can be made to assume almost any de-
sired form by tying strings or wire
around their rind. Mr. Allen says he
has seen gourds treated in this manner
which have been twisted into the sem-
blance of powder-horns or wallets, and
others which have been induced to ring
themselves 'round half a dozen times
over till they looked like beads on a

GOURDS AND THEIR USES

527

necklace. The African calabashes are
often six feet long and eighteen inches
around.

The gourd is a cucumber by family,
belonging to the same great group as the
melon, the pumpkin, and the vegetable
marrow, all annuals, all with tremendous
vegetative energy. Whittier evidently
knew this, for in his poem on "The
Pumpkin" he says:

"O, greenly fair in the lands of the sun,
The vines of the gourd and the rich
melon run."

"Probably man's earliest lesson in the
fictile art was accidental; savages put-
ting water to warm in a gourd, over the
camp-fire, would smear wet clay on the
bottom, to keep it from burning; when
the clay was fine enough, it would form
a mold, bake hard in shape and be used
again and again in the same way, and at
last be used more than the original
gourd, which would soon be burnt out."
So cooking utensils of various shapes
easily originated.

At the close of his most interesting
article, Grant Allen says: "I believe it
would be possible so to arrange all the
keramic products of other nations in a
great museum, along a series of diver-
gent radial lines from certain fixed cen-
ters, that the common origin of all from
each special sort of gourd or calabash
would become immediately obvious to
the most casual observer." It is refresh-
ing to me to get an entirely new idea
like that, and I gladly pass it along with
my own little experience.

Walking along Broadway one October
afternoon, I was attracted by a collection
of large gourds dug out for drinking-
cups, dippers, vases and bottles and for
sale on a little stand by a street vendor.
1 purchased two, and use one as a hang-
ing basket for vines and the other as
a dipper to water the flowers in my tiny
conservatory. This set me to looking up
gourds, and precious little could I find.

The Bible and Shakespeare each con-

tribute; six verses are devoted to the
gourd which protected Jonah, and in
Shakespeare's time loaded dice were
called gourds. In the "Merry Wives of
Windsor," we read:

For gourd and fulham holds
And "high" and "low" beguile the rich and
poor.

In Orlando Furioso we learn that
gourds were used in the Middle Ages for
corks.

Food for the departed is left by New
Zealanders in sacred calabashes.

A traveler assures us that there is no-
thing more exhilarating than the clang of
gourds, half a dozen of them, tossing in
the air, and being beaten by savage
palms in a hula-hula dance.

Alice Morse Earle, in her "Home Life
in Colonial Days," says that gourds were
plentiful on the farm, and gathered with
care, that the hard-shelled fruit might
be shaped into simple drinking-cups.
In Elizabeth's time silver cups were
made in the shape of these gourds.
Gourd shells made capital skimmers,
dippers and bottles.

Mrs. Clay of Alabama, in her book,
"A Belle of the Fifties," says while re-
counting the hardships endured by
southern women during the very uncivil
Civil War: "For the making of our
toilettes, we discovered the value of
certain gourds when used as wash-cloths.
Their wearing qualities were wonderful;
the more one used them, the softer they
became."

Gourds are especially cultivated in
China, for they are emblems of happiness
and it was the custom of the Empress to
offer one with her own white hands to
each of the dignitaries who come to pay
his court to her, in exchange for the
magnificent presents he brought her. So
says Pierre Loti in his story of "The
Last Days of Pekin."

One curious variety is the Mock
Orange, or Chili-Coyote, or the Calaba-
zilla. The rough, ill-smelling foliage of

528

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

A PRIZE TO THE GOURD - RAISER WHO BEATS THIS

the Chili-Coyote is a common sight in
California, where it is found trailing over
many a field; but woe to the negligent
farmer who allows the pest to get foot-
hold, for it will cost him a small fortune
to eradicate it. It sends down into the
earth an enormous root six feet long
and often as broad. When the gourds
are ripe, these vines look like the dump-
ing ground for numerous poor, discarded
oranges.

Notwithstanding its unsavory charac-
ter, the various parts of this vine are

put to use, especially among the Span-
ish-Californians and Indians. The root
is a purgative more powerful thai;
croton-oil; when pounded to a pulp it
is used as a soap which cleanses as
nothing else can. The leaves are highly
valued for medicinal purposes and
the pulp of the green fruit, mixed
with soap, is said to remove stains
from clothing. The Indians eat the
seeds when ground and made into
a mush. The early Calif ornian women
used the gourds as darning balls.

GOURDS AND THEIR USES

529

Do you want to raise some gourds?
Any florist's catalogue will furnish a long
list from which to select. I bought all
the varieties, and the result was some-
thing amazing. All responded nobly,
true to description. Large, very large,
small, tiny and medium sizes — the shapes
were wonderful and the colors beautiful.
I exhibited some of the most curious at
a country fair where they received admir-
ing attention, for few knew what they
were. I had a lot dug out for dippers,
cups, vases, and how pretty vines looked
peeping out from the holes in a large
specimen which measured nearly a yard
in circumference at the largest part, six-
teen inches at the neck and seven a^
the top. Many were given to friends for
darning balls; the pear-shaped beauties
striped in green, yellow and a white
line, I found would take an autograph
and a quotation, and so served as sou-
venirs of a visit to Breezy Meadows;
a la the Chinese Empress.

I suggest that some money could be
made by cultivating gourds; training
them in odd or artistic shapes, then re-
moving the pulp from the shells, and
so revive the popularity and usefulness
of these interesting growths. For two
years I have trained the common pump-
kin as a running vine on a wire trellis;
the blossoms are numerous and brilliantly
effective, while the gorgeous pumpkins
would hang securely from a slender stalk
apparently as content as when on the
ground, half buried in leaves. Do try
that another Spring; you will be de-
lighted.

I read that the size of a pumpkin
ranges from the dimensions of an apple
to fifty or seventy pounds in weight. In
England, it has been suggested that rail-
way banks might be made productive of
a great quantity of human food by plant-
ing them with gourds, as pumpkins and
cucumbers.

And that's all I know of this subject.

'WE, THE PEOPLE'

By Sarah D. Hobart

FALL RIVER, WISCONSIN

FOR our own birthright and the right of those,
Our children's children, who shall fill our place,

To shield the land from rupture and disgrace,
And turn undaunted faces to her foes, —
We claim that freedom which our laws disclose

As meet and best for all the human race.

The primal instinct nothing can efface
That wakes the slave from shamefulest repose.
We will be free! No tyrant's clanking chain

Shall bind and deaden heart and brain and soul.
For each and all the blessing shall remain

Blending discordance in one perfect whole.
And all the hapless, through their loss and pain,

Shall strive with us toward the far-off goal.

II
Because of all the falsehood and deceit

That mark the records of the ages past, —

The dawning day with darkness overcast,
The hope whose promise only came to fleet, —
We spread a pathway for the nation's feet,

A glorious way that shall forever last.

With ours the common lot of all is cast,
The march is joined and there is no retreat.
We will be true. From farthest sea to sea,

Our word shall stand unchallenged, unforsworn:
On outmost heights the banner of the free

For truth and right shall be forever borne :
Our righteous laws, our ultimate decree,

Shall be the refuge of the most forlorn

III
Because of all the travail and the woe

Through which the race has passed to reach this height,

We will not with our evil cloud the light
That dawned on ruined altars long ago.
Each for the rest, our human tide shall flow

A mighty flood against the walls of night;

And wrong shall perish in its own despite,
And greed lie buried in its overthrow.
We will be just; no soul within our bound

Shall be defrauded of his manly due;
No cringing, goaded slave shall here be found;

No victim for requital vainly sue.
Our widening lands shall all be hallowed ground

Bearing a people holy, brave and true.

K.-K-K

By C. W. Tyler

CLARKSVILLE, TENNESSEE

PREFACE

FEW intelligent persons in this country
can have failed to note the rapid
growth of mob law among us in the last
few years. Formerly the punishment of
offenders was the business of the courts,
and illegal executions in the name of
justice were never resorted to except in
rare instances when some deed of peculiar
atrocity stirred an entire community to
frenzy. Now human beings are fre-
quently sent out of the world by hasty
assemblages of excited men, not only in
open defiance of the authorities but often
where the offense charged would not
have been punishable with death under
the law. In some instances, to our
shame as a people be it said, the irre-
sponsible mob has burned helpless cap-

tives at the stake, thus introducing to an
enlightened country a practice hitherto
unknown except among the most cruel
savages.

Surely the time has come when seri-
ous inquiry should be made into the
causes back of this rapidly growing evil,
with the view of staying its further pro-
gress if possible. Having been for a
number of years the judge of a court in
my state with criminal jurisdiction. I
have become convinced that the only
reason why good citizens countenance
mob violence is that they have lost faith
in the ability of the courts to deal effec-
tually with crime. They weary of the
delay attending criminal prosecutions,
and the frequent failure of justice in the

532

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

end exasperates them. If this be true
then the remedy for mob law is to sub-
stitute for it speedy trial and prompt
punishment of all offenders, through
our regularly established courts of
justice.

In dealing with criminals, we had for
the present better err on the side of too
much despatch than to pursue further
the procrastinating methods that have
awakened a protest in the minds of thou-
sands of the soberest men in the country,
and brought some portions of our wide
republic to the verge of anarchy.

In framing the present story it was
my purpose to show on the one hand
hand how easily the vengeance of a mob
may be misplaced, and on the other how
provoking to the patience of those inter-
ested in the suppression of crime and the
preservation of order must be the pro-
gress of a modern criminal trial as it
drags its slow length along through the
courts. Some of the incidents here
narrated are real, others fictitious, and
I have endeavored to weave them all into

a story that, while carrying a moral
with it, would not be without interest to
the general reader. The name of the
book, I may add, was taken from that
of a secret society, which, soon after the
close of the Civil War, was organized in
my community for the purpose of admin-
istering speedy justice to evil-doers at
a time when this end could not be
attained through the courts. The title,
therefore, when chosen, was not without
significance to me, though doubtless it
will be meaningless to most of those who
glance over my pages.

I am aware of the fact that this story
lacks the polish it would have possessed
had it come from more skillful hands.
It was written, however, for the honest
purpose of striking at a grave existing
evil, and, such as it is, I send it forth
without apology, hoping it may find a
few friends among the millions of readers
in this great country, and be in the end
productive of some good.

The Author

IN WHICH THE READER IS TAKEN TO A GOODLY LAND
AND INTRODUCED TO PLEASANT COMPANY

IF you ever take occasion to descend
the Cumberland river by steamer from
Nashville, Tennesse, you will observe
on the right bank of that picturesque
stream, not far from the rapids called
Harpeth Shoals, a rolling tract of high-
lands extending for some distance along
your route and stretching as far back
into the interior as the eye can reach.
This highland territory is known to the
dwellers within its borders and the good
folk of the region roundabout as "The
Marrowbone Hills." It embraces a
considerable expanse of country, but
as it recedes northwardly narrows some
distance out from the river into a long

and precipitous neck of upland, which,
for some mysterious reason, has been
dubbed "Paradise Ridge." I say for
some mysterious reason this rugged ele
vation has been so designated, but the
old settlers thereabouts will tell you that
the "movers," trekking from Carolina
and Virginia, a hundred years ago, and
encountering this formidable obstacle in
their path, named it "Paradise Ridge"
in fine scorn. Lumbering farm wagons,
often a dozen or more together, consti-
tuted the transportation trains of that
early period, and to surmount this frown-
ing barrier with such a vehicle, well
laden with wife, children and. h

THE K. K. K.

533

goods, was a feat scarcely paralleled by
the notable one of Bonaparte's crossing
the Alps. In spite of vigorous applica-
tion of the lash and the liberal use of
profanity, the desperate teams often
stalled here oh the upward climb, and
when the summit at last was reached
and the descent on the opposite side
begun, the situation was found to be
changed by no means for the better.

Notwithstanding locked wheels and
constant tugging against the breeching
on the part of the hindmost mules, the
conveyance now went forward at head-
long rate, bumping against huge boul-
ders, and scattering the fearful house-
wife's plunder, with now and then a few
of the children, promiscuously along the
route. Oftentimes spokes and tires
were smashed, axles broken, or tongues
shattered, and it took days to mend up
and start afresh on the journey to a new
home in the wilderness. All this was in
the good old times that we dream so
fondly about, and which nobody in his
senses would like to have restored. The
railroad from St. Louis to Nashville now
cleaves in twain this exasperating Para-
dise Ridge, and the sleepy traveler may
glide smoothly down from Ridgetop to
Baker's, at the foot, without ever being
aroused from his nap.

The Marrowbone Hills, however, lie
back of the narrow ridge just described,
which stretches out from among them
like the crooked handle of a gourd. The
hill country proper is a pleasant land,
vhere moderate heights and fertile
valleys, wooded tracts, cleared fields
and running waters greet the eye of the
traveler in agreeable diversity. The
soil, even on the steep hillsides, yields
a fair return to honest labor, and the
atmosphere, owing to the general eleva-
tion of the country, is bracing and
healthy nearly all the year 'round. The
plain farmer folk who till the earth and
spend their days here seldom achieve,
or aspire to, great wealth, but they con-
stitute a manly class who hold their

heads up and generally manage — as
they themselves frequently boast — to
get through life without begging, bor-
rowing or stealing.

Close to the borders of this hill region
may be seen a singular succession of
high, conical mounds, called knobs;
and beyond these stretches a broad,
level expanse of country as productive
and beautiful to the eye as ever the crow
flew over. In this lowland territory the
dwellers are more pretentious than on
the hills, and the soil for the most part
is cultivated by negroes. These, as else-
where at the South, constitute a class to
themselves, and would prove more satis-
factory as laborers but for their unfor-
tunate propensity to shift their dwelling
places with a frequency that is discour-
aging to the land-owner, and oftentimes
baffling to the would-be collectors of poll
tax. As it is, the relation between the
two races is by no means unkindly,
though the negroes are a little too sus-
picious of the good intentions of the
whites, and the latter, as a rule, too
prone to charge up to the inferior race
all offenses of whatever description that
cannot be immediately traced to some
other source.

At the time when my story begins —
for I may as well confess now to the
gentle reader that it is my purpose to
inflict upon him a narrative in which
fact is more or less mingled with fic-
tion— there stood within the confines
of the hill country, but not far from the
border line, the substantial log house of
an old woman who had dwelt there in
peace and comparative comfort nearly
all her days. She owned a snug little
farm about her home, or rather, had
a life interest in the property, for the
fee at her death vested in her grand-
daughter, a comely girl of some eighteen
years, who dwelt with her. The old
lady, Mrs. Susan Bascombe, was alto-
gether illiterate, but honest, indepen-
dent, courageous beyond most of her
sex, and possessed of a fund of native

534

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

good sense which stood her often in
hand when mere "book-1'arnin' " would
have been of no avail. She was quite
an original character — this Widow Bas-
combe, as she was usually called — de-
cidedly sharp-tongued when she fancied
occasion demanded, but as a general
thing kindly in her deportment toward
others and very popular with her neigh-
bors.

Her granddaughter and namesake
was, I make bold to say, as handsome
and spirited a damsel as could have
been found within the length and breadth
of the Marrowbone Hills, or, for that
matter, within the whole country far and
near, without restriction of territory.
The father and mother of the girl had
both died when she was a wee thing and
left her to the care of the old lady, who
had raised her and endeavored to train
her up in the way she should go. As
she grew to womanhood the neighbors
about did not fail to note that she had
inherited from her grandmother a tall
and shapely person and that she resem-
bled the old widow also in being the
possessor of a strong character, of which
self-reliance constituted the principal
trait. In one particular the girl had
decidedly the advantage of the eider
female, and that was in the matter of
education. She had trotted back and
forth as a child to the rough log school-
house in her neighborhood — wagging
often under a load of books that would
have borne her down if she had not been
strong for her years — and had so ac-
quired smattering information upon
many subjects and genuine knowledge
of a few. She was quick-witted, like
her grandmother, and very ambitious, so
that the pupil who stood above her in
her classes was required to rise early
and retire late. At this backwoods insti-
tution little Sue Bascombe, having no
sensational novels to devour, acquired
a taste for solid reading which she after-
ward cultivated at home in the midst of
increasing household duties. By the

time she had donned long skirts and
abandoned her school satchel she was
quite a superior sort of young person,
mentally as well as physically, and
could more justly have been deemed
thoroughly accomplished than many a
graduate from a famed city academy.

The house where the two women
dwelt was a double log structure with
an open passageway between the lower
rooms, such as are still quite common
in that part of the country. It was
a storey and a half high and the two
contracted apartments above were used,
the one as a general lumber room, the
other as a snug dormitory, where the
grateful wayfarer was allowed to repose
in a fat feather-bed, with about six
inches of breathing space betwixt his
nose and the well-seasoned rafters over-
head. The genteel room of the mansion
was below and across the open passage-
way from that occupied by the widow
and her granddaughter. This special
company room had great brass dog-irons
on the hearth, in the well-scrubbed
knobs of which one might detect his
own countenance dancing about when
the fire was briskly ablaze. There was
a high-post bed here, with a canopy
overhead, which was seldom occupied,
and indeed was kept more for ornament
than utility. A young man of scholas-
tic attainments and solemn demeanor
boarded with the family during the
pedagogic months of the year; but
though he was permitted to use the
company room for chat and study dur-
ing his sojourn, he was required always
to betake himself to the cuddy apart
ment upstairs when bedtime came. He
was now absent upon his Summer vaca-
tion, whiling away the time with some
distant relatives who had consented to
supply him with food and lodging for
the benefit of his society.

The schoolmaster being away, the old
lady and her granddaughter were left
alone in the house, but they were not
apprehensive of danger or specially

THE K. K. K.

535

lonely, for they were not timid and
had come to derive a good deal of com-
fort from each other's society. Besides,
there were kindly neighbors scattered
around them, and visits from one or
more of these was an almost daily oc-
currence. On the widow's farm, about
a half-mile from the dwelling, a negro
named Sandy Kinchen lived in a single-
room cabin with his wife and one child.
His closest friend was a little dog of
the fox-terrier variety, and the general
opinion in regard to them both was that
they were no better than they should be.
This Kinchen, with his dog at his heels,
would tramp the country all night in
search of 'coons and 'possums, or on
worse business, but could seldom be in-
duced to tread a corn furrow or tobacco
row by day with the view of paying his
rent or earning a support for his family.
He was indeed a worthless fellow, and
little thought of by the neighbors, many
of whom expressed surprise that the old
widow would suffer him to loaf about
on her premises. Leaving his laziness
out of the question, however, no worse
was suspected of him as yet than that
he cherished an undue fondness for
watermelons not grown in his own patch
and chickens that roosted away from his
wife's hen-house.

At the time of the year which I write
— it was an evening in early June — the
leaves on the trees had but recently
come to full growth and there was a
newness and freshness about the verdure
everywhere that presently would be
dulled by the scorching heat of Sum-
mer and the dust from the roads and
fields. The sun had just disappeared
behind the crest of a high hill that
loomed up inr ely back of the old

farm-house and a deep shadow had crept
across the yard and was now encroach-
ing upon a little piece of meadow land
that lay in front beyond the highway.
Sue Bascombe had stood for some min-
utes in the open doorway of the family
room, looking down the road toward the

level country, as if she expected some
one to approach from that direction.
Near the center of the room her grand-
mother sat in a split-bottomed chair
smoking a cob pipe. Early as the hour
was, the two had supped and all evi-
dences of the evening meal had been
cleared away. The girl stood in the
open doorway with her arms folded and
her head resting carelessly against the
framework on her right. She was trim
and square-shouldered, with a good suit
of black hair and eyes to match. A
stranger could not have failed to notice
the striking resemblance between herself
and grandmother, notwithstanding the
great disparity in their ages.

"You needn't look so hard, Sue," re-
marked the old lady, removing the pipe
from her mouth as she spoke. "Look-
ing won't fetch him, child."

"I'm not trying to fetch him," an-
swered the girl with a trace of resent-
ment at the insinuation, "If he doesn't
want to come, he can stay away."

The old woman laughed. "Somebody
would have a fit of the blues ef he
did," she replied, and began sucking
at her pipe-stem again.

The girl made no answer. Her grand-
mother smoked on in silence a while
longer. Then she continued between
whiffs: "Wai, wal, honey, I ain't a
blamin' you for bein' a little anxious:
I 'members the time when I'd a been
anxious too ef my beau hadn't turned
up jest at the very minute he sot. Gals
is gals; gals is gals."

"I'm not anxious, Granny," remarked
the young lady in the doorway.

"Naw, you ain't, and yit you is. Wal,
wal, I used to be a gal myself, and I
find fault with no person for bein' a gal.
Times has changed, though, sence I was
a gal. Laws a mussy, jess to think how
times has changed. The Pearsons, they
used to be regular high-flyers, and your
grandpappy, you know, he was a over-
seer—' '

"I hope he was a good one," inter-

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

jected Sue, who had family pride of the
right sort.

"That's what he was," replied the old
woman promptly. "He was giv' up to
be the best in all the country. Up and
down, far and wide, there wa'n't no bet-
ter overseer than Lemuel Bascombe, and
them that says to the contrary tells what
ain't so. Times has changed, though,
as I was a sayin'; times has changed.
Laws a mussy, jess to think of it! This
here world moves round and round; and
some goes up while some comes down.
That's a true word as ever was spoke.
Your grandpappy, Lemuel Bascombe —
folks called him Lem for short — used
to oversee for Ran Pearson's daddy.
That was in the old times, child, the old
times. One lived at the big house then
and t'other at the quarter. I remember
it all as well as if it had been yistiddy.
Mighty stuck up, I tell you, was ole
Mis Pearson, Ran's mammy; mighty
stuck up; mighty stuck up. When she
driv by in her carriage she hilt her head
high, and was jess as like not to speak
to a body as to speak. Proud she was,
I tell you, and her ways was ways of
grandeur. That was in the long time
ago, and now here's her own dear son
a hitchin' his hoss at my gate and
a comin' in to keep company with my
granddarter. Wai, wal; will wonders
never cease?"

"He needn't come, I'm sure, unless
he wants to," retorted Miss Sue, tossing
her head.

"Mighty uppish, mighty uppish)" re-
plied old Mrs. Bascombe, surveying her
granddaughter, however, with consider-
able pride as she spoke. 'Wal, wal;
we'll let bygones be bygones — that's the
best way. Ran Pearson is a clever fel-
low, Sue; and it never hurt anybody yit
that he come of a good fambly. Even
a dog of good breed is better' n a low-
down cur. Ran is a gentleman, a gen-
tleman born, and a gentleman in his
ways, and them what says to the contrary
tells what ain't so. To be sho, to be

sho, he's gittin' along now to be con-
siderable of a old bachelor, considerable
of a old bachelor, but he can't help
that."

"He's not forty yet," replied the girl.

"Ef he ain't," replied the old woman,
"he's so nigh thar ain't no fun in it.
Lemme see," taking her pipe from her
mouth to reflect, "come thirty-nine year
next November — or was it thirty-eight?
But that's neither here nor thar. Ran is
old enough to be stiddy, and yit he ain't
hurt with age. That much anybody can
say for him and tell no lie. He ain't
put on specks yit and he's still supple
in his j'ints; but he's gittin' along, git-
tin' along, Ran is. Ef him and a right
spry young chap was sparkin' the same
gal, I'm afraid he'd git left; but when
it's a race 'twixt him and a poke-easy
fellow like the schoolmarster — I'll lay
my last, dollar on Ran."

"The schoolmaster, fiddlesticks,"
rejoined the young lady impatiently.
"Who's thinking of him?"

"Ah, never mind, never mind," an-
swered the old woman. "I tell you
what—"

"What does he care for me, I'd like
to know?" interrupted the girl.

"He cares a heap for you," replied
her grandmother, "and you know it as
well as you know you're standin' thar."

"He wouldn't give a page of his dry
Latin and Greek for the best girl in
Marrowbone Hills:" said Miss Sue.

"He'd put all his books in a pile and
burn 'em for Sue Bascombe; and you
needn't let on like you don't think he
would," replied the old lady.

"He's downright stupid," cried Miss
Sue from her place i" the doorway.
"He's stupid as a^ «..„ for all he's so
dreadfully wise."

"He's a fine young fellow," answered
old Mrs. Bascombe, "and the best gal
in the country might be proud to git
him."

"I wouldn't give a snap of my finger
for him," said Sue, suiting the action

THE K. K. K.

537

to the word, and snapping her middle
finger sharply against her thumb.

"You mout go further and do wuss,"
retorted the old woman, who never
allowed herself to be worsted in debate
if she could help it.

What further would have followed
between these two high-spirited females
must forever remain a matter of conjec-
ture, for at this moment the sound of
a horse's feet was heard up the road and
the girl abruptly left the doorway. She
lit a candle that stood on a little shelf
against the wall — it was now growing
dark in the room — and taking up a
brush and comb began to arrange her
hair. She did not need to primp much,
for she had been expecting her visitor,
but a few touches at the last moment
are never out of place. The mirror
before which she stood was an old-
fashioned looking-glass, with two ships
depicted at the top sailing over a singu-
larly blue sea. About half her figure
was reflected in this, and she had no
reason to be dissatisfied with the hurried
inspection she took of her person. After
a. few moments spent in tidying, she blew
out the candle, and, crossing the open
passageway into the spare room, lit a
lamp that stood on a center table there.
The old woman, without invitation, arose
and followed her. She was fond of
company, and she didn't believe in
leaving unmarried people of different
sexes to themse4ves. She took her seat
in a large arm-chair by the lamp and
began knitting industriously, rocking
back and forth as she did so. Sue went
to the window curtains and gave them
a shake, though there wasn't anything
specially the matter with them. She
then searched the corners of the room
with a keen eye for cobwebs, but none
was visible. A step was now heard in
the passage, and afterward a rap on
the bare floor, made with the heavy end
of a riding-whip or the heel of a boot.

"Come in," cried Sue.

The visitor who entered at this invita-

tion looked to be forty years of age, if
he wasn't. The hair on the summit of
his head was decidedly thin, so much
so that his pate glistened through it in
places, but it could not be fairly said
as yet that he was bald. His face was
serious — a good, honest face one would
say — and in manner he was rather re-
tiring. Indeed, there was a sort of stiff-
ness about him as he returned their salu-
tation, which indicated that he was not
entirely at ease in company; and this
perhaps was the highest compliment he
could have paid those on whom he had
called. It was convincing proof that
while the old woman might have con-
sidered it a half-condescension on his
part to visit them, there was no such
idea predominant in his own mind.
Randolph Pearson always felt some-
what constrained in the presence of
females, for he had never been a society
man. His father had been wealthy, but
extravagant, and the son at his death
inherited from him a comparatively small
patrimony. He had added to this ma-
terially, however, by frugality, sobriety
and strict attention to his business, and
by pursuing this course for a number of
years had finally won for himself among
the good ladies of the vicinity the double
reputation of being a desirable catch and
a confirmed old bachelor. He had begun
casting a wistful eye upon the Bascombe
girl while she was yet tramping to and
from the country school-house, loaded
down with books. When she grew up
to be a young lady, and a handsome one
to boot, he made bold to call upon her,
and as this was a startling step for
a man of his habits, his first visit set
the tongue of rumor wagging in his
neighborhood most industriously.

Between two entertaining females, Mr.
Pearson managed on this occasion to
while away the time quite agreeably.
He discoursed with the old lady about
the best method of protecting her fowls
from varmints and the safest preventive
against the ravages of the potato bug in

538

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

her garden. He listened politely while
she indulged in reminiscences of the
days when her husband — Lem Bas-
combe, folks called him — was overseer
for his father.

"Terbacker brought better riggers them
times than nowadays. All you had to
do was to haul it to the river, and it
floated down natural to New Ileens.
Now it's got to be loaded on the steam
cars, and drug across the country away
off to New Yark, and that costs money.
Three acres of terbacker them times was
a average crop for a field hand, and he
had to tend it or take the consequences.
Now, bless your life, niggers is too gen-
teel to sile thar fingers with suckers and
horn-worms. 'Stidder puttin' in thar
best licks on the farm, they go trapesing
about with guns, shootin' rabbits and
plottin' all manner of devilment agin
the whites."

Miss Sue was a party to much of the
above promiscuous talk, occasionally
agreeing with her grandmother, some-
times taking issue with her stoutly. Now
and then a subject was sprung where
the discourse for a time was necessarily
between the damsel and her steady-going
wooer, but on the whole it would have
been difficult to tell from the drift of

the talk whether Pearson's visit was to
the old lady, the young lady, or the
family. He remained until nine o'clock
— which is considered honest bedtime in
the Marrowbone Hills — and when he
took his departure the girl accompanied
him out to the stile block. There pre-
sumably they had some chat of a nature
customary and proper between bachelor
and maiden who contemplate establish-
ing between themselves a firmer and
more lasting union. Even this confi-
dential confab, however, was of no great
duration, and, after the lapse of a fur-
ther half-hour, the visitor mounted and
rode away. The girl stood at the fence
till the sound of the horse's feet had died
away in the distance. Then she walked
slowly back to the house. She fastened
the windows down in the spare room, ex-
tinguished the light and locked the door.
This done, she crossed the passageway
to the apartment occupied by herself
and grandmother. The old lady had
preceded her and was now preparing for
bed; but the girl took her stand again
in the open doorway, as she had done
in the early evening. The night was
pleasant, and not very dark. There
were stars a-plenty in the blue vault of
the sky, but no moon.

A MIDNIGHT ALARM

THE girl stood in the doorway and
looked up at the sky and out into the
dim night for some time. "Somehow,
I feel lonesome tonight, Granny," she
said, after a while, without turning her
head. "I wonder what's the matter with
me?"

"Go to bed, go to bed," said the old
woman, "and git up early in the mornin',
an' let's have breakfast betimes."

The girl made no reply, but continued
looking out across the little meadow in
front of the house. She could discern

dim outlines beyond, but no objects
could be distinguished. A screech-owl,
from a dead tree in the wood, set up his
harrowing cry.

"Heigho," said the girl, after a silence
of some minutes, "somehow I feel lone-
some tonight."

"Go to bed, go to bed," repeated the
old woman. "Thar ain't but two ways
to drive off a lonesome feel. One is to
drap off to sleep and furgit it; t'other is
to lay to and work like the mischief."

"What was that Mr. Pearson said

THE K. K. K.

539

about the robbers breaking into Lips-
combe's house and stealing his watch
and money?"

"He said they done it, that's all."

"Tramps?" inquired the girl.

"Niggers," answered the old woman.

"I know in reason they was niggers.
In these parts they is gettin' wuss and
wuss. They always would take little
things when nobody wa'n't lookin'.
Now they break in at night and rob and
murder, and the Lord knows what. I
dunno what the country is a comin' to."

"It was last Saturday night, he said."

"Yes, Sadday night, Sadday night.
That's the devil's own night. Low-lived
folks makes out to kinder behave they-
selves during the week, but let Sadday
night come and they loads up on mean
whiskey and plays the wild. Whiskey
and the devil go together, and have done
so sence the world begun."

"This is Saturday night, Granny."

"So 'tis, so 'tis. I clean forgot. Wai,
mark my words; the next time you read
your paper you'll find whar some devil-
ment's been did tonight. Thar was Abe
Standfield, for an insty, a ridin' home
on a Sadday night, and shot down dead
from a cornder of the fence. Johnny
Allbright was tuck up for it and it went
pooty hard with him."

"Did they hang him?"
. "Naw, naw; naw, naw. They see-
sawed and seesawed 'twixt courts and
courts with him. They drug him here
and thar, and lawyers, judges, witnesses
and clerks all sot on him more times 'n
I've got fingers and toes. They worried
him till his head turned gray, and after
so long a time 'mongst hands of 'em
they got all his money and turned him
loose."
"Is he dead now?"

"Dead, child, dead. I seed him atter
he was laid away in his coffin, and thar
wa'n't none of the trouble in his face
that they said the lawyers and judges
had 'writ thar while he was passin'
through the deep waters. Dead and

gone, dead and gone these many years
is Johnny Allbright, like so many more
I have know'd in this sorrowful world."

The screech-owl, from the dead tree
in the wood, repeated its tremulous,
plaintive cry again and again, again and
again.

"Come to bed," said the old woman,
who had already lain down. "Ye ain't
a-goin' to stan' thar all night, be ye,
Sue?"

The girl stepped back into the room
and closed the door. She undressed in
a few minutes, knelt down and said her
prayers and retired for the night. There
were two beds in the room. Her grand-
mother occupied one in a corner near
the door, she the other on the opposite
side of the room. By her bed was a
window, which was often left open on
sultry Summer nights. The sash was
raised now, but the blind was closed.

The screech-owl, from the dead tree
in the wood, kept repeating its mournful
cry. At regular intervals its pitiful
plaint broke the stillness of the night,
again and again, again and again.

"I wish it would quit," cried the girl
after a while, in the darkness. She had
been endeavoring in vain to compose
herself to sleep.

"Some say the thing sees haunts,"
replied the old woman. "For my part,
I don't believe in no sich. If livin'
folks will let me alone I ain't afeerd of
the dead ones.

"It makes my flesh creep," said the
girl impatiently. "I believe I'll go out
and shoo it away.

"Go to sleep, go to sleep," replied the
old woman. "Don't be skeered out of
your senses by a night bird. Screech
owls has been hollerin' around this house
for thirty years, and no harm ain't befell
us yit."

The old woman dropped into a doze
and then into profound slumber. The
girl continued restless and wakeful in
spite of herself. She counted a hundred
backward, fixed her mind on uninterest-

540

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

ing subjects, tried all the plans she had
ever heard of for wooing sleep, but her
faculties remained keenly alive to all
that was passing about her. The night
bird at last flew away. Its constantly
recurring plaint came no more to startle
her and banish repose from her pillow.
Other sounds familiar to the night suc-
ceeded, but these sroote not so discord-
antly upon her ear. An old cow on a
neighboring farm bellowed a long time,
presumably for her missing calf. So far
away was the sound that it was mellowed
by distance, and, though vexed a little
at first, she was finally soothed by it.
Fainter and fainter grew the note, till
now it died away entirely. Either the
anxious call had ceased to float over
field and timberland or the drowsy ear
of the maiden had grown too dull to
catch it.

It was now past midnight, and the
occupants of the old house were both
asleep. In the immediate vicinity, and
through all the region of the Marrow-
bone Hills, stillness reigned, broken
only by the usual noises of the night.
From some lonely farmhouse the hoarse
bark of a watchdog arose occasionally
to .warn unseen intruders away. An old
rooster, safely perched among the pullets
in his henhouse, awoke, crew drowsily

and went to sleep again. A prowling
fox near by turned his ear toward the
inspiring note, hesitated a while, then
trotted off down the deserted road, his
stealthy footfall giving back no sound.
Through all the region of the Marrow-
bone Hills almost unbroken stillness
reigned. Suddenly penetrating for a
long distance the quiet of the night, the
shrill cry of a human being arose. It
roused in an instant all those upon
whose startled ears it fell, for it was
unmistakably the cry of a woman in dis-
tress. Many of those who heard it left
their beds, and in more than one habita-
tion opened their doors to listen. The
note of alarm arose the second timex
more vehemently than at first, but
abruptly ended, as if cut short by some
violent agency.

Now the sky above the place from
which the wild cry of distress had come
began to glow faintly. Soon it became
a dull red, then brightened, and all the
heaven was lit. Long streaks of light
climbed next toward the zenith, and a
ruddy blaze leaped high amid a thick
volume of ascending smoke. Those who
had been called hurriedly from their beds
were at no loss to determine the spot
from which the flames arose. The old
Bascombe house was on fire.

Ill

SWIFT RETRIBUTION FOLLOWS A FEARFUL CRIME

«I-IANG him! hang him! hang him!"
The captive negro struggled for
a while in the midst of the crowd of
infuriated white men. Then he paused
and gasped for breath; then by a sudden
wrench jerked himself loose from the
strong hand that had gripped his collar
and fled into the darkness. Over the
yard fence he leaped like a deer, down
the road, then out across the meadow;
scarcely touching the earth with his feet,
he fled for his life. His wild burst of

speed was vain, for the angry mob was
at his heels, their determination to
avenge as strong as his to escape. He
had on no coat, but the foremost among
his pursuers seized his loose shirt and
snatched him violently backward to the
earth. ^

He was a slim, black fellow, rather
undersized, with low forehead, and
manifestly of no high order of intelli-
gence. Whatever guilty impulse might
have prompted him a few hours before,

THE K. K. K.

abject terror alone possessed him now.
His teeth chattered, his eyeballs seemed
about to start from their sockets, and
his hurried glance from side to side
showed that he meditated another break,
and another desperate rush for liberty,
if the slightest opportunity should again
be presented.

It is wonderful how quickly news of
a startling nature flies in a neighbor-
hood where the means of communication
are slight. Scarcely two hours had
elapsed since the flames took possession
of the Bascombe house, and now dozens
of excited men were tramping the earth
about the place, and more were coming
in every minute. Those who first reached
the spot after the alarm was given found
the building nearly destroyed and old
Mrs. Bascombe at some distance away,
unconscious from a fearful wound on
her head, but still alive. She had evi-
dently been closer to the flames, for her
lower limbs were badly burned and her
nightgown had been partially consumed
by fire. Hurried search was made about
the premises and an ax was picked up
with the blade all bloody. This, they
made sure, was the weapon with which
the fearful gash on the old woman's
head had been inflicted.

Sue Bascombe was by her grand-
mother's side when the first visitors
reached the scene of the tragedy, and
to these she related with singular calm-
ness the startling incidents of the night.
As she lay after midnight in light
slumber, she was suddenly awakened by
steps on the floor of the open passage
between the two lower rooms of the
house. The next moment, without pre-
liminary knock or demand for admit-
tance, some heavy object was dashed
violently against the door leading from
the- passage into the room which she and
her grandmother occupied. There was
a slight interval and then a second blow,
more violent if possible than the first,
was delivered. Old Mrs. Bascombe,
who was uncommonly active for one of

her years, arose and made for the door
near her bed, which opened into the
front yard. As the quickest method of
egress for herself, the girl undid the bolt
of the window close at hand and leaped
through the open space into the back
yard just as someone entered the room
over the fragments of the shattered door.
She saw at a glance the outlines of a
man's figure, but it was too dark to dis-
tinguish features. Not knowing how
many others were behind the intruder,
and supposing her grandmother had
escaped, she followed the instinct of
self-preservation and fled into the thick
copse that covered the hillside behind
the house. She ran in her bare feet
over the rough stones, how far she
hardly knew. Then she stopped for
breath, and as she did so heard the old
widow's uplifted voice that alarmed the
neighborhood. Without hesitation she
started back to her relief. Then the
second outcry arose, which was quickly
suppressed, and for a time all about the
house was still. The girl stole softly
down the hill now, till she almost reached
the yard fence. Flames from the burn-
ing house lit up the space around; she
heard hurrying footsteps, voices and the
bark of a dog. Determined, at all haz-
ard, to ascertain her grandmother's fate,
she ventured forward and found the old
woman lying senseless on the ground,
a little way off from the burning dwell-
ing. No one else was near, for the
brutal assailants, whoever they were,
had fled from the scene of the crime.

This was the tale Sue Bascombe told
to those who, roused by the fire and the
wild cry in the night, hurried to her
ruined home. She was herself bare-
footed and in her nightgown, but cloth-
ing was soon brought for her from the
house of the nearest neighbor.

Old Mrs. Bascombe lay out in her
yard, unconscious and apparently near
death's door. They gave her whiskey,
sent off for a doctor and applied such
palliatives to her wounds as were at

542

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

hand. Little else could be done, how-
ever, except to stanch the flow of blood
from her head by liberal applications of
cold water and to lessen temporarily the
pain of her burns by the use of wet
bandages. Presently, under the influ-
ence of the liberal stimulant that had
been administered, she began to revive.

"Did they ketch him?" she cried sud-
denly, opening her eyes wide, and striv-
ing to rise. "Whar's Sandy Kinchen?"

They crowded about her and listened
for more, but the effort had exhausted
her and she sank into a stupor again.
A man at her side took her by the arm
and shook her rather roughly. She
opened her eyes again and stared at
him. He stooped down and asked in
a loud voice, though his face was close
to hers:

"Say, do you hear me?"

"Yes," she answered, staring blankly
at him.

"Did you see Sandy Kinchen?"

"Hey?"

He repeated the question and she
gazed at him for some moments longer.
Then she replied in a low tone, but dis-
tinctly:

"Yes, I seen him."

"Was he here? Is he the man that
done this devilment?"

She had sunk into a stupor again.
He shook her by the arm, but she made
no answer. He shook her again more
roughly, but she only uttered unintelli-
gible words.

"Let her alone, let her alone," cried
those standing around. "Don't worry
a dying woman. Hang the man who
committed this outrage. Catch him and
hang him."

Then another one of the crowd spoke
up, addressing Sue Bascombe:

"Did you say you heard the bark of
a dog?"

"Yes, I heard that, '"replied the girl.

"Was it Kinchen's little dog?"

She hesitated and turned a little red
in the face. "I— I thought so," she re-

plied, but I will not say that."

"Hang him! hang him! hang him!"
now the cry arose on every hand.
"Hang the scoundrel who did this mur-
der!"

In a few minutes dozens of men were
scouring the country for the negro ten-
ant whose name the old woman had pro-
nounced, and whose dog was known to
be his close attendant upon all occa-
sions. They went at once to the cabin
where he dwelt, but he was not there.
He had left soon after dark, his \vife
said, with the little dog, and she had not
seen him since. Presently they came
upon him hiding behind a tree, not far
from the spot where the old woman lay.
With blows and curses they dragged him
to the scene of his crime. It was with
difficulty that some of the more hasty
among them were prevented from killing
him on the way. The widow Bascombe
was still in a stupor when they drew
nigh. The doctor, who had just arrived,
felt her pulse and said she had but a
brief while longer to live. Her breath-
ing could scarcely be detected and there
was no speculation in her wide-open
eyes. Her ghastly wound and scorched
limbs cried aloud for vengeance.

The infuriated crowd pressed about
the negro and strove to snatch him from
the few having him in custody. "Hang
him! hang him! hang him!" cried a dozen
voices at once. "Burn him! burn him!"
demanded others. "Throw him into the
old house and burn him to death!"

"Ho-ho-hole on, gin'lemen!" ex-
claimed the shaking culprit, as the
yells of the mob assailed him. "Ho-ho-
hole on; hole on. Ye gwine too fast.
Ye is in fack; ye is in fack. Dis here
ole lady — dis here — dis here old lady —

"Tell the truth, damn you," cried an
angry man, shaking his clenched fist at
the culprit. What are you stuttering
about?"

"Yas, sir; yas sir. I is gwy tell de
trufe. 'Fo' God, gin'lemen, I is gwy
tell de trufe."

THE K. K. K.

543

Have you been here before tonight?"
" Has I been here before tonight? Has
I been here before tonight? Has I —

"Can't you hear?" thundered the
man who had before accosted him.
"Speak quick and tell the truth, or
you're a dead nigger."

"Yas, sir; yas, sir, I is gwy tell de
true. 'Fo' God, gin'lemen, I is gwy
tell de trufe."

" Have you been here before tonight? "

He looked from one to another of

those about him. Then he lifted his

voice and proclaimed vehemently, so

that all might hear:

" 'Fo' God, gin'lemen, I has not."
"The widow Bascombe told a damned
lie, then, when she said you had?" cried
the exasperated individual who was in-
terrogating.

"Yas, sir; yas sir. Ef she said dat
she tole a damn lie. Ef she said dat
she tole a damn lie. She's yer born,
gin'lemen. Sho's yer born."

They dragged him toward the burning
house as if to cast him into the fire. It
was then he managed to break away and
flee for his life. When recaptured, some
loudly demanded that he be burned to
death, but the less savage among them
prevailed. They tied his hands and
took him some distance away from the
spot where the old woman lay. They
found a deep hollow in the wood, known
as Gallows Hollow to this day. Some
one had procured a strong rope from
a neighboring stable, and a noose at one
end of his was slipped about the prison-
er's neck. He was lifted from the
ground by dozens of hands and placed
on the back of a gentle horse belonging
to one of the party. The animal was
brought to a stand directly under a stout
limb branching out nearly horizontally
from a scrubby tree, and an active fellow
cilmbing up to this limb fastened the
loose end of the rope to it. The male-
factor sat on the horse shivering, grim-
acing, turning from one to another in
the surging mass about him as if he

hoped to find a pitying face. More than
once he essayed to speak, but the voice
of the angry crowd drowned his own.
Finally, when he saw they were about
to lead the animal from under him, he
broke again into wild and incoherent
talk.

"Ho-ho-hole on, gin'lemen; ho-ho-
hole on. You is fixin' to do the wrong
thing. You is, in fack. You is in fack.
•Now I'm gwy giv you de trufe. I'm
gwy give you de Gawd's trufe."

"Tell it, then. Tell it. Tell it,"
came from a hundred throats.

"Yas, sir; yas, sir; yas, sir. I was
dar. I was dar. I drug de ole lady
out'n de fire. Dat's de fack. Dat's de
fack."

"You told an infernal lie then when
you said just now you hadn't seen her,
did you?" asked one, sneeringly.

"Yas, sir, I did. Yas, sir, I did.
Sho's dar's breff in my body, gin'lemen,
I tole a infernal lie. I tole a infernal
lie."

At this a great uproar arose. Many

were instant with loud voices: "Hang

the scoundrel! Hang him, hang him!"

"Ho-ho-hole on, gin'lemen. Ho-ho-

hole on, for Gawd's sake."

A young man, apparently fresh from
school, had been regarding the prisoner
for some moments with painful interest.
He seemed to be a stranger, for he had
as yet spoken to no one, and was dressed
with more care than most of those about
him. He looked over the turbulent
throng now, and with some hesitation
lifted his voice and sought to attract
attention to himself.

"Gentlemen," he cried in a loud voice
that trembled a little from excitement,
"please listen to me a moment. We are
about to do a very rash thing here
tonight. I'm afraid we are about to
do a very rash thing. Would it not be
well to make a thorough investigation
of this matter before we take a step that
cannot be retraced?"

At this there was silence for a moment

544

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

or two. Then some one in the crowd
propounded the not unnatural inquiry:

"Who are you?"

"My name is Robert Lee Templeton,"
replied the youth in a tone that showed
he derived some satisfaction from im-
parting the information. "I do not live
in your county, but being by accident in
this neighborhood tonight, I saw the fire
and came to it. Now, gentlemen, I sub-
mit to you again that we should do
nothing rash here tonight. In so grave
a matter as this we should proceed like
sober-minded citizens. This negro fel-
low most probably deserves hanging,
and if you'll turn him over to the
authorities, at the proper time and in
the proper manner, he'll get his dues.
If he is the perpetrator of the fearful
crime committed tonight, hanging is a
mild punishment for him. But it does
not follow that he should be hung right
up here to this limb without any sort of
investigation. For us to take the law in
our own hands thus will 1 »ring reproach
on the entire community. Besides, gen-
tlemen, when you come to think of it,
you will see that such a course must
encourage all evil-disposed persons in
your midst to bad deeds. When you
trample the law underfoot, you teach
them contempt for the law."

The young gentleman had a persuasive
manner, and a clear voice that pene-
trated a good way. His nervousness
added to his earnestness and drew to-
ward him a considerable portion of the
crowd. There is always a disposition
in a promiscuous and excited assemblage
to follow any one who chooses to consti-
tute himself a leader. Most of those
present on this occasion were moral, law-
abiding people, not inclined, as a rule,
to heed rash counsel, but greatly wrought
upon now by the shocking crime that
had just been committed. These were
disposed to listen to the speaker, and
a few drew close to him to catch his
words more distinctly.

"Why have a law." continued Temple-

ton, earnestly, "and not live up to it?
This fellow, I say, may be guilty — "

"Thar ain't no doubt about it," inter-
rupted a voice from the crowd. "Not
a bit— not a damned bit," echoed others.

"Very well," replied Templeton,
"then there can be no doubt about the
fact that he'll be hung by the sheriff as
soon as his guilt can be established in
the court. Let the law take hold of him
right now. Surely, there ought to be
some sort of deliberation when the life
of a human being is at stake. Let the
coroner or some legal officer take charge
of this man, swear a jury and inquire
into this transaction right here on the
spot."

"What do yer want with the curriner?"
inquired a rude fellow in the rear of the
assemblage. "Thar ain't nobody dead
yit."

Templeton looked rather blank at this.
and another individual in the crowd
undertook to enlighten him. "Coroners
sits on dead folks, young fellow. You've
got to have a corpse afo' you can sum-
mon a coroner's jury."

At this a laugh arose at the young
man's expense. It was evident he was
losing his hold upon the fickle crowd.
He recovered, however, from the tempo-
rary confusion into which he had been
thrown and was about to continue his
plea for deliberation and more thorough
investigation, when another speaker
a few steps off waved his hat over his
head and broke in vehemently:

"Why are we wasting time here, men,
listening to this schoolboy talk about
turning this scoundrel over to the courts
and the lawyers? Who is it doesn't
know what that means? Who is it wants
to see him wrangled over for years, and
finally, maybe, to go scot free on a
quibble? This is no time for child's
play. We've got all the proof we need,
and right here, right now, we ought to
deal with him. Has the old Bascome
house been burned or not? Has the
good old lady there been butchered with

The Lynching of Sandy K inch en

From a drawing by M. L. Blumenthal
(545)

546

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

an ax or not? Did Sue Bascombe have
to run off barefooted to the woods to
escape the clutches of this devil or not?
Did old Mrs. Bascombe give this
nigger's name to us, or not? Did his
dog bark and give him away while he
was murdering her or not? What are
we fooling away time for? Who dares
to talk about courts and lawyers and
dilly-dallying now? Do we want our
homes in cold blood, or daughters hid-
ing in the bushes from human devils?
Talk about wasting a lifetime in the
courts over a case like this — haven't we
got sense enough to deal with this brute
as he deserves? If a tiger was loose in
the community would you catch him and
take him to the law, or would you kill
him wherever you found him? I tell
you, it makes my very blood boil —

But they stayed no further question.
From all sides came fierce demands for
the negro's death. "Kill the brute! kill
the brute! Hang him! hang him! hang
him! Let the horse go! Drive the
horse from under him!" These and
other furious cries rent the air, and the
mob surged to and fro like a storm-
beaten sea.

The young man who had called him-
self Templeton did his best to lull the
tempest that had- been raised. He lifted
his voice on high and shouted with all
his might: "Hold on; hold on! One
word more! Give me one word more!"
In the midst of the tumult there seemed
still a few who favored moderate coun-
sel. "Hear the young man; hear him,"
cried one or two persons in the assem-
blage. "Hang the damned nigger.
Hang him; hang him!" shouted a
dozen others.

A brutal looking fellow here forced
his way into the center of the tumultu-
ous crowd. He was a ruffian whose
appearance would have attracted atten-
tion anywhere. He wore no hat, and his
shaggy head of reddish hair was set on
broad, stooping shoulders. His dirty,
matted locks almost hid his low forehead

and his scowling eyes were so badly
crossed that they both seemingly never
rested on the same object at once. His
arms, like those of an orang-outang,
appeared too long for his body and were
manifestly of prodigious strength. In
his right hand he held a stout branch,
which he must have wrested from some
tree as he came along, and this he held
uplifted as high as his long arm could
reach, giving vent at the same time to
hoarse, loud cries, as if to strike terror
into the animal on which the pinioned
negro sat.

The infuriated crowd noted the
ruffian's conduct and greeted him with
a yell of approval. "Strike the old
horse, strike the old horse!" cried first
one and then another. "Hurrah for
Cross-eyed Jack," shouted others. The
fellow looked about him and grinned,
flourishing his branch at the same time
in such a way as to set the horse nearly
wild.

Templeton implored a minute's delay;
a few about him cried, "Hold! hold!"
but the ruffian who had been applauded
as Cross-eyed Jack brought down his
branch with all his might on the withers
of the excited horse. With such strength
did he wield his long arm that the blow
was heard on the uttermost verge of
the assemblage. The maddened animal
plunged forward, nearly overturning the
man at its head, and ran until it was
halted several yards away. The desper-
ate negro clutched the body beneath
tightly with his legs, but at the first
bound his frail hold was broken and
he swung to and fro in the air, sus-
pended by the neck from the strong limb
above him.

Templeton, when he saw what was
done, fell back from the harrowing scene.
He and a few others who had urged
delay were hustled unceremoniously
aside, while the ruder spirits of the
mob crowded to the front, treading on
each other's feet in their anxiety to
view the death agony of a human crea-

THE K. K. K.

547

lure. They were not bad men — most
of those who had hurriedly assembled
on this occasion. It was such a crowd
as might have been gathered together on
short notice almost anywheie, north,
south, east or west, in this great country.
They were fearfully wrought upon by
the horrible crime that had just been
committed, but let the whole truth be
told. Mob law had more than once of
late been resorted to in their com-
munity, and, brutalized by its exercise,
they were eager actors now in a scene
from the mere contemplation of which
they would at one time have shrunk in
horror. Man in the moments of his
loftiest inspirations may be a creature
but little lower than the angels, yet the
fierce instincts of a rude ancestry lurk
still in his nature, ready at any un-
guarded moment to drag him down and
make a savage of him.

The malefactor died a lingering,
apparently a painful death. In his pro-
longed struggle his feet more than once
touched the foremost of those who
pressed about him. They stood by,
for the most part in silence, noting
closely every movement, every contor-
tion, of his suffering frame. A few had

savage satisfaction at the pitiful spec-
tacle depicted in their countenances; a
few wore painful expressions; the ma-
jority seemed to be animated by no
stronger feeling than curiosity at a novel
sight. After life was extinct the bystand-
ers gradually fell back and separated into
groups, discussing the outrage that had
been committed and justifying the
prompt punishment of the offender.
When the space immediately around the
corpse had thus been cleared, a small
dog, till then unnoticed, crept trem-
blingly forward and, crouching humbly
under the negro's feet, set up a mourn-
ful howl. Of all present, the little crea-
ture was the dead man's only friend,
and its desolate note ascended so
sorrowfully that it touched the hearts
of the rudest spirits in the assemblage.
The ruffian known as Cross-eyed Jack,
however, seemed stirred to ungovern-
able rage by it. Rushing forward with
his stout branch uplifted, he aimed a
blow at the dog that must have ended
its existence if it had fallen as intended.
Fortunately the little animal became
aware of the danger in time, and spring-
ing nimbly aside fled with a yelp of
mingled rage and terror from the scene.

IV
THE OLD WIDOW TELLS A PLAIN, UNVARNISHED TALE

rvAY was breaking when the mob finally
dispersed. One by one they had
ridden away after the purpose that
assembled them had been accomplished,
a few only lingering until the reddening
east warned them off. Before the sun
rose the last loiterer had retired from
the scene, leaving the dead negro alone
in the woods.

The birds now began to twitter cheer-
fully and to spread their wings and fly
from place to place in the forest. One
perched upon the limb from which the
lifeless body hung and by discordant

cries called others to view the grewsome
sight. As the day advanced human
creatures came again upon the spot.
Dressed all in their Sunday best — for
it was the Sabbath day — they came now
in groups of two and three, gazed curi-
ously at the suspended corpse and went
their way to church or to some place
of country pastime. Little boys crept
softly to the spot, supped their full of
horror and stole, open-eyed and open-
mouthed, away. As the noon hour ap-
proached the number of visitors so in-
creased that a path was beaten from the

548

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

highway to the spot where the dead man
with his arms pinioned swung to and fro.
They stood about and talked, but touched
not the body of Sandy Kinchen; for
while a mob of excited men might hang
him up, none but the law's officers could
take the responsibility of cutting him
down.

It was nearly night when the coroner
came. He rode gravely into the assem-
blage and made several circuits on
horseback round the corpse before he
dismounted. He had been notified early
in the day that a dead man hung in the
woods near the old Bascombe place, but
official duty, or something else, kept him
away. Perhaps he thought if he re-
sponded to the notice too promptly he
might obtain more information than he
cared to possess. Now he rode round
and round the fatal tree, dismounted,
looked into the faces of the promiscuous
assemblage and said it was a bad busi-
ness. He then took a well-thumbed
New Testament from his pocket, swore
in seven of the bystanders as jurors and
proceeded to hold an inquest. Numer-
ous witnesses were called, all of whom
swore positively that they knew nothing
at all about the matter in hand. Most
inclined to the belief that the body now
hanging stark and stiff from the limb
was the body of the late Sandy Kinchen,
but upon this there was some divergence
of opinion. Some said it was Sandy;
others said: "No, but it looks like him."
All doubt on this point, however, was
soon set at rest by Reu-ben Kinchen,
brother of Sandy, who, being brought
to the spot, testified without hesitation
that it was the corpse of his younger
brother, Sandy, swinging from the limb.
The coroner then prepared his return,
setting forth the fact that he and the
seven jurors had viewed the body of
a man there hanging dead before them,
who had come to his death by violence
. at the hands of some person or persons
unknown. The return further set forth
the fact that the body of the man so

hanging dead before the jury they found
from all evidence to be that of one
Sandy Kinchen, a man of color. All the
jurors signed this report, and the body
of Sandy Kinchen was then cut down
with the coroner's own knife. Reuben,
who stood respectfully by, was now noti-
fied that he might take his brother Sandy
off somewhere and bury him, the law
being through with him.

Perhaps it occurred to Reuben that
the law would have been more efficient
if it had taken hold of Sandy's case in
his lifetime, but if any such notion came
into his head he was wise enough to
keep it to himself. He remarked, as he
gently straightened out his brother's
legs, that his mammy had tried to raise
the boy right, and that they had never
known him to be guilty of such a trick
before.

"He played hell when he did make
a break," said one of the jurors, "and
got just what he deserved for his con-
duct."

"I ain't 'sputin' dat, sir," replied
Reuben, meekly. "Dem what sins must
suffer."

Then they fell to a.busing the dead
man in the presence of his brother, who
responded not at all. When they laid
the lifeless body in a cart to be hauled
away, Reuben took off his hat and said
to those present: "It looks bad for
Sandy now, gentlemen, but I hopes you
will believe me when I tells you that
afo' this we never know'd no wuss of
him than that he would go meandering
up and down the country of nights."

So they took Sandy Kinchen off and
buried him; and from that time forth he
meandered no more up and down the
country of nights. Whatever might have
been thought otherwise of the action of
the mob, it had at least cured him of
this reprehensible habit.

Old Mrs. Bascombe held on to life
bravely. The doctor thought when he
first saw her that she could not live an
hour, but she lay in a stupor most of the

THE K. K. K.

549

following day, muttering and babbling
constantly, and occasionally uttering
when aroused a few coherent words. It
was thought best not to attempt to re-
move her from the spot where she was
found, and a tent was improvised of
stout cloth and set up over her. The
young man who had called himself
Robert Lee Templeton, and who seemed
to be a handy youth as well as an oblig-
ing one, attended to the erection of this
tent. He stretched it overhead so as to
ward off sun and possible shower, looped
up the walls so as to allow free passage
for the air, and did his best in every
way to add to the comfort of the desper-
ately stricken creature who lay under-
neath the shelter. Sue Bascombe, the
granddaughter, and most of the kindly
neighbors took a fancy to him, for noth-
ing else except sympathy and generosity
of disposition could have prompted him
to the course he was now pursuing. His
home, they learned, was in an adjoining
county. He had just graduated from
college, and some errand of business or
pleasure had brought him into the Mar-
rowbone Hills at this time.

As the day advanced the old woman
seemed to revive, and her mind cleared
up considerably. The physician said the
the improvement in her condition was
temporary; that for the present she was
buoyed up with fever and brandy, but
in a short time her system would relax
and the inevitable would follow. How-
ever this might be, she certainly was bet-
ter and brighter late in the afternoon
following the infliction of her wound.
Toward sundown she called for food,
and some chicken broth having been
administered by her granddaughter, she
wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her
gown and seemed disposed for conversa-
tion.

"Have they kotched him?" she asked
in a low tone, her head turned in the
direction of Sue.

The girl nodded to her in reply.

"Whar is he?" inquired the old

woman. "I want to see him."

"They had him here last night," said
the girl evasively.

"Why didn't they let me know? I
wanted to talk to the low-lived scoun-
drel."

"They asked you about him, Granny.
You talked about him last night. Don't
you remember?"

"I wa'n't in my right mind," replied
the old woman. "Fetch him here now.
I'm all right now. I want to see him,
and I want him to see his work."

The girl made no answer.

"Has they jailed him?" inquired the
old woman, again addressing her grand-
daughter. "Wai, it's all right, I reckon;
all right, I reckon. I'll be thar at the
trial, though. You kin count on that."

She looked around now from one to
another of those about her, and in-
spected curiously the tent that had been
erected above her. She picked at the
light coverlet that had been thrown over
her, which two old women in attendance
whispered each other was a bad sign.
She dozed a little, then roused suddenly
and spoke again to the girl :

"Sandy is a good nigger," she said
to her granddaughter. "I tell you he's
as good as they make 'em."

The girl looked at her in surprise.

"He's as good as they make 'em,"
repeated the old woman. "Whar would
I be now but for Sandy?"

There were some half-dozen persons
in the group, and they all eyed her in-
quiringly.

"Whar's Sandy?" continued the old
woman, looking from one to another of
them. "I don't see him amongst ye.
Thar ain't no occasion for him to be
makin' himself skerce. He didn't make
himself skerce las' night when he drug
me out'n the fire, and he needn't make
himself skerce now. Fetch him here; I
want ye all to hear me tell him how
much I'm 'bleeged to him for runnin'
up at the nick of time and draggin' me
out'n the fire. He's a nigger, I'll own

55°

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

to that, but, nigger or no nigger, I'm
beholden to him for what he done for
me, and I want to tell him so. A friend
in need is a friend indeed, as the school
chillern write down in their copy-books.
Tell Sandy to step in here; I want to
see him."

A portly, middle-aged matron— one of
that numerous class whose delight it
always is to impart unpleasant intelli-
gence—here leaned over, and, speaking
slowly and distinctly, said to the old
woman:

"They hung Sandy last night to a
black-jack tree up yander on the side of
the hill."

"Done which?" inquired the old
woman, as if unable at once to grasp
the full import of the words she had
heard.

"They hung him," repeated her in-
formant in a higher key. "They hung
Sandy last night, sho's yer born."

"What fur?" asked the old woman in
astonishment.

"Fur murderin' uvyou; and a burnin'
your house; and a runnin' Sue off to
the woods."

"Wai' now, ye hev did it," exclaimed
the old woman with more strength in
her tone than they thought she could
command. "Ye are jess a passel of
idjuts, that's what ye are. To think
ye'd hev no more gumption than that,
no more gumption than that."

"Mrs. Bascombe," said Templeton,
seeing she was becoming too much ex-
cited, "don't worry over the matter.
You are not exactly at yourself just now.
We did hang him because he committed
an outrageous crime, but don't trouble
yourself now about it."

"Ye did hang him, did ye?" exclaimed
the old woman, tauntingly. "Wai, I
'lowed 'twas some sich smart Aleck as
you. Whar'd you come from, anyhow?"

Seeing that his presence exasperated
her, the young man retired. The old
woman now looked at her granddaughter
and into such familiar faces as she saw

about her. "Hev they hung him sho
nuff?" she inquired.

One or two said "Yes," others nodded
their heads by way of assent. Then the
old woman railed at them from her pallet
on the ground.

"Ye've gone and hung Sandy, hev ye?
Wai, now, s'pos'n' ye take me out and
hang me. Ye hung him for draggin' me
out'n the fire; now hang me for bein'
drug out'n the fire. Hung Sandy, hung
Sandy! Wai, ye are jess a passel of
idjuts, the last one of ye. And tell me
what ye did to Cross-eyed Jack, will ye?
I s'pos'n' ye turned him aloose, and
gi'n him a chromo."

"Cross-eyed Jack?" inquired the
woman who had first spoken. "What
about him?"

"What about him? No wonder ye ax
what about him. He bu'sted my door
open in the middle of the night, sot my
house on fire, split my head open with
a ax and skert Sue nigh out'n her
senses. That's all he done. So now
jess give him a chromo and turn him
a-loose. Do that, and then come finish
your job by hangin' me to a black-jack
tree 'longside of Sandy. Jess do that
now; do that, and I'll take it as a
favor. Go 'way from here, all of ye!"
she cried with sudden indignation. "Go
'way, I tell ye. I don't want to lay eyes
on none of ye no more."

"Granny, Granny," said Sue, sooth-
ingly, and she gave her some quieting
medicine. The old woman lay in silence
for a few moments, then she spoke out
again :

"Let 'em go away; let 'em go away.
I don't want to lay eyes on none of 'em
again. Betwixt white folks that don't
help in time of trouble and niggers that
does, I'm on the side of the niggers.
Wai, wal, wal, wal! The idjuts hev gone
and hung Sandy, hung poor Sandy.
Hung him to a sour apple tree, as the
sayin' goes. No, it was to a black-jack
tree this time, a black-jack tree. Wal,
wal, wall"

THE K. K. K.

551

"Mrs. Bascombe," began Templeton,
hoping to get a connected story from the
old woman.

"I don't keer to hear another word
from ye," she interrupted emphatically.
"Ye needn't speak a single solitary
word to me. Smooth talk ain't a gwine
to fetch that nigger back to life; so hold
your tongue and save your manners.
But I tell ye now, young fellow, some
things kin be stood and some is too
. aggravatin' to be stood. Ye've hung a
good nigger for befriending a lone
widder, and when I'm up from here I'm
going to have the law on the last one
of ye."

"Did Sandy Kinchen befriend you?"

"Did he? Hain't I jess told ye what
he did? Do ye want me to begin at the
fust and tell it all? Wai, I will. Here
come Cross-eyed Jack, a low-lived
scoundrel, slippin' up to the house, with
me dead asleep and the gal, I s'pose,
a cat-nappin'. Afo' anybody know'd
what he was about, he slar. s the ax agin
the door with all his might. Right 'pon
top of that comes another lick; the door
flies open, I jumps up and the gal pops
out'n the winder. Bein' young and spry,
she pops out'n the winder, and runs up
the hill, I make no doubt, like a wild
turkey. I was fust on the floor, and I
makes for the yard door as fast as I kin,
as fast as ever I kin. I got clean out
' and most down to the big road, when I
looked back and seed a great blaze in
the house. Mebbe that devil, Cross-
eyed Jack, drapped a match accidental,
huntin' about for me and Sue. Mebbe
he sot the room afire a purpose — I
dunno, I dunno. He's none too good
to do sich a thing, and I b'lieve he sot
it afire a purpose. Anyhow, thar was
a bright blaze by the time I got a little
piece off from the house. When I seed
that, I couldn't stand to have my things
burned up, so I turned back and fetched
a yell to 'larm the country. 'Hush,' he
says, 'you old - -' and with that he
called me a bad name, which — bein' a

church member — I'm not a gwine to
mention."

"Granny," interrupted Sue, "you're
talking too much. Be quiet now a little
while, and then you can go on again."

"Never you mind, I know what I'm
'bout. Gimme another taste of that
liquor, gal. Lawful sakes, whar was I?
Hung Sandy, hung Sandy; yas, yas.
Here he comes bustin' toward me and
he calls me a owdacious name, and I
says to him, 'I know ye and I'll have
the law on ye, ye cross-eyed scoundrel.'
Them's jess the words I said, and
right at—"

"Granny, Granny, you're talking too
much." „

"Never you mind, gal. I'm a tellin'
it for the benefit of them that's gone and
hung Sandy. 'I know ye,' says I. 'I
know ye.' With that he raised his ax
and with that I fetched another yell, and
with that— Lord, have massy 'pon me —
he hit me right squar' on the head and
knocked me cold as a wedge. Then I
s'p'os'n' he tuck to his heels and leff
them parts. And befo' I come to rights
good I thought of Sue a runnin' from
that cross-eyed devil. It was on my
mind, on my mind. And when I come
to — laws a massy, laws a massy — the
house was a burn in' and the smoke and
fire a rushin' out at the door, and me
not able to move. I reckon ye wouldn't
a liked that, none of ye, and yit that's
jess the identical fix I was in. Presently
there was a little dog barkin', barkin'
and a snifflin' 'round me. And presently
here comes a feller runnin' — I heerd
him, I heerd him— and he grabs me and
he drags me out'n the fire and smoke
and off from the house. I'm a givin'
it to ye straight. Whar's them that hung
Sandy? Let 'em come forrards and lis-
ten. He was a nigger feller, this here
feller was, and I don't in jineral bemean
myself by 'sociatin' with niggers, but
this time I was glad for a while to
'sociate with niggers, I kin tell you.
Whiles he was a draggin' me out'n the

552

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

smoke and fire, and the dog was barkin',
barkin', I opened my eyes and I looked
at the nigger feller hard, and it was
Sandy Kinchen; neither more nor less,
nor yit any other pusson but Sandy Kin-
chen. I knowed him well; I seed him
good, and I tell you 'twas Sandy Kin-
chen ; the very identical nigger that this
here young smart Aleck and a lot of
other smart Alecks has gone and hung
to a black-jack tree. And the little dog
that was barkin', barkin', I seed him
good, too, and I tell you ''twas the iden-
tical little dog which keeps company
with Sandy, and which everybody calls
Jineral Beauregard, sich bein' the out-
landish name Sandy guv him."

"Granny, Granny 1"

"Lemme 'lone, I tell you, gal. 'Twas
Sandy Kinchen, I tell you, which you
know'd as well as I did, and never
know'd no special harm of him, nother.
He put my gown out, which was afire,
and he looked at my head, which was
split open, and he seed the blood spurtin'
and a streamin' every whicher way, and
he says— the nigger did, I heard him
plain — 'Gawd A'mighty, what shill I
do?' Then I says to him, 'Run for the
doctor, Sandy,' and with that he run,
and the dog run, and I hain't seed nary
one of 'em sence. Hain't seed 'em;
hain't seed 'em. Did they hang the
dog, too? Now I wonder if they hung
the little dog to a black-jack tree,
becase he was around and jess as
deep into it as Sandy. Lord, Lord,
to think of what they have gone and
did; jess to think of it; jess to think
of it!"

The doctor here came in and felt her
pulse. She did not seem to have been
weakened by her effort. Indeed her
voice was stronger now than at any time
since she received the injury.

"Mrs. Bascombe," said Templeton,
kneeling by her, "you've surprised us
all very much by your story —

"No wonder," interrupted the old
woman. "But that ain't a gwine to git

you out'n the scrape you're in; I tell
you that."

"Mrs. Bascombe," pursued Temple-
ton, "are you perfectly certain it was the
man called Cross-eyed Jack who* struck
you? You may not be living when the
court meets and —

"Me not be livin' when the court
meets? I hain't no notion of dyin',
young feller; I tell you that. You sum-
mons me to the trial and I'll be thar."

"Could you swear positively to the
man who struck you?"

"Kin I swar to him? I'd swar to him
on a stack of Bibles high as the house
he burned. Hain't he worked in my
gyarden, and 'bout on the place? Work,
did I say? I'll take that back. He jess
only piddled 'round and made believe
to work. Didn't he make bold to set
up to Sue, and didn't she snub him the
wust kind? Didn't I have to turn him
off at last for a lazy, cross-eyed, impu-
dent rascal? Me not know him when
he faced me last night! You summons
me to the court-house when the trial
comes off and I'll p'int my finger at
him and tell him all I've told here and
more besides. I'll give him the whole
truth right to his ugly face, and he
dassn't deny my words. I'll swar to it
all before judge and jury when the time
comes; see if I don't, see if I don't.
You summons me to the court-house,
young feller; I'll be thar."

One of those who had been a willing
participator in the untimely taking off
of poor Sandy, here asked:

"Why didn't the nigger come back to
you after he'd gone his errand?"

"Oh, I dunno, I dunno. Mebbe he
come in sight and was afeared to ven-
ture up. You all was tearin' 'round, I
reckon, mad as blazes, and when a mob
is on a rampage in these parts the smart-
est thing a nigger can do is to hide out.
Ef I'd a been in Sandy's place you never
would a laid hands on me, I tell you
that. Whar he played the fool was in
lettin' himself git caught."

THE K. K. K.

553

"He told us he hadn't seen you," per-
sisted the speaker. "He lied about hav-
ing been here at all."

"Oh, I s'pos'n' he did," rejoined the
old woman, impatiently. "Ef he had
'fessed to being here, ye'd a hung him
for that; but he lied about it, and so ye
hung him for lyin'. You was bound to
have a hangin', that's a fact, and wa'n't
very particular whose neck was pulled.
Ef 'twa'n't easy to ketch the right man,
ruther than wait ye'd string up the
wrong man. When you fellers git
started, you're like young dogs on a
hunt; you'll chase any kind of game,
jess to be barkin' and runnin'."

To this the individual who had pro-
voked the old woman's sarcasm did not
deem it prudent to reply. "The next
time you-all gits up a mob," she con-
tinued, addressing him sneeringly, "you
better git a sensible woman to head you.
Wimmen is jest as excitable as men, but
they ain't so bloody-minded."

After this she became quiet and dozed
for a half-hour or more. When she
awoke they gave her a stimulant and she
seemed calmer and more cheerful. See-
ing Templeton's face among those near

her, she addressed him in a good, strong
voice and in a not unkindly tone:

"I'll be at the court-house, young
feller, by the *une you and Cross-eyed
Jack gits thar; don't you be nowise
oneasy."

"You're better, aren't you, Granny?"
queried Sue.

"Yes, I'm better," answered the old
woman, "and I mean to keep on gittin'
better."

She remained quiet now for some time
and then spoke again, to no one in par-
ticular:

"Thev was bound to hang somebody,
and so they hung Sandy Kinchen."

Shortly after this she dropped again
into a doze, which soon deepened into
sound slumber. She slept and slept,
lying quite still and breathing now
heavily, now more and more peace-
fully. The doctor said it was a good
indication, and quietly they all slipped
away from her presence, lest they
might disturb her. When, shortly
before midnight, Sue Bascombe crept
back into the tent and looked nar-
rowly in her face, she had joined
Sandy Kinchen in the land of the leal.

[To Be Continued]

THE SONG IS TO THE SINGER

THE song is to the singer, and comes back most to him;

The teaching is to the teacher, and comes back most to him ;
The murder is to the murderer, and comes back most to him ;
The theft is to the thief, and comes back most to him ;
The love is to the lover, and comes back most to him ;
The gift is to the giver, and comes back most to him — it cannot fail ;
The oration is to the orator, the acting to the actor and actress, not to the audience;
And no man understands any greatness or goodness but his own, or the indications of
his own. — Walt Whitman ("Carol of Words," 1836.)

FOUNDING A TENT-HOME
. IN CALIFORNIA

By Leonie Gilmour

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

I SUPPOSE every easterner who comes
to California comes hugging a dream of
home. " Back east," he had no home.
There, not only the too rich, not only the very
poor, even the poor-enough-to-be-comforta-
ble, are so often homeless. Homeless?
Largely by their1 own fault, I grant you.
"Home" in one sense is within reach of all.
Someone has said that wherever two loving
hearts strive to make a bit of a nest for them-
selves apart from the world, there home is.
What if the nest be small? What if every
gust voice a threat of ruin? Still it may be
home. Yes, even under the blighting eye of
the landlord there may be home.

But home without any third party, no land-
lord, no "other families" in the house or
peering in your back windows ; home with
the dear sense of ownership encompassing it
— why, that's a luxury we come to California
to find. "Why pay rent? Why not own your
own home? " is a proposition thrust upon the
eastern visitor from the moment he steps off
the train. Everywhere he looks, the busy
real-estate speculator has placarded the
quaint device. "Lots for sale! Lots! $10
down and $10 a month," or "$25 down and
$10 a month." Well, why not own our home,
we said. So after a year of hesitation we
struck out for " Home." You see, even in
California, poor folks must hesitate before

owning their home. There's something at
stake. Suppose you are paying rent, and
one day comes when you cannot pay. What
happens ? Why, the worst that can come is
to be evicted, and then you go and live in
cheaper quarters. But if you are buying your
home on the installment plan, and you fail to
make one payment — alas, you lose your very
home. So we hesitated, trembling on the
brink for a whole year. Then a bit of a
check came to give us heart. We said ,
" We will."

Over on the eastern outskirts of the City
of Our Lady the Queen of the Angels there
lies a high plateau, with a view of San Pedro
mountain to the South — yes, there too the
twin peaks of Catalina Island lift their heads
out of white cloud billows — while between
roll the miles on miles of mesa land, over
which the clean winnowed wind of the mesa
sweeps unremittingly. To the north the
abrupt rock masses of the Sierra Madre
show steely blue and white, or thunderously
cloud-gray. On the east the softer forms of
the dream-distant San Bernardino range still
rim the world. Westward lies the city and
the city haze — but we need not look west-
ward. Underfoot the close-cropped pasture
land fits the sole and springs to the tread.

Once I had come upon it in a stroll, now I
remembered and returned to the spot. The
real-estate agent — at every corner you find
one peering at you from his hole like the
squirrels — hitched up his buggy and got
out his best oratory for our benefit. Poor
real-estate agents have to work so hard:
and dear me, wasn't he amazed ! We agreed
with everything he said. Undoubtedly the
view was superb. We promptly selected our
lot, the "sightliest" one for view — while the
voice of the real-estate man rolled on, telling
of the street one day to be cut through there.
We were so "pleased to have a deep gully
close by that it never occured to us that a

THE HOME

555

street could not possibly erer be cut through
there. " I'm afraid ye got badly stuck on
that lot," a neighbor afterward condoled with
us, " because ye see ye're sidetracked away
off from the street, and your property won't
rise in value as if a street could be cut
through there " Were we a bit crestfallen
to think we had paid for just a view? The
view consoled us.

Somebody told us we could buy a tent
for $10. We saw one advertised in the
paper at that price. "A striped tent in good
order, fourteen by sixteen feet," the adver-
tisement ran. Now who would have thought
to measure the tent? Or go poking about for
rents in the canvas? Not we! The people
who sold it us — decent working people they
were — needed the money in building their
" shack." The "shack" with chicken yard in
back and some bright flowers in front is the
second step in the evolution of the California
"Home." The third step is the neat "bunga-
low" with levelled lawn and trees of your
own planting.

Now the tent needed a floor. A floor will
cost you a matter of $5 or $6, one of the
wise say-so's informed us. We hunted for a
man to lay the floor. "There's a decent
oldish sort of a German man will work for a
dollar and a half a day and glad to get it,"
one of our neighbors-to-be told us. Him we
sought. Herr Z grunted some guttural
objections — he was busy putting up some
shacks — well, maybe he could leave for a
day for a consideration of $2.50. Agreed.
And how much lumber would it take? Herr
Z calculated in German and pronounced,
"Twelve dollars." It was more than we ex-
pected. However, we supposed we were in
for it. Would he buy the lumber for us?
No, he would not. But he would meet me
at the lumber yard and help me select the
lumber, and then we would know what we
were paying for. So I met Mr. Z by ap-
pointment at Canahl's lumber yard. A fine,
patriarchal-looking fellow he was, recalling
the pictures of Joseph. His bronzed face
showed richly against the snowy beard, his
brown eyes glowed softly. Afterward I
learned to value his gentle and kindly heart.
That day he tried my patience. Alas, he had
quaffed the cup which puts fetters to the
will, wings to the imagination — in short, was
drunk. He was enjoying the divine irre-
sponsibility of the heaven-born. He did not
feel like work. ( Does anyone in California
feel like work?) "So much work to do on
those shacks. If I stop to do your work
those people get angerry mit me," he shrug-
ged deprecatingly. But our tent was bought,
pur lot bespoke, we wanted to settle at once.

" Leave alles to me, dear lady. I find one
Seventh Day Adventist, good carpenter, I
speak to him tonight. Sure he will lay your
floor." In the meantime I bought the lum-
ber: 300 square feet of flooring at $27 a
thousand cost #9 ; eight beams two by four
inches and fourteen feet long were $1.50;
Four boards one foot wide and one inch
thick ( as baseboards to raise the tent a little
from the floor) cost another $1.50. Add 75
cents for cartage and you have a total of
^12.75 for lumber.

And I decided to see Mr. Seventh Day
Adventist myself. So that evening, after
work, (my days being given over to an
"office") I sought out the place. How
changed, how dark and pathless the mesa by
night : here and there a light twinkled from
a rare house. Twice on the way a lighted
tent, like a paper lantern set down on the
mesa, guided me. A bare - legged boy
brushed past me carrying a gunny-sack slung
over his shoulder. What was in the sack?
Dried chunks of manure, used to keep the
hearth-fire aglow in the scarcity of coal.
( Coal — a dirty soft kind in irregular lumps —
costs 60 cents a sack in California, and wood
is 30 cents a sack. ) I knocked at the door
of the carpenter at last. A woman's voice
asked me in. I entered a huge room. A
glowing kitchen stove in the middle reached
out long, trembling fingers of light to touch
the rough beams and rafters, the floor, the
walls. A solidly built brick chimney rose
from floor to roof. It was the outside shell
of an incompleted house, of which the par-
titions, upper floor, lathing and plastering
were still to be done. Before the comfort-
table fire Priscilla, the Puritan maiden'— no,
the buxom wife of the Seventh Day Advent-
ist, clad in gray homespun and broad white
kerchief, sat nursing her knees. Outside
the wind blew gustily chill. I was glad to
come into the warmth. The good wife gos-
sipped. "Tent? Oh, yes, to be sure, you're
the lady of the tent. Well, I'm glad to see
you — " " I am afraid you made a mistake,"
I interrupted. "What, don't you live in the
tent across the way? No? Well, there's
something very mysterious about that. You
know she had that tent built several months
ago, and there's never a soul to be seen there
— yes, someone saw a man and woman sit-
ting in the doorstep at dusk once. Some
folks say they've seen a light in the tent —
Well, so it wasn't you after all." I told her
I wanted a tent put up. Would her husband
do it? Well, maybe, tho' she feared he was
too busy. I must wait till he came home.
He charged $3.50 a day, working by con-
tract he often made more, much more. Now

556

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

she prated of her husband. "My husband"
was one of the important people of the Ad-
ventist community. Had I been to Elder
Simpson's meetings ? Such an earnest man!
A man of property too ! Why, he owned —
But it was getting late, and I excused myself.
Come to think of it, she was sure her hus-
band was too busy to take any more work
just now. I took up again my search for a
carpenter, was directed from one place to
another, always with the same result. Tired
and hungry, I stumbled my way back to the
road, after losing myself once in the tall dried
grasses of the gully. At half-past nine I sat
down to supper and the narration of the day's
events. For the next three days I hunted
carpenters. Finally someone gave me a tip
to telephone to Union headquarters. They
sent me a man (at $3.50 a day of course) who
took nearly two days to plant our fourteen
by sixteen - foot tent (charges #5) and in-
cidentally discovered that it measured only
twelve by fourteen feet. (Is it true that all
Californians are liars ? Well, I don't at this
moment recall one who has kept his word to
me in the matters of time and price. Your
real Californian will tell you, however, that
these are all Easterners. True enough ! )
So our tent cost us so far $17.75 i no» #18.75,
including the expressage.

We were to move Wednesday. But
Wednesday it rained, the first time in six
months. And Thursday it rained. Friday
we took advantage of a lull in the storm to
start out. I sat up in front of the express
wagon beside a black man. Baby in his
carriage was strapped securely on top of the
load. The dear little fellow took it to be a
pleasure outing. When a few drops of rain
splashed his face he crowed with delight.
He was laughing and making the sweetest
crooning noises all the way. When his car-
riage rocked like a ship on a rolling sea he
clutched my forefinger tightly, and thus for-
tified feared nothing. The roads were all
ruts and miry pools, and the journey was
long. When at last our wee bit tent came
in sight my heart thumped. Home at last !

Inside was ridiculously small. And there
were trunks and boxes, bed and stove and
sewing machine, baby's chair and baby's
crib and baby's go-cart and God knows what
else, to be stowed away in that twelve by
fourteen space. But it was a shelter from
the rain which sputtered threateningly every
minute or so, and it was warmer than out-
side. Hurrah for home!

Leaving my mother with the baby I
started off for work ( it was now about two
o'clock) and finished out the day downtown.
Alas, the rain was soon falling in a steady

downpour. Was the tent waterproof ? Was
it warm ? I could tell nothing until I returned
at nightfall. The walk over the rough roads
was painfully long. I struggled against wind
and rain, drenched to the skin. I struggled
with sticky "dobe." ("Dobe" a contrac-
tion of the Spanish "adobe," a kind of
dark loam, hard as brick in dry weather, in
wet weather sticky beyond the imagination
of anyone who has not encountered it. If
you get caught in it, it will pull your rubbers
off, even your shoes, before it lets you free.
There is only one way to overcome it, which
is to tie your feet up in gunny-sacks. Such
is the vanity of humankind, however, that the
gunny-sacks in evidence on a rainy day are
far fewer than necessity demands. The mesa
was dark, black with the blackness of a
river under storm-clouds. Where was our
tent-ship? Was it securely anchored? I saw
nothing of it until I was quite close. Faintly
the light of it shone through the mist. I
steered straight for it over the stubbly field.
Mamma sat in the middle of chaos, holding
baby wrapped in a blanket. She had been
too frightened by the noises to do anything.
The tent groaned and creaked, the ropes
that held it anchored were drawn taut and
whizzed under the wind. The canvas flapped
loudly. The whole floor was wet The
only one dry thing in that room was little
Yo (my baby) swathed in blankets in spite
of his protesting kicks. I found the coffee
pot in the corner half full of rain water. And
the coffee was in some box or other. Aha!
here it is! Now for hot coffee and hamburg-
er steak, cooked over the little oil stove.
"Hamburger steak?" sniffed Mama. "Cer-
tainly! You didn't think I'd come home
without fetching something in my pocket?
And here are fresh rolls." Did the milk
come? I told a boy to fetch you some."
"Certainly it came. Baby isn't starved, at
any rate." So we ate our supper off one
plate. Of cups, forks and spoons we had
found each one.

"What shall we do with this tent? It leaks
abominably."

I looked around and found open seams in
the canvas, a half-inch space under the base-
board, and other defects. Even the best of
tents will become water-soaked in a long,
continuous rain. Someone in the office had
told me that a "fly" was needed. A fly is a
sort of cloth roof, stretched over a center
beam a few inches higher than the ridge-pole
of the tent and extending over the eaves.
This sheds the water, protects and preserves
the tent, and makes the place cooler in Sum-
mer. Such a one as would protect our tent
costs about $6. "That will make the price

THE HOME

557

of our tent come to about $25," said Mamma.
"And any day a high wind may come and
blow the whole thing away. And we have
so many other expenses. Already I have
given the agent $25 as first payment on the
lot, and you know $g more went to the water
company to have the main water pipe tapped,
and we still must buy some piping, a faucet
and connections to get the water to the sur-
face — perhaps $3 or $4 more. That makes
about $40 for first payment on our lot and
for water, and say $24 for the tent, that's $64
already." "Yes, but think, MamaU After
this we will pay out simply the $10 a month
we used to pay for rent." "And seventy-five
cents for water-tax," added Mamma. "And
in three years the whole thing will be paid
for."

"What trees shall we plant? "

" I want a Norway pine."

" Why not have some fruit trees ? "

"A fig tree, of course."

" A couple of orange trees ? And the blos-
soms of the lemon are so fragrant."

"Those are all dwarfish trees. I'd like a
glorious spreading maple, or an oak."

"Ah, the maple is for back East, where
the Autumn frost can get in his fine work
coloring the leaves. We have no Autumn
glory here," sighed my mother.

"We'll have a honeysuckle clambering
over the back porch."

" We can grow any kind of flowers here
all Winter. Strawberries too if we want.
We're above the frost line."

" But cold enough tonight.

" The bedding is all wet."

" Well, we must manage to lie on it some-
how. I'm deadly tired."

We spread two mattresses on the floor.
Mamma's was comparatively dry. Mine
thoroughly soaked. I lay down, baby with
me, wrapped in all the dry blankets. The
icy wet penetrated my nightgown. No use
to try to sleep. I sat up. The air was cold
too. I lay down. The bed was colder.
Things had reached the point of tragedy. I
began to laugh. Why? By the same logic
that I must cry when my cup of happiness is
full. Being a woman I suppose reasons are
superfluous. Baby objected to my writhings.
He fretted. He would not rest again. He
wanted to be held. I sat up with baby in
my arms, rocking back and forth in bed,
crooning and cuddling and talking to him.
Bye, baby! Bye! Hush, my baby dear.
Mamma got her little boy! Just listen! Harki
What's that? Why, that's the wind! Patter,
patter ! Why that's little sea-horses trampling
on the roof. Sh ! Listen ! We're in a funny
kind of a ship, we're riding over a big sea.

Whole world is drowned, only not we ! Hush,
my dove ! Mamma's only little white dove 1
Bye, bye, bye, O ! He quieted at last. I
laid him down and crept to the door. By
this time the tent was full of a strange white
light. I thought the morning sun was shin-
ing through. I looked out. There the moon
was, riding uncertainly through cloud billows.
" Clusters of cloud against the moon, the
wind for a flower," the Japanese expression
of the inexplicable pathos of life recurred to
my -mind, as I glanced back at baby's dear
flower face sleeping in the moonlight. O
my own little flower ! O could I shield thee
from every harsh wind! I covered him
warmly, and waited. Neighbors' chickens
began to waken. And sweet birds trilled in
the tall grass stalks of the gully. Now warm
sunshine flooded the tent, from above, from
the sides. We needed no window. How
glorious the life in a tent ! Yo clapped his
hands. Happy, happy boy !

I went off singing to work. The mesa
held up a face radiant through tears. Every
grass blade was shining with the silver drops.
Grass ? Why, the brown mesa had put on a
robe of green overnight. The new grass
was half an inch high. Soon it would be
four inches. In mid-winter it would be knee-
deep.

Sunday was our day for setting to rights.
We hammered and sawed and swept and dug
and sweated. In the afternoon I spied a
little figure" climbing up the side of the gully.

"So hard to find you — such a long walk I
had." A Jap boy stood before me wiping
his forehead. "You like ducks ? Here are two
wild ones ; my boss shot them."

Matsuo pulled the feathers off the ducks
and we fried one in olive oil with plenty of
onion and a dash of curry. We were tired
and dirty, but happy as gypsies. We en-
joyed our supper. Mamma ate ravenously,
having been limited to a vegetarian diet for
a couple or days. The duck was delicious.

Yo licked the bones.

FLORAL POINTERS FOR
FEBRUARY

By Eva Ry man-Gaillard

GIRARD, PENNSYLVANIA

BEFORE this month ends many of us will
be making comparisons between the
number of plants we see listed in the new
catalogues, and want, and the amount of
money we can appropriate to their purchase

558

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

but the experienced ones will stop short of
getting many of the much lauded novelties.

Much of the pleasure in cultivating flowers
consists in watching the development of un-
known plants and we want a few of the new
ones, but it is the part of wisdom to make it
" a few " and let someone else try others.

Sometimes they are all that is claimed for
them ; very frequently they are worth mighty
little, and, always, they are high-priced.

When planning for the purchase of plants
a thought must be given to the number and
condition of the pots on hand, for it is alto-
gether probable that some new ones will be
needed and more than probable that a part
of those on hand will need renovating. The
price of a novelty or two will pay for enough
along this line to add more to the appearance
of the plant collection than could be added
by a dozen fine plants put into, and among, a
lot of shabby pots.

Soft-baked clay pots are the best it is pos-
sible to get for most plants, when conditions
for growth are considered, and fortunately,
the natural cream and terra cotta shades in
which they usually come blend harmoniously
with all colors found in foliage and flower
among our plants — which is more than can
be said for some of the expensive, glazed,
highly-colored and gilt-bedecked things sold
as ornamental (?) pots.

With ordinary care these pots may be
used for years before they become discolored,
but when that time comes they should be
emptied ; thoroughly scrubbed and stained —
not painted. To prepare the stain add pow-
der of whatever color is wanted to turpen-
tine, adding a very little powder at a time,
until the desired shade is secured.

English vermillion added to the turpentine
produces a color closely resembling that of
the darker pots when new ; yellow ochre pro-
duces a cream tint and burnt ochre a brown
one, while chrome-green with a very little
black gives a beautiful moss-green shade and
either of the stains gives a permanent color
to the clay without filling the pores.

In order to pot a plant in the way to in-
duce its best growth it is necessary to- take
into consideration the kind of root it natural-
ly produces. To put a plant having long,
downward-reaching roots into a broad, shal-
low pot is to invite failure, while to put one
that produces spreading roots which remain
near the surface into a deep pot is to make

sure of having a quantity of soil below the
roots which is in a condition to be worse
than useless.

Among the broad and shallow pots now
on the market we find one class listed as
fern-pots, and these are fine for any plant
having roots that spread near the surface.

A second class, even more shallow than
the first, are called bulb pans and a third
class furnishes the seed pans which are the
best possible things in which to start seeds.

The advantage gained by the use of these
pans comes from the fact that they may be
set into water and left until the soil has ab-
sorbed moisture enough. If the water is
warm the soil becomes warmed and, in any
case, there is no danger of washing out the
seeds or tiny plants.

One fine plant in a suitable pot is far more
ornamental, and gives more enjoyment to all
who see it, than two fine plants in shabby
pots and the fact should be kept in mind
when planning the window-garden campaign
for any season.

THE OLD FOLKS
By Elizabeth Rollit Burns

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

A YE, make the children happy,
*"• 'Twere blessed so to do ;
But don't forget the old folks,
Oh, make them happy too !

" The little untried footsteps
Have such a length to go ! "

So far have come the aged,
Their weary steps are slow.

" We know not what awaiteth
The journey just begun."

Much toil and grief befel them
Whose race is nearly run.

Yes, make the children happy,
Too soon will shadows loom ;

And don't forget the old folks
So near the silent tomb ;

But strive to make them happy
The while ye have them here,

With acts of thoughtful kindness,
And words of love and cheer!

THE HOME

559

LITTLE HELPS FOR HOME-
MAKERS

For each little help found suited for use in this
department, we award one year's subscription to the
National Magazine. If you are already a subscriber,
YOUR SUBSCRIPTION MUST BE PAID IN
PULL TO DATE IN ORDER TO TAKE AD-
VANTAGE OP THIS OFFER. You can then either
extend your own term or send the National to a
friend. If your little help does not appear, it
is probably because the same idea has been
offered by someone else before you. Try again.
We do not want cooking recipes, unless you have
one for a new or uncommon dish. Enclose a
stamped and self-addressed envelope if you wish
us to return or acknowledge unavailable offerings.

HOW TO CLEAN STRAINERS

By MRS. W. M. G.

Hatfield, Missouri

When your strainers become clogged and practically
useless, a lump of coarse salt, moistened and vigor-
ously applied, will prove effectual.

CURE FOR IVY POISON

By MRS. A. E. LARKIN
Ontario, California

The best and quickest cure for ivy poison is hot
water. Make a mop of a soft rag, folded several times,
dip it in hot, not warm, water and apply to the affected
part for three or four minutes, just as hot as can be
borne without scalding; repeat often, do not nib, touch
gently. If done when it first appears nothing more
will be needed ; it allays the itching at once.

DIVERS USEFUL HINTS

By C. A. DAVIS
Salem, Massachusetts

Alcohol will keep ice from forming on the windows.

Discolorations on china baking dishes and custard
cups can be removed with whiting.

Kerosene oil and soft cloth will keep mahogany fur-
niture in fine condition.

Drop vinegar will remove paint from window glass.

Use soda water in washing windows to remove
finger-marks, putty stains, etc.

BAKED EGGS

By MRS. A. J. C.

Long Branch, California

Break in a buttered gem-pan the number of eggs to
be cooked, being careful that each is whole, put upon
each a few rolled cracker crumbs ; a small piece of but-
ter, and sprinkle with pepper and salt. Adding a tea-
spoon of cream is a great improvement. Bake in the
oven until whites are firm.

CLEANING CARPET-SWEEPERS

MRS. LON CONOVER
Covington, Ohio

If you want your carpet-sweeper to do good work,
take the brush out and comb it occasionally. Do not
throw your sweepers away when they fail to sweep,
thinking the brush is worn out. The brush will last
as long as the sweeper. Just have the man of the
house lower the spring that controls the brush. In
case a mouse eats the brush a new brush can be bought
at the furniture dealer's for fifty cents.

NUGGETS OF HOMELY WISDOM

By MRS. E. E. B.
Wichita, Kansas

If when putting up fruit some of the nice juices are
canned, you have something ready for seasoning mince-
meat for Thanksgiving and Christmas pies, with very
little trouble.

To paper white-washed walls, wash with strong
vinegar-water before putting on paper.

If light cotton goods are put into cold salt water
thoroughly heated, and rinsed while hot in cold water,
there will be no more shrinking and this will set the
colors, excepting fancy colors.

Putting a little butter in cooked starch will make
the irons go more smoothly on ironing day.

Shake a little flour in pans after greasing, when
making cake; they are less liable to burn on bottom.

For cleaning combs use ammonia and brush ; rinse
in clear water.

Ammonia used on beds and mattresses will keep
them clean and free from bugs.

To clean lamp chimneys, rub first with cloth wet in
kerosene, then with soft paper or cloth.

HAVE THE EGGS COLD

By ADDIE F. WOODMAN
North Leeds, Maine

When you want eggs to come to a froth quickly,
have them almost ice-cold before you break them.

UTILIZING A CELLAR-WAY

By NOLA MAE PEACOCK
Mattawan, Michigan

On one side I have three grape baskets, nailed one
above the other, and into these I put paper sacks,
wrapping paper and newspapers, respectively. Below
these I have a small box in which I put all the wrap-
ping cord. So if I have a bundle to do up, a fowl to
singe or any need of paper or cord, I always have a
supply on hand.

I also keep my brooms here on little racks made of
two nails driven in the wall just far enough apart to
admit the broom handle between them. The cool air
of the cellar-way keeps the brooms soft and pliable.

I have a narrow shelf on one side for shoe-blacking,
stove-blacking, machine oil and other small necessary
articles, which are best kept out of sight.

TO BLACKEN A RANGE

By MRS. N. S. P.
Newtonville, Massachusetts

My friends tell me they have to take out bolts and
screws to remove the nickel trimmings when blacking
their ranges. I have one of the Model Hub Ranges
made by the Smith & Anthony Co., Boston and can
instantly remove all of its trimmings. There are no
bolts or screws to bother with — the nickel parts just
drop into slots, and can be lifted out at pleasure. I
have been told no other range has this feature.

/{OTE

COMMENT

ON THE TRAIN * <* By J. F. Conrad

DES MOINES, IOWA

THERE is no better place to get an
insight into human nature than on
a train; especially when you are travel-
ing after night, and, for some reason
that you do not care to make public,
have neglected to procure a berth. How
peculiar it is that the man who will sit
up all night and play poker or whist
down town will be found asleep, occupy-
ing two whole seats, before nine o'clock,
if he is traveling. If you ask him -to
divide the earth with you, you will be
treated to a specimen of pure selfishness
that cannot be found outside of a hog-
pen. The next legislature ought to be
compelled to furnish troughs for a part
of the traveling public. I do not mind
seeing people make a sleeper out of the
smoking-car when there is room, but I
cannot say I like to ride three hundred
miles on a wood-box while some long
cuss is stretched diagonally across two
seats and sleeping like he had no con-
science and had never been touched up
by remorse.

Not long ago I was riding in the
smoker, reading one of Katherine
Greens's thrilling "Who Do You Think
Did It's?" when an Italian family got
on — a man and his wife and two little
ones, and, owing to the crowded condi-
tion of the car, they were forced to
occupy one seat. It was about ten p. m.
Soon they began to prepare for a nap.
The little ones were laid on a seat head
to foot. Then the man and his wife sat
down on the floor in front of them and

leaned their heads and an arm on the
cushion of the seat. In this way they
kept the children from falling off and
secured for themselves a position that
was not half as uncomfortable as it
looked. It was not ten minutes until
the entire outfit was asleep, dreaming,
maybe, of "Sunny Italy." Of course it
did not look dignified, but it gave a
an idea of how a man can work for one
dollar and a quarter a day, support a
family, get drunk once in a while and
occasionally visit his native land. Those
people slept the entire night, and in the
morning they looked as fresh and happy
as if they had slept the entire night on
a four-dollar mattress. They had lunch
with them; I watched them eat, which
maybe was not good manners. They
laughed and talked in their own tongue;
they joked some; while I could not see
the point to the joke, I knew intuitively
they joked. When they had finished,
the lunch basket was closed and then
they settled down to enjoy all the
scenery. By that time they had secured
another seat, and a happier, more con-
tented family you could not find on the
train.

After that I went into the dining-car,
where the people with lower berths and
lots of money ate their breakfasts and
criticised the culinary department. At
the table next to me sat a man and his
wife and one child. The parents looked
tired and the child was cross; and they
had not slept in a seat, either; not they.

NOTE AND COMMENT

The lady began by complaining of the
chocolate; the man kicked because his
steak was either overdone or underdone.
The kid poured his milk out on the floor
and declared he wanted coffee, and
howled until he got it; then he howled
some more. They finished their break-
fasts without a smile. Maybe, though,
the man had taken his before; I could
not tell. When I came back to the
smoker and saw that Italian and his
family, happy in their contentment, it
struck me that while probably not "all
is vanity," anyhow half of it is.

I saw a mad conductor on the way.
The car was crowded with people going
to some county fair. In the seat ahead
of me was a man and his wife, I take
it, and a boy three or four-years of age.
As usual in such cases, there was an
effort made to have the little ruffian
shine. When the conductor came to
their seat, the proud parent had given
the pasteboards to the boy. "Give the
tickets to the man, Willie," said the
proud parent, with a smile on his face
that almost hid his countenance. The
mother laughed; she could not help it,
it was such a cute situation; the grand-
parents, three or four seats ahead, stood
up to see what the cute little cannibal
would do. It seemed to me they were
old enough to have known better. The
grandparents, I mean.

"Give it to the conductor, Willie,"
said the fond f. , as he shoved the little

phenomenon toward the man who had
nothing to do, hardly, but beat the road.
But Willie, true to tradition, refused to
perform. Did he give up those tickets?
Not Willie. When the fond f. tried to
do what he ought to have done in the
first place, that is, pass up the tickets
himself, Willie squeezed them in his
hand, straightened out his legs, bowed
his back and howled. When he saw he
was going to Jose out to his father and
the conductor, he made a side-step, or
something of that nature, and threw the
tickets down between the seats.

After a while the conductor dug them
out and punched them like he was trying
to cut a hole through a piece of stove-
pipe. As he passed up the aisle by me I
heard him mutter something that sounded
to me like "hell and damnation."

This was naughty in Willie and made
his parents feel tough; but they had him
doing cute things before the next station
was reached. You could not blame the
parents. If Adam could have had an
audience, he would have tried to make
Cain show off. When it comes to the
first-born we all make fools of ourselves.
A blank stare on the face of the first,
to the head of the family is a look of
inspired genius. A crusty pessimist
would say it was inspired idiocy.
But there it is again. We parents
can never see why our photographers
will persist in filling their show
cases with a lot of little mediocrities.

KILLING A JIM-CROW CAR BILL + By N. B. Huff

SPENCER, WEST VIRGINIA

IT was during the session of the West
Virginia legislature, 1893, that a mem-
ber offered what is commonly called a
"Jim-Crow" bill. As a matter of course,
the negroes of Charleston, the state cap-
ital, took immediate action to prevent,
if possible, the passage of the measure;

it had been referred to one of the house
committees and a day set to hear the pro-
test of the colored people; they held a
meeting and selected the ablest among
them to present their side of the ques-
tion before the committee.
I had paid but little attention to the

562

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

matter, but one evening, after the regular
work of the day had been done, an old
friend, a typical Southerner, said to me:

"Come with me; the colored people
have a hearing before our committee this
evening; and I feel sure that something
will happen that will interest you."

I went and have always been glad
since that I did go; for it was there that
I became convinced that the Southern
man is a better friend to the negro than
he sometimes gets credit for being. And
I am glad for another reason: it was
there that I heard an old negro make the
most effective speech, if it may so be
called, that I ever heard anywhere.

Three representatives had been select-
ed by the negroes — a minister, a teacher
and old Sam Dandridge, a former slave,
but at that time a restaurant -keeper,
who, by industry, honesty, thrift and
close attention to business, had accu-
mulated considerable property. When
we got there the speaking had begun;
the minister made a fair address, so did
the teacher; but it remained for old Sam
to win his cause.

I have heard some very able men
speak; but have never seen anyone more
completely carry his audience with him
than did that old negro. I will never
forget that simple talk. He made no
attempt at display — he was deference
itself. It was an appeal for his people,
an appeal to the heart and reason of his
auditors; simple, plain and to the point;
unembellished, but strong. He said:

" My people have sent me here to talk
for them. You have before you what is
called a 'Jim-Crow' bill. That bill pro-
vides that the railroads shall provide
separate coaches for colored people. I
am not here to dictate to you but I am
here to beg of you not to humiliate us by
the passage of this bill. You allow every
other race of mankind to ride in the
same coaches with you; why, then,
would you draw the line on us? If you
make the test a moral one, I have no
word to say against it ; we all know that
there are negroes — yes, and white men,
too — who are unfit to ride with decent

people of any color. If you draw the
line there, then there will be no complaint
from us. -

"I know that my people are of an in-

.ferior race. I know that we are not your

equals. What we are, we owe to you;

and what we are to be, depends much

on your patience with us.

"My people have erected no monu-
ments, built no great cities, left no traces
of civilization in all the past. We are
as children in your hands — help us to
better things. We cannot lead ; we must
follow. We learn by imitating you.
We have learned much ; we have much
yet to learn. All we are you have helped
us to be ; what we are yet to be depends
much on you. We live among you ; help
us to live in peace. We may try your
patience at times but bear with us.

" I was a slave myself. I belonged to
old Marsa Ruffner. When the war came
on, that gave me my freedom, Marsa
Ruffner called me to him one day, and
said to me, ' Sam, I am going away to
the war; I leave Missis and the little
ones with you ; take care of them.' And,
as God is my judge, I did take care of
them, as I would my own. For four
long, hard years I worked for them. I
ploughed the ground, planted the corn,
worked it, husked it, shelled it and took
it to the mill and got it ground to make
bread for them. I raised the hogs that
made their meat ; worked for the clothe*
that they wore and went for the doctor
for them when they were sick. And
when old Marsa came back I turned
them over to him safe and well.

" And now, suppose that old Marsa
and old Missis were living today and
were over yonder at the depot, ready to
take the train, and me and my old woman
would go there to get on the same train,
do you suppose that old Marsa would
say to me, ' Sam, you and your wife go
back yonder and get on that other coach ;
you are not good enough to ride with me
and my wife.' No, no ! He would reach
out his hand to help and say, ' Come in
here with us.' "

That blessed old negro had every one
of us so completely his friend before he
closed that a "Jim-Crow' ' bill didn't have
the ghost of a chance in that legislature.
The old fellow has since passed to the
unknown, where race, color, or previous
condition of servitude makes no differ.

NOTE AND COMMENT

563

ence. The scenes of his joys and sor-
rows are left behind. He was one of
many who proved his loyalty to his old
masters by the severest test that could
be placed on mortal man.

Loyal and true to his trust, he stood
at his post and cared for those entrusted
to him, rather than flee and fight for his
freedom.

I could not have done it; could you?

PIONEER PROSELYTING

By Charles W. Chace

DIGHTON, MASSACHUSETTS

THE picture here presented is a
photograph of an Indian gravestone
recently unearthed at Dighton, Massa-
chusetts. The stone is in a fine state of
preservation and is considered one of the
rarest of Indian curiosities. The stone
attracted so much interest that its owner
loaned it to the Old Colony Historical
Society. They placed it in the hands
of an authority on Indian hieroglyphics,
who gave the following interpretation :
The first line consists of a cross, an
Indian head and the letter V. The cross
stands for the cross of Christ, while the
V is the first letter of the Greek word
"vios," meaning son.^ Therefore these
signs are interpreted as follows: "This
Indian was the son of Christ." The
second line is composed of an arrow
aiming for a square enclosing a cross.
This shows that "The aim of his life was
toward the banner of the cross." The
third line depicts an Indian pipe of
peace, which is taken to represent the
words, "May he rest in peace." Just
beneath 'the pipe is the Greek letter
delta, or D, and it is believed that this
might stand for"Danforth," the name of
the Taunton minister who is known to
have converted many of the Indians to
the Christian faith.

THE RECORD ON STONE

The figures 68 can be plainly distin-
guished, and it is likely that they are
a part of the date, the rest of which is
effaced. It was probably "168 — " some-
thing, as it was just about that time
that Mr. Danforth was pursuing his
religious work here. The stone throws
a little light upon an almost forgotten
period.

THE RATE LAW IN COURT

A Sinister Forecast

(FROM THE NEW YORK SUN, TRUST ORGAN)

•HE year now begun is likely to be
memorable in the eyes of constitu-

tional lawyers and political economists
if congress shall sanction the experi-

564

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

ment of government rate-making for rail-
ways, which Mr. Roosevelt advocates.
We must * * * watch with profound
misgiving the making of rates for
transportation by a board some if not
all of whose members will be unquali-
fied by experience to transact such a
complicated and difficult business.

From the standpoint of expediency,
indeed, the experiment desired by the
president is almost universally con-
demned by experts, but it looks as if
it might have to be tried, in view of
the support given to the president's pro-
ject by a great majority of the house of
representatives and a large part of the
senate, and also of the acquiescent atti-

tude reluctantly adopted of late by the
Pennsylvania Railroad and some other
railway systems.

The worst feature of a law sanctioning
so grave an innovation is that, once in-
scribed upon the statute book, it cannot
be expunged easily by legislative fiat,
however disappointing and obnoxious
may be its practical results. For that
reason the best hope of those wbo fear
that government rate-making may have
tiot only perturbing but disastrous
consequences [to the stock - gambling,
law-breaking, press - court - and - legis-
lature - corrupting private monopolizers
of the public highways ] lies in the
federal tribunal.

DO you really care whether congress does or does
not pass a law giving federal officials control of
railway rates ? or does your interest in the subject
end in mere talk? If you really care, get busy. The
System— invented by the First Monopolist and chris-
tened by Tom Lawson — is fighting, tooth and claw, to
defeat the president's program, and so to hold its grip
on its monopolistic privilege of taking toll, at its own
price, from every user of the public highways — the
railroads. Heretofore the Washington Post has been
an independent American newspaper; it has been
bought by the System and is driving the System's knife
into Roosevelt's back at every opportunity. This is
just a sample of what is being done throughout the
country. It is up to you to write to your
senator and your congressman, informing
them plainly that you expect them to

support a rate bill — an honest rate bill —

if you believe the whole people, and not the System,
should rule the public highways.

The president's popularity with the people has been
a bar to the System's undisputed enjoyment of its
right of ownership in the rest of the government at
Washington. The System has set out to destroy that
popularity by pretending that Roosevelt wants im-
perial power and by insinuating scandals in affairs
under his management. Roosevelt's hands are
clean; his popularity gains with every
blow the System aims at him. The people
know that the only imperial ambition they
have to check at Washington is that of the
System. They will make this fact plain in the next
congressional elections, by smashing those represen.
tatives who may now betray them.

BROTHER CHIEFTAINS j* By Henry Rightor

(FROM "HARLEQUIN," NEW ORLEANS)

ROOSEVELT AND DIAZ

RULERS of twin republics, bronze and
pale!

Youth's vigor in the North, and to the South
The calm far-seeing wisdom of the eld!
Ye stand, ye captains of the Western world,
The very type-exemplars of the time,
The pith and progress of the living day!

Thou of the broader world-belt, keen and

strong,

Scion of gods and prophets ! Thou hast been
The forceful, silent arbiter of all
That touched the sun-dyed children of the

West!

And so has been thy rule ;

True as the wage of virtue or of sin !

Thou of the paler nation where the zones
Narrow to Northward, lo, thy way has been
Straight to the target, seeing but the end !
Great in thy youth and gentle in thy strength,
A minister and hero to the world !

Brothers in wisdom, champions of the right,
Rulers of lands that merge as stream and sea!
Fathers of peoples bound by every tie
Of common aim and common sun and moon
And common waters washing by their doors!
Thrive ye in peace and interchange of love,
Your forceful, gentle hands upon the world,
Your eyes high-fixed upon the laws of God!

FINISH OF THE CORNELL-HARVARD BOAT RACE

ITHACA — THE FOREST CITY

By Nathan Hanford

Secretary of Ithaca Business Men's Association

I yell, yell, yell, Cor-
nell!" from ten thousand lusty
lungs echoed from shore to shore across
the blue waters of Cayuga Lake. It was
the greeting of the assembled thousands
who crowded the boats, the forty-two
car observation train and peopled the
hillsides for miles along the course to
the winners of a great college boat race,
who again demonstrated the superiority
of the world-famous Cornell stroke. In-
spiriting as such a scene is, no observer
can fail to realize that Mother Nature
has been generous; that this deep blue
lake, with its fertile hillsides and rich
valley extending south from its head
and overlooked by three commanding
eminences, is in itself a beautiful pros-
pect. No wonder that it was in this
valley that the Iroquois chieftains lo-
cated their village and planted their
orchards and their corn fields, and that
Sullivan's pioneer soldiers came back to
settle the country they had devastated
during their Revolutionary service. Such
is the location of Ithaca. It is the seat
of Cornell University, which is but

thirty-eight years old and has over 8,000
graduates scattered throughout the world,
and a present attendance of 4,000 stu-
dents representing every state and ter-
ritory in the Union and nearly every
nation of Europe, Asia and America.
But not alone as a University city
' is Ithaca to be judged. Rising over 700
feet above the lake to the west is West
Hill, covered with fruit and truck gar-
dens, beautiful in the morning sunlight;
South Hill, a popular residence section,
rises 800 feet from the head of the valley,
and winding sinuously along its sides
may be seen the tracks of the Delaware,
Lackawanna & Western railroad and the
mammoth new factory buildings of the
Morse Chain Works. To the east is
East Hill, with its elegant residences, its
fine business blocks, its costly fraternity
houses, its two preparatory schools and
the campus and buildings of Cornell
University, the tower of Cornell Library
building piercing the sky 675 feet above
the main business street of the city.

Notwithstanding the hills, an excellent
street car service carries the traveler to

ITHACA — THE FOREST CITY

CHI PSI LODGE — ONE OF THE MANY FINE
FRATERNITY HOUSES ON EAST HILL

all parts of the city, over the campus
and Cornell Heights, to Renwick Park,
a cool, delightful beach at the head of
the lake, and over a beautiful scenic
route through and around Cayuga
Heights.

There are also trolley lines, now pro-
jected, connecting with Cortland, Auburn
and Elmira.

Cayuga Lake, a beautiful sheet of
water, extends forty miles north and
has an average width of a little over
two miles. During the Summer two
boats leave Ithaca each day, connect-
ing with the New York Central trains
at Cayuga. Several smaller boats make
numerous trips from the city to the
many cottages along the lake, carrying
freight as well as passengers to the vari-
ous Summer homes. Many private sail
and power boats are to be seen, some of
them fast and elegant. Along the shore
several well appointed and attractive
Summer hotels offer their hospitality,
and to the disciple of Isaac Walton the
opportunity to "wet his line." Lake
trout, black bass, pickerel and perch
are native to the lake, but during the
past few years it has been well stocked
with black bass from the United States
hatcheries, over 2,000,000 wall-eyed pike
and 50,000 perch fingerlings from the
state, and 50,000 fmgerling lake trout
also from the state hatcheries. Within
driving distance from the city are
numerous cold streams which are kept
stocked each year with brook and rain-
bow trout. Several rainbow trout weigh-
ing three pounds or over were caught
last season within four miles of the city.

The excellent shipping facilities make
Ithaca a natural manufacturing and job-
bing center, it being connected with tide
water via Cayuga Lake and Seneca

Canal to the Erie Canal, and on the
main line of the Lehigh Valley railroad,
only 263 miles from New York and 144
miles from Buffalo. A through freight
leaves New York every day on both the
Lehigh Valley and Lackawanna lines,
reaching Ithaca the next morning.
There are through sleepers over both
lines, giving eight hour passenger ser-
vice with New York City and through
sleepers giving eighteen hour service
with Chicago and the West. The Ithaca
& Auburn branch of the Lehigh Valley
system reaches Auburn, connecting with
the New York Central, and Eair Haven
on Lake Ontario, connecting with steam-
ers for the Thousand Islands and points
in Canada. The Elmira, Cortland &
Northern branch of the Lehigh Valley
gives access to the rich agricultural and
dairy regions of Central New York south
of the New York Central and reaching
to the shore of Oneida Lake.

Of the many manufacturing plants,
probably the best known is the Ithaca
Gun Company, which has grown from
a small concern to one of the largest
manufactories of high grade double guns
in the United States, with a yearly out-
put of over 25,000 guns. The Ithaca
Calendar Clock Company and the Ithaca
Autophone Company, two old and well-
established manufactories, are constantly
shipping goods to all parts of the civil-
ized world. Situated at the foot of
Seneca Hill is the Booth Hyomei fac-

iTHACA FALLS

ITHACA — THE FOREST CITY

tory. At the Inlet, near the tracks of
the Delaware, Lackavvanna & Western
and Lehigh Valley railroads, is the Cor-

the Ithaca Sign Works, whose traveling
men "drum" nearly every state in the
Union. The Fairbanks-Grant Manufac-
turing Company, on the banks of the
Inlet, manufacture gasoline engines and
power boats, and the Motor and Manu-
facturing Works Company are crowded
to their utmost capacity, manufacturing
mufflers and other specialties for use
on automobile and marine gasoline
engines. The Morse Chain Works
manufactures high speed chains; its
plant is now nearly completed and will
employ about 250 men. Its buildings
will have over 90,000 square feet of floor
space and equipment to make it one of
the most up-to-date factories of its kind
in the world.

ITHACA HOTEL AND STATE STREET

TIOGA STREET

nell Incubator Company, manufacturing
chicken brooders and incubators, and

FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

Underneath the city lies a thick strata
of salt, and three large salt plants give
employment to a large number of men —
The Ithaca Salt Plant within the city,
the large Remington Salt Plant on the
lake a mile north, and ten miles down
the lake the Ludlowville Plant, the
largest of all, their total output aggregat-
ing over 150,000 barrels yearly. At Port-
land Point, a short distance to the north
of the city, on the lake shore, is situated
the plant of the Cayuga Lake Cement
Company, manufacturing Cayuga Port-
land cement, with a capacity of about
900 barrels per day and now running to
its limit.

Several large jobbing houses send

ITHACA — THE FOREST CITY

their travelers throughout New York and
Pennsylvania and annually distribute
several million dollars' worth of goods.

The banking facilities of the city are
unexcelled. The First National Bank,
an old and conservative institution has
a capital of $250,000 and a surplus of
$85,000. The Tompkins County Na-
tional Bank has a capital of $100,000 and
a surplus of $140,000. The Ithaca Trust
Company has a capital of $100,000 and
a surplus of $100,000, with a savings
department paying interest. The Ithaca
Savings Bank, organized in 1868, has
over $2,500,000 in deposits and over
9,000 individual accounts.

Popularly known as the Forest City,
Ithaca has miles of pavement, nearly all

CLINTON HOUSE

brick, and is noted for its cleanliness;
thousands of great spreading elms, beau-
tiful maple shade trees and more well-
kept lawns and finely trimmed terraces
than any other city of its size in this
state.

Its water system, owned by the city, is
supplied by artesian wells 280 feet deep,
and is as pure and healthful as the bub-
bling cold springs where our forefathers
drank. The sewerage system, reaching all
parts of the city, is wellnigh perfect,
making it clean and healthful. Two
telephone companies with both suburban
and long distance connections offer ex-
cellent service, and three wide-awake
daily newspapers keep the people posted
on the doings of the world at large.

The public school system is justly
noted throughout the world and is one
of the features of which Ithaca is proud.
Its high school ranks in scholarship first
in the state. Its high school and gram-
mar school building is modern in its

ITHACA HIGH SCHOOL

appointments, has a seating capacity of
1,100 students and employs thirty-one
teachers. The high school has a well
equipped commercial department, giving
a four years' course in modern commer-
cial methods, manual training and do-
mestic science courses, and English,
scientific and classical courses which
prepare students for entrance to the
leading colleges. The Cascadilla and
University Preparatory schools also an-
nually prepare many students for college
entrance. The Ithaca Conservatory of
Music ranks high in musical circles; giv-
ing instruction on the violin, piano and
in all other musical branches. It also
gives instruction in elocution and physi-
cal culture. Conservatory concert troupes
tour the United States annually, and the
growth of the institution has been steady
and rapid.

The Ithaca Band, justly famous for its
high class concerts and soloists, gives
free concerts during the Summer even-
ings in the city parks and at Renwick
beach.

Lovers of the dramatic art will find

SOUTH CAYUGA STREET

ITHACA — THE FOREST CITY

ONE VIEW OF CORNELL UNIVERSITY CAMPUS

a theater modern in every respect. The
Lyceum has a seating capacity of over
1,200 people and ample stage fittings for
the most elaborate productions. The
late Sir Henry Irving and Joseph Jeffer-
son have graced it with their presence in
years past, and artists like Julia Mar-
lowe, Richard Mansfield, Mrs. Langtry
and other popular favorites usually play
here at least once each year. Lovers of
music have opportunity to hear artists
like Ysaye, Bispham, Blauvelt, Paur's
Pittsburgh orchestra and other noted
musical artists and organizations which
are brought here under the auspices of
the musical department of Cornell Uni-
versity.

Among the public institutions is a
large and well equipped city hospital,
with a separate building for infectious

diseases, and employs eighteen graduate
nurses. For Cornell students is the Cor-
nell infirmary, one of the best equipped
hospitals in the countiy valued at $50,-
ooo, with an endowment for maintenance.
Although Ithaca has, according to the
last census, about 15,000 people, exclu-
sive of students and transients, it must
be borne in mind that 5,000 and over
students, non-resident professors and in-
structors in 'the university, preparatory
schools and conservatory bring the total
population for nine months of the year
to over 20,000 people. Each of these
5,000 transients annually spends as much
as the average family of five persons.
Thus the business done and the disburse-
ments throughout, the city compare
favorably with most cities of 35,000 to
40,000 people.

By THOMAS F. ANDERSON

'Opals and turquoises are the earth's efforts to remember a sky so fair."

IT is something more than the mere
dread of cold weather that is sending
so many thousands of our northern
people to warmer climes every Winter.

The reason is not hard to find. It is
the universal desire of humanity to see
new places and enjoy new scenes and ex-
periences that is mainly responsible for
this remarkable Winter migration from
the north and east to the south and
southwest which has marked the past
decade or so.

As a nation, we are becoming strongly
addicted to the travel habit. Our people
have come to understand that travel is
education and education cannot be
placed too near the one who hungers for
a better knowledge of his own or other
lands.

That part of the winter vacation field
which appeals particularly to Americans
is a vast one. It includes several of our
southern states, notably North and South
Carolina, Georgia and Florida; Cali-
fornia, New Mexico, Arizona and

Colorado; Mexico, Cuba, Porto Rico,
Jamaica, Bermuda and other of the
emerald islands situated in that vaguely-
understood region known as the West
Indies and the more remote resorts of
the Mediterranean.

It is only a question of time when
Hawaii, the Philippines and perhaps
other of the dreamy isles of the Southern
Pacific will be added to the list of regu-
lation winter resorts.

Take the rail lines competing for
Southern California winter tourist busi-
ness, for example, and see what miracles
this spirit of competition has wrought in
the matter of speed and train appoint-
ments.

What an unbelievable contrast be-
tween the lumbering prairie schooner of
half a century ago, toiling westward with
Pike's Peak in view for ten days, and
the sumptuous and fast flying "Limited"
of today, with its rich upholstering, its
comfortable beds, its superb dining car
service, its library, barber shop, reading

WINTttR PLAYGROUNDS QF AMERICA

room and shaded observation platforms
its hourly stock market reports, and
even its wireless telegraph connections.

The fame of the matchless California
climate has been steadily growing, and
between all these things and the desire to
view the wonders of the Grand Canyon
of Arizona, the Big Trees and the
sublime scenery of the Yosemite Valley,
the winter migration toward this corner
of the union has reached almost the
proportions of an annual stampede.

They want to see the vast farms of
Nebraska and Kansas, the pueblos of the
New Mexico Indians, the fields where
five or six crops of alfalfa are harvested
every year, the orange, prune and almond
groves of California, the place where
Rainmaker Hatfield draws deluges from
blue skies, the wonderful marine gardens
of Santa Catalina, the marvelous flowers
of Pasadena and Riverside, the rolling
surf of the azure Pacific, the glorious
mountains and valleys of Central Cali-
fornia, the romantic old Spanish mis-
sions, the place where Wizard' Burbank
is working his horticultural miracles, the
oft quoted Golden Gate; and, homeward
bound, the wonders of the Yellowstone

National Park, or the haunting scenery of
Great Salt Lake, the Royal Gorge and
Pike's Peak, and the Garden of the
Gods. With such a bill of fare as this
to select from, — and this is but the half
of it — who can wonder that all the world
wants to go to California?

The Winter of 1904-5, indeed, broke
all records in this land of the "glorious"
climate.

It is estimated by the California Pro-
motion Committee, which furnished me
the figures, that these 50,000 visitors
spent while in the state $18,000,000.
Several millions more went to the trans-
continental railroads.

This was an increase of about 15,000
tourists over the total for the season of
1903-4, and a gain of $7,500,000 in
revenue from that source. Nothing could
more strikingly illustrate the ratio at
which this business is growing.

Three-fourths of the tourists travel
2,000 miles to get to Southern California,
and spend from $100 to $200 each in
railroad fares. It is probable that last
season's 50,000 paid out $10,000,000 for
railroad transportation and meals en
route.

COLORADO, THE LAND OF TURQUOIS SKIES

CANYON OF THE GRAND RIVER

COLORADO, with its Royal Gorge,
its. Pike's Peak, its Garden of the
Gods and its perennial sunshine, has
also won a place in the affections of the
Winter sojourner. Its attractions for
the tourist are thus summed up by an
enthusiastic contributor:

"Colorado is a region of well-nigh
perpetual sunshine and azure-blue skies;
the rarified air is vital with ozone and
fragrant from evergreen pine trees; the
altitude energizes and makes one want
to do things; one can go all day and
sleep like a babe all night. The place,
in fact, to thrill one with the very joy
of life.

"Thousands of eastern people spend
June, July, August and September in
Colorado because the Summer tempera-
ture does not vary much from that of
Winter. Why not spend the Winter
there, for the reason that its temperature
does not vary much from that of Sum-
mer? The rule works both ways in
Colorado.

WINTER PLAYGROUNDS OF AMERICA

THE NEW OPEN-TOP

"Ample provision
has been made for
the entertainment of
all who may come
and ranges from the
modest home life of
ready-furnished cot-
tage to that offered
by the best hotels of
the larger cities and
resort places.

"All kinds of out-
of-door sports flour-
ish in Colorado dur-
ing the Winter sea-
son, and splendid
facilities for their
enjoyment are pro-
vided at all the prin-
cipal centers of pop-
ulation throughout
the state. Not only

golf, but polo, tennis and kindred pas-
times.

"Country clubs, riding and driving
clubs, cricket, gun, rifle, coursing, base-
ball, foot-ball and hunting clubs abound.
In the foot hills and mountains there
are mineral springs and other health
resorts, where the lovers of open air
sports can find ample entertainment dur-
ing the Winter months. It is indeed
very evident that Nature has ordained
Colorado to be an all-the-year play-
ground, and has appointed the great
transportation systems as special min-
isters to see that her purposes are
promptly carried out.

"Scattered over the entire state are
cities, towns and pleasure resorts so
numerous that it would require months
to visit them all. One may enjoy the
metropolitan life of Denver, the pretty
capital city, or the more exclusive life of

OBSERVATION CARS ON
GRANDE RAILROAD

THE DENVER & RIO

Colorado Springs; may loiter at the far-
famed Manitou at the foot of Pike's
Peak surrounded by an amphitheater
of hills; may linger in the busy city of
Pueblo or slip away to Canyon City in
the sunny valley nearby.

"Everywhere among the valleys and
hills one may find picturesque spots and
quiet retreats. The train service on all
lines in Colorado is excellent and no
difficulty will be experienced in reaching
any place, nor in securing proper accom-
modations after getting there.

"Game is plentiful, and if the votary
of strenuous life chooses to shoulder
a gun and go out and bring down a
bear, or mountain lion, he may. Those
less ardent in the pursuit of sport will
find water-fowl and shore-birds more to
their liking. Camping outfits and hunt-
ing equipment are readily obtained after
the state is reached."

OUR SOUTHERN

LAND OF THE SKY

THE fine art of discovery in America
* did not end with the generation of
Columbus. We are constantly finding
out new things about ourselves, — new
mammoth caves, new waterfalls, new
hunting and fishing regions; and we
have even discovered that there are
Winter vacation resorts that are pretty
good Summer vacation resorts as well.
One of these latter discoveries has been

made in our Sunny South, in one section
of which we find a somewhat remarkable
state of affairs, for while people from
the North go thither to escape the rigors
of the Winter, discriminating ladies and
gentlemen from the farther South repair
there to get relief from the heat of
Summer.

The mountain section of North Caro-
lina, therefore, and particularly that part

WINTER PLAYGROUNDS OF AMERICA

of it known by the euphonious name of
Sapphire Country has come to be an all-
the-year-round resort, with its attractive
hotels and inns catering in Winter to
northerners and in Summer to south-
erners.

The "Sapphire Country" is some-
thing comparatively new in the lexicon
of the tourist. He has, however, known
for many years about the "Land of the
Sky" — another poetic and appropriate
designation; and the Sapphire Country
is in reality a recently discovered part of
the Land of the Sky.

The North Carolina mountains have
long been a popular retreat for northern

are suffering from overwork or nervous
exhaustion it is a natural sanitorium.

In a scenic way the place can hardly
be surpassed. The salient features of
the landscape are the romantic Blue
Ridge mountains and the picturesque
French Broad river, in themselves a
scenic feast sufficient for a lifetime of
contemplation. The whole country here-
abouts is a land of mountains and valleys
and limpid lakes and gurgling streams —
for the Land of the Sky takes in, beside
the Blue Ridge peaks, those of the Iron,
Smoky and Unaka ranges in Tennessee.

Here is the Winter paradise of the
hunter and fisherman — and the moon-

SCENE ALONG THE SOUTHERN RAILWAY

people who like to live for a while in
a moderate Winter temperature, not
wishing to go to the more remote south
where conditions are more tropical, and
perhaps more enervating.

Asheville has for years been the great
rallying point for Winter pleasure and
rest seekers. It is there that the finest
hotels in that part of the South are
located, and it is there that Millionaire
George W. Vanderbilt's magnificent
estate, "Biltmore," evokes the admira-
tion of all who pass through by train or
carriage.

Asheville has a high altitude (no part
of the Land of the Sky is less than 2,000
feet above the sea), and for those who

shiner. The latter you sometimes meet
at a little way station where the train
stops, shackled in a neighborly sort of
way to the left arm of the sheriff. One
always knows where he is ticketed to.

Many of the mountains hereabouts
have an altitude of 6,000 feet or more,
and there is at least one that proudly
rears its summit higher than Mt. Wash-
ington. Trails lead up the sides of some
of them, but many are as yet practically
unexplored.

Mountain climbing, riding and hunt-
ing and fishing occupy the attention of
many of the fortunate Winter guests at
Asheville, Toxaway and the other resort
centers, but most of them give up their

WINTER PLAYGROUNDS OF AMERICA

time to golf and tennis, the former being
in great favor.

The "Sapphire Country" is that con-
tiguous to the -lovely lakes Toxaway,
Fairfield and Sapphire. These bodies
of water are of surpassing beauty and
clearness, surrounded by primitive forests
and exceeding in loveliness, many con-
tend, the far-famed sheets of the English
Lake Country.

The adjacent mountains have a bold-

ness and grandeur not found in other
parts of the Land of the Sky, the forests
are balsamic and health-giving and the
lakes themselves are as blue and as deep
as lakes could imaginably be.

There are cascades and waterfalls by
the dozen scattered throughout this pic-
turesque country, one of them having a
drop of 370 feet. In few places can the
artist or the lover of out-door life get
more for his time and his money.

FLORIDA, THE LAND OF WINTER ENCHANTMENT

IT is in sunny Florida that the enjoy-
' ment of out-door life in Winter has
reached the proportions of a fine art.

Nearly 2,000 miles nearer the more
crowded centers of the East and North
than California, this remarkable state of
flowers and sand and unending Summer
has been a popular resort for a genera-
tion.

It has no Yosemite, no Big Trees, no"
Santa Clara Valley; but it does have its
St. Augustine, its Indian River, its Palm
Beach and its orange groves and pine-
apple plantations. It has no Catholic
missions, but it has, in St. Augustine,
its ancient Fort Marion and its old slave
market.

Its St. John's river contains real water,
and is a nobler stream than So.uthern
California can boast of. If you want to
get intoxicated — in a mild and harmless
way — just take a trip up that river to
Palatka or Sanford.

If the overpowering fragrance of the
orange blossoms wafted from either
shore does not set the wedding bells
ringing in your head and instantly carry
you away from your own world and its
cares, then you are a hopeless materialist
and might just as well spend your vaca-
tion in Death Valley.

St. Augustine is the great social ren-
dezvous, and here, while the February
blizzards are rampaging across New Eng-
land, you will find young men in tennis
suits and straw hats and young women
in immaculate white duck conducting
themselves as if there never was such a
thing as Winter in North America.

You will see others lazily bathing in
the surf at Anastasia Island. In the way-
side gardens and in the sunny courtyards
of the palaces called, for want of a better

name, hotels, flowers are blooming pro-
fusely. The visitor rubs his eyes and
wonders if it isn't all a dream.

St. Augustine can come pretty near
beating the world, with respect to resort
hotels, and the fame of its magnificent
hostelries is known around the globe.

Jacksonville, which is somewhat north
of St. Augustine, is a favorite way sta-
tion with many tourists, but the trend of
travel is further south to St. Augustine,
Ormond-on-the- Halifax, where the fam-
ous automobile races are held on the
wonderful white beach; to Rockledge en
the Indian river, where the. moonlight
effects are nothing less than bewitching;
to Daytona, and Palatka, and Sanford
and Palm Beach and Punta Gorda, and
Tarpon Springs, and Ocala, and Or-
lando and Enterprise, Miami, Winter
Park, St. Lucie, Orange City, and even
to quaint Key West, from whence it is
but a step to Cuba.

Each of these places has its individual
attractions, and one of them, Palm
Beach, has a sort of dual existence, one
section being on the shores of tropical
Lake Worth and the other on the sea-
shore facing the Atlantic.

Tampa is a place of other palatial
hotels — it seems the only term to use —
and is a resort which, like St. Augustine,
has been built up by the enterprise and
liberality of men identified with trans-
portation enterprises.

Florida was a pioneer in the introduc-
tion of the English houseboat, and some
of the finest of these floating hotels ever
built in this country are to be seen along
the Indian river. Some of these are
privately owned and are sumptuously fur-
nished, even to the detail of bathrooms
and pianos. Others are maintained as

WINTER PLAYGROUNDS OF AMERICA

peripatetic hotels, and there is a story
told of one houseboat manager who used
to rout out all of his guests at an early
hour every morning and make them go
and fish for their breakfasts. This is no

very difficult matter in Florida, for there
are several hundred varieties of fish in
its waters, and in the case of a house-
boat, it is merely a matter of lifting a
trap-door and dropping in your line.

THE TROPIC WEST INDIES GROW IN POPULARITY

WINTER travel to the West Indies is
steadily increasing, and in conse-
quence a marked change has taken place
in the transportation facilities. The
points in this semi-tropical corner of the
Atlantic most favored by tourists are
Bermuda, New Providence (Nassau),
Cuba, Jamaica, Porto Rico and Martini-
que, the latter being still of world- wide
interest on account of the dreadful erup-
tion of Mount Pelee a couple of years
ago.

From Boston, New York, Philadel-
phia, Baltimore and New Orleans there
are excellent steamship lines to many of
these lovely palm-fringed islands. From
New York there is also a good service to

Venezuela, Grenada, Port au Prince,
Trinidad and other places to which the
ubiquitous globe-trotter is gradually find-
ing his way.

Both Porto Rico and Cuba have a his-
toric interest to Americans, and are at-
tracting a good deal of tourist travel as
well as interesting investors and business
men. ' Aside from their natural charms,
Jamaica is interesting because it is under
the British flag, Hayti because it is a
black republic, and Martinique because
it is French territory. At St. Thomas
the Danish flag flies. The entire Carib-
bean region, indeed, is one of the world's
most cosmopolitan archipelagoes. Many
nations and all kinds of racesdominate.

PORT ANTONIO, JAMAICA

GENERAL VIEW OF GRAND CANYON OF ARIZONA

THE TRAIL OF THE ARGONAUTS

The SANTA FE ROUTE and its
Peerless Transcontinental Service

IT would be difficult to name a transpor-
* tation company that plays a more im-
portant part in Winter tourist travel than
the Santa Fe — the pioneer, the historic
line to California. This superb highway
of steel follows the old Santa Fe trail
blazed by the sturdy gold hunters of '49.
"The Sante Fe Trail!" The very words
seem to flash adown the aisles of time
and bring forth a vision of prairie
schooners drawn by plodding oxen
wending their weary way over the seem-
ingly endless expanse of desert and
plain. One fancies, too, the eager gaze
of those daring men — those argonauts—
with faces turned toward the setting sun
— those modern Jasons searching for the
Golden Fleece hid in the shining sands

and stones far beyond the Rocky moun-
tains. But today -\s one fairly "skims"
over the same trail in the "California
Limited' ' — splendid palaces awheel, with
not only every necessity but every de-
sire catered to — cr tarries along the way
to enjoy the beauties or behold the won-
ders of Nature, the contrast forces .itself
upon one and awakens emotions in which
are commingled both pathos and grati-
tude. But sentiment aside, the Santa
Fe is preeminently the way to the South-
western Wonderland, and the Winter
playground region of California. Cen-
tered in Chicago, where the Winter
storm king lashes Lake Michigan into
a raging fury, it has its terminus where
the roses and poppies are blooming and

THE TRAIL OF THE ARGONAUTS

the blue waves of the Pacific are placidly
lapping the sun-kissed strand.

All lines leading across the middle
West traverse practically the same kind
Of territory. But from the time the
Santa Fe emerges from Colorado into
New Mexico through the Raton tunnel,
one seems to have been transported to
another country, so changed is every-
thing. The journey is interesting, even
though one never wandered from the
main line — the tiny adobe dwellings fes-
tooned with flaming strings of red pep-
pers; the Indians in picturesque gar-
ments at each stopping place, offering

through his courtesy that the patrons of
the Santa Fe are permitted to enjoy their
beauty and charm.

One cannot, however, make a flying
trip from Chicago to San Diego and get
more than a mere hint of the wonderland
referred to. One must loiter, must ex-
plore, for it includes a vast area of New
Mexico and Arizona, yet may well be
classed as the Grand Canyon region.

In this limit will be found the largest
and most beautiful of all petrified forests:
the largest natural bridge in the world
— 200 feet high, over 500 feet span, and
over 600 feet wide with an orchard on

INDIAN PUEBLO AT LACUNA

their wares of beads, baskets and potteries
to the passengers; the fine curio rooms
which are a feature of some of the din-
ing stations, and which contain wellnigh
every product of handiwork wrought by
Indians of various tribes, together with
an equally interesting display of Mexi-
can wares — drawn linens, laces and fili-
gree silverware. The most important of
these curio collections is at Albuquer-
que, New Mexico, with branches at
Williams and Grand Canyon. It was
through the energy and bounty of Mr.
Fred Harvey that these rare bits of
handicraft were gathered together, and

its top and miles of stalactite caves
under its abutments.

The largest variety and display of
geologically recent volcanic action in
North America; the most impressive
villages of pre-historic cave-dwellers; the
many-storied cliff-dwellings of the abor-
igines; ruins of old missions reared by
the Franciscans three centuries ago, be-
side many other things that make this
region a mecca to the archaeologist, the
geologist and for that ubiquitous pro-
duct of modern times — the every-day
tourist! Then there is the greatest won-
der of all this great wonderland — the

THE TRAIL OF THE ARGONAUTS

Grand Canyon of Arizona. But that is
a different story. It isn't like anything
else in the world. Majestic, imposing,
awesome, yet at the same time it is a
haven of rest and quiet and peace. With

a sacrilege, for the indescribable, subtle
"something" that-most appeals to one is
as intangible as the rainbow and as elu-
sive as the breath of a flower.
In the accompanying sonnets I have

HOTEL DEL CORONADO, SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

all its magnificent glory, it belongs to
the people, to f have and to hold forever!
Surrounded by miles and miles of virgin
pine forests nestled beneath a dome of
turquoise-blue, the government of the
United States has reserved it as a play-
ground and show-place for all time.

Describe it? Whoever has looked
upon that stupendous chasm with its
mad riot of color, shifting, changing with
each fantastic mood like a thing of life,
and has felt the terror of its abysmal
depths, its absolute silences, or has
yielded to the wooing, luring charm of
that mystic presence so all-pervasive
there — such one will understand how
vain the effort. Artists with brush and
pen and camera, have essayed the task;
they have done excellent work, but the
subject is beyond the scope of paint or
ink or photographic art. To lay the
measuring rod upon it, or to compute its
dimensions in figures convevs no ade-
quate idea of it. In fact, it is almost

striven to voice my own personal impres-
sions, but no one knows so well as
myself how little I have expressed of the
inexpressible!

Since the -completion of the branch
road, the Grand Canyon is reached in
three hours from Williams, Arizona.
There are two trains daily, each way,
with Pullman service. Stopover privi-
leges are allowed on all railroad and
Pullman tickets. Now that the canyon
is so easily accessible thousands of tour-
ists are seeing it. The splendid new
hotel "El Tovar,'/ under Harvey man-
agement, is also a strong drawing-card.

It is a fad of the Santa Fe and of
Mr. Harvey to name their finest railway
station hotels after the Spaniards of the
conquest. The Alvarado, at Albuquer-
que, commemorates Captain Hernando
de Alvarado, commander of artillery for
Coronado's expedition and the first
European to visit Acoma. The Cas-
taneda, at Las Vegas, is named for

THE TRAIL OF THE ARGONAUTS

Pedro de Castaneda, of Najeras, Spain,
the principal historian of Coronado's
expedition. The Cardenas, at Trinidad,
keeps green the memory of Don Garcia
Lopez de Cardenas, a captain in Coro-
nado's army.

Though not the first white man to see
this sublimest of gorges, Tovar was
largely instrumental in its discovery, so
when the Santa Fe needed an appropri-
ate name for the new hotel at Bright
Angel, El Tovar was selected. It seems
pertinent to add in this connection that
the Del Coronado at Coronado Beach,
California, perpetuates the name of the
great Spanish leader himself — and as
Coronado led his band of able lieuten-
ants, so, indeed, does Del Coronado lead
in this chain of fine hostelries that makes
travel via the Santa Fe a pleasure, a
delight.

The architect who planned El Tovar

bine in admirable proportions the Swiss
chalet and the Norwegian villa. Its
dominant features are quiet dignity, un-
assuming luxury and regard tor outing
needs. Nothing to suggest a great
metropolitan hotel, but rather a million-
aire club-house in the Adirondacks. El
Tovar commands a prospect without a
parallel. Seven thousand feet above
sea-level, on the very verge of the rock-
walled canyon itself, a perpendicular
mile from rim to river and thirteen dizzy
miles across to the opposite canyon wall,
is the story of the measuring line. The
roaring Colorado below looks like a sil-
very thread. Its tumult seldom reaches
the stillness of the upper air. On three
sides are the fragrant pines of Coconino,
a government forest reserve, and the
largest continuous belt of pine timber
in the United States. Everywhere a
riot of color and beauty of form, with

HOTEL EL TOVAR

was truly an artist. It is a long, low, ram-
bling edifice, built of native boulders
and pine logs, with accommodations for
250 guests. The lines are in perfect
harmony with the surroundings and com-

El Tovar fitting in as a component part
of the fascinating picture. On, on to
the West goes the Santa Fe main line,
till it terminates in the very heart of the
California*playgrounds.

The

Grand Canyon
of Arizona

TITANIC gorge, O, chasm glory-crowned!
As on thy dizzy rim I stand, aghast,
And view the work of countless ages past
I seem to tread, awe-thrilled, on holy ground.
Here Nature, as the cycling years went round
With tireless chisel modeled sculptures vast,
And painted matchless pictures, color-fast,
'Mid silences and solitudes profound!
What pygmies, then, seem greatest ones of earth,

When they would rudely wrest from out thy heart,
By brutal force or scientific art,
The message whispered thee ere man had birth.
Proud monument of centuries agone
Thy secret hold as doth the soul its own!

I glance adown absymal depths below —

Athwart a coliseum crimson gold,

And people it with stalwart gods of old
I fancy, too, the Muses come and go

And hold their rites and revels free and bold —

That haunted are thy temples manifold
By artists' spirits wand' ring to and fro.
No miracle art thou, O canyon grand,

Tho' aeons old when pyramids were new;

Incarnate riddle, sphinx, arched o'er with blue,
Thy cipher-key .awaits the master hand
But worthy, worthy, worthy must he be

Who lures thy truth, thy mystery, from thee!

Mildred S. McFaden

AMERICA'S GREAT SCENIC LINE

Wonders of the Rockies, as Revealed by the
DENVER & RIO GRANDE

THE dominant idea in all pleasure
travel is to behold new scenes and
new places, to awaken new sensations
and to enlarge one's observations and
experiences. Nowhere else in the world
are conditions more favorable to such
results than in Colorado and the Rocky
Mountains.

Arriving at Denver, the gateway of the
West, the tourist in search of the beauti-
ful, the picturesque and the novel, al-
though in the midst of metropolitan sur-
roundings with accompanying luxuries
of modern civilization, finds himself face
to face with Nature. Art may environ
him on every hand, architecture may pile
itself in towering structures all about
him, but Nature, in a mood perhaps
new and strange to him, commands his
attention. One glance upward and west-
ward brings before his vision that mighty
procession of giant peaks marching from
north to south as far as the eye can
reach. This snow-crowned range, with
Pike's Peak well to the fore, forms the
front range to the Rocky Moun-
tains. This grand parade of
mountains, silent, majestic, som-
bre, facing the level plains to
the east, never fails to create a
profound and lasting impression,
and like the thrilling prelude
to some immortal aria, or the
passionate overture to some grand
but tragic opera, forms a fitting
introduction to the delights, the
grandeurs and the glories that
lie beyond in the heart of the
Rockies.

Of the railroads centering in
Denver and
furnishing
transportation
facilities for
the vast influx
of rest and
pleasure seek-
ers from other
sections of the
country, the
Denver & Rio
Grande is most
important. One
cannot traverse

the various lines of this great system
without marveling at what it has ac-
complished.

' "Whatsoever lieth in thy way subdue
it," commands the Book of Books. This
divine injunction has evidently been the
watchword of the Denver & Rio Grande
from its incipiency, for it has scaled the
cliffs, penetrated the canyons, climbed
the mountains, leaped the rivers and tra-
versed the valleys of Colorado so com-
pletely that the grandest scenes of nature
spread themselves out like some vast
panorama wherever it has stretched its
shining ribbons of steel.

The traveler en route from Denver to
the far West over this scenic line will
enjoy a continuous succession of delight-
ful experiences. Not only does it touch
wellnigh every resort place of importance
in the state, the most noted hunting and
fishing grounds and idylic beauty spots,
but it leads through canyons and gorges
of indescribable grandeur — scenes that
fill the soul with awe, with emotion, with

AMERICA'S GREAT SCENIC LINE

MARSHALL PASS AND MOUNT OURAY

reverence; so close to Nature "one can
almost feel her heart beat; so close to
the Infinite one fain would shout "Ho-
sajia!" No one who ever journeys
through this realm of grandeur will ever
forget it. Indeed no one can forget
the Royal Gorge, the Canyon of the
Eagle river, the Canyon of the Grand
river, with their matchless masonry and
exquisite colorings. Or if one chooses
the Marshall Pass way, no less inspiring
are the Black Canyon of the Gunnison,
Curicanti Needle, the lovely Chipeta
Falls and the sinuous, zigzag
trail to Marshall Pass 11,000
feet above the sea and over-
shadowed by the hoary head
of Mt. Ouray. Either route
leads through the Canyon of
the Arkansas river and its
crowning glory — the Royal
Gorge, spectacular, awe-in-
spiring, magnificent! Down
this mighty cleft in the heart
of the granite rushes the mad
water of the Arkansas, lashed
into foaming fury by its head-
long descent through the
tortuous defile. So nar-
row is the passage at
one place it absolutely
refused right-of-way to
the encroaching rails, so
a bridge of steel had to
be thrown lengthwise of
the stream and is sus-

pended from
iron supports
mortised into the
canyon walls.
At this point
the mighty gorge
reaches its
climax. For
nearly 3,000 feet
the solid mono-
liths tower up-
ward till seem-
ingly they pierce
the azure-blue of
heaven's dome
above.

The Denver &
Rio Grande, with
characteristic
enterprise, have
put into service
superb open-top
observation cars,
so that patrons
of this road may

enjoy an unobstructed view of this mas-
terpiece of the Rockies.

Travel via this scenic line has during
the past year been unprecedented, phe-
nomenal! With its elegant trains, splen-
did equipment and perfect service, it
stands for all that is best in modern
travel.

The Denver & Rio Grande being a
part of a great, through trans-continental
line, the journey continues on to Salt
Lake City and Ogden and thence to the
Pacific coast.

COLORADO MINES IN EAGLE RIVER CANYON

The Royal Gorge
of Colorado

STUPENDOUS chasm!
sombre, awesome, grand ! •
Mute record of a long-gone !

tragic hour
When Nature, frenzied with

impelling power,
In majesty and with most royal

hand
Did smite the earth heart-deep.

The quivering land
Convulsive shook, in terror

dread did cower,
Before this goddess, abso-
lute, whose dower
Doth place the elements at her
command !

BUT Nature compensates.
Repentant she

Beheld the awful chasm, pas-
sion-wrought —
From mystic looms transpar-
ent fabrics brought
And veiled the gorge with rain-
bow tapestry.
A haunting presence, full of

mystery,

Abides and whispers of In-
finity !

[Mildred S. [McFdden.

WHERE RAIL AND RIVER MEET

THE HIGHLANDS OF THE TROPICS

Historic Mexico's Upland Regions
May be Reached in Comfort via

MEXICAN CENTRAL RAILWAY

HORSESHOE OF MEXICO'S NIAGARA, JUANACAT-
LAN FALLS, MEXICO

TO that delightful region in Mexico
known as the "Highlands of the
Tropics" many Americans are now-a-
days repairing for rest and pleasure. Tn
fact our long neglected sister, just over
the way, with her romantic history and
picturesque peoples; her blue skies and
balmy breezes is becoming each year
more and more a rendezvous for tour-
ists. Certainly no other country offers
a more complete exemption or surcease
from the strenuousity of our twentieth
century national life than the fascinating
republic across the border. Let us then
revel in her delights and pleasures now,
for with the American spirit and enter-
prise that is already pervading her, com-
mercially and industrially, Mexico will
in time lose much of that peculiar charm
so captivating to the rover today.

El Paso, Texas, is one of the very im-
portant gateways into this realm of ro-
mance. At this point several great
trunk lines — the Southern Pacific, the
Santa Fe, the Rock Island, the Texas
Pacific, the Missouri, Kansas & Texas
and the Frisco — bring their quota of
passengers from different parts of the

country and make connections at Juarez,
just across the Rio Grande river, with
the Mexican Central, with its palatial
trains, bound for the great commercial
centers as well as the show-places and
playground sections of old Mexico.
To give the reader some idea of the
magnitude and scope of the vast railway
system known as the "Mexican Central,"
it is opportune to say that it represents
3,500 miles of track, threads the very
heart of the Republic, unites the slopes
of the Pacific with the shores of the Gulf
of Mexico, is standard guage — standard
in everything in fact — from start to
finish. One can readily understand
what an important factor it has been in
the "awakening" of Mexico and what
a wondrous power it is now proving in
placing her where she belongs amongst
the great nations of the world.

Tourists on pleasure bent will not ex-
perience a dull mile between El Paso
and the City of Mexico. Things novel
and strange, places of historic interest,
magnificent scenery, comfort, pleasure
and entertainment tell the story of the
trip.

The City of Mexico is preeminent-
ly the magnet of this old-new Southland.
Its founding lies wrapped in the mystery
of the past, but it was a city of a million
souls, with beautiful palaces, splendid
markets, fine parks and magnificent gar-
dens, when Cortez knocked at its gates
nearly four hundred years ago, and is
now one of the show-places of the -world.
No less alluring are its suburban attrac-
tions especially Chapultepec and Guada-
lupe. Chapultepec, three miles from the
city, is reached by the world-famous
drive, "The Passeo." This drive is
lined on either side by exquisite statuary
and at intervals swings into circles
around in\mense bronzes of the Aztec
chieftains. The place itself is fraught
with memories of Montezuma. On top
of the hill, which commands an excellent
view of the City of Mexico, was his
palace surrounded by a park of immense
trees. One of these, called Montezuma's
tree is thirty feet in diameter. Chapul-

THE HIGHLANDS OF THE TROPICS

tepee is the home of President Diaz.
Another place of interest is the Noche
Triste Tree, where Cortez rested and
wept after his expulsion from the city on
the night of July i, 1520.

Guadalupe is renowned as being the
most holy shrine and having the most
costly chapel, of any city in the world.
The altar is. surrounded by a solid silver
railing weighing twenty-five tons. The
candelabras and candlesticks are of pure
gold and the paintings and decorations
are superb. This church is dedicated
to the Holy Virgin of Guadalupa— the
patron saint of all the Indians. On the
tenth of December each year they come
from all parts of Mexico to worship at
her shrine. A pretty tradition en-
shrines it.

But just across the mountains that lie
to the south of the City of Mexico is
a region of perennial sunshine and
scenic splendor that no tourist can re-
sist, for the fame of Guadalajara and
Cuernavaca has gone abroad, and such
seductive stories have been told concern-
ing them that human desire stands a tip-
toe to see them.

Guadalajara is, by many travelers, pro-
nounced the most beautiful city in
Mexico, and its well -paved streets,
numerous parks and gardens filled with
tropical trees and plants, splendid pub-
lic buildings and churches of dazzling
whiteness, go well to prove the claim.
It is beautifully located and the climate
is perfect. The Degollado theater is

THE ABYSMAL LEAP, SAN ANTON
CUERNAVACA, MEXICO

FALLS

^COFFEE DRYING UNDER TROPICAL SUN, ORIZABA
.PEAK IN DISTANCE, ORIZABA, MEXICO

one of the largest on the continent, and
the state palace, a fine specimen of
Mexican architecture. Beside the sight-
seeing, the chief attraction in Guadala-
jara is the beautiful pottery, for which
the city has been famous for nearly three
hundred years.

Cuernavaca is one of the most delight-
ful cities in all Mexico, and has been a
resort of the rulers of the country from
Cortez to Maximilian. The La Borda
Gardens alone are worth the visit here,
to say nothing of the surrounding vil-
lages of the most primitive sort. The
climate is wonderful, and natural scenery
of surpassing beauty— a perpetual June-
time. Cool in Summer because a mile
above the sea; warm in Winter because
the equator is but a few degrees to the
south.

If one chooses to leave the "high-
lands" and wander Vera Cruzward, an
earthly paradise spreads out along the
way — a paradise where palm trees wave,
where the sugar a IK! pineapples grow,
where tangled ferns fringe the forests,
where coffee*trees and orange shade the
village lanes, where the orchid is as com-
mon as the rose, and where the ambient
air is fragrant with the perfume of a
thousand flowers.

This is indeed the very heart of the
tropics. In fact, every degree of alti-
tude from sea-level to snow-line, and
every variety of soil and climate and
scenery is found along the lines of the
Mexican Central.

SUNNY SAN ANTONIO: -

GEM OF THE SOUTHWEST

A MAGIC
abides just
now in the
simple word
" southwest. "
A t the mere
mention of it a
most fascina-
ting picture
spreads itself
like some vast
and pleasing

panorama before the mental vision — a
picture above which hangs luminous,
refulgent and radiant, the Lone Star
of Texas. As a Winter playground
the great state of Texas is becoming
more and more popular each year.
Its well-nigh continuous sunshine
and balmy air, its delightful resort places,
its excellent hunting, fishing and bathing
along the Gulf coast, draw an ever-in-
creasing influx of visitors from less-
favored climes.

Then, too, history and legend have
woven their subtle spell throughout the
length and breadth of this empire-com-
monwealth. But in this particular San
Antonio, with her*time-stained, time-
honored Alamo stands preeminent. It
was here that Spanish priests and sol-
diers built the first milestones of western
progress; here the red and yellow ban-
ners of Castile were flaunted to the
southern breezes; here a mere handful
of Texas frontiersmen threw off the
Mexican yoke in the most daring and
spectacular warfare ever waged in any
land, and here, too, more than half a
century ago "Old Glory" took the young
republic into safe keeping, since which
time it has developed into an empire in-

deed. And as the Texas spirit still
pervades this great empire of the
southwest, so does the spirit of Travis
and Crockett and Bowie still per-
vade the gray old adobe, the venerated
Alamo.

The pathetic story of the Alamo has
ever held for me a peculiar fascination.
It is not wonderful then that on my first
visit to San Antonio I went straight
from rny sleeper to this historic, tragedy-
haunted old pile. Indescribable emo-
tions thrilled me as I wandered with
reverent tread along the dim corridors
or paused to read the legends an the
walls relating the progress and details
of that terrible siege; noticed where the
"dead line" had been drawn, and stood
with tear-dimmed eyes in the little nook
of a room where brave Bowie breathed
his last, his body literally transfixed by
a score of Mexican bayonets; nor could
I find it in my heart to censure poor

THE ALAMO DECORATED FOR SAN JAC1NTO
ANNIVERSARY

Rose in whose soul the joy of life was
too intense to become a willing martyr.
Yet as he was never heard of after the

SUNNY SAN ANTONIO : GEM OF THE SOUTHWEST

eventful night of escape there is little
doubt that
he also met
death, and
that, too,
without the
glory and
honor that
must hence-
forth en-
shrine the
memory of
his c o m-
rades. His-
toric and
interesting?

Yes; but how TUB

sweet it was to get
out into the golden sun- JjjL-
shine, and loiter along ('f
the beautiful Alamo plaza &
with its riot of blossoms THE DOOR OF SAN
and feathery palm trees; J°SE MISSION
to look up to the blue
skies that brood so tenderly over this
fair city and simply to live in the glori-
ous, peaceful present.

San Antonio, lying near the Mexican
border in the health-belt of Texas, never

loses its charm for visitors. The city is
cosmopolitan in the broadest sense and
portrays a most picturesque contrast and
commingling of Latin and American
peoples and customs. The climate is
delightful; there are beautiful parks and
drives; the myrtle-fringed "Old San-
tone" river, spanned by many bridges,
winds in sinuous bends and turns in and
about the city, while the slowly-crum-
bling old missions, where devout men
still live and pray, seem living links
between the Seventeenth and Twentieth
centuries.

Most of the Texas resorts are linked
together by the rails of the Missouri,
Kansas & Texas railway, which has in
fact, been the dominant factor in the
opening up and development of that
vast and fertile area known as "the
Southwest."

Had I space at my command, I should
like to tell about Galveston, with its
famous beach, its thirty-mile drive along
the Gulf shore, its "oyster roasts," its
tarpon fishing and its gay Winter out-
door sports, and would slip over the
border into Old Mexico with its romance
and traditions and picturesqueness.

THE SALT LAKE ROUTE

From the "City of Saints"

to the "City of Angels' ' —
The New Short Line to

CALIFORNIA FLAG ROUNDS

THE completion of San Pedro, Los
Angeles and Salt Lake railroad pro-
vides a new and most excellent service
between Salt Lake and southern Cali-
fornia. This road, popularly known as
the Salt Lake Route, demonstrates the
dominant feature in modern railroad
building, directness, for it goes "straight
as the crow flies" between starting and
objective points. It has clipped many
miles from the distance that hitherto
had to be covered between Salt Lake
City and Los Angeles. This consequent
saving of time, distance and money is
a factor not to be overlooked.* The
fundamental idea in travel of today is
to "get there," and the line that offers
the quickest transit is the line that
catches and holds the popular fancy.
The tourist from the East en route to
California playgrounds will loiter a day
or two in the "City of the Saints" — a
city without a parallel anywhere, and
one fraught with peculiar fascination for
sightseers.

Leaving Salt Lake City, the Salt Lake
route traverses the mineralized section of
Utah, crossing the Utah-Nevada state
line at Uvada, and within a couple of
hours arrives at Caliente, the outfitting
point for the Goldfield mining camps.
Sixty miles further on at Rox, Nevada,
is found one of the historic points along
the Salt Lake Route, the Pictured
Rocks, plainly visible from the car
windows. These hieroglyphics or pic-
,tured writings of the ancient Indians

represent various signs of the zodiac,
animals, birds, etc. Historians date
these writings at 1540 approximately, as
it is supposed that they are the record
of the Spanish expedition to the Colo-
rado in the above mentioned year.

La Vegas, Nevada, the next important
point, is the center of great mining
activity. From here may be seen the
sixteen-horse teams departing for Bull-
frog, Kawich, Rhyolite and other mining
sections, loaded to the guards with pro-
visions and prospectors' outfits, or re-
turning with a supply of rich ore to be
shipped to the various smelters in this
part of the country.

From Daggett the ascent begins lead-
ing to Cajon Pass, through which the
beautiful San Bernardino Valley is first
seen. Approaching San Bernardino,
clearly demarkated upon the mountain
side is the Arrow Head, nature's land-
mark. Such an unusual natural forma-
tion was bound to attract more than
casual attention from the ancient inhabi-
tant and early Spaniards of this section
of the country, and a world of legendary
lore has been woven around this peculiar
rock formation. For miles the Salt Lake
Route stretches its glistening rails along
the trail blazed by the Mormon pioneers
in plain view of this massive landmark.
What more appropriate symbol,' then,
Could it choose for its own trademark
than the arrow-head, suggestive as it is
of swiftness and directness! Long ago,
in tradition, it led wayfarers across the

THE SALT LAKE ROUTE

deserts and through the mountain passes
— the Mormons from the East, the Red-
men from the West. Today as the hall
mark, so to speak, of a great transconti-
nental line, it lures the twentieth century
traveler to a land of perpetual sunshine
and ever-blooming flowers.

From San Bernardino into Los An-
geles the rich orange grove belt of
southern California is traversed, passing
through Riverside, and across the larg-
est concerted bridge in the world, to
Ontario and Pomona, the scenes of large
orange growing and packing house in-
dustries. The train winds its way be-
tween rows of these beautiful trees, rich
with fruit and blossom, while in the dis-
tance the mountains raise their snow-
capped peaks, making a scene never to
be forgotten.

Port San Pedro is the southern termi-
nus of the San Pedro, Los Angeles and
Salt Lake railroad. Here the in-coming
trains each day make close connection
with the pleasure steamers plying be-
teen the mainland and the magic Isle
of Santa Catalina. San Pedro is the
starting point, consequently passengers
going aboard from the Salt Lake Route
trains have first choice of steamer accom-
modations.

The ride to Catalina Island over this
line takes one through the most verdant
part of southern California, passing the
beautiful sea shore resorts— Long Beach,
Alamitos Beach, Brighton Beach and
Terminal Island. The crossing over to
the island in itself affords much diver-
sion, especially to those new to Cali-
fornia. Spouting whales may be seen

in the distance; schools of black dol-
pqins disport themselves, overleaping
each other, while flying fish invade the
steamer's deck, evoking surprise on all
sides.

Nowhere else is so interesting a study
of the ocean and its denizens to be had
as in the Bay of Avalon, since a flotilla
of glass-bottomed boats has been added
to the attractions. This novel craft has
laid bare to the gaze of thousands of
visitors the beauties and wonders of the
submarine world.

Golf links, tennis courts, music pavil-
ions and bowling are at the command
of visitors, but the atmosphere infects
all with a delicious lassitude soon after
arriving, so that they prefer to loiter
where the fisherfolk mend their nets and
display huge specimens of captured scaly
monsters for the inspection and wonder
of the ever-arriving crowd.

Reverting back, the Salt Lake Route
is a connecting link between the great
railway systems which reach the most
wonderful and attractive sections of
America. At San Pedro it connects
with the Southern Pacific Coast Line,
with its long string of show places; at
Salt Lake in conjunction with the Ore-
gon Short Line it reaches the famous
Yellowstone Park and the beautiful Col-
umbia river; with the Denver & Rio
Grande it threads the gorges and canyons
of the Rockies to Denver; thence with
the Missouri-Pacific to St. Louis; with
the Union Pacific it stretches across the
Nebraska prairies to Omaha, covering
in all a veritable wonderland of scenic
splendor.

OLD MEXICO

THE EGYPT OF AMERICA

The Iron Mountain Route's
Matchless Service in this
LAND OF WONDERS

AS a Winter playground region our sis-
ter republic just across our southern
border is becoming a close rival to our
own two Italics— California and Florida.
In area it equals that of the British Isles
with France thrown in, and fairly brims
over with things that interest and delight
the tourist. For centuries Mexico slum-
bered and dreamed, unmindful of the
great outside world, and the world left
her alone. But the erstwhile "Sleeping
Beauty" is wide awake now and admir-
ing eyes are focused upon her from all
directions. Few countries, indeed, pos-
sess such diversity of charm. Wonder-
ful in material resources, charming in
climate, picturesque beyond description,
rich in tradition, grand in prehistoric
ruins, a veritable Egypt of pyramids and
hieroglyphics, the republic of Mexico
may rightfully claim
recognition as one of
the great show-
places and play-
grounds of the world.
At this season the
average mortal longs
to go a - searching
for sunbeams, and
naturally the fancy
turns to our own
sunny Southland or
wanders on to the
sub-tropical climate
of Old Mexico. If
one has once en-
joyed the luxury of
perpetual sunshine
and ever-blooming
flowers in mid-Win-
ter, the old Spring-
fret .is sure to seize
one each succeeding
year To cater to

this universal desire to "go South"
one great transportation company cen-
tered In St. Louis is giving the best of
service to the various resort places
all along its way. In less than twelve
hours' ride over the Iron Moun-
tain Route from St. Louis, in a basin
of the Ozark mountains, lies one of the

A QUAINT MEXICAN HOME

greatest all-year-round resorts in the
country, Hot Springs, Arkansas.

Conservatively estimated, 1 00,000 visi-
tors find their way to this great Valley
of Vapors each year. It is rot alone the
thermal waters with their wonderful
curative properties that attract this mul-
titude of people, but the world-wide
reputation which this national sanitarium
has attained as a pleasure resort causes
thousands of visitors annually to gather
there from all sections.

OLD MEXICO — THE EGYPT OF AMERICA

This season the Iron Mountain Route
has retained as part of the excellent
equipment of its Hot Springs Special,
through Pullman compartment sleeping
cars. This solid vestibuled train of
Pullman sleeping and free reclining
chair cars leaves Union Station every
night at 8:01 o'clock and arrives at the
Springs the following morning at 8:00
o clock in time for breakfast at one of
the great resort hotels there, than which
there are none finer in any of the large
cities of the country.

Whether the visitor is seeking
health or pleasure, rest or recreation,
pastime, amusement or sport, he will

THE SACRED SHRINE

CHOLULA AND OLD POPOCATEPELL,
CHOLULA, MEXICO

nnd them, all happily combined at
Hot Springs Arkansas, or- in the imme-
diate vicinity.

Fqr those who prefer a longer trip,
there is the 8:20 p. m. train of the Iron
Mountain Route, which pulls out of
Unipn Station daily with through sleep-
ing cars for Houston, Galveston, Dallas,
Fort Worth, San Antonio, Laredo and
the City of Mexico. Along the Gulf
Coast in the vicinity of Galveston there
is the greatest sport in the world for the
ambitious angler, and that is tarpon fish-
ing. He is called the "Silver King" of
the finny tribe, and will furnish more
genuine sport of a strenuous character
than a long string of bass or basket of
speckled trout.

San Antonio is the great cosmopolitan

resort in the health belt of the Southwest
— quaint, historic, picturesque and beau-
tiful. In Old Mex-
ico the tourist
will find himself in
a land so strange
and foreign to this
that he will wonder
why the tide of tra-
vel to Europe every
year does not turn
in this direction.
There is mental
pabulum in Mex-
ico for the student,
historian, archaeol-
ogist and scientist,
as well as health and pleasure for those
who love to live beneath cloudless skies
and dream away the idle hours in a land
of sunshine and flowers. The semi-
weekly "Mexico -St. Louis Special,"
solid vestibuled train, makes the run
from St. Louis to City of Mexico in
sixty hours, leaving St. Louis at 9:00
a. m. Tuesday and Fridays. This
is much the fastest schedule that has
ever gone into effect between these two
cities. It fairly makes one dizzy to con-
sider the rocket-like speed essential to
cover the distance "on time," for, in
the picturesque vernacular of "Scotty,
the Croesus of Death Valley," it is "sure
rambling some." It has been demon-
strated, however, that the fastest trains
are the safest trains.

ROMANTIC VIGA CANAL, CITY Ol* MEXICO

FROM THE LAKES TO THE GULF

ONE of the most important railroad
systems in the United States in point
of scope, equipment, quality and diversity
of territory traversed is the Illinois Cen-
tral. From a modest beginning, half a cen-
tury ago, of 706 miles, it has lengthened
and broadened and branched out until
today its own trackage has increased to
more than four thousand miles, which in
conjunction with its associated line —
the Yazoo and Mississippi Valley —
makes a grand total of six thousand
miles. Centered in Chicago, in immediate
touch with the chain of Great Lakes, the
Illinois Central threads the very heart of
the Mississippi Valley — the Garden Spot
of the World — on through the historic
southland fraught with all the romance
and chivalry of ante-bellum days. It
stretches out to the Missouri river on
the west, to the Gulf of Mexico on the
south, and through its numerous gate-
ways reaches every nook and corner of
the whole country, while its splendid
seaports render it tributary to all the
business marts and playgrounds of the
world. Of the thousands of passengers
who daily enjoy the comfort and luxury of
travel afforded by the Illinois Central,
comparatively few have the slightest
conception of its magnitude or its im-
portance as a factor in the commerce of
the country. This, however, begins to
dawn on one when one learns that as
a source of revenue, this great system
yields an income of over fifty million of
dollars annually. Of this enormous
amount of money a large per cent, goes
into new trackage, new bridges, new
cars, new equipment, new safety appli-
ances—everything, in fact, that goes to-
ward making and maintaining a strictly
first-class and up-to-date railroad. In
addition to this the Illinois Central caters
to the aesthetic side of its patrons by
surrounding its passenger stations with
beautiful gardens and parks, so restful
to the eye and so pleasing to the senses.
Few railroads are fraught with such
potent interest, 'traversing as it does a
region recalling the turbulent times of
the '6o's, and reaching historic Vicks-
burg, whose memorable "seige" was one
of the horrors of the late Civil war. But
Time is kind, and that beautiful spot
overlooking the tranquil Mississippi,
once the scene of carnage and strife, has
been transformed into a national military
park, where, unmindful of North cr
South, the wearers of the blue and the

gray sleep peacefully side by side.
In authorizing this park the congress
of the United States voiced the spirit
and sentiment of a united people when
it declared:

"Not in honor of victory or defeat,
but to commemorate the valor and
heroism of American soldiers on both
sides in the Civil war."

Thence onward to New Orleans, with
its cosmopolitan life and picturesque
carnivals; on to the Gulf of Mexico,
with it brilliant crescent of resort places
and Winter playgrounds, go the splendid
trains of the Illinois Central.

In point of rolling stock the Illinois
Central trains are unexcelled. The New
Orleans Limited, the New Orleans Spe-
cial, the celebrated Green, Gold & Brown
Daylight Special are familiar names to
all who have journeyed the best way
south from Chicago.

The magnificent fast train— the Cuban
Special — leaves Chicago at 3:00 p. m.,
and St. Louis at 7:15, p. m., every Tues-
day for New Orleans, where staunch
steamers take up the journey to Havana
and passengers are conveyed direct to
Cuba over the beautiful waters of the
Gulf of Mexico.

No more delightful Winter playground
can be found the world over than this
bewitching sea girt isle, nestled beneath
the soft azure of tropic skies — an isle
with much to suggest the dreamy languor
of by-gone days, yet throbbing and puls-
ing with new life, new energy, new hope
under the inspiring dominion of good
old Uncle Sam.

Now that Havana has been brought to
our very doors, so to speak, by the in-
auguration of fast train service in con-
nection with fleet-winged steamers at
southern ports, the Cuban capital is be-
coming as familiar as almost any other
American city. Tourists are charmed
with the climate, the balmy, sunshiny
days and peerless nights, and often loiter
and linger many days, taking short jaunts
into the picturesque interior, loath to
leave this palm-fringed island, this Pearl
of the Antilles, which lies like a priceless
gem on the translucent bosom of the
American Riviera.

The excellent service of the Illinois
Central is of special interest just now, as
Mardi Gras, the carnival time of the
South, with its rollicking round of pleas-
ure, is close at hand.

WINTER PLAYGROUNDS OF AMERICA

THE ILLINOIS CENTRAL RAILROAD CO.'S "CUBAN

SPECIAL" —STEAMER FOR HAVANA TO WHICH

PASSENGERS ARE TRANSFERRED DIRECT FROM

TRAIN, AT NEW ORLEANS

HOW TO REACH THE CARNIVAL CITY

From St. Louis, the Mobile & Ohio
railroad operates two daily trains to New
Orleans, one leaving in the morning and
the other in the evening. Both trains
are vestibuled from end to end and carry
Pullman drawing room sleeping cars and
diners of the most modern and sumptu-
ous types.

The Illinois Central and Louisville &
Nashville railroad also operate first-class
through trains between Chicago, St.
Louis and New Orleans. From Minne-
apolis, St. Paul and Chicago, the Wa-
bash railroad makes direct connection

with the Mobile & Ohio for the Mardi
Gras city.

From Boston, New York, Philadel-
phia, Baltimoie, Washington and points
between, also from other points in the
South and Southeast, the Southern rail-
way, in connection with the Pennsylvania
lines, operates double daily service, the
Washington and Southwestern Limited
between Boston and New Orleans being
one of the finest trains in the South or
East. From Cincinnati, the Queen &
Crescent route operates through trains to
New Orleans.

LATE WINTER FASHIONS

LATE winter is apt to be a season that
calls for much renovation and for certain
advance costumes for between-seasons wear.

DKSIQN BY MAT MANTON.
Fancy Waist 5238.
Tuck Shirred Skirt with Flounce 4866.

Year by year the number of lucky folk who
go South to avoid February and March in
this climate increases and consequently the
demand for lighter gowns is felt, while again
there are many stay-at-homes who like to
employ the leisure that comes with Lent for
the making of waists that will be needed dur-
ing the spring and the summer. While it
is yet early to talk about spring styles, those
of real warm weather are being discussed
and it is quite safe to say that many shirr-
ings, many tucks and much soft fullness will
continue to be the rule. What is known as
Gabrielle princesse dresses, or dresses made
with blouse waists and skirts that are joined
by means of shirrings or bands of insertion,
will be much liked for in-door wear, and in
spite of the fact, that princesse models are
gaining steadily in favor for many occasions,
the waist that blouses slightly and becom-
ingly will be the favorite for thin materials.
The charming evening costume illustrated
(5238-4866) is made of ivory white radium
silk with trimming of Venetian lace and

serves to exemplify some very novel features
The waist gives the fashionable bolero effect
while in reality it is made in one and is
closed invisibly at the back, and in addition
to making a most satisfactory model for
evening wear can be converted into the
blouse of daytime use by the addition of
yoke and long sleeves. The skirt is tucked
in groups, the tucks being drawn up slightly
to give a shirred effect and also is shirred
to form the narrow yoke. All soft and crush-
abla materials are appropriate. For the
waist will be required 2^ yards of material
21, i X yards 44 inches wide with 4^ yards
of applique" and i^ yards 18 inches wide for
the yoke and long sleeves ; for the skirt 1 1
yards 21 or 6 yards 44 inches wide. The
waist pattern is cut in sizes from 32 to 40 in-
ches bust measure; the skirt pattern in sizes
from 22 to 30 inches waist measure.

The short and jaunty jacket is unquestion-
ably the favorite for all street costumes of

DESIGN BY MAT MAN-TOW.
Blouse Jacket with Tucked Eton 5232.
Three-Piece Skirt 5233.

the dressier sort and will continue its vogue
for both between-seasons and the spring
The costumes illustrated (5132-5233) show

The May Manlon Patterns illustrated in this article ma}- be obtained for 10 cents each. Address Fashion Department
National Magazine, 944 Dorchester Avenue, Boston, Mass.

LATE WINTER FASHIONS

one of tlic very latest and very best that yet
have appeared, for while it has all the chic
effect of an Eton it combines the little jacket
with a blouse, so meaning real warmth and
comfort. The sleeves, too, are in full length
but tucked to form deep cuffs. The skirt is
one of the best liked and one of the latest,
made with the plain front gore and circular
side and back portions, these last being
trimmed with applied double folds of the
material above which are bands of braid.
For the coat will be required 5^ yards of
material 21 or 2^ yards 44 inches wide. The
coat pattern 5232 is cut
in sizes from 32 to 40
inches bust measure; the
skirt pattern 5233 is cut
in sizes from 22 to 30
inches waist measure.

Pretty blouses are al-
ways in demand, and
such a one as 5195 finds
a place in almost every
wardrobe. It can be
utilized for the separate
waist, that fills so many
needs and is so essential
to comfort, and also for
the simple gown. The
6195 Shirred Blouae two box plaits that meet

Waist, 32 to 40 bust at the centre afford
opportunity for trim-
ming of various sorts, the shirrings at the
shoulders mean softly full fronts and the
plain back is becoming to the generality of
figures. For the medium size will be required
4 ^i yards of material 21,4 yards 27 or 2 )£
yards 44 inches wide.

That the princesse skirt will be a notable
favorite of the coming season is a very
thoroughly established fact. It is already
held in high esteem and has been shown in
so many charming and
becoming variations
that it is quite certain to
gain even extended pop-
ularity as the weeks roll
on. This one (5194) can
be either shirred or
tucked to form the gir-
dle and is adapted to the
soft or chiffon velvets as
well as to the lighter
weight silk and wool
6194 Princesse Skirt, materials and will be
22 to 30 waist. f.ound Particularly eff ec-
tive in the louisine and
liberty silks that already
are being shown in pleasing variety. It can
be worn either with the short Eton and uti-
lized for the street or with any pretty soft
blouse for in-door wear and it also can be
made round or in walking length. For the
medium size will be required 10 yards of ma-
terial 21 or 27 or 5^ yards 44 inches wide
when material has figure or nap ; 9 ^ yards
21,7 yards 27 or 4 yards 44 inches wide
when it has not
Unquestionably the tucked or plaited

6189 Seven Goied

Tucked Walking

Skirt, 22 to 30 waist

walking skirt is a favorite and a well de-
served one. It means graceful, becoming
and thoroughly satisfactory flare at the lower
portion while the lucks
and the plaits are stitch-
ed so flat over the hips
that all objection as to
bulk is dispensed with.
No. 5189 is among the
latest and the best that
have appeared and is
made in seven gores, its
many seams allowing of
perfect and easy fit. It
will be found admirable
for all suiting and skirt-
ing materials, both for
the costume and the sep-
arate skirt. For the
medium size will be re-
quired 8 ^ yards of material 27, 5 yards 44
or 4 y2 yards 52 inches wide if material has
figure or nap ; 6l/2 yards 27, 3 % yards 44 or
3 yards 52 inches wide if it has not.
Simple waists that at the same time are
pretty, tasteful and
becoming are always in
demand. No. 5236 is
charming for the 'thin
silks and the light
weight wools that
are made in lingerie
style and also is
most satisfactory for
lawns, batistes and all
similar materials. The
tucks are laid in a quite
novel manner and are so
arranged as to give the
best effect to the
figure.

For the midium size
6236 Tucked Blouse will be required 4%
Waist, 32 to 42 bust. yards of material

2I> 3% yards 27
or 2 % yards 44 inches wide.

While it is difficult to make the average boy
realize that warm gar-
ments are essential to
his health, even the
most reckless is quite
sure to welcome such
a comfortable bath
robe as 5211. He can
slip it on as he steps
out of bed and prepares
for the bath, and he
can also use it for a
dressing gown while
studying in his room
and will often find it a
genuine addition to his
well being. For the
medium size (10
years ) will be re-
quired 4 }/?, yards of
material 27, 2 7-8 yards
44 or 2 5-8 yards 50
inches wide.

621 1 Boy's Bath Robe,
6 to 14yrs.

The May Manton Patterns illustrated in this article may be obtained for 10 cents each. Address, Fashion Department,
National Magazine, 944 Dorchester Avenue, Boston, Mass.

MUCH has been written in the tech-
nical and railway journals about the
stupendous engineering project which
involves the electrification of the ter-
minal lines of the New York Central
railway in New York, which is now
under way and which, together with the
new terminal station, is to cost $60,-
000,000.

The general public, however, has little
conception of the colossal character of
this project or the magnitude of the con-
structive work which will revolutionize
the work of handling passengers in the
great metropolis. From the running of
comparatively light street-cars at moder-
ate speeds of from ten to fifteen miles
an hour to the handling of heavy express
trains weighing from 300 to 900 tons at
speeds of from forty to sixty miles an
hour is a far cry, but this is what will
be accomplished by the electrification
plans of the New York Central. The
change which is being made will include
some thirty-four miles of the main line
to Croton on the Hudson; twenty-four
miles of two-track road known as the
Harlem division, extending from the
terminus to White Plains and the whole
of the great station and terminal yard,
which is now in course of construction at
the site of the present Grand Centra]
Station.

And it must be borne in mind that this
stupendous work is only one of the many
improvements inaugurated by the great
Vanderbilt lines within the last year or

two. And these big projects naturally
call public attention to many big rail-
way men who have not been in the
lime-light. Prominent among them is
William C. Brown, who is the operating
genius at the head of the Vanderbilt
lines, and whose official title is "Vice-
President of the New York Cential
Lines." William C. Brown belongs to
the class of "railway men" who organ-
ize, create, construct — the kind that
have been developed by our wonderful
era of transportation.

Other great improvements which at-
tract attention to his interesting person-
ality are the construction of third and
fourth tracks on the main line of the
Lake Shore, practically doubling the
capacity of that great artery of traffic,
and the great distributing yards at
DeWitt, near Syracuse, on the New
York Central, and at Elkhart and Collin.
wood (near Cleveland on the Lake
Shore,) having a capacity for the hand-
ling of cars greater than any other rail-
road yards in the world. These are
examples of the tremendous strides these
properties have made under Mr. Brown's
management.

It was the great tunnel accident in
New York City that called Mr. Brown
from the Lake Shore, and since his
coming the stupendous plan for terminal
improvements at that point have been
undertaken nnd are now being developed
to such a scale as to attract the attention
of engineers the world over. It was

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

MR. WILLIAM C. BROWN, VICE-PRESIDENT OF THE NEW YORK
CENTRAL LINES

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

only a short time before that the Lake
Shore took him from the Burlington.

Mr. Brown's career began away back
in Iowa, where as a boy he piled up
cordwood for the locomotives in the
Winter and learned telegraphy at night.
He soon became a telegraph operator,
was next appointed train despatcher,
afterward superintendent of a division
of the Burlington, and finally general
manager of the entire Burlington system.
When the Northern Securities merger
was made, Brown went to the Lake
Shore as vice-president of that road.
He was afterward appointed vice-presi-
dent of the New York Central lines with
headquarters in Chicago. Mr. Brown
combines with his wide experience and
knowledge of every phase of railroading
an extraordinary talent for tactfully and
successfully handling men, for conciliat-
ing antagonisms ?nd reconciling hostile
interests. T. A. D.

IT was an event — the launching of the
billboard at the National office. The
idea was no sooner conceived than it
was executed, for ideas sometimes come
swiftly to the National Magazine. The
billboard would be the proper thing to
face the throngs passing by the plant on
Dorchester avenue, and the board was
prepared— eight feet by five feet, covered
with big letters telling of the contents
under the covers of the National's cur-
rent number. Attention was at once
attracted. People came across the street
to scan the lines, despite the waning
light of the late afternoon. Down, up,
from all quarters they came, to read the
manifesto of the National and learn of
"Affairs at Washington" and other thrill-
ing bits of news, such as "The American
Spirit," "Beauties of the American
Stage," "A University that Means Busi-
ness," and attractive stories and other
features in prose and verse.

The passing street-cars, as they stop
opposite th'e National plant, put off
passengers who are coming to visit the
home of their favorite magazine, where
they are greeted by this benign bulletin

board wnich says "10 cents" very
plainly — and one visitor was looking
for a box-office, to pay admission.

Speaking of this billboard, the Na-
tional for the next twelve months will
be better than ever before. Those
who are acquainted with the mag-
azine confidently expect this, be-
cause every year of its existence thus
far has seen constant growth.

QNE of the marked distinctions be-
tween Washington and European
capitals is the relati.e position of news-
paper men. In London, and even in
Berlin, the profession ranks lower than
in America. It is assumed in Germany
that those who fail in other walks of life
— such as the army — will gravitate into
newspaper work. The same is said to
be true of England, but in a less degree.

The newspaper men of America today
are becoming more and more a public
power, not merely as chroniclers of
events, but by swaying public opinion
with regard to men and measures. No-
where else is the journalist or newspaper
man accorded more freedom to give full
play to his powers of observation and
initiative. Nor is this confidence often
misplaced. The journalist must see be-
hind the scenes and yet not become a
cynic. It will be well for him to recall
the words of Hooker,

'"These taints and blemishes in human
nature will remain until the end ot the
world, what form of government soever
takes place."

Despite the exposure epidemic which
has swept over the country, the journal-
ists as a rule remain firm in an optimistic
belief in the progress and uplift of the
times. In this respect Uncle Joe Can-
non has come to the front in one of his
genial and jovial talks which have placed
him far outside the ranks of pessimistic
"knockers," who in their eageraess to
play with the fortissimo stop are blind
to *he fact that the world is growing bet-
ter and brighter.

M. FALLIERES, VINTNER, LAWYER AND
THE FRENCH REPUBLIC

PRESIDENT OF

Clement Armand Fallieres, the new president of the French Republic, was president of the
French senate when chosen to the higher post. His closest rival was M. Doumer, president
of the house of deputies. President Fallieres was the candidate of the modern, radical attd
socialist elements of the national assembly. Like Mr. Loubet, whom he succeeds, M.
Fallieres is a man of the people ; his grandfather was a blacksmith, his father a magistrate's
clerk. M. Fallieres is an orator and a shrewd judge of men and events. His forty years of
public service has not weakened his love for his home farm, and his vines are first among
his individual interests.

Photograph from Underwood

Underwood, New York

PORTRAITS OF THE SCANDINAVIAN KINGS

The half-year closing with January, 1906, brought many governmental changes to the Scandinavian
peoples of Europe. Norway broke the bonds that united her to Sweden and set up business on her
own account, with King Haakon VII on the throne. King Oscar of Sweden and his cabinet protested,
but wisely determined not to make war. On January 29, 1906, King Christian of Denmark, the venerable
ruler known as "the father-in-law of Europe," was gathered to his fathers, and on the following day
his eldest son ascended the throne as King Frederick VIII. Of all the "little kingdoms" of the
earth, none is more highly regarded by free men everywhere than these three.

Photographs loaned by the Boston Herald

NATIONAL MAGAZINE

VOLUME XXIII

MARCH, 1906

NUMBER SIX

Anairo at Washington

Dy Joe Mitchell Cncipple

IN my visits to Washington the various
readers are kept in mind, almost every-
where I go, and it was the boys who were
uppermost in my thoughts as I sat in
conversation with Colonel W. F. Cody,
in the New Willard hotel. He was in a
talkative mood that night and told
many a stirring reminiscence of his
fights with the Indians. Now, if anything
awakens the inter-
est of a boy, it is
Indian fighting —
in fact, I have not
yet outgrown the
taste myself. The
colonel threw back
his long locks
and began :

"When I went
scouting in a dan-
gerous country,
where there were
Indians about, I
always assumed I
was in a tight box.
I tried to put my-
self in the place of
Mr. Indian. I fig-
ured on what I
should do if I were
in his place. Then
I would make plans
to outwit them.
Good plainsmen,

BISHOP SATTERLEE, WHO OFFICIATED
AT THE WEDDING OF NICHOLAS LONG-
WORTH AND ALICE LEE ROOSEVELT

like good statesmen, have to look on
every side of the bush.

"How well I remember back in 1868
when I was a scout for General Hazen
and was ordered to have a conference
with some Comanche chieftains. There
was rather a wicked spot on the road,
known as Willow Springs, which had
been the scene of several massacres, and
I felt my flesh
creep as we ap-
proached this spot.
I had the feeling
that before the
wagon containing
the general pro-
ceeded I ought to
get out and see
what was ahead.
As I was searching
around, suddenly a
signal came to me
from the wagon and
General Hazen
asked me very
sharply,

"What are you
doing, sir, holding
us back?"

I replied with a
salute that I was
looking around for
traces of Indians.
"We are losing

56S

THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE for FEBRUARY, 1906

INDIANS SEEING WASHINGTON IN THE WHITE MAN'S WAGON

Photograph by Clinedinst

too much time in this foolishness," he
replied in disgust; "there are no Indians
in this part of the country, and have
not been for a long time."

"Well, it turned out all right and we
proceeded without farther delay. Sure
enough there were no Indians, but on
the return trip it was on this same spot
that a young Irish scout, named Mc-
Ginn, who recalled the roasting that I
got for delaying the wagons at Willow
Springs, proceeded without the usual
precautions. The poor fellow fell,
pierced with a score of bullets, and if it
had not been for the negro cavalry Gen-
eral Hazen and his entire staff would
have been massacred at that time."

All that the colonel had to relate of his
Wild West show experiences before the
crowned heads of Europe had not the
keen interest of his 'Indian stories and
I tried to inveigle him into telling
more of these tales, but he was anxious
to get on to his ranch in the West; from
there he intends to return again to Eu-
rope, where the Wild West still enter-
tains the effete monarchies of the old

world. The colonel is one of my real old
friends, for it was on the shores of Lake
Superior many years ago that he permit-
ted me to assist in arranging a peace
jubilee between the Sioux and the Chip-
pewa chiefs. This was the first time
that the chiefs of these tribes had met in
peace in a half century, and the idea was
to effect a lasting peace with the historic
"pipe." It was Buffalo Bill who man-
aged the ceremonies and he did it with
that keen appreciation of the Indian
temperament which he acquired as a
scout on the plains.

It was a very impressive gathering and
never can I forget the picture made by
the artistically attired and classic-
featured chiefs gathered about Colonel
Cody as the setting sun cast its rays
through the pine trees on the shores of
that great Northern lake.

The colonel recalled an amusing in-
cident of the occasion, when one or two
of the chieftains brought him to account
for the poor quality of the tobacco used
in the pipes of peace. Verily the ad-
vance of civilization was indeed come

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

569

upon the tribes, between whom a deadly
feud existed for so many years, but who
now thought of the quality of tobacco of
this age — not up to the standard of
ancient days. The ceremony took place

been exterminated in the struggle.
Jl.

(")NE of the most brilliant social func-
tions of the season in Washington

THE AUSTRIAN AMBASSADOR AND HIS WIFE

Snapshot by Clinedinst

near the site of fierce battles, those hand-
to-hand conflicts where they fought until
almost every brave on both sides had

was the president's dinner to the diplo-
matic corps, at which all the nations
who have representatives in Washington

570

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

VISCOUNT AOKI, JAPAN'S NEW REPRE-
SENTATIVE AND FIRST AMBASSADOR

TO THE UNITED STATES
Copyright 1906 By National Press Association

SENOR DON EPIFIANO PORTELA, THE
NEW MINISTER FROM THE ARGEN-
TINE REPUBLIC
Copyright 1906 by Clinedinst

were present in the person of their am-
bassadors or ministers. There was Baron
Hengenmuller von Hengervar of the
Austrian embassy, now the dean of the
corps, who escorted Mrs. Roosevelt to the
dining-room, while the baroness took the
arm of President Roosevelt. The form-
ality of this occasion is not equalled at
the regular state dinners. The decora-
tions were very elaborate, and the great
dining-room at the White House pre-
sented,under the soft glow of the electric
light, a suggestion of a scene in some
old baronial hall. It was in every way
a full dress affair, and the great display
of medals and glistening decorations sug-
gesting a gay scene in a play, where
the silken-gowned ladies and velvet-coat-
ed and be-laced gentlemen figure. Amid
all the glitter of gold lace there was a
certain satisfaction to the American eye
in seeing our own president in plain black
evening dress, the most impressive, the
central figure of all such occasions. If

there ever was a good entertainer at din-
ner it is President Roosevelt. He can
point with pride to the trophies on the
walls and tell of his various hunts, or he
can discuss the latest poem or treatise on
psychology. In old-fashioned Scotch
phraseology, "he is a non o' pairts."

A REVIVAL of section four of the
Dingley tariff law, authorizing the
president to negotiate reciprocity treaties,
has been rather kept under cover, but a
joint resolution providing for such action
may set in motion the smouldering fire
of tariff revision.

March first the new German tariff
law goes into effect, and it is appre-
hended that when the shoe really begins
to pinch, a movement will be started
that will arouse attention. While some
have regarded the German tariff war as
more or less of a bugaboo, it is apparent
that Secretary Root has his finger on the

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

SENATOR THOMAS COLLIER PLATT OF NEW YORK

The best recent likeness of the senior senator from the Empire State, who,
despite his frail physical condition, is actively engaged in the effort to dislodge
B. B. Odell, the chairman of the New York republican state committee. Mr.
Platt is probably serving his last term in the senate, where, mainly by his efforts,
in the interest of the express companies, the United States postoffice department
has been prevented from giving the public a parcels-post service, as is done in
most other countries. In his generation he has had no superior as a master of
practical politics. In business — he is the head of one of the great express com-
panies — he has gained a large fortune. His are iron hands in velvet gloves.

572

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

CHILDREN OF FRIEHERR VON DEM BUSSCHE-HADDENHAUSEN, FIRST SECRETARY OF

THE GERMAN EMBASSY AT WASHINGTON, IN GERMAN PEASANT COSTUMES

WORN AT A FANCY BALL GIVEN FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS OF THE CAPITAL CITY

Photographs by Clinedinst

tariff throttle and may become the cen-
tral figure in a revision movement —
under section four. The classic phrase
at the White House, "speak softly and
carry a big stick," may express the
method in which this difficulty will be
met, for it is certain that section four
may become one of the most useful sec-
tions of the Dingley act before the threat-
ened retaliatory tariff clouds pass away.

EVERY time I go about the depart-
ments in Washington, it seems that
I ought to be able to find something
which would be a suitable tribute to
the hundreds and thousands of clerks
who have passed through the govern-
mental mill and have virtually given a
life service to their country. While it
is true that as a rule salaries are ade-

quate, yet if one were to enlist such
latent ability as may be found among
this great army of clerks in Washington
— if this ability were awakened and
aroused by individual initiative, it would
call for a salary list many times
greater than is paid to government
clerks.

This phase of life is one thing which
is, to my mind, a strong argument
against the dead level of socialism,
as I understand that proposition. Here
we have a body of men controlled
and regulated by a power which they are
willing to obey, yet in most instances the
life of routine which they live seems to
have the effect of stifling all progressive
ambition. When they have been a little
while in this service, they become prac-
tically unfit for anything else, however
well suited they may be for their present

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

work. One is reminded of the old rhyme
of the "Bight of Benin, where not one
come out though a hundred go in."
The individual is swallowed up in the
machinery, which appears to be the
Ultima Thule of socialist ambition,
though we less enlightened mortals can-
not but hope that it is not the final fate
of the human'race.

There are 676 clerks in the employ of
the government who have reached the
age of three score years and ten. Most
of them are in the department of the
interior, where 177 people past seventy
years of age are at work day after day.
In the treasury department 147 tried and
trusted clerks have passed man's allotted
span, — a fact brought out in a most
dramatic way by a special message sent
to the house of representatives last
September, giving details concerning this

patriarchal regiment of 676 people em-
ployed in the various departments. It
is significant that only one of the 676 is
on the civil service commission, and that
commission is the body which has power
to retain the service of clerks and pre-
vent removal except for a good cause.
There are seventy-six printers in the
government printing office who have
handled stick and rule for over half a
century and have passed the seventieth
year-stone in life. Forty-three of the
veterans of three score and ten are in
the agricultural department. In the war
department there are sixty-eight gray-
beards still at work, although they have
long since passed the age at which offi-
cers are retired. One wonders whether,
like Charles Lamb, they have worked
"until the wood of the desk has entered
into their souls." The simple presenta-

WILLIAM B. RIDGELY, COMPTROLLER OF THE UNITED STATES TREASURY, AND MISS

KATHERINE DEERING, WHOSE ENGAGEMENT IS ANNOUNCED

Photographs Copyright 1005 'by Clinedinst

574

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

REPRESENTATIVE JOHN DALZELL OF

PENNSYLVANIA, CHAMPION OF HIGH

TARIFFS AND A STRONG DEBATER

Photograph by Parkes, Washington

tion of these facts, with comment, to the
house of representatives should produce
prompt and effective action toward giving
a faithful, loyal and efficient clerk some-
thing to look forward to beside a helpless
and salaryless old age, and it may be
that action taken in this matter would
be the first movement onward to the
dream that has floated through many a
mind of late years — a pension for all
helpless aged people, who have faithfully
performed their share of the world's work
while they had the strength to do it.

IN the opening days of the present ses-
sion I could conceive of no more im-
portant point of observation than in the
various committee rooms. After I saw
the flag go up on the house side, I made
my way to the capitol and wandered into
the room of the committee on ways and
means. This is the most important com-
mittee of the house of representatives,

and has had a long and historic career,
for the question of ways and means has
always been a fundamental one with
Uncle Sam.

The present committee room is not
luxurious, yet a large mirror over the
mantel, a smouldering fire, decorations
indicative of the overflowing cornucopia
of plenty, and the large chandelier — with
its globe enclosing a cluster of lights
and twelve smaller globes, each having
a single flame inside — make it a room of
somewhat imposing aspect. Under the
glow of this mass of lamps, when there
is a generous supply of grist to the
hopper, it is often necessary, before
the session closes, to hold extra sessions.
During the days of formulating the
Dingley bill each member had a drop
light. The room adjoining was once
occupied by a subcommittee. It was
here that McKinley and his associates
worked upon the ill-fated McKinley bill,
but this apartment is now headquarters
for the press, and the door communicat-
ing with the next room has been closed.
Leading out, on the opposite side, is
a small room formerly occupied by the
sergeant-at-arms, but now used as the
inner sanctum of the committee, and
here all ways and means of raising money
for Uncle Sam must be met.

The ways and means committee room
contains a long table around which
gather the seventeen members. At the
head of the table is the portly form of
Sereno E. Payne, chairman, wearing a
pink McKinley carnation. Next in rank
in the committee is John Dalzell, adorned
with a similar flower. Charles H. Gros-
venor, the veteran from Ohio, ranks
third in line and Congressman J. T.
McCleary, author of the new retaliatory
tariff measure, comes fourth. This room
is the storm center of the tariff discus-
sion. Mr. W. W. Evans, who is secre-
tary of the committee, is the son of
a congressman who served several years
on this same committee and he has been
clerk during the crystallization of the

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

575

three great tariff bills of later years.
Around the large table are the name
plates of all the members, and every
man passes to his allotted seat just
as we used to do in school. The
committee as it now stands is un-
usually strong and capable.

As I entered the room there was
William Alden Smith of Michigan, with
a pile of books on the table before
him; in fact, at nearly every place
around the table documents were col-
lected. Congressman McCall of Massa-
chusetts was on hand, ready to promul-
gate the Massachusetts idea of free hides,
which engaged the attention of the Bay
State delegation during the opening days
of the session. This measure is to pro-
vide for reducing the tariff on shoes to
an amount equal to the present duty on
hides. What is desired appears to be
free hides and a reduced tariff on shoes,
because the manufacturers feel they could
furnish footwear for the world with a
reduced duty, provided they had a cor-
responding reduction on hides. It was
upon this question that the democratic
members in the house recently began to
bait republican speakers in the hope of
accumulating campaign material. It is
quite the custom now to interfere with
a speaker and draw him out during his
flow of oratory, and if something is said
which may go into the record for cam-
paign material, there is rejoicing on the
opposition benches.

Congressman Gillette of Massachu-
setts found that the baiters were ready
for him, and even the genial "Cully"
Adams, of Wisconsin, was provoked into
uttering what appeared to be a criticism
of the president for sending Secretary
Taft into Ohio during the last cam-
paign to fight corruption in the republi-
can party. One day during the closing
session Congressman J. W. Weeks of
Boston, in whom Bay State people always
feel a special interest, arose and obtained
recognition; he merely asked in a con-
siderate and modest way for "leave to

REPRESENTATIVE JOHN A. T HULL OF

IOWA, AN AUTHORITY ON MILITARY

AFFAIRS AND COLONIAL EXPLOITION

Photograph by Webster, Des Moines

print" some of his views upon the ques-
tion of the hour, — a movement which
certainly met with the hearty approval
of his supporters at home. Few new
congressmen have a firmer grasp of the
duties and work before them than our
own representative, John W. Weeks. Of
course I have always thought he be-
longed in the naval department, and
there is where he will eventually go when
his ability, training and fitness are
adequately appreciated.

Congresssman Weeks did a little
baiting on his own account, and brought
out the opinions of his colleague, Mr.
Sullivan of Boston, on matters which
it is hoped will crystallize into good
campaign material. It is quite the
custom of the party leaders to have
certain members detailed to watch
the speeches made on the opposite
side and interrupt or draw out the
speakers, leading them to make state-
ments which might never be made if
they adhered to written manuscript.

576

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

SENATOR DOLLIVER OF IOWA, WHOSE
SEAT GOVERNOR CUMMINS, TARIFF-
REVISER, WOULD LIKE TO ACQUIRE

BY CONQUEST
Photograph by Bell, Washington

REPRESENTATIVE FRANK W. MONDELL
OF WYOMING, ACTIVE IN THE
VASTLY BENEFICENT WORK OF

GOVERNMENT IRRIGATION
Photograph by Parker, Washington

IT was in one of the congressional com-
mittee rooms that I heard a new
story of McKinley's work during his
first campaign for the presidency. It
seems that, -as the years advance, every
anecdote of the noble man who has
passed away is fraught with new
interest.

Stories are told of how carefully every
speech which was made during the presi-
dential campaign was edited by the man
at Canton, and not only his own
speeches but those of people who came
to greet him.

It was customary for the speakers on
behalf of the various delegations to call
upon McKinley and have a conference
before the formal ceremonies commenced,
and they would bring with them in writ-
ing what they intended to say in public.

Very few alterations were made in these
speeches submitted for criticism, but in
the closing days of the campaign there
was a certain delegate who brought his
speech to the candidate to read. Mr.
McKinley put on his glasses and went
carefully over the matter as was his wont
with all papers which came to his hands
for inspection. He read to the bottom
of the first page and pronounced it
"fine," and the second, "excellent."
The third page was equally good, but
Mr. McKinley remarked:

"Here are two sentences at the very
end which it might be well to omit."

"Why?" said the writer in astonish-
ment, "That is a perfectly true state-
ment."

"Yes, it may be true, but this is not
the time or place to say it. You want

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

577

this writing to help the cause of the
party?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I think we had better leave
out these last three lines."

REPRESENTATIVE JESSE OVERSTREET OF
INDIANA, WHO HAS VIEWS OF HIS
OWN, AND HESITATES NOT TO

AVOW THEM
Photograph, by O. V. Buck, Washington

This little incident calls to mind the
patient way in which Lincoln besought
his followers to use only "cool, conserva-
tive and kindly words." The doubtful
sentences were hastily scored out with
a lead pencil. But McKinley said:

"Now, let us make it quite sure," and
he took a pen and drew a heavy ink line
through the portions to be omitted.
"This speech might be handed out to
the newspapers," he said, "and we
must be careful to say nothing that
might arouse passion or indicate anger
or bitterness, for the very people to
whom those lines refer may soon be

with us." He added, "If we must tell
a disagreeable truth, let us do it kindly."

I could not help but notice as the con-
gressman was relating this story the pro-
found interest displayed by everyone of
the twenty listeners, and it was such
little incidents as this that made that
campaign memorable and surpassing in
interest anything we have known in
recent years.

This story started others concerning
McKinley; Senator Dick, who hap-
pened in, related an incident of how
a little boy, who had called to see the

REPRESENTATIVE ROBERT G. COUSINS OF

IOWA, ONE OF THE "GOLDEN-

TONGUED" ORATORS, AND A KEEN

DEBATER, TOO

late president, made a very candid ob-
servation. Mr. McKinley patted the
child on the head and said:

"How are you, my little man, and
how do you like my room?"

The child looked up with clear blue

578

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

REPRESENTATIVE RICHARD BARTHOLDT
OF MISSOURI, NOW SERVING HIS
SEVENTH TERM ; AN ADVOCATE OF
INTERNATIONAL PEACE AND IN-
TERNATIONALLY KNOWN

eyes at the kind face above him, saying,
"Mithter Matinley, I like you, but I
think you ought to clean thith room,"
and he fixed his eye on the ceiling, black-
ened by the flaring gas-jet which had
been burning like a beacon light almost

SENATOR WETMORE OF RHODE ISLAND
Snapshot by Clinedinst

continuously during those busy days.

Mr. McKinley laughed and turning to
those present, said:

"Gentlemen, it sometimes takes a little
child to point out defects which we
grownups have overlooked. "My little
man," he added, "this room shall be
cleaned. You have taught us a lesson."

Then the child took the president's
hand and looking up confidingly, said:

"Mithter Matinley, we'd like you to
be prethident of the whole world."

How little it was dreamed at that time

REPRESENTATIVE DAVID DE ARMOND OF
MISSOURI, A DEMOCRATIC PARLI-
MENTARIAN OF UNCOMMON ABILITY

AND A RISING MAN
Snapshot by Clinedinst

that in a few years 'these words would
sound almost like a prophecy, and that
President McKinley would be president
of a domain reaching far into the Orient!

I ENTERED a committee room which
is always of profound interest to mem-
bers of congress, the mileage room It
is here that members come to make a
report at the beginning of every session
as to the railroads on which they have

SENATOR MARTIN OF VIRGINIA, RE-
CENTLY REELECTED — TO THE
ONLY POLITICAL OFFICE, BY THE
WAY, THAT HE HAS EVER HELD
Snapshot by Clinedinst

traveled, and what distances they have
gone; it is jocosely suggested that it
will soon be necessary to give a schedule
of the eating-houses that occur on the
itinerary. Now that the railroad rate
bill is the disturbing topic of the ses-
sion and free transportation is no longer
obtainable, this room is likely to partake
of the nature of a railroad ticket-broker-
age office, and we may expect some day
to see coupon tickets sold here by enter-
prising representatives of the various
roads.

Over the door of a room on the terrace
I found the label, Minority Room, and

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

SENATOR BURKETT OF NEBRASKA, A

YOUNG MAN OF GREAT PROMISE IN

NATIONAL POLITICS

it is here that John Sharp Williams of
Mississippi, chairman of the democratic
house caucus and floor leader of his party,
discusses party business with his com-
rades. The provision of a room for the
minority is something of an innovation,
but shows how partisanship is waning.

QRATORS, the poets of the platform,
are less to the fore nowadays than
in earlier years of the republic. Now
and then one of the gifted class makes
himself famous with a single speech, as
Mr. Bryan, the young Nebraska news-
paper reporter, did in the Chicago con-
vention of 1896. Others, as Senator
Dolliver of Iowa and Representative
Cousins of the same state, acquire ora-
torical rank by the cumulative effects of
many beautiful addresses. Perhaps no
other member of the federal house of
representatives has a richer gift of classic

and persuasive speech than Mr. Cousins.
He has not yet shown what heights he
might rise to on the wings of a great
moral passion such as presumably ani-
mated Mr. Bryan when the latter made
his " cross-of-gold " speech, but has
rather employed his masterful gifts for
decorative purposes. Thus, his apos-
trophe to Iowa, his native state:

"Marked out in the beginning by the
hand of God, bounded on the east and
west by the two great rivers of the conti-
nent, purified and stimulated by the
snows of Winter, blessed with copious
rainfall in the growing season, with gen-
erous soil and stately forests interspersed,
no wonder that the dusky aborigines ex-
claimed when they crossed the Father of
Wraters, "Iowa, Iowa," — beautiful land,
beautiful land! Not only did the red man
give our state its beautiful and poetic
name, but Indian nomenclature runs
like a romance throughout the counties
and communities. What infinite mean-
ing, what tokens of joy and sadness, of
triumph and of tears, of valor and of
vanquishment, of life and love and song
there may be in these weird, strange
words that name today so many of our
towns and streams and counties: Alla-
makee, Chickasaw, Dakota City, Sioux,
Pocahontas, Winneshiek, Keosauqua,
Sac, Winnebago, Tama, Nodawa, Com-
petine, Chariton, Commanche, Cherokee,
VVaukon, Muchakinock, Washta, Mon-
ona, Waupeton, Onawa, Keota, Wadina,
loka, Ottumwa, Oneska, Waukee, Wrau-
coma, Nishnabotna, Keokuk, Decorah,
Wapello, Muscatine, Maquoketa, Ma-
haska, Ocheyan, Mississippi, Appa-
noose, Missouri, Quasqueton, Anarrosa,
Poweshiek, Pottawattamie, Osceola,
Oskaloosa, Wapsi pin icon.

"Ere long some westland genius,
moved by the mystic inspiration of the
rich and w^ondrous heritage of Iowa
nativity, may sing the song of our
legends and traditions, may voice in
verse the wondrous story of his illus-
trious state. Maybe somewhere among
the humble homes where blood and bone
and brain grow pure and strong, where
simple food with frugal ways feed won-
dering minds and drive them craving
into nature's secrets and her songs —
somewhere along the settler's pathway
or by the Indian trail where now the
country churchyards grown with uncut
grasses hide the forms of sturdy ances-

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

581

tors sleeping all in peaceful ignorance
of wayward sons or wondrous progeny—
somewhere where the rising sun beholds
the peasantry- at early toil and leaves
them in the mystic twilight ere their
tasks are done, where odors of the corn
and new-mown hay and vine-clad hedges
by the shadowy roadside linger long into
the night-time as a sweet and sacred
balm for tired hearts— somewhere, some-
time the song of Iowa shall rise and live,
and it will not omit the thought of that
gifted son who said: 'Iowa, the affec-
tions of her people, like the rivers of her
borders, flow to an inseparable union.' '

The dangerous verbal temptations of

SENATOR JAMES B. MCCREARY OF KEN-
TUCKY, AN EX-CONFEDERATE OFFI-
CER AND FORMER GOVERNOR OF

THE BLUEGRASS STATE
Photograph by Prince, Washington

the poet are exemplified in the reference,
in this glowing passage, to the "peas-
antry"— by which we suppose "Bob"
means the Iowa farmers, — sturdiest, most

MRS. C. W. FULTON, THE CHARMING

WIFE OF THE SENATOR FROM OREGON

Photograph copyright by Clinedinst

up - standing, forehanded, prosperous
agriculturists the sun ever shone on.
A mere flower of speech, gentlemen,
bearing no conscious derogation of those
to whom it was applied.

THESE are busy times in the executive
office. The Panama canal investiga-
tion kept things stirring for a few days,.
but congress found the president with
his ear close to the trumpet at the other
end of the wire.

The influx of New York statesmen
had an import meaning more than
merely the control of a state organ-
ization. The open and fearless
stand taken by the president was
adopted in the face of a perilous
precedent. For the chief executive to
interfere in state politics hitherto
has simply presaged an avalanche
of rebuking ballots at the polls.

S82

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

THE PETITION THAT SAVED THE OLD FRIGATE CONSTITUTION

Secretary Bonaparte's recent suggestion that the old
frigate Constitution be taken from its moorings in
Charlestown (Boston) navy yard, to sea, there to be
used as a target for the newer ships, aroused a mighty
wave of protest from every corner of the land. The
secretary thought merely of the expense of the endless
repairs needed to keep the old ship afloat: the people
thought of several other things — of how the Constitu-
tion won everlasting fame for herself and the American
navy in many battles, conspicuously that with the
Guerriere (a story that American boys will read with
patriotic emotion as long as there are any boys here to
read it); and the way the powers-that-be swung into
line with public sentiment proved they had merely for-
gotten for a minute their share of our common pride
in the Constitution.

The president was prompt to declare his conviction
that she should be preserved, and suggested that she
be taken from Charlestown to the naval academy at
Annapolis, where she would be, as she has long
been at Charlestown, the shrine to which thousands
of Americans would make patriotic pilgrimages,
and would, in the bargain, serve to remind our
navel cadets that there were good men in those days,
the same as now.

Thirty thousand citizens of Massachusetts signed
the petition shown in the above picture, among the
signers being some descendants of the men that fought
on the old ship in the days of her glory, as well as such
notables as former Governors Long, Brackett, Bates
and Douglas, and Governor Guild. Julia Ward

Howe's name is there, with that of many another dis-
tinguished author.

The petition measures 170 feet in length, the names
being signed nine and ten abreast. On a drum-head,
illuminated, parchment heading appears the battle in
gold and full color between the Constitution and the
Guerriere. Below this is traced a short history of the
principal engagements in which the Constitution took
part. The drum-head is fastened to two mahogany
rollers which can be rolled into the copper cylinder.
Below the drum-head appears the petition to the senate
and house of representatives of the United States.
Attached to this are the 30,000 signatures. The
whole thing is placed in a cedar sea-chest with brass
trimmings.

At ten o'clock, January 20, the petition was taken to
the White House and shown to President Roosevelt,
Admiral Dewey and a number of senators and repre-
sentatives who were also present. Eric Pape of Bos-
ton, the originator of the Constitution petition and
the artist who designed it, was introduced to the presi-
dent, explaining to him the manner in which it was
started and carried to completion. Congressman
Me Call of Massachusetts presented Mr. Pape.
The president was fired with enthusiasm and
considered the petition a memorial of great artistic
beauty. He suggested to those present that the
whole ship be restored to her original condition,
replacing the rigging and the sails. He also
suggested that the petition be placed on permanent
exhibition in the navy department at Washington.

AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON

583

A CLOSER VIEW OF THE CONSTITUTION PETITION

From a Photograph by the National Press Association

THE BEGGAR AT OUR DOOR

By Frank Putnam

EAST MILTON, MASSACHUSETTS

'' Freedom of trade with a master is not a freedom that can satisfy the
human heart. Tariffs higher or Icnver mock our profoiindest aspira-
tion. We 'Mant freedom — your freedom or our own. We are neither
citizens nor slaves, but alien — and hopelessly alien, dependents. We
are the beggar at your door, and you deny ^ts." — Extract from the
letter of a Philippine patriot.

WE are too courteous to be rude
To states whose fleets compare with ours ;
We guard with fond solicitude

The lawless South American powers;
We annually sound the praise

Of Patriot Fathers gone before, —
Why turn we with disdainful gaze

From this poor Beggar at our door?

Is it because he has no ships

To thunder at our ocean gates?
Is it for this we seal his lips

That plead for justice from the States?
Are we so sodden in our pride

Of gain in gross, material things
That we his plea can override

With the defiant port of kings?

We whipped the thief who held him thrall;

With gold we salved the robber's pride.
We said we came at Freedom's call —

I do not-think we knew we lied;
But, fired with sudden lust of greed,

•We siezed his houses and his lands:
Unshamed by his poor naked need,

We bound new shackles on his hands.

Freedom, thou hast no shrine on earth

Save in the mournful hearts of slaves!
Here where thou hadst thy bitter birth

Thy Temple is usurped by knaves.
With bribe and barter they defame

The sacred marbles of thy floor;
Thy children, sunk in shameless shame,

Deny the Beggar at thy door!

ADVE/NTURLLT

oX^ a LTPLCIAL

CORRESPONDENT

t>y GILtfON WILLETtf

IN the lives of those who live by writing
there come not infrequently what may
be called periods of hop-skip-and-jump.
This is true particularly of the special
correspondent, the free lancCj who in the
course of his year's work, "covers" "big
stories" in widely separated corners of
the earth. In my own writing-life the
hop-skip-and-jump periods have, taken
me at times from Lapland to the South
Pacific, from Newfoundland to Ceylon,
and "intermediate points", as the time-
tables say. Hence some years I have
been obliged to make as many as three
round trips across the Atlantic, to "cov-
er" events of international interest. At
the same time I have enjoyed the work
of getting stories of lesser importance,
such as making an ascent in the latest
military balloon in Paris, or attending

the bull-fight in Mexico at which the bull
mingled so freely with the spectators
that a panic and riot ensued. Perhaps
the narrative of some such personal
experience of the special correspondent,
incidental to the work of securing the
larger stories, may prove interesting.

For example, last year twenty ladies
and gentlemen gathered one evening in
the Russian capital. Specifically, they
gathered about a huge oval table on the
Quai bordering the Neva, not very far
from the American embassy. At that
dinner I was present as a friend of the
Russian government as it was. The din-
ner was a secret, typical meeting of rev-
olutionists of the noble class. When I
arrived in my drosky-sled at the palace
door, two men stepped forward and one
said: "What time is it?"

586

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

QUAI IN ST. PETERSBURG, (X) SHOWING AMERICAN EMBASSY

JUST AROUND THE CORNER IS THE PALACE IN WHICH THE DINNER OF THE
RUSSIAN REVOLUTIONISTS WAS GIVEN, WHEN THE AGITATOR ESCAPED THE
POLICE IN THE GARB OF A LACKEY, AS RELATED IN MR. WILLET'S ARTICLE

"The right time," I replied.

Whereupon my interlocutor drummed
a peculiar rat-tat-tat on the palace door,
which at once opened. A minute later
a servant ushered me into a lofty room
where the guests of Count Blank, the
host of the evening, were gathered.
"Had you any trouble with our men out-
side?" asked the count.

"When they asked the time," I replied,
"I simply gave the password as directed
in your verbal invitation to be present
here tonight."

"Gatherings such as this," the count
said, "are, of course, prohibited. But
here we are, without permission of the
police, with the doors barred and sentries
stationed outside as a precaution against
surprise."

One of the men present was, like my-
self, a correspondent for a magazine.
Next to him sat a man whom I will call
simply Monsieur. He was dressed in
the livery of a lackey, a fact which I will
explain later.

He was from Stockholm and his pres-
ence in St. Petersburg was not known to
the secret police, who offered $5,000 to
anyone who would lure him into Russia.

For three days Monsieur had been in
the capital, hidden in the quarters of the
correspondent who now sat beside him.
A day or two later he would leave Russia
as he had come — with the correspond-
ent's passport. The dinner was given in
his honor, and many of those present
had come from distant points in Russia
especially to speak with him. For Mon-

ADVENTURES OF A SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT

587

sieur was and is one of the leaders of the
revolutionary movement. In Stockholm
he publishes the most popular revolu-
tionary paper read by the Russians. The
paper is smuggled into Russia and dis-
tributed entirely by ladies of the best
families and by Jews.

Now, absolutely without warning, the
doors of the great dining-hall were burst
open, and there entered a single indivi-
dual in gorgeous uniform. This was a
man high in the police, named Kagairo-
doff. He is now governor of a province.
At the time of his intrusion he represent-
ed M. Von Plehve, who was afterward
assassinated.

Our host, the count, jumped up and
bowed most politely to the intruder, who
in turn bowed most politely to the count.
They talked awhile in Russian. I was
afterward told that the officer had re-
quested that the company disperse, and
the count thereupon pointed out the fact
that the officer, not having been invited
to the dinner party, — "just a family
affair with friends" —had no right to be
present. It seems that the officer had
effected his entrance by giving the prop-
er password, "right time," which he
had learned from one of the army of spies
in the pay of the police. The only really
dangerous element in the whole pro-
ceeding was the presence of the great
Monsieur, the man whose name no revo-
lutionist in Russia mentions aloud. So
now was the time when Monsieur's
lackey clothes served their purpose.
Those clothes reduced to the minimum
his fear of recognition by the police
officer.

When the count rose, as I have said
he did, the whole company rose. A
lackey at the same time slipped a tray
into the hands of Monsieur. Then while
the count and the officer, with all the
guests around them, were politely argu-
ing the situation, Monsieur himself walk-
ed leisurely out of the room, with his
tray, following a real lackey into certain
subterranean regions of the palace —from

which he did not emerge until the night
following.

II.

The scene changes to India. Of all
the places to which my journalistic du-
ties have called me that might be termed
dangerous, the most perilous were the
plague and cholera camps of Bombay
Province, during the famine of 1900.
There death was close to me, but passed
me by. In the desert for five hundred
miles up or down from Bombay, relief
camps were estabished at intervals.
These relief camps were really great hos-
pitals wherein lay thousands upon thou-
sands of patients. At one such camp
I found thirty thousand natives in the
charge of a single white man. He was
the resident or local governor. And if
ever a brave man lived, it was that res-
ident. Though the only white man
among all those brown men, yet he had
not a single soldier to back up his au-
thority. "But at least I should think
you would go armed,' ' I said to him.

"What good would one revolver or one
rifle do among these thousands of hungry
ones?" he said.

We rode out to his bungalow, which
stood in the desert two miles from the
great camp. Behind us, people were
suffering, in ominous silence. Here was
great courage also enduring in ominous
silence. For at the bungalow was the
resident's wife, a lily parched and shriv-
eling in the furnace air. Now in the res-
ident's compound was a garden in which
were the only growing things in all that
desert. Green things that were pre-
served by using perhaps too much water
from the well that meant the very life of
Mr. and Mrs. Resident. But the gar-
den was kept for the sake of her whose
eyes were kept bright by looking at this
green and who was thus saved the mo-
notony of the bare desert.

The cow-herds of the vicinity, how-
ever, wanted the things of that garden
for their cattle. For there was fodder

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

SCENE IN PLAGUE- AND F A M I N E -- ST RI C KEN INDIA

"WE WENT FORWARD AND WATCHED THE HINDUS BURN THE DEAD VIC-
TIMS OF THE PLAGUE." (THE WRITER STANDS ON THE LEFT OF THE PHOTO)

enough to keep their cows alive until the
government officials came to buy said
cows. Several times the cow-herds had
come to steal the fodder, always -at
night.

"If you hear a row in the night," said
the resident, "don't worry." And he
added that another attack was expected
on the garden, and that it might come to-
night or not for a week. Near midnight
there was a cry of alarm — the cow-herds
were at the garden. I sprang up, siezed
my revolver, went down to the com-
pound. "Hide that weapon! Quickly 1"
said the resident, for he was already on
the spot.

"But you are not armed!" I said.

"No! Weapons would be no more use
here than in the camp." He was in his
pajamas, and he carried a lantern. Then,
standing close to the cow-herds, he ad-
dressed them in their own Gujarati. The
enemy became silent, and the resident
wrote something on a piece of paper and
handed it to the nearest cow-herd.
Whereupon the cow-herds vanished into

the night as mysteriously as they had
come. "The paper I gave those fellows,"
said my host, "was an order on the local
bunniah (grain merchant) for grain. I
suppose I will have to repeat that per-
formance many times more before the
government sends men to buy the starv-
ing cattle. It looks like a comedy, doesn't
it? But it is the kind of tragedy that
saves a life. I do it for — her."

As day was then breaking, we went
forth and watched the Hindus at their
daily task of burning the dead victims
of the plague.

Ill

Again I must take the reader half way
round the world, to Jamaica, where my
train in that lovely West Indian isle was
held up by an executioner. The train
started at daylight — sensible hour in a
tropical climate — from Kingston, bound
for Nannytown, fifty miles away. We
had run about half the distance when the
train stopped, not at a station, but at a
foot path through a sugar plantation.

ADVENTURES OF A SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT

589

"What's the matter?" I asked the con-
ductor.

"It's an execution, sah,"he said. "Jes'
you follow dat black man what jes' got
off dis train and what's goin' up dat road
froo dat sugar field."

"An execution?" I exclaimed. "Do
you mean some one is to be hanged?"

"No sah! Jes' flogged, dat's all.
Dat black man am to do de floggin,'
sah. He am de executioner, sah."

I hastened after the "executioner,"
and so did all my fellow passengers.
The black man was in reality an official
executioner in his majesty's service.
But his principal business, that of hang-
ing people, was his minor business, in
that hanging was of rare occurrence,
while his errand of this morning was
one which he had frequently to per-
form. That is, he had come out on the

train from Kingston to flog a "nigger. "
The plantation upon which we were
now trespassing was one on which all the
laborers were crown prisoners. And the
building toward which we were making
was not a planter's house, but a prison.
Punishment on a Jamaica prison planta-
tion is by flogging— a performance which
takes place in the street in sight of all
the other prisoners, upon whom it is
supposed to have a salutary effect. Nev-
er is the flogging done by an "execution-
er" resident at the prison, for revenge
would speedily end the days of such a
resident. So an entire stranger comes
from a prison miles away — to inflict the
punishment and then to vanish. Hence
the presence of the black official who was
now holding up our train. Behind the
prison was a grove of cocoa palms, and
in this grove there was a fearful shriek-

I I I I

"MY TRAIN STARTED AT DAYLIGHT FROM KINGSTON, JAMAICA"

590

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

ing. "Come and see what they are do-
ing to ole Pinto," cried a little black
girl, the daughter of the prison-keeper.
I found "ole Pinto," a black man, tied
hand and foot to the stump of a tree,
and writhing and screaming in an agony
of fright. The executioner now pro-
duced a little bunch of palm leaf stems,
making of them an instrument of torture
that looked not unlike a cat-'o-nine-tails.
With that primitive knout, and without

not a sign of a cut or of blood, nothing
worse than a series of long welts across
his back.

Another strange part of this scene was
that the negro prisoners who were all
lined up to witness the flogging, for
whose intimidation, indeed, the punish-
ment was carried out, did not seem at all
impressed. For they grinned and hal-
loed and, with each additional stroke,
capered about the ground like so many
delighted children. After the execution-

VISCOUNT HAYASHI, JAPAN'S AMBASSA-
DOR TO GREAT BRITAIN

EUGENIE, EX-EMPRESS OF FRANCE, AN
EXILE IN GREAT BRITAIN

speaking a word to the prisoner, the ex-
ecutioner began the flogging. The
strange thing was that after the first
blow "ole Pinto" stopped yelling and
emitted not another sound during the
few minutes required for the twenty
strokes on his bare back. The reason
was, apparently, that he had suffered
more from fright than he had suffered
now from the flogging itself. For so
skilfully were the blows struck that his
skin showed not the slightest laceration,

er had struck the twentieth blow he
threw down the palm stems, wiped the
perspiration from his face and turning to
me, he said:

"We'll go back to the train now, mis-
ter. I've got another execution over to
Nannytown. There's only this one train
a day to Nannytown, and I couldn't do
these two executions today unless I held
up the train. Sorry to delay your jour-
neys, misters," turning to the passen-
gers as a body, "but these here exe-

ADVENTURES OF A SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT

cutions are by the king's command."

IV.

Once more we cross the seas, this time
to the heart of civilization. This hap-
pened within the walls of the Japanese
Embassy, in Grosvenor Square, London.
My business within those walls was to
interview the Japanese minister to Great
Britain, Viscount Hayashi, the spokes-
man of the mikado in Europe. I was
awaiting my turn, in the great lofty hall
of the mansion, when a Japanese servant
opened the front door and admitted a
lady dresssed quietly in black. She was
not the "veiled lady" of fiction, she was
an old lady of fact. Her slightly wrin-
kled face was exposed to the world, and
my only thought concerning her, as she
passed through the hall, was that she
carried herself remarkably well for so
aged a person, and that she was at once
admitted to the Japanese minister's
office, ahead of all who had arrived be-
fore her. Fifteen minutes later, she
again passed through the hall, this time
on her way out, and with her went a
young Japanese who bowed before her
most obsequiously as she went out of the
door, when he too, passed out, shutting
the door after him. That aged lady in
black was Eugenie, ex-Empress of the
French. One of the Japanese attaches
told me the reason of her visit at that
time:

It seems that there was a lowly Jap in
England whose ambition was to be an-
other Marquis Ito. He wanted to begin
as a soldier in the Japanese ranks in
Manchuria. But someone stood in his
way, and that some one was the ex-Em-
press Eugenie, who employed him as her
valet at her house at Farmborough, near
Aldershot, where for years she had lived.
The valet wrote to the Japanese minister
in London, asking to be sent home to
join his country's legion against the bad
Russians. The minister wrote back that
he would see what could be done, but
added that a Japanese in a foreign coun-

try is not necessarily expected to return
to Japan, and that such return for
military service is not compulsory, but
entirely voluntary. Then down from
Eugenie's house came the little Jap, in
person, to the minister, and asked his
excellency please to hurry matters, as he
simply couldn't wait to go forth to shoot
Russians. And instead of returning to
his post of duty as valet, he tarried in
London. It was then that the next step
was taken by the ex-empress herself.
She came to London and called at the
embassy, as I have described. But first
she had arranged with the Japanese min-
ister, by letter, to have her runaway val-
et at the embassy at the time of her call.
The upshot of the matter was that Eu-
genie begged Viscount Hayashi not to
take the little Jap from her service, as,
indeed, he was not physically able to
shoulder a gun and dig trenches and be
a killer of Russians. Whereupon the
Japanese minister told the little Jap to go
home with her majesty and be a good
boy. So today he is still brushing the
clothes of the gentlemen-in-waiting at
Eugenie's English mansion.

Among other personal experiences of
the special correspondent, I may relate
the following:

First, the officers of a British cruiser,
at Port Said, Egypt, were sending down
divers to bring up the dead from the
submerged gunboat that had been
wrecked off that wickedest city in the
world. The steamer on which I was, on
my way to the Far East, was lying at Port
Said for coal, and I took advantage of
the delay to visit the cruiser. By good
fortune I was permitted to go out on the
boat used by the divers. Two of the
"human fishes" had been under water
only a few minutes — when to our horror,
along came a school of sharks, man-eat-
ers all. One of the sailors telephoned
down to the divers to remain perfectly
still, saying that their mates on the boat

592

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

THE BRITISH DIVERS WHO ESCAPED DEATH AT PORT SAID

would do all possible to scare away the
sharks. So they fired off a pistol, and
then another shot rang on the air, then
followed a fusillade sounding as if a
royal salute was being fired. When the
smoke cleared away, not a shark could
we see, and presently the divers came to
the surface.

"Well, that was a close call," said one
of them, as his helmet was removed.
"My dilemma was this: whether to
stay below, or to go to the surface. If
I stayed below, the sharks might bite
my air hose, perhaps cut it. If I went
up, the sharks might fancy the living di-
ver more than the dead sailors which had
lured them to that spot. But just then
you telephoned. I dared not answer,
for fear the sound of my voice might at-
tract the sharks. What would have hap-
pened if I had made for the surface as
soon as I saw the sharks — I shudder to
think."

Second, in the ancient cathedral at

Seville, in Spain, I witnessed one of the
three dancing festivities that are given
5'early in the sacred edifice. A band of
boys in unique costumes came whirling
and pirouetting up the aisle, and the
spectators applauded just as if they were
at a theatrical performance. A kind of
mediaeval religious procession followed.
Another kind of dance could be wit-
nessed for money in another part of the
town, the so-called national dance. And
I may add that any dance I saw at wick-
ed Port Said was tame compared with
the Spanish fandango seen for money
in Seville. Next day was held a Pas-
sion Play, just as at Oberammagau,
though on not nearly so elaborate a scale.
When I saw the Magdalen I exclaimed:
"Why, that was the girl who danced the
fandango for us last night at the dance-
house." "Right, senor," said my guide.
"You see, when we choose a Magdalen,
we choose a girl noted for her beauty —
not her character. But this occasion

ADVENTURES OF A SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT

593

lifts her into a new life. You will never
again see her dance the fandango, never
again see her in such a place as you saw
her in last night. She will be married
within a year. Always such is the case
with the Magdalen — for she is truly the
penitent."

Third, I with a companion, an official
of the government of Finland, was mak-
ing a long sled journey across the roof
of Finland in mid-Winter. We traveled
in sleds twelve feet long, in which, wrap-
ped in furs, we lay at full length, this be-
ing the most comfortable method of long
distance out-door travel on earth. We
carried our own provisions with us in
that desolate, ice-boiuid region, border-
ing on the Arctic Circle— carried those

provisions in a supply sled. It was be-
cause we carried such provisions that we
had an adventure with highwaymen. Our
highwaymen were not those who hold
up travelers at the end of a gun, but
skulking thieves who sneaked away with
our provisions, wanting our food rather
than our money or our lives. We had
put up for the night at a post-house in a
little village, and had invited two young
ladies, teachers in the local industrial
school, to sup with us, intending
to treat them to some of the canned
goodies which we had brought from
Helsingfors, the Finnish capital. Imag-
ine our consternation when our driver
reported that the provision sled was
gone — that it had disappeared utterly.

THE PASSION PLAY PROCESSION AT SEVILLE, SPAIN

594

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

"Hitch up one of the sleds — put in
the horses quick as lightning," said our
guide to our drivers. "We'll show you,
gentlemen, how we deal with highway-
men in this part of the world."

Ten minutes later we were seated in a
sled driving pellmell over snow in the
the tracks of our own provision sled.
Finally we came to a hut in front of
which stood an empty sled. We could
not identify it as our own, because in that
country all the sleds look alike. We
knocked on the door of the hut, our
guide crying: "Open, or we'll fire
through the door. " The door opened,
revealing a room lighted by a single can-
dle, and — yes! there were our provisions

which signs, in that land of blue eyes
and flaxen hair, I knew that the thieves
were not natives.

"Gypsies!" exclaimed our guide. And
surely enough they proved to be Gypsies
from Bohemia, their presence in this
far northland being about the most re-
markable thing our guide had ever heard
of. They could not understand a word
we said to them, though among us we
spoke six different languages. So while
the Finnish official and I ostentatiously
cocked our revolvers, our guide began
carrying out our provisions. Then the
guide ordered the two men to get into
his sled beside him. The gypsies
obeyed meekly and thus they were car-

PARIS AS SEEN FROM THE MILITARY BALLOON

THE CAPITAL OF FRANCE SEEN FROM THE UPPER AIR RESEMBLES A CART WHEEL
WITH THE MAIN AVENUES AS SPOKES AND THE ARC DE TRIUMPHE AS THE HUB

'scattered over the floor. Two men, three
women, and a few children were seated
about the room. The men had black

.beards, black eyes and black hair, by

ried back to the post-house as prisoners.
We sent for the headman of the village
and turned the gypsies over to him.
Then we opened our canned goodies,

ADVENTURES OF A SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT

595

which we were so glad to recover, and
our young lady guests had a supper such
as they had not tasted for months before.

"What will become of the prisoners?"
I asked our guide.

"Oh, they will not steal again within
the Russian Empire," was the reply.
"The village headman will take them a
six days journey to the nearest railway
station in Finland, then by rail to the

frontier of Russia, where they will be
handed over to the Russian police, by
whom the prisoners will be taken across
Russia to the border of Hungary and
there handed over to the Hungarian
police. Their families may follow as
best they can."

Such are some of the adventures in the
hop-skip-and jump life of the special
correspondent.

THE SAGA OF THE FIVE BROTHERS

By H. C. Gauss

WASHINGTON, DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA

THIS is a twentieth century saga. It
is about a Norwegian fisherman who
still rules his village with his gnarled
fist, even in his old age, and about his
five sons.

Peter Lawson, quartermaster, first
class, narrates this incident when urged
and prompted by the boatswain, and then
only, for Lawson has no conversation and
one feels that he might forget the habit
of speech but for the exercise it gets from
the necessary repetition of the course-
directions of the navigating officer.

The boatswain recites the prologue
and says :

"You remember when they had that
celebration in Boston and the Massachu-
setts and Marietta were there for a week?
Peter was shipmates with me on the
Massachusetts and he put in that week
discovering brothers, didn't you, Peter?"

"First he came aboard and said: 'I
got brodder here, sail-maker.' Next day

he came up and pointed to a yacht lying:
off Constitution wharf. 'See dat boat?'
says he. 'I got brodder on her, sailin'-
master.'

"Next day it was a Cunarder going
out by. 'See dat ship? I got brodder
on her, quartermaster.'

"When we were going out by Boston
light, Peter was just going on watch.
He came up to me and whispered, 'See
dat light? I. got brodder on her.'

"Go ahead, Peter, tell us about the
time you all went home."

Then Peter's face breaks painfully
from its habitual seriousness and this is
the tale he tells :

"My fadder ees a great, big man,
more as six feets big, an' he hammer
hees boy to make 'im tough. Dare been
me, Peter an' Yohn, Sharley, Hoscaran'
Handrace. (Andreas.) We go in de boat
to feesh an' de ole man he hammer
'ell hout de ol'est to make man off

596

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

him. I run, dan Yohn run, dan dey hall
run, I spose, any ways I find dem all in
Boston. We ban settin' in place on Et-
lantic hevenue one night an' we ban
talking our own lankvvidge, see, what
we say thinks in like you say habout
your fadder an' modder and so, and
Sharley he say he like go back; he many
time, what you say, seasick for home, no
— yah, hompsick. I say how much fad-
der like to beat us. Maybe he haf no en-
choyment haffing no poys to beat. Yohn
an' Hoscar dey laugh an' say, 'Come, we
go home an' let our fadder beat us.'

"Wemakedat for September. I go
home before I ship over, four month. I
go in de house place an' de modder cry
an' de peoples comes in ant py ant py
my fadder comes home from feeshin'.

"'Peder,'he says, 'I shall beat you
for run avay. '

" 'Come oudside, fadder,' I says, 'ant
ve vill see.'

"I ban fight plenty man, you bet, bud
I never ban fighting any man like my
fadder. Whoo-oo-oo! I sooner stan'
double watch steerin' wid hand-steerer.
I don't want to make -it too easy for him
and I done pretty goot, but he hammer
me till I holler. Dan we go in de house
an' haff goot time all evenin'.

"Next day Yohn he come home. I see
fadder he sore an' stiff, not want to go
feesh. I ban give him pretty goot fight.
I say, 'See! Here is Yohn, beat him for
run avay.' Fadder tell me shut up an'
Yohn get no beating one, two day. I
see ole man begin feel pretty good an' I
say to Yohn, 'Cheek 'im.' Yohn he cheek
him an' dey go outside an' fight an' bime-
by Yohn holler, but I have to help my
fadder up.

"Next day Sharley he come. I say,
'Fadder, didn't Sharley run avay?' But
fadder he feel of de sore places ant shake
hees head to me not to say anyting.
We stay two, three day, have good time,
go feesh. One day my fadder call Shar-
ley up jes fore daylight go hout in de
boat. Sharley say he not go; ole man

say go or he hammer him. Sharley git
mad, he pretty big man, been bucko
mate, say he lick de ole man. Dey go
out in de mos' dark and' fight long time.
Sharley he holler an' de ole man don't
go feesh ; stay in bed mos' all day.

"Hoscar he come next. Old man
don't get mad very quick some more.
One day him an' Hoscar hout in de boat
an' when dey come in have to hist both
of dem up on de wharf. Ole man say,
'Leggo jib sheet.' Jib sheet she foul an'
ole man say he hammer Hoscar if he
have him ashore. Hoscar say go ashore.
Ole man say he can't afford to lose de
time. Hoscar say he pay for de time.
Dey go ashore an' fight an' fight, jest
can get home.

"My fadder pretty nice now, an' after
while Handrace come long. He young-
est, run last. Ole man pretty mad when
he run. Handrace big feller. My fad-
der look at him ev' night when we sit
By de fire. Go dat way some time. I
tell Handrace cheek him. Handrace
say no, wait and see. One night de ole
man beat his foot on de floor an' say,
'Peter, Yohn, Sharley, Hoscar, I ham-
mer you, you stay for noddings. Han-
drace must pay board.'

"Den we all laugh and ketch hoi' of de
ole man and roll him round, and we hist
him up an' car' him to de beer shop, an
make him drink beer. Den he drink
much beer an' blow about hees sons and
ve have great time. Den an ole feller
speaks about dem times when dey is
fighting wid sooerds and we gries to
dink it ain't now an' everyting like dat.

"De nex' day de bick new boat comes'
around dat we buyed for our fadder and
we all gives him money, more as any
man in de place. Den he say dat it is
because he done his duty an' hammered
us goot and dat de ole boat shall be for
use of men who have bad luck an' lose
dare boat, and dan me an' Yohn an'
Sharley an' Hoscar some time after came
away, but'Handrace he stay an' marry
hees girl."

LECTURING BY LIMELIGHT

By Charles Warren Stoddard

Author of "South Sea Idyls," "Islandsof Tranquil Delights," etc,

MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA

WERE you ever mistaken for another
because you happened to have in-
herited the same family name? Has
your acquaintance ever been sought by
enthusiastic strangers who complimented
you on work you never did, and you had
to cover them with confusion by disclos-
ing your identity, or hold your peace
and feel that you were a coward and a
fraud and a living lie? Mine has, many
a time and oft.

I was once chosen to deliver the poem
on Commencement Day at Santa Clara
college, California. I was a guest of
honor for a week, and some one of the
fathers, the professors or the students
were sure to be within reach of me for
my pleasure and entertainment. One
day a delightful lad was showing me the
beauties pf the neighboring garden city
of San Jose. This was in the good old
days when Miss Olive Logan was popu-
lar as writer and lecturer; as a drawing
card she ranked with Grace Greenwood
and Anna Dickinson. I could see that
my young companion had something on
his mind, something to say to me, and
I was wondering what it might be and
just how and when he was going to say
it. He was growing more familiar, more
at ease all the while, and I was glad
that he had not found me hard to get
acquainted with. Suddenly the little
chap, — he was not out of his teens, — put
his arm through mine and snuggling up
in a confidential way, he said in a burst
of boyish enthusiasm: "Oh! Mr. Stod-
dard, you don't know how much pleas-
ure your writings have given me. I'd
rather read them than do anything else!"

My heart, which I am too apt to wear
upon my sleeve, was in my throat in
a moment. I was really touched, and
I told him how glad I was that anything
I had written had given him pleasure;
that, really, was what all authors were
striving to do and the knowledge that
they had, in a measure, succeeded was
the real joy of their reward. We were
very happy and sympathetic for a mo-
ment, and then he beamed upon me in
a youthful and radiant way and said, to
make assurance doubly sure, I suppose,
"You write under the name of Olive
Logan, don't you?" and, God forgive
me, I said "Yes!" I hope the record-
ing angel had one tear left, for never
was a lie told with a better intention.
All these years I have wondered if that
boy, a man now and perhaps the father
of a family, ever discovered his mistake
and my untruthfulness. Olive Logan
was my friend of yore, but I never told
her of this — that is why I am keeping
it a secret now.

There was a time, when, if anyone
complimented my verse I felt in my
heart of hearts that he had read some-
thing written by the late Richard Henry
Stoddard; and I have always been sorry
that I could not lay claim to the author-
ship of the works of W. O. Stoddard
and Charles Augustus Stoddard, and all
the other Stoddards in the catalogue.
Perhaps my crowning sorrow is the fact
that I am constantly mistaken for John
L. Stoddard, whose highly successful
and always popular illustrated lectures
have made his name a household word
throughout the land. I have been

pointed out as Mr. John L. Stoddard,
and denounced as an imposter because
I was not he. Doubtless, of the many
hundreds of thousands who have heard
him lecture, very few would be able to
to recognize him after the close of the
entertainment, because he lectured in a
darkened hall and was most of the time
invisible. To make the case still more
perplexing, the truth is, I have given
illustrated lectures of travel myself and
cannot deny that my course looked very
much like an infringement on his copy-
right.

I am glad that there is no danger of
my ever doing it again, and now that he
has retired to private life there are two
blanks in the lecture list. It is true
that I am still congratulated upon the
handsomely illustrated volumes of travel-
lectures that Mr. John L. Stoddard has
published, but now it is my custom to
head off all complimentary allusions to
my lectures and my volumes of travel by
instantly announcing that though I have
traveled and printed books of travel, and
lectured upon my travels, I am not the
Stoddard they wot of, but only myself
alone.

My experiences as a public lecturer
are soon told; I would they might be as
soon forgotten. As traveling correspon-
dent of the San Francisco Chronicle, I
had for five years been flitting about
Europe, Asia and Africa. Returning to
San Francisco, the home of my youth,
it was suggested that I make my appear-
ance as a public lecturer. Mr. Lock of
the Bush Street Theater, having come
into possession of a large assortment of
transparencies, was willing to back me
in a venture if I would use his slides
to illustrate my text. An engagement
was effected on the spot. I was to pre-
pare four lectures at my earliest conveni-
ence, select a suitable number of trans-
parencies to illustrate them, and leave
all further details to my manager, a gen-
tleman of great enterprise and large

experience. So far so good. It sounds
easy enough as I write of it. I still
remember how very difficult it was.

It seemed to me that we had hardly
struck our bargain when the peace of my
quiet lodging was dispelled by the arrival
of a case containing four thousand trans-
parent lantern slides; they were photo-
graphs on glass from nature, as well as
copies of famous works of art, all inter-
esting and some of them very beautiful.
The subjects were gathered from the
four quarters of the globe. It must be
confessed that they were in the very
ecstasy of disorder, having been over-
turned again and again by the curiosity
of a host of idlers who had access
to them.

After a week of patient diligence, I suc-
ceeded in classifying them tolerably well,
and then came the question as to the
subjects most likely to attract the public.
I decided to open with the "Tour of the
Holy Land." Jerusalem, illustrated by
a series of photographs, illuminated and
enlarged so as to cover a canvas twenty
feet square, ought, it seemed to me, and
to all with whom I discussed the subject,
to excite the interest of pleasure-seekers.
Fireside travels are inexpensive and not
always fatiguing. One cannot do the
Holy Land every day of the week for
a dollar. I was offering this pleasure to
the little world of San Francisco; it was
before the day of "bargain matinees,"
and a dollar was not thought exorbitant.
On the second night why not do "Rome
and the Vatican?" At the Saturday
morning entertainment, for ladies and
children, what more appropriate than
"Venice: The Queen of the Adriatic?"
Saturday night the season was to close
with a glowing description of "Egypt
and the Nile" — unless the public,
wanned to enthusiasm, were to insist
upon the season being indefinitely pro-
longed.

I could easily have spent a month in
the preparation of each one of these lec-
tures. No doubt I should have done so.

LECTURING BY LIMELIGHT

599

The pictures were selected with care and
arranged and rearranged, again and
again and yet again; it was a little puz-
zling to know just what route to follow
so that the tale of travel might flow
easily and naturally. I assured myself
that it would take me at least two months
to properly prepare for my debut, and
while I was saying it the manager's agent
walked in upon me in a very business-
like way, with a program announcing
that I was to make my appearance at
Platt's Hall, on Thursday, Friday and
Saturday of the following week. The
notes of one lecture were not yet pre-
pared, and in ten days I was to begin
my course. I was paralyzed and did
not believe it possible for me to appear
at all. Already the streets were lined
with huge posters emphasizing with glar-
ing capitals the subjects of the lectures
and bolstering the name of the lecturer
with the customary resounding but hol-
low phrases— "Poet, Author, Traveler,
etc."

My case was desperate. I toiled night
and day in a frenzy of nervous excite-
ment. I awoke from dreams in which
I would suddenly find myself facing an
expectant audience, with my mouth open
and not an audible syllable at my com-
mand. My only consolation was that
the room, being necessarily darkened,
the barely visible audience would
scarcely discover the extent of my em-
barrassment. My notes were hastily
thrown together, arranged and rear-
ranged in a despairing mood verging
upon heart-failure, and a day was ap-
pointed for a rehearsal and private view>
so as to test the working quality of the
instrument and carefully focus the slides.

The night of the rehearsal came all
too soon. Platt's Hall was as Egypt
when I arrived there. A number of my
professional friends were already present
with my manager; they were to sit in
judgment on the entertainment and
offer such suggestions as might occur to
them. The operator, with his assistants,

began the delicate business of adjusting
the lenses and manipulating the piercing
spark which was to reflect the pictures
upon the canvas. The first efforts were
by no means successful ; the light splut-
tered, the lenses were obstinate; the
landscapes blurred and misty. Some of
the slides which I had selected were
found unsuitable; they were smoky and
obscure and, when enlarged upon the
canvas, seemed of little interest by
reason of their total lack of the pictur-
esque element so essential to success in
art. They were, of course, discarded
and others substituted, which necessi-
tated the revision of my notes.

Ill

It was the rainy season in California;
an exceptionally rainy one. It threat-
ened a deluge as my opening night drew
near; it drizzled all the afternoon, rained
heavily and steadily at seven in the
evening and stormed at eight o'clock.
As I entered the hall, a few moments
before eight, I found the audience, what
there was of it, scattered thinly hither
and yon, in dripping raiment. A few
gas-jets flamed lugubriously and seemed
but to add insult to injury; a youthful
pianist — that necessary nuisance in en-
tertainments of this character — was
moping on the back seat awaiting my
orders. A few dear friends were clus-
tered at the door to give me welcome
and offer me those words of cheer and
the much needed encouragement without
which, I fear, I must have gone to the
wall. I was a sorry spectacle, and I was
well aware of the fact. Mr. and Mrs.
"Billy" Florence were there; poor Mme.
Marie Duret, one of the best and truest
of friends, and others now past and
gone; charming Emily Melville, then
the bright, particular operatic star in the
western horizon, had braved the ele-
ments and crossed the bay with a great
armfull of flowers plucked from her own
garden; and there were others full of
sympathy, and distrust, I have no doubt.

6oo

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

Billy Florence, noting in me symptoms
of a possible collapse, suggested a reviv-
ing cup; I sent the lad to the piano, and
while his melancholy notes were tinkling
in my ear Billy Florence and I quaffed
heartily, and, with his soothing hand
upon my shoulder, we returned to the
scene of my sacrifice. The customary
applause greeted me as I approached the
rostrum. I know not what I should
have done without it, and yet how little
it really means. The piano music sub-
sided; the operator was busy with his
instrument. Not knowing what else to
do, and feeling it was my turn to do
something, I arose, and with the glare
of that pitiless ray — no lantern slide was
yet in view and the piercing limelight
was burning into me like a red-hot
needle — I opened the lecture somewhat
in this vein: — \ .

"Ladies and gentlemen, I offer you
my services this evening as guide through
the Holy Land. You shall have the
benefit of my experiences, such as they
have been, without extra charge; with
the aid of these pictures you shall see
that sacred soil as the sun sees it, high-
light for highlight, shadow for shadow.
I believe that the secret of the art of
travel is to make the best of everything;
to enjoy everything in spite of all; there-
fore, let us be genial notwithstanding the
inclemency of the weather. In order to
get the full effect of the illuminated pic-
tures the hall must be darkened. We
shall, from time to time, vary the monot-
ony by the introduction of a piece of
statuary, or perhaps the copy of a famous
painting or a cloud effect — all of them
more or less inappropriate, but there is
rest and renewed interest in change, and
I want you, if possible, to have all the
pleasures of travel with none of the in-
conveniences."

A gracious burst of applause restored
my soul. The lights were extinguished;
the lad at the piano once more began
fingering the keys. At intervals, frpm
various parts of the darkened hall, came

the faint sound of mysterious and sug-
gestive smacks, followed by suppressed
laughter; the audience was evidently in
the best of humors. I took courage.
The experience was not so very dreadful
after all, was it? The operator threw a
mellow disc of light upon the canvas;
adjusted a slide, and there appeared the
picture of a nebulous cloud floating in
space; it was exquisitely beautiful; he
then arranged another slide, and with his
two lenses dissolved one into the other
very skilfully. The effect was enchant-
ing; the clouds, constantly changing,
took various forms of incomparable
beauty, and when an azure-tinted glass
was added the picture was that of a
tropical night wherein the clouds were
silvered with moonlight and seemed
actually to be floating in the veritable
heavens.

Anon the "herald Mercury" appeared
upon the scene; it was before the day
of moving pictures, but he dawned upon
the vision pale, god-like, soaring with
feathered heel, as light as thistledown;
then disappeared, as if fading into the
night, but anon reappeared; and on
each reappearance drew nearer and
nearer, until at last he filled the picture
and looked as if he were about to float
out of it and into our very presence. At
this the audience was roused to some-
thing like enthusiasm and the jocund
pianist struck into a once-popular song,
the words of which, "He flies through
the air with the greatest of ease," — and
something, for the rhyme's sake, about
a "flying trapeze," which seemed hardly
appropriate when applied to the master-
piece of John of Bologna. I was gain-
ing confidence and losing it at frequent
intervals.

I had, with great care, arranged the
several slides in the order in which they
should appear one after the other. The
operator had listened with courteous
attention to my thousand and one moni-
tions. Imagine my dismay when I dis-
covered upon the appearance of the first

LECTURING BY LIMELIGHT

60 1

landscape picture that he had begun at
the wrong end of the series and was
working backward. Of course I flew
to him and rectified the ludicrous
error.

We began again. All went well for a
time; the pianist played nimbly during
the intervals when the pictures were
being dissolved one into another, and
sometimes his selections were very nearly
appropriate. We should certainly have
had a rehearsal together, he and I, and
a perfect understanding as to what theme
was to be chosen for each view. I took
up the thread of the narrative as soon
as the landscapes had evolved them-
selves out of the . momentary chaos of
light and shade that characterized the
brief period of transition. It was rather
jolly, on the whole, though I was obliged
to confine myself to my notes on the
opening night, and these I had spread
within a box that stood upon a stand
between me and the audience and was
open only on the side toward me. The
box was lighted within by a half-dozen
flaming candles, and the heat that came
from it as I stood near was like that of
a red-hot oven. To the naked eye of
the observer in the audience I must
have appeared like the soul of a sala-
mander reveling in purgatorial fires.

Presently there was a startling break
in the journey; the operator, why, I
know not, skipped quite into the middle
of the program. I was obliged to at
once turn improvisatore, for I could not
pause to hunt up the text that went with
the picture. From that moment one
surprise followed another in quick suc-
cession. I closed my notes, extinguished
the candles in the reading-box and
awaited developments. Then word came
from the rear of the hall that the echoes
were deafening in that almost unin-
habited quarter; later a second messen-
ger was dispatched to me announcing
that I must shorten my discourse, for the
light would not last much longer. A
leak had been discovered in the gas-

tank. We might possibly blow up at
any moment.

There was nothing now left me but
to hasten to the close without alarming
the audience, and this I was doing to
the best of my ability when a third
messenger arrived. He begged me to
announce that as there was still a little
gas left, that "while the lamp held out
to burn" — the thrifty operator not caring
to hide his light under a bushel — the
entertainment would proceed and con-
clude with a series of beautifully colored
biblical views graphically illustrating the
Old and New Testament history. Those
views which I knew nothing of, having
thrown them aside as commonplace and
inartistic, and which the operator, who
had assisted me in classifying the slides,
must, in a moment of rapture, have
secreted upon his person, proved to be
extremely mediocre figure groups whose
original ugliness was aggravated by a
lavish use of crude color. They were
each quite as splendid as a chromo
struck by lightning. I allowed them all
to pass without a word of comment or
explanation. The pianist gave free play
to his fingers and his fancy, and my
gratitude when the last of the series, that
of Mary Magdalene, — who seemed to
have backslidden, for her lurid effigy
had been carelessly inserted upside-
down — my deep and unutterable grati-
tude was only equalled by the generous
applause of the indulgent and very
friendly audience.

The second night was like unto the
first. I might with propriety and abso-
lute certainty have concluded all printed
announcements during the season with
this cheerful line: — "Umbrellas, water-
proofs and goloshes may be ordered at
9:45." My faithful but unfortunate
audience arrived promptly each evening,
wrung itself out, settled into the moist
seats and sat steaming, with damp feet
and colds in the head, until the last
biblical picture — that operator doted on
them — was consumed in a perfect con-

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

flagration of color. And then came the
pleasantest feature of the experience, so
far as it concerned me, for on each occa-
sion pleasant people lingered to con-
gratulate me — I never knew just why —
and to pay me many compliments, un-
worthy as I was.

I remember how three little women
approached me after the lecture one
evening, each one introducing the other
in a pretty, old-fashioned way. They
said that I should go to New England
and lecture there, from town to town, all
through the Winter. The Lyceum Cir-
cuit was then so well arranged and so
carefully and systematically conducted
that, through its manager, one who was
in the public eye at the time might have
secured a series of engagements in many
towns and villages. The dates were all
arranged so as not to interfere with one
another; the price to be received nightly
was fixed — perhaps some towns could
pay more, some less than the regulation
price; all that was expected of the lec-
turer was to allow the manager of the
Lyceum Circuit his moderate percent-
age, follow the itinerary which he had
carefully prepared, and make one's ap-
pearance promptly at the proper time
and place. This was easily done, for
the time-tables of the railways had been
duly consulted, and nothing but a heavy
storm, a blockade or ill health need de-
range the plan for the whole season.
Those little women drew a lively and
attractive picture of the wintry nights
in their dear old New England ; the well
lighted, well heated, well filled village
or town hall; the old ladies in caps
busily knitting in the front seats, chat-
ting and "visiting" with one another
until the lecturer had begun to speak,
and then laying down their knitting from
time to time to beam upon him over
the silver rims of their spectacles; or
perhaps heave a gentle sigh and "wipe
their specs" if he grew too pathetic.

The young ladies and their escorts
were sure to be there, and, of course,
supremely happy in one another's so-
ciety. They could not always sit to-
gether at "meeting," but here they
could, and as close together as possible.
All those present were quite accustomed
to listening to lectures and almost pre-
ferred them to any other form of enter-
tainment then in vogue.

Such is, or was, the life of the lecturer
in the New England lyceums of the past.
He was a well trained Lion perpetually
on exhibition; the autograph hunters
hovered near him; he was forever mak-
ing new friends wherever he went, and
many of these were really charming; he
was making money, also, for his expenses
were comparatively light. A popular
lecturer once told me that he considered
his annual season worth at least twenty
thousand dollars to him. But what a
weary work it is when one is booked for
three or perhaps even six lectures per
week, and has a railway, or coach, or
steamboat journey after each and all of
them; and thus it may be, without cessa-
tion, for four or five more or less cold
and stormy months.

Josh Billings, the American humorist
so popular in his day, had just finished
a successful season. Night after night,
week after week, month after month, he
had, precisely at the hour of eight, faced
all kinds of audiences in all kinds of
weather and all kinds of moods. Sol-
emnly approaching the front of the ros-
trum, he had said in his most serious
manner: — "Ladies and gentlemen! I
am here before you this evening to tell
you what I know about 'Milk!' ' Of
course he had made the same points, or
endeavored to, so often that they had
become distasteful to him, and, once
more in his own home, the season at an
end and he free to do and say what he
pleased, he threw himself on his lounge
after dinner and heartily thanked God
that his labors were at an end. The fire
blazed brightly upon the hearth; grand-

LECTURING BY LIMELIGHT

603

father's clock ticked slowly, contentedly,
soothingly, in the corner of the room.
He sank into a blissful sleep, such as it
seemed he had not known for ages.
With great deliberation, but firmly, as
one having authority, the clock struck
eight! Josh arose from his pillow,
stalked forward, and, placing himself in
front of the fire, rubbing his hands to-
gether as many lecturers have a habit of
doing, he said: "Ladies and gentlemen!
I am here— before you this evening — to
tell you what I know about 'Milk!' '
— and then he woke up. It was the
force of habit; it had become automatic;
it showed how his arduous duties had
robbed his soul of rest.

I was with Mark Twain daily and
nightly while for eight weeks he lectured
at the Queen's Concert Rooms, Hanover
Square, London, and I know the wear
and tear of it on his nerves. When we
returned together, after his lecture was
over and he had shaken hands with those
who counted it a very great privilege
which he had graciously granted; and
had written in the autograph albums that
were always awaiting him — after our
return to his delightful apartment at the
Langham Hotel, he was happy enough
until he awoke next morning. But the
burden of the day was on his mind and
hardly ever off it until the next lecture
was over.

One evening in San Francisco, at the
close of my lecture, a young man came
forward and greeted me with consider-
able embarrassment, but with such
modesty and such evident sincerity
that I regretted our interview was so
short. He said, extending the calloused
palm of a son of toil, "I want to shake
hands with you, for you are a true Bo-
hemian." To this hour I do not know
just what he meant, but I am sure it was
something good and kind. "I want to
shake hands with you," said he; "I am
only a poor day-laborer, but I want the
honor of shaking you by the hand.' ' He
got it, if there was any honor in it, and

a right-hand-of-fellowship could not have
been heartier, as I said to him: "I also
am a day-laborer, my dear fellow; the
only difference between us is that you
work with your pick and I with my pen;
they are as near alike as two P's!"

I must confess that I was always a
little afraid that my pianist might go
astray; he played skillfully and with
taste, but his selections were invariably
of a light character and their range
limited. Occasionally he was humorous,
but whether intentionally or innocently
I was never quite sure. On the night
of the second lecture a photograph of
one of those colossal infant angels by
Michael Angelo that are poised above the
huge holy-water font in St. Peter's was
exhibited; the lecture was on Rome;
while the picture was upon the screen
and so enlarged that the infant looked
enormous, the young rascal played with
mock sentiment "Baby Mine," a ballad
very popular in that day.

I shall not soon forget my last night
on the lecture platform in San Fran-
cisco. The evening's entertainment was
about two-thirds over ; we were away up
in the wilds of Nubia; the many beauti-
ful Nile views had appeared to great
advantage, and as for myself, I could not
have spoken on a subject more con-
genial. We were at the Colossi of Aboo
Simbel, or Ipsambool, as some call it,
when suddenly, without a moment's
warning, the light went out and we
were left in utter darkness. There was
ghastly silence for a moment and then
some budding humorist of the western
breed cried in aloud voice: "Where was
Moses — ? ' '

A messenger groped his way to my
desk and explained the predicament.
Had you been there you might have
heard the voice of one crying in the
wilderness, out of the blackness of dark-
ness, and above the rippling laughter
created by the anxious inquiry concern-

604

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

ing the exact location of the Hebrew
prophet, as follows: "Ladies and gentle-
men, I regret to state that the lecture
this evening must be brought to an un-
timely close. I am creditably informed
that the apparatus has collapsed." In
a calmer moment I was assured by one
who was present that I had said, dis-
tinctly, "The whole concern has busted!"
Be that as it may, there was a respectful
silence while a few gas jets were lighted
about the hall. Someone said: "I sug-
gest that the lecturer finish his lecture
without the illustrations." I gently
but firmly protested. Then some good
Samaritan added: "Under the circum-
stances, I propose that we adjourn."
"Many thanks," I replied, and, with a
hearty round of applause and no little
merriment, the season was brought to a
close.

Was I discouraged? By no means!
It began to seem like a capital joke, and
joyfully I went over the bay to the sister
city of Oakland for two evenings. The
storm continued. The church in which
I spoke, a tall frame building with the
auditorium on the upper floor, quaked
in the furious wind. The heavy appa-
ratus combined with the weight of a slim
audience were not sufficient to steady
the floor and the consequence was that
the views quivered upon the canvas
stretched before the pulpit and in mo-
ments of indulgent applause danced in
a very ridiculous manner.

It was evident that the adverse cir-
cumstances were too much for the opera-
tor and that he was becoming demoral-
ized. Some of the slides were inverted,
some were reversed so that the land-
scapes were wrong end to; think of fac-
ing the ducal palace from the Venetian
lagoon and having the prison and the
Bridge of Sighs to the left of it, and
the Campanile — now alas! no more— on
the right! Some of the pictures reap-
peared at intervals, as if laboring under
the impression that they had been en-
cored.

The second night was even worse than
the first. It seemed as if I had only to
open my mouth and the heavens fell.
The eaves spouted torrents; the gutters
were a-flood. It would have been money
in the pocket of any granger in a dry
land to have engaged me for a course of
lectures. Even the suggestion of my
name seemed to have a pronounced
effect upon the atmosphere, for on
another occasion, when I was invited
to address an association but declined,
as I was waterlogged by this time, it
rained just the same. The deluge ap-
peared in my stead, and this bitter
fatality mocked me to the end.

In Oakland, which was pleasantly pro-
vincial in those days, some of the after-
lecture interviews were amusing. One
old gentleman led me into a corner apart
from the others who were waiting their
turn to speak with me, and said with
some severity: "Do you mean to tell me
that you have been to all those places,
yourself?" I replied that I had had that
pleasure. "Humph!" said he and turned
on his heel. He evidently did not be-
lieve me. Another gentleman whom I
took to be a clergyman, judging from his
type of face and the cut of his garb,
asked: "When were you in the Holy
Land?" I answered, "In 1876." To
which he replied with some scorn:
"Phsaw! I was there years before you
were." I don't think that all tourists
feel that they have preemption rights in
a land because they may have visited it
before those who followed after.

There were young people who waited
at the door to say goodnight; the auto-
graph hunters ran me down in person or
by post, but I was easy game, having
been one of the clan myself; and many
a pleasant chat I had with those whose
spontaneous friendship emboldened them
to address me. But our expenses were
heavy; the cumbersome apparatus, the
operator and his aides, the pianist, the
agent and the ticket man had become
a burden too great to bear. Moreover,

LECTURING BY LIMELIGHT

605

we had been working against wind and
tide from the first, and, to my very great
relief, it was decided to cancel all the
remaining engagements, and there we
called a halt.

I don't care to attempt the pictorial
lecture again; the machinery is too com-
plicated and too eccentric. One is at
the mercy of operator and pianist, and
even the little spark, on which all else
depends, may on a sudden, as it did
with me, expire in utter darkness.

How much pleasanter my memory of
a mid-Summer night in the village of
Martinez, where I was to lecture for the
benefit of a church that looked like a
wood-cut out of an old-fashioned story
book. It stood in the edge of the grove
which Bret Harte wrote of in a sketch
called "In the Carquinez Woods." The
village was pastoral and in its way pic-
torial ; the inhabitants were almost primi-
tive, for they were delightfully unspoiled.
As I landed from the ferry and passed
up the quiet street, I seemed to have
passed into another world. The simple
life might be easily and honestly led in
such a settlement; just as it has been
led and lived in monastic communities
from the Middle Ages down to date, and
nothing special has been said of it; in-
deed the fact has been passed unnoticed
by the world at large. It seems to have
required the call of a French peasant to
suggest the new fad in certain restricted
circles.

Wandering up the quiet street, with
its border of wild daisies, I saw the
quaintest little handbills announcing my
lecture tacked to the bark of the trees
along the way; they were no doubt the
triumph of the local printer's art and
were but the last rustic touch that per-
fected the rural scene.

As a child I had visited Martinez,
during a school vacation, with a chum
whose home it was; and together we had
explored every flowery nook and corner

in the land. Now I was again there,
revisiting those old haunts, but alone
this time; the chum had wandered, like
the rest of us in the course of time, and
it was probably with him as it had been
with me — out of sight, out of mind. I
was lodged in the same old home and
served by the same dear hands, and it
seemed almost as if no change had
visited the village, save to steal away the
comrade of my youth.

After dinner I sat alone in my room,
musing on the past. It was the same old
room, unaltered in any particular, and
I am quite sure that if he had been
there we should have been boys again
together.

The church bell began to ring gaily; it
didn't sound a bit like a "church-going
bell;" it was more like a school bell call-
ing the reluctant truants in from the Car-
quinez woods, for it rang and rang and
rang. I began to think that it would
never stop ringing — and it did not until
I was solemnly conducted to the pulpit
by the pastor himself, under a blaze of
kerosene lamps with large, round reflec-
tors. We sat a few moments like graven
images, the parson and I — I suppose
dignity required it — and then I was for-
mally presented to the congregation — I
mean audience. I could have whispered
to almost anyone in the room, it was so
small, and so cosy, and so compact.

What bright faces were upturned to
me that pleasant evening; I shall never
quite forget them. My subject, "The
Confessions of a Foreign Correspon-
dent," gave the details of such private
experiences as I thought most likely to
interest a listener; well, something like
this, for instance: — "How I passed my
first night alone, a stranger in a strange
land; wretchedly! — How I passed the
second night; charmingly! — Life in Lon-
don Lodgings— A Chum in Old Chester
— George Eliot at Home — Mark Twain
and His English Audiences — Lost in
Rome — Bachelor's Hall in Venice —
Boat Life on the Nile — On a Syrian

6o6

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

House-top — Summer Life in Capri —
etc., etc."

It was great fun — for me. I might
have gone on indefinitely, but fortun-
ately for them I didn't. We just talked
to one another, I with my lips and they
with their eyes. I picked out one beau-
tiful face and came back to it again and
again for refreshment. There was a lad
and his lassie who were bubbling over
with good nature; and some elderly
people who leaned forward and listened
as if they were deeply interested. It
was flattering and inspiring and no effort
at all for me. There was a babe in the
house, a well-spring of anything but joy,
for it lifted up its voice at intervals in
mild complaint. Even this could not dis-
turb the sincere pleasure I took in that
exceptional audience. The parents of
the babe vainly strove to muffle its cries,
and at last stowed it away under the
pew, but with disastrous results; at last
they were compelled to withdraw before
the close of the lecture, and they left an
apology and a regret on the lips of a
friend which were both formally de-
livered to me as soon as I had de-
scended from the pulpit.

Then came congratulations and dem-
onstrations and invitations. I was
dragged most willingly away by the
beautiful lady and her friends to a
sumptuous supper and a couch of lux-
ury in the swellest mansion in the place.
I could have tarried indefinitely in Mar-
tinez and its garden suburbs and lived
the life of a sybarite— if the word of the

inhabitants was worth anything at all;
for first one and then another claimed
the pleasure of my society, and fearing
that I might fall never to rise again, in
a kind of delicious despair I fled from
temptation by the earliest train of the
following morning. It is sometimes
dangerous to be too happy.

I might have been seduced into the
lecture field again had I been certain of
another experience like the last; perhaps
I hoped for it when I so far forgot my-
self as to appear twice in a celebrated
convent school in Washington, D. C.,
where I spoke of Father Damien,
the leper priest, and Robert Louis
Stevenson, both of whom I knew and
loved; on each occasion I was the
victim of a stage fright that would
have been ludicrous had it not been
pitiful.

Even thirteen years' experience in the
class-room at the Catholic University at
Washington, D. C., where I lectured on
English Literature four times a week,
did not make me feel quite at ease with
the students. And so I have made my
final bow and very willingly and very
gratefully withdraw from the glare of the
limelight. I can still smile, however, at
one little incident that occurred as I was
leaving Platt's Hall after a lecture. A
young man sidled up to me in a trust-
ful sort of way, and, touching his hat
politely, said in a stage-whisper: "Sir!
Can you kindly lend me the price of
a night's lodging? I have just given
my last dollar to hear this lecture!"

THOUGHT

By Sarah D. Hobart

FALL RIVER, WISCONSIN

THAT which we speak moves in a narrow round;

' That which we do affects the human race;
That which we think, o'erleaps the wide world's bound
And leaves its record on the shores of space.

"THESE I, SINGING IN SPRING"

— ({'alt Whitman

WHEN APRIL CALLS

By Hilton R. Greer

PITTSBURG, TEXAS

li/HEN April calls, and hill and coppice ring

With rapture at the silver summoning,
Wild echoes wake in solitudes serene
Where drooping dogwood boughs that overlean
Startle the slopes with sudden blossoming.

The light-lipped ripples through the shallows sing;
The tremulous tassels of the willows swing,
And coverts dim grow glimrneringly green,
When April calls.

O brooding heart! Pluck out the venomed sting
Of poignant Sorrow! Set caged Care a-wingl
Old ardors burn the blood, and coursing clean,
Thrill sluggish pulses with an impulse keen
To follow fleet the flying feet of Spring,
When April calls!

MARCH IN KANSAS

By A. A. B. Cavaness

B AL DW IN , KANSAS

MARCH is a wondrous battle-ground

And wild the conflicts are —
O, furiously the troopers ride
From North and Southern star!

And ever the March is come again,
Again from South and North,

Swifter than ancient cavalry
Their warriors come forth.

Chill is the steel of Northern spears
And hot the Southern swords,

Yet never we know what angereth
The howling midnight hordes.

Last night the bivouac of the spears

The swords, a hurricane,
Out -shrieking fiends, the Northmen
smote

And routed them amain.

Then resting from iheir giant toil
And dropt to slumbers sweet-
Sudden the hosts of Aeolus
Sweep back in mail of sleet, —

With banners crowning battlements
Daring the blades with scorn,

Till dipt in fire the sabres' ire
With glory flags the Morn.

Yet never the flash of sword or spear
Is seen on the bloodless fields,

But rings the shout of the battle's rout
And clash of the phantom shields.

Thus ever the deathless feud is fought
And March is lost and won,

Till the last campers yield the fight
To showers and the sun.

608

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

SPRING SONG

LEBANON,

fLEAR from the thicket where young

buds gleam,

A song pours forth in a silvery stream;
And the bird-voice twitters and carols

a tune
Which speaks of the joy of a coming

June!

The crisp, clean air is good to smell,
As it creeps in waves from a cool, deep

dell;
And the tang from the forest is sweet

and rare
As the odors which pagan priests pre-

pare.

By Edwin Carlile Litsey

KENTUCKY

The pale green grasses quiver and

bend
And drink the warmth which the sun'

rays lend,
And deep in a sheltered hollow

warm
A tiny flower takes shape and form.

The brown bee tries his wings again
From the cloistered hive where months

he's lain;
And a faint perfume steals sweetly

up
From the bowl where the bee alights to

sup.

THE WATER LILY

By Ernest McGaffey

LEWISTOWN, ILLINOIS

IN Hampshire waters lightly resting
Snow-white and pure as heaven's angels are,

The lily lies, the dancing ripples breasting.
How like it seems to some new-fallen star,

Low-lying on a liquid sky

Where shadow-clouds go drifting slowly by.

Above its bed the mountains tower
Peak upon peak in silent grandeur vast,

Among the clouds they rise in conscious power
Rugged and grimly bold ; and yet at last

How scarred and seamed their lofty forms —

On highest paths still fall the fiercest storms.

But here with sunlight round it streaming
Its sleep is undisturbed; no sound is heard

To mar the rapt, still current of its dreaming
Save lapping water, or sweet-piping bird;

The pulsing air around it filled

With ruddy wine from Summer's beaker spilled.

Not for those petals glowing blushes
Such as suffuse the petals of the rose;

Nun-like it peereth from a hood of rushes
The queen by right o'er every flower that blows;

Earth-born, yet with the starry face

Clasped in the loving water's close embrace.

"THESE I, SINGING IN SPRING" 6c$

AN IOWA APRIL * j» By Oscar Johnson

BERTRAM,' IOWA

r\EAR month of sunshine and of silver showers,

What can in simple loveliness surpass
Thy fair green fields and woods, and thy fresh flowers

That nestle in the soft, sweet-scented grass,
Filling the air with fragrance? What could be

More strangely sweet, more pleasing to the ear,
Than those clear notes of softly bubbling glee

That birds pour forth from vales and hillsides near?
Sweet month, thou art like childhood: thy serene

And quiet days of sunshine and of showers,
Thy warbling birds, thy blossoms sweet that lean

O'er tinkling streams in sunlit, sylvan bowers,
Remind me of the days when I, a child,
Did wander through the fields and woodlands wild.

A PLACE OF PEACE + By Eugene C. Dolson

FLORIDAVI LLE, NBW YORK

A LONG this unfrequented way, She hears, at dawn, the robin call;

M The odd-shaped houses, well-kept At dusk) the kildee, crying shrill,

SO1*' And sometimes, after evenfall,

Unto my mind a sense convey The londy whip.poor.will.

Of thrift and honest toil.

Here opened first her eyes to light;
Bright milk cans near a well-sweep stand,

Here dawned her happy bridal morn ;
And over them a woman fair

„. , , .^ , , , Here closed her parents eyes in night;

Works eagerly with busy hands ,

Her round arms white and bare.

Never before saw I her face, Not hers the restless heart to roam

But see her now, some loved home-wife, For J°y that other scenes confer ;

Who, in the quiet of this place, The sacred cares of love and home

Lives out her perfect life. Are all the world to her.

SALLY, DICK AND THE FROG

By Harold Child

NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

OLD Angus MacNorton had raced the
devil from Gumberry down the
moonshine trail to the very door of his
cabin, and in consequence was leading
his family a strenuous life.

Miss Sally, the eldest daughter, slipped
quietly from the back door of the one-
story, mud-chinked log cabin and sped
over the few acres of cleared ground to
the surrounding woods. Penetrating the
forest a little way, she came to a natural
clearing, in the center of which was a
fallen sapling suspended from its broken
trunk, forming a "horse'n-log." Mount-
ing this, she sat swinging her bare brown
feet, while an occasional tear crept from
her pretty eyes to mingle with the morn-
ing dew of the greensward beneath her
high perch. Presently there was a
crackle of the undergrowth near-by and
a couple of deer hounds sprang into the
clearing followed closely by their master,
who, crossing quickly to the girl, leaned
his rifle against a stump and grasping
five of the brown toes in his brawny
hand, gave them a vigorous squeeze.

"Howdy, Sal," said he. "Been here
long?"

"Not so very. Thought I wasn't goin'
to git the chance to come. What'd you
do to him, Dick?"

"I did 'bout like we agreed, 'ceptin' o'
one thing — "

"You was only to dress up in ma's
clothes an' lay down in the trail, an'
make pap think he'd seen a vision,
hopin' it would break him o' swillin'
moonshine — ain't that what I agreed to,
Mr. Jones?"

"Jest so."

"Well, an' what else did you do, to
scare him clean out o' his head?"

"Nothin', much."

"You tell me jest how much, Mr.
Jones!"

"Well, I puts on your ma's dress an'
slat bonnet, an' lays down in the trail
an' waits. By an' by, your pap he
comes along, kiverin' both sides o' the
trail. He gits near onto me afore he
sees me, then he stops sudden like, an'
I groans an' keeps on a-groanin'. 'What
you doin' here, an' what's a ailin' of ye,
Liz?' says he, try in' to pick me up. I
keeps my face in the bonnet, an' groans
more distressing an' he says in a sor-
rowful way: "I'm drunk! Drunker nor
I ever be in my life, an' here's Liz be'n
bit by a pizen snake, an' I kaint git
'er home!'

"I thinks he's repentin,' so I gits to
my feet an' turns three summersets sud-
den like, then lays down. I tell you, he
was plum upsot!

'"Great guns, Liz! what sort o' a
snake has bit ye?' says he. At that, I
Stan's on my head an' spins round and
round. The dress slips down over my
head an' I whips it off — "

"What'd you have on under that dress,
Dick?"

"Red calico, a fittin' tight an' a fox
tail hitched on. When your pa sees a
red devil skin out o' your ma's clothes
he strikes a bee-line fer the house,
a yellin' at every jump, an' I comin'
a trottin' behind, switchin' o' my tail
an' turnin' han' springs — "

The young man paused for a moment
to listen intently to a strenuous refrain

SALLY, DICK AND THE FROG

611

that came to them on the gentle wind.

"Take 'er away! — take 'er awayl —
She's red— red as — 1"

"Ma's havin' a time!" remarked Miss
Sally, then she turned fierce eyes on her
companion.

"I'm a good min' to jump on you, an'
mash you into the groun', Dick Jones!
You've run him plum crazy with your
red devil meanness, an' I'll never speak
to you after this!"

Dick glanced at her flashing eyes,
then bending his head said in contrite
tones:

"Jump, Sally, jump, an' mash me into
the earth, but don't quit speakin'!"

She did jump, and he purposely placed
himself in her way, going to the earth
beneath her. This was too much for her
Scotch-Irish temperament.

"Take that! an' that! an' that!" she
cried, pounding with all her force his
broad back. "An' don't you come near
me till I send fer you!" were her parting
words as she sped away through the
thicket.

It was a week later that Dick Jones
received a request from Angus MacNor-
ton to call at his cabin. Abe Ward
bought the message.

"The old man's got 'ligious feelin's,"
said Abe. "Says there's a red devil
runnin' 'round in these woods, an'
nothin' less'n a parson kin drive him
out. He says, Dick, as how that power-
ful preachin' an' prayin' Parson Peter-
son down Lockwood's Folly way, must
V run him up in these woods, an' if
we don't start some sort o' opposition,
he'll ketch the last one o' us."

When Dick called at the MacNorton
cabin, he was greeted with great cor-
diality by the old folks; Miss Sally
vouchsafed nothing but occasional dis-
dainful and unfriendly glances.

"Dick," began old Angus, when the
family had gathered about a cheerful
watch-fire in the open, "you bein' the
most likely youngun hereabouts an' the
most 'ligiously inclined, I has concluded

to ask your help an' advice, in drivin'
away that devil which Parson Peterson
has scared up in our woods. We folks
has been sort o' back'ards in 'ligious
matters, an' I'm thinkin' it wouldn't be
a bad notion to build a little meetin'
house where we would have a preacher
to say a comfortin' word now and then
to we old folks; an' we might start a
little Sunday school, so's the younguns
could 1'arn to pray and sing to the glori-
fication o' their Maker. An' I wants
you to build the meetin' house, Dick,
'cause you is the only one hereabouts as
kin rive a shingle an' hew a log fit fer
to go in a house o' the Lord's."

The old man paused for a reply.

"Dick reloaded his corncob with a
charge of "home-cured," smoked several
moments in silence, then said:

"Well, Angus, I be willin' 'nough, but
you know yourself, it's somethin' of a
job. A proper meetin' house ought to
be shingled all over an' have a good
floorin' an' a bell."

"Jest so, Dick: an' there's nobody as
kin do it better."

"Abe might," remarked Miss Sally.

"He might, an' then ag'in he might-
n't; most likely he mightn't," replied
Dick, but still addressing the moon-
shiner. "An' I'll tell you what I'll do:
I'll build the meetin' house, put a little
steeple on it, an' throw in the bell, if
you'll agree to let me an' Sally tie up
when it's finished."

"It takes more'n two to make that
bargain, Mr. Jones. Pap's not goin' to
bargain me away 'thout my sayso; but
as you is anxious fer a bargain, I'll tell
you what I'll do: when the meetin'
house is finished, an' pap's got 'nough
'ligion to quit makin' an' swillin' moon-
shine, I'll tie up with you, if I hain't
seen anyone I like better."

"Beggars kaint be choosers, Sally, an'
I agrees; be you willin', Angus?"

"Yes, I agrees, Dick, an' if atween
you, Sal an' the parson I kaint be
snatched from the burnin', why the

612

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

devil may have me — an' by gum, he was
close on me, t'other day!"

Such were the conditions under which
Dick Jones began what at the time, and
in that particular section of North Caro-
lina, was no small undertaking, and the
little meeting house, so far as Dick's in-
terests were concerned, was to be a peace
offering to Miss Sally. He had little
hope of the conversion of his prospective
father-in-law. .

He calculated that six months' steady
work would see its completion, but in
the beginning there were incidents that
put him back. The flooding of Juniper
Lowlands carried away the first five thou-
sand completed shingles, all "hearts"
and carefully finished. Then Coot Mac-
Colm's carelessness with a pile of burn-
ing brush set the woods ablaze and
burned a goodly portion of the large
timbers which were complete and rest-
ing in the woods ready for hauling. Not-
withstanding these setbacks, the end of
the year saw the building well under
way. In the meantime, however, old
Angus had lost all religious "feelings,"
and was consuming more and more of
his deadly brew. He had also acquired
a mania that was very peculiar in its
nature and particularly embarrassing to
his family.

Near the trail which led into the Big
Green where his still was hidden was
a pond, deep and stagnant. Thousands
of frogs tenanted its murky waters with
a big bull to lead the nightly chorus.
The bellowing of this big frog of nights,
as the old moonshiner returned along the
lonely trail, got on his nerves and thence
to his whiskey-soaked brain. One night
Abe Ward, chancing by the pond, was
attracted by an unusual disturbance.
Said he:

"I was passin', an' I hears the king
bellerin' away as usual, then suddenly
he stops, an' all the little frogs they
stops, an* I stops. I was thinkin' to
take a squint into the pond to see if
some wild geese hadn't stopped fer the

night, when the alfiredest caterwaulin'
breaks loose, that these years has ever
hern. Great snakes, but it was some-
thin' alarmin'! An' me, that's never
run from man or beast, starts on a trot.
But the moon comin' out jest then, I
picks up courage an' goes back to have
a look. Well-sir-ee! When I did git
a glimpse o' the new varmint I almost
tumbles into the pond— it was Angus!
He'd crawled out on a log near to the
middle o' the pond an' was doubled all
up a bellerin' o' bellers that was puttin'
the king clean out o' the bizness, an'
presently he takes a leap, an' I has to
wade in an' fish him out."

This was Abe's version of an incident
that at the time was thought to be of
little moment. The following night,
however, Angus was fished out under
precisely the same conditions, and the
family, becoming alarmed for the old
man's safety> thought it necessary for
someone to accompany him from the
still every night.

Miss Sally placed the blame of this
new trouble on Dick.

"He thinks the big frog is the same
devil as chased him, Dick," said she,
and completely ignoring the part she had
taken in Dick's thoughtless prank, she
gave that young man another tongue-
lashing, and wound up by insisting that
he assume the nightly guardianship of
her father.

The old moonshiner was perfectly
rational through the day, but as soon as
the gathering shades set the king to bel-
lowing in Gumberry, he would quit his
work and make for the pond, and it
required all of Dick's strength and in-
genuity to get him safely home.

Dick worked steadily on the meeting
house and it was nearing completion,
but the continued struggles on the mar-
gin of Gumberry after the day's work
were telling on his strength and patience.

Miss Sally and her mother were anx-
ious for religious services, hoping and
believing it would be the old man's final

SALLY, DICK AND THE FROG

613

cure. Dick, however, hit upon the idea
of removing the big bullfrog from Gum-
berry, but his frogship refused to be
enticed by any device known to frog-
hunters, and Dick became almost as
arduous in his pursuit of the frog as
Angus.

"Sally," said he one night as they
were sitting in opposite chimney cor-
ners, "I'm goin' to git that frog if I
have to cut a ditch from Gumberry to
the Run!"

Miss Sally dropped the sock she was
knitting and stared in pained amaze-
ment. She knew nothing of his attempts
on the frog and at that moment believed
him as frog-crazy as her father.

"Dick," said she, regarding him with
pitying eyes, "you'd best git Abe to
'tend to pap, whilst you take a little
rest."

To this Dick readily agreed, but did
not know that Miss Sally looked upon
him with anxious but doubtful regard
after that night.

A month saw the meeting house fin-
ished and the long ditch well begun.
About this time, young Jordan Sweet-
water, from across the "Line," came to
teach the district school for the three
months' term, and, as he was also a
preacher "o' the Word," he gladly
offered his services to the Jump And
Run people. Within the month, he had
"exhorted" with such enthusiasm that
the entire female portion of the settle-
ment professed conversion, and this
prestiged a gathering in of the back-
ward brethren later on.

The day came when the purling waters
of Jump And Run were to be honored
with the first baptizing within its turbu-
lent history. The morning was bright
and warm. The gentle south wind lav-
ished its languid breath on the gathered
throng, harmonizing its soft whispers
with the drone of the busy bee.

Angus and Dick were there, seated on
a leaf-covered tussock near the reedy
marge, and all about reclined a goodly

number of the woodsmen, whittling sticks
and "swapping chaws," while they dis-
cussed the varied topics of woodland,
not forgetting to interject occasional sly
and humorous comments upon the char-
acteristics of the female portion of the
gathering.

"Look at Poll," whispered old Angus
to Dick, indicating, with a motion of his
head, a lady standing a little apart. "So
long as I kin remember, Poll's been
struck, with a notion what she calls
'fashion.' She was tellin' my old woman
t'other day as how she was a-going to
git baptized in her 'rainy-day' skirt, as
it was the 'proper thing fer damp occa-
sions.' An' I'm tellin' you right now,
Dick, if that's it she's got on, there's
mighty little o' it goin' to git wet."

The subject of the old moonshiner's
remarks was twice a widow, and her black
calico skirt reached just to the knee-cap.
From there on she was clad in striped
hose of bright and varigated hue. She
was one who for a number of years had
borne with great fortitude the sneers and
critical comment of a neighborhood that
knew little of fashion.

One by one they took the watery
plunge. Mrs. MacNorton was the last
to go down into the troubled waters, and
she went with every pound of her two
hundred weight nervously protesting but
withal a cheerful mein. Still she could
not help gasping and swaying in the
new and alarming sensation of cool,
rippling water immersing in its entirety
her portly person.

Slowly and cautiously the required
depth was reached and she stood breath-
ing hard and gently swaying to the
rhythm of the streamlet.

"I baptize thee, sister — " The Rever-
end Sweetwater got no further. Antici-
pating the plunge, the convert swayed
back too soon. Valiantly did the
preacher hold on, struggling mightily
with the tremendous odds against him,
but alas ! — there was a swirl, a sputter-
ing gasp; for a moment the parson's

614

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

broad soles floated peacefully on the
surface of the eddying stream and he
was gone.

For a brief moment only did the lim-
pid waters of the streamlet seethe and
churn. Mud and water-weed and a few
frightened sand-perch fluttered into view
and drifted idly away, then the Reverend
Sweetwater reappeared, still clinging to
the ample skirts of his sputtering charge,
who, on regaining a secure footing,
began waving her arms and shout-
ing:

"I saw the Lord! Oh, Angus, I saw
the Lord!"

Loth am I to chronicle the fact, but
her touching protestations were entirely
lost upon the old sinner, who, deep-dyed
in the sour mash of his illicit still, sat
unmoved on his leafy tussock, his soul
unmoved by the call of the Spirit. He
but winked a quizzical and mischievous
red eye at Dick and whispered: "The
old fool! She seed a eel."

Day by day the Reverend Sweetwater
labored with Angus; the other brethren
went down into the purifying water, but
Augus held out. He admitted that his
"feelin's was powerfully stirred," "but,"
said he, "I ain't quite reached the
p'int." And so the Reverend Sweet-
water continued to lay on, in a fine
spirit of optimism, that knew no dis-
couragements. He would convert the
old moonshiner and break up the still!
This was his one idea, and he gradually
worked himself into the esteem of Angus
to the point of being permitted to visit
the still at his pleasure, and there he
made himself useful in the work.

While the parson was busying his
hands in the service of the devil that he
might use his head in the service of the
Lord, Dick was pursuing his one idea of
the long ditch, for Angus still had an
inclination for the frog. Each night
found the two young men resting from
the labors of the day in the chimney
corners of the MacNorton cabin, where
their wishful glances played upon the

plump and pretty elder daughter of him
whom they would save.

It was the opinion of the settlement
that in this game of the chimney corners
the parson would win, and Dick felt that
this was so. He felt himself sadly
handicapped by the parson's superior
attainments and "store" clothes. That
the Reverend Sweetwater had thoroughly
ingratiated himself with the moonshiner
was beyond question, and, wonder of
wonders, Angus quit drinking moon-
shine. This was a phenomenon that
caused widespread comment and specu-
lation. Some claimed the victory for
the preacher. Coot MacColm suggested
that perhaps the old man's mental
trouble had gone "down'ards," and
reached his stomach, and that his end
was "nigh."

Twenty yards of earth separated Dick's
ditch from the channel of Jump And
Run creek, on the eve of the catas-
trophe that set at rest the question of
the cure and conversion of the moon-
shiner. Parson Sweetwater, in a philo-
sophical mood, sat on a stump near the
long ditch as Dick was preparing to quit
work for the day.

"When you have ditched the remain-
ing twenty yards, Mr. Jones," said he,
"the stagnant waters of Gumberry will
mingle with the pure, sweet waters of
Jump And Run, and the blatant notes
of the bullfrog will be lost to the settle-
ment forever, and — "

"An' Angus' 11 fergit his frog-dream,
parson."

"No. I cannot encourage you in that
idea, Mr. Jones. But you will have ac-
complished a great good— not merely to
Angus MacNorton, but to the entire
community; and I extend to you my
hearty congratulations — and thank you
in the name of the entire settlement."

"Parson," said Dick, after regarding
the Reverend Sweetwater a moment with
great amazement, "you has an oncom-
mon purty way o' sayin' things, an'
it goes with Sal — but as fer me, I'm

SALLY, DICK AND THE FROG

615

thinkin' as you are jest as rattled in
your upper parts as Angus be."

"Not at all, not at all, Mr. Jones. I
have long felt the necessity of combat-
ting an evil which, I confess, was be-
yond my ability to cope with; and yet,
sir, the effectiveness of the very simple
method you have adopted in your effort
to get at the frog is the one and only
cure for the evil of which I speak. I
refer to the pressing necessity of break-
ing the continued epidemics of malaria
which inflict our otherwise delightful
community. When the frog pond has
been drained the source of the trouble
will have been removed. Really, Mr.
Jones, you will have accomplished some-
thing worth while."

"You may be karect in your jedgment,
parson; but ol' Doc Simon Seeds says
it's jest nat'ral fer we folk to have ager;
says most o' us has been edicted to it
sence we was born."

It was several hours later when Coot
MacColm dropped in at the MacNorton
cabin to borrow a "leetle campfire, fer
skeeter bites."

"Where's Angus?" inquired he, not-
ing the old man's unusual absence.

"That's jest it! brother MacColm,"
replied Mrs. MacNorton. "I been tell-
in' Sal, this hour gone, as somethin'
must be wrong; but Sal, she says it's
alright 'cause Parson Sweetwater went
to fetch him."

"Sal's jedgment might be karect, an'
then ag'in it mightn't. I'm guessin',
sister, as how somethin' s tuck place to
keep Angus so late. Fer when I was
a-callin' shoats this evenin' the king was
blatin' oncommon loud, an' afore I quits
callin' he stops an' doesn't start up ag'in
till 'bout half-hour ago, an' I said to
myself as how somethin' had disturbed
the king. Now it might 'a' been
Angus!"

Old Coot's grewsome suggestion took
immediate effect. Mrs. MacNorton
seized a brand from the hearth, and,
requesting Coot to "blow" the conch

for help, started for Gumberry as hur-
riedly as her avoirdupois would permit.
The wailing of Coot's conch drew a
goodly portion of the settlement in their
wake, and soon they were all gathered
about the margin of the frog pond, gaz-
ing with awe and horror into its murky
depths. All was quiet, save where a
moccasin ripped the slimy surface or
where a terrapin plunged from mossy
log.

"There's no tellin' where Angus le'pt
in," said Coot, "an' jest how we are
goin' to git at 'im is beyant me!"

The old man crept cautiously out on
a long log that reached well into the
pond, where he stood solemnly peering
and directing in hushed tones the dispo-
sition of the torches along the shore.
After a long survey he shook his head
and turned to retrace his > steps. Sud-
denly he emitted a hoarse shriek. There
was a loud plash and he disappeared
from the view of his friends.

"Cootie! Cootie! Oh, my Cootie's
drownded!" shrieked Mrs. MacColm.

"Shet up, Sis!" commanded the lady's
brother. "Lessen his whiskers ketches
on a snag, he'll pop up nigh the log.
Coot' 11 never 'low 'nough water in his
in'ards to drownd him!"

Presently the old man crawled upon
the log, and sat gloomily regarding his
hat, which rested just beyond his reach.

"I sets lots o' store by that hat,"
said he, and a reminiscent expression
crept over his countenance, as he gazed
at the old Civil War relic that had shel-
tered his brow for many years. "The
day the Yanks shot it off my head at
Fisher, Kunnel Bill Lam said to me:
'Coot,' says he —

"What's the matter with the hat?"
someone shouted.

The hat was now speeding across the
pond, and gaining in rapidity as it went,
soon passing beyond the gleam of the
torches.

"Well if that don't beat the devill"

"You're bewitched, Coot."

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE toi MARCH, 1906

"Don't come nigh mel"

"Throw in your boot an' see if it'll
follow!

" Where' d you git that hat?"

"Let's run 'round to'ther side an' see
it walk out."

They all hastened to follow this last
suggestion, and old Coot led by several
yards, while his wife followed as best
she could, shrieking at every step:
"Cootie! Cootie! Be keerful, Cootie!"

Again there was a loud plash, and for
a second time Coot disappeared from
the view of his followers.

"Help! Help! It's runnin' away with
m-e-e — h-e-l-p!"

Coot's cry rang out in muffled and
fading tones.

"Well I be gosh-danged!" bawled Bill
Benton, who had spurted ahead with the
only torch now burning.

"Oh, Cootie! Cootie! Where's my
Cootie?" wailed MacColm's distressed
wife.

"He's rushin' on'ards to the deep
sea, Sis," said Bill, and added by way
of consolation, "Coot always did want
to go to sea, an' now he's gone."

At this touching suggestion, Mrs.
MacColm sank unconscious on the cool,
soft loam of the ditch bank.

The waters of Gumberry were speed-
ing rapidly down Dick's long ditch, and
somewhere along its course Coot was
fleeting seaward.

The attention of all was now directed
to the restoration of Mrs. MacColm.
While they were thus engaged, Dick
came up the ditch bank supporting the
half-drowned Coot on one arm, while
with the other he swung in triumph the
giant bull of Gumberry.

"Caught 'em both in my net," said
he. "Him an Coot come swishin' along
'bout the same time. I was tolubly
s'prised to mesh Coot. How'd he git
in?"

"He was followin' o' his hat," said
Bill.

"Well, he must 'a' butted into it on
the way; it was on his head when I
dragged him out."

"I hopes to be laid away in it," said
the old man. "That day when the
Yanks shot it off, Kunnel Bill Lam said
to me: 'Coot,' said he — "

"Cootie! Cootie!" shrieked Mrs.
MacColm, reviving and throwing her-
self on her husband's neck, thus break-
ing for a second time the thread of the
veteran's story.

In a body they repaired to the pond,
now drained to its dregs. Many oozy,
creeping things they found, but Angus
and the parson had not been there.

Miss Sally sank on Dick's breast,
weeping quietly and gently murmuring:

"Thank the Lord! I know Parson
Sweetwater is taking care o' pap, where-
ever he be. ' '

The mention of the parson was the
only bitterness of the situation to Dick.

It was thus when a newcomer appeared
on the scene — Abe Ward.

"Lookin* fer Angus?" he inquired.

"Yes, where you been, Abe?"

"To the still."

"Seen anything o' 'em?"

"No."

"Where you 'spose they be?"
"Revenooers got 'em. The still's all
busted, an' I picks this from a huckle-
berry bush," said he, passing a note to
Dick.

Dick smoothed out the crumpled note
and read :

"Dear Miss Sally: I was assisting
your father with the work at the still,
preparatory to our home-coming, when
we were surprised by revenue officers.
I will of necessity be with your father
during his absence, and shall regard our
incarceration as a direct providence from
the Lord. I hope and believe that I will
return him to you a converted man — "

The -

Spanish'S peaking World
'}v Today lff^™;5!

By Hubert M. Skinner

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

IT is time for us as a people to
recast our opinions of the Spanish-
speaking world, since these are mostly
traditional and— as far as they were ever
correct — have not taken sufficiently into
account the significance of the trend of
the past few decades.

For more than three centuries the
men of English speech have been at
odds with the men employing the lan-
guage of Spain. In the "mother coun-
try," England, Henry the Seventh com-
peted with Ferdinand and Isabella in
the exploration of the coast of the newly
discovered western world. His grand-
daughter Elizabeth, shocked at the
cruelty of the Spanish conquest and
enslavement of Mexico and Peru, did
not hesitate to seize the treasure ships
on which the ill-gotten gold of these
dominions was loaded for transportation
to "the Peninsula." It was Protestant
and Catholic at war in those days.
The English aided the Netherlands in
their war for independence of Spanish
control. England and the Netherlands
led in the opposition to the cause which
was dearest of all to the Spanish heart
in the days of warring creeds.

In the New World the Spaniard has
been our competitor and adversary from
the earliest Colonial days to a time
within the memory of schoolboys.
Florida, Texas and Cuba have been
successive subjects of contention. The
enmities of our ancestors were perpetual,
while the causes changed from religious

and personal to territorial and political.
From the time oi the Armada (1588)
hatred has been mingled with contempt
for the Spanish. Shakespeare expressed
this feeling in a single line when he
spoke of the man —

"From tawny Spain, lost in the world's
debate."

The contemptuous epithet "tawny" had
reference primarily, it would seem, to the
yellow of the Spanish flag; but it con-
tained, also, perhaps a suggestion of the
faded tints of Autumn, the season of the
dying year. The "world's debate" sig-
nified not so much the war of words as
the argument of cannon, like the recent
"debate" in the Corean straits, between
Togo and Rojestvensky. In such a
contest, Spain was deemed already
"lost" in Shakespeare's day.

Antipodes alike in theories of govern-
ment and of religion, in social life and
in the development of their literatures,
the English-speaking world and the
Spanish-speaking world have never
understood each other. We have held
the Spanish to be given over to be-
sotted bigotry and tyranny. With the
exception of their immortal "Don Quix-
ote," we have known nothing of their
literature, nor have we bothered our-
selves to inquire if they possessed any.
In the Americas the principle of politi-
cal union triumphed in the North and
of disunion in the South. There was
stability on the one hand and anarchy

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NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

on the other. The puny, half-barbarous
Spanish republics, like their mother
land, have seemed "lost in the world's
debate."

We have seemed to see the decadence
of Spain reflected in her former world-
possessions. We have deemed it but
a matter of time when the "Saxon"
should spread over the vast regions
where the Spanish flag once floated and
the Spanish element should be absorbed
in the stronger life current of northern
blood.

We have reasoned but superficially.
While noting the misdeeds of the gov-
ernment of old Spain, we might have
inquired what were the sentiments of
the Spanish people as reflected in the
utterances of their representative authors.
While counting, with amused contempt,
thirty revolutions in Mexico within the
space of twenty-eight years, we might
have questioned with ourselves if this
state of affairs was really to continue.
While assuming that the Spanish ele-
ment in America and the Philippines is
destined to be absorbed by stronger race
elements, we might have asked if this
Spanish element is of a nature to be
absorbed, or if, on the other hand, it is
the most persistent and tenacious of all
race elements. While ignoring Spanish
literature, as a subject scarcely worthy
of idle inquiry, we might have learned
somthing about its rank in merit and its
presumable influence upon the world of
the future. Instead of assuming that the
Spanish-speaking world is really deca-
dent, we should have questioned if it
were not really in a stage of transition,
with vast possibilities for the future.

The events of the past seven years
have opened the way to a better under-
standing of the actual status. And these
are some of the facts which we are
beginning to learn:

i. — The Spanish -speaking world is
much larger than the French-speaking,
and nearly as large as the German-
speaking. There are perhaps fifty mil-

lions of people in all who make use of
the French language, and seventy mill-
ions, all told, who speak German in
some of its forms. There are probably
sixty-five millions or more who speak
Spanish; and if we include with them
those who use the closely related Portu-
guese, the number will be about eighty-
five millions.

2. — The Spanish-speaking world is
growing steadily in numbers. Its de-
structive wars have ceased. The love of
children is characteristic of Spanish-
American lands. In these times of
peace and in this western world of
boundless resources, there will be a vast
increase in the population with every
succeeding generation. The birth rate
of the French is today but a fraction of
one per cent, above the death rate. The
population of France is already station-
ary, and will soon decline actually, as it
has long been declining relatively among
the populations of the world. The Ger-
mans are a fecund people, but Germany
is already crowded and its surplus popu-
lation goes to foreign lands, to blend
with their people as a drop of water
melts into the sea. The Italians are in-
creasing, but are wholly out of consider-
aiton as compared with the peoples of
Spanish origin.

3 — The Spanish-speaking peoples are
growing prodigiously in wealth. Thirty
years of peace in Mexico have wrought
miracles of development, and the work
is yet in its infancy. A great mart of
more than a million people has grown
up at Buenos Ayres, in the Argentine —
a city more than twice the size of Rome
or of Madrid ; a city of great warehouses,
elevators, factories and wharves; a city
of splendid boulevards and elegant man-
sions; a city rich in works of art and in
luxurious adornment. Chile has always
been progressive and thrifty. Is there
a nation in all South America that is
not advancing in material wealth? The
"Pearl of the Antilles," Cuba, is be-
lieved to have entered upon a career of

THE SPANISH-SPEAKING WORLD TODAY

619

CERVANTES

"With the exception of their immortal Don stjiixeti we have
known nothing of their literature, nor have we bothered ourselves to
inquire if they [the Spanish-speaking peoples] possessed any."

affluence. The Philippines, likewise,
have come to a turning point, whence,
freed from the burdens which have borne
so heavily upon them in the past, they
will achieve the objects of no ordinary
ambition.

4. — The Spanish literature far sur-
passes the French, the German, the
Italian. It is second only to the Eng-
lish in the literatures of the world. Cal-
deron is the only dramatist to be com-
pared with Shakespeare. The classic
drama of the Spanish is much greater
in volume than the English. In its
variety and in the splendor of its dic-
tion, it is a matter of amazement to
every American who investigates it. In

the realm of humor, practical philosophy,
graceful lyric and sonorous declamation,
the Spanish writers have scarcely any
equals in the world.

It is an error to suppose that Spanish
literature consists simply in the finished
work of a by-gone age. New forms of
literature are apt to have their origin in
Spain. Larra was the precursor of
Washington Irving and George William
Curtis. The opera practically began in
Spain. The newspaper "paragraph,"
the modern "short story" and the
"funny column" are all of Spanish
origin or suggestion. Spanish literature
is full of the noblest sentiment, of prac-
tical wisdom relating to all the affairs

620

NATIONAL MAGAZINE tor MARCH, 1906

of life. The standard dramas abound in-
sentiments which might have been
uttered by Washington or by Gladstone.
Spanish authorship is not confined to
Spain. All Spanish America teems with
authors of prose and verse of no small
degree of merit.

The splendid fabric of Spanish classi-
cal literature is well worth preserving.
With the future growth of Spanish-
American nations in wealth and culture,
it will be popularized as never before.
More and more will it become the pos-
session of the populace, with the multi-
plication of cheap and accessible read-
ing. Of the real merits of Spanish liter-
ature we have been in no position to
judge. The summaries contained in our
cyclopedias, and the specimen "transla-
tions" found in "collections" of the
world's literature are apt to be farcical.
Even the books of the late Butler Clark
of Oxford and John Owen of London
betray an utter want of sympathy or of
knowledge of the subject on the part ot
the writers.

5.— As to the elimination or absorp-
tion of the Spanish race element by the
assimilation of the "Saxon," this is out
of the question. There is no race ele-
ment so persistent, so ineradicable.
Facial feature, temperament, inherited
tendencies of the Spanish persist in the
offspring of Spaniards by French, In-
dian, Aztec, Peruvian, German or
American mothers — persist through long
generations of utter isolation or of close
contact with other elements; persist in
the cool North or in the torrid South;
persist in the mountain lands, in the
vast forests, upon the grassy plains; per-
sist amid the most varied scenes of city
and country life, of active labor or of
luxurious ease. This is the testimony —
willing or reluctant — of all intelligent
observers.

It is not meant that the persistent
Spanish inheritance is unmodified by
the mingled blood of other races. The
hundreds of thousands of Germans and

Italians who have been pouring into
South America in the stream of west-
ward emigration from Europe will have
their influence in Spanish America as
the like accessions have with us. But
they will become absorbed. The cooler
blood of the northern peoples gives only
a steadier direction, a greater force, to
the Spanish impulses of their mixed de-
scendants.

As to what really constitutes the Span-
ish type, we have been much in error.
The "grave, taciturn, and distant Span-
iard," of whom we have studied for gen-
erations in our school geographies, is a
myth. Quick, witty, alert, responsive,
merry, volatile, the Spaniard is the very
opposite of the imaginary character of
our text-books.

The West Indian pirate of our old
dime "novels" (written in New York
garrets) and the slaver of our ante-bellum
days do not represent him. The former
never existed in life, and the latter was
exceptional. It should be remembered,
moreover, that Spain is much diversified
in its population; that the idler in tat-
tered silk and velvet, who sings his ser-
enades in Andalusian moonlit groves is
very different from the thrifty, methodi-
cal, theorizing, inventive, Yankee -like
Spaniard of Barcelona. It is claimed,
in explanation of the thrift and order of
Chile and the Argentine, that the people
of northern Spain gave principal direc-
tion to the development of these com-
monwealths. Yet with all their differ-
ences, the several varieties of population
in old Spain are all Spanish in a way;
they have much in common.

6. — There has been a marked change
in the general public sentiment regard-
ing the Philippines. It was supposed
that they would prove remunerative com-
mercially as a colonial possession ; that
the memory of centuries of misgovern-
ment would lead them to prefer Ameri-
can life and thought to Spanish. Of the
five millions who speak Spanish in the
islands, but a small part, it was said, are

THE SPANISH-SPEAKING WORLD TODAY

621

KING ALFONSO XIII OF SPAIN

Sketch made from a late photograph for "The Review of Review*"

Spanish. No genuine love of Spanish
literature, no strong pride in Spanish
history and achievement, it was claimed,
exists among the populace. The recent
magnificent celebration at Manila of the
tercentenary of "Don Quixote" — a
celebration so unanimous and enthusi-
astic, so elaborate and elegant, so strik-
ing in every respect, that it would have
done credit to Madrid — is an emphatic
answer to one who questions the exist-
ence of a strong and enduring pride in
the Spanish language and letters on the
part of the people of Luzon. Few
Americans now expect or desire a per-

petual prolongation of the present poli-
ical status in the Philippines, or look for
a future "assimilation" in language and
in blood.

In conclusion, let us consider for a
moment the present outlook for the cen-
tury upon which we have entered. From
Santa Fe northward to the Arctic Circle
extends the English-speaking world of
America, in an unbroken line. From
Santa Fe, or at least from El Paso,
southward, extends the Spanish-speaking
world to Cape Horn, through ninety
degrees of latitude, in an unbroken line.
While Spain cuts but a small figure in

622

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

Europe, as compared with Germany or
with France, or even with Italy, there
can be no German nation, no French
nation, no Italian nation in this western
world. The English language, already
spoken by more than one hundred and
thirty millions of people in all the world,
is expanding by leaps and bounds. The
Spanish language is expanding far more
rapidly than any other continental lan-
guage of western Europe. The Pacific
is to be the theater of great activities in
this new century. South America, Cen-
tral America, Mexico, the Antilles and the
Philippines will participate in the affairs
of the great world. The "Saxon" and
the "Spaniard" of the future will have
more and more interests in common;
will, to an ever increasing degree, take
account of each other ; will learn to work
together for their common interests.

The first duty of each is to recast his
inherited opinions of the other; to esti-
mate the other at his true value. Cul-
tured Spaniards everywhere are includ-
ing a knowledge of English among the
essentials of their education. The new

demands of the diplomatic world and of
the commercial world alike render it
desirable for ambitious young Ameri-
cans to acquire an accurate and ready
knowledge of the Castilian tongue. Al-
ready our great commercial houses are
learning why we have failed to secure
our share of the South American trade.
Our inherited beliefs and prejudices,
belonging to a bygone era, have pre-
vented us from grasping the situation —
from understanding the peoples with
whom we would deal commercially, and
with whom we must have much inter-
course in all the future.

We love to think that the blending of
Saxon and Norman in English history
was the greatest of all historical events
in its ultimate results for the world; that
each of these race elements supplemented
the other in the precise manner and pro-
portion required to achieve the highest
civilization of the world. What may not
the proximity, the cooperation, and, in
a measure, the mingling, of "Saxon"
and "Spaniard" accomplish in the new
era upon which we have entered?

THE PRACTICAL SAILOR MAN
By H. C. Gauss

WASHINGTON, DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA

I MET him on the shingle beach and thus his story ran:
"You see in me a plain, old, hairy-chested sailor man,
Who knows no tricks of sailing yachts or entertaining kings,
Of working the Department or designing ordnance things.
My simple end and aim in life's to clean my gallant ship
And keep the fresh enlisted man from passing too much lip.
To paint and polish, scrape and paint is the job for which I live,
So you come to me when you wish to see a crack executive.
Let others take the Coburg jobs and sail around at ease,
My simple, hairy-chested place is on the bounding seas.
But when there's fighting going on, there'll be none called louder than
The simple, as beforehand mentioned, practical sailor man."

TOGO AT CLOSE RANGE

YONE NOGUCHI, THE JAPANESE POET, DE-
SCRIBES HIS SIMPLE HOME LIFE AND TELLS
HOW HE STANDS, ALMOST ALONE, FOR THE
FINEST OF THE OLD IDEALS OF JAPAN

By Yone Noguchi

Author of "Japan of Sword and Love," "From the Eastern Sea," etc.

TOKYO, JAPAN

SOME time ago Nature revived in the
gold of Autumn splendor — and there
is no Autumn like Japan's. And in that
Autumn we held a grand reception for
the British navy men who immediately
rushed into Tokyo like a tidal wave,
singing "Banazi for the Ally." (They
are jolly, jolly mortals.) Certainly there
is neither East nor West, Dark nor
White, when two strong men come to-
gether face to face. There was only the
clink of cups together and a shout of
glee for Japan and England. All the
students of some higher schools who
could converse freely in English volun-
teered as guides or interpreters for the
British sailors. One of my friends was
among them. He told me the following
story: He was passing by Admiral
Togo's house (Kami Rokuban Cho,
Kojimachi) in the morning. He had
nowhere in particular in mind to go,
but simply wanted to speak a word or
two in English to the British fighter, or
even to touch his uniform. "There!"
he exclaimed, seeing a young officer who
was thrown in some trouble, doubtless.
He was standing near the admiral's
house, a show of all the stupidity of an
Englishman. And wildly he twirled his

pretense of whiskers while he told his
story to my friend. "The fact is, my
dear fellow, I engaged a rikishaw man
to take me to Admiral Togo's mansion —
his great mansion. The runner put me
out here and jabbered, 'Here Togo-san
house.' I was disgusted at the situa-
tion, for I was plainly hoodwinked.
Such a little cottage cawn't be the
admiral's residence, to be sure. The
fellow insisted, saying, 'Yes, yes, Togo-
san here. He is great but poor.'
The idea of the greatest naval hero in
the world living in such a wretched cot-
tage! How could I believe it? I gave
him a little jolly kick in a fit of passion
and he ran away. And here I stand
dumbfounded, like a fool." My friend
told him, upon his oath, it was the ad-
miral's house. And he told him further
that the admiral was a great man of sim-
plicity, like Cincinnatus of the Roman
republic, or George Washington (he was
a bit proud of his knowledge of history)
who would disdain any sort of showy and
expensive style. "My dear sirl" the
officer exclaimed, and apologized for his
commonplace way of measuring things
by his English standard. His eyes
beamed brighter in better appreciation

624

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

of the admiral's real greatness and in
immediate increase of his English hero-
worship. "Here is the true secret of
Japan's stupendous success. Simplicity
in life and thought, and sacrifice for the
country," he said.

In His Home

My friend took him into the house to
see the admiral's lady, on his suggestion
of wishing to leave his card with the
family. Most politely they were ad-
mitted. The young man who opened the
sliding door was the admiral's second
son, to their wonder, Mr. Minoru by
name. (The servant girl must have been
busy dusting or sweeping somewhere.)
"This is truly a red letter day in my
life," the officer exclaimed. He was
surprised on seeing the extreme simplic-
ity of the interior. There was nothing
to decorate the room to speak of except
a few yellow chrysanthemums on the
tokanoma. (We Japanese appreciate the
simplicity and sublimity of space, leav-
ing nothing scattered around whatever.)
The mat was whiteness itself; Madam
Togo must have changed it to welcome
the admiral's triumphal return. Every
bit of the house was the symbol of sim-
plicity. In simplicity lies strength and
devotion. The devotion in this case
was devotion to the country and the
mikado. The pale, white, simple atmos-
phere in the house was like that in the
Shinto temple. Yes, the admiral's house
is nothing but the sacred house where
Admiral Togo and his family burn in-
cense to the one hundred and eight gods
of the empire. ("The rise or fall of the
empire depends upon the result of this
engagement: do your utmost, every one
of you") is Togo's famous signal, which
will rank with Nelson's Trafalgar mes-
sage. He lives with the gods and the
emperor, and before them he is nothing.
And the British officer's surprise was
still greater, my friend told me, on see-
ing Madam Togo. She was so simple
in heart and speech. Surely she is the

admiral's "better half" and the reflec-
tion of her husband— the greatest hero
of the world. She was courteous and
sweet. In her courtesy and sweetness
hide a great heart and strength. Ad-
miral Togo's family is whiteness and
wonder.

You would never take it for the resi-
dence of any high-standing personage
when you pass by. It is a plain cottage,
such as you could surely hire for twenty
or thirty yen. Can you believe that the
greatest hero in the world's history
should live in a house worth ten or fifteen
dollars a month? The house (of seven
or eight rooms) has a large garden at-
tached, but this is not a distinction,
since every Japanese house is adorned
with some garden or yard where a cherry
tree blooms and a nightingale may call
in the Spring. But there in his house
he finds the sweetest nest with his two
sons, the elder one called Takeshi,
twenty-one years old, and with his little
daughter of fifteen Summers. Only in
the home do his content and joy spread
their wings fully, and his face — the
brown face terribly beaten by the sun
and hurricane — is ever turning toward
it. Outside of the home his soul and
body are not his own possession, but the
country's, that is to say, the mikado's.
His great success (which he is so shy to
admit) is not his own, but the country's,
that is to say, the emperor's. His vic-
tory, he declared, was due to the illustri-
ous virtues of his majesty and to the
unseen protection of the spirits of our
imperial ancestors. As in his official
report: the battles were won by the
grace of heaven and the help of the
gods; and he was nobody, as he often
professed. He was so hasty to return
his glory and success to the emperor on
returning home! (It was only a plain
home-coming to him, but all Japan called
it the triumphal entry.) And again he
stepped into his home as a simple Togo,
and there his beloved dogs, who had
missed their master for some time,

TOGO AT CLOSE RANGE

625

wagged their tails with joy, and looked
on his face suspiciously when they ob-
served that his hair was speedily turning
gray. It is said that worry and grief
make the hair gray, and he has had
enough of them. He appeared to be a
righting god before the world, — yes, he
is a god, but a god of simplicity and
peace. There could be nothing more
unreasonable than for him to bear such
a nickname as "Demon Heihachiro."
(By the way, Heihachiro is his own
name.) He is the symbol of modesty —
to his finger-tips.

11 [Modesty " His Keynote
"Modesty, modesty," he will say to
his sons if they ask him the secret of
success. He never claimed victory and
success for his own, but worked as hard
as possible. All the sailors call him
"Dear Dad" behind him, with the great-
est show of affection and respect, and
none of them would hesitate to sacrifice
themselves for his own sake. And so
there was the sea-victory — greatest in
the world's history. One of my friends,
who is an officer under him, told me
the following story: Once, upon the
deck, the admiral and his sailors were
asked to sit before a photographer. The
terribly bright sunlight fell on his face
and he could hardly open his eyes; and
there behind him a thousand sailors
stood, and they were only glad to be
commanded to do anything for him, but
he arose and carried a ladder himself,
stepped on it and began to pull down
the awning. "My admiral 1" all the
sailors exclaimed. He said afterward
that it was a private affair, and he could
never ask anybody to do anything for
himself. "That is what sort of man is
great Togo-san," my friend said. I was
glad to hear it, since it tells about him
more than a book of his biography.
Yes, he must be such a man.
It was last December when he re-
turned to Tokyo for the first time since
the commencement of the war. I shook

hands with him at the Shinbashi station.
To my eyes he appeared to be a cold
stone Buddha idol — expressionless and
hopelessly tired. He was such a strange
contrast with the outside spectacle where
huge crowds were shouting for his glory
and the national banner flung gaily.
(We were then entering the glad mo-
ments of welcoming a happy New Year's
Day too.) His soul — a great soul,
doubtless — must have been occupied
then with the future plan for meeting
the Baltic squadron.

It was whispered that some public
school boys, jolly and excitable as
always, on that day were determined
to unharness his carriage horses and
draw the carriage up to the gate of the
Imperial Palace. "Dad Togo" got wind
of them and he was foxy, as someone
said. He sent his chief-of-staff in his
carriage, while he walked comfortably
toward Nijubashi, the imperial gate
bridge, with his dear little daughter's
hand in his. Isn't this a delicious story?
So he played the same old trick after-
ward again upon the poor, unsuspecting
Russian sailors at Tsugaru Strait. His
actions in this war were full of wonder
and mystery. He gave a surprise at
every turn.

At A Deception

Today — November 5, 1905, — I have
another fortune to see Admiral Togo
face to face, here in the lovely garden
of the late Mr. Fukuzawa, the Mita sage
as he was called, where the alma mater
garden party of the Keiogijiku university
is held. The university was founded by
Mr. Fukuzawa, and I am also from that
school. Admiral Togo, Admiral Kami-
mura and other heroes, with their
madams and daughters, made a great
honor with their presence. Admiral
Togo's face beamed happily, without
such a stoical paleness as the last time.
(His heart must be lightened after such
a successful disburdening of his great
work.) He was slightly tired, but his

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

, young man, you must be brave like your father."

TOGO AT CLOSE RANGE

627

tired face was not one unbearable to look
at, since his only worry today was to
think how to escape from the falling in-
vitations. He must have been tired with
the shower of champagne and with the
thunder of banzai, and we were happy
to see his calm appreciation of our out-
door undertaking. He chatted freely
among the chrysanthemums, under the
old pine trees, by a stone stationary
lamp, and now and then he stopped at
an eating stand to pick up a little bite.
If not under the uniform, he wouldn't
appear any more impressive than a com-
mon gentleman with comfortable money
and happy children. How could you
imagine such a meek man would achieve
such an historical wonder and be re-
garded as the greatest hero?

It was the wisdom of the president of
the university to make a hundred boys
from the grammar school department
participate in the pleasure of the occa-
sion. There's nothing like the school-
boys to demonstrate a striking sentiment
of hero-worship. The president formally
introduced the boys to the admirals.
There among the boys were three or
four who had lost their fathers in the
war, and the father of one of them be-
longed to the navy, a certain captain he
was. "Admiral Togo, do you remember
Fukai, (it was the name, if I am not
mistaken) who bravely died at the Port
Arthur blockade? He was the very
father of that boy," Admiral Kamimura
said to Togo, picking up a little boy,
eleven or thirteen in age. The boy, in
a fit of passion on hearing his father's
name, began to cry. The scene became
tragic at once. Admiral Togo ap-
proached him and in fatherly fashion
tapped his little head, and said with
a sweet voice, "Now young man, wipe
your tears like a man! and you must be
brave like your father. ' ' The boy stood
up and said: "Of course I will!" I
could not dare to look up at the admiral,
and I was sure his eyes must have been
filled with tears.

The Price of Fame
The other night I was reading Kip-
ling's poems and came across a stanza:

"We have fed our sea for a thousand years

And she calls us, still unfed,
Though there's never a wave of all her waves

But marks our English dead :
We have strewed our best to the weed's un-
rest

To the shark and the sheering gull.
If blood be the price of Admiralty,

Lord God, we ha' paid in full ! "

Yes, not only that boy's father. Other
thousands of children lost their fathers.
And we paid enough of blood for the
name of the Japanese navy. Most cer-
tainly Admiral Togo must be uneasy in
thinking that the other brave fellows are
dead, whose names will be told now and
then but quickly forgotten, and he alone
has come back alive carrying a mighty
crop of glory. "Banzai for Togo! honor
for the Admiral!" will echo to his sensi-
tive ears and heart not without some
tragic thrill. It may be too cynical to
say that ten thousand fighters died to
make a great name for Togo or Marquis
Oyama. But I understand perfectly why
Admiral Togo is so hasty in returning
his glory to the emperor and the gods,
and in slipping back into his own place
as a simple, quiet gentleman. And in
this I see a still greater hero in the
admiral.

One generation does not make a man
like Togo. And also one generation
does not make the fellows who went into
the terrible gulf of death in Manchuria
and on the eastern seas. The Japanese
culture and atmosphere made them thus.
I pray to God that they will remain so,
as they are. Already there's a whisper
of degeneration and sophistication in
Japan of today. Togo is the best model
of the Satsuma province, whence Mar-
quis Oyama, Admiral Kamimura and
others hailed out. There in that pro-
vince plain living and high thinking,
and, above all, devotion to the ceuntry
and emperor almost reach to a religion.

628

NATIONAL MAGA/JNK foi MARCH, 1906

I declare Admiral Togo to be the only
one man wholly sane and true in this
already sophisticated and drunken world.
Yes, he is the one sober and simple
gentleman in Japan, whose head is turn-
ing toward degeneration. And sad in
his heart, too, like any other great man
in history. I have read somewhere in
John Vance Cheney's book:

"He of great deeds does grope amid the

throng
Like him whose steps toward Dragon's

temple bore :
There's ever something sad about the

strong —

A look, a moan, like that on Ocean's
shore. "

So is Admiral Togol

IN MEMORY

By George DuBois

OAXACA, MEXICO

ON formal occasions, she appeared to
the observer a grande dame; in pri-
vate the impresson that one received of
her was of gentleness, which was her real,
predominant trait.

Her residence, situated on the corner
of intersecting streets, was sumptuous,
and from the window forming the angle
one perceived an avenue planted to trees
of massive foliage, that made it appear
like the entrance to a forest, along which
a multitude of pedestrians and carriages
passed constantly.

There that prematurely aged dame sat
during the greater portion of the day,
reading, sewing, crocheting, in silence
passing her existence. And yet, despite
that apparent calm, one only had to gaze
upon her face to perceive in that visage,
blanched and ravaged by care, the un-
deniable traces of a beauty rare, the
marks of sorrow that had faded ere its
time, and to reflect: "She is a mother 1"
And one needed only to encounter the
regard of her melancholy eyes to add:
"A mother who has lost her babe!"

Not that she complained; she rarely
referred to her sorrow, and when she did,
to privileged ones, most discreetly.

Humanity in general loves joy and is
repelled by complaints, but refuses not
to enter the presence of silent resigna-
tion. They entered there, some former
companions, some juvenile spirits,
charmed by her gentle, indulgent man-
ners; even people of the world, attracted
by the renown and social status of her
ancient family.

One glorious day in June, the popula-
tion entire of the city sallied to prom-
enade. The sun illumined the place like
a benediction. Gay ripples of laughter
were wafted to her window; the innumer-
able umbrellas in the avenue below re-
sembled a river of dancing colors,
formed of irridescent waves of sik.

The solitude of the grand salon ap-
peared more profound than usual. Not
a soul had arrived to pay her a visit.

She raised a photograph of a young
girl, framed in black, from a table ever
placed near, and reflected :

IN MEMORY

629

"It does not resemble her; photo-
graphs deceive us; lenses see not as we
see. Where is that grace, that gentle
regard? Where is the delicate oval of
her face that seemed divine to me? All
is disfigured, unnatural. The image that
I guard of her in my heart is so different.
Oh! how I wish I possessed a portrait
that would reflect to me the souvenir that
I retain in my soul! But who can por-
tray it now? None!"

By force of application to her spirit to
that interior contemplation, the mother
came to experience so exactly, so vividly
the presence in her of the cherished
image, that she seized a long unused
case of pastels and a sheet of blank
paper and attempted to fix upon it the
intense vision of her love.

Her attainments in designing were
rudimentary. That troubled her not.
She commenced with the feverish desire
that had seized her, scarcely consulting
the poor portrait, now repulsed and
placed at a distance upon a table.

She designed first the hair in the vir-
ginal style that the girl had once worn it.
It evolved marvelously under the caress-
ing touch of the hand that had so often
arranged it; then appeared the lines of
the visage, the long, tender lips, pale
rose, where the smile of a juvenile soul
had endured, even after the departure of
the spirit; then the eyes, o'er which the
lids assumed without apparent effort
their natural curve, a trifle lifted at the
corners, shaded by brown lashes, be-
tween,which the charming soul was about
to reflect and live.

The mother, inclining over the table,
appeared unconscious of the miracle of
tenderness that she was accomplishing
at that moment; she experienced the an-
guish of one who observes an image semi-
traced, that haste to finish ere the model
is effaced in the lassitude and fatigue
naturally resultant from unaccustomed
effort. She desired to trace, with the
crayon that had run so lightly until then,
the iris of the eyes, to impart a living re-

gard. But here she was obliged to reflect,
and the conviction suddenly seized her
with terrible power, that she could no
longer recollect the color of those dear
eyes, that she had never, perhaps, really
noted it.

She halted. Tears blinded her.

"Oh !" she exclaimed, "how can it be?
How can a mother fail to remember the
color of the eyes that she still sees every-
where, at every turn, at every minute of
the day and of the night?"

Rarely had she suffered so cruelly. It
seemed to her that it was a proof of
oblivion, the commencement of that
fatal disappearance of mental souvenirs,
that causes the most sacred, the most
frequently evoked scenes to discolor, to
alter, to tremble in the balance, as if
transparent vapors enveloped the dis-
tances covered by the soul.

At that moment the door at the end of
the salon opened. She rapidly concealed
the pastel portrait among the pages' of a
portfolio, then arose, endeavoring to re-
gain the region of real life from which
for the space of several hours she had
been absent. The man who entered was
young, one whom she no longer counted
among her ordinary relations. She had
seen him only once after her great sor-
row. With an effort like one arousing
from a dream, she smiled and said in re-
ply to his very courteous salutation :

"It is very amiable in you, my dear
sir, to remember an old lady, who no
longer appears in the world, whose name
can only recall age to the generation to
which you belong. I presume I shall
have the honor to render you some
service."

"No, madame, I seek not your influ-
ence. I have come to see you, for your-
self alone."

"Really? Then I am doubly pleased."

"In passing, madame, I have obeyed
a strange force, to enter, to converse
with you. If I have not done so ere
now, it is due to the fact that I have been
absent, on a long pilgrimage."

630

NATIONAL MAGAZINE lor MARCH, 1906

She regarded her visitor attentively,
and observed that through the blonde
beard, on the flexible lips, and in the
blue eyes stirred a strange emotion.
She abandoned her forced gaiety for a
very grave tone, voicing an idea unex-
pressed :

"You saw her here several times?"

"Six. The last time was the ball, on
a Thursday, the twenty-second of April;
she appeared more divinely beautiful
than ever that night, attired as Mar-
guerite."

"I have sacredly guarded her cos-
tume," replied the other with a gesture
of profound emotion; "and you remem-
ber?"

"Remember? Is it possible ever to
forget? In all the globe I doubt that it
would be possible to find beauty more
fresh, transparent, divine than hers.
Btrt I would not recall a pain — "

"Ott the contrary, my dear, speak!"

"I know not why, but when I used to
see her, and recollection often restores it
in all its force, I made a comparison.
When one operis the petals of a rose, he
discovers a place, a spot where the light
scarcely enters, a zone protected, so fine
of tone that the color of the rose merges
into pale pink. That was the color of
her fair cheek."

The mother reflected an instant; her
voice, less assured, seemed to demand
grace for a maternal disability, for a
dolorous confidence.

"Will you believe, sir, that I can no
longer fix in my mind the color of her
eyes? Her dear regard, that tender gaze,
is unceasingly present, the expression
of joy that was all mine, but the rest,
no! I was just reflecting that those who
love, we mothers, see only the soul in
the eyes of our beloved."

"I am sure, on the contrary, madame,
that habit alone is the cause of that
ignorance and oblivion."

"Of what color were they? If you
know, tell me! Doubt is so terribly
cruel to me! You comprehend?"

The visitor had inclined; his eyes
vaguely traced the outlines of the torsal
column that sustained the table as he
replied, very low:

"They were pale blue, with circles of
violet. While she was serious the violet
dominated; when she was gay the blue
appeared to extend. And at all times
there was a little mobile flame that
danced in them."

The mother, with a brusque gesture,
opened the portfolio, seized the picture,
placed it flat on the table and irhperi-
ously, as one rends the veil of a secret
sorrow to expose the temple of the heart
to another:

"Look!" she cried; "I have only this!
It lacks the spirit, life!"

The man arose. He regarded the por-
trait for a few moments. His features
changed a little.

"Give me the crayons,' he said.

She hesitated, turned pale as a cadaver
when she saw in his hand the colors, and
that he was about to correct her picture,
that unique portrait that had issued so
marvelously from her inexperienced
fingers, perhaps to spoil it for all
time.

She turned away with closed eyes.
He bent, and, with the dexterity of an
artist touched the spaces of the eyes a
pale, transparent blue. Then a few more
master strokes and the light of intelli-
gence flashed from the azure depths of
those orbs.

The portrait was finished; the mother
had merely outlined it; another had ter-
minated, invested it with spirit. *

From the most profound recesses of
her heart issued a cry: "You loved her,
then!"

Was it jealousy or was it a nobler idea
that restrained it on her lips?

Their eyes met. Each noted there the
expression of a mute agony, of an emo-
tion too profound for words.

He imprinted a respectful kiss upon
the hand that she extended to him, and
then they parted— in silence.

MR. DE GRAW DICTATING A LETTER TO HIS STENOGRAPHER

IN ANOTHER ROOM

ON THE POSTOFFICE SHORT-LINE

By Wilbert Melville

ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE NATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION

TO a certain postmaster of Arkansas the
Honorable Peter V. DeGraw, fourth
assistant postmaster-general, will always
remain a man of mystery. The aforesaid
postmaster had occasion to call upon
the fourth assistant recently in connec-
tion with certain charges which had been
filed against him with the department,
and he brought with him letters and
documents which he felt certain would
substantiate his version of the affair and
result in a complete vindication for him.
Upon entering the big reception room
of the fourth assistant's office, he was

met by private secretary W. H. Allen,
who informed him that Mr. DeGraw was
closely engaged in his private conference
room, but that he, Mr. Allen, would be
most happy to serve him in any way
possible. The postmaster was so much
impressed by the cordial, friendly man-
ner of Mr. Allen that it took him but
a short time to make a complete state-
ment of the case and hand to the latter
all the papers which he brought along
to prove his innocence. Mr. Allen in-
vited the Arkansas gentleman to be
seated, assuring him of an interview with

632

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

PRIVATE SECRETARY ALLEN CONFERS WITH HIS CHIEF

Mr. DeGraw in a short while and, re-
turning to his desk, read over the
papers which had been given him.

In about ten minutes the door leading
from the private office opened and the
portly form of the fourth assistant ap-
peared. Crossing the room rapidly, he
took the Arkansas postmaster by the
hand, exclaiming: "Mr. Smith, I am so
glad to meet you; and it is a pleasure
for me to tell you of the department's
decision in regard to your case, which
is entirely favorable to you."

To the utter bewilderment of his visi-
tor, he then proceeded to enter into a
discussion of the case, showing perfect
familiarity with the contents of the
papers which had been given Mr. Allen.
The expression of the Arkansas man's
face was a study. He glanced at the
papers lying on Allen's desk, which to
his certain knowledge had not left the
room since he entered, then looked
dubiously at that genial gentleman, who
had not been out of his sight either.

How did the fourth assistant become
acquainted with the contents of his
papers, and, for that matter, know his
name? With a look of wonderment still
upon his face, he thanked Mr. DeGraw,
expressed his gratification at the out-
come of his visit and left the room, shak-
ing his head and muttering to himself:
"I have read Sherlock Holmes and seen
a number of second-sight artists perform,
but when it comes down to the real thing
in thought transmission this fourth
assistant and his private secretary are
certainly there with the goods."

Yet the explanation of the seeming
phenomena which puzzled the country
postmaster so is simple. The fourth
assistant postmaster-general possesses
the unique distinction of controlling and
operating the shortest telegraph line in
the world, and as this miniature system
connects Mr. DeGraw's desk with the
one occupied by his private secretary,
the latter was able to acquaint him with
the visitor's arrival and tc transmit the

ON THE POSTOFFICE SHORT LINE

633

STENOGRAPHER PRENDER TAKING DICTATION BY WIRE

contents of the papers which he had
received, without leaving his seat and
without the knowledge of anyone pres-
ent in either room.

The total amount of wire used in the
construction of "The Postoffice Short
Line" is less than thirty feet. The
desk of the fourth assistant is equipped
with a complete telegraphic apparatus, as
are the desks of his private secretary
and his confidential stenographer, Mr.
Robert H. Prender. As both Allen and
Prender are not only expert stenog-
raphers, but top-notch telegraphers, and
in addition possess the ability to read
each other's stenographic notes, it can
readily be understood that the operation
of such a system between them would
greatly facilitate the handling of a day's
business.

Mr. DeGraw was found very willing
to show the operation of his little line,
and, while admitting the novelty, stated
that it was there strictly for practical use
and between two old telegraphers was

a far quicker and more satisfactory mode
of communication than any other method
could possibly be.

"Wherein do you find telegraphy
especially adaptable to government busi-
ness?" he was asked.

"Oh, in many ways. I might say
generally," said Mr. DeGraw; "but
especially is it useful in the saving of
time, which is essential here for our per-
sonal welfare, for we do not agree with
our distinguished friend, the electrical
wizard Thomas A. Edison, who, I
understand, has recently declared that
regular sleep is not a necessity. I be-
lieve sleep is not an essential factor in
the well-being of that estimable gentle-
man; but unfortunately for us, perhaps,
we are not in his class. I find in my
case that six hours sound sleep out of
every twenty-four is the only safe founda-
tion upon which to secure a full day's
hard work at a desk, day in and day
out. A man may 'space' on diet, but
experience has taught me that in order

034

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

to keep in prime condition it is unsafe
to trespass upon the last six sleeping
hours of each day, hence I endeavor
to follow the rule of working ten hours,
sparing the brain by recreation during
the next five hours and making sure of
sleeping six, thus leaving three hours
each day for meals, etc."

When asked why he found it necessary
to work ten hours each day, Mr. DeGraw
explained the requirements of the four
divisions which comprise his bureau,
namely, those of appointments, bonds,
city free delivery and rural free delivery,
which include in their jurisdictions up-
ward of 156,000 persons, necessitating,
with other routine duties of the office,
the personal signing of a budget of
several hundred letters a day, and this
alone consumes between two and a half
and three hours.

Although he has been out of the tele-
graph business for a number of years,
telegraphers familiar with his "touch"
declare that Mr. DeGraw has never lost
his cunning at the key. Along in the
'8o's, while managing the Washington
bureau of the United Press, he trans-
mitted to New York, on a test, 490 words
in ten minutes, each word spelled out in
full, which for a long time was the
record in fast sending. Since that time
first-class telegraphers have acquired
what is known as the Phillips steno-tele-
graphy, a code especially adapted to the
transmission of newspaper matter, and
which is capable of doubling and some-
times trebling the capacity of a wire in
comparison with the early methods em-
ployed in transmission, when every word
had to be written out in full. The send-
ing of code telegraphy was made possi-
ble through the adoption of the type-
writer for receiving purposes, thus en-

abling the receiver greatly to increase
his speed. The telegraphers on the
"Postoffice Short Line" are all experi-
enced code men, which still further en-
chances the value and adaptability of the
recently installed electrical acquisition.

While the writer was discussing with
Mr. DeGraw in the conference room the
advantages of this unique adjunct as a
part of the paraphernalia of an up-to-
date business office, a page appeared on
the scene and hurriedly conveyed to the
fourth assistant a message which required
immediate reply. Under ordinary cir-
cumstances a stenographer would have
been summoned to take the reply in
notes which he would have had to trans-
cribe, consuming in all perhaps ten
minutes and necessitating an interrup-
tion to the conference between the assist-
ant postmaster-general and the visitor.
Instead of following this stereotyped
course, in a twinkling, without risjng
from his chair, Mr. DeGraw wired his
secretary a hasty reply to the message.
This was copied from the wire on the
typewriter, and in less time than it takes
to tell it the incident became a duly
recorded and finished official transac-
tion.

It will be seen that a very important
part is played by the little sounders in
the official proceedings of this busy
office, and there is no doubt but that,
especially during the session, they
can be utilized to splendid advantage,
especially in the conveyance to the
fourth assistant of knowledge of specially
urgent matters, without interrupting the
important conferences that may be in
progress as they arise, and of which
there are many each day in the
southwestern corner of the fifth
floor of the huge postoffice building.

All forces have been steadily employed to complete and delight me ;
Now on thrs spot I stand with my robust Soul.

— Walt Whitman.

»?/ IN ;

^'.;-

:?f+r

-v<t*»f

By Mary R. Towle

CAMBRTDGE, MASSACHUSETTS

**tiIHERE have you been, papa?"
W asked Tom, one afternoon after
a heavy rain, as papa came up to the
verandah with his riding boots on and
his clothes splashed with mud.

"I've been for a ride over to the other
farm to take a look at Betsy, the mare
that I have just bought," answered papa.
"I am thinking of letting her enter the
race at the Clover Hill fair."

"Oh, a real horse race, papa?" cried

Tom. "How jolly! Do
let Betsy be in it! Oh,
mayn't I go over to the
other farm and look at her,
too?" "Yes, indeed! Perhaps
Jason will take you over tomor-
row in the runabout, when he
goes for the milk."

The next morning early, while
the yellow primroses were still
open and the lanes wet with
glistening dew, Jason drove out
of the gateway in a trap drawn
by two big gray horses. Tom
was with him, and also Roland
and Blanche, two children from
a neighboring farm, and the
milk cans were snugly stowed
away under the back seat. What a
good time they had! They stayed
all the morning over at papa's other
farm. The farmer's wife gave them
some buttermilk and some delicious,
golden-brown cookies and when the
farmer came in from the fields he
took them out to the stables and
showed them Rashid, the spotted black
and white bull, and a great many
cows and horses, and finally, shut into a
big square stall, all by herself, Betsy, the
beautiful young mare. When papa came
home that afternoon all three children
begged him to let Betsy enter the race.

636

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

"I'm sure she'd win," said Roland,
" 'cause I went to a race once and the
horse that won looked just like Betsey."

"I'm going to write a letter to
Archie," said Tom, "and tell him to
hurry home from grandma's so that he
can see the race, too. Oh, papa, you
must let Betsy be in it!" And so papa
said at last that he would.

As the weeks went by the children
could talk of nothing but the wonderful
fair that was to be held at Clover Hill.
There were to be exhibits of horses,
cows and all sorts of farm animals, and
side shows and popcorn and pink lemon-
ade. The fair was to last for three days.
On the second day there was to be a
balloon ascension, and on the third day
the horse race. Nearly every farmer for
miles around had a favorite colt which
was to enter this race.

On the afternoon before the first day
of the fair, Jason brought Betsy over
from the other farm and locked her up
in one of the box stalls.

"She stands a good chance of winning
the race," he said to Tom, "but there's
a good many wishes she didn't."

"Who wishes she didn't?"

"Why, some of the owners of the other
horses."

"Tom!" called papa from the veran-
dah.

"Yes, papa!" answered Tom, run-
ning up.

"Do you think you could take care of
the place alone tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, indeed, papa."

"Well, mama and I are going away
for a few hours, and as -the servants
want a day off to go to the fair, we have
decided that they may as well go tomor-
row, for I have reasons for wishing them
to be at home the next two days. All
you need do is to stay and play near
the house, and mama and I will be back
at about noon. You will noj be afraid,
will you?"

"Oh, no, papa! Roland and Blanche
will come down and play hide and-seek,

and — and will you let me dig some pota-
toes? They're awfully big now — Tim
dug one the other day."

"Very well; you may dig a basketful."

The next morning, before papa started,
he called Tom into a store-room off the
kitchen and pointed to a big key hang-
ing on a hook. "That is the key to the
stable," he said, "and, remember, you
are to let no one in. No one must touch
Betsy but Jason or myself."

"All right, papa!" said Tom. "Good-
bye! Goodbye, mama!"

The carriages rolled down the drive-
way and papa and mama and the ser-
vants were soon out of sight. Tom felt
a little lonesome at first; then he de-
cided to go and dig potatoes, and, tak-
ing the basket and a shovel, he started
for the potato field, which was near the
barn. He dug a few potatoes and then
whom should he see coming through the
orchard but Roland and Blanche. He
ran to meet them, and soon all were
playing a merry game of hide-and-seek,

"Who are those two men coming down
the road?" asked Blanche, as they sat
down to rest for a minute on a great
. rock.

"What men?" asked Roland. "I
don't see any."

"Those two men," repeated the little
girl, pointing with her finger. "Why-
why, where are they? I saw them, and
now I don't see them any more!"

"Pooh, I guess what you saw was a
tree!" said Roland. "I don't see any-
thing, do you, Tom?"

"No," said Tom, and, running out
beyond the gate-posts into the street, he
reported that no one was in sight in
either direction up the road.

'-'Let's play some more now," said he,
coming back. "I'm 'it'!"

"All right," answered Roland. "We'll
give you while we count ten hundred to
get away." So lie and Blanche put their
heads down on the well-curb, with their
eyes shut and began to count: "Ten, ten,
double ten, forty-five, fifteen! Ten, ten,

HOW TOM KEPT HOUSE

637

double ten, forty-five, fifteen!" while
Tom turned and ran away as fast as his
legs could carry him. He had already
decided where to hide. He knew of a
fine dark place in the wood-shed, behind
a row of barrels, and in less than a
minute he was snugly tucked away in it,
sitting on his feet and breathing as softly
as he could after running so hard.

He waited and waited. Once he was
sure he heard Roland and Blanche go
by the corner of the shed and walk
around toward the stable, and then he
thought he heard Blanche's laugh over
in the direction of the strawberry beds ;
then all was silent. He waited a long
time, but, except for the clucking of the
hens in the poultry yard, he heard no
sound. Perhaps they had given up
hunting for him and gone home! His
feet were beginning to go to sleep and
he decided that he would creep softly
out and just peep around the corner.
Cautiously he wriggled out from behind
the barrels and was tiptoeing toward the
front of the shed, when — what do you
suppose he saw? A tall man standing
just inside the great gray shed door and
looking through a crack in it toward the
house ! Just at that moment Tom made
a noise, by stepping on a loose board,
and the man turned around and saw him.
For an instant Tom thought of running,
for the man's face was very fierce, but
the man quickly stepped between him
and the half-open door and smiled what
seemed to Tom a terrible smile.

"Anyone at home?" asked the man
in a very gentle, low voice.

"Yes, sir," answered Tom, shaking
all over. "There's Blanche and Roland
and—"

"Can you take me to the stables with-
out anyone's seeing us?" asked the man,
confidentially and in a still lower tone.

"The stables are locked," said Tom.

"Don't you know where the key is?"

"Ye-es, but papa doesn't want anyone
to go in there while he's away."

The man smiled again; "Papa is a

great friend of mine," he said, "and he
told me to come 'round to the house here
and that his little boy, Jimmy, — isn't
that your name?"

"Tom, sir."

"Oh, yes, I remember now! — that
Tom would show me over the stables."

Tom hesitated. He knew that he
ought to be courteous to a guest, but
this man did not seem at all like one of
papa's friends, and then, too, why had
he been hiding in the wood-shed? Sup-
pose he should be a horse-thief and mean
to steal Betsy!

The Terrible Man seemed to read
Tom's thoughts. "I won't do any harm
if you'll let me in," he said. "I ain't
a thief. I 'spose you're thinking of the
mare, but, don't you see, I couldn't steal
her, if I wanted to, with all them ser-
vants in the house. I only want to pat
her and perhaps give her a lump of
sugar. I'm a great lover of fine horses."

But by this time Tom's mind was
made up. "No, sir," he said, "I'm
sorry, but I can't let you in. I'm afraid
I'm very uncivil, but I told papa I
wouldn't."

In an instant the man's manner
changed. "Now, you young rascal," he
said, "I'm not going to waste any more
time with you. You march to the house
and fetch that key this instant, without
saying a word to anyone or I'll kill you;
see?"

Poor Tom was frightened nearly to
death, but he said not a word. The
man stepped away from the door and
pointed toward the house. "If you don't
do as I say," headded, "there's another
man up there who will catch you and
bring you back, and if you speak a word
to one of the servants he'll hear you
and catch you as sure as you live. Now
go, and be quick about it!"

Tom was only too glad to get away
from the Terrible Man, and, running as
fast as he could, he entered the half-
open front door of the house. Roland
and Blanche were nowhere in sight, and

638

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

Tom felt that he was alone— alone with
the Terrible Man and the other man who
was waiting to catch him! Yet, fright-
ened as he was, he was still determined
not to give up the key. What should he
do? Perhaps he could get away by the
back door, creep along by the raspberry
hedge and run across lots to the house
where Mr. Newfield lived, Roland's and
Blanche's papa. He stole along a little
passageway leading to the kitchen, softly
turned the door-knob, and was just cross-
ing the room toward the outer door when
what should he see through the closed
window but the top of a man's hat,
showing just above the Virginia creep-
ers! It took Tom about a half of one
second to go back by the way he had
come and to take refuge in the big hall
closet. What should he do? Oh, what
should he do? The Terrible Man was
waiting for him to come back with the
key, and the Other Man was watching
the only door of escape!

Just then Tom happened to bump his
head against something in the darkness.
It was the telephone. Papa had it
put into the hall closet because mamma
couldn't telephone where there was any
noise. And now all of a sudden, it
occurred to Tom that he might telephone
for help. But to whom should he tele-
phone? The house was a mile from the
village, and Mr. Newfield, the nearest
neighbor, had probably gone to Clover
Hill to the fair. Then Tom remembered
hearing Mr. Newfield say, the day be-
fore, that if the meadow hay was not all
in he should not go to the fair that
morning. Perhaps, after all, he was at
home! Anyway, Tom felt that it was
his only chance.

He had often watched his papa tele-
phone, but he had never telephoned
himself. He believed, though, that he
could do it — he must do it! He took
the receiver off the hook and held it to
his ear. Oh, dear! he was so short that
his mouth did not reach the place to
speak into. He thought he could hear

heavy steps in the kitchen. With trem-
bling hands he pulled down all the coats
and shawls that he could find in the
closet, rolled them up into a big bundle
and pushed the bundle up in front of the
telephone. Slowly and with the greatest
care, he climbed up on the bundle.
Hurrah ! he was just tall enough now, —
just barely tall enough by standing on
tiptoe. He rang the bell, and in a
minute came the word, clear and dis-
tinct, "Hello!" How good it sounded!

"Oh, hello, Central!" answered Tom.
"Please give me Mr. Newfield's house —
quickly!"

"Mr. Newfield's gone to the fair, if
you want him," was the answer. "I saw
him pass here at about nine o'clock."

"Oh, then, Mr. Central, please won't
you send someone to help me? There
are two dreadful men here, and they're
going to kill me right off. I'm Tom —
Tom Fairfax — and I'm hiding in the
hall closet! Please—" But just at this
point in Tom's message the bundle of
coats and shawls, which had been grow-
ing shakier and shakier, collapsed en-
tirely and Tom, bending backward to
save himself, fell heavily to the floor and
struck his head against something hard.

The next thing that Tom knew he was
lying in his own little bed, just beside
his own little latticed window, with the
blue and white muslin curtains, and with
the morning glory blossoms looking in
from outside. Mamma was sitting be-
side him. When she saw him open his
eyes she gave a little cry, and, jumping
up from her chair, bent over him and
kissed him a great many times. "My
precious boy!" she said. Tom had a
queer feeling in his head, and when he
put one hand up to it he touched a band-
age.

"WThy, what is the matter with my
head, mamma?" he asked.

"You struck it against a corner of the
wood-box when you fell," answered

HOW TOM KEPT HOUSE

639

mamma, "and the doctor bandaged it.
Don't you remember? Didn't you feel
it when papa lifted you up and carried
you out of the closet?"

"Oh, mamma," said Tom, "did they
find me there? Did someone come?"
Suddenly he had remembered all about
the telephone and the two terrible men.
"Are they gone?" he added in an ex-
cited whisper, suddenly sitting up in
bed.

"Hush, dear," said mamma. "You
must lie down and keep very quiet, for
your bruised head has made you a little
feverish. Yes, they are gone, and I
don't think they will trouble us again."

"Did they want to steal Betsy,
mamma?"

"No, I think not, but they probably
meant to lame her or to give her some-
thing to eat that would make her ill, so
that she could not race."

A hundred questions came into Tom's
head all at once, but before he had time

to ask any of them papa came into the
room.

"Oh, hello, papa !" cried Tom, putting,
up both arms, -and then he added, after
a minute, "Do you know, I think it was
downright mean for two of those fellows
to come when I was here alone. Now if
they'd come one at a time, it would have
been more like — a fair fight!"

Papa smiled. "You put up a very
good fight as it was," he said — "the best
kind of a fight under the circumstances.
I'm proud of you, Tom!" Tom blushed
but felt very happy. It meant something
to be praised by papa.

"Archie is coming home from grand-
ma's tonight," continued papa, "and if
that head of yours is well enough by
tomorrow, we are all going over to the
fair in a tallyho."

The head was well enough, and they
all went and had a jolly time. But what
pleased Tom more than anything else
was that Betsy won the race.

DOROTHY

By Alex Derby

JAMESTOWN, NEW YORK

li/HEN Dorothea looked on me

I felt love's fitful fever.
( There breathes no fairer maid than she

Dorothy Seaver.)

I knew her for a sad coquette ;
Twas folly to believe her.
But ah, she wove a silken net —
• Sly Dolly Seaver!

And now she's jilted me at last
My woe doth little grieve her;

Her laugh rings free as in the past —
This gay D. Seaver!

NATIVE PLAYS IN FAVOR

By Helen Arthur

NEW YORK CITY

IN every field of labor, in industrial,
political, and professional pursuits
alike, there comes a time recognized by
the wide-awake man as a critical mo-
ment, the turning point when opportun-
ity comes to knock, and, having knocked,
does not tarry long for a response. Such
a time has come in the theatrical world
and it is furnishing to the unknown
American playwright his chance for a
hearing, the possibility of leading a new
movement in the dramatic realm.

In print these days one sees much
discussion, polite and otherwise, regard-
ing the methods of a certain "Theatrical
Trust."

Today, dislike to own it as we may,
the theatrical world has one universal
standard — the money standard; let it be
so, since it lies within our power to make
that standard stand for good. Admit,
once for all, the necessity of judging
plays by box-office receipts and consider
the public as a collection of individuals
willing or unwilling to pay two dollars
for an orchestra chair. Undertand that
a manager is a business man with a list
of trained employes and specialists in
certain lines to whom he must pay
salaries each week, whether he has work
for them or not. Why? Because he
dare not let them go, not knowing what
minute he may need their help. He has
under contract many others than players
— press representatives, stage managers,
scene painters, electricians. They know
his ideas and methods, and are too valu-
able to lose, but their pay falls due each
week with the regularity which is so de-
lightful to them, so harrowing to the
manager.

Worse than this, he has "stars" to
manage, to whom salary is as nothing
compared with the desire to shine on
Broadway, in a new "production," and
so the fear of bankruptcy and of per-
sonal unpopularity often drives the man-
ager in desperation to risk a production
that will, temporarily at least, quiet some
if not all of his staff. And when in this
scheme of things we reach the "produc-
tion" itself, then we have arrived at the
question of demand and supply. The
sources of supply are naturally American
and English. There are occasionally
Fren'ch, Scandinavian, Russian or Ger-
man plays of sufficient strength to bear
transplanting, or of so broad a theme as
to interest an American audience, but
the results obtained from translation or
adaptation have not justified the man-
ager in putting much faith in the finding
of success by these means.

The greatest success of the Paris sea-
son, produced in this country under the
name of "Business is Business," and
with William H. Crane interpreting the
leading part, was a dire failure; so also
was Sudermann's " Zapfenstreichen,"
called in America "Taps" and inter-
preted by Herbert Kelcey and Effie
Shannon, and which, as "Lights Out,"
is now the talk of the London theatrical
world. These examples could easily be
multiplied, and the reason is obvious.
The plays deal with conditions quite
unknown to us, and consequently with-
out meaning.

The London market has been cor-
nered by Charles Frohman. He has
options on all plays— the output of such
dramatists as Pinero, Jones, Marshall

NATlVK I'LAYS IN FAVOR

641

and P.airif, and sliould he choose to
forfeit the option the amount deposited
is $|&ily made up from the profits of any
one Success. When the London produc-
tions prove hits, .Mr. Frohman risks
their presentation in America, and al-
though the chances are good for New
York's indorsement of London's opin-
ion, still the fact that Mr. Frohman has

just so many dramas to apportion be-
tween so many "stars," leads sometimes
to disastrous results. William Faver-
sham in "Letty" was a good example
of this, as was likewise this season Nat
Goodwin in "The Beauty and The
Barge."

Today, therefore, the great majority
of managers look to American play-

MAUDE ADAMS AS PETER PAN IN BARRIE'S PLAY OF THAT NAME

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

wrights for new plays. There are in
New York twenty-four theaters of the
first class. The plays now on their
boards can be classified, as to authors:
fourteen American, six foreign, while
the other four are reviving classics. Of
the six foreign plays, three are by
Englishmen, one by an Irishman,
one a Scotchman and one by a Bel-
gian.

The most successful play is Mr. Bar-
rie's "Peter Pan," with Miss Maude
Adams as Peter; but Charles Klein's
"Music Master," with David Warfield,
has played one whole season in New
York and is now testing the capacity
of the Bijou. Maeterlinck's " Monna
Vanna," Shaw's "Man and Superman"
and Sutro's "The Walls of Jericho" are
popular, but not more so than Belasco's
"Girl from the Golden West" or Fitch's
"Her Great Match" or Henry Miller's
"Zira."

Nor are the plays by well known Amer-
ican authors the only successful ones.
Channing Pollock, whose dramatization
of "The Pit" was well received, has this
season three comedies to his credit — a

dramatization of "In the Bishop's Car-
riage" and of "The Secret Orchard,"
and an original comedy entitled "The
Little Gray Lady." Margaret Mayo,
the daughter of the late Frank Mayo,
has put into play form "The Marriage of
William Ashe," and has furnished Miss
Grace George with a play almost as
popular as the novel. Edward Peple's
first effort, "The Prince Chap." proved
such a drawing card that it was moved
from the Madison Square theater to
Weber's Music Hall, in order to allow
it to continue its run.

A playwright's name is not much of
a drawing card and has almost no per-
ceptible effect in influencing patronage.
This season we have seen George Ade's
"The Bad Samaritan" succumb to the
public's indifference, not to mention the
rapidity with which Bernard Shaw's
"John Bull's Other Island" was with-
drawn. Thanks to audiences more
discriminating in their judgment
of plays than ever before, we shall
find the managers and playwrights
more than ever desirous of presenting
plays worthy of intelligent patronage.

THE SMOKE OF A CITY

AS SEEN FROM AN ELEVATED TRAIN

By Edith Livingstone Smith

BEDFORD, MASSACHUSETTS

IIP from the altar of a City's shrine,

*"^ A cloud of smoke as incense rises far,

To gently yield itself unto the sky

While hours creep from dawn to evening's star : —

And ever 'neath the maze of roof and arch,

Weaving the threads — the warp and woof of Toil —

Man's strength of arm and woman's patient hands

Give work for bread — ask gold for their life's spoil:

While they who see this cloud float on its way

And feel the pulse which swings the censer high,

Send wonder on a little sobbing prayer

That some smile there, — and seme, in hunger, cry!

KLK-K

By C. W. Tyler

PICTURES BY M. L. B LU M E N T H A L

A GRIEVOUS MISTAKE HAVING BEEN MADE, CERTAIN WELL
DISPOSED PERSONS DO THEIR ENDEAVOR TO RECTIFY IT

THE old woman's tale spread through
the community almost as rapidly as
intelligence of the startling crime had
done the night before. The excitement,
which had begun to die out, was kindled
afresh, and by nightfall a large crowd
was again assembled on the ground
where the house had stood. They lin-
gered in groups about the decaying
embers and discussed earnestly the latest
developments in the shocking tragedy.
All regretted now the untimely taking
off of poor Sandy, and, as was natural
under the circumstances, nearly every
man displayed a disposition to shift the
responsibility for this melancholy blun-
der from his own to the shoulders of
someone else. This individual never
had acquiesced in the hasty action of

the mob, but, being timid about speak-
ing in public, had not raised his voice
in protest against it; another had actu-
ally spoken out in favor of caution and
a more thorough investigation, but in
the general hubbub that existed, at the
moment nobody had overheard him.
Everyone who knew anything favorable
in Sandy's career now hastened to tell
it, and the verdict of the previous night
that he was a deep-dyed scoundrel was
reversed almost as hastily as it had been
been rendered.

If expressions of sympathy, however,
had now taken the place of execrations
in the case of the unfortunate negro,
exactly the opposite was true with the
individual known to most people there-
about as Cross-eyed Jack. This fellow

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

had been one of the ringleaders in the
fren/ied assemblage that had done an
innocent man to death for a fearful
crime. Not only so, but he alone of
all present knew the man was innocent
who was being made to atone for the
monstrous wrong done. This Cross-eyed
Jack, they were all agreed now, was a
diabolical scoundrel who should be
compelled to suffer the agonies of a
thousand deaths, if such a penalty could
be inflicted upon him. What! burn a
dwelling at midnight; murder an inoffen-
sive old woman in cold blood; compel
a young girl to hide from him like a
partridge; and then hurry an innocent
man to death for the crimes he had him-
self committed! Do all this and expect
to escape the vengeance of a deeply
outraged community! Where was he?
Where was he? Mount your horses, you
good men, and hunt the scoundrel down.
Catch him, catch him, catch him! this
malignant devil in human shape; and
hang him, draw him, quarter him, burn
him, send him out of the world as soon
as he is caught by the very roughest
road any mortal creature has ever been
forced to travel. This was the angry
sentence entered up against Cross-eyed
Jack as the infuriated crowd stood
around the ashes of the old Bascombe
house and contemplated their own work
of the night before and the shocking
depravity of the wretch who had been
foremost among them in the enterprise
upon which they nearly all at the time
were so heartily bent.

The villain who was now the object
of their fierce wrath perhaps deserved
all the anathemas that were being hurled
against him, and more beside. In ap-
pearance he was such a man-animal as
one may imagine roamed the earth mil-
lions of years ago, when human beings
first began to claim ascendency over four-
footed creatures. In disposition he was,
if possible, even uglier than in face or
figure. No human being is perhaps
wholly depraved, but if there was a

single redeeming feature in the charac-
ter of this surly scoundrel, his mother
had never been able to discover it. He
was of foreign parentage, as his name,
Johan Ankerstorm, indicated, but had
been reared in the lowest quarter of one
of our large American cities, from which
he had been finally compelled to with-
draw because his frequent infractions of
the law had placed him on too familiar
terms with the police. A few months
before the tragedy at the Bascombe
place, he had drifted into the Marrow-
bone Hills, and wandering about, work-
ing at odd jobs, he became known by
sight to many of the good people of that
section. His name being unusual— and
a little more than a mouthful for some
of his new acquaintances — they had sad-
dled upon him numerous aliases, such as
Cross-eyed Jack, Dutch Ankers, etc., for
all of which the callous Johan cared no
more than a stray dog would have cared
if divers appellations had been bestowed
. upon him in a community as he shifted
his habitat from place to place.

This was the creature, then, for whom
anxious inquiry was now being made on
all sides. The crowd were resolved to
have him, and the crowd were resolved
to make short work of him when they
did get him. So they instituted hasty
search, and up and down and across
country they rode and they ran. They
picked up scraps of information, and
hastened back with each item to the
surging mass of human beings who
waited for the capture of the miscreant,
and grew angrier with delay. A wag-
oner had brought Johan — Dutch Ankers
he called him — from a cross-roads village
in the hills the evening before and had
set him down not far from the Bascombe
place. Ankerstorm, however, when he
left the wagoner, had gone toward the
house of a farmer, named Dotson, for
whom he had at one time worked a few
days. He carried an ax on his shoulder
and told the wagoner that Dotson owed
him a bill which he wished to collect.

Randolph Pearson

Drawn by M. L. B lu ia e nt h. a 1

646

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

As soon as this news was brought, one
was sent off post-haste to inquire into
the matter, and soon brought back word
from Dotson — who was an honest but
cross-grained old chap — that he had not
seen hair nor hide of Dutch Ankers,
and, moreover, that anybody who said
he owed them money was a liar. This
showed that Ankerstorm had been loaf-
ing about in the neighborhood on the
night of the crime, but his presence at
the mobbing of Sandy proved that. The
wagoner's tale proved further, however,
that the fellow carried an ax, and this
was a strong corroborating circumstance
—if any had been needed— to strengthen
the narrative of old Mrs. Bascombe.
Much more to the point was the infor-
mation, brought in later, that the man
whose presence was so much desired
had gotten dinner on the preceding day
— Sunday — at a house not five miles
away from the scene of the crime. After
dinner he had lain down under a tree
in the yard, like one wholly free from
concern, and taken a long nap. When
he woke he went off on foot toward
Nashville, saying he was going to that
place to seek work. From his conduct
at this place, it was argued that the
house-burner and double murderer was
under no special apprehension, and
might be overtaken if prompt pursuit
was made. He no doubt rested under
the assurance that the blow from his ax
had rendered the old widow forever in-
capable of telling tales, and the execu-
tion of the negro by the mob would
leave the public under the impression
that the real offender had been pun-
ished. A half-dozen men now started on
good horses to apprehend the scoundrel
and bring him back. These were spe-
cially enjoined by the large crowd that
still lingered on the ground — for they
were coming and going all the time —
not to despatch Ankerstrom when they
caught him, but to fetch him back to
the scene of his villainy, where the
whole assemblage might have the satis-

faction of dealing with him. This was
late at night, and many now stretched
themselves out on the bare ground to
sleep away the time that must intervene
before the return of the squad that had
been sent forth upon this mission.

It was in the forenoon on Sunday that
Randolph Pearson first learned of the
terrible tragedy at the house from which
he had himself departed at bedtime on
the evening before. He heard at the
same time that the negro, Kinchen, had
been hung for the crime by a mob of
indignant citizens. Riding to the place
as rapidly as he could, he found a large
crowd assembled, the dwelling in ashes,
and the widow Bascombe dying in a
corner of her yard under an improvised
tent. Pearson did not believe in mob
law as a remedy for any evil, and even
under these trying circumstances he
plainly said to those whom he suspected
of having been members of the mob that
it would have been better to have turned
the negro over to the courts, rather than
deal with him themselves in such sum-
mary fashion. The courts, he said, were
slow, and sometimes there was a failure
of justice, but hurried uprisings at night
affored but a poor substitute for deliber-
ate investigation, such as should be had
when the life of a human being was at
stake. Moreover, when good citizens
advertised to the world that they had no
faith in the laws under which they lived,
they gave to the community in which
they resided an unenviable notoriety.
All this, and more, said Randolph Pear-
son calmly to his neighbors at a time
when everyone supposed the negro, Kin-
chen, had met a just fate. That night,
when the whole truth was out, and it
was found that the hasty execution of
Sandy had been a terrible blunder, Pear-
son indulged in no additional criticism
on the conduct of the mob, but resolved
that a second individual should not be
hastily done to death for the same of-
fense if he could prevent it. He was an
earnest, conscientious man, was Ran-

THE K. K. K.

647

dolph Pearson, much respected by all
his neighbors; but when he announced
the conclusion he had reached on this
subject, he was met by a storm of indig-
nation and many of his best friends
withstood him to the teeth. There
should be no delay — they said — in the
punishment of the scoundrel whose crime
was too black to admit of any thought
of indulgence in his case. There should
be no long legal investigation to wear
out the patience of witnesses, and maybe
result at last in the utter failure of jus-
tice. Mobs might sometimes make mis-
takes and hang the wrong man, but there
was no doubt about the guilt of this fel-
low, and swing he should to the very
tree on which poor Kinchen had died,
just as soon as the squad that had gone
to seek him could lay hands on him and
bring him back.

Day broke, however, before the return
of the squad that had gone forth in quest
of the murderer. Many had left, wearied
with the long delay, but others took their
places, and by sunrise on Monday morn-
ing the assemblage was greater than it
had been at any time before. Numer-
ous persons were now present from a
distance, for the news of the terrible
tragedy at the old Bascombe place had
spread far and wide through the country.
All waited impatiently to learn some-
thing of the whereabouts of the mur-
derer, but for many hours waited in
vain. About two hours after sunrise
the half dozen horsemen returned with
the report that they had scoured the
country for the missing man but had
failed to find any trace of him after he
left the place where he took dinner.
This intelligence was most disheartening
to the crowd, but not so to Pearson, who
believed with diligent effort the fugitive
could be apprehended, and in the mean-
time suitable precaution could be taken
against his being swung up by the mob
as soon as he was caught.

It was necessary to act promptly, and
Pearson resolved, while the interest was

at white heat, to organize a band of
determined men who would aid him in
the double purpose he had formed, first
to effect the capture of the fugitive, and,
second, to see that he was not killed by
a crowd of frenzied men as soon as
overtaken. To apprehend the criminal,
it was now evident, would be no eas}
task, but would probably require sys-
tematic search, in which it might be
necessary to employ skilled detectives.
The sheriff could ride the county, and
the governor might be induced to offer
a reward, but other means must be re-
sorted to if it was expected to ferret out
a hardened villain, who even now, no
doubt, was making his way secretly out
of the country.

Thus said Randolph Pearson to those
who were now more than willing to
listen to him, and it was agreed that
a meeting should be held that night for
the purpose of organization, none to be
present except twenty or thirty active
men, who were selected in advance, and
who could be relied on to render ma-
terial aid in the contemplated work.
Upon one point the author of this plan
was compelled to make some concession.
Those who had agreed to band together
were divided upon the question as to
whether the fugitive should be turned
over to the courts when caught, or dealt
with by themselves. After some discus-
sion, however, they concluded, first, to
work unitedly for the arrest of the mur-
derer, and when this was accomplished
to leave his subsequent disposition to
a decision of a majority of their own
number.

The young gentleman who had given
his name as Robert Lee Templeton was
not among those who had agreed to or-
ganize for the purpose of apprehending
and punishing the murderer. He was
a stranger in the vicinity and could not
have cooperated with the other members
regularly, even if he had been made one
of their number; and, besides, having
little knowledge of his character and

648

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

habits, they were not disposed to admit
him at once into full fellowship with
them. He was undoubtedly a whole-
souled, generous young fellow, however,
and a task was therefore assigned him
which he was glad to undertake as soon
as he had received the suggestion from
some of the older citizens present. This
was to ride to the county town, a dozen
or more miles away, swear out a warrant
for the arrest of the murderer, Anker-
strom, and place the writ without delay
in the hands of the sheriff. By giving
the law officer a description of the per-
sonal appearance of Cross-eyed Jack, he
could make sure of his recognition wher-
ever found. Templeton, however, when
this latter suggestion was made to him,
declared he would not only give the writ
to the sheriff, but would accompany that
officer and help him arrest the murderer
whenever they came upon him.

Before the large assemblage dispersed,
Pearson and a few other charitable per-
sons imposed on themselves another
duty which they thought was demanded
by simple justice under the circumstan-
ces. Taking advantage of the sympathy
that was openly expressed for the inno-
cent negro who had fallen a victim to
mob violence, they sought to obtain sub-
stantial aid for the family he had left
behind. Kinchen, fortunately, had not
raised such a brood as is usually found
around the cabins of members of his
race, and therefore provision for his
family could be the more easily made.
His wife, Patsy, and his young son Pete
constituted the entire connection that
remained to mourn him, if we except
the little fox terrier that came so near
meeting death under the same gallows
tree with his master. By heading a
subscription list with a liberal donation
of their own, and going first to those
who were able and willing to contribute
generously, they soon obtained a fund
sufficient to buy a few acres of hill land
as a permanent home for Patsy Kin-
chen, widow of the late Sandy. As the

opportunity for inquiry was favorable,
they learned also of a piece of ground
back in the uplands with which the
owner was willing to part for a modest
remuneration. This little tract had tim-
ber and running water, two essentials in
that locality, but lacked a dwelling.
Numerous individuals who sympathized
with the object but lacked money, now
came forward and offered to cut logs
for the tenement and give a house-rais-
ing on the place one day during the fol-
lowing week. The necessary prelimi-
naries being thus arranged, the bargain
was struck, the land paid for and -a bind-
ing agreement entered into for the erec-
tion of a substantial log residence for
Patsy Kinchen; all within less than
forty-eight hours after her husband's
unexpected departure from this world.
Sandy himself, while a sojourner upon
earth, had come to forty years or there-
abouts and had never accumulated any
property but a dog. Viewed strictly
from a business standpoint, therefore,
his wife Patsy, though a loud and sin-
cere mourner at his funeral, was not
seriously a loser by the hasty action of
the mob.

That night, after the veil of darkness
enveloped the earth, and most good folk
in the neighborhood were abed resting
from the fatigue and excitement of the
past two days, a score or more of ener-
getic citizens met at a designated spot
to form the organization that had been
determined upon in the morning. They
met out of doors because the night was
pleasant, and they wished to avoid the
notoriety that must have followed their
assembling at any farm-house. A secret
organization was preferable too, because
by this means undesirable persons could
be more readily kept out of the asso-
ciation and the determination to over-
take the murderer and deal with him as
they saw fit could be more easily accom-
plished. As very often happens in such
enterprises, the original design to form
a temporary union for the accomplish-

THE K. K. K.

649

ment of a single purpose expanded as
they conferred on the occasion of their
first meeting, and they thought it expe-
dient to unite themselves into a company
of regulators, or patrolers, which should
undertake not only to bring Ankerstrom
to justice for his offense, but also to take
some steps toward bringing about a
more settled condition of affairs in their
community. Lawlessness, if not ram-
pant, had gotten to be quite common
among them, and negroes were undoubt-
edly the principal depredators as far as
minor offenses were concerned. Now
and then they were unjustly suspected,
as was shown by the terrible mistake in
the Kinchen case, but their peccadilloes
in the way of hog-stealing, hen-roost
robberies and the like were sufficiently
well established to make it expedient
if possible to put some check upon
them. In addition, there was among
good citizens in the community a grow-
ing contempt for the law and a conse-
quent disposition after every criminal
offense to substitute hasty retribution for
judicial investigation, and this danger-
ous tendency needed to be curbed in
some prudent manner.

All things considered, the little group
that met under the greenwood tree on
this occasion thought it best to organize
a band of regulators in their section,
and as they cast about them for rules
and regulations by which to govern such
an association, they could stumble on no

better plan than to resurrect an old
society that had exerted a great influ-
ence on their community shortly aftei
the close of the Civil war. Times had
greatly changed, but the purpose of
the former order, as generally under-
stood, did not differ materially from
those now sought to be accomplished.
Three or four members of this old secret
society were present, and from these all
the grips and pass-words were obtained,
together with the substance of the con-
stitution and by-laws as well as the
latter had been preserved in faithful
memories. Under the quiet stars, then,
and at considerable distance from any
human habitation, the mysterious order
of the K. K. K. was revived, its ritual
restored, its officers chosen and solemnly
sworn, its members bound to secrecy by
a vow so dreadful that the lightest among
them would not dare afterward to violate
his obligation. This done, they pre-
pared to take action on some other
matters they deemed worthy of their
attention, perfected their plans for the
apprehension of the murderer, and
rode away, each man to his home,
none other than themselves being
aware of the fact that they had as-
sembled at all.

The dead society which they had thus
galvanized into life is perhaps worthy of
passing mention before proceeding to
the narration of what transpired subse-
quently.

"THE MOON'S ON THE LAKE, AND THE MIST ON THE BRAE;
AND THE CLAN HAS A NAME THAT IS NAMELESS BY DAY."

upon a time in Tennessee, and
possibly in some other states of the
South, there existed an order which was
called into being no one knew how,
created a great stir for a season, and

then died away as mysteriously as it had
originated. Its aims and purposes were
widely misrepresented and misunder-
stood, for while unique in its organiza-
tion and methods, it was, in the princi-

050

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

pal object sought to be attained, not
different from those voluntary associa-
tions which good citizens in many parts
of the wide country have often been com-
pelled to form when they found the law
in their particular locality insufficient
for the protection of life and property.
The order of which I write was known
to the general public at the time as the
Klu Klux Klan, or, more briefly, the
K. K. K., and was so obnoxious to those
in power during the carpet-bag reign in
Tennessee that it was a penitentiary
offense to belong to it; no citizen was
permitted to sit on a jury or give evi-
dence in court without swearing he was
in no way connected with it; and hostile
grand juries were given inquisitorial
powers in the effort to drag to light
the conspirators who assembled by night
at its summons and obeyed its unholy
mandate. Yet, in spite of all this ter-
rifying prosecution, perhaps to no small
extent in consequence of it, the mid-
night society grew and flourished apace,
and during the brief period of its exist-
ence exercised a profound influence, at
least, in those sections of the state to
which its operations were confined.

In its main purpose— the preservation
of order and the protection of life and
property — this society of the K. K. K.
did not differ, as I have said, from the
vigilance committees and other like
associations that at various times in our
history have been openly formed in many
of the states and territories of the Union.
Its grotesque methods, however, its
peculiar organization, and the mystery
by which it was enshrouded, distin-
guished it from all of these and gave
it a unique place in the history of such
popular movements. Yet, these pecul-
iarities were not, as may have been sup-
posed, the result of whim or caprice on
the part of its founders, but followed
necessarily from the troubled condition
of the times. The emergency that called
the association into life was such as
would have demanded anywhere the

banding together of orderly citizens for
their own protection, and yet an open
organization at the time was impossible,
and, had it been possible, would have
been far less effective than a widespread
secret order whose very existence could
not legally be proven and whose aims
could only be guessed at.

For two or three years immediately
following the Civil war, the situation in
middle Tennessee may be fairly de-
scribed as chaotic. Nearly all the white
men there capable of bearing arms had
sided with the South, and when those
who survived the struggle returned home
they found farms uncultivated, homes
devastated, cattle and work-stock con-
fiscated and the negroes emancipated.
More than this, they found themselves
disfranchised for their sins, the ballot in
the hands of their late slaves, and
William G. Brownlow in the governor's
chair. This meant to the recently dis-
loyal that they must look out for them-
selves, for they need expect neither aid
nor sympathy from those in their own
state who now held the whip-hand over
them. Parson Brownlow, as he was
familiarly termed, had been a noted
character in Tennessee for many years.
He was a man of personal integrity and
of active mind, but seemingly without
one drop of the milk of human kindness
in his composition. As editor of The
Knoxville Whig in the ante-bellum
days, he proved himself to be a master
of invective. Clinging with obstinacy to
his own views on all questions, through
the columns of his newspaper he berated
as scoundrels all who saw fit to differ
from him. If he had been domesticated
in midde or west Tennessee at the out-
break of the Civil War, he would have
most probably out-heroded Herod in his
advocacy of secession ; but, hailing from
the eastern division of the state, he was
a most bitter Unionist, and literally, by
means of his paper, ''dealt damnation
round the land on each he deemed his
foe." The restoration of federal author-

THE K. K. K.

651

ity in Tennessee found this honest but
exceedingly vindictive old man in the
governor's chair, and he was about as
much in place there as John Calvin
would have been over a congregation of
papists, or a devout Catholic ruler of
the sixteenth century over a colony of
heretics. When, soon after the close of
the war, a demand arose for the restora-
tion of the ex-( Confederates to their civil
rights, the governor of Tennessee replied
in a public speech that traitors to their
country had but two rights he was will-
ing to concede: one the right to be hung
in this world, the other the right to be
damned in the next. This characteristic
utterance at least was attributed to him
all over the state, and, taking their cue
from it, the carpet-baggers, scalawags
and such disorderly negroes as these
could influence ruled the roost in the
fairest portions of Tennessee. They ter-
rorized whole communities, and neither
life nor property was safe while their
sway continued, for none looked to the
laws as then administered to protect
good citizens under the ban of disloyalty
or to punish evildoers who vaunted them-
selves as friends of the government.

The better class of the negroes in the
state, to their credit be it said, did not
sympathize with the lawless element that
prevented their earning a support by
peaceful labor, but their quiet protest
was unheeded, as was that of the respect-
able white people among whom they
dwelt. The example of a few lawless
blacks in each community, however, soon
had its effect on others of their race, and
the idea gained ground rapidly among
the recently emancipated slaves of the
state that liberty meant unbridled license
and the freedom to do as they chose.
The times, indeed, were out of joint,
and the returning ex-Confederates, who
otherwise would easily have mastered the
situation, seemed powerless to restore
order. Nothing could be accomplished
by them without united effort, while any
open attempt on their part to organize

would, they knew, be regarded as an act
of treason, and the leaders of such a
movement subjected to instant arrest.
It was under these circumstances that —
whether in jest or earnest I cannot say —
the singular society known as the Klu
Klux Klan was mysteriously called into
being. The general understanding now
is that it originated as a practical joke
gotten up by a few mischievous ex-
rebels to frighten negroes and other
superstitious persons in their locality.
If so, the author of the plan must soon
have been astonished at the startling
proportions of the edifice of which they
had laid the foundation. Their queer
capers and ghostly garbs excited the ter-
ror of the negroes and induced them to
remain indoors after dark. Rumor ex-
aggerated their pranks, which doubtless
were mad enough in themselves. Their
example soon found imitators, and before
a great while serious men adopted the
fantastic idea and sought to apply it to
a useful end. A formidable secret so-
ciety was organized, numbering its
branches by the hundred and its mem-
bership by thousands. The strictest
secrecy on the part of the persons
connected with it was easily maintained,
since none of these dared to avow his
fellowship with the order. Ghostly rai-
ment and extravagant capers were found
to be really useful features, striking more
terror to the souls of the superstitious
Africans than could the substance of ten
thousand men armed in the proof. Per-
fect order throughout the entire organ-
ization was easily preserved, for nearly
all the members had been recently dis-
charged from the Southern army, and
their leaders in the main were those
whom they had followed through all the
weary and bloody campaigns of the
Civil War. Thus it came to pass that
almost in a night there sprang into ex-
istence on the soil of Tennessee the most
powerful and thoroughly disciplined
secret society that has ever been known
to exist on the American continent. Its

652

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

influence from the outset was wide-
spread and beneficent. Good people
breathed more freely when they knew
there was a klan in their midst able to
protect them, and the desperadoes who
had infested the country in most instan-
ces fled before they were actually appre-
hended or molested.

I have spoken of the organization of
the society as grotesque, and this was
certainly true. Not only were the most
astonishing performances among its regu-
lar exercises, but the titles bestowed on
all its officials were outlandish and pre-
posterous. The head or captain of each
separate band was styled ''The Grand
Cyclops of the Klan." Above him was
another official with a high-sounding
title, controlling a dozen klans or so,
and over all was the commander-in-
chief, who was impressively styled "The
Grand Dragon of the Realm." Each
separate company of mounted men was
called a "klan," and the men in the
ranks were designated as "hobgoblins."
The true name of the order was not
"The Klu Klux Klan," but the master
of ceremonies usually whispered instead
on initiation night some very long, hard
word in an unknown language, with a
supposed very deep meaning, which all
were forbidden to repeat and which none
ever could remember afterward.

The peculiar feature of this order,
however, and the one that distinguished
it from all similar associations that I
have read of, was a standing judicial
tribunal of three men, which formed part
of the organization of each "klan."
Without the order of this court — which,
if I am correctly informed, was termed
"The Dreadful Ulema" — no member of
the klan could be punished for infraction
of its rules, nor could any obnoxious
character in the community be made to
pay the penalty of his crimes. But for
this wise provision in the constitution of
the order, there can be no doubt that
many hasty acts of violence would have
been committed by the members in

different sections of the state. It must
be borne in mind that the leaders of the
movement desired especially to avoid
the commission of open deeds of vio-
lence, for a few such acts would have
drawn down upon them the condemna-
tion not only of the state, but also of the
federal government. All the operations
of the society were therefore conducted
with the utmost secrecy and circumspec-
tion and its members at all times sub-
jected to the strictest discipline. If one
was arrested whom they thought the com-
munity should be rid of, the offender
was not shot or strung up to a limb, but
taken before "The Dreadful Ulema" for
trial. The proceedings here were not
conducted in the actual presence of the
accused, and were usually brief, but
extreme punishment was never inflicted
if anything less would suffice. If the
prisoner was discharged without bodily
harm, as often happened, he could be-
tray no more than that he had been taken
at night by a company of very queer
creatures, had been instantly blind-
folded, and had been released after a
while, with the injunction to betake him-
self speedily to some other part of the
world. Sometimes this injunction was
preceded by the lash, which, you may
be sure, when ordered, was well laid on.
Sometimes, in very rare instances, it was
death. Then the community knew noth-
ing more of the matter than that a cer-
tain obnoxious individual had mysteri-
ously disappeared, and after diligent
search by his friends could not be found.
Whatever the sentence of "The Dread-
ful Ulema," it was obeyed; and without
its deliberate sentence none was ever
done to death or subjected to bodily
injury by members of the klan.
It may be inferred from what has gone
before that the author of this entertain-
ing narrative was himself at one time
connected with the secret order he has
sought to describe; and while he is far
from admitting such to be the fact, he
does not mind stating to the generous

THE K. K. K.

653

reader that he was at a certain mis-
guided period of his life an open enemy
of the best government the world ever
knew. He wore the gray, the author
did, during the years 1861-65 — and by
the way, a very ragged suit it was he
had on when the end came. Having
returned home in the latter year a sad-
der if not wiser man, and seeking to
earn a support by tilling his mother
earth, he found himself in the very
midst of the disorders of which he has
made mention and in the very locality
where hobgoblins by night did cavort.
This being so, and the author being
neither deaf, dumb, nor idiotic, he was
enabled to pick up a few scraps of infor-
mation, which he now with pleasure im-
parts to the curious reader. Following
the usual form of legal affidavits, he here
avouches that those things which he has
set down upon his own knowledge he
swears positively to be true, and those
things which he has set down upon in-
formation, he verily believes to be true,
and, drawing his conclusion from both
these sources, he wishes to go further
and make the deliberate statement which
is to be found in the following paragraph.
Though outlawed by the statutes of
Tennessee, and denounced in their day
from one end of the country to the other,
no association was ever formed in this
country with worthier motives than this
secret order of the K. K. K. No kind-
lier band of gentlemen ever assembled
after nightfall in the deep greenwood, or
rode in queer disguises the lonely high-
way by the friendly light of the moon.
There is a streak of humor running
all through the Southern character, as
plainly discernible to the eye of the
moralist as a vein of fine metal in a rock
to the skilled mineralist. The mystic
order of which I write never could have
come into being anywhere else except
among these people. It never could
have flourished as it did, mixing serious
business with horseplay, except among
these people. That just home from the

war, with their cause utterly lost, and
wreck and ruin about them, they were
able to extract fun at all from the situa-
tion, shows the wonderful elasticity of
the Southern temper. But they did, and
their merriment was honest merriment,
while their earnestness of purpose at the
same time, and along with it, was un-
questionable. Now that the queer order
is a thing of the past, and most of the
ghosts that formed its rank have gone to
genuine ghostland, I hope the reader
will pardon this effort to rescue its mem-
ory from undeserved reproach. The
author can say of a truth that while the
society existed in his locality, he never
knew human life taken by those subject
to its mandate, nor any man robbed of
his property, or any woman, white or
black, treated with disrespect. That the
hobgoblins when abroad were all armed
and knew how to handle their weapons
is not to be denied. That they were
determined to protect their homes and
loved ones and banish certain disorderly
characters from their midst is not to be
denied. Fortunately, the mystery that
surrounded the order, and the general
conviction that it was a powerful and
resolute brotherhood, sufficed in them-
selves to attain the ends it had in view,
and, this achieved, the members quietly
disbanded. The dawn of day was then
close at hand for Tennesseeans, the time
for the restoration of genuine peace had
come, and the secret order of the K. K.
K. disappeared from public notice as
mysteriously as it had been called into
being.

So it came about that when Randolph
Pearson and his companions met the
night after the Bascombe murder to form
a league for the preservation of order in
their midst, they adopted the constitu-
tion of the old order just described:

First, because they found it ready-
made, and were saved the trouble of
cudgeling their brains to devise another
that might not have answered so well.

Secondly, because the younger mem-

654

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

bers present were pleased with the fan-
tastic attire and grotesque ceremonies of
the order they were about to revive, and
hoped to extract some fun from a re-
newal of the same.

Thirdly, because Pearson and his com-
rades expected much good from the
clause that provided a permanent court
for the order. If this tribunal was com-
posed of temperate men, mob law, in its
most offensive sense, would be banished
from the community. The new klan
would be strong enough by prompt
action to take charge of all persons sus-
pected of heinous crimes, and no pun-
ishment would be inflicted until after a
deliberate hearing. When the murderer,
Ankerstrom, was apprehended, it would

be for the three judges to say whether
he should be put to death at once or
turned over to the regular state authori-
ties for trial. Pearson was fully resolved
that, if possible, the latter course should
be pursued. He knew the infuriated
people of his vicinity were bent on
stringing the wretch up as soon as they
laid hands on him, but he made up his
mind that when even so despicable a
villain came to pay the penalty of his
crimes, the sheriff of the county, and
none other, should act as hangman.

It was therefore with satisfaction that
Randolph Pearson, when the organiza-
tion was effected, accepted the position
of chief of the advisory court of the klan,
which was unanimously tendered him.

VII

YOUNG MR. TEMPLETON SALLIES FORTH TO UPHOLD THE
MAJESTY OF THE LAW, BUT COMES NEAR FORGETTING
THE ERRAND UPON WHICH HE IS BENT.

TEMPLETON, riding at a brisk gait,
covered the distance he had to travel
in about three hours, and reached the
county seat before noon. Going at once
to the jail — which contained apartments
for the sheriff's family, he found the
officer away, but his wife, a pleasant-
spoken woman, said he would return
some time during the day. Thinking it
advisable to await his coming, the young
man proceeded uptown, and, making the
necessary affidavit, procured a warrant
of arrest from a justice of the peace
against the absconding murderer. Plac-
ing this in his pocket so as to have it in
readiness when the sheriff returned, he
next inquired for the newspaper office of
the village. It was only a few yards fur-
ther off, on the same street, and drop-
ping in, he found a little old dried-up
man perched upon a high stool setting
type. As there was no other occupant

of the room, Templeton bowed to this
individual and politely inquired for the
editor.

"I'm him," replied the person ad-
dressed, without for a moment suspend-
ing the business he was at.

"Excuse me," said Templeton, po-
litely, "I mistook you for the printer."

"I'm him too," said the dried-up man
on the high stool, proceeding calmly with
his work.

"Oh," said Templeton. "I see how
it is. So you are both editor and prin-
ter, are you?"

"I'm the whole push," said the little
dried-up man, taking off his spectacles
now and wiping them with his handker-
chief. "I'm the establishment, that's
what I am," and he came down from his
stool, and walking up quite close to
where Templeton stood, he viewed him
critically. His manner would have been

'I'm the whole push,' said the little dried-up man'

Prawn by M. L. Blmnenthal

656

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

impertinent had not the visitor recog-
nized it as that of a man who was at the
same time both near-sighted and habitu-
ally on the hunt for an item.

"Whar you from?" inquired the
dried-up man, approaching as close to
Templeton as he could without treading
on the latter's toes. "What's the news?"

"I thought possibly," answered the
visitor, "that you might wish to know
something about the Bascombe murder."

"And the hanging of that nigger?"

"Yes."

"Got it all set up. Paper be out to-
morrow. Full confession and everything.
Whole thing in to-morrow's issue. Price,
five cents."

"Whose confession have you got in
the paper?" asked Templeton, turning
interrogator.

"The nigger's, of course. Whose
else could it be?"

"How do you know he confessed?"

"Oh, they always do; and if they
don't, we fix up one for 'em. Part of
our business, you know. We fix up one
for 'em and we fix it up right. The fel-
low that's hung ain't in a position to dis-
pute a word of it, and the fellows that
hung him they feel vindicated, and are
well pleased, and come round and sub-
scribe for the paper — see?"

"But, the fact is," said Templeton,
"the negro did not confess in this case,
as everybody knows. He died protest-
ing his innocence, and the old lady, Mrs.
Bascombe, revived before her death and
charged another man with her murder."

The little old dried-up man who said
he was the establishment here seized
Templeton by the arm, and, without a
word, dragged him to the rear of the
room.

"How's that? how's that?" then in-
quired the little dried-up man, cocking
his ear round curiously at the speaker.

"The negro made no confession; and
the old woman before she died charged
a white man with her murder."

The editor forced him to be seated on

an inverted goods box that stood near
a dingy window. Taking a stool himself
on the opposite side, he seized a lead
pencil and some sheets of crumpled
paper that were lying loose upon the
box. "Now go," he said to Templeton,
when these hurried preparations were
complete.

The visitor understood by this that he
was to proceed with his tale, which he
did in a plain, straightforward way, and
the combined editor and printer dashed
ahead, covering sheet after sheet of
paper, and so amplifying the details that
Templeton hardly recognized them when
the story came out in print twenty-four
hours later. When he finished — and he
wrote more rapidly than the speaker
could dictate — Templeton handed him
a dollar and asked him to mail copies of
his paper to different parts of the coun-
try, in order that the public might be
put on the watch for the murderer. The
dried-up man pocketed the dollar cheer-
fully, and, following his visitor to the
door, informed him confidentially that
just back of the town there was as good
a tree for the hanging business as heart
could wish, and when the real villain was
caught he would take pleasure in point-
ing it out. "I'll make it all right and
regular," he said to Templeton. "'Start-
ling confession — mob completely vindi-
cated. Tell 'em to have no fear on that
score."

Templeton thanked him for his kindly
assurance, and, having no further busi-
ness in the newspaper line, sought to
amuse himself by another stroll up and
down the streets while awaiting the re-
turn of the law officer. Desiring to in-
terest as many persons as possible in
the capture of the murderer, he told the
story of the crime to more than one
group of listeners, and soon the whole
village was familiar with the facts.

About sundown the sheriff came jog-
ging into town on a flea-bitten gray horse
and the warrant of arrest was handed
him. When he had read it he alighted

THE K. K. K.

657

in front of the store of Dixon & Dix —
he had been halted as he was passing
there — and, with the bridle rein over his
arm, perused the document again. Hav-
ing inspected it sufficiently, he looked
around over the little group that had
gathered about him and remarked:

"Well, consarn that fellow; I met him
just now in the road."

"Where? Where?" inquired several
of the bystanders at once.

The sheriff was a tall, thin man of
serious demeanor and slow-spoken. He
might have been mistaken for a preacher
but for the fact that most of the preach-
ers in those parts were Methodist circuit
riders who were not of austere deport-
ment, but usually chipper and free with
their jokes. Sanderson — that was the
sheriff's name — was a man of subdued
manner, and though not unsociable or
uncommunicative, was inclined to take
life solemnly.

"Where did you meet him?" they in-
quired again.

"Back yonder in the road," replied
the sheriff, meditatively turning the
paper over in his hand as he spoke.

"What did he say?"

"Nothin' much, nothin' much. We
howdied, and talked a little about one
thing and another. Well, consarn that
fellow." The sheriff here whistled softly
between his teeth for a while and then
inquired : "Who swore out this warrant,
anyhow? Who is R. L. Templeton? I
thought I knew every man in the county,
but he's a new one on me."

"I'm Robert Lee Templeton," said
the young gentleman, coming to the
front. "I swore out that warrant."
"You swore it out?"

"Yes, on the statement of the old
lady, Mrs. Bascombe."

"This nigger that was hung," said
the sheriff, eyeing him critically, "what
did he have to do with it?"

"Nothing in the world," the young
man answered. "He was hung under a
mistake. There was great excitement,

and no legal officer to take charge of the
investigation, so they hung him without
inquiring fully into the matter. It was
just an excited mob, with nobody in
control. I was there, and "

The sheriff looked at him inquisitively.

"I was there," pursued Templeton.
"but I didn't have anything to do with
the hanging. I— I, in fact, was opposed
to it."

"You stick to that, young man," said
the sheriff, gravely, because there's a
law in this country."

Templeton hesitated at this and dis-
played some embarrassment. He was
among strangers, and could not tell what
construction they might put on his ad-
missions.

'/You just happened in, I s'pose,"
suggested the sheriff, "not knowin' what
was on the bills?"

"That was just about the way of it,"
replied Templeton.

"And being there from curiosity, or
in some such fashion, you was bound to
see things without takin' a hand in 'em?"

Templeton acquiesced in this, feeling
that it did not express the entire truth,
but was sufficient for the occasion.

"Now you stick to that," said the
sheriff, raising a long forefinger and
pointing it at him warningly, "because
there's a law in this country."

Those present eyed the young man
closely, and several nodded gravely to
signify that the sheriff had given him
good advice, which it would be well for
him to heed.

After whistling again for a little while
softly between his teeth, the officer re-
mounted his flea-bitten gray nag and
turned its head in the direction from
which he had come. "I'm a-going after
this here Dutchman," he remarked to
those present. "Does anybody care to
go along?"

Two or three volunteered, among them
Mr. Bob Lee Templeton. Darkness was
enveloping the earth as they wound their
way down from the eminence on which

658

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

the town of Ashton stood. It was now
Monday night and forty-eight hours after
the burning of the Bascombe house.

"He must be doubling on his tracks,"
said the sheriff after they had proceeded
some distance in silence. "Looks that
way to me.' '

"Why doesn't he try to get out of the
country?" asked Templeton, who was
riding by the officer's side. "I don't un-
derstand his hanging around here this
way."

"Well, you see," replied Sheriff San-
derson, "the nigger's been hung, which
shows pretty conclusively that folks took
him for the guilty party. The old woman,
though, didn't die right away, and
she might tell tales before she died. So
Cross-eyed Jack just dodged out of sight,
bobbing up at first one place and then
another to make believe he wasn't hid-
ing. That is the way I happened to
meet him in the road."

"He'll find out pretty soon that the
world knows the truth. Then he'll leave
the country in a hurry."

"Maybe he will, maybe he will," re-
sponded the sheriff, dubiously. ' 'There's
no telling."

"I thought the instinct of a criminal
was to flee as far as possible from the
scene of his crime?"

"That was in the old time, when a fel-
low had only to outrun them that was be-
hind. Now they send telegrams on
ahead, and then follow on his track by
rail. The sharp rascals understand this
and their usual plan is to lie low until the
hue and cry dies out, and then steal off
as quietly as they can. .1 knew a fellow
once," pursued the sheriff, growing rem-
iniscent, "that robbed a mail train. He
was a boss hand at his trade, that fellow
was. One night he bought a ticket for
some place and boarded the train like
any other passenger. When they had
gone a few miles he rose and went for-
ward to the express car. The agent was
sitting by the table, and there was a load-
ed pistol in the drawer, within reach of

his hand. He'd been told aways to keep
a loaded pistol in that drawer, and he al-
ways kept it there. He was sitting by
the table adding up a long column of fig-
ures. When he looked up he saw a man
standing in the door with a shiny pistol
pointed straight toward him. The man's
aim was very steady and his voice very
calm as he told the agent to rise and fetch
him the money bag. The agent was in
the habit of obeying orders, and he obey-
ed orders this time. So would you if had
been in his place. He picked up the bag
and such other things as he was bidden to
pick up, and laid them down in a pile
close to the stranger's feet. Then he
went under orders to a corner of the car
and stood there with his back to the
stranger and his nose stuck as far into
the corner as he could get it. The
stranger pulled the bell cord and the train
stopped. The stranger jumped off with
his bags, and the agent explained to the
conductor as soon as he got a chance.
They searched high and low, and they
sent for bloodhounds, but they didn't
catch the stranger. The bloodhounds got
on the track of a nigger fiddler and run
him five miles and treed him, but that
didn't help the situation much. Big re-
wards were offered, and the police picked
up a dozen different fellows in a dozen
different towns, but they didn't get the
right man. Where was he? Why, he
didn't go a mile from the place of the
robbery before he stopped and went into
camp. He picked a snug, out-of-the-way
place, close to water and lived on scant
rations there two or three weeks. Then
he walked away and got clear out of the
country without trouble.
"How did you find all this out? "
"Why, in the easiest way imaginable.
As soon as the fellow got a long way off
from the scene of his crime, and thought
he was entirely safe, he treated himself
to a big drunk. It was in Kansas City,
and as he undertook to run the town, the
police locked him up. • They found three
or four pistols on him, and more than a

THE K. K. K.

659

thousand dollars in money. Being a
stranger, they ask him where he came
from. He told them a lie, and a rather
clumsy lie, being drunk. To make a long
story short, they held him a few days on
suspicion, and then, having obtained
sufficient evidence, sent him back to Ten-
nessee to answer for the train robbery.
He pleaded guilty when his trial came
and took fifteen years in the penitentiary.
He's there now, I reckon, and a very so-
ciable fellow he is, barring his trade."

As the sheriff beguiled the journey with
this narrative, the flea-bitten gray horse
went steadily along at a fox trot toward
the spot where his rider had encountered
Cross-eyed Jack the evening before.
After the lapse of an hour or more they
reached the place, which Sanderson
pointed out to his companions. They
made a brief halt here and then followed
on down the road in the direction the
murderer had taken.

"Maybe he's found out by this time
he's badly wanted, and maybe he hasn't,' '
said the sheriff, musingly. "I don't
think he knew it just now, or he would
have tried to dodge when he met me un-
expectedly on the road. No telling,
though; no telling. Some criminals are
naturally scary, and some are bold as
the devil. Maybe he knew the truth was
out, but counted on my not knowing it."

It was now past nine o'clock, but the
stars were all shining, and they made
their way without difficulty. The sheriff,
after narrating the incident from his per-
sonal experience just given, lapsed into
silence and began whistling softly be-
tween his teeth, which was a way he had
when he was cogitating.

Presently they heard galloping horse-
men behind them. They reined up,
and in a few minutes a half dozen
young farmers joined them. These
riders had searched the country far and
near for Cross-eyed Jack, they said, but
had discovered no certain trace of him.
Some person answering his general des-
cription had passed along the road they

were now traveling, but they were not
sure it was the scoundrel they were look-
ing for. An imprudent member of the
sheriff's squad informed them that it was
certainly Ankerstrom who had walked
boldly along the highway a few hours
before, and on receipt of this news they
stayed no further question, but set out
at once to overtake him. "We've got a
rope," said one of the party as they sep-
arated, "and we mean to hang theracsal
as soon as we lay hands on him."

"There's a law in this country, gentle-
men," remonstrated the sheriff, gently.

"So there is," replied the fellow, "and
the very minute we are through with
Cross-eyed Jack we'll turn him over to
the law. You may have his corpse, San-
derson, if you want it."

Going some distance farther, the sheriff
and his friends came to a large frame
house by the roadside. It was lit up in-
vitingly, and from within floated the
pleasant voice of a young lady singing to
an accompaniment upon the piano. Here
they halted, the sheriff said, to make in-
quiries.

" 'Light, gentlemen, ' light! " cried a
rather portly old gentleman, advancing
briskly to the front gate.

" Haven't time," responded the sheriff;
"haven't time, major."

" 'Light, 'light!" persisted the old gen-
tleman, who from his hearty voice and
manner evidently meant what he said.

"Get down and come in, one and all.
Come in all of you and stay all night."

"Haven't time," responded the sher-
iff; "haven't time, major."

"Get down," reiterated the old man,
as if he hadn't heard the officer. "Get
down and come in, gentlemen. Here,
Bill, Jim !" lifting his voice so as to be
heard all over his premises. "Come
right along, you lazy rascals, and take
these horses."

"Well," remarked the sheriff at this,
"I reckon we'd as well surrender," and
he alighted from the flea-bitten gray,
the tired animal giving itself a good

66o

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

shake as soon as he quitted the
saddle.

A sleepy looking negro fellow now
made his appearance, followed soon by
another, and the horses were led to the
stable. The music ceased as they drew
near the house, and quite a stylish look-
ing young lady made her appearance in
the front door. Templeton had begun
to regret that his zeal in behalf of justice
had prompted him to take such a weari-
some night ride, but now, beholding the
stylish young lady, and being young and
rather susceptible, he congratulated him-
self that he had come along with the
sheriff.

After a hearty welcome had been ex-
tended all round, and an ample supper
partaken of, the major, the sheriff and two
or three other members of the posse
comitatus engaged in friendly conversa-
tion on the front porch, while Templeton
and the young lady drifted accidentally

into the parlor, where they soon became
quite congenial. It was, of course, the
duty of the young lady to assist her fath-
er in the entertainment of his guests, and
being a very conscientious girl, and a
very capable one to boot, she discharged
her duty on this particular occasion so
thoroughly that I am quite sure no feel-
ing of self-reproach disturbed her after
she had bidden her visitor a pleasant
adieu for the night. As for Mr. Tem-
pleton, I speak nothing to his discredit
when I say that before the young lady
rose and bade him goodnight he had en-
tirely forgotten the matter that had
brought him to the house, and after seek-
ing his couch and sinking into the kind-
ly arms of Morpheus, he dreamed not of
Cross-eyed Jack or the gallows-tree but
of a certain fresh young face that was fair
to see, and his slumbering soul was
soothed by the music of a voice ever soft
and low, an excellent thing in woman.

VIII

IN WHICH THERE IS GREAT CRY AND LITTLE WOOL

THE next morning early Sheriff Sander-
son took a turn about the place to see
if he could learn anything as to the where-
abouts of the slippery individual for
whom he had a writ of arrest. He found
the negroes all posted concerning the
hasty hanging of poor Sandy, and the
discovery of his complete innocence after
the mischief had been done and could
not be undone. They were informed, too,
as to the active part Cross-eyed Jack had
taken in the proceedings, and from the ru-
mors that had reached their ears were dis-
posed to saddle on the shoulders of this
villain the responsibility for all that had
taken place. A few of them knew the fel-
low by sight, but most of them did not
and had no desire to cultivate his acquain-
tance. They regarded him now as more

devil than human, and feared it was his
purpose to lie concealed for a while, and
then bob up somewhere unexpectedly
and in their midst with his appetite
whetted for murder.

"You mout as well s'arch for a needle
in a haystack," said a wise old darkey,
"as try to find that furriner twell he git
ready to make hisself known ag'in.
He's hid out somewhar, round here, and
jess zactly whar he is de good Lord I
specks knows, but I doesn't. Mebbe he
done gone in a hole and pulled the hole
in after him."

At this not very original attempt at
humor the old man laughed heartily, and
Sheriff Sanderson, who was polite to high
and low, laughed too. "I'm inclined to
think you're right, Uncle Davy," he

THE K. K. K.

66 1

answered, "about his being hid out
round here somewhere, but the devil is
more apt to know where he is than the
good Lord."

"Dat's the trufe," responded the old
man, shaking his head and laughing

again.

'Dat's as true a word, marster,

as ever you spoke. Dis here Cross-eyed
Jack and de devil is buzzum friends, an'
dat why he ain gwy be so easy kotch.
When I was a little boy in Firginny I
heerd talk of a flyin 'Dutchman dat was
buzzum friend to the devil, and dat
Dutchman dey never could ketch. Folk
seed him, but when they come to lay
hand on him he wa'n't thar."

"Mebbe dis here's de flyin' Dutch-
man," said a little negro boy who had
been an interested listener to the conver-
sation.

"Son," rejoined the old man, solemn-
ly, "I got de same notion in my own
head. Las' time de moon was on de
change I dream 'bout dis flyin' Dutch-
man, and de nex' news I heerd Sandy
Kinchen was dead and gone."

The breakfast bell now rang loudly,
and Sheriff Sanderson returned toward
the dwelling-house of Major Habersham,
having elicited no information of conse-
quence from the negroes on the place.
When he reached the mansion house, he
found the squad which had ridden by him
the night before was on hand, awaiting
breakfast. They were all weary and hun-
gry, but brought no tidings of the miss-
ing man. He had vanished completely
after his chance interview with the
sheriff on the preceding afternoon, and
nothing could be learned of his subse- '
quent course, except that he did not keep
to the highway. When Sanderson heard
this he announcd his intention to return
home, and advised the rest of the posse
to do the same thing, as the rascal they
were in search of was probably out of
the neighborhood by that time. The fact
was the sheriff had concluded that no
matter where Ankerstrom was, the search
for him should be conducted by quiet

effort that would not alarm him. He
therefore deemed it best to act as if he be-
lieved the fellow was not in the country,
and at the same time to keep an inces-
sant watch for him, so as to be certain not
to miss him if he proved to be still lurk-
ing about in the vicinity of his crime.

At the breakfast table the whole array,
some twenty hungry souls in all, were
sumptuously entertained upon fried
chicken, hot biscuits, strong coffee, rich
sweet milk and other acceptable eatables
and drinkables; and not having a cent
to pay, arose from the feast with charity
for all and malice toward none, except
Johan Ankerstrom, who was mysteriously
at large and would not give himself to be
hung. As they mounted and rode off,
they bade goodbye to all, and received
cordial adieus in return from the mem-
bers of the family, excepting Matilda the
housemaid, who was distant in her man-
ners. Sheriff Sanderson, on his fox-
trotting nag, was among the last of the
party to leave the premises. When he
had departed no one was left behind ex-
cept Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, who still
lingered with the major and his daughter
at the front gate.

Mr. Templeton lingered at the front
gate because he had a different route to
travel from that pursued by the others,
being bound now for his home in the ad-
joining country. He lingered also be-
cause he found himself in pleasant com-
pany, and one as a rule does not like to
leave pleasant company. As he stood
at the gate chatting and exchanging
pleasant remarks, preparatory to taking
his departure, the major suggested that
it would be better for him to remain over
that day and take a fresh start next morn-
ing. Mr. Templeton replied firmly that
he had pressing business awaiting him at
home and was bound to go. The major
in rejoinder said that he, Templeton, must
be somewhat fatigued from the travel of
the preceding day, and his steed like-
wise must be off his mettle, and therefore
not in trim for another day's ride. Mr.

662

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

Templeton in sur-rejoinder admitted that
his nag might be leg-weary from the pre-
vious day's use, but insisted that his
business at home was of such a pressing
nature that he must go forward at once
and look after it.

As Mr. Templeton thrust aside the
major's urgent invitation to abide longer
under his roof, and was in the very act
of lifting the latch of the front gate pre-
paratory to passing out and riding away,
it so chanced that he caught the eye of
the major's daughter. Miss Polly Haber-
shamhad previously seconded the request
of her father that he should postpone his
departure till the following morning, but
she had done this in such a nonchalant,
off-hand fashion that the guest didn't
really believe she meant what she said.
At least he had been impelled by her in-
different manner to the conclusion that
she didn't seriously care whether he went
or stayed. Now, however, as he lifted
the latch of the gate, turning his head
slightly to one side at the same time, it
came to pass that— as the saying goes —
he caught her eye. Precisely what he
read there I'm not able to inform you,
but certain it is that the very moment he
caught her eye his fingers relaxed their
hold upon the gate latch.

"Stay, stay," persisted the major.
"If you start for home dead tired, you
won't be in any fix to attend to business
when you get there."

"One day more won't hurt," said the
young lady, in the same careless tone
she had used before. Then she leaned
her elbow on the top plank of the yard
fence and gave the young man what they
call an expressive glance.

"Major," said Mr. Bob Lee Templeton,
impulsively, to the head of the establish-
ment," I'll be candid with you, sir. I
would like the best in the world to stop
over with you another day, and I'm go-
ing to tell you why. Last night, sir, you
delivered, as I am informed, an excellent
discourse to some of the gentlemen of
my company upon the state of the coun-

try at large, and I have therefore con-
cluded to stop over, and — ah — inform
myself."

"Quite right, quite right," quoth the
major, heartily. "How can a man vote
intelligently if he doesn't inform him-
self?"

"I should say so," chimed in Miss
Polly Habersham. "It seems to me, if
I were a man, and couldn't inform my-
self before offering to vote, I wouldn't
vote at all."

The young gentleman's perfect candor
on this occasion made a favorable im-
pression on the major, as perfect candor
aways has done and always will any-
where in this deceitful world. The
horse that had stood at the rack was sent
back to the stable, and Mr. Templeton' s
contemplated journey homeward was
postponed till next morning.

Several lectures were delivered by the
major in the course of the day on the sub-
ject of the state of the country at large,
to all of which his visitor gave flattering
heed. At odd times he relieved his mind
by light discourse with Miss Polly, who,
though not as deeply learned in statecraft
as her father, proved herself to be fairly
entertaining in her way. With music and
chat, strolls and all that, she and the
stranger within her gates whiled away the
time till the sun went down and the stars
peeped out and the lamp-lit hours slipped
blissfully by, and the evening and the
morning were the first day.

When Mr. Bob Lee Templeton did
mount his horse the next morning, and
did ride away from the premises, he felt
exactly as if he was leaving old and dear
friends behind. The major remarked to
his daughter that the young gentleman
was a very promising pupil, and would
soon come to know as much about the
state of the country as he himself did.
And the daughter remarked to her father
that he was a nice young man to boot,
and quite a pleasant addition to her list
of acquaintances. Uncle Davy, the hos-
tler, publicly proclaimed that the depart-

THE K. K. K.

663

ed guest was the most thorough gentle-
man who had visited the place since Miss
Polly came on the carpet. "I'm gwy tell
you how I know," said the old man,
"and den yo bound to own I 'm right.
Bekase when I hilt de horse for him to
mount he gin me a dollar. Right dar is
whar he showed his raisin'. A picay-
uny white man would gin me a dime, or
mebby if Miss Polly had made him feel
right proud o' hisseff, he mout a squeezed
out a quarter. A tolerable nice beau
would er let a half-dollar or sich matter
slip through his fingers, but this here up-
headed young marster he pitched me a
dollar like he used to flingin' away mon-
ey. Hit minded me of the old times way
back yander in Firginny, when my young
marster went callin' on de ladies in his
gig, and I tuck de middle of de road on
a high-steppin' horse behind him, bofe
un us dressed to kill. Lord, Lord, dem
was de days when quality folks walked
right over poor white trash, and gentle-
man's body sarvant didn't bemean his-
self by no kind of labor.'"

Sheriff Sanderson, as he took his way
homeward, laid plots in his mind for the
capture of the fugitive murderer, and de-
viated more than once from his direct
path to put this or that trusty friend of
his on the lookout. A good reward had
been offered for the apprehension of the
absconding scoundrel, and if there had
been none at all the whole community
was bent on catching him if he stayed
above the ground. Randolph Pearson in
his quiet way rendered the law officer ail
the aid that was possible under the cir-
cumstances. The members of his newly
organized band were assigned to duty
wherever it was thought they could be of
service, and a general and systematic
search was instituted throughout the en-
tire country. Telegrams were sent off to
distant parts, letters were written giving
a full description of the person of the
murderer, and the police in many differ-
ent cities were notified that a cross-eyed

villain, called Johan Ankerstrom, was
badly wanted in the Marrowbone Hills,
and a round sum of money would be paid
for his apprehension.

But though the sheriff kept his eyes
open, and his ears open for several succes-
sive days, and Pearson and the members
of his vigilant band did the same thing,
and numerous noisy volunteers with dogs
and ropes scoured the country, not a
thing could be learned of the whereabouts
of the slippery individual they were
anxiously seeking. The impression
came to be general that he had gotten
entirely away, and would have to be
sought for in some other part of the
world. The sheriff reached this conclu-
sion and announced it to his coadjutors
over the country. The vigorous search
was almost abandoned, and the minds of
the people were becoming gradually oc-
cupied with other matters, when sudden-
ly an incident occurred that at once threw
the whole community again into the
wildest excitement.

At a lonely farm house some distance
away from any public road, there lived a
man named Hopson, with his wife and
three small children. The poor man was
a consumptive, too much debilitated to
perform manual labor. He lived in a
small cottage sadly out of repair, and pos-
sessed almost nothing in the way of
worldly goods. Indeed, his lot was one
of such bitter poverty that but for the
charity of his kind neighbors he and his
household must often have suffered for
the necessaries of life. The folk about
him, though, were very attentive to his
wants, and the Hopson s were worthy
people who deserved all the sympathy
that was accorded them. The good wife,
Martha Ann Hopson, was a cheerful and
industrious body, laying to with a will
at some kind of work every day, and
skimping all around in the mangementof
household affairs as only a hard-pressed
woman can.

A basket meeting had been going on
for two or three days at a church not far

"He motioned toward the bare table"

THE K. K. K.

665

from the Hopson place of abode, and
Mrs. Hopson with her three young child-
ren had managed to attend the place of
worship, the elder boy, a lad of nine
years, remaining at home with his father.
On the last day of the meeting, after din-
ner, some charitable soul proposed that
the fragments be gathered up and donat-
ed as a lot to Sister Hopson. This prop-
osition meeting with universal favor,
several baskets of provisions were taken
by zealous friends that afternoon to the
Hopson place. The good woman's cup-
board was not only rilled to overflowing,
but many tempting things were left over,
and these the three children set to work
to devour, in order that nothing might be
wasted. The two younger, having sur-
feited at the basket meeting, could not
accomplish much in furthering this frugal
intent, but the older boy did his duty
nobly. He disposed, indeed, of such a
qnantity and so great a variety of edibles
that when he retired to bed he displayed
symptoms of uneasiness that did not fail
to catch the ear of his vigilant mother.

It was owing to the above circuum-
stance, as she afterward related, that she
was unusually wakeful on this particular
night. A little after midnight, hearing
some disturbance among the fowls in the
yard, she arose and started forth to in-
vestigate. The murder at the Bascombe
place — not above four miles away — had
made her nervous, and she undid the
bolt softly and peeped out of doors be-
fore venturing beyond the protection of
her roof. As she did so a man with a
long knife confronted her, pushing the
door open with his unoccupied hand in
spite of such feeble resistance as she
could make. She retreated a few steps
and, following her into the room, he or-
dered her in gruff tones to strike a light.
This command she promptly obeyed,
making no outcry, for she knew that
neither her little children nor her weak
husband could render her any assistance.
When the lamp was lit she saw that the
rude intruder had unusally long arms for

a man of his stature. He was barehead-
ed; his uncombed hair was filled with
small particles of leaves and dry twigs,
and she shuddered when she observed
that his eyes were badly crossed, for then
she knew she stood before the demon
who had burned the Bascombe house and
murdered the good old woman who dwelt
there. He carried now in his hand a
common tobacco knife, but as these are
intended to sever at a stroke the tough
stalk of the plant, he could not have pro-
cured a more dangerous weapon. Rais-
ing his hand in a threatening manner he
demanded food, and the poor woman
without hesitation opened the door of
her cupboard and showed him all her
precious supply.

When she had disclosed her stores to
his greedy eyes, the villain motioned
with his sharp knife toward the bare
table, and understanding this to be direc-
tion to place food thereon she brought an
abundant supply and covered the board
with victuals of every description. While
she was thus engaged her husband began
to cough, and the murderer went on tip-
toe to the bed, and displaying the keen
blade of his knife, commanded him to
lie back on his pillow, to which order the
poor sufferer yielded trembling obedi-
ence. The three children all slept in a
trundle bed together, and it was evident
from the agitation of the cover that they
were now awake, though dreadful fear
kept them all as still as mice. From be-
neath a corner of the thin cover one eye
of the little girl might have been noted,
keeping constant watch upon her mother
as she moved about the room. Now did
the brutal scoundrel seat himself at table,
and, without ceremony or compunction,
proceed to devour like a ravenous animal
such things as had been set before him.
While with both hands he conveyed bits
of food to his mouth, his hungry eyes
roved over the numerous other good
things with which the board was spread.
When he had stuffed himself to his satis-
faction, he rose, and taking from the

666

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

shelf a figured bedspread, which was the
poor woman's pride, he opened it upon
the floor and piled promiscuously on it as
much food of every description as he
couid pack off. Going then up to the
wife and mother, he held his sharp knife
close to her throat, while a murderous
gleam lit up his tangled eyes. He spoke
no word, but she said afterward that he
somehow conveyed to her his meaning —
that they had better remain perfectly still
in the house after his departure or he
would return and destroy the entire fam-
ily. Then he went away, carrying his
entire stock of provisions on his
shoulder.

They were all hushed for hours after
he had left; indeed, they did not dare to
stir until the darkness of night had fled
and the sun of the following day was
high in the heavens. Then, one of the
neighbors happening to drop in, the fear-
ful tale was told, the alarm was given,
and the whole community again was
thrown into fierce convulsion.

A great crowd in a few hours thronged
and surged about the Hopson cottage
as it had surged about the Bascombe
place a fortnight before, when the old
lady lay dying in the yard. Great was
the tumult, loud and angry were the
voices that arose on all sides, but vain
was the endeavor to trace the midnight
robber to his den, which, they knew,
could not be far from the scene of his
persistent outrages. The sheriff came as
soon as he heard of the affair and began
a fresh search, but could not unravel the
mystery of the outlaw's lurking-place.
Barns, haystacks, hollow trees, every
possible place of concealment was sub-
jected to minute scrutiny, but none gave
up the villain whom all were seeking.
No trace of the robber, house-burner and
murderer could be found, and a feeling
akin to consternation spread itself abroad
in the community. None could guess

into whose house the deadly scoundrel
would next seek to thrust his ugly visage
at night without warning. Doors and
shutters were fast bolted when the sun
went down, and not opened again during
the dark hours except at the summons of
some well-known voice from without.

The negroes of the vicinity were, of
course, more demoralized than the white
people, and apprehension of being con-
fronted with the now famous murderer
acccompanied them at every turn. In
the somewhat lonely cabin of Patsy Kin-
chen there was especial trepidation, for
the widow of the late Sandy was con-
vinced the murderous foreigner had sworn
vengeance in his wicked heart against
the entire Kinchen family.

"I done told Pete," said Patsy, the
lad's mother, to Pearson, when the lat-
ter stopped one day to see how they were
getting on, in their new abode — "I done
told Pete not for to go meanderin' up
and down de country wid no business on
his mind, but to take the warnin' by his
daddy which is dead and gone, Lord help
his soul! If Sandy had been in de bed
dat night, whar he oughter been, he
wouldn't a got kotched out from home
and hung. 'Stidder dat he must be up
and gvvine, bound for nowhares in parti-
cular, with dat little dog, Jineral Beaure-
gard, at his heels. As for dat dog, Marse
Ran, I hates to say a hard word of de
dog, but he never set no good example
for Sandy, and he don't exercise de right
kind of influence over my boy now, no
he don't. De dog ain't feerd of noth-
in', and Pete he ain't feerd of nothin', so,
spite of all I kin do and say, here dey
bofe goes, up and down, and cross coun-
try, and everywheres. One of dese days
—mind what I tell you— in some out-of-
de-way place, with nobody else in hol-
lerin' distance, dey gwy run right slap
on dat Flyin' Dutchman. Den whar'll
they be?"

[To Be Continued]

T H

H O M

LEAVES FROM AN OLD ALBUM
By Junia McKinley

ATLANTA, GEORGIA

IN a quaint, old-fashioned album, owned by
an intimate friend of President Roosevelt's
mother in her girlhood, are inscriptions by
many of his maternal relatives. Among the
first pages is found a favorite selection by
his mother, Martha Bulloch, signed "Mittie,"
her pet household name, and after that,
verses by his aunt, Anna L. Bulloch ( after-
ward Mrs. James K. Gracie of New York)
and a little verse with affectionate counsel
signed "M. B.," inscribed by Martha Bulloch
the elder, who was the president's grand-
mother. Further on are some original verses
by Stewart Elliott, half-uncle of President
Roosevelt. In the album are inscriptions
original and quoted, by noted southern
bishops, clergymen, statesmen and men of
letters, and representative women of the old

South " before the war," written in the early
fifties by people of the same exclusive social
class to which the Bullochs of Georgia be-
longed.

Both Mittie ( Martha ) and Anna Bulloch
were noted beauties and their favorite selec-
tions in verse were written in girlhood days
in their girl friend's album while she was a
Summer guest at Bulloch Hall, the family
residence in Roswell, Georgia. The Bulloch
girls were members of a strict Presbyterian
household, where all the children were reared
to care for the spiritual in contradiction to
worldly aims in life. So, in these lines writ-
ten by the young girls, it seems that all the
glories of that glorious southern Summer,
the bright days under cloudless skies, in
sweet companionship with cherished friends,
only reminded them of the deeper things of
life and the joys of immortality. Truly were
they lovely, dutiful and good, those gentle
southern girls whose years of womanhood
were- destined to leave national impress.
Mittie Bulloch, beautiful and queenly, to be
blessed among women as the mother of a

PHOTOGRAPHIC FACSIMILE OF VERSES WRITTEN IN AN OLD ALBUM BY PRESIDENT ROOS-
EVELT'S MOTHER HALF A CENTURY AGO.

668

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

<7 "

&£<<3

•I**-*

-e^i~-*<o~j

. <^y<*s£L S3 ' S 4 3 $

PHOTOGRAPHIC FACSIMILE OF VERSES AND PROSE INSCRIBED IN AN OLD ALBUM BY THE

PRESIDENT'S GRANDMOTHER

great ruler whose name as president of the
United States of America is honored among
the nations of the earth.

Below are given selections from the old-
fashioned memory book. Every page is full
of the tender grace of the beautiful long ago,
the balmy breathings of the fragrant blossom,
love, "that, watered by the dews of loveliness
and thought, maketh glad the garden of the
heart."

The purity and delicacy of the favorite
verses signed Mittie Bulloch reflect the
character of the writer:

" I wouldst that thou mightst ever be

As beautiful as now;
That time would ever leave as free

Thy yet unwritten brow.
I would life were all poetry,

To gentle measures set;
That naught but chastened melody

Should dim thine eyes of light.

I would — but deeper things than these

With woman's love are wove;
Wrought by intenser sympathy and nerved

by deeper love.
By the strong spirit's discipline,

By the fierce wrong forgiven;
By all that wins the heart from sin

Is woman won to heaven.
The silver stars may purely shine,

The waters taintless flow,
But they who kneel at Woman's shrine

Breathe on it as they bow:
They may fling back the gift again
But the crushed flower will leave a stain."

[Inscribed by Martha Bulloch, mother of President
Roosevelt.]

Then comes the little verse and af-
fectionate advice to her daughter's cher-
ished friend, and hers, signed M. B.
( Martha Bulloch ) grandmother of the
president :

THE HOME

669

" The object of our fancied joys
With eager eye we keep in view;

Possession, when acquired, destroys
The object, and the passion too.

"This, dear young friend, is true when the
object is entirely of a worldly nature. But
let your object reach higher than earth, and
your aspirations be elevated and spiritual,
and you will find that you will never experi-
ence disappointment in pursuit, or dissatis-
faction in enjoyment."

M. B.
Roswell, July 13, 1853.

[Inscribed by Martha Bullock the elder, the Presi-
dent's grandmother.]

A few pages more, and one finds these
lines inscribed by Anna L. Bulloch, written
on that fair mid-Summer day so long ago,
when all the beauty of blue skies and frag-
rant flowers seemed to her a radiant promise
of never ending joy:

1 The earth, all light and loveliness, in Sum-
mer's golden hour

Smiles in her bridal vesture clad, and crown-
ed with festal flowers

So radiantly beautiful, so like to heaven
above,

We scarce can deem more fair that world of
perfect bliss and love.

"Is this a shadow faint and dim, of that

which is to come?
What shall the unveiled glories be of our

celestial home,
Where waves the glorious tree of life, where

streams of bliss gush free,
And all is glowing in the light of immortality?

"To see again the home of youth, when
weary years have passed,

Serenely bright, as when we turned and
looked upon it last,

To hear the voice of love, to meet the rap-
turous embrace,

To gaze through tears of gladness on each
dear, familiar face.

"Oh! this indeed is joy, though here we meet
again to part,

But what transporting bliss awaits the pure
and faithful heart,

Where it shall find the loved and lost, those
who have gone before,

Where every tear is wiped away, where part-
ings come no more."

Roswell, July ijth, 1853.

ANNA L. BULLOCH.

[Inscribed by Anna L. Bulloch, President Roosevelt's
only maternal aunt.]

It remained for Stewart Elliott, half-
brother of Mittie Bulloch, and son of former
United States Senator Elliott, to give almost
the only gleam of humor in the whole album in
the following original verses written " just to
please the girls" and signed Mathew Mattox.

THE MATHEMATICIAN TO HIS LOVE.

ADDRESS OF

I. PERBER LOYDE, ESQ., TO Miss
POLLY NORMAL

Oh Polly Normal, cruel damsel,
Whene'er I ask you to be mine
You straightway fly off at a tangent
And leave the room without a sine.

"Go mind my Ps and Qs," you murmur,
" Make myself minus, vanish, fly."
Why P and Q ? in this equation
There enters only U and I ? ! !

Behold these features thin and wasted
Eliminating day by day
In geometrical progression,
Fractions vanishing away.

'Tis love for thee that has reduced me
To lowest terms — so thin and spare,
No longer rational — a surd!
I! that was once a perfect square !

When weary day with feeble step
Hath gone to rest in evening's lap,
No sleep for me — oh monstrous thought!
I. Perber Loyde without a nappe!

I and U and all the world
Am less than — o ( minus sign )
A function indeterminate
As x or y ( let xy = 9).

Then cease this method of exhaustion ;
Extract the root of fell suspense
From my poor bosom, darling Polly!
And list to love and common sense.

MATHEW MATTOX,

Author of the "Differential Calculus in
Hexameter."

[Inscribed by Stewart Elliott, half-brother of Martha
Bulloch Roosevelt, the president's mother.]

Further on, these good, good wishes —

"As soft as falls the silken shade

May every sorrow be,
Which grief, or care, or hope delayed

May ever cast on thee —
And let each joy be pure and bright

As dew on infant flowers,
Some tender theme of new delight

To cheer your pensive hours

670

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH,

And sweetly glide your hours away,

As music from the strings
Of woodland lyre, while o'er it strays

The pleasant gales of Spring —
And as a soft melodious lay

Dies on the still of even,
May your rapt spirit pass away,

And mingle into Heaven."

June 26, 1856.

H. C. S.

And this little goodbye from a "Summer
girl" of fifty years ago :

"An adieu should in utterance die,
When written, faintly appear ;

Only heard in the breath of a sigh,
Only seen in the fall of a tear."

By Eva Ryman Gaillard

GIRARD, PENNSYLVANIA

EVERY person who intends to have a gar-
den, large or small, for flowers or for
vegetables, should decide during this month
what it shall contain, and every magazine or
paper that ever treats of such subjects will
be publishing advice of all sorts for the
benefit of those who have land enough for a
fairly large garden.

Because this is true, my hints for the
month are intended for the thousands of
National readers who live in cities and have
but a tiny back yard, or perhaps not a foot
of land, and think they cannot grow a few
flowers; while they would laugh outright at
the idea of attempting a vegetable garden..

The only requirements of a garden are
good soil, moisture, sunshine and a little
labor, and the one who has a fence, a wall, a
door-step, a window-sill, or a bit of accessible
roof where boxes may be placed, may order
a load of good soil from some farmer and
have a good vegetable garden in boxes.

Where the fence is of the close kind fre-
quently seen between back yards in a city,
put brackets near the top and place the
boxes on them, to bring the garden up where
it gets better light.

Radishes may be grown in such a garden
and by putting in a few seeds when radishes
are pulled for use an almost continuous crop
can be maintained, or by sowing seeds of

both early and late varieties at the same time
the same result may be obtained.

Dwarf peas, string beans of the dwarf va-
riety, onions and other small stuff, including
parsley and the kitchen herbs so invaluable
to the cook, may be grown as easily as the
radishes, while deeper boxes, or barrels,
make "beds" in which tomatoes and cucum-
bers of the finest quality may be grown.

The cucumbers which ordinarily creep
over the soil will trail over the sides of a
barrel and make it decidedly ornamental,
while the Japanese climbing variety grows
as its name indicates. Tomatoes, too, may
be had in climbing varieties for growing
where they can be trained against a fence or
trellis.

If the light will be right but the soil is
poor, along a fence, dig it out deeply and re-
place with good, then plant seeds of such
things as are wanted. Either pumpkin or
squash vines will, with very little training,
clamber all over a fence, and their luxuriant
foliage and large yellow blosoms make a fine
showing. Later, the fruits growing from
day to day and changing from green to
gold challenge the admiration of all, and
at last furnish delicacies for the table.

This is not merely a a pretty theory but a
perfectly demonstrated fact and what was
done in my neighbor's garden last year may
be done as easily in yours this year.

Some of the climbing Aegetable beans are
as ornamental as the ones grown solely for
their beauty and, like the things already
named, serve a double purpose by furnishing
enjoyment for both eye and palate.

It must be remembered that plants grown
in boxes require watering oftener than those
in the ground, but if never allowed to dry
out they require less care in. other ways,
Usually they are planted more closely and
cover the ground more completely so that
weeds have less chance, and the ground be-
ing shaded by the plants, needs less cultiva-
tion.

If flowers are preferred to vegetables the
same kind of garden is adapted to their cul-
ture, but never give up and feel that it is im-
possible to have a garden of some kind
while it is possible to put an earth-filled box
or barrel in any nook or corner, high or low,
where it can be tended, and enjoyed.

Plant what you will, but for your own sake
and that of others plant something, even
though you live in a flat and have only a
window-sill at your command.

THE HOME

671

LITTLE HELPS FOR HOME-
MAKERS

For each little help found suited for use in this
department, we award one year's subscription to the
National Magazine. If you are already a subscriber,
YOUR SUBSCRIPTION MUST BE PAID IN
FULL TO DATE IN ORDER TO TAKE AD-
VANTAGE OF THIS OFFER. You can then either
extend your own term or send the National to a
friend. If your little help does not appear, it
is probably because the same idea has been
offered by someone else before you. Try again.
We do not want cooking recipes, unless you have
one for a new or uncommon dish. Enclose a
stamped and self -addressed envelope if you wish
us to return or acknowledge unavailable offerings.

DRYING RUBBER BOOTS QUICKLY

By L. G. VAIL
Ravenna, Ohio

When your rubber boots get wet on the inside, to
dry them quickly, thus saving temper and discomfort,
fill them with dry oats. The oats should be first heat-
ed in an oven to thoroughly dry them. If very wet,
replace the oats two or three times. The oats serve to
absorb the moisture. A quick and effective way.

TO CLEAN PANAMA HATS

By GRACE E. HARMER

Fond du Lac, Wisconsin

Of equal portions of precipitated sulphur and oxalic
acid mixed, take half a teaspoonful and dissolve in
half a tumbler of cold water, then dip a clean sponge
(not too wet) and pass over the hat until perfectly
clean, then place in the sun to dry, after which the hat
will look like new. Ten cents will cover the entire
cost.

BED-MAKING MADE EASY

By M. L. P.
Avoca, New York

Put two loops made of strong tape or cloth, through
which you can insert your hand, on each side of a mat-
tress, and see how much more easily it can be lifted
or turned.

WATERING LITTLE CHICKS

By MARIA H. CLARK
Galena, Ohio

The best way I find to water little chicks, is to fill a
flat tin nearly full of pebbles, and pour in water. The
chicks drink in the little pools between the pebbles
and are kept from getting in the water with their feet.

To be successful with little chickens you must keep
them dry and warm.

WHEN CREAM IS THIN

By MISS BARTIE E. SCHOOLER
Fairfax, Missouri

When cream is rather too thin or difficult to whip,
add the white of an egg to each pint of cream ; the
whipping can be accomplished much more easily, and
the flavor of the cream not changed in the least.

NATURE'S WAY

By E. J. P.
Ipswich, Massachusetts

If those troubled with constipation or inactive bow-
els will try this remedy, much distress and doctor's
bill will be avoided. Mix two cups of fine wheat bran
with one cup of pastry flour. Then add one-half tea-
spoon of salt, one-half cup of molasses, one teaspoon
saleratus dissolved in one and one-quarter cups sweet
milk. Mix well. An egg improves but not essential.
Bake in gem tins and eat one gem at each meal or
twice a day as needed.

REVERSE THE BOBBIN

By MISS E. M. DARRINGTON
Yazoo City, Mississippi

If, when sewing on a machine, the upper thread keeps
snapping without apparent cause, reverse the bobbin
in the shuttle ; i. e., take the bobbin out and put is
back the other end foremost.

COMBING BLANKETS

By ADA CRANDALL

Union City, Michigan

We are all partial to the soft, fleecy blankets in cold
Winter, but alas, they soon lose their beauty by the
fleece wearing up in little rolls. They can be removed
by taking a clean, coarse comb and combing length-
wise of the blanket, to a smooth, fleecy blanket again.

MAKES SOLES LAST LONGER

By MRS. J. L. RITCHIE

Northfield, Ohio

To make shoe soles last, soak them in linseed oil for
one or two days ; do not get any oil on the uppers, as
the oil makes them stiff. This will make them last
twice as long as they otherwise would.

MAKING STOVE-PIPES FIT

By ALLEN EARLY

Waco, Texas

If you should have an odd size stove, and your pip-
ing is too large for it, cut a slit about five inches up
one end, lap over the ends and fasten with a brad
This is an easy, simple and very effectual manner to
make the piping fit.

TEACHING BABY TO KICK

By MRS. J. C. H.
Buffalo, New York

Make baby's night gown long and put a draw string
in the bottom instead of fastening the bed covering
with safety pins.

IMPROVES THE
By MRS. J. W.

POPCORN

YALE

Middletown Springs, Vermont

To pop corn that has become dry and hard, shell the
com and soak in cold water for fifteen or twenty min-
utes ; drain off the water (have a very hot fire) and put
in a small quantity of corn or your popper will over-
flow. The kernels will be large, flaky, tender and crisp

Nofe and Comment

By Frank Putnam

A FEW REMARKS ON THE
EXPOSURE INDUSTRY

IF you have read and thought upon the
six chapters of Michael A. Lane's
social study lately published in this
magazine, under the collective title
Man in Perspective, you have probably
formed a clearer, kinder judgment of
the faults of modern society than you
otherwise would have formed. For Mr.
Lane has made plain to us, as no other
contributor to current economic discus-
sion has done, the causes of the good
and the bad conditions in the social or-
ganization of our time. Remove causes
and you make cures possible.

On every hand we hear the roar of
"exposures" and prosecutions — every
one of them, as far as I can learn, amply
warranted by the facts developed, and
every one beneficial to society. To
particularize:

Everybody's Magazine exposes cor-
ruption in the big life insurance com-
panies and in the vast stock companies
floated from Wall Street to absorb the

surplus savings of the people not already
gathered into the coffers of the life in-
surance companies or other benevolent
enterprises projected by the Hydes,
Harrimans, Ryans, McCalls, McCurdys,
Rogerses and their ilk.

Success Magazine treats us to an
exposure of the mad and heartless extra-
vagances of the very rich.

In McClure's Magazine we learn
how so-called "business-men" join with
cheap politicians to plunder the cities;
how the railways, in criminal partnership
with the larger commercial and indus-
trial monopolies (the Standard Oil Com-
pany and the Chicago Beef Trust are
examples) make a mock of the right of
every citizen to equal privileges with
every other citizen in the use of these
our public highways, and levy vast,
unjust charges upon all the people.

Comes now the Cosmopolitan, guided
by the strong hands of Wm. R. Hearst,
its new owner, and Bailey Millard, its
new editor, and proposes to expose "The
Treason of the Senate" — otherwise
known as The House of Stealth.

Senators and the huge corporations
they really represent, jealous and fearful
of President Roosevelt's popularity with

NOTE AND COMMENT

673

the people, instigate exposures of public
works going forward under his direction;
of the misdemeanors of his household
servants; of the policy he adopted to
restore order and peace in the negro
republic of Santo Domingo; of the
Panama canal-digging (where, if there
are any political incompetents holding
jobs, it is safe to say they were jammed
in by club-swinging senators — as hap-
pened when the army lists were stuffed
with sapheaded "sons of their fathers"
during the war with Spain) and so forth.
Right here it is worth noting that most
of the people and the papers that are
yelping about Roosevelt's "imperialistic
tendencies" would never utter a yelp
if he were running with the System in-
stead of against it.

This probably does not exhaust the
list of the exposures, but it will serve to
indicate their wide range.

Our appetites grow with what they
feed upon. There is still a lively demand
for more exposures and more exciting
ones. The public seems desirous of
hearing the worst as soon as possible.
I have often been reproached because
the National "did not do its share" of
the exposing.

Bless your hearts, dear brother kickers,
the National has done its share. We
were not satisfied merely to stake out
a particular group or party or class of
sinners and expose them. We went right
down to bedrock and in the quiet, simply
written but profound chapters done by
Mr. Lane we have indicted the whole
human race. We have exposed human
nature. If you thought that, amid the
general crash of systems and wreck of
reputations, you could escape, you were
mistaken. Everyone of us is included
in the general indictment.

It is charged against us,

1 — That, rising from a strenuous but
fairly prosperous career on all-fours,
we are Inherently selfish, and that

our generous Impulses and "hu-
mane" Instincts are acquired;

2 — That our selfish Instincts are still so

strong that anyone of a very great
majority of us. If he had the brains of
Rockefeller, say. and Rockefeller's
chance (were born In the right place
at the right time) would have made
precisely as bad, and possibly worse,
use of his powers as Rockefeller has
made of his";

3 — That when we expose the wicked-

ness ot other, stronger men, we ex-
pose a wickedness that Is Inherent
(and seldom dormant) In ourselves,
lacking only the Imagination and
force of the stronger man to launch
us upon society, there to prey as
piously and as joyously as these our
most prominent pirates have preyed
upon us;

4 — Finally, that upon the above show-

ing of facts It Is found to be not safe
for the majority to trust anyone of us
to exercise the enormous power that
some few of us now do exercise.

Ill

I doubt if Mr. Lane meant to expose
us in this fashion. He is one of the
quiet but dynamic breed whose passion
is to gain facts at first hand from every
open source, in order that, generalizing
these facts into truths, we may know our-
selves. He and his kind are content to
allow others practically to apply the
knowledge they uncover. In his Man
in Perspective he has written for
us (as he might have written it for
children, knowing how busy we all are
in doing the non-essential things) the
story of what and who we are, whence
we came, how we got here and what we
are up to, now that we are here. If he
adventures a forecast of where we are
going, what conditions we may arrive
at on this earth, he does so in the
calm, logical temper of the scientific
investigator, who has no ax to grind,
no material interest to serve with
the conclusion that he will arrive at.

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

His exposure explains and justifies all
the others — the little local exposures
conducted by our contemporaries. Men
still do savage deeds because they are
still savages, and for no other reason.
We have kept the way open to the com-
mission of the crimes of greed that we
see are taking place all around us, not
because we believed them to be moral
and praiseworthy deeds, but because we
wanted a chance for ourselves or our
sons to do these deeds and reap such
rewards as their doers have reaped.

And if now a majority of us agree
that these deeds (the private monopoliz-
ing of public highways, for example) are
no longer bearable by society, we reach
that agreement only because we do not
any longer see a chance for ourselves or
our sons to do the monopolizing.

We now oppose the scattering and
sheep-like self-protecting selfishness of
the stupid majority against the aggres-
sive selfishness of the wisely organized
minority who are the present monopo-
lists.

But, since we see that none of us is
honest enough, or unselfish enough, to
be trusted, either as man or chartered
corporation, to own and operate the pub-
lic highways, what shall we do with them
when, exercising the right and power of
a majority — of even a very stupid ma-
jority, and never forget that, my masters 1
— we take them out of the hands of the
men who now pretend to own and actu-
ally operate them?

Plainly, the only answer to that is, —
we must have common and equal control
of them, and our theoretical right of
equality must rest upon the solid, practi-
cal fact of common and equal ownership.
And that fact must in turn rest upon the
character of the individual: the indi-
vidual must be sane and he must be
honest. At present it is seriously
doubted, (by the men who manage his
estate for him) that he is either sane or
honest. They think he is a good deal
of a fool, inasmuch as he doesn't greatly

resent being deprived of the finer
pleasures of life, nor seeing his fam-
ily so deprived, alongside the wealth
and luxury of his managers and their
families. And they know he isn't any
more honest than they are because they
notice that whenever an uncommonly
able member of his class rises into the
managing class, he promptly develops
the same sort of appetite that they have,
and adopts their identical methods of
satisfying it.

The managing class is content to let
matters stand as they are— they manag-
ing, we managed. The majority of us
appear to be not satisfied as well as the
managing class, and to desire a change.
If our vitality as a people is exhausted,
we shall never escape from the clutches
of the present monopolists, but will fall
constantly lower in their estimation and
our own ; if we are still vigorous, still fit
to be free we shall find a way.

So with those other monuments to the
wise selfishness of the thinking minority
and the stupid selfishness of the merely
emotional majority of us,

1— The so-called protective tariff
system.

2— Our murderous despotism In the
Philippines.

The wise minority knew that the "pro-
tective" tariff would protect them — from
foreign competition; and they knew it
it would not protect the stupid ma-
jority (makers and consumers of "their"
products) from extortion at their hands
— after we, artfully persuaded by the
wise minority, had denied ourselves the
most elementary natural right and the
most powerful agent of civilization,
Freedom of Trade. The minority never
intended that the laborer should be
protected against the competition of
cheap foreign labor, and they do not
intend that he shall be today, if they
can prevent it: witness the importa-

NOTE AND COMMENT

675

tion ( "encouraged" immigration )
of millions of Europeans in an ever-
descending scale of fitness for free
citizenship, and for the sole and only
purpose of beating down the wages
of the laborers in the "protected" in-
dustries. Witness, too, the rising de-
mand of the wise minority that we shall
now open our gates to admit the cheap
labor of China. Is this not Satanic irony,
the wise minority's devotion to "pro-
tection" against foreign products and its
equally fervent advocacy of free trade
in foreign labor? Mark Twain never
created a situation one-half as funny as
this.
The wise minority, (which never heard

of the Philippine Islands until Dewey
smashed the Spanish fleet in Manila
Bay (thought it saw a chance to get

richer by robbing the Filipinos with one

graft or another. The stupid emotional

majority of us thought we saw in the

same situation a chance to get something

for nothing, even though we knew (by

that subconscious process that with us

of the majority serves instead of thought)

that we should get that something only

by proxy. So, in a wild hurrah of

hungry greed, all hands charged across

our outer walls, trampling the Constitu- ^d-like protest.

tion of the United States, the charter/ Jesting aside

our own liberties, into the mud a^

ran, and we took possession /

Asiatic islands.
I judge from certain ben<^ofour

mations — certain solemn re: Deeding

high duty to humanity -^. .the wise

from organs and spo>*. pPlne deal
31 take its loss

of us, on this question. It slowly dawns
on us that the best we have ever got or
can hope to get out of the Philippines is
a steady dirty job without salary, and
paying all our own expenses. The white
man's burden begins to gall us where
we live — in our pockets. We of the
majority, being quite as hypocritical
in our stupid way as the wise minority,
will presently proclaim our deep con-
viction that under our leadership
and the guidance of an all-wise God
the Filipinos have reached a point in
their development where they may be
trusted to walk alone among the nation*
And we will shake their hands
ately on the front doorsteps, wish
long life and happiness, and win °ne
eye at John Bull peering aroi'd the
near corner of the house. Wdt John .
does to them after w leaj wiw be
John's fault, not ours/ We tl1 be satis-
fied to have got rid / ther> a°d we may
by that time hax Zot ~nse enough to
invest our «ya*W>»t assimilation

fund," arffr home18 ^ °f *'
in dev.^end the res! of our dS^
hSme for the Philippine
each other and in

&?*$****„„*

in swearing
it, save

°ur siezing the Philin "
' bea •

reSretted

not seem '•«• -•" ' _loaay Jt does

minority,
thew.m.
and quit.

made ur

that in

J tnat m this in-
tho „,,,.,

g bnck; and
we can do is to sell

they

^meHTTSthatpainfula«d
/tomed thought is fermenting in

**k skulls of the stupid majority

- — -.N.JIO me it is
generally shared down there.

feeling

6;6

NATIONAL MAGAZINE for MARCH, 1906

What we ought to do, he says, and I
agree with him, is to let the Filipinos
set up a republic — the first in the Far
East— and make a joint agreement with
Germany, Japan, France and Great
Britain — our natural allies on most in-
ternational propositions — warning other
nations to keep hands off them. We
would win their love and the world's
admiration by such a course — incident-
ally saving several hundred millions of
dollars, and getting back to a reign of
Jaw on our own account. Kings and
sycophants would sneer at us — but the
re4 men in every land would think bet-
ter ^ us for it. If Theodore Roosevelt
shouK^iead the nation to this step, his
fame ^uid shine bright forever. With
all our «sits, we of the great stupid ma-
jority lov«vhe memory of just men, gen-
erous men\Ni> Uttle son> siowiy stum.

vening through a his-
Revolution, looked
ig eyes, and in
' ,-^nd contempt,
Jihat Arnold

bling his

tory of the

up to me

tones of

he said: "What

find expressed in a certain quaint and
merry little rhyme wafted to this desk
by some anonymous hand a day or two
ago, and which reads as follows:

MISTER HOMO

Yesterday he sallied forth, ax in hand,

for slaughter;
Skin-clad, hunger-mad, ravening for

prey:
Note him now at Vassar, visiting his

daughter, —

"Dear Dad— so glad to have you here
today!"

Pretty good for Homo, eh? — weighing

circumstances?
How he rose, God knows; the rest of

us forget.
Some think he's going back; / like his

chances, —

Hustle, Mister Homo, and we'll all
be happy yet.

the little
taught to loathe the

STRAIGHT TALK BY
AMERICAN

A> REAL

HE federal courts of the United States

so very >

iaht crown his fame with successful ,r chamber)» Edgar Lee Masters tells
he migni noblest opportunity how and why the federal courts have

tnis, i eri-

* *nic tnC HUUICDV w^f— - w *

action in w» u Ameri- £J£ be the main reliance of organized

that has _been ottered ^^^ day> J^Mr. Masters is alawyer, partner of

V
Although we have thought it needful

thus to expose human v**"*™^ to ^rsVnT who regol or a patriot. I will

(if for no other teaser then ™re y PJ-o Qn

^xtilain the whirling host ot iitue i & Mr wo terr^ asmter.

nCres in the pages of our beloved W«£ ^ ^^ ti fights

exposures in we PS in spe. fagnw than .^ ^

contemporaries) and to ^llc we *• "Opinion but he callsok and,ead

cific proofs supporting H exp , mmy / emies of the R^oosev«t,

do not despair of the race. We ^Stmore precisely and fin on tht

with some limitations as set ay 0£the magazine " exposers , our

m man-with so ^ ^ fnunded ™? ott Publishing Co.;**

as we (ThtHammersmarkP^

j^rrow (celebrated alike as author,
hestrikes111"011 defender and advocate
book NcAn'P °^ public property) and
,ry is £.from tie shoulder in this
isider hfr^.er who denounces the

SOUTHWARD ON THE SEABOARD

AIR LINE

By Joe Mitchell Chappie

VOU remember in your old school
geographies one date which stands
out prominently and cannot be obliter-
ated from your memory — that is "1492,
Columbus discovered America." The
next remarkable date that comes to mind
is when Ponce de Leon discovered
Florida.

A glance at the old geography and the
sting of the biting blasts of Boreas sug-
gested it, and, as naturally as in Spring-
time "the young man's fancy lightly
turns to thoughts of love," did my
thoughts turn southwards to Florida and
the charming climate of the tropical
Winter. A study of a railroad folder
intensified the conviction that it was
about time I was discovering Florida.
Readers of the National, cosily gathered
about the stoves, registers, radiators and
fireplaces of the North will like to read

of the American Reviera. It is difficult
to repress the old, old longing, but I
deny that I followed the impulse of
Ponce de Leon, who went to Florida to
search for the fountain of perpetual
youth — for who could lose youth and
hope with such associates as our readers!
In fact, I have concluded that the fount-
ain of youth, vigor and enterprise will
not be found in the tropics, but rather
in the temperate zones, where activity is
more easily kept up.

Standing on Broadway in New York
City my decision was made to go South,
for it was here that I engaged in the
study of a highly colored poster showing
a palm grove and a train dashing through
it. There was a thermometer, too, that
cleverly suggested what a variety of cli-
mate may be experienced by the traveler
of our age, in the Winter months, within

SOUTHWARD ON THE SEABOARD AIR LINE

a period of twenty-four hours. Shortly
after high noon the journey was begun
on the Seaboard Air Line, and at even-
ing we passed through the national capi-
tal, then on to Richmond at a somewhat
swifter pace than that at which General
McClellan and his army moved in the
years gone by. .,

The traveler begins to feel romantic
when he touches Virginian soil, for the
history of the old Dominion State is re-
plete with great events, and in Rich-
mond, as you look out upon the red soil
and forests of the landscape, memories
come surging up of Washington and the
seven presidents whom this state fur-
nished the nation and it seems as though
the curtain had been drawn back for a
glimpse of the past and the stormy
events of a bygone century. From the
handsome Richmond terminal, elevated
far above the streets, in the few mo-
ments which the train remains, one ob-
tains a bird's-eye view of the city that
has played so important a part in Ameri-
can history.

Visions were called up of the dramatic
day when Abraham Lincoln went to
Richmond and walked with bared head
to the White House of the confederacy,
recently vacated by Jefferson Davis.
From the car window at Fredericksburg
we looked upon that disastrous battle
scene, where the defeat of Burnside took
place in 1862. Below Richmond, at
Petersburg, memories of Stonewall Jack-
sou and Barbara Frietchie come to
mind. The old brick mills near the
track are deserted and the bitter memor-
ies of the Titanic struggle at Petersburg
have been swept away or effaced in the
tide of prosperity flowing into the new
South of today. It was in this city that
General Winfield Scott was born and
raised, in sight of the old church built
in 1738 of brick brought from England.
This was one of the oldest churches in
Virginia, and on the ruins someone has
inscribed :

"Lone relic of the past! old mouldering pile,
Where twines the ivy round its ruins gray."

One cannot pass through Virginia, nor
even mention the name of the state,
without recalling Robert E. Lee. What
more thrilling pictures are there in his-
tory than his inspiring career afford, or
what more vivid contrast can be found
than his later days, when he looked
peacefully down from the teacher's ros-
trum into the eyes of the sons of those
soldiers who followed his fortunes during
the war! No wonder that the Southern
women economized and made every pos-
sible sacrifice to have their sons educa-
ted at the old Washington and Lee uni-
versity.

Here, too, the traveler seems to hear
faint echoes of patriotic Patrick Henry's
impetuous declaration,

"Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as
to be purchased at the price of chains
and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God!
I know not what course others may take,
but as for me, give me liberty or give me
death."

What American boy or girl has not
heard of that scene in old St. John's
Ch arch as the ringing tones came from
the pew where the orator stood, while
listening people afterward declared that
they felt "sick with excitement." How
often since have these words been heard
from the lips of "young America" all
over the country, and how often will
they thrill generations yet unborn, mak-
ing them better Americans and better
men and women!

At Petersburg I was interested in
noticing that the old embankments which
in former years were used for warfare and
carnage are now capped by the gleaming
steel of railways, which presage the pros-
perity of the new South, and this pros-
perity is very apparent in Henderson,.
N. C., the old tobacco center, which is
the scene of industrial enterprise.

It was delightful to stop off at Norlina

SOUTHWARD ON THE SEABOARD AIR LINE

for an evening meal in the old hotel.
The pines and magnolias outside seemed
to whisper a true Southern welcome. Of
course there were hot bisuits, ham and
eggs, mince pie and milk. The line
from Norlina to Richmond has been
constructed within the last seven years,
and this connection has done a great
deal in bringing the South and North
into close contact, bridging the chasm of
Civil war. This little link has made the
great systems of the South an important
factor in welding and unifying the na-
tion, for the thrifty Yankee is working
wonders in the South, bringing pros-
perity not to be so easily secured in any
other way, and vice-versa, the South-
erner in New England soon comes to see
how necessary each section is to the
other in the upbuilding of the "Union —
one and inseparable."

A long stop at Raleigh, N. C., where,
occupied by colored people stands a
cabin in which Andrew Johnson was
born and from which he lan away to
the wilds of Tennessee. At Waxhaw,
N. C ., the traveler may look upon the
birth place of Andrew Jackson, whose
birthday was being celebrated in all
parts .of the country the day I passed
through this city on my way South. The
governor of North Carolina and the
governor of South Carolina were not
present the day we crossed the border
into the land of Sumter and Marion,
where the rice fields brought the first
dawn of prosperity to the American col-
ony, but the fertility of that hospitable
and historic country is apparent. It was
at Camden, S. C. that Baron De Kalb
was killed and buried, and it was here
that Lafayette laid the corner stone of
the De Kalb monument in 1824. Every-
where are relics of Colonial days, and
part of the entrenchments of Cornwallis
are also visible, where lies the grave of
"Agnes of Glasgow." She was the Scot-
tish lassie who came to America in

search of her soldier lover. She reached
the camp only to learn that he was dead,
and when she herself soon passed away
within the lines, the soldiers carved
upon the stone all they knew of her,
"Agnes of Glasgow."

These old times have passed forever,
and the very conductor on the train
gives a glimpse of the character of the
New South. Ever courteous, with the
most mellifluent of voices, delightful as
George Ade's "College President," our
conductor gave me information without
stint, and every passenger in the train
was made to feel that he was the guest
of the company on that' trip, whether
the traveler happened to be the holder
of a first class ticket or occupier of a
seat in the "Jim Crow" car. The cour-
tesy of the smooth faced man, with the
two gold stripes on his uniform, was in-
deed refreshing.

At Southern Pines a large contingent
of the passengers left for Pinehurst.
Now when you mention GOLF you must
always think of Pinehurst, that incom-
parable retreat which has become the
popular rendezvous of wealth and fashion
during Winter months. I had not my
golf sticks with me, so I did not stop
off. I dont mind letting you into a sec-
ret and admitting that if I had golf
sticks they would not have been of much
use to me, as the only golf sticks I have
ever learned to handle are the axe, the
hoe and the rake — I can use a broom if
necessary. I sometimes think if the
same amount of energy that is expended
in golfing were applied upon the cultiva-
tion of the soil, the land would all blos-
som as the rose, while the cultivators
would have fresh air and exercise, and
not have to' work much harder than they
do now in pursuit of pleasure. How-
ever, the axe, the hoe and the rake have
not yet become fashionable, though the
use of the golf sticks is certainly an
approach toward it and may be regarded

SOUTHWARD ON THE SEABOARD AIR LINE

as a step in the right direction, for it
biings the players into the open air and
indicates an appreciation of the value of
muscular development.

In Columbia, the capital of South
Carolina, there are many memories of
the tragedies of the Civil War and of
Sherman's march to the sea. After its
destruction the city arose from the ashes
and is now one of the most charming in
the South. The old State House was
one of the few buildings not destroyed
by fire, and on it appear the marks of
Sherman's cannon balls. It seems as
though the facts of history are never
clearly grasped until one has visited the
scene of the events chronicled. I was
interested in learning of the strong loyal-
ist feeling which existed in the South in
the days prior to the Revolution, and
it is singular that out of this same South
should have come the man who wrote
the Declaration of Independence — evi-
dently "extremes meet."

Entering Savannah it was difficult to
believe that this city was held by the
royalists for nine months, prevailing
against Count Pulaski and other allies
fighting for the American cause and the
freedom of the country : the final battle
may be called the Bunker'Hill of the
South, being one of the bloodiest of the
entire campaign. The people of Savan-
nah feel just pride in the fact that some
of the powder used in the battle of Bunker
Hill was sent from their city, having
been taken from the government stores.

When Oglethorpe founded Savannah
and lived on Bay Street — every Southern
town seems to have its "Bay Street" —
he intended the new city as a refuge for
the imprisoned debtors of England; his
relations with the Indians form one of
the bright pages in the calendar of our
dealings with the red men.

It was to Savannah that John and

Charles Wesley came in 1736, and it is
claimed that the Sunday school which
they opened there was the first in
America.

It was here that Charles Wesley wrote
many of those hymns which are still
sung throughout the world.

Twenty-four hours after leaving the
chilling blasts of New York, I found
myself on the streets of Jacksonville, the
energetic and thriving "gateway of
Florida." Well paved streets, sky-
scrapers and a harbor filled with ship-
ping are among the characteristics of
this city. The war vessel Florida was in
the St. Johns River. Little evidence re-
mains of the terrific fire of 1901, but every-
thing appears to date from that. The
visitor is given information regarding the
scourge of fever in '88, and the shock-
ing massacres in early days are not for-
gotten, but "the fire" is the inevitable
date for all local history.

With three great trunk lines centering
here, Jacksonville is truly an impoitant
port and distributing point on the Atlan-
tic coast. The city owns its own light-
ing and water plants, and as we passed
by the water works it was remarked,

"There is no graft there."

So, of course, we all took a second
look. The spirit of enterprise is mani-
fest on every side. Electric power is
furnished for seven cents per kilowatt.
Municipal water and light have proved
a successful venture and have been
operated by the city with much profit.

Here was a glimpse of palm trees.

Palmetto Road is a beautiful boule-
vard with double rows of trees beside
the grass plat which runs down the mid-
dle of the roadway. The handsome resi-
dences on either side make up a street
of rare beauty.

Along the line from Savannah I was
interested in the great turpentine groves.
A box is first made in the trunk of the
tree and then the bark is trimmed off
year by year to about six or eight feet
high, but care is taken not to entirely

SOUTHWARD ON THE SEABOARD AIR LINE

girdle the tree as it will continue to
grow so long as the depleted ring does
not entirely encircle the trunk. The
great forest of turpentine trees looked
as though wearing knickerbocker stock-
ings, as seen from the car window.

There are swamps, of course, and one
can look upon the rice fields and the
cotton fields near by, which are drawing
the wealth of the world, for cotton we
must have. On either side of the train
at night, through the Carolinas, one
looks upon the brilliantly lighted factor-
ies of the South. It may be that there
are some crying evils in these factories,

but regulations can mend them and the
development of the people has been mar-
velous along industrial lines, owing to
these enterprises. For what was their
condition before as compared with
now?

The dull and hopeless isolation which
deadened all ambition has been dissi-
pated, and the children need no longer
grow up in the dense ignorance shown
by the alarming figures of illiteracy in
the South. Give them a chance to earn
a livelihood and come into contact with
their fellow beings, stimulating ambition
and resolutibn.

TALES OF AN ANCIENT AMERICAN

CITY

By Joe Mitchell Chappie

THERE was evidence on every side
that the tourist season had begun.
Jacksonville is an important terminal
point, for here the through trains stop
and here one looks upon the bright yel-
low cars of the Florida East Coast Line,
which has won the reputation through-
out the world of being one of the best
equipped roads yet built. When you
traverse the East Coast of Florida in
luxury, you begin to realize that railroads
are the revolutionary force of the world.
On every side there was much to suggest
the advent of the New South. I had
reached the land of magic, and no won-
der I retired with a keen anticipation of
what I might see on awaking, for I was
now entering enchanted Florida.

On the handsome parlor cars of the
Florida East Coast line I left Jackson-
ville in the afternoon for the oldest city
in the United States, possessed with a
feverish anxiety to look upon this quaint
old town with historic memories. The

moment I boarded that train I thought
of the man who had made possible all
this exodus to the South. This is his
railroad. This is the great country which
he has helped so largely to develop.
Florida, Flagler and Vim seemed to
paraphrase in my mind the "F. F. V."
of the South, for all these systems reach
out far into the South, converging toward
Florida, the Paradise of America.

In the afternoon glow, I looked upon
the great forests of stately pines, behind
which was the orange flush o.f the sun-
set. Forests were on either side of the
track, recalling the fact that almost every
inch of this ground had been stubbornly
contested with the ancient, incorrigible
Seminoles, who retreated to these glades
and never were conquered by the use of
firearms. Twenty years ago a man with
a purpose in his mind came to the South
—he conquered. He dreamed dreams
which he has lived to see realized.

Yes, here was St. Augustine. Over-

TALES OF AN ANCIENT AMERICAN CITY

THE BEAUTIFUL TROPICAL COURT OF THE ALCAZAR

head were arches of electric light, shin-
ing on the white-painted-station, swept
by the tempered breath of the Gulf
Stream. Clean, neat, thrifty, everything
seemed to breathe comfort. Through
the park I walked, with the rustle of
real palms overhead and the glitter of
electric light upon the trees. Down the
clean well-kept streets to the hotel I
passed. It was moonlight, early in Janu-
ary, but as sweet scented as a Massachu-
setts May day. It was the night pre-
ceding the opening day of the Ponce de
Leon Hotel, and there stood that mas-
sive pile of masonry, dark and silent,
nestling in a setting of rich tropical foli-
' age, waiting to be called into action for
another season.

Across the way was the Alcazar, with
its twin turrets, touched by the magic of
Moorish moonlight. I walked up the
great court along a winding pathway
lined with neatly trimmed hedges and

overhung with palms. It seemed like
entering another land, and I almost ex-
pected to hear the twang of the Spanish
guitar, and see the haughty dames of the
court of Isabella. Truly if the historic
Queen of Spain could have realized that
in the far-off land discovered by Colum-
bus there was a country destined to out-
shine even the glory of her Castilian
court, she would have sent the messen-
ger after the retreating form of Columbus
long before she made that momentous
decision which led to unfolding the
scroll of a new world.

The rustic arched bridge, beneath
which was the gurgle of the playing
fountain, and the soft rustle of the
tropical foliage carried me far from
modern life,

"Dark and deep lay the palm shadows
on the turf, so still they seemed but pic-
tured gloom."

As in a dream, I gazed and gazed,

TALES OF AN ANCIENT AMERICAN CITY

reluctant to turn away from the glories
of the tropical night, even for such a
dinner as can be found only in a Flagler
hotel.

After I had dined I wandered out
once more into that quaint and ancient
city, lying steeped in the witchery of
moonlight, and I could well understand
the fascination such a country must
have had for the early Spanish explorers.
Across the street were the beau ies of
the Ponce de Leon, silent and dark like
some vast, enchanted castle. It was
difficult to believe that in a few hours
the spell would be broken and all would
be life and movement.

To me Florida is not simply a reminder
of the Reviera. It is rather a renais-
sance of Spanish glories, which surpasses
the brilliancy of the original. It is a
complete innovation, not modelled on
the great resorts of the Mediterranean,
which it may well claim to outshine. It
can hardly be believed that when a man
looked upon this site twenty years ago
he saw nothing but a swamji. He said,

"Here I will build a living picture
which shall become one of the great
achievements of the age."

The glory of the present age is the
work of such men. It is like magic.
We have had great warriors, poets,
statesmen, dramatists but ours is dis-
tinctively the age of industrial courage.

Down through the old Plaza I wan-
dered, looking upon the post office, a
reminder of the days of English posses-
sion. I passed on through courts walled
in by well trimmed hedges and yews,
and encircled by houses adorned with
red-tiled roofs. It is not in any one
thing, but in the welding of the ancient
and modern that one sees the best monu-
ment of present day benefits. In the
Plaza is the monument which was
erected when a constitution had been
granted to the colonies by Spain — after-
ward withdrawn. It was written in

Spanish and I tried to decipher the
words in the moonlight. After the con-
stitutions were revoked the tablets were
torn down in most cities, but St. Augus-
tine has preserved hers. I saw the
sharp-pointed spire of the old Episcopal
church and the facade of the old cathed-
ral, with shadows playing upon the old-
est place of worship on the American
continent. I had a desire to see all that
I could in the glamour of the moonlight,
for who does not remember the charm of
"the witching hour" in looking over
Melrose Abbey and other historic sj^ots
which figure in the tales of Sir Walter
Scott!

Down on the old sea wall I wandered,
where the lighthouse flashed out — like
a living watch tower of Time — a warning
to the mariners at sea. Along this old
wall are many reminders of earlier days,
but I passed on by the old fortv It
would be difficult to describe the emo-
tions awakened by these grim walls, built
like a four-pointed star, each point look-
ing like the bow of a great vessel, head-
ing into the greensward. The draw-
bridge and the moss-covered walls, built
of coquinna, give a touch of romance.
Outside the moat is a cluster of trees.
This great stretch of greensward is how
used as golf links, with the moat as the
hazard.

From the watch tower one can look
far out to sea and fancy how the soldiers
of old would watch incessantly for the
black flag of Captain Kidd and his
pirates or the more cheerful colors of
a home-coming ship. When the Indians
were kept in the fort not many years ago
it presented a picturesque sight as they
sat upon the parapet attired in their
gaudy robes, looking upon the land
which the white man had taken with no
better right than a gun.

The moat reaches from the bay to the
river Sebastian and entirely surrounded
the fort with water in the days of ever-
present danger. In the old fort gateway
were the apertures where the gates had

TALES OF AN ANCIENT AMERICAN CITY

TOWERS OF THE ALCAZAR ABOVE THE TROPICAL GARDENS

swung, for they are now down. Many
young couples moved about among the
shadows, for the romance of the spot
makes it an ideal place for youthful
dreams.

From here I wandered down to the
north gate of the old city, with its six-
foot-square pillars still standing. Then

on down that little old street, where the
over-hanging balconies across the narrow
roadway made even a prosaic Northern
editor feel like a Spanish cavalier. I
expected every moment to hear a guitar,
for it seemed hardly possible that I
should reach the hotel without meeting
some Romeo serenading his lady. What

TALES OF AN ANCIENT AMERICAN CITY

a thrill it gives one to look upon these
scenes, to realize that even the old
knockers on the doors have beaten a
call for generations of hands long since
crumbled to dust. On my way back I
met ladies with lace mantillas, and the
only thing which seemed to strike a false
note was the "infernal red lights" strung
on the tower of the Alcazar. One dreams
of the fierce loves and fiercer hates of
the old days, and anything modern seems
out of place for the moment. But Ameri-
can civilization is making sad inroads
on the romance of all these places, and
the tendency is to supplant the quaint
old grays of age with new and gaudy
colors.

The Cordova, now an annex of the
Alcazar, is an interesting study as an
example of Spanish architecture. Down
the street is a club house, a reproduction
of an old Moorish building, now called
the "Zorayda." At the back of the
Ponce de Leon is the beautiful memorial
church, built by Mr. Flagler in memory
of his deceased daughter. Its mosque
dome is in keeping with the picture,
which is a complete ensemble of Span-
ish architecture.

Back to the hotel— to music and mod-
ern life! People were still gathered
about in the great hall in social groups,
some standing, others reclining in chairs,
but everyone just where he or she
pleased, chatting and listening to music
— no stiff rows of chairs for concerts —
just a pleasant evening, when you dislike
to think of retiring and leaving it all.

Next morning at sunrise I looked out
from my window on the court. The
sunlight glanced on the water and the
red-tile roofs; the reds and bronzes of
the sky seemed to be reflected on earth;
the red-bird, in gay plumage, bowed
a good morning on a near-by casement.
I went for an early morn ing stroll toward
the old sea wall and barracks, which was
formerly a monastery, and came upon
the Methodist Church, which was given

by Mr. Flagler and is another fine speci-
men of Anglo-Spanish architecture. The
north gate of the city is situated near
the fort and has an old sentry box on
either side. Just outside the gate is the
Huguenot cemetery and inside the gate
is the Spanish cemetery, with its green-
tinted, mossy tombs. Another visit to
old Fort Marion ; and now that the spec-
tres of night had passed we went down
to see the ghostly dungeons, which sug-
gested the Spanish inquisition. These
were constructed three centuries ago
and the material used was coquinna, a
stone made of portions of shells and
coral cemented together by the action of
the sea waves.

As we walked around the outside walls
of the old city, I saw the live oak trees,
which are not a species of the real oak,
but have branches extending out 100 feet,
while the trees are less than sixty
feet in length. They are overhung with
moss, and are among the most singular
and beautiful trees of the world.

In the orange grove of Dr. Garnett
I had the pleasure of picking tangerines
from the trees, and also tasted other
varieties of tropical fruit, all of my "own
picking." ' Since the great freeze of '94,
piles of wood are kept throughout the
orchard, and the minute the cold wave
is signalled the fire is kindled and the
smoke and warmth keep off the frost.
The hedges of "Spanish bayonets" are
a curiosity. This is a plant most appro-
priately named, because it is almost
impossible for anyone to force a way
through such a hedge without uprooting
it. What a contrast it was to look from
this hedge upon the Marshal Neil' roses
and oleander bushes — in the middle of
January.

Later in the day I walked across the
street with Mr. Flagler to the Ponce de
Leon. I wish I could describe the sim-
ple majesty of the man as he looked
upon his own creation. We stopped in
front of the gate, on either side of which
are lions' masques. These are already

TALES OF AN ANCIENT AMERICAN CITY

covered with the mould of nineteen Sum-
mers, but the projector insists that it
shall not be disturbed, so the mark of
antiquity is left where nature has seen
fit to- place it. The hotel is built in
the Spanish style of architecture, and yet
is distinctively and purely an American
interpretation of Spanish grandeur. Mr.
Flagler remarked that the best thing
about it was its absolute honesty. Every-
thing is thorough and there is no pre-
tence of anything being other than it is.
It is certainly a satisfaction to know that
every detail of this building is complete.
The lion's masque .is introduced in
memory of Leon, the Spanish town
which stood out against the Moors so
long, and it is also the emblem of Ponce
de Leon, who was proclaimed "Leon"
in name and in heart. Above the gate-
way is a stag's head, the sacred totem of
the Florida Indians. Inside the gate we
looked, in the daylight, upon those great
towers, suggesting the Mohammedan

mosques and peculiarly adapted to their
surroundings. From this tower the view
is magnificent. In the center of the
court is the fountain, where terra cotta
frogs are defiant, and behind it is the
massive front of the hotel; carved in
relief is the legend of Ponce de Leon,
the principal events in his life being
depicted on the walls. It is a rare treat
to visit this hotel with Mr. Flagler, for
he knows that it typifies the integrity of
worth and merit on the part of builder
and architect.

Leading out on either side of the gate
is the loggia. In the dolphins of the
fountains there is a special significance,
because St. Augustine once bore the
name of the River of Dolphins, and the
dolphin motif is repeated again and
again. The idea of the sea is carried
out in the door knobs, which are
modelled after sea shells. The decora-
tions of the rotunda were to me as in-
tensely interesting as anything I had

OLD SPANISH CATHEDRAL FACADE AS BUILT IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY

TALES OF AN ANCIENT AMERICAN CITY

seen at Versailles or about the courts of
Europe. Done in the Spanish renais-
sance style, there were figures represent-
ing Earth, Air, Fire and Water and other
allegorical representations. Throughout
the decorations is the masque of the sun-
god of the Florida Indians, which looks
like the beaming face of a happy Cupid.
In the entrance is a broad stairway of
Mexican onyx, which leads to the dining
hall, which is without doubt not excelled
in the world in its richness of decora-
tion. On the floor, in mosaic, may be
read the touching words of Shenstone,

"Who'er has travell'd life's dull round,
Where'er his stages may have been,
May sigh to think he still has found
The warmest welcome at an inn."

'-'

•

* , *

4r:^*

A DRIVE IN DR. GARNETT'S ORANGE GROVE, ST. AUGUSTINE

Leading from the great central dining
room are two spacious circular alcoves,
and the dining room throughout is un-
equalled as a specimen of mingled mod-
ern and Spanish decoration. On the
walls are pictured the caravels of Colum-
bus under full sail, but what especially
impressed me was the richness of every-
thing. In each of the four corners of
the domed ceiling was a crab sailing in
a background of solid gold-leaf. The
columns of the rotunda are handsomely
carved figures. In fact, every detail of
this palatial structure is an art study,
and it is no wonder that guests remain
there for weeks at a time to study the
decorations of this unrivalled modern
palace, which is the
possession of the great
caraven of guests who
come and go through
the season. As I sat on
the stairway, looking
down, I thought of how
the thousands of visitors
coming to this hotel en-
joy all these beauties
and luxuries with as
much pleasure as the
owner, minus his re-
sponsibility.

Ponce de Leon is
the great radiating
point for Florida tour-
ists, and is opened
every year with varied
ceremonies. It is the
annual event in St.
Augustine, and I had
the pleasure of witnes-
sing the nineteenth
opening. Long before
three o'clock, the hour
of the opening, the
waiting throng filled
the streets. It was a
cloudy day but it was
evident that nothing
could dim the enthusi-
asm of the St. Augus-

TALES OF AN ANCIENT AMERICAN CITY

tinians in the opening of their palace.
The fanfare of trumpets was greeted
by a signal from a culverin, fired
by Miss Kenan, Mrs. Flagler's sister.
Close by stood the war-scarred veterans,

Lieutenant-General Scofield and General
Brooke. The great iron gates swung up-
ward, held by massive weights, as the
band played "The Star Spangled Ban-
ner," and the old flag on the staff in the

TALES- OF --^VN- ANCIENT -~AMBR4€AR~€ITY-

corner was unfurled to the breeze. The
moment the gates swung up in thronged
the people— boys first of course. There
was a goodly jepresentation of the school
children. In fact, the whole population
of the city seemed to be present on this
great occasion. They surged in, admir-
ing the, palace as they have done year
after year, as deeply interested as though
in their own domiciles. I found an old
"mammy" sitting near-by, attired in a
white cap and as I talked to her she
added to my store of information :

"Yes, I done male' dis yerecap special
— same as I does every yea' — for Mista
Flagler's opening."

Strange as it may seem, this is the first
of these events at which Mr. Flagler
himself has been present, but the hotel,
under the able management of Mr. Mur-
ray, has long taken rank without an
equal in the world. Upon its register
are names of world-wide renown ; thou-
sands of celebrities have been enter-
tained here, and it was only last October
that President Roosevelt was a visitor
at this famous hostelry. A Boston chef
has been engaged for the present season,
as the management insist on having
everything of the best at the Ponce de
Leon — this was regarded as a great
compliment to the seat of learning and
culture.

If there is any one feature of Florida
life which especially recalls the original
mission of Ponce de Leon, it is the re-
newal of youth incidental to the festivi-
ties of the mid-Winter season, which is
at its height about Februray, 22. It is
amazing to note by statistics the number
of people who go to Florida in the Win-
ter, which indicates something of the
activity of the American people. Florida
is today full of Winter homes. The
necessity of a Winter vacation has be-
come fixed in the minds of our people,
and in cases where it is not possible to
take two vacations in the year, it is often
the Summer one which is abandoned in
favor of a holiday in the cold months.

• The big Casino at the Alcazar sur-
rounds the 4v«ge swimming tank. It
was in this section of the hotel that an
event took place which especially awak-
ened niy interest and enthusiasm. It
was nothing else than "A htfusewarming
at 'Rufffaouse Lodge' " Mr. Flagler and
his wife were present and the bill of fare
was certainly worthy of consideration.

It was delightful to meet the young
people who took part in the games, most
of them not over sixteen or seventeen
years of age. I was much amused by
the game in which the young ladies
started, ran across the room, picked up
a piece of paper and a pencil on a line,
and got right down and wrote a love
letter and rushed back with it to one of
the waiting youths. Some of those love
letters were classics. I bethought me if
Editor Bok knew of this unique sport the
readers of the Ladies Home Journal
would have a new amusement for Winter
gatherings. The young people reading
the National can try it.

Then there was the old "grab bag"
game, where each one stood blindfolded
with a bludgeon ready to strike, after
having taken ,three steps and turned
around three times. It was amusing,
to note how the bump of locality varied
in the several different players some of
them striking wild at all angles of the
compass; but at last someone hit the
bag a thwack, which brought forth the
trophies of the occasion.

The "egg and spoon race," "the po-
tato race," and the "fancy spasms" were
all amusing and so was the "hungry hus-
tle." It was just an old-fashioned,
happy time, with a number of new
games, and it seemed as though every-
body in that room had suddenly become
about the same age — and no one was
over twenty that night. I was afterward
privileged to meet a large number of the
good people of the city, at a reception of
the St. Augustine Yacht Club, and I
shall never forget the cordial hospitality
of the South on these occasions.

MR. HENRY M. FLAGLER, THE GENIUS OF FLORIDA

AND HERE THE TROPICAL CLIMAX

By Joe Mitchell Chappie

IT seemed like a great world-panorama
unveiled. In a single night's journey
the transformation was miraculous, for
after the freeze of '94 the great patron of
Florida pushed on farther South to carry
on his life ambition, and the trip follow-
ing the wake of his footsteps is one of

marvelous interest. There is the hotel
at Rockledge, on the picturesque river,
and the hotel at Ormond, with the vast
stretch of beach where the automobile
races have broken all records on the
hard-packed and raked sand of the At-
antic coast. This year it is expected to

AND HERE THE TROPICAL CLIMAX

turn the wheels at the pace of two miles
a minute. It is six miles from Ormond
to Daytona. All along the line of the
Florida East Coast are evidences of the
great absorbing purpose of Henry M.
Flagler. While these hotels are without
equals in the world, and are the rendez-
vous of people who spend money with
a lavish hand, it is not in his hotels that
the projector takes the most pride. As
he remarked to me:

"It is not for the tourist, but for the
people who stay the twelve months of
the year in Florida, that we are building
up the great Peninsular State of the
South."

At Fort Pierce and Daytona are thou-
sands of homes of persons who come
from the North for the Winter, but there
is a constant influx of people who have
come to make permanent homes and
have succeeded in fulfilling the ambition
of the average American — to have a good
dwelling place. Now, it would not be
honest to say that Florida is a golden
land, where oranges grow as freely as
grass and beautiful homes subsist with-
out the strenuous effort necessary to sup-
port them elsewhere, but it is certainly
"a delightsome land."

On either side of the railroad pine-
apple farms and fields of bananas grow,
and what delicious bananas may be
found in Florida ! Pineapples grow out
in the fields on small bushes, which look
somewhat like cactus plants and are
about four or five feet high. These are
protected by sheds, or chicken coop ar-
rangements of lath, about six feet above
the plants, which keep off the frost. It
is a peculiar fact that frost does not pass
beneath these sheds of lath.

Every mile on the well-equipped and
well-ballasted train of the East Coast
Railroad furnishes a scene of varied in-
terest. To the left is the great St. Johns
river, which follows the East Coast of
Florida. This is the great rendezvous
for the house boats, and on the river
may be seen many of these floating

houses in which the people live during
the Winter and move about as the desire
may impel, enjoying an idle, leizurely
life.

One peculiarity in the Flagler hotels
is that they are built for the railroads.
The beach hotels have switches that run
the train right to the door of the hos-
telry, which eliminates all difficulty with
baggage. An Englishman remarked to
me:

"By Jove! It is as easy to travel in
Florida as to go from Trafalgar to St.
Paul's."

The climax of this scroll of picturesque
tropical splendor is reached at Palm
Beach. There you get the full warm
breath of the Gulf Stream and the balmy
breezes that speak of Summer in the
midst of Wintertime.

Acres and acres of soil were brought
here from outside, for Mr. Flagler de-
cided to make this one of the greatest
Winter resorts of the world, and many
acres of the picturesque cocoanut trees
now greet you on every side. Along
the beach is located the famous hotel
called "The Breakers," and no more
suitable name could possibly be found
for it. In this great caravansary gather
thousands of visitors in friendship and
amity. It is a delightful place to stay.
The beach is a constant source of pleas-
ure, with the white surf breaking on it,
suggesting a marine picture by the im-
mortal Turner. This is the true lotus
land, and the traveler finds himself mur-
mering,

"O, rest ye brother mariners, we will
not wander more."

Near the hotel are the swimming pools,
in which the waters of the ocean can be
utilized in the open air by those who
prefer this to surf bathing. Near-by are
a number of picturesque cottages and
villas, and it was here that Joe Jefferson
passed many pleasant hours with his
friend Henry M. Flagler.

The idea of Palm Beach seems to be

AND HERE THE TROPICAL CLIMAX

that at least once a year here shall be
gathered all the ultra wealth of the coun-
try, for "you have to be quite wealthy
to play the game at all" at Palm Beach.
The hours of pleasure there are meas-
ured largely by the amount of money
one is able to spend, but there is nothing
lacking in this great Flo-
rida Newport and even
that famed and fashion-
able resort in its palmiest
days could not rival Palm
Beach. The environment,
the climate, all are most
desirable for the pleasure
seeker and provide one
ceaseless round of amuse-
ment.

Not far from The Break-
ers is the Ponciana Hotel,
which is perhaps, the cen-
ter attraction in a tour of
the Flagler Hotels. On en-
tering the great rotunda
the visitor finds Fishtail
Palms adorning the center
and music softly floating
through the air. The wide
corridors seemed to me to
extend as far as the eye
could see. The double
decked balconies suggest
the South, but every where
is the neatness of a New
England Priscilla. Great
credit is certainly due to
Mr. Fred Sterry for the
way in which these hotels
have been managed.

Lake Worth is one side
and the ocean on the other
side of Palm Beach, and
West Palm Beach is the
name of the thriving city
on the opposite side of
the lake. It is a prosper-
ous little Florida city and
wherever you go you find
the spirit of H. M. Flagler,
for everything is kept with

the same thoroughness and dispatch
which characterizes all the undertakings
with which his name has been identified.
It was amusing to hear one old inhabi-
tant hold forth on the delights of his
native place:
"This is one of the most healthiest

AND HERE THE TROPICAL CLIMAX

spots on God's earth. That can be pro-
ved by facts. There was only seven
deaths in Palm Beach last year — two
was caused by drowning, two was folks
that came in sick from the North, two
committed suicide and the seventh died
of old age. Now there you are, how's
that for a health bill?" he wound up
triumphantly.

It appeared that no one ever had a
cold but all were happy and content in
this favored spot. Of course it became
hot in the middle of the day, but my old
friend assured me that they got accus-
tomed to that, just as we do to the cold
of the North. Well, I began to think
that perhaps Ponce de Leon was about
right when he searched Florida for the
fountain of youth, for it was truly a diffi-
cult thing to find an undertaker or a
doctor anywhere in this Southern city—
and if no one died, of course youth must
be eternal.

The real climax of my visit I have
kept for the final page, not

"Because this verse must be the last,

And that's the reason why I've kept it to
the end,"

but because what I saw here impressed
me most of all. On a peninsula project-
ing into Lake Worth is the favorite home

of Henry M. Flagler, which is called
"Whitehall" and of all the beautiful
places I have ever seen on this terrestrial
sphere, this one is simply superla-
tive.

The house is flanked on either side by
pergolas. Here and there are Wash-
ington palms, royal palms, cocoanout
palms and the verdant poinsettias. A
wide range of the flora of Florida is
represented here. On this balmy Janu-
ary day, when the bleak blizzard was
blowing across the North, I was privi-
leged to fondle the tender blossoms of
Springtime; here the air was redolent
with the rich fragrance of Floridan
flowers, for there were flowers and flow-
ers to spare, beneath the ever graceful
yet crooked cocoanut palms, that waved
a greeting on every side.

The entrance to the home of Mr.
Falgler is a very large, stately hall of
rectangular shape. The stairway pro-
jects on either side and the great marble
columns and Venetian tables, the tapes-
tries and rugs make a picture of splendor
which I had not witnessed even in the
palace of Versailles. It suggested the
time when art flourished and the glory of
Louis of France was at its height Yet
there was such an artistic and simple
touch in it all that a visit here was equal
to a day's study in an art gallery.

CLJQUOT
GINGER ALE

By Joe Mitchell Chappie

THE CT»NE IS THIS DKPOT • AMB

FROM ALL PARTS OF THK

COUNTRY

I HAVE
not drunk
deep of the
empyrean
springs, but
it occurs to
me that I
have sipped
the waters
of Carlsbad

in Germany, taken deep draughts of
Vichy water, in France, visited Leaming-
ton Spa, in England, been on the very
spot where Appolinaris water gurgles
forth, and have quaffed Poland water in
its native haunts, to make no mention
of the Hunyadi water consumed at Buda
Pesth. Hold on! I said to myself all
this knowledge of waters is but another
reason why my curiosity should be ex-
cited concerning temperance drinks of
all kinds, for, goodness knows, I never
needed to seek all these waters for my
health. Much had I heard
of another drink and one
that I desired to know more
about, — it was Clicquot Club
Ginger Ale. So to Millis I
went to see where the Clic-
quot spring is located and
that famous ginger ale is
made. It is twenty-two miles
from Boston, a beautiful ride
by steam cars through the
Newtons.

The railroad station at
Millis is unique and will
particularly interest tourists
seeking wonders among Bos-
ton's suburbs.

Mr. Lansing Millis, to whose
enterprise the town owes much, con-
ceived the idea of building the railway
station of rock specimens gathered from
all over the world. In addition to. his
own collection, he was tendered many
others cut with the initials or monograms
of railroad lines in this, and other coun-
tries. The effect is artistic and sets
one's fancy into action, thus warming
the blood for the sparkling and cooling
Clicquot Ginger Ale we had come to
enjoy.

A little way from the station and near
the track we observed the . prosperous
looking buildings of the Clicquot Club
Company. Even the distant view im-
pressed one with the thrift and enter-
prise of the institution. The bottling
works were located at this spring seven-
teen years ago, after the water had been
given exhaustive tests for purity and
chemically analyzed for the elements

THE CHEMICAL LABORATORY WHERE THE COMPOUNDING
DONE WITH THE EXACTNESS OF SCIENCE

CLIQUOIT CLUB GINGER ALE

essential for retaining the carbonate or
soda gas with which the bottles are
charged. All the desired elements are
contained in the waters of this spring;
consequently a bottle .of Clicquot. Gin-
ger Ale will, when opened and poured
out, bubble and effervesce for an hour
or more. Another singular feature of
the water is, that it is both laxative and
diuretic, thus offsetting the astringent
agencies of ginger.

Now Clicquot probably is recognized
as the superlative ginger ale of America

stomach as plain cold water would do
when the drinker is in a heated condi-
tion.

The secret of the success of Clicquot
may be expressed in a single sentence.
The very best ingredients are used from
start to finish, compounded with this
chemically pure water so well adapted
for carbonating purposes. For instance,
the very finest cane sugar is used for all
syrups and their Blood Orange soda
water is flavored with Oil of Orange
costing $60. co per pound. The Jamaica

THE TEN LARGE CARBONATORS ARE IN THIS ROOM, AND THE MACHINE (60 FEET LONG) FOR WASHING
THE BOTTLES, WHICH ARE ALSO THOROUGHLY STERILIZED.

and of the world today; for I drank Bel-
fast Ginger Ale in Belfast, and partook
of Clicquot at Millis and can solemnly
aver, if I may be regarded as a connois-
seur of such drinks, that the American
Ale is better. It is possessed of prop-
erties that are both wholesome and
refreshing. You may remember how
in the harvest fields under the hot sun,
ginger water sweetened with molasses
is always served; and how football play-
ers and athletes are given ginger ale
to drink because it does not injure the

Ginger used is the choicest grade and
comes direct from the West Indies. The
best of everything in fact is secured irre-
spective of cost.

As I sampled the many kinds of car-
bonated drinks that are prepared here, it
seemed as though I was drinking enough
to upset the stomach of anything, save
a duck or a fish, and yet I drank on and
suffered no nausea. Among the bever-
ages beside Clicquot Ginger Ale which
the firm bottles and puts up, may be
mentioned Lemon, Blood Orange, Birch,

CLIQUOIT CLUB GINGER ALE

Sarsaparilla and Cyc-Kola,
a nervetonic, rapidly becom-
ing a very popular drink. In
all these beverages it seemed
as though there must be a
cream or a rich oil, so soft
and mellow were the blend-
ings arranged.

The Clicquot Club Com-
pany is capitalized at
$250,000. Its plant consists
of three buildings with a floor
space of 45,000 square feet.
Its capacity is already 3,000
dozen per day and soon to be
increased. In the warehouse I saw
about a quarter - million cases stored,
for this is one of the few factories which
run nearly the whole year through in
order to supply the trade. They believe
in aging their stock %nd allow ample
time to test the contents of every bottle.
I could picture in my mind's eye as I
looked at those cases, the many picnic
parties, the scenes at sea-side resorts, on
hotel piazzas and at home tables, where
the contents of these bottles would serve
to quench the Summer thirst of thou-
sands; however, Clicquot is not only a
delicious Summer drink, but it has be-
come the popular table beverage for
every month in the year.

Entering the bottling works I saw a
large machine, sixty feet in length
that is used inwashing the bottles,
which are all thoroughly sterilized
before using. Ten large carbonators
supply gas for the bottlers as they
seal the stoppers on the bottles;
finally the bottles are labeled with all
the daintiness and neatness be-
stowed on the best champagne. The
whole establishment from the engine
room to the shipping room sparkles with
the neatness of a New England kitchen,
it fairly shines with cleanliness. It
means a great deal to the consumer to
know just how the product is made, and
from whence it comes, as well as all the

MAIN BUILDINGS OF THE CLICQUOT CLUB COMPANY.

conditions of manufacture. // is not-
able that in' Clicquot Ginger Ale no
preservative is used. It is guaranteed
to comply with all pure food laws.
And it is made with the strictest and
most careful attention to having it chemi-
cally wholesome. Pure, piquant and
popular are the three words which epit-
omize Clicquot; and it is said that there
is more real satisfaction in one large
(and they are large) bottle of Clicquot
than in twice the quantity of ordinary
Ginger Ale.

It was late in the afternoon when I
left the factory. I had been shown
about the plant by Mr. C. W. Sanford,
secretary of the company. Mr. H. Earle
Kimball is treasurer, and Mr. H. A.
Kimball, of Providence, R. I., is presi-
dent. They certainly have reason to be
proud of their plant and the production
of an American Ginger Ale which is
superior to any in the world.

This information will appeal to tee-
totalers, for it can no longer be urged that
champagne is the only sparkling drink
which may grace the banquet board.

Let us pledge you heartily in a glass
of Clicquot Club Ginger Ale. Here's
to your good health, and your family's
good health. May you live long, and
be refreshed in the sultry days to come
with Clicquot Ginger Ale, America's
drink, par excellence.

ROCHESTER-

LOOKING NORTH TOWARD LAKE ONTARIO — GENESEE RIVER DIVIDES
THE CITY

ROCHESTER, NEW YORK— THE FLOWER CITY

THE popula-
* tion of Roch-
ester is at pres-
ent about 200,-
ooo. It has 1 20
churches, eight
hospitals, and
some 2,750 man-
ufacturing estab-
blishments. The
employes in fac-
tories and work
shops are esti-
mated at 60,000.
There are over
twenty-four fire
companies, with
a system of ex-
tension in hy-
drants, appara-
tus, and em-
ployes, the lat-
ter numbering about 225. The city has an
area of 1 1,365 acres; there are 325 miles of
open streets and 126 miles of improved
streets. It has an excellent electric
street car system of 103 miles, tapping
various other systems with ramifications
that extend to or are in process of exten-
sion to Buffalo, and Niagara Falls on
the west, Syracuse and the intervening
towns on the east, Auburn, Canandaigua
and intervening towns on the south.

CHAMBER OF COMMERCE
BUILDING

These trolley lines are destined to be
very rich sources of revenue to the mer-
chants of Rochester, providing rapid
transit to a prodigious area of produce
raising country within a radius of 100
miles from the city, enabling farmers
and stock raisers and their families easy
access to Rochester. The city has about
280 miles of water pipes, about 230 miles
of sewers. Eleven steam railroads enter
the city. Ten bridges span the Genesee
river within the city limits.

The Genesee river is capable of pro-
ducing 50,000 horse power, about 10,000
of which by electricity is now in use.

MAIN AND ST. PAUL STREETS

ROCHESTER, NEW YORK — THE FLOWER CITY

The matter of securing the full power
capacity is a subject that will continue
to engage the earnest attention of the
chamber of commerce.

Rochester enjoys the purest water sup-
ply for domestic uses of any city in the
United States; its Hemlock lake system
delivering 22,000,000 gallons daily. It
is hoped to reserve this water exclusively
for household use by securing an ade-
quate supply of other high grade water
'for manufacturing purposes, which should
be of such a quality that in case any

The coal consumed in and shipped
from Rochester annually amounts to over
360,000 tons of anthracite, and 640,000
tons of bituminous. Over $50,000,000 is
invested in manufacturing and the whole-
sale trades and the value of annual manu-.
factured products exceeds $70,000,000.
It is the first city in the world for the
production of photographic apparatus,
optical instruments and nufsery stock,
the third city in the United States in
the manufacture of clothing, fourth city
in the manufacture of boots and shoes,

UPPER FALLS OF GENESEE — 96 FEET HIGH

accident happened to the Hemlock con-
duits, the water for manufacturing sup-
ply might be used temporarily for domes-
tic purposes with a minimum of risk to
health.

As the health of a city largely depends
upon the opportunities given its inhabi-
tants for the enjoyment of fresh air and
recreation, the city is equipped with one
of the best -park systems in the country.
These parks contain an area of 696 acres,
containing as they do over i ,200 varieties
of shrubs and foliage, and larger trees of
almost every known species.

the combined amount of products of the
two latter industries alone being over
$17,000,000 annually. It has the largest
preserving establishment, cider and vine-
gar factory, lubricating oil plant and
button .factory in the world.

The educational advantages found in
Rochester are of the best. The city
boasts of thirty-eight public schools,
with an average attendance of 19,000 pu-
pils, supervised by 674 teachers. A Nor-
mal Training school, attendance 794. Two
high schools attendance over 3,000. A
Mechanics Institute with over 4,000 stu-

ROCHESTER, NEW YORK — THE FLOWER CITY

ROCHESTER SAVINGS BANK

dents. A university with 270 students.
Wagner Memorial college, and the
Rochester Theological seminary, under
the control of the Baptist denomination.
There are also eighteen parochial schools,
two academies for girls, one academy for
boys, and St. Bernard's. Theological
Seminary.

The church accommodations of Roch-
ester are seventeen Baptist, two Chris-
tian, two Congregational, three Evan-
gelical, two Evangelical Association, one
Holland Christian Reformed, six Jewish
congregations, thirteen Lutheran, four-
teen Methodist Episcopal, one Free
Methodist, fourteen Presbyterian, one
United Presbyterian, twelve Protestant
Episcopal, one Reformed Church in
United States, seventeen Roman Catho-
lic churches and a Cathedral, one Sec-
ond Adventist, one Unitarian, one Uni-
versalist, beside a church each for Christ-
adelphians, Church of the Stranger,
First Church of Christ, (Scientist,) First
Spiritual Church, People's Rescue Mis-
sion, Rochester Italian Mission, Second
Church of Christ, (Scientist).

The hospitals include St. Mary's, City
hospital, Rochester Homeopathic hospi-
tal, Rochester Hahnemann hospital, In-
fant's Summer hospital, new Municipal
hospital for contagious diseases and a
State hospital.

The library accommodations of Roch-
ester are excellent, and continually in

process of extension. The Reynolds'
library, the Central library, the Univer-
sity of Rochester library, the Rochester
Theological seminary library, the St.
Bernard Theological seminary library,
the Fourth Appellate Division Law
Library and the Powers Law library,
with a total of over 200,000 volumes.

Rochester is pre-eminently a city of
homes. The palaces of the rich and the
cottages of the industrial classes are seen
on every side. The majority of the
people own their own homes, which ac-
counts largely for the permanent pros-
perity of the city. The reason is simple,
for the city has a greater diversity of
industries than any other place of its
size, and all can find employment with
opportunities for advancement by the
exercise of industry, prudence and pa-
tience.

For a period of nearly forty years
Rochester has held the eminent position
of being one of the great centers for the
manufacture of boots and shoes in
America. There are only three or four
cities that surpass this city in the shoe
trade. Although the shoe manufactur-
ing industry has largely increased in the
West during the past few years, it is
a remarkable fact that during the past
decade and more the establishment of
new concerns for the manufacture of
shoes has been a marked feature in the
industrial growth of the city. Rochester
is noted for the production of women's
shoes and holds second place in the
United States in their manufacture.
Philadelphia alone is ahead in point
of quantity but not in that of
quality. In addition to women's shoes
the Rochester output includes the best
lines of misses', youths', boys', chil-
dren's and infants' shoes, which are
marketed in every large city on the con-
tinent. There are seventy factories,
many of which are small concerns, mak-
ing what are called cacks or soft soles.
Over $3,000,000 is invested in the shoe
industry in Rochester, and nearly
$2,000,000 in wages are annually paid
to employes. The value of the shoe
product in this city is officially stated to
be about $10,000,000 per annum.

Rochester is experiencing prosperity
surpassing all records. This can be
most readily noticed among its banks.
These financial institutions show an in-
crease last year of over #9,000,000 in
their deposits. The depoists for 1905
were $119,042,135.

ROCHESTER, NEW YORK — THE FLOWER CITY

The city is almost free of labor
troubles and because of this Cluett,
Peabody & Co. left the seat of their
trouble in Troy and now rank with the
large concerns of Rochester.

Who is there in this broad land who
does not know of Rochester made cloth-
ing?

The annual output of the Rochester
clothing factories amounts to over twenty
million dollars. In this Rochester is
surpassed by but three cities in the
United States— New York, Philadelphia
and Chicago. But in the matter of
quality and style Rochester stands first
and practically alone, because the styles
in clothing emanate from this city to
a large extent and because on Rochester
clothing more thought and pains and
money are expended in workmanship,
quality of fabrics and furnishings, than
upon the productions of any other
clothes manufacturing establishments in
the world.

The clothing industry of Rochester
has done very much to advertise and
build up the city. The industry has
made millionaires of some of its manu-
facturers and made others engaged in
the trade rich beyond expectation.

A remarkable feature in connection
with Rochester's clothing industry is
the fact that many merchants residing
in cities throughout the United States
and in foreign countries have also grown
rich by handling Rochester made cloth-
ing during many years. The reason is
obvious. Those who wear the clothing
are so satisfied with its quality and style
that they always call for it in replenish-
ing their wardrobes.

The census report shows close to 3,000
manufacturing and mechanical establish-
ments employing close to 60,000 hands.
Of this number about one-fourth are
girls over sixteen in the many up-to-date
stores and office buildings that line the
principal streets.

The completion of the new public
market and its quiet adaptation to the
needs of the people has given satisfac-
tion. The farmers have become accus-

tomed to the new order of things; the
market is being run on business princi-
ples and making money and the cry is
now being raised for a similar market on
the west side of the river. So rapidly
is Rochester increasing in wealth and
population that the establishing of a sec-
ond public market seems to be among
the probabilities.

As the years roll by, bringing pros-
perty, wealth and renown to the city,
the need of a convention hall becomes
the more pressing. When the hall is
secured Rochester will become at once a
convention city, which means the visita-
tion there of thousands of people during
each year.

The chamber of commerce is putting
forth every effort toward getting in touch
with any manufacturing institution that
wishes to change its location, and a card
to the secretary for literature will be ap-
preciated. The annual report as arranged
by Mr. John M. Ives, secretary, is dif-
ferent from anything you ever read about
any growing city. It would be well worth
your while to write to him for a copy.

CORNER MAIN AND EXCHANGE STREETS

EARLY SPRING FASHIONS

The early Spring is ever a season of
sartorial interest, although as a matter of
fact we do not, as a rule, need Spring
clothing until April, and this year,
Easter being a bit later than common,
the time of change is likely to be put off
until the last possible moment. Styles
are, however, already established and
tailors and dressmakers are busy making
ready the costumes of the coming sea-
son, whether they will be needed im-
mediately or will not. The short coat
is to reign supreme. Etons, and what
are known as "pony" jackets, share the
honors, so that there is considerable
variety, but the long, fitted coat seems
likely to be relegated to morning wear,
to travel and to occasions of a similar
sort, all the dressier costumes being
made with jaunty little creations that are
exceedingly chic and exceedingly charm-
ing. For the street all skirts will clear
the ground but for the carriage they will
be made in what is known as round
length, while for in-door occasions the
round length and the train prevail for
all except the extremely simple gowns,
which are far more practical when the
skirts do not quite touch. Gray is to
be a prevailing color and is shown in
exquisite suitings, both in mixtures and
in plain tones, but there will also be
a great deal of reseda and of the violet
shades, while such stand-bys as brown
and blue are always worn. White may
be looked for both in reception toilettes
and in the gowns of dinner and evening
wear and for the seaside resorts will be
seen in serge and the like, making coat
suits that are alluring in the extreme.
For in-door wear all soft, crushable silk
and wool materials will retain their favor,
while their number has been added to
until it is very nearly legion.

In the illustration combining 5252 with
5233 is shown one of the prettiest gowns
of semi-dress that the season has brought
forth. The material is the favorite pon-
gee in one of the lovely new shades of
pinkish lavender, while the trimming is
lace of the exact shade of ecru which
harmonizes to perfection with the silk.
The design is a simple one but emi-
nently effective, the waist being made
with an open square and with elbow
sleeves, while the skirt combines a plain
front gore with circular portions that are
tucked over the hips. When liked, how-
ever, the waist can be worn with a

chemisette or can be made with the tucks
extending to the neck and with long
sleeves, so that really the design pro-
vides for several waists in one. For a

DKSIGN Br MAT MANTON.
Tucked Blouse 5252.
Three-Piece Skirt 5233.

woman of medium size will be required,
for the waist four yards of material
twenty-one inches, or two yards if forty-
four inches wide, with two and one-half
yards of banding; for the skirt twelve
yards twenty-one inches, or five yards if
forty-four inches wide with one and one-
fourth yards of all-over lace for the front
gore.

The simpler gowns are for the most
part made with blouse waists, many of
which show the chemisette, that always
is dainty and charming. (5259-5135) is
adapted to taffeta, to veiling, to cash-
mere and to all similar materials, while
also it will be found a most satisfactory
model for linen and for the heavier cot-
ton fabrics, which so many women are
having made at this season of the year.
The waist is made with a chemisette that

EARLY SPRING FASHIONS

can be made of any contrasting material
that may be liked and includes the very
latest sleeves, which allow a choice of
full or elbow length, while the skirt is
seven gored, laid in two tucks at each
seam, and can be made in walking or in
round length. For the medium size
will be required, for the waist three and
one-fourth yards of material twenty-seven
inches, or two and five-eighth yards if
forty-four inches wide, with one-half
yard any width for the chemisette and
five and one-half yards of banding; for
the skirt nine and one-half yards twenty-
seven inches, or five and one-half yards
if forty-four inches wide when material
has up and down; seven and three-quar-
ters yards twenty-seven inches or three
and three-fourths yards if forty-four
inches when it has not.

DESIGN BY MAT MAMTOH.
Blouse with Chemisette 5259.
Seven Gored Skirt 5135.

The plain blouse is one that fills so
many needs that it is a very well de-
served favorite. This one (5267) can be
treated in a number of ways, so becom-
ing the plain waist of daily afternoon
wear, the low waist of the evening or

6267 Plain Blouse.
32 to 42 bust.

the fancy one of intermediate use. As
shown white silk is combined with lace
and the deep cuffs are used, but cuffs of
less depth can be sub-
tituted or these can be
omitted altogether and
the sleeves finished
with bands at the el-
bows, or again the
waist can be cut out
to give a square decol-
letage and made with
the shortpuffedsleeves
that are the very latest
decree of fashion. For
the medium size will
be required three and
one-half yards of ma-
terial twenty-one inches, two and three-
fourths yards twenty-seven inches, or
one and there-fourths yards if forty four
inches wide with one and one-eighth
yards eighteen inches wide and one and
one-half yards of banding.

A great variety of skirts unquestion-
ably will be worn throughout the Spring,
but there is, neverthe-
less, a marked prefer-
ence shown for the
variations of the circu-
lar model. In 5255 is
given one of the best
of these that can be
made either in round
or walking length.
There is a front gore

6266 Three-Piece **« la]dj» inverted
8kirt,22to30waifl*Pa^s and the fulness
at the back is similarly
arranged while between the two the
skirt is plain over the hips but falls in
graceful ripples at the lower portion.
Cloth, wool suitings, silk and linen all
are appropriate with trimming of any sort
that personal preference may fancy. Ma-
terial required for the
medium size is seven
yards twenty-seven in-
ches, or four and one-
half yards of forty-four
or fifty - two inches
wide. No wardrobe is
quite complete without
a pretty and tasteful
house jacket, and the
one illustrated (5265)
is sure to find its own
welcome. It is of pale
blue cashmere trim-
med with cream lace
and is charming for 6265 House Jacket,
immediate wear. 32 to 40 bust.

COCA-COLJ

WHENEVER I go within hailing dis-
tance of a town where a well adver-
tised article is made, I try to plan a
stop-over and a visit to the plant. The
interest in seeing and knowing all about
the plant is whetted if one has personally
tested and found merit in the pro-
ducts of the place— and so on a recent
trip to Florida I stopped over at Atlanta.

Every magazine in the country, every
periodical, every street car running on
our streets has, I suppose, at one time
or another contained the mystical words,
"Coca-Cola," the same identical form
of type that was initiated in the early
campaign, by Secretary F. M. Robinson,
and is still being used as the insignia of
one of the most popular drinks in the
United States, now called the National
drink. In fact, when one stops to think
about it, there is no other beverage that
has so widespread a use in this country,
which forces the conclusion that it must
be a drink of unusual merit.

After a breakfast at "The Piedmont"
I made my way to the viaduct and there
met Mr. St. Elmo Massengale, the
energetic and able advertising agent of
the South. After a brief chat, Mr. Mass-
engale used the telephone and in came
a soda fountain boy with a waiter and we
pledged a greeting in glasses of Coca-
Cola— I tell you it tasted good. I was
not long in discovering that the greatest
soda water fountain city in the world is
Atlanta, one of America's healthiest
cities, and no wonder that Coca-Cola
is in vogue there, for it is a most de-
lightful effervescent drink.

The advertising of this product is very
well managed. Who has not seen the
lithograph portrait of Madame Nordica,
as she appeared in grand opera, but
holding in her hand a glass of Coca-
Cola? This picture was the work of a
Berlin house and it has appeared in
many of our best magazines. To the
advertisement a coupon is sometimes
attached, and I noticed that the white
robed vendors of the soda fountains were
kept busy "with coupon customers de-
manding drinks of Coca-Cola.

Now it is always interesting to analyze
the success of a product. Asa G. Cand-
ler, President of the Coca-Cola Com-
pany's one of the wealthy and substantial
citizens of Georgia, and the handsome
seventeen story building which bears his
name is the finest in the South. It is

the success of such men and such enter-
prises as that of Coca-Cola that does so
much toward advertising energetic cities
like Atlanta. The traveler cannot re-
main there long without imbibing some-
thing of its enthusiastic spirit. Atlanta
is looked upon as the great capital of the
South, and is regarded by all the people
of Georgia as one of the sights to see
and the place of all others which it is
essential to visit. The industrial expo-
sition held in this city years ago did
much to bring it to the front and give it
the prominence which it enjoys today.
We must not forget that this city was the
home of Henry W. Grady, whose mem-
ory is kept green by a handsome statue.
Atlanta is full of suggestions of Joel
Chandler Harris (Uncle Remus) and his
doings, and here resides the sweet singer
of the South, Frank Stanton.

Some two years ago, when the National
Magazine party was in Jamaica, we found
.that the popular drink there was Kola.
In fact, it was mixed with everything
drinkable, from water to forty rod rum.
It seemed to be essential in every hot
weather beverage, and certainly contains
refreshing and slightly stimulating quali-
ties that are deemed necessary during
the Summer. After my return, I found
myself, whenever I approached a soda
fountain, thinking of the kola in Jamaica;
and thus Coca-Cola came to be a favor-
ite drink. Then, too, it has such a sub-
tle way of inviting you to it. There is
always a conspicuous sign somewhere —
perhaps it will be a changing plate, from
which wink the words, "Coca-Cola."

Well, Mr. Massengale and I were not
long in getting out to the home of this
delightful drink, which is situated in a
flat-iron building, on which the sign is
prominently displayed. Inside we met
Mr. F. M. Robinson, the secretary and
manager of the advertising department,
and the person who first produced the bev-
erage and gave it the name "Coca-Cola."
He is as pleasant a man as one could
wish to meet, and has conducted one of
the most notable campaigns ever inaug-
urated for a great national beverage
which may be found almost anywhere
that American enterprise extends — in
Cuba, Porto Rico, the Philippines, and
even in England, France and Germany,
for when once introduced it is sure of
gaining favor.

In the office of Mr. Robinson I was

COCA-COLA

shown a number of Kola nuts about the
size of small walnuts, though they look
like large chestnuts. It is from these
nuts, which grow, like the vanilla bean,
inside a large pod, that kola is procured,
and they are brought from the interior
of Africa. It was through the natives of
that country that the value of this pro-
duct was known. During the strenuous
days of Stanley's march — "Through
darkest Africa" — he found the natives
used these nuts, and discovered that
they were not only refreshing and stimu-
lating but that they also contained valu-
able food properties. The modern bev-
erage is produced by mixing the kola
with the coca leaves of South America.
The nut is the identical kola of the
Congo river country of West Africa, and
the coca leaves are imported from South
America, the best coming from Peru,
where they have been used for centuries
past. In fact these leaves are in daily
use in Peru, Columbia and Brazil, and
their wholesome and nutritive qualities
have beem fully proved. It is known
that they have an excellent effect on the
digestive organs. Thorough and rigid
chemical tests have been made
proving the virtues of these two in-
gredients which combined form one of
the best temperance drinks of the cen-
tury.

Less than a score of years have elapsed
since the first Coca-Cola was sold at the
soda fountain. This momentous event
occurred at Jacobs' Drug store, on
Marietta Street in Atlanta. The sale of
the first year was less than one thousand
gallons, but in 1900, 370,000 gallons were
sold and the output has been more than
one million, five hundred thousand gal-
lons during the year 1905 meaning about
192,000,000 glasses. It was very enter-
taining to go about the factory where the
syrup is made. In the warehouses I saw
the barrels of refined sugar, which came
from Boston and is the best to be ob-
tained. In the great copper vats, capa-
ble of holding 12,000 gallons, I saw the
drink in process of manufacture. Seven
large vats have been added recently to
the equipment, and on every side are
evidences of greater growth. There are
now 234 separate and distinct bottling
establishments throughout the United
States, where Coca-Cola is prepared for
public use. The syrup is shipped from
the factory in large, well made barrels,
thoroughly sterilized— and that cleanli-

ness is regarded as essential in the en-
tire manufacture is a comforting reflec-
tion for those who make this their favor-
ite drink. There is something of irony
in the fact that a great many whiskey
barrels are used for the shipment
of Coca-Cola. It is claimed by peo-
ple who know the facts that this bev-
erage is one of the most effective agents
for temperance, because it satisfies the
terrible thirst created by fermented
liquor, while it leaves no deleterious
after effects. What Glasgow people have
done in establishing tea rooms and
coffee rooms, the American people are
doing by the encouragement of the use
of effervescent drinks at the ubiquitous
soda fountain, and it is claimed that
many of these drinks are more beneficial
than tea or coffee, Coca-Cola notably
containing the constituents of both with-
out the harmful effects. It is also
claimed that it is a panacea for hypo-
chondria.

An interesting incident is told of
a certain popular lecturer who never
appears upon the platform without a
pitcher of Coca-Cola, choosing it in
preference to the old time glass of
water. This gentleman at times speaks
upon temperance, because he finds it
possible to state that he knows of a
beverage capable of quenching thirst.
Probably Coca-Cola is the only drink
for which such properties can be
claimed.

It always gives a man a broader view
of his country to visit other sections than
his own, and find that here, too the same
hopeful and optimistic spirit prevails as
in his own home, for we are sometimes
prone to think of our native place as the
acme of perfection and the only place
where it can be found. No one can visit
Georgia without leaving the dear old
state with regret and the conviction that
whether it is Coca-Cola or the stories of
Joel Chandler Harris, everything is sup-
plied with a free hand and the earnest
desire to make Georgia one of the great-
est states of the Union.

So now, whenever you go to a soda
fountain for a refreshing draught, you
need not stop to read the labels on the
whole array of spigots and bottles, for
if it is a popular drinking fountain there
will be Coca-Cola there, and you can
depend upon it that it will be the best
and most approved beverage in their
complete assortment.

U/E do not agree with the present
lament that America is altogether de-
void of artistic taste, and is submerged
in the making of dollars to the exclusion
of all other interests. In a majority of
instances the accumulation of wealth is
simply the overture to the opening of
the doors for artistic opportunity.

This brings to mind the comment made
by several senators and congressmen
concerning the question whether senti-
ment is in any way a barrier to business
success and suggests making an effort
to find out just what people think on this
matter. We often hear the statement
made :

"Well this is business, not senti-
ment."

The general impression prevails that
sentiment is incompatible with good
business ability. My observation is
somewhat to the contrary, but still my
ideas are more or less limited, though
the following up of the splendid
success of our Heart Throb book has
been a revelation beyond anything
we could anticipate. We wish for
definite information on this matter,
so we are offering two prizes, as
follows.

We anticipate taking a trip to Hono-
lulu in March, 1907. I desire to have
two subscribers with me, and have de-
cided to offer the trip for the two best es-
says on the above subject, but all articles
published will be paid for at regualr
rates, so now is the time 'to start right
out and do your thinking. The only pro-

vison is that you must give a concrete
example of a man of sentiment who has
become a business success. For in-
stance, we should all like to know the
sentimental side of James J. Hill or
Marshall Field, but it is not essential
that the examples of success be taken
from prominent men, it will be all right
for you to sketch the career of your
butcher or your grocer, if they appeal to
you as being men of sentiment who have
made a success, proving that sentiment
is not a barrier to commercial achieve-
ment.

The more I observe, the more I
see that men who seem as cold as the
Egyptian sphynx have succeeded in trade
but I believe they have warm hearts, and
that sentiment has contributed to their
success. I may be wrong, but if so, I
should like to know it.

VEARS ago Marshall Field, whose death
has meant the loss of one of the
greatest merchants of the world, as well
as a personal friend, said: "To work
is to work all the time and to keep con-
stantly in mind your customers and your
patrons, and their interests — serve them
all the time, not during business hours
but night and day. These are little
things, perhaps, but it is the little things
that people appreciate."

These thoughts come to me forcibly
whenever J have a pJayer of note in
mind. I think of it as I wander into the
theatre to see this player or that.

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

Whenever I see the name of Willard on
the boards I run up to the theatre.

It was at the New Amsterdam that I
saw him once more, and it seemed like
meeting an old friend as I looked at him
over the footlights in "A Pair of Spec-
tacles." What an interesting phase of
human nature is revealed in that play
and who but a Willard could give that
sympathetic touch! Every time he put
on the spectacles his entire nature
changed. Of course there is always
a winsomeness in Willard, but the best
of all is that he is not one thing behind
the footlights and another in person.

The night I went there was a double
bill; the second piece was a powerful
rendition of "The Man Who Was."
Here was another rare display of Wil-
lard's genius. What a thrilling picture
it was, a rare portrayal of English army
life and what a powerful moment it was
when the demented old soldier of the
White Huzzars looked upon the face on
the wall and recognized in those placid
features the Queen, which rent aside the
veil and restored lost reason and showed
to his comrades in arms that like Rip
Van Winkle he had regained the power to
live.

All this cast a spell over me and I
wandered down the aisle and behind the
scenes and found my good friend still in
the robes of the "man who was," but
in the gleam of his eyes there was the
real Willard. He is an artist to his finger
tips, and an artist whom the people love.
In his long and eventful career he has
endeared himself to a loyal constituency
of American playgoers, such as few
actors of the American stage are privi-
leged to possess.

Not long after this I had a chance to
see another actor, William Gillette, who
always has such a quiet, pleasant way,
even if he plays Sherlock Holmes. He
has a way of worming himself into one's
heart, whether as Sherlock Holmes or in
his new play, "Clarice."

William Gillette wrote this comedy-

drama, "Clarice," in the hills of North
Carolina, and somehow it has the real
touch and atmosphere of the Carolina
mountains. It was produced by Mr.
Frohman at the Duke of York in 1905
and ran with great success for four
months. But the first American produc-
tion was on the Colonial stage at Christ-
mas. It met with a brilliant success and
the management were obliged to cancel
all out of town engagements to give the
twelve extra matinees demanded at the
Colonial. I would like to give the plot
of the play, which is so subtle, and the
love making which is so wholesome,
but space forbids. There is not a mo-
ment in which the intensity of the dra-
matic situation is not manifest, even
though a word may not be spoken. Gill-
ette has that way with him. As he was
picking to pieces a rose which Clarice,
his ward, had given to him, even the
silence was eloquent. The fight with
himself to give up the young girl, be-
cause he thinks it for her advantage, and
then the revulsion of feeling when the
keen intuition of the woman knew and
felt the intensity of that love, despite
the cruel words and actions which belied
the heart of the man, reveal a touch of
sovereign love that is especially appro-
priate in these days of doubt.

It was stated at one time that the peo-
ple would never tolerate William Gillette
in anything but Sherlock Holmes, but
he has triumphed in his own play and
is revealing those heart touches which
are more dear to the people than any
achievement, whether it be that of an
actor or any other artist.

IF every reader of the National Maga-
zine realized how important it is to
answer the advertisements in the maga-
zine, I am sure there would be a flood
of • inquiries poured in upon all our
advertisers. They want your attention
and business,' and it is certainly worth
your while to get acquainted with them.

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

We go through the ceremony of intro-
ducing you to them each month, and
we should like you to keep right in touch
with them.

The. other day I was perplexed as to
what to get for a birthday present. I
felt I must have the very best obtain-
able, yet of course there was some limita-
tion as to price. It did no good to wan-
der through the shops down town. In
my desperation I wrote to my good
friend Mr. Hussey, of the Baird-North
Company, of Salem, Massachusetts. In
a few lines I told him of my predica-
ment, and asked him to send me some-
thing for my wife's birthday — anything
except a watch or a locket. That good
natured man sent exactly the right thing.
Mr. Hussey is in the business and knows
just what people like to have.

I should like every reader of the Na-
tional Magazine to know Mr. Hussey.
You may all have perfect confidence in
sending to him for a present for any-
body for whom you desire an espe-
cially pleasing gift. If the article sent
is not exactly what you wish, rest as-
sured that the good reliable firm of
Baird-North Company will see that it is
made right for you.

I have had an argument with Mr.
Hussey on this subject. I said to him
that people would buy birthday, wedding
and anniversary gifts at other times be-
side Christmas, but he insisted that it
was useless for him to advertise except
in the month of November in prepara-
tion for the holiday trade.

I suggested that statistics prove such
events occur all the year round. Nor
can I believe that our readers give pres-
ents only in December. So now, if you
desire a present for a friend, sit down
and write to Mr. Hussey just what you
want and add another link to the chain
that binds human nature together in the
spirit of good cheer and cooperation.

Mr. Hussey's ad for the Baird-North
Company, Salem, is on another page,
but I think if you mention to him that

you want to buy something on the Joe
Chappie special service plan, he will
understand just what you desire. He
has made a study of the tastes of the
people in the matter of presents, and
ideas will occur to him which we ordi-
nary mortals never would have.

r\EAR BILLY! I knew it all along,
though never a word was spoken on
the subject. He was in the birth throes
of getting out a book. He came to the
National office one sultry August after-
noon and we had one of those delightful
chats, in which we talked over some of
the great problems of life, both here and
hereafter, and never for a moment was
there a lack of that genial optimism,
good cheer and wholesome love of hu-
manity which defies analysis but is at
once felt by everyone who comes into
contact with Billy.

Since those days I have had placed in
my hands a book called "Frozen Dog
Tales and Other Things," by Colonel
William Hunter, printed by the Everett
Press. The pages are elaborately illus-
trated, and the book comes like a frag-
rant breath of Spring after a long and
weary Winter. There is something in
the description of the Frozen Dog Quad-
rille, to the tune of Money Musk, that
sets one's feet a-going, while the tender
feeling expressed in. the little poem,
"Leavin' Home" is something we have
all felt. The book gives a wholesome
touch of Western life and the broad
sweep of the prairies, such as we have
not had since the days of Bret Harte.

No strictly American library would be
quite complete without a copy of Frozen
Dog Tales. I feel you will all enjoy
reading it because it is unique, it stirs
the sluggish blood, giving glimpses of
real pioneer life that read like a fairy
tale to Eastern people. It is the experi-
enqe of a man who has closely observed
his fellows and given character of all
kinds much thought and study. In

PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT

"The Editor's Vision" he measures up
the various sorts of aristocracy and con-
cludes that the aristocracy of brains is
the only one of them all that will last.
"He who belongs to the aristocracy of
knowledge is the real man."

Occasionally a sound piece of advice
is embodied in the commonest language.
"A fur collar on an overcoat is no
evidence that the man has an under-
shirt." His plea for "The Old Fash-
ioned Home" is something that will ap-
peal to every dweller in a city, while it
will strengthen the love of home in the
hearts of country readers.

The book abounds in homely aphor-
isms. "We hear a great deal about
'has-beens,' but our investigation shows
they are ' never- wases.' " "An imitator
can't make a success any more than a
crow can be. an eagle."

"The man who gets mad easily suffers
more mental torture than the man he
gets mad at."

"Grizzly Pete says, 'The man what
talks too much is settin' traps fer him-
self.' "

"Link Duke says the college educa-
tion often has the effect of making some
fellows too smart to work and not smart
enough to get along without working."
It is true that it may occasionally occur
to the. reader that the maxims of Frozen
Dog do not quite agree with the practice
of the citizens. In theory they believe
in loving each other and doing unto
others as they would they should do unto

them, but occasionally the Frozen " Dog-
gers" sally forth and smite their neigh-
bors "hip and thigh" for some minor
offence, usually verbal, while "necktie
parties" are so plentiful as to cause the
Eastern reader to feel a cold chill run
down his spine. But then where is there
a community that is not more or less in-
consistent?

Colonel Hunter is not only a business
man, a writer and an advertising man,
but is also an all-round good fellow with
a legion of friends, and always with
a hand outstretched ready to help the
man who is down. I suppose we shall
still continue to call the talented author
Colonel William Hunter, because for my
part I cannot remember the time when
he was not a colonel, a member of the
governor's staff in Wyoming, and I
suppose there will not be a time when
he will not still bear that title. But after
all his other claims for popularity have
been considered, I believe his fame will
rest more surely on what he has given
in this handsome little volume than on
anything else he has ever done up to
this time. But remember this is dated
— there is no telling what Hunter may
do in the years to come.

I found a favorite nook for Frozen
Dog Tales in my library and when I
want to have memories awakened of a
trip over the Rockies, I take down that
little volume and revel in the heart
warmth of one of the best fellows I
know.

The Book of the People, for the People and by the People

MR. JOE CHAPPLE,

NATIONAL MAGAZINE,

BOSTON, MASS.

Please send me one volume of "HEART THROBS" bound in cloth
and gilt with illuminated cover, for which I agree to pay $1.50 on receipt
of book.

Nam*,.

7/7-35

Street.

City or Town,.
State,...

MAY 1966
;

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