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ESTABL!
LAWRENCE
THE
NATIONAL MAGAZINE
AN
Hilustratefc Hmertcan
Volume XXXIII: November, 1910— April, 1911
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
CHAPPLE PUBLISHING COMPANY, LTD.
944 DORCHESTER AVENUE
Tf.-ft
7^
INDEX
TO
THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE
Volume XXXIII: November, 1910— April, 1911
FRONTISPIECE
NOVEMBER — Map of Florida. - ,
DECEMBER — The Pensive One W. H. Upham.
Holiday Greeting The Editor.
Holiday Greetings from our Friends: Thomas A. Edison, E. A. Stedman,
Walter Wellman, Booker T. Washington, Rev. John Wesley Hill, Senator
Bristow, Wayne McVeagh, Gifford Pinchot, John T. Dryden, Andrew
Carnegie, Charles W. Fairbanks, Elbert Hubbard, John Wanamaker,
Admiral Dewey, Gen. Horace Porter, Paul Morton, Archbishop Ireland,
John Mitchell, Alice French and Senator Burton.
JANUARY — The Unrolling of the Scroll Arthur Hutchins
FEBRUARY — "The Ever-Blooming Tenderfoot" . . . .Arthur Hutchins.
Verse by Flynn Wayne.
APRIL— "The Guest of Honor" Arthur Hutchins.
DEPARTMENTS
Affairs at Washington Joe Mitchell Chappie, 1-132-285
407-585-743
Musical Records for the Month Frederick Hulzmann, 128-266-431
575-735-889
Let's Talk it Over By the Publisher
NOVEMBER — The Woolworth 5 and 10 Cent Stores — Boston Sculpture Company's Mel-
rose Studios — Associated Advertising Clubs — Convention at Omaha —
James Whitcomb Riley, the people's poet — Howard Chandler Christy,
designer.
DECEMBER — Dr. Russell Kenyon Carter — The Jewish Times — "The Mountain that was
Good," John H. Williams.
JANUARY— The Chappie "Heart Books"— McKinley and the National— Colonel John
Hicks' "Something about Singlefoot"— Arthur E. Stilwell's "Confidence, or
National Suicide— The Portland Cement Industry— William Hodge's "The
Guest of Honor"— Popularity— Bennett Chappie's "The Man who Discovered
the Alphabet."
FEBRUARY — New York — Henry Dumont's "A Golden Fancy" — On the Limited.
MARCH— John Adams Thayer's "Aster"— Rev. Silas C. Swallow's "III Score and X"-
Isabel Anderson's "Captain Ginger's Fairy"— Raymond Patterson's "The
Central Bank Controversy" — Piano-players — Swift's Premium Calendar —
Gillette's razors and the Barber of Seville— Bronxville, N. Y— The Kansas
City Humane Society — Travellers Cheques.
APRIL— Alabama Progress— The Overland Wind Wagons— What becomes of the Pins.
The Home . . . Contributed.
INDEX
No\ EMBER — Receipts.
DECEMBER — Receipts.
Correspondence Ann Randolph.
JANUARY — Receipt s .
FEBRUARY — Correspondence Ann Randolph.
Receipts.
APRIL — Various Receipts.
In the Cosy Corner Reader Contributors 895
ESSAYS AND ILLUSTRATED ARTICLES
A Century's Growth in Federal Expenditures Fred P. Fellows . . 795
Being a comparison of the estimates for 1802
with expenditures for 1911
A Day at the Stout Institute. Illustrated Mitchell Mannering 221
A Day in Washington's Country. Profusely illus-
trated from original photographs Joseph G. Butler, Jr 440
A Flight to the Southland By the Editor 413
Among the Nation's Advertising Clubs. Illustrated Joe Mitchell Chappie 227
A Prayer for the Babies Walter Rauschenbusch 538
An Arkansas Novel and its Author. Illustrated . .. Evelyn Schuyler Schaeffer 193
An English View of American Politics S. T. Cook 268
And They Shall Bear Each Other's Burdens James Byram 571
Author of "There is no Death" The Taylor Hatfield 106
A World Contract Robert J. Thompson 31
Showing the Necessity of Statutory Inter- American Consul, Hanover, Germany
national Law as a Precedent to International
Courts of Arbitration
Bancoran, The Coral Island in the Sulu Sea. Illus. . Isabel Anderson 880
Bird Men at Squantum Field, The. Illustrated by
Arthur Hutchins Will H. Chappie 13
Books in an Editorial Workshop Joe Mitchell Chappie 800
Chicago's Marvelous Electrical Development W. C. Jenkins 397
Chicago's New Railway Terminal. Illustrated .. .Joe Mitchell Chappie 699
Children's Centennial Pageant. Illustrated By the Editor 543
The City of Inland Art Mitchell Mannering 409
Concerning the Income Tax Wm. E. Borah 379
United States Senator
Conservation — A Minnesota Slogan Leroy Boughner 95
Delivering the Goods Rev. George Wood Anderson . . 695
First Aid to the Injured. Illustrated H. H. Hartung, M.D 107
Flashlights of Public Men. Illustrated Edward H. Brush 259
Florida, Land of Enchantment. Profusely Illus. . . . Garnault Agassiz 34
From Dust We Came Frank P. Fogg 559
Functions of the Postal Service Nathan B. Williams 28
Fundamentals of Taxation J. W. Zuver . 248
High Cost of Living, The. Illustrated W. C. Jenkins 365
How Mark Twain was Made. Illustrated George Wharton James 525
Inspiration of Washington, The. Profusely Illus-
trated with pencil drawings by the author Arthur Hutchins 161
Is the Millionaire a Menace? Judge Joseph Crockett Mitchell 468
In the Days of the "Old West" Joe Mitchell Chappie 728
Lost and Hidden Treasure Charles Winslow Hall 803
Kyd and Bandello John McGovern and Jesse Ed-
son Hall . 242
INDEX
Man Whose Dream Came True, The Mitchell Mannering 130
Musical Season in America, The. Profusely Illus-
trated with artists and composers in the public
eye Arthur B. Wilson 249
Need of More Railways in the Northwest. Illus. . . . W. C. Jenkins 905
Nobility of the Trades, the Blacksmith. Illus. . . .Charles Winslow Hall 233
Nobility of the Trades, the Carpenter. Illustrated
with rare old drawings Charles Winslow Hall 317
Nobility of the Trades, the Shipbuilder. Illustrated
with rare old drawings Charles Winslow Hall 495
Nobility of the Trades (Doctors and Surgeons).
Illustrated Charles Winslow Hall 841
Nobility of the Trades, the Apothecary or Druggist.
Profusely Illustrated Charles Winslow Hall 713
Nestor of Exploitation, The R. E. Norton 377
New Work at Tuskegee Institute. Illustrated Joe Mitchell Chappie 617
Open Door to Florida, The 134
On the Vicksburg Battlefield. Illustrated By the Editor 186
Passing of Father, The. Being a tribute of the four
Chappie brothers The Publishers 511
Passing the Plow Horse. Illustrated John Arbuthnotte 216
Presidents of America, The. Profusely Illustrated
with half-tone engravings Mitchell Mannering 809
Rapid Disappearance of the Forests. Profusely
Illustrated with photographs furnished by the
government forestry service W. C. Jenkins 479
Recent Progress in Telephony W. C. Jenkins 273
Romance of a Sky Pilot, A Edgar Wm. Dynes . . 730
Science of Exercise, The J. Edmund Thompson 891
Serious Aspect of German Potash Contracts W. C. Jenkins 668
Some Consequences of Telephone Competition J. N. Kins 563
Some Popular Songs and a Group of Apartments.
Story Grace Agnes Thompson 721
Story of an Agricultural Editor Mitchell Mannering 556
What Co-operation Means Mitchell Mannering 433
When We Dined with Lady Zu Isabel Anderson 726
Where Newspaper Men are Trained. Illustrated .By the Publisher 551
FICTION
A Last Will B. F. McMillan 363
A Plea for Clemency. Illustrated Florence Miriam Chapin 389
Case of the Crown Jewels, The Maitland LeRoy Osborne 853
Graft in the Graveyard Marie Conway Oemler 649
Creegan's Tunnel Adventure Frederick Willis 359
Dinah Fletcherizes Edith Fancher 327
Everybody Works but Father Gertrude B. Millard 181
Goldstein's Matrimony Window Louis B. Kinder 471
Drawing by Louis Grant
Great Coup, The. Serial. Illustrated Frank E. Channon 97-169
A Guess for Life Fannie C. Griffing 456
Guest of Honor, The. Serial William Hodge 625-777
The beginning of a most interesting story. Illus.
His Masterpiece 1 Wesley Early 282
INDEX
His Presence of Mind. A thrilling football story
Illustrated by Louis F. Grant Antony Dee 23
Island of Peace, The Stuart B. Stone 865
I was a Stranger. Illustrated Jennie Harris Oliver 201
Kiss and the Queue, The Isabel Anderson 539
Letters, The. Illustrated L. M. Montgomery 119
Liberty Pole, The. Illustrated Anstis Maida Fairbrother 660
Library of Lies, The Stuart B. Stone 353
Lifelong Dividends on Fifteen Cents Author's name withheld . ^ . . . 460
Mote in His Eye, The. Illustrated Henry L. Kiner 673
Public Career of 'Lige Taylor, The. Illustrated . . Paul Suter 546
Rum Cove Gertrude Robinson 245
Short Man from Long Creek, The. Illustrated . .Will Gage Carey 209
Song of the Soul, The. Illustrated Ora Lee Bargamin Ill
Story of a Man Who Made Good, The. Illustrated Harry Lee Snyder 642
Teddy's Trip to Mars Russell K. Carter (Orr Kenyon) 447
Illustrated with line drawing
Unconscious Influence of Jim, The Flynn Wayne 284
Unrolling of the Scroll, The Minnie Barbour Adams 384
Wedding Trip for One, A. Illustrated Zoe Hartman 858
What a Woman Knows Ora Lee Bargamin 654
Letters of Marie, an actress. Illustrated
VERSE
A Fragment Henry Dumont in "A Golden
Fancy" 383
A Rose to a Friend C. A. Fernald 325
A Spring Poem Dora M. Hepner 808
At Home Bayard Taylor in "Heart
Throbs" 802
Chequamegon William McGrath 720
Conqueror, The Emil Carl Aurin 794
Fancy's Realm William Janvrin West 352
Florence Nightingale Isaac Bassett Choate 33
For All These From the book "Heart Throbs" 436
God's Mariner Edna Dean Proctor 793
Heavenly Way, The Edna Dean Proctor 326
Home Sweet Home William McGrath 680
Human Triumph, The Edward Wilbur Mason 687
Lincoln Centennial Henry Dumont in "A Golden
Fancy" 506
Little Boy Blue Richard Henry Leale 542
Love's Doing Henry Dumont 32
The Morning Star Edna Dean Proctor 799
My Sweetheart — "Pahoe Hou" William McGrath 840
Our Country, Verse Edna Dean Proctor 545
Poet's Prayer, The Henry Young Ostrander 204
Pluck Wins . .From the book "Heart Throbs" 126
Reminiscence Edward Wilbur Mason 358
Seein' Things at Night Mary Louise Russell 688
Sleep Sweet From the book "Heart Throbs" 428
The Stirrup Cup From the book "Heart Throbs" 30
Sunset Dreams Henry Dumont in "A Golden
Fancy" 185
INDEX
Tell Her So From the book "Heart Throbs" 478
There Are Loyal Hearts Madeline S. Bridges 667
There Is Clement Hopkins 885
Truth, The Invincible Bryant 378
Wayside Inn, The Edna Dean Proctor 653
What Would You Call It ? Joseph Bondy 712
When the Ocean Billows Roll From the book "Heart Throbs" 355
Where Are Loyal Hearts Madeline S. Bridges 570
While Dreams Abide Edward Wilbur Mason 467
Without You Henry Dumont 351
SUPPLEMENTARY INDEX
TO
THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE
Volume XXXI I, Contents for October, 1910, Number Six
COVER DESIGN: "The Harvest Trophies" Hutchins
FRONTISPIECES:
The Milk Maid's Call W. H. Upham
"The Great Coup" ., Arthur Hutchins
DEPARTMENTS
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON Joe Mitchell 'Chappie 707
Illustrated. — Washington Topics. — The German Census Commission. — Mr. and Mrs. Patel,
Parsee visitors. — Central America and Cuban Troubles. — Chief Justices of the Supreme Court. —
House hunting in Washington. — House cleaning at the Capitol. — Swiss Government railroads. —
Work and popularity of the Agricultural Department. — Valuable snake fences. — A fly-destroy-
ing campaign. — Bobbie's prayer. — Uncle Joe Cannon and the fair Chautauquan. — Compensation
for railway postal service. — Reading not allowed in Senate. — Professor Berlitz' method of teach-
ing languages. — Conservation of mineral lands. — The happy man's shirt. — An international
naval police. — Passing the general appropriation bill for $20,000,000. — The vocational bill. —
Prominent society women who do things. — Senator Wilson's cook book. — Senator Scott's
story of the Confederate father and his son. — Three new gavels for Speaker Cannon. — Indiana
politics. — John Burroughs, lover of man and nature. — Second-class mail rates, postage paid
periodicals and "Pub docs." — Reclamation of Arkansas. — Visitors of the executive. — High
cost of living. — A new patent office needed. — Senator Crawford of South Dakota. — Secre-
tary Nagel of the Department of Commerce and Labor. — Department of Corporations. —
The first appropriation for telegraphy. — Senator Bacon's military cloak.
LET'S TALK IT OVER The Publishers.
HOME DEPARTMENT Contributed by Readers
ESSAYS AND ILLUSTRATED ARTICLES
DISTRIBUTING THE IMMIGRANTS Ormsby McHarg 757
Former Assistant Secretary of Commerce
and Labor
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED H. H. Hartung, M.D 833
Illustrated
GAS PROBLEM IN NEW YORK CITY, THE W. C. Jenkins 825
Illustrated
GOVERNOR'S REPORT ON CROPS, THE 805
INTERESTING ACHIEVEMENTS IN BANKING Jenkin A. Markham 849
MUSICAL RECORDS FOR THE MONTH Frederick Hulzmann 857
NATION'S HARVEST OF 1910, THE The Editor 761
Illustrated
PILFERING TROLLEY CONDUCTOR, THE J. Bernard Lynch 838
POLITICAL SITUATION IN GREAT BRITAIN S. T. Cooke 852
PRESIDENTIAL SKIRMISH FOR 1912, THE Joe Mitchell Chappie 792
Illustrated
PUBLIC UTILITY PROGRESS William S. Jensen 859
FICTION
GREAT COUP, THE, Serial Frank E. Channon 745
Illustrated by Arthur Hutchins
GYPSY ELOPEMENT, THE Charles C. Lofquest 783
Illustrated
TO HUSBAND AND WIFE From "Heart Throbs" 782
TWO LIVES— FOUND Seth Brown 777
Illustrated
VERSE
A SONG OF THE SEA Henry Dumont 832
CLOVER, THE Ninette M. Lowater 760
GOLFER AND THE FAN, THE Bennett Chappie 836
Illustrated
GRAY SEA, THE Henry Dumont 756
IF WE HAD THE TIME Richard Burton 791
INDIAN SUMMER . . ... Edna Dean Proctor 848
a
10
'ON
. air of good
fS of Congress
iuch men may
icies, there is
: reassembling
the political
least, securely
sod.
ed about the
winds grow
nmissioner of
ces told a new
t occurred in
he tells, by
e Grass State;
,ve the proper
ntage of the
i Mr. Yerkes
:ruited levies
Confederate
tfas over, the
to sit in the
store fire and
•nflict. Night
ivene here to
battle-scenes
snesses. The
romance, and
V,
IONAL
A Z I N E
NOVEMBER, 1910
PS
HINGTON
Joe Mitche
DOVEMBER awakens anticipa-
tion all over the country of the
President's Thanksgiving Procla-
mation which, preluding the
great national feast of the year, is the
executive act which marks the opening
of the season in Washington. After the
Proclamation has been duly digested,
together with the Thanksgiving dinner,
men await with interest the Tuesday
after the first Monday in December. The
smoke of the fall primaries and elec-
tions has swept away, and the members
returning can tell just "how it happened."
Those who are defeated are compelled to
take up the reins rather listlessly
while they finish up the fag ends of their
administration, preparatory to the en-
trance of their successors, who take office
on the fourth of March.
One of the most interesting studies in
all history is found in following the trend
of the various state, congressional and
presidential elections in the country. The
radical changes of sentiment and the swing
of the pendulum from the conservative
days of prosperity to the days that cluster
about the "hard-time" periods and panics
are of intense and abiding interest to the
student of sociology as well as of history.
Despite the bitterness of factional cam-
paigns, there is always an air of good
fellowship in the opening days of Congress
which shows that however much men may
disagree as to party or policies, there is
a "how-de-do" spirit at the reassembling
of Congress that places the political
hatchet for the moment, at least, securely
in the belt, if not under the sod.
""TO a little group gathered about the
* fireplace — for the fall winds grow
cold near nightfall — ex-Commissioner of
Internal Revenue John Yerkes told a new
story of the Civil War. It occurred in
Kentucky — everything that he tells, by
the way, happens in the Blue Grass State;
it must be so in order to have the proper
environment and the advantage of the
Inimitable dialect of which Mr. Yerkes
is master.
Danville, Kentucky, recruited levies
for both the Union and Confederate
causes, and after the war was over, the
veterans of both sides used to sit in the
glow of the corner grocery store fire and
rehearse tales of the great conflict. Night
after night, they would convene here to
expatiate on the dreadful battle-scenes
of which they were eye-witnesses. The
adventures were aglow with romance, and
02
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
many a hearty laugh rang out over scenes
that were just a bit exaggerated as to the
carnage, or slightly modified in the re-
telling.
There was one man who always re-
mained silent, and had an annoying way
of seeming bored when they launched into
their best yarns. Finally, they could stand
the pressure no longer; they asked him
DR. CARLOS ANTONIO
MENDOZA
President of Panama
DR. RICARDO JIMENEZ
President of Costa Rica
why it was that he had nothing to say.
"Warn't yuh in the war?" they demanded.
"Yessir," he nodded sagely, "I was."
"What war?"
"Mexican."
"Good!" the crowd exclaimed in chorus.
"Now we'll have something new — a regular
rousing story."
John puckered his mouth, shifted his
knees and scratched his head; he tried
to recall some scene of carnage that would
thrill with the days of Chapultepec or of
General Scott storming the Molino del Rey.
Then he shifted his quid to the other
side of his jaw, and said:
"Well, I want to tell you fellers that in
that Mexican War we had some mighty
great experiences. Mighty great, yep —
them was the days when they had reel
warrin'. I warn't in many battles myself,
but I want to tell yuh I was out in a tent
on a mountain down there, and there come
along one of the goldarndest rainstorms
I ever heerd tell of! And that was a rain-
storm, too!" His eyes kindled as he burst
into the most hilarious laughter; his sides
shook and the tears rolled down his cheeks.
But the veterans were speechless with
indignation when they reflected that the
most thrilling stories they could recount
had failed to bring a smile or word from
this Mexican "coffee-cooler," who be-
came almost hysterical at the recollection
of experiencing the "gol-
darndest rainstorm he
ever heerd tell of" in a
tent down in Mexico.
"""PHE election of a suc-
^ cessor to President
Obeldia of Panama has
occasioned quite a stir
on the Isthmus. It was
thought at the outset
that acting President
M e n d o z a might be
chosen; he, however, has
been decidedly unfriend-
ly to American interests,
though he feels that the
Americans are unfriend-
ly to him because of
his color. It is reported
that he sent for Colonel
Goethals on several occasions, insistently
demanding his presence and then deliber-
ately snubbed him. The consensus of
opinion seems to be that Colonel Goethals
will manage affairs with a firm and steady
hand, without partiality.
Sometimes one is constrained to believe
that the aid afforded to newly established
Latin republics by the United States in
Central America and elsewhere is not
altogether a grateful task. The new-born
republics probably do not comprehend or
appreciate the attitude and policy of the
United States Government as regards
their affairs, and until they can be made to
understand the really sincere and friendly
interest taken by the United States in
their prosperity and welfare, there is likely
to be more or less misunderstanding.
THE LATE PRESIDENT OBELDIA OP PANAMA
Whose long and eventful life is associated with the Initiation and building1 of the Panama Canal
04
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
V/ES, there was a book agent abroad in
•*• Washington. He seemed to be a
"live wire," and kept things going by
sheer energy and persistence. Now a group
of congressmen makes rather poor material
for the wiles of an ordinary book agent,
but a few of them could remember the
summer vacation days when they too were
out trying to sell tales, masterpieces and
complete works. One of these was
Photo by American Press Association
PRINCESS RADZIWILL
This is the first photograph of Princess Radziwill, who
was Dorothy Deacon of Boston, taken since her mar-
riage recently to Prince Radziwill at St. Mary's, Lon-
don. Prince Radziwill is a scion of the Polish house of
that name and his father was formerly Court Marshal
for ceremonies in St. Petersburg. The Princess for
several years declined to have her picture taken and
likenesses of her are very rare in the United States
Senator Tom Carter of Montana. "Now,"
said he, reflectively stroking his beard,
"I want you to watch that young fellow
and see if he isn't deserving of a few
orders."
The Senators formed a group, and
stealthily watched the agent as he pro-
ceeded with his victim. It was a real ob-
ject lesson in salesmanship. You could
see, the moment he confronted his pros-
pect, that he was relying purely on his
own native ability and resources. There
was no imitation; no borrowed grandilo-
quence of language. He was himself —
and his individuality asserted itself even
in the way he pounded the table to give
force to his argument. The Senator got
nervous, but the salesman skilfully con-
tinued the argument in low, persuasive
tones and with natural suavity — he was
cooling him down. Finally, those in the
corridor saw the agent take something
from his pocket which the Senator bent
over, and in his own distinguished chirog-
raphy subscribed his name on an order
blank.
The Senators were open in their flattery
of the youthful bookman. "What rules
do you use?" asked one.
"Rules? No rules. I simply go at it
and ask for something for which I give
something that's of value to my customer.
I know he ought to have it, and it's up to
me to make him know it."
He departed with a well-filled order
book.
17ROM far-off Manila I have received
* some sentiments regarding the "ad-
vantages of an educated woman" that
I think could be read profitably by the
women of this country. How interesting it
is to hear a Filipino woman's intelligent
comment and suggestions as to the educa-
tion of her countrywomen. The writer
is Mrs. Luz Aycardo, and her work abounds
in terse epigrams. "An educated woman,"
she says, "appreciates things that are
beautiful in nature, and things that are
essential to life. She makes her surround-
ings attractive, she prepares her food
diligently, she makes her home com-
fortable." The old customs of keeping
women as a class in ignorance are doomed.
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
05
"It was a great mistake for our parents,
in ancient times, to deprive their daughters
of education, simply because they believed
that they are easily wooed and loved. A
woman thus deprived of education is
robbed of her future felicity, because, as
is to be expected, she marries one who,
like herself, is destitute of any education,
and both will stumble and fall during their
pilgrimage of life. . . .
"Education is but good living, and
good living is the immediate fruit, the
worthy reward, of good education."
'"FEE various rulings of the commissions
••• and departments at Washington are
oftentimes thought to be arbitrary and
it as the whites in the interior of China.
"A druggist there said to his clerk one
day:
" 'Didn't I see a foreign devil come out
of here as I came down the street?'
Photo by American Press Association
MRS. HETTY GREEN
The illness of Mrs. Green has caused considerable anx-
iety among her friends and business associates. She
is in her 75th year and has recently shown the first
signs of failing. Relatives have prevailed upon her to
give up active life in Wall Street and turn over her
affairs to her son, who was recently elected director of
the Seaboard Air Line. Mr. Green is now in New York
in immediate charge of his mother's business
unnecessary. No less a personage than
David Starr Jordan joked about the laws
of the International Fisheries Commis-
sion.
"The fish there have no chance," he
lamented; "they have as hard a time of
CARDINAL MERRY DEL VAL
The Papal Secretary of State, who became prominent
during the recent Roosevelt episode in Rome
" 'Yes, sir,' the clerk meekly responded.
'He wanted a permanent cure for head-
ache.'
" 'And you sold him — '
" 'Rat poison, sir.' "
TN the census returns published from
* time to time there are some remarkable
revelations. The prophecy of James J.
Hill, that if our population and productive-
ness continue at the present ratio, in
twenty years a large number of people must
go to bed supperless, is hardly consistent
with the tenor of our crop returns. The
Department of Agriculture is keeping its
Argus eyes upon every acre of land that
is not being utilized, and there are thousands
of acres all over the country that, if prop-
erly cultivated, would yield twice their
06
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
present production, not to speak of the
arid lands of the West, which respond so
luxuriantly under the magic spell of
irrigation. The reclamation of these vast
expanses of thirsty valley and plain
Photo by American Press Association}
HIRAM JOHNSON
Republican nominee for Governor of California
promises to give speedy solution of the
very serious problem of "bread enough
and to spare."
IT is proposed to build as a national
* tribute to the memory of our late ex-
President, Grover Cleveland, a simple
tower emblematic of his strength and sin-
cerity of character. His friends and ad-
mirers, without regard to party, have
organized a Cleveland Monument Asso-
ciation, of which the Hon. John F.
Dryden is president. The memorial will
be erected on a commanding site near
the Graduate School within the grounds of
Princeton University, with which in
stitution Mr. Cleveland was closely asso
ciated during the last years of his life. It
is to be 150 feet high, built of silvery-gray
stone and of great architectural dignity.
The interior is to be devoted to suitable
memorials, and also as a repository for
personal, municipal, state and national rel-
ics associated with the ex-President's long
and varied public service.
The directors of the Cleveland Monu-
ment Association include Dr. Woodrow
Wilson, president of Princeton University,
Paul Morton, George B. Cortelyou, Richard
Olney, Franklin Murphy and some half
a hundred other distinguished American
citizens from all sections of the country.
Photo by American Press Association
GROVE L. JOHNSON
Of Sacramento, California, "standpat" candidate for
nomination of Assemblyman, was defeated by the man
who was on the insurgent ticket headed by Johnson's
son, Hiram, who was nominated for Governor by the
insurgents. One Prohibitionist placed Grove L. John-
son's name on his ballot and thus he won the Prohibi-
tion nomination. Further, twenty-eight Democrats
voted for Grove L. Johnson and the same number
voted for Bliss on the Democratic ballots. This tie
makes it necessary for the Supervisors to select the
Democratic nominee by tossing a coin
THE LATE EX-PRESIDENT CLEVELAND AND HIS' SON
At his home, "Westland," near Princeton, N. J. It is near this spot that the magnificent Cleveland monument
is proposed to be erected
08
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
No one who ever met Grover Cleveland
could fail to appreciate his sturdy integrity
and patriotic fervor. I recall, vividly,
the last time I saw him at Princeton,
where, surrounded by all the comforts of
an ideal home life, he was still the same
SENATOR EUGENE HALE OF MAINE
Who retires at the end of his present term and will be
succeeded by a Democrat owing to the overturning
Maine got at the recent election
alert, unswerving patriot ready for service
at a moment's notice, after giving the
best years of his life to the interests of
his country. Every loyal American should
have an opportunity of contributing to this
memorial to commemorate the life of a
man whose career covered a most important
epoch in the history of the country.
The approximate cost of the tower will
be one hundred thousand dollars, over
three-quarters of which amount has al-
ready been subscribed. Those who desire
to assist in its erection may send con-
tributions to Senator Dryden at Newark,
New Jersey.
""THE busy days of the summer capital
•*• at Beverly are over. The executive
force has returned to Washington, al-
though loth to leave their comfortable
vacation quarters at the Pickering
Cottage, their "home by the sea." The
executive cottage is colonial in general
effect, and the great hall, adorned with
trophies of the chase, with its quaint,
spindle-balustraded stairway and real rag-
carpets on the floors, has an air of old-
time dignity and charm. The broad
verandas in the rear, facing the sea and
its picturesque surroundings, made the
cottage an ideal residence for the dozen
men of the executive force; night and day
the stiff ocean breezes from the North
Shore swept through the house. President
Taft visited his summer offices just before
leaving for the West, to see for himself that
the executive quarters were exactly suited
for the work next season.
The effort made to keep visitors away
on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays
was not successful; as at Washington
"rules were suspended" often in the case
of prominent visitors, whose official rank
largely determined how long they must
wait outside for an audience.
The President contemplated a trip to
Panama during the fall, and the first
meeting of the Cabinet held after the
summer vacation occurred at Washington
during the latter days of the Indian
summer. While Assistant-Secretary Foster
was in Europe, Judge Latta, who has been
a member of the executive force since
early in McKinley's administration, was
in charge of transferring the clerical force
from Beverly. The opening of the second
Taft season at the White House was
redolent with happy memories of the
summer days at the North Shore of Massa-
chusetts, and President Taft's suggestion
of a vacation for all every year shows his
kindly consideration and thoughtfulness.
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
CINCE the ladies of the land have so
^ generally decreed that furs must be
worn in the winter season, even the despised
muskrat is being watched and studied,
and marshlands are being cultivated for
his sustenance and home-building. Musk-
rat trapping has for some years past been
COME startling surprises have been
brought out by the report of customs
receipts during the first full year of the
new Tariff Law. The imports were larger
than for any corresponding year, and the
value of goods entering free of duty has
been larger than even under the Wilson
flftjf,
THE THREE MODERN MUSKETEERS WHO HAVE BEEN DOING SOME STUNTS AT
ATLANTIC CITY AND WILL NOW GO INTO COMIC OPERA IN TOWN
a profitable occupation among owners of
such lands in various parts of the country,
and the skins sold to furriers and dyers are
splendidly dyed, dressed and made up
to imitate costly furs. The government
experts are now studying a scientific way
of saving the muskrat. Verily, "things do
change," as Parson Piffs would say.
Bill. The comparison of the Payne Law
since its adoption with that of the Dingley,
McKinley and Wilson laws shows forty-
nine per cent of the total imports free
of duty under the Payne Bill, against forty-
four per cent under the Dingley Bill,
fifty-three per cent under the McKinley
Bill, and forty-eight per cent under the
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
Wilson Bill. There is now a disposition
to wait till the test is made and the returns
are all in before condemning the tariff
bill that has so upset the calculation of
politicians, pro and con.
* * *
VIGOROUS house-cleaning has been
going on at the White House; it was
made "spick and span" from cellar to
garret. Chimney-sweeps scoured out the
EX-CONGRESSMAN J. ADAM BEDE
of Minnesota
flues; painters were at work here and
there, paint-pot in hand; furniture was
re-upholstered, the walls whitened, and a
real old-time "fall house-cleaning" was
conducted during the President's absence.
The White House is truly said to be one
of the few domiciles of rulers that has the
real aspect of a home.
IT was positively glorious, while out
West, to come across Adam Bede,
former congressman from Minnesota. The
House of Representatives never had a
wit that equaled that of the Gopher
legislator whose name recalls George
Eliot's novel. I found him in the Union
Station at Omaha, toting two enormous
suitcases to the Northwestern train.
He stopped just a minute to talk politics,
remarking, as he set down the small trunks:
"My coat-of-arms, these. Take 'em along
for company, you know. I'm so used to
looking after a houseful of children that
these trunks, emblems of the G. O. P.
ensign, make me feel right at home."
Adam is lecturing and keeping in touch
with political matters in Minnesota, and
when that state wants a congressman that
will keep the country awake with his
nimble wit and hard horse sense, Adam
Bede will be returned to Washington —
COL. JOHN E. STILLMAN
Collector of the Port, Pensacola, Florida
accompanied by a special train, probably,
for impedimenta.
*~PHE social season at Washington will
1 soon be under way, and with it arises
the perennial discussion of fashionable
costume. Generally, women dislike to
see it discussed "from the editor's easy
chair," but, nevertheless, it is a question
MARSHAL HERMES DA FONSECA, PRESIDENT-ELECT OF BRAZIL
Marshal da Fonseca, the new President of Brazil ,was born at -San Gabreil, State of Rio Grande do Sul,
May 12, 1855. He comes from one of the representative families of Alagoas, his uncle, Marshal Deodoro,
having been the first President of the Republic. Choosing a military career, he entered the Military
School, which he left at the age of 20 years as a lieutenant. He passed successfully through all the
grades of the army until he reached the highest rank, that of Marshal. In 1904 he was placed at the
head of the Military School of Realengo. In November of that year he gave proof of his loyalty to the
Government by successfully preventing his school from joining the revolt against President Rodrigues
Alves. Soon after he became commander of the Fourth Military District of Rio de Janeiro, and when
President Penna came into power, in 1906, was made Minister of War, in which position his remarkable
reorganization of the Brazilian Army attracted the attention of Emperor William of Germany, who
invited him to be his guest to witness the maneuvers of the German Army. His inauguration will take
place on November 15, 1910
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
of economic importance. Statistics — and
"figgers can't lie" — demonstrate that it
costs the women of today much more to
dress than it did formerly; and where does
the blame belong? Do they really spend
more now? If they do, why is it?
After a recent convention ball, the men,
gathered in one corner, were discussing
the splendors of the affair just past. Dec-
orations, flowers and excellence of cuisine
came up in turn, and then the talk turned
to the costumes worn by the ladies, when,
JAMES W. GOOD, CEDAR RAPIDS, IOWA
Representative in Congress from the Fifth Con-
gressional District of Iowa
after some discussion, all decided that
the favorite costumes were the most
simple and unpretentious.
So it seems that the old argument ad-
vanced by the fair sex — "it's to please the
fastidious men"— Knight to be revised and
some other excuse made for the extravagant
cost of dress.
17 VERY time a visit is made to Cedar
*-* Rapids, Iowa, the incident is recalled
of one country boy who first saw here the
white electric lights of modern days. The
feelings and emotions of that event explain
a personal interest in the affairs of that
district. Coming down to "see the Circus"
from the country, with a return-trip ticket,
he felt as happy as any country lad with a
whole half-dollar (judiciously divided into
jingling dimes) in his pocket.
Of course, there were temptations at the
side-shows to take the extra dimes, which
would mean missingthe real "circus" in the
great main tent, but even the stentorian
voices of the "spielers" outside had to be
resolutely resisted so that the whole half-
dollar would not be exhausted until he was
safely inside the "big show."
That evening, standing at the station
waiting for the train to go home, tired and
hungry — for supper was out of the question
with empty pockets — he stood meditating
over the wonders of the day, when a revela-
tion came with the glimmering white light
from the arc lamp. To him it was an unseen
world revealed. The stars with which he
was so familiar paled into insignificance as
the carbon sputtered, and the moths flut-
tering about the dazzling brilliancy made
him think what a place Chicago and New
York must be if all this wonderment was
at Cedar Rapids.
The incident was in mind when Congress-
man James W. Good of Cedar Rapids was
found at home in the midst of his cam-
paign. Those who know him in Washing-
ton realize that a busier or more hardwork-
ing Representative never had a cedar-chest
with his name and "M. C." on it. He sim-
ply "goes at things" with the same persis-
tence that he pursued when as city attorney
he won the famous gas case at Cedar Rapids
and secured ninety-cent gas for the people.
This was the first case of the kind in the
state, and his firm belief in government
regulation of public service corporations has
been evidenced in his energetic congres-
sional career.
At the last session of Congress, Mr. Good
introduced a bill providing for the with-
drawal of coal and oil lands of the territory
of Alaska; and the scope of the bill was
limited to Alaska that it might be referred
to the Committee on the Territories, of
which Mr. Good is a member. He insists
that national resources of this kind can
only be regulated properly by having the
Government hold the fee simple title, and
Photograph by Harris-Ewing
DESSALINES
Marble bust of Jean Jaques Dessalines, the work of a Haitian sculptor living in Paris; presented by
the Haitian Government to the International Bureau of the American Republics,
and which occupies a position in the Hall of the Patriots
6
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
does not see any reason'why this rule should
not apply to all minerals and water-power
sites of the Government domain. The
measure for the establishment of a non-
partisan tariff commission, introduced by
Mr. Good, attracted the widespread and
Photo by American Press Association
PILGRIMS' MEMORIAL AT PROVINCE-
TOWN
President Taft attended the dedication of the new
monument to the Pilgrim Fathers at Provincetown,
Mass., on August 5. Theodore Roosevelt laid the
corner stone of the structure four years ago. The
monument is a tower of granite rising more than 350
feet above sea level. It stands on the.bow of Town
Hill, is over 250 feet high, and cost $100,000
favorable comment of the press, and it is
hoped that the bill will be enacted into a
law at the next session. These two
measures are the two things on which
Colonel Roosevelt and President Taft
have most heartily and publicly agreed.
Mr. Good has been especially active in
measures relative to the Indian lands, and
one that he introduced provides for the
allotment in severalty of the lands of the
Sac and Fox Indians at Tama, Iowa, the
Secretary of the Interior holding the title
of the lands as long as shall be necessary
to preserve the property inviolably for the
original owners.
Mr. Good also introduced the bill for
granting second-class privileges to the pub-
lications of trades unions, labor organiza-
tions, mutual benefit and fraternal societies,
permitting them to carry advertisements
the same as other periodicals enjoying
second-class privileges. As a member of
the House Committee on War Claims, Irri-
gation of the Arid Lands and the Terri-
tories, he was in touch with much of the
most important legislation of the last Con-
gress, in which the Committee on the Terri-
tories was very prominent. Of the fifteen
sub-committees of three members appoint-
ed to investigate and report on various
measures, Mr: Good served on all but
three, and was closely identified with the
bill amending the organic act of the Terri-
tory of Hawaii, which included some very
radical changes. He took active part in
discussing every bill from the committees.
Born on a farm within a few miles of the
city in which he lives, Mr. Good is recog-
nized as one of the "home boys" at Cedar
Rapids. He has a charming home in an
addition to the city which he was active in
developing, and the very oak and hickory
in the furnishings of that home came from
the trees surrounding the old homestead on
the farm. His library and study are redo-
lent with the sweet sentiment which the
farmer boy never loses for the old farm.
Congressman Good always seems to be
busy; that day he was preparing a speech
for laying the cornerstone of a church, but
whether at speech-making or preparing
measures to follow out his well-defined con-
victions, Mr. Good is never idle, and his
townsfolk respect his broadmindedness, his
unfailing good-nature and aggressive activi-
ties. Progressive in all his ideals, he never-
theless stands firm for fair play and justice
to the interests of all constituents.
Mr. Good will concentrate his atten-
tion on the bill which he has introduced
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
to create a tariff commission consisting
of five commissioners appointed by
the President. The commissioners are
to be in no way connected with Congress,
nor engaged in any other business, voca-
tion or employment. The duty of the com-
mission is, in general, to thoroughly in-
vestigate all the various questions relating
to the agricultural, manufacturing, com-
mercial and mining interests of the United
States so far as the same may be necessary
or helpful to Congress in the enactment
of customs tariff laws, and in aiding the
President and other officers of the govern-
ment in the administration of such laws.
The purpose of the bill is to eliminate,
as far as possible, all political or sectional
prejudices in the formulation of a tariff
measure.
""THE first American International Hu-
*• mane Conference, which was held
in Washington during the week of October
10 to 15, had President Taft as its
honorary president and King George V.,
of England, as its first honorary vice-
president. The Conference was called to
discuss the practical problems confronting
anti-cruelists everywhere, to exchange
views concerning methods and policies
now practiced, to encourage unity and
co-operation among humanitarians, and
to promote humane progress throughout
the world. It was held under the aus-
pices of the American Humane Association
in conjunction with its thirty-fourth annual
meeting. Delegates and visitors were in
attendance from the principal countries
of Europe and other foreign sections, as
well as from many of the four hundred
humane societies in this country. These
include societies for the prevention of
cruelty to animals, societies for the pre-
vention of cruelty to children, and the
so-called "compound" societies which in-
clude in their work the protection of both
children and animals.
The first three days of the Conference
were devoted exclusively to subjects
relating to children, while the sessions
held on October 13, 14 and 15 were
devoted exclusively to the considera-
tion of subjects relating to animals. Ad-
dresses were delivered and papers were
read by some of the most prominent
humane workers in this country and
abroad. Discussions were carried on
in English, French and German. The
delegates were received at the White
House by President Taft, and were also
given a reception at one of the finest
private residences in Washington.
One of the features of the Conference
was an exhibition of books of interest
to humanitarians, also pictures, manu-
scripts, model child shelters, medals,
prizes, diplomas, banners, photographs,
THE LATE HENRY BERGH
Founder of anti-cruelty work in America
literature, reports, office and statistical
blanks, and humane devices and inventions
of every description. Special exhibits
were shown relating to the barbarities
of bull-fights; work-horse parade medals
and ribbons; devices for humane killing
in slaughter-houses and dog pounds;
improved stock cars; dog kennels; inven-
tions for feeding horses in streets; humane
bits, bridles, and harnesses; model am-
bulances for the transportation of animals;
drinking fountains and fire-escape inven-
tions for animals, and many other things
pertaining to both children and animals.
While this was the first international
affair of the kind to be held in this country,
8
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
it is interesting to note that previous inter-
national conferences have been held in
Europe. The first was at Graz, in Austria,
in 1895. In 1900 a similar one was held
in Paris, and in 1903, Frankfort, Germany,
entertained the third International Hu-
mane Congress. Another convened at
Helsingborg, Sweden, in 1906. Last year
there was an international humane gather-
ing in England, which was the birthplace
of the anti-cruelty movement. All of
How he'summons all of his ability and native
eloquence to defend his measure
these meetings were devoted exclusively
to animals. The first law for the preven-
tion of cruelty was passed by the British
Parliament in 1822. The first Society
for the Prevention of Cruelty was organized
in 1824, and later became the present
Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty
to Animals. The first Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Children was
organized in New York City in 1874. The
four first Societies for the Prevention of
Cruelty to Animals, all organized between
1866 and 1868, are the American, in New
York City; the Pennsylvania, in Phila-
delphia; the Massachusetts, in Boston;
and the San Francisco, in the order of
their priority. They are, today, the
largest institutions in the country devoted
exclusively to the care of animals.
The active president of the Washington
Conference was Dr. William O. Still-
man of Albany, New York, president of
the American Humane Association. Mr.
Walter Stilson Hutchins, president of the
Washington Humane Society, was chair-
man of the local committee of arrange-
ments, which included a score of well-
known Washington names. Headquarters
of the Conference were established at
the Arlington. All the day meetings were
held in the auditorium of the new
building of the United States National
Museum. There was one platform
meeting held elsewhere and addressed by
speakers of national reputation to which
the general public were especially invited.
A complimentary dinner was tendered
the foreign delegates at the Arlington.
* * *
VTOW that the establishment of a Bureau
* Vof Health is proposed at Washington,
every known panacea for maintaining
health and for the prevention and cure of
Love letters have always played a conspicuous part
in the affairs of nations
diseases seems to have found its way to
the Capital. There is the cold bath en-
thusiast, the "don't worry" man, the
gymnast, the advocate of long walks, the
promoter of rolling on the floor to make
brawn — in fact, men with all kinds of sug-
gestions for the promotion of health or the
cure of disease have come to offer them to
the proposed department.
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
9
One man has sent in a new and less
strenuous method of preserving and pro-
tecting health — the cultivation of en-
thusiasm. Active, perennial enthusiasm,
a keen interest in what one is doing, he
insists, will do more to promote good
health than all the other ideas combined.
Something that will keep the heart's
blood of youth in action, something that
keeps ideals and anticipations alive, is the
cure suggested by this old-school philos-
opher. As the passing away of youth
as described by Wordsworth is recalled,
it lends us encouragement to feel that our
work is so varied and multiplied that it
can never be accomplished; and as long
as that feeling endures, life will have an
ever-increasing interest.
Take for instance the senator or congress-
man with a bill to pass. Witness the en-
thusiasm with which he enters the lists,
how he summons up all his ability and
native eloquence to defend his measure;
One hundred and twenty-two affect railroads
exclusively
how his chest swells with pride as one of
the older members approves his ideas;
and even when the bill has been defeated,
how he concentrates his mind in so modi-
fying the plan that it mayjneet with the
approval of his fellows.
It seems to be a pretty good plan for
everyone to have some one avocation
in which his interest can always be
awakened; it may be politics, music, art,
the pursuits of peace or even war itself —
but whatever it is, it should be all-ab-
sorbing to the enthusiast.
* * *
/^\NE unique suggestion coming to the
^ Patent Office recently is for a self-
burning letter. Though the commissioners
tried to keep the process secret, the story
soon leaked out and the suggestion was
An educated woman2appreciates~things that
are beautiful
offered as a defence to the ardent swain
who pours forth his soul in endearing and
eloquent correspondence, which later in
the hands of some unsympathetic lawyer
increases the damages in a breach of
promise suit or in the divorce court helps
to swell the alimony and excite popular
derision.
Love letters have always played a con-
spicuous part in the affairs of nations,
and a still more momentous role in the
history of hearts; but they generally
possess peculiar features that make them
"impossible" in cold type. Of course,
much depends upon the eyes that read
them, but no matter how romantic the
reader, if the eloquence is not intended
particularly for him or her, the sentiments
appear "stilted," "silly," or "disgustingly
sentimental." Hence the advantage of the
self -burning letter; so far as has been
learned, however, the "novel contrivance"
is but a sheet to which a certain brand of
very flat match is attached for a suggestion.
Photograph by Harris-Ewing
A BRONZE STATUE OF KOSCIUSZKO— PATRIOT, SOLDIER AND STATESMAN— ERECTED
IN LAFAYETTE PARK, WASHINGTON, D. C.
This statue, which has been presented to the United States by the Polish-American Society and the Polish
people of America, was unveiled the first week of May, 1910. The statue and subsidiary figures, also of
bronze, are supported on a granite pedestal for which an appropriation was granted by the United States
Congress. It is the work of the well-known Chicago sculptor, Antoni Popiel, and stands in the northeast
corner of the park, opposite the Arlington Hotel. Tadeusz Kosciuszko was born at Siechnowice in Lithu-
ania in 1746. Coming to America in 1776, he served with distinction under Washington in the Revo-
lutionary War. He planned the defenses at Bemis Heights, near Saratoga, which General Burgoyne
endeavored to take, and also planned the works at West Point. He was made engineer in chief of the
army and in 1783 was promoted to the rank of brigadier-general by Congress in recognition of his services.
He returned to Poland in 1786, taking part in the uprising against Russia. Later he settled in France and
then in Switzerland, where he died in 1817, his remains being removed to Cracow, Poland.
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
11
IF a vote were polled to designate the
* most popular Congressman at Washing-
ton during the last session, the name of
John Kinley Tener of Pennsylvania would
instantly command a strong lead. A big,
genial, whole-souled man — that partially
expresses it — and explains why he has been
chosen Exalted Ruler of the Protective
Order of Elks, and is so well beloved and
honored by the home-folks.
Still he's just the same John Tener as
when back in the 90's he held the box
as the brilliant young pitcher of the famous
Spaulding baseball nine that journeyed
around the world introducing star plays
and players in Uncle Sam's great national
game. Mr. Tener plays ball as he plays
politics and everything else; in an earnest,
energetic manner that commands results.
A branch of his family settled in Penn-
sylvania prior to the Revolution, but
Congressman Tener came direct from
County Tyrone, Ireland, when a young
lad, after the death of his father. With
his ten brothers and sisters the family
located in Pittsburg . Young Tener worked
nights and mornings and finished his pub-
lic and high school course with honors.
His first employment was in a clerical
capacity, where he clerked as hard as he
played ball. His fondness for athletics
made him a leader in boyhood sports, and
later he became nationally popular as a
baseball player, commanding a salary that
made his clerical wages look small.
Upon his return from a trip around the
world he settled down to a business career
with the same determination with which
he had fitted himself for the pitcher's box;
and was made cashier of the First National
Bank of Charleroi, Pennsylvania, an
institution of which he is today president.
The town — one of those little munici-
palities that lie outside the large centers
of population and have had much to do
with the great strides in urban develop-
ment— has enjoyed a substantial, steady
growth, and there have been few public
enterprises concerning its interests in
which Mr. Tener has not taken an active
part. Essentially a self-made man, his
success came in good measure from un-
derstanding just how and when to throw
the ball and strike hard.
Although a stanch Republican, Mr.
Tener never accepted any office until in
1907 he became a candidate for Congress.
It was a lively fight, but his popularity at
home was so great that he carried his
town by a vote of 866 to 87. Soon after
entering Congress, he was given some very
important committee appointments, and
made a record of which any veteran might
well be proud.
When he passed along the corridors of
the Capitol in his jolly, good-natured way,
he had but to suggest what ought to be done
to some of his colleagues — and it was done.
CONGRESSMAN J. K. TENER
Republican nominee for governor of Pennsylvania
One of Mr. Tener's impressive virtues
is plain common sense, and an unswerving
integrity that inspires confidence.
Mr. Tener has been an active business
man for over twenty years, yet he is still
of the "home boy" type; it was at home
I found him at Salisbury Beach, Massa-
chusetts, during the summer days, visit-
ing the old home of Mrs. Tener at Haver-
hill nearby, the scenes of the courtship
days two decades ago. The Tener home
has long been the center of social activities
in Charleroi, since Mr. Tener first brought
his bride to the state which now honors
him with a nomination for Governor.
12
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
SENATOR-ELECT NAPOLEON BONAPARTE BROWARD
A former Governor of the state of Florida and "Father of the Everglades"
The fact that he carried his county
with a majority of five thousand and was
able to increase this score to ten thousand
in the presidential election, indicates the
sort of a campaign John Tener conducts.
Known everywhere throughout the state,
it seemed in good old Pittsburg, where he
made his start in life, that everyone
knew him — street car men, hack drivers,
storekeepers and even in the little tobacco-
nist's shop at the end of town. He will
be one of the few governors chosen from
the western part of the state, and it is
predicted will have an old-fashioned
Republican majority, although the ag-
gressive "Keystone" party is making an
active campaign which its projectors hope
will draw some of the strength of the Re-
publican ticket. Regardless of party affili-
ations, Mr. Tener's colleagues in Congress
will miss his genial and wholesome per-
sonality, and although congratulating him
on his step forward in his political career,
they all hope to see him back to help push
things along. His presence in the Com-
mittee Rooms, hi the corridors or in the
cloak rooms gave to congressional routine
that flavor of human good-fellowship so
often lacking in the legislators of more
serious temperament. Pennsylvania will
have a popular and progressive governor
in John Kinley Tener.
The beloved of all America, who passed away October 17th. She will be most deeply mourned.
C
O
MEN
QJJ A Nj^_ E LD
a'H -Chappie
isn't much wonderment
in a first close view of the
aeroplane, of whatever nature
it may be — the thousands of
pictures that have been printed in peri-
odicals and newspapers are almost as
lifelike as the originals themselves. But
when the aeroplane is wheeled from its
hangar to the starting line — when the
propeller is started with its whirr and
buzz — the new sensation
begins. Great clouds of dust
are kicked up in the rear
like the foam and commo-
tion that spout from a great
geyser. The aviator sits
tensely in his seat, while
his^ mechanicians, holding to
the rear of the machine,
act as cables to keep the
aeroplane from taking a
premature flight. The air
beating back at them from
the propeller has the force of a minia-
ture tornado, whipping their clothes and
hair until it seems as though they must
surely be stripped naked and made bald-
headed.
Finally the aviator is satisfied with the
rhythmic droning of the cylinders; his
voice cannot possibly be heard, so he raises
and lowers his hand as the signal to start.
The aeroplane, loosed from its leash,
darts off along the ground for a hun-
dred feet or so; the aviator pulls a
lever for elevation and the monster bird
takes to the air in a gradual ascent that
causes the new onlooker to hold his breath
in wonderment. It is the most impressive
moment in the first witnessing of human
flying. After the human bird has circled
the course before one's very eyes and
coming back over a hundred feet in the
air goes forth again over the land and
over the water, the miracle is established.
Behold, the dream has come true! And
before this cloud of witnesses!
Probably a million people became eye-
witnesses of this modern miracle during
the ten days of flying at Squantum Field,
near Boston, in September. They saw
the winged mechanism,
under human control, circle
and dash about through
the air; attain such an alti-
tude as to become all but
invisible, and glide to earth
again with outstretched
pinions, as lightly as their
feathered inspiration. They
saw them soar aloft in a
graceful flight of the course,
then suddenly dart off over
the sea until they had van-
ished for nearly a half hour, then come
back within the reach of vision again
after having turned the goal of flight,
Boston Light — but without coming to
earth for renewal of strength, dash away
again, to repeat the same flight.
After this spectacular flight, which was
accomplished by Grahame-White, the Eng-
lish aviator, he became the popular hero
of the Squantum meet, and his Bleriot
racing monoplane, in which he made the
flight, the favorite of all the craft in the
air. No one but rejoiced in his gaining the
prize he was awarded, the ten thousand dol-
lars offered by the Boston Globe. Of course,
there was a certain disappointment that
some American aviator did not secure
the prize; but such is the uncertainty in
THE BIRD MEN AT SQUANTUM FIELD
15
all matters of competition. Superiority
in the qualification demanded was dem-
BROOKINS "JOCKEYING" IN A WRIGHT
BIPLANE
His altitude flights were a feature of the meet
onstrated — that of speed. Perhaps a half
dozen other aviators at the Squantum
field could have made the same flight,
but it would have taken them a much
longer time, so there was no object in
their attempting it.
In the international meet at Rheims
last year, Glenn Curtiss, the American,
practically unknown at that time, carried
off first honors. It was Bleriot, a French-
man, who won the prize offered by a
London newspaper for a flight over the
English Channel; a Frenchman, too, who
won the prize offered for the over-country
trip from London to Manchester, while
his English rival slept. Now it is an Eng-
lishman who comes over from his native
heath to become the popular hero of the
most important aeronautical event ever
held in America, capturing the major
portion of the prizes and placing a speed-
mark for distance flying that will require
marked advancement in the speed-quality
features of American-made aeroplanes
to better. England is coming into her
own, although her representative at this
American event was really a product of
French training, having been graduated
from the Bleriot school about a year ago,
and flying in a French craft, the Bleriot
racing monoplane. Less resistance to
the air from his monoplane and a more
highly developed motor (Gnome) to fur-
nish it power, are given as the reasons for
Grahame-White's speed victory; but may
there not also be : some fraction of ad-
vantage offered in the fact that the po-
sition of the propeller is in front; where it
eats its terrific way into the atmosphere
without anything before to possibly de-
flect the air or diminish its attack? The
biplane is pushed along by its propeller
or propellers; the monoplane is pulled
along — it's like having the locomotive
behind a train of cars in the one instance,
or in front, in the other.
In the development of air craft as dis-
played at Squantum Field, there has been
very little deviation from the original
flyer with which the Wright brothers
first astonished the world. The mono-
plane, the bipiane and the triplane are
all variations of the same principle — the
16
THE BIRD MEN AT SQUANTUM FIELD
Courtesy Boston Post
THE BLERIOT MONOPLANE
In which Grahame- White flew to the Boston Light
machines look much the same when on the
ground, but are easily distinguished — the
monoplane
with one spread
of wings, the
biplane with
two spread of
wings and the
triplane with
three spread of
wings. The
latter made no
flights of any
consequence
whatever, its
a via tor, Mr.
Roe, simply
taking it off
the ground oc-
casionally i n
Courtesy Boston Post
THE ROE TRIPLANE
Which was partly wrecked at the Squantum Meet
little jumps of
fifteen or twenty feet into the air, looking
matter of speed, for the history
of speed in the air, even at
this early period of develop-
ment, confirms the fact that
the more resistance offered the
less speed. There is more re-
sistance to the biplane than
the monoplane, and more to
the triplane than the biplane.
The monoplane in its flights
looks like a great mosquito
hawk buzzing along in the
full possession of all five
senses, and constantly alert
in each. The single spread of
wings, the elongated body and
the rudder, for all the world
like a tail, make it the most
natural-looking and lifelike of air craft.
The biplane looks more mechanical.
What of the
respective
merits of the
different a i r
craft exhibited
at Squantum
Field? The
final awards
tell the story
concisely. In
speed, the
monoplane is
superior, with
the Glenn
Curtiss biplane
a good second.
In duration,
altitude and
distance, a 1 1
qualities very closely related, the Wright
for all the world like a turkey
accentuating his haste by the
flapping of his wings. Accord-
ing to reports the triplane has
made successful flights in Eng-
land, but its English aviator
on American soil seemed able
to get no higher than the
bounce of an ordinary rubber
ball. But you never can tell.
Perhaps the triplane will develop
reliability and durability, such
as will give it a lasting place in
air craft — it certainly does not
seem that it can ever attain
much accomplishment in the
gobbler biplane took first honors together with
THE FARMAN BIPLANE
Grahame-White used this in his bomb-throwing, and for carrying
passengers at $100 a minute
THE BIRD MEN AT SQUANTUM FIELD
17
accuracy in alighting. The
latter was a world's record,
for Brookins, in his Wright
biplane, descended from one
of his awe-inspiring altitude
nights in a series of graceful
spirals and alighted within five
and a half feet of the point
where his biplane left the ground
at the beginning of the flight.
The matter of accuracy in
alighting is very important.
The Wrights seem to be content to de-
velop their biplane along the lines of easy
control, accuracy, duration and lifting
power. Surely these qualities are essential.
Glenn Curtiss is endeavoring to add speed
to these qualities, but the French are
clearly in the
lead in this
requisite at
the present
time.
In tracing
the develop-
ment of fly-
ing, it all
looks very
simple, now
that it has
been accom-
plished. Lil-
lienthal glid-
ing was the
art first re-
moved from
actual flying, and it was a tragic close of
his life of devotion to an idea, when in
1895 he was killed after two thousand suc-
cessful trips. But back of Lillienthal's
gliding, the same idea that has developed
the aeroplane is found in kite-flying.
It is pressure against the air that makes
THE FARMAN BIPLANE USED
CLIFFORD B. HARMON
It landed too suddenly the first day of the meet and was put out of
commission
RALPH JOHNSTONE REACHING FOR ALTITUDE AGAIN
AFTER ONE OF HIS HAIR-RAISING "DIPS"
The Wright Biplane
Courtesy Boston Pest
THE
CURTISS BIPLANE
the kite soar; it is pressure against the air
that makes the aeroplane soar — pressure
promoted by the rapidly revolving pro-
peller. Ascent, descent, balance and di-
rection are the problems which confront
the aviator when he takes his seat in the
______ .^^^^^.^^^^ air craft. In
every move-
ment while
he is in the
air there
must be con-
stant alert-
ness,toadjust
his machine
for varying
air currents,
or "holes in
the atmos-
phere." If the
engine fails
to work there
is left the
probability of
reaching
earth again
safely by gliding downward — a short
descent gives momentum to glide along for
more distance to gain a desired point. Most
of the accidents have happened as the
result of) some part of the aeroplane giving
away — that is why the aeroplanes are
guarded so closely in their respective
hangars, to keep away meddle-
some sightseers, who are liable
to tamper or /'monkey" with
the machines. When Mr. Har-
mon's biplane crashed to the
marshland, curious memento-
hunters made way with a great
many of the parts, the loss of
which prevented him from get-
ting it ready for the air again
Which failed in the speed contest against the Bleriot Monoplane during the meet.
THE BIRD MEN AT SQUANTUM FIELD
19
It is a gratifying feature of
the meet at Squantum Field
that there were no accidents
• — no loss of life to add to the
toll death has claimed from the
ranks of "the navigators of the
air. A. V. Roe, the English-
man who tried persistently to
get his biplane off the ground,
damaged his machine several
times, but did himself no harm.
Harmon, the intrepid amateur,
came to earth dangerously near
the water's edge, and wrecked
his Farman biplane, but sus-
tained no injury whatever. This record
of no injury is most remarkable when the
fact is taken into consideration that there
have been eleven aviators killed in the past
two years, and others terribly mangled.
Lieutenant Selfridge fell with Orville
Wright at Fort
Meyer, near Htt9B£HH9H
Worthington,
i n September,
1908, and died
almost instant-
ly. His death
was the first
resulting from
a n aeroplane
fall, and since
that fatal acci-
THE HERRING-BURGESS BIPLANE
New England's first product in aeroplane manufacturing
Leon Delagrange, killed at Bordeaux.
Hubert LeBlon, killed at San Sebastian,
Spain.
C. Michelin, killed at Lyons.
J. Robl, killed at Stettin, Germany.
Charles Wachter, killed at Rheims.
__ Captain
Charles S.
Rolls, killed at
Bournemouth.
The last six
named all met
their death this
year.
The-old
farmhouse
standing at
Squantum was
early in the
dent, the list of
fatalities has With which he flew from Squantum Field to the City of Boston proper p r 6 p a T ationS
CROMWELL DIXON'S DIRIGIBLE BALLOON
grown rapidly.
Eugene Lefebvre, killed in September,
1909.
Enea Rossi, killed near Rome, in Sep-
tember, 1909.
Captain Louis F. Ferber, killed at
Boulogne, 1909.
Antonio Fernandez, killed at Nice, 1909.
Courtesy Boston Post
FRONT VIEW OF THE BLERIOT MONOPLANE
converted into
an emergency hospital by the Har-
vard Aeronautical Society — an ominous
acknowledgment of the accidents inci-
dent to an extensive aviation meet. But
not once was anyone connected with the
flying craft sent to the hospital. One or
two were treated there who were out-of-
the-field spectators crowded
from their positions by a frac-
tious horse.
A singular illustration of the
"passing of the horse" was the
fact that nothing but automo-
biles were taken on the grounds
at Squantum Field. Over a
thousand automobiles filled with
visitors were lined up at ad-
vantageous positions along the
"home base" of the aviation
20
THE BIRD MEN AT SQUANTUM FIELD
field nearly every day, but a horse and car-
riage was nowhere to be seen. Surely
Pegasus looked on with spectral disap-
proval.
* * *
At the Squantum Field meet a rate for
airline passenger transportation was es-
tablished. One hundred dollars a minute!
It is quite unnecessary to state that this
rate was fixed arbitrarily without consulta-
tion with the National Traffic Commission.
But at that there were several individuals
who paid the price and took passage.
This is about five dollars for every breath
taken while aloft. A rate established on
this latter basis might be economical but
rather trying to the venturesome individual
"who should go aloft with Ralph Johnstone,
the trick aviator of the Wright biplane, for
while his breathing might be regular and
deep on the steady, even ascent, on the
descent, if the aviator should essay his
tremendous dip and curves, it is a question
whether he would be able to breathe at
all. Mayor Fitzgerald of Boston, who
went into the air with Grahame- White in
his Farman biplane, was greatly elated
over the trip. In fact, all those who
ventured aloft as passengers with the
aviators describe the sensation as highly
exhilarating. It is not like any other mode
of transportation. On the railroad we
rush along, limited by the steel track to
forward or backward progress; in the
automobile we go forward or backward or
either sidewise; in the air-craft we go for-
ward, either sidewise, and upward or
downward; perhaps it is this added in-
finite variety of direction of progress that
gives the additional exhilaration.
That the professional aviator is re-
ceiving substantial reward for his efforts
in exploiting the art of flying is attested by
the prize money awarded by the Harvard
Aeronautical Society and the Boston
Globe. In addition to the ten thousand
dollars that Grahame-White received from
the Globe for his flight to Boston Light
and return, he received five thousand
dollars for superiority in bomb-throwing;
three thousand dollars for first place in speed ;
two thousand dollars for second place in
altitude; a thousand dollars for second
place in duration; a thousand dollars for
' second place in distance ; a hundred dol-
lars for first place in getaway. "Getaway"
means that he got his machine off the
ground and into the air in the shortest
distance — a matter of twenty-six feet,
eleven inches. In accuracy, that is,
alighting, his record at Squantum was
thirty-three feet, four inches. He stopped
his machine within that distance of the
point at which he left for his flight.
Ralph Johnstone, in a Wright biplane,
got two thousand dollars in each instance
for first in duration and distance; five
hundred dollars for first in accuracy, and
five hundred for second in the slow lap-
that is, taking the longest time to go
around the course and still keeping in the
air. Mr. Johnstone's awards for the meet
amounted to a total of five thousand dollars.
Walter Brookins, also in a Wright
biplane, was awarded three thousand
dollars for first in altitude; a thousand
dollars for the first in slow lap and two
hundred and fifty dollars for second in
accuracy — a total of four thousand, two
hundred and fifty dollars.
Glenn Curtiss, who took first honors
at the international meeting only a year
before, secured a second for speed, a
prize of only two thousand dollars.
Charles F. Willard, in a Burgess Com-
pany biplane, secured fifty dollars for
second in getaway.
In addition to the prizes, these pro-
fessional aviators all received substantial
remuneration for entering their aeroplanes
in the meet.
Clifford B. Harmon, the New York
millionaire real estate dealer, secured all
the honors offered to the amateur avi-
ators. He broke his own air craft, a
Farman biplane, on the first day of the
Squantum meet, but Grahame-White, with
whom he struck up a warm friendship
during the meet, very generously loaned
him his own Farman biplane with which to
participate in the events.
The Farman biplane proved itself a
very reliable air craft, somewhat speedier
than the Wright biplane, although it has
only one propeller. It was probably the
higher power of the motor that made it so.
An aeroplane cannot be "all things to
all men" in these competitive meets —
THE BIRD MEN AT SQUANTUM FIELD
21
for speed cuts out the qualities necessary
in the slow lap contest, and in a measure
lessens chances in duration and accuracy.
One of the long-accepted theories of
science had to be overthrown before there
practical tests that a brass plate weighing
one pound lost fifteen ounces of that
weight when whirled through the air at
the rate of seventy miles an hour — it
weighed only one ounce — that's new aero-
dynamics, and Newton was immediately
ruled out as an authority in this par-
ticular line. According to New-
ton's law Grahame-White would
could be a practical start
made in mechanical fly-
ing. It was Professor S.
P. Langley who gave this
theory its quietus and es-
tablished the new law in *
aerodynamics. Newton,
the gravity discoverer, had figured out a
certain graduated scale of resistance affect-
ed by the air against objects moving
through it. Nobody thought to question
it until a French scholar applied New-
ton's law in the case of the flight of a
bird. He figured it out that to attain the
speed at which a swallow flies, it would be
necessary for that little feathered aviator
to possess the strength of a Harvard full-
back. Professor Langley demonstrated by
have been compelled to develop the
power of the Twentieth Century Limited
to accomplish that trip to Boston Light.
Three hundred years of precedence were
swept away when Professor Langley
established the new law of aerodynamics.
The aviation meet at Squantum Field
22
THE BIRD MEN AT SQUANTUM FIELD
was in many ways the most successful held
in America. The fact that it was held
under the authority of the Harvard
Aeronautical Society stamped the meet
with enough of the conservative, scientific
'spirit to give it special historical sig-
nificance. That it is the first of a series
that will be held annually lists Squantum
Field as aviation grounds that will figure
conspicuously in the future development,
of the art of flying.
Squantum Field is unique in that it
furnishes a course for aviators of one and
three-fourth miles that is nearly equally
divided over the water and land. On
every flight around the course the aviator
is drilled in meeting the changes in air
currents over the land and then over the
water, and from the course itself there
are longer special flights that can be
planned, possessing every feature of land,
water, plain or mountainous obstacles
for the air navigators to overcome. To
the southwest, stretching along the hazy
.horizon, lie the Blue Hills of Milton, the
highest of which is capped by the United
States Observatory, where a great number
of the government's experiments have
been made in the upper air by means of
large kites. Off to the east stretches the
sea, dotted with islands that would prove
emergency stations for the landing of
the manbirds should aught go wrong
with them in a seaward flight. Directly
north lies Dorchester Heights, from which
glistens the tower erected to commemorate
the successful strategy of George Wash-
ington, who struggled across the marshes
to that position one night and planted a
battery that frowned down so ominously
upon the British in Boston the next morn-
ing, that they forthwith determined to
evacuate. To the westward, sweeping
the whole horizon from north to south, lies
Boston and suburbs, with rivers to traverse,
valleys to explore, or the skyscrapers them-
selves to encircle. No doubt at succeeding
meets at Squantum Field, many interest-
ing distance flights will be planned.
The Harvard Aeronautical Society, which
comes into international prominence as a
result of the Squantum Field meet, was
organized in November last year, with
the objects in view such as the name
suggests. It is composed of present and
past members of Harvard University.
President Lowell of Harvard was on the
advisory committee of the Squantum
Field meet, and grouped with him were a
number of prominent citizens of Massa-
chusetts. Adams D. Claflin, as manager
of the meet, met the demands of the po-
sition so successfully that there was a
profit of $5,000 instead of the usual de-
ficit which has resulted in other meets.
How much sooner would have come the
successful mechanical flight of man had
there been back of the matter of experi-
mentation in its early stage, the encour-
agement of such an institution as the
Harvard Aeronautical Society! We per-
haps would not have had to look upon the
pathetic figure of Professor Langley, who
closed his eyes on this world so soon after
his really epochal trials for manflight in
the interests of our government were de-
clared a failure in 1903. But it was snap
judgment, made effective by the hostile
attitude of the press, and supine ac-
quiescence of Congress. Think of lim-
iting an inventor to two or three trials to
get his manbird in the air! A launching
into the air was not finally successful
until hundreds of attempts from all sorts
of angles were made — but poor Langley
was only a memory then — his years of
patience and intelligent labor the real
stepping-stones to success for those who
came after him. Mechanical flight he
developed and demonstrated successfully
as early as 1896, but his attempt to crown
his mechanical flight with human control
while in the air was absolutely forestalled
in 1903 by an unsympathetic govern-
ment.
Harvard is first in the field with an
aeronautical society, with expert business
energy and judgment guiding. The best
there is in the hopes of the air-craft in-
ventors will surely be brought forth under
such a practical and sympathetic en-
couragement.
of
A Gridiron Battle in Which
the Hero Starred Off-Field
By ANTONY DEE
Author of " Disinherited," " Extraneous Matter,
"The Garden at Dempster," etc.
IT was the last day before the
great conflict. Tomorrow —
Thanksgiving Day — his class —
his own class — would fight its
last battle on the gridiron, and he — he
was the Outcast!
Out on the campus they were discussing
the prospects of the mighty struggle to
come. How often had he done the same!
But now — now he was avoided and des-
pised. A group stopped beneath the
dormitory window. He crossed the room
and looked down through the blinds.
What was that Coach Dean was saying?
Donnelly's ankle broken — Donnelly, their
star punter, the hope of Ashdown ! Whose
name was that — his,
the Outcast's? He
strained to listen.
"Donnelly's ankle
broken, Simmons' knee
in boards, Desmond
unable to come back,"
Dean was saying,
"then we'll have to
look to Andrews. What
d' you say, Barnard?"
The Outcast clutched at the sill. Mighty
decent of Dean, that! Jolly, good-natured
Dean, always willing to give a fellow the
benefit of the doubt ! Before the Cullom-
ville game, -he and Dean had many good
times together. And then, Dean was her
brother. But now — now he was the Outcast.
"Play with Andrews!" Barnard raged.
"Have a traitor on my team! Where's
your honor, Dean?"
Donnelly, their star
punter
The Outcast staggered back into his
room. A traitor — a traitor? Barnard had
called him that! And he had to crawl
into a hole like a cowering convict — like
a thief! No, worse still — hadn't Barnard
said it? Yet a month, a year back — why,
ever since he had entered Ashdown the
whole varsity would rise en masse at even
a whisper of criticism against him. For
four years he had served Ashdown, faith-
fully, on the gridiron, in the catcher's
mask, at the oar, on the ice. Not as sen-
sational a player as Barnard, nor as bril-
liant as Donnelly, he had been an all-
round athlete, and had had his part in
the winning of many a victory for the gold
and gray. And after these four years of
service, he had made a misplay — or, rather,
fie had let opportunity pass him by, and
now — now he was the Outcast.
The fumble was stupid; he couldn't
account for it himself. "Just lost his
presence of mind," Doc Gerrish had said;
but the crowd was infuriated; and then,
there were circumstances. Everyone knew
he was short of money, and Barnard's
whisper that he had seen him in con-
ference with the Cullomville captain the
night before was taken without even a
question.
He had thought of quitting — in fact,
Dean had said it might not be safe to stay
out the term. "Only a coward quits," he
thought. He hoped it wouldn't be safe;
it might give him a chance to square him-
self with the fellows. But, by ignoring
his very existence, nay, barring him even
(23)
24
HIS PRESENCE OF MIND
from recognition, they had ostracized him,
had made him an Outcast.
* * *
Still talking on the campus? Above the
angry basses and shrill tenors he could
distinguish a clear treble — her voice. Was
she there? He hadn't seen her since that
day. Did she believe him guilty? Oh,
she couldn't; she mustn't. At least she
trusted in him. He strode to the window.
She was speaking; the stiff November
breeze wafted each word upward, distinct
and resonant. "Lost his presence of mind!
Bah, Horace! His presence of mind!"
The little scornful laugh, the underscore,
They were cheering Ashdown — Barnard
the contempt, stunned him a moment;
blindly then he groped his way down the
hall.
* * *
A great day — just bully football
weather! The strong late autumn sun
pouring in at his window awakened him.
Why, it was late — the crowd must already
be starting for the field. He could hear
Barnard instructing, warning, inspiring
his squad:
"We must win! We will win! Make
every move count. Play as you never
played before. I've got to. We've all got
to. Play to winl"
The Outcast drew near the drawn blinds.
Barnard was standing by the roadside
with her! She with Barnard! "His
presence of mind" — her scorn of yesterday
came back with a sickening forcefulness.
Why hadn't he. thought of Barnard be-
fore— of Barnard, his enemy, his accuser,
his rival? He wondered, as the two
walked down the road together, how she
could like Barnard — rough, unrefined Bar-
nard, whose habitual profanity, gross
mannerisms and total disregard of those
little things that meant so much to her,
would disbar him from any drawing-room.
And she could overlook his deficiencies!
Nay, for Barnard, had she not forsaken
him, and made him still more bitterly
Outcast?
* * *
Ten o'clock! The starter's whistle was
even now shrilling the formal beginning
of the last football game that his class
would ever play under the gold and gray.
A fierce battle, it would be, with Ashdown
playing against odds.
They were cheering Ashdown — Barnard.
A good man on the field, Barnard — none
better; and truly Ashdown needed him
today as never before. The Laramie band
saluted. How would Laramie show up?
Rather an uncertain crowd, with a power-
ful end, and noted for tricky plays. What
had Barnard done about a quarterback?
Would Desmond try it? Was there any
chance for Ashdown to win the cup?
His blood tingled in his veins. He
wanted to see the conflict! How could he
remain supine half a mile from the struggle
of his class — his own class? An Outcast,
yes, but could he not slip in unnoticed
among the crowds? Nervously he pulled
a cap down over his eyes, muffled his coat-
collar about his throat and hurried toward
the grounds.
"Seat in the middle?" he asked the
ticket-seller, whose eyes were on the
battlefield.
"Sorry, mister, but there ain't no seats,"
came the mechanical apology.
"Nothing on either side?"
The ticket-man glanced toward him;
his lip curled in recognition.
"Why don't yuh sit with the players?"
he sneered.
The Outcast shrank back. Had anyone
else seen him? He gave a hurried glance
about. All eyes were centered on the
field — on the field toward which he dared
not look. The whistle was sounding the
end of the first half; he feverishly awaited
HIS PRESENCE OF MIND
25
the hoisting of the score-bearer's signal.
The game stood 6 — 6.
Cheers were ringing for Barnard. As
the Outcast slunk through the entrance
gates, a group passing out for intermission
was gathered in eonsternation. "The
whole life of the team" — "Never played so
room. Their voices were subdued; even
Dean seemed to have lost his usual optim-
ism.
So Barnard was Ashdown's only hope;
and Laramie, tricky, alert Laramie, was
a formidable foe. Was it fair that Barnard
should by premeditated arrangement thus
Crouched in position, waiting for the quarter to pass the ball
well before"--'"Laramie's crippled 'em
all but him" — "He's carrying his whole
eleven" — he overheard broken sentences.
Barnard, Barnard everywhere— what a
lion was Barnard!
Turning about, the Outcast resolutely
made his way southward, skirting the
field, to the "six foot wall" below the
dressing room which the village urchins
had long claimed as their own. He used
to wonder, sometimes, why they should
choose so remote a spot — full half a mile
from the lines — but perhaps they pre-
ferred proximity to the players as they
came and went from quarters, to a study
of touchdowns.
He crouched behind the fence as the
Ashdown squad issued from the dressing-
risk the honor of Ashdown for personal
vainglory? Though, on reflection, Barnard
had never yet disappointed them; never
"lost his presence of mind"; his reserve
force was almost uncanny.
The players lined up. The second half
was beginning. How far away seemed
the field of battle— but through all the
shifting scenes Barnard, always Barnard,
was in sight — keen, watchful, active.
Now he was crouched in position, wait-
ing for the quarter to pass the ball. So
Desmond had tried it, after all; rather
spent and uncertain his pose indicated,
as he hesitatingly waited his chance to
pass to Barnard.
How noisy were these urchins on the
fence. Their ceaseless chatter grew louder
>o*.v*» » ,.N .
I • ' • 0^-*-
-^.~ ,.
..vr-^
^
He watched the scrimmage within the lines
26
HIS PRESENCE OF MIND
— a warm debate was going
on. "If yuh hadn't 'a' butted
in, he'd 'a' took me," sput-
tered one lad, settling himself
on the rail.
"Who's the guy what's
got the other pail?" queried
another.
"Gee, a dollar!" continued
the covetous one. "Them two
gettin' a dollar fer tendin' the
pail an* sponge! They never
paid nothin' before!"
"Huh! that ain't fer carryin' the pail,
like Coach Dean had me do onct," an-
nounced an older lad sagely. "Git wise!
Who ever seen that timer before, anyway?
Where's the regular timer? That ain't
him. An' didn't yuh hear him tell Jim
he wa'n't to move till he got a sign from
him, and then he was to put the sponge
in Barnard's face? Barnard's, see?"
"Yes, an' he don't git the dollar unless
he does it jest — "
,"Gee, Stubby, Barnard's got the ball!
forcing him
the lines
Look!" The conversation
stopped abruptly. All eyes
were turned toward the field.
The Outcast's mind was
going through a series of emo-
tions as he watched the scrim-
mage within the lines. Barnard
still held the ball; amid the
fierce onslaught of Laramie
defenders, he was pushing his
way through — was making on,
on toward the goal.
"He's go'n' to make it,
Stub!" shrieked one of the excited youngT
sters, standing on the rail. "Look at him!
He's got it!"
"He ain't a-goin' to make that goal if
that timer knows it," replied the sage one,
"you jest wait an' see. There's somethin'
crooked about this ^ gamer, you betcher
life!"
The Outcast sat tense. The timer —
the timer, they had said. Who was he,
anyway? Was it possible?
Ah, Ashdown was coming to Barnard's
Barnard was struggling ; was he being overpowered ?
HIS PRESENCE OF MIND
27
rescue at last. They were forcing him
through the lines. He was speeding on.
Laramie's end alone followed in hot pur-
suit. A powerful tackle, this wiry end
of Laramie's. They used to say his skill
in jiu-jitsu had won many a game for his
eleven. Barnard was struggling — was he
being overpowered? Was he down?
Time! Who called for time?
* * *
He didn't quite know, when it was all
over and Barnard had made the touch-
down and come back and kicked goal,
why the mob broke into quarters and bore
him, the Outcast, aloft on their shoulders,
screaming his name in unison with the
deafening cheer for Ashdown.
Perhaps Barnard had really been faint
at the timekeeper's signal and when he
had rushed on the field and wrested sponges
and pails from the water-boys, Barnard
had thought it was revenge, enmity. The
fence urchins might not have been right — •
although the sponges —
They were carrying him toward the
center of the field. Perhaps they would
lynch him — these wild, unruly swarms—
before he had a chance to explain. They
were lowering him. President Vernon
was awaiting them; his arm was on Bar-
nard's shoulder. Dean was nearby, with
her. Crowds were still in the bleachers.
All seemed to be watching him. Why was
he the cynosure of all eyes? Why these
shouts of "Andrews" with " Ashdown"?
He had but a hazy recollection of the
bewildering events that followed — the
speech in which Barnard admitted that
his accusation about the Cullomville
bribery was unfounded; the cordial praise
of President Vernon for his seizure of the
treacherous sponges, for Dean had elicited
a full confession from one of the boys;
Dean's grip as he said, "You saved us
the game, old man," and the cheers that
followed; Doc Gerrish's arrival on the
scene and his grave announcement that
one dash of the sponges, wet with that
solution, would have crippled Barnard
temporarily, at least.
But while his memory of these matters
was still vague and indistinct, he could
tell you, verbatim, of a conversation that
took place, sometime afterward, when
everything was quite over, and Dean had
insisted that he walk home with her, by
the long road.
"Horace is so proud of you," she had
said, as she slipped her arm in his. "We're
all proud of you! You not only saved the
day for Ashdown, Fred, but you saved
a life — by your presence of mind."
"Presence of mind — presence of mind!"
How they tortured him, those words!
Was it quite in good taste for her to say
them then? "Presence of mind," he re-
peated, but he had not meant to quote
Dean had insisted that he walk home with her
aloud, "Bah, Horace! His presence of
mind!" A bit surprised, she looked, as she
asked enigmatically: "Did Horace tell
you? Were you vexed because I couldn't
endure him?"
We will say that at this juncture he
stopped and demanded just how and just
why she had used those words, which is
what he should have done before and thus
avoided half an hour's needless discussion,
to bring about the incoherent explanation:
"Why, it was about Mr. Barnard! He
had done something more stupid than
usual, and Horace said he lost his presence
of mind.'
"After the other game, you know — I
wanted to do something for you — some-
thing big — and Horace said that if I made
him — Mr. Barnard, that is — like me — I
might find out about — that Cullomville
captain. He got awfully on my nerves,
but Horace used to tell me how selfish I
was — "
And here, for the second time in his
life, he really, completely, hopelessly, lost
his presence of mind.
^function of
By NATHAN B. WILLIAMS
POSTAL deficits are wholly without justi-
fication and there need be no change in
rates to which publishing and business inter-
ests are adjusted. To talk of who pays postal
deficits is merely juggling; the whole people
pay all taxes in some form.
Three years ago, by accident, I became in-
terested in ascertaining the cause of postal
deficits, and not getting satisfactory informa-
tion from postal officials, I looked into the
subject on my own account and reached the
conclusion that such an unfortunate condition
is caused by the failure of the government to
exercise its rightful, constitutional and law-
fully expressed monopoly in the carriage of
all mail matter.
Representing no interest, I have attended
the House Committee hearings considering
the question of how the postal deficit may be
eliminated and addressed said committee.
Its members are earnest and faithful and
certainly endeavoring to get' at the real facts
and the true conception of post office condi-
tions. Investigation has succeeded investiga-
tion, but the publishing business has been
arbitrarily suggested as the cause of postal
deficits without valid reason. It seems to me
that Speaker Cannon in the multitude of his
cares has not realized the importance of what
I think is one of his greatest opportunities — •
the passage of a new postal law — that will
fittingly follow his early efforts that first gave
to the people reading matter at low postage
rates.
There is no need of raising rates; merely
do what Congress has always done when the
question was understood; forcibly declare that
under the Constitution and laws the post office
has and of right ought to have a full monopoly
in the carriage of all mail or mailable matter.
A new declaration of independence for the
postal sen-ice, a reiteration of time-honored
principles which have actuated Congress and
the American people in the consideration of
this subject from 1790 to 1910. By taking a
hand in such work, having been instrumental
in putting second-class rates at one cent per
( 't'pyriglit, i oio, by Nathan B. Williams
pound, Uncle Joe will turn the tables on some
of his critics and mark another landmark in
postal legislation.
The post office is a public establishment
instituted for the purpose of performing suca
public service as it may by law be authorized
and required to undertake.
Its service is alike to all the people; its chief
office may be a political plum, but the personnel,
those who do the real work, are imbued with
a sincere intent to make the institution as use-
ful as possible. This conception of the legiti-
mate field of the post office has been by
presidential statement designated as embrac-
ing " the comforts of friendly correspondence,
the exchanges of internal traffic and the lights
of the periodical press, shall be distributed
to the remotest corners of the land at a charge
scarcely perceptible to any individual, and
without the cost of a dollar to the public
treasury."
The post office is a natural, proper, govern-
mental monopoly, ana until recent years it
has ever been considered by those responsible,
as necessary that the general government
should have and exercise the duty and re-
sponsibility of providing ways, means and
facilities for the carriage of the mail and at
the same time be entitled to and receive all
the emoluments and profits growing out of
the performance of that service.
In 1859 Congress solemnly declared that
it was inexpedient to abolish the Post Office
Department or repeal all laws that restrained
individuals or corporations from carrying
mails or mail matter. That was nine years
after the first comprehensive law prohibiting
such carriage had been passed by Congress.
The agitation over the private carriage of
mail matter by express companies and others
was constant for many years before the pas-
sage of the law mentioned. A committee
of Congress reporting on the subject said.
"That further legislation is necessary to pro-
tect the public service and that such competi-
tion raised the momentous question, whether
the constitution and laws of the country or a
THE FUNCTION OF POSTAL SERVICE
29
lawless combination of refractory individuals
shall triumph." A distinguished Attorney-
General has said that the business of carrying
letters and other mail matter belongs ex-
clusively to the government. Judge Cad-
wallader, in an exhaustive opinion, said:
"No government has ever organized a system
of posts without securing to itself to some
extent a monopoly of the carriage of letters
and mailable packets. The policy of such an
exclusive system is the subject of legislative,
not judicial inquiry." The monopoly of the
government is an optional, not an essential
part of its postal system. Congress has made
certain proper exceptions from such monopoly
in the new criminal code effective January
first, 1910.
It is inconceivable that the government
should provide for postage upon "letters and
packets" and not have the right to protect the
revenue arising from such service by making
all mail matter pass through the mails when
carried over a post road. All railroad lines
are post roads. To do otherwise is to invite
private enterprise to take the profitable routes
and absorb a great volume of the business
properly belonging to the post office, and to
leave the serving of those remote and isolated
portions of our country to the post office at
a loss and with no opportunity to recoup such
losses from the business done in the more
populous sections.
These observations have been abundantly
verified by the testimony at the recent hear-
ings. Thus, the mailable package business
of the government averages one-third of a
pound; the weight limit is four pounds. The
exercise of a full monopoly of this class of
matter would raise such average to three
pounds, nine times what it is at present; the
cost of handling would be no greater and if
a third of a pound produces a revenue of two
million dollars, nine times two million is
eighteen million, and the postal deficit is no
longer in the way of improvements in the
service and the extension of its benefits to
the whole people.
How must the shades of the immortal
fathers of our country be grieved at the monu-
mental deficits now annually appearing in
our postal department! How they must mar-
vel at our lack of vigilance which permits
private greed to make enormous profits upon
this most beneficent agency of the government !
Section 181 of the new criminal code of
the United States, effective January first, 1910,
provides:
"Whoever shall establish any private ex-
press for the conveyance of letters or packets,
or in any manner cause or provide for the
conveyance of the same by regular trips or
at stated periods over any post route, which is
or may be established by law, or from any
city, town or place, to any other city, town or
place, between which the mail is regularly
carried, or whoever shall aid or assist therein
shall be fined not more than five hundred
dollars or imprisoned not more than six
months, or both: Provided, That nothing
contained in this, section shall be construed
as prohibiting any person from receiving and
delivering to the nearest post office, postal
car, or other authorized depository for mail
matter, any mail properly stamped."
The term "letters or packets" has been in
postal law and postal history since 1650; it
does not mean or has never meant anything
other than what is expressed in the more
modern term "mail matter." Courts of the
United States, of the states, distinguished
attorneys-general, distinguished postmasters
general and many other eminent authorities
fully sustain this position. To say that the
word "packet" in this statute is surplussage,
or that it means nothing, or that it does not
mean or does not include all other mail mat-
ter not included in the term "letter," is to
accuse Congress of carelessness in the use of
words, an imputation which Congress should
properly resent. If the term "packet" does
not include all other mail matter, then what
does it mean? If Congress meant it only to
include the plural of letter, then why resort
to such unusual methods, why violate all
laws of good diction and accuracy in termi-
nology in such an unusual way ?
The bill reported by the joint postal com-
mission in December, 1908, by a few amend-
ments in a few minor particulars becomes a
most excellent post code. No postal official
should have the power of life and death over
the public press, as in that bill provided. If
the public official charged with the duty of
administering such law, when violated, has
a court or courts open in which he may pro-
ceed, that is all the government can reasonably
ask; once admitted to the mails publishers
should be entitled to a reasonable doubt be-
fore having their business destroyed, and pub-
lishers desiring their publications admitted to
30
THE FUNCTION OF POSTAL SERVICE
the mails and being denied such admission
should have the same opportunities.
Congress gets its authority in postal mat-
ters from eleven words in Section 8 of the
Constitution of the United States reading:
"Congress shall have power to establish post
offices and post roads." Since the establish-
ment of the government, this grant has always
been taken to mean that thereby Congress
is vested with the exclusive control of the
entire postal system. These laws prohibiting
transportation by private express or other
unlawful means are the supreme law of the
land. The duty of all good citizens is plain.
Only by the full enforcement of the monopoly
of the postal service can the country come to
know, in the light of experience, whether they
want the service restricted, enlarged, or to
use its increasing revenue in developing and
extending its benefits.
The right to make rates on mail matter is
committed to Congress. State commissions
and rate-regulating bodies should see to it
that no private agency violates the law in the
transportation of mail matter between points
and places over which they have jurisdiction.
To permit any rate -making body to make
rates on mail matter is to supersede and set
aside the work of Congress on the same sub-
ject, and create chaos in the administration of
the postal service.
When the people, publishers and public
officials shall join with Congress in an earnest
endeavor to perform their full duty with
respect to this great public agency, the post
office department will fulfil the purpose of its
founders, there to remain a beneficent public
service, distributing information and earning
a concrete profit for the people "without the
cost of a dollar to the public treasury,"
THE STIRRUP CUP
MY short and happy day is done;
The long and lonely night comes on,
And at my door the pale horse stands
To carry me to distant lands.
His whinny shrill, his pawing hoof,
Sound dreadful as a gathering storm;
And I must leave this sheltering roof
And joys of life so soft and warm.
Tender and warm are the joys of life —
Good friends, the faithful and the true,
My rosy children, and my wife,
So sweet to kiss, so fair to view.
So sweet to kiss, so fair to view, —
The night comes on, the lights burn blue;
And at my door the pale horse stands
To bear me forth to unknown lands.
John Hay, in "Heart Throbs.*'
OTorfo Contract
STATUTORY INTERNATIONAL LAW A NECESSARY PRECE-
DENT TO INTERNATIONAL COURTS OF ARBITRATION
By ROBERT J. THOMPSON
American Consul, Hanover, Germany
IN the question of promoting international
peace, or rather, establishing a permanent
and competent court for the prevention of
war between nations, the merit of the pro-
posal seems so apparent that the wonder of
the world is that it is not already a reality
rather than a dream.
There exists, however, a very general idea
that the nations have not advanced to that
condition of human fellowship whe^e it is
possible to create such courts or, on the
other hand, that war is holy, righteous, and
with its abolition would date the commence-
ment of the decadence of the race. I believe
that both these ideas are false and untenable.
We are fully ready for an international court
of arbitration, but to establish a competent
court we must first create, in a proper and
formal manner, our laws — the only possible
foundation upon which a court can exist.
The rendition of the universally accepted
precepts and rules of international law into
statutory form and their formal and official
acceptance by the sovereign law-making
branches of the several governments of the
world is the bridge which will lead us to a
point where an international court of arbi-
tration and adjudication would automatically
create itself.
A court interprets the law and determines
the facts in a given case. But the law must
be higher than the court. The court cannot
make the law. It must itself be a creature
of the law, and, therefore, in seeking and
hoping to establish an international court of
arbitration under the present circumstances,
we are simply building a house in the clouds.
The substructure of an international con-
stitution or codification of the law of nations
is as essential to such an international court
as the ordinances of a municipal council to
a police court or the statutes of a state to its
department of justice. Nor is any nation
likely to object to or withhold its co-operation
from any dignified and serious proposal that
will lead to a codification and final sovereign
acceptance in statutory form of the great
principles of international law. No govern-
ment can enter the family of civilized nations
of the world without an acquiescence in the
principles of international law. These laws,
for centuries morally accepted by all civilized
nations of the world, need but to be put into
definite written form, accepted and signed in
such form by the law-making branches of the
great powers of the earth, and we will have
brought the nations of the world under
prescribed and fixed rules of action in their
relations to one another. This would mean,
essentially and in brief, an international
constitution.
The righteousness and justness of a war
which might follow the decision of a court
having been formed under such a constitu-
tion would be determined in advance by
the judgment of such court, and this great
weapon, stronger today than fleets and
armies, would not rest upon the individual
interpretation of rights or wrongs arrived at
by contending parties as is now the practice
in questions arising between nations.
Each contending nation always claims
Right and Justice and God on its side in
case of war. But, according to ^ history,
God, in the past, has been on the side of that
power which destroys the most lives, lays
waste the largest areas, and, by its money,
might and greater power, paralyzes and
crushes with weight of arms, preparedness
and physical prowess, the weaker antag-
onist.
The nation, like, the individual, is moved
by mighty impulses, by prejudices, primitive
militant patriotism, by hereditary and his-
torical hatred. Its traditions often tend to
the prevention of a clear, judicial and fair
decision of questions demanding absolute
and exact fairness with another power. .-,
(31)
32
A WORLD CONTRACT
If those principles of justice, truth and
righteousness which we attribute to God
shall find correct expression on this earth,
especially as they relate to differences be-
tween contending nations, such expression
will be voiced by a great tribunal of arbitra-
tion composed of all the recognized powers
of the world, and this tribunal must be a
court founded upon fixed and written law.
We have gone at this proposition of a
competent court for the arbitration of inter-
national differences in a backward, crab-
like fashion. No state, no government is
organized without some sort of regulating
ordinances, constitution or charter, fixed and
prescribed rules of order and conduct.
How far would the original thirteen states —
the United States of America — have traveled
without their Constitution? A government
without a constitution is chaos, and a court
without law is an impossibility.
The years of the Hague Peace Conference
have not been lost. I believe, however,
that had a genuine attempt been made in
the beginning to codify and make binding
on the nations of the earth the principles
and precepts of international law, we would
today be well on the way to a condition which
would itself give birth to a competent Interna-
national High Court of Arbitrament with
navies policing the seas in proof of its com-
petency and in execution of its findings.
In simple thought and simple action lies
the solution of all great problems of human
life.
Unfortunately for the betterment of the
condition of man, the trained and highly
educated mind seems generally compelled,
through force of habit, to apply the complex,
the involved and indirect method of reasoning
in questions of magnitude and great im-
portance.
Man is always ready to assume or theorize
an ideal or prophetic condition — a state
that may be sure to come at some future
time, or which is strongly indicated by present
conditions — and, from this assumed stand-
point, endeavor to create something real.
But his house is built in the air. It dissolves
away like a mirage.
We are eternally crossing bridges before
we reach them. We build our houses and
organize our states — our Utopias — on the
other side, only to awaken and find the river
still lying broad before us, the problem of
crossing yet unsolved.
I think I may state that this is the case
with many of our sociological questions —
socialism and single tax, for instance, and
likewise the proposition of fixed rules for
international arbitration. The propagandist
makes proposals which are ahead of the times.
He is an advance agent. His show may
materialize or not, dependent upon the
action of the practical man who follows
him, he who acts when conditions are right
and -who acts on the things at hand.
Let the pacifists take hold of the handle of
this great problem rather than waste time in
sterile struggles with a vast body that offers
no other purchase than the very evident one
of Statutory International Law.
What nation will be the first to propose
the creation of a joint high commission of
the highest living authorities on the law of
nations for the rendition or reduction of
international law into a world contract —
a written statutory instrument?
First your laws, gentlemen, then your
courts.
LOVE'S DOING
By HENRY DUMONT
WHAT is more beautiful to see
Than that great light in woman's eyes,
When Love hath solved their mystery?
What is more beautiful to hear
Than laughter on the lips whence Love
Hath brushed the shadow of a tear?
—From "A Golden Fancy."
m
Florence Nightingale
WAR strives with Pestilence upon the
shore
Of that storm-vexed, disaster-haunted
sea,
The two allied in friendly rivalry
Haply to see which one shall slay the more;
There, too, are hearts with heavy sorrow sore
That under flag of England valiantly
Have met the marshalled hosts of Muscovy,
Now waiting, — waiting till the pain be o'er.
From ward to ward, from cot to cot she goes
With soothing word, — her cheerful smile so
bright
Outshines the radiance of her midnight lamp.
At her approach the patient sufferer knows
Even in the flesh he is blessed with the sight
Of whom he calls the Angel of the Camp.
Isaac Bassett Choate
in the Boston Transcript
MIDNIGHT ON BEAUTIFUL LAKE WORTH
AN ANTE-BELLUM MANSION IN THE MANATEE COUNTRY
FLORJDA
LAND OF ENCHANTMENT-
by Garnault A§assiz
IF that intrepid explorer, De Soto,
wandering through the limitless
forests and marshes of the land
that Ponce de Leon, in his search
for the fountain of eternal youth, had dis-
covered to Spain, could have looked down
the centuries, and have foreseen the Florida
of today, he might not have wandered to
his death, disappointed, broken in health
and in spirit, admitting at the last that
the Eldorado he had so persistently, so
madly sought was after all a delusion and
a myth.
For the Florida of today is richer far
than any Eldorado he could have con-
ceived of, returning in her varied products
of mine, forest, sea and soil far more
wealth than all the treasure-laden galleons
of Spain could have carried home from
her new conquest.
Settled more than three hundred years
ago, Florida, rich as she is, is yet one of the
least developed of the sisterhood of states.
For more than two centuries she claimed
allegiance to the ensign of Spain, and
Spain has never evidenced any remark-
able proclivity in the field of colonial de-
velopment. What the Florida of today
might have been had a Saxon rather than
a Latin planted the flag of discovery upon
her shores can be only imagined.
After the purchase in 1820 of Florida
from Spain by this Government, and the
driving back forever into nature's strong-
hold, the Everglades, of the Indian, who
had held so cheaply the lives of the early
settlers, Northern, Middle and Western
Florida were ^gradually opened up to
settlement.
For many, many years, however, by
(35)
36
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
far the larger portion of Florida was re-
garded almost universally as* a barren
waste, fever and pest ridden, and wholly
unfitted by nature for the habitation of
man.
True, dotted intermittently along the
picturesque banks of some of the larger
rivers and streams that are part and por-
tion of Florida's great heritage were the
palatial homes of ante-bellum days.
The ruins of some of these perpetuate
the elements. Even to this day one can
look through the portholes from which the
inmates defended with flintlock and arrow
their lives and property from the savage
onslaughts of the red man.
In common with the other Confederate
states, Florida suffered severely in the
struggle between the states, and her de-
velopment necessarily was retarded. Hand-
icapped by limited population and by
limited capital, however, she struggled
NO LONGER IS THE SEMINOLE INDIAN THE TURBULENT WARRIOR OF YORE
their memory to this day. One of the most
beautiful is Braden Castle, on the Manatee
River, five or six miles from the Braden-
town of today. Standing in a beautiful
grove of moss-draped oaks, and surrounded
by all manner of tropical vegetation,
growing in that luxurious profusion known
only to countries in which nature never
sleeps, this old mansion, or more truly,
fortress, except for its wooden floors and
Balustrades, which have fallen in decay,
stands as yesterday, after the lapse of
nearly a century, impervious to time and
bravely forward, doing what she could to
develop her marvelous inherent wealth.
But it was a slow and an uphill fight.
Men, then, had not come to realize that
Florida, in point of climate, in vastness of
natural resources, and in magnificent pos-
sibilities, was indeed an empire.
Some there were, however, who, with
an abiding faith in the ultimate future of
this new land, were willing to become its
pioneers; to meet, wrestle with, and over-
come the difficulties and dangers that beset
their paths; to labor in silence and to
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
37.
patiently await the day of better things.
And that day, long in coming, dawned
at last. Men began to appreciate the fact
that a soil that could raise pine and cypress,
cedar and oak, was fertile enough also to
raise the staple products of the farm.
Gradually new settlers followed in the
steps of the sturdy pioneers, and having
seen and .conquered for themselves, paved
the way for others.
But the settler could not have accom-
bringing those settlements into ready
communication with the markets of the
world, and by opening up to him vast
bodies of inaccessible territory, has made
almost everything accomplished merely
incidental to and conditional upon it.
To the men who have lent their fortunes
and their best efforts to the construction
of Florida's railroads — to such empire-
builders as Yulee, Duval, Plant and
Flagler, the Floridians of future genera-
I
STEAMER LOADING AT KNIGHT'S KEY. THE PRESENT TERMINUS OF THE FLORIDA EAST
COAST RAILWAY
plished unaided the remarkable trans-
formation that has taken place in Florida
in recent years. Nature herself, by en-
dowing Florida with her wonderful system
of inland waterways, has lent him able
assistance; the steamship and sailboat
that have helped to keep him in touch with
the outside world have also played their
part, but by far the largest measure of
his success must be attributed to the rail-
road, which, by interlinking his numerous
settlements in a network of steel, by
tions will have to attribute in no small
measure the successful upbuilding of their
state.
Yes, Florida is truly coming into her
own. Her marvelous resources of forest
and farm, her magnificent fisheries, her
great phosphate deposits, her fertile soil,
and, above all, her wonderful climate, are
focusing at last the attention of the world,
and turning capital and immigration to
her shores.
And with good cause. Of the states
ON THE EDGE OF THE EVERGLADES— A BIT OF FLORIDA JUNGLE
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
39
ROYAL PALM^DRIVE, MIAMI"
east of the Mississippi, ^Florida is second
in area by only a very small margin, being
over 59,000 square miles in extent. She
has over fifteen hundred miles of seacoast,
embracing what is probably the most
wonderful system of land-locked harbors in
the world. Her whole surface is dotted
with wide river and broad lake, guaran-
teeing her, in conjunction with a net-
work of state canals, cheap transporta-
tion for all time to come. Her soil can
produce practically every known fruit
of the earth, most of them in abun-
dance. Her citrus industry is second in
size only to that of California, while in
quality of products it has no superior in
the world. Her trucking industry is in
a class by itself. She has a subterranean
supply of pure water that will permit
the sinking of artesian wells to a depth
of from twenty to five hundred feet
anywhere in the state, thus providing
against even the possibility of drought.*
Her soil is of that peculiar sandy loam
that will readily absorb even the heav-
iest rainfall. She produces over two-
thirds of the world's supply of pebble
and rock phosphate. Her sponge indus-
*These wells are not all natural flow wells by any
means, but the artesian well is a great utilityjeven
when considerable power is required for its main-
tenance.
try is second only to that of Greece.
Her naval stores industry is equal to
that of all the other naval stores pro-
ducing states of the Union. Her pine
industry has a greater annual value
than even the world-famed pine in-
dustry of Georgia. Her cypress indus-
try, yet in its infancy, holds forth a
future of great promise. Her agricul-
tural products, embracing long and
short staple cotton, pecans, corn, oats,
rice, cow peas, velvet beans, peanuts,
tobacco, hay, sugar cane, sweet pota-
toes, all kinds of vegetables and the
chief citrus and tropical fruits, are
more diversified than those of any
other state.- Her vast acreage of graz-
ing lands, available all the year, are
the foundation of a cattle industry that
is growing annually in importance and
promises one day to become one of the
most important in the United States.
Cotton-growing is probably Florida's
oldest industry. Florida as a cotton-
growing state does not occupy the impor-
tant position that her great available acre-
age, fertile soil and equable climate justify.
Before the War, she had some of the largest
and most profitable cotton plantations in
the world, most of them situated in the
middle western section of the state. With
DRIVE FROM LAKE TO^BEACH, PALM BEACH
40
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
the abolition of slavery, however, and the
general despoliation of the state, these
plantations were abandoned, and where
then a single planter had thousands of
acres under cultivation to the cotton stalk,
today the land is partly divided into small
tracts and rented to negro tenants.
The negro tenant system, while, under
existing labor conditions, fundamentally
necessary, is the most serious obstacle to
the development of the cotton-growing
What the cotton counties of Florida
need today is immigration. Less than
fifty per cent of the available cotton lands
of the state — that is, those that have been
planted to cotton in the past — are under
cultivation at the present time, besides
which, there is almost an unlimited acreage
of uncleared lands that are peculiarly
adapted to cotton culture.
The yield per acre can be also very
materially increased. Last year 95,954
SOLDIERS' MONUMENT AND CONFEDERATE PARK, MADISON, WEST MIDDLE FLORIDA
industry of Florida. The average negro
exercises little intelligence as a farmer.
Under proper direction, he is a good
laborer, but left to his own resources and
his own initiative, he is almost invariably
a failure, operating his farm in the crudest
manner possible, employing little or no
farm machinery, the least possible fertilizer,
and paying as little attention to his farm
as is consistent with a living crop. And a
negro can live on very little in Florida.*
*This condition applies only to Middle West Florida,
th- negro not being a factor in other sections.
acres of upland cotton produced only
27,646 bales, while 144,598 acres of the
Sea Island variety yielded only 32,507
bales. With the employment of modern
methods of farming, and the application
of industry, enterprise and intelligence
there is no reason why, with Flori-
da's fertile soil and equable climate, at
least a bale of upland and two-thirds
of a bale of Sea Island cotton may not
be harvested from every acre cultivated.
The chief upland cotton counties of
Florida are Jackson, Jefferson, Leon,
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
41
Calhoun, Madison, Santa Rosa, Walton,
Washington and Escambia, while the chief
Sea Island producers are Suwanee, Hamil-
ton, Alachua, Columbia, Madison, Brad-
ford, Lafayette, Marion, and Jefferson;
Jefferson, Jackson and Leon producing
two-thirds of the total upland, and
Suwanee, Alachua, Hamilton, Madison
and Bradford three-quarters of the Sea
Island product.
Upland cotton is grown more or less
its price is not so subject to fluctuation.
It has many uses. No small portion of
it is manufactured into high-priced mer-
cerized cottons, and it is said that a large
portion of the cheaper silks is adulter-
ated ^ with it also. It is used also as
a sizing in the manufacture of automo-
bile tires.
Madison; Florida, by the way, enjoys
the distinction of possessing the largest
Sea Island cotton gin in the world. It
THE CITY GATES OF ST. AUGUSTINE, THE OLDEST CITY IN THE UNITED STATES
in seventeen, and Sea Island in twenty-
one Florida counties. All of these counties
are in the northern, middle and western
sections of the state, or what is known as
Old Florida. The annual output of Sea
Island cotton last season was valued at
$2,437,067, and the upland cotton at
$1,216,236.
Sea Island cotton is one of the most
important staple crops in the United States,
and Florida is its accepted home. It
commands a premium of at least a hundred
per cent over the short staple variety, and
is owned and operated by the famous
Coates thread people of England, who use
two-thirds of the world's supply of this
commodity. In connection with this gin
there is a cotton seed oil mill, the most
unique of its kind in America.
Another industry of great importance
to Middle West Florida is the growing of
Sumatra leaf tobacco.
Tobacco-growing has been carried on
in Florida for many years. Long before
the war, Quincy, the center of the present
industry, grew a great deal of what
r~~
NOT A FIELD IN INDIANA, BUT IN FLORIDA, WHERE ™-; •
TAGE AS ONE OF THREE STAPLE CROPS ON THE SAME LAND IN THE SAME YE4R_
PARTICULAR VIEW WAS TAKEN NEAR PENSACOLA AND THE FIELD IT REPRESENT.
YIELDED OVER A HUNDRED BUSHELS TO THE ACRE
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
43
was called speckled leaf tobacco. This
tobacco was grown on the hammock
lands and was a sun tobacco. No small
portion of it was used in the United
States, the tobacco at that time being
hauled by wagon to the quaint little
gulf port of St. Mark's, forty miles away,
and from there transhipped by sail.
About one-third of the crop at that time
was exported to foreign countries.
The war, however, sounded ^the; death
have wished, due to the fact that the sun
process would not produce the fancy
wrapper required by the trade. In 1896,
however, there was inaugurated an ex-
periment in tobacco-growing, which was
destined to revolutionize the cigar wrapper
industry of the world — the first intelli-
gent attempt to grow tobacco under shade.
This experiment was the result of an
inherent feeling on the part of some of
the tobacco growers that a more delicately
CULTIVATING SUMATRA TOBACCO
knell of the industry, although a few old
stalwarts, too conservative to permit
even a war to interfere with the accepted
order of things, continued to grow their
tobacco as though no vital revolution had
occurred, selling it as they could, or storing
it for a brighter day.
Until 1887 tobacco-growing was a very
precarious undertaking in Florida, but
from that year until 1896 its growing was
prosecuted on a no inconsiderable scale,
although the business was not so certain
and profitable as those^engaged in it might
textured leaf would be produced by the
protection of the growing tobacco from
the powerful rays of the sun and the con-
sequent conservation of the moisture so
essential to successful tobacco growth.
Like so many other successes in the field
of human endeavor, this discovery was
the result of accident, being conceived
from the realization that tobacco partly
shaded by trees was appreciably better
for wrapper purposes than that entirely
unprotected.
A quarter of an acre being hardly large
44
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
enough to establish the feasibility of the
theory of shade culture, the following year
a whole acre was devoted to the experi-
ment. This last effort was eminently
successful, and proved beyond peradven-
ture the advantage of the new over the
old method. No better indication of this
could have been adduced than tjie fact
that the planter who grew this first acre
of shaded tobacco sold 200 pounds of it
at four dollars a pound, carrying about
which led to the production of a large
amount of inferior leaf; which was all
placed on the market at the same time as
the regular product. This over-produc-
tion and general lowering of standard had
its effect on the industry, and not only
did prices fall, but the demand also. In
1907 the panic further accentuated the
difficulties of the growers, and it was not
until the beginning of 1909 that the in-
dustry began to revive.
A PICNIC IN THE FLORIDA WOODS
a thousand pounds of it to New York for
demonstration. The price of sun tobacco
that year was forty cents a pound.
The experiment having proved success-
ful, the industry was gradually extended
until in 1906 there were over five thou-
sand acres under shade. At this time
fabulous prices were paid by the buyers,
averaging as high as eighty cents a pound
in the field, a condition of affairs which
led naturally to great over-production.
The tobacco area was also extended to
sections not adapted to tobacco growth,
In the latter part of that year the larger
growers, realizing the paramount neces-
sity of placing the industry on a thorough
Twentieth Century commercial basis, ef-
fected a consolidation for the growing,
grading and sale of the product. This
should do much to revive the industry,
for by establishing a uniform grade, a
uniform price, effecting great economies in
production and distribution, and prevent-
ing forever the possibility of a recurrence
of the conditions of 1907, it will place the
industry on an entirely new footing.
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
45
Some idea of the extent of the Florida
tobacco industry can be gained from the
fact that no less than $15,000,000 is in-
vested in the Quincy district alone,
$7,000,000 of which represent the holdings
of a single company. Quincy is a quaint
old town of about three thousand inhabi-
tants, fully two-thirds colored.
Produced on the right kind of soil,
which is a sandy loam, underlaid with a
yellow clay sub-soil, free from even the
edge, which is summed up in ability to
adequately ferment and assort his pro-
duct and pack it identically with the im-
ported, and the commercial ability to
dispose of it afterward, tobacco-growing
offers a profitable, if a precarious invest-
ment, it having been known to yield a
gross income of $1,600 an acre to the
grower for three consecutive years.
Yet another industry, still in its infancy,
that promises to contribute greatly to
CHRIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, PENSACOLA
trace of lime or limestone, and grown under
shade, with the approved method of fer-
tilization and cultivation, Florida shade
tobacco is without doubt the finest substi-
tute for the imported Sumatra leaf growth.
A fine producer, yielding an average of
a thousand pounds to the acre and being
capable of wrapping a thousand cigars
from a pound and a half of leaf , the Florida
tobacco is indeed in a class by itself.
To the experienced grower, with ade-
quate capital and essential requisites to
tobacco growth, such a technical knowl-
the natural wealth of Florida in the future,
is the raising of live stock. This industry
has been an important one to the state
for many years, but its development hae
not been in any way commensurate with
its possibilities. The range cattle industry,
even, has not yet seen its real beginning.
With such important grazing grounds as
are to be found in Escambia, Santa Rosa,
Walton, Lee, Osceola, Hillsboro, Manatee
and other western and southern counties,
there is no reason why it should not be
many times greater than it is.
46
FLORIDA— LAND OP ENCHANTMENT
The cattle industry of Florida is unique.
The supply of native grasses being ade-
quate to their needs, the cattle are per-
mitted to run practically unattended,
being rounded up only twice a year for
branding purposes. These cattle are
either consumed at home or exported to
Cuba. At the close of the Spanish War,
when nearly all the Cuban cattle had been
slaughtered for the use of the Spanish
troops, many thousand head were shipped
have been remarkably demonstrated in
various portions of Florida.
There are a number of large farms that
are practical and successful examples of
what can be accomplished by the appli-
cation of science and intelligence to
general farming.
In Marion County a farm of about two
fiousand acres produced last season nine
car loads of cattle and hogs, twenty-five
car loads of cabbages, nine car loads^of
DAIRY FARM OF A. SNEELGROVE AT FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
to Cuba for the rehabilitation of the
Cuban herds.
The future importance of the Florida
cattle industry, however, will depend
more on the general farm than on the
commercial ranch. The importance of
live stock as a great contributing factor
in the wealth of the farm is being gradually
recognized by the thrifty farmers as is
the importance of improving the native
breed.
The great possibilities of stock-raising
in conjunction with diversified farming
green peas, sixty car loads of watermelons,
forty car loads of cantaloupes, three
thousand bushels of corn, two thousand
bales of hay, and a thousand dollars'
worth of velvet bean seed; the gross
receipts for said products being $43,000,
a large portion of which was profit.
This farm also maintains forty head of
horses, three hundred head of cattle, three
hundred hogs and four hundred sheep,
and has something for sale every working
day in the year.
By a systematic and intelligent rotation
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
47
of crops, the farm is being yearly improved,
and each year sees its boundaries ex-
tended by the clearing of contiguous land.
^This is just one concrete example of
what can be accomplished in North, Middle,
or West Florida, by any farmer willing
to exercise intelligence, energy and care.
-'^The possibilities of stock-raising in
Florida appear to have no horizon. The
demand for beef cattle at a good price is
yearly becoming • more accentuated.
Twenty years ago, when the great wave
South, where there are yet millions of
acres available and where the conditions
for profitable cattle-raising are unexcelled.
Florida especially should have little
difficulty in creating a great cattle in-
dustry, her climate being the most equable
in the land and her soil bringing forth in
abundance most of the chief native grasses
and forage crops, such as the Mexican
clover — a volunteer crop — which grows
to especial advantage in the far western
portion of the state, particularly in
POULTRY THRIVE ANYWHERE IN FLORIDA, AND ARE EXCEEDINGLY PROFITABLE
of immigration into North America that
has been the feature of the past decade
had not been foreseen, the grazing fields
of the West and of Texas were supposed
to be entirely adequate to the require-
ments of the American cattle-raising in-
dustry for all time to come. But things
have changed. Each year sees a gradual
diminution in the range area; the country's
beef exports are evincing a marked falling
off, and already there is talk of import-
ing beef from the Argentine to supply the
ever-increasing home demand.
The future of the cattle industry of the
United States necessarily must be in the
Escambia and Santa Rosa counties, the
cassava, the Thompson and Bermuda
grasses, the velvet bean, cowpea and
kudzu, a Japanese vine that seems des-
tined to fill a longfelt want in the south-
eastern group of states. Alfalfa is also
grown in Florida to some extent, although
not very successfully. It is thought, how-
ever, that it will be a staple crop on
drained everglade lands.
Sheep-raising, too, should be very
profitable in Florida. This branch of
stock-raising is little carried on at present.
Some attempts to develop it, however,
are being made in various portions of the
48
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
state. At Grand Ridge a prominent North-
ern farmer is being quite successful in his
experiment in grading up native sheep
with imported Shropshires. It is his
purpose, if the experiment convinces him
of its entire feasibility, to raise sheep for
mutton on a large scale.
Hogs, too, can be raised very profitably
throughout the state of Florida, which has
always depended upon its world-renowned
razor-back for a large portion of its meat
qualities that are the recognized char-
acteristics of the high-class hog; from
the native stock he derives a finer-grained
and sweeter meat. Hogs produced in
this manner will attain a weight of ninety
to a hundred and twenty-five pounds
against twenty-five to thirty pounds for
the razor-back in the same period.
Poultry-raising is another very profitable
undertaking in Florida, although it has
never been carried on in any way com-
OSCEOLA COURT HOUSE, KISSIMMEE, FLORIDA
supply. And the beauty about the hog
in Florida is that he forages for his own
living, the supply of native grasses and
other wild foods supporting him the en-
tire year.
It is only in the last few years, however,
that some of the more enterprising farmers
have commenced to raise hogs on a com-
mercial scale, breeding up the native
razor-back with imported Berkshires,
Jersey Reds and Poland Chinas. From
the graded stock the breeder derives
quick growth and the deep ham and other
mensurate with its possibilities. An idea
of the profits that this industry holds
forth to the thrifty can be gained from the
following instance : An old German farmer
recently emigrated to Florida, and recogniz-
ing, with characteristic German foresight,
the great market for poultry that the city of
Jacksonville, as the gateway to the state,
offered, settled on the outskirts of that
metropolis, and commenced to raise poultry
in a very moderate way, starting with
eleven hens. Unlike most of his neigh-
bors he refused to sell any of his eggs,
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
49
setting them as fast as they were laid. He
had to deny himself at first, but today,
with some 2,500 fowls, he is netting over
eight dollars every working day in the year.
Near Jacksonville is being erected the
greatest poultry farm in the South, its
buildings and runs covering over ten
acres, and the plant itself being thor-
oughly modern and sanitary.
The equable climate of Florida and the
peculiar freedom of Florida fowls from
that along the Manatee River there were
once a number of large sugar mills from
which in the war between the states the
Confederate Army received no small por-
tion of its sugar supply. These mills are
said to have been razed by the Federa'
gunboats before the close of the war.
Probably Florida's greatest sugar-cane
enterprise was what is known as the Disston
drainage scheme. Hamilton Disston, who
fathered this great project, realized that
p T°HE"kvERGLADE DRAINAGE DREDGES AT WORK ON THE PICTURESQUE
CALOOSAHATCHEE
the ills that beset their kind in other
parts, the great market that the tourist
trade affords, and various other factors,
all contribute to the success of poultry-
raising in the Peninsula state.
One of Florida's real money crops, and
a staple crop in the raising of which there
is little risk, is sugar cane.
Sugar cane has been raised in Florida
from time immemorial, judging by the
Indian traditions that have been handed
down to our time. History tells us also
the muck lands of South Florida were
among the very best sugar-raising lands
in the world. All of these muck lands,
from Kissimmee to Lake Okechobee,
and from Lake Okechobee to the southern
edge of the coraline reef that embraces
them, were then under water, and all
formed collectively the bleak, monot-
onous, mysterious Everglades, which to
the white man must be forever anathema.
Hamilton Disston realized, however,
that this despised, rejected . section was
50
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
destined one day beyond all peradventure
to become one of the agricultural corner-
stones of the state, its fertile lands bring-
ing forth in profusion many of the chief
Starting the Dredges
General view of cleared land under cultivation
The St Cloud Sugar'Mills
THE DISSTON DRAINAGE SCHEME
fruits of the earth, and dotted intermit-
tently with the dwelling places of man.
Hamilton Disston was truly the father of
Florida development. When Mr. Disston
came to Florida from Philadelphia in
1879, Florida was financially bank-
rupt and almost the whole state on
the main peninsula south of a line
drawn west from Jacksonville was a
howling wilderness. Tampa had only
six or seven hundred people and no
railroad communication whatsoever.
The beautiful city of Orlando was a
little hamlet, while Kissimmee was
unknown. Mr. Disston, by pur-
chasing four million acres of Florida's
waste land and giving Florida a mill-
ion dollars in cash, was the first man
to give the land of Ponce de Leon a
fighting chance among the sisterhood
of states.
Like so many other men who have
lent their lives and fortunes to a great
public enterprise, however, Hamilton
Disston never lived to see his great
drainage scheme consummated. He
succeeded in reclaiming a large area
of the land that had been regarded as
useless, however, and although he
never lived to complete his life work,
he demonstrated beyond dispute the
entire feasibility of swampland recla-
mation.
Unfortunately, Mr. Disston's ex-
periment was not the financial success
that his friends would have wished.
The sugar cane grown on his great
plantation at St. Cloud was the equal
of any that could be grown any-
where, but the limited facilities of
transportation at that time and the
absence of a refinery, made its profit-
able cultivation an impossibility. En-
gineering, too, was not so advanced
as now, and the work of cutting the
canals advanced slowly. Mr. Disston
spent $500,000 in his great project of
draining the Everglades, but came to
realize that millions more and more
modern engineering than his day
afforded would be necessary to over-
come successfully Nature's handi-
work, and to force river and iake to
answer to the call of man.
When Mr. Disston died many
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
51
thought that his great labor
had been in vain. But it was
not, for it can be said with
truth that the present drain-
ing of the Everglades, now an
assured fact, might have been
postponed many years but for
the great pioneer work that
Hamilton R. Disston accom-
plished in draining Florida's
waste lands.
At the present time every
county in the state of Florida
raises more or less sugar cane,
the crop last year being valued
at over $600,000. This sugar
cane is now practically all con-
verted into syrup, which com-
mands good prices and a
steady demand, but there is
no reason why sugar could not
be successfully manufactured.
A large sugar refinery in Flori-
da would seem to be a good
investment.
In speaking of sugar-raising
in Florida, one cannot over-
look the big sugar plantation
at Grand Ridge, near Mari-
anna, the county seat of Jack-
son, and one of the most pros-
perous agricultural towns in
the state. This plantation has
four hundred acres in active
cultivation and raises an aver-
age of 450 gallons of syrup to
the acre, clearing at least $150
on every acre cultivated.
While the average amount
of syrup for this plantation
was 450 gallons to the acre,
this is*by no means a possible
average, for with intensive cul-
tivation it is quite possible to
raise eight and even nine hun-
dred gallons.
That sugar cane is a really
profitable crop, the following
point in instance will show. It
is the story of a lone woman,
Mrs. M. J. Edenfeld, of Grand
Ridge. Last year Mrs. Eden-
feld raised eighteen acres of
cotton and two acres and a
half of sugar cane. For her
DRAINING THE EVERGLADES
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
53
cotton she received net, $240; for her
sugar cane, $400, and yet she used the
same amount of fertilizer to the acre on
each and eight times as much labor on the
cotton. And yet the Southern farmer
will cling to cotton as his one means of
salvation.
With approximately four and a half
million boxes of oranges and a million and
a half boxes of grapefruit shipped to
Northern and Western markets last season,
in a prosperous and growing condition.
Money was being made on every side, but
this money was being invested in new and
larger groves. Then came the great
freezes of '94 and '95, and in a single
night, as it were, the citrus industry of
that section of Florida was wiped from
the map, nearly every grove being killed
and over four million boxes of luscious
fruit dying on the tree. Never in all
history, perhaps, did industry meet severer
GENERAL VIEW OF BRADENTOWN. THE CAPITAL OF MANATEE COUNTY
with an annually increasing yield from the
normal growth of the bearing trees, with
the coming into bearing of many new
groves, and with a regularly and steadily
increasing acreage, the citrus industry of
Florida has a future of great promise.
The growth of Florida's citrus industry
has been as remarkable as it has been ro-
mantic. Fifteen years ago, Middle Florida
produced practically all of the citrus fruit
grown in the state, over three-quarters
of the annual output being shipped from
Ocala. The industry at that time was
blow than that 'received by the Florida
fruit-growers at this time. And it was a
blow that shook to its very foundation
the whole industrial fabric of the state,
for Florida at that time depended almost
wholly upon her citrus industry for her
commercial upbuilding. So revolution-
ary was its effect, indeed, that almost
everything in the Florida of today may be
said to date from the year of the big freeze.
For a time it looked as though the citrus
industry of Florida had been killed be-
yond resuscitation. Many of the growers
FLORIDA GRAPEFRUIT— A FOOD FIT FOR THE GODS
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
55
returned to their Northern homes; others
started life anew in some other field of
endeavor. A few, however, confident that
the two successive freezes that had spelled
such disaster to their interests were one
of those peculiar freaks of nature that
cannot be scientifically explained, re-
planted their groves.
But the old area from a citrus fruit
viewpoint was never completely rehabili-
tated. The freeze changed the whole
face of the map of Florida. Few of
the old groves were replanted. The
one county in the state, while Lee County,
with a total of three hundred and twenty-
five thousand boxes, and a vast acreage
of non-bearing trees, Manatee County
with a total of nearly five hundred
thousand and Hillsboro County with
approximately four hundred thousand are
also coming to the front.
It must not be supposed, however, that
Central Florida is no longer a citrus-pro-
ducing section. Indeed, some of the very
finest groves in the state are located in
Marion County, while Levy and other
THE FAMOUS INDIAN RIVER, HOME OP THE LUSCIOUS INDIAN RIVER ORANGE
frost line, which up to that time had been
located somewhere along the imaginary
line that divides Florida from her sister
state, Georgia, was carried two degrees
southward, some of the growers going as
far south as Hillsboro, De Soto, Lee and
Manatee counties in their endeavor to
escape the ravages of King Frost. Thirty
years ago the mere suggestion of growing
citrus fruits in these counties would have
been ridiculed owing to the difficulties of
transportation; today, De Soto County,
with a yield of four hundred thousand
boxes of grapefruit and oranges, pro-
duces more citrus fruits than any other
counties in similarly geographical relation,
are all important citrus-producing sections.
Oranges constitute over three-quarters
of the citrus fruit crop of Florida at the
present time, last year no less than four
million boxes of fruit being shipped
from the state. These oranges had a net
value of over a dollar a box. It is esti-
mated that there are nearly five million
orange trees in the state, although only
about two-thirds are in bearing.
The chief orange-growing counties of
the state are, in order, De Soto, Hills-
boro, Lake, Orange, Manatee, Brevard,
Putnam, Lee and Volusia.
PICKING ORANGES IS AN OCCUPATION FOR OLD AND YOUNG IN FLORIDA
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
57
While the Florida orange is known and
relished wherever oranges are consumed,
it is perhaps not generally known that
there are no less than a hundred and fifty
recognized varieties of the Florida fruit.
Some of these varieties differ so much in
general characteristics as to be in all
senses of the word a distinct orange, while
others differ only in detail. The mer-
chantable crop, however, is comprised of
about eight or ten species. These are
the Sweet Native Seedling, Parson Brown,
the Pineapple, the King, the St. Nicholas,
the Jaffa, the Ruby Blood, the Valencia
Late and the Tangerine.
The Sweet Seedling variety comprises
at least sixty per cent of the annual crop.
The Sweet Seedling is a beautiful orange,
sweet and juicy. The famous Indian
River oranges are practically all Sweet
Seedlings, and some of the largest and
best groves in the state are the same, at
least seventy-five per cent of De Soto
County's groves being of this variety.
Most of the groves now being planted in
the state, however, are budded trees.
This is due in no sense to any defects in
ORANGE BLOSSOM
the seedling, but to the fact that a budded
tree will fruit in three years as against
seven to nine years for the seedling.
HARVESTING GRAPEFRUIT ON CHRISTMAS /DAY
58
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
The Parson Brown is a very early
variety that can be eaten when almost
green. It must be marketed before Christ-
mas, however, as it is not a good keeper.
This orange is a budded tree that was
once a sport. Sometimes budded orange
trees are forty times removed from the
parent tree. Most of the oranges are
budded on the native sour or grapefruit
stock, although the lemon stock is not
infrequently used.
its surpassing excellence has become more
widely recognized, it will be one of Florida's
most highly prized oranges. The King
orange is grown chiefly, today, in Lee,
Manatee and De Soto counties, where the
soil and climatic conditions seem to be
most favorable to its growth. The one
drawback to this variety is its poor shipping
qualities.
Another profitable orange is the Valencia
Late, or Tardiff. Like the Pineapple,
THE CALOOSAHATCHEE RIVER AT FORT MYERS
From the home of Dr. Hamilton Miles, of Elkhart, Indiana
The Pineapple is one of the finest
oranges grown, both in color and flavor.
It is a mid-season orange, ripening in
January. It is also a very profitable
orange to grow, especially in the far
southern portions of the state.
The King orange is comparatively a
new variety, and is as yet little known.
It has a very rough skin and an unsym-
metrical shape, and would not make a
very favorable first impression to the un-
initiated. Its flavor, however, cannot be
excelled, and there is no doubt that when
this variety is a good shipper and has
every quality that constitutes a good
orange. It reaches the market after most
of the Florida oranges have been disposed
of, and, while it comes into active compe-
tition with the early California navel
varieties, it commands a high price among
those dealers who insist upon purchasing
a Florida orange so long as they can ob-
tain it.
Whatever may be said as to the relative
merits of Florida and California oranges,
no one can gainsay that the Florida grape-
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
59
fruit is, beyond all question, the finest
grapefruit produced in the world.
Twenty years ago the grapefruit, which
was introduced into Florida by old Captain
Shaddock from the East Indian Islands,
was hardly known to this country. It
was a monstrosity, something pleasing to
the eye, but not to the taste. The first
two car loads that were shipped from
Lakeland to Chicago and were purchased
from the grower, as a speculation, at a
state are, in order, Lee, Manatee, De Soto,
Hillsboro, Dade, Orange and Lake. Lee
County, with a total of two hundred
thousand boxes last season, and twice the
acreage of any other county, probably
produces more grapefruit than any other
county, although De Soto and Manatee
are both close seconds. Lee County has
four thousand acres under cultivation, and
the acreage is being increased very rapidly.
Another county which is becoming an-
CITRUS FRUIT DISPLAY AT THE FLORIDA STATE FAIR, TAMPA
cost of fifty cents a box, against three
dollars and a half a box today, not only
did not return the original investment,
but cost the buyer $225 in freight. The
Chicago people did not want any Florida
grapefruit — thank you. Last season more
than nine hundred cars of the fruit,
that has been pronounced by recognized
connoisseurs the world over as a food fit
for the gods, entered the Windy City,
bringing from four to nine dollars a box at
retail, according to season.
The chief grapefruit counties of the
nually more important in the growing of
grapefruit is Hillsboro. This county has
within its borders the famous Pinellas
Peninsula, which is said to produce as
fine a grapefruit as can be grown in the
state. This section is peculiarly favored
on account of its water protection. Winter
Haven in Polk County is also a great pro-
ducing section, although this district is
better known as the home of the Tardiff
orange. The Indian River grapefruit, like
the Indian River orange, is too well known
to require mention.
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
61
Near Fort Myers, Lee County, is sit-
uated the largest grapefruit grove in
the world. This grove is approximately
six hundred acres in extent and is owned
by Mr. D. A. Floweree, the Montana
cattle king. There are a number of other
large groves along the Caloosahatchee,
most of them owned by Northern capi-
talists.
Another famous grapefruit grove, prob-
ably the best known in Florida, is the
erected what is probably the largest and
best equipped citrus-packing house in
the United States. Two stories in height,
this huge packing house has a capacity of
twenty car loads of fruit a day. Its di-
mensions are 132 x 260, and it is a modern
warehouse in every sense of the word, all
of its equipment being run by electricity,
and the fruit being conveyed through the
various stages of sizing, selecting, cleaning
and polishing by moving belts.
A FIELD OF PINEAPPLES ON THE EAST COAST OF^FLORIDA
Atwood grove at Manavista, near Bra-
dentown, in the Manatee country. This
has been the largest producing grove in
the state for many years, from seventy-
five to eighty-five thousand boxes of fruit
being shipped from it annually.
Yet another large grove— the largest
citrus fruit grove in the state, most of its
fruits being oranges, however— is the
Monarch Grove, near Summerfield. This
grove is approximately a thousand acres
in extent.
At Fort Myers, Florida, there has been
This packing house was erected by the
growers of Lee County and it is expected
that it will result, through a more uniform
method of grading and packing, in better
prices for Lee County's fruit.
The possibilities of citrus fruit culture
in Florida are enormous. The demand
for the Florida orange is becoming more
accentuated every year, while the supply
of grapefruit will not be equal to the de-
mand for many years to come, for once
introduced into a new market it makes an
instant conquest. And the profits are
62
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
enormous. Some ten-year grapefruit
groves are now netting over a thousand
dollars an acre annually, and this figure is
no uncommon one for the older orange
groves. A net profit of five hundred dollars
for grapefruit and three hundred for or-
anges to the acre can be depended upon an-
nually, providing the grower exercises the
proper care and attention that a successful
grove demands, and providing he is not
handicapped by unforeseen conditions, such
as frost or pestilence, and with the modern
A grapefruit or orange grove in Florida
is just about as safe an investment as can
be found at the present time.
In the growing of the pineapple, also,
Florida is fast coming to the front, last
year no less than five hundred thousand
crates of this tropical fruit being shipped
from the Peninsula State. The larger
portion of Florida's pineapples is what
is known as the Red Spanish variety.
This species is grown exclusively on the
East Coast, where the soil and climate
A FLORIDA BANANA PLANTATION
methods of grove-heating there is no reason
why frost should be a serious menace to
the welfare of any grove.
It has been said that most of the land
suitable to the cultivation of citrus fruits
has been already taken up. This is not
the case. Today there are thousands of
acres of available land in Lee, De Soto,
Manatee, Dade, Palm Beach, and Hills-
boro counties that can be purchased
at a ridiculously low price, considering
the value of even a three-year-old grove.
And in every other citrus-producing county
there is plenty of room for expansion.
are on even larger acreage peculiarly
adapted to it. The lands along the line
of the East Coast Railway in Dade, Palm
Beach and St. Lucie counties produce over
four-fifths of the annual crop. Over a
thousand acres are in cultivation to the
pineapple in the little village of Delray
alone, while the acreage of Stuart, Fort
Pierce and Jensen is almost as great.
The largest pinery in Florida is situated
on Marco Island, Florida Key, fifty miles
from Fort Myers. \Itais two hundred
acres in extent and ships about 50,000
crates annually.
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
63
With the opening up of new lands and
the more scientific cultivation of those
now in use, this industry unquestionably
will be greatly extended in the next few
years. The great drawback to the
growing of pineapples in Florida at the
present time, according to the growers,
is competition from Cuba, where this fruit
can be grown a great deal more eco-
nomically. As it is, however, the pine-
apple is a fairly profitable crop, the yield
of 250 to 600 crates an acre, according
to the fertility of the soil and the amount
of soil. Orlando has a hundred and fifty
acres of shaded pineapples. The average
acre's yield is $1,500, of which about half
is profit. About eighteen months is re-
quired to mature the pineapple, and the
shipping season lasts virtually the entire
year, June and July being the big shipping
months.
An orange that can be grown very suc-
cessfully in North and West Florida is the
Satsuma, named from the city of Satsuma
in Japan, -where it is said to originate.
The Satsuma orange grows to unusual
MB
GROWING PINEAPPLES UNDER SHADE IN WEST FLORIDA
of fertilizer employed, bringing from
$1.50 to $2.50 a crate in car load lots.
On the West Coast of Florida and a small
section of the Central portion, is located
the largest shade pineapple industry in
the world. This is the production of the
smooth leaf Cayenne, such as is grown
in the Azores under glass. This pineapple
was introduced into Florida by the United
States Government, from British Guiana
about ten years ago. It thrives anywhere
above tide water on the low flat lands
around Punta Gorda, or other sections
having the same general characteristics
perfection in the Gulf Coast Country
from Florida to Texas. It is a very choice
variety, and, commanding a high price,
and being practically unsusceptible to frost
— that is, of course, the light frost that some-
times visits the citrus-producing sections
with such disaster— is a very profitable
fruit to raise.
But citrus fruit culture is not the only
branch of horticulture that can be success-
fully carried on in Florida; indeed, a few
states can .produce in such surpassing
excellence such fruits as the pecan, the
pear, the peach and the fig.
GREAT PECAN TREE ON THE GRIFFIN FAMILY PLANTATION AT MACCLENY, FLORIDA
FLORIDA— LAND^OF ENCHANTMENT
65
While pears and peaches are grown very
extensively in Middle and West Florida,
these branches of the fruit-raising industry
have never been developed to the extent
of their possibilities, attributable, partly
to lack of organization and partly to an
inherent inability on the part of the native
Floridian to divert himself from the agri-
cultural byways of his fathers. Figs will
grow in Florida as well as anywhere in
the United States. The great difficulty
pecan is indigenous to the Southern states,
to California, and to Northern Mexico,
attaining its greatest degree of perfection
in the cotton belt, and being found most
extensively in the state of Texas.
A tree that will live from three to seven
hundred years, that will fruit practically
all its life, that will attain to a height of a
hundred and fifty feet, that is susceptible
to neither drought nor other climatic
irregularity, that has no vital enemy, a
FAMOUS OAK TREE IN THE BEAUTIFUL GROUNDS OF THE TAMPA BAY HOTEL
of the fig, however, is its poor shipping
qualities. The great need of the fig-grower
in Florida today is pressing plants, con-
veniently situated in various parts of the
belt, which extends clear across the
northern part of the state, so as to permit
the shipping of the fruit without fear of
damage.
With the pecan, however, it is dif-
ferent. The fruit of the pecan can be dis-
posed of at any time, and is, therefore,
independent of the exigencies of market.
King of all the nut-bearing trees, the
tree that combines the beauty of the mag-
nolia and the symmetry of the pine with
the stateliness of the oak and the fecundity
of the walnut, the pecan is certainly one
of nature's greatest gifts to the South.
Thirty years ago this beautiful tree was
a great deal more plentiful than it is today.
Then it had little or no commercial value
and, like the pine, it was ruthlessly, re-
morselessly slaughtered, not, as with the
pine, for its valuable lumber, but to make
room for King Cotton, the great staple
of the South. Texas and Louisiana lost
66
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
thousands upon thousands of acres in
this way; and they have come to realize
the extent of that loss, and their vital
mistake in destroying a tree that has an
intrinsic value of from three to five hun-
dred dollars to raise a commodity that
can command at most from five to six
cents a pound, and they are doing their
best to rectify it.
This movement to restore the pecan
forests of the south to their former gran-
deur received an extraordinary impetus
a couple of years ago in the unique death-
bed request of the late [Governor Fogg
of Texas, who said:
pecan has been made, but the results have
proved beyond peradventure that their
growing will be as important to the South
in the next ten years as the growing of the
English walnut is to California at the
present time.
The nuts produced in the commercial
orchard are called paper shell pecans on
account of the ease with which they are
broken by the thumb and the forefinger.
They grow to an immense size, are of a
dark gray color striped with black, and
vary much in both shape and color. Each
nut has a distinct flavor that is easily
recognized by an expert. Forty to seventy
•WAY DOWN UPON THE SUWANEE RIVER"
" 'I want no monument of stone nor
marble, but plant at my head a pecan tree,
and at my feet an old-fashioned walnut,
and when these trees shall bear, let the
pecans and the walnuts be given out
among the plain people of Texas, so that
they may plant them and make Texas
a land of trees."
It was a beautiful prayer, and its ful-
fillment should do much to beautify the
state. But whether this comprehensive at-
tempt at pecan reforestation is successful
or not will have little or no effect on the
pecan industry of the future, which will
depend almost wholly upon the commer-
cial orchard.
It is only within the last few years that
any attempt to commercially cultivate the
of these nuts will make'a pound, as against
one hundred and fifty to three hundred
of the ordinary kind.
Five acres of pecan trees will in time
bring a good and permanent income, pro-
vided those trees have been either grafted
or budded and properly cared for. The
superiority of the grafted or budded trees
over the seedling is very marked. A
seedling rarely produces before the twelfth
to the fifteenth year, while a budded or
grafted tree will produce in the fifth or
sixth, and has been known to bear in even
the third. The cost of maintaining a pecan
grove is quite considerable for the first
five or six years, but requires little atten-
tion thereafter.
The wild pecan is found in various sec-
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
67
tions of Florida — on the hammock lands
around Cedar Keys, in Levy County, and
also scattered along the northern boun-
dary line of the state, particularly in
Nassau, Jefferson, Leon, Santa Rosa
and Escambia counties. There is, how-
ever, no denned belt, which leads
experts to the conclusion that the existing
native groves were planted by the Indian
aborigines, who regarded the fruit of the
pecan very highly.
Columbia and Suwanee counties respec-
tively, and Cokomoka, near Hilliard, in
Nassau County, where, by the way, there
is a single grove of sixteen hundred acres.
Another large grove, about six hundred
acres, is located at Dade City, in Pasco
County.
Florida is finding an ever-increasing
portion of her wealth in the production
of garden produce. Producing at a time
when no other section can, she commands
PECANS GROW TO PERFECTION IN SOUTH GEORGIA, AND NORTH, MIDDLE AND
WEST FLORIDA
Showing how velvet beans are grown among pecans successfully
The pecan can be grown in Florida any-
where north of an imaginary line drawn
from a point south of Tampa on the west
coast to Rockledge on the east, attaining
its greatest degree of perfection in the
northern and western sections of the state,
particularly along the Georgia and Alabama
lines.
The chief centers of the industry today
are Monticello, a beautiful little town in
Middle West Florida about twenty-eight
miles east of Tallahassee, the romantic old
capital, Lake City, and Live Oak, in
a range of prices for her produce that,
to the average Northern gardener, would
seem fabulous.
Of all of Florida's truck produce, the
tomato has the greatest present value.
This industry is constituted chiefly on the
East Coast, between Palm Beach and
Knight's Key. It is also in its infancy,
but it is a giant infant. Last year more
than a million and a half crates of tomatoes,
valued at nearly $2,000,000, were shipped,
Dade and Palm Beach counties producing
about three-quarters of the entire crop.
68
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
Some idea of the immensity of the industry
in these counties can be gained from the
fact that it required six solid car loads of
tissue paper to wrap the tomatoes shipped
from this section in a single week.
Second only in value to the tomato
comes celery. This valuable industry
is comparatively an infantile one. Less
than five years ago, practically no celery
was shipped from the state. Last year the
crop approximated more than $600,000.
:teen
sixteen hundred crates left Sanford for
Western and Northern markets.
Ten years ago, land in the Sanford
section could be bought anywhere from
two to five dollars an acre; today these
lands command anywhere from $200 to
$400 an acre, while improved lands bring
as much as $2,000.
Manatee is another county that pro-
duces just as fine celery as can be grown in
Florida. This county, being farther south,
A FIELD OF FLORIDA LETTUCE, SHOWING IRRIGATION AND SHADING
The chief celery-producing counties in
Florida at the present time are Orange,
Manatee and Hillsboro, but the tomato
can be grown successfully almost any-
where in the state.
In Orange County is located the famous
little city of Sanford, the cradle of the in-
dustry and, with the exception of Kalama-
zoo, Michigan, the largest celery centre
in the world. The growth of the celery
industry at Sanford has been wonderful.
Ten years ago it had shipped not a single
crate of celery. Last winter more than
and therefore maturing its crop even
earlier than Sanford district, receives
more per acre than even that famous
district.
Last season Manatee County was a
close second to Orange County in the
production of celery. Celery, inf act, can
be grown profitably almost anywhere in
Florida, as can practically every other
vegetable.
The growing of Irish potatoes is also
receiving wider attention every year.
Hastings, St. Johns, is the present centre
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
69
of this industry, producing more than
half of the potatoes shipped from the
state, but they can be grown with profit
anywhere in £he state on the right kind of
soil. Nearly five thousand acres are
under cultivation to the Irish potato at
the present time, the value of last season's
crop being $500,000.
In the growing of strawberries Florida
promises one day to outrival even North
Carolina. In a sense she does this al-
from December to March. Strawberries
on Thanksgiving day are no uncommon
decoration of the Florida Thanksgiving
dinner.
The chief strawberry-growing centers
are Orlando, Lakeland, Plant City, Starke,
Lawtey and Dade City. Last season
Lakeland shipped over 500,000 quarts,
while Starke and Lawtey, whose ship-
ments are generally considered as from
one district, shipped even a greater amount.
FLORIDA SWEET POTATOES ARE PROLIFIC
ready, for her strawberries enter the
market before any others, bringing fabulous
prices. Last year strawberries grown at
Fort Lauderdale and Miami on the East
Coast brought the phenomenal figure at
the commencement of the season of a
dollar a box to the grower, while seventy-
five cents was no uncommon price for
strawberries grown in other portions of
south Florida. The average price last
season was twenty-five cents a box net
to the grower. Strawberries are planted
in August and September and harvested
The cabbage is another valuable winter
crop, as is the egg-plant, squash, cucum-
bers, watermelons and cantaloupes.
Florida is, undoubtedly, destined to be
the great truck-producing state of the
Union. Not only are her soil and climate
peculiarly fitted for the growing of garden
produce, but her whole surface is well
supplied with pure water, readily and
economically available. One can sink
an artesian well at a depth of from ten to
three hundred feet anywhere in the state.
Artesian irrigation is nature's greatest
70
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
gift to Florida, making the grower entirely
independent of climatic irregularities.
Artesian irrigation has an untold effect
on the growing crop, whether it be celery,
potatoes, tomatoes or egg-plants, even
in a normal season increasing the yield
more than twenty-five per cent. And
the cost is insignificant compared with the
profits. Florida's celery industry has
certainly been built up to its present
status by irrigation, and what is true of
from three or four crops a year, in South
Florida at least. Celery can be followed
by tomatoes, and tomatoes by cabbage,
and each yield an independent profit.
A number of other methods of crop ro-
tation, according to the choice of the
farmer, though depending also on the
section of the state in which he is located,
may be followed.
Few states in the Union have more
valuable or more diversified fishing in-
AUTOMOBILING ON THE FINE SHELL ROADS OF PALM BEACH COUNTY
celery is true of practically every other
crop that requires adequate moisture to
insure its proper growth.
Trucking in Florida holds out certain
success to the man with some capital and
a degree of intelligence. It will afford
an existence to anyone, for it can be said
with truth that a single acre will maintain
a man and his family for a whole year.
Even a half an acre, properly cultivated,
has been known to do the same.
And the beauty of Florida's soil and
climate is that it permits a rotation of
dustries than Florida, which, with twelve
hundred miles of sea coast and numerous
fresh water rivers and lakes, is susceptible
of producing enough sea food to fill the
demand of a large section of this country
for all time to come.
Florida's chief fishing industries are
at Pensacola, Apalachicola, Cedar Keys,
Sarasota, Punta Gorda, Fort Myers, Key
West, Miami and Jacksonville, nearly all
salt water fish being found. Some of these
are the mullet, pompano, red fish, Spanish
mackerel, blue fish, sea trout and Jew fish.
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
71
Her chief fresh water fish are black
bass, pickerel, speckled perch, bream and
catfish. More than ten thousand pounds
of fish are caught daily in Lake Okeechobee,
the second largest body of water com-
pletely within the boundaries of the
United States, and one of the most beauti-
ful lakes in the universe.
Unlike other sections, where the season
is limited, Florida can produce fish of
some kind or another all the year round.
boro Bay, Sarasota Bay, Charlotte
Harbor, Cedar Keys, St. Mark's Bay,
St. Andrew's Bay and Escambia Bay,
most of the oysters being found in the
Gulf, the salinity of the waters of the
Atlantic not being so favorable to oyster
growth.
Approximately a million bushels of
oysters were taken in Florida last year,
and the value of the industry was esti-
mated at about $500,000.
STRAWBERRIES GROW TO PERFECTION ANYWHERE IN FLORIDA
Last season more than ten million pounds
of fish, with an approximate value of
$2,000,000, were caught in Florida.
Oysters, too, constitute another growing
Florida industry. Oysters have been
caught and eaten since the first landing
of the white man on her shores, and there
is material evidence that they constituted
an important article of diet for the red
man who preceded him.
The principal oyster beds in Florida
are found at Fernandina, the mouth of
the Indian River, Mosquito Inlet, Hills-
Florida's oysters are either shipped in
authorized carriers and tubs or in her-
metically sealed cans. Some years ago,
the larger portion of them was shipped in
barrels, and it is said that no less than
five hundred barrels a day were shipped
from Apalachicola alone, during the height
of the oyster season.
With the development of transporta-
tion facilities to the West and Southwest,
it has been found more profitable, however,
to ship the oysters in the open state.
About three hundred thousand barrels
72
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
were shipped in this manner from Florida
last season.
Canned, or cove oysters, constitute by
far the largest portion of Florida's output
at the present time, more than six hundred
thousand bushels being shipped annually
in this way. The chief canneries are
situated at Apalachicola, Cedar Keys,
Tampa and Fernandina. Most of them
are modern buildings, and all the oysters
leave the state in perfect condition.
He entirely the salvation of Florida's
oyster industry.
Midway between Cedar Keys and Tampa,
securely sheltered by nature, from the
raging storms without, lies in seclusion
the romantic little town of Tarpon Springs,
the centre of Florida's sponge industry.
The gathering of sponges has been
carried on in Florida for over forty years,
ever since, in fact, the native population
first discovered that that denizen of the
JUST POSING FOR A PICTURE BEFORE CRATES ARE PACKED
The cardinal necessity of the oyster
industry of Florida today is state protec-
tion. Probably no state in the Union
exercises so little discretion in this regard
as Florida. Rhode Island, with only
thirty miles of sea coast, derives more
than $100,000 a year from her oyster
industry, while Florida with her far greater
range of coast, nothing. In the conserva-
tion of Florida's oyster beds, and in the
securing of state protection for private
grounds, such an one as one needs
in Connecticut and Rhode Island, will
sea had a commercial value. It is only
within the past fifteen years, however,
that the industry has been of any consider-
able importance to the state, and only
within the past six that it has attained
anything like its present magnitude.
For many years the headquarters of
the industry was at Key West, but during
the Spanish-American War, the sponge
fleet fled for safety to Tarpon Springs,
and, finding it so admirably situated, de-
cided to remain there permanently.
Within the past few years the sponge
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
73
industry has been completely revolu-
tionized, both in the manner of gathering
the sponge and in the marketing of the
crop. Up to five years ago, the old hook
method of sponge gathering was employed
exclusively.
The hook method, which by the way is
still used in the Mediterranean industry,
is as follows: The man who does the
fishing is supplied with a bucket with a
glass bottom and a long pole with a hook
Five years or so ago one of the big
sponge operators conceived the idea of
saving time and money by the employ-
ment of deep sea divers. To this end he
brought out some experienced divers from
Greece, and set them to work. The ex-
periment was successful, so successful that
in a few months the new had superseded
the old method almost entirely. And the
effect on the industry was marked, the
output being almost doubled the first
THIS REMARKABLE CATCH WAS MADE BY A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD YOUNG LADY
AT FORT MYERS
at the end. These poles vary in length
from twenty to fifty feet according to the
depth of the water to be fished. In the
actual fishing for the sponges, the operator
lies face downward, and looks through the
glass bottom of the bucket, which magni-
fies the sponge sufficiently to permit its
hooking only those of legal size, the law
being very rigid on this point. This method
is carried on in rowboats only, manned
generally by a single hooker and a man
to row.
year. More than three hundred sail-boats
and fifteen hundred Greeks are employed
in the Florida sponge industry at the
present time, and the annual value of the
product is over $1,000,000. Most of the
boats are fitted with gasoline engines.
Some of the boats in the sponge fleet are
exact replicas of the early Greek craft.
Besides the sponge beds on the gulf,
which extend some three or four hundred
miles along the coast, sponges can be found,
more or less extensively, all through the
74
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
Florida Keys. In the Bay Biscayne the
gathering of sponges is carried on quite
extensively, but while sponges are of su-
perior quality, the industry is a very
small one compared with the West Coast.
There are some twenty-five sponge
packing houses in Tarpon Springs, em-
ploying from six to ten men each. Here
the sponges are clipped, sorted, classified
and baled. The sponges are sold at auction
twice a week, when buyers assemble
from all parts of the world.
By far Florida's most important single
industry lies in the development of her
tion will, necessarily, be delayed for many
years to come, for Florida has yet millions
of acres of pine that have never felt the
axe. It is estimated that there are over
sixteen billion feet of pine lumber within
a radius of a hundred miles of Apalachicola,
and all along the shores of the Gulf can
be found huge areas of pine timber, a
great deal of which has never even been
turpentined.
In Hillsboro County there is a single
body of pine timber that is said to contain,
at a most conservative estimate, more
than three billion feet of lumber that
AN EXAMPLE OP INTENSIVE FARMING UNDER CANVAS
forest wealth. Her resources of yellow
pine are larger than those of any other
state, and every single one of- her counties
has a more or less extensive supply of
this valuable wood. For many years
a large portion of Florida was to all intent
and purpose one huge pine forest, and it
was not until a few years ago, when the
great pine forests of Georgia that were
considered, by even the most conservative
lumber men, to have untold life, began
to show material signs of diminution,
that the lumber men in their endeavor to
supply the ever-growing demand for yellow
pine turned their attention to Florida.
While Florida's vast pine forests are
doomed, the day of their ultimate destruc-
never felt the effects of the woodsman's
axe.
There are, at the present time, about
two hundred and fifty saw mills in the
pine region of Florida and the annual out-
put is valued at $12,000,000. And there
is every reason to believe that in the next
few years this number will be very appre-
ciably increased. A fair estimate of
Florida's pine resources would be at least
a hundred billion feet, but it would take
a thousand saw-mills many, many years
to cut anything like the available supply.
In cypress Florida is also rich. In only
one body of cypress in Lee County, em-
bracing over a hundred thousand acres, there
is said to be over eight hundred million
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
75
feet of lumber. This timber, owing to the
fact that it is served by neither rail nor
water transportation, has little intrinsic
value at the present time but, when once
opened up to commercial development,
will be worth at least $4,000,000 in the
stump. The cypress industry is still in
its infancy, and it is only within the last
few years that any material effort has
been made to develop it. There are,
however, some large cypress lumber plants,
tining employed. The cup system of
turpentining that has been introduced,
however, has had a preserving effect on
the whole industry, minimizing the damage
to the tree and increasing both the yield
and the quality of the product. It has
lengthened the life of the tree which,
under the old method of turpentining,
was placed at four years. Government
figures show that the use of a cup for four
consecutive years would not only pay its
THE TAMPA BAY HOTEL, A $5.000,000 STRUCTURE, OWNED BY THE CITY OF TAMPA
notably at Pensacola, Apalachicola, St.
Augustine, Loughman and Tampa.
With a production that is jnore than
equal to that of the remainder of the
country, Florida's naval stores industry
has an annual value of over $12,000,000
to those engaged in it. While this industry
has reached the zenith of its possibilities,
it is probable that it will be at least ten
years before it begins to show any appre-
ciable wane. A few years ago, it looked
as though the whole industry was doomed,
so wasteful were the methods of turpen-
cost, but would yield $1,875 per crop
more than the antiquated box system, the
crop being estimated at ten thousand
boxes. There are over sixteen million
cups in service at the present time, and
their use is being gradually extended.
Another great factor in the economic
development of Florida will be the Panama
Canal. Whatever the disposition of some
people in the North and West toward this
great public enterprise, no dissenting
voice can be found in Florida, or, for
that matter, in any of the Gulf States,
76
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
And with good reason. By far the
larger portion of goods exported from the
United States to the western coast of
South America and to the Orient at the
present time are shipped by way of Eng-
land or Germany, steel, for instance,
being transferred for the most part from
the iron fields of Alabama to Norfolk or
some other Atlantic port, from there
shipped to Europe, and again reshipped
to its ultimate point of destination.
first time, in a position to compete suc-
cessfully with its great European rival,
Germany, for the ever-growing trade of
South America; in fact, will beyond
question give her a commercial monopoly
in that region in all classes of merchandises
in which freight rates are an important
factor.
Florida, more than any other state,
perhaps, is destined to share abundantly
in the prosperity so sure to follow in the
WINTERING IN THE LAKE REGION OF CENTRAL FLORIDA
The opening of the Panama Canal
necessarily will change all this. No
longer will the present method of things
be continued, for with the extraordinary
advantages enjoyed by vessels sailing
from American ports, competition by
those sailing from European ports will
be out of the question.
And the building of the Panama Canal
will not only give the South Atlantic
and Gulf port a large proportion of the
South American and Oriental trade, but
it will place the United States, for the
wake of the completion of this gigantic
enterprise. Not only has she more harbors
that may hope to derive direct benefit
from it, but most of those harbors are
in closer proximity to the Canal than
those of any other state.
Some of these ports are Pensacola,
St. Andrews Bay, St. Josephs Bay, Apa-
lachicola Bay, Cedar Keys, Tampa and
Port Tampa, Punta Gorda, Key West,
Jacksonville and Fernandina. Chief of
these in point of size is Pensacola — one of
the finest harbors in the world.
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
77
Geographically and strategically Pen-
sacola is the mistress of the Gulf. Her
nineteen square miles of protected an-
chorage are less than eight nautical miles
from the open sea. The entrance to
her harbor can be negotiated with ease
at any hour of the day and any day in
the year by any experienced navigator,
being over thirty-three feet deep at every
point and at one point as deep as fifty-two,
and by vessels that can make no other
the steel and coal fields of Alabama, and
the productive Middle West, she is the
logical port of entry and export for a large
portion of the trade and commerce that
the completion of the Panama Canal
necessarily will create. She is one of the
only harbors in the country that is sus-
ceptible to indefinite extension.
While proportionately little developed,
Pensacola has yet a considerable present
commerce. Her exports, which in the
A WINTER PICNIC AT TARPON SPRINGS
port on the Gulf. She is the nearest de-
veloped port of consequence to the Panama
Canal, being only 1,344 miles from and
directly north of Colon. She is the only har-
bor south of Hampton Roads in which the
North Atlantic Squadron— which makes
her its winter rendezvous — can maneuver
in perfect safety; indeed, in a recent
torpedo practice not a single torpedo
missed fire, a record never before accom-
plished in a land-locked harbor in the
United States. As the terminus of the
short rail haul between the Gulf of Mexico,
calendar year of 1909 reached the hand-
some total of $21,000,000, were larger than
those of all other Florida ports combined.*
In point of value cotton represented
over half the grand total of Pensacola's
exports, lumber coming next with a value
of five million odd dollars, and then naval
stores with two. Other products exported
were pig iron, copper, cotton seed meal,
tobacco, phosphate, and steel rails. Pen-
*This represents an increase of nearly 250 per cent
in the last decade.
IN THE PINEY WOODS OF FLORIDA"?
A RAF'
RiJJA LOGS
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
79
sacola is the largest exporting point for
pitch pine in the world.
Pensacola's imports were valued at about
a million and a half dollars, the most
valuable single commodity being ma-
hogany, in the importation of which Pen-
sacola is now the second port in the
United States. Other products imported
were fertilizers, sulphate ore, nitrate of
soda, copper ore and sisal grass.
Pensacola's harbor facilities are equal
dancia Street and the Muscogee wharves.
The first two of these are approximately
two thousand feet in length, and the last
one, used almost exclusively for coaling,
about 2,640 feet, a thousand feet being
in deep water. So excellent are the facili-
ties for loading and discharging cargoes
at these docks that as many as three large
vessels can be accommodated on either
side of each dock simultaneously, and
so deep is the water that it is said that
A CITY PARK IS A FEATURE IN EVERY FLORIDA TOWN
to those of any other Southern port, the
Louisville & Nashville Railroad having
expended between a million and a half
and two million dollars in the improve-
ment of its terminals at this point. ^ Most
of this money has been expended in the
great trunk line's comprehensive system
of modern docks, which in point of con-
struction and convenience are the equal
of any in the country and superior to those
of any port south of Norfolk. The Louis-
ville & Nashville has three main docks,
known as the Tarragona and Cornrnan-
any vessel in the United States can heave
anchor at any point along their entire
length.
In the development of Pensacola's
future maritime commerce — and for that
matter the maritime commerce of the
entire Gulf— nothing is so cardinally
essential at the present time as a graven
dock capable of accommodating the largest
vessels afloat. A graven dock for Pen-
sacola has been talked of for many years,
but still vessels needing repairs at any
point in the Gulf continue to proceed to
tiJ*
4V
Q
<J
o .
> s
SI
A
FLORIDA— LAND; OF ENCHANTMENT
81
Norfolk. True, Charleston has a large
dry dock, but it is about as much use to
the Navy and to commerce as a fifth
leg to a horse. The strategic impor-
tance of a graven dock at Pensacola was
realized as far back as 1859, when it was
advocated by the Navy Department as
a fundamental adjunct to the national
defense, and plans for its construction
were prepared. The Civil War inter-
fered with its building, however, and
those plans still lie neglected in the
department's files.
The Pensacola Navy Yard, too, needs
to be developed to the position its stra-
tegic importance demands. At present
it is anything but a first-class navy
yard. This is due in no way to the
management, however, but entirely to
the Government that has refused to
expend the money necessary to its
development. Since the war the South
never has had a fair share of the an-
nual appropriations for the National
defence. It is a known fact that the sinking
of the Maine had to be condoned for nearly
four months because there was not a single
round of ammunition for any gun mounted
south of Newport News.
Five years from now the Panama Canal
will be thrown open to the commerce of
the world, and the American Govern-
ment should see that — as a practical
means for its defence — the Pensacola
Naval yard be brought up to standard.
Such a navy yard would mean much to
Pensacola, which necessarily would de-
rive a large measure of prosperity from the
eighteen million odd dollars that would
A HEAD OF FLORIDA CELERY
be expended annually in wages to those
employed there.
Along the Gulf of Mexico there are a
number of other fine land-locked harbors
that are being commercially developed.
The largest of these is St. Joe, next to
Pensacola the finest natural harbor on the
Gulf.
A veil of romance and fiction clings to
old St. Joe, not the usual veil of sentiment
and tradition that is the common heritage
of almost every Southern town, but one
that reflects peculiarly the pristine great-
ness and progressiveness of the ante-
bellum South.
THE HOTEL PONCE DE LEON, ST. AUGUSTINE
82
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
ANASTASIA LIGHTHOUSE, ST. AUGUSTINE
Old St. Joe bears the unique distinction
of being the first town in the United States,
if not in the world, that owed its existence
to a railroad. This railroad, the second
in the United States, was constructed in
1836, running from the Harbor of St. Joe
to a point on the Apalachicola River,
some twenty miles away; this water-
way being at that time the great natu-
ral highway on which practically all the
cotton grown in Eastern Alabama and
Western Georgia was floated to the sea.
Another unique thing about St. Joe
was that it was a private enterprise
operated by a land company.
In its most prosperous, days St. Joe.
boasted of a bank, a weekly newspaper,
stores, churches, residences and schools,
and is said to have had at one time in
its career over five thousand people.
An idea of its importance may be
gained from the fact that the first
Florida constitution was framed within
its gates.
St. Joe's prosperity was short-lived.
Railroads were then only experiments,
and like practically all other early
railroads it did not prove the financial
success that its promoters had hoped,
and its one source of development
gone, the town entered on a prolonged
period of retrogression. The bank failed;
so did most of the stores, and many of its
chief citizens moved away, some of them
taking their houses with them. It is
said, indeed that there are no less than
WATER VIEW AT BEAUTIFUL MIAMI
THE SAN CARLOS HOTEL. PENSACOLA
Built by popular subscription, and one of the finest modern fireproof hotels in the South
fli
COURT OP THE ALCAZAR HOTEL. ST. AUGUSTINE
I
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
85
ON THE BEAUTIFUL NEW RIVER NEAR FORT LAUDERDALE
twenty-five residences in Apalachicola to-
day that once graced the streets of old
St. Joe.
Soon the exodus became general, and
from an important seaport town St.
Joe became a little fishing village, which
too, was destroyed in the struggle between
the States, and for nearly fifty years no
living soul claimed allegiance to old St.
Joe.
But St. Joe is destined to rise, Phoenix-
like, from its own ashes. A new rail-
road has been extended to its gates and
its magnificent harbor, for so long only
CITY PARK, LAKELAND
INTERIOR VIEW OF A TAMPA CIGAR FACTORY
Showing different stages of cigar manufacture
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
87
a convenient haven from the storm with-
out is to be brought into touch once more
with the commerce of the nation.
And there are many reasons why the new
St. Joe will not share the fate of its prede-
cessor. It will not have to depend, as
did the old town, upon one commodity
alone for its commercial upbuilding.
The Apalachicola Northern Railroad,
of which it is the terminus, penetrates in
its course from St. Joe to River Junction,
outlet for the huge commerce that must
be necessarily one day carried down this,
the third most important system of in-
land waterways in the United States.
St. Andrew's Bay is another fine harbor
on the Gulf that seems to have a con-
siderable commercial future. This harbor
is to be connected by water with the
Apalachicola River, the government hav-
ing already appropriated money to that
end. This road is the terminus of the
L .'! MAGNIFICENT DRIVEWAY ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF JACKSONVILLE
one of the finest bodies of pine timber to
be found in the South, which alone will
afford St. Joe no inconsiderable commerce
for many years to come. Only opened up
to development recently, there are now
twenty-one saw mills in the territory,
with a present daily output of approxi-
mately a million and a quarter feet. And
other large mills are building or con-
templated.
|* With a rail haul of only twenty miles
from the mouth of the Apalachicola
River system, Port St. Joe is the logical
Atlanta and St. Andrew's Bay Railroad,
and is to have another system shortly.
Apalachicola, one of Florida's oldest
towns, has long been a port of considerable
size, deriving her chief tonnage from the
Chattahoochee and other rivers which
converge with the Apalachicola at the
Florida line. This town has only had
railroad connection for three or four years,
and has consequently been very much
retarded.
Tampa and Port Tampa are both grow-
ing annually in importance. The con-
LOOKING UP PORSYTHE STREET, JACKSONVILLE, COMMERCIAL METROPOLIS OF FLORIDA
FLORIDA-LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
89
FINE GOLF LINKS ARE TO BE FOUND IN MANY SECTIONS OF FLORIDA
summation of the vast improvements con-
templated for Tampa by the Federal
Government and the recognized strategic
nearness of Tampa to the Canal guaran-
tee this growing city a great maritime
future. Tampa is the ninth port of entry
of the United States from a customs
receipts viewpoint, and has an annual
tonnage valued at approximately twenty-
five million dollars. As a manufactur-
ing center this city also occupies a very
important position. She is the largest
center for the manufacture of fine Havana
cigars in the world, more than twenty
thousand people being employed, and
some twelve million dollars being ex-
A FLOCK OF YOUNG PELICANS
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
91
pended in wages to expert cigarmakers
alone.
Port Tampa at the present time de-
rives practically all her tonnage from the
phosphate industry, being the largest
export point for this mineral. She has
splendid harbor facilities, and there is
every reason to believe that she will be-
come an important shipping point for
all classes of merchandise in the next
few years.
only now beginning to experience an in-
considerable development. Her wonder-
ful resources, however, are gradually
turning capital and immigration toward
her shores, and before very long she will
be enjoying a huge reciprocal trade with
this country. Key West also manufac-
tures a large number of cigars.
Jacksonville, the metropolis of Florida,
and the only Atlantic port of commercial
consequence in the state, is growing at
CORN GROWN NEAR TAFT
Key West, known as the Island City,
has also a future of great promise, although
it has had no railroad communication,
and being in a sense cut off almost entirely
from the outside world, this city has at-
tained a population of nearly thirty thou-
sand. How it will grow, with the com-
pletion of Mr. Flagler's wonderful feat,
the over-sea railroad from Knight's Key,
can be only predicted. Certain it is that
Key West will handle by far the greater
portion of the Cuban trade. Cuba is
a really marvelous rate. At the present
time, with an annual tonnage of over a
hundred million, she is by far the greatest
port of Florida from a trade standpoint.
And her growth is bound to be a sustained
one. As the gateway to Florida, she
must necessarily share in the development
of every portion of the main peninsula,
for it is almost impossible for traffic of
any kind to enter the state without passing
through her gates.
As a shipping port, Jacksonville is also
PEPPER GROWING NEAR ST. PETERSBURG, FLORIDA
FIVE-YEAR OLD FLORIDA GRAPEFRUIT TREE. TAKEN IN THE PINELLAS PENINSULA
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
93
being steadily developed. Congress has
spent millions of dollars in developing her
harbor facilities and in a short while,
with thirty-three feet at the bar, she will
be able to accommodate the largest ships.
The growth of Jacksonville since the
great fifteen million dollar fire of 1901,
which wiped out the entire business area
of the city, has been the barometer by
which the whole nation has judged the
progress of Florida.
Peninsula State. The palatial hotels of
the fashionable watering places along the
East Coast, the exclusive hotels in other
sections receive abundant patronage from
the wealthy classes, but a very large pro-
portion of the tourists this year were men
and women of moderate means who
patronized the smaller hotels and boarding-
houses. These tourists went by rail and
water, the Clyde Line alone carrying over
35,000 people to Jacksonville and Tampa.
ROYAL PALMS HOTEL, FORT MYERS
Florida as a winter resort needs no
introduction. In the last ten years ^ more
tourists have turned toward Florida in the
winter time than have ever turned toward
any other state. Twenty years ago,
Florida, to the tourist, was practically
an unknown quantity; today it has be-
come the recognized Mecca of anyone who
can afford to absent himself for any length
of time from the rigors of Northern and
Western climates. Last year more than
a hundred thousand people sought rest
and recuperation in the sunshine of the
St. Petersburg, which has become the
largest tourist point in Florida, had a
steady winter tourist population of more
than fifteen thousand, while such other
places as Pas a Grille, Tarpon Springs, Fort
Myers, Tampa, Pensacola, Orlando, Lake-
land and Miami also had their share.
As a winter resort Florida stands un-
challenged. Its climate is unsurpassed
by even the famous Island of Madeira,
the sun shining practically every day,
and severe cold weather being unknown.
Warm days there are, of course, but those
94
FLORIDA— LAND OF ENCHANTMENT
FIRST MODERN STEAMER LANDING AT PORT ST. JOE
days, tempered by cooling breezes from
ocean and gulf, are seldom, if ever, op-
pressive.
The opportunities for winter recrea-
tion are greater in Florida than elsewhere.
Florida's fishing grounds, both fresh and
salt water, are equal to any to be found
in the world. Her many good roads, con-
stantly being extended, offer excellent
opportunity for automobiling and driving,
while her numerous springs offer health
and life to those in search of .rest and re-
cuperation. As a winter tourist resort
Florida is in a class by herself . j
FIELD OF SOUP BEANS— A PROLIFIC AND PROFITABLE CROP FOR FLORIDA FARMERS
CONSERVATION- A MINNESOTA
SLOGAN
By LEROY BOUGHNER
'"TO use, instead of hoarding or spend-
* ing — that is the conservation of
Minnesota, as it must be of the nation.
Promulgated in Washington, and first
given clarity of outline at the Congress of
Governors, the conservation idea was
seized upon at once by Minnesota and
made her own. Her governor, Adolph O.
Eberhart, returned from that congress,
and immediately summoned to him the
public men of the state — not officials
alone, but all who made the state's prog-
ress their business.
The conservation idea was carefully
considered, with the view of giving it
concrete form and introducing it to all
the people at the earliest moment. These
men added a word to the slogan, and made
it "Conservation and Development"; con-
*voked a congress of four thousand leaders
of the state, and drove home, by word
of mouth and pen, the idea they had
appropriated.
From Minnesota the conservation idea
has been given back to the nation, enlarged
and enriched. In Minnesota it has pene-
trated every avenue of endeavor, and
conservation of the home, of the farm, of
the child, are as familiar as conservation
of the water, of the land, of the forests
are elsewhere. "Everything is for our use;
let us use it," is the expression conserva-
tion personified would use — and that ex-
pression is being carried to the uttermost
ends of the country.
The conservation of Minnesota does
not consist in holding the lands and the
forests and the streams sacred and in-
violate, lest they be destroyed. It con-
sists in releasing them to the development
that will make them useful, guarding just
as jealously against waste as against
non-use. The honest homesteader, the
upright lumberman, the corporation of
integrity is welcome in Minnesota; nay,
Minnesota seeks; "Conservation is [essen-
tial to, but it need not start from the wild
lands and forests and streams," is one of
the axioms of Minnesota's idea. To con-
serve the lands now under cultivation,
retain the woods near the farms now being
tilled, and keep the lakes and streams in
their ancient condition, is an essential
part of it. "Help us to teach the farmers
to produce twice as much per acre, and
keep the children at home," was Governor
Eberhart's Macedonian cry to the adver-
tising men at Omaha, and in Minnesota
every public-spirited citizen has rallied
to that cry. Half a hundred experimental
farms, to mention but one instance, have
been planted throughout the state this
year, to show the farmers that their corn
production can be doubled — and they are
being shown. The doubtful experiment
of taking the children from the farms to
teach them farming is being supplemented
by sending the farm school into the midst
of the farmers. Swamps are being drained,
woods along railroad tracks guarded
against sparks, little lakes dredged, and
streams straightened — all to improve the
lot of the man already upon the land.
This is half the conservation idea in
Minnesota, and the other half — to develop
and use the wild resources of the state —
is receiving exactly the same attention.
An immigration bureau, that will have a
hundred thousand dollars to spend next
year, is one of the marks of this attention.
Small conservation congresses, held at
intervals of a month or so throughout the
state, are other marks. And the great
Conservation Congress, held in the Twin
Citys in September, is the culminating
tribute of the nation to the soundness of
Minnesota's idea. The President, the
ex-President, the Governor, and other
governors, the great Archbishop, and other
prelates, the President of the University,
and other educators, and men and women
from all parts of the country and in all
walks of life, gathered to assist out of
their wisdom a great nation to use in-
(95)
06 THEIR LAST VICTORY
stead of wasting, is indeed a mighty tribute the opportunity, but Eberhart, of all the
to this state's idea. governors, alone seized it. Young and
Succeeding to the governorship upon energetic, he typifies the state he repre
the death of John A. Johnson, Eberhart's sents, and more than all, he typifies the
chance came within a month. The Con- idea he has recreated — the Minnesota
gress of Governors gave all who attended Idea — Conservation and Development.
THEIR LAST VICTORY
By HENRY YOUNG OSTRANDER, M.D.
At midnight out on Malvern Hills,
Where the Southern stars look down
A calm, grand, lonely glory fills
The heart's blood-hallow'd ground.
How silent there that slumbering band —
So peacefully still they sleep;
The flowers above them understand,
And the winds blow soft and sweet.
More happy now than we ever deemed —
Far lovelier and more fair —
From death to waken as from a dream
In God's Morning, over There !
Where once welled carnage, crimson grume,
'Mid battle's grime and stains,
The Olive branch and Lily bloom,
And Peace Eternal reigns!
At midnight out on Malvern Hills,
Through dark they wait the Dawn;
While Calvary's Cry of Triumph thrills
Life's Resurrection Song!
The GREAT COUP
_ By FIUNKE-CHANNON
t^ ^^
Illustrated Qy ARTHUR HUTCHfNS *
( Continued from October number )
I WAS perfectly conscious by this
time, but very anxious to learn
what had become of Ward, since
I judged by their conversation
they had succeeded in capturing him. I
turned over the events of the last few
hours in my mind. Of course, that letter
from Ward was a forgery, and while I
was reading it they managed to over-
power me with some drug. But how did
they get me away from the hotel? It
was a curious thing that the reception
room was empty; at almost any time one
would usually find people there, and, and,
what was that girl with the violet eyes
doing there in company with those cads?
Lady DeArcey! Lady Brown, Lady Jones
— what's in a name? Where was Allison?
Where was Dangerfield? These men were
strangers to me — some of the gang, though,
—I knew that. But where, where was
Ward?
"Now you iss vaked up; can you valk?"
inquired the man addressed as Leon.
"I could walk better if you took these
things off my legs," I answered, still
simulating drowsiness, as I made a careful
survey of my custodians. There were
three of them. The fellow who spoke
with the German accent was a short,
powerfully-built man. He was the one
they called Leon. The other two were
evidently English or American — tall and
muscular.
"Veil, iss you pleased?" sarcastically
enquired Leon, who had been following
my inspection with some interest. "You
like us? Ve iss fine men — very fine, eh,
vot?"
"Where is Mr. Allison?" I asked, ig-
noring his remark.
The eyes of the German twinkled with
(97
grim humor. "Dare iss no names must be
spoke; ve are all nemoes here, eh, vot?
Number von 'vill like to see you now;
he vaits for you."
"Say, boss," one of the other men spoke
up, and his speech left no doubt of his
nationality, "names don't go here, see.
You've got a trip before you, so you better
get up and pack your grip; you'll find your
mate waiting for you."
"And take my tip," advised the third
man, "and make no trouble what —
"Ach, be quiteness; I vill attend to dis
gentleman," interposed the German. "Fol-
low me, most kindly."
I struggled to my feet and began to
shuffle after him as well as my fetters
would permit. My head swam with dizzi-
ness, and I reeled. One of the fellows
slipped his arm into mine and assisted
me toward the door. A light was burning
in the room. I supposed it to be still
night, for certainly I could not have been
under the influence of the drug very long —
an hour or so at the most.
We passed out of the apartment and
along a dim corridor. Leon led the way,
and a guard attended me on either side.
We stopped at a door fifteen feet along,
and the German knocked.
"Entrez vous!" cried a shrill voice.
The door was flung wide, and we en-
tered a brilliantly-lighted apartment. I
saw Allison at once. He came toward
me with the same bland smile on his face.
"Mr. Brice," he greeted cordially, as he
extended his hand. I ignored it, but the
smile never left his features.
"Oh, I trust there is no ill feeling," he
purred, as he waved his hand to dismiss
the guard, "believe me, what has occurred
has been most necessary— you can re-
98
THE GREAT COUP
main, Leon" — this to the German, who
seated himself heavily on a chair, and
drawing from his pocket an immense
pipe, proceeded to leisurely fill it. There
were three or four other men in the room,
and I felt myself the focus of all eyes.
So far I had not opened my mouth. There
was nothing to be gained by speaking; it
was for them to lead.
"Pray be seated," politely suggested
Allison, pushing forward a chair. "I
regret that we deem it necessary for you
to wear these little ornaments for the
present, but I trust they may soon be
removed."
I sat down. Truth to tell, I was glad
to. I felt weak and still dizzy.
"Monsieur," said the man whose shrill
voice had invited us to enter, "we have a
business proposition to place before you,
and it will admit of no delay."
The speaker was evidently the man of
authority, for I noted that all listened
attentively as he spoke; even Allison's
smiling face became serious.
, "I will be as direct as possible," pro-
ceeded the speaker, and the cruel lines
around his mouth deepened, as his thin
lips formed the words. "You are, I be-
lieve, aware of certain plans formed by
us, and this knowledge makes it neces-
sary that we should hold you. Your
companion, Hugh Ward-Willet, is also in
custody for the same reason. I tell you
frankly, it would have been easier for us
to have got rid of you both by other means
than capturing you, but certain events,
recently happened, have so altered matters
that it would now seem you may possibly
be of use to us — both you and your com-
panion. We therefore hold you both."
"Where is my friend — where is Mr.
Willet?" I demanded.
"At present that does not concern you.
You are, I am sure, man of the world
enough to observe that we hold the whip
hand at present." He paused a moment,
then added: "You are in our power."
He spoke the sentence slowly, deliber-
ately, with a world of meaning behind the
words. In spite of an effort, I almost
shuddered. He had the most cruel-looking
face I have ever seen on mortal man. I
pulled myself together. "Go on," I said.
"You were at one time in the navy of
the United States. Less than two years
ago you were a lieutenant in that service.
Your specialty was ordinance, and for
one so young you were accounted un-
usually proficient. I find that as gun-
lieutenant of the after pair of twelve-inch
pieces on the -'President Grant,' you are
accredited with eleven hits out of twelve
at a range of seven thousand yards, when
your vessel was moving at a rate of twelve
knots per hour. You also were in charge
of the mounting of these heavy guns at
the time of the outfitting of your vessel."
He again paused a moment, and then
added: "You are a man we can use, and
we shall use you."
I admit I was staggered. The man had
my record down as pat as the Department
at Washington. "Go on/' I said again.
"Be silent, sir," he commanded. "I
will resume when I think proper."
I was fast losing my temper. The man's
overbearing manner and speech did not
suit my hot Virginian temperament. I
was feeling considerably better, too, by
this time. The effects of the drug had
completely left me, and if it had not been
for those confounded leg-irons, I believe
I would have waded in there and then and
rough-housed it. I steadied myself with
an effort, and said firmly, but politely:
"Then kindly cut your speech as short as
possible. Say what you have to; make
your proposition, and you'll get my an-
swer."
For the first time, something like a smile
played about his thin lips. He crowded
it out instantly, as he arose and remarked
in a bored manner: "There is no proposi-
tion; you will be removed to the place
we have decided for you — Number one,
see that the prisoner is conveyed to A. I.
immediately."
He waved his hand to show I was dis-
missed. Allison arose and stood waiting
at my side, while the German started to-
ward the door.
"You will be so good as to follow me,"
invited Allison.
I was laboring under a considerable
strain to prevent myself from breaking
out, but I realized the futility of any re-
sistance, so without a word, I arose and
following Allison, shuffled out of the room.
"If you do as you are told and make
THE GREAT COUP
99
no resistance, no harm will come to you,"
the man muttered in an undertone, as
we again entered the room I had so lately
quit.
"You are a nice fellow," I growled.
"I believe I have you to thank for this
outrage."
"My dear sir," he remonstrated, "you
have merely joined the society of the Lion
and Eagle; you will recollect I mentioned
it to you in the Park that evening."
"Where is Mr. Willet?" I asked, de-
termined if possible to find out what had
become of him.
"I regret that I am unable to say at
present, but rest assured you and he will
meet soon, and now I must prepare you
for this little journey — Leon, send in
seven and eight!"
CHAPTER VII
AN ENFORCED TRIP
"You will submit to be blindfolded,"
suggested Allison — number one, as he was
known amongst the men with whom I
now found myself.
"Go ahead," I muttered, "the cards
seem in your hand at present."
Next moment' a bandage was drawn
across my eyes. There was a few moments'
delay; then someone said: "Tres bien,"
and I heard Allison saying: "This way,
my dear sir." My hands were locked
behind my back, and with someone on
either side, I was urged away.
I counted my steps — eighteen along,
and when a voice advised: "Step down,"
and I commenced descending some stairs.
I counted eight. Then came a landing,
I suppose a* turn, and then eleven more
steps. Seven paces on the level and I
heard a door being softly opened.
"We shall spare you the trouble of walk-
ing any longer," softly whispered Allison,
and as he spoke someone thrust a gag
into my mouth, then I was lifted up and
borne swiftly and silently along for a full
minute, then deposited gently on some
soft cushions. I heard a crank being
turned, and then the "chunk, chunk,"
of a motor, and I was speeding through
the night. It was still night, for I dis-
tinctly caught a flash of light here and
there — probably from some street lamp —
a.s we sped past. You may readily be-
lieve that my ears were keenly alert to
catch the slightest information that would
be of use to me. Not a word, however,
was spoken. I judged there to be three
people besides myself in the motor. Alli-
son was there, I was sure, and I fancied
I detected the movement of two others
climbing in before we started. It was a
closed touring car, I presumed, since I
felt little or no wind, although I knew by
the motion that we were speeding at a
good rate.
Very shortly after starting the gag was
removed, and then my hands were un-
fastened, but immediately secured again
in front. I Was thankful, however, for
this, for my position had become most
uncomfortable.
Knowing well that I should gain nothing
by speech, I refrained from asking ques-
tions. None of my companions spoke,
and only the noise of the motor broke the
silence. We were in the country now;
I was tolerably certain of that by the
motion of the tonneau. Once I was sure
we passed through some town or city,
for the street lights again shone in under
the bandage that blinded my eyes.
An hour passed; two; and then again
I knew we were on macadamized streets.
I knew, too, the name of the city; I could
have sworn to it. The salt breeze of the
ocean was wafted in through the window.
My companions were speaking now, but
always in German, and I, alas, am unable
to understand that tongue.
It occurred to me at this time that it
would be a good idea to see for certain
where I was. I knew that in a few more
minutes I should be on the water — best
make certain of my starting point.
I suddenly raised my fettered wrists
and tore away the bandage from my eyes.
My prolonged apparent acceptance of
my fate had lulled my escort into a false
sleep of security, and for a full ten seconds
I had an uninterrupted view out through
the window. Then, with a snarl of anger,
a man on either side of me hurled them-
selves upon me and forced back the cloth,
but that ten seconds had told me my con-
clusions were correct. I had caught a
vision of a forest of masts; of huge smoke
stacks, a waterfront with men hurrying
along it— and IT WAS DAYLIGHT!
100
THE GREAT COUP
It Was Daylight?
That was the real surprise I received. The
rest I had almost known. We were at
Gravesend !
"My young rooster, if you play tricks
like that again it may go hard with you,"
threatened a voice at my side, and I felt
the cold muzzle of a revolver pressed
against my forehead.
"Best fasten his hands behind him
again," advised a second voice, and then
I heard Allison's soft, purring tones from
the seat in front: "Mr. Brice, I am really
surprised. After our handsome treatment
of you, you reward us in this uncalled
for manner; now it will be necessary to
again make things uncomfortable for
you."
"Oh, go to the devil!" I snarled. Some-
how the fellow's urbane voice annoyed
me more than all the rough treatment
I had received.
"Most unparliamentary," he murmured.
"Rather guess there'll be a little taming
done here," drawled the voice on my left.
This seemed to be a cosmopolitan crew
with which I was flung: "Russ, German,
English, Half breed, Finn, Yank, Dane,
and Portugee."
I was turning over in my mind how
these fellows would get me aboard. It
was daylight; there would be plenty of
people abroad, and they must remove me
without seeming resistance from the motor
to the craft. How were they going to do it?
I was not left long in doubt. There
was a whispered conference between my
guard, and then came Allison's polite
tones again:
"Now, Mr. Brice, we shall again save
you the trouble of walking," and then I
found myself being secured to some sort
of an upright — a litter or plank — I was
THE GREAT COUP
101
unable to determine which. A cloth was
flung over me, and then in a few moments
the car came to a halt. I was aware of
my escort alighting — probably taking a
look around to see that the coast was clear.
Evidently it did not suit them yet, for
there was another short delay, and then
someone announced: "All right."
I was hoisted up quickly and carried
out from the conveyance.
But a few steps, and I knew I was going
over the gangplank. I was aboard! My
last chance seemed gone! I was kid-
napped! Down the companionway I
was hurried, and I was below decks. I
knew it all; I felt every short stage of
the rush, although I could neither see nor
speak. When it comes to the sea, the men
who go c"own to it, and the craft that sail
it, I am in my element.
I was in a stateroom aft on the ma'in
deck. I knew that by the turn I felt them
making and the number of steps they
carried me down. Oh, for one moment's
freedom during that short rush. Every
muscle, every nerve in me was timed and
ready, but I could not move a limb. If
I could only have wrenched that con-
founded gag from my mouth, if I wouldn't
have made the vicinity ring with a shout
that would have raised old Davy Jones.
They were getting up steam; we were
on the eve of casting off. I could hear the
orders from the deck, the trampling of
feet, the coiling of rope and tackle. The
gangway was run in ; the screws commenced
to revolve — triple screws. They used
the centre one first — her engines were
reciprocating. Then as we cleared and
gathered headway the port and star-
board propeller commenced to run with
the smooth, even action of the turbine.
They were losing no time. She was, as
I thought, built for speed. Even in the
predicament in which I was placed, I
discovered myself taking a keen interest
in the boat. They must have a fine
artificer force in the engine room; every-
thing was running with the smoothness
of a well-broken in engine-room force; this
was not their trial trip by a long way. How
smartly she answered her helm. I almost
longed to get on the bridge and see her
show her heels. She was long — aye, she
was beamy, too — I could swear to that.
She smelt of Scotch yards to me. I was
left to myself now; not a soul was in the
stateroom, or if they were, they made no
sign. Then I turned savagely on myself.
What was I speculating and surmising
about this flyer for? I would soon see
her. Better make up my mind as to my
line of action. Where was Ward? Aboard,
undoubtedly. How had they trapped
him? Ward, so crafty and cunning him-
self, how had they lured him into their
clutches? There must be some smart
men in this society of the "Lion and Eagle."
Yes, I could understand why they wanted
me, but Ward, what did they want with
him? Had they got him? I had only their
word for it. Perhaps they were lying.
Yet, why should they lie? No, they either
had him, or he was dead. He knew too
much to be out of their clutches. Of
course, he would come in useful if their
scheme went well. He was a lawyer — yes,
they had reminded me of that. Yes, they
had him; I knew why they wanted him
now. They intended to —
My thoughts were suddenly disturbed
by hearing the door of .the stateroom
opened. I heard a rustle of skirts; a very
faint perfume was wafted toward me,
and then a woman's voice — a soft, musical
voice — a voice I had heard before — a voice
I knew said authoritatively:
"There is certainly no reason for keep-
ing him in this uncomfortable position
any longer. Unbind him and take out
that gag."
"It was orders, Madamaselle," objected
a man's gruff tones.
"Eighteen, do as I say," peremptorily
ordered the soft voice. "In the absence
of Number Two, you will take my com-
mands."
"Oui, Madamaselle."
A key was fitted to my fetters; they
were removed, and I stretched myself.
I did not wait for them to take off the
bandage and gag, but snatched them away
with a single movement. Then I sprang
up, and stood looking into the face of
my lady with the violet eyes.
CHAPTER VIII
MY LADY OF THE VIOLET EYES
She was garbed in white yachting suit
and cap, and seemed to be rather enjoying
102
THE GREAT COUP
my very evident astonishment. For a
full fifteen seconds we two stood facing
each other, and neither spoke a word.
She remained with her back to the open
door, and I eyed her from the end of the
couch from which I had sprang. In the
corridor outside I could hear hurrying feet.
She spoke first. I was determined she
should. With the prettiest of smiles — a
smile that showed the even whiteness of
her teeth — she held out her ungloved
hand, in unassumed frankness.
"Mr. Brice," she greeted, just as if she
had met me in the Strand. "We appear
fated to cross one another; this is the third
time this week, isn't it?"
"I can assure you, madam," I retorted,
"that the crossing is none of my seeking.
The first time, when I was so unfortunate
as to stumble against you, I believed you
to be a lady; since then I have been unde-
ceived. You will pardon my rudeness,
but you can scarcely expect me to be polite
after the treatment I have received, and
I am forced to believe after seeing you
twice in the company of these villains,
that you are a party to their schemes,
though what a woman should want to
mix up with these skunks for is more
than I can tell." I was hot, and I sent
in hot shot. Apparently my outburst
neither angered nor annoyed her, nor did
she shrink from it. She stood watching
me, the smile still lingering about her
features, one elegantly-shod foot tapping
the carpet, waiting for me to finish. When
I stopped, she said:
"Now really, Mr. Brice, I think that is
not a bit nice of you, when you consider
that but for my interference you would
still be lying there in that uncomfortable
position; but then, man is ever ungrateful,
isn't he?"
"Really, madam, I am in no mood for
pleasantry. Yet I will thank you for
prevailing upon the powers that be to
release me, and for one thing more will
I yet be thankful to you — that is if you
will inform me where my friend Mr. Willet
is — is he aboard?"
"He is, sir; you shall very shortly see
and speak with him."
"Thank you."
"That is the first civil word you have
spoken to me."
"It may very easily be the last, madam.
There is no use beating about the bush;
you and I are on opposite sides; your
people apparently intend to give no
quarter, and neither Mr. Willet nor I
are men to ask it."
"You are terribly tragic, are you not,
Mr. Brice? My father and I were both
looking forward with pleasure to this
little trip, and I was hoping you would
be sensible, and enjoy yourself with us."
"Your father! Pray who is your father
—Mr. Allison?"
She laughed gaily. "Oh, dear, no. Have
you forgotten my name already? I am
Lady DeArcey, and my father is the Count
of that name. You have met him, and
the name is still remembered in our own
country, even though France has forgotten
her duty."
"In God's name, madam, who is your
father, then — the tall, thin man before
whom I was brought, and who condemned
me to this trip?"
"Yes, my father is tall and thin; he has
even been called distinguished-looking.
In the society in which you now find your-
self he is known as 'The Chief; Mr. Allison
is his second in command; he is known as
Number One. We are terribly mysterious
here, you see."
"I surmise there is need for both mys-
tery and deception, madam."
"Mr. Brice, we are fighting a powerful
enemy, and must use the best weapons
we possess."
"You appear to have grabbed up a fine
collection, but tell me, my lady, why is
it that your father and you both bear
titles, and yet I find you in this company?
Surely that is illogical, and you speak of
France forgetting her duty — surely you
would not again wish her a monarchy?"
"Of course not, Mr. Brice. My mean-
ing was that she has forgotten her duty
as a Republic — she is that in name only,
and, of course, our titles are by courtesy
only; there are no nobles in poor France
now — only in name. Pray call me Miss
DeArcey in future; I am sure I have no
desire to be 'my ladied.' '
I could see my words had hurt her.
Her face was flushed and her violet eyes
snapped with suppressed annoyance. I
had told her she was no lady, and she
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103
laughed at me. I twitted her regarding
her title, and she was visibly angered.
What had la belle France done to my
lady?
We were interrupted by steps outside,
and a moment later Allison's smiling face
appeared at the door, and behind him
towered the form of the tall, thin man —
"The Chief"— my lady's father.
"Ah, I see you are already commencing
to feel at home," greeted Allison. "I
told the Chief my lady would see that
our guests lacked for nothing — you will
find Mr. Brice a most entertaining gentle-
man, my lady — ah, and here is his most
particular friend, Mr. Willet."
As he concluded, Ward, clean cut, and
looking as faultless as ever, strolled into
the room. He nodded in everyday fashion
to me, as he muttered: "Do."
I really believe Ward would say "Do"
if he met you in the bliss of Heaven or
the torture of Hades. It is his way of
enquiring "How are you, my dear fellow?
I hope you are feeling fine; I'm delighted
to see you."
"How do?" I responded, and then the
"Chief's" cutting voice rasped: "Bon
jour, monsieur. Comment vous portez
vous?" he added a moment later.
"Mercie, Monsieur le Count, je suis
tres bien," I responded, mentally adding
to myself, "No thanks to you or your
gang, though."
He started and stared at his daughter,
as the title slipped from my tongue. "Ma
fille, you have been talking again," he
accused, still speaking in the French
language.
Then, turning again toward me, he said:
"Monsieur, to you and all aboard this
vessel I am 'The Chief.' You will in
future address me as that."
I shrugged my shoulders. "What's in
a name?" I rejoined.
"Everything," he snapped tartly.
"Vous parlez Francais," cried the lady,
with evident pleasure.
"It is my only lingual accomplishment,"
I replied.
"I am so glad," she cried. "One can
express oneself so much better in that
tongue."
"Enough, Mademoiselle; you will leave
us now; I have business to discuss with
Mr. Brice," ordered the Count, sternly.
"Mr. Willet, kindly be seated."
"Au revoir!" cried my lady gaily, as
she tripped away. "Make haste, mon
pere; it is dull here, and I wish com-
panions."
"She is but a child," muttered the
Count, half explanatory, as he closed the
door and seated himself upon the couch.
"Now, messieurs, to business!"
I was endeavouring to catch Ward's
eye during this conversation, but his face
was expressionless— oh, Ward was truly
British now, I can tell you.
"Monsieur Willet, be so kind as to ex-
plain to your' friend the use I anticipate
his being to me," requested the Count.
"Monsieur, be so kind as to do it your-
self," snarled Ward between his teeth.
"I might possibly misrepresent it, you
know," he added, with grim British humor.
There was a silent conflict of personali-
ties for a brief moment, but the best man
won — Ward remained silent, and the Count
was forced to take up the thread.
"So be it," he acquiesced, "but you gain
nothing by the line of conduct you are
taking," he advised, giving Ward a sinister
glance. Then, addressing me: "Monsieur,
it is now nine a. m. Tuesday, July 17th.
At midnight at a point about Long. 78,
Lat. 54 my vessel will be hove to. The
night will be dark; the sea will be smooth;
the—"
For the life of me, I couldn't help burst-
ing out into a loud guffaw. "Monsieur,"
I roared, "I grant that the night may be
dark, but let no man prophesy what man-
ner of sea may be on — recollect that you
are in the German Ocean, where the wind
veers as frequently as a woman's love."
"Be silent, sir," he ordered, evidently
nettled by my mirth.
"Then make no more foolish state-
ments," I retorted.
The lines tightened around his mouth,
and his steely-blue eyes seemed to fairly
eat me up, as he turned away from me,
and addressing Allison, said crisply:
"This man must be gagged if he persists
in interrupting me."
"Oh, go ahead," I said, magnanimously,
"I'll hear you out."
"It would be as well," he hissed threat-
eningly.
104
THE GREAT COUP
CHAPTER IX
• .;.'
THE CRISIS
"As. I stated, at midnight 'my vessel will
be hove to."
"At eight bells in the first watch," I
suggested.
"Exactly. Now follow me."
He wheeled about abruptly, and left
the room. I slipped my arm into Ward's
as I said: "Come along, old fellow, -let
us see what the Count wishes to show us."
Together we followed him along the
corridor, up the main companion way and
onto the upper deck. I glanced around
as I Walked. It was an elegantly appointed
craft. ' Mahogany, plate glass mirrors and
polished metals were everywhere. Two
white-clad seamen passed us as we gained
the deck, saluting smartly, like men-o'-
war's men. Their appearance pleased
me. I was taking a keen interest in all
around; I had almost, in fact, forgotten
the circumstances under which I was
placed.
Away off to port I could plainly 'see the
low-lying -coast of Essex. The water be-
tween us and the land was clear.- To star-
board three or four 'sails were ' in sight.
She was steaming evenly, getting through
the short, choppy waves without fuss or
show, but slipping along at an easy eighteeii
knots, I should judge.
"This way, Mr. Brice, if you please,"
suggested Allison, as I leisurely took in
my surroundings.
"What do you think of her, Ward?"
I inquired, as I followed the Count and
his second along the port side.
My companion smiled and nodded. He
was silent, as usual, and probably doing
some tall thinking. As we passed the
deckhouses, and came out on the open
bow space, I was astonished to note a
great armored barbette, without either
guns or turrets protruding from the for-
,ward deck. It had evidently just been
[uncovered, for the tarpaulins lay stretched
fabout, and a working party were stowing
'them. Like -a flash I understood why I
was needed, and I probably had that need
to thank for my life.
The Count was by my side now. With
one long,- bony finger he pointed toward
the barbettes.
-"As I was remarking, Mr. Brice, at
midnight this vessel will be hove to. An-
other ship will be alongside. She will
carry a pair of fifty calibre twelve-inch
guns, and it will be your duty to see that
they are removed and properly mounted
oh this support. Your \life will answer
for it if anything goes wrong. You under-
stand?"
He clipped his words off in an unpleas-
antly ; suggestive manner, then waved
his hand I cwward, to indicate I was at
liberty to examine the support for the
guns. Without a word, "I stepped forward
and scrambled up the barbette. It arose
perhaps a matter of five feet from the
deck. I I bent an interested gaze upon it.
Forward and to port and starboard it was
armored with nine- inches of Krupp. Its
massive walls descended into the interior.
An ammunition hoist, protected by a hood
and armored walls came conveniently
up in the rear. The whole mechanism
was on an immense turntable. Evidently,
there was to be no turret — the breeches —
in fact, the gunners themselves would be
exposed to the fire of an enemy, but the
gun positions were so 'high that a splendid
all-roun'd fire could be obtained, barring
aft. I was still intent on my examination,
when I heard the Count's voice again in
querulous tones: "Well?" he interrogated,
"what do you think of the homes for
'Whip' and 'Lash'? "
"A very nice mount," I replied, "but
I would like to go below decks and take
a look at the hoifets and mechanism." I
was honestly interested, and in any case,
no harm could come of being posted.
Without a word, he again led the way
down, and in a few minutes I was busily
at work inspecting the hydraulic and hand-
turning machinery. Everything appeared
to be in good working order, and I had
no criticism to make except in regard to
the ammunition hoists, which were per-
fectly straight, without trap or other
safeguard. I would dislike to be behind
those guns in a close-fought action, when
speed of delivery was requisite, and the
gun crew were -getting in fast work. I
said not a word, however, but made my
way again on deck, followed by the Count,
Allison and Ward. -I had noted that the
ship was unusually high by the head;
THE GREAT COUP
105
evidently left so that the heavy twelve-
inch guns might not depress her too much.
"I will tell you frankly, Mr. Brice,"
resumed the Count, "that it was not my
intention to rely on a stranger for this
important work, but the man on whom .
we depended met with an accident two
days ago, and I really have no one to whom
I could trust this getting aboard of the
monster guns. Necessity makes the man,
you see, and I am sure we are fortunate
in acquiring an ex-naval officer of the
United States — especially one so renowned
as yourself." He bowed, gravely, as he
offered me the compliment.
"And who, sir," I demanded, looking
him squarely in the eyes, "has been good
enough to vouch that I will undertake this
important duty?"
"It is a matter on which you will not
be consulted. You will do it, and do it
SUCCESSFULLY, OR YOUR LIFE
WILL PAY THE PENALTY FOR
FAILURE. The same remark applies
to your companion here; he will, when the
time arrives for him to be of service, either
do what we require, or — He snapped
his fingers, and the action was most sug-
gestive; it reminded one of the snuffing
out of a candle.
I think I deserve no great credit for
the words that formed on my tongue —
words that almost passed my lips — words
that would have done so, had I not hap-
pened at that exact moment to glance
at Ward. Any man would have done as
I proposed to have done, any true man, at
least. But those words were never uttered.
I think Ward by sheer force of will com-
pelled me to look at him. I will never
again say that the British face is not ex-
pressive; I had always thought Ward in-
capable of feeling, or at least of showing
it, but if ever a man's features spoke, his
did then. "You seven different kinds of
an idiot," his eyes blazed, "agree to any-
thing he wants now," and then a sharp
contraction of his left eye plainly winked,
"Wait."
I turned toward the Count. "Have you
all the tackle required for this under-
taking?" I inquired.
"Yes, sir," he assured sharply, "we
have the heaviest and strongest machinery,
the same tackle, as you call it, as used in
George's navy; you will have no fault to
find with that. You can commence any
time you desire to make the necessary
arrangements. Number One will give
you a list of what the 'Assist' will bring
us. As I mentioned to you before, sir,
she meets the 'Revenge' at midnight. I
would suggest that you obtain some sleep
between now and then, for, as I under-
stand it, it will take at least twelve hours'
arduous work before all is completed."
"I will get that rest now," I said, "and
examine the tackle later. I have your
permission to retire to my stateroom?"
"Most certainly, sir, but one thing I
have to say to you before you go. It is
this. I have not required you to give me '
your word that you will undertake this
position, because it is not a matter in
which you have any choice, and an oath
given under such circumstances amounts
to but little. From now on, however, you
will be attended — guarded, if you prefer
the word, by two men — both good com-
rades of mine — men who thoroughly
understand the work you will do, and they
have orders to this effect: that if in their
opinion you are playing us false, if your
actions even give rise to suspicion they are
to shoot you down like a dog; you under-
stand, I am sure, Mr. Brice."
"That is scarcely fair," I remonstrated.
"I may be about something that is ab-
solutely necessary, yet something these
men may not understand, and my action
may, in their opinion, give them the right
to shoot. I say that if they become sus-
picious they should take me to you, and
there let me make answer."
"Not at all— not at all!" he snapped,
walking away. Then halting and turning
for a moment, he cried back: "You will
not be shot down unless you deserve it,
but rest perfectly assured that they will
fire without any consultation with me
or anyone else; such are their orders, so
be careful, Mr. Brice — very careful — for
the sake of your own skin, sir."
Ward and I wheeled about and started
for the companionway, when we were
aware of four armed men in close atten-
dance.
"Each one to his own room, if you please,
and no conversation," politely murmured
Allison.
( To be continued )
of
JOE M. CHAPPLE, Esq.,
Dear Sir: In your very interesting collection of "Heart Throbs," I find on pages
255-257, a version of that very beautiful poem, "There is no Death," which you have
attributed to Bulwer Lytton, as it is generally.
Some years ago, finding the poem so variously given, I turned to Bulwer's volume
of poems, to see how he had written it. But, after a diligent search, I failed to find
it there, which seemed to me strange.
Not long after my brother, writing to a friend in St. Paul, quoted some of these
stanzas of "Bulwer's"; in his reply the friend wrote:
"The poem 'There is no Death,' is wrongly attributed to Bulwer. The author
is J. L. McCreery, who wrote it when a student at college, and who is still living or
was not long ago. The poem, as it appears in the author's writings, contains sixteen
stanzas, only four of which are identical with those as commonly quoted."
I send you a copy of his version of it, which 1 think you will find much more
beautiful even than the version in your "Heart Throbs." Though perhaps, even
this version may not be quite correct.
But it seems to me, and this is why I write you, that if Mr. McCreery be the
author, if he has given to the world a poem that touches the heart of everyone who
has suffered, certainly he should be credited with it. Could you not help him to
his own? Yours very truly, TAYLOR HATFIELD.
There is no death! the stars go down
To rise upon some other shore,
And bright in Heaven's jeweled crown
They shine forevermore.
There is no death! the forest leaves
Convert to life the viewless air;
The rocks disorganize to feed
The hungry moss they bear..
There is no death! the dust we tread
Shall change beneath the summer
showers
To golden grain, or mellow fruit,
Or rainbow-tinted flowers.
There is no death! the leaves may fall,
The flowers may fade and pass away —
They only wait, through wintry hours,
The warm, sweet breath of May.
There is no death! the choicest gifts
That heaven hath kindly lent to earth,
Are ever first to seek again
The country of their birth.
And all things that for growth or joy
Are worthy of our love or care,
Whose loss has left us desolate,
Are safely garnered there.
Though life become a dreary waste,
We know its fairest, sweetest flowers,
Transplanted into Paradise,
Adorn immortal bowers.
The voice of birdlike melody
That we have missed and mourned so
long.
Now mingles with the angel choir
In everlasting song.
There is no death! although we grieve
When beautiful, familiar forms
That we have learned to love are torn
From our embracing arms —
Although with bowed and breaking heart,
With sable garb and silent tread,
We bear their senseless dust to rest,
And say that they are "dead" —
They are not dead! they have but passed
Beyond the mists that blind us here
Into the new and larger life
Of that serener sphere.
They have but dropped their robe of clay
To put their shining raiment on;
They have but wandered far away —
They are not "lost" nor "gone."
Though disenthralled and glorified,
They still are here, and love us yet;
The dear ones they have left behind
They never can forget.
And sometimes, when our hearts grow
faint
Amid temptations fierce and deep,
Or when the wildly raging waves
Of grief or passion sweep,
We feel upon our fevered brow
Their gentle touch, their breath of
balm;
Their arms enfold us, and our hearts
Grow comforted and calm.
And ever near us, though unseen.
The dear, immortal spirits tread —
For all the boundless universe
Is Life — there are no dead!
Jftot &tb to tfje Sttjureb
By H. H. HARTUNG, M. D.
Boston, Mass.
Major Surgeon, Medical Department, Coast Artillery Corps, M. V. M.; Fellow of the Massachusetts
Medical Society, American Medical Association, Association of Military Surgeons of
the United States, Instructor in First Aid to the Injured to the
Boston Police Department, Metropolitan Park Police
and the Fall River Police Department.
PART II
Respiration, suffocation and artificial
respiration. Respiration or breathing con-
sists of the alternate expansion and con-
traction of the chest by means of which
air is drawn into and forced out of the
lungs. We breathe on an average of six-
teen times to a minute. Anything which
interferes with breathing will cause suf-
focation. This may be due to external
or internal causes. The following are
some of the most frequent causes of
suffocation: foreign bodies in the wind-
pipe, such as a piece of meat, buttons,
coins; foul gases, such as sewer gas, il-
luminating gas, fumes of charcoal, smoke,
vapors from various chemicals; drowning,
hanging, being buried in a cave-in, land-
slide of earth or snow. Next to being
able to stop bleeding, I believe that know-
ing how to properly apply artificial respira-
tion, in a case of drowning or suffocation
from gas, is the next most important
thing in first aid to the injured. Many
people are suffocated, either accidentally
or intentionally every year, and if arti-
ficial respiration was properly applied
in many cases lives could be saved that
are otherwise lost.
Artificial Respiration. As the method
of artificial respiration in all cases, whether
used for gas-poisoning or drowning is
the same, and as it is perhaps used more
often for cases of drowning, I will illustrate
the method used for resuscitating an
apparently drowned person. Probably
the best method used by the life-saving
stations, police and others is known as
the Sylvester Method. The first thing
to do after removing the person from the
water is to get the water out of the mouth,
throat, lungs and stomach. This is best
accomplished by turning the person over
on their stomach, stand over the body,
grasp around the waist and raise the
body up, so that the head and the feet
hang down (see illustration number 2).
This position and the pressure of the
hands on the abdomen, force the water
out of the st9mach and lungs. This is
a better way of getting the water out
than the old-fashioned way of rolling
the body over a barrel, and avoids the
danger of bruising the body and even the
possibility of breaking one of the arms.
Now place the person flat on the back.
In warm weather, the best place to apply
artificial respiration is out of doors in the
fresh air; in cold weather, this should be
done indoors in a well-ventilated room.
Unloosen all tight clothing about the
neck and waist; in fact, it is well to remove
all wet clothing so that there will be no
interference with respiration or the cir-
culation. Place a pillow or blanket,
rolled up, under the shoulders, permitting
the head to fall backwards. This position
permits the windpipe to open up. Never
place a pillow under the head. Next
force open the mouth and pass the index
finger around the mouth, sweeping back
to the throat, so as to clear out all mucus
(107)
108
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
and grit which may have collected there.
Almost always in cases of suffocation,
the tongue is found way back in the
throat. It is absolutely necessary, in
order to render artificial respiration prop-
erly, to see that the tongue is drawn for-
ward and kept forward, either by means
of a tongue forceps or by tying a hand-
kerchief around the tongue and the lower
jaw, or by using a strong rubber band in
the same way. Now kneel at the patient's
head, if working on the ground, or stand
if the patient is on a lounge or table.
Never stand over the body, as this inter-
feres with the proper motions of artificial
respiration. Grasp the arms about at
the wrist and raise them upward and
backward until they touch the ground
behind the patient's head and wait a
few seconds, or until one, two, three can
No. 3
be counted, slowly (see illustration
number 3). This movement raises the
chest and allows the air to rush into the
lungs, and might be called artificial in-
spiration^ Now double up the arms at
the elbows, and bring them down slowly
upon the sides of the chest and press
firmly (see illustration number 4). This
No. 4
movement forces the air out of the lungs,
and might "be called artificial expiration.
Now rest a few seconds, the same as after
the first motion, and then repeat the same
movements regularly and persistently,
at the rate of sixteen times to the minute,
corresponding to the natural rate of breath-
ing. This should be continued for at
least an hour or an hour and a half before
giving up, or until a physician has pro-
nounced the person dead. During the
application of artificial respiration the
body should be kept warm by the applica-
tion of hot water bottles and blankets.
With the return of natural breathing and
the beating of the heart, friction and
rubbing should be applied to the arms
and legs; and as soon as the patient can
swallow, hot drinks, such as hot tea and
coffee, whiskey or brandy may be given.
As soon as regular breathing is re-es-
tablished, the patient should be put to
bed and kept quiet in order to recover
from the shock.
One of the most recent advances made
in the scientific world with regard
to resuscitating person overcome
by suffocation, drowning and the
effects of ether, etc., is by means
of a mechanical apparatus, known
as the Habberley Resuscitator, an
invention of Superintendent Albert
N. Habberley of the Metropolitan
Park System of Massachusetts, man-
ufactured by The Randall-Faichney
Company, Boston. As a result of
years of careful experimentation, he has
perfected an apparatus by means of
which artificial respiration may be ap-
plied, in the above mentioned cases,
filling and emptying the lungs without
any injury to the delicate air cells and
resuscitating persons overcome, in a much
better and more scientific way than by
any other means yet known.
Such an apparatus should be
a part of the equipment of all
hospitals, life-saving stations
and places where artificial res-
piration is required.
Breaking through the ice. To
rescue a person who has broken
through the ice, it is not wise
to attempt to walk out to
them on the ice, as it is liable
to give way, and the would-be rescuer
finds himself in the same predicament.
In the first place, always tie a good
strong rope around your own waist and
see that it is firmly attached to a tree
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
109
or post on shore, so that you may
be sure of getting back to shore your-
self in case the ice gives way. If you
spread your weight on the ice by
creeping on your hands and knees, or
better still, working your way, flat on
your abdomen, you can go where the ice
would not bear your weight standing up.
If obtainable, push a long board, pole,
tree or ladder out in front of you, and this
will lessen the danger of getting in the
water too. The treatment of a person
who has become apparently drowned from
breaking through the ice is artificial
respiration as already described.
Various kinds of wounds. Wounds are
injuries to the outer surface of the body,
in which an opening is made in the skin
and more or less of the deeper tissues,
depending upon the severity of the in-
jury. The different kinds of wounds are:
cut or incised, torn or lacerated, bruises
or contusions, pierced or punctured, and
poisoned.
Cut or incised wounds, as the name
indicates, are the result of injuries caused
by - sharp-cutting instruments, such as
knives, razors and pieces of glass. The
edges of such wounds are clean cut and
can be brought together and sewed up
(by the surgeon), so that when healed
there is practically no scar left. Torn
or lacerated wounds are the result of
tearing of the tissues, caused by crushing
accidents, machinery and explosives. Such
wounds, on account of their extent and
the irregularity of the edges, cannot as
a rule be sewed up, and when they heal
they leave bad scars. Bruises or con-
tusions result from blows and falls. The
skin is not cut or torn, but some of the
small blood vessels under the skin are
ruptured and as a result we get the well-
known black and blue marks. Pierced
or punctured wounds are produced by
daggers, knives, bullets and all sharp
pointed instruments. Usually the open-
ing in the skin may be small, but the
wound may be deep and liable to involve
some of the internal and vital organs.
Poisoned wounds are the result of bites
of venomous reptiles, animals or insects,
where at the time of the injury some poison-
ous substance has been injected into the
tissues. Snake bites, mad-dog bites and
mosquito bites are examples. In the first
aid treatment of all kinds of wounds, al-
ways remember where they are at all
serious to send for a surgeon at once.
The treatments of cuts and lacerated
wounds consists in first stopping the
bleeding by either direct pressure on the
wound with an antiseptic first aid dress-
ing, or by the use of a tourniquet, and
second by keeping the wound absolutely
clean, so as to prevent infection and
blood-poisoning. This means that if
you are obliged to handle the wound, be
sure and see that your hands are made
absolutely clean by scrubbing them with
plenty of hot water and soap and a stiff
brush. If an antiseptic solution is used,
there is nothing better than Lysol, one
teaspoonful to a quart of hot water. This
makes a clean, soapy, antiseptic solution,
and is not injurious to the hands or to
any wounds. • Do not use carbolic acid
or bi-chloride. They are too powerful,
dangerous and poisonous for indiscriminate
use, -except under the direction of a phy-
sician. Bruises or contusions are usually
very slight, and require very little treat-
ment. Hot or cold applications generally
relieve the pain and swelling, and the
discoloration clears up in a few days by
absorption. Equal parts of witch hazel
and water, either hot or cold, is good treat-
ment for bruises. The first aid treatment
of punctured wounds is very limited, be-
cause of their dangerous nature, especially
where they involve the chest, abdomen
and brain. They require the skilled ser-
vices of a surgeon as soon as possible.
The danger from such wounds of course
is internal bleeding, infection and blood-
poisoning. If any first aid treatment is
used at all, the only thing to do is to cover
the wound of entrance and exit with a
clean antiseptic first aid dressing, so as
to prevent dirt and germs getting into
the wound, and get the person to a sur-
geon or hospital as quickly as possible.
The treatment of poisoned wounds, such
as snake bites and mad-dog bites, is to
prevent the poison from getting into the
circulation, and then destroying the poison.
This can be done, where the hands, fingers,
legs and feet are involved, by using a
tourniquet or by binding a piece of string
or a rubber band above the bite, so as
110
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
to stop the circulation — then the poison
can be removed by several ways. If you
are absolutely certain that there are no
cuts in the mucous membrane of the lips
and mouth, the poison can be sucked out,
but the best way is to take a red hot poker
and cauterize the bite, so as to destroy
the germs, which cause hydrophobia.
This should be done preferably by a
physician, and if absolutely certain that
the dog was mad, the patient should be
sent to a Pasteur hospital for treatment.
The treatment of a snake bite is prac-
tically the same as mad-dog bite, with the
addition that the person may be given
considerable whiskey, and it can also be
used locally on the snake bite.
Burns are injuries due to the action
of heat in various forms, caused by con-
tact with fire, steam and various chemicals.
They are divided into three varieties,
No. 5
according to their severity. Burns of the
first degree are where the skin is reddened.
Burns of the second degree, where blisters
are formed, and burns of the third degree,
where there is charring and destruction
of the skin and underlying tissues. Burns
of the first and second degree, unless of
great extent, are not as a rule serious;
where, however, a large portion of the
skin of the body is burned, say one-third
or one-half, results are always serious,
and frequently fatal. Burns of the third
degree are the most severe and dangerous.
Such burns are usually attended by severe
nervous shock, and death frequently
follows in from twenty-four to forty-eight
hours. Pain accompanies burns of all
degrees, and in sonie cases is very severe.
Treatment of burns. The first aid treat-
ment of burns is to keep the parts as clean
as possible and to exclude the air. The
application of any clean, oily substance is
all that is required. Olive oil, sweet oil,
butter, lard and carron oil are frequently
used. Carron oil is a mixture of equal
parts of linseed oil and limewater. A
solution of baking soda in water is a very
soothing application. The burned parts
should be bathed in any of the above prep-
arations and then covered over with com-
presses soaked in the solutions and then
bandaged. In burns of the second degree,
where large blisters are formed, these
should have the serum or water removed
from them, as follows: take a clean cambric
needle that has never been used, pass it
several times through the flame of an
alcohol lamp, so as to be certain that it is
sterilized, then enter the blister by passing
the needle through the healthy skin about
a quarter of an inch beyond the edge of
the blister, then gently press out the water.
In this way the blistered skin forms a
natural protection to the new skin under-
neath. In burns of the third degree, the
clothing frequently adheres to the flesh.
In such cases never remove the clothing
forcibly, but cut it away as close to the
burn as possible. Burns caused
by strong acids, such as nitric,
sulphuric, etc., should not have
water applied to them, as this
simply spreads the acid and
causes a larger burn. Such burns
should first be neutralized by
means of an alkali of some kind, such
as sodium bicarbonate or chalk. When
acids are splashed into the eyes, solutions
of the above alkalies should be applied
in order to neutralize the acids. In the
same way burns caused by strong alkalies,
such as caustic soda or potash, should
be neutralized by the application of
some acid preparation, such as a solution
of vinegar and water or lemon juice and
water.
Some of the severest cases of burns result
from the clothing catching fire, especially
those of women. As a rule under such
circumstances, they become confused and
run about the house and even out into the
open air, which is really the worst thing
they could do and makes the clothing
burn all the more rapidly. The thing to
do is to grasp them and force them to the
ground or floor, wrapping them up in a
blanket, rug or overcoat and rolling them
over the floor. (See Illustration No. 5.)
( To be continued )
THE
amn
AT THE STUDIO — ROSARIE SOULE
'HE was late. For the third time
Manetti drew forth the heavy
Swiss watch. Just then faintly,
very faintly, it chimed the
seventh hour of an April evening.
He turned back to the window with an
impatient ejaculation. She had never been
this late before. Six-thirty was the hour
for her lesson, and Manetti would never
have waited even this long, but she had
always been at the studio with unusual
punctuality — for a woman.
Rosarie Soule entered. She glimpsed his
face as he swung around suddenly from the
window, "Oh, don't lecture me, please,"
entreated Rosarie, seating herself wearily.
"I couldn't stand it after all — all this after-
noon." She felt her courage about to melt
into tears; she sat up very straight and
pressed her lips firmly.
"No, Little Lady, it is'not a lecture we
shall call it; rather an explanation. Come;
I perceive you are troubled."
"I am fired," said Rosarie simply.
"Fired?" echoed Manetti. .
"Fired. Turned out; in other words,
informed that my services are no longer
valuable to the firm, Messrs. Crossers and
Jacobs.
' ' Fired on the grounds of neglecting my
duty. Not Christian duty by any means;
duty! Merciless tattling they compel you
to when you sign their papers."
"How now?" queried he.
"I attended the counter of a pale, weak
droopy little thing while she escaped to the
park for a few minutes to relieve a terrific
headache. She only took up fifteen min-
utes after the lunch hour. My counter was
right next to hers, so I told her to go on and
enjoy herself. Floor walker nosed around
and reported it. We both got fired.
'Twasn't that— 'twasn't that—"
"Eh?" encouraged Manetti.
Rosarie shifted about in her seat, then
faced him with eyes blazing from her
thoughts.
"'Twasn't that alone he fired me for;
or rather reported me for." She hesitated.
Manetti waited.
"He tried to kiss me last week, and I —
slapped him!"
Silence for a moment.
"He said then he'd get even!"
"Beast!" ejaculated Manetti. "But
surely you can interview the manager and
justify yourself?"
"Ah, how little you know about it, my
friend. He will not even bother to see me.
And if he should, what chance would I
stand after such a report and after it had
been passed up through such a source?"
She shook her head slowly. "Ah, you
don't know. Others have failed. The
girls told me a few things."
"Poor child," said Manetti, "poor child.
It's an outrage!"
"I am so late because I've been trying
for other places, but it's a hard thing to
find when you have no more flattering a
recommendation than I have! Fired!"
She spoke bitterly now.
"Here's my music! You know how I've
worked with that!" Her eyes looked ap-
pealing. "You know! And . now — now
even that has got to stop. And I have
staked so much on it, too! I thought — oh,
do you think it's going to be anything with
me? Do you?"
"Miss Soule, you have only been my
(HI)
112
THE SONG OF THE SOUL
pupil a little over a half term, and progress
in voice is slow, my dear, very slow and
sure, if the singer would master her art.
I think I may encourage you this much,
however: you have a capable ear, a wide
range and above all, the most necessary —
a sympathy of expression. With these
accessories I feel quite justified in saying
that you will win — some day! Some day,
Miss Soule.
''But you must have each note upon the
scale at your command ; to place and color
at your will. To make it quiver with tears
or bubble with laughter ! It is a language
of the soul that God gives but few the real
power to interpret. Ah, Little Lady, you
are only in A B C. There is much more to
know. Much more."
Rosarie had leaned forward with eyes
intent upon his face as he talked. Talked !
Ah, no. It was far too insipid a word to
express it, as he sang her lesson in low,
vibrant notes that rose and fell, rose and
fell — like the sound of soft waters soothing
a troubled spirit to rest. So Rosarie
thought as she listened and forgot her own
present state of misery.
All was silent for a little, and he was
about to speak again, when she said :
"Ah, if I might be one of the — chosen —
interpreters!"
"You may. Attend. Today — this morn-
ing— I received word from Mrs. Astor-
Raeburn to send one of my best pupils for
her concert which is given in honor of her
daughter who has just returned from the
Notre Dame in France. It is to be tomor-
row evening; and, as you may know, it is
a fad among the rich nowadays to seek out
and promote a promising young celebrity.
Perhaps — well, I shall not flatter or encour-
age you yet. She likes the unusual; and
often in preference to some well-known
singer will find an 'unknown' in some
studio and delight in having discovered the
hidden violet."
Manetti studied his pupil a moment,
then continued:
"You shall go to her, even though I
have told her I should send Eileen Ashton.
Miss Ashton, as you are aware, has been
my pupil for three years, and it is no doubt
obvious to you, as to me, that she is without
question my 'best ' as far as advancement
in the voice is concerned. But you — " he
held up his hand, "poor child, shall have
your chance!"
Rosarie saw in an instant the bigness of
his heart. She understood why he was
sending her.
"Oh, you are so kind! I am as grateful
as a poor girl can be," she held out her
hand. "It will help, oh, so much!" she
said. Her heart rose from the depths to
which it had sunk and bobbed up and down
in ecstasy of anticipation.
"Now come," said he, releasing his hand
from the strong friendly clasp of her fingers.
" Let us see what will suit your voice best."
He swung around to the piano.
THE SELECTION — THE INTERPRETATION
"Ah! here," taking an "Arab Love
Song" from the top of the cabinet nearby.
He struck three or four preliminary chords.
They went over it together once, twice;
and even a third time.
"That will never do!" cried Manetti
finally. "Never! — You do not seem to —
Ah!" Suddenly he dived down into the
stack of music and drew forth another
selection.
" 'The Song of the Soul !' This is better
in your power for interpretation! Attend.
I shall tell it to you and play it afterward,
for the music is but the setting and you
will have to learn your part before rehears-
ing with the former!"
His pupil seated herself opposite him.
"I am ready," she said. Manetti turned
so that he could face her and yet glance
occasionally at the music on the piano.
" This is a song of your soul, Little Lady.
It must be — intense," choosing the word
after a second or so of deliberation.
"'Ev'ry soul hath its song, its melody
divine; ev'ry soul hath its song, its melody
divine.' Repeated for emphasis. 'Rising
to ecstasy — and so hath mine !' Declare it !
'And so hath mine!' 'Ev'ry 3oul hath its
song, its melody divine, Rising to ecstasy
to ecstasy! And so hath mine!'
That is all you can think of; all in your
heart — your mind! As ev'ry soul has its
song, so has yours. Now if you have a
song you want to sing it, as, if you have a
secret, you long to tell it. Ah, I know!
'Tis a woman's way!
" 'Just let me sing my song, my song
divine ; Let me sing, let me sing, let me sing
THE SONG OF THE SOUL
113
my song divine !' Plead it ; beg with tears
in your voice! For it is a divine song and
as the flower must breathe forth its fra-
grance and drink the sun and dew, so must
you sing your song and live on its spell!
If not? Then: 'ah, let me sing my song
divine, or I shall die of sorrow!' If you
may not breathe the song from your soul
you will die, you will die — of sorrow!
Here, take this. Follow me." He handed
her a copy from the piano.
The notes rose and fell in peaceful cad-
ence throughout the still room in the
opening of the song. And then, as if the
very soul of the instrument were just
awakened, it leaped and bounded to cli-
matic heights in clamoring richness asserting
itself. Then — as suddenly did it fall back
to a gentle throbbing which sank to almost
silence.
When it seemed nearly lulled to slumber,
it stirred, leaped again and soared to the
heights of some paradise invisible, coming
back in whispering sweetness, and passing
away into space.
Her teacher turned. Rosarie still held
rigidly to the song, staring mutely at its
ended theme ! Suddenly she rose and took
her place at the side of the piano. With
trembling hands she raised the copy.
"Let me sing the song," she breathed.
"I understand."
Once more he turned to the instrument.
His fingers sought the keys, and she began
her song.
Who can describe the power, passion,
and tenderness Rosarie Soule wove into
this rendition? Not even the poet who
has fluent, beauteous thoughts at his 'com-
mand, and words in abundance to color it
with! This description!
The last note came back sweetly, softly,
from the bare walls. The girl's face was
transfigured by the power of her song.
The soul which she sang of lay in her eyes ;
the fragrance of "its melody divine" still
played about her lips which were slightly
apart as if they had yet a little more to
tell — a little more to beg!
Manetti was a true artist, and he sat under
the spell fully aware of the charm he thought
she might possess, but never knew of until
now — the gift of interpretation!
"Do you know what you have done?"
he said to Rosarie.
"I only know I have sung my song,"
she- replied.
"You have interpretated your song! . .
I shall be with you tomorrow evening.
Until then — adio! Or you might come in
the morning for one more rehearsal . Adio !"
He rose, went to the door with her and
bowed as she passed out.
AT THE ASTOR-RAEBURN'S — THE
REVELATION
Mr. Raeburn stepped into his wife's
boudoir.
"My dear, you must forgive me for
leaving you at the critical moment, but I
must go. Weymouth's man has telephoned
that Budgie Weymouth is ill and calling
for me every minute. I shall not be gone
long. I cannot understand it; I left Wey-
mouth yesterday after supper at the club,
and he was in perfect health. He isn't far
from here — in his bachelor quarters, you
know. Poor old chap !"
Mrs. Astor-Raeburn lay down the string
of pearls she had been trying about her
throat, and turned away from the mirror.
"Poor Budgie! Yes, you must certainly
go to him. But do try to return in time
for the musical, won't you? Where is my
bracelet? Oh, dear — that careless girl!"
She rang for her maid. Mr. Raeburn
turned to go.
"Telephone if you have to remain very
long; I shall delay for you as long as pos-
sible."
"All right!" called Raeburn passing out.
"I shall."
In the wide and long and elegant par-
lors of the Astor-Raeburn 's beautiful old
home a swarm of people buzzed and hum-
med and moved to and fro.
In the music room at the rear of the
back parlor was an inprovised stage for
the performers; in front were seats placed
here and there in no particular position.
Palms and tall lilies graced the room, and
the very surroundings indicated ease and
comfort. Though the stage was well light-
ed with soft, mellow lights, about the ceil-
ing bulbs peered forth from green and
yellow flower shades. The parlors were
pink and white, and green and yellow.
The flowers in these rooms were fragrant
tea roses.
Manetti and Rosarie had arrived to-
114
THE SONG OF THE SOUL
gether. When the latter was presented to
Mrs. Astor-Raeburn, she was somewhat sur-
prised at the plain black satin gown cut
very modestly from the throat where a
single string of pearls was twisted; on her
arm she wore a single bracelet. No more
display. A simple attire worn with match-
less grace and dignity. It truly was a con-
trast to some of the gowns present.
She had expected to see a willowy figure
in billowy lace and encased in diamonds!
She welcomed the friendly clasp her hostess
gave her hand, and at once felt almost at
ease. But as soon as Rosarie moved away
into the midst of the guests, she became
a stranger again. She longed to have the
singing over with and be once more within
her humble little room, planning for the
future. She had an idea to try the stage.
But this was early spring, and she would
have to study until the fall at least. Well,
she might do as she pleased. There was
no one to say her "yea" or "nay."
Long ago with the passing of her dear
mother whose name she had only been old
enough to call "Muver," she had known
no home save another's — her aunt's home,
in Boston. Of her stepfather Rosarie knew
very little and heard less. Leaving her in
Boston, he had gone somewhere away out
West to try his luck in the mines. When
last heard from he was in Denver. All this
was told Rosarie when she grew old enough
to understand.
Two years ago Aunt Betty died, leaving
her niece memories — inherited memories —
and a small sum of money; barely enough
to keep and clothe Rosarie throughout a
single year.
Manetti piloted her about and never left
her side for an instant. For this she was
very thankful, for in these surroundings he
had suddenly become an old friend to her
and she found herself conversing more
fluently with him than she had ever done
before. They talked alternatively to many
people and as the evening wore away,
Rosarie 's nervousness ceased altogether.
"It is kind of you not to leave me,"
whispered Rosarie to Manetti when they
found themselves on the edge of the crowd
and a little apart from the others. Manetti
smiled.
"I want to keep you composed for your
song," he said.
"Ah, here you are, my dear!" exclaimed
Mrs. Astor-Raeburn, sweeping down upon
the pair. "We are ready for you; I've
waited as long as I dare. They are becom-
ing impatient." She looked back over her
shoulder at a laughing, fanning throng.
"So suppose we start now." Sh~ looked
to the singer to open the program.
An audience seated languidly about the
music room with upturned faces beheld a
tall, fair-haired girl with large, soft brown
eyes. She wore a simple white silk mull
with a single red, red rose at her breast.
No flowers, no ribbon in the simply
arranged hair, and no ornaments about her
lovely person.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Billy Raeburn to
his sister, Millicent. "She looks dead swell
under those lights! Doesn't she?"
They were seated very near the stage.
Millicent turned to her brother.
"My dear Billy, how inappropriately
you choose your adjectives. I should say
how sweet and charming. Your comment
rather suggests a 14th street soubrette!
N'est-ce-pas?"
Her brother was about to reply when
Millicent whispered: "Hush. Listen."
The prelude had been played, and Rosarie
opened her lips to let her soul-song escape.
Whispers ceased. The room suddenly
grew very quiet. Even fans were closed
and lay forgotten in their owner's laps.
"Rising to ecstasy, and so hath mine!"
The air seemed surcharged with electrical
sweetness which sent little thrills through-
out the audience. The song found a place
in the heart of every one present and in
some manner was manifest in their faces.
No one of the audience noticed Raeburn
as he stole softly in and stood up at the
rear near the entrance of the music room.
No one noticed him but the singer whose
eyes fell upon his conspicuous figure, then
travelled to his gray head and at last to
his blue eyes. Looking into them she sang.
"Just let me sing my song — my song
divine ! Let me sing, let me sing my song
divine!!" High the last note ended — high
and. sweet, and ringing.
"Ah, let me sing my song divine," she
pleaded, looking back to Raeburn again —
and pleaded as if he had held the song from
her lips, her heart all these years! Sud-
denly Raeburn started.
She wore a single white silk mull with a single red, red rose at her breast
116
THE SONG OF THE SOUL
Those eyes — hair — face — form ! He saw
before him a revelation!
" Let me sing my song divine!" rang high
and sweet again. "Or I shall die — " sink-
ing lower and softer, "of sor — " sustained
and low — "row!" ending in high G, full
and rich in color and tone.
Rosarie Soule bowed to her audience and
smiled dazedly as she stepped back from
the stage. This action seemed to bring
her listeners from under the spell. The
room was filled instantly with noisy ap-
plause.
Raeburn leaned over the back of his
wife's chair and said:
"Is that Miss Ashton?"
"Oh, you startled me ! No, Miss Ashton
is substituted by Miss Soule. When did
you come in? I didn't hear you."
"Soule? Soule?" cried Raeburn.
"Yes; Rosarie Soule. Did you miss
much, dear? I—
" Don't you know who Rosarie Soule is?"
exclaimed Raeburn.
" No. Who?" mildly queried Mrs. Astor-
Raeburn.
"Don't you remember my telling you
years ago that I married Rosarie Soule?
Mrs. Soule?"
"Yes — yes*," spoke his wife somewhat
vaguely. "Then this young woman is —
" Her daughter," finished Raeburn. "My
daughter — my stepdaughter ! ' '
Rosarie had appeared again upon the
stage in response to the tumultuous encore.
Even as he spoke Raeburn moved forward
with white face and eyes strangely aglow,
seeing in the sweet child-face the wife and
ardent love of his youth!
He stepped upon the stage and took
her by the hand.
"Allow me to introduce my step-daugh-
ter, Rosarie Soule!" he said.
"Twenty-two years ago at the death of
her mother I placed this child, a mere tod-
dling tot, in charge of her aunt in Boston,
and myself turned to the West in search of
fortune. When I returned North I learned
of the death of Mrs. Bradford, her aunt.
I searched Boston for Rosarie, and finally
discovered she had left there, but no one
seemed to know where she had gone. I
made many inquiries since , but they resulted
in nothing, so at last I abandoned all hope
of ever seeing her again. Least of all here
in New York! And here," he turned to
Rosarie, "an Unseen Hand has guided her
tome!"
If the guests were astonished, amused
and delighted at this announcement and
little sketch of Mr. Raeburn 's career,
Rosarie Soule was all these in the superla-
tive degree!
"Call me dad, father — any old thing!"
cried Raeburn to the look of bewilderment
in her eyes.
"Father," murmured Rosarie, with more
of question rising in her tone than any
expression of sentiment.
Raeburn kissed one of the flaming cheeks
and led his step-daughter down the center
of a chattering, congratulating crowd pres-
sing very close about the two as they pro-
ceeded toward Mrs. Astor-Raeburn.
"One can never have too many daugh-
ters," said Mrs. Astor-Raeburn, welcoming
the girl with a kiss. "You will stay with
us now. Tomorrow we shall kill a fatted
calf for you! Do you hear, friends? I
extend an informal invitation to as many
of you as can come to dinner tomorrow
evening!"
They did hear, and accepted happily
the unique diversion this entertainment
would afford. Mrs. Astor-Raeburn was
always doing the unusual. They owned
that this was half her charm. She did
the unusual and defied criticism.
"Dinner at eight — prompt! After that
cards, games, anything you may suggest.
And oh, of course — singing!" She looked
at Rosarie, who was very highly colored
in excitement. Her heart hopped and
skipped about in her breast. Sometimes
she felt it tight in her throat.
She could only nod happily in assurance
to this announcement from Mrs. Astor-
Raeburn, her — what? Oh, this was getting
to be too much for Rosarie's brain, which
was all muddled now in a head spinning
around like a top to the tune of — "Let
me sing my song, my song divine! Let
me sing my song divine — or I shall die —
of sorrow!"
THE STUDIO — MANETTI
It was about a month later that Manetti
sat in the early twilight running his fingers
listlessly over the keys. It was Rosarie
Soule 's hour which had never been filled
THE SONG OF THE SOUL
117
in by any other pupil since she had left.
It was usually long past Manetti's hour
for giving lessons that Rosarie used to
come, but he had always waited for her
because she could not be present at any
other time, save very early in the morning.
And Manetti was a late riser.
After a while he walked over to the
open window and looked cut upon the
busy life below. He saw an electric
brougham drive up to the door and there
stepped out a vision of elegance.
Presently a tap at his door. He crossed
the room, but before he had gone half way
the door opened and a face peered cau-
tiously in.
"Ah, you are at home, then," said the
visitor, coming forward with both hands
extended. A little silver bag dangled
from one arm.
"Miss Soule!" exclaimed Manetti. "You
are the illustration of my thoughts."
"Why, were you thinking of me?"
asked Rosarie as she took the chair he
placed for her.
"Yes; this is your hour, you know."
"I know that," she answered. "What
were you doing?"
"Playing — and thinking."
"Thoughts set to music!" laughed
Rosarie.
"So. You are going to study in Europe.
Soon?"
"I leave in September," she answered.
"Well, ah, well ... We all must try
our wings. Sometimes we fly very far
and grow very weary, then we are glad
enough to creep back to our forsaken
nests I Sometimes, we stay so long away-
some of us — that there is no nest when
we return ! You will learn much in travel-
ing, Miss Soule," said Manetti.
She sat silent, looking down at the
vanity bag in her lap. He studied her —
his former pupil.
She wore a black striped taffeta, effec-
tively trimmed in black velvet. On her
head, and tilted to the right, was a large
black picture hat graced by a single willow
plume. Rosarie Soule was indeed good
to look upon. Suddenly she looked up.
"Money doesn't make the nest after
all, does it?" she asked, smiling.
"No; indeed, no. Each little strand
is woven around with the care of love
and feathered with patience and faith. But
sometimes a storm comes and whirls the
nest away !" He was becoming reminiscent.
"How do you know all this?" demanded
Rosarie. "Have you perchance ever had — "
"No; oh, no," he hastily assured her.
"Once I started building one but — the
storm!" With a shrug and gesture.
"Oh," said she, rising. "Oh!" Which
might mean any number of things.
"Let me sing my song!" She took her
place a little away from the piano and
crossed her hands behind her.
Manetti obeyed; touching the keys
softly and lingering a second upon her
chord, she began the song. Memories
flooded through the music and glistened
in her eyes.
"Let me sing my song, my song divine!"
was borne upon the deepening twilight
through the open window. "Ah, let me
sing my song divine!" The last word
rang through the room to its utmost
vowel; then, very softly, as she clasped
her hands at her breast, "Or I shall die
of sorrow."
Not until its echo had passed away did
either move. There was some sort of
communication going on between them
which both were aware of, yet neither
dared to interrupt. Manetti presently
turned from her. Rosarie laughed, some-
what abashed. She was about to drop
back to her chair when he suddenly
swung about.
"Sing 'Promise Me,'" he demanded,
rather than entreated.
"No. You sing it for me, please. It
sounds so much better in a man's voice,
anyway. Sing it!"
"Sit down," he said.
She moved her chair a little so that she
could see his face as he sang. Manetti's
rich baritone went straight to the heart
of Rosarie Soule. As she sat there wrapped
in the charm- his voice had cast upon her,
she looked at his handsome features and
wondered about the man. He had been
so kind, so patient with her many mis-
takes; and had helped her up many a
time when she had stumbled in her "A-
B-C's" of music. She had found him
ever ready to sympathize with her petty
trials, and more than once had helped
her by his kindly advice when she had
118
THE SONG OF THE SOUL
come in for her lesson in a low-spirited,
troubled mood? He had indeed been her
benefactor in many things.
' 'Sweet violets of early spring, which
come in whispers, thrill us both and sing"-
Rosarie met his eyes — "of love unspeak-
able that is to be. Promise me; oh,
promise me!" Something awakened in
her breast; stirred, tried to be free, then
sank to rest again. "Ah, the power of
his song!" she thought.
"No love less perfect than a life with
thee. Promise me; oh, promise me!"
How his voice lingered over "promise!"
And as if the word were scarcely to be
spoken, he whispered "me."
Manetti, all unaware of his boldness,
had stretched out a hand to her. But
she lowered her eyes and did not see this
gesture. He was glad. He murmured
something self -condemning, then arose
and took another seat further away.
"That was beautiful!" cried Rosarie.
"Beautiful! I love it so!"
He smiled. "The song is beautiful,"
he answered simply.
"I was wondering where your thoughts
were while you were singing."
"Once I might have told you," said he.
"But not now."
"Why?"
"The storm has swept the nest away,
and I cannot show you what I was build-
ing."
"Can't you build again?"
"I fear not. No, it would be of no use
now. It is too late."
"How now !" exclaimed Rosarie. "Where
is all that fine courage you used to ad-
minister me?"
"The best doctor cannot save himself."
"But you are not ill?"
"Only of the heart," replied Manetti.
"Ah, some woman! I see. And will
she have none of you?"
"I do not know."
"Then ask her."
"Will you?"
"Will I? Will I what?" asked Rosarie,
contracting her pretty brows in a troubled
manner.
"Have aught of me? My heart, for
instance! Take care! You will trample
upon it! It is at your feet! M
Rosarie had risen. She laughed ner-
vously, looking down as if she actually
expected to see it.
"Surely you are not serious!"
"No; of course not. I often jest this
way. Forgive my dry humor, Miss
Soule. I am dull." He bowed low and
mockingly.
This hurt her. She wished she had not
spoken at all. Ah, that he could treat
love so lightly!
"It must be very late. I had not meant
to stay so long," she said.
"I think it must have seemed long to
you. I am a poor entertainer." He rose
and pushed a button flooding the room
with light.
"You know I didn't say — didn't mean
that!" stammered Rosarie, giving him her
hand at the door as she was passing out.
"Oh! I have forgotten something!"
withdrawing her hand and entering the
room. "My purse; there it is; over on
the piano!"
"Is that all?" he asked, covering the
hand with both of his as he returned the
purse. "Haven't you forgotten your
song?"
"My song?" lowering her eyes to the
bare floor.
"Yes; it is here in my heart. The one
you nearly trampled upon; the other you
left with me — to stay always. They are
inseparable. Rosarie! Rosarie!"
"I am glad it is so. I am glad. 'Or I
should die of sorrow!' Oh, my dear — my
dear!"
She raised her eyes. No fear that he
should read them now. In his arms she
raised her face, and when she felt his
kisses and knew the sweetness of good,
strong love, she realized as never before
how empty her whole life had been; how
lonely! It was this she had waited for.
It was this she needed.
"My little wife, aren't you? My little
wife!"
"Yes, ah, yes!" happily she whispered.
THE
ornery
^ g^UST before the letter was brought
x-} to me that evening I was watch-
to m» ing the red November sunset
^*-^ from the library window. It
was a stormy, unrestful sunset, gleaming
angrily through the dark fir boughs that
were now and again tossed suddenly and
distressfully in a fitful gust of wind. Be-
low, in the garden, it was quite dark, and
I could only see dimly the dead leaves
that were whirling and dancing uncannily
over the roseless paths. The poor dead
leaves — yet not quite dead ! There was still
enough unquiet life left in them to make
them restless and forlorn. They hearkened
yet to every call of the wind, who cared for
them no longer but only played freakishly
with them and broke their rest. I felt
sorry for the leaves, as I watched them in
that dull, weird twilight, and angry — in
a petulant fashion that almost made me
laugh — with the wind that would not
leave them in peace. Why should they —
and I — be vexed with these transient
breaths of desire for a life that had passed
iisby?
I was in the grip of a bitter loneliness
that evening — so bitter and so insistent
that I felt I could not face the future at
all, even with such poor fragments of
courage as I had gathered about me after
father's death, hoping that they would, at
least, suffice for my endurance, if not for
my content. But now they fell away from
me at sight of the emptiness of life.
The emptiness! Ah, it was from that
I shrank. I could have faced pain and
anxiety and heartbreak undauntedly,
but I could not face that terrible, yawning,
barren emptiness. I put my hands over
my eyes to shut it out, but it pressed in
upon my consciousness insistently, and
would not be ignored longer.
The moment when a woman realizes
that she has nothing to live for —
neither love' nor purpose nor duty —
holds for her the bitterness of death. She
is a brave woman indeed who can look
upon such a prospect unquailingly; and
I was not brave. I was weak and timid.
Had not father often laughed mockingly
at me because of it?
It was three weeks since father had
died — my proud, handsome, unre-
lenting old father, whom I had loved so
intensely and who had never loved me.
I had always accepted this fact unresent-
fully and unquestioningly, but it had
steeped my whole life in its tincture of
bitterness. Father had never forgiven me
for two things. I had cost my mother's
life and I was not a son to perpetuate the
old name and carry on the family feud with
the Erasers.
I was a very lonely child, with no play-
mates or companions of any sort, and my
girlhood was lonelier still. The only
passion in my life was my love for my
father. I would have done and suffered
anything to win his affection in return.
But all I ever did win was an amused
tolerance — and I was grateful for that
— almost content. It was much to have
something to love and be permitted to
love it.
If I had been a beautiful and spirited
girl I think father might have loved me;
but I was neither. At first I did not think
or care about my lack of beauty; then one
day I was alone in the beech wood; I was
trying to disentangle my skirt which had
caught on some thorny underbrush. A
young man came around the curve of
the path and, seeing my predicament, bent
with murmured apology to help me. He
had to kneel to do it, and I saw a ray of
(119)
120
THE LETTERS
sunshine falling through the beeches above
us strike like a lance of light athwart the
thick brown hair that pushed out from
under his cap. Before I thought I put
out my hand and touched it softly; then
I blushed crimson with shame over what
I had done. But he did not know — he
never knew.
When he had 'released my dress he rose
and our eyes met for a moment as I
timidly thanked him. I saw that he was
good to look upon — tall and straight,
with broad, stalwart shoulders and a
dark clear-cut face. He had a firm,
sensitive mouth and kindly, pleasant,
dark-blue eyes. I never quite forgot the
look in those eyes. It made my heart
beat strangely; but it was only for a mo-
ment, and the next he had lifted his cap
and passed on.
As I went homeward I wondered who
he might be. He must be a stranger, I
thought— probably a visitor in some
of our few neighboring families. I won-
dered, too, if I should meet him again,
and found the thought very pleasant.
I knew few men and they were all old,
like father, or at least elderly. They were
the only people who ever came to our
house, and they either teased me or over-
looked me. None of them was at all like
this young man I had met in the beech-
wood nor ever could have been, I thought.
When I reached home I stopped before
the big mirror that hung in the hall and
did what I had never done before in my
life — looked at myself very scrutiniz-
ingly and wondered if I had any beauty.
I could only sorrowfully conclude that I
had not — I was so slight and pale, and
the thick black hair and dark eyes that
might have been pretty in another woman
seemed only to accentuate the lack of
spirit and regularity in -my features. I
was still standing there, gazing wistfully
at my mirrored face, with a strange sink-
ing of spirit, when fathercame through the
hall, his riding whip in his hand. Seeing
me, he laughed.
"Don't waste your time gazing into
mirrors, Isobel," he said carelessly. "That
might have been excusable in former
ladies of Shirley whose beauty might
pardon and even adorn vanity; but with
you it is only absurd. The needle and the
cook-book are all that you need concern
yourself with."
I was accustomed to such speeches from
him, but they had never hurt me so cruelly
before. At that moment I would have
given all the world only to be beautiful.
The next Sunday I looked across the
church, and in the Fraser pew I saw the
young man I had met in the wood. He
was looking at me with his arms folded
over his breast and on his brow a little
frown that seemed somehow indicative
of pain and surprise. I felt a miserable
sense of disappointment. If he were the
Frasers' guest I could not expect to meet
him again. Father hated the Frasers;
all the Shirleys hated them; it was an old
feud, bitter and lasting, that had been as
much our inheritance for generations as
land and money. The only thing father
had ever taken pains to teach me was
detestation of the Frasers and all their
works. I accepted this as I accepted all
the other traditions of my race. I thought
it did not matter much. The Frasers were
not likely to come my way, and hatred
was a good satisfying passion in the lack
of all else. I think I rather took a pride
in hating them as became my blood.
I did not look at the Fraser pew again,
but outside, under the elms, we met him,
standing in the dappling light and shadow.
He looked very handsome and a little sad.
I could not help glancing back over my
shoulder as father and I walked to the gate,
and I saw him looking after us with that
little frown which again made me think
something had hurt him. I liked better the
smile he had worn in the beechwood;
but I had an odd liking for the frown, too,
and I think I had a foolish longing to go
back to him, put up my fingers and smooth
it away.
"So Alan Fraser has come home," said
my father.
"Alan Fraser?" I repeated, with a
strange, horrible feeling of coldness and
chill coming over me, like a shadow on
a bright day. Alan Fraser, the son of old
Malcolm Fraser of Glenellyn! The son
of our enemy! He had been living since
childhood with his dead mother's people;
so much I knew. And this was he! Some-
thing stung and smarted in my eyes. I
think the sting and smart might have
THE LETTERS
121
turned to tears if father had not been
looking down at me.
"Yes. Didn't you see him in his father's
pew? But I forgot. You are too demure
to be looking at the young men in preach-
ing— or out of it, Isobel. You are a
model young woman. Odd that the men
never like the model young women! Curse
old Malcolm Fraser! What right has he
to have a son like that when I have noth-
ing but a puling girl? Remember, Isobel,
that if you ever meet that young man you
are not to speak to or look at him, or even
intimate that you are aware of his exist-
ence. He is your enemy and the enemy
of your race: You will show him that you
realize this."
Of course that ended it all — though
just what there had been to end would
have been hard to say. Not long after-
wards I met Alan Fraser again, when I
was out for a canter on my mare. He
was strolling through the beechwood with
a couple of big collies, and he stopped
short as I drew near. I had to do it —
father had decreed — my Shirley pride
demanded — that I should do it. I looked
him unseeingly in the face, struck my
mare a blow with my whip, and dashed
past him. I even felt angry, I think, that
a Fraser should have the power to make
me feel so badly in doing my duty.
After that I had forgotten. There was
nothing to make me remember, for I
never met Alan Fraser again. The years
slipped by, one by one, so like each other
in their colorlessness that I forgot to take
account of them. I only knew that I grew
older and that it did not matter since
there was nobody to care. One day they
brought father in, white-lipped and groan-
ing. His mare had thrown him, and he
was never to walk again, although he
lived for five years. Those five years had
been the happiest of my life. For the first
time I was necessary to someone —
there was something for me to do which
nobody else could do so well. I was
father's nurse and companion, and I
found my pleasure in tending him and
amusing him, soothing his hours of pain
and brightening his hours of ease. People
said I "did my duty" toward him. I
had never liked that word "duty," since
the day I had ridden past Alan Fraser in
the beechwood. I could not connect it
with what I did for father. It was my
delight because I loved him. I did not
mind the moods and the irritable out-
bursts that drove others from him.
But now he was dead, and I sat in the
sullen dusk, wishing that I need not go on
with life either. The loneliness of the
big echoing house weighed on my spirit.
I was solitary, without companionship.
I looked out on the outside world where
the only sign of human habitation visible
to my eyes was the light twinkling out
from the library window of Glenellyn,
on the dark fir hill two miles away. By
that light I knew Alan Fraser must have
returned from his long sojourn abroad,
for it only shone when he was at Glenellyn^
He still lived there, something of a hermit,
people said; he had never married, and he
cared nothing for society. His companions
were books and dogs and horses; he was
given to scientific researches and wrote
much for the reviews; he travelled a great
deal. So much I knew in a vague way.
I even saw him occasionally in church,
and never thought the years had changed
him much, save that his face was sadder
and sterner than of old and his hair had
become iron gray. People said that he
had inherited and cherished the old hatred
of the Shirleys — that he was very
bitter against us. I believed it. He had
the face of a good hater — or lover —
a man who could play with no emotion
but must take it in all earnestness and
intensity.
When it was quite dark the housekeeper
brought in the lights and handed me a
letter, which, she said, a man had just
brought up from the village postoffice. I
looked at it curiously before I opened it,
wondering from whom it was. It was
postmarked from a city several miles
away and the firm, decided, rather peculiar
handwriting was strange to me. I had no
correspondents. After father's death I
had received a few perfunctory notes of
condolence from distant relatives and
family friends. They had hurt me cruelly,
for they seemed to exhale a subtle spirit
of congratulation on my being released from
a long and pleasant martyrdom of atten-
dance on an invalid, that quite overrode
the decorous phrases of conventional
122
THE LETTERS
sympathy in which they were expressed.
I hated those letters for their implied
injustice. I was not thankful for my
"release." I missed. father miserably and
longed passionately for the very tasks
and vigils that had evoked their pity.
This letter did not seem like one of
those. I opened it and took out some
stiff, blackly written sheets. They were
undated and, turning to the last, I saw
that they were unsigned. With a not
unpleasant tingling of interest I sat down
by my desk to read. The letter began
abruptly: "You will not know by whom
this is written. Do not seek to know —
now or ever. It is only from behind the
veil of your ignorance of my identity that
I can ever write to you fully and freely
as I wish to write — can say what I
wish to say in words denied to a formal
and conventional expression of sympathy.
Dear lady, let me say to you thus what
is in my heart.
"I know what your sorrow is, and I
think I know what your loneliness must
be — the sorrow of a broken tie, the
loneliness of a life thrown emptily back on
itself. I know how you loved your father
— how you must have loved him if
those eyes and brow and mouth speak
truth, for they tell of a nature divinely
rich and deep, giving of its wealth and
tenderness ungrudgingly to those who
are so happy as to be the objects of its
affection. To such a nature bereavement
must bring a depth and an agony of grief
unknown to shallower souls.
"I know what your father's helplessness
and need of you meant to you. I know
that now life must seem to you a broken
and embittered thing; and knowing this
I venture to send this greeting across the
gulf of strangerhood between us, telling
you that my understanding sympathy
is fully and freely yours, and bidding you
take heart for the future, which now, it
may be, looks so heartless and hopeless
to you.
"Believe me, dear lady, it will be neither.
Courage will come to you with the kind
days. You will find noble tasks to do,
beautiful and gracious duties waiting along
your path. The pain and suffering of the
world never dies, and while it lives there
will be work for such as you to do, and
in the doing of it you will find comfort and
strength and the highest joy of living. I
believe in you. I believe you will make of
your life a beautiful and worthy thing.
I give you Godspeed for the years to come.
Out of my own loneliness I, an unknown
friend, who has never clasped your hand,
send this message to you. I understand —
I have always understood — and I say
to you: 'Be of good cheer.' "
To say that this strange letter was a
mystery to me seems an inadequate way
of stating the matter. I was completely
bewildered, nor could I even guess who
the writer might be, think and ponder
as I might.
The letter itself implied that the writer
was a stranger. The handwriting was
evidently that of a man, and I knew no
man who could or would have sent such
a letter to me-
The very mystery stung me to interest.
As for the letter itself, it brought me an
uplift of hope and inspiration such as I
would not have believed possible an hour
earlier. It rang so truly and sincerely;
and the mere thought that somewhere I
had a friend who cared enough to write
it, even in such odd fashion, was so sweet
that I was half ashamed of the difference
it made in my outlook. Sitting there, I
took courage and made a compact with
myself that I would justify the writer's
faith in me — that I would take up
my life as something to be worthily lived
for all- good, to the disregard of my own
selfish sorrow and shrinking. I would
seek for something to do — for interests
which would bind me to my fellow-creatures
— for tasks which would lessen the pains
and perils of humankind. An hour before,
this would not have seemed to me possible ;
now it seemed the right and natural thing
to do.
A week later another letter came. I
welcomed it with an eagerness which I
feared was almost childish. It was a
much longer letter than the first and was
written ki quite a different strain. There
was no apology for or explanation of the
motive for writing. It was as if the letter
were merely one of a permitted and es-
tablished correspondence between old
friends. It began with a witty, sparkling
review of a new book the writer had just
I Was in tKe grip of a titter Loneliness that evening s
124
THE LETTERS
read, and passed from this to crisp com-
ments on the great events, political,
scientific, artistic, of the day. The whole
letter was pungent, interesting, delight-
ful— an impersonal essay on a dozen
vital topics of life and thought. Only
at the end was a personal note struck.
"Are you interested in these things?"
ran the last paragraph. "In what is being
done and suffered and attained in the great
busy world? I think you must be — for
I have seen you and read what is written
in your face. I believe you care for these
things as I do — that your being thrills
to the 'still, sad music of humanity' —
that the songs of the poets I love find an
echo in your spirit and the aspirations of
all struggling souls a sympathy in your
heart. Believing this, I have written
freely to you, taking a keen pleasure in
thus revealing my thought and visions
to one who will understand. For I, too,
am friendless, in the sense of one standing
alone, shut out from the sweet, intimate
communion of feeling and opinion that
may be held with the heart's friends. Shall
you have read this as a friend, I wonder —
a candid, uncritical, understanding friend?
Let me hope it, dear lady."
I was expecting the third letter when it
came — but not until it did come did
I realize what my disappointment would
have been if it had not. After that every
week brought me a letter; soon those
letters were the greatest interest in my
life. I had given up all attempts to solve
the mystery of their coming and was con-
tent to enjoy them for themselves alone.
From week to week I looked forward to
them with an eagerness that I would
hardly confess, even to myself.
And such letters as they were, growing
longer and fuller and freer as time went
on — such wise, witty, brilliant, pun-
gent letters, stimulating all my torpid
life into tingling zest! I had begun to
look abroad in my small world for worthy
work and found plenty to do. My un-
known friend evidently kept track of my
expanding efforts, for he commented and
criticized, encouraged and advised freely.
There was a humor in his letters that I
liked; it leavened them with its sanity
and reacted on me most wholesomely,
counteracting many of the morbid ten-
dencies and influences of my life. I found
myself striving to live up to the writer's
ideal of philosophy and ambition, as
pictured, often unconsciously, in his
letters.
They were an intellectual stimulant as
well. To understand them fully I found
it necessary to acquaint myself thoroughly
with the literature and art, the science
and the politics they touched upon. After
every letter there was something new for
me to hunt out and learn and assimilate,
until my old narrow mental attitude had
so broadened and deepened, sweeping
put into circles of thought I had never
known or imagined, that I hardly knew
myself.
They had been coming for a year before
I began to reply to them. I had often
wished to do so — there were so many
things I wanted to say and discuss; but
it seemed foolish to write letters that
could not be sent. One day a letter came
that kindled my imagination and stirred
my heart and soul so deeply that they
insistently demanded answering expres-
sion. I sat down at my desk and wrote
a full reply to it. Safe in the belief that
the mysterious friend to whom it was
written would never see it I wrote with a
perfect freedom and a total lack of self-
consciousness that I could never have
attained otherwise. The writing of that
letter gave me a pleasure second only to
that which the reading of his brought.
For the first time I discovered the delight
of revealing my thought unhindered by
the conventions. Also, I understood
better why the writer of those letters had
written them. Doubtless he had enjoyed
doing so and was not impelled thereto
simply by a purely philanthropic wish to
help me.
When my letter was finished I sealed it
up and locked it away in my desk with a
smile at my middle-aged folly. What,
I wondered, would all my sedate, serious
friends, my associates of mission and hos-
pital committees think if they knew. Well,
everybody has, or should have, a pet
nonsense in her life. I did not think mine
was any sillier than some others I knew;
and to myself I admitted that it was very
sweet. I knew if those letters ceased to
come all savor would go out of my life.
THE LETTERS
125
After that I wrote a reply to every letter
I received and kept them all locked up
together. It was delightful. I wrote out
all my doings and perplexities and hopes
and plans and wishes — yes, and my
dreams. The secret romance of it all made
me look on existence with joyous, con-
tented eyes.
Gradually a change crept over the letters
I received. Without ever affording the
slightest clue to the identity of their writer
they grew more intimate and personal.
A subtle, caressing note of tenderness
breathed from them and thrilled my heart
curiously. I felt as if I were being drawn
into the writer's life, admitted into the
most sacred recesses of his thoughts and
feelings. Yet it was all done so subtly,
so delicately, that I was unconscious of
the change until I discovered it in reading
over the older letters and comparing them
with the later ones.
Finally a letter came — my first love
letter; and surely never was a love letter
received under stranger circumstances.
It began abruptly as all the letters had
begun, plunging into the middle of the
writer's strain of thought without any
preface. The first words drove the blood
to my heart and then sent it flying hotly
all over my face.
"I love you. I must say it at last. Have
you not guessed it before? It has trembled
on my pen in every line I have written
to you — yet I have never dared to
shape it into words before. I know not
how I dare now. I only know that
I must. What a delight to write it out
and know that you will read it. Tonight
the mood is on me to tell it to you recklessly
and lavishly, never pausing to stint or
weigh words. Sweetheart, I love you —
love you — love you — dear, true, faith-
ful woman soul, I love you with all the
heart of a man.
"Ever since I first saw you I have loved
you. I can never come to tell you so in
spoken words; I can only love you from
afar and tell my love under the guise of
impersonal friendship. It matters not
to you, but it matters more than all
else in life to me. I am glad that I love
you, dear — glad, glad, glad."
There was much more, for it was a long
letter. When I had read it I buried my
burning face in my hands, trembling with
happiness. This strange confession of
love meant so much to me; my heart
leaped forth to meet it with answering
love. What mattered it that we could
never meet — that I could not even
guess who my lover was? Somewhere in
the world was a love that was mine alone
and mine wholly and mine forever. What
mattered his name or his station, or the
mysterious barrier between us? Spirit
leaped to spirit unhindered over the fet-
tering bounds of matter and time. I loved
and was beloved. Nothing else mattered.
I wrote my 'answer to his letter. I
wrote it fearlessly and unstintedly. Per-
haps I could not have written so freely
if the letter were to have been read by
him; as it was, I poured out the riches of
my love as fully as he had done. I kept
nothing back, and across the gulf between
us I vowed a faithful and enduring love
in response to his.
The next day I went to town on business
with my lawyers. Neither of the members
of the firm was in when I called, but I
was an old client, and one of the clerks
showed me into the private office to wait.
As I sat down my eyes fell on a folded
letter lying on the table beside me. With
a shock of surprise I recognized the writing.
I could not tje mistaken — I should have
recognized it anywhere.
The letter was lying by its envelope, so
folded that only the middle third of the
page was visible. An irresistible impulse
swept over me. Before I could reflect
that I had no business to touch the letter,
that perhaps it was unfair to my
unknown friend to seek to discover his
identity when he wished to hide it, I
had turned the letter over and seen the
signature.
I laid it down again and stood up, dizzy,
breathless, unseeing. Like a woman in
a dream I walked through the outer office
and into the street. I must have walked
on for blocks before I became conscious of
my surroundings. The name I had seen
signed to that letter was Alan Eraser!
No doubt the reader has long ago guessed
it — has wondered why I had not. The
fact remains that I had not. Out of the
whole world Alan Eraser was the last man
whom I should have suspected to be the
126
THE LETTERS
writer of those letters — Alan Fraser,
my hereditary enemy, who, I had been
told, cherished the old feud so faithfully
and bitterly, and hated our very name.
And yet I now wondered at my long
blindness. No one else could have written
those letters — no one but him. I read
them over one by one when I reached home
and, now that I possessed the key, he
revealed himself in every line, expression,
thought. And he loved me !
I thought of the old feud and hatred,
I thought of my pride and traditions.
They seemed like the dust and ashes of
outworn things — things to be smiled
at and cast aside. I took out all the letters
I had written — all except the last
one — sealed them up in a parcel and
directed it to Alan Fraser. Then, sum-
moning my groom, 1 bade him ride to
Glenellyn with it. His look of amazement
almost made me laugh; but after he was
gone I felt dizzy and frightened at my own
daring.
When the autumn darkness came down
I went to my room and dressed as the
woman dresses who awaits the one man
of all the world. I hardly knew what I
hoped or expected; but I was all athrill
with a nameless, inexplicable happiness.
I admit I looked very eagerly into the
mirror when I was done, ^nd I thought
that the result was not unpleasing. Beauty
had never been mine, but a faint reflection
of it came over me in the tremulous flush
and excitement of the moment. Then
the maid came up to tell me that Alan
Fraser was in the library.
I went down with my cold hands tightly
clasped behind me. He was standing by
the library table, a tall, broad-shouldered
man, with the light striking upward on
his dark, sensitive face and iron-gray hair.
When he saw me he came quickly forward.
"So you know — and you are not
angry — your letters told me so much.
I have loved you since that day in the
beechwood, Isobel — Isobel —
His eyes were kindling into mine. He
held my hands in a close, impetuous clasp.
His voice was infinitely caressing as he
pronounced my name. I had never heard
it since father died — I had never
heard it at all so musically and tenderly
uttered. My ancestors might have turned
in their graves just then — but it
mattered not. Living love had driven
out dead hatred.
"Isobel," he went on, "there was one
letter unanswered — the last."
I went to my desk, took out the last
letter I had written and gave i£ to him in
silence. While he read it I stood in a
shadowy corner and watched him, wonder-
ing if life could always be as sweet as this.
When he had finished he turned to me
and held out his arms. I went to them
as a bird to her nest, and with his lips
against mine the old feud was blotted out
forever.
PLUCK WINS
Pluck wins! It always wins! though days be slow
And nights be dark 'twixt days that come and go.
Still pluck will win; its average is sure;
He gains the prize who will the most endure ;
Who faces issues ; he who never shirks ;
Who waits and watches, and who always works.
—From "Heart Throbs.''
MONTH
ITH late fall
birds of song soar
southward in search
of a warmer clime; but not so
the * 'song-birds" of musical records. Their
pilgrimages have been made months be-
fore in order that their new songs may
be ready in the season of "fireside eve-
nings." It was in sultry August that
Madame Melba, the far-famed opera
soprano, left her abode on the continent
and took up a residence at a little inn near
Philadelphia, for convenience in prepar-
ing the winter roles for the Victor public.
Nor was this an unique situation; most
of the records for the winter must neces-
sarily be made during the summer, and
vice versa. Except on special occasions,
from four to six months are required to
put a new record on the market. The
selection must be sung into the recording
machine satisfactorily, and pass a severe
criticism on the part of an efficient musical
board before being placed in the mould
for record-making. Furthermore, there
is the gigantic problem of distribution;
and the arrangement whereby every
phonograph owner in every part of the
country is able to have the new records
at precisely the same moment, requires
time and some hard "planning.
* * *
A really good piano record is an achieve-
ment, on the phonograph. Emilio Murillo,
the South American composer, has en-
tered into a contract with the Columbia
company that promises to set a new pace
in this field of endeavor. "Leonor," a
polka, and "High Life," two-step, are his
own compositions, and he plays them with
a master hand.
One of the old "Sunday night
singers" at the Manhattan,
Francesco Daddi, has made his
initial bow to the Columbia audience in
one of the old Neapolitan songs that did so
much to pave his way toward Grand
Opera.
It is some time since I have heard the
Archibald Brothers, the peerless Indiana
quartet, who sing so exquisitely without
accompaniment. The Columbia people,
discovering their talent, engaged them for
a series of selections. I hope that those
to come will be as well rendered as
"Juanita" and ."The Two Roses."
Among the stage favorites, Miss Grace
La Rue is one of the latest to join the ranks
of "phonograph singers." She made
her great success last season in "Molly
May," from which two selections this
month are taken. "Clap Hands," and
"Does Anybody Here Know Nancy?"-
of the "Kelly" variety are recorded in
excellent shape.
Kitty Cheatham has a following all
her own — and it's universal at that.
"Scandalize My Name," "Sat'dy Night"
and "Georgia Buck" (with top-notch
banjo accompaniment) are charming little
negro songs. Miss Cheatham can recite,
too— Dunbar's "When Malindy Sings"
proves it conclusively.
No. A897 is one of the records you are
sure to buy. One can't deny that "Any
Little Girl, That's a Nice Little Girl, is
'the Right Little Girl for Me," and "I've
Got the Time, I've Got the Place, But
It's Hard to Find the Girl," areJ
songs of the day; and they go very well
on double disc — catchy words, airs, elon-
gated titles and all.
(127)
128
MUSICAL RECORDS FOR THE MONTH
The "semi-high class" ballad has made
a host of friends since its advent not so
long ago. This shouldn't convey the im-
pression that our tastes are deteriorating,
either; for the "semi-high class" is quite in
a field by itself, and should be accorded
a more dignified and adequate title.
Ball and Ingraham have been largely re-
sponsible for its success, and "You are the
Ideal of My Dreams," Mr. Ingraham 's
latest ballad, is featured by the Victor
people, along with its singer, George
Carre, who is new to the Victor ranks. '
Fifty-five measures to the minute, de-
cided the National Association of Masters
of Dancing at their annual meeting, is
the correct waltz tempo, and the edict will
be generally observed throughout the
country at "correct" affairs. The Victor
company has put out a ten-inch double-
disc in the new time especially to put
folks in practice with the proper speed,
and they're to be thanked for it. Two
of the most popular dance waltzes have
been chosen — the "Cupid Astray" and
"Garden of Dreams," and the Victor
Dance Orchestra, with Walter B. Rogers
conducting, have done admirable work.
A novel creation is that "Humorous
Variations on a German Folk Song," by
Wollweber. A little German folk song has
been rendered according to the much
varied styles of the greatest composers —
Bach, Gounod, Strauss and Wagner. An
educative novelty is this; in getting an
exaggeration of the different styles of the
famous four, you can't help but gain some
knowledge of their characteristics. The
record is numbered 31796, and played by
Arthur Pryor's Band.
Of course, when Edmond Rostand's
"Chantecleer" was heralded far and wide,
most people prepared for scores of "rooster"
compositions from the agressive American
song- writer. Only a few of them, fortu-
nately, have found any favor at all with
the publishers. Lampe has put forth a
"Chantecleer March" which is really
good — quite as high class, in fact, as any
of the Lampe compositions.
The Victor people are particularly
"sot up" this month over the "Second
Chausseurs March" by the famous Garde
Republicaine Band of France. The or-
ganization is about a hundred strong, and
it ranks among the best bands in the world.
Personally, I don't think they have any-
thing "on" our own -United States Marine
Band, but their work is certainly mag-
nificent.
The two Ring records, the violin
numbers by Kreisler and Miss Powell,
ballads by McCormack and Mme.
Alda, not forgetting George Hamlin's two
new records, are all deserving of more
than passing mention. There are songs,
too — any number of good ones; in short,
the Victor list for October furnishes a
genuine treat.
* * *
Rostand, some people forget, has com-
posed real drama. "L'Aiglon" is such, and
the Edison people have very aptly selected
its thrilling climax, "La Plaine de Wagram"
as an amberol record for the month.
Mme. Sarah Bernhardt is the artist, and
the recording is admirable.
The grand opera list is especially re-
plete— the mere mention of Carmen Melis,
Karl Jorn, Marie Delna, Giovanni Polese
and Florencio Constantino awakens an
expectation of all that is sublime in the
operatic world.
One never tires of the old songs, and
the Edison people have faithfully listed
one or two every month, often introduc-
ing their new singers in this way to ensure
for them a cordial reception. Here, then,
is "Auld Lang Syne," as a soprano solo
by Miss Marie Narelle, whom the Edison
people have secured under exclusive con-
tract. The number is 525.
Jere Sanford doesn't wait for any sort
of introduction; he goes through a series of
whistles, yodles and snatches from pa-
triotic songs so fast one has to put the
record on again half a dozen times.
The Knickerbocker Quartet has made
an enviable name for itself in the ren-
dition of inspiring music. October lists
both an amberol and a standard record —
"Fading, Still Fading" and "Oft in the
Stilly Night."
Billy Murray, Edward M. Favor, Col-
lins and Harlan and the other artists on
whom we depend to keep us lively, are
all listed in popular songs ; Len Spencer has
gone in for sustained work and has himself
arranged a record on the illustrated song
idea, "Mamma's Boy."
THE MAN WHOSE DREAM
Q CAME TRUE 0
By C. L. ANDE
world at large, interested in
the romantic development of
Florida in a way the world per-
haps has never before been inter-
ested in the development of any single
State, is prone to give the entire credit for
the wonderful upbuilding of the beauti-
ful land oC flowers and sunshine to such
men as Flagler, Plant, and those other
early pioneers* who laid the steel rails
of industrial conquest across the limitless
expanse of thev Peninsula State.
And these men certainly deserve all the
credit they receive, for without the rail-
road the Florida of today would still be a
picturesque paradise, abounding in all man-
ner of fish and game, and with a climate
surpassed nowhere
in the world, but a
land withal that
would occupy no im-
portant role in the
great empire of com-
mercialism that has
been built up on the
new continent.
But there are oth-
er men — the men
who have paved the
way for the great
stream of immigra-
tion that is now turn-
ing to Florida from
all corners of this
great land — who
must be given their
share of credit for
wrhat has been and is
being accomplished
in Florida's econom-
ic upbuilding — the
men who have con-
verted Florida from
a teeming wilderness
One
SENATOR GEORGE W. BEEN, "THE MAN
WHO SOLD FLORIDA"
to a veritable empire of small farms,
of these is Senator George W. Deen.
As the first real estate operator to turn
his attention to the Florida field, Senator
Deen is truly the pioneer of Florida de-
velopment. He has been called, indeed,
"the man who sold Florida," because of
the tremendous work he has accom-
plished in laying out and peopling with
sturdy settlers thousands upon thousands
of acres of Florida lands.
It was Senator Deen who first realized
that Florida, with her limited population,
could be developed only by peopling her
vast areas of tillable land with people
from the North and West. And Senator
Deen put this theory into practice with no
trepidation or hesi-
tancy, for he had an
abiding faith in the
possibilities of Flori-
da, and like all true
pioneers he could
look into the future
and realize the ulti-
mate. And the ulti-
mate to the Senator
was the Florida of
today.
The success of
Senator Deen's in-
itial experiment was
as pronounced as it
was immediate. In
a little over a calen-
dar month he had
sold thirty thousand
acres of land to eigh-
teen hundred people
throughout the
United States. This
was the famous
colony of St. John's
Park, which is now
THE MAN WHOSE DREAM CAME TRUE
the recognized prototype of successful
Florida development.
Senator Deen, having played his part
in laying the foundation for the future
Florida, last year determined to turn his
attention from that State to fulfil what
had been the dream of his youth — the
peopling of his home state, the state which
he and his fathers had loved and served so
well. In leaving Florida, however, Senator
Deen made no marked change in his plan
of operation, for the part of Georgia in
facturing industries that include the lar-
gest railroad shops in the United States
and represent an investment of five mil-
lion dollars; with two of the largest
cypress plants in the South ; with a single
railroad system that pays over two mil-
lion dollars annually in wages; with a
splendid system of education, embracing
normal, high and public school instruc-
tion, and possessing, in the Bunn-Bell
Institute, one of the finest denominational
colleges in the South; with well-paved
CORNER OF PACKING HOUSE OF A. F. MOOR & SONS, WAYCROSS, GA.
These farmers shipped entire crop of 50 acres of cantaloupes at net profit of over $200 an acre
which he lives has everything in common,
both as to climate and topography, with
the part of Florida in .the upbuilding of
which he was so closely identified.
The scene of Senator Deen's present
operations is Waycross, Georgia, one of
the Empire State's most prosperous manu-
facturing towns, and a town in the de-
velopment of which the Senator has played
an important part.
With a present population of over
fourteen thousand inhabitants — an in-
crease of nearly three hundred per cent in
the last decade — with established manu-
streets, up-to-date water and sewerage
systems, electric lights, churches of all
denominations, daily and weekly news-
papers, and all those other conveniences
peculiar to the American city of today,
it seems almost impossible of belief that
Waycross less than thirty years ago was
to all intents and purposes an indefinable
part of the great pine belt of Georgia
that at that time had little value even for
its magnificent supply of timber.
And the only explanation for the re-
markable transformation can be found in
the work of such men as Senator Deen,
THE MAN WHOSE DREAM CAME TRUE
Captain H. H. Tift, and other pioneers,
who, prompted by no selfish motive, have
lent their fortunes and their best efforts
to the development of the country they
loved, knowing that in the end their
labor would not have been in vain.
As has been said Senator Deen's one
great ambition is the peopling of the lands
of Ware County and the upbuilding of
an even greater Way cross.
With this end in view, the Senator put
on last November, and is just closing the
in all the South no other place was better
adapted for rapid development. He knew
that Way cross was the strategical gate-
way to Florida, every train from the
Middle West and most of those from the
North passing through its gates. lie
knew that no less than seven different
trunk lines iced their refrigerator cars
at Way cross. He realized the enormous
advantages that would be enjoyed by
the trucker and the farmer, not only
on account of a good home market, not
DEMONSTRATION DAY AND OLD-FASHIONED GEORGIA BARBECUE
At Senator Deen's Deenwood Farm home "Maryland," on May 19, 1910, given especially for Deenwood Farm
purchasers and homeseekers. Over 1,000 guests were present
sale of, Deenwood Farms— a 40,000 acre
tract of ten acre truck farms.
Next month he will open for develop-
ment 60,000 acres of land south and east
of Waycross. This development is known
as Deen Land Farms.
With the true spirit of helpfulness,
Senator Deen is selling his land on monthly
payments covering a number of years, so
that a home in sunny Georgia is now in
the reach of every man.
In selecting Waycross as the site of
Deenwood and Deen Land Farms the
Senator made no mistake. He knew that
only on account of its contiguity to
Savannah, Jacksonville, and other good
trading points, but more especially on ac-
count of the extraordinary freight -rate
advantages that it enjoyed over other
points to the country's great centres of
consumption.
In the creation of Deen Land Farms,
however, Senator Deen realized -that cheap
and ready transportation to the great
markets of the country, contiguity to a
thriving manufacturing center, ideal lo-
cation, and an unsurpassed climate were
not the only essentials to the success of
THE MAN WHOSE DREAM CAME TRUE
his great undertaking. Above all must
come the quality of the soil.
And in selecting the site of his great
colony the Senator had this cardinal
requisite — the quality of the soil — always
in view. That is why Deen Land Farms
is as fertile a tract of land as can be found
in the entire South, and that is why every
Deen Land colonist will be assured suc-
cess from the outset.
Deen Land Farms is situated in the
most favored section of Ware County,
Sea island and short staple cotton will
produce as well as anywhere in the South ;
corn that would do credit to Indiana,
yielding from 60 to 120 bushels as one of
two crops on the same land in the same
year, grows to a special advantage; oats
that might grace a Vermont farm, velvet
beans, peanuts, sugar cane, all manner of
market produce, such as Irish and sweet
potatoes, celery, cabbage, cauliflower, let-
tuce and tomatoes, peaches, pears, plums,
strawberries and all the other small fruits;
'LADY BOUNTIFUL" AT THE DEEN LAND FARMS OLD-FASHIONED GEORGIA BARBECUE
A concrete example of the agricultural and horticultural possibilities of Ware County
the banner county of South Georgia,
commonly known as the heart of the
Wire Grass country, an agricultural acre
that has been defined by the United
States Department of Agriculture as hav-
ing one of the best futures of any section
of the entire United States.
Ware County, on account of its regular
rainfall, delightfully equable climate, lack
of noxious insect life, and above all its
fertile soil is indeed the garden spot of
the empire state of the South. Its lands
can grow in luxuriant profusion, all of
the chief staple crops that have made
the South famous throughout the world.
in fact, practically every fruit of the earth,
except those of an essentially citrus na-
ture, are numbered in the harvest that
Lady Bountiful brings to Ware County.
The future of Deen Land Farms is
assured beyond perad venture. Their fer-
tility of soil, their nearness to Waycross,
their peculiar position in relation to the
great markets of the East and West, all
combine to make it the Holland of America.
Indeed one has to be no prophet to see
that the time is not far distant when the
vision of Senator George W. Deen will be
no longer a dream to be realized but a
dream come true.
TH E OPEN
MAKING A HOME MARKET FOR THE TRUCKER
By R. T. STEARNS
/~\F the many problems that confront
^^ the new settler in Florida no one is
more vital than the successful marketing
of his crop. Florida's soil and climate
will produce as good crops as can be
grown anywhere in the United States,
and maturing at a season when a great
portion of the country is under a blanket
of snow and the remainder agriculturally
dormant, should be eminently more profit-
able than those of any other section.
But good crops do not necessarily spell
success in Florida. The difficulties of
transportation — embracing long hauls to
market, high freight rates and avaricious
commission men — all help to make the
problem of profitable crop disposal a
more intricate one. A profitable market
for all he can produce is the great de-
sideratum of the Florida trucker.
An innovation that seems destined to
fill this longfelt want has recently been
introduced in one of Florida's small farm
colonies. This colony is known as Mag-
nolia Springs, and is a subdivision in Clay
County, on the St. John's River, four miles
from the little town of Green Cove Springs,
and eighteen miles from Jacksonville.
The innovation referred to is a new
process of vegetable evaporation, which
will utilize all that portion of the trucker's
crop that he cannot profitably ship to
distant markets and will permit him to
continue the operation of a farm through-
out the year.
This new process of vegetable evapora-
tion is the discovery of Mr. A. F. Spawn,
a chemist of note and for seven years a
scientific expert for Australia. Mr. Spawn
has done much to further agriculture, both
in this country and in the antipodes.
When he went to Australia that country
was importing practically all the butter
it consumed; when he left that land to
return to his na'tive soil, America, Australia
was exporting hundreds of thousands of
tons of this commodity to foreign markets
— the direct result of Mr. Spawn's work
in the field of irrigation.
The Spawn process of vegetable evapora-
tion is one of the most revolutionary dis-
coveries of the age. It differs radically
from the old methods now in use, in that
while taking out all of the eighty odd per
cent of water that is contained in every
vegetable, it does not destroy either its
texture or flavor. All the housewife has
to do is to soak the dried vegetable in
water for a few hours and it will return
to its former condition and be in practi-
cally every sense a new vegetable.
Mr. Spawn has also discovered a method
of manufacturing a first-class flour from
the sweet potato in combination with
wheat, but using only about one-third
of the latter. This will be of peculiar
advantage to the trucker, because the
manufacturer will be able to pay him at
least forty cents a bushel for his sweet
potatoes and make a good profit.
As a third crop sweet potatoes will
produce from two hundred to four hun-
dred bushels an acre, which, at the rate
referred to, would net the trucker more
to the acre than the most prolific wheat
field of the West. He would still have the
first two crops on the same land.
The first vegetable evaporation plant is
now in operation at Magnolia Springs,
and the president of this colony, Mr.
J. J. McNamara, is arranging for the erec-
tion of other plants at an early date.
The experiment will be watched with
interest.
£anb of tfje jUanatce
COME TIME ago the Florida-Manatee Company, which is in-
corporated under the laws of the State of Florida, purchased six-
teen thousand acres of land near the Manatee River, known as the
Covington tract. For many years this has been turpentined and,
therefore, has not been available for colonization purposes. The
new company proposes, however, to make up for lost time and has cut
the property up into 1,600 tracts of ten acres each. These they pro-
pose to sell on an unique and very economical basis. In fact the plan
is absolutely new so far as it affects the general public and as for the
development of Florida, no plan has been suggested which will do as
much to popularize the state as the plan contemplated by the Florida-
Manatee Company.
For approximately $580 cash outlay, spread over four years, anyone
can own a bearing grapefruit grove under the plan adopted by the
Florida-Manatee people. Their proposition is so different from the
average proposition that it is worth giving in detail, for under this
basis of operation, for what one would pay for raw land, one gets a
bearing grapefruit grove in four or five years. The plan is as follows :
Those who can visit the land, personally, can select a ten-acre tract
for one hundred dollars down and one dollar an acre a month there-
after. For those who, cannot personally select the land, the company
will make allotments. The company takes the money received from
the sale of the land and invests it in clearing the land, plowing it,
fencing it and planting eight acres with the best grapefruit trees,
sixty-nine to the acre. This will be done as soon as possible for the
very good reason that the quicker the groves are in bearing, the quicker
the company gets its money as will be seen presently. On the basis
outlined above, each of the groves will contain 552 trees. Daring
the third year, planting these trees should produce one-half box of
grapefruit each, which at two dollars a box would bring $552. The
fourth year, on a conservative estimate, 552 trees should produce two
boxes each or 1,104 boxes, which at two dollars a box should produce
$2,208. Therefore, it will be seen that the grove will produce the third
and fourth years a gross of $2,730. Allowing for fertilizer, labor and
expense for caring for the fruit, the amount credited on the land will
be certainly not less than $1,500. As the grove is sold for a total oi:
two thousand dollars and in the four years mentioned the purchaser
has paid one hundred dollars down and $120 for each of the four years,
or a total of $580, the grove would then produce in that time enough
fruit to complete the payments and turn the property over to the
purchaser with a clear title fully paid and unencumbered. In all
probability, although the company does not guarantee it, there will
be in addition to this an amount of cash for the customer equal to
the difference between the total amount realized and the amount
credited on the balance due for the land less the cost of raising and
caring for the crop.
One of the strongest and most carefully managed banks in the
State of Florida, The Citizens Bank & Trust Company, is trustee
for the funds paid in for the land of the Florida- Manatee Company.
All payments are made to this trustee, and on the first payment, a
warranty deed is deposited with the bank by t'he Florida-Manatee
Company. When the payments are completed, this deed, giving
clear title without encumbrances, is turned over to the purchaser of
the property by the Citizens Bank & Trust Company. The plan is
so carefully guarded, so far as the purchaser is concerned, that no
one need hesitate to invest in this proposition.
At the Company's offices in Tampa thousands of inquiries re-
garding their plans have been received. Nearly everyone that knows
anything about Florida wants a grapefruit or orange grove. The
trouble has been, heretofore, that many were not in a position to leave
their business and found it impossible to buy the land and have it
developed for them at a reasonable figure while they still remained
in their places and continued to receive an income from their labor
until the grove was producing an income. Under the plans of the
Florida- Manatee Company that is absolutely obviated and hundreds
upon hundreds of people throughout the country are signifying their
desire to embrace an opportunity that they have looked for for many
years but have never seen before.
Everyone who knows anything about Florida knows the wonderful
success of the grapefruit culture in Manatee County, particularly
the Atwood grove of 230 acres, which has made a phenomenal record
as an earning property. The editor of the Fruit Grower, a publica-
tion of national circulation of St. Joseph, Missouri, who was in Florida
recently, wrote of Manatee County:
"While more attention has been given to planting oranges than
to any other branch of fruit culture, other citrus fruits do especially
well here and are very profitable. Grapefruit, for instance, grows to
perfection, and finds ready sale at very profitable prices. Lemons
have been planted to some extent, and the culture of pineapples is
increasing very rapidly. Protected as it is, as has been explained,
Manatee County offers exceptional advantages for growing these
tender fruits. The soil and the climate are right, and trees which
have been planted have been so profitable that the success of the
industry is assured. The quality of the fruit produced is not surpassed
by that grown anywhere."
The Florida-Manatee Company's tract runs well up toward
the Hillsboro County line and is about thirty-five or forty miles by
automobile south from Tampa, lying north of the Manatee River.
The ground is all high, being from thirty to thirty-five feet above sea
level, and perfectly drained. All of the land is underlaid by artesian
water and the original tract consisted of something like twenty thou-
sand acres and has given abundant demonstration of the value of
this land for grapefruit and orange culture. There are something
like fifty groves in bearing on this property, all of which are either
adjoining or surrounded by the property of the Florida-Manatee
Company. One of the principal groves in this section is that owned
by Mr. M. V. Huyler of New York who has four hundred acres com-
pletely surrounded by the Florida-Manatee property. The great
advantage, of course, of this section in Manatee County is that it is
below the frost line and free from all danger of this sort.
A few years ago, F. W. Fitzpatrick, a government employee
at Washington, visited Manatee County and published the following:
"In 1895 and again this year, the citrus crops of northern Florida —
those not protected by their owners — were frozen and turned out a
complete failure. The Manatee District, being south of the twenty-
eighth parallel, escaped those chilling blights, and in fact, as well as
in theory, it is in the frost-proof zone."
Theodore Roosevelt, former President of the United States, in
a letter written to Charles H. Davis, Petersburg, Virginia, under date
of August 16, says:
"No part of our country has seen such progress as the South
has made in the last twenty years along material lines; and I believe
the next twenty years will see a greater progress.
"For long, the eyes of this nation have been set steadily west-
ward to watch its great and typical growth. From now on I think
the South will share with the West in rapidity of growth. This leader-
ship will be hastened by the completion of the Panama canal ; the East
has the Atlantic and the West, the Pacific ; the South even more than
the East, and West will have the Panama canal, and will, therefore,
stand at the distributing point of all the great oceans of the world."
For further information address the editor of the National
Magazine, or the Florida-Manatee Company, Tampa, Florida.
A MODERN ARCADIA
By MITCHELL MANNERING
T ESS than fifteen miles from the beau-
••— ' tiful city of Jacksonville, the gateway
to Florida and its commercial metropolis,
and some twenty odd miles from quaint
old St. Augustine, just where the stately
St. John's turns with one long, last sweep
toward the mighty Atlantic, there lies
in picturesque seclusion the fertile, beau-
tiful valley of the St. John's.
Mr. Sidney C. Wood, by purchasing
twenty thousand acres of its lands, and
opening up to settlement Sidwood Farms
has made possible for the first time a
comprehensive development of this fertile
valley.
Mr. Wood is no stranger to Florida.
Born in Polk County, and educated in his
native state and in Georgia, he has been
identified for years with the various move-
ments to develop the. great inherent
wealth of Florida. Although he has been
an exile from his state for some years, he
has never lost touch of its affairs, and
much of this labor as president of the
Wood-Loudon Company, of New York
City, one of the representative real estate
corporations of that city, has been in the
direction of attracting capital and immi-
gration to the shores of Florida.
Mr. Wood, by the way, is still a com-
paratively young man, and will, there-
fore, be well able to carry to successful
consummation the great work he has
undertaken.
In an interview with the writer in his
palatial offices in the Bisbee building,
Jacksonville's most modern sky-scraper,
Mr. Wood, president of the Florida
Homeseekers' Corporation, spoke as fol-
lows concerning the great enterprise he
has in hand:
"While I am a Floridian by birth, I
have been in the North for a number of
years, and during my sojourn there I have
had many occasions to see the evolution
of the small farm idea in the great Eastern
centers of population.
"It was the success of the small farm
idea in Long Island that first directed
my attention toward the possibilities of
ON .THE WAY TO SIDWOOD FARNS
A MODERN ARCADIA
a similar, if not a more profitable, develop-
ment in my own state — Florida. I knew
that, producing at a time of the year when
Long Island and for that matter, the entire
North and West was under a blanket of
ice and snow, Florida would offer a far
greater measure of success than any other
section of the United States.
"I chose Jacksonville for the immediate
scene of my operations because I realized
SIDNEY C. WOOD
President of the Florida Homeseekers' Corporation
that as the metropolis of and the gateway
to Florida, as one of the first maritime
harbors of the country, as the terminus
of eight great transportation systems, as
the most rapidly growing center of the
entire South, and as an important winter
tourist resort, it was bound to offer a ready
and profitable market to the trucker, who,
with such an important home field, would
be entirely independent of the exigencies
of market.
"In selecting the site of Sidwood
Farms, I know that our company has made
no mistake. I was born in Florida, and
I speak with no egotism when I say that
I am thoroughly acquainted with every
actual existing condition in the state. I
have visited practically every agricul-
tural community in Florida, and, for that
matter, almost every state in the South,
and have personally examined the soil
conditions of thousands upon thousands
of acres of land, and can say with truth
and confidence that I know of no better
soil in the state of Florida for general
farming and trucking purposes than is
found in the body of land that the Florida
Homeseekers' Corporation has selected for
its big colony."
"Upon what lines does your company
intend to develop Sidwood Farms?" asked
the writer of Mr. Wood.
"That question is a little difficult to
answer. I may say, however, that Sid-
wood Farms will be developed along con-
servative and permanent lines. Our first
consideration will be the future success
of the settler. We do not want to be
classed among that class of real-estate
promoters whose one object is the dis-
posal of their land. We believe that any
man who has it in him to make good can
find certain success in Florida, but we are
not one of those concerns who pretend
that a man can find success in Florida
without a dollar. Who would think of
going to the Northwest or any strange
community to court success on the farm
with merely the purchase price of that
farm in his possession?
"Among the plans that we hope to
evolve for the comfort and welfare of
the settler? on Sidwood Farms," continued
Mr. Wood, "and the general upbuilding
of the colony, are a truckers' association,
to look after the harvesting and marketing
of the crop; an experimental farm, which
will be conducted solely for the benefit
of the settlers and will be a free institu-
tion; an automobile truck system to the
city of Jacksonville, which will permit
the settlers to readily market their pro-
ducts, and the foundation of a number of
other permanent institutions which will
make for the success and happiness of
every resident on our land."
MONUMENT TO FLORIDA PROGRESS
*
By F. L. STANLEY
TN analyzing the remarkable economic
*• and industrial transformation that Flori-
da is now undergoing, one is bound to rec-
ognize the great factors that have made
this transformation a living possibility,
and, in so doing, to concede to them their
due measure of recognition for the vital
part they have played in the upbuilding of
their state.
An institution that has been a very
important factor in this transformation
is the Jacksonville Development Company,
the largest realty corporation in Florida,
and one of the strongest in the entire
South.
Founded only five years, and starting
in a modest way, this company has grad-
ually extended its operations until today,
with total assets of over a million dollars,
a surplus of five hundred thousand, and
a clientele that embraces nearly five
thousand people in all parts of the United
States and Canada, it has become a recog-
nized hallmark of Florida success.
In interpreting the remarkable success
of the Jacksonville Development Com-
pany, one finds that that success has been
conditioned on two things — a progressive
policy of management, and an honest
regard for the welfare of its patrons.
When the company was organized few
believed that its success would be so cer-
tain and rapid as its founders predicted,
for there were many older and stronger
companies in the field. But the doubting
Thomases were soon silenced. Not con-
tent to follow in the wake of the older com-
panies, no matter what success might have
attended their efforts, the Jacksonville
Development Company proceeded to hew
out its own way to success, conducting
its business along lines that though con-
servative were revolutionary compared
with the then accepted order of things.
At that time comparatively little real
estate in Jacksonville or vicinity was
owned by the small property holder, and
the company, recognizing the possibilities
that this field, properly developed, offered,
bought up a number of large tracts of
land in and around the city and com-
menced to develop them for the benefit
of the wage-earner, inaugurating a monthly
installment plan of payment, waiving
claim to interest on deferred payments,
and undertaking to assume all taxes until
the passing of title.
This was certainly a startling departure
for a Southern institution, but its success
was instantaneous, and that it has been
sustained is shown by the fact that since
its organization the Jacksonville Develop-
ment Company has developed no less than
fifty different suburban properties, and
assisted over a thousand wage earners to
become property owners.
A MONUMENT TO FLORIDA PROGRESS
Some of these developments, such as
Grand Park, Murray Hill Heights, Semi-
nole Gardens, Highland Estates, River-
side Gardens and Riverside Villas, are
well known far beyond the limits of
Jacksonville — have, indeed, become the
recognized prototypes of the successful
suburban development in many Southern
cities — and all have become well-developed
sections of Florida's chief metropolis.
For three or four years the Jacksonville
Development Company confined its efforts
to the upbuilding of its home city, and it
was only when the management had satis-
fied itself that there was a substantial
economic reason for a comprehensive
broadening out of the company's policy
that it entered the field of colonization.
In the few years that have intervened,
however, this company has done more,
perhaps, than any other single institution
to advertise the resources and economic
advantages of the Peninsula State to the
people of the world. It has truly lived up
to its name; indeed, its efforts have been
so pronounced and so successful that it
might well lay claim to the title — the
Development Company of Florida.
And in advertising the resources of the
stateTthe Jacksonville Development Com-
panyjhas not resorted to any of the methods
of exaggeration or misrepresentation that
are supposed to be part and parcel of the
land promotion business. They have told
the story of Florida to the world in an
instructive and interesting way; have
pictured glowingly the wonderful climate
and the beautiful scenery of the State;
have done all in their power to attract
the settler to the land of flowers — but in
so doing it has been always conservative,
always moderate, always frank; warning
the prospective buyer that success in
Florida was conditioned upon hard work
as it is everywhere; pointing out the pit-
falls and difficulties; doing everything
possible to promote the welfare of the
settler.
The welfare of the settler, that truly
has been the keynote of the constructive
policy of the Jacksonville Development
Company. "Come and see for yourself,"
it has said, "and if you are not satisfied,
then we will refund every penny you have
paid into the coffers of this company."
In addition to this, the company has tar-
ried out the same policy with the farm
settler in regard to easy payments,* non-
interest on deferred payments, and no
taxation until the land has been paid for
in full and the title passed, as it has in
the case of the wage-earner of Jackson-
ville who purchased land in one or other
of its suburban developments. It has also
made it a rule to share its profits with
its patrons, and it is to this progressive
and upright policy that must be attributed
the fact that today it has not a single dis-
satisfied patron.
The officers of the Jacksonville Develop-
ment Company are all men of integrity
and standing in the state.
The president, Judge W. B. Owen, is
one of the leading jurists of the South, and
a prominent financier, being vice-presi-
dent of the Commercial Bank of Jackson-
ville, and a stockholder and director in
a number of other Florida corporations.
The secretary and treasurer, and the
real inspiration behind the remarkable
success of this company is Mr. James A.
Hollomon. Mr. Hollomon is one of the
best business men in the South. Com-
mencing life as a newspaper man, he
gradually worked himself up in that
profession until he became editor in turn
of a number of leading papers, including
the Atlanta Journal and The Jacksonville
Times-Union. Mr. Hollomon is a man
who has a wonderful insight into the
future when it conies to making an im-
portant move. Like the scientific chess
player, he can very easily see sixteen to
twenty moves ahead — that is why the
Jacksonville Development Company stands
where it does today among the business
institutions of the country.
No better illustration of the intelligent
and successful management of the Jack-
sonville Development Company could be
adduced than the fact that during its
whole term of life it has paid an annual
dividend of ten per cent to its four thou-
sand stockholders.
The Tampa Bay Land Company, of
Tampa, Florida, with branch offices at
Chicago and Minneapolis, is a subsidiary
corporation to the Jacksonville Develop-
ment Company, and Mr. Hollomon is
its president.
ONE YEAR OF TAFT PROSPERITY
By C. L. ANDE
""THIS is not, as its title might indicate,
•*• a review of the first year's adminis-
tration of President Taft, but the story
of the marvelous growth and develop-
ment of a beautiful little town in the fertile
Kissimmee Valley of South Florida that
bears the name of the chief executive of
the United States.
Less than a year ago an undefinable
part of the great pine forest of South
Florida, its site unmarked, its existence
barely dreamed of, Taft today — with its
many fine residences, its up-to-date electric
lighted hotel, its two-story schoolhouse,
its large saw-mill, and its substantial
stores — is the happy home of nearly a
thousand people.
And the growth of Taft is as permanent
as it has been marvelous. Not one of
those towns that spring up today to dis-
appear tomorrow, with no excuse for its
having been, Taft — the capital town and
strategical center of Prosper Colony —
is erected on the solid foundations of per-
manence and thrift.
Beyond question, Prosper Colony is
the most substantial development in
Florida, the fertility of its lands, their
perfect natural drainage, its contiguity
to the markets of the world, its perfect
topography, its abundant supply of cool,
sparkling water, and, above all, its un-
A. PROSPER COLONY RESIDENCE
surpassed climate, all combining to make
it an ideal home for the man who desires
to succeed.
In selecting the site of Prosper Colony,
its builders chose well, and in the interest
of the settlers.
Situated on the main line of the Atlantic
Coast Line, and extending to within three
miles of the Seaboard Air Line Railway,
it affords the colonists adequate facilities
for the rapid transportation of their crops,
and at competitive rates, while its nearness
to Orlando, the picturesque seat of Orange
County, and to a number of other import-
ant towns, ensures a ready market for
the overripe fruit that would not carry
to distant markets. The number of mag-
nificent lakes that are to be found within
its borders and its unlimited supply of
deer, turkey, quail and other game, will
afford the gunner and angler genuine and
profitable sport for all time to come.
As nature's greatest gift to Florida is
her salubrious and even climate, so in all
Florida no spot has been more greatly
blessed in this regard than Prosper Colony,
which, situated in the very center of the
Peninsula, and on the highest point of
the Kissimmee Valley, is fanned day and
night by the cooling and health-bearing
breezes of the Ocean and the Gulf.
In the success of any enterprise nothing
is more important than the personnel of
its management. In this regard Prosper
Colony is singularly fortunate. Unlike
most other colonies, whose destinies j are
controlled from a distance, and by pro-
moters who have no real interests in the
state, Prosper Colony is owned and man-
aged by Florida men, who have a patriotic
desire to assist in its upbuilding.
The President of the Prosper Colony
Company is Mr. B. Beacham, of Orlando.
Coming to Florida about twenty-six years
ago from Georgia, a mere boy, and with
a very limited capital, Mr. Beacham pur-
chased a few supplies and some tools and
ONE YEAR OF TAFT PROSPERITY
started into the woods to clear twenty
acres of land and set out an orange grove.
Today Mr. Beacham is one of the largest
citrus-fruit growers in the state and has
accumulated over a million dollars.
The secretary-treasurer and general
manager of the Prosper Colony, the man
upon whom all the practical work has de-
volved, and who is chiefly responsible for
its wonderful development, is Mr. W. L.
Van Duzor.
Mr. Van Duzor came to Florida from
Chicago in 1883, when only nineteen
years of age. Like Mr. Beacham, he too
engaged in orange culture, and today
points with pride to the fact that he is
still one of the large producers of citrus
fruits.
But Mr. Van Duzor's chief work has
been in other fields. Four years after his
arrival in Florida, he was engaged by the
Atlantic Gulf Coast Canal and Okeechobee
Land Company — the great drainage com-
pany fathered by Hamilton Disston, of
Philadelphia, an immortal name to all
Floridians- — as general superintendent of
its work, and he remained in control of its
destinies until the completion of its con-
tract with the State of Florida— in 1893.
Enthused, as were all others associated
with Hamilton Disston, with the tre-
mendous possibilities of a developed
Florida, Mr. Van Duzor has continued
in the field of Florida development, a
worthy pioneer, and Prosper Colony is
his latest effort to assist in the upbuilding
of his state, and in carrying to effectual
completion the life work of Hamilton
Disston.
One thing that impresses the mind with
the fact that Prosper Colony and Taft
are established on a lasting foundation,
are the elaborate preparations that are
being made by the settlers to develop the
colony along permanent lines.
For instance, the colonists have formed
a co-operative company among them-
selves to develop the manufacturing pos-
NEW SCHOOL, PROSPER COLONY, TAFT
sibilities of Taft, and at the same time
create an immediate market for the
Colony's standing timber. Their big saw-
mill is already in operation, a shingle and
lathe mill is in course of construction, the
machinery for a sash, door and blind
factory has been ordered, and a large
plant for the manufacture of barrels,
crates and orange boxes is to be erected
in the immediate future.
A visit to Prosper Colony and to Taft
is a revelation of what American citizen-
ship, prompted by an honest purpose, can
accomplish in even one short year. On
every side is to be heard the buzz of the
saw and the tap of the hammer, new
settlers are arriving daily, houses are going
up as if by magic, farms are being cleared
and fenced, and active preparations for
placing the land under cultivation are
being made.
Strangers in a strange land, these sturdy
settlers of Prosper Colony are neverthe-
less all quite at home in their new sur-
roundings. This new land spells prosperity
to all of them, and they feel it. No voice
of disparagement, no word of discourage-
ment, no whisper of doubt can be heard
anywhere — all love the new state in which
they have planted their destinies; all are
happy and contented; all look into the
future with an optimism that bespeaks well
for the future of Prosper Colony and the
future of Taft.
THE EXPERT AND FLORIDA SUCCESS
By H. B. MILLER
•TODAY is the day of the expert. In
1 every walk of life there is an insistent
demand for the man who has made a par-
ticular study of one thing, whether it be in
science, medicine, architecture, agriculture,
horticulture, or, in fact, any other field
of human endeavor.
In the few short years, however, that the
soil expert has been a recognized factor in
the success of American agriculture, he has
demonstrated beyond dispute that he is,
of all the experts, the most valuable, for
upon him, as upon no one else, depends
the success or failure of America's most
important citizen, the farmer.
It was with the hope of gaining a few
facts as to the part the soil expert would
play in the new Florida, that the writer
called upon Mr. C. M. Griffing, one of
the best horticulturists and soil experts
in the South.
Mr. Griffing is an enthusiastic believer
in the future of Florida and of the South.
"Knowing the agricultural conditions
of the South and of Cuba, as I believe
few do," said Mr. Griffing, "I recognized
two or three years ago the enormous field
that presented itself to the man who would
be willing to study scientifically the soil
conditions of this the most favored section
of our land, and I immediately devoted
my attention to this branch of horticul-
ture. No land is more responsive to
proper treatment than the soil of the
South.
"More wonderful results have been
attained by people of moderate means in
fruit and vegetable growing in the South
than in any other section of the globe.
Men with merely enough to live on a few
months have rented lands on a share crop
basis and made from one thousand dollars
to three thousand dollars in a season's
work.
"Mistakes are expensive even to those
who after a few years of disappointment
and failure ultimately succeed. Planting
C. M. GRIFFING
Soil expert and horticulturist
the wrong crops or trees costs time, labor
and money. Possibly not all, but the
majority of mistakes may be avoided by
proper counsel and advice from one having
a range of knowledge of soil, climatic
conditions and crop results over a wide
range of territory, who can advise the
kinds of crops, trees and fruits best suited
and most likely to prove profitable for
the particular location selected, and who
can point out to the settler the pitfalls
that beset his path.
"Let the settler start right and his suc-
cess will be assured, and the only way to
start right is to employ a recognized soil
expert and horticulturist of integrity and
standing."
OVER,
""THE football season is on, and the sum-
*• mer baseball fan has resigned himself
to watching the struggles of the gridiron,
and cheering as enthusiastically at the
"goal kick" as when the baserunner
landed "home."
Baseball will probably always hold its
own as our great national sport, but the
new football rules going into effect this
fall will do much to make the struggle
"within the lines" less dangerous and a
close second to baseball in popularity.
through Southwest Penn-
sylvania on the Bessemer & Lake
Erie Railroad, one passes an ambitious
looking little depot, that seems to have a
certain aggressiveness coupled with its
newness. "Red Raven" says the sign
above the door.
"Where's the works?" asked a fellow-
passenger of the brakeman as he called
the name in passing.
"Oh, they're up town a mile and a
half out," he replied. "They use motor
trucks to connect with this road."
"Why don't folks with a business like
that get on a railroad line?" queried the
fellow-passenger disdainfully.
"Oh, they are, but they've 'passed it
up' for this road." And as the train sped
along to the southward, the story was told
of the establishment of the new town of
Red Raven. Located in a little hamlet
some twelve miles distant from Pittsburg,
the townsfolk wanted to call their village
Red Raven after their leading industry.
So they applied to the local railroad,
asking that the freight and express offices
at that point be given the new name,
which was denied.
But the Bessemer & Lake Erie railroad
passed within a mile and a half of the town
and the resolute villagers petitioned its
officers for the establishment of a station
called Red Raven. In return they prom-
ised to ship over that road, and a line
of heavy motor trucks was installed to
convey their product from the village to
their new station. The railroad accepted ,
the sign for "Red Raven" was duly hoisted
on the Bessemer & Lake Erie road, and
the little depot was put up without delay.
In keeping with the plan, an office of
Wells, Fargo & Co. was opened in the
village, using the line of motor trucks
to handle the business between the new
station and the little depot.
News of the transfer of a town's busi-
ness from the local railroad to another a
mile and a half distant reached Pittsburg
business circles; it was a novel situation.
The attention of motor truck and auto-
mobile manufacturers was attracted, and
the different railroads learning of the
undertaking, awaited developments with
a keen interest.
It seemed almost an anomaly for a
town so situated on the line of a big rail-
road to do practically all its shipping
over another line a mile and a half away,
but the business interests of Red Raven
say that the experiment is successful,
and they are thoroughly satisfied with
their new departure. Today fully nine-
tenths of all the freight and express ar-
riving at or leaving the village is carried
by the motor truck line through the
new station of Red Raven.
DEPARTMENT OF PROGRESSIVE ADVERTISERS
ReaJ Food
Clean and Fresh
DON'T think of Uneeda Biscuit as^ a
mere lunch necessity, or as a bite
between meals.
Uneeda Biscuit are the most nutri-
tious food made from flour, and are
full of energizing, strength - giving
power.
Uneeda Biscuit are always crisp and
fresh and delicious when you buy them.
Their sensible, dust tight, moisture proof
packages prevent the unclean, tough con-
dition so common to ordinary crackers.
(Never sold in bulk)
iiiiiii
11,,
fc a package
Don't fail to mention "The National Magazine" when writing to advertisers.
LET'S TALK IT OVER
AN advertiser who says the National
Magazine is exceedingly interest-
ing to himself has got it into his
head that the magazine cannot possibly
be, and, therefore, is not of any con-
siderable interest to women.
This man handles the advertising ap-
propriation for a favorite food company's
product — something that should be reg-
ularly advertised in the National.
There are other doubting Thomases
who "have got to be shown" that women
read and like the National; so let's have
a letter from every appreciative woman
reader, telling how much she thinks of
the publication and saying what de-
partments are particularly interesting.
Many of our women readers have ex-
pressed special regard for the "Affairs
at Washington" department, the travel
sketches, and the descriptions of states,
which some men folks think are written
expressly for themselves, and are of no
interest to women.
We want to have such a deluge of
letters from our loyal women -subscribers
that we may prove to advertisers that the
National is read and appreciated by both
men and women — yes — and by the chil-
dren, too. Let's have a loyal word from
everyone.
* * *
A LA'RGE sight-seeing automobile was
**• rumbling down Broadway, its raised
seats filled with eager sightseers. In
front, with megaphone in hand, the an-
nouncer pointed out the places of interest,
supplementing his , remarks with curious
bits of history. They were passing the
corner of Duane Street, where the street
numbers on Broadway were under 300 and
rapidly going down -scale.
Waving a hand to the left, he called the
passengers' attention to the figures "4711."
The reason for the appearance of this
number among the smaller ones was in-
terestingly explained: It is the trade-
mark of Miilhens & Kropff toilet prepara-
tions. Back in 1792 the business was
started at 4711 Glockengasse, Cologne,
Germany, and the reputation of the
goods grew until the street number
became a household word in the minds of
the public.
"Go to 4711," said a host of enthusi-
astic customers, whenever the conver-
sation turned to choice soap and per-
fumery, and in this way the simple number
of the street became the trade-mark of a
familiar and much-appreciated line of
toilet preparations.
Many NATIONAL readers have doubt-
less wondered why the trade-mark "No.
4711" is made so conspicuous on the
Miilhens & Kropff advertisements, and
the explanation throws an interesting
little sidelight on the growth of a great
business.
* * *
July first the Bureau of Mines was
established in the Department of
the Interior. It was originally planned to
transfer the entire Technological Branch
of the United States Geological Survey to
this department, but an amendment
assigned the investigation of the struc-
tural materials to the Bureau of Standards,
Department of Commerce and Labor.
Analyses and tests of all explosives and
reports theron will be made to prosecute
the development of mining operations in
all parts of the country. Every coal
mine accident that has occurred in the
past two years has been carefully in-
vestigated, and the work of the Bureau
of Mines will be of special interest as a
part of the general conservation of all coal
and ore deposits on government lands.
The special railway cars fitted up as
portable railway hospitals for the vic-
tims of mining accidents have been already
placed on duty by the new Bureau. They
will be stationed at central points of the
country, ready for emergency calls. One
will be located at Billings, Montana, to
cover that state and northern Wyoming.
The second car has not been definitely
assigned as yet, but it doubtless will
cover the coal fields of Colorado and
Utah. The cars are fully equipped
with rescue apparatus, and have air-
tight rooms at the end for use in training
the men to oxygen helmets. Thf ">e rooms
are filled with poisonous fumes but the
miners are trained to remain ii. . ide two
hours in an atmosphere that would be fatal
in two minutes without the protection of
the helmets. The Bureau at Washington
plans to cover the country thorough!;; with
these branch rescue stations.
DEPARTMENT OF PROGRESSIVE ADVERTISERS
Victor Double-faced Records give you
more music! betterl music/and cheaper music
than you ever; had before.
More music. Music on hot
sides of the same record) T)oubl
enjoyment from every recorcb
Better music. Every^record
made by the new Victor process —
one of the most important discover-
ies ever made in the art\ of record-
in a new tone-,qua1ity — sweeter and
clearer than ever before.
IUS1C.
jf Cheaper
' selections on; opposite sides of the
same record' means a saving in ma-
terials and workmanship, and gives
you two records in one almost at
ing. An improvement thatjresults \f the price' of one.
There's' no two\ sides to 'this fact:/that every Victor
Record, dpuble-facedlas well as single-faced, is a record
f quality- -a musical masterpiece.
o
Victor Double-faced Records
10-inch 7,5 cents', 12-inch $1.2
[Victor Single-faced Records
10-inch 60 cents ; 12-inch $1
i Victor Purple Label Records
10-inch 75 cents; 12-inch $1.25
I Victor Red Seal Records
10- and 12-inch, $1 to $7
New Victor Records are on sale
! at all dealers on the 28th of each month
There's a Victor for you at whatever
!>rice you want to pay— $10, $17.50,
25, $32.50, $40, $50, $60, $100.
Victor-Victrola, $125, $200, $250.
Easy terms can be arranged with
your dealer if desired.
Victor Talking Machine Co.
Camden, N. J., U. S. A.
Berliner Gramophone Co., Montreal. Canadian Distributors
To get best results, use only
Victor Needles on Victor Records
Don't fail to mention "The National Magazine" when writing to advertisers.
LET'S TALK IT OVER
THE growth and development of the 5
and 10 cent stores in the United States,
inaugurated by Mr. F. W. Woolworth, have
played a prominent part in the revolution
of retail trade. There seems to be nothing
under the sun in the way of little necessi-
ties for the house and person that is not
included in these 5 and 10 cent shops with
their striking red fronts and characteristic
and modern methods of doing business.
The installation of these stores in England
is one of the American enterprises that has
met with immediate success; sixty thou-
sand people inspected the rooms of the
Woolworth Company on the opening day
of the first stores in Liverpool.
The whole proposition was a novelty in
England, where the custom is not to expose
the variety handled — the customer is sup-
pose^ to know what he wants before he goes
shopping.
Five Woolworth Stores have been opened
there, selling their goods at one pen-
ny, three-pence (6c.) and sixpence (12c.),
a slight advance over the prices in this
country, so consequently greater values are
given. The throngs who daily visit the
stores grow enthusiastic as they find on the
counters all the little things which are
needed for everyday life rather than those
things which it is impossible to possess.
The English people appreciate the right
given them through the Woolworth plan
to enter a shop and look about without
being obliged to purchase, and doubtless
their advent will revolutionize shopkeeping
in Great Britain.
All the stores are centrally located, and
are large and roomy, and will soon give the
English housewife the same delight in shop-
ping which is enjoyed by her American
sister.
* * *
"TF you want to grasp the meaning of
^ 'artistic' watch the right kind of
Italian workman laying a stone wall, or
making a plaster cast," said a well-known
architect. ''You would think at first
that both these processes are merely me-
chanical— but they need not be. There
are untrained Italian laborers who will
build a masonry wall that is a delight to
the trained eye because of the arrange-
ment of< the stones. The same thing is
true of making \ casts. The competent
Italian workman treats casting as an art.
At every step in the process from building
the mold around the model, through the
operations of pouring the plaster, remov-
ing the mold, finishing and putting on the
ivory tint, the Italian is inspired by the
artistic sensitiveness that has made his
country the Mecca of all artists."
There is no place so good as the work-
rooms of the Boston Sculpture Company,
in Melrose, for seeing and feeling the value
to the final quality of plaster casts of
artistic good faith in the workman.
Teachers are of course familiar with the
general idea of plaster reproductions of
famous — and sometimes of infamous! —
sculpture; but a visit to the workrooms
of the Boston Sculpture Company will
make doubly significant to them there-
after every fine line and every beautiful
detail in a plaster cast. They will realize,
after watching an Italian at his task of
"finishing" a cast, how utterly at the
mercy of his sense of artistic obligation
is the final truthfulness of the completed
cast. Naturally, all casts of the Minerva
Giustiniani look much alike to those who
do not understand how a little too deep-
cutting here, a little lack of cutting there,
may subtly falsify the true proportions,
and weaken the true expression of the
original sculpture.
The Boston Sculpture Company will
gladly show to visiting teachers all the
details of the processes carried on in its
workrooms, up to the hundreds of pieces
in its studios and storerooms. These
range from the Winged Victory of the
Greeks to Louis Potter's new busts of
President Eliot and "Mark Twain,"
which have just been received from the
sculptor, and are now in the process of
casting. The Boston Sculpture Company
takes great pains to secure faithfulness
in its reproductions, and has used the
greatest care in selecting its Italian sculp-
ture workmen, on whom excellence finally
depends.
The Melrose Studios of the Boston
Sculpture Company occupy a large build-
ing standing in the angle between Main
and Green Streets, Melrose. Through
cars from the lower level at Sullivan
Square will take the visitor to them in thirty
minutes. Teachers are especially welcome.
11 From the struggling rays of the lamp, she looked, upon the stranger" ^ ^
REVERIE "LA PENSEROSA," THE PENSIVE ONE
December
AT1ON
MAGAZINE
UJRBE
AMcrry
HRJSTMAS
FROM THE EDITOR
IN the glow of Christmas greeting and merriment
our hearts become suffused with the Christ-like
impulse of kindly, gentle greeting, and respect
for the rights of others, obedience to the most lofty
ideals of human intercourse, and deference to our
fellow-beings as life seems illumined by the ineffable
and softened light of the Star of Bethelem.
Somehow, even the strident tone of the business
man, giving crisp command and terse reproof, has a
kindly resonance never heard at other times in the
few days that precede the world's great universal
holiday, when the spirit of consideration for one's
fellow-men seems infectious.
Joys of Christmas are recalled — the days when
as children we looked upon the' Christmas tree and
wondered if that drum and this doll were to be
really our own. Even Uncle Sam has joined in the
little secret of Christmas anticipation, and now holds
packages until the great day, to bring happy sur-
prises, and the postman has become a busy envoy
of Santa Claus even to the grown-up children.
Let us sit down, in the twilight, by the flickering
firelight, and think over for a moment just how
much we owe to others for whatever happiness we
enjoy. Think a moment — think reflectively, as did
Sidney Lanier when he said:
11 1 shut myself in with my soul,
And the shapes came eddying forth"
Think tenderly and lovingly — and forms and
faces crowd upon the vision that perhaps have been
long forgotten in the tumult of life. Among the
first are those of mother and father, 'from whose
ideals, years ago, were gained the impulses that led
to honorable achievement. Here is a vision of the
passing friend, whose memory is only preserved in
a yellow bundle of letters — letters from whose fading
sentences came the inspiration that influenced a life
career.
Nor are all faces those of the dead: — many, indeed,
are still seen in everyday life. Our friends — the
people we meet in business or join in pleasure — how
many have helped to mould our lives as we reckon
them up in the fading light of the dying Christmas fire!
* * *
The Yuletide bears in floodtide the sentiment of
co-operation, the blending of hopes and aspirations,
the thoughts and ideals, the welling up of emotions
that are inborn — God-given. Even the egotist inter-
mits the proclamation of his ideas and gives a passing
moment to the hopes and fears of the little family
about his hearthstone, who may be hungering for
that word of cheer, which he feels belongs to the
world rather than to his own fireside. Who can
conceive of a nation which will ever fulfill its own
destiny unless it is made up of loyal units — of indi-
viduals whose consideration and respect for the
majority is evolved into family ties from the same
rudiments which make cities and communities and
great nations?
As the scientific advancement of the year blends
with;,. the vision, we can well imagine the fluttering
aeroplane transfigured as the white Dove of Peace.
For of what avail are the great leviathans of the seas
when the heavens will bear into the final wager of
battle aeroplanes and dirigible balloons? As the
terrible engines of destruction are improved, the
likelihood of war becomes more remote, making
the message of Peace something more than a dream.
It reminds me of the famous painting which hangs
for universal inspiration in Watts' room in the
Wallace collection, on the Thames embankment in
London. A great world circling through infinite
space is ^represented — surmounted by a harp with
but one string; ' but that string vibrates with the
spirit of Hope, and underneath is a motto especially
appropriate for Christmas-tide —
" To give is to gain."
And ^unless Christmas can be kept as a time of
giving; unless that giving means some sacrifice and
some radiance of joy and comfort and hope to a
human being, it will indeed be a dull and cheerless
Yuletide.
* * *
The popular note which touches humanity at every
corner^has;been the "square deal." We hear it on
the stump, on the street, in the business house, in the
pulpit — everywhere. The "square deal" is a lofty
and noble sentiment, but its true interpretation is
"fair^play." The American sense of justice is deep-
rooted. "Fair play" is the necessary complement
of the "square deal." The deal may be square*
but there must also be fair play in the great game
of life. Christ repudiated the sentiment of "an eye
for an eye' and a tooth for a tooth" in bringing to
the world the great message of fair play and charity
for all^human kind.
Therfruitage of a truly noble life finds its greatest
recompense in that fellowship and friendship to
which Blair paid the charming apostrophe:*
''Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul!
Sweetener of life! and solder of society!"
The cultivation of friendship is a true mission of
love — the little factory girl who eats her luncheon
alone may have a heart hungering for a word from
the associates who merrily group about for their
noonday meal. The lonesome soul has a gentleness,
which, if understood, could be developed into a dis-
position far from melancholy.
Would it not be possible to conceive of a nation
in which man could see in a fellow-man not only his
failings, but give him credit also for all his virtue?
Can we not say with Browning
"God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures
Boasts two soul-sides"?
Think well of your fellow-men — let the Christmas
spirit enter your heart, and every reader will, in
perusing these lines, feel the Christmas spirit as I
feel it, sitting by the hearthside and wishing a
Merry Christmas for every individual and family
gathering. Let Christmas of 1910 be one of happi-
ness, and the new year will be radiant with hope and
filled with the impulse of doing something for somebody
every day. The books will balance if the impulse be
actuated by fair play— fair play to every fellow-being.
With this sublimation will come the great con-
sciousness of peace and benediction from Him who
having lived a perfect life on earth now reigns over
that universal kingdom toward which the heart
and soul of man have ever turned for the "peace
that passeth understanding" and the good will whose
primal chord vibrates the harp-strings of Hope.
*z^bi, /fafafajLJtt
©ueen of tf)e
By EDNA DEAN PROCTOR
TV 7HEN 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 yellow 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 world from harms —
December, fair and holly-crowned,
With the Christ-child in her arms.
ONAL
A 2 I N E
DECEMBER, 1910
PS & t
HINGTON
Joe Mitche
HERE is a rush in departmental
Washington to gather together
the memoranda and tabulated
records for the final proofs of the
various reports which are prepared, ready
for the opening of Congress. The busiest
time at the departments at the Capital
comes when the last of autumn's gorgeous
leafage has fallen, and the winter season is
fast approaching. The heads of the various
departments, and their clerks and messen-
gers, are busy seeing that the final figures
are tabulated and the deductions made
on which are based the appropriations for
the coming year, to say nothing of the
many plans for legislation which are sug-
gested by these summaries and forecasts.
The "Busy Day" card is now .promi-
nently visible, and vainly do the an-
nouncements of great football matches,
aviation contests, races and like attrac-
tions greet the eye of the department
employe as he hurriedly scans the morning
paper. Long into the night the visitor
to the various offices finds the clerks and
officials at work making up estimates for
the annual budget of Uncle Sam, with
enthusiastic hopes of appropriations to
come.
An official visitor from Switzerland who
was being shown about remarked that the
most interesting current literature that
he could obtain from America was con-
tained in the reports of the government
offices at Washington. "You have no
idea how the magnitude of your plans and
the wonderful system which prevails in
this country impresses the visitor from
a smaller nation," he said. "Where we
deal in dollars, it seems that you deal in
millions."
In his bulky portmanteau he had many
current reports of the various departments
in Washington, insisting that these records
were becoming veritable textbooks with
the students of civil government the world
over. Many transitions are made of the
more important features and suggestions
embodied in these same government
reports, which for the most part are unread
and unused by an overwhelming majority
of the ninety millions of people for whcm
they are issued.
IN the rambling low-studded brick build-
ing known as the Census Bureau, Chief
Durand was busily preparing the last data
for announcing the result of the decennial
census for 1910. The Director was tugging
hard at his stubby mustache, and firmly
meeting the perplexities developing from
(137)
188
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
the padded census reports of certain cities
in the West. Backed by a letter from the
President he took hold of these irregu-
larities with a firm hand, and it is grati-
fying to know that the discovery of census
frauds was not general to any extent.
The Division of Population, the largest in
the Census Bureau, was pushing along the
work at a lively rate after the census fig-
ures came in, employing more clerks than
any other division in the building.
CopyrigM 19U9, Hams, &kitnng
E. DANA DURAND
The census of manufactures is taken
every five years, and the returns of vital
statistics are made up every year, but
the population is numbered and the crop
statistics secured only once every decade.
The statistics and information incorpo-
rated in the Census of 1910 are by far
the most comprehensive ever collected by
any nation, and have more than merely
governmental importance and value; for
through these figures accumulated by the
Census Department the financier, manu-
facturer, business man, merchant and the
farmer can make calculations tending to
preclude over-production, congestion or
panic. Business is becoming more and
more a matter of simple, mathematical
calculation, based to a great extent on
official government reports.
* * *
One of the interesting features explained
to me by Mr. Durand was that in spite
of the fact that fifteen or twenty millions
of names are added to the roll each census,
the cost of operating the Bureau for the
1910 census is but very little more than
when the population was smaller by twen-
ty millions or more, for the labor-saving
devices and new systems introduced, es-
pecially since the establishment of a per-
manent census bureau, have effected a
tremendous saving, and the celerity and
accuracy with which the large volume of
work is handled and the details analyzed
and segregated, is little short of marvel-
ous. Counting our immense and ever-
growing population almost seems like
counting the drops of water in a rushing
river.
A vigorous effort was made in the taking
of the last census to eliminate political
influence of every description. Some insist
that this has been to the disadvantage
of the census, because it did not secure
a staff of efficient enumerators who were
personally known to the various congress-
men. Taken altogether, it must be ad-
mitted that the census, as taken under the
present methods, will inspire a confidence
in the minds of people that would have
been impossible if gathered under purely
political auspices. The taking of the
census of 1910 was as free from political
influence as possible in a government that
encourages party organizations.
* * *
In the corridors of the Census Bureau
were clerks "grown gray in the service" —
clerks who had been identified with the
census for the past forty or fifty years,
many of them — and to observe their care
and anxiety lest some one figure in the
multifarious collection of tables should
be incorrect was an inspiring example of
devotion to their work.
The clerks passing to and fro between
rooms with papers and bundles, consult-
ing and revising, are making up the history
of an important decade.
While the census may not make as
fascinating reading as the "Six Best Sel-
lers," it must be realized that the census
MISS HELEN HOLMES, WHO MADE A DECIDED HIT IN "THE AVIATOR
WHEN PLAYING IN WASHINGTON?:
140
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
is the veritable encyclopedia on which
all calculations for the future are made
in the progress of the nation. Tariff-
making, all manner of legislation and ap-
propriations, find in the census reports
a reference book of the last resort.
IT was indeed impressive to witness that
* the acknowledgment at Washington of a
radical change of government in an ancient
monarchy was made with as little apparent
Photo by
Lorecy, Albany
WILLIAM F. BARNES, JR.
Of the New York Journal— "The Albany Boss"
formality as the signing of a business letter.
The transition of Portugal from a kingdom
to a Republic was accomplished with
scarcely a ripple on the diplomatic "depths
profound" at Washington. Foreshadowed
by the correspondence of the State De-
partment, the result had been long antici-
pated, and when the final word came, it
seemed *to occasion scarcely enough sur-
prise to provoke the lifting of an eyebrow.
The change was announced while Assist-
ant-Secretary of State Adee was in per-
sonal charge of the Department. Secre-
tary of State Knox, who was called to the
telephone at Valley Forge, took his place
at the helm in a few hours' time, and the
birth of the new Republic of Portugal was
made known in Washington through the
dispatches to the State Department.
President Braga, who has been elected
the first chief executive of the new repub-
lic, has long been an enthusiastic advocate
of independence, and is said to have a
special admiration for American ways and
methods.
The disintegration of the army and
navy of Portugal ensured the compara-
tively brief and pacific revolution, for
upon the loyalty of his army and navy
largely depends the security of a King
and his monarchy.
The trend of events in Portugal has
been sympathetically reflected in many
other monarchies, and the spirit of unrest
in 1910, now being analyzed by socio-
logical students, seems to be worldwide.
This was the case during the years of
the struggle for independence of the
American colonies (1775-1783), so closely
followed by the French Revolution.
It does not seem to require telegraph
cables or any of our twentieth century
advantages of quick communication to
discern a universal feeling of interest
among the human race, but modern
methods have done much toward elimi-
nating the horrors of massacre and blood-
shed which in the past have attended the
success or defeat of revolutions.
King Manuel, a resident of England in
exile, will have opportunity to reflect, if
he lives to an old age, on the futility of
trying to rule in the twentieth century
without a government where the people
must be first considered. His downfall
is simply the culmination of events that
have been taking place in rapid succession
in Portugal.
The sentiment among the Portuguese
in America seems to be that their love of
monarchs as mere monarchs has been out-
grown; they want a man — a practical man
of the world, familiar with and capable of
a business-like administration — as their
chief executive.
The last crown of the many that have
been worn by princes of the Portuguese
blood has become a relic of the past. Be-
ginning with the deposition of Emperor
Dom Pedro of Brazil, who was dethroned
soon after his visit to America at the
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
141
Philadelphia Centennial in 1876, the
decline of Portuguese royalty has been
rapid and inevitable.
A HURRIED trip from Panama in
**• order to discuss with the President
the important subject of fortification has
facts has had much to do with his success
in securing prompt legislation and adequate
appropriations. His long and varied
travels have broadened his vision and
brought him in touch with all sorts of
temperaments in tropic and temperate
zones — even those incident to barometical
changes in political typhoons.
'Photo by The Picture Syndicate
The first President of the new republic of Portugal, in his office at Lisbon
resulted in Colonel Goethals' persuading
President Taft to make another trip to
Panama. There are few great subjects
in connection with the work of the Chief
Executive with which the President is
not personally familiar. His knowledge
of the details concerning the locks and
gigantic construction work at the Canal
shows what an infinite mass of information
has been mastered. The old habit of
"pollecting the evidence" and getting his
When the President returns from
Panama, Congress will have some in-
formation on the fortification proposed
that will probably result in favorable
action. The rainy season has no terrors
for the former War Secretary, and the
workers on the canal seem to make the
dirt fly just a bit faster after the reports
of the Presidential parting salute of
twenty-one guns have echoed down Limon
Bay.
142
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
sweetly sad memories are
awakened of my last visit to Julia
Ward Howe at her Beacon Street
home in Boston. It was approaching her
natal day in May, and all the floral charm
of the Public Gardens and green of the
DAWSON MAYER
Publisher and managing editor The Jewish Times, San
Francisco (see article in Publishers' Department)
old Common seemed abloom as we found
our way to the home of America's un-
crowned queen. In the reception room
on the second floor, while waiting, we
were startled when a tiny elevator des-
scended from the ceiling, from which,
unattended, Julia Ward Howe stepped
forth and closed the door in her positive
little way as I approached to lend my arm
and to lead her to the little white chair
toward the window. The impulse to
kneel and kiss her hand in veneration
could not be restrained.
Her bright blue eyes sparkled under
the little lace cap and her cheeks flushed
as she told us of her girlhood days in
New York, and her wit and humor in
discussing the events of the passing day,
although she was then past her ninetieth
birthday, seemed almost supernatural.
She repeated for us the story of her first
and only meeting with Lincoln, and her
eyes moistened as she spoke of the sad ex-
pression in the President's eyes that made
his homely face handsome with the shadow
of the burden of a people's destinies.
The time passed all too quickly; As
we rose to take leave, we were invited to
see the drawing-room where our hostess
proudly displayed the portraits painted by
her son-in-law. There was a charm, a
homeliness, a sweetness about it all that
never can be forgotten. When I spoke,
while looking at the portrait of her dis-
RABBI M. S. LEVY
Editor The Jewish Times, San Francisco (see article in
Publishers' Department)
tinguished husband, of her assistance to
him in his work, she promptly disclaimed
any credit: "Why, I had my babies to
care for in those days," she laughed, "and
it is never fair for a woman to claim credit
for her husband's success." This was a
frank protest of one of the most renowned
of American women suffragists. But how
her eyes sparkled when I told her that
President Roosevelt had stated that his
favorite poem was her own "Battle Hymn
of the Republic."
VICTOR HERBERT
The composer and conductor who conferred the awards for the judges in the "Heart Songs" book. His
opera "Natoma" is to be given its first production in New York next February (see article
"The Musical Season in America," on page 249 of this issue of the NATIONAL)
144
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
In the schools of Boston, on the day of
her funeral, her poems were recited and
her songs sung while tributes were de-
livered that will make the memory of
Julia Ward Howe ever-enduring in the
history of her country.
""THE lights have been kept burning long
^ and late in the Post Office building
at Washington, and Postmaster -General
every postmaster-general since the days of
Benjamin Franklin. Under the inspira-
tion of the portrait of Franklin, which
hangs conspicuously in the outer office,
General Hitchcock has introduced many
of the economies and virtues recom-
mended by "Poor Richard." He seems
to be determined upon results, and carries
out in his department the old Franklin
maxim: "Take care of the pennies [for
one-cent postage] and the dollars will
THE COMMITTEE ROOM OP THE COMMITTE ON MILITARY AFFAIRS OP THE SENATE
IN THE CAPITOL BUILDING, WHICH IS PRESIDED OVER BY SENATOR WARREN
Hitchcock has been giving arduous atten-
tion to his work. He cut down the postal
deficit over $10,000,000 last year, which
of itself might seem notable in the career
of the young Cabinet officer. But his
heart is centered in the belief that, by
gradually changing the old systems, he
will be able to present to the people of
America, as a Christmas gift sometime
before the close of the Taft administra-
tion, the achievement of one-cent postage
on allj[first-class matter.
This has been the dream of nearly
take care of themselves." His policy for
the past year has been to take excellent
care of the pennies, in order to work out
the equation of penny postage. He began
his economies in the executive offices at
Washington, and despite the increase in
the volume of business, with over two hun-
dred thousand employes in the postal
service, the expenses were held down.
The forthcoming of the postmaster-
general's report will be'read with interest, as
his department, perhaps more than any
other, comes in direct contact
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
145
homes of all the people. Mr. Hitchcock
has the distinction of organizing the first
Postal Savings Bank tinder the new law.
Interest in the establishment of the Postal
Savings Bank system is increasing daily,
more especially in the West.
AT one of the early social dinners of
** the season, a prominent Washing-
tonian was bewailing the fact that women
today take so little interest in political
affairs. |He recalled the days of Kate
Chase Sprague, daughter of Chief Justice
Sprague, who was a reigning influence,
socially and politically, in the White
House receptions, and during the war
started in with a resolute purpose of
securing her father's nomination for the
presidency to supersede Lincoln in 1864.
The "M. C." resplendent in long-tailed coat dashed forth
It is said that she is the only woman who
ever became a powerful political force in
Washington.
"IShe never quite forgave Lincoln for
shelving her father in his appointment to
the Supreme bench, and pursued very
clever plans to secure for Chief- Justice
Chase a formidable representation of
delegates in the National Convention of
1868, Washington is not Paris, and has
never since known a woman who was so
astute, active and tactful in political
intrigue.
* * *
E of the busiest men in the Capitol
every year, just before the opening
of Congress, is Superintendent Elliott
Woods. He was busied with going over
little details to please a thousand different
minds and the same number of tempera-
ments, and making every nook and corner
Bewailing the fact that women today take so little
interest in political affairs
ready for twelve o'clock on the ' 'first
Monday following the first Tuesday."
The accommodating superintendent is
puzzled just now on account of the avia-
tion craze — he fears that the eaves of_the
dome may yet have to be utilized as an
aero-landing for Senators and Congress-
men. Some time ago, as carriages became
fewer and fewer, he had some trouble with
automobiles, but the difficulty was even-
tually overcome. • A vision of Walter
Wellman circling around the Capitol
Dome in his dirigible balloon with^aero-
planes flying hither and thither over #IQ
146
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
rich green foliage of the Mall and Capitol
grounds is a picture that barely lacks
reality, now that the trolley car has ad-
vanced the outposts of the Washington
residence district as far as Rocky Creek.
One can easily imagine the days when
every distinguished Congressman may slip
into his aeroplane and land at the Capitol
in a few moments from a home as far dis-
tant as staid "Sleepodelphia," as the
cynic calls the city where the Declaration
of Independence was signed.
The secretary who mixed up those speeches has gone
away — secured a foreign mission
IT seemed a revival of the old Roose-
•*• veltian days at Washington, when a num-
ber of mounted army officers dashed down
the Avenue, preparing to enter the riding
test. Ever since this contest was insti-
tuted by Mr. Roosevelt, the army officers
have been careful to take part in it every
year. As the years of their service grow
to a close, the long rides taken daily are
rather wearing on the veterans of many
seasons' battles. Later they gather at
the Army and Navy Club and recall in-
cidents of these rides as well as many
adventures and happenings of the Spanish-
American War, for there are now but few
if any officers or soldiers in the army who
served in the War of the Rebellion, and
"Sheridan's Ride" is the popular poem
recited at the Army and Navy Club as
the time approaches for the official dash
ahorse to prove worthy of the commissions
they hold.
JV/f ANY are the woeful tales told of the
•*-*•*• strenuous campaign days. A cer-
tain congressman explains the absence of
his secretary as follows:
Three speeches were to be delivered
the same day, at a luncheon of the Hi-
bernians, a German picnic and a banquet
of the Brothers of St. George. The "M.
C." resplendent in long -tailed coat,
dashed forth with all three manuscripts,
carefully typed, under his arm, ready to
make quick connections by auto —
now an indispensable feature of
the hurricane campaign.
When the festive board of the
gallant sons of Erin was reached,
he pulled out his notes and
thrilled his audience with a flow-
ery introduction. But as he went
on, his hearers became a bit uneasy over his
glowing tribute to the sturdy Brothers of
St. George, which he enthusiastically
delivered before realizing his mistake.
The automobile was called into quick
service in whisking him from the place,
and he had not recovered from his chagrin
when he was responding to the welcome
of the picnickers. Spreading out his
notes, he launched forth into sentences of
unstinted praise for the aggressive British
spirit which had made mince-meat of the
Germans in the markets of the world.
"And that isn't all."
He paused. "No, I didn't read the
Hibernian notes for the Britishers. But
when I arrived, had been introduced as
the speaker for the evening and said a
few opening words, I examined my two
rolls of manuscript and realized that the
papers for the Brothers of St. George had
been torn to ribbons in my exasperation,
after I discovered my fatal mistake at
the Hibernian dinner.
"The secretary who mixed up those
speeches," he added emphatically, "has
gone away — secured a foreign mission."
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
147
ON his return from a trip to the Philip-
pines and around the world, Secre-
tary Dickinson feels that he is better than
ever equipped to give the War Depart-
ment a vigorous administration. He fol-
lowed the suggestion and advice of his
chief, and has familiarized himself with
conditions in the Orient. The party of
tourists, which included Mr. and Mrs.
Larz Anderson, was given a most enthu-
siastic reception when they arrived in the
far-east countries.
No sooner had Secretary Dickinson
returned than the military journals were
JUDGE ROBERT SCOTT LOVETT
The successor of E. H. Harriman (see page 157)
busily debating the problems of the de-
fence of the Pacific, through the forti-
fication of the Panama Canal, although
it is recognized that it is now too late
to have the defences ready by the time
the Canal is opened, since it requires
years to set up a battery of disappearing
guns similar to those now being made for
Honolulu and Manila.
•"THE usual genial and hearty greetings
*" which characterize the re-assembling
of Congress after the long vacation had an
undertone of sadness and genuine regret,
because Senator Jonathan Prentiss Dolliver,*
the greatest of America's orator-statesmen,
had joined the Great Majority. It seems
only yesterday that I watched his tall,
stoop -shouldered figure striding down the
C. C. GLOVER
President Riggs National Bank of Washington, D. C.
and an authority on banking
steps of the Capitol, in the full prime and
vigor of his manhood, after his arduous
fight in Congress, although his brow was
pallid and his eyes seemed to have an
unnatural luster.
Imperial old Iowa will never have an
orator to fill his place, for throughout the
length and breadth of the land, wherever
his voice penetrated, he delivered a never-
to-be-forgotten message, whether it voiced
a prepared oration, flashed forth in the
Senate Chamber in a rough-and-tumble
convention debate, or genially amused in
an impromptu after-dinner talk.
The legion of stories told of his life
promise to rival in number the anecdotes
of Mark Twain. In tracing his career,
his success seems to have had its start
from one incident— and in meeting public
148
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
men I have learned that a career is often
determined by a single speech or a single
shining epigram, assuming, of course, that
there is ability to back up the "hit," as
the stage folk call it.
Senator Dolliver first came into promi-
nence when, as a young attorney of Fort
Dodge, Iowa, he attracted the attention
of the Clarkson boys of Des Moines, who,
with their father, ran the old powerful
Des Moines Register. "Rett" Clarkson
published in the Register a synopsis of a
THE LATE SENATOR J. P. DOLLIVER
Fourth of July speech which young Dol-
liver delivered at a small place near Fort
Dodge. It was replete with epigrams,
and attracted Clarkson at once. After
reading proof on the article, he gave orders
that young Dolliver should be made
temporary chairman of the Republican
state convention. At that time the Clark-
sons were supreme in Iowa politics. This
gave Dolliver his chance; the Fourth of
July speech in the little grove before a
couple of hundred farmers near Fort
Dodge brought Dolliver into public life,
just as a Fourth of July speech made
Kyle of South Dakota a United States
Senator. Dolliver "made good" at the
state convention as temporary chairman,
and Clarkson featured the address, bring-
ing out the epigrams.
At that time, in the early eighties,
Major Holmes was congressman from the
Fort Dodge district. The major was a
good Republican, but no speaker. Dolliver
made a try for Holmes' seat. Holmes
made his campaign among the farmers —
about 1884 — quoting Shakespeare's "I am
no orator as Brutus is." The farmers
nominated Holmes on the "no orator as
Brutus is" platform. Dolliver was in a
barber's chair getting shaved, when a
friend informed him that Holmes had just
beaten him to a frazzle. Dolliver jumped
up half -shaved, and rushed to the conven-
tion hall. Somebody saw him enter the
hall, and a shout was made for him to
make a speech. Dolliver mounted the
platform, and in a dramatic speech cap-
tured the delegates, and made himself
solid forever with the farmers of the Fort
Dodge district. He pictured himself as
the man that Dante saw in Purgatory,
carrying his head under his arm, and
continually moaning, "Woe is me." Holmes
had just cut off his head, and the only
thing remaining for him to do was to
take the advice of his political associates,
put his head under his arm, and
tramp through the Purgatory of Politics,
crying, "Woe is me." On second thought,
however, the speaker said he would
adjust his head as well as he could
and marching under the banner held by
his erstwhile opponent, he would cry,
"Wqe to the Democrats." Two ^ years
afterwards, Dolliver beat Major Holmes
to a frazzle, and represented the Fort
Dodge district until he was sent to the
United States Senate. His tall form in
the rear row on the right of the Senate
floor will be missed, for when Dolliver
spoke, everyone listened.
•"THERE was trouble down at the Agri-
•*• cultural Department when Professor
Merton B. Waite, horticulturist, biologist
and "pestologist," as he is called, found
himself baffled in one of his cherished
experiments. The professor has a model
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
149
farm in Maryland where all sorts of fruits
are grown and developed by the most
scientific methods. But it was impossible
to treat one important phase of tree cul-
ture on this farm — destructive experi-
mental work. So the professor selected
a stretch of land on the banks of the
historic Potomac, and planted it with
all kinds of trees known to the bug or
worm world. Here he intended to breed
all the pests that would reveal the process
details and obstacles are met is inspiring,
and the pity is that more of the work of
this world is not concentrated upon re-
sults and achievement rather than upon
mad desire for immediate profit.
SOME light has been thrown of late on
a vexed question, by a report from a
committee on railway mail pay, represf^it-
ing one hundred and thirty-nine railroads.
HOUSES IN THE NEW REPUBLIC OF PORTUGAL WHICH THE AMERICAN RED CROSS
SOCIETY ASSISTED THE PORTUGUESE RED CROSS TO BUILD FOR
EARTHQUAKE VICTIMS SOME TIME AGO
of destruction. But after preparing this
paradise for Bugdom, the buds bloomed
and the fruit came despite the germs. The
fruit ripened and the trees were laden,
and the small boy and his club came along
— and did the rest. It was one of those
paradoxes of nature; perhaps there were
just enough hostile bugs of one tribe to
kill enough bugs of another so that the
Insurgents and Regulars of Bugdom left
the fruit to grow and thrive.
When one meets a real government
scientist thus absorbed in his particular
branch of research, the ardor with which
The compensation for railway mail service
has been of late reduced as follows:
First, in 1907, pay was reduced on all
routes moving more than five thousand
pounds per day, as was the rate for furnish-
ing and hauling railway post office cars;
this act produced an annual loss to the
roads of six per cent of the total received
for both classes of service.
Another act in 1906 withdrew empty
mailbags from the paid tonnage, and cer-
tain supplies to be sent by express or
freight, say one million dollars annually,
while Jthe space and facilities continued
150
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
to be the same as furnished under the
original conditions. In 1907, changes in
computing average weights resulted in a
reduction of four million five hundred
thousand dollars a year, and another
order reduced railway postal car pay
$345,287 per annum. These reductions
aggregated $8,600,000 per annum, or
seventeen per cent of the total railway
mail expenditure for the year ending June
30, 1909. During that same period there
had been a large increase in the cost of labor
and material used in railroad operation.
WASHINGTON HEADQUARTERS OF THE
REPUBLICAN STATE CLUBS
The outcry that the deficit in the Post
Office Department is due to the increase
in second-class mail matter has naturally
suggested close examination, with the
following results:
In 1907, when the railroads were having
the higher rates for service, the postal
deficit was $6,653,283. Two years later,
in 1909, despite the decrease in railway
mail pay, the deficit went up to $17,441,711.
Although the railroad service had increased
fourteen per cent the pay to the roads was
the same as two years earlier. The in-
creased deficit can hardly be laid to this
cause in the face of such statistics, which
will bear the closest inspection. To have
every fact down in black and white, giving
opportunity to make a few comparisons,
is a sure way to get at the facts.
The especial care required in mail trans-
portation is little understood. The postal
car is practically a post office on wheels,
run for the benefit of the public. It will,
no doubt, surprise many to learn that the
rate per ton, a mile, earned in moving
these cars is 1.1 mills, a much lower rate
than would be received for ordinary
empty freight cars, while the cars required
are much more costly than those needed
for any merchandise. Then, too, where
mail cars have to be brought back empty
free of charge, being used only one way,
the earning capacity is simply cut in two.
It is more profitable for a railroad to move
empty freight cars in freight trains than
to move postal cars in passenger trains,
while the difference in payment for moving
a loaded freight car, as compared with the
rate for moving mail cars, is nearly three
to one; post office cars are built according
to government estimates and requirements,
made regardless of the cost, which is paid
by the roads.
* * *
HE lives in Peoria, does Joe Graff —
"Honorable Joseph V. Graff, of
Peoria, Illinois," is the way it reads in
the Congressional Record. In a recent
visit to the city, I was interested in noting
the extraordinary popularity 01 this rep-
resentative from Peoria among the boys.
And it's all on account of the Scout Law.
The Scout Law aims to make men.
A bill was introduced by Congressman
Graff asking for a charter to incorporate
the boys of America from twelve to eighteen
and is the echo of a movement that is
already widespread in England.
The purpose of the Scout Law is to
organize the boys of the United States
into units and systematically to teach
them patriotism, discipline, obedience,
courage, self-reliance, self-control, gal-
lantry, courtesy, thrift — usefulness, help-
fulness and cheerfulness, in order to
supplement existing educational [advan-
tages for boys.
The movement was brought to this
country through Mr. W. D. Boyce of
Chicago, who relates a pretty little inci-
THE LAST GASP OF WALTER WELLMAN'S DIRIGIBLE BALLOON AS IT
SANK INTO THE SEA AFTER THE CREW HAD BEEN
PICKED UP BY A PASSING STEAMER
MELVIN VANIMAN AND THE CAT SHORTLY AFTER THE RESCUE OF
THE WELLMAN BALLOON PARTY
152
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
dent of his first meeting with a Boy Scout.
"A little lad of twelve noticed my
futile efforts," said Mr. Boyce, "and led
me with a lantern in the right direction.
I thanked him and offered him a penny.
But he said: Thank you, sir, but I am a
Boy Scout, and we never take tips for
doing kind acts/
" 'What are the Boy Scouts?' I asked
him in surprise. Then he told me that all
Boy Scouts were in honor bound to do
dreds of visitors, including many" pupils
from the normal and public schools of
Washington. The societies represented
included the Royal S. P. C. A. and the
Dumb Friends' League of London, as
well as many in America from Boston
to San Francisco. A collection of over
two hundred books on humane subjects,
and countless pamphlets, cards, posters,
etc., told of the work for protection of
children and animals. Badges, diplomas,
MASS&
VIEW OP THE EXHIBITION OP THE MASSACHUSETTS SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION
OP CRUELTY TO ANIMALS AND THE AMERICAN HUMANE EDUCATION SOCIETY AT
THE CONVENTION RECENTLY HELD IN WASHINGTON, D. C.
one kind act every day, without reward or
hope of personal remuneration."
The movement is not one of hazardous
reform^butjsimply approvesf organizing
the clean-cut, red-blooded boys so that
they will help others and be loyal to
their country.
* * *
THE first International Humane Ex-
hibit, held^*in the Newf National
Museum last Octoberjin connection' with
the International Humane Conference,
occupied five rooms and attracted un-
usual attention from delegates and hun-
medals, banners, maps, and thousands of
photographs brought this mission of kind-
ness visibly before the spectator. Models
of drinking fountains, ambulances, animal
and child shelters, and even cattle cars
were shown; while the display of lethal
chambers, humane harnesses, feed-bags,
horse-shoes, dog-kennels, and instruments
of torture that had been taken from cruel
drivers, illustrated the practical work of
societies here and abroad. At the request
of the Smithsonian Institute, samples of
all the literature exhibited were given to
that institution for permanent exhibition.
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
153
A S Superintendent of Streets in Boston,
**• Mr. Louis K. Rourke has made a
record of which any officer might be proud.
But while his new work is of keen interest
to him, Mr. Rourke still has a soft spot
in his heart for Panama and the progress
of the "big ditch." "Larry" Rourke
likes to see folks let alone and do things
as they should be done without inter-
ference, and his stand on the Panama
question is decisive. "If Washington
will let Colonel Goethals alone," he de-
clares, "the work at Panama will go along
all right." Indeed, he ventures to pre-
dict that the canal will be opened a year
earlier than that promised by Colonel
Goethals, 1915, and he speaks with real
enthusiasm of the advantages to come
when the waterway has at last been
opened.
A car load of apples coming from the
Pacific Coast will be transported on the
opening of the canal for about one-tenth
of the present cost. Mr. Rourke be-
lieves in fortifying the canal: "If we
don't it'll be taken away from us."
Fifteen million dollars' worth of great
guns down there would put the government
in shape to ward off invaders, he suggests,
and would "save us twice that amount
later."
Anyone who has ever seen him in action
at Panama realizes that it is just this
spirit of energy that has made the immense
project possible. Since coming North, Mr.
Rourke has gained some of his weight,
and the "bean diet" of Boston promises to
give him those shapely proportions that
become a dignified official in a cultured
city.
* * *
'X'HE raging forest fires in Idaho, Mon-
* tana and Washington have concen-
trated attention on the Forestry Depart-
ment, and the report of Henry S. Graves,
United States Forester, indicates how
little the damage by such fires is realized
outside of the territory devastated. The
vital parts of the tree are not so sensitive
to intense heat in the fall as in the early
part of the growing season, when active
cell division is taking place. Forest fires,
reports Mr. Graves, are deeply injurious
to the soil as well as destructive to the
trees.
Nothing seems quite so full of horror
as the devastation wrought by forest fires,
which, spreading mile after mile, leave
in the place of gigantic trees and luxuriant
foliage charred stumps and black stubble.
Few things can compare with this deso-
lation and waste; the atmosphere for weeks
after seems hot and oppressive from the
smoke, beneath which beautiful tracts of
Photo by Conlin, Boston
SUPT. L. K. ROURKE
timber have been laid low by the ravages
of the flame.
The causes of these fires are being
thoroughly investigated, and jealousies
between the sheep-herders and the farmers
in the Northwest are said to have awak-
ened suspicion.
* * *
THE opening of Congress reminds us
that, of the thirty-four thousand bills
introduced last session, one hundred and
twenty-two affect railroads exclusively.
154
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
The bills cover a wide range — regarding
rates, operation and in many cases making
laws of certain customs already observed
by the railroads.
One bill provides that fifty thousand
dollars be appropriated for the investiga-
tion in certain colleges of the value in
railroading of certain mechanical devices.
JOSEPH PELS
Another limits the hours of a railroad man
and imposes a penalty for permitting any
employe to work more than eight hours
without an intermission.
The Interstate Commerce Commission
has been given the authority to appoint
three hundred local inspectors without
the intervention of the civil service, and
they can for cause withdraw from service
at any time locomotives that are consid-
ered unsafe.
AN active figure in the recent British
•**• budget campaign was Joseph Pels,
an American merchant who has for some
years resided in England. He is an ardent
champion of the single tax, and one of
those wealthy men who feel keenly the
responsibility of the possession of money.
He has said: "A man has no right to be
rich unless he uses his money to make
mankind better and happier." Mr. Pels
has been very active in the recent cam-
paign, and it is a curious fact that both
American methods and American music
were used in this movement. "The Land
Song" is set to the tune of "Marching
through Georgia." The first verse runs:
"Sound a blast for freedom, boys, and send it
far and wide!
March along to victory, for God is on our side!
While the voice of nature thunders o'er the
rising tide!
God made the land for the people."
"Land Monopoly Must Clear" goes
well to the air of "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp,
the Boys are Marching." The English
champion of the single tax theory bears
the same name as Henry George, the
American who wrote "Progress and
Poverty." There is a very decided con-
necting link between the economics of
Henry George and the principles of Lloyd
George, Chancellor of the Exchequer, in-
volved in the British budget fight. Mr.
Joseph Pels has been a close student of
social questions, and years ago was con-
vinced that the proper solution of the
problem of the unemployed in the British
Isles was to help the poor to help them-
selves, by providing them with land to
cultivate. This could only be done by
taking measures to force those owning
idle lands to place them under cultivation —
hence the land tax.
In his beautiful home in Kent, Mr. Pels
has devoted himself to a careful study of
all these matters, and he is convinced that
the single tax is the best means of pro-
viding for the unemployed, rather than
charity, public or private. He is de-
voting every spare moment to the cause,
and some have not hesitated to ascribe
to his aid the success of the land campaign.
Real American banner posters were a
prominent feature in sustaining the in-
terest of the stirring meetings. During
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
155
FEDERAL CEMETERY, FAYETTEVILLE, ARKANSAS
.Established and cared for by Federal Government
the recent campaign the writings and
speeches of Henry George and -other
writers were .sold at meetings, and were
even disseminated in the colonies, for it was
thought advisable to bring colonial influence
to bear upon the vital question at home.
* * *
CTATISTICS accumulate every year to
*^ prove that Great Britain remains the
best customer of the United States. Nearly
one-half of our exported manufactures
go into British territory, and form one-
third of the total imports received by that
nation. This is most gratifying in view
of the fact that Great Britain is the greatest
manufacturing country of Europe. It
also speaks well of the aggressive policy
of the American manufacturer and the
quality and price of his goods. Germany
follows Great Britain closely in American
importations, but the more statistics are
studied the more closely allied appear the
trade relationships between the British
Empire and the United States. Mr. O. P.
Austin, the famous government statistician,
has a way of arranging these reports that
makes dry figures thrill with the interest
of one of the latest "best sellers."
IN the work of the Monetary Commission
* Mr. Abram P. Andrew is doing valiant
service. Mr. Andrew is an economics writer
of distinction. He was educated at Law-
renceville, New Jersey, and later attended
Harvard; he also studied at the univer-
sities of Halle, Berlin and Paris, and in
1906 received a diploma as "officier
d* Academic" from the French Minister of
Public Instruction. In 1900 he was made
instructor in the department of economics
at Harvard University; three years later
he^ became assistant professor, which posi-
tion he occupied until 1909. In 1908 he
joined the Monetary Commission and was
given two years' leave of absence from
Harvard to visit every important financial
centre in Europe with Senator Aldrich,
chairman of the commission. They col-
lected information relating to the preven-
tion of financial crises.
Since his return Mr. Andrew has been
busy editing the reports of the Commission,
contained in almost forty volumes, being
the most comprehensive monetary re-
ports ever published and dealing with the
banking systems of the whole world. His
numerous articles on currency and banking
CONFEDERATE CEMETERY, FAYETTEVILLE, ARKANSAS
Cared for by the loving hands of Southern women, through the Southern Memorial Association
156
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
ROYAL PALMS AT ANCON HILL IN PANAMA
have always attracted
widespread attention,
and his published studies
on currency questions
are regarded as text
books. His recent pub-
lication of information
on the panic of 1907,
and the substitutes for
cash used in that crisis,
is the most up-to-date
book of its kind yet
brought out. In this he
describes two hundred
different substitutes for
money used at that
time. Mr. Andrew was
born in La Porte, In-
diana, and is the grand-
son of Abram Piatt
Andrew, a pioneer sur-
veyor who settled in
Indiana in 1818.
TROPICAL GARDEN
First work of Mr. Schultz on the Isthmus
ministration' and the country in
general, his position has called
for firmness, judicial and execu-
tive ability and dispatch.
An illustration of his posses-
sion of all three attributes is
shown in a single incident: When
the Philippine Tariff was being
considered, the President directly
consulted the Tobacco Trust and
asked if the importation of three
million cigars free of duty would
affect them. They said it would.
Four million, then? They thought
perhaps it would not.
"Well," he said, "sup-
pose we make it three
million." The result was
that the Philippines have
prospered with a vir-
tually open market in
the states. Everyone
got what they wanted
and little was heard
about the good results.
Thus by going directly
at the proposition and
all the parties directly
concerned without play-
ing on passion and senti-
ment, President Taft
accomplished legislation
which was of inestimable
advantage to the Philip-
pines, though he did not
disturb the industries of
this country. President
Taft never attempts to
play on public sym-
TN the present administration,
* it has been evident to any
close observer that President
Taft threw aside all the old-time
methods of politicians and de-
voted himself exclusively to the
duties of chief executiveship.
Called to office when the country
was passing through a period
of supreme hypocrisy, in which
the men who are responsible
for whatever political corruption
exists cry aloud against the
President, the cabinet, the ad-
TRAINING GAME COCK AT SANTIAGO
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
157
A TYPICAL ISTHMUS BUILDING
pathy. There is no protest
when the front pages of the
press glow with reports of the
glories of Roosevelt and his
concrete achievements are
overlooked; no envy of the
pilgrimages made to Oyster
Bay; affairs at Washington
are quiet though busy — the
executive machinery is di-
rected by a steady, firm
hand.
When President Taft wants
to get at a railroad proposi-
tion, he talks with a
railroad president and
the railroad men — in
other words, he goes to
get evidence direct from
the people who are
vitally concerned, and
then the matter is closed
with the consciousness
that a duty is performed
to the advantage of all
closely interested.
The President has
played the role of ar-
biter in no end of cases
which have never ap-
peared in public print,
and when a pledge has
been made to the people,
he feels that it is im-
perative to carry it out.
When he goes at a thing,
he follows the methods
enacted by the Constitu- GRAFTED MANGO
tion and tested in years Bearing at 2J years instead of 5 years for
' regular mango. Ancon HUls in background
gone by. Presidential;
has first, last and always
a legal and judicial mind.
His Cabinet, appointed
on the day of inaugura-
tion, remained intact
after over a year of
bitter and invidious as-
sault on some of its
members, and has been
altogether one of the
most harmonious bodies
of public men that ever
gathered around a presi-
dential cabinet table —
but the indications
are that, as Alger was
sacrificed — one mem-
ber of Taft's cabinet
at least must be of-
fered to assuage the
rising temper of insur-
gency.
ON THE ROAD— SANTIAGO TO AGUADULCE — 45 MUef
THE successor of E. H. Harri-
man, Judge Robert Scott
Lovett, began life on a farm;
he was born in Texas, and
despite the losses entailed upon
his family by the Civil War, his
father desired to educate the
boy for a doctor. The son had
no taste for the medical pro-
fession but desired to be a
lawyer. His father had gone
through some unpleasant ex-
periences with legal gentlemen
and was somewhat prejudiced
158
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
against the craft, and classed them root and
branch as "polished rascals." Father and
son were equally positive, it would seem, in
their opinions, and when a contractor came
Shepherd, a small hamlet which had
sprung up on the railroad, near the home
town. At this time he was a lively sales-
man and good accountant, and earned
THE SPORTSMAN'S PARADISE IN FLORIDA
along with his mules and tents all ready
to undertake railroad construction, the
lad hired as a common laborer, at the age
of fifteen. Saving his money while work-
ing on the West Texan Railroad, Robert
Lovett contrived to pay his expenses at
Houston High School, and later went to
the princely salary of ten dollars a month
and his board.
Finally the young man was promoted
to the position of station agent. He was
considered especially good as a billing
clerk, and with his other labors at night
he studied law and Latin; like many self-
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
159
taught students, he was thorough, and
today a better educated man does not
exist. In a biography published some
years ago, it is said that he received
"private instruction" after leaving the
high school at Houston. At the age of
skilful questioning elicited the fact that
in the opinion of the owner the dog was
worth fifty dollars. On this evidence the
favorable verdict for the owner of the
dog was reversed, when the case was carried
to a higher court and won by young Lovett.
JUST A BIT OP FLORIDA SCENERY EN ROUTE TO OKAHUMPKA
twenty-two, he began the practice of law,
and he soon became one of the attorneys
for the railroad. His first case dealt with
a dog killed by a freight train. The
owner sued for $19.50; the case was
brought before the justice, because had it
been over twenty dollars it must have gone
\g another court Ori the wuness stand
IF ever there was a fertile brain that
works intensely, seeming to evolve a
new idea every hour of the day, it is that
of Thomas A. Edison. No sooner had
his plan been made for the concrete house,
which he believes to be the most sanitary
of all habitations, than his casual visit
to a modern department store^suggestecl
160
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
THOMAS ALVA EDISON
the possibility of an "automatic store" in
which there will be no clerks, no counters,
no waiting for change and none of the un-
pleasant features of shopping. The whole
thing is one complete mechanism so simple,
says Mr. Edison, that one will wonder
when it is in operation why it has never
been discovered before. He believes that
the adoption of the automatic store will
revolutionize modern shop-keeping. No
wonder that Florida is proud of him
as a winter citizen, for he, too, finds time
to enjoy the winter in "the land of
enchantment" 1
"The Congressional Library, which speaks a great
Achievement in modern American architecture."
EL
e
INSPIRATION
O.
WA'iflTNGTON-
T IS no idle sentiment to acclaim the National Capital the
city beautiful of the United States. No one has ever visited
Washington without being mightily impressed and delight-
fully surprised at the natural and architectural beauty of
that majestic city.
If any American citizen feels that his patriotism needs a stimulant,
if the political turmoil and petty strife of the times make him cynical
and doubtful of the certainty of this great nation's- future success
and prosperity let him spend a week at the Heart of the Republic
and he will come away a new man, knowing that while there is yet
great work to be done that which has been accomplished has been
blessed with all the sincerity and squareness of which mortal man has
been capable.
While contemplating the charming vistas of Washington the
visitor is probably most greatly thrilled by the massive Capitol.
Walking about the grounds which carry a decided atmosphere of
mid-century architecture he is sure of a startling surprise at the sky-
filling capacity of the great dome. Looking down Pennsylvania
Avenue, viewing it from the surrounding country, this impression of
great size still obtains. He gazes on it with the sure conviction that
"He is sure of a startling surprise at the
sky-filling capacity of the great dome.
gj
this great white mass standing out against the blue is a most fitting
and appropriate figure-head for these United States.
Directly opposite and facing the front of the Capitol stands the
Congressional Library, which forms a charming supplement to that
great white edifice. Both the interior and exterior of this wonderful
building display a richness and harmony of design and execution that
speak the great accomplishment of modern American architecture.
Furnishing a striking and pleasing contrast in form yet standing
in perfect ethical harmony with the rest of this great city, Washington
monument shoots upward to meet the heavens. Located near the
Smithsonian grounds and the national museum, casting its shadow
across the bank of the historic Potomac, this pure white shaft stands
like an immovable sentinel overlooking the country for miles around.
Depending on the ever-changing sky for a background and catching
cloud shadows gives a pleasing variety of effect that is very beautiful
and surprising for a structure so simple in design.
Among the other interesting buildings is the White House with
the feeling of its public significance, yet conveying the impression that
it is a home; the Treasury building, with its immense granite pillars
giving the fundamental idea of strength and security which is so
satisfying; the War Department Building of rather complex archi-
tecture and guarded at its many entrances by giant cannon. All
seems to be harmony and unity. Everything is working together and
above all it is American.
No American citizen can look upon these scenes without a feeling
of pride; a feeling of partnership with the ninety millions who built
and own this great government. As he pauses and allows his fancy
to dwell on the great men and events of the past that have made
Washington their base of operations he cannot but feel that these
rugged, rock-bottom men were the makers of this greatest nation.
He cannot help knowing, as a great wave of patriotism surges through
him, that the future of this republic depends on the big truth-loving
men who fight for squareness and who spurn littleness and wrong.
This is the spirit of Washington.
***********
What a wide range of emotions is experienced in one's first im-
pression of Washington! If all these varied impressions could be
collated from the thousands who every year visit the national Capital
LI
&ijki$ji
I
"The White House— although not the true front,
It Is the side most familiar to the public."
ii yg
for the first time they would furnish a symposium of fascinating
interest.
Every trip calls forth a different feeling: arriving during the rush
and turmoil of an inauguration when there is probably a most repre-
sentative gathering of patriotic Americans; arriving while Congress
is in session with its feeling of dignified routine stirred up by occasional
outbursts of oratory and insurgency; or arriving in the middle of the
quiet summer when Washington sleeps and taking on its most beautiful
aspects in color and brilliancy seems to coquettishly beguile the men
and events that make Washington so stirring in other seasons to re-
turn and be near her when she is at her best. A native of Washington
very aptly said in his fascinating Southern drawl: "I tell you right
now, suh, the winter may be all right when you want to see the big
fellers, like Bill Taft, swingin' down the avenue on his morning hike,
or Joe Cannon duckin' in to his ten-cent breakfas', but, ma friend,
if you want to see us when we're right pretty come along in the
summer-time."
This first impression is associated with the rush, suit-case in hand,
to find a hotel, without more than a fleeting glance at the striking
beauty of the new station. But when the giant dome of the Capitol
lifts its massive form before your gaze you are handed a thriller
for a surprise. "Good Heavens!" you exclaim, "Is that the Capitol?
Well, the photographs don't do it half the justice it deserves."
In the hotel there is the hurly-burly rushing to the desk and
into the elevators, as in any other hotel in any other city, save that
you are continually touching elbows, here and there, with some nota-
ble, who may be smoking in the lobby, talking with some colleague,
or leaning over the registry desk in conversation with the clerk. The
whisper about of "That's he!" "See that tall fellow leaning over the
cigar counter? That's M . Look, there he is," wakes you up to
the fact that you are among as fine a group of big men as you could
hope to see in any similar place in the world. They certainly look the
part. Their rugged, big-boned virility is all the more enhanced by
the occasional appearance in their midst of a dandy member of the
"leisure class" picking his way daintily across to the candy counter
in his never-to-be-forgotten neck-tie and immaculate glove-fitting-
suspicion-of-corsage suit. Here you will see a tall distinctive Souther-
ner in black frock-coat and black soft hat. There you see a white-
ID
I
'Washington Monument stands like an Immovable
m
haired Senator in tall hat and square-toed boots every inch breathing
of power and decision. Everywhere are thest firm-mouthed, big-brained
leaders of government that call forth the convincing impression that
you are among men.
The impressions which one has on first seeing and coming in
personal contact with the big men at Washington is far from being
disappointing in any respect. One of the most striking pictures to
be found in the Capitol is that of Uncle Joe Cannon at his place in
the House, standing, gavel poised in air, his white head in strong
relief against the silk flag which hangs behind him. Everyone is fa-
miliar with this scene on paper, but to see it in reality is to feel very
deeply the imposing significance of it. When a person has become
somewhat interested in the various happenings and scenes which are
contained in magazines and newspapers his imagination usually em-
bellishes the facts to such an extent that when he is thrown in contact
with these things he is usually somewhat disappointed, and is inclined
to be chagrined at the comparatively commonplace aspect of his
objects of fancy. But this is very seldom the case with regard to the
personalities about the National Capital. At the White House, for
example, when the President in his jovial, thump-you-on-the-back
greetings at a White House reception stands in the blue room, now
laughing boisterously at some witty sally, then changing suddenly
when a more earnest subject is under discussion, always carrying the
idea of bigness, mental as well as physical, the student of men's charac-
ters is sure to remark that here for once is where his man comes up to
expectations. And so it is with all of these men.
It should be the privilege as well as the duty of every young man
in America to visit Washington during the formative period of his
life. This is what he gains: as is mentioned above, he cannot but
feel the thrill of pride and sense of joint ownership with his fellow-
countrymen that will drive through him; he will see some of the good
work that is being done in this government with sufficient force to
displace his false impression of graft and politics as manufactured by
yellow newspapers and radical periodicals; and above all he will
receive a strong impetus to take a personal interest in the affairs at
the Capital; he will be supplied, while reading of events that take
place there, with a tangible and practical picture of familiar scenes
and men to aid him in judging these affairs with an enlightened mind.
The GREAT COUP
By FRAN 1C E • CHANNON
illustrated E[y ARTHUR HUTCHIN5 ^
( Continued from November number )
CHAPTER X
STRATAGEM
was no chance to say a
word, of course. We parted, and
a minute later I found myself
in my own stateroom, with an
armed guard inside and one posted at the
door.
"I shall lie down and get some rest, now,"
I observed, looking at my watch, which
I had set by the ship's chronometer, "Be
so good as to call me at two o'clock — it is
now four minutes to ten."
The man nodded, as he answered in an
Irish brogue: "Sure."
In spite of the position in which I found
myself — in spite of my troubles, I had
scarcely touched the pillow before I was
asleep.
I was awakened by the guard rapping
me sharply on the shoulder.
"It's two o'clock," he said.
I propped myself up on my elbows and
glanced around. There was a slight swell
on. My watch hands pointed to half a
minute past two. I addressed the man,
as I slipped into my clothes: "I wish to
be taken to inspect the tackle and gear,"
I said.
"Very good," was the reply, and he
thumped with the grip of his six-shooter
on the door. Instantly, it was flung open,
and my wish was repeated to the outside
guard. With one of them on either side
I was conducted along into one of the bow
compartments, where I commenced to
examine the cables and heavy chains.
I had noted that a massive crane had been
erected on the deck, and I now called for
a working crew to rig it up. "And," I
remarked, "I should like something to
eat while they are getting out the gear."
I did ample justice to the rather elaborate
meal that was served — it was well served,
too, and refreshed in body and mind I
returned to superintend the task allotted
to me.
I saw nothing of Ward, and I was in-
formed, on inquiry, that he was engaged
in his stateroom with some duties.
My working crew was a willing, but
inexperienced one, and it was not until
six o'clock that I had the crane rigged
up to suit me. My every move and action
was closely watched. Once the Count
came out and eyed me for half an hour. He
did not speak, neither did I. Allison was
hovering around a great part of the time,
and twice my lady of the violet eyes came
to look at us as we toiled. She chatted
in friendly, unassumed manner as she
stood by, but I had to excuse myself,
as my gang required all my attention.
"Oh, certainly," she cried, in answer
to rriy apology; "you must not allow me to
stop you ; I am only curious to see how you
are going to lift those great heavy cannons
onto the ship. What would happen, Mr.
Brice, if one of them should slip?"
"Slip where?" I inquired— "into the
sea or onto the deck?"
"Well, of course, it would sink if it fell
into the sea — I meant the deck."
"It would stave it in, my lady."
"Would it sink the ship?"
"She is too well divided by bulkheads
for that, but she would be so crippled
that she would have to make for the nearest
dock-yard."
"You will be very careful, won't you?"
"Oh, very careful, my lady."
"We dine at eight, Mr. Brice; my father
and I will be very pleased if you will honor
(169)
170
THE GREAT COUP
us with your company," she invited, as she
walked away.
"I shall be delighted," I responded.
My words were light and careless, but
God knows what a tempest was raging
within me. How much — good God, how
much hung upon the actions of a single
man. I have not Ward's skill in conceal-
ment of feeling ; I am of a hotter tempera-
ment, and I fancy some of my excitement
was visible when I took my seat in the
revolving chair at the Count's dinner table.
My lady presided. The Count was at
the foot of the table. Ward and I sat
opposite to each other, and Allison was
on my right. I received a shock as I dis-
covered his neighbor to be the man with
the scar on his face — the fellow who had
shot at me that night when I was so un-
expected a visitor to the lodge room of
"The Lion and Eagle Society." I was in-
troduced to him, and he bowed, gravely,
as he heard my name. I owed that fellow
one, and only prayed that I might get a
chance to repay it.
Ward had dressed for dinner. Where
on earth he obtained the suit from I don't
know, but I know that he would not have
attended unless he was supplied with black.
I think Ward has never in his life eaten
dinner unless he was in black — he may
have neglected it when a baby, but cer-
tainly not since he had been his own
master. My lady had changed her white
suit for an elaborate dinner gown of soft,
creamy material. She wore a massive
gold band between the elbow and shoulder
of her left arm, and a jewelled collar
glistened around her white throat.
It all seemed very unreal to me. Here
I was playing at a game of life and death,
and yet chatting, and saying pretty
nothings to the charming girl at my side.
Less than twelve hours ago I had insulted
her. I felt like a churl and a thousand
times wished the words unsaid. She might
be — she probably kwas — playing her part,
but what man does not chide himself for
being ungallant. And she was so young —
and — and so beautiful.
"I am coming on deck, Mr. Brice, to
see -you lift those great cannons on the
things," she said.
"I shall be charmed, mademoiselle,"
I replied.
"I am afraid Mr. Brice is not truthful,
Hortense," laughed the Count, who
seemed capable of making himself very
agreeable when he wished. "I have heard
that sailors detest nothing so much as
having women around when they have
work on hand; is not that true, Mr. Brice?"
"There are exceptions to every case,
Count," I evaded.
"Mr. Brice is, I am sure, too much of
a lady's man not to desire to be in their
company at all times," purred Allison.
Suddenly Ward's sharp tones cut into
the conversation: "What time will it
take you to get these things placed,
Milton?" he inquired, his keen gray eyes
fixed on my face.
"Six, at least."
"And you start at midnight?" — this
to the Count.
"At midnight, sir."
"That will bring it six a. m. before you
get it done, then, Milton. What's the
next move after that, Count?"
I could see the chief was startled at
the somewhat frank turn the conversa-
tion had taken.
"It would scarcely interest you, Mr.
Willet, to know; we shall not call on you
until some days later, I expect."
"Oh, mon pere, tell the gentlemen
something at least; how can you expect
them to be interested unless they know?"
remonstrated his daughter.
"Hortense, there are matters for men
and matters for women — this is for men-
refrain from endeavoring to force my
hand," chided her father.
"Oh, it doesn't concern me in the least,"
disclaimed Ward, "but I was merely
thinking that perhaps after it was all over
you might have wished you had taken
me a little more into your confidence."
"Eh, what is that?" demanded the
Count.
"Nothing, sir, nothing of importance;
I intend to retire early this evening and
sleep through the entire bustle. I under-
stand nothing whatever about guns or
any other dangerous implement."
"You will be on deck, and be very much
awake during the entire bustle, as you
call it, sir," snapped our host.
"Outrageous," murmured Ward. Then
he added quickly, and aloud: "I am your
THE GREAT COUP
171
guest now, sir; let us drop the subject —
at least while we are dining."
"Exactly," agreed the Count, and the
conversation changed. I am sure now,
after I come to look back on it, that it
was Ward who started an animated dis-
cussion regarding airships, or some other
subject of interest. To me, who knew my
friend so well, it was very obvious that he
had angered the Count into an assertion
that he (Ward) should be on deck at mid-
night, fearful lest he would be kept in his
room during that momentous period. Now
he would allow himself to be apparently
unwillingly forced on deck.
It was ten o'clock when we finally with-
drew from the table. Another hour was
passed in aimless chatter, and then as
six bells sounded from above, I advised
our host that I must retire in order to
make some preparation for getting my
working gang ready.
"I expect you are acting wisely, Mr.
Brice," he acquiesced. ''Allow me to
conduct you to your room."
"I will go, too," muttered Ward. "Since
you are determined that I shall get no
sleep tonight, Count, I would like to
change for some more suitable clothes."
I was two paces behind the Count, and
as many in front of Allison when Ward
came hurrying along behind me. "Oh,
Milton," he called, "can't you manage to
put that thing off until one? I certainly
would like to get a little sleep tonight;
I have had no rest to speak of for the last
forty-eight hours — how about it, Count?"
As he brushed past me, apparently intent
on securing the ear of the Chief, I felt a
little scrap of paper thrust into my hand. .
Instantly, my fingers closed on it, and the
next second I had palmed it. I heard Ward
arguing with the Count before me, en-
deavoring apparently to make him re-
consider his order. I heard the Chief
^snarl: "No, sir, not a moment; do you
think this is an affair which can wait be-
cause a man happens to be tired?" Then
came Ward's voice again, and finally the
Count's, loud and angry: "Once and for
all, no, sir, you will be there under guard."
"Au revoir, gentlemen," gaily called
my lady from the dining saloon, and we
made our way along the corridor toward
our own stateroom.
My guard was awaiting me, but under
pretext of the door sticking, I fumbled with
it for a brief moment — long enough to glance
at the scrap of paper in my palm. It read:
"Follow my lead on deck tonight."
CHAPTER XI
AT MIDNIGHT!
I was scarcely inside my room, when a
seaman appeared in the doorway. He
touched his cap respectfully:
"Skipper's compliments, sir, and he
reports 'The Assist' signals herself by
wireless three miles nor '-east of us. He
would like to' see you in the pilot house
before you start work."
"Very good," I replied. "What's it
doing outside — kicking up some?"
"Just a swell, sir, but coming on."
I hastily changed, and in another five
minutes was on deck, attended by my ever-
watchful escort.
"What's the skipper's name?" I in-
quired.
"Captain St. Lislie," growled the man.
"He wants to see me in the pilot house."
"Go ahead; we're behind you."
I climbed up on the bridge and made
my way inside the chart house. A trim,
slight man of middle age met me.
"Mr. Brice?" he inquired. Then with-
out waiting for a reply: "I am captain
St. Lislie. We shall be alongside the
'Assist' in twenty minutes. I presume
you wish me to keep steam enough to hold
headway. The Chief informs me you
estimate the time required for the work
at about six hours. I look for the sea to
increase somewhat. Do you anticipate
any difficulty from the swell, sir?" •
"It will make work more difficult, and
will very probably increase the time re-
quired for the operation. What tonnage
is the 'Assist?' "
"Four thousand, two hundred — there's
her flare on the starboard bow! You'll find
me here if you require me at any time."
I wheeled about and left him, with my
guards close at my heels. I chuckled as
I recollected the Chief's words: "The
night will be dark — the sea will be smooih."
He was correct in part — the night was
dark — black as ink, but the sea — well,
it was certainly not smooth. The swell
was kicking up with increasing violence.
172
THE GREAT COUP
It was not a pleasant night to shift a
couple of forty-ton guns.
Eight bells clanged out as I reached
the forward deck. I discovered my work-
ing crew lined up ready for me. Close
in — a few cable-lengths away, a dark
mass was rolling in the swell. A tiny light
danced astern of her. Even as I watched
the light came rapidly down on us, and
in a few moments I was able to make out
a small power boat — a twenty-footer — no
greater. There was a hail, and she was
alongside of us. At that moment the Chief,
Allison and my lady, accompanied by
two other men, walked up to where I was
standing. Number One handed me a
pair of night glasses: "You will probably
need them," he explained.
I directed my gaze upon the stranger.
She was all of four thousand tons. Some-
one touched me on the shoulder. I swung
around, and discovered Ward at my side.
"She — " he commenced, but the gruff
command of his guard ordered: "This
way, sir," and my chum was hustled away
to the port rail.
The Chief and Allison, with my lady
at their side, strolled up to me. "Every-
thing promises well, Mr. Brice, does it
not?" questioned the Count.
"It's a little rolling for the transfer, but
I guess we'll make it," I responded.
"I guess we will," he repeated, emphasis
on the "guess."
From the power boat a short, thick-set
man climbed up on our deck. There was
a rapid exchange of words in German
between him and the Chief, and then he
turned to me, evidently directed there.
"Ve're all ready; I haf dem slung, but
not hoisted."
"You must run in close alongside and
grapple," I said. "My crew will make
fast; we'll make her tight fore and aft
and ride together on the swell; all my
booms and light work are run in; get yours
the same, and no damage will be done.
Tow your power boat astern out of the
way. Where are your two guns — for-
ward or aft?"
"Both forward."
I got my crew stationed along all ready
for the impact.
"You had better not stand so close to
the rail, my lady," I advised Miss De-
Arcey, as I found her leaning oversides,
an interested spectator.
"Your orders shall be obeyed, Monsieur
le Capitaine," she answered, courtesying
with mock humility.
The big, dark mass of the approaching
ship was slowly drifting down on us from
windward. I put away my glasses and
grasped my trumpet:
"Stand by! All ready, there!" I warned.
She was coming in stern first by a lot,
and I hurried aft to see connections made
there first. The little power boat bobbed
and leaped astern. I heard the sound of
hastening feet close behind me, as my guard
and the interested spectators followed me.
"Hang tight, there, all!" I yelled,
"there'll be a shock."
Ward went tearing past me, evidently
intent on observing all; a guard was on
either side, and I heard one of them order:
"Not so fast, there, not so fast." He
slowed up just as he reached me.
"Stand ready!" he hissed.
I knew the supreme moment had ar-
rived. High up on the swell rose the on-
coming vessel. Down, down she came!
With a swirl of water, and a churning of
her screws, as she endeavored to reverse
she rode in with tremendous force. I
saw the little knot of onlookers grasp
involuntarily at supports, as they braced
themselves for the shock. My two at-
tendants, with the impulse of self-preserva-
tion, for a second relaxed their vigilance,
as they caught at some stanchion irons.
Swirl — swirl — in she rode — crash — crash!
and she ground her sides. There was a
jumbling of humans, a few cries of dismay,
• and I waited for no more.
"Now!" yelled Ward, close at my elbow.
With all the pent-up strength and in-
dignation that was in me, I wrenched
myself away from my guards. Right and
left I gave it to them like lightning, and
they dropped like logs. For one brief
second our plans were threatened, but
only for a second. One fellow hung onto
Ward. I uppercut him with such force
as I hope I may never again strike man,
and he crumbled up like a smashed egg-
shell. Almost simultaneously Ward and
I, like a single man, sprang and went
oversides. There was a slight splash,
and the waters closed over my head. I
THE GREAT COUP
173
dived as shallow as possible, and as I
came to the surface, Ward bobbed up a
yard away.
"Dive — power-boat," he spluttered, and
I went down again.
Twenty strokes and we were there.
Desperately, I clutched at her gunwale.
I saw Ward's hand grasp it at the same
instant. I raised myself to climb in. I
was almost oversides, when a fellow
scrambled over from the stern and brought
his fist down with a crash on my bare
head. I saw a thousand stars, but I
clutched at him, madly. He tried to
shake me off, but I hung on like a leech.
Ward was over — he was in the boat — he
had the fellow around the belt. He lifted
him up with a strength I never gave him
credit for, and hurled him overboard.
He grabbed me by the collar and com-
menced to haul me in. There was a flash
of fire from the great ship. A ball sung
past and splintered the steel sides. Then
another flash. Then another, but I was
in. Ward was already in the bows. I
heard him fling the lever down and whizz
the wheel round. A chunk — chunk — and
we were under way. I was beside him in
a moment.
"Give me the wheel!" I yelled. I kicked
the lever back to the limit, and we shot
out into the black night. I headed her
round the tall stern and flew past on the
starboard side. The glaring beams of a
great searchlight were already flashing over
the waters. I could hear the confusion
of many shouts.
"Crawl over and get that painter in,"
'I ordered.
Ward leaned over and began to pull it.
"It's— it's stuck— why, good God, there's
someone on it!" he shouted.
"Hit 'em over the head," I cried.
He had raised his fist to bring down the
smash, when he suddenly stopped.
"My God, Milton, it's a woman!" he
exclaimed.
The boat was heeling over with their
weight. There was not a second to lose.
Speed was everything now.
"Get her in or knock her off," I ordered.
For a second he hesitated. Then he
leaned over and lifted, wet and limp, into
the bottom of the boat the lifeless form of
my lady of the violet eyes!
CHAPTER XII
A YARMOUTH SKIPPER
"Hell!" cursed Ward wickedly under his
breath, as he gazed at the face of the uncon-
scious girl.
"Thank God!" I muttered. "She is
saved from this thing."
There was no time for more. Next
moment the searchlight swept past us
groping out into the inky night like some
giant hand seeking for its prey. Back and
forth, up and down it swept. I put the
helm hard down and doubled on our track
for two minutes. Then over it went again
and we were headed past the ship on the
port side — the smaller steamer between
us and our enemies.
I could hear the boats being launched;
a searchlight sprang up on the "Assist."
If once that beam of light fastened upon
us, I knew we were lost; it would never
lose us again. Twice it came within an
ace of getting us, but our luck held. If
they had made a systematic search we
were discovered, but they were excited,
and flashed it here, there, up and down,
without any sure method, and while they
blundered about we ran on swiftly into
the darkness.
"Look to her, Ward," I whispered, fear-
fully, half afraid, even at that distance,
to speak aloud, and unable to leave the
helm for a moment. "Is she dead?"
"No, coming to," he growled back out
of the blackness. "What in the dickens
made her fall over side; I should think
we had trouble enough without her loading
in — confound it."
"She didn't come on purpose, you idiot,"
I retorted. "The shock probably knocked
her overboard. Do your best there, for
God's sake; get the water out of her lungs,
then wrap her up in this coat." I flung
my short pea jacket over to him, as I spoke.
He growled, but I heard him working
over her. From astern I could plainly
hear the rattle of oars in rowlocks, and the
voice of the coxswain directing; then a
short blast of the whistle; several lights
sprang up on the "Assist," and I knew
she was getting under way.
"Ward — " I commenced, but a faint
voice interrupted me: "Where — where —
am I?" it inquired faintly.
174
THE GREAT COUP
"You're quite safe; don't worry, ma-
demoiselle," I reassured.
"But where am I — where are we?" she
"persisted.
"We've got away," muttered Ward,
shortly.
"Oh, I remember— I— I fell— I— I— Oh,
Oh!" and she almost screamed, at the
recollection of the disaster.
"Never mind; you are quite safe now;
don't think about it," I said, and even as
I spoke, a blinding shaft of light swept
down on us. I ported my helm and ran
from it, but by pure luck it followed, and
the next instant we were enveloped and
shown up as clear as in brilliant sunshine.
A yell arose from the vessels astern. The
light lost us for a brief moment; then
fastened once again like a leech on us. In
vain I sent her about ; shooting to port and
starboard in rapid. succession; that cursed
ray followed.
"The game's up, Ward, unless we do
something smartly — what's it to be?"
"Overboard and swim for it," was his
sharp response.
"They'll pick you up, mademoiselle," I
whispered, bending over the girl. "You'll
be quite safe; have no fear. Come on,
Ward. No, stop! Steady — ahoy — ahoy —
ahoy — steam cutter, ahoy, there — port
your helm, run down, there — ahoy!"
I had suddenly caught sight of a small
steam cutter on the port bow not more
than ten cables away, and I made the
water ring again with my hail.
It was a heaven-sent opportunity.
If once we could get aboard that craft,
we should yet have a fighting chance.
"Wot the bloody thunder's the trouble
over there?" roared a gruff voice.
There was no time for explanation. I
threw on all power and shot toward her.
"Look out, you lubber, you'll stave your-
self in," warned the voice on the craft,
but I swung around under her starboard
gangway; made fast to some overhanging
tackle. "Get up, Ward!" I commanded,
as I seized the girl in my arms, and almost
threw her on deck. A seaman caught her.
I cast loose and scrambled up after her.
"Cut your cables and get under way unless
you want your throats cut — every man
of you," I roared; "there's some devils
over there that'll stop at nothing."
" 'Ere, wot're you givin' us" growled
the skipper of the unknown craft. "This
'ere's the 'Homer,' eighty-ton steam cutter
o' Great Yarmouth herrin' fleet, hand
Hi'm the Second Commodore o' the fleet —
now who's a-goin' ter cut our bloody
throats — Hi'd like ter see 'em! Who be
ye, anyway? Wot's ye do, scuttled yer
little toy boat?"
He was a big, six-footed, deep-sea
fisherman from the Norfolk county, and
I saw at once I had my work cut out to
persuade him to run from his fishing
ground. I'm a big man myself, and I
ran my arm into his and walked him aft
at a rapid gait. "Look here," I said, and
right there, with the two vessels coming
down on us at a twenty-knot clip, I poured
into his ear the story of the Great Coup.
I did more than that. In less than sixty
seconds I made him understand and be-
lieve the fearful game we were up against.
He stopped short in his walk. He wrenched
his arm away from me, and by the light
of the forward deck lantern I saw his
honest, storm-scarred old face peering
into mine, in an endeavor to read my
naked soul.
"You be foolin'?" he accused.
"Before God, I'm not!" I swore.
"Will ye swear as ye're a-tellin' the hull
truth an' nothin' ^Ise?"
"So help me, God, I am!" I affirmed.
One more sharp, keen glance he shot
at me. I gave it to him back, and I saw
I had him won. He believed me.
"Get yer pal an' the lady below, an*
stay there yerself," he ordered, briefly,
then wheeled about.
They breed sailors there on the east
coast of old England. I had not reached
the companionway, before they had the
two anchors up. There was a tinkle of
bells, and as I stumbled down into the
fish-reeking depths of the craft, leading
mademoiselle by the hand, I felt the cutter
getting under way, and jostled against
eight or ten burly forms tearing up out
of the dim cabin. Overhead there was a
running of naked feet, and the bustle
of work being done in seamanlike style;
below the engine was pounding with
rhythmatic motion, and the noise was
music to my ears. And then came a
whistling and crash overhead, and a
Lifted, wet and limp, into the bottom of the boat the lifeless form of my lady
of the violet eyes
176
THE GREAT COUP
second later the sharp, powerful report of
a six-pounder.
I had laid my lady on a small bunk aft
in the cuddy, and Ward had gone in search
of some brandy, at my request, but as the
report of the discharge died away, she
propped herself up on her elbows and
gazed into my face. Her eyes were almost
agonized, as she wailed: "Oh, they'll
get you again, I know they will; you don't
know them as — as — as I do."
" There '11 be something doing before they
do get us, or I've very much misjudged our
skipper," I comforted.
CHAPTER XIII
A NIGHT BATTLE
As I glanced around, I caught sight
of an old woman just entering the cuddy.
"Now leave the lady with me, sir, and
get you on deck; the master wants ye."
she said.
I turned the spirits, which Ward at
that moment brought to me, over to the
old woman, and followed by my chum,
hastened on deck again. The skipper
had the wheel, and from the squatty funnel
amidship great clouds of black smoke were
pouring. He hailed me loudly, as soon
as he caught sight of me. "Over 'ere; over
Jere!" he roared; then, as I squeezed my-
self in between him and the after deck-
light, "Hi'll give those bloody devils a
run fur their money," he promised me.
"What can she do?" I questioned.
"Oh, she ain't what you may call
speedy," he grinned — twelve's 'bout her
best, but—"
"Twelve!" I exclaimed. "Why, man,
that craft's running easy at twenty knots;
she'll overhaul you in fifteen minutes."
"Wot's she a-goin' ter do when she
does?" he demanded.
"Do! Why, take us off, of course, and
likely enough sink you."
"Will, eh?"
"Why not?"
"She's let go with a pop gun just now,
an' I see some chap knock down the bloke
as fired it. Don't you make no mistake,
mister, they don't want no noise in this
'ere North sea; not much, with Flam-
borough Head nor more than twelve
miles west o' us, an' the hull sea alive
with _ craft likely ter turn up at any
moment — no, there'll be no waste o' gun-
powder ternight if they can get wot they
wants any tother way."
"They'll run you down, then — they'll
ram you."
"Will, eh? Well, I cal'late Hi'll 'ave
somethin' ter say 'bout that too; this 'ere
'Homer' ain't no bird, but I reckon she's
a darn sight more handy than that long
slob o' a craft. Easy, now, keep out o'
sight side o' that light and don't do nothing
'less I tells ye, but I wanted ye on deck
'case of emergencies, as ye might say — lie
down there, too, you mister" (this to Ward).
We had scarcely crouched down before
a hail came over the water:
"Fishing craft, ahoy, there!"
"Ahoy, there, then, you swallow-tailed
dandy, wot do ye want?"
"Lie to; we'll send a boat aboard."
"Not much, ye won't; Hi'm due at
Scarborough in an hour — stand off from
'cross my bows, or ye '11 get a hole put in
'em — Hi ain't waitin' fur no one ternight —
look out, there, ye lubber!"
The long steamer, which had taken a
position ahead of us, sheered off. The
"Assist" was some twenty cables astern,
and coming slowly, rolling badly with her
heavy load in the long swell. Away off
toward the Dutch coast the first gray
lines of morning were commencing to
appear. I can remember well that scene.
As the fishing boat went wallowing past
on the port quarter of the "Revenge,"
a hail again sounded from the big steamer:
"If you don't lie to, I'll sink you."
"There better be no sinking of a British
craft in these waters, or ye'll 'ave the hull
o' the King's navy after ye," roared back
our skipper.
For a couple of minutes the larger boat
manoeuvered, then she ranged up again
on our starboard quarter, scarce a cable
way. The "Homer" sheered off, but the
"Assist," which had come up to port of
us, crowded us in. There was a nasty
roll on by this time, and I well understood
that we were dangerously close together;
so did the skipper. He ran full speed
ahead, and the "Homer" wallowed along
at her best speed. She actually out-
footed the "Assist," and in three minutes
was clear of her, but the long, speedy
"Revenge," of course, easily held her.
THE GREAT COUP
177
Suddenly, the Yarmouth skipper re-
linquished the wheel to his quartermaster;
he raised his hands to his mouth and roared
out:
"Give me more sea room, or I'll ram
you, you lubbers!"
There was no answer from the big craft,
and peering across the short space be-
tween us, I distinctly saw in the increasing
light that her port rail was lined with, at
least, a score of men; I even saw, or thought
I saw, the glint of cold steel.
"Look out there!" I warned, "he's
called for boarders away — don't ram her,
or she'll spew a score of them on your
decks."
My cry was too late! The skipper had
shouted an order; the quartermaster
jammed the wheel down, and the "Homer"
drove in at a good twelve knots. She
struck the big vessel fair and square just
aft the engine-room, and the shock flung
us all into confusion. The skipper had
his plans. He gave full speed astern, and
his staunch craft tried to back out of the
rent she had made. Too late! Too late!
I saw a dozen men armed with cutlasses
leap on her forward deck. A gang of men
on the "Revenge" were grappling her
bow on. I waited for no more. "Come
on, boys!" I yelled, and seizing a cutlass
from the nearest man, I sprang forward.
It was fortunate the Yarmouth master
had the foresight to arm and call his men
on deck. There was a good baker's dozen
of them — big, husky fellows, and they
followed me like the true blues they were.
The skipper grabbed up a mighty hatchet,
and with a roar of rage, flung himself
into the melee.
It was bloody work. We cut down or
drove oversides the first party, but they
swarmed down on our deck a good fifty
strong. I am no stranger with the sea-
man's weapon — they teach you the cut-
lass at Annapolis — and I made the best
play I knew. Not a shot was fired; it
was cold steel work. Once they drove
us back down the ladder into the waist
of the cutter, but we rallied and chased
them back again. I never saw a man so
enraged as was that Yarmouth captain.
His great hatchet was everywhere, and he
shouted as fast as he fought.
"Give it to 'em, lad! Give it to 'em—
the bloody devils! — Take that, you lubber
— oversides with 'em, over with 'em!
You'll all swing for this — every mother's
son of ye — blast ye!"
In a towering rage, he led us on to the
bows. With his own good hatchet he
cut the tackle they were grappling us
with.
"Back her, Bill— full speed astern!"
he roared, and the "Homer" wrenched
herself free as the engines reversed. Her
bow was a wreck, and she left a gaping
hole in the side of her enemy. A dozen
of our foe remained on our deck, but they
jumped for it, as we parted. Then a
couple of rifle shots rang out in quick
succession. I heard the lead sing past
my left ear, and as I wheeled about and
sought cover, I saw Ward curl up and sink
on the deck. In an instant I had caught
him up and borne him to the companion-
way, and a.s I ran with him another and
yet another ball sung past me, but I
gained the shelter and sank down with
my chum in my arms. The red blood was
gushing from his mouth.
"Done — for — I — think," he gasped, and
at every word, the crimson stained his
mouth.
Mad with anguish, I rushed with him
below deck into the cuddy. I tore the
coat and shirt away, disclosing a big,
blue, blood-ringed hole in his chest.
"I understand this; let me have him,"
a soft voice whispered in my ear. I turned
about, and beheld my lady of the violet
eyes standing by my side. "Some soft
linen — water, as cold as you can get it —
no, don't lie down, Mr. Willet," she con-
tinued. I dashed away to obey her com-
mand. I could hear the hubbub still
going on above. There was no one to
whom I could apply for help ; there was no
time to search them out. I whipped off
my coat and vest; I tore my shirt from
my body, and ripping it up into lengths
as I ran, I dashed back. She had Ward
supported on her arm; the old woman
whom I had seen before, was by her side
with a vessel of water, and coolly, skil-
fully, tenderly, my lady of the violet eyes
set about her work of saving my chum.
"Hold his head up, Mr. Brice," she
commanded, and I forgot everything else,
as I waited for her look or nod to tell me
178
THE GREAT COUP
what to do, as for an hour she fought
out that fight, and held death at bay,
while poor Ward lay with closed eyes,
with nothing but a feeble gasp now and
again to indicate that the candle of life
still flickered. It was an entirely new
light in which I beheld that beautiful
girl. Heretofore, I had seen her only as
a light-hearted, thoughtless butterfly. Now
she shone out as a woman. I forgot all
about the great peril through which she
herself had just passed, as, fascinated,
I watched her skilfully wage the fight with
the arch-enemy. She had cast aside the
cloak she was wearing on the deck of the
"Revenge" when she fell oversides, and
now worked in that marvelous dinner
gown which she wore in the saloon. Her
hair was in picturesque disorder, and the
band of gold still clasped her arm, sliding
up and down as the muscles played under
the white flesh.
Presently she looked up quickly.
"You really can help us no more just
now, Mr. Brice. Had you not better go
on deck and see how things are there?"
she suggested.
"You think he — he — " I commenced.
She nodded, and that indescribable
smile lighted up her face. "Yes," she
whispered, "he will live. I will take every
care of him. Now, go."
And I turned, with my heart beating
like a sledge hammer, and my pulse on
fire, and stumbled up that narrow com-
panionway, while her smile, her glance,
her gesture, was pictured before me in
lines of fire.
CHAPTER XIV
THE SKIPPER LAYS A COURSE
I had been below perhaps half an hour,
and during that period things had hap-
pened on deck. As I swung myself up
out of the main hatch I noticed that the
sea had increased considerably. The
"Homer" was hove to, and wallowing
comfortably in the heavy swell. Forward,
the skipper and a gang of men were at
work patching up the injured bows. They
had a big tarpaulin out, and had apparently
succeeded in lowering some improvised
kind of a collision mat. It was quite light,
and I looked around for some signs of the
"Revenge" or "Assist," but they were
nowhere to be seen. A couple of miles
away off on the starboard bow a small
fleet of fishing vessels was visible, but
the morning had broken squally, and
presently they were lost to sight, as the
heavy clouds settled down on us.
I walked briskly forward and hailed our
captain. "Good-morning," I called out.
He turned about and looked me hastily
over. "Morning' ter thee," he replied,
"How's thy mate?"
"He's going to pull through, I think."
"Good fur him; I was afeared when
they said as he was plugged in the lungs."
"Any of your boys hurt?"
"Two on 'em, but only cuts; there's
more nor two on 'em with cuts over there,"
he added, chuckling.
He gave a few parting orders to the men,
and then rolled toward me: "Come on
up aft," he suggested, "I wants a word
or so with ye."
He bit off a vast quantity of tobacco,
stowed it snugly away in his left cheek;
flung one huge leg over a capstan bar and
balanced himself cleverly, as he linked
one horny finger to the lapel of my coat,
and nodding his lion's head with convic-
tion, announced:
"Hi'm a-goin' ter see this 'ere thing ter
the finish, see!"
"Yes, that's the sort of man I sized
you up as being," I said.
"Hi wants that yarn spun again, and
a little slower-like than ye did it last
night — not as I doubts ye, mind, but so
as I can sorter get the hang on it, see?
Now first, what might yer name be,
mister.
"Milton Brice," I said, "and yours?"
"Harvey Cassel, master and honer on
the eighty-ton steam cutter 'Homer,'
o' Great Yarmouth — you be a Londoner,
bain't ye?"
"I've lived there many years, but I'm
an American."
"Han Hamerican!" he exclaimed, and
repeated the words several times to him-
self, "Well, now, that do beat hall— but
Hi thought ye was rather a swift 'un,
hand from the way as ye come aboard
last night, I put ye down as a Navy man."
"I am," I said, "U. S. N., though, not
R. N."
"And yer pal— the gent as is below?"
THE GREAT COUP
179
"He's a Londoner born and bred — a
lawyer."
"Hand the young lady?"
I glanced at the steersman, not five
feet away, then leaned forward and
whispered three words in his ear.
"Aye, aye, just so, just so," he muttered.
"Now, listen, mister," he continued.
"Hi've bin a-thinkin' some the last hour,
an' Hi figures as we'll have ter transfer
our crew. Them two crafts has a good
start on us, t but it'll take 'em twelve
hours smart work ter patch up her side,
fur I reckon as the 'Homer' put a right
smartish dent in her. Look ye, now, this
is what I figures on doin': 'The Scout,'
old Captain Jimmy Davis, will be 'long-
side in less than an hour with supplies
and other tack; Captain Jimmy supplies
the fishin' fleet with grub and tack, ye
knows, and he and me knows one 'nother
right smartish-like — he'll take me word
fur a thing, will old Captain Jimmy, an'
if Hi says ter him, 'Jimmy, this 'ere
thing's so, an' the course is laid so,' he'll
'low as 'tis. So Hi '11 say ter him when
he come 'longside: 'Captain Jimmy,''
Hi '11 say, 'Hi wants yer 'Scout' fur a spell,
'cause she's a good twenty-knot boat,
an' Hi want's ye ter run the 'Homer'
in fur me and see her put in Nixon's dry
dock'— that's wot Hi'll tell him, and he'll
say, 'Right and well, Captain Harvey,'
and won't ask no questions. Then we'll
transfer ter 'board the — "
The Captain stopped and glared around,
as a seaman stepped up, and interrupting
him, reported: "The 'Scout's' just stand-
ing in, sir."
"What, so soon? Why, she ain't due fur
an hour yet."
"There she is, sir."
We both gazed in the direction indi-
cated, and beheld close in a long, narrow,
smart-looking boat. She was painted
black, with the exception of her lofty
funnel. Her tonnage I should place at
about a hundred and fifty tons — no more.
"By Jinks, she's on time; old Capt'n
Jimmy always was a stickler for time,"
ejaculated the skipper of the "Homer."
"I cal'late he'll be some surprised when
he hears how the land lies, but I reckon
he knows as when I lays a course I'm
pretty apt ter stick ter it."
The "Scout" was close in by this time,
and in another minute her captain was
climbing aboard our craft. He was old,
all right. He well deserved his name of
"Old Capt'n Jimmy," for I think I never
saw a more ancient-looking sailor aboard
a ship in my life.
There was a hearty hand shake between
the two skippers, and then Captain Cassel
got at once down to business. It took him
fifteen minutes to explain to the ancient
mariner what I had conveyed to him in
sixty seconds a short time previously.
"Then why don't ye put into Scar-
b'rough?" demanded Captain Jimmy,
amazed and almost incredulous.
"There's no use on it now. 'Tis too
late, anyway. There's naught on the
east coast 'twix North Sunderland and
Great Yarmouth as is faster than yourn
'Scout.' The hull King's Navy's down
in the Channel at their blasted maneuvers
an' children's play. They'd never round
North Foreland afore nightfall, even if
we got word ter 'em in an hour, an' by
that time that bloody slippery craft '11
have got her two barkers fixed and be
steamin' past the Shetlands, with naught
'twix her and the Lofodens but a Danish
gunboat or so. There ain't a German ship
as can be got at; their hull North Sea
fleet passed through the Skager-Rack into
the Cattegat, bound fur the Baltic yester-
day— aye, Jimmy, boy, don't ye see as
this 'ere thing's bin planned by bloody
artful rogues; they've timed their run ter
the hour almost, an' all as 'as upset 'em
is the 'scape of these 'ere two gents. They
was determined ter get 'em, an' if I hadn't
rammed 'em an' shook their blasted cut-
throats off, they'd a-got 'em, too; as 'tis
they've nigh done fer one on 'em, fur all
they was a-feard on makin' a rumpus,
they spit lead a dozen times try in' ter
bring 'em down."
Old Captain Jimmy pulled off his sou'-
west cap, and scratched his scant locks,
as he gazed in bewilderment at his friend,
while his ancient face was puckered up
into a hundred lines. "Capt'n Harvey
Cassel," he muttered, "this 'ere thing's
most past all belie vin', ain't it?"
" 'Tis an' hit ain't," admitted the
skipper of the "Homer," "but look ye
'ere, Capt'n Jimmy, Hi takes stock in't.
180 THE LIGHT BEFORE
Come ter look at it bow on, 'tain't so on the 'Homer' and have her taken in ter
mighty improbably a'ter hall, now, be hit?" Scarb'rough. Say, though, Capt'n Harvey,
"By Jinks, hit ain't, but Hi never think ye there's no chance on these rogues
thought on such a thing," admitted a-coming back ter — "
Captain Jimmy. "Not they— not they," muttered the
' An' that's where they gets in their "Homer's" skipper. "They're twenty
work — no one never thought on it — just good knots from 'ere by this time; they
like me an' you, an' belike if this 'ere got no time ter loaf; they must be off the
gent hadn't got hon ter it, no one never Shetlands. by nightfall. We've no time
would, an' they'd have run in their devil- to lose; put Tim Bronson aboard this
ish scheme, but, Capt'n Jimmy, we'll craft, an' we'll get away on the 'Scout'—
stop 'em, God helpin' us, yet — ye be in by Jinks, Jimmy, 'tis dea^l plum lucky
with us, bain't ye?" as you had her bottom scraped less'n
"Ye well knows I be, Capt'n Harvey, a week ago, an' with the hover'aulin' you
but, by Jinks, Hi '11 skipper me own craft. gave her engines, Hi cal'late she'll show
Hi'll not sleep easy in my bunk a-knowin' her best pace, eh?"
as t'other hands was grippin' the spokes "Hi'll wager on her makin' twenty-two
on her wheel. Ye lay the course, an' flat every hour on the twenty-four — Lay
Hi'll follow ye. Ship yer boys aboard yer course, Capt'n Harvey, lay yer course,
the 'Scout,' an' Hi'll put Bronson in charge an' old Jimmy '11 follow it."
( To be continued )
THE LIGHT BEFORE
By EDWARD WILBUR MASON
, who art thou that goes with light
Before my shadowed way,
A cloud of purple mist by night —
A fire of leaves by day?
Lo, I the Autumn old and sere,
I dread the chilling breath
Of winter, and the summons drear
Of my impending death!"
"Nay, neither death nor winter I;
But one more true and strong —
The beauty that can never die,
The dream that blooms in song.
I am the Soul of coming Spring,
And through the gloomy dust
I lead you in a magic ring
Back to the May august!"
Ev e ny b o d/
BUT
by GertrudeJixMillard
E front gate banged, squawking
protest from its uneven hinges,
and the still afternoon air
shrilled suddenly from its brood-
ing peace, pricked by a high sweet pipe.
The battered wreck, sunk in the deep-bot-
tomed splint rocker that stood perpetually
on the back porch, stirred from its apathy,
and a haunting expectation grew into its
sombre gaze.
Quick heels clattered on the low front
stoop, twice-hard to his morbidly await-
ing ears; there was a thud as Tommy's
strapped books missed the sitting-room
table, landing upon the floor, and the clear
notes were eclipsed for an instant as the
boy wrestled with his school shirt, and
projected himself joyously into his sweater.
Then that happened from which the
derelict shrank in half-assured anticipa-
tion ; the whistle leaped into a keen boyish
treble, and the chorus of an evanescent ly
popular street song filled the hollow space
behind him, floated accusingly from the
open window, and beat vibratingly upon
a brain which for weary months past
counting had refused to answer every
stimulus lovingly anxious hearts could
suggest.
"Mother takes in washing,
So does Sister Ann:
Everybody WORKS at our house,
But my Old Man!"
warbled the youngster at the top of his
voice. Then he stopped with his mouth
wide for the repetition. "Gee!" he said,
"Mam told me to cut it out — hope she
ain't anywheres 'round." The man on
the back porch heard that, too, and a
spasm of recognition crossed his haggard
countenance. She was so tender of him,
so patient — that stayed with him always,
a rift in the fog enveloping his faculties.
She had even seen the possibility of this.
And he — he was a hulk ! It had shadowed
him dimly since first he heard that hateful
tune: but now, without warning, his soul
had come to life, and realization choked
him.
The boy darted through the kitchen,
instinctively avoiding that nearer door
giving upon the sheltered crook of the ell
where the invalid dragged out his slow
days, and the swinging crash of an axe,
the rending of pine, and thump of the
thrown stick came successively from the
old shed just out of his vision. Tom was
a little fellow to have kept the fires going
for a year. It had been a year since he,
Jackson Gelett, had swung an axe; and
for the first time it hurt to hear his son
raining quick strokes like a veteran while
he sat helpless.
To the fnan's new, strangely sharpened
nerve, every blow carried a message, and
he winced when the blade failed to fall
true — he who for a twelvemonth had been
dead to all save the most direct personal
address.
The grapes over the tall trellis had been
turning, he remembered he had stopped
to gloat over their abundant promise
on his way to work that very morning
upon which Old 1010 had blown him out
of the roundhouse, a senseless mass of
scalded flesh and broken bone. And now
they were purpling again. Yes, he had
been dead for a year! — And better, far
better, he had been in his grave than a
lump like this, fed, clothed, and cared for,
out of Mary's earnings. He shook in his
weakness as he pictured to himself her
struggle. The Company Doctor would
have come, and the Doctor from his
lodge — his assessments had all been
straight ; and the boys always stood by for
night-nursing when a man was bad. But
there had been next to nothing in the
(181)
182
EVERYBODY WORKS BUT FATHER
bank. Thank God the cottage was paid
for! She had not had to worry about
rent. His unsealed eyes wandered woe-
fully over the once trim little garden.
Mary had been so proud of her spick and
span posy beds. But how could she tend
to them sewing, sewing, all day long?
He remembered now how he had seen her
sewing, through the fog; and the grass
tufts in the pathway, the tall mallows
flaunting among the asters mocked at
his springing pain.
Just out of sight around the kitchen
corner the whistle recommenced; he
fitted the words to it himself.
"Everybody WORKS at our house,
Everybody WORKS at our house."
The accent caught the axe stroke every
bar. He gripped hard at the arms of the
old rocker, and pulling himself up a hand's
breadth, called querulously, " Tommy,
ain't it time for you to go get them papers?"
There was a final crash and silence.
Then a round face white with surprise
bobbed up before him. "You call, Dad?"
demanded the younger scion. "I thought
I heard you call!" Gelett fell back before
the boy's breathlessness. "Time to go for
your papers!" he tried to repeat matter-
of-factly, huddling into his place — his
gorge rose in unreasoning wrath at the
lad's wide eyes and startled tone — but
the words would not come . " Did you want
something?" the eager voice asked again
very earnestly ; but he only shook his head
and motioned the questioner away. It
was a relief to hear the gate bang once
more, and receding footsteps on the hard
walk beyond.
God, but his suffering was just begun!
The long days and nights of agony merging
into his lethargy were a dream. Was it
weeks, or months, it had continued? But
now his soul was alive; alive to face a
horror of uselessness — He who had been
a man of might among men !
Down the street a hand-organ took up
the same accursed strain :
"Mother takes in washing,
So does Sister Ann—"
His Ann was in the candy factory, when
she ought to be in school — that, too, came
back to him out of the mist — and she,
like the boy, would stare at him strangely
if he spoke to her; her face, too, would
go white. He was a thing apart, an in-
cubus, to his own children!
Only Mary, who had wed him "for better,
for worse," Mary kept always her old smile
when her eyes met his. Dear heart ! Was
there mercy in Heaven, that she should be
burdened like this?
He cowered away from his anguish in
the pillowed chair, and oblivion closed
about him as before. His eyes were blank
when they brought him in to tea, and no
one of those who had prayed for it knew
of that brief interval when he had been
aware.
He could not have told whether it was
hours, or days, had passed, when he woke
again. He fancied there was a purpler
blush on the grape clusters climbing al-
most within reach of his nerveless hand.
The sun lay warm and encouraging on his
lifeless knees. And that same lilt rang
insistently at the gateway of his con-
sciousness. The connection did not come
at first, and it called to him like the distant
voice of a friend.
It had been afternoon when he last
tasted the bitter fruit of knowledge; but
now it was golden morning, and the whir
of Mary's machine in the room behind
mingled pleasantly with the grinder's
far-off tune. He was minded to speak
her name, as he had been wont to do dn
times gone by, drawing her attention to
the new day; but a gust brought fitfully
the refrain:
"Everybody works at our house,
Everybody works at our house."
And he kept silent for very shame. He
had not changed. He was a hulk. His
breath caught as he thought ot the shops —
his shops — where he had worked, boy and
man, for thirty years — ever since the
Company had put them into the town.
His own engines would never have treated
him to such a trick — Old 1010 was a
Hoodoo from down the line. It was a good
thing they got her housed before she
blew her head off; she had been running
passenger, and on the road it would have
meant ditching the whole train. Just
what had she done to him, he wondered.
In the fog he could put one foot before
the other if an external force set him in
EVERYBODY WORKS BUT FATHER
183
motion; but his body felt flaccid as he
sat, and he recalled with a sort of terror
the tremendous effort he had made to-
lean forward on that day that seemed like
yesterday. The draw bar must have
loosed between his brain and brawn. He
shuddered over the sarcasm of "brawn"
applied to this pitiful beef of which he
had once been master. It was nightmare
unbelievable that he, full-possessed of
his senses, could never again control that
length of big-boned frame stretching be-
low his vision. What had the doctor
said? — the doctors? — he was sure there
had been two. But neither had been
to see him for a long, long time. That
meant they had given him up. He had
been too overwhelmed to think it all out
the other day — but nevertheless he had
known. Once more the hurt of it dis-
solved his very vitals. Then suddenly
he ceased to care. The music melted
farther away as the player moved around
the block, and the old vacancy crept into
those hollow eyes turned toward the
garden. Only his faithful wife caught
a nicker in their depths as Tommy came
whistling home at noon, and she threw
the lad a warning glance that hushed him
half inside the door.
"Yes, ma'am! He takes a deal more
notice than you'd think, to see him settin'
there," she said soberly, later, to a cus-
tomer evincing interest in the stolid figure
of the chair. "Doctor Evans, he don't
think he'll ever be different — but some-
times I don't know."
"Doctor Evans, he don't think he'll
ever be different." The words registered
themselves somewhere on the retina of his .
numb brain, just as a hundred other in-
cidents of the daily life had done during
the six months since his physician had
bidden them to get him out of bed; and
afterwards he remembered — authorita-
tively confirmed in his sick intuition.
The last time his shroud lifted before
the change, it was evening — Sunday even-
ing, for Ann was at the organ. That his
daughter should learn to play had been a
luxury upon which he had insisted, al-
though he had long denied himself both
pipe and glass to that end.
Music had been his soul magnet from
boyhood; and the sounds evoked by her
little fingers from his dead mother's well-
worn instrument had epitomized his
pleasure since first he could come home,
toil-stained and weary, and toss her up
on the high stool to "play for Pap" while
he cleaned up. And in those terrible
days when his pain-racked form had
writhed deliriously in its bandages, her
hand on the keys could often still his
groans when the medicine was of no avail.
It had been his dearest wish to buy her
a true piano when the house payments
were completed. The utter futility of that
hope pounced upon his awakening, as she
slipped, moment'arily forgetful of its text,
into the melody so bound up with his re-
curring resurrections.
The air tingled through his sullen body
with prick and sting, as does one's life
blood after pressure upon an artery has
temporarily checked the flow. The voice
of his best beloved seemed to tax him
despitefully with his idiotic present, and
his good-for-nothing future. With each
return the pangs of consciousness grew
worse. And the doctor had said [he would
be like this forever.
How should he school his hot heart to
untold years of inexpression? While
Mary, Ann, and even Tommy, not yet
in long trousers, bled their natural lives
to comfort his worthless carcass — not even
knowing that he knew. It had been more
merciful of the Almighty to have left him
as he was. The wrecked uselessness of
this human machine, which had run like
a well-oiled locomotive for nearly fifty
years, would drive him mad.
"Mary!" he managed to enunciate —
concentrating the supreme energy of his
soul on an effort to arise unaided. The
memory of her brave smile held out to
him a straw of hope. He would break
with this bondage or die.
The room swam around him with the
strain. Great beads of sweat welled out
upon his corded forehead. Wife and
daughter sprang to his side at the unac-
customed sound of his tongue. "Jackson!
Jack? My dear!— What is it?" Mary
cried, stooping to encircle him with her
arms.
Cut to the quick by the fear reflected
on her face from the agony in his own, he
tried vainly to bring forth a reassuring
184
EVERYBODY WORKS BUT FATHER
word; even his speech, which had come
readily enough when Tommy was out of
sight in the shed, failed to respond at this
determined test. He felt that his veins
were bursting from the violence with
which he struggled, yet he lifted himself
scarce an inch from his chair.
Then something gave. The darkness
wrapped him again. He sensed dimly
that the life-giving pressure of Mary's
arms increased, and supported, as always,
by their beloved band, he was led away to
his couch— all unrealizing that the worst
of his battle was won*
He woke in the morning to the keen
reveille of Tommy's pipe, and the axe,
stroke on stroke, as upon that first un-
forgotten afternoon, and a fierce hatred
surged up within him for the persistent,
Satan -taught tune that called him back,
and ever back, to impotence and pain.
He turned his face to the wall, and
waited in bitterness for the mists to gather
and blot out his suffering. But a curious
sensation of inner warmth permeated the
limbs that had been so dead, and he
stretched insensibly to its inspiring glow.
The long fingers of the late September
sun caressed his pillow, and slid softly
to his averted cheek, and the boy's merry
ditty broke out unguardedly. His father
most likely still slept, and the effervescence
of youth must vent.
"Mother takes in washing,
So does Sister Ann,
Everybody works at our house,
But my Old Man!"
Jackson Gelett's temper flared. The
notes tingled through his blood like new
wine. If he could reach that- saucy young
rooster he'd teach him to crow. He lifted
back the bedclothes. The doctor had said
he would never be better; but Mary Was
not so sure. Then he shrank-^quivering —
with a quickened recollection of the night.
Slowly, by inches, palsied with dread
lest the muscles again refuse, he drew out
one knee, and then the other, from its
white nest, and the sun played over his
great thews, grown flabby from their year
of disuse. The whistle struck with the axe :
"Everybody WORKS at our house,
Everybody WORKS at our house,"
and cautiously, knotting his forehead with
the stress, he shifted one foot, and then
the other, to the floor. A sudden triumph
shot through him at its chill touch; Mary
had always dressed him in the bed.
Slowly, wrenchingly, he leaned forward,
and tried his weight on the bare feet's
shaking support.
The shrilling under his window ceased
abruptly, and a choking sob from the door
turned him swayingly about. The fatal
blackness clutched him, but he fought
it as a man fights for life.
Slowly, slowly, the fog swept back, and
his wife's bright face beamed upon him
through her tears. " 'Everybody works
at our house,' Mary woman," he muttered,
•with a sheepish, forgotten grin. "And it's
me for the old repair shops before the
month is out."
HE SILENCED THE DEVIL
IF YOU find yourself getting miserly, begin to scatter, like a wealthy farmer in New
* York State that I heard of. He was a noted miser, but he was converted. Soon after,
a poor man who had been burned out and had no provisions came to him for help. The
farmer thought he would be liberal and give the man a ham from his smoke-house. On
his way to get it, the tempter whispered to him:
"Give him the smallest one you have."
He had a struggle whether he would give a large or a small ham, but finally he took
down the largest he could find.
"You are a fool," the devil said.
"If you don't keep still," the farmer replied, "I will give him every ham I have in
the smoke-house."
—From the book "Heart Throbs"
IDreamflf
VV7HEN the weary sun
** His course has run,
And sinks to rest
Beneath the west,
I love to dream
Of things that seem
And forget the things that are.
Then the little star
That heralds the night
Is a signal light
On a tower tall
O'er a castle wall,
Where warriors bold
Stand with helms of gold,
And ladies fair
On the terrace there,
With tresses that float
On the winds from the moat,
Look out on fields
Of gleaming shields,
And smile at victory.
Then from the sea
The pale night comes
With roll of drums,
And the sun lies furled
O'er the edge of the world.
— Henry Dumont
in "A Golden Fancy.
VICKSBURG
rHE siege of Vicksburg was one of the most spectacular engagements of modern
warfare, as well as one of the most important in its decisive results. When
Vicksburg fell, the knell of the Confederacy was sounded, and the reputation
of a great general established. Moreover, the immediate effect of the news of its
downfall was the confusion of a rapidly growing anti-war party in the North, and
the strengthening of Union sentiment. When Grant, early in November, 1862,
'began his campaign against this apparently impregnable Confederate stronghold,
the situation in the North had become desperate. The elections of 1862 had re-
sulted in the fostering of sentiments inimical to the further prosecution of the war'.
Voluntary enlistments had nearly ceased. Desertions were frequent. The draft
had been resorted to in order to fill the depleted ranks of the Union army. The
Northern press was uttering thinly veiled and sneering criticisms of those in charge
of the conduct of the war. The patient Lincoln, goaded and criticized by those who
should most strongly have upheld him, with prescient wisdom called Grant, a man
he had never seen, out of the West and set him a superhuman task. In that one act
Lincoln proved the greatness of his judgment. Such things do nc$ come about by
chance — the great leader is he who most wisely chooses the instruments of his will.
Grant, having been set the task, began its accomplishment, and moved forward
irresistibly to the end, regardless of obstacles, regardless of advice, regardless of all
military precedent. During this campaign, which extended over a period of eight
long, weary, toilsome months, Grant violated all the existing traditions of warfare,
disregarded the advice of competent military experts, disobeyed the orders of his
superiors — and in the end justified amply by the results he attained the unusual
methods to which he had resorted. When Sherman pointed out the seeming folly
of his course, Grant said, "I must go forward — it is too late to go back." Up to
that time it had been regarded as an axiom in war that large bodies of troops must
operate from a base of supplies which they always covered and guarded in all for-
ward movements. When he found he must uncover his line of communication in
moving against Jackson, he cut himself of entirely from his base of supplies and
moved his whole force eastward, foraging upon the country as he advanced. When
he received orders from General Halleck to return to Grand Gulf and co-operate
from there with General Banks against Port Hudson, and then return with their
combined forces to besiege Vicksburg, he told the officer who brought it that the
order came too late, and stopped all discussions of the question by mounting his
horse and riding away. When he found that General McClernand had issued a
fulsome, congratulatory order to his own troops (the ijth corp} which did injustice
to the other troops engaged in the campaign, Grant summarily relieved him of his
command and ordered him back to Springfield. The news of the fall of Vicksburg
lifted a great load of anxiety from the minds of Lincoln, his cabinet, and the loyal
people of the North. A less steadfast man than Grant, one less sure of himself and
his purpose, would inevitably have yielded to the immense pressure brought to bear
upon him by both friends and foes, and the apparently insuperable difficulties to
be overcome, and have either abandoned the campaign or bungled it. The grass-
grown mounds that mark the trenches of Vicksburg remain an enduring monument
to his fame. The following pages give an account of the visit of the National
Editorial Association to the battlefields of Vicksburg.
Onth.
ICKJSBURG
ATTLE FIELD
EDITOR.
GHE reception of the National
Editorial Association in the his-
toric old city of Vicksburg will
never be forgotten. The Na-
tional Park was the especial attraction
for the editors, who represented every
state in the Union. National memorials
in the park do not commemorate the de-
feat or victory of either army, but rather
the valor of all soldiers who fought in
that great siege. The trenches may still
be seen that marked the terrible advance
of Grant's legions in furious charge, their
repulse and the merciless ring of fire which
day by day narrowed its circle and forced
surrender. Under the leadership of Cap-
tain J. F. Merry and Captain Rigby,
chairman of the Park Commission, the
great battle picture was presented to us.
The trenches of both Confederate and
Union armies are well preserved, just as
they were when the armies faced each
other for four months in that memorable
siege, which began in March and was not
closed until July 4, 1863. General Grant
conducted the siege and founded his fame
as a great commander on its success.
This is the only battleground in the world
which remains exactly as it was when the
combatants left it, and each maneuver
may now be followed.
The grass-covered mounds of the old
trenches, lying parallel on the crest of
the hills, suggested that underneath them
was buried forever the enmity between
the North and South. Looking at the
trenches and approaches by which the
fire of musketry and artillery and the
work of the military miner were gradually
brought close to the Confederate defences,
the deafening roar of battle seemed to
sound in our ears:
"A clash of arms, and death, a hush
Of horrors of which death is least."
* * *
The siege of Vicksburg and its strategic
results may be said to have decided the
fate of the Confederacy, for General Pem-
berton's surrender on July 4, 1863, not
only necessitated the immediate surrender
of Port Hudson, but the eventual loss of
those steady supplies of men and material
from Missouri, Arkansas and Texas which
had hitherto made Trans-Mississippi
Secessia an invaluable resource of the
Confederacy.
It had also demonstrated the indomit-
able courage and military genius of Grant,
who, in defiance of military precedent, had
boldly flung his army between the de-
fences of Vicksburg and Port Hudson,
and the Confederate armies of the South-
west, and exposing his forces to both flank
and rear attack, marched rapidly upon
Jackson, defeating the Confederates at
several minor points and near Jackson;
then, turning westward, defeated Pember-
ton in the field, forced the passage of the
Big Black River and shut in an army of
at least thirty thousand men.
The siege which followed was prefaced
by several assaults on the works, which
were made with headlong courage and re-
pulsed with steadfast bravery. It was
found to be impossible to break the
Southern lines, and the herculean task of
(187)
188
ON THE VICKSBURG BATTLEFIELD
enclosing the. defences with impregnable
siege-works and irresistible batteries of
siege guns was accomplished ; all the more
readily, that sorties, or attempts to destroy
important positions, were not a salient
feature of General Pemberton's defence.
The Federal lines of investment aggregated
ten miles in length, mounting about 220
guns of various calibers and description.
The Confederate line of defence, eight
miles long, mounted about 130 guns (ex-
clusive of thirty-eight on the river line)
and was defended by about 30,000 officers
and men, present for duty at the be-
ginning of the investment. After a gallant
defence of forty-seven days, 29,491 officers
and men were surrendered with the city.
Reported casualties during the invest-
ment, May 18 to July 4: Union — killed,
766; wounded, 3,793; missing, 276; total,
4,835; with 107 officers killed or mortally
wounded. Confederate, river batteries not
included, killed, 873; wounded, 2,141;
missing, 158; total, 3,172; of the 29,491
officers and men surrendered, 5,496 were
in hospitals.
Twenty-six heavy and light-draught
gunboats took part in the Union invest-
ment under Rear-Admiral David Porter
and General Alfred W. Ellett of the Missis-
sippi Marine Brigade; eight gunboats and
nine transports ran the gauntlet of the
batteries at the beginning of the move-
ment; two transports were sunk, but
divisions were ferried over the Mississippi
by those that escaped injury. The courage,
endurance and resourcefulness displayed
by^ both forces have never been exceeded
in ancient or modern times.
It was thus especially fitting that the
National Government with the several
states and commands whose valiant
soldiery had consecrated with their life-
blood the broken plateau on which Grant
and Pemberton had thrown "the wild,
grim dice of the iron game" should
join in beautifying and preserying for
all time the arena in which the River
City had striven against fate to hold back
the lower Mississippi from the war-fleets
and armies of the Northmen. Sacred
ground it is still to many loving and sor-
rowing hearts; and thousands more have
thrilled with anguish at the mention of
"Vicksburg," to whom death has brought
surcease of sorrow forevermore. No un-
worthy hatreds are now left to alienate
true and gallant souls, and only a loyal
rivalry in illustrating and immortalizing
the gallant soldiery who died and suffered
here remains of the fiery and fatal enmities
of the Great Siege. Splendid and fitting
it is that at the beginning of the Twentieth
Century public and private munificence
should combine to enrich "with storied
urn and animated bust," monument and
statue, obelisk and portico, the Vicksburg
Military Park.
To me the scene recalled especially
sacred memories, for here my own father,
then a soldier of the 21st Iowa Infantry,
had taken part in the siege. Here was
the site of the old encampment; there the
spring to which by turns each man at the
risk of life and limb carried the canteens
of his mess, as David's mighty men went
to bring water from the outposts of the
Philistine. Here he had taken part in
that merciless rifle-fire in the trenches,
or stood sentinel at night to "guard 'gainst
southron guile or force," and watch the
huge shells of the mortar boats ascending
in fiery curves over the devoted city and
seemingly hovering for a moment, like
fiery dragons of old, as if to choose their
victims. Here, in the ravine before the
Railroad Redoubt, he had joined with
his comrades in that luckless assault of
May 22, only to fall wounded in the head
and senseless, to be overwhelmed by a mass
of fallen comrades, so great as to leave him
crippled and helpless for weeks after,
Can you wonder that the Vicksburg
Military Park was to me an inspiration
and a delight, or that that dear old father,
once the boy-soldier from Iowa, now
passed on to join the Greater- Grand Army
of the Republic, left his sons a nobler
legacy than gold or titles — the memory
of a soldier, true and tried, of the Great
Republic?
Here, too, was stationed the famous
Lunette, held by Texan and Alabama
infantry and Missourian and Arkansan
light horse against the desperate and long-
continued assaults of May 22, when not
only infantry brigades and regiments
charged and volleyed on the works, but the
artillerists of the renowned Chicago Mer-
cantile Battery actually manned their
ON THE VICKSBURG BATTLEFIELD
189
prolonges and drew one of their guns to
a position within thirty yards of the enemy's
work, where it was served until the assault
failed and then was safely brought
off after dark. The Adjutant-General
of Illinois has thus favorably commented
on the services of this gallant artillery
command.
"The Mercantile Battery of Chicago
has been credited with heroic work at
the siege of Vicksburg. This battery
ness and solicitude for the welfare of his
men in camp or in the field.
"On the 15th of April, they led out
with the Thirteenth Army Corps, under
the command of General John A. McCler-
nand, and took part in the glorious campaign
which finally culminated in the capture
of Vicksburg. Crossing the Mississippi
at Bruinsburg on the night of the 30th
of April, they were in time to take part
in the battle of Magnolia Hills, on May
MERCANTILE BATTERY GOING INTO ACTION AT MAGNOLIA HILLS, MAY 1, 1863
was recruited under the auspices of the
Mercantile Association of Chicago. It
was mustered into the United States
service on the 29th day of August, 1862,
and mustered out July 10, 1865.
"All of the survivors of the famous
battery have gained positions of trust,
honor and respect among their fellow-men
in the business world of today.
"Captain Patrick H. White of the Bat-
tery lately celebrated his seventy-seventh
birthday. He has always been held in
the highest esteem by the men of the
Mercantile Battery for his bravery, kind-
1st, and were actively engaged, and per-
formed splendid service during the entire
day.
"Continuing its march toward Vicks-
burg, it again encountered the enemy
on the 16th of May," at Champion Hills,
where it had a fearful artillery duel with
an eight-gun battery belonging to the
First Regiment of Mississippi Light Ar-
tillery. The* fight occurred at the short
range of three hundred yards.
"General Tilghman was killed by a
well-directed shot from No. 2 gun of this
Battery. The fighting was severe and the
MARK MuCMki
MARK CAMPS
MARK HOSPITALS
MARK EARTHWORKS
MARK BATTERIES.
•— BuckJand's, Matthles'. Woods'. Hairs-Chambf rs-,
LegBett»-Force>8,Boomer8>-Putnara-s-Mauhles',Lind8.,y8
and Lee'B-Kelgwln'a Brigades went from Investment ine
'erlor line ft-onttog Big Black River; Mower's
Brigade went to west side of MississioDl River.
MAP OF THE
,rvicksburg National Military Park
COMPILED FROM TOPOGRAPHICAL MAP PREPARED UNDER
THE DIRECTION OF THE SECRETARY OF WAR
VICKSBURG NATIONAL PARK COMMISSION.
ON THE VICKSBURG BATTLEFIELD
191
Battery lost heavily. The following day
more laurels were won at the battle of
Black River Bridge. Participating in
the pursuit of the retreating foe, they
came within sight of the heights of Vicks- .
burg on the afternoon of the 18th of May.
"On the 22nd of May, an assault was
ordered along the whole line, and one
section of the Battery literally charged
a bastion, pulling their -guns by hand up
to within twenty feet of the works. Here
they remained for eight long hours in the
face of a fearfully heavy fire.
Rigby of Iowa and Captain J. G. Everest,
commissioners. Captain Lewis Guion of
Louisiana was appointed to succeed General
Lee. The park includes 1,288 acres of
fighting ground of the famous siege and
defence of Vicksburg, lasting from May
18 to July 4. The operations and five
battles preceding the siege of Vicksburg
are described by historical tablet inscrip-
tions.
The park picture furnishes definite
and exact boundaries, and the visitor
follows every detail of the great siege
MERCANTILE BATTERY IN ACTION IN THE REAR OF VICKSBURG, MAY 22, 1863
"Hand grenades were tossed over from
behind the works, and were as quickly
thrown back to explode among the enemy.
When night set in they ran their guns
down into the ravine below and saved
them. For this and other acts they were
especially mentioned by General McCler-
nand in his dispatches."
* * *
President McKinley signed the Act of
Congress authorizing the establishment
of the Vicksburg National Military Park
in 1899. The Secretary of War appointed
Lieutenant General Stephen D. Lee of the
Confederate Army, Captain William T.
from point to point. Every position oc-
cupied by the two opposing armies is
marked. Along the Confederate line of
defence are 150 markers. The Union
trenches and approaches are indicated by
363 markers, and a drive over the thirty
miles of road-way covering the two prin-
cipal avenues, Confederate and Union,
presents a stirring and vivid picture.
There are nearly nine hundred tablets
of all kinds in the park, besides 127 guns
mounted at the old battery sites, similar
to those used in active service at the siege.
The total appropriations made by Con-
gress are $1,175,000, and fourteen states
192
ON THE VICKSBURG BATTLEFIELD
have also made appropriations for the
twelve memorials and monuments.
Two handsome portrait bronze statues
are in place, one of Lieutenant General
Stephen D. Lee, given by his son and
friends in twenty-seven states, and one of
General I. W. Garrott, also of the Confed-
erate army, given by his sons. Five more
are assured for the park: Union, a full
length figure of Colonel William F. Vilas,
contributed by his wife and daughter, and
a full length figure of Captain Andrew
Hickenlooper, contributed by his family;
Confederate, Brigadier General Lloyd
Tilghman, equestrian, given by his sons
Sidell and Frederick B. ; Lieutenant General
John C. Pemberton, equestrian, given by
his son Frank R.; Colonel James H. Jones,
bust, given by his family and friends.
Four portrait tablets are in place;
Union — Colonel Joseph J. Woods, given
by his family; Confederate — General
Francis A. Shoup, Colonel Edward Higgins,
Colonel Robert Richardson, given by
Louisiana parish police juries. Five more
are assured: Union — Colonel James R.
Slack, given by Sculptor Adolph A. Wein-
man; General Mortimer D. Leggett, given
by Sculptor Henry H. Kitson. Confeder-
ate— General Louis Herbert, Colonel
Leon D. Marks, Colonel Allen Thomas,
given by Louisiana police parish juries.
It is anticipated that in the near future
statues of General Grant, and of Generals
Logan and Forney of the Confederate Army
will be given. In fact, there seems to be
scarcely a state in the North or South that
does not have some ofhcer whose heroism
on the battlefield of Vicksburg does not
merit due commemoration.
The Commission is now hard at work to
secure an appropriation for the construc-
tion of a memorial in Louisiana Circle
and Warrenton Road, commemorative
of the service of the Confederate Navy
during the Civil War.
The map of Vicksburg, showing the
earth works, camps and batteries is in-
teresting in connection with the study
of this great siege/ and to be jiully ap-
preciated one must walk over the very
ground itself that shook with the terrific
cannonade of the summer of J63.
* * *
In the hills within the city, known as
"the excavations," may be seen the caves
where citizens lived when the city was
being bombarded. Beautiful homes now
occupy the eminences which cannon balls
riddled during the siege. Here and therein
the park rise stately and artistic memorials,
indicating that various states have recog-
nized the bravery and devotion of their
heroic sons. Every state in the South is
represented, and every state in the North,
with the exception of three. In the
Illinois Temple, on tablets of bronze, the
names of 34,000 Illinois soldiers are en-
graved. The name of Fred Grant, son
of General U. S. Grant, was being added
to the list the day that we arrived. A
thrill of awe, a renaissance of patriotism,
filled every soul as we moved through
such scenes.
After the close of the war the channel
of the Mississippi changed, and Vicksburg
was left far from the present bed of the
river, but a dam across the Yazoo has
provided an artificial channel so that the
city may still be said to be "on the river."
MAY IT EVER BE THUS
""THE following lines may not be of use to you, but express in simple language a senti-
^ ment worth remembering, one which any citizen would do well to think of when
patriotic thoughts enter his mind, hoping that "May it be ever thus":
No North, no South, no East, no West,
But one great nation Heaven blest.
— Chas, B. Thompson, in the book "Heart Throbs."
anb Ite &utf)or
By EVELYN SCHUYLER SCHAEFFER
/^\N the Black River in Lawrence County,
^-'Arkansas, lies the estate of Clover Bend
— a plantation of five thousand acres, with
its mill, its cotton gin and its store grouped
near the river bank and, a stone's throw
away, the houses of the two proprietors;
while scattered farther afield are the little
dwellings of the tenants. The house with
which I made acquaintance on my first
visit, fifteen years ago, is no longer stand-
ing. More than a dozen years since, the
cottage owned by Mrs. Crawford was
burned, as the result of a too generous
fire built by a negro servant. As a rule,
the negro never likes to make anything
smaller than a "Christmas fire." The
cottage has been replaced by a simple,
but sufficiently spacious and altogether
comfortable modern house which, with its
dozen acres of ground, now separated from
the plantation, is the joint property of
Miss Alice French, known to the world
as Octave Thanet, and her friend, Mrs.
Crawford. Close by is the house of Colonel
Tucker, who, though now represented
by his nephew, has been for many years
the resident partner and manager of the
property.
It was however, during the winters spent
in the modest cottage that Octave Thanet
learned to know and love her Arkansas,
and it was there that much of her best
work was done. Herself a Northern woman,
born in New England, reared in the Mis-
sissippi town of Davenport on the border
of Iowa, she has become by adoption a
southerner;, and in sympathy, in compre-
hension, in ability to live the life and enter
into the heart of the people, she is at once
New Englander, Westerner and Southerner.
Which is to say that she is broadly human.
Her family, it may be said in passing,
have from colonial times to the present
day been people of distinction. As a
writer, it has been said of her by one of
her reviewers, that whatever the station
in life of her characters, she never seems
to look at them from the standpoint of a
superior, but always with the level gaze
of an equal. As she writes, so she is. In
speaking of the writer one can hardly
avoid speaking of the woman, for in this
case the writer is the ^ woman. Between
them there is no gulf fixed; Octave Thanet
is Alice French. Seldom has anyone been
so enthusiastically beloved by so great a
variety of people.
Add to her remarkable power of sym-
pathy a keen sense of humor and a talent
for society, and throw in an unusual gift
for telling a story — in whatever dialect —
and an immense popularity may be taken
for granted. In society she is surrounded
and her company is so eagerly sought that
it is difficult for her to maintain the se-
clusion necessary for her work. Hence
the value to her of a place like the Clover
Bend plantation. Not but what she enter-
tains her friends there, but the coming
and going is not incessant. There are
long weeks of quiet living. Had it not
been for Clover Bend, while her friends
might have had more of Alice French, the
world would possibly have had less of
Octave Thanet. Of late years the world
has seen her rather more than before.
Every year she makes some stay in Boston,
in New York, in Washington. At stated
intervals she takes her place among the
officers of the National Society of Colonial
Dames — as is fitting for one whose ances-
tors were among the leaders of the Col-
onies and the founders of the Republic.
One more characteristic must be men-
tioned. Miss French has a genius for
friendship. As a friend she spends herself
royally. For the rest, she is practical —
at least, as practical as one so generous
can ever be — and she is a person of sound
sense and of housewifely accomplishments.
If she hadn't been a writer she might have
been a chef. Her house at Clover Bend,
equally with her house in Davenport, is
the abode of comfort and hospitality. A
(193)
194
AN ARKANSAS NOVEL AND ITS AUTHOR
place of beauty also. In that kindly cli-
mate the wilderness has been made to
blossom as the rose, and the house is em-
bowered in creepers and shrubbery, while
seasonable flowers follow each other in
profusion. Mrs. Crawford has a canny
hand with flowers. She also has her
chicken yard. I well remember her troubles
during an unprecedented season of arctic
weather, when the little incubator-hatched
chickens came into a world ill-adapted to
their unfledged nakedness. But that was
the guest might willingly forego some of
them in view of the good company which
is his fortunate portion. Out of doors
there is the most heavenly quiet; within-
doors are cheerful fires, books and maga-
zines, a piano, and plenty of good talk.
In the pleasant weather of the autumn and
spring, drives and picnics make an agree-
able variation. In adapting herself to
the isolated life of a plantation, Miss
French has mastered various handicrafts.
She wields a successful paint-brush, she
HOME OF OCTAVE THANET IN DAVENPORT
an exception, and the poultry yard adds
its quota to cheerfulness and good cheer.
In it flourish geese, ducks and guinea fowl
as well as chickens. The most succulent
little pigs are among the products of the
region, a vegetable garden yields its com-
fortable produce, and a spacious stable
shelters horses, cows and vehicles. An
eight-mile drive meets the train from St.
Louis and the semi -weekly market hamper
supplements the abundantly filled store-
room ; and the ice-machine is not far away.
Thus life at Thanford is not devoid of the
creature comforts of civilization, although
is skill, d in carpentry, she even plumbs!
As a matter of course negroes abound
about the place, although the backbone of
the domestic establishment is supplied by a
few white servants brought from the
North. Octave Thanet began, years ago,
to make a study of the negro and she
knows him well, his virtues and his faults;
his shiftlessness, his superstitions, his lack
of moral sense; his childlike gaiety of
heart, his emotional and imaginative quali-
ties, his frequent devotion to his white
employer and the fidelity to his race
which would prevent his betraying one
AN ARKANSAS NOVEL AND ITS AUTHOR
195
of his own color to a white man — while
perhaps he would himself kill him, and
that cheerfully and without remorse.
And to those who are qualified to judge,
the author's marvelous shading of the
negro dialects is a subject for admiration.
She differentiates accurately between the
negroes of even slightly different degree,
as in her latest book, between the "ornery"
darkey and his superior wife; and shows
a fine observation when she makes the
refined colored woman drop into the ac-
cents of her race when she sings their
songs. Many of the Arkansas stories
deal with that race, and in some of them
she struck her happiest note. None of her
readers will forget "Sist' Chaney's Black
Silk," or 'The Conjured Kitchen."
Those volumes belong to her earlier
life, the time when the inevitable sor-
rows of life had not begun to cast their
shadows on a spirit which, however buoy-
ant, must retain some traces of grief.
Those were days of strenuous and enthu-
siastic toil at art for art's sake. Always
a writer to whom felicitous expression
seemed to be as spontaneous as the humor
of which it was an outcome, nevertheless
she knew what it was to struggle for the
right word, the right phrase, and to labor
for that compression so essential to the
short story, where, to use her own words,
one must be "as tidy as a sailor." To
that period too, belongs a longer tale,
"Expiation," also a story of Arkansas.
Already, in these earlier tales, Octave
Thanet had won her spurs and had achieved
the felicity, conciseness and ease for
which she had striven so hard. Later
came the "Stories of a Western Town."
To them she brought a practiced hand and
a finished style and with incomparable
fidelity, humor and sympathy depicted
the inhabitants of the small, thriving,
growing city of the Middle West; and
whether she described the prosperous
manufacturer or his plain German employe,
the unsuccessful farmer or the successful
politician, the soft-hearted old woman,
bent on mothering a whole bustling apart-
ment house, or the well-to-do gentlewoman,
living at her ease, she knew them all
and described them all from the inside.
And what an achievement that is — to
get so into another person's consciousness
that one fairly sees with his eyes and
speaks with his mouth and feels with his
heart! It takes a large heart and a dis-
cerning intelligence to do it and a skilled
pen to express it.
Other short stories followed. They
were greatly in demand by editors and,
for a person who was not dependent on
the emoluments of literature, Octave
Thanet submitted to an extraordinary
amount of hard work. Among the tales of
this period were two which for spiritual
insight as well as technical finish no work
of the author's has ever surpassed — "The
Blank Side of the Wall" and "A Cap-
tured Dream." At last came an interval
when her name appeared less often and
her readers asked anxiously whether she
had stopped writing. But the simple
explanation was that in the midst of the
countless interruptions which must come
to a woman so indispensable to her family
and her friends, she was writing a book.
Many things happened to delay it, but
at last "The Man of the Hour" appeared,
a book dialing with the labor question —
a question to which she had for years
paid much attention.
Always interested in public affairs, she
has had unusual facilities for studying
the relations of capital and labor, since
she belongs to a family who have large
manufacturing interests. This book, which
had a large sale, brought the author many
appreciative letters from manufacturers,
business men and labor leaders — from
the men, in short, who were best qualified
to judge of its merits. It was shortly fol-
lowed by "The Lion's Share," a book in
a lighter vein, a tale of adventure and
mystery, which, however, struck a more
serious note at the end. Last spring ap-
peared a third book, "By Inheritance,"
in which, as it seems to me, the author
has surpassed both of the former books.
It is an Arkansas story, full of the atmos-
phere of the region, full too of humor,
abounding in dramatic situations, thrill-
ingly interesting. In fact, people old
enough to know better have stayed out
of their beds until all hours to finish it.
But chiefly it is the most noteworthy con-
tribution to the negro question which has
been presented in fiction, or perhaps in any
form, since "Uncle Tom's Cabin." and the
196
AN ARKANSAS NOVEL AND ITS AUTHOR
only adequate portrayal of the modern
negro, more especially the educated negro.
The story opens in New' England with
a humorous and altogether charming des-
cription of a conscientious, benevolent,
LIBRARY IN OCTAVE THANET'S HOME
elderly gentlewoman, burdened with more
money than she knows how to spend.
Born an abolitionist, with a memory of the
Civil War, her interest in the colored race
is still further heightened by the fact that
her lover's life was saved by
a negro and that later, his
last request to her was that
she would do all she could
for that race. She has al-
ways done all she could and
now, finding herself unnec-
essarily rich, is contemplat-
ing the gift of a large portion
of her property to endow a
university for negroes, being
urged thereto by her latest
protege, a brilliant young
man of mixed blood whose
expenses she paid through
Harvard. On the point of
signing the deed, she is sum-
moned to Arkansas, to -the
sickbed of her nephew. Here
the real story begins.
The good lady is met in Memphis by a
relative of the people on whose plantation
her nephew is temporarily living. Mrs.
Caldwell efficiently conducts the stranger
to her journey's end and on the way be-
guiles her with innocently told stories o
the modern negro of the South, stories
which almost make the listener's hair
stand on end and frighten her respectable
and self-respecting maid within an inch
of her life. Mrs. Caldwell
begins by saying: "I wasn't
sure at all this morning that
I should be able to make the
train. My cook was arrested
,and the kitchen was rather
disorganized."
At the end of that tale
and in reply to the question
whether the Servants are all
colored, she tells the story of
the family who undertook to
employ a white lady's-maid,
to the unending confusion
of the elderly master of the
house, who was reproved so
often for his instinctive de-
sire to treat a white woman
as if she were his guest that
it "got on his nerves and
finally he said, Tor God's sake, send off
that white young lady that you won't
let me be polite to, and get a decent
Memphis nigger'!"
She told of the cook "who made such
LIVING ROOM IN OCTAVE THANET'S HOME
lovely rolls and chicken gumbo and whose
mayonnaise was a dream, but whose offi-
cial existence was cut short with painful
abruptness, by her arrest on the charge
of poisoning her last employers. She
AN ARKANSAS NOVEL AND ITS AUTHOR
197
pleaded that the poison 'be'n only a cha'm
to make 'em like her an' pay her higher
wages.' ': There was the other cook who
"sang gospel songs and nearly destroyed
the helper boy with a bread knife in a fit
of rage; the cook who supplied a small
restaurant with the overflow from Mrs.
Caldwell's kitchen, and replied reproach-
fully, when asked why such large roasts
at the butcher's appeared so small on the
table, 'Ole Miss, doesn't you know meat
allus does frizz up in the oven?'" Then
there was the boy who "forged a check
merely to show how well he could write;
the housemaid who borrowed Mrs. Cald-
well's gowns, and unluckily getting one
of them soiled, attempted to clean it with
gasolene in the kitchen, which was why
she set herself and the house afire, and
joined the church in consequence, declar-
ing, 'No mo' burnin's in dis world or de
next for me!' ': Alternating with these
were the good ones, "the heroine who
rushed into the fiery furnace of a gasolene
explosion and saved her absent mistress'
diamonds, the faithful old mammies, the
wonderful butlers and coachmen in the
family traditions." To the comment that
they seemed "to contradict," the lady
returned a cheerful "No, ma'am, I reckon
not. They are all children together, good
and bad." Added to this was the brief
comment on the "spectre of the South";
"If a girl is at school late her father and
half a dozen neighbors are out with guns."
Mrs. Caldwell also expounds the South-
ern view of the colored parson. "Niggro
ministers are — different. . . They have to
have magnetism, and a certain gift for
leadership and be big politicians in a way,
too; and they are likely to have strong
emotions; and they seem to think re-
pentance is more important than not
sinning. Anyway, their notions of sin
are not ours. It's a venial sin to lift
chickens; but it's deadly for a church
member to dance; they usually don't
swear either, but the other commandments
have to take their chance."
The scenery about the plantation is
described con amore. It is the scenery
of the author's own Clover Bend. At
Christmas time "snow fell, powdering the
brown fields and green roadsides. The
privet and honey-suckle, which had given
such a relief of verdure to the eye hereto-
fore, shriveled and blackened. . . After
the 'freeze-up' came mild, sunny days."
. . . "These forests are wonderful,"
writes the New Englander to her friend in
Massachusetts. "Giant cypress and gum-
trees and oaks of more varieties than I
ever knew existed, splendid in dim aisles
of woodland, with arches of limbs which
may have waved over the mound-builders,
whose sepulchres are everywhere in this
country. . . . There is a little winding,
homely river, fringed all its way by trees
and with only vistas of fields and tiny
hamlets; and over all these lands grow
the single trees which have been spared
for shade, elms as beautiful and stately
as those of East Street, willow oaks of
enormous girth and a Jaques or Diaz
sumptuousness of foliage, gum-trees and
maples and towering black walnut trees.
This winter landscape has the most sur-
prising variety; it changes in subtle,
surprising, minute ways every day. There
are new hues in the earth. The grass, one
night dull and dead, olive tinted or brown,
begins under the next day's sun to be
smeared with the tenderest and liveliest
green pigment. ... On Christmas Day
we had roses from our own bushes on the
table."
And again in the spring: "The flowering
trees glowed delicately, the maple with its
flame-like, tongue-shaped bloom, the per-
simmon splendid in vermilion, crab-apple
trees with clusters of rose, hickory trees
and oaks tipped in red and pink velvet,
wild plums in the forest, apple trees in the
orchard. . . . The beauty of the season
was not silent, but filled with song. Every-
where the birds rejoiced. Not only were
the forest paths thrilled with melody, the
garden held myriads of singing tenants.
Orioles plaited their filmy nests on the
high elm boughs. The buoyant recita-
tive of the cat-bird rippled from syringa
bushes, and the flutes of the thrushes vi-
brated in the low shrubs; wrens, meadow-
larks and phoebes were caroling all the
day, and when night fell softly the mocking
bird lifted his plaintive strain, and the
cardinal chanted almost with antiphonal
effect. In the rose-trees and vines of the
veranda dwelt a multitude of cheery,
friendly little junkoes."
198
AN ARKANSAS NOVEL AND ITS AUTHOR
There are many dramatis personae, from
fine old General Montgomery and his
granddaughter — a girl scarcely emerged
from childhood, a true daughter of the
plantation, with her quick wit and deft
DINING ROOM IN OCTAVE THANET'S HOME
fingers, ready for all emergencies, a good
comrade, a loving spirit, and withal a
gentlewoman born and bred — down to
the impish "hillbilly," Piny Boneset. A
throng of negroes fills the scene — Lucille,
who made sweeping under the
bed "the subjec' of prayer"
and reeked with her mistress'
toilet-water; Lucy May,
"leading a gay life," and
running away from the plan-
tation when Tobias, her hus-
band, tried to cut her throat,
"which she said she wouldn't
take from any man"; Tobias
himself, the mildest of little
men when not a jealous hus-
band; Lafe Meadowes,
preacher and murderer; and
against this background, Lily
Pearl, the real heroine of the
tale. Lily Pearl was a very
beautiful, young , light-colored
woman. She had been mar-
ried to a brute and ran away
from him to Memphis, where he found
and nearly killed her. The husband was
sent to the penitentiary, and Lily Pearl
got a divorce. She said "it cost her forty
dollars, but she didn't grudge it." Then
she had a rather varied career, shunning
the shackles of wedlock. In the course
of this career she was left with a little girl,
the child of a French chef. The man
would have married her, but she said it
would never do for him and,
without telling him of the
prospective child, sent him
back to France, to his
"main wife!" After that, she
pursued her blithe course,
until, perhaps for the child's
sake, she resolved to lead a
reformed life. She was a
marvelous cook, having
learned much from the de-
parted chef, and was the
most sweet-tempered, joyous
creature imaginable, with no
idea of remorse and in love
with living. When the story
opens she was on her way
to a position in the household
of Miss Danforth's nephew.
"I must say," says the
sprightly Mrs. Caldwell, "you all are in
luck to have such a respectable woman and
such an adorable cook combined."
• "You call her respectable?" Agatha
could not restrain the ejaculation.
GUEST ROOM IN OCTAVE THANET'S HOME
"Of course she's respectable," declared
Mrs. Caldwell, opening her fine eyes.
"She's perfectly trustworthy and de-
pendable and honest. Lily Pearl could
be trusted with diamonds and rubies; and
AN ARKANSAS NOVEL AND ITS AUTHOR
199
she could even be trusted with cooked
food; and she is really clean, loves to be
clean, herself; why — respectable? Lily
Pearl is a lady, a dark lady."
In a later conversation she continues
the theme, ."Now Lily Pearl, she's a child,
too," she said. "For all her squalid ex-
perience she seems innocent. She is. She
may have lost her virtue, but she kept
her innocence. She doesn't feel remorse,
because she hasn't done anything she
thinks wrong — at least, very wrong."
To me the author of the book has said :
"As to Lily Pearl, to my mind she is the
hope of the negro race. She is no fiction,
but a real and genuine type who has lived,
who does live. Her immorality is an ac-
cident. It happened to her as a broken
leg might, through ignorance, through
the importunity of chance and circum-
stance. But her loving and wide and
faithful heart, that was no accident, but
herself. And she was absolutely faithful
to 'the heavenly vision.' She followed it
to death, quite simply. That is the negro
of it."
With the arrival on the scene of the
young negro graduate of Harvard, the
tragic note is struck. Sidney Danton, as
we meet him in the North, the petted
prote^ of a benevolent woman, the make-
believe white man, with his theatrical
touch, sets our teeth on edge. Even Miss
Danforth didn't like him, though she
tried to think she did. In the north he
lived in an unreal atmosphere. Coming
to the south he finds himself face to face
with hard realities. He finds, too, that he
has only beguiled himself with the idea
of being to all intents and purposes a white
man and that the colored race is his race,
as it so strangely is wherever there is
colored blood, even though greatly diluted.
Distrusted at first by his own people,
detested by the lower class of whites,
held at arm's length by the better class,
an embarrassment to his patroness, he is in
a cruel enough position ; but the iron enters
his soul when he is forced to recognize
in himself the call of the blood — the blood
of the negro. When he is called upon to
help in the ghastly work of burning the
bones of the old Voodoo conjurer which
have been fished out of the swamp, chosen
because young Danforth considers him
to be "the only soul on the plantation with
the nerve to help in such 'a job," he finds
himself afraid — with the black man's fear.
"It's a reflex action, the horror over his
crimes," philosophizes the white man,
"this queer notion that anybody who
dares touch his loathsome old bones will
die a sudden and bloody death. I guess
I'll risk it."
"There is no risk for you-, a black man's
curses can't hurt a white man," cries
Danton bitterly.
He summons all the white man in him
to. the dreadful task, but when it is over
and the reaction comes, he covers his face
with his hand's and sobs. To Danforth,
trying to reassure him by saying that
there is no danger, he exclaims:
"Oh, danger! Damn danger! How 'd you
like to belong to that fiend's race and have
it rubbed into you all of a sudden? How'd
you like to understand his kind? I never
believed I was a nigger. Now I know
how it feels. I never did before. And you
talk of danger!"
And again he felt the call of the blood;
felt it and yielded to it when, like all the
others of his color, he shielded a par-
ticularly brutal black murderer rather than
betray him to white men.
But his ambition dies hard, and he can-
not see why the negro race should not be
amalgamated with the white. "My am-
bition," he tells Lily Pearl, "is not for
myself, it's for my race. Every open,
lawful marriage of that sort helps to break
down the barrier. It's the quickest way
out of our bondage. Don't you see?"
"Mist' Danton," answered Lily Pearl,
"I see some things you don't, simply
because your eyes are sealed by your
dreams. That way out, the whites will
kill us, rather'n let us try! They'll turn
us all out of the country; you folks'll
bring black trouble on us, bloodshed and
misery. You will fo' sure if you go on.
And what's mo', we-all doan' really hone
ayfter white folks, we like our own folks
a heap better for staying with steady.
Being with white folks is like always walk-
ing on tiptoe; and that's no way to work,
all day."
But it was only after great suffering that
he gave it all up — gave up even his dream
of the university of which he was to be
200
AN ARKANSAS NOVEL AND ITS AUTHOR
president. "I thought," he said to old
General Montgomery, "I thought I knew
what it meant to be a nigger, out there
in Massachusetts; I felt the contempt
there under all the veneer of sympathy,
all the condescension, the patronage and
the kindness that was commanded of
their consciences, not prompted by their
hearts.
"I thought I had drained the devil's cup
of humiliation ; I had only tasted it. .Then,
I still believed in my own race, I believed
in their asserting themselves; in their
defending their right to the ballot, to
civil and social equality. . . . But I
came here and lived among my people;
I learned to know them. Every effort I
made to appeal to their reason and their
conscience was utterly futile. I did in-
fluence them, but it was through their
feelings. .That was hard; but there was
worse; I found out things about my
people that frightened me. ... I felt
the pull of the race, the drag downward;
it was — it was a nightmare! But don't
misunderstand me. I found out the other
side of my people, too. We, whom you
despise, have qualities you haughty white
people need as much as you lack them.
We can reverence, we can obey, we can
sacrifice to the last atom ; and we can love
beautiful things, goodness, spiritual holi-
ness, with an ardor and unselfishness that
is beyond you! I found out the strength
as well as the weakness of my people; but
I came to doubt if I could help them, and
I came to be sure that I could not help
them in the way that I had planned. I
was as water spilled on the ground. At
last I went to the bottom o^the pit."
One can but echo the question put by
Giles Danforth. "Was there ever," cries
Giles, "such an infernal conundrum put
to a nation, on the whole decent and
tender-hearted, as this negro question?
What to do with a race we may not ex-
terminate and we dare not assimilate?
It's like nothing but the sphinx's riddle-
answer it wrong; and she eats 'em up
alive!"
It is now nearly sixty years since Mrs.
Stowe wrote the book which roused the
world. She had a great cause to advocate,
great wrongs to redress, and a spark of
the divine fire. And the issue seemed
simple. To keep slaves, or to free them;
that was all! One was right and the other
was wrong, and expediency was of the
devil. Complications are ignored by en-
thusiasts— on the whole, fortunately. If
the advocate of a cause could see all sides
of it he would push it but half-heartedly
and we shouldn't get any forwarder.
The negro was to be freed, said the en-
thusiast, and then he was to rise in the
world just as a white man — say an Anglo-
Saxon — would rise. For the purpose of
Mrs. Stowe's book only two kinds of
negroes were necessary; the stereotyped,
rollicking darkey of the stage, and the
saintly martyr — a white man with the
accident of a black skin. For that matter,
the educated negro didn't exist. But
she, in common with other Northerners,
failed to grasp the fact that the two races
are absolutely diverse. And now comes
the man of science and tells us that the
various races of black men in this country
differ as much from each other as any of
them do from the white man— an added
complication.
Some persons have been heard to find
fault with Octave Thanet because she has
not solved the problem out of hand. To
such critics she would, I think, reply that
neither she nor anyone else can at present
solve it. The solution is on the knees of
the gods. But the author does believe in
segregation whenever the negro is not will-
ing to accept absolute social separation.
She points out the awakening now
visible in the South on the question of
race purity. North and South are now
as one in demanding that our race be kept
pure, and illicit connections between the
races are being frowned on as never be-
fore, and laws punishing them are being
very seriously considered. The man of
mixed blood is the true martyr of our
time and the solution of his problem should
be, I think, reabsorption into the darker
race; not a difficult matter, for, as Octave
Thanet says: "There's a queer sort of
persistence in the African blood. It throws
back, as the gardeners say."
"By Inheritance" deals with a question
no less vital than that with which "Uncle
Tom's Cabin" stirred the world; but so
much less simple, so much less dramatic.
You cannot make a war-cry of a problem!
as a
IW
tcan^or
by Jennie Harris Oliver
Illustration by WH Upham
O
ESIRE ERWINE pressed her
face against the rain-wet window
and strained her eyes anxiously
through the ranks of flabby
"jimsups" toward the "cat-a-cornering"
railroad. It was time "Goo-Eye" was
slouching his dingy way to the cow-lot,
but no sign of a "nigger" was to be seen
in all the eerie, gray-misted twilight.
There was finally a shape, lagging and
shadowy, creeping furtively along in
the "cut";— not "Goo-Eye," but a tramp.
Desire was .sure it was a tramp — her
flesh always grew cold at sight of one.
She sighed as she set the baby down and
silenced his whimper with a battered toy
rabbit. Carefully closing the stove, she
tied on her fascinator and ran out with a
great clattering of tin buckets; wading
ankle-deep in the mire of the barnyard,
feeding and milking; fussing with the
wobbly calf that bunted her breathless
while refusing to drink.
It was pitch dark before she finally
shut out the steady downpour and gave
her attention to the dead fires and the
grimy, insulted youngster. "Goo-Eye"
had not turned up.
Months ago, when Jerry Erwine had
directed his covetous attention toward
the famous apple-lands of the Snake River
Valley, he had sworn "Goo-Eye" by all the
"haunts" that ever whitened an African's
rolling eye, to chore for "Miss Desire."
Sometimes the darki'e's vow was indif-
ferently fulfilled, but oftener forgotten.
In the morning "Goo-Eye" would appear
with a syrup bucket and ask for "jist a
leetle clabbah, please, Miss Desiah. And
please couldn't Miss Desiah pick up
cawbs outen the hawg lot one moah day.
Esmaralda was so-oo sick!"
If Jerry had but known — though for
that matter there were many other
things that Jerry failed to anticipate;
among others that the woman he had left
to help Desire would be called home by
sickness; that Desire's driving pony would
continue his habit of gormandizing and
die from lack of proper attention; that
Desire would fail to get the cotton money
to the bank and be scared of her life on
account of it; that the fall rains would
set in so early and find two new leaks in
the sitting-room roof.
Desire arose to set a pan under
the -warning drops that threatened her
cherished piano, and another on the baby's
trundle bed, drawn near the stove; then
she hunted up Jerry's last letter, written
nearly two weeks before, and sat lone-
somely reading it. It was fragrant with
the gray-green sprig of sage-brush he had
enclosed as a sample of the weird, shallow-
rooted forest that covered their new acre-
age—as easy to be lost in, he explained,
as a fog at sea.
Desire smiled like a little girl over the
endearments he never forgot, and looked
wise at the big-sounding phrases with
which he commended his choice of loca-
tion. "The land-owner," he advised
her, "was the man of the future." He
thought of her each night before the sitting-
room fire, with the baby up to his fascinat-
ing pranks, while over him the big, far
(201)
202
I WAS A STRANGER
stars were shining lonesomely, and the
rascally coyotes sneaked around — not that
there was the slightest danger, only he
was glad she was. out of it all.
The little woman laid aside the letter
and sat with her face hidden in her rough-
.ened hands, favoring one clumsily
wrapped digit on which there was a deep,
ragged wound. There was no pleasure
in looking about the once radiant apart-
ment, now gray with ashes, untidy with
baby garments, toys, and half-eaten
lunches. Before big Jerry and then little
Jerry had come into her life, Desire had
been a very enthusiastic teacher of music.
She never opened the piano these days.
It looked ashamed of itself and seemed
to crouch back under the overturned bust
of Mozart, piles of neglected music, and
an assortment of diminutive garments
in all stages of dilapidation and attempted
repair. The lone woman sat shivering
and listening to the wailing of winds that
fiercely drove the equinoctial deluge against
resounding doors and windows.
So many nights her excited fancy had
responded to the knocking of bowed weeds
against the house, the scratching of
agitated peach-trees, that for a time she
was unmindful of a human hand that
groped at the kitchen door; of benumbed
fingers that appealed with the boldness
of suffering. At last she -went quickly
and flung open the door, letting in a white
whirl of rain that drenched the kitchen
to its farthest corner and extinguished
the light. But in the one wavering flare
she had glimpsed a figure so frightful as
to make her blunder over the well-known
match-box, as she shrilled out the sharp
command: "Come in, and shut the
door!"
As she heard the storm shut out, she
flashed the match she clutched and she
and the wayfarer faced each other with
wide, strained eyes.
It was a hideous countenance that
Desire looked upon — twisted by a jagged
livid scar; made mare gruesome by the
fingerless hand raised uncertainly to the
fishy mouth; but illness and starvation
pleaded in the red-rimmed eyes and water
squeaked in the fragments of leather
that clung to the man's feet.
"Sit down, do," pleaded Desire, motion-
ing to a chair by the stove. "You must be
half dead."
"I be," said the man hoarsely. "Reckon
I skeered yuh some."
"Yes, you did," answered Desire soberly,
her flesh arising in protest as she was
forced to step close to the tramp in open-
ing the stove door. "But you couldn't
stay out in a storm like this."
The man coughed hoarsely. "I hev,
many of 'em; but I reckon a feller pays
fer. hit sooner er later."
Desire made some strong coffee and
warmed 'over her almost untouched supper,
finally pushing the table forward so the
man would not have to move. He was
thus hemmed into a corner and she
breathed more freely. She nervously
poured the coffee and quickly turned into
the sitting-room where a wide window
faced the railroad cut. She had heard
the muffled roar of the "nine o'clock."
Flashingly the storm-swept coaches
rocked by with the nightly elusion of
Jerry waving in the flare from the open
fire-box. The woman's heart leaped
madly as it nightly did. She knew she
made a warm, clear picture in the red glow
of the piano lamp, and it did seem so much
like Jerry signaling ; more so as he had not
followed his daily custom of writing, and
to the anxious days was added heart-
breaking suspense.
With something of a panic she suddenly
recalled the hideous tramp in the kitchen
and shrinkingly forced herself toward the
door. The creature had drunk his coffee
and poured himself another cup, as was
shown by the dark splash on the white
cloth, but the food was untouched. Fur-
tively he was peering toward the doorway.
"I'll be cussed," he muttered, as Desire's
pallid face finally appeared, "ef I stay
and see a woman look that a way. Where's
yuh 're man?" he demanded with repulsive
huskiness.
Desire stared dumbly — unable to speak,
while the tramp's small eyes glowed un-
certainly in the twisted mask of his face.
She wanted to assert boldly that Jerry
was in the next room reading, but she had
never deliberately told a lie, and the words
somehow stuck in her throat. Suddenly
the man shuffled to his feet and struggled
out from behind the table, blinking under
I WAS A STRANGER
203
the woman's miserable gaze that re-
sembled a desperate kitten held at bay
by an ugly, threatening wolf.
Such a coward as she was! But Jerry
didn't know — she thought of that with
pride, even in the crisis now approaching,
as the burglar — she was sure of it —
writhed out of his corner. To reach the
room she was guarding, he must pass the
outer door, and there he paused, looking
at her oddly.
"Yuh're man's away?" he persisted,
less loathsomely.
"Yes," admitted Desire, with stiff lips.
"What he's doin', / done," he went on
meditatively. "I lef ' my fambly and wint
down in the cattle country to make a
stake. I wasn't scarred then, and had all
my fingers. Bimeby I got homesick and
struck back."
He paused thoughtfully. The woman's
brown eyes were still round and desperate ;
crimson spots burning high on her cheeks.
It was evident that she was not following
the tramp's story — that she was paralyzed
with horrid fear.
"I didn't find my fambly," went on
the creature dully. "I hain't never found
'em. They was swep' away in the flood
that riz the old Arkansaw 'tel she war a
hongry demon. The boy — ' the man's
face twisted grotesquely, "that war the
hardest, he follered and follered, yelpin'
and sobbin' tell I had tuh whup him back.
Lord — ' he clenched . his skinny hands
in an effort to control the misery that was
tearing him, "an' yuh was af eared — o' me!"
With a supreme effort the wayfarer
tore the door open and was gone. Franti-
cally Desire ran and heaped things against
the door — more and more heavy things;
then, ashamed of her inhumanity, dragged
them all away. Dizzily she crept to the
trundle bed and crouched by the warm,
sturdy youngster — cuddled to his~ glowing
little body, a little soothed and comforted.
Tired in every fibre she dozed fitfully,
vaguely shaken and disturbed at last by
the warning whistle and rumble of the
belated freight. Again she was wide
awake — shivering and cowering under
the blanket; her fears for Jerry assuming
horrid proportions, her dread of the
storm-swept homeless creature sickening
her with cowardly dread. The crawling
night swarmed with danger as she stared
wide-eyed at the shadows made by the
bulking furniture and wished with all her
heart that Jerry had never heard of the
Apple Lands. It was the first time she
had been molested by a tramp, although
many had slunk along furtively in the
red "cut." Jerry had always gone out
of his way to stuff them, and she had cheer-
fully sacrificed the last cookie in the jar,
because he so enjoyed feeding things;
but that was not sheltering one in her lone
little house with the cotton money and
the baby; it was not knowing that a pur-
poseless, possibly vicious bit of human
drift-wood skulked about and might return
at any minute. Might return? It was al-
ready come back. It was stumbling upon
the front porch— it was fumbling at the door !
Desire crouched panting close to the
baby. The thing was beating upon the
door and emitting hoarse cries like an
animal in distress. The door was securely
locked, but Desire leaned upon one elbow
and cried with fierceness : "Go away — oh,
what do you want?"
"It's yuh 're man," the tramp shouted
hoarsely. "He's here — I drug him home!"
Like a whirlwind the woman flew at
the door, wrenching back the key and slam-
ming it wide. Before her stood the man
she had sheltered briefly from the storm,
and at his sodden feet, lumped on the
heavy mackintosh that had served in
dragging the inert body, was Jerry, un-
conscious, his face splashed and bloody.
The woman's plucky spirit arose. She
laid hold of one end of the stretcher and
helped to bring the body in.
"Found him on the track with his foot
caught in the trussel," mumbled the tramp
with embarrassment as he fumbled at the
high -laced boot on the wrenched and swollen
ankle, causing trie injured man to stir and
groan. " Jist got him off as the freight whiz-
zed by. Lor', we was lucky — we was!"
"Well," said Desire, pausing long enough
in her ministrations to lay a thankful kiss
upon her husband's pallid face, "I guess,
you'll have to cut his boot off; but hurry
while I heat some water; then you must
eat your supper and I'll find you a place
to sleep. Jerry will need you on the farm—
and so — ' she added with a friendly,
apologetic smile, "will I."
By HENRY YOUNG OSTRANDER
OH, grant me, Lord, these precious things I ask,
Thy strength and grace for Art's eternal task;
Some vital Joy above the drudge of day,
Through happy hours God made just for Play;
Some noble Toil from greed and envy free,
That I may prove by Work my worth to Thee;
One great Soul-love to hold and honor here,
That Heaven may save for me some Self more dear;
Some sacred rapture, sanctified and sane,
In ravishing passion's ecstasy and pain.
Light Thou my path with Art's bright Inner Gleam,
Craft's Consecration and Creative Dream;
Help me reveal in beatific way
Some prisoned Beauty hid in human clay;
Weave fadeless Splendors in Life's daily loom,
Fast colors that shall last past Time and tomb;
Help me to build in Love's Elysian lands
Celestial mansions never made wit* hands;
Help me betray in lilt of lay and line
Some sweet suggestions of a Strain sublime;
Help not alone my Thought with Tune to join,
But make my life the higher, grander Poem!
Keep me, I pray, forever brave and true— •
Make the world seem better for my passing through;
Give me to feel from every sin and wrong^
In Thy Eternal Weal, somehow the Good is born;
Faith's sight to see above the darkening cloud,
A heavenly halo fringing Sorrow's shroud —
Telling beyond the gloom of gathering Night,
"At evening time" His Morrow promised bright;
Make me to see in each refulgent dawn
The Glory-Light of Resurrection Morn —
That Vision seen by eyes which "fell asleep"
When Heaven's Day broke bright across the Deep!
Teach me God's mightier Music of the Heart,
And write my Love's crescendo in some Hallelujah part;
Though I may learn Life's Lessons from its harm,
My voice will lift in Jubilate Psalm;
And when they need my Singing over There,
Close Thou my lips with some sweet Evening Prayer;
Then let my Soul when Life's short day is gone.
At last be carried Home on Angels' Song:
On full Hosanna Anthems it will rise
To join Immortal Choirs in the skies —
On the tide of great Te Deums I'll ascend,
With the swell and crash of Paeans let me blend!
Jftnrt Stir to tije Snjurelr
By H.H. HARTUNG, M.D.
BOSTON, MASS.
Major Surgeon, Medical Department, Coast Artillery Corps, M.V. M.; Fellow of the Massachusetts Medical
Society, American Medical Association, Association of Military Surgeons of the United States,
Instructor in First Aid to the Injured to the Boston Police Department, Metro-
politan Park Police and the Fall River Police Department
PART III
HRACTURES or broken bones.
The simplest definition of a
fracture is a broken bone. Frac-
tures may be divided into two
classes, simple and compound. These
again are divided into numerous classes,
according to the location, shape and num-
ber of fractures. They are caused by blows
and falls of various kinds. They may be
transverse, longitudinal, oblique, splin-
tered, comminuted or impacted, V-shaped,
T-shaped and many others. A green-stick
fracture occurs in young children, while
the bones are soft, where a bone is only
partially broken or bent. A compound
fracture differs from a simple fracture,
in that the bone is not only broken, but
one of the ends or fragments of bone is
driven through the muscles and skin,
so that the bone is exposed to or communi-
cates with the air. A compound fracture
therefore is much more serious than a
simple fracture, on account of the danger
of infection and blood-poisoning.
First aid treatment of fractures. In the
first place always send for a surgeon at
once, or get the injured party
to a Jhospital. Make the pa-
tient as comfortable as possible
by supporting the broken part
by pillows. Do not under any
circumstances move the broken
bone any more than is possible,
and do not attempt it! an
amateurish way to s$t it. This
should be done only by a com-
petent surgeon. By manipulat-
ing a broken bone an unskilled
person might cause one end
to be driven through the skin
and as a result cause a simple
fracture to be converted into a
compound fracture.
Among the bones most frequently
broken are those of the skull, lower-jaw,
collar-bone, the two bones of the fore-arm
near the wrist, ribs, upper leg bone or
thigh and th'e two bones in the lower leg
just above the ankle.
Fractures of the skull are usually serious
and frequently fatal, particularly those
at the base of the brain, and require the
immediate attention of a skilful surgeon.
External symptoms of fractures of the
skull are not always present. The person
is usually profoundly unconscious, and
there may be bleeding from the ears, nose
and mouth or if very bad, the brain fluid
and some of the brain may be escaping
from the opening in the skull. There is
practically no first aid treatment for such
cases. Get the patient to a hospital as
quickly as possible and do not under any
circumstances force brandy or whiskey
down the patient's throat. This is liable
to do more harm than good. -Fracture
of the lower jaw is caused most frequently
by hard blows on the jaw, or falling and
striking on the jaw. It is frequently
broken where the teeth are
inserted and on account of its
close connection with the
mouth is often compound.
First aid treatment consists in
closing the mouth, so as to
bring the lower jaw firmly
against the upper jaw and then
passing a broad handkerchief
around the lower jaw and the
top of the head and tying se-
curely, so as to hold the lower
jaw in place, and then get the
person to a hospital or surgeon.
Fractures of the collar bone,
upper arm bone and the bones
of the fore-arm. The collar
(205)
206
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
bones and the bones of the forearm, just
above the wrist, are those most frequently
broken. The simplest first aid treatment
of any of these fractures consists in bend-
ing the fore-arm at a right angle, with the
thumb pointing upwards toward the chin
and then applying a first aid triangular
bandage or a large handkerchief as shown
in illustration number 6.
Fractures of the leg may occur in any
portion, most frequently however near the
hip joint and just above the ankle joint.
Fractures of the leg near
the hip- joint frequently oc-
cur in elderly people, as a
result of the slightest jars,
such as slipping over the
threshold of a door. This is
on account of the fact that
in elderly people the bones
lose their elasticity, become
quite brittle and for that
reason break quite easily.
Fractures of the leg are more
serious in a way than
fractures of the arm,
because it incapaci-
tates one from get-
ting about for a long
time, and there is
generally some shortening of the leg, which
may remain permanently and render the
person a cripple for life. The first aid
treatment of a broken leg requires that the
leg shoulH be immobilized, that is, fixed
securely, so that it cannot be moved, par-
ticularly if the person has to be carried
quite a distance. This is done by using
improvised splints, such
as pillows, barrel staves,
broom handles, rifles,
umbrellas, canes and in
fact anything that is
handy. In fractures of
the lower leg, a pillow
applied firmly to the leg
acts as a very satisfac-
tory and comfortable
dressing, or barrel staves,
one applied to each side
of the leg, act very well
for emergency
splints (see illustra-
tions 7 and 8) .
When the thigh or
upper leg bone is broken, a broom handle
may be used for emergency as a temporary
splint. This should be tied securely to the
broken leg first, and then the broken leg
and the splint should be bandaged to the
sound leg, so that the broken leg will be
held in place securely (see illustration 9) .
The First Aid treatment of compound
fractures consists only in applying a ster-
ilized First Aid dressing over the wound
in the skin, in order to keep out dirt and
germs and then get the person to a hospi-
tal at once, as such a fracture requires the
most careful attention in order to prevent
infection and blood-poisoning and possibly
the loss of the limb by amputation.
Dislocations. A dislocation is an in-
jury to a joint, where one of the bones
forming the joint is forcibly displaced
from its normal position. Dislocations
are caused the same way as fractures,
by falls and blows. It is really a very
bad sprain, where, as a result of a sudden
wrench or twist, the ligaments about the
joint are torn and ruptured, which allows
the bone to slip out of place. The shoulder
and hip joints are those most frequently
dislocated, the shoulder more often than
the hip on account of the fact that the
shoulder joint is more shallow than the
hip joint.
The First Aid treatment of dislocations
of all kinds consists in leaving them very
much alone. Do not use any force or
attempt to reduce the dislocation, for an
inexperienced person could do a great deal
of harm and an ordinary simple disloca-
tion might be converted into a very much
more complicated one or the bone might
be driven through the skin and then a
compound dislocation would result. Make
the person as comfortable as possible and
get him to a hospital or surgeon as quickly
as possible, as a dislocation should only
be reduced by a competent surgeon, and
many times requires ether.
Sprains. . A sprain is a wrenching or
twisting of a joint, associated with con-
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
207
siderable stretching and sometimes rup-
ture of the ligaments about the joint.
Sprains occur most frequently at the wrist,
knee and ankle joints. Oftentimes the
bones near the joints may at the same time
be broken. The symptoms of sprain are
swelling, black and blue marks, inability
to use the joint and most always excruciat-
ing pain upon pressure and motion. The
First Aid treatment of sprains consists
in keeping the parts as quiet as possible.
If the knee or ankle is sprained, the. leg
should be placed on a chair and kept up,
and if the wrist is the point of injury the
arm should be carried in a sling. For the
severe pain, hot applications, such as
towels wrung out in as hot water as can
be comfortably borne, sometimes gives
relief; then again sometimes the hot ap-
plications seem to make the pain worse,
and then we can try" cold applications,
by wringing out towels in ice water or by
applying ice bags directly to the sprain.
In all cases of severe sprains, where there
is the possibility that there may be a dis-
location or broken bone associated with it,
the advice of a surgeon should be sought.
Electric shock and electric burns. These
accidents occur as a result of coming in
contact with a live electric wire, such as
electric light wires or trolley wires, or
some electrical machinery. The parts
of the body that have come in contact
with the live wire are burned and black-
ened. The treatment of such burns is the
same as for any ordinary burn. Persons
who have been badly shocked by elec-
tricity are usually unconscious, pulse weak
and irregular, breathing superficial and
sometimes totally suspended. In fact
the person is apparently dead. The
amount of electricity sufficient to kill
varies; some people are killed by only
250 volts, whereas others have been known
to have twelve thousand volts pass through
the body and live. The First Aid treat-
ment consists in the first place of getting
the person away from the live wire. This
is always a more or less hazardous under-
taking and requires a lot of courage, for
if the person is not thoroughly insulated,
they are liable to get the same amount
of electricity and even lose their own lives,
'the minute they touch the body of the
person in contact with the live wire. The
hands should be thoroughly protected
by means of heavy rubber gloves or some
other non-conductor of electricity, such
as rubber cloth, mackintosh, or several
thicknesses of silk or cloth. The rescuing
party should be further insulated by stand-
ing on a rubber mat or dry board. Death
in such cases is due to the fact that the
high voltage of electricity paralyzes the
centers of respiration and circulation in
the brain, so that the treatment of such
cases requires stimulating the heart and
respiration. This is best done by at once
proceeding to apply artificial respiration,
and I believe that many cases of electrical
shock could - be resuscitated if artificial
respiration was carefully and persistently
applied.
Foreign bodies in the eyes. These usually
consist of cinders, sand, dust, small in-
sects, and sometimes sn^all particles of
steel or emery. First Aid treatment —
never rub the eye. If this is done the
delicate membrane of the eye may be
scratched and severe inflammation result.
Allow the tears to accumulate in the eyes.
This frequently washes out the foreign
body. Sometimes blowing the nose will
be sufficient to start the particle loose.
If the foreign body is on the lower lid,
pull lid down and have the patient roll
the eye up. In this way the foreign body
can be easily seen and readily removed
by the corner of a handkerchief, earners
hair brush or a small spud
made by wrapping a small
piece of absorbent cotton
around the end of a match
or tooth-pick (see illustra-
tion 10). If the.foreign
body is under the upper
eyelid, grasp the lid be-
tween the thumb and in-
dex finger of the left hand,
place a match, tooth -pick or lead pencil
over the middle of the upper eyelid and
turn the eyelid over. This exposes the
inside of the upper lid and the foreign body
can be easily brushed off (see illustration
11). When pieces of stee1
or emery become em-
bedded in the eye-ball,
never attempt to remove
them by a needle or
knife, as is sometimes
10
208
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
done by unskilled people. Such a proced-
ure might injure the eye badly, so that the
sight might be lost. Such cases should
always be attended to by a skilful eye-
specialist.
Foreign bodies in the ear. The articles
that most frequently get in the ears are
bugs, insects, beans, peas and buttons,
the latter of course as a result of children
pushing them in the ears. First Aid
treatment — if the foreign body is a live
insect or bug hold a light near the ear
and this will frequently attract the insect
out; or a few drops of sweet oil (warm)
may be dropped in the ear, holding the
head to the opposite side. The oil kills
the insect, which floats on top of the oil
and can be easily removed. If the foreign
body is a pea or a bean, never try to syringe
it out by water or other liquids, this will
simply cause the pea or bean to swell
up and make it almost impossible to re-
move. If the foreign body cannot be
removed by these simple methods, do not
attempt its removal by haripins or other
such instruments, but have the patient
go and see an ear-specialist at once, as
such cases if improperly treated or neg-
lected might result in the loss of hearing.
Foreign bodies in the nose are, as a rule,
small articles introduced by children,
such as peas, beans and shoe buttons.
First Aid treatment — these can usually
be easily removed by closing the opposite
nostril by pressing with a finger and then
blowing the nose hard. This will usually
force the foreign body out, or try to pro-
duce sneezing by tickling the nose with a
feather. If the foreign body is a pea or a
bean do not syringe out the nose, as this
will cause it to swell up and lodge it more
firmly.
Foreign bodies in the windpipe are, as a
rule, in adults pieces of meat, false-teeth
or food, in children, buttons, marbles,
toy whistles and coins, and frequently if
they are not removed promptly, result
in suffocation and death. First Aid treat-
ment— first of all send for the nearest
surgeon at once and notify him of the
nature of the accident, so that he can
bring along his instruments, in case it is
necessary for him to do a tracheotomy
(open the windpipe from the outside).
In the meantime, attempt to dislodge the
foreign body, if it is a piece of meat, by
passing the index finger down the throat
and sweeping it around; sometimes it is
possible to hook the end of the ringer
around the piece of meat and pull it out.
If this does not succeed, give the person
a violent slap between the shoulder blades;
this sometimes dislodges the foreign body
and it is coughed up. When foreign bodies
have been swallowed, such as pieces of
glass, pins and needles, do not give emetic
or try to make the person vomit, as this
might drive the sharp edges into the
mucous membrane. The thing to do is to
make the person eat large quantities of
bread and potatoes, in order that the
foreign body may be surrounded by a
mass of soft material and in this way
passed safely through the bowels.
( To be continued )
WHO MISSES OR WHO WINS
(Quoted by the late Senator Bayard of Delaware in an address to the
students of Virginia University)
Who misses or who wins the prize,
Go lose or conquer, as you can;
But, if you fall, or if you rise,
Be each, pray God, a gentleman.
— Wm. M. Thackeray, in the book "Heart Throbs."
THECSfTOKJ MA
y° N^M_- ^<^x
* ffOlflf 2^ r~ ' """^ *" ^^
LONG CREE
ae Carey
I RECALL distinctly tne scene
of the "hold-up." It was just
at the foot of a steep incline,
where the narrow, dusty trail
curved abruptly to avoid a shelving ledge
of gray boulders, and where a view of the
stagecoach would momentarily be lost
from nearly every direction.
The figure of the masked highwayman
suddenly standing there in front of the
lead-team — short and squat, and with
legs noticeably bowed— seemed singularly
ineffective; but there was no mistaking
the business-like and persuasive gleam of
the gun levelled straight at my head; and
when there came rumbling up from what
seemed like the deeper inner regions of
that short, squat figure the gruff command,
"Hands up./"— it occurred to me, most
overwhelmingly, that was precisely and
exactly the thing to do at that precise
and exacting moment. Accordingly, I
raised my hands — hurriedly — as high above
my head as possible. Even then, if I
remember correctly, I felt like apologizing
profusely to the short, squat gentleman
in front, because of my inability to hold
them still higher.
By this it may be held by some I
was indeed badly frightened. Be that
as it may, I was gratified by the con-
sciousness that I was by no means scared
into a state of vacuous inanity — as was
evidenced by the feeling of gratified
exuberance which gradually began steal-
ing over me as I gazed upon the bandit;
for, though I was surprised beyond measure
at finding him operating along this Placer-
ville to Grizzly F&ts stageline, I can say
that he, of all men — -either good or bad — •
was the one of all -others I wanted most
to set eyes upon; and so, while neither
of us showed the 'slightest manifestation
of cordiality, our meeting was assuredly
mutually pleasing and agreeable.
It was only the previous day that I had
been summarily summoned into the office
of the city editor on one of the big San
Francisco papers — to which stately sheet I
was slenderly connected in the capacity of
"cub" reporter — and given an assignment
which fairly bristled with possibilities.
"Howard," began the city editor, as
soon as I had reached his desk, "I'm going
to give you a chance to prove yourself.
There is an excellent opportunity for a
scoop in this thing — and some chance
of failure, as well — but this latter possi-
bility we are not anticipating. You are
to find the 'Short Man from Long Creek'
— get the story — full page with illustra-
tions, for Sunday edition — understand?"
I "understood" only too well; I under-
stood on the instant that the only reason
(209)
210
THE SHORT MAN FROM LONG CREEK
I had been given so important an assign-
ment was the disinclination of the Editor
to send one of his best men on a chase which
might be prolonged into weeks — with
only the remotest chance of success;
however, as he had said, there might be
a "scoop" in it — if I made good; and that
would mean an assured place on the paper
— more money — the respect of my su-
periors and associates — already my brain
was awhirl with the possibilities of this
first real "chance" I'd had since getting
on the paper; I was determined on the
instant to find the "story" — or get shot
up in the attempt.
"When shall I start — how shall I
go?" I queried eagerly.
The editor smiled, somewhat cynically
I thought.
"You are to start at once. You can
go by rail — or ride — or walk — or take an
airship! What we want is the story."
I lingered a moment longer by his desk,
hoping for something further in the way
of instructions or mode of procedure;
he went on busily writing. I attempted
another question, but he looked up quickly
and cut me short:
"Good-day, Howard!" he exclaimed
meaningly, and I took up my hat and
departed
* * *
Two hours later I had finished all my
preparations, packed a small grip, and
was on my way. And now, just a few
words concerning the individual I was
setting out to find.
For some months past a series of hold-
ups had taken place in a locality con-
siderably to the southward of Grizzly
Flats. From all accounts the work was
not that of an organized band, but rather
the peculiar, and at times eccentric
maneuvers of one lone bandit. His meth-
ods were strangely unaccountable; the
amount of booty he was accumulating
was comparatively trifling, whereas it
might easily have mounted into the
thousands.
His tactics were inexplicable.
After holding up a stagecoach and
having the startled passengers completely
awed and at his mercy, he would, as a
usual thing, content himself with taking
only a portion of their valuables — though
he could just as easily and at no greater
risk have secured the whole amount
of available plunder, had he so desired.
If there were any women among the
frightened passengers, he invariably
treated them with the greatest considera-
tion, endeavoring to quiet their fears,
and assuring them that neither they nor
their belongings would in any way be
molested. Even from the men he seemed
to take only such articles of jewelry or
valuables as happened to strike his par-
ticular fancy.
It was known that he came up from
somewhere out of the Long Creek region,
for which parts, apparently, he left again
after each robbery. This, together with
his singular characteristics of form and
stature, soon gained for him the title —
"The Short Man from Long Creek";
an object of dread, of fascination, of weird
and varied speculation, ending ever in
baffling perplexities; a mystery, and an
enigma.
Naturally, accounts of the venturesome
bandit were not long in spreading beyond
the scenes of his immediate operations.
He became an object of interest and
wonderment along the entire coast; hence,
as will be readily perceived, the editor's
idea for a first-hand story of an encounter
with this interesting highwayman was
both well conceived and timely.
I left the city shortly before noon, in-
tending to proceed at once to Placer-
ville, thence by stage to Grizzly Flats.
It struck me as being particularly op-
portune that while I was wholly un-
familiar with the part of the country for
which I was heading, I was acquainted
with a young ranchman named George
Evans, who was now living down close
to the Long Creek neighborhood. We
had been together at college, and played
on the same Varsity team, where his
short, heavily set-up frame had been a
stocky tower of strength in many a hard-
fought scrimmage. For the most part,
he had been a moody, taciturn sort of
fellow, making few friends and keeping
much to himself. He seemed to take a
liking to me, however, and in my company
evidenced but little of the surliness which
he assumed toward his other associates.
After leaving college, he had frequently
THE SHORT MAN FROM LONG CREEK
211
written to me, inviting me to visit him
at the ranch; in his last letter he men-
tioned that he expected to be married
soon, which, I remember, occurred to
me as being rather peculiar, for I knew
that of late he had been frequently hard
pressed for money enough to meet his
own actual cost of living.
I decided now to accept Evans' invita-
tion and visit his ranch; in fact, to make
it my headquarters. I believed that by
so doing I might, perchance, get sooner
in touch with the lay of the land, and a
line on the elusive bandit I sought — which
latter was soon to be substantiated in a
most startling manner, and to a degree
I little expected or even imagined.
On reaching Placerville, where I spent
the night, I determined to adopt a disguise.
I was fearful lest I run across some chance
acquaintance, or maybe be recognized
as a newspaper man and the object of
my quest surmised and spread broadcast,
even before I was well started on the ven-
ture. The more I thought it over, the
more I seemed to realize how much it
meant to me to succeed. I thought of
the editor — with his cynical smile; and
of a certain little girl back in Frisco whose
smile was anything but cynical — and
who never for one moment doubted that
I would find the bandit. I resolved to
bring back to each — the doubting and the
trusting — an honorable showing, on this,
my first worthy assignment.
Accordingly, when early the following
morning I boarded the stagecoach for
Grizzly Flats, I wore as a precautionary
measure a full black beard which changed
my appearance in a manner very much
to my satisfaction. This attempt at a
disguise so early in the game may pos-
sibly have been wholly unnecessary and
uncalled for — even amateurish, perhaps;
and yet, in the light of subsequent events,
I am convinced it served me a very good
turn.
It so happened I was the only passenger
for the stage that morning. Accepting
the cordial invitation of the driver, Sacra-
mento Charlie, I climbed up beside him
on the box, and away we went, bowling
swiftly out along the rugged, winding trail.
The keen, bracing morning air as we
sped along brought to me a feeling of
exhilaration I had not known for years.
With watching the ever-changing pan-
orama spread out for miles as we mounted
each ridge and eminence, and listening
to the stories of early border days as re-
lated by the loquacious — though possibly
not always strictly veracious driver — the
time seemed to pass all too quickly; still
I was glad enough to alight and stretch
my legs, however, when at length we
pulled up at a low, rambling shack where
we were to get a bite to eat and enjoy
a short noonday siesta.
By two o'clock, with a change of horses,
an additional mail-pouch, but still no other
passengers we 'were on our way again.
And then, late in the afternoon, when the
sun was fast sinking toward the horizon,
and when, as I said, we were just at the
foot of a steep incline where the trail
curved to avoid a ledge of rocks, when a
view of the coach would be momentarily
lost from nearly every direction — then
came the "hold-up"!
* * *
At the sharp command of the lone
bandit standing there in the middle of
the trail, Sacramento Charlie brought
the startled leaders to an abrupt stop,
crossed one leg over the lines, and had
his hands high above his head even by
the time mine were above my own head.
"The 'Short Man,' sure as shootin'!"
he said, in a low aside.
The bandit, still keeping us carefully
covered, moved around to the side of
the coach. A growl of disgust escaped
him when he discovered there were no
passengers within.
"That's a swell bunch of excursionists
you've got on today!" he snorted con-
temptuously.
*Well — you see, pard," spoke up Sac-
ramento apologetically, "you see —
The . bandit stopped him short:
"You shut up, d'ye understand? I'll
do all the talkin' necessary to this oc-
casion; / say, that's a hell-of-a-bunch of
capitalists you've got along with you to-
day!"
To this remark of the bandit, Sacra-
mento acquiesced by blinking his eyes
in patient resignation.
"That's right — better not!" commented
the other in surly tones, referring evidently,
212
THE SHORT MAN FROM LONG CREEK
to the fact of Sacramento's having ceased
all verbal intercourse; "jes' blink — but
don't say nothin'!"
He lowered his gun a trifle, and stood
gazing at us in pensive contemplation,
seemingly at a loss whether to bother with
us any further, or to let us drive on in peace.
My early trepidation had now entirely
disappeared. I awaited his every word
and movement with breathless interest.
I felt a sudden secret glow of exultation
come over me; even if I should never see
or hear of him again — I already had my
' 'story"; I had been held up by the Short
Man from Long Creek! It was an ex-
perience, which, if played up well and
accompanied by a sworn statement of
the affair from Sacramento Charlie
(there are those who would believe a stage-
driver under oath), would make a very
creditable feature article, and reflect
no little glory to the paper I represented —
for its enterprise in negotiating so original
an idea as a premeditated and solicited
"hold-up," by the notorious "Short Man"
himself. I hoped he would be in no very
great hurry to terminate the meeting. He
seemed about on the point of doing so,
however, when he chanced to see a ring
upon my finger, as it flashed in the -sun.
"Let me see ttiat ring!" he exclaimed
quickly, advancing to my side of the coach,
and holding out his left hand for it. I
withdrew it from my finger, and held it
down to him.
The ring itself, while possessing no
great intrinsic value, was an old heirloom,
of peculiar design and workmanship —
a coiled serpent, encircling a large blue
stone — a lapis lazuli. I prized it highly,
and was loath to part with it. The bandit,
however, also seemed to admire it. "I'll
jes' keep this," he said quietly, and tucked
it down into his pocket.
The insolent arrogance with . which
he calmly appropriated my property was
almost unbearable, and I found it difficult
to restrain my resentment; for while the
ring had been in my family for several
generations, it was only recently that it
had been entrusted to my keeping. How-
ever, I knew it would be worse than useless
to make any plea to retain it.
Now, gents," resumed the short gentle-
man, "I must leave you. I will step into
the woods here at my left; and you —
will wait jes' where, you are for ten
minutes, at the end of which time you may
drive on. Remember now" — here he
tapped on his gun significantly — "ten
minutes!"
With this he backed hurriedly into the
shrubbery, and in another moment was
lost to view.
* * *
The Evans ranch, so I learned on ar-
riving at Grizzly Flats, lay some ten or
twelve miles to the southward of that
point; consequently I did not attempt to
go out there that same night, but started
with a hired team and driver bright and
early the next morning. Arriving within
a mile or so of my destination, I dismissed
the conveyance, and made the balance
of the way on foot, as it seemed unwise
either to remove my disguise in the pres-
ence of the driver, or after reaching the
ranch.
Following a narrow, winding footpath
along through the wooded banks of a
small stream, I made my way toward the
humble cabin which the driver had pointed
out as the one belonging to George Evans;
on reaching the edge of the little clearing,
I beheld the owner himself. He was
leaning against the gate to a little garden
back of his cabin, in a pensive attitude,
facing in the direction opposite me. He
seemed lost in sombre reverie, and was
totally unaware of my approach. I de-
cided to advance cautiously, and surprise
him.
It suddenly came over me as I looked
at him standing there that his figure
bore a striking resemblance to one I had
recently seen; in fact, he was an exact
counterpart of the Short Man! The
same squat figure, broad, heavy shoulders
and long dangling arms. I made up my
mind that I would have a good laugh at
his expense, when I told him how greatly
he resembled, in make-up, the bandit;
for of course I fully expected to confide
at once my mission in the locality, and to
solicit my friend's aid.
I was within three feet of him when I
stepped upon a dried twig, and he heard
me; he turned on the instant, and I found
myself looking into the barrel of his six-
shooter!
214
THE SHORT MAN FROM LONG CREEK
Then, as he recognized me, he replaced
his gun — sort of sheepish I thought — and
his face underwent a wondrous change.
"Well, that's a nice way to welcome an
old friend," I said, laughing at his dis-
comfiture— " 'specially after you've in-
vited him time and time again down to
see you; what did you think it was — a
hold-up?"
He ignored my query, but burst out
in the same old hearty manner he always
had toward me: "Old Howard, by all
that's holy! Say, bo — I'm sure glad to see
you; how'd you get here — walk all the
way from Frisco?"
He clapped me heartily on the shoulder,
and held out his right hand to clasp mine;
then came my turn at being dumfounded,
and I stood there rigid with astonishment
and surprise; upon his finger I beheld — my
lapis lazuli ring!
Fortunately, in the excess of his welcome,
he failed to discern my perturbation; by
the time we reached the cabin I had my-
self well in hand again, though my brain
was still in a mad whirl of conflicting
emotions.
Evans was genuinely glad to see me —
there could be no mistaking that. He
seated me in the cozy little sitting-room
by the side of a small table, upon which
he placed refreshments; then drawing
his chair up directly opposite, he started
in on a stream of talk concerning old times
at college, in which I made a superhuman
effort to join.
A torrent of wild, maddening thoughts
kept rushing through my brain as I listened.
"Poor — poor old Evans!" I reflected con-
stantly, gazing across at him; "can it be
that, surly recluse as you - are — bitter
against mankind — you have at last turned
out bad? Can it be that the thought of
your coming marriage — and your strait-
ened circumstances — have led you into
obtaining money dishonorably! — a bandit
—a thief!"
Then there came to me the remembrance
that the personage who held me up used
a variety of grammar strangely at variance
with that of a college graduate; I grasped
at this as a drowning man to a straw — it
couldn't — couldn't have been this man
whom I had trusted implicitly all these
years; and yet — the peculiarity of his
diction might have been assumed, for a
purpose! Still he sat there, eager-eyed
and with face aglow, delighting in my
presence and the breaking of his solitude —
by one he considered his friend — while
I struggled with doubts, fears and con-
jectures— the only legitimate conclusion
of my bewildered senses.
At length, perfectly unconscious that
he had been doing comparatively all the
talking, he began telling me of the girl
he was soon to marry ; of how he loved her ;
how he hoped — above all things on this
earth — to make her happy.
"Howard, old man," he said, at length',
a strange hoarseness in his voice — "she
trusts me — and believes in me; and
Howard . . . yo u and the little girl — are
the only ones who have always done that;
the only ones in all the world who have
not wronged and misjudged me!"
What could I say — or believe! Was I
not at that very instant wronging him in
my own mind — misjudging him most
cruelly!
I bent forward slightly, and centered
my gaze upon the blue ring again; he
noticed the movement, and said quickly,
with a sudden change of voice: "I'm glad
you got here just when you did; there's
something weighing on my mind — I must
talk it over with you; excuse me one
moment, please —
With that he arose, called to some one
at work, evidently, at the front of the
cabin, then resumed his seat at the table
in silence. Presently, I heard the sound
of shuffling feet outside, the door flew
open and a man approached the table
where we were sitting; as I looked up I
«net the glance — unmistakable this time —
of the Short Man from Long Creek!
He looked at me searchingly but failed
to recall our recent meeting. Evans,
with a slight motion of his hand toward
the new-comer, was about to speak, but
I stopped him short. "Wait one moment !"
I exclaimed bluntly, and drawing the black
beard from an inside pocket, suddenly
adjusted it to my face and turned to the
man standing beside us. The effect upon
him was electrical. With a low, startled
cry he reached to his hip for his gun.
There was no mistaking the gleam of
murder in his eyes . . . and I shot — just
THE SHORT MAN FROM LONG CREEK
215
as his own gun was levelled at my head!
He sank to the floor without a moan. We
carried him into an adjoining room, and
laid him across the bed, neither of us ex-
changing a word as we looked to the extent
of his injuries and cared for him as best
we could.
* * *
It was late in the night when Evans
returned with the doctor for whom he
went hurriedly in search, to attend the
wounded man; and it was only after the
wound had been carefully dressed that I
got a chance to speak with him, alone,
and to explain in detail the meaning of
the whole affair, concerning which, though
it must have mystified him greatly, he
had not asked me one word. Plainly,
then, from beginning to end, I told him
the whole thing. He listened to me in
silence, apparently unmoved, but I know
now how he must have been suffering.
When I had finished, he revealed the con-
cluding chapter.
"Howard, old man," he began quietly —
"that man you shot . . . was my broth-
er!"
"Evans!" I exclaimed, starting up in
horror, "you don't mean —
"Now, be quiet, old man," he resumed
calmly; "I don't blame you in the least;
it was destiny; it had to come — sooner
or later. Now listen; the man was my
brother — my poor, half-crazed brother —
brought to that deplorable condition by
a blow upon the head a number of years
ago; my brother — whom his own family,
who should have sought to shield and pro-
tect, has sought to disown — to cast off —
to place in a wretched asylum — any thing
to get him out of their way — the poor,
unfortunate hindrance — the helpless det-
riment to their social ambitions and
triumphs! A few months ago, in one of
his more rational periods, he came to me —
wretched, weary, forlorn. With tears
he begged me — implored me to do that
which only any brother should do — to
care for him; and not to let the others
send him away forever. I took him in.
I fancied that quiet and stillness here were
helping him; though at times I could
still detect the old half-crazed look in
his eyes. He seemed in constant fear
lest I — as all the others had done — should
turn against him; as those had done from
whom he should have had only kindness,
compassion and loving care. Finally,
as though in an attempt to ingratiate
himself in my good graces, he began be-
stowing upon me presents of various sorts.
At times, these were articles of some value;
again, they would be some trifling trinkets
which only served to set me wondering
where he could have become possessed
of them. I questioned him in vain; on
that one topic he refused absolutely to
speak — though in all other ways he obeyed
my every wish and demand. Yesterday,
he brought me this blue ring. Here — I
return it to you; and now," he added
hoarsely, "you know all!"
I took back the ring; and I clasped the
hand which held it fervently, and in a
clasp which conveyed a silent and supreme
sympathy which reached his heart more
surely and swiftly than words could have
done.
We returned again to the room where
the injured man lay. The doctor met us
with a look of encouragement. "It was
only a glancing scalp-wound," he said
quietly; "he will of a certainty recover;
and what is more — I have every reason
to hope and believe — that when he re-
gains consciousness — it will be with a
normally clear brain again!"
A look of abiding comfort and thank-
fulness came into the eyes of my friend,
and we resumed our seats by the table.
"Now, George, old man," I said cheerily
— the aching load removed completely
from my heart— "let's talk of the little
girl again, and the happy days to come."
"Yes, Howard," he replied quickly,
"and forget those days which are gone
forever — the 'bandit days' — of the 'Short
Man from Long Creek' ! "
PASSING OF THE PLOW HORSE
By JOHN ARBUTHNOTTE
TV7ITHIN ten years approximately eight
** million acres of farm land in the
United States and Western Canada have
been taken away from the horse and
turned over to the steam and fuel engine
to be plowed, and the farmers of Illinois,
Iowa, Indiana and other parts of the
"corn belt" are beginning to follow the
example set by the owner of larger farms
in the newer prairie sections. The im-
'provements made within the last few
years in the smaller traction engine using
gasoline or oil, have also solved many of
the problems presented in the "moist"
district of soft soils and small farms,
which the old and larger steam traction
engines could not meet.
When man first began to till the soil
he used a stick to scratch up the surface
of the ground sufficiently to bury the
seed. When the ox was trained to work
for him, he constructed a rude wooden
plow in order to utilize the greater strength
of the animal. When man learned the
uses of iron he affixed a metal share to
the old wooden plow and thought he had
made great progress. The metal plow
underwent slow improvements, but until
the advent of steel, progress in plow-
making was not rapid.
More has been accomplished within the
last fifty years in the evolution of the
plow than in all the prior centuries. With
the perfection of the moldboard and disk
steel plows a great step forward was taken.
When plows were' made in "gangs" with
a seat for the plowman while he drove
two, four or six horses, it was thought the
limit of efficiency had been reached.
About thirty years ago, however, when
the steam traction threshing engine came
into use, the farmer naturally tried to use
its power for other farm work, especially
plowing. Twenty years of failures fol-
lowed, the engines being too small, and
not properly constructed, and the plows
unsuitable, both in weight and shape.
When a number of the old style plows were
hitched together, they proved unwieldy,
accidents and breaks were numerous, and
the work cost much more than that done
by the old method.
With the opening up of the vast Western
prairies and the growth of grain farming
on a large scale, the manufacturers of
traction engines began to study power-
plowing, and as the threshing engines were
made larger to design them so they could
also be utilized for plowing.
Today, about ten years after the first
practical traction plowing engine was
made there are ten thousand operating
in America and Canada, each of which
plows an average of eight hundred acres
a year. Some of the larger steam plows
average one thousand acres, or more,
but the lighter gasoline and other internal
combustion engines plow enough less to
bring the average down to eight hundred.
An illustration of the saving in time —
and in crop yield — comes from the Last
Mountain Valley in Saskatchewan where
a section 'of rich wild sod land — 640
acres — was broken in thirty-six hours,
three steam outfits working continu-
ously in order to get the land plowed
immediately. A six-horse team with a
gang plow would have required a month,
Sundays included, to perform the same
amount of work. The result was that the
owner was able to plant his entire 640
acres at the right time, instead of only
a small portion of it as would have been
the case had he depended upon animal
power.
Traction plowing has reached its great-
est development in the newer agricultural
regions where the land is level and the
farms are large. There are many outfits
in the valleys of Utah, Wyoming, Montana
and Idaho; they are becoming more
numerous in the corn belt; California is
growing familiar with them; large num-
bers are found in western Nebraska,
(216)
PASSING OF THE PLOW HORSE
217
Kansas, Colorado, western Oklahoma and
northern Texas; in eastern South Dakota,
North Dakota and western Canadian
provinces of Manitoba, Alberta and Sas-
katchewan the traction plow swarms — it
has wrought wonders in the breaking of
whole empires of virgin sod.
In fact the rapid increase of the culti-
vated area in the newer northwestern
states and in western Canada, has been
due in great part to the traction plow.
There vast stretches of virgin prairie sod,
level, firm, with tough grass roots, were
acres as otherwise would have been pos-
sible. As the crops have been bountiful,
this has meant a profit aggregating mil-
lions of dollars." Mr. Pearson, from an
experience as wide as any other man in
Canada, added:
"The theoretical plowing capacity of
the steam plow is thirty-eight acres a day
for the moldboard plow and forty-five
acres for the disk, the day being twelve
hours long. The daily actual average as
gained from reports made by plow owners
is twenty -three acres for moldboard plows
A THIRTY-TWO HORSE-POWER TRACTION PULLING A TWELVE-GANG SHARE PLOW
not broken fast enough with a single
plow and team of horses or oxen.
"Settlers have poured in at such a rate
that the transformation that has taken
place in Canada's western provinces would
have been impossible but for the traction
plow," said William Pearson of Winnipeg,
who has colonized the Last Mountain
Valley and other great regions along the
Canadian Northern's new lines known in
Saskatchewan. "It is interesting to con-
sider where the settler would be if he had
not had great heavy tractors to do part
of the breaking for him. It has enabled
him to get into crop several times as many
in the Northwest, and twenty-six acres
for the disk plow in the Southwest. The
moldboard plow is used almost exclusively
in the Northwest and the disk in the
Southwest."
The plains of Western Canada have
suddenly developed into wheat fields by
this aid. In 1900, about the time the
traction plow became unquestionably prac-
tical, there were less than two and a half
million acres sown to wheat between
Winnipeg and the mountains. In 1909
Saskatchewan alone had 4,085,000 acres
sown to wheat which yielded 90,255,000
bushels, or more than Manitoba and Alberta
218
PASSING OF THE PLOW HORSE
STEAM PLOWING IN THE LAST MOUNTAIN VALLEY
combined. Manitoba had 2,643,111 acres
which yielded 45,774,707 bushels; and
Alberta 333,000 acres which yielded
8,250,000 bushels. These three new prov-
inces combined had 7,058,111 acres which
yielded a total of 144,279,707, or more
wheat in one year than the entire German
Empire.
The South and Middle West in the
United States are not adapted for plow-
ing with the large steam outfits in use in
the prairie sections, because of the small
fields, the lack of custom work and the
low price per acre for plowing, as well as
climatic conditions. Most of the plowing is
done in the winter and spring and the land
is too moist and soft for the heavy steam
engines. The development, about six
years ago, of the smaller and lighter gaso-
line and other internal combustion en-
gines, which can be used in such fields
and also to supplement the work of horses
in cultivating and for other purposes, is
progressing so rapidly that it may not be
many years before traction plowing in
these districts becomes a common occur-
rence. The use of even the smaller
motors is notjpractical in the Eastern
HERE THE HORSE STILL HOLDS THE FIELD
Notice the old-fashioned one-share walking plow in the center of the cut
LIFE'S SEESAW
219
states, on account of the grades and the
small fields.
Steam engines used for plowing are
usually rated at from twenty to fifty horse
power, from twenty-five to thirty-five
being the usual figure. This does not
mean that a fifty-horse power engine can
do as much plowing as fifty horses. A
part of the power developed must be
utilized by the engine to move itself.
The power of the horse is measured by
its effective pull, while the engine will do
more while standing still than while
moving. Much of the power is also lost
by transmission, and a reserve must be
maintained for such emergencies as the
horse can overcome by exerting several
times his normal efficiency for brief periods.
The steam plowing engines weigh from
seven to twenty tons and cost from $1,500
to $3,000. On the Pacific Coast the usual
engine is larger, averaging about sixty
horse power and costing from $5,000 to
$6,000. The average cost of the miscel-
laneous equipment for the steam plowing
outfit adds another $500 to the investment.
As nearly as can be gathered from the
short time traction plows have been in
regular use, the life of one is estimated at
ten years. In California some of the
owners of large outfits, plowing nearly
thirty-five hundred acres annually each,
estimate the average life of the outfit at
fifteen years, or more than fifty thousand
acres per plow, in addition to the threshing
and other work done outside of plowing
seasons.
A crew of from three to six men is needed
to operate a large steam plow. One is
the engineer, whose pay ranges from
$3.00 to $4.75 per day; one [guides the
engine, one fires, one looks after the plows,
one drives the team that keeps the engine
supplied with water and fuel, and in many
cases a cook also is carried. The prices
charged by .traction plowing outfits range
from seventy-five cents to $5.00 per acre.
The lowest figures usually are for stubble
plowing and the highest for breaking sod.
The acre cost of steam plowing, as found
by a comprehensive investigation of con-
ditions, runs from eighty-five cents to $1.89.
LIFE'S SEESAW
IN ye find a heart that's weary,
And that needs a brither's hand,
Dinna thou turn from it, dearie;
Thou maun help thy fellowman.
Thou, too, hast a hidden heartache,
Sacred from all mortal ken,
And because of thine own grief's sake
Thou maun feel for ither men.
In this world o' seesaw, dearie,
Grief goes up and joy comes down,
Brows that catch the sunshine cheerie
May tomorrow wear a frown.
Bleak December, dull and dreary,
Follows on the heels of May.
Give thy trust unstinted, dearie,
Thou mayst need a friend some day.
—From "Heart Throbs."
&too Cijrtetmag Hut*
[/"RISS KRINGLE walked the city ablaze with festal light,
1V- "I would see," said he, "how mortals keep the Christ-Child's memory
bright."
Within a stately mansion a giant Christmas tree
Blazed, loaded down with costly gifts, a goodly sight to see.
O'er it a white dove hovered; amid its branches shone
White taper-flames, and globes whose hues mocked every precious stone.
But Kriss Kringle's brow was troubled, for greed on every side
Robbed the fair gifts of their blessing, and Love was lost in Pride;
While pampered menials, jeering, drove the hungry from the door;
"He hath no share in Christmastide who thinks not on God's poor."
Mused the loving spirit sadly as he plunged into the night;
" 'Tis the light of Love and Kindness keeps the Christ-Child's memory
bright." n
A crazy window-shutter fenced a cracked and dingy pane
From the fiercest of the weather and the full sweep of the rain.
Some twinkling rush-lights glimmered in the bare and fireless room.
A tiny fir-branch shimmered 'mid the half -lighted room.
It bore four rosy apples, a top, a knife, a doll,
Such as the leanest purse may buy; rough, poor and tawdry all.
Yet Carl and Hans and Gretchen capered and laughed with glee
In the unwonted radiance of the blessed Christmas tree.
Kriss Kringle saw the mother give the poor gifts away
Till the last and largest apple hung twirling from the spray.
"You can cut that," said the father, but little Hans spake low,
"Poor Wilhelm has no mother, she died six days ago.
He has no one to love him, no pretty Christmas toys,
No candles bright to give him light like all the other boys."
Then honest Hans the porter laid down his pipe and kissed
The pitying child and straightway sought the orphan as he wished.
How the children gave him welcome and the poor gift made him ~1
How, while the rush-lights lasted, a merry romp they had;
It were too long to tell you; but still I fain would say
What good Kriss Kringle smiling said as he went his way;
"Blest is this home forever for love and pity greet
The ever-loving Christ-Child; but where his entering feet
Find that no human sorrow may pass the jealous door,
Therein his Father's wrath shall find a ready threshing-floor.
Better this gloomy hovel than the palace bathed in light;
Since in it Love and Pity keep the Christ-Child's memory bright."
— Charles Winslow Hall.
A DAY AT THE STOUT INSTITUTE
By MITCHELL MANNERING
DEAUTIFULLY located among the hills
•*-' of western Wisconsin, the Stout Insti-
tute of Menomonie is widely known and
commended by all educators for work
accomplished along practical and modern
lines.
The training school, built in 1898 by
Mr. James H. Stout of Menomonie, one
of the well-known and most beloved
citizens of the state of Wisconsin, was
when completed the best equipped insti-
tute in the world devoted to the instruc-
tion of public school teachers in- art,
manual training and domestic science.
Its stately tower, silhouetted against the
wooded hills, is indeed a noble monument
to the indomitable and beneficent pur-
poses of its founder, who has put his heart
and soul into his great work with unre-
served vitality and vigor. Wherever he
may be, in New York, Chicago or Boston,
he is always intent upon providing some-
thing new for his beloved school.
Mr. Stout realized twelve years ago
that there was great need of instructors
in manual training and domestic science,
and the institute seeks to provide compe-
tent and effective teachers in these lines.
The fact that its graduates are today
teaching in twenty-one different states and
are in charge of special lines in city schools,
and the rapid adoption of manual training
departments in the different public schools
all over the country indicate the wisdom of
Mr. Stout's efforts to develop these im-
portant branches of education. The Stout
schools are no longer an experiment —
they have marked the necessity of manual
training in lower grades and each year
an increasing number of pupils from all
over the country come to Menomonie to
receive practical instruction in the course
of study and teaching here provided.
The principal work of the institute is
in the training of young men and young
women for teachers of manual training and
domestic science, and that work in the
public schools is a distinct line carried
on chiefly by the members of the senior
classes of prospective teachers. This
enables the institute to give the city the
benefits of a very extended line of man-
ual training and domestic science work,
while at the same time it offers oppor-
tunities for practice teaching to students
not available in any other institution in
the United States. Under the auspices of
the institute, experimental lines of work
that may be called industrial in character
are carried on in the public schools.
In company with L. D. Harvey,
president of the institute, the various
departments were visited, and the prac-
tical results of their instruction and train-
ing were shown. An old building near
the square had just been transformed
into a charming and cosy office building
for the institute as the demands for room
became insistent. The boys and girls had
planned the reconstruction of the building,
decorated the rooms artistically, and more
important still, made all contracts for the
work at an expense that would have made
any purchasing agent look well to his
laurels. The young ladies put into the
renovated structure the magical charms
of effective furnishing and tasteful decora-
tion as a practical demonstration of what
they had learned in Menomonie.
In one of the buildings a Home-Makers'
School has been instituted, which under-
takes to instruct the woman students in
all practical home duties and all the re-
sponsibilities of home-life, the benefits
of which instruction are inestimable. The
home-makers go about their work with a
conscientiousness and enthusiasm that
have influenced graduates of Wellesley,
Vassar and other famous educational in-
stitutions in the East to complete their
college days at Menomonie, in a post-
graduate cour se, as it were, to equip them
thoroughly for the duties of domestic life.
Little chaps of ten or twelve are at
(221)
222
A DAY AT THE STOUT INSTITUTE
work .in the blacksmiths' shops making
real things in iron, and the exhibition of
real miniature frame houses, complete in
every detail, emphasizes the value of
early training'jn useful and constructive
MAIN BUILDING
work/"no^matterjwhat vocation may be
taken up later.
A knowledge of plumbing in these days
has become a necessity to the house-
holder, and the application to the insti-
tute for instructions in this work
has been a most gratifying en-
dorsement. A point impressed
upon one in talking with the
students is that they not only
know how to do things them-
selves, but they have acquired
the faculty to train others to do
them.
What boy does not like to
make things? The Stout Insti-
tute boy knows how to drive a
nail and how to blow a forge, also
how to mend a leak in the water
pipes. He is being trained to do
many things in life for which at
present there may seem no par-
ticular use, but there always
comes a time when it counts
either directly or indirectly.
Brick-making, tin-smithing, cabinet-laying,
wood-carving, labor in the foundries and
machine shops — a practical training in one
of the best shops in the country — all are
takenTup in turn. Mechanical and archi-
tectural drafting and professional courses
follow in due course, with special empha-
sis laid on intelligent observation and
practical teaching. One cannot see these
students at work without realizing that
while emphasis is laid upon excel-
lence in manual training and its
different branches, part of the
time is devoted to the application
of new ideas and enterprises. The
esthetic side has not been over-
looked, and it is truly fascinating
to watch the processes taken up
in modelling, painting and plan-
ning of decorations, which mean
better homes and more beautiful
cities and buildings for the future
men and women.
Every visitor is impressed with
the thorough and practical way
in which the scholars are initiated
into social science. Although their
work deals with special subjects,
it must always be related to the
regulation work of the public
schools; for the Stout Institute, perhaps
more fully than any other institution, has
recognized the public school as the founda-
tion of education, and re-inforced the ef-
fectiveness of common-school education.
SWIMMING TANK
The enthusiasm and loyalty that radi-
ates from the enthusiastic faculty and stu-
dents of the institute is felt even among
the young people one meets in the streets,
for Mr. Stout delights in seeing the young
A 'DAY AT THE STOUT INSTITUTE
223
folks enjoy themselves as much as pos-
sible, whether at work or play. If there
is a skating pond to be flooded or some-
thing else to be done to add to their
happiness, that need always conies upper-
most in his mind, and in his quiet, un-
ostentatious way, Mr. Stout has accom-
plished a work that will be ever gratefully
remembered in Menomonie. The gym-
nasium, the natatorium and dormitories of
the institute buildings indicate
his care and thoughtfulness in
providing for the comfort of his
"young people."
While co-operating heartily
with the Public Board of Edu-
cation of Menomonie, the city
is in no way responsible for the
maintenance of the institute.
Mr. Stout's work has been so
broad and comprehensive that
he has been able to co-operate
most effectively with the pub-
lic schools; from the kindergar-
ten to the graduating classes,
nothing has been neglected to
impress properly on the child-
ish mind the importance of
knowing how to do things.
The curriculum of the insti-
tute inspires interest and new
hope for the future of public
education. The work under
Professor Harvey, the presi-
dent, has progressed marvel-
ously. One of the best-known
educators in the country, with
an experience ranging through
district schools, city schools,
academies, colleges and uni-
versities, Mr. Harvey is a man
-of broad practical ideas; he un-
derstands human nature and
the necessities of the times in fitting young
people for the real battle of life.
The work planned for the current term
in the institute is sure to make itself felt
very widely in the educational develop-
ment of the country. The failure of
manual training in some of the Eastern
schools is regrettable, as the work of the
Stout Institute proves more than ever
the necessity of manual training in the
earliest grades of all schools, and shows
that something is radically wrong with the
conception and methods of manual training
in the East. The Stout School Alumni are
intense in their loyalty to their^alma mater,
and their work tells the story./ | ^
The visit was all too brief. AsTwe left
the institute grounds, the boys and girls
were piling into the railroad coaches — off
for the ball game. The fields and woods
around the picturesque town — oncet a
great pine forest — with the silence^broken
SENATOR J. H. STOUT OP MENOMONIE, WISCONSIN
only by the buzz of saw-mills, makes an
appropriate environment for the practical
work inaugurated by Mr. Stout, and the
tributes paid him by home-folks reflect an
inspiring spirit of appreciation and grati-
tude. Down the hill we passed to the
station, with a last glance back at the
stately tower of an institution which
marks a new epoch in getting close to the
boys and girls with an appreciation of
the true value of honest labor and manual
training.
224
A DAY AT THE STOUT INSTITUTE
The atmosphere of the busy little city
is imbued with the influence of this insti-
tution. Such a school, with its high
ideals, its large faculty of high-minded
men and women and its student body of
WOOD TURNING ROOM
nearly 400 earnest young people fitting
themselves for a life work of the utmost
benefit to humanity, must of necessity
impart much of its own spirit to the com-
munity in which it is located. • In addition
to this are two distinct and
definite channels through which
the influence of Stout Institute
flows out among the people of
Menomonie. The effect of these
connections is found in a new
ambition instilled into the hearts
and minds of the young to do
useful things and do them well —
a deep-rooted respect for the
work of the hands when directed
by a trained intellect — and in a
larger and more satisfying social
life among the adult residents of
the city. One of these connec-
tions is established in an arrange-
ment whereby the pupils in all the
grades and the high school of the
Menomonie public school system
receive manual training instruc-
tion from the teachers and students of the
institute, and it is the pride and well-
justified boast of the local school authori-
ties that in no city on the American conti-
nent, large or small, is a more efficient
service of the same kind rendered in the
public schools than here.
In connection with the institute, forming
another bond of union, a commercial club
has been established, membership in which
is open to every reputable male
resident of the city. This club is
made possible by the facilities pro-
vided by the school, for through
the generosity of Mr. Stout it is
allowed the free use of the second
and third floors of the splendid
gymnasium building. A trip
through these quarters will con-
vince any visitor that Menomonie
has club advantages which many
cities cannot duplicate. They
include a luxuriously appointed
reading and rest room, billiard
room, card room and bowling
alley, a complete dining room and
kitchen equipment and in case
the club wishes to serve banquets,
which it does three or four times
every winter, it is allowed the use
of the large and well-lighted gymnasium
proper. A men's class in gymnastics is
conducted by the physical director of the
institute, and the natatorium and extensive
system of baths are available to members.
DOMESTIC'ISCIENCE KITCHEN
This commercial club performs the
functions which other organizations of
similar name fulfill elsewhere, and many
a project for the civic advancement of the
town and its material well-being has been
A DAY AT THE STOUT INSTITUTE
225
fostered through its activities. Its social
and cultural aspects, however, render it
most distinctive. Every Saturday night,
through the winter months, the club has a
party in which both young and old par-
ticipate. These start at six o'clock with
a picnic supper, each family providing its
own luncheon, for at these affairs the mem-
bers are permitted and urged to be ac-
companied by their families. Coffee and
buttermilk are furnished by the club.
After the refreshments, the tables are put
away and from seven to nine o'clock the
little folks are given the privilege of
dancing. After nine the older people take
are drawn into one great civic family for
wholesome pleasure and the lines of wealth
or fashion are never drawn, the institute
has rendered a noble service. But the
blessings brought about through the
happy conception of quartering the com-
mercial club in this building do not end
there. The women of the city have
availed themselves of an opportunity thus
made possible to prosecute a line of up-
lifting endeavor all their own. The
Woman's Social Culture Club has just
begun its third season's work, in which all
women of the city are invited to join.
Organized primarily for "the promotion
GYMNASIUM AND NATATORIUM OF STOUT INSTITUTE, MENOMONIE, WISCONSIN
the floor. At these Saturday night affairs
and in every aspect of the life of the club,
the spirit of true democracy holds sway.
Youth and age and the representatives of
every walk of life meet here upon a common
footing, and no more wholesome example
of the fostering of the family spirit in a
city could be presented than these gath-
erings, where all classes commingle with
such a hearty spirit of good will; every
tendency toward caste is absent and cliques
are completely eliminated.
In providing a recreation place for the
men of the city where every influence is
pure and uplifting, and in affording a
meeting ground on which all elements
of physical culture, social intercourse and
the general betterment of the conditions
of the women of Menomonie on a basis
of a common interest," it is now broad-
ening its scope. Civic improvement and
educational advancement are engaging
greater attention from the organization.
Meanwhile the work of physical improve-
ment, with the exceptional facilities pre-
sented, goes on under the inspection of
the institute's physical directress. From
this outline may be seen how intensive
in its immediate civic and social bearings,
as well as how broad in the new educa-
tional field, is the influence of Stout
Institute.
WILL GAGE CAREY:
Mr. Carey was born at Rochelle. Illinois, where he graduated from the High School; 'then he attended the
University of Illinois, at Champaign; it was here that his start was made in the field of literary endeavor, being
one of the associate editors of The Ittini, the college paper— and also serving a* special correspondent for the
Chicago Evening Post. Mr. Carey is now a resident of Atlanta. Georgia. He has spent a number of years in
newspaper work, but at present is devoting his entire literary effort to writing short fiction, in which field t
has been especially successful. The stories by Mr. Carey which so far have appeared in the NATIONAL MAGAZINI
are as follows: "When Heiny Led the Band"— "The Charge of the Phantom Brigade"— "The Silent Trombone
— "Carmencita"— "The Right Mr. Wright"— "Blub"— "Yo Tambien"— "The Renegade of the Rio ^Grande.
And in this month's issue on page 209 will be found bis "The Short Man From Long Creek.
Among the NATION'S
ADVERTISING
CLUB S
By JOE MITCHELL CHAPPLE
'OR many years I have been
called a "convention freak"
because it has been my good
fortune to attend almost every
sort of convention yet held in this glorious
country of ours — conventions political,
state, county, national, civic, educational
and press, Grand Army and Confederate
Veterans' reunions,Woman's Christian Tem-
perance Union, Band of Mercy and Sunday
School — and altogether I have found them
of inspiring, as well as educational influence.
A gathering together of men who have
to make what they write and pay for
earn money, was the sort of delegates who
attended the meetings of the Associated
Advertising Clubs of America at Omaha.
Like many another large and important
organization, the Associated Advertising
Clubs started purely for social good-fellow-
ship from a little gathering of royal good
fellows in Chicago. The meetings year
by year have rapidly grown in importance,
and last year's convention at Louisville,
Kentucky, became an important epoch
in the history of the association when the
new president, Mr. Samuel C. Dobbs of
Atlanta, pledged himself with an earnest-
ness that sparkled with the spirit of true
evangelism, to do his best to make the
association an exponent of the highest
purposes in advertising — one that could
command public confidence in every way.
I During^the year Mr. Dobbs has traveled
thirty thousand miles and spoken in nearly
all the prominent cities of the country on
the subject of advertising. Though no
special effort was made in that direction,
over twelve hundred members were added,
and many strong and "live wire" clubs
joined the ranks. At Louisville the
Omaha "live wires" secured the conven-
tion for 1910; they promised a great
meeting, and more than fulfilled their
pledge.
It was indeed a gala day at Omaha on
the opening of the convention. The clubs
arriving from the different cities each
displayed some uniform and distinctive
emblem expressive of the individuality
of each advertising body: the Town Crier's
Club of St. Paul with jingling bells; the
Des Moines Club wearing jungle helmets;
the Chicago Club, trim and neat in a uni-
form that would have done justice to a
West Point Cadet; St. Joe, with the
largest advertising club in the country,
headed by the mayor, the inimitable
"Pet" Clayton; at headquarters very
early in the day it was evident that things
were "doing" at Omaha. The convention
train from Chicago suggested an old-time
political excursion, and there was plenty
of buttermilk and Coca-cola aboard. A
brass band met the various delegations,
and it seemed as if the old-time Wide-
awakes of Lincoln's first campaign had
been resurrected. The hearty hospitality
of Omaha made the convention of 1910
a memorable occasion in the experiences
of every delegate.
The hotel lobbies were literally covered
with mottoes and suggestions for advertis-
ing, that at once revealed the presence of
(227)
228
AMONG THE NATION'S ADVERTISING CLUBS
men who knew how to use words in attract-
ing attention. After that hearty greeting
that always characterizes the splendid and
genial good-fellowship between advertising
men, the opening addresses and responses
began a convention of great interest. At
the opening session, even from the invo-
cation of the chaplain to the words of
welcome and response, everything was
done in the approved terse manner de-
JULIUS SCHNEIDER
Advertising Manager "The Fair," Chicago, 111.
manded by advertising regulations. Gov-
ernor Shallenberger, Congressman Hitch-
cock and other heavy artillery of the forum
were brought into action, and hearty ap-
plause greeted every point made by the
speakers.
After a luncheon given by the "Omaha
Bee," the Convention got right down to
business with a discussion of papers and
the great problems involved in up-to-
date advertising. In the evening the
delegates were initiated into the mysterious
order of the Knights of Ak-Sar-Ben. The
weird enchantment of the initiatory exer-
cises, shifting suddenly from the sublime
to the ridiculous, held the breathless
interest of the twelve hundred guests.
The automobile dash, the tottering ladder
and the cage for the animals, not for-
getting the Halley's Pugnosed Comet
sketch, provided an evening of sterling
diversified entertainment — for advertising
men want things to come and go with
celerity. Of all organizations, none have
ever approached the Ak-Sar-Ben in the
spirit of right royal good-fellowship.
A parade started to Boyd's Opera
House from the hotel the next morning,
headed and accompanied by three or four
brass bands whose strains would have
drowned out Ringling's Circus Calliope in
its palmiest days. John Lee Mahin spoke
forcibly on "Trade Marks" and intro-
duced a resolution condemning the Con-
gressional "break" which attributed the
high cost of living to advertising. The
afternoon spent at the Field Club, where
luncheon was served by the "World
Herald," will long be remembered, be-
cause the meetings were continued in the
open air, characteristic of the energy of
the association, this keeping right on with
real business regardless of the festivities —
at no particular place, but wherever the
delegates happened to be.
Former Vice-President Fairbanks gave
a very able and comprehensive review
of advertising in all the world centers
which he has recently visited on his trip
around the world, reviewing the oppor-
tunity offered to this country to profit
by judicious and substantial advertising
and exploitation abroad.
One of the strong addresses was "How
a City Should Advertise," by Herbert S.
Houston of the Doubleday-Page Company,
New York. Lewellyn E. Pratt of Cos-
hocton gave a stirring address on "Post
Graduate Advertising," and his references
to Coshocton as "the sign city" shows
how different cities and towns may become
associated, from concentrated exploita-
tion, with one product made better there
than elsewhere. The remarks of W. R.
Emery on "The Benefits of Organization"
indicated careful study of one of the lead-
ing problems of the times, and "The
Newspaper Field," covered by "Lou"
Wiley of the New York Times, caused
OFFICERS OF THE ADVERTISING CLUBS OP AMERICA FOR THE COMING YEAR
230
AMONG THE NATION'S ADVERTISING CLUBS
the delegates to grow hilarious. An elo-
quent appeal for billboard advertising
was made by E. F. Trebz, who presented
the virtues of outdoor advertising so
forcibly that he could have taken contracts
for space in the blue sky from the gathered
assembly. His Princeton training was re-
vealed in his scholarly address.
There was a strong talk on "Trade
Journal Advertising," by C. M. Wessels;
and W. N. Huse from Norfolk, Nebraska,
in his address, "The Country Newspaper
as an Advertising Medium," indicated
that the "country editors" are the same
strong and potent force they have always
been in advertising. It seemed as if every
sort of topic was discussed, including the
well-known "cost of living." The intro-
duction of advertising in the curriculum
of schools and universities; Frank White's
discussion of agricultural papers, and
Governor Eberhart's "hit" on the subject
of advertising a state, all were greeted with
tumultuous applause. He placed Minnesota
on the map for advertising reflection.
A keen interest was taken in the copy
contest, and the prizes awarded showed
that great interest is taken in this -line
of advertising work. The loving cup pre-
sented by "Printers' Ink" to the Club
that had effected the most in "boosting
its town" last year was awarded to Des
Moines. The many exhibitions of adver-
tising designs showed great advances over
the displays of past years.
The annual address made by President
Dobbs was worthy of the most thoughtful
study, and he was not permitted to con-
clude before he was presented with a
loving cup as a token of the universal
respect and esteem of the delegates. The
chief value of the convention, as seen by
President Dobbs, was the educational
wave radiating from these meetings for
better and more associated work among
the advertising clubs of America. Coupled
with this, the acquisition of acquaintances,
and the interchange of friendly and
judicious criticism made the balance-sheet
show a goodly profit. Every meeting was
replete with epigrammatic, short, snappy
speeches, in which the orators sometimes
told their own troubles, but more often
tried to "boost" their own city or state
without restraint.
With a business-like stroke of the gavel,
President Dobbs opened the meetings,
and there was no lack of timely sugges-
tions and ideas. The address of Julius
Schneider, advertising manager of "The
Fair" in Chicago, was full of epigram-
matic pyrotechnics on practical adver-
tising:
. . . "We are engaged in the busi-
ness of finding out how to vibrate the
'responsive chord' in such groups of
humanity as have the money that we need
in our business. Vibrating the other chords
doesn't count. All other human impulses
which we may move are secondary.
. . . "We may excite mirth or admira-
tion, may gain acquiescence or dissent,
may inspire, respect or create slogans —
these 'don't count.' The only chords which
property reward us are those alone which
center at the mouth of the open purse. Our
percentage of successes will increase and
our percentage of frosts diminish, as we
succeed in keeping in our mind's eye, in
every advertisement throughout every cam-
paign, that one most important idea. There
is constant danger of being sidetracked.
Our personality will obtrude. Our vanity
or pride as often as our ignorance may
enter into conflict with our hard horse
sense or business sense.
. . . "My own measure of a good
advertiser, a good writer, a good agency,
is 'alertness of mind, quickness of percep-
tion and instantaneousness of action' — not
in flashes of scintillating brilliancy, but
in constant, consistent and effective daily
application." The speech, true to its title,
struck "A Responsive Chord in Adver-
tising."
Another heavy battery was brought
into action when Mr. Arthur Brisbane, the
editor-in-chief of the Hearst newspapers,
gave one of those inimitable talks which
are read by millions of readers. Mr.
Brisbane said in opening that his business
was not speaking; indeed, he had not
come to speak: "I came out here to talk
to some men in this town, and to see this
Western country and get some informa-
tion for myself."
He didn't hesitate to explain the basis
on which he received his salary of $73,000
a year. "I made arrangements with Mr.
Hearst on the basis of increase in circula-
232
AMONG THE NATION'S ADVERTISING CLUBS
tion, and in your advertising, you should
make arrangements on results. I said to
Mr. Hearst: 'This salary of eight thou-
sand dollars is ridiculous, and I want you
to give me a chance to make a hundred
thousand dollars inside of a couple of
years.' He looked astonished and didn't
know how it could be done; it was finally
agreed that I should have a thousand
dollars for every thousand increase in
circulation. That was in December. In
December I got $8,000, in January $9,000,
in February $11,000; finally in June,
when the war was well under way, I made
$23,000; and it nearly killed the business
manager when he gave me the check.
I went to work for $8,000 a year, and in
six months I made altogether over $73,000
on circulation.
"I hope the next thing you get into,"
he concluded, "you'll make such an ar-
rangement as I did with Hearst, and say,
'I would like a chance to make a hundred
thousand dollars in a few years.' "
It is clear in looking Arthur Brisbane
square in the eye, whether across the
breakfast table or on the platform, that
he has, above all else, a business head.
Just at this time he is deeply interested
in the success of his great fruit farm in
New Jersey, also in his five automobiles,
to which a sixth — or so he says — is soon
to be added.
Early in the convention there was
enough of a "scrap" to make it interesting
to secure the next convention. Boston
was early in the fray, and the contest
against Milwaukee was hot; it was a
regular "Tippecanoe and Tyler too" cam-
paign that carried the day — though the
Boston delegates exercised their lungs
with a parody on that classic and dignified
ballad, "Has Anybody Here Seen Kelly?"
The Milwaukee Club made a brave fight
for the convention, backed by Mayor
Seidle. They have just completed a
handsome new Convention Hall, and could
think of nothing more fitting to grace
the year 1911 than the meeting of the
Advertising Clubs. But they're all coming
to Boston, and Milwaukee remains just
as ready to do her best when her turn
comes, as before Boston carried off the
honors.
Lincoln was there with her several
hundred strong — Denver, Dallas, Knox-
ville, Atlanta — where was the live city
not represented? It was felt that the
selection of Boston for a meeting-place
next year would help to make the organi-
zation more national in its scope and
spirit, and the Pilgrim Publicity Club
of the "Hub" has pledged itself to make
it a meeting deserving of "Boston, the
City of Worth While," for a host of dele-
gates will come to Boston and bring along
their wives — that they too may enjoy
the good-fellowship that exists among
those who are trying to make advertising
more effective and interesting; to make
more equitable the distribution of the
comforts and luxuries of life. It deals
with what Herbert Spencer called "the
great question of civilization" — the prob-
lem of distribution — and that is the vital
factor of advertising.
Dutch luncheons came so thick and
furious between-times that nearly every
tongue was talking Teutonic, and who
could forget the dinner in the Summer
Garden given by the Daily News, when
everyone just "expressed" himself without
reserve or formality? There was a ride
up the river that night, where one of the
tests popular prior to the fiasco at Reno
was given.
In mediums of printers' ink and paint
are expressed sentiments just as vital in
their import as those of the manifestos
of kings and emperors in days gone past.
For the sovereign people will listen to
the sovereign advertiser when he has
something really sovereign to offer —
otherwise it is passed on, and the "sov-
ereigns" go somewhere else or along with
the "lost talent" of silver.
It hardly seemed possible, when it was
all over, that five hundred delegates had
been shoulder to shoulder and scarcely
out of each other's company for three
whole days. After the election of officers
there was a rush for packing grips — no
trunks had been permitted — the badges
were carefully stowed away to take home
as souvenirs for the family, and the dele-
gates scattered to the four points of the
compass with hearty handclasps of appre-
ciation of what it means to be an adver-
tising man — and attend a convention of
the guild in good old Omaha.
TheNOBILITYof the TRADES
THE BLACKSMITH
By Charles Winslow Hall
"And Regin cried to his harp-strings,
Before the days of men, I smithied the
Wrath of Sigurd!"
— William Morris in "Sigurd the Volsung"
BEFORE the days of men" the
mystery and craft of the smith
lived and later became the
heritage of Odin and his de-
scendants. "Dwarf -wrought," in hidden
mountain caverns and mystical forges in
the bowels of the earth, were the weapons
and mail, the golden rings and massive
torques, the ingenious utensils that
from the mysterious East first came
into the possession and stimulated the
invention of our Aryan ancestors. Su-
perhuman and magical was
all the earliest work in gold,
silver, bronze and steel in
the opinion of the nations
of northern Europe.
Such wisdom and power
were attributed to the work-
er in iron and other metals
that the Norse chiefs and
kings were proud of such
skill and not uncommonly
exercised it in forging their
own weapons and armor.
With solemn incantations
sword blade and spearhead
were given shape, and
"words of power," engraved E
or inlaid in Runic charac-
ters, gave to trenchant edge
and keen point supernatural
and irresistible powers. Sword, axe and
bill were very generally given a name, al-
most always a masculine one in the north
of Europe, although there were exceptions,
as in the case of the bill or spear-headed
war axe owned by Gunnar of Lithend, and
later wielded by .Skarphedin, always spoken
of in the Icelandic Saga of "Burnt Njal"
FORGED IRON CLOCK
Fifteenth Century
as the "Ogress of War.'* But "Volsung"
or "Balmung," also called "The Wrath
of Sigurd," the great northern epic hero,
variously sung of as Sigurd, Sigfrid and
Siegfried in the "Nibelungen Lied"; like
"Footbreadth" of "Thoralf the Strong";
"Quernbiter, of King Haakon the Good";
"Excalibur" or "Caliburn, the Well-
Tempered," the fated sword of King Arthur;
"Hred-lan," the magical blade of Saxon
Beowulf, the slayer of the demon Grendel;
Mimungor Memming, "The Biter," famous
in Norse myths, were all given mascu-
line titles and attributes.
The Latin peoples held the smith in
less honor and gave his blades feminine
titles. Count William of
Angouleme, who at the battle
of Hastings rode in advance
of William the Norman's
army, singing lustily:
"Of Charlemagne and of
Rolande,
Olivier and his vassals
true
Who died with him at
Roncesvalles" ;
and playing like a juggler
with his great sword, was
called "Taillefer" because he
had once sh«rn a man in
halves with one sweep of
that weapon which he had
given the feminine name of
"Durissima," the Hardest or
Best -Tempered. The "Cid
Campeador," noblest of Spanish chivalry,
had two wonderful swords, "Tisona"
and "Colada," and Rolande or Orlando,
who fell at Roncesvalles, made immortal
forever his great sword, "Durandal."
Nearly all these ancient swords had a
more or less wonderful history, of which
it is here only necessary to say that the
(233)
234
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
gods, or their foes, the giants, dwarfs and
more modern magicians, were their re-
puted makers and bestowers.
In Grecian mythology Hephaistos, the
Vulcan of the Latins, forged, in the Isle
of Lemnos, Herpe, the irresistible sword of
Hermes (Mercury), whose blade was
of a single diamond. The excavations of
Dr. Schliemann amid the ruins of Mycenae
^brought to light what are believed to be
the weapons carried by Agamemnon and
his companions at the siege of Troy, and
buried with them by Clytemnestra,
VULCAN AND HIS CYCLOPS
Agamemnon's wife, who murdered them
on their return to Greece. Replicas of a
sword and dagger found in these tombs
amid the bones of the princely victims,
exhibited at the Boston Art Museum,
reveal iron or steel blades beautifully
inlaid with gold and bronze, hilted with
gold, and altogether worthy of admira-
tion as effective weapons and works of
art.
But back of Grecian smith-work lies
the antiquity of Egyptian art and of that
Phoenician skill of which one can read so
much and learn so little. Somewhere
back of Odin and Zeus, Egyptian Amen
and Phoenician Baal and- Ashtoreth, lived
a man who received from divine inspira-
tion the gift of metallurgical skill, or as
some would have us believe, rose from a
drop of jelly through innumerable trans-
formations to a demi-savage, who made
clubs and sharp flints the antetypes of
bronze celts, and soft iron sword blades.
Pliny records that the best steel used
at Rome in his day came from China, a
country whose historians claim that bronze
or copper swords were used "in the days
of Ki, the son of Yu," B. C. 2197-48, and
those of iron under Kung-Kia, B. C. 1897—
48. According to the Arundelian marbles,
iron was first known to the Greeks, B. C.
1432, nearly two centuries and a half be-
fore the Trojan War, which is supposed to
have begun B. C., 1184, but the Bible
declares that nearly thirty-six centuries
before Christ, Tubal Cain — seventh in
descent from Adam through Cain, his
first-born son — was "an instructor of
every artificer in brass and iron." Jo-
sephus declares of him that he was "the
inventor of brass" (or bronze), which
would indicate that bronze instead of
being made before iron was forged, was
the later invention. The writer believes
that man, when created, being too help-
less to depend on his teeth and nails like
the beasts around him, was given the
knowledge that he needed to supply his
wants, make weapons and tools, and
guard against dangerous and poisonous
vegetable and animal life. That this
knowledge as it came from the Creator
was far more complete and sufficient than
is generally believed, and was gradually
diffused through Asia, Europe and Africa
by wars and migrations of which we have
at best only vague myths and traditions,
that civilizations rose to great eminence,
and declining were replaced by desolation
and savagery, we know; and with these
changes the art of the smith also rose,
declined, and fell into desuetude. In lands
where iron abounded, as in Africa, myriads
of cannibals, who had never seen a white
man, or trader, were found by Stanley to
be skilful smiths. In Mexico, where even
now iron is not largely distributed, copper
and bronze supplied its place among a"
more than half -civilized people.
In many places where bronze weapons
are found, no iron mines exist, and all
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
235
over Europe the similarity in shape of a the Roman people ' 'should use no iron
large proportion of the bronzes points to except in agriculture." Cyrus the Great
a common source of supply, and to a thus crippled the defeated Lydians, and
system of vessel and caravan trade such it is well said by English historians that
as still supplies the needs of millions in the possession of the iron mines of the
Asia, Africa and South America, and south of England by William the Norman,
which to a less extent existed between the was a disadvantage to the north country-
Indians and Esquimaux tribes of America.
Undoubtedly the Phoenicians possessed
steel weapons, and just as
certainly they carried on a
vast trading intercourse with
the whole maritime popula-
tion of the Mediterranean
and European coasts. May
it not have been their policy
for generations to keep the
keener and more desirable
weapons and sell to barbari-
ans the bronze substitutes,
just as African traders have
sold "gas -pipe guns" and
"trade powder" and kept
for themselves the rifle and
revolver?
When the Israelites de-
feated "Og, King of Bashan,"
about B. C. 1851, the last
monarch of a gigantic line
was found to possess "a bed
of iron," and when Saul was
made King he found his sub-
jects almost defenceless be-
cause the Philistines had
prohibited any smith from
plying his trade among the
conquered Israelites; "for the
Philistines said; 'lest the He-
brews make them swords or
spears.' ':
Therefore when Saul led
out his untried militia to
fight the Philistines, he
marshalled a horde armed only with the
iron shares and coulters of their plows,
men, who had no such resources to supply
them with implements of war.
NORSE CHIEFS FORGING SPEAR-HEAD
Therefore the theory that the use of
bronze for cutting tools and weapons
axes and bill-hooks, pitchforks and iron- preceded that of iron, as is generally held,
tipped ox-goads of an unwarlike and
tributary people. Among all their hosts,
may, I think, be reasonably questioned.
Where ore, rich in soft pure iron, abounded,
it is written, only Saul, himself, and his it would be much easier to discover, smelt
son Jonathan had armor and weapons. and hammer it into shape than to mine,
So, in later years did Nebuchadnezzar smelt, alloy and mould or forge the copper
"carry away all the craftsmen and smiths" and tin alloy, which was used by so many
when he depopulated Jude'a, and Lars
Porsenna of Clusium, after the expulsion
ancient peoples. Pure native copper is
easily beaten into shape, and if patiently
of the Tarquin tyrants stipulated that cold-hammered becomes harder and will
236
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
take an edge, but it is no easier to do this
than to work pure meteoric iron, which
it is said the ancients first used.
Under the Pharaohs, meteoric iron was
known as bad-empe, "heavenly metal," and
common iron as ba-nu-ta or "terrestrial
metal." Iron pots, etc., were brought to
Thothmes as tribute from his Syrian and
Phoenician conquests, and Assyrian mer-
chants brought iron wares in trade from
a very early period. By the seventh cen-
tury before Christ the Egyptians generally
IRON AND STEEL KEYS
Fourteenth, Fifteenth, Sixteenth, Seventeenth, Eighteenth Centuries
used iron weapons, and when the Carians
and lonians invaded Egypt, using weapons
of bronze, the messenger who carried the
tidings to Psamrnetichus, told him as a
remarkable circumstance, that bands armed
with bronze had landed and were ravaging
the country.
Anciently and probably before the time
of Homer, the Chalybes, dwelling on the
shores of the Euxine, had gained a reputa-
tion as skilful iron workers, and in the
fourth century, B. C., their iron made at
Sinope was prized for smith's and car-
penter's tools; that of Laconia for files,
iron drills, stamps and mason's chisels and
hammers; and that of Lydia for files,
knives, razors and sword-blades. On the
whole it is probable that iron and steel
arms, etc., were owned by the wealthy
and powerful, twelve to fourteen centuries
B. C., and became more and more plenti-
ful in those states which cultivated litera-
ture, the arts and commerce, while other
sections remained almost ignorant of its
value and special uses.
The Romans were for centuries armed
with bronze weapons, and later had much
difficulty in securing good steel swords,
but at last in the second Punic War, about
B. C. 200, adopted the Spanish swords
forged originally by their Phoenician
enemies and learned the secret of their
manufacture and tempering. The Gauls
of northern France, according to Caesar's
Commentaries, had large iron mines,
fastened their ships with iron nails and
bolts, equipped them with chain cables,
and did considerable heavy work in iron.
In Great Britain iron was
worked long before Julius Cae-
sar began his conquests, and
the chariots of war whose axles
were set with scythe-blades and
whose warrior -drivers fought
both from their iron-strength-
ened wagons and on foot, at
first gave his boldest legions
heavy losses and humiliating
defeats. Cassivilaunus, the
British leader, mustered to
oppose Caesar's landing thou-
sands of these chariots — be-
sides light cavalry and a vast
army of men who fought on
foot, many of whom appear
to have worn their swords in scabbards
hung at shoulder belts of linked metals.
But the smith dealt not only with
weapons and armor, but all other kinds
of "graith" to use an old Scotch expres-
sion. Next in importance in ages when
war and hunting were to a great extent
the principal avocation of the higher
classes and their free auxiliaries were the
shoeing and care of horses, the fittings and
fastenings of ships and buildings; the
steel beaks of war-galley and battering
ram, the massive pivots and fittings of
catapult and petrary, and later the forging
of built-up cannon, all the work of the
blacksmith. So too were spits, iron
spoons, cranes and trammels for the
kitchen; irons and murderous instru-
ments of torture for the dungeon; curious-
ly wrought hinges, bolts and staples;
great locks and massive keys for church
and castle, the chains and winches, the
grated portcullis and the massive pivots
and braces of the drawbridge gate that
spanned the moat of every embattled
tower and town.
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
237
Then the surgeon's saw, lancet, scalpel,
needles, chafing iron and pestle; the tools
of every trade, the axe, spade, fork, bill-hook
and hoe, were all to be made by hand
forging, beside innumerable iron rivets
and nails of every size and kind. No won-
der that the Druids were able to enshrine
their art within a halo of religious awe
and mysticism, or that the charm of the
craft still gathers young and old to watch
the steady sway of the bellows, the lurid
glow of the forge fire, the brawny, grimy
smith with corded muscular bare arms
and leathern apron; the breaking out of
the glowing iron, the showers of red and
white sparks, the tremendous swing of
the sledges, the rapid rhythmical play of
the forehammer, and all the din and hissing
of beaten and tempered iron and steel,
as they rapidly take shape and propor-
tion, to serve some human need.
Truly has Longfellow sung in his im-
mortal Acadian legend, "Evangeline":
"Since the birth of time, throughout all ages
and nations
*Has the craft of the smith been held in
repute of the people."
In describing Basil the blacksmith,
"who was a mighty man in the village
and honored of all men," he drew a picture
of scenes that few of us will fail to remem-
ber as exercising a strange fascination over
our eyes and imagination in childhood.
Who has not at the forge of some stal-
wart "son of Vulcan the Hammerer"
"Stood with wondering eyes to behold
him
Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse
as a plaything,
Nailing the shoe in its place; while near him
the tire of the cart wheel
Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle
of cinders,
Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the
gathering darkness
Bursting with light seemed the smithy through
every cranny and crevice,
Warm by the forge within they watched the
laboring bellows."
The few, simple tools. of the smith have
differed only in convenience and finish
since the earliest rude sculptures depicted
the ancient craftsman at his work. The
simple forge, anvil, pincers and hammer
were much the same in every age, which
had got beyond the use of a stone-hammer
beating heated iron laid on a solid boulder.
The bellows of the Egyptian smith were
worked in pairs by a man who trod alter-
nately on two goatskin bags, which he
inflated by removing his weight, and
pulling them up by cords held in either
hand. Sometimes two bellows-men were
employed and four wind-bags played
alternately on the glowing charcoal.
Up to a very recent date, crude methods
of smelting iron were still a part of the
work of the smith in some obscure parts
of Europe. A pit dug in the earth and
lined with stones and clay was heated
by a charcoal fire upon which a layer* of
the purest and richest iron ore was laid, and
over these other layers of charcoal and
ore were built up until the rude furnace
was full. When 'the charcoal was burned
out pieces of more or less malleable iron
were found in the ashes. The Romans in
Great Britain had extensive iron works
at Epiacum, now Lancaster, in the county
of Chester, and secured a novel "blast" by
making two funnels through a hill, wide
at the opening and joining in a narrow
tuyere or pipe. Their mouths opened
toward the west from which the wind
blew with great violence and condensing its
force in these funnel-shaped tunnels, gave
the Romans a very powerful blast furnace.
Without the resources of modern art,
the smiths of the past created beautiful
and ingenious things, which are still the
wonder and admiration of modern crafts-
men. Many of them were indeed artists,
for they loved their calling, were proud
of their skill, and conceived in their minds
things of beauty and use which were
indeed and in truth their own creations.
Welland or Memming, a mythical sword-
maker of Norse antiquity, is said to have
spent months in making his sword "Mim-
ung," with which at his first trial he
severed a thread of wool floating on the
water. Dissatisfied, he reforged and re-
tempered the blade, until he could sever
a handful of wool thus floating. A third
time he destroyed the blade and with
even greater patience tempered and finished
it, until at the third trial he shore through
a whole bale of wool thus floating. Mean-
while Amilias, a rival smith, had forged a
magnificent suit of armor, which he con-
sidered impenetrable to any mortal
weapon. Putting on helmet, mail byrnie,
238
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
and breastplate, he sat down upon a stool
and challenged Welland to try his weapon.
Welland drew "Mimung" from his sheath,
and struck once and no more. Amilias sat
unmoved, and Welland asked him how he
felt. Amilias answered, "I felt as if cold
water had passed through my bowels."
"Shake thyself, Amilias," said Welland
grimly, whereupon Amilias obeyed, and
fell dead, cut in twain by Mimung.
An English traveler relates that he saw
a native soldier cut in two a skein of floss-
silk, thrown into the air by a companion,
with his home-made tulwar; a feat due not
only to the quality and keenness of the
blade, but to the peculiar drawing sleight
with which the Eastern swordsman finishes
his cutting stroke.
I Some very heavy work was done by
the gigantic hammerman of the past. It
is said that "Mons Meg," the great built-
up cannon, long shown on the ramparts
of Edinburg Castle, was made by a Scottish
blacksmith and his five sons, to aid the
FRENCH BLACKSMITH SHOP, 1750
royal forces to batter down the gates of
Thrave, the stronghold of the rebellious
Douglasses.
Undoubtedly the ancient §mith worked
on articles of lead, bronze, silver and gold,
often using the hammer to cold-draw the
crude metal, and skilfully burning out
impurities. Sir Francis Chantrey, after
many essays and experiments, found that
sixteen parts of copper with two and one-
half parts each of tin and zinc produced
a bronze, which when cast into an axe
head or sword-blade, and hammered
lightly and for a long space of time, took
a keen cutting edge, which, however, soon
became dulled and useless.
The Norse Saga of King Olaf Tryg-
geveson, tells how in his last great sea-
fight his men on the "Long Serpent" com-
plained that their swords were dulled by
long-continued sword-play, and that King
Olaf himself opened his arm chests, and
gave out new swords to his wearied men-
at-arms.
Iron swords, also hardened by repeated
hammering, were in use long before this
period, and a poor quality of steel was of
course frequently met with.
The Norse smith, even when not of
noble birth, was a freeman, and among
the Welsh smiths were numbered among the
high officials of prince and king. Especially
was this the case when men began to shoe
their horses with iron, and the knights in
battle or tourney fared badly if his destrier
lacked well-calked shoes, solidly fastened
with large headed nails, which prevented
slipping and took a strong hold on turf
and highway. The Celtic
(Welsh) smith of the King
was especially favored, but
equally bound to perform his
duties, including the shoeing
of the King's horse. "His
seat in the palace is on the
end of the bench, near the
priest of the household."
No son of a "villein" or serf
could learn the arts of a
scholar, smith or bard, except
by the permission of his lord,
or practice them except as a
scholar in holy orders.
The list of tools of a Welsh
smith in A.D. 876, were valued
at six score pence, and included: "The large
anvil, sixty pence; the brick-orne anvil,
twelve pence; the bellows, eight pence; the
smith's pincers, four pence; the smith's
sledge, four pence; the paring-knife, four
pence; a bore (or punch), four pence; a
groover, four pen.ce; a vise, four pence;
a hoof-rasp, four-pence."
In South Wales, if a talog (serf or vil-
lein) taught his son scholarship, smith-
craft or bardism without the permission
of his lord, and the lord did not interfere
before the scholar received the tonsure
of the priest, or the smith entered his own
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
239
smithy; or the bard was recognized as
graduated in song; the lord could no
longer enslave him, for the smith must be
a free man.
Much of the honor thus given to the
smiths resulted from the mythological
accounts of the way in which the gods,
the dwarfs and the giants of a remote
antiquity bestowed their skill and knowl-
edge of the art upon men. In Wales
especially, where Druidism long existed
after its extinction in England, this spell
long continued to impress popular opinion
and public law. Druidism, at its height
about B. C. 500, continually gave its
acolytes lessons in working metals, in the
study of the anatomy of the horses slain
for sacrifice, and in the best method of
shoeing their hoofs, and ^curing their
diseases, and a modern writer, in discussing
their claims to be considered first in the
art of horse-shoeing, says:
"When we also look at the rational form
they gave their work — how wisely they
placed the nail-holes, and how skill-
fully they made the nail-heads to form so
many catches to assist traveling in rocky
and mountainous regions — one cannot but
be astonished at the perfection which the
sacred smiths had attained in defending
and assisting nature, two thousand years
ago."
Yet the Druids, like too many other
ancient mystics and scientists, were coldly
cruel in their . search for knowledge and
their worship of the gods, and, not to
speak of the wholesale sacrifices of living
men by burning them, it is said that one
of them, Herophilus, "read lectures on
the bodies of more than seven hundred
living men, to show therein the secrets
and wonders of the human fabric."
The blacksmith has not always been
exempt from priestly malediction. An-
cient Alauna, now Alcester, in Warwick-
shire, was at an early period famed for
its iron works, and Saint Egwin found its
people an arrogant, pleasure-loving breed
of lusty blacksmiths, who, when he preached
to them, to save them from perdition,
thumped so heavily upon their anvils,
that neither he nor anyone else could
hear his discourse. Wherefore, after hav-
ing vainly sought a hearing of men, he
called down the vengeance of heaven on
the offending town and its blacksmiths,
with such success that it was suddenly
laid in ruins, and no ringing of hammer
or anvil was thereafter heard for years.
But other saints seem to have had a
great respect for the craft. Saint Columba
of "lona's tholy fane," (A. D. 600) tells
of one "Coilriginus the smith," who dwelt
in the heart of Ireland, and dying in the
odor of sanctity was seen by a holy man,
as his spirit was borne heavenward by
angels. Wherefore St. Columba said to
MEDIEVAL SMITHY
his assembled priests, "Columbus Coil-
riginus, the smith, hath not labored in
vain, for he hath reached eternal happi-
ness and life by the work of his hands;
and now his soul is borne by angels to
the celestial country. For whatsoever
he acquired by the practice of his trade
he spent in works of charity." He is
probably named (June 7), in the calendars
of Celtic Saints Colum-Zoba (Colum the
Smith). St. Patrick (third century), had
three smiths among his assistants, who
duly appear in the same calendar. Saint
Dega, Bishop of Inniskeen, Monaghan
County, Ireland, derived his name Dayg
(a great flame) from his employment in
making articles of gold, silver, brass and
iron for the service of the church. His
day is August 18. Abbot Eastwin of
Wearmouth, England, was a skilful smith.
240
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
St. Dunstan, famed for his learning and
especially for his skill in metal working,
is said, when tempted of Satan, to have
seized the foul fiend by the nose with his
red-hot tongs and held him until he was
glad enough to be released and leave
St. Dunstan to his prayers and black-
smithing.
But the patron-saint of the craft ap-
pears to have been St. Eloi or Eloy, who
lived in France in the reign of Clotaire II,
in the seventh century, being accounted
the patron of the horse-shoer in nearly
every country of Europe.
In Abyssinia the blacksmiths are styled
"Boudak" sorcerers, and are popularly
believed to have the power to change
themselves into hyenas, and in Hedjayz
they are also social outcasts. But among
IRON WROUGHT COFFER
Fifteenth Century
the Arabs they are held in high honor,
and the tribal smith lives in a special
tent, called "the master's Donar," pays
no contributions, has his share of grain
gratis and need not offer hospitality to
anyone. Every tent makes him an allow-
ance of wheat, barley and butter; he has
the fleece of one ewe every spring, and
when a camel is killed his part of the
animal is assigned him as is his share of
all plunder. In battle, if unarmed and
in danger, he dismounts, kneels and imi-
tates with his robe the plying of a bellows,
and no enemy will injure him. Such a deed
is considered infamous. If the tribe is
plundered, the farrier can go to the enemy's
camp, and on proving his calling get back
his tent, tools, utensils and horse shoes.
A name by no means uncommon and
used in France and Germany to distin-
guish an officer who has charge of horses,
is variously spelled Mareschal, Marechale
and Marshal. It is said to be derived
from Teutonic words March, horse, and
scale, a servant.
Originally a mere groom, the office
became an important one at court, and
later still more important in a cavalry
which was chiefly made up of the highest
and noblest dignitaries and knights of
the kingdom. Nevertheless, for many
years the Mareschal shod the king's
horses with his own hands, sometimes with
shoes of silver, and as the king had to
pay his cavaliers for all horses lost in
his service, the Mareschal was bound to
assess their value.
Thus noble French families include the
Laferrieres and Ferrieres of Normandy,
whose coats of arms are still emblazoned
with eight horse shoes in token of their
origin. In England, Walter Marshall,
seventh Earl of Pembroke (1246) had
for his seal a horse shoe encircling a nail.
At Bannockburn, June 25, 1318, the
English Knights, Anselm de Mareschal
and Thomas de Ferrers, were taken pris-
oners. The word still designates the horse-
shoer in France, but to distinguish the
humble craftsman from the dignitary, the
former is termed Mar'echal ferrant.
It is hardly necessary to say that the
prevalence of the surname Smith, is due
to the fact that the founders of a host of
English families were first distinguished
as John or William or Henry the smith.
Similar surnames arose from the various
specialties of the calling as silversmith,
goldsmith, whitesmith, locksmith, etc.
The care of horses' feet and shoeing them
naturally led to a certain amount of
medical and surgical treatment, and the
smith as farrier has as /et but partially
given up his veterinary practice in the
greater part of the civilized world. As
we have seen from this part of his work
the Smith family has its collateral branches
in the Ferrieres, Ferrers, Farriers, etc.,
while the King's blacksmith and groom
of the horse gives us the Mareschal,
Marechale and Marshall surnames.
The crude tools of the smith, re-en-
forced by rude drills, "swages," and finer
files and rasps, have created the finest and
best tempered metallic work that the
world has ever seen. Every new weapon,
utensil, machine, ornament, or scientific
appliance of wrought iron or steel has
UNSATISFIED
241
until the nineteenth century been labor-
iously shaped out with hammer and anvil,
finished with file and manual polishing.
The smith has been the creator of a
myriad of original articles which the
machine shops of today multiply. And
today the blacksmith is still a necessity,
still an inventor and designer, and still
the local veterinarian of many a village
and country-side. He no longer needs
to hammer out his shoes from bars of
iron and steel, or to keep a trio of rods
hot in the forge while he shapes out horse-
shoe nails; but he still has to study the
hoof of each steed, and fit horse and shoe,
so that the good steed may not come to
harm. There are new problems to work
out, new conveniences to be contrived,
special jobs, big and little, to be done;
so the smith of today need not lead a
monotonous working life, unless he chooses
to do so.
The sameness of modern machine-made
articles has created a demand for hand-
made metal work, which need not, as it
too largely is, be met by imported European
and Asiatic goods. There are already
American smiths who have recognized
this demand, and begun to satisfy it, not
only with copies of antique and foreign
iron works, but with designs which draw
their inspiration and beauty from Ameri-
can motifs. No man need believe
that his grimy forge cannot be illumined
by the pursuit of art, and the love
of beauty as reproduced in enduring
metal.
From far less comfortable and con-
venient forges than the American smith
enjoys, myriad^ of costly articles have
come to take an honored place in luxurious
salons and magnificent palaces, and from
like surroundings American and English,
French, German, Italian and German
artisans have sent the arms and armor
that have made and unmade the kingdoms
of Europe, and the inventions which
control the world.
UNSATISFIED
An old farmhouse, with meadows wide,
And sweet with clover on either side;
A bright-eyed boy, who looks from out
The door, with woodbine wreathed about,
And wishes this one thought all the day:
"Oh, if I could but fly away
From this dull spot, the world to see,
How happy, O how happy,
How happy I would be."
Amid the city's constant din
A man who 'round the world has been;
Who, 'mid the tumult and the throng,
Is thinking, thinking all day long:
"Oh, could I only tread once more
The field-path to the farmhouse door,
The old, green meadows could I see,
How happy, O how happy,
How happy I would be."
—From "Heart Throbs."
anti panbello
By JOHN McGOVERN AND JESSE EDSON HALL
IF we go to some great book-collector he
* may generously show us three quarto
(large square) volumes * in Italian, and
one octavo (ordinary book-size) volume,
also in Italian, the four completing a full
set of the first edition of the Novels of
Bandello. Such a set is rare, and com-
manded $125 as early as the beginning
of the nineteenth century. The three
quartos were printed at Lucca, in 1554;
the octavo at Lione, in 1573.
But for the existence of these oddly-
assorted books there would have been no
Hamlet in the cultivated universal human
imagination; there would have been no
Romeo in the realm of Love. And there is
more of interest in this matter.
When the Italian volumes reached
Paris, they engaged the attention of Pierre
Boistaiau, an accomplished French writer,
who amplified the story of Romeo. (Ban-
dello had taken it from Luiga da Porto,
of Vincenza, the original author, so far
as known.) Having finished Romeo, and
other tales, and while proceeding with the
work of translation, Boistaiau died. His
continuator in the translation was
Francois Belleforest, by no means so good
a scholar, and in his portion lay the story
of Hamlet. Bandello had taken that from
the Latin tale by Saxo-Grammaticus, the
Dane.
These French volumes of Boistaiau and
Belleforest went on to London, where
Romeo was made into a poem in English,
by Arthur Broke, *and into prose by
Paynter, forming a part of his "Palace of
Pleasure."
Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" fol-
lows the poem of Broke and the French
adaptation. All forms — Italian, French
and English — were in existence when
Shakespeare was in his cradle.
Now there was born at London, some
eight years before the birth of Shakespeare,
one Thomas Kyd, who became an elegant
scholar and the author of the most popular
drama of his own and Shakespeare's time,
"The Spanish Tragedy." Kyd read the
French bgoks carefully, as is proved by his
own works.
There was also in existence, when
Shakespeare was young, a drama of
Romeo. It is almost certain that there was
a bad drama of "Hamlet," in which the
Ghost, in' a mask, chased Hamlet, crying
for revenge. It is not considered to be a
bad guess that Kyd wrote the old "Ham-
let"; he may also have been the author of
the old "Romeo."
Plays, in those days, were prepared for
the actors by being written on large cards,
the principal "parts" occupying cards by
themselves. Kyd and Shakespeare may
have collaborated, or Shakespeare may
have copied a set of Kyd's cards, or "sides,"
as they were and are sometimes called.
If the bard of Avon did this, the product
would be a Shakespearian play.
In our opinion, this route of investiga-
tion promises ample rewards in the future.
Both "Romeo" and "Hamlet" were
first licensed without the name of Shakes-
peare on the title-pages. The first Shakes-
pearian Romeo quarto, and the first
Shakespearian Hamlet quarto were both
wrought on afterward by their author,
Shakespeare, and enlarged one-third. This
seems very important.
The bitter Nash taunted Kyd with
translating Seneca's tragedies and thus
securing "whole Hamlets full — I should
say handfuls — of tragedy." Here we have
testimony that seems to us to form a
triple connection of Kyd, Seneca, and
Hamlet (as in the "Spanish Tragedy").
Thus the old Hamlet that Kyd may have
written would bear strong structural
resemblances (of prologue, prelude, en-
tertainment, Ghost, Fury, etc.) to the
"Spanish Tragedy."
William Shakespeare, so far as we know,
never laid the plot of a drama himself,
if he could find the work already done.
He would "shift the scenes" and alter
the names of characters, but he would
(242)
KYD AND BANDELLO
243
not give credit to original authors, nor
mention his contemporaries, as was often
done by dramatists.
We shall proceed on the theory that
Thomas Kyd, who certainly was familiar
with the French book, made a "Hamlet"
and a "Romeo"; or, that he worked with
Shakespeare (for Fuller mentioned them
together); or, that the mere copying by
Shakespeare of Kyd's cards would result
in a Shakespearian masterpiece. It is
important to consider that, in the signature
to Shakespeare's will, we have indubitable
evidence that Shakespeare was one of the
best clerks or copyists of his day. We feel
that he copied many sets of cards before
his name was attached to a drama.
In the story repeated by Bandello,
Romeo "fell in love with a young gentle-
woman of Verona," and "passed whole
days and nights in marvelous plaints and
lamentations." But, when he beheld
Juliet, he instantly transferred that great
passion to her. In the "Spanish Tragedy,"
by Kyd, Bellimperia, the heroine, was in
love with the slain Andrea. When Horatio
brings her the news of Andrea's death, she
instantly transfers her passion to Horatio.
Kyd has a Balthazar and a Don Pedro;
Bandello has a Balthazar and a Pietro.
Lorenzo is Kyd's villain; Friar Lawrence
is an important character in Shakespeare's
"Romeo."
In Shakespeare's "Hamlet," the name
Laertes is Greek; Claudius, Polonius ,
Cornelius, and Marcellus are Latin; Ber-
nardo and Francisco are Spanish. None
of these names is in Bandello. Horatio
is from "Kyd's Spanish Tragedy."
Hieronimo and Andrea, (in Kyd) are of
Greek origin.
It is probable that the Danish story
by Saxo had been adapted as a drama into
some southern language before Shakes-
peare wrote "Hamlet." The present
names may be the ones Kyd used in the
hypothetical old "Hamlet."
Saxo's story of "Hamlet," which Ban-
dello reproduced, did not name Polonius
or Laertes. There is this remark: "Was
not this a crafty and subtle counselor?"
Now, in Homer's "Iliad," the crafty
counselor Ulysses is son of Laertes. In
Kyd, Hieronimo avenges the assassination
of a beloved son, (Horatio) and in Shakes-
peare's "Hamlet," the Prince (whose only
friend is Horatio) avenges the assassina-
tion of a dearly -beloved father.
This Kyd, who, in the "Spanish
Tragedy," evidently obtained his off-with-
the-old-love-and-on-with-the-new from the
story of Romeo, put more than a dozen
leading ideas into the "Spanish Tragedy"
that were not in Saxo or Bandello, and that
were copied into Shakespeare's "Hamlet."
This was shown in our work entitled VMy
Lord Hamlet" (NATIONAL MAGAZINE,
June-December, 1908). Less briefly, there
are in Kyd and not in Bandello:
1. A ghost who demands revenge.
2. A hero who desires suicide, but
must do vengeance.
3. A liero who affects to consider the
murder (to be avenged) a trivial thing.
4. He procrastinates and requires ad-
ditional proofs.
5. He is back from college, where he
became a playwright.
6. He writes a play and instructs the
actors.
7. There is a play-within-the-play.
8. There is a prelude.
9. There is a beloved Horatio.
10. There is a heroine who kills herself.
11. There is a female character who
goes mad and kills herself.
12. There is an aged man, with son
and daughter, who are leading characters.
In "Romeo," Shakespeare exhausted
the Love motif. In "Hamlet," he ex-
hausted the Revenge motif; yet, even
with Love omitted, "Hamlet" dragged.
We believe that Shakespeare then ad-
vanced, with Claudius and Gertrude, to
the Faustus motif in "Macbeth," and
dealt neatly and unimpeded with the
crime itself, securing in "Macbeth" the
best drama ever written. We of the au-
dience know, dramatically, why Macbeth
leaps into the hell-mouth of his Con-
science. We have seen him sell his soul
to the devil. We can almost see him
murder Duncan. ,
Old Henslowe frugally jotted down the
expense of his hell-mouth into which
Faustus must leap — but Shakespeare retro-
formed that hideous and noisome quantity
of matter into mind (its primal element).
No need of concrete and objective symbols
exists in "Macbeth."
244 KYD AND BANDELLO
Next, the play of "Othello" is a perfect Shakespeare, our race first sees the Devil,
treatment of the Serpent motif — lago The evolution of the Faustus myth out
being the greatest devil yet described. of its progenitive Serpent, Owl, and Fury
And, in all these works, Shakespeare motives, is apparent in "Macbeth," by
humanized his myths more and more, the aid of archeological research. The
At last, in "Othello," he abandoned the pure Serpent motif, as humanized in lago,
final vestige of the classic machinery offers the conclusion of a series — "Romeo,"
formerly necessary to such themes. Hamlet "Hamlet," "Macbeth," and lago. In
is the most human Hero and Avenger; this entire series the hand of Kyd, in laying
the play of "Macbeth" is nearly divested dramatic foundations, is certainly to be
of all objective supernaturalism — for, if seen. The history of serpent worship
Banquo did not also see the Witches, all with its derivations, and the evolution of
the rest could operate within the dis- the human Conscience as perfected by
ordered mind of Macbeth. lago is human William Shakespeare in "Macbeth," we
all the time, and he is the sole miracle, hope to show in papers now in course of
In him, through the genius of William preparation.
NOTE. — William Shakespeare, the chief master of the English language, evokes also
the enthusiasm of great writers in all other tongues. His works have been successfully trans-
lated into German, and English is itself increasingly spoken all over the earth. He seems
to have had no adequate pride in his literary gifts, and left only two poems as certain monu-
ments of his personal interest in his own works. He sold all his plays as if they were mere
properties of the playhouse, '"Macbeth" appearing to be no more significant or valuable
than "Love1 s Labor' s Lost."
It is a human characteristic to worship what cannot be equaled, and to seek steadfastly
for knowledge regarding the career of the one who has excited that regard. We know but
little about Shakespeare, but with each decade we learn more. A s our race advances further
into art and into psychic feeling, a wider field for material of Shakespearian study comes
into view. We move toward Shakespeare — become more fit to catch his meaning. We erect
conventional staging beneath the vast structure of his genius, and from newly-devised coigns
of vantage gain a more correct understanding of the fact that he wrote "not for a day but for
all time" Thus, as the nightly heavens are the more beautiful because of the presence of
the smaller stars that also sparkle in Vega's court or in. LigeVs house-of-the-giant, so poets
and dramatists who wrought for or with Shakespeare, by their writings throw the greater
interest and even the greater effulgence on his name. The more we shall learn of many of
these contemporaneous artists, the more we shall finally espy to admire in the incomparable
art of William Shakespeare.
THE MULETEER
ALOFT, his vision o'er the desert runs
With love for it and hate for what it holds, —
Across the sands, burnt with relentless suns,
Another caravan than Lis unfolds.
But yesterday his voice was on the plain;
A king of wide dominion was he then;—
Today he is usurped of his domain,
And stronger teams respond to lesser men.
— Henry Dumont, in "A Golden Fancy"
RUM COVE
By GERTRUDE ROBINSON
HEM TUCKER swaggered down to
the shore and looked off inquir-
ingly in the direction of Fowler's
Point. The fish hawk's nest in
the herring weir below the Point showed a
black blur between the green blue of the
Sheepscot and the steel blue of the sky.
Above Oven's Mouth, directly across from
the Cove, a few white gulls were darting
expectantly about. Satisfied with his in-
spection, Lem turned his gaze down the
river. The Narrows gleamed in the twilight,
a crooked ribbon of foam-stained green.
"See anything, Lem?" called an anxious
voice from the upper side of the Cove.
"No," bellowed Lem, "we'll eat and then
turn in. No Britisher could make the
Cockles tonight against this wind and tide.
It runs out like a sluice,"
By this time Lem had joined the party of
four men crouched about the pine knot fire
sizzling away in the shelter of a huge rock
on the south bend of the little bay.
"Let it burn,'' he grumbled as he bent
over the enormous black kettle suspended
above the flames, "that ox -quarter needs a
blaze. Nobody'll get up river to see the fire
tonight."
"Lem is more anxious to tackle the jugs
down there under the skiff than a Britisher,
I'll warrant," observed Jabez Newell.
Lem, grinning in assent, piled stout oak
junks on the blaze. "Confound it," he
roared suddenly, as though incensed at the
recollection, "that scoundrelly Blythe of the
Boxer crept up river three nights ago when
the Shaws and the Plunketts were watching
and cut four masts of Sweet Auburn pine,
trimmed them, and got away with them, ten
miles south of the Cockles by daybreak!"
"Where was Wendell of the Fox?" queried
Job Tucker.
"Cruising down by the west side of the
Cockles, waiting to trap the Boxer. He let
Blythe slip by out him on the east side
and never knew he'd been in till next
morning "
A shrill cry sounded from the Cross, around
which the water was boiling in the November
"Hist!" gasped Jabez Newell.
Lemuel struck him a resounding whack
on the back, crying "Brace up, Newell,
there's naught out there but a couple of
storm gulls hunting their Thanksgiving
dinner. If you fellows will keep your nerve
we'll have Blythe a prisoner and the 'Boxer*
manned by a Maine crew before 1812 is over;
but we arn't watching here to catch spooks
and night hawks."
Jeth Watts, parceling out wooden plates
from the hamper at his side, laughed up-
roariously, "Here, sonny," he chuckled to
young Abiel Wood as he doled him a great
chunk of the stewed ox-quarter and handed
him a foaming mug of beer, "we're all ready
to drink to the Yankee captain of the 'Boxer.' "
"Beats all how hungry a fellow gets this
weather," observed Jabez, and then let his
pewter mug fall with a clatter on the rock at
his side.
The faint, quavering cry that had startled
Jabez again sounded, but from another
direction.
"That ain't no sea gull," muttered Jeth
Watts, putting down his plate and mug em-
phatically.
-"It ain't anything larger," snarled Lemuel,
and if you fellows want to eat Thanksgiving
dinner tomorrow with cracked heads, just
keep on yarning! I tell you no ship, not
even Blythe's * Boxer,' could beat up the
Narrows tonight, and — "
"Whizz" went a bullet by his head; and
"piff" went another straight into the kettle
of boiling beef. And then before anyone
could have loaded a gun to say nothing of
finding one in the dark, four stottt men were
stretched on their backs, bound, and tossed
one side, while ten burly British seamen
from the "Boxer" crew, after making a brief
survey of the woods and shore, waxed merry
over the cauldron of meat and keg of beer.
As they toasted their soaked feet by the
246
RUM COVE
crackling fire and quaffed the mugs of beer,
poured for others to drink, they joked their
prisoners jovially.
"No Britisher could come up the river
tonight! Well, perhaps Captain Blythe may
be able to take four Yankees down river when
he gets back from cutting two more masts
of Sweet Auburn pine and burning Sackett's
Mill below Wiscassett," quoth one.
Four Yankees! Lemuel suddenly became
alert. Sure enough, but four forms were
stretched out at his side. The boy Abiel
was not to be seen. But under the far side
of the rock groped a dark shadow. It moved
slightly. Lemuel rolled a little nearer Jabez
and nudged him. Jabez nudged back un-
derstandingly.
"Now that we're caught and out of the
game I don't suppose you fellows would mind
telling us how it was done," asked Jeth
Watts suddenly. The leader of the red-
coats laughed. "Sure," he answered, "we're
glad to give a Yank a lesson. We tacked up
river with the tide last night and hid the
* Boxer' at the far end of Turtle Neck Cove,
above Fowler's Point. After dark this even-
ing we paddled across in skiffs and landed
above here a mile or two. After Blythe has
caught his Yankees napping at Sackett's
Mill he will come down river and pick us up.
You'll likely have plenty of company on the
'Boxer' in the morning."
"See that hole under the rock back there,"
cried one of the men. "I bet the Yankees
have something better than beer hidden in it."
"No," said Lemuel, "you have told me
something. Now I'll tell you a thing or two.
Down in that brush by the shore is an over-
turned skiff and under it are two jugs of
good West India rum."
The two men who had started to explore
the region back of the boulder veered off
to the shore. In the noise that they made
crashing through the stiff underbrush nobody
noticed a slight crackling in the thicket at the
left. Only Lemuel saw with satisfaction that
the shadow under the rock was not so heavy.
"What^id you tell them about the rum
for?" demanded Job Tucker of his brother,
wrathfully.
Lemuel did not answer. He was listening
intently to an owl hoot in the trees at the left
and slightly to the north. He had himself
taught Abiel that long-drawn, quavering,
true-to-nature note.
Lemuel chuckled as he watched the men
about the fire settling down to their jugs of
rum. They were already half stupefied from
the beer and the heat.
"It seems to amuse you to have the British-
ers getting our good rum," grumbled Jabez.
"There wasn't any need of telling them about
it. We're trapped cleverly enough without
losing that."
Lemuel chuckled again for answer as he
saw the jugs passing. One by one, heavy
with sleep and drink, he saw his captors wrap
themselves in their great coats and stretch
out „ comfortably. Indeed, what need of
watching with prisoners securely bound, the
"Boxer" to pick them up at daybreak, before
any alarm could possibly be given, and
plenty of stolen Yankee rum for a nightcap!
Two hours dragged by. Another owl hoot
was heard, this time from the north and at
a distance. Lemuel looked cautiously about.
His companions were twisting uneasily, too
uncomfortable and too angry to sleep. But
the group by the fire were snoring loudly in
drunken ease. He answered in a long, trem-
ulous cry.
Ten minutes later a single dark figure
emerged from the woods. Silently, without
the crackling of a branch, it slipped from
one to one of the prostrate figures, cutting
their bonds. They rose to their feet and
saw with amazement that their liberator was
not young Abiel, but wizened, crazy Indian
Joe, whose hut back of Fowler's Point had
been burned by the British on the occasion
of the last sally of the "Boxer" up the Sheep-
scot. He threw a pile of ropes and cordage
at their feet, picked up the half emptied jug
of rum by the fire, and stalked away into
the woods.
Ten minutes later the British were still
snoring comfortably, despite the fact that
each was bound and securely pinioned to his
neighbor.
There was not enough of the meat left to
satisfy four hungry men who had been robbed
of their supper; besides Lemuel and his com-
rades, though ordinarily brave, were not
anxious to encounter the crew of the "Boxer"
when she should stop in the morning to pick
up her men and their prisoners. So, in the
first gray of the dawn of Thanksgiving Day
they poured cold water in the faces of their
erstwhile conquerers, and without giving them
time to recover from their astonishment over
RUM COVE
247
the transference to them of the plight of the
Yankees the night before, started off through
the woods to the little inland settlement of
Sagadahock. They need not have been in
haste, however, for when Captain Ely the
went speeding down river a few hours later
he was too anxious to clear the Narrows,
before Captain Wendall of the "Fox" should
intercept him, to stop to even remember the
part of his crew supposed to be .waiting for
him at the Cove.
But it was not until Lemuel and his men
had eaten a hearty breakfast at Sagadahock,
and were loading their prisoners on heavy
ox-carts in order to carry them with expedi-
tion to the jail at Wiscasset that they learned
of other happenings of that eventful night.
There the young Abiel, riding down post
haste from Wiscasset with a troop of men at
his heels, encountered them.
Then they learned how the boy, after his
escape from the camp, had searched the shore
to the north until he found the skiffs left by
the ''Boxer's" men. Rowing one skiff and
towing the other, he had crossed the river
to Fowler's Point. There, as he had thought,
he found Indian Joe, lurking about the ruins
of his hut. It was an easy matter to bribe
him, with the promise of rum, to go to the
rescue of the Yankees, whom he regarded as
his friends. Abiel had given him a roll of
cordage found in one of the skiffs, had told
him the owl-hoot signal, and had started him
off in one of the boats. By that time the
tide had turned and Abiel made quick work
of paddling up the river in the other to gather
men from half the countryside. And though
the throng of woodsmen, fisherfolk and
farmers were not in time to prevent the burn-
ing of the mill, they had wounded or captured
eighteen of Blythe's men, had forced him to
leave uncut the masts of Sweet Auburn pine,
and to escape down river in ignominious haste.
It was a proud moment for Lemuel and
his companions when they escorted their
ten captives through .the streets of Wiscasset
on their way to the jail. The fame, not only
of Abiel's solitary expedition, but of the
happenings at what was to be known hence-
forth as Rum Cove, had spread in all direc-
tions. It was even a prouder moment than
when Lemuel was informed that he was to
be Captain of the company Wiscasset was
raising to go to the front to help keep the
British out of more important places than
Rum Cove.
A REVOLUTIONARY PUZZLE
These odd rhymes were written in the early part of the Revolutionary War — about 1776.
If read as written they are a tribute to the king and his army — but if read downward on either
side of the comma, they indicate an unmistakable spirit of rebellion to both king and parlia-
ment. The author is unknown.
"Hark, hark the trumpet sounds, the din of war's alarms
O'er seas and solid grounds, doth call us all to arms,
Who for King George doth stand, their honors soon shall shine,
Their ruin is at hand, who with the Congress join.
The Acts of Parliament, in them I much delight.
I hate their cursed intent, who for the Congress fight.
The Tories of the day, they are my daily toast,
They soon will sneak away, who independence boast,
Who non-resistant hold, they have my hand and heart,
May they for slaves be sold, who act the Whiggish part.
On Mansfield, North and Bute, may daily blessings pour
Confusion and dispute, on Congress evermore,
To North and British lord, may honors still be done,
I wish a block and cord, to General Washington."
jfuntramentate of taxation
By ]. W. ZUVER
""THE present system of taxation is anti-
* quated and old fashioned, compared with
other prevalent "get up and get" American
methods. To me there is but one practical
system in governmental affairs, as in business,
today — to deal with all alike. This is also
strictly in harmony with the fundamental prin-
ciples of the Republic. Then why not compel
every person to enumerate his own property,
assuming from the first that common honesty
exists among the American people?
All property not thus inventoried by the
owner, when discovered, should at once be-
come the property of the state. Such a system
would require federal legislation to insure
equitable adjustment. These laws would, of
course, have to be submitted to the various
states and territories as constitutional amend-
ments. The government should then, for com-
mon understanding, issue a list of all taxable
property. Federal action would prevent the
shifting of taxpayers from one state and town
to another, to evade taxation, once the system
became uniform — this would result in a more
just contribution of tax levies.
The government should issue the list of
taxable property from year to year as leviable,
requiring a statistical report sufficient to make
a complete census. The system of estimate
. for arriving at values would remain about
the same as at the present time. In order to
determine all taxable property, it would be
necessary to have a form reading as follows:
"I, A B., do affirm and swear that, at
twelve o'clock noon, on the first Monday in
May, I was not possessed of any property sub-
ject to taxation not herein enumerated."
Any taxable property found outside of this
enumeration should promptly, and without
recourse to legal procedure and red tape, be
made the property of the State. Every man,
twenty -one years of age or over, should pay a
tax on or before a certain date, or forfeit his
right to vote. The failure to pay a tax for five
years should permanently disfranchise any
citizen. This would awaken an interest in
wielding the sovereign power of citizenship.
Recent experience in the Custom House
frauds in New York indicates that people can
be made to feel the power of the law when they
have made a declaration that is not true, and
in their returns do not disclose the property
possessed. A provision could be made giving
to the person finding property not declared for
assessment a percentage of its value in return
for information given the government, as was
done in the sugar trust frauds. While this
system may be somewhat repellent to personal
pride, it would be effective in enforcing law
that has been found to work well elsewhere.
One important feature which might be
difficult to cover would be property held and
developed by individuals as a matter of civic
pride, rather than for self-interest. But under
such a law as the above there would be less
inducement to hold undeveloped city real es-
tate, or fine homes merely to outdistance rival
cities or towns.
Another difficulty would be to obtain com-
plete and definite information of the property
held by corporations, but the new income tax,
operated by the internal revenue, is a step in
this direction. The impossibility of legislating
. honesty into men is admitted; but the fear of
the law and confiscation will have a powerful
influence in compelling them to bear their full
share of taxation or suffer the consequences.
I expect to see the day when this idea in
some form will be taken up and supported
by progressive leaders in Washington. The
cause of most of our governmental troubles,
and of the complaints from the people, is the
inequitable distribution of the burdens im-
posed by taxation, and the equalization will
not come through socialism or any revolution-
ary propaganda, but will evolve through a
system of scientific taxation that spreads out
the burdens and takes away, by legal process,
the ill-gotten gains of any special line of get-
rich-quick money-making, and the^evasion of
taxation. What is sequestering property and
evading local taxation other than a most insidi-
ous form of smuggling? Confiscation would
be the only logical remedy for this, which
should be treated as is the other offence.
(248)
THE
MUSICAL SEASON
« IN AMERICA'
t>y Arthur B'.Wilson
OPERA in these United
States has gone the way of all
cosmic things. Competition be-
got combination, which presaged
elimination, which cleared the way for
concentration. Now, for the present hour
at least, there are manifest the outward
signs of peace, prosperity and goodwill as
long as operatic interests in these high
places are properly served, and as long as
the people will pay for the serving.
Not many years ago, the Metropolitan
opera company, which represented grand
opera in New York, and therefore in
America, was pursuing its course in dic-
tatorial ease unmolested and unafraid.
Then a daring man appeared. He pre-
sumed to build an opera house in New
York, to organize a company, to give
performances, and to charge five dollars
a seat for them. Perhaps he lost some
money. If so, he didn't say much about it.
He became the patron of the modern
French school in America. He introduced
operas by Debussy, Massenet and Char-
pentier. He likewise brought to New
York, to Philadelphia and to Boston
three artists of rare distinction — Maurice
Renaud, Mary Garden and Luisa Tetraz-
zini. He made every newspaper the official
organ of "Elektra," and he interested the
clergy vitally in "Salome."
He demonstrated that an opera house
could be run by one manager better than
by a pair of managers, a board of directors,
"advisory associates" and like embellish-
ments. He galvanized the opera business,
and gave to all things concerned with
opera a publicity hitherto unprecedented.
As a personality, he was picturesque,
pungent, dominating. As an executive,
he was astute, imperturbable, tireless.
For all of which he was bought out,
eliminated, banished, expunged and other-
wise gotten rid of, for a term of ten years,
as far as grand opera is concerned, from
the four cities which now reap his heritage
— Gotham, [Philadelphia, Boston and
Chicago. He may still play in Hoboken,
Pittsburg, the two Portlands, Kalamazoo
and Frisco.
He has determined to'pass some part of
his expatriation in London. To that end
he has let the contract for a new opera
house on the Kingsway. In this he will
spend his well-earned leisure, at least a
million and a half to start with, and begin
the operatic "education" of the six million
metropolitan Britons, many of whom have
never attended Covent Garden.
While Oscar Hammerstein's activities
for the present have been transferred to
British soil, the vigorous operatic stimulant
which he poured down the throat of the
general public in this country still con-
tinues to work.
People in general now want to know
what is going on in opera. Without
minimizing the insistence upon high ideals
which has in many particulars marked
the regime of Mr. Gatti-Cazassa and Mr.
Toscanini at the Metropolitan, this
general interest in lyric drama may be
traced in no small measure to the vigorous
and efficacious methods with which Mr.
Hammerstein produced opera in New
York and Philadelphia and made the
public aware of his doings.
The year books, particularly of the
Chicago company and indeed that of the
Boston company, give telling testimony
to the former existence of Mr. Hammer-
stein in opera.
The Chicago-Philadelphia organization,
in its list of singers and of producing
rights of operas, is in direct line of descent
from the Hammerstein companies, except
that its director, Andreas Dippel, came
from the Metropolitan.
The Boston company, Henry Russell,
director, traces its origin to another source.
When Mr. Russell visited Boston with
(249
250
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
his San Carlo troupe (at the Park theatre
in May and at the Majestic theatre in
December of 1907) Mr. Eben D. Jordan,
who had long been desirous that Boston
should have a permanent opera of its
own, believed that in director and princi-
pals he had found the nucleus of such an
institution. Ralph L. Flanders, general
manager of the New England Conserva-
tory, then lent his aid in like capacity to
perfecting the organization, and putting
it on a business basis. Frederick Converse,
the composer, and Robert Jordan, son of
the founder, enlisted the interest of social
Boston, and in spite of the delays in build-
ing incident to labor trouble, the new
theatre was opened on the appointed
day a year ago.
While the idea of a permanent opera
in Boston originated in the minds of Mr.
Jordan and Mr. Flanders, it is highly proba-
ble that the two visits of Mr. Hammer-
stein's Manhattan Company to that city
in the spring of 1908 and 1909 heightened
the interest and gave greater catholicity
to the taste of the public in opera.
His ensemble had an excellence hitherto
unknown in visiting companies. He
brought all of the novelties which he pro-
duced in New York and Philadelphia,
except "Sapho," "Herodiade" and "Sa-
lome"; the latter 's name, when breathed in
tentative announcement, precipitated the
prudent into passionate protest, and in-
spired the mayor to an exclusion act.
There was no appreciable objection to the
consideration of "Samson and Delilah," a
harmless tale in which a scarlet woman
brings to pitiable humiliation and dis-
grace a prophet of the Lord. Such is the
price of culture.
Nevertheless, Mr. Hammerstein had
the opportunity to do something for opera
in Boston, not the least of which was the
introduction of Debussy's incomparable
"Pelleas and Melisande" and of Mary
Garden's memorable portraiture of the
heroine, which bore the kinship of a thing
conceived and born with the music.
Boston profits now too in singers, some
of them resident members of the opera
there, some of them borrowed from
Chicago. Mr. Hammerstein's elimina-
tion is the occasion of an alliance between
the three impresarios, Mr. Gatti-Cazassa
of the Metropolitan, Mr. Russell of Boston
and Mr. Dippel of Chicago. A brief
survey of the plans of each for the season
may be timely. Mr. Gatti-Cazassa, now
made the sole director of the Metropolitan,
will open his season on November 14.
At this time of writing a revival of Gluck's
"Armide" is projected for that event.
During the season there will occur a
series of productions of operas for the first
time on any stage which henceforth will
give the Metropolitan unprecedented dis-
tinction as a lyric theatre
Three European composers will come
to New York to personally superintend
the initial productions of their operas,
on the stage of the Metropolitan, —
Puccini for his "The Girl of the Golden
West"; Paul Dukas, for his "Ariane and
Blue Beard," and Humperdinck for his
"King's Children." It was the intention
that the latter be done in English, and
Charles Henry Meltzer had completed a
considerable part of the English transla-
tion, but Mr. Gatti-Cazassa having deemed
it impossible to make an adequate produc-
tion in English has decided to perform the
opera in its original German.
Puccini's "The Girl of the Golden West,"
from Belasco's drama of the name, is
eagerly anticipated. The singers who will
create the roles of the opera are Emmy
Destinn, Caruso, Amato, Dinh Gilly
and Adamo Didur. The lamented Gilibert
was to have created a part which Puccini
wrote especially for him.
The preference by these composers for
the Metropolitan company over any Euro-
pean theatre as the auspices under which
to introduce their works is significant.
Nor is this all. Mascagni's new opera
"Ysobel," written for Bessie Abott, will
be produced at the New Theatre No-
vember 21, for the first time on any stage.
The composer will visit America to super-
intend preparations and is announced to
conduct all performances during the tour
which will follow. Mr. Tyler of Liebler
and Company, who are making the pro-
duction, assures an awaiting public that
he will have spent the sum of one hundred
thousand dollars before the curtain rises
upon the first performance.
Signer Mascagni's librettist is Luigi
Illica, who has collaborated with Puccini in
tFLORENCIO j CONSTANTINO
"TA favorite with audiences of the Boston Opera House
252
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
his "La Boheme," "Tosca," and "Madam
Butterfly."
He has based his plot on the legend of
Lady Godiva, who about the year 1043,
to gain from her lord, Leofric, Earl of
Mercia, Leicester, and Bourne, the re-
mission of a grievous tax upon the people
of Coventry, rode nude through the streets
by day from one end of the town to the
other. The tale is not unknown to litera-
ture. It has been celebrated by Roger of
Wendover, Michael Drayton, Sir William
Dugdale, Rapin de Throyas, John Milton,
Benjamin Poole, Richard Jago, Leigh
Hunt, Tennyson, Walter Savage Landor,
and no doubt by others. Bessie Abott,
an American girl and protege of Jean de
Reszke, will impersonate the heroine, who
in the opera will be the daughter and not
the wife of him who exacts tribute.
To reassure the super-sensitive, on the
one hand, and on the other, to temper the
disappointment of all unduly curious and
inquisitive persons, let it be reminded that
Mascagni has written a graceful, modest
but wholly innocuous intermezzo for the
orchestra, which will make the only por-
trayal of the ride of the beautiful Ysobel
not an ocular, but merely an aural vision.
Now to return to the more sober an-
nouncements of the Metroplitan. Puc-
cini's "Manon Lescaut," in which Caruso
and Mme. Cavalieri appeared four years
ago, will be revived. Other works on the
list of novelties are: Goldmark's "The
Cricket on the Hearth," Leone's one act
opera "L'Oracolo," Mascagni's "L'Amico
Fritz," Rossini's little opera "II Signer
Bruschino," Leo Blech's "Versiegelt" and
Wolff-Ferrari's "Le Donne Curiose."
Gounod's "Romeo and Juliet," unper-
formed at the Metropolitan for five years,
will be revived. Mme. Melba will be heard
in "La Boheme," "Rigoletto," "Otello"
and "La Traviata."
From Boston will be brought upon oc-
casion, Mme. Carmen-Melis, Lydia Lip-
kowska, Alice Nielsen, Robert Lassalle,
a new French tenor of the Boston company,
George Baklanoff, Florencio Constantino,
and Carlo Galeffi, a new baritone.
Among the new members of Mr. Russell's
Boston company are^Mme. Carmen-Melis,
last season one of Mr. Hammerstein's
sopranos, Lina Cavalieri, Maria Gay and
Mr. Zenatello. Requisition from Boston
will be made upon these singers of the
Metropolitan: Emmy Destinn, Geraldine
Farrar, Frances Alda, Marie Rappold,
Louise Homer, and Messrs. Caruso,
Burrian, Jadlowker, Slezak, Amato, Scotti,
Soomer De-Segurola and Pini-Corsi, in-
deed an able list.
Likewise the following from the Chicago
company will appear at some time during
the Boston season: Mary Garden, Mari-
ette Mazarin, Lillian Nordica, Marguerite
Sylva, and Messrs. Dalmores, McCormack,
Dufranne, Renaud and Sammarco.
Of the twenty-one operas in his repertory
of last year, Mr. Russell retains nineteen,
and announces thirteen more. Three are
Italian, "The Girl of the Golden West,"
"Otello," and Puccini's "Manon Lescaut."
Of the seven added French operas, two
will be performed for the first time in
America, Debussy's "L'Enfant Prodigue"
and Laparra's "Habanera."
There are to be two productions of
English operas, both by Mr. Converse.
One is "The Pipe of Desire," performed
in Boston by amateurs in January and
March, 1906, and at the Metropolitan,
the eighteenth of last March. The other
is Mr. Converse's new opera "The Sacri-
fice," which will be produced for the first
time on any stage. The composer has writ-
ten his own libretto. He places his plot
in picturesque southern California in 1846
before the westward rush for gold began.
Andre Caplet has been engaged at the
Boston house to direct the French operas.
He will conduct "Faust" November 14,
for his first appearance in this country.
He is, however, already known here
through his compositions for wind in-
struments. Georges Longy, the dis-
tinguished first oboe of the Boston Sym-
phony, and his wind choir have introduced
the Quintet, the Suite Persane and the
Legende at their concerts in Boston. The
Quintet will be played by the Barrere
Ensemble in New York this winter. Mr.
Caplet's "Impression of Autumn," an
elegy for saxophone and orchestra, has
been performed in Boston by Mrs. Richard
J. Hall, soloist, and the Boston_Orchestral
Club, Mr. Longy, conductor.
The season at the Boston Opera opened
November 7, with Boito's "Mefistofele"
GERALDINE FARRAR
Who will create the soprano role in the production of "Ariane et Barbe Bleue
Metropolitan Opera Company. Miss Farrar was soloist with the
Boston Symphony Orchestra last month
254
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
which was revived on an elaborate scale
last year. The novelty of the repetition
was the first appearance in America of
Leon Sibiriakoff , the Russian bass.
In Chicago, Mr. Dippel opened his sea-
son with "Aida" in the auditorium, which
has been reduced in its interior spaces to
better secure the intimacy of an opera
house. A list of his principal singers not
already mentioned in connection with the
other companies would include Johanna
Gadski, Jane Osborn-Hannah, formerly a
church and concert singer of Chicago,
Eleonora de Cisneros and Lillian Grenville,
a New York girl who has been singing at
Nice and the San Carlo in Naples.
From the Metropolitan will come Miss
Farrar and Messrs. Caruso, Slezak, Jad-
lowker and Scotti, and from Boston,
Carmen-Melis, Alice Nielsen, Lydia Lip-
kowska, Constantino and Baklanoff.
Mr. Dippel contemplates the first pro-
duction in this country of five works
which may arouse variable curiosity:
Richard Strauss' latest opera, "The Knight
of the Roses," "Suzanne's Secret," by
Wolff-Ferrari, Saint-Saens' "Henry VIII,"
Nougoues' "Quo Vadis," and Victor
Herbert's new grand opera, "Natoma."
Announcement is made that the latter
will be produced February 6, 1911, in
Philadelphia. The company will begin
its engagement in that city, Friday,
January 20, at the theatre built by Mr.
Hammerstein, now renamed "The Metro-
politan Opera House of Philadelphia."
The score of "Natoma" will be published
simultaneously by Schirmer in New York
and Schott of Mains, Germany.
"Suzanne's Secret" is designed for pro-
duction in Chicago if the French transla-
tion is ready in time. It is styled by the
composer an "intermezzo in one act."
Its story turns upon the passion of the
heroine for cigarettes. The odor of smoke
piques a jealous husband to the imagina-
tion of another man and intrigue. It is
said to be a fragile, tenuous piece better
suited to the intimacy of a small than the
spaces of a large theatre. Report comes
that this trifle enforced a marked innova-
tion at the Imperial Opera House, Vienna,
where it received its initial production.
Never before had real tobacco been burned
within the building's sacred precincts.
Wolff-Ferrari, the composer of "Su-
zanne's Secret," is known in America by
his setting of Dante's "The New Life."
It is a work of true inspiration and rare
beauty. It has been performed twice by
the Oratorio Society of New York, Frank
Damrosch, conductor (by them first time
in America) and twice by the Cecilia
Society of Boston, when under the direc-
tion of Wallace Goodrich.
In January, the Chicago Company will
give two series of five performances on
Tuesdays at the Metropolitan Opera
House, New York, which will be devoted
to French opera. In them Mary Garden
is announced to appear in "Carmen,"
(a new role for her in America), "Pelleas
and Melisande," "Louise," "Tales of
Hoffmann," and "Thais."
Anton Witek, who succeeds Willy Hess
this season as concert-master of the
Boston Symphony Orchestra, was born
at Saaz, Bohemia, January 7, 1872. He
studied at Prague. In 1894 he was ap-
pointed concert-master of the Phil-
harmonic orchestra of Berlin, which posi-
tion he held until the present year. Mr.
Witek has organized a trio in Boston.
The 'cellist is Alwyn Schroeder, who,
after an interim of seven years, resumes
the first chair of the 'cellos in the Boston
Symphony. The pianist is Kurt Fischer,
who came this season to the faculty of the
New England Conservatory, Boston, from
the Royal Conservatory at Sonderhausen.
Mr. Witek made his first appearance as
a soloist in this country at the fourth
public rehearsal and concert of the Boston
Symphony, October 28 and 29. He played
the Beethoven" concerto. Mr. Philip Hale
said: "Mr. Witek gave an uncommonly
fine performance of Beethoven's concerto.
He played with serene, not indifferent
composure, with respect for Beethoven and
the audience."
Francis Macmillen, the American violin-
ist, played at the symphony concerts
in Boston for the first time October 14
and 15. The other soloists to appear
are as follows: singers, Mme. Melba,
Geraldine Farrar, Emmy Destinn, Mme.
Jomelli, Mme. Kirby-Lunn; pianists,
Josef Hofmann, Carlo Buonamici, Fer-
ruccio Busoni; violinists, Mischa Elman
and Sylvain Noack, and 'cellist, Heinrich
A QUARTET OF OPERATIC STARS
Miss Emmy Destinn (Photo by Aime Dupont), Soprano of the Metropolitan Opera House
Leo Slezak (Photo copyright by Mishkin Studio) , Dramatic Tenor of the Metropolitan Opera House
Andre Caplet, the new French Conductor of the Boston Opera House
Arturo Toscanini (Photo by Aime Duponf) , the distinguished conductor of the Metropolitan Opera House
256
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
Warnke. Mr. Warnke shares with Mr.
Schroeder the first desk of the 'cellos in the
orchestra. Mr. Noack is second concert-
master.
The orchestra will make the usual five
monthly tours to New York, Brooklyn,
Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington,
and in January will give concerts in Pitts-
burg, Toledo, Detroit, Cleveland, Buffalo,
Syracuse and Troy.
At his first two concerts of the New
York Symphony Society, October 28 and
30 at the New Theatre, Walter Damrosch
introduced to America Felix Berber,
the German violinist. Mr. Berber is
thirty-nine years old. Hans von Buelow
influenced him toward a career in music,
although he evinced talent for painting.
His taste for the latter was still sufficiently
strong in 1885 to call him from music
study at the Leipzig Conservatory for
a year. He was made concert-master of
the Gewandhaus orchestra in 1898, and
first professor of the violin at the Royal
Academy of Music in Munich in 1904.
Two years later he became Marteau's
successor in the Conservatory of Geneva.
The New York Symphony Society will
give eight Friday afternoon concerts and
sixteen Sunday afternoon concerts at the
New Theatre, six Young People's Sym-
phony concerts on Saturday afternoons
at Carnegie Hall, and five concerts at the
Brooklyn Academy of Music. There
will also be concerts at Orange, Montclair,
Yonkers and two Western tours.
The novelties which Mr. Damrosch
will play during the coming season are:
"Symphonic Waltz" by Mr. Stock, con-
ductor of the Theodore Thomas Orchestra,
Chicago; Debussy's "Iberia," one of
three compositions in his new suite
"Images"; a symphony by Henry Rabaud,
now a conductor of the Opera at Paris;
a Rondo and Rhapsody of "Joyous
Wanderings," by Hugo Kaun; a "Chamber
Symphony" by Paul Juon, and the Third
Symphony of Henry Hadley, to be con-
ducted by the composer. Mr. Hadley
is conductor of the Seattle Symphony
Orchestra.
At the concerts of October 28 and 30
at the New Theatre, Mr. Damrosd j played
for the first time in America Delius1
English Rhapsody, "Briggs Fair." His
novelties November 6 were a Symphonic
Poem by the Englishman Wallace, and
Saint-Saens' March, "Occident and
Orient."
Arnold Volpe, conductor of the Volpe
Symphony Orchestra, will make composi-
tions by Americans the feature of his
season of concerts in New York. He will
play Edgar Stillman-Kelly's "Macbeth,"
and Arthur Farwell's "The Domain of
Hurakan" (both in manuscript), for the
first time at any concert. Henry Hadley's
"In Bohemia," and MacDowell's "Indian
Suite" are also announced.
In Boston, Mr. Longy has selected for
performance by the club of wind instru-
ment players that bears his name, a list
of French pieces in which novelties are
named from Woollett, Moreau, Dukas,
Debussy, Dvorak and Reuschel. A sere-
nade in B flat by Mozart is to be played,
which is rarely performed through its de-
mand for two basset horns. The basset
horn is an instrument resembling the low
register of the clarinet in tone, and sound-
ing a fifth deeper than played.
For the two concerts of the Boston
Orchestral Club, Mr. Longy has chosen a
list of novelties in French orchestral
music from Dukas, Saint-Saens, Lazzari,
Erlanger, Debussy and others. Mrs.
Richard J. Hall, a highly accomplished
performer upon the saxophone, is president
and patroness of the organization. The
players are between seventy and eighty in
number, and are both amateur and pro-
fessional musicians.
The Barrere Ensemble, the choir of
wood-wind players in New York, organized
and directed by George Barrere, the ad-
mirable first flute of the New York Sym-
phony Orchestra, will give three concerts
this season. A novelty in their prospectus
is a Suite in B flat by Richard Strauss,
which will be played for the first time in
America. The work is in manuscript. It is
for two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, four
horns, two bassoons and contra-bassoon.
The Worcester (Massachusetts) music
festival brought out on September 29
Part I of Granville Bantock's "Omar
Khayyam." The soloists were as follows:
"The Beloved," Margaret Keyes; "The
Poet," Berrick von Norden; "The Phi-
losopher/' Frederick Weld.
AN INTERESTING GRAND OPERA GROUP
1— Lydla'Lipkowska (Photo by Chickering) 2— Alice Nielsen (Photo by Chickering) 3— Carmen Melis (Photo
copyright by Midekin Studio) 4— Frances Alda (Copyright by A . Dupont) 5-George Baklanoff 6— Maunce
Renaud (Copyright by Midekin Studio) 7— Mary Garden 8— Maria Gay (Copyright by A . Dupont) 9— Oscar
Uarnrnerstein (All photos by courtesy of the New England Magazine)
258
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
An orchestra of sixty men from the
Boston Symphony played. Arthur Mees
conducted.
Granville Bantock has been identified
with Birmingham, England, as a choral
and orchestral conductor and as a teacher.
He was born in London, the son of an
eminent British surgeon, and is now forty-
two years old. Ill-health at a critical
moment deterred him from entering the
Indian Civil Service. He tried a course
in chemical engineering, but could not
evade music. The Orient, its people and
atmosphere have been a considerable in-
spiration in his composing. He has
written orchestral and choral works and
songs. He is now engaged upon his work
"Scenes from the Life of Christ." "Geth-
semane," the first of these, completed in
1898, was performed for the first time at
the festival of the Three Choirs at Glou-
cester, England, in September.
Bantock 's "Omar Khayyam" is divided
into three parts, each permitting of sepa-
rate performance. Part I, done at
Worcester, is a setting of the first fifty-
four quatrains of the Rubaiyat, the last
beginning, "Waste not your hour."
This first part was performed for the
first time at any concert at the Birming-
ham (England) festival October 4, 1906.
It was performed by the London Choral
Society, Arthur Flagge, conductor, in
May and again in September of last year.
The same society did the work entire,
Parts I, II and III in February.
The program book of the Worcester
festival, and several newspapers in Boston,
made the statement that the "present
performance (at Worcester) was the first
complete one in this country." Literally
the statement is no doubt true. Part I
was given, however, April 28, 1908, at
the Baptist Temple, Brooklyn, by the
Brooklyn Choral Society, T. Bath Glasson,
conductor. William C. Carl was organist.
The Brooklyn Orchestral Society played.
The soloists were Genevieve Wheat,
Cecil James and Andreas Schneider.
I am in receipt of a letter from Mr.
Glasson, who, in reply to my inquiry as to
how much of the work his society sang,
writes: "The performance of Part I of
Bantock's 'Omar Khayyam1 was prac-
tically given in its entirety save for a few
minor cuts." At the time of the concert,
Granville Bantock wrote Mr. Glasson as
follows: "I wish I could see you in person
and thank you for the introduction of
my 'Omar Khayyam' in America." By
reason of the composer's own words, it
would appear that Mr. Glasson and his
society should share a few crumbs of
credit.
Even acknowledging the difficulty of
avoiding monotony in a text as frankly
philosophical and undramatic as are the
Rubaiyat, the work itself was disappoint-
ing. Bantock has at times caught the
glow, the languor and the fragrance of
Omar's imagery as Fitzgerald has repro-
duced it in English verse. More often he
has allowed the repetition and the tedium
of his personal idiosyncrasies of style to
stamp his pages commonplace. It was
not altogether apparent how successful
he had transcribed the note of rapture
and passion. Miss Keyes and Mr. von
Norden were to be commended for the
lyric beauty and the understanding which
marked their singing.
The work was performed on Thursday
night. Mr. Mees and the members of the
orchestra deserve great praise for giving
so worthy a rendition notwithstanding
the fact that through a blunder on the
part of foreign publishers, a section of the
orchestral parts was omitted, and the
rehearsals of the orchestra were thus de-
layed until the preceding Tuesday. The
singing of the chorus showed excellent
quality and balance of voices and careful
preparation in learning the work.
Part I of Bantock's "Omar Khayyam"
will be done this winter in Boston, by the
Cecilia Society with the Boston Symphony
Orchestra. Max Fiedler will conduct.
St. Paul takes its music seriously. It
appears that matrons in that city de-
manded that a manager proposing to
present Mme. Cavalieri should cancel
her contract at once, charging that well-
esteemed persons should not attend a
musical entertainment at which she ap-
peared. These excellent ladies stipulated
that the manager should engage Mme.
Alda. Mme. Alda is now Mrs. Gatti-
By EDWARD HALE BRUSH
begun
'S a part of a national movement
to extend the influence of hu-
mane teaching, the American
Humane Education Society has
the establishment of traveling
libraries in different parts of the country.
The books will be sent for the most part
into rural districts and will be circulated
principally through the local school boards,
entirely without charge to the readers —
the custodians, of course, being held re-
sponsible to the society for their proper
use. The books have been chosen by a
committee composed of the president of
the society, Dr. Francis H. Rowley, of
Boston; Mrs. Huntington Smith, of
Boston; Dr. Albert Leffingwell, of New
York; Miss Sarah J. Eddy, of Rhode
Island, and Mrs. Mary F. Lowell, of
Pennsylvania. The list of books, thirty
in all, includes Dr. John Brown's "Rab
and His Friends"; "Jonathan and David,"
by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps; "Little Broth-
ers to the Bear," by Dr. William J. Long;
"A Boy I Knew," by Laurence Hutton;
"Wild Animals I Have Known," by
Ernest Thompson Seton; "Concerning
Cats," by Helen M. Winslow, and "Horses
Nine," by Sewell Ford. Also the latter
author's .very latest book called "]ust
Horses," a volume of tales which makes a
strong appeal for the horse and also con-
tains some splendid humors. The committee
will form branches of the organization in
various states to work against the spirit
of wanton cruelty to animals and create
sentiment in favor of public school teach-
ing on the subject.
Sewell Ford's "Horses Nine" is several
years old, but continues to be one of the
books most often called for at the libraries.
Meanwhile Mr. Ford has created "Shorty
McCabe," who lives for the reading world
in several books and is still "on the job,"
acquainting us with the way he sees life
and the queer people in the world. An-
other likable fellow, "Cherub Devine," re-
cently sprang from Mr. Ford's imagination
into the midst of an admiring public. He
is perhaps hardly as original a fellow as
Shorty, or so much in a class by himself,
but his adventures in Wall Street and
among swell society on Long Island are
diverting and serve to furnish expression
to some quaintly humorous passages
bearing on what constitutes "good society."
Mr. Ford is a native of Maine, and he
got his Greek and Latin at an academy- in
Haverhill, Massachusetts, but his literary
career has been chiefly identified with
New York, and he makes his home in
Hackensack, New Jersey. His character
studies have given him a distinct place
in American literature, and he is still a
comparatively young man, though he has
a boy in college. He was looking over the
proofs of some of Shorty's clever sayings
one day when a dear old female relative
dropped into his den. He explained to
her what he was at work on and read to
her what he thought were some of the best
hits in the book. He couldn't help laugh-
ing even at some of his own jokes, and
after a time looked up to see how they
affected her. The dear lady's face was
as glum as a funeral.
(259)
FLASHLIGHT^ OF PUBLIC MEN
DR. FRANCIS H. ROWLEY OF HUMANE FAME
"What's the matter, Aunt, don't you
like it?" asked Ford.
"Like it!" exclaimed the good old soul,
"why, Sewell, I'm shocked, painfully
shocked. To think that you've been
consorting with such low people as pugi-
lists! I actually believe you've been to
horse races, too."
This has been the busy season for
orators at the dedication of monuments.
The poets have been busy, also, and one
of them, dear old Will Carleton, whose
"Farm Ballads" have drawn so many
tears and made so many smiles, read a
poem in his old familiar vein at the dedi-
cation of the equestrian statue of General
FLASHLIGHTS OP PUBLIC MEN
261
Custer at Monroe, Michigan. This statue,
by E. C. Potter, has been highly praised
and will be interesting alike for its artistic
value and its historic associations. An-
other hero has recently been honored, too,
this time one of the heroes of the forum
rather than the battlefield, Henry Clay, a
statue of whom was erected in Lexington,
Kentucky. The Clay statue is by Charles
J. Mulligan, of Chicago, and is a strong
conception of the great statesman claimed
as her most illustrious son by the Blue
Grass State. It cost $10,000 and was
erected under the auspices of the Grand
Army of the Republic and of the local
lodge of Masons, Clay having belonged
to that order. An interesting feature of
the unveiling ceremonies was the presence
of Mrs. Thomas H. Clay, wife of a grand-
son of Clay.
An event of Independence Day was the
unveiling at Court House Square, Scran-
ton, Pennsylvania, of a monument in
honor of General Philip Sheridan. It is
one of the most imposing pieces of statuary
in the country. The dedicatory oration
was delivered by General James R.
O'Beirne, of New York, who served with
the Irish Rifles of that city during the
Civil War, was promoted for heroic con-
duct, later receiving a medal of honor and
being brevetted a brigadier-general. Still
another monument to a Civil War hero
is that dedicated in June at Cold Harbor,
Virginia, in remembrance of Colonel
Peter A. Porter and the men who fell
with him in the battle at that place.
Half a hundred survivors of the Eighth
New York Heavy Artillery participated in
the ceremonies, and Confederates who
fought them also took part. One of the
speakers was ex-Congressman Peter A.
Porter, of Niagara Falls, New York.
* * *
In recent years we have had automo-
biles and wireless telegraphy in fiction,
and now comes the flying machine. "Vir-
ginia of the Air Lanes," by Herbert Quick,
"a story of the day, the hour and the
minute," as the publishers tell us, is
rivaling in interest "Danbury Rodd,
Aviator," by Frederick Palmer. And
then there is that junior at Harvard,
Harold Trowbridge Pulsifer, who won the
Floyd McKim Garrison memorial prize
of $100 for the best poem written by a
Harvard student with his verses entitled
"The Conquest of the Air." One critic
thinks that "not since Kipling's 'Re-
cessional' has there been given us so fine
a poem." Some of the stanzas run:
With a thunder-driven heart
And the shimmer of new wings,
I, a worm that was, upstart;
King of kings!
I have heard the singing stars^
I have watched the sunset die,
As I burst the lucent bars
Of the sky.
SEWELL FORD
Soaring from the clinging sod,
First and foremost of my race,
Other winged men may come,
Pierce the heavens, chart the sky,
Sound an echo to my drum
Ere they die.
I alone have seen the earth,
Age-old fetters swept aside,
In the glory of new birth —
Deified!
Danbury Rodd is a kind of Arabian
Nights hero in the wonders he performs
in his aeroplane, and yet there is realism
262
FLASHLIGHTS OF PUBLIC MEN
in it all. Palmer took his man up 4000
feet in his heavier-than-air flying machine,
an almost unbelievable performance at the
time the story was written, but a number
of the birdmen went twice that high at the
Belmont Park aviation tournament and a
European has made a record of over 9000
feet. Speaking of how he happened to
write his latest story, Palmer says:
"Orville Wright made his big flight, so
CONGRESSMAN ANDREW J. PETERS
of Massachusetts
I decided to make some imaginary flights,
at first, for the fun of the thing. Once
started I became interested. I watched men
fly, literally fly, as the seagulls do in the air
plane of a steamer, not moving a wing and
then cutting dowp. through the air. I read
Sir Hiram Maxim's principles of aviation
and found that he watched the seagulls,
too. I talked to Frenchmen who told me
what they saw and what they felt up in
the air. I got impressions from high
angles, although I've gone up in a flying
machine only once. It is that first lifting
up that gets hold of me, and the man
who first succeeded in doing it was my
inspiration."
* * *
One of the Republican members of the
Massachusetts Congressional delegation
made this comment on a great and grow-
ing evil of our public life, which is perhaps
the largest factor in making our government
the most expensive in the world:
"Our constituents," said the Congress-
man, "want us to do something for them,
and so long as we get our hands in the
Treasury they do not care. The man who
gets a large appropriation for something
in his own district achieves popularity,
no matter what his conduct may be in
regard to general legislation."
Which is lamentably true. Every
member of Congress wants to be popular
and the government spends lots of money
which might as well be spent in one place
as another. Consequently much time
is spent in reaching for the "pork barrel."
The Representative who doesn't crowd
up with the rest to get his share is apt to
be called "no use" by a certain element of
his constituents. This sketch is of a man
who has always refused on general prin-
ciples to crowd up to the "pork barrel"
because he believes that a Congressman
has more important things to attend to.
Andrew James Peters, a Democrat,
represents the eleventh Massachusetts
district, which comprises that part of the
city of Boston called Brighton, Allston,
the Back Bay, Roxbury, Jamaica Plain,
and Roslindale. It is a district including
all ranks of life and a constituency of
varied and divergent ideas on politics
and on everything else. It is always an
interesting district politically to watch.
Originally drafted for a Republican
stronghold, the eleventh Massachusetts
votes with the G. 0. P. consistently and
handsomely in presidential and guber-
natorial contests, but in the Congressional
contests the Democrats have prevailed
by the sheer political strength of their
nominees. First they sent John A. Sulli-
van down to Washington — one of the
ablest and most popular men who ever
represented Boston in Congress, at present
chairman of the Boston Finance Commis-
FLASHLIGHTS OF PUBLIC MEN
263
sion. Mr. Peters followed him and has
made an equally notable position.
His speech on the Catholic claims,
which attracted attention all over the
country, his work on Insular Affairs, and
his fight against the abuse of child labor
made a position for Mr. Peters in the front
rank of the younger members of the
Sixtieth Congress. Typhoid fever dis-
abled him for a time at the end of the
second session and kept him from any
active work until the very last days of his
campaign. His record spoke for him, how-
ever, and he was again elected over Lane.
Mr. Peters* excellent work has been
maintained in the Sixty-first Congress.
His work on the Tariff, the Railroad Bill,
and especially the Weeks Bill for a White
Mountain Forest Reserve has been ap-
preciated. At the close of the Special
Tariff Session he was promoted to the
Committee on Interstate and Foreign
Commerce, which framed the Railroad
Bill and is one of the four leading com-
mittees of the House.
Mr. Peters' record and character are
of the solid sort which should place him
high in the reorganized and newly power-
ful Democracy which will arise if the
Republicans lose control in the next
Congressional elections. The eleventh
district Democrats have a strong candidate
at hand. The chances for a Republican
representative from Boston was quashed
by the re-nomination of Mr. Peters.
* * *
John D. Rockefeller is seventy-one,
and is getting to an age where he looks at
life more from the standpoint of the
philosopher than the money-maker. It
is this phase of his character that one
notices most in the bust of the richest man
in the world, just completed by William
Couper, of New York. Mr. Couper is
famed for his excellence in the modeling
of portrait works and some of the most
notable things of the kind in the country
are from his studio. This bust of Rocke-
feller will naturally be much talked about
and it deserves to be, not only because
it portrays a rich man, but because of
its art and its truth.
* * *
Congressman Don C. Edwards repre-
sents one of the three Kentucky moun-
tain districts — and he represents it well.
He secured the passage of more bills last
term than any man in Congress. Wash-
ington likes him immensely, and so do
the people in his district — but, notwith-
standing all this, Mr. Edwards is having
the fight of his life to retain his seat.
And it is all because Governor Goebel
was shot many years ago. Incidental to
that famous shooting affair Caleb Powers
languished eight years in jail, and was
JOHN D. ROCKEFELLER
finally pardoned by Governor Wilson.
Most everybody felt that the Governor
would pardon Powers, and that was one
of the reasons he was elected by a good
majority. But that wasn't vindication
enough for Powers, and about the time
he got out of jail he started running for
Congress, and his slogan is "Eight Years
in Jail; seven years in Congress" — the
atter part of the epigram (if it can be
called that) applies to Congressman
Edwards. Powers is evidently undaunted
by his long confinement and has been
canvassing the Congressional district. It
is claimed that he endeavored to take
snap judgment by having the primaries
called early before Mr. Edwards could
264
FLASHLIGHTS OF PUBLIC MEN
return from Washington to make his
campaign; but the Congressional Com-
mittee met and by practically a full vote
set the primaries for September 15.
There are nineteen big counties in the
district, and Congressman Edwards is
campaigning in them. The county seats
of only about a half dozen of these
counties can be reached by train, and for
the most part the people can be met only
by going on horse back. But Congress-
man Edwards has "hit the trail," and it
will take him most of the time for three
REPRESENTATIVE DON C. EDWARDS
of Kentucky
months in the saddle, to see all the re-
gions of his constituency. A sample trip
will be his ride of seventy-five miles from
the railroad to speak at Hyden, the county
seat of Leslie County.
Some people think it is a snap to be a
Congressman, but when a Representative
has to go up against the kind of proposi-
tion Mr. Edwards has to meet, after seven
years of faithful, and somewhat distin-
guished service, to save his scalp for no
other reason than to meet an appeal to
the sympathies of the voters — then any
semblance to the place being a sinecure
rapidly fades out of sight.
Mr. Edwards has made his record in
Congress because of the careful, conser-
vative manner in which he handles public
business. He is inclined to be somewhat
non-committal, and has a high regard for
the opinions of his constituency, and
seeks their advice and consults their
interests in all important matters. He
makes a good speech, and is popular
among all classes. Powers is described
as more talkative and inclined to be im-
pulsive, but both men are first-class
fighters, and every mountain trail and
every cabin in all that broad district
will be the scene of their activities during
the present canvass. Irrespective of what
merits Mr. Powers may possess he would
hardly create any spontaneous enthu-
siasm hi Washington, if he should win,
and the personal strength and faithful ser-
vice of Edwards are an asset to Kentucky
and the district that he represents that
would fcr outweigh all the sentiment that
attaches to the Powers claims. Most
people are glad that Powers has his liberty,
because it is the general impression that
he was unjustly imprisoned; but the idea
in Kentucky that Washington might share
any of the sentimentality connected with
the unfortunate Goebel affair is to say
the least absurd. Edwards has won his
spurs and made a good record — no new
man can replace him until he has ac-
quired long experience and made his place
here by hard work.
* * *
There has been some controversy during
the past year over the Speaker of the
House, but concerning Marh'n E. Olmsted,
often termed the "assistant Speaker,"
there has been no dispute. Mr. Olmsted
has been in the House continuously since
the Fifty:fifth Congress. His constit-
uency has so thoroughly appreciated his
valuable services that he has usually been
returned without serious opposition. He
has recently been unanimously renomi-
nated for the Sixty-second Congress, his
district being the Eighteenth Pennsyl-
vania, and comprising the counties of
Dauphin, Lebanon and Cumberland.
Mr. Olmsted has been the leading
figure in solving as many perplexing
problems of legislative government as
any man in Congress. Prior to entering
Congress he enjoyed a large and lucrative
FLASHLIGHTS OF PUBLIC MEN
265
practice in the law, and in his extensive
work in the state and federal courts attained
special distinction in cases involving
questions of constitutional law. He has
at all times devoted himself to his con-
gressional duties with the same fidelity
and enthusiasm that had been his custom
in the practice of his profession. When
he made his first speech in Congress it
was during the passage of the Dingley
Bill, and James S. Sherman, now Vice-
President of the United States, was in
the Chair. Since that day Mr. Olmsted
has perhaps decided more nice parlia-
mentary questions than any other member
of the House, with the possible exception
of Mr. Sherman and the Speakers them-
selves, for he early became acknowledged
authority of first importance in parlia-
mentary law, and has mastered the in-
tricacies of this essential of legislative
government so thoroughly that Speaker
Henderson gave to him the credit of being
the best parliamentarian in the House
and frequently called him to preside over
the House in Committee of the Whole,
when important measures were pending.
Speaker Cannon followed the same course,
and one of the numerous assignments
made by the Speaker to Mr. Olmsted was
to preside over the House for several
weeks, while the Payne-Aldrich tariff
bill was being considered in the Com-
mittee of the Whole. The members
have always liked Mr. Olmsted's manner
of presiding, on account of his absolute
fairness, his quick and clear compre-
hension of the proceedings, and his firm
but courteous mastery of the conflicting
problems in which a presiding officer is
constantly involved.
Congressman Olmsted is chairman of
the Committee on Insular Affairs, and
prepared, reported and secured the pass-
age in the House of a new constitution for
Porto Rico. Last year, when difficulties
arose in the Island requiring the enact-
ment of special legislation, he prepared
and secured the passage of what is known
as the "Olmsted Act," and the wisdom
of the measure has been proven by the
eminently satisfactory results obtained
under it. In this broad field of his con-
gressional work he also assisted in the
enactment of the existing laws for the
government of the Philippines, and as a
member of the Committee on Revision of
Laws was an important factor in preparing
a code for the government of Alaska. In
the intricate problems with which the
administration has had to contend in
shaping the destinies of the United States
possessions, he has been looked upon as
one of the nation's best informed and
most thoroughly equipped authorities,
and his advice and aid have been con-
stantly sought in the development of our
national policies toward our dependencies.
That fairness and justice have actuated
his motives during his whole congressional
life, is shown not only in reference to our
governmental policies, but in his work
while chairman pf the Committee on
Elections. He occupied this position for
a number of years, and disposed of con-
tested seats in Congress with such legal
ability and eminent fairness as to win the
approbation of Democrats and Republicans
alike. The Committee under his guidance
was absolutely removed from any sem-
blance of party influence or prejudice, and
became a tribunal in which contestants
were given all the rights and privileges
usually found in the highest courts of the
land, and although Mr. Olmsted is a
staunch Republican his record shows that
the greater number of decisions made by
him has favored the Democrats over his
own party. That his position was un-
assailable in all these contests was dem-
onstrated by the fact that the House
never failed in a single instance to approve
his recommendations.
At the time of the Swayne Impeachment
proceedings Congressman Olmsted acted
as one of the managers on the part of the
House, and argued the case before the
United States Senate. He is not one of
the kind who resorts to imaginative
flights of oratory, or the picturesque
juggling of words, but is a most forceful
and effective speaker, ever ready in de-
bate, and unfailing in commanding the
respect and attention of his auditors.
Senator Daniel, of Virginia, who listened
to his presentation of the Swayne case,
declared that it was "the best argument
I ever heard in a juridical case."
MllSI^URECORDS
FOR TOE. MONTH
season is at
hand when folks
turn from the exe-
cution of things material to —
the purchase of them! Every year an
increasing number of talking machines
are bought, generally because the pur-
chaser believes "it will be so amusing!"
A word, then, on the evolution of the
talking machine and its sphere.
Not so long ago, leading opera singers
and musicians looked askance at the
phonograph people who asked to record
their work. The talking machine was a
refuge for the comic song and ridiculous
recitation. What a revolution has taken
place! Melba, Bernhardt, Slezak — all the
leading artists of grand opera, besides the
representative musicians and actors of the
world — are now heard universally through
its medium; from an amusement it has
been converted into an important phase
of education.
And this educational value is diversified.
For instance, a certain young friend who
aims to be a "real pianist" finds in the
records by the masters of that instrument,
excellent material for study. The violinist
likewise. The aspirant for Grand Opera
has for some time taken advantage of the
opportunity afforded in renditions by the
greatest artists of the operatic stage.
The schoolboy knows, through such
organizations as Sousa's, Prince's and
Pryor's bands, a good march when he
hears it; and the house of "informals"
has a never-failing orchestra with dance-
music of the best possible variety.
He who is not '* musical" — if such an
individual there be — is at least elevated
from a ten -cent -music -hall taste, and
cannot escape from a general
course of musical education
in the passing.
* * *
Of late, Bert Williams, the colored
comedian, has been getting an immense
amount of publicity through the press.
Few people can forget Williams & Walker,
who kept theater-going America amused
for some dozen years. Since entering the
world of vaudeville, Williams' genuine
humor has placed him in the front rank
of comedians, and the Columbia company
is fortunate in securing his exclusive
contract. This month he offers "Con-
stantly," and "I'll Lend You Everything
I've Got Except My Wife," both perfectly
recorded.
Some exceptionally good instrumental
selections are on the list : The Stehl String
Quartette has done superb work on Von
Gluck's gavotte "Paris and Helena."
George Stehl, of the quartette, gives
"Humoresque" as a violin solo on the
other face.
The four movements of the Peer Gynt
Suite are completed this month by Prince's
Orchestra. Part III is "Anitra's Dance,"
an achievement performed by string.
A piccolo duet is something of a novelty.
One of the best of Mayr's polkas has been
arranged for two piccolos, and the record-
ing has called for high -class work. In
the dancing world, the three-step has been
stepping up toward popularity in triple-
quick time. Prince's Orchestra is excel-
lent in "The Gypsy," Louis Ganne's
dance written to this time. The other
side of the record gives "O Susanna," an
especially catchy schottische. Columbia
owners who are making a collection of
(266)
RECORDS FOR THE MONTH
267
dance music will wish to note the number,
A5228.
A good "semi-high-class" ballad is
Morse's "If This Rose Told you All It
Knows," sung by Henry Burr. It is on
the record with Behrend's popular
"Daddy," sung by Miss Merle Tillotson.
The lists of two and four-minute in-
destructibles contain some good music —
a variety shifting from Strauss's "Persian
March" and Selden & Ingraham's "All
That I Ask of You is Love," to "Snyder,
Does Your Mother Know You're Out?"
* * *
This weather is just the time for a rol-
licking jig of any kind. "Buck Dance
Medley" on the Edison list is a welcome
number this month. John Kimmble has
"a way with him" on the accordion, and
there will be a heavy run on amberol
record No. 553. There's another good jig
record among the Standards — "Highland
Whiskey and Craig's Reel" — played by
that talented old violinist of Scottish
folk-dance fame, William Craig.
A violin, flute and harp record has been
arranged for Schubert's famous "Sere-
nade," by the Venetian Instrumental Trio.
Classical music is this; the trio are masters
of their instruments.
A fantasy from "The Fortune Teller"
is sure to be popular; a number of Victor
Herbert's admirers call it quite the best
of his comic operas. The Edison public
is furnished with the popular "Any Little
Girl, That's a Nice Little Girl, Is the-
Right Little Girl for Me," by Ada Jones
and Chorus. Miss Jones has always been
good in that sort of thing. Bessie Wynn
is as winsome as ever in "I'd Love to,
But I Won't," a clever bit of serio-comic
song.
Many of the Edison owners look forward
with particular interest to the descriptive
record offered by the Peerless Quartet.
"Shipwreck and Rescue" this month con-
veys a more realistic impression than the
moving-picture show — all advantages with
the latter.
The Bernhardt record is Racine's
' ' Phedre — La Declaration . ' ' Slezak renders
a timely Flotow melody, the Serenade in
"Stradella." Opera goers who heard it
at the Metropolitan Opera House last
season will welcome it in permanent form.
* * *
Seventeen Melba records — seventeen
roles from the greatest successes in the
career of perhaps the most famous of all
prima donnas — is an achievement for which
the Victor company deserves hearty con-
gratulation. They have brought the
entire series out in one month's list, and
I can think of no more charming and
unique holiday gift than a set of these
Melba records. The scope of the work
includes "Traviata," "Faust," "Lucia,"
"Boheme," "Otello," "Tosca" and others
of tha most famous operas. Too much
cannot be said of the superb quality of
the records; and no more educative or
charming entertainment could be planned
than an evening of Melba in this wonder-
ful collection.
Melba brought with her to America one
of Australia's most famous flute players,
John Lemmone, who will play the obbligati
to the numbers sung on her tour. He has
given the Victor people two flute solos —
Spindler's "The Spinning Wheel" and
Wetzger's "By the Brook."
In the excellent list of double-faced
records, No. 16652 gives a personal
favorite, the "Ciribiribin," that charming
waltz of Pestalozza's. The Victor catalog
already lists it instrumentally, but the
vocal rendition, by Mme. Lia Bianca, adds
to it in every way.
Schubert admirers will become ecstatic
over the announcement that the famous
unfinished "Symphony in B Minor" has
been recorded. This is the beautiful
fragment which Heutenbrenner, Schubert's
bosom friend, concealed so long after the
composer's death. The Victor Light
Opera Company has gone in for Grand
Opera, and "Gems from Martha" on
the list for the month fully justifies the
step from the comic and light.
It seems a long time since I heard a
Lauder record, and "Queen Among the
Heather" and "A Trip to Inverary," are
welcome indeed. They, with a few records
on the double-face list, give just enough
in the lighter vein to make an altogether
exc i w dl-balanced list.
&n JEngltef) # ieto of Smeri can politics;
By S. T. COOKE
(All rights reserved)
liberty develops iron con-
science," says Emerson. The
use alone in America of this
dictum at the present time
would engender hope regarding the politics
of the nation; when, however, the situa-
tion is such as to warrant definitely the
expectation of a near exemplification of
that dictum, it can surely be felt that,
whatever caused the wild liberty, the iron
conscience, being such an attribute of
sterling worth in national evolution,
justifies the foregoing of any vulgar
emphasizing of the personal obloquy
earned by those who conducted the wild
liberty, although such conscience is de-
veloped for denouncing the reprehensible
in that liberty. It is just as right to
acknowledge an indirect benefit as a
direct one. The opportunity for charity
is implied in all action.
It is the observing of the approach of
an indirect benefit on the above lines
which prompts the sentiments of the
English writer of this article. Being ac-
customed as he is to the serious manner
of British politics, he is glad to find that
America is proving its possession of that
same Anglo-Saxon trait of weighty reason-
ing in legislation which is really essential
to the settling in a fast place in history
of any nation. To state that American
politics have been regarded in Great
Britain as characterized by wild liberty
will not be thought by Americans a harsh
judgment, because the stern treatment
which they themselves are beginning to
mete out to their own national policies
bears out the idea influencing that state-
ment. The writer's thought, all the same,
is not that things American are becoming
English, neither is it his desire that they
should become such. He would show that
he believes that America aspires to being
a great factor in the current world-move-
ment for the conservation of social po-
tentialities, and that it is now in process
of adjusting itself to that position, its
method covering a strict self-discipline
concerning its action at home toward that
conservation. It originated on inde-
pendence of private thought; it will fully
come to its own on independence of social
scope. Indirectly, the wildness which
came amongst the liberty in private
thought, undeniably comprehending ^as
it did all kinds of selfish ways, has pro-
duced in the country all kinds of demands
for an absolute centralization of all kinds
of resources, for the purpose of the whole
nation establishing the operation in itself
of the great principle of social integration,
that quality which blends in due propor-
tion individualistic and collectivistic forces
and makes a nation sound in entity, un-
hindered in outlook, and congruent to
international constructiveness.
The English style of political procedure
so often being shaped by regard for pre-
cedent, or touched with reserve, or directed
by leisureliness, the piquant style of all
American political action could be viewed
by a progressive Englishman in no other
way than as affording just that sensation
of live contact with the urge of instant
developments which gives a specially
practical zest to legislation. Finding, how-
ever, that piquant style used in vari-
ous cases for objects of self-interest —
such cases being not a few — the cause of
the nation at large having, at the same time,
to be but a plaything, he must aver
that liberty of legislative thought, for
which, rightly, that style exists, has been
superseded in many places by license of
private desire — by a wild liberty. News-
paper disclosures of trusts preparing
schedules which end in becoming acts
for putting more unnecessary taxes in
their coffers; chicanery which obtains
political power — as pseudo-moralizing,
now becoming a vogue; factional fights
at times of election; political machines
which negotiate for administration re-
(268)
AN ENGLISH VIEW OF AMERICAN POLITICS
269
gardless of the merits of the case but
mindful of the financiers who back them
for their own commercial ends, policies
which retard the social amelioration of the
poor for the sake of material gain from
highly productive speculation in crowded
districts, distinct reactionary tactics to-
ward progress because of partisan jealousy
— often showing itself in rank personalities
in Congress; definite bribery to get elected
to Congress — what are these but evidences
of abuse of personal freedom, of license
which goes beyond the limit of the inde-
pendence of republican citizenship by
trespassing on the same independence
of others? Injustice, self-aggrandizement,
and evil-mindedness in individualistic
forces are taking liberties with the col-
lectivistic forces, thus showing the wild
disposition which cares nothing about
principle and consequently does not
consider that the tendency of its proceed-
ings is destructive to itself and its sur-
roundings because its action does not
belong to the centralization of resources
for the conservation of social potentialities.
One of the surest evidences that iron
conscience is at work is the fact that
party distinction is not being followed in
the determination to end the anomaly
of many congressional rules being nothing
more than factional tools. A general
combination of the forces of righteous-
ness has brought forward a movement
which reveals altogether a new set of
conditions in American public policy.
To entitle it is only of secondary im-
portance, but its designations of ' 'In-
surgency," "The New Nationalism,"
"Progressivism," "The Square Deal,"
"Progressive Republicanism," and "Pro-
gressive Democratic Policy," compared
with those which are used to mean its
objects of attack — namely, "Corruption,"
"Bossism," "Bribery," "Reactionary
Policy," "Standpatting," "Muckraking,"
and "The Special Interests" settle the
matter once and for all as having a straight
moral issue. The country has developed
a nausea for sham, bluff, selfishness,
jealousy, craft, graft, and injustice in
political circles.
The writer is able to feel that the nation
is getting to business in deadly earnest.
In the first place, the fervent enthusiasm
for public denunciation of corruption in
politics indicates a concerted onslaught
of it. Next, the continued steadiness of
public interest for the one subject amongst
the daily news shows that there is every
prospect that the spasmodic nature of
past American interest is becoming in-
conspicuous. Then, the outspokenness
of newspapers, as the Seattle (Washington)
Post Intelligencer, as to their prosecuting
an independent policy because the "stern
logic of events has made it plain that the
people of today look to a newspaper for
broader leadership than the old party
organ could , afford," this demand for
"independence of thought and opinion
on the part of newspapers" being "too
insistent, too strong, too just to be ig-
nored," there can be no doubt that a
campaign of direct impartial dealing with
existing conditions is in progress. Vic-
tories, too, are happening: elections are
showing indisputably where sympathy
is; those who stand for the extremes of
reaction or excessive taxation are being
kept out of the nation's legislation. Also,
the publication of election forecasts evinces
dismay in the enemy's camp regarding
the future success of boss rule, the special
interests, and factional machines. Lastly,
the grave tone of all press opinion is a
criterion that a heated conflict is being
pursued by the new movement. Iron
conscience has most truly commenced
to dictate stringent measures; stringent
measures are most truly achieving de-
cisive conquest. The further application
of the ethical treatment will remedy ab-
solutely the unrighteousness in American
politics. Checked progress there may some-
times be, for there is always the possibility
of an element of evanescent emotionalism
somewhere in a progressive scheme, but
that would only serve to reveal the mighti-
ness which fascinated that emotionalism
and argue the inevitableness of its ultimate
triumph. One very effective stringent
measure attributable to nothing else
except iron conscience is the adoption
of commission government in various
states. It has made unmistakable the
fact that it is within the power of the
public to work out its own national salva-
tion. In Galveston, this form of govern-
ment has "exhibited merits that other
270
AN ENGLISH VIEW OF AMERICAN POLITICS
communities have quickly recognized;
it has there exhibited weaknesses and
serious defects that other communities
have avoided. The central idea of the
Galveston plan is sound. It is adaptable
to the thousands of towns and cities that
are now struggling under the incubus of
the old system as it was to Dallas, Des
Moines, Cedar Rapids, Kansas City,
Kansas, and scores of other places which
are as proud as Galveston. All that is
necessary is that the special needs of each
community shall be considered. The
system is flexible." Another dictation
of this conscience on stringent lines is
the outcry in the West for legislation
regarding monopolistic railroad freight
rates, railroad control of waterways, and
express company charges. Another is
the determining of political fraud by a
senatorial committee with the rarest of
intensity of investigation. Another is
the plan to get Congress to legislate for
making of the tariff board a permanent
body to be affiliated, as a bureau, with
the treasury department. Another — a
shrewd and paramountly important one —
is the endeavor to institute federal laws
and a federal executive for demolishing
the domination of the government by
the special interests.
The iron conscience is resolved to be
thorough in its reformation. The Anglo-
Saxon element of accentuating the im-
portance of politics with dignity is assert-
ing itself in the special time of need. The
process of consolidation of legislative
capacity to form a greatness of superior,
chaste congressional enacting is under
way. Modern systematic system is being
introduced into current politcial pro-
grammes ; the arrangement of the president
of a college undertaking the careful
analysis of certain prevailing political
conditions establishes the fact. States-
manship of the highest order is most
seriously desired as the rule and not the
exception. Weight without ponderous-
ness, depth without indefiniteness, volume
without vagueness, earnestness without
puritanicalness, decision without hurry —
these are being sought as the general
characteristics of business in the House
of Representatives, in the Senate, and in
the Cabinet. The grandeur of an exalted
passion for ensuring consummate national
destiny and supreme international in-
fluence is the glowing ideal which is be-
coming clear and distinct before the soul
of the American people. All honor to
the nation and full success!
Throughout his observations on the
new progressivism, the writer has had in
mind the general tendency of its main
idea. He is now obliged, however, to
show that its campaigning needs a great
amount of organization to result in perma-
nent effectuality. Misuse of the move-
ment by self-seekers, misemployment of
the principles of the square deal, mis-
placed favoring of tense excitement, mis-
judging of national financial conditions,
and misguided reliance on demagogy
have place in the lead of the attack, while,
amongst the people generally, there is mis-
construction of public duty and mis-
conception as to the vast compass of the
purpose in question.
The movement has its self-seekers as
have the old parties. Nothing short of
arrant knavery in identifying themselves
as Insurgents must be reckoned to men
who are proving by their actions in Con-
gress, in opposing the accomplishing of
the Republican party's platform promises,
that they are simply envious after posi-
tions of power.
The vogue of the "square deal" is being
misused. Certain men are to be found
professing to believe in business honesty
while, in their personal character, they
reveal dishonesty. They aim for the
profiting of part and not the whole of
the commonwealth. Evidently, they are
after money for its own sake. These men
are not Insurgents but Resurgents, for,
while personal character is hypocritical,
the resurrection of the object which was
killed by any sort of scheme can always
be expected. Character cannot be sepa-
rated from business.
Although all history tells of the weakness
of hysteria, similar symptoms in the mental
attitude of various speakers are being
encouraged. Any medical handbook will
direct restraint and confidence in nervous
application for the attainment of all true
purpose.
The talk about tariff revision often con-
fuses pillage with tollage. To animadvert
AN ENGLISH VIEW OF AMERICAN POLITICS
271
upon overtaxation without a detailed ex-
planation of the proportion which high
wages bears to high prices— that is, with-
out showing that, within the last ten
years or so, the values of labor and of
commodities have been more definitely
recognized and more practically acknowl-
edged— is to obscure the issue between
greed and meed. Moreover, in view of
the above proportion, in a prosperous
country where there is no economic suf-
fering, the emphasizing of the cry about
the high cost of living has less influence
when unaccompanied by an analyzed
specification of its relation to the cost
of high living.
The rancor inseparable from the ora-
tory of some of the leaders is no credit
to the new cause. Factional progres-
sivism is a contradiction. To incite to
action by means of personal expressions
of contempt and the holding up to public
disdain of criticized politicians, whether
proved to be offenders or not, is to bring
into prominence base methods of conflict,
because they do not deal logically with
principles but sensuously with imperti-
nences. Not the demagogue is wanted
but the commander.
There are evidently many who have
been roused into moral indignation over
the corrupt practices of politicians, ir-
respective of party, which indignation,
not having been regularly educated to
see the certain advantage of an individual
challenge to the forces of political evil,
results in public duty being felt to be
an abstention from going to the polling
booth altogether. On the other hand,
there are many who, without any dis-
crimination, vote for Progressivists be-
cause they think that they will thus aid
reform.
Public duty necessitates personal use
of national institutions and personal
responsibility for national activities; other-
wise only vacuity will characterize na-
tional function.
It has also to be frankly admitted that
many people who avow sympathy with
the New Nationalism are in the same
condition as legions of others in the country
in having but a quasi-intelligent idea of
politics.
Patriotism would then receive an
uncommonly great impetus if matters
of general political knowledge could be
disseminated in a scientific manner. The
fact is that a considerable percentage of
ordinary people are not having their in-
tellectual faculties exercised in the present
day. (England, here, is just as much a
transgressor). They have a somewhat
vague idea that national constructiveness
shows evidence of taking care of itself
in that there is continual political agita-
tion of some sort or another. The "Pro-
gressivist" portion of this great number
sides with Insurgency from a good but
indefinite feeling that political corrup-
tion is wrong, and that it is a sign of
national progress being in operation when
certain men of outstanding personality,
having reputations for leading unblemished
lives, are to the front in a strenuous con-
flict of an ethical character. Beneficial
comparison, too, is not generally adopted:
the effective legislation of the present
administration comes in for but scant
notice.
The people, largely, do not think. They
read a great deal, but their reading is not
conducive to reflection. Certain fiction
magazines containing pithless narrative
take up much of the space for show at
the news agents' stores and the bookstalls,
being eagerly bought and mentally raven-
ously consumed. Here and there, an in-
tellectual article is to be found, indicat-
ing that things are moving somewhere
in a good direction, but, for the most part,
light, objectless, albeit sensational love
tales and stories of adventure are served
as brain commodities. For a long time,
faith in "popular" literature has been
exercised by readers and publishers alike,
and so the enervating of much of the na-
tional intellect has had its dire opportunity,
influencing infatuation instead of convic-
tion. It is high time that this sort of
thing began to cease.
The responsible leaders of Insurgency
will be well advised if they call a halt on
excited hortatoriness and marshal their
forces with system. They should take
time critically to examine what remedial
capabilities are at their disposal and dis-
sociate them from everything else which
is about their company. There is the
danger of being inordinately romantic.
272
SONG OF THE TOILERS
There is the risk of being hoodwinked.
There is the chance of presumptuousness.
Propaganda can drift into extravaganza.
What is urgently wanted is an organiza-
tion of right material for collected settling
down to technical application of legisla-
tive reform in a perfectly ethical spirit.
Erratic formulas must give place to ac-
curate provisos. Abnormal feeling must
not be above correction from being un-
deceived. The possession of undoubted
facts must demand unflinching argument
without being unwilling for just compro-
mise.
Let there be complete extermination of
error, but a restrained administering of
justice to its agents. The iron of the new
American conscience, while it should be
sharp, need not be rough. Let national
truth and national mercy meet together
and thus cause the fair glory of American
Independence to be known throughout the
world by its capacity for redemption as
well as freedom.
SONG OF THE TOILERS
By EDWARD WILBUR MASON
I AM the Bun; great artist of high noon,
What though my vasty studio be strewn
With dawns and sunsets, each a wonder bright:
Still is my joy in painting common light!
I am the Wind; fleet shepherd of the star,
What though I never reach my goal afar:
Still in my endless wanderings am I blessed,
Finding peace in strife, and in motion, rest!
I am the Sea; gray yeoman of the years,
What though my leaping waves revolt with tears:
Still in the furrow 'twixt the land below,
Yoked and obedient my tides all gol
I am the Dust; huge Caliban of God,
What though I idly bide in peak and clod:
Behold they also serve who stand and wait,
And life shall come with beauty soon or late!
decent $rogre$£ to
By W. C. JENKINS
TTHE New Haven telephone exchange
1
was first opened sometime in January,
1878, but the first list of subscribers was
published on Februray 21, 1878, and this
may properly be regarded as the date of
the birth of commercial telephone service
in the world.
The first directory contained fifty sub-
scribers, and it is interesting to note that
thirty-one still remain as subscribers
today. At that time the exchange was
operated by the New Haven District
Telephone Company which was succeeded
in 1880 by the Connecticut Telephone
Company, operating exchanges at Bridge-
port, Derby, Hartford, Meriden, New
Britain and New Haven, with about
fifteen hundred subscribers. In 1882 the
Southern New England Telephone Com-
pany was incorporated and has furnished
service continually in the state since that
date. At the time of the incorporation
of the Southern New England Company
there were twenty-five exchanges in Con-
necticut with a total of about three thou-
sand subscribers, which number had in-
creased to 5,489 at the close of 1890.
During the next five years the increase
was 1,341, bringing the total up to 6,830
at the close of 1895. Between 1895 and
1900 the increase was 8,448. Between
1900 and 1905 it was 26,551 and for the
four years following 1905, was 31,775,
bringing the total number of telephones
in the state up to 73,584 at the close of
1909, or one telephone to each 14.2 in-
habitants. The total number of tele-
phones is distributed evenly throughout
the state, the company's service extending
not only to every township, but to all
villages and practically to every hamlet
or community settlement.
It should perhaps be explained that
while the first commercial exchange was
operated in New Haven, a telephone
switchboard had previously been tried in
Bridgeport. Mr. Thomas B. Doolittle,
a manufacturer, had a telegraph board
fitted up which gave connection between
a number of residents in Bridgeport.
By removing the telegraph instrument and
substituting receivers, he completed the
first telephone connection through a
switchboard. *
The first metallic circuit in the state
was installed on January 1, 1887, but it
was not until ten years later that the entire
state was made metallic. In due time
came the cable and underground conduit,
which is at the present time the highest
character of telephone construction known.
The Southern New England Telephone
Company has practically been in the front
rank of every progressive movement in
telephone affairs since the birth of the
service in 1878.
As in all the New England states,
Connecticut has never taken kindly to
the dual telephone. On various occasions,
however, independent promoters have
sought recognition, but with practically
no success. There is a law in Connecticut
which provides that before any corpora-
tion or telephone interest can utilize the
highways of the state for duplicate tele-
phone plants, or can impose upon the
people of the state the unavoidable added
cost for duplicate telephone service, that
corporation must first show to a judge
of the Superior Court that the provision
of its service is demanded by public con-
venience and necessity. This law is based
upon what is apparently a settled policy
of the state to safeguard the interests of
its inhabitants in the matter of unnec-
essary wastes of capital, undesirable dupli-
cation of public utilities and to preserve
the good name of the state in the matter
of guarding its franchise privileges. Many
other states could materially advance their
interests by enacting a similar law.
The Southern New England Telephone
Company has always had men of state
wide prominence as active members of
(273)
274
RECENT PROGRESS IN TELEPHONY
its Board of Directors. The late Morris
F. Tyler, who died December 4, 1907,
was for many years president of the com-
pany. Mr. Tyler was one of the most
enthusiastic telephone men in the business.
Notwithstanding the fact that he was one
of the prominent members of the Connecti-
cut Bar, and largely interested in the
affairs of Yale University and state
matters, he cherished a fondness for the
Telephone Company that never permitted
a relaxation of interest in its development.
Mr. Tyler's death was followed by the
election of John W. Ailing as president
of the company. Mr. Ailing had pre-
viously been connected with the company
for many years both as a director and its
counsel. He is thoroughly informed in
every phase of telephony not only in
Connecticut, but over the entire country.
Mr. James T. Moran was elected vice-
president of the company in January,
1908, to succeed Mr. James English, who
declined a re-election. Mr. Moran is also
general attorney of the company. He
has been identified with the telephone
company for many years and was the
right-hand man of President Tyler during
the years when every step in telephone
affairs was practically an experimental
one.
H. H. Sykes, general manager of the
company, became identified with the
telephone business in 1891, when he was
a" member of the engineering corps of the
American Telephone & Telegraph Com-
pany in New York. Later he was engi-
neer of the Bell Telephone Company of
Missouri. In 1902 he was engaged as
general superintendent of the Southern
New England Telephone Company. In
1907 he was elected general manager.
PROVIDENCE TELEPHONE
COMPANY
Probably there are few investigations
that bear more evidence of diligent in-
quiry than that made by the city council
of Providence in 1907, when an effort was
made to introduce a dual telephone
system in that city. Backed, as the propo-
sition was to some extent, by reputable
and well-known citizens of Rhode Island,
who had undoubtedly been misled as to
independent telephone profits, it required
that business facts, not sentiment, should
govern the council in its investigations.
The local board of trade also made a
thorough investigation and when the
reports were presented the possibility of
gaining an independent foothold in Provi-
dence vanished like dew before a summer's
sun.
The report of the committee from the
board of trade not only expressed an in-
telligent analysis of the effect of a dual
telephone system, but it paid a tribute
to the Providence Telephone Company
that was highly deserved. These ex-
pressions assure capital that in Provi-
dence investments will not be knowingly
endangered. As the result of these in-
vestigations the city council entered into
an exclusive agreement with the Provi-
dence Telephone Company for a number
of years.
Of course these recommendations on
the part of the board of trade were not
made for the sole purpose of discouraging
independent telephone competition, but
they were largely made as a matter of
recognition of the efficient service rendered
by the Providence Telephone Company.
While the Rhode Island Company is
among the smallest of the Bell subsid-
iaries, it has been one of the most flourish-
ing and prosperous companies founded,
and a more progressive telephone com-
pany would be difficult to find. The offi-
cers and directors are men of estimable
standing who display much enthusiasm
in furnishing adequate service and their
desire is to afford facilities that are second
to none. An inquiry among representa-
tive business men of Rhode Island dis-
closed a spirit of appreciation and interest
in the company that is absent in telephone
affairs in many states. As illustrative of
this sentiment, I might mention an inci-
dent which occurred during my visit with
Mr. Charles T. Howard, secretary of the
company. A letter came while I was talk-
ing with Mr. Howard from a patron at
Newport, Rhode Island, enclosing a check
for his January toll bill. The total amount
was $11.94, but on account of its inability
to render what the company considered
satisfactory service during the unusual
snowstorms early in January, a reduction
of one-third had been made from the bilL
RECENT PROGRESS IN TELEPHONY
275
Mr. Norman's letter tells its own story.
He said: "Realizing the satisfactory serv-
ice, and the always prompt response in
case of trouble on my line, I cannot
accept any rebate." He paid the full
amount of the bill.
It is this spirit of appreciation of the
company's effort to treat the people right
that has kept the independent telephone
companies out of Rhode Island. There
is no cry of "down with the monopoly"
in that state. The people realize that
conservative monopoly in telephone affairs
is less harmful than competition.
The history of the Providence Tele-
phone Company dates back to March,
1879, when the company was organized
in Hartford, Connecticut, under the laws
of that state with a capital of $10,000,
which was afterwards increased to $30,000.
The original company acquired the right
to do a telephone exchange business in
Providence. Rooms were engaged in the
Brownell building, and the first switch-
board in Providence was installed there.
Another exchange was installed in the
Butler Exchange building, working under
patents controlled by the Western Union
Telegraph Company. For awhile the two
companies were in competition. At the
close of the year 1879 Governor Henry
Howard entered into negotiations with the
Connecticut people looking to the ac-
quirement of the stock of the company by
the Providence people. In January, 1880,
the Providence gentlemen took control
and the following officers were then elected :
president, Henry Howard; vice-president,
Henry G. Russell; secretary, Charles T.
Howard; treasurer, Charles T. Dorrance.
The Providence gentlemen had pre-
viously organized a Providence Telephone
Exchange Association and had acquired
control of the Western Union Exchange
in Providence. This property was now
taken over by the Providence Telephone
Exchange Company, and in January,
1880, the two exchanges were combined
under one management. In May, 1880,
the Providence Telephone Exchange was
incorporated and these gentlemen were
named in the charter as the first directors :
Henry Howard, Henry G. Russell, Row-
land Hazard, Henry C. Cranston, George
R. Phillips, Russell M. Lamed, Francis W.
Carpenter, Charles Bradley, Christopher
R. Greene and James H. Chace. Of these
gentlemen James H. .Chace is the only
one now on the board. Henry Howard,*
the first president, held his office until
July, 1892, when he resigned and was
succeeded by Henry C. Cranston, who
held the office of president until his death
in May, 1896. On June 11 of the same
year, Dexter B. Potter was elected presi-
dent of the company and has held the
office to this date. Dr. Fenner H. Peckham
became vice-president in September, 1897,
and is still in office. Charles T. Howard
was made secretary of the company in
July, 1880, and Charles T. Dorrance was
made treasurer at the same time. Mr.
Dorrance resigned and Mr. Howard was
elected treasurer on October 24, 1881, and
has held the position of secretary and treas-
urer ever since.
The first superintendent of the com-
pany was Henry B. Lyttle, who was suc-
ceeded after several years by L. W. Clark,
who was succeeded by J. W. Duxbury,
who served about seven years. When
Mr. Duxbury resigned Mr. Albert C.
White was appointed general manager.
On Mr. White's death in 1902, Mr. J. F.
Beck, who then held the office as assistant
manager, became general manager of the
company and is still in office.
The development of the Providence
Telephone Company shows that, like all
the American Bell subsidiary companies,
the growth has been greatest during recent
years. In 1884 the company had 2,778
stations; in 1889, 4,100 stations, in 1894,
5,567 stations; in 1899, 6,813 stations;
in 1904, 14,735 stations, and in 1910 there
are 30,478 stations, 75,000 miles of wire
and 826 employees.
The telephone history of Cincinnati and
suburban towns affords an interesting
study — interesting in the fact that inde-
pendent competition has been successfully
met whenever the campaign for the dual
telephone system has been inaugurated.
It is also interesting for the fact that at
no place in the United States are the people
getting better telephone service.
The history dates back to 1873, when
the City and Suburban Telegraph Associa-
276
RECENT PROGRESS IN TELEPHONY
tion was incorporated for the purpose of
operating the printing telegraph system,
largely for furnishing communication be-
tween offices and factories. A number of
lines were built, the longest being from
Cincinnati, Ohio, to Aurora, Indiana, a
distance of thirty miles. The system
seemed to be popular and considerable
development was experienced.
In July, 1882, Captain George N. Stone,
well-known owner of the trotter, " Maude
S," assumed the position of general man-
ager of the company, and on January 1,
1883, his first annual report showed that
the company had 2,266 subscribers. The
rates at that time were seventy-two dol-
lars for the first mile radius and twelve
dollars for each additional quarter mile.
The residences were some cheaper.
In 1883 the rates were readjusted and
a uniform price of one hundred dollars per
year for direct lines for business houses
was prescribed. Residences were given
a three-party line for fifty dollars per year.
These rates covered Cincinnati, Covington
and Newport, Kentucky.
In 1886 the introduction of the multiple
switchboard appeared, and a new exchange
was built at Third and Walnut streets.
This exchange was equipped for 2,100
lines, and all subscribers in the three branch
offices were consolidated and put in the
one exchange; at that time this was a
revolution in the method of handling
telephone messages. The company then
settled down to one main exchange and
three branch offices; all were equipped to
supply the needs of the city at that time.
About January 1, 1889, the Mt. Auburn
single trolley electric railroad was built,
and the operation of this road seriously
impaired the telephone service to such
an extent that suit was brought against
the railway company.
On February 12 an injunction was
granted by the Superior Court of Cincinnati
— special term — (President Taft then being
the presiding judge), and the railroad was
given six months to change its system.
The case was appealed and confirmed by
the Superior Court — general term. Locally
it would seem that the judges decided the
case by the apparent fairness of the propo-
sition: "Whether or not the Trolley Com-
pany should string one more wire, or
whether the Telephone Company should
duplicate all its wires."
When the case was carried to the Su-
preme Court of Ohio and placed on its
legal merits, the decision was reversed.
This compelled the Telephone Company
to rebuild all its pole lines and construct
metallic circuits to overcome the inter-
ference from the single trolley.
The first line was taken up by the
suburban and toll lines along the route
of the electric road. Three new copper
metallic circuits were built from Cin-
cinnati to Hamilton, Ohio, a distance of
twenty-five miles, and two copper circuits
to Dayton, Ohio, a distance of sixty miles.
This gave Cincinnati its first metallic
toll circuits.
Previous to this time nothing but
grounded lines were used, and the longest
distance conversation could be carried was
to Springfield, Ohio, and that with great
difficulty.
The introduction of metallic circuit lines
was a revolution in telephone business and
a matter of great advantage to the business
interests.
In 1890 property was purchased and
arrangements m-de to install the first
multiple metallic switchboard.
On May 12, 1891, the company was
granted a perpetual franchise to operate
and maintain an underground system. In
the following spring, the first subway
system was completed. This consisted of
25,235 feet of subway and contained
299,018 feet of single duct and eighty-five
manholes. The business of the company
since that date has grown until the equip-
ment consists at the present time of 120
miles of subway, containing 723 miles of
single duct, 1,640 manholes, 48,183 miles
of pairs of wires, 15,509 miles of pairs of
aerial cable, 30,000 miles aerial wires on
poles and thirty-six exchanges.
There has always been the most friendly
relationship existing between the company
and its subscribers, as has been shown
principally by its success in keeping out
opposition, also by the following circum-
stance :
During the session of the Legislature
in 1898, a rate bill was introduced fixing
a charge of sixty dollars for business and
thirty dollars for residences located any-
RECENT PROGRESS IN TELEPHONY
277
where within ten miles of an exchange.
Rate bills had been introduced in every
session of the Legislature since the tele-
phone service began, but on this occasion
the company adopted a unique method of
killing all such bills. A remonstrance was
presented to the Legislature which had
been signed by ninety-five per cent of
the subscribers of the Cincinnati and
Suburban Bell Telephone Company, stat-
ing that they were entirely satisfied with
the service rendered and the rates charged.
Previous to this time, the list of sub-
scribers had grown very slowly and on
January 1, 1900, they numbered only
6,905, but all were equipped with metallic
circuits and long distance instruments.
It is said that no other city in the United
States was equipped with those instru-
ments so fully as was Cincinnati at that time.
During the next three years, the num-
ber of subscribers doubled, and on January
1, 1905, they had 25,315 subscribers, and
on December 1, 1909, the list had again
doubled, they having 52,372 subscribers.
Realizing that the method of furnishing
service had become somewhat standard-
ized, the company adopted an aggressive
policy and began the establishment of
exchanges in all villages and towns in its
territory and now has in operation thirty-
six exchanges.
There have been two strenuous attempts
to get into Cincinnati by the Queen City
Telephone Company, an independent or-
ganization. The first time was in 1900
and the last in 1903 and 1904; both times
canvassers were put in the field and custom
solicited at lower rates. The result of this
effort was anything but a success and the
subscribers who signed were mostly all
men who had no use for a telephone.
During 1904 three opposition companies,
namely, the Queen City Home Telephone
Company, Interstate Telephone Com-
pany and the Cincinnati Telephone Com-
pany, applied for franchises but were
refused by the City Council. A committee
from the city council made a very com-
plete investigation of the results of a dual
telephone system in all cities within a
radius of three hundred miles. Hundreds
of the subscribers in these cities were
interviewed, and no effort was spared to
obtain complete and accurate data as to
the effects of a double system. The report
of the committee should be read by every
business man in cities where an effort has
been made to introduce a dual system.
The Queen City Company carried the
case to the Probate Court, and a decree
was granted authorizing them to build a
plant in the city. This decree was con-
tested by the city of Cincinnati and the
local telephone company and reversed by
the Court of Common Pleas and that de-
cision was sustained by the Circuit Court.
The management has been in the hands,
of Mr. B. L. Kilgour since the death of
Captain Stone, which occurred March 8,
1901. The officers are John Kilgour, presi-
dent, B. L. Kilgour, vice-president and
general manager, and W. A. Blanchard,
treasurer.
Two-thirds of the stock is owned in
Cincinnati — thus making the company a
local institution. It operates in thirteen
counties in Ohio, Indiana and Kentucky.
MICHIGAN STATE TELEPHONE
COMPANY
The Bell gains in Michigan, especially
in Detroit, have been larger in the past
two years than in any corresponding period
in the history of the Michigan State Tele-
phone Company. The independent com-
panies are making practically no headway
and an apparent spirit of disinterested-
ness is noticeable among those who once
championed the opposition to the Bell.
The Michigan State Telephone Company
is not a subsidiary of the American Tele-
phone & Telegraph Company, although
it has connections with the long distance
lines of the parent Bell Company.
In most of the subsidiary companies the
American Telephone and Telegraph Com-
pany owns a controling interest in the stock,
but this is not true of the Michigan State
Telephone Company, the stock of which
is owned largely in Michigan and Chicago,
and New England. The Michigan State
Telephone Company is, however, as far
as methods of operation are concerned,
a part of the Bell system. It gets the
advantages of the engineering department
of the American Telephone and Telegraph
Company and shares in whatever beneficial
advice the parent company sends out.
The history of the Bell Company in
278
RECENT PROGRESS IN TELEPHONY
Michigan would make an interesting
story. It would show a vast difference
between anticipation and realization and
it would show a period of disheartening
struggle before the present degree of suc-
cess was acquired. It has made phe-
nomenal gains during the past two years
and the percentage of gain in Detroit
during the year 1909 is probably greater
than in any of the larger cities of the
United States. As will be shown by the
figures published herewith the gain in
subscribers in Detroit last year was 10,297,
an increase of 27.7 per cent.
With the increased demand of nearly
one thousand stations per month upon
the company's facilities have also come
difficulties in securing competent operators
to handle the business. The industrial
activity in Detroit and the demand for
female labor have, to some extent, im-
paired the character of the service during
the past year, but this has been remedied
and the subscribers are now well satisfied.
Michigan still retains its distinctive
position of antagonism to corporations.
Through the passage of peculiar laws,
during the past twenty years, it has placed
itself upon the unfriendly list in Eastern
financial circles and it is difficult to in-
duce capital to go into the state to be
engaged in any enterprise of a semi-public
nature. The last Legislature passed what
is known as the "Advalorem Tax Law,"
which provides a change in the methods of
assessing taxes against Telephone and
Telegraph companies. Under the previous
law the corporations paid a specific tax,
amounting to three per cent on the gross
earnings. Under the new law, the tax
depends altogether on the assessed valua-
tion of the property. Such a law mani-
festly works an injury to telephone com-
panies because of the difficulties in arriving
at a fair valuation of the properties. These
difficulties are occasioned by a very rapid
depreciation, diversified value of a great
deal of the property on account of ruinous
competition and a large amount of obso-
lete material, due to changes in the art.
But the greatest difficulty is occasioned by
the fact that telephone rates in Michigan
were established under the specific three
per cent tax law, and in many of the cities
these rates cannot be changed without
municipal consent, which is always diffi-
cult to obtain.
Under the old law the Michigan State
Telephone Company paid taxes amounting
to $98,134 for the year 1908-9. If the
valuation placed upon the property by
the Board of Tax Commissioners is per-
mitted to stand, the company will be com-
pelled to pay $268,710 this year. The
Grand Rapids Telephone Company's taxes
will be increased from $18,023 to $51,675.
Independent telephone competition in
Michigan is practically dead. No new
companies have been organized during
the past two years, and those in existence
are making practically no headway. There
are altogether 865 telephone companies
in the state, and the Michigan State Tele-
phone Company has connecting arrange-
ments with 446 of these companies.
The state has 272,000 telephones in
service, of which 177,000 are either Bell
subscribers or are working under sub-
licensee contracts with the Michigan State
Telephone Company. Since the company
was reorganized in 1904, at which time
N. W. Harris & Company of Chicago
bought in the property at foreclosure sale,
the organization has become one of the
best in the country. Probably never in
the history of American corporations was
a reorganization made so absolutely de-
void of profit to the reorganizers. The
trust deed under which the present out-
standing bonds were issued is as near an
approach to absolute security as it is pos-
sible for such a document to be.
The gains made by the company since
reorganization tell an interesting story of
energy and successful effort. The figures
are as follows:
Detroit
Increase
Total State
Increase
February 1,
December 31,
December 31,
December 31,
December 31,
1904
1904
1905
1906
1907
14,385
16,017
18,126
23,348
28 835
1,632—11.3%
2,109—13.2%
5,222—28.8%
5 487 — 23 5%
55,606
66,342
77,047
92,576
102 250
10,736—19.3%
10,705—16.1%
15,529—20.2^
9 674 — jo 5%
December 31,
December 31,
1908
1909
37,232
47,529
8,397—29 . 1%
10,297—27.7%
113,725
132,270
11,475—11.2%
18,545—16.3%
RECENT PROGRESS IN TELEPHONY
279
The present management of the Michi-
gan State Telephone Company consists
of the following officers:
W. C. Kingsbury, president; Dudley E.
Waters, vice-president; Isaac Sprague,
vice-president; D. W. Trafford, vice-presi-
dent and general manager; N. W. Harris,
chairman Board of Directors; John T.
Shaw, chairman Executive Committee.
Three years ago in an article in the
NATIONAL MAGAZINE I ventured the
opinion that the differences between the
anticipation and realization in independent
telephone ventures in Wisconsin had made
a history that encircled the state with a
wall which no promotor of an independent
telephone organization could possibly
climb. This prediction was made largely
upon the history of the many companies
that bloomed and blossomed for a day and
had fallen by the wayside; and also be-
cause of a reorganization of the Bell Com-
pany in that state, and the introduction
of more liberal measures in rates and ser-
vice. That this prediction had merit is
evidenced by the fact that since that date
not a single independent company has
been organized in Wisconsin to "down" the
monopoly." A few rural or farmers com-
panies had been organized in districts not
covered by the Bell, but they are all work-
ing under sub -licensee contracts with the
Wisconsin Company.
Many Wisconsin capitalists have been
taught a very expensive lesson in telephone
ventures and as history furnishes the only
safe guidance in human affairs, the Wis-
consin business men see nothing inviting
in enterprises of this character.
A remarkable change of front has taken
place among many Milwaukee business
men in regard to "competition" in tele-
phone service. Milwaukee never had but
one company, but a franchise was given
some promoters about three years ago
which permitted the introduction of a
competing system. At that time certain
business men were of the opinion that two
telephones would insure better service
and lower rates. Today there is no demand
whatever for the dual system and, con-
scious of this fact, the independent organi-
zation seems to content itself by lying
dormant. A resolution has been intro-
duced in the Common Council seeking to
revoke the permit given the promoters
three years ago.
Wisconsin has had two years of public-
utility commission experience. In tele-
phone affairs it has been an unqualified
success and has removed many of the ob-
noxious features which were encountered
before the passage of the law. The com-
mission acts as an umpire in settling dis-
putes, and co-operates with the companies
in promoting conditions that are calcu-
lated to improve the service. A very
annoying feature in telephone operation
has been eliminated in that all free and
reduced rate service is absolutely pro-
hibited by the public-utility law. Another
advantage of the commission supervision
has been the compulsory promotion of
good business methods in the conduct of
all utility enterprises. Not all of the small
telephone companies were capable of main-
taining special departments with highly
trained experts, but by adopting uniform
methods of keeping the accounts it has
become possible for the smaller com-
panies to get a considerable measure of
the benefit of the experience gained by the
larger companies. All matters in dispute
are brought before the commission and
thoroughly considered, not as a matter of
litigation, not as a matter of controversy
or conflict, but as a matter for calm con-
sideration and investigation and the recom-
mendation of the commission is generally
accepted as the best solution of the matter
in dispute. It should be stated that the
Bell interests in Wisconsin have absolute
confidence in the honesty and integrity
of the commissioners; and the commission-
ers are frank in stating that their recom-
mendations are promptly complied with
by the company. Hence, a spirit of har-
mony prevails which incites energetic de-
velopment on the part of the company
which makes the service more attractive
and valuable to the people of the state.
The number of companies that are
classified as independent in Wisconsin
exceed five hundred; but the term "in-
dependent" is misleading because of the
fact that over four hundred and fifty of
these companies are either working under
sub-licensee contracts or have connecting
arrangements with the Wisconsin Tele-
phone Company, and therefore are to a
280
RECENT PROGRESS IN TELEPHONY
practical extent a part of the Bell system.
Over eighty Wisconsin companies joined
the Bell system in 1909.
The wise policy which has character-
ized the operations of the Wisconsin Tele-
phone Company during the past three
years has placed that company in an ex-
cellent business condition. Alonzo Burt,
president of the company, has gained the
confidence of the people of the state and
the future of the Bell interests in Wiscon-
sin seems to be very encouraging.
THE TELEPHONE IN THE
NORTHWEST
In the Northwest, which territory is
controlled by the Northwestern Telephone
Exchange Company, with headquarters at
Minneapolis, some radical changes have
taken place during the past two years.
During the pioneer days of the telephone,
many things had to be learned in the dear
school of experience, and the problem in
the states of Minnesota, North and
South Dakota had many features of its
own.
In the early nineties the promoters of
independent telephone companies reaped
a rich harvest in several of the states of
the Northwest . Competing companies were
organized as fast as the promoters could
get to the different cities. The Bell in-
terests were confronted on every side with
a poisoned public mind, and the work of
development under the difficulties in these
sparsely settled states was discouraging
in the extreme. But back of the Bell Com-
pany in the northwestern territory were
men of indomitable will and courage —
men who had learned valuable lessons in
perseverance as soldiers in the Civil War
and who never believed that defeat was
possible. But nevertheless, the indepen-
dent promoters carried fat purses and suc-
ceeded in inflicting upon the people in
many cities a business condition that has
been a positive nuisance — a dual telephone
system. True, a large number of these
independent organizations have passed out
of existence and remain only as a matter of
painful history to a great many well-mean-
ing, but misguided business men.
The experience of Sioux Falls, South
Dakota, might be mentioned as an illus-
tration of what has happened in a number
of cities of that territory. With a few
local business men a promoter built a
telephone plant, issuing about $180,000
in bonds and a like amount of stock. To
make the bonds sell readily, a share of
stock, par. value $100, was given with
each $100 bond. The Company was a
failure from the beginning. The rates were
too low and the management poor, and
in a very short time defaulted on the
interest on its bonds. Acting for its bond-
holders, the Royal Trust Company of
Chicago, trustee for the bondholders,
brought a foreclosure suit. A sale of the
plant was finally ordered and the property
was sold for $94,700. Here is a lesson:
a telephone property, barely five years
old, capitalized for $180,000 stock and
$180,000 bonds, brings as a going concern
only twenty-five cents on the dollar of
its alleged value. This is only one of many
similar instances that might be mentioned.
A very recent illustration of disappoint-
ment in independent telephone ventures
is the experience of some Winona business
men who were induced some years ago
to aid in the attempt to "down Bell
monopoly." After a period of discouraging
effort, the plant was sold to the North-
western Telephone Exchange Company,
the Bell subsidiary. When the indepen-
dent company was purchased the officials
of the company put into effect some con-
ditions of operation that seem to have con-
siderable merit from a business standpoint.
The rates of both companies to business
houses were $2.50 per month. Both plants
were kept in operation at these figures,
but subscribers to one system were per-
mitted to talk to subscribers of the other
by paying an extra charge of five cents.
New subscribers in the city could only get
one service — that is, a service which cov-
ered both exchanges, and the business rate
for complete connections was fixed at
$3.50 per month. To show the senti-
ment of the people toward the two
telephones, it might be stated that hun-
dreds of business men immediately took
the $3.50 per month service, and the com-
plete consolidation is only a matter of a
very short time. The people are getting
tired of a dual system; they are no longer
willing to be led by the "down with monop-
AS THROUGH THE LAND AT EVE WE WENT
281
oly" agitators, and the question of prac-
tical business results is of vastly more
importance to the average merchant today
than any sentimental dread that one tele-
phone company will ultimately furnish
the people of this country with service.
It is apparent that the Northwestern
Telephone Exchange Company began a
period of systematic and intelligent opera-
tion two years ago that has been not only
of great advantage to the public, but a
source of considerable economy for the
company. In the cities of Minneapolis
and St. Paul the company had fifteen dif-
ferent rates to offer a subscriber. Now
only two rates exist, and these apply to
one and two party line service. All mea-
sured rate service has been discontinued,
and the $1.50 nickel telephones for busi-
ness and residence were abolished. Per-
haps these radical changes incited some
opposition on the part of a certain portion
of the residents, and were the means of
retarding to some extent the telephone
development of the Twin Cities, but a
good gain in the Company's list of sub-
scribers was made nevertheless, and the
increased revenue, on account of the de-
creased expenses, has enabled the Company
to set aside a reserve fund for improve-
ment and greater efficiency in service that
is, and will be, a source of gratification
to the people of these cities.
The independent companies are making
no gains. In Mankato the independent
concern ventured an advance in its rates,
but most of the companies are trying to
operate under the inadequate rates which
were established when the promoters told
the people that practically everything is
profit. The Northwestern Telephone Ex-
change Company has not hesitated to
advance the rates in places where the peo-
ple demanded the highest type of service,
and the advances have been cheerfully
met by the public.
The states of Minnesota, North and
South Dakota are exceedingly well de-
veloped in telephone construction. In
these states the 'Northwestern Telephone
Exchange Company, including the sub-
licensees, has 177,813 stations, a gain of
56,186 stations during the past two years.
The company has sub-licensee contracts
with 570 local and farmers' telephone com-
panies. It encourages and stimulates the
organization of these farmers' and local
companies, and lends them all possible
aid in building their lines and exchanges.
Mr. C. P. Wainman, vice-president of the
Northwestern Telephone Exchange Com-
pany, has the distinction of being one of the
•oldest telephone men in the United States.
He first started in Cleveland in 1876, and in
1886 went to Minneapolis, and has been with
the Bell Company in that city ever since.
AS THROUGH THE LAND AT EVE WE WENT
AS through the land at eve we went,
And plucked the ripened ears,
We fell out, my wife and I.
Oh, we fell out, I know not why,
And kissed again with tears.
And blessings on the falling out
That all the more endears,
When we fall out with those we love
And kiss again with tears!
For when we came where lies our child
We lost in other years,
There above the little grave,
Oh, there above the little grave,
We kissed again with tears.
— Alfred Tennyson, in the book "Heart Throbs."
HIS MASTERPIECE
By WESLEY EARLY
A^ONG in the early eighties, Emory A.
Storr was the leading lawyer of the
Chicago bar, but like some other noted
men, he contracted the drinking habit to
such an extent that he lost nearly all of
his valuable clients ; on account of this sad
state of affairs he was compelled to become
associate counsel to other lawyers who were
far inferior in the matter of legal learning
and ability, and thus received uncertain
fees for his services.
During this stage of Mr. Storr's career,
John B. Gough, the famous temperance
orator, delivered a certain lecture en-
titled "An Apostrophe to Water," which
was regarded as a classic. Mr. Storr read
this lecture of Cough's, and one day while
assisting in the trial of a case in one of
the Chicago courts, was asked by another
lawyer if he had read Cough's " Apostrophe
to Water," and if so, what he thought of
it. Storr replied that he had read the
lecture and that he thought it grand and
beautiful, but that he also thought he
could excel Mr. Cough's effort. Storr
walked up and down by the side of the
long table used in court rooms in that day
and time, for the accommodation of
attorneys, studying very intensely for a
few minutes, when he suddenly halted
near one end of the table, on which stood a
pitcher of ice water. He took up the pitcher
of water and poured out a glass full, set
the pitcher down on the table and holding
up the filled glass, turned and faced the
lawyers and proceeded to deliver ex-
temporaneously a world's masterpiece on
temperance sentiments, couched in words
sublime, heaven inspired, caught up from
oblivion by the pen of a loitering court
stenographer.
"TO A GLASS OF WATER"
"How do you expect to improve upon
the beverage furnished by nature? Here
it is, Adam's ale, about the only gift that
has descended undefiled from the Garden
of Eden. Nature's common carrier, not
created in the rottenness of fermentation,
nor distilled over guilty fires. Not born
among the hot and noxious vapors and
gases of worms and retorts, confined in
reeking vats, placed in clammy barrels
and kegs, stored in malarious cellars full
of rats and cobwebs. No adulteration
fills it with sulphuric acid, spirits of nitre,
stramonium or other deadly drugs and
poisons, until it is called forty-rod death,
bug juice, fusil oil and Jersey lightning.
"It is not kept standing in the fumes of
sour beer, tobacco smoke and saloon,
exposed for weeks and months, before it
is drunk to the odor of old cigar stubs
and huge spittoons.
"Virtues, and not vices, are its com-
panions. Does it cause drunkenness,
disease, death, cruelty to women and
children? Will it place rags on the person,
mortgages on the stock, farm and furni-
ture? Will it consume wages and income
in advance and ruin men in business?
"No: But it floats in white gossamer
clouds, far up in the quiet summer's sky
and hovers in dreamy mists over the merry
faces of all our sparkling lakes. It piles
itself in tumbled masses of cloud domes
and thunder heads; it draws the electric
flash from its mysterious hiding place, and
seams and shocks the wide air, with vivid
lines of fire.
"It veils the woods and hills of earth's
landscapes in a purple haze, where filmy
lights and shadows drift, hour after hour.
It is carried by kind winds, and falls in
rustling curtains of liquid drapery over
all the thirsty fields and woods, and fixes
in God's mystic eastern heavens His
beautiful bow of promise, glorified with a
radiance that seems reflected out of
heaven itself.
"It gleams in the frost crystals of the
mountain tops and the dews of the valley.
It is here in the grass blades of the meadow
and there where the corn is waving its
STAR ISLAND CHURCH
tassels and the wheat is billowing. It ered old oaken well bucket in a countless
silently creeps up to each little leaf in the host of happy homes,
myriad forests of the world and feeds and "See these pieces of cracked ice, full of
tints each fruit and flower. It gems the prismatic colors, clear as diamonds. Listen
depths of the desert with its glad green to their fairy tinkle against the brimming
oasis, winds itself in oceans round the glass, the sweetest music in all the world,
whole earth, and roars its hoarse eternal to one half fainting with thirst. And so
anthems on a hundred thousand miles of in the language of poor old man Gough,
coast. It claps its hands in the flashing I ask you brothers all, would you exchange
wave-crests of the sea, laughs in the rapids this sparkling glass of water for alcohol,
of the little brooks, kisses the moss-cov- the very drink of the devil himself?"
STAR ISLAND CHURCH
(Isles of Shoals)
By EDNA DEAN PROCTOR
RAY as the fog- wreaths over it blown
When the surf beats high and the caves make moan,
Stained with lichens and stormy weather,
The church and the scarred rocks rise together;
And you scarce may tell, if a shadow falls,
Which are the ledges and which the walls.
By the sombre tower, when daylight dies,
And dim as a cloud the horizon lies,
I love to linger and watch the sails
Turn to the harbor with freshening gales,
Till yacht and dory and coaster bold
Are moored as safe as a flock in fold.
White Island lifts its ruddy shine
High and clear o'er the weltering brine,
And Boone and Portsmouth and far Cape Ann
Flame the dusk of the deep to span;
And the only sounds by the tower that be
Are the wail of the wind and the wash of the sea.
Gray as the fog-wreaths over it blown
When the surf beats high and the caves make moan,
Stained with lichens and stormy weather,
The church and the scarred rocks rise together;
And you scarce may tell, if a shadow falls,
Which are the ledges and which the walls.
Copyrighted, 1905, by Edna Dean Proctor
Upconscious
of
id
JIM
Fly mi -\Vaytve
QERHAPS the observant citizen
has noticed that at the cashiers'
desks in a large number of the
city restaurants nowadays is
placed a goodly quantity of gum for sale
as a postprandial delicacy. This has been
done in response to a rapidly growing
demand on the part of the people. They
have been educated up to the fact that a
piece of gum chewed for a time after each
meal is good for the digestion, and takes
the place (especially that with the dis-
tinctively pleasant flavor) of the tra-
ditional dessert, in a great many cases.
This desire for something to mull over after
lunching is a perfectly natural one, and
when it becomes a substitute for the cigar
or pipe, or what is acknowledged most
disgusting, the chew of tobacco, positively
takes its position as a modern reform in
the movement for better health and clean-
liness. The average man who is breaking a
long-established habit of tobacco-chewing,
or who is tapering off on his smoking turns
to gum-chewing as naturally as though it
were the prescription written out for him
by a high -price specialist.
The attractive manner in which chewing
gum is now prepared for sale has perhaps
also had something to do with its growing
favor. A man can get this very essence
of finest flavor and carry it around in his
vest pocket against that time when his
taste craves a bouquet for the teeth. It
isn't at all uncommon nowadays to hear
a man say "Have a chew?" instead of
"Have a cigar?" and instead of going
into a cigar case for some long, black
cigars, bring from the depths of his vest
pocket a choice-flavored bit of gum, neatly
wrapped after the most approved sanitary
methods and manufactured under the
watchful eye of the pure-food require-
ments. It is the more remarkable that
men have come to look with favor upon
the gum delicacy, because it is supposed
that the ladies have always enjoyed it.
The old prejudice against gum-chewing,
caused by the incessant manner in which
a few persons kept their jaws continually
in motion is passing away. Everything
can be overdone — even exercise. Modern
gum-chewing does not come under the
head of a bad habit. It is a beneficial
exercise for the teeth, cleansing the mouth
after eating and giving a comfortable
feeling that makes meals "set well."
It was in Chicago that the writer's at-
tention was called particularly to the post-
prandial feature of gum-chewing, and
(284)
THE UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE OF "JIM"
285
this has been notice^ since in every large
city visited. No doubt the same could
v 3 said of the smaller cities by anyone who
is observant.
It was after one of those economical but
wholesome lunches that I was standing
before the cigar case of a medium-priced
restaurant studying the different brands
on display to catch some familiar name
before making a choice — when a bustling
business man and his friend came up and
as he paid the cashier for the two dinner
checks which he held in his hand, his friend
made the old proposition "Well, what do
leaves a good taste in the mouth. From
lunch the idea has spread to dinner, and
from dinner to breakfast, and now it is
a fixed habit to chew a bit of the delicious
bouquet for the teeth after each meal.
The cigars may come later after the
dinner, but never after lunch, because the
city lunch has become more helpful for
a good afternoon's work since "Jim"
made that remark about "no dope" which
I chanced to hear. He may read this
little article and nod his head in approval,
all unconscious of the fact that he furnished
the text, for the work of men which some-
"Have one of these on me, there's no dope in this to make yr-u dezpy
after you get back to the office"
you smoke, Jim?" and joined me in looking
over the attractive array of cigars.
"Don't smoke, Walt, not after lunch."
Then he took up a package of Spearmint,
"Have one of these on me, there's no dope
in this to make you sleepy after you get
back to the office." He threw the cashier
another nickel and as they left both were
removing the wrapper from the sticks of
gum, while "Jim" kept up a running fire
of information as to the reason for taking
a chew of gum after his lunch instead of
the traditional cigar. "Jim" does not
know it, but he made one other convert to
the plausibility of completing a lunch by
a cleansing exercise of the teeth that
times carries the greatest influence is
done unconsciously — evil as well as good.
Since "Jim" awakened that new thought
I have observed closely this growing favor
toward gum -chewing among the men.
It is simply the outgrowth of a little
common sense, applied regardless of what
may have been early prejudices.
"Have a chew?" nowadays means the
acceptance of a dainty morsel of distinc-
tive flavor to roll over the tongue and teeth,
instead of a black piece of tobacco — at
least nine times out of ten it means this.
The growing generation has taken it up —
and that means the more rapid general
acceptance of a beneficial idea.
OVLR,
readers who have attempted
to wade through technical re-
views of Grand Opera, in which
the vicissitudes and triumphs of
Messrs. Hammerstein, Russell and Dip-
pel, scores of foreign singers, dramatists
and operas "have been discussed in the
"of-course-you-know-all -about -it" manner,
we believe that Mr. Wilson's article,
"The Musical Season in America" in
this month's NATIONAL, will be a distinct
relief — simple and readable, yet enter-
taining and instructive.
Grand Opera in America these past
few years has become so important a
field that no person of culture can afford
to be without at least a passing knowledge
of the men and events that have made
prominent this wonderful work.
We think that Mr. Wilson, in his re-
sume, has given our readers something
vastly different from the ordinary, per-
functory discussion of Grand Opera, and
we feel sure that his future articles will
be given a welcome.
* * *
E of our Canadian readers says he
was utterly surprised at the wonders
of Arkansas, as shown forth in our Arkan-
sas number issued last September. His
words are only a sample of the many let-
ters we are receiving from all parts of the
world concerning, not only Arkansas, but
Georgia, Florida, Oklahoma and other
states we have given publicity lately. The
state write-up feature of the NATIONAL
will be continued every month or so until
the entire union has been covered. Our
Canadian friend writes as follows :
"When I received the Arkansas number
of the NATIONAL MAGAZINE, I did not
think there was enough of interest in that
State to pay one to devote his busy time
to reading it. But taking a second look
at it, I chanced to see that Frank P. Fogg
had written several chapters. Say, I was
then interested 'for fair,' as they say up
here.
"When I followed you through those
counties, I found myself with a wholly
changed notion of the 'Joke of the South-
west.' Such articles are worth — shall I
say it? — millions of dollars to the State
of Arkansas. I know that is extravagant
and that they can be produced for a whole
lot less, even charging ten point at pica
rates; but were such articles not written,
I and the rest of the world would just go
on looking upon Arkansas as the 'Joke
of the Southwest/
"Why, I am utterly surprised at the
wonders of that State. I did not know
it had diamonds — other than the 'black'
variety — and not so great an area of that
did I think it held until you told me.
"I like the way you tell of a country,
one can so readily follow you. The
NATIONAL is doing a great work. It puts
the various parts of our country in touch
with all other parts — it makes us ac-
quainted with each other — it takes us to
visit our furthest sister states, pays all
our expenses of travel, and boards us
while there. It gets down the family
album and shows us pictures we had never
before thought existed — it tells us things
about the family — pretty things which
please us and make us love the family
better. Yours truly,
"ANSON A. GARD, Toronto, Caria."
ONAL
Z I N E
JANUARY, 1911
EUPS
INGTON
H
Joe Mitche
E procession was passing — in
the ranks were officials who felt
the force of the "landslide" to
which the Culebra breaks at
Panama were mere incidents. The search-
light of public interest was thrown full
upon them as they entered the portals of
the White House; there was something
lacking in the old-time jaunty stride
across the threshold — something signifi-
cant in attire as well as in manner. Senator
Burkett of Nebraska entered wearing a
brilliant red cravat, emblematic, some
opined, of buoyant hope in elections to
come. Uncle Joe Cannon, soon to retire
from the Speaker's chair and join the
rank and file of the "X Society" of alge-
braic lore, does not remain an unknown
quantity: with cigar atilt and eyes
atwinkle, he seemed to be the same
"Uncle Joe" — ready to do things — wearing
a new sombrero. Congressman Alexander
was there to discuss the Rivers and
Harbors Bill with estimates running far
into the millions; and with a quizzical
look, he took some time to explain about
that one missing vote which resulted in
his defeat. Congressman Bennett of New
York was taking matters philosophically
and insisted that the "magazines exploded"
his hopes over New York way, although
he ran several thousand votes ahead of
his ticket.
Various members of the Cabinet were
hurrying in their sacrificial estimates on
appropriations for the executive pruning-
knife, for alas, the "pork barrel" is to be
shorn of its ancient fair proportions at
the coming session unless a Democrat-
insurgent combine over-rides the presi-
dential policy.
The new executive offices have some-
thing of the spacious area of a resort
hotel. The visitors sitting about appeared
to be mutely following the New York
restaurant law, "Watch your overcoats
and hats" as they awaited their turn to
pass into the circular room where the
President receives, and from which he
had to retreat to the seclusion of the
White House proper, where the trouble-
some paragraphs were forged, recast,
polished and booked for the annual
message.
* * *
E corner of the Executive Office has
been set aside by Secretary Norton
for certain visitors; it is already locally
known as the "Lame Duck Alley," where
a number of Congressmen and Senators
who were defeated in the last election
are ushered in when they come to see the
(285)
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
President and explain the situation. When
Vice-President Sherman stepped in to
look over the assembly, wreathed in one
of his sunniest smiles, he simply remarked :
"I don't think it's quite large enough."
After such a hard-fought contest, there
seemed to be very few dejected mourners
among the defeated. They all agreed
to "take the consequences" cheerfully
and "get together" for the next time. One
of the defeated Representatives, when tell-
SENATOR DUNCAN V. FLETCHER
Senator from Florida
ing "how it happened" said cheerily, "It
was a good deal like that story that's been
going the rounds lately.
"They were examining a witness at an
inquest over the body of a negro named
Henry, who had been killed by a train.
'Sam,' said the coroner, 'what do you
know about this accident to Henry?'
" 'Not much, sah.'
" 'Tell us what you know, Sam, in your
own way.'
" 'It wuz dis way,' explained Sam.
'You see, boss, I wuz stan'in' on de stashun
platfawm wif Henry, an' Numbah Five
wuz chalk up kindah late on de bode.
I lef Henry an' went roun' de stashun
foh a li'l' dram. When I come back, boss,
Numbah Five done gone by, an' I stahted
up de track to go home. Artah a li'l'
ways, I come 'cross a laig. Den a li'l' ways
on I fin's 'nothah laig. Den I stumbles
'g'inst a haid. It wuz Henry's haid.'
"Sam had ended the grim narrative,
but the coroner asked another question:
" 'Well, Sam, what did you do then?'
" 'Well, boss,' replied Sam, 'I thought—
wal, I sez tuh mahself, 'Somethin' mus'
done happen tuh Henry.' "
A GLOOM that suggested the blackness
**• of the Styx fell over Washington
when President James J. Hill gave out
that famous interview which predicted
idleness for thousands and a panic wide-
spread— */— and then if. The only fault
that Mr. Hill found with the report of that
interview was as to its veracity. He had
been at the Capital a few days previous,
and had told the President some plain
truths as he saw them in reference to the
railroad financial situation.
Now when Mr. Hill raises his bushy
eyebrows and his black eyes snap, some-
thing terse and positive is anticipated,
but later reports indicate that the blue
streak and the dark shadows athwart
Mr. Hill's prophecy were not painted in
the original picture. His rejoinder was
a ringing response full of optimistic and
cheerful hope, chords that vibrate quite
another tune upon'the harp.
It is curious how an inflection on a few
words or a look in saying them, may be
interpreted. Often it makes all the dif-
ference between yea or nay in an answer
to important queries. But it is the
American habit, no matter how black the
horizon may seem, to insist that the sun
is going to continue in its course and rise
on the morrow. Somehow the keen,
never-dying hopes of the people will
always sustain the seer whose prophecies
declare the ultimate and triumphant suc-
cess of American policies.
President McCrea of the Pennsylvania
Railroad was a more recent caller on
President Taft, and in walking with him
across the White House grounds, one
could appreciate the force of his crisp
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
287
interview that "Business is marking
time." And he illustrated the time to
mark with decisive steps.
'T'HE passing of Mrs. Mary Baker G.
* Eddy, the founder and head of
the Christian Science creed, is deeply
mourned far and near, and
the influence of her life
and labors has been felt
far beyond the confines of
the sect which she founded.
In spite of all the tempes-
tuous struggles incidental
to establishing her creed,
she lived to see the triumph
of the ideas which she rep-
resented among millions in
all parts of the world.
How vividly I recall that
day at Concord when she
appeared in public and from
a balcony inspired every
hearer by her very presence
as she greeted thousands of
Christian Science followers
who gathered on the lawn
at Pleasant View, to look
upon the beloved face of
their leader. Later in the
day it was my privilege to
be a guest in the parlor
of her quiet home and take
from her a message which,
though written, had all the
glow and fervor of a per-
sonal greeting. What a
charming little parlor — it
seemed so homelike, so
quaint, so befitting the sim-
plicity of the owner!
The splendid "Mother
Church" at Boston and
other fine edifices through-
out the country are indeed impressive mon-
uments to her memory and life work. Her
book, "Science and Health," was found to
be one of the ten most popular and ap-
preciated books of the country in the test
made some years ago by the NATIONAL
MAGAZINE among its readers, a fact to
which Mrs. Eddy personally called atten-
tion when bitter attacks were made upon
the volume as not constituting permanent
literature. She expressed her appreciation
of the NATIONAL'S fair treatment in a pub-
lic announcement.
Her death was reported as peaceful and
worthy of a great teacher. Up to within
five days before the end, she was in personal
touch with all her world of effort and in-
spiration, and her last message, "God is
THE LATE MRS. MARY BAKER EDDY
my life," reflects the sentiment which
sustained her. Whatever else may be
said of her creed, it has radiated happiness
and content, and in many instances has
transformed the discouraged and dis-
heartened into happy, hopeful and help-
ful men and women. When the history
of the nation is written in generations to
come, the life-work of Mary Baker G.
Eddy will be considered an important
288
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
element and remarkable incident of the
psychical and religious development of
the Nineteenth Century, not only in
America, but throughout the world.
When he caught his breath he was two blocks
up the avenue
A NEWLY elected Senator
**• came on early to Wash-
ington to arrange for rooms,
and had an object lesson fur-
nished him on "the High
Cost of Living" — the winning
slogan in the recent campaign.
He wanted to start in "with
the swim" and be at the center of things,
so he priced the "focusal" hotel.
"We make it $650 per month, two
rooms and bath, to you, Senator — without
meals," said the clerk dreamily. When
the Senator caught his breath, he was two
blocks up the Avenue.
» He tried another hotel; a moderately
exclusive house whose lobbies were a
sort of eddying] pool of statesmen and
" influential" lobbyists. To him the at-
tendant flamen of this gilded shrine
remarked: "Now, we have a choice
two rooms with bath, at $350 per month — "
"Without eating — just for a sleeping-
place!" broke in the Senator, "why, I'd
burn up with fever if I had to sleep at
that price!"
The salary of a Senator is $7,500, and
it is figured on the high level of "simple
living" in Washington that he ought to
part with that much for assured rest at
a good hotel. But the new Senator didn't
feel that way about it. Finally it was
suggested that he might take a room at
the simple hotel of the old days, at one
dollar per twenty-four hours, and save
money, using the parcel room for baggage
when away over Sunday. Then he could
take a peep at Peacock Alley and meet
friends in the "lobby" which the more
wealthy statesmen and tourists support.
The high cost of living is indeed some-
times a high fever and wasting decline
for those who must indulge in fluttering
about the high places where millionaires
pose impressively, while the music plays
and the incense ascends. The man or
woman who can face the charge of being
"a cheap skate" in Washington, while
"Without eating?" broke in the senator
honors roll upon him or her and fame
confers her aureole, is hard to find, even
among the lusty champions of the simple
life.
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
289
A GENIAL soul is Congressman Kahn—
•**• to that all are agreed in Washington,
in San Francisco, and everywhere that
Julius Kahn is known. He seems to have
about him that winning way that always
makes friends. His speeches ring with an
indefinable something that almost betrays
his former calling, for Congressman Kahn
twenty years ago was an actor, traveling
with Booth, Jefferson, the elder Salvini,
Clara Morris, Mr. and Mrs. W. J. Florence,
and other well-known theatrical celeb-
rities.
His tragic mien is left on the stage,
national Exposition at San Francisco,
which has been conducted with true Cali-
fornian energy and vigor. Everybody
helps in California, and the snapshot of
Congressman Kahn assisting the ladies
in the good cause of raising funds for this
exposition, is an indication of the esteem
in which the Congressman from California
is held by his constituents.
"""THERE were many moistened eyes
A when the Senate convened, as the as-
sembling legislators thought of the familiar
CONGRESSMAN JULIUS KAHN, OF CALIFORNIA, ADDRESSING HIS COLLEAGUES
WITH EXPOSITION POST CARDS
however, with his departure from the
footlights, as is the prescribed rule with
all good actor-folk, and in his everyday
work he gets down to the realities of life.
One of the first to stamp his foot upon
whisperings and abuse hurled upon the
heads of the founders of the country, he
called a halt upon indiscriminate criticism,
so often overlooked in the general indul-
gence to the carping cynic and critic.
To build up rather than to destroy is
Mr. Kahn's broad policy, and he takes
hold of things with an enthusiastic op-
timism. During the summer he has been
actively interested in the campaign for
the location of the Panama Pacific Inter-
faces missing. Death and retirement have
almost transformed the rank and file of
the stalwart leaders in the Senate Chamber.
The passing of such an orator as Dolliver,
and the absence of Beveridge and Depew,
will leave very few familiar orators in
Congress, a fact lamented by Hon. Champ
Clark in a recent article.
It will take several sessions to develop
much of the oratorical talent that may lie
latent in the new Congress. But while
people are entertained and sometimes
moved by oratory, it is a general rule that
popularity from mere grace of elocution
has seldom had much influence on the
votes of the people. Nevertheless, as the
290
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
power of eloquent delivery is an important
asset in making an impression upon a
select audience, it is of value to the member
of Congress who knows "what to say and
how to say it."
GEORGE OTIS DRAPER OP NEW YORK
Author of the book "More"
arrival at Washington was greeted
by one continuous, sustained, shrill
toot from a locomotive at the Union
Station. The whistle of a switch engine
had broken its valve, and the fierce toot-
toot could not be checked until all the
steam in the boiler was exhausted. For
over an hour it continued, and I wondered
if some great event were being celebrated
by the ceaseless scream, which seemed like
the cry of some great monster in distress.
Champ Clark insisted that it was only
the desire of the iron horse or "mule" to
give expression to its "neigh" against
Republican policies, and that it had sup-
planted the lusty crow of the Democratic
roosters giving their election greeting.
Or perhaps it was an expression of jubila-
tion over the recent election, which has
warmed the cockles of Democratic hearts
more than any other election of late years.
Everything that occurs in Washington
must perforce have its political significance,
whether it be the tooting of a demoralized
locomotive, the lifting of an eyebrow, or
an undignified fall on a slippery sidewalk.
When Uncle Joe Cannon and Champ Clark
met, there was an exchange of courtesy
that indicated mutual respect despite all
the acrimony of political warfare.
TTHE grim gray of early winter was
* lightened as the great lantern from
the Executive Mansion swung forth from
the porte-cochere announcing the gayeties
that ushered in a new White House
debutante. The big east room resounded
with cheery greetings and informal gossip
COL. H. B. HEDGE, Des Moines, la.
United States Pension Agent
as Vice-President and Mrs. Sherman,
members of the Cabinet and their wives,
legislators and the members of the diplo-
matic corps were received by the Presi-
dent and Mrs. Taft.
Flowers were in profusion everywhere;
even the messenger boy who left a parcel
MISS HELEN TAFT
292
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
at the cook's entrance came away with a
big pink in either buttonhole of his spick-
and-span uniform.
The advent into society of Miss Helen
has been a matter of deep interest in social
Washington for weeks, and many recep-
tions are being planned during the winter
in her honor. The debutante daughter
Snapshot by Clinedinst, Washington
CHIEF JUSTICE WHITE
Recently appointed by President Taft
of the President is a young lady of many
and varied accomplishments; she can
cook and sew quite as well as ride horse-
back and play tennis. She speaks both
French and Spanish fluently; and has
traveled widely. Blue-eyed, fair-haired,
athletic in build and amiable in manner,
Miss Taft is a typical American girl — and
just sensible all through.
TV/HERE'S Burgess?" I inquired at
** the St. James as I sat down at the
table and looked for his cheery black face.
The answer was ' a look — Burgess was
dead. His service as a waiter dated back
to the war, and his smiling visage, defer-
ence and gentleness will be remembered
by many of the guests when more promi-
nent men are forgotten. Never was there
a time that his dear old face did not fairly
shine with kindly interest in everyone's
welfare, and how he could anticipate the
wants of those he knew! His waiting
always seemed to be a labor of love rather
than for "tips." He would fairly race
back and forth to the kitchen that things
might not get "col' an' unpal'table," but
alas, with all his thoughtfulness and
innate good-nature, Burgess grew gray
and old and feeble, and his muscles
twitched "as he tried to keep up the pace.
Gifted with an easy, rich dialect, Burgess
always had an interested group to listen
to his after-dinner yarns. It was from
Him that I heard the story of the young
couple who were visiting in Washington
some years ago, and read on a printed
notice in one of the "ultra" hotels that
eating meals in the rooms would not be
permitted, with a hint that the cafe was
on the first floor. The young folks had
brought along a luncheon of chicken, such
as no Washington hostelry could furnish,
so they quietly turned the key in their
door and ate.
The only question was what to do with
the bones, for the maid would shortly
be in the room. Now, chicken-bones could
not* be thrown out on a public thorough-
fare, so it was decided to do them up nicely
in a neat paper package and take them
downstairs, where they could be carried
to an isolated spot and left forever.
Perhaps the bundle was borne below a bit
too carefully, or shifted too often from
one hand to the other to avoid the clerk's
eagle eye, but his suspicions were aroused
that hotel laundry was being smuggled
out, and gallantly he took the package
by the string. One unruly drumstick
peeped through.
How Burgess used to chuckle as he
concluded: "Dat scene, sah, Ah nevah
can fo'get. The gen'man, he jes' couldn'
explain hisself, an' the clerk he jes' laff
an' laff an' laff. An' we all laff edj"
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
293
ClXJY leading architects from all over
*•* the country have been invited to sub-
mit designs for the new buildings to be
erected in Washington in the vicinity of
the Treasury Department for the Depart-
ments of State, Justice and Commerce
and Labor. The style is to be classical —
as naturally befits the buildings of the
government — and the new structures are
to conform with the best public buildings
already in the Capital city. This stipula-
tion "classical" in reality gives a suf-
ficiently wide latitude on which the archi-
tects may base their plans; for although
the architecture of Washington is in general
general harmony. Only two months have
been allowed for the preparation of plans,
and those chosen will undoubtedly be put
into operation without delay.
ITE had dropped in to see a junior mem-
^ *• ber who was deep in the revision of a
speech — his maiden speech in the Halls
of Congress. The floor was a litter of
recopied pages, and the typewriter clicked
savagely on the other side of the room as
the tenth revise was ground out.
"What are you doing with the stuff?"
demanded the intruder.
VIEW ON RIVER NEAR THE ARKANSAS HOME OF OCTAVE THANET (MISS ALICE FRENCH)
classical, most of the government buildings
have modern features that rather lessen
than accentuate close imitation of the
architecture of the ancients, and embody
a modern individuality and beauty that
is in conformity with the progress of the
age.
With sixty prominent American archi-
tects participating in the competition,
there will without doubt be submitted as
many excellent designs, although it is
definitely announced that the competition
is to select architects rather than plans,
and that the "chosen few" whose designs
are decided upon will be called on to co-
operate with each other in order that the
three buildings may be brought into
"Putting it into English," growled the
youthful congressman tersely, as he deftly
put a line through "something should be
done at once," and carefully interpolated,
"it is imperative that radical conciliatory
measures should be pursued in the immedi-
ate future."
"My dear fellow," protested the older
man, "let me have that manuscript." He
glanced over the pages, groaning as he
happened on such phrases as "incompre-
hensible effusiveness" and "individualistic
idiosyncrasies."
"What do you think of it?" demanded
the author.
"Think of it! I think it's an awful mess
of jaw-breakers and word-juggling. You've
294
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
spoiled every possible point that you
wanted to make.
"I tell you," he mused, "the day of
English for effect is doomed. The tele-
graph companies made 'em say it the
shortest way, by basing their rates on
words, some years ago. But they didn't
The revision of his maiden speech in the halls of Congress
go far enough; they didn't do away with
jaw-breakers. Now here comes the cable
company with a new rate on five letters to
the word; and I say, three
cheers for them.
"My boy, you dig up your
first draft of that speech
and find out what you
really wanted to say. Con-
nect it up and make it
strong. Fancy it's a cable
on the five-letter basis.
'Brevity's the soul of wit,'
Bill Shakespeare- said. Well,
I say 'Brevity's the body
of sense.*
"Although I suppose," as
he reached the door and
flung back a parting shot,
it em-bod-i-ment."
had known and loved him during his
life.
Senator Elihu Root's address touched
every heart, as he eloquently dwelt on the
wonderful "bigness" of the man; his
words will be long preserved in the mem-
ories of those who were present. But the
American people need no ora-
tion to remind them of the
sterling character of him whose
ideals were expressed in his
lines of "Jim Bludso":
"He seen his duty, a dead-sure
thing —
And went fer it thar and then;
And Christ ain't going to be too
hard
On a man that died for men."
The library, which" is of
marble and will contain three
hundred thousand volumes,
was erected at a cost of
$300,000, half of which was
contributed by Mr. Andrew Carnegie.
People in every walk of life united in
raising the remaining $150,000. Friends
THE dedication of the Hay Memorial
Library at Brown College brought
together public officials, prominent edu-
cators and professional business men
from all over America, to do homage to
the memory of the late Secretary of
State. A throng of alumni and under-
graduates of Brown were gathered to
listen to the tributes paid to the renowned
son of their alma mater, by men who
'you'd call
Tickling the ears of a congressman in a street car
and admirers from all over the country
contributed generously that the Hay
Library might be fitting in every respect
to invite the student body of Brown into
the pursuits best loved by the late secre-
tary of state.
There are rooms for famous collections
of poetry, of international law, of literature
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
295
THE LATE JOHN HAY MAKING AN ADDRESS BEFORE THE INTERNATIONAL PEACE
CONFERENCE AT TREMONT TEMPLE, BOSTON, IN MAY, 1906
and other features, and the magnificent
structure will be an -enduring monument
to John Hay, whose combination of liter-
ary taste and skill, public spirit and whole-
heartedness made him indeed a represen-
tative "man among men."
""PHEY were talking over state politics
* at an informal gathering of Congress-
men, and the subject was Woodrow Wil-
son. "How did he do it?" was the general
query; and not a few shook their heads
as they reflected on disastrous election
bets against the "scholar in politics."
For the American people are reputed
to look askance at the savant who
sets out to capture even a petty judge-
ship, and that a college president — who
has composed literary essays and written
histories and is no politician at all accord-
ing to the prescribed rule — should so
completely take New Jersey by storm, is
something of a paradox.
296
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
The Wilson campaign was unique.
The gentlemanly professor did not throw
bombs into the camp of his opponent.
He did not vehemently attack the opposite
party and thunderingly accuse it of every
crime in the decalogue. He did not even
grandiloquently declaim himself a savior
GEORGE E. ROBERTS
Director of the Mint, Washington, D. C.
of the poor, common people. But he won;
and the victory of this "amateur" has set
many a practised politician to thinking.
"Oh, that's all right," admitted a
radical M. C. of the "rip-'em-to-bits"
variety, "but think of campaigning a la
Wilson among the farmers in G— — or
B — — . They'd think you were hand
in glove with the other fellow if you
didn't call him a liar and a thief; and
they don't understand anything but cuss
words."
"May be so," said a brother member
prophetically, "but it may happen that
within a couple of years Woodrow'll be
out that way to decide that matter for
himself."
A TALK with returning congressmen
**• and their secretaries and the residue
of those well informed on matters political
throughout the country, discloses one
impressive fact: that admiration for the
administration of President Taft is grow-
ing stronger every day all over the country.
Members of both Houses are especially
friendly to the President, who seems to
have a faculty for getting what he asks for,
as his requests are always reasonable.
Many of the insurgent Republicans,
who felt very secure at home, are re-
turning a bit anxious about the future of
the party, realizing that Republican
ANTON WITEK
The noted grand opera conductor
supremacy has been put to a severe test
in the recent election. Republicans of
all shades of opinion are commending the
President for going his way and attending
strictly to business during the tension
of factional disputes. He has a way,
too, of standing firmly and loyally by his
friends and associates; and his plans are
submitted in a broad and comprehensive
way that is commensurate with his capa-
bility in the executive chair. His influence
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
297
with the representatives of foreign powers
is equally evidenced by his popularity
among the diplomatic corps.
No representative of any country has
ever hesitated in going to President Taft,
realizing that a full hearing and a just
verdict will be granted. While it was
feared that his temperament might ob-
scure his executive ability, yet the com-
ment of the returning members from all
parts of the country indicates that Presi-
dent Taft will enter the third year of his
presidency with as satisfactory and sub-
stantial support as any other President has
been accorded.
The American tourist who wishes to
extend his automobile trip into Canada
can procure a permit from the authorities
to remain within the port of importa-
tion and its vicinity for not more than
three days.
The owner of an auto, not connected
with any automobile business, and de-
siring to enter Canada "for touring pur-
poses only," can secure a permit good for
three months on depositing twenty-five
dollars, and executing a bond for double
the amount of the appraised duties, signed
by himself and two residents of Canada,
or by the importer and a resident of
THE SCHOOLHOUSE IN MONTPELIER, VERMONT, WHERE ADMIRAL DEWEY WAS
EDUCATED. NOW USED AS A DWELLING HOUSE
AMERICAN automobiles have become
more and more popular on European
roads as tourists realize the advantages of
sight-seeing tours abroad by motor. Much
of the "red tape" necessitated in crossing
boundary lines will be eliminated ' with
the issuance of the international traveling
certificate, which is honored by most
European countries through special ar-
rangement of the Touring Club of America
with leading automobile associations in
Europe including the Automobile Asso-'
ciation of London and the Touring Club
of France. The certificates may be secured
before leaving this country.
Canada, who has deposited the general
guarantee of a Canadian guarantee com-
pany, or the special bond of such a guaran-
tee company.
The deposit of twenty-five dollars will
be returned, and the bond cancelled upon
return of the permit with official proof of
the return of the auto to the United States
within three months; otherwise, the de-
posit is forfeited and the bond enforced.
Tourists coming into Canada should be
provided with an invoice showing the
selling price of the automobile, and the
date, place and from whom the purchase
was made.
298
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
A QUERY that never fails when the
•*"• traveler returns from a first trip
abroad is, "What did you like best?" or
"What interested you most?" Imagine
my surprise when a lady declared to a
company of friends that after four months
of very comprehensive European sight-
seeing, the object that most impressed
her was Napoleon's hat.
It is still shown at Fontainebleau, just
Photo byLippincoU
ARTHURTE. STILWELL
President, Kansas City, Mexico & Orient Railway Co.
Author of "Confidence or National Suicide," an arti-
cle concerning which will be found in the Publishers'
department in this issue of the NATIONAL
as it was worn by the sturdy little Corsican
as he was painted in that familiar pose
with his hand behind. Napoleon's hat
has an air of distinction, insisted the lady;
with a brim fully twelve inches wide, it
would seem almost to rival in breadth
the "Mikado" shape worn by the ladies of
today. Of black beaver, the hat isfa true
reflection of the fastidious taste of the
"Little Emperor," and, indeed, it was its
personality that had so fascinated the
visitor, aside from the never-failing interest
of womankind in headgear.
Who can say how many styles and
fashions affected by the ladies originated
from the broad-brimmed beaver of
Bonaparte, with its turned-up flap? Of
course one is willing to concede that
it may have had its uses in this direction,
but that a lady should wax eloquent in a
tribute to Napoleon's ancient headgear is
almost amusing.
And yet why should, not a survey of this
hat, after all, appeal as strongly to the
thoughtful beholder as any other relic
of the great Emperor? Under its brim
was a head that carried the fate of all
Europe in its plans for a great empire.
Why not a hat, then, as well as a chair
or an image in marble? For surely no
other part of the wardrobe is so close to
the brain, the controlling force of great
careers.
All of which may result in a startling
furor for collecting hats of famous men.
""THE Everglade State certainly has
^ reason to be proud of her Governor,
Albert Waller Gilchrist, one of those whole-
souled, genial men who still maintains the
ti iditional hospitality and cavalier spirit
and courtesy of the South.
His father, General William E. Gil-
christ, was for years a State Senator in
Florida, and his only son was bora in
Greenwood, South Carolina, at the home
of his grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Albert
Waller, for whom he was named. General
Gilchrist, one of Florida's wealthiest
planters, died at the beginning of the
Civil War, and during the dark days that
followed, young Albert was reduced to
poverty, and began his career by working
hard on a salary of fifteen dollars per
month.
Later he was appointed to West Point,
where, as a member of the Class of '82, he
served in various honorary positions. In
1896, when he was General in the Florida
Militia, Grover Cleveland appointed him
a^member of the West Point Board of
• Visitors. At the beginning of the Spanish-
American War, he resigned the office of
Brigadier-General to become a private in
the Florida Volunteer Infantry, serving
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
299
at Santiago, Cuba. The following year,
having served part of the time as Acting
Major, he was mustered out of service
with the rank of Captain.
Governor Gilchrist was a member of
the House of Representatives of Florida
from De Soto County for four terms, serv-
ing as Speaker of the House during the
1905 session. He was elected Governor
of the Peninsula State in 1909 for the term
of four years.
Genealogists have traced the Governor's
ancestry through far-off grandfathers, to
both Washington and Madison. The
Waller family, his maternal ancestors,
settled in England at the time of the Con-
quest, the head of the family being one
of the one hundred noblemen who com-
posed the famed Wittenagemote of Wil-
liam the Conqueror.
It is said that his father once aspired
to the governorship of his state, and his
ambition could not have been more fully
gratified than through the excellent ad-
ministration of his son. The Governor
is a member of the Improved Order of
Red Men, Elks, Masons and of the S. A. E.
Greek Letter Fraternity, is socially popular
and has "a way with him" that may be
defined as personal magnetism. He has
never been married, and the books and
souvenirs constantly sent him by ad-
mirers, from all over the country, "for
Mrs. Gilchrist," are the source of no end
of amusement to his personal friends.
But the Governor doesn't mind. He
graciously accepts the gift himself, whether
it be a bit of a lace handkerchief or a
volume on woman suffrage, and indites
a note of appreciation to the sender
with a rather apologetic confession of his
bachelorhood.
VV7ASHINGTON is again a convert 'to
^* the old maxim, "In time of peace,
prepare for war," and much is said of the
necessity of greatly strengthening our
Pacific Coast defences. The opening of
the Panama Canal will assist in properly
guarding the Pacific Coast and Island
Colonies from a naval point of view, but
the War Department is hastening the work
of establishing and strengthening the
fortresses of our few Pacific cities. Since
his return from his world tour, Secretary
of War Dickinson has prepared a special
report on the Philippine Islands for the
President, who has always had a deep
personal interest in the welfare and prog-
ress of the islands ever since over ten
years ago, when President McKinley
appointed him President of the United
States Philippine Commission.
Much interest has been taken at the
War Department in the experiments with
high explosives on the upper works of the
Monitor Puritan. The little iron monitor
ALBERT WALLER GILCHRIST
Governor of Florida
seems to hold its own against almost every
kind of explosive, and to defy destruction
by dynamite dropped from the greatly
feared aeroplane. Air craft as thus far
developed would probably be of no great
efficiency in war so far as the destruction
of modern warships is concerned. A
bomb thrown from an airship at any
elevation over five thousand feet could
not be aimed with any accuracy, and at
this height any quick-firing gun would
certainly cripple and probably destroy the
aeroplane. And so the airship, after all,
cannot be exactly regarded as an important
factor in war, at least in its present em-
bryonic state.
J. M. DICKINSON, SECRETARY OF WAR
His annual report recommends a purchase of aeroplanes, and is the result of a flight made in one of the
French army machines in Paris
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
301
A STRIKING figure among the new
•*•• Congressmen who will answer to the
roll-call of the Sixty-second Congress, Judge
S. F. Prouty of Des Moines, Iowa, will
present the massive strength of character
that after four strenuous contests in the
primaries secured his nomination.
A typical "early settler," and except
for his comparative youth a pioneer, the
Judge, from earliest youth to mature
manhood, has been a typical representa-
tive of that class for which the Hawkeye
State has been famous — the self-made
man.
Gifted with that vein of pungent humor
that cuts its way through the glittering
chain mail of more polished opponents,
and a fearless fighter, the people of Iowa
have learned to be proud of their new
member from the Seventh District, who,
fifty-four years ago, came with his parents
by long and lonely roads from Ohio to
the lowan prairies, where his mother,
worn out with the weary journey, passed
away when almost in sight of the new
home.
Thrown upon his own resources at the
age of nine, Judge Prouty began to earn
his own living, and in the half-dozen
years succeeding often burned the mid-
night oil or home-made candle in the
little room where he familiarized himself
with the studies which fitted him, when
only sixteen, for an appointment as teacher
in the district school. His maiden speech
in Congress, under the dome of the Capitol,
avows the Judge, can never afford him
keener pleasure or greater pride than he
felt in that never-to-be-forgotten day
when in the little dingy schoolhouse he
marshalled his pupils and was greeted
with the time-honored title of "Teacher."
So, too, he loves to tell his friends of
the many long evenings spent in hard
study that he might enter Central Uni-
versity, and how, by assisting with janitor
work, he worked his way through college.
That such devotion should win honors
goes without saying; in 1877 he was the
class valedictorian, and won prizes in
the state and interstate competitions.
He was elected to the State Legislature
when twenty-four years of age, shortly
after his admission to the bar. His legal
ability soon commanded public recogni-
tion, and in his career as a judge of the
District Court, he made an enviable
record as a humane and just magistrate.
QUR good neighbor, the Canadian
^^ Government, is preparing to take her
census next June after the approved man-
ner of the American census, just completed.
Mr. E. S. McPhail, of the Census Bureau of
Canada, was in Washington for some days
in private conference with Chief Durand,
HON. S. F. PROUTY
Elected to Congress to succeed J. A. T. Hull from the
Des Moines (Iowa) district
and he was much impressed by the modern
American methods of census-taking.
Official estimates place the population
of Canada at eight million, almost a fifty
per cent increase over the figures of the
former census. Mr. McPhail expressed
his admiration for Yankee ingenuity in
the statement that he hoped this increase
was largely due to American immigration.
Across the border they are having
their own troubles over the vexed question
of the influx of Japanese, and the general
sentiment would indicate that definite
measures will soon be required to prohibit
Japanese "coolies" from settling along
the northern coast and monopolizing im-
portant fisheries and trading posts.
302
AFFAIRS. AT WASHINGTON
ADMIRAL ROBLEY D. EVANS
IT was a revelation to hear Admiral
* Evans tell of the chances in store for
the boy who enters the navy, for he
firmly believes that a graduate of the
navy's training-school has the best all-
round education of any man in America.
There is reason, too, for his enthusiasm.
Navy officers are constantly in demand
to fill responsible positions in industrial
and business lines; they seem to have a
thoroughness that the youth of ordinary
college training lacks. Perhaps the reason
that most of the graduates of the navy's
admirable course remain with the govern-
ment in preference to outside pursuits,
springs from the same loyalty that saved
Admiral Bob from becoming a steel
magnate.
When hard-pressed for a story, he will
tell with charming simplicity of why he
Courtesy of "NewBoston"
DETAIL OF THE GOVERNOR'S RECEPTION SCENE IN THE NOTABLE BOSTON-1915 CIVIC
PAGEANT, " CAVE LIVE TO CITY LIFE," ENACTED AT THE BOSTON ARENA, NOV. 10-12
Courtesy of "NewBoston"
SWEDISH DANCERS. ONE OF THE STRIKING FEATURES OF THE BOSTON-1915 PAGEANT
304
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
never left the government employ. It
seems that when he was the navy's steel
expert in 1888 a private corporation
sought his services. The young govern-
ment specialist thought it over.
He was an acknowledged steel expert.
In the government service, his personal
SENATOR LAFAYETTE YOUNG
ability would naturally be obscured from
the world's notice. On the other hand,
a connection with a steel corporation
would make him famous and rich. But
it was the government that had made him
the master of his art, and he felt that
his duty was to remain in its service.
"I have never been sorry," he will say
in conclusion, "even when I have heard
of other men who entered the business
and have become wealthy; for the friends
I have made during my service to the
navy are of more value to me than mil-
lions in steel."
The credit of converting public opinion
to the uplifting influence of the army and
navy, once referred to by a prominent
attorney as "the dumping ground for
failures," and its wonderful educational
advantages, belongs to such
men as loyal, great-hearted
"Fighting Bob."
HTHE appointment to the
* United States Senate of
Colonel Lafayette Young — or
"Lafe Young, Senior," as they
call him out Des Moines way
— was a happy solution of the
problem, "Who will succeed
Dolliver?"
State Senator for twelve
years in Iowa, the Colonel has
long been prominent in politi-
cal affairs, and his paper, the
Des Moines Capital, has had
no small influence in shaping
public sentiment. He is, in
fact, an old-time Republican
editor. He made the speech
nominating Theodore Roose-
velt for Vice-President at the
Philadelphia convention when
McKinley was named for a
second term, and has been
delegate -at -large at two Re-
publican national conventions.
Senator Young was a mem-
ber of the Taft party which
visited the Philippines, and
served as war correspondent
with Shafter's famous Cuban
campaign. After he returned
from the island he was in
constant demand as a speaker on the
Cuban situation, and gained for him-
self an enviable reputation for his
oratorical powers. Much of his time is
spent in travel, in order that the Capital
may be national in scope as well as in
influence.
A close personal friend of President
Taft and a man of sane and practical
convictions, Senator Young is looked upon
as a worthy successor to the late Senator
Dolliver.
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
305
DARRAMATTA, one of the largest
* estates along the North Shore, has
been leased by the President, and for at
least two more years Beverly will remain
the summer capital of the nation.
The mansion, which is situated on a hill
that overlooks the ocean, is of the modern-
ized Colonial type. The plan
of the interior seems to be
especially adapted to the re-
quirements of the Chief Execu-
tive, while on the spacious
grounds surrounding he may
golf to his heart's content.
The new estate is somewhat
more retired than his former
Beverly quarters; it is reached
by a private avenue and there
are no neighboring cottagers
to be annoyed by the throngs
who all through the summer
season betake themselves to
Beverly to "see the President's
house," cherishing the fond
hope of getting a glimpse of
his portly form in the pursuit of
some very human and homely
duty or relaxation.
"THE boys who in the old
* days worked their way
through college by "bucking
wood," will read with interest
the monograph by Mr. Pierson
of the Forest Service on the
yearly consumption of wood
as a fuel.
To feed the fires of fifty
millions of people thirty years
ago, one hundred and forty-six
million cords of firewood were
required, the price averaging
about $2.21 per cord. Coal
production amounted to
about seventy-one million short tons;
now it is six times that quantity.
Though the population of the country
has increased to ninety millions, the use
of wood as fuel has decreased not only
per capita, but in the aggregate — only
about eighty-six million cords of fire-
wood were consumed in 1908, a decrease
of nearly sixty million cords against a
forty-million increase in population.
The general feeling nowadays is that
the destruction of most woods for heating
purposes is uneconomical and wasteful;
yet certain of the present generation can
recall the time when black walnut, bird's-
eye maple and beautiful birch were con-
sumed for fuel, leaving only a heap of
LAFAYETTE YOUNG, JR.
Who conducts the destinies of the DCS Moines Capital when the
Senator is away, which is most of the time
ashes to tell the tale of a nation's ex-
travagance.
The introduction of municipal heating
plants along with the other public-utility
conveniences installed into some of our
centers of population will soon oust even
the semblance of old-time cord wood.
The buck-saw will not long be"the terror
of former years to the boys of the present
generation, and the old square box-stove
306
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
WILLIAM HODGE AND HIS PET BEAR
a real, shaggy black bear, from Egypt,
contributed by Thomas W. Lawson. To
Mr. Hodge fell the small bruin, and when
the award was made, he wore a puzzled
look that was a true study in physiognomy.
A "white elephant" deeded to him by a
favorite aunt could scarce have caused him
more consternation. There was a mo-
ment's hesitation, and then the erstwhile
farmer took the bear to his bosom, in such
manner as he would welcome a long-lost
relative come home to him.
Youthful Mr. Bruin seemed to see in
the kindly face of the "Man from Home"
a true "friend in a far countree," and* not
long after the two were holding an ani-
mated conversazione in a language that
may have reigned in Bruindom.
Mr. Hodge does not carry "Capper"
in the schoolhouse of long
ago will soon be confined
to the shops of dealers in
antiques.
T^HAT William Hodge is
•*• one of America's best-
loved actors has long been
an established fact. The
question "Why?" is never
raised as to the cause of his
success, for he's always just
the same genial, sincere Will
Hodge wherever he may be,
and his very whole-hearted-
ness wins people to him at
once.
During the summer he had
a taste of life truly rural. In
the old Bay State, not far
from Boston and within
hailing distance of Jerusalem
Road, he became a real
farmer, and one of the Co-
hasset home-folks. So when
the Marshfield County Fair
was being held, to the fair he
went — to Marshfield, among
the fields where Daniel Web-
ster was wont to spend his
hours of relaxation in pitch-
ing hay.
^ One of the prizes offered
at Marshfield was a bear —
MRS. WILLIAM HODGE AND DAUGHTER GENEVIEVE
Named after the title of the song which plays so conspicuous a part in
Mr. Hodge's play, "The Man From Home"
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
307
about with him on a chain, but has left
him in the tender care of Mr. Lawson's
daughter, to hibernate quietly until the
summer days return.
""THE President's personal interest in
•*• the movement to raise a fund of
two million dollars for the endowment of
the American Red Cross, would of itself
create a revival of public interest in that
noble organization; but his announce-
ment of the names of some two hundred
statement that the Japanese Red Cross has
permanent endowment funds amounting to
over eight million dollars.
The beneficent labors of the Red Cross
are not confined to service in war; but,
as set forth in the charter granted it by
Congress, "to continue and carry on a
system of national and international
relief in time of peace, and apply the same
in mitigating the sufferings caused by
pestilence, fire, floods and other great
calamities, and to devise and carry on
measures for preventing the same."
RED CROSS CHINESE FIRST AID CLASS, SAN FRANCISCO
representative Americans, chosen from all
parts of the country, each willing and
eager to do his part in raising the neces-
sary endowment, cannot fail to incite a
prompt and effective response from the
people.
The subject should not be left without
paying a deserved tribute to the devotion
with which Miss Mabel T. Boardman has
inspired a national interest in this move-
ment. Her address before the National
Conservation Congress at St. Paul aided
greatly in ensuring the endorsement of
the project to raise this endowment fund.
Not the least of her arguments was the
parallel drawn between the Red Cross
movement in Japan and European coun-
tries, and our own, including the surprising
•"THE Honorable Horace G. Knowles,
* Envoy Extraordinary and Minister
Plenipotentiary of the United States to
Bolivia, was born at Seaford, Delaware,
in 1863. He was graduated at Delaware
College in 1884, and in 1889 was appointed
United States Consul to Bordeaux, France,
retiring with the advent of the Cleveland
administration in 1893. He was admitted
to the bar of Newcastle County, Delaware,
in 1895, and was several years the attor-
ney of the county, successfully conducting
many important cases.
He was the editor and proprietor of
the Evening Journal, the leading daily
newspaper of Delaware, for two years
prior to entering the diplomatic service in
January, 1907, when he was appointed
308
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Pleni-
potentiary of the United States to Rou-
mania and Servia. July 1, 1907, he was
appointed Minister to Roumania and
Servia and Diplomatic Agent in Bulgaria,
and successively -Minister to Nicaragua
and Minister to the Dominican Republic.
He was appointed Minister to Bolivia
June 24, 1910.
HON. HORACE G. KNOWLES
Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary
of the United States to Bolivia
ONCE again an important issue is
raised by the bill introduced by
Congressman Madden of Chicago, re-
garding an amendment to the Constitu-
tion, to confer upon Congress the power
of legislation upon general issues of all
kinds that have formerly come under
state jurisdiction. Although there is a
growing sentiment in commercial circles
against the restraints imposed by conflict-
ing and divergent state laws, yet the
consensus of opinion of a group of senators
gathered in the cloak room was in accord
with Senator Elihu Root's reply to the
insurance controversy:
"You cannot confine the proposal to in-
surance alone. The framework of our
government aimed to preserve at once the
strength and protection of a great national
power, and the blessing and the freedom and
the personal independence of local self-
government. It aimed to do that by pre-
serving .in the Constitution the sovereign
powers of the separate states. Are we to
reform the Constitution? If we do it as
to insurance, we must do it as to a hundred
and thousand other things. The interde-
pendence of life, wiping out state lines, the
passing to and fro of men and merchandise,
the intermingling of the people of all sections
of our country without regardfto state lines,
are creating a situation in which from every
quarter of the horizon come cries for federal
control of business which is no longer con-
fined within the limits of separate states.
Are we to reform our constitutional system
so as to put in federal hands the control
CONGRESSMAN MADDEN OF CHICAGO
of all the business that passes over state
lines? If we do, where is our local self-
government? If we do, how is the central
government at Washington going to^be able
to discharge the duties that will be imposed
upon it? Already the administration, already
the judicial power, already the legislative
branches of our government are driven to
the limit of their power to deal intelligently
with the subjects that are now before
them.
"This country is too great, its population
too numerous, its interests too vast and com-
plicated already, to say nothing of the enor-
mous increases that we can see before us
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
309
in the future, to be governed as to the great
range of our daily affairs, from one central
power in Washington."
The National Civic Federation has
played a prominent part in creating more
uniform laws among the various states,
which, it is felt, would be more advisable
than amending the Constitution and
possibly jeopardizing state rights. The
views expressed in this matter by Presi-
dent Taft, Colonel Roosevelt, William
Randolph Hearst, Samuel Gompers and
John Mitchell — a group of men differing
widely in political affiliations — are prac-
tically identical, and the governors of
CONGRESSMAN M. E. OLMSTED
of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
most of the states signify their wishes to
co-operate in the movement of making
more uniform state laws.
Those who favor federal control call
attention to the sentiment in Washing-
ton's famous Farewell Address, where he
urged that the country could not shield
itself too much against "geographical
discriminations"; but it is felt that Mr.
Madden's proposed constitutional amend-
ment, despite its good features, might
prove too radical and in the end endanger
the rights of the states as well as of the
nation.
* * *
•"THE "close-of-the-year" reckoning will
*- show a steady increase in the exports
of American manufactures. For the first
time in the history of the United States,
T. w. LEQUATTE
Advertising manager of Successful Farming, pub-
lished at Des Moines, Iowa
the total exports will exceed eight hundred
million dollars per annum in value, which
justifies a well-grounded prediction that
1911 will show even a more radical in-
crease. The exports for September alone
exceeded seventy million dollars and an
average of sixty-eight million dollars'
worth of manufactures going out of the
country each month means great progress
in the right direction.
The report of imports shows a decided
decline in crude materials, though there
has been an increase in the importation
of both manufacturers' materials and
finished manufactures. The fact that
310
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
Chinese cotton importation has reached
theTastonishing figure of four and one-half
million pounds is of intense interest to
Southern planters, and will doubtless lead
to a greater increase in the acreage of
cotton in the South next year.
The enhanced value of cotton is largely
due to the large increase in the value of
by-products. One can never forget the
beauty of the old cotton field, with its
committees of the House. Nine years
ago when Representative David J. Foster
of Vermont entered the House, Speaker
Henderson appointed him a member of
the Committee on Foreign Affairs. Mr.
Foster is a lawyer, and he has been a
student of international law and deeply
interested in international politics and our
Foreign Affairs. He asked the Speake:
to make him a member of the Foreigt
HAD A GLORIOUS TRIP ACROSS THE COUNTRY
A jolly party of NATIONAL MAGAZINE readers who visited our plant after touring across the continent with
Col. Geo. A. Whiting of Neenah, Wis., in his famous Fierce-Arrow. The picture was taken
just as they were returning, opposite the Boston Public Gardens
flossy staples and purple blossoms, but
the increasing enterprise and utilitarian
methods of the American planter will
bring about a more scientific and profitable
production of cotton in future years than
ever before.
* * *
' I 'HE death of Representative James
* Breck Perkins of New York brought
another New England man to the chair-
manship of one of the most important
Affairs Committee, and Mr. Henderson
promptly recognized his fitness for the
place. The committee is an important
one. It frames the annual appropriation
bill for the support of our Diplomatic
and Consular Service, and deals with
many of the delicate and confidential
matters affecting the intercourse between
the United States and foreign govern-
ments. It has jurisdiction of all proposed
legislation affecting the relations of the
SENATOR JOSEPH L. BRISTOW
The Insurgent Senator ..who has them all a-guessing
312
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
United States with foreign nations, in-
cluding appropriations therefor.
Mr. Foster's work on the committee
during these nine years has been marked
by good judgment and careful attention to
details, and it was only natural that he
should be promoted to the chairmanship.
During the time Mr. Foster has been a
Photo by
Clinedinst MRS. PETER GOELET GERRY
Formerly Miss Mathilde Townsend, who has long been considered
the most beautiful girl in Washington
member of the committee our consular
service has been thoroughly reorganized.
This was accomplished partly by legis-
lation and partly by Executive order.
Mr. Foster did his full share in the work
of taking this important service out of
politics. His ability as a lawyer and his
familiarity with constitutional questions
were shown in his scholarly speech in the
House upon the treaty- making power of
the government, delivered at the time
when the city of San Francisco undertook
to segregate the Japanese school children
in separate schools.
Another subject which has claimed con-
stant attention from Mr. Foster is that of
the public schools of Washington. He in-
sists that they ought to be models of per-
fection, object lessons for the
several states. It was largely
through his efforts that legisla-
tion was enacted some years
ago reorganizing the schools
and increasing the compensa-
tion of teachers and providing
for annual automatic increases
in such compensation. He is
now seeking by legislative ac-
tion to provide pensions for
these teachers upon retirement.
But withal Mr. Foster is
severely practical in looking
after those matters in which
his constituents are peculiarly
interested. From the start he
saw the value of that branch
of the postal service known as
rural delivery, which has done
so much to bring the farmer
into contact with the world
and to improve the conditions
of rural life. His district was
one of the first to be gridironed
by these routes and the devel-
opments and improvements of
the service have been his con-
stant care. He now has a bill
pending which has the approval
of the Post Office Department
to establish a local parcels post
on these routes.
If this bill should become a
law it will revolutionize to a
considerable extent the parcel
business of the country. His
bill has many staunch adherents in both
branches of Congress, and throughout the
country there are many people ready to
fight for it. After all it's what the] people
want that counts.
Mr. Foster has always stood for the dig-
nity and prestige of the House of Repre-
sentatives. He has insisted that there
should be better order hi the House, that
the individual members should assume
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
313
larger responsibility for legislation therein,
that the House should have more effec-
tive control over pending legislation.
His speech in the House some months
ago in which he deplored the lack of order
and dignity in the procedure of the House
and urged that it mend its manners if it
would retain the respect
of the public was com-
mended by the press and
people of the entire coun-
try. He was one of the
foremost leaders a year
ago in the movement
which resulted in the
adoption of a rule provid-
ing for what is known as
Calendar Wednesday,
which has revolutionized
the procedure of the
House. Under this rule
bills thus reported come
up automatically every
Wednesday, and the
House has regained con-
trol over bills favorably
reported by committees.
Mr. Foster is a member
of the Republican Con-
gressional committee, and
he enjoys a wide reputa-
tion as a campaigner and
effective speaker.
"PHE chief arguments
* used successfully in
the past political cam-
paign were based directly
upon "the high cost of
living." The phrase has
become a byword on the
stump and in the press,
which will arouse the in-
terest of the people when
other devices fail. After
all, the cost of living is the all-important
problem which confronts the American
citizen, but it is rather doubtful if a
are working individually and collectively
to make less irksome this problem of ex-
istence. People are apt to be too pessi-
mistic in their sweeping statements that
"everything's higher than it used to be,"
though they like to feel that relief can be
had and -all things reduced in cost without
FATHER B. B. HULBERT
The veteran journalist, well known to every editor in the Union and loved
by them all; he conducts the National Printer- Journalist of Chicago
looking into the various causes that have
increased prices.
The cost of transportation forms no
shifting of political parties in a state or small percentage of the fixed prices of the
municipality can properly be expected to necessaries of life, and an announcement
work radical changes in so gigantic and
heterogeneous a problem.
It is too often overlooked that the
from the Bureau of Statistics — which al-
ways has figures in black and white to
back up its declarations — reveals remark-
various departments of the government able changes for the better so far as the
314
AFFAIRS AT" WASHINGTON
inland waterway system of this country
is concerned.
The ordinary lake-channel depth has
been increased from fourteen to twenty-
one feet during the last half century,
which of course has brought about the
Photo by courtesy of Panama Legation
DR. PABLO AROSEMENA
President of Panama
use of larger boats and lower freight
rates. The lake boats built now are
six times as large as those of the old days
of fourteen-foot channels, and a cargo
of 400,000 bushels has been shipped to
Buffalo in one vessel. A decrease of
three-fourths in the average rate of
wheat transported from Chicago to Buffalo
cannot but have some influence in lower-
ing the cost of living.
D IGID economy" is the watchword
*^ promulgated by Secretary of the
Treasury MacVeagh upon the completion
and announcement of his estimates for
the next fiscal year. Mr. MacVeagh has
personally investigated the expenditures
of the different government departments
with their respective heads, and has cut
every estimate down to the minimum.
That government expenses shall not
exceed Treasury receipts is a project as
close to the heart of the energetic Secre-
tary of the Treasury as penny postage is
to Postmaster-General Hitchcock. The
secretary, after an exhaustive study of
the problem from every point of view,
sees no reason why the current expenses of
the government should not be met by
current receipts. Several strong reasons
are cited for his belief, among others the
greatly increased revenue from the tax
on tobacco.
pOUNT LEO TOLSTOI'S death ended
^ the career of perhaps the most in-
teresting personality of the age. Littera-
teur, philosopher, historian, reformer, in
his life he admittedly "practiced what he
preached." The outline of his life is
familiar. The offspring of one of the
first families of Russia, the Count early
cast aside any pretention to nobility and
luxury, and became one of the people. His
remarkable career has for years attracted
world-wide attention, and his eccentrici-
ties have been overlooked in consideration
of his masterful service to the cause of
humanity and the world of letters.
As a literary artist he will be immortal-
ized, though he possibly would have
wished it otherwise. But however laud-
able his ideals of social and religious re-
form, his very inconsistency made a large
following impracticable; still there are les-
sons in the philosophy of Tolstoi that
everyone can afford to put into active use.
His heart was great, and he was loved by
the poor — he was essentially a humane and
charitable as well as a famous man.
THE LATE COUNT LEO TOLSTOI
Painted byP.Dcfrcggar
JOSEPH THE CARPENTER OF NAZARETH
THE HOLY FAMILY
Trades
CARPENTER AND HOUSE BUILDER
By Charles Window Hall
"And of his trade he was a carpenter."
— Chaucer in " The Canterbury Tales," A.D. 1383o
, tenderest, saddest of
all figures in human history, yet
the real inspiration of the spirit
of Christmastide, its human re-
joicing in the renaissance of home ties,
and its unwonted interest in the poor and
suffering, stands Jesus of Nazareth, "the
Carpenter's son," and doubtless himself for
many a year the assistant of his father, and
expert at his calling.
One loves to imagine the handsome
Hebrew boy, making his first essays with
saw and hatchet, shaving out dowels and
pins of sycamore for fastenings, and en-
joying the warm fragrance of the riven
cedar as he painfully followed with his
antique saw the straight lines laid out
for his guidance by his father, Joseph.
In all the world of splendid industries,
no other calling can point with pride and
reverent affection to so noble a fellow-
craftsman as the carpenter's guild.
An old Jewish tradition relates that
Methuselah, having reached his ninth
centennial, was informed by an angel
that by removing to a new house, his life
would be prolonged for another century,
but that the multi-centenarian refused to
leave his old home, not wishing to take
so much trouble, merely to prolong his
life for so short a period as an additional
hundred years.
Before Chaucer's time the Saxon word
"tree- wright" had become in general
speech "carpenter," derived through the
Norman-French "carpentier" and the
mediaeval Latin "carpentarius" from
an old Roman word "carpentum," a
carriage or wagon; the latter telling us of
an era when Italian cities were no longer
built of lumber, and the wood-worker
had turned his hand to other uses of his
craft.
The materials with which home-builders
have dealt since creation have been many
and varied, but in the main the best
possible under existing conditions and
resources. The cavern-sheltered homes
of the cliff-dwellers; the great tribal
"cabanes" of the Iroquois and Creeks;
the terraced cities of the Mojave and
Moqui communities; the immense com-
munal structures of Polynesian and Malay-
sian islanders; the individual summer and
winter lodges of the American tribes;
the half-subterranean houses of the north-
west coast peoples; the camel's hair tent
of the Arab, and Turkoman, and the
winter igloe and snow-hut of the Esqui-
maux commend themselves to the un-
prejudiced traveller as wonderfully adapted
to the necessities of their builders, and
often as the best possible shelter for the
civilized man who seeks to live and labor
under like conditions. Indeed it is to be
doubted if the "lower classes" of what
Mulvaney terms "the shuparior and civ-
ilized man" are in the mass as healthfully
(317)
318
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
and comfortably housed as the average
"savage."
In rainless Egypt, six thousand years
ago, the hovel of the slave and laborer
was of sun-dried bricks or adobe such as
may be seen almost anywhere on our
southwest frontier and in Mexico. Al-
most always of one story, it had rafters
of split trunks of the doum palms, over
which smaller branches and broad leaves
supported the mud roof, beaten hard
and level as a floor, on which the inmates
generally slept, ate and did general house-
keeping, except in the heat of the day. •
When the valley of the Nile was visited
by rain or hail, the interior of the house
became the refuge as well as the store-
house of the family.
The better class of farm-buildings were
of stone or unburned brick, surrounded
by four high walls, forming a courtyard, en-
tered by a nearly square and massive
door opening inward, hung on bronze
pintles, and secured by bars fitting into
metal rings. The house section contained
several living and store-rooms, and a
flight of stone steps led up to the battle-
mented roof, which sometimes had a
huge mulkuf or wooden ventilator to
catch and distribute the cooling breezes
into the stuffy rooms below. Sometimes
one or more sleeping rooms were built
like turrets at the angles or ends of the
roof, but these were not common.
In the Egyptian walled cities, where
"town-lots" were small and high-priced,
the thick stucco-faced walls of sunburned
brick sometimes reached three or four
stories above the street. The rafter ends
and floor- timbers projected far beyond the
walls, and were decorated and stained,
as were the stuccoed outer walls them-
selves. The fronts of the houses were
very gaily ornamented, imitation pillars
reaching from the foundation to the
frieze below the roof. Narrow and lofty
panel-work, gay cornices, painted friezes,
were grained to imitate rare woods,
painted in the gayest colors, and inscribed
with mottoes and hieroglyphics. The
side and back walls were similarly if less
lavishly decorated, and the grounds fur-
nished with flagstaffs set for gala day
decoration.
The interiors of the better class of houses
were better fitted for family privacy and
individual dignity than those of most
other nations for many succeeding cen-
turies. The rooms were not large, even
in palaces, but were floored with stone or
plank, finished in panels or wainscots of
costly woods, or veneered or stained and
"grained" to imitate them, for of all
these "modern" arts the Egypt of Abra-
ham's day was a mistress. The plastered
or stuccoed walls, sometimes from four
to six feet thick, were painted by artists,
with pictures from life, or figures of
national, religious or local interest, gene-
rally surrounded by borders or with
cornices and friezes of floral or conven-
tional designs. Like the Arabs, they
used mottoes and descriptive titles to an
extent "tabooed" by modern artists. The
windows were small and closed by shutters,
for while glass-blowing was carried to a
high degree of perfection under very re-
mote dynasties, there are no traces of
the use of window-glass as yet discovered.
The Egyptian carpenter of forty cen-
turies ago used the long one-handled
rip-saw for getting out stock, the shorter
Across-cut," at the bench, the adze,
hammer, awl, chisel, file, square, bow-
drill, glue-pot and hatchet. A mallet,
made something like that of a stone-
cutter, but rather more club-like in shape,
bronze and iron nails, and dowels of
different sizes, and a basket to carry them
in, made up the "kit" of the Egyptian
carpenter. His adzes and hatchets had
no polls with which to drive nails, and
were at first mere blades of bronze, in-
serted in and lashed with raw-hide strips
to their wooden handles; but in the use
of his rude tools he was no slouch, and
work which Moses may have watched
as a boy, or Joseph paid for out of the
revenues of his great governmental
"corner in corn" still pleases and astonishes
us with its neatness, finish, and wonder-
ful durability. Caskets, strong-boxes,
mummy-cases were fastened together by
flat dowels, not only set in close-fitting
mortises but strongly glued and further
secured by pegs set through the dowels
themselves. They understood dove-tail-
ing and trick-fastenings, inlaying, veneer-
ing and the substitution of one wood
for another. Their bow-drill with its
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
319
head-socket of the ivory-like nut of the
doum palm is still in use in Egypt, and an
exquisite adaptation of its principle is
the favorite tool of the American watch-
repairer of today.
But wood was scarce in Egypt, and the
carpenter worked chiefly on movables
of various kinds. Furniture, coffers,
boxes and chests, ships, boats and their
equipage; chariots, wagons and massive
machines for war and peace, lances,
bows, maces and shields ; temple shrines
and palace thrones, with myriads of
smaller articles, kept the "tree-wrights"
of Egypt busy at the never-ending task
of getting out "dimension lumber" from
the log and working it up into innumer-
able specialties.
There was no need of trades unions
in those days; a man-child born to one
of the guilds took up his father's calling
as a matter of course. There were,
it is true, exceptions; but they
generally ended badly, as all good
Egyptian citizens deemed fitting.
The cities of Phoenicia, Tyre, Sidon
and their lesser sisters exported avast
amount of cedar and fir to Egypt, and
from Africa came tribute in heavy bars
of jetty ebony. The acacia's tough trunks,
the coarse-grained lumber of the sycamore
and some smaller trees were supplied
by the replanted forest-reserves of the
kingdom. But in Phoenicia, among these
fierce greedy sailor-merchants of the
ancient world, wood was used much more
freely than it could be in Egypt, a country
which could spare little arable land to
forest culture.
The Hebrews used wood to a consider-
able extent in their early history, and
were accustomed to seek the raw material
in the forests along the rivers and in the
mountain ranges.
Moses undoubtedly numbered many
skilled artificers among his followers of
the Exodus, among whom one Belzaleel
built the inner shrine of the tabernacle,
about B. C. 1490. It was made of boards
of precious woods, some nineteen feet
long, by 33 inches wide, each of which
had two tenons, fitting sockets of silver
in the removable sills. All the boards
were overlaid with gold, and furnished
with golden rings, through which five
bars, also encrusted with gold, passed,
holding the structure together.
Within this gorgeous shrine, which was
roofed over with costly draperies like a tent,
were two apartments, one of which was the
Holy of Holies, occupied by the Ark of
the Covenant, and in the other the high
priest made intercession for his people.
When David succeeded Saul as King
of all Israel, and master of Jerusalem
AN ANCIENT CARPENTER'S KIT IN USE
DURING EARLY DAYS OP EGYPT
(B.C. 1048) King Hiram of Tyre "sent
messengers to David, and cedar trees and
carpenters and masons and built David
a house." Of its size and luxury we know
nothing, but as David made over to
Solomon some $750,000,000 in gold and
silver bullion, to aid in building the Temple,
David's "house" was probably a palace
splendid and costly, even according to
modern estimates.
In King Solomon's reign a generation
later (B. C. 1017) we find that besides a
320
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
vast amount of cedar and fir, lumber and
boards cut in the Lebanon ranges and
used to line the stone walls, lay the floors
and to build and cover the roof of the
temple, there were prepared "iron nails"
and spikes for the fastening of the same;
and this in what modern scientists claim
to have been an "Age of Bronze," when
iron was little known except in the form
of meteorites.
All this woodwork was overlaid with
gold — even the carvings were plated with
the precious metals, and the roof itself
glowed in the sunlight, with incalculable
treasures. The floors, the great door-
posts and leaves of .the portal were of
fir, and some interior doors of olive wood,
but otherwise all was cedar. In all the
ANCIENT BOW DRILL
1 — Drill and the bow for turning it 2 — The drill alone
3 — The socket, or the dom nut, in which it turned
annals of stupendous cost and architectural
expenditure, the world has never seen the
equal of Solomon's temple, and probably
never will again to the end of time. It
is no wonder that when King Solomon's
realm fell into decay through luxury, dis-
soluteness and greed of kingly power,
Shishak, King of Egypt, carried away the
greater part of its stupendous treasures;
but during Solomon's life, the glory of its
magnificence was renowned throughout
the world. Solomon also built a palace
which was thirteen years in construction,
besides a country seat or rather mountain-
palace in the Lebanon Ranges, which
according to our modern measurement
would be one hundred and eighty-five
feet long by ninety-one feet wide, with
walls fifty-four feet high; framed with
cedar pillars and ornamented beams of
vast size. Its lofty roof, supported by
three rows of fifteen cedar pillars each,
was covered with the same fragrant and
durable wood.
In fact, Solomon had at his command
the combined skill and experience of the
best artificers of Egypt and Phoenicia,
the greatest nations of the past, unless
they themselves were only offshoots of
that great Atlantean empire and civiliza-
tion, whose ruins lie between and around
the island -peaks of the Azores, from two
hundred to a thousand fathoms beneath
the sea, and ooze that engulfed them.
Later the prophet Elisha is depicted as
leading his "sons" (disciples) into the
forests of the valley of the Jordan to cut
timbers or logs to build themselves larger
quarters. Each was to bring home a
"beam" on his shoulders, and as there
were not axes enough, one or more was
borrowed for the occasion. While one of
the young men was chopping close to the
water, the borrowed axe-head flew from
the helve into the river, to the
dismay of the borrower, but was
miraculously recovered by the
prophet.
Jeremiah records that Nebuchadnezzar,
King of Babylon, carried into captivity
"Jeconiah, the son of King Jehoiakim,
the princes of Judah with the carpenters
and smiths from Jerusalem," thus depriv-
ing the Jews of their accredited leaders,
and also of the skilled artificers who alone
could furnish them with arms, armor,
military engines and defensive works.
Zechariah later declares: "And the Lord
showed me four carpenters. Then, said I,
what come these to do? And he spoke,
saying, These (referring to a vision of four
horns) are the horns which have scattered
Judah so that no man did lift his head;
but these (carpenters) are come to fray
them, to cast out the horns of the Gen-
tiles which lifted up their horns over the
land of Judah to scatter it."
It is written in the Talmud that these
carpenters were: 1. Messiah, a son of
King David. 2. Messiah, the son of
Joseph. 3. Elijah, the prophet. 4. The
Priest of Righteousness.
The Grecians also builded largely of
wood, except in the walled cities where,
if besieged, fire would certainly be used
against the enclosed dwellings.
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
321
Generally speaking, the Grecian houses
were much like the Egyptian, in ground-
plan, but were more tasteful, roomy and
artistic. Curiously enough, the street
doors opened outward, into the streets;
warning being previously given by rapping
on the door or ringing a bell. The arrange-
ments for privacy and sanitary conditions
greatly excelled those of most other nations
of antiquity.
The Roman house was chiefly one large
roofless room, the atrium; with a great
rain-water tank, the impluvium, in the
center around which, on a paved floor,
the business and pleasure of the house-
hold, including the cooking, was carried
on. In the narrow, enclosed portion of
the house which surrounded it, cubiculae
or sleeping rooms, store-rooms and a
bath-room existed in most Roman houses.
These were lighted by windows
giving on the atrium, and closed
by wooden shutters in cold or
rainy weather. The better class
warmed these apartments by
hot-air flues connecting with a
hypocaust or central furnace,
which may not have had chim-
neys, although some scholars
claim that the Romans pos-
sessed them. The Romans, while
they occupied 'Great Britain,
constructed their villas on the Thames as
they were accustomed to on the Tiber.
Probably the atrium was roofed over in a
country of severe frosts and heavy snows,
but this can only be conjectured. Their
methods of building do not seem to have
been more or less copied by the Picts, Scots
and Norsemen, who rushed in when the
Romans relinquished their conquests, and
Celtic and Saxon architecture for some
centuries was simple in the extreme.
The habitations of English common
people for centuries consisted of a wooden
hut of one room, with the fire built in the
center. To this hut, if a man increased
in family and wealth, a leant o was added
and later another and another. The
roofs were of thatch, the beds of loose
st^aw, or straw beds with bolsters of the
same, laid on the floor, or perhaps eventu-
ally shut in by a shelf and ledge like the
berths of a ship or by a small closet.
The Saxon thane or "knight" built a
more pretentious "hall," a large open
room like the Roman atrium with a lofty
roof thatched or covered with slates or
wooden shingles. In the center of the
hard clay floor burned great fires of dry
wood whose thin acrid smoke escaped
from openings in the roof, above the hearth
or by the doors, windows and openings
under the eaves of the thatch.
By day the "hearths-men" and visitors,
when not working or fighting, sat on long
benches on either side of the fire, and, as
John Hay puts it, "calmly drinked and
jawed"; or gathering at long "boards"
placed on trestles regaled themselves
on some sort of porridge with "fish and
milk," or "meat and ale." Mead, a sweet,
heavy drink made of honey, water and
"other ingrediences" was largely drunk
in Cornwall and Wales, instead of ale.
fe
THE EGYPTIAN USING THE SAW AND ADZE, MAKING
THE POLE AND OTHER PARTS OP A CHARIOT
At night, straw or rushes spread on
the floor formed beds for the entire com-
pany in the earlier and ruder days, when
the "baser sort" were glad to share their
straw with the cows. Smaller sleeping
apartments were at an early date pre-
pared for the women and the chieftain
and his family, but privacy, as we under-
stand it, could hardly be said to exist.
As late as the Fourteenth Century, a
King of France often distinguished some
favorite courtier or servant by inviting
him to share his bed, or to sleep in the
same room.
Most of the houses in the towns were
also of wooden or mud walls with thatched
roofs. Down to the reign of King Stephen
in the Twelfth Century, the greater part
of London was thus built upon. The
frequency and terrible ravages of great
fires replaced the thatch with shingles,
and boarded walls with timber frames im-
bedded in plaster; but brick and stone
322
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
were
"the
used until after
the Seventeenth
not universally
Great Fire" of
Century.
The Danish, Swedish and Norwegian
chiefs ornamented the doorposts of their
halls with ornate wood-carvings, in which
scenes from the Volsunga Saga, or involved
serpentine and dragon forms were inter-
spersed with Runic inscriptions. The
hinges and locks were usually very mas-
sive and florid in design and workmanship.
The Icelandic Sagas show that the
chief of that day was often his own
architect, designer, smith and best wood
COUNTRY HOME IN EGYPT— 3500 YEARS AGO
worker. No honest work was held de-
grading, and although a woman's tasks
were hardly befitting a man, yet at need
a chief might do them without incurring
ridicule; and like most sailors of the old
school, a ferocious Viking might be seen
cooking his own food and sewing his own
garments.
In Norway, Russia and Sweden, house-
builders made considerable use of birch-
bark and tar instead of thatch or shingle
roofing, and thereby sometimes insured
their own destruction, when, surprised
by their enemies and shut in from escape,
or resistance, "the red cock crowed on the
roof" at midnight or dawning.
In England in the Eighteenth Century,
except in the cities, the average house
was of one floor only, but sometimes had
a basement of half a story or more above-
ground, the house proper being reached
by out-of-door stairways. The "solar"
or upper chamber in Saxon England was
a mere loft, built over the original living
room, and used only for lodging. It is
told in one of the Sagas that a guest lodg-
ing in such a room left it during the night,
and returning entered the open door of
another chamber which had been used to
prepare mead and to draw it from a big
vat in the house below. Groping his way
in, the chief fell into the fermenting mead
and was overcome and drowned therein.
The sanitary conveniences in Saxon
England, and among the Norsemen, were
better than in most other European
countries; and at an early date the people
of Norway, Sweden and Denmark were
noted for personal cleanliness and greater
care for privacy than obtained among
other nationalities. Shut beds, like a
large berth with sliding doors, within
which one could dress or undress
easily, were found in the homes of
many whose class in France, Spain,
Germany or Italy knew nothing of
such refinements.
In England, in the Twelfth Cen-
tury, carpenters were paid threepence
a day with board and lodging or
fourpence half -penny if .the workman
boarded himself. Small as this sum
seems, it was the equivalent of about
five shillings sterling ($1.21) at the
present time. A host of cookshops
along the Thames shore, with lightly
built sheds and hovels to be let as lodgings
to such people, were such a menace to the
safety of the city of London that shortly
after the fire that destroyed London
Bridge in 1212, it was decreed that all
these cook-shops "be whitewashed and
plastered within and without, and their
inner chambers and hostelries wholly
removed."
In the Thirteenth Century many manor
houses and castles, built in the more un-
settled and warlike past, had fallen into
partial decay through want of occupancy.
Their single halls and few small private
chambers were no longer tolerable quarters,
and such castles were often "repaired" by
building detached "chambers," "chapels,"
kitchens, butteries, wardrobes, etc., within
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
323
the defences, and connecting them by
covered passages of wood, sometimes com-
pletely weather-proof, so that host and
guest could go from one structure to
another without exposure.
In 1285, Edward I built himself a palace
at Woolmer, Hampshire County, having
a chamber seventy-two by twenty-eight
feet, with two chimneys, a chapel and two
wardrobes of masonry costing in work-
men's wages eleven pounds. There was
also a large hall of wood and plaster. The
MODEL OF AN EGYPTIAN HOUSE
windows had plain wooden shutters, the
roof had leaden gutters and was covered
with sixty-three thousand shingles and
the walls required sixteen thousand laths.
The chamber, with its vaulted basement,
hall and kitchen, probably formed three
sides of a square enclosing a small lawn
and parterres of flowers. The use of lead
instead of shingles for roofs became very
common, in churches, palaces, etc., the
lead being bought in pigs and cast into
sheets on the spot. Slates and imported
flat tiles had also been more or less used
on the better class of buildings, but the
half-round tile so largely in use in Southern
Europe was never a favorite in England.
The simplicity of house decoration in
this age, and the ideals of royal luxury
and hospitality, may be gained from a
record of the preparations for the corona-
tion of Edward I in 1273, when all the
vacant land about the palace at West-
minster was entirely covered with houses
and offices, and several halls, "as many as
could be built ... in which tables firmly
fixed in the ground were set up, whereon
the magnates and princes and nobles were
to be feasted on the day of the coronation
,ji
and during the fifteen days thereafter."
And that all, rich and poor, might be
gratuitously and royally fed, "innumer-
able kitchens were also built within the
said enclosure, for the preparation of
viands against the same solemnity, and
lest those kitchens should not be enough,
there were numberless leaden caldrons
placed outside them for the cooking of
meats," etc. Three hundred barrels of
wine, besides ale and beer, were provided.
The writer, after enumerating the erec-
tion of great stables, etc., and stating
that such plenty and luxury had never
been displayed in times past, adds "the
great and the small hall were newly white-
washed and painted," etc.
Most of the buildings were temporary
rough wooden structures, and depended
chiefly for display
on the tapestry,
hangings, banners,
blazonry and other
decorations hung
upon the bare
walls. The brew-
ery where beer and
ale were prepared ;
the butlery from
whence wines and
other liquors were
distributed; the
sewery, whence
the table linen, equipage and provisions
were given out; and the wardrobes whence
great men dispensed the liveries and gar-
ments of their household — a very large
item of expense in those days — were the
chief apartments of a palace or great
manor. In the wardrobe were also kept
the special dainties of that age, such as
almonds, figs, "raisins of the sun," ginger,
and the rose and violet-colored sugars of
Alexandria then coming into use among
the wealthy.
Window-glass, while used in Italian
churches in the Seventh and Eighth
Centuries, was scarcely known in English
houses until the Thirteenth and Four-
teenth Centuries, and then sparingly as
an imported luxury. In 1386, four counties
were levied upon to secure enough glass
to repair the windows of a single chapel.
The glass used was of Flemish and Nor-
man importation, and the cost three-
DOOR OF AN
EGYPTIAN HOUSE
324
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
pence half -penny per foot, including cost
of glazing (in lead), about $1.05 modern
currency.
Henry III generally had the wainscot-
ing of his palaces painted green, "starred
with gold," on which ground pictures were
painted in panels, ovals or circles, the
subjects being taken from the Scriptures,
lives of the saints, or old romances. Some-
times the green and gold wainscoting
was simply bordered with medallions.
The walls above the wainscot and the
ceilings were, when not lined with wood,
finished with "plaster of Paris" and,
like those of wood and even of stone, often
painted in colors or gilded. Indeed, the
THE FRONT ELEVATION OF AN EGYPTIAN
CITY HOUSE
wooden or stone finish was seldom left
in its native beauty, and even the ashlar
masonry of the castles and manor-houses
then standing was often painted or
worked in checkered or like patterns.
The American colonists naturally copied
to some extent their old homes in Europe,
but for a while lived largely in log huts
with roofs of bark and thatch, and even
in caves, and Indian wigwams, and when
they had leisure and means to build better
houses, they rarely reproduced the heavy
timber and plaster outer walls of the
Elizabethan era. In New England es-
pecially, the old houses, many of which
still date back to the Seventeenth Cen-
tury, when not of logs, are nearly all of
that simple, dry-goods-box style of archi-
tecture, which was slowly blended with
Grecian pillar and portico in the Eigh-
teenth, and effloresced into every possible
extravagance and commixture of archi-
tecture in the Nineteenth Century. Many
of the earlier homes had the second floor
so framed as to overhang the doors and
windows of the first floor; sometimes,
but not always, for purposes of defence.
The walls of certain "garrison houses"
were filled in with brick or "grout," mak-
ing the lower rooms veritable fortresses,
in whose deep window-seats fair girls
still love to dream of the days when the
peaceful meadows and forests about them
often cbncelaed an insidious and merci-
less enemy.
In New York the peculiarities of German
and "Low Dutch" home-building were
closely imitated; as at Albany, where
a popular geography stated, so many in-
habitants and so many houses "stand
with their gable ends to the street."
A few handsome mansions reproduce
Old English types, though much more
largely in the Southern than in the
Northern colonies, but the general type
has been and is chiefly, to the present day,
a mortised timber or "balloon" frame
boarded up and shingled on the roof and
sides, or as in later years, sided with clap-
boards over a lining of building-paper.
At first the pioneer carpenter had to
get out his own lumber, felling and bark
ing the trees, splitting the great trunks
with wedges, and hewing plank, timber
and rafter into shape with broad axe and
adze, or wearily at work in the sawpit
on boards and furring. Laths were split
out of thin puncheons, and cedar shingles
were "rived out" from the short blocks
with a froe or frow, a long, thick wedge-
pointed blade, set at right angles to a long
handle, and driven into the wood by a
mallet-club, like that used by the Egyp-
tian carpenters six thousand years ago.
These riven cedar shingles, shaven smooth
and edged on a "jointer" often lasted for
a generation, without renewal.
Up to the middle of the Nineteenth Cen-
tury almost all buildings were framed
of heavy timbers, carefully mortised to-
gether and secured at the joints by strong
dowels or wooden pins, which were often
turned out in a lath or roughly shaped
A ROSE TO A FRIEND
325
and smoothed by being driven through a
perforated steel plate, called a dowel plate.
The wall-frames were often put together
on the ground and lifted and moved into
place, by the united exertions of scores
and sometimes of hundreds of men, to
whom "a raising" was an occasion of
general interest and festivity. Great
skill and care were required to raise the
larger frames, and serious accidents often
resulted, from a failure to work properly
and together, a failure sometimes due to
untimely hospitality in the matter of
"refreshments."
Some sixty years ago, however, the
American carpenters began to use the
"balloon-frame," built up of dimension
lumber, spiked and braced together, and
this construction has become the type of
modern framing.
The inside finish, with all its mouldings,
panels, doors, sashes, etc., were made by
hand, and the kit of moulding planes
alone owned by a master carpenter fifty
years ago made up a formidable list.
But after the close of the Civil War,
wood-working machinery and factories
rapidly lessened the burden laid on the
carpenter by furnishing doors, window-
frames, blinds, sashes,- mouldings, mantels,
etc., to order, and at prices which were
lower than the cost of making them by
hand. The improved methods of heating
and lighting houses also greatly simplified
the problem of tasteful interior finish,
and an infinitude of patent roofings, ceil-
ings, paints, floorings, parqueties, veneers,
etc., have made it much easier to consult
individual tastes than fifty years ago.
The tendency to use concrete in place
of wooden walls and floors is the natural
result of an immensely increased cost of
lumber and skilled carpentry, and the
constant necessity of frequent repairs
and repainting.
It is practically impossible for a man
today to secure land, near a city, and to
build the smallest nest of a house for less
than two thousand dollars, and the rental
of decent worki'ngmen's homes is much
lower in England than in America. No
greater benefit could be conferred on this
age than the establishment of some
system by which a large number of cosy
cottages could be built and sold or rented
to meet the needs and tastes of the modern
workingman. The monopoly and arti-
ficially enhanced cost of many materials,
and rates of wages which at present can-
not be paid by contractors who build on
speculation, have for the time being al-
most paralyzed the building trade, but
there are so many specialties constantly
put upon the market to replace the ancient
and no longer economical resources of
the past that it may be safely predicted
that the era of wooden construction is
drawing swiftly to a close, and that the
house-carpenter must soon become a
worker on interior finish only.
A ROSE TO A FRIEND
/^\H, to know why a soul of man blooms under sod:
^^ When the flowers are wov'n in the sunlight of God
Who would call back a spirit, from newly found bliss,
To the blooms that lie buried in bosoms of this?
JTwas the bud of thy friendship in bosom half -blown
That caused me to love thee when its presence was known,
And no garland immortal I'd weave for thee now
Would befit thee without half -blown rose on thy brow.
Aye, the heart to thine leaps, my new friend, yet old friend,
And its warmth draws me nearer, and closer to end
Of our parting, and waits for the dawn of the day
Where the shadows of clay from our lives roll away.
— C. A. Fernald. in the book "Heart Throbs.'"
^?
,<^Q^
A,
"Wherefore my counsel is that we hold fast to the heavenly
way" — PLATO in "The Republic," book x
By EDNA DEAN PROCTOR
'T'HE heavenly way! The narrow path that Lads
*• Where gulf and steep and burning desert bar,
Till, high and clear, it gains the golden meads
And the soft radiance of the morning star.
What dost thou care, O Soul, for present gloom,
The wind's wild tumult and the surging sea?
Bear thyself grandly through the darkest doom,
Thou heir of all that was and is to be.
Only hold fast to heaven! The black night speeds;
The shadows vanish where the dawn gleams far;
And lo! the rapture of the golden meads,
And peace celestial with the morning star!
Copyright, 1905, by Edna Dean Proctor
^S
The Rovercal of tho Scriptures
or
DINAH FLETCHERIZES
by Edith Fanchor
OCENE — Comfortable and spacious living-room of Mrs. Marsden's suburban home. A
*-) group of friends are passing an informal afternoon together in honor of Mrs. Brewsler's
sister, Miss Archibald, who is soon to leave for her Western home.'
'RS. HOLLISTER (youthful and
pretty, enters exclaiming breath-
lessly); "O Cousin Mary, I'm
very sorry to be late this after-
noon, but it took me so much longer to
change the hooks and eyes on this dress
than I thought it would."
MRS. BREWSTER (a vivacious blonde):
"Do you mean to tell us, Nancy Hollister,
that you've actually been sewing on hooks
and eyes?"
MRS. HOLLISTER: "Yes, I have. Twice.
The first time tluy didn't seem to come to-
gether in the right places, and I made this
whole gown, too. (Looking down at it
with modest but unaffected pride. The rest
exchange glances of horrified amusement).
MRS. PANOKEN: "What suggested such
a daring enterprise, if I may inquire? I
thought you hated the very sight of a
needle."
MRS. HOLLISTER: "I do; but after
Professor James declared the test of a
person's character was the ability to con-
quer things, and not to be conquered by
them, I determined to learn to sew. I
bought a paper pattern —
MRS. MARSDEN (interrupting sternly and
with repressed excitement): "Isn't that the
gown Madame Dupont made for your
Christmas dinner party?"
MRS. HOLLISTER (delightedly): "Oh, do
you recognize it, Mary? That was the
only time I ever wore it. You remember
Jeems spilled soup on the front breadth
and changed the color."
MRS. BREWSTER (her eyes twinkling,
(32
leaning lazily forward, her chin in her palms
— with an insinuating voice): "Do go on,
Nan! And so you bought a paper pattern
and evolved this creation. I didn't think
it of you. Turn around. I want the effect
of your maiden effort to sink in. (Mrs.
Hollister radiantly complies). Oh, not so
fast! Slowly, slowly! You're a wonder,
Nan. How did you know which pieces
went together?"
MRS. HOLLISTER (flushed and triumph-
ant): "The directions were really quite
simple. They said t o j oin similar notches . < '
MRS. PANOKEN: "It's marvelous,
Nancy. There's no doubt about that,
but isn't it a trifle, just a trifle, loose?"
MRS. HOLLISTER (walking to a pier-glass
and surveying her handiwork): "I made it
that way very specially. If there's no
strain on the seams a garment lasts so
much longer (shrieks of delighted laughter) .
Then Signer Maraschino says I must
practice deep breathing to round out my
voice (enthusiastically). Why, I can just
take in gallons of air in this gown."
MRS. BREWSTER (with roguish solemnity).
"And not drag a single hook from its
anchor."
Miss ARCHIBALD (tall and athletic, seizes
Mrs. Hollister around the waist, dances
a few steps with her and sings gayly): "Oh,
you've heard of the Man from Glengarry.
The Man with the Spade and the Hoe, but
this dainty maid puts Worth in the shade.
She's the maid you simply must know."
MRS. BEVERLY: "Do stop your non-
sense, Pauline. I wish to know what Mr.
328
THE REVERSAL OF THE SCRIPTURES
Hollister thinks of his wife's clever effort."
MRS. HOLLISTER (visibly depressed in a
deprecatory tone): "You know how ex-
treme Jack is in his remarks, sometimes,
and how particular —
MRS. BREWSTER: "Yes, yes, Nan, we
all know how he likes to see his pretty
wife arrayed like the lilies of the field,
that toil not, neither do they spin. Were
his remarks rather torrid?"
MRS. HOLLISTER: "He declared it was
big enough for two of me, and if I didn't
take it off at once he would feel like a
bigamist."
MRS. BEVERLY (with good-humored
irony): "You went to the other extreme,
then, I suppose, and put on that exquisite,
rosy-posy dream of a gown."
MRS. HOLLISTER (brightly): "Why, how
did you know? That's exactly what I did.
I just had to keep that one when I sent the
others off."
MRS. BREWSTER (falling back dramati-
cally in her chair): "Aha! The plot
thickens. May I ask where your wonder-
ful rainbow wardrobe has vanished?"
MRS. HOLLISTER (earnestly): "Last
winter when the hard times swooped down
on us so suddenly, I was afraid to wear all
those lovely things Jack insisted on my
getting when his uncle's legacy came. I
thought people might suspect he had been
speculating if I began dressing so extrava-
gantly, and cause a run on the bank. One
often reads of such things."
MRS. MARSDEN: "But what became
of the gowns? You didn't send them to the
Salvation Army?"
MRS. HOLLISTER: "No, I packed them
off to Jack's cousin, Alice."
MRS. BREWSTER (jestingly): "Your
impulsive generosity must have greatly
pleased Mr. Hollister.
MRS. HOLLISTER: "He did think it
rather strange until I explained the real
business part of it and then, although I
couldn't see anything funny about it,
he laughed and laughed till he fairly
toppled over on the divan, and said if I
had only taken him into my confidence
earlier, he could have adjusted matters. He
would have posted Uncle Jabe's will by the
teller's window and made a sworn affidavit
that his wife had not embezzled any of the
bank's funds for her new finery."
MRS. MARSDEN (dryly): "Alice must
have felt herself a modern Cinderella when
the Prince in the guise of an expressman
arrived. I don't understand yet why you
chose to wave your wand over Alice Ward.
I always supposed she had a soul above
mere clothes."
MRS. HOLLISTER (warmly defensive):
"Why, she just loves fluffy, ruffly, trailing
things, but her salary as instructor in
Blank College isn't very large, and she
is helping to put two of her sisters through
the University, so she just has to buy
clothes that are neat and durable. Now
that I've told you so much about her, I'm
sure you will be interested to know I
had the happiest kind of a letter from her
this very morning. She announced her
engagement to Professor Willis and says
she dates his interest in her from the even-
ing she wore that shimmery butterfly
gown. She said it had a most magical
effect and symbolized a transformation
in her feelings. She was so light-hearted,
sparkling and attractive that she quite
surprised herself and others." (Mrs.
Marsden's colored cook, jolly and corpulentj
enters with a tray of tea and cakes, while
Mrs. Hollister is speaking, and as an old
family servant, feels privileged to remark
on what she has heard) .
DINAH: "'Deed, Miss Nannie, it's de
solumn truf. Clothes duz mak a heap
of difrunce. Look at dat wuthless Sally
Peters. She done bewitched our minister
wid de lace dress ob Miss Cuttings dat her
muther had home to wash and do up . Yaas,
um, clothes and what you eat duz mek de
pusson — specially what you eat. (Glanc-
ing down with a sigh at her ample propor-
tions, but adding more brightly): I done
guess you all will have to Fletcherize on
dem cakes, 'cause dat little rascal Mastah
Hughie and a passel ob his school-mates
done got into my pantry and most cleaned
it out. I'd be mighty pleased if Mistah
Fletcher would git after dem boys."
(Walks out majestically).
Miss ARCHIBALD (appreciatively): "Oh,
these delicious cakes! But what does
Dinah mean? Fletcher seems a name to
conjure with. Do pluck out the heart of
this mystery, Mary."
MRS. MARSDEN (laughing): "Oh, you all
know of Fletcher, the exponent of eating."
THE REVERSAL OF THE SCRIPTURES
329
MRS. PANOKEN: "We are all exponents
of eating, it seems to me. Do you mean
the man who insists on each mouthful
being chewed one hundred and forty
times?"
MRS. MARSDEN: "Oh, it isn't so bad
as that. He advocates masticating the
food until it becomes a liquid. He claims
it will increase your strength one hundred
per cent, both mentally and physically,
and decrease the cost of living. He also
affirms it will make you happier, healthier
and therefore more useful."
MRS. BREWSTER: "But where does
Dinah come into the story? Did you
explain the system to her?"
MRS. MARSDEN (with a reminiscent
smile}: "Yes, Dinah is always complain-
ing of a misery in her stomach and it is
simply because she stuffs herself on the
good things she concocts — so I went into
the kitchen one day when she was eating.
She had enough set out to satisfy the
whole family. I told her what to do and
said I was sure she would feel much better
if she would try it — (a pause}.
MRS. HOLLISTER: "What happened
then, Cousin Mary?"
MRS. MARSDEN (gleefully): "I went
out again at three o'clock. Dinah still
sat at the table. Still chewing. 'Why,
Miss Mary,' she said, 'de misery done left
my stummick, but now hit's in my jaws.
They's so tired I can skasely budge 'em.'
'Why not stop?' I suggested. She looked
at me in amazement. 'Why, honey, I
ain't et skasely anything yit. I has to
eat to keep up my strength. (Most of
the chicken, the sweet potatoes, salad and
corn bread had disappeared}. Things duz
suttinly taste good and juicy,' she continued
in a tone intended to convey her impartial
judgment, 'but my jaws is jist like a merry-
go-round. Meks me sorter dizzy. Cohse
hit's all right fur you and Mas'r John who
don't have nuttin' to do but help mek de
laws, but whar am I gwine git de time fur
udder t'ings ef I has to set here so long
ebbery meal?' 'Mr. Fletcher says we
don't need to eat so much if we chew the
food well/ I said. 'Huh, honey, I guess
he'd change his mind if he'd step into old
Dinah's kitchen. He wouldn't be sassified
wid jist one stingy piece of my Lady
Baltimore cake, or two or three of my
waffles, or anything else I cook; now
would he, honey?' I weakly agreed and
fled."
Miss ARCHIBALD (smiling mischievously):
"I don't wonder that you were overcome
by the tide of Dinah's eloquence. It
cast a spell over me, too. This has been a
wonderfully exhilarating and instructive
afternoon — I have learned that to be
happy, healthy, sparkling and attractive,
one must wear her prettiest clothes and
Fletcherize. Unexpected vistas open up
before me! Our minister at home is still
unmarried! Perhaps I can find a duplicate
of Miss Cutting's lace gown and pay for
it by becoming a disciple of Fletcher."
MRS. MARSDEN: "I perceive you have
also learned the recipe for eternal youth,
Pauline. The receptive mind never grows
old. I foresee the success of your experi-
ment, and that Dinah will insist on baking
your wedding cake."
MRS. BEVERLY: "It does seem as if
these modern times demand a reversal of
the Scriptural injunction — 'Take no heed
what ye shall eat, or wherewithal ye shall
be clothed.' "
jftrst &tb to tf)e injureb
By H.H. HARTUNG, M.D.
BOSTON, MASS.
Major Surgeon, Medical Department, Coast Artillery Corps, M.V. M.; Fellow of the Massachusetts Medical
Society, American Medical Association, Association of Military Surgeons of the United States,
Instructor in First Aid to the Injured to the Boston Police Department, Metro-
politan Park Police and the Fall River Police Department
PART IV
POISONS and Poisoning. Any sub-
•* stance which, taken or absorbed into
the body, will produce death, is a poison.
Poisons act in several different ways,
either by destroying the tissues or by acting
upon the brain and nervous system. Those
which act as an irritant by destroying
the mucous membrane of the mouth,
oesophagus, stomach and intestines are
known as irritant poisons. Those that
act upon the brain and nervous system
are known as systemic poisons. An
irritant poison produces violent pain and
cramps in the stomach and bowels, nausea,
vomiting and sometimes convulsions. A
systemic poison, sometimes known as a
narcotic poison, produces stupor, numb-
ness, drowsiness, coldness and stiffness of
the extremities, cold perspiration, vertigo,
weakened eyesight, delirium and sometimes
paralysis of the extremities. Both the irri-
tant and systemic poisons are frequently
taken for suicidal purposes and also some-
times by mistake. It is not always neces-
sary that a poison be swallowed — many of
the fumes of dangerous drugs are so power-
ful as to cause death from simply inhaling
the fumes — as an example, prussic or
hydrocyanic acid. Then again certain
metals in which people work daily grad-
ually become absorbed through the skin
and produce a chronic diseased condition
from which they frequently die— for
example, lead found in paints from which
so many painters have been poisoned.
The reason why, in the past, there have
been so many suicides from poisonous
drugs, is the fact that up to within a short
time, it has been a comparatively easy
matter for anyone to go to a drug store
and get any kind of a poison, without a
physician's prescription. Even the most
deadly drugs, such as carbolic acid, ar-
senic, opium, cocaine, etc., have been
obtainable without any question. Now,
however, in most states and large cities,
on account of laws passed, it is much
more difficult and in some places almost
impossible to obtain poisonous drugs,
except when prescribed by a physician for
legitimate purposes, and if the laws are
only more strictly enforced, it will soon
be impossible for anyone to obtain them.
Then again, there are many instances
where people are accustomed to have a
family medicine chest, in which are kept
not only harmless remedies, but, owing to
carelessness, also alongside of them the
most dangerous poisons, without having
them properly labeled; and sometimes in
an emergency, perhaps in the middle of
the night, in the dark, thinking they can
place their hands on some harmless
remedy, they get a poison by mistake and
do not realize their mistake until it is too
late. Such powerful poisons should never
under any circumstances be kept in the
same place \uth household remedies.
Among the various irritant poisons,
taken either intentionally or by mistake,
are those containing arsenic, such as Paris
green, rat poisons, fly papers and solu-
tions, also the various salts of mercury,
lead, phosphorus and various substances
used for scientific purposes. Also the
strong concentrated acids, carbolic, nitric,
sulphuric, etc., and the strong alkalies,
soda and potash.
It is a strange, but interesting fact,
that one of the most frequent irritant
poisons used for suicidal purposes is car-
bolic acid, and a more agonizing death
could not be selected. Why anyone should
select this poison, it is hard to understand,
330
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
331
unless on account of the fact that it is
cheap and easily obtainable. This form
of poisoning can usually be easily recog-
nized by the odor, which is well known,
and by the white burns or marks on the
lips and mouth which are typical of car-
bolic acid poisoning. The first aid treat-
ment, as well as any kind of treatment
that can be given is the same. In the
first place, send for the nearest physician
and notify him that it is a case of carbolic
acid poisoning that he is expected to treat,
so that he can bring a stomach pumpx and
the proper chemical antidote in order that
he can be prepared to treat the case prop-
erly. In the meantime, as carbolic acid
kills quickly, the first aid treatment must
be prompt in order to get results. If
possible cause the patient to vomit, by
giving an emetic, such as ipecac or salt
and water — a tablespoonful to a pint of
warm water. This, however, frequently
fails to work on account of the irritated
condition of the mucous membrane of the
stomach. One of the best chemical anti-
dotes is epsom salt in solution. Another
good chemical antidote is alcohol — the
only trouble with this remedy being that
it cannot be given in a pure form. It has
to be diluted with water, and for that
reason loses its efficiency. Just exactly
why alcohol counteracts the effect of car-
bolic acid is not known, but if, for instance,
carbolic acid is splashed on the hands, if
they are at once immersed in absolute
alcohol, there will be no resulting burn.
There are as many systemic poisons as
irritant,' and these are used intentionally
and accidentally. Most of them are the
refined drugs used for medicinal purposes,
such as opium, morphine, belladonna,
strychnine and many others. One of the
most important differences between irritant
and systemic poisons is that the irritant
poison begins to act immediately and pro-
duces its deadly effect quickly, whereas
the systemic poison has to be absorbed and
carried to the brain and nervous system
before results are fatal. Thus it can
readily be seen that while in all forms of
poisoning it is important to act quickly,
it is of the utmost importance in systemic
poisoning to remove the poison before it
has a chance to be absorbed.
Probably the most frequent systemic
poison used is opium in some form, either
laudanum or morphine. The symptoms
of a case of opium-poisoning are as a rule
typical. There is usually a sickish, sweetish
odor to the breath, the person is either
very drowsy or in a profound stupor and
if not too far gone, can be aroused by
shouting in his ear or by violent shaking,
but sinks into slumber again at once
when left alone. The respirations are
very much slower than normal, and may be
reduced to four or five a minute. The
pupils of the eyes are always contracted
to a pin-point. The first aid treatment con-
sists of first sending for a physician and
notifying him of the nature of the poison.
Then in the meantime give an emetic,
such as has already been suggested, and
if the patient can swallow give two or
three pints of warm salt water and thus
produce vomiting. The reason for this
is that it dilutes the poison and when the
patient vomits, the stomach is washed
out. One" of the chemical antidotes for
opium poisoning is tannic acid, which
can be dissolved in the warm salt solu-
tion. After the patient has vomited and
if he can swallow he should be made
to drink large quantities of strong black
coffee, as this stimulates the heart and
respiration. Besides this the patient must
be kept awake by lashing with switches
or by walking him up and down between
two attendants. Frequently it becomes
necessary to resort to artificial respiration.
Another drug which is usually taken
accidentally is strychnine, in the form of
pills, and this unfortunate accident hap-
pens most often to young children, who
get hold of a box of pills and think they
are candy, which results as a rule in a
horrible death and suffering. The typical
symptoms of strychnine poisoning are
violent convulsions. These convulsions
come on suddenly and are sometimes so
severe as to throw the person several feet,
then again they are sometimes so severe
that the head and feet are drawn back-
wards, so that the body is doubled up
backwards. These convulsions follow
rapidly one after the other and soon result
in death. The slightest noise, touch or
draught of air is sufficient to cause the
convulsions. The first aid treatment is
to first send for a physician, notifying
332
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
him of the nature of the poison. In the
meantime give an emetic and large quanti-
ties of warm water with tannic acid dis-
solved in it, as the chemical antidote; after
that it is up to the physician to administer
bromides or an anaesthetic to overcome
the convulsions. The thing to do if pos-
sible, is to get rid of the poison before it
has had a chance to be absorbed, for if .
a poisonous dose of strychnine has been
absorbed, it is almost impossible to coun-
teract its effect, and as a result the person
dies.
General rules to be followed in the first
aid treatment of poisonings. Send for the
nearest physician at once and notify him
of the kind of poison suspected so that he
may bring a stomach tube with him, also
the chemical antidote for the particular
poison taken. In the meantime, provoke
vomiting, by making the patient run his
finger down his throat, or give an emetic,
such as ipecac, or give salt and water.
By making the patient drink two or three
pints of water and then causing him to
vomit, it washes out the stomach almost
as well as a stomach pump. He should
be made to vomit several times, but not
to such an extent as to cause exhaustion.
After the stomach has been emptied
sufficiently, a bland soothing liquid should
be given, to coat over the irritated mucous
membrane of the stomach, particularly
if the poison has been an irritant one.
Milk with eggs, flour and water, gruel and
mucilaginous drinks are soothing to the
irritated stomach. Frequently following
poisoning the patient is weak and depressed,
feet and hands are cold, with cold per-
spiration on the forehead and palms of
the hands. This is due to the shock to
the nervous system, and requires stimu-
lants, such as hot drinks, tea, coffee,
gruel or broths.
For acid poisons use alkaline antidotes,
such as lime, whiting, soda, chalk, plaster,
tooth powder and even wood ashes.
For alkaline poisons use acid antidotes,
such as vinegar or lemon juice. In giving
an antidote, never wait for it to dissolve,
but stir it up in water and give immediately.
The following table gives a complete list
of the most common irritant and systemic
poisons, their symptoms and treatment :
Poisons
Unknown
Acids
Sulphuric
Nitric
Muriatic
Acid
Oxalic
Acid
Carbolic
Alkalies
Hartshorn
Soda
Potash
Lye
Arsenic
Paris Green
Scheele's Green
Fowler's Solution
Corrosive Sublimate
Tartar Emetic
Phosphorus
Iodine
Opium
Laudanum
Paregoric
Chloral
Belladonna
Nux Vomica
Strychnine
Aconite
Alcohol
Chloroform
Decayed meats and
vegetables
Symptoms
Staining and shriveling of lips and
mouth; severe pain in mouth, gullet,
stomach, and bowels; intense vomit-
ing.
Staining and shriveling of lips and
mouth; severe pain in mouth, gullet,
stomach, and bowels, intense vomiting.
White burned marks on lips and tongue ;
severe pain in mouth, gullet, stomach,
and bowels; insensibility, collapse.
Staining and shriveling of lips and
mouth; severe pain in mouth, gullet,
stomach, and bowels, intense vomit-
ing.
Pain in stomach and bowels; purging;
faintness; vomiting.
Pain in stomach and bowels; purging;
faintness, and vomiting.
Pain in stomach and bowels; purging;
faintness, and vomiting.
Staining and severe burning of lips and
mouth; severe pain in mouth, gullet,
stomach, and bowels.
Patient drowsy; later insensibility;
slow, deep snoring breathing; pupils
of eyes contracted very small; flushed
face at first, then livid.
Pupils of eyes dilated; peculiar flush
of face; dry throat; gait unsteady;
delirium.
Spasmodic convulsions, stiffness of
muscles.
Peculiar numbness in lips and tongue ;
later, numbness and tingling in arms
or legs.
Deep stupor, snoring breathing; face
pale.
Sickness and vomiting.
Treatment
Emetic, bland liquids, stimulation.
Alkali, bland liquids, rest, stimu-
lation.
Emetic, chalk, bland liquids.
Alcohol in large quantities, bland
liquids, rest, stimulation.
No emetic, an acid (vinegar) ,
bland liquid, rest, stimulation.
Emetic, beaten-up egg, castor oil,
rest, stimulation.
Emetic, strong tea, raw eggs and
milk, castor oil, stimulation.
Emetic, magnesia, eggs beaten up,
no oil.
Emetic, starch and water, bland
liquids.
Emetic, keep patient awake by
vigorous measures ; keep up breath-
ing; artificial respiration if neces-
sary; strong coffee.
Emetic, rest, warmth to legs and
arms; strong coffee.
Emetic, purgative; absolute quiet.
Emetic, warmth; strong coffee.
Emetic ; 20 drops of aromatic spirits
of ammonia in a teaspoonful or
more of water; keep warm.
Emetic, purgative, teaspoonful
powdered charcoal.
The GREAT COUP
0 By FRANK* E • CHANNON
Illustrated Qy ARTHUR HUTCHINS ^
( Continued from December number )
CHAPTER XV
EXPLANATIONS —
'Y first concern, as I hurried be-
low to make preparations for
the transfer, was as to Ward's
condition. My own plan was
to leave him on the "Homer," induce
my lady .to accompany him if possible,
and so obtain medical treatment for him
at Scarborough, but to my gratification,
I discovered him conscious and apparently
doing well, with my lady in close atten-
dance. Despite the rolling of the little
craft and the. decidedly cramped quarters,
she had succeeded in making him quite
comfortable. The hemorrhage had been
stopped, and the main danger now to be
feared was the reaction from the shock.
"What's next move, old man?" he
whispered weakly, as I leaned over him.
My lady had retired for a space, leaving
the old woman to help in case of necessity.
I told him what I proposed to do, but he
shook his head in disapproval, muttering:
"No, no."
I knew it would be most unwise to
excite or cross him in any way, so I merely
inquired quietly what he thought best.
"Get me aboard the other ship," he
whispered, "I want — to — be — in — at the
death— and — I may be of — of some use,
Milton — in advice — Get me — there."
"Do you think you can stand being
transferred?" I questioned.
He nodded his head, and I saw by the
look on his white face that he was de-
termined. Just at that moment my lady
returned, and I arose to offer her my seat
by his side.
"I want to take his pulse," she ex-
plained, as she placed her fourth finger
on his wrist, and lay a tiny little gold
watch on the coverlet. "Isn't it remark-
able," she continued, "my watch went
in spite of that ducking — I thought water
always stopped watches."
It was the first time she had referred
to the events of the past night. Before
I could reply, she went on: "I have not
thanked either of you for rescuing me yet,
but I will — I do thank you very much — I
scarcely know how it all happened — there
was the shock and I was in the water before
I realized it, but I must not speak of these
things now; they will only excite Mr.
Willet."
**Ward grinned, and shook his head. "Tell
her, Milton," he whispered.
"Tell her what?"
"That I nearly knocked her over the
head for hanging on," he explained.
My lady heard his faint whisper, and
her features lighted up with a smile. "I
would not have blamed you if you had;
I must have been terribly in the way at
that most inopportune moment; tell me
truly, was it all arranged between you;
did you contrive that the ships should
bump together and so give you the chance
to escape?"
"Ask no questions, my lady," I advised.
"And I shall be told no stories, I sup-
pose; that is very sage admonition, Mr.
Brice."
"Miss DeArcey," I said, changing the
subject, "what would you wish us to do
now? Mr. Willet and myself are going
aboard the little craft that is alongside;
if you wish, you can remain on this boat
and be landed at Scarborough." I watched
her closely, as I made the suggestion.
"Oh, no," she exclaimed, her face flush-
ing up, "I wish to go where you go — you—
(333)
334
THE GREAT COUP
you see, Mr. Brice," she continued, con-
fusedly, "I — I wouldn't quite know what
to do or where to go if I was put ashore
at Scarborough — can't I — can't I stay
'with — with you?"
Ward was dozing off. There was no
one in the little cuddy but my wounded
chum, my lady and myself. She looked
most bewitchingly pretty, as she stood
there with that embarrassed, appealing
look. A thousand times since our inter-
view in the stateroom on my first arrival
on board the "Revenge" had I cursed
myself for my churlish behavior then,
but never more vehemently than at that
moment. She seemed such a child — and
yet such a woman. How had she ever
become mixed up with that desperate
crew and their fiendish aim?
"I can — can't I?" she was almost plead-
ing.
I cursed myself for my hesitation. "Of
course, of course, my lady," I assured
her. "In fact," I continued, "I consider
myself responsible for the disaster that
befell you, because — "
"Oh, you must think me most horrid,"
she half whispered, glancing hastily at
Ward's still form, "most horrid to fie
associated with these — these men. I
wish — oh, I wish I could make you under-
stand how it all happened. I didn't know
they were going to — to be so desperate.
I — I want to explain something to you,
Mr. Brice — now — may I? You know I
had just left the convent at St. Albans,
where I had been educated. I — I have no
parents — I — I told you a story about the
Count. He is — is only a connection of
mine on my mother's side. Oh, what
must you think of me? He came to St.
Albans; he was my only relative — and
took me away, and then he explained a
small part of this horrible plot — only a
very small part, and I — I — it seemed
such a lark — -I agreed, and they used me
for things they could not do — things in
which a woman was required, do you
understand? I played my part, but little
by little I began to understand what they
intended doing, and then I charged the
Count with it, and he laughed in my face.
What could I do? I was practically in
their power — oh, do you believe me? Can
you understand how it all happened? I
worried and worried. I saw how wrong
it was, and last night at dinner when you
and Mr. Willet were there, I determined
to get away if possible — if — if it was not
too late. I was — "
"Mademoiselle," I interrupted, "tell me,
did you fall overboard last night on pur-
pose?"
She shook her head, as she smiled
through the tears that started to her
eyes. "No," she whispered, "I had not
nerve enough for that. I think — I think
that Providence intervened there — oh,
I am so happy now that I am free from
them — can you — oh, you must, you will,
won't you — you will stop this horrible
thing? I feel as if I was responsible for
it. Do, do stop it, Mr. Brice."
In her intense eagerness she had drawn
so near to me that her breath fanned my
cheeks. Her hands were clasped, as if
in prayer, and her beautiful violet eyes
were pleading with mine.
With a mighty effort I cast aside a
mad temptation to take her in my arms
and rain my kisses upon that upturned
face. I drew myself up to my full height.
"Mademoiselle," I said, gravely, "with
God's help, we can and will stop this
thing; can I count on you?"
"Here is my hand upon it," she said
simply, with a frank, comradish air.
Seized by an uncontrollable impulse,
I pressed her hand to my lips. "I am
thrice armed now," I whispered.
There was a sound of feet outside, and
a voice called loudly:
"Mister Brice, Mister Brice, be ye an'
yer chum an' the lady ready — there's
no time fur loafin' round."
I strode toward the door. "We are
ready," I said, "but I want a stretcher
of some sort for Mr. Willet — he insists
on coming on the ' Scout.' ';
"I knowed as he would, an' the boys
is bringing one down — here it be — easy,
there, lads, easy, luff up."
Ward roused himself, and we placed him
gently on the improvised stretcher and
carried him without mishap up the com-
panionway, and then lowered him into
the little gig that was waiting alongside.
A five-minute's pull, and we were under
the lea of the speedy -looking "Scout."
It was ticklish work, in the rising swell,
THE GREAT COUP
335
to get him safely aboard, but it was ac-
complished without accident, and as soon
as I had seen him comfortably settled
in the little after cabin, I again made the
trip between ships and brought over my
lady.
She sat quiet and reserved by* my side
in the stern sheets, as a couple of sturdy
fishermen bent to their oars and sent
the little gig flying over the gray water
that lay between the two ships. The
old woman aboard the "Homer" had
discovered somewhere an Inverness water-
proof, and in this my lady had encased
herself. Her mood had changed again,
and she was now the happy, gay, careless
schoolgirl. "Isn't it a lark?" she cried.
"Here I am in the middle of the North
Sea with not a trunk to my name — my
entire worldly possessions consisting of
a last year's dinner gown and an Inver-
ness stormcoat!" And then the school-
girl was blotted out and the woman stood
in its place, as* she leaned toward me and
inquired earnestly: "Is she — that ship,
I mean — fast enough to catch them?
And," she added, as she gazed -anxiously
into my face, "what will you do when
you do catch them?"
"Stop their game," I muttered grimly,
my thoughts again turning to the enemy,
"or — " I added, and then stopped.
"Or what?" she demanded.
"My lady," I said, "to use what you
would call an 'Americanism' it's Tike's
Peak or Bust.' "
CHAPTER XVI
FORCED DRAFT
The "Homer," like a wounded duck
was trailing away toward the Yorkshire
coast. The "Scout," black smoke pour-
ing from her high yellow stack, her sharp,
lofty bows cutting through the swell
like a knife, was tearing northward as
fast as two thousand horsepower could
drive her turbine engines, the white foam
trailing astern, as her twin screws churned
the waters. Her forward deck was piled
high with coal, for Captain Jimmy had
left the "Homer" only enough fuel to
carry her in. "Me bunkers* is full," I
heard him exclaim, "but I wants me decks
down with Newcastle, too, fur this 'ere
boat's a witch fur burning up the coal."
On the bridge, the ancient skipper was
pacing briskly to and fro, pausing now and
again to call some instruction to the helms-
man inside the wheel house, who answered
with a steady, monotonous, "Aye, aye,
sir."
It was a typical day for the German
Ocean — a drizzling rain, a heavy rolling
sea, and but little wind. For all he was
twelve miles out, Captain Jimmy had a
man in the bows with the lead, who ever
and anon sang back in matter-of-fact
tones: "Twenty fathom, sir — eighteen
fathom, sir — twenty -two fathom, sir."
They had a lookout in the bows and an-
other in the crow's nest, and from the man
aloft presently came the shout: "A fishin'
fleet ahead on the starboard bow, sir;"
followed instantly by the sharp order from
Captain Jimmy of "Port your helm."
"Port it is, sir? Aye, aye," came the im-
mediate reply. The "Scout" answered
her helm like a thirty-footer, and the
mist swallowed up the fishing boats. Evi-
dently, the skipper did not wish his where-
abouts reported by sharp eyes.
I was standing close to Captain Jimmy,
endeavoring to pierce the mist, when
the look-out cried: "Steamer dead ahead,
sir," and after a moment's inspection of
the stranger, the skipper called down the
tube, somewhat hastily:
"Captain Harvey, on deck wid ye,
please."
A moment or so later and the burly
form of the "Homer's" captain scrambled
tip the ladder.
"Be that her — take a look?" demanded
Captain Jimmy, handing his glass over.
"Looks uncommon like her — by Jinks,
it is her — but, what in thunder has she
done with them two barkers that was on
her? Can't have got 'em aboard the other
craft yet, eh?"
"There ain't no twelve-inch guns on
her that I can see," muttered Captain
Jimmy.
"Mr. Brice, can you see 'em? You be
more usted to them toys than we be,"
and Captain Harvey thrust the glasses
into my hand.
I swept the decks of the "Assist" (for
her it undoubtedly was) carefullv, but
not a sign of her cargo was to be seen. Her
336
THE GREAT COUP
two big guns were gone. "She's got rid
of them," I said, turning toward the two
salts.
"Could she have got 'em aboard t'other
ship, think ye?" demanded Captain Har-
vey.
"That's what she's done with them;
they had them all slung ready to hoist,
and if they had the nerve to make the
transfer, there's nothing to stop them.
The trouble was they had no one on board
who was used to such work, but when they
lost me they had to do it. Depend on
it, Captain, that the 'Revenge* now has
those two guns, and is headed north as
fast as her triple screws can propel her.
There's nothing between her and her
quarry, and there's nothing can stop her
now but this little craft, twenty miles
astern. It's up to us."
"Then, by Jinks, we'll make good!"
thundered Captain Harvey Cassel, as he
gripped the rail of the bridge in suppressed
wrath. "What say, Captain Jimmy?"
he demanded.
For answer, the ancient sailor spoke
a few words into the tube. There was an
immediate tinkling of bells, and I felt
the "Scout" shake herself like a thing
of life, as her powerful engines commenced
to work under forced draft, and her long,
black hull carved its course through the
rolling deep with increasing speed. Then
Captain Jimmy turned on his shipmate:
"Captain Harvey," he croaked, "get ye
below now and shake up them stokers;
work 'em two on and two off, and tell
'em it's a third extra for short shifts."
"Put me on the end of a shovel!" I
cried. "I can take my trick in the bunkers
if you're short-handed."
"Nay, nay," muCtered Captain Harvey,
"stay ye here hon the bridge. Ye 're
more use — Stand clear on that craft,
Captain Jimmy, we've no use fur her now —
Hi'm below if ye wants me," and next
moment his broad shoulders disappeared
down the ladder.
The "Scout" had not been loafing be-
fore, but now she was fairly eating up the
distance. She was built on beautifully
fine lines — long, slender and graceful.
Her steel hull was vibrating to the music
of racing machinery; the black clouds of
smoke were fairly boiling from her tall
stack, and the spray was flying like snow
over her high bows. The wind was rising,
and the sea becoming more choppy and
she shivered like a thing of life as her
master drove her into the teeth of it. The
"Assist" was already lost to sight in the
scudding mist, which were now breaking
up before the fast-rising gale.
The dash for the Lofodens had com-
menced. The "Scout" was racing under
forced draft, and as I realized the mo-
mentous results that depended on her —
on us — I caught the fever of the mad race,
and true to the fighting breed from which
I sprang, I longed for the battle.
Eight bells clanged out. It was noon,
and the watch changed. I went inside the
chart house. She was doing 21.9; both
propellers making within a few revolutions
of each other, the engines running even and
smoothly. Now and again the screws
would be lifted clear as the racing craft
dipped her nose into one of the great swells,
and the staunch hull would quiver and
wrack itself to the race of the blades as
they were lifted, whirling madly, out from
the churning sea. Old Captain Jimmy did
not spare her. He drove the long, slender
hull into the teeth of the rising gale. The
foam surged over her bows and charged
racing up to her forward companion way;
then leaped in mad riot through her scup-
pers. Her hatches were battened down
and everything made snug for a wild night.
The new watch came out in their oilskins;
the bow lookouts were not replaced, and
the watch in the crow's nest was lashed
there.
"Hi ain't takin' no chances with man
overboard ter night; Hi ain't a-goin' ter
stop fur nothin'," croaked old Captain
Jimmy, as I joked him over his precau-
tions. "Hill be abeam o' the Shetlands
this time termorrow," he continued, "an',
if they be afeared ter drive that craft on
theirs, they'll be takin' me wash then."
"If we're to save the game it has to be
done in the next forty-eight hours," I
responded. "Once that craft gets them
under range of her twelve-inch, they are
lost."
"Hat wot distance now, sir, do ye sup-
pose they could stand ter get in their
knocks?" inquired Captain Jimmy, as he
clung to the rail of the rolling bridge.
THE GREAT COUP
337
"Six thousand yards would be easy work
for them."
1 "Ye don't say now! "
"With those fine pieces they would have
the whip hand at eight, or even ten thou-
sand in a moderate sea. There's only one
chance, Captain Jimmy; that is for us to
get word and let them run for it."
"I knows one o' 'em as won't run, Mister
Brice," affirmed the old salt.
"I know another," I said quickly.
Captain Harvey Cassel had climbed up
the ladder as we were speaking. He over-
heard the last two sentences, and his great
hand came down on my shoulder with a
crash. "By the Lord Harry," he roared,
"it does me good to hear ye, fur I was
minded the same way 'bout 'em. Hi '11
back Eddie's boy, and Mack ain't a son
of the hold country if he runs fur it, and —
"Aye, aye," interrupted Captain Jimmy,
"the sayin' is 'never two but three,' and
his nibs with the fierce upper lip covering
ain't no lout when it comes to a scrap;
there'll be only one quitter in my hopin-
ion, and that's his — "
"Gentlemen," I interposed, "you over-
look one fact in thus rejoicing in the fight-
ing qualities of those we seek to save."
"AnJ that is wot?" demanded both the
salts in one voice.
"That it will make our task the more
difficult. We seek to warn them that they
may escape. They will wish to remain and
fight."
Captain Jimmy glared at me for a mo-
ment, then his old thin voice croaked out,
"An' good fur 'em, that's wot I say."
"Hand that's wot Hi say," bellowed the
master of the " Homer."
"And that's what I say," I repeated,
"for we'll stand by them in any case, eh,
gentlemen?"
"Sairtinly," croaked Captain Jimmy. ^
"Bet your life," roared the "Homer's"
skipper.
"Here's my hand on it," I cried.
And we three gripped hands on our com-
pact.
CHAPTER XVII
AMATEUR SURGEONRY
"Dinner's hat two bells," remarked Cap-
tain Jimmy. "We 'as dinner hat dinner
time an' not hat supper on this 'ere craft."
"I'm ready for it now," I confessed, as I
climbed down off the bridge.
I discovered my lady making herself
very much at home and very useful.
"I was just on the point of sending
Tommy" — indicating a diminutive-looking
cabin boy — "to hunt you up," she ex-
claimed. "Martha and I have set the
table, and the chef has managed to excel
himself. See," and she waved her hand
toward an inviting-looking table. "Lin-
en, silver and decorations, but they are
spoiled by these horrid rail things that
Martha would put on. The first course is
soup. Tommy, serve it, please — can you
manage to walk along with it — it is rolling
dreadfully, isn't it?" she concluded, appeal-
ing to me.
I could but smile at the elaborate repast
she had contrived to conjure from the
galley. "How about Mr. Willet?" I in-
quired, my thoughts turning toward my
chum.
"I was just going to tell you," she rattled
on, "he's doing so finely; he has no temper-
ature to speak of, but really, you know,
the ball should be probed for; I wonder how
we are going to do it — there is no surgeon
aboard, of course."
"I guess that's up to me, mademoiselle;
I have done it before. By the way, have
you seen Captain Harvey lately?"
"He passed through here a few minutes
ago all black and grimy. He said he was
'showin' the boys how to fire up/ and he
certainly looked like it."
Captain Jimmy joined us a few minutes
later, and we three sat down to that strange
dinner. It was very evident, however, that
the old salt's mind was on the bridge rather
than at the table, and after ten minutes of
furious eating, he abruptly left us, and
rolled up the companionway.
"I'm going in to -see Ward," I said to
my lady.
"Martha is with him, of cour.se, and he
seemed quite comfortable when I left him;
if we can only find the ball everything will
go all right, I am sure," she replied.
Together we made our way into the
stuffy little cuddy. Ward was sleeping
soundly, and we did not disturb him. The
sea was increasing every moment, as was
evidenced by the rolling and pitching of the
338
THE GREAT COUP
"Scout." I offered my arm to Mademoi-
selle, and piloted her along the narrow
passageway back to the cabin.
"Now," she suggested, "I am sure you
wish to go on deck again, so don't worry
about me; I am going in to look after Mr.
Ward. Tonight, or in the morning I wish
you could see about probing; I think it
should be done, don't you?"
"I would prefer a smoother sea before I
do; we will see what the morning brings,"
I said, "and meanwhile" — I paused.
"Yes," she inquired, looking up at me,
"what?"
"You must try to make yourself as com-
fortable as possible — as comfortable as
circumstances will permit."
"Oh," she laughed gaily, "do not worry
yourself about me; I have lots to occupy
my time; I must look after Mr. Ward — I
am his nurse, you know, and — and, in any
case — you — you didn't ask me to come
with you, did you? — I am sure I must be
terribly in your way."
"I don't know what we should do with-
out you," I returned truthfully. "You
have been of great service, mademoiselle,
to my friend, and we — I am very much
under obligation to you. He would have
bled to death but for you; will you accept
my thanks, mademoiselle?"
She inclined her head with that pretty
little foreign gesture of hers. "I have
accepted much from you already, but your
thanks, although I deserve them but little,
I value the most — oh, I wish — I wish," she
cried, clasping her shapely hands together,
"that this terrible thing was ended — I fear
for the results; I fear the conflict that must
come; you do not know those men as I
know them, Mr. Brice; they will — they
must win."
"They won't; they shall not win," I
retorted, as I left her and hastened on deck
again.
I was in consultation with Captain Jim-
my for half an hour in the charthouse, and
after that fought my way forward to the
foremast and climbed into the crow's-nest
with the lookout. Then I went down into
the engine room. A beautifully compact
little turbine was installed, and Captain
Harvey and four firemen , all stripped to the
waist, were shovelling coal into the glowing
furnaces with steady precision. It was
stifling hot, of course, and the stokers were
working in short shifts, two hours on and
two off. The engineer, a blocky-looking
Scotchman, and his assistant, a young fel-
low of the same nationality, watched with
keen eyes the working of the powerful tur-
bines, moving about amongst the glitter-
ing, polished machinery, oiling here, adjust-
ing there, and ever keeping watchful eyes
upon the indicators. Sometimes there
would be a tinkling of bells, as the skipper
on the bridge called for more speed, and
then a few short words from the tube.
All was very businesslike, with a lack of
excitement or undue bustle. I went away
well pleased with conditions below decks —
there would be no hitch there, I was con-
vinced. I did not offer my services again
at the shovel, for I realized I was in no
condition to keep pace with those brawny
firemen in their exhausting work.
It was Captain Jimmy, himself, who
proposed that I should handle the "Scout"
for a spell, as he expressed it. "Ye can do,
can't ye?" he demanded, as I stood beside
him again on the bridge.
I admitted that I thought myself cap-
able of the task. When a man has man-
oeuvered a great fifteen-thousand ton bat-
tleship in company with a dozen others in
line of column ten cables apart, and exe-
cuted the "gridiron movement" a few times,
he is not afraid to undertake the handling
of a little hundred and fifty ton dispatch
boat that answers her helm like a motor
craft.
Captain Jimmy watched me as I took
charge, and then after a few minutes'
scrutiny, rolled away, apparently satisfied
that his idol was in safe hands. Truth to
tell, there was little enough skill required
at this time. All I had to do was to keep
her head to the laid course, and now and
again ease her, as she wallowed into the
heavy swells. She was speeding magnifi-
cently, reeling off twenty-two and a frac-
tion with but slight variation hour after
hour. Captain Jimmy had a right to feel
proud of his handy little craft.
Once a great greyback caught her, and
boarded her amidship, racing across her
deck and leaping off through the scuppers
to port. I caught a glimpse of her skip-
per's inquiring old face, peeping at me
from the shelter of the main deck hatch,
THE GREAT COUP
339
as if to demand, "What be ye hat now?"
I steadied her in a moment, and the thing
did not occur again.
At nine o'clock that night, just as two
bells clanged out, I made out the Stavanger
light some three miles off to starboard.
Captain Jimmy had laid a close course, and
cut his corners fine, but as he had assured
me he knew the Norway coast as well as
he did his own Yorkshire, I was not uneasy.
The old salt relieved me fifteen minutes
later, and I was not sorry to climb down
and get something to eat; that North Sea
wind certainly has the knack of giving a
man an appetite.
My lady and I spent an hour with Ward
that night. He was wonderfully bright —
quite his old self, indeed, and I was greatly
cheered.
"This thing must come out in the morn-
ing, Milton," he muttered, as I talked
quietly to him, "it's here, right here, close
up under the shoulder blade— I can feel it;
it went right through — feel !"
I carefully raised him and in a moment
my fingers had located the piece of lead.
It was there undoubtedly, within an inch of
the surface.
"I'll get it out now," I said, "there is no
use in waiting; it will all be over in a
moment."
"Won't you have to give me an anaes-
thetic?" he queried. .
"No, it's not necessary, even if I could
get any — just wait a moment."
I left him and made my way to the gal-
ley. I selected a sharp, curved knife that
the cook used for peeling potatoes, and in
five minutes had it as sharp as a razor;
then, enlisting the services of my lady, I
made the incision, and without a twist the
ball dropped out on the pillow. Ward gave
a grunt.
"It's out," I said, "look!" and I placed
the lead in his palm.
He smiled weakly, as he sank back.
"Thank God!" he muttered. "When can
I get up?"
"You look a lot like getting up," I said.
"But I will — I will tomorrow," he as-
serted, with determination.
"Let tomorrow take care of itself," I
said.
I left him resting easily, with Martha
acting as night nurse.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE CHASE
I stood a trick of four hours at the wheel
that night, as we raced on through the
blackness, coming on at two bells in the
after watch. The gale wore itself out by
morning, and almost the first gleam of
light showed me the Sulen Island scarce
two thousand yards off on the starboard
bow.
"Aren't you standing close in — too much
so?" I questioned of Captain Jimmy, who
had just come to relieve me.
"Hi ain't makin' no wide turns," he
chuckled, with -a broad grin. "But Hi ain't
a-goin' ter beach her neither, don't ye fear."
I had turned around to survey the bleak
coast aft of us, when I suddenly gripped
Captain Jimmy's arm.
"Look! " I exclaimed.
"By Jinks, " he muttered, "if she ain't
held us — crept up in the night — 'tis her,
ain't it?"
"That's her, I'll wager, but I'm only
judging by the smoke she's making — let out
your last link, Captain! "
I had seized his glasses and brought them
to bear on the clouds of black'smoke that
were pouring out four miles astern of us.
"She'll lose water now," he muttered,
"she darsent follow where Hi'm a-goin' —
she'll draw twenty foot, won't she?"
"All of it."
"Let her come, then," he growled, as he
stood yet further in toward the sinister-
looking coast — "By Jinks, look, she's a-
firin' on us! "
A sheet of water twenty feet high spout-
ed up half a mile astern, and then a dull,
heavy boom broke on our ears. I saw no
sign of the discharge; she was evidently
firing smokeless.
"She don't seem af eared ter fire on us in
these waters," growled the skipper. "She
can't do us damage at this distance, can
she?"
"Scarcely, unless by a lucky shot — get
away from her, Captain Jimmy, get away
as fast as your heels can show."
The old salt was talking in the tube,
evidently with Captain Harvey. "No,
stay ye below," I heard him say, "an' keep
them boys a-shovelling on the Newcastle —
340
THE GREAT COUP
give me every ounce you got, Captain
Harvey — send Jimmy to the tube." And
he talked now with the Scotch engineer.
The result was soon apparent.
The "Scout" began to tremble with in-
creased vibration; the black smoke fairly
boiled from her lofty stack, and the gaunt
cliffs loomed yet nearer to us. The ' ' Scout ' '
was letting out her last link
Closer, closer yet we stood in. I could
hear the angry surf breaking on the grim
rocks, and still Captain Jimmy held on his
course, heading her apparently straight for
the huge headland that blocked our vision
of the coast ahead. With barely twenty
cables sea room we rounded that menacing
cape, and as we doubled it and flew behind
its shelter on up the coast, there came a
crash high up above our heads and the
splinters of the shattered rocks fell almost
on our very decks.
"None ter soon," growled Captain Jim-
my, glancing aloft apprehensively, "now
we'll give her a run; a stern chase's a long
one."
"That was a close call," I warned, "a
lower elevation and they would have got
us; can we hold them for another twenty-
four hours?"
"Hi '11 do it if Hi has ter stop her up with
cotton wool! " swore the old man.
We tore across the wide bay and doubled
the next headland without getting a glimpse
of our pursuer.
"Twenty-three," muttered Captain Jim-
my, glancing at the dial, "Hi'd knowed it
was in her." He beamed on me with the
pardonable pride of a good skipper for a
good craft. "Now, if you'll go for'ard an'
have the boys shift that Newcastle from
the deck ter the bunkers hit '11 lighten her
by the head and make her steadier —
Hi'll bet there's room below fur hit
now."
It took us two hours to shift that deck
coal, and a dirty job it was, but the "Scout"
certainly travelled faster for the change,
and the bunkers were loaded to their top
planks. Not a sign of the "Revenge" did we
note during that time, but the quick suc-
cession of capes we doubled might easily
have hid her from us, even if she had
gained.
At noon we were abeam of the Fro
Islands, and then stood out for the long
leg across the Scandinavian Sea for the
West Ford. It was the last, long dash.
"They'll be bound ter sight us soon now,
and then it'll be just a long, stern chase,"
muttered Captain Jimmy.
"At any rate we shall see if they've
gained on us," I said.
"Twenty-three flat — she's a-keepin' it
hup," grinned the skipper. "She'll have
ter hump herself ter ketch us, I'm thinkin'."
The morning had come off wonderfully
clear and fine, but dark, purple clouds
looming up to the northwest warned us
that it would not last long. Three, four,
five, six miles astern we left the Fro Isles,
and still our chaser had not hove in sight.
Suddenly the lookout up aloft cried out:
"There she be, sir! Eight miles astern
ter port! "
"I'll run up and take a look at her," I
cried, as, suiting the action to the words, I
scrambled up the rigging. "Where away?"
I demanded a few moments later of the
lookout, as I reached the top.
"Three mile out, sir, and eight astern —
see her? "
I saw her. She was bowling along at her
best clip, but had lost a lot of time in clear-
ing the numerous capes. Now she saw us,
and altered her course a couple of points.
I endeavored to gauge how she was foot-
ing it. We were certainly not losing.
More, we were gaining! I was sure of it.
If the "Scout" could keep up this pace we
should reach our mark first. The Great
Coup would yet be spoiled, or at least,
their intended victims would get a fighting
chance for escape. I climbed hastily down
and reported to Captain Jimmy.
"We'll spoil 'em yet, we'll spoil 'em," he
muttered, his weather-beaten old face
wrinkling up like a map. "Gosh, if we
only had the wireless aboard," he lamented
a moment later. "Get you signallin' buntin*
all ready, Mister Brice," he ordered. "We
shan't be want in' it fur eighteen hours yet,
but have it ready, lad, have it ready."
A dull, heavy boom interrupted our con-
versation. We both glanced up hastily.
"Firm' again, be they — blast 'em!"
growled Captain Jimmy. "They can't hit
us at this distance, can they?" he demanded
of me.
"Not one chance in a hundred, but their
range is easily ten miles. It's like aiming
Three mile ou', sir, and eight astern — See her? "
342
THE GREAT COUP
at a cork when they try from that distance."
"Here comes a squall, too; they won't do
no more potting fur a spell, I figure."
With a whoop and a roar the storm came
down on us. The sky and sea was blotted
out almost in a minute, and the "Scout"
staggered, as the blast struck her, then
righting herself, as if ashamed of her fright,
tore through the charging waves un-
daunted.
Never have I seen a fiercer squall than
that one. It raged for an hour and a half,
and then died away as quickly as it came
upon us. My 'first anxiety as the tempest
lashed itself out was to locate again our
enemy. Our own speed had dropped to
eighteen knots for a great portion of the
time, and I did not doubt but that it had
also affected her speed. Nor was I dis-
appointed. She was hull down far away.
We had most certainly gained on her, and
Captain Jimmy rubbed his horny old hands
together and chuckled, as I reported to him
the result of my observations.
We lost sight of the chaser soon after-
ward, and all that day we tore along at a
speed but slightly varying between twenty-
two and a half and twenty-three knots.
" We'll have 'em beat by an hour an'
more when we gets ter Roost; ye be sure
as 'tis Roost — them Lofodens is a mighty
straggling group?" queried old Captain
Jimmy.
"I am sure of nothing," I retorted.
"Roost was simply the first rendezvous;
the four yachts were to meet there, but
they are liable to cruise off anywhere, but
my opinion is that will not get very far
from the group; most certainly they will
hold their conferences first before any move
is made. They were to meet there yester-
day, you know, and they would certainly
get no further than the visiting stage; to-
day will see them getting down to business,
I think, and tomorrow, unless we can warn
them, they will be surprised right in the
midst of it."
"We'll give 'em the tip, never you fear,
Mr. Brice, but wot Hi'm a-thinkin' of is
can they get away after we do, that's it."
"They can spread out and get four dif-
ferent ways at once if they wish to, "I sug-
gested.
"j?ut they won't," added Captain Jim-
my, promptly.
"No, they won't," I agreed, "and if
they stick it out together" — I paused.
"Then eighteen — the speed of their
slowest — is the speed of their fastest."
"Right — right ye be," snapped the old
salt, "but wot's the matter with takin' 'em
aboard this 'ere craft — hall four on 'em,
eh?"
"If we can persuade them, it is the best
thing that can be done," I said.
"I know wot ye be thinkin' on — it's your
Mack, an' Hi'm a-thinkin' on the Widdie's
son, an' Hi'm a-figurin' as neither on 'em'll
quit their craft — tain't like 'em ter do it,
an' you knows it, Mister Brice — then wot '11
we do?"
"Don't borrow trouble, Captain Jimmy,"
I cried, as I clapped my hand on his bent
old back.
CHAPTER XIX
MAKING GOOD
Night fell — the last night before the
great crisis. In twelve hours we should
know if our mission was a failure or suc-
cess. The grand coup planned by those
desperate villains who were now speeding
along but a few miles astern of us, would
either have been brought to a successful
termination or — busted ! The day after, or
at the slowest the day after that, the world
would learn with surprised horror of the
dastardly plot that had been brewed in
they* very midst. A little hundred and
fifty-ton dispatch boat and a few loyal men
was all that stood between these devils and
their victims.
Not a light shone from the "Scout. " Now
and again a few sparks would leap from
her funnel, as the toiling stokers below fed
her hungry furnaces, but always their
escape brought forth a growl from Cap-
tain Jimmy, as he spoke down the tube a
sharp reproof.
"Givin' us 'way! Givin' us 'way!" he
would mutter. "Hit's slack stokin' as does
it, that's hall."
If Captain Harvey Cassel got any sleep
during those forty-eight nerve-racking
hours, I didn't know it. Whenever I went
below he was always in that sizzling fur-
nace room, either shoveling himself or urg-
ing the other shift on with mild upbraid-
ings or exhortations. Always he was grimy
THE GREAT COUP
343
and black and fearfully hot, but always he
had for me a cheery word, and a savagely-
expressed conviction that we* should "do
the beggars yet."
At eight bells in the first watch I paid a
hasty visit to Ward. He was doing splen-
didly, and was loath to let me come away
again until I had explained the situation
minutely to him.
"Have your night signals as well as day
ones ready > Milton," he urged. "We may
run into them at any time now, you know."
"You don't expect them yet?" I ques-
tioned.
"No, not yet," he said, shaking his head,
"but it's well to be prepared; one can never
tell. I think that you will find them cruis-
ing off the Roost Island at about ten to-
morrow morning, and you may have some
trouble in making them understand at
first; they will be very likely to order you
to stand off, and if you have trouble in that
way I want you to send this signal to them:
Here, give me a scrap of paper and pencil."
He wrote carefully a cipher message and
handed it to me.
"Flag that to them, and I think it will
work," he whispered, "but perhaps you had
better show it to Captain Jimmy first ; he's
master of this craft and will have something
to say about any message that leaves her,
understand?"
I nodded. My lady entered the cuddy
at that moment, vivacious as usual.
"Isn't he doing splendidly?" she ques-
tioned. "He is an ideal patient, except that
he insists he can get up tomorrow, and you
know he cannot," she appealed to me.
"No," I agreed, "he cannot; he must get
into the game from where he lies here."
"Curse it!" growled Ward.
"No bad language, monsieur," ordered
my lady, in mock sternness. "Any excite-
ment sets you back. Now, let me raise
you; I wish you to take some of this," and
she set on the stand a bowl of appetizing
soup. I watched her as she skillfully
propped Ward up in bed; and fed him like
a child. She was such a creature of con-
trasts— one moment a gay schoolgirl, and
then next a tender woman —
"Sweet woman in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy and hard to please;
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou."
I had never seen her look prettier than that
night — no, not even in that wonderful
evening gown of hers. Martha had man-
aged to find an old black dress somewhere,
and my lady had gleefully donned it.
"It is like the ones we were dressed in at
St. Albans!" she cried, as she rolled up her
sleeves, preparatory to waiting on Ward.
My chum simply tolerated her ministra-
tions. Ward has no eye for the beautiful;
his whole mind was on this great game we
were playing, and he had no eye for "women
or other playthings," as he expressed it,
although the Lord only knows what he
would have done without this "plaything";
but Ward was always glum and in dead
earnest; I believe he is a woman-hater, or
something of that kind.
I hovered awhile around the little cabin
watching her; her movements held a fasci-
nation for me, and long after I reached the
bridge I caught myself sketching a mental
picture of her in that sick room.
At midnight I turned in for four hours'
sleep, and at eight bells in the after watch I
came on again, relieving old Captain Jim-
my. As morning dawned we were abeam of
Kunna Head, but it was not in sight.
Eighty miles and Roost Island would be
in sight. We had evidently outdistanced
the "Revenge," and we only passed two
other craft — small fishing smacks, who cour-
teously dipped their colors in true Nor-
wegian politeness.
Captain Harvey, who had managed to
get away from the furnace room for a few
minutes, the skipper of the "Scout" and I
held a brief council standing there on the
bridge, and roughly sketched in our line of
action. I was to get a cutter's crew to-
gether, with the long boat slung out all
ready, and if, as we hoped, we should find
our quest at Roost Island, I was to first
signal them and then out cutter and away.
Captain Jimmy and his mate were to re-
main'aboard the "Scout" awaiting the result
of my visit.
I confess my heart was beating faster as
I thought of the approaching meeting.
There would be so much to do, and so
short a time to get through with it. I set
about whipping on my signal flags, for it
was now broad daylight.
Suddenly my heart leaped to my mouth
as I heard the lookout sing out:
344
THE GREAT COUP
"A steamer away on the starboard bow,
sir — two on 'em, sir — no, four now!"
"Aye, aye," roared Captain Harvey,
"What 're they doing?"
"Standing 'way from us, sir, I think,
under easy steam."
"Get up aloft and see what you can make
on 'em," ordered the skipper, briskly, and
I sprang into the shrouds.
In a few moments I was in the crosstrees,
and taking the glass from the lookout,
brought it to bear on the four vessels.
"It's them!" I yelled down— "they're
just under weigh — that's all."
"Come ahead down, then!" cried Cap-
tain Jimmy, and I scrambled down on deck.
We stood along at a twenty-knot clip,
and ranged up a mile away on their port
side. They presented a handsome sight.
I picked out the "Sunflower" instantly, her
graceful lines, clipper masts and single stack
marking her easily. She was the nearest
to me and from her main whipped the
Stars and Stripes. On her foremost flew
the President's ensign.
CHAPTER XX
OUR GOAL
The two British skippers were very grim
and very business-like. I stood on the
bridge pointing out to them the four ships.
"That's the 'Victoria and Albert' next
her — the one with clipper bows and two
stacks."
"Yep," snapped Captain Jimmy, "I
spots her Royal ensign. Wot's the next
un?"
"The 'Hohenzollern'; see the German
flag?"
"The Russian's leadin' boat, then?"
"That's her— The Standart'— look, the
British boat's signalling."
Clearly I caught the two letters, "V. C."
(What ship is that?)
"I thought so — wants ter know who we
be — right an' proper — right an' proper; tell
'em, Mister Brice," croaked Captain Jim-
my.
Instantly I gave word, and my two signal
boys ran up the bunting:
"The 'Scout', Great Yarmouth, dispatch
boat; important news; let us board you at
once."
"Stand off," came back the significant
reply.
"Here, I'll wig-wag them; this thing's too
slow!" I cried, as I seized a pair of small
flags.
' ' Dash-dot-dot-dot-dash ' '—like lightning
I worked those flags, as I sent Ward's
cipher across the water.
A moment later and two white-clad fig-
ures climbed up smartly on the flying bridge
of the British yacht. They were followed
by like figures on the other boats, and for
fifteen minutes I had my hands full — then
I got the message:
"A cutter, eight men and an officer will
be received at the gangway of the 'Sun-
flower'."
"Your man ain't afraid on us if the others
is," chuckled Captain Harvey.
I dropped my flags. "Out cutter and
away!" I shouted.
My crew sprang to their work like man
o' war's men, and in a twinkling we were
pulling for the distant ships.
"Give way, lads!" I shouted, as they bent
to their long sweeps, and sent the boat
shooting through the green swell.
We did the distance in under ten minutes,
and my bowman caught his hook in under
the grating of the "Sunflower." A smart-
looking young ensign was awaiting me at
the top of the ladder. I found myself wish-
ing most heartily that I was in a more pre-
sentable rig, but this was no time for false
pride.
"I am Milton Brice, late of the United
States Navy," I explained as I reached the
foredeck.
"Ensign Kirk, at your service, sir," re-
turned the young man; "What can I do
for you?"
"Let me see the old man just as quickly
as possible," I said, dropping back into the
slang of the service quite naturally.
A half smile played about his youthful
features for a moment, then he extended his
hand: "Follow me, Mr. Brice," he said.
Thirty seconds later and I stood before
a smart -looking, clean-shaven man. "Thank
God!" I muttered, as my eyes fell on him.
I was standing face to face with old Billy
Muldoun, who when I knew him on the
cruiser "Hartford," was a Lieutenant-Com-
mander, but whose sleeve stripes now pro-
claimed to be a captain.
THE GREAT COUP
345
"Why, Brice!" he cried, throwing his dig-
nity to the wind, and striding forward, he
gripped my extended hand. "What in
thunder brings you here?" he added, then
glanced a little aft, to where a tall, digni-
fied-looking gentleman was standing, ob-
serving the meeting with considerable
interest. Captain Muldoun wheeled about
and respectfully saluting this gentlemen,
said:
"Mr. President, I can vouch for this
gentleman. His name is Brice; he was
formerly in the service."
For another moment the President stud-
ied me, then he drawled slowly:
"Mr. Brice, that is a very extraordinary
story you have been telling us with those
little flags of yours; you have held our
unflagging interest for the last fifteen
minutes."
"Mr. President," I said respectfully,
"there is not a moment to lose, believe me.
I have got here at considerable personal
risk to warn you."
"Tell me that yarn again, Mr. Brice,"
drawled the Chief Executive, "and Cap-
tain Muldoun, as he relates it, be so kind
as to send it word for word to our friends
on the other ships; you have interested
them, too, Mr. Brice."
I remember now; I always shall remem-
ber the exact words I used standing trfere
on the quarterdeck of the " Sunflower," as I
told the President of the United States of
the danger in which he and his companions
stood:
"Mr. President," I said, "By an accident
my friend Ward Willet and myself have
stumbled across a diabolical plot to kidnap
you; to kidnap His Majesty, the King of
England, the Emperor of Germany and the
Czar of Russia as you meet here unpro-
tected. We escaped, and thanks to that
speedy craft yonder, have just reached you
in time to block them if you at once heed
our warning and run for it. They may be
fifteen; they are certainly not more than
twenty miles astern."
The little flags were snapping around me
as I spoke, and I knew that my words
were being repeated on three other vessels.
"You stated in your previous message
that they belonged to the 'Reds'?" ques-
tioned the President.
"Yes, sir; they are Anarchists."
"Hum," mused the Chief Executive, "I
was warned when I left for this trip to
European waters that something would
happen if I persisted in breaking all pre-
cedents, and now it seems that it is about
to occur, eh, Muldoun?"
"Mr. President," I interposed before the
captain could reply, "I wish to urge haste.
Their craft is fast; it is all our little boat
can do to keep away from them. In this
ship you will be overhauled and captured
in an hour, and the same applies to the
other three." I waved my hand toward
the rolling ships ahead. "Come oversides
at once, sir, and let us get away with you
and the others," I urged.
I can see his -strongly -marked face now,
as he pulled at his chin.
"Well, scarcely," he drawled.
He stood there pulling at his chin for a
full minute, while I was consumed with
impatience, then in a moment he was all
action.
"Captain Muldoun," he ordered crisply,
"I will go over in the steam launch to the
'Victoria' at once — make my visit an hour
earlier, that's all," he finished, with a
chuckle.
The words were scarcely out of his mouth
when a junior officer stepped up and salut-
ing, said smartly:
"Steam launch ready, sir."
"Follow me, Mr. Brice," said the Presi-
dent, and without another word we went
down the gangway.
CHAPTER XXI.
A ROYAL GROUP
I could see the group awaiting us on the
"Albert," as our launch shot swiftly toward
her. The President sat silent in the stern
sheets, apparently deep in thought, nor did
I venture to disturb him, although fairly
boiling over with impatience to be off. I
cast a hasty look back at the "Scout." She
was just under weigh, crawling slowly up
on us. Ahead, the " Victoria and Albert"
awaited us.
Suddenly the President broke the silence.
"We have already exchanged visits," he
observed, "and today we were to meet
just informally to discuss the matter that
has brought us together. Now this other
thing threatens to upset it all. It's decid-
edly annoying, and I wish to the Lord that
346
THE GREAT COUP
we had a few guns on our boat. "Do you
know," he demanded, looking sharply at
me, "that the 'Hohenzollern' mounts six
four-inch guns, and the 'Standart' eight?"
"Yes, Mr. President, I do," I replied/'but
of what use are four-inch guns, even if you
had a hundred of them, against two twelve-
inch? All they have to do is to stand off
well out of your range and batter you to
pieces; they have the speed of you as well
as the range, you know, sir."
"True, true," he muttered, and lapsed
again into silence.
We were alongside the British yacht by
this time. A short, trim, smart-looking
man was standing at the top of the ladder,
as we shot under. It did not require a
second glance for me to know I was looking
at the King of Great Britain and Emperor
of India. Around him was grouped a little
knot of officials, with the tall form of the
yacht's commander, Sir Hemming Flowers,
looming in the background.
"You are an early bird, Mr. President,"
the King called out, in bluff, hearty tones.
"It would appear, your Majesty, from
what this gentleman informs us, that the
other fellow is the early bird, and we are
to be the worm — follow me up, Mr. Brice."
Together we ascended the ladder, and I
saw the King slip his arm into the Presi--
dent's and walk him aft. I discovered my-
self to be the object of considerable curi-
osity from the group of officers gathered at
the gangway. I suppose my appearance,
let alone my mission, was enough to excite
comment from anyone anywhere. I had
not shaved since I came aboard the "Scout,"
and I had slept a great part of the time in
my clothes; in fact, I rather expect I looked
like a tramp.
"Have a cigarette?" inquired a young
lieutenant, thrusting his case into my
hands.
I took it greedily. "Thanks," I said,
"one will go well, I assure you; I haven't
smoked for sixty hours."
"Oh, Mr. Brice!" called the President
from the other side, "will you be so good
as to come over here."
I pushed the cigarette case back into the
officer's hand, and stepped across deck.
Evidently it is not etiquette for one to be
introduced to a king, for the President
simply said:
"Kindly relate as quickly as possible the
story you told me, Mr. Brice."
I did .it, and I hope quickly enough to
please even a king. When I had finished,
the President said: "It is really a very
extraordinary thing, your Majesty, when
one comes to think about it, that neither
the 'Sunflower' nor the 'Victoria and
Albert' mount any guns of any power."
While he was speaking I noticed a sud-
den bustle going on at the gangway, and in
another moment, to my surprise, the mili-
tary form of the Emperor of Germany made
its way toward us, followed by the smaller,
almost frightened-looking Czar. I stepped
to the rear and from there watched the
greeting that took place. The conversation
was in English, I suppose for the benefit of
our worthy President, who spoke no other
language than his own, so I was able to
follow all that occurred. It was, indeed, a
memorable gathering — an Emperor, a Czar,
a King and a President. Our Chief Execu-
tive had, as I was well aware, broken all
precedent by thus making the voyage to
Northern European waters to meet there
three monarchs and discuss with them the
great plans of world-wide disarmament.
Without escort of warships, almost unoffi-
cially, had the great conference been
brought about, and this was the oppor-
tunfty seized upon by these enemies of
society to kidnap — nay, to murder, for all
I knew — the heads of four great nations.
In equipping the destroying vessel that
even now was fast closing down on us, they
had realized that with a pair of long-range
guns and superior speed they would have the
luxuriant yachts of their enemy completely
at their mercy; they could stand off at six
or eight thousand yards and batter them
to pieces from a range at which the little
four- inch guns of the Russian and German
boats would 'be impotent.
The voice of the German Emperor raised
in loud, almost threatening tones, suddenly
broke in on my thoughts. He was speaking
in fluent, forceful English, with almost no
trace of foreign accent. His remarks ap-
peared to be directed to the British King
and our President. The smaller, pale-faced
Russian monarch was almost shivering in
the rear of his strong, aggressive-looking
brother ruler.
"Why should we run?" he demanded,
THE GREAT COUP
347
fiercely. "Did I arm the 'Hohenzollern' for
her to run before these scoundrels? Go,
you, cousin George, and you, Mr. Presi-
dent— your boats are unharmed, but His
Majesty here," and he turned toward the
cowering Czar, "has a cruiser more power-
ful than mine. Together we will show this
scum a fight — Gott in Himmel!" he burst
out, "I'll not show the white feather!"
"The suggestion was, your Majesty, that
we embark on this small steamer lying over
there, and leave our captains to take care
of these yachts, "observed the President, in
curt, business-like tones.
"Whose suggestion, Mr. President?"
quickly snapped the German.
"This gentleman who — " he turned to
where I was standing — "has come to warn
us. Kindly step forward, Mr. Brice."
I advanced cap in hand. The emperor
gave me a quick glance, but did not deign
otherwise to notice my presence. There
was an awkward pause, which King George
broke by beckoning to his captain, Sir
Hemming Flowers. "Sir Hemming has a
plan to propose which I believe will com-
mend itself to you, Cousin William," he
observed. "It even comes under the head
of stratagem," he added. The young
monarch's face lighted up with a smile as
he uttered the word, and then moved aside
to make room for the big form of his cap-
tain.
There was a hasty conference, which had
scarcely commenced when a seaman
stepped up, and saluting, reported:
"A large steamer is reported hull down,
sir, to the sou'-west."
I glanced hastily across the waters. The
" Scout' ' was signalling frantically, and com-
ing in under a head of steam at fifteen knots.
"Is that she?" demanded the President
of me.
"I cannot see her, sir, but it most as-
suredly is," I responded.
The British captain scarcely heeded the
seaman's report, as he went on explaining,
without gesture or any expression of excite-
ment, his hastily arranged plan. I caught
the words, "Maelstrom — Leading ship —
Come about — and running for it."
The frightened-looking Russian monarch
made some exclamation, and Sir Hemming
retorted quickly: "Some risk? Yes, cer-
tainly, your Majesty."
King George made an ill-concealed ges-
ture of annoyance, and the Emperor Wil-
liam spoke some words in a low, hasty tone.
Next moment the plan had apparently been
agreed upon, for there was a rapid scatter-
ing of the royal personages, while our Presi-
dent, smiling and nodding to me, invited
me to accompany him, and we went over-
sides into the waiting launch.
She shot through the water, and in a few
minutes I again found myself on the deck
of the "Sunflower." Quickly the President
explained to me the plan agreed upon, and
I hastily made out a message for the anxious
"Scout," now ranged up on our port quarter
ten cables away.
"Consider yourself under orders of the
'Victoria and Albert,'" was the signal.
"Kindly follow me, Mr. Brice," invited
the President, quietly, and I shadowed him
up onto the bridge of the "Sunflower."
The British yacht was making a wide
sweeping movement, passing the German
and Russian ships, who followed in her
wake in the order named. Then we swung
into line, the little "Scout" bringing up
the rear ten cables away.
The "Revenge" was now plainly in sight,
fairly boiling through the water. It was
too great a distance to distinguish any sig-
nals, but while we stood there watching the
approaching drama, an orderly gave
Captain Muldoun a slip of paper. He
scanned it hastily, then read aloud:
"Unless you hove to immediately we
shall shell you."
"The wireless brings this, Mr v President,"
he observed, passing the message on to the
Chief Executive.
"The 'Victoria' is spokesman; take no
notice," came the careless response.
Whatever the reply of the "spokesman"
was, it apparently was unsatisfactory to the
"Revenge," for a few moments later a shell
burst four hundred yards astern of the little
"Scout," followed almost instantly by
another a little nearer, and then two heavy
booms sounded on our ears.
The crisis had arrived!
CHAPTER XXII •
THE MAELSTROM
We were running, despite the German
Emperor's protest; there was no doubt of
£48
THE GREAT COUP
that. Strung out ten cables apart the four
yachts , with the plucky little ' ' Scout ' ' astern ,
were flying from the fast approaching " Re-
venge. ' ' The black smoke pouring from the
stacks gave evidence that the furnaces were
being stoked for all they were worth. Again
two huge waterspouts broke on the surface
of the sea — this time to starboard of the
"Scout," and not three hundred yards away.
I judged the distance of the firing ship to
be at this time fully five miles, so the prac-
tice was really not so bad.
All ships, with the exception of , the
"Scout," which was keeping her place astern,
were now doing their best, and travelling
easily at nineteen or twenty knots. It
seemed fitting to me that the Anglo-Saxon
boats should be in the position of most
danger — in the rear of a desperate retreat;
what could be a better position for them? I
positively gloried in the gallant little
"Scout," as she doggedly stuck to her
course. I could make out quite plainly
through the glasses the figure of old
Captain Jimmy on her bridge, and I could
imagine very readily the expression on his
wrinkled old face, as he growled inside
to the steersman: "Keep so, keep her so,"
and mentally I could draw a picture of the
burly form of Captain Harvey Cassel, as,
stripped for action, he worked like a giant in
the sweating furnace room of the "Scout,"
shovelling on the coal. Then my thoughts
flew to Ward in the little cabin lying
there helpless, yet consumed with a burn-
ing impatience to be on deck; and by his
side would be my lady — my lady of the
violet eyes — my Hortense. My Hortense!
What was I thinking of? I was awakened
from my thoughts by the President lightly
tapping me on the shoulders.
"Getting a trifle warm, Mr. Brice," he
suggested, and I became aware of a screech-
ing shell tearing over our heads and throwing
up a fountain of spray three cables astern
of the "Victoria and Albert." We were
well under range of those powerful twelve-
inch guns, while from that distance, even if
the German and Russian yachts had dared
to swing and bring their broadside to bear,
their littte popgun battery of four-inch
pieces could not have begun to reach the
oncoming vessel. I turned to answer the
remark of the President.
"It is only a matter of time, sir, before
they will reach us with one of those big
shells."
"it appears to me that they are not com-
ing quite so fast as they were," continued
the President, still gazing into the distance
through his glasses, and apparently taking
no notice of my warning.
"No, sir," I said, "you will find they will
keep at about this distance and take no
chance of our small guns finding them,
while they will surely land soon with a
great shell and probably put one of us out
of action. Is it our intention to stand by
one another when this disaster takes place,
or is it a case of 'Sauve qui peut'?"
"The plan is this," drawled the Presi-
dent, lowering his glasses and smiling quiz-
zically at me. "But, look — here we go!"
His manner had suddenly become very
alert, and gripping the rail, he leaned for-
ward, watching intently the maneuver of
the "Victoria and Albert" ahead of us.
The yacht had suddenly sheered off to
starboard, disclosing the "Hohenzollern"
and "Standart" making the same movement
to port; our own boat and the "Scout"
astern of us were following the British ship.
Less than eight hundred yards dead ahead
loomed a rocky island, whose precipitous
sides towered up out of the dark waters
almost into the lowering sky.
"Vaeroe Island!" ejaculated the Presi-
dent.
As we swung yet farther apart two shells
burst in rapid succession almost in the very
position we had just quit Had we been
there they would surely have raked us aft
to fore.
"None too soon," muttered the Presi-
dent, "now watch!" He had dropped his
leisurely manner, and was now all action.
"How is it, Muldoun?" he cried, appealing
to the "Sunflower's" commander, who stood
just outside the wheel-house, giving his
orders to the steersman inside.
"Going all right, Mr. President," came
the cool reply.
I could but notice that no one invited
our Magistrate to take shelter from his
exposed position; I suppose everyone knew
the man too well.
The sombre, giant rocks cut off our view
of the Russian and German yachts, as we
divided, and now we three — the British
Royal boat, ourselves and the "Scout"
THE GREAT COUP
!49
ploughed through the "beating waves with
the island thirty cables away to port. I
heard the crash of more bursting shells, as
they struck the high cliffs above us, and
then we lost view of the pursuer, as a sharp
cape hid us from view.
"Wonder which she'll follow?" queried
the President, a grim smile lighting up his
hard features for a moment.
A dull roar sounded on my ears. I
glanced toward the cliffs, thinking it was
the surf beating on them; then, realizing
that no surf could make that uncanny
sound, looked questioningly at our Presi-
dent. He nodded confidently, as he mut-
tered:
"The Maelstrom!"
In an instant the truth flashed across my
mind. We were headed for the Maelstrom,
that dread and scourge of the Norwegian
coast! The dull roar had increased to a
perfect fury of thunderous noise, and now,
as we shot past the last extremity of Vaeroe
Island, the seething, boiling waters burst
into view — a hellish cauldron set in the
midst of that dull , gray sea. The Maelstrom,
that great whirlpool where mighty ships are
caught like feathers and carried down in
the vortex to their awful doom in the
bowels of the earth, was now raging before
us.
Instinctively I discovered myself grip-
ping hard to the slender rail of the bridge,
as if anything on the earth, or the seas, the
heavens or the world below could save one
from the fury of that awful giant. Then
my naval training came to my rescue, and
I was as calm and cool as anyone on that
ship.
The "Standart" and "Hohenzollern" had
darted out from the further side of the
island, and now almost abeam of us, the
five ships steamed down at top speed to
their apparent doom.
If the owner of the "Standart" was a
coward, his captain was not. Straight as
the shot from a gun he stood oh almost
parallel with the British yacht, headed for
that boiling whirlpool, and behind him tore
the German ship, the "Sunflower" and
"Scout" following the "Victoria and
Albert" with the same grim determination.
Suddenly a barred blue and white flag
whipped from the after pole of the British
yacht, and instantly the little "Scout"
sheered off and stood away to starboard,
crowding on her top speed as she did. Her
place appeared to my excited brain to be
almost instantly occupied by the pursuing
ship — the "Revenge," her great guns belch-
ing fire, and her shells bursting all around us.
She had evidently raced at her greatest speed
as she lost sight of us around the island,
and was now not more than a mile astern.
It was a foolish move for her. Thinking it
over quietly afterwards, I could only come
to the conclusion that they lost their heads
during that exciting chase, and fearing we
would escape them, closed in on us, heed-
less of results. They were throwing away
the advantage of their long-range guns.
There was no time to draw conclusions
then. Before my eyes was taking place an
exciting maneuver — the famous "gridiron"
evolution — but, Great God, under what
conditions? On the outer edge of that
fearful whirlpool, with the swirling, boiling
waters roaring for their prey, I saw the
"Standart," followed by the "Hohen-
zollern," turn in half a circle. Bunting was
leaping from the poles of the "Victoria
and Albert," and at the same moment
we commenced our in-curve. Here was
our position, but no words can describe
the nerve-racking suspense of those few
awful minutes.
The "Revenge" was evidently taken by
surprise at our sudden movement. First she
yawed a minute, letting go with the big
twelve-inch as she did, and I saw the splin-
ters fly amidshtp of the "Victoria and
Albert." The yacht staggered like a man
struck, then came on again continuing her
movement. Next moment the "Revenge"
thought better of her movement, and came
on again at full speed. The- four yachts
crossed each Cher's bows at a dangerously
close angle, and bore down .m the
"Revenge" under every ounce of steam
— the Russian and German on her star-
board, the British and American to port.
The "Standart" and "Hohenzollern"
gave her their broadsides as they came —
they could do so without hitting us at that
minute, and three at least of their shells
found their mark, for I saw their crash and
noted the confusion they made. The "Re-
venge" swung her pair of guns over to port
and gave us their contents, still making the
350
THE GREAT COUP
"Victoria and Albert" her mark. In the
excitement of the moment their aim was
hurried, and neither shells took effect, for
all the range was so close. The Russian
and German stopped their firing, and with
every ounce of steam bore down on the
enemy. I felt our own yacht leap forward
under her forced draught, as she rushed to
the attack.
The maneuver had developed! We four
were to ram our enemy — two to starboard
and two to port. Thus beset on each side,
the " Revenge" shot forward to escape the
impact, going at tremendous speed. So
fast did she travel that we missed her
completely, all four yachts converging
astern of her. For a moment it looked like
a disastrous collision, but smart seaman-
ship and prompt handling saved us. We
crossed right over, and so close that the
port battery of the "Standart" carried away
our port boats and some tackle. The ' 'Vic-
toria and Albert" and the "Hohen-
zollern" just cleared one another.
Aboard the "Revenge" was confusion.
They put their helm down and endeav-
ored to come up on us, but she refused to
answer.. Then I saw their three propellers
reversing at great speed, in an endeavor
to back.
"She's caught! By the God she is!"
cried the President, for the first time show-
ing any excitement.
"It's got her!" I yelled. "The Maelstrom
hasher— look!"
Captain Muldoun, leaning over the rail,
watched with calm mien the tragedy that
was taking place befose our eyes. For
another minute he stood gazing at the
struggling, quivering ship, then he turned
away with a groan:
"We've done," he muttered, "but, by
God, it's awful!"
From the doomed vessel arose a fearful
cry — the cry of men in fear of death. The
"Standart" was again opening fire on her,
but a flutter of flags from the British ship
stopped it.
"That's murder," growled Captain Mul-
doun, "there's no need for that."
Frantically, madly, the lost ship strove
to escape her fate. The boiling sea around
her was surely, swiftly sucking her toward
the vortex. In vain she endeavored to
head up ; in vain she reversed. She was like
a child in the arms of that awful sea.
Fascinated, horrified, I watched her ap-
proaching end, as we stood well clear of the
awful trap, steaming slowing back and
forth. It was not long in coming. Now
she was caught in the inner lines. Dizzily
round and round she sped with sickening
speed. Nearer, yet nearer, always nearer
to that treacherous, deadly calm in the
centre, until at last, with an oily, quick
motion, her bow rose high in the air, and
stern foremost she was swallowed up in the
great whirlpool.
The "Revenge" was gone!
The Great Coup had failed!
CHAPTER XXIII
CONCLUSION
No happier fellow than I existed in all
this world on that June morning — just nine
months after the failure of the Great Coup
— when I led to the altar at St. Mary's my
bride, Hortense DeArcey, and no fairer
bride ever passed up the historic old aisle.
Ward was there, clean-cut, unemotional,
short of speech as ever. His presence was
really necessary considering he was acting
as my best man, but I think he enjoyed the
ordeal but little. He said he gave in and
came simply because I had never done the
thing before, and he trusted I should never
do it again.
Hortense said she would vouch for me
that I never would.
Quite a few notables attended that wed-
ding, and some exceedingly notable per-
sonages sent representatives, while at my
persistent insistence, two less notable, but
perhaps more interesting personages came
up from Great Yarmouth — the two deep-
sea fishermen, Captain Harvey Cassel and
Captain Jimmy.
They blew into town the night before
the wedding like a breath of the gale from
their own East Coast, and "tied up" at a
little inn just off Fleet Street, where they
became my guests.
"Now, by the Lord Harry, sir, ye're
startin' hon a voyage w'ere the charts
bain't much, and w'ere ye must take yer
own soundin's, but I reckons as ye've
shipped a mighty good 'and for'ard,"
observed Captain Harvey.
WITHOUT YOU
351
"Maybe," croaked old Captain Jimmy,
"as Mister Brice'll be the for'ard 'and, an'
'tis 'im has his signin' articles — ha, ha,
ha!" and the old salt laughed heartily at
his own joke.
Hortense and I spent a most delightful
seven weeks at her old home in Southern
France, and then left for an extended trip
in "God's Country." All's well that ends
well, but I wish before I bring to a conclu-
sion this narrative, to attach to it the fol-
lowing clipping from the London Queen
of the day following our marriage:
At high noon yesterday a fashionable wed-
ding took place at the Church of St. Mary's,
the contracting parties being Mr. Milton
Brice of Chicago, U.S.A., and Mademoiselle
Hortense Marie DeArcey, niece of the late
Count Leopold DeArcey, of Montpillier,
Southern France.
The bride, who looked most charming in a
gown of white satin and Irish point lace, came
into church on the arm of Count Felix Zel-
mot, an old friend of the family, Mademoi-
selle DeArcey being the last of her line.
The groom's best man was his friend, Mr.
Hugh Ward-Willet, and a large congregation
witnessed the ceremony, which was fully
choral. The happy event was made more than
usually interesting by the presence of the
representatives of no less than three Crowned
Heads and a President of the Great Republic.
In connection with the above extraordinary
gathering it will perhaps be well to remind
our readers that the groom and his best man
are the two gentlemen who figured so promi-
nently in the great attempted Royal kidnap-
ping case some nine months ago, and it is
understood that Mademoiselle DeArcey is the
young lady mentioned at the time as being
rescued from the would-be kidnappers by the
gentleman who has now so happily become
her husband. Rumor, of course, has added
her share to the story, and it has probably not
lost in the telling, but it is safe to state that
if the inside facts of that sensational episode
were made public they would appear even
more startling than at present. A representa-
tive of the Queen accidentally stumbled across
two East Coast deep-sea skippers, who un-
folded a most wonderful tale of the stirring
events of that exciting period, but they were
unfortunately located and hurried away by
their friends before we had time to listen to
the conclusion.
Mr. and Mrs. Milton Brice left immediately
after the ceremony for the South of France,
where the honeymoon will be spent, after
which the happy couple will engage in an
extended tour of the United States, the
groom's home.
Among the gifts, which were unusually
numerous and costly, was one from His
Majesty which attracted great attention. It
was a study in oils of the Maelstrom, especially
painted by command of the King by Sir
Arnold White, and pronounced by critics to
be the celebrated master's best work.
The significance of the subject chosen will
not be lost upon our readers, who will recall
that the last dramatic scene in the attempt
to capture the Royal personages was laid in
the waters of the great whirlpool.
Equally significant was the gift from the
President of the United States, which con-
sisted of a solid gold cigarette case, with the
initials set in diamonds, and the motto:
"Vincit amor patriae."
The German Emperor and His Majesty the
Czar also sent presents by their representa-
tives, but they were not on view.
The Queen takes this opportunity of join-
ing with the rest of mankind and offering to
Mr. and Mrs. Milton Brice their hearty con-
gratulations and their best wishes for the
future.
WITHOUT YOU
WITHOUT you, love, the day would hold no light;
The kindly stars would vanish from the night;
The flowers would forget to wake at morn;
The rose die sleeping, leaving but the thorn, —
Without you.
Without you, love, no promise would be bright;
Hope's golden sun would darken at its height;
The world of all its glory would be shorn,
And I should be a wanderer, forlorn, —
Without you.
— Henry Dumont, in "A Golden Fancy."
Jfancp's:
, let me lie on the albatross* wing
As it rests in its boundless flight
O'er the bosom of the waving ocean;
There fain would I sleep tonight.
The harmony of the wind and the wave
Would bring peace to my troubled soul,
The wondrous imagery of my dreams
Leading still higher to the goal.
— William Janvrin West.
TK e L
LB RARY
Stuart B * Stouo
I HAVE not an atlas handy, and
ever in my mind the map of
the world appeared a jumbled,
jargon-crammed splotch of fever-
ish colors; but I should judge Effingham
center to be some five or six thousand
miles from the choppy little kingdom of
Balkanita. The somnolent Podunkian
Center is peopled with placid philosophers
and amiable idlers and dream-folk; its
architecture is of brick and pine in the
proportion of fifteen to one, all duly em-
blazoned with the blue-and-scarlet, silver-
shaded sign-handiwork of the tramp
painter; the only ruffling event in its
history was the holding of the State
Grange convention in 1883. Therefore it
was to Effingham Center that I repaired
to weave the web of romance about
Prince George Gabriel Milan Alexander
Damian Karageorgevitch of Balkanita and
the rich Miss Rockingham. Stephen
Lloyd Atherton has never made preten-
sions to realism, an it please the court.
After arranging with the good Mrs.
Vincent that for the sum of seven dollars
a week, in advance, I was to be served
with two eggs done on one side for break-
fast and was not to be called thereto before
half-past eight, I went to the Carnegie
library of Effingham. In the catalog I
found abundant promise of local color for
my opening chapter — the frowning, feudal
castles, the skirted shepherds of the hills,
the gay court-in-miniature, the vineyards
and the threatening shadow of the Bear.
Making out my bibliography, I approached
the librarian's counter. The librarian's
scant coiffure was of a yellow, muddy-
gray. Her eyes were penetrating, her nose
most aquiline. The librarian would have
inspired respect in the breast of a Visi-
goth. The Athertons belong to the Society
of Friends.
"I would like—" I began, "I would like
very much — " I broke off, conscious of a
voice, enchanting, wonder-chorded, pure
gold for sympathy.
"No, ma'am, the plot of 'A Tale of Two
Cities' is not laid in St. Paul and Minne-
apolis," said the voice. "And I couldn't
furnish you the complete works of Mrs.
South worth in one volume."
A young woman had emerged from
behind the rack that held the green-and-
gilt Waverley series. She was chestnut-
haired — rich with its tumbling masses —
pink-and-cream cheeked, hazel-eyed. But
to array her in Parisian conceptions and
necklace o' pearl and Helena Rockingham
stood forth.
"Well — what do you want, sir?" came
the jarring voice of the lady librarian. The
divinity, hearing, lavished her deep, expres-
sive eyes upon me. I blushed. I could
not remember my name, multiply six by
thirteen, recite the briefest of the beati-
tudes. A century rolled by. I faced the
grim librarian, a staring, gaping figure
of unrecalling asininity.
(353)
354
THE LIBRARY OF LIES
"Fudge!" sniffed the librarian, after
the world had turned the twenty-four
hundredth milestone.
"Darn!" said I, and broke for the folding
doors.
Behind me I heard the divinity snigger.
Let her snigger! I would draw on a vivid
imagination for the meeting of the lovers
in the Balkanitan hills. It is for dilemmas
like this that an author's imagination is
given. Let the chit snigger. See if I
cared. Elisha was laughed at — so was
Ben Franklin — and the fourth reader boy
who cried "Wolf!"
But,' after an hour's brooding beneath
the red-floss motto, "Knowledge is Power,"
in Mrs. Vincent's best spare-room, I
began to chide myself for my rout. That
I, the author of eleven published works
of fiction, including last season's notable
best-seller, "The Princess Amazona,"
should speckle crimson and turn tail under
the gaze of a lady-dragon and a hazel-
eyed child, was preposterous. I would
return and establish my dignity.
This time the divinity herself waited
upon me. She was wonderfully helpful,
suggestive, sympathetic. She even cited
an especially conscientious and micro-
scopic work by Villari, which I had over-
looked. Had I visited Balkanita? Was I
contemplating a tour?
"I am writing a book," I informed her,
with some degree of steadiness. "It is
a romance with Balkanitan setting."
"Oh!" cried the goddess, softly, sweetly,
wonderingly. She looked at me as if I
had displayed the Great Hope diamond
or turned a serpent into rod-of-gold.
"Oh, an author a real, live literary
man!" she repeated, clapping her hands.
I strutted to a nearby table and for an
hour I sat there turning the pages of
atlas, encyclopaedia, travel • sketch and
consular report. At the end of that time
I had accumulated this reference note :
"Balkanita is a small kingdom —hazel
eyes and chestnut -brown hair — lying be-
tween the 43d and 44th parallels — and
two most distracting dimples — and the
Black Sea."
For a week I worked at the table in the
little library accumulating notes from the
tourists, diplomats, soldiers and war
correspondents who had sojourned at the
court of Balkanita. It was, of course, a
shameful wasting of time — with Mrs.
Vincent charging steadily for the two eggs
done on one side, even though half the
time I did not rise at eight-thirty to eat
them. But they were good, lulling hours,
and I quieted conscience by the fact that,
in watching Venicia Gregory flit among the
serried ranks of Comedie Humaine and
Waverley, Romance and Realism, Sy-
barites, Platonics and Stoics, I was at
least absorbing color for my heroine, the
rich Miss Rockingham.
At the end of the week, in the midst of
a pleasing revery, I sensed the faint per-
fume of mignonette, and looking up found
Miss Gregory at my shoulder. She was
holding the five books of old Gibbon in
her arms akimbo.
"Is — is this your first book?" she asked,
a bit reverently.
The awe in her liquid eyes would have
agitated a stronger man. I tilted my chair
upon its hind legs. "It is my twelfth,"
I boasted.
"Twelfth!" she gasped. She even
dropped the first volume of the "Decline
and Fall," affording me the chance to
return it.
"Would you mind telling me your
name?" asked Venicia, after a moment.
"You see, I adore books — and bookmen.
And down here in Effingham Center we
never see a real, live genius."
"My name is Atherton," I told her.
"Atherton," repeated Venicia, as if
endeavoring to recall.
"Stephen Lloyd Atherton," I amplified.
"Stephen Lloyd Atherton," she re-
peated, unenlightened. In a moment she
added apologetically: "Of course, there
are so many authors — great and famous —
and I know of only a few."
I had heard her recite the thirty-odd
novels of Harrison Ainsworth to one
patron, the forgotten sensationalities of
Gustave Aimard to another, the weird
concoctions of Mrs. Radcliffe to a third.
A shadow of disappointment crossed her
pretty face, followed by a faint ray of
hope.
"What are the titles of your books?"
she asked eagerly.
"The Princess Am ," I began chestily,
then stopped. As I have intimated, if,
THE LIBRARY OF LIES
355
under normal conditions, I have one
virtue in the catalog, it is modesty. I
dislike greatly to be stared at, to be
pointed out as the author of this and that.
I have a mortal distaste for having my
books discussed in my presence. I had
come to Efnngham Center to be quiet
and to write the moving romance of Prince
George Gabriel. Perhaps if I had taken
more time for deliberation — perhaps if I
had taken none at all — perhaps if I had
been from under the demoralizing spell
of Venicia's eyes — perhaps — a plague
upon your "perhaps." I glanced up at
a row of prim, stiff tomes under the general
heading, "Gardens and Gardening." A
heavy, gray volume displayed the title,
"The Propagation and Culture of the
Barcelona Cabbage." A slanting ray of
sunlight from a western window brought
out the whitish lettering.
" 'Cabbages that bask in the Sunlight,' "
I answered, in happy inspiration.
"Ah," murmured Venicia, "what a
queer title!"
The eagle-nosed librarian was frowning
our way. " 'The Glooming Dragon/ " I
continued.
"How very odd!" commented Venicia,
relapsing into disappointment.
Someone in a distant corner laughed.
" 'They that Make Merry,' " I quoted,
and checked myself. Conscience — the still
small voice — cried out that I was too glib
at this title-making. Already I regretted
my extravagant effort. Venicia's hazel
eyes regarded me steadily, sorrowfully.
I am not a forceful man. I could not
start again with "The Princess Amazona."
I compromised — I sighed. Venicia echoed
the sigh.
"What is the plot of your new story?"
she asked.
"It is of a Balkanitan prince of the
blood," I said, springing at the opportunity
to be utterly truthful once more. "In
his native hills he encounters an American
girl — rich, beautiful, vivacious. Prince
George — impetuous, fiery, romantic — loves
the girl. He comes to America disguised
as a Greek tradesman, titleless, moneyless.
He contrives an acquaintance with the
heiress and wooes her, with no recommenda-
tion but his own good face and person-
ality."
I paused. Venicia was nodding enthu-
siastically. "How does it turn out?" she
demanded. "You wouldn't end it in the
dark and grewsome fashion affected by
some of the realists? You wouldn't hold
true lovers apart, would you?"
"I don't quite see the finish," I answered.
"She's bound in time to discover the de-
ception— if it be a deception. What
should a true American girl do?"
"Oh, love is greater than — " began
Venicia.
" — than — ' I prompted.
"Than all the deception in the world,"
said Venicia. "What are the names of
your other books?"
I wavered between truth and fiction.
Among other accomplishments, I am a
talented waverer. "You wouldn't recog-
nize them," I compromised again. "No-
body in this wide world would recall
them." I sighed for the second time.
Venicia sighed also. Venicia's sigh was
of sympathy — for the unremembered
eleven books — for the man-who-knew-not-
how — for the ink-stained toiler and dreamer
who toiled and dreamed without recog-
nition and without reward.
"Miss Gregory," called the "Glooming
Dragon," "are you going to stand gossip-
ing all day?"
Venicia departed, sighing for the third
time.
The following week I divided my time
between Mrs. Vincent's best spare-room
and the Effingham public library, glowing
with the thought of Venicia's golden sym-
pathy, chilling with the realization of
my unworthiness and making precious
little progress with George Gabriel Milan
of Balkanita. At the end of that period
I found myself still dabbling after Balkani-
tan local color. Then it was Venicia came
to my table, a gorgeous-backed duo-
decimo in her hand.
"I have taken the greatest liberty,"
she confided. "I think — I don't know —
you see, I thought maybe a study of this
book would aid you in — in technique,
style, plot construction, in attaining popu-
larity. He is my favorite author." Ve-
necia is most charming when enthusiastic.
"By all the Six Best-Sellers," I re-
sponded, "who is this prodigy?"
She handed over the volume. It was
356
THE LIBRARY OF LIES
"The Crimson Blade," by E. Kelmscot.
A silly book of swashbuckling.
"Tut, tut," I growled. "Whatever you
do, don't throw Kelmscot at my head."
"But," said Venicia, "he is popular."
"Advertising," said I.
"He is intensely interesting."
"Artful," said I.
"And a stylist."
"A word-juggler," said I.
Venicia colored exquisitely, whereupon
I knew that I had been rude. "I believed
— I so wanted you to succeed — I thought
you might be able to acquire inspiration
and ideas from Kelmscot."
"If it had been anyone else."
"I believe you're jealous," said Venicia
suddenly. Then she moralized. "No
struggling author can afford to be jealous."
"Miss Gregory — " I began.
"Oh," said Venicia, "I didn't mean to
be rude. It is only — only that I felt —
but what of Prince George? You won't
send him back to Balkanita without the
lady Helena?"
"The wretch has deceived her — " I
started; but Venicia had gone to find
something dear and lovely by Miss
Braeme for an old lady with an ear trumpet.
With the prince royal of Balkanita
en route for the home of the free, I could
not justify myself in dallying longer in
the Efnngham public library. There-
fore I spent long hours under the damson
plum tree in Mrs. Vincent's horse lot,
inducting the Prince of Balkanita into
the mysteries of the city of the four
million, regretting my lapse from veracity,
resolving to correct my position, retreat-
ing from my resolve through fear of
losing the golden sympathy. I had not
meant, in my questionable excess of
modesty, to give her the impression that
I was a plodder and a failure. Yet, so
awkwardly had I managed the affair, no
person with a grain of sense could think
otherwise. To be an unknown and un-
listed author of eleven never-mentioned
books with outlandish, titles! Possibly
she thought that I had even paid for their
publication. My blood dribbled at the
thought. I determined to go and set my-
self as nearly straight as I could do with-
out exposing my sorry deception.
"Miss Venicia," I told her in the little
parlor that evening, "I fear that you may
have — er — possibly been led to jump at
conclusions regarding me — that is — "
"Oh, dear no," interrupted Venicia,
misunderstanding, blushing gloriously. "I
never jump at conclusions."
"I mean about my books," I hastened
to say. "The fact is, one of my novels
has been translated into the Arabic."
"Oh," said Venicia, looking relieved,
"which one?"
There it was again. I stammered,
choked, stared helplessly into Venicia's
eyes. "The Angel," I blurted, so fer-
vently that Venicia blushed.
"But I thought," she objected, "that
a novel, to be translated into the Fiji,
Eskimo or any of those barbarous tongues,
had to go through about ninety-nine edi-
tions in this country first, and I never —
I never — " Venicia paused and looked
at me rather troubled.
I regretted my foolish boasting. I
took refuge in bridling. "Do you mean
to insinuate — "
"N-n-o-o-o," denied Venicia; and re-
verted to Etherington Kelmscot. I was
chagrined, exasperated, confounded.
"Hang Kelmscot!" I thundered.
Venicia bit her fresh, red lips. "It
would be a loss to real literature to hang
a man whose every novel has sold in its
tens of thousands without having to be
translated into the Arabic, the Hottentot
or the Patagonian."
So I had progressed with Venicia to the
point of quarreling.
Before I reached Mrs. Vincent's spare-
room, I regretted my silly effort to rein-
state myself in Venicia's good graces by
boasting. The next day I hung penitently
about the public library, leaving His
Royal Highness to struggle alone in the
great metropolis. But Venicia selected
books on orthography, astronomy, the
Copts, the measles, rhubarb, rodents and
the Renaissance for all kinds of people
and did not look my way. Finally I
penned her in the corner by the Elsie
books and told her that "The Angel" had
been translated into the Arabic merely
because any old thing could be palmed off
on the heathen, and that I was a sham and
a failure. I was glad that I had thus
humbled myself. Venicia beamed on me,
THE LIBRARY OF LIES
357
cited the lesson of Bruce and the Spider,
wormed from me the facts that I had also
written " Doors that Flap Behind Book-
men" and "A Literary Liar," declared her
belief that my titles were too fantastic,
pleaded the cause of the Prince of Bal-
kanita, and allowed me to press her hand
for one feverish moment as the Dragon-
Librarian sought the Areogapitica upon
a high, cobwebby shelf. Finally she
brought out E. Kelmscot and insisted
that I worship the fellow as the king of
present-day romanticists.
"But he isn't," I protested earnestly.
"Oh, well," pouted Venicia, "if you will
persist in being stubborn!"
After that, I played a weak-kneed,
spineless part, zigzagging from humility
to vaingloriousness, from abject repentance
to further mendacity and stultification and
back again. I declared "Cabbages that
Bask in the Sunlight" to be a nature-
fakey allegory laid in a Tuscan garden,
with a squash and a cauliflower for heroes.
I stated that "A Glooming Dragon" was
the old story of Saint George re-worked
in words of one syllable. As the only
means of preventing Venicia from borrow-
ing "The Angel," I was forced to explain
that Mrs. Vincent's pup, Bilk, had chewed
the volume. I read her extracts from the
sentimental scenes of my novels — the
proposals of the Duke of Sandringham, the
renunciation of Calvo the Monk, the
plighting of the troth of Lisbeth and
Ricardo — while she nestled beneath my
sunshade.
"Oh," Venicia would exclaim prettily,
"if you can do work like that, I don't
see why — Whereupon I would drop
the book and win a rebuke from Venicia.
I floundered, repented, boasted, hemmed,
hawed, allowed Mrs. Vincent to rob me
on the pretext of "extras," wished that I
might die, exulted in the mere joy of
living and — yes, and loved. Venicia
sighed, beamed, criticized, hummed witch-
ing songs, derided my extemporaneous
plots, ripped apart my extravagant titles,
saved Prince George from heart-crush,
snubbed me, enthused over my readings
and cuddled close under the silken sun-
shade.
There was one thing between us —
Etherington Kelmscot. Venicia called
him the literary man of the hour and the
worthy successor of Gautier and Dumas.
She insisted that I study, imitate, idolize
the man. But with all my wishy- washi-
ness, on this one point I could not wishy-
wash. I had, at least, to retain my self-
respect.
One day in early autumn, having at-
tained the middle of chapter nineteen, I
threw down my pen. The Prince of
Balkanita was upon his knees. The beau-
tiful, beautiful story, old as his Car-
pathian summits, had been told. The
lady Helena knew him only as a common
tradesman. Crimscn spots burned in her
cheeks. She must say something — for he
waited. Romance demanded that she
murmur " Gabriel — my beloved!" Reason
put into her mouth this: "It cannot be."
But my falcon pen, heeding neither ro-
mance nor reason, let her remain dumb.
What fate awaited the Prince — the lady
or the mitten? Aye, there was the rub.
I slapped on my hat and strode down
to the Effingham public library.
Venicia was dragging down the Henty
books for a lord of the marble arena. She
did not seem to sense my presence.
"Venicia," I said, after I had shifted
from foot to foot as long as I deemed
compatible with literary dignity, "Venicia,
I'm bound to have your assistance."
She looked my way, cold as some
goddess of reason. "Indeed," she com-
mented.
"Indeed" from Venicia conveys more
than three volumes of heroine-patter by
Bulwer-Lytton. "Venicia — oh, Venicia — •
what is the matter?" I agonized. The
Henty devotee stood gaping at me.
"Fraud — deceiver — impostor," withered
Venicia. "I have searched the American
and United States catalogs year by year.
There is no trace of 'Cabbages that Bask
in the Sunlight.' ''The Glooming Dragon'
was never published. The others are not
listed."
I groaned.
"Plagiarist," continued Venicia. "That
exquisite idyl you read to me about
Calvo the Monk is another man's work.
I found it last night in a book called
'The Princess Amazona.' "
I groaned again. The Henty worshiper
whispered loudly that the long-haired
358
REMINISCENCE
guy was sick. Venicia turned haughtily
to wait upon an old gentleman who
sought to know of comets.
" Venicia," I shouted, so that the Henty
follower dropped "With Clive in India."
"The Prince Gabriel is on his bended
knees. Should the lady Helena take him
for himself alone — risking, believing,
blindly trusting?"
Some note of agony in my voice must
have held her. Besides she had always
plead the cause of His Royal Highness.
Venicia hesitated. I brushed into the
little enclosure.
"Venicia Gregory, will you marry me?"
She handed "Schlegenburger on Ter-
restrial Gravitation" to the open-mouthed
urchin and gave "The Cat of Bubastes"
to Father Graybeard.
"But— " protested Venicia.
"Will you," I pressed, "risking, believing,
blindly trusting?"
"But—" insisted Venicia.
"Hey!" cried Father Graybeard. "This
book is all flags and battles."
"Hi!" yelped the Henty devotee. "This
here's a school book about stars and what
makes it rain."
"Will you, Venicia?" I asked for the
third time.
"Y-e-e-s," said Venicia. "But that
beautiful renunciation scene is from 'The
Princess Amazona,' by Etherington Kelrn-
scot."
"I'm Etherington Kelmscot," said I,
and squeezed her hand beneath the
covers of the rejected "Terrestrial Gravi-
tation." "Only my publishers and im-
mediate relatives know that Kelmscot,
the novelist, is in real life Stephen Lloyd
Atherton. I fibbed about the titles and
plots in order to keep the secret."
I scribbled on the blank sheet of paper
I had brought these words: " 'Gabriel,
my beloved,' said Helena Rocking-
ham."
"That's dear of you," whispered Ve-
nicia over my shoulder. Then she ex-
changed the "Terrestrial Gravitation" for
"The Cat of Bubastes."
REMINISCENCE
EDWARD WILBUR MASON
TO me the sight of roses on the briar,
Brings swift a dream of storied Helen's face;
And all my soul entranced with lovely grace,
Drinks like a moth of beauty's flame of fire.
The clouds of dust that on the winds aspire,
Recall the thought of Caesar's majesty;
And something in the courtier's soul of me,
Bowing its head, is thereby lifted higher!
To me the mighty city's iron height
Recalls Olympus, and the crowd that plods
The channeled street and struggles day and night,
Brings back a vision of impassioned gods;
And all my soul aroused to brotherhood,
Salutes with awe the common multitude!
Cretan's
TUNNEL
ADVENTURE*
Hayes, Eagan and
Pridey, the tunnel workers, and
Kelly, the ward politician, were
all sitting around McMann's
stove in the corner saloon on Henderson
Street, Hoboken, one cool evening in
March, 1905. They were all silently
smoking their short, clay "T. D." pipes,
for though
uThe Indian with his pipe of peace has
slowly passed away,
The Irishman with his piece of pipe has
surely come to stay."
"Do yer mind, b'ys," said Eagan,
meditatively, as his pipe belched forth a
cloud of smoke, "the accidint that was
after happenin' to poor ole Conlin, on
the night of October 9, 1903? He was
wurruking in the south bore of the Noo
York and Noo Jarsey railroad company's
twin trolley tunnel under the Hudson
River, near the Jarsey City shore. A
leak was after bein' sprung bechune the
steel-plated roof of the tunnel and the
tail end of the borin' shield, which was
followed up by a blow-out. The silt and
water rushed into the box, and the body
of poor ole Conlin was found thirty-one
days arfter in a lot of weeds which came
up from the bed of the river."
"Sure, that was a tough death," re-
marked Pridey, puffing hard on his pipe,
"and do you mind, b'ys, the case of Mike
Burke, the man from Phillidelphi, who
was killed in the same tunnel, on June 30,
1903? He was caught in the machinery
which they used for runnin' the cyars.
Arrah! it's a dangerous bizness."
"And do yuz also mind," said Mike
Lynch, the bar-tender, as he carefully
polished a glass on his apron (he being
an interested and privileged bystander),
"that cave-in about twinty-five years ago,
when most of yez wuz kids, in which more
than twinty men lost their lives? That
made 'em give up the attimpt to make a
tunnel bechune Noo York an' Jarsey City."
"Yis," said Hayes, taking a huge
swallow from his glass, "an' me brother
wuz a brakeman on the Erie whin five
cyars loaded wid coal standin' on the
thracks over the Pennsylvania tunnel at
Weehawken fell into the hole — but luckily
nobody wuz hurt that time."
Silence once more fell upon the company
as they smoked in quiet contentment.
"Creegan," remarked Kelly at last, as
he held up his right hand with the fingers
distended to signify to the bartender that
five extra beers were required, "would
yer mind bein' after tilling us about that
advinshure yer wuz after havin' in the
tunnil the other day I wuz home, sick?"
"Sure, Kelly, if yer want to hear it,
although Lord knows I'm after bein' sick
for the tellin' of it so many times," re-
plied Creegan, who was a small, pale,
wiry Irishman of about twenty-four years
of age, apparently, "but perhaps some of
these b'ys who wuz wid me at the time
could be after telling tlie story better
than I can; at inny rate they can help
me out wid it.
"Yer see, Kelly, it wuz this way. The
boss who is buildin' the tunnel under the
river from Brooklyn to Noo Yorrk for
the Rapid Thransit Commission, offered
(359)
360
CREEGAN'S TUNNEL ADVENTURE
me high wages if I wud worrk at the
danger p'int up in the front of the ditch,
me knowin' all about me bizness. Yer
see the East River Tunnel is bein' bored
from both sides of the river by the Noo
Yorrk Tunnel Company, and on the
Brooklyn end at the foot of Joralemon
Street and forninst the Woodruff stores
where I wuz worrkin' we had got about
two hundred feet from the shaft and were
well under water. Yer see the tunnel is
like a big tube and we have to keep back
the mud and water with compressed air
of about sixteen pounds to the square
inch. Gee! but don't I remember how
me ears were after bleedin' when I first
had that weight on 'em! But Hayes or
Johnny Eagan kin tell yer more about
the tunnel than I kin, Kelly," continued
Creegan modestly, "altho' I know the
ways of the crittur pretty well.
"Yer see it takes eight min to keep the
blades free and clear that are eatin' into
the river mud, and we have to have two
sets of locks. In the rear box made by the
lock nearest the shore, the min^are shovel-
lin' back the dirrt an' mud. In the front
box where the blades bite the mud is
where the fun is. What we calls an
'apron' divides the box into two parts;
four men they work above it and four
men they work below. Now it is in the
front box where we min are after gettin'
the most pay. That is where the danger
point lies, for yer see it is only the air
presshure which is after keepin' back
the mud and water. If the tunnel springs
a leak, why look out, that's all. If the
air bubbles out, the river is likely to come
in on us at any moment and then it's all
over but the shoutin' and the takin' of
us away to the cimitery. We fellers have
to have plenty of bags of hay and sand
to use like corks to a bottle, in case she
springs a leak.
"Now me frien's and meself," said
Creegan, pointing to his three companions,
"had jist commenced worrk the other
mornin' when I hears an unusual soun'
above the grindin' of the machinery, a
sort of cracklin' and crumblin' like I have
heard in an approachin' thunderstorm,
that heavy air on our ears makin' it sound
more peculiar. Of course I looks at the
walls, and there I sees above me head
the ooze was a shiftin' and bubblin', and
the water was beginnin' to trickle down
in big drops.
" 'The bags, b'ys, the bags!' I yelled as
loud as I could, although yer can't hear
a voice in the tunnel very well. Me
frien' Hayes, he grabs a bag of sand and
plunks it up forninst the spot where the
water is a bubblin' out, an' I starts for
another bag, and jist thin it all takes
place. But jist here's where I'll let me
frien' John Pridey tell the story for a
piece."
"Well, Mr. Kelly," said Pridey, as he
bit off a liberal section of that dainty
known as "Soldier Boy," (his pipe having
gone out in his interest in Creegan 's
story), "the next thing as I knows I finds
meself a goin' thro' the air jist like I had
been blown away by a dinnimite blast
(as I wuz once before, Lor' bless me),
an' Eagan and Hayes and meself all
found ourselves tying our legs in mono-
grams up against the back o' the lock. But
where was Creegan? Shure, he must have
gone up like a rocket with his hands
stretched out forninst his head, for there
we sees his feet and legs a hangin7 down
from the hole in the roof and kickin* like
mad, but no more of Creegan to be seen.
He was a kickin' and squirmin' just like
he had been a fish caught on a hook, and
for the life of me, if I had been killed on
the spot, I couldn't help laffing at the
sight. But I soon stopped that when I
saw the position we wuz all in. There
was Creegan up there, plugging the hole.
Now if we all took hold and pulled him
back, the river would come in on all of us.
Was it better to save the lives of three min
by lettin' one die, or should we all die
together? For a quarter of a minute we
stood there not knowin' what to do when
suddenly the fates decided it for us. I
hears a rush an' a roar, and thin I sees
Creegan 's feet go up like a flash out o'
sight, and then the Driver came in on us.
But strange to say the leak stopped as
quick as it began, and the presshure of
the air came back on our ears. Then the
b'ys from the lock behind who had heard
the rumpus and knew somethin' wuz up,
came in an' pulled us out.
"Now, Creegan, yer go on wid yer
story," said Pridey, once more refilling
CREEGAN'S TUNNEL ADVENTURE
361
his pipe, and taking a long, refreshing
drink from his schooner. Story-telling is
always thirsty work.
"Arrah, min," exclaimed Creegan, while
his little gray eyes twinkled with amuse-
ment. "I was thin havin' the time of me
life. The fust thing I knew I was jerked
up to the ceiling like I had been tied to
the drag rope of a balloon. I found meself
stuck in the mud, head fust, an' I couldn't
get up nor down, and the mud and pebbles
of the river bottom a chokin' of me like
as I would be strangled. O, the minny
thoughts of the sins of me past life I had,
run thro' me head as I hung there for a
minute which seemed days and days long,
and me with me breath mos' gone. I
knowed what had happened. While us
fellers were all pluggin' up one leak,
another had started in a spot we did not
suspect, and the compressed air trying
to get out carried me up to the hole like
a wet snowball. I knew I could not get
back for the presshure was too strong, and
me only hope was to butt up thro' the
river bed, an' me not knowin' how many
feet of mud I would have to go thro'.
Talk about Hiram Buttinski — he wuzn't
in it wid me. An', oh, the thoughts I
thunk at that time. I remembered once
readin' a story in me boyhood days of a
Prince who was so fond of plum puddin',
that his father, in order to break him of
the habit, had a small room made of
puddin' built for his son, and the only
way the boy could escape was by eatin'
his way thro' it. He got so sick of eatin'
that pudding that he was mos' ready to
die — but it cured him of the habit and he
never touched puddin' afterwards. Sez
I to meself, sez I, I guess the only way
out o' this is to eat me way out, and I
opens me mouth to say good-bye to the
b'ys, when instanter it is filled with the
mud and pebbles of the river and I finds
meself nearly chokin' to death. I thought
of many of me bad deeds in that awful
minit, and pertically of the five dollars I
owed McCann for drinks. I knew I could
not get back and so I jabbed and butted
into the mud and pasted away jest as I
used to go for Eagan when we wuz b'ys
together. Just as I feel me breath goin'
for good, I gets free and wid an awful
rush up I goes into the open air as high
as a house, an' I sees a great light and
gets one look at the Brooklyn shore and
down I comes into the icy river wid
me breath gone and I just able to keep
afloat, while I tries to fill up me lungs a
little with God's fresh air.
"Then I seen a boat a-comin' alongside,
and though me hands were nearly froze,
it was that cold, I managed to catch hold
of the rope they threw me."
"An* what was you a-thinkin' about
when yer wuz up in the air, Dick?" asked
Mike, pouring out another beer. "Did
yer think yer wuz goin' straight up to
St. Peter's?"
"Shure," said Creegan, "I didn't have
time to think of anything till I struck the
water, and thin I stretches out me legs
and finds they wuz all right, and then I
feels of me ar-rms, and shure, they wuz
all there, and I thinks to meself, 'indeed,
I don't believe yer can kill an Irishman.'
And thin they rowed me ashore, took me
to the grogery and after puttin' a few
hot whuskies into me, I felt like another
man. Ah, shure, it is whuskey which is
the grand invintion.
"I had to laff at the way Mike Maloney,
one of the longshoremen who pulled me
into the boat, told the story. Mike spun
his yarn while they wuz warmin' me up
in the saloon. Mike sez, sez he, 'I wuz
on the dock a-lookin' off to'rd the Statoo
of Liberty, when all of a suddint I sees a
bubblin' and a boilin' on the surface of
the water jist about half a block away.
Then I sees the bubblin' stop, and up
shoots a big geyser like one I seen in the
Yellowstone, about thirty feet high, an'
on the top of it I sees something black like
the body of a man go whirlin' 'round and
'round, mixed up with boards, rocks, hay,
sand and mud, and thin I skips to untie
a boat and shouts "Man overboard" and in-
two minits we had yer in the boat, Dick.'
"The company wanted to do somethin'
for me, but I only took a day off to rest
up. The ambulance surgeon and the
police thought somethin' must be done
for me, but a few drinks and a trolley
over the bridge wuz all I needed. You
fellers (pointing to Hayes, Pridey and
Eagan) wuz worse off than I wuz, although
you wuz more scared than hurt. They
put a few stitches in me head an' I wint
362
AT JERUSALEM
home, put on me b'iled shirt (widout de
collar) and turned in wid me boots on.
Me poor ole mither she cried over me,
an* me sister called me a careless mon,
an' a bunch of me nabors hearing of the
story come aroun' an' takes me here to
McMann's. Sure, it was a good thing
for McMann, for he did a rushin' business
all the rest of that day an' evenin' and he
marked me score off the slate an' told me
he hoped I'd get blown up through the
river at least once a week in the future.
"Brother Jim he sits out on the steps
an* tells about 150 noospaper photogra-
phers an* reporters that there would be no
more picters that day, and it wuz too bad
to worrit poor people what had troubles
of their own."
"The remarkable thing about this ad-
vinshure," said Hayes, "is the fact that
the three of us who were left behind after
Creegan went up, got out alive. Accordin'
to all rules of tunnels what I have ever
worked in, the rush of mud an' water
should have done the bizness for us poor
divils. In ninety-nine cases out of one
hundred the air would have been pushed
out of the bubble, and thin the mud an'
water would have settled down, drowning
us like rats in a cage. Probably a rush of
mud and silt plugged the hole after
Creegan shot through."
"At inny rate," exclaimed Creegan,
"I'm sick o' hearin' this story ag'in, an*
it's only told for Mr. Kelly's binift.
"Here, Mike, set 'em up ag'in."
AT JERUSALEM
By EDNA DEAN PROCTOR
I STOOD by the Holy City,
* Without the Damascus Gate,
While the wind blew soft from the distant sea,
And the day was wearing late,
And swept its wide horizon
With reverent, lingering gaze,
From the rolling uplands of the west
That slope a hundred ways,
To Olivet's gray terraces
By Kedron's bed that rise,
Upon whose crest the Crucified
Was lost to mortal eyes;
And, far beyond, to the tawny line
Where the sun seemed still to fall —
So bright the hue against the blue,
Of Moab's mountain wall;
And north to the hills of Benjamin,
Whose springs are flowing yet,
Ramah, and sacred Mizpah,
Its dome above them set;
And the beautiful words of the Psalmist
Had meaning before unknown:
As the mountains are 'round Jerusalem
The Lord is 'round His own.
Copyright, 1905, by Edna Dean Proctor.
A
- Millau
nE was stronger and cleverer, no
doubt, than other men, and in
many broad lines of business he
had grown rich, until his wealth
exceeded exaggeration. One morning, in
his office, he directed a request to his
confidential lawyer to come to him in
the afternoon. He intended to have his
will drawn. A will is a solemn matter,
even with men whose life is given up to
business, and who are by habit mindful
of the future. After giving this direction,
he took up no other matter, but sat at
his desk alone and in silence.
It was a day when summer was first
new. The pale leaves upon the trees
were starting forth upon the still unbend-
ing branches. The grass in the parks
had a freshness in its green like the fresh-
ness of the blue in the sky and of the
yellow of the sun — a freshness to make
one wish that life might renew its youth.
The clear breezes from the south wantoned
about, and then were still, as if loath to
go finally away.
Half idly, half thoughtfully, the rich
man wrote upon the white paper before
him, beginning what he wrote with capital
letters, such as he had not made since,
as a boy at school, he had taken pride
in his skill with the pen:
"!N THE NAME OF GOD, AMEN: I, Charles
Lounsbury, being of sound and disposing
mind and memory [he lingered on the word
memory], do now make and publish this,
my LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT, in order, as
justly as I may to distribute my interests
in the world among succeeding men.
"And first, that part of my interests
which is known in the law and recog-
nized in the sheep-bound volumes as my
property, being inconsiderable and of
none account, I make no account of it
in this my will.
"My right to live, it being but a life
estate, is not at my disposal, but, these
excepted, all else in the world I now pro-
ceed to devise and bequeath.
"ITEM— And first, I give to good
fathers and mothers, but in trust for their
children, nevertheless, all good little
words of praise and all quaint pet names,
and I charge said parents to use them
justly, but generously as the needs of
their children shall require.
"ITEM— I leave to children exclu-
sively, but only for the life of their child-
hood, all and every, the dandelions of the
fields and the daisies thereof, with the
right to play among them freely, according
to the custom of children, warning them
at the same time against the thistles. And
I devise to children the yellow shores of
creeks and the golden sands beneath the
waters thereof, with the dragon-flies that
skim the surface of said waters, and the
odors of the willows that dip into said
waters, and the white clouds that float
high over the giant trees.
"And I leave to children the long, long
days to be merry in, in a thousand ways,
and the Night and the Moon and the
train of the Milky Way to wonder at, but
subject, nevertheless, to the right there-
inafter given to lovers; and I give to each
child the right to choose a star that shall
be his, and I direct that the child's father
shall tell him the name of it, in order
that the child shall always remember the
name of that star after he has learned and
forgotten astronomy.
"ITEM— I devise to boys jointly all
the useful idle fields and commons where
ball may be played, and all snow-clad
hills where one may coast, and all streams
(363)
3G4
A LAST WILL
and ponds where one may skate, to have
and to hold the same for the period of
their boyhood. And all meadows, with
the clover blooms and butterflies thereof;
and all woods, with their appurtenances
of squirrels and whirring birds and echoes
11 He was stronger and cleverer, no doubt, than other men"
and strange noises: and all distant places
which may be visited, together with the
adventures there found, I do give to said
boys to be theirs; and I give to said boys
each his own place at the fireside at night,
with all the pictures that may be seen in
the burning wood or coal, to enjoy without
let or hindrance, and without any incum-
brance of cares.
"ITEM— To lovers I devise their
imaginary world, with whatever they may
need, as the stars of the sky, the red, red
roses by the wall, the snow of the haw-
thorn, the sweet strains of music, or
aught else they may desire to figure to
each other the last-'
ingness and beauty
of their love.
"ITEM — To
young men jointly,
being joined in a
brave, mad crowd,
I devise and be-
queath all boister-
ous, inspiring sports
of rivalry. I give
to them the disdain
of weakness and un-
daunted confidence
in their own
strength. Though
they are rude and
rough, I leave to
them alone the
power of making
lasting friendships
and of possessing
companions: and to
them exclusively I
give all merry songs
and brave choruses
to sing, with smooth
voices to troll them
forth.
"ITEM— And to
those who are no
longer children or
youths, or lovers, or
young men, I leave
a memory, and I
leave to them the
volumes of the
poems of Burns and Shakespeare, and
of other poets, if there are others, to
the end that they may live the old days
over again freely and fully, without tithe
or diminution: and to those who are no
longer children or youths or lovers I leave,
too, the knowledge of what a rare, rare
world it is."
(Signed) WILLISTON FISH.
THE HIGH COST OF LIVING
By W. C. JENKINS
T^HE attitude of the United States re-
* garding the high cost of living is
about like that shown in Nast's famous
cartoon of the Tweed ring: It is always
the other fellow who is responsible and
not oneself. We accept high prices for
what we produce with a virtuous air of
having gotten only our just deserts,
whereas we strenuously object to paying
higher prices for things produced by
others; and so we raise the question of
blame.
Committees of Congress and various
commissions have been trying to fix the
blame. It would be only fair to say that
we are all to blame, for the fundamental
reasons for higher prices of things lie to
a large extent back of the present genera-
tion and beyond the power of present
control.
Once a Colorado plainsman, who took
the Pikes Peak trail in '59, complained
that "these days are not like the old days."
Now he works on a ranch for forty dollars
a month and board. In the old days he
got from twelve to fifteen dollars a day.
Asked concerning the cost of flour, pork,
clothing and other necessities in '59 his
answer showed that he had nothing left,
as indeed his character would indicate.
/But when it was said to him that he was
no better off in those days than now he
answered: "Well, maybe not, but I had'
the fun of spending the money." It is
so with most of us; we prefer the large
income, even though the outgo is pro-
portionately as large.
This magnificent continent was built
up through geological ages, its hills and
mountains stored with precious metal;
its plains underlaid with coal, oil and
gas, hidden for the later uses of the race;
its soil was first created and then made
rich by a workman who asked no wages,
and the forests were grown regardless of
expense. And nature presented this
continent so rich in all that is of value
to humanity as a free gift to our race,
whereupon we, or our fathers, began to
exploit it and convert the wealth, which
had been centuries in creation and de-
velopment, into usable and marketable
forms. We converted the soil elements
into crops without regard to replacing
them, and when the soil in one farm be-
came exhausted we abandoned it and
moved to another virgin spot. Trees,
which nature had been a hundred, two
hundred or five hundred years in growing,
we cut down, used the best of them and
let the rest decay or burn or grow, as
chance should direct, on untold millions
of acres. When we began to mine we dug
out the coal which was most easily se-
cured and of the best quality and left
half the fuel value in the ground to be
buried by cave-ins. In our gold and
silver mines we skimmed off the cream,
and now we are going back for the tail-
ings. So it has been in all our develop-
ment; we have not produced, we have
simply converted what nature produced
into something we could sell.
Everything used to be cheap on this
continent, for the reason that all that
corn, wheat, cattle, hogs, cotton, lumber,
coal and oil cost was simply the labor of
converting these freely given natural
resources into salable commodities, plus
a profit, little or big, as opportunity per-
mitted.
If we or our fathers have been to
blame, we have nevertheless all received
the benefit, for on the basis of these cheap
things we have built up a great nation;
and if from the beginning we had con-
served our resources instead of exploiting
them, the development would have been
slower, to what extent it is impossible to
say.
As we approach the end of these virgin
resources, we are concerned about re-
placing those which can be replaced, or
of making the utmost possible use of those
(365)
366
THE HIGH COST OF LIVING
which*cannot. We demand' that the soil
shall not be mined but cultivated. We
demand that the forests shall be replaced
and that those which remain shall be
used so as to perpetuate them; we ask
Photo by courtesy of the American Lumberman
A DOUGLAS FIR, CONTAINING ABOUT 16,000 FEET
Worth $24 at $1.50 a thousand feet; cost to grow $183.36
that our mines shall be so handled as to
prolong their addition to our national
welfare.
The forests attract no small amount of
attention, and great is the clamor against
the lumbermen, but all of us have used the
resources which we particularly had in
charge in the same way and have treated
the forests, so far as we had to do with
them, with even less respect than have
the lumbermen, because the latter are
dealing with the thing out of
which they make their living.
When this continent was
opened to the white race a
solid forest, magnificent in
variety and quality, covered
from the Atlantic shore line
westward to well beyond the
Mississippi. At first this forest
was free to everyone, but as
settlement began the woods
were allotted to individuals, or
for the use of the settlement,
and gradually private owner-
ship in them was recognized;
yet for two hundred years
most of the forest area was
open to exploitation by any-
one who could make use of it.
Up to seventy-five years
ago the forest was a bless-
ing to the extent that the
settler could make use of it,
but an encumbrance beyond
that point. The early settler in
Pennsylvania, Ohio, Kentucky,
or Tennessee built his house
and his sheds out of the tim-
ber on his land; used what he
could for fencing, and perhaps
in some places sold a few logs
for the market; but for the
most part he had to fell the
trees, roll them into heaps and
burn them, for it was always
more important to raise men
than trees, and he must have
room to grow corn and wheat
that his children might have
bread.
The plumber [industry de-
veloped with the cities. The
Dutch settlers on Manhattan
Island found enough timber on
the island for their first wants, but eventu-
ally, as the nearby forest was cut away,
they went up the Hudson for their supplies.
Every city as it grew had to go farther
and farther away for its lumber and
timber and shingles and everything of
THE HIGH COST OF LIVING
367
wood it needed, and so the lumber busi-
ness came to be gradually more than a
purely local industry and finally stretched
out beyond the forests of New England,
New York and Pennsylvania into Michi-
gan, Wisconsin and Minnesota. With
the increasing demand and the diminish-
ing supplies in the older lumbering states
it extended South and finally West, where
now the sound of the saws is mingled
with the roar of the breakers of the Pacific
— but always, until very lately, the timber
of the continent seemed inexhaustible.
brick and steel. Even thirty years ago a
price of more than two dollars a thousand
feet, board measure, for standing timber
was a rarity; and such a price was paid
only in sections where the industry was
developed and for preferred classes of
timber. At that time practically the
whole yellow pine territory of the South
could have been bought at from sixty-two
and one-half cents to $2.25 an acre, while
the timber of the Pacific Coast, except a
little redwood and fir lying so close to
the water that it could practically be
WHEAT ON WORN CLAY SOIL
Grown by W. A. Hart, Jay County, Indiana, season 1910. Field marked (KPN), fertilized with 77 pounds blood,
77 pounds neutral phosphate and 50 pounds sulphate of potash, yielded 8 2-3 bushels. Field marked (P N) , fertilized
with blood and phosphate without potash, yielded 6 bushels, making an increase of 2 2-3 bushels, due to the 50
pounds of sulphate of potash. Value of wheat 90 cents to $1.00 per bushel, cost of potash $1.50, which is the
maximum price for potash, shows the potash more than paid for itself in the yield, although the difference in the
stand on the two plots is not as striking as where no fertilizer is used. Referring to photo on page 376 you
will note that the field without potash tested 56 1-2 pounds per bushel, while the field with 50 pounds of sulphate
of potash in the fertilizer tested over 57 pounds per bushel. If the wheat was sold by the struck bushel a larger
price would be received for that testing 57.1 pounds than that testing 56.5 pounds, and so the net gain from the
field fertilized with a well-balanced fertilizer would be greater than from an improperly fertilized field. A point
to be brought out here shows that accurate methods in farming pay far better than haphazard methods.
Until within forty years there was
hardly any timber land in the United
States that was sold on the basis of a
close estimate of the quantity per acre.
Good pine land could be secured from
the government at almost a gift or bought
for a song from the homesteaders or other
original holders. Timber was cheap. Its
ownership was not prized, and it was
treated as a cheap thing.
The people wanted cheap lumber and
they got it, and out of it was largely built
the cities, villages and the homes of all
the people, until these days of concrete,
felled into it and floated to the mills, had
no value at all that anyone could quote.
Even ten years ago the Northern Pacific
Railroad Company timber lands in Wash-
ington— one million acres — went begging
a buyer at seven dollars an acre and were
turned down by everyone until finally
Frederick Weyerhaeuser — he of the far-
seeing mind — succeeded in capitalizing
a company to take them over.
It is no wonder, in view of the fact
that timber was little regarded and was
used as a cheap thing, that it was from
our standpoint wasted by settler and
368
TBE HIGH COST OF LIVING
lumberman alike. But note for a moment
this fact: Nature spent years in growing
a beautiful pine, straight as a column in
a cathedral, tall as the loftiest ship's
mast, white, light and soft — the delight
of the woodworker. Nature counted not
CORN ON MUCK LAND
Grown by Joe Dahl, Starke County, Indiana. No
fertilizer applied. Photo taken August 12, 1910
the investment or the interest charges
nor hazard of fire or wind or disease.
The forest, perhaps, had been building
for twenty-five thousand years and for
five thousand it had seen no change.
Trees had grown to maturity, died, fallen
and been succeeded by others, and then
man came as the inheritor free of charge
of this age-long process and simply con-
verted it into lumber with practically
no regard for the cost of raw material —
the tree standing in the forest — and sold
it at the cost of conversion, plus his profit,
if he was fortunate enough to secure a
profit. Even a profit was ordinarily hard
to get, because the forests seemed ex-
haustless and they were free to any ex-
ploiter and competition was unrestricted.
But then came the time when it was seen
that there was, after all, an end to the
forests, or if they were inexhaustible that
the nearby supply was coming to an end,
and standing timber came to have a value.
Now we face the certainty that in the
not far distant future, timber must be
grown as we grow wheat or cotton; and
when we come to grow trees we must
pay the cost. The anticipation of that
not far distant future is already felt in
the market value and the quality of our
timber supplies. The government has
put into reserve most of the forests still
remaining on public lands, and private
holders, at last realizing the real value
of their possessions, are putting a price
on them which will save them from waste.
The lumber industry shows the same
controlling conditions as does the agri-
cultural soil — scarcity first; and, second,
the necessity of replacement by actual
growth and investment. Lumber is not
high-priced today — it was simply too
low-priced a little while ago. When we
actually arrive at the point of paying
the cost of our lumber the present price
will seem insignificant.
A forester has made some careful com-
putations as to what it will cost to grow
different kinds of timber. In each case
he assumed a land value of only three
dollars an acre and a cost of planting that
acre with trees of seven dollars. On this
basis white pine, which is now worth,
on the average, in the United States,
about eight dollars a thousand feet,
board measure, would cost fourteen dollars
at the end of ninety years, when it would
have no such quantity of clear lumber
as we have enjoyed in the past. Red
CORN ON MUCK LAND
Grown by Joe Dahl, Starke County, Indiana. Ap-
plied 200 pounds per acre of muriate of potash in spring
before planting. Photo taken August 12, 1910
oak, that quickly growing species, and no .
the heavy, strong and enduring white
oak, would cost $28.39 in one hundred
years. Poplar hi a hundred years would
cost $27.23, whereas now its average
price in the tree is about $4.64 a thousand.
Yellow pine furnishes more than a third
of all the lumber produced and used in
the United States. There are several
Photo by courtesy of American Lumberman
A MAMMOTH POPLAR
Containing approximately 40,000 feet board
measure, worth $185.60 at present market value
of $4.64 a thousand feet. Cost to grow $1,089.20
TYPICAL SOUTHERN RED OAK TREE
Containing approximately 8,000 feet board measure, worth
$16 at present market value of $2 a thousand feet._ Cost
to grow $227.12
370
THE HIGH COST OF LIVING
species. Averaging them all, the present
value is a little over three dollars a thou-
sand feet. Loblolly, a fast-growing species,
would cost to bring it to fifty years of
age $4.70, but the long leaf, the famous
pitch pine of commerce, the Georgia-
pine as the architects know it, would
cost at the end of one hundred years
$22.28, and then it would but poorly
compare with the magnificent trees stand-
ing today, which furnish the basis of
commerce in the woods, and have been
Ot KPN PH
WHEAT GROWN ON WORN CLAY SOIL
By W. A. Hart, Jay County, Indiana, season 1910.
Photo shows characteristic wheat grown on field
fertilized with well-balanced fertilizer with plenty cf
potash (KPN) and wheat grown without potash
(P N). Samples pulled roots and'all from soil. Roots
plainly shown
growing from two hundred to 250 years.
Douglas fir, or Oregon pine, the chief
product of the Pacific coast forests, is
worth today less than $1.50 a thousand
feet. Many of these trees have been
five hundred years growing, but in only
a hundred years its cost would be $11.46
a thousand.
When the country reaches a point that
it is willing to grow trees it must pay
prices which make those now prevailing
insignificant. It will simply duplicate
the experience of western Europe, where
prices are from two to ten times those
prevailing in the United States, and as
the cost of stumpage — the standing timber
— advances, so must the cost of its product,
as the consumer buys it, also increase.
The soil problem is very similar. It
is true that ordinary crops are of annual
growth while trees require from thirty
to 150 years to mature. But crops with-
out fertile soil are impossible and, while
the lumbermen have been marketing
what nature gave them free of charge,
many farmers have been doing identically
the same thing by selling soil fertility
of untold value which they acquired for
a song. Only in the last few years have
we begun to realize the serious aspect
of the agricultural problem. So long as
there was virgin soil to rob of its fertility,
the inevitable end was obscured. But
now that consumption has overtaken
production, and there are no more states
like Iowa, Illinois, Minnesota, the Dakotas
and Nebraska to be exploited, the American
people have awakened to the true situation
and are inquiring whence are to come
the necessities of life at prices that seem
reasonable.
The truth must be told with brutal
frankness that we have been mining the
soil instead of tilling it; that with the
finest body of agricultural lands in the
world we excel in wheat-growing only the
peasants of Russia and the ryots of India;
that we grow less than one-half the wheat
grown in England, France and Germany
on land that had been farmed many cen-
turies before the first plow penetrated
the American soil.
In many localities in the United States
may be seen woeful wastes from lack of
organization and tools for different types
of farming; loss from systems in which
labor is not kept fully employed on the
farm and from fluctuation in labor needs;
loss from neglected machinery; loss from
idle lands on roadsides and in fence corners;
loss from lack of product-storing facilities;'
loss from unmarketable fruits and vege-
tables and the failure to utilize such pro-
ducts for feeding and canning; loss from
proper education and training of farm
managers and workers; loss from wrong
THE HIGH COST OF LIVING
371
methods of marketing and loss from lack
of proper financial credit.
A continuously flung flag will never
mark an unusual event; so long as the
price of food products remained about
the same, good or bad systems of farming
failed to impress the mind or to arouse
any particular attention. But since the
American people have seen every farm
product that enters the kitchen door
greatly advanced in price, it is perhaps
not strange that a searching inquiry
should be made in an effort to locate the
cause which has produced the effect.
We have been gradually, but surely,
approaching the present problem for more
American farmers, is not a new one. It
was asserted in the earliest English work
of importance on agriculture, "Ye Boke
of Husbandrie," published in 1534. M
Twenty-eight years later Martin Tusser
published his famous "Five Hundred
Points of Husbandrie" in which he says:
"Otes, rie or else barlie, and wheat that is gray
Brings land out of comfort, and soon to decay.
One after another, no comfort betweene
Is crop upon crop, as will quickly be scene. 1
Stiircrop^upon'crop many farmers do take]
And reap little profiteer greediness sake."
A study of agricultural conditions, as
today presented in this and other coun-
tries, will not enable the searcher for
WHEAT ON WORN CLAY SOIL
Grown by W. A. Hart, Jay County, Indiana, season 1910. Field marked (O) produced 1.7 bushels and received
no fertilizer. Field marked (K P N) fertilized with 77 pounds blood, 77 pounds neutral phosphate and 50 pounds
sulphate of potash, and yielded 8 2-3 bushels. Difference in stand and yield both strikingly in favor of fertilizers
than a quarter of a century, but only
within the last few years have we begun
to realize the seriousness of the situation.
We now find that, notwithstanding the
virgin acres added by the million, the yield
of grain per average acre has been slowly
declining for forty years. We find, too,
that our farmers have burned up the
humus of the soil by excessive cultiva-
tion and lack of proper fertilization and
they must restore, at great expense, the
phosphorus and nitrogen they have sold
for a song to feed the people not alone of
their own country but of other nations.
The permanency of agriculture lies in
proper rotation of crops and in the con-
servation and systematic building up of
the fertility of the soil. This^doctrine,
though -disregarded by thousands of
truth boastfully to laud the American
farmer. He will find conditions of farm-
ing in many parts of the United States
but little advanced over those of Mexico,
ancient Egypt and others of the less pro-
gressive nations of the Old World. He
will be amazed at the comparative results
of fifty years of American agricultural
progress with that of Japan. For half
a century the people of this progressive
little nation have been gaining ideas and
lessons from the farmers of the universe
and the result is not only a tribute to
their energy, but well worthy of emulation.
The frugality and thrift of the German
farmer has increased the cultivated fields
of Germany and greatly enhanced their
productivity. The national growth and
resources have been correspondingly stim-
372
THE HIGH COST OF LIVING
ulated. The German
farmer is a firm be-
liever in crop rotation,
the use of manures and
commercial fertilizers
and has secured there-
by a greater produc-
tion per acre as well as
an added value to the
land.
From the very verge
of bankruptcy at the
beginning of the nine-
teenth century to a
prominent position
among the nations of
the world is the result
of intelligent and thrif-
ty farming methods in
the little Kingdom of
Denmark. In that
country agriculture
has advanced to a high
state of perfection due
to the intelligence and
general thriftiness of
the Danish farmers.
The same is true of
Holland.
Soil robbers are un-
known in France.
Although centuries old,
the agricultural fields
of that country are
producing forty bush-
els of wheat per acre —
a yield three times as
great as the average
wheat yield in the
United States.
Although not land
owners, the majority
of English farmers are
among the most pro-
gressive and intelligent
of the world. Over
eighty-five per cent of
the farm lands in the
United Kingdom are
still held in large es-
tates and are leased
to tenants. These
tenants 'compose the
great middle class of
the nation and are
Photo by courtesy of American Lumberman
A WHITE PINE
. Diameter 30 inches, will average about 2.000
feet of lumber per tree
the backbone of the
monarchy. Not only
are the lands tilled
under scientific and
approved methods but
a careful study of the
most advanced systems
of stock - raising has
been going on for many
years. No other country
can show superiority in
the quality of domestic
animals, and none has
produced so many va-
rieties of the standard
breeds.
If state legislatures
would appropriate suf-
ficient money to send
delegations of farmers
to the little island of
Jersey, they would
bring back ideas of in-
calculable value to the
country in general.
They would find a land
area of but forty -five
miles in extent, sup-
porting a farm popu-
lation of over twelve
hundred inhabitants to
the square mile. Farm
holdings are necessarily
small and every foot is
cultivated in the most
approved manner. The
land is kept at. the
maximum of produc-
tion all the time. For
hundreds of years Jer-
sey cattle have been
the only kind allowed
on this island. Land
values range from
$1,500 to $2,500 per
acre, and the average
annual product of a
Jersey farm exceeds
$250 per acre, and this
is in a state where the
general agricultural
conditions are consid-
ered greatly inferior to
those of many parts of
the United States.
THE HIGH COST OF LIVING
373
The history of American agriculture,
at least until very recently, must be a
history of bad farming. In this country,
owing to the great stores of wealth which
the past had accumulated in the soil, it
is only within recent years that the ques-
tion of the supply of plant food has as-
sumed any practical importance. As long
as there are virgin fields at the disposal
of the soil robber the restoration of ex-
hausted fields was of little consequence.
The final result has been that the wealth
which has been accumulated in the soil
for thousands of years has been exhausted
instead of^making two blades of grass
grow where one grew before, he destroyed
the one that grew.
No lower prices in wool are probable
because the day of free ranges for the
sheep men is rapidly drawing to a close.
Cotton will advance in price rather than
decrease, for the reason that much of
the soil fertility in the cotton states has
been exhausted which is evident by the
diminution in the crop.
Everything in the past has been sold
at virgin soil prices. The cost of a large
proportion of these virgin soils did not
CORN ON BADLY WORN CLAY SOIL
Grown by W. A. Hart, Jay County, Indiana, season 1910. Corn in foreground to which no fertilizer was applied.
In background to the left, corn to which 80 pounds blood, 250 pounds acid phosphate and 100 pounds sulphate of
potash had been>pplied broadcast per acre. Photograph taken August 15, 1910
in less than a half a century. Not only
have these stores of plant food been
utilized, but much to the discredit of the
American farmer, they have been wasted.
Yet the farmer must not be too harshly
blamed. He was simply doing the best
he knew how. It was cheaper to move
to virgin soil than to replenish his worn-
out acres. Like the lumberman he availed
himself of nature's free gifts and sold his
products at prices that were reasonable.
He followed the lines of least resistance
and adopted types of farming akin to
mining, and in the final result^ he drew
from the resources of the soil fertility
until it was exhausted; in other words,
exceed ten dollars per acre; hence the
annual interest charge for each acre was
not more than sixty cents. In virgin
soil the average wheat yield is about thirty
bushels per acre; therefore with a sixty
cent interest charge the expense per
bushel for interest would only be two
cents. Many farmers are raising wheat
on land valued at one hundred dollars
per acre and through soil exhaustion are
only getting a yield of fifteen bushels
to the acre. In such cases the annual
interest expense is six dollars or forty
cents for every bushel raised. In view
of these facts lower prices on food products
can hardly be expected.
374
THE HIGH COST OF LIVING
Our greatest national
agricultural asset is the
character and intelli-
gence of our farmers.
The most inexperienced
and Ignorant man can
make a living by farm-
ing in new soil; all that
is necessary is to plow,
harrow, plant, till and
harvest. Exploitive
farming only requires a
small degree of intelli-
gence, while conserva-
tive farming, whereby
the best forms of stock-
raising for a given local-
ity is applied, requires
more than an ordinary
amount of brains.
In the more newly
settled regions of the
Dakotas, the semi-arid
plains region and the
upper Columbia Basin
of Idaho and Washing-
ton, the original fertility
of the soil still suffices
for the production of
good crops under the
most unscientific meth-
ods of farming, though
it is not difficult to find
many instances of de-
crease in crop yield.
Over the great body of
agricultural lands in the
Mississippi Valley ex-
tending from the Cana-
dian line to the Gulf,
and from the Appalachi-
.an mountains to eastern
Kansas and Nebraska,
may be found large
areas of land that have
been farmed long enough
to exhaust their original
fertility. Many of the
more progressive farm-
ers have changed from
the exploitive system of
farming to the conserva-
tive system and have
adopted methods which
tend to build up the
Photo by courtesy of American Lumberman
A YELLOW PINE, 50 FEET SHOWN
Diameter 30 inches, will cut about
2,500 feet of lumber per tree
soil's fertility, but the
movement is far from
general.
Farming never can be
organized as thoroughly
as manufacturing, nor
with profits along such
narrow lines. The man
who tills the soil will
always encounter many
forces and conditions
which are only partially
controllable even by
men of the greatest
knowledge and skill ; but
he has before him a won-
derful field for develop-
ment. If in the taming
of a continent some mis-
takes have been made,
they have been inci-
dental to experimental
problems encountered in
frontier life, but they
are not beyond correct-
ing. It is possible to
plant more productive
forests than ever grew
wild; more forage can
be grown on the ranges
than grew before and we
can renew the fertility
of depleted soil so that
it will yield one hundred
bushels of corn per acre
instead of ten bushels.
Unfortunately agri-
cultural labor has grown
scarcer and poorer dur-
ing the last few decades.
The immigration of the
peasantry of Northern"
and Western Europe,
formerly so abundant as
to furnish a steady sup-
ply of the best kind
of farm labor, has, in
recent years, almost
ceased. The horde of
immigrants now coming
to the United States is
largely from European
cities and of little use a
farm laborers. Henc
it is" imperative t h a
THE HIGH COST OF LIVING
375
American agriculture should be made so
attractive as to induce a fair proportion
of the brightest young men to remain
on the farms. This attractiveness must
be created by other means than by mere
theoretical discussion on methods of
farming with which the farmer boy is
often more familiar than his instructor.
Farm life with its intimate relations to
the biological and physical sciences is
really the ideal place for the energetic
young man bent on scientific investiga-
tion. The intellectual development real-
ized by the breeding of a new plant or
berry, or a new and superior grain of
corn, far exceeds in interest and importance
the endeavors of the average farmer boy
who goes to the city. To drain the country
of its brightest minds in the future, as,
has been done in the past, is to invite a?
continuous intellectual decline of the
farming class. A free, active and intelli-
gent farm population is the backbone of
every country and no increase in wealth,
no triumph of the industries is possible
when the intelligence of the rural popula-
tion is on the wane.
There are few exceptions wherein the
exploitive types of farming have lingered
beyond the legitimate life. These excep-
tions may be found among the cotton
farms of the South, in the tobacco fields
of Virginia and Maryland and in certain
wheat lands of Southern Illinois, Western
Kentucky, and Southern Missouri. Yet
the great wheat fields of the Sacramento
Valley have reached a point where waning
fertility and a general unprofitable yield
is plainly noticeable. A dozen years ago
the Willamette Valley of Oregon passed
through this experience, but in that section
a change to dairying and other types of
livestock farming have brought the soil
back to its original fertility.
Perhaps it should be stated that the
lack of capital prevents many of the
farmers from adopting the most conserva-
tive and profitable types of farming. The
equipment of an ordinary cotton farm in
the South, including buildings, livestock
and implements, would not exceed ten
dollars per acre. The grain farm of the
West requires an equipment that amounts
to approximately twenty dollars per acre;
a well-conducted hay farm requires forty
dollars; the raising of stock demands a
much larger investment, and a properly
equipped hog farm must have an ex-
penditure of seventy dollars per acre,
for buildings, fences, livestock and ma-
chinery; a good dairy farm requires an
investment of from one hundred dollars
to three hundred dollars per acre.
When we remember that the Great
West has largely been settled with pioneers
without capital, we are not surprised that
the present types of farming should have
OATS ON MUCK LAND
Grown by Joe Dahl, Starke County, Indiana. Oats
on left was grown on field which had received 200
pounds of muriate of potash in 1909, previous to
planting corn. No fertilizer used on the oats direct.
This shows the lasting effect of potash fertilizer. To
right oats grown on corn ground to which no fertilizer
was applied in 1909. Photo taken August 27, 1910.
The fertilizer oats yielded 51 bushels per acre. The
unfertilized 21 £ bushels per acre.
prevailed; but a campaign of education
among the farmers with the object of
inducing them to adopt a more improved
type of agriculture is imperative. They
should be shown that while they are rais-
ing thirty bushels of corn per acre it is
possible to raise one hundred bushels;
that under more approved methods their
wheat yield could be increased from fifteen
to thirty bushels per acre, and this, with
only a slight increased cost to their farms,
for better labor and fertilizers. It would
376
THE HIGH COST OF LIVING
be possible by united efforts to practically
double the yield of nearly every crop in
this country. This has been done in
many of the older countries of Europe
on land that was farmed for centuries.
Twenty years ago the use of artificial
fertilizers was practically confined to the
Atlantic Seaboard and largely used by
fruit-growers and truck-raisers. During
the past two decades the use of commercial
fertilizers has traveled westward at a
rapid pace. To more or less extent they
are used by many farmers from the At-
lantic Coast to Eastern Kansas, from the
WHEAT ON WORN CLAY SOIL
Grown by W. A. Hart, Jay County, Indiana, harvested
1910. Unfertilized acre marked (O) yielded 1.7 bushels
and tested 54.5 pounds per bushel, and contained 6 per
cent smut. Acre fertilized with 77 pounds blood and
77 pounds neutral phosphate and 50 pounds sulphate
of potash marked (K P N) yielded 8 2-3 bushels and
tested 57.1 pounds per bushel and contained but 2
per cent smut. The acre fertilized with phosphate and
blood marked (P N) yielded 6 bushels and tested 56 1-2
pounds per acre, and contained 2 4-5 per cent smut
Gulf of Mexico to the Ohio River and
northward as far as Michigan.
In 1900 the value of commercial fertil-
izers in the United States was about
fifty million dollars; more than one hundred
million dollars will be spent this year.
Some farmers place a dependence in
chemicals to the extent that fully ten
per cent of the value of their crop is re-
turned to the soil each year in the way of
commercial plant food.
Many scientists assert that it is not
necessary for farmers to engage in stock-
raising or dairying in order to maintain
the fertility of the land. This can be
done by commercial plant food, supple-
mented by the use of green manuring
such as clover, alfalfa, or other legumes,
for the purpose of maintaining the humus
content of the soil.
With the present and increasing short-
age of labor in the rural sections, it would
seem that if more crops are to be produced
it will have to be done by more intensive
cultivation and by the use of reliable
commercial plant food. The fertilizers do
not ruin the land as some farmers suppose,
because in the experiments begun more
than sixty years ago in Rothamsted,
England, the land treated with commercial
fertilizer still maintains its fertility equal
to that where barnyard manure has been
applied. By observing the precautions
of right farming, the fertility of productive
land can be maintained for generations to
come.
In any community where fertilizers have
been rightly used, it is a common ex-
perience to find farmers producing fifteen
to thirty bushels of corn more than neigh-
bors who practice the haphazard methods.
Conservative farmers can get as much
from eighty acres of land and be in much
more favorable circumstances than their
exploitive neighbors who plant 160 acres.
They have no money invested in half-
worked or idle lands; and they get much
better returns from capital invested.
As the late President Cleveland re-
marked, it is not a theory but a condition
that confronts us. It will be of little avail
to indulge in recrimination — more con-
structive farm methods are needed, and
the sooner they are put into effect the
sooner will the price of food products
cease to fly upward; yet the people should
not expect the old standard of prices to
be reinstated. Those prices belonged to a
period of virgin resources wastefully and
recklessly used. Now we have arrived
at a time when we must conserve, build,
grow things; and such a condition in-
volves costs unknown to our fathers.
THE NESTOR OF EXPLOITATION
By R. E. NORTON
WHERE is there an advertising man
who has had anything to do with ad-
vertising on a large scale who has not been
impressed by the original, earnest, practical
individuality of Thomas Balmer, who has
dug the holes, set up the posts and strung the
wires that have brought the whole advertising
and purchasing world
into communication?
For nine years Mr.
Balmer was advertis-
ing manager of the
Ladies' Home Jour-
nal, in Chicago, where
he was the herald of
many important busi-
ness events.
Later he became
advertising manager
of the Butterick Trio,
but, while always an
enthusiastic advocate
of whatever line he
represented, his rela-
tion to magazine ad-
vertising or general
publicity has been
that of a scientific ex-
pert. He has always
been able to present
the best side of any
particular medium or
form of advertising,
studying every feature
of each proposition
and grasping both its
advantages and weak
points— as a skilful captain sails his ship, mak-
ing the most of her best points of sailing, and
not relying wholly on his dead reckoning, but
making daily observations to correct and
keep the true course.
Many hundreds of young men, now suc-
cessful advertising solicitors, date their first
inspiration to the wise counsel of Thomas
Balmer. His retirement from active business
has lately called up many such reminiscences
THOMAS BALMER
and evoked much enthusiasm concerning his
splendid services. Mr. Balmer has always
insisted that hard commonsense, and not
chance, produce success in advertising, and,
while pointing out ways in which many ad-
vertising men and firms have lost money by
injudicious exploitation, holds that business
men today 'realize
more fully than ever
the immense value
of properly informing
the public concerning
their wares.
But that informa-
tion has to be given
in the right way, as
Mr. Balmer says:
''See that you are
not the bulldog that
is hanging on with
his teeth to a bar of
steel, rather than the
dog that has his teeth
sunk in the beef-
steak.'
Mr. Balmer re-
gards the advertiser
from a psychological
standpoint, and be-
lieves that the most
impressive advertising
is that which conveys
a positive mandate —
"have you not seen"
is much less forceful
than "go and see."
He does not approve
of advertisers "squinting," but insists that to
secure success the truth must be boldly told,
and there should also be a readiness to shoul-
der all [responsibility regarding the goods.
Mr. Balmer says that salesmen are doing even
more than the clergy in the campaign for
honesty and truthtelling
He also maintains that -the higher and
better ideals of government are aided by the
higher standard that advertising is attaining.
(377)
378
THE NESTOR OF EXPLOITATION
Young men who are prominent in the bold
and aggressive exploitation of modern ad-
vertising, and discarding tyranny of old con-
ventional ideas and customs, are not only
adopting the methods of Thomas Balmer,
but his ideas, and working out an ever-im-
proving science of publicity.
Many an aggressive campaign has been
conducted by Mr. Balmer, to advance the
cause of advertising. I recall that once he
gathered together his entire force of solicitors
in New York and the West and put them into
New England for a week to call on the New
England manufacturers and wound up by a
big dinner in Boston, creating an unwonted
interest among the textile manufacturers
which soon bore fruit and could not have
been secured in any other way. Textile ad-
vertising as at present conducted may be
said to have commenced with that campaign.
He had previously made a similar campaign
in Philadelphia, where he concentrated his
entire soliciting force on the 700 manufacturers
in Philadelphia and neighborhood, and very
largely increased the volume of business com-
ing from Philadelphia to the Butterick Trio.
Mr. Balmer's arrangement united the solicit-
ing force of a large number of magazines to
develop advertising in the city of Cleveland,
and later led a similar campaign in co-
operation with the solicitors of other maga-
zines in the city of Detroit, just as a body
of evangelists might plan to sweep down upon
a town and get to work in the churches.
Mr. Balmer has been truly an apostle of hon-
esty in advertising and has done much to
raise the standards of this class of literature
throughout the world.
A man of cheerful disposition and pleasant
address, he has not ignored the social side
of advertising, and has been called the grand-
father of all the exploitation clubs of America.
He initiated the Agate Club in Chicago.
In later years Mr. Balmer has been promi-
nently identified with street railroad adver-
tising, and has given this phase of publicity
such impetus that it would be hard to find a
car going to and from the cities that has not
some evidence of his personality. This now
firmly established medium of publicity is
singularly effective in scattering advertising
bacteria all over the country, spreading them
even more rapidly than measles and whooping
cough microbes. Just as foreseen by Mr.
Balmer, "what we saw on the cars" is carried
by travelers all over the world.
If advertising were regarded as the science
it truly is, and had become a part of the uni-
versity curriculum, no lecturer on a chosen
subject could command more widespread
attention than Mr. Thomas Balmer on his
line of work. What Charles W. Eliot is to
university education today he is to exploita-
tion. Whether all his ideas are accepted or
not, there is but one opinion as to Thomas
Balmer's splendid achievements and up-
lifting influence in advertising. He may
well retire from actual work with the con-
sciousness that his past effort is crystalizing
into a mighty force, for every year sees rapid
advance along the lines initiated by Mr.
Balmer years ago. He remains a counsellor
and leader, an adept in the art of producing
results, who is admitted to have done more
than any other American to advance methods
that have become peculiarly associated with
the United States, and whose efficiency is
admitted all over the world.
TRUTH, THE INVINCIBLE
From the book "Heart Throbs."
Truth crushed to earth will rise again, —
The eternal years of God are hers;
But Error, wounded, writhes in pain,
And dies among his worshippers.
— Bryant.
INCOME IAX
ILL
Senator WTS- E - Borah !
of IDAHO
IN ORDER that the people of
the United States should be
fairly taxed — that is, burdened
only with their fair share of the
enormous amounts levied upon them by
civic, state and national taxation, I advo-
cated an income tax which should reach
the wealthy, whose personal and family
expenditure can never subject them to
such relative taxation as falls through the
tariff and real estate assessments on the
men of moderate income and family re-
sponsibilities. In order that a part of
them at least should understand why my
associates and myself ignored mere party
considerations in our action in Congress,
at the suggestion of the editor of the
NATIONAL I have given herewith a sum-
mary of ideas and argument advanced
in an address on the subject.
Those who are members of the majority
in the Senate and who are advocating an
income tax do not concede that they are
outside of party lines or that they are
advocating policies or principles which
are new or radical. We believe we are
advocating policies and principles that
are well accepted as a part of the faith
to which we subscribe, and that we are
advocating principles as old as the revenue
laws of the United States. We advocate
an income tax not as a temporary measure
for the purpose of securing revenue for
temporary purposes, but because we be-
lieve it should be a permanent part and
portion of our revenue system.
I have reread within the last few weeks
the cultured and faithful biography of
John Sherman. Although read with that
object in view, I did not find that that great
leader in his day was given .to radicalism,
socialism, or that he was often swung from
his moorings as a conservative statesman.
He was one of the steadfast and sturdy
councilors of this country in a very trying
hour. Long after the war had closed and
after we had had the experience of an
income tax for some several years, after
we had known its benefits and its defects,
its failures and its virtues, and after the
necessity of maintaining it as a war tax
had passed, this distinguished leader of
his party, in 1871, said:
WHAT JOHN SHERMAN SAID
They have declared it to be invidious.
Well, sir, all taxes are invidious. They say
it is inquisitorial. Well, sir, there never
was a tax in the world that was not inquisi-
torial; the least inquisitorial of all is the
income tax. . . . There never was so just a
tax levied as the income tax. There is no
objection that can be urged against the in-
come tax that I cannot point to in every
tax. . . . Writers on political economy as
well as our own sentiments of what is just
and right teach us that a man ought to pay
taxes according to his income. . . . The in-
come tax is the cheapest tax levied except one.
Referring at that time to the bank tax.
Again he said:
It is the only tax levied in the United
States that falls upon property or office or
on brains that yield property, and in this
respect is distinguished from all other taxes
(379)
380
CONCERNING THE INCOMb TAX BILL
SENATOR WILLIAM EDGAR BORAH OF IDAHO
levied by the United States, all of which
are levied upon consumption, the consump-
tion of the rich and the poor, the old and the
young.
WHAT PRESIDENT HARRISON SAID
I would also call attention to a later
Republican leader. While he was not at
the time specifically discussing the income
tax, he was discussing the basic principles
upon which that tax is based, and that is
the obligation of property and wealth to
the Government, which pro-
tects property and wealth.
This is the language of Mr.
Harrison, after he had retired
from the presidency :
We live in a time of great
agitation, of a war of clashing
thoughts and interests. There
is a feeling that some men are
handicapped; that the race is
sold; that the old and much
vaunted equality of opportunity
and of right has been submerged.
More bitter and threatening
things are being said and written
against accumulated property
and corporate power than ever
before. It is said that, more and
more, small men, small stores,
and small factories are being
thrown upon the shore as finan-
cial drift; that the pursuit of
cheapness has reached a stage
where only enormous combi-
nations of capital, doing an
enormous business, are sure of
returns.
Again he says:
The great middle class of our
people has never failed to re-
spond to the fire alarm, though
they have only small properties
at risk, and these not immedi-
ately threatened. But there is
danger that they will lose their
zeal as firemen if those in whose
apartments the fire has been
kindled do not pay their propor-
tionate share of the cost of the
fire department.
* * *
WHAT ALEXANDER HAMILTON
BELIEVED
I am one of those who look
upon Alexander Hamilton, all
things considered, as the great-
est intellectual force that
ever dealt with the science of
government.
There was in all that he did that fasci-
nating air of mysterious power, that in-
describable force which moved with tri-
umphant ease to its immeasurable pur-
pose. His career was the most sudden,
the most startling, the most brilliant, and
the most masterly of all of his compatriots.
And he was never greater, never more of
a statesman and a patriot, than when he
advocated the policy as a part of his
general-revenue policy of laying a portion
CONCERNING THE INCOME TAX BILL
381
of the burdens of government upon prop-
erty and upon wealth, along with con-
sumption. He was charged in his day with
being the special advocate of property and
of property interests and of wealth, the
mini on. of power, the advocate of royalty.
He was in favor of a government strong
enough and stable enough to protect the
vested rights and the gathered fortunes
of men against the passions and the
prejudices of a day, but he did not belong
to that shortsighted class of statesmen
who, believing in protecting property and
property interests, believe also in relieving
property and wealth from its corresponding
obligation to government. You will search
in vain through the works of Alexander
Hamilton to find any help or any argu-
ment which would enable you to relieve
property and wealth from the obligation
of meeting a portion of the burdens of
government.
WHAT ABRAHAM LINCOLN DID
The first " income tax," so called, bore
the name of Abraham Lincoln, and was
supported by the great men who sur-
rounded him upon that occasion.
I am not willing for one to concede that
the policy which fixes the burdens of
government upon property and wealth is
not a Republican principle. I am not
willing to concede, above all things, that
there has been engrafted upon our
constitutional power that which is an
absolute exemption of property and wealth
from the burdens of government. I am
not willing to have it admitted that the
constitution, as made and framed by the
fathers, was such as to exempt the great
property interests of this country from the
taxing power of the government even in
the hour when the very exigencies of
government may involve the life of the
government itself.
* * *
I favor an income tax not for the pur-
pose of putting all the burdens of govern-
ment upon property or all the burdens of
government upon wealth, but that it may
bear its just and fair proportions of the
burdens of this government.
We believe that every tax system based
upon consumption should be supplemented
by a system which taxes property and the
wealth of the country; not for the pur-
pose of inciting class feeling, but simply
calling upon the great interests of the
nation to share that part of the burden of
government for which they receive an
unquestioned benefit.
NEEDED TO PROMOTE ECONOMY
But I advocate it for another reason —
and this will seem strange, I have no
doubt, to some — and that is as a teacher
of economy in public expenditures.. For
more than a hundred years we have been
making speeches in favor of retrenchment
and curtailing public expenditures, and
as consistently and persistently voted the
other way. It is a notorious fact in our
political history that the Congresses at
which the voice of retrenchment has been
the loudest have been followed invariably
by Congresses in which the appropriation
was largest.
We knew when we met here last fall
that we were facing a deficit. We knew
that there was the cry going up all over
the country that there should be a revision
of the tariff downward, and we knew that
in the midst of universal peace and of
prosperity we were actually contemplating
putting a tax upon the necessaries of life
which we do not produce in this country.
If there was ever a time in the world
when the voice of retrenchment should
have been heard and heeded, it was at
the beginning of that Congress; and yet
we are told by the leader on the Repub-
lican side that Congress appropriated
$50,000,000 which we could just as well
have left in the treasury and without
embarrassing the government one particle.
If that be true, what a fearful indictment
of this Congress, and how futile it makes
all the promises with reference to retrench-
ment.
Our Secretary of the Navy tells us that
we must have another navy as large as
the one we have. This sounds to me like
discord. He must have spoken with au-
thority. I am not to discuss the question
of the necessity of these ships; that is for
another day; but I do say that if we are
to build new ships and to continue to com-
pete with the naval building of the world
that expense should be visited to some
382
CONCERNING THE INCOME TAX BILL
extent at least upon the property and the
wealth of this nation.
If this is the part of retrenchment, if
these expenses are to be met, can anyone
contend that we should continue to im-
pose that burden upon consumption? It
may be necessary to continue to build
these ships. It may be necessary to go
on until we will be able to overawe the
nations of the earth, and until, like the
father of Frederick the Great, we are
lonesome without the music of the sentry's
tread. But if it be true that we must con-
tinue to do so, upon what basis and upon
what theory can men say that the whole
burden should rest upon the men who
pay practically as much when worth $500
as the man who is worth $500,000,000?
Take a part of the burdens off the backs
and appetites of men and put it upon the
purses of those who will never miss it,
those who enjoy the pomp and circum-
stances of glorious war — without the war.
LESSON OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION
To illustrate further, our system of
taxation had its origin in the period of
feudalism, when the tax was laid upon
those, and those only, who could not
resist the payment of it.
The plan then was earnestly argued in
those days — that it was a proper dis-
tribution of the burdens of government
that the clergy should pray for the govern-
ment, the nobles fight for it, and the com-
mon people should pay the taxes. The
first fruits of that system, and the first
modification of that system, were had
during that economic and moral convul-
sion which shook the moral universe from
center to circumference — the French Revo-
lution. Historians dispute today as to the
cause of the French Revolution. If you
would know the cause, you will not find
it in the days transpiring with the fall
of the Bastile; you will not find it in the
days when Robespierre, drunk with human
blood, leaned against the pillars of the
assembly, as he listened to his own doom.
It is back of that. It is in those immediate
years preceding, when the burden of
government had become intolerable, when
the stipends paid to the miserable satellites
of royalty had become criminal; when
bureaucracy reached out into every part
of the nation and bore down upon the
energies and the industries of the common
man; and when eighty-five per cent of
that fearful burden was collected from the
peasantry of France, which forced them
from their little homes and farms into
the sinks and dives of Paris, where the
French Revolution was born.
The history of taxation is well worthy
of the attention of those who believe that,
in order to maintain a republic, we must
alwaysr have at the base of our civilization
an intelligent, free, and, to some extent, an
unburdened citizenship. No, we will not
repeal all taxes; but we will distribute the
burdens; though we may not do it this
session, and I do not suppose we will, we
will do it before this fight is over.
THE INCOME TAX NOT SOCIALISTIC
But it is said to be socialistic. The
great and honored lawyer, Joseph Choate,
the pride of two hemispheres, hard pressed
for legal arguments against the tax in the
Pollock case, turned and denounced the
tax as socialistic — socialistic to lay a fair
tax upon wealth, to sustain and keep in
operation a great constitutional govern-
ment. When the State or the government
sees fit to lay a tax which may take thirty
per cent of the income, the fruits of the
labor, of the man of ordinary means, that
is the exercise of constitutional power.
But when you lay a tax of two per cent
upon incomes, so slight a burden that it
would scarcely be felt, that is socialism.
Man's intelligence should not be so uni-
versally discredited. But he says if you
can lay a tax of two per cent you may lay
a tax of fifty or one hundred per cent.
Who will lay the tax of fifty or one hundred
per cent? Whose equity, sense of fairness,
of justice, of patriotism does he question?
Why, the representatives of the American
people; not only that, but the intelli-
gence, the fairness, the justice of the
people themselves, to whom their repre-
sentatives are always answerable. There
is not a constitutional power but in its
last analysis rests for its fair and equitable
enforcement upon the sense of fairness and
of justice of the people. Especially is that
true of the taxing power, a power that has
A FRAGMENT
383
been used more than once confessedly for
the purpose of taxing a business institu-
tion out of existence as in the case of the
state banks. All the powers of this govern-
ment in the last and final analysis in the
matter of their abuse or non-abuse rest
upon the intelligence and the fairness of
the people as a whole, and you can safely
rest the power to impose this tax with
them also, provided you do not dam up
the even flow of the stream of equity until
it shall burst forth in an uncontrollable
torrent of wrath.
I neither envy nor feel ill toward the
man of wealth. Moreover, I believe
strongly that a government which does
not protect property and the gathered
fortunes of men when honestly gathered
will not long protect either the liberty or
the life of the humble citizen. I have
never hesitated when property rights were
attacked and wealth as such challenged
in the name of riot and crime, to help hunt
down those who thus sow the seeds of
lawlessness in a government of law. I
know that when our constitutional safe-
guards are torn away, when the law be-
comes the plaything of individual men,
.that in that fearful struggle the first man
to go to the bottom will be the common
man, the toiler, and the producer. If
there is any man in the world who is
interested in maintaining this government
just as it was made, protecting as it does
so carefully the rights of individuals, rich
or poor, maintaining laws, and protecting
rights under the law, it is the common
citizen in the common walks of life. The
ordinary man, the great toiling millions,
have prospered and been made happy just
in proportion as government has become
a government of law, and in the main just
in proportion as laws have been enacted
and enforced, just in proportion as estab-
lished law and order have taken the place
of the caprice and ambition of individuals
or the passion and hatred of mobs. We
all understand this, and the people under-
stand it. There is no place in this country
today where there is such a deep-seated
reverence for the government, such a pro-
found regard for the law and all men's
just rights under the law as down among
those who constitute the great body of
our citizenship, the small banker, the
small merchant, the small farmer, and the
toiler. The crimes of the century, the
contempt for law, and the disregard for
the Constitution, the disrespect for our
government so prevalent, are found among
the great and- powerful — they are the
ones who are sowing seeds of lawlessness.
Let them return and take their place
inside the plain provisions of the Consti-
tution and under the laws of the land
before they talk of socialism and of the
decay of the Republic.
.1 do not believe that the great framers
of the Constitution, the men who were
framing a government for the people, of
the people, and by the people, intended
that all the taxes of this government should
be placed upon the backs of those who toil,
upon consumption, while the accumulated
wealth of the nation should stand exempt,
even in an exigency which might involve
the very life of the nation itself. This
cannot be true; it was never so intended;
it was a republic they were building, where
all men were to be equal and bear equally
the burdens of government, and not an oli-
garchy, for that must a government be,
in the end, which exempts property and
wealth from all taxes.
A FRAGMENT
WHOSO has ever loved has known of these;
The tempest, and the plunge in straining seas;
The hymns of peace; the incense of the heart
Arising in the morn, when only two
Are gathered in the quiet of a wood;
The blending of the evil with the good;
The sinking of the old within the new;
The playing of a long and untried part.
— Henry Dumont, in "A Golden Fancy."
n r
u
sc
was a subdued hum of
preparation as Wyndham en-
tered the operating room. Doc-
tors qame in briskly, asked a
question or two about the wreck, and went
about their duties; nurses prepared tables
and sterilized instruments; and all was
in readiness when the wide doors noise-
lessly slid back to admit the stretchers
with their ghastly burdens.
Whitney, the head surgeon, beckoned
Wyndham and, together, they took from
the foremost the cruelly mangled body of
a girl and laid it on a waiting table.
"Pretty little thing, isn't she?" Whitney
said when they had worked over her in
silence for some time, giving an inquiring
twist to a suspiciously limber arm.
Wyndham painfully straightened his
tired body and glanced indifferently at
the face of the girl. He had never seen
her before, but there was something about
the sweet, unconscious face that attracted
him strangely; and his casual glance
became so prolonged and intent that
Whitney had twice spoken before he roused
himself, not without effort, and set about
cutting off a small, torn shoe that stained
his hands unpleasantly in the process.
"No use," Whitney said at length,
abruptly. "We're only wasting time."
Wyndham stared at him stupidly.
"Wasting time?" he repeated. "But,
you see, I — why, we can't let her die,
Whitney," he said, his haggard face
growing anxious and troubled.
"Guess we haven't much to say about
it," the other returned carelessly.
"But — oh, don't you understand?"
Wyndham cried desperately. "We've got
to save her!"
Whitney looked at him curiously, then
shook his head.
"Can't do it," he said tersely. "She'll
never regain consciousness."
Wyndham groaned.
"Brace up, boy," the older man said
kindly, laying his hand soothingly on
Wyndham 's arm; "you're half crazed for
want of sleep. Come, help me patch
up the rest, and then I'll promise not to
call you for a day or two."
"Not to the emergency ward; take her
to the Sargent room," Wyndham said
in a low tone to the waiting nurse; then,
with a long look that he realized with
sickening impotence might be his last,
he stumbled after the head surgeon.
Others, fresher and stronger than he,
went down under the strain and horror
of that awful day; but he continued
doggedly, doing his work surely, if me-
chanically, for ever before his tired eyes
was the sweet, serene face of the uncon-
scious girl. It mercifully intervened be-
tween him and the horribly distorted face
of the dying engineer; between him and
the hard, brazen features of a woman who
shrieked and blasphemed till the ether
cone came as a welcome extinguisher.
Did she live? he wondered dully; or,
when he escaped from the shambles,
would he find the pretty room empty —
awaiting another occupant? Were they
watching beside her, doing all he would
have them do for her; or, with the hospital
(384)
One hand was free — both, and his panting adversary was beside him on the ground.
(See "The Unrolling of the Scroll." page 384.)
DEPARTMENT OF PROGRESSIVE* ADVERTISERS
THE sheer dynamic force of the intrin-
sic value of the goods themselves is
what sells and increases the sale of
(Reg. U. S. Pat. Oft.)
by the thousands and hundreds of thousands
of garments each succeeding year.
Their wearers know what underwear com-
fort means. Do you?
At all good stores.
Made in Massachusetts (not in sweat shops)
THE WILLIAM CARTER COMPANY
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THE UNROLLING OF THE SCROLL
385
taxed as it was to the utmost by fire and
wreck, would she receive only the necessary
attention? He set his teeth and worked
on feverishly.
"Go to bed, Wyn," Whitney said per-
emptorily late that night when the last
victim had been trundled away and he
had time to notice his friend; "and don't
you let me see you out of it for twenty-
four hours."
Wyndham hastily flung off his stained
gown and hurried to the Sargent room.
An overtaxed nurse was arranging things
for the night, and it was not till he had
dismissed her for an hour's much needed
rest that he turned to the bed.
She had not changed greatly, he de-
cided, taking one slender, inert hand in
his; only the shadows beneath the long
lashes that lay on her cheeks were a little
deeper, the lengthening and relaxing of
the short, full upper lip more pronounced.
Had it not been for her pallor a casual
observer would have thought her asleep.
How exquisitely beautiful she was!
How softly the dark, silky hair framed her
flower-like face, little babyish curls and
tendrils clinging lovingly to the waxen
brow and smooth, rounded cheeks.
He found the scarcely perceptible pulse,
and realized that Whitney was right;
the end was very near. He hoped that
someone — her mother, maybe — was wait-
ing for her. It would not be so hard to
let her go if he knew that loving hands
were outstretched to greet her; though
it suddenly came to him with over-
whelming certainty that life would never
be just the same to him again; that, in
some inexplicable way, this unconscious
girl had entered it and, in leaving, would
take with her all the joy and zest of living.
Must he let her go without a word,
without a glance from those dear eyes?
Oh, he couldn't bear it! He must try-
Bending above her, his feverish hands
u pon either shoulder, his wild, bloodshot
eyes fixed despairingly on her calm face, he
concentrated all his waning faculties upon
her. "Do you hear me?" he whispered
tensely. "Do you hear me? Oh, my God,
don't go this way? One word — one look!"
Was it imagination, or did the long
lashes flutter slightly, the faint smile
about the sweet mouth deepen?
"Don't go! Don't leave me!" he begged,
kneeling down beside her, his lips to the
little half hidden ear. "I love you, dear,
and life without you — oh, don't you
understand — now that I have found you — "
He sprang up, his hands locked in his hair.
"You shall not go! No one shall take
you!" he raved. "Not your mother; not
even Almighty God!"
He brought himself up abruptly. Was
this delirium or insanity? With a mighty
effort he calmed himself, leaned down
with his lips to her ear and said con-
fidently, a ring of exultation in his voice:
"You shall not go! Do you hear? You
shall not go!" Again the waxen lids flut-
tered ever so slightly.
O God! there was some way to save
her, he thought wildly. He'd call Whitney.
He'd call the nurse. There was oxygen —
electricity —
His uncertain feet tripped on his over-
turned chair, he staggered — recovered
himself — and fell heavily, the polished
andirons receiving his tired head.
* * *
The day was done. The sun had sunk
behind the Hindu Kush mountains, but
the reflection from the snowy peaks still
flooded a narrow valley with a rosy light.
Here, in the rock-ribbed cradle of the
human race, a group of stalwart men,
resting from the toil of the day, lay
sprawled on the grass. There was laughter
and jests among the younger ones, serious
converse among the older, and all seemed
content, save one, the youngest, who lay
apart, his shapely hands locked beneath
his blonde head, his eyes, moody and
sullen, fixed on the changing sky.
Deeper and deeper grew the shadows,
and the rosy light faded slowly as though
loth to leave the valley to the encroach-
ing night. One by one the sounds ceased
till, save for the occasional cry of some
wild animal in the forest above, the valley
was still.
Suddenly the eldest of the group broke
off in the midst of a sentence and rose
hastily to his feet, standing with reverently
bowed head and folded hands. The
others, looking in surprise for the cause,
saw a tall, patriarchal old man issuing
from a nearby tent; and, rising quickly,
they stood by their brother.
386
THE UNROLLING OF THE SCROLL
"My sons," the old man said, extending
his palsied hands in benediction, "my
sons, there is something of which I wish
to speak. Come close, for talking wearies
me and I have much to say."
The eldest, whose hair was already
silvered, brought a sheepskin from the
tent and made a seat for him against a
convenient tree; another brought a gourd
of cool water from the goatskin suspended
near; while the youngest, banishing the
gloom from his face, carefully drew the
cloak about his father's shoulders. Then
the old man spoke, his voice gathering
strength as he progressed.
"It seems but yesterday," he said,
laying his hand affectionately on the head
of one of his sons, "that my hair was as
dark as his and you were little, helpless
children about my knees; but you are
grown now, most of you have children
of your own; but the valley has not
widened to your needs, neither have the
mountains crowded back to give you
room. There is no longer pasture on which
to graze your flocks, nor soil to till for
your sustenance."
The faces of the men grew grave and
anxious, and they nodded in corroboration
though, at his next words, they lifted
their bowed heads, and interest, if not
hope, replaced the gloom.
"A trader — he who rested with us three
nights gone — tells me that there is much
land to the westward; pastures for a
thousand herds, and fields for grain that
stretch onward to the setting sun. Thither
you must go; you and your wives, and
your flocks, and all your possessions. I
have done."
His head sank wearily on his breast
and his eyes, dim and unseeing, were
fixed on the ground at his feet. There
was silence for a time; then the eldest
asked: "And you, father, you will journey
with us to that far land?"
The old man roused himself with an
effort. "No," he returned, "I am very old.
I have but one more journey to make and
on that one I must go alone. I will abide
here with your sisters until that time."
During the ensuing days there was
much bustle and excitement in the little
valley; much mending of tents and trap-
pings; much gathering and preparation
of food. All were eager and hopeful,
except Nathan, the youngest, who per-
formed his tasks mechanically, or wan-
dered gloomily apart.
In the early morning hours of the day
of their departure he climbed far up the
mountain; and, standing on a rocky spur,
looked out upon the land of his birth.
Far below him he saw the assembling of
the herds and the long train of laden
donkeys slowly filing out through the
pass. He had seen them many times
before; little bands of the young and
adventurous, tired of the narrow confines
of the valley, starting out into the great
unknown ; always to the westward ; always,
never to return. He, like the others,
would never see it again ; never look upon
the kindly face of his father; never see
his sisters — or Miriam again.
He dropped down on the rock and buried
his face in his hands, groaning aloud.
Where was Miriam? She had disappeared
a short time after his father had bade
them go; and though they had searched
diligently for her, especially he and her
betrothed, they had found no trace of her.
Could it be that she loved him, even as
he loved her; and that grief at parting
had driven her to the lake as it sometimes
had other maidens of the tribe? It were
better so, he thought fiercely. He would
rather see her dead than given to brutish
old Ahmed, who would break her young
spirit, and to whom she would be but a
slave. But he must go. One last look
about him, and then —
He rose to his feet, and his eyes fell
to a ledge a few feet below him. With a
despairing cry he plunged recklessly down.
Miriam was lying on the narrow ledge ;
dead, he believed at sight of her ashen
face. Kneeling beside her he took the
slender, inert hand in his and gazed long
and wistfully on each loved feature. How
beautiful she was! How soft and abundant
the dark hair that framed her exquisite
face!
He was glad that she was dead — out
of the reach of old Ahmed. But, as he
bent over her, convulsed with grief, the
dark eyes suddenly opened and the pale
lips parted in a contented smile. They
still smiled, inscrutably, when, after a
parting that to him was worse than death,
THE UNROLLING OF THE SCROLL
387
he stumbled down the mountain after
the departing caravan.
He understood the smile when, late
that night, being unable to sleep, he
wandered back over the way they had come,
and she called to him from the thorn
thicket in which she was hidden.
"I could not stay behind," she told him
wistfully. "I would rather die than go
to Ahmed. But you are sad; you are not
glad I followed?"
Glad? His eyes answered the question;
but he said gravely:
"You know the laws of the tribe,
Miriam? If they discover you, it means
death to both of us."
"Yes," she said calmly. "But they shall
not find me; and when we reach the land
of which your father spoke we will search
out a little valley among the hills, far from
the others, where I can abide near you."
As the days passed it seemed as though
her wish might be granted. Seated on
the donkey he had given her, her few
wants abundantly supplied, and watched
over by the man she loved, she followed
ever just so far behind, protected from
wild beasts and still wilder marauding
bands by the close proximity of the caravan.
Nathan's brothers had grown accus-
tomed to his love of solitude, and he was
allowed to range at will; sometimes
before, but most often behind them, for
his was the keenest eye and the surest
hand. Thus he found it possible to journey
many delightful hours at her side, and to
sit beside her during the long nights while
she slept, her pretty head upon his knees.
He had thought he loved her when he
used to see her among the other maidens
in the valley; that no love nor no despair
could have been so great as his when she
had been given to Ahmed, or when he
had bidden her good-bye on the mountain;
but, these nights, as he watched over her
in the wilderness and felt the trustful,
clinging touch of her little hands and
heard her soft breathing, he felt a fierce,
mad passion; a wild, delirious joy of
possession beside which his former love
of her seemed but a boyish affection.
Why, now, he would take her life with
his own hand rather than give her up to
Ahmed, should he follow them. But
what about that other menace that was
ever on their track; that shadowy some-
thing that took the old and young alike?
Would he ever forget that awful night
when it had come so near her? Their
journey had been still young when he
had ridden back one night to find her
parched and burning with thirst, her soft
eyes wild and hunted, with no knowledge
of him in their depths. A terrible fear
had clutched at his heart. Was he about
to lose her, after all? At least he would
go with her into the great silence. But
the herbs and roots — of which he had
unusual knowledge — had driven off the
shadow; and, soon, she was her merry,
happy self again. Was ever man so
blest? he often wondered, his heart
aching with a vague, yearning pain.
It was nearly sunset one night when he
started on the backward trail. The cara-
van was traveling slowly, drifting hither
and yon like a flock of weary birds seeking
a place to rest. They had reached the land
of which the trader had told them; and,
even now, the tired herds were feeding upon
the grassy plains and drinking at the many
streams that flowed through them.
"I am going back," Nathan had told
his eldest brother, who had already
pitched his tents, though some of the
younger ones were still pushing on toward
the great river Oxus. "While following
a drove of strange beasts three days ago,
I came upon the land I wish for mine."
"Can you not abide among us, Nathan?"
his brother asked. "At least, until you
have taken a wife. It is not well for man
to dwell alone in the wilderness."
But he had pretended dissatisfaction
with all but the land of his choice; and,
taking his few possessions, was even
now approaching the wooded hillside where
he had bade Miriam wait for him. To-
morrow they would start southward;
and, when they were far away from the
tribe, they would pitch their sheepskin
tent, plant the grain he had so carefully
guarded, and life together would begin.
He would be there very soon now, he
thought exultantly. He would see the
flash of her bright eyes as she peeped at
him from some thicket, and hear her
happy laughter when he pretended that
he could not find her.
He left the herd behind, peacefully
grazing, and stole silently forward. There
she was now, creeping stealthily from tree
388
THE UNROLLING OF THE SCROLL
to tree. Why this caution? Had she seen
him? Was this some new game?
At that instant the stooping figure
stood upright, and the heart of the watcher
contracted with fear. It was not Miriam,
but Ahmed, huge, grim and terrible; and
he was evidently watching the unconscious
girl, for his eyes gleamed with fury.
Nathan crept warily through the dense
underbrush till a pebble, dislodged from
above, caused him to raise his eyes.
There, crouched in a narrow fissure among
the rocks, was a score of hideous savages.
They had seen neither him nor Ahmed,
but were looking and pointing gloatingly
at something just out of his range of
vision. A step more, and he saw Miriam
sitting in a little open glade, busily weav-
ing from a pile of rushes at her feet.
Never had she seemed so dear or so fair
to him as she did this minute that was to
be her last; for, already, his flint-tipped
spear was poised for flight.
She was clad in the tunic of white fur
they had finished the night before, and
there were crimson flowers at her throat
and in her dusky hair. She was singing
happily to herself, but ceased as she held
up her work and eyed it critically, a smile
upon her lips. Only for one agonized,
breathless instant did he see her thus;
then, with a snarl, Ahmed sprang toward
her, one great hairy hand outstretched;
and the savages hurled themselves from
their hiding place upon both.
"Miriam, Miriam!" screamed Nathan,
and would have sent the spear on its
mission of mercy had not strong hands
seized him and borne him down. He
struggled fiercely, though handicapped by
a strange, numbing weakness. There!
One hand was free — both, and his panting
adversary was beside him on the ground.
He got heavily to his feet, eluding the
detaining hands. Where was she? All
had vanished save the man who was
babbling in an unknown tongue, and
another that he took to be a woman.
He called again, despairingly, and
heard a faint, answering cry. But what
was this? Walls had suddenly risen to
encompass him; bright lights that could
not possibly be stars were twinkling over
his head; and there were strange things
in his way that were neither rocks nor
trees. Stumbling toward the opening
from whence her answering cry had come,
he saw her lying on a narrow bed, while
before it another woman, strangely garbed,
disputed his way. He brushed her aside
and flung himself upon the girl.
"Nathan, did you see?" she breathed,
her eyes wide with terror. "O Nathan!
Ahmed — and the wild men — " !
"They are gone, dearest. We are safe,"
he assured her, stroking her hair and
kissing the hand that frantically clutched
his coat. He felt safe and secure, for he
had suddenly become aware of Whitney's
presence; and Ahmed and the wild men
could "go hang" for all of him.
"You were gone so long," the girl com-
plained, stroking his cheek with a trem-
bling hand. "And I was so lonely."
"I know," he said pityingly. "But I
have brought the herd, dearest, and I'll not
leave you again. As soon as you are better"
— he became aware of her bandaged arm
and shoulder — "we will travel southward
to the fair land we saw that day, and —
"And we'll pitch our tent beneath the
great tree to which the grape-vine clings?"
she asked delightedly. He nodded. "And
Ahmed and the wild men will never find us
there?" she continued happily.
His eyes met Whitney's and he chuckled.
"Well, I guess not," he said confidently.
"Why, they wouldn't last two minutes
inside the city limits, would they, Whit?"
The girl's eyes followed his glance and
saw a man standing puzzled and uncer-
tain at the foot of the bed. They wandered
on to the white-capped nurse; to the white
walls of the room; to her bandaged arm;
and then to the face bending above her.
"I don't — don't understand, Nathan,"
she faltered weakly.
There was silence for some time. The
doctor and the nurse exchanged glances,
but did not speak; and the face of the
kneeling man was a study. Once he put a
tentative hand to his bandaged head and
glanced accusingly toward the fireplace;
once he half rose to his feet as an ambulance
clanged up to the entrance; but, at
length, with a little shrug as though the
problem was too much for him, his gaze
again rested on the girl. Their eyes met;
his adoring, hers trustful and very tender.
"Neither do I understand," he returned
cheerfully. "At least, only this part of it."
And, stooping, he kissed her on the lips.
A Plea for
CLEMENCY
t>y Florence Miriam Gtiapin
IT is almost four o'clock, Robert."
The man at the desk, intent
on his work, did not look
but responded absently: "I
have almost finished."
His wife resumed her book, and for a
time the only sounds that broke the still-
ness were the ticking of the clock, the
scratching of a pen or the turning of a
page, and, from without, the soft thud
of falling snow as small drifts melted and
slid from the gambrel roof.
But the woman grew uneasy and at
length spoke again. "Come, Robert, you
are over-doing."
This time he made no answer and,
crossing the room, she seated herself on
the arm of his chair. "It is late," she
urged, arresting his pen. "You must not
work any more today."
"But I'm not tired, dear — do let me
finish it."
"Is there much more? Won't tomorrow
do?" Her hands were on the papers
ready to gather them up.
. He drew the manuscript from her gently
and imprisoned her hands. "It's all right,
Diana, I'm not tired, really, and if I put
this thing off it may never be finished."
She still seemed dissatisfied, and he added
slowly: "Let me work at it now while I
may. I've tried so many times before and
never felt quite equal to it until today —
and this strength may not last."
"It cannot if you work like this," she
pleaded. "Come, put it up until some
other time."
"I wasn't speaking of physical strength,"
he answered strangely.
"No, no!" as she again tried to take his
writing from him: "Let me work at it
now while I have the courage."
Something in the tenderness of his
voice startled her. "Why, Robert!"
"Well, Diana?"
"Why does it seem so hard — is it such
a dreadful story?"
"Not dreadful — no; yet, in the last
analysis, it is a -soul picture, dear."
"Oh!" she deprecated slowly. "It
sounds shivery — not quite normal."
"It isn't."
"Then don't bother with it, Robert.
It would be a pity, when your work has
always been so splendidly free from that
unhappy key. And I have watched so
closely of late for fear you would strike
it. It seems to be a phase of invalidism."
"Soul analysis," mused the man. "It is
not so dreadful — when you've grown accus-
tomed to the idea. Have you never tried
to fathom a human heart?"
"No!" Her great, dark eyes searched
his face wonderingly.
"Not even mine?"
She shook her head, puzzled, distressed.
"I have no right, except to what you
reveal to me. It belongs to you — and
your God."
"Perhaps — yet nothing is sacred to the
analyst. He knows where, in the shad-
owed chambers of the soul, skeletons in
armor lie deep hidden from the light of
day."
The woman drew away from him and
gained her feet. "Ah, no!" she cried.
"You have no right to tear life's rose like
that — time will deflower it, and lay bare
its heart."
"But," he interposed more gently, "I
am merely recognizing finite limitations."
"Doesn't it come nearer criticism of the
Infinite?" she breathed. "Don't, don't do
that, Robert."
"Little Puritan!" He watched her
gravely for a moment and suddenly caught
her hands. "Try not to set your ideal of
life too high, Diana. There are heights
(389)
390
A PLEA FOR CLEMENCY
that some of us can never hope to reach,
and clemency is our only sanctuary."
"You think me, then, without charity .
to those who — "
"Have you ever had to stand the test?"
he broke in quickly.
She shook her head. "But try me and
see, since you doubt me."
He watched her as she crossed to the
window and rested her arms /against the
lattice. "I may," he ventured, after a little.
"You!" There was wonder, incredulity,
in her voice as she faced him.
His smile grew quizzical. "Am I in-
fallible?"
She did not answer, but pondered his
words slowly, and he waited for her.
"I don't know," she said at last, re-
luctantly. "But that would hardly be a
test. Love cannot judge, Robert."
"How I wish I could believe that,
Diana!" He rose into sudden vehemence,
then checked himself. "But it is the very
opposite of truth. Only when the farthest
depths of our nature are stirred can we
be truly tested."
"Love would swing the balance weight,"
she persisted quietly. "Hurry with your
work — the light is going."
She turned again to the western window
and her eyes, gazing out upon the winter
landscape, swept the frozen lake and lifted
to the snow-capped mountain and the
last radiance of the swiftly setting sun.
It was a cold sky, clear and windless, and
as the flush of sunset faded into dull-
toned gray, Diana shivered and drew
down the shades. The warm room with
its deep rich coloring, the crackling fire,
and the heavy Eastern hangings seemed
more suited to her temperament than the
arctic scene without. Yet in spite of the
barbaric beauty of the room it was a
strangely isolated spot in which to find a
woman of her type. She was like some
rare exotic that, with all its tender nurtur-
ing and transplanting, persistently pro-
claims its foreign birth and custom. In
truth she was an exile, driven into this
waste of snows and silence to escape the
grim shadow with its dark prophecy that
followed her husband's footsteps. No
longer pursued, but entrenched and gar-
risoned, the long siege nearly ended and
victory in sight, her heart welled up in
love and gratitude for this wild battlefield,
yet, forever hidden in her deep dark eyes
brooded the love of home, a longing for
life and the city they had fled from wjth
such blanching faces.
She lighted the lamps, toyed with the
fire for sheer joy of it, and then busied
herself with some sheets of music on the
piano, humming now and then in a low
voice as some old favorite came upper-
most in her hand.
"There!" Robert Garrison laid aside
his pen. "It is done at last."
"Oh! I am so glad. Now you can rest
and — shall I sing?"
"Not now, dear. I want you to read
this first."
She took the manuscript from him, and
as her eyes fell to the page she laughed.
"No title, Robert?"
"It is for you to name, Diana. The
story is yours — for you alone."
Again she laughed. "The king writes
stories to amuse his idle consort. Splen-
did!"
"Read it, and then answer that." Gar-
rison's voice sounded dry and thick, and,
as he turned and went back to throw
himself down in a chair by the fire, his
wife's eyes followed him closely. He
coughed once or twice, and the exertion
brought a faint color to his cheeks, but
after a little he grew quiet and Diana took
up her reading.
The man never moved in the half hour
that followed, but his face grew steadily
ashen and the lines about his moutlj.
sharpened as though with pain.
There was a quick rustle of paper and a
little suppressed sound of emotion as the
wife laid down the manuscript. "Where
is the rest? It isn't all here, Robert."
"That is all there is, Diana."
"All!— but the ending, dear?"
"Is for you to tell."
"I— I fear I do not understand, Robert."
"I mean that it is a true story — and I
know no more than I have written."
"True! There is a man like that?"
They were facing each other now, the
width of the table between them, and
Garrison's voice was strangely calm as he
answered: "Yes, Diana, there is."
The woman seemed to hear the beating
of her heart in the pause that followed.
A PLEA FOR CLEMENCY
391
"Who is he?" came her low whisper.
Again the silence held them with its
awful potencies, and the man's words
seemed drawn from him by the mighty
chain of his will alone, as he slowly an-
swered: "He is standing before you."
Quick and steady came her exonera-
tion. "I do not believe you."
But even as she spoke her face went
gray above the warm crimson of her
gown, and a low cry died on
her white lips, for in the reso-
lute face before her she read
the confirmation of the truth.
"It is the truth— before
God," he avowed simply, and
waited in silence for her
judgment.
But Diana's mind groped
with slow painfulness through
the chaos built of his confes-
sion, and only an inarticulate
"O, why!" answered his ap-
peal. It was long before she
spoke and the man stood the
burning quietly, forcing his
eyes to endure the others mis-
ery even when she sank into
a chair and bowed her head
in her folded arms upon the
table. She made no sound —
her very calmness frightened
him — and even when she raised
her face there was no sign of
turbulent grief about her; all
her anguish seemed to concen-
trate itself in her voice, as she
said at last, "Tell me every-
thing."
"You've read all there is to
tell, Diana, in the story. I
found the book, in manuscript,
among Walter's papers after his death. He,
I doubt not, had forgotten its existence,
and everything was left to me — there was
no one with a stronger claim."
"If you make excuses and give reasons
for your act I shall hate you," Diana
whispered hoarsely.
Garrison felt the whip of scorn in the
low-spoken words, and a flame of color
rose and died in his white face. "I am
not doing that. I want you to have the
facts, no better — no worse — than they
are."
"Could they be worse?" came the stern
accusation. "You robbed the dead!"
"No! my sin was to the living — to you,
my wife." Suddenly he was on his knees
before her, eyes levelled to hers as he
offered her his defence. "Do you remem-
ber," he implored her, "asking me, long
ago, to prove myself worthy of being what
you so often called me — Fortune's Child?
I must bring, you said, a something not
Who is he?'
came her low whisper,
before you"
. "He is standing
made with hands — some territory of the
mind which, by right of conquest, I had
made my own. It was while I was think-
ing of this that Walter's manuscript came
into my possession. I read it at first
curiously and then, seeing the possibili-
ties that it held, set to work to see what I
could make of it. I don't think I had
any definite idea in view even then, but
the thing fascinated me. When the end
came, after weeks and weeks of careful
revision, the thing seemed wholly mine
by right of conquest — even as you had
392
A PLEA FOR CLEMENCY
said. The theft was gradual, Diana — the
actual committing of the deed a triumph,
for the foundling denied its birthright and
betrayed its foster parent."
"And then — and then?" she hurried
him on.
"Nemesis did not leave me long alone,
and if it had not been for your great happi-
ness I would have made the wrong public
at the very first. Again and again I tried
to face you with the truth, only to be met
with some fresh burst of enthusiasm as
soon as the book was mentioned. Your
joy held me fast. I was caught in a net
of my own -weaving. It was then that I
set to work on 'Cecilia.' Is it any wonder
the book has always been your favorite
when every word, every letter in it, was
written to you, for you — a confession and
an expiation? Oh, my dear! believe that
what I lacked was not the power to reveal
my act, but the strength to give you pain.
It has taken me three years to rouse the
courage to crush you so — yet I cannot
live any longer with this miserable shadow
between us."
In the silence that followed the woman
rose from her chair and moved away as
though she dared not trust herself to linger
near him — but her eyes fell before the dark
misery in his.
"And it was all built upon the sands,"
she murmured piteously.
"Diana!"
"Of what value is that which is founded
upon falsehood?"
The words Garrison would have spoken
froze upon his lips as a child's clear treble
sounded suddenly through the camp.
"I saw a moose, Daddy, dear!" The
diminutive sportsman bounded in with a
rush and took his father by storm. "It
was a drate, big moose — O, awful big! —
but I guess p'raps I could have got him,
if I'd had your gun."
"You young scoundrel! Where've you
been?"
"Oh, with Alecs. I don't know 'xactly
where — ever so far from here," with a
child's supreme indifference for direc-
tion, "but maybe some 'day Alecs will
take you with us and show you," he
finished magnaminously. "And muver,
too," he added, on second thought, turn-
ing with a laugh and running to Diana.
She did not speak, but gathered her boy
to her with a great sob.
He looked up wonderingly, the laughter
gone from his face. "Did I hurt, Muver?"
His mother kissed him quietly, quite
calm again. "You did not mean to, dear,"
she said gently. "Come, you are cold,
and hungry too, I know." They went
from the room together, Diana's slender
arms clasped about the child, and Gar-
rison, as he watched them, felt that some-
how it would always be like that now —
one of them must stand alone.
All that evening and the following day
things went on quietly and as usual, cnly
the child was always with them. If he
went out Diana went with him, and when,
in the early evening, he fell asleep by the
hearth she carried him off to bed and did
not return again that night.
Garrison silently understood and ac-
cepted the ultimatum. Since she willed
it thus he had only to obey, but as he
came to realize what her quiet acceptance
of fact meanfc his sorrow took on a keener
edge, and he paid the penalty in sleepless
nights and days of even heavier grief,
veiled by inertia.*
On the third morning Diana was en-
gaged in a snow-battle with Dick when
the sound of sleigh bells and a cheery
shout broke in upon their play. "Heigh
there! Hello, youngster!" someone shouted.
The speaker was a man enveloped in a
great coat, seated on a queer sled built of
logs. As the horses drew up beside them,
he sprang out with a laugh and out-
stretched hands.
Diana stood immovable, but the lad
sprang to his side. "Oh! it's Dr. Cecil,
Muver," he said excitedly.
"So it is, boy! Dr. Cecil stole a march
on you this time, sure enough. Diana,
don't look as if you had seen a ghost — -
I'm really the same old Cecil. Faith,
girl, I looked for a warmer welcome!
Have you grown so a part of this solitude
that you do not recognize one of your
own kin?"
"You startled me so," she faltered,
giving him her hand. "I was thinking
of you just as you called. Robert is not
so well."
The man's face clouded. "Where is
he?"
A PLEA FOR CLEMENCY
393
Diana nodded toward the camp. "In
there."
Thornton put the boy down. "Wait a
bit, Dickie. I must see your daddy."
Something in Garrison's face as he
opened the door startled his friend.
"Hello, Bob! Got quarters for a
stranger?"
"Did she send for you?" demanded his
host, closing the door and leaning heavily
against it.
"She? Oh, Diana— no! I was coming
down next month anyway, but I saw a
little leeway and I skipped. Can't say
much fqr my reception so far, but there's
a storm coming and there'll be no getting
out of these woods for a day or two.
Better make the best of it, Bob!"
Garrison made no reply to Thornton's
badinage, and the physician studied his
face keenly for a little. "Come farther
into the light," he urged, .drawing the
other toward the windows. "Humph! —
it isn't your lungs this time, Robert —
you're breathing as well as any man —
but you're not much to look at! What's
up?"
Garrison went \he length of the room
in silence. "Why not call it the lungs?"
he finally said.
"No! I'm hanged if I will! Come, out
with it."
"Well— I have told Diana," came the
slow response.
"Told Diana what— you— oh, the devil!"
The physician flung his head back in quick
exasperation. "Now why, in the name of
all that is idiotic, did you do that?"
"I hardly know, Cecil — except that I
could not stand it any longer."
"I might have known you would do it,"
growled the physician, striding rapidly
up and down the room. "I suppose this
stillness and solitude have worked upon
your imagination until you have made
yourself out a scoundrel of the first water.
Robert, you're a fool."
"Granted, but hereafter I intend to be
an honest one. If you knew — "
"I do know, man, but I've no patience
with such foolishness. You know what
I think. Theoretically you failed at the
very first — well, you're not the first to
do that — and you won't be the last. The
finished book was yours — solely the work
of your brain — and the reward was rightly
earned. Good Heavens, Robert, read
that first manuscript and then read yours —
rename the characters and their identity
would never be thought of; follow the two
styles — there is no analogy anywhere.
Would Walter's climax have succeeded? —
would his weak ending have taken as
your masterly one did ? It is a great book —
and it is yours."
"That is all true, Cecil, but it doesn't
soften the fact that I stole the original
idea. Walter conceived the thought;
I made it live, if you like — but the first
principle of dishonesty remains."
"Principle of fiddlesticks! You harmed
no one but yourself, and you're paying
that heavy debt. Look here, Robert —
you failed in moral truth when you gave
that story to the world as your work. It
was a foul beginning and if you had stopped
there, God knows we might have censured
you, but you have risen, as the poet would
tell us, on that stepping-stone of your
dead self. You are more the man today —
can't you see it, Bob?"
"Yes." Garrison smiled a little.
"You'd make a good counsel for the de-
fence, Cecil — but I'm going to face the
court on my own charge. It will go pretty
hard with Diana, though. I'd not ask
for heavier punishment than the sight
of her face when the crystal broke."
Cecil wheeled suddenly. "What does
she say?"
"Scarcely anything. In this sudden
loss of faith she cannot find the turning
of the road — nor can I show it to her."
"Well, Robert, I believe I always knew
this would come some day. You had to
work it out your own way, but I've known
what the end would be. And you're
right, too, man — only — if it were any
woman but Diana!"
Garrison nodded, with a quick intake.
of the breath. "That is so true that it
hurts, Cecil."
Thornton put his hand on the other's
shoulder. "Look here, man, you tumble
over there on that couch and get some
sleep — if you don't, I'll give you a hypo-
dermic. You're morbid over this thing.
Diana isn't having a very comfortable
time of it just now, but if she is the
woman I think her she'll come out all
394
A PLEA FOR CLEMENCY
right. Fire purifies — you ought to know
that, Bob."
"Remember that it is her first — "
"Yes, but each one of us has to take
our turn at the crucible — and it's her
hour now. The thing is as inevitable as
night and day — her world is too close, too
ideal, and Life has scarcely touched her
until now. Well, shall I get the needle?"
"No, I'll turn in. Lord, but I'm glad
The physician came up to her
you came, man. Wonder what I'd done
without you for my father-confessor
these last three years! You're a brick,
Cecil."
"Go to sleep!" thundered the doctor,
disappearing toward the camp kitchen,
seeking satisfaction for the inner man and
a chat with the half-breed guide.
It was some little time before he saw
Diana again. The snow began falling
by noon and the short afternoon shut in
early, but Cecil and the guide tramped
about for hours regardless of the storm.
As they mounted a rise of ground near the
house, on their way back, Jacques pointed
to the figure of a woman that outlined
itself against the hemlock shrubs below
them. Cecil nodded and went back,
while the guide pushed stolidly on toward
the camp.
When the physician came up to her,
Diana was standing braced against a
giant tree, on the margin of the frozen
lake. She acknowledged his
approach, but without speak-
ing, and they both watched the
storm for a little in silence.
"It's increasing — hadn't you
better go back?" he finally
ventured.
"No. I like it."
Again he waited, but she
slipped back into her reverie.
"Robert is all alone, Diana,"
was his next suggestion.
"Alecs and Jacques are
there — and Dick."
"But they are not exactly
like a woman1."
She would not follow him,
however. "Alecs is as gentle
as a woman any day," she
protested quietly.
"I'd give worlds to read
your mind as you stand there,
Diana. One might fancy that
you saw a vision in yonder
grim old mountain."
"I was wishing for my
mother," she confessed very
gravely.
The physician was conscious
of a smart. He was a healer
of bodies, not souls. "Softly,
Cecil, thou fool, this is woman's
work," he mused within himself. He
stole a glance at his companion and saw
how pale she was in spite of the exhilara-
tion of the storm, and how steadily the
pain burned in her clear gray eyes. "Is
it, then, so very hard, dear?" he queried
gently, bending toward her.
Startled, she turned her eyes full upon
him with her first visible sign of emotion.
"You, too? He has told—"
"I have known always, Diana."
She moved away from him, and caught
at her throat. "Not— from the first?"
A PLEA FOR CLEMENCY
395
He nodded. "Don't you see? — he had
to tell someone. You were the one who
really mattered most, but he could not
bear to give you pain."
"Ah— if," she breathed.
"It's true, Diana. No force outside
of his own conscience compelled him to
make this avowal." ,
"But the crime, Cecil?"
"The crime — ah, think of his expia-
tion! Doesn't that mean anything to
you?"
"Yes, yes — but I thought him above
reproach."
"I know, dear — you thought 'the king
could do no wrong.' Diana, temptation
is never very far away; it's a hand to hand
fight at most — and luck wins more often
than not. And we're all such frail soldiers
at best that — one hesitates to cast the
first stone."
"And you too have seen — "
"The tempter's face? Yes, child,"
and he smiled with gentle pity into her
bewildered eyes. This lesson from the
Tree of Life hurt both the teacher and
the pupil, was his grim thought. "I
won, but can never feel very proud of
my victory, for I came so near to beating
a retreat."
"Could you have failed as Robert — "
her voice, tremulous and tired, trailed
off into silence.
"God knows," he answered gravely:
"but I envy him the courage that dared
him face your reproach."
"Suppose I fail him?" she whispered,
above her breath. "Suppose my courage —
"If you fail now, what right will you
have to expect mercy from the woman
who in after years may be called upon
to show compassion to your boy?"
"Don't!" she cried. "Anything but
that!"
"And yet," he persisted gently, "if
Robert could—"
"I know — I know," she broke in vehe-
mently; "but when you take them both
from me what have I left?"
"Am I taking them from you or have
you turned away?"
"That hurts."
"I know. It's a trick life has, Diana."
"And you've spoiled all my dreams —
every one."
"Yet dreams are a small part of things.
Life's mostly a field of battle, as I told
you — but there's honor in the struggle
and glory in the victory."
Her face was still pale, even against
the snow that clung here and there to her
sables, but there was a new light in her
eyes and Cecil watched it eagerly. All
at once she lifted her head and the light
burst into sudden radiance.
"If that is true — then I've been very
near deserting."
"No, you haven't," the man declared
stoutly, "but for a first battle it was a
pretty stiff one. . Come, dear."
They went back slowly and in silence
through the snow. It was dark now,
and from the camp many lights streamed
in pale yellow rays upon the white world
without.
As Cecil reached the door she laid her
hand upon his arm detainingly. "Wait,"
she whispered, "there is something else.
I want the old manuscript — Walter's."
"What for?" he turned and tried to read
her face through the darkness, but could
make out nothing. "Make your peace
with Robert first," he begged. "It must
be a pardon, not a reprieve."
"Yes — but get it for me, please."
Garrison sat in a great chair by the fire,
the boy asleep in his arms. He looked
up quickly as the two entered and raised
his hand in warning. Diana slipped off
her snow-covered cloak and crossed the
room softly. Divining her intent, Garrison
raised the child to her arms and turned
away without speaking. For a moment
she wavered, and two scarlet spots flamed
through her paleness; with their child
in her arms she would have refused him
nothing, but only Cecil saw the wonder
in her face. He would have taken the
boy from her as she neared the stairs but
that she shook her head and clasped her
arms more tightly around the unconscious
Dick.
When they were alone the physician
crossed to his friend. "Good — you've
had some sleep, but not enough. Robert,
where's that old manuscript of Walter's
—is it here?"
Garrison searched the doctor's face
earnestly. "Why?"
"Never mind that, Bob. Let's have it."
396
A PLEA FOR CLEMENCY
Opening his desk, the novelist drew from
one of the pigeon holes a bulky packet,
but he held it tentatively in his hands
instead of passing it to Thornton. "See
here, Cecil, if I didn't trust you heaps I'd
never turn this over to you. I don't want
her won by such means."
"Bother take you for a meddler, Robert!
Go back to the fire, and try a little more
trust, man."
A latticed balcony ran around three
sides of the room and from this the sleep-
ing apartments led. The physician sat
down facing the stairs, made a pretext
at reading, and waited for Diana. He
was uncertain just what plan she had
formed, but he refuted his first thought
that she might be seeking to alleviate
Robert's guilt by analytical comparisons.
Whatever her path it would not be eva-
sion— of that he felt assured.
Although waiting for her return, he
was conscious of a start when he looked
up and found Diana's eyes upon him.
She had opened her door quietly and stood
there on the balcony, her folded hands
resting against the balustrade, as she
watched the scene below her. There was
a drowsy quiet in the great room, though
now and then the tinkling of glass and
silver came from the corner where a servant
was laying the table, and without, the
storm, increasing in violence, beat a sharp
tap-tap against the windows. Diana
searched Garrison's face eagerly, but his
closed eyes revealed nothing of the brood-
ing sadness within, and her gaze came
back to Cecil. As his eyes met hers she
put her finger to her lips, cautioning
silence, and bent toward him over the
balcony.
He nodded, pointed to the folded manu-
script on the table, and went once more
in search of his half-breed friend as Diana
descended the stairs.
The novelist seemed to feel her presence
and turned toward her as she crossed to
the hearth. Save for a strange look on
her face he would have spoken, but as she
passed him and bent over the fire, thrust-
ing the manuscript toward the flames, he
caught her roughly.
"No, Diana."
"Why not?"
"It's like destroying evidence — damning
evidence."
"I must burn it."
"What good can that do?"
"You are acquitted — why should it
not be destroyed?"
~You read it?"
"No."
"Yet you acquit me —
"Unconditionally." She freed herself
from him and stood up. "But it is I who
must plead for clemency — I failed so
miserably— '-and I promised so much."
"No, no, Diana — you shall not!"
"I must — but first let me burn the
packet? Think of Dick — if he should
find it sometime — and misunderstand as
I did. Think of his pain — and ours! I
may burn it, dear?"
He did not answer, but she saw how his
defence weakened at her words, and with
a swift, willful movement she stooped
and flung the manuscript into the heart
of the fire. Her hand sought his while
they watched the pages crisp and blacken,
and she felt his fingers twinge in hers as
he suffered in this final rite of his expiation.
Suddenly the paper caught and burst
into a flash of yellow fire. Diana turned
her brilliant eyes full upon him then.
"Look," she cried, "it's all in the flame
now, Robert."
^CHICAGO'S*
Marvelous tlectricai Development
Wliai Ttiomas A' Edison lias Lived to Sec
(&y W*C* Jenkins
GHERE is no chapter in American
history more interesting and
more astonishing, from a com-
mercial standpoint, than the re-
markable strides in electrical development
during the last quarter of the nineteenth,
and the early years of the twentieth cen-
turies. Today there is invested in electric
lighting company properties in the United
States approximately $1,250,000,000, or
about fourteen dollars for every man,
woman or child in
the country. What
the investment will
be in another twenty
years, no one can pre-
dict with any degree
of accuracy.
Thirty years ago
electric lighting was
a marvel — today it is
indispensable in prac-
tically every home.
Every day sees some
new application of its
utility which adds to
the comfort of the
home, or the easier
and cheaper transac-
tion of business.
The history of elec-
tric lighting and
power can be largely
covered in a thirty-
year period; and the
remarkable electrical
development in many
large cities, particu-
larly Chicago, during
that period must be
regarded as little less
than phenomenal. THOMAS ALVA EDISON
In 1885 the system of the largest Chicago
company covered an area of one-eighth of
a square mile; today that of the Common-
wealth Edison Company covers an area
of approximately 200 square miles.
In 1878 Thomas A. Edison secured his
first electric lighting patents. In the years
between 1882 and 1886 alternating cur-
rent and the three wire system came into
general use.
In 1886 Elihu Thomson made electric
welding commercially
practicable . About
two years later the
Sprague Electric Rail-
way was put in opera-
tion at Richmond,
Virginia, and success-
fully, operated. This
was the beginning of
electric railways his-
tory. In the same
year was begun the
building of the first
central station of any
importance — that of
the Chicago Edison
Company at Adams
Street, Chicago.
The Paris Exposi-
tion in 1889 marked
a milestone in the
electrical industry. It
was at this exposition
that the now much
used Watt and Kilo-
watt were defined by
the Electrical Con-
gress. The next year
electric power trans-
mission was success-
fully accomplished.
(397)
398
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
The Chicago World's Fair of 189
marked another milestone in electrical
development. Many electrical appliances,
which are now important features of the
industry, had their beginning at the fair.
The year of 1895 is noted electrically
for the invention of the X-ray machine and
Marconi's system of wireless telegraphy.
and the tallow dip. Before the invention
of the Welsbach burner gas was an ex-
pensive and unsatisfactory illuminant, and
its use was practically confined to the
rich. The great middle and poorer classes
resorted to kerosene lamps and tallow
candles. Even today there is some ques-
tion as to how far it has emerged from the
More recent years have seen the in- experimental stage.
PANORAMIC VIEW OF THE FISK STREET (right) AND QUARRY STREET (left) POWER HOUSES OF THE
RIVER, COAL TRAINS, COAL STORAGE ON GROUNDS, ETC. NOTICE THE
vention of the wireless telephone, great
development in the application of elec-
tricity to motive power on street and in-
terurban railways and a general expansion
of its use for heating and other domestic
necessities.
But little more than a quarter of a cen-
tury ago, and within the memory of com-
paratively young men, the only means
of artificial lighting were gas, kerosene
Th'ere was no one, not even Mr. Edison,
who foresaw the great development and
popularity which electricity would ac-
quire within three decades. In fact, there
were many who boldly asserted that be-
cause of dangers to human life and greatly
increased fire risks, the use of electricity
would never be adopted to any consider-
able extent. But so quickly was this
prejudice overcome and so rapid was the
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
399
development that this, the youngest of
the applied arts, speedily passed from
the experimental stage to a necessary
public-utility, and is now regarded as in-
dispensable in our everyday life.
Many difficulties arose during the early
days of electric lighting. Mr. Edison
found that electrical distribution on a
large scale was as much of a secret as an
unexplored continent. He saw the public
Undaunted in the face of opposition
and prejudice, Mr. Edison and his corps
of assistants planned his first central
station during the winter of 1880. The
details of construction were on paper,
the dynamos had no existence except on
the drafting board and nothing was known
of the requirements for successful insula-
tion or house-wiring. No manufacturing
establishment existed that could supply
•
i § if
COMMONWEALTH EDISON COMPANY, OF CHICAGO, SHOWING THE LOCATION ON THE CHICAGO
SMOKELESS OPERATION OF THE IMMENSE CENTRAL POWER HOUSES
on both sides of the Atlantic engaged in
a violent controversy as to whether it
was possible to ever make electricity of
commercial value. All kinds of com-
parisons were made as to the difference
between the cost of gas and electricity,
and it was boldly asserted that unless Mr.
Edison could provide an illuminant that
would compete with gas, its utility would
be neither practicable nor possible.
the material needed, and Mr. Edison had
to abandon the laboratory and the drafting
room to equip and manage shops in which
to manufacture the necessary apparatus
from generator to lamp.
The development of arc lighting pre-
ceded that of incandescent lighting by
several years. An arc lamp had been ex-
hibited in Chicago as early as 1878; but
the new system did not attract any par-
400
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
ticular attention until 1880 when a fifty-
light arc dynamo was installed in the
basement of the Young Men's Christian
Association Building and on June first the
plant started with forty lamps rented.
The price obtained for the service was
$1.50 per day for ten-hour lights, and
seventy -five cents from dusk to midnight.
The apparent success of the new method
of lighting encouraged other concerns to
engage in the business, the Vandepoele
Electric Light Company being at that time
one of the strongest companies. This
concern installed a number of arc light
plants for various hotels and business
houses in the downtown districts. The
new system had gained such immediate
popularity that isolated plants began to
spring up in every direction in the busi-
ness section of the city. The economies
of the central station were unknown at
that time.
The first Chicago company to apply
for a charter and permission to extend
wires through the city was the Brush
Light Company. As might be expected,
the gas companies organized a strong
opposition and the entrance of the electric
companies was fought from every angle.
The gas companies had powerful allies
in the insurance men who were appre-
hensive of the increased fire risks and with
a prevailing impression that the advent
of electric lighting brought with it greatly
increased dangers to human life, it is
perhaps not strange that a franchise was
difficult to secure. After much debate
the council finally granted the Brush
Light Company, which was largely fin-
anced by Jesse Spaulding and Robert
Law, the right to suspend its wires from
buildings. Several fires occurred in con-
sequence of improper wiring and the
privilege granted by the council was soon
withdrawn and the company ordered to
place its wires underground.
Every great industrial corporation had
its beginning; some were launched under
the most advantageous conditions, while
others had their inception in an obscure
workshop where nothing but energy and
a firm determination to succeed appeared
as assets. The beginning of the Common-
wealth Edison Company of Chicago, one
of the largest electric lighting companies
in the world, may be traced to a little
electrical supply shop located at number
126 Clark Street in 1868. This insig-
nificant little concern was conducted by
George H. Bliss and L. O. Tillotson.
Later the firm moved to number 247
South Water Street, and in the great
fire of 1871 the shop burned. In 1874
the company was merged into the Western
Electric Manufacturing Company.
Mr. Bliss had been an intimate associ-
ate of Thomas A. Edison and he secured
the agency for the "Edison Company for
Isolated Lighting" for Illinois, Iowa and
Wisconsin. One of the conditions was that
Mr. Bliss should organize a company with
offices in Chicago to introduce the Edison
appliances in the territory, and in 1882 the
company was launched.
The first Edison plant in Chicago was
installed in the factory of the United
States Rolling Stock Company. It was
a simple affair with a capacity of 130
eight-candle power lamps. The second
was a small exhibition outfit installed in
Field, Leiter & Company's wholesale
warehouse. Within the next few months
a number of additional plants were in-
stalled, the most important being the
Palmer House dining room, two floors of
the McCormick Reaper Works, the Re-
publican Life Insurance Company Build-
ing, Rand McNally Company and the
Calumet Club.
The first Chicago residence to use
electric light was that of J. W. Doane on
Prairie Avenue. Shortly afterwards the
neighboring residences of Judge Dent,
Joseph Sears, Edson Keith and Marshall
Field were wired, and in order to supply
current to these residences a small gen-
erating plant was installed in Mr. Doane's
barn, from which Edison underground
tubes were laid to each house. The
capacity of the plant was 550 lamps and
though comparatively insignificant, it has
the honor of being the first central s.tation
in Chicago for incandescent lighting.
The Bliss agency was unable to finance
an undertaking of the magnitude which
the industry had immediately assumed
and a number of Chicago business men
lent their aid and money in organizing
the Western Edison Light Company,
which began business in 1882 with $500,000
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
401
capital. The new company took over the
contracts granted to Mr. Bliss and opened
offices at number 51-53 Wabash Avenue.
In the basement of this building a sixty-
light dynamo was installed and this was
soon supplemented by a 250-light machine.
From this plant the company distributed
incandescent lighting to several adjacent
stores on Wabash Avenue.
The first theatre in the world to use
incandescent lamps was the Academy of
were persuaded to proceed with the second
act.
The first theatre to be completely
lighted with incandescent lamps was the
old Haverly Theatre, then located on
Monroe Street, where the Inter-Ocean
building now stands. This plant con-
sisted of two dynamos with a capacity of
637 lamps. On the opening night, only
sufficient lights were started at first to
enable the ushers to 'seat the audience.
OLD VIEW OP SOUTH CLARK STREET, CHICAGO
Typical illuminating down town, exclusive of State Street, in 1S03
Music on Halsted Street, Chicago, the
plant being installed by the Western
Edison Light Company. The theatre
was wired for 150 sixteen-candle power
lamps. The lighting was confined to the
Auditorium, no electric lights were used
on the stage as dimmers had not been
thought of at that time. On the opening
night, after the new lights were installed,
the actors struck claiming that it was im-
possible to make up by gas light and play
their parts under the glare of the electric
lights. It was with difficulty that they
When the curtain rose every light was
turned on, causing tremendous sensation
among the audience and eliciting applause
that continued for fifteen minutes. The
innovation was so successful that Mc-
Vicker's Theatre and the Chicago Opera
House immediately installed similar plants.
For a time the Western Edison Light
Company devoted its energies largely
to the installation of isolated plants, the
central station idea being in its infancy.
Mr. Edison was devoting his energies in
an endeavor to overcome difficulties in
402
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
the New York plant and it was not until
the latter part of 1882 that its practicability
was fully demonstrated. The apparatus
used in the Pearl Street Station, New
York, was not adapted to the requirements
of smaller communities. Following the
success of the experiment, modified plants
were installed in other districts of New
York City and in Pennsylvania, Ohio and
Massachusetts. In 1887 the building of
the first station in Chicago was started.
Light and Power Company was incor-
porated and in a short time acquired a
number of isolated plants, having a total
of 930 lamps in service. For a short
time these various and scattered properties
were operated separately, but one by one
they were connected with a central station
on Washington Street and in less than two
years the company had in service about
2,000 lamps. The logical necessity of the
central station had been demonstrated, so
PRINTING AND ENGRAVING PLANT. INDIVIDUAL MOTOR DRIVE
The period from 1883 to 1887 is memor-
able for the rapid increase in the number
of small isolated arc light plants, installed
in various sections of Chicago. Lighting
companies were organized on every hand
and prices began to tumble to a point
where there was little, if any, profit in the
business. From the original charge of
$1.50 per lamp per night, competition
had in some cases forced the price down
to fifty cents; but the demand for electric
light was established beyond all question.
In the spring of 1887 the Chicago Arc
had the limitations and disadvantages of
the arc light.
In 1887 the people were clamoring for
small and flexible lighting units and this
demand signalized the organization of the
Chicago Edison Company, and the general
introduction of incandescent lighting on
a large scale.
When the Chicago Edison Company
was organized in 1887, there were less
than a hundred concerns in the United
States engaged in central station service.
Today there are upwards of 6,000 central
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
403
station companies in this country. In
1887 the entire central station investment
did not exceed $10,000,000; today the total
capital employed in this industry ap-
proximates $1,250,000,000.
The early plan of the Chicago Edison
Company was to immediately install a
central station and distributing system.
Accordingly a piece of land at number
139 Adams Street was secured on"a ninety-
nine year lease and the erection of what
flat rate of $1.00 per lamp per month, its
principal plant being located in the Adams
Express Building. The company also
operated another plant in the basement of
the Alhambra Theatre from which point
it competed with the Edison Company
for South Side business. For the first
few years every step was an experimental
one; but general progress resulted from
the efforts.
In 1892 Mr. Samuel Insull took charge
BLUE ISLAND AVENUE LAMPS— NIGHT SCENE
Merchants pay for lamp post illumination
is known as the Adams Street Station was
begun in June, 1887. The first units pro-
vided for about 10,000 lights and the plant
was placed in operation August 8, 1888.
A contract had been given a construction
company to furnish and install the wiring
for 5,000 lights in buildings located in the
downtown districts, the lights being in-
stalled free of charge to the customers.
The new company had no monopoly of
the industry, for very shortly after that
time the Fort Wayne Electric Company was
distributing incandescent lighting at a
of the affairs of the Chicago Edison Com-
pany. It was at once shown to the
board of directors that a central station
company should be prepared to furnish
electricity to all classes of customers
within its territory, not only for lighting
but also for commercial purposes and with
the least possible delay he proceeded to
put this principle into practice. At that
time the Adams Street plant was in any-
thing but an efficient condition. During
the period of an unusually heavy load,
the appearance of the station suggested
404
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
a glimpse of Dante's Inferno, the engines
being pushed to their utmost capacity,
and in the roaring dynamo room the smell
of shellac and varnish from the armatures
told the story of inefficiency. In the
boiler room the half -naked firemen were
shoveling coal with demoniac energy,
while at the rear of the building the glow-
ing stack filled the atmosphere with clouds
of smoke. The general conditions tended
to give the impression that an explosion
might furnish the climax at any moment.
The company then turned its attention
to the matter of competition in the down-
town districts and in the spring of 1893
absorbed the Chicago Arc Light and Power
Company. The Edison Company paid
to the owners of the Chicago Arc Light and
Power Company the sum of $2,195,000,
which amount was raised by the issue
of Chicago Edison Company debentures
bearing six per cent interest. Shortly
afterwards the two plants owned by the
Fort Wayne Electric Company were pur-
ONE BOILER ROOM SECTION OF THE FISK STREET STATION
of the Commonwealth Edison Company. This section supplies steam for one Turbine
The station was originally planned for
40,000 lights, and was at this time running
to its full capacity. Every inch of space
had been utilized and the question to be
considered by the management was . to
provide for present and prospective busi-
ness. A plan was suggested providing
for the rental of a portion of the basement
under the old Rand McNally Building,
located across the alley in the rear of the
Edison Building. It was promptly author-
ized and additional engines and dynamos
were immediately installed in the auxiliary
plant to take care of the increased load.
chased and about 7,000 additional lights
were connected to the Edison Company
from this source.
There has been, during recent years, a
noticeable tendency toward the consoli-
dation of small individual stations into
large systems with extensive networks,
and this has brought with it the whole-
sale "scrapping" of plants and apparatus
and the installation of appliances of far
higher efficiency and economy in order to
meet the demand of the public for cheaper
and better service.
The policy of consolidation and ab-
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
405
sorption adopted by the Chicago Edison
Company resulted in the company se-
curing practically the entire lighting in-
dustry in Chicago in 1897, when it or-
ganized the Commonwealth Electric Com-
pany. The Commonwealth franchise was
for fifty years from June 28, 1897, and was
said to be the best ever granted by the
city of Chicago. The plan was to organize
all the small companies surrounding the
Chicago Edison Company territory under
ceipts were largely from an arc light
service.
The consolidation of electric-lighting
companies, while looked upon with con-
siderable apprehension by the general
public at that time, was really a stride in
municipal advancement which but few
failed to realize. Chicago had been liberal
in granting franchises and permits to
lighting companies, and as a result there
had been built several systems of various
SOUTH WATER STREET, PRODUCE COMMISSION DISTRICT," CHICAGO
the Commonwealth ordinance. Eight
companies were brought into the new
concern, mostly all operated on the out-
skirts of the city. The Chicago Edison
Company thus secured immunity from
competition. The consolidation secured
harmony in the operation of the electric-
lighting interests of Chicago and was
deservedly considered an important achieve-
ment in the electrical and financial world
at that time. The gross revenue of the
different companies at the time of con-
solidation amounted to between $350,000
and $400,000 per annum; but these re-
degrees of excellence and stability. To
the engineers of the Chicago Edison Com-
pany, which had acquired a number of
these properties, was then presented the
problem of unifying the systems, but the
changes had to be without materially
sacrificing the value of the investment
represented by the generating apparatus
and lines of the existing stations. In
addition to providing for the existing load
every new addition to the system had to be
designed for the future as the probable
development had always to be considered.
A series of problems constantly con-
406
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
fronted the company's engineers. As the
convenience and the desirable features of
electric light and power were being more
fully appreciated, and especially when the
cost was reduced, electric motors began
to be used more liberally. This meant
a big increase in the load at the station
as well as in the size of the district to be
served; and how to meet the increase
successfully and economically, though
ship. Undoubtedly the wonderful de-
velopment of electric service in Chicago
has been gained by the application of these
two principles.
President Insull's theory is that the
central station business has become a
vast manufacturing industry, and that
if the companies are to successfully serve
the people, they must develop, to a large
extent, the wholesale supply of_ current
STATE STREET ELECTRIC DECORATIONS DURING THE KNIGHTS TEMPLAR CONCLAVE
IN AUGUST, 1910
simple today, was a problem of great
importance at that time.
Perhaps few business enterprises re-
quire a higher order of intelligence than
the successful management of a central
station. Success depends, to a large ex-
tent, on two vital principles: reducing the
cost of production to the lowest possible
point, and disposing of the output in large
quantities at low prices. The first prin-
ciple requires the highest order of scien-
tific engineering and the second involves
a necessity for the best kind of salesman-
to large users, such as public-service cor-
porations and the transportation companies
and furnish same at a low cost.
There are, probably, few lines of busi-
ness that are benefitted more by reduced
cost of production in consequence of in-
creased output than the central station
business. This is true today in conse-
quence of the introduction of the steam
turbines. While the principle of the
steam turbines is not new the commercial
application is of comparatively recent
development. The limitation of the re-
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
407
ciprocating engines for central stations
has been placed at 12,000 horse power,
this being the largest ever built. Steam
turbines have been built for twice this
capacity and it has become possible to
obtain a large increase in power output
without any additional cost for fuel, the
turbines utilizing steam which was formerly
discharged into the air.
To the Commonwealth Edison Company
The installation of turbines of this size
incites no unusual comment today.
The enormous development which has
taken place in Chicago during recent
years has no equal in the history of elec-
tric lighting. The month of April, 1910,
was the most successful month in the
history, so far as the number of indi-
vidual orders are concerned. The total
number of new contracts secured by the
ELECTRIC PRESSING IRONS AT CLOTHING STORE ALTERATION DEPARTMENT
Showing automatic temperature control tests
credit must be given for its pioneer work
in demonstrating that the steam turbines
of large capacity can be successfully used
in central station work. In 1903 the com-
pany installed the first 7,500 horse power
steam turbine ever built. The construc-
tion of turbines of this size was, at that
time, a matter that involved many un-
known factors. It was, from a financial
viewpoint, a courageous undertaking to
step so far ahead of the industrial pro-
cession, but the fact that the company
acted wisely has been fully demonstrated.
Commonwealth Edison Company during
that month was 10,398, against 8,466 for
the same month in 1909. The average
was about 400 for each working day. Of
these 107 a day were taken over the
counter at the Adams Street office. The
remainder were secured by agents. To
handle this large volume of business it
was necessary to maintain a large night
force not only in the order department,
but in several other departments.
No one, not even the most far-sighted
electrical engineer, foresaw the great
408
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
VIEW IN MARKET STREET SUB-STATION, COMMONWEALTH EDISON COMPANY
Showing station transformers and rotary converters
development in electrical service which
has taken place in Chicago during recent
years. When the Fisk Street Station
was under construction in 1903, the
National Electric Light Association held
its annual convention in Chicago. Most
of the engineers in attendance visited
the Fisk Street Station and it was the
unanimous opinion that a station of
105,000 horse power capacity was sufficient
to provide for a future growth of many
years. No one predicted what actually
took .place, as in less than five years it
became necessary to enlarge the station
to 150,000 horse power capacity. Later
this was increased to 180,000. So in-
sufficient was the capacity of the Fisk
Street Station in 1908, that the company
was not only compelled to enlarge the
plant, but to build the Quarry Street
Station across the river with a capacity
of 126,000 horse power, and this with the
Harrison Street and the Fifty-sixth Street
Stations contain a total generating ca-
pacity of 330,000 horse power. Orders
have been placed for units with a gener-
ating capacity of 60,000 horse power for
the new Northwest Station now in process
of construction. This new* station, when
completed, will be one of the finest in the
country. It is designed for an ultimate
capacity of 360,000 horse power.
The company's great storage battery
service is not included in the foregoing
figures.
It is practically certain that the com-
pany will be compelled to increase its
local capacity by at least 60,000 horse
power each year, in order to supply the
increased demand and maintain its present
excellent service. And it is not a rash
prediction to state that the capacity in
the year 1920 will exceed 1,000,000 horse
power.
( To be continued )
, tf)e Snlanb &rt Cttp
By MITCHELL MANNERING
E really ought to visit Coshocton,
Ohio, incidentally to acquire the
proper pronunciation of Co-shoc-ton — a
most melodious Indian name when spoken
without a stumble! The "Sign City"
it is called, in hardly adequate expression
of its prestige as one of the most famous
inland art centers in the country. For
here the finest commercial art-work is
originated and thence
permeates broadcast
through every state
and territory of the
rounding landscape, for the Inland Art
City nestles at the junction of two beautiful
rivers beside which historic old canals
form narrow expanses of still waters, re-
flecting verdant banks and overhanging
trees.
Adjoining Coshocton are mines from
which coal sold at ninety cents and $1.20
a ton is hauled direct to the consumer,
and one of the mines has never needed a
railroad track, as the entire product is
hauled in wagons direct to local purchasers.
Near at hand stands the heating plant
PLANT OF THE AMERICAN ART WORKS AT COSHOCTON, OHIO
republic. Popular art was given birth in
Coshocton and in the country, on every
highway and byway, almost wherever
the eye can rest within the boundaries of
the republic, one can find a Coshocton
creation in effective lettering and illustra-
tion.
Some years ago I promised President
C. B. McCoy of the American Art Works
of Coshocton to visit the town, as early
as when he was editor of a newspaper
established by the late Joseph Medill of
the Chicago Tribune. The old office
still exists, just as established by Mr.
Medill when he set himself up as a real
editor in order to win the hand of the
daughter of a New Philadelphia editor,
who insisted that his son-in-law should
be more than a mere printer.
To appreciate Coshocton fully, one
must first realize the beauty of the sur-
of Coshocton, one ofrthe few in the United
States which furnishes water heat to the
houses in pipes centered at the electric
light station.
The great industry for which Coshocton
is now famous is its sign-making and ad-
vertising specialties, a business originally
established in a country printing office.
Its first specialty was an issue of burlap
school-bags on which advertisements were
printed and these bags at once attracted
the public, and aroused a general interest
in the possibilities of specialty advertising.
The next important innovation was the
development of the metal sign, which
had its beginning in the little old-time
insurance sign which the farmer proudly
tacked over his door when his homestead
had been insured. Then came reproduc-
tions of oil paintings, and later designs
from original canvases; every kind of
(409)
410
COSHOCTON, THE INLAND ART CITY
novelty that can possibly be conceived
is now used, and the final triumph has
been the metallic sign, which reproduces
some of the most artistic and beautiful
paintings in the world, many of which
are originated by the artists and phrase-
makers of the American Art Works at
Coshocton.
At the offices of the Works, just across
the way from the depot, the walls, easels
and racks are covered with exquisite
samples of the novel creations that have
made Coshocton famous the world over.
The metallic sign department has de-
the rafters is displayed the complete
canvas of Howard Chandler Christy's
famous "Evangeline" — and a real master-
piece it is, with its wonderful portrayal
of the winsome Acadian maiden, the
restful charm of Grand Pre, its peaceful
farmsteads, the broad Basin of Minas
and distant Blomidon. Every designer
seems inspired with the true spirit of
artistic evolution, and an atmosphere of
genius and appreciation of "art for art's
sake" blends with the spirit of commercial
enterprise.
At the Omaha meeting of the Associated
THE LITHOGRAPH STONE LIBRARY OF THE AMERICAN ART WORKS AT COSHOCTON
veloped wonderful proportions during the
past few years, and has been one of the
most revolutionary innovations intro-
duced in the history of advertising. In
the novelty department, a host of new
ideas in buttons, souvenir trays, pocket-
books and fans — in fact, every kind of
novelty imaginable, even to the political
campaign button containing sand — real
sand — from Oyster Bay, forms a very
museum of advertising specialties.
In the studio of the Art department
on the second floor, a large force of artists
is at work evolving original and dainty
designs and ideas for the use of the largest
advertisers in the country. Here among
Advertising Clubs of America, I heard an
address by Mr. Lewellyn E. Pratt of the
American Art Works as he heralded with
true fervor the fame of Coshocton, and
later discussed "Specialty Advertising,"
the subject nearest to his heart, in a way
that held the rapt attention of his
audience. His theme was "Service," in-
sisting that service was and must be the
thought uppermost in specialty advertis-
ing as well as in other branches of publicity.
"It isn't the purpose of the American Art
Works to sell signs," he said, "but to
project ideas and give service!" This
service includes the suggestions of word-
phrases and illustrations that crystallize
COSHOCTON, THE INLAND ART CITY
411
into trade expressions worth thousands
of dollars to the advertiser through
the accentuation of value to the
articles advertised through taking trade
names.
The processes by which these signs are
made are intensely interesting. The de-
signs are lithographed on steel, and the
varied colors and delicate gradations of
tint and effect suggest the unfading
brilliant pigments of Rubens or Rem-
brandt. For in this little city gather
artists from all over the world, enjoying
life and art as if domiciled in the pic-
of the highest excellence in all the work
to be accomplished.
Every department bears witness to the
great field of publicity opened up by the
exploitation of specialty advertising. Ar-
tistic metal signs are only one form of the
popular branches of exploitation. The
exquisite signs, plaques and novelties
originally used chiefly by large brewers
are now being utilized for souvenirs in
all lines of textile and household com-
modities; for all manufacturers are realiz-
ing that the subtle concentration of
popular thought creates a demand that
THE LITHOGRAPH ARTISTS' ROOM OF THE AMERICAN ART WORKS AT COSHOCTON
turesque art centers of Europe. The old
court house in the square is already adorned
with a novel decoration, representing the
historic treaty negotiated with the Indians
by General Bouquet on the site of Co-
shocton, over two centuries ago.
The most impressive feature of the*
American Art Works is the co-operation
that exists between every department
and every individual; all seem to be loyally
working together for one purpose, and
everyone appears eager to keep his work
up to the highest standard — the slogan is
to "Keep up the Quality." All over the
building the chief thought in the minds
of the workers seems to be the attainment
grows and gathers force as it is constantly
kept before the user. Among hundreds
of novelties of this kind are many well
known to the patron of the cigar counter
and the soda fountain — such as the dainty
little Coca-Cola tray for the soda-font,
with the lettered trade-mark graced by a
reproduction of one of Hamilton King's
best paintings.
A convention of the salesmen of the
American Art Works is held each year,
and the proceedings of these meetings
are an inspiring demonstration of the
force of modern advertising. The address
of President McCoy at the last meeting
of this kind contained many terse and
412
COSHOCTON, THE INLAND ART CITY
striking epigrams. He insisted that none
of his people were employes, but rather
co-workers; that everyone in the company
shared alike its successes and reverses;
and that the elimination of personal preju-
dices, likes and dislikes, was one of the
basic causes of the success of the Works.
The fundamental principle that whatever
is reasonable is right was maintained, and
the basis of the great achievements of the
American Art Works was the universal
acceptation of this principle of co-opera-
tion, working together, talking together,
thinking together, succeeding together —
in the fullest sense of the word. Few in-
dustrial establishments have come to my
notice in which this spirit of working to-
gether and developing in not only me-
chanical but artistic endeavor, is so im-
pressively manifest as at Coshocton.
Every detail is given close attention
all along the line, and there was not a
worker in the building who did not seem
to follow out the key given by one of the
salesmen at the last convention, in nine
magic words:
"Read, read, read,
Look, look, look,
Think, think, think."
If anyone has a suggestion to offer to
another department it is carefully con-
sidered, and with the concentrated ideas
of six or seven hundred employes of a
vast variety of temperaments, both prac-
tical and artistic, the results can be
imagined. It is said that if a man wakes
up during the night at Coshocton with a
brand new advertising idea which he feels
must be developed at once, the factory
of the American Art Works is ready to
be opened, even in the wee hours, recalling
Emerson's manner of writing by a lighted
candle through the night.
After a visit at the American Art Works,
the future of art as related to commerce
impresses itself vividly as it exists and
creates at Coshocton. If the development
is as great in the next decade as in the
past ten years it is plainly to be foreseen
that through the greater distribution of
artistic signs and advertising specialties
the factories of America will be brought
closer to the consumer than ever before,
and that their novelties entering into the
everyday life of the people will exert a
positive and effective medium of art
culture. The factory and sales department
of this institution work hand in hand,
and are not teamwork and co-operation
the keynote of the successful manufactur-
ing and industrial interests of today?
The successful salesman has the hearty
co-operation of those in the shop, where
every man is willing to sacrifice personal
vanity to push toward achievement the
greater ambitions of the institution of
which he forms a part.
A modest little sign in the outer office
of the Art Works announces "Every Sales-
man Will be Given a Hearing." There
are no forbidding cage-like partitions,
everything is open and everyone welcome,
whether selling or buying. The culti-
vated habit of keeping the eyes and ears
open, and watching out constantly for
new ideas, represents a phase of American
industrial life that makes progress as
inevitable as the rising and setting of the
sun.
Sometimes the men in the shop feel
that they want to go out on the road
awhile and try to sell their work and inci-
dentally gain ideas, often the artistically
inclined salesman feels that he has an
idea he would like to work out himself
in the factory to satisfy some exacting
customer. Everyone is ready to assist
in the evolution of an idea; and truly the
most salable commodity that exists in
the advertising realm today is the simple
idea. In the hours spent at Coshocton,
I felt that I had come in close contact
with the living springs that permeate the
great world of business exploitation.
At a luncheon at the Country Club —
a. picturesque old farmstead amid tower-
ing elms on the hillside overlooking Co-
shocton— I met the kindred souls that
come from far and near to get ideas, and
make plans for advertising styles and
specialties in much the same way as the
modiste goes to Paris to know what is
winning favor in that never tangible but.
ever present realm of "Popular Favor."
A FLIGHT TO THE SOUTHLAND
By THE EDITOR
•"THE presidential party were on their
•*• way to visit Panama and the Canal
Zone, and storied Charleston, South
Carolina, and her hospitable and courtly
people had prepared a fitting and generous
celebration for President Taft's visit.
The garden walls of mottled green, en-
riched by those softened tints which only
ancient design and the lapse of time can
give, the cobble-paved streets, and Doric
and Corinthian architecture, carry one
back to other years and give a subtle
aura of stately ancientry to the homes of
ante-bellum days. The tiny lawns, mossy
trees and shrubbery hedges, clustering
about homelike dwellings that carry a
touch of the last century, made the early
morning drive another impression from
the entry into New York City with its
"Kef," "Kef," in feverish staccato.
In historic Marion Park the school
children were gathered, at nine o'clock, to
greet the President, and under the stately
memorial of John C. Calhoun, almost
within sight of Fort Sumter, President
Taft stood erect in a carriage and ad-
dressed the thousands of children who
greeted him with waving flags and cheers
in boyish treble and the soft Southern
girlish alto. In the harbor, the "Ten-
nessee" lay ready to weigh anchor for
the cruise to Panama, and the steel gray
hull of the massive ship, in the beautiful
harbor of Charleston, presented a scene
that should have been immortalized by
the artist's pencil. Far out toward the
entrance stood Fort Sumter, where the
first sparks of the Civil War were struck
from Northern flint by Southern steel,
and every beach and inlet has an historical
interest that can never fade away, so long
as courage and skill in attack and devotion
and endurance in defence are honored
among men. The old market just down
Meeting Street, with its massive walls, is
still, as it has been for centuries past, the
scene of many merry and quaint market-
day gatherings. There is something about
Charleston that makes one want to linger
awhile — even the railroad trains pay
special homage, as it were, to the courtly
city, by politely backing in and out of the
station with a gracious bow on arriving and
a shrill salute on leaving.
The presidential party started for the
Yacht Club Wharf, and embarked in
a launch for the naval war dog, leashed
in the harbor. The President pulled his
overcoat cover up as he started on his
cruise; the executive salute of twenty-
one guns was fired; the great anchor
chains clanked, and off the "Tennessee"
steamed for Colon.
The query "Why did President Taft
sail from Charleston?" was given a variety
of answers. "Because of the people
here," said a Charlestonite with true
native pride, but north of Charleston is
the most dangerous point on the Coast
and the turbulent waters of Cape Hatteras,
of which the old sailor rhyme saith:
"// Carnaveral you pass
You'll fetch up on Hatteras"
as many a good ship and gallant crew
have realized to their utter destruction. In
sailing from Charleston rather than from
New York or Norfolk, the terrors of the
sea and the "Cape of Storms" were avoided.
But Charleston boasts that she is nearer
to Panama than New Orleans, and that
the President's sailing from that port
when he visits the canal clearly shows
that one of the chief Southern ports for
Panama trade will be Charleston. At
some of the old wharves were steamships
loading with cotton for Europe, and it
is not unnatural that Charleston should
feel a pride in her natural advantages as
a seaport. When vessels ply from Atlantic
to Pacific ports through the Panama
Canal, Charleston expects to gather toll
on her share of shipping.
* * *
After watching the "Tennessee" until
far out to sea, there was just time to catch
the train South, and run down to Way-
(413)
414
A PLIGHT TO THE SOUTHLAND
cross, Georgia, where a delightful few
hours were spent with Senator G. W. Deen,
whose energy and enterprise have done
much to make this little town . famous.
In the Grand Hotel block, of which
other products are handsomely displayed.
Senator Deen is one of the pushing men
of the South, and has done much toward
developing his section of Georgia. Just
now several thriving colonies of new
JUST HUNTING AND FISHING IN FLORIDA
any city might feel proud, Senator Deen
maintains his offices, which are veritable
expositions of the wonderful products of
his section of Georgia which is being
rapidly developed. Sea Island cotton,
pecan nuts, sweet potatoes and many
settlers have found here all that could be
desired, in the way of opportunities for
making new homes and earning their own
living direct from the soil. The Senator
has been very successful in locating a
number of Italian colonies, though they
A FLIGHT TO THE SOUTHLAND
415
may sometimes be called Genevan. A
story is told of how he located one colony
on some land in the morning, and
before night every stump was afire, and
the colonists getting ready for clearing and
planting. Over a hundred thousand more
acres of rich lands are shortly to be
reclaimed from swamps. The prosperity
of farmers around Waycross and the
rugged health of the large families tells
the whole story at a glance. The great
problem of the South is to get the small
captured Pensacola from its Spanish
garrison before the final transfer of Florida
to the United States, it has maintained
its lead and prestige, and the immense
influx of Northern tourists and settlers
during past years is reflected very effec-
tively in the recent census returns. Jack-
sonville has certainly made a remarkable
record, which is not to be wondered at
when one visits the city and sees its hand-
some buildings and splendid shipping and
industrial advantages.
A SCENE IN FLORIDA WHICH LOOKS GOOD TO THE NORTHERNER IN THE WINTER
farmer at work, says Senator Been. And
after seeing and realizing the advantages
offered Lin the fertile lands of the South,
one must perforce wonder that men will
struggle against poverty and ill-health
in the city when the greatest opportuni-
ties in cultivating the land lie before them.
Over the rolling acres the train sped to
Savannah and on to Florida — direct into
the gateway of Florida, — for Jacksonville
is the metropolis of that state. There is
something fascinating in the busy activi-
ties of this flourishing seaport. Named
for General Andrew Jackson, who twice
A motor drive over to Riverside with
Captain C. E. Garner, who used topsail j)n
the St. John's River in his early youth, was
a rare treat. The great trees, the beautiful
sea- view, the fine home of the Country
Club — small wonder that those who retire
from active business life and flock south-
ward to escape the rigors of a Northern
winter, come to find ease and happiness
on the banks of this beautiful river.
There is a complete course of archi-
tectural study in the varied and artistic
residences and cottage homes of these
dwellers in Linda Florida. From severe
416
A FLIGHT TO THE ' SOUTHLAND
Gothic and oriental Moorish to classic
Queen Anne and stately Colonial — every
style of architecture appears represented.
The vistas of the avenue of palms and
the grand boulevard, bordered by two rows
of palms, and in the center beautiful
stretches of park, in which an almost
tropical luxuriance of foliage is apparent,
must be seen to be properly appreciated.
But like all practical citizens, and as the
head of the Jacksonville Board of Trade
for many years, Captain Garner always
points with special pride to the city
waterworks and the electric plant. Ar-
tional Bank are photographs of the city
after the great fire of 1901, contrasted
with the Jacksonville of today. In that
great fire, the real test of Jacksonville's
citizenship was made. All creeds, all
parties, all classes, united in the great
work of rebuilding, and several prominent
men virtually gave their health and lives
in carrying out the task of reconstruction.
It was at Jacksonville, in the office of
Mr. Griffing, that I tasted my first per-
simmon, and found it remarkably good,
too. I puzzled Mr. Griffing when I asked,
"Where is the pole?" for he had forgotten
ON THE BEACH DURING ONE OP THOSE FAMOUS AUTOMOBILE RACES IN FLORIDA
tesian wells afford an ample supply of
water of excellent flavor, which flows
from seven great wells into a large reser-
voir, and is there aerated and distributed.
The oil for fuel used in the electric plant
is brought direct from Texas, and is sup-
plied at very low cost. Jacksonville has
long been known as one of the best-
lighted cities of the country, owing to the
low price of electric lights furnished by
thej*city. The electric light and water-
works plants, managed by a capable
commission, have been a signal example
of successful municipal ownership.
Captain Garner relates many incidents
of the early days of Jacksonville, and on
the walls of his office in the Florida Na-
the old saying, "The longest pole knocks
down the most persimmons." Mr. Griffing
is a well-known agricultural expert, to
whose office many farmers come for
counsel as to how to make the best use
of their lands, and I readily found it,
although even his home address was not
given in the announcement in the Florida
edition of the NATIONAL.
A large and handsome paved boulevard
has recently been completed "from Jack-
sonville to the sea" by which the future
proportions of the city can be estimated.
The boulevard is bordered on either side
by foliaged semi-tropical luxuriance, and
runs through the Oakwood villas, which
are in charge of Mr. W. C. Warrington.
418
A FLIGHT TO THE SOUTHLAND
There are seaside resorts close at hand.
Ocean-going steamships come up the
river night and day, and a large amount
of passenger and freight traffic from New
York comes by water transportation at
freight rates that make it possible to sell
many goods from New York and New
England for the same prices at which
they are sold at home.
The fact has long been established that
Jacksonville is to become one of the great
cities of the South, and the suburbs are
being developed to make it one of America's
ideal home cities, while the climate is
alluring and attractive when the wintry
winds begin to sweep across the continent.
All around Jacksonville there has been
a wonderful era of farm development.
The Maxville farms, located not far away,
have produced crops of Sea Island Cotton
and many other diversified crops which
have been pronounced unrivalled. Here
this company have forty and eighty
acre tracts in which they take great pride;
getting just the right people to develop
their lands to the best possible advantage.
The Maxville settlers are enthusiastic over
the results of their crops; as one of the
colonists said: "Nothing anywhere equals
Maxville. It's good enough for me."
Across the bridge are the great fertilizer
works, and nearby stands the house in
which Talleyrand lived when an exile
from France. One can almost picture
the noted Frenchman seated under his
pecan tree, writing his famous treatise
in which he declared that republics were
but "moulded sand." Perhaps the fact
that he lived so near to the stretch of
Florida sand may have had something
to do with the metaphor.
Jacksonville is the chief center of
Floridian activity. The promotion of
the new celery or grapefruit plantations;
the drainage of the great Everglade dis-
trict, a project which has been of interest
for many vears past; the opening of new
colonies; the building of new railroads —
all seem to center in Jacksonville for
promotion.
The two-million-dollar contract for the
draining of the Everglades is being rapidly
pushed to completion, and there is great
activity on the south shore of Lake
Okeechobee. Three immense dredges start-
ing from the East Coast, and three more
eating into the mud, saw-grass and hum-
mocks from the southern bight of Lake
Okeechobee, are reclaiming great areas
of jet black soil, of illimitable depth, said
to be capable of producing anything
that can be cultivated in a sub-tropical
climate.
At the Lake Okeechobee headquarters
an hotel has been built and many small
farmers have purchased homesteads. Mr.
Malcolm McClellan, the president of the
Florida Land Development Company of
Jacksonville, who had just made an ex-
tended survey of the route of the great
canal, told me that there was no section
of the world which could offer the gardener
and fruit-grower such possiblities as the
reclaimed black soil of the hitherto des-
pised Everglades. There is a very healthy
"boom" on already, and a sub-division
recently sold out by Mr. McClellan's
company on the south shore of the lake
will undoubtedly be all settled within the
year.
In the Florida Homeseekers' Association
are evidences of work that will mean much
for the future of the state. Large colonies
from foreign countries are locating on
their lands and building up communities
that will in the future reflect credit upon
American citizenship. Through this asso-
ciation thousands of people are migrating
to Florida and undertaking their work
with the same aggressive determination
with which the pioneers of the great West
built up a galaxy of states years ago.
Under the arrangements made with such
companies as the Florida Homeseekers'
Association, many of the handicaps of
the early colonists are obviated. Settlers
are given every assistance to get a start —
the only thing demanded by the company
is desirable settlers — settlers who will till
the soil and build up prosperous homes.
The company is under the efficient manage-
ment of Mr. Sidney B. Wood, a young man
who is thoroughly in love with the great
undertaking with which he is so promi-
nently identified, making it a true home-
seekers' enterprise in every sense of the
word. "What we want above all things,"
declared Mr. Wood, "is homeseekers —
real homeseekers. If they seek a home,
we have it for them."
* * *
Along Lake Okeechobee and the Kissim-
A FLIGHT TO THE SOUTHLAND
419
mee River, for since the days of the great
freeze, every point has been studied to
find spots in Florida immune from frost,
it has been found that in the southeast
of this body of water, which is at least
two miles wide, the oranges and other
citrus groves escape the biting northwest
winds, which are tempered in crossing a
large body of shallow water. The north-
west wind is to Florida what the east
wind is to Boston, penetrating and devas-
always with the public welfare in mind.
The great turpentine forests and large
areas of prairie land have been slow in
development, but the alluring climate
makes one forget that the dollar profits
are everything. The path is not entirely
rose-strewn; there are serious obstacles
to overcome in Florida as everywhere else,
but the permanent home spirit of the new
settlers of the last decade, a very signifi-
cant feature, forecasts a brilliant future.
JUST A BIT OF FLORIDA GRAPEFRUIT THAT MAKES A BREAKFAST RIGHT
tating. All through the state, the number
of Northerners who wish to escape
the east or cold west winds is increasing.
Many successful and thriving colonies
are being built up throughout the state.
At the famous Prosper Colony, and in
fact at many others all over the state, the
people are finding how much can be ac-
complished by building up communities
on practical, co-operative plans, rather
than in the old ways which have always
ended in ultimate dissolution. The rights
of the individual are first considered, but
When you travel in certain sections of
this great country, you have to go by
triangular routes. The longest way 'round
is the shortest way to get to Pensacola,
and many travelers bound for Jackson-
ville go by way of Montgomery. Pensa-
cola has a charm all its own. It's just
large enough to be neighborly, and the
good townsfolk are altogether charming.
When I travel through any of the states
and am given a suitcase full of books and
pamphlets telling about crops, mines,
agriculture and buildings, I am impressed
420
A FLIGHT TO THE SOUTHLAND
by the aggressiveness of the projectors;
but what appeals most to the wayfaring
editor is the people themselves. I en-
joyed every hour in Pensacola from the
moment I was whisked to the doors of
the San Carlos in a neighbor's auto, and
found myself inside of a palatial but
home-like hostelry such as even New York
might be proud of. Mural paintings that
illustrated the historic story of Pensacola
were on the walls, and in the corridors
and lobbies one met many people of
Pensacola, for the hotel was built by
subscription from nearly everybody in
the city, and each individual seems to take
a pardonable pride in it. The music was
good; the dining-room a picture of merri-
ment and good cheer — the shrimps excel-
lent. There seemed to be an atmosphere of
sociability and homeliness about the hotel ;
it was not only a stopping-place for stran-
gers, but the meeting-place of the towns-
people.
The band from the Navy Yard was
playing its bravest and best in patriotic
airs from the San Carlos balcony, while
the honored and beloved Admiral Lucien
Young was surrounded by gay groups
begging for yarns concerning old times
and far-off lands. The Mississippi-to
Atlantic Waterways Convention was in
progress. Speeches were being made at
a furious rate in the assembly room of the
hotel, and among the speakers was Con-
gressman J. Hampton Moore of Phila-
delphia, than whom a more energetic
champion of waterways never existed.
Congressman Small was in the forefront
of the oratorical battles; Senator Fletcher
was in the chair — and when it comes to
effective work in the Senate, few of the
Southern Senators have been more suc-
cessful in giving Florida what she deserves
than the senior Senator from the Land of
Enchantment. In the gathering were
representatives from St. Cloud and St.
Andrews, and other towns identified with
large colonization projects. The Southern
people "realize the vital necessity of water
transportation, and there was so much
talk about water at the meeting that
when the suggestion came from Admiral
Young to adjourn the club — the motion
was promptly carried — and more water-
ways were discussed.
Everywhere it was gratifying to hear
the splendid encomiums of the Florida
edition of the NATIONAL and to learn
that it was a regular visitor in so many
homes. On the trains and in the street-
cars, one could understand from the way
the November NATIONAL was prominent
in the public eye that there was an ener-
getic Floridian pride in the state. In
the afternoon, after visiting the city
associated with many pleasant memories,
came a trip to Fort Barrancas, an historic
fortress that goes back to Spanish days
and had its rebaptism of fire in the Civil
War. The old circular moat and moss-
grown walls with the great garrison flag
grandly fluttering down when the stars
and stripes were lowered and the evening
gun was fired at sunset, made a suggestive
picture. With so many traditions of the
storied past, is it to be wondered at that
the inhabitants who have grown up in
the shadow of the old fort should be gentle
and hospitable in spirit?
After making an annual winter trip to
Florida for many years, the allurements
of the state fasten themselves upon one.
Perhaps more people are personally in-
terested in Florida than any other state
in the Union, for every year thousands of
tourists journey southward, and most
people who once visit the state come away
with the title of a small square of land
tucked deep in the inside pocket. Irre-
spective of all its resources, the majority
of people are drawn to Florida in order to
escape the rigors of a Northern winter.
As the visit in the Land 'of Enchantment
drew to a close there was an unconscious
shiver as the "ticket for Boston" was
called for, and the overcoat collar turned up.
* * ' *
As I dally with my morsel of grape-
fruit in the morning its flavor recalls
memories of beautiful groves of the dark-
leaved, white-blossomed trees whose .gi-
gantic spheres have become a daily visi-
tant at so many breakfast tables in Ameri-
can homes. And with it come visions of
white sea-beaches, vistas of palm and
banana, thickets of odorous pineapples,
bowers of clustering roses and, most of all,
the happy faces and kindly hospitality of
friends who do not have to waste half
their strength in fighting zero weather.
THE
MUSICAL SEASON
5 IN AMERICA*
ky Artkur B* Wilson
"THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST"
E engrossing musical topic of
the hour has been provided by
Mr. Puccini. The first produc-
tion on any stage of his latest
opera, "The Girl of the Golden West," at
the Metropolitan Opera House on Saturday
evening, December 10, has set this town of
Gotham agog with arguings and disputa-
tion. There is talk of "American" and
"national" music, of the ability of a for-
eign born composer to write, and of alien
singers to interpret it, and of various
other mighty questions relevant and ir-
relevant, from "Who shall deliver us from
the curse of the ticket speculator?" to
"Who shall write us a lyric drama, that,
whatever its period, will catch the heart
of our life, the mode of our speech and the
spirit of the air we breathe?"
Whatever the merit or timeliness of
the debatable themes suggested by the
introduction of Mr. Puccini's much-antici-
pated work, this fact is indisputable.
The occasion was one of true significance.
For the first time in the history of America,
a composer of distinction had chosen to
make the first production of his work
in this country rather than in Europe.
It was a new thing under the sun that the
next day Paris, Dresden, Berlin, Milan
and Rome, cities where operas have been
produced, should be reading the dispatches
from New York of a first production of
an opera for which the entire musical
world had been waiting with eagerness.
It was also a new thing that a European
composer should have chosen for his
theme a distinctly American drama, with
locale, atmosphere and characters repre-
sentative of a definite period in our
national development, and Mr. Belasco's
play was essentially and emphatically
such. This is not unmindful that Verdi,
in his "Un Ballo in Maschera," after
being restrained by official interference
from having a king murdered, laid his
plot in the colonial period in Boston,
where the murder of a governor was of
scant importance. Bellini, in his "I Puri-
tani," also dealt in an unnatural way with
an American story; neither was indicative
of American life.
This first performance of Mr. Puccini's
new opera was notable in itself. It was
given on an extra night at redoubled
prices. There had been an unprecedented
demand for seats. On the Thursday pre-
ceding, as high as $125 apiece, and by one
account, $150, was paid for orchestra
chairs to the sidewalk traffickers who pos-
sess more acumen and less conscience.
Be it said, furthermore, that by eight
o'clock Saturday night, there were signs
of more conscience and less acumen, for
there were tickets to be had at half-price.
Manager Brown of the opera house de-
serves commendation for his efforts to
prevent this pernicious merchandizing.
To a degree he was successful.
Director Giulio Gatti-Casazza had exer-
cised great care in the preparations for
this performance. There had been nu-
merous rehearsals. The last of these had
been under the direction of Mr. David
Belasco, whose mastery of stagecraft
was constantly apparent in the elaborate
ensembles, and in the makeup and deport-
ment of the principal singers.
The latter included four of the most
able members of the company. Emmy
(421)
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
423
Destinn, the Bohemian soprano, was chosen
by Puccini to create the part of Minnie,
"The Girl"; Mr. Caruso was Johnson,
the thief, and Mr. Amato, Ranee, the
sheriff. Mr. Toscanini conducted.
The presence of the composer lent the
occasion added distinction. The audience
completely filled the theatre and was of
marked brilliance. The musical life of
the city was represented. Mmes. Nordica
and Sembrich witnessed the performance
from boxes. Scattered about in
orchestra chairs were Mr. and
Mrs. Homer, Antonio Scotti,
Alfred Hertz, Josef Hofmann,
Walter Damrosch, and
Henry Russell, of the
Boston Opera, who will
produce the opera
there later in the
season. The most
distinguished guest
was doubtless En-
gelbert Humper-
dinck, who is here
supervising the re-
hearsals of his
"Kingschildren,"
which Mr. Gatti will
produce the latter
part of this month
for the first time on
any stage.
There were repeated
curtain calls after the
first, and particularly
after the second act.
There was hearty ap-
plause for the artists and
Mr. Toscanini, but at the
appearance of Mr. Puccini and Mr.
Belasco, a mighty wave of enthusiasm
swept the house. There was another
demonstration when Mr. Puccini was
presented by Mr. Gatti with a wreath
of gold. The tumult which possessed
the audience after the great climax of
the second act was a memorable feature
of the evening to those who witnessed it.
To inquire into the structure and char-
acter of the music it is necessary first to
notice the libretto which Mr. Puccini's
collaborators, Guelfo Civinini and Carlo
Zangarini, have provided the composer
and the character of its text.
EMMY DESTINN
The Bohemian soprano who created the title
role in the new American opera, " The Girl
of the Golden West "
The action of Mr. Belasco's thrilling
melodrama of California and '49 will be
recalled as being quick, sharp, short-
breathed and incisive. The dialogue is
of like nature. It was expressive, appro-
priate, not because of its elegance and
sweep of phrase, but because of its in-
elegance, its bold and uncouth rigor.
These rugged, brawny men and this girl,
as brave and fearless as she was pure in
heart and body, talked not of interior, of
hidden, mystic or psy-
chic things, but of the
simple, the exterior, the
obvious and altogether
' human doings of life,
and I shall allude to
this later in its rela-
tion to the mu-
sic. The dialogue
of the play was
not apt for mu-
sical setting, par-
ticularly for the
long and flowing
lines of sustained
melody which
abound in Ital-
ian verse, and
are akin to the
Italian tempera-
ment.
At the outset
here was a text
which was neither vocal
nor lyric, for words
which may be delivered
effectively with the
speaking voice in a play
may appear undignified
and inconsequential when elevated to the
more intense and exacting speech of lyric
drama.
Confronted by this difficulty the li-
brettists have done what they could to
make a sympathetic Italian version of
the story which should keep the local
color as far as possible and at the same
time be vocal. To find an absolute
equivalent in the Italian for the vernacular
of these Forty-Niners was a palpable im-
possibility.
The composer's task was more diffi-
cult. His fondness and skill for intoning
long-breathed phrases for the singing
424
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
actors would often be of but slight avail.
If he would keep the dramatic dialogue
moving at its proper swiftness of pace,
he must give the voices terse, concise and
rapid recitative, by which they could
narrate the progress of the story, and to
the orchestra a flood of tone which should
bear them up, at times supersede them,
and at times break with them into em-
phasizing accent.
There is nothing new in this tendency
to write less of melody, smooth-curved
and luscious, or poignant and burning,
for the voices and more for the orchestra.
It was beginning to be his way in "Madam
Butterfly" and in "Tosca," and yet both
bear witness of the fecundity of his imagi-
nation in melody. Nor has he wholly
suppressed it now. There were ways to
arrest the action long enough to let each
principal sing at least one song of romance
and bel canto, the sheriff in the first act,
Minnie in the second and Johnson in the
third. The last is an inspired page of
sustained and spontaneous song written
in a manner worthy of Puccini, the suave
and graceful melodist. There is an aria
by Wallace, the negro minstrel in the
first act, and, in the second, for Wowkle,
Billy's squaw, a hymn to the Sungod, by
Wowkle, Billy's squaw, which has no
particular Indian characteristics or color.
Although the story of Mr. Belasco's
drama may not be forgotten by those who
witnessed the play, it may be well to note
the skeleton of the plot with what changes
have been introduced for the sake of
operatic treatment.
Minnie has inherited from her father
the tavern known as "The Polka." Here
the miners gather to play cards, drink
their whiskey, attend "school," kept by
"The Girl," and, like feudal lords in their
mountain fastnesses, to hold a court
about her, as chivalrous in deference, as
unimpeachable in honor, as any of the
time of Charlemagne.
The principal event of the first act is
the arrival of Johnson, whom Minnie
remembers to have met one day on the
road to Monteray. All that precedes or
follows — the brawling, the arrival of the
post with letters for the boys, and
Ranee's declaration of love — is but em-
bellishment. Minnie inspires Johnson with
a sincere admiration for her, which is a
new and strange emotion to him. When
he has gone, she stands under the spell of
his words.
The second act takes place in Minnie's
cabin. Johnson arrives at her invitation.
After introductory episodes, which include
Wowkle's mildly Indian melody, and
Minnie's telling of the out-of-door joys
of her life, and of its loneliness, Johnson
declares his love, if insistence upon a kiss
be such, and there is a scene of passion
and intensity.
Ranee, the sheriff, who loves Minnie
madly, and in vain, who saw her prefer-
ence for Johnson in the tavern, and is
sullen with jealousy, comes to the cabin
believing that Johnson is the Ramerrez
he desires, and that he is in hiding there.
Minnie has secreted Johnson behind the
curtains of her bed and diverts the sheriff's
suspicion. He and his posse leave, but
not until he has taunted her by revealing
her lover's identity, and as proof, by pro-
ducing a picture of him secured from his
former mistress, who has betrayed him.
Minnie, flaming with anger and deep
resentment, arraigns Johnson with his
treachery, and commands him to leave
her. He pleads for the extenuation of
his guilt, but she is inexorable. He
staggers out into the raging snowstorm
and a shot is heard. There is a sound of
a body falling against the door. Minnie
opens it. As deeply consumed now by
the power of her love as a moment before
by that of her hatred, she drags in the
wounded man, and compels him to climb
to safety in the loft above.
Ranee arrives this time determined he
has located his game. Minnie again evades
him and spurns his love. As the sheriff
stands at the door with an eloquent
gesture, there occurs the striking inci-
dent upon which turns the progress of the
drama. Upon his outstretched hand he
discovers a drop of blood, one of Mr.
Belasco's exquisite but potent devices
which cross the chasm of the footlights
and grip an audience.
The wonder of it is that Mr. Puccini,
master of stagecraft and of orchestral
effect that he is, has not caught the
theatric value of this subtle bit of play
upon the stage, which at best is none too
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
425
obvious, and has not revealed and em-
phasized it by some sudden, incisive stroke
in his orchestra. The sustained phrase
in the horn against an unbroken series
of accenting and accompanying chords
cannot be said to characterize.
Minnie's wager with Ranee for the game
in which she "stacks" her cards, and wins
release for Johnson and for herself, as
far as Ranee is concerned, are well-re-
membered, swift-moving events of the
second act and the heart of the drama.
The third act of the opera instead of
being set in the tavern takes place in a
noble forest of great trees with
a range of the Sierras in the
distance. This scene in
the Metropolitan produc-
tion was of such beauty
that upon the rising of
the curtain its audience
broke into applause.
Ranee is obliged by his
oath to refrain from the
chase of Johnson, and
must therefore content
himself to remain near
the footlights, keep the
narrative going either by
dialogue or soliloquy,
and to smoke huge and
fumiferous cigars. Meanwhile
his henchmen, on foot and
horseback, pursue the hounded
man, who apparently has a way
of roaming first upon one side
of the stage, then on the other,
thus necessitating the passing and repass-
ing of the full hue and cry. It is the
apotheosis of lurid melodrama, and as
done at the Metropolitan was a master-
piece of ensemble, of illusion, and of the
craft of the stage.
Johnson is at last brought into sight
a captive, and the gang is about to lynch
him when Minnie's cries are heard. She
alights from a galloping horse, defies the
captors, then wins them to grant her the
life of her lover, and the two depart as
she sings farewell to her California.
Such is the thread of the story. It is
built upon a theme as old as history, the
redemption of man through the over-
powering, the triumphant love of woman,
the one principle of the world that has
MR. TOSCANINI
Who conducted the initial
performance of " The Girl
of the Golden West "
held him above the level of the beast,
and given him the rank of a king.
Wagner glorified it in the triumph of
Elizabeth's pure love over that of the
sensuous Venus in "Tannhauser," and in
the devotion even unto death of Senta
in "The Flying Dutchman." It is a theme
big with the realities, the passions, the
heartbeat of human life. It is not con-
fined to rude miners and a brave woman,
true to herself in the grim, tense days of
early California, when men "struggled,
laughed, gambled, cursed, killed, loved,
and worked out their strange destinies
in a manner incredible to us
of today." Elemental passion
has shaken the world in
every clime, but this
drama has a clear identi-
ty, an individual color, a
definite nationality. It is
permeated by the breezy,
wholesome resonance and
tang of glorious moun-
tains, noble trees and fine
pure air.
It deals with men and
one woman who live out-
wardly and with exulting
prowess in this essentially
physical world. There is
a touch of the soul in the
lesson scene — safely enough
transplanted from the third
act of the drama to the first
of the opera — when Minnie
tries to teach these gruff,
big-hearted "boys" something of the
story of redemption through love. If
they comprehend, it is probably a version
of the respect and the love they bear this
girl. Again, Johnson's conversation, his
more worldly wise ways and knowledge
of life awaken deep within Minnie a
dumb striving, a longing for something
better than the tavern and its barter,
which she begins to realize is sordid. And
she never had but "thirty-two dollars
worth of education." The exaltation
and sweep of her love is the great spiritual
element of the play, and this she reveals
in bold superb strokes of heroic procla-
mation and accomplishment.
This is not a drama of intricate, subtle
and interior process and analysis of soul
426
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
Its psychology lies near to, or wholly
upon the surface. It is often as elemental
as nature itself.
Such is the controlling, the communi-
cating spirit of the play. What of Mr.
Puccini's music? To first sum up gener-
ally its traits, there are to be noted several
things. He has subscribed very heavily,
indeed, in the whole tone scale which
divides an octave, like all Gaul, into three
equal parts, in which half steps and minor
thirds shall be no more. He has become
very fond o:
acute and un-
palliated dis-
cord. When
Minnie puts
on the tight
party shoes
before John-
son's arrival,
she does so to
the sound of a
diatonic series
of bald chords
of parallel
sevenths. The
major seventh
has no terrors
for Mr. Puc-
cini. He has
secured a very
striking effect
at the close
of the first act
where he has
mirrored the
voices of aspi-
ration and the
wild longing with which Johnson inspires
Minnie, by a vanishing chord of the
unresolved major seventh upon the tonic
of C major. There is a pungently acute
passage in consecutive seconds in trumpets,
clashing upon each other, as Minnie
rushes in to save her lover, but in these
and other instances, the music sounds.
It spurs the emotion and bears it to the
hearers. Mr. Puccini has also made use
of constant variation of tempo and of
rhythm. He has kept the pace of the
drama.
He has used a sonorous and resourceful
orchestra. The score calls for a piccolo,
three flutes, three oboes, English horn,
Courtesy of the
Victor Talking Machine Company
three clarinets, bass clarinet, three bas-
soons, contra bassoon, four horns, three
trumpets, four trombones, two harps,
glockenspiel, celeste, bass drum, cymbals,
tambourine, triangle, fonica (an arrange-
ment of bells in B, E, and B, the two B's
being on the first space above the bass,
and the middle line of the treble clefs
respectively), and the usual strings. The
composer has mixed his tints of orchestral
color with skill and with that peculiar
note of personality which characterizes
him. He has shown himself a cunning,
resourceful master of dramatizing music.
Of the less technical traits, the observer
of his score and the auditor at the per-
formances notice at once the elaborate
system of leading motifs which he has
employed. There is a "redemption"
theme proclaimed sonorously at the be-
ginning of the short introduction. There
is a theme announced by oboe soon
after the first curtain, indicative of Minnie.
A variant of it, acutely harmonized, re-
turns at her appearance and is identified
with her. It is repeated when she begs
for her lover's life in the last act. Johnson
has a succession of vigorous chords in
"rag-time," whatever the aspersion in-
tended upon his character may be. Ranee
has a brutal and insistent motif, and when
entering Minnie's cabin there sounds a
suggestion of the crunching, implacable
chords of the Scarpia theme in "Tosca,"
a group of tones which seem essential to
Puccini, for they are to be found in "La
Boheme" and in "Madam Butterfly."
There is a "homesick" theme sung by
Wallace, the negro minstrel, and there is
even a theme for Billy Jackrabbit, the
Indian. These characterizing melodic and
harmonic figures are dressed in varying
designs and are worked over with skill
and effectiveness.
The diminishing use of melody in the
voices, and the substitution of dramatic
narration of the story has been spoken
of. The nearest approach to set aria
may be found in the minstrel's song, in
Minnie's account in rather florid style,
in act two, of her joy of riding her pony
through the valley and her love of the
mountains, and in Johnson's superb ro-
manza in the last act when death impends.
There is one frank and undisguised
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
427
"tune," which is already whistled about
town as though it were floating funny
verses and a catchy chorus at some
musical show. One of the most obvious
signs of the composer's clever use of
derived themes is his development of
this tune, with the quality of the dance
hall upon it, into a series of lovely com-
mentaries upon the love element of the
story. If the patriotic American were
to search through Mr. Puccini's score to
find a hint, a suggestion, a chance earmark
of his native land, or of the time and
circumstance of the drama, this meagre
and sentimental succession of notes as
first heard before its metamorphoses is
approximately the extent of his reward.
Will he not find an echo of an Indian
melody, a few shreds or patches of "Yankee
Doodle" or "The Star Spangled Banner"?
Verily, he will not. Of course Puccini
has used the latter in "Madam Butterfly,"
but the last word has not been irrevocably
said with it, if I am not mistaken in
Frederick Converse's score of "The Sacri-
fice," another opera of California and the
late 40 's which Boston proposes to bring
to light in February.
It is to be granted that Mr. Puccini
has often written music for his orchestra
which betokens and emphasizes the inci-
dent, which magnifies and proclaims the
emotion and the mood. He has done the
first in the tense and hammering heart-
beats of the muttering double basses as
Minnie plays her last and victorious
hand before the sheriff bids her "Good-
night" and leaves her, and he has done
the second in the towering climax of over-
whelming passion which follows.
But the fact remains that for the greater
part of the three acts, the orchestra and
the impressions which it creates are of
one world, and the stage with its appeal
to the eye of another. The drama is
not a tale of sophistication, of interior
nor mystical feeling. The music from the
very outset is such. Just what the rela-
tion between the science of acoustics and
the temperamental or suggestive proper-
ties of music may be as applied to the
whole tone scale, that subtle and appalling
mode of speech, containing the words
of both unearthly beauty and terrible
foreboding, is yet to be determined.
It is hard to conceive how anything
could be more expressive of Maeterlinck's
"Pelleas and Melisande" than Debussy's
score with his use of it, but Maeterlinck
had written of people who lived as in
the hush of a dream apart, in solitudes
peopled by strange and mysterious powers,
[ Photo by Mishkin Studio
MME. CARMEN MELIS
Soprano at the Boston Opera House, where her Tosca
has excited admiration. Mme. Melis will sing the part
of Minnie in the production of "The Girl of the Golden
West" to be made by the Boston company this month
untroubled by a sheriff, whiskey, poker,
the}, scramble for dollars even uncoined,
and.the prospect of lynchings.
F- It is an essentially human quality that
Mr. Puccini's music too often lacks. It
delineates feeling at times with great
power, but not always as it would be known
to men who are gruff, outspoken, square-
from-the-shoulder, and yet tender.
He has written of a form of life, and
of a type of people that are wholly strange
428
SLEEP SWEET
to him, and has no doubt tried to infuse
local color into the writing. But the
inevitable constraint is frequently appar-
ent. A man's sympathies cannot be in-
digenous to every soil or clime. Italy is
not what the West was in its sturdy and
incorrigible infancy. "The Girl of the
Golden West" has been called an American
opera. It is nothing of the sort. It is
indeed composed of a typically and
representative American drama dressed
up and served with much of the flavor
of an Italian music melodrama, itself
strongly seasoned with the acrid har-
monies of the modern French school,
but it is not consistently American in
character.
There is a place for the whole tone
scale and its haunting, elusive spell, but
when by means of it, Minnie tells Joe,
Harry, Happy and the rest of them that
"there's no sinner who can't find the way
of redemption," she is limiting salvation
to sinners of fastidious and sophisticated
tastes. This is but one of moments in
which the music sounds strangely labored,
aloof, complex and out of tune with the
situation. There are too many pages
which seem an irrelevant and incongruous
accompaniment to sombreros, flannel shirts,
cowhide boots and the rough and ready
talk of miners. There are others tran-
scending thought of nationalism or
"school," which make direct, untram-
meled and forceful appeal to the emotions.
The success of this opera with the public
is to be determined. Its presentation
was admirable. Miss Best inn warranted
the composer's choice of her to create
the part. Mr. ' Caruso acted with sur-
prising appreciation of the role and sang
superbly. Mr. Amato gave a splendidly
balanced performance in voice and im-
personation. Mr. Toscanini conducted
with the poetic spirit and the authority
which characterizes him. The stage man-
agement throughout was commendable.
When the opera is produced in Boston,
Mme. Carmen Melis will sing the role of
"the Girl." In the production by the
Chicago company, it will be taken by
Miss Carolina White, a young singer from
Boston.
Whatever the objection may be to the
music as an exotic product, the proba-
bility is that if Mr. Caruso has oppor-
tunity to sob out enough high notes,
in phrases arched as the rainbow, then
it matters not whether the atmosphere
or the suggestion of the music be that of
Milan, Singapore or the distant isles of
the sea. There will be a golden west in
the box office, and in the theatre the noise
of applause, as the sound of many waters.
Therefore we shall soon be a musical
people, and this is all as it should be.
SLEEP SWEET
Sleep sweet within this quiet room,
0 thou, whoe'er thou art,
And let no mournful yesterdays
Disturb thy quiet heart.
Nor let tomorrow scare thy'rest
With dreams of coming ill;
Thy Maker is thy changeless friend;
His love surrounds thee still.
Forget thyself, and all the world;
Put out each feverish light;
The stars are watching overhead;
Sleep sweet, good-night! good-night!
Ellen M. H. Gates, in "Heart Throbs."
flll MONH
ERHAPS it is the
holiday s e a s o n—
when one naturally
thinks of forests of Christmas
trees and oceans of toys — that makes the
children so prominent a factor during the
Christmas and New Year's holidays. At
other times they may be overlooked, but
just now the youngsters represent the
"prime factor" in every household.
The different lists this month give evi-
dence of special effort to entertain the
young people, not by means of nonsensical,
farcical dialect pieces, but through selec-
tions truly educative. Possibly the various
companies have been doing this good work
right along, and parents may already have
taken advantage of the opportunity af-
forded their young folk through this
medium — it may be that the season and
sentiment were necessary to bring the
matter to my personal attention.
Be that as it may, "Little Orphant
Annie" on the Victor, "Santa Claus'
Workshop" on the Columbia, and the
act from "Uncle Tom's Cabin" on the
Edison list, show that the younger genera-
tion is now being duly considered even
in the selection of musical records.
* * *
The special Christmas numbers on the
holiday Victor list— Adams's "The Star
of Bethlehem," and "Every Valley Shall
be Exalted," and "Comfort Ye My People"
from Handel's "Messiah"— will have a
universal welcome. They are faultlessly
recorded on twelve-inch Red Seal records,
and sung by the well-known tenor, Evan
Williams.
Kipling admirers will appreciate Wither-
spoon's rendition of "Rolling down to
Rio," also on the Red Seal list.
Quite excellent on the flute is
Pessard's "Andalouse," played
by John Lemmone, who, -t will be re-
membered, is accompanying Mme. Melba
on her American tour.
Two cperatic medleys are offered by
the Victor Light Opera Company; gems
from "Our Miss Gibbs" and from "Oli-
vette." The "Alma" duet from "Alma,
Where do you Live," still playing at
Weber's on Broadway, is decidedly "late"
and well sung by Miss Barbour and Mr.
Anthony. Direct from stageland, also,
are "I'm Fancy Free" from "Girl in the
Train," and "Mary" from "Our Miss
Gibbs."
Harry Lauder in "Wee Jean MacGregor"
is as usual acceptable. The medley
"River Shannon," with themes of "My
Cousin Caruso," "Lily of the Prairie"
and "Where the River Shannon Flows"
makes an excellent two-step.
Children and grown-ups alike will be
delighted with the recording of James
Whitcomb Riley's "Little Orphant Annie"
—also Holman Day's "Aunt Shaw's Pet
Jug,"— on double-disc No. 16831, recited
by that inimitable entertainer, Henry
Allan Price. I cannot too strongly urge
on both the Victor company and the
parents in Victor homes, a continuation
and an appreciation, respectively, of this
sort of record.
For the youngster at school who dreads
"Recitation Day" with its endless pre-
paratory rehearsal at the hands of "Ma"
or "Teacher" so that inflections and
expression may be correct, a record such
as this is of strong educational value.
The "swing" of the selection will be learned
(431)
432
MUSICAL RECORDS FOR THE MONTH
after putting the cylinder on two or three
times, and the youthful speaker who has
mounted the platform and poured forth
his soul according to the manner of the
talking-machine artist, will always be
called upon on "Visiting Day," "Friday
afternoon" or other momentous occasions
when the "best speaker" is in demand.
* * *
"Santa Claus' Workshop" on the Co-
lumbia list ought to delight the little
ones; it tells all about the room where
the jolly patron of Christmas wields
hammer and anvil to form the toys which
he scatters throughout the land at Yule-
tide. It is placed on a double-disc record
with "Christmas Bells," an excellent
violin and harp duet.
Another good Christmas record is A918,
double-disc, containing that impressive
old Christmas carol, "The First Nowell,"
rendered by the Invincible Male Quartette,
and "Medley of Christmas Carols," Co-
lumbia Brass Quartette. The latter
organization is an acquisition to the
Columbia ranks, and its novelty alone
ensures for it a favorable reception.
Just now one can interest folks as at
no other time in music solemn and sacred —
the season seems to require it, or the spirit
of Yuletide to create it. Here, then, are
Anthony & Harrison, whose specialty is
in this field, in "Some Sweet Day By-and-
By," the well-known gospel hymn.
"Adeste Fideles" has been excellently
arranged on the opposite face, as sung by
the Columbia Mixed Quartette.
There are a couple of very good holiday
selections on the two and four-minute
indestructible lists: "Around the Christ-
mas Tree," band and children's voices;
"Christmas Echoes," Band and Quartette.
The "hits" of Chas. K. Harris make a
creditable showing when gathered to-
gether. Double-disc record No. A926
gives them in medley form, played by
Prince's Orchestra. I note that only
Mr. Harris's late songs are included;
those old favorites, such as "Always in
the Way," seem at last to have been suc-
cessfully shelved.
The announcement that Liszt's "Hun-
garian Rhapsody" (No. 2, Parts I and II)
has been recorded by Prince's Band will
be appreciated by all students of that
great composer. His series of fifteen
rhapsodies is one of the best in representa-
tive national music.
It seems good to have something from
Raymond Hitchcock. "And the World
Goes On" and "Ain't It Funny What a
Difference Just a Few Hours Make?" are
well suited to his style.
* * *
Every Edison owner should have at
least one of the Christmas records on the
December list. There are three excellent
selections; "Bells of Christmas," Edison
Concert Band and Chorus; "The Birth-
day of a King," James F. Harrison and
Mixed Chorus; "The Angels' Song,"
Edison Concert Band and Chorus. Then
there is that charming sacred song, "Sweet
Spirit, Hear My Prayer," as sung by Miss
Marie Narelle.
The good work being done by Len
Spencer & Company has been mentioned
before; this month, in the first act of
"Uncle Tom's Cabin," he is wonderfully
good. The complete cast of characters
is represented — St. Clare, Aunt Ophelia,
Eva, Uncle Tom and Topsy herself, be-
sides banjos and other accompaniments
which make things as realistic as possible.
Our old friend, "Uncle Josh," is back
after going through the pangs of "roo-
matics," which he vividly describes. Cal
Stewart is a true impersonator, and is
very welcome again.
Among xylophone artists, Mr. Charles
Daab has an enviable reputation. That
very difficult fantasia, "The Mocking
Bird," is rendered by him this month,
and is quite pleasing on the xylophone.
Indian songs were quite the thing half
a decade ago, but though the demand has
for a year or two been somewhat on the
wane, occasionally something really good
comes up from the music publishers. The
Edison people have recorded a little Indian
love melody of Kerry Mills, "Valley
Flower," sung by Frederic H. Potter and
Chorus.
Selections from "The Wizard of the
Nile," one of Victor Herbert's best operas,
are offered on Amberol Record No. 569.
The Grand Opera list has been selected
with especial care. There are selections
by Slezak, Jorn, Giorgini, Mile. Bori and
Miss Kurz.
WHAT CO-OPERATION MEANS
By MITCHELL MANNERING
E MILLION persons receiving each
month and sometimes twice a month
a letter from a single concern is a startling
revelation of modern business and indus-
trial life. It is an indication of many
things, chief among which is this: That
the small investor is glad of the opportunity
to participate in the profits of approved
enterprises which are brought to his at-
tention through the personally addressed
letters of a substantial house.
A corporation that writes to a million
persons at least once every month is the
product of an age of concentration. Capi-
talists have for years cliqued together for
greater profits to themselves and the
exclusion of the man of little capital. But
a great power has always been in the
hands of the men of average capital.
When the persons with small sums to
invest do combine their capital, they have
a fund able to set up in business to com-
pete with any power, to take advantage
of any money-making opportunity if a
means for safely and intelligently select-
ing investments is at hand. Here enter
the Sterling Debenture Corporation which
though only in the fifth year of its life
has risen to be the largest corporation
of its kind in the world. It has become a
tremendous power because it discerned
one need of the American people in the
matter of investments. The founder be-
lieved in the good common sense of the
Ameiican people and they have returned
his confidence.
But to bring the individual investor in
touch with great financial and business
enterprises and to give the man of small
means the opportunity to participate
according to his capital in such projects
as have hitherto chiefly benefitted the
millionaires of Wall Street was a task
beset with many difficulties. It was a
slow process for the promoters through
the mails of legitimate and practical
enterprises to overcome the natural re-
sentment and distrust engendered by the
old school of capitalists. It took courage
and money and patience and no end of
hard work to raise up a business along
lines that had for years been misused
and abused, and to stand pat until the
whole public should be able to discern
the unmistakable signs of sincerity and
fair dealing. This the Sterling Debenture
Corporation of New York City has done —
created a national investment place for
all peoples, an institution so founded and
managed that its securities are entirely
out of the speculative field and cannot
be reached by the machinery of Wall
Street. Such an organization partakes
of the spirit of democracy and is typical
of republican America.
As a guest of the Board of Directors
of the Sterling Debenture Corporation
at a noonday luncheon in their offices
in the Brunswick Building, Madison
Square, a glance at my hosts solved the
mystery of how so great an organization
had so quickly grown from obscurity to
the prominence of a corporation whose
patrons are to be found not only in practi-
cally every city and village in the United
States but whose clientele extends to
Europe and even to China and the isles
of the sea. These men who had set an
ideal and pushed to the front in spite of
the most strenuous and unsparing an-
tagonism, are all in the prime of life, full
of vigor and courage and the resolution
that sticks. Possessed with individual
traits and gifts of administration, they con-
stantly make their energies still more effect-
ive by maintaining a perfect unanimity.
Before this directorate, including as it
does men of exceptional qualifications
for various divisions of the work, and
possessing a diversified type of mentality
and temperament, a proposition once up
for discussion goes through a process quite
out of the ordinary. The light is thrown
upon it from every possible angle. Out
(433)
434
WHAT CO-OPERATION MEANS
of a rich experience in varied fields, the
members of the directorate are able, as
a board, to gain many points of view.
From their corps of helpers they, if need
be, can draw an infinite number of side-
lights. Yet all this power of penetration
is not final. Before the Sterling consents
to offer the stocks or bonds of any corpora-
tion to its correspondents it practically
exhausts the field of investigation by
running down the last detail; by calling
to its aid and giving free lance to inde-
pendent experts in various lines. If an
undertaking passes the Sterling process
of investigation and still stands strong
as something worthy the confidence of
investors, then the skill, the strength,
the buoyant optimism of the whole organ-
ization is devoted to making it a success.
Many organizations have been carried
to fruition by the Sterling Debenture
Corporation, but its greatest work has been
the introduction of the Telepost to the
favorable consideration of the whole
people. The Telepost is the new system
of telegraphy which is making telegrams
as common as postal cards. The Tele-
post sends by machine a thousand words
a minute over a telegraph wire, which
rate of speed is a long step in advance
when it is recalled that the old method of
sending telegrams relies upon hand opera-
tion with an average speed of only fifteen
words a minute. The Telepost can send
more messages over one wire under its
system than can be sent by sixty-five
wires under the old system which other
companies are using. The lines already
established demonstrate that the Tele-
post can handle messages at a lower rate
than any other telegraph company in
the world, making a charge of only ten
cents for a ten- word "Telecard" trans-
mitted by wire and delivered by postal
card at destination; twenty-five cents
for a twenty-five-word telegram, de-
livered by messenger; twenty-five cents
for a fifty-word "Telepost" delivered by
mail at destination; twenty-five cents for
a one-hundred-word "Teletape" delivered
by messenger. The Telepost has a uni-
form rate for all connected points such
as the government has for its rates of
postage. No wonder then that the Tele-
post met the monopolistic opposition
when it started out, and no wonder that
public sentiment is with it, now that the
people see their opportunity either as
investors or simply as patrons of an im-
proved system of telegraphy. All these
facts are, however, well known to the
hosts of people who are already interested
in this great project, either as stockholders
or as altruistic co-operators in the up-
building of what has come to be regarded
as a people's institution.
During the last year the Telepost has
been extending its lines over the Middle
West and has been most heartily wel-
comed. Public sentiment and the good
reports that the cities using the Telepost
service are enthusiastically sending on
before it, are now effectually offsetting
the opposition that was hurled at it from
the beginning. Boston, Portland, Louis-
ville, Indianapolis, Kansas City, Omaha,
St. Louis and Chicago are already centers
for Telepost business.
The Telepost has been founded on an
unusual plan. Its stock is apportioned by
states and so widely distributed that it
will be impossible for any trust or mo-
nopoly to get control of it. The number
of shares each person may hold is limited.
But to make still more certain that the
Telepost shall remain a free and inde-
pendent institution giving one rate be-
tween all points and that rate so low that
it makes telegrams available for all, a
Board of Voting Trustees has been formed.
The Board of Voting Trustees is a later-
day modification of the Tribune of old.
It is an institution of public-spirited men
each of whom is armed with the veto
power — the power to forbid any action
tending toward the impairment of the
independence of this telegraph company.
The Telepost must perforce remain a
free and independent concern without
merger or alliance with the telegraph
trust.
The great test of the merit of a new
utility is its power to develop new busi-
ness. The Telepost has the magic of
developing new business. The railroad,
the steamship, the telegraph, the tele-
phone, the typewriter, the adding ma-
chine— all these utilities in their own way
attracted new business. The Telepost
in its own way developed a new class of
WHAT CO-OPERATION MEANS
435
business, and it will gain more and more
business as the system is extended. What
it has already done and what it is doing
have demonstrated that the business await-
ing this company in every part of the
United States is of a volume that can
only be compared with the post office
business.
Mr. H. Lee Sellers, the president of
the Telepost Company, is a man of marked
ability and his work in bringing the sub-
ject before Congress when an entrance
into the District of Columbia was desired
showed his strong administrative ability.
Recurring to the Sterling Debenture
Corporation itself: the directors of many
corporations meet occasionally. The di-
rectors of the Sterling Debenture Corpora-
tion hold a meeting every day. Theirs
is a directorate that truly directs. Some
directorates are constantly in touch with
the affairs of the corporations, the Ster-
ling's directorate is constantly pushing
its affairs. No one could meet this board
of directors without becoming infected
with the enthusiasm which they give to
the great projects they have carried to
success. The whole organization blazes
with initiative and optimism born of
sincerity of purpose. But it is not a blind
optimism. It is balanced with a knowl-
edge of cause and effect.
F. W. Shumaker is the chairman of the
board of directors that includes G. H.
Middlebrook, C. B. Seabury, S. E. Findley,
E. A. Barren, W. S. Edwards and H. H.
Platt.
The tremendous amount of literature
sent out by this corporation every day
furnishes a study in. business methods
that might save many a business house
large sums. An immense organization
of this kind, run like a factory, cuts off
expenses at every turn and sometimes in
almost bewildering fashion. Expenses
that in the ordinary office organization,
however large that organization may be,
cannot be forced below a certain figure
are in this factory-like office pared down
as efficiency is forced up. The Sterling
Debenture Corporation, by dealing with
millions through a system that is marvel-
ously economical (where costs and profits
are in every minute matter known to a
certainty) makes money by saving money
that individuals or small firms working
along similar lines could not avoid spend-
ing. As an illustration, the saving of
ten seconds on the part of one typist
addressing one letter means, when ap-
plied to all typists and all letters that are
sent out in the course of a year, thousands
of dollars.
The keynote of the literature of the
Sterling Debenture Corporation is sin-
cerity. There is no straining for effect,
no eccentricities to attract attention. The
old rule to "call a spade a spade," to begin
at* A, tell the facts to Z and then stop,
prevails. The literature stands in a class
of itself, and has been adopted in at least
one college as an example and model of
what sound and profitable advertising
should be.
All men recognize the ring of sincerity
whether the word drops from the lips or
is printed on paper, and that is why men
like to read the literature of the Sterling;
and more and more are coming to prefer
that investment opportunities be brought
to their attention through the mails. By
this method they can give as much or
as little time as they choose to the subject.
They can put the salesman who comes
in an envelope into a pocket, and consider
what he has to say as they travel, or in
the quiet of the home after the rush of
the day is over. The salesman who walks
and talks may be a diplomat or a hypnotist,
but the offer to sell that comes on paper
is down "in black and white."
The salesman who walks and talks and
is able to get an audience with many men
and able to present his case with as much
conciseness as is done in a booklet com-
mands a salary that may reach and often
does reach twenty thousand dollars a
year, besides very heavy traveling ex-
penses. The "salesman" who is dispatched
in an envelope, goes to the farthermost
point of the country for two cents and no
matter how many fruitless calls this com-
mercial envoy may make, this form of
solicitation is vastly more economical
than would be the employment of personal
representatives. An institution, able to
do business through the mails with cus-
tomers all over the world, has a long ad-
vantage over other institutions that are
obliged to add to the selling costs large
436
FOR ALL THESE
salaries and the traveling expenses of
many men.
The Sterling plan of business, conduct-
ing its dealings through the mails, gives
the small investor his chance to participate
in the profits of big undertakings. In
the past the average man had no such
chance. "To him that hath shall be given
and to him that hath not shall be taken
away, even that which he hath," seemed
to many luckless investors to have special
application to their attempts to place
modest sums in positions of earning ad-
vantage.
Those who have watched closely during
the past five years the gradual building
up of this institution are forced to the
conclusion that the Sterling Debenture
Corporation's sound methods in financing
must exercise a general and wholesome
influence upon the entire financial world.
The old idea that "corporations have no
souls," and cannot be held by the same
standards of morals and ethics that ob-
tain between men as individuals, is fast
giving way to the truer conception that
the same code applies with equal force,
whether the relations are between man
and man, or nation and nation or corpora-
tion and individual.
Success is always impressive, and when
men and institutions in the past built
up material success on the avowed theory
that "business is business, and must not
be hampered by a too finely ethical
analysis," the tendency was to unsettle
the convictions and lower the standards
of the young man ambitious to make him-
self felt in the business world. Therefore,
amid all this, to see the Sterling, from its
foundation of old-fashioned direct deal-
ing, rising up to national greatness is to
witness a triumph worthy the thought
and attention of all men.
FOR ALL THESE
I THANK Thee, Lord, that I am straight and strong,
* With wit to work and hope to keep me brave;
That two score years, unfathomed, still belong
To the alloted life Thy bounty gave.
I thank Thee that the sight of sunlit lands
And dipping hills, the breath of evening grass —
That wet, dark rocks and flowers in my hands ^
Can give me daily gladness as I pass.
I thank Thee that I love the things of Earth-
Ripe fruits and laughter, lying down to sleep,
The shine of lighted towns, the graver worth
Of beating human hearts that laugh and weep.
I thank Thee that as yet I need not know,
Yet need not fear the mystery of end;
But more than all, and though all these should go —
Dear Lord, this on my knees — I thank Thee for my friend.
—Juliet Wilbor Tompkins, in the book "Heart Throbs."
ONAL
A Z I N E
FEBRUARY, 1911
en PS
HINGTON
Joe Mitche
HE good Saint Valentine,
patron of timid and sepa-
rated lovers, plays his part
in statecraft; for when two
men like President Taft
and Colonel Roosevelt
correspond in hearty words of personal
greeting, despite what may be fancied
by the public as strained relations, the
subtle influence of an exchange of written
missives means much.
Saint Valentine's day is the one holiday
that finds the Washington social season
at its zenith. The custom, handed down
from the days of General Washington
and on through Jeffersonian times, of
sending invitations with all the punctilious-
ness of court etiquette, has been continued.
Formal invitations, receptions and balls are
an important factor in that complex code
of politesse known as "Washington usage."
What might be called disrespectful in
one nation is with others complimentary.
It was an Englishman, so the story goes,
who felt quite indignant when he was given
a note of introduction proclaiming him
"a good fellow."
"Why, I say," he expostulated, " 'good
fellow' — 'good fellow'! — why, that means a
perfect rounder, doncherknow — a bounder,
a sport! Ton honor, but that fellow
presumes!"
So upon the delicacy of word meanings
hinges the effect of correspondence, whether
it be the endearing adjectives profusely
scattered through the valentine's burden
of passionate verse, or the carefully
qualifying phrases of a legal document;
for the accepted meaning of the written
word remains after all its final and perma-
nent record.
""THE old-fashioned valentine is as
*• popular in Washington today as of
yore. The small boy impels his childish
shaft of satire through the mail at
"teacher," and the little, fluffy, lace-like
valentine with "raised work" still has a
popular place in Uncle Sam's mailbags.
Although the valentine mail is not as
heavy as at Christmas, there is incon-
trovertible evidence that the old-time
sentiment still clusters about the feast of
Saint Valentine's.
The billions of post cards sent out for
holiday greetings have had much to do
with decreasing the postal deficit. It is
estimated that every man, woman and
child sent out during the Christmas
season at least ten picture post cards,
and on every one of these was placed a
one-cent stamp. The sale of this denomi-
nation is said to be surpassing all previous
(407J
408
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
records, and is substantially cutting down
the deficit.
The fact that President Taft is corres-
ponding amicably with Colonel Roosevelt
is looked upon as meaning an exchange
of political valentines, leading to a peace-
pact between the factions of the Repub-
lican party, in its preparations for the
presidential battle of 1912.
Photo by Clinedinst
MISS ALICE WHITE
Youngest daughter of Chief Justice and Mrs. White.
She makes her debut this season in Washington
SOME men are so hungry for informa-
tion that they'll sit up nights with the
dictionary to find a new word that will
fit a phrase to apply to some enemy!"
growled a Representative the other day
as he was deep in a pile of books trying
to trace the origin of a phrase which had
been effectively used in an investigation.
Mr. Richard H. Thornton has made an
exhaustive research of those Americanisms
which increase in number yearly. First
called slang, they later became words or
phrases in modern usage. One of the most
significant phrases described is "barking up
the wrong tree," which originated in 1833
with Davy Crockett. He was talking about
the meanest man he ever knew, and said:
"I told him he reminded me of the meanest
thing on God's earth — an old coon dog
barking up the wrong tree." Three years
later his use of the expression was again
set down: "Job, little dreaming that he
was barking up the wrong tree, shoved
along another bottle." It wasn't until
1838 that the phrase found its place in the
Congressional Record, when Mr. Duncan
of Ohio exclaimed: "Instead of having
treed their game, gentlemen will find
themselves still 'barking up the wrong
tree.' "
"Riffle," "make the riffle," "right away,"
"all right on the goose," etc., have now
found themselves permanently located
in the American glossary of pure Ameri-
canisms.
""THE political pendulum has swung to
* the other side in the House of Repre-
sentatives. What was known as the
"Cherokee strip" — in which the overflow
of Republicans from the right of the
chamber was placed with the Democrats
on the left — has now been displaced and
the Democrats of the left have been in-
vited over to the Republican side of the
chamber, which the recent elections have
left somewhat bare and desolate. The
"Cherokee strip" may be regarded as
the barometer of party fluctuations.
With fifty Republican and forty-two
Democratic senators, the parties have
started fairly even in the new Congress.
Senator LaFollette, together with his
multifarious collection of papers, pencils,
books and pens, has moved over to the
Republican side, and it is felt that this
close association will lead to still further
harmonious relations.
VV7HENEVER it is my good fortune to
™ meet anyone who after a long life
can recall vividly those things which are
known only in the pages of history, a new
perspective of p^st events is obtained. On
the pension roll one name goes back to the
days of 1776 — the daughter of a soldier
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
409
in Washington's army. There are also
living pensioners of the war of 1812 and
the Mexican War; and when I sat down for
a chat with John Porter of Iowa, who re-
membered when Henry Clay, John C.
Calhoun and Daniel Webster walked down
the aisle of the old Senate Hall, when
Abraham Lincoln was known only in his
congressional district, James G. Elaine
had never been heard of, and Speaker
Cannon was a barefoot boy, it seemed a
stretch well back into the storied past.
And literature — in his day Ann S. Stevens
was the best beloved writer and Graham's
Magazine in its heyday of popularity.
Mr. Porter is a veteran member of the bar
from Eldora, Iowa, and he was enjoying
every minute of it at the Raleigh. He
recalled vividly when the first railroad
train set out in 1831, on that famous
twelve-mile run from Baltimore to Ellicot-
ville. Many famous men predicted the
dire failure of even those few miles of
track, and when Morse announced that
it would be possible to have communication
from city to city over a wire, he was
looked upon as a dreamer.
Keenly interested in affairs political,
Mr. Porter talked glowingly of the days
of Governor Kirkwood and Senator Grimes
of Iowa, and the great settlement of the
West. "Why, do you know," he said
with a twinkle in his eye, "they used to
laugh at us for making homes out on the
great prairie-wastes in Iowa — as being
outside of all possible civilization for cen-
turies to come and all that. Land then
went begging for $1.25 per acre, and now
it's selling for $200.
"I tell you, things have moved in my
day," he laughed and gazed dreamily,
as one who sees only the glories of past
days and men who are only memories.
Mr. Porter was admitted to the bar in
1853, when Roger B. Taney was Chief
Justice, and in his eighty-third year is
still in active practice before the Supreme
Court.
* * *
AFTER every other subject has been
exhausted when talking over affairs
at Washington, a new cabinet rumor is a
safe harbor of refuge. Cabinet rumors
have been plentiful and persistent ever
since President Taft was inaugurated,
but the Cabinet still remains whole and
intact at this writing.
The Cabinet selections have not al-
together been governed by personal feel-
ings under President Taft's regime. As
in the days of emperors and kings, when
one minister holds his portfolio longer
than another and when certain public men
ROBERT O. BAILEY
Who was recently promoted to the position of Assistant
Secretary of the Treasury. He succeeds C. D. Hilles
come with unusual frequency to visit the
President, it is looked upon as an indica-
tion that "something is going to happen"
at the White House. But when these
rumors are reduced to a common denom-
inator, it generally means that things are
jogging along in the good old way. Rumor
or no rumor, the Cabinet continues to
meet on Tuesdays and Fridays and the
same spirit of village gossip that makes
enemies of friends through hearsay and
idle talk has little weight with practical
men who insist that between friends no
explanations are necessary, and no gossip
seriously considered. They have long
410
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
since learned that when a Machiavelli
first determines upon a disruption of ami-
cable relations, he first sets idle tongues
a-wagging, and hopes that his rumor will
be repeated — with additions — to the next
hearer as fact.
Photo copyright by Clinedinst
MARCHESA CUSANI
Chatelaine of the Italian Embassy, wife of the new
Italian Ambassador. Many important hospitalities
are planned in her honor. She will also give some
very brilliant receptions this season
upon a time railroad presidents
merely visited Washington as a matter
of recreation, but now attendance at the
sessions of the Interstate Commerce
Commission seems to be a part of their
official business. The passing of the rail-
road king — the financier rather than the
railroad man — has never been more evi-
denced than in the sharp contrast of the
recent election of Charles H. Markham as
president of the Illinois Central Railroad.
Here is a man who actually started his
career swinging the pick and driving
spikes as a section-hand, a type of ener-
getic Americanism which somehow fires
the interest of his fellow- Americans, who
never lose the spirit of romance, or forget,
in spite of their acceptance and recogni-
tion of the advantages of college education,
that Abraham Lincoln was a rail splitter.
The ablest men of the country have
been engaged in the railroad business, and
likewise a railroad president can be a real
patriot, and his interest in the welfare of
the public may be just as sincere as that
of his most scathing detractor, even if
shorn of his power to issue "passes."
A S the automobiles were whizzing down
•**• the Avenue, a member of the French
Legation asserted with true native loyalty
that Napoleon was the first great patron
saint of the automobile. To the "first
automobilist," one Joseph Cugnot, who
made a loqomotive for roads which has
been for years on exhibition at the Con-
servatoire des Arts et Metiers, the emperor
awarded a pension which saved the in-
ventor from dying in want, as is the lot
of many geniuses.
In the locomotive which Cugnot planned,
guns and ammunition were carried, all of
which must have touched the heart of
Napoleon, who looked askance at the
inventor of so peaceful a means of locomo-
tion as the steamboat. But though
Bonaparte called Fulton an adventurer,
my friend insisted that the honor of being
the patron saint of the modem motor
car belonged to none other than the great
Napoleon.
•"THE Weather Bureau map pointed to a
*• cold wave due that week, and the
sniffling M. C. wended his way to the
doctor's office. Now besides the cold —
which would of course grow worse with a
spell of zero weather and doubtless would
develop into pulmonary pneumonia —
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
411
there was some hard work coming up in
the House, and certain legislative matters
to grapple with that the Congressman
wanted to sidestep.
" Doctor," he burst forth as he stuffed
his seventh handkerchief into his coat,
"this cold seems to be growing worse
— sort of clinging to me. I know,"
grudgingly, "it's a little better now than
when I first came down with the grippe,
but — don't you think I ought to go to a
warmer climate?"
"Why," demurred the M. D. with a
twinkle in his eye, "we're getting on
famously now; the cold won't 'cling'
much longer. Warm climate! — why, my
dear sir, that's just what I've been trying
to save you from — going that way before
your time!"
OWINGING along at the impetuous
^ gait now familiar to most Washington
folk, President Taft thrust aside all
precedents and made an impromptu call
at the Post Office Department on Post-
master-General Hitchcock. He arrived
about 7 P. M., when most of the force
were away quietly enjoying their din-
ners, and found the head of affairs busy
with a mass of complexities, pushing
through with the evening's work
The President strolled out through the
corridors, gazed up at the massive Ameri-
can flag in the great court, and made
himself at home in general. It is doubt-
ful if he often takes a trip that is enjoyed
as much as was this, just slipping out at
an unexpected hour and calling on one
of his Cabinet officers informally, as was
his wont in the old days.
Doubtless he made the visit largely
to see a Cabinet minister in action in his
particular department, especially a de-
partment which has shown a saving
of eleven million, five hundred thousand
dollars during the year.
IT doesn't seem so long ago, after all,
* that the President was seen in the House
or Senate restaurant enjoying a luncheon
and chatting with the different members,
when he was Mr. Secretary-of-War. He
seems to feel that he hasn't lost his rights
as an American citizen, although he may
be a President, and he has little regard for
the professional formalities of his official
position. He moves about the city with
the perfect freedom of his predecessor,
although wherever he goes the secret
service men clad in evening or business
clothes, as suit the occasion, are close by
his side.
When the President leaves Washington,
a Secret Service man goes ahead. If it
Photo copyright by Clinedinst
MARCHESE CUSANI CONPALONIERI
The new Italian Ambassador
is a speaking engagement to be fulfilled,
a man from the Secret Service Bureau
consults the reception committee as to
the men who are to meet the President
and the policemen to be on guard, and
many other details. They must even know
in advance who is to drive or to occupy
the carriages which carry President Taft
to and from the station, who is to intro-
duce him, and who to sit nearby. Every
arrangement connected with a public din-
ner or parade is scheduled to the minute.
412
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
Every detail of the trip — almost every
movement of the President — is known
and timed far in advance, and every pre-
caution taken for his safety every hour of
the day and every day in the year, due
to the untiring energy of the Secret Service
force, who go about all things with as
little "noise" as possible. As Chief Wilkie
has often said to the newspaper boys,
"Say just as little as you can about us."
Photo by Straus-Peyton
HENRY MILLER, THE ACTOR
Starring in Sheldon's new play, "The Havoc"
JUST outside of the Senate Gallery stand
the busts of former Vice-Presidents
Stevenson, Hobart, Morton, Roosevelt and
Fairbanks, which were placed there because
of lack of room inside. As the throngs of
tourists pass through, they stop to look with
admiration upon the beautiful white marble
images of our recent Vice-Presidents.
Every door, nook and corner about the
Capitol is interesting. Paintings here,
there and everywhere flash forth the
dramatic events of history from the battle
of Chapultepec to the scenes at San Juan.
There is one mystery in the building —
the bust of an Indian — and no one seems
to know who it is or where it originally
came from. It bears no inscription to
tell why it is there and the features are so
indistinct that no one can discover what
stalwart brave has the distinction of occu-
pying a place in the Capitol.
The guides who direct the sight-seers
always have at hand a ready fund of
inspiration which is thrilling and dramatic
at times. The attention of the visitors,
as they stand about the conductor, is a
revelation of the keen interest which
Americans take in national successes, and
American worthies, past and present.
IV^UCH nodding of heads and many con-
^"*> ferences prevailed while determining
the question of Republican leadership in the
Senate for the Sixty-second Congress.
The power and influence of the New Eng- •
land senatorial delegation devolves to a
large extent upon Senator Jacob H.
Gallinger, the untiring, resourceful, level-
headed Senator from New Hampshire.
No one man, say his friends, has ever
accomplished more real work from the
time he first served in the Senate than Mr.
Gallinger. He it was who saw to all the
details of the construction of the new
Senate office building ; he has seen long and
active service on the naval, commerce
and appropriations committees and has
been in close touch with all the federal
legislation for a quarter of a century past.
Because of these things and somewhat
because of the illness of Senator Frye
and Senator Cullom, the leadership of the
Senate will probably fall to Senator
Gallinger. Still in his vigorous prime, he
has that genius for leadership and in-
stinctive knowledge of how things have
been done and how they can be done that
counts for so much at Washington.
When he finishes up his early morn-
ing's wbrk at the Senate office building,
he takes the jaunting car across the tunnel
and begins work on the District of Colum-
bia Committee, of which he is chairman.
He is nearly always on the floor when the
roll-call is announced, for many things
besides his immediate work engross the
attention of the senior Senator from New
Hampshire.
The old tradition of leadership passing
by reason of seniority — of course when
coupled with ability — has never yet been
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
413
broken, and naturally and logically the
leadership of Senator Gallinger in the
Senate is conceded. When one realizes
that the bulk of all the real work of the
Senate is transacted in the committee
rooms, it is not hard to understand why
such members as Senator Gallinger be-
come leaders in times of emergency, when
expert knowledge of all the details of
legislation is indispensable.
as he gave it to me, that I may show
the trend of erudition in Washington.
"All phenomenality is the result of
changes in the equilibria of ether. When
the changes are rapid we have heat, light,
electricity, etc., when they are slow we
have matter — iron, silver, lead, etc."
These few words, when analyzed, mean
a good deal; and, although they may not
hold any political significance, they show
A SENATOR who is an ardent advocate
**• of a tariff commission was taken
aback when, while waiting in the execu-
tive, he spun what he considered a really
"phunny" story.
He was telling about the Englishman
who didn't want his wife to put on the
gown she had worn on the night previous.
The wife, surprised, queried: "Why, my
dear, what's the matter with that dress?"
"Well, Brown- Jones came to me last
night after looking at it, and said without
the ghost of a smile: 'Ah, my dear fellow, I
see your wife's back from Kensington!' "
There wasn't a snicker. "That's an
English joke," admitted the story-teller,
with an expression that varied between
amusement and discomfiture, "and English
jokes are a bit difficult to some."
"You mean to say," drawled a listener,
"that he saw the lady's back in her de-
collete gown from Kensington? Is that
it?"
"That's it; that's the joke."
"As a member of the Tariff Commis-
sion," stated the other, still without smil-
ing, "I think you ought to put a protective
tariff on anything that gets here from
England in the way of a joke. Put the
duty on jokes and we'll have less of the
Punch variety floating around the cloak-
room."
CPEAKING of distinguished men of
^ learning in Harvard, Yale and other
noted university towns, I think there are
more folks devoting their lives to research
in Washington than in any other city in
the country. I have a delightful friend
living quietly at the Capital, who spends
his days in the study of science. I want
to reproduce one 'of his conclusions, exactly
G. HAROLD POWELL
Formerly Acting Chief of the Bureau of Plant Industry,
Agricultural Department. He has just accepted a
$10,000 salary to be manager of the "Citrus Growers'
Protective League," with headquarters in Los Angeles,
California. Other countries have profited by Mr.
Powell's wonderful experiments in growing, harvesting,
cold storage and handling of fruit
that something besides political discussion
goes on at the Capital City. Why, the
atom and the molecule are now obsolete
in political animadversion, and when a
congressman wants to show his disgust
for an officer he calls him a diatom, which
under the strongest rays is the most
infinitesimal and minute of particles.
My learned friend had also looked over a
map of the skies, showing the planets and
stars far beyond the reach of the most
powerful telescope. These maps \\ere
414
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
made by utilizing the violet rays, and they
show a myriad of other rays and other
objects on the photographic plate, far
beyond the range of the human eye and
the most powerful telescopes.
The science of the skies is one of pro-
found interest, and it does one good to
find that the political sky is not the only
study of Washington scientists.
S. H. SHELDON, AUTHOR OP "THE HAVOC"
Now playing in New York City
'T'HE executive session had been finished
* without a flurry, the red lights over
the door went out, and they were lighting
their cigars. Conversation was directed
upon Vice-President Sherman's rulings
as to the counting of any Senator who had
responded to the roll-call as present.
Senatorial courtesy heretofore has per-
mitted the members present to refrain
from voting if they so desired, announcing
a pair, although they may have responded
to the roll-call that constituted a quorum.
While not exactly introducing the rules
of the House of Representatives into the
Upper House, a suspicion of that
entered the minds of the Senators who
favored the old manner of proceedings,
especially since the Vice-President was
promptly supported in his decision by
the Senators who had been promoted
from the House.
* * *
IT was his first visit to Washington, and
* there is always a bit of sentiment at-
tached to the "first time" that wears off
after one has been in the Capital a number
of times. The Director of the Census
had just made public the announcement
that there were more than one hundred
and one million people under the American
flag — a twenty-one per cent gain in popula-
tion in ten years — and as the visitor reached
the Census Building and stood before the
flag there, he took off his hat and waved it
enthusiastically as one of those one
hundred and one million under the Stars
and Stripes. The door-keeper and janitor
looked at each other and winked. But
it was only an outburst of real and sincere
appreciation of being one of the hundred
and one million who claim Old Glory as
their own.
Sometimes we learn from foreigners
real lessons in patriotism. It was the
French wife of an American congressman
who introduced the custom in Washington
of making the Stars and Stripes as promi-
nent as possible in the drawing-room
decorations. It makes one feel like throw-
ing up his hat and cheering, too, when
he sees such manifestations of loyalty.
The practice should find favor in every
American home; we made it a rule in ours
some years ago that the flag should
claim its place of honor. This is only a
little thing, perhaps, but what a sad
commentary it is upon a great govern-
ment that in millions of homes can be found
not even the slightest evidence of that
sentiment that always wells up magnifi-
cently during a great crisis or time of
peril.
During the Civil War, for example,
there were few homes in which the flag
was not found. In these days of steam
radiators, telephones and all the prosaic
utilities that exist, it does seem refreshing
to find a sentiment in vogue that will
bring out the national colors from the
dusty garret at other times than on
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
415
national holidays. There has been a time
and there may again come a time when
the old flag will shine forth in its glory
over every American home. Why not
in the home, if over the schoolhouse?
TN the round of social dinners, at which
* exact arrangements must be made for
courtesies conferred and returned, and
the same people have met and re-met until
conversation flags and everyone has ex-
hausted his fund of sparkling wit — even
the young man who has gathered together
all the bright bon mots of Marcus Aurelius
and Aristotle — one subject can be de-
pended upon to come up for discussion
sooner or later — the family genealogy.
At a recent function the company had
drifted into the subject unconsciously,
and after several had traced their ancestry
back to William the Conqueror, the Prince
of Orange, King Alfred, and other departed
worthies, one lady exclaimed with a glow
of enthusiasm: "I wish I could show you
our family tree!"
"Hope it ain't rubber!" shot out from
behind the screens the piping voice of the
younger son of the household, who had
been made to wait for second table.
STANDING near the desk of Senator
Tillman of pitchfork fame, the Honor-
able Lafayette Young, the newly appointed
Senator from Iowa, delivered his maiden
speech. It occupied just one hour, and
although the manuscript lay on his desk
before him, he seldom glanced that way,
but "warmed right up to his subject" as
he proceeded to free his mind of a few
matters on which he had evidently formed
decided opinions. With all his vigor and
forcefulness, Senator Young opposed re-
vision of the existing tariff law because,
he insisted, as it then stood it protected
the interests of the farmer, and upon
the protection of the farmer depended
the prosperity of the nation.
His reference to the sedate Senators
as "boys" made the members fairly gasp,
but a good-natured laugh followed, in-
dicating that no serious damage had been
done, and the ice had been effectively
broken. The speech was altogether breezy
and interesting, and the large attendance
on the floor of the Senate, which included
many prominent members of the House,
to say nothing of the crowded galleries,
was a very flattering tribute to the new
editor-Senator.
One of the few active and aggressive
newspaper men who have occupied the
MISS CLARA SWIFT
Daughter of Major and Mrs. Swift, U.S.A. She is this
year's debutante and is considered one of the
most beautiful young women in army circles
post of Senator, the Colonel didn't let
the occasion pass without paying a tribute
to his fellow-editors. As is customary
with him, he "spoke right out in meeting,"
determined to say what had been on
his mind for some time past, whether the
speech would be his salutatory or vale-
dictory as a United States Senator.
IX'EEN interest is always manifested
"• whenever a candidate for the presi-
dency from Ohio is announced. For Ohio
is loth to lose the distinction of being the
416
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
State of Presidents, rivalling even Virginia,
which first held the distinction.
When Judge Harmon visited Washington
and ran the gauntlet of the Gridiron Club,
which has had the distinction of "broil-
ing" nearly every candidate for the presi-
dency that ever appeared, there was a
feeling expressed by every Ohio man that
Governor Harmon was "just about right"
for the place.
The Governor called on President Taft,
at the White House, to pay his respects
eye State will go in obtaining the assent
of the other states is yet to be seen.
Woodrow Wilson and Governor Dix
are strong men to be reckoned with in the
East, not to mention Governor Folk and
several other prominent leaders of the
Democratic party. And then there is a
man still living out in Nebraska who in
times past commanded the strength of
his party.
As the years have passed and views have
been modified with the passing of time and
the march of events, there are
men who in years past fought
vigorously against the young
orator of the Platte, that
would not shake their heads
now were William Jennings
Bryan to break all records
and again become a nominee
for the presidency.
Photo copyright by the American Press Association
GOVERNOR AND MRS. WILSON OP NEW JERSEY
Photograph taken at their home in Princeton
and renew an acquaintance of many years'
standing. He never visits the Capitol
without reference to the first time he was
called there as a member of the Cleveland
cabinet. He was just getting along
famously with his legal practice and had
never even dreamed of a government ap-
pointment, when a very brief note written
in the fine, exact chirography of the late
Grover Cleveland announced that the
President wanted him in Washington to
take the post of Attorney-General. And
he went.
His successful campaigns in his state
long ago determined that he is to be
the favored son of Ohio at the Democratic
National Convention. How far the Buck-
A FTER a visit to the Turk-
*»• ish Embasy I felt that a
trip to the ancient East would
only repeat the sights and
scenes in our own country.
Alas for our dreams of Ori-
ental mystery and delicious
indisposition to depart from
the traditions and customs of
a remote antiquity. Aleppo,
once dear to the heart of poet
and novelist, who could still
find there something of the
blissful indolence, primeval
passion, picturesque homicidal
idiosyncrasies and garish luxury of the days
of caliph and emir, is soon to become an
up-to-date metropolis.
The American consul informs the state
department that "the turbaned Turk" is
anxiously awaiting the completion of
electric street lamps, a telephone exchange,
and a complete line of street railways.
Not only are these innovations of the
Giaour in process of completion, but
"there are lacking water- works, gas
plants, modern sewage systems, fire de-
partments," and we are assured that
"concessions for any part, or all of these
propositions may be had for the asking"
and so on, in the land of the Crescent.
Even Bagdad, the city of the "Arabian
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
417
Nights' * and the capital of Haroun Al
Raschid "on whom be peace," has gone
after strange gods, and appropriated a
loan of eight hundred thousand dollars
"for municipal purposes."
Truly "the age of poesy hath fled"
or, if not wholly departed, the scant
remains of semi-civilization still left will
not long remain under the searching glare
of the modern arc lamps, which Thomas
Edison flashed upon an astonished and
wondering world.
'"THE deliciously satirical verses of Bret
* Harte continue to have a new signi-
ficance as from time to time some new
development of the real power and enter-
prise of the men of the Flowery Kingdom
is impressed upon us.
"Then I looked up at Nye,
And he gazed upon me;
Then he rose with a sigh
And he said: 'Can this be?
We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor'
And he went for that heathen Chinee."
When the steamer "Lizanko" arrived
at Liverpool with a cargo of frozen food-
stuffs from Hankow and other Chinese ports
she brought the second invoice of a line
of exports which Americans must realize
will add greatly to the already serious
competition with American products. The
cargo included 6,270 frozen pigs, 9,266
packages eggs, 1,504 cases of lard, 8,089
boxes of frozen wild ducks, 3,744 boxes of
wild geese, 3,716 boxes of snipe, 1,690
packages of beans, and five hundred boxes
of tame ducks, all from Chinese ports;
besides 1,883 barrels of salted and some
fresh salmon and caviar from Vladivostock,
all of which arrived in good order and
condition.
When the Panama Canal is finished,
and the route for such steamers shorter,
meat cargoes will not have to go through
the tropics to reach American or European
markets, and an increase of such ship-
ments will certainly result.
J7 VERY young lawyer, as he grasps the
*-* document which creates him a full-
fledged attorney and counselor-at-law,
dreams of the time when some day he
may be appointed to the Supreme Bench.
If that ambition continues, and every
year is spent in active practice and study,
the wish may be fulfilled, and the obscure
lawyer may become one of the nine
who represent the highest court in the
land — calling to mind Napoleon's remark
that every private carried in his knapsack
the baton of a marshal of France.
All these things are referred to in the
widely published sketches concerning the
CHIEF JUSTICE E. D. WHITE
Who succeeds the late Chief Justice Fuller. He is a
Democrat and a former Confederate soldier
new Chief Justice. The South looked upon
the appointment as a most touching and
beautiful Christmas gift, for was it not
Private White, who carried his musket
and knapsack years ago in the ranks of
the Confederate Army of America, who
was the recipient of good will from a
Northern President?
The broad spirit that has characterized
recent administrations is widely noted
and commented upon. Here is a Unitarian
President appointing a Roman Catholic
Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, a
position as high even as the presidency,
and prized even more by the trained
jurist who is now in that high office,
WILLIAM HODGE, "THE MAN FROM HOME"
Whose wholesome new serial "The Gueit of Honor" will begin In the March issue of the NATIONAL MAGAZINE
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
419
and one to which President T^aft him-
self had long looked forward as the
culmination of a life's, ambit ion. In the
Cabinets of recent years have served Jews
and Gentiles, Democrats and Republicans
— in fact every phase of belief, every party
and every section have been represented
without any apparent effort at making
this an "evening up." The appointments
have been rather the result of the logical
growth of a broad national spirit and sen-
timent, acknowledging force of character
and brains, wherever found.
When you see Chief -Justice White
leaning back in his chair with his eyes
half-closed, or when he asks, with extreme
politeness, for certain information, it is
interesting to realize that the hands which
now wield the pen of the mightiest tribunal
of the world belong to a man who was
an accomplished pianist in his younger
days. Even now he delights in touching
the ivory keys. One is impressed with the
achievements of the man who was brought
from the South while representing the
state of Louisiana by President Cleve-
land, and placed upon the Supreme
Bench only to work and win his way to
the Chief- Justiceship through merit and
arduous work.
A N interest almost equal to that mani-
*» fested in the proceedings of the
Senate and the House is centered upon
the Supreme Court room, which occupies
the old Senate Chamber in the Capitol
at Washington. While heretofore trade
depression has often been ascribed to
legislation enacted or unenacted, today
the important decisions to be rendered
by the Supreme Court are awaited as the
master keys that shall close or open the
great treasure houses of national activities.
The iron and steel market, which has
always been accounted the barometer of
trade, suffered a very severe setback during
the close of 1910; but it is remembered
that when the big cut in iron and steel
was announced in 1907, it served to mark
the end rather than the beginning of a
period of inactivity.
The cases before the Supreme Court,
affecting anti-trust legislation and various
other matters, constitute a docket of
more absorbing public interest than any
since the days of the Dred Scott case.
The details of the Standard Oil and Ameri-
can Tobacco cases have been as much dis-
cussed as any legislation that has ever
been brought before Congress.
""THE serene quietude about the Supreme
*- Court room is perhaps responsible
for its being often called by foreign visitors
JUDGE W. VAN DEVANTER
The new justice who succeeds the late Justice Brewer j
"the most awe-inspiring chamber of the
government." The doors are drawn open
with a crimson cord — no clanging and
banging of doors here. When Justice
White asks questions of the attorney
making his plea, he begs his pardon for
the interruption. The respect and the
quiet dignity both serve to inspire in the
onlooker a deep sense of awe. Justice
Hughes, formerly governor of the state
of New York, sits at the end of the
row, for you know he's only in his
freshman year.
The apparent indifference that some-
times appears to imbue the Supreme
Court is wholly deceptive. Perhaps the
420
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
calm and peace have been acquired only
after years of cultivation, for the Supreme
Court justices must be eminently reserved,
and not give way to the occasional human
emotion which detracts from the dignity
of the lower courts. Members of the bar
from all over the country crowd inside
DONNA BEATRICE CUSANI CONFALONIERI
Daughter of the new Italian Ambassador who has been
presented at Court in Italy. She speaks many languages
and is the third of a trio of beautiful young women of
the Ambassadorial circle, the others being the daughters
of the German and Russian Ambassadors
the court room to hear the pleas
and watch the procedure in important
cases, and dream of the time when they,
too, may sit aloft in sombre dignity.
The heavy plush curtains and the rich
decorations of the room have a courtly
elegance and stateliness that befit the
surroundings of the tribunal whose decis-
ions are more far-reaching, perhaps, than
those of any other court in the world's
history.
'"THE London Times asserts that Miss
1 Helen Taft is likely to attend the
coronation of King George V, which sets
social Washington agog, for a brilliant
bevy of American girls is expected to
adorn the festivities of the coronation.
London's great social event is being-
discussed in Washington circles, for after
all there is a strong cousinly interest in
affairs British that cannot be repressed.
The recent elections in England have
revealed a power and influence of Ameri-
cans in England such as was never dreamed
of before. This seems to be resented- by
the English, which is a little hard for us
to understand, since many prominent
government officials in America have been
foreign-born.
The influence of American women in
England is also becoming more and more
marked. The members of the Astor family
who have seats in Parliament owe much to
Mrs. Alva Astor for ensuring them against
defeat; and Lady Harrington, the daughter
of the late Senator McMillan, was keenly
interested in the campaign of her husband,
who sought to oust John Burns from
Battersea.
"""THE opera season in Washington is
* brief at best, but during its height
there is always a traditional fastidious-
ness in the matter of dress. The powdered
periwig and curls, knee-breeches and
gorgeous hoop-skirts of past centuries
can hardly compare with the gorgeous
array of social Washington at the opera.
"Tannhauser" was being played on a
certain night not so long ago, but before
the curtain went up and the lights were
lowered, a thousand opera glasses were
raised and the audience surveyed each
other with all the scrutiny of an admiral
on the bridge going into action.
It was well into the first act when into
the select orchestra circle swept a young
man who had left his dress suit at home.
He had not even stopped to check his
very business-like overcoat — which might
have partly saved him from being con-
spicuous— and he began to grow very red
and discomfited by the time "Tannhauser"
was pouring forth his soul in passionate
song. While the entrancing music of
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
421
THE LATE SENATOR STEPHEN B. ELKINS, OP WEST VIRGINIA, WHO PASSED AWAY
JANUARY 4, 1911, AT WASHINGTON, D. C.
Wagner thrilled the audience, the youth
of the business dress was seized with an
impulse, and he thought to slide off his
overcoat while sitting. He didn't observe,
in the dimness, that his inside coat came
off as well, and there he sat all through
the act, far back in his chair, in all the
democratic dishabille that pervades a
Fourteenth Street moving-picture house
in New York. As the lights were thrown
on he suddenly observed a white arm —
his shirt-sleeves!
Now, "Tannhauser" is not a*comedy,but
the spell of the tragedy was rudely broken
422
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
when the opera-goers discovered a young
man hastily pushing his arms through the
dangling sleeves of both coats as he made
a parabolic exit.
MISS MAY HAMMOND
Niece of John Hays Hammond, who was presented to
society November 19. A very brilliant reception was
given at the Hammond residence, which was attended
by a very large social gathering
P\EBATES of the "red hot" variety
*-^ among the youthful sons of Congress-
men promise to rival the violence of the
arguments on the floor of the House. Of
course the doings and sayings of these
remarkable sons of their fathers are the
pride of the members of the House. Con-
gressman Bartlett of Nevada has a pre-
cocious son and heir named after Donald
Mitchell, the author of "Dream Life,"
though the Congressman admits he went
through the struggle of his life to have
his first-born so called.
The young man reciprocates the most
unqualified admiration of his father.
The discussion was getting warm.
"Huh! Think your father knows more
than my father, ha?"
"Yup."
"Think he knows more'n any man in
Congress."
"Yup."
"S'pose he even knows more 'n the
President ! ' ' scornfully .
"Yessiree!"
"Does he know more 'n any man in the
United States?"
"Yes."
. His antagonist was almost at the end
of his resources when a brilliant thought
inspired him. "Well, does he know more
than God?"
Young Donald scratched his head a
moment, and finally decided upon a way
to get out of it with filial loyalty and due
reverence. "Oh, well," he deprecated,
"God isn't in this, you know!"
MEMORIES of the Gatun Locks were
* ** awakened upon meeting Colonel Wil-
liam L. Sibert, a member of the Canal
Commission, in Washington. He re-
iterated, in response to the ceaseless
interrogation that was projected on all
sides, "The Canal will be completed in
1915," just as he said it standing on the
parapet of the great monolith a year ago.
Somewhat emphatically he advanced the
opinion that the canal should be protected
from foreign powers.
"The United States has provided the
money and brains to build the ditch," he
said, "and should have its full benefits."
He pointed out that neutralizing the canal
might work to serious disadvantage in
time of war, and suggested that if the canal
were properly fortified, we could place
battleships on either side of the Atlantic
or Pacific and thus guard against attack.
The Colonel offered the same advice
that Vegetius advanced centuries ago;
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
423
"Qui desiderat pacem praeparet bellum,"
which has been translated in every lan-
guage and different phraseologies down
to the present day, but is generally ex-
pressed in terse Saxon as "In time of
peace, prepare for war."
TN the expiring days of their public career,
* none have retained more real power of
holding their friends than Congressman
James A. Tawney, who is retiring as
Chairman of the House Committee on
Appropriations. Touching expressions of
appreciation came to him from colleagues
of all political parties.
It was Representative Burleson of
Texas, a staunch Democratic candidate
for chairmanship of the committee for
the new House, who insisted that "Tawney
could have his endorsement for any office,"
and that if his re-election could be brought
about among those with whom he had
served for many years, there would be
an unanimous vote for him among both
Democrats and Republicans.
To hold steadfast in high ideals of public
duty and integrity, and pass over expendi-
tures aggregating over a half billion
annually, and retire from Congress a poor
man, is a record of which any man might
well be proud.
Mr. Tawney has been mentioned as
Governor of the Isthmian Canal Zone,
and in Washington, regardless of section
or political creed, the splendid talents
of the man who has given eighteen of
the best years of his life to unselfish and
devoted service in Congress have been
recognized and he is unhesitatingly hailed
as the "man for the job."
YV7HEN in a pensive mood nothing
W gives more pleasure than to slip
into "No. 221" of the State Department,
where the diplomats of the world are
greeted by the Secretary of State. The
room is exclusive only on Thursdays, when
the diplomats gather to meet the Secretary.
It is furnished in black, which adds to its
impressiveness, and it seems as quiet as
the inner recesses of some ancient library,
or the ante-room to the dismal state
apartments of a medieval Bishop.
On the walls are portraits, framed in
gold, of the eminent men who have held
the position of Secretary of State under
former administrations, and I thought
in looking from one likeness to an-
other: "What an assemblage of famous
faces!"
Secretary Hay, at one end of the room,
seemed almost about to speak to Daniel
VISCOUNTESS BENOIST D'AZY
Wife of the Naval Attache of the French Embassy, who
made an ascension at Belmont Park, New Jersey, with
Count de Lesseps. She is the first woman in diplomatic
society to go up in an airship. She expressed great
delight and was much pleased with her experience
Webster, nearby. There were Jefferson,
keen-eyed and thin-lipped, and Pickering,
determined and cynical; Seward's acute
face and Elaine's kindly features.
What an appropriate retreat in which
to gather the foreign visitors — what a
library for the study of facial character-
istics! Somber, secluded, with the silence
broken only by the ticking of the clock
on the dark mantel, the atmosphere seems
almost as awe-inspiring as that of West-
minster Abbey, the burial-place of Great
Britain's most revered statesmen.
Room No. 221 of the State Department
when once visited will never be forgotten.
424
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
AT the picturesque little city of Man-
•** Chester, Iowa, Captain J. F. Merry
is conducting a notable work. The great
railroad system which he represents reach-
ing to Omaha on the Missouri, following
the Mississippi Valley from Chicago to
New Orleans, with branch lines extending
southeast to Savannah, traverses in the
states of Kentucky,
Tennessee, Alabama,
Louisiana and Mis-
sissippi, an area of
farm lands not ex-
celled by any other
railway in the United
States.
From the very
first, when Captain
Merry began his
service with the rail-
road in 1860, he be-
came interested in
the development of
the farm resources
along the line. His
energetic efforts,
largely directed to
the exploitation of
the Yazoo Valley in
the Mississippi, have
secured astonishing
results in the trans-
formation of uncul-
tivated lands into
farms of substantial
value. The great
drainage undertak-
ings in the lower
Mississippi section have reclaimed a vast
acreage of the richest soils in the world.
In his modern up-to-date office at Man-
chester the Immigration Department of
the Illinois Central is conducted systemati-
cally and with great thoroughness. Novel
quarters are those of Captain Merry's —
in the basement are tons of printed matter
concerning the South and boxes containing
specimens of the actual soils from the
various counties which feed the railroad,
which are later exhibited at the different
world's fairs. Thousands of inquiries
come to the office requesting information
of how to develop and farm in a certain
section, and the facts and suggestions are
so clearly given that many successful
CAPTAIN JF. MERRY
One of the prominent Grand Army men in Iowa and
one who has made a famous record in developing
and selling new lands in the Yazoo Valley
farmers along the route attribute a large
measure of their prosperity and the es-
tablishment of good farm homes to the
assistance given them through this agency
of the railroad.
Captain Merry loves his home town,
in which he has resided the greater portion
of his life. On his farm at "Merryland,"
a few miles distant,
he has had an oppor-
tunity to make prac-
tical tests of most of
the matters of which
he writes in connec-
tion with his farm
development.
" Merryland ^' is
certainly an ideal
retreat, and on that
perfect evening when
I looked upon the
fields ripe for har-{
vest, there was a
view of Iowa pastoral
that would be fitting
inspiration for the
brush of a Millet —
and it illustrates
what can be done in
the development of a
profitable farm, even
in localities where
the price of land is
high. In their beau-
chester, the Captain
and Mrs. Merry, sur-
rounded by their
friends, enjoy all the comforts of an ideal
home life; and the visitor at "Merryland"
recalls the lines of Emerson:
"If the single man plant himself in-
domitably on his instincts and there
abide, the huge world will come round
to him."
EAL Bourbon whiskey, sah, that is!
So sof and fragrant you kin sniff
the co'n fiel', sah, whar it come frawml"
The remark recalled the report of the
Internal Revenue Bureau, which collected
$289,000,000 during the fiscal year ending
June 30, 1910, at a cost of about $5,000,000
for collection. This income was collected
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
425
largely on distilled spirits and fermented
liquors. A few other articles added
something to a total which is one of the
highest since the Bureau was established
in 1863. Commissioner Cabell expects
to report an aggregate receipt of at least
$308,000,000 for 1910-1911.
Illicit distilling in the cities and towns,
and the operations of the "Moonshine
whiskey" in the woods and mountains
is regrettably on the increase; the federal
So we can hardly rejoice at the flood
of money received from sources that
require constant warfare to collect it,
and a business that consumes annually
over four hundred million bushels of
grain that would be better used as food.
Worse than all this, it entails immense
burdens of poverty and crime upon our
people.
Commissioner Cabell has had a busy
year, but has felt his pathway smoother
MOONLIGHT ON THE LAKE
officers have during the year seized and
closed 1911 illegal distilleries. Comment
on this question is rather difficult; it
reminds one of the remonstrance of the
country editor when an irate advertising
undertaker reproached him with having
lavished favorable notices on all other
advertisers but himself.
"How can I please you?" cried the
despairing scribe. "Can I say that your
business has steadily increased during the
past year, and promises a gratifying
development during the year to come?
Can I recommend my readers to inspect
your latest styles in caskets, and expatiate
on the beauty of your last invoice of
burial garments? I can and do bear
witness to your kindness and ability, but
I can't see my way clear to descant on
the growth of your business — unless I turn
up my toes and furnish you a subject."
since executive order has declared "what
is" and "what is not" whiskey according
to the erudite legal authorities.
GEATED in his office at the Congressional
^ Library, Mr. Herbert L. Putnam keeps
in close touch with perhaps the most
wonderful development of the country,
for through the channels of the Library
of Congress flow all the books and peri-
odicals, pictures and other literature con-
cerning copyrighted material. Mr. Put-
nam has long been acknowledged one of
the world's greatest librarians, and his
ambition and earnest effort to make the
Congressional Library representative and
worthy of the great republic should be
heartily and generously aided.
The Annual Report lately submitted
to Congress notes the completion of an
426
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
additional bookstack, which fills a court-
yard 150 feet long, seventy-four wide and
eighty high. It contains 748,000 cubic
feet, and forty-four miles of shelving.
Nearly a million volumes will be accom-
modated, in addition to the present collec-
tion of over two million books, pamphlets
and other articles. Every year about
ninety thousand books and pamphlets
and fifty thousand miscellaneous articles
lection represents much labor and expense,
but Mr. Putnam is working toward making
the Library of Congress not only the big-
gest, but the greatest of modern libraries.
A WAR on the squirrel? It seems im-
•** possible that it should be necessary
to take measures to exterminate the
pretty little animal which is one of the
A WINTER SCENE IN THE NORTHERN WOODS
are added, and the collection promises
to become the largest in the world.
The books in the one hundred and fifty
miles of shelving in the Library represent
only a fraction of what have been entered
for copyright; the rest are retained in the
copyright files as part of the record, or are
used by other governmental libraries, or
returned to the copyright proprietors.
So the Library is not a morgue for
"copyright trash," but rather embodies
that copyrighted material which may be
substantially useful as literature. The
classification and cataloguing of this col-
chief attractions in the public parks.
But reports are broadcast that the ground
squirrel in California is destroying every
year over $10,000,000 worth of fruits,
nuts and cereals, and worse still is a
menace to public health. The ground
squirrel, it seems, has become infected
with the dangerous bubonic plague through
the rats of San Francisco. Nearly four
hundred infected squirrels have been
captured east and south of the city, and
eight fatal cases of the plague have been
laid to their door.
Large numbers of the little animals
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
427
have been exterminated by traps, poison
and the fumes of bisulphide of carbon
introduced into their burrows, but the
land-owners seem loath to join in the
movement, and it is feared that the govern-
ment may have to declare war officially
on the wee creatures.
However, the ground squirrel is not of
the same species
as our small gray
friends of the
squares near the
Capitol, and no
one need hesitate
in Washington to
feed peanuts or
gumdrops to the
timid pets with
"plumed" tails.
•"THE annals of
*• history have
seldom recorded a
memorial meeting
like that accorded
Mark Twain at
Carnegie Hall,New
York. The pur-
pose of the occa-
sion was expressed
by William Dean
Ho wells, the inti-
mate friend of the
late humorist, and
he insisted that the
event should not
be marked with
gravity; and peo-
ple laughed heart-
ily during the
course of a meet-
ing which is usu-
ally suffused with
solemnity — what a tribute to the genius
of Twain! The addresses by close personal
friends were touching tributes, not only
in words, but in incident. It was just such
a memorial meeting as Mark Twain would
have chosen for himself.
Friends were there who had known him
since the day of the "Jumping Frog of
Calaveras County " — one could almost see
him as he used to stand, delivering those in-
imitable talks which never were frivolous,
though the audience were convulsed, but
had underneath the humor a lesson for
each one to take to heart. Speaker Cannon
read the autograph letter in which Mark
aspired to be a real lobbyist, and wanted
to have the thanks of Congress because
he had kept away from it for seventy
years. "If you can't get Congress to pass
A TYPICAL SCENE IN THE TANGLE OF A NORTHERN FOREST
me a vote of thanks," said he to Uncle
Joe, "thank me yourself!"
The speeches made were widely divergent
in character, representing every section
of the country and almost every phase
of the universal appreciation of Mark
Twain. The glowing words of Colonel
Henry Watterson — what more beautiful
has ever been said of one who has passed?
Champ Clark's tribute to Twain as a lob-
byist shows that even the questionable
428
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
and opprobrious term "lobbyist" may ""TALKING of literature — why, it pours
have at times an honorable intent and * out like a torrent, even from the
interpretation. document room of the Government! A
recent book issued by the Smithsonian
Institute, compiled by Miss Frances
Densmore, promises to be in great demand
in public and private libraries. It con-
tains the ancient songs of the Chippewas,
musical score and all, together with char-
acterstic Indian hieroglyphics on birch-
bark rolls. Then too, there are portraits
of the living singers and some composers,
descendants of the warriors and songsters
of the Chippewa tribe. A great number
of chants are given with titles, and even
the peculiar words and meanings from
Mainans' ''Initiation Songs" to "The
Song of the Flying Feather," which is
not a zoological but a psychic chorus,
whose burden is,
" The feather
Is coming toward
The body of the Midewinini " —
and "Come, Let Us Drink," which has a
rather bacchanalian flavor. Here is the
"Song of Starvation" recorded with drums,
and a "Scalp Dance" without drums!
After a study of the score, one could
almost persuade himself that Wagner
must have received some of his inspiration
from the ponderous and weird arias of
Mainans. There is the song of the love-
lorn maiden whose lover has departed
never to return, and the favorite social
dance of the Chippewas, said to have
been learned from the Sioux — even a
"Song of Thanks for a Gift," whose words
are translated:
" I am very grateful
For what he is doing for me."
The book is more than a curiosity; it
is history, and few government publica-
tions have ever aroused such a keen in-
terest among students of the aboriginal-
Americans.
/GOVERNMENT officials and clerks
^-* sometimes play jokes on each other
at the Christ mast ide, when great, black-
bound books of government reports, laden
with the dust of ages, are tied up, decorated
with red ribbon and holly berries and sent
to some victim, "With the Compliments
of the Season." Imagine the countenance
of the recipient when the package has
Photo by Clinedinst
MISS MARGUERITE KNOX
Daughter of Colonel and Mrs. Knox, of the Soldiers
Home, Old Point Comfort, Virginia, who is the
guest of Miss Prances Miller in Washington this
season, and is a great favorite among the younger set
in army circles
J 'Jftwiwtf r/v/y/«//i .>««.'{.
P/Zt&U&AjL
y... y
THIS REMARKABLE ILLUSTRATION SHOWING THE GENEALOGY OP GEORGE WASHINGTON
WAS PREPARED BY MR. BUTLER, WHOSE VERY INTERESTING ARTICLE ON THE
WASHINGTON FAMILY APPEARS IN THIS ISSUE OF THE NATIONAL
430
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
been opened and he finds a veritable
library of tabulations on the food con-
ditions of a decade ago!
The joke is getting to be a pretty serious
one with some of the more sensitive souls
about the Census Office, who on receiving
Photo copyright by Clinedinst
MR. H. H. BRYN
The "new Norwegian minister to the United States
those antiqt.ated reports in lots of more
than "five feet in length," with sarcastic
reference to the five foot shelf recommended
by Doctor Eliot, open it up with the ex-
pectations of a complete Dumas or Balzac
only to find old tabular reports of the
Census office recently rescued on the
way to the junk hopper.
AN officer of the government remarked
** the other day that the over-abund-
ance of literary material is having a tre-
mendous deadening influence upon people's
mental digestion. There is so much in-
formation accessible on almost every
possible subject, that the old-time method
of "digging" for information and analyzing
it is almost obsolete.
No less a person than Senator Bailey
of Texas said that he felt that the broad-
cast scattering of so-called information
has had much to do with precluding the
proper presentation of fundamental truths
and thoughts. Think for a moment, and
you will realize that of the millions of
population reading the papers and making
the laws, few indeed are at all familiar
with constitutional and fundamental prin-
ciples. There is a flash of illuminating
thought here .and there, but very little
substance in the miasmatic aura of in-
formation that floats over the country day
by day through certain printed mediums.
MADAME H. H. BRYN
Wife of the new Norwegian Minister, who recently
arrived in Washington with her five children. She
is very wealthy and will entertain extensively this
winter in the capital city
Senator Bailey positively and abso-
lutely declined to take the leadership of
the minority in the Senate because of
his independent way of thinking and
constant chafing under the duress of party
associates who are trying to adjust the
sails to every public whim. No one can
deny the masterly ability of the Senator
from Texas, but ki§ temperament little
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
481
inclines him toward cut-and-dried leader-
ship. He likes nothing better than a good
debate and discussion of constitutional
questions, and is today considered one of
the foremost constitutional lawyers in
the Senate. He believes that government
interference with private rights is becoming
a serious menace. He is in open opposi-
tion to the government's policy of printing
prepaid envelopes for private consumers,
on the principle that if one line is thrown
open to the government, all lines should
be thrown open — that there is no more
DR. HARVEY W. WILEY
The government's pure food expert, who recently wed
Miss Anna Kelton, of Washington
reason for their doing this than for selling
coal or meat, and that individual rights
must be preserved as the basis of consti-
tutional privilege and the orinamme of
democracy, which are in danger of being
extinguished in the craze for centralization
of legislation.
JV/TEMORIES of the delightful blue-
*•** berrying parties in northern Maine
and {Wisconsin are recalled by a bulletin
of the Agricultural Department demon-
strating how blueberries can be madg a.
source of profit. It seems as if every
product and section of the United States
is being studied to aid the people in pro-
ducing something of market value. Many
a peat bog, after being drained for cran-
berries, has been found especially adapted
Photo copyright by Clinedinst
MRS. HARVEY W. WILEY
Formerly Miss Anna C. Kelton, who recently wed the
government's food expert
for the swamp blueberry, which is culti-
vated in much the same way as the cran-
berry. The cultivated blueberries have
always commanded a good market price,
and their large plump, pulpy berries, with
seeds almost unnoticed, will always remain
a favorite, although the whortleberry is
often sweeter and is a close rival.
The blueberry is in season for about
four months, shipped from South to North
and then from North to South, and is
perhaps the most distinctively American
fruit known. A large proportion of the
blueberries which find their way to market
have been picked by the Indians and
Acadian French of Maine and the prov-
inces, but the rich purple berry found in
the swamps and on the moors of Northern
Europe and Asia furnishes an immense
432
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
amount of vegetable food to the savage
tribes of both hemispheres. Now blue-
berries are to be domesticated in American
fields.
'T'HE very spirit of mutual co-operation
*" that founded the nation seemed revivi-
fied at the recent conference of the gover-
nors of the United States. The relations
between the several colonies during their
struggle for independence was recalled
every durable reform, hold fast to the
constitutional privileges which are after
all the sheet anchors of national safety.
The conference opened in the beautiful
new capitol at Frankfort, Kentucky,
and was concluded in Louisville, the
metropolis of the state. More business
was really transacted there than at
Washington, where other interests un-
necessarily detracted from undivided
attention to the purposes of the gathering.
After receiving a royal welcome to the
Photo by American Press Association
GOVERNORS' CONFERENCE, LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY
Reading left to right — Congressman Langley, of Kentucky; Wilson, of New Jersey; Mann, of Virginia; William
Jordan, secretary of conference; Davidson, of Wisconsin; Brown, of Georgia; Harmon, of Ohio; Noel, of Mis-
sissippi; Marshall, of Indiana; Hadley, of Missouri; Sloan, of Arizona; Plaisted, of Maine; Draper, of Massachuestts
more vividly than ever by the spirit
of common esteem and hope of future
co-operation for the great good ex-
pressed by the executives of all the
states. Ever since the first conference
was held at the White House four years
ago, there has been remarkable progress
in promoting an uniformity of laws in
the various states and an admirable unity
of purpose, such as was contemplated in
the Constitution of 'i 'the .United' States.
It means much when the governors of
the various commonwealths sit down to-
gether to discuss these great propositions,
and while endorsing and encouraging
state and city, gracefully expressed through
the Governor and Mayor of Frankfort,
Governor-elect Woodrow Wilson outlined
the aims and scope of the conference. His
belief that much good would come to the
people of all the states through an inter-
change of ideas in discussing the problems
of each several state as related to the
republic as a whole, inspired every gov-
ernor; and his statement that nearly
every great advance in popular govern-
ment had had its inception in an informal
gathering of men who were not official
representatives appointed by any special
authority, was a striking point.
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
433
On the second day, when the conference
had repaired to Louisville, Governor Eben
S. Draper of Massachusetts presided.
The chief subject was the conservation
of natural resources through state legisla-
tion. Many of the governors expressed
themselves in favor of state supervision,
though the consensus of opinion advocated
government control until some other defi-
nite plan could be universally agreed upon.
Workmen's compensation acts and many
other subjects were discussed. Nearly
primaries of the opposition. Governor
Draper called attention to the fact that
the direct primary would abolish the selec-
tion of men who were not avowedly and
formally candidates for office, and believed
that the expense of a campaign* based on
the direct primary would be quite as great
as that of the present convention system.
His opinion that it seemed objectionable
to have the voters of one party nominate
the candidate of another excited much
comment, and it was the opinion of most
PAULINE WAYNE
The Wisconsin cow, presented to President Taft by United States Senator Isaac Stephenson, arrived at the White
House. J. P. Torry, manager of Senator Stephenson's farm in Wisconsin, was Pauline's body guard. She will
provide milk for the Presidential family
every governor had a word to say the next
day on the question of direct nominations,
and while none spoke directly against it,
there was a general objection to changing
the old methods which have proven
efficacious for a hundred years, until they
knew just "what they were getting."
£lThe Governor-elect of Wisconsin spoke
exhaustively on the question, opposing the
consensus of the opinion of all other
governors who believed that if direct
nominations were to continue, there should
be some method of preventing the voters
of one party from taking part in the
of the governors that the people preferred
to defer the adoption of the direct nomina-
tion of candidates until several of the
existing obstacles to its satisfactory opera-
tion had been removed. Governor
Draper's declaration that he felt that the
attitude of the people of Massachusetts
was that of "sitting in judgment," re-
flected the conservative spirit of his state.
Another question — which was of personal
as well as of national interest to all the
governors — relafted to reciprocity in auto-
mobile laws. All the governors approved
of more generous treatment in each state,
434
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
to autoists from other states; and their
vigorous commendation of more uniform
auto laws may have been prompted by
lessons at the hands of that excellent
teacher, experience. The automobile laws of
Massachusetts and Connecticut were es-
pecially commended, and Governor Draper
was again called into the discussion.
In addition to the discussion of important
Photo by American Press Association
MRS. MOLLIE NETCHER
Owner of the Boston Store in Chicago. She recently
completed the largest . downtown realty deal ever
negotiated in Chicago, paying $2,900,000 to the Leiter
estate. She carries $1,000,000 life insurance
questions, and the amount of work ac-
complished, the members of the Conference
greatly enjoyed the unstinted and hearty
Kentuckian hospitality of Governor Willson
of the Blue Grass State, which the visiting
governors enthusiastically acknowledged.
The possibilities of these annual con-
ferences of the Governors of the states
cannot be over-estimated. Their purpose
is to bring about in a logical way policies
and laws which will establish and emphasize
the unity of the nation without in any way
imperiling the constitutional rights of
the states.
HTHE chief citadel that the suffragettes
1 will have to storm when they make
an assault on the Capital city is the Inter-
state Commerce Building in F Street.
Rising high with steeple and gables, the
headquarters of the Interstate Commerce
Commission have maintained barred doors
against the business woman. The Civil
Service Commission has repeatedly at-
tempted to abrogate the unwritten law
of the department, which has been able
to hold its own against feminine invasion.
Somehow, when one enters the new Inter-
state Commerce Commission building, there
seems to be a different atmosphere than
in any other department of the govern-
ment. There is a sort of stern masculinity
that is in a measure depressing. The
telephone exchange had to provide a
male operator, but during his absence the
company was obliged to install a young
lady, who, though not on the payroll of
the Commission, holds forth as the only
woman associated with the work of the
Commission.
The Interstate Commerce Commission,
be it understood, has assiduously kept
out women employes for a reason. The
technical and brain-racking work of the
Commission, in grappling with rates and
all the intricacies involved in the different
suits pending, requires "staying" strength
and strong nerves, and a large portion
of the expert clerical force has been re-
cruited from railroad offices. Many times
the lights in the Commission building are
burning bright far into the wee hours,
and vexatious details and figures are ex-
amined and puzzled over.
The department has stood firmly for
thirty years in its determination to exclude
women employes, but as to the future —
who can say?
•"THE average editor would hardly be
•*• justified in retaining his emoluments
and prestige if he failed to comment, with
an extra inflection on the "we" — upon
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
435
the presidential message. How the annual
message will be received by over one
hundred millions of people now "cen-
sussed" under the folds of the Stars and
Stripes must be seriously considered
during its preparation. Every word must
be weighed, and this year's message is
handed down, as it were, "from the bench,"
for it has the true judicial tone of impartial
consideration and final decision. There
were vexatious phases and problems to
be considered, and it took a large number
of words to tell the story, but President
Taft's message for 1910 is in many respects
a remarkable document.
While it fails to go far enough to please
the ardent Progressives; or to altogether
suit the ultra-Conservatives, it seems to
find the medium, and to reach the people.
Suggesting that we have gone now far
enough in making laws it advises that it
is best to try out existing laws and see
how far they are in line with substantial
and enduring public sentiment.
As in most of President Taft's public
utterances, he manages to squeeze into
the last paragraph words that have a
journalistic ring, and the lines just pre-
ceding the signature embody an assurance
that has quieted the fears of many, and
given courage to those who feared that
he might surrender to the presence of
reactionary sentiment.
Line by line, and paragraph by para-
graph, every part of the message indicates
a thorough weighing and adjustment of
conditions and policies. One could almost
fancy that a pair of scales had been used
in which all matters were fairly balanced,
and that the spirit of justice, fairness and
conscientiousness in the message as a
whole commends it as a most worthy
state paper.
E probable effect of the operation of
the Postal Savings Banks is arousing
the interest of students of the monetary
situation. It is believed that under this
system an entirely new class will become
money-savers, and that some of the two
billion dollars in currency in the United
States, now hidden away, will find its
way back into the channels of trade
through the Postal Savings fund. At
the present time, only one-third of the
legal money of the United States is in the
possession of the banks.
Under the new system, any individual
over ten years of age may be a depositor,
even if he banks only the ten cents he
saved on soda water, for which he will
receive an official card representing his
deposit. For each succeeding ten cents
the depositor receives a stamp which the
receiving teller cancels as a sign that the
money has been deposited. When nine
LOUIS D. BRANDEIS
Who stated before the Interstate Commerce Commis-
sion that the railroads were wasting $1,000,000 a day
through inefficient management. At a conference of
railroad presidents he was offered a salary of $250,000
per year if he could point out the alleged mismanagement
of these stamps are received, the depositor
really opens his account with the Postal
Savings Bank, and secures his identifica-
tion book, which records the amount of
his deposit. Only five hundred dollars
may be accumulated by any one depositor,
which may be converted into government
bonds. Sixty thousand post offices and
forty thousand rural free delivery routes
will be depositaries for savings. The
money received will not be kept in the
local post office, but transferred to the
nearest national or state bank officially
designated by the government. Govern-
436
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
ment depositors will receive two per cent postmasters — one from each state — were
on their deposits, while the banks holding in Washington during the holidays re-
the postal savings funds will pay the ceiving final instructions before launching
government two and one-quarter per cent the great project for postal savings.
interest, and the one-quarter of one per
MME. ALI KULI KHAN
Wife of the Charge d'affaires of Persia. She will be the
official chatelaine of the Shah's legation in Washington.
The background of this picture is embroidered with two
thousand real pearls
cent will, it is thought, cover the expense
of the institutions to the government.
The government bonds are artistic in
appearance; the twenty-dollar bond bears
a handsome engraving of George Wash-
ington, and vies in artistic design and
color with the most attractive mining
certificates or wild-cat securities.
While new in America, the Postal
Savings arrangement has long been es-
tablished in Europe. It was first worked
out in England according to the ideas of
one Charles W. Sykes, a Yorkshire book-
keeper, who was afterward knighted by
the King. His plan has also been practic-
cally adopted by Russia, France, Italy,
Japan, Sweden, Canada and other coun-
tries, and has always met with success.
The twelve Pacific coast and intermountain
states, including Colorado and Texas,
were the first to launch the banks. Twelve
But with all the well-laid plans and
experiments in other countries, it is felt
by some keen observers that the Postal
Savings Bank system in America is yet
to be proven a success, and that it will
take at least several years before its real
value will be generally recognized.
MRS. CHAMP CLARK
Wife of Hon. Champ Clark, who will undoubtedly be
the next Speaker of the House of Representatives
DUBLIC spirit has given impetus to the
* idea of forming a commercial tribunal
similar to that of the Supreme Court,
which might represent the ambition of
every man engaged in commercial lines,
as the Supreme Court is now the ambition
of^ every youth who passes the bar as a
body of the most eminent business men
in the country. Commercial problems
are now becoming so complex that it is
felt that something more than mere legal
knowledge and information is necessary to
pass upon great business questions at issue.
Impressive honesty and frankness were
voiced in the address of George W. Perkins
HON. CHAMP CLARK, OF MISSOURI
He will be the next Speaker of the House of Representatives
This picture shows him as he really
43$
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
as he faced a gathering of business men in
New York and talked on the practical
business affairs of today. He placed his
watch on the table before him and timed
his remarks for exactly one hour, just as one
would schedule a certain hour or half hour
for a business interview.
Photo copyright by Clinedinst
BENJAMIN CLARK
Son of H6n. and Mrs. Champ Clark
For years Mr. Perkins has been one of
the most active men in the great United
States Steel Corporation, and his retirement
from the firm of J. Pierpont Morgan & Co.,
to study social and economic problems,
is a laudable ambition. An ardent ad-
vocate of a Commercial Court to which
all business men might aspire, if their
ability and record proved them worthy,
Mr. Perkins held the attention of every
man who listened to his stirring address.
He discoursed on the elimination of de-
tails as a time-saver, and in giving an
example remarked that as an office boy in
Cleveland, he had observed that the
envelopes sent out were always addressed
to the individual, to the firm, city, coun-
ty, state and "U. S. A.," with the street
number carefully affixed in the corner.
"Cuyahoga County" was never omitted,
but today few people know that there is
such a county, and many do not even write
the state on the address.
The boiindary lines of states and even
countries are growing to mean less and less
each and every year. Now this is further
made possible by advertising; the adver-
tising and prominent publicity of a place
or person familiarizes the people, includ-
ing the postal clerks, with its location.
State and county lines are still further
effaced by the adoption of modern con-
Miss GENEVIEVE CLARK
Daughter of Hon. and Mrs. Champ Clark
veniences and inventions — upon repeating
only a few numbers to a telephone ex-
change, the human voice can be heard for
hundreds of miles; one may be trans-
ported hundred of miles in a few hours.
These conditions must be taken into
consideration in the reorganization and
re-establishment of new allignments in the
economic world.
It is a great, an interesting and fascinat-
ing study, but there are great minds at
work on the problems and they will be
solved in a satisfactory manner.
A DAY IN WASHINGTON'S COUNTRY
By JOSEPH G. BUTLER, JR.
patriotic American knows that
the ancestors of the immortal George
Washington — first in war, first in peace,
and first in the hearts of his countrymen —
came from England; but few know the
exact locality from whence they came,
and a smaller number still have visited the
region.
While in England during the month of
August last, I was attracted by an adver-
tisement of one of the many tours running
in all directions from London — "A DAY
IN WASHINGTON'S COUNTRY." I immedi-
ately decided to make the journey to the
place where the ancestors of our first
President were born, where they lived,
where they worshipped, where they died,
and where they are buried.
The day, August 18, was bright and
pleasant. The train left Euston Station,
London, early in the morning with a
special car attached for Northampton,
eighty-two 'miles distant. From the ex-
tensive advertising given the excursion,
I anticipated having a score, at least, of
Americans as fellow-travelers, anxious to
visit the promised land. My surprise was
great when it was made known to me that
I was the sole excursionist, or, if I may so
express it, the one patriot mustered in for
that particular day. However, I am
pleased to add that the London & North-
western Railway Company carried out
the terms of the round trip contract with
the same exactness and fidelity as if the
party had been of large dimensions.
At Northampton a very competent
guide met the train; after a diligent quest,
he failed to discover the large party ex-
pected. I was taken through and around
the historic town from which Northamp-
ton, Massachusetts, is named — the home
of one of our great American Women's
Colleges.
A word in passing about Northampton —
a county borough — under the government
of a mayor and town council.
The mayoralty is an ancient office,
running back to the latter part of the
Twelfth Century. Laurence Washington —
great-great-grandfather of George Washing-
ton— was mayor in 1533 and again in 1556,
serving two terms at different periods.
The town dates back to Roman occu-
pation, and the remains of the ancient
Roman wall are shown. The town is also
mentioned in Domesday Book, as "North-
amtone." Saxon and Dane and Norman
successively occupied the territory, and
many events prominent in English history
are associated and connected with the
locality. Danes' Camp is shown the
visitor; and Bishop Thomas a Becket's
well is walled in and pointed out, where
the great Saint and Martyr, disguised as
a monk, took a drink before his final
flight — all of which is familiar in history
and tradition.
The place contains a number of ancient
churches, two of which are quite noted:
St. Peter's Church and All Saints' Church,
both dating from the Twelfth Century. I
copied an inscription from the outside
of the front wall of All Saints' Church:
"HERE UNDER LYETH
JOHN BAILES BORN IN THIS
TOWN, HE WAS ABOVE 126
YEARS OLD & HAD HIS HEARING
SIGHT AND MEMORY TO YE LAST
HE LIVED IN 3 CENTURYS
& WAS BURIED YE 14TH OF APR
1706"
I was shown two very ancient houses,
one known as "The Welsh House," and
the other as "Cromwell's House." I
copied fron the principal window in the
Welsh House this motto, in Welsh:
"Heb Dyw. Heb Dym. Dwya Digon,
i. e. 1595," which renderred into English
reads: "Without God, without every-
thing; God, and enough."
The Cromwell House is where Crom-
well slept the night before the Battle of
Naseby, which is commemorated by a
fine monument erected over the battle
field a few miles distant.
440)
442
A DAY IN WASHINGTON'S COUNTRY
Among other noted places I saw "Queen
Eleanor's Cross," about one mile from the
town erected by King Edward I, in the
Thirteenth Century, the main reason for
the cross being to induce passers-by to
pause and pray for the eternal welfare
of the soul of the beloved Queen.
Also St. John's Hospital, founded in
1183, still in use and in good repair; and
Abington Abbey, dating from the Four-
teenth Century, and of particular historic
interest by reason of its early ownership.
Sir John Bernard married, for his second
companion, Elizabeth, the daughter of
Susannah Shakespeare's eldest daughter —
the wife of Dr. Hall of Stratford-on-Avon
— so that one of the descendants of the
great Bard of Avon lived in the Abbey as
its last mistress.
David Garrick, the great actor of the
Eighteenth Century, planted a mulberry
tree upon the lawn, which still lives and
produces fruit. It is duly authenticated
by a bronze plate, properly inscribed.
Much space would be taken up in re-
cording even a brief reference to the many
historical places and incidents interwoven
in the history of Northampton, and inci-
dentally in the history of England; so we
pass on.
After the tour through the town with
the guide, we lunched at the George Hotel,
an ancient hostelry with a decided "Dick-
ens flavor." After luncheon a large,
first-class automobile — or motor, as it is
called in England — was placed at my dis-
posal. With a competent chauffeur and
with the guide as a fellow-passenger, the
journey was resumed.
Our first stop was at the little village
of Ecton, five miles from Northampton,
where was born Josiah Franklin, who
married young and emigrated with his
wife and three children to New England
in 1682. Dr. Benjamin Franklin was the
youngest son of Josiah Franklin by a
second marriage.
We found in the little churchyard a
Franklin gravestone inscribed as follows:
"HERE LYETH THE BODY OP THOMAS
FRANKLIN WHO DEPARTED THIS
LIFE JANUARY 6TH ANNO DOM 1702,
IN THE SIXTY FIFTH YEAR OF HIS
AGE."
I saw the cottage where the ancestors of
Franklin were born. It is still in a fine
state of preservation. After the property
was permitted to pass out of the hands of
the Franklin family, the cottage was en-
larged a.nd made over into a school which
is still known as the "Franklin School."
During our Revolutionary troubles, Dr.
Franklin spent much of his time in Eng-
land and France and often visited Ecton.
But, notwithstanding these visits, the
property and ancestral home were ac-
quired by strangers.
Our next halt was at Althrop house,
the home of the Spencer family and famous
for its magnificent collection of paintings,
the gallery containing examples by Sir
Joshua Reynolds, Gainsborough, Van
Dyck, Holbein, Murillo, Raphael, Romney,
Rubens, and others of equal reputation.
The Earl of Spencer had just died, and
his remains were lying in state at the time
of the visit. As we passed through the
churchyard, his grave was being dug, as
it was his last request that he be buried
alongside of his wife, although all of his
ancestors were entombed in the nave of
Great Brington church, dating back to
the Thirteenth Century. These Spencer
monuments are all in good condition and
illustrate the costumes of the various
periods. In this same church are buried
members of the Washington family. In
the chancel is a funeral slab, placed in
memory of Laurence Washington, who
died in 1616. At the foot of the slab are
carved these lines:
"THOU THAT BY CHANCE OR CHOYCE OF
THIS HATH SIGHT,
"KNOW LIFE TO DEATH RESIGNS AS DAY
TO NIGHT;
"BUT AS THE SUNNS RETORNE REVIVES THE
DAY
"SO CHRIST SHALL US, THOUGH TURNED TO
DUST AND CLAY."
The slab was broken and some of the
inscription illegible, but the care-taker
informed us that the death of Margaret
Butler, wife of Laurence Washington, was
also recorded, and that her remains were
buried beside. her husband. In any event,
history records that this Laurence Wash-
ington's wife's maiden name was Butler.
In the chancel is another memorial slab,
recording the death of Robert Washington,
brother of Laurence, and his wife, Eliza-
beth Washington, bearing this inscription:
"HERE LIES INTERRED YE BODIES OF
ELIZAB. WASHINGTON WIDDOWE
444
A DAY IN WASHINGTON'S COUNTRY
WHO CHANGED THIS LIFE FOR IM-
MORTALLITIE^YE 19TH OF MARCH,
1622. AS ALSO YE BODY OF ROBERT
WASHINGTON, GENT. HER LATE
HUSBAND SECOND SONNE OF ROB-
ERT WASHINGTON OF SOLGRAVE IN
YE COUNTY OF NORTH WHO DE-
PARTED THIS LIFE YE 10TH OF
MARCH, 1622, AFTER THEY LIVED
LOVINGLY TOGETHER."
Robert Washington, as the monument
shows, had a "Roosevelt" family, eight
sons and nine daughters. Two of the
sons became, respectively, Sir John Wash-
ington, Knight of Thrapston, and the Rev.
Laurence Washington, Rector of Purleigh,
Essex, whose eldest son, John, emigrated
to America in 1657, and was the great
grandfather of George Washington, the
President. Both the slabs referred to
bear the Washington coat of arms, the
distinguishing features of which are
three mullets and two bars (Stars and Bars)
In this connection, a letter received
from the Rector of Great Brington Church
is copied, or rather that portion referring
to the Washington ancestry. The letter
is in response to one I wrote, asking for
information as to the official parish
records:
"Great Brington Rectory
Northampton
19th August, 1910
To Joseph G. Butler, Jr.
Dear Sir: —
The only marriage entry of the
Washingtons is that of Amy Washington to
Philip Curtis, on August 8th, 1620. Amy
Washington was a daughter of Robert.
Laurence Washington was buried on December
15th, 1616, and his name is entered in the
burial register. The only other Washing-
tons mentioned in the register are: —
"Robert Washington, buried March llth,
1622, and Elizabeth Washington, buried
March 25th, of the same year."
In a church roll which is in my possession,
dated 1606, a pew assigned on the south side
to Robert Washington and his wife, and a
bench outside for his men servants.
I am sorry I have no further information
to give you respecting the family.
Yours faithfully,
(Signed) WILLIAM MARTIN, B. D.
Rector of Brington."
Thrapston is a small market town,
twenty-two miles from Northampton.
Our visit to this place was brief, but the
information obtained is of value.
Sir John Washington lived and was
buried in Thrapston. He was the uncle
of the two Washingtons who emigrated to
and founded the Washington family in
America.
At the west entrance of the Church of
St. James, the well-known coat of arms
and crest are carved in stone. The
Parish Register contains these records:
BAPTISM
1624— PHILLIPUS WASHINGTON FILIUS
JOHANN WASHINGTON ARMI-
GER DE THRAPSTON 27 DECEM-
BRIS.
1632— ELIZABETH WASHINGTON FILIA
JOHANN WASHINGTON (KNIGHT
EQUITIS AURATI SEPULTA FRIT
DIE JULY 1632.
1639— GUIjLfllEM US WASHINGTON
GENEROSUS SELPULTUS ERAT
MARTY 25, 1639.
1668— THE WRIGHT WORSHIPFUL SUR
JOHN WASHINGTON, KNIGHT
AND BARRENNIT MAY 18, 1668.
We next motored to Little Brington,
which contains, and which we inspected,
a small stone house, known as " Washing-
ton's House," and is regarded as the home
of the Washingtons after their retirement
from Sulgrave.
Over the doorway, upon a smooth,
rectangular-shaped stone, are carved these
words: "The Lord giveth, the Lord
taketh away; blessed be the name of the
Lord. Constructa 1606."
Near this house is a sun dial, bearing
the Washington Arms, and "R. W. 1617,"
probably the initials of Robert Washington,
buried in Great Brington Church Chancel.
We next visited the church of St. Mary's
at Sulgrave. This is where the Washing-
tons worshipped and are buried. At the
east end of the South Aisle is a slab of gray
stone on which were originally six brasses,
put down as memorials of Laurence Wash-
ington and his family. Three of the
brasses were removed or stolen by some
unknown vandal and three remain, viz. :
Laurence Washington's own effigy, a
shield of the Washington Arms, and an-
other containing the following inscription:
"HERE LYETH BURIED YE BODYS OF
LAURENCE WASHINGTON GENT. &
ANNE HIS WYF BY WHOM HE HAD
ISSUE iiij SONS & ij DAUGHTS WC
LAURENCE DYED YE ... DAY ....
ANO 15 . . & ANNE DECEASED THE VJ
OF OCTOBER ANO DNI 1564."
It would appear from the inscription
that Laurence Washington put down the
monument after the death of his wife and
left a blank space for the date of his own
death, which occurred in 1584, but this
has not been added.
Our final pilgrimage was to the famous
Sulgrave Manor, or, as it is now known,
OAK STAIRCASE, SULGRAVE MANOR
446
A DAY IN WASHINGTON'S COUNTRY
the Washington Manor. The property
is owned by Mr. Reynell Peck of Nether-
ton, of whom more later on, and is leased
to a farmer tenant, whose name I did not
learn. The manor proper is occupied by
the tenant and a large family. The care-
taker is Miss Anna Cave, who apologized
for her appearance by the statement that
the "sweep" had just finished his work.
Chimney sweeps are still in vogue in
England. Notwithstanding her begrimed
dress and somewhat smutty face, Miss
Cave was still a comely lass and proved
an interesting mine of information, be-
sides furnishing for a nominal consider-
ation some fine photographs.
The Manor of Sulgrave was granted
to Laurence Washington by Henry VIII
in 1538, upon dissolution of the Monaster-
ies. Evidently more had been laid out
and contemplated than was 'carried out.
The manor is of stone and the interior of
solid oak. Some of the beams which I
measured are two feet in thickness. The
old oaken stairway is shown in the photo-
graph, as well as the kitchen. Upstairs all
are sleeping rooms, all these rooms are in
good condition. The particular room
where was born Laurence Washington,
the great-great-grandfather of President
Washington, was pointed out; and prob-
ably the information is correct.
On the lower floor are the remains of a
room, evidently a private chapel, but now
used as a hall. On each side of the wall
appear carvings, which are illustrated also.
The house has a high gabled roof, upon the
outside of which appear the Arms of the
Washington family. If any doubt exists
as to the origin of the American flag, this
should dispel the suspicion as it is re-
peated wherever the Washington family
are in evidence and is always the same.
There are a number of outhouses of
stone and one very large barn, which, with
the manor, are in fairly good repair when
it is considered that no one with any par-
ticular patriotic motive is connected with
the property.
It seems a strange anomaly that the
birthplace of the ancestors of our first
and greatest President should be in the
hands of aliens to America. It at once
occurred to me that the property should
be acquired by one of our patriotic so-
cieties, put into proper condition and be
provided with an endowment fund suf-
ficient to care for and maintain it for all
time to come, making of it a veritable
"mecca" for all patriotic Americans
visiting Europe.
With this idea in mind, I obtained from
Miss Cave the address of the owner.
Upon my return to London, I wrote him
as to his willingness to dispose of the
manor. I received a most courteous
reply, indicating that he would sell,
adding, however, that the estate had been
in his family for many generations and
that he was not anxious to dispose of it.
It is, therefore, my intention to bring
the matter of a purchase or lease of the
property to the attention of a number of
our patriotic organizations, with the
earnest wish that something definite may
result therefrom.
Our very able Ambassador in London,
Hon. Whitelaw Reid, is in sympathy with
the suggestion and expressed his willing-
ness to co-operate; and I will be glad, in
my humble way, to assist in securing the
estate both by attention and by a liberal
contribution.
Youngstown, Ohio, December 1, 1910.
Author of "Just Back From Mars" "My Boy Charlie" "Caleb Koons" etc.
rER since my sensational ex-
perience with Keeley the "motor
man" in the great ethero-plane,
I chafed and fretted to visit
the fiery planet once more and study
further into the ways and habits of the
interesting people I met with on my
former visit. Bending all my energies
to the task I rapidly constructed another
ethero-plane, larger and better equipped
than the first, in which labor I was assisted
by my shadowy friend Keeley. There
was no difficulty this time in procuring
financial backing; in fact I was over-
whelmed with an avalanche of letters
proffering aid and asking a million or so
questions, wise and otherwise. Ever
since the thrilling account of my adven-
tures was published solely in the columns
of the NATIONAL MAGAZINE* this corre-
spondence poured in upon me requiring
the assistance of several secretaries to
attend to it and to sort out from the
general mass whatever might be really
useful to me on my intended voyage to
Mars.
"Keeley," I said positively, as that
ingenious "discarnate intelligence" sat
in my workshop regarding my efforts
with ghostly approval, "Keeley, I am de-
termined not to make this trip unless one
man, just one man goes with me."
Keeley nodded sagely, and twirled the
big diamond in his soiled shirt-front.
"You understand?" I queried.
"Of course. There's only one man in
these United States at present.
"Not necessary to name him," he added.
"Native modesty and habitual self -repres-
sion will enable him to keep the secret
for a few days. But how are you going
to persuade him to go? His time is so full
* August and September, 1910.
with mundane affairs; hardly looks like he
can cut out enough to run over to Mars."
"I've thought of a plan," I answered.
"I went to see the publishers and backers
of the 'World's-Lookout,' and represented
to them the enormous advantages that
will accrue to the promoters of such an
expedition."
"Did you forget to mention the ton of
radium you lost in your last runaway?"
asked Keeley.
"No, I did not. I dwelt on that briefly,
but I saw that the bait was attractive.
I represented the immense influence
for good that such a weapon could wield
in the fight with the Corporations. That
settled it. Tight fire with fire,' cried the
leading 'influence' behind the scenes.
'Teddy will go. Only, nobody must know
anything about it till he comes back.' "
Keeley sat up and regarded me sternly.
"Now, see here, Kenyon," he said, "quit
that kidding. Some things are possible
in this world, and in Mars, but when it
comes to hiding Teddy under a bushel
for three weeks so tight that nobody will
know he's anywheres 'round — oh, get out!"
And my "guide" leaned back in his chair
in disgust.
I informed my shadowy partner that
the thing had been carefully evolved in
the editorial sanctum. We had gone over
all the objections and arranged for every
one. Teddy was to know nothing of the
scheme till all was ready for the start.
Then the Committee of Arrangements
who drew all the maps for Teddy's aero-
nautic campaigns across the continents
would arrange a speech before the Asso-
ciated Orders of War Veterans at a point
not more than a few miles distant from
my shop. After the speech the dis-
tinguished Colonel was to be conveyed
(447)
448
TEDDY'S TRIP TO MARS
in a touring car to a nearby town, the
driver was to get lost and the party pass
my shop. The rest was easy. The director
of the party, now reduced to two of the
editorial staff and the redoubtable Colonel,
were to be met by myself; introductions
would ensue; the purpose of my voyage
explained; the great ethero-plane exhibited
all a-tremble with power for the flight,
and the Colonel would be invited to take
the seat of honor beside me and make a
dash to Mars.
"Do you think he will stand that?"
I inquired of Keeley.
"Not on your sweet life," replied that
worthy, grinning with appreciation.
"Say," he added, "I'm glad I intro-
duced you to my atomic force. You can
come back, I reckon."
"Teddy can, anyhow," I answered.
"But, you see, the dear public can't know
where he is, for the staff will keep mum,
and there is no ethero-wireless as yet.
The only thing shakes me a trifle is the
fear that somebody will want to arrest
those editors for murder."
Keeley laughed sardonically. "Quit
that!" he said. "Don't you know nobody
can kill Teddy? He's a bit too previous.
Go ahead with your scheme. I'll help all
I can."
So it fell out that the wished-for op-
portunity arrived in good shape. The
ethero-plane was all ready to cast loose;
every provision had been made for the
voyage; the speech was delivered amidst
the uproarious applause of the Associated
Orders; the big touring car started on its
rapid run and soon reached the vicinity
of my mountain shop, where, concealed
by ingenious barricades, the work had
been carried on without setting the world
agog. I heard the "honk! honk! honk!"
of the car and turned to Keeley.
"Here he is!" I cried enthusiastically.
"Now, Keeley, I count on you doing all
you can to persuade him to go."
"Shows all you know about psychics,"
growled Keeley, beginning to fade from
view. "I can't visualize before him. He'd
knock out all the ghosts of his ancestors
at a clip. You've got to paddle your own
canoe this time."
I rushed down just in time to greet the
touring party, and in a few moments it
burst upon me that I was privileged to
entertain the only living ex-President
of the great United States. Of course under
the circumstances it soon leaked out that
I was the man who made the extraordinary
first trip to our planetary neighbor. The
Colonel was awake at once.
"Are you the chap that made that in-
terstellar dash?" he queried.
I replied with becoming modesty that
I was.
"And it was no fake — the real thing?"
I assured him on this point.
"When are you going to start?"
"In half an hour."
"Who is going with you?"
"There can be only one passenger."
"Ah! How long will it take?"
I made a hasty mental calculation based
upon Mars' present distance of some sixty
million miles, and the speed I had been
able to attain when dashing down the
Milky Way, and replied with assurance:
"About sixty hours, Colonel."
"Good!" he ejaculated. "Can we do
the planet in a week?"
I caught at his assumption of the "we,"
and replied carelessly: "Oh yes, we can
see most everything in that time."
"And get back in another four days?"
"Yes."
The next query was fired at close
quarters, the Colonel's eyes blazing with
interest.
"What sort of a man do you want for
passenger?"
"He must have decided qualifications,"
I replied, measuring my words. "He must
possess unusual confidence in his own
resources."
"Hm!"
"He must have initiative."
"Hm!"
"He must know how to adapt himself
to all sorts of conditions and all sorts of
people."
"Hm!"
"He must have ready courage, positive
action, unlimited assurance of success,
no hesitation about grappling with dif-
ficulties no matter how appalling, a fair
knowledge of most everything, and magnet-
ism to make up for the things he don't
know. He must —
"Hm! hm! I see, I see," broke in the
TEDDY'S TRIP TO MARS
449
Colonel, laying his hand on the vibrodyne
—I forgot to mention I had showed my
guests the machinery and arrangements.
"Let me see, Mr. Kenyon, do you think — "
He paused a moment, and I saw that
self -repression was struggling with the
personal equation and getting the worst
of the fight.
"Do you think I will do, Mr. Kenyon?"
he suddenly exploded.
"The place is for you, Colonel," I re-
plied, with my best bow, "and you are
the man for the place."
While I was dimly wondering if I had
trespassed on Mr. Petronius' masterly
reply to Nero concerning the spectacle
of burning Rome, the Colonel grabbed
my hand and squeezed the tears from my
eyes as he shouted :
"D-e-e-lighted! Let's start at once."
Our plan had succeeded. A few part-
ing words of advice to the "staff" enjoined
strictest secrecy as to our movements
until the public curiosity had been worked
up to the highest pitch; then it was sug-
gested that hints be thrown out of another
planet subjugated and another realm of
space unlocked, and all things prepared for
a tremendous home-coming reception upon
a world-wide scale. Then we were off.
I gave the repulsion transmitter to my
distinguished passenger and directed him
how to manipulate it. Manipulation
came easy to him, and the great ethero-
plane rose majestically above the trees
of the Blue Ridge.
"What will you christen this ship?"
yelled one of the "staff" from below. I
caught up the wine bottle and yelled in
reply as I broke it over the window-sill:
"Oyster Bay! and no bar!"
"Good!" cried my companion. "Good-
bye, boys. Keep things effervescing till
I come back."
II
There were several things on this trip
that excited the interest of my Passenger.
I use a capital P, for there was only the
one. When the indicators showed a
speed of a million miles an hour the Colonel
expressed his wonder at the absence of
all jar or swish or swing.
"One would not know we were moving
at all," he said.
I explained that all sense of motion is
relative; we only know we move by seeing
some object stand still or move in another
direction; or else we know we move by
feeling the swish of the air against us.
I said:
"When you look from a car window you
gauge your speed by the nearest objects,
the telegraph poles, fence posts and the
like. The farther objects, like distant hills,
do not give you any sense of speed. Now,
in this case, we have no near objects to
look at. If they were near we would not
see them because of our immense velocity.
There goes a meteorite now" — a sharp
"ping!" was heard on the outer wall. "We
couldn't see it; it moved too fast."
"Then you mean to say," exclaimed the
Colonel, "that one can move with such
velocity that one loses all appreciation
of that velocity and seems to stand still?"
"Exactly, Colonel," I replied, looking
him squarely in the eye.
"Hm!" he said. "I never thought 1'of
that."
"On my first trip," I continued, "I
learned much from my 'guide,' Mr. Keeley.
He reminded me that the sun and stars
are all moving at frightful speed, but no-
body on said spheres knows anything of it.
And a single lone man, flying through space
at equal velocity, has no possible means of
realizing that he is moving at all unless —
"Unless what?" broke in my impatient
listener.
"Unless he encounters some resistance,
or passes near some other body, say within
a few thousand miles. Then — "
"Ah! I have it!" cried the Colonel.
"Well, I must confess this thing seems
slow. I'd rather have some resistance.
I want to see the sparks fly ; 'I want to zhee
ze wheels go round.' My policy is like
dynamite — always busts the strongest
resistance first. You've noticed that
probably?"
I confessed I had observed it.
"I'm after the thief!" he cried, waving
his arms vigorously in the air. "That
means the resistance. What's the use of
strength and power in the world if you
don't use it on something. Yank 'em out.
Shake the stuffing — but, my dear Kenyon,
this is confidential, you know. One must
be discreet before the public."
450
TEDDY'S TRIP TO MARS
This matter of realizing one's own speed
seemed to interest the Colonel. He re-
curred to it several times.
"It makes me begin to realize the in-
significance of our two-cent earth, after
all," he observed, when in quieter mood.
"Just to think, a man may be whisking
through space twenty-four million miles
a day, and feel as steady as a rock, not
knowing he is going some. Queer! isn't
it? Hm! Hm! Now everything I have
been used to sends the blood tingling and
the breath quickening and the heart
pounding. It is my policy always to see
results; I want to feel something give way
every now and then."
"I suppose something will give way,
Colonel," I observed, "one of these days
when two stars strike together in midocean,
so to speak."
"You bet it will," he answered, "but,
say, that is too slow; too remote. May
have to wait a million years to see it. And
then, if it happens to you, you won't see
it at all. Oh, come back! My policy is to
do the thing yourself, and to do it now.
You hear me? I don't like standing off
and letting somebody else do it. Do it
yourself, and do it now! that's my motto.
Say! when are we due?"
"We will arrive in just five hours," I
replied. "It may be that the Martian
telescopes in the government observatory
have picked us before this. Anyhow we
can count on a warm reception."
The Colonel buried himself in the Es-
peranto Primer, which he had already
studied for hours at a time, and I cleared
the decks, so to speak, for action and
steered the ethero-plane for the Martian
Capital as best I could.
When we swung down gracefully through
the Martian atmosphere and drew near
enough to open our windows, we saw that
great preparations had been made for
our landing. The population were out
en masse; brightly colored booths and
stands had been erected, and the music
of bands floated up on the still air. I may
remark that there are very few and unim-
portant storms on Mars, owing to the
thinness of his atmosphere and other
causes. When I mentioned this to T. R.
he shook his head and expressed a fear
that the inhabitants must be "molly-
coddles." It takes resistance to develop
a sturdy race, he said. But the rest of
his remarks were postponed by a mighty
cheer that made the ethero-plane tremble
as we touched the ground not far from
the stands before mentioned. I was about
to present my companion, and was actually
clearing my throat as a preliminary, when
he astonished me and the natives as well
by springing out of the window, standing
lightly on the ledge and retaining his hold
with his left hand while with his right he
waved the Stars and Stripes and yelled
in choice Esperanto:
"Greetings, Martians! I bring you the
good-will of the greatest people on Earth.
My name is —
A roar from the crowd took shape in
the sounds:
"T. R.— T. R.— T. R. P. P. Teddy!
Teddy! Teddy!"
It was delivered in truly college yell
fashion, and almost lifted one's hair with
its force. As if in reply to my mental
query how on Mars did they know his
name, I heard a chuckle in the corner of
the ethero-plane pilot house and turning
my gaze thither, saw my old friend and
guide, Keeley.
"Did you do this, Keeley?" I inquired.
"Sure," replied the shadow. "Several
discarnates have passed over lately, and
I commissioned some of them to step on
in advance and submit the news to the
Major who helped you when you were
here before — the military man who knew
Esperanto; you remember him. He is
a good psychic and caught onto the thing
immediately. Pretty rousing reception
that, wasn't it?"
While he was imparting this informa-
tion T. R. had been busy as usual. Treat-
ing the small outer deck of the ethero-
plane as if it had been the rear platform
of a transcontinental Pullman, he swung
himself down to the ground and was im-
mediately surrounded by an admiring
crowd of Martians, each eager to get a
word with him and to wring his hand.
In short my occupation was gone. There
was nothing for me to do except to hunt
for my Major friend and see what arrange-
ments could be made to tour the planet
TEDDY'S TRIP TO MARS
451
in the shortest possible time and at the
most advantageous terms.
One thing however puzzled me and I
sought the seclusion of the pilot house
to ascertain if Keeley would enlighten
me. I wanted to know the meaning of
the "P. P." after T. R. in the Martian yell.
"Can't you get onto that?" asked Keeley.
"Why, that's just dead easy."
"It might be 'power of attorney' for
the Earth," I suggested cautiously. Keeley
laughed.
"That's good," he assented. "Or it
might be 'Perennial President,' or Popular
Person. You can take your choice. He's
likely to be all of them before he gets
through. But I reckon it stands for Pro-
gressive Promoter."
T. R. certainly was popular on Mars.
He captured the entire planet in a light-
ning tour of a week. I proposed traveling
by the Martian Gyroscope railways, but
the Colonel said that was too slow and
insisted on using the ethero-plane itself
because in that we could make any speed
short of a meteorite's velocity. Then he
said all the Martians wanted to see the
machine and it was part of his policy to
educate the people everywhere along all
progressive lines. Accordingly we rushed
over Mars in our own private touring car,
and T. R. called the attention of the people
at every stop to the machine itself as a
concrete example of the wonderful prog-
ress made on Earth in the last few years.
He poured an astonishing amount of
history into his audiences in a few ad-
dresses, compressing most of the telling
events in his presidential term and his
Africa-Europe tour into scintillating
points for Martian admiration and as-
similation. He loaded up with all the
chief points concerning Martian govern-
ment and politics and turned them to
account in his platform talks.
When he understood that there are no
trusts in Mars, and the reason for that
blissful state of things, he grasped at it
eagerly.
"I have always told my earthly friends,"
he cried, "that publicity would cure the
trust evil. Now you people have proved
my words true. I congratulate you with
all my heart upon your distinguished
achievement." (Immense applause).
Again when informed that every Martian
who originated, or invented anything
did so purely for the public good he was
all enthusiasm and said to his audience:
"There it is once more. It has always
been my policy to urge the public good
as the one supreme aim and object. I
told my earth friends and countrymen a
thousand times that the individual's
rights must be modified and influenced by
the public good, while of course the public
good must fully embrace and consider
the individual's rights. I understand you
concede that this balanced scheme can
never be absolutely perfect; we must ap-
proximate toward'it as rapidly as possible.
It affords me eminent satisfaction to find
so intelligent a people thus confirming and
endorsing my oft-repeated declarations."
One thing stumped T. R. He could
not get over it. That was the utter ab-
sence of publishers, editors and the like.
But when he understood the reason he
was somewhat relieved. My obliging
military friend gave the explanation. He
said:
"You must understand, honored sir,
that Mars has a history. In former ages
things were very much as you have
sketched as now existing on the Earth.
But after centuries of evolvement, and
after great and wonderful changes in our
atmospheric and electric environment the
whole temper of the people altered. To
a great extent the principle of fermenta-
tion was taken from the atmosphere, and
the chemical rays of the sun greatly
modified. This produced, by strict
scientific law, a corresponding absence
of what I may call the fermenting principle
in the Martian race. Our blood cooled;
our brains were unhindered; we learned
and retained what we learned; old things
that had resulted in trouble were laid
aside instinctively; we became a quiet,
peaceful people; old issues and disputes
died out; there was nothing left but
interest in general and particular advance-
ment; in short, what you call the public
good. Under this regime knowledge soon
became general; everybody acquired some-
thing of the powers of mental psych ometry ;
there was nothing to fight about and there-
fore no special room for a turbulent press.
Your 'yellow journals' became impossible.
452
TEDDY'S TRIP TO MARg
"Keeley, I am determined not to make this trip unless one man, just one man, goes with me"
Physical life was lengthened greatly,
and men preferred personal contact and
conversation to correspondence, and were
able to fall back upon telepathy instead
of a newspaper extra."
The Colonel was aghast for a moment;
then he rallied and admitted:
"Well, that is going some. You have
cause for rejoicing. But I wish you could
visit me in America and glance over the
details of our present fight with the cor-
porations, the railroad Titan, the labor
unions, the wealthy malefactors, the
political corruptionists, the mendacious
journalists, the simon-pure liars of every
stripe. My policy is bearing fruit every-
where and we are confidently expecting
a better state of things when all that
following whose spirit is practically criminal
will have been weeded out and consigned
to an eternal limbo. I make it a special
point to unearth the criminal whether he
TEDDY'S TRIP TO MARS
453
belong to the poor or the predatory rich.
I am delighted to find that your history
proves the correctness of my policy once
more."
Speaking to an immense audience at a
beautiful city that stood at the beginning
of the Great Northern Canal, the Colonel
said in part:
"I am struck with the central idea in
your government. It has long been a
hobby with me to enlarge the mental
scope of my countrymen and persuade
them to look at things in a large way.
Local issues are not many; that is, those
that really are local. Most real issues are
national in their character and should
be treated nationally. I am always after
big things. Life is too short to waste on
infinitesimals. Give me a telescope every
time rather than a microscope. Fill up
the measure of your politics with great,
big, live matters that concern the whole
nation. The longer you look at big things,
the sooner will your minds become en-
larged and take in the great rather than
the small. Of course the central govern-
ment must regard the local to a degree,
but it stands to reason that the local must
always give way to the general when it
comes to a positive choice." (Great ap-
plause) .
IV
And then we went fishing!
There are no animals on Mars except
a few of the domestic varieties. Hunting
is out of the question. But the immense
canals that stretch from the polar to the
equatorial regions of the planet are alive
with fish, many of which furnish the most
exciting sport. We ran up the Great
Northern Canal to a point corresponding
with our arctic circle. Here the canal
meets the northern sea that is supplied
from the melting ice caps, and the greatest
variety of fish are found, some of them of
enormous size. After two days of 'amazing
sport we returned in the ethero-plane
to the Martian Capital in the temper-
ate zone, our "hold" literally laden with
spoils.
"Truly I never saw such fish," exclaimed
T. R. as he tried to classify his catch for
the Smithsonian or National Institutes.
"When I tell my friends on Earth that
I caught five hundred dozen ten pounders,
superior to any trout they ever hauled
in, won't there be some lifting of the eye-
brows?
"But there's no use bothering with
small fry," he continued. "When I go
hunting I want the biggest game there is.
Fishing wasn't in it in Africa; we couldn't
waste time on that when lions and ele-
phants and rhinoceri were abundant as
rabbits at home. So what's the use of all
these ten pounders? Now here's a fish
worth catching. Look at him."
The Colonel laid his hand on one of the
Martian monsters, weighing a thousand
pounds, which we had caught with an
electric harpoon and hauled in with the
engine of the ethero-plane.
"We'll stuff that and give him the chief
place in the museum at Washington. That
will take the record."
This pleasing occupation was rather
suddenly interrupted by my catching
sight of a shadowy something in the
corner that presently suggested my "guide"
— Keeley. It dawned upon me that he
wanted to communicate with me, but
I saw at once he could not do so when T. R.
was present. Psychics can't live with
P. P.s, so Keeley explained to me when I
made an excuse to leave my distinguished
passenger for a moment. "I thought I
would just drop in and give you the latest
mail from Earth."
"What is it, Keeley?" I anxiously in-
quired. "Anything important happened?"
"Oh, nothing very special," drawled
Keeley. "You see Professor James, the
distinguished psychical research man, has
lately come over to our side, and he has
been trying to communicate with Hyslop
and Mr. Stead and the rest. Somehow
the news has arrived that —
"That what? Hurry up, Keeley. Don't
aggravate one's curiosity."
"Nothing particular; only Maine has
gone Democratic."
"You don't expect me to believe such
a fish story as that, do you?" I scornfully
inquired.
"Might as well," replied my "guide."
"They've got the governor and a lot more;
and when you recall the fact that there
never was a Democratic congressmanjfrom
Maine, it looks queer to see three out of
454
TEDDY'S TRIP TO MARS
four tumble into the. lap of the old De-
mocracy."
When I imparted this startling news to
T. R. he exploded.
"Why, that means that Hale of Maine
will have to retire whether he wants to
or not. Something is going wrong. I
must get back p. d. q. This insurgency
means something. I see, I see. My
policy is working out. The people are
getting their optics open and are learning
a thing or two. My dear Kenyon, let's
say good-bye and crowd on all steam for
home. Make it two million miles an hour
if you can. I must get back to the office
and take a peep through the World's-
Lookout at once."
In two hours we were back at the
Martian Capital, the ethero-plane ready
for the return, and an enormous crowd
gathered for the send-off. I seized the
repulsion transmitter and stood ready
to press the spring while the Colonel
clambered out upon the small deck and
shouted in stentorian tones his farewell.
"I will never forget you and your kind-
ness," he cried, his hand on his heart.
"This has been a unique experience" and
I will turn it to good account on Earth
at the first opportunity. The forcible
endorsement you and your history have
given me and my policy is worth much
more than the paltry pounds of radium
bestowed upon us in compensation for
our all too feeble efforts to instruct and
entertain you while in your midst.
"Let the average man among you seek
to improve his standards and estate. You
who are above the average must bend to
help others, and you who are below must
reach out a hand to be grasped. The
health of the whole body politic is vastly
more important than the health of the
individual, but it is plain that only as
you improve the individual can the whole
be elevated.
"Never forget to weed out and weed
out and weed out till you have a clean
garden, or one as nearly clean as your
limitations make possible. Hammer away
at abuses and never let up" —
A voice. "There are no abuses here.
We've got past that."
"No, you haven't. Don't fool your-
selves like that. Hammer away at abuses
whether you see them or not. If you
don't the weeds will surely grow again
when you are most secure. Merely legal
issues will become moral issues over night
if your vigilance is relaxed. Corruption
is a great law of this material universe.
Our only hope is in clinging to the greater
law of progress. Keep on! Move! Don't
stand still. Stir the great pot of public
opinion till you see the bubbles on top.
Keep things effervescing. Idleness is
death. The very first thing said of this
present universe is that someone moved!
"We will soon have a regular passenger
service between the spheres. Why not?
If so much has been done in a hundred
years, who can limit our progress in the
future? Progress! that is the word. Sub-
stantive and verb; we want them both.
Good-bye. Come over and see me after
my policy has worked a little longer.
Good-bye! Good luck to you all!
"Touch her off, Mr. Kenyon!"
As I pressed the spring on the trans-
mitter the great craft trembled slightly
and then rose majestically above the
throng gathered outside the Capital. Sud-
denly the musical director stood up and
waved a handsome baton. Ten thousand
trained singers sprang to their feet, the
baton waved again, five hundred instru-
ments swelled out in a great chord, and
then from ten thousand throats burst
forth a chorus that made the atmosphere
vibrate to its limits:
"Has everybody here seen Teddy?"
It was the most awe-inspiring thing I
ever saw in all my life. T. R. was positively
overcome, and leaned limply against the
window frame, mopping his crimson
countenance with his handkerchief. In
a moment, as the chorus came to a
pause, he sprang inside, leaned out and
shouted :
"Forget me; that is all right; but don't
forget my policy. Pro-gress! Pro-gress!
Be a progressive!
"Now, Mr. Kenyon," he exclaimed,
turning to me, "get out of this atmosphere
as quickly as you can, and see if we can't
run up the miles a million or so an hour.
Really, that last experience was almost
too much for yours truly."
WHEN. THE OCEAN BILLOWS ROLL
455
I bent all my energies to comply with
his request. We were soon above the
Martian atmosphere, but not before my
distinguished passenger, gazing through
a telescope of remarkable power, suddenly
cried out:
"Great United States! What do you
suppose I see?"
I eagerly protested my ignorance and
my desire to learn. T. R. laughed heartily
and then after another peep, cried:
"There's a regular Teddy-bear climbing
up the Capitol flag-pole with the Stars
and Stripes in his mouth. I wonder if
they mean anything by that?"
On this point I was unable to offer any
suggestions, and all my attention was called
for to keep the ethero-plane on the shortest
course, the great vibrodyne humming,
and the indicators showing a marvellous
velocity. Without a break I stood on
the bridge, so to speak, and directed our
course, and in less than fifty hours saw
we were approaching the Earth. Shortly
after nightfall we entered the atmosphere,
and before we had descended nearer the
surface than ten miles my wireless ap-
paratus began to work vigorously. In
two minutes the Colonel was in communi-
cation with the office of the World's Look-
out and the staff notified of his coming.
In the midst of clouds and gloom we
reached the anchorage in the Blue Ridge
without being noticed by anyone. The
touring car was ready, and the Colonel,
after squeezing my hand into a jelly, and
urging me to visit him soon and often,
was whisked away to the nearest station
and rushed to New York.
Now comes the very strangest thing
in all this strange narrative. I am sure
I will not be believed. The public generally
will consign me to perpetual membership
in the Ananias club. But I can only die
once. I must stick to the truth no matter
what happens. Here it is. T. R. had
been away for eight days; his staff had
kept their counsel, and nobody knew it.
Not one living soul even suspected that
Teddy had been to Mars. Now, it is out,
I feel relieved. Faithfully,
ORR KENYON.
WHEN THE OCEAN BILLOWS ROLL
F WAS coming from Liverpool upon one of the famous liners," says Bishop Potter,
* "and although the sky was clear and the weather warm a somewhat tempestuous
sea had occasioned more than the usual amount of seasickness among the passengers.
As I paced the deck one afternoon, I noticed a lady reclining upon one of the benches,
and the unearthly pallor of her face and the hopeless languidity of her manner indicated
that she had reached that state of collapse which marks the limit of seasickness.
"Touched by this piteous spectacle, and approaching the poor creature, in my most
compassionate tone, I asked: 'Madam, can I be of any service to you?'
"She did not open her eyes, but I heard her murmur faintly: "Thank you, sir, but
there is nothing you can do — nothing at all.'
:' 'At least, madam,' said I tenderly, 'permit me to bring you a glass of water.'
"She moved her head feebly and answered: 'No, I thank you — nothing at all.'
" 'But your husband, madam,' said I, 'the gentleman lying there with his head in
your lap — shall I not bring something to revive him?'
"The lady again moved her head feebly, and again she murmured faintly and be-
tween gasps: 'Thank you, sir, but — he — is — not — my — husband. I — don't — know —
who he is!' "
—From the book "Heart Throbs."
A GUESS FOR LIFE
THE DOCTOR'S STORY
By FANNIE C. GRIPPING
P\OCTOR REYNOLDS was a successful
*^ and popular physician, a man of wide
experience, and much literary culture. He
had given up an extensive city practice to
locate in our little coast town, on account
of his failing health, evidently heeding the
injunction: "Physician, heal thyself."
He soon became extremely popular with
all classes of our citizens, and much be-
loved among the poorer element, to whom
he gave his services free. Of middle age,
with reserved manner, and dignified
bearing, he was a man to command both
respect and confidence.
I was strongly attracted toward him
from the first, and to my shy overtures
of friendship he responded cordially and
we soon became quite intimate. And to
my surprise, when he unbent, he was de-
lightfully human, and vastly entertaining,
to one of my youth and inexperience.
It was at the close of an unusually busy
day for the doctor that we sat together
on the piazza of his pleasant home, puffing
at our after dinner cigars, and watching
the golden disk of the full moon, as it
slowly rose above the tree tops.
In addition to his usual round of patients,
there had, that day, been one of those
tragedies which are becoming so terribly
frequent, in which life is so needlessly
taken during the heat of anger.
The survivor in this case had been
dangerously wounded, and Dr. Reynolds,
true to the ethics of his profession, had
used all his skill to save a life, perhaps
for the hangman. We had discussed the
case at length and, leaning back in his
comfortable chair, the doctor was watch-
ing the blue rings of smoke that circled
upward from his Havana.
"I had a pretty close call, myself,
once!" he remarked suddenly, as the
recollection struck him.
"A narrow escape from death it was,
and under such unusually strange circum-
stances that I have always wondered,
and been thankful that it didn't turn my
hair white!" and with an amused laugh,
he leaned forward to knock the ash from
his cigar end.
"Why do you laugh?" I asked, in sur-
prise. "It couldn't have been funny!"
"It was both tragic and amusing,
although anything but a laughing matter
at the time!" was his reply. "It was a
strange experience, and I had a narrow
escape from death!" His tone had become
grave, and much interested, I begged him
to relate his experience.
"Like most young medicos," he began,
"I thought, on receiving my diploma,
that all that was necessary to achieve
fame and fortune, was to open an office,
put up a sign, and a multitude of grateful
and admiring patients would advertise
my skill. So I opened an office (a small
one, to be sure) and a gilded sign informed
the public of the fact. But, to my sur-
prise and disappointment, the expected
patients failed to materialize. Day after
day I sat in my office, waiting and wish-
ing for the expected patients who failed
to come. But I would not let myself
be discouraged or lose faith in myself.
I recalled all the stories I had read or
heard of the early struggles of many great
men, and how they had at last won, by
patience and perseverance, and took a
fresh hold upon my courage, resolving
to emulate them. So, refusing to despond,
I arose hopefully each day, and hurried
to and from my little office as if each
moment was precious. While there I
spent the patientless hours in studying
my medical books, and in reading many
of the works of the best poets and authors
from the public library. In this manner,
I gained a fair knowledge of literature,
and the hours I thought so irksome were
well spent, after all.
"On a bright June morning, I remem-
(456)
A GUESS FOR LIFE
457
her, I was hastening, as usual to my little
office, feeling unusually hopeful and con-
fident. I had reached the steps of the
building, where it was located, and as
I paused a moment, a tall, dark and
heavily bearded man came to a halt
beside me. Glancing behind, and about
him, he asked: 'Where can I find a phy-
sician?' 'I am one myself, and at your
service, sir!' I answered quickly, while
my heart leaped. Here was a patient at
last, perhaps! 'I am in search of one with
brains, and, although young, you seem
intelligent,' he replied, his eyes scanning
my face. 'There's no hope for me, I
know, but you may give me some relief!'
and he sighed.
" 'Come into my office, sir!' I hastened
to say, 'I'll examine and do all I can for
you! This way, sir!'
"I ascended the steps and the big man
followed, his hand on my arm. Through
the outer and into the inner and private
office, I piloted him, and drawing forward
a couple of armchairs, I invited him to
be seated. His large, deep-set, and in-
tensely black eyes burned with a strange
lustre, and their expression seemed to
indicate that his thoughts were elsewhere.
He was silent for some moments, and
then burst out suddenly: 'My sufferings
are intense! None can dream of what I
endure!' laying a hand upon his side.
'It is killing me by inches, and yet —
his eyes flashed, 'My private physicain,
brainless idiot! insists that I am mistaken
in regard to my malady! As if I did not
know! My father had the same disease,
and it killed him!' I gazed at my patient
wonderingly. To what did he allude?
He seemed the picture of health. Perhaps
it was appendicitis! I opened my lips to
question him, but he began again: 'I've
known and dreaded it for years! I know
that I am doomed!'
" 'What is it, sir?' I gasped, startled
by his strange manner. 'What do you
think ails you?'
" 'Think!' he repeated. 'I don't think,
sir! I am perfectly certain that I have
internal cancer!'
" 'Cancer!' I exclaimed much surprised.
'Oh, I guess you are mistaken!' I answered
with youthful confidence. 'At least I hope
so/ I added hastily, as he frowned heavily.
" 'Like all the others, you think I'm
mistaken,' he muttered, and rose from his
seat. 'You recognize me, of course,
and should know that it is true!'
" 'No, sir, you have the advantage of
me,' I replied wonderingly. 'I do not re-
member ever seeing you before!' 'What!'
and he glared at me. 'Surely you knew
me at once! Not know me!' Thrusting
one hand into his breast, and the other
behind him, he towered over me, and I
gazed intently at him. He was well
dressed and certainly distinguished look-
ing, and was perhaps some celebrity then
in the limelight. I strove to recall the
faces of all men of note that I remem-
bered. In vain I strove to place him
in my mental gallery of great men, which,
to tell the truth, was small.
" 'Every schoolboy is familiar with
my form and features,' the deep voice
rumbled on. 'My name and fame are
world wide! No one could fail to recog-
nize me!' I shook my head, and repeated,
'No, sir, you are a stranger to me!'
" 'Is it possible?' and turning abruptly
away, my strange patient walked to the
window and gazed out. Slowly approach-
ing, he passed behind my chair to reach
his own. The next moment, a pair of
long and powerful arms reached over my
shoulders, a stout cord was passed over
my chest and arms, while a terrible voice
hissed in my ear: 'Silence! Make a
movement or a sound and it will be your
last!'
"I had neither time nor inclination for
either, for I was so taken aback and dazed
by the sudden and violent attack that
I was as helpless as an infant in the grasp
of a giant.
"With lightning-like rapidity, the cord
was passed about me, again and again,
over my body, even my legs, binding me
fast to the chair, unable to move a limb.
"Then my captor again stood before
me, holding in one hand a keen-bladed,
murderous-looking knife. It needed but
one glance at his face, at his glaring eyes,
to tell me that I was in the power and at
the merey of a madman! For a few
moments, overcome with horror and be-
wilderment, I felt as if paralyzed in brain
and body. But I quickly regained con-
trol of my faculties and began to think.
458
A GUESS FOR LIFE
"My first patient was undoubtedly
mad, a dangerous lunatic, either some
noted personage, suddenly gone mad, or
an escaped madman, with the common
hallucination that he was some great man,
either dead or alive. I dared not make
a sound to summon help, and there was
not a chance in a thousand that anyone
would enter the outer office, and, even
if they did, they would never think of
opening the door marked 'Private.'
"What a situation! My only chance
for life was to remain as calm as possible
and not excite my captor. If he intended
to kill me I might divert him from his
purpose, for the insane are easily deceived
and their moods cltange quickly.
"With one hand thrust into his breast,
and the other behind him, he stood gazing
at me frowningly.
" 'So you dare to say that you don't
know me!' he burst out angrily. 'I, who
am known to all, and whose fame is world-
wide! There is not a corner of the earth
that my name has not penetrated, as the
greatest man of modern times, and for
ages to come! Yet you, an educated
physician, fail to recognize me!'
"'I am very sorry, sir!' 'I stammered.
" 'What everlasting glory is mine!' he
almost shouted, growing more and more
more excited. 'I, the greatest military
genius the world has ever known! The
very earth has trembled under the tread
of my marching legions as again and again
I have led them to battle, and always to
victory! My name is forever engraved
in the temple of fame, and my power is
boundless! You shall guess who I am!
I'll give you one chance for your miserable
life! If within ten minutes, you do not
recall and tell me my name, I shall silence
you forever!'
"I gazed at my terrible patient, with
fascinated eyes, wondering if I were
really awake or the victim of some hideous
nightmare.
"Opening a handsome gold watch, he
noted the time, and replaced it, saying,
'Ten minutes, remember!'
" 'I am very young and ignorant, sir!'
I gasped humbly. 'I can hardly be ex-
pected to know much ! Such a great man
as you — '
" 'Greater than Caesar!' he burst out
again. 'Greatest of all heroes! There
in none like me!'
"His eyes glowed, and with a smile he
turned from me, and I could see that his
mood was changing. It was plain now
that he imagined himself to be someone
he admired, some great soldier, either of
the past or present. And I must guess
what fancy possessed his crazed brain,
or lose my life! And only ten minutes
in which to think.
"Quickly I recalled the names of all
the great warriors of history, from Hanni-
bal and Alexander, down to our own
Washington, Lee and Grant, although I
felt it to be a hopeless task. How could
I guess among so many? If he would
only inadvertently give me some clue
to the hero of his fancy ! Did he personally
resemble the personage he imagined him-
self to be — and was he now living or long
since dead?
" 'Five minutes more!' and passing be-
fore me, the madman flashed the glitter-
ing blade before my shrinking eyes. 'Tell
me, who and what I am, in the next few
minutes, if you wish to live!' and with
bent head, he began slowly pacing the
floor, muttering to himself.
"I felt myself breaking into a cold
perspiration, and fervently prayed that
some heaven-sent friend would enter the
office in time to save me in case I guessed
wrongly. Desperately I strove to think
while the precious moments were slipping
by. With my heart fairly pounding, and
every sense on the alert, I listened to the
muttered words that fell from the mad-
man's lips, as he paced to and fro: 'Ah,
my noble veterans, my gallant braves!
How they adored me! Happy to shed
their blood and die for me! And what
glory and everlasting fame we gained by
our many victories! How truly was it
said of me, that 'At my name the world
grew pale!'
"In vain I strove to concentrate my
thoughts on his muttered words — my
brain was reeling, and I was only conscious
that time was flying. A few more minutes
and I would be a bloody corpse, the
mystery thereof never solved, or the
murderer discovered. Again, my captor-
glanced at his watch, and just then there:
flashed thrown my mind the recjpllectina
A GUESS FOR LIFE
459
of his last words: 'At my name the world
grew pale.'
"Like a flash there came to me the
memory of an old and battered volume
which my mother had insisted on my
reading, when a child. Heaven bless her
for it! The first chapter began, I remem-
bered: 'Napoleon Bonaparte, "at whose
name the world grew pale!" was born at
Ajjaico, in the island of Corsica.' Eureka!
I was saved! I could have shouted for
joy, for undoubtedly my crazed patient
imagined that he was himself the great
Corsican! How stupid I had been not to
guess. And, as I now recalled his words,
I felt sure that I was right; and why
he had declared that he was suffering
from cancer, and that had caused Na-
poleon's death!
"Time's up!' and snapping shut his
watch, the madman came swiftly toward
me, knife in hand. 'The ten minutes in
which I allowed you to think have passed !
Do you still fail to recognize me, whose
face and figure are familiar to all? Now,'
folding his arms, 'Who am I? Speak,
before I silence you forever!' His eyes
blazed with the light of murderous in-
sanity, and heaven help me if I failed in
my guess! Trembling in every limb and
with a prayer for guidance, I gasped:
'Napoleon Bonaparte!'
" 'Right, doctor, you are right! I am
the great Emperor!' and - the lunatic
beamed upon me with a smile that trans-
formed him. 'It angered me that you
did not instantly recognize me, doctor! I
am jealous of my fame, you see!' and, still
smiling winningly, he began to release me.
;' 'Pardon me for confining you thus!'
he continued, as with quick strokes of that
terrible knife, he severed my bonds, and
they fell from me. But the awful strain
had been too much for me, and, weak as
an infant, I lay back in my chair, white
and trembling, unable to lift a finger.
"Then, thank heaven! there was a quick
rush of feet across the outer office; the
door was flung open, and two strong men
rushed in and siezed the maniac. 'Here
he is!' one shouted while the other ex-
claimed:
" 'My God, what has he been doing?
I hope he hasn't hurt you, doctor?'
"But I didn't answer, and am ashamed
to say that I disgraced myself by fainting
dead away for the first time in my life!
"When I regained my senses my strange
and terrible patient and one of the men
were gone, and the other was bending
anxiously over me. 'Thank goodness you
are all right! The professor did give us a
scare!' he exclaimed as I opened my eyes.
From him I learned the truth regarding
my strange patient.
"He was, it seemed, a man of some
literary note, and while engaged on a
work in which Napoleon was the central
figure, he had been the victim of a severe
attack of lagrippe. When he recovered,
it was found that his mind was unbalanced,
and he was placed in an asylum for treat-
ment. The hallucination that he, himself,
was the great Napoleon possessed his
mind, and he became violent, even dan-
gerous, unless humored.
"He had managed to escape from the
asylum that day, and although the atten-
dants had quickly traced him to my office,
but for that fortunate flash of memory
on my part, they would have arrived too
late to save me from a terrible death at
his hands.
"Pretty close shave, wasn't it?" and,
striking a match, the doctor leaned back,
and lit a fresh cigar.
THAT Other Land, that Other Land
*• Whose seas roll softly by our strand !
What suns will shine, what winds will blow
Beyond its border, who may know?
Yet naught is alien, sea nor sun,
Since God in all his worlds is one.
Copyright, 1905, by Edna Dean Proctor,
Htfelong Bftribente on Jf itttm Cents
A TRUE LOVE STORY
EDITOR'S NOTE— The National is pledged to hold as a secret the name of the writer
of this true narrative. We have always maintained that the National is a great family
magazine, and we modestly give this true romance to our readers for the double purpose of
interesting our readers and maintaining this distinction. Perhaps many another true love
romance has been inspired by the pages of the National, the facts of which are still locked
up in the hearts of the readers. But be that as it may, the Congressman for whom the
National was instrumental in finding his happy, lovable wife has been heard many times
in the halls of Congress, where he has served his constituents with great ability. The writer,
his wife, is — but we will let her tell her own story.
TT is only fair to admit that I started
* off with some misgivings on that long
and lonely journey in the dead of winter
to assume new duties, in a remote country
high school. I say it was winter — winter
in California conjures up the most alluring
pictures, but even California affords many
varieties of the season; and to leave the
beautiful green fields and well-cared-for
cities of the Bay region and go off to an
altitude of over six thousand feet on
the last day of January, cast a bit of a
gloom over me, and yet, where would the
born teacher not go if she saw a good field
ahead of her? For when nature denied
me the gifts and graces of my more for-
tunate friends she graciously bestowed
upon me one ruling passion — the teaching
of children.
Leaving Oakland in a gentle rain, which
braced one and made one glad to be alive,
I awoke the next morning in Reno to
find a foot and a half of snow, with the
wind blowing a cold, swift blast, and to
make things all the more dispiriting we
had failed, by fifteen minutes, to make
connections with the northern bound
train. I was anxious to reach my desti-
nation and find out what manner of place
I had contracted to live in for the next
four or five months, but this delay afforded
me an opportunity that I am never loathe
to embrace, namely, that of exploring a
new location. Therefore, being certain
that no other train left for the north until
twenty-four hours later, I betook me to
the hotel, and, after breakfast, put in a
pleasant day walking over the city of
Reno trying to bring my mind to accept
the fact that it is a well-built and pretty
place and not the cut-throat, wild and
woolly place that I had heard it repre-
sented to be. Before leaving the hotel
I had sent the darkey porter into a fit
of mirth by asking him to direct me to
the street cars that would take me over
the parts of the city most desirable to
see. Only the whites of his eyes and his
large teeth were visible in an ebony setting,
as he grinned his reply:
"Good Lawd, dis place ain't got no
kyars, 'cept dem as takes yo' where yo'
doan want to go, ef yo' wants to see dis
place yo' has to walk — an' yo' can see it
all in half an hour."
However, the trip one hundred miles
northward is the real beginning of the
tale I have to tell, so passing over this
time you find me on the morrow accepting
the seat obtained for me by the hotel
porter, who carried my luggage, and
sought out the least dirty seat the car
afforded, as being desirable for the only
lady passenger.
All of the comforts possessed by Pull-
man coaches had been either negligently
or designedly left out of this train, not
excepting speed, for when we started out
of the little station a yellow dog ran along-
side of the train for fully a half mile, nor
did the canine find any difficulty in keep-
ing up with us though he limited himself
to a gentle jog-trot.
Up, up through the mountains over a
track as narrow as it dared be constructed
without positive danger of upsetting the
little train, and clinging to seats fashioned
without springs one felt the ache in his
(460)
LIFELONG DIVIDENDS ON FIFTEEN CENTS
461
bones, but gloried in the novelty of the
experience, and enjoyed everything con-
nected therewith, even to the round,
jolly face of the lazy-looking conductor,
presenting a curious contrast to our pre-
conceived notions of the spick and span
blue-uniformed personification of dignity
that a conductor ought to be, in his dust-
covered over-alls and semi-clean neglige
shirt covered by a baggy sack coat.
Ever higher we climbed through those
sage-covered mountains that some say
are monotonous and without beauty,
but which have, as all nature has, a beauty
of their own for him who in the love of
nature has eyes to see. There they
stretch for hundreds of miles in their
rugged majesty, hiding their bare backs
under the dense cover of sage, teaching
in their impressive silence of the sub-
limity of patience and repose. Who will
say that along those same trails men shall
not one day dig their way to untold wealth?
One hundred miles northward, a dis-
tance we covered in nine hours, and then
a short stop at the mountain hotel where
we ate a hasty supper, and then — the
more daring, and let me acknowledge,
the more ignorant of us, started in a blind-
ing snowstorm for a thirty-six mile stage
ride, over those mountains, in the dead
of night with a nether-world darkness
clinging to us, and with such roads as
would put to shame a less civilized section
of the world.
I had been urged to remain over night
and travel by daylight in a better con-
veyance. But had I not been waiting all
my life for a stage-ride, and now was it
for me to allow this opportunity to slip
from me so lightly? Not I. But as the
landlady noticed my cloak of light ma-
terial and my pretty little city-fashioned
hat, she insisted upon my being wrapped
up more properly if I would persist in
starting out that night. I was swathed
in a great lap-robe, and a_thick hood
was securely tied around fmy^ head, quite
to my amusement.
As I took my seat in the stage I realized
that after all I was -doomed to some dis-
appointment, for the style of this stage
and its accoutrements were not what I
always supposed to be, and I made bold
to say to the driver that I liked a long
coach, with top seats, and a driver nourish-
ing a long whip over the backs of six or
eight spirited horses that just bounced
along over the road.
"Ever on a stage before, what do you
know about 'em?" he asked, evidently
scenting a city tenderfoot.
"No, I've never been on one," I acknowl-
edged, "but I've always longed for just
this chance, and I know about stage
coaches from stories and pictures in the
books."
"Well," he replied, "I ain't got no fine
stage, nor six hosses, nor yit no long
whip, but when it comes to bouncinj over
the road — why, young woman, I'll show
you more bounce in the next six hours
than you ever dreamed of before!"
And he was true to his word! A careful
driver and a kind-hearted man was he.
There was one other passenger, a sturdy
young, mountain-born man, more fitted
than a tenderly raised city girl for such a
night's ride. We three sat on the front
seat, I being between the driver and the
passenger who put me back of their arms
that I might not be thrown out of the
seat entirely. Gigantic boulders, deep
holes, packed snow that almost stalled
our horses, strong though they were and
accustomed to such hardships, a wagon
innocent of springs and not well ballasted,
and above and below and around us
that clinging, impenetrable blackness.
Hitting a great rock we would bounce
high into the air and come down with a
loud "chug" on the uneven earth below us,
and often our wagon would twist and
would stand at right angles with our
horses. The cold was penetrating and the
robe and coat seemed thin protection
against it.
"Are you glad you came?" asked the
affable driver, after we had been out some
two hours. "Do you think you would have
missed much if you had not come?"
"To be sure I'm glad I came," I replied,
"and if I had not come I would have missed
the greatest adventure of my life — if a
man were to be hanged on a certain day
and he failed by some means to get there
don't you think he'd miss something?
He would surely miss something, whether
pleasant or otherwise I am not saying."
And the shouts of laughter that broke
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LIFELONG DIVIDENDS ON FIFTEEN CENTS
out amongst those silent giant mountains
in the dead of the night was in itself a
novelty not often paralleled.
Eight hours and we had laboriously
made fourteen miles, and when the dozen
houses comprising the town of Goodluck —
which from its appearance had seen more
bad luck than the other kind — were
reached I breathed a sigh of relief, for here
we were to change horses and I hoped to
get my tortured muscles straightened out.
The jolting had made me sick and I was
turning a plan over in my mind, and was
only prevented in speaking of it by the
fear I had of being laughed at by my com-
panions. But when nature signified that
she had endured all that she could I asked
the driver if he would consider it a "cow-
ardly act" for me to stay at the hotel
for the rest of the night and go on the
next day in the next stage.
Far from laughing he said it was a wise
thing for me to do, and called up the hotel
keeper and gave me and Uncle Sam's
mail into his keeping. The innkeeper
called his wife and I was assigned to a
clean, little blue room, and after taking
a glass of milk I put my weary body to
rest. But before the stage pulled out the
passenger and the driver had called out
"good-night" to me, and the driver said,
"I like you for a passenger, for you kept
us laughing and in good spirits; the men
that come up with me, and especially the
drummers, swear at me all the way."
"I can imagine it affords them much
relief," I said, "and if I had known how
to do it I might have tried it for the sooth-
ing effect it would undoubtedly have had!"
The next morning I was a pretty sick
guest of a very kind landlady. The
hardships are worth while that we may
come to know the sterling worth of the
people that live in these out-of-the-way
places, for nowhere in the world do we
find such native goodness of heart and
tenderness as we find among those that
the cultivated taboo as illiterate and
uncouth.
After three days this good woman sent
me on my destination with her hired man,
who was going to the same village for
supplies, and we went in a good, springy
farm wagon, driving four horses.
As we went forward the roads were
better, save in certain stretches, but
water became deeper and deeper until
we found that our destination lay through
flood waters and that the town to which
we were going had been, and still was,
under several feet of water.
We swam into the town — down the
main street and up to the one little hotel.
One of our leaders became afraid and tried
to run away, or more properly "swim
away," and this was quite exciting for the
loungers, congregated in the doors along
the way. Business of all forms had been
for the most part suspended during the
deluge.
I remained but a short time in this hotel,
for one of my soon-to-be-associate teachers
had secured for me the only available
room in the town, and thither she escorted
me, while the loungers' faces took on a
more animated expression as they watched
the "new school marm" walk the narrow
planks stretched down the streets on the
tops of barrels and boxes. Since the "new
school marm" found this a new experience
and since her weight caused the boards
to grcan and sag beneath her, and since
balancing on a tight-rope had always
seemed to her like the most difficult feat
in the universe, the loungers had every
right to believe that they would see a
"ducked" teacher before the end of the
little street was reached, but though that
walk would not be noted for grace of
movement her good angel must have
guided her steps for she came to the door
of her new abiding place undrenched.
My good principal and other teacher
associates stayed near me most of the
day, to keep the "little blue devils" away,
most likely. I found out what my duties,
as a substitute filling a permanent vacancy,
were to be, and was impatient for the
flood to recede that the interrupted school
session might be resumed.
That night when alone I found time
to observe my surroundings more minutely.
I found the house to be an old frame shell,
built up on stilts and that the flood had
invaded it for the floor was still wet to my
touch, and the water was still deep under
the house. The floor was covered by a
checker-board pattern in burlap, the
squares being of red, black, white and
yellow. This was an insult to my finer
LIFELONG DIVIDENDS ON FIFTEEN CENTS
463
feelings, but I considered that it wasn't
necessary for me to see the floor, and de-
termined to look at higher things; but on
a level with my eyes I encountered a
small, cracked mirror of that wavy quality
of glass that makes you look like a mon-
strosity that would draw a fine salary in
a side-show; and a rusty stovepipe
emanating from a small and entirely in-
adequate air-tight stove. A couple of
gaudy prints of ladies with wonderful
coiffures, much smile and little dress,
adorned the walls along with a calendar
two years old. Thinking that it might
be best to close my eyes entirely upon
such scenes I determined to call for
hot water and after a restful bath to seek
repose.
Now I was to discover that to call
for hot water meant more in this place
than to push an electric bell — it meant
to go outdoors in the water and dirt, and
inquire of various shadowy inmates of
the house, and to stumble through dark
and devious hallways calling lustily for
Mrs. Hall. No Mrs. Hall responding, you
would naturally grow rather weary of
your search, if the novelty of the thing
did not carry you along until you came
into forcible contact with a young Hall
walking forward and looking behind him;
after being stared at stupidly by him in
the light of the odorous little oil lamp
that intensifies the gloom of this dark
passage, you make him understand that
you want his mother and you repair to
your quarters to await her coming. You
present your wants in this manner:
"Mrs. Hall, I have been traveling and
should like a hot bath, if you will direct
me to the bathroom."
"My Lord," exclaims that astonished
lady, "there ain't but two bath tubs in
the town, and one's at Myers' and one's
at Morris', and they don't rent 'em."
The fact that this speech is delivered
with a grin as though your desire of a
bath is a good joke only intensifies your
dignity, and you inquire:
"Well, Mrs. Hall, what provision have
you for baths? Can you bring me hot
water to my room?"
"Here you have a good big pitcher,"
says the landlady, laying her hand on the
well-cracked and browned water pitcher,
"and that'll hold enough for a bath, and
if you go right down to the corner and
turn to the right and go to the middle of
the next block you'll find the Chinese
restaurant and you can go in there — they
don't min' it at all — and get all the water
you want for bathing and drinking and
everything."
'• Smothering your amazement you reg-
ister a mental vow that if you don't have
ft* bath until you reach civilization next
rummer you will not carry water for the
purpose from the Chinese restaurant or
ffom any other place. But in your most
persuasive tones you inquire if you could
hire one of her little boys to do the errand
forjyou. The idea of money given in
exchange for so simple an errand may
impress her as being extravagant on your
part, but she sends in a dull, slow-moving
urchin who starts off with the pitcher,
being in great danger of dashing it in
pieces from the fact that he swings it
clear round his body in a circle, changing
it from one hand to the other.
"Now," you say to the waiting Mrs.
Hall, "I must have this water heated.
Have you a fire?" She departs and about
the time young Johnny returns with the
water she lumbers in with a tomato can
in her hand.
"The kitchen fire's out," she announces,
"and there's nowhere out there to heat
water, and you can't set nothin' very big
on that stove, so you can use this can and
heat it a little at a time."
The stove, as I have said, was one of
the air-tight kind, with a top about a foot
and a half in diameter and a lid like the
lid of a tea kettle fitting into it, leaving
a rim outside the lid about three inches
wide, and on that rim did Mrs. Hall
expect water to be heated in a tomato can
for a bath. A homesick feeling possessed
me for the first time since my departure
from the south, and I thought how futile
it would be to discuss the point with this
person who seemed to think a bath a
superfluous and extremely troublesome
indulgence.
A week of such existing and I decided
to try my fortunes somewhere else. I
found there was one other available room
in the town, and while it was a vast im-
provement in every respect, still some of
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LIFELONG DIVIDENDS ON FIFTEEN CENTS
the most amusing experiences of my stay
transpired here.
The family consisted of Mr. and Mrs.
Stone and their two children. Mr. Stone
always called Mrs. Stone "Roxie," and
she always designated Mr. Stone as "my
hussbun," or "Chaddy." The family
were constitutionally opposed to fresh
air, and as the rooms were mere dry-
goods boxes and as the kitchen stove and
the large heater in the dining room gave
out much heat and burned up much
oxygen, and since the five of us could
use up a good deal of oxygen and give
off a large quantity of carbonic acid gas,
I figured that we were breathing poisonous
air pretty much all the time.
Mr. Chaddy Stone was one of the weak-
est of the sons of earth, but with an ab-
normal bump of conceit. He had deserted
his trade of blacksmith and was living
on a tiny supply of cash he had accumu-
lated, and by not allowing his bills to
worry him in the least.
Mrs. Roxie Stone was a narrow-minded,
thrifty soul who worried a good deal over
Chaddy's propensity for holding down
street corners, though with the tenacity
of Mrs. Micawber she held that Chaddy
had talents of such a character that so
small a town as that in which they now
resided gave him no opportunity for their
display, and she daily sighed for resi-
dence in a metropolis which would afford
the congenial atmosphere for Chaddy's
peculiar gifts, whatever they might be.
In the evening Chaddy would always
discover that his feet were cold and damp,
and he would sit in front of the dining
room fire and divest himself of his shoes,
and would soon have a bit of curling
steam arising from his drying stockings,
not to mention the odor. Roxie would
read a while and then take up her needle
and beguile us with the latest metro-
politan scandal which the papers happened
at the time to be reporting.
Maudie, the irrepressible fourteen-year-
old daughter would make a farcical pre-
tence of studying, and would incidentally
drink in the recounted scandal, while
Chaddy would undertake the undressing
of his youngest hopeful, and as each
piece of master Tad's wardrobe came off
it would be piled on the sewing machine,
stockings, underwear and all, until the
very walls would cry out for an open
window and a current of fresh air.
If the minister happened to be men-
tioned in a conversation, Chaddy would
promptly label the reverend gentleman
as a "blow-hard," and if the judge's name
were spoken, Chaddy would at once
divest you of all doubt of the judge's
standing, in his mind at least, by announc-
ing him to be a "big bluff"; it was well
known to us that the school principal —
the best-educated man the town afforded —
was, in Chaddy's estimation, a "wind-
bag." And so it went — no one seemed to
have the unqualified good opinion of Mr.
Chaddy Stone, except Mr. Chaddy Stone
himself.
In the morning after Mrs. Stone and
Chaddy and Maudie and Tad had dressed
in the dining-room by the side of the red-
hot stove, the fire in which had been kept
burning all night, breakfast would be
served in the presence of at least the
two night-gowns of the children.
A brilliant red cloth covered the table
and from the thickest of china we partook
of a meal that might have gone down
rather well if you did not happen to know
too much of the workings of the culinary
department. Chaddy would usually pick
a quarrel with one or both of the children
and the atmosphere would be tense and
at least one of the children would be
whimpering and snivelling. Chaddy, with
the air of a gentleman who will have
order and excellent behavior in his home
at any price, would seat himself at the
table and reach for everything in sight,
and after bountifully helping himself
would, if you asked him, pass the dishes
to you.
Eating noisily, with the aid of his
knife — which he often dipped into the
jelly or butter, having1 taken the precau-
tion before to "lick" both sides of the
knife well — he would proceed to deliver
himself of his ideas on the recent encounter
with the children, thereby keeping the
children wrought up to a high degree of
nervousness and sometimes reducing even
his ardent admirer, Roxie, to tears of sym-
pathy with her much maligned offspring.
Rising from the table one morning after
having bolted his food he repaired to the
LIFELONG DIVIDENDS ON FIFTEEN CENTS
465
kitchen and through the open door I
could not help seeing every move he made.
"Roxie, where is the drinking dipper?"
"On the table or the stove, r had it
just now filling the coffee pot."
"Well, it ain't here, I can't find it."
"Chaddy, it must be there, right on
the stove, I think."
Chaddy finds the dipper and the rest
is a pantomime: Chaddy fills the dipper
half full of water, takes out his false teeth
and drops them in the dipper and gives
them a vigorous brushing with his tooth-
brush, and then steps to the door and
throws out the water and hangs up the
dipper.
The odd experiences of this rural place
satisfied even my abnormal craving for
the "out of the ordinary." One bright
day a better boarding place was found
for me with congenial friends, and with
my work and new surroundings I was busy
and happy. Shortly after my removal to
the home of my good friends I received a
letter which at the time did not seem so
significant, but in the light of later develop-
ments came to impress me, for it showed
the state of my correspondent's feelings
for me, and the way I looked at my own
present and future at that time.
"I have thought," wrote my dear
friend, "that it is a very foolish thing for
you to do to go off to these outlandish,
out-of-the-world places to teach in country
schools, where you have so little oppor-
tunity of meeting desirable people. The
next thing you know, my dear, you'll
be settling down to confirmed spinster-
hood, and it will be your own fault, and
you'll have nobody to blame but your
headstrong self, now that I've warned you.
Perhaps you have not thought of it this
way before. Now, in that town where
you are throwing your life away, at the
present moment how many eligible men
are there? I know you'll have to answer
'none.' Just so, and by the time you leave
there you will have wasted another six
months. Do, please, in your next letter
tell me that you are sensible enough to
see the force of what I'm saying, and then
prove it by not applying for or accepting
that school next year."
In less than two weeks my friend was
reading my reply:
"How your jolly letter did liven me up!
You were always funny, and when you
go to work in Cupid's interest you outdo
yourself. I'm not such an ancient maiden
that I cannot afford to see these 'outland-
ish, out-of-the-world places' if they interest
me. Six months is not much to lose, and
I feel that I can afford to because I am
not so eager to marry as my friends are
to marry me off. Eligible men? Well,
that depends upon what in your mind
constitutes eligibility. A school teacher
near here recently married a fine, big,
strong, young Indian! Another woman
with a good education married a man
worth several hundred thousand dollars
who has not squandered his time upon
such superfluities as learning to write
his name and therefore he takes the much
shorter and quite , as convenient way of
making his mark when he draws his
checks. One woman married the owner
of six thousand head of cattle, and they
say she dons masculine attire and rides
the ranges with 'hubby' because she is
so devoted that she cannot bear to have
him go without her. At least your cul-
tured city society cannot show as many
varieties of the man eligible as my town
can! Cheer up, my dear Evelyn, you
cannot tell what day I may turn a corner,
and, lo, there will be my affinity face to
face — until then, believe me, I am wasting
no time looking for him and I am so happy
in this great, big unconventional country
among these free-hearted and lovable
people. But to your everlasting credit\
I am going to write it down in my diary \
that you gave me timely warning, so that
when I am a thin and bony devotee of
spinsterhood (I weigh 170 now) I cannot
upbraid you for not having turned prophet
and predicted my lonely, cat-loving and
tea-drinking destiny."
So the busy days sped along. Moun-
tain apples had always been a special
weakness of mine, and a friend had said
that he would give me a. bag full if I would
call one particular evening for them at
his store. It was a stormy night, one of
those snowy, windy nights when the fire
looks most alluring and even the plainest
of rooms has a home-like appearance if
there be a big fire and a comfortable arm-
chair, and positive luxury reigns if added
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LIFELONG DIVIDENDS ON FIFTEEN CENTS
to the fire and arm-chair one has a bag
of good apples, a box of candy and a new
magazine. What woman making her way
in the busy business world has not occasion-
ally given herself up entirely to such ex-
travagant luxury?
So I set forth in the howling storm to
procure those articles that were to give
me one delightful evening all by myself,
for being Saturday night I had forsworn
all work of a school nature and deter-
mined to entertain myself as hard-working
teachers deserve once in a while.
Having my apples and candy tucked
safely under my storm cape I went to
look up a good magazine. If you remember
the slow train and the miles of stage-
driving you will readily understand why
no superfluous freight was brought into
this little town. Therefore, I was not
surprised when two and only two maga-
zines were presented for my choosing,
nor did I hesitate to consider purchasing
them when I found that they were two
months old. To the young lady who
offered them I complained that the better
known of the two was a publication that
I did not particularly like. She took the
other magazine in her hands and remarked,
"I really think you would like this NA-
TIONAL MAGAZINE. I have read it and it
has excellent reading matter, treats of
affairs of the nation and events of the
day, and those things in which you are
most interested." I knew her judgment
could be trusted, so without opening the
book at all I paid for it, took it and started
homeward. Once in my cheery room I
opened my box of candy, peeled and
quartered two apples, so that when I once
started to feed my brain I should not have
to stop to feed my stomach. Then drawing
my big chair close to the roaring fire I
put my feet comfortably on a stool and
leisurely opened my magazine.
On the first page I read, "Affairs at
Washington, by Joe Mitchell Chappie."
The contents of this page read well, full
of information and not stilted but inter-
esting from the first. I turned the page,
and the book almost dropped from my
hand, for there as natural as life appeared
the face of a man that had been the friend
of my family and whom I had not seen
since childhood some twenty years pre-
vious. The face I knew immediately, and
if proof be needed there was the name
in print below the picture and near at
hand an article telling of our friend's
recent election to the United States Con-
gress. All my childish affection for the
friend who had been so kind to me in
former years — for every child loves to be
noticed and petted by its elders — came
to the surface. For probably the first
time in my life I let my heart act without
consultation with and approval of my head,
and soon I had my pen in hand writing a
word of sincere congratulation that the
people had recognized his good offices
for the community and state at large by
this signal honor — his election to Congress.
After the stage coach had taken my
letter and it was in Uncle Sam's keeping
and where I could not get it, my head
began to tell my impulsive heart that I
had done a foolish thing, for was not this
a very busy man, and would he remember
the little girl of years ago, and would he
want to be bothered with superfluous
correspondence? I blushed at my hasti-
ness, but the letter was speeding eastward.
In due time such a kindly, friendly
letter came in reply to mine that I took
heart again and thought that after all
my offense had not been so great. And
in this way a delightful correspondence
began.
*****
A year later this letter went to my friend
Evelyn Mosier:
"Dear Evelyn: — I hope you will take my
advice — you know you have always been the
dispenser of advice and I the recipient —
but now I want the thing reversed, and I
herewith advise you to go out of the prophesy-
ing business because I can prove that you
are an unworthy prophet.
I am engaged to marry in a few weeks,
and where do you suppose that I had to go
to find my affinity? To that very "out-
landish, out-of- the- world town" at the top
of the map, that you warned me against.
He doesn't have to make his mark in lieu
of writing his name, and he does not ride
the ranges and he isn't an Indian! But if
I had not come to this little town I very
likely would never have found this, the best
of men. Of course, womanlike, you want to
know all about the romance, and so you shall,
but not until I can tell it to you, and that
will be in about two weeks when you come
to the dear old city of San Francisco for
your vacation. When I see you I will a
WHILE DREAMS ABIDE 467
tale unfold that will convince even you that of the NATIONAL MAGAZINE as a reminder
it was right for me to 'bury' myself in a r haonv event "
little town like B . Of course, I am * * V6r* * apPY, L .. „ T , «T
the happiest country school teacher in the l am Slad You brought it," I reply. I
whole state, and can hardly wait to tell you all always feel that I have a real affection
about the man par excellence." for that magazine, even for those that I
see displayed in the book-stalls; and I've
It is the anniversary of our marriage, been thinking that ten thousand times
and I have taken out the treasured copy fifteen cents would not induce me to part
of the NATIONAL MAGAZINE that led to with this old NATIONAL that started this
our correspondence and ultimate happi- romance."
ness, and while I sit reading and dreaming "And I have often wondered," mused
over this old magazine my husband conies my husband, "what might have happened
in, saying, "Dear, this is our anniversary, if you had bought the other magazine that
and I have brought you the latest copy night!"
WHILE DREAMS ABIDE
By EDWARD WILBUR MASON
"VV7HILE dreams abide we still have wealth
W And priceless store of gold and gem.
Our buoyant soul is crowned with health
As monarch with rich diadem.
A vine- wreathed joy with dancing feet
Goes singing ever at our side.
And all our days with songs are sweet
While dreams abide.
While dreams abide we still have power
And magic strength to do and dare.
Our busy hands can find the flower,
Or turn to deed and service fair.
Our hope forever seeks the skies,
Our ideal takes the star for bride.
And light celestial fills our eyes,
While dreams abide.
While dreams abide we still have youth,
And happy heart to lift above.
Around, us we can see the truth
Of beauty and immortal love.
Nor age can chill our eager breath,
Nor freeze our life's warm rushing tide,
For we shall conquer time and death,
While dreams abide.
IS THE MILLIONAIRE A MENACE?
By JUDGE JOSEPH CROCKETT MITCHELL
IS THE millionaire, or even the many
* times millionaire, a menace to the
public welfare? His superior acquisitive
abilities energetically exercised as op-
portunities under our social economy have
presented themselves to him, brought
to him his millions, or perhaps he obtained
them through devise or inheritance. Does
our public welfare demand such change
in our general economy, that the future
accumulation of such enormous fortunes,
or the transmission of them in solido by
devise or laws of inheritance, shall be fore-
stalled? The socialistic tendencies of the
times, the extent to which millionaires
are berated from the platform and in the
public press by socialistic empirics, make
worthy of analytical consideration the
question — does not the millionaire, whether
he will or not, render a useful service to
society? We speak of those millionaires
who spend their money and not of those
miserly freaks, negligible in number, who
hide away their money, and neither use
or permit it to be used productively, or
in any manner spend it.
We first consider the millionaire as a
spender only for the gratification of an
inordinate pompous vanity, a passion for
gorgeous luxuries and ostentatious dis-
play and unrestrained by conscience in
his indulgence of his baser appetites and
propensities, and not as a spender in
promoting and establishing productive
institutions, or schools, or public libraries,
or public hospitals, or charitable institu-
tions. In short we first consider him as
devoid of human feeling and wholly de-
voted to vanity and to himself, and un-
moved by the miseries of others. Does
even such an one, possessed of millions,
in an economic as distinguished from a
moral sense, menace the continued well-
being of society?
- ,We divide not by a rigid line, all com-
modities into (1) necessaries, and (2) non-
necessaries, placing in the first all those
necessary to physical comfort and well-
being, together with such frugal amenities
and conveniences as are required for de-
cent and fairly refined living, and placing
all others in the second. Indeed, let the
division line be sufficiently pliant and
elastic as to allow that what may be non-
necessaries in one decade, may become
necessaries in the succeeding. Certainly
any community in which every person by
moderate effort and frugality can be readily
supplied with necessaries, as above allowed,
is, or at least should be, a happy one.
* * *
Civilization had its start in division
of labor, and the distribution through ex-
change of the products thereof, and has
advanced as such division has been in-
creased by sub-division. That is, the
existence of a civilization, above a very
low degree, is inconceivable in any society
in which there should be no exchange,
and in which each member would have
to produce, create and manufacture with
his own hands, every identical thing he
and those dependent on him should use
and consume.
Value is the ratio of exchange between
commodities. Such ratio is ever changing,
responsive to supply and demand. A
direct exchange of commodities by barter,
this identical thing for that identical
thing, cannot possibly be carried on with
a rapidity necessary for a civilized society.
But barter has been obviated and exchanges
have been made easy, by the thing called
money — a commodity readily divisible
into any number of aliquot parts, easily
portable, not perishable and of all portable
commodities, fluctuating the least in
volume; and by a kind of unwritten im-
memorial convention of all people, is
accepted in exchange for any commodity
one desires to procure, and is given in
exchange for any commodity one desires
to dispose of. For such reason money is
a ready and universal denominator of the
(468)
IS THE MILLIONAIRE A MENACE?
469
ever-changing ratio of exchange between
commodities.
Money as a commodity may be placed
in our class entitled necessaries, only dif-
fering from others of the class, in that it
is not destroyed by use, while the others
are. Of course we mean by the word
money, metallic coin, and do not include
paper that passes current as money, for
such is really not money, since it passes
as money only because of some under-
written assurance that it will be redeemed
in real money. Indeed it may be just-
ly said that gold coin is the only real
money, for it is the world's conventional
denominator of values.
Of course gold coin will, by continual
use, in the end be worn out by abrasion;
but abrasion, especially under the modern
universal use of checks and drafts, where-
by it serves all the uses of its existence,
though locked up in vaults and only oc-
casionally brought to the open and physi-
cally transferred from hand to hand, will
wear it away so slowly, so little decade
by decade, century by century, that for
practical reasoning on economic matters,
it may be taken as a predicate that a
piece of gold coin is never consumed — is
never permanently lost [to society, unless
it falls into the hands of a freak that casts
it into the sea or otherwise hides it where
it can never be found.
* * *
Food by being eaten is destroyed;
raiment by use falls to shreds; fuel by
being burned turns to smoke and ashes;
tools, appliances, utensils, furniture and
all commodities of convenience, wear out
of use, and buildings that shelter, decay
and fall to pieces. But a twenty dollar
gold piece by being passed from hand to
hand, or by being checked against, may
in one day carry its value in other com-
modities to a hundred different families,
and do the same day after day for centuries,
and still remain unconsumed.
By division of labor, the moderate labor
and exertion of only a portion of the people
is sufficient to produce necessaries for all,
and that portion all the time diminishes
proportionately to the never-ending ex-
ploits of genius in the invention of labor-
saving implements, tools, appliances and
machines. That all may have the neces-
saries, those not employed in their pro-
duction must have something to exchange
for them. Nature has provided for this,
in that all crave ease and elegance, and
myriads crave ostentation and gorgeous
luxury and expensive pleasures. Such
craving makes non-necessaries a quid pro
quo in exchange for necessaries, and the
greater the demand for non-necessaries,
the wider will be the distribution of
necessaries. And nature was wise in pro-
viding that such craving can never be
surfeited; but that fancy shall ever de-
mand variety and novelty, and vanity
ever demand gorgeous and ostentatious
show, for such are a sine qua non to a
worldwide distribution of necessaries.
* * *
The multi-millionaire consumes no more
of the necessaries than does the ordinary
man — that is, his consumption of neces-
saries does not lessen the world's supply
any more than does that of the ordinary
man. The young rake who exchanged his
inherited lands for money and then squan-
dered the money on courtesans and over
the gaming table, did not take the estate
from the world — the land remained and
the money remained; he only relinquished
the management from himself to others.
So, the money that comes to the multi-
millionaire is not thereby blotted from
existence, but continues to exist, it cannot
gratify his cravings, be they noble or be
they vile, except he spends it; and when
he spends it, it becomes scattered and
carries necessaries hither and thither
among the people. Money spent in the
erection of a two million dollar palace
and another million in beautifying the
grounds on which it sets, goes to laborers,
craftsmen and artisans, from them to
dealers, shopkeepers and merchants, from
them to factory men and agriculturists and
so on and on ad infinitum backward and
forward, purchasing necessaries for families
one day, non-necessaries for others another
day, never stopping and never ending in
its distribution of commodities.
The greater the demand for non-neces-
saries, the wider will be the distribution
of necessaries, and the greater the rewards
to all producers. Therein is a partial
explanation of the rise in price of food
stuffs. Accumulated wealth is great and
470
IS THE MILLIONAIRE A MENACE?
continually growing greater and by reason
thereof the insatiable demand for non-
necessaries brings an increasing fund to the
producers thereof, that enables such pro-
ducers to increase their demand on produc-
ers of necessaries, especially food stuffs.
We are not asserting that it is a matter
of indifference to society how money
may be spent. That is, we are not claim-
ing that the spending of money in vicious
indulgence is of as great benefit to society
as the spending of it for philanthropic
purposes. We are not moralizing. We
are only asserting that the spending, for
whatsoever purpose, is the distributing
of commodities. If the multi-millionaire
should spend two millions of dollars in
paying laborers for pumping water out
of the sea and then back into the sea, he
would be distributing commodities the
same as if he should spend the same amount
in the erection of cathedrals or the support
of missionary societies — all this perforce
inexorable natural law.
* * *
We may rail at the ostentatious luxury
of our over-rich, at their palaces, grounds
and snobbery; at their gorgeous equipages,
dress, jewelry, furniture and luxurious
ease; at their banquets, foolish sports and
dissolute midnight revels, yet the expendi-
tures for all these things do not in the
least lessen the world's supply of neces-
saries nor hamper, but on the other hand
rather promote and enlarge the distribu-
tion thereof.
Indeed are not the lavish luxuries of
millionaires useful agents in our economy?
If there should be no demand for those
non-necessaries of such expensive character
that only millionaires can purchase — that
is, if there should be no demand for non-
necessaries, except those comparatively
so unpretentious that persons of moderate
means could purchase, it may be question-
able whether there could be demand enough
for non-necessaries to keep up that dis-
tribution of necessaries throughout a
scope sufficient for the comfort of all.
And in answering such question, the
thought that all the time the portion of
people required in the production of neces-
saries sufficient for the comfort of all, is
proportionately all the time diminishing.
Certain it is, that unnumbered thousands
are employed in pandering and catering
to our people of swollen fortunes, menials,
lackeys, flunkeys, footmen, and such like;
kitchen maids and maids in waiting;
musicians, highly-gifted artists and the
most ingenious artisans; builders, skilled
mechanics, Jacks-of-all-trades, common
laborers, and so on ad infinitum. If those
thousands were dependent for their liveli-
hood on the production of only those non-
necessaries that persons of moderate means
could purchase, the efficient demand for
necessaries would certainly be much
narrower in scope than it now is.
* * *
Ownership is nothing more than the
right to administer. Perforce in the nature
of things an owner is only a trustee, and
the world is the cestui qui trust. Let me
illustrate. A landlord may own fifty
thousand acres of land which he keeps
leased to others. Now the products raised
and harvested on that farm by the occupant
tenants add to the world's supply as
essentially as if raised and harvested by
them as fee simple owners of the soil.
And that fact is not modified by the further
fact that the occupants paid rent to the
landlord. If the rent was paid in kind,
the landlord would sell for, or in some
manner convert such rent kind into
money, and the money would do him no
good only as he would hand it back to
the world in consideration of needed
commodities or desired pleasures and
luxuries.
The point we seek to impress is, that
the millionaire despite himself is only a
distributing agent; some distribute wiser
than do others, but none are dangerous.
But there are other millionaires than the
class we have been considering, and in
the future we propose to show and point
out their great and indispensable services
to society. We never saw a millionaire —
we do not care whether we ever see one;
we simply look upon them, not only as
actual, but as necessary factors in the
distribution of the comforts of life among
the world's masses. That is, they are
simply a kind of useful beast of burden
for us common people and as such do not
deserve our lashings or abuse.
By LOUIS B. KINDER
nEON GOLDSTEIN'S sallow face
grew pale and his jet eyes blink-
ing at the discovery of a small
crowd gathered before his shop.
A moment before, inhaling self-satisfac-
tion from his cigarette, he had smiled up
at the sun which had just popped into a
patch of open sky. It had been raining
when he had gone to lunch; water still
stood on the sidewalk and in the street
and dripped from awnings and signboards.
Above, the shower clouds fled in routed
squadrons and the sky grew deeper azure
as the sun waxed brilliant. At sight,
however, of the crowd before his show-
window Goldstein's cigarette drooped on
his lip and his little jet moustache blinked
in sympathy with his little jet eyes.
As many of you have never seen Gold-
stein's shop, and some probably will
never have occasion to pass down the
street on which it is located, I hasten
with the information that its frontage
then consisted of a show-window, and a
glazed door, and a great gilt and black
sign; and that the sign was blazoned
"BRAZILIAN BRILLIANTS," and the door
embellished with an invitatory, gilt "Walk
In," and the window a-glitter with paste
jewelry framed by ablaze of electric bulbs.
Yesterday morning Goldstein, taking
a similar crowd as a tribute to his window
decorations, had found the center of interest
to be a girthly policeman guarding a
jagged hole in the side panel of the show-
window inside which lay a genuine half
brick that burglars had left in exchange
for a fistful of paste stones. To be sure
by plastering the front of his shop with
signs: "THIS is THE WAY WE FOUND OUR
STORE WHEN WE' CAME DOWN TOWN THIS
MORNING"; "BRAZILIAN BRILLIANTS DEFY
DETECTION: The Burglars Couldn't Tell
the Difference They Took The BRILL-
IANTS In Preference To The Diamonds,"
Goldstein more than recouped the loss by
theft. Notwithstanding, he did not fancy
an encore. Wherefore, at the discovery
of this second crowd before his window,
he flung aside his self-satisfaction and
cigarette and ran toward it fearing the
worst.
As he approached his alarm was at
first quickened by the discovery that
there was no policeman to restrain the
crowd, then relieved by the discovery
that the window was not broken. He
now noted that the crowd, whose numbers
apprehension had magnified, was composed
for the most part of young men.
"It must be the carat solitaires at two
thirty-eight," he murmured and glowed
appreciation of the lovely sentiment that
prompted the giving of engagement rings
as, with a bland "Please excuse!" he el-
bowed his way to the window from which,
however, he recoiled in disgust.
It was only his clerk Josephine ! Some-
body, probably Josephine herself — she
was a careless girl — had left open the
door into the show-window. Its square
framed her head and bust. Goldstein
looking again saw that Josephine was
pretty — a brunette with sparkling eyes
and languid lashes. Heretofore, he had
regarded her merely as pert, tardy and
ambitious. Now she held up a sunburst,
turning it this way and that as though
exhibiting it to those without; and now
she turned a piquant profile to the window
(471)
472
GOLDSTEIN'S MATRIMONY WINDOW
and now she faced it again holding up a
more splendid sunburst — Goldstein in-
voluntarily noted that it was a five dollar
one. Her attitude was coaxing; her red
lips moved as though assuring the specta-
tors that this was a great bargain. Yet
she appeared as unconscious of the admira-
tion she was attracting as of the efforts of
the gathered gallants to provoke her
attention. And Josephine by disposition
was flirtatious! Only the day before
Goldstein had had occasion to rebuke
her for making eyes at a young man who
only bought a forty-eight cent watch pin.
Of a sudden realizing that he was staring
raptly into his own window at his own
clerk Goldstein flushed and, disintegrat-
ing himself from the crowd, pompously
entered the shop.
On its threshold fresh astonishment
seized him. For Josephine was not before
the opening in the. show-window as he
had imagined but was standing behind
the opposite counter waiting upon a
stout dame in a stupendous hat who was
choosing a sunburst to go with her double
chin. For a breath Goldstein stared and
pulled at his moustache. He stared so
hard that the stout customer scowled and
Josephine turned scarlet. Then with
comprehension he tossed back his head,
chuckled and took out a cigarette. The
mystery lay in two mirrors. One directly
across from Josephine reflected her into
another directly behind the show-window.
Goldstein, still chuckling, lit his cigarette.
As he did so two of the spectators entered.
They were the beginning of a brisk young
man business that swelled the afternoon
sales perceptibly.
"God of Moses!" he exuberated that
evening over a double porterhouse and
mushrooms. "I feel like the woman who
found out how much better a doughnut
was with a hole in it. After this I shall
always leave a hole in the back of my store
window."
* * * *
Thenceforward there was always a
crowd before Goldstein's window and
several young men buying "brilliants"
of Josephine. To be sure they bought
chiefly forty-eight arid ninety-nine cent
jewelry. But a fair percentage purchased
the more expensive gewgaws and those
that bought the cheap came often. Now
business boomed he no longer scolded
Josephine; and now the preponderance
of custom having shifted from "cranky"
women to "nice" young men, Josephine
no longer threatened to leave and clerk
in the "Glass Block." Despite the in-
creased value of her services Goldstein
did not raise her salary. What was the
use? She had not asked him. But one
morning she gave him notice.
"No! No!" he protested tossing back
his head. "I'll give you a dollar a week
more. No? A dollar and half then?
Say — well, I'll make it an even fifty a
month!"
"Not if you'd make it an even hundred,"
laughed pretty Josephine. "I'm going
to be married."
* * * *
That evening Goldstein advertised in
the Eagle:—
"WANTED — A lady clerk for an exclusive
jewelry shop. Must be young and good
looking. Send photo and details. Address
2435 Eagle."
He got a peck of answers, and of photo-
graphs such a charming galaxy that he
felt certain that he could shut his eyes
and be delighted with his choice. Never-
theless he advised with Josephine, who
proved more critical. After a prolonged
inspection she selected a blonde, who
proving as satisfactory a person as in
photo, Goldstein promptly engaged her.
Her name was Carolyn. She was a
demure little thing with flaxen hair, blue
eyes and pretty teeth. Her voice was
soft as summer and she was always re-
spectful to Mr. Goldstein, which Jose-
phine had not been. She was a good sales-
woman, too. She could wheedle a ninety-
nine cent customer into a dollar thirty-
nine cent purchase. Moreover, although
she attracted more window-gazers than
her predecessor, she seemed as impervious
to their attentions as her reflection to
their ogling. But alas! at the end of the
month she gave notice.
"I won't be with you after Saturday,
Mr. Goldstein," she demurely announced.
"God of Moses!" he groaned, throwing
up his hands. "You are going to be
married!"
GOLDSTEIN'S MATRIMONY WINDOW
That evening he again advertised for
"photo, and details." From an answering
abundance he selected a brunette on the
principle that Josephine had lasted two
months to Carolyn's one. Jessica proved
less pretty and more flirtatious than the
two before her. She was not as good a
saleswoman, but her pretty figure attracted
the young men and business prospered.
Notwithstanding, Goldstein waxed miser-
able, for she coquetted before his very
eyes. At the end of two weeks she re-
signed to be married.
"God of Moses!" groaned Goldstein,
who although he had foreseen the inevitable
had not expected it so quickly.
His next clerk, Stella, was gaudy with
peroxide hair, greenish eyes and a de-
partment-store singsong. Her indifference
to business and her familiarity with the
customers grated on Goldstein who for
once felt no disappointment when at the
end of the week she broke the news:
"Stuff's off, Goldy. It's me to the
matrimony with the good-looker that's
been buying the forty-eight cent studs
twice a day this week. You know the one,
I mean, the guy with the brown derby and
the gold glasses and the cute moustache.
Say, your store's a regular man trap!"
Monday morning Goldstein via the
Sunday paper hired Madge. She wasn't
as pretty as her picture, possibly because
her hair was red, while he was expecting
a brunette. However, from the street
she looked attractive enough, for her nose
was retroussee and her graceful lids had
countless ways of making eyes. She was,
moreover, a gusher. Unlike any of her
predecessors she sold well to the lady
customers. At noon of the first day
Goldstein felt that he was going to like
her; at closing time he was resolved to
sign a matrimony-proof contract with
her for a year, when she forestalled him
with the announcement that she was
going to quit to be married.
"I've found my affinity — he's a motor-
man," she gushed. "I met him in the
store this morning and he came back
this afternoon and bought the engagement
ring. See, it's one of them two forty-
eight solitaires. We're to be married
day after tomorrow when he has his day
off. And I never, never would have met
him, if I hadn't clerked today in your
lovely shop. I owe my happiness to you,
Mr. Goldstein, all to you!"
* * * *
Goldstein returned to his shop that
evening in despair. In Moses' name why
had this pestilence of matrimony been
sent upon him? He, who had never
wronged even a landlady! It could not
be indignant Hymen, for at twenty-
eight he was not a bachelor but a widower.
His troubles dated from the accidental
leaving open of the door into the show-
window; hence also dated the soaring of
his sales; hence indeed dated this plague
of matrimony. - He seemed doomed to
a lifelong Gehenna of breaking in new
clerks. To be sure they might all go as
quickly as Madge. But before long his
shop would get a matrimonial reputation.
"Where did you get your wife?" people
would ask, and husbands would reply
"I got her and the engagement ring at
Goldstein's."
He flipped away his cigarette, and,
sticking his thumbs into the armholes
of his red-spotted vest glowered disconso-
lately up at the ceiling. Of a sudden his
black eyes snapped and he tossed back
his head.
"What do I put my brilliants in the
window for?" he cried and slapped his
knee as he answered: "To sell 'em! What
happens when I put my clerk in the show-
window? I marry her off! Josephine,
the prettiest, was in the window two
months before she was taken; Madge,
the homeliest, was snapped up the first
day. What does it mean?" He groaned.
"It means that my window is sixty times
the marrying medium that it was in the
beginning! It means that I am giving
the best show-window space in the city for
nothing! Nothing!! But what can I do? I
need a pretty clerk to draw trade! And —
His head drooped and his fingers
(his thumbs were still in his armholes)
drummed on his shirt-front. Of a sudden
he tossed back his head, chuckled and
slammed his feet and front chair legs
upon the floor.
"I have it!" he laughed. "I'll make
my matrimony window pay for the trouble
it makes. I'll make my clerks pay me
one hundred dollars a husband. If one
474
GOLDSTEIN'S MATRIMONY WINDOW
was to marry every day that would be
twenty-six hundred a month — five times
what the brilliants pay me. But that's
a dream. I can't count on more than a
looking girl a husband within thirty
days; wide selection. At the same time
furnish a pleasant position paying ten
dollars per week, which, if desired, may
be applied on fee. Send photo. Applica-
tions will be filled in order of eligibility.
Address Eagle 7653."
In all he received forty-seven replies,
eight of which he judged to be what he
wanted. A ninth he considered worthy
of investigation. The photograph sent
with it was that of a blonde of eighteen,
"Leon" said she, pointing out of the window at a passing electric coupe, "just as
soon as we are settled to housekeeping I want one of those"
marriage a week; that will pay my rent
twice over. God of Moses! What a
head I have! But I wouldn't be where
I am, if I didn't have brains."
* * * *
In the next day's Evening Eagle Gold-
stein advertised: —
"GET A HUSBAND QUICK— For One
Hundred Dollars I Guarantee Any good-
a blending of Josephine's piquancy with
Carolyn's demureness. The letter said
in part:
"Not having a good photo of myself
I send one of my sister Louise. I desire
a husband at once and will pay you two
hundred dollars — half cash, the balance
upon the fulfillment of your part of the
contract.
"PHYLLIS NOOTNAGEL."
GOLDSTEIN'S MATRIMONY WINDOW
475
"I'll have her come first," decided Gold-
stein with a decisive backward toss of
the head. "If she's only half as good
looking as her sister, she'll marry inside
a week. Besides if I don't like her looks
I needn't take her. And, God of Moses,
she offers two hundred dollars!"
That afternoon a sallow young woman
in a bedraggled hat and a shabby tan suit
briskly entered the "Brazilian Brilliants"
shop. Goldstein stepped forward to wait
upon her. It being Thursday he took her
for a servant girl of the better class, and
paused before the case of sunbursts for
which the "maids" had a predilection.
As he regarded her more keenly, how-
ever, the feeling that he had seen her
before forced itself upon him, but it was
not until she opened her thick-lipped
mouth that he identified the saucy in-
ward tilt of her gray eyes and the saucy
upward tilt of her little nose.
"I wish to see Mr. Goldstein," said she,
making his jet eyes flinch before her
steadier gaze; and when our friend ad-
mitted that he was Mr. Goldstein, intro-
duced herself:
"I am Miss Phyllis Nootnagel."
"You won't do," he scowled.
"What's your proposition?" she de-
manded coolly.
He sulkily described his matrimony
window. She nodded approvingly. He
could not help but admire her business
air. If only she were not so homely! ,
"Can't your sister come?" he demanded
after a silence during which Phyllis sized
up the shop. "I'll take her for a hundred
dollars."
"She's engaged. Do you think I'd have
to come here, if I was as pretty as she is!"
Again Goldstein flinched beneath her
gray eyes. When he looked at them they
seemed dull; but when they looked at
him they dazzled. While he mentally
cursed himself for rashly biting at her
two hundred dollar bait, Phyllis equan-
imously took out her hat pins and set
the dowdy rooster-tail creation upon his
immaculate showcase.
"What are you doing?" he gasped, his
astonishment being augmented by the
pretty way in which her hair was puffed.
"I'm going to work," she returned,
coolly shedding her shabby jacket revealing
an elaborately embroidered white waist.
"Your proposition is satisfactory to me."
"But you are not satisfactory to me!"
shrieked Goldstein.
"Step out and look at me through the
window," ordered Phyllis still equanimous.
"It's my complexion. I won't look badly
from the street."
As the easiest way of getting rid of her,
he churlishly obeyed. While he sauntered
out Phyllis deftly set the artificial palm
behind her for a background. The effect
was pleasing. Goldstein gaping through
the window admitted to himself that she
looked as well as Madge who had been
snapped up the first day. He re-entered
the store with a favorable smirk on his
face which, however, vanished at a near
view of her sallow homeliness. Her keen
eyes noted this.
"I look all right from the street, don't
I, Mr. Goldstein?"
"Ye-es."
"It doesn't matter, then. Once they're
in I'll sell them the goods."
Goldstein hesitated. Phyllis calmly
opened her bag and took out a wad of five
dollar bills, which she told off upon the
counter. The blood rushed into Gold-
stein's face, and into his eyes cupidity.
"One hundred dollars," she announced,
adroitly topping the heap with a twenty
dollar bill. "And now give me a receipt."
"How businesslike she is!" thought
Goldstein admiringly and tossed back
his head with decision. "I'll take you,"
he grunted.
While he wrote the receipt Phyllis hung
up her hat and jacket in the clothes closet.
"This won't do," she declared when he
handed it to her. "You've got to put in
that you'll forfeit the same amount if you
fail to get me a husband in thirty days."
"Eh!" gasped Goldstein.
"In your advertisement you guarantee
a husband in thirty days. I've paid you
in advance and it's only fair that you
secure me against failure by you to carry
out your part of the contract."
"How businesslike she is!" thought
Goldstein. "And, God of Moses, how
homely!"
As he turned his eyes dubiously upon
her she slightly turned away her head,
turned it just enough to show the saucy
476
GOLDSTEIN'S MATRIMONY WINDOW
inward tilt of her little nose, and the pretty
way in which her hair was puffed. 'Twas
a shrewd turn, Phyllis!
Had she let Goldstein gaze directly
into her face he never — as it was she
gave him a wink to glimpse not estimate
her facial assets; then whirled her gray
eyes upon him. They made him drop
his own, drop them to the hundred dollars
on the counter. Smack upon the decision
that she was not much homelier than
Madge came the money's visual appeal,
abetted by the thought that a girl that
was smart enough to "get around" him
as she had would have little difficulty
to nab a husband. He tossed back his
head.
"I'll do it," he cried, again uncorking
his fountain pen. "I'll agree to forfeit
two hundred dollars if I don't get you a
husband in thirty days."
* * * *
In every way Phyllis proved an ideal
clerk. As she had said she looked well
enough from the street to attract trade,
and once a customer entered, she would
not let him escape without buying. For
three weeks Goldstein worried for fear
she would be taken from him; for seven
days he worried for fear that she was not
going to be taken at all. At quitting time
on the thirtieth day — a July Thursday —
she came to his desk.
"Mr. Goldstein," said she equanimously;
"I want my guaranteed husband."
"God of Moses!" he snorted. "I don't
keep them in the safe with my check-
book. They're on the outside of the
counter. Reach over and grab the best
you can get hold of."
"As you have failed in carrying out your
part of the contract," pursued Phyllis
still equanimous, "you will have to pay
me the forfeit."
Goldstein glowered; but Phyllis did not
flinch. He could not — would not throw
out two hundred dollars of good money
in this way.
"Give me another month," he pleaded,
all smiles. "I'll give the matter"—
"I will, provided you double the forfeit,"
smiled Phyllis.
"God of Moses!" ejaculated Goldstein.
"Time's money to me," declared the
girl. "Statistics show that a woman's
chances for marrying drop from forty-
three per cent at twenty-six to nineteen
per cent at twenty-seven. In five weeks
I'll be twenty-seven. So I've got to hurry,
for I'm not good-looking enough to win
out against the statistics."
"I'll take four weeks more with four
hundred dollars forfeit," growled Gold-
stein.
* * * *
It availed Goldstein's happiness little
that during the next thirty days the sales
of Brazilian Brilliants approached those
of the Christmas holidays. He was lend-
ing his best efforts to fulfill his husband
guarantee. But in vain he made Phyllis
be jewel her puffs and don a red silk waist
he purchased for her enhancement; in
vain he bragged up Phyllis to his friends;
in vain he dragged acquaintances into his
shop that they might meet Phyllis; in
vain he offered Mogavitch to extend the
mortgage he held on the latter's pawn
shop, if he would marry Phyllis.
At quitting time on the thirtieth day
she came to Goldstein's desk. He did
not wait for her to demand the guaranteed
husband.
"I want another thirty days," he begged.
"Next week I'll be twenty-seven,"
demurred Phyllis. "And my chance
of getting a husband will drop from forty -
three to nineteen per cent. You'll have
to double your forfeit."
"Eight hundred dollars!" screamed
Goldstein. "I'll pay you nothing. You
are discharged, Miss Nootnagel!"
"Very well, Mr. Goldstein," she re-
turned without a quaver. "I shall sue
you. In the meantime if you should wish
to see me, you will find me with the
Peruvian Sparklers Company. Their
manager has been in four times this week
trying to coax me to clerk for him."
"Stop!" shrieked Goldstein, as Phyllis
clapped on her rooster-tail creation. "I'll
take another thirty days with eight hun-
dred dollars forfeit."
* * * *
During those thirty days Goldstein
schemed, tossed nights, lost appetite,
hoped and despaired like a man seeking
to perfect a perpetual motion machine.
For a time he suspected that Phyllis
might be playing off to gain the forfeit.
THE STAR
477
But shrewd watching indicating the re-
verse of this, he fell to reviling the swine
before which he daily cast this Phyllis
pearl. In consequence of constant brood-
ing over her connubial value he came to
treasure her as a jewel of price that one
day would find a worthy customer. But
alas, this thirty days spun out faster than
the other thirty-day extensions had.
Just before quitting time on the last
day Goldstein sat at his desk writing out
a check payable to Phyllis Nootnagel for
eight hundred and ten dollars to cover
the forfeit and the week's wages due her.
He felt, indeed, like a gambler who has
lost a bet, and doubling it lost again,
and doubling the loss, still lost. He had
written as far as "Eight Hund — " when
feeling somebody looking over his shoulder
he wheeled about. It was Phyllis.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I
would so much rather have had a hus-
band."
Goldstein stared at her. She turned
away just enough to show the saucy in-
ward tilt of her eyes and the saucy up-
ward tilt of her little nose and the pretty
way in which her hair was puffed, then
whirled her keen gray gaze upon him. He
dropped his own which fell upon the check
and scrambled off as from a thistle.
"You did not have a single opportunity!"
he groaned, unconsciously drumming upon
the desk with the butt of his fountain pen.
"Not one!" moaned Phyllis tragically,
the while watching him out of the corner
of her eye.
"And you would —
"If I could!"
"Will you—"
He stopped, choked by recollection of
her passing homeliness. His glance fell
on the check. "Eight hund— God of
Moses!"
"Will you," he stammered, "will you
be Mrs. Leon Z. Goldstein?"
"Sure, Leon," beamed Phyllis, holding
out her hands.
He rose and took them. She coyly
drooped her head, drooped it so that
Goldstein must droop his own to catch
the saucy inward tilt of her eyes and the
saucy upward tilt of her little nose. And
when he did so, strange to say, her mouth
seemed sauciest of all! He kissed it, then
blissfully gazed down at the half written
check upon the desk.
"God of Moses!" he exulted under his
breath. "I've saved eight hundred dollars
cash and made a life contract with the
best clerk that ever was in my store!"
Phyllis, too, was exultant.
"Leon," said she, pointing out the
window at a passing electric coupe. "Just
as soon as we are settled to housekeeping
I want one of those."
THE STAR
V/"ON star that reigneth in the night
••• Looks calmly on us from its height,
While we, in darkness and distress,
Cry upward for the rays that bless.
Why lift the voice, let fall the tear?
Yon star will neither heed nor hear;
An ever-distant eremite,
It holds no sympathetic light.
To it our earth is but a spark
(Whose glow will soon melt in the dark)
From out the deep blown heavenward
By winds that ever sigh unheard.
— Henry Dumont, in "A Golden Fancy.
TELL HER SO
Amid the cares of married life,
In spite of toil and business strife,
If you value your sweet wife.
Tell her so!
Prove to her you don't forget
The bond to which your seal is set;
She's of life's sweet the sweetest yet —
Tell her so!
When days are dark and deeply blue,
She has her troubles, same as you;
Show her that your love is true —
Tell her so!
In former days you praised her style,
And spent much care to win her smile;
'Tis just as well now worth your while —
Tell her so!
There was a time when you thought it bliss
To get the favor of one kiss;
A dozen now won't come amiss —
Tell her so!
Your love for her is no mistake —
You feel it dreaming or awake —
Don't conceal it; for her sake
Tell her so!
You'll never know what you have missed,
If you make love a game of whist;
Lips mean more — than to be kissed
Tell her so!
Don't act as if she'd passed her prime,
As though to please her was a crime —
If e'er you loved her, now's the time;
Tell her so!
She'll return for each caress
A hundredfold of tenderness;
Hearts like hers are made to bless
Tell her so!
You are hers, and hers alone —
Well you know she's all your own;
Don't wait to "carve it on a stone" —
Tell her so!
Never let her heart grow cold —
Richer beauties will unfold;
She is worth her weight in gold
Tell her so!
From the Book "Heart Throbs,"
3Bteappearame of tfje
WHO IS TO BLAME?
By W. C. JENKINS
"I wish that our way had always lain among woods. Trees are the most civil society.
An old oak tree that has been growing where he stands since before the Reformation, taller
than many spires, more stately than the greater part of mountains, and yet a living thing,
liable to sickness and death, like you and me — is not that in itself a speaking lesson in history?
But acres on acres full of such patriarchs contiguously rooted, their green tops billowing in
the wind, their stalwart younglings pushing up about their knees; a whole forest, healthy and
beautiful, giving colour to the light, giving perfume to the air — what is this but the most im-
posing piece in nature's repertory?" — Robert Louis Stevenson.
CENTIMENT and commercialism need
^ not walk asunder in forest conser-
vation. True it is that for health and
pleasure forests of small extent must be
maintained where commercialism would
have none, and the forest covering and
surroundings of some of nature's beauty
spots should be undisturbed, but the com-
mercial use of the hundreds of millions
of acres of forests in this land of ours need
not often conflict with their use by the
seeker for health and pleasure. It is,
therefore, for the utilitarian as well as
aesthetic side that it can be said, if there
is any one duty more than another which
we owe to our children and our children's
children it is to save the forests of this
country while maintaining them in use.
We have become a nation of wood-users
to the extent that every person in the
United States is using on the average
more than six times as much wood as he
would if he lived in Europe. Consumption
of the American forest overtook produc-
tion a quarter of a century ago — today
consumption exceeds forest growth about
four times.
Since 1890 more than six hundred billion
feet of timber have been sawed into lumber.
Most of this lumber has been used in the
United States, although large quantities
of the better grades have been shipped to
European countries; hence we have not
only built up our American cities on the
basis of cheap lumber but we have sold
tp the people of other nations products
of our American forests at a price far
below their actual value.
The United States is today in the same
position with regard to forest resources
as was Germany one hundred and fifty
years ago. But the development of
methods for limiting and preventing the
waste and to foster, protect and preserve
the trees has immensely increased the
productivity of the forests of Germany.
In Saxony and Prussia, particularly the
latter, a policy of government control
and regulation has been applied with
marvelous results. Forest legislation began
in France about 1560; in 1824 the Forest
School at Nancy was established. Den-
mark began forestry about the same time.
Some of the European countries will not
grow forests as a commercial crop because
other crops pay better. Holland is one of
these countries; she can get her timber
cheaper by exchanging her farm product
for the timber of other countries. The
same is true of the different states of the
American Union. Some are adapted to
tree culture, while others will grow grain
and vegetables to better advantage.
Two areas supplying timber have
already reached and passed their maxi-
mum production; the northeastern states,
and the lake states. Today the southern
states are undoubtedly near their maxi-
mum. The Pacific states will soon be in
the ascendency, the state of Washington
now ranking first of all the individual
states in volume of timber cut each year.
In 1850 the northeastern states, con-
sisting of New York and New England,
supplied nearly fifty-five per cent of the
total lumber production; in 1860, thirty-
six per cent, and gradually relatively
declined until in 1909 they supplied but
(479)
480
RAPID DISAPPEARANCE OF THE FORESTS
7.5 per cent. The lake states passed all
other regions rapidly, and reached their
maximum relative production of thirty-
four per cent in 1880. For the next ten
years there was but little change in the
output from that section, but since 1890
there has been a constant decrease. Since
the first effects of the Civil War were over
the southern states have steadily increased
in production until in 1909 that section was
supplying 49.5 per cent of all our lumber.
Previous to 1890 the Pacific states terri-
tory was but a small factor in lumber pro-
duction. In 1909 that territory supplied
about one-sixth of the total lumber manu-
factured.
It has been determined that the average
age of the trees cut for lumber during
the year 1910 was not less than one hun-
dred and fifty years; therefore, if the
lumberman is to secure another crop of
the same age and quality, he must wait
at least one hundred and fifty years for
the second crop to grow. Such a harvest
is too remote, and at the present prices
too unprofitable for the individual; the
state alone can invest in such a manifestly
losing venture. Lumber trees will never
be planted and grown by the individual so
long as he knows that the enterprise will be
conducted at a loss. Since the settlement
of America the price of lumber has always
been far below a figure that would tempt
any man or woman to invest a dollar in
the growing of commercial woods.
We have been selling the products of
the American forests to the people of
Germany, France, England and other
European countries because they could
buy it cheaper than they could grow it
at home. In our generosity we have
donated to the people of foreign countries
$1.50 of the resources of the United States
for every fifty cents' worth of lumber
patronage they have given us. When
any national resource is put upon the
markets of the world at a price of less
than one -third for which it can be grown,
such a trade is a manifest loss to the
nation and is palpably an economic error.
The time will eventually come when
lumber will have to pay the cost of pro-
duction. The government may under-
take to grow trees on the timber pre-
serves and sell stumpage at a low price,
but the cost of production will remain
the same no matter what may be the sell-
ing price and any deficit will, in the end,
fall upon the people, as is the case in the
Post Office Department today.
We are concerned regarding the con-
servation of the soil because our food
products come directly, or indirectly,
from that source and any deterioration
of the soil fertility lessens in the same
degree the food-producing capacity of the
country. Waters are necessary factors
in transmitting soil elements into crops,
besides serving other useful purposes.
The forests may have an influence upon
rainfall; they have an undoubted in-
fluence upon the watershed of the high
lands and therefore upon water power and
navigation. But in addition to these
advantages the forest is the source of
supply for nearly everything used in the
arts. So diverse are the uses of its crops
and so necessary in our civilization are
its products that we cannot but admit
a deplorable state of national affairs
when we are confronted with the truth
regarding the certain shortage of standing
timber which in a few years must manifest
itself in a lessened supply.
At this late day there is a very general
concern and interest in forest conserva-
tion; it is one of the most important
questions of the hour. By a natural evo-
lution it has grown from an individual
conviction to a national issue. Where,
a few years ago, only an occasional voice
in the wilderness sounded the cry of
ultimate devastation, now there is a general
alarm from all quarters which will be
quieted only when the matter has ade-
quate consideration and radically im-
proved methods have been adopted.
So long as timber was abundant and
there was no thought of a scarcity it was
manufactured on a great scale as cheaply
and rapidly as possible. Our civilization
has been developed to its present degree
of importance largely as a consequence
of cheap lumber, but we have suddenly
discovered that it has been built up at
an enormous cost which must be paid by
the future.
One of the greatest problems confront-
ing the American people is that of an
adequate timber supply for the future.
RAPID DISAPPEARANCE OP THE FORESTS
481
PROM HEAD OF MIDDLE FORK, SNOQUALMIE RIVER
Crest of range south of Dutch Miller Pass, King County, Washington
History shows that retrogression and
decay have followed in the wake of timber
exhaustion in every nation, for the reason
that civilization and progress have always
been dependent on an unfailing timber
supply. Unfortunately this great ques-
tion has become, in many parts of the
United States, a political one and hence
Its
zeal
per-
con-
fair argument cannot be expected,
discussion cannot be shorn of the
of party ambition, the violence of
sonal animosities and the heat of
tention.
Since the beginning of civilization man
has been seeking means whereby the pro-
duction of human labor can be increased
482
RAPID DISAPPEARANCE OP THE FORESTS
and by which waste can be prevented.
Common sense dictates that each product
should be grown where it can be produced
to the best advantage and under this
inexorable law every grower, by exchang-
ing commodities, will at all times get the
necessities of life with the smallest possible
amount of self-sacrifice and exertion.
The law of supply and demand is, in
the last analysis, the governing factor in
every line of trade and in most industries
this law is constantly the subject of study
and investigation. For certain reasons
less, today a large class of people entertain
a belief that lumber manufacture is domi-
nated by combinations and trusts. Lum-
ber producers should in the interest of
sound economics and of the public wel-
fare avoid mistakes of the past, for their
mistakes cannot be corrected annually
as can those of the growers of other crops,
for they can grow but one crop in a life-
time.
This country has been cursed with bad
politics, emanating from prejudice and
false statements, and in many states may
LAND SKINNED OP ITS TIMBER AND BURNED OVER
after lumbering, and later heavily grazed by sheep. Wasatch National Forest, Utah
the lumber manufacturers have never
as a class been controlled by the condi-
tions of demand. There has supposedly
been a plentiful supply of timber to draw
from, and many believed it was inexhaust-
ible. Only in recent years has the fallacy
of this theory been proven. Manufac-
turers in most lines of trade are able by
mutual understanding, if not by open
agreement, to limit their output to the
measure of the demand, but the lumbermen
have not been able to control their in-
dustry in this manner. Every attempt
they have made has been misconstrued
by political agitators and therefore such
efforts have been abandoned. Neverthe-
be found laws aimed chiefly against the
lumbermen, and -conventions or meetings
for the consideration of trade conditions
and for trade education are characterized
as efforts to create combinations and
trusts and advance prices.
About four-fifths of the forest areas
of this country are owned by private
interests — one-fifth being held by the
states or the national government, chiefly
included in the forest reserve. The lands
controlled by individuals have come into
their possession under laws which the
highest courts have declared constitu-
tional. These lands have formed a part
of dead men's estates, of the inheritances
RAPID DISAPPEARANCE OF THE FORESTS
483
of children and security for investors,
and titles may be traced to the original
governmental grants and are beyond any
possible dispute; hence no method of
conservation can possibly be effectual
unless there be willing co-operation by
the lumber owners and the general govern-
ment. The people must recognize the
rights of the property owners, and the
latter in turn must acknowledge in their
methods, but the fact remains that there
is no other practical way of meeting the
situation. But any effort toward practical
conservation as applied in European
countries requires different laws and dif-
ferent methods of management from
those in effect in the various states today.
What measures shall be adopted to
preserve the American forest depends
largely upon conditions. This is anything
GOOD REGENERATION OF LODGEPOLE PINE AFTER FIRE
Cache National Forest, Utah
possessions a national resource of great
importance to all the people.
Paradoxical as it may seem, the forest
may be preserved and at the same time
furnish its crop for the benefit of the human
race. Practical statesmanship in other
countries has devised means whereby the
forests can be drawn upon for a consider-
able supply of timber and at the same
ime be kept in a healthy growing condi-
tion. We may look with disfavor upon
sentimental imitation of olcl country
but a simple problem, because of the
difference arising from conditions of soil
and climate, from the character and
different species of trees and especially
from financial considerations. Some people
believe that what the forester calls "se-
lective cutting" is a solution of the whole
problem. This plan provides that the
owners shall go into the forest and cut
the adult trees and fell them without
damaging those that are young and grow-
ing, and furthermore that they <shaU
484
RAPID DISAPPEARANCE OF THE FORESTS
remove all debris that would endanger the
trees that are left. This method is often
the only practical way of conserving a
forest, but as a general proposition it
cannot, at the present time, be applied
in this country. Some modification of
the method of selective cutting is all
that is possible; but no degree of forest
conservation can be successful without
the co-operation of all concerned, for it
is doubtful if the public has a right to
demand of certain individuals the per-
formance of any duty that involves ex-
^ pense without, in some manner, compen-
§ sating them" for the loss.
§ It is an idle question as to which pos-
% sesses the greater interest in our American
^ forests — the owner or the state. The
>J owner's interest lies largely in the adult
£ trees which are less liable to the fire
o damage; the state's interest is in the young
M and growing trees whose value lies entirely
< in the future. Inasmuch as both are
°_ vitally interested co-operative methods are
g manifestly essential for effective work.
There are serious obstacles in the way
< of forest development. The man who
w would grow trees as .an investment must
o be relieved to some extent of the burdens
g of taxation on his harvest. Under our
~ present system the tax expense alone
g would eat up the profits several times
« before the crop matures, and hence ex-
E tensive forest cultivation, under our pres-
g ent laws, is about as impossible as is the
« reclamation of the Desert of Sahara. But
g little reflection will show most people that
< the present methods of taxing lands is
§ wrong in principle and vicious in its ap-
g plication. The only possible effect of
«| such a system is just what has happened —
§ the destruction of the forest as speedily
^ as possible with absolutely no regard
§ for the future. The burden of excessive
jg local taxation has contributed in the most
£ pronounced and effective manner to de-
H nude the forest land in the least possible
§ time. To change the present system
J would require amendments to the con-
w stitutions of several states, but necessary
^ tax reform can be accomplished only
> in this way and until it is brought about,
fe neither the lumbermen nor anyone else
will become interested to any extent in
forest development and tree culture.
No doubt any suggestion to relieve
standing timber from excessive taxation
will invite a new attack of prejudice
RAPID DISAPPEARANCE OF THE FORESTS
485
against the timber owners, for it will be
claimed that any movement in this direc-
tion will be beneficial to their interests;
but the public would be benefitted to a
greater extent than the lumbermen. The
National Conservation Commission has
placed itself on record by saying "We
invite by over-taxation the misuse of our
forests and we destroy by fire in one year
timber enough to supply the whole United
States for three months. The conser-
which induces, through excessive taxation,
the diminution of the only crop which
steep mountain lands will produce profit-
ably. Taxes on forest lands should be
levied on the crop when cut, not on the
basis of a general property tax — that
unsound method of taxation abandoned
by every great nation." It was the opinion
of ex-President Roosevelt that "second
only in importance to good fire laws
properly enforced is the enactment of
A FOREST FIRE IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS
Rosebud County, Montana
vation of public forests is a similar task
between the nations and the states; the
larger task is to induce private owners —
three millions of men — to take care of
what they have and to teach the wood
users how not to waste. We must stop
forest fires. We must, by careful logging
and other methods, reduce waste and
leave cut-over lands productive. One
of the urgent tasks before the state is the
immediate passage of tax laws which will
enable private owners to protect and keep
productive their lands suitable for forest
growth. It is a short-sighted policy
tax laws which will permit the perpetua-
tion of existing forests."
If the timber men can be given protec-
tion against unnecessary and unwise
taxation of standing timber and if the
states will aid in preventing fires they will
begin to practice forestry on non-agri-
cultural land because it will pay them to
do so. It is manifestly unwise to leave
forest property at the mercy of mere
local governmental authority. It might
be possible that constitutional pro-
visions prevent a rescue of the forests
from these conditions. If such is the
486
RAPID DISAPPEARANCE OF THE FORESTS
case amendments should be speedily
voted.
It has always seemed a species of un-
equal taxation when we assess standing
timber — the crop of the forest — as real
estate. The farmer pays taxes on lands
and improvements, but never on his
crop, but the timberman pays on both
land and crop. These unequal tax con-
ditions were discussed at Saginaw, Michi-
gan, November 13, 1907, when repre-
sentatives were present from Wisconsin,
Michigan, Minnesota, Illinois and Ohio,
as well as the Federal Forest Department,
and the following resolution was unani-
mously adopted:
"It is the sense of the conference that
lands containing forests should be taxed
in the usual manner so far as the land is
concerned, said land to be assessed as if
it contained no lumber; but the forest
products should be assessed and 'taxed
only when they are cut and removed and
then in an appropriate manner."
Relief from taxation to those who will
grow forests and to those who will con-
serve the existing timber areas is absolutely
essential. As it is now the states are left
but little timber on account of the uncer-
tainty of taxation and danger of fire
because there has been no assurance of
reasonable assessments or any adequate
system of fire patrol or of forest care.
We seldom find timber estates handed
down from generation to generation. The
owners prefer to administer on such prop-
erties before they die and reinvest their
money in securities of a character essen-
tially more stable.
Lands are of three general classes:
agricultural, mineral and forestral. For
the requirements of the people all agricul-
tural lands should so far as possible be
food-producers — none should purposel)7- be
allowed to remain idle. Lands which have
been robbed of their fertility should be
speedily restored through fertilization to
their former degree of productivity. On
the same principle of economy all cut-
over forest lands should not be permitted
to remain idle, even though they are not
adapted to agriculture. Their destiny
is to grow trees, and an effort to use them
for any other purpose is an economic
error,
Virgin forests are not producers; they
are like a completely populated country;
individuals die and others succeed them.
It is only when man enters the forest that
it becomes a producer. He cuts away
the adult timber and other trees take their
places; but scientific practical methods
demand the application of intelligence so
that there shall be no unnecessary waste.
One of the first requirements is to
classify the lands of the United States so
as to designate those which are best
adapted to either agriculture or forestry.
Land which will grow sixty bushels of
corn to the acre should never be devoted
to tree-growing; neither will the pine
lands of northern Michigan and other
localities be found profitable for raising
corn. So, when the state demands that the
owners of forest lands shall preserve their
tracts for tree culture, it should first as-
certain whether such land would thus be
utilized to the best possible advantage.
The character of the soil and climate con-
ditions are always the dominant factors
in classifying lands and must be taken
into consideration.
Thousands of ignorant and misguided
American farmers are today eking out
a miserable existence in an endeavor to
cultivate lands which nature intended
solely for tree-growing purposes. To
what extent such conditions prevail it
is impossible to say, but it is certain that
nothing impresses the observant traveler
more than the economic blunders of this
character which he sees in many states.
Lands which have been cut over and
abandoned by the lumbermen have,
through tax titles and other means, come
into the possession of real estate pro-
moters who have in turn sold them to
innocent men who imagined that farming
required no climatic or soil conditions,
no experience, nor the application of any
proven methods. The literature which
has been sent out by some of these land
companies is truly remarkable for its
deceptive and misleading statements.
What a story of hardship and privation
is contained in the records of adventure
into these cut-over lands by innocent but
misguided home-seekers, and, from a
humanitarian point of view, what a neces-
sity exists for the state to classify its
RAPID DISAPPEARANCE OF THE FORESTS
487
unused lands and tell the truth about
them. When this has been done it may
properly be demanded by the state that
the owners of non-agricultural but tree-
growing lands shall either maintain their
tracts for forest purposes or turn them
over to the state to be developed and
conserved at public expense.
The laws of several timber states
operate on the principle that it is for the
best interests of the state to get all lands
into private hands as speedily as possible.
Northern Michigan and Northern Wis-
consin have held at least one-third of their
land on the delinquent roll
for taxes since 1875, and
thousands of dollars have been
spent in trying to get rid of
them. Michigan sold land for
ten cents per acre and at a
clearance sale in 1881 tracts
were disposed of at one dollar
for forty acres. Within five
years the state sold nearly
one million acres at an aver-
age price of about $1.20 per
acre, though it was well known
that these lands were bought
for the remnants of timber
which remained, and were
speedily depleted and again
left to the state for taxes.
Effectual conservation can
be accomplished only by a
sensible and unprejudiced
appreciation of the import-
ant interest of the public
in the work and also a free-
dom from the taunts of the demagogue
and muck-rakers who seek to interfere
with the movement. There must be
a spirit of confidence between the state
and timber men; and to a considerable
extent co-operation by the general gov-
ernment by means of reasonable tariff
protection and by a more friendly atti-
tude toward those engaged in the lumber
industry. Heretofore the whole policy
of the general government and the states
has resulted in creating a waste of the
forests for the purpose of securing a present
lumber supply at the lowest possible
price.
As a factor in cheapening the cost of
lumber the Canadians have been induced
to over-stock, and in consequence have
reduced prices below the possible point
of competition by the lumbermen of the
United States. The Canadian lumberman
has possessed the advantage of large con-
solidated timber limits received from the
government at nominal prices, less ex-
pensive labor on the average and little
or no taxes on timber or the manufactured
product. It has been stated that if a
tariff of four dollars per thousand had
existed, the Canadian lumberman could
have paid it and still had a margin in his
favor. As we now survey the past, we
EFFECT OF FIRE ON YOUNG LONGLEAF PINE
IN ALABAMA
cannot help but observe that the United
States government has, to a considerable
extent in the past, been responsible for
wasting the forests by its policy of dis-
crimination against the timber industry
through unwise land laws and by its low
lumber tariff policy.
By every device of law and adminis-
tration, efforts have been made to secure
a lumber supply at the lowest possible
prices without reference to the future.
The timber lands have been subjected
to private entry and ownership far in
excess of requirements for supply. The
effect has been to over-stock and this
combined with cultivated competition with
the Canadian product has often kept the
488
RAPID DISAPPEARANCE OF THE FORESTS
price but little, if any, above the cost of
production.
One of the greatest obstacles to success-
ful forestry is the fire hazard and in this
the public is equally interested with the
owners of the forest. It is the young
growing timber in the seedling or sapling
stages that is most susceptible to fire
damage and therefore the very portion
of the forest which is most important
to the future is subjected to the greatest
risk. It is seldom that adult forests are
seriously damaged by fires; the so-called
cut-over lands covered with young trees
are more often invaded by the fire fiend.
As a consequence of the bitter experi-
ence of the past in this country and by
the successful experience of European
countries, certain methods are suggested
as a precaution against fires. The first
and most necessary method is to clear
up the debris left after logging operations
have been completed. The tops of trees
which cannot be taken out of the woods
and marketed must be disposed of in
some manner so that the fire hazard may
be minimized. But to do this involves
great expense. In one northern locality
where extensive experiments in this di-
rection have been tried, it was found that
the cost of burning the debris was from
one to two dollars per thousand feet of
the log product, while the lowest cost
under favorable conditions was twenty-
five cents. If such methods of fire pro-
tection be employed this added expense
must be included in the cost of logging
and eventually charged up to the sawed
lumber. There is no other way to meet
.such an expense.
Another necessity is to patrol the forests,
at least during the fire season, and this
is best done by the combined efforts of
the individual owners and the state.
Heretofore the state has been lax and
apparently indifferent; where individual
owners have spent dollars in fire fighting
and patrol the state has scarcely spent
dimes. Even the national government
has done but little in protection of this
character as only one man has been em-
ployed in our forest reserves when a hun-
dred would have been employed for similar
purposes in Germany.
It may sound like high treason to those
who believe in a bedazzled and bespangled
but listless army to suggest that the
soldiers be commissioned as conservation-
ists in the great fight to preserve what is
left of our great forests. It would be the
most useful occupation that our soldiers
could be given. They would be engaged
in constant warfare against the natural
enemies of the forests — and kept con-
stantly alert in their defence. Our navy
sails the seas primarily to protect our
ocean commerce; then why not have the
army police the public preserves properly
and effectually, and in that duty fight off
the natural enemies, fire and disease, as
well as the ruthless hand of the human
destroyer who oftentimes oversteps the
laws of economical preservation? It would
not be so great a departure from precedent
as appears upon first thought. The
federal troops are constantly called upon
to police stricken districts in the country
and to protect life and property. The
government already has its foresters and
crews of helpers, but so helpless are they
in the stress of great calamity that soldiers
have often been called upon to assist in
the -fighting of forest fires. Then why not
take the further step — a garrison of sol-
diers in every forest area — to prevent
destruction either by man or the natural
elements? Train these soldiers in forestry
to be surgeons who can look after the
wounds of the trees and save them from
destruction; who can clean up the refuse
of the fallen and decaying growth and thus
reduce the menace of fire, and scientifically
look after the new growth that struggles
for a beginning. With this new duty
recognized there would be less protest
against a standing army. In fact, the
natural tendency would be to enlarge it
many times in order to properly maintain
the great peace victories of the forests.
Soldiers could be kept drilling for the
stern duties of war, while stationed at
their posts in the forest areas.
The best way to avoid forest fires is
to prevent small incipient blazes growing
into conflagrations. Putting out fires just
started is safer than letting them burn.
Patrol is better than fighting because the
locomotive spark or camp fire can be ex-
tinguished before it becomes a forest fire.
One patrolman can stop a hundred in-
cipient fires cheaper than one hundred
men can stop one ordinary fire,
THE
MUSICAL SEASON
5 IN AMERICA*
t>y Artkur Wilson
QEW York witnessed its second
opera premiere gracefully. Habit
is a mantle easily put on in
Gotham. There sophistication
is speedily acquired, even in the art of
witnessing blandly the first performances
in the world of new operas, and of person-
ally inspecting their composers.
Moreover, a pacific halo enveloped the
preparation and the production of "King's
Children." There are several things to
blame for this. Aside from his "Hansel
and Gretel," that charming tale about a
naughty witch who still holds a spell for
small children and big children, the mild-
mannered, be-spectacled Professor Hump-
erdinck was not a familiar figure in the
repertory of the Metropolitan Opera
House, whereas Mr. Puccini had been
frequently represented by his "Boheme,"
his "Tosca," and more particularly his
"Butterfly."
But let no one think this was all. Fate
conspired to give Mr. Puccini's "The
Girl" a wondrous publicity, and publicity
has a strange, a terrible psychology. Did
the American people know that a gross,
a monstrous insult was being perpetrated
upon them by Mr. Puccini and by his
publishers, the Riccordi's of Milan, who
lend a counseling word as to who shall
sing in the first performances of his operas?
If they did not, then they should be told
with all speed and all unction that out of
eighteen primary, secondary and tertiary
characters to the Nth power of un-
importance in the producing cast of the
said opera, there was but one aloof, alone
and isolated American — whereas there
were ten Italians, two Germans, an Al-
gerian, a Pole, a Frenchman, and a Bo-
hemian. This Bohemian was to be the
Girl. What right had she? None in the
firmament above or the earth beneath, or
the waters under the earth, save the fact
that she was Emmy Destinn, the greatest
mistress today of dramatic song, and that
Mr. Puccini had asked her to create the
role when he heard her as Madam Butter-
fly at Covent Garden, London. On his
way to these hospitable shores, Mr.
Puccini was chided, rebuked and taken
to task. He was reproved for this im-
propriety and flagrant indiscretion, and
he was reminded that there were American
sopranos who might have been chosen
with greater fitness, and these were named
for Mr. Puccini. Mr. Puccini, thus en-
lightened, held his peace, disembarked,
and permitted Miss Destinn to rehearse
and sing the part. Nor did the protesta-
tions in the name of outraged patriotism
cease. The daily papers, being loyal
defenders of the Monroe Doctrine, and
incidentally appreciating a good story,
gave aid in the shape of space and head-
lines to the cause — all of which advertised
the opera, the cast — and the source of
the patriotic protestations.
Thus was interest abetted in "The
Girl of the Golden West." Was it strange
therefore that the fever had so worked
in men's veins that one unfortunate was
locked up merely because he tried to
break through the window of the ticket
office at the Metropolitan Opera House
with his cane, after all the seats for a
performance of the opera had been sold,
and that a brother fanatic was apprehended
in the very act of gaining his entrance
by the fire escape? There is no report of
anybody being arrested in Boston for
trying to go to the opera.
Naturally Professor Humperdinck could
(489)
MME. MARIE GAY
The well-known grand opera singer in a characteristic costume and pose
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
491
not expect so brilliant an opening for his
"King's Children" with no such fanfare
of trumpets. Unfortunately there was
less cause, for it was Geraldine Farrar,
an American girl, who created the role
of the Goose Girl. While it was the most
grateful part she has yet undertaken,
admirable both in its opportunities for
the atmospheric and illusive action in
which Miss Farrar excels, and in the
tessitura of its music for her voice, had
only some foreign candidate from Russia,
Poland or the isles of the sea been nomi-
nated for it, there would doubtless have
been more outcries of the American eagle
and more soarings- of the flag in the name
of art, even though Professor Humper-
dinck laid the scene of his story in the
fanciful town of Hellabrun and the forest
of Hella, and not in the California of '49.
The encouragement of effort by native-
born composers and singers, creators and
interpreters, while laudable, eminently
praiseworthy, and necessary to our musical
advancement, may nevertheless be
strangely confounded with a needlessly
zealous display of what may seem the
expression of patriotism, but which as
sadly lacks the elements of wisdom, as
it does of good taste.
Mr. Humperdinck's opera is not an entirely
new creation. It is expanded from inci-
dental music he wrote for the play of the
same name, "Konigskinder," a German
fairy tale in three acts. It was produced
in Munich, January 23, 1897. The author
of the play, Elsa Bernstein, the wife of
a lawyer of that city, writes under the
pseudonym, Ernst Rosmer. She is the
daughter of Heinrich Porges, formerly a
music critic of some note, and a staunch
advocate of Wagner in the stressful days
when he needed defenders. Indeed, her
name, Elsa, is a memento of this loyalty.
Mr. Humperdinck wrote the music to
the play in 1895-96. Excerpts from it
have been performed in this country at
various times. The introduction to act
two was played at a concert at the Mon-
tauk Theatre, Brooklyn, in November,
1896. The introductions to both acts
two and three were played by the Boston
Symphony Orchestra in Boston, in De-
cember of the same year, Emil Paur,
conductor.
The play was produced in German,
April 29, 1898, in New York, at the Irving
Place Theatre, by Mr. Conned, who was
then its director. It was performed in
English at the Herald. Square Theatre,
New York, November 3, 1902. It was
intended that the opera should be sung
in English when produced by the Metro-
politan Company, and was so announced
last season, but the score was not finished
in time to permit of preparation, nor was
there time this season for completion of
the English version, which had been
already undertaken by Charles Henry
Meltzer, the music critic of the New York
American.
The date of the production of the opera
at the Metropolitan — the first upon any
stage — was Wednesday, December 28.
The dress rehearsal had occurred on
Christmas Sunday morning. The au-
dience of specially invited guests con-
tained names that made the occasion
brilliant. There were present Signor
Puccini, Gustav Mahler, Mme. Sembrich,
Alessandro Bonci, Enrico Caruso, Franz
Kneisel, Victor Herbert, Messrs. Amato,
Scotti and Slezak, Miss Kitty Cheatham,
Otto H. Kahn, Blanche Bates, Mischa
Elman, Chauncey Olcott, G u s t a v e
Schirmer, Lee Schubert and Joseph Weber.
It is said the author of the play intended
it to be deeply symbolical. It has the
physiognomy and familiar features of a
German folk-tale. There is the prince
seeking adventure; there is the maiden
with the halo of mysterious origin, and
she too is ready to fall in love with some
gallant prince. She happens to be called
the Goose Girl. There is the cruel witch,
and there are the wicked peasants who,
of course, never knew until too late that
the Goose Girl is a princess.
The story is at first laid in the forest
of Hella, beside the witch's hut. Here
the son of a king, in search of adventure,
finds the little Goose Girl held a thrall
to the spell of the old witch. At once his
heart goes out' to her, and sne, who has
never seen a handsome prince, loves him
in return. He leaves her angrily because
she, being bound by enchantment, cannot
run away with him.
Then come the fiddler, the wood-chopper
and the broom-maker, who have been
492
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
sent by the good burghers of Hellabrun
to ask the witch who will be a king for
them. She answers that whoever shall
enter their gates on the stroke of twelve,
in the midst of their feasting the following
day shall be the king. Only the fiddler
understands, and he recognizes the royal
lineage of the Goose Girl.
The second act presents the square of
Hellabrun in which the honorable citizens
are assembled at their festival, awaiting
the approach of their king. Among them
is the Prince whom they have made a
swineherd. No one but the little
daughter of the broom-maker perceives
his identity. As the clock strikes twelve,
the gates are opened and reveal the Goose
Girl, standing with her geese about her.
She flies into the arms of the Prince.
Then the people, enraged, drive the pair
from the gates. But one of the throng
has recognized them to be the children of
kings — the broom-maker's little daughter,
who sobs bitterly in the empty square as
she looks longingly after them, a scene of
appealing pathos, and the curtain falls.
. The stinging, the scathing satire of it!
One is reminded of the saying, "And a
little child shall lead them," which was
not written in ridicule, and yet the abiding
rebuke of it to the priggish, bigoted,
shallow-brained pedants of the ages, who
acquired learning, it may be, but who
fell lamentably short of wisdom. These
are they who bowed so low before prec-
edent and ancient custom, that their
eyes could not discern the first timid
flash of the light of genius, perhaps be-
cause it was garbed in the outward ac-
coutrements of a poor swineherd or a
goose girl. These are Wagner's carping
Beckmessers who have been beating
tattoos upon their paltry slates these
years to the annihilation of all who dare
to measure pounds by new scales, or
inches by a new rule or musical speech by
a new syntax.
Beckmesser, that fine fellow, that watch-
dog of the Mastersingers of Nuremberg,
and jailer of the archives of the past, was
doubtless the cause of many a jest in the
Porges household, for a Wagner partisan
would have relished the satire. Perhaps
the daughter also drew some inspiration
from a merry fling that Shakespeare had
in "Midsummer Night's Dream," in
Bottom and his worthy crew, the pro-
togonists of all that excellent breed of
proper souls, who take themselves, their
ills, their art, their merest thoughts as
among the profound, the sober and the
grave achievements of all creation. Pro-
fessor Humperdinck at least knows his
Shakespeare, has written incidental music
to "The Midsummer Nights Dream,"
"As You Like It," "Merchant of Venice,"
and others, and considers Shakespeare
the greatest dramatic writer of all time.
Frau Humperdinck corroborates her
spouse by saying they have both read
all the plays, and in English.
But the king's children are still wander-
ing outside the gates because they wear
not the garb of royalty but of menials.
In the third act, it is no longer spring.
It is winter and snow is on the ground.
This hapless pair have been wandering a
long way. The Prince carries the Goose
Girl in his arms. They are hungry.
Presently they arrive again at the witch's
hut, now inhabited by the woodchopper,
who turns a deaf ear to their petition for
food, until, tempted by the Prince's offer
of his crown, the churl gives them a loaf
of bread, but it is a poisoned loaf, left by
the witch, and when the fiddler and the
broom-maker's little daughter find the
two they are "wrapped in one another's
arms and silent in a last embrace."
When the drama was performed in
London, Professor Humperdinck was con-
siderably perturbed to find that the kind-
hearted Britons could not endure to see
these sweet children brought to such a
bitter end, and urged that by some dra-
matic or miraculous means they be re-
stored to life before the final curtain, so
that those of the audience might depart
and know that hero and heroine were
going to live happily ever after. New
York is not strange to deaths in the last
act, at least no requests for curtailment
have been made public.
In these days when subjects for lyric
drama and melodrama without the erotic
or even the decadent element are not
esteemed feasible, grateful or worthy.
Mr. Humperdinck has peculiar notions
about the stuff that operas are made of.
He has an aversion to portrayal of vicious
494
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
passion or morbid pathology. He finds
the best themes are idealistic. Thus far
there has been a public of good size in
New York that has agreed with him.
Let it be said incidentally that the title
of "Professor" which the composer bears
is not the indiscriminate and miscellaneous
prefix with which any ambitious person
may embellish his title in the United States,
whether he be an acrobat at a country
circus, a traveling "oculist," the leader of
the town band, or the oracle of the village
school. The degree of "professor" is
bestowed by the Kaiser, and Professor
Humperdinck was so honored by Em-
peror William in 1896.
His musical treatment of the story has
been praiseworthy, in so far as the dra-
matic scheme of his text permitted. The
second act obviously is hung upon the
peg of the Goose Girl's arrival, which is
climacteric in interest, and must therefore
conclude the act. All that passes before
is in anticipation and in the nature of a
pageant or spectacle of the congregating
dignitaries of the village.
The last act contains the music which
may be called inspired. The touching
appeal of the weary children is poignantly
told in the orchestra, and the lamentation,
of the minstrel when it is too late is a
page of rare emotional eloquence.
The composer's dramatic scheme in
his orchestra betokens his Wagnerian
lineage and the days of his musical appren-
ticeship as copyist of the "Parsifal" score.
He has employed guiding motifs freely,
and by them has made the orchestra a
constant expositor of the action upon
the stage of its psychological significance,
clever instances of which, as Mr. W. J.
Henderson, the discerning critic of the
New York Sun, has pointed out, are the
inversion of the theme of the Goose Girl
when she leans over the trough under the
pump and seeing her inverted image in
the water, exclaims "How beautiful I
am," and again when, in the second act,
the Goose Girl enters crowned before the
jeering populace, there are heard the
three descending tones which form the
germ of the love theme and are derived
from the motif associated with the Prince.
Miss Geraldine Farrar created the role
of the Goose Girl, and found in it a fitting
subject on which to expend her uncommon
skill and imagination in enveloping a
portraiture with delicate fancy and ex-
quisite illusion.
Hermann Jadlowker was the king's
son, Otto Goritz the Spielmann, and
Louise Homer, the witch; Mr. Didur,
Mr. Reiss; Edna Walter, a clever child
of twelve years; Mr. Pini-Corsi and
Florence Wickham were, respectively, the
woodcutter, the broommaker, the broom-
maker's daughter, the landlord and the
landlord's daughter. Mr. Hertz conducted.
The production was worthy of the Metro-
politan Opera House.
The composer was honored with liberal
applause after each act, with a silver
laurel wreath presented by Mr. Gatti-
Cazassa on behalf of the company, and
was tendered a reception in the foyer of
the theatre after the performance by the
directors of the opera company.
Following this there was a dinner at
Hotel Astor in honor of the composer,
given by the "Bohemians," a society
whose membership includes the represen-
tative musical life of the city. Rubin
Goldmark, president of the society, acted
as toastmaster. Walter Damrosch spoke
for the musicians, and Mr. Krehbiel, of
the Tribune and Mr. Finck of the Post,
spoke for the critics.
Before sailing on the steamer "George
Washington", in time to see the first
European performance of "Kingschildren"
at the Royal Opera, Berlin, Professor
Humperdinck wrote a letter of apprecia-
tion to Director Gatti-Cazassa of the
Metropolitan Opera House, thanking him
for the zeal with which he had prepared
the new work, and the artists and
orchestra for their cooperation. The
composer confessed, while here, to having
no other work near completion except
incidental music to Maeterlinck's allegory,
"The Blue Bird," for use in the repertory
of the Deutsches Theatre in Berlin this
season. He also said he had a string
quartet in mind.
Trades
THE CARPENTER: THE SHIPBUILDER
By Charles Window Hall
ELOATING ice and trees, islets of
matted roots and coarse water-
plants affording temporary ferri-
age or amusement, undoubtedly
suggested the earliest forms of water-craft
— the raft, the swimmer's support of empty
jars and calabashes, of shaggy hides dilated
with branches and leaves, and the inflated
balsa and catamaran of cork-like wood of
Peru; all of which have played no unim-
portant part in the life and industries of
primeval peoples.
Where materials are plentiful and the
necessities of a savage race demand it,
many native craft attain a finish and
utility which civilized man has promptly
recognized, copied or adopted.
The Esquimaux kayak, framed of
patiently fitted fragments of driftwood
and whalebone, and covered with care-
fully cured sealskin, long, narrow, sharp-
ended and so impervious to water that
the skilled hunter will drive her like a
diving cormorant through a wave-crest
and emerge, shaking the brine from hands
and face, is certainly the most remark-
able, small sea-boat in the world. The
Indian canoe needs no extended descrip-
tion or praise in this place. Its imitation
and adoption all over the civilized world,
its immortalization in song, art and litera-
ture, its economical use and value to the
great fur companies and explorers and its
adoption in the shape of the canvas-
covered "black canoe" by the fishermen
of the rockbound, harborless Irish coast,
all vindicate the genius and taste of the
Algonquin artisan who first modeled its
fairy lines and evolved its combined
strength, lightness, buoyancy and adapta-
tions to the needs of Indian life.
A host of hollowed tree-trunks, from
clumsy "horse-troughs" to the huge war-
canoes of the cannibals of the Congo,
the sailor tribes of the Victoria Nyanza
and the South Seas, are probably seen at
their best in the finely modeled, excavated,
steamed and expanded "dug-outs" of
the Northwest Coast. As a rule the small
craft of primitive and savage people
have been lighter, swifter, more elegant
and seaworthy than the batteaux and
boats of civilized contemporaries. Indeed
"the shuparior and civilized man," as
Mulvaney calls him, has been uncommonly
slow to realize that a boat could be light,
well-proportioned, swift and beautiful,
and at the same time strong and sea-
worthy enough for all practical purposes.
When it comes to sailing craft, the palm
for speed must be awarded to the "flying
proa" of the Sulu or Sooloo group, which,
being built with one convex and one nearly
straight side, sharp at both ends and
furnished with an outrigger, have actually
at times sailed twenty miles an hour, a
speed never attained by any yacht of
equal length and sail area.
Many of the more distinctive features
of the most ancient boats and vessels
(495)
496
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
have persistently appeared from genera-
tion to generation until the present day;
or, if temporarily abandoned, have dis-
appeared, only to be revived again by
some noted expert or amateur. The
earliest Egyptian river boats and sea-
going ships show unmistakably the
same short floatage lines, flat floors and
long overhanging bows and sterns which
characterize the "scow" type of yacht
popular today. Indeed it is hard to find
a picture of an ancient ship or galley which
does not suggest a likeness to some modern
type of model or equipment; and demon-
strate that the shipbuilder of thousands
of years ago recognized the conditions of
sea or river service, and intelligently and
often effectively attempted to meet them.
ESQUIMAU KAYAK, IN USE IN GREENLAND IN 1850
The Ark built under the direction of
Noah must have been constructed by
carpenters of some previous experience
and ability; inasmuch as her proportions
(450 feet long, by seventy-five feet wide
and forty-five feet deep) gave her the
largest burthen, fifteen thousand tons,
of any craft on record except the immense
battleships of this especially peaceful age.
Tradition says that the oldest Egyptian
craft were the little canoe-shaped boats
of papyrus rush, lower at the bow than
at the stern and bound together with
threefold braid at every nine inches or
so. Some, if not all, were coated with
pitch or asphalt, while generally a thick
mat raised the passenger above the damp
deck. Very possibly in such a boat the
infant Moses was committed to the Nile.
Many such were used by the common
people during the inundations, and by
sportsmen and fishermen for pushing
through the reed-ronds, killing water-
fowl with the throwing stick and catching
fish with the double-pointed spear, or
even hunting the hippopotamus and
crocodile with lance and harpoon. They
were all the more popular from the belief
that the savage crocodile would not
attack a man who floated in a boat made
of the sacred papyrus reeds.
The river boats were propelled
by long poles, with which the
boatmen often fought each
other, and not infrequently
with fatal results.
But at a remote antiquity
the Egyptians built river craft
of immense burthen; one of
which is recorded as being "a
broad ship of acacia wood,
sixty cubits long and thirty
cubits broad"; i.e., one hun-
dred by fifty feet, which ship,
or rather lighter, was "finished
for the King's service in only
seventeen days." Sails seem to
have been rarely used on the
river craft of this period, the
only example shown being a
square sail, apparently made of
matting.
Sea-going craft had sails,
and the earlier mast, appar-
ently made of the small trees
of the country, was double and in the
shape of an acute wedge with its feet
"stepped" widely apart, rendering shrouds
or side stays unnecessary. A strong fore-
stay and several back-stays braced the
mast against the strain of the huge square
sail, which was for thousands of years to
be the chief and largely the only reliance
of the mariners of the high seas. There
were at first no regular steering appliances,
but one or more oars on either side of the
stern kept the ship on her course. Later
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
497
the steering oar became a broad wooden
blade pivoted on either quarter, and shifted
by a kind of tiller.
The bottom lines of the earlier Egyptian
vessels from stern to stern were almost
the segment of a circle and rarely, indeed,
did the Egyptian shipbuilder so design
his clipper that more than one-half of
the floor of his vessel rested upon the
water in the harbor. The rocker-like
bearings were of great convenience in
navigating the Nile at low water, when,
even with the -greatest care it was often'
necessary to cross or back off
from an unexpected sand bank.
This type of hull was retained
throughout the era of the Mid-
dle Empire, B.C. 2130 to 1930,
with some modifications in sea-
going ships. The mast, how-
ever, probably imported from
Phoenicia, had become a stout
and lofty spar, with shrouds
of several strands besides its
thick forestay and several
backstays. A single rudder like
an immense paddle was pivoted
at the stern, and its long handle
sliding from larboard to star-
board on a smooth "traveller"
supported by two uprights,
was controlled by tackle in the
hands of the helmsman. The
increased length given to these
ships increased the strain upon the keel and
floor timbers, and the danger of ' 'hogging"
or breaking in two was lessened by a great
cable fastened at the stem and stern and
encircling the mast, which was drawn
tense like a violin string over tall pillars
forming a bridge or truss. A number of
outboard "strakes" of timber running
fore and aft strengthened the hull, pro-
tected it when aground, and aided in
lessening drift in side wind, and rolling
in a seaway.
Such a ship is depicted in the pictures
of an expedition despatched by Queen
Ch'nemtamun, or H'atshepsu, about the
Fourteenth Century B.C., one of three
whose thirty rowers and great square
sails carried them over a sea-path, but
the commander in the deserts," having
hitherto thence received treasure and
tribute, brought overland from the kingdom
of Punt, probably in Somali Land on the
east coast of Africa, had sent a single
THE CARVED STERN OP A NEW ZEALAND WAR CANOE
ship down the Red Sea into what we now
know as the Gulf of Aden, and had re-
turned with a wonderful cargo, the crown-
ing commercial glory of the reign of King
Se'anchere. After ten centuries, the
Great Queen sent out another and grander
squadron whose departure and return
are depicted on the walls of her tomb.
Safely arrived, the queen's gifts are pre-
sented "to the great men of the land";
"the ships are laden very high with the
treasures of the Land of Punt and all
beautiful plants of the Divine Land; with
heaps of incense; with great myrrh trees;
with ebony together with pure ivory;
with white gold from the country Amu;
with sweet-scented woods ; with all manner
of incense and eye pigments; with baboons,
once before crossed by an Egyptian keel: monkeys and greyhounds; with skins of
in the days of Henu, a thousand years
before. He, "the chief in the mountains,
the panthers of the South; with slaves
and their children; never has the like
498
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
been brought to any king, whatsoever,
since the beginning of time."
In the light of this great expedition,
the Egyptian shipwright seems to have
come into his own, and the mariners of
Khem to have taken their place as skillful
and fearless shipmen. True the Egyptian
%ship-carpenter was much handicapped
by the lack of proper woods for long spars,
planks and timbers, and it is even said
that he was sometimes obliged to plank
his boats with short pieces, overlapping
each other (clinker-built in modern phrase)
EGYPTIAN GALLEY OF ABOUT 2500 B.C.
except that, sometimes at least, the
boards seem to have been laid up and
down the side instead of forward and aft.
Wooden dowels or treenails, marine glue
and even strong lashings, were used to
eke out the costly metallic fastenings,
which only the government and the
wealthy could afford to use. As he did
not know how to soften his planks by
steaming, or charring, he did not thorough-
ly cure his lumber, sawed his planking
thin, and forced it to the shape of his boat
or vessel with an arrangement of round
poles and twisted ropes, like a "Spanish
windlass."
His tools were an axe and adze, a long
ripping and short cross-cut saw, chisels,
awls and bow-drills, and he finished his
work with a chisel or broad-bladed iron
and pumice stone. He painted the finished
work with a hot mixture of wax, resin
and earthy pigments, which also filled
up minor imperfections and leaks.
But the Egyptian war galley was much
more compactly built than the merchant
vessel, lower in the stem, which was fitted
with a lion's head or other savage and
warlike emblem cast in bronze to act as
a ram, surmounted by an elevated fore-
castle from which archers and javelin-
men rained missiles upon the foe, and a
similar elevation at the stern whereon the
helmsman stood and other archers joined
in the attack. From the crow's-nest on
the mast, slingers despatched their venom-
ous plummets of lead or baked clay; the
great square sail, no longer encumbered
with a lower yard, was clewed up to the
yard above the heads and weapons of the
soldiery and of the rowers who, protected
by high bulwarks, were kept in perfect time
and pressed to the utmost
limits of human endurance
by the fierce threats and
merciless whips of their
overseers. Such war-galleys,
the prototypes of the war-
vessels of the Mediterranean
for twenty -five hundred
years thereafter, to the num-
ber of four hundred sailed
under Sesostris (B. C. 1335)
from Philoteras and other
Red Sea ports and took pos-
session of the sea-coasts of
Arabia Felix and the African havens oppo-
site. Some of these war-galleys were 120
feet long and carried twenty-two oars on
a side, a number not exceeded for some
centuries after the reign of Sesostris.
About 700 B. C. the Phoenicians, who
had become the leading maritime people of
the Mediterranean, doubled the banks
of oars, an innovation which Egypt did
not adopt until a century later. The
Greeks of Corinth launched the first
triremes about the Sixth Century; and
Athens built four-banked galleys about
B. C. 350, and five-banked war-ships
B. C. 325; Alexander is said to have
launched a fleet of seven-banked galleys
on the Euphrates two years later, and the
rage for many-oared ships continued
until a "Dreadnought" with sixteen banks
of oars is said to have headed a Mace-
donian fleet B. C. 200.
Twenty, thirty and even forty banks
of oars are recorded by historians as having
been built during this phase of naval
competition, but while there is some
doubt about the largest monster, there
seems to be historical basis for the state-
ment that Ptolemy Philadelphos of Egypt
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
499
did build a thirty-banked galley between
B.C. 285 and 237.
But these were never practical cruisers
and fighters. The effective Athenian
trireme carried two hundred oarsmen,
twenty-seven rowing on each side in the
two lower banks, and thirty-one in the
upper tiers, one hundred and seventy oars
moving in perfect unison; the other thirty
were held in reserve, or at need pulled
subsidiary oars on the upper deck. Four-
banked galleys needed 266, and the five-
banked Roman and Carthagenian war-
ships of B. C. 256, three hundred oars-
men. But the largest of these warships
had a low freeboard, and Mark Antony's
ten-banked galleys, which at Actium
threshed the sea into foam with five hun-
dred oars and hurled their armored prows
against the oars and sides of Caesar's
vessels, rose only about ten feet above the
water-line, although their lofty quarters
and forecastles made them look like
floating towers. Like most modern steam-
ships they were narrow with a beam of one-
seventh to one-fifth of their length.
Gradually the number of banks was re-
duced, several men pulling on one oar,
until in the Fifth Century the Byzantine
gallies, called "dromonds" or "racers"
had only a single bank of oars, and none
more than two, and by the Seventh Cen-
tury all galleys pulled single rows of long
oars.
Merchant and passenger ships relied
chiefly on sails and were often of consider-
able tonnage. One laden with corn from
Egypt in the Second Century was 180
feet long by fifty feet beam and forty-
three and one-half feet deep.
The ancient shipwright used treenails
chiefly to fasten together timbers and
planking and when he did use metal very
much preferred bronze fastenings. Quite
large galleys were constructed in sections
to be carried from seaports across country
to rivers and large lakes. There was
often no stern-post as we understand the
term and, unless the vessel was to carry
a ram, no stem; the keel forming one long
continuous curve from bow to stern
forming with the ribs the entire skeleton of
the vessel. The oars worked through
leather bags like wristlets, which kept
out the water and were fastened by
leathern thongs to single tholepins. Awn-
ings of heavy canvas, horse-hair or hides,
protected the rowers on the open deck.
The catheads of a war-galley were very
massive, and projected far out from the
bows, so as to crush the enemy's top -sides
if she came hurtling bow to bow, and to
prevent her from crashing through the
oar-line and hurling the oarsmen and
their benches into writhing heaps of
splintered wood and dying men. Below
them the sharp stem was armed with a
bronze beak generally in the form of the
head of a boar, lion, swordfish or other sav-
age creature, above which several sharper,
longer points threatened destruction.
About 200 B.'C. a kind of bowsprit
with a small square sail was introduced,
AMERICAN TWO-MAST FISHING SCHOONER
OF THE YEAR 1856
an aftersail was carried by some merchant-
men on a smaller mast, and even a tri-
angular topsail above the mainsail, but
all were gradually disused by all fighting
craft and a great armada sent against
the Cretans (A. D. 949), comprised no
galley with over one mast, and these,
when possible, were landed before going
into action.
The principal features of the ancient
galley were copied by their fellow-crafts-
men of Northern Europe, but the harsher
winds and wilder seas of the northern
oceans demanded stronger spars and
rigging and greater dependence on the
sail area and its management. The Norse
Vikings still affected a long, narrow hull,
pierced for many oars, low in the waist,
lofty at bow and stern, and built to take
500
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
the ground easily, and be drawn up on
land without great trouble when necessary.
Removable figure-heads, in awe-inspiring
mimicry of the heads of ferocious creatures,
gave to their "Long Serpents," "Dragons,"
"Otters" and other predatory craft a
sinister and terrifying significance. But
with all their likeness to the ancient galley
types they were far more seaworthy,
nimble and manageable under sail, and
to this day their general lines and qualities
are noticeably perpetuated in the small
craft of the North Sea and adjacent waters.
Not only did these "viking" ships raid
every coast of Northern and Western
Europe, but their more enterprising
champions laid under contribution both
European and African countries of the
Mediterranean coasts. From the Pillars
of Hercules to Byzantium and the Asiatic
shores, there was no strand on which the
FRIGATE CUMBERLAND EN FETE AT SPEZZIA, ITALY,
IN 1853, AFTERWARDS DESTROYED BY THE
IRONCLAD MERRIMAC IN 1862
"Ira Normannorum" (the wrath of the
Norsemen) had not at some time made
visitation. Nor were they less enterprising
in legitimate commerce and exploration.
Beyond the barren wedge of the Hyper-
borean North Cape, their hunters of seal
and whale had penetrated in the days of
King Alfred. Pressing into ice-encumbered
seas beyond the Ultima Thule of the
Roman geographer, an errant rover,
tempest-driven, discovered Iceland, and
returning to tyrant -ridden Norway, found
hundreds of brave men and women who
gladly sought over uncharted seas a
country where they could plant anew
the liberty of their ancestors. A little
later their fearless mariners discovered
and settled Greenland, followed the Ameri-
can coast far to southward, into fairer
and ever fairer wildernesses, and dis-
covering, fighting, trading, as they went,
drove their long, narrow sea-serpents over
"the swan's path" forestalling by some five
centuries the great Genoese, who, attaining
the West Indies over summer seas, "gave
to Leon and Castile a new world."
The Veneti (Bretons) of Caesar's time
seem to have relied largely on sail area for
propulsion. The timbers of their oaken
ships were sometimes a foot thick and their
oak planks of corresponding massiveness,
well-fastened with iron and leaden nails
and clamps, and wooden treenails, with
sails of leather and chain cables of iron;
but their English neighbors of
the same era seem to have had
nothing more seaworthy than
skin-covered coracles and
canoes.
Alfred the Great, in A. D.
897, defeated the Danish invad-
ers with his new English ships.
"They were," says the Saxon
Chronicles, "full twice as long
as the others: some had sixty
oars, and some had more; they
were swifter and steadier and
also higher than the others;
they were shaped neither like
the Frisian nor the Danish, but
as it seemed to him they would
be most efficient."
King Edgar, A. D. 959, is said
to have maintained thirty-six
hundred vessels for coast de-
fence, forming three fleets of twelve hun-
dred sail each. These vessels constituted a
marine militia, which mustered for service
when needed, and returned to more peace-
ful avocations when the danger was over.
Even William the Conqueror, although
one of the greatest kings of his age, seems
to have added nothing to the effectiveness
of the sailing ship of his time, and his
successors for several reigns did little
except to build a little larger, like Henry I,
whose handsome fifty-oared galley, "La
Blanche Nef" foundered off Normandy
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
501
with her crew and 311 passengers, includ-
ing Prince William the heir apparent
and his splendid suite.
King Richard Coeur de Lion sailed
from Dartmouth for the Holy Land,
A. D. 1190, with 110 vessels which eventu-
ally were increased to 230 sail. Ten of
these were "buccas" or three-masted sailing
ships carrying thirty sailors, eighty knights
with their chargers, eighty men-at-arms
or archers, twenty-eight servants, and
wine, food and other supplies for a year
THE FLYING PROAS OF THE LADRONE ISLANDS
on each of the three largest, and ten other
transports carried half as many men each
with horses and supplies. These sailing
vessels were convoyed by fifty triple-
banked war-galleys, which besides mariners
were each manned by 104 oarsmen and
sixty soldiers. Off Beirut, on the Syrian
coast, these attacked a Saracen "dromond"
so strong and lofty that the English could
not board, and so valiant were the fifteen
hundred Saracens who defended her, that
she seemed likely to escape that great
company. Finally, a number of galleys
charged her at full speed, tore great holes
in her lofty side, and keeling her over with
their tremendous impact, sent her to the
bottom with all but some twoscore of
her immense company.
Venice, then the first maritime power of
the world, furnished many transports
and galleys to the Christian powers during
the Crusades. Her great naval arsenal
and dockyards were the wonder of the
world and steadily increased their forces
and resources until they employed sixteen
thousand artificers, and in the war with
the Turks in the Sixteenth Century are
said to have sent out a completly finished
and equipped galley every day for one
hundred days. The republic of Genoa
also attained great wealth and prestige
through ship-building and commerce.
In 1217, Sir Hubert de Burgh, Governor
of Dover Castle and commander of the
Cinque Ports, whose duty it was to defend
the Channel coastline, sailed out with
sixteen large, and twenty-four
smaller craft to meet a French
monk, named Eustace, who,
although in holy orders, had
crossed the channel with eigh-
ty large vessels and a multi-
tude of smaller craft to invade
England. De Burgh maneu-
vered until he got in the rear
and to windward of the French
fleet, whose crews he blinded
with volleys of arrows, headed
with vials of powdered quick-
lime. Boarding parties then
slashed the stays and halyards,
bringing down the yards and
sails on the blinded men-at-
arms, who were cut down until
only sixteen sail escaped.
In the Fourteenth Century the rudder,
as now made, was first generally intro-
duced, but cannon were rarely used on
shipboard until after the great sea-fight
off Sluys, in Flanders, in which King
Edward III with two hundred ships
defeated the French and Genoese with
190 ships and a host of smaller vessels,
with a loss to the English of some five
thousand men, and of twenty-five thou-
sand to the allies.
When the Venetians first used cannon
at sea, they mounted them in a sort of
fort in the bows of a galley, and when
they began to mount them in broadside,
they feared to strain their ships, and
therefore built the top-sides only about
one-half as wide as the beam at the water-
line. Even with these precautions, a
large ship was usually pierced for a few
guns only, depending chiefly on volleys
of archery and musketry at short range,
and boarding as soon as possible. Even
after the introduction of artillery, a few
502
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
galleys carried the medieval machines for
discharging great stones and darts, and
the Byzantine ships trusted greatly to that
mysterious "Greek fire" which some think
was discharged from tubes by the use of
a weak gunpowder, but was probably
something like the Chinese "stink-pots"
— very suffocating and hard to extinguish.
The Mediterranean nations were the
first to combine lateen or fore-and:aft
sails with the great square sails so long
in general use. The Santa Maria, the
flagship of Columbus, used a lateen sail
MISSIONARY BRIGANTINE, MORNING STAR
on her mizzen, and a sprit-sail on her bow-
sprit, a feature retained in ships of the
Nineteenth Century. These innovations
were early adopted by the English kings
whose French wars demanded the trans-
portation of immense numbers of men and
quantities of supplies. The "Henry Grace
a Dieu" popularly called "The Great
Harry," of fifteen hundred tons, built
about 1514 for Henry VIII, combined
these features in her build and rigging.
A Genoese "carrack," armed merchant
ship, built in 1542, stepped her bowsprit
like a fourth mast, raking forward, and
carrying two sails. A "galleas" of the
Spanish Armada shows how the need of
a motive power, independent of the
capricious wind, induced her designers
to use oars to propel a clumsy hull. The
Venetian galleas, six of which aided greatly
in destroying the Turkish fleet at Lepanto,
was better designed.
The four-masted ship, "The Sovereign
of the Seas" built for Charles I, was of
1,685 tons burthen /carried over one hun-
dred guns, and after being cut down in
Cromwell's reign to a two-decker saw
long, active service which covered in all
a period of sixty years.
In the Eighteenth Century, great prog-
ress was made in ship-building. The
practice of burning the inside of a plank
and wetting the outside to bend it into
place, was in 1719 supplanted by steam-
ing, or heating it in a bath of hot, wet
sand, and this in turn was abandoned for
steaming in 1736.
During this period and late into the
Nineteenth Century, large sloops with a
single mast, often over one hundred feet
in height and carrying both fore-and-aft
and square sails, took a prominent part
in the commerce, wars and piracy of
American seas. They were often built
with lofty sterns and high bulwarks and
carried a dozen small cannon and as many
swivels, which could be quickly shifted
to any part of the vessel. Besides these
there were schooners, which were first
built it is said at Gloucester, Massa-
chusetts, and were strictly fore-and-aft
rigged, or fitted with square topsails.
The "pinkey" schooner with a sharp
and lofty stern, like an ancient galley;
the "snow," a vessel with square sails
on main and foremast and a lateen sail
at the mizzen; a "ketch" whose single
mast stepped about the middle of her
length, leaving ample deck-room for a
big mortar, a favorite addition to an
attacking fleet in the last two centuries,
and the "lugger," whose great, nearly
square lug-sails were common enough in
the narrow seas and especially along the
French and Spanish coast, were common
types in the Eighteenth Century.
In the Mediterranean, the lateen sails
have long held their own on the "felucca"
with her lofty wing-like sails and stumpy
masts, the Speronare or Sicilian fisher-
man, the "xebec," favorite of the Algerian
corsairs, whose square-rigged foremast
and several jibs were followed by the
great lateen sails of the main and mizzen.
In all small craft, and especially those
devoted to privateering and piracy, the
oar-line of the ancient galley was imitated
by the use of "sweeps" or great oars to
be used in chase or flight.
In America the ship-carpenter and
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
503
builder soon became a prominent pro-
ducer of material wealth, for to the de-
mands of an ever-increasing immigration
was added the rapid growth of the trade
in masts and spars, ship-timber, naval
stores, peltries and other commodities.
A great many craft of various sizes and
classes were built in the first century
of Massachusetts colonization, and of
these many were sold in England to swell
the commerce of the future " Sovereign
of the Seas." In the Eighteenth Century
this business had greatly increased, and
the American builder and rigger profited
much by French innovations, which made
the ships of that nation much handsomer
and swifter than the old British and
Dutch types, to which English builders
still largely adhered. Truth to tell, the
slave trade, privateering and something
very like piracy put a premium on the
rakish, low-lying and weatherly schooners,
brigantines, and barks turned out in the
Baltimore and New York shipyards, and
indeed at many other points along the
North American coast. During
those days, and late into the
first quarter of the last cent-
ury, nearly every vessel "of the
long voyage" was an armed
ship. The Mediterranean and
Caribbean seas, the waters of
China and Malaysia, the Pata-
gonian and Northwest coasts,
and most of the Pacific archi-
pelagoes, were even in time of
peace no place for a valuable
ship and cargo, unless she had
a belt of painted ports, with
their full complement of iron
ship-guns, arm-racks of pikes and muskets,
and arm-chests of cutlasses and pistols and
ammunition belts, bags and powderhorns.
In war-time, and that meant up to
1830 most of the time, neither neutral
nor enemy's ship was safe, no matter how
peaceful her errand. As a result, most of
the better class of merchant vessels were
built with bulwarks at least musketry-
proof, and with ports and fittings for an
armament if needed. At an early date,
American enterprise led many captains
to carry one or more guns of greater
calibre and length than were usually
mounted t on ships of moderate tonnage.
The American cannon-founders favored
lengthening and increasing the metal of
a piece, so that a "long nine," like an
American ducking gun, would pitch its
carefully "patched" ball with a force and
precision most annoying to an opponent
whose "short sixes" and clumsy wide-
mouthed carronades, could not damage
the deliberate "Yankee" who, keeping
the weather gage, and choosing his distance,
either escaped, or pounded his helpless
opponent into submission. The "Long
Tom" so famous in the records of American
sea-fights, was in its way a recognition
of principles which are carried to their
full extent by the great gun-makers of
today.
During the war of 1812 the privateers
were nearly always furnished with at
least one pivot gun of this type, and often
of superior force to any carried by the
UNITED STATES SHIP PENNSYLVANIA, YEAR 1856
average British cruiser, and some are said
to have carried rifled guns firing balls of
great smoothness and "patched" with
greased leather or rawhide. Sweeps, or
long oars, swivels, boat-guns, blunder-
busses and other ancient contrivances
were still carried to a considerable extent,
and the boarding pike, war-axe, and ship's
pistols were a part of every armament
until the Civil War. The construction
of the "Constitution" frigate and her heavy
armament, and the terrible accuracy of
her gunners, initiated the building of a
class of war vessels midway in size and
armament between the old-style frigate
504
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
and the ponderous and generally slow-
sailing three-decker. Later on, the build-
ing of the celebrated "Merrimac" at Boston
in the fifties brought into the arena of
maritime • conflict a swift and powerful
type of steam-frigate, which she herself
was to discredit when, cut down and
armor-clad, she destroyed the
"Congress" and "Cumber-
land" in that ever-memorable
sea-fight, when the little
"Monitor" alone stood be-
tween the Union fleet and
destruction in 1862.
About the middle of the
Nineteenth Century the de-
signers and builders of Ameri-
can ships had attained the
first place in the world's com-
petition in naval architecture.
Their equipment was equally
superior, and patent wind-
lasses, capstans, pumps, steer-
ing gear, and tackle -blocks,
with cotton duck for sails
instead of heavy, baggy, hempen canvas,
manilia hemp, cotton rawhide and wire
cordage and rigging, lessened weight and
labor and gave the American mariner a
pride in his calling and country which was
reflected in the rapid increase of American
trade abroad and the prosperity of the
and later employed their own relatives
and neighbors in like service under them;
often taking great pains to make them
accomplished mariners, and to help them
prepare themselves for future promotion
and eventual command. Such men, re-
specting and respected, who obeyed with-
AMERICAN CLIPPER SHIP, ALL SAILS SET j
American seaboard population at home.
The ability of the average American
captain as a mariner was usually supple-
mented by equal enterprise and efficiency
as a seller and buyer in foreign ports,
and an exploiter of new sources of freight-
age and exportation. Many of these men
began as cabin-boys or before the mast,
COLLINS LINE STEAMER BALTIC, YEAR 1856
out hesitation and yet were not degraded
nor abused, were the real strength of that
splendid sea-power which American states-
men have neglected and allowed to decay.
The record of the "Nightingale, "built at
Portsmouth, New Hampshire, in 1851,
of 336 miles run in twenty-four hours;
of Donald McKay's "Flying Cloud," which
logged 437 miles in one day's sailing be-
tween New York and San Francisco; and
of Glidden & Williams' Boston clipper
"Sovereign of the Seas," which made over
450 miles in twenty-five hours' voyaging,
are still unbroken, and regretfully re-
membered by those who, like the writer,
recall that "age of gold" of American sea-
power, naval architecture and seamanship.
Grandest of all American ships, Donald
McKay's majestic "Great Republic," was of
3,400 tons burthen, 305 feet long, 53 feet
beam, and thirty feet in depth from keelson
to hatch. She was the first vessel ever
known to carry double topsails, and with-
out her staysails, spread 4,500 square
yards of canvas. Chartered by the French
government as a transport in the Crimean
War, she often had to clew up her topsails
to wait for the fast steam frigates that
convoyed her.
The use of steam and iron ship-building
THE NOBILITY OP THE TRADES
505
have to a great extent taken away his
ancient prominence from the shipwright,
but there is little doubt that in the near
future the construction of wooden hulls
will again become an important industry.
Iron wastes away rapidly when exposed
to salt water, and wood of the best qualities
lasts the longer for the preservative
minerals which it must perforce absorb.
Wooden vessels more than once have
seen active service for over a century,
and the cost of sail propulsion must ere-
long be infinitely cheaper than that of
steam; while the world-wide increase of
iron and steel construction, and of coal
consumption, warn us that the time is
not far distant when the cost of rapid steam
transit will be too great to be borne. The
boundless forests of hard and almost in-
destructible woods still unexploited in
the tropics will eventually be drawn upon
to furnish great fleets of white-winged
ships and small craft which will carry
heavy and staple freights, and in other and
minor capacities help to gather the peren-
nial harvests of the all-encircling seas.
The construction of metallic ships
necessitates very great preliminary ex-
penditure, before a single keel can be
laid, or thin steel bottom-plate shaped
ready for riveting, and when the immense
fabric is completed lib one can say how
soon the oxidization of its plates may
necessitate costly reconstruction. The
ship-carpenter with a few blacksmiths
and a sawmill, to prepare his fastenings
and lumber, can build a ship anywhere
that there are forests to fell, solid ground
to lay a keel, and deep water to launch
and float his finished vessel.
Further the full development of the
oil-vapor auxiliary engine will eventually
make it possible for the sailing ship to
propel itself in calms and against adverse
winds, while with fair winds the average
speed and economical cost of progress
will be in f avor ^of the sailing ship and
against the tramp freighter.
In the United States the value of lumber
for other purposes will limit ship -building
with native woods to a very few localities,
but the importation of the immensely
enduring hardwoods of the West Indies
and South America will in the near future
open up a new era for the now neglected
shipwright. As it is, the amendment
of certain tariffs and antiquated "Shipping
Laws" would give new life to an industry
whose importance to civilization, liberty
and peaceful intercourse between the
nations may be forgotten, but can never
be over-estimated.
FELUCCAS AND SHIPS OFF THE LINE ISLAND OF MAJORCA
YEAR 1855
PHJ
Htncoln Centennial
FEBRUARY 12, 1909
1VAEEKLY we did him reverence through the years;
*** Silent our prayers — our tributes in our hearts.
Today — today
His name is on the universal tongue.
The bells have rung;
The starry flags are streaming in the wind,
And murmur of his fame runs through the mart;
A splendid monument the nation rears
Unto his clay —
But to his soul how blind!
The world-wide heart is darkened to the world.
Let the flags be furled—
Take down the opposing colors from the skies,
And let us wake no more the hollow bell,
And let us purge our eyes.
Tributes of praise can bring him no more joy,
For he is far beyond the mortal voice:
He must rejoice,
If ever, in a work done well.
He knows the world but as a memory
That seems to him as to the mariner
Asleep in some dark forest of the sea,
Who cannot hear
The rush of passing keels, nor hear ahoy
From comrade lips.
He wrought his will
Upon a savage world,
He shook to earth a thousand cruel kings,
Jarred Privilege from its hoary fastenings,
And freed the slave of shackles and of whips
Forgive him, then, the sword.
Let the flags be furled,
And let the cannon cease,
And let the loud-toned bell be still, —
We cannot break his peace!
—From "A Golden Fancy."
jftrsrt &tb to tfje Snjureb
By H. H. HARTUNG, M. D.
BOSTON. MASS.
Major Surgeon, Medical Department, Coast Artillery Corps, M.V. M.; Fellow of the Massachusetts Medical
Society, American Medical Association, Association of Military Surgeons of the United States;
Instructor in First Aid to the Injured to the Boston Police Department, Metro-
politan Park Police and the Fall River Police Department
PART V
OHOCK and unconscious conditions. A
*^ shock is a condition of profound de-
pression of the nervous system, or of ner-
vous collapse, which should in no way be
confused with a shock of apoplexy, which
is a totally different condition and will be
referred to later in this section. Nervous
shock is very common, associated with all
kind of injuries, grief and fright. In a
way it is practically the same kind of shock
as that following a severe surgical oper-
ation, only in that case it is known as
surgical shock. It may complicate the
slightest injury, such as a pin-prick
or pin-scratch; the sight of blood is suffic-
ient in some susceptible persons to cause
nervous shock. It is always associated
with severe injuries, such as those follow-
ing railroad and machinery accidents, se-
vere burns, severe hemorrhage, and gun-
shot wounds. The symptoms of shock
may be very mild in some cases, scarcely
noticeable, of short duration and require
no treatment. However, in severe cases
the symptoms may be very alarming and
demand most vigorous and prompt treat-
ment.
The symptoms of shock are as a rule
as follows: face pale, pinched and has an
anxious, frightened appearance. Patient
feels weak and faint, may complain of
feeling cold and chilly. The skin is cold
and clammy and covered with cold perspir-
ation, particularly the forehead and hands.
There may be nausea and vomiting, also
frequent y awnings. The pulse is rapid,
weak and irregular, or may be entirely
absent, so that the person is pulseless.
The breathing may be sighing, superficial
in character and at times hardly notice-
able. The person may be partially un-
conscious or entirely so. This condition
closely resembles death, and is one which
usually causes the inexperienced bystander
or one anxious to render help and assistance
to become frightened and lose his presence
of mind.
The first aid treatment consists, as in
all severe injuries, of sending for the near-
est available physician and notifying him
of the nature of the accident. In the
meantime the injured party should be
placed in a horizontal position, with the
head slightly raised by a pillow, blanket
or overcoat rolled up and placed under the
•head. All tight and restricting clothing
about the neck and waist should be un-
loosened, so as to not interfere with breath-
ing or the circulation. The body should
be kept warm by means of hot applica-
tions, placed alongside of the body and
the upper and lower extremities. Of
course, when they are available the best
thing to use is hot water bottles, but in
first aid work it is frequently necessary
to use anything that comes handy, so
that anything that will retain heat may
be used, such as irons, bricks or plates
heated on the stove, or glass bottles may
be filled with hot water. Always remem-
ber, however, in making hot applications
of any kind to an unconscious person, to
see that the article is wrapped in a towel
or cloth; first, because an unconscious
person is unable to feel the heat and if
the • application was too hot, it would
result in giving the person a bad burn for
which they would not be grateful, and
second, because wrapping the applica-
tion helps to retain the heat longer. The
upper and lower extremities should be
rubbed either with the hands or warm
towels, which will help to restore the cir-
culation. Always remember to rub to-
ward the heart, in order to start the blood
circulating to the heart.
(507)
508
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
Of course, in all cases of shock caused
from bleeding, this condition should be
treated as already suggested in Part I.
If the person is totally unconscious,
smelling salts may be held to the nose, or
a few drops of aromatic spirits of ammonia
may be dropped on a handkerchief and
held before the nostrils. If strong house-
hold ammonia is used only a few drops
are necessary, dropped on a handkerchief
and held a few inches away from the
nostrils. Do not saturate a handkerchief
with strong household ammonia, and do
not press it close to the nostrils, as it is
very pungent and powerful, and would
burn the skin and mucous membrane of
the nose. If the person is able to swallow,
hot and stimulating drinks may be given,
such as hot tea and coffee or hot milk
with whiskey or brandy mixed with it, but
where you are positive that the uncon-
sciousness is due to apoplexy, fracture of
the skull or any injury to the brain itself,
do not under any circumstance give
alcoholic stimulants, for the reason that
alcohol stimulates the heart beats and
would simply force more blood into an
already congested brain, and would be
more liable to do harm than good. A very
good remedy to use, when the patient is
able to swallow, is ten or fifteen drops of
aromatic spirits of ammonia, in a wine-
glassful of hot water and repeat in fifteen
minutes if necessary. This is a powerful
restorative and perfectly harmless.
Unconsciousness in general. Uncon-
sciousness is, a condition of insensibility,
resulting from various causes, such as
fainting, apoplexy, intoxication, convul-
sions, epilepsy, poisoning from different
drugs, drowning, suffocation, fractured
skull, concussion and compression of the
brain, sunstroke and many other con-
ditions. The symptoms of these various
conditions of unconsciousness vary widely,
as does their treatment, and ignorance of
these facts sometimes causes fatal mis-
takes to be made, as for example, mis-
taking a case of apoplexy or fracture of
the skull for a case of intoxication. Such
an instance is one for which the police are
frequently criticized and blamed, such as
in overlooking a case of apoplexy or
fractured skull and placing a person in a
cell over night supposing it to be a simple
case of intoxication and finding the person
dead the next morning, and an autopsy
revealing the fact that death resulted
from a fractured skull or apoplexy. In
all cases of serious injury with resulting
unconsciousness, always endeavor to get
some history of how the accident happened,
whether the person fell from a building
and struck on the head, with the possibility
of a fractured skull, or whether the person
was walking along the street and suddenly
fell to the ground, with the possibility of
its being a case of apoplexy. All of these
facts are of value in forming an opinion
as to what the person may be suffering
from, and such facts are of the greatest
assistance to the physician in making his
diagnosis. It is always well in such cases
to keep the curious crowd away from the
injured person, as a crowd around an in-
jured person always prevents them from
getting plenty of fresh air, which they need
badly, or preferably get the patient into
a well-ventilated room, where the crowd
can be kept out and where first aid treat-
ment can be better applied.
Fainting is a loss of consciousness due
to the diminution of blood supply to the
brain. It occurs most frequently in weak,
sensitive women, but may also occur to men
as well. It usually occurs in crowds, or
in crowded halls, theatres and churches,
where the atmosphere is close and the air
foul. Fainting usually lasts only a few
minutes and the person recovers immedi-
ately when taken out into the fresh air;
however, there are cases where it lasts
much longer, sometimes for an hour or
more. The first aid treatment of fainting
is usually very simple. Take the person
out into the fresh air, lay them flat on
their back, with the head lower than the
feet. This can be done by grasping the
feet and holding the body so that the head
hangs down, or take an ordinary straight
back chair, turn it over so that the back
forms an angle with the floor and place
the person on the back of the chair, with
the head hanging down. This position
with the head hanging down favors the
flow of the blood back to the brain. All
tight clothing about the neck and waist
should be unloosened. Smelling salts
or aromatic spirits of ammonia applied
to the nostrils, cold water sprinkled on the
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
509
face, chest and hands, helps to bring the
person to.
Apoplexy is a sudden loss of conscious-
ness, due to the bursting of a blood vessel
in the brain, forming a clot of blood, which
pressing on the centers in the brain causes
unconsciousness and paralysis. This is
known as a shock of apoplexy, or apoplectic
stroke. It usually occurs in people over
fifty years of age, who are full blooded and
stout, and more in men than in women.
One of the reasons for this is that as we
grow old the blood vessels lose their
elasticity and the salts of the blood be-
come deposited in the walls of the blood
vessels, making them hard and brittle,
so that they feel like pipestems. As a
rule apoplexy occurs very suddenly, as a
result of severe heat or extraordinary
exertion of some kind, although it may
occur without any external cause what-
ever. The person suddenly falls to the
ground and as a rule becomes immediately
unconscious, although sometimes uncon-
sciousness does not come on for hours.
The face is usually flushed and very red,
the pupils of the eyes may be both widely
dilated or one dilated and the other con-
tracted. The breathing is slow, some-
times irregular and snoring in character,
and the cheek on the paralyzed side puffs
out with each respiration, fconvulsions
sometimes occur, but as a rule not for a
number of hours after the attack of apo-
plexy. There is usually paralysis of one
half of the body, including one eye, one
cheek, sometimes the speech and swallow-
ing, one. arm and one leg. The paralysis
is always on the opposite side from where
the clot is located in the .brain. If the
clot is on the right side of the brain the
left side of the body will be paralyzed.
The existence of paralysis on one side of
the body can be determined by taking
hold of a leg and an arm and holding it
up. The extremities that are paralyzed
will be cold and lifeless, and if allowed to
drop will fall like a dead weight, whereas
the other side, which is normal, will be
warm and when allowed to fall will fall
slowly and gradually on account of the
muscular resistance. First Aid Treatment.
First send for a physician or an ambulance
at once, and in the meantime, treat the
case as you would one of nervous shock,
lay the person out in a horizontal position,
unloosen all tight clothing about the neck
and waist and raise the head slightly.
Do not under any circumstances give
alcoholic stimulants, as this will stimulate
the heart to force more blood into the brain
and make a larger clot. Cold applica-
tions may be made to the head by means
of towels wrung out in ice cold water or
by ice bags applied to the head.
Epilepsy or epileptic convulsions is a
condition of general convulsions of all
the muscles of the body, due to an irri-
tated or diseased condition of some portion
of the brain and is often known as falling
sickness. It frequently is the result of
a fractured skull 9r some blow to the head
and is often hereditary. It occurs sud-
denly at any time, night or day; some-
times the patient has a warning that it is
coming on and sometimes there is no
knowledge of its occurrence. Symptoms:
the patient frequently utters a peculiar
cry before falling, immediately becomes
unconscious and then commences the
typical convulsions, first of one portion
of the body, say the ringers and the face
and then a general convulsion of all the
muscles of the body. The face becomes
pale, the eyes roll from side to side and
upwards and there is usually frothing from
the mouth. About the only immediate
danger, is that during the convulsive
moments of the jaws, the tongue is apt to
be bitten and then the froth is stained
with blood. Sometimes the tongue is
so badly bitten, that it is almost bitten off.
Such attacks usually last from a few
minutes to a half hour, and are frequently
followed by others in succession. Some-
times there may be as many as fifteen or
twenty in one day, and then again there
may be an interval of weeks or months
between the attacks. First Aid Treat-
ment consists in leaving the patient very
much alone. There is no known treat-
ment which will in any way shorten the
attack. If possible . place the person on
a mattress or in the middle of the floor,
so that he cannot injure his head or ex-
tremities by striking anything hard; if
possible place a handkerchief or gag be-
tween the jaws, so that the tongue will not
be bitten, and leave the rest to nature.
Following the convulsion the patient is
510
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
usually drowsy and sleeps for several
hours.
Concussion of the brain, or stunning, is
a condition of unconsciousness following
a severe blow to the head, where the brain
has been badly jarred or shaken up or
where the membranes of the brain have
been lacerated. There may or may not
be total unconsciousness, and if there is
total unconsciousness, they can usually
be aroused, answer a few questions and
then return to their unconscious con-
dition. The First Aid Treatment con-
sists in keeping the patient absolutely
quiet, in a darkened, well-ventilated room,
with the head slightly elevated, and heat
applied to the extremities and the body
the same as in nervous shock. -The head
should be kept cool by cold compresses
or ice bags. In concussion of the brain
never give alcoholic stimulants for the
same reason as already mentioned under
nervous shock.
Compression of the brain is a condition
of unconsciousness depending upon some
pressure on the brain itself, either where
the skull has been fractured and the de-
pressed bone is pressing upon the brain,
or from a clot of blood or from a brain
tumor. The patient is always profoundly
unconscious and it is impossible to arouse
him. Breathing is deep and snoring, with
peculiar puffing of the cheeks, and there
is liable to be more or less paralysis on one
side of the body, the same as in apoplexy.
The pupils of the eyes are usually dilated,
the skin is usually hot rather than cold,
the pulse is slow and inclined to be irregu-
lar. In compression of the brain result-
ing from fracture at the base of the brain,
there is liable to be oozing of blood from
the ears. The first aid treatment consists
in getting the person to a hospital as
quickly as possible, as this condition is a
serious one and frequently terminates
fatally, and in order to save the person's
life it requires surgical treatment as soon
as possible. In the interval, while await-
ing the arrival of the surgeon or ambulance,
place person in a horizontal position, un-
loosen all tight clothing and make cold
applications to the head. Under no cir-
cumstances should any alcoholic stimulants
be given.
Sunstroke or heat stroke, is a condition
of unconsciousness resulting from ex-
posure to extreme heat, usually from the
sun but frequently happens to those who
work in very hot armospheres, such as
foundrymen and stokers. Those who are
in a physically rundown condition, the
stout and drinking people are more liable
to sunstroke than others. The symptoms
may come on gradually, with preliminary
symptoms, such as headaches and dizzi-
ness, or the person may be overcome sud-
denly without a moment's notice. The
skin becomes very dry and hot, the breath-
ing is deep and noisy, there may be con-
• vulsions. The pulse beats rapidly and
violently. The temperature of the body
rises rapidly, sometimes as high as 112
degrees or more, the average being from
105 to 110. (Normal temperature of the
body is 98.2 degrees). Persons who have
once suffered from sunstroke are always
more liable to suffer from high temperatures
afterwards, and should take care of them-
selves in the future to avoid excessive
heat. The first aid treatment, as well as
any other treatment, consists in reducing
the high temperature. Place the person
in a cool, shady spot and remove all the
clothing, then make cold applications to
the body, always making sure that the
cold is first applied to the head and kept
there all the time. The hospital treatment
consists in putting the patient in a bath
tub of tepid water and gradually reducing
the temperature of the water by means
of ice. Care, of course, should be taken
that the bodily temperature is not re-
duced too rapidly or too much, as this
is liable to result in collapse and death.
Under such treatment the temperature is
reduced and the person returns to con-
sciousness. They should then be put to
bed in a quiet, darkened room and watched
carefully for several days. If the bodily
temperature again rises they should be
again sub j ected to the ice bath . Never give
alcoholic stimulants.
( Continued next month )
THE PASSING OF FATHER
ONLY those hearts that know unfailing
paternal love and have been imbued
with the sweetness of filial devotion
realize what it is to say "Good-bye" to
Father. The ebb and flood of the tides
of love reach back to the time of the tiny
boy clinging to
the strong hand
of father, who to
him represented
all the strength
and might of the
world. Every in-
cident of those
sweet days of
childhood comes
back when the
child grown to
manhood feels
again the boy's
tender sorrow
while standing at
the bedside
watching and
waiting for the
end.
In all the little
strifes and trou-
ble of childhood,
there was never
such a consola-
tion as a kind
and gentle look
from father — this
father who never
struck his chil-
dren, who never
spoke an angry
word to awaken
rebellion in the
hearts of his boys
— a father whose
tenderness and
demotion to the
wife — mother of
his boys — inspired a lesson of chivalry and
manhood never to be forgotten; who recited
for them the stirring events of his early
manhood, the struggles of the immigrant
lad striving to make a home under the
Stars and Stripes and the perils and suffer-
ings of the soldier on the battlefield.
3u
of TOliam
1835—1910
His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him
That Nature might stand up and say to all the world
"This was a man!"
From these stories told at bed-time, the
dreams of life and ideals of the future
were formed.
What sacrifices this father made in
giving his boys an education of which he
was deprived. They never realized until
his calloused,
withered hands
were folded for
his long, last
sleep, what they
had done for his
family. Every-
thing that father
and mother said
came afresh to
the minds of
the children in
the sunset days
of the parents,
and the heart of
son or daughter
wells up with a
desire to return
in some measure
the unselfish pa-
rental devotion
bestowed upon
them in helpless
childhood. To
meet father com-
ing home after
the day's work
and hear his
cheery whistle
and familiar
walk, was a cher-
ished privilege.
Those nights
when the books
were brought
home from
school, and father
helped with the
lessons, playfully
putting himself in the background that his
boys might be encouraged and forge to the
front. Devoted to his comrades in the
Civil War, he inspired lessons of patriotism
and a deep love of-the old flag that never
faded or grew old. What a neighbor was
father! Always ready to help; WPS there
(511)
512
THE PASSING OF FATHER
sickness, to lend a helping hand, no matter
what inconvenience was caused him!
Lovable and gentle as a woman, strong
and self-reliant, what more noble qualities
could man possess?
Even in the twilight of life, when
gathered with his comrades, he never tired
of telling that his greatest joy and pride in
life was not in the medals ha wore for
bravery on the battlefield, but in his home,
his wife and his boys. In his pocket-
book, carried for years, were little clippings
that revealed the great surging love of
his heart — the poems carefully raved ex-
pressing sweet sentiment and noble ideals,
the little notices about his boys put away
and treasured as if more priceless than
gems. The flood-tide of father's affec-
tion never seemed so encompassing as
when the last words were said and the
last good-bye spoken, as if going for a
time on a journey and bidding a farewell
only for a little while to the boys whom
he loved, cherished and protected with
all the towering strength and vigor of his
virile manhood.
What man can say more than that his
father was a man — not great in worldly
fame, or amassed riches, but great in
patriotism, endurance and the tender love
of the little family arc — now broken on
earth — but endless in memories eternal?
IF YOU DO
By EDWARD WILBUR MASON
IF you sing a brave song that rings with the truth,
^ If you shout it aloud in a trumpet voice;
If you give to age remembrance of youth;
If you bid the sad heart with your lay rejoice;
If you spread broadcast the gospel of cheer;
If you give of your music goodly store;
Though you live in thicket or backwoods drear,
All the world will make its way to your door.
If you paint a great picture that mirrors life ;
If you mix with its tints your mind and heart;
If you keep in the background jar and strife;
If you limn the canvas with genial art;
If truth you portray on her throne august;
If beauty you draw as the pens of yore;
Though you live in garret and have but crust,
All the world will make its way to your door.
If you fashion indeed a simple thing;
If you make for use or ornament fine;
If you toil at your task like knight or king;
If you give each effort a fire divine;
If you polish the wares that leave your hand;
If you finish brass like to precious ore;
Though you live in alley with clotheslines spanned,
All the world will make its way to your door.
^CHICAGO
marvelous IliGcirical UeveiopmGtvt
\Vliai Itiomas A* Eaison nas Lived to Sec
(Zy WC' Jenkins
(CONTINUED FROM THE JANUARY NUMBER)
"S typical of the best and most
up-to-date practice in the cen-
tral electrical station industry
in our larger cities, there is no
system more worthy of study or emula-
tion than that of the Commonwealth
Edison Company. The company's growth
and practice are regarded so important
that they are being closely watched not
alone by the electrical engineers of this
country, but by many from abroad. The
system has been copied as far as possible
by scores of smaller companies in this
country and in Europe, and many prob-
lems have been solved by the engineers
of the Commonwealth Edison Company,
which have resulted in distinct benefits
to electrical companies in every part of
the world.
The results of recent expansions and
readjustments have been very important,
more perhaps in the disposition of the com-
pany's central and sub-stations and the
nature of their apparatus than in the
corresponding increase in capital; for the
simple reason that each step being "scien-
tifically planned and carefully taken has
led to further economy, thus enhancing
the stability and permanency of the in-
vestment. Today the company has, partly
by chance and partly by choice, reached
a strategic position because of the fact
that each of the sub-stations dominates a
specific district and acts as a nucleus for
the blending and over-lapping of the whole
interests into one vast inter-connected
whole.
Connected with the system are thirty-
two sub-stations owned and used ex-
clusively by the company. Twenty are
used for railroad service and four are
combination sub-stations built to contain
apparatus for both railway and ordinary
service. Most of these sub-stations are
located in large distributing centers and
occupy handsome buildings. Three sta-
tions are used exclusively for storage
batteries.
It would be folly to imagine that the
highest point of development in central
station work has been reached. In spite
of all the activity and the degrees of per-
fection which have been attained, the
central station is still very far from filling
its sphere. It has, it is true, driven horse
cars from the city streets; it has supplanted
gas to a considerable extent, and it sup-
plies cheap and ready power; but there are
other offices to be filled. The people
want cleaner homes and streets; purer
atmosphere and skies that are not con-
stantly obscured by smoke. Fancy the
atmosphere of Chicago as pure and void
of smoke as a country village. Such a
dream is not impossible of realization.
The smoke nuisance costs the people of
Chicago at least fifty million dollars an-
nually in the destruction of household
goods and clothing, and the defacement of
buildings, to say nothing about the loss
of vitality to the citizens. We see loco-
motives belching smoke and cinders in
great profusion, hundreds of factory
chimneys reeking with fumes and thou-
sands of lesser filthy chimneys adding
their little contribution to the great clouds
of dense smoke. There is no better way
of abating the nuisance than by stimu-
lating the use of electricity. When the
complete function and possibilities of
the central station are fully appreciated
we may expect the dawn of a smokeless
(513)
514 CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
era — :a consummation that is pleasing to
contemplate.
In the control of the lighting business
of a large city by one company some
theorists believe they see a trust or mo-
nopoly and they argue that if the busi-
ness were divided, lower prices would
prevail. History, which is the only safe
guidance in human affairs, does not
substantiate such a claim. Competition
in the central station business means a
should also be a protected monopoly —
protected against the competition of
raiders and promoters whose only purpose
is to sell stock and float securities.
Notwithstanding the fact that nearly
every commodity has advanced in price
during recent years, the" selling price of
electricity in large quantities has constantly
declined and is now about one-tenth of
what it was twenty years ago. It is less
than a dozen years since the business of
EDGEWATER CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, SHOWING^ MODERN CHURCH ILLUMINATION;.
duplication of plants and capitalization,
and is an economic error.' When there
is competition the inevitable tendency is
toward consolidation, with its excessive
capitalization upon which the patrons of
the consolidated company are compelled
to pay interest. When consolidation is
effected, the resulting monopoly is loaded
down with duplicate machinery on which
fixed charges must be paid by the customers.
The central stations business is of its
very character a natural monopoly; but
it should be a regulated monopoly. It
generating electricity was considered a
precarious one. Today the stock quo-
tations show that the same business at the
present time is on a safe commercial
basis despite the greatly reduced prices.
Investments in well-conducted electric
lighting companies are today considered
among the safest and best.
Aside from some very small companies
and the sanitary district of Chicago,
which is supplying the municipal current
requirements for street lighting, and
pumping of the city of Chicago and small
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT 515
adjacent cities from its hydro-electric
plant at Lockport, the Commonwealth
Edison Company is the exclusive central
station company of Chicago. Its retail
distribution is confined within the city
limits; its wholesale or bulk distribu-
tion to public-service corporations, chiefly
electric railways, and while largest in
the city of Chicago it extends also to ad-
joining interurban towns. This outside
distribution is accomplished through har-
monious working between the Common-
electric plant developing 5,000 horse
power and a steam turbine plant of 2,500
horse power. The company furnishes
power for the operators for the Joliet
Electric Railway and the interurban
systems between Joliet and Chicago, also
to Aurora and Chicago Heights. The
system is connected to that of the Common-
wealth Edison Company by means of a line
along the old Illinois and Michigan Canal.
The North Shore Electric Company
has four generating stations located in
"ELECTRIC SHOP," JACKSON AND MICHIGAN BOULEVARDS
wealth Edison Company and the North
Shore Electric Company and the Economy
Light and Power Company. The three
companies operate through a crescent
shape zone, including Chicago and its
suburbs, and extending to a point south
of Milwaukee in the north and to Kanka-
kee, Illinois, on the south. There is a
southwesterly offshoot from the zone
some thirty-five miles long connecting
with the Economy Light and Power
Company's system at Joliet, Illinois.
The latter system contains a hydro -
Evanston, Waukegan, Maywood and Blue
Island. Mostly steam turbo generators
are used, having an aggregated capacity
of 15,000 horse power. The company
supplies current for the suburbs along the
north shore from Evanston to Zion City,
also to the northwest and west of Chicago
suburban towns; also to Blue Island.
There is also supplied energy for the oper-
ation of the Chicago, Milwaukee Electric
Railway and the Southern Traction Com-
pany system running from Chicago to
Kankakee, Illinois. The North Shore
516 CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
Company system is connected to that of
the Commonwealth Edison Company at
Evanston and also at Blue Island. The
ease and practicability of long transmis-
sion lines have caused a great extension
of the area which may be covered by lines
from the Commonwealth Edison station.
In the consolidation of the Edison and
Commonwealth Companies in 1907, it
was required that the new concern
should operate under the Commonwealth
business in that year of $2,507,772, of
which the city got three per cent. The
opinion of the legal department of the
city of Chicago at the time of consolida-
tion, was that the company can cut rates
in parts of the city to meet real com-
petition; while not making the same cut
in others; and that the test of a reason-
able rate is not whether there is a fair
profit on each individual account, but on
the business as a whole.
QUARRY STREET POWER HOUSE, COMMONWEALTH EDISON COMPANY
Electric Company ordinance, which takes
in the entire city, while the old Edison
Company franchise covered only a part.
Besides it is a long-term grant, running
for fifty years, while the Edison Company
grant would have expired in five years.
It carries a provision that three per cent
of the gross receipts goes to the city. In
the first year the gain to the city amounted
to $150,000. The gross receipts of the
Edison Company in 1906 were $4,744,823,
but the city got nothing of it. The Com-
monwealth Company, which was operat-
ing in the outside districts, had a gross
Notwithstanding the extraordinary de-
velopment of the Commonwealth Edison
Company, there is expert authority for
the statement that three times the present
volume of business should naturally come
to the company's central station. There
is the energy now very largely wasted in
the various individual steam plants and
there is some needless and, therefore, use-
less competition. To capture as large
a proportion as possible of this business
is the avowed purpose of the Common-
wealth Edison Company within the next
two years. Every legitimate method
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT 517
known to the electrical fraternity will be
employed, and it is safe to say that previous
records of development will be totally
eclipsed by those of the next two or three
years.
p , Thomas A. Edison recently said, "Elec-
tricity is the only one thing I know that
has grown any cheaper in ten years."
In view of the greatly increased cost of
nearly every commodity the great reduc-
tion in the price of electricity is a matter
of pleasant contemplation, and to the
sold, only twenty-five per cent per unit
of the income received thirteen years ago.
But the business is more profitable to-
day notwithstanding the greatly reduced
price. The company's rates in the general
average are now said to be lower than the
rates in any city in the world; and they
will grow still lower with increasing demand
for electricity and with that ever-increas-
ing demand will come an ever-increasing
revenue and an ever-decreasing cost.
The last few years have witnessed a
SECTION OF COAL STORAGE IN YARDS OF THE FISK STREET POWER HOUSE
electrical fraternity is due considerable
credit. Perhaps nowhere has the price
reduction of electricity been more sweep-
ing than in Chicago, where the Common-
wealth Edison Company made various
reductions from 1905 to 1910 inclusive,
which totalled forty per cent. Through
improved apparatus, concentration of pro-
duction and efficiency in methods of
selling the output the company was able
to reduce the price to the consumer with-
out reducing the profits to the stockhold-
ers. It may be mentioned that the income
for the fiscal year ending September 30,
1910, was as regards the unit of quantity
phenomenal development in electric power
supply, or motor service. If it were not
for their motor day loads it would be
impossible for central stations to furnish
incandescent and arc lighting at anything
like the prices which prevail at the present
time. Three-fifths of the Commonwealth
Edison Company's electrical output is
sold for power and it is for this reason that
the company can give its lighting customers
an exceptionally low rate.
The system of charges adopted by the
Commonwealth Edison Company is
founded on the belief that the value of
the service rendered to any individual
518 CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
should be based on the cost of serving
him, and not on the average cost of serv-
ing its entire body of consumers, and that
as the cost of supplying current per kilo-
watt hour varies greatly with the dif-
ferent classes of service, so the price per
kilowatt hour, in justice to the several
users, should vary greatly to different
customers. In other words, the customer
who guarantees $5 per horse power per
month is entitled to a lower average than
the customer who can only guarantee
$1 per horse power per month. The
rates are fixed by ordinance and the
present agreement will terminate in 1912,
being a five-year contract adopted 1907.
The present prices charged under the
contract are thirteen cents per kilowatt
hour as a primary rate for energy used up
to the equivalent of thirty hours' use of the
customer's maximum demand, and seven
cents per kilowatt hour as a secondary
rate for all energy in excess of the fore-
going amount. A discount of one per
cent per kilowatt hour from this rate
is allowed on all bills paid within ten
days. Power is furnished in large quan-
tities as low or even lower than in any
city in the United States.
In the present age of plentiful invest-
ment opportunities nothing can be con-
sidered safer or more attractive than the
stock which is being offered by many of
the great electrical corporations of this
country. This is true because in these
investments are combined great security
and a fair return of profit and remarkable
possibilities for the future. There are,
of course, certain lighting corporations
which are compelled to operate under
disadvantageous conditions that make
their stock and bonds anything but de-
sirable investments. These conditions may
be: lack of proper capital and credit, in-
efficient or obsolete apparatus, a hostile
community, or expiring franchises with
no assurance of satisfactory renewals.
When a corporation is in charge of a far-
sighted management these undesirable
elements are generally overcome long be-
fore the immediate danger arrives and
vexatious problems are solved many years
before 'they become a menace.
To ^illustrate how thoroughly the pos-
sible obstacles have been removed from
the Chicago field, it might be stated that
the Commonwealth Edison Company,
which is in control of the service, holds
a franchise which covers the entire city
and which does not expire until 1947; it
has devised the best central station system
and installed the most modern and efficient
machinery in existence, and as a result
is giving the people of Chicago the best
service and the lowest rates, everything
considered, of any city in the world, and
its credit is of the highest, which is shown
by the fact that a $2,500,000 bond issue
in 1909 was five times over subscribed.
It should also be added that the company
possesses a very valuable asset in the gen-
eral confidence of the people. Its re-
lations with the municipality are most
harmonious, due largely to its always
keeping good faith with the city and its
patrons, and its record is devoid of under-
hand methods or political entanglements.
The Chicago company has been fore-
most among American electric lighting
corporations in creating the demand for
apparatus used in the arts of electric
heating and cooking. For many years
such apparatus was easily deranged, and
very uneconomical in its consumption
of current; but these defects have been
removed. During recent years electricity
has made a prominent place for itself in
innumerable special instances and over a
wide variety of industrial and domestic
uses. Moreover, the high efficiency me-
tallic filament incandescent lamps, by
their smaller consumption of current,
have put central station managers on the
alert to dispose of the surplus energy thus
left idle on their hands. In Chicago
there has been an enormous stimulation
of activity in this new field. Notable
was the Commonwealth Edison's flat iron
campaign a short time ago. During a three
months period the company put out
10,000 flat irons under special inducements.
Following the remarkable success of the
flat iron campaign the company began
introducing, with much success, electrical
appliances of all kinds.
During the early days of the art the
losses from depreciation and obsolescence
of electrical apparatus were enormous;
in fact, it often occurred that equipments
installed one year would be consigned
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT 519
to the scrap heap the next. Invention
after invention quickly rendered the
earlier machinery obsolete and useless,
and it has been customary for well-managed
corporations to charge off a certain amount
for depreciation each year — usually from
eight to twelve per cent. Many cor-
porations that refused to observe the
necessity of a reasonable depreciation
charge eventually found themselves floun-
dering among dangerous financial shoals.
In its provision for depreciation the Com-
monwealth Edison Company and its
predecessors have always preferred to be
on the safe side and the effect of the
A few interesting facts concerning the
Commonwealth Edison Company may
be mentioned in this connection.
The investment in bonds and stocks
per horse power of station capacity is
$205.60.
The gross yearly income per horse power
of capacity is $44.56.
The gross yearly income per $100 in-
vested in stocks and bonds is $21.70.
The gross yearly income per capita of
population is $6.00.
The number of sixteen-candle power
lamp equivalent connected is 8,143,908.
The connected load expressed in horse
TWO BIRD'S-EYE VIEWS OF WEST MADISON STREET, CHICAGO, ILLUMINATED
practical application was shown when the
consolidation of. the companies took place
in 1907. At that time an exhaustive ex-
amination and appraisal of the property
by experts not identified with the company
showed real estate and other property
amounting to $52,495,749.18, or more than
$1,500,000 in excess of the par value of
all the stock and bonds outstanding.
The authorized stock of the Common-
wealth Edison Company is $40,000,000,
and with the bonded indebtedness there
are practically $67,500,000 invested at
this time in the generation and distri-
bution of electric voltage from the central
stations in Chicago. Six per cent divi-
dends are paid on the stock and five per
cent interest on the bonds.
power is: for lighting, 236,529; for power,
158,706, and for street and interurban
railways, 150, 603, making a total of 545,838.
The customer's dollar is spent by the
company as follows: Dividends and in-
terest twenty-four cents; taxes and muni-
cipal compensation, seven cents; payroll,
coal and other supplies and incidental
expenses fifty cents; depreciation, eleven
cents, and surplus, eight cents.
The company's connected load ex-
pressed in sixteen-candle power equivalents
in the year 1900 was 769,115 lamps; in the
year 1910, expressed the same way, it
amounts to 8,143,908 lamps. In 1900,
it had 13,919 customers, and in 1910 it had
125,000.
The maximum Ioad*in^l900 was^!4,200
520 CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
kilowatts, or a little over 19,000 horse
power; the maximum load last winter was
158,000 kilowatts, a little over 211,000
horse power. This winter's maximum
load will probably run up to 200,000 kilo-
watts, or 270,000 horse power.
The kilowatt hours generated in 1900
were 34,370,000. This amount is sup-
plied to one customer at the present
time. The kilowatt hours generated for
the fiscal year just closed — the end of
the selling at a high price or at a low price,
was a little under twenty-nine per cent.
In 1910 the load factor was a little over
forty-one per cent.
In 1900 the company's gross earnings
were $2,650,958, and for the year ending
September, 1910, they were $13,083,725.
The total money employed in the com-
pany's business in 1900 was $14,391,971,
while the amount of money employed at
the present time is $67,500,000.
STREET ILLUMINATION IN CHICAGO
September — were 601,712,335 kilowatt
hours, a greater output than that gener-
ated in any city of the world, not exclud-
ing the great city of London with over
seven millions of people and covering an
area almost equivalent to that of the
state of Rhode Island.
In 1900 the company had nine gener-
ating stations running. Today it oper-
ates three, and probably one of them will
go out of use within the next few years.
In 1900 the load factor, which, after all,
is the controlling element in the question
of making or losing money rather than
Of very great importance in these days
when so much is said about corporations
dodging their share of municipal burdens
is the matter of taxes on personal prop-
erty and real estate, federal taxes and
compensation to the city. This is one
of the most important items in the Com-
monwealth Edison's business. In 1900
the corporation's taxes and municipal
compensation amounted to $90,773. In
the year just closed, these items amounted
to $968,262.
It is not stretching the facts to say that
the Chicago company has about a third
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT 521
more customers than the largest com-
pany in this country. It puts out about a
third more kilowatt hours, and receives
for it about a third less dollars. This
statement is the best that can be made
to show what the company is doing for
the community in which it operates.
An interesting question is: what becomes
of the money that the company spends?
How much of it, in the form of wages, goes
pany and through its contractors, the
enormous sum of $3,250,000. During the
same period, $3,114,000 was paid for divi-
dends and interest.
On the one hand the company has
about 3,000 employees; on the other hand,
it has nearly seventy millions of dollars
invested in the business. After paying
operating expenses — that is, for material,
about $1,400,000 for coal, $1,000,000 for
THORNTON-CLANEY LUMBER COMPANY'S YARD
Flaming arcs for night work and motor driven cranes
to the employees, and how much of it, in
the form of interest and dividends, goes
to those who provide the capital to de-
velop the business? Capital is entitled
to its wages in the shape of interest and
dividends, just as much as labor is en-
titled to be paid in the shape of wages or
salaries. For the year ending September
30, 1910, the total income amounted to
$13,083,725. During the same time the
company invested nearly six millions of
dollars in new plants. In the same time
it paid out for labor directly from the corn-
taxes and compensation and vast sums
for other classes of material — the labor
employed in the organization take a
little more than one-half of what is left.
They receive $3,250,000. The capital
employed in the business receives for its
wages a little less than the employees,
or $3,114,000.
What does this mean? It means that
anything that will work an injury to
capital, works an injury just as much to
labor. These figures would probably ap-
ply to every large electricity supply com-
522 CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT
pany the world over. Labor, as a rule,
gets just about one-half of the net results.
In other words, the capitalist puts his
money into the business and he takes his
pay in one-half of the profits, and he gives
to labor the other half of the profits.
A recent contract entered into with the
Chicago City Railway Company, now the
Chicago City and Connecting Railways
Company, for all its energy would indi-
cate that the electrical company is able to
under-bid railway companies at producing
lighted by the Commonwealth Edison
system, but such is the case only where
it would not be profitable for the city to
extend the municipal wires.
The city of Chicago has built its street
lighting system a little at a time as it
has always been short of funds to properly
equip and enlarge its public undertakings,
with the exception of its water works for
which bonds may be issued.
Until about two years ago, the city
obtained power for lighting the. streets
INTERIOR TURBINE ROOM, FISK STREET POWER HOUSE
Ten steam Turbo-generators
energy all along the line. This fact is of
importance in view of the certainty of the
electrification of the steam railway ter-
minals within the city limits of Chicago at
no very distant date. Approximately
1,250 miles of single track of street, ele-
vated and underground railways are sup-
plied energy from this company.
Lighting the streets of Chicago has al-
ways been considered a municipal func-
tion. This theory has never been dis-
puted by the Commonwealth Edison
Company, or its predecessors. It is true
that some of the outlying districts are
from its own municipal steam plants.
Today most of the power is obtained from
the Illinois drainage canal. The drainage
canal cost $65,000,000 and is claimed to
be the greatest sanitary undertaking the
world has ever seen. It has proved a
great success as a disposer of sewage and
incidentally a water power was created
and utilized by building a generating
station at Lockport, Illinois, where a
fall of thirty-four feet is available. The
present rating of the plant is 32,000 horse
power. Electricity is transmitted to a
terminal station in Chicago, thirty miles
CHICAGO'S MARVELOUS ELECTRICAL DEVELOPMENT 523
distant, from whence it is conveyed to the
various sub-stations belonging to the
municipality. The plant was completed
in December, 1907, but it was not until
May, 1909, that a profit was shown. The
power plant at Lockport, with the trans-
mission lines, represents an investment of
approximately $4,000,000. The municipal
plant is striving to obtain commercial
business and notwithstanding the low
prices offered, the development has been
power facilities can be safely computed
while the limitations of the growing de-
mand may be far beyond the most op-
timistic calculations.
The Commonwealth Edison Company
has always preferred to separate itself, so
far as possible, from any alliance with the
city of Chicago, concerning municipal
lighting, and has thereby escaped the
political entanglements such as are so
common in many of our large cities. Its
MODERN METHODS
Electric flat irons in a dry cleaning establishment in Chicago
slow. In 1907 it secured six contracts;
in 1908, sixty-four, and in 1909, eighty-six
customers were added. The customers
secured were mostly large users of power.
The president of the Sanitary district
asserts that house lighting in Chicago is
not a water power proposition and what
business is secured must be gotten from
power users.
It is doubtful if the city's water power
resources will ever prove an important
factor in Chicago's electric lighting re-
quirements. The limitations of the water
municipal service rendered the city amounts
to $50,000 per year, while the company
pays out for taxes and percentage of its
earnings to the city approximately $1,000,-
000 per year.
President Insull of the Commonwealth
Edison Company is a firm believer in
everything that bears the name of "Edi-
son," and he has been a powerful factor
in the association of Edison illuminating
companies. The Edison companies of
the country are all formed upon the same
general plan and their conventions are
524
DEATHLESS
more in the nature of family conferences
than anything else. Mr. InsulPs loyalty
to Mr. Edison and his deep admiration
for, and confidence in, the great inventor
have often been commented upon. It is
true that Mr. Edison entertains a high
opinion of Mr. Insull's ability and fully
appreciates the value of the services
rendered him in the early days when care-
ful management and close attention to
details of the Edison interests were mostly
needed. The uninterrupted friendship
which has existed between these two men
for so many years has been of mutual
benefit to both and to the interests they
represent.
During a decade of investigation work,
which has been spent principally studying
the standing and methods of corporations
that have to do with municipal economies,
I have never found a more compact and
enthusiastic working force, nor a more
efficient and clear-sighted official leadership
than that of the Commonwealth Edison
Company. The co-operation is inspiring
in its enthusiasm. The "electric shop"
on Jackson Boulevard, the library, the
home-like club rooms and sanitary ap-
pointments for the employes; the mutual
exchange of ideas for the good of the
organization in the stated meetings and
through the company's publications, the
"Electric City" and "Edison Round
Table"; the loyalty and stick-to-it-iveness
evident in every department; the avidity
with which progressive ideas are adopted,
all create an impression of strength and
singleness of purpose, a perfect system for
the efficient service of the Great American
City.
DEATHLESS
By EDWARD WILBUR MASON
*T*HE songs of beauty never hush,
*• For somewhere and somehow
The whole round year some raptured thrush
Sings on the lyric bough.
The flower of beauty forever blows,
For fresh and sweet and fair
The whole round year some perfect rose
Sweetens the desert air.
The light of beauty ne'er is done,
For warm and bright and boon
The whole round year some golden sun
Illumes the world with noon.
The things of beauty ne'er depart,
For touched to tenderness
The whole round year some happy heart
Thanks God for loveliness1
was
]V[adc
By George
Wharton
James
Author of "Through Ramona's Country," "The Heroes of California,"
"The California Birthday Book," "The Wonders of the Colorado
Desert," "In and Out of the Old Mansions of California," etc.
"T the time of their endurance,
most men would forego the hard-
ships of life for something
easier. Yet the experiences of
the ages teach that it is the difficulties
and obstacles of life overcome that develop
or "make" the man. Necessarily many
things go to the making of any man,
especially if he attain to eminence in any
walk of life. Many factors are to be con-
sidered, such as heredity, natural tem-
perament, the environments of early life,
the force of exterior circumstances, the
fortuitous arrangement of things and
events of which the man of genius is able
to take hold and mold to his own pur-
pose. And by no means least in its im-
portance, if his work is for the fickle
public, is the factor of his striking such
a vein as is permanently popular and con-
stantly satisfying.
Samuel Langhorne Clemens, known only
to the world, however, as Mark Twain,
first saw the light of day November 30,
1835, in the hamlet of Florida, Missouri.
At this time, in the whole region west
of the Mississippi River, which now con-
tains thirty millions of people, or more,
there were less than half a million white
inhabitants. St. Louis was the only city
west of the Mississippi and it had no more
than ten thousand inhabitants.
In this great and wonderful western
land, with its possibilities scarcely be-
ginning to dawn upon its people, and
with the great Mississippi River close at
hand, Mark Twain lived his early life.
His father died when he was twelve years
old and all the scholastic education he
received was given him prior to that time.
Henceforth the world was to be his school,
college and university, and it is another
evidence of the power of untrammelled
genius that Mark Twain won from the
greatest universities of the world the
highest honors for his attainments in
literature, without having studied in any
of them.
As his biographer has well said: "It
is fortunate indeed for literature that
Mark Twain was never ground into smooth
uniformity under the scholastic emery
wheel. He has made the world his uni-
versity, and in men, and books, and strange
(525)
526
HOW MARK TWAIN WAS MADE
places, and all the phases of an infinitely
varied life, has built an education broad
and deep, on the foundations of an un-
disturbed individuality.
For a short time he assisted his brother
Orion as printer's devil in a newspaper
office where he learned to set type. He
filled up his spare time by wandering
with his village companions, and about
this time he had been pulled out, in a
nearly drowned condition, three times
from the "Father of Waters" and six
times from Bear Creek.
When he was eighteen years of age,
Mark Twain himself used to describe the
responsibility and the extensive train-
ing of the faculties of observation and
memory essential to the making of a
pilot to realize how absurd such a charge
must be.
What a schooling for a young and im-
pressionable boy with an undeveloped
and powerful genius unconsciously alert
to take in impressions, his profession
disciplining his memory to retain all
that varied, wonderful, large and pic-
turesque life on and about the Mississippi
River which he afterward so wonderfully
A TYPICAL RIVER STEAMBOAT WITH WHICH MARK TWAIN'S NAME WILL
EVER BE ASSOCIATED
the "wanderlust" struck him and for a
time he rambled through the Eastern
States supporting himself as a tramp
printer. Then for a time, he lived in St.
Louis, Muscatine and Keokuk, until 1857,
when he persuaded one of the most noted
Mississippi River pilots, Horace Bixby,
to teach him the mysteries of steamboat
piloting.
In the fact that Mark Twain submitted
himself to the tremendous discipline neces-
sary to this task is the best proof of his
inherent love of work. He always accused
himself of laziness, and I have heard scores
of people re-echo the charge, but one has
only to realize the full force of words that
reproduced in "Tom Sawyer," "Huckle-
berry Finn," "Pudd'n Head Wilson" and
"Life on the Mississippi."
In 1861 this part of his life closed forever.
The Civil War broke out and ruined
steamboating on the Mississippi. Living
in the South, his sympathies were naturally
with the Confederates, although his brother
Orion was already a somewhat prominent
Northern politician. For a short time,
Mark served in a company of Missouri
rangers, and he afterward made his
exploits at that time the occasion for an
article full of good-natured humor pointed
at himself and his companions. He was
captured but escaped, and his brother
HOW MARK TWAIN WAS MADE
527
Orion, having received an appointment
as the secretary of the new territory of
Nevada, he was invited to accompany
him, doubtless as an effectual plan of
removing him from the possibility of any
further mischief.
Mark's account of the overland stage
trip across the plains is one of the most
painstaking and truthful pieces of literary
work he ever accomplished. There is
nothing in literature comparable to it
as an absolutely accurate account of that
wonderful eighteen days' stage ride. It
forms the chief part of the first volume
of "Roughing It," a book full of his
western experiences. It will ultimately
be used as an historical and literary text
book in every Western school, college
and university that wishes to preserve
to its students the memory of those re-
markable and heroic days "when there
were giants in the land."
When the brothers arrived at Carson
City, Nevada, Mark found his duties nil,
and his salary ditto, so he was easily in-
duced to visit one of the mining camps
not far away and there try his hand at a
fresh venture. Now began a new life
as large, wild, open, picturesque, rugged
and fantastic as had been his life on the
Mississippi. It was ultimately to lead
him into California and across the Pacific
to the Sandwich Islands and thus add
another tremendous treasure of material
to his observing mind and fecund genius,
to work up into stories and books of
exquisite flavor for the delectation of the
literature and humor-loving epicures of
the world.
Yet here began some of the sterner
elements of Mark Twain's making. It
was on the Pacific coast that not only
was his genius awakened, but his man-
hood aroused, fortified, strengthened and
set definitely upon the path upon which
he ever afterwards faithfully and de-
votedly walked. As Browning eloquently
puts it, it was a fierce "dance of plastic
circumstance," and the wheel of life upon
which the Divine Potter placed him
"spun dizzily," so it is not to be wondered
at that his, as yet, unawakened mind
would have been glad to arrest it and
escape.
Times were hard in the new mining
camp, and Mark and his partner accom-
plished little. With his newspaper ex-
perience he naturally gravitated to the
local newspaper office, which he once
in a while favored with an original con-
tribution. At last he ventured to send
occasional items to the Territorial En-
terprise Sit Virginia City, then edited by
Joseph T. Goodman, who is still living
in Oakland, California. Goodman was
a man of keen and unerring literary in-
stinct and immediately recognized in
his unknown correspondent a man of
power, so he invited him to come and
take up regular work upon the paper.
One day he was surprised by a young
man, wearing a. dilapidated hat, miner's
overalls, hickory shirt, and heavy clump-
ing shoes, carrying a roll of dirty blankets
on his back, walking into the office, with
a quaint drawling salutation to the effect
that he had "come according to instruc-
tions duly received." It took a little
time for Goodman to realize that the
rough and uncouth-looking miner was the
correspondent upon whose letters he had
begun to base high literary hopes.
And there it was on the steep slopes
on Mount Davidson, above the wonderful
Comstock lode, so that mines were the
main subject of business, recreation, con-
versation and endeavor, he began the
literary career that was ultimately to
make his name as familiar as household
words, give him a large place in the hearts
of many millions of people and establish
his fame forevermore.
Associated with him were Goodman,
Rollin M. Daggett and William Wright,
known to the world as Dan de Quille.
Nearly thirty years ago, when I went to
Virginia City, I learned to know Wright
well, and now and again he would get
into a reminiscent mood and tell stories
about Mark. One story he always en-
joyed telling and chuckled considerably
over was about the time when Mark's
associates presented, him with a meer-
schaum pipe that he much coveted.
One day there was exhibited in one of
the store windows of the camp an elaborate
pipe, of German make — one of those
large, carved, old-fashioned pipes that
brings before you a picture of a Dutch
burgomaster with his stein of beer on the
528
HOW MARK TWAIN WAS MADE
table at his elbow. Mark saw this pipe
and coveted it. As he and Dan went to
lunch, Mark would stop, and in his slow,
drawling fashion, comment on that pipe.
But the price — one hundred dollars —
placed it far out of reach.
Mark was an inveterate smoker, and
he had the vilest, worst-smelling pipe in
Virginia City, and though printers are
not, as a rule, squeamish about such
things, this pipe was a little too much
for them, and they always spoke of it
as "the remains." So, putting this and
that together, Wright saw a way of getting
rid of "the remains," playing a good joke
on Mark in return for jokes in which he
had been the victim, and giving "the
boys" some fun. Dan was "no slouch of
a wag" — as they used to say of him in
Virginia City. This was the scheme he
concocted :
Someone in town was found who made
a dummy copy of the pipe Mark coveted,
but fixed it in a way that it would fall
to pieces — melt in places — and the bowl
split whenever anyone attempted to use
it. This pipe was to be given to Mark
by the "boys of the printing office" as
a surprise. They were to give him a
dinner or something of the kind, and
Dan was "let into the secret," so that on
the "strict Q. T." he might whisper it
to Mark, in order that the latter might
be ready to respond with a bright and
witty speech, which, delivered as a purely
extemporaneous effort, would "bring down
the house."
Mark fell into the trap as innocently
as a "sucking duck" — to use Dan's ex-
pression, and on the appointed night,
when the work on the paper was all
done, the boys from "the rear" and the
reporters and writers from "the front"
went over, with a good deal of solemnity
and respect, to where the spread was
laid out. After dinner, when all were
feeling good, one of the party made the
presentation speech. He talked about
the wearisome, brain-racking work of
journalism, and the long hours of labor
under the silent, serene stars of the mid-
night sky, when all the rest of the world
was sweetly wrapped in profound slumber,
enjoying well-earned rest. Then he stole
a few ideas (in advance of publication)
from Barrie's My Lady Nicotine, and
dashed off into a flowing eulogy of the
soothing effect of tobacco upon the
exhausted and wearied brain, and, as a
final crash of eloquence, spoke feelingly
and touchingly of the happy and cordial
relations that had always existed be-
tween the news department and the
composing room, and hoped that noth-
ing would ever occur to sever the silken
ties, etc., etc. Then, amid loud applause,
he handed Mark the thirty-cent fraud.
Of course, Mark was taken entirely by
surprise, and he was delighted in the
extreme, and "too much moved to say
anything." He seemed to be "knocked
into a cocked hat," but by and by he
pulled himself together, and began his care-
fully prepared extempore speech. He
thanked the boys for their gift — it had
touched him deeply — he would ever re-
tain it as a pleasant souvenir of many
happy days, and especially this day, one
of the happiest of his life. Then, and here
was what the boys cheered, he went on
to speak of his old pipe, told how it had
been the solace of many lonely hours,
had come with him across the plains,
etc., but this new and handsome gift
from friends he had learned to love made
parting from it easy, and — this had been
suggested by Wright as a brilliant and
dramatic climax to the extemporaneous
effort — therefore, he would cast it away.
And, suiting the action to the word, he
threw it out of the window, and then
invited the boys to "take something with
him."
They accepted, of course, and filled
Mark full with their naive and open
expressions of joy at his fine speech.
How delighted they were with it, and
how they congratulated him upon his
great gift, and wondered "how on earth
he could do it." "What a wonderful
gift it was, and how they envied him,
that he could get up on his feet and
make so bright and witty a speech off-
hand," etc., etc., ad libitum. Mark took
it all in at its face value and was tickled
and flattered from top to toe, for it has
never been denied that he had the ordi-
nary man's vanity and love of approbation,
and all went well as a marriage bell.
Mark, however, wanted to try his
HOW MARK TWAIN WAS MADE
529
pipe, and there was the rock upon which
the conspiracy came near splitting. The
conspirators did, however, persuade him
not to "spoil his new pipe" then, but wait
until he got home. He was finally helped
home in a cab, and three or four of the
most interested — and most sober — waited
outside his door to hear the fun.
But when he got to this part of the
story, Dan for a time could never get
any further for laughing.
Mark charged and lit the pipe, a'nd
it was not long before the expected hap-
pened. The bowl split open from stem
to stern, and. the whole thing fell apart,
and the peeping conspirators heard him
growling to himself in phraseology that
was neither fit for a Sunday-school book
nor for the pages of this reputable family
journal, while he petulantly brushed the
hot ashes from his clothes and writing table.
He never said a word to a soul about
the pipe or whatever became of it, and
none of the boys ever said anything to
him, but the joke was on them, for the
following day, when he appeared at the
office, he had "the remains" in his mouth.
They had forgotten to remove it
and Mark had gone out, hunted it
up and restored it to its old place in his
favor. Dan says Mark was never "real
genial" with him from that time.
It was while he was in Virginia City
that he wrote two satires or burlesques
that, when one understands their local
application, are excruciatingly funny.
They are both included in his "Sketches
New and Old" and one of them, "The
Petrified Man," is a never-ending source
of delight to thousands. There had been
a great craze for digging up petrifac-
tions and other marvels, and as Mark
says: "The mania was becoming a little
ridiculous. I was a bran-new local editor
in Virginia City, and I felt called upon
to destroy this growing evil; we all have
our benignant fatherly moods at one time
or another, I suppose. I chose to kill
the petrifaction mania with a delicate,
a very delicate satire. But maybe it was
altogether too delicate, for nobody ever
perceived the satire part of it at all. I
put my scheme in the shape of the dis-
covery^' of Ja remarkably petrified man."
In the account written for his paper
he stated, with all the circumstantiality
of detail that the conscientious reporter
shows, how that the petrification had been
discovered at Gravelly Ford, about one
hundred and twenty-five miles away,
over a breakneck mountain trail. He
had had a quarrel with the Coroner, so
he determined to make him ridiculous
by telling how he had impanelled a jury
and they had visited the scene of the dis-
covery, held an inquest on the "remains"
and returned a verdict that the deceased
had come to his death from protracted
exposure.
The whole thing was a screaming bur-
lesque from beginning to end, and if any
one had read carefully he would have
seen from the description of the posture
of the hands of the petrified man that it
was so. But the thing was done so in-
geniously that nobody "tumbled," and
the result was that Mark's petrified man
went the rounds of the press of the civi-
lized world and finally came back to him
from the London Lancet.
If one has not read "The Petrified Man"
and has any sense of humor in him, the
sooner he gets to it, the better.
Soon after he arrived in Virginia City
he was sent to Carson City, as the paper's
correspondent from the territorial legis-
lature which was then in session. It was
here that his peculiar humor first began
to be noticed, for personalities were the
fashion in those days, and Mark's were
singularly effective if irritation and anger
are a proof of effectiveness.
Many things that Mark wrote for the
Enterprise are worth republishing and
some day, perhaps, some indefatigable
searcher will hunt them out and give them
to the world. Here is one, however,
quoted by Mrs. Ella Cummins-Mighels
and her comments thereon: "In his
work upon the Enterprise was a bit of
literary criticism which has passed into
a familiar saying, to be handed down
from father to son, and mother to daughter.
Upon the death of Lincoln many obituary
poems sprang into print, among them one
which took the fancy of Mark Twain
who set it off thus:
'Gone, gone, gone,
Gone to his endeavor;
Gone, gone, gone,
Forever and forever.
530
HOW MARK TWAIN WAS MADE
" 'This is a very nice refrain to this
little poem. But if there is any criticism
to make upon it, I should say that there
was a little too much 'gone' and not
enough 'forever.' And to this day it is
used as a case in point relating to a super-
fluity of any kind."
A man whom Mark became very fond
of was Jack Perry, the deputy sheriff
of the camp in the early days, when it
was common to have a "man for break-
fast" every morning. Jack was a tall,
good-natured, shrewd- witted, humorous
fellow, totally unacquainted with the
meaning of the word "fear," and a worthy
foil for Mark's peculiar style of wit* It
was Jack who told several of the stories
that appear in "Roughing It" and also
was the author of the "Blue Jay" story
to which Mark devotes a whole chapter
in "A Tramp Abroad." I knew Jack
intimately during my seven years of
Nevada life and have listened many times
to his interesting recital of this and other
stories with which he used to beguile
the hours when he and Mark had nothing
else to do in Virginia City.
In introducing this story, Mark gives
the following as a sample of the comments
that led to the story. He gives the name
of Jim Barker to the story-teller and
places the scene in California: "There's
more to a blue jay than any other creature.
He has got more moods, and more dif-
ferent kinds of feelings than any other crea-
ture; and, mind you, whatever a blue-
jay feels, he can put into language. And
no mere commonplace language, either,
but rattling out-and-out book talk —
and bristling with metaphor, too — just
bristling. And as for command of lan-
guage— why, you never see a blue jay get
stuck for a word. No man ever did. They
just boil out of him. And another thing:
I have noticed a good deal, and there's
no bird, or cow, or anything that uses
as good grammar as a bluejay. You
may say a cat uses good grammar. Well,
a cat does — but you let a cat get excited
once; you let a cat get to pulling fur
with another cat on a shed, nights, and
you'll hear grammar that will give you
the lockjaw. Ignorant people think it
is the noise which fighting cats make that
is so aggravating, but it ain't so; it's
the sickening grammar that they use. Now
I've never heard a jay use bad grammar
but very seldom; and when they do,
they are as ashamed as a human; they
shut right down and leave.
"You may call a jay a bird. Well,
so he is, in a measure — because he's got
feathers on him, and don't belong to no
church, perhaps; but otherwise he is
just as much a human as you be. And
I'll tell you for why. A jay's gifts and
instincts, and feelings, and interests,
cover the whole ground. A jay hasn't
got any more principle than a Congress-
man. A jay will lie, a jay will steal, a
jay will deceive, a jay will betray; and
four times out of five, a jay will go back
on his solemnest promise. The sacred-
ness of an obligation is a thing which
you can't cram into no bluejay's head.
Now, on top of all this, there's another
thing; a jay can outswear any gentleman
in the mines. You think a cat can swear.
Well, a cat can; but you give a bluejay
a subject that calls for his reserve powers
and where is your cat? Don't talk to me —
I know too much about this thing. And
there's yet another thing; in one little
particular of scolding — just good, clean,
out-and-out scolding — a bluejay can lay
over anything human or divine. Yes,
sir, a jay is everything that a man is.
A jay can cry, a jay can laugh, a jay can
feel shame, a jay can reason and plan
and discuss, a jay likes gossip and scandal,
a jay has got a sense of humor, a jay
knows when he is an ass just as well as
you do — maybe better. If a jay ain't
human, he better take in his sign, that's
all."
Two separate stories are told to account
for Mark's leaving Virginia City. His
biographer, Samuel E. Moffett, gives this
as the reason: "At that particular period
dueling was a passing fashion on the Corn-
stock. The refinements of Parisian civili-
zation had not penetrated there, and a
Washoe duel seldom left more than one
survivor. The weapons were always
Colt's navy revolvers — distance, fifteen
paces; fire and advance; six shots allowed.
Mark Twain became involved in a quarrel
with Mr. Laird, the editor of the Vir-
ginia Union, and the situation seemed
to call for a duel. Neither combatant
HOW MARK TWAIN WAS MADE
531
was an expert with the pistol, but Mark
Twain was fortunate enough to have a
second who was. The men were prac-
ticing in adjacent gorges, Mr. Laird
doing fairly well, and his opponent hitting
everything except the mark. A small
bird lit on a sage brush thirty yards
awayj and Mark's second fired and
knocked off its head. At that moment
the enemy came over the ridge, saw the
dead bird, observed the distance, and
learned from Gillis, the humorist's second,
that the feat had been performed by Mark
Twain, for whom such an exploit was
nothing remarkable. They withdrew for
consultation, and then offered a formal
apology, after which peace was restored,
leaving Mark with the honors of war.
"However, this incident was the means
of effecting another change in his life.
There was a new law which prescribed
two years' imprisonment for anyone who
should send, carry, or accept a challenge.
The fame of the proposed duel had reached
the capital, eighteen miles away, and the
governor wrathfully gave orders for the
arrest of all concerned, announcing his
intention of making an example that
would be remembered. A friend of the
duellists heard of their danger, outrode
the officers of the law, and hurried the
parties over the border into California."
The other story is as follows: "Mark
Twain made neither money nor fame with
the Comstockers. While his work was
remarkable, there were so many more
urgent things to attract attention that they
had no eyes or ears for literature. Homi-
cides of almost daily occurrence, tragic
accidents, sensations in mining develop-
ments, surging stock markets, as Sam
Davis puts it, smothered the lesser affairs
of the ledge. But, he continues, 'One
day a thing happened that changed the
whole tenor of the life of the man who
is now recognized as the dean of the
world's humorists.
" 'Clemens was standing on the corner
of C and Union streets, when a mangy
dog came up and rubbed its itching side
against Clemens' leg.
" 'Sam did not move; he merely looked
down and drawled out: "Well, if I've
become a scratching post for Steve Gillis's
dogs, I'd better hit the trail." "
Whatever led him to San Francisco,
it is known that he was gladly welcomed
by the little coterie of literary Bohemians
who were conducting the Golden Era and
had just launched, under the pilotage of
Charles Henry Webb, The Californian.
This included Bret Harte, Noah Brooks,
F. C. Ewer, Prentice Mulford, Rollin
Daggett, Macdonough Ford, Ina Cool-
brith, Charles Warren Stoddard, Joaquin
Miller, Ambrose Bierce and others.
For six months he worked under George
Barnes, the editor of the San Francisco
Morning Call. And during this period
he wrote quite a number of those shorter
sketches which were afterward published
in book form. Among these were, "Au-
relia's Unfortunate Young Man," "Con-
cerning Chambermaids," "An Under-
taker's Chat," etc. One of the most
amusing of his burlesques was after the
Pioneer's Ball in San Francisco. Follow-
ing the fashion of those writers who
describe the costumes of the ladies who
attended, he brought forth a number of
items, such as the following:
"Mrs. W. M. was attired in an elegant
pate de foie gras, made expressly for her,
and was greatly admired. Miss S. had her
hair done up. She was the center of attrac-
tion for the gentlemen and the envy of all
the ladies. Mrs. G. W. was tastefully
dressed in a tout ensemble, and was greeted
with deafening applause wherever she went.
Mrs. C. N. was superbly arrayed in white
kid gloves. Her modest and engaging
manner accorded well with the unpretend-
ing simplicity of her costume and caused
her to be regarded with absorbing interest
by everyone.
"The charming Miss M. M. B. appeared
in a thrilling waterfall, whose exceeding
grace and volume compelled the homage
of pioneers and emigrants alike. How
beautiful she was!
"The queenly Mrs. L. R. was attractively
attired in her new and beautiful false teeth,
and the bon jour effect they naturally pro-
duced was heightened by her enchanting
and well-sustained smile.
"Miss R. P., with that repugnance to
ostentation in dress which is so peculiar to
her, was attired in a simple white lace collar,
fastened with a neat pearl-button solitaire.
The fine contrast between the sparkling
vivacity of her natural optic, and the stead-
fast attentiveness of her placid glass eye,
was the subject of general and enthusiastic
remark.
"Miss C. L. B. had her fine nose elegantly
532
HOW MARK TWAIN WAS MADE
enameled, and the easy grace with which
she blew it from time to time marked her
as a cultivated and accomplished woman of
the world; its exquisitely modulated tone
excited the admiration of all who had the
happiness to hear it."
It must be confessed that this part of
his life was neither profitable to him
physically, mentally nor spiritually. While
it is heresy for me, as a Californian, to
say so, I do not think San Francisco was
ever very beneficial to Mark Twain.
In fact, no city ever was. He was never
made to reside in cities. It was all right
for him to go there once in a while to give
out what he had received and absorbed,
but his life of growth was always spent
out in the open, in the large things of
nature, like the Mississippi River, the
great country he had crossed in the over-
land stage, and the wild, desert mining
camps of Nevada and California.
It was at this time that he was seen
one day on Clay and Montgomery streets,
leaning against a lamp-post with a cigar
box under his arm. The wife of Captain
Edward Poole, a bright and witty woman,
happened to be passing by and, noticing
him, extended her hand with the saluta-
tion: "Why, Mark, where are you going
in such a hurry?"
"I'm mo-ov-i-n-g," drawled Mark, at
the same time opening his cigar-box and
disclosing a pair of socks, a pipe and two
paper collars.
His next move was to leave San Fran-
cisco and go out into the majestic grandeur
of the Sierra Nevadas. Here he came in
touch with that large life of the mines
and quaint humor of the miners which
he so graphically pictures in his first
acknowledged masterpiece, "The Jumping
Frog of Calaveras County."
Fortunately he was no more successful
in the California mines than he was in
Nevada, and it was on his return to San
Francisco that this story was written. A
well-known gentleman of San Francisco
tells how he came to write it, as follows:
"Sometime in the latter part of the
sixties I wished to see R. D. Swain, who
was then the superintendent of the mint
in this city. Bret Harte at that time was
his secretary. Upon entering the office,
I found that Mr. Swain was engaged, and
while waiting for him, Mark Twain came
into the room. Mr. Clemens had just
arrived in San Francisco from Nevada
City, where a few days before he had
witnessed the most curious jumping con-
test between two frogs, under the auspices
of their respective trainers and in the
presence of a numerous throng of spec-
tators from all the mining camps around.
While Mark Twain was telling the story,
Mr. Swain opened the door of his private
office and asked me to step inside.
"I remarked, 'Come out here, Swain,
I want you to listen to this!'
"Mr. Swain accordingly joined our
circle, and Clemens began his story anew.
The story was told in an inimitable manner,
and its auditors were convulsed with
laughter. He described the actions of
the trainers and bystanders, and used
many expressions and colloquialisms which
they had used. I think the story was more
laughable as Mr. Clemens told it to us
on that occasion than the one which
afterward appeared in print, as the say-
ings and doings of the trainers and on-
lookers were indescribably funny. When
the story was completed, Bret Harte
told Mr. Clemens, as soon as he had re-
covered a little from the laughter which
the story occasioned, and which was
immoderate, that if he would write that
account half as well as he had told it,
it would be the funniest story ever written.
Mark Twain took his advice, the story
was put into manuscript form and after-
ward printed in the Golden Era. It at-
tracted immediate attention, and has
been pronounced one of the best short
humorous stories extant."
The "Jumping Frog" at. once gained
him fame abroad as well as at home, but
the world was not yet fully awakened to
his ripening genius. The Sacramento
Union then sent him to Hawaii to describe
the country and especially the sugar
plantations. Some of his letters at this
time reveal his marvelous power of graphic
description. These letters were so success-
ful that they suggested the trip that led
to the writing of the book that at once
placed his fame where nothing could ever
disturb or shake it. Time and future
work might add to its glory and luster,
but had he written nothing but this one
HOW MARK TWAIN WAS MADE
533
book he would always have ranked as
the world's foremost humorist.
One of his best friends in San Francisco
was John McComb, who so thoroughly
appreciated Mark's literary and humorous
ability that whenever the' latter became
despondent and wished to return to his
own occupation of piloting on the Missis-
sippi, he prevailed upon him to remain
and stick to his writing.
It was through McComb that he was
sent to Hawaii and it was McComb that
urged the A Ita California to give him this
new opportunity. A great deal of promi-
nence was being given by the Eastern
and other newspapers to an excursion
that was being planned to leave New
York in a steamer named the "Quaker
City," which was to have advantages of
Consular help and letters of introduction
from the Secretary of State, etc., so that
the excursionists would be afforded privi-
leges abroad that no general American
party had yet been accorded. The upshot
was that Mark was sent on the excursion
as the correspondent of this San Francisco
paper, to which he was to write regular
letters as the trip proceeded. . These
letters were published and produced
quite a sensation. They were then made
up into the book, "The Innocents Abroad,"
which in the hands of an enterprising
publisher made a tremendous hit, over
ten thousand copies being sold the first
year.
My father must have purchased one
of these early copies, for I well remember
the occasion on which I first became
familiar with the name of Mark Twain.
I have elsewhere told the story as follows:
"It was in England, one cold winter's
night. I was stretched out on a lounge, and
near by, my father, near the blazing
open fire, half reclining in his favorite
chair — made after the style of a folding
steamer chair — was reading 'Innocents
Abroad.' Every few moments I would
hear a gentle chuckle, or a quiet laugh,
and I knew it must be something very
funny, when suddenly he dropped the
book, burst out into a loud and long-
continued strain of hearty laughter, at
the same time sitting upright and rapidly
running both hands through his hair,
as he always did when delighted or ex-
cited. And I think he was both, for as
he picked up the book and started to read
again, down it would^go, for his fit of
laughter would start'" afresh, and each
fit took several minutes to overcome."
Yet in California this book was but
one of three that were all deservedly
popular, and Clemens himself was placed
in no higher position as a humorist than
either of the authors of the two other
books. These authors were John F. Swift,
who, the year before, had issued his
"Going to Jericho," and Ross Browne,
whose books of travel, published by the
Harpers, had given him world-wide fame.
In reviewing Swift's book in one of the
earlier numbers of the Overland Monthly,
Bret Harte, whose critical judgment few
could equal, said: "Mr. John Franklin
Swift's 'Going to Jericho' is in legitimate
literary succession to Howell's 'Venetian
Life,' Ross Browne's 'Multifarious Voy-
ages' and Mark Twain's 'Holy Land
Letters.' ': (These were not yet published
in book form). "It is somewhat notable
that three of these writers are Califor-
nians, and all from .the West, with the
exception of the first, who has an intrinsic
literary merit which lifts him above
comparison with any other writer of travel.
Mr. Swift in some respects is superior."
Elsewhere a fine comparison is made
by Harte of the work of these writers
in reference to the "Sacred buildings
and canvases of Europe." He said: "A
race of good-humored, engaging icono-
clasts seem to have precipitated them-
selves upon the old altars of mankind,
and like their predecessors of the eighth
century, have paid particular attention
to the holy church. Mr. Ho wells has
slashed one or two sacred pictorial can-
vases with his polished rapier; Mr.
Swift has made one or two neat long
shots with a rifled Parrott, and Mr. Mark
Twain has used brickbats on stained-
glass windows with damaging effect.
And those gentlemen have certainly
brought down a heap of rubbish."
"The Innocents Abroad" forever deter-
mined the career of Mark Twain. But
in the meantime, while it was being
issued, Mark returned to San Francisco,
and the tide of prosperity not having yet
turned his way and money being "needed
534
HOW MARK TWAIN WAS MADE
in his business," he determined to give a
lecture. His wonderful combination of
literary ability and business sagacity
is well shown by the unique methods
which he followed to secure an audience.
The following notice appeared in the daily
papers, and was also distributed as a
circular all over the city.
HE MEETS OPPOSITION
San Francisco, June 30, 1868.
Mr. Mark Twain — Dear Sir: Hearing that
you are about to sail for New York, in the
P. M. S. S. Company's steamer of the 6th
of July, to publish a book, and learning
with the deepest concern that you propose
to read a chapter or two of that book in
public before you go, we take this method
of expressing our cordial desire that you
-will not. We beg and implore you do not.
There is a limit to human endurance.
We are your personal friends. We have
your welfare at heart. We desire to see you
prosper, and it is upon these accounts, and
upon these only, that we urge you to desist
from the new atrocity you contemplate.
Yours truly,
(Then followed a list of names of the
best-known citizens of San Francisco,
including W. H. L. Barnes, Rear- Admiral
Thatcher, Noah Brooks, Major-General
Halleck, Leland Stanford, Bret Harte,
and concludes with "and 1500 in the
steerage.")
To this he replied — and notice how
he begins it— "to the 1500 and others."
San Francisco, June 30.
To the 1500 and Others: It seems to me
that your course is entirely unprecedented.
Heretofore, when lecturers, singers, actors,
and other frauds, have said that they were
about to leave town, you have always been
the very first people to come out in a card
beseeching them to hold on for just one
night more, and inflict just one more per-
formance on the public; but as soon as I
want to take a farewell benefit, you come
after me with a card signed by the whole
community and the Board of Aldermen
praying me not to do it. But it isn't of any
use. You cannot move me from my fell
purpose. I will torment the people if I
want to. I have a better right to do it
than these strange lecturers and orators
that come here from abroad. It only costs
the public a dollar apiece, and if they can't
stand it, what do they stay here for? Am I
to go away and let them have peace and
quiet for a year and a half, and then come
back and only lecture them twice? What
do you take me for?
No, gentlemen, ask of me anything else,
and I will do it cheerfully; but do not ask
me not to afflict the people. I wish to tell
them all I know about Venice. I wish to
tell them about the City^ of the Sea— that
most venerable, most brilliant, and proudest
Republic the world has ever seen. I wish
to hint at what it achieved in twelve hundred
years, and what it cost in two hundred. I
wish to furnish a deal of pleasant informa-
tion, somewhat highly spiced, but still
palatable, digestible, and eminently fitted
for the intellectual stomach. My last lecture
was not as fine as I thought it was, but I
have submitted this last discourse to several
able critics, and they have pronounced it
good. Now, therefore, why should I with-
hold it?
Let me talk only just this once, and I will
sail positively on the 6th of July, and stay
away until I return from China — two years.
Yours truly,
MARK TWAIN.
This letter immediately called forth
further
OMINOUS PROTESTS
San Francisco, June 30. -
Mr. Mark Twain: Learning with profound
regret that you have concluded to postpone
your departure until the 6th of July, and
learning, also, with unspeakable grief, that
you propose to read from your forthcoming
book, or lecture again before you go, at the
New Mercantile Library, we hasten to beg
of you that you will not do it. Curb this
spirit of lawless violence, and emigrate at
once. Have the vessel's bill for your passage
sent to us. We will pay it. Your friends,
Pacific Board of Brokers,
Wells, Fargo & Co.,
The Merchants' Exchange,
Pacific Union Express Co. ,
The Bank of California,
Ladies' Co-operative Union,
S. F. Olympic Club,
Cal. Typographical Union.
San Francisco, June 30.
Mr. Mark Twain — Dear Sir: Will you
start, now, without any unnecessary delay?
Proprietors of the Alta, Bulletin, Times,
Call, Examiner, Figaro, Spirit of the Times,
Dispatch, News-Letter, Golden City, Golden
Era, Dramatic Chronicle, Police Gazette, The
Californian, The Overland Monthly.
San Francisco, June 30.
Mr. Mark Twain — Dear Sir: Do not delay
your departure. You can come back and
lecture another time. In the language of _ the
worldly, you can "cut and come again."
Your friends, THE CLERGY.
San Francisco, June 30.
Mr. Mark Twain — Dear Sir: You had
better go. Yours,
THE CHIEF OF POLICE.
DEFIANCE TO ALL
The climax of his "innocence" is reached
in confounding the preparation for cele-
HOW MARK TWAIN WAS MADE
535
brating the "Fourth of July," with a
public demonstration over himself. It
was only "unavoidably delayed":
San Francisco, June 30.
Gentlemen: Restrain your emotions; you
observe that they cannot avail. Read:
NEW MERCANTILE LIBRARY
_ BUSH STREET _
THURSDAY EVENING, JULY 2, 1868
ONE NIGHT ONLY
FAREWELL LECTURE OF
HARK TWAIN
SUBJECT
The Oldest of the Republics,
Past and Present
BOX OFFICE OPEN WEDNESDAYS *ND THURSDAYS
/ED SEATS
ADMISSION
ONE DOLLAR
DOORS OPEN AT 7
ORGIES COMMENCE AT 8 P. M.
"The public displays and ceremonies proposed to
Ive fitting eclat to the occasion have been unavoidably
elayed until the Fourth. The lecture will be delivered
certainly on the 2nd and the event will be celebrated
two days afterward by a discharge of artillery on the
Fourth, a procession of citizens, the reading of the
Declaration ol Independence, and by a glorious display
of fireworks from Russian Hill in the evening, which I
have ordered at my sole expense, the cost amounting to
eighty thousand dollars.
AT THE NEW MERCANTILE LIBRARY, BUSH ST.
THURSDAY EVENING, JULY 2, 1868
It is hardly necessary to add that the
lecture was a success, financially.
Noah Brooks, in The Century, has this
to say of Mark's lecture:
"Mark Twain's method as a lecturer was
distinctly unique and novel. His slow, de-
liberate drawl, the anxious and perturbed
expression of his visage, the apparently
painful effort with which he framed his sen-
tences, and above all, the surprise that
spread over his face when the audience
roared with delight or rapturously applauded
the finer passages of his word-painting, were
unlike anything of the kind they had ever
known. All this was original. It was Mark
Twain."
From this time on fame and fortune
smiled upon him, except on the one occa-
sion, when, through no fault of his own,
his publishing firm failed and left him a
legacy of a heavy debt. His heroic
shouldering of that debt and final payment
of it stands side by side with the like
heroic achievements of Sir Walter Scott.
His lecturing in San Francisco proved
to be so successful that he was prevailed
upon in 1873 to give a week's lectures in
England under the management of George
Dolby, who had managed Charles Dickens'
lecture tour in America. The lectures
were given in the Queen's Concert Hall,
Hanover Square, and met with immediate
and unbounded success. The engage-
ment was prolonged, with the under-
standing that there was to be a brief
interval to allow Mark to return to America
with his wife.
In the meantime the first week's work
was drawing increasingly large audiences,
and London was going wild over the
lectures of the man whose "Innocents
Abroad" had so tickled their risibles.
During this very week Charles Warren
Stoddard, one of his oldest San Francisco
friends, reached London, sent to England as
a special correspondent by the San Fran-
cisco Chronicle, and the day after his
arrival, as he walked down the Strand,
whom should he meet but Mark Twain?
Mark seized him effusively, and scarcely
had their friendly salutations been passed
before Mark began to pour out his tale
of woe. He was giving these lectures;
they were financially successful ; he needed
the money and, therefore, was compelled
to return to give them. But — and here
he became almost frantic. His wife gone,
he would be all alone in a great and strange
city, and he would go crazy with the
burden of homesickness that was falling
upon him. The sight of his friend had
suggested a relief to his woes. There
was a clear way out of his difficulties.
Charley must come and be his secretary,
his companion, his anything, so that
they could be together and Mark thus
lose his homesickness. In vain Stoddard
pleaded his contract with the Chronicle.
"Never mind the Chronicle. Let them
wait a while. I'll pay you as much or
more than they, and all you will have to
do will be to sit and listen to me when I
talk."
The upshot was, Stoddard finally con-
sented, and when Mark returned the
two took up their quarters at the Lang-
ham, the well-known London hotel. Here
they were very comfortably located, but
536
HOW MARK TWAIN WAS MADE
Mark's peculiar nervousness used to begin
to manifest itself every night about six
o'clock. He must get ready. They must
hurry up or they would be late. Why,
why, wasn't Charley ready? At dinner,
there was no pleasure in eating, as a few
moments' delay longer than he expected,
after giving the order, made Mark frantic.
Long before necessary, Mark insisted upon
starting for the hall, and as Charley said:
"I had a most uncomfortable time
until I saw Mark walking onto the stage,
while the audience clapped its welcome
to Mark's invariable habit of washing
his hands with invisible soap and water.
As soon as he began with his 'Ladies and
gentlemen,' I was content, and used to
go quietly under the platform by a secret
stairway to the Queen's own box, which
was never used for any other person.
It was, therefore, always kept closed with
heavy velvet curtains, and, as there were
plenty of cushions, I used to put them
in order, stretch out and go to sleep, rest-
ing peacefully in the assurance that the
clapping of hands of the audience at the
close of the lecture would awaken me.
Then, while Mark chatted with the
audience and wrote his autograph in the
albums of the young ladies, I would hurry
back to the stage and be ready, when he
was, to go to our hotel.
"There, with chairs wheeled up to
the fire, with pipes and plenty of 'Lone
Jack,' and certain bottles and glasses
on the table, we would sit and chat,
hour after hour, of things of the old
world and. the new. How the hours
flew by, marked by the bell clock of the
little church over the way! Almost im-
mediately we were seated, Mark would
say: 'Charley, mix a cocktail!' My
reply was always the same, to the effect
that I could not mix a cocktail. It re-
quired a special kind of genius which I
did not possess, and so on. But Mark
always insisted and I always yielded,
while he slipped off his dress suit and
shoes, and got into his smoking jacket
and slippers. At the first sip he invariably
twisted up his lips as though in disgust,
smelled of his glass, looked at it, held
it up between himself and the fire, and
then reproachfully gazed over toward
me: 'What have you against me, Charley,
that you concoct such an atrocious mix-
ture as this? Of all the blim-flimmed,
hoggelty-poggelty, swish-swash I ever
drank, this is the worst. I'll have to mix
another to take the taste of this out of
my mouth.'
"Yet he always drank the whole of
what I had mixed — except, of course,
what fell into my glass — and after we
had had one of his mixing, and had chatted
for an hour or so, I had to mix another.
He complained of this — and drank it —
and then mixed one himself to take
away the taste of mine, and so it went
on. One — two — three in the morning,
chimed on a set of holy bells, and still
we sat by the sea-coal fire and smoked
numberless peace-pipes, and told droll
stories, and enjoyed our seclusion.
"But there is a limit to the endurance
of even a human owl, and I finally would
get sleepy. And the funny thing was
that the moment I began to get sleepy
and talk of going to bed, Mark grew lone-
some, homesick and lachrymose. As I
undressed he would come and chat in
my bedroom; as I got into bed he would
sit down on my bedside, and by this
time he had worked himself up into a fit
of pessimistic depression which invariably
took one turn. It was to the effect that
he could clearly see ahead to a time when
he could write no more, could not lecture,
and then what 'would he and his family
do for a living? There was nothing for it'
— tears — 'Charley, but the poorhouse.'
He could see that clearly enough, he
would have to die in the poorhouse.
"To comfort him was impossible, and,"
said Mr. Stoddard, "I used to go to sleep
night after night with that wail of woe
in my ears — that Mark would die in the
poorhouse.
"At last his engagement concluded in
London, and we went here and there
in the provinces, and finally reached
Liverpool. We had a great night there.
He was to sail the next day. Dolby
(his manager) had been with us all the
time, but had to leave that night for
London, where he had a score of urgent
matters demanding his attention. So
I was left alone to see Mark off. That
night we made ourselves as comfortable
as we could in the hotel, but instead of
HOW MARK TWAIN WAS MADE
53*7
having a gay parting night, his doleful
forebodings seemed worse than ever. I
got into bed, as usual, and Mark came
and sat by my side, and I was just about
to drop off to sleep when, with a vigor and
vim he seldom used, he sprang up and
exclaimed: 'No, by George, I'll not die
in a poorhouse. I'll tell you what I'll
do, Charley, I'll teach elocution!'
"This awoke me, and I made some
comment, when he broke in upon me
and asked, 'Ever hear me read, Charley?'
I answered 'No!' He then rang the bell
and when the night watchman appeared,
he asked in a most solemn voice, yet
using words scarcely applicable to the
sacred character of the book, for a copy
of the Holy Scriptures. In a few minutes
the boy returned, saying that he could
not find a copy. Mark turned upon him
with a mock ferocity that was as funny
as anything he ever said in public, or
wrote, and in apparent temper, wanted
to know what he meant by daring to
come and tell him that in that blankety-
blank hotel he could not find a copy of the
blankety-blank Holy Scriptures.
"In amazement, the boy returned to the
search and soon came back with a copy
of the desired book, and then, for over
an hour, I lay as one entranced. You
know, I have heard all the dignitaries
of the Roman and English churches. I
have listened to the great orators of
Europe and America, but never in my
life did I hear anyone read so perfectly,
so beautifully, so thrillingly as Mark
read that night. He gave me the whole
of the book of Ruth, and half the time
never looked at the page; and then some
of the most exquisite passages of the
book of Isaiah. Few people knew it,
but he was more familiar with the Bible,
and loved it better, than many of the
professional religionists who would have
deemed him far from a follower of its
holy precepts."
This is the real version of Mr. Stod-
dard's story. He gives a briefer, a slightly
different, and a fully expurgated one in
his chapter, "A Humorist Abroad," in
his "Exits and Entrances."
It was to his friendship with Charles
Warren Stoddard, the California poet
and litterateur, that the world owes one
of the finest pieces of biography ever
written and certainly Mark Twain's
masterpiece, from a literary standpoint.
I refer to his "Joan of Arc." I have told
the story elsewhere and cannot repeat
it here, but it seems to me that the Ameri-
can people have not yet arisen to the might
and power of this wonderful story. In it
Mark has put all the passion and power
of his life. It is the sweetest, tenderest,
most sympathetic, appreciative and yet
sane and forceful piece of writing he ever
did, and it gives one such a vivid picture
of Joan of Arc that, forever, after reading
the book, she stands forth to the reader
as one of the illuminated personalities
of literature, as well as of the world's
history. If you have time to read but one
book through this year, let that book
be "Joan of Arc."
Hence it will be seen that Mark Twain
really began his literary life in California.
It was a Californian who prevented his
leaving the field of letters, when, dis-
heartened with his want of success in San
Francisco, he wished to desert it. It
was San Franciscan friendship that gained
him the opportunities which enabled him
to "make good" to the world of literature
and established his fame. It was Cali-
fornia and the great West that filled his
soul with that large, vast, wide compre-
hension of things that has given his humor
so broad a philosophy. It was California
that first assured him of a welcome on the
lecture platform, and it was Californian
influence that, when all others had failed
to encourage him to try serious work,
finally overcame all obstacles and pointed
out the way for the creation of his literary
and biographical masterpiece to which I
have so imperfectly and inadequately
referred.
21 Draper for tfje
OGOD, since Thou hast laid the little children
into our arms in utter helplessness, with no
protection save our love, we pray that the
sweet appeal of their baby hands may not be in
vain. Let no innocent life in our city be quenched
again in useless pain through our ignorance and sin.
May we who are mothers or fathers seek eagerly
to join wisdom to our love, lest love itself be deadly
when unguided by knowledge. Bless the doctors
and nurses, and all the friends of men, who are
giving of their skill and devotion to the care of
our children. If there are any who were kissed by
love in their own infancy, but who have no child
to whom they may give as they have received,
grant them such largeness of sympathy that they
may rejoice to pay their debt in full to all children d5
who may have need of them.
Forgive us, our Father, for the heartlessness
of the past. Grant us great tenderness for all
babes who suffer, and a growing sense of the
divine mystery that is brooding in the soul of
every child. Amen.
WALTER RAUSCHENBUSCH.
Author of "For God and the People: Prayers of the Social Awakening."
TkeKLUW&e
EUENTE was born for the break-
ing of hearts, and his natural
gifts were enhanced by his pro-
fession. As a matador alone he
would have found favor in many eyes.
The most famous matador in all Spain,
who had slain many bulls before the King,
and the handsomest man in all Andalusia
to boot, his conquests were unnumbered.
Senoras high, and senoritas humble, hung
upon his glances and prayed for his success
at many shrines.
La Imperio, the daring gypsy with the
green-gray eyes, prayed at no shrine, but "
her love for Fuente was none the less
ardent. As a child she had left her cave
home at Granada, and wandered with
her parents to Seville; there, while selling
flowers in the street, she had known
Fuente. Now things were changed. Great
crowds came nightly to the music hall in
Madrid, where she danced; hidalgos pur-
sued her madly, and artists fought for the
privilege of painting her picture. But she
could not forget that Fuente had been
indifferent to her attractions and had mar-
ried another. La Imperio's pride was
piqued.
Fuente now had a charming wife. They
had come from Seville and settled in
Madrid, and he was to appear at the royal
bull-fight in honor of the young king's
wedding. The finest bulls in all Andalusia
had been secured. In the midst of the
excitement that pervaded the city, Eulalia
was sad and troubled. For once she was
fearful for her husband, and begged him
to give up Los Toros.
"It is surely not too late," she pleaded,
"This time something strange is going to
happen."
"This is the royal bull-fight; it is im-
possible to give it up," answered Fuente
impatiently, with a shrug of his broad
shoulders. "You are so superstitious!
Don't let your fancies get the better of
you," and he put his finger to the side of
his nose and smiled at Eulalia.
As Eulalia walked away into the court-
yard of their house she said simply: "I
will pray for you tomorrow, Fuente, and
after Los Toros you will find me in the
bull-fighters' chapel."
Fuente himself had sometimes thought
of ending his bull-fighting days, cutting
off his queue, and settling down, but found
it hard to give up the admiration he re-
ceived in the ring. He enjoyed the thrill
of danger, and afterwards the applause
of the people, as in wild delight they
tossed him their hats and cigars. At
those moments his black eyes flashed in
triumph, and the even rows of white teeth
gleamed behind his smiling lips. Like
all matadors, he was daring and vain;
though he swore and gambled, he was
religious.
But, if at times he had thought of
passing the rest of his life quietly on a
little hacienda in Andalusia with his
Eulalia, no such dream could find lodgment
for an instant in his brain on such a day
as this. Impossible! Th,is was to be the
crowning triumph of his career. All the
Grandees of Spain, and even the young
King and his English Queen would be
there. No one but Fuente must slay the
bravest of the bulls.
Eulalia sat mending Fuente's gorgeous
matador's jacket and cappa of rich purple
and gold in the little patio, where the
warm perfume of the sweet flowers sur-
rounded her, and the music of a trickling
fountain and the buzzing of many insects
were heard. But Eulalia was weeping.
She loved Fuente, and she did not wish
him to fight any more at Los Toros. Her
thoughts went back to the first time she
saw Fuente, outside the bull ring in Seville
by the Guadalquivir, on a brilliant Easter
(539J
540
THE KISS AND THE QUEUE
Sunday. He and his friend, El Chico,
were talking to a pretty young gypsy girl
with green-gray eyes, who was selling
flowers.
Of a sudden Eulalia smiled bitterly, as
with a start, she recalled that the same
gypsy girl had lately come to Madrid and
was dancing in a music hall. She wondered
if Fuente had often been to watch La
Imperio in the famous fandango.
Then her thoughts wandered to the
time when she had visited the gypsies in
their white-washed caves at Granada,
before her marriage, when she had had her
fortune told by a garrulous old woman
whose palm she had crossed with silver.
With mysterious signs, the fortune teller
had offered some well-worn cards for her
to cut and had bade her make a wish.
Eulalia's wish had been to meet Fuente.
While the old woman had cut and re-cut
the cards and had laid them out, the bold,
hard-faced gypsy girls and the lying,
thieving gypsy men had stood around to
listen. Bright copper pans gleaming upon
the walls had reflected the firelight upon
dark faces, flashing black eyes, and sin-
ister glances. It was a weird sight that
Eulalia had never been able to forget.
"I see a handsome, dark man coming
into your life in the near future," mumbled
the gypsy. "There is opposition to him
in your family. Danger is connected with
his life — see the card with the dagger —
and adventure — the card with the lantern.
You will have money — there is the bag
of gold — but beware of the eye, for the
eye means jealousy." Then, in her most
impressive manner, she concluded: "I
tell you true; at a Royal Bull Fight, some-
thing curious will happen which will
concern you and the man you will marry,
and a gypsy will have a hand in it."
After seeing Fuente outside the bull-
ring at Seville, Eulalia had sent him a
note one day at Los Toros, while her
mother was not looking. The matador
had sought her out and walked up and
down in front of her window, and she had
thrown notes to him. The end of it was
that one night she escaped from the
house, and together they went to the
priest and were married. They had been
happy, though her father, Don Ambrozio,
had never quite forgiven her. No wonder
Eulalia had been frightened and had often
warned Fuente, for the fortune had al-
ready come true in great measure.
II
All Madrid was en fete. Tapestries
and bunting draped the balconies, flags
and electric lights in many designs hung
across the crowded streets. Shop windows
displayed their most attractive goods;
restaurants were thronged, and voices
were calling lottery tickets and news-
papers for sale. The populace were eager
to see their young sovereigns. Their
curiosity was to be gratified. The royal
family was to drive to Los Toros in semi-
state.
The scene was a gay one. The royal-
ties in open landaus with four horses and
outriders were followed by carriages with
foreign princes and diplomats. The ladies
wore their best white lace mantillas and
high shell combs, with carnations in red
and yellow, and carried the mantons de
Manila. The bull-ring became a blossom-
ing garden.
Fuente had repaired to the arena early
in the afternoon, to take part in the grand
procession that should open Los Toros.
In the excitement of the hour, Eulalia's
fears were driven from his mind. He was
cool and clear-headed, sure of himself,
keenly alive to the splendor of the scene.
He watched the Queen take her seat by
the King's side in the royal box, and he
noted with interest that, as she waved the
white scarf for the bull-fight to begin, her
self-possession never failed.
Three superb enameled coaches were
then driven into the ring, bearing Grandees
of Spain, their coachmen and footmen in
wigs, cocked hats, and knee breeches.
Each carriage was drawn by two horses
in soft old colored trappings with nodding
ostrich plumes on their heads. The
Grandees alighted before the royal box,
and with low bows presented others
dressed as knights of old. Then followed
the swaggering toreros, resplendent in
brilliant costumes. The matadors, the
cappas, the picadors, the banderilleros,
and the mule drivers, bowed low as they
passed.
There was a murmur of admiration.
What a wonderful sight! Nothing had
THE KISS AND THE QUEUE
541
been seen like it for generations. It was
the splendor of Charles the Fifth.
The first bull-fight was given in old
Spanish style. The pen opened, and a
wild black bull came proudly in amid
cheers. Two Grandees on beautiful, spir-
ited horses and dressed as knights, circled
around him, and stuck in slight picks
which broke half way and were left in
his shoulder. It was so cleverly done
that the bull's horns never struck the
lively horses; the bull, poor beast, after a
brave fight sank upon his knees in ex-
haustion. He had been teased and worried
until his proud spirit was broken. Then
with one skilful lunge of the matador's
sword he fell dead, and the populace
loudly applauded.
After the old Spanish style, came the
bull-fight of today. This second bull,
entering with a mad rush, was easily enticed
by a cappa toward a poor decrepit horse
wearing blinders and stupefied with mor-
phine. As the bull charged the horse,
the picador thrust his pick into the ani-
mal's shoulder. Then the furious creature
in a frenzy of rage drove his sharp horns
again and again into the miserable horse,
until he fell writhing to the earth.
No firecrackers were needed for this
bull. Amid great cheering, he chased
the toreros until they were forced to jump
over the barrier. In his fury he killed
five horses; he was becoming exhausted,
and his end was near. Fuente was to
have dispatched him. But Fuente had
not appeared. Instead came his friend,
El Chico, who slew the bull with one
stroke of his sword. Where was Fuente?
everyone inquired.
Well, where was Fuente? The last
seen of him, he was standing with the other
matadors watching the fight, just outside
the enclosure where the picadors sat their
horses and waited their turn to go inside.
His eyes were gleaming with excitement
and eagerness for combat. Forgotten
was the little hacienda in Andalusia, for-
gotten even was Eulalia, for the moment.
And completely, utterly forgotten, was
La Imperio, the gypsy with the green-
gray eyes. It was only when he heard his
name and turned to see her standing there
beside him that he recalled her existence.
"Why, it's La Imperio, the dancer 1"
he said good-naturedly, and turned again
to watch the fight, though the others found
much to admire in her slim, lithe figure
and her flashing eyes. La Imperio stamped
her foot.
"Look at me, Fuente!" she exclaimed;
"do you remember me?"
"Never mind him, Imperio," cried the
men, "he thinks of no one but his senora
nowadays. Give us a dance while we're
waiting, that's a beauty!" There was
a wicked little dare-devil look in the
gypsy's eyes as she threw one bold glance
at Fuente.
She had not forgotten the days in Seville,
when, though she was only a child, she
had thought she loved Fuente with a
great passion. Even then he was the
handsome idol of the people. He was the
first man for whom she had ever cared,
and although she had seen him but a few
times, and had had many lovers since, she
could not forget his preference for the
pretty Eulalia, whom he had afterwards
married. Since then she had seen him
in the dance hall in Madrid once, and' only
once, and he had not shown her any atten-
tion. She had bided her time, but a little
voice within her had called "Revenge!
Revenge!"
"Oh, yes, I'll dance for you," she cried
to the men, and without more ado began
the fandango while they clapped their
hands in time as she sang and danced.
While she swayed from side to side they
cried, "Hola! Hola!" and the noise grew
louder and louder as she moved her lithe
hips and snake-like arms, stamped her
little feet, and shook her head till the
carnation dropped from behind her ear
and the curls began to fall about her
shoulders. Then with a clapping of her
hands, first together, and then on her
knees, she struck off Fuente's hat amid
cheers of admiration from them all.
Fuente had then turned impatiently.
It was almost time to enter the ring.
The bull was weakening. "Give me the
hat, Imperio," he demanded. The girl
came very near and reaching up placed
it with both hands upon his head. Very
naturally and so softly her hands then
slipped about his neck, and her crimson
lips touched his while her eyes narrowed
to green slits. There was a quick move-
542
LITTLE BOY BLUE
ment, a sharp click, and La Imperio ran,
calling back as she disappeared in the
crowd outside, "Ah, but a hat isn't every-
thing, Fuente! A matador must have a
queue if he have a hat or no. As well a
bull without horns as a bull-fighter with-
out a queue!" Fuente's queue lay at
his feet upon the ground.'
There was a moment of such silence
that they could hear the hoarse breathing
of the laboring bull outside. Then the
men, jealous perhaps that they had not
been favored by the dancer, turned upon
him with laughs and jeers. A matador
without a queue! Ho-ho! Was ever such
a joke?
Crazed and maddened as any bull,
Fuente rushed down the street, carrying
the precious bit of hair. Suddenly he
realized that he was before the bull-
fighters' chapel, and then he remembered
Eulalia was there. In the dim light be-
fore the altar, Fuente found her praying
for him. He knelt and told her the story.
She looked at him suspiciously for a mo-
ment, clenching her fist. "I always knew
Imperio was a little devil," she muttered.
"Now my Los Toros days are over we
will buy the hacienda and settle in Anda-
lusia," sighed Fuente. "After all, that is
what you have always wanted."
So together they went up to the altar,
and hung the black queue on the wall
among the offerings of silver hearts and
crutches, while the beautiful Madonna
in her golden crown and silken robes
looked down on them from the halo of
lighted candles about her head. And
somehow they both felt that she had
given them her benediction.
LITTLE BOY BLUE
By RICHARD HENRY LEALE
T ITTLE Boy Blue, come blow your horn;
*-• The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn!"
"I've blown the horn, daddie, I've blown loud and clear,
But the sheep and the cow won't hearken nor hear!"
"Blow it again, laddie, blow it again,
Till the cow's in the pasture, the sheep's in the pen!"
II
Little Boy Blue is old and gray;
The dear child joys are far away;
But oft in the years when men faltered and fell,
He heard the swift warning he knew so well:
"The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the com;
Little Boy Blue, blow, blow your horn!"
"But daddie, but daddie, I've blown loud and strong,
And the cow and the sheep won't hurry along!"
"Blow the horn, laddie dear, blow, blow away,
"For the God of the pasture, he knoweth the day!"
CHILDREN'S CENTENNIAL PAGEANT
By THE EDITOR
I IKE a conquering army mustered the
*— ' school children of the first city ever
named after the Father of His Country
in an inspiring celebration held to com-
memorate the municipal centennial at
Washington, Pennsylvania, during the
early autumn. My arrival was timely,
for it was Education Day — a procession
of four thousand school children was al-
ready on its way down the crowded
avenues and through the triumphal arch.
Proudly the young Americans, girls and
boys alike, marched with elastic steps,
chins up, heads erect; for was not this
their parade and this day their very own?
Something of the stern dignity of colonial
days was curiously reflected in the mien
of these descendants of Revolutionary
worthies.
On the curbs lining the street, doting
fathers and mothers tried to attract the
attention of Tommie, Freddie, Willie
and Winona as they passed by, calling
out their names; but ' 'marching orders"
not to look to right nor left, but directly
ahead, were followed with Spartan stead-
fastness. Many of the children were
attired in colonial costume of buff and
blue, going back to the days of General
Washington — for they feel in the little
city that the memory of Washington
belongs especially to them, the people of
"the first city of Washington," named
after the illustrious first President of the
Republic.
College boys from the Washington and
Jefferson University, college girls from
the Washington Seminary, and pupils of
the parochial and public schools, were
gathered along the way. Cheering through
megaphones with lusty college yells almost
brought one back to his own schooldays
of long ago.
On the grandstand, great throngs
assembled to witness the parades of the
week. Following the beautiful parade on
Education Day, an Industrial Parade
presented many interesting features, not
the least inspiring of which was the march
of the Grand Army veterans, bearing the
rent and shot-scarred banner which had
been usent forth in billowy waves and
brilliant silk in the early days of the Civil
War, and now, dim and tattered, was
MISS MINNIE B. FLEMING
Headquarters secretary of the
Washington (Pa.) Centennial
J. A. BOLLMAN
Who had charge of the Washington
(Pa.) Centennial
WILLIAM KRICHBAUM
Superintendent of the Schools of
Washington, Pa.
544
CHILDREN'S CENTENNIAL PAGEANT
Flag drill
CENTENNIAL EDUCATIONAL DAY PARADE
greeted all along the line of march with
waving flags and hearty applause.
It was indeed a re-union as well as a
commemoration. From all parts of the
country men who had been scattered to
the four quarters of the earth had re-
turned home for the Centennial Week,
to meet relatives and early friends and
join in the festivities. They
found a remarkable develop-
ment along industrial and
educational lines, and visited
again the dear old college, the
pride of the town.
The celebration was cer-
tainly a splendid incarnation
of the sterling patriotism and
municipal pride of the citizens
of Washington, Pennsylvania.
The details of the celebration
were in charge of Mr. J. A.
Bollman, the famous "Booster
Man," and his secretary, Miss
Minnie B. Fleming, who for
months had been making all
the preparations that Cen-
tennial Week might be an
unquestioned success, and
indeed so it was, for every
detail was carried out with
military precision.
One of the greatest delights
of my life is to visit cities
like the earliest Washington,
where a neighborly spirit and
devotion to the public welfare
are working together for the
common good. The splendid
work done by the newspapers,
and the aggressive and united
citizenship made this indeed
a memorable occasion, and
furnished a most striking
example of what can be ac-
complished when "everybody
pulls together."
A memorable night spent
in the old dormitory of Wash-
ington and Jefferson College
was punctuated by frequent
waking intervals as the col-
lege lads serenaded beneath
the windows, alive with the
buoyant spirit of youth, and
loyal to their alma mater and
their home city, "the first Washington,"
with that fraternal PA., always added with
splendid emphasis.
The scene on the old campus, where,
following the parade, the children gathered
in battalions of white, adorned with red,
white and blue ribbons, singing the n a-
tional anthem, brought the singing leave s
OUR COUNTRY 545
of the old Arabian story to mind, and will aviation meet, one of the best in the
never be forgotten; nor will the ride about country — where Brookins broke all his
the country, among the old farms, long previous records in spiral descents — all will
famous for their yield of wool when sheep furnish flashlights in memory of an event
were driven to tide-water on the hoof by which will be talked about at Washington
the sturdy pioneers; nor the beautiful for many generations to come, and which
homes on the undulating hills, clustering has made Washington, Pennsylvania, a
around the million-dollar Court House, city whose celebration of her past illumin-
the pride of the county. The great glass ates anew the love of the people of the
works, where Mason fruit jars were first Keystone State for the memory of the
made by machinerv; the tube works; the Father of His Country.
OUR COUNTRY
By EDNA DEAN PROCTOR
(")UR COUNTRY! whose eagle exults as he flies
^ In the splendor of noonday broad-breasting the skies,
That from ocean to ocean the Land overblown
By the winds and the shadows is Liberty's own —
We hail thee! we crown thee! To east and to west
God keep thee the purest, the noblest, the best,
While all thy domain with a people He fills
As free as thy winds and as firm as thy hills !
Our Country! bright region of plenty and peace,
Where the homeless find refuge, the burdened release,
Where Manhood is king, and the stars as they roll
Whisper courage and hope to the lowliest soul, —
We hail thee! we crown thee! To east and to west
God keep thee the purest, the noblest, the best,
While all thy domain with a people He fills
As free as thy winds and as firm as thy hills!
Our Country! whose story the angels record —
Fair dawn of that glorious day of the Lord
When men shall be brothers, and love, like the sun,
Illumine the earth till the nations are one —
We hail thee! we crown thee! To east and to west
God keep thee the purest, the noblest, the best,
While all thy domain with a people He fills
As free as thy winds and as firm as thy hills!
Copyright, 1905. by Edna Dean Proctor
The Ribk^Car^
oP
'LjGEl
^ l^fesrSTlt
HIGE TAYLOR had one accom-
plishment which was pleasing
in the eyes of white men. He
could whistle like a steamboat
— not like the lazy, deep-voiced boats
that crawl up the winding Cuyahoga, but
in a mellow, twin-toned treble, dying
away plaintively in the recesses of his
throat, like the whistles of the river boats
on his native Mississippi.
"Good boy! Do it again," some fat
grandee would cry; and 'Lige would drag
back and forth across the tiled floor of
the barber shop, one foot slapping like
the paddle-wheel of the steamer, the
while his comically misshapen body swayed
to and fro, and his thick lips puckered
for the treble whistle.
Sometimes the grandee would remember
him with a dime, when the long whisk
broom in 'Lige's hands had skilfully done
its duty; or, it might be, that during the
ceremonies of shave and hair-trim, with
a possible shampoo, a pair of fashionably
cut shoes might be extended for polishing.
This, also, meant a dime — occasionally
a quarter, which 'Lige Taylor spat upon
for luck and transferred to his hip-pocket.
When the patrons of the barber shop
were absent for a time, he would resur-
rect the hoard thus buried, and apostro-
phize it with affection:
"Ah 11 sho'ly need yo' all when ah begin
ma public life."
It was not the affection of a miser. It
might rather be called the ambitious
sentiment of a Bonaparte or a Caesar,
who saw before him future worlds to
conquer, and recognized in the painfully
gathered coins a necessity in the conquest.
'Lige's plans were as definitely laid as
those of either of these potentates. Hasty
comers into the barber shop often sur-
prised him perusing a large, dingy book,
which he clapped away into a drawer
before its title could be discovered; or
sometimes it was a notebook, on which
he was scrawling strange hieroglyphics,
outlandish to the uninitiated, but wonder-
fully neat and workmanlike to those who
understood. In time, one of the grandees,
who had risen from a more humble sta-
tion, surprised his secret, and inquired
wonderingly:
"Where did you learn Pitman's short-
hand?"
"Ah learned it right heah, suh," 'Lige
replied, with reluctance. "Ah learned it
out'n a book. They reads out loud some-
times"— indicating the smiling barbers —
"and ah takes them down. Ah can
get 'em — they cain't go too fast, nossuh."
The grandee was skeptical, and insisted
on reading something aloud for 'Lige
to take. He read at first very slowly,
then faster, and finally very fast. When
he had finished, the thick lips which were
so apt in imitating a steamboat whistle,
demonstrated a new facility; they read
back without a mistake all that had been
dictated. The grandee swore softly, in
astonishment; but to 'Lige he said:
"What do you mean to do with it?
Going to be a court stenographer?"
'Lige Taylor looked down at his mis-
shapen legs and long arms, and slowly
smiled.
"Ah raickon ah'd look kind of queer in
co'oat. Ah couldn't get in, nohow. Ah'm
goin' to take the Civil Service examina-
tion. If ah pass that they cain't put me
out, can they?"
He asked the question anxiously, but
the grandee shook his head.
"I don't know anything about that.
But you'll pass it."
When he returned to his office, the
grandee, who had been a shorthand writer
(546)
THE PUBLIC CAREER OF 'LIGE TAYLOR
547
himself ten years before, told his own
stenographer of the nigger who took dic-
tation as fast as a man could talk.
"Two hundred words a minute, if I
know a thing about it. And not a slip,
mind you — every word just as I gave it to
him. You must go down and see him —
four feet high or thereabouts, and all bent
up, looks as if an elephant had sat on him.
Poor devil! What an odd idea for him
to learn shorthand! He has no more
chance than a snowball in — "
He remembered, in time, that the simile
might be new to his stenographer, who was
a young lady just out of business college,
so he changed it. After that, however, he
never added less than a quarter at a time
to 'Lige's hoard; and in the course of a few
weeks he was let into the secret of a
marvelously definite plan for the future —
a plan whose one fatal defect was hidden
from its maker.
"When ah get to Washin'ton, ah'll
just nat'chly rise. Ah can run a type-
writer, yes, suh. Ah saved up and got
one with what people done give me in
heah, and ah can write mos' 's fast as a
man can walk. Ah'll be secretary to
the President, fust, lak Mr. Cortel'oo; then
ah'll be an orator, lak Willyum Jennings
Bryan. All them things takes is time. Ah
cain't talk lak white folks yet, but ah'll
learn. Yo' watch how ah get along."
The grandee watched with decided
interest. After a time he was able to
declare to his stenographer:
"That darkey can learn things faster
than anybody I ever saw. He's gone
clean through a grammar I gave him, in
three months; and he knows what's in
it. He's learning how to pronounce
words. He doesn't say 'ah' any more for
'I', and he remembers his Vs for the
most part. But, of course, it's absolutely
hopeless. Poor devil!"
This was a new stenographer, who had
been out of college two years, and was be-
coming learned in the ways of the world.
She inquired why it was absolutely hope-
less; and on being told to look at 'Lige and
see, she contrived to peep into the barber
shop, and saw. The importance of her
action, in its bearing on 'Lige Taylor's
career, is, that she agreed; and she repre-
sented the world, which passes upon every
public man's destiny. Not even genius
could offset the humor of 'Lige's body.
He was a living joke, and the fact that
nature had bunglingly put such a spirit
into his frame was likely to be regarded
by the world as the funniest feature of the
case.
It chanced that the examiner who was
conducting the Civil Service tests at that
time was a personal friend of the grandee's.
So that official was prepared beforehand
for any trial of his gravity which might be
brought about when 'Lige appeared.
Yet he went into a paroxysm which only
a thick beard and a life-long habit of
courtesy enabled him to conceal.
'Lige Taylor reported in a new suit, and
since the trousers had been made to go
with the coat, he was obliged to turn them
up almost to his knees. The sleeves were
not long enough, by four inches, but a pair
of red and white cuffs eked them out.
One of 'Lige's large hands gripped his
typewriter, an old style Caligraph, and
the other leaned on a cane which he had
brought to counterbalance the weight.
He was visibly trembling, partly from ex-
citement, and partly from the strain of
carrying his machine from the car.
By the beginning of the examination,
however, he was perfectly calm. None
of the thirty or more competitors heard
each word as it fell from the examiner's
lips more distinctly than he did. When
the speed was increased and some of the
note-takers began to drop out, none of
those who remained recorded each syllable
more neatly or more easily than he.
The examiner watched him with the
amused astonishment of a man who
observes some new and decidedly incon-
gruous phenomenon.
The typewriting test was of a kind
with the other. 'Lige transcribed his
notes without a fault. He took dictation
direct on the machine, writing by touch,
with his eyes on the examiner's face, in
a mute challenge for more speed. When
the ordeal was over and every line finished,
including the tests of grammar and hand-
writing, he picked up the heavy type-
writer again and painfully went out. He
had made the highest standing of all. He
knew it, and the examiner knew it, before
the papers were marked.
548
THE PUBLIC CAREER OF 'LIGE TAYLOR
Yo' listen to me now, while I make a speech1'
Unfortunately, however, there is a
personal element, even in a Civil Service
examination. Those that have done the
best are reported to Washington; but
when a vacancy is to be filled, choice is
made from the three or four highest.
'Lige Taylor led the others by a com-
fortable margin. It was only seven
points — but that was because the second
best competitor had, with labor and diffi-
culty, measured up to a standing^of ninety-
three. 'Lige's mark of
one hundred had been
attained easily, and had
it been possible to reg-
ister higher than that
symbol of perfection, he
could have led the next
man by fifty points. Yet
the weeks passed and he
was not appointed. One
of the avenues toward
the success he counted on
so confidently wras closed.
It was several months
after the examination
that the grandee, being
seized with some small
compunctions of consci-
ence, determined to in-
quire into 'Lige's home
life. Proceeding on in-
formation given him by
the senior one of the
smiling barbers, he
climbed three flights of
stairs in a lodging house,
and found himself out-
side a dingy door, which
was opened by 'Lige.
Now, the grandee did
not expect to be received
with enthusiasm, but he
was unprepared for hav-
ing the door shut in his
face. He contrived to
insert the toe of his shoe
just in time, or the visit
might have ended at
that stage. After an in-
effectual resistance, 'Lige
surrendered.
" 'Taint no place for
a gentleman. I didn't
want you to see it," he
explained apologetically. "You might as
well come in, though."
It was about large enough to whip a
small cat around in. Owing to a certain
inadequacy of equipment, the grandee
found that if he sat down on a chair, 'Lige
THE PUBLIC CAREER OF 'LIGE TAYLOR
549
would have to stand. So he sat on the
table, which was not much larger than
ordinary chairs, dislodging a book in order
to do so. 'Lige's bed was rolled up in a
corner, and his small oil lamp hung in-
securely on the wall. The visitor found
himself calculating that when the bed was
spread out it would be necessary to put the
chair into the hall; and even then, if 'Lige
had been of larger build, he might have
had to sleep with his head under the table.
It was an embarrassing interview, which
had for its object the making clear to
'Lige that he could never hold a political
office. The grandee explained with great
lucidity that such a position required
enormous learning and vast influence, and
that it was not to be attained by a short-
hand writer who worked in a barber shop,
however expert he might be. He said a
good deal along the same line, which was
listened to respectfully and with polite
incredulity. 'Lige's reply was a begging of
the question. The relapse into Mississippi
dialect alone betrayed his emotion.
"Ah can beat them ev'ry way yo' care
to try me. Ah beat 'em at shorthand, and
ah beat 'em at typewriting and ah beat
'em at grammar and handwritin'. When
ah begin ma public life ah '11 beat 'em at
speech -makin', too. Yo'll see, yes, suh. Yo'
listen to me now, while ah make a speech."
The grandee listened, since he could
not very well refuse, and he did well to
listen. In his time he had heard the
speeches of more than one man considered
a master in his line. He had, in fact,
heard the very words which 'Lige was re-
tailing, at second-hand, from his rostrum
on the chair; but he had not heard them
spoken in this way. He had not realized,
either, that a darkey whose speaking
voice was usually such as to attract little
attention, could in a moment transform
it into veritable organ tones of emotion.
The grandee listened, without wishing
to shorten the experience, to the "Cross of
Gold" speech, while the figure on the chair
swayed backward and forward and up and
down, as fantastically as its shadow on the
floor. Once before, the audience of one had
heard the speech; and he was obliged to
admit that William Jennings Bryan, in the
convention, had done no better.
'.Lige came to an end, at length, and
quietly got down from the chair. His
eyes were averted. He was painfully
self-conscious of a sudden while awaiting
the verdict, and the grandee, on his side,
was rather at a loss how to deliver it.
" 'Lige," he began, "you're a genius.
You've got a future. If I could do that
I'd be traveling on all the circuits in the
country, from Broadway to 'Frisco. I
have a friend who is stage manager at a
vaudeville house. I'll speak to him about
you. He knows a good thing when he sees
it. He'll take you. There won't be any-
thing to it — you can know by tomorrow."
"Yo' mean foh me to go on the stage?"
'Lige's expression was inscrutable.
"It would be the best thing you ever
did. You'd make a hit from the first
night. You simply couldn't fail. You'd
bring down the house before you said a
word. And when you tiegan to speak —
why, if I hadn't kept my eyes off you when
you were reciting that speech —
The grandee stopped, suddenly, with an
uncomfortable sense that the devil was to
pay, somehow. 'Lige Taylor had stiffly
shuffled to the door and opened it.
"Yo' mean they'd laugh at me, lak they'
do when ah make believe ah'm a steam-
boat, and whistle foh them? Yo' want
me to stand up all ma life foh people to
laugh at me? No, suh." He opened the
door to its fullest width, so that it creaked.
"Ah'm very much obliged to yo'. It's
very kind of a gentleman lak yo' to come
an' see me, but yo' misunderstood me."
The grandee hesitated a moment, then
realizing the impotence of words to atone
for his offense, he ignominiously went out.
He was not surprised when the next
morning and the mornings after it failed
to find 'Lige at the barber shop, but he
wondered what fantasy — what curious
zephyr of ambition was toying with the
misshapen darkey in the place where he
had hidden himself. And because, per-
haps, he was the only one in the world
who wondered at all about the matter,
Fate arranged for him to be present at
the great moment of 'Lige Taylor's career.
It came late on a spring afternoon.
Electric light masts were beginning to
bloom. Incandescent signs twinkled with
eulogies of the candidates at the coming
election. The candidates themselves stood
550
THE PUBLIC CAREER OF 'LIGE TAYLOR
on various rostrums distributed over the
public square, and labored to convince
their shifting audiences that the signs were
truthful. One of the orators was the
grandee. He was running for a county
office — his first bid for public life. It
was his maiden harangue, under such con-
ditions, and when he stepped down, some-
what sooner than had been his intention,
he desired to mingle with the crowd and
disappear as soon as possible. He had
almost succeeded when a violent com-
motion near the rostrum made him look
back. The speechmaking was not over.
'Lige Taylor had mounted the rostrum.
It was 'Lige — and it was not. He
wore a .black suit. The coat and trousers
fitted. The sleeves were not too short
nor the legs too long. The skill of the
tailor had somehow lessened the old, bow-
legged effect. 'Lige himself was standing
with simple dignity, his long arms behind
him where they could do the least harm,
his large head steady and erect. In the
twilight, and to the casual glance, he ap-
peared almost impressive.
The crowd was undecided whether to
laugh or cheer. A ripple ran^back and
forth across it, and gradually subsided.
Then suddenly, irresistibly, 'Lige's
crooked legs gave way a trifle; his long
arms unwound themselves from behind
him and hung in all their enormity; his
head wiggled and the lower lip drooped;
he shuffled across the platform, flapping
one foot, grunting and puffing, and he
whistled like a steamboat.
From that moment there was nothing
doubtful about it. The audience doubled
up, and straightened back and shouted.
'Lige gave none of them any time to re-
cover. He broke into a comic speech,
an Irish brogue story given with a touch of
Mississippi dialect. His voice gave it a
flavor not known before in the world. The
crowd screamed. Between gasps, business
men, who were not used to laughing above
a whisper, begged for mercy.
Then he suddenly stopped. There was
no smile in his face. He resumed the
attitude of dignity. His hands disap-
peared behind him, and he began a speech
of another kind.
The audience could do nothing but
listen. They were his for the moment fhe
could do what he liked with them. Maybe
some had heard the speech before. It
made no matter, they had not heard the
voice which gave it now. The organ
tones were there, and something more —
the indefinable appeal which distinguishes
the speech of a great orator from that of
smaller fry. It was the sort of voice that
nature gives to one man in a generation.
Those who listened to 'Lige that day per-
haps realized dimly the tremendous joke
that had been played upon him in the
Raffle-Before-Life, when he had drawn
such a combination of soul and body.
When 'Lige ended he had made the
funniest, the most pathetic, and certainly
the most incongruous speech ever delivered
from that rostrum. He still remained
motionless, looking at the crowd; listen-
ing, as if from a great distance, to the
shouts and cheers. One man in the
crowd, perhaps — the grandee — appreciated
what was passing through his mind.
He was famous at last. The impossible
had been accomplished. His public career
was begun.
Suddenly, the immensity of it all be-
came too much for him. He jumped down
from the rostrum and dove into the crowd.
Those who saw him for an instant tried
to stop him. They might as easily have
caught an eel. He vanished before their
eyes, under their noses, between their
knees.
In another moment, a great shout arose.
Something had happened. The grandee
elbowed his way toward the place where
'Lige had disappeared and when he reached
it he found a crowd around a street car,
which had stopped. They were picking up
something which had tried to dart be-
tween two cars and had been caught.
* * *
The grandee moralized a good deal on
the occurrence at the time, and now that
a few years have given him a truer per-
spective, he likes to marvel at the ingenuity
of Fate. When a man really deserves
it, he says, she usually satisfies him, in
one way or another. If he is both de-
serving and hopeless, she is put upon her
mettle. Such a man, if she wills it, she
may give a public career in ten minutes
and then mercifully cut him down, with the
cheers of success still ringing in his ears.
®raineb
By THE PUBLISHERS
HTHE "McBain Flyer" carried me to
^ the University of Missouri, at Colum-
bia. With pad and pencil in hand I was
ready to face the most successful school
of journalism ever established. After
leaving Jefferson, the capital of Missouri,
the accommodation train pulled up the
hill by jumps and spasms, and I realized
that the royal road to learning conferred
a few bumps. As from the crest of the
range I looked upon the rich green campus
of the University, where over two thousand
young men and women are receiving in-
struction, there was a suggestion of the
classic shades of learning, where the great
mind of some modern Aristotle or Plato
might be expected to appear. No wonder
that Dean Walter Williams beamed
with even more than his usual geniality,
as he received congratulations on every
side. Brusque and cynical newspaper
men, who had hitherto contended that
there was no entrance into the newspaper
profession save by the door of "hard
knocks," highly complimented the success
of his School of Journalism, in Spitzer Hall,
which is dedicated exclusively to journal-
ism. The guests included many notable
magazine and newspaper editors from all
over the country. And like an official pho-
tographer at an exposition, the man with
the camera might be heard clicking many
snapshots, as the visitors arrived and
departed.
The University Missourian, the college
daily newspaper, enables the students to
acquire material and exercise pencil and
typewriter on original contributions by
their own or the reproduction of current
news and gossip. The oval desk of the city
editor, who receives the tips, and hands
out the assignments, was piled high with all
the paraphernalia of the newspaper office
— yellow paper, paste-pot, scraps of type-
writing and print, manuscript, and bits of a
big fat, blue pencil. The clattering type-
writers were busy — the tobacco handy —
and at a glance one might see why Dean
Williams has made a success of his School
of Journalism — it is the "real thing."
Those who have known Mr. Williams have
watched his steady progress and splendid
success in newspaper work for years past.
His tireless enthusiasm in his chosen profes-
sion makes inevitable the results that
he has achieved training newspaper-
makers at the University. Among the
many prominent editors who had come
to pay their tribute to Dean Williams
were Mr. Arthur Brisbane of the New York
Journal, Dr. Albert Shaw and Dr. Rose-
water of Omaha, Will Erwin of Collier's
and Herbert Kaufman of Chicago. Charles
D. Morris of St. Joseph was there, and I
could pick out the familiar faces of a
number of the best-known newspaper and
magazine men not only in the state but
throughout the country.
The week's programme began at eight
o'clock on Monday morning, with a
lecture on news-gathering; at nine o'clock
there was a lecture on copy-reading.
These features were continued every day
with some editor or practical man in
charge of the shears and pencil, gripping
hold of matters as earnestly as a bunch
of doctors at an important medical clinic.
All the speeches were a veritable heart-
to-heart talk of members of the fraternity.
A memorable afternoon was taken up
with two addresses; one was on "The
News as the City Editor Sees it," by Wil-
liam V. Brumby, of the St. Louis Star,
and C. C. Calvert, of the St. Joseph News-
Press. These papers were discussed by
many editors present. It was a most
exhaustive and interesting debate on the
important phases of modern newspaper
work. The University provides that no
special course can be taken until the
student has been two years in the academic
departments, and tlrs insures a solid
foundation for the student who chooses
the profession of journalism before he can
(551)
552
WHERE NEWSPAPER MEN ARE TRAINED
even aspire to report a three-line society
event.
* * *
In the centre of the campus are the old
columns of the university building, which
was burned some years ago. Vines are
climbing over these stately pillars,
suggesting the classic ruins of the Coliseum
of Rome. When the university building
was burned, David B. Francis, at that
time governor of Missouri and a member
of the Board of Curators, saw to it that
the money which was paid to the state
by the national government, on war
claims, was appropriated for the re-
building of the University. It is now sup-
ported by special legislative appropria-
tions from time to time, and by the in-
heritance tax.
The University was established in 1839,
by one of the first legislative acts of the
new state of Missouri, and was located
in the following June in a single building,
which has since increased to twenty-five
separate structures, including the law
school, medicine school, laboratories and
special buildings for other departments,
such as mining and metallurgy and
journalism.
For me the thrilling experience of
my visit was reached when I was called
upon to face such an assembly as I have
seldom seen. It was no light matter to
stand before those thousands of lusty
undergraduates and tell them something
that was really new or interesting. Yes,
I felt somewhat nervous while the orches-
tra was playing — but then a curious thing
happened. When I arose, the audience
laughed — so did I — we were friends,
anyhow. They sent me a powerful wave
of encouragement when I was trying to
pick out a place to light with a climax, and
sympathy was expressed in syncopated
applause, and I swept out upon a sea of
words, realizing the truth of the French
formula of writing a love letter — begin
with knowing what you are going to say
and end without knowing what you have
said. When I found that the recitation
hour had passed, the Ciceronic talk waves
still kept flowing in from the students —
high up in the gallery and alongside in
the parquette. Native modesty finally
prevailed over the occult influence and I
managed to sit down. A more appreciative
audience never launched a speaker. They
started him off with applause that
would have been perilous had a wheel
or an adjective skidded, or had not the
audience themselves helped out just at
the right moment, with a "go-on-boy"
look. The student body seem to partake
of the spirit of the president of the Uni-
versity, Dr. A. Ross Hill, who already has
made a national reputation as a progressive
administrator and an educational leader.
His plans and their plans seemed to tally
in every notch. The University was like
a great, united family — no, you cannot
beat a united family for real results.
* * *
The college architecture, the groups of
students, the green of the campus, the jolly
spirit of college comradeship, the bright,
happy boys and girls carrying parcels of
books to and fro along the streets, the
combined atmosphere of learning and
"something new" — all recalled memories
of younger days, when life's pathway
stretched before us, and "the possible
lay all before us, ever fresh, richer than
aught that any life has owned."
The assembly oration was followed by
a serious attempt at a lecture in the even-
ing, in the handsome Agricultural Hall.
Some of the students thanked me for
taking up the time allotted for a tough
recitation. I had just comfortably
reached "secondly," when the lusty student
body-guard approached and announced
"time." It was "train time" — a dash in a
college-town-cab, a few "rah, rah's," some
hearty hand-shakes, and that delightful
visit to Columbia was over.
The School of Journalism of the Univer-
sity of Missouri is in its third successful
year, with an enrolment of over one
hundred men and women. These students
come from eleven different states of the
American union and one foreign country.
The School of Journalism of the Univer-
sity of Missouri resembles in form of or-
ganization the other professional schools
in that University. The Schools of Law,
Engineering, Medicine, Agriculture, and
particularly the School of Education af-
forded models for the organization of the
present School of Journalism which was
organized equal in rank, co-ordinate, and
WHERE NEWSPAPER MEN ARE TRAINED
553
WINIFRED BLACK, THE NOTED NEWSPAPER WOMAN, AND A GROUP OF GIRL STUDENTS
IN JOURNALISM AT THE UNIVERSITY OF MISSOURI
upon the same general plan as the schools
of training for other professions at once
gave the new department dignity and rank.
Its faculty consists of members selected
from the faculty of the College of Arts
and Science and of special members of the
faculty, giving courses in theoretical and
practical journalism. The president of
the university, Dr. Albert Ross Hill, is by
virtue of his office chairman of this as of
all the other faculties of the University of
Missouri.
While all knowledge is helpful to the
journalist, the grouping of those subjects
directly bearing upon his work has been
sought in the selection of the courses
of study which include History and
Principles of Journalism, the Ethics of
Journalism, Newspaper Making, News
Gathering, Reporting, Comparative Jour-
nalism, Copy Reading and Correspondence,
Agricultural Journalism, Magazine Making,
Advertising, the Press and Public Opinion,
Professional Terminology , Newspaper
Administration, the Editorial, Newspaper
Jurisprudence, the law of libel, and Illus-
trative Art, including cartooning. The dean
of the School of Law lectures the students
on Newspaper Jurisprudence and the pro-
fessor of Art in the" College of Arts and
Science gives the course in Illustration.
From the College of Arts and Science the
professors of History, English, Political
Science and Public Law, Sociology, Eco-
nomics, and Psychology, with the others
named constitute the entire faculty. This
does not confine the courses in journalism
to these particular subjects, but groups
and" emphasizes those which are required,
while others are elective. The faculty
thus constituted passes upon candidates
for graduation, the University of Missouri
conferring upon the graduates of the School
of Journalism the degree of Bachelor of
Science in Journalism. Five young men
and one young woman were graduated
this year from the School. After the close
of the session of 1910-1911 two years of
college work or its equivalent will be neces-
sary for enrollment in the School of Journal-
ism at the University of Missouri. This
gives a five years' course leading to both
degrees of Bachelor of Arts and Bachelor
of Science in Journalism and places the
554
WHERE NEWSPAPER MEN ARE TRAINED
requirements for graduation in journalism
as high as the requirements for graduation
in any other professional school. Walter
Williams, dean of the school and professor
of History and Principles of Journalism,
lectures on Newspaper Administration, the
Editorial Page, and Comparative Journal-
ism. Frank L. Martin, for seven years
assistant city editor of the Kansas City
DEAN WALTER WILLIAMS
Of the University of Missouri School of Journalism
Star, gives courses in News Gathering,
Newspaper Making and Reporting. Charles
Griffith Ross, for some years chief copy-
reader of the St. Louis Republic, gives
courses in Copy Reading and Correspond-
ence, Advertising and Magazine Making.
The value of this form of organization
has been demonstrated in the Schools of
Law and Medicine. It concentrates the
attention of the student upon the subjects
best adapted for professional training and
implants in the students the true profes-
sional spirit. It lends interest, emphasis,
and strength to the courses of study, and
to the organization and training of the
profession. While journalism may be, as
engineering and law have been, successfully
taught where courses are ungrouped and
separate faculties are unorganized, yet the
more effective plan is by the grouping of
studies under the direction of a responsible
faculty.
The distinctive feature of the School
of Journalism of the University of Mis-
souri is the conduct by the students, with-
out University support, of a small, but
well-balanced daily afternoon newspaper,
the University Missourian. This is a
general newspaper — not a college journal —
covering the entire news field. It is main-
tained out of its own receipts for adver-
tising and subscription, while the work
upon it, other than mechanical, is done
entirely by students in the School of
Journalism. They cover assignments,
occupy desks, edit, telegraph, exactly as
the press requires, or better, if possible,
and the paper must come out on time. In
this way actual, practical training in news-
paper-making is given. If the instruction
is faithful and efficient, the students
taking this work will certainly be better
equipped for success in journalism than
those who have not had such training.
It is not expected to make journalists any
more than a lawyer can be manufactured
in a law school or a doctor in a school of
medicine. It is expected, however, to
train for journalism by adding to the in-
tellectual attainments and resources and
the professional equipment of the students.
* * *
It has been said that journalists need
no training. The claim is made that "the
reporter, the editor is born, not made."
It is urged that there is something mys-
terious about newspaper work which only
those divinely inspired may know. This
was said formerly about lawyers and doc-
tors and preachers, and indeed the fol-
lowers of every vocation. It is no more
true of journalism than of any other oc-
cupation. He who has a pronounced
natural bent toward any particular work
will, of course, do better work than one
who is not so inclined by nature and tem-
perament. It does not Mow, however,
A SOUVENIR
555
that training is unnecessary to the highest
equipment. It is absurd to suppose that
an untrained, uneducated, unequipped
man may be as successful in journalism
as one whose training is broad, whose
knowledge is large, whose clearness of
vision has been increased, and whose
equipment in general has been enlarged
by training in a school.
If the school of journalism is also a
newspaper office, as at the University of
Missouri, it gives the best of all training
for journalism. Here the student has, in
addition to the newspaper office training,
the care and thoughtful direction of in-
structors, whose instruction is not inter-
fered with by constant interruption and
who have for their only aim the training
of -students under their charge to the'
largest usefulness. It thus helps toward
alertness, swiftness and proper self-re-
straint and effectiveness in the employ-
ment of all the resources placed at the
young journalist's command. No ob-
jection based on antipathy to an un-
practical school applies to a school con-
ducted on the laboratory plan of the
School of Journalism of the University
of Missouri.
The progress of this school since Dean
Williams was baptized with his purpose,
during the International Peace Congress,
has demonstrated the fact that newspaper-
training education is a possibility within
college walls. Here the details as to copy,
headings, punctuation and paragraphs
are given in a practical way. On the walls
of the Dean's office — where many a student
has come for that inspiration and advice
which often balanced the scales and made
another newspaper man possible — Mr.
Williams has photographs and autographs
from distinguished writers the world over,
expressing approval of the efficient work
he is doing at Columbia for the great
profession which he has signally honored.
A SOUVENIR
FOUND them in a book last night,
These withered violets:
A token of that early love
That no man e'er forgets.
Pressed carefully between the leaves,
They keep their color still,
I cannot look at them today
Without an old-time thrill.
Ah me, what tricks does memory play!
The passing years have fled,
And hopes that lived in vigor once,
Alas, have long been dead.
And this is all that I can say,
When all is said and done,
Those flowers remind me of some girl —
I wish I knew which one!
—From the book "Heart Throbs.'
of an Agricultural €bttor
By MITCHELL MANNERING
T^VURING the preliminary bustle and
*^ confusion of the opening of the Con-
servation Congress in St. Paul, Minnesota,
— which perhaps witnessed an assembly of
more prominent national characters than
any other meeting of the kind for years
past — I came upon a gentleman of scholarly
mien whose full beard was streaked with
gray, conversing with some friends. Seated
in a tall hotel chair, he seemed a living
picture of a sage of "ye olden time," en-
gaged in giving counsel to the younger men
gathered about him.
It was Uncle Henry Wallace, who was
afterward elected President of the Con-
servation Congress, declared by "Uncle
Jim" Wilson and many hundreds of de-
voted admirers one of the ablest agri-
cultural writers in the world, and held in
affectionate regard and esteem by thou-
sands of farmers throughout the length
and breadth of the country. Stong, robust
and vigorous in both mind and body,
from his pencil pours forth a perfect stream
of copy every week for his own "Wallaces'
Farmer," a medium which enjoys a
personality and individuality peculiarly
its own among agricultural papers.
That he is one of America's ablest
agricultural writers does not mean that
he indulges in technicalities and has be-
come a scientific essayist. Uncle Henry's
agricultural writings cover a wide range
of subjects and ideas. How his blue eyes
sparkled as he told me that one of his
favorite tasks in agricultural journalism
was his talks with the boys and girls, and
the "Sunday School Lesson." "You
know," he said, with becoming modesty,
"I was a preacher until I was forty-one,
and I'm fairly familiar with biblical lore.
I have heard Sunday-School lessons given
in an uninteresting way, and I attempted
a little experiment that has proved popular
even in a farm paper."
Editorial work alone does not occupy
Uncle Henry's entire attention. He never
neglects his voluminous correspondence —
and as to speeches! Both must draw
heavily on his energy and vitality in the
work which he loves — although both seem
almost inexhaustible. It seemed impossible
to realize that the hardy, muscular form
before me was that of a man who had once
been told that he could not live over six
months because of tuberculosis. But
that was thirty -three years ago, when Mr.
Wallace was a Presbyterian minister at
Morning Sun, Iowa. His mother and
several sisters and brothers had lost in
hopeless struggle with the great white
plague, yet the news that he must give
up his work came as a shock to him. He
repaired to Colorado and California in
hopes of improvement, but returned in no
better health. His physician commanded
him to leave the pulpit, if he would live —
to "quit on a moment's notice, without
even waiting for a farewell sermon."
And he did. Born on a farm in Westmore-
land County, Pennsylvania, and coming
of a generation of farmers, he had never
quite lost his love of farm work although
he had chosen ministry as a life-work,
and now he betook himself to a farm and
worked in the open air. In ten years he
had regained perfect health; in twelve
years he was accepted as a life insurance
risk. At seventy-four it would be difficult
to find a more vigorous personality than
that of Henry Wallace.
Little did he think of embarking in
sustained agricultural writing when he
first took up farm paper work. He lived
upon the land, and, as he says, the minis-
terial desire to be heard possessed him
strongly. He began writing about mis-
taken farm methods and the frightful
waste of natural resources. At a glance
he saw that the conditions existing in
the average farm home deprived its
members of social and educational op-
portunities, and when he took up editorial
work, his utterances rang true with his
(556)
STORY OF AN AGRICULTURAL EDITOR
557,
HENRY WALLACE, FARM EDITOR AND PRESIDENT OF CONSERVATION CONGRESS Z
convictions. He entered the field with
all the enthusiasm of a medieval crusader,
beginning as an occasional contributor
to various weekly farm papers. His
whole heart became centered in his work,
and he was one of the first agriculturists
to realize the necessity of giving practical
farm advice. Interwoven with his general
description of crop and live-stock condi-
tions, was that common-sense philosophy
whose teachings underlie all success and
development. His sponsor, when he em-
barked in a paper all his own, was Secretary
Wilson, who advised him to go and buy a
558
THE SEED
rundown weekly and print in it whatever
he liked. He did as he was told, and made
business hum in the little "W interest
Chronicle" while he occupied the editorial
chair. In 1895, Mr. Wallace and his two
sons, H. C. and John, established Wallaces'
Farmer.
Mr. Wallace has long been one of the
militant factors in public affairs in Iowa.
He has been a prominent figure in the
farmers' fight against monopoly and their
demand for fair treatment, and has had
no small part in the development of the
excellent agricultural college at Ames.
For thirty-three years his labor for the
conservation of soil has been carried on
in season and out of season. Throughout
the entire West can be seen the results of
his championship for better methods of
fanning. The development of dairy in-
terests in connection with a suggestion
from a railroad man, and the co-operation
of the railroads in increasing cereal produc-
tion along their lines has been a marked
feature of what has been accomplished by
intelligent supervision and co-operation.
How well Professor Bailey of Cornell
put it when he pronounced Uncle Henry
"an admirable example of strong idealism
and practical sense, combined with a
highly developed individualism — just the
qualities that are needed in the young men
of the open country."
One cannot talk long with Uncle Henry
without understanding the stress he lays
upon the increase of social, educational
and religious opportunities for the young
people who have been driven from the
country to the cities. In his plain talks
on home life and in his Sunday-School
dissertations he has left works that will
be notable in the annals of agricultural
literature. His open letters to farmer
boys, the first written on the occasion
of his overhearing a quarrel which resulted
in a misunderstanding between father and
son, have the true ring of Christian litera-
ture. They were in such demand that it
was necessary to publish them in book
form. The following excerpt gives some
idea of the virility and rugged force of
the Wallace letters:
"I would say to young men who are am-
bitious to get on in the world: Give no
thought to your yesterdays; they are gone;
you can't help them by worrying about
them. Give no thought to the tomorrows;
they are not here and you can't help them
by worrying about them. Give thought
only to today and the work of today and strive
to do today's work well; it is here, at your
hand, waiting for you."
During the multifarious, chaotic dis-
cussions at the Conservation Convention,
there was one man sitting erect in his high-
backed chair in the corner, who always
seemed to think straight and talk lucidly
amid the maelstrom of discussion. The
cause of conservation is especially fortunate
in having the loyal, able services of such a
man as Uncle Henry Wallace as president.
THE SEED
""THE sower sows a little seed;
A The hands of God attend it,
The tears of heaven befriend it,
The harvest fills a need.
The poet hears a little word;
Into his heart he takes it,
Into a song he wakes it,
And kindred hearts are stirred.
With seed and word the world is rife;
If loving hands will plant them
A Sovereign Love will grant them
Life, and the joy of life.
— Henry Dumont, in "A Golden Fancy.
Jfrom Bust Wit Came
By FRANK P. FOGG
/~\NE who delves into the agricultural
^•^ and economic conditions in New
England will find many astonishing facts.
While there is a vast amount of non-
producing land in every one of the six
New England States, yet the most profit-
able acreage in all America is held in New
England. The average income from
improved land within the State of Rhode
Island is $33.80 per acre annually. Massa-
chusetts stands next with an average
annual income of $32.74, notwithstanding
the average valuation of all farm land in
Massachusetts is but $7.50 per acre.
Connecticut ranks third in the per acre
value of farm products, producing over
$31.00 per acre annually.
A great question which is being given
intelligent consideration nowadays is the
proper way to reinvigorate the soil and
keep it productive of wholesome vegetation
under intensive methods of cultivation.
It is gravely to be doubted whether the
old theory is true, that the animal and
vegetable kingdoms are antithetical; i. e.,
what is cast off as unwholesome by the
one is exactly suited as food for the other.
So far as carbonic acid gases and oxygen
are concerned, the rule seems true; for
the lungs of mammals throw off carbonic
acid to be available by the respiratory
functions in the leaves of plants, which
in turn emit oxygen, the life-sustaining
element in air for animals. But eminent
scientists have demonstrated conclusively
to fair-minded students of agriculture that
animal excrement does not contain the
essential elements that plant life naturally
draws from virgin soil.
Soil is decomposed rock or volcanic lava,
and Nature provided in these, and in air
and water, all the elements that make
plants grow, and such as in vegetable
form can be assimilated as food.
Our pioneer ancestry was a hardy stock.
That was before the time when the soil
was surcharged with stable manure and
the other nitrogenous and ammoniacal
compounds that we now use to stimulate
plant growth. There can be no doubt
that most of our present day problems
with vegetable smut, rust and rot, as
well as cut worms and devouring in-
sects— all enemies of the agriculturist —
are propagated by nothing so much as by
depleting the soil' of essential body-build-
ing elements and returning only stable
manure and other ammoniacal matter.
If the soil is not normal and healthy,
how can it as the "mother of life" pro-
duce other than anaemic vegetation? And
how can mal-nurtured vegetation support
animal life with the essential elements
which they do not continue to draw from
long-cropped and exhausted soil?
In the section of Rhode Island about
Cranston and Auburn, where the soil has
been continuously planted to cucumbers or
similar crops, there has recently appeared a
plant blight that has baffled all soil doctors
of the old school. One Cranston firm has
habitually planted two hundred acres to
cucumbers for pickling purposes, but for
the past two years the blight has killed the
vines about blossoming time.
The Department of Animal Industry
at Washington sent an expert who failed
to locate the cause or to advise a cure.
The Department of Entomology made an
investigation only to fail in rinding an insect
that could be held responsible.
For a score of years leading scientists
of Germany have been exhorting their
agriculturists to substitute mineral fertili-
zers in place of sewerage, guano and
putrefactions of all kinds.
Some important books have been written
on the subject, among others one called
"Das Leben" or "The Life," was written
by Julius Hensel, a German thinker and
a chemist of much repute. Translations
from Hensel and from Dr. Herm. Fischer
and others have been made and a book
has been published under the caption,
(559)
560
FROM DUST WE CAME
Stones," by A. J. Taffel,
"Bread from
Philadelphia.
Learning some things about
markable results obtained from
fertilizer in several sec-
tions of New England,
and the unequivocal
endorsement which
men of station have
given its use, we sought
a fountain head of this
regenerating influence
and witnessed how a
peculiar metamorphic
rock is being mined
from a vast mountain
deposit near Rumford
Falls, Maine.
Before going, a very
prominent business
man and manufacturer
of Boston was inter-
viewed— one who finds
much pleasure and
recreation on his farm
in Lexington. "Under
very unadvantageous
conditions the past
season," he said, "the
mineral fertilizer has
yet produced astonish-
ing results. For corn it
produced stalks bear-
ing five almost perfect
ears; for grass it effect-
ually covered a spot
where the soil for three
feet in depth had been
previously graded off,
leaving only yellow
sand in which to plant.
But the grass grew
after the application of
mineral fertilizer as
strongly at that spot
as anywhere else."
Others testified that
potatoes, peas, onions,
and other vegetables
nurtured on mineral
fertilizer were not
ravaged by cut worms
and insects as were
adjoining lots. An or-
chardist in West Acton
the re-
mineral
AN EXACT REPRODUCTION OF ONE OF
THE STALKS OF CORN GROWN BY MR.
PAYSON ON MINERAL FERTILIZER
had grown apples of remarkable size, color,
flavor and keeping quality; no worms,
no bugs. In a small private garden, in
Brockton, everything was grown on mineral
fertilizer to beat the
neighborhood and to
become the admiration
of all visitors.
* * *
So to Maine we went
and found the mount-
ain unlike others in the
neighborhood; a meta-
morphic, sedimentary
formation, in seams or
strata standing straight
up like the leaves of a
book. In this rock are
found nearly all the
essential elements for
plant food, such as the
oxides of potassium,
sodium, calcium and
magnesium, also iron,
sulphur, silica, chlorine,
alumina and phosphor-
ic acid.
As Hensel says in
"DasLeben,""Wefind
that all plants, as also
animal bodies, for these
are built up from vege-
table substances, after
combustion leave be-
hind ashes which al-
ways consist of the
same substances, al-
though the proportions
vary with different
kinds of plants. We
always find in these
ashes potash, soda,
lime , magnesia , iron
and manganese, com-
bined with carbonic,
phosphoric, sulphuric,
muriatic, fluoric and
silicic acids.
"From such earthy
materials from primary
rocks, which have been
associated with sedi-
ments of gypsum and
lime in combination
with water and the
FROM DUST WE CAME
561
atmosphere, under the influence of the
warmth and light of the sun, the plants
which nourish man and beast originate."
The singularly rich deposit of the New
England Mineral Fertilizer Company,
covering an area of fully a half a mile in
width, extends back at least three-quarters
of a mile, and probably much farther.
It reaches to the pinnacle of the mountain
some thousand feet or more above the
water level; and there can be little doubt
after seeing the formation that the same
metamorphic rock has a depth of many
not suffice to merely restore the potassa,
phosphoric acid and nitrogen. Other
things are imperatively demanded."
Since the elements of virgin soil become
exhausted by cropping, their rehabilita-
tion can only be effected by a long period
of rest for the soil, during which other
elements are freed from the disintegrating
rocks; or better by supplying new stock
soil out of which nothing has grown, and
whose strength is, therefore, intact.
Not only is quantity of a, crop desirable
but even more the quality, and in \ this
OATS GROWN. AT NORTH ABINGTON, MASSACHUSETTS, BY WILLIAM B. ARNOLD
Five feet six inches high
thousand feet, so the supply is assured
for hundreds of years.
Already the jaw-crushing machines and
grinders are working up hundreds of tons
of rock into dust so it can be readily ren-
dered soluble by action of the air and water
after applied to the soil.
As -Hensel further says, "If we desire
normal and healthy crops, and that men
and animals living on them should find
in them all that is necessary for their
bodily sustenance ( phosphate and fluorate
of lime and magnesia for the formation
of the bones and teeth, potassium, iron
and manganese for the muscles, chloride
of sodium for the serum of the blood,
sulphur for the albumen of the blood,
hydro-carbons for the nerve fat), it will
respect potassa is more valuable than lime.
Flax will illustrate this: Potassa makes
the fibre pliable and soft; lime makes it
hard and brittle. Silesian linen made from
flax grown on granite soil rich in potassa
is valuable for its durability; but the
Spanish and French linen, grown on cal-
careous soils, are brittle and of far less
value. So it is with animals. Dr. Stamen,
once noted in Zurich, states he nowhere
saw so many cases of ossification of the
arteries as on Swiss soil, which is rich
in lime.
Nutrition has its influence on tempera-
ment and breed. Englishmen prefer
Hungarian grown oats for their race
horses, because the granite of the Car-
pathian mountains contains but very
562
FROM DUST WE CAME
little lime and is extremely rich in potassa.
Does it not follow that the human race
is influenced by its nutrition and by the
substances with which our fields are
fertilized? If we would secure the utmost
freedom from catarrh, gastritis, Blight's
disease and tuberculosis, we should not
saturate the soil with animal excretions
and fail to furnish a sufficiency of potassa,
soda, magnesia, alumina and sulphur.
* * *
The situation may as well be faced now
as at any future time, and a good deal
better. For three hundred and fifty years
New England farmers have been exploiting
the soil, at first in a rather harmless way
when the land was not called upon to pro-
vide for more than the tillers of the soil.
With the growth of towns and cities,
and especially since opening of competi-
tive agricultural areas of the West, New
England farmers have not only kept on
sapping the land of its natural food ele-
ments, but have brought upon themselves
a ravaging host of parasites that annually
have consumed millions of dollars worth
of vegetation. The hardy stock of our
pioneer ancestry has been weakened by
disease and mal-nutrition until the type
of men who can chop and hew a home
in primeval forests, or build the heavy
stone walls which attest the hardihood
of our grandfathers, is as impossible to
find as it is unnecessary.
These very rocks and stones which have
been removed from cultivated fields are
the very stuff of which fertile soil is slowly
made. Some kinds are less valuable in
essential elements than others; but the
sooner agriculturists make use of natural
restoratives for soil exhaustion the sooner
will they solve the extermination of in-
sects and grubs, and the sooner bring
about a regeneration of vigorous healthy
manhood.
Is it not time to analyze the conditions
in which we find our exhausted or manure-
sick soils, the infected herds, of which it
is said a large per cent are at present
tuberculous, and the weakened anaemic
state of the people at the present time?
What has caused all this? Is there any
relationship existing between exhausted
or doped-up soil, and our human suffer-
ings and ailments? It is literally true
that we "reap what we sow," and does it
not follow that plant life fed on stimulants
will in turn fail to have the sturdy, health-
giving elements upon which bone and
muscle and brain power must be fed?
Since New England has an abundance
of rock from which her soil- has been grad-
ually eroded, why not investigate these
vast store-houses of essential elements
and devise some way to make use of
Nature's heritages?
Instead of removing to more fertile
fields far remote from markets, why not
bring back to New England's unproducing
lands the kind of people that have left,
seeking with modified success for an equal
market and more productive soil?
New England presents a better condition
today than at any previous time in history.
Now the farmer gets prices for his products
never before realized. Instead of being
pauperized as formerly by the low prices
of foodstuffs brought in from the great
grain states of the West, he finds an actual
dearth of farm products. Instead of the
exploitive system by which the farmer
barely eked out an existence, years ago, he
finds a conservation policy made possible.
Agricultural conditions can and will
be as intelligently conducted as manu-
facturing; more and better crops can be
raised under wise management than have
ever been raised before — and by stopping
the feeding of bugs, slugs and other para-
sites with the sap-tainted vegetation we are
now growing on unwholesome fertilizers,
we can conserve our resources from the
frightful devastation and witless wearing
out of farm lands that is now being suffered.
Consequence* of QTelepfjone Competition
DIFFICULT INDUSTRIAL PROBLEMS IN THE MIDDLE WEST
By J. N. KINS
"MOWHERE in the territory covered by
^ the various subsidiary companies of
the American Telephone and Telegraph
Company has the
problem of success
been more difficult
to solve than in the
three states of Indi-
ana, Ohio, and Illi-
nois, covered by the
Central Union Tele-
phone Company.
Indianapolis was
one of the first cities
to install the orig-
inal Bell Telephone,
and in Indiana the
independent tele-
phone companies
began the contest
which has attracted
so much attention
throughout the
country. Gradually
the movement
spread over Indiana,
then to Illinois and
Ohio, until such
cities as did not
possess an indepen-
dent telephone com-
pany were not con-
sidered abreast of the times. These states
were the battle ground between the Bell
and Independent companies, and upon the
Bell subsidiary in the field fell the burdens
of the conflict. Practically all the great
manufacturers of independent telephone
apparatus located their plants in Chicago
and Cleveland to be near the scene of
action. They could thus direct the move-
ments from a point of vantage and rush
men and material into the various towns
to be captured with but little expense.
Upon the independent efforts in these
three states depended the success of the
movement throughout the country.
L. G. RICHARDSON
President Central Union Telephone Company
Indianapolis
The history of the conflict contains a
wonderful array of startling facts. It is a
story of daring investment and weak
expediency ; of differ-
ence between antici-
pation and realiza-
tion; of political
intrigue and munici-
pal blunders; of
economic conditions
unpractically con-
ceived and blindly
maintained — and all
for what purpose?
Largely to try to
perform an impossi-
bility—to kill off a
natural monopoly.
Today no one who
considers himself
posted on current
affairs talks about
the evils of a tele-
phone monopoly. It
was a great argu-
ment of the pro-
moters who made
fortunes in Indiana,
Illinois and Ohio,
but like witchcraft,
it has faded into the
realms of history.
It has been a constant period of struggle
and conflict on the part of the management
of the Central Union Telephone Company
during the past fourteen years, and it is
not surprising that the company has paid
no dividends; nevertheless it has never
failed on its interest obligations. At an
enormous expense the Central Union has
been establishing precedents and proving
facts that have kept the telephone at-
mosphere clear in many states. It has
borne the brunt of the burden and such
work could only have been carried along
by an enthusiastic coterie of telephone
men who believe in the ultimate triumph
(563)
564 SOME CONSEQUENCES OP TELEPHONE COMPETITION
of a sound business principle. The Cen-
tral Union has been for the past
eight years in charge of an earnest
enthusiastic management — a management
which, notwithstanding the many dif-
ficulties and conflicts that arose, has
studiously avoided litigation and the courts,
and today this management possesses the
confidence of the people to such an extent
that any reasonable proposition for unify-
ing the telephone
systems will receive
hearty support.
In talking with
many representa-
tive business men of
the middle west, I
found that the peo-
ple as a whole are
well satisfied with
the service furnished
by the Central
Union Telephone
Company. There is
hardly a man, unless
directly or indirectly
interested in an In-
dependent Com-
pany, who does not
deplore the exist-
ence of a double
system. Many ex-
pressed themselves
as willing to pay for
one telephone the
price they are now
paying for the two
if they could get rid
of the nuisance of
having two tele-
phones on their desks and two books
to consult. There is no one who
would object to a [fifty per cent in-
crease on the price paid for the Central
Union if he could dispense with the in-
dependent telephone. The people want
single service and are willing to pay rates
for that service which will provide reason-
able returns to the company furnishing it.
In its effort to relieve chaotic operating
and financial conditions, the Central
Union's policy for a time encountered
deep-rooted suspicion and was wholly
misunderstood, but in the last three years
the fairness of the company's purpose
H. F. HILL
Vice-President and General Manager Central Union
Telephone Company, Indianapolis
has been generally recognized. The com-
pany desires to prevent duplication of
investment throughout its territory, be-
lieving that such duplication must result
ultimately in loss to the public as well
as to the investor. It has sought to interest
the independent companies, at points
where there was no duplication, in a
method of operation which would harmon-
ize all interests and bring about the best
. possible results to
the public. With
this end in view it
has made connecting
contracts with 1,776
independent ex-
changes, thereby
broadening the scope
of these companies
and guaranteeing to
the people the widest
and most efficient
telephone service at
the minimum of
expense consistent
with proper business
principles . Where
the independents
had satisfactory
connections with
other toll lines at any
point, the Central
Union has made no
effort to effect a
change; neither has
it tried by any un-
derhand method to
obtain any undue
advantage .over its
competitors, but it
has endeavored to 'reach the only suit-
able goal — that of the unification of
the telephone business in its territory,
if such unification can be brought about
with safety to the investor in its securities
and also to the investor in the securities
of other companies. The Central Union
Telephone Company has encouraged the
Independents to continue all existing
service and all long distance connections,
offering to extend its own superior facilities
to companies which had been restricted
to inadequate local and long distance
service.
It has been painfully apparent to the
SOME CONSEQUENCES OF TELEPHONE COMPETITION 565
management of the Central Union Tele-
phone Company, as well as to every in-
dependent company in Indiana, Ohio and
Illinois, that competition as a guarantee
of good telephone service and regulator
of rates has miserably failed. The verifica-
tion of this truth has already cost certain
investors in Indiana, Illinois and Ohio,
several million dollars besides the amounts
asset in the friendliness and general confi-
dence of the public, and when the economic
crime of competition has become a thing
of the past, then will the Central Union
property be greatly enhanced in value
and the people will secure much better
telephone service and at less total expendi-
ture.
It is imperative that the Central Union
GENERAL HEADQUARTERS OF THE CENTRAL UNION TELEPHONE
COMPANY AT INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
spent by the general public each year to
maintain wasteful competition and useless
duplication. The time has come when
this unnecessary loss should cease. There
are instances where obstinacy, bad man-
agement and other causes require compet-
ing plants, but no such an occasion exists
in the territory covered by the Central
Union.
Few companies have a higher regard for
the rights of the people than has the
Central Union Telephone Company.
While it does not pay dividends at the
present time, it possesses a remarkable
keep up its reputation for giving good
service. The people have a vastly greater
interest in telephone service than they
have in any theoretical discussion of
trusts and monopolies and it matters
little whether the company's stock and
bond holders live in New York or Japan.
What the patrons want is good service,
and they will not stop to inquire who owns
the company. It is apparent that the
people of Indianapolis are about tired of
the useless waste of time and expense
necessary to support two telephone
systems. The demand of the people for
566 SOME CONSEQUENCES OF
unified telephone service is becoming
more and more persistent.
The independent telephone company
in Indianapolis presents a typical illustra-
tion of the methods of telephone promoters.
The men who launched the concern are
not the present owners. Subsequent in-
TELEPHONE COMPETITION
Union management adopted a policy of
co-operation with the independent com-
panies which has been of great value to
many- thousands of people in that district.
Whenever it was practicable to do so it
made connecting agreements with these
companies and . on December 31, 1905,
EFFECTS OF A WINTER STORM IN INDIANA
vestors who made a poor bargain are now
in control.
There are few people nowadays who
are affected by any apprehension of the
evils of a telephone monopoly. The day
is past when people view the subject '
from a sentimental standpoint ; they prefer
to give consideration to their own interests.
Telephone duplication must go; if the
companies cannot come together to relieve
the people of the nuisance, the people
themselves will evolve a plan which may
not be considered to the interests of the
men whose money is now in the business,
and it is more than strange that they cannot
foresee the impending storm. More than
two hundred cities in Indiana, Ohio and
Illinois have already thrown off the double
telephone yoke, and no one would be less
welcome in these cities today than a
telephone company promoter.
About seven years ago the Central
the Central Union was working under
reciprocal arrangements with 525 inde-
pendent exchanges having a total of
94,634 subscribers. Today it connects
with 1,776 exchanges, having more than
476,000 subscribers. These subscribers
are privileged to receive service through
the territory and to all points reached by
the long distance system of the American
Telephone & Telegraph Company and
through the exchanges of all its associated
companies.
For seven years the Central Union has
stood willing to connect its toll lines with
the local exchanges of independent com-
panies. The terms upon which it makes
such connections are most reasonable and
furnish a valuable opportunity for those
companies to secure wide toll connections
and at the same time enhance the value
of their property by eliminating the possi-
bility of Bell competition.
SOME CONSEQUENCES OF TELEPHONE COMPETITION 567
The truth must be admitted with brutal
frankness that we have had a wrong con-
ception of the telephone business. We
have thought that, like a central station
supplying electricity with modern steam
or hydraulic turbines as prime movers,
the more patrons, the less the average
cost. We have deluded ourselves by be-
lieving that the larger the number of
telephone users the less should be the
expense to each. We were honest in this
belief, and not knowing anything about
the business and in the absence of any
a loss in the sale of each individual paper,
the greater the sale the greater the loss.
This must be overcome by the price charged
for advertising and the rates must con-
stantly increase with additional circulation
in order to offset the constantly increasing
loss on the sale of the papers.
As a matter of fact but few realize the
expensive character of the apparatus in-
stalled in the central office. Knowing
nothing of the details of the telephone
business, the average citizen is wholly
unaware of the expense involved in • the
A SLEET STORM IN INDIANA
evidence to the contrary, it is perhaps not
strange that we should have followed the
paths of error so long. Perhaps the Bell
companies deserve criticism tor their
policy of silence on the subject for so many
years. Had they given out the true facts
regarding the constantly increasing average
cost as the number of subscribers increased,
innocent investors in the independent tele-
phone companies would have been spared
the losses they have experienced.
The telephone business is not unlike
the publication of a daily newspaper in
these days of penny papers. As there is
employment of the army of operators,
clerks and other employes. Every light-
ning flash within the limits of a city in all
probability means a destruction of cables
or the knocking out of wires, central office
apparatus and telephones. Every storm
that rages and every high wind that blows
means possible destruction to telephone
plants. When all these facts are considered
and especially when we realize how prone
the people in many communities have
been to encourage competition we cannot
but admit that the business is of an ex-
ceptionally hazardous character. It can
568 SOME CONSEQUENCES OF TELEPHONE COMPETITION
only be successfully conducted by men
thoroughly trained in the work, who are
backed by large capital and excellent
financial credit, such as is the case with the
American Telephone and Telegraph Com-
pany and its various subsidiaries. If it
were possible to convey the true facts
regarding the telephone business to every
business man in the middle west there would
immediately be a cessation of duplica-
tion and competition, a slight increase in
rates, and an assurance that the tele-
phone company would contribute more
than its share toward building up the
district in which it operates.
In the next twenty-five years Indian-
apolis will in all probability be a city of
half a million people. Telephone exten-
sion will be a necessity and whatever
system is in use will have to be constantly
modernized. This can be done only by a
company with ample funds and financial
credit and such a company should be
given a franchise which would protect
it against raiders and at the same time be
eminently fair to all the people.
Depreciation is a factor that no tele-
phone company can escape. It has been
stated by an expert authority that the life
of a plant is about nine years. If this be
true then
A plant costing Has a daily depreciation of
$10,000 $3.00
20,000 6.00
30,000 9 00
50,000 15.00
100,000 30 00
500,000 150.00
1,000,000 300.00
What a vast sum of money would have
been saved to innocent investors in the
stocks and bonds of independent com-
panies had they known these facts!
The independent telephone interests
are stronger in the Middle West than in
any part of the country, their highest
development being in the states of Ohio,
Indiana, Illinois and Iowa. The inde-
pendent movement started in these states
about fifteen years ago and reached its
climax about ten years later. Since this
peak of development was reached the
independents as a whole have been
losing strength, owing to the failure of
their predictions to the people and change
in the popular feeling toward telephone
competition. Five years ago the inde-
pendents outnumbered the Bell in almost
every city in the Central Union territory
in which two systems operated side by
side. Since that time the Bell has "re-
claimed" Indianapolis, Columbus, Toledo,
Terre Haute and all the larger cities in
the three states with two or three excep-
tions, and warm fights are in progress
in the few remaining places where the
independents are stronger. In South
Bend, Indiana, the Central Union has
just finished a complete new equipment,
and a warm contest is on. The Bell is
gathering subscribers at the rate of twenty
per day.
Perhaps an idea of the general unprofit-
able character of the independent business
may be gained from the experience of the
Union Electric Telephone Company, of
Rock Island, Illinois, which has been losing
one thousand dollars a month, but it is
tied up by a provision of its franchise that
prohibits the sale of its properties and
business. So it has been moved to go
deeper into its stockholders' pockets to
pay for advertising its dilemma, one of
which advertisements reads as follows :
"If you were one of three men with
six hundred thousand dollars invested in
a business and were called upon to bear
your proportionate share of a monthly
loss of one thousand dollars — and there
was no possible means of overcoming the
deficit — what would be your action to
relieve yourself of the burden? You would
sell whatever of your tangible assets were
marketable, shut up shop, quit and get
your money into some investment that
would return you a profit. Most naturally
you would. Three men own the prop-
erties of the Union Electric Telephone
Company, have exactly six hundred thou-
sand dollars tied up in the tri-cities and
they are putting in one thousand dollars
every month to keep the exchanges in
operation until such time as they are
permitted to sell their holdings."
The larger independent companies in
Ohio and Indiana are now controlled by
J. P. Morgan & Company of New York,
who purchased the control from the so-
called Brailey Syndicate a little less than
two years ago. The Morgan properties
include the New Long Distance Tele-
phone Company of Indiana, the United
SOME CONSEQUENCES OF TELEPHONE COMPETITION 569
V
SLEET PULLING THE WIRES DOWN
States Long Distance Telephone Company
of Ohio, and the local independent ex-
change at Cleveland, Toledo, Dayton,
Columbus and Mount Vernon, Ohio;
and Indianapolis, Indiana. The Inter-
State Telephone & Telegraph Company
of Illinois, the strongest concern operating
in that state in opposition to the Bell,
has just gone into the hands of a receiver,
with liabilities considerably in excess of
assets. This concern operates exchanges
in Aurora, Elgin, Joliet, Springfield, Peoria,
Sterling and a number of smaller towns
and had been operating at a loss in prac-
tically all of the places named.
The fight between the Bell and inde-
pendents in this territory is now confined
to a few points. In almost all places of
consequence, mergers or connecting con-
tracts have either been made or negotia-
tions are in progress. The 1,776 inde-
pendent exchanges now connected with
the Central Union include the important
cities of Marion, Sidney, Bellfontaine,
Piqua, Troy, Ashland, Middletown, New
Lexington, Ottawa, Ravenna, Shelby
and Tiffin, Ohio; Cambridge City, Ko-
komo, Marion, Huntington, Hartford City,
Bluffton, Frankfort, Richmond, Green-
castle, Brazil, Linton, Columbia City,
Garret, Goshen, Elkhart, Portland, La-
porte, Madison, Monticello, Greenfield,
Bloomfield, Seymour, Angola, Sullivan
and Versailles, Indiana; Princeton, Carter-
ville, Monmouth, Clinton, Rochelle, Car-
bondale, Lincoln, Lawrenceville, Tuscola,
Jerseyville, Pontiac, Carthage, Shelbyville
and Danville, Illinois.
The Central Union Telephone Company
has an authorized capitalization of
$10,000,000, of which $5,450,927 have
been issued. Its bond issue amounts to
$6,000,000 and it has a floating indebted-
ness of approximately $19,000,000. Its
total stations on December 31, 1907, were
193,740, of which 12,800 were in the city
of Indianapolis. On December 1, 1910,
its total stations were 220,668, of which
22,895 were in the city of Indianapolis,
and this with 476,000 connections makes
a total of 696,668 telephones in the Central
Union System.
570
SIN IS SIN
There has been no change in the manage-
ment of the Central Union Telephone
Company during the past three years.
Mr. L. G. Richardson is president and
Mr. H. F. Hill, vice-president and general
manager. Mr. B. E. Sunny is chairman of
the board of directors.
Evidence of the permanency of the
Central Union investment as well as the
foresightedness of the company's man-
agement are found in most of the larger
cities in which the company operates.
The general headquarters are located in
Indianapolis in a splendid fireproof build-
ing of eight stories fronting the Federal
Square. This building contains the offices
of the president, vice-president and
general manager, auditor, treasurer,
traffic and plant engineers and head-
quarters for the state of Indiana. At-
tached to the general headquarters is a
complete printing office, where almost
three-quarters of a million telephone
directories are printed annually, as well
as all the other printed matter necessary
to be used by a large corporation. The
printing plant includes three large cylinder
presses, complete bindery, linotype ma-
chine and smaller presses. A force of
about forty is kept constantly employed
in this department.
The upper floors of the building are
occupied by the Indianapolis Main Ex-
change, and a branch exchange, to be
known as "Circle," is being built along-
side the present installation.
The company also occupies five other
exchange buildings in Indianapolis, and
a sixth will be built next year.
Handsome fireproof buildings are also
owned in the cities of Columbus, Dayton,
Youngstown, Toledo, Canton, Akron and
Springfield, Ohio; South Bend, Terre
Haute, Frankfort, Marion and Vincennes,
Indiana; Springfield, Peoria, Rock Island,
Moline, Galesburg and Kankakee, Illinois.
The Central Union Telephone Company
'was organized late in 1883. It was greeted
at the outset by the most drastic and con-
fiscatory rate-regulating law ever passed.
The Indiana statutes of April 13, 1885,
limited all telephone tolls throughout the
state to a maximum charge of fifteen cents,
and rentals to a maximum of three dollars
per month. For four years thereafter,
until the law was repealed, the Bell prop-
erty in the state had to be practically
abandoned. This law was probably
fifteen years earlier than any other rate-
regulating measure on any subject enacted
in Central Union Territory and its blight-
ing effect was wide spread, long continued
and disastrous in the extreme. For a
long time it was difficult to obtain capital
for an investment so exposed to hostile
and freak legislation. In Indianapolis,
Indiana, the Central Union Company on
April 16, 1886, was given fourteen days
notice to remove its poles and wires from
the streets, and it was ten years later
before the company was able to obtain
a valid franchise.
SIN IS SIN
FROM THE BOOK "HEART THROBS"
r\ON'T send my boy where your girl can't go,
*^ And say, "There's no danger for boys, you know,
Because they all have their wild oats to sow";
There is no more excuse for my boy to be low
Than your girl. Then please don't tell him so.
Don't send my boy where your girl can't go,
For a boy or a girl's sin is sin, you know,
And my baby boy's hands are as clean and white,
And his heart as pure as your girl's tonight.
By JAMES BYRAM
October 1 a leading insurance
journal published the statement that
the principal benefit societies of this
country had together paid death benefits
amounting to $1,299,699,705. There had
also been paid sick benefits amounting
to $408,519,023, making a grand total of
$1,708,218,728. It is estimated that the
average death benefit was $1,500, so that
over 866,000 families have been direct
beneficiaries of this system of insurance.
A busy world gives little heed to these
startling figures. In the whirlpool of
strife and ambition, the great work which
has been accomplished by American
fraternal organizations attracts but little
attention, and yet every great and noble
action has fraternity for one of its surest
and safest stays. Indeed, it is the very
essence of our faith in American institu-
tions. It has been one of the important
wielding influences in war of every con-
tending host. In every social reform and
every march of industrial progress, class
distinctions and arrogant assumption of
authority melt beneath the power of
fraternalism. In a word, it is the bulwark
of American institutions.
Fraternal organizations are not com-
posed of the extremely rich, for they do
not need this kind of insurance; neither
do they include the poverty-stricken,
for as a rule they are too improvident to
provide for their families; but they enroll
in their ranks the great middle class of
men who earn their living by their brain
and muscle — men who love their families
and whose homes are their castles — men
who are the best type of American man-
hood.
The true fraternal beneficiary society
is much like our representative form of
government, and like the Constitution of
the United States it has had its vilifiers.
For years after the adoption of the Con-
stitution there was not a voice from across
the ocean that did not dwell upon its
impracticability and predict its speedy
downfall. Nor were these opinions en-
tertained alone in the Old World, but
leading Americans were loath to endorse
this plan of government. The attacks
upon fraternal associations have been
long and bitter. True, the original plans
were far from perfect, and as time went
on various amendments and changes
were found necessary. The Constitution
of the United States was not perfect when
first adopted. It . has been subjected to
various amendments, much as has the
plan of fraternal insurance, but the under-
lying principles of both propositions are
unquestionably the product of the best
brains which this country ever possessed.
The fraternal organizations constitute
great charitable societies that go by the
most direct route to the right place. They
follow death across the threshold into the
home, and with willing hands perform the
most noble services. In the ordinary
sense of the word, the work is not charity —
it is an exemplification of the scriptural
injunction, "Bear ye one another's
burdens . " It is the main ob j ect of fraternal
societies to provide pure protection for
the family, to provide the means that will
enable the widowed mother to keep around
her the little ones, that she may mold their
hearts and shape their minds for careers
of useful occupation and good citizenship.
What a story is told in the thousands of
letters of gratitude which large fraternal
organizations receive each year! What
beautiful commentaries on that system of
insurance, and what a strange contrast
are these letters to the abuse of these
associations by prejudiced men!
In the early societies men banded them-
selves together for fraternal protection,
each agreeing to pay an equal amount
upon the death of a member, irrespective
of age at date of admission. Under this
plan the young man in his twenties paid
equally with his brother in middle life,
or the one who came into the society at
the maximum age limit. It early became
(571
572
AND THEY SHALL BEAR EACH OTHER'S BURDENS
apparent that this plan was not practicable.
Another class of societies was organized
with a graded table of assessments. Later
these societies adopted the custom of
keeping a sufficient amount in the mortuary
fund to satisfy current losses. This fund
was replenished from time to time as
deaths occurred. With the young societies
this plan seemed to be successful, but
here, too, the young members contributed
far in excess of their share of the money
E. A. WILLIAMS
Supreme President Equitable Fraternal Union
needed for death benefits, while the
members of fifty years of age and over
paid measurably less than their equitable
share of the losses. These and other
defects brought disaster to some orders
and imperiled the future of others.
Profiting by the costly experience of
many societies, there have been organized,
during recent years, fraternal beneficiary
societies on a reserve fund basis. Formerly
fraternal societies made no attempt to
provide a reserve or emergency fund, but
all were organized as assessment companies,
collecting from month to month only what
was necessary to pay the current mortuary
cost.
The latest and most approved plan
establishes during the early years of the
society a fund which will provide for the
extra cost in later years. The method
adopted by the Equitable Fraternal Union,
of Neenah, Wisconsin, is a striking example
of a departure from the old
methods, as it embodies the
strong features of low cost of
management and promotion pe-
culiar to the fraternal societies
with the level rate reserve plan
of old line insurance companies,
but eliminates the idea of legal
reserve wherein each policy had a
credit. Instead, the Equitable
Fraternal Union adopted the
emergency plan, whereby each
policy was interested in all the
surplus. In this way the entire
surplus accumulations could be
available in any necessity, thus
making it the balance wheel to
carry the insurance machine over
all peak loads, and equalizing the
cost throughout the life of the
members. Upon this theory the
Equitable Fraternal Union began
business, August 20, 1897. Now
let us see how the plan has
worked.
The . nicety with which this
plan has operated during the
past thirteen years has made it
possible for the interest on the
money accruing to the reserve
fund, incident to the death of
members, to amount to more
in a year than would be paid in
assessments by those deceased members
were they all living and paying with
regularity.
Furthermore, members of the Equitable
Fraternal Union assert with much pride
that it is the only fraternal benefit order
that has saved from its monthly payments
more money than has been paid in death
benefits during the entire existence of the
society. During the life of the society
743 death claims have been paid, amount-
AND THEY SHALL BEAR EACH OTHER'S BURDENS
573
ing to $857,592.26, and a reserve fund
has been accumulated amounting to
$1,108,908.31.
Benefit contracts are issued by the
Equitable Fraternal Union to its members
in the sum of five hundred dollars and
multiples thereof to and including three
thousand dollars. Assessments are graded
according to age at date of entry and
remain the same during the entire member-
ship. One assessment is due
and payable each month.
The organizers of this society
discovered that it takes three
hundred dollars to earn one
thousand dollars in the period
of the ordinary lifetime. So
if every member could be
made to contribute three
hundred dollars whether he
lives or dies, the average
earnings would approximate
one thousand dollars for every
thousand dollars of insurance
paid out by the society.
This little discovery, mem-
bers of the Equitable Fraternal
Union assert, is the key to
their success.
At the death of a member,
the full amount named in his
benefit contract is drawn from
the benefit fund of the order.
The beneficiary will receive
seven hundred dollars on each
thousand dollars named in the
contract, and, in addition
thereto, the sum of all the
assessments paid by the de-
ceased member into the order,
and the difference between
this amount and the face of
the contract is placed in
the reserve fund. Thus each
member pays three hundred
dollars in assessments on each
one thousand dollars of benefit carried.
This is the only plan of life insurance
that requires each member to pay the same
price for an equal amount of benefit.
The eleventh hour applicant for pro-
tection will seek elsewhere for insurance
because he knows that while the Equitable
Fraternal Union will only guarantee
.seven hundred dollars plus his few assess-
ments on each one thousand dollar policy,
the great majority of fraternal organiza-
tions will pay his beneficiaries the full
one thousand dollars — hence undesirable
risks seldom creep into the Equitable
Fraternal Union. How true this is may
be shown by the fact that the death rate
of the society has never exceeded 5.6
per one thousand. Last year it was 4.6
per one thousand. The average death rate
MERRITT L. CAMPBELL
Supreme Secretary Equitable Fraternal Union
among the forty-three societies reporting
for the year 1909 to the National Fraternal
Congress was 9.81 per thousand, more
than double that of the Equitable Fraternal
Union. True, this low death rate of the
Neenah society may be attributed also
to a careful selection of risks and the
honesty and integrity of deputies. The
loyalty and interest of the members of
574
AND THEY SHALL BEAR EACH OTHER'S BURDENS
the local lodge are brought to bear be-
cause every application must be read in
full at a meeting of the lodge. A committee
of investigation, composed of members,
is appointed and the fact that the Union
is not a refuge for defectives but a fortress
for the protection of widows is constantly
kept in mind. The examining physician
must be a member of the local lodge and
together with a most competent, thorough
and honest supervision in the home office
enables the Equitable Fraternal Union
to approach the ideal in fraternal . in-
surance as near as it has been found
possible. When a member has attained
his seventieth birthday, the amount due
on his benefit contract is computed in the
same manner as it would be in case of the
death of the member of that age.
The reserve fund is cared for by the
Trustees of the Supreme Assembly, and
is loaned on improved farm lands and in-
vested in municipal bonds. As illustrative
of the care with which these investments
are made, it might be stated that no de-
fault in interest or principal has ever
occurred on the loans, and no mortgage
has ever been foreclosed. The average
rate of interest on all the invested funds
of the society is 5.19 per cent.
Judging by the rapid strides made by
the society during the past four years,
its plan and purpose are receiving hearty
endorsement. On December 31, 1906,
the total benefit membership was 17,906.
In three years a gain was made of 7,289,
making a total of 25,195. On December
31, 1906, the society had a balance to
protect contracts of $493,520.30; on De-
cember 31, 1909, it had on hand
$1,055,411.25. The reserve fund on
December 31, 1906, was -$441,908.98;
on December 31, 1909, it had grown to
$959,442.78. This is equivalent to a
gain during the three years period of
114 per cent.
In using the Equitable Fraternal Union
of Neenah, Wisconsin, as an example of
success in modern fraternal insurance, it
is not my purpose to give the society any
undeserved publicity, nor to place its
officers upon a pedestal where they do not
belong. Nevertheless, they are entitled
to much credit for having evolved a plan
which seems to be practicable and one
that will stand the test of years.
The names of the officers represent
integrity and honor. These gentlemen
are among Wisconsin's leading citizens.
They are: — E. A. Williams, supreme
president; Judge J. C. Karel, supreme
vice-president; Dr. W. G. Oliver, supreme
past president; Merritt L. Campbell,
supreme secretary; J. C. Hilton, supreme
treasurer; C. F. Haight, supreme warden;
Dr. J. R. Barnett, supreme medical
examiner; J. P. Jasperson, Orrin Thomp-
son, George A. Robbins and D. D. Devine,
supreme trustees; W. G. Brown, supreme
auditor.
Home Office of the Equitable Fraternal Union
Neenah, Wisconsin
URECORDS
EVERAL prominent
artists have been
gathered in by the
different talking machine com-
panies for their New Year's offerings on
the January lists, and there is an assembly
of well-recorded selections to tempt the
new owner who has been favored by a
visit from Santa Glaus. And here we
might remark that the sale of talking
machines for this year breaks all records.
Before reviewing the lists, the department
stretches forth a welcome to those new
folks who have come into the circle, and
hopes that the reviews of the different
lists may be of use to those Columbia,
Edison or Victor owners who cannot
conveniently visit one of the branch stores
and hear the entire monthly catalog
played in order to make selections.
* * *
If I were given one choice from the
January Columbia list, I should im-
mediately select double-disc record No.
A933, "New Recitations by Edgar L.
Davenport." "Jim Bludsoe," Hay's ster-
ling poem which some few years ago joined
the rank and file of the immortals, and
"In Bohemia" are recited and recorded
admirably. This is the sort of thing the
young folk ought to hear.
The complete William Tell overture
is divided upon two double disc records,
A5236 and A5237, played by Prince's
Band. The work on this difficult four-
part overture is a credit to the Band and
to the Columbia company. The effects,
with lightning changes from quiet to storm
and martial trumpeting, make the result
what the small boy would call a "thriller."
The grand opera records, double-disc
and selling at four dollars, seem
to be immensely popular with
opera lovers. "Lakme," De-
libes' duet, in French, by Eugenie Brons-
kaja and Bettina Freeman, and the favorite
"La Traviata," soprano and baritone duet
in Italian, by Mme. Bronskaja and Ramon
Blanchart, are featured.
As a concert tenor, Reed Miller has for
several years been sought all over the
country. He is excellent in "Beauty's
Eyes," Tosti's well-known love song, and
in "Forgotten," which Eugene Cowles
wrote never to be forgotten.
In fact, there is a real revival of old
songs and selections — "old" being elastic
enough to include Mrs. A. Stewart Holt
in "I Cannot Sing the Old Songs" with
"Forever and Forever" (double-disc
A5234) ; and "Then You'll Remember Me"
on violin, flute and harp, with Paul Lincke's
"Wedding Dance" — brought out, if I
remember aright, not so many years ago.
Wm. H. Thompson makes his initial
bow to the Columbia circle with "Love
Dreams" and "Sweet Thoughts of Home."
His voice is baritone, and peculiarly sym-
pathetic. Gialdini's whistling record is a
novelty: "Senora" and "Song of the Wood-
Bird" with all sorts of trills and embellish-
ments.
A good variety of vocal and instrumental
selections, old and new, are found among
the two and four minute indestructible
records.
Selections from Hammerstein's "Hans
the Flute, Player" are delightful on the
Victor list, rendered by the Victor Or-
chestra. The production of "Hans" in
New York, by the way, was greeted with
(575)
576
MUSICAL RECORDS FOR THE MONTH
great success, and the talking-machine
records embody the music that was best-
liked.
"That Girl Quartet" introduces a
novelty — a woman's quartet which does
promising work on "Silver Bell," record
No. 16695, on whose opposite face Miss
Lois Fox sings "Honey, Love Me All The
Time."
A concert tenor very well known about
New York is John Young, who is singing
Dana's charming little ballad, "Two Little
Brown Eyes," this month. Billy Murray
is irresistible in "The Jingle of Jungle Joe,"
one of those tropical ditties which have
come into favor of late.
If you haven't already the selections
from "The Merry Widow," by all means
secure the "Gems" from the Victor Light
Opera Company. "Come Away," "For
I am a Dutiful Wife," "Maxims," "Vilia,"
"Women" are included with the favorite
"I Love You So." The Light Opera Com-
pany is also presenting "Gems from
Maritana," which has been popular
for over half a century.
Reinald Werrenrath is new to me as a
baritone of note. He cannot be an
amateur, however — his work in "Dreams,
Just Dreams" and "Asthore" has the
indefinable touch of a finished artist.
John Lemmone, the Australian flutist,
who it will be remembered is with Mme.
Melba on her American tour, has given
two records — "Distant Voices" and "Wind
Amongst the Trees."
As predicted, the "Little Orphant
Annie" record for the young folks on the
December Victor list was immensely
popular. This month there is offered a
ten-inch record with three selections which
cannot but delight even the littlest tots.
Listening to "The Camel and the Butter-
fly," "The Elephant and the Portmanteau"
and "The Tin Gee-Gee" will furnish just
the sort of amusement the children like.
Mme. Gadski in the "Porgi Amor" from
"Figaro," two delightful Irish ballads by
McCormack, Hamlin in the old Scotch
song, "Turn Ye To Me," Miss Ada Sassoli's
harp solo, and the new Kreisler violin solos,
are included in the list.
* * *
Bernhardt was never~more divine than
in "La Samaritaine recontre Jesus au puits
de Jacob" from the first act of Rostand's
"La Samaritaine." It should be impressed
upon new Edison owners that this great
artist is under exclusive contract with the
Edison company for the recording of her
work, and that at least one of her selec-
tions appears each month on the Edison
list. Certainly the Grand Opera Amberol
records for January show unusual care
in selection: Bizet's "Pescatori di Perle,"
Verdi's "II Trovatore" and "Traviata,"
Mozart's "II Flauto Magico" and Wag-
ner's "Lohengrin" are operas to conjure
with. Most impressive selections from
them have been recorded and sung by
such representative artists as Aristodemo
Giorgini, Marie Rappold, Ernesto Caronna,
Marie Galvany and Karl Jorn.
On the Standard list the Farandole from
"L'Artesienne" is rendered in excellent
shape by Victor Herbert and his orchestra.
An especially good instrumental rendition
of "Home Sweet Home" is by the Knicker-
bocker Quartet.
In ballads of the semi-high class, "Love
Dreams," W. H. Thompson, "The Girl
of My Dreams," Harry Anthony and
chorus, and "All That I Ask Of You Is
Love," Helen Clark, are sure to be well
received. Two delightful bell solos are
offered by Mr. Daab: "Sweet Dreams of
Home" on. the Amberol list, "The Bell
Gavotte" on the Standard.
Those inimitable entertainers, Spencer
and Campbell, could hold their own
against all the depressed spirits of the
world in "The Musical Wizard and the
Bell Boy." There is also a laugh in Steve
Porter's "Flanagan's Courtship." Then
there are some "coon" songs — Ada Jones
sings "You'se Just A Little Nigger, Still
You'se Mine, All Mine"; Maude Ray-
mond, "Rag Baby's Gwine To Be Mine."
"Mother Machree," a result of the joint
efforts of Chauncey Olcott and Ernest
Ball, is sung by Will Oakland; some Ger-
man yodle songs are given by George
P. Watson and "Bonnie Sweet Bessie" is
delightfully sung by Miss Marie Narelle.
A violin solo of exceptional note is the
difficult "Chanticleer Reel and Jig Med-
ley," played by Charles D'Almaine.
Variety seems to have been the watch-
word of the company in preparation of
the list.
JWan
By JOHN NICHOLAS BEFFEL
" Some men are so disrespectful to Opportunity that they refuse
to speak to him on the street and others are so irreverent that they
talk of him behind his back as 'Old Man Opp'."
GHE best friend that you've got in ail
th' world is Old Man Opp.
He passes by your house each day
an' always makes a stop.
But if you're watchin' for him, he will help y'
mow your hay.
He isn't blessed with time, of course ; he hasn't
long to stay,
An' Old Man Opp will help y' beat th'
Gloom God's line o' dope;
He'll boost y' up th' ladder with a fresh supply
of hope.
You'd better fix those shaky steps, an' oil
your front-yard gate
An' don't forget that Old Man Opp has not
much time to wait.
y' hear a spooky tappin' on th'
frosted window pane,
Or there comes a low-toned rappin'
through th' fallin' o' th' rain,
Don't get frightened at it, neighbor, though
you're shy of guns an' lead;
Don't think it's some bold burglar who would
steal your stove an' bed.
Don't let your face get scared nor think that
bad men lurk outside,
But beat it toward the sound you hear an'
ope' th' front door wide.
The wolf was out there yesterday, with his
dentistry in view,
But now it's likely Old Man Opp — who wants
to talk with You!
THE LATE REAR ADMIRAL
CHARLES S. SPERRY
The death of Rear-Admiral Sperry, which occurred recently, removed one of
the strongest men from the United States Navy. He it was who commanded
the flying squadron for Uncle Sam on its memorable trip around the world
A Z I N E
MARCH, 1911
iai PS
HINGTON
Joe Mitchell C H
CCORDING to the
Constitutional provi-
sion, Congress must
adjourn in March, and
although the hands of
the clock may be set
back, the date remains
fixed, and at noon on
the fourth day of the third month of the
present year, the Sixty-first Congress will
become a part of the past history of the
Republic.
One of the masterpieces at the World's
Fair in Chicago was a painting entitled
"The Breaking of the Home Ties." Hun-
dreds of thousands of people stood en-
raptured before the pictured scene of a boy
bidding a fond good-bye to his folks as he
started out to make his way in the world.
The dissolution of the Sixty-first Congress
recalls memories of this masterpiece, be-
cause the "breaking of the home ties" of
the Senate and House promises to be most
impressive. No one who has carefully
studied men at Washington of late years
has failed to observe the remarkable
elimination of bitter personal feeling
among the most partisan legislators. All
bitterness is now rather the result of local
feuds than of partisan disagreement,
and when] the Congressmen take final
leave of each other on March 4, there
will be many regretful partings between
political opponents who have learned to
esteem and love each other. Colleagues
of opposing parties bid each other good-
bye not without feeling, as one or the
other returns to private life forever. In
the companionship of committee work and
in engrossing attention to public matters,
friendships are formed between Representa-
tives and Senators that are entirely
outside of all of the bonds of party
feeling or spirit.
When you hear of Democrats openly and
publicly expressing their sincere regret
that Republicans are not returned, and
when Republicans are deeply concerned
because certain Democrats are passing
out of the public arena, it would almost
seem as if a political millennium werejiot
far distant.
Vf/HEN Andrew Carnegie met with the
™ Peace Convention delegates at the
New Willard, and transferred ten million
dollars to be devoted to the establishment
of universal peace, it recalled the stirring
and oft-quoted words of Pinckney, "Mil-
lions for defence, but not one cent for
tribute." But the millions were not for
(1585)
586
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
the "sinews of war"; they were for the
all-embracing arms of a world-wide peace.
This national conference for the judicial
settlement of international disputes was
an event of universal importance.
As Mr. Carnegie conferred his princely
gift, he insisted in the terse sentences
characteristic of the man, that "it is not
war, but danger of war that makes trouble.
"Nations by preparing for war spend
millions and millions for the purpose that
man shall kill his fellow-man, who was
created in the image of God. It isn't
war, but the possibility of war, that we
must fear." He held that it was moral
righteousness that secured the abolition
of slavery, and that the same means would
peace movement for many years, and has
always been a liberal contributor to this
cause since its inception. The gift was
made as unostentatiously as if passing
over a street-car fare. President Taft
spent some time talking over the project
with Mr. Carnegie, and in the course of
his conversation remarked that if Mr.
Carnegie had any more millions that
"weren't working," he was sure that some
of the government departments could
use them in these piping days of the
pruning knife. Mr. Carnegie laughingly
replied that if he decided to provide
funds for the government, he would surely
begin by furnishing the Chief Executive
with all he asked for. The highest hopes
GROUP OP NOTABLE AMERICANS AT A RECENT GATHERING IN BOSTON
result in the ending of all war between
the nations. "Man must cease to kill, to
torture and to destroy. We must arouse
the masses to a better understanding of
what war is. War is the vehicle of the
scurvy politician.
" . . . .1 can only hope that this
fund will have the co-operation of everyone
in bringing men to know the real meaning
of war. War is a crime of nations against
their God."
The ten million dollar Peace Fund was
turned over to a Board of Trustees headed
by Senator Elihti Root, who is the Ameri-
can representative at the Hague Tribunal.
It will yield an income of five hundred
thousand dollars yearly, which will be
used in maintaining the peace organiza-
tions already in the field, and in providing
for their future and greater efficiency.
Mr. Carnegie has been interested in the
of Mr. Carnegie are concentrated on the
establishment of a peace agreement among
English-speaking peoples, and this fund
will provide for concrete and effective
effort along the line.
In the development of every great idea,
there are periods when discussion and
agitation represent the only phase of
popular assent to the movement. Every-
one agrees that it is all right, perhaps that
it is a worthy work, but no one seems to get
right down to the root of things. The
activities of the societies become mere
words, printed "proceedings" and dry-as-
dust resolutions. Finally some nation is
unjustly used, its people demand action,
and in the blaze of the popular passion
there are not even tallow legs for a peace
pact to stand upon. Now the same sub-
stantial scientific study that is accorded
to other great problems is to be given to
588
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
SENOR DON JOAHUIM NABUCO
Ambassador from the republic of Brazil to the United States
the solution of this question. The rights
of all peoples are the first consideration,
making "fair play" the slogan.
International laws will be carefully
codified so as to eliminate the misunder-
standings that soon grow into racial hatreds ;
and when once aroused, the "war fever"
is seldom cured save by actual blood-
letting. When one looks calmly into the
matter in the light of financial experience,
it does seem the height
of folly actually to
waste millions of dol-
lars in armaments and
preparations for war
and in war itself; —
worse than all, in the
sacrifice of myriads of
lives, and sufferings and
sorrows unspeakable,
when a few simple
propositions, studied
out dispassionately and
calmly discussed, could
have averted all this.
Why not give the real
"majesty of the law"
a chance to reconcile
nations, as well as to
keep the peace among
individuals?
No abler man could
have been selected to
take charge of this
great movement than
Senator Root, who
stands in the front rank
of American attorneys.
As great lawyers of
today settle and adjust
most of their litigation
outside of the court-
room, such a custom
should also be applied
to international diffi-
culties. The great
ameliorating influence
of commerce and trade
will have a magical ef-
fect in bringing people
to the necessities of
arbitration, for today
China, Persia, Turkey,
Russia and all other
countries of the world
are catching the spirit of progress, with elec-
tric lines, telephones and all those agencies
which are contrary to the old swash-
buckler methods of days that may have
seemed to breathe of romance for the
novelist and poet, but were dastardly
in their cruel barbarity.
Disputes in reference to the ownership
of land bordering on a highway — does
the man own to the center of the road ' or
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
589
only to the fence? — furnislisimple.examples
of what all international[questions would re-
solve themselves into. What Senator Root
has experienced at the Hague Tribunal
and before American courts he proposes
to apply as substantial and scientific
methods of settling international disputes,
and such a policy, headed by the ."leader
of the bar in America," augurs well for the
future peace of the world.
Mr. Carnegie will live in history as one
of the world's greatest philanthropists,
and although his libraries are eloquent
monuments to his life-work and career,
the one thing which will keep his memory
in grateful remembrance will be his
arduous, lifelong and unflagging devotion
to the cause of peace.
OWEET- TEMPERED, kindly -voiced,
^ but strong and virile as the Middle
West which he so ably represented, the
personality of Senator William .Boyd
Allison is brought vividly before the hearts
of myriads who admired and loved him
by the proposition to erect a suitable
monument to the great lowan statesman.
Already his old friend and companion,
General Grenville M. Dodge of Council
Bluffs, Iowa, has raised forty of the fifty
thousand dollars required for the monu-
ment, and preparations are under way for
its erection.
The long public service of Senator
Allison made the entire nation his debtor.
His deep, kindly dark eyes and his mild,
reasonable appeals and wise counsel
often prevailed amid the most acrimonious
and partisan ^'controversies, for leaders,
on both sides of the Senate, felt that
justice would prevail when Allison stood
at the helm. He commanded the con-
fidence not only of his own party, but of
his political opponents, and had he pushed
himself forward and insisted on the
consideration due him, he might well have
been nominated and elected to the presi-
dency of the United States.
After handling the budgets of the nation
for years, he died a comparatively poor
man, and those familiar with the records
of the United States Senate feel that no
name of all the great and patriotic im-
mortals who have answered to the Senate
roll call, from the gathering of the first
Senate to the present day, is more deserv-
ing of the love and gratitude of the Ameri-
can people than that of Allison. It is
fitting that Senator Allison should be
honored by an enduring monument built
by the people he so loyally served, as
THE LATE SENATOR ALLISON
For whom a monument is to be erected
an expression of the deep respect and
esteem in which they had long held him.
Every person who knew and honored
the beloved "Grand Old Man of Iowa"
should hasten to send in his contribution
to General Dodge so that there may be
no further delay in the erection of a monu-
ment to one of the greatest, most lovable,
sterling and helpful of America's many
great statesmen.
590
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
JUDGE LEBARON B. COLT JUDGE ALFRED c. COXE JUDGE WM. H. SEAMAN
Providence, R. I. Utica, N. Y. Sheboygan, Wis.
A GROUP OF UNITED STATES CIRCUIT JUDGES
IN this age of subways, it is interesting
* to watch the promenade of congressmen
as they leave the office building to go
over to the Capitol. The route is curving,
and has a roadway and . a footpath
divided by a gaspipe rail, and through
this subway you will find congressmen
sauntering on rainy days, while teams
laden with documents — now, by the way,
with cedar chests — pass along the roadway.
A contemplation of the parting of the
Sixty-first Congress calls to mind the
many changes that the closing session on
the fourth of March will bring about.
Many brass plates will be changed on
the office building doors, and many a
congressman will take home his little
cedar chest, inscribed with ,
his name and the emblaz-
oned "M. C." which is riow
cancelled by a cross.
Nearly all the new Dem-
ocratic members of Con-
gress went to Washington
to attend the caucus which
decided upon the election
of Mr. Champ Clark as
Speaker of the House. The
only representative re-
ported missing was Mr.
Akin of New York, who
was elected independently,
but with the Democratic
endorsement.
In the Senate subway,
JUDGE P. S. GROSSCUP
Chicago, 111.
United States Circuit Judge
they use an up-to-date electric motor with
side seats — a regular jaunting car. One
of the Western Senators remarked that
there was quite a contrast between
the jaunting car and the Studebaker
"prairie schooner," in which he slowly
journeyed to the West in his boyhood.
But despite the subway and its advantages,
the old open carriage entrance to the
Senate remains popular, for it is near the
elevators. The Capitol steps are used by
but few people, for Washingtonians, like
all other Americans, go the shortest way
to carry out the American determination
to "get there." The immense steps to the
Capitol are therefore more for ornament
than for utility, and when General Coxey
of " Coxey 's Army" fame
was ascending the Capitol
steps (where he had brought
his army of unemployed in
1893) he recalled the old
days of "on to the steps
of the Capitol," but agreed
that the steps were now
but little used.
D ARELY does one meet
*^ a man without a hob-
by, but when I found a
gentleman pensively look-
ing over a hotel register,
studying signatures "for
characteristics," a mental
JUDGE C. C. KOHLSAAT JUDGE J. C. PRITCHARD JUD~GE H. F. SEVERENS
Chicago, 111. Asheville, N. C. Kalamazoo. Mich.
JUDGE D. D. SHELBY
New Orleans, La.
JUDGE W. H. SANBORN
St. Paul, Minn.
JUDGE E. M. ROSS
Los Angeles, Cal.
JUDGE GEORGE GRAY
Wilmington, Del.
JUDGE D. A. PARDEE
Atlanta, Ga.
JUDGE E. B. ADAMS
St. Louis, Mo.
A GROUP OF UNITED STATES CIRCUIT JUDGES
592
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
picture of an asylum flashed across my
mind. But on further investigation I saw
that he was really making a scientific study
of interesting data.
American life is piquantly reflected in
hotel registers, and a leaf from the register
of the Hotel Saint Paul during the Con-
servation Congress was rich in notable
names. September 5 begins very ap-
propriately with the signature of the
JUDGE WALTER I. SMITH
Of Council Bluffs, Iowa, who was recently appointed
by President Taf t to take the place on the circuit bench
of Justice Van Devanter, who has been elevated to the
Supreme Court of the United States
President of the United States, Wm. H. Taft,
in a fine Spencerian line that is in sharp
contrast to the rugged stub pen signatures
of Roosevelt and Pinchot, which follow.
President James J. Hill and Senator
Beveridge are there with their peculiar
flourishes. Governors Stubbs of Kansas,
Deneen of Illinois and Brooks of Wyom-
ing, Eberhart of Minnesota and Norris of
Montana follow with signatures that have
graced many a state document.
Mr. E. S. Bowman, chief clerk of the
Saint Paul, is the proud possessor of this
leaf, which is one of the most important
ever recorded in the history of an American
hotel. Headed by the names of the
President and ex-President of the United
States, and followed by those of twenty
of the most prominent men in the country,
the list is one of which Mr. Bowman may
well be proud.
But it could never be framed and hung
upon the wall in a school of penmanship.
Not one of the men represented could
pass in a graded school examination in
writing. To secure so many striking
varieties of signature, there must have
been both "stub" and "Spencerian" pens
provided for the hotel registry, although
some of the signers have their own favorite
fountain pens. Among the ' names on
the page that would pass in a Spencerian
contest, that of Governor Hay of Wash-
ington evidences either natural gift or
some traces of training at a writing school.
It is hard to tell whether Governor Eber-
hart or Senator Beveridge would fare
worse at the hands of a teacher of pen-
manship. Some on the list cross their
t's and dot their i's, while others economize
ink in this respect, but end with a de-
cidedly prodigal flourish. Secretary Wil-
son refuses to dot the i's in his name,
while former Secretary of the Interior
Garfield assiduously makes his dot some-
where between the tall letters that grace
his signature. Governor Eberhart has a
delightful way of throwing the alphabet
all together in a melange.
The Saint Paul register for September
5 is already a historic document. Who
knows but in the future super-psychical
days the erudite historian will diligently
seek and pore over old hotel registers, in
a research to catch and study the real
character and destructive spirit of our
times, which has thus far defied the analysis
of philosophy and researchery.
TJOW many can tell the meaning of the
^ * term, "the fourth dimension?" that to
the common dimensions of height, breadth
and thickness adds or presumes "a fourth
dimension" in space, to make a cosmical
or astronomical equation mathematically
correct.
Of late a Harvard professor has awakened
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
593
a lively controversy by arguing that a
fourth dimension is quite as likely to ex-
ist as "the infinite space" which most of
us vaguely recognize; and a very pretty
collegiate controversy is mildly advocating
one doctrine against the other.
A bit of philosophy now and then is
relished by the best of men, but it was
unique to find two travelling men in
Washington discussing the question of
infinity. They were getting into a fright-
ful tangle, when both confessed that they
had no real knowledge of higher mathe-
matics and were trying to demonstrate
that there could be no end of a straight
line which was projected out into space. •
When this point was reached, one of the
politicians who overheard the conversa-
tion inquired, "You evidently have some-
thing in mind that has no end? Perhaps
you are thinking of the tariff discussion.
Can you think of anything that has been
more infinite and interminable than this
question of tariff? Tariff treaties, tariff
boards, tariff commission — to say nothing
of the taxi tariff in Washington!"
IN the world's great competition for
^ naval superiority the United States still
occupies second place, with Germany a
close third and promising to overtake us at
an early day, as her building program is
larger than that of the United States. The
comparative strength of the leading navies
of the world are most clearly set forth in
a summary by Mr. Pitman Pulsifer's
Navy Year-book for 1910, one of the most
interesting volumes ever printed in con-
nection with naval affairs. The relative
strength is shown in the following table:
Germany is slightly ahead of the United
States in the matter of the number of
ships and total tonnage, but in large ships
is decidedly weaker. A chat with Mr.
HON. CHARLES F. JOHNSTON
Senator from Maine, succeeding Senator Hale. The
first Democratic Senator from Maine since 1847
Pulsifer elicits that while he does not claim
to be an expert in shipbuilding, he believes
that the dreadnought type of steamship
has not proved its superiority over
less expensive fighting-craft. He points
Country
Number and displacement
of all ships
Number and displacement
of battleships and armored
cruisers
Number of
large guns
(11, 12, 13
and 14 inch)
Number and displacement
of "Dreadnoughts."
(Including armored cruis-
ers as well as battleships)
Number
Tons
Number
Tons
Number
Number
Tons
Great Britain
United States
Germany _.
France
Japan
Italy*™!"!""
548
177
255
448
181
211
171
2,173,838
878,152
963,845
725,231
493,671
401,463
327,059 |
109
a 50
48
47
29
20
25
1,668,100
a 742,341
717,186
588.802
397,745
287.016
299,457
436
200
240
101
bS4
86
79
27
10
17
2
5
4
4
558,900
221,650
357,600
47,200
107,650
92,000
83,500
(a) Including Charleston, Milwaukee and St. Louis (29,100 tons). Officially the three ships are protected
cruisers. They are actually armored cruisers, and so treated by standard foreign publications.
(b) Not including armament on 27,000-ton armored cruiser (building); not known.
594
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
out that the smaller craft, such as the
"Michigan," are less unwieldy, and better
able to enter harbors and to accommodate
themselves to the many emergencies of
naval warfare, than the deep harbor
ships, yet they can concentrate as intense
My good man . . . what is the matter?
you lost your friends ? "
Have
a fire as the dreadnought. While Germany
is pushing hard to overcome Great Brit-
ain's plan of a two-power navy, the
American navy leads Germany in big guns
and is next to Great Britain in modern
fighting ships afloat.
T^HERE are said to be about fifty-seven
•*• important questions that "bob up
serenely from below" every now and then
for earnest consideration. Among them
are the divorce problem, the question
of a tariff commission and the trusts.
They are telling a joke on a government
scientist anent a problem which the
victim .claims is more puzzling than
any of the said fifty-seven. "When
traveling in strange places, it's one thing
to get in and another to get out," says
the cynic, and the tale of the government
scientist proves the statement.
It was in the station of a small Western
city, and over in the corner the scientist —
who, be it known, had won distinction
as a mathematician, a philosopher and
a chess-player — was almost in tears. He
had passed the stage of anger.
The friendly policeman who happened
to drop around on his tour of preserving
law and order, essayed to get at the root
of things. "My good man," he asked
solicitously, "what is the matter? Have
you lost your friends?"
"Sir," replied the man of note, muster-
ing his ponderous dignity, "I have mastered
the problems of Euclid; I have delved
into the depths of trigonometry; I have
played chess with the most renowned
experts; but here I am thrown into utter
confusion by a railroad time table. Oh,
woe is me!"
TV/HEN it comes to telling stories of
W bright boys, Judge Walter I. Smith,
Congressman from Iowa, always brings
to the front those brilliant youths from
A typical Washington tourist boarding a "pay
as you enter" street car
Council Bluffs, the real corn-fed Iowa
product. He tells the story of the geog-
raphy class in which the teacher on ask-
ing the usual routine of questions received
some original replies:
"What is an island?"
"Land surrounded by water."
"A cape?"
"Land extended into the water."
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
595
"Correct, John. Now tell us about a
gulf."
"A gulf is water extended into the land."
"And an isthmus?"
"A hole in the ground with water ex-
tending from ocean to ocean and where
the congressional appropriations go."
"Begorra," chuckled the Irish janitor,
who overheard the conversation, "but
this talk of water in the geography class
makes me think — I must go to Omaha
this afternoon to quinch me indignation!"
* * *
CONTRASTS may serve to heighten
the enjoyment of a speech, story or
play, but the contrast between the passen-
gers of the Washington "Rubberneck
Wagon" is as wide as the republic. The
other day a little girl from the South, not
so warmly as so prettily dressed, sat be-
side a buffalo-robed, ear-lapped visitor
from North Dakota. The winds whistled,
and the thermometer was rapidlyjapproach-
The contrast between the passengers of the
" rubberneck wagon "
ing zero. But there they sat, side by side,
while the "Rubberneck" shudderingly got
under way and meandered along from one
point of interest to another.
Suddenly while the megaphonist was
pouring forthThis choicest bits of local
description in his most silvery and melo-
dramatic ftones, the flood of rotund in-
tonation and flow of jlanguage ceased, and
a grim and painful expression convulsed
the megaphone man's perplexed features.
The passengers sat mute.
"Guess his pipes got froze!" whispered
the man from North Dakota to the miss
from New Orleans, who could only between
"As he waited for a Union Station car"
chattering teeth assent, "Ye-e-e-es." Sure
enough, frost and icicles had accumulated
in the megaphone and then everybody
shivered in sympathy.
IF you would hear cursory remarks in
^ classic language, observe the traveler on
Pennsylvania Avenue, who with suit-
case alongside, is waiting for a Union
Station car. The cars aforesaid are sup-
posed to run on schedule time and to
travel at frequent intervals, as they do,
except just before train time.
What a rare treat it was to discover a
New York newspaper man — cane in hand,
legs^crossed in^front of his suit-case in
596
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
bitter resignation, watch hanging from
his hand, and lips firmly compressed in
sarcastic despair — as he waited for a
Union Station car. As I passed by I was
possessed of a longing to soothe him, and
he greeted my advances by whistling that
old familiar tune, "Waiting for the Wagon."
Suddenly he stirred. An approaching
car was heard in the distance.
"Peace, brother, peace!" I murmured
softly to prepare him, as I discerned the
familiar letters of the sign in front. "Peace
Monument," it saidl
"Peace, be hanged!" he shouted. "That's
only half way to the station — doesn't go
"Attention to the important matter of getting
another job"
any farther than that wintry-looking in-
dividual who stands at the top of the
Avenue! This is the fourteenth Peace
Monument car that's passed here in fif-
teen minutes. By the
And thus I left him. For I, too, have
waited for a Union Station car.
HPHERE is a store of anxious nodding of
* heads and of plaintive and far-away
looks among the employes at the Capitol,
who realize that with the change of party
denomination, which takes effect on the
fourth of March, there must be especial
thought given to the important matter of
getting another job. The more one sees
of life at the Capitol, the more practical
seems to be the sentiment regarding the
uncertainty of political employment. For
the exigencies of political life are always
striking and their outcome uncertain, and
while men in public life may more than
earn the salaries they receive, there are
always others vigilant for their positions,
and seldom can credit for good service
be considered in vacating and refilling
those federal positions not under Civil
Service rules.
The number of removals now incident
to the change of party denomination in
the House of Representatives is only a
feeble snow-flurry to the blizzard of re-
movals and appointments that used to
half empty and refill residential Washing-
ton at the induction of every different
administration since that of Andrew
Jackson, who with the emphatic declara-
tion that "to the victors belong the spoils,"
straightway saw to it that all the "spoils"
in sight were divided among his followers.
The recent curtailment of the clerical
force and the change of administration has
deprived many people of government em-
ployment in Washington during 1910, but
the growth and development of the city
are increasing other lines of profitable
employment than those of the government
service.
WHILE it is generally supposed that
the best stories are reserved for
the cloak room, the most spontaneous
and original are told in those few delight-
ful moments after the Senate has ad-
journed and a cigar may be lighted and
smoked on the floor of the Senate. Then
little groups of Senators come together,
and while the Congressional Record is
grinding out history its makers refresh
themselves with an ''after-church" chat.
The question of clean money was being
discussed, and an inspection of bank
notes was in order. Most of those present
had crisp greenbacks, for the Bureau of
Printing and Engraving is in Washington,
and only clean, new money is current in
the Capital. Finally Senator Smoot,
whose position on the Finance Committee
would naturally make him an authority
on such matters, held up a bill and said:
"By the time the dollar bills get out to
Nevada, they are in a frightful condition.
That's why the people of the West prefer
silver — it's cleaner — much more sanitary,
don't you know."
Then he gave an estimate of how many
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
597
millions of germs might be collected on
the dilapidated bill.
"The question nowadays," remarked
Senator Depew, with one of his benign
smiles, "is whether the germs would have
time to escape to do any damage in course
of such rapid transit, if all the stories of
high cost of living are true. They wouldn't
have time to get off any bill that chanced
to pass through my exchequer."
A MONO the galaxy of distinguished
**• Americans convened at the Confer-
ence of Governors at Louisville, Kentucky,
none could look back to so long or so
varied a record as General Simon Bolivar
Buckner, the "grand old man" of Ken-
tucky. Born in 1823, yet still vigorous
in mind and body, he was graduated at
West Point in 1844, and almost immedi-
ately was appointed on the staff of in-
structors, but retired in time to take part
in the invasion of Mexico in 1846. At-
tached to the Sixth Regiment he was
brevetted first lieutenant for gallant
service at Contreras and Churubusco,
and in the desperate assault on the Molino
del Rey, or King's Mill, he earned a
captain's commission.
He was instructor of infantry tactics
at West Point from 1848 to 1855, when
he undertook the construction of the
Chicago Custom House, and later re-
cruited a regiment of Illinois volunteers
for an expedition against the recalcitrant
Mormons.
In 1860 he resigned his connection with
the army and began the practice of law
at Louisville, but in 1861 carried with
him into the Confederate service a large
proportion of the Kentucky state guard,
of which he was adjutant and inspector-
general. It was undoubtedly fortunate
for the federal cause that he was subord-
inate to Generals Floyd and Pillow, who
lacked his popularity, initiative and fear-
less courage, but on the evacuation of
Bowling Green he was ordered to Fort
Donelson, where he commanded a brigade,
and in three days' fighting in February,
1862, was the leading spirit of the defence.
In the sortie on the last day, he drove
back the besiegers and opened a way for
a masterly retreat southward; but General
Pillow against Buckner's strenuous pro-
test ordered the garrison back to Donelson,
and the investment of Grant's forces was
made impregnable.
Generals Floyd and Pillow made their
escape that night, but Buckner would
not leave his men, and remained to make
terms and surrender the post.
MISS JEAN BINGHAM WILSON
A prominent young society lady of Washington
General Grant, who had been a fellow-
cadet at West Point, placed his own
purse at his disposal, when General
Buckner left the front to become a prisoner
of war at Fort Warren, Boston Harbor.
Exchanged in August, he commanded
General Hardee's First Division, was
later made a major-general and fought
effectively at Murfreesboro and Chicka-
mauga. After the collapse of the Vir-
ginian defence as lieutenant-general of
Kirby Smith's trans-Mississippi army, he
598
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
Photo by Clinedinst HENRY W. SAVAGE
Who hasjachievedjremarkable success as a theatrical producer. An account of his latest production,
"Everywoman," appears in this issue of the NATIONAL. (See Page 681.)
surrendered the last fighting entity of
Confederates at Baton Rouge, Louisiana,
May 26, 1865.
He was for a while a journalist in New
Orleans, and later at Louisville, but in .
1870 returned to the home farm in Hart
County, Kentucky, where he has since
resided. When, in 1884, General Grant
was financially ruined by the rascality
of his Wall Street partner, the notorious
Ward, General Buckner visited him and
nobly repaid his debt of gratitude for the
consideration shown him after his sur-
render at Fort Donelson. No one has
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
599
ever known how largely General Grant
was indebted to him, but it was a gener-
ous and chivalrous deed, and it was with
a heavy heart that General Buckner as
pall-bearer followed his old comrade, friend,
and antagonist to his tomb in 1885.
In 1887 he was elected governor of
Kentucky, and during his term of office
advanced some fifty thousand dollars,
without interest, to the state to tide over a
temporary deficiency. He took a promi-
nent part in remodelling the State con-
stitution and in 1896 was nominated for
the vice-presidency with John M. Palmer,
the Democratic candidate.
Wealthy, influential and popular, he
loves his log cabin home, and the simple
life of a southern gentleman of the old
school, yet he is an active student of cur-
rent events and problems.
The Buckner estate is at Green River,
Kentucky, and the General has a patriotic
love for the surrounding country. Out
of his own purse he provided the funds
for the waterworks in Munfordville, the
county seat. He has also seen that a
model highway has been constructed to
the court house of Hart County. In 1896
the General was a candidate on the gold
Democratic ticket. He finds it impossi-
ble to keep out of politics.
"I guess it's in my blood," he said, "I
wish I could have kept out of politics all
my life, and then probably I would have
been a rich man. I'm living in the same
old log cabin in Hart County that I was
born in. That cabin is 103 years old.
My father built it, and it is in as good a
state of preservation today as anyone
could wish. I raise my own tobacco and
I have a fine^mint^bed, and my old dog,
General, wags his tail every time I walk
into the old front yard."
MABEL BARRYMORE
Sister of Ethel Barrymore, who is gaining well-deserved
fame in melodrama
General Buckner's scholarly attain-
ments and love of justice have long been
marked characteristics of his career. He
gives no ear to the political quarrels of
the state or nation, but just goes right
along and lives the life of a real Kentucky
gentleman.
* * *
A SURVEY of the completed census re-
** ports, which show that the population
is 101,100,000 and that of this amount
nearly 92,000,000 people live in the states,
makes one feel that the word "big" has
an appropriate place in the list of adjec-
tives enthusiastically applied by loyal
Americans.
Since the first census the country has
outgrown itself twenty-five times. From
a population of 3,500,000, slightly greater
than that of the state of Texas, the Re-
public now has nearly one hundred million
'souls.
The census is important for other
reasons than that Americans may know
600
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
that their numbers are increasing. It is
the basis on which the representation in
Congress is placed. The present ratio
of one representative to 194,000 would
lengthen out the roll-call to 495 names,
and even on the proposed 222,000 basis,
there would be 418 members.
Director Durand estimates that the
final statistics will show that more than
forty-five per cent of the country is urban,
ing tribute to a great and conscientious
judge, than that delivered by Chief
Justice White in honor of his predecessor.
After reading from a carefully prepared
manuscript a brief biographical resume,
he pronounced a eulogy whose eloquence
partook of the poetry and passion of
a great threnody.
Solemnly calling attention to the re-
sponsibilities that rested upon him, and
VIEW OF A TYPICAL AUTOMOBILE SHOW
Within the past few years the automobile has not only become a thing of pleasure but of business as well. The
pleasure is not confined to riding either, as is evidenced by the masses that always attend an automobile show
that is, residing in towns of 2,500 inhabi-
tants or more. The decline in rural
population has been quite general through-
out the middle western section of the coun-
try, but the director says this is not by
any means due to lack of agricultural
prosperity.
HTHERE has seldom been uttered within
•*• the walls of the Supreme Court at
Washington a more impressive and touch-
embodying a reverent aspiration of prayer
for help in realizing the duties of the high-
est tribunal, and coming between the swell
and counter-swell of the Tobacco and
Standard Oil cases, this remarkable ad-
dress became even more impressive by
way of contrast.
Throughout the session of Congress, the
Supreme Court room has been crowded
with auditors, and many hundreds of
members of the bar have been crowded
out. This revives the demand for plans to
602
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
erect a new Supreme Court Building or
Department of Justice, where adequate
quarters can be provided for the hearings
of grest causes before their final and
definite settlement. There is talk of build-
ing a tribunal as a companion structure to
the handsome Library of Congress.
£. The Chief Justice made the circuit
assignments as follows:
The chief justice takes the fourth circiut,
including Maryland, West Virginia, Vir-
Their assignments were read by the
various members with much the same
interest as itinerants consult the lists sent
out by the Bishop of a Methodist Con-
ference.
AS the associate of twenty-six of the
*»• sixty-two men who have ever had a
seat on the Supreme Bench, Justice John
Marshall Harlan is rounding out a third of
"PARRAMATTA," THE NEW SUMMER HOME OF PRESIDENT TAFT AT BEVERLY
ginia, North Carolina and South Carolina;
Justice Harlan, the sixth circuit, including
Ohio, Michigan, Kentucky! and Tennessee;
Justice McKenna, ^ the ninth circuit, con-
sisting of the Pacific coast states;- Justice
Holmes, the first circuit, including Maine,
NewiHampshire, Massachusetts and Rhode
Island; Justice Day, the seventh circuit,
including Indiana, Illinois and Wisconsin;
Justice Lurton, the third circuit, including
New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Delaware;
Justice Hughes, the second circuit, including
Vermont, Connecticut and New York;
Justice Van Devanter, the eighth circuit,
including Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, Ar-
kansas, LNebraska, Colorado, Kansas, North
Dakota, South Dakota, Oklahoma, Wyoming,
Utah and New Mexico, and Justice Lamar,
the fifth circuit, including Georgia, Florida,
Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana and Texas.
a century in the highest tribunal of the
United States, and at the age of nearly seven-
ty-eight he retains keen mental faculties and
physical powers. Nearly all the important
litigation that appears in the Supreme
Court docket since 1877 bears his name,
and if the "Grand Old Man" of the Su-
preme Court continues another year and a
half on the bench, he will exceed the
service of any previous member of that
august body, including that of the cele-
brated Chief Justice Marshall.
Justice Harlan sits at the left of Chief
Justice White, and is the most picturesque
figure of the Supreme Court. His rugged,
clean-cut face and dignified, erect form
604
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
are regarded as being the fixed type of
a Supreme Court Justice. Whether in the
black robe on the bench, or on the lecture
platform before an interested throng of
law students, Justice Harlan is just
the same genial, hearty, earnest soul that
won the honor and love of all his Kentucky
friends in the days of long ago.
CORNER IN THE LIBRARY OF PRESIDENT
TAFT'S NEW SUMMER HOME
IN BEVERLY
A GRANDSON of Sir William E. Glad-
•*"*• stone, that Grand Old Man of English
leadership, is now at Washington as at-
tache to the British Embassy, after having
served as secretary to Lord Aberdeen,
the viceroy of Ireland. William Glynn
Charles Gladstone is a graduate of Oxford,
where he was distinguished as a speaker
of the celebrated Union Club.
He is the heir of the Hawarden estate,
and when I saw him at Washington, it
recalled a visit made some years ago to
the famous old Hawarden Castle on that
beautiful autumn day in 1894. Crippled
children from a nearby institution in which
Mrs. Gladstone took a great interest, were
playing happily among the great oak
trees. I came up by way of the River
Dee, on whose banks are the trees which
inspired Morris's familiar song, "Woodman,
Spare That Tree." It was an experience
never to be forgotten, when the aged
statesman extended a cordial greeting to
his young American admirer.
Hawarden Castle was the property of
his brother-in-law, Sir Stephen Glynne,
who left the estate to William Ewart
Gladstone in trust for his grandson. The
veteran statesman carefully developed
the resources of the estate and made it
one of the most attractive in England.
The present attache of the English em-
bassy, who, under the will of his mother's
father, Lord Blantyre, also fell heir to
the stately London mansion in Berkeley
Square, has a country estate of world-
wide interest, and a splendid city residence.
Mr. Gladstone takes a keen interest in
affairs American, and is highly esteemed
by all who have met him officially or in
society. His stay in America with so
distinguished and experienced a diplo-
matist as Ambassador James L. Bryce
is especially appreciated by the young
man whose family traditions would seem
to ensure for him a great and useful career,
and who bears the name of a grandsire
whose name is revered in America.
VJ7HEN you write an important letter
** be sure to place a return stamp upon
it or have something on or in it indicating
your exact address. At the Dead Letter
auction every year the increasing national
carelessness in correspondence, sends over
a hundred thousand letters and parcels
to be auctioned off by the Post Office
Department. This year the net revenue
from this sale amounted to $8,749.75, and
among the auctioned matter were more
than 73,000 parcels and catalogued items.
At the sale there are always a number of
bidders ready to take a chance of finding
contents of value in the letters and parcels
from the Dead Letter Office, and it is
needless to say that myriads of tragedies
and comedies can be read between the
lines of these waifs of the great ocean of
postal communications.
All know how even in the most un-
eventful life the receipt or loss of an ex-
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
605
pected letter has given pleasure or ex-
cited apprehension, and these letters,
which can never reach those to whom they
are addressed, or be returned to the
writers who can never receive an answer,
may often represent great and abiding
sorrows to careless and blundering corre-
spondents.
TV7HENEVER you hear anyone criti-
™ cizing the Panama Canal just ask
him "Have you been there?" Never
have I found any critical soul who could
answer that question in the affirmative.
It was refreshing to hear from the lips of
so noted an engineer as Mr. Isham Ran-
dolph that the old terror of landslides does
not now occasion even conversation on
the Isthmus.
The absurd report that the Gatun lake
will be larger than Lake Michigan, with
its area of 22,000 square miles, is worthy
of Baron Munchausen of untruthful mem-
ory, since there are only 164 square miles
of water area in the Gatun Dam. But
even so it makes no difference how great
an area the Gatun Dam covers — the
question is the depth of water and the
consequent pressure back of the dam.
The work on the Isthmus is the one great
sight of the world to see, and the Hamburg-
American steamers are taxed to their ca-
pacity in accommodating the increasing
number of excursionists. Various other
attractions are being planned this year,
including an aeroplane flight by Clifford
B. Harmon, from Colon to Panama.
This feat is said to be one of the most
hazardous projects ever attempted, owing
to the trade winds which blow steadily from
Colon south to the city of Panama at
sixteen miles an hour with many cross
currents prevailing. It is believed that
the flight will be made at a height of 500
feet or higher in order to avoid the air
currents which eddy about the hills.
Box kites will be used as guiding the route,
one above Gatun, one above Bohio, and
a third above Tabernilla. The jungle
States that Gatun Lake will be larger than Lake Michigan
606
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
and swamp lands afford few available
landing places, but flags will be hoisted
to show these. It is anticipated that
more people from the states will visit the
Panama celebration than have ever at-
tended any of the expositions held in the
United States.
The manufacture of the great gates at
the Gatun locks has already begun, and
will be followed shortly by the work at
Pedro Miguel. Forty-six mitering gates
will be required for the canal locks, and
these will involve the use of 58,000 tons
MARIAN KENT KURD
One of the younger school of American writers
of steel. The larger part of the material
called for by the specifications was of
special design, and $100,000 worth of
additional machinery had to be installed
by the manufacturers in order to make
these gates. Single pieces of steel weigh-
ing eighteen tons will be used for lower
girders, seven feet deep. Above these will
be a series of girders, and over the structure
thus formed a sheathing of watertight
plates will be riveted like the sheathing
of a vessel. The entire construction will
be on an immense scale. Each gate will
consist of two leaves whose weights will
vary. The largest leaf will weigh about
600 tons, and will be thirty-seven and one-
half feet high, sixty-four feet long and
seven feet deep.
The installation of these gates indicates
the rapid approach to completion of the
great work at Panama, and the throngs
'of tourists are enthusiastic in an appreci-
ation of the great undertaking.
""THE first of the state levees given at
* the White House was a reception to
the Diplomatic Corps. The splendid court
dress of the foreign diplomatic representa-
tives is always very impressive in the
eyes of the American girl, and the Marine
Band in their brilliant scarlet uniforms
never discoursed more exquisite music.
The buglers announced the arrival of the
presidential party with stirring trumpet
calls that inspired Washington's "ragged
Continentals" in revolutionary days, and
the Guest Room and the historic East
Room and the doors of the state dining-
room were thrown open for the elaborate
supper.
After eleven o'clock the ball began in
the East Room and continued until after
midnight. President Taft, with his niece,
Miss Harriet Anderson, appeared on the
floor for one number, and he seemed to enjoy
the dance as heartily as the younger men
about him. Mrs. Taft did not partici-
pate in the dancing, but received the com-
pliments of the guests all during the re-
ception. Miss Helen Taft, the White
House debutante, was of course the center
of all eyes, and her young beauty and
quiet, sensible carriage won universal
admiration. There is a growing convic-
tion that the social amenities of the country
should draw their inspiration from the
White House, which should be the arbiter
of those delicate questions of etiquette
among politicians which have always been
a disturbing problem in Washington
society. Heretofore there has been a de-
velopment of many cliques at Washing-
ton— the administration, the diplomatic,
the judicial, the senatorial, the con-
gressional, the army and navy and so
many other cliques that the tick of the
social clock has been altogether con-
fusing. Consequently certain rules are
being established to meet the emergencies
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
607
that arise from those seeking admission to
the portals of Washington society. It is
felt that all rules of social etiquette
should emanate from the White House,
and that the gay social worlds of New
York, Boston, Philadelphia and Chicago
should be given due notice that the Presi-
dent, with his family, has a certain social
as well as a political prestige commanding
due consideration in giving honor to
the position to which he has been chosen
by the sovereign people.
AMONG the retiring Representatives in
*"* the Sixty-first Congress, few are
credited with a more honorable record in
the House than Mr. Joseph A. Goulden of
New York City. Most capably and cred-
itably has he represented the largest
district of the country, and he has retired
voluntarily, feeling that he has earned his
holiday. For eight years Mr. Goulden
has represented the New York District,
with its 500,000 people, the Bronx and
upper Harlem, and although a fifth term
was offered him for the Sixty-second
Congress, he felt that his record would
entitle him to honorable retirement.
As a member of the Committee on Mer-
chant Marine and Fisheries, Mr. Goulden's
active work in the establishment of laws
safeguarding human life on passenger and
freight vessels is a matter of record in the
annals of the Sixtieth and Sixty-first
Congress. Over $2,000,000 has been se-
cured by Mr. Goulden for various river
appropriations in his district, including
$100,000 for a memorial to Christopher
Columbus and $225,000 for the site of a
Federal building in the Borough of the
Bronx, to say nothing of smaller appropri-
ations for repairs on the Statue of Liberty,
and for the erection of two lighthouses
on the East River shore.
During the Civil War, Congressman
Goulden served in the Union navy, and
has been the leading spirit of the Grand
Army posts of New York City for many
years, during which time the magnificent
Soldiers' Monument on Riverside Drive
was erected. He is a member of the
Board of Trustees of the New York
Soldiers' Home, where two thousand old
veterans are peacefully spending the sun-
set of life. Mr. Goulden's activity in
teaching the work of patriotism and civic
loyalty in the public schools has been
especially appreciated by educators
throughout the country, and has won for
him the love and honor of many young
Americans.
While traveling on the Lackawanna
Railway some years ago, Mr. Goulden
Photo copyright by Harris &• Ewing
HON. JOSEPH A. GOULDEN
Member of Congress from New York City
noticed a G. A. R. button on the coat lapel
of a fellow-traveler. A conversation was
begun, and the two veterans sat up far
into the night talking over the old war
days and the American republic, its past
and future. Then they spoke of -their
personal experiences in civil life, of -their
families and business, and though j they
never met again, a life-long > friendship
was established. The comrade]v spoke j^of
his boys and of their ambition in magazine
work, and Congressman Goulden has
608
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
remained ever since an interested friend
of the NATIONAL. To the appreciation
of his splendid public service must be
added this personal word regarding Mr.
Goulden's association with one whose
memory is held dear.
~, But this is only characteristic of Con-
gressman Goulden's life work. Although
a resident of New York City, with all its
whirl and breathless activity, his kindly
ways and earnest effort in behalf not only
of his own constituents, but of everyone
{SENATOR HENRY CABOT LODGE AND HIS
DAUGHTER, MRS. J. P. GARDNER
with whom he has come in contact, have
had their part in making up one of those
records which will illumine the pages of
Congressional biography.
•"THE re-election of Senator Henry Cabot
•*• Lodge to the Senate is the well-earned
tribute of the old Bay State to one of
the ablest men in public life. There was
a touch of old-time friendship in the
special trip which Colonel Roosevelt made
to Massachusetts during the heat of the
campaign in New York, to speak for his
old friend Lodge. It was a revelation
of Colonel Roosevelt's broad grasp of
national affairs, and his constancy to
his friends.
In the early days, the two stood stead-
fastly together against the tide of mug-
wumpism; associated in their literary
work, they have since been inseparable
companions in public and private life.
Senator Lodge has long been recognized
as an astute student of public affairs,
and as a speaker, his rich, mellifluous
Voice has always been heard for progres-
sive and effective measures since he won
a seat in Congress after a hard-fought
battle on the stump.
As chairman of the Republican National
Convention in 1908, the senior Senator
from Massachusetts set a standard for
future conventions that has never been
surpassed by a presiding officer. In the
trying position of holding in check the
sentiment for his friend Theodore Roose-
velt, and in effecting the 'nomination of
William Howard Taft, he showed him-
self to be a master-hand in statecraft,
Every speech, every announcement, to
that great assembly, was given with con-
scientious fairness; his ability as a public
man was never more clearly demonstrated
than on this great occasion, which was
potential in securing the Taft nomination.
An acknowledged authority on inter-
national questions, Senator Lodge's un-
relenting championship of New England
ideals and interests, 'always maintaining
a national breadth of. view, has made a
deep impression upon the history of his
times. The Commonwealth of Massa-
chusetts has done itself honor in returning
to the Senate a worthy successor of Charles
Sumner, and one of the strong and pre-
eminent leaders of his day..
The whirlwind campaign made for him
under the direction of Hon. Norman H.
White did much to arouse the sentiment
along the lines of progressive and ag-
gressive Republican campaigning.
The speech delivered by Senator Lodge
at Symphony Hall during the last of the
campaign was one of the most eloquent
heard in Boston since the days of Webster,
Sumner and other orators of the stirring
scenes of the Civil War. The address
not only thrilled his audience but wherever
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
609
read touched the hearts of the Massa-
chusetts born and swept away all per-
sonal and partisan differences in an ap-
preciation of a patriotic utterance. In
giving an account of his public career
Senator Lodge said:
"To this love I add the deep gratitude I
feel to the people of Massachusetts for the
confidence they have so long reposed in me.
No matter what the future may have in
store, that gratitude which comes from my
heart can never be either chilled or lessened.
To be Senator from Massachusetts has been
the pride of my life. I have put aside great
offices, for to me no public place, except one
to which I never aspired, has seemed equal
to that which I held, and there was assuredly
none which could so engage my affections.
"I have valued the high positions given
me in the Senate, because they meant large
opportunity and testified to the trust and
confidence of my associates. But I prize
them most, because they gave to Massa-
chusetts the place which is her due in the
councils of the nation."
A S Senator Hale of Maine made his
*"• dignified way to the sartorial shop
of the Senate, there was just a gleam of
humor in his eye as he spoke of the cap-
ture of the House of Representatives by
the Democrats. Inasmuch as they had
won the victory, he insisted, there should
be no effort made to rob the party of its
natural inheritance. He seemed unusually
cheerful in the anticipation of his retire-
ment to private life, with its prospects of
escaping the arduous work which has rep-
resented his life program for many years.
The Senator is still an ardent advocate
of the Ocean Steamship Bill, which he
feels will do much toward developing our
trade with Central and South America.
He scoffs at the rumor of an extra session
of Congress, and quotes Champ Clark's
statement that the boarding-house keepers,
hotel managers and newspapers would
keep Congress in session the entire year
if they could.
Whisperings of an alliance between the
so-called Insurgent forces and the Demo-
cratic party are given no credence by
Senator Hale, "now or ever." Neither
does he contemplate a long ascendency for
the Democrats, and he feels that the leaders
of that party will find in the coming
Congress that immense responsibilities and
burdens will tax their powers to the ut-
most. A special tribute was paid to the
real patriotism, conservatism and sense
of President Taft in bringing the Repub-
lican party together for the great contest
of 1912, and the interview was closed with
a pertinent quotation: "Whom the Lord
lo veth He chasteneth . ' ' But with his usual
optimism Senator Hale sees in the de-
velopments of 1910 that good will yet come
to his party.
* * *
I ONG- before he came into prominence
*— ' as prospective Speaker-elect of the
House of Representatives, Champ Clark
NORMAN H. WHITE
Who managed Senator Lodge's campaign
became, as he has ever since continued
to be, one of the picturesque characters
of Washington. It was a rare treat to
sit down with him at one of the tiny tables
of the lunch room where the plebeian
public are wont to dine and join him in
digesting a piece of pumpkin pie (and be
sure to call it "pungkin"). It seems to be
more to the liking of Champ Clark to eat
with "the common folks" than to take
his place in the inner sanctum marked
"Members Only."
Genial Mr. Clark is always ready for
a chat. His own taking lectures on
"Picturesque Public Men," he told me,
610
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
CAPTAIN ROBERT E. PEARY, WHOM THE CONGRESSIONAL COMMITTEE HAVE DECIDED
MISSED THE NORTH POLE BY A LITTLE OVER A MILE
were along the same lines as "Affairs at
Washington" in the NATIONAL, and they
were the most popular of his entire reper-
toire. The lecture has been delivered
several hundred times by Mr. Clark, and
for this work he has received twenty or
thirty thousand dollars. His "picturesque
characters" go back to the Fifty-third
Congress, and he keeps trying out descrip-
tions of different public men. He told
how he had prepared an exquisite word
picture of a gentleman very prominent
some years ago, but it never seemed to
take, for the man was a true "gentleman of
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
611
the old school," and the lecture dealt with
him as a memory of a past generation.
"Our people seem to want things right up
to date," he insisted, "and one of the most
interesting influences of my public career
has been the keen and lively interest
which the people have always taken in
their public men of all political parties."
Mr. Clark's real Christian name is
James Beauchamp, but there was such an
abundance of James Clarks that he in-
duced people to call him by his second
name. Folks out Missouri way pro-
nounce Beauchamp "Beecham" instead
of "Bo-shorn," which offended Mr. Clark's
ear, so naturally and inevitably he became
Champ Clark after his initiation to the
field of politics.
Opposite the restaurant in the corner
of the House wing of the Capitol Mr. Clark
has a special room on whose door there is
a tiny plate with the simple inscription "Mr.
Champ Clark." Here it has been convenient
for him to keep watch of things on the
floor, but now some Republican mem-
ber will occupy this room while Mr. Clark
moves up to the Speaker's headquarters
on the floor above in the opposite corner
of the wing.
* *, *
A FTER a lecture recently delivered
•**• by Colonel Mosby, in a Northern
city, there was a little reception that
further emphasizes the passing of all
sectional feeling. Here was the Con-
federate partisan who of all his rank had
made the most trouble for the Union in
Virginia, and who even now possesses
much of the fire and spirit of the days
when he was a cavalry officer in gray,
addressing a Northern audience, and
receiving the hearty and affectionate
greetings of the Union veterans of '61.
In his lectures Colonel Mosby, while
respecting Northern sensibilities, accu-
rately reflects Southern sentiment and
ideas. He never fails to pay a merited
tribute to his former foes — who in the
old days had to keep a vigilant watch and
ward against "Mosby's Guerillas."
the Senate, leaning on the arm of his
father's old colleague, to be sworn.
Faultlessly attired and in the prime of
young manhood, his virility and firm
features still recall something of the
dominant power of the late Senator from
West Virginia. After affixing his signa-
ture with the firm hand and business dash
of a young man who for some years has
been at the head of a twelve-million dollar
corporation, he was introduced by Senator
have I witnessed a more touch -
ing tribute to the memory of a de-
ceased Senator than when Mr. Davis
Elkins marched down the center aisle of
HON. CHAMP CLARK OF MISSOURI
Scott to many of his father's former asso-
ciates, and as they gathered about the
newly elected Senator with words of
welcome and congratulation from Demo-
crats as well as from Republicans, his
reception was a tribute to his father's
memory such as no floral offerings, no
resolutions, none of the other usual
tributes, could express.
For this was the son of Stephen B.
Elkins, and to him all his father's friends
extended a greeting that for the time
mellowed the austerity of the august
assembly of Senators. With a hearty
612
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
SENOR DON EPIFANIO PORTELA
Ambassador from the Argentine Republic to the United States
handclasp he met them, but when he
stood at his father's desk, the seat in the
front row from which the crape band of
official mourning had been but recently
removed, it w#,s a touching scene and all
eyes were centered upon him.
An especially tender tribute to the
memory of his colleague was exemplified
in Senator Scott's fatherly interest in
the son. For twelve years Nathan Bay
Scott and Stephen B. Elkins had been
friends; never a word of disagreement
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
613
passed between them, something unusual
in two Senators from the same state.
There has never been an Elkins faction
or a Scott faction in West Virginia.
When Senator Elkins made his campaign
for re-election, no one was more active
in his behalf than Senator Scott, and after
the ceremonies of young Elkins' initiation,
Senator Scott once more looked over
the last letter ever penned by his de-
ceased friend. It was only a brief note
filled with friendly regard, but it seemed
to contain a premonition that it was a
word of farewell to his beloved colleague.
In his characteristic way of doing things
promptly, Senator Scott had arranged
to have the new Senator sworn in just
as soon as possible after his appointment
was forwarded by Governor Glasscock.
A special train brought the party to
Washington, and an automobile whisked
the young man to the Senate Chamber,
where he was made a Senator the same
day of his appointment.
Upstairs in the Committee Room,
Miss Elkins, Mrs. Oliphant and Stephen
B. Elkins, Junior, had arrived just
too late to see their brother sworn into
office. In the President's Room of the
Senate many friends from West Virginia
had gathered, and there was a suspicion
of moistened eyes as they loo*ked upon
the young man, with all his enthusiasm,
ready to take the place and assume the
labors of his revered father. He was
saying that as a boy, his father used to
alarm him by saying that he could never
be a Senator if he did this or that. Senator
Davis Elkins has evidently taken hold of
his new duties with the same characteristic
energy with which his father resumed
Senatorial labors when he was returned
from West Virginia after having repre-
sented the Territory of New Mexico in
Congress. He has but recently passed his
thirtieth year, the required age for a
United States Senator according to the
Constitution.
Seldom has a young American entered
the political arena seemingly better fitted
to win popular favor by a gracious and
pleasing personality, and a determination
to get right at the root of things in an
incisive, business-like way. Everybody
warmed to him at once as he shook hands
with a heartiness that was refreshing in
this chamber whose denizens are noted
for staid dignity. He will not occupy
his father's desk, as the old custom pre-
vails that the seats be filed upon and taken
in regular seniority.
Speaking of the method of filing upon
seats recalls the case of Senator Root,
who as a mere matter of form made
application for Senator Hale's seat after
the filing had also been made by the late
HON. GEORGE SUTHERLAND
Utah's junior member of the United States Senate
Senator Dolliver. It was little thought
at that time that the Senator from Maine
would leave his desk for years to come,
but his retirement, which takes effect the
fourth of March, and Senator Dolliver 's
death, will give Senator Root the very
desirable seat of the Senator from Maine.
Senator Davis Elkins was born in
Washington while his father was a member
of Congress, and his early years are asso-
ciated with Washington and Washington
life. His success in business affairs was
the pride and delight of his father, al-
614
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
though he always hoped and intended
that his son should enter the field in which
he had been active for nearly fifty years.
When his friends addressed the young
man as "Senator" he remarked that it
seemed "odd." He thought it might take
some time to become accustomed to the
salutation, and was determined to do
things to deserve the distinction. The
following day he appeared in the Senate
in a business suit, and he can be relied
upon to be prompt and alert in his treat-
ment of all matters that come to his desk,
and to give to his constituents the best
that is in him to fill out his father's
term creditably.
OCTAVE THANET, THE AUTHORESS, IN HER
ARKANSAS HOME GARDEN
AT the Sixth Annual Convention of
•**• the American Civic Association held
in Washington at the New Willard, were
gathered many men who have been active
in increasing the beauty of American
cities. The president, Mr. J. Horace
McFarland, has long been identified with
this work, and the beautiful city of Harris-
burg clearly shows the value of the organi-
zation's efforts. Mr. Richard B. Watrous
of Washington is the secretary, and
an active officer he is in every sense
of the word. His report on "The Year's
Work" told of what had been accomplished
by the association during the year, and
the efforts proposed for the year to come.
The entire week's program was of inter-
est, reflecting much important work accom-
plished by the various clubs throughout the
country. At one of the afternoon sessions,
Secretary of the Treasury MacVeagh pre-
sided, and an address by Mr. Frederick
Olmsted, on the "A B C of City Plan-
ning," gave valuable initial suggestions as
to the best way of making a city beautiful.
The paper deserves wide circulation.
From New England to the Gulf and
Pacific coast came the enthusiastic
delegates, and among the subjects taken
up the house-fly was discussed with due
acerbity and spirit. The fly-fighting
committee, headed by Mr. Edward Hatch,
Junior, was fortunate in securing a number
of brilliant speakers, among them the
Chief Entomologist of the Agricultural
Department, Professor L. 0. Howard,
who spoke on "The Typhoid Fly . " Various
notable addresses followed on "The Menace
of the Fly," by Dr. Woods Hutchinson,
of New York, Mr. Leroy Boughner of
Minneapolis and Mr. Watrous.
The Convention ended in a most delight-
ful reception tendered by Hon. and Mrs.
John B. Henderson. An active campaign
on beautifying home, city and country, was
planned for the coming year, to be directed
from the headquarters at Washington.
""THE dreams of idealists as to the real
^ meaning of the public welfare clause
are being realized in the action of Major
George O. Squier of the Signal Corps of
the Army. For some years he has been
making wireless experiments which enable
one to send several messages over the same
wire at the same time.
The four patents for multiplex telephony,
which were issued to Major Squier, were
transferred by him "to the people of the
United States," for the Major felt that it
would not be proper for him as an officer
in the United States Army to profit by his
invention. The successful tests made
show that conversation or music can be
carried by wireless transmission guided
by a wire, and the system has already been
installed between the research laboratory
of the Signal Corps at the bureau of stan-
dards at Chevy Chase, Maryland, and the
construction laboratory of the Signal
Corps at 1710 Pennsylvania Avenue,
Washington.
In view of the fact that the American
Telephone & Telegraph Company has
twelve million miles of wire in operation
and that that company spent duringjthe
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
615
first six months of 1910 more than twenty-
one million dollars for the construction of
telegraph and telephone equipment, the
multiplex system of telephony, lessening
the requirements for new wires, would
seem to be of special value to that company.
Major Squier says that anyone is at
liberty to use the invention and that not
a penny is expected by the inventor for
royalty. The patents have bee"n duly
taken out by "the people of the United
States," and are fully protected in foreign
countries.
Major Squier hails from Michigan, and
declares that his labor has been inspired by
a love of science and devotion to duty.
He says that as long as the United States
Government pays him a salary every
month he feels that everything he does be-
longs to the government.
The Major studied under Professor
Rowland, the inventor of the multiplex
telegraph system at the Johns Hopkins
University, and " received the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy in 1893, and since
his entrance | to the Signal Corps has done
much for commercial America.
U"AR more unerringly than by any
* weather bureau prediction, the ap-
proach of spring is indicated by the gleam
of the piscatorial fervor that irradiates
the eyes of Senator Frye of Maine just
before the opening of the fishing season.
During the winter while the streams are
ice-bound and the spruce trees are white
with snow, the Senator loves, now and
then, to relate a fish story.
He tells of a memorable trip on which
Senator Spooner joined him at his choicest
trout stream. They had it all arranged,
after having called into counsel a reliable
fish-dealer and a trustworthy expressman,
that a box of trout should arrive every
other day at Senator Frye's home to
indicate the success with which they were
casting the fly.
The plan worked beautifully— "of course
we caught some and some we didn't" —
but the expressman was fairly regular
in the weight of fish forwarded, and the
prepaid charges were about the same
from day to day. All went well until
one day a dispatch came from the Frye
domicile :
"Rush two more boxes smoked herring.
They are great. Are the salt mackerel
running also?"
There was a busy time with the wires
just then, for the fish dealer had got his
orders mixed, and instead of shipping
fresh trout to Frye's home, he had sent
herring — thoroughly smoked. But the
Senator was equal to it. Camp supplies
had been mixed with the fish caught that
day — of course. He hastened his reply:
"You received the bait by mistake.
Nothing but smoked herring will ever catch
fresh trout, you know."
Senator Spoonec usually concludes the
tale truthfully by giving the return
message :
"Received the bait, and taken it sic — hook
and all."
TTHERE is always a fascination in watch-
* ing others work — whether it is a
building under construction or a farmer
afield or one of the great departments at
Washington.
On a November day they were "closing
the forms" of the annual reports in the
various departments. In the office of the
Secretary of the Navy the Admirals were
looking over the last details to see that
nothing was left out in the report
and nothing lacking in the personnel of
the Navy and the operations of each de-
partment.
Ever since his entrance into public life
Secretary George von L. Meyer has been
indefatigable and enthusiastic in the per
formance of his official duties. Many of
the innovations proposed by him as Post-
master General have become crystallized
into law, and his practicality in the adop-
tion of new ideas shows that he is ever on
the watch that his services shall bear
fruit in public [economies as well as in
lofty ideals.
For the first time in all federal history,
$2,700,000 was turned back into the United
States Treasury by the Navy Department
out of the Naval Supply Fund. It seems
rather singular in the annals of reports
to find a fund liquidated and money turned
back into the Treasury. . .
616
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
Even more significant is the statement
that the estimates for 1912 are five million
dollars less than the appropriation of a
year ago. There is usually a difference
between the estimates furnished and the
appropriations made, for estimates are
nearly always larger than the amounts
rcomemended by the committee on ap-
propriations. In this case, however, it is
MAJOR GEORGE O. SQUIER
The inventor of multiplex telephony
believed that the amount asked for by
the Secretary will be promptly "passed"
by the committee and found adequate.
The systems inaugurated by Secretary
Meyer to keep in close touch with all the
details of the Navy Department, are also
detailed in the annual report. During
the summer Mr. Meyer made a report
as to the naval power of the leading
nations, founded on information of whose
reliability and value he was fully cognizant.
When the Secretary is at his desk,
he works with the spirit of an active
business man, who seeks certain well-
defined results from well-matured and
definite plans and investigation.
S~\ JOY unconfined!" exclaimed an
^-^ enthusiastic fly-fisherman, as he
read the report of United States Fish
Commissioner, George M. Bowers, an-
nouncing that after forty years of effort
the Chinook salmon of Pacific waters had
been introduced into the lakes and rivers
of the Atlantic seaboard.
During the season of 1910, a number
of lucky anglers in Lake Sunapee, New
Hampshire, have taken Chinook salmon
weighing from three to ten pounds each,
and other localities will probably be
fairly well stocked with this gamy and
delicious Pacific salmon within a few years.
During the year the commission dis-
tributed throughout the Republic over
three thousand, two hundred and thirty-
three millions of living fish and fish eggs,
exceeding the record of 1909 four per cent.
This statement means that fished-out
streams and lakes, inland ponds and
hitherto tenantless brooks have been
sown with living seed or tiny fry, and
these often of species and value far su-
perior to the former scaly denizens of
the lake, pond, or stream. The researches
of Agassiz, the more practical and extended
labors of Baird, Verrill and Goode, his
lieutenants and successors, laid broadly
and deeply the foundations of the exist-
ing national and state commissions which
have added incalculably to the pleasure,
food supply and resources of our people.
The report estimates the invested
capital of the fishery interests of the
United States at $95,000,000, and the
average annual income at $62,000,000
(profits), but this is by no means the
real limit of practical profit. Millions of
dollars would be lost to Maine yearly if
her lake salmon and trout fisheries were
lost through any folly or misfortune, and
this is true to a greater or less extent of
every community in which the disciple
of good old Izaak Walton can still find
"good fishing" and a comfortable hos-
telry at the close of his day's labors.
Jleto OTtorfe at fEusfegee 3fa£tttute
By JOE MITCHELL CHAPPLE
HEN you can pronounce
"Che-haw" with that
inimitable limpid liquid
accent of the Indian
tongue, then the initiated
will know that you have
visited Tuskegee — for at
Chehaw you last change cars for Tuskegee.
Booker Washington's school town is not
located on the railroad maps, but a Pull-
man porter thousands of miles away told
me how to go to Chehaw — no "geehaw"
joke here — on the way to Tuskegee, where,
perhaps, the most notable institution of
learning in the world's history has been
established. For the work at Tuskegee
Institute deals with the destiny of a race.
The train was late, but I did not care,
for there was something fascinating in
winding around among the Alabama hills,
with red-hued soil, looking for the buildings
which I had come to see; — the buildings,
plant and equipment which represented
the life-work that a noble, energetic, un-
selfish man, the son
of a slave mother,
has done and is doing
for his race.
One can see plain-
ly enough that the
soil about Tuskegee
is not the dark, rich
loam of the Delta,
but in spite of that,
on either side of the
road are fields that
show the thrift born
•of effort and con-
quest. And one of
the Tuskegan pro-
fessors has discov-
ered mineral on the
land which makes
the finest prussian
blue, with by-prod-
ucts of pure green
and red dyestuffs. -BOOKER^TALIAPERRO WASHINGTON
(617J
When I first heard Booker T. Washing-
ton speak years ago, I felt the charm of
his simple, frank and hopeful story and
comment. His whole attitude seemed to
be so practical, so sensible, so earnest,
that I felt a personal interest in his plans
and purposes. His biography tells the
story of Tuskegee.
Tuskegee had enjoyed a reputation for
learning that had clustered for many years
— long before the war its schools for white
people were the envy of surrounding
counties. In 1881 a small schoolhouse
was planned there with a modest appro-
priation of $2,500 for Negro education — a
frame building with a typical belfry — and
this called for a teacher. From Hamp-
ton Institute in Virginia came young
Booker T. Washington, and no sooner
had he arrived and taken his seat on the
rostrum of that little old frame building,
a rep>lica of which is still preserved on the
grounds, than he began to paint a picture
of what should exist on those hills round-
about. The trans-
formation has been
nothing short of
magical. A splendid
assembly hall recent-
ly completed, the
great dormitories ,
the library, the of-
fice, the campus, the
barns, experimental
station, industrial
buildings — where al-
most every practical
and useful trade is
taught and where
every duty known
to home-making is a
part of the obliga-
t o r y instruction —
can you compute
what all this means?
There is a sugges-
tion of Harvard on
618
NEW WORK AT TUSKEGEE INSTITUTE
the entrance gates with their massive
pillars, and the brass bas relief presented
by the students as an eloquent expression
of gratitude to the memory of the late
William Baldwin, Jr. Around the ad-
ministration offices the vines cling with
just that touch of picturesque beauty
that makes the memories of Tuskegee
ever pleasant in the mind of its
graduates.
The enthusiasm with which every under-
graduate and everyone about the building
SOUTHERN IMPROVEMENT COMMUNITY
SCHOOLHOUSE
seemed ready to tell of their work, and the
respect and honor in which they held Dr.
Washington, was most impressive.
From Dr. Washington's simple office,
with its bouquet of flowers, the air of
gentle refinement is radiated. On the
walls are the portraits of those who have
done much to help him in his work,
among them that of a colored lady, lately
deceased, who left her fortune of thirty-
eight thousand dollars to Tuskegee.
From a cosy room in Rockefeller Hall
one can view the crest of the hill, and not
far away is Greenwood, where many
of the faculty of Tuskegee reside.
Standing in the balcony of the Assembly
Building, watching the students, what a
charm there was in hearing grace chanted
in weird minor and later the old Negro
hymns and plantation melodies played
by the orchestra and band. For the
colored people do love their music. In
the Carnegie Library of fifteen thousand
volumes an assembly room is used for
lectures by the senior and graduate stu-
dents; there is also a seminary room where
the students who are preparing essays
may work.
The Y. M. C. A., under the efficient
charge of Mr. J. D. Stevenson, has been
doing notable work, and the deportment
and character of Tuskegee students tell
an effective story.
The students, wearing uniforms made
at Tuskegee, have a dignified bearing,
and are keenly interested in sports and
athletics. Ever since the school was
established an exemplary military discipline
has been in force. Mr. J. H. Washington
initiated the work, which is now in charge
of Major J. B. Ramsey. The night
school furnishes two battalions of four
companies each, and the day school a
third battalion of five companies. The
officers are chosen from the senior class,
and there is not a day that a fire drill
is not sounded, nor an hour in which the
real dignity of duty is not recognized.
In one of the industrial buildings the
girls were making hats and dresses,
also fancy baskets and adornments for
the homes. The laundry was a model of
neatness. The seniors, girls with matronly
air, were preparing "the homes" for guests,
and a delightful dinner.
In the kitchen the old Colonel put down
the kettle a moment to tell me: "Yassah,
RISING STAR MODEL SCHOOLHOUSE
Ah 'membahs many's a time when we'se
gone hungry 'spectin' when that whistle
blew it'd bring a cheque from Mistah
Wash'n'ton, sah."
The assembly at night in the great
auditorium was impressive in revealing
a personnel of earnest, sensible and practi-
cal young men and women preparing a
life-work with sane and wholesome ideals.
Every other day each student is required
to unite with his academic studies, the
real doing of things — homely things re-
lating to the field and shop and home.
620
NEW WORK AT TUSKEGEE INSTITUTE
Nearly all the bricks that have been laid
at Tuskegee were made in the brickyard
there — every building at Tuskegee has
been constructed from home-made bricks,
and the mortar mixed and laid by Tuskegee
students.
Although the institution now has six-
teen hundred students, an assembly hall
contains a marvelous dining room in which
the entire student body gathers face to
face three times a day; after grace has
been said in a plaintive, reverent chant,
SHILOH SCHOOL, MACON COUNTY
one can see a problem grappled with,
not in theory, but in practice. From forty
states and over twenty-one foreign coun-
tries come the young men and women
of the colored race, earnest and eager, to
acquire that information and instruction
which will enable them to go forth and
become teachers in turn. In Panama
I have visited schools taught by Tuskegee
graduates. In far-off Jamaica and other
remote parts of the West Indies, I have
met them. The influence of Tuskegee
in its short twenty-nine .years bridges
a history of the first importance to the
nation, as well as to the colored race.
In the village of Tuskegee is a club-
room where the boys and girls and
farmers gather evenings and on Saturday
afternoons. Over a store nearby is a night
school of which Mrs. Booker T. Washing-
ton had long personal charge. Here the
boys, with hammer, saw and plane,
devote their evenings to making and
repairing chairs and other "odd jobs";
the room was full of articles of furniture
brought in by the villagers. There was
also a tailor-shop near at hand, where
clothes were made to order — in fact, every
phase of the Tuskegee idea is presented in
a practical and efficient way.
Tuskegee and its subsidiaries is today
an educational centre known the world
over for its cohesive organization: every-
thing is conducted systematically. Effi-
ciency in everything is the watchword. It
was enjoyable to hear the young folk going
to and fro, humming merry tunes — how
light-hearted they seemed, yet they realized
their responsibilities and were admirably
attentive in the recitation room.
* * *
Early in the eighties Dr. Washington
recognized that in agricultural employ-
ments the color line would not be sharply
drawn, and that the first thing to be done
was to train the young people of his race
to better methods of work and living.
In the -South, there are few white people
who have aught but words of respect for
the work which he is doing. He is always
at perfect ease, and, conscious of the justice
of his cause, he moves about with almost
the authority of a general, and demands
results in every undertaking. Two hundred
mules are kept in the stables, and there is
seldom a day in which all are not at work.
The question of stock-raising, too, has
NEW NEGRO FARM DWELLING IN DAWKINS
COMMUNITY. MACON COUNTY, TWELVE
MILES FROM TUSKEGEE INSTITUTE
been thoroughly considered, and the in-
telligence and alertness of the young men
employed and educated in these and other
departments certainly indicate steady
progress in scientific farm development
in this section.
In the Agricultural Building the farmers'
institute gathers winter and summer,
and at these meetings the farmers hear
the lectures and demonstrations and ex-
periences showing the results of the various
crops. The teachers in the agricultural
schools give special instruction to the
farmers, and the course in agriculture
started in the Institute in 1904 has proven
622
NEW WORK AT TUSKEGEE INSTITUTE
most successful; nearly a thousand students
are at the present time enrolled in the
agricultural course alone.
The engrossing work at Tuskegee just
now deals with extension. The public ap-
propriation permits of only three months'
schooling for colored people in many
districts, and this short term has to be
divided as far as'it will go. Some sections
have suffered in consequence of these
enforced limitations, and the extension
work plans to arrange for nine months of
OLD RISING STAR SCHOOL BUILDING
school. The instruction is not only to
include the rudiments, but is to take the
boys right out into the fields to train them
for home-making and home-building. As
has been stated by Dr. Washington,
"there is nothing in politics or any other
avenue of life that begins to compare in
importance with the Negro's securing a
home and becoming a taxpayer." The
work started by the extension department
of the Institute has grappled in earnest
with the one great economic problem of
the times— "Back to the land." In. this
connection emphasis is laid on farm and
household economy, as well as in knowing
what to do to get the best results out of
the soil. It is the lesson of living simply
and of not wasting, and of looking toward
those things which are worth while, which
is impressed in a way that would do justice
to many an older institution.
• The extension school work represents
a wonderful organization. Over thirty-
three community schoolhouses, in charge
of Tuskegee graduates, have already been
established, and forty school terms have
been extended from three to nine months.
The different communities have their
meetings once a week. The conference of
all the communities meets once a month,
and the great fair is held once a year. How
sensible and systematic an arrangement
for bringing together the people of the
surrounding country to develop that
neighborhood spirit which is always char-
acteristic of every successful community.
"How I obtained a home of my own" is
the chief topic of discussion at the meet-
ings from year to year. It is the same
simple story — some fail and some succeed,
but the usual process is "I bought a piece
of land and gave a mortgage on it." And
those who worked on it paid the mortgage,
as a rule ; those who didn't, failed. Imagine
a conference of white people confessing,
as these gatherings do, their shortcomings
as well as their successes. There is some-
thing delightfully cheerful and optimistic
about the colored people — perhaps too
much so at times for their good.
Grim humor was expressed when one
Negro farmer said it was "the jug" that
was responsible for his failure, and it
wasn't a whiskey jug, either, but one
that held two gallons of molasses. He
used to send up to the store for the jugful
on credit, and then more on credit, and
AN ABANDONED DWELLING IN RISING STAR
COMMUNITY, COMMONLY USED BEFORE
EXTENSION WORK WAS BEGUN
when the bill came due in the fall he was
without the money for aught else than to
pay for things already consumed.
The chief point of the conferences is to
impress the white people that the Negro
can be made self-reliant and independent,
and by attending strictly to his own busi-
ness he may become a credit and an honor
to any state or any community. Several
of the neighborhoods around Tuskegee
have school buildings built by the people
themselves. Many a father with a large
family feels a just pride in being able to
help provide for the extension schools.
NEW WORK AT TUSKEGEE INSTITUTE
623
In Tuskegee the art of helping others
is taught in connection with the art of
helping oneself. The boy learns not only
how to make a horseshoe, but how to
fit it on— and to show others how to
do it.
From the Institute barns Mr. Galloway
drove to one of the schoolhouses which is
following out Dr. Washington's plans.
It is a simple building, to be sure, but a
home as well as a school. Here a devoted
Tuskegee graduate and his wife teach the
rudiments — the "three R's" — and take
right hold of the little folks with a parental
hand. The youngsters are taught how
to conduct themselves among strangers,
how to eat, how to make beds and to keep
the home sweet and clean, and how to do
other useful things. The garden nearby was
then being cultivated by the boys, and they
showed me how they pulled stumps with
an enthusiasm and interest that spoke
well for their training. About the school-
house are gardens, tools and stock with
which to review the lessons taught by
actual practice; among them pigs and
chickens comely and well-fed, which had
evidently familiarized the students with
the fundamental laws of successful farm-
ing and turning feed into profitable stock.
Eight miles from Tuskegee on the Russell
Plantation, Mrs. Booker T. Washington
some years ago adapted the methods of
the University Settlement to the needs
of the people living in the "black belt,"
and in an abandoned farm cabin the work
was begun by Miss Annie Davis, a graduate
of Tuskegee. To see little tots of eight
and nine years learning how to tend
the baby — for there are always babes
in Negro communities — represented a great
work in itself. When one realizes that
each one of these colored school children
has to pay a tuition fee out of the family
earnings, it must be admitted that an
education really means something to
them, when it is not to be had without
a sacrifice on their part and that of their
parents.
We visited several of the many schools
and communities, coming across one
of the Jesup wagons on our way. These
wagons, laden with the sample products
of the land, travel from place to place like
veritable experiment stations of the Agri-
cultural Department, encouraging ex-
periments of the right kind of farming.
They look like the rural free delivery
wagons of the government, and best of all
are made in Tuskegee Institute shops. The
great farm of Tuskegee itself, with its wire
fences, modern buildings and experiment
station, has had a most salutary influence,
and the students at work in the fields,
the granaries and the crops told the story.
Many of the colored farms around about
Tuskegee are prosperous. The old log
hut is deserted for the neat, white cottage,
with green blinds and a red roof, trim as a
New England homestead. At Sweet Gum
community there was a petition asking
those employing help to hire none but
desirable characters. In the Roba Com-
OLD SHILOH SCHOOL. IN USE BEFORE RURAL
SCHOOL EXTENSION EFFORT BEGAN
munity prizes were recently offered by a
wealthy white planter for the tenants
who kept the best farms, gardens and
homes, but only those who were not
addicted to alcohol and lived in peace
and order were allowed to compete.
The farmer wouldn't be a true farmer
unless he had his local home paper, and
Mr. C. J. Galloway, who has been very
active in the extension work, some time
ago established The Messenger, a county
newspaper, which has indeed the real flavor
of neighborliness. The Negro Business
League, founded in Boston in 1900, but
with headquarters in Tuskegee, has done
much to stimulate habits of saving, and
banks have been established to help in
building up business and industrial enter-
prise. Over thirty banks and three hun-
dred leagues have been established in
624
NEW WORK AT TUSKEGEE INSTITUTE
thirty-seven states since the work was
first begun.
The ministerial institute of Macon
County has done much to influence the
colored man in better modes of living.
At a recent meeting the Negroes discussed
crime in general and organized a novel
"Law and Order League" for the suppres-
sion of crime. The pledges taken by the
members are simple and effective:
"I will be a law-abiding citizen."
"I will strive for the suppression of crime
in my community."
"I will co-operate with the officers of the
law in ferreting out criminals."
"I will discountenance crime, immorality
and all phases of lawlessness in my com-
munity."
"I will protect, with the best of my ability,
every innocent and helpless person in my
community, every worthy citizen regardless
of race or color and every worthy member of
the Law and Order League."
Now as to the practical, direct and con-
crete influence of the Institute at home.
Official records show that there has been
a great reduction of crime in the black
belt Negro country in recent years. Peni-
tentiary offences have decreased sixty
per cent; murders seventy-five per cent.
The records of Macon County, Alabama,
in which Tuskegee is situated, show it to be
one of the most law-abiding districts in the
state, and this is emphasized in the report
of the Attorney-General. During the
visit of President McKinley and again
when President Roosevelt went to Tuske-
gee (when over fifteen thousand people
were assembled from all parts of the
country) not a single arrest for disorder
was made on either occasion. At the
Macon County Fair in October last, four
thousand Negro farmers were in attendance.
The Fair has been held for the past twelve
years, solely for the purpose of promoting
agricultural development. The necessity
for keeping order at the County Fair has
never been considered by the officers —
the event has become a model of the perfect
observance of law and order. The influence
of this meeting can be found in the local
conferences, farmers' improvement clubs
and mothers' clubs, which have all done
much to reach out a helping hand to the
colored man or woman who appreciates
what it means to get on in the world and
become a useful citizen.
Everywhere there seemed to be recog-
nized and reflected in life and labor the
memorable saying of their great teacher:
"Respect can never be given; it must be
purchased; our success will be earned and
come by learning to command respect
by our usefulness to the world."
* * *
Yes, it rained the day I was there, but
Galloway insisted that it was "good for
the crops," so we didn't mind the wetting,
and the students didn't seem to have very
much use for umbrellas. There was a
sturdiness about it all that was impressive.
As I left, the lights were being lit in the
Tuskegee halls. In each room in the
dormitories, and wherever else that light
gleamed, I felt that there some young man
or young woman under the study lamp
was courageously grappling with the
great problem of life. Every one of those
lights that fringed the Tuskegee halls
were significant beacons, lighting an im-
portant movement toward the uplifting
of a race that is destined to work out its
own problems to the honor and glory of
mankind.
O
LIFE is Life for evermore!
And Death a passing shadow —
The gloom a cloud, from its azure floor,
Casts on the sunny meadow;
The west wind blows — the shadow goes.
Copyright, 1905, by Edna Dean Proctor
OF MONO
CHAPTER I
NfOLD faded carpet,
which was worn
through in many
places, covered the
floor of a little
room at the top of
a • tenement house
o n Twenty - ninth
Street, near Third Avenue in New York.
The walls, which were decorated with faded
paper, were hung with unframed pictures,
and drawings such as one artist would give
another, and the old bookcase which stood
against the wall, with its double glass
doors, covered with faded draw curtains,
showed by its marks and scratches that
it had been moved about carelessly for
many years. The old bed-couch and a
few wooden chairs gave the room an air
of poverty, but as one gazed at the pic-
tures, he could not help seeing the artist's
hand in every corner; the artistic drawing
on the wall; the color of the cheap cloth
used to make a cozy corner harmonized
with the curtains that covered a small
window through which the sun was
streaming. The unpapered ceiling, which
slanted downward on either side, gave an
artistic quaintness to the picture, and the
banister in the center of the room which
surrounded the dilapidated stairway lead-
ing downstairs was covered with a cheap
cloth, harmonizing in color with the quaint
cozy corner.
A little boy, between four and five years
of age, sat on the floor in the ray of the
sunlight, playing with his blocks. His little
blue and white gingham suit, which was
faded and patched; the little soiled knees
sticking out through the cotton stockings,
suggested the picture of a child who might
see better days. He raised his curly
head and listened as he heard the sound
of feet climbing the creaking stairs.
"Good-morning, Mrs. Murray," he
said in a polite tone as he peeked over his
shoulder and saw her thin figure standing
with one hand on the banister and the other
on her stomach as if gasping for breath.
"Hello, Jackie, what are ye doin'?"
she gasped in a tone that showed she had
climbed higher than was good for a woman
of her age to climb by foot.
"I'm building a hospital," replied Jack
as he leaned back and surveyed his toy
building, and the remark caused a faint
smile to creep into her thin face as she
threw a glance from her keen Irish eye at
the child, and walked over to the old bed-
couch at the side of the room and seated
herself with a sigh of relief and gave her
little black straw bonnet a push with both
hands toward her forehead.
"And what are ye buildin' a hospital
fer?"
Jack turned and looked at her with his
big blue eyes, and in a voice of surprise
exclaimed:
"Why, don't you know that my jumping-
jack has broken his leg?"
Mrs. Murray pushed herself a little
farther back on the couch and rested her
elbows on a pillow. She smiled good-
naturedly.
"Moi, but that's too bad. Where's
ye'r father?"
(625)
626
THE GUEST OF HONOR
A smile of happiness came over Jack's
face as he took his tiny hand and placed
it on his stomach and forgot his blocks.
"He has gone to get some groceries,"
he said, and his voice told how anxiously
he was waiting his father's return.
Mrs. Murray removed her elbow, from
the pillow, moved to the edge of the couch
and exclaimed with surprise:
"Ain't ye had annie breakfast yit?"
"Yes, I had my breakfast and two eggs,"
he replied cheerfully as he reached for
another block.
"Ain't yer father workin' yit?"
"Yes, he's writing most all the time."
A look of disgust came over Mrs.
Murray's face, she gave the black ribbon
of her bonnet, which tied under her chin,
a quick pull, as if it were too tight.
"An' if he don't do somethin' besoides
write, ye '11 not ate eggs long at the price
they are now," she grunted in a voice that
showed her contempt for literature.
The rickety stairs creaked as Jack was
reaching for another block. He paused,
drew his hand back and listened. The
stairs creaked again. His big blue eyes
opened wider and he listened breathlessly.
Mrs. Murray gazed toward the stair-
way and gave her dark skirt a pull at the
knees that brought the bottom of it
nearer the tops of her black congress
shoes. She folded one hand and held it
in the other and with a firmness placed
them both in her lap as she sat erect on
the edge of the couch.
A heavy, pleasing voice called, "John."
The tapping of a cane was heard on the
stairs, then a wrinkled hand clutched the
top of the banister. The end of a cane
appeared on the floor and tapped first one
spot and then another.
Jack knew the sound — he did not turn
to look, but reached out for another block
as he yelled in a welcoming tone, "Good-
morning, Mr. Warner."
Mr. Warner rested the weight of his
heavy body on his cane a few seconds,
then used it to feel his way to a chair and
as soon as he regained a speaking breath,
he said, "Good-morning, Jack," with as
much fatherly love in his voice as though
he were greeting his own child. He re-
moved his black slouch hat and hung it
on the handle of his cane, ran his fingers
through his snow-white hair and heaved
a sigh that almost shook the quaint little
room.
Mrs. Murray's eyes wandered from his
clean shaven face to the black shiny vest
that buttoned tightly around his fleshy
figure, then to the ragged edges of his
trousers that hung over a shabby pair of
laced shoes and a look of sympathy came
over her face as she looked at the noble
old man and listened to him trying to get
enough breath to speak with.
He ran his fingers between his neck and
the celluloid collar that was buttoned
with a bone button to a figured soft shirt,
and in a firmer and more loving voice
said, "Where is your father?"
Jack informed him with a great deal of
pleasure that his father had gone to the
grocery store and that Mrs. Murray was
present.
Mr. Warner greeted her with a "good-
morning," and the quick, polite way he
spoke showed the embarrassment he felt
for not having been able to see her and
greet her first.
"Good-morning," replied Mrs. Murray,
and her voice seemed a trifle softer and
she relaxed into an attitude of uncon-
scious sympathy as she listened to the
pleasing tone of Warner's voice and gazed
at the man who was good-natured, gentle
and kind, in spite of the fact that he had
to feel his way about and look at the world
through an old wooden cane.
"You haven't been around these last
few days, Mrs. Murray," and Warner
would have continued and asked if she
had been ill, but Mrs. Murray interrupted
as she resumed her erect attitude on the
edge of the couch and replied in a sharp
quick tone, "Oi've bin busy."
A puzzled look came into Jack's eyes, he
sat with his elbows on his knees, his face
resting on his hands, studying the difficult
problem of building a roof on his toy
hospital with blocks.
"Aren't you going to make my bed any
more? "
"Not till Oi see e father," was the
quick reply.
"And aren't you going to wash my
clothes either?" Jack asked with an in-
quiring, but polite tone of voice as he stood
up and looked at Mrs. Murray, who hesi-
THE GUEST OF HONOR
627
"Informed him that Mr. Weatherbee had not paid her a cent in over a month"
tated as she gazed at Mr. Warner, then at
the child and tossed her chin in the air
and retorted:
"Oi can't work fer nothin'."
Jack started for the stairs. He forgot
his hospital and his jumping-jack. He
paused as he reached the banister, raised
his little head with the dignity of a king
and with a politeness that made Warner
swell with pride:
"If you will excuse me, I'll go down
stairs and see if father is coming." MJJ|
The old stairway didn't creak as his little
feet hurried down over its steps, but each
step seemed to greet the little toes with a
welcome as they touched it and wished
he would stand still and not glide over it
so lightly.
An air of loneliness came over the little
room and the narrow stream of sunlight
628
THE GUEST OF HONOR
on the old rag carpet seemed to flitter
and fade because it could not shine on
the childish figure that had just left. A
swallow lit on the sill of the tiny window
and chirruped as if calling for an old
acquaintance. It hopped to the center of
the window, looked in and seemed to
chirrup a good-bye, as it flew away and
left the two characters sitting there in
silence.
"Mrs. Murray, have you gone back on
John?" inquired Warner in a friendly
voice.
She gave the little thin lace shawl, which
was as red as her queer little bonnet was
black, a little pull which brought it tightly
around her sallow neck and she bent for-
ward toward Warner as if anxious to have
her sharp tone hit his ear.
"OiVe washed and cl'aned and made
bids fer John Weatherbee as long as Oi'm
goin' to till he pays me," and she pushed
herself back to a position of ease as if
she had unloaded an awful weight from
her mind.
"How long have you been doing work
for John?"
She thought a second and informed him
in a softer tone that it was nearly three
years.
"And does he owe you much? " continued
Mr. Warner in a low but firm voice.
Mrs. Murray hastened herself to the
edge of the couch again, extended her
chin as far toward Mr. Warner as possible
and informed him that Mr. Weatherbee
had not paid her a cent in over a month.
Warner's voice took on a note of pathos.
"He hasn't had it to pay you."
She pulled herself out a little nearer
the edge of the couch. "Oi'm not to blame
fer that."
"Nor is he," returned Warner.
Her eagerness to reply quickly caused
her to move closer to the edge of the
couch, but she moved too far and her next
sitting position was on the floor. She
hurried to her feet, advanced a step in
Warner's direction and in a sharper tone
than she would have used had she not
slipped off the couch, retorted: "Yis,
he is to bloime. Sure whin he first came
here to live he had to rint the parlor on
the very first floor, and he spint his money
loike a fool."
"He spent it like a thoroughbred," and
Warner raised his head proudly as he
continued, "and loaned it like a white
man."
"Why don't he go to work?"
"He does work constantly," he replied.
Mrs. Murray had quietly seated her-
self a little nearer the center of the couch
and with a sneer said: "Yis, he works,
foolin' his toime away writin' a lot of
trash that no one would waste their toime
radin'."
The remark caused a heavier note to
accompany Warner's voice as he spoke
slowly, as if to impress Mrs. Murray that
he believed in his heart every word he was
saying would come true.
"John Weatherbee is an author and a
mighty clever one; his books will be pub-
lished some day and he will be a rich man.
All great authors have been led to fame by
the hand of poverty."
The end of Warner's speech found Mrs.
Murray listening with her mouth half
open and gazing at him as if she uncon-
sciously thought that it was her turn to
say something. She soon recovered her-
self, and forgetting the fatal edge of the
couch, drew herself in that direction and
exclaimed:
"Why, he owes iverybody that's iver had
anythin' to do wid 'm."
"But he'll pay them all, every cent he
owes them," returned Warner in a low,
firm tone. "I am an old newspaper man
myself, and I've been associated with
authors all my life. I've watched them
and I've studied them. I've seen them
climb and fall, only to rise again and
climb higher. John's down now, but he
is taking the count with a smile, but
watch him — just keep your eye on John
Weatherbee."
And Mrs. Murray remarked, with much
satisfaction as she threw one knee over
the other, swinging her foot to and fro,
that until she received what John Weather-
bee owed her, she would keep both of her
eyes on him.
The slow tread of footsteps on the un-
carpeted stairs caused her to look anxiously
in that direction. The pounding of
heavily soled shoes grew more distinct as
they reached the top step. A small boy
appeared. He held a small package under
THE GUEST OF HONOR
629
an arm which had grown many inches too
long for the sleeve of a brown checkered
coat that scarcely came below his elbow.
The peak of his small hat which covered
his somewhat large head was pulled well
down over his right eye. His straight
brown hair was long enough to reach well
over his ears and keep the dust off his
coat collar, had it come anywhere near
his neck, but the fifteen-year-old shoulders
in the coat built for a twelve-year-old boy
pulled the collar far enough away from his
neck to give the hair an opportunity to
go down and keep the dust off of the soft
cloth collar which was a part of the shirt
of the same material and had never been
in any way connected with a necktie. He
placed his elbow on the banister, stood
on one foot, threw the other carelessly
across it, permitting the latter to rest
where it landed, gave a large piece of gum
a few vicious gnaws that seemed to tax
every muscle in the face that was almost
hidden with the marks of soiled fingers
and in a voice which resembled that of
a young rooster, yelled: "Is Weatherbee
in?"
The words caused the lines in Warner's
forehead to deepen. Mrs. Murray smiled
as she inquired of the boy what he wanted
of Weatherbee, before Warner had the
chance to speak.
"I've got his laundry — one shirt and
two collars. Fourteen cents," and he
emphasized the fourteen cents with all
the power his voice possessed.
"Mr. Weatherbee is not in," replied
Mr. Warner in a polite tone.
"Does either of youse want ter pay fer
it?" retorted the boy.
There was a short silence, Mrs. Murray
watched Warner nervously remove his hat,
which was hanging on his cane, and place it
on his knee as he tapped the floor lightly
with the thin, worn sole of his shoe. She
broke the silence as she smiled, tossed her
chin in the air and remarked in a tone of
voice that caused Warner to shift his hat
from his knee back to the handle of his
cane.
"Not me!"
The boy centered his gaze on Warner
and shouted: "Do you?"
The lines on Warner's forehead deepened
again. Mrs. Murray watched him as he
removed his cane from beside his left leg
and placed it between his knees and gripped
it tightly with both hands.
The silence was broken by the words,
uttered in a low tone, which concealed
only part of the embarrassment felt by
Warner as he raised his white head higher
in the air as if to lend them dignity.
"I haven't the change."
Mrs. Murray grinned and moved back
nearer the center of the couch. A smile
of disgust came over the boy's dirty face
as he looked from one to the other and re-
marked in a voice which didn't betray
his disgusted smile: "Gee, there ain't
fourteen cents in the bunch." He shook
his head, turned toward the stairs and
started down them one step at a time,
whistling in a high, shrill tone: "Gee,
I wish that I had a girl like the other
fellers have."
CHAPTER II
As the heavy shod feet of the whistling
youngster left the last step, and the air
of "Gee, I Wish That I Had a Girl Like
the Other Fellers Have," died away in the
distance, the old stairway seemed to give
a creak all to itself as if for good luck and
good riddance.
Mrs. Murray placed her hands on her
hips, strolled to the little window, but as
there was nothing to see but the rear of
the houses on Twenty-eighth Street and
the fire escapes which were hung with
drying garments, she decided she would
rather look in than out. She walked to
the center of the room, seated herself on
a plain wooden chair and gazed steadily at
Warner, who was still sitting in the same
chair he had chosen when he entered the
room. Both of his hands were resting on
the handle of his cane and his head slightly
bowed.
She removed a large, white handkerchief
from her skirt pocket and, after a careful
examination, picked out her choice corner
and used it in a manner that caused
Warner to raise his head quickly. She
moistened the two forefingers of each
hand with her tongue and gave her hair,
which was parted in the middle, several
pats on either side, drawing it down on
her temples and back over her ears. She
cleared her throat and remarked in a most
630
THE GUEST OF HONOR
inquisitive tone, as she looked at Warner
out of the corner of her eye:
"Ye're such a fri'nd of Weatherbee's,
whoi didn't ye pay the fourteen tints?"
"I said I hadn't the change," was the
gentle reply.
She smiled, pushed her feet as far for-
ward as her limbs would permit her to,
carefully laid one hand on the other, and
as if to herself, but in a tone perfectly
audible to anyone in the room, grunted:
"Fourteen cints is a lot of money if ye
ain't got it. I guess the laundry boy knows
Weatherbee."
Warner spoke gently, but firmly. "If
the laundry boy knew him, Mrs. Murray,
he would have left the laundry."
"And if Weatherbee knew annithing and
had annie sinse, he'd put that kid in an
orphan asylum."
Warner's voice showed that his patience
was weakening. "He adopted the child
to prevent it from being sent to an orphan
asylum, and when its poor, friendless
mother died, he took money that he needed
himself to bury her."
He paused and then marked each word
with a firm tap on the floor with his cane,
as he continued: "And he'll be rewarded
for it!"
Mrs. Murray jerked her feet in so
quickly that her ankles hit the rung of the
chair. She advanced a few steps toward
Warner, leaned over and aimed for his left
ear as she yelled: "A foine home he's
given the child. Sure it's nothin' but a
bundle of patches, and half the toime it
don't have half enough to ate."
The quick nodding of her head which
accompanied each word of her taunting
remark, had caused her bonnet to slide
down over the small, round knot which
she wore her hair in, until it rested on the
back of her neck. She untied the ribbons,
took the bonnet with both hands and
brought it down on the top of her head
with a vengeance, and tied the ribbons so
tightly that it drew the bonnet well down
over her right eye. She had more to say
and was prepared to say it, but the stairs
spoke and caused her to turn her head and
listen.
A mumbling, puffing sound was heard.
She seated herself on the edge of the
couch. The puffing grew louder. She
watched the staircase. The top of a
round, fat, bald head appeared, its sides
and the lower part of the neck were dec-
orated with closely clipped mouse-colored
hair. A red, fat face, with a pug nose
of the same color, was buried between a
pair of heavy, sandy side-whiskers that
came down to the corners of his mouth,
then waved back and nearly touched his
ears. A pair of square-toed carpet slip-
pers covered the two small feet that were
hidden in a pair of red knit socks. The
light brown trousers that should have
rolled up at the bottom hung down in
heavy wrinkles and covered the slippers
nearly to the end of the toes. The trou-
sers hung like loose bags over the short,
fat legs. A heavy gray flannel shirt
fitted the little, round, fat stomach tightly,
and an old brown velvet vest which pos-
sessed one or two buttons and many
prominent grease spots hung carelessly
down over the waist of the trousers, which
nearly reached his chest. The sleeves of
the shirt were long and hung below the
knuckles of the fat hand that clung to the
banister and steadied the small, round,
puffing figure.
A twinkle of delight came into the small
gray eye that was almost hidden by a
heavy eyebrow, which matched the color
of the red skin that covered the fat face.
Still clinging to the banisters, he bent as
far forward as his fat stomach would per-
mit, and chuckled in an English accent
that had not lost any of its charm in spite
of being on Twenty-ninth Street for over
twenty years.
"Good mornhin', Mrs. Murray," he
straightened up and continued as he
looked around the room carefully and the
twinkle left his eye, "his Mr. Weatherbee
hin?"
Mrs. Murray replied quickly: "No,
Oi'm waitin' fer him. How much does he
owe you, Mr. Wartle?" And she glanced
at Warner to see what effect Mr. Warble's
reply would have on him, for she knew
what the answer would be before she
asked the question and Wartle didn't
disappoint her.
He shut his two small eyes tightly, as
he stuck his head forward and replied in a
threatening tone: "'E howes me nearly
three months han ha 'alf rent for this
THE GUEST OF HONOR
631
room, hand hif 'e don't pay me Saturday,
'e's got to get hout," and he accompanied
each word with a swift nod of the fat head
that caused the long side whiskers to think
the wind was blowing.
Mrs. Murray smiled with satisfaction.
Warner stood and faced the doorway.
Wartle watched him and continued in a
most confidential tone, "Does 'e howe you
hanything, Mr. Warner?"
"No," was the firm, quick reply, and his
heavy voice filled the little room.
Wartle stepped from the end of the ban-
ister as Warner tapped his way there on
the floor with his cane. He clinched the
banister with the hand that still held his
hat and in a low, ringing voice continued,
"On the contrary, I owe him. I wish he
did owe me. I would consider it an honor
to have John Weatherbee in my debt."
The stairs creaked loudly as his heavy
weight hit each step and the tapping of his
cane was heard guiding him along the hall
of the floor below.
Wartle was overwhelmed and amazed
at Warner's declaration. He hung his head
over the banister and watched him until
he was out of sight. He turned to Mrs.
Murray and exclaimed with much surprise :
"Hi wonder what 'e howes Weatherbee
for."
"Per grub," retorted Mrs. Murray.
"Sure Weatherbee has fed him and kept
him out of the poorhouse fer the last three
years."
Wartle gathered his mouth into an "0"
shape and whispered: "Ho! Ho! Hi didn't
know that." Then a smile broke over his
countenance as he gazed about the room,
tiptoed forward toward Mrs. Murray and
whispered: "Hi knew Weatherbee wasn't
hat 'orrie. Hi came to see you, Mrs.
Murray."
She threw her head back and glanced
at him from the corner of her eye. " Don't
flatter now, Wartle. Ye didn't cloimb up
four flights of stairs to see me."
"Ho, Hi did," returned Wartle, as he
took a step toward her and leaned forward,
whispering in a more convincing tone and
pointing his first finger at her: "Hi'd
climb ha telegraph pole to see you, Mrs.
Murray."
A broad smile crept over Mrs. Murray's
face as she looked at the little, fat figure
and thought of it climbing a telegraph
pole.
"Sure ye couldn't get ye hands near
a tilegraph pole with that fat stomich
of yours, Wartle."
He took on more courage at her broad
smile and advanced another step nearer.
"Hi could hif you was hat the top."
The smile left Mrs. Murray's face as
she continued in a reproachful tone:
"Faith and ye'll wait a long toime before
ye'll see me at the top of a tilegraph
pole."
Wartle crept a short step nearer, his
voice gaining more confidence as he poked
his little fat face forward.
"Hand before the world comes to han
hend, Hi 'ope to see you 'igher hup than
that, Mrs. Murray."
"Away with yer flattery," replied Mrs.
Murray with a wave of her hand, but
her voice and the satisfied twinkle in her
eye betrayed the words and showed she
was enjoying Wartle's efforts.
"Hi mean hit," pleaded Wartle, as his
fat feet led him a little nearer to her.
"Sure ye don't mean anniethin' ye say,"
and Mrs. Murray pretended to gaze at
the ceiling.
"Hi mean hevery thing Hi say to you,
Mrs. Murray, hand Hi wish — Hi wish"-
his voice seemed to leave him for a second,
as he nervously reached for one of his
side-whiskers and twirled it around his
finger.
"Hi wish," he continued, as Mrs.
Murray looked him straight in the eye
and caused his voice to waver into a
whispering silence as he unwound his
side-whisker from around his finger and
gave his vest a pull.
"Hi wish you'd consent to be my wife,
hand live 'ere with me, hand take care
hof my Jouse."
He straightened up, gave the other side-
whisker a gentle pull of satisfaction and
looked straight at Mrs. Murray.
She gave her bonnet a quick push to-
ward the back of her head and took in
Wartle from the top of his bald head to
the toes of his carpet slippers.
"Faith and if Oi had charge of yer 'ouse
(as you call it), Oi'd clane some of these
dead bates out that ye have livin' here."
The remark gave Wartle new courage.
632
THE GUEST OF HONOR
He advanced a full step nearer and ex-
claimed in a firmer voice than he had
spoken in since he entered the room.
"Hand that's just what Hi'm goin' to
do, hand Hi'm goin' to do hit hat once,
too, hif Weatherbee don't pay me Satur-
day, hout 'e goes."
"Well, if ye take moi advoice that's
^what ye'll do."
Wartle's small gray eyes twinkled with
satisfaction and he quickly replied : " Hi '11
take your hadvice, hand Hi'd like to 'ave
you take me hand my 'appiness."
He stood with his fat hands stretched
out with just the fingers showing from
under the long flannel shirt sleeves.
The picture amused Mrs. Murray,
though she concealed her smile and
grunted somewhat sarcastically and drop-
ping some of her h's in order to imitate
Wartle, "Sure and what 'appiness have
you to share? Yer so stingy ye won't
hire a cook er a chambermaid, but try to
do all the work yersilf."
Instead of Wartle becoming disheart-
ened, he took courage from the twinkle in
Mrs. Murray's eye and pushed the carpet
slippers a few inches nearer, with his hands
still reaching out as far as he could get
them.
"Hif you'd 'ave me, Mrs. Murray,
Hill 'ire a cook hand ha chambermaid,
too."
"Ye can bet ye would. Sure, ye have
money to burn an' Oi'd make ye set fire
to it. Oi had one husband that was so
stingy that he wouldn't give annione his
full name."
She watched the little round figure
stealing closer to her. His face and bald
head were like a ball of fire. She turned
her head to conceal her smile.
"Hif you'll 'ave me, Mrs. Murray,
Hi '11 give you hanything you want."
She turned to find Wartle kneeling at
her right knee. She burst out laughing,
moved away a few inches and remarked
in an affected tone, which showed she was
having a good time at Wartle's expense:
"Oh, this is so sudden!"
The little gray eyes opened wide with
surprise as he looked at her and exclaimed:
"Sudden, why, Mrs. Murray, Hi've been
hasking you to marry me for hover ha
year."
"Oi know ye have," she said and she
placed the ends of her long, thin fingers
over her mouth, "but ye look so disperate
on yer knees."
"Hi'm gettin' desperate," and he crawled
toward her on his knees.
"Ye're gittin' foolish," and she moved
away a few inches.
"Hi can't 'elp hit, Mrs. Murray," and
he seized her hand and kissed it.
"Stop aitin' me fingers," she yelled
as she jerked her hand away. "Are
ye losin' yer head entirely?"
"Yes, Mrs. Murray."
"Ye can't fool me. Ye make love to
every woman that looks strong enough
to do housework. Ye're mixed in yer
dates. Ye want a housekeeper, ye don't
want a woife."
He crawled along and rested his elbow
on the couch.
"No, Hi want ha wife, hand hafter we're
married, Hi '11 give you hanything you
want."
"Ye'll give me whativer ye're going to
give me before Oi'm married. Oi'll take
no chances."
Wartle paused with surprise. He
reached out and took her hand, looked up
into her eyes and almost gasped, "Then
you'll 'ave me?"
"Oi didn't say Oi would, did Oi?"
"You said has much," and he crawled
up so close to her that he stepped on her
foot with his knee.
"Git off me feet," she screamed. "Sure
Oi ain't said half as much as Oi'm goin' to
say," and she drew her hand away from
his with a jerk.
Wartle was not used to standing on
his knees. They were beginning to ache
and after considerable grunting and puffing,
he struggled to his feet and seated himself
on the edge of the couch. He leaned
over and whispered, as he reached his head
up to get as near to her ear as possible:
"Go hon, Mrs. Murray, Hi love to
'ear you talk. Hi love the little Hirish
touch hin your voice."
"Sure I'll give ye an Irish touch that'll
do yer heart good," she chuckled as she
glanced down at the little fat head that
was reaching up toward hers.
"Hanything you'd do hor say would do
my 'art good, Mrs. Murray," and he
THE GUEST OP HONOR
633
reached over until his chin almost touched
her shoulder, "hand hif you'll consent to
be Mrs. Wartle—"
As he said Mrs. Wartle, she threw up
both hands and exclaimed: "Wartle!
Hivins, what a name!"
"What's hin ha name, Mrs. Murray?"
and he crawled along until his chin touched
her shoulder.
"There's nuthin' but money in your
name," and she gave his chin a push with
her shoulder that sent his head away
several inches, but it travelled back a
short distance with each word.
"Hand hif you'll be Mrs. Wartle, Hi'll
put hit hall hin your name."
There was a short pause. Her left eye
almost closed as she looked down at him
and spoke seriously: "Ye will?"
"Yes," was the quick reply, and his
chin touched her shoulder again.
But she didn't brush it away this time.
She brushed a little imaginary dust off
of the sleeve of her waist, looked away
in the opposite direction and spoke in a
somewhat careless manner.
"Under thim conditions, I might be
induced."
"Then you'll 'ave me?" Wartle gasped
in a tone that was blended with aston-
ishment and joy as he reached for her
cheek with his lips, but lost his balance
and nearly fell in her lap as she pulled her
head away, turned and sat in a "how dare
you" attitude.
Wartle moved back a few inches and
gazed at the floor in embarrassment.
Whether he was ashamed in his attempt
or because he had missed Mrs. Murray's
cheek, he alone knew; but Mrs. Murray
wasn't worrying her head either. Her
mind was entertaining the business end
of the proposition.
"Ye say, if Oi'll have ye, ye'll put ivery-
thing into moi name?"
"Yes, Mrs. Murray."
"/nd Oi'm to have charge of the house
here and have a cook and a chambermaid? "
"Yes, dear," and he moved up to her
side and took her hand in both of his.
She looked steadily at the little, fat,
bewhiskered face, and after a few seconds'
pause, spoke firmly and deliberately: "And
the first thing ye do is to have thim lilacs
cut off yer cheeks."
A bewildered look came over Wartle's
face, he felt with each hand each side-
whisker that had been hanging there for
nearly thirty years. He looked longingly
at Mrs. Murray, but her long, thin face
was serious. He gave each whisker an-
other little pull as if for the last time and
exclaimed : ' ' Hi'll cut them hoff myself ! ' '
He gave them another little affectionate
stroke and continued in a more cheerful
tone: "Han' when will we be married?"
"Not till ye have everything made out
in moi name," she answered quickly and
to the point.
"Hi'll 'ave the papers made out in the
morning. Can Hi, see you tonight?"
he asked as he crawled up close to her
side and put his short fat arm around
her thin waist and gazed up into her face.
"Ye can take me to some show."
"Hi'll call for you hat 'alf past seven."
The fat face was on its way to her cheek,
but she pulled away, turned and pointed
her finger at him in a threatening way,
speaking in a commanding tone:
"Cut them lilacs off yer face 'afore ye
come near moi house," and she strolled
to the table at the side of the room.
"Hi will," and his hands wandered
unconsciously up to the whiskers and gave
each one a gentle pat.
"What hopera would you like to see?"
She thought a second, while she fum-
bled a few sheets of manuscript lying on
Weatherbee's table. "Oi'd like to go over
to the Third Avenue Theatre and see 'Why
Women Sin.' "
Little Jack stood at the bottom of the
stairs and yelled: "Mr. Wartle, Mr.
Wartle," in a voice that caused some of
the roomers to rush to their doors.
Wartle ran to the banister as fast as
his little fat legs would carry him, crying:
"Yes, yes, yes!"
"There's a gentleman at the door who
wants to see you."
Wartle sighed with relief. He thought
the house was on fire. He hung his head
over the banister and instructed Jack to
inform the caller that he would be down
at once.
"Perhaps hit's someone looking for ha
room. Hi'll see you when you're goin'
hout," and he waved his little stubby hand
at Mrs. Murray as he started down the
634
THE GUEST OP HONOR
stairs, but paused at the sound of her
voice.
"Oi'm goin' to wait fer Weatherbee."
yjWartle stood at the head of the stairs
and tapped the palm of his left hand
" War tie eyed Wealherbee severely with his small gray eyes'
with the first finger of his right and nodded
his head as he uttered each word:
"Hif hit's someone for ha room, hand
they'll take hit, Hi'll give 'em this one."
He heard Jack laughing heartily on
the stairs of the floor below. Wartle
listened. He heard a kind, heavy voice
say to the child:
"One more flight after this, and it's
better to go up than down."
He recognized the voice and said to
Mrs. Murray, in a tone that would sug-
gest the coming of a burglar: "'Ere's
Weatherbee now!" and stationed himself
at the head of the stairs.
Mrs. Murray walked to the
corner of the room and seated
herself in a plain old wooden
rocker, which was everything
but comfortable owing to the
loss of one of its arms and a
few of its rungs at the back,
but Mrs. Murray wasn't
thinking of comfort, and she
crossed her legs, tapped the
sole of her shoe on the floor
nervously and was determined
to have a reckoning with John
Weatherbee, who was slowly
approaching the top step of
the old stairs, carrying little
Jack over his shoulder.
CHAPTER III
As John Weatherbee's tall,
thin figure, clad in a very dark
blue suit which had done sum-
mer and winter service for
many seasons and was worn
threadbare and shiny in many
places, reached the top step,
he stooped over and gently
stood Jack safely on his feet
and patted each cheek affec-
tionately, saying in a low,
mellow, cheerful voice:
"There you are. Dad is a
pretty good old elevator,
isn't he?"
Jack tried to brush some of
the wrinkles out of his dress
with his hands, as Weatherbee
gave Wartle an amused glance
and bade him a polite "good-
morning" and a more amused
expression came over his long, thin, clean-
shaven face as he turned and saw Mrs.
Murray sitting in the crippled rocker.
"Oh — I — good-morning, Mrs. Murray,"
and he quickly removed a derby hat that
was still black only in spots, where the
sun hadn't visited.
"Good-mornin'," was the quick reply
in a cold, hard tone.
There was a short silence. The twinkle
THE GUEST OF HONOR
635
crept out of Weatherbee's kind blue eyes,
and an expression of sadness stole into
his face as he hung the faded derby on a
nail in the wall.
"Hi'll be back in ha few minutes, Mr.
Weatherbee. Hi want to speak to you,"
and Wartle grunted his way down to the
ground floor.
^Weatherbee knew well what Wartle
wanted to speak to him about and he was
trying then, as he always had tried, to
greet hard luck with a smile, but the
twinkle in his eye and the faint smile
that only lingered around the corners of
his large, well-cut mouth, showed that they
had been forced there. The humor in his
voice sounded as if it had stumbled over
a sad lump in his throat as he glanced at
Mrs. Murray.
"I wonder what he wants to speak to
me about?"
"It's about his room rent," ejaculated
Mrs. Murray, but her sharp tones only
broadened Weatherbee's smile and made
his voice more mellow.
"Mrs. Murray, he talks about it in
his sleep." His long well-formed hands
found their way to his trousers pockets, of
which the outer edges were worn through
showing the white lining. He heaved a
deep, heavy sigh and tried to hide its
cause by remarking: "It's a hard climb
up these stairs."
"It takes every bit of wind out of me,"
Mrs. Murray replied, and the quickness of
her speech and the serious tone of her voice
showed that she was not trying to be funny.
But Weatherbee's sense of humor teased
him and he saw a chance to carry on a
conversation for a few moments that
wouldn't injure anyone and might post-
pone the subject he knew Mrs. Murray
was there to talk on. He always found
her ready to accept praise, especially
about her youth; in fact, she was
quite conceited about her strength and
often told how she could outdo her
twenty-six-year-old daughter "washinV
He looked at her and smiled pleasantly and
his voice possessed a slight tone of soft
reproach :
"0 Mrs. Murray, why, you have wind
enough yet to climb to the top of the Flat
Iron Building."
The remark hit her bump of conceit.
She rocked herself slowly in the old wooden
rocker that squeaked at every move.
She hesitated a few seconds and finally
remarked carelessly: "Faith, Oi ain't got
half the wind Oi used to have," and then
she added with a great deal of pride,
"but Oi can go some yit," as she rocked a
little faster.
Weatherbee saw that he was safe from
being dunned for money as lon'g as he
could keep her mind centered on herself,
so he continued as he stood and looked
her straight in the eye: "Why, I always
thought you were just full of wind."
"Sure, Oi used to be. Oi used to could
be on the go all day and it niver bothered
me," and she swung herself in the little
chair from one end of its short rockers to
the other.
Weatherbee turned to hide his smile
and fumbled with some sheets of manu-
script on the table.
"It bothers other people though, doesn't
it?"
"What does?" and she brought the
rocker to a sudden stop.
"Why, their wind."
"Well, other people's wind don't bother
me, unless they gab too much with it.
Mr. Weatherbee, Oi'd like some money."
Weatherbee raised his head slowly, the
sheets of paper fell from his fingers, the
twinkle in his eye flickered away into an
expression of sadness. The deep hu-
morous lines in the corners of his mouth
faded. He was called upon to answer the
question that was put to him so often each
day and that he had tried to answer so
gently and so honestly each time. He had
made promises but was unable to keep
them. He tried to face his embarrass-
ment with courage, but he had resorted to
his pluck so often that it was growing
weak, and though his voice was firm it
lacked confidence, but was always gentle,
kind, honest and hopeful.
"Is that the reason you haven't been
around for the past few days, Mrs.
Murray?"
" It is," she replied quickly. " Oi've bin
makin' up yer room and doin' yer washin'
and walkin' five blocks to git here and fer
the past month ye ain't showed me the
color of a tin cint piece, and Oi'll do it no
more until ye pay me."
636
THE GUEST OF HONOR
Mrs. Murray's tones were sharp and
cutting and in her anger she had drawn
herself to the front of the rocker until it
tipped forward so far that its back almost
rested on her neck and she was a picture
which was hard to look at without smiling.
But there was no trace of humor in
Weatherbee's face and his voice was
filled with regret, though he spoke firmly.
"Mrs. .Murray, I can't ask you to do
any more until I pay you and I shall pay
you just as soon as I possibly can, and I am
very grateful to you for trusting me as long
as you have and I am extremely sorry that
I have had to keep you waiting."
"You're not half as sorry as Oi am," she
grunted sarcastically. "If ye'd go to work
at somethin' instid of foolin' yer toime
away writin' a lot of trash that no one
would waste time r'adin', sure that mess
of stuff that was writ in typewritin' that
ye gave me to read would make annione
sick to their stomach. The two love-
sick fools chasing each other around the
country," and she raised her voice in
disgust as she threw both hands up in the
air and continued, "and no human bein'
could read it fer the jaw-breaking words
ye use in it. I don't see how ye invint
such words as is in that thing. Can ye
let me have a dollar?"
"Mrs. Murray, if I had a dollar I think
I'd forget myself and pawn it!"
She paused a second as she watched
Weatherbee standing with his hands in
his empty pockets gazing at the floor and
then continued, her voice softened with
wonderment :
"Well, why don't ye go to work? Ye
can write and spell and figure. Why
don't ye git a job on a street car or git
into a store as a clerk? There is plinty
of things ye could do if ye wasn't so
lazy!"
Each word seemed to burn its way into
Weatherbee's ear. He raised his head
a. id asked slowly, as if to himself: "Do
you think I'm lazy, Mrs. Murray?"
"Annie man's lazy that won't work,"
she retorted. "Ye ought to be ashamed
of yerself adoptin' a boy and then keepin'
him lookin' like a rag-bag."
Weatherbee drew his hands from his
trousers pockets and his eyes stared va-
cantly into the distance, as he sat on the
corner of the table and wondered if Mrs.
Murray was right.
She watched him as he walked to the
banister and turned to see Wartle's
face sticking up over the railing.
"Hare you goin' 'ome?" he whispered.
"Yis, Oi'm wastin' me time here," she
answered as she started down the stairs.
"Don't forgit tonight," and he watched
her turn down the hall below. He placed
his elbows on the banister, ran his fat
fingers up among his side-whiskers and
rested his red face on both hands, as he
eyed Weatherbee severely with his small,
gray eyes.
"Mr. Weatherbee, Hi'd like to know
what you hintend to do habout the rent?"
Weatherbee didn't move, but smiled
and sighed politely.
"I intend to pay you, Mr. Wartle."
"When?"
"Just as soon as I can," and the hopeless
tone of Weatherbee's voice caused Wartle's
upper eyelids to fall down over the gray
pupils and give them an expression of
defiance as he yelled: "You've been
tellin' me that hevery day for hover two
months!"
"Not every day, Mr. Wartle."
"Hevery day," returned Wartle.
"I thought there was one day that you
forgot to ask me," exclaimed Weatherbee
in a tone soft enough to hide any sarcasm
or humor.
"No, sir," returned Wartle in a positive
tone.
"Perhaps I'm wrong," sighed Weather-
bee.
"You hare wrong," snapped Wartle,
"hand Hi'm sick hand tired working this
way for my rent, hand Hi'm not ha goin'
to hask you hagain."
"Wartle, do you mean that?" inquired
Weatherbee in a surprised tone that
seemed to possess a pathetic touch of
humor.
"Hi do mean hit."
" Hurrah!" exclaimed Jack from the
other side of the banister, where he had
been concealed studying an old torn picture
book and listening to a repetition of the
conversation he had heard many times
before.
"Jack!" Weatherbee called in a mild,
reprimanding tone, as Wartle jerked his
THE GUEST OP HONOR
637
head from between his hands and looked
over the other side of the banister at
Jack, who was turning over the leaves of
the book quickly.
"'Hi want my rent hor my room Satur-
day," and he pounded his fist on the
banister.
"Mr. Wartle, I'd like to be able to give
you both."
c< Ho, hif you pay your rent you can stay,
but hif you don't pay me Hi must 'ave
tny room Saturday, hunderstand, Satur-
day," and he muttered to himself going
down the stairs.
Jack peeked around the edge of the
banister and made a face at him that
sent his little nose high up in the air, but
the wrinkles soon died away as he watched
his father who was sitting on the corner
of the table gazing at the floor, with one
elbow resting on his leg and the other arm
hanging at his side. A forlorn look came
over his little face as he walked slowly
over to his father's side and he took his
hand in both of his and asked sadly:
"Dad, if we have to move, where shall
we go?"
The child asked the question that
Weatherbee was silently asking himself
and couldn't answer, but he had never
failed to find a cheerful reply to Jack's
many, many questions and they were
growing more numerous and more diffi-
cult each day.
"Oh, we'll find a place somewhere,"
and he supplied his voice with a false note
of cheerfulness as he continued: "Per-
haps we'll go camping."
Jack's eyes opened wide and his face
broke into a happy smile as he exclaimed
joyfully: "Under a tent?"
"Yes, under a tent, or a tree or some-
thing. Won't that be fine? "
Jack yelled as he hung to his father's
hand and jumped up and down with
delight.
Weatherbee drew. the child close to his
side and pressed both cheeks with his
hands affectionately and tried hard to
force another note of hope in his voice, but
the cheerful tones seemed to crack in
spite of his effort.
' ' Won't it, though ! I tell you we'll have
a great time, won't we?"
"And we'll cook under a tree like
the Indians?" and he pulled his head
away and looked into his father's eyes.
"Yes, we'll catch frogs and have frog's
legs for breakfast and we'll shoot wild
ducks and cook 'em for dinner."
"I wish I had some now."
"You play with your blocks. I've a
big surprise in store for you for your
lunch."
Jack took his seat on the floor by his
toy hospital and studied its construction
carefully, as Weatherbee sank into an old
wooden chair, placed his elbows on the
table and rested his head in his hand as his
mind traveled from one end of his situ-
ation to the other, .without finding any
way of improving it.
The sun peeked in through the little
window and seemed to dance on Jack's
light curls as he held his elbow in one hand
and rested his chin in the other as he sat
in an attitude of deep thought.
"Dad, what does God do with the old
moon when he sends the new moon out?"
"What's that?'\
"I say what does God do with the -old
moon when he sends the new moon out?"
Each word was clear and distinct and there
was no reason for Weatherbee to force
him to repeat it. He had answered thou-
sands of questions and thought the hard-
est ones had been asked, but he found this
more difficult than any. He cleared his
throat a few times as he searched for a
reply.
"Why — a — why, he just stores it away
in the clouds," and he gave a little "ahem "
of satisfaction as if congratulating himself
on a brilliant reply.
"I thought you said the clouds were
made of water."
"They are," replied Weatherbee quickly.
"Well, I should think the moons would
fall out and down on the earth."
Weatherbee raised his head from his
hand, turned and studied the child, who
was sitting with his chin on his little hand,
waiting for an answer.
"Well, you see — you see — a — the moon
floats — the moon floats like a cork — yes —
the moon floats like a cork."
"On this side of the clouds or the other? "
"On the other side, of course, on the
other side."
Jack's eyes grew more quizzical and the
THE GUEST OF HONOR
wrinkles in his little forehead deepened
as he pulled his eyebrows together.
"How is it that the new moon floats on
this side?" and he drew his little feet
close under his limbs and his bare knees
stuck almost straight in the air.
Weatherbee "ahemed" a few times and
finally started to speak, not knowing just
what he was going to say.
"Jack took his seat on the floor by his toy hospital
"Well, I guess the moon doesn't float
until it's full and — a — when it is full it
becomes — a — so full of cork that it just
floats right up to the other side," and he
turned his back to the child as he smiled
and reproached himself for making such
an idiotic reply.
"I guess the other, side of the clouds
must be full of moons, mustn't it?"
"Oh, yes — my, yes — the other side is
all covered with moons — it's just full of
moons."
"How many moons do you think are
up there?"
"Oh, thousands and thousands and thou-
sands," and he peeked over his shoulder to
find Jack still sitting in the same position
and his eyes dancing with wonderment.
"Can they talk to each other?"
"Oh, my, yes, yes. They can talk and
laugh and sing and dance!"
His face immediately broke
into a smile of childish de-
light, as he yelled: "Can they
really dance?"
And Weatherbee seemed to
forget his troubles, for his sad
face smiled and he spoke
cheerfully: "Yes, they dance
and kick up and have a lovely
time."
"How can they dance and
kick up? The moon hasn't
any legs!"
"Well-a-you see the moons
are round and they roll around
like balls and—"
"You said they kicked up!"
and a disappointed look crept
over Jack's face as he lifted his.
head from his hand and looked
at his father in a reproachful
way.
"Well," continued Weath-
erbee in a consoling tone:
"They bound up like rub-
ber balls," and he moved his
hands up and down, as Jack
placed his chin back in his
hand and inquired more seri-
ously than ever: "What do
the stars do?"
Weatherbee 's hands fell to
his knees as he gasped:
"What?"
"What do the stars do when they are
not on this side of the clouds?" he in-
quired in a pleasant tone.
Weatherbee rested his elbow on the
table and crossed his legs as he sighed in
despair: "Don't you want to go down
stairs and play with the cat?"
Jack jumped to his feet with a shout.
"Oh, yes, " and started for the stairs.
"Don't make a noise and don't go out
on the street."
"No, I won't," he cried and he started
THE GUEST OP HONOR
639
down the stairs but stepped back and
stood at the side and bowed politely.
"Good-morning, Mr. Warner." He took
the end of Warner's cane and pulled him
to the center of the room and ran down
stairs yelling back: "I'm going to play
with the cat, Mr. Warner."
CHAPTER IV
As Jack's voice died away in the dis-
tance, it left two smiling faces in the little
room. Weatherbee pushed his hands far
down into his trousers pockets as he leaned
against the edge of the door that opened
into a small closet, and a wave of grati-
tude passed over his face as he closed his
eyes and imagined he saw Jack down stairs
playing with the cat, and he dreamed back
over the child's life until he saw him sitting
on the floor of the little hall bedroom,
playing with a piece of old rubber doll,
and he heard him clapping his tiny hands
as he watched Weatherbee pouring milk
into his nursing bottle. He saw his mother's
frail figure lying on the bed and heard her
pleading to him to care for her babe. He
heard the friendless woman praying for
her child and wondered if she could now
see Jack and the cat.
Warner knew that Weatherbee's visit
with Mrs. Murray had been anything
but pleasant and he tugged at his wit
and good humor and begged them for
something encouraging to say, as he tapped
his way to the crippled rocker with his cane.
"John, you haven't told me about that
entertainment you went to, given by that
' Ten Club . ' Who recited your poem ? ' '
"The most beautiful girl I have ever
' seen. I got dizzy when I saw her and heard
her speak. Dark hair, tall, slender, and
her voice — "
"Why didn't you introduce yourself?"
interrupted Warner gruffly.
"Well, I don't mind telling you that I
thought of it, but I took a peek at the
fringe on these trousers and said to my-
self, if she sees me coming, she'll give me
a nickel and ask me to turn over a new
leaf."
"John, any girl who likes poetry loves
rags. Whose poem won the prize?"
And as Weatherbee informed him that
his was the favorite poem, Warner jumped
to his feet and shouted: "Hurrah" in a
voice that could have been heard a block
away.
"What was the prize, John?"
"I don't know. I haven't received it
yet. The club wrote me stating that it
would be presented at a luncheon to which
they invited me."
Warner swung his cane in the air, as
he exclaimed : ' ' Hurrah for Weatherbee , ' '
and his face was quite red with excite-
ment.
"But, Warner, I had to decline the in-
vitation."
"Why?"
"If you could see me, Warner, you
wouldn't ask. I look like a December
leaf on a chestnut tree."
"Those people won't look at your
clothes."
"They won't," replied Weatherbee hu-
morously, "for I won't give them a chance.
Why, Warner, I wouldn't have that girl
see me — why — she's — she's — I wish I
could describe her to you."
"John, I never heard you try so hard
to talk about a girl before — you are in
love — and I bet my life if she knew you
as well as I do, she'd be in love with you!"
"Warner, if that girl spoke to me, I'd
fall down!"
"You'd get up again and the fall would
do you good," and he rested himself in the
little chair and rocked contentedly.
"You never know where love is going
to light, John."
"Warner, I'm ashamed of myself for
even thinking of that girl."
"Why?"
"Why, a pauper like me, with every
stitch of clothes I own hanging in the
pawn shop, and I owe money to everyone
I know and no chance to pay them."
"John, you have every chance in the
world to pay them. Here you are twenty-
five years old and you have written half
a dozen books and every one of them is
clever, and they'll be published some day
and you'll be a rich man. Each book is
original. You have a style of your own.
There is no writer today writing in the
vein you are writing in."
"Maybe that is the reason I can't get
any of them published."
"Patience, John, patience. I wish my
chances were as good as yours — you're
640
THE GUEST OF HONOR
young ! You have everything before you !
Look at me, an old newspaper reporter
out of a job and can't get one because I'm
so blind I can't see to write a word.
"John, I can't see anything. I can't see
when the sun is shining, but I can walk
and not very good at that, for my old legs
are so full of rheumatism and age, they
can hardly carry my old body, but I make
them. I won't give up and I hobble over
to Central Park where I can smell the green
and feel the breeze from the trees and hear
the birds sing. I can't see them, but I
can hear them sing, and there is an old
robin up there, just inside the Seventy-
second Street entrance, that seems to
know when I come in and he sings and
sings and when the carriages drive by and
make a noise, he seems to grow jealous,
and he sings louder for fear I can't hear
him and when I start to come away he
seems to sing a good-bye and I can hear
him until I get away out into Broadway,
and I'm happy, damn it, John, I'm happy.
I won't be sad. I'm happy, they can't
make me sad, John, they can't make me
sad," but his smile would have been
moistened if he hadn't sneaked the tears
from the corners of his eyes with his bare
fingers, and Weatherbee stood in silence
as his heart applauded the man who
smiled at the world he couldn't even see.
He sauntered over and slapped him on
the back, and then gave his ear a slight
pull and placed his hand on Warner's
head and shook it affectionately.
"Warner, I'm proud of you. I am proud
to know you," and he gave his ear another
little affectionate twist.
"You mustn't get discouraged, John."
"Why, Warner, I am not discouraged."
"Don't you bother your head about
what you have hanging in the pawn shop.
You are going to look back at these days
and smile."
"Warner, I smile at them now, bless
your heart! When I see a funeral I laugh
because I'm not in the hearse," and he
seated himself on the table and swung his
feet to and fro as he described to Warner
the humorous picture he had of himself
leaving the small town of his birth and
starting out to set New York City on fire
with his literary efforts.
"Whenever I am in need of a laugh,
Warner, I look at myself driving up to
this house in a cab, renting the parlor on
the ground floor, and as my bank account
shrunk, I moved one flight at a time
until I have reached here."
"It's easier to go down than up, John."
"I think I was the most conceited pup
that ever struck New York!"
"You don't know what conceit is.
You gave away more money than you
spent. You helped the sick and you fed
the hungry. You have worked earnestly
and you will be rewarded and you should
be proud of your poverty."
"Oh, I don't mind poverty, Warner.
Honest poverty has got stolen wealth
sitting up nights taking sleeping tablets
and if I don't do some hustling, I'll be
sitting up nights myself," he remarked
with a dry smile, as he picked up a small
photograph in a wooden frame that was
standing on the table and gazed at it
steadily for a few seconds.
"That girl who recited my poem is
the image of Jack's mother," and Warner
smiled as he swung himself gently in the
little rocker that squeaked at every move,
but its squeak was soon buried by the
sound of Jack's voice.
"Rub-dub-dub. Rub-dub-dub. Rubidy
— dubidy — dub-dub-dub. Rub-dub-dub.
Rub-dub-dub. Rubidy — dubidy — dub-
dub-dub," and he pounded his little feet
on each step of the old stairs until he
reached the top and stuck out his chest
and yelled: "I'm a soldier," and con-
tinued the rub-dub-dub as he marched
down to his father's side and saluted him
and Weatherbee returned the salute.
"What did you do with the cat, Cap-
tain?"
And Jack saluted again, held the edge
of his hand to his temple as he replied in
a deep tone: "I pulled its tail, General,
and it ran down into the basement and out
of the back door."
Weatherbee ran his fingers through
Jack's curls and shook his little head as he
squeezed it tightly between his hands.
"Mr. Warner, we are going camping."
"When?"
"When are we going, Dad?"
"I think we are liable to go about
Saturday."
"An' we'll take Mr, Warner, won't we?"
THE GUEST OF HONOR
641
"If you don't take me, I won't take you
over to Mrs. Turner's for any more of
her nice jelly cake."
"We wouldn't go any place unless we
took Mr. Warner, would we, Dad?"
"You bet we wouldn't," and he gave
his head another little affectionate shake.
"You run down stairs and ask Mr. Wartle
what time it is," and he was almost to the
next floor before Weatherbee had time
to get to the banister and warn him, in
a suppressed tone, not to call him " Wartie "
and he yelled back a promising "no" from
the second floor below.
"Does he know you are going to send
him over to Mrs. Turner's for lunch, John? "
"No, I haven't told him yet. I've
kept it as a surprise for him. Warner,"
he continued as he folded his arms and
leaned against the banister, "you have been
holding out on me for the past two days."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you grown tired of my cooking?"
"How can you ask that after the way
I ate here the other night?"
"Where have you been eating since,
then?"
"At Mrs. Turner's."
There was a note of doubt in Weather-
bee's voice as he walked down to Warner
and remarked slowly: "You haven't
been over to Mrs. Turner's for your meals
for two days in succession! You have
been staying away because you thought I
didn't have enough to go around."
He placed his hands on the back of
the rocker and leaned down over Warner
and after a short pause whispered in a
voice of determination that startled
Warner, for he had never heard the note in
Weatherbee's voice before!
"Warner, before I'll see Jack hungry, I'll
steal, and when it comes to that, I'll steal
enough for the three of us, so you can come
here and eat until I cry quits." He
placed his hands on Warner's broad
shoulders and rocked him playfully.
"It is five minutes to twelve," Jack
shouted as he ran up the stairs.
Weatherbee clapped his hands together
as he looked at Jack and exclaimed in a
jovial tone: "By jove, I almost forgot
something. Come here till I wash your
hands and face," and he picked him up
and stood him on the table and ran to the
closet and got a sponge and rubbed his
little hands and face quickly.
"What is the matter, Dad?" and his big
eyes were wide open with surprise.
"Why, Dad almost forgot that he has to
go out on business, and Mr. Warner is
going to take you over to Mrs. Turner's
for luncheon, what do you think of that?"
"Oh, that is dandy," he exclaimed in
words that were interrupted by the
sponge.
"Dad has got to go out on business,
understand, regular business."
Jack shut his eyes and held his face
up as Weatherbee bounced the sponge
against his mouth as he tried to talk and
after a hard struggle finally asked : ' ' What
business?"
"Oh, regular business," Weatherbee
answered, as he ran for the towel and cov-
ered Jack's face as he tried to talk through
it.
"A boo— o— ok?"
"Yes, that's it— a book. Where is
your hat — quick!"
"Dad's in a hurry, an awful hurry,"
and Jack ran and got his little faded straw
hat and Weatherbee tied the blue stream-
ers under his chin and gave him a kiss
that made the child gasp for breath.
"There you are!" and he put his little
hand in Warner's, who was waiting at the
banisters.
"Good-bye, and give my love to Mrs.
Turner," he yelled, as Jack led Warner
down the stairs.
"We will. I hope they print your book,
Dad,", he shouted, as he pulled Warner
around the corner of the hall below.
( To be continued )
THE STORY OF A MAN
WHO MADE GOOD
Harry Lee Snyder
X BOUT ten o'clock in
the morning of the first
day of April the high
cost of living landed a
solar plexus blow. I
had just paid my good
German landlady for
my preceding week's
board and lodging, and
she had remarked
apologetically: "Potatoes costs so much an'
meat is so high once that it is I must ask
you for ten dollars every week already."
And I had been paying only seven! I
went to my office and sat down at my desk
to think things over — a not altogether
pleasant or wholly profitable task. I
was a lawyer. My honest old blacksmith
father — having in mind nothing but the
thought of securing my future — had made
numberless sacrifices that I might be
educated, and his dearest wish had been
to see me cozily established in my chosen
profession. Within a week after my ad-
mission to the bar he died, and I found
myself alone in the world, for my mother
had passed away some years before. As
I sat at my desk that morning I fell to
thinking of my father's last words to me:
"Be a man, Robert," were his last
words. "Don't be afraid of failure, but
beware of uselessness."
I was thinking about uselessness. To
what purpose, I asked myself, was I
standing idly in the already overcrowded
ranks of a myriad of lawyers? I was, I
realized, a failure, and the roadway ahead
of me seemed rough and wreck-strewn.
I didn't have the knack of getting busi-
ness— why should I deny it? I was fairly
well grounded in the elements of legal
learning, but knowledge alone, I reflected,
did not seem to attract clients, and a
lawyer without clients was as useless as
a fifth wheel of a wagon.
I reluctantly took account of my assets.
Of cash I had exactly twenty-five cents,
and of accounts due me — mostly of doubt-
ful value — perhaps as many dollars. I
owned an inexpensive desk, three second-
hand chairs, and thirty or forty dollars'
worth of law books. I had good health
and an abundance of energy and ambition,
but they were not assets susceptible of
speedy conversion into cash. I owed
nothing, but I knew that I could not say
as much by nightfall, for both my obliga-
tions to my landlady and to the owner of
the building wherein my office was located
were keeping pace with the sun in its
journey through the blue-vaulted sky.
It was not, perhaps, an entirely hope-
less outlook, but I kept thinking of the
uselessness my father had warned me
against. I began to suspect that the world
would never be any better or wiser be-
cause I had chosen to trail modestly along
behind Sir William Blackstone and his
illustrious disciples, and I was certain
that my inroads upon the professional
interests of my brother lawyers would be
imperceptible.
When the time came for me to lunch
I took my quarter out of my pocket and
stared moodily — almost resentfully — at it.
It gives a man a queer feeling down around
the pit of his stomach to contemplate
spending his last cent, and there are some
men who simply cannot bring themselves
to take the step. But I was not one of
them. I determined to lunch as sumptu-
ously as my modest means would allow,
and to that end I sought a restaurant
where the price of a meal just held my
single coin in a quivering equipoise. I
selected a seat near the door and con-
fidently ordered a repast of which boiled
beef and cabbage constituted the basic
ingredients.
Opposite me sat a prosperous appearing
(642)
THE STORY OF A MAN WHO MADE GOOD
643
man who was eating leisurely and with
the patent enjoyment of hale ruggedness.
His ruddy cheeks and clear blue eyes
testified to good health and a cheerful
spirit. His neatly trimmed gray beard
and well-fitting dark suit led me to think
he was a prosperous business man, al-
though there was an indistinct something
about him which reminded me of a glorious
apple orchard, just touched with the hoar-
frost of an October morning. Presently
came the frowzy-haired waitress.
"Apple pie or cottage pudding with
hard sauce?" was her demand.
"Apple pie," was my choice.
As I finished my dessert I observed that
my companion had concluded his meal
and was looking at me with humorous
wrinkles hovering about his eyes. Again
came the waitress, truculently. I tossed
my quarter upon the table before her with
contemptuous unconcern.
"Thirty cents," she observed tartly.
"Pie is extra."
"How is that?" I asked warmly. "Meals
have always been twenty-five cents be-
fore."
"New prices," she said, waving a grimy
hand toward a glaring placard upon the
dingy wall, "went into effect this mornin'."
I felt myself growing red to the very
roots of my hair and a prickly, shivery
sensation began traveling slowly up my
spinal column. I fumbled in my pockets —
although she must have read in my face
my fore-knowledge of the result — and
confessed :
"I have no more money with me; I'll
pay you the next time I come in."
"No, you won't," declared the waitress.
•'Have to call the boss."
I was contemplating an embarrassed
explanation to the proprietor — whom I
did not know — when the gray-whiskered
man interposed.
"Don't trouble the boss," he said,
throwing a nickel upon the table. "It
isn't worth while."
The waitress tossed her yellow hair and
walked away, while I turned to my com-
panion, vainly endeavoring to hide my
embarrassment behind a laugh.
"You are very kind to the needy," said
I, "but I don't know how soon you'll get
your nickel."
"Up against the high cost of living, are
you?" he smiled.
"So much so," I replied earnestly, "that
I have just given that waitress my last
quarter, and I don't see another in sight."
"Let's take a walk," suggested my new
friend, rising from the table. "I'd like
to have a little talk with you."
Arm in arm we went slowly down the
street, and I told him my name and my
story. I did not conceal my perplexities,
doubts, or misgivings, and I told him how
my father had warned me against useless-
ness. He made little comment, and I
saw that he was a man who did not employ
circumlocution but went straight to the
point.
"My name," said he, "is Thomas Ran-
nals and I am a farmer. If you want a
job, I'll give you twenty dollars a month
and board."
"But I know nothing about farming,"
I objected.
"Quite likely," he observed dryly. "If
you did I'd pay you thirty."
"Wait!" I cried. "Do you understand
that I have failed as a lawyer, and that if
I accept your offer it is only because I
have nothing better in view?"
"I think I do," he replied grimly, "but
the question is, will you try to earn your
wages?"
"Yes," said I.
"When can you go?" he asked.
"I'll be ready in an hour," I decided.
Getting ready was a simple operation.
I made an arrangement with the insurance
man who shared my office to make the
best sale he could of my meagre effects
and send me the proceeds, and then I
hurried to my boarding house, where I
packed my trunk and told my amazed
landlady that my room was at her dis-
posal. Well, within the hour Mr. Rannals
and I were on our way to his farm, which
was located some twenty miles west of
the city.
"Mary," said Mr. Rannals, "this is
Robert Chanlor — a lawyer who has failed."
It was my introduction to Mrs. Rannals,
a motherly, gray-haired woman to whom
my heart went out at once. And further
acquaintance only served to confirm in
me the ^belief that a kinder or more
womanly woman never lived. No one will
644
THE STORY OF A MAN WHO MADE GOOD
ever know what Mrs. Rannals did for me.
I can never make anyone understand how
she comforted me during my first days of
loneliness, or how her faith in me many
times helped me banish black discourage-
ment.
The next morning I was given an old
black team and put to work harrowing a
potato field. It was dull work, and tramp-
ing back and forth over the yielding earth
was especially trying on soft and flabby
leg muscles. By evening I was too tired
to eat, and after a hot bath I went to bed,
where I tossed for an hour or more, unable
to forget those tortured and complaining
muscles. The next day Mr. Rannals gave
me an easier task, but I was still unable
to see any joy in farm life.
Gradually my flabby muscles hardened,
and I was able to do my work without
undue weariness, but I took no pleasure
in it. The potato ground was at length
prepared, and I finished it on a big Aspin-
wall planter. But I was tired of my job
and about ready to quit; I could not see
that I was accomplishing anything.
Early one morning Mr. Rannals and
I walked out upon the potato field. The
dark green leaves of the young plants were
poking their way comically through the
soil, and in that moment I got my first
insight into one of the compensations of
the farmer. For the first time I saw some
of the tangible results of my own labor,
and there never came a time after that
when I could not look a little way into
the seemingly impenetrable future and
catch a glimpse of the pay-car.
"A good job," was Mr. Rannals' com-
ment, -"and every promise of a satisfactory
crop. If we farmers must venture the
hazards and uncertainties of changing
seasons, we none the less deal with the
verities. One solemn fact of life is creation,
and while we do not ourselves create,
we are constantly observing and are con-
tinually associated with the miracle."
At the close of the season I had more
money in the bank than I had ever had
before, for I had spent only a few dollars
for simple articles of clothing. At reduced
wages I remained with Mr. Rannals
during the winter, and the next spring
he employed me for the ensuing year at
thirty dollars a month.
With the apple blossoms of May came
Nancy, and I at once drew a part of my
savings from the bank in order that I
might freshen my wardrobe. Before that
time I had not noticed how ragged I had
become, but some linen, a couple of ties,
and a moderate priced suit did wonders
for my self-respect. Nancy Fitzgerald
was Mr. Rannals' niece, who had come
from Carroll, Iowa, to make her home
with her uncle — at least she would be
with them a year, Mrs. Rannals told me.
She was twenty years of age and as dainty
as the pink and white blossoms that came
with her. Her eyes were a clear and
sparkling blue, her hair undeniably red,
and her nose up-tilted, but I .didn't know
whether she was pretty or not and I
didn't much care; I knew that I was going
to like her and I hoped she was going to
like me.
"Nancy is a good girl and a capable
girl," said Mr. Rannals to me one day.
"We are her only living relatives, and I
hope she may make her home with us,
but whatever her final decision may be,
Nancy is well able to take care of herself."
I had no doubt about it, for it was
evident from the beginning that she would
not become a useless pensioner. I am not
sure but that is what attracted me most
in the beginning — her passion for useful-
ness. She and Mrs. Rannals were like
two girls together. They divided the
work of the household between them, and
Nancy always contrived to select the more
difficult and laborious parts of it.
During the summer I became more and
more interested in both the practical and
theoretical sides of farm work. Mr.
Rannals was a good farmer and a fairly
prosperous one, but he had small respect
for knowledge gained from books. My
own studious habits led me to understand
the necessity of theoretical knowledge,
and I spent a good many of my evenings
in reading and studying. Nancy fell into
the habit of studying with me and I was
amazed at her knowledge of the subject.
"Where did you learn all of this?" I
asked her one evening. "It seems to me
that you know something of every phase
of agriculture."
"Oh," she replied, "my father was a
student and he taught me all I know. He
THE STORY OF A MAN WHO MADE GOOD
645
"Nancy is a good girl
could have specialized in agriculture had
he so desired and made a success."
It was the first time she had ever spoken
of her father, and I concluded, from her
guarded words, that he had not been a
success in any line; and the fact that so
little had been said about him by Mr.
Rannals and his wife served to confirm
me in that belief.
"Doubtless," said I, "he had other
interests which' occupied his time and
attention."
"I do not think," she replied, flushing
slightly, "that he ever permitted any one
thing to occupy much of his time."
I was working in the cornfield one
morning in September, whistling softly
and thinking of Nancy. Some way I had
been thinking of Nancy a great deal during
the summer.
646
THE STORY OF A MAN WHO MADE GOOD
"Good-mornin'," said somebody behind
me.
I looked around quickly and saw a
comically weazened old man leaning on
the fence. He was small, slight and
stooped; his hair was long and gray; his
lean face was covered with a two days'
growth of beard, but his keen eyes were
black and constantly shifted from side
to side.
"It is a beautiful morning," I agreed.
"Be you a lawyer?" he asked slyly.
"I was a lawyer," I replied. "Just now
I am a farm hand."
"Very well answered," he said, and I saw
his shrunken shoulders quivering with
mirth as he hobbled away.
That evening I related the incident
to Mr. Rannals and asked him who the
old man was.
"That," he replied, "was Ezra Wilfest.
He is the richest man in the county — and
reputed to be the stingiest. He was asking
me about you the other day and I told
him you were a lawyer."
I determined, however, to become better
acquainted with the old man and to that
end I called upon him one evening. I
found him living all alone in what must
have once been a comfortable home. But
it had run to seed. Weather-beaten,
dilapidated, and stripped of all its finery,
it seemed to me the merest husk of a home.
And yet it comported well with the time-
worn old man who was its sole occupant.
He greeted me in a civil — almost friendly-
manner and I soon found myself telling
him the story of my life. He seemed
greatly interested in my father and in his
last words of advice to me.
"Uselessness," said he, "comes near to
bein' the greatest sin of young men today,
an' lawyers are the worst of the lot.
You're doin' more good -tli&n you ever
could whittlin' away -at the law, an' if you
ain't happier, you ought to "be."
"I don't know that I'm happier," said
I, "but I'm at least more contented."
"Workin' as a farm hand," said he,
"is a good way to be educatin' yourself,
but don't be keepin' it up too long. Get
a farm of your own an' rent if you can't
buy. Get a farm an' get a wife — that's
the only way a young man can ever prosper
an' amount to shucks."
I am afraid I blushed when the old man
advised me to get a wife, for I at once
thought of Nancy. She and I had been
together a great deal during the summer
and I had begun to rejoice in the thought
that she, like myself, was poor. We often
enjoyed the simple social pleasures of the
community together, and Mr. Rannals
and his wife had dropped into the habit
of occasionally drifting out of the sitting-
room during the evening and leaving us
together. I have always known that
Mrs. Rannals was largely entitled to my
gratitude for that.
It was in January that I asked Nancy
to marry me. Sitting before the hard coal
burner in the cozy sitting-room — with
one of the worst storms of the winter
howling outside — I asked Nancy to marry
me.
"Bob," said Nancy — and though the
tones of her voice were smooth and even,
her blue eyes were swimming — "I am
willing to marry you — but how in the
world, you dear, impudent boy, do you
think we would live?"
"Potatoes," said I.
"Potatoes," she laughed. "A monot-
onous diet, I am afraid."
"Now listen to me, Nancy," I said,
"and don't laugh. We are both poor,
but we can still be happy — and maybe
happier because we are poor. We shall
rent that old Durkin thirty-acre farm and
raise potatoes. I have saved four hundred
dollars — and I have learned how to grow
potatoes. I know that's a small capital,
I know it will be a struggle, but I can
make good, Nancy — only I need you."
"You are a foolish boy," said Nancy,
"but I believe you can make good — and
I love you."
Nancy's blue eyes invited me and I
kissed her — and then we said silly, absurd
and tender things to one another after the
fashion of all lovers, rich and poor alike.
At Nancy's request — although I did
not then understand her reason for making
it — I said nothing to her uncle or aunt
for a couple of days, and then I told Mr.
Rannals that I loved Nancy and wished
to marry her. I also told him how I had
planned to support her, although it seemed
ridiculous enough when I tried to justify
it to a hard-headed and practical farmer.
THE STORY OP A MAN WHO MADE GOOD
647
"You are a couple of simpletons,"
grumbled Mr. Rannals, "and I'm not sure
but that Nancy is worse than a simpleton.
So you are going to grow potatoes, are
you?"
"I am," I said, "and I can make good.
I am going to grow potatoes, work hard —
and take good care of Nancy."
"I'm not worrying about that," said
he. "Nancy is quite able to take care of
herself." He looked me over with a slow
and inscrutable smile and continued:
"I believe you'll do it, my boy — and
here's hoping that both you and Nancy
may win."
Nancy and I were married in the spring
and moved into the dilapidated Durkin
house. We had little money but a great
deal of love for each other. Mrs. Rannals
gave us enough old furniture to make us
comfortable, though without any pretense
at style, and certain new furnishings
mysteriously appeared which I also at-
tributed to Mrs. Rannals, although Nancy
smilingly refused to either confirm or
refute my suspicion. It was the first real
home I had known since the death of my
mother and I rejoiced riotously in it,
for the time almost forgetting our poverty
and the struggle ahead of me.
Potatoes mean plenty of hard work
and by no means unlimited wealth, but
I had chosen to rely upon that crop be-
cause it is a staple — something that people
must have. I was not afraid of work, and
Nancy, dear girl, seconded my efforts
nobly ; she was a constant and never-failing
source of inspiration and the very thought
of her drove me to do my level best.
"The potatoes shall be your work,
Bob," said Nancy, "and you will have to
get up early in the morning to beat my
chickens and garden."
I did get up early in the morning and
went to bed late at night; I had no fear
of hard work. Of course, neither my means
nor my strength permitted me to plant
the whole farm to the appetizing tubers,
but I did what I could and rented the
balance on shares to one of the neighbors.
By dint of hiring some work done and
paying for it by my own labor, I managed
to get along and soon had a fine crop under
way. Of working tools I had few, only
an old team, a plow, and a harrow.
Three times during the summer Mr.
Rannals took Nancy to the city on some
mysterious business, and once I saw in her
hands a letter bearing the name of one of
the big law firms of a Western state. I
was naturally curious about it, but Nancy
would tell me nothing; she would only
shake her pretty head and smilingly
insinuate that she was about to apply for
a divorce.
"Bob," said Nancy, one evening, "we
are getting richer every day; I can almost
see your potatoes grow."
"And the chirping of a hundred little
chicks," said I, "sounds to me like the
tinkle of gold coins."
There never was a couple who faced
the future more blithely, and no man
ever had a wife more. cheerful, self- sacrific-
ing or persevering than was my Nancy.
She never grew discouraged, and she would
not permit me to grow discouraged — but
no man who is so fortunate as to marry
a girl like Nancy has any right to indulge
in that questionable and devastating
luxury.
I had no time for visiting that first
summer, but I did see old Ezra Wilfest
occasionally. He came over to the farm
once in a while, and always gave me the
impression that he was secretly laughing
at me.
"Still think you ain't a lawyer?" he
asked one morning. "Ever think you'd
rather be diggin' in law books than among
these here potatoes?"
I leaned on my hoe and looked into his
sharp black eyes. "I wouldn't trade my
interest in these potatoes," said I, "for
the finest law practice that a man could
have. I'd rather deal with living things
— I'd rather have a growing, living plant
than a dead and lifeless brief."
Mr. Wilfest laughed silently. "We'll
see how it will be lastin'," said he. "We'll
see how you'll be feelin' when your crops
show signs of bein' failures. How's
Nancy?"
"Fine as silk," said I, "and as happy as
a lark."
"Show any signs of bein' discontented
with poverty?" he asked.
"Not one," I replied emphatically,
"and we're not going to be poor always,
either."
648
THE STORY OF A MAN WHO MADE GOOD
"Not while you're havin' Nancy
around," said he, "an I expect you
wouldn't be tradin' her for a crop of
fortunes."
Before winter we had harvested and sold
our crop, and found we had had an un-
usually successful season. Our debts were
paid, we had a snug little balance in the
bank, and almost enough provisions on
hand to see us through the winter. I was
in a mood to indulge in some unusual
extravagance.
"Nancy," said I, "let's have a dinner
party. Suppose we entertain your uncle
and aunt — and I should like to invite
that eccentric and lonely Ezra Wilfest."
"Bob," said Nancy, "we will. You have
made good."
It was a pretty successful dinner. Nancy
and I were hilarious, Mr. and Mrs. Rannals
seemed satisfied and contented, and Mr.
Wilfest, who had accepted somewhat
grudgingly, appeared to enjoy himself
as well as could have been expected. I
was proud of Nancy and proud of her
dinner. There was chicken of her own
raising, hot and flaky biscuit, and -in the
center of the table a great platter of
potatoes boiled in their jackets, and
through the split skins a feathery white-
ness gleamed. I could not refrain from
boasting a little after dinner, and I told
our guests just what Nancy and I had
accomplished that season.
"Robert," said Mr. Rannals, "I don't
know much about potatoes — they're only
a side issue with me— but I do know about
men, and you're one. A man — an honest
man — who has made good."
"Which reminds me," said I, "that I
owe you a nickel for a piece of apple pie.
Here it is." And I gravely passed the
coin across the table to him.
"Guess he's quit bein' a lawyer," com-
mented Ezra Wilfest dryly. "He's a-
payin' his debts."
Soon after the first of January Mr. Wil-
fest sent for me, and when I reached his
house I found him sitting alone in his
cheerless kitchen.
"Bob," said he, "did you ever think
of buyin' the Taylor place?"
Had I thought of it? Every nerve in
me throbbed and jumped at the mere
mention of it. It was the finest little
eighty-acre farm in the county. Not only
were its fields well cultivated and fertile,
but the residence was commodious, artistic
and convenient. I thought I would be the
happiest man on earth if I could see Nancy
presiding over it.
"Have I?" I gasped. "I have never
dared to even dream of 'it — I haven't had
time for dreams."
"John Taylor is thinkin' of sellin' it,"
continued Mr. Wilfest calmly. "You
know John was settin' out some years ago
to be a gentleman farmer an' he ain't
exactly been succeedin' in his plans. He's
wantin' to go to the city now an' be takin'
a job, an' he was tellin' me last night he
would sell out for seven thousand."
"I'd like to have that farm," I admitted,
slowly, "but you know as well as I do that
it's utterly out of the question."
Mr. Wilfest paid no attention to me and
continued slowly. "I've been watchin'
you an' Nancy," he said, "an' I'm thinkin'
you've both got plenty of sense an' grit.
I can be lettin' you have the money — say
at about four per cent. Pay it back when
you get around to it."
I gasped — and then shook his withered
hand vigorously.
"I must tell Nancy," I said breathlessly.
But Nancy, when I told her, did not
act as I supposed she would. She began
to cry. Then she raised her tear-stained
face, laughing through her tears, and
threw her pretty arms around my neck.
"Bob," she whispered, "I don't know
that you will ever forgive me — but I
wanted to be sure — sure — that you could
make good, and I couldn't risk marrying
a — a failure."
She stepped back and looked at me
smiling. "Bob," she said softly, "you
have made good, but best of all I love you
— and I'm worth fifty thousand dollars
in my own right."
G R.A F T
IN THE GRAVEYAIU)©
Marie Conway Oemler
NCLE ADAM CAMPBELL
had never heard of New
Thought, and wouldn't
have understood the mod-
ern phraseology wherein is
now being set forth the art
of Getting What You're
After. He did know, how-
ever, that he very much
wanted to be made keeper
of the colored cemetery,
a fat and fallow piece of
ground in constant use
since long before the Civil War; so keep-
ing his thought upon his desire, he got
what he wanted.
What was merely a graveyard to every-
one else was to Uncle Adam a golden
opportunity. Having taken faithful
charge of his domain, under his skillful
hand it began to blossom, not exactly
as the rose, but as the more useful, if less
romantic, cabbage, turnip, onion, tomato,
and other succulent garden "sass."
"Dem oP hills an' rows is sho' fine,"
commented Uncle Adam, after experi-
menting. "I ain't got to buy a Gawd's
mite o' fertilizer. Looks like dem oP
befo'-de-war niggers is jes' natchully
what's needed fo' cucumber and cabbages."
Under his patient care long forgotten
graves grew green with sage and parsley;
why waste on them ineffectual flowers
when pot-herbs are equally green and
gracious, and, beside, fetch five cents the
bunch? Taking the owner's permission
for granted he borrowed God's Acre and
made it yield an hundredfold; in the midst
of death he was busily in life.
All day long, with M'riah, his yellow
mule, Uncle Adam happily toiled, reclaim-
ing a bit here and a bit there, in every
minute he could spare from his regular
duties.
The best soup bunches, the earliest
lettuce, the finest, hardest cabbages of
appropriately the "niggerhead" variety,
were offered by Uncle Adam, and eagerly
bought by housewives. Good cooks
learned to wait for the rickety wagon
drawn by yellow M'riah, named with fine
and frank disregard of sex, in honor of
Uncle Adam's deceased wife.
"Dat mewl's so natchully like dat 'oman,
twell he's a heap o' comfort to me," the
old man confided to an interested cus-
tomer. "He's got de same look outer he
eye, de same kin' o' jog-walk, an' when
he lif ' up he woice I 'clar to Gawd hit seem
like muh wife's a-callin' me to cut de wood
an' bring een de water. Yessum, dat
mewl's a heap u' comfort to me."
As the years went by Uncle Adam be-
gan to regard his farm as being really his
own property, for had he not reclaimed
it? It had come to him rife with jimson
weed and nettles, and now pleasant rows
of good green eatables had taken their
places. His only grievance was that he
often had to make room for newcomers in
his own particular domain, the unclaimed
ground or Potter's Field.
He had nothing to say against decently
burying you in your own lot, where your
widow was free to put shells, jugs, cuspi-
dors, medicine bottles, cups and saucers,
and other household utensils over you to
her heart's content. But when you had
neither lot nor widow, or worse still,
widow minus lot, he regarded you as an
impertinent intruder, disarranging his
trim and orderly house with your new
yellow door.
Afterwards, of course, when your widow
had been consoled, and spring had helped
him paint your door green, Uncle Adam
looked upon you more kindly, and put a
choice bouquet of feathery carrots or fresh
(649)
650
GRAFT IN THE GRAVEYARD
pink radishes above you. Sometimes a
spasm of recollection seized your widow
and she came to visit you and claimed the
carrots and radishes, to the fury of Uncle
Adam, who had entrusted them to you.
Sometimes the rabbits came and nibbled,
but he preferred the rabbits to the rela-
tives any day; he could knock the rab-
bits in the head when he could catch
them, but one may only expostulate with
relatives.
Uncle Adam trove, waxed sleek, and
radiated cheerfulness, for his days were
days of pleasantness and all his nights
were peace. He had a healthy bank ac-
count, he was president of the Amalga-
mated Brothers and Sisters of the Rising
Star in the Bonds of Love; secretary and
treasurer of the Free United Sons of Zion
Burying Society, and vice-president of
the Sons and Daughters of Mary Mag-
dalen Marching on to Glory.
But as virtue and prosperity provoke
envy and malice, much as molasses draws
flies, when less initiative minds grasped
the fact that in hands entirely skillful the
free graveyard is mightier than the bought
farm — which no city pays you to attend
and then allows you to pocket the pick-
ings— good colored republicans sat up and
took notice.
When it dawned on Uncle Adam that
he might be deprived of his perquisites
he was at first indignant, then enraged
and then frightened. As the time drew
near for the city elections he sought to
placate the powers that be, and was
delicately informed that fresh vegetables,
though welcome daily offerings, were in-
sufficient; it was impressed upon him that
if you want a thing you must pay for it.
Sorrowfully he trudged behind M'riah,
lamenting the threatened loss of his king-
dom; sorrowfully he viewed the blooming
graves which had added so materially to
his worldly prosperity.
"Yo' wuzn't wuth a cuss but hoss-
nettles an' pizen weeds twell I come along
an' rickamembahed yo' mought be good
fo' vigitibbles," he addressed his garden
patches. "Yo' wuzn't good fo' nothin',
an' now when I mek yo' good fo' sum'p'n,
dey ups an' wants to tak yo' 'way fum me."
He wiped his perspiring face with a red
bandanna handkerchief, and groaned.
"I could buy a fahm," he mused darkly.
"Oomhoo, but it cawst good money to
buy Ian', an' den I'd hab to buy fertilizer,
too; but, my Gawd, attah I done pay fo'
de Ian' an' t'ings, wha's muh money?"
He leaned mournfully against M'riah,
who flecked an ear and cocked an eye of
sympathy. Uncle Adam reached out a
grateful hand and stroked the velvety
nose.
"Yo's a heap bettah'n de othah M'riah,
mewl," he praised. "Case yo' doan' mek
me trouble wuss, a-jawin' 'bout it."
M'riah lifted up his voice with a bray
that startled a rabbit from a carrot patch,
but Uncle Adam was too dispirited to
throw even a cuss-word at that persistent
enemy.
He was still leaning against M'riah in
mournful introspection, when the minister
approached with a solemn and secretive
air. Save for the mule Uncle Adam was
quite alone, but the minister peered fear-
fully around as if suspecting hidden
listeners were in the carrot patch.
"I has to talk wid yo'," he informed
the wondering Uncle Adam. "An' what
I say I ain't mean to hab repeated, so come
along one side an' listen at me, private-
like."
"My Gawd, man, what mo' private yo'
want dan dis?" asked Uncle Adam. "Tain't
nobawdy hyuh but me an' de mewl,
ceptin' de daid; dey can't talk, an' I won't
talk."
The minister took him by the arm and
firmly led him away from M'riah, as if
that faithful beast might bray aloud what
wasn't intended for his long ears.
"Hit's pollerticks," he informed Uncle
Adam solemnly. "Dey's dem what's
plottin' fo' yo' livin', Mistah Campbell,
an' ez a fren' an' a Christian I'se hyuh to
talk wid yo'. Yo's got a mighty pooty
place hyuh, Mistah Campbell," he in-
sinuated.
"Hit's me what made it pooty," growled
"Mistah Campbell".
"I ain't sayin' yo' didn't," deprecated
the minister. "But I is sayin' yo' bettah
fix t'ings so's yo' kin keep what yo's got."
He leaned closer to Uncle Adam. "I'se
a powerful 'xorter an' mover o' sperrits,"
he whispered. "Ef'n I had a decent suit
o' clo'es an' some shoes an' a hat, an' a
GRAFT IN THE GRAVEYARD
651
sh'ut fitt'n to 'peer een, I c'd see de right
pussons, Mistah Campbell, en move 'em
to let yo' keep yo' job."
Uncle Adam's heart contracted painfully.
"How much yo' want, man?" he wailed,
his eyes on a cabbage-covered mound.
"I cyant do a Gawd's t'ing less'n I got
a full forty dollars," said the tempter.
"Come tonight an' git it," groaned
Uncle Adam, after a silent wrestle with
himself.
When the minister had left, Uncle Adam
went back to M'riah, and leaned against
him for support. Beside him a small
white wooden cross proclaimed, in faded
letters, that,
"Mary had a Little Lamb;
Its skin was Black as Nite,
The Kine Lawd come and took the Lamb
And now I guess its White";
but neither the poetry nor the pathos
moved Uncle Adam. He looked at the
tomato vine tied to the cross, and al-
most wept; not because Mary had lost
her lamb, but because he feared he might
lose his tomatoes.
It was horrifying to Uncle Adam when
he found out how many people he had to
furnish with hats, or shoes, or pants, or
groceries, or house rent, in order that they
might intercede with the right "pussons,"
but having put his hand to the bribery
plough, he had to follow it to the bitter
end of the furrow.
He ran distracted thither and thither;
he lost time and sleep and money and
peace; and finally he lost his job. Uncle
Adam wasn't re-elected keeper of the
colored cemetery; it fell to Elder Wash-
ington Hanks.
Uncle Adam snorted with rage and
disgust. Elder Hanks, of all men, who
wasn't worth anything but to pass the
plate in church and lead the hymn in a
bull-basso! Elder Hanks, who had never
done a hard day's work in his life, but
subsisted upon choice morsels filched
from the "buckrah's" kitchens by pious
cooks and heaven-aspiring housemaids.
Uncle Adam shrewdly guessed that the
Elder's strong-minded sister-in-law, Molly
Middleton, beloved of the white people,
had induced her friends to put him in the
cemetery, into which she would much have
preferred seeing him enter as a respectable
corpse; he couldn't, in justice, blame
Molly Middleton for thus shifting the
burden of her brother-in-law's partial
support from her own shoulders to those
of the city.
Molly Middleton had the show-lot in
the colored cemetery. The marble token
of her widowhood which marked her hus-
band's resting place quoted, "I am black
but comely," adding that the deceased
had been a good man and the husband of
Mrs. Molly Middleton. A cast-iron
wreath leaned against the monument; two
large vases, whereon blue and pink roses
entwined a gilt cross, several large shells,
a pink cup and saucer, and a bright blue
china spittoon, embellished the grave.
"It looks real stylish," sighed the widow,
with melancholy pride.
Elder Hanks had supinely allowed him-
self to be appointed keeper, believing that
all he had to do was to drive Uncle Adam
from Eden and preempt his perquisites
and profits. He had lavishly agreed to
reward those who had helped him secure
what he believed to be a fat job, and
looked upon Uncle Adam's vegetables as
part payment of his obligations.
It was therefore a painful surprise
to him when Uncle Adam promptly pre-
sented him with an order restraining him
from touching a crop planted in good
faith and with the city's tacit consent;
and further, having rented a small plot of
ground next to the cemetery, the ex-
keeper was thus enabled to keep a very
watchful eye upon his property.
M'riah belonged to Uncle Adam, and
Elder Hanks found himeslf without a
"mewl"; and what normal negro can work
without a ' 'mewl" ? There is between them
a bond of sympathy and understanding,
and they will work for each other as neither
will work for the white man. The hot
sun made the Elder sick, the unaccustomed
work blistered his hands. He found him-
self precipitated not into Eden but out
of it.
Molly Middleton forced him to spend
laborious hours embellishing her lot,
without pay; he hadn't time to call so
frequently on his lady friends, and his
stomach suffered greatly thereby; he
couldn't levy on Uncle Adam's crop, and
his crowning trouble was the staving off
of the hungry horde to whom he had
652
GRAFT IN THE GRAVEYARD
promised a share of the spoils. It made
no difference to them that there were no
spoils to be had; they clamored just the
same.
Uncle Adam looked on with grim satis-
faction. He had been ousted, but the
new monarch didn't know how to reign, and
anarchy resulted. When he saw bullet -
headed persons with underhung jaws come
to the cemetery and call the keeper aside,
he grinned.
Toward the minister he cherished the
only animosity his kindly nature was
capable of entertaining. That taker of
bribes had made him promises which
he had not kept; he had separated Uncle
Adam from forty dollars, and then de-
serted him for a promised tribute from
Elder Hanks and a word from Molly
Middleton.
He had kept out of Uncle Adam's way
at first, but later, judging that the old
man's power had diminished with his bank
account, ignored him completely. As
he grew more brazen he came almost daily
to demand from the new keeper the money
which had been promised him.
Elder Hanks, soured, disappointed, over-
worked, and nagged beyond endurance,
turned at bay. He had lost twenty pounds
and gained twenty blisters. His back
ached from bending, his mind fermented
with anger. He had gathered a lot of
perfectly useless bones one day and sold
them to a white farmer for fertilizer, and
some foolish and meddlesome people had
just heard of it and had threatened to
raise a scandal. Life began to taste bitter
in his mouth.
One morning, therefore, when the
minister again called, Elder Hanks turned
his back upon his tormenter and walked
off. The minister followed, expostulating,
and thus they made the rounds of the
cemetery.
Uncle Adam had been watching a choice
assortment of herbs, almost ready for
cutting, in a deserted lot next to Molly
Middleton's. It was warm, and he sat
in the shade of a large spirea bush
and dozed. He was roused by the sound
of an angry voice, and peered fron his
place of concealment to find the minister
and Elder Hanks glaring at each other,
within a few feet of him.
The minister raised his voice still higher,
and "thief," "robber," "liar," "bum,"
"low-down nigger," and other insulting
epithets rained upon Elder Hanks, who,
with hands on his hips, faced him without
replying. When the minister paused to
take breath, Elder Hanks shook a con-
temptuous finger under his nose.
"All dem t'ings yo' say I is, yo' is," he
said bitingly.
The minister's reply was a box on the
ear, and the next second they were upon
each other. It was only when they fought
their way toward him and began to trample
upon his cherished herbs that Uncle
Adam roused from his trance of rapture,
and leaped forth with a howl.
"Git off'n my grave! Tek yo' foots
fum my passley, an' quit tromplin' on my
sage! Git off, I tell yo'! What yo' mean
mussin' up muh grave, niggers?" he
bawled.
He seized the struggling pair, and with
a well-directed shove sent them over the
low stone coping into the next lot, to topple
upon the stylish grave of Molly Middle-
ton's husband. Elder Hanks' hard head
shattered the blue spittoon which was
Molly's pride; the bony body of the
minister smashed the shells and vases.
There was a horrible sound of shivering
china, and the combatants rolled off of
the grave and sat up, one on either side.
The minister was a wreck, for dirt and
the hands of Elder Hanks had ruined the
suit which Uncle Adam's money had
bought; and every rent in those clothes
was as balm to Uncle Adam. He watched
the dilapidated one pick himself slowly
and painfully up from the wreck of Molly
Middleton's mementoes, and with threats
and complaints limp away, knowing that
fate, in the form of the hot-tempered
widow, awaited him.
When the minister's mutterings had died
in the distance, Uncle Adam turned to
Molly Middleton's brother-in-law, upon
whose forehead a large and forbidding
lump was rapidly gathering.
"Yo' sho' is a sight, Elder Hanks,"
said Bidlad the Shuhite in the person of
Uncle Adam. "It jes' natchully looks
like a nigger goose done laid a big black
aig on yo' fo'haid. An' I suttenly trim-
bles," he continued wildly, "when I
THE WAYSIDE INN
653
rickamembahs de sto' Molly Middleton
sot on dat blue spittoon an' dem cups an'
t'ings. She's a pow'ful good thrower an'
hitter when she gits started, too, Molly
Middleton is."
Elder Hanks raised himself up from the
wreck with a rueful countenance, picked
a piece of the blue spittoon from the small
of his back, and wiped a trickle of blood
from his neck where a fragment of the
vase had gashed him.
"Wish to Gawd I'd kep' outer de dang
oP cemetery twell I natchully had to be
toted to it," he lamented, trying to brush
the dirt from his garments. "One t'ing
sho', ef I doan' git outer it alive pooty soon
I'll Ian' up een it daid, dat's what."
"We's all got our trials an' tribulations,
whichin we has to bear an' trus' een
Gawd," exhorted Uncle Adam unctuously.
"Uncle Adam," said Elder Hanks
firmly. "I'm goin' to trus' een a peace
warrant fo' dat nigger, an' Ian' him een
de calaboose fo' 'salt an' battery, likewise
bribation. .1 ain't got no money lef, an'
I ain't got no fren' lef. I got to dodge
Molly Middleton, too, 'ca'se she'll bus'
muh haid wide open like I busted her blue
spittoon.
"I don' want no sich job es dis nohow,"
he went on vehemently. "Dey'd lef yo'
keep it ef twusn't fo' Molly Middleton
makin' 'em gie it to me. I resigns, I
quits, I throws it up dis minnit. Take
back yo' job, Unc' Adam, an' I hopes to
Gawd yo' soon be raisin' turnips on dat
low-down nigger whut helped Molly
Middleton to mek me come hyuh. An'
fo' Gawd's sake, Unc' Adam," he added
piteously, "len' me fifty cents to git a
shampoo an' a bite o' vittles."
Uncle Adam reached down in his jeans
and silently handed him a dollar. He
then went to the gate with the fallen one,
and watched him tramp down the dusty
road. M'riah was hitched to the fence,
and Uncle Adam loosed the halter and
brought him inside. -
"Yo' an' me is comin' back, M'riah,
honey," he chirped.
M'riah lifted his voice in exultant brays,
and a rabbit darted from a clump of
blackberry vines, pursued by a clod of
earth which Uncle Adam hurled after
him.
"Bern yo', keep oof'n muh graves!"
he shouted. "Jes' yo' watch out, Brer
Rabbit, an' see me Ian' yo' een one o'
dem traps I'm gwine to set."
With his arm twined lovingly around
M'riah's neck, he went whistling down
the rosy Road o' Hope.
THE WAYSIDE INN
(SUDBURY, MASSACHUSETTS)
By EDNA DEAN PROCTOR
CET by the meadows, with great oaks to guard,
•^ Huge as their kin for Sherwood's outlaw grew,
Oaks that the Indian's bow and wigwam knew
And by whose branches yet the sky is barred, —
Lightning, nor flame, nor whirlwind evil-starred
Disturbed its calm; but, lapsing centuries through,
Peace kept its doors though war's wild trumpets blew;
And still it stands beside its oaks, unscarred.
Ah, happy hostelry, that Washington
And Lafayette among its guests can number,
With many a squire and dame of old renown! —
Happiest that from the Poet it has won
Tales that will ever keep its fame from slumber,
Songs that will echo sweet the ages down!
Copyright, 1905, by Edna Dean Proctor
WHAT A WOMAN KNOWS
Letters of Maxie.an Actress
Ora Lee Bargamin
HAMPTON, VIRGINIA, October 10, 1910.
DEAR ELIZABETH:— I
do believe that the
road to Fame is more
bumptious than the
Rocky Road to Dub-
lin! Who would have
thought the jars and
bumps of strenuous
acting would finally
land me 'way down
here in "ole Virginny"? Yet, here we are;
Aunt Janie and I. It's so lonely here with
nothing but James River, Hampton Roads,
et cetera, making a big splash all around
the Peninsula!
I remember when I was young. . . Ah!
pshaw! I mean younger. I used to think
that the Hampton Roads was paved with
cobble stones! Now that I actually see
it and know better, the thought is yet
suggestive, for the waters are usually just
as wobbly. But here, I am deviating.
Of course, you darling girl, of all the
desirables I had rather you were the one
to "fill the bill!" But it does seem, when
I had just commenced to make good at
the New Theatre, that the final draught
of success might have been mine ere this
nerve fever had set in! How tantalizing
to have the cup so near and then be com-
pelled to set it down! Guilford said that
I would have had a successful run this
year in "What Every Woman Knows,"
especially since my debut was effected
last season, and New York and I were
about to become acquainted. (What
I want to know is: Why will a woman go
to see what every woman knows? Pshaw!
Would a Scotchman smile at that?)
To return to Guilford. I am sure, my
dear, you will like him even if he is fat.
He is a good manager, and his tempestuous
moods quiet to a mere zephyr before a
winsome smile. Try some of yours in
broken doses whenever you may find that
they are needful.
You see I am posting you. You have
been so much out on the Coast and so
little in New York that I think you will
find my hints useful, after all. Eh?
Gilbert Loftin is good to lead with; his
eyes and heart are the first things your
heart begins to thump to. Aren't they?
You know; you've rehearsed with him.
But do be careful, girl. And only lead
with him. First thing I know you'll have
the "with" in parenthesis and there'll
be simply "lead him" staring us all in
the faces! Don't. Though with your
baby-blue eyes and baby mouth, how can
you help it? Nevertheless, I repeat —
don't. When you go behind the scenes,
keep on the mask for my sake. Will you?
Gilbert and I are old pals, but he's got a
weak spot in his heart that just yields
immediately to a fascinatingly pretty
girl. (What man has not?) But I'm
usually around to cover that spot up — to
protect it — to protect my own interests.
Now it's different; and distance doesn't
lend any enchantment, either.
Be good; give my regards to the com-
pany; smash any heart you like but
Gilbert's — that's mine, and I don't want
it the least bit damaged. . . MAXIE.
HAMPTON, VIRGINIA, October 13, 1910.
Darling Girl:
Three days of grace! Well, old New
York doesn't seem so far away after all,
when you can post a letter here Mon-
day morning and receive a reply by
Wednesday.
I must compliment you on your letter.
So newsy! Just the very thing for this
exiled self o' me. For the time being I
was transported among all of you once
more, and enjoyed the little chats and
gossip as only a hungry heart can.
(654)
WHAT A WOMAN KNOWS
655
Oh, for the din and roar of noisy New
York once more! 'Tis the only music
can soothe this savage breast. The com-
radeship, the laughter, clatter; the mad,
wild confusion of things; the dear, gay
lights of old Broadway! It is home to me.
I cannot live without it; I cannot rest
away from it! I long for it as only a New
Yorker can. Even you cannot; for you,
cherie, have been so long away from us
that I would dub you "Calif ornian."
While I, in New York, have lived the best
part of my life — or the worst; sometimes
I am not sure which.
Here everything is so quiet and deadly
calm at night as early as ten o'clock!
Imagine. So still, so still; and I am so
wakeful. Last night I arose in one of the
wee, sma' hours, and looked from the
window. Such a dearth in noise — so
complete a silence, that I looked up and
actually fancied I could hear the moon
rustling in and out among the clouds!
So you want to know what is happen-
ing to me? Attention: I don't think that
I have told you before — being naturally
so upset at having to leave my company
at this critical period in the season — but
Aunt Janie and I have secured a dear,
cozy bungalow on the Boulevard, which
runs along the banks of the famous,
historic Hampton Roads. I imagine that
the summer months, -cooled by the briny
breezes that sweep shoreward, must be
incomparably delightful.
I am glad we are in this part of the
country, after all. The Soldiers' Home
Grounds — Fortress Monroe — and other
places hereabout furnish excellent "copy"
for my stories; and I expect to do much
work in that line at least. Having been
forbidden to put the smallest thought
upon my public profession, I must devote
my leisure to that love of my earlier days
which was endured so long suffering in
silence.
I don't know that old Dr. Giddons
would approve this latter resolution, since
his strict orders were to exercise extreme
caution in any diversion whatsoever I
should undertake. When I complained
of the ennui of such idleness as he wished
me to adopt, he flew into a rage and ex-
claimed:— "Stay here, then! Work, your-
self to death. You've got just about
eleven months and thirty-one days left!"
Then I filled my eyes with tears, and he
patted me on the shoulder softly and tamed
down a little: "You little humbug. Do
as I tell you now. Go to Old Point Com-
fort, or Hampton and locate right in sight
of the water and the open; don't crowd
in anywhere! Get the fresh air into your
lungs and let that be the most strenuous
work you do — breathing. Give up —
relax — sit around — read — eat heartily —
drive — go to bed early and sleep long and
well." Thus his parting injunction.
Indeed, I have obeyed him so far; but
for me, the call to activity is positively
irresistible! This part of the country
with its mystery, history and romance,
invites — nay, commands my hand to the
pen, and I must write! With such charm-
ing material and so strong an impulse,
who would not yield?
I have saved until the ending of this
letter a surprise which I shall now spring:
(Prepare). I am going to sing at an
Episcopal Church here which reminds
me very forcibly of "The Little Church
Around the Corner," which, as you know,
is about the only church I've ever attended
since entering the "Art World" — and
even then most infrequently.
Ciel! Would that you might join the
choir invisible and participate! Amen.
(I should like to view your expression
at present — though I believe that I have
a correct conception of it!)
I am somewhat surprised myself, when
I fairly open my eyes upon the realization
of the thing. But it was all so simple,
cherie.
When I returned at dusk yesterday
from a drive, by mistake, I walked into
the bungalow next to ours. Of course,
once within, I discovered the error and
hastened to depart; but a kindly old lady
came forward to bid me welcome. I ex-
plained my presence, and we enjoyed the
joke like two old cronies. This morning
she came to call on us and introduced
herself as the Episcopal minister's mother!
Spying the music room, she enticed
me therein and committed herself to an
hour's painful endurance — for you know
my chronic weakness for music! When
you oncejead me to the piano, it is im-
possible to tear me away! The Lord
656
WHAT A WOMAN KNOWS
knows why she is so intent on my render-
ing this — er — infliction Sunday. However,
I am programmed for same and shall try
to recall some prayers of my childhood
days to tide me over the crucial moment.
I can face an audience with words and
gesticulations; with tears and laughter;
J
"O/ course we got lost frequently from Aunt
Janie and his mother"
and vehemence — emotion of any sort,
but — with a sacred solo? Viola! I pause.
Au revoir, sweet girl; you and lights
and life seem a long, long distance from
me tonight. MAXIE.
P. S. Here I have cast aside my nom
de plume, and stand forth stripped of all
celebrity — simply Maxie O'Rell. I regret
not having informed you of this in my
first letter. Your reply would not have
reached me save for the correct address.
I had even then a trifling trouble identify-
ing myself to the postman's satisfaction.
M.
HAMPTON, VIRGINIA, October 25, 1910.
My Girlie; Your letters! I have every
need of them, though they are to me as
poison. Slowly creeping through my
blood, they will be the death o' me yet!
How can I sit idly about with your words
running through my brain like fire, touch-
ing every hidden thought of the old life,
(even at this early period it has come to
seem so distant that I invariably refer to
it as the "old life!") kindling these thoughts
and making every impulse in me burn
bright with the longing for New York —
the "boards"— and you (and Gilbert).
I can hear the roaring applause; I can
see you before the curtain with Gil-
bert— your hand in his — I witness
your triumph — Ciel ! It is hard to be
so far away!
Of course I hear from Gilbert —
every other day. But your letters con-
tain the "news." His? Well, we are
pals. Strange he has not once men-
tioned your name to me nor in any
way referred to you. I asked him point
blank how he liked you, but this query
has received no response. Have you
hypnotized him? Enlighten me!
I am glad our play gives evidence
of so prosperous a run; but there is no
reason why it should not. The com-
pany is a strong one and each well
adapted to his particular part. Now, I
shall tell you, ma cherie, what occurred
last Sunday.
I sang; without a tremble — without
a halt — and the congregation received
it — the solo — very peacefully after
all. . . After service I was introduced
to the Reverend John Stetson, by his
mother. We managed a very friendly
conversation for ten minutes!
Elizabeth! I have a very wicked
scheme afoot ! In casting about for a hero
amidst these suggestive surroundings, I
pounced upon the minister — mentally,
of course! I am upon my best behavior;
dignified to the extent of sanctification —
neither you nor Gilbert would recognize
this new me! Now the Reverend John
Stetson is coming over to call on me in
the very near future: a prediction. Wait:
see! Oh, it will be delightful! Such a
novelty to have a minister for study —
for copy in my new story. Oh, by the way,
WHAT A WOMAN KNOWS
657
I might mention right here that I would
prefer your silence on this matter. Others
— er — Gilbert, if you will have it, may
not understand — as you do, dearest.
Last night I dreamed you and Gilbert
were married after the evening per-
formance. I ran in to protest — too late!
The ceremony was just completed. Quite
a horrible nightmare, I assure you, dear
Elizabeth. Assuage my fears and doubts,
or my nerves will be playing fatal tricks
upon me soon.
Here come Aunt Janie and Mrs. Stetson
up the drive; and I do believe . . . yes!
The minister is with them. Do you hear
me laugh — see me wink as I whisper
"I told you so?"
Deepest love,
MAXIE.
HAMPTON, VIRGINIA, November 15, 1910.
Dear Elizabeth; — "There is nothing new
under the sun," yet there is always some-
thing left to learn— paradoxical, n'est-ce-
pas? Who would have thought a minister
capable of really excellent jokes, fond of
really picnicial outings, et cetera? Not
I — of all people. The sum and substance
of this explosion is: the Reverend Mr.
John Mitchell Stetson offered to conduct
us on a little tour about his city and to
the points of interest thereabout.
Of course we got lost frequently from
Aunt Janie and his mother, particularly
at Fortress Monroe. Here we were lost
for such a length of time that when we
returned to the officers' quarters where
we had left Aunt Janie and Mrs. Stetson
in charge of a guide — who was waxing
eloquent before the small quarters where
Jefferson Davis had been imprisoned —
these two dear old souls had departed.
When we walked in our bungalow at
dusk it was truly with the feeling of dis-
obedient children and I really enjoyed
the childish wickedness of it all — I believe
he did, too — there was such a mischievous
smile on his lips as he addressed his mother
and my aunt sitting before a cozy fire
in our library: "I see you left us? Well,
I don't blame you!"
I did so enjoy the visit to the Fort.
At sunset we were standing upon the
rampart at the rear of the grounds when
a private came up the incline to lower
the flag, and another followed to fire the
gun.
We were quite near the former, and I
exclaimed: "Oh, I should love to haul
in the flag!" The man looked at me —
smiled, waved his hand toward the cord
as it left his fingers, then stepped aside.
The great old cannon went "boom!" under
the gunner's assistance, while I drew the
flag slowly to the ground from the high
pole. The men left us immediately, and
we remained in silence gazing for some
time out over the Point. The view was
excellent; the great gray monsters in the
waters loomed up proudly and warningly
to any hostile eye. Across the stillness
of the twilight hour floated the sweet,
thrilling strains of the "Star Spangled
Banner."
I didn't feel like shouting or applauding
as Southerners are moved to do, but,
somehow, the entire scene awakened a
mournful note in me, and I could have
sat there upon the rolling bank and sobbed
a most appropriate accompaniment with
the assistance of water-works. But the
minister is a Southerner; when he turned
to me I fancied I must have inflicted my
lachrymose mood upon him. His face
was grave. He said: "Let us go."
Just then the ships' bells chimed "one,
two, three!" (This I have learned means
five-thirty o'clock). All the way home
he tried to cheer me with some amusing
jokes and I must say I became interested
though not entirely restored to my usual
spirits of effervescence.
I do not know what made the mood
swoop down upon me and retain me in
its clutches. But in those few reminiscent
moments I longed inexplicably for some-
thing which seemed so far away — and it
wasn't New York either . . . nor you —
nor Gilbert! That's why I can't under-
stand.
Oh, I am just reminded of the questions
you propound. Yes. I knew Gilbert
had gone to Nevada; And it was certainly
a good thing Van Greeter could have been
at hand so opportunely. Though I be-
lieve he is not nearly so well adapted to
"John Shand" as Gilbert is. He has not
the personality Gilbert has. No, dear;
Gilbert did not inform me of the contents
of his telegram. Indeed I do not think
658
WHAT A WOMAN KNOWS
it strange. Why should you? Perhaps
it was sad news; perhaps — well, anyway
you know a man is naturally of the clam
species where his own affairs are concerned.
But in the end, Gilbert comes to me with
his worries and plans, all rolled into one
big confidence and all that he has tried
to keep from me unfolds to the least dark
corner. That's why we are such real good
comrades — Gilbert and I.
I am nearing the completion of a short
story with these surroundings and the
minister for copy — but am stalled in the
"round up!" I think a few more visits
of the Reverend John Stetson will set
my inventive brain to work once more.
Quelle idee! Affectionately,
MAXIE.
HAMPTON, VIRGINIA, November 28, 1910.
Elizabeth! Your today's letter exploded
as a bomb under my feet, and I have not
yet gotten myself all together since re-
turning to the earth !
Tell Dr. Giddons that after the survival
of this test he may rest assured his
patient will live until the second childhood
age — and beyond!
Gilbert married! And for the past
five years! The brute — to have left that
poor woman away out in Nevada! Yet . .
I don't know, cherie, we shouldn't judge,
I suppose, being ignorant of the facts and
circumstances. Think you? But I can
forgive Gilbert; yes, dear, I can forgive
him, and I am happy that his wife re-
covered, after all. •
You say that Guilford knew the whole
thing when Loftin left? Why should he
have told you? Our manager's pronounced
characteristic is his silence — his very
brusque and business-like silence, on all
personal matters. And he confided to
you? Well, I confess my stupidity. These
successive surprises have taken the very
wit o' me!
However, tonight my heart is so heavy
I feel I must unburden it to its last thought
that I may betimes sink witless and
thoughtless to bed . . . and, I pray, to
rest.
As usual, when the foolish individual
flies into an alluring web, Fate is there in
character of the spider to see that the
poor de'il gets his deserts. I thought
John Stetson was good copy for a story
and friendly pastime for an exiled artist.
Alas! He thought me a good woman;
tender and considerate, with all femininely
winsome attributes to make an ideal com-
panion for a minister!
I must tell you all or nothing. The
cap has been drawn and the stream of
grief will flow to its least drop to you; so
lend your kindly forbearance.
In his study at the church — we had gone
there for a copy of Omar Khayyam — he
told me of his love and asked me to be-
come his wife. Then I realized he made
the offer to only the imaginary me! The
idealized me. Not the real, the actress
me. What would he do if he knew? Then
I thought: Why should he know? It was
the best thing that had ever happened
to me. I might snatch this happiness
which, at that moment, appeared as an
oasis upon a weary stretch of useless
desert life. I might take this step and
live up to the glorious idealization he had
of me. Why not? I wrestled with these
tormenting thoughts in a silence he could
not understand and one he misinterpreted.
I was seated near the window — looking
out on the sunset across the waters and
thinking — thinking; finally my brain be-
came numb, and I simply sat there like
a marble statue. He came over and stood
before me.
"You don't love me? You couldn't
ever come to care?" His voice was low,
and it hurt me, and wrung the truth from
my heart.
"I do care; that's why I am the most
miserable person in the world. I'm not
what you think I am! I came here from
New York to build up a shattered nerve
system. To substantiate my health to
return to the stage! I'm leading woman
at the New Theatre. You see — you see —
I'm an actress!" I stammered, tumbling
the words Vehemently one over the other.
He never even spoke, but went over to
his desk, sat down, and bowed his head in
his arms. I wasn't sure; I didn't quite
understand. Perhaps the blow staggered
him.
I arose. The sun's rays were slanting
just through the top of the window and
seemed to terminate in one beautiful halo
about his golden brown head. I had to
WHAT A WOMAN KNOWS
659
pass the desk to reach the door. At his
side I halted. It was too much! I could
stand no more. Just for one touch, oh,
one touch of him ! I reached out my hands
and rested them on his head; and these
words slipped my tongue ere I could
bridle them.
"John— dear— dear!"
Then everything reeled and somehow
I quit the room. He did not follow me.
That was yesterday, and I have heard
no word from him since. Tomorrow is
Sunday. How can I go to church? How
can I face him stripped of this deception?
I must slip back into the old shell and
return to New York at once; back to the
lights and laughter; to the gaiety of the
"boards" which once meant the life o'
me, but now means an artificial semblance
of real, good, solid happiness. Who is
this talking? Elizabeth! Do you know?
I have been buried ages and ages agone!
And yet ... have I? Perchance it was
a long sleep and the awakening to true
womanhood has just come.
I would I could answer the row of inter-
rogation marks which confront me; but
they are just so many complex problems
that a fatigued brain and sluggish heart
should have naught to do with. So I shall
seek the arms of Morpheus and bid the
eternal questions and you — good-night.
Sadly yours,
MAXIE.
HAMPTON, VIRGINIA, December 5, 1910.
Darling, Darling! — I have the exhilara-
tion of one who has just made a successful
flight in his new biplane; though it is a
ludicrous comparison since I am lying
here in my bed, propped up by two big
pillows that I may write this to you!
I shall not attempt to answer your
many, consoling and tender replies to
Aunt Janie's notes. But first of all to
congratulate you upon the romantic
little marriage with our manager, and to
assure you of all the good wishes in this
surprised heart o' me!
You sly little rascal! Who would have
believed that you — you, with your baby-
blue eyes and baby mouth could penetrate
old Ironsides' marble heart! I beg pardon?
He is your husband now; I should at least
remember that, but — ah, pshaw! I
haven't the strength to even tease you!
I am quivering so with delight that you
must perceive it by the little tremulos
this pen is making!
One week ago I was in the deepest
regions of Pluto; one hour ago — I was in —
I was about to say, heaven. But I believe
all true lovers call it Paradise. Anyway,
as you comprehend I was very, very near
heaven. Fever and nerves, and worry
in general just played havoc with me for
six days and nights, of which time I was
only partly conscious.
Two hours ago I awakened from a re-
freshing sleep and here in the twilight came
Aunt Janie whispering to me that Mrs.
Stetson had just telephoned to know if
she and her son may come over for a few
minutes to see me. Her son! John!
After a bit Mrs. Stetson and Aunt Janie
withdrew on some pretense or other and
left John and me alone.
He came and knelt at my side. Some-
how I felt all that was in his heart and he
must have understood it, too. I do not
know why, but suddenly the glad rush
that filled me, and shook me to the very
soul — the gladness of his return — just
burst the last iron band about my heart
and the flood gates of endurance opened.
I burrowed my head in his arms as he
held me, and sobbed as if my heart, too,
would burst. I heard him whisper:
"God bless you, little woman. God —
bless — you!" And I felt it was a benedic-
tion straight from heaven that cleansed
my whole life and made me good enough
for him!
We are to be married this spring in
April. Nevermore a return to the old
life; the new life has such a promise of
goodness and happiness I never dreamed
could be mine. But you understand,
darling, as no one else could, what a
draught it is to the thirsty soul o' me. To
be tossed about in the years past on hard-
ship and now to suddenly fall on the down
— the exquisite down of good love — you
understand!
A sheltering home, a protecting husband,
and good love are what every woman needs,
and she knows it, tool
Good-night — I sink to a sweeter sleep
than ever before — for I know the next
day brings — John! MAXIE.
LIBEROY POLE
nstis Maida Fairbrother
VAGUE feeling of unrest was stirring in the
little seaport of "Holmes's Hole." Sober-faced
men passed hurriedly to and fro upon the
crooked main street; housewives, usually staid,
home-keeping bodies, found excuses to run to the nearest
neighbors for prolonged kitchen-door chats; demure girls
escaped the watchful eyes at home and hovered about the
corner store, listening breathlessly to the news that was
handed about, while small boys, braving the terrors of the
master's rod on the morrow, ventured on the edges of the
groups of older boys and men on the dock.
In the harbor, riding at anchor on the sullen, gray sea,
was the cause of the wave of excitement that was sweep-
ing the quiet little town from beach to hills. A British
vessel, with a mast gone, had come silently into the bay
a night or two before. Since then the gold lace of the
officers and the carousing of the crew ashore had been the
topic of village conversation.
The door of the corner store swung open suddenly,
and a tall, sturdy, broad-shouldered youth elbowed his
way through the crowd of chattering
young people.
"John! John Robinson, lad! Hast
come from the wharf ? What news
of the cursed vessel and her crew of
rowdies, now?"
At the question, shouted by the burly
storekeeper, the babel of voices ceased
abruptly and an expectant hush awaited
the lad's reply. His fresh, boyish face
was clouded and he hesitated a moment
before he said:
"My father sent me up to tell thee,
Master Luce, that the captain will not
order his men onboard again; he says
they do no harm, and if—" he frowned
and lowered his voice — "if our women-
folk like not the advances of his officers,
they must keep their girls at home.
Plague on their red coats and finery!"
"Ha, lad, thou dost not fancy the
soft glances that have passed between
that gay young cock, the first officer,
and thy lass, I ween. Take heart, boy,
(660)
THE LIBERTY POLE
661
brass buttons never keep a woman's heart
for long, and Parnell Manter is too —
"Peace, Master Luce, peace, if you love
me " begged the boy, the dull red rising
under the bronze of his cheeks.
"I've taken leave of my senses, I trow.
My father commissioned me also to say
that Sir Bragadoccio has sworn to take
our flagpole for his mast. He says 'twill
take too long to —
"Take our liberty pole for the mast
of yon vessel!" roared the storekeeper,
shaking a huge fist in the direction of the
harbor.
"Is that what ye mean, lad?"
"Hush, hush, Master Luce, I prithee.
My father cautioned me —
The warning came too late. During
the conversation between the storekeeper
and the young man, a murmur had again
begun, but now it swelled to a torrent
of excited voices.
"What said ye, John, lad? Our liberty
pole? — Our flagpole for his mast? — Let him
try! He'll find a warm welcome, I trow —
I'd main like a chance at those infernal
Britishers — Our liberty pole, forsooth!"
The pent-up feeling that had been
simmering for the past few days now burst
forth; excitement ran high, the crowd
increased as a snowball gathers volume,
each newcomer was greeted with in-
coherent explanations and for several
minutes there bade fair to be a riot in the
hitherto sleepy little store. The younger
men were for marching in a body down
to the water's edge, there to shout defiance
at the pompous captain. The older men
shook their heads, paying no heed to the
impetuous suggestions of the boys, but
offering no solution of the problem. Some-
thing must be done and done quickly, for —
Said John Robinson — "My father said
'twas his belief that the men would come
ashore tomorrow to cut down the pole."
"Then must we act at once!" said a
stern-faced man who had listened intently,
but who had not spoken before.
"Friends, will ye meet at my house
tonight? There can we talk without
interruption, but here my head doth spin
in all the clatter."
" 'Twould be well, methinks, to do this,"
responded Welcome Allen. "What think
ye, friends?"
"Aye, 'tis well."
"At seven of the clock, then."
Several hours later the "stately measure"
of the minuet was just coming to an end
in a great room gay with lights and gowns
and the ripple of laughter rising ever and
anon above the music. Rodger Smith
guided his dainty partner to a seat, and
as he picked up her fan he asked mis-
chievously :
"Dost not miss John tonight, Parnell?"
A rose-red flush swept over the girl's
sweet face, but she answered quietly:
"Not more than thou dost miss having
this first dance with Polly Daggett. Thou
art not often beaten in that race, Rodger.
How came it tha't our friend William
captured the prize?"
"I delayed a moment at Master Brad-
ley's to hear if aught had been planned
to save our liberty pole on the morrow.
John was there and 'tis — 'tis not a
secret, Parnell, but I shall tell no one but
thee— "
"And Polly," murmured Parnell.
"Um-m-m. It may be. Thou art
sharp and no mistake. Perchance thou 'It
not care to hear about John? Well, then,
he is to do sentry duty by the pole from
twelve till two tonight — ah, who comes, so
fine?"
A stir at the door announced a late
arrival ; every head was turned expectantly
and the first officer of the British ship
made the effective entrance he had
planned. He was a strikingly handsome
chap, resplendent in his uniform. A
murmur went round, though instantly
hushed, of admiration from the girls but
of decided dislike from the young men.
In the stillness that followed they watched
the newcomer keenly as, smiling and
bowing to those with whom he had some-
how picked up an acquaintance, he went
straight to where demure little Parnell
Manter sat. Saucy Polly Daggett, across
the room, tossed her curly head, but not
from envy. Big, plain Maria Allen looked
worried. The three were bosom friends,
sharing each others' joys and sorrows, and
Polly and Maria did not approve of the
first officer.
Most of the evening the young man
spent at Parnell's side. He danced to
perfection, he laughed and talked gaily
662
THE LIBERTY POLE
and even to those farthest away it was
evident that he was captivated.
"And by Parnell Manter, of all people!"
commented one jealous damsel. "La!
Methinks he must be blind to lose his
heart to such a prim, quiet piece."
"And were some others quieter, they'd
have no need to whistle for a lad, Charity
Look!" flashed Polly Daggett. "If thou
wert more like thy name — "
"Polly, lass, I have aught to say to thee.
Wilt come with me to yonder bench?"
"Thou hast saved me from much dis-
courtesy, Rodger. My wicked temper
doth so often overcome me that I fear
I have a devil, but it grieves me sore to
hear dear Parnell criticized. Yet — '
Rodger, look at yon simpering idiot. See
how he smiles into her very face. How
came Mistress Beetle to bid him here to-
night? There, see! He doth make as if
to take her hand! Oh, is Parnell bereft
of her senses? At least we can be thankful
that John is not here!"
Indeed, Parnell seemed over-excited;
her cheeks were crimson, her eyes shone
like stars and her little hands plucked
nervously at her fan. But could her
censors have seen the burning gaze that
was bent upon her, could they have heard
the words, impetuous though softly
spoken, that were being poured into her
ear, they might have been kinder in their
judgment.
"Why, 'tis folly," laughed the girl
tremulously. "We did first see each other
but three days ago."
"And have scarce three days more to
see each other," groaned the officer.
"Three days! I— I—"
"Thou canst keep a secret, I'll warrant.
Come closer, while I whisper — "
"Rodger, if thou lovest me as thou
sayest, thou 'It bring P.arnell to me.
Quarrel not, if thou canst avoid it, with
yonder coxcomb, but I can no longer —
Ah, 'tis too late, they dance. Oh, I would
that wretched vessel had foundered in
the bay!"
******
The wind blew in from the dark, heaving
ocean with a chill breath. Back and
forth, to and fro, paced the lad on sentry
duty. The night was thick and black,
the feeble glow of his lantern but empha-
sized the darkness round him; in the
harbor the light on the British vessel
moved up and down with the tossing of
the ship. Back and" forth, to and fro,
back and forth. It must be nearly one
o'clock; it seemed hours since he had come
on duty. From twelve to two were the
worst hours, he reflected; Hezikiah Adams
had from two till four, but he was a slender
stripling, not strong and — hist! What
was that? John gripped his gun like a
vise and sent a ringing challenge out into
the night.
"Who goes—"
He stopped in amazement. The quick
patter of feet slackened, the runner came
to a halt. The light from the lantern
that John held high fell upon a slender
form, closely wrapped in a long mantle.
The girl's hair was blown about by the
wind and her breath came heavily.
"Parnell!" ejaculated the sentry slowly.
"Parnell, lass, what—"
He stopped abruptly, caught his breath
and then grasped the girl's shoulder
roughly.
"Parnell Manter, what calls thee from
a warm bed and thy father's house at
this hour o' the night? Parnell, say thou
art not going to meet that devil of an
officer from yonder vessel. Say it, dost
hear?"
The girl wrenched herself violently away.
"Keep thy hand off me, John Robinson!"
she blazed, then more quietly:
"Thou wouldst best be careful what
thou sayest. Think not to presume too
far upon a friendship of long standing.
I go to fetch Goodwife Luce; she is much
skilled in the treating of that grievous
thing, the colick."
"Thy little sister tormented again!
'Tis a most painful ailment, to be sure.
Parnell, thou'lt forgive me? I heeded
not what I was saying — I — but thou must
not go alone, lass! 'Tis a fearsome long
and dark way to Master Luce's; why did
not thy father—"
"Ye forget my father's rheumatism,
John. The dampness of the night air
is most dangerous and, besides, he can
scarce hobble along as fast as I can walk."
"But Parnell, I'll not allow it! 'Tis
too long a way and, aye, dangerous these
few nights past. I would anything I were
THE LIBERTY POLE
663
not here as sentry," groaned the lad, not
the first man hard pressed twixt love and
duty.
"I care not for the dark nor yet the
length, but thou canst run so much faster
than I. Let me stay here as sentry and
do thou haste to Goodman Luce's. See,
John, my cloak doth cover me; give me
thy hat — I will carry thy gun —
let me — oooh! 'tis heavy, is't not?
But see, am I not as good a sentry
as thou?"
She stood clasping the clumsy
gun, John's hat pulled well down
over her fluffy hair, her mantle
wrapped tightly about her. John
stared dumbly for a moment at
the picture within his lantern's
glow, then with a start he came
to himself.
"Let thee stay here, alone, lass?
Thou art mad ! 'Tis dark and cold
and there lurks a danger in the air.
I know not what 'tis, but it hath
made me as uneasy as a good-
wife."
"John, wilt thou not go — for
me?"
John drew a long breath,
go with thee, Parnell! 'Tis
foolish to think there'll be
any man here," he mut-
tered to ease a chiding
conscience.
"Yon Britishers will be
in no haste to leave their
warm quarters to come
ashore a night like this.
Come, lass."
"But, John, if there be no
danger of aught here, do
thou go on; thou'lt do it in
half the time if thou hast
not to wait for my lagging footsteps."
"I like it not, Parnell."
Slowly the girl held out the gun to him.
"Here then; if thou wilt not, I must go."
"Nay, I'll go — " he started but swung
back again.
"Parnell," his voice was husky, "if
aught should come to thee — "
"Thou foolish lad! Run on now, else
will little Becky think me a laggard indeed.
Thou'lt easily be back before 'tis near
for next watch.."
"Yes — Parnell, how comes it thou art
suddenly so brave? Only a week agone
thou dar'st not skip over to thy friend
Polly's after sundown —
"John, wilt thou go?" exclaimed the girl,
half -laughing, half -crying from impatience.
"If ever thou hadst suffered with the
colick thou wouldst — "
La! Methinks he must be blind to lose his heart to such
a prim, quiet piece"
"Take not my head clean from my
shoulders, Parnell! I'll hasten Goodwife
Luce until she thinks the Evil One himself
hath got her in his clutches. Fare ye well."
As the night swallowed him up, the
substitute sentry peered into the darkness
and whispered:
"Art ready? Methought the lad would
never have done. Let us be quick, I
prithee!"
The roar that shattered window-panes
and brought the villagers bolt upright
664
THE LIBERTY POLE
and trembling in their beds reached John
Robinson as he raced along a grass-grown
lane. He pulled himself up, dazed for a
moment, then his senses woke to an
agonized perception.- The British guns,
the pole — Parnell! He tore back over
the distance he had covered, his breath
coming in sobbing gasps, his brain a mad,
reeling chaos of uncompleted thoughts.
"Par-nell! Pa,r-nellJ" he moaned aloud
to the pounding throb of his heart-beats.
He could hear shouting now and a woman's
screams — a woman's screams! He had
betrayed his trust, but that thought was
vague and far away, something to be
reckoned with later. But just ahead of
him a woman had screamed and if that
woman were Parnell — He stumbled into
the melee of noisy men and frightened
women and knocked heavily against a
sturdy figure. The man wheeled angrily,
then clutched at the lad's coat.
"Here he be, now!" he shouted. "A
pretty sentry thou dost make, John
Robinson! Where wast thou when —
"Peace, wait, Thomas! How dost know
but that John heard and was chasing
some of the fiendish redcoats? Speak
up, lad, and tell thy story."
As in a dream John heard the rough
voices, the high-pitched ejaculations of
the few women; dully he watched the
bobbing of the lanterns carried hither
and yon.
"Why— what?" he said stupidly. The
man who held him gave him an impatient
push.
"Art gone daft? Explain what hap-
pened! How came that?" John's glance
followed the pointing finger. On the
ground was a blackened stump and all
about it, bits of wood and splinters
powdered almost into dust.
"Didst hear the shell coming, lad?
'Twas God's mercy thou wast not killed,"
said Elder Adams feelingly. "How came
it that thou hadst moved away just at
that time? Hadst been there, methinks
thou wouldst have been blown into pieces."
The black night turned red and green
and all darting fire before John's eyes.
Blown to pieces! Then where — he reeled,
but at that moment a shrill voice pene-
trated the mist closing round him —
"For the love of Heaven, masters, hast
seen my Parnell? I did go to call her but
now, and her bed has not been slept in!"
The red and green and darting fire went
out suddenly, and the blackness of ever-
lasting night came on.
******
The meeting-house was filled to the
doors, the men occupying the main body
of the church, the women in the rear seats
and in the gallery. Not a whisper, not
a rustle was to be heard, a tense silence
reigned. Never, in the memory of the
oldest there, had such a proceeding taken
place in the quiet little town. Even the
babies seemed awed by the grave faces
and hushed their whimperings.
At the extreme front of the building
there were seated before the high pulpit
Elder Adams and an imposing array of
church dignitaries, "the butcher, the baker,
the candle-stick maker" in the ordinary
walk of life, but this morning personages
important and to be feared. In the gather-
ing were haggard faces and heavy eyes;
the shock of the early morning had been
an unaccustomed one and the mystery
of the affair was a strain on the nerves.
Then, too, their very presence was for a
hard duty; one of their number, a bright,
well-loved boy had deserted his post, and
worse, could or would give no light upon
the affair. He sat now, a little apart from
everyone, head bent, eyes fixed doggedly
upon the floor. Many were the curious
glances turned on him and passing on,
rested pityingly on his father, a proud-
spirited man whose heart had been bound
up in his only son. His self-control was
no less perfect than his boy's, but the look
on his face was not pleasant to see.
All night young John Robinson had
walked his room. He had been carried
home in a semi-conscious state; his mother,
sternly ordered to "leave the boy alone,"
had gone weeping and uncomprehending,
back to bed ; his father had left him roughly
enough, but there was no sleep in the house
of Robinson that night. Gradually the
lad's brain had cleared, and as he paced
feverishly up and down, the horror of the
situation dawned upon him. Better that
his first fearful conclusion had been true;
better almost that he should have been
Parnell Manter's murderer, as he had be-
lieved; better that her slim young body
THE LIBERTY POLE
665
should have been blown to atoms — better
anything than this! Becky Manter had
had no colic, Parnell was not on the way
to Master Luce's; the gay young officer
had warned her of the shell that was to be
fired upon the town and alack a day, his
dark eyes and tender smile had done what
he, John, could not accomplish — they had
won the girl's heart. When his mother
called him to a breakfast that he made no
pretence of swallowing, he heard them
say that the British vessel, disabled as
she was, had slipped away sometime during
the night and he knew, though they kindly
forbore to tell him, that she carried Parnell
Manter on board. As he sat now, counting
the cracks in the meeting-house floor,
one hurt burned deep into the lad's heart —
"The lass lied to me. She that hated false-
hood lied to me!"
He became aware that Elder Adams
was speaking, in a deep, sorrowful voice.
From snatches now and then he knew
that the affair of the night was being dis-
cussed; he caught the words, "sentry,
desertion, honest lad, painful duty," and
he wondered dully what would be done to
him. Betrayal of one's trust was punished
bitterly in those days.
"John Robinson, stand up!"
Once on his feet, he saw dimly the sea
of awestruck faces, blurred and faraway.
"John Robinson, last night from the
hour of twelve until two, ye were stationed
as sentry in front of our liberty pole. At
a quarter after one a shell was fired from
the ship that was in our harbor, demolish-
ing the pole. When the men of the town
had gathered ye were missing from the
post of duty. Since then ye have refused
to offer explanation, therefore it becomes
the duty of this council — ' and so 'on
until suddenly the elder rapped out a
question like a pistol-shot.
"John Robinson, why wast thou not
at thy post when Welcome Allen, he being
the fleetest of foot among us, reached the
site of the liberty pole this morning?"
John Robinson threw back his head
and calmly met the elder's stern gaze.
"I will not tell," he said.
A horrified gasp greeted this. To openly
defy the elder and the members of council!
Betrayal of one's trust was bad enough,
but this, sure, meant damnation.
The elder glared angrily at his flock,
then spoke again.
"John Robinson, once more I charge
thee, why wast thou not at thy post this
morning?"
"I will not tell."
An angry murmur, swelling louder and
louder, came from the gathering.
"Peace, order, I say!" shouted the elder;
he leaned further over his pulpit, his
voice shook a trifle:
"John, lad, have no fear. Speak up
like the man ye are. Why did ye leave the
pole?"
John Robinson turned ever so slightly
toward the elder, the dogged expression
faded a bit from his face. Breathless, the
people leaned forward to catch his first
word.
"I cannot tell, Elder," the boy said
simply.
A long disappointed sigh swept over the
crowd, and on its heels came a stir at the
back of the church. Three girls, Polly
Daggett, Maria Allen and Parnell Manter,
were moving swiftly up the aisle. The
Elder frowned and the members of council
stirred uneasily. Had no one taught the
girls how unseemly 'twas for women to
make a show of themselves? Mercy on
us! What were the girls about? Would
no one stop them? What — one of them
was speaking, speaking in the meeting-
house and to the Elder! Now let the heavens
fall!
A slender girl she was who was speak-
ing, in a clear, steady voice.
"Elder Adams, full well we know 'tis
not the custom —
"Look, look at John Robinson! What
ails the lad?" shrilled a woman excitedly,
then collapsed into her seat. She, too,
had "spoken out in meeting."
At her words every one craned and
stretched to catch a glimpse of John
Robinson again. He stood, with staring
eyes and open mouth, steadying himself
against a chair-back.
The clear voice rose again: "We know
well 'tis not the custom for women to be
heard in meeting, but what we have to say
concerns the honor of another, and there-
fore we seek thy gracious consent and that
of the council, to proceed."
Away back in the meeting-house a little
666
THE LIBERTY POLE
woman whispered in amazement — "My
Parnell, as bashful as the lass is, to speak
like this! Whatever can have come to
the girl?"
Elder Adams having given a dazed
consent, Parnell went swiftly on.
"Last night, some of us were bid to
Mistress Beetle's to a ball. Before the
evening was far spent, there arrived an-
other guest, the — the first officer of the
vessel that hath quitted our harbor so
short a time ago."
A murmur that was scarcely more than
a breath stirred somewhere in the gallery.
Polly Daggett's eyes flashed fire and
Maria Allen's square chin settled itself
sternly. Parnell's voice sank for a mo-
ment, but rose again, clearer than before,
though the tell-tale red fluttered in her
cheeks and the fair head was held a trifle
higher.
"He paid me some courteous attention
and confided to me a secret, that the crew
of his vessel were under orders to land at
four this morn, to hew down our liberty
pole."
This time the hum of voices could not
for the moment be quelled, but when the
girl raised her hand appealingly there fell
the hush of the tomb.
"I kndw not what to do. The officer —
he — talked of many things and I found
much difficulty in getting a moment's
whisper with my two friends here. I fear
I did dissemble, but I was forced at length
to step upon the flounces of my gown and
I tore it most grievous, but it afforded us
a chance to talk, as Mistress Beetle did
kindly offer us the privacy of another room
in the which to repair my gown. We were
greatly distracted and knew not what to
do; we desired not to spread an alarm
and so break up the enjoyment. At
length Polly Daggett did burst forth
with a plan; I was much terrified at first
and would fain have given up all part in
it but that I had not the heart to let Maria
and Polly call me coward. We did excuse
ourselves to Mistress Beetle and on our
way home did make our plans. We had
much ado to 'scape the escort of two
anxious youths — methinks they feared
me for a witch that I did sprite away my
friends so suddenly."
A smothered laugh greeted this sally,
and Rodger Smith and James Tilton
turned crimson in a second.
"At fifteen minutes before the hour of
one I crept most carefully adown the
stairs and from the house. At our front
gate were Polly Daggett and Maria Allen;
the night was fearsome dark and we
hastened at once to the liberty pole. At
the corner, my friends did stop and I ran
on alone; John Robinson was stationed
there as sentry and I — I did tell him a most
vexatious falsehood. I said — nay, I let
him think that my little sister Becky had
the colick and that I was on my way to
Goodman Luce's to implore Mistress
Luce's aid."
Another laugh interrupted her, but it
died as quickly as it rose.
"John was much distressed at my going
alone on so dark a night. He would not
desert his post and still he would not
have me venture on alone. Forsooth,
Elder, the lad was so blown about he
knew not which way to turn. And all
the time Polly and Maria were waiting
on the corner but a few feet away. At
length, I feel much shame to tell it— I
made feint of going on because my little
sister was so tormented."
The penitent tone and the drooping
head were irresistible and even the Elder
smiled.
"I think ye may be forgiven, Parnell,"
he said, "Go on."
" Tis a tiresome tale, Elder, but after
much argument I did persuade the lad
to leave me as sentry in his place — my
mantle did cover me to my toes — I took
his gun and — "
A roar of laughter, the result of re-
action and the relief to strained nerves,
startled the girl.
"Why," she protested in an injured
tone, "I made a proper sentry, I do assure
thee. When Master John was safely out
of the way I called the girls and — there
remains but little more — we vowed that
the boastful British Captain should never
have our pole, Elder, so we blew ilfup."
"Ye blew up the pole!"
No pounding or shouting could still the
tumult now. Men cheered, women wept
and laughed and all the time the Elder,
purple of face, hammered on his pulpit
and added his shouting to the rest. Some
THERE ARE LOYAL HEARTS
667
detail-loving person recollected suddenly
that the whole of the story had not been
told, and the plea for silence passed from
mouth to mouth until the stillness became
tense again.
"Ye say ye blew up the pole, child, ye
three girls?" asked Elder Adams hoarsely.
"Nay, Elder, 'twas a mistake. Polly
Daggett did bring the powder and Maria
here did set it off. My silly heart failed
me and I proved but a coward after all.
We did run as fast as our limbs could
carry us and when the mighty noise did
come I was all but turning in at our gate.
I had not ceased trembling when my poor
mother came home at dawn. I thought
not of the distraction I was causing her,
Elder, but—"
"Our liberty pole was saved! The
British had it not! Three cheers for Polly
Daggett and Maria Allen and Parnell
Manter!"
Rodger Smith was dancing wildly on a
seat well to the front and as he shouted,
all in the building sprang to their feet.
Cheer after cheer went up. It would have
been madness to have attempted to stop
the mad joy. Men clapped each other on
the back, women kissed and cried and the
dignified members of council were rudely
pushed and crowded as they endeavored
to keep a protecting circle around a little
group.
"Three cheers for John Robinson, the
bravest lad on the coast! Now, friends!"
Again and again they shouted; the few
who were kept away from the meeting
by household duties or necessary tasks
heard the uproar and wondered if all the
world were going mad.
Under cover of the wild confusion, John
Robinson bent over Parnell Manter.
"Art grieving for thine officer, Parnell?"
he asked soberly, though a twinkle lit
his gray eyes. "Methinks if he could see
thee now, he'd much regret his sudden
departure."
Parnell stamped her foot.
"A plague take all British officers!"
she cried vehemently. "Wilt never speak
for thyself, John?"
In the tender curve of an island coast,
just off Cape Cod, there nestles a little
town. It is no longer a sleepy village nor
is it now known as "Holmes's Hole,"
but should you walk up its main street
some fine day, you would have pointed
out to you a tall white pole. At its top
nutters "Old Glory"; nearly three-quarters
of the way down is a bronze tablet to the
memory of three brave girls, Polly Daggett,
Maria Allen and Parnell Manter.
THERE ARE LOYAL HEARTS
By MADELINE S. BRIDGES
""THERE are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave,
* There are souls that are pure and true;
Then give to the world the best you have,
And the best shall come back to you.
Give love, and love to your heart will flow,
A strength in your utmost need;
Have faith, and a score of hearts will show
Their faith in your word and deed.
For life is the mirror of king and slave.
Tis just what you are and do;
Then give to the world the best you have,
And the best will come back to you.
— From the book "Heart Throbs."
Serious Aspect of German $ota$f) Contracts
By W. C. JENKINS
UST at this time when
the people of the
United States have
become deeply inter-
ested in soil fertility
and forest conserva-
tion, a condition has
arisen which has
dampened the ardor
of a great many people who were enthusi-
astic advocates of proper crop rotation and
the use of manures and commercial fertil-
izers as a means whereby the average
yield of grain in this country might be
materially increased. This condition has
been brought about by the invalidation
of the American potash contracts by the
German government.
The American interests affected by
the German potash law are so extensive
that it is perhaps not strange that general
concern is manifested by the people of
this country who are familiar with the
facts. The interests affected involve
at least a half billion dollars of capital
invested in the manufacture of fertilizers,
chemicals and explosives, besides the
livelihood of several million farmers and
indirect consequences to every citizen
of the United States.
Potash salts, in their natural state, are
found principally in Germany where
they exist in practically inexhaustible
deposits. They are also known to exist
in large quantities in Austria, and in China,
Persia, Peru and to some extent in the
United States. The United States Depart-
ment of Agriculture is at the present time
securing data on the American deposits
and is also demonstrating the feasibility
of extracting potash from feldspar rocks
through a patented process discovered
by a government official and donated to
the American people. Development of
the industry outside of Germany will
be stimulated as a consequence of the
extraordinary attitude of the German
mine owners in securing the recent pas-
sage of a drastic potash law.
Nearly sixty years ago the Prussian
government began boring for rock salt
and at a depth of 1,080 feet found it in
immense quantities at Stassfurt near the
Harz mountains. Above the rock salt
are large deposits of various minerals at
first thrown away as valueless but later
utilized to supply the world with potash.
The agricultural value of potash was
demonstrated in 1860, and in 1861 the
first factory for refining crude potash
minerals was established at Stassfurt.
Since that time the industry of mining
potash salts has grown to enormous pro-
portions until today there are seventy-one
German potash mines in operation. Not-
withstanding the fact that the present
capacity of the mines is three times the
present world's consumption, it is stated
that nearly fifty additional mines are in
process of development. The United
States uses about sixty per cent of the
amount exported and thirty per cent of
the entire production of the mines.
The policy of the potash trust is to
ask high prices for its products, thus stimu-
lating the development of new mines.
Twenty mines could easily supply the
world's demand for a number of years.
The mines are now working on an average
of six hours a day and the syndicate is
again advancing prices, still further defy-
ing well-known business laws.
Viewed from an agricultural stand-
point the discovery of these inexhaustible
accumulations of potash was one of the
greatest blessings of the Nineteenth Cen-
tury. The process by which nature made
this accumulation possible is truly marvel-
ous; and ingenious man has added con-
siderable interest to the discovery by
methods which he has devised to utilize
and convert the product of the potash
mines into some of the most useful and
valuable necessities in our civilization.
(668)
SERIOUS ASPECT OF GERMAN POTASH CONTRACTS
669
The potash beds of Germany were
formed in ancient geologic times long
before history began. These minerals
were deposited as a consequence of the
evaporation of sea water confined in lakes
which, like the Dead Sea and our own
Salt Lake, were without outlet. They
were connected, however, with the ocean
by dry channels through which the sea
water was occasionally forced by great
storms and tides, and fresh supplies were
thus forced into the lakes and, as the
climate was tropical during the formative
period, the surface evaporation was rapid.
As evaporation carries off only pure water,
so in course of time those salts least soluble
in water began to separate from the
soluble ones and deposit themselves in
more or less uniform strata until immense
layers of rock salt and other minerals
were formed.
For the past twenty-five years the
owners of these German potash mines
have maintained a close monopoly of
the product by means of the "German
Kali Syndikat," which has usually been
formed for five-year periods, the last of
which expired by limitation on midnight,
June 30, 1909. This syndicate has been
able to control not only production but
to fix prices in all the markets of the
world. The present syndicate was formed
on July 1, 1909, but between the expira-
tion of the old and the formation of the
new organization there was an interim of
a few hours during which time Robert
S. Bradley, representing prominent Ameri-
can fertilizer manufacturers, made large
contracts with individual mines for a
seven-year period at prices averaging about
thirty per cent below those of the syndicate.
There was a general opinion that the
syndicate was broken. The government
group of mines was negotiating with the
Americans, and the Aschersleben and
Sollstedt mines were more than anxious
to effect the seven-year contract with
Mr. Bradley. The latter, it must be
admitted, was taking considerable risk
in the transaction because of the possibility
of prices going still lower following the
dissolution of the syndicate.
Much to the surprise of the parties
to the seven-year agreement, a new syndi-
cate was unexpectedly formed on July 1,
1909, and within a few hours after the
consummation of the Bradley contract.
The Germans, thoroughly alarmed over
the possibility of being unable to further
maintain syndicate prices the world over,
and especially in the United States, began
to devise means whereby the Bradley
contract might be broken. The result
of their planning was a threat that the
German government would impose an
export duty upon potash unless the con-
tracts were surrendered.
Notwithstanding the threat of export
duties the Aschersleben and Sollstedt
mines, controlled by the Schmidtmann
interests, remained out of the syndicate,
and in the following September sixty-five
other American manufacturers who held
contracts for potash made in 1906 and
1907 — running to 1917 — secured modified
agreements in accordance with these
contracts so as to conform to the Bradley
contracts. It was plain to the syndicate
that the trade of the United States had
been lost, and in December the threat of
governmental interference was carried
out by the introduction of a bill in the
Bundesrath which would, in effect, con-
stitute a governmental repudiation of the
contracts, thereby invalidating the agree-
ments.
There was an intentional delay in the
passage of the bill in order to permit
representatives of the syndicate, who
had been sent to the United States, to
effect a compromise with the American
manufacturers, if possible. Their de-
mands, however, were so unreasonable
that the Americans refused to consider
them. In turn the fertilizer manufacturers
of this country proposed to meet the
Germans half-way and divide the twenty-
five million dollars then involved, thus
offering to surrender $12,500,000 to the
syndicate. This offer was rejected, and
negotiations ceased.
As the matter not only concerned the
American fertilizer manufacturers but
the collective body of the people of the
United States, the case was then laid
before the State Department at Wash-
ington in the hope that a diplomatic
appeal would protect the American citizens
in their contract rights with a foreign
government. Following a,n emphatic pro-
670
SERIOUS ASPECT OF GERMAN POTASH CONTRACTS
test to the Imperial Government of
Germany, through the American Embassy
in Berlin, the bill was withdrawn. It
was supposed that the whole matter had
been settled, and in the most friendly
spirit the commercial treaty between
the United States and Germany was
soon thereafter consummated, one of the
provisions being that Germany should
be given the benefit of the minimum tariff
of the Payne-Aldrich Tariff Act.
In May, 1910, the Imperial Government
of Germany passed a potash law which
in effect is more injurious to the Americans
than the bill previously withdrawn. The
new law imposes a penalty tax of twenty-
two dollars a ton on muriate of potash
production of any mine in excess of the
quota allotted to it by the government.
The result was that the Americans were
compelled to pay thirty-seven dollars
per ton at the mines for muriate of potash
instead of fifteen dollars, the price agreed
upon with the mine owners.
In fixing the quota for each mine there
was a discrimination in favor of the
syndicate mines, their privileged output,
without being subjected to the penalty
tax, being large enough to supply the
entire trade of the world, while the
allotments to the independent mines
were limited to one-fourth to one-sixth
of their sales to the Americans. The
independent mines having sold their
entire production to the Americans and
none to the people of other nations, it is
manifest that the law was aimed entirely
at the fertilizer manufactures of this
country and with the evident purpose of
invalidating the American contracts made
ten months before the law was passed,
and in pursuance of a previous threat to
this effect unless the contracts were
surrendered. The ultimate effect has been
to establish a monopoly and to maintain
syndicate prices in the United States.
During the seven-year contract period
the penalty tax would aggregate about
forty million dollars. This amount would
be paid to the German government by
the people of the United States, while
Germany would not derive a dollar from
the citizens of other countries as a result
of its exportation of potash. In view of
these facts, plainly stated, it is difficult
to conceive what the German Foreign
Minister meant when he assured Am-
bassador Hill that the law would not affect
or impair the American contracts.
Naturally the action of the Imperial
Government of Germany caused much
criticism in the United States, and, on
the invitation of the German government,
a committee of the American manu-
facturers went to Berlin last September,
accompanied by Mr. M. H. Davis of the
Department of State, to effect, if possible,
a satisfactory settlement of the matters
in dispute. Ambassador Hill co-operated
with the American committee but was
unable to receive any proposal from the
German government or the "Kali Syndi-
kat," and finally the committee repeated
the "half-way" proposition made in New
York the early part of the year. This
was again rejected by the Germans, and
as no counter proposition was made
the Americans, concluding that their
efforts were fruitless, returned to the United
States, the Department of State again tak-
ing the matter up officially. The question
now comes before the United States govern-
ment in this form: — Do the conditions
which led to the proclamation granting
to Germany the minimum tariff any longer
exist? Eminent counsel in the United
States maintain that Germany has de-
liberately changed the conditions under
which she secured the minimum tariff
concession.
Warren, Garfield, Whiteside, and Lam-
son, of Boston, have given an opinion
which states: — "The President of the
United States, acting under authority
of the Tariff Acts of August 5, 1909, has
by proclamation put into effect the mini-
mum tariff upon goods imported into this
country from Germany. At the time
that the minimum tariff was so proclaimed
the Act of the German Government of
May 10, 1910, above referred to, had not
been passed, and its enactment so affects
the situation that in our opinion the condi-
tions which led to the issuance of the
proclamation of the minimum tariff no
longer exist, and a proclamation should
now issue, imposing the maximum tariff
upon all goods imported from Germany
to this country.
John S. Miller, of Chicago, has written
SERIOUS ASPECT OF GERMAN POTASH CONTRACTS
671
the following opinion: — "In my opinion,
by reason of the passage of this potash
law and the action of the German Govern-
ment in applying and enforcing it up to
this time, to the prejudice of such Ameri-
can holders of such existing contracts,
which were made before the passage of
the act by potash mines made subject
to the act, and which contracts exist
only with such American manufacturers
and purchasers — the conditions which led
to the issuance of the proclamation of
the President admitting articles imported
from Germany under the terms of the
Minimum Tariff, no longer exist."
John G. Johnson, of Philadelphia, has
given a written opinion from which the
two closing paragraphs are quoted, as
follows: — "Can it be that when this
Government is confronted with the fact
that the German Government, designing
to destroy contracts which citizens of
the United States had entered into,
enacted legislation which affected this
design and thus necessarily put them at
a disadvantage, it can properly protect
its citizens otherwise than by subjecting
Germany to the maximum tariff?
"In my opinion, a changed condition
now exists, such as imposes upon the
President of the United States the duty
of issuing a proclamation which, within
ninety days thereafter, will apply to the
importation of articles from Germany
the provisions of the maximum tariff."
Germany claims that the potash law
was enacted for the purpose of conserv-
ing the natural resources of the nation.
This claim, however, does not harmonize
with the statement sent out by the Ger-
man Kali-Works, the American, selling
agency of the syndicate mines, that
"this law does not aim to restrict the
production of potash, but on the contrary
expressly seeks to increase it." Neither
is it consistent with the claim of German
mining experts who have pronounced the
Kali deposits of Germany as practically
inexhaustible.
The potash controversy is being watched
with keen interest throughout Europe
and the United States. This country,
to say the least, is placed in a very delicate
position. Its desire to promote friendly
trade relations with foreign countries
is a matter of worldwide knowledge; but
it cannot, in justice to its citizens, refuse
to take cognizance of discriminative legisla-
tion or the repudiation of international
contracts. Therefore the Department
of State at Washington is insisting upon
the recognition of the sanctity of these
potash contracts and is maintaining that,
having been entered into in good faith
by all parties, they should not be invalidated
nor in any way impaired by a law passed
ten months after the contracts were signed.
Germany, through its paternal form of
government, has departed from the system
of unbridled competition so conspicuous
in the commercial activity of the United
States. The Germans assert that it is
better for the people as a whole to permit
small manufacturing concerns to make
price agreements with their larger com-
petitors, as such agreements tend to build
up the smaller manufacturers, diffuse the
employment of labor and prevent the devel-
opment of overgrown corporations. In their
stead they have enormous trusts, greedy
and daring. The various state govern-
ments of Germany, through their legisla-
tures and executive department, control,
in the interest of the ultimate consumer,
the price paid by the Germans. There
is, however, no limit to the prices which
may be charged the people of other coun-
tries.
Germany also protects the health of
its people through stringent laws which
control the manufacture and sale of food
products, but is not so particular about
food and beverages shipped to other
nation^.
The policy of the United States is
different. Laws have been enacted in
this country which stimulate competition
between the larger and smaller companies
by forbidding reasonable price agree-
ments. The effect is that the smaller
companies are often demoralized and
forced out of business or are forced to
sell to their larger competitors, thus forc-
ing the various industries into the control
of large corporations and defeating the
object of the law. In international trade
the two systems occasionally clash, and
they are now in collision over potash
and other articles. The Germans are
endeavoring to crush competition and
672
SERIOUS ASPECT OF GERMAN POTASH CONTRACTS
have extended their system to the United
States by the formation in this country
of the German Kali Works, an American
corporation but owned by the "German
Kali Syndikat," the control of which is
centered in the Prussian and Anhalter
government-owned mines. The German
potash law penalizes the two independent
anti-syndicate mines and the American
contractors about six million dollars a
year for seven years, while the mines of
the "German Kali Syndikat" are not
exposed to this penalty tax, nor are the
citizens of any other country affected
by any such charges.
The total cost to the Americans is
forty-two dollars per ton delivered in the
United States. The German-owned
American syndicate has been quoting
thirty-six dollars to thirty-eight dollars,
apparently with the idea of forcing a
surrender of the advantages gained by
the Americans. The company is also
actively engaged in a campaign among
the farmers and others, the evident object
of which is to prevent any action by the
President under section two of the Payne-
Aldrich Act. Thus the German syndicate,
of which the Prussian and Anhalter govern-
ments are members, are endeavoring
to influence American political and dip-
lomatic action.
It would be a mistake to suppose that
the American fertilizer manufacturers alone
are interested in this controversy. The
numerous by-products obtained in refining
crude potash salts are utilized for many
purposes. Some of them contain twenty
to thirty per cent actual potash. Besides
the agricultural, plant-feeding use of
potash salts, large quantities are used
by the chemical industry of the United
States in the manufacture of carbonate
of potash, caustic potash, nitrate of
potash, chlorate of potash and bichromate
of potash, alum, cyanide of potash and
other compounds. Many trades use
potash in one form or another. It is used
by doctors, photographers, dyers, painters,
weavers, bleachers, soap-makers and
electricians. The manufacture of fire-
works, gunpowder, matches, paper, glass
and the extraction of gold from its ores
would be impossible without it. Hence
these potash contracts are of more than
ordinary importance to the American
people.
The question is not a political one;
neither is it in any sense sectional. It
concerns the collective body of the Ameri-
can people and the administration should
be supported in its efforts to command
international respect for contracts made
with citizens of the United States. The
enforcement of these potash contracts
will be of distinct benefit to rich and poor
alike.
What will be the outcome of the present
situation? Will Germany win out, as
she has done heretofore, or will the United
States government take a strong posi-
tion, and by so doing stop the trick law
methods of discrimination practiced by
foreign governments against the com-
mercial interests of the United States?
The German government works solely
for the Germans. Its methods are
thorough; it bides its time; is patient,
diligent, daring, greedy. It is thoroughly
informed as to the political situations
existing in foreign countries. It measures
accurately the inertia, the tolerance, the
peace-loving tendencies of the American
people. It knows how to stir up the
mollycoddlers — how to throw dust into
the eyes of the general public — how to
enlist the aid of men who admire adroit
methods, and how to tire its opponents.
It knows the American people are "easy"
unless aroused. It sees the American
traveler leave a trail of gold as he meanders
over the Fatherland paying double prices
for his desires and enriching by foolish
fees the porter and the kellner. So it
taxes the American farmers the price of
a battleship a year. Will Germany get it?
THE MOTE IN HIS EYE
Henry L' Kiner
LHE clock had just chimed
half -past nine and Billson
arose to go, which was his
invariable custom. With
a good deal of hesitation,
he stepped to Annie's cor-
ner, and diffidently asked
permission to examine the
motto she had been mak-
ing during the evening.
"Annie does these things with some
taste," said Rector John, grabbing the
card from his daughter's lap, and holding
it aloft, at arm's length, to fit the focus of
his spectacles. " 'What Is Home With-
out a Mother?' " read Rector John ad-
miringly.
Barnaby Billson, admiring the motto
with face illumined, murmured something
about the sentiment being as pretty as
the yarn. Then he looked at Annie, as
much, as to say: "But neither sentiment
or yarn is as pretty as the maker." Rector
John, blundering and butting about, got
between them, and delivered himself of
the opinion that fathers have something
to do with founding a home. Why didn't
sentimental females work a motto that
reads: "What Is Home Without a
Father?"
"Somehow it doesn't sagashiate right,"
said Billson, whose ideas were often vague
as a driving cloud; but which, like the
lightning-loaded cloud, sometimes con-
tained a shot that hit the mark. "It's
all hunky to make a motto read, 'God
Bless Our Home.' But ye never see one
that reads, 'God Bless Our Boarding House.'
Wouldn't sagashiate right. See?"
*******
"There, she's coming." Billson, hust-
ling home -from Rector John's, looked up
at the tempest-tossed clouds, as a par-
ticularly powerful gust grabbed at him
from the dark. The gust was dust-laden.
Something went into Billson's eye.
"Drat it!" exclaimed Billson, gouging
at his eye with his thumb. "Sand, I
suppose. Feels big as a hunk of gravel."
When Billson went to bed, the foreign
substance was still in his eye. He had
tried various expedients without avail,
such as rolling up the lid on a pencil, and
putting flaxseed in. He had also washed
the eye with copious libations of water.
The thing stubbornly stuck. Tears
streamed from the eye. They did not
wash out the substance.
The eye pained Billson so much that he
lost much sleep. In the morning, the eye
was inflamed and red, contrasting strongly
with Billson's other haggard features.
He turned from the looking-glass, and
glanced discontentedly from the window.
The thunder gust had blown over, without
rain.
"It's gone Foraker's way, and saved
his hay," muttered Billson audibly. For-
aker was a young neighboring farmer.
"Gosh, that's a rhyme," he grumbled, as
he gathered his clothes. "Wonder if I
can make another? It's bad for my corn,
as sure as you're born. That's another
rhyme. Ah-h-h, it's so easy to rhyme.
Nothin' to it. A small speck of dirt
causes eyeballs to hurt. I hope I'll get
through this day without seeing that
senseless and sapless old salamander,
Rector John. Why doesn't he make
himself scarce, so's a fellow can have a
word with Annie? Bumped in last night.
'What Is Home Without a Father?'
Humph, a place to have a good time in,
I should say, if the fathers are like Rector
John. Wonder if I can manage to spill
him the next time I get him up behind
Flying Childers? If I could bu'st a few
of his bones, and lay him up, I could make
good with Annie."
Talking thus to himself, Billson finished
dressing, and went out to do his chores.
The wind had upset a strawstack, and a
sow and her swarm were absent. Billson
forked frantically at the billowy ruin, and
(673)
674
THE MOTE IN HIS EYE
rescued the mother and family in a state
of exhaustion. Billson was exhausted
himself. He sat on a hummock of straw,
and regarded the reeling pigs he had just
released with a disconsolate gaze.
The violent exertion had set his blood
thumping at his temples. He felt that
his face was aflame. The eye was throb-
bing with pain.
"Good-morning, friend Billson." It was
the voice of Rector John.
"Oh, go to " Billson might have said
something unhallowed; but at that mo-
ment he caught a glimpse of a fluttering
red frock just beyond where Rector
John's fat face filled a hole in the hedge.
He deferred to the frock. He cut it off
short, and sat staring through the hole in
the hedge, trying to see past Rector John.
"Friend Billson, you have a bad eye
this morning."
Billson, finding it vain to see past the
big round face of the Rector, arose and
drifted lumberingly to the hedge, like a
derelict.
"Something was blown into it last night,"
explained Billson. "Good-morning, An-
nie," he added, craning slightly and side-
stepping to catch a glimpse of her.
Rector John thereupon consumed a
quarter of an hour with a long and cir-
cumstantial account of how he once got
a timothy seed in his eye, which he could
not get rid of for so long a time that it
began to sprout and grow. Finally, when
the sprout grew long enough to make a
handle, he had got hold of it with a pair
of tweezers, and removed it.
"That was an expensive timothy seed,"
concluded Rector John. "Surgeons, doc-
tors, medicine and all told, it cost me
about $7.40."
Annie had drifted away down the hedge
in the direction of home, and was loiter-
ing and waiting, plucking leaves, and
gathering the petals of wild roses, which
strewed the ground, after last night's
wind.
Billson yawned.
"Perhaps," said he drearily, "this may
be a seed of some sort. I'd look deuced
odd, going round with a young tree stick-
ing out of my eye," he added, laughing
a little, and wanting to get away. Bill-
son's knowledge of botany was limited.
Rector John responded with a per-
functory smile.
With some parting cautions against
catching cold, Rector John went on after
Annie.
"I have my suspicions," he puffed as
he came up with her, "that Billson stopped
in a saloon on his way home last night."
"Why, papa!" Annie was horror-stricken.
"I caught a suspicious whiff of his
breath," Rector John went 'on. "It
smelled like liquor." Billson had suffused
his eye with diluted alcohol and witch-
hazel.
"Ugly, cross-grained, awful eye," went
on the rector.
"Many persons are petulant early in the
morning," said Annie tentatively. "Then,
your eye did not appear very presentable
when it harbored the timothy seed, did
it?" There was just a suggestion of mis-
chief in her face. Rector John, regard-
ing her obliquely, saw that she was count-
ing the leaves on a locust twig: "He loves
me, he loves me not." She formed the
words with her lips. The last leaf at the
apex was "he loves me." She seemed
pleased.
"If I were sure that he drank, though
ever so little, he would never again be
welcomed at the rectory. I would never
ride with him again," said Rector John
emphatically.
He then lectured Annie upon temper-
ance till they reached the rectory door.
"Oh, dear," said Annie, flinging her
little straw hat on the piano, "papa proses
so."
Billson's eye grew worse that day. He
worked hard about the farm, and drove
Flying Childers furiously about the leafy
lanes in the early evening. These di-
versions distracted his mind from the pain;
but as the later evening gloomed along the
land, he became apprehensive of the long
painful night before him. He concluded
to make the loneliness of the night as
brief as possible, by spending an hour or
two at the rectory. He turned Flying
Childers, reeking and palpitating, in that
direction.
"I never seem to sagashiate right at the
rectory," growled Billson. He was tying
Childers to the accustomed post, when
Rector John came into view. Billson was
THE MOTE IN HIS EYE
675
not overjoyed to see the moonfaced man. "ahs" and "urns," accompanied by shak-
He had hoped to hear that he was in his ings of the head.
study, preparing the customary weekly Billson sat down, and looked about for
portion of torment for fallen man. Annie. She was not visible. To his ex-
Irritated and filled with repugnance, treme disgust, Rector John set off in a
Billson viewed the rector's approach, long diatribe against the sin of profanity.
'There was just a suggestion of mischief in her face"
Childers, nervous and champing his bits,
relieved his red nostrils, dilated like bird's
nests, by a bugle blast. Billson said,
"Blast it," and Rector John halted in
horror.
"Do my ears deceive me?" exclaimed
the man of piety.
"No, I don't know as they did," growled
Billson. He was getting busy with a
handkerchief.
The two men walked to the house to-
gether, Billson still busy with the handker-
chief, and the rector gasping out pious
"Savages do not swear, nor do the
animals," said Rector John, at the con-
clusion of a quarter of an hour's harangue.
Just then a pair of cats outside the open
window by which Rector John sat, put up
the most terrific vocal turbulence that
mortal ears are called upon to endure.
For height and depth, for grief, and rage,
and despair, and horror, and a wild desire
to rend reeking flesh asunder, all concen-
trated into two voices, in intense rivalry,
the life of each depending upon the out-
doing of the other, these felines displayed
676
THE MOTE IN HIS EYE
a fearful fluency, beyond all earthly com-
parison.
"Drat the cats!" exclaimed Rector
John, entirely forgetting his lecture and
himself, and leaping to his feet in a frenzy.
"If that isn't swearing, it is the best
substitute for it I ever heard," said Bill-
son.
"Do you have reference to what I said?"
demanded Rector John.
"Naw," said Billson, "to what the cats
said."
"I can't endure it," said Rector John,
mopping his fat face. "It really does
sound like swearing."
The rector thereupon ran from the room,
and Billson heard him scraping about in
the dark of the yard, in search for some
weapon.
"Why, Mr. Billson, your poor eye is
worse." It was Annie's soft voice. She
had come into the room by an inner door,
as her father left by the outer door. She
bore a lighted lamp.
"Good-evening, Annie. Yes, it is pain-
ful," said Billson.
"Come here to the light," she entreated.
"Perhaps I can remove the obstacle that
pains you."
Billson arose, and reseated himself by
the light. Annie's touch upon his in-
flamed face was soothing, wonderfully
soothing. He had never felt the touch of
her hand before.
With fingers exceedingly deft, she rolled
the eyelid on a pencil, and in a few seconds
held aloft her little white silk handkerchief
in triumph. There was a tiny speck
upon it.
"I have it out, Mr. Billson," she ex-
claimed. She showed it to him.
"I never can thank you enough," said
Billson, unusually relieved and rejoiced.
"I have a good notion to make you a pres-
ent of Flying Childers, out there."
"He would run away with me," pouted
Annie.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Billson,
minutely examining the little speck that
had caused him so much misery. "I'll
put it into a flower pot. I believe that it
is a seed. You remember about your
father's timothy seed. Perhaps it may
be the seed of some lovely flower. I
will grow the flower and present you with
it." And he wrapped the seed carefully
in a bit of paper, which he placed in an
envelope, and then in his pocket.
Thus the atmosphere was growing quite
sentimental, when a diversion was created
in the dark of the yard.
The cats had just set up another labored
vocal disagreement. This was immediately
succeeded by the savage whirr of some-
thing in the air, followed by its violent
collision with something, and this by an
explosion of howls, and that by the rearing
and snorting of a horse, and that by a hol-
low, subterranean scream, as if the earth
itself had gone mad, and its bowels were
rent.
Annie and Billson hurried out of the
house. The first thing they became aware
of, was the rapidly lessening sound of a
wild tattoo of hoofs. Flying Childers had
torn his tether, and started homeward.
"Where's papa?" asked Annie anxiously.
"I hope he's on the cart behind Childers,"
growled Billson to himself. Then, in a
louder key, "He must be right around here
somewhere. He fired a club at the cats,
only a few seconds ago."
"He has totally disappeared," wailed
Annie.
"Just as if he had gone up in a balloon,"
responded Billson.
"No, I've gone the other direction,"
said a voice so apparently beneath their
feet, that both sprang back in dismay.
"Help me out! I'm in the cistern!"
Billson got a ladder, and soon had the
dripping rector out on the surface.
The rector, with widespread arms and
legs, the water drizzling from him as if he
had been a walking drain, immediately
started for the house.
"Good-night, Annie," said Billson, ig-
noring the rector. "I wish I had given
you Childers. Then you would have to
chase him down."
Annie followed her father into the house,
and Billson proceeded down the dark
lane, in pursuit of the runaway.
Billson found the horse and cart in the
barnyard, as he expected, and little the
worse for the escapade.
Before he retired that night, he planted
the speck taken from his eye. He placed
it in a pot of rich earth, and put the pot
in a sunny windowsill, in his room.
THE MOTE IN HIS EYE
677
"I hope it'll sagashiate right," mur-
mured Billson, carefully moistening the
soil from a sprinkling pot.
The speck did prove to be a seed. It
pushed a tiny tendril of .green through the
brown soil. Billson was so rejoiced that
he immediately upon the discovery hitched
Flying Childers to the cart, and sent him
at top speed to the rectory, where he
divulged the glad news to Annie. She
received the tidings with a genuine sym-
pathetic delight that was lovely to see.
Billson was so enchanted that he had to
grab and hold himself with both hands,
metaphorically speaking, to keep from grab-
bing and holding her.
"The thing seems to be sagashiating
about right," murmured Billson, as he
drove homeward. "I have it all planned
out. When the plant blooms, I'll wrap
the pot in that big white silk handker-
chief that Ma gave me onct for Christ-
mas, and which is too nice to use, or carry
around. How nice that'll look! The pot
and dirt will all be covered up, and the
pritty posy a-wavin' and a-noddin' ! Then
I've made it up to say to her that she
brought beauty and loveliness out of
pain and misery, and that if she will be
Mrs. Billson, the pain and misery of life
will always give way to beauty and loveli-
ness. Now, if that isn't pritty smooth, I
don't know what is. 'Be Mrs. Billson,'
says I, after the speech about the posy
plant, 'Be Mrs. Billson, and my life will
be like that there seed that was in my eye,
pain and misery at first, but all turned
into beauty and loveliness by Annie.'
That'll fetch her. 'Mrs. Billson I'll be,'
she says, and falls into my arms. Git
up, Childers!"
Tenderly solicitous, Billson watched
the tiny tendril pushing its way from the
dark mould into the air and sunshine.
He watered it half-a-dozen times a day.
"I wish I could feed it, too," said Bill-
son.
*******
It was on a hot and sultry night. It
was such a night as that on which Billson
got the seed in his eye. Thunder was
growling along the horizon, and angry
puffs of wind raved along the land. Bill-
son, alone in his room, was preparing for
bed. Before extinguishing the light, he
took up the flower-pot, and rehearsed, for
the thousandth time, the speech he had
prepared as a presentation address to
Annie.
"It's growing pretty fast," muttered
Billson. "Only a week or two more, and
it'll be away up in the air, where my hopes
are." Billson had grown so poetical and
inspirational that, in a sudden fervor, he
placed the plant to his lips, and kissed it.
He did not remove it, but stood there,
holding the plant to his face, and staring
into vacancy.
He stood there so long, the plant close
to his face, and that awful look into
vacancy frozen upon his features, that an
observer would have become alarmed.
But there was no observer.
Slowly, with awful deliberation, Billson
replaced the pot upon the windowsill,
extinguished the light, and went to bed.
"Longfellow says," muttered Billson,
after the lapse of a full hour, " 'that his
hopes fell thick, like the leaves in the
blast.' That's what ails mine. That
there plant is a onion."
Billson slept little that night. The
odor of the obnoxious onion appeared
to permeate the place, and drove sleep
away. He arose next morning, red-eyed
and unrefreshed.
"All that pritty speech wasted," mourned
Billson, regarding the nauseous plant with
a glare. "No flower, no wife, no happy
future! Loneliness and desolation! Things
don't sagashiate right."
Not knowing how to break the news to
Annie, and knowing that she would surely
inquire about the plant as soon as she saw
him, Billson studiously remained away
from the rectory. A week, ten days,
drifted by, and Billson had not been at
the rectory, nor had he seen anyone from
there. He remained away from the church
services and temperance lectures.
"Mind my word," said the astute
rector, when Annie uneasily alluded to
Billson's long absence, "mind my word,
he's gone wrong. That eye! It was beer
or red liquor that made it. I said so then,
and I maintain it now. He doesn't want
to hear any more temperance lectures.
You just make it a point to get a good
whiff of his breath the next time he comes,
and report the whiff to me."
678
THE MOTE IN HIS EYE
"But he may never come!" responded
Annie, troubled.
*******
Meanwhile the baleful onion grew in
altitude and strength. At the end of
ten days, after the discovery of its true
character, it was a big, rank, reeking
thing. The rich soil and the tender
waterings had encouraged the onion
wonderfully.
Billson had decided a dozen times to
smash it; but always refrained, held back
by some unaccountable restraint. It was
on his mind day and night. "I taste it
in my sleep," muttered Billson, in lone
self-communion. "It ha'nts me. I see
acres of onions in the fleecy clouds that
sail over me. I taste onions in my food.
I dreamed I saw Foraker with an onion
head, and long green legs made of onion
stalks. He was reading in a roaring voice
a verse he had made up to worrit me:
'Billson had a forget-me-not,
Growing in an earthen pot;
Now Billson 's temper has a bunion,
For his posy was an onion.'
That's a good deal better than that lunk-
head, Foraker, could do. I gave him too
much credit in my dream."
Once Billson decided to take the pot,
plant and all, out behind the barn, and
bury it. But what should he tell Annie?
"And that old rector always a-buttin'
in," said Billson, talking to himself. "I
wish I had left him in that cistern! I
wish him and this here onion was in the
cistern together, and the cistern would
cave in."
So desperate had this gentle rural soul
become ! Willing to sacrifice Annie's father
with the onion!
One evening in a sudden frenzy he
grabbed his enemy by the top, furiously
wrenched the root from the soil, and with,
perhaps, something of the feeling of a
cannibal when feasting upon his worst
enemy, he ate it, root and branch.
Then he rushed from the room, hitched
Flying Childers to the cart, and went like
the wind into the village.
Billson bulged up to the bar, and amazed
the barkeeper by absorbing a stein of
beer. It was his first visit there.
Then, his courage being great enough
for anything, from trying a flying machine,
or commanding an army in a great battle,
on up to asking a pretty woman to marry
him, he sped behind Flying Childers to
the quiet rectory.
He was tying his horse to the accustomed
post, when he became aware of a presence
in his immediate vicinity. Looking up
from the tying-strap, he beheld Foraker.
"And this is the first obstacle I meet,"
he confided to Childers sullenly. He
meant object; but, on the whole, he spake
wiser than he knew.
Something about Foraker caused Billson
to falter and halt in his manipulation of
the halter. He concentrated his gaze
upon the young man.
Foraker was immensely dressed. He
seemed to stew clothes.
To emphasize his gorgeousness, Foraker
had a red flower in his buttonhole. It
was a poppy or hollyhock. It was a very
conflagration of a blossom.
"G.ood-evening," said Foraker, lounging
up, and elevating one foot to the hub of
Billson 's buggy.
"Good-evening. ' ' Billson's response was
even less cordial than Foraker's greeting,
which is getting it down below par.
"Good weather for crops." Foraker
said this in self-defense. Billson had come
close to him, and appeared to tower and
swell in the deepening dusk. Foraker's
tone was conciliatory. Aggressiveness sur-
rounded Billson, as an aura and halo.
"You seem to be fixed up a good deal,"
said Billson, growing still bigger, and
swelling to a threatening degree about
the chest. He entirely ignored Foraker's
remark about the weather.
"Why, aw — yes — I — in fact, I came to
see Annie, and girls like to see a fellow
groomed up. It sort of shows respect to
them, like." Foraker, still with his foot
on the buggy-hub, put his finger in his
vest pocket, and drew forth a quill tooth-
pick, with which he began a nervous and
unnecessary exploration of his teeth.
Both men began a slow saunter, side by
side, toward the house. Neither looked
at the other. Each had his gaze fixed
upon the ground.
Thus they appeared before Annie, who
met them at the door. Behind her
loomed Rector John, like the full moon
rising over a troubled sea.
"Come in, come in," called the rector.
THE MOTE IN HIS EYE
679
Good soul, his officious hospitality and his
presence could have been dispensed with
by the turbulent -souled trio at the door.
Annie knew, with a woman's intuition,
that both these men had come to say to
her the words of greatest mortal import
to any woman, and divined at once that
they had, each unknown to the other,
chosen the same evening and the same
hour for the same purpose.
"Come in, come in," chirped the mar-
plot rector. Though men called him
a divine, he divined nothing. He bobbed
and ogled and thumped about, like an
ill-conditioned, unguided log, coming
wrong-headed adown the stream of time.
The two young men stiffly took seats
near together, close against the wall.
Annie gracefully drooped into a settee a
little way from them, wondering, faint-
hearted and filled with forebodings, what
on earth would come of it.
'Tine weather, fine growing weather,"
muttered the human magpie, feeling about
for a match. "Great weather for corn,
and grass, and onions. Now, what makes
me think of onions? I guess I must smell
— why, I declare" (looking at Foraker, who
sat nearer him). "Mr. Foraker, you have
been eating onions."
"No, I haven't," said Mr. Foraker.
"Why, goodness me, what's the use of
denying it? The onion is an undeniable
vegetable, sir, and there's no use denying
it, for it speaks for itself, as one may say."
"I don't care what you say, I have not
been eating onions," siad Foraker stoutly.
"And I don't care what you say, sir,"
said the contentious rector. "I have not
yet taken leave of my senses. One of my
senses is the sense of smell. I do hereby
and now affirm that I do hereby and now
detect upon your breath the odor of onions,
and I am prepared to affirm and main-
tain that it is not what is expected of a
young man in respectable society to go
reeking with onions into the presence of
a young lady, to say nothing of the clergy-
man of the parish. Neither do I approve
of the odor of beer, which has within a
few moments become apparent in this
apartment."
"O papa," protested Annie.
"My child," said the now thoroughly
aroused rector, "this is for your good.
Your salvation may be worked this night,
here and now. Haven't I given of my
intellect, my time and best attainments
to the cause of temperance? Has not
this same young man sat under my lectures,
and gathered unto himself the rich gold
of my mental treasure-house? Like a
wolf in sheep's clothing, he sat among the
lambs of my flock, and now he comes after
one of them, laden with the poison against
which I have preached all my life. This
is an insult to me. I —
"I won't stand for this any longer,"
said Foraker fiercely, and rising to his
feet. "You must be crazy, you old
stoughtonbottle ! What do you pitch onto
me like this for, the moment I enter your
house? Your mental treasure-house — bah !
It's empty. It ought to have a tenant.
Your old lectures were the worst mental
rot that ever festered in a diseased brain.
To thunder with you and your imbecile
estimates of yourself! You don't know
enough to come in when it rains. You
ain't fit to fertilize a turnip-patch. I cut
you and your whole shooting-match out."
"Ah, ha! He doesn't deny the beer
as he denied the onion, note that," Rector
John was toddling after him, as Foraker
strode from the apartment. Shaking his
fist after the disappearing form of the
youth, Rector John stood in the door,
shouting all manner of invective.
"Why, I smell the odor yet! The room
is redolent of it. It'll take all night with
open windows to let it escape upon the
shuddering atmosphere," fretted Rector
John, prowling around and around the
room. "It makes me sick. What a
lucky escape you have had, Annie, my
own! I know you two will miss me; but
I must go to bed. This excitement and
this odor have entirely unnerved me."
*******
As Billson drove home in the lonely
night, the wind going by him like a rest-
less memory, he thought of Annie's promise
to marry him, and still he was not happy.
"I like to be on the square," confided
Billson to Flying Childers, "and I feel
that Foraker didn't have a square deal
tonight. He didn't sagashiate right. They
say that all's fair in love or war. Do you
believe that?"
"Neigh!" whinnied Flying Childers.
Stoeet
By WILLIAM McGRATH
T WAS on the steamer "Croix du Sud"
* We met — the captain's cheer to test —
And soon the little ship was gay
With song and laughter, wine and jest.
The glasses gleamed with ruddy glow,
Their chinkling pleasant music made,
While cheese and crackers rested near —
The booty of the purser's raid.
The watchman with his measured tread,
Upon the deck marched to and fro,
Keeping a bright lookout ahead
In case a sou 'east gale should blow.
And then when suddenly a lull
Fell on the merry laughing throng.
The first mate rose and volunteered
To sing the crowd a song.
He sang of England, and each voice
Joined in the chorus loud,
And patriotism burning bright
Inflamed the jolly crowd.
But when the last note died away
And all again was still,
Another rose and sang of love:
"Her Bright Smile Haunts me Still."
And by the hush that fell on all,
For no one spoke or moved,
The power of that sublimest thing —
A woman's love — was proved.
Another sang that old sea song:
"O'er the Wild Waves I will Roam,"
But all hearts joined in brotherhood
While singing "Home, Sweet Home."
With tear-dimmed eyes and husky throats
We sang that song sublime,
While each heart swelled with longing pain
As throbbing it kept time.
And thus wherever man may be,
On land or ocean foam,
His heart will turn with fond regrets
And love to Home, Sweet Home.
'EVERYWOMAN"
A MODERN MORALITY PLAYi
Its Author and its Producer
by James Shes^reen
ENRY W. SAVAGE'S
production of Walter
Browne's modern
morality play "Every -
woman" has given
rise to much specu-
lation regarding its
title, and the question
naturally arises, what
does "Everywoman"
mean?
The answer is vast-
ly interesting and, to
a large degree, unex-
pected. Mr. Browne
describes his work as
a "modern morality
play" which has a
special significance to
all students of dra-
matic literature. The
query that comes to
the mind naturally is :
"What was an ancient
morality play and what is the relation of
the two?"
Epicures of the stage — as a certain
class may be styled, will inevitably recall
' 'Everyman," that curious antique which
was presented a few years ago and attained
a conspicuous vogue as presented by Miss
Edith Wynn-Mathison and a company
of English players. That was an "ancient
morality play," and the only example of
its kind, familiar to present day theatre-
goers; but it was largely curiosity that
drew its audiences, much in the same
fashion that persons of culture will go to
see a Greek tragedy presented by uni-
versity students.
Of course it was
suggested the name
"Everyman" that
of Mr. Browne's
work, and he has in a great measure
followed the general structure of the earlier
piece. This may seem a daring experi-
ment where the favor of the sophisticated,
pleasure-seeking theatre-goer is sought,
but there is a wide difference between the
old and the new. Mr. Browne has adopted
the quaint system of philosophy that
pervades the earlier work, but his achieve-
ment lies in the fact that he has applied
it with power and originality to con-
temporary conditions, the result being
a spirited, pulsing drama of life as it
exists today in every metropolitan city.
Considering the fact that the basic
idea of both dramas is about five hundred
years old, it may easily be said that the
author of "Everywoman" is a bold ad-
venturer. It is that very feature, however,
that lends extraordinary interest to Mr.
Savage's production, and makes a look
backward profitable. In "Everyman,"
as in its successor, the characters are
given names that indicate their qualities,
but the first is little more than a preach-
ment, prolix and dull, the only interest
in which was purely literary, and the
excellent acting of which — in the revival
mentioned — alone saved it from disaster
as a theatrical production; while in Mr.
Browne's play, there is a story of absorb-
ing vital interest.
In the olden times the morality play
was simply a form of allegorical literature.
It did not become widely popular until
its personification of the virtues and vices
in action could be used as an appeal to
the people on great public questions in
debate among them. It had a use of its
own when, in the days of Henry the Eighth,
it was taken up by men who sought the
reformation of abuses, and it. helped to
(681)
682
"EVERYWOMAN"
form or express the opinions of the people.
The best examples of this period, of this
particular class of writing are the "Mag-
nificence" of John Skelton, and Sir David
Lindsay's "Satire of the Three Estates."
Lindsay's play set forth the condition
of the country with distinct and practical
suggestions of the reforms most needed.
Some of the characters were King Hu-
manity, Diligence, Wantonness, Lady Sen-
suality, Flattery, Falsehood, Deceit,
Solace and Good Counsel. It was played
before the King in 1539 and had such an
effect that at the close of the performance
His Majesty warned some of the Bishops
present that if they did not take heed they
would be dealt with summarily.
Actually, the morality play is isolated
among forms of dramatic production.
It sprang in a sense from the miracle
play, which dealt with spiritual subjects
only, but its usefulness ended when the
Renaissance brought into England the
wealth of Italian poetry, and translations
of Terence and Plautus took the stage.
Then came the wonderful Elizabethen
Era, and the morality play was virtually
forgotten, although Shakespeare and his
contemporaries make casual allusion to it.
In the chapter on "The Mediaeval
Drama," in his work entitled "The De-
velopment of the Drama" (Scribner, 1903)
Professor Brander Matthews writes:
"The Morality was an attempt to
depict character, but with the aid of
primary colors only, and with an easy
juxtaposition of light and darkness. Yet
it helped along the development of the
drama, in that it permitted a freer handling
of the action, since the writer of Moralities
had always to invent his plots, whereas
the maker of Mysteries had his stories
ready-made to his hand; the .Morality
was frankly fiction, while the Miracle
play gave itself out for fact. Then also
the tendency seems irresistible, for any
author who has an appreciation of human
nature, to go speedily from the abstract
to the concrete, and to substitute for the
cold figure of Pride itself the fiery portrait
of an actual man who is proud."
There was no attempt in the old morality
play at what we now call dramatic con-
struction. There were no "situations,"
in the modern sense, no "climaxes." The
play was all talk, didactic and dull. But
in it lay possibilities which the serious-
minded writers of those days did not
realize. It remained for a playwright of
a period of five centuries later to appreciate
the opportunity, and in the guise of alle-
gory to build a drama of which modern
femininity is shown "Every woman," with
all the virtues and frailties of the sex, but
beset and surrounded by the conditions
which prevail today in every great metrop-
olis.
In calling "Everywoman" a modern
morality play, the author has sought to
convey two facts. First, that to a large
extent, it is written in the same fashion
and after the model of those products
of the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries
of which "Everyman" is the best known
example. Second, that notwithstanding
this, it is absolutely modern as regards
action, characterization and environments.
While every part is symbolical of various
abstract virtues, vices and conditions, Mr.
Browne has endeavored to make them also
concrete types of actual men and women
of the present day. The object was to
present an allegory, in the shape of a
stage play, sufficiently dramatic and soul
stirring in its story and action to form an
attractive entertainment, quite apart from
its psychological significance.
"Everywoman" is not a sermon in dis-
guise. It is not a quixotic effort to ele-
vate the stage. It is intended to afford
pleasure and entertainment to all classes
of intelligent playgoers — hence the music,
the songs, and choruses, the dances, the
spectacular and scenic effects, and the
realism of everyday life.
At the same time it is hoped that the
play may be found to contain some clean
and wholesome moral lessons. Since
the days of chivalry, when knights clashed
steel for their lady loves and went on
crusades to prove their prowess, while
they remained secluded in cloisters or in
moated castles, womankind, of which
the title role of this play is intended to
be a type, has grown more self-assertive
and more bold. To every woman who
nowadays listens to flattery, goes in quest
of love, and openly lays siege to the hearts
of men, this play may provide a kindly
warning.
"EVERYWOMAN"
683
To every man it may suggest an ad-
monition, the text of which is contained
in the epilogue to the play:
"Be merciful, be just, be fair,
To Everywoman, everywhere.
Her faults are many. Nobody's the blame. "
The principal characters in "Every-
woman" are named Youth, Beauty,
Modesty, Conscience, Nobody, Flattery,
Truth, Love, Passion, Time, Wealth,
Witless, Age, Greed, Self, Vanity, Vice,
Charity, Law, Order, Stuff, Bluff, and a
dozen others of lesser value.
The story and action of the play is as
follows:
The scene of the first canticle is laid
in the home of Everywoman, a character
designed to be typical of all womankind.
The dawn is just breaking and in the
dimly-lighted room Nobody is discovered.
The character of Nobody, which acts as
Chorus to the play, is portrayed as a
whimsical, cynical, sardonic and some-
what mystical figure.
After a plea for fair play for Every-
woman, there are seen dancing in the
dawn-lit garden, bound by garlands of
roses and singing a joyous spring song,
three fairy-like, graceful maidens. They
are Youth, Beauty and Modesty, Every-
woman 's cherished friends and companions.
Their sweet song awakens Everywoman,
who appears at the head of the stairs
leading to her bed chamber. She greets
them lovingly. It is seen that Every-
woman is a beautiful , young and innocent
maiden, with a girl's harmless love of
fun and a girl's love of admiration. She
bemoans the fact that Nobody is in love
with her, and fearing that Nobody will
marry her against her will she orders that
mythical personage from the house. In
anger he prophesies that when Every-
woman shall have lost Youth, Beauty
and Modesty then she will love Nobody
and will find comfort in Nobody's arms.
Youth and Beauty lead Everywoman
to her mirror. She rejoices somewhat
vainly in the beautiful picture she presents,
and as she gazes the image of herself fades
away; in its stead she sees Flattery, in
the guise of a fop and courtier, who an-
nounces that he bears a message from
King Love the First. Love would make
her his queen, and Flattery bids Every-
woman go out into the world in quest of
Love. Everywoman elects to do so, and
Youth suggests that Love is most readily
found in the amusement temples of the
great cities.
Everywoman and her three companions
are about to set out in quest of Love,
when Nobody again warns her that
disaster will follow her obeying the dic-
tates of Flattery. She scoffs at him and
spurns the pleadings of Modesty. Then
Truth comes to her. Truth is depicted
as an old witch, who is beloved by Nobody.
Truth almost prevails on Everywoman
to remain at home and await Love's
coming, but again Flattery appears and
fascinates his victim. It appears that
in reality Love is the offspring of Truth,
and as she brings her son to Everywoman's
house, Everywoman is seen doing homage
to Flattery, and Truth realizes that it
is too late. Everywoman and her three
companions go out into the world in quest
of King Love the First.
In the second canticle is seen the stage
of a big city theatre at rehearsal time.
It is shown that Everywoman has quickly
risen to be a "star" in the profession she
has chosen, while Youth and Beauty are
her subordinates. "Unknown to the
managers of the playhouse, Everywoman
has smuggled her much loved friend,
Modesty, into the chorus. There she is
discovered by Bluff and Stuff, theatre
managers of a vulgar type. In spite of
the pleading of Youth and Beauty,
Modesty is banished, and when Every-
woman arrives at the theatre, accompanied
by two of her admirers, Wealth, a mil-
lionaire, and Witless, a nobleman, she
laments the loss of Modesty. She is
attended by her handmaiden, Conscience,
whose still, small, sweet voice alternately
sooths her and makes her sorrowful. As
Everywoman grieves that Love is still
unfound, Youth and Beauty suggest to
her that Passion, a play actor, may be
Love in disguise. She feels his strange
influence over her, and when he rehearses
to her a passionate love song, she relin-
quishes herself to his artifices. As she
embraces him she hears the voice of
the banished Modesty wailing "Fare thee
well." Realizing that for the moment
she had forgotten Modesty, Everywoman,
684
•'EVERYWOMAN"
in a revulsion of feeling, tears the mask
from Passion's face, repulses him and
orders him away. The scene ends with a
powerful apostrophe to Love, whom
Every woman still vainly seeks.
Everywoman's palatial apartment in
the city is the scene of canticle three.
The time is after midnight and E very-
woman is entertaining Wealth, Witless
and a host of friends of somewhat reckless
type, at a lavish, uproarious, Bohemian
after-theatre supper. Late hours and a
gay life have had their influence on Beauty ,
and while the others eat, drink and make
merry, Beauty lies ill upon a couch, at-
tended by Conscience, whose plaintive,
dirge-like song ever and anon is heard
by Everywoman midst the din and the
hilarity of her guests and her own audacious
frivolity. The party gradually develops
into an orgie, during which Everywoman
is enthroned on the top of a table as
"Queen of the Revels." There she recites
to music a poem of an almost ribald nature,
backed by the bacchanalian chorus of
her friends in the refrain, "Be-elzebub!"
Be-elzebub!" The voice of Conscience
breaks into this and eventually reaches
all hearts, so that Everywoman dismisses
her guest sorrowfully. Youth falls asleep
from exhaustion, as Wealth returns un-
steadily and more or less brutally to en-
deavor to persuade Everywoman that
he is the king she seeks. Assuming the
name and title of Love , he tries to buy her
with rich gifts, but when she reminds him
that sooner or later she will lose Youth,
and Beauty, Wealth shows himself in his
true colors. She realizes that it is because
she is young and beautiful that he desires
her, and that he and true, pure love are
not even akin. Disgusted with her pil-
grimage in search of Love, she determines
to go back to her old home, taking Youth
and Beauty with her, and to consult with
Truth, but in the moment of her resolve,
Conscience tells her that Beauty has
perished. Everywoman is horrified, and
as the window curtains are drawn and
the light of day streams in, she looks in
her mirror and sees, not Flattery, but
Truth. Maddened by the sight she hurls
a wine bottle at Truth, and seizing the
hand of Wealth, who still lingers by,
she breaks into a wild, hysterical
abandoned dance with him, singing the
refrain: "Be-elzebub! Be-elzebub!"
The fourth canticle occurs on "The
Great White Way" during New Year's
Eve. There is seen the merry, uproarious
throng which marks upper Broadway
at such a time. The scene is the street
outside a fashionable restaurant; within
are a typical crowd of New Year's Eve
supper parties. Everywoman enters, still
clinging to Youth, the last of her early
companions. But Youth is failing fast,
and Time, who seeks to slay her, is dogging
her footsteps. Everywoman, who has
fallen from stardom, since Beauty ceased
to exist, now seeks Wealth, who cast her
aside at Beauty's grave. Youth tries
to lead her to the adjacent church, from
which the chimes proclaim the birth of
a new year. Everywoman, blaming Youth
for her many mistakes and determined
to let worldly wisdom guide her In future,
bids Youth begone and Youth falls into
the clutches of Time. Wealth appears
from the restaurant, surrounded by a
crowd of vulgar sycophants. Everywoman
makes a final appeal to him, but he dis-
cards her, now that she has lost Youth
and Beauty, and goes off with Vice, a
siren of the "Great White Way." Every-
woman is now alone, an outcast. In
the midst of her misery a bier with the
body of Youth is borne across the stage
to the church, Charity, a minister of the
gospel, chanting at the head of the pro-
cession, followed by Conscience singing
a requiem. Everywoman, heartbroken,
sinks to her knees amid the falling snow
and at the end of her pathetic appeal for
"Help" Nobody appears. He reminds
her of his having protested that Nobody
was her friend. She would find Love in
Nobody. Tragically she seeks to escape
him and she then meets Truth. Gladly
she greets her and led by Truth approaches
the church, crying "Charity! Charity
for Everywoman, I ask."
The scene of the fifth canticle is the
same as that of the first — Everywoman's
home. It is a stormy winter night. Sitting
in a cosy corner by the glow of a fire is
Love, who has patiently awaited Every-
woman while she has been battling with
the world. To her old home comes Every-
woman, led by Truth. There, when alone
"EVERYWOMAN"
685
for a moment she finds Love, awakening
him from his slumbers. Believing him a
stranger she calls Truth, and is astounded
when Love greets Truth as "Mother."
She has not known that Love is ever
born of Truth. After pleading her un-
worthiness, because of her unholy pil-
grimage in which she lost Youth, Beauty
and Modesty, she is won by Love, and
with the return of Modesty, who has
escaped her persecutors, the play ends
with Everywoman happily betrothed to
Love, in her old home, where with Love
and Truth she will evermore abide by
the fireside of happiness.
The manuscript of "Everywoman" was
accepted by Mr. Savage nearly a year ago,
and for the past four months his produc-
tion department has been busily employed
constructing the scenic equipment, prop-
erties and vast paraphernalia that will
constitute the settings required in its
five canticles. One of the big scenic
features will faithfully depict the riotous
reveling of a New Year's Eve on Broad-
way, and in order to render this scene
absolutely correct Mr. Savage took ad-
vantage of the opportunity recently af-
forded. His scenic artist, Walter Burridge,
made sketches from life, and his general
stage director, George Marion, visited
the congested intersections of the "Great
White Way" for the purpose of absorbing
the realistic atmosphere of the riot fanfare
and the carnival spirit that prevails in
New York on New Year's Eve. In this
scene in "Everywoman" upwards of three
hundred people will be employed on the
stage. The magnitude and vast realistic
details of the New Year's Eve scene will
be further enhanced by a chime of bells
weighing three thousand pounds. In
order to accommodate this particular
feature it will be necessary to rebuild
the upper structure of the stage of the
theatre in which the play is presented.
The scenic equipment of "Everywoman"
will be most elaborate and intricate, and
will represent the biggest investment in
stage offerings since Mr. Savage's amazing
production of "Parsifal" in English.
The costumes were designed by Hy.
Mayer, the well-known artist and illus-
trator, and their production alone will
represent a small fortune. Their making
has been a laboriously long process. Every
detail of the designs has been followed
faithfully, as they are a very necessary
adjunct to the actors in the correct de-
piction of the characters in the drama.
The incidental and choral music, of
which there are twenty-six numbers,
especially written by George Whitefield
Chad wick, the famous American composer,
will be a very important feature. The
musical numbers include a male quartette,
six choruses, solo dances, a trio, three
solos, and several incidental numbers for
the orchestras, which will number forty-
two pieces — nearly as many instruments
as are required for grand opera.
In selecting the dast for "Everywoman"
Henry W. Savage has exercised the greatest
possible care and discrimination. Scores
of actors for the principal characters were
considered, and accepted or rejected before
the company was finally organized. The
principals make up a remarkable roster
of talent that includes Laura Nelson Hall,
Frederic de Belleville, H. Cooper Cliff e,
Edward Mackay, Orlando Daly, John L.
Shine, Sydney Jarvis, Walter Soderling,
and Sarah Co well Le Moyne.
The action of "Everywoman" furnishes
an object lesson in diction and the reading
of blank verse that has seldom if ever
been afforded the student and observer
of the drama in America. Each and
every principal player in the cast of
"Everywoman" was engaged with a
special view not only to his ability as an
actor but also his training in diction and
reading blank verse, in which metre
"Everywoman" is written. The company
was rehearsed and the play staged under
the direction of George Marion, Mr.
Savage's general technical stage director,
who is without a peer as a master crafts-
man in his art in this country or in Europe.
Walter Browne, the author of "Every-
woman," was born in Hull, Yorkshire,
England, and is the only son of the late
Dr. George Browne, who was twice Lord
Mayor of York. He was graduated from
St. Peter's College and took the degree
of L. D. S. Royal College of Physicians.
As an amateur Mr. Browne founded the
York Garrick Club. He studied music
in England and in Italy and for some
time toured England giving pianoforte
686
"EVERYWOMAN"
and vocal recitals. He made his first
professional appearance on the stage in
London in 1881, originating the part of
the Colonel in Gilbert and Sullivan's
opera "Patience." He sang many of the
principal baritone parts during the seasons
of grand opera at the Covent Garden and
the Crystal Palace. In the meantime
Mr. Browne did much magazine and
dramatic writing. He was one of the
founders of The Yorkshireman, a weekly
satirical publication, and for three years
was dramatic critic for the London Even-
ing Echo. Mr. Browne's first play "Hearts
and Homes," was produced at the Theatre
Royal, York, England, in 1879. In the
'same year there was published in London
a volume of his verses. He is the author
of "A King of Shreds and Patches,"
produced at the Theatre Royal in 1880.
Other plays by Mr. Browne are "Ripples,"
"A Love Game," which was played for
over nine hundred times at Toole's Theatre,
and "A Wet Day" which had a run of
four hundred nights. His plays "Fits
and Starts," "Blue Ribbons," "Wedded,"
"Once Again," "The Bo'sun's Mate," "In
Possession," "Mates," "Photographic
Fun," and a number of others enjoyed
a great measure of success in London
and the provinces in the eighties. He
also wrote "The Next Day," which was
produced in this country by Harry Lacy.
Mr. Browne is also the author of two
novels, "Joe Buskin, Comedian," pub-
lished in London, and "The Fossil Man,"
published by Dillingham, New York.
In 1&89 Mr. Browne went to South
America as the principal baritone of the
first English opera company to visit
the South American Republics. He re-
turned to London and for a year appeared
in vaudeville sketches of his own writing
in the London Music Halls. He then
embarked for South Africa where he was
for some time a member of the Johannes-
burg Stock Exchange. From Africa he
came to this country, making his first
appearance as Grosvenor in "Patience"
at Palmer's Theatre, New York, in 1892.
In 1894 Mr. Browne joined the editorial
staff of the New York World and has since
been known as a newspaper man and
writer of dramatic short stories. He is at
present with the New York Herald.
Henry W. Savage, the producer and
managerial sponsor of "Everywoman,"
ranks with the foremost of America's
theatrical managers. His name is familiar
to every theatregoer throughout this
broad land, and is equally well known in
the theatrical and musical centres of
England and the Continent. Mr. Savage's
career as a theatrical producing manager
began upwards of a score of years ago,
as the lessee and manager of the Castle
Square Theatre, Boston. After several
seasons of elaborate revivals of light
operas covering the entire repertoire of
the most popular and best known bills,
he organized similar companies in New
York and Philadelphia. At this period
his eye caught the spirit of the public
demand and he launched into the sister
realm of musical comedy. His first pro-
duction in this field was "King Dodo,"
which was followed by "The Prince of
Pilsen," "Peggy From Paris," "The Sultan
of Sulu," "Woodland," "The Yankee
Consul," "Sho-Gun," and "The Yankee
Tourist." Following these came his pro-
ductions of "The College Widow," "The
County Chairman," "The Student King,"
"The Stolen Story," "Tom Jones," which
were followed in rapid succession with
"The Galloper," "The Love Cure," "The
Gay Hussars," "The Devil," and a number
of others leading up to his most recent
successes, "The Merry Widow" and
"Madame X." In addition to this long
list of productions Mr. Savage has attained
international distinction as a producer
of grand opera in English. For several
seasons the Savage Grand Opera Company
toured the principal cities of the country
with enormous success. His production
of "Parsifal" in English will long be
remembered as the most amazing offering
in the realm of music-drama in the ver-
nacular, in American history, and his
production of Puccini's grand opera,
"Madame Butterfly" in English was one
of the most artistic and elaborate offerings
that ever graced the operatic stage. Next
season Mr. Savage is planning an elaborate
presentation in English of "The Girl of
the Golden West," Puccini's grand opera
based on the famous Belasco drama,
which is the feature bill of the present
season at the Metropolitan Opera House.
THE HUMAN TRIUMPH
687
Mr. Savage's production of "Every -
woman" is justly regarded as the crown-
ing achievement of the remarkable career
of a remarkable man.
Henry W. Savage is perhaps the least
known individual personally of any of the
big theatrical producers. His time is
wholly engaged in planning and executing
his multifarious enterprises. Labor is
his sole pleasure. He is invariably at
his office at eight o'clock in the morning
and, except when attending rehearsals,
he is at his desk at 108 West 45th Street,
New York City, till midnight. His vaca-
tion is a trip to Europe semi-annually,
whither he journeys to look over the
European theatrical markets. He main-
tains foreign representatives in London,
Paris, Berlin and Vienna.
When Mr. Savage plans the production
of a foreign attraction, Mr. George Marion,
his technical stage director, is sent abroad
to study the features of the play, and
frequently some of the principal actors
are sent, in order that they may familiarize
themselves with the roles that they will
essay in this country.
One of Mr. Savage's notable character-
istics is his courteousness. He treats with
marked consideration every member of his
various organizations and admonishes his
managers and executive staff to follow this
rule. The keynote of his "Bible of Publici-
ty" is to keep within the province of Facts.
Among his instructions to his press agents
are the following:
"Speak in the highest terms of other
attractions. A short story with a sting
in the tip is to my mind infinitely better
than a florid paragraph which hardly
anyone prints and no one believes. Do
not use the term' 'show girl.' Avoid
stories about losing valuables, accidents
behind the scenes, fires, etc. Omit ref-
erences to stock brokers, automobiles
and stage-door 'Johnnies.' Stories about
members of the company winning large
sums at the races should be avoided. Do
not use extravagant terms and do not
misrepresent."
THE HUMAN TRIUMPH
By EDWARD WILBUR MASON
MOT from the lightning flash;
* ^ Not from the icy star;
Not from the flames that lash
The wandering fires afar;
But from the noonday heat,
Torch I snatch for my feet!
Not from the purpling rose;
Not from the lily cool;
Not from the garden close
Sheltered and beautiful;
But from the wayside flower
Do I snatch breath of power!
Not from the maddening thrush;
Not from the nightingale;
Not from the winds that rush
Storm-driven through the dale;
But from the silence calm
I snatch the sweetest balm!
Not from the printed book;
Not from the word or song;
Not from the smile or look,
Nor from the bell or gong;
But from the grassy sod
I snatch the peace of God!
am """inr~" me
' ttyng* at
By MARY LOUISE RUSSELL
IN winter when I go to bed it's awful dark outdoors,
* There are horrid lookin' shadders on the window, an' the floors
Just covered all with crawlin' things that give one such a fright.
So how's a feller goin' ter help a-seein' things at night?
There's a ghost up in the corner where my hobbyhorse has stood,
An' he starts a-sort o' wavin' roun' his hands as though he would
Come an' catch an' hug me in his awful arms so white,
An' then I scream, it skeers me so, a-seein' things at night.
An' in the Spring it's most as bad, though it is not so dark;
I hear the burglars climbin' up my window from the park,
An' then I hide my head — but soon I peek it out a mite,
An' find it's only vines that keeps me hearin' things at night.
I heard a noise t'other night, the mostest awful howl,
But mother laughed at me an' said, 'twas nothing but an owl;
I guess she wouldn't laugh like that, if she hadn't any light
An' was in my place, all alone, a-hearin' things at night.
One summer we was in the woods, an' I was awful skeered,
'Cause there was lots of things up there that made me all af eared.
When I was lyin' in the tent, an' I hear 'em gnaw an' bite
I'd get all shivery an' cold, a-hearin' things at night.
I ain't afeared o' porkeys when I meet 'em in the day,
Nor snakes nor bears, nor any other o' them beasts o' prey;
But when I'm lyin' all alone, I stop my ears up tight,
An' even then I just can't help a-hearin' things at night.
But Autumn is the time for ghosts that make the weirdest noise,
For then they creak, an' crack, an' groan, an' all the little boys
Is almost skeered ter death, ter see 'em dancin' roun' so bright.
For it's awful creepy, lyin' still, a-hearin' things at night.
My mother says it's only winds a-howlin' out o' doors,
An' moombeams dancin' on the walls, an' shinin' on the floors,
But you just bet she can't fool me, 'cause I'm dead sure I'm right
An' that I'm really a-hearin' an' a-seein' things at night.
">TT-
THE
MUSICAL SEASON
5 IN AMERJCA j
Arthur, Wilson
HE singing of opera
in the English lan-
guage is a lively
question for specula-
tion and debate just
now. It is not the
first time in the his-
tory of opera that
men have reasoned
among themselves,
have arisen in high places and said : "Come,
let us sing together in the theatre, as in
the church and the concert hall, in the
tongue of our fathers." This is upon the
supposition that their fathers spoke the
King's English as well or better than the
King.
Indeed, let us ponder a moment in pro-
found contemplation of that perennial,
that eternal work: "The first American
Opera." A catalogued list with genus,
species and pedigree would comprise a
respectable sized monograph, not as
voluminous as the New York telephone
directory, Montgomery Ward's catalog
or the unabridged dictionary, but per-
chance rivaling the space required to treat
with due respect the hats of Geraldine
Farrar, or the reason why David Bispham
said "Fie! fie!" and called for an ounce
of civet at Mr. Bonci's incomprehensible
audacity in presuming to undertake to teach
American singers how to sing their own
tongue, and at the equally inexplicable delu-
sion of the gentlemen who would proffer a
portion of their worldly goods to back him
in an opera company as a means to that
end.
Not long since, when Boston was about
to have its second session with Mr. Con-
verse's "The Pipe of Desire," there was
to be observed in some literature cir-
culated about it, the statement that it
was the first really American opera.
Doubtless we shall keep on having the
first American opera yet for a goodly
number of years. We have had it reborn,
revived, resuscitated and otherwise dis-
covered for the first time for so many
decades now that it is a question what we
should ever do without it.
Mr. Louis Elson, veteran of musical
research, in his "American Music," cites
W. G. Armstrong as authority for saying
that the first American opera was "The
Archers, or the Mountaineers of Switzer-
land," libretto by William Dunlop, and
music by Benjamin Carr, said to have
been performed in New York, April 18,
1796. In the same book, Esther Singleton,
a writer upon operatic subjects, names
her first American opera as "Edwin and
Angelina," libretto by one Smith, music
by Pellisier, performed for the first time
in New York, December 19, 1796. "Bour-
ville Castle," by the same composer, was
given the following season. The first
American opera apparently began to
thrive a number of years ago.
Then there was "Leonora" in 1858
and "Notre Dame de Paris" in 1863 by
William H. Fry, European correspondent
and music critic of the New York Tribune,
and there was "Rip Van Winkle" (1855)
by George F. Bristol. For a time Mr.
Bristol and Mr. Fry had an "American
school of opera" all their own. There
should be a word of remembrance for
Frederick Gleason's "Montezuma" and
his "Otho Visconti." The latter, if I
am not mistaken, was produced several
years ago in Chicago at what was known
as the College Theatre. There was also
"The Scarlet Letter" of Walter Damrosch,
(689)
690
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
produced for the first time anywhere in
Boston at the Boston Theatre, February
10, 189G, with Mme. Gadski as Hester
Prynne; the "Azara" of Professor Paine,
never produced as an opera, but sung in
concert by the Cecilia Society, Boston,
April 9, 1907, B. J. Lang, conductor.
Nor is that all. The record should
include the "Zenobia" of Louis Coerne,
produced at Bremen, December 1, 1905,
the "Safir" of Henry Hadley, produced
April 6, 1909, at Mayence, during the
period of the composer's conductorship
there, and Arthur Nevin's "Poia," of
recent and not altogether joyous memory,
yet now alert with the promise of a new
baptism, for upon the receipt of the cable
of congratulation from the board of
directors of the Metropolitan Opera
House, New York, at the premiere of
Professor Humperdinck's "Kingschildren,"
the Kaiser straightway commanded the
intendant of the Royal Opera to stand
before him, and the report went abroad
that it was probable "Poia" would be
revived, perhaps as a measure of inter-
national reciprocity, perhaps as a penance
for the vituperative comment of the
German musical press. From the accounts
even of Americans who were in Berlin,
it would now appear that the Kaiser's
capacity for compunction is generous.
But Mr. Nevin is soon to have a hearing
in New York, his one-act opera in English,
"Twilight," has been accepted for pro-
duction this month at the Metropolitan
Opera House.
And the end is not yet, nor is this list
guaranteed complete. There is Howland's
"Sarrona," sung once last winter in New
York, Pietro Floridia's "Paoletta," pro-
duced in Cincinnati last August, and, for
a pioneer overlooked, "La Spia," an opera
with a libretto founded by Filippo Manetti
on Cooper's novel, "The Spy," and with
music by Luigi Arditi, a well-known con-
ductor, which was performed at the Astor
Place Opera House, New York, March
24, 1856, for the first time on any stage.
More than any other work, "The Pipe
of Desire" has been associated and in a
sense identified with this agitation of opera
in English, and unfortunately so. Its
premiere occurred in Boston, January 31,
1906. It was done by amateurs. Two
other performances followed in February
and March. It was produced at the Metro-
politan Opera House, New York, the
eighteenth of March, a year ago. A repe-
tition followed at the Metropolitan and
another at the New Theatre. Why the
opera was accepted for production in New
York must remain an inexplicable mystery,
for inherent and serious weakness in the
libretto was discovered at its first ap-
pearance in Boston, and was promptly
pointed out and exceptions also taken to
the music by the New York reviewers.
Notwithstanding, it was again proffered
to Boston by the local company the
sixth of January, and once again has
been found wanting in the power of
appeal.
It is therefore unfortunate that the
cause of opera in English should in any
manner be judged by or associated with
a work which manifestly ignores the
salient principles of dramatic construc-
tion in plot, text and consequently in
much of the music. There are now operas
in English forthcoming which it may be
hoped will more successfully promote
the innovation for which they stand.
Mr. Converse has made a second essay
in "The Sacrifice," announced for produc-
tion by the Boston company this season.
This time he is to be his own librettist.
He has laid his plot in picturesque Southern
California in 1849 during the struggle
for possession between United States and
Mexican troops.
But the opera of the hour is Victor
Herbert's "Natoma," the premiere of
which at this time of writing is announced
to take place at the Metropolitan Opera
House of Philadelphia, by Mr. Dippel's
Chicago-Philadelphia company or now,
according to its degree of geographical lati-
tude, the Philadelphia-Chicago company.
Mary Garden, one of the comparatively
few upon our lyric stage to whom the
word "artist" in its supreme and proper
sense justly applies, is to create the name-
part. The librettist is Joseph D. Redding,
a lawyer of New York and San Francisco.
He was the first president of the Bohemian
Club of the latter city, and has written
some of the plays which they have given
in the redwood forest. At this time the
vocal score of "Natoma" has not come
MISS FRANCES ALDA
An artiste of exceptional ability who is pleasing Boston opera-goers
692
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
from the printer, and it is not yet possible
to know the character of the libretto.
Opera in English, such as it is or was,
has therefore existed for some time. That
every work with music set to a text in
English has not endured through succes-
sive years is not strange. The founding
of an American "school" of opera is not
a thing attained with a few sporadic
performances of any one opera or of several.
There are many factors which must be
successfully combined to produce operas
with an English text, and with music by
American composers that will endure,
and retain a place in operatic repertory.
In scanning the horizon to discover the
coming man in American opera, whoever
he shall be, much thought has been
taken of the music. No one will deny
that an opera demands music, and music
presupposes a composer whose schooling
and practice has not set up as his models
either the oratorio or the symphony,
but one who has observed the operas
of Scarlatti, of Gluck and of Mozart
before sitting down to express his thoughts
in the style and vocabulary of Strauss
and Debussy, and who has also observed
that the fundamental and enduring prin-
ciples which underlie operatic construc-
tion require a terse, vigorous and vital
recitative which shall narrate and propel
the action of the plot and express the
prose of declamation, and with it a fluent,
more graceful but equally vital arioso
which shall express the poetry of passion
and emotion. Let him then be mindful
of the need for dramatizing or character-
izing music which, by the employment
of melodic symbols or by sheer tonal
suggestion, will mirror, illumine or itali-
cize in the orchestra the action on the
stage. In short, let the composer be urged
to come to his task prepared to write
music for the theatre, and not for a religious
service or for the concert room.
And what, pray, shall inspire him to the
accomplishment of all this? Granted that
he has acquired his technic by proper
instruction and by ample opportunity
for trying out his compositions, although
such a condition does not yet exist to
my knowledge in this country — the nearest
approach to it might be the New England
Conservatory where a complete symphony
orchestra, fully manned in both the wood-
wind and brass choirs, is a working part
of the institution — what then shall be
the actual foundation upon which he is
to rear his musical structure? What is
to be the immediate and specific source
of inspiration that perchance shall en-
kindle the latent power of invention and
of creation which he may possess? This
cannot be found altogether in the hope
of winning a prize of $10,000. It cannot
even spring at once from the dream that
some day he shall hear Caruso paint
in golden notes, as upon the heavens,
the majestic curve of some pet melodic
phrase — that is, if this composer of opera
be so old-fashioned as to write melody —
nor can it arise from the dream that
some day the poetry and passion of the
incomparable Toscanini shall set or-
chestra and audience on fire with that
climatic page of his score that one mem-
orable night he heard chanted by the
stars, and has since nestled like a darling
against his heart. These are not rhap-
sodic imaginings, but estimable and proper
desires, in their due place, and doubtless
the sober history of the night watches
under many a roof tree. What then is
to be the real guiding motive, the sine
qua non of the composer? This, gentle
reader, must be the libretto.
Is it not true that each season every
theatrical manager is submerged under
dramatic manuscripts which to his prac-
ticed eye reveal an astounding technic of
the stage, a heart-gripping emotional
appeal, plots which fairly ooze with that
estimable species of magnetism, human
interest? Is it not true that all of even
the most likely and absolutely assured
successes of these embryonic marvels are
stunning and unescapable "hits" when
produced? Furthermore, is it not true
that those which do fail, do not do so
because of their theme, their method of
construction, or their style, but because
of the time of the moon, the continued
popular adoration of Mr. Roosevelt, the
unanimous re-election of Mr. Joseph
Cannon to the speakership of the House,
or on account of the conversion of the
heathen of Mars? It is not. There is
a deluge of stuff which contains perhaps
one or two good ideas; but manuscripts
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
that reveal first of all a dramatic motive
of popular or powerful appeal, a sense of
the situation that gets over the foot-
lights, skill in logical development, and
a command of pointed, gripping dialogue
— manuscripts with these qualifications in
any conspicuous degree are rare, and yet
there is still room for clever producers
of hymns, psalms, sonnets, national an-
thems and street-car advertisements.
On the twentieth of November, 1908,
Director Giulio Gatti-Casazza, of the
Metropolitan Opera House, proposed to
the board of directors of that institution
that a prize, afterwards fixed at ten thou-
sand dollars, be offered "for the best
grand opera written by a composer born
in this country." His suggestion was
immediately accepted, and the first general
announcement was made by the news-
papers the following morning. When the
competition closed, the fifteenth of last
September, twenty-five manuscripts had
been submitted to the judges. Walter
Damrosch, one of them, spent an anxious
Christmas because a package containing
some of these possible masterpieces was
stolen from an express wagon the day
before. Unfortunately the conditions of
the competition required that the names of
the composers be withheld, even from the
judges, else by the publicity attending upon
the incident, the composers would already
have been immortalized without waiting
for the public disclosure of their works.
However the lost was found, and the point
is that while the composer is bidden to
do his best with the inducement of a
generous honarium and the production
of his opera to the winner, what of the
librettist?
What is being done in this country to
seriously, practically encourage the writing
of drama? Professor George Baker, of
the chair of dramatic literature of Harvard
University is endeavoring to secure a
permanent endowment for his depart-
ment. Studying therein at the present
time is Charlton Andrews, of Indiana,
MacDowell resident fellow in dramatic
composition. Mr. Andrews came into
possession of this scholarship by winning
the competition instituted last year by
the MacDowell club of New York, an
organization of about eight hundred
members, among whom are painters,
sculptors, musicians, actors, writers and
those who are engaged or interested in
the fine arts. This organization at that
time created a fellowship in Professor
Baker's department at Harvard. On the
twentieth of last December, at the annual
Christmas festival of the club, there was
presented at the Hotel Plaza, New York,
a Christmas masque, entitled "The In-
terrupted Revels." It was in the Fifteenth
Century style and combined the drama,
music, art, history and the dance. The
music consisted of carols and madrigals
of the period, and was specially compiled
after research in the British Museum.
The British Morris Dancers trained the
members of the club in the dances of
Merry England. The masque was written
by Mr. Andrews.
Last year, John Craig, director of his
own stock company at the Castle Square
Theatre, Boston, made an offer to Harvard
University to give the sum of five hun-
dred dollars, half of which was to go as a
prize for dramatic composition, and half
to the University library for the purchase
of books treating of the history of the
English stage. The competition was
open to all undergraduates in the Uni-
versity, to members of Radcliffe College —
who are girls, and this revelation of their
sex to all those who by chance do not
know is made without insinuation, im-
pertinence or malice, as shall presently
be disclosed. It is open also to graduate
students of either institution who have
not been out of college more than one
academic year. The donor specified that
all plays must be in three, four or five
acts. Those with less were to be excluded.
Within a year after the acceptance of
the play, Mr. Craig agreed to produce it
at his theatre and to give performances
of it for one week during the regular
theatrical season. If the play should
be continued he would pay the author
a royalty. The competition closed the
first of last November. Twenty-one
dramas were submitted. Five were by
young women. The prize was awarded
to one of them — Florence Ayers Lincoln.
Mr. Craig, who was one of the judges —
Professor Baker also served — said that
the plays submitted by the girls seemed
694
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
to them superior to those of the men.
The name of Miss Lincoln's play is "The
End of the Bridge." She has described
it as "a modern play with a mild problem."
It is in three acts, and has six characters.
Mr. Craig will now bestow this prize
annually.
The Harvard Dramatic Club has also
encouraged the writing of plays. It pro-
duced on the twelfth of December a
comedy by another Radcliffe girl, Miss
Louie Stanwood, a student in the play-
writing course. Her comedy is a light
and semi-satirical piece, named "Mrs.
Alexander's Progress." This club, since
1908, has aimed to produce each year a
play written by an undergraduate, gradu-
ate or recently graduated student of
Harvard. There being no available play
last year, Percy MacKaye's "The Scare-
crow" was chosen and performed for the
first time upon any stage.
William Vaughn Moody, the deceased
playwright of the class of 1893, was active
in furthering the interests of dramatic
composition at Harvard.
The writing of plays is doubtless studied
and encouraged by the other universities
of the country and by other auspices. I
have referred at some length to the work
of these because it shows the best recent
development in this direction at Harvard
and in Bos.ton.
i*Jlt may now be argued that the subject
of the opera libretto has been left far
afield, and that it has no appreciable
relationship to the spoken drama.
As a matter of fact and of mere ob-
servation, it has a great deal to do with
the spoken drama. The time was when
any flimsy, incongruous if not reasonably
impossible series of incidents was padded,
interpolated and otherwise patched into
a musical medley called an opera, which
existed to exploit singers who were to
be admired more for their vocal agility
than for dramatic conscience. That
time is past. Submit the plot of "La
Giaconda" to any undergraduate in a
dramatic class and he — pardon me, prob-
ably she — will laugh at the absurdity of
its contrived and transparent coincidences.
If we are to have opera in English because
there are those who insist that we "must
know what it is all about^then^wejmust
have plots that hang together not merely
by a string of arias, because arias are
now out of fashion and held to be bad
form, but by reason and logic — at least
by theatrical plausibility, which is often
the good Samaritan to limping technic.
If we demand consistent and congruous
construction in a drama to be spoken,
we should demand the same in a libretto
to be sung.
Sane and sound librettos will materially
hasten the coming of the "national school"
of opera. This all the musical elect de-
voutly desire. Even music which would
transport the soul beyond the confines
of the flesh is carrying a heavy ballast
when freighted with a book about sym-
bolism, ethics, moonshine and frothy
fairy lore, written in mawkish poetry and
drab prose, English which is neither
lucid, elegant or euphonious. The writing
of the text has been too much ignored,
although "The Scarlet Letter" had an
excellent libretto by George Lathrop,
Hawthorne's son-in-law. Why not then
establish some definite auspices to develop
the librettist as well as the composer?
The probability 'is that the young man —
pardon me again, the young woman —
who has studied the laws of construction
and the models of style which underlie
and characterize the spoken drama will
have acquired something of the equip-
ment necessary to write a libretto for an
opera. The writing of good plays and its
encouragement is therefore significant.
After the libretto and the opera are
written they must be sung. Wide op-
portunities appear to be opening to young
singers of opera in English. They hear
and read the advice not to go abroad,
but to build their voices at home. How
are some of them being taught? It is a
painful truth that there are professed
teachers of singing, laden with titles,
honors and spoils, who give patent and
indisputable proof of the fact that in
plain. terms, they don't know their busi-
ness. Under their care are talented stu-
dents with good, natural voices, who,
if properly prepared, could be a credit
in several years to some opera house.
Next month it may be worth while to
consider how some of them are being pre-
pared jto^weep 'rather^ than*to sing.
DELIVERING
THE GOODS
Rev- George \\fcocl Anderson
TJDITOR'S NOTE — The Pilgrim Publicity Association of New England has
*--J become one of the liveliest organizations for the development and extension of
trade in America. Monday evening, November 21, igio, was specially dedicated to
the consideration of "Transportation" Dr. Anderson, pastor of the Union Church,
St. Louis, Missouri, was one of the notable speakers.
HE question of trans-
portation is not confined
to New England. It is
a national question in
that it confronts, in a
local way, every section
of our land. Until this
nation - wide question,
which confronts each
section of our country,
in the form of some local problem, is set-
tled, none of us can enter into the fullest
realization of our national prosperity.
It has occurred to me that there is
another phase of this transportation prob-
lem which has been overlooked. To many
I doubt not but that it is the most im-
portant phase, and that is: "What is the
easiest and quickest way to transfer a
dollar out of another man's pocket into
your own?" Now, a dollar is not a trifling
thing, and is not easily secured, as many
of us preachers can testify. A dollar should
not be lightly esteemed, and is not by
some of you, as we know by looking at
the collection plate after you have attended
service. I have known some business
men to be so stingy that they would sit
in the rear pew in order to have the interest
on their penny, while the collection plate
was being passed. A man ought to value
his money highly, for it is of great value.
I happen to have a dollar with me. I
hold it in my liand. What is it? "A
piece of paper," says one. No, more than
that. "Circulating medium," says one.
No, more than that. "Something that
you borrowed from your friend," says
another. No, more than that. That
dollar is a part of my life. I worked hard
yesterday and earned a dollar. I might
have spent it in a minute's time and been
no richer for the investment, but I did
not spend it. It was the only tangible
thing I had out of the whole day's ex-
istence. The joy, the opportunity, and
the privileges of the day had gone into
the silence of the eternity that has passed.
That dollar is my yesterday. I may spend
it, and start tomorrow bankrupt. I may
keep it and tomorrow need not work
at all, because my yesterday's dollar will
pay for the services of one who may do
the work better than myself; or, I may
work again tomorrow and the next day,
and the next, and save my yesterdays
until I have long years of yesterdays,
strong and capable of toil, who shall labor
for me and keep me in comfort when my
body is too weak to toil. A dollar is part
of a man's life, and as he guards his health
to take care of the future, so should he
guard his dollars to secure the full service
of the past. Now, when a dollar means
so much to an individual, how are you
going to transport it out of the pockets
(695 )
DELIVERING THE GOODS
of the West into your own treasuries?
This brings us two more phases of the
problem of transportation. First — how
can you get the people of the West to you?
Second — can you deliver the goods?
How can you bring the West to you?
That is easily answered — by advertising.
I have had many pleasant visits in New
England lecturing in many of your larger
cities and meeting men whose strength
of personality and power of achievement
are daily inspirations. But think not
that I was a stranger the first time I
crossed your borders. Some of you I
have known from my childhood. I have
always known your friend, W. L. Douglas,
whose benign countenance illuminates
the pages of all our daily papers. Ever
since I was taught to eat pie with a knife,
I knew your friend Rogers, for did not
the very knife that cut my lips have his
name stamped upon it? From that hour
that my sensitive fingers felt the first
suggestion of a whisker — and bid my
anxious soul arise in wonder, love and
praise, did I not know your friend, Mr.
Gillette? Think not that I was a stranger
the first time I came to New England.
I knew several of you and bought your
goods because I knew and believed in
you. But, when I consider the important
place that New England holds in the
manufacturing world and the long list
of daily necessities that 'are made here, I
am surprised that I didjiot have a wider
acquaintanceship .
New England is just awakening to the
opportunity and advantage of advertising,
and until more of your great firms begin
a nation wide campaign, so that we become
familiar with the names and characters
of the persons back of these manufactur-
ing establishments you cannot expect
to get our dollars. The fact is, that when
a man spends his money, he wants not
only the goods that are placed upon the
counter, but he wants the knowledge that
the men back of the goods are men who
are not afraid to stand in the light of public
inspection. The first problem of trans-
portation which you are to consider is
the question of advertising, that of bring-
ing the people to the threshold of your
shops and factories \eager to buy your
But advertising is not all. There is
another question of transportation to be
considered and that is, having brought
the people to you, can you deliver the
goods? I do not mean by that a question
of express or freight, but can you deliver
the goods that are worth our d611ars?
There is, on both sides of the ocean,
an advertising scheme being pushed that
is unworthy of the people of any nation.
Traveling through England, I have seen
on every side, sign and newspaper ad-
vertisements saying, "Buy only 'made
in England' goods." Our novelty shops
are crowded with goods stamped "Made
in Germany," while, here in America,
the same method is being employed and
Chicago says: "Buy only 'made in Chicago'
goods"; St. Louis says: "Buy only 'made
in St. Louis' goods"; and now New Eng-
land is taking up the same slogan and
saying: "Made in New England." Now,
I leave it to you, gentlemen of business,
if that slogan is worthy of any city or
group of states, desiring to do a national
business. Such advertising may call
attention to a certain section of the
country, but it does not increase the sale
of the goods. On the other hand, it does
tend to create sectional feeling and to
restrict one's trade to his own section. No
careful consumer cares where a thing is
made. What he wants to know is, "How
is it made?" What the West wants to
be shown is not that the article is made
in New England, but does it possess the
"New England Quality"?
P-You Pilgrims have a wonderfully com-
bined advantage and disadvantage in that
New England has always stood for the
highest possible quality. Wonderful be-
yond words is the position that New Eng-
land has held in the history of the world's
civilization. To say that an article pos-
sesses the "New England Quality" is to
say that it possesses the highest possible
degree of excellency. In statesmanship,
"The New England Quality" means the
Adamses, Franklin and James G. Blaine.
In literature, "The New England Quality"
means Emerson, Holmes, Lowell, Haw-
thorne and Longfellow. In reform "The
New England Quality" means Wendell
Phillips and William Lloyd Garrison. In
the pulpit,, "The New England Quality"
DELIVERING THE GOODS
697
means Channing, Phillips Brooks and
Theodore Parker. In invention "The
New England Quality" means Whitney
and Howe. "The New England Quality"
stands for the highest possible standard
of excellency, and it is a wonderful ad-
vantage to be the inheritors of such a
record.
* * *
But, on the other hand, there possibly
could not be any greater disadvantage,
for it is as hard to live up to a good name
as it is to live down a bad name. When a
man is said to come from the West, you
immediately compare him with a cowboy
or an Indian. When a man says he is
from New England, we immediately
associate and measure him with some
of the world's greatest characters. If a
man undertakes to fill a New England
pulpit, we measure him with Brooks and
Parker. If he enters literature, we measure
him with Emerson and Lowell. If he
enters law, we measure him with the
Adamses. If he would work reform, we
listen intently to hear the clear notes of
Puritanism that made Phillips and Garri-
son world leaders. When a man enters
business, we measure him with Oliver
Ames, whose shovels were the standard
of excellency the whole world 'round.
Now, the greatest question of transporta-
tion that you men have to face is whether
you can deliver the goods; whether you
can live up to the name you inherited,
and give us goods that are worth our
dollars. To solve this phase of transporta-
tion, by one who loves New England, his
own ancestors having come over in the
Mayflower, three things are necessary.
(I put the Mayflower statement in for
effect. Out West it would count for
nothing, for there they do not care whether
one came from the Mayflower or from a
Fall Pippin).
First — Make use of your opportunities
and show the West that while you have
beans you are not "has beens." You are
not making full use of your natural re-
sources. Your rivers are unharnessed, and
we have heard through Mr. Ives how Bos-
ton Harbor is neglected in that you have
no fleets to garner the treasures of the
Southwest. Harness your forces. If you
do not, the Vermont granite that you are
sending to mark the resting place of our
dead, will be needed at home to mark the
once historic scene of former industrial
success. For, think not that the West is
asleep. We not only make our own shoes,
but we are sending them to New England.
We are getting tired of sending our cotton
to your mills and building just as good
ones for ourselves; and pretty soon, we
people at St. Louis will dig a fourteen-
foot channel in the Mississippi and forget
that there ever was a place called Boston.
* * *
The second requisite is that you get
away from the old spirit of conservatism.
There is nothing more detrimental than
a spirit that permits one to take pride in
being conservative; for it means death
not only to the mental and physical being,
but to every enterprise with which the
name is connected. There is nothing about
conservatism to be proud of, for, in its
final analysis it is one of two things —
either dry rot or petrification. Conserva-
tism has never written a book, painted
a picture, created a building, achieved a
reform, or written a constructive law. Con-
servatism, on the other hand, has been
the enemy of every movement that has
ever been of permanent value to the world.
Conservatism in New England would
shut down every factory and stop all
progress. Your history was made not by
the conservative, but by the radical
progressive. Conservatism never could
make history. It only repeats history.
It says: "We always have done it this
way and we always will do it this way."
Suppose your fathers in the early days
had waited for precedent. Where would
we be? All the wealth and value of this
nation is the gift of men who dared to
throw precedent aside and make venture
and adventure for what they believed to
be just and right. If I remember correctly,
you had a "tea party" here once. That
was most radical, but it made history and
while, as some of the conservatives of
that day said, "We never have done it
this way," I notice that you Pilgrims by
your list of viands this evening are follow-
ing closely in their footsteps. I believe
you had a radical here by the name of
Paul Revere who performed a most won-
derful feat of transportation one midnight.
698 CITIZENSHIP FOR THE RED MAN
It was a very unprecedented thing to not by what it hopes to do; and we shall
do, but it made history, and history of watch most carefully your history to see
which you may well be proud. Con- if you are giving strength and emphasis
servatism never holds a "tea party" or to the business life of New England. This
sounds an alarm, and therefore, if you movement either means a great victory
wish to live worthy of the great name or a great defeat, for there is nothing more
you have inherited, you must cast away dangerous than the inhibition of a good
the spirit of conservatism and dare to impulse. When a good purpose suffers
make venture. from arrested development, it can never
come back in its old-time power. But
The last suggestion that I would make the next impulse will be weaker and the
to you is, remember that the world following one still weaker. Therefore, in-
measures a man or an institution, not by stead of working for numbers, although
what he or it intended to do, but by what numbers are good and essential, see that
is accomplished. You have a magnificent you have small committees to visit each
organization here, representing the busi- business man and manufacturer to secure
ness interests of this great section of our his promise to do two things: First — Ad-
land. Your plans are good; your purposes vertise more extensively, and bring the
are beyond criticism; you are hoping to do whole world to New England. Second —
great things; but the world will measure Deliver the goods that bear the mark of
this association by what it accomplishes, "The New England Quality."
CITIZENSHIP FOR THE RED MAN
By EDNA DEAN PROCTOR
A MIGHTY nation we have built
•** Of many a race, remote or kin, —
Briton and Teuton, Slav and Celt,
All Europe's tribes are wrought therein;
And Asia's children, Afric's hordes,
Millions the world would crush or flout :
To each some help our rule -affords,
And shall we bar the Red Man out?
The Red Man was the primal lord
Of our magnificent domain,
And craft, and crime, and wasting sword
Oft gained us mount and stream and plain.
And shall we still add wrong to wrong?
Is this the largess of the strong —
His need to slight, his faith to doubt,
And thus to bar the Red Man out,
Though welcoming all other men?
Nay! let us nobly build him in,
Nor rest till "ward" and "alien" win
The rightful name of citizen!
Then will the "reservation" be
Columbia's breadth from sea to sea,
And Sioux, Apache, and Cheyenne
Merge proudly in American!
Copyright, 1905, by Edna Dean Proctor
Cfncagos JJeto terminal Station
By MITCHELL MANNERING
HE ebb and flow of the
tide of travel through
the great railroad cen-
tre of Chicago gauges
the rise and progress of
the great central states
and the farther north-
west beyond any cavil
or question.
Among the many splendid structures
completed during 1911, of which Chicago
may well be proud, the new twenty million
dollar terminal station of the Chicago &
Northwestern Railway marks an epoch
like that of the Pyramid of Cheops in
Egypt or St. Peters at Rome. Its con-
struction involved the rebuilding of a
large portion of the city, and its comple-
tion further emphasizes how liberally the
great railroad corporations are providing
for the public gathering-places and quasi-
public resorts which in the olden times
were provided only by the state. No other
building in Chicago is so significant a
monument to the growth of the Middle
West, for the single railroad which under-
took at immense cost the construction of
the splendid structure has been promi-
nently identified with the growth .of that
segment of the compass leading north-
west of Chicago, reaching out to the great
granary area of the nation.
Under the spell of Horace Greeley's
famous advice, "Go West and grow up
with the country," a young telegraph
operator left Albany, New York, many
years ago, and entered the employ of
the Chicago & Northwestern Railway
with the determination to make the build-
ing up of this railroad his life work. By
a series of rapid promotions, because of
his keen and broad grasp of the necessities
of the rapidly growing and expanding
country, and the development of adequate
transportation facilities, Marvin Hughitt
was chosen president, and has for many
years been the executive head of what is
considered one of the best managed rail-
roads in the world.
Nearly every person living on the route
of the Northwestern Railroad with its
eight thousand miles of trackage, knows
of Marvin Hughitt by sight, at least.
Every employe of the line has in some
measure felt the personal influence of the
man who knows how to operate econ-
omically and effectively, and how to
expand and create traffic.
While located in a city on the outer
rim of the Northwestern system many
years ago, I remember vividly the visits
of his official car switching down to the
ore-docks or over the different feeders
that have reached out in all directions to
the mines and mills, creating business for
the road. In seeing him on these trips
it was an inspiration to observe his simple,
quiet mastery of detail, and small wondei
that the whole force, from section man
to superintendent, manifested loyal en-
thusiasm toward their president. From
the day the trim and natty young brake-
man dons his uniform for his first run,
to the closing career of the portly, gray-
haired conductor with seven stripes on
his sleeve — every stripe representing five
years of faithful service — "out on the line"
was a familiar response at the president's
office in Chicago.
Close observers of the personnel of
railroad corporations agree that the North-
western men always Seem imbued with
the spirit of their president— to give the
public the best possible service, and to
conduct their business in the interests
of the public as well as of the stockholders
of the road. Mr. Hughitt has seen longer
continuous service as a railroad president
than any other man now living, and it
was fitting that, before his retirement
from active duties "out on the line," and
his acceptance of chairmanship of the
Board of Directors, he should carry
out a long-cherished ambition, to provide
MARVIN. -HUGHITT
F«r many years President of the'Chicago & Northwestern Railway
New Chairman of the Board of Directors
CHICAGO'S NEW TERMINAL STATION
701
a public terminal station which might
remain a fitting monument to the North-
western policy as exemplified in his years
of active administration.
In touch with the remotest of his
system, quick in decision and careful in
the selection of men for responsible posi-
tions, he has made an unrivalled record
in railroad supervision. There is always
a gleam of inspiriting enthusiasm in his
blue eyes, and with it that rare smile which
has meant so much to many a young
superintendent called in to confer with
the president. Yet his stern exaction
of the best that is in his men has made
Marvin Hughitt in many ways an ideal
railway president. His iron-gray side-
whiskers, erect form, and natural dignity,
and his sharp glance, which seems to com-
pletely absorb every detail, over-awed the
careless, and inspired the ambitious.
His assimilation of an immense flood of
minute details, and his foresight in pro-
viding for the great future of his line are
perhaps best exhibited in the design and
construction of the first great Chicago
terminal station, and is the supreme tribute
of the intense loyalty and faith of the
president of the Northwestern in the
great Middle and Northern West. In
all the details of its construction, the
intention and desire to consult the com-
fort and convenience of its patrons that
has always characterized the administra-
tion of the Northwestern is unmistakably
manifest.
The new Chicago & Northwestern
Station faces the south, its Madison Street
entrance rising from an immense plat-
form, in a lofty colonnade of six Doric
granite columns, flanked on either side
by clock towers, and supporting a massive
frieze and a magnificent parapet en balus-
trade to a height of one hundred and
twenty feet. Back of this colonnade the
great arches of the entrance each open
upon a vaulted vestibule, covering over
one-half an acre of floor space, and forty
feet from floor to apex. Its impressive-
ness necessitates a second look. The
main building is of granite, in the Italian
Renaissance style of architecture, and
four stories m height. These vestibules
lead t° an iramense floor-space two hun-
^ i reet long by ninety-two feet wide,
around which the ticket and telegraph
offices, baggage, lunch and parcel-check
rooms and news-stand are ranged for
the convenience of the patrons of the
road. From the center of this floor, the
grand staircase, even more impressive
DEC
VIEW OF A PORTION OP THE CHICAGO & NORTHWESTERN
NEW STATION IN CHICAGO
I
TRAIN SHED VIEW OP THE NEW CHICAGO & NORTHWESTERN
STATION IN CHICAGO
me
3HC
AN OLD STORY
703
in its granite simplicity than the famous
Doges staircase at Venice, leads to the
great waiting-room on the level of the
track floors, a splendid apartment like a
Roman atrium, except that it lacks the
fountain and is covered by a lofty vaulted
roof, supported by free columns of light
green Greek Cippolino marble. Around
this splendid waiting-room are arranged the
dining-room, ladies' room, smoking room,
barber's shop and other conveniences.
The dining-room, whose panelled walls
are decorated with scenes portraying
the striking history and features of that
West and Northwest, with whose settle-
ment and development the Chicago &
Northwestern has been so intimately
connected, is in every detail one of the
finest as well as largest dining rooms in
the country, and it is needless to say that
its service and menus will follow the well-
known and established policy, the "best
of everything."
On the third floor, and reached by a
separate elevator system, invalids or
ladies with children can find refuge from
the bustle, noise and nervous tension
incident to the daily transportation of a
quarter of a million of human beings.
Here are tea and retiring rooms, baths,
easy chairs, lounges and emergency rooms,
where medical aid is rendered, and skilled
nurses are in attendance.
The train shed itself impresses one
as a series of steel and glazed arches,
four hundred and eighty feet long, each
of which has an open central louvre through
which the funnels of the engines discharge
their smoke in the open air. The baggage
is handled by an endless moving truck
that suggests a moving sidewalk. The
concourse through which the passenger
passes to his train is completely enclosed
in steel and, glass construction, making a
cheerful, bright vestibule or waiting room,
over three hundred feet long and sixty
wide. The entire structure is absolutely
fireproof, and with its marble and tile
floors, perfect sanitary and plumbing
arrangements, and materials which are
almost wholly non-porous and easily
cleansed, is certainly as nearly an immense
temple to Hygeia, the ancient goddess of
health, as it is a wonderful monument
to the immensity and perfection of the
transportation facilities of the day.
AN OLD STORY
I HAVE heard of poor and sad congregations, but the saddest preacher I ever knew
* went from Posey County, Indiana, to Pike County, Missouri (where John Hay dis-
covered Little Breeches and Jim Bludsoe). He was starving to death on donations of
catfish, 'possum, and a hundred-dollar salary. Finally he made up his mind to go away.
With wet eyes, he stood up in the prayer meeting to bid good-bye to his weeping
congregation.
"Brothers and sisters," he said, wiping his eyes on his red bandanna handkerchief,
"I've called you together tonight to say farewell. The Lord has called me to another
place. I don't think the Lord loves this people much; for none of you seem to die.
He doesn't seem to want you. And you don't seem to love each other; for I've never
married any of you. And I don't think you love me; for you don't pay me my salary —
and your donations are mouldy fruits and wormy apples. 'By their fruits ye shall know
them.'
"And now, brothers and sisters, I am going to -a better place. I've been appointed
chaplain to the penitentiary at Joliet. 'Where I go ye cannot come; but I go to prepare
a place for* you.' "
—From the book "Heart Throbs"
Jftrst Stb to tfje Snjureb
By H. H. HARTUNG, M. D.
BOSTON, MASS.
Major Surgeon, Medical Department, Coast Artillery Corps, M.V. M.; Fellow of the Massachusetts Medical
Society, American Medical Association, Association of Military Surgeons of the United States;
Instructor in First Aid to the Injured to the Boston Police Department, Metro-
politan Park Police and the Fall River Police Department
PART VI
ANDAGING and the
transportation of the
wounded. Bandages
are pieces of cloth of
various shapes, widths
and lengths used to
bind on and retain
dressings in their proper positions
for wounds, and splints for broken
bones; to stop bleeding, give sup-
port and immobilize parts of the
body. -Bandages are made from
different materials, such as linen,
muslin, gauze, flannel and cotton.
There are several different shaped
bandages, the Esmarch triangular, the
four-tailed and the roller bandage. The
triangular or Esmarch bandage, which was
first introduced into popular use by the
Surgeon-General Es-
march of the German
Army, in 1869, is the
ideal bandage for
First Aid work and is
more easily applied
by those unskilled in
the use of the rather
difficult roller band-
age. The triangular
bandage may be eas-
ily made by cutting
any piece of cloth
forty inches square
into two triangular
halves, and may be
made from muslin,
gauze, or linen, but
should be made pre-
ferably from a piece
of good, strong cot-
ton cloth. The tri-
angular bandage sup-
plied for the use of H. H. HARTUNG, M. D.
the Medical Department of the United
States Army and found in all First Aid
packages is made by Johnson & Johnson,
and upon it are printed illustrations, show-
ing just what to do and how to apply the
bandage in all cases of First Aid requiring
the use of the triangular bandage. This
can be washed and ironed without destroy-
ing the illustrations.
In order to become familiar with the
use of the triangular bandage, it will be
well to give a general description of it.
The longest edge of the bandage is called
the lower border, and the two sides of the
triangle are known as the side borders:
The apex of the triangle is the point, and
the other two corners are called the two
ends (see illustration number 12). The
bandage may be used as a whole, as for
instance to bandage
the head, or as a
sling, or it can be
folded into different
widths in the form
of cravats, depending
upon the part of the
body to be bandaged.
These cravats are
very useful to use as
tourniquets for stop-
ping bleeding, to
retain splints and
dressings, and also as
slings (see illustration
number 13). The tri-
angular bandage may
be fastened either
with a safety pin or
by tying the two ends
in a reef or sailor's
knot. Never tie a
granny knot, as it is
liable to slip and be-
(704)
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
705
come unfastened. The triangular bandage
may be used as a sling for injuries of
the hand, arm or shoulder, either as a
narrow or broad sling (see illustrations
numbers 14 and 15). The narrow cravat
arm sling is made by folding the triangular
bandage, as shown in illustration number
13, depending upon the width desired, and
is applied by placing one end over the
shoulder of the injured side and allowing
hang down. Now place the forearm
across the chest at about a right angle,
with the palm of the hand inward, resting
on the chest, with the thumb pointing
upward toward the chin, then bring the
lower end up across the outside of the
forearm, pass it over the shoulder of the
injured side and tie the two ends behind
the neck in a knot, or pin with a strong
safety pin. Draw the point of the bandage
POINT
END
END
''\
B
XV
Method of folding triangular bandage, broad and narrow, to make cravats
the other end to hang down in front. The
injured arm should then be bent at about
a right angle, in front of the cravat, with
the thumb pointing upward toward the
chin; the end hanging down should then
be drawn up in front of the arm and over
the opposite shoulder and tied at the
back of the neck (see illustration number
14). The broad sling is applied by placing
the point of the bandage below and be-
yond the elbow of the injured arm and
the upper end across the top of the op-
posite shoulder, letting the other point
forward over the elbow, pulling it snugly,
and pin with a safety pin. This makes
the ideal First Aid dressing for any injury
to the upper extremity, including a broken
collar-bone, dislocated shoulder, fracture
of the upper arm bones, dislocation of the
elbow joint, fracture of the bones of the
fore-arm and sprained wrist (see illustra-
tion number 15).
Application of the triangular bandage
as a whole to the head. This is a valuable
application for scalp wounds, particularly
where there is bleeding. In applying it
706
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
to the head, it is best to form a hem, along
the lower border, about one and a half
to two inches wide, as this makes it hold
better. The hem may be turned either
inside or outside. Place the lower edge
of the bandage, with the middle of the
14
Narrow arm sling and the application
of the triangular bandage to the
shoulder, hand and elbow
hem over the center of the forehead with
the lower edge of the hem on a line with
the eyebrows (always see that it is in this
position, otherwise it will slip off the head).
The point of the bandage should hang
over the center of the neck, at the back.
Now carry both ends backwards around
the head, just above the ears, being sure
that the point of the bandage is under-
neath the two ends. Cross the two ends
and bring them .around to the front of
the head again and tie in a firm knot over
the center of the forehead. Next pull
the point of the bandage downward, so
that the bandage fits the head snugly,
then turn it up over the two points and
pin with a safety pin (see illustrations num-
bers 16 and 17). This bandage, properly
applied to the head, makes a very secure
dressing and will remain for several days
without coming off.
For small wounds of the head, or where
an eye or an ear has been injured and it
is not necessary to use the triangular
bandage as a whole, it may be folded up
in the form of cravats (as already sug-
15
Broad arm sling
gested) of different widths, depending
upon the part to be bandaged (see illustra-
tion number 18).
- For Wounds or Injuries of the Shoulder.
The triangular bandage should be applied
by placing the lower border downward
across the middle of the arm, the point
resting on the top of the shoulder or along-
side of the neck. The two ends should
now be brought around the^arm, crossed
on the inner side and tied on the outside.
The forearm, on the same side as the in-
jured shoulder, should then be bent at
a proper angle and a narrow sling applied,
then draw the point of the triangular
bandage under and around the cravat
Application of triangular bandage to the head
Method of carrying patient
in an upright manner
Position No. 2
Position No. 3 27
Position No. 4 28
Position No. 5 29
708
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
at the point where it passes around the
neck and fasten with a safety pin (see
illustration number 14).
bring the two ends around the wrist, bind-
ing down the point, cross the ends and
bring them back again, tying in a reef knot
over the point; then draw the
point up so that the bandage
fits snugly, turn over and fasten
with a safety pin (see illustra-
tion number 19).
For Wounds and Injuries of
the Palm and the Back of the
Hand, where it is Not Necessary
to Cover the Fingers. Fold a nar-
row cravat, place the centre of
the cravat over a sterilized com-
press applied to the wound,
bring the ends around the hand
and cross them on the back ob-
liquely; then bring them over
the wrist forward, cross them
in front and carry them back
again around the wrist and tie
(see illustration number 20).
This is for a wound on the
palm of the hand.
For a wound or an injury to
the back of the hand, reverse
this process.
For a Wound or Injury on the
Hip. This requires two trian-
gular bandages and is applied in
a similar way as at the shoulder.
First, fold a narrow cravat and
20
The triangular bandage for the whole hand
For Wounds ^and Injuries of the Hand.
There are two ways of applying the tri-
angular bandage to the hand, either where
the whole hand is to be covered, or where
a small portion of the hand
has to be covered. To band-
age the whole hand, spread
out a triangular bandage,
place the hand upon it palm
downward, the fingers point-
ing toward the point of the
bandage, and the wrist on
the centre of the lower bor-
der. Now turn the point
over and backward, carrying
it down over the wrist, then
tie it around the waist like a belt, with the
reef knot on the opposite side to the injury.
Now lay a triangular bandage across the
outside of the hip, with its lower border
across the middle of the thigh,
the point upward. Pass the
two ends around the thigh,
crossing them, and tie in a
reef knot or fasten with safety
pins on the outside of the
thigh. Now pass the point
under the belt, bring it over
and fasten with a safety pin
(see illustration number 21).
For Wounds or Injuries to
the Leg, from the Hip down to
Triangular bandage for the hip
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
709
the Foot. The bandage can be applied in
the form of a narrow cravat, passed around
the leg several times and tied on the oppo-
site side to the injury so that the knot does
not press into the wound.
For Wounds or Injuries to the Foot.
Place the foot in the centre of the trian-
gular bandage with the toes toward the
point. Now carry the point upward
and over the instep, then take both
ends and bring them forward around
the ankle, to the front and over the
point, cross them and carry around
the ankle; cross them again behind,
catching the lower border of the
bandage; bring them forward again
and tie in front of the ankle. Now
bring the point down over the knot
and fasten below with a safety pin
(see illustration number 22).
The Four -Tailed Bandage can be
made out of a strip of muslin, cot-
ton, or gauze, one and one-half yards
long and about four or five inches
wide. This should be folded length-
wise in the centre, and torn from
both ends to within two or three
inches of the centre of the bandage.
This bandage is useful in treating
fracture of the lower jaw and injuries
to the scalp. When applied to the
jaw, the centre of the bandage
should be placed directly over the
chin; the lower tails are then carried up
over the top of the head and tied. The
upper tails are carried backward and tied
at the back of the neck. This style of
bandaging may be readily prepared even
by an amateur from an ordinary four-inch
roller bandage.
When the four-tailed bandage is applied
to the top of the head it should be con-
siderably broader than when used on the
lower jaw, and should be torn from a
piece of cloth anywhere from eight to
twelve inches in width, and torn in the
same manner as previously des-
cribed. The bandage is then placed
on top of the head, the two front
ends to be carried backward and
tied firmly at the back of the
neck, while the two rear ends are
brought forward and tied very
snugly underneath the chin (see
illustration number 23).
TRANSPORTATION OP THE WOUNDED
Lifting, Carrying, and Conveying the
Sick and Injured. It is fully as important
to know how to properly carry and move
a sick or injured person as to know how
to apply First Aid treatment, particularly
those persons who have been rendered
unconscious and those who have been
so injured that it is impossible for
them to walk. Transportation may
„ be effected by the use of a stretcher,
V l\ or one or more persons carrying the
injured party. The litter is by all
means the best method and should
always be, employed, if practicable,
and particularly for persons suffering
from severe injuries, such as broken
legs and all unconscious conditions.
Carrying the Injured by Means
of a Single Bearer. This method of
transportation is useful in slight
injuries where there are no bones
broken and when the person is not
fully unconscious and can render
some assistance himself.
Supporting with One Arm Around
Waist and One Arm of the Injured
Around the Bearer's Neck. The bearer
places his shoulder under the injured
man's armpit on the sound side, the
patient passes his arm behind the
back of the bearer's neck and over
the distant shoulder; the bearer
then grasps the wrist of the patient's arm
which is over his shoulder with the hand
of that side, and with his other arm he
encircles firmly the patient's waist. The
bearer is in this way able to entirely support
the patient should he become faint (see
illustration number 24).
Pick-a-Back. This method is impracti-
cable when the patient is unconscious, as
it is necessary for the patient to be able
to place himself in the proper position.
The injured should place himself on the
bearer's back with his arms over the
bearer's shoulders. The bearer
should then stoop slightly so as to
get both his arms well under the
patient's knees and grasp with one
hand the patient's wrist on the
opposite side, thus preventing him
from slipping off. This method is
best adapted for carrying children
and lightly built persons.
Triangular
bandage for
the foot
Pour-tailed
bandage for
top of head
710
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
Carrying Across the Back. This method
of carrying by single bearer is the one
method which is particularly well adapted
to carrying unconscious persons, especially
those who have been overcome by smoke
or gas, and have to be carried in such a
way as to leave one hand of the bearer
free in order that he may grope or feel his
way through dark or smoky
rooms and passages, or where
he is obliged to carry a
person down a ladder or fire
escape. This method is, how-
ever, not applicable to a per-
son of whom the extremities
are injured, for example,
where an arm or leg is brok-
en. This method is known
as the Fireman's Lift.
There are several different
steps necessary in placing
the patient in position on
the bearer's back, and in order to make it
clear to everyone we will illustrate each
of these different steps.
First. Kneel on both - knees at the
patient's head, facing him, turn patient
over face downward, straighten the arms
down to the sides. Position No. 1 (see
illustration number 25).
Second. Pass your hands under his
body, grasping him under the armpits,
then raise the body as high as possible
in the kneeling position and allow it to
rest on one of your knees.
Position No. 2 (see illustration
number 26).
Third. Pass both arms
around his waist and lift him
to an upright position, with
the body inclined toward your
right shoulder. Position No. 3
(see illustration number 27).
Fourth. Grasp his right hand
with your left hand, throwing
his right arm around your neck;
now stoop over and place your
head underneath the patient's
body; at the same time pass
your right arm between or
around the patient's legs,
bringing his weight well on
to the centre of the back. Po-
sition No. 4 (see illustration
number 28).
Four-handed seat
Method of carrying patient
by means of the four-
handed seat
Fifth. Then grasp the patient's right
hand or wrist with your right hand,
balance the body carefully on the shoulders,
and rise to an upright position. Position
No. 5 (see illustration number 29).
Carrying by Two Bearers. This is an
easier and more simple method of trans-
portation and may be effected by means of
hand seats, improvised seats,
and in a horizontal position.
The Four -Handed Seat,
called by children "lady to
London," or "lady's chair,"
is suitable for patients who
are able to support them-
selves by placing their arms
over the bearers' shoulders.
Each bearer should grasp his
left wrist in his right hand,
the other's right wrist in
his left hand, with the back
of the hands uppermost (see
illustration number 30). Stoop down and
pass the seat thus formed under the hips
of the patient, who, having seated him-
self firmly on the seat, should pass both
arms around the bearers' shoulders as
they stand up in the erect position (see
illustration number 31).
Carrying by Twos in the Horizontal Posi-
tion— sometimes known as the fore-and-
aft carry. This method is useful in cases
where the patient is unconscious, and
where the upper and lower extremities are
not severely injured or broken.
One bearer should stand at the
patient's head, the other be-
tween the feet. The bearer at
the head should pass his arms
underneath the patient's arm-
pits and interlock the ringers
in front of the patient's chest;
the other bearer should pass
one hand around each knee and
carry a leg under each arm (see
illustration number 32) .
The patient should never be
carried face downward by the
arms and legs.
Carrying by Means of an Or-
dinary Chair. This method is
particularly useful in carrying
patients up and down stairs,
especially if the stairs are nar-
row and have a number of short
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED
711
32
turns; also for getting an invalid on and
off a railroad car. The patient should be
lifted onto the chair and well wrapped in
blankets ; the front bearer should then face
toward the stairs, and grasp the top of the
back of the chair from behind, tilting the
chair backward or toward him, in order to
let the patient's back rest firmly against
him, in a semi-reclining
position. .The second
bearer should face the
patient, and grasp the
front legs of the chair
low down, both bearers
lifting together. Carry-
ing down stairs, reverse
the positions.
Use of the Litter. A
litter is the ideal form of
transportation in First
Aid work, and, when it
is possible, one of the
various kinds of litters
manufactured and used
in hospitals and by the
United States Hospital
Corps is the best; but
when these are unob-
tainable we must be able to improvise
one from material that is handy, such as
a light door, window shutter, or cot-bed.
Litters are frequently constructed by using
an overcoat, turning the sleeves inside
out; buttoning the coat over the sleeves
and passing a pole through each sleeve.
In the woods a litter may be improvised
from branches of trees, held together by
grapevines or handkerchiefs, and covered
with ferns, leaves and grass. It is never
advisable or safe to carry an injured person
in loose blankets, bed clothing, curtains or
rugs, held at the corners by bearers, as one
of the corners can easily slip, or the mate-
rial tear and precipitate the patient to
the ground. Stretchers may be carried
by two, three, or four persons. When
carried by two, one person should be at
Method of carrying patient by means of
the fore and after carry
the head and one at the foot of the litter.
When three or four carry, there should be
one at the head, one at the foot, and one
or two at the side.
Where only one person is available the
head of the litter should be held and the
foot of the litter allowed to drag on the
ground. This, however, is a poor method
of transportation and
should never be used
when a great distance
has to be covered. The
following rules should
be carefully observed by
those engaged in carry-
ing a stretcher:
Always test the
strength of the litter,
especially an improvised
one, before placing an
injured person upon it.
The bearers of a
stretcher should be as
near the same height as
possible; if there is any
difference, the taller and
stronger man should be
at the head.
A stretcher should be carried by the
hands or suspended by straps from the
shoulders. Never carry a stretcher, when
loaded, upon the shoulders; it frightens
the patient and he might fall off very
easily, especially if one of the bearers
should stumble.
The bearers should not keep step but
break step, the one in front starting off
with his right foot and the one behind
with his left.
The injured should be carried feet first;
in going up a hill or up stairs the head
should be in front, and the reverse in
descending, except in case of a broken
thigh or leg, when the feet should be first
in going up and last in coming down, to
keep the weight of the body off the
injured limb.
In conclusion the writer would say that he trusts these articles may be the means of saving
some lives and alleviating some of the suffering of humanity. These articles have covered
almost all cases of emergencies that may arise. However, if there are those who should desire
to go into the subject deeper, they can do so by sending for the author's book to the Boston
Society of Instruction in First Aid. Price, 50c postage paid.
By JOSEPH BONDY
""THE sob of toil-worn children
* The back-ache, and the tear,
That fill the nights with horror
And fill the days with fear;
The noise of crashing wheels,
That maim and crush as well,
Some people call it labor,
But others call it hell.
The falling of a woman
To a depth no man may name,
Where love and home and honor
Are all engulfed in shame;
No heart may reach to help her,
In a foulness none can tell,
Some call it prostitution,
But others call it hell.
The groping after manhood
To the place each one should win;
The struggle after knowledge
That saves the world from sin;
The heartache and the sorrow,
That only he can tell,
When some will call it failure,
And others call it hell.
And moiling, shame, and failure
Each unto each may come;
And the coward's heart will waver
Or the craven's strength grow numb;
For the struggles of life are bitter
Yet they teach life's lesson well;
That some of the paths to Heaven
May lead through the toils of Hell .
Trades
THE APOTHECARY OR DRUGGIST
By Charles Winslow Hall
*HERE is no class of mod-
ern retailers that have
brought the art of at-
tracting and pleasing the
public to greater perfec-
tion than the American
apothecary or "dispens-
ing druggist" of the small town or city of
the present day. His handsome store is so
charmingly decorated, beautifully lighted
by day and dazzlingly illuminated at night ;
furnished with shelves, counters, tables
and seats in the most lavish style of busi-
ness convenience and taste, with a great
soda fountain, a marvel of costly marbles
and gilt and silvered metallic ornaments
and fittings, thick plate mirrors and ar-
tistic accessories, and contains such a
stock of goods so varied and attractive
that it becomes the favorite resort of a
multitude of liberal pleasure-seekers. It
is only now and then that one is suddenly
reminded that graver and more tragical
interests busy the careful brains and
fingers at work behind the handsome
frosted and decorated glass screen that
shuts out from public view and possible
interference the dispensing department.
Indeed, it is safe to say that the ex-
penditure made to attract and satisfy the
demand for soda fountain beverages and
compound ices, and the trade in toilet
and stationery specialties, bric-a-brac,
postal cards, photographic supplies, con-
fectionery, cigars, etc., immensely exceeds
that part of the investment applied to the
purchase of drugs and the almost innumer-
able necessities of the druggist's art.
While it can by no means be claimed that
the dispensatory of today is in any way in-
ferior in comparison with other up-to-
date businesses, the development of the
aerated beverage trade, of proprietary
and package remedies and curative ap-
pliances, have made the interior of an
American drug store of the best class so
great a contrast to one of a generation
back that it scarcely seems possible that
both have primarily existed to furnish
material for the prosecution of that
eternal war against disease and death
which men have waged unceasingly from
the beginning of human history.
It will doubtless interest both the public
and the profession to trace from what
ancient and mysterious beginnings the
dispenser or compounder of medicines
arose, to become one of the most impor-
tant and central features of all local trade,
and the creator of a class of tradesmen
whose chief business was to prepare and
sell the medicines prescribed by the
physicians, is of comparatively modern
origin.
Egypt, Greece and Rome undoubtedly
had dealers skilled in the preparation of
perfumes, philtres, pigments, cosmetics,
cordials and too often poisons, but there
is little to show that such men dealt largely
in medicines, unless they themselves were
(713)
714
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
both the givers of advice and the com-
pounders of the remedy. The word apothe-
cary comes from the Latin apothecarius,
through the old French, apotecaire and
Mediaeval English, apotecarie.
While it is impossible to say that the
nations of Northern Europe had no special
dealers in drugs and simples, it is very
unlikely that there were enough of this
class to be generally recognized as a factor
in social and business life. Indeed the
frequency with which the "wise woman,"
"witch wife," "white witch," etc., are
spoken of in both Latin and Norse liter-
ature compels the belief that, as a rule, the
THE ADEPTS OP BOLOGNE
regular or irregular practitioner kept on
hand and compounded most of his own
medicines.
The exception to this rule in northern
Europe was the grocer, called in old Eng-
land the "spicerer" or "pepperer," whose
trade with foreign lands brought him
consignments of spices, oils, roots, dyes
and drugs unknown to the simpler pharma-
copoeia of the Saxon and Gothic peoples.
In time, but at no early date, a certain
class of these were known as apothecaries,
and in Scotland as "pottingers" or "pot-
tingars." The "pepperers" and "spicer-
ers" of London were first incorporated as
The Company of Grocers in 1341, by King
Edward III, and was, as usual, granted a
coat of arms — the crest a camel supported
by two gryphons; above them a shield
bearing nine cloves or peppercorns in
gold, with the motto, "God Give Grace."
A certain number of these had attained
to medical skill in the use and preparation
of native and also foreign simples imported
and kept for sale, and wsre known as
"apothecaries," one of whom, Coursus de
Gangeland, was granted a pension for
life for attending King Edward III while
sick in his Scottish 'campaigns, and was
termed in the grant "an apothecarie of
London."
In time the necessity of regulating the
sale of poisons and powerful medicines
was recognized, and in 1564 it was en-
acted that "apothecaries and their stuff
shall be under the search of the College
of Physicians." In 1607 James I formally
incorporated the apothecaries with the
grocers; and ten years later, at their
petition and on the advice of his favorite
physician, granted an order of incorpor-
ation to "The Master, Warden and So-
ciety of the Art and Mystery of Apothe-
caries of London," to such of the Society
of Grocers as were considered worthy of
the trust.
The coat of arms of the new society
bore on a shield Apollo with his head
radiant, bearing in his left hand a bow and
and in his right an arrow and supplanting
or treading upon a serpent. Above the
shield a helmet, thereupon a mantle
(veil) and for a crest, upon a wreath of
their colors, a rhinoceros supported by
two unicorns armed (horned) and un-
gulated (hoofed). Upon a compartment
to make the achievement complete, this
motto, set forth in Ovid as the declaration
of Apollo himself: "Opiferque Per Urbem
Dicor" ("Throughout the World I am
Called the Help-Bringer" ) .
Under this act of incorporation, all
grocers and others were forbidden to keep
shops for retailing medicines and nostrums,
the sale of which must be entirely under
the management of the "Master, Warden
and Fellows of the Apothecaries Company,"
who were empowered to search all shops
in order to destroy all such drugs as were
unfit for use and to levy fines on trans-
gressors. In 1624 this jurisdiction was
extended to a district seven miles beyond
the limits of London, and Sir Edward
Coke suggested that they should have
"the sole right of preparing those medi-
cines that require art and skill and are
proper unto them."
Long before this timeLthe "physicians"
had sought to restrain the "spicerers" and"
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
715
"pepperers" from selling medical com-
modities, and now the physicians, grocers
and apothecaries were engaged in a very
pretty triangular fight in which the doc-
tors sought to prevent the grocer from
selling drugs at all, and the apothecaries
should practice as a physician or surgeon"
unless duly approved by an examining
board, and so many unfortunates died
because they could not pay for advice
or costly drugs or receive aid from the
laymen and old women who had been
APOTHECARIES GUILD, COURT ROOM, LONDON, ENGLAND
from selling except to those for whom a
doctor had prescribed. The apothecaries
insisted on selling to whom they pleased,
and practiced medicine as much as pos-
sible; and the grocers retaliated by prose-
cuting such unlicensed apothecaries as
sold wines and spirits as medicines, and
from time to time the sellers of adulter-
ated and fraudulent remedies. But Henry
VIII in 1511 had decreed "that no person
the main reliance of the "borrel folk,"
that in 1542 another act allowed any
person to aid a sufferer, and an apothecary
to sell remedies to any customer (provided
that he made no charge for advice) and
this act, supplemented by the decisions of
the English courts, is practically the law
today. The acerbity of these disputes
was immensely increased by the fact that
almost everything that could be swallowed
716
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
or applied was in that age considered a
remedial agent of more or less power.
Certainly there was nothing in the shops
of the "Pepperers of Soper's Lane" or the
"Spicerers of the Warde of Chepe" that
did not in some way figure in the cumbrous
and nauseous panaceas of that era. From
the cask of sack or canary to the red
herrings they might help to wash down;
nay, from the thief going by to his death
on the gallows to the adder coiling his
scaly folds by the roadside, there was
nothing which was not or at least might
not be used as "medicine."
King Mithridates of Pontus was fabled
to be so skilled in simples that he defied
ANCIENT METHOD OP DISTILLATION
poisons and almost became immortal.
It was claimed that the recipe for this
precious remedy had been preserved, and
under the name of "Mithridate" it was
largely exhibited in quarter-ounce doses up
to the close of the Eighteenth Century. It
contained forty-four ingredients, including
most of the spices and condiments, many
gums and a large amount of honey.
"Venice Treacle" was, however, the
crowning triumph of the apothecary's skill
and contained from seventy-three to one
hundred "ingrajiencies," as the late Charlie
Dempsey used to say, including a much
larger proportion of opium than "Mith-
ridate." One prescription runs as follows:
Troches of squills, six ounces; long
pepper, strained opium and dried vipers,
of each three ounces; cinnamon, balsam
of Gilead, or expressed oil of nutmeg, of
each two ounces; agaric, florentine, orris
root, water germander, red roses, navew
seed, extract of liquorice, of each one and
one-half ounces; spikenard, saffron, amo-
mum, myrrh, cost us or zedoary (both
East Indian aromatics), camel's hay (a
kind of rush), of each an ounce.
Cinquefoil, root, rhubarb, ginger, In-
dian leaf or mace, Cretan dittany leaves,
horehound, catamint, French lavender,
black pepper, Macedonian parsley seed,
olibanum, Chio turpentine, wild valerian
root, of each six drachms; gentian root,
Celtic nard, spignel, leaves of poly moun-
tain (kind of mint), of St. John's wort, of
ground pine tops, of creeping germander
with the seed, the fruit of the balsam tree,
or in its stead cubebs, anise seed, sweet
fennel seed, the lesser cardamon seeds
freed from their husks, seeds of bishop's
weed, of hart wort, of treacle or mithridate
mustard, juice of the rape of cistus, acacia
or in its stead Japan earth, gum arabic,
strained storax, strained sagapennum,
Lemnian earth or in its stead Bole Armenic
or French bole, green vitriol, calcined, of
- each one-half ounce.
Root of creeping or of long birth-root,
tops of lesser centaury, seeds of the carrot
of Crete, opoponax, strained galbanum,
Russia castor, Jew's pitch, or in its stead
white prepared amber, root of sweet flag,
of each two ounces. Of clarified honey,
three times the weight of all the other
materials.
The opium dissolved in wine was mixed
with the heated honey, and the gums were
melted together in another vessel and the
oil of nutmeg added. Into this aromatic
mixture the warm honey was slowly
dropped, at first a spoonful at a time and
later more rapidly, after which the other
ingredients, having been finely powdered,
were gradually added before the medi-
cated honey cooled. Both these "shot-
gun remedies" were largely relied upon to
avert or cure the great plague of London
in 1664-65, which destroyed about 100,000
people in that city.
It will not surprise the reader to learn
that as late as 1750 a prominent London
apothecary was complained of for selling
to the complainant both "Mithridate"
and "Venice Treacle" out of the same pot,
and further that either of these ancient
and precious remedies were evidently lack-
ing their more valuable components; the
cheaper ingredients, such as anise seed,
being especially in evidence. Other reme-
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
717
dies, recommended as late as 1657, were
"the Magiestery of Human Blood," duly
digested and nine times distilled, which
"taken inwardly and applied outwardly,
easeth pains, and cureth most diseases."
Vipers "for the purifying of the blood,
the flesh and the skin; and consequently
cleanseth of all diseases therein." Other
preparations of the droppings of cattle,
etc., are too disgusting for further reference.
APOTHECARIES GUILD HALL, LONDON, ENGLAND
The same learned physician, a contem-
porary of Governor John Winthrop and
Judge Sewall, directs the use of Elixir of
Mummy as a preventive against all in-
fections; Essence of Man's Brains for
epilepsy; Spirit of Human Cranium for
gout, dropsy, an infirm stomach, etc.;
Oil of Snakes and Adders for deafness;
Quintessence of Snakes, Adders and
The early remedies of the world were
mainly vegetable simples accompanied
generally by the power of religious conse-
cration or heathen incantations, amulets
and charms. Egyptian dispensers, about
B. C. 1500, had produced strychnine
or nux vomica (hydrocyanic or prussic
acid) "the poison of the peach" with
which princes and other criminals of
718
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
elevated social position were allowed to
execute themselves to avoid public scandal
and family disgrace, and numerous lesser
drugs, such as conium, scammony, elat-
erium, aconite, aloes, senna, manna, etc.
Even the ferocious Scythians contributei
THE ALCHEMIST, THE FATHER OF
MODERN CHEMISTRY
to Grecian medicine the powerful virtues of
Indian hemp and the still popular liquorice.
The Persian Magi also used vegetable
infusions, etc., but declared that the herbs
must be gathered, not only at the time
when their virtues were in perfection but
with suitable religious ejaculations, and
pulled with the left hand from behind the
gatherer.
Costly medicines were commonly pre-
scribed for those wealthy enough to pur-
chase them. .For instance, "An ounce
of pearls in a cordial emulsion; another
of four or five ounces of fresh peach
kernels ordered in early summer; prepared
bees, ordered in mid-winter; a restorative
electuary of parrot's tongues and hawk's
livers" were among the extravagant and
costly medicaments of the Sixteenth and
Seventeenth Centuries. Some of the pre-
scriptions of that era cost five pounds
sterling a pint, and that was an enormous
sum in comparison with what it is con-
sidered today.
Up to the time of Galen, roots, barks
and leaves of herbs, with seeds and spices
formed the entire materia medica. Aescula-
pius or Asclepias, the fabled son of Apollo
and Coronis, and fellow-pupil of Achilles,
Jason, Hercules and other Grecian he-
roes who were fostered by the wise cen-
taur, Chiron, is said to have been the
first great observer who drew from the
vegetable world the powerful agents
which have by turns blessed and cursed
humanity. Leeches of his house for many
generations practiced in his name and
prescribed his remedies, and this was the
almost universal practice until about the
Fifteenth Century of our era, when mineral
preparations began to come into use.
Hippocrates of Greece used powerful
purgatives, diuretics and sudorifics, re-
lieved headaches with a vegetable snuff,
and prescribed the juice or gum of the
white poppy, white and black hellebore
and elaterium. Galen, who was long
considered an authority by the learned,
denounced all mineral remedies as poisons,
and seems to have largely used musk,
rhubarb, castoreum, camphor, the acid
juice of tamarinds, ginger, zedoary root
and like 'organic remedies. Gold he used
not as medicine but to coat some of his
pills and boluses, a device sometimes
revived by the quacks of the Twentieth
Century.
From these and other pioneers in the
art of official botany, we derive that world-
wide belief in the virtues of a host of vege-
DEATH OF BOMBASTES PARACELSUS
table remedies, which, however abused
or debased by combination with nauseous
ingredients, or cabalistical and necromantic
farrago, have furnished humanity with its
chief weapons against pain, sickness and
death. Our Norse, Celtic and Saxon
ancestors up to the time of the Norman
conquest, while relying too greatly on
Odinic Runes, Galdra or incantations,
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
719
and druidic spells and ceremonies, pos-
sessed a great knowledge of simples, in-
cluding not a few of foreign origin. These,
used chiefly in the shape of infusions,
embrocations, and as salves and oint-
ments, or less frequently as cordials or
mingled in wine or ale, included many
which are still used, and some familiar
plants whose virtues are no longer recog-
nized. Among those commonly used by
the English people were:- Henbane, dock,
gentian, nasturtium, beet, strawberry,
marsh mallow, hoarhound, white poppy,
comfrey, heliotrope, peony, verbena, clover,
woad, celandine, marigold, groundsel, fern,
gladiolus, couch or twitch -grass, rosemary,
wood chervil, savin, snapdragon, bramble,
pennyroyal, catmint, marjoram, wormwood,
coriander, portulaca, lily-root, milkweed,
rue, ivy, southernwood, hellebore, foxglove,
THE HOME APOTHECARY
elder, cummin, larkspur, pansy, peony, yar-
row, nettle, water-cress, lily of the valley,
feverfew, mullein, nightshade, spearmint,
lettuce, hemp, fennel, parsley, thyme,
violet leaves, etc. These "worts" and a
host of others were in use in Saxon Eng-
land, and have to a greater or less extent
remained family remedies on the farms
to this day. Curiously enough the use of
a tea of freshly cut brown violet leaves
has been strongly recommended as a cure
for cancer, and was described in the
Lancet of 1906, as singularly effective in
some cases. The mullein, poor, strag-
gling denizen of worn-out Cape Cod
pastures, is declared to be of singular
efficacy in helping wasting babies to retain
and digest the nourishment they would
otherwise reject. Other simples will re-
call to the memories of our readers the
simple lore of earlier days when "wort-
cunning," as our Anglo-Saxon ancestors
"OPIFERQUE PER ORBEM DICOR "
Coat of Arms, London Apothecaries
called a knowledge of herbs, was a neces-
sary accomplishment in the "simple life"
of our fathers.
Today the nauseous draughts and huge
drenches, the hard, sticky salves, great
boluses and bitter pills and powders, are
seldom compounded by the apothecary,
and life or death hang, humanly speaking,
on the exhibition of pleasant medicines
and infinitesimal pills.
The dispensatories grow swollen and
unwieldy with new remedies, and the
chemist adds yearly new mineral salts,
and vegetable preparations, drawn from
every country under heaven, and more or
less accredited by savage experiment and
use, and* scientific analysis and observa-
tion. Ever the proportion of cures in the
world's hospitals grows larger, and the
pains and weariness of mortal sickness are
more completely alleviated; so that the
modern apothecary may well repeat the
ancient motto of his calling: "Throughout
the world I am called the Helpbringer."
Something should be said in this con-
nection of the alchemists or philosophers,
720
'CHEQUAMEGON"
who in their consuming thirst for knowledge
became men apart from their kind, and
too often, it is to be feared, willing at least
to barter salvation for eternal manhood,
or unbounded wealth. The awful ex-
periments which their teachers recom-
mended, and the strange noises, odors and
apparatus which were a part of their
daily labors, with the more or less frequent
fatalities resulting from unexpected ex-
plosions and deadly gases, added fuel to the
prejudices of men in those ages when every
strange event was attributed to the grace
of God and His Saints, or the malice of
the devil and his demons. The church
itself, never prompt to recognize authority
or influence outside its pale, seldom exer-
cised charity, much less generosity to-
ward the alchemist. As a result we have
innumerable legends of bargains with the
Great Adversary, in which the priceless
jewel of the immortal soul was pledged in
repayment for the aid of "the Prince of
this world." So the popular belief
recognized the fatal compact, the unholy
triumph of forbidden arts, the brief en-
joyment of ill-gotten wealth and power,
and finally the terrible culmination of the
arch -fiend's triumph when the swart
hound of hell appears to rend the trembling
body limb from limb, and drag the shriek-
ing soul down to perdition.
Doubtless there were many terrible
fatalities in the early days of research
and experiment; even today science claims
its victims in laboratory and factory.
But it is to the labors and research of
such men that the apothecary of today
owes his most useful drugs and mediums,
and the knowledge that enables him to
do safely what it cost life and limb to
perfect, and much obloquy and miscon-
struction to commend to the mass of
mankind.
CHEQUAMEGON »
By WILLIAM MCGRATH
IN the gloaming, hushed and lonely,
* Lies the fair Chequamegon;
In whose waters — mirrored only-
Bright stars twinkle one by one.
By thy side I wooed my sweetheart,
In the days no more to be.
Oh, I loved, I did adore,
But I'll wander nevermore,
Doling kisses, on thy shore,
Oh, thou lovely inland sea!
Chequamegon! Chequamegon!
Lull me with thy murmur deep;
Like the spirits from Kakagon
I would on thy bosom weep,
Where I wooed my lovely sweetheart
In the days forever flown.
Is there sweetness in my sorrow?
Yes. My weary heart would borrow
Hope from some serener morrow,
When my love may hear my moan.
SOME POPUIAR.SONGS
AND A GROUP OF APARTMENTS
Grace A^nes Thompson
HE words of a popular
song floated out on the
morning air. "Love
me, and the world is
mine," sang the rich
contralto. Bob Wal-
ters, the reporter,
perched on the rail of a
tiny balcony under his
window, lazily smoked
a cigarette or two be-
fore catching the 11
o'clock car for his office, and kept a cau-
tious eye on a bright spot just beyond the
window-frame across the court one story-
above, which he knew to be sunshine glint-
ing on her hair. It wasn't the first time
by any means that he had sat there and
watched her and thanked his stars that
her piano was so near the window, and
that his landlady had relet the front room
and had made him take a side one.
Between 9:15 and 10:30 every morning
she practised, ending always with a few
minutes of her delightful singing. The
first bar of music had become therefore
the cue to stop banging out "short fiction"
on his typewriter and clamber on to what
he had nicknamed his "second gallery
seat." From there he had usually a fas-
cinating profile-view of her pretty face,
with an occasional glimpse of a rounded
arm when she turned the sheets of music.
Four times also something had attracted
her attention out of the window and her
glance had encountered his — accidentally,
of course; no one would suspect Bob
Walters of being on that balcony for any
other purpose than to smoke cigarettes,
enjoy a view of the shrubs in the court
beneath and the patch of blue above, and
make infrequent scribblings on a paper pad
with an officious looking pencil.
"I only know I love you;
Love me, and the world is mine,"
came the chorus again, lingering softly
on the last line.
"Her favorite song, I should think,"
was the reportorial soliloquy.
At the same time his news-eye noted
that the performance was over — short-
ened ten entire, disappointing minutes.
The girl was leaving the piano. He
stretched himself erect and leaned for
a moment against the brick wall, humming
thoughtfully the words of her chorus and
looking down into the court where Mike
McGee, the janitor, had just appeared.
And that was how he came to witness
the rest of what happened.
Perhaps it was because the singing had
ceased earlier than usual, and the irregu-
larity of it had prompted the listeners to
an unconscious effort to fill out the pause;
perhaps because it was a warm day and
many windows overlooking the court were
open, so that the sweet music had pene-
trated to a larger audience than usual —
at any rate, the last tone of the piano
had hardly ceased before a woman sewing
by a window underneath leaned dreamily
against the screen and softly repeated,
twice over, the final line: "Love me, and
the world is mine."
The chord thus struck vibrated through-
out the group of apartments. A musical,
though rather noisy spell of magic seemed
suddenly to have fallen over them. Voice
after voice caught a note and blended it into
some melody of its own. For a few min-
utes there was a curious medley. Snatches
of "Starlight," "Dear Old Girl," "San
Antonio," "Lazy Moon," "When Dreams
Come True," "In Zanzibar," "Cheyenne,"
"Love's Old Sweet Song," rang out gaily
or sadly to join the strange chorus.
It ended soon and as suddenly as it
began, though scattered voices sounded
spasmodically a few times. From one
window came the fretful crying of a child
722
SOME POPULAR SONGS
whom the mother soothed into silence
with "Sing Me To Sleep," and "The Song
That I Heard in My Dreams." As that
also died away into silence, there ap-
proached from a window directly across
the court the strong, full-throated volume
of an Irish girl's voice singing "Honey
Boy" at the top of her power. Behind
this sound — if one may so express it —
appeared the brisk form of the Brownleys'
maid, who shoved up the screen and vig-
orously shook a duster out of the window.
Mike looked up instantly from his
shrubs and laughed a jolly, "Good mornin'.
Say, are you goin' tonight, Mary?"
No reply. Just a cheerful glance.
"I say! Wait on, Mary — are you goin'?"
Without interrupting "Honey Boy,"
she shook her head roguishly at him,
then disappeared, song and all.
"Are you coming out tonight, Mary
Ann?" he began with teasing emphasis
in a clear baritone, whose power sent it
penetrating after the ears for which it
was meant. Then he waited a minute,
looking up. Apparently "Mary Ann"
had not heard* him.
11 Are you coming out tonight, Mary
Ann?" he repeated more teasingly.
"Arrah, don't say that you can't, for
you can — The inquisitive face of the
Brownleys' maid appeared for one fleet-
ing instant at a corner of the window.
"There's a gossoon wants to spoon
Underneath the harvest moon — "
Another glimpse.
"Sure it's me, can't you see? — Mike McGee —
it's me:
There's a tale I want to tell, Mary Ann,
Oh 'tis you that knows it well, Mary Ann;
There's a kiss goes with it, too,
Mary Ann, what's keeping you? —
Are you coming out tonight, Mary Ann:"
There was a personal emphasis in the
tone of his voice that made the parody
delightfully significant, in spite of the
innocent way in which he had returned
to his shrubs.
"Hush up, down there, Mike McGee,
I'm ashamed of you," remarked the
Brownleys' maid in a shocked undertone,
with her mouth close against the screen.
Mike McGee looked up at her delight-
edly and began again: t{Are you coming
out tonight, Mary Ann?"
Mary bestowed on him one more
shocked glance, then she again left the
window. Mike McGee laughed out
merrily and went on clipping twigs with
an air of humorous patience and deter-
mination, that Walters understood to
mean: "Oh, very well; but I shall stick
it out to the finish."
He seemed thoughtful for perhaps two
minutes, then he commenced to sing out
distinctly and easily, even carelessly, but
with flexible intonations and little punctu-
ations of emphasis on the "Mary Ann"
that would have made him successful on
the stage.
"Mary Ann, just put on your brand-new
bonnet,
Mary Ann, wear the dress with shamrocks
on it;
Come, Allanna, don't you hear me sigh?
See, the moon is shining in the sky —
Mary Ann, what a lovely night for sparking,
Mary Ann, boys and girls are all skylarking —
Don't keep me here, waiting like a clown,
Mary Ann, will you come down?
"Are you coming out tonight, Mary Ann?
Arrah, don't say that you can't, for you can.
There's a gossoon wants to spoon
Underneath the harvest moon —
Sure it's me, can't you see? — Mike McGee —
it's me:
There's a tale I want to tell, Mary Ann,
Oh, 'tis you that knows it well, Mary Ann;
There's a kiss goes with it, too —
Mary Ann, what's keeping you?
Are you coming out tonight, Mary Ann?"
The last of these coaxing words almost
clashed into a fresh volume of song from
the Brownleys' windows.
"I'm going to do what I please,
And I don't care who I please just so long as
I please myself;
I'm going to go where I please;
I'm going to come when I please "
This was positively refreshing in its
carefree abandon, Walters felt. Down
in the court the snip, snip, snip continued,
uninterruptedly, and, after the briefest
noticeable pause, the pleasant baritone
hummed along cheerfully again and with
apparent unconcern, ringing out occa-
sionally into audible words.
" . . . . out to-night, Mary Ann?
for you can
There's a tale I want to tell, Mary Ann,
Oh, 'tis you that knows it well
There's a kiss goes with 'it, too
what's keeping you?
Are you coming out tonight, Mary Ann?"
SOME POPULAR SONGS
723
At the same time song kept pouring
volubly from the Brownleys' windows:
"I'm going to go where I please ....
I'm going to love who I please
Just so long as I please,
If I don't please no one else. ..."
"There's a tale I want to tell, Mary Ann . . .
There's a kiss goes with it, too, —
Mary Ann, what's keeping you?"
Mike continued carelessly, as he crossed
the court to fetch his watering pot.
"Fm going to do what I please," came
an apparent answer from the windows.
For several minutes now Mike was very
busy with the watering pot. Then he
began in a new key:
"You'll be sorry just too late. ..."
Here Mike's voice trailed vaguely out
from a half open door for a moment and
Walters lost some of the lines. Then —
"Say you're sorry, 'cross your heart,
Then I'll give you one more start.
If you are, don't hesitate, —
You'll be sorry just too late."
Not a sound from the Brownleys'
apartment. The concerto there had
reached an abrupt finis. Their windows
appeared deserted, though Walters was
almost willing to swear that a pair of
bright gray Irish eyes were cautiously
spying from behind the lace curtains of
one of them. Mike had glanced upward
once very casually and now he too was
silent. Walters congratulated himself that
his balcony rail was high and that the
Brownleys lived a story below, for this
thing was growing rather exciting and
he knew the ending might lack somewhat
in naivete if he were discovered.
He lighted a fresh cigarette and then
reconnoitered carefully over a corner of
his railing. The woman on the ground
floor who had been singing to her child
and the one who had echoed the chorus,
"Love me, and the world is mine," were
no longer in sight. So far as he could see,
no one was listening now besides himself
and the sweet-faced cripple girl, Alice
Eagan, whose wheel chair always stood
in one of the sunny windows at a right
angle to the Brownleys'. She espied him,
smiled and waved her hand.
The window revealed nothing except
a reminiscent looking piano.
Walters smiled and waved back to Alice
Eagan, noting pleasurably that the roses
he had brought her four days ago were
still in their vase on the window-sill,
and mentally patting himself on the
shoulder for having thought of the gift.
It was worth while bringing flowers to
a girl like Alice, who fairly reveled in
them and could never gather them for
herself. How her eyes had lighted up
and the pretty pink come into her cheeks.
Ever since the second day of his sojourn
at Waverley Court when he had seen her
drop her silver thimble out of the window
and gaze down m helpless distress where
it had fallen because the janitor was not
in sight and had hastily presented himself
like a troubadour beneath her window
and diligently searched the diminutive
treasure out from its hiding place in the
grass — since that moment Alice Eagan
had been a sort of inspiration to him, and
Walters had a very warm spot in his
heart for her. Hardly a day passed when
he did not run in to chat with her a few
moments, to show her something he had
written, or to bring her a fresh book.
She was pretty well educated, and an
appreciative reader of good books. She
could certainly criticize, too, and lately
Walters had been ruminating over the
possibility of getting her some of the
book work to do on his paper. He made
a mental note now that he must see about
the matter this very day. It might mean
a whole lot to Alice, for he fancied that
her people were not especially wealthy
and that she was not always sewing at
those little novelties for mere pastime.
Moreover, it was not likely that she,
dear and sweet though she was, would
ever get out into the world and marry
like — well, like her.
Walters looked rather guiltily up at
the window and saw that it was still
lonely.
At last Mike carried away his watering
pot and brought out a hose. Walters
thought he handled it with unusual de-
liberation and determination. Certainly
those qualities were dominant in his tone
as he repeated:
"You'll be sorry just too late
When my love has turned to hate. . .
You'll be sorry just too late."
724
SOME POPULAR SONGS
Walters was sure that he saw the lace
curtains moved by some other agency than
the light breeze. By some spirit of cam-
araderie he was also sure, as he glanced
over at Alice Eagan, that she had marked
the same thing. Yet almost instantly
from somewhere in the interior of the
Brownleys' apartment came the voice of
the Brownleys' maid:
"Teasing . . . just to see what you would do ;
Of course you know that I was teasing, teas-
ing,—
I was only, only teasing you."
This time, however, her tone was not
careless and indifferent. It was mis-
chievous, and just the least bit plaintive.
Alice Eagan gestured her delight to
Walters, then demurely signalled him not
to betray his auditory position, as the
Brownleys' maid raised a screen and with
her head thrust out at the aperture sang
again softly: "I was only, only teasing
you."
Mike, bending over the hose, started
as though suddenly electrified, and stared
up at her.
"You're worth teasing, Mike," she an-
nounced.
"Are you going tonight, Mary Ann?"
he demanded in his natural voice.
"Sure, Mike. I'll go. What time is it
to be?"
"Seven-thirty sharp by th' clock on
th' right hand upper corner of this buildin'.
Will you be downstairs here at seven-
thirty sharp? It's your night out, I
know."
"Sure, Mike," she acquiesced again
with mock meekness, and immediately
drew in her head and shut the screen.
Mike, however, appeared satisfied, for
he set about his work with wonderful
cheerfulness and alacrity.
Alice Eagan clapped her hands merrily —
though noiselessly — at this propitious close
of the performance, pretending to demand
an encore. Walters, with equal gaiety,
followed her example. Then he pulled
out his watch and assumed an expression
of horror as he. discovered that it was
twenty minutes to eleven. Alice laughed,
but signed eagerly that he should come
and speak to her before he tried to catch
his car. And he was nothing loth to do
so, for there were two or three tactful
questions he wanted answered before he
broached that subject of book criticism
to his editor.
"Mr. Bob Walters," she began, as he
dropped into a seat near her wheelchair
a few seconds later. "This isn't teasing
you, because I don't want to be sorry,
and I don't want you to miss your car
either, but tomorrow is Friday, your
day off duty, and I very particularly
want you to arrange to come and take tea
with me here. You've never done that,
you know. Mother will be chaperone.
And I shall have a friend here whom I want
you to meet. She's a nice girl, and pretty,
or rather beautiful, and she sings divinely.
In fact, you may possibly have heard her
singing sometimes in the mornings, if
you were not too busy with your stories —
she's Miss Barbara MacAllen, and she
lives in the other side of Waverley Court."
Barbara MacAllen! That, then, was her
name.
Walters looked at Alice a bit search-
ingly, hoping at the same time that he
had concealed any start her speech had
given him. "I didn't suppose you knew
her," he said wonderingly. "You've
never mentioned her before."
"You have heard her, then," Alice said,
leaning forward eagerly. "Isn't her voice
exquisite?"
"It's perfect," he answered, and to
save his life could not keep the note of
emotion out of his tone. In self-defense
he added quickly: "You see, I've listened
sometimes when I was scribbling out on
that balcony of mine. A fellow naturally
would, when a girl can sing like that."
The delicate color came into Alice's
cheeks and her eyes were bright and dark.
"Of course a fellow would," she said. "I
had to myself."
"You haven't mentioned her before,"
Walters repeated thoughtfully.
Alice replied after a second's hesitation.
"She is a new friend, but we are already
good ones, and I think you will enjoy
knowing her, too."
"I would like to," he admitted. "I—
in fact—"
"'Fess up," Alice urged with pretty
gentleness. "I'm your Muse, you know,
and a Muse may be trusted as fully as a
father confessor."
SOME POPULAR SONGS
725
"I certainly do tell you things," Walters
returned. "I was going to say I had
already often thought I should like to
know her." ,
"I'm so glad then," Alice said, "that I
thought of asking you here at the same
time. I want you to come about five
o'clock. Barbara will be here only a few
minutes before that, but I am going to
let you come early and talk to us while
she helps me arrange the tea table."
"Yes," he answered absently, not rudely.
"I can't get over how queer it seems that
you really know her."
It seemed to Walters that something
rippled vaguely, like a wave across Alice's
face — emotion, laughter, or something;
it was so very elusive, he could not tell
what. She leaned back among her pillows,
reaching out her hand for the extra one
which lay on the floor by her chair, before
she spoke.
"It's very pleasant," she said brightly.
"Now don't forget five o'clock, and you
mustn't miss your car."
Eleven o'clock was approaching. Yet
Walters lingered.
"No. Did you say you had not known
her long?"
"Our friendship is almost two weeks
old, but it's real friendship, I think."
Alice hesitated and appeared a little em-
barrassed. "I will tell you a bit more —
I — asked her to be my friend. Sitting
here by my window every day, I can
watch her whenever she sits at her piano
—see!"
Walters stood at the back of Alice's
chair and looked up to the window — and
.saw how much better a view she had than
he from his balcony.
"My window is really dear to me, I
see so much from it. I watched her —
Barbara — a great deal, feeling always
more and more attracted to her, and sure
that she and I might become friends if
we could only meet, until finally I wrote
her a little note — mother got me her name
from the janitor. She did just what I
knew she would, came right down to see
me and sing for me, and we were' friends."
Down from the other angle of the court
floated two or three bars of music, as if
someone in passing had lightly run her
fingers over the piano keys, and that rich
contralto rang out clearly and sweetly:
"I only know I love you,
Love me, and the world is mine."
Alice, listening and approving, smiled
up at Walters with inscrutable eyes.
Walters listened, too, with a somewhat
quickened beat of his heart. But even
while he paused there to hear the last
echo, an odd fancy struck him — that Alice
looked wonderfully brave and strong
somehow, he couldn't tell whether it was
in her expression or where, but wonder-
fully brave and strong as well as sweet and
dear.
"Good-bye, Bob Walters," Alice said,
the moment the last echo had died.
"That old eleven o'clock car," with a
wry face — wry faces with Alice were not
pouts or anything else commonplace —
"I am so glad you are coming tomorrow."
Outside the door Walters paused, he
had not asked those tactful questions, and
turned back. It was evident that Alice
thought him really gone. She was leaning
toward her window with her elbow on
the sill and her chin in her hand, and
seemed to be looking out beyond the
opening of the court, which her window
faced, to the greenery of a small park
across the street. Of course he could
not see her eyes, but he felt that they
were dreamy and yet shining, her whole
attitude was somehow so elate. She was
probably thinking of that song which
must have been written as a sort of answer
to "Love Me, and the World Is Mine," for
presently she sang over softly the words :
"I love, and thoughts that sometime grieved
Still well remembered, grieve not me. . . .
I love, and the world is mine."
It would be presuming now to disturb
her, Walters felt. He was curiously awe-
struck, and turned away without quite
closing the door, lest he should make some
sound, and tiptoed quietly down the hall,
and hurried out to his car, stowing this
picture of Alice away among certain
choice treasures of his memory and think-
ing in a kind of subdued excitement of
tomorrow, of meeting her, and of securing
that criticism work for Alice.
WHEN WE DINED
WITH IADY ZU
Isabel Anderson
NE day in Septem-
ber the women of
our party dined
with Lady Zu. We
had received the
invitations, exe-
cuted in black
Chinese letters on
a long piece of red
paper, several
days before. A translation was attached
which stated that we were expected to
arrive at five o'clock and that dinner
would be at seven. We were warned that
it was not a Chinese custom to reply,
but that we must appear with the invita-
tion in our hand. As foreign women are
seldom admitted to even the humbler
homes of the Manchus, and Lady Zu was
not only a Manchu but a personage of
high rank, it was a rare privilege that was
offered us by these curious invitations.
Starting off in carriages, we passed
Chinese dignitaries serenely squatting in
covered chairs carried by coolies, while
outriders were going helter-skelter before
and behind them on shaggy ponies. We
whizzed by carts drawn by mules, and
jinrikshas bearing painted Manchu ladies,
and Chinese women toddling along on
their tiny broken feet.
Bumpity-bump over the rough street
we drove, while our driver snapped his
whip and gave long calls which sounded
like "liar! liar!" We went under pailos
and through thick -walled arches, passed
gray walls and pink ones, and saw in the
distance the Forbidden City, whose daz-
zling, yellow-tiled roofs were as bright as
the setting sun.
Finally we drove up before Lady Zu's
house. This looked like any other on the
outside — a long gray wall with a hooded
entrance gate. Inside also we found the
usual arrangement — a walled compound
enclosing many courtyards and one-
storied buildings, the latter often connected
by bridges or covered passageways. Enter-
ing on foot we passed through one of these
courtyards and into a second yard where
stands the stone screen which is placed
in every house to keep out the devil, since
the Chinese believe that "the devil can
travel only in a straight line."
This same devil seems to give them
great concern, for on the corners of the
roofs were little curligigs, which when the
devil slides down the roof are supposed
to toss him up again. Then along with
the little tiled animals, the dragon and
the phoenix, which mean happiness and
prosperity, comes the mysterious hen
ridden by a man. The hen is supposed
to give the devil a peck when he comes
too near. The Chinese have built pagodas
to propitiate the spirits of the air; but
their houses are all low, and for a long
time there was a law forbidding any
structure above a certain height so as to
prevent missionaries from erecting churches
with towers, which might interfere with
their gods of the air.
We presently found ourselves at the
entrance to a charming paved court.
There were potted green plants twisted
into queer shapes, and small fruit trees
with bunches of crab-apples and beautiful
ripening pomegranates hanging from their
branches. Lotus leaves floated on an
artificial pond, and bright flowers peeped
at us between fantastic-shaped rocks.
At this entrance Lady Zu and her daughters
stood waiting to greet us. They were
noble Manchu ladies, and they looked
like curious flowers in their long, light
blue, straight gowns and short jackets,
their faces whitened and rouged beyond
belief, their black hair plastered down
(728)
WHEN WE DINED WITH LADY ZU
727
with oil and sewed together at the back
and surmounted by strange black satin
top-knots with flying buttresses. There
were flowers in this head-dress, too, and
pearl ornaments striking out at different
angles. We could easily believe what we
were told, that such a toilet takes several
hours in the making. The Chinese ladies
who soon gathered about us were costumed
quite differently from the Manchu women.
Mme. Tsi, for instance, was in a short
embroidered pink jacket with pink
trousers, and her hair was oiled and coiled
in the back of her neck with many jewels;
she wore bracelets on her arms and precious
stones about her neck. As a rule the
Chinese and Manchu women do not mix
much. These Chinese ladies all had
natural feet, were educated in America
and spoke English, while the Manchu
ladies had little or no education.
When they met us they all shook hands,
but in greeting each other they slide their
hands upon their knees and bow low several
times. We were escorted into a room
where amahs or maids took our wraps
as they balanced themselves on their
high shoes, trembling so in their excite-
ment at seeing people from a far-off land
that their mutton-fat jade earrings shook
in theii ears.
We were then taken to the big seat 'of
honor, made of teak-wood and marble,
in the center of which was a small table.
Here we had tea for the first time— I say
the first time, for we were offered it in
different pavilions at least five times as
we walked through the compound.
Lady Zu's two daughters, who looked
about her own age, were presented to us,
and a small baby was also brought forward.
Whether they were all her own children
or not we could not find out, but we saw
no other wives, although we were told
that Chinamen may have as many as
they can afford to keep. If there are
several they all live in different parts of
the same compound, each one keeps house,
and I believe they make very good mothers
and housekeepers. The unmarried girls
take precedence over the married ones,
for they say: "Perhaps some day she may
be Empress!"
The rooms through which we passed
were all more or less alike: tables and
chairs of teak-wood, a European oil paint-
ing here, a piece of Japanese embroidery
there; instead of "God Bless Our Home,"
poems hung upon the walls, together with
"Good Wishes" written in big black
letters by the old Dowager Empress's
own hand. On the stone floors, instead
of the Golden Tibet Monkey Rug, which
"keeps the whole house warm," as they
say, were only here and there a few garish
European carpets. The house was cold,
even in September, but in winter it is
partially warmed by fires built under
their large beds.
At last dinner^ was announced. The
table was set for sixteen. It was quite
European, with flowers, knives and forks.
I was rather disappointed that we didn't
have duck's tongues and fish lips. Course
after course — wine after wine. Our
hostess proposed toast after toast, saying:
"I drink the glass dry with you!" It
was rather a struggle to keep up the
conversation. One end of the table was
made gay by trying to teach a Manchu
girl English, while some of us passed around
our menu cards for the ladies to write
their names upon. Some of the Chinese
ladies had been given English names,
such as Ida or May, while others still
kept their Chinese ones, such as "Fairy
of the Moon," and "Beloved of the Forest."
Lady Zu would not write her name. Mme.
Tsi assured us that she had trouble with
her eyes.
After dinner, to our amazement, some
Chinese music was played on the pianola,
while more tea and cigarettes were passed.
It was all very interesting and delightful,
but when we drove back to the hotel at
half past nine we were so tired and it
seemed so late to us that we wondered
why the sun didn't rise!
This was perhaps the most novel ex-
perience we had while in Pekin. It well
illustrates the transition period through
which the empire is now passing, when
some Chinese women are still wearing
the "cup of tears," as they call their tiny
embroidered satin shoes, while others
who have studied in America or at mission
schools are leaders in the ranks of progress,
and one woman has even established a
daily newspaper iri Chinese for her own
sex.
IN THE DAYS OF THE "OLD WEST"
By JOE MITCHELL CHAPPLE
HAT a charm there is in
listening, in the course of
desultory converse, to the
story of an active life!
Sitting on the veranda of
beautiful Pres de Leau,
the summer home of Mr.
Francis M. Smith — with
a field-glass close at hand
to sweep the harbor of Shelter Island,
wherein his beautiful steam yacht "Hauoli"
lay at anchor — he described to me with all
modesty and simplicity incidents of a ca-
reer that has had an untold influence in
household economics.
Francis Marion Smith left his Wisconsin
farm home in 1867 for the "Rockies,"
and followed the mining camps from
Montana to Idaho, and from California
to Nevada until 1872, back in those days
which Mark Twain illuminated with
witty chronicles, and Bret Harte im-
mortalized in the "Luck of Roaring
Camp," "Mrs. Skagg's Husbands" and
other classics of an era of fiery adventure
and enterprise, which may be hard to
understand in this quiet day of business
improvement and development.
In the fall of 1872, among the forest
camps that encircle Columbus, Nevada,
some ten miles away Mr. Smith was supply-
ing material to miners, and engaged in
mining exploration. ' While delivering wood
at the mills and timber to the mines, he
made a discovery which proved to be
more valuable than any placer or gold-
bearing ledge. From his cabin in a narrow
gulch, one day, he was struck with the
appearance of a gleaming white marsh
near him, and taking supplies of provisions
and tools on his pack animals, he found,
by chance, that the richest portion of a
barren marsh was an immense deposit
of borax.
He carried the samples to an assayer
at Columbus, little suspecting the great
value of the shiny white deposit, richer
and rarer than the pockets of golden
nuggets which others had found in the
surrounding country. The reports on the
samples were so favorable that Mr.
Smith returned to the marsh, locating
several thousand acres, most of which,
however, was found to be worthless.
Arrangements were made to put up a
plant, and the production of borax on a
large scale was begun.
* * *
At that time the many uses of borax
were little known. The druggists sold
it at twenty-five cents per ounce, and it
was principally used for medicinal pur-
poses. Mr. Smith has lived to see borax
become one of the most important articles
of commerce, and his extensive operations
hare brought about a revolution in its
production and sale as a household staple,
in universal use. For fifteen years "Teel's
Marsh" was operated without cessation,
and practically controlled the market:
over seventeen thousand tons of borax
were taken from this marsh alone. The
years and energy spent in buying up over
a hundred locators, and clearing up all
adverse claims was an undertaking, in
those days of titanic tasks, demanding
persistent effort and determination. But
Mr. Smith "kept right at it" until finally
the ownership of the marsh was centralized
and later transferred to the company of
which he has been president ever since
its organization in 1890.
Ten years previous another important
discovery of borax was made in Death
Valley, California, from which the "20
mule team" hauled the crude mineral
to the railway at Mojave, 167 miles dis-
tant. One of the drivers of this famous
mule team died only a little while ago,
a man whose life story is of picturesque
interest. A few years ago the mule teams
were supplanted by a broad gauge rail-
road called the Tonapah & Tidewater
Railway. Nearly every foot of the land
(728)
IN THE DAYS OF THE "OLD WEST"
729
in this great area has been traversed person-
ally by Mr. Smith. His permanent
residence is now in Oakland, California,
one of the golden spots in the Golden
State, in which the deathless Calif ornian
flowers bloom in all their radiance the year
round. His summer home on Shelter Island,
Pres de Lean, meaning "by the water,"
occupies an estate of three thousand acres,
on which he has lived for many years, and
delights to superintend personally.
Mr. Smith has been very successful
in other lines of business undertaken out-
side of his great life work. The street
railways of Oakland, the Key Route
Ferry System, and the electric train line
running to the suburbs of Oakland, Pied-
mont and Berkeley, stand as monuments
to his enterprise and foresight. He is
president of the West End Consolidated
Mining Company of Tonopah, of the
Tonopah & Tidewater Railroad, and also
of the Oakland Chemical Company of
Oakland.
* * *
Few men who have won in the great
battle of life are so beloved by the young
men with whom he is associated in busi-
ness. He keeps in close touch with each
of them, and the men who are managing
his interests often wonder that none of
the many details of his great business
escape him.
His hair is thrown up from his fore-
head in a great wave, and his blue eyes
keenly note all that takes place about
him; small wonder that he has been so
successful in all his operations; and yet
anyone acquainted with him soon realizes
that if there was ever a broad-minded and
noble charity, it is that which Mr. Smith
exercises in his own unostentatious way.
A sturdy, rugged character, he has always
persistently refused to identify his name
with the advertising of the great staple
with whose production and sale he has
been so closely identified. He believes
that the goods rather than the name of
their owner should Anake their own record.
An enthusiastic yachtsman, his sloop,
the "Effort," has long been known as the
fastest of her class; sixty-three feet in
length, and of perfect lines, rig and equip-
ment, she is the pride of her owner. She
won the cup offered by the late King
Edward to the New York Yacht Club,
and the name of F. M. Smith was the first
to be engraved on the famous trophy.
If one were to name Mr. Smith's favorite
recreations, yachting must first be in-
cluded, for he very often sails his own
boat, and out of twenty-six races in one
season the "Effort" won twenty-three,
which is considered an unusual average
in yachting contests. The steam yacht
owned by the late H. H. Rogers recently
ran a close race with Mr. Smith's "Hauoli."
With all his diversion he continues his
work of supervision and initiative with
the same zest as in the early days. The
careers of such men mean much. If it
were not for the inspiration of such achieve-
ment, very little incentive for bold and
adventuresome spirits would remain. The
development of the great arid plains of
the West and the creation from desert
wastes of wealth and employment for
thousands, besides bringing into daily
use and reducing in price an invaluable
mineral, is certainly a record of beneficent
conquest.
* * *
To sit with him as he details the ex-
periences of his early manhood would
enthrall a Fenimore Cooper, for the men
who initiated the great undertakings in
the great West are growing few in number
Those who went West in the sixties and
were identified with the great interests
and operations covering such a large area,
were necessarily men of broad ideas and
purposes. One can almost determine
the individuality of a man by the outlook
he chooses for his home — and the site
on which this home is built and the views
it commands reflect in a measure the great
guiding purposes of the owner's life.
It was late into the evening before we
had finished our talk, as we quietly smoked,
and as a minor interlude between the
reminiscences of his career, I learned that
for many years his sight had been impaired
from "desert blindness," and during all
that time his correspondence was largely
read to him by others. His sight is now
fully restored, and with his wife and his
charming little children, he is enjoying
to the full those simple comforts of life
which are the richest heritage that any
career can afford.
A ROMANCE OF A SIC/ PILOT
<&
Edgar Wm* Dynes
VERYONE has their own
idea of the hurry- up -
hustling West, but few
would accuse it of spend-
ing much time in building
monuments. She is so
busy finding gold mines,
sowing wheat and plant-
ing orchards that she has
but little time to spend
in the erection of granite
shafts to the memory of the hardy pioneers
who blazed the way.
In the hurly-burly of the strenuous life
she has even allowed some of the old
prospectors, who discovered the rich
bonanzas which have brought her not a
little of her wealth, to die in poverty. One
of them died in Colorado a short time
ago. He crossed the plains in the early
days and discovered the great Cripple
Creek camp. But others reaped where
he had sown, and when he passed over the
Bridge of Death he took with him all that
he possessed.
Although this think-of-yourself spirit
is more or less in evidence all over the
growing, throbbing West I am glad to be
able to cite an exception to the rule. Some
of the heroes have been forgotten — but
not all. On the main business corner of
the smart little mining town of Rossland
in southern British Columbia there stands
a monument to the memory of a brave,
big-hearted man.
The erection of this beautiful stone
column is remarkable for three things.
In the first place it was erected to the
memory of a sky pilot. The West has
generally been rather slow to recognize
the benefits she has derived from the
work of the men who have gone from
camp to camp and from ranch house
to ranch house spreading the message of
the Word. In the newest and wildest
camps, the presence of a gambler and a
saloon keeper has always been taken as a
matter of course, while the parson has been
considered more or less of an unnecessary
quantity.
Then again it was erected in a town
where in the boom days the saloon with
all its attendant evils reigned supreme.
What with wine, women, booze, blackjack
and cards — it was about as near the devil's
camping ground as any town or camp
could very well be.
But there is one more reason. It was
because of the efforts, and mainly through
the contributions of the miners of the
various camps that this memoriam was
possible. And as a class the miners of
the West are not given credit for being
very religious. Rather a false idea, it is
true, but a popular conception, neverthe-
less.
In the centre of that wide-awake mining
metropolis it stands, a permanent, last-
ing tribute to the life and works of "Father
Pat," an Anglican clergyman, who was
pastor of the little frame church in that
city for a number of years. In the parish
records he was described as the Reverend
Henry Irvine, but he was known far and
wide in the mountain country as "Father
Pat."
As the latter name might suggest, he
was an Irishman, and a good-natured one
at that. It is doubtful if he ever knew
just how big his heart really was. It
throbbed with a mighty love for all hu-
manity. Creed, color or nationality made
no difference; a man was a man to Father
Pat.
He was a parson pure and simple. He
never speculated in real estate or dealt
in wildcat mines on the side. Like the
humble follower of the Nazarene that he
was, he cared for nothing but to bring
sunshine and hope into the shadowy lives
of men. And in his mission of help and
cheer he did things with an absolute
disregard for time-honored custom or the
conventionalities of civilization.
(730)
A ROMANCE OF A SKY PILOT
731
He had his own way of doing every-
thing. In the main he did things a little
different from anyone else. When cir-
cumstances seemed to warrant, and there
seemed to be no other way in which he
might accomplish his end he would bring
some muscular Christianity into play.
The following incident will illustrate the
meaning of his muscular Christianity.
Away out on a lonely mountain side,
thirty miles from a doctor of a hospital,
a prospector lay seriously ill. Father Pat
had a wonderful faculty for hearing about
people who were in trouble and he chanced
to learn about it. He gathered together
some appliances and a few bottles of
medicine and started on his weary march
over the mountains. Thirty miles was
nothing to him. He has been known to
walk as much as forty miles in a day.
As he neared the cabin home of the
prospector he met three miners on horses
who saluted him in a very uncivil manner
and inquired where he was going. He
told them that he was on his way to the
sick man's cabin. They replied that Bill
needed a doctor instead of a parson and
began to say nice things about parsons
in general, and him in particular, finally
refusing to allow him to proceed any
further.
He made an attempt to pass but they
stoutly held their ground. Then quicker
than lightning he brought his muscular
Christianity into play, and almost before
they had realized his intention, he jerked
one of the miners off his horse. Without
stopping to take breath he pulled the
second one off also. It was not necessary
to repeat the act with the third as they
were too much surprised at the turn things
had taken to further interfere.
Reaching the sick man's side he soon
ministered to his wants. He put on a
fire, cooked a good supper of bacon and
beans, and then spent the night with him.
On the following day, having done all
that he could to alleviate the sufferings of
the sick man, he set out on the return
journey.
While going down the trail he en-
countered the three miners whom he had
met on the day before. They surrounded
him in a threatening manner and again
began to insult him.
"Will you see fair play if I fight one at
a time?" he inquired.
They all replied in a breath that nothing
would suit them better.
A ring was formed and it was not long
until the first man measured full length
on the ground. The second fared no
better, and the fighting parson smilingly
invited the third to come on. But he
had come to the conclusion that the new
parson was not a man to be trifled with,
and he took to his heels, running as hard
as he could. Before going on, Father Pat
bathed the bruises of the two prostrate
figures. Then he preached a little sermon
on the evils of fistular activity and pro-
ceeded on his way.
Henry Irvine was born on August 2nd,
1859, in a secluded part of the Wicklow
mountains in Ireland. His father was a
clergyman, and when a mere child he is
said to have stated that he would become
a missionary. He was educated at Oxford,
where, on account of his Irish wit and
drollery he was given the popular sobriquet
of "Pat." Then, when he had definitely
announced his intention of going into the
ministry, the clerical handle was added,
and he became known as "Father Pat."
Through all the years that followed . this
name stuck to him. There are many
persons in British Columbia to whom
Father Pat is a familiar name but who
probably do not know that such an indi-
vidual as the Reverend Henry Irvine ever
existed.
He came to British Columbia in 1885.
His first charge was at Kamloops, a rail-
road town on the Canadian Pacific Rail-
way. With wonderful zeal and enthusiasm
he threw himself into his work. He very
quickly became a favorite with the boys
on the railroad and with the miners and
prospectors in the outlying camps which
he visited.
It was while he was at Kamloops that
he had his first experience with a bucking
broncho. Some of the boys thought that
it would be a nice joke to play a trick
on the new parson and they asked him if
he could ride. He replied that he could.
They suggested, that, since he was a good
rider, he would hardly mind trying one
of their horses, although he was a little
spirited. And the good-hearted parson
732
A ROMANCE OF A SKY PILOT
replied that it wouldn't bother him in
the least.
However, although Father Pat had
known what it was to ride mean horses
in the old country, he did not know any-
thing about the antics of one of these
wild creatures that puts its head down
between its front legs and bucks — really
bucks. In this case he had to admit
defeat. He was thrown. But he mounted
again. He was thrown a second time.
And in his I-don't-know-when-to-let-go
way he was preparing to mount the third
time when his friends interposed. They
assured him that he had given ample
proof of his pluck and they never tried
to tease him in that way again.
It was also while he was here that an
event happened which was destined to
have a great effect on his after life. In
the end it made him the great open-hearted
pilot that the Kootenay miners in later
years came to love so dearly. For it was
during his incumbency, at this point,
that he met— the woman.
Miss Frances Innes was the daughter
of a government official at Victoria, and
a sister of the wife of a brother minister
in the Spallumcheen valley. She was one
of those shy, womanly creatures who
appeal to a strong, brave man because of
their essential womanliness. She had soft,
curly, brown hair, expressive blue eyes
and a sweet, winsome, childlike smile.
Father Pat fell desperately in love with
her, and his love was returned. They
were an ideal couple; he, the strong,
brave minister, and she, the meek, loving,
true-hearted woman.
In 1887, Father Pat was transferred to
Donald, a railroad town on the mountain
section east of Revelstoke. Not long
after the completion of the building of
the railroad Donald ceased to exist, but
at this time it was a live burg. Being
high up in the Rockies snowslides were
very frequent in that vicinity and soon
after Father Pat took up his residence
there an event happened which throws
an interesting sidelight on his methods
and strength of character.
Word came to Donald of a snowslide
up the line and a snowplough was sent
to clear the way. While it was at work a
second slide occurred in which the con-
ductor of the* snowplough train, a man
named Green, was killed.
In the meantime other slides had come
down behind the snowplough, and the
way was completely blocked. It was im-
possible to get the body brought back to
Donald and Mrs. Green was wild with
anxiety lest they would bury him up in
the mountains. Fearing that the woman's
strained mental condition might have
serious results, Father Pat resolved that,
if possible, he would go to the scene of
the accident and bring back the remains
of the unfortunate man.
Disregarding the danger to which he
was exposing himself on account of the
smaller slides which were still coming
down, he took a small toboggan and set
out for the scene of the accident. He
found the body, reverently placed it on
his little sleigh, and, in the face of obstacles
and perils that would have chilled the
enthusiasm of a less determined man, he
brought the body back to Donald. The
thankfulness of the wife can well be
imagined.
At this time another wife was very
anxious about the welfare of her husband
who was with some of the trains held up
in the blockade. Half mad with fear
and anxiety she came to Father Pat for
news. He replied that he had heard from
her husband and that he was all right.
She was comforted and went back to her
home happy.
It was true that the man was safe and
erelong was restored to his wife. But
Father Pat knew nothing of him. He
afterwards confessed this to the wife
whose fears he had allayed by his-— shall
we say? — justifiable lie. He said that
he had done it because he was afraid
that he would have her distracted upon
his hands.
It was one of his most prominent traits
that he acted on impulse, led by his heart
as often as by his head. But his loving
impulsiveness won him the good will of
the people. They soon came to realize
that no matter how others might be
guided by custom or conventionality he
was guided by the impulses of a loving
heart that nobody knew the size of.
He worked so hard and was so reckless
in the expenditure of his physical energy,
A ROMANCE OF A SKY PILOT
733
as he traveled from camp to camp over
the rough mountain trails, that in 1888
he was compelled to take a rest. He went
back to his old home in Ireland on a visit.
His friends in the old land were much
surprised at the change in him. They
say that he looked twenty years older.
He was bearded and browned, and the
old, wild, hilarious boyishness was gone.
Among the old familiar scenes he re-
covered his strength quickly, and he came
back to British Columbia in the following
year. On January the eighth, 1900, he
was married to the woman of his choice.
He took up his residence in New West-
minster where he was made assistant to
the curate of Holy Trinity Cathedral.
He made friends quickly here as well
as elsewhere, and this was one of the
happiest periods of his life. His home
life left little to be desired. Everyone
remarked upon his intense devotion to
his wife, and she, in turn, descanted upon
him with all the fervor of a maiden in
her teens.
But it would seem as though the period
of happiness was too great — too real to
have a very long existence.
A little one came into the home. But
it never drew breath in* this world, and
three days later the loving wife followed
it out into the land of the Great Unknown.
The heart-broken father was left alone
in the little home that had known so much
happiness.
From this time onward Father Pat was
a changed man. He was the same lovable,
impulsive creature, but the zest of life
was gone. He had worked hard before.
He worked harder now. When he first
came to the province he is said to have
stated that he would always remain a
celibate, and he held to this determination
until he met Miss Innes. But when she
passed away a work mania seems to have
taken hold of him and he appears to have
desired to wear himself out as quickly
as possible in the work of the missionary.
It was impossible for a nature such as
his to forget. He would still speak of
his wife as "Fanny" just as though he
expected her to appear at any moment.
No one, not in possession of the facts,
and hearing him speak of her, would
imagine she was dead. He always carried
with him a copy of "In Memoriam," and
he struggled hard to believe that it was
all for the best. But his superiors saw
how he was suffering and again they
persuaded him to take a trip back to the
old land.
When he again came out to British
Columbia he asked to be allowed to do
some good, hard, pioneer work. His re-
quest was granted. The Kootenay mining
district was just opening up, and he was
given charge of the work at Rossland with
a commission to visit the surrounding
towns whenever possible.
At this time the story of the wealth of
the rich Rossland camp was upon every
lip. It was just on the eve of the great
boom which gave it a world-wide fame.
Its population was made up of all the
various types of individuals which make
up life in a new mining camp. The shrewd
Yankee, the scheming Jew, the well-
groomed capitalist, the energetic pros-
pector, the simple tenderfoot, the wild-
cat promoter, the corpulent saloon man,
the professional gambler, the remittance
man, the big-hearted miner, all were
represented in Rossland in those stirring
days.
And what stirring days they were ! The
town was open wide and a saloon never
knew what it was to be locked up. The
champagne glasses clinked day and night
and seven days in the week. Many a
miner's savings faded beneath the bright
lights which shone over the green tables.
Smiling gamblers daily walked down to
the bank with good, fat rolls. But why
go on? These words will give a peep at
the scene. A peep is enough. In short,
everybody was so busy either making or
losing money that few had time to spend
in making men. And it continued so
until the coming of Father Pat.
It was now that he began the great
work which has made his name a house-
hold word in all the Kootenay country.
And what a work it was! He was always
at work. One day he would be found at
Trail, ten miles east of Rossland; a few
days later he might be found at Grand
Forks, forty miles to the west, and in a
very short time he would cover the whole
territory.
Because of his reckless benevolence it
734
A ROMANCE OF A SKY PILOT
was hard for him to keep the pantry full
or a decent suit on his back. If he had a
good coat, and he found a poorer brother
who was coatless, he would not hesitate
to part with this part of his wardrobe.
A brand new hat went the same way on
one occasion. At another time while
passing a field he noticed a scarecrow and
ventured the opinion that if he were to
trade suits with the wooden man the
transaction would result in considerable
advantage to himself.
It can thus be easily understood that
at this period in his life his attire was not
exactly immaculate. One cime the con-
gregation became scandalized at the
threadbare appearance of his clothing
and bought him a new suit. He thanked
them heartily, but it was not long before
they discovered that his heart had again
got the better of his head as he had given
the suit to some poor fellow who had gone
broke and needed some warm clothing.
It may surprise the reader that such
charity was ever necessary in a rich mining
camp. In explanation let it be said that
in those days "the boys of the hills" were
in a greater or less degree a rather im-
provident lot and all too frequently their
month's check was spent in a gambling
den or saloon before they had paid their
board or purchased the necessaries of life.
And then if they were unfortunate enough
to be thrown out of employment they were
" right up against it." It was at such times
as this that Father Pat often came to
their assistance.
On one occasion when the Bishop came
around he is said to have found Father
Pat attired in an ordinary pair of blue
denim overalls. He was inclined to re-
monstrate, but he found that in his own
peculiar way Father Pat was doing such
a great work and seemed to be in such
favor among the people that he felt that
it would be improper to criticize.
There is also the story of a young man
who came out from England with an intro-
duction to the Reverend Henry Irvine. But
when he found a man in the garb of an
ordinary miner he felt that assuredly there
was some mistake and he went away with-
out producing the letter of introduction.
Father Pat made his home in a few small
rooms under the church. But on the
Bishop's second visit he found him living
in a shivering, cold shack, while a home-
less prospector was domiciled in the more
comfortable quarters under the church.
Was it any wonder the miners loved him?
"Why, Dick," he said to an old timer,
late on Sunday night, "did I not see you
in church this evening?"
"Yes, yer riverence, I was there,"
replied the other. "The first time I have
been to church in thirty years. I couldn't
stand too much of it at a time, though.
So just when it was getting a bit long I
went outside and had a smoke. But I
say, yer riverence, it was good. I went
in again after I had had a bit of a smoke
and it all came back to me as I was used
to it when a boy, and I tell you I did come
down on them ah-mens."
He was at his best when discoursing
on human nature. He always believed
in trying to find the good side of the most
suspicious character.
"My experience in this western country,"
he would say, "is that the more you trust
human nature and treat people like human
beings and not with suspicion, the better
you will like them. If I knew a man was a
born thief I would throw the doors open
to him just the same, relying on his better
nature not to betray me."
And the men understood him.
"He's a good man," said one, "We know
that. There's nothing we can give him.
His reward is ready for him. Some day
he will get his pay for nursing the poor
fellows that no one else would bother about.
No one can take it from him. He's re-
corded his Claim right enough."
There was a young woman who had led
an evil life but in whom Father Pat saw
the seeds of better things. Encouraged
by him, some young fellows clubbed to-
gether to put her in a decent lodging.
They also bought her a sewing machine
so that she might earn an honest living.
And this she was sincerely endeavoring
to do.
But a man meeting her in a hotel one
day greeted her with insulting words.
Father Pat happened to be there and with
his fist in the other fellow's face, said:
"You scoundrel! You get out of here as
quick as you can or I'll help you out."
The man soon vanished, for the beloved
A ROMANCE OF A SKY PILOT
735
pilot's skill as a fighter had now become
well known.
In 1900, we find him doing some mis-
sionary work at Fairview, in the Okanogan
country, about one hundred and fifty
miles west of Rossland. Owing to the
failure of the mines there, his stay at
Fairview was not long, but two typical
incidents come down to us as a result of
his work there.
While among a crowd of miners one day
a coarse, mouthy, brutal 'fellow ventured
to insult him. The beloved pilot paid no
attention until words were added which
were an insult to religion and to the
Creator as well. He strongly resented
this and turning on him fiercely, said:
"I don't mind your insulting me, but you
shall not insult my Master."
The miner drew near and dared Father
Pat to prevent him saying anything he
liked. He evidently expected that his
large physique would frighten the Padre.
But he was badly mistaken. Without
any warning Father Pat turned on him,
and, using his fist scientifically as he so
well knew how to do, he gave him the
trouncing that he deserved. After a hard
tussle the man went down like a log,
unconscious and bleeding. But in a
moment the big-hearted pilot was down
beside him and in a fit of remorse ex-
claimed: "O Lord, forgive me for not telling
this poor man that I was a champion
boxer at Oxford."
While at Fairview he went into the West
Fork country to hold some services. Al-
though he had with him a little hand
organ he was no vocalist, and as singing
is a very popular feature in a service among
the miners, this was a distinct lack.
When the time came for the hymn he
played the tune over on the little hand
organ, but no voice responded. A leader
was lacking. After vain exhortations to
tune up Father Pat turned to a friend of
his, Gorman West, an ex-saloon keeper,
and exclaimed: "Gorman, you beggar —
sing."
"Well, Pat," West replied, "if I sing
every other son of a gun will walk out."
"Then for Heaven's sake don't," replied
Father Pat, and the service was continued
without singing.
But the end was not far off. His hard
work and the hardships he had undergone
appear to have undermined not only his
constitution but his intellect as well. The
body could not stand such treatment
without showing its effects. Although the
brave pilot tried not to show it his superiors
became advised of the condition of things
and persuaded him to go home for a holi-
day. When he again returned it was pro-
posed to make him an itinerant missionary
with the whole of the outlying districts
of the province as his field.
But it was not to be. Nobody knows
just how it happened, but when on his way
home he got off at a small station near
Montreal and was lost. In his partially
demented condition he appears to have
started off, intent on a long walk. Be-
coming weary, he laid down under the
glistening stars just as many a night he
had done in the milder climate of the
mountain country by the slope of the
Western sea.
One morning early in January, 1902,
a farmer driving along the Sault au Recollet
road, a few miles from Montreal, saw a
man walking with difficulty on the frozen
ice. He seemed to be shoving his feet
along instead of lifting them up. The
farmer immediately ran to him and asked
him if he were ill or if his feet were frozen.
The man replied that he did not feel any
pain but just a numbness in his legs.
The farmer kindly took him in his sleigh
and drove him to a doctor in the Sault.
After examination the doctor administered
a cordial to the stranger and told the
farmer to drive him as quickly as possible
to some hospital in Montreal. The stranger
refused to give his name but begged that
he be taken to the Notre Dame hospital,
which is famous for its nursing.
When he arrived at the hospital he gave
his name as William Henry. The sisters
suspected that this was not his real name,
but they let it pass.
His feet were very badly frozen. His
shoes had to be cut off and the frozen
members were put in a medical prepara-
tion to thaw out. The kind-hearted sisters
knew too well the agony that was beginning
and they could not keep back the tears.
But William Henry laughed at their fears,
and said that their tears affected him more
than the pain.
736
A ROMANCE OF A SKY PILOT
He suffered a great deal for a number of
days. Then mortification set in and he
felt no pain. His appetite was good and
his mind was clear. But his manner,
his kindness and his wit and drollery con-
vinced the doctors and nurses that he
was no ordinary patient. His magnetic
personality seemed to attract to him every-
one who came into the room and one day
the Superioress came to him and said that
she felt that he had not given his full name.
He gave her a very evasive answer, jok-
ing with her that women were never
satisfied, and finally he asked for the house
doctor of the hospital, a son of Sir William
Kingston.
Dr. Kingston had been in the habit of
having long chats with him each day, and
in the long conference which followed
he admitted that he was none other than
Father Pat. He gave all his papers over
into the doctor's keeping, pledging him
to not reveal his identity until after his
death.
Toward the last he lost the power of
speech. To prevent suffocation he had
to submit to a severe operation on the
throat. When it was over he made a sign
for pencil and paper and wrote: "That
was needed, but it was hard." During
the night Dr. Kingston was called to see
him twice. When he was going away the
second time the dying pilot beckoned
him to come back and he clasped his hand
in a last good-bye. Early in the morning
he became unconscious. As the day wore
on he sank rapidly and toward noon of
January 13th he passed away without
regaining consciousness.
Dr. Kingston, speaking of him after-
ward, said that he had never seen so much
sweetness and strength combined in one
individual.
No sooner did the news of his death
reach British Columbia than requests
came pouring in that he should be buried
in the province, upon the life of which he
had so indelibly left the stamp of his own
lovable personality. This request was
granted. The body was brought west.
The casket was placed in the Cathedral
at New Westminster where crowds of
people came to pay their last tribute of
respect. And on a lovely afternoon he
was laid to rest in Sapperton cemetery
beside the wife he had loved so well.
Soon afterward a movement was started
for the purpose of erecting a monument
to his memory. A subscription list was
opened. And how the money did roll in!
Not that it came in big sums. It did
not. There were small sums for the most
part — contributed by the miners and the
common folk who had loved him. But
back of each contribution was the fervor
of a loving heart. What more fitting
close to such a self-sacrificing career?
The monument stands on the main
business corner of Rossland in the midst
of the whirl of its busy life. Aside from
being a monument it combines the use
of a street lamp and a drinking fountain;
one an emblem of the Light that he tried
to make shine among men, and the other —
typical of the Water of Life, at the fountain
of which he had so often bid the miners
drink. The inscriptions on the monument
are as follows:
On the face of it are these words:
RICH HE WAS OF HOLY THOUGHT
AND. WORK
In loving memory of
REV. HENRY IRVINE, M.A. (Oxon)
First Rector of St. George's Church, Rossland
Affectionately known as Father Pat
Obit, January 13th, 1902.
Whose life was unselfishly devoted to the
welfare of his fellow-man irrespective of
creed or class.
"His home was known to all the vagrant
train:
He chid their wanderings and relieved their
pain."
And on each side of the same stone
fountain are these shorter inscriptions:
On the east:
"I was thirsty, and ye gave me to drink."
On the west:
"I was an hungered and ye gave me to eat."
On the north:
"In Memoriam, Father Pat."
"He who would write an Epitaph for thee,
And do it well, must first begin to be
Such as thou wert. For none can truly know
Thy life, thy worth, but he that liveth so."
On the south :
"A man he was to all the country dear."
ONAL
A Z I N E
APRIL, 1911
PS £* tr
HINGTON
Joe Mitchell Gh&pple
HE excitement attend-
ing the close of the
Sixty-first Congress
was increased by the
President's announce-
ment of an extra ses-
sion to consider the
Canadian reciprocity
agreement. President
Taft had declared,
long before the filibustering of the closing
session began, that the failure of the
Sixty-first Congress to act upon the
reciprocity agreement with Canada would
oblige him to call an extra session.
Few of the members, however, took the
President at his word — indeed, wagers
were made between Senators that the
extra session would not be called. The
decisive official announcement made by
the President at the Capitol scarcely two
hours after the close of Congress, that an
extra session would be called for April 4,
created an unusual sensation.
Much has been said of late, regarding
President Taft's use of "the big stick" to
enforce certain well-defined policies. His
refusal to be swayed by partisan politics
has always won for him the respect of the
people, but his positive stand in enforcing
legislative action has called forth nation-
wide admiration.
A LTHOUGH the public is wont to
**• criticize the past Congress for its
refusal to act upon reciprocity with Canada,
yet much important legislation has been
enacted during its history. This legisla-
tion includes the Payne-Aldrich tariff
act, the establishment cf postal savings
banks, the creation of a Ccmmerce Court,
the resolution for an income tax amend-
ment and various other important mea-
sures.
The failure of this Congress entirely
to "clear the decks" will leave to the credit
of the new Congress the enactment of a
bill which is accounted to be of even
greater importance than the tariff act.
Thus the Sixty-second Congress has vir-
tually had thrust upon it an opportunity
to begin its history auspiciously.
T the least sensational incident at the
close of the Sixty-first Congress was
the resignation of Senator Joseph W.
Bailey of Texas, following Senator Owen's
filibuster to force the admission of Arizona
to statehood. Condemning the action of
the Democrats in taking a course "un-
representative of the Democratic party,"
Senator Bailey declared that he could no
longer work in harmony with them, and
hastily wrote out his resignation. Vice-
(743)
744
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
President Sherman refused to announce
this to the Senate, and Senator Bacon also
shook his head.
Governor Colquitt immediately wired
Mr. Bailey urging that he reconsider, and
after a deputation of Democratic members
had appealed to the Senator from Texas
as their acknowledged leader, he thought
things over and will retain his seat.
An able and brilliant speaker, Senator
Bailey's loss would have meant much to
his party, and in the Democratic camp
ASHER HINDS
One of the new Congressmen from Maine, formerly
clerk at the Speaker's desk
there was a general exchange of felicita-
tions that an impulsive act did not result
in Senator Bailey's permanent withdrawal.
'"THE retirement of Mr. Norton, private
* secretary to the President, also goes
into effect April 4, when Mr. Charles D.
Hilles, Assistant Secretary of the Treasury,
will succeed him. Mr. Norton leaves
public life to accept the vice-presidency
of the First National Bank, New York.
The public announcement was made at
a luncheon at Mr. Norton's home in honor
of his successor. Both men have served
as Assistant Secretary of the Treasury
and from that office received the higher
appointment. Mr. Hilles takes up his
new work with a long experience in finan-
cial circles, and promises to deal effec-
tively with the duties and responsibilities
of his new position.
A SHER C. HINDS, the new Congress-
•**• man from Maine, is well known in
the House of Representatives. For the
past sixteen years he has been the parlia-
mentarian of the House, or, according
to official designation, the "clerk at the
Speaker's table."
His first appointment was received from
Speaker Thomas Reed, and since taking
the position, Mr. Hinds' salary has been
increased from $2,200 to $3,600, with an
additional $1,000 for the compilation of
the annual digest.
Few members of the Sixty-second Con-
gress will be more familiar with the "rules
of the House" than Mr. Hinds, and his
progress as a member of that body will
be watched with especial interest. The
new Speaker will surely pay attention
when the new member from Maine makes
a point of order.
A SIDE from the many legislative
•**• changes incident to the outgoing of
the Sixty-first Congress, the resignation
of Secretary of the Interior Ballinger is
the first vacancy made in the personnel of
the President's Cabinet since his inaug-
uration. Mr. Ballinger retires to private
life, and will be succeeded by Mr. Walter L.
Fisher of Chicago.
President Taft's correspondence with
Mr. Ballinger in regard to his resignation
was singularly affecting, evidencing as it
did the sincere confidence of the Chief
Executive in the officers of his Cabinet,
and his disregard of the attacks made
upon them without foundation. He
served notice that even at the peril of
his political career, he would not counte-
nance what he considered unjust attacks,
to palliate popular impressions at the
expense of his sense of justice and con-
science, after hearing and knowing the
evidence at first hand.
746
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
AS I talked with my old friend Colonel
H. B. Hedge, United States Pension
Agent at Des Moines, Iowa, it was hard to
realize that half a century ago this genial
gentleman was one of the hard-hitting,
rough-riding, sharp-shooting troopers of the
Ringgold Cavalry, which, as an indepen-
dent Pennsylvania troop, was the first
"At Romney, Virginia," said Colonel
Hedge, "a small detachment was sent out on
scout and fell into an ambush. The
trooper just in front of me went down and
we came out of the fight with ten per cent
less men than when we rode out. I was
captured near Romney, but they chose to
take my horse and arms and let me go.
THERE WAS SERIOUS DISCUSSION OVER THE PROPOSITION OF HOUSEKEEPING SCHOOLS
cavalry mustered into the three-year Federal
service during the Civil War, and for over
a year was scouting and skirmishing in
eastern and western Virginia. After four-
teen months' service the company, with
six others, became the Ringgold Battalion,
and at the end of three years became the
Twenty - second Pennsylvania Cavalry,
serving until the close of the war. Besides
almost innumerable casual exposures to
long-range fire, the Ringgolds were in
over fifty battles, acting as
body-guard for General
Shields when wounded at
Winchester, and fighting at
Kernstown, Fisher's Hill, Ce-
dar Creek, on Hunter's Raid
and under Sheridan in his
famous Shenandoah Valley
campaigns, including many
fights of which historians
know nothing; but in which
every tenth man engaged
was killed or wounded.
"Suffice it to say, I saw enough of war
and smelled sufficient powder to convince
me that General Sherman's definition of it
was correct."
'"THERE was serious discussion down at
the Department of Commerce and
Labor regarding the advice of Deputy-
Consul General Hanauer of Frankfort,
that the Prussian government proposes to
ask in its next budget for
"housekeeping schools,"
whose teachers will traverse
Prussia, from place to place,
giving instruction in house-
keeping to the daughters of
farmers, mechanics and labor-
ers. The course of instruction
will take about eight weeks at
each place. Baking, cooking,
conserving and hermetically
sealing fruit and vegetables;
See "The Nobility of the Trades" poultry raising and breeding,
Page 841
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
747
dairy and stock service, raising fruit and
vegetables; sewing, repairing and cleans-
ing clothing; laundry work, house cleaning
and sanitation, even to the preservation
of health will be taught by the Prussian
teachers of the novel housekeeping schools.
Few of us realize that at this time there
exist in the Rhenish Province and else-
where in Germany schools of this kind
which are an immense success.
This is truly the age of service, and
practicality in the school curriculum is
taking the place of classical endeavor.
Not only is this being done for the students
of today, but the young men and women
who were educated under the old program
are enabled to get instruction in industrial
lines by means of the "continuation
school," which has already been experi-
mented with in Boston. The work was
begun less than a year ago, and the em-
ployers of certain selected lines gave
valuable co-operation. At present there
are courses in salesmanship, the dry goods
business and the shoe and leather industry.
The continuation school is free to students,
and its value as successor to the old ap-
prentice system, which required years of
menial labor while "learning the trade,"
cannot be over-estimated.
A FTER I had arrived in Washington
•**• and the usual greetings had been
exchanged, I took out my book and made
a summary of the things talked over
with five Senators, eight Representatives,
two members of the Cabinet and one
chief of a bureau, as to the matters upper-
most in the minds of the people.
One subject enthusiastically discussed
was the appeal made by the War Depart-
ment for aeroplanes. The French govern-
ment already has a squadron of sixty
or eighty airships, and the English govern-
ment is equally active, while the United
States owns one lonely little aeroplane,
which is included in the inventory
of the Signal Service Corps. An appeal
has been made to Congress for an appro-
priation adequate to keep pace, at least,
with European countries in the matter of
military aviation.
The new Signal corps has been doing
some important work. To see them lay
wires across field and forest makes one
think that he is looking upon an artillery
force or upon a prize battery of hose carts
instead of upon a signal corps. A cordon
of wireless stations extending from the
farthest north to the tropics is one of
the most important arteries that keeps
in direct touch with Washington.
Every day there are interested groups
in sight of the War Department watching
the globe, which at exactly five minutes be-
fore twelve, is sent up to the' top of a staff
on the tower. Everybody looks in that
MME. MARGUERITA SYLVA
Who made her debut as "Carmen" when only sixteen
direction, and at that time all work on
the telegraph lines throughout the country
is interrupted. Precisely at twelve it
drops, and the click is felt to the remotest
parts of the world to which the telegraph
wires reach, thus announcing the standard
time of the country.
longer may the phrase be used that
a debater in Congress "made the
sparks fly" — unless his colleagues are
arrayed in asbestos frock-coats.
Nearly all of the great catastrophes
that from time to time shock people as
they read the newspaper extras, receive
748
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
investigation at the hands of some one
of the government departments at Wash-
ington, just now the novel theory is ad-
vanced that a spark from the human body
was responsible for the great conflagra-
tion at Newark, New Jersey, in which
thirty lives were lost. The explosion of
a gasoline can by an electric spark from
a workman's finger is the explanation
given by high authorities. This does not
reflection that comparatively few persons
are capable of "sparking" to such a dan-
gerous extent.
Some philosophers now insist that thus
originated the old-fashioned term "spark-
ing," which may be true, but excites
"shocking" speculations as to the origin
of many mysterious conflagrations that
have puzzled the good people of this world
since time began.
THE SEASON APPROACHES WHEN THE TROUT ARE SIMPLY ACHING TO GRAB A FLY
AND THE FISHERMAN IS ALSO IN A RECEPTIVE MOOD
look so improbable when we realize that
some persons by "scuffling" across a
carpet or rug may generate sufficient
electricity to send sparks from their
finger-tips.
Now that it has been demonstrated
on high scientific authority and by those
who study into the causes of fires, that
a spark may be emitted from a man's
body, and set fire to a gasoline can, a
new element of danger is recognized, and
one so subtle and impossible of avoidance
that the only consolation possible is the
/CROWDS of visitors are daily throng-
V* ing the second floor of the New Na-
tional Museum, eagerly seeking a glimpse
of the trophies brought back from Africa
by the Roosevelt party. But alas, these
are snugly stowed away in the Smithsonian
Institute, and only a few samples are on
exhibition for these curious visitors.
The art collection of the National
Museum is very interesting. Many of
Moran's famous historical paintings are
there, and the admirable collection of
Harriet Lane Johnston, niece of President
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
749
Buchanan, throws a new light on the
administration of her distinguished uncle.
Brides and grooms linger long to look
over the furniture used by Washington
at Mount Vernon. In the great glass
cases are shown life-size figures of Ameri-
can native tribesmen, from the Esqui-
maux of the Alaskan floes to the Indians
of the tropics, and these furnish graphic
pictures of the life of the American abo-
rigines before they were civilized.
Such institutions as the National
Museum have a more vital educative
influence than can well be realized, follow-
ing out the old philosophy that what is
seen and enjoyed makes the most lasting
impressions. The new Museum is not
with for the thirty-fourth time, someone
told him of an acquaintance who had sold
his political birthright for "a mess of
pottage."
"You don't say," commented the Secre-
tary, with a smile playing about the corners
of his mouth. "Well, I know a man who's
just now watching the political caldron,
busy with a pot of message."
A MONO the first tariff commission
*"• bills introduced into Congress was
that of Representative James W. Good of
Iowa at the last session. His bill was
followed by that 'of Representative Len-
root of Wisconsin. Later the Longworth
IN THE EARLY DAYS OF OIL ONE WOULD NEVER HAVE DREAMED OF SEEING IT
HANDLED BY THE TRAIN LOAD AS IT IS TODAY
yet completed, but it promises to be one
of the most popular treasure galleries of
all the " Washington sights."
IT was during the days when the Presi-
^ dent was wrestling with the message.
It seemed as if unexpected kinks would
occur after paragraph upon paragraph
had been carefully "ironed out," and then
something else would appear to open
the forms again — more reports would
be needed and more information from the
different departments. The slogan seemed
to be "Curtail! Curtail!" until it seemed
as if things would never "come right."
But during all the trying period, Secre-
tary Knox could not lose his sense of
humor and as he began his fourteenth trip
across Executive Avenue to be conferred
bill incorporated the ideas of the other
two and came out at the time of the
meeting of the tariff commission con-
vention in Washington, before which the
President again declared. It is pretty
rough on a Congressman to have his pet
measures taken up and appropriated
almost bodily by others, but the great point
is to have a bill that will pass. "Pass" is
just as necessary a term in Congress as
in a poker game. The Lenroot bill pro-
vides for five commissioners to be appointed
by the President for terms of ten years
each. These men are required to possess
special qualifications and to have a practi-
cal knowledge of manufacturing industries.
One is to be a representative of labor,
one a lawyer, one a man who has made
a special study of tariff laws, another of
expert knowledge of accounting and one
750
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
an economist who has made a study of
wages.
The work of the commission as indicated,
is to ascertain the cost of articles in this
and other countries, the standards of
living, the cost of labor, the rates of fixed
charges, and the true value of capital
invested. The commission may hold
public meetings from time to time, or
such hearings as are customary with the
before the Interstate Commerce Com-
mission, which will virtually bring under
federal surveillance nearly every manu-
facturing industry of the country.
I WAS thinking the other day, as I saw
*• one of the cabinet ministers carelessly
throw his notes into the basket, that out
of the waste-baskets at Washington might
be gathered many scraps of
paper that would mean much
to future generations and the
modern student of civil gov-
ernment. When I mentioned
this to an old messenger whose
service in the Capitol dates
back to ante-bellum days, he
remarked that he had seen
borne out of the White House
many a basketful of Lincoln's
writings that would now be
priceless treasures for muse-
ums and libraries. "We little
thought of the fame that was
to come to him then," he said
with a thoughtful shake of the
head.
Washington is truly a place
of coming and going. As the
political tides ebb and flow,
one realizes how directly re-
sponsible are their public
servants to the people.
PETER VOORHEES DsGRAW
Fourth Assistant Postmaster General, who has had the magazine
publishers on the anxious seat for the past two months
Interstate Commerce Commission. It
is also provided that the testimony shall
be taken in secret session, if the witness
desires, and that it will not be reported
to Congress in detail unless Congress
express a desire for it. Mr. Lenroot be-
lieves that his bill will bring out many
points which could not be secured at
public hearings.
IN the spacious marble room
* of the Capitol on a January
day, Senator Carroll S. Page of
Vermont received the friends
who called to extend personal
birthday greetings. While con-
gratulations were being show-
ered upon him from all sides, a telegram
was brought in from his son, Russell Smith
Page of Vermont, and this the Senator
read aloud:
"Congratulations on the day and year —
Russell."
On the same day, Senator Smoot of
Utah was celebrating his birthday, and.
although the birth dates varied as to the
The commission is to be given power to year, 1843-1862, the two Senators con-
enforce the production of books, papers gratulated each other on the coincidence,
and documents as in the case of hearings and someone suggested that next year a
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
751
double birthday cake should be served on
the occasion.
It was the sixty-eighth birthday of
Senator Page, but a more energetic mem-
ber of the Senate never answered the roll
call. Systematic and businesslike in all
things, his thoroughness of character is
evidenced in his manner of attending to
his correspondence. No letter that reaches
the hands of the Senator from
Vermont ever remains long
unanswered.
In his campaign for re-elec-
tion, Senator Page received
the endorsement of not only
his own party, but of the op-
position as well, an unusual
compliment and quite without
precedent in the Green Moun-
tain State. A Democrat made
the speech nominating him,
the nomination was seconded
by another Democrat, and the
people of all parties through-
out the state heartily approved
the action of their legislators
in voting for a Republican
Senator. It must have been
gratifying to Senator Page that
his son, Russell Smith Page, a
member of the state legislature
from the Hyde Park district,
was one of the legislators to
vote for him, and with the
unanimous endorsement of his
neighbors at home.
The Senator has had a most
active career, and has perhaps
a larger personal acquaintance
among the farmers of the
country than any other man
in Congress, owing to his busi-
ness relations with many of
them in connection with the
great hide business which is now being
conducted by his son.
Senator Page is chairman of the Com-
mittee on Standards, Weights and Mea-
sures, and as a member of the Committee
on Agriculture and Forestry, he succeeded
the late Senator Proctor. Senator Page
also takes special interest in the work of
the Committee on Indian Affairs, of which
he is the only Eastern member from the
upper branch of Congress.
•"THERE was a day when a "government
* job" at Washington was regarded as
somewhat of a sinecure. Well-paid door
keepers, elevator men and [messengers
worked from 9 A. M. to 4 r. M. Then came
President Roosevelt, who directed that
the hours of labor should be stretched out
to 4.30, and now President Taft declares
that five o'clock shall be the end of the
SENATOR CARROLL S. PAGE OP VERMONT
Who recently celebrated his sixty-eighth birthday in Washington
government employe's day. The usual
thirty-day sick leave has not as yet been
changed, but it is persistently insisted that if
a policy of thrift and economy is to be
effective, the government should be the
first t© set the example.
The question of pensions for clerks has
also come up again, and has attracted
unusual interest, for it is believed that
when an old age pension policy is adopted,
the government employe will be among
752
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
the first named to receive such a pension.
A discussion of this matter by a group of
government clerks revealed the amusing
fact that they were eager for the passage
of the law, not as affecting their own
careers, but because it would remove from
office many aged employes who, though
now unable properly to perform their
duties, cause the younger clerks not only
extra work, but constant anxiety to avoid
exciting the sensitiveness of elderly men
who cannot believe that they have reached
RUSSELL SMITH PAGE
Member of the Vermont Legislature and son of United
States Senator Carroll S. Page
the end of their effectiveness, after they
have given a loyal life's service for the
government.
P Scotch descent and born in Bucking-
hamshire, England, March 25, 1862,
Senator George Sutherland of Utah is
one of the many naturalized citizens of the
United States who have attained promi-
nence in the halls of Congress.
Senator Sutherland is frank and open
in address, though somewhat scholarly
injexpression and bearing. But when in
action, whether on the floor of the Senate
or before a court, one at once realizes that
he is most of all a lawyer.
He studied at Ann Arbor, Michigan, and
was admitted to the bar in 1883. His
first political campaign elected him State
Senator from Utah. In 1900 he was a
delegate to the National Republican Con-
vention and again in 1904. After a term
as Representative in the Fifty-seventh
Congress, he declined renomination, but
was later elected to the Senate in 1905,
and re-elected in January, 1911, for the
term expiring in 1917.
In a recent speech Senator Depew de-
clared that Mr. Sutherland was "one of
the great constitutional lawyers of the
Senate," and at one time it seemed not
unlikely that he would be appointed a
justice of the Supreme Court by Presi-
dent Taft.
Senator Sutherland is very popular
with the home folk — as his nomination
for re-election, endorsed without a dis-
senting vote, plainly shows. Despite
his far-reaching legal knowledge and serious
mien, the Senator is reputed to be an ex-
cellent story-teller — and not "English
jokes," at that. He has a never-failing
fund of pleasant sayings and genial good
humor, and the State of Utah has reason
to be proud of his selection, and of his
social and political popularity.
T^ROM the attaches of the Russian court
•*• has just leaked out the information
that in May an American opera favorite
will entertain His Highness, the Czar, with
her trills and warbles.
Madame Marguerita Sylva, admired by
lovers of grand opera, as the world's
greatest "Carmen," has, the rumor goes,
been selected by the Czar to be the
principal at his yearly musicale in St.
Petersburg.
While touring Russia two years ago the
beautiful singer met the country's ruler,
who is said to be passionately fond of
music. The meeting was followed by an
invitation to sing at the 1910 musicale,
which Madame Sylva was forced to de-
cline. This year, however, she is said to
have accepted, and for three days preced-
ing the concert will be a guest at the
Metropolitan Palace,
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
753
Madame Sylva is now a member of the
Metropolitan Opera, singing in Philadel-
phia. Her success has been even greater
in heavier than in lighter roles. She
is known best by her "Carmen," which
American critics have proclaimed to be
quite flawless, and even more exquisite
than the "Carmen" offered by Calve.
When but sixteen years of age Madame
Sylva made her debut as "Carmen" at the
Drury Lane Theatre, London, and in three
years has given 119 portrayals of the char-
acter of the gypsy girl, singing with
fifty -eight different tenors.' In that time
not an unfavorable criticism has been
received.
The young artist has sung in nearly
every country of the world, and was the
foremost of Oscar Hammerstein's stars
last season. She is in great demand by
American light opera producers, who have
offered her fabulous prices to enter their
ranks. All of these offers she has stead-
fastly declined.
The fact that Madame Sylva has many
friends connected with the court of Russia
adds strength to the rumor that she will
be a guest of honor at the royal palace
during a part of the coming summer.
T^HE first room in the Capitol decorated
* by Brumidi, the famous Italian artist,
is occupied by Congressman John W.
Weeks of Massachusetts, the chairman of
the Committee on the post office and post
roads. The work was done in 1855 as a
test of Brumidi 's ability to execute the
greater wall paintings of the decorative
scheme. The principal decoration repre-
sents "Cincinnatus Leaving the Plough."
There are also contrasting pictures of the
Fast Mail over the Lake Shore Road, of
old style steamboats, and the now passe
features of the railway service of 1876.
It is no wonder that when the committee
were admitted to this room to inspect
Brumidi 's finished work, they promptly
told him to go ahead — that he had won
the commission. The bas reliefs of Wash-
ington and Jefferson painted on the wall
stand out as vividly as if cut in marble,
and a painted flag is so realistic that one
can almost see it wave; indeed, there is
a tradition that a bird flew into the room
and tried to alight upon its staff, so
complete was the illusion.
Later decorations representing pastures
and harvest scenes were added when the
room was occupied by the Agricultural
Committee. This chamber has recently
been the arena of many interesting hear-
ings— the ocean mail bill, the parcels post
bill and many other great propositions have
been discussed in this chamber.
At many of these hearings, petitions
from the people have played a prominent
MME. MARGUERITA SYLVA
The young Grand Opera singer who is gaining favor
both at home and abroad
part, but long lists of signed petitions are
now looked upon as rather unreliable evi-
dence, since no sooner has one side sent
in a petition carrying signatures of "sov-
ereign voters" than the opposition comes
back with a list equally as formidable.
It is said in some instances that the same
people have signed opposing papers,
showing that they have not given very
close attention to the prayer of the peti-
tion. In fact, it is claimed that there are
organizations whose only business is to
"manufacture" public sentiment, and that
the postal cards or telegrams sent in by
ardent advocates often delude the Senator
Photo by American Photo Company from an illustration in the book "Cuba" by Irene
A. Wright, copyright, 1910, by The Macmillan Company
CASAS RIVER — ISLE OF PINES
The Cuban tourist should not be content until he has visited the Isle of Pines, reached
by steamers which ply between Batabano and its ports; so shallow is the channel here
that the sands are stirred in passing. This island possesses the most salubrious climate,
and fever, plague and other ills which have taken possession of Cuba have passed it
by. The average temperature for the year 1907-1908 was 78.95 degrees. The air is
balsamic with the resinous fragrance of piny woods.
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
755
or Congressman into believing that some-
thing is really "doing" back home, when
very little interest is being taken by his
constituents.
Representative Weeks has long been
recognized as one of the strongest men
in Congress, and few members have
given committee work more arduous at-
tention. When the pension bill was pend-
ing, Mr. Weeks introduced an amendment
providing that no benefit should accrue
to any veteran having an income of over
one thousand dollars a year. "The pen-
sion is for those who need it," he declared,
as his amendment was offered; namely,
"that no part of the appropriation under
this act shall be paid to any person whose
annual income exceeds $1,000." The
provision was timely in the passage of the
pension appropriation of $45,000,000.
There have been many urgent requests
that Mr. Weeks be made chairman of the
Republican National Committee. Cool-
headed, equably poised, good-natured and
fair-minded, he has made a record that
reflects great credit to himself and his
state, to say nothing of the splendid dis-
trict that so keenly appreciates his con-
sistent statesmanship.
IF a roster were to be made of the strongly
* individualized members of the Sixty-
first Congress, the name of Samuel W.
McCall of Massachusetts would undoubt-
edly head the list. Very few Representa-
tives have maintained a more independent
career in the House, although Congress-
man McCall's name is associated with
much important legislation during the last
decade. His services on the Ways and
Means Committee, and as chairman of
the Committee on the Library, have dem-
onstrated his initiative force and inde-
pendence of thought and action.
In the consistent promotion of liberal
ideas for the adornment of Washington
and the Capitol, he has been an ardent
advocate of building new halls [for the
House adequate to the needs of the in-
creasing representation, and has enlisted
the enthusiastic interest of prominent
American architects in plans to make
these at least the peers of the great legis-
lative chambers of the world.
Congressman McCall's sense of beauty
and "the eternal fitness of things" is ex-
tremely sensitive, and the vacant pedi-
ment over the east portico of the House
has for many years offended his vision.
At last he has persuaded Congress to ap-
propriate seventy-five thousand dollars
to relieve the severe simplicity of this
pediment with sculptures in white marble,
J.EDMUND THOMPSON, A. B.
Author of " The Science of Exercise" (see page 891)
in high relief from the gray-toned and
weather-stained walls of the building.
He has also been successful in removing
the draped statue of Washington to the
Smithsonian Institute, where he thinks
it will be more appropriately placed,
especially in unseasonable weather.
Mr. McCall's most notable address out-
side the House was undoubtedly his
eulogy of Speaker Thomas Reed at the
unveiling of the Reed statue at Portland,
Maine. A close personal friend of the
756
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
ex-speaker, this address, embodying the
memories and sentiments suggested by
the unveiling of the monument, was
natural, pathetic and touching, and came
directly from the heart. The speech has
been preserved ^by many as one of the most
tender and affecting tributes ever paid to
a beloved friend and great statesman.
pOLLOWING up Senator Aldrich's sug-
* gestion that the government could
save three hundred thousand dollars a
year if proper busi-
ness methods were
enforced, Dr. Freder-
ick A. Cleveland was
summoned to demon-
strate how money
could be saved in the
executive depart-
ments. ,
It is believed that
the twelve thousand
dollars paid to Dr.
Cleveland will be one
of the best invest-
ments that the gov-
ernment has made
for some time, for it
has been determined
and announced that
the affairs of the gov-
ernment are hence-
forth to be managed
with a scrupulous re-
gard for economy
and the purpose of
securing the worth
of money paid out as salaries. Cabinet
officers, bureau chiefs and clerks have been
interviewed in order to make a complete
investigation of the existing conditions.
It is said that Dr. Cleveland was chosen
to manage this delicate and difficult task
at the suggestion of Secretary Norton.
During his service as assistant secretary
of the treasury, Mr. Norton felt that the
treasury system was defective, and in
trying to remedy it, saw that reforms could
only be properly carried out by an expert.
The new appointee has made an exhaustive
study of finance at the University of
Chicago, and also at the University of
Pennsylvania, where he was made a
COUNT CONRAD DE BUISSERET
Minister from Belguim, who has written three plays,
which are to be tried out at the new Washington
"playhouse," opened February 9
Doctor of Philosophy and a Fellow of
Economics. For some time he has been
actively indentified with the finance in-
vestigating committee of New York City.
VJJ7HILE walking along the corridor of
W the House Office Building, I dropped
in to make a fraternal call, as a newspaper
editor, on George Winthrop Fairchild,
the congressman so well known to printers
throughout the country.
Mr. Fairchild, when a lad of fourteen,
served his time in a
printing office in his
native town of One-
onta, New York. Af-
ter having acquired a
speed of nine thou-
sand ems a day as a
"comp," and the
skill for making up
a local page in an
hour, and for "sizing
up the 'personals' " in
very short order, the
youthful printer was
presented with Web-
ster's dictionary as a
gift from his employ-
ers. The fly-leaf was
inscribed :
"This is to certify that
George W. Fairchild has
served a due apprenticeship
in the Art Preservative of all
Arts, and is entitled to all
rights and privileges of a
journeyman printer."
To this day Mr.
Fairchild has that
dictionary, and despite his extensive manu-
facturing interests, he has always retained a
keen interest in the newspaper business.
He still owns the newspaper at Oneonta, and
declares that the day has not yet dawned
when he can resist the sniff of benzine
and the lure of ink. He likes to recall
the old days when he inked the forms,
from the marble slab which always seems
to have found its way to the country print-
ing office from a nearby graveyard. He
knows all about printers' "pi," and insists
that his interest in the art preservative
will always be maintained. He is a union
printer, and was at one time the president
of a typographical union in New York state.
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
757
Congressman Fairchild's father, Jesse
Fairchild, was descended from an ancestor
of that name who came from England in
1639, and settled at Stratford, Connecti-
cut. One of his maternal ancestors
was Thomas Morenus, a soldier of the
Revolution, who after the war settled in
Otsego , County, New York, and whose
estate has been in the family ever since.
When elected to the Sixtieth Congress,
Mr. Fairchild had never before held pub-
lic office. He is a practical business man
and has done much to build up the inter-
ests of his native town. There is not a
constituent in the "Twenty-fourth New
York" district who does not feel at per-
fect liberty when at Washington to drop
in for a friendly chat with Congressman
Fairchild. His services upon the Com-
mittee of Expenditures in the Post Office
Department and on the Merchant Marine
and Fisheries Committee, and his re-elec-
tion in New York State in spite of the
Democratic avalanche, demonstrates un-
mistakably the earnest way in which Mr.
Fairchild has served his constituents.
" I IFE is a jest and all things show it:
L j I thought so once and now I know it."
sang the poet Gay; and although the
President appreciates the necessity of
upholding the dignity of the Chief Execu-
tive, still, like Oliver Cromwell, he "loves
an innocent jest."
He was to attend a fashionable bazaar
held at the New Willard for sweet charity's
sake, and started out accompanied by
Captain Butt and two secret service
guards, Messrs. Sloan and Wheeler.
The party were cordially welcomed by
the Reception Committee, and were about
to be permitted to enter the hall when the
President whimsically decided to pay his
way in like the other patrons of the
charity. Walking up to a desk where the
tickets were on sale, he inquired, "How
much are the tickets?"
"Two dollars," replied the young lady
in charge sweetly.
Plunging into his spacious trousers'
pocket the Presidential right hand brought
forth two one dollar bills, which he passed
to the ticket seller, and nodding to his trio
of companions, he entered the hall.]
"Lend me two dollars, Jack," whispered
Captain Butt to Wheeler, "left my money
at home."
"So did I," mourned Wheeler. (The
party were attired in dress suits.)
"Never mind, I'll take care of you both,"
hastily offered Jimmie Sloan, with be-
coming magnanimity. The others breathed
a sigh of relief as he approached the desk.
"Three tickets, please," he announced
calmly, producing a crisp five-dollar bill.
CONGRESSMAN GEORGE W. FAIRCHILD
Who began his career in a country printing office and
now represents the Twenty -fourth district of New York
"Another dollar, please," gently re-
marked the young lady at the booth.
"Another dollar! H — how m— much
did you say those tickets were?" demanded
James.
"Two dollars each."
Jimmie was blushing a rosy red when
Wheeler came to the rescue. A passing
bell-boy was taken by the collar and a
few of the morning's tips were removed
from his inside pocket. Then four silver
quarters were placed triumphantly upon
the table, and the three passed inside.
758
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
MOW that it has at last been decided
*^ that the Panama Canal Exposition
is to be held at San Francisco, the head-
quarters of the New Orleans and San
Francisco committees will no longer be a
rendezvous for interested Washingtonians.
There were lively times at the Capital
when the controversy was at its height.
The Louisiana contingent came up headed
by the governor and the mayor of New
Orleans. The Ebbitt House was gaily
decorated with the products of the Creole
state, and open house in the full warmth
CONGRESSMAN HAYES OF CALIFORNIA
Who was a very busy man during the Panama Canal
Exposition controversy
and generosity of Southern hospitality
was the order of the day. Such delicious
French coffee and rolls and other viands
for which the Crescent City is famous,
were lavishly distributed, and placated
many opponents of the Gulf City propo-
sition. The speeches before the Committee
revived memories of the fervor and elo-
quence of Pierre Soule and other New
Orleans orators, and though it was a losing
fight, the delegation from the South cer-
tainly did its level best to secure the prize.
I San Francisco had headquarters across
the way at the New Willard, but there
were not many delegates in the rooms,
for everyone was out looking for votes.
You could tell a California man a mile
away when he had a Congressman in a
corner, and the coy San Franciscans asked
for no money for the exposition, but the
fact that they had raised seventeen million
dollars themselves and were prepared to
carry the plan through without assistance,
was made good use of by the delegates.
While the. struggle was at white heat,
there were few busier men about the
House than Representative Everis A.
Hayes of San Jose. He represents a
portion of San Francisco, and was returned
to Congress this fall by a majority of over
eighteen thousand, a handsome endorse-
ment of the efficient work which he has
accomplished in representing his district.
Mr. Hayes is always alert, and while
keeping in mind the interests of his con-
stituents, he has always been an active
and aggressive advocate of what he be-
lieves to be most beneficial to the country
at large. For many years Congressman
Hayes was an active mine-owner on the
Gogebic range in northern Wisconsin.
He has had a wide experience in both
public and private business, and the San
Jose district is signally proud of its efficient
Representative.
During his term in Congress, Mr. Hayes
has been a very active worker on the Im-
migration and Naturalization Committee,
having made a special study of these sub-
jects, which are of vital importance on
the Pacific Coast.
OTORIES of Rear Admiral E. H. C.
*-* Leutze, formerly commander of the
navy yard at Washington, come in now
and then from the New York yard, of
which he is at present in charge.
Not long ago someone reported to the
admiral that a machinist in the shops
had threatened to kill him on sight.
"Shall I dismiss him?" queried the captain,
after a salute.
"No," said the admiral thoughtfully,
"tell him I wish to see him."
A burly, surly machinist was ushered
into the* private office. He looked a bit
sheepish.
"Well, my man," said the admiral,
getting up from his desk and going to
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
759
meet him, "and so you have called me
names and declared your intention of
licking me on sight."
The machinist mumbled that he had
been misquoted.
"Good enough! but do you really think
that you could thrash me?" insisted the
admiral. "Here's your chance; we are
quite alone." The admiral was ready to
have it over with, right then and there.
The machinist still protested that there
was some mistake, and finally Leutze cut
short the interview. "Well now, my man,
go back to your work. I'm glad to make
your acquaintance. I wanted to be pre-
pared for the killing when it occurs."
* * *
A FTER six years' active service in the
**' House, Congressman Albert F. Daw-
son of the Second District of Iowa volun-
tarily retires at the close of the Sixty-first
Congress to resume his business career.
He has accepted the presidency of the First
National bank of Davenport, Iowa — one
of the strong financial institutions of the
Central West, and the first national bank
in operation in the United States. Mr.
Dawson entered the House at thirty-two
years of age, but had been well known in
Washington circles for some years previous,
having served as private secretary to the
late Senator William B. Allison. Mr.
Dawson was one of the most active
of the younger members of the House, and
was especially prominent in the work on
the Appropriation and Naval Committee.
He was also tendered the position of pri-
vate secretary to President Taft but
declined the honor.
A year ago he announced that he would
not accept renomination, and despite the
efforts of his friends to dissuade him from
retiring, he held his ground. Many of his
colleagues who were swept into the "lame
duck" class by last November's landslide
now point to Mr. Dawson's action as an
evidence of keen foresight, particularly as
his district went Democratic last fall by
nearly three thousand majority.
TTHE irresistible tendency of Americans
A traveling abroad to talk about the
larger and broader scope of action and
results of development in the United States,
naturally leads foreigners, who cannot
realize the difference in conditions and
popular opinion and enterprise, to set
down the average American as a confirmed
if patriotic boaster. The United States
government has long been regarded as
the "biggest thing on earth," but a recent
report states that the railroad business
in this country costs twice as much as
the total expenses of the government
itself, and that the gross earnings are
Photo by Muenzer
HON. ALBERT F. DAWSON
Who has represented the Second Congressional dis-
trict of Iowa for the past six years
more than treble the treasury receipts.
Not many years ago the British shipping
interests were admitted to be the most
gigantic industry of the world, but the
American railroads, with an income of
nearly $3,000,000,000 in round numbers,
represent more than two-thirds of the
entire stock of money existing in the
United States. In less than two years, the
net income of the railroads wouldjiquidate
the entire national debt.
This 'tremendous development has come
in spite of certain natural and well-defined
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
handicaps and perhaps emphasizes the
oft-quoted truth that no great success is
ever built up without overcoming formid-
able obstacles.
TV7HILE the railroads are being pep-
™ pered with advice on scientific re-
ductions of expenses, and city folk are
wrought up over local politics and the
management of public-service corporations,
attention must be called to the fact that
the old conventional idea of the farmer
must be changed, for
the present-day agri-
culturist is a different
being.
Now, the keen eye
of the railroad mag-
nate can see where
the farmer is letting
millions of dollars go
to waste, but perhaps
the farmer, on the
other hand, can show
the railroad man a
thing or two. The
gaunt, poorly -clad
individual of former
days, with demoral-
ized "galluses," the
traditional cowhide
boots, jeans and un-
bleached ' ' hickory ' '
shirt, belongs to a
past day and age. To-
day, when three fair
hogs can be sold for
a hundred dollars
apiece each season, and when good money
can be had on farm products, such * 'lux-
uries" as collars, cuffs, derbies and neck-
ties have a ready sale at the village store.
While the subject of the cost of pro-
duction is being investigated by scientists,
the farmer has unostentatiously ; but
practically, been giving the same problem
effective attention.
DATRONS of the rural delivery service
A will be pleased to learn that Post-
master-General Hitchcock has re'com-
mended that on such, routes as he shall
elect, at such rates as he shall determine,
parcels shall be transported and delivered
as other mail if they do not exceed eleven
pounds in weight, three feet six inches in
length, and a girth of thirty inches. This
will preclude the average "fish that Jimmie
caught."
The rate will probably be twelve cents per
pound, or three-quarters of a cent per ounce ;
at which rate a Canadian or European
can send like parcels to any part of the
United States, under existing interna-
tional parcels post agreements. Why the
system should not be made general, if it
is already granted to
aliens, is legitimate
matter for inquiry;
but if our farmers can
have its benefits, it
will do much to re-
lieve the loneliness of
those who live at a
considerable distance
from any town.
FRED P. FELLOWS
Author of "A Century's Growth in Federal
Expenditures" (see page 795)
AND now comes a
•**• warning from Dr.
Wiley against the use
of tea and coffee to
excess. He says that
many people are
keenly sensitive to
the soluble constitu-
ents of these bever-
ages, the most active
of which are the alka-
loids, theobromine
and caffeine. He ad-
vises parents not to
allow children to form the habit of drink-
ing tea or coffee, for caffeine is one of the
habit-forming drugs. The evil effects
from excessive drinking of these beverages
are of course not so acute as indulgence in
alcoholic drinks, and Dr. Wiley believes
that a grown person should have a right
to choose his own food. However, he
would caution everyone against using
too much tea or coffee and when one
feels that he is becoming a slave to either,
the danger flag is hoisted and the warning
should not be neglected.
While the tea-drinker with disordered
nerves or impaired digestion does not
incur the penalties risked by the drunkard,
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
76 1
he is in danger of forming a dangerous
drug habit. And to think that Dr. Wiley
should give such a heartless interview just
at the time of his honeymoon, at a
cosy table, with two cups of ambrosial tea
or coffee in Edenic juxtaposition!
MANY successful plays have first been .
tried in Washington. Both " Little
Lord Fauntleroy" and "The Little Minis-
ter" first saw the public footlights in the
Capital city. A typical Washington
audience witnessed the initial performance
of Mr. H. S. Sheldon's new play, 'The
Havoc." It was a critical gathering, one
well calculated to detect any "pin-holes"
that might exist in the construction or
action of the play.
"The Havoc" is unique in that it em-
ploys only four characters, and one of
these is but an algebraic factor — a "fourth
dimension," as it were. Entering the
theater during the last of the first act, it
was impressive to find the audience in
the dark, every eye centered upon the
stage, every ear strained to hear, like
children listening to a fairy tale.
The plot is formed upon the old eternal
triangle used by so many dramatists —
two men and a woman. A friend who
comes to board with a young couple,
makes love to the wife. Discovering this,
the husband decides not to shoot at the
climacteric moment, but suggests that mat-
ters be arranged for the friend to marry
the wife, letting him be the boarder. The
plan is agreed upon, but it soon tran-
spires that a mistake has been made.
The boarder is an exponent of a new
"philosophy" and of "free love," and does
not relish living under old-fashioned con-
ventionalities. The many tense dramatic
situations reveal Mr. Henry Miller at his
best in the interpretation of the cool-
headed and well-poised hero, John Craig.
The last act shows Craig at his desk as
general manager of a railroad. The man
who stole his wife is brought before him
as a defaulter. The wife, in order to spare
her child, is willing to work — to do any-
thing to pay the amount of the embezzle-
ment on condition that the defaulter
goesj[away forever. In the twinkling of
an eye, she accepts her old position as
stenographer, and hangs up her wraps
while John Craig answers a telephone
call. Her husband shrinks from the room
and the curtain falls, leaving the audience
to complete the plot.
The play was written by Mr. H. S.
Sheldon, a young Danish actor who came
to this country a few years ago to study
the writing of drama from an actor's
standpoint. He played with Wright
Lorimer in "The Shepherd King," and has
written many humorous skits for vaude-
HON. CALEB POWERS
Congressman-elect from Kentucky
ville. "The Havoc" is his first real play,
and represents the one absorbing work
of his life.
While we discussed it — its plot, produc-
tion, and moral — the author rose and
walked about the room, acting the parts
as the lines were recited. John Craig,
the husband, was clearly his hero, and
Henry Miller's work in this part even
excels his success in the late William
Vaughn Moody 's "The Great Divide."
As I talked with Mr. Sheldon and noticed
his affectionate glances toward the minia-
ture likeness of his wife and little baby,
762
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
I could well understand why such a fervent
plea had been made for the sanctity of the
marriage vow. "The Havoc" is a keen
thrust at Bernard Shaw and Ibsen, whose
pens have given such undeserved promi-
nence to sentiment and selfish desires, and
tend to undermine the old fixed standards
of purity and love that have existed
through the centuries.
It was observed that during the play
the sentiments and situations that evoked
applause were participated in largely by
men. Whisperings were also afloat that
Mr. Miller found great difficulty in pro-
curing a leading lady for the chief role.
Miss Laura Hope Crews, however, seemed
to identify herself fully with the author's
conception. The play is a
very effective antidote for
the Ibsen fever, and as the
audience passed out, there
was much earnest talk and
thoughtful discussion.
AT the extreme right of
** the Chief Justice sits
Associate Justice Willis Van
Devanter of Wyoming, who
when he took the oath of
office January 3 realized his
life ambition. Born in In-
diana, and admitted to the
bar when only 22 years of JUSTICE VAN
age, he went to "the Golden
Northwest" and located in the then
sparsely settled territory of Wyoming.
His fellow-citizens were quick to recognize
his splendid ability, and after having
served as city attorney, legislator, and
member of a commission to revise the
Territorial Code, he was appointed to the
Supreme Court of Wyoming in 1889 by
President Harrison.
Various federal positions were offered
the young territorial Chief Justice, but
his movements were guided entirely by
such service as would best equip and
prepare him for high professional and
judicial service. As assistant Attorney-
General assigned to the Department of
the Interior, he so distinguished himself
that President Roosevelt in 1903 made
him United States Circuit Judge for the
Eighth Circuit. As a member of the
Circuit Court bench, the Judge sustained
his reputation as a jurist of exceptional
ability, and his appointment to the Su-
preme bench by President Taft is a worthy
culmination to a career whose future
seems to have been pre-ordained.
The personnel of the Supreme Court,
as now constituted, has met with the
hearty approval of lawyers all over the
country, irrespective of party. This is
especially notable because the Chief
Justice and three of the nine justices on
the bench have been appointed by Presi-
dent Taft. A lawyer himself first, last
and always, each of the President's selec-
tions was prompted by consideration of
judicial ability rather than by deference
to any sectional or partisan
interest.
The forthcoming decis-
ions of the Supreme Court,
it is felt, will be remarkable
for virility, concise and
comprehensive expression,
legal accuracy and exact
justice, such as in the con-
viction of our President-
Judge should characterize
the highest tribunal of the
Republic.
IN his late report to the
_ ._ . _ Secretary of War, Major-
General Wood , Chief - of -
Staff, states that there is no adequate sup-
ply of reserve ammunition for the heavy
ordnance of the forts, and by no means
a sufficiency of light and heavy field
artillery and ammunition for an army
in active service. He says that if we were
called upon to fight a first-class power
today, we should have just about one-half
the field artillery and ammunition needed
for the existing regular army and organized
militia; and that at the rate hithert;
set by Congress in the matter of appro-
priations, it will take about fifty years to
supply these deficiencies. In case of the
need of a large volunteer army, there
would be no field artillery for the increased
force, and the State militia force is very
weak in this indispensable arm.
Also General Wood strongly urges
the passage by Congress of the pending
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
763
bill for raising a volunteer army, which
will save millions in time of war. Under
the present law the general staff cannot
make preparations in advance of war for
its execution. The General also advocates
the adoption of 610 officers
to replace those detailed from
line duties for staff and mili-
tia work; the creation of a
reserve of not less than three
hundred thousand men who
have served in the regular
army or militia; the concen-
tration of the canteen; and
finally an increase of the
signal corps and the acquisi-
tion of aeroplanes.
Judging from this report,
we are much more likely to
arrive at the peace millen-
nium, than at a time when
Congressional appropriations
will fill our arsenals with suf-
ficient field guns and ammu-
nition enough to meet the
first three weeks' brunt of
any war with "a feller of our
own size."
YV7ITH the opening of the
W Sixty -second Congress,
the father of railroad rate leg-
islation, Honorable Charles E.
Townsend of Michigan, takes
up his important work in the
Senate, and adds another
farmer's boy to the Senator-
ial roll-call. Years ago when
railroad rate bills were in
their infancy, I recall meet-
ing and becoming interested
in the new Representative
from Michigan who wrote one
of the. first of these bills ever
introduced into Congress.
Mr. Townsend is a lawyer,
but his practice of law did not follow the
completion of a college education arranged
for him by his parents. "The Townsends
were always poor," he declares with fine
simplicity — and the Senator's success is
due largely to his own efforts.
When in a reminiscent mood, he likes
to tell of how his college education was
obtained. His first year at the University
of Michigan was paid for by a kind friend
who advanced the young man two hundred
dollars on his note, without security, and
before he was of age. After his freshman
MISS LUCINDA CARPENTER PENNEBAKER
Daughter of Mr. and Mrs. C. B. Pennebaker. She led the minuet at
the Southern Relief Ball, at the New Willard, and is accounted one
of Washington's most charming social lights
year, young Townsend came home to
work and pay his indebtedness. Then
he taught school for fifty dollars a month,
and later became Superintendent of Schools
in a nearby town at a salary of nine hun-
dred dollars per year. The great desire
of his heart was to become a lawyer, but
all this time the young teacher was very
764
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
much in love with a playmate of former
days — they were married, and the law
course abandoned — for a time.
It was as a delegate from Sandstone
Township to the Republican County
Convention that Mr. Townsend had his
first experience in politics. To his utter
surprise, his name was mentioned as a
candidate for the office of Register of
MISS RUTH WYNNE
Debutante daughter of former Postmaster-General
and Mrs. Wynne, who recently returned from London,
where Mr. Wynne served as Consul General. Miss
Wynne was presented to Washington society January
3, 1911. She wore the gown she was presented in at
the Court of King Edward and Queen Alexandra
Deeds. He was about to decline the honor
because he had already accepted an offer
to teach school at Parma; but the school
directors of that town telephoned that
Mr. Townsend might accept the nomina-
tion, which he did. A real, old-fashioned
campaign was conducted, with speeches
among old friends in the evening — for
school kept every day. He was elected
by an eight hundred majority, and after
having taken public office, Mr. Town-
send completed his law studies, and was
admitted to the bar.
One of his first important cases was
brought by the railroads to restrain the
state of Michigan from taxing the value
of their property instead of their earnings.
He was one of the Attorneys for the State.
During this case a host of witnesses was
examined, and the lately graduated at-
torney spent two busy years in a study of
the railroad business. His interest in
this branch seemed to presage the later
work by which he has become famous.
Mr. Townsend was elected to Congress
in 1902, and was appointed by Speaker
Cannon as a member of the Committee
on Interstate and Foreign Commerce.
When he came to Washington, he "stood
around and listened," as he grimly re-
marks, with a keen ear for anything that
pertained to railroad matters. At the
first opportunity he suggested to the
Interstate Commerce Commission that
those who used the railroads should be
allowed a hearing and should be permitted
to "tell their troubles" to the Committee.
With fine sarcasm he was reminded that
there had been such hearings for ten years
past. The matter was put in "cold stor-
age," as it were, for the time being, but
after having made the acquaintance of
some of his colleagues, Mr. Townsend
found one man, Congressman John J.
Esch of Wisconsin, who agreed with him
on the proposition, and together they pre-
pared resolutions making railroad rate
hearings an important part of proceedings
at the Committee meeting the following
December.
Both Congressmen spent a busy vaca-
tion. Mr. Townsend began a corre-
spondence campaign with railroad shippers
throughout the country for information.
He went up to Wisconsin to consult with
Mr. Esch, and after careful preparation,
two bills were drawn — one that provided
for a commerce court, to hear and decide
controversies about rates; the other an
amendment of the existing law, empower-
ing the Interstate Commerce Commission
to decide upon the fairness of a new rate
as soon as it was announced by a railroad.
When Congress met in December, both
bills were dropped into the legislative
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
705
hopper, one marked "Townsend," the
other "Esch." Later these were con-
solidated into one bill, and this bill passed
the House at the close of the Fifty-eighth
Congress, but failed of passage in the
Senate. At the beginning of the Fifty-
ninth Congress Mr. Townsend introduced
a new bill, while Chairman Hepburn intro-
duced a similar bill which was considered
and became a law; thus the Townsend
proposition became the Hepburn law.
Though the names of Esch and Townsend
were not used on the bill which they had
composed, neither stopped active work on
the proposition.
The passage of the bill by Congress,
and the endorsement by the President,
must have been gratifying to the Michigan
Congressman, who enters the Upper House
next term, and, as Senator Townsend, will
devote much time and energy working
for proper measures in behalf of the people.
pHE bards of past centuries, like "the
1 old masters" and the defunct "states-
men" of generations cnider and more
unlettered than we, are still immortalized
for what they said or sung or did. And
it is well, since the public appreciation of
such men, like a century plant, never
carries to the glory of its perfect flowering
during the generation with which it came
into being. Yet it seems regrettable that
great poets should sing and labor among
us, and go out of life without chat full and
adequate reward of wealth and honor,
which is their due.
Sam Walter Foss, poet and humorist of
New England, who has just passed away
in his fifty-third year, was one of a num-
ber of American poets, who in this utili-
tarian age sang chiefly for very love of
song-making. For book publishers look
askance at offered volumes, and the aver-
age journal pays nothing or very little for
poetic contributions.
Of these conditions loyal, modest, true-
hearted Sam Walter Foss was never kjiown
to complain. His muse affected the gay
and cheerful rather than the tragic and
mournful, and was largely true to that
Doric simplicity, expressed in Yankee
dialect, and homely figures of expression
and speech; yet his work lacked neither
true dignity nor inspiration. Who that
has read "The Volunteer Organist" can
claim that any of a score of "standard"
English bards has ever written a poem
of deeper intensity of feeling and beauty
of expression of the power of music?
His "Back Country Poems" (1894) , "Whiffs
from Wild Meadows" (1896), "Dreams in
Homespun" (1897), "Songs of War and
Peace" (1898), and "Songs of the Average
Man" (1909), have had a steady sale,
and will undoubtedly in due time be con-
densed into a volume or two of "Poems"
CHARLES E. TOWNSEND
United States Senator from Michigan
and become an American classic, for gene-
rations to come.
Born at Candia, New Hampshire, June
19, 1858, a son of Dyer and Polly (Hardy)
Foss, he was entitled to claim kinship
with Daniel Webster, William Pitt Fes-
senden and John G. Whittier. His early
farm life left many pleasant memories
and a vivid comprehension of natural
beauty and rural associates, and colored
deeply his literary works in after life.
He had a good public and high school
education, and graduated from Brown
University as the class poet of 1882.
He became one of the proprietors of the
Lynn Union, and his humorous writings
766
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
for that paper led up to his employment
by Tid-Bits, Puck, Judge, the New York
Sun, and other publications. From 1887
to 1892, he was occupied as editor of
The Yankee Blade, and editorial writer
on the Boston Globe, which employments
he left for literary work, and public read-
ings and lectures, until in May, 1898, he
became librarian for the Somerville Public
Library, a position he held until his death.
The keynote of his scheme of life, and
one which all testify was no sentimental
aspiration, but lived out from day to day,
THE LATE SAM WALTER FOSS
is best expressed in his "House By the Side
of the Road."
"Let me live in a house by the side of the
road,
Where the race of men go by —
They are good, they are bad, they are weak,
they are strong,
Wise, foolish — so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the
road
And be a friend to man."
What more can be said, but "Hail
and Farewell"; unless we be permitted
to express the hope that already the nobler
and immortal entity of this departed friend
may have realized the expectation em-
bodied in the last verse of his cheery and
noble poem, "Hullo":
"Say 'Hullo' and 'How d'ye do?'
Other folks are as good as you,
When you leave your house of clay,
Wandering in the far away,
When you travel in the strange
Country far beyond the range,
Then the souls you've cheered will know
Who you be and say 'Hullo!' "
TT doesn't seem so long ago that I saw
* Chase Osbora bending with wrinkled
brow over the imposing stone in a news-
paper office out in Wisconsin, carefully con-
sidering the purchase of the outfit. He
had decided to begin a journalistic career
and was looking for "a location." For-
tunately for him, he didn't buy that
paper, but settled down at the Ste. St.
Marie, where the great locks that guard
the deep water channel from Lake Superior
to Lake Huron furnished inspiration to
the youthful editor and proprietor.
It has been some time since I saw this
boy who was casting about for a news-
paper "location," but recollections of
that keen, black-eyed young man, full of
nervous energy and ability, but who
never lost his temper when he "pied" a
galley of type or smashed his thumb in
the job-press, have often been in mind.
His name somewhat suggests the man,
for Chase Osborn has always been on a
chase, and a lively chase at that.
Born in a one-room log cabin, at South
Bend, Indiana, he began his career as a
newsboy selling papers in the street, and
later added typesetting to his list of ac-
complishments. At fifteen he entered
a lumber mill, and in 1876 he tramped to
Philadelphia to see the Centennial Exposi-
tion. Returning West, he served as a
porter in a hotel, and later reported for a
time on the Chicago Tribune. In Mil-
waukee he drove a coal team, and loaded
lumber on boats until, having for some
time solicited for a promising daily, he
bought out a newspaper office chiefly
on credit. How well I remember looking
for that newspaper week after week in
the pile of exchanges, and feeling that it
was like a personal letter from the hopeful,
energetic young editor.
His political career began with his
AFFAIRS^AT WASHINGTON
767
appointment as postmaster. Later he
was made a game warden, ran for Congress
and was appointed railroad commissioner
in rapid succession.
Then came his greatest good fortune—-
the discovery of an iron range, from which
he obtained a competency. He spent
some years in visiting the chief iron-pro-
ducing countries of the world. His pub-
lished travels give interesting accounts
of his experiences during the Chinese war
and while observing conditions in Siberia,
also of his observations and experiences
in the Turkish Revolution. He returned
to Michigan to re-enter the field of politics,
and has had the unprecedented honor
of being the first governor of Michigan
from the "Upper Peninsula."
His originality and honest frankness
were strikingly evidenced at the inaugural
ceremony at Lansing, where after the
State officers were sworn in and the usual
salute of seventeen guns had been fired,
the new Governor tenderly kissed his
aged mother, who had come all the way
from South Bend, Indiana, to attend
the inaugural, and who declared that the
proudest moment of her life was when she
heard her son take the oath of office to
be Governor of the State which he had so
devotedly served in his remarkable career.
There was no "gold lace" at this in-
auguration— simple frock coats and silk
hats were the order of the day; and since
taking the gubernatorial seat, it has been
apparent to all that the new Governor
means to have an above-board, straight-
forward administration. When the usual
visiting deputations of office-seekers began,
Governor Osborn insisted that his callers
"talk right out loud," and forget about
whispering. He always talks out loud
himself, and can't see why any man
"should be afraid to let everybody hear
what's on his mind if it's honest." Not
the least of Chase Osborn's virtues is his
refreshing frankness. He has taken up
his new duties in a business-like way,
and has already electrified public senti-
ment by demanding the resignation of
two members of the State Board of Pardons
for an alleged venal agreement to pardon
out two men serving life sentences for
murder.
It is a foregone fact that Michigan
will have under Governor Osborn an
administration which will be a credit to
that Commonwealth.
ADVICE from the Department of
Agriculture sometimes takes the
form of a first-class legal bulletin for the
HON. CHASE SALMON OSBORN
Governor of Michigan
unwary. "All persons are warned by the
United States Department of Agriculture,"
we read in a letter from the Bureau of
Animal Industry, "not to eat pork or
sausage containing pork, whether or not
it has been inspected by federal, state or
municipal authorities, until after it has
been properly cooked."
This statement follows an exhaustive
investigation of the danger of trichinosis,
from eating raw or imperfectly cooked
768
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
pork. The trichina, a microscopic flesh -
worm, infests a small per cent of the hogs
slaughtered in this country, and when
transmitted to human beings, this parasite
may cause serious illness or even death.
No method of inspection has as yet been
devised by which the buyer of pork may
be assured against trichinae, but a tempera-
ture of 160 degrees Fahrenheit is war-
ranted to kill the parasite. Thus pork
may be eaten without danger of infec-
tion, and the parasite, horror of fastidious
MRS. HENRY D. CLAYTON
souls, eaten without danger of recognition.
Dry salt pork, pickled pork and smoked
pork previously salted or pickled, pro-
viding the curing is thorough, are safe
enough. But to be quite, quite sure,
one must obey the 160 degree law before
sitting down at the kitchen table to enjoy
a luncheon of pigs' feet.
MO young couple in social Washington
1 ^ is more admired nor has a wider
circle of friends than Representative and
Mrs. Clayton of Alabama. In the fall
of 1896, when Henry D. Clayton was
chosen to represent in Congress the Third
District of Alabama, the Lower House
received a new leader for the judiciary,
and the Democratic forces a powerful
champion for the support of their measures.
The new Congressman associated himself
with political rather than social Washing-
ton, and when in the spring of 1910 the
papers carried the announcement that
Mr. Clayton was soon to become a bene-
dict, few people at the Capital realized
that Washington society was soon to be
refreshed by a belle from the Southland,
and enlivened by a new and charming
personality.
The active political career of Henry D.
Clayton was begun when he became a
member of the State Legislature, and was
made Chairman of the Committee on
Judiciary. Rapidly he progressed from the
honorary office of presidential elector to be
district attorney, Member of Congress,
permanent chairman of the Democratic
National Convention at Denver, and
chairman of the Democratic caucus in
the House of Representatives, and now
he has an undisputed claim on the chair-
manship of the Judiciary Committee in
tfte Sixty-second Congress.
Mrs. Clayton, formerly Miss Bettie
Davis of Georgetown, Kentucky, is what
the South has long cherished as its greatest
natural product — the Southern woman.
Tradition has long held that Kentucky
and beautiful women seem almost synony-
mous— the belle from the Blue Grass
region has had fame in song and story.
Mrs. Clayton's father, Hon. Samuel M.
Davis, was for nearly a quarter of a cen-
tury Mayor of Georgetown, and as upon
his daughter rested many social responsi-
bilities, thus Mrs. Clayton began her
career as a natural social leader.
The honeymoon was spent in Europe,
but not content with the conventional
"sight-seeing" of London, Paris, Rome
and Berlin, the young people toured the
greater part of the continent, and made
many friends on their travels. Upon
their return to America, Mrs. Clayton
took a trip which she declares charmed
her far more than the varied foreign
tours — she went, with her husband, to
make her political debut among her newly
acquired constituency in the Third Ala-
bama District. But a few months previous
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
769
the good people of that part of the state
had presented her husband with a wedding
gift in the nature of a renomination to
Congress without opposition, and now,
in the midst of the harvest season, they
waited to welcome his bride, to open wide
their doors to her.
Hospitality set a new standard for itself,
and instead of a political canvass, such as
English women are accustomed to make
with their husbands, Mrs. Clayton found
herself the subject of an ovation nine
counties large, planned and executed in
the Southern way. Serenades, barbecues,
picnics an4 buffet suppers attended them
everywhere, and the spirit of the old
South was the order of the day. Mrs.
Clayton, like her husband, now has no
opposition in the "Third Alabama."
Versatility is hers to a remarkable
degree, and she can enter into a barbecue
with as much becoming grace as she can
preside in the drawing-room. Her poise
and ease of manner portray those innate
attributes that are always distinguishing.
Her temperamental intensity, which may
be said to characterize her as an enthu-
siast, marks a nature that knows how to
enjoy, but knows also how to sympathize,
to love and to applaud. Constraint and
reserve have no place here. Mrs. Clayton
attracts and holds by frankness, friendli-
ness and responsiveness that are sponta-
neous and unaffected. Nature has en-
dowed her with beauty of a most striking
type, and the greatest of all attractions,
naturalness; culture has added grace and
composure.
These are the qualities with which she
comes to share and to sponsor the splendid
career of a statesman whose force, logic
and strength of personality have brought
him to the front as a powerful factor in
the councils of the nation.
•"THE decision of the Senate in the
*• Lorimer case by a rather close vote
of forty-six to forty declared that William
Lorimer was not illegally elected to the
Senate of the United States by the legis-
lature of Illinois.
Seldom has the Senate Chamber been
the scene of such intense excitement as
when the result of the vote was announced.
The tumultuous applause from the gal-
lery was only hushed that the proper
stress might be laid on the formal announce-
ment of acquittal by the president of the
Senate; but confusion instantly followed,
as friends and colleagues of the Senator
from Illinois crowded around him to ex-
tend their congratulations.
All through the protracted debate,
Senator Lorimer has been calm and cool,
HON. HENRY D. CLAYTON
Representative from the Third district of Alabama
never losing his self-control. The recital
of his life story from his newsboy days,
down to his election to the Senate ^un-
folded the details of a remarkable jand
interesting career.
The vote itself is very suggestive, as
party lines were by no means closely
drawn, and prominent Republicans and
Democrats alike seemed to act as jurymen
in a cause celebre rather than as partisan
politicians. The narrow margin in favor
of Senator Lorimer indicates that evidence
of venality in the Illinois legislature will
furnish pungent text for biting arguments
770
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
when the popular election of United States
Senators again confronts the Senate at
the next session of Congress.
OPINIONS on the fortifications of the
Panama Canal seem as varied as
those on tariff revision and on reciprocity.
MRS. MARIE L. BALDWIN
Indian woman who works for Uncle Sam in the Indian
office, Washington, D. C. She assists in settling
claims brought against the Government by people
engaged in furnishing supplies to her own people. She
is highly educated and speaks French
Many important arguments both in favor
of and against the proposition were ad-
vanced at a recent meeting of the Economic
Club in New York City. Prominent
speakers came on from Washington, and
their addresses showed that much thought
had been given to the matter.
The speakers were introduced by Presi-
dent Milburn of the society, who main-
tained a strict neutrality. Count Apponyi,
the Hungarian Cabinet Minister, who has
been visiting America, spoke briefly against
fortification, saying that both fortifications
and battleships were becoming obsolete.
General Nelson A. Miles was not so
optimistic. "Every military man must
know that in case of war the Isthmian
Canal would be, if possible, the first place
to be seized by a foreign foe, and the
student of history must know that treaties
are disregarded in almost every war."
Dr. Louis Livingston Seaman, major
surgeon, United States Volunteer Engi-
neers, had a word to say regarding neu-
tralization. "Ideal in theory, neutraliza-
tion is only effective as long as all nations
can be induced to observe their treaty
obligations. This requires universal agree-
ment; but it has happened in the past,
and it will doubtless happen in the future,
STANLEY FINCH
Chief of the Crime Detecting Force of Department of
Justice, who has been rounding up the "Get Rich
Quick" firms throughout the country. The entire
detective force of the Government is being concen-
trated and will be under Mr. Finch's direction. Chief
of Secret Service Wilkie has been assigned to reor-
ganizing the Customs Inspection Service
that some nation or nations will disregard
these obligations, and as the canal will
be used by all, so it will be an object of
attack by any who thus begin a war and
seek to injure their enemy by robbing it
of the use of this waterway."
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
771
Mr. Edwin D. Mead, an associate of
William Dean Howells, Nicholas Murray
Butler, John Graham Brooks and others,
struck a quite different note when he
declared, "The thing now needed is delay.
Why this hurry about so important a
matter? The Panama Canal will not be
finished tomorrow nor the next day; and
the question of its fortification can be
determined better by some future Congress
than by the present one."
This view of the case is not in line with
the utterance of Beaver Creek Brown on
the desirability of carrying a pistol habit-
ually. "It may be," he observed judi-
Photo by Clinedinst
MAHA VAJIRAVUDH PHRA MONGKUT KLAO
New king of Siam
eially, "thet a man mout carry a gun all his
life and never hev to use it; but when
he does need it, he wants it right away, an'
dang bad."
As soon as the canal is finished, friend-
ship and treaty ties with foreign nations
must, if ever, come to a crucial test. Either
neutrality or defences must be relied on
then, and the choice must'bejnade now.
A FEW years ago when some five or
•**• six score "rubber plantations" were
being exploited in the United States, and
COUNT VON BERNSTORFP
Latest photo of the German Ambassador in
Court uniform
begun in Mexico, a very modest German
visitor curiously inspected, and experi-
mented with the hitherto useless and
evil-tasting guayule scrub, which covered
the plateaus of Torreon and othej Mexican
states. He managed to induce a company
to follow up his experiments, and a new
brand of rubber began to appear in small
quantities in the markets of the world,
and to be known to the initiated few as
"guayule rubber."
Very few of the Castilloa rubber plan-
tations have come into profitable bearing
and the processes of collecting the juice
and hardening'it into rubber is a slow and
thus far a not very profitable business,
but the cost of buying a ton of guayule
brush, and extracting the viscid rubber
772
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
is very small compared with the price
realized. It is estimated at Washington
that the total production of guayule rubber
in Mexico aggregates say 2,750,000 pounds
per month, valued at about $1,650,000,
Photo by Clinedinst
MISS MARY SOUTHERLAND
Daughter of Rear Admiral W. H. H. Southerland, She
is Miss Helen Taft's most intimate friend, and one of
the leaders in Washington society
which would soon give Mexico a guayule
rubber export of nineteen to twenty
millions of dollars, while the Castilloa
development is not over one-fifth the
output of the formerly despised guayule.
Also the profit from guayule is immensely
greater, as the cost of manufacturing is
not over forty cents a pound, for a rubber
that sells at wholesale at from sixty cents
to $1.15 per pound. Many contractors
are still collecting and hauling to the
factory this valuable shrub, at a contract
price of from $25 to $30 Mexican, or
$12.50 to $15 per ton.
E census tells the story of the great
development of the South in figures,
but figures are often most eloquently
illumined in addresses made by enthu-
siastic devotees.
Professor E. A Pound, Superintendent
of the Board of Education at Way cross,
has delivered a speech on the "Corr.e
South" slogan that has in it the real ring
of welcome. He gives facts and figures
of the immense development in the South,
and the address is interwoven with sen-
tences that read something like this:
"Come South, homeseeker, come South
to a land with a glorious past 'and to one
that is to have a more resplendent future.
"Come South, fellow- American, because
the growth of population in the South has
not kept pace with her growth in enter-
prise and opportunity and achievement.
"Come South, homeseeker," — he grows
more specific — "come down to Georgia,
the -Empire state of the South — to Georgia,
where the luscious peach exudes the smile
of Southern sunshine upon tables in far
distant lands.
"Come South, homeseeker" — here the
reader is drawn still nearer to the land of
the orator's heart — "to the wiregrass
region, where you may raise cotton, corn,
alfalfa, sugar cane, celery, tomatoes,
onions, melons or fruit; where you may
gather your one hundred bushels of corn
to the acre or raise more than a bale of
cotton.
"Come South, homeseeker, come south,
to South Georgia, the land of promise,
profit and the Pine. And in coming, if
you wish to dwell in an up-to-date city,
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
773
come on down to Way cross, the magic
city of the pines, the queen city of the wire-
grass — where mortality is lowest, where
the climate is delightful, where the people
are progressive and generous, and whose
motto is, 'Work, will and wonder.' Come
and you will remain, remain and you will
prosper, prosper and you will be happy
in understanding why it is that her present
is the expanding marvel of the day and
why her future dazzles even the visions
of prophecy."
THE terrific explosion in New York
which shook the glass at the buildings
of Wall Street and was heard for many
miles around has awakened a keen in-
SENORA DONA MARIA RIANO
Daughter of the minister from Colombia and wife
of the second secretary of the Colombia Legation
terest in the manner and method of hand-
ling explosives. Few people realize how
much explosives are used in farm work.
The farmer and excavator are fast learn-
ing how to utilize the higher form of ex-
plosives in the excavating and exploring
of heavy soils for cultivation, and have
made many interesting and necessary ob-
servations.
TV/HERE comparatively few large
** stumps are left and it would not pay
to purchase a powerful extractor, a two-
inch augur-hole bored through the heart
of the stump nearly to the roots should
be loaded with a single cartridge of rend-
Photo by Clinedinst
MISS CORNELIA ELLIS OP VIRGINIA
Grand-daughter of President Tyler who is receiving
much social attention during her visit to Washing-
ton. The necklace shown in this photo was worn
by her grandm other, the wife of President Tyler
rock, or giant powder, with a fuse leading
to the top of the stump. Dry sand poured
into the hole will sufficiently "tamp" this
charge, which should not only blow up
the stump but split it up so effectually
that it will furnish good material for the
family wood-pile. The cost of removing
the largest stump that may be found ought
not to exceed fifty cents or, at the out-
side, a dollar.
Where a wall of earth is to be removed
a cartridge set deeply from five to ten feet
back from the excavation, and loaded and
774
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
"tamped" as above, will throw down and
loosen large masses of earth, saving slow
and costly labor with pick and bar.
Where a cellar is to be excavated in heavy
clay a few holes sunk to the level of, or
even a little below the bottom of the cellar,
and properly loaded, tamped and fired,
will loosen the material at the surface,
within a circle whose diameter will be
thrice the depth of the hole.
Thus a cartridge exploded at a depth
of six feet should loosen the surface soil
CAPT. GRAHAM L. JOHNSON, U.S.A.
Aide to President Taft
within a circle of thirty-six feet circum-
ference. Where, as is often the case, the
strongest man can only loosen a handful
of clay at a stroke, the economy of this
method is beyond question. The farmer
who has tried in vain to raise fruit and
shade trees on land underlaid with hard
clays, will find a sure cure for these condi-
tions, by digging the holes deep down with
high explosives, which will also shake up
the surface around so greatly that it will
never again be compacted as before.
Surface boulders should be drilled to
some depth if possible, but do not need
large charges, which should be tamped
by a layer of sand or moist clay. If near
a house, the rock should be covered with
planks, brush, etc., to prevent the splin-
ters and pieces of rock from flying to a
distance.
All work of this kind should be done in
warm weather, if possible, as chilled ex-
plosives of which nitro-glycerine forms a
part are useless, unless thawed out, and
this process is always more or less dan-
gerous. The cartridges should be stored
under lock and key in some waterproof
box or tool-chest at a distance from any
building, or may be put in a barrel or
covered canister and buried. The cap-
sules which are used to cap the fuses must
never be kept near or -with the explosives,
or affixed to the fuses near the cartridges.
With ordinary attention and care in these
matters, there should be no danger in
using high explosives for these purposes.
•"THE vote by which the Senate delayed
^ for a season the direct selection by
the people of United States Senators was
too close to be pleasant for those who
opposed the measure. With eighty-seven
present and voting, fifty-four voted for
the proposed change and only thirty-
three against it; so that a change of four
votes from the negative to the affirmative
side would have given the required two-
thirds vote.
The Democrats opposing the measure
were chiefly from the South, and it is
believed that the acceptance of the
Sutherland amendment, retaining federal
control of elections, was responsible for
the many Southern "nays." New Eng-
land, with the exception of Senator Frye,
voted against the measure. One of the
Western Senators, commenting upon the
remark that, while Eastern members
might be influenced by the argument that
if the people could not trust their state
legislatures, those bodies should be abol-
ished, declared that this was quite im-
practical and that the direct election pro-
posed no such radical change. Most of
the Western members were heartily in
favor of the Borah resolution, and Senator
Borah promises that the fight for the bill
will begin again with renewed vigor at the
opening of the Sixty-second Congress.
AFFAIRS AT WASHINGTON
775
HON. STEPHEN M. SPARKMAN
Member of Congress from Tampa, Florida, and prospective chairman of the committee on rivers and harbors
""THE Senate's recent ratification of the
* Japanese treaty will do much to quell
the war gossip which has of late furnished
a burning theme for our novelists and
story- writers.
The new treaty has met with favor by
the governments of both nations. With
the treaty a "gentleman's agreement," in
the form of a memorandum from the
Japanese ambassador, will enforce the
Japanese passport regulations that prevent
"coolies" from coming here.
A "gentleman's agreement" often means
more than the most binding promise bear-
ing governmental seals, for the former pact
is based upon honor, and the honor of a
nation — especially that of the Island Em-
pire— is an impregnable bulwark.
Diplomats seem to be of the common
opinion that this treaty will do much
toward establishing a permanent friend-
ship between Japan and the United States,
and the peace dove is reported to have
recovered from its recent indisposition.
HI HAY— HAY— HAINT 'AD HA BO'LE HALE HIN TWO YEARS"
—See " The Guest of Honor," page 787
Copyright 1911, by Chappie Publishing Company, Ltd.
SYNOPSIS — John Weatherbee, a young author and poet, comes to New York with his
*3 four-year-old adopted son, Jack, and takes the best rooms at Warlle's boarding house
in East Twenty-ninth Street. But as finances dwindle he keeps moving up until the " top floor
back" is reached. Amid the persistent dunning and threatening of Wartle, the landlord, and
Mrs. Murray, the housekeeper, Weatherbee is kept in spirits by the encouragement offered
by Warner, an old blind newspaper man whom Weatherbee has assisted in better days.
Warner assures the young man that his writings will some day make him famous, and
asks regarding a poem of Weatherbee1 s which has won a prize at the "Ten Club1' in New York
City. Weatherbee becomes rapturous in describing the young lady who recited his verse,
but quickly reproaches himself as he is reminded of his extreme poverty. It is decided,
if Wartle demands his room at the end of the week, that the three, little Jack, Weatherbee
and Warner, shall go "camping," but Weatherbee hopes that an appointment with a book
publisher, to take place that afternoon, will be productive of material results.
CHAPTER V
O YOU wish to stop .
here?" inquired the
chauffeur in a doubt-
ful tone, as he brought
the large touring car
to a stop and looked
with much disgust at
the .dirty windows
which Wartle had not
washed for months.
"Have you driven to the address • I
gave you?" Miss Kent asked gently.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then we would like to get out, please."
And the chauffeur opened the door of the
car quickly.
Wartle's face became a study of wonder-
ment as he peeked from the basement
window and saw the two beautifully
gowned young ladies assisted from the
automobile by a smartly dressed young
man, whose hands were coveted with
bright chamois gloves, a necktie of the
same color and a walking stick almost
as large as himself.
"What can they want 'ere?" Wartle
muttered to himself, as he ran up the
stairs and opened the door.
"Does Mr. Weatherbee live here?"
And the music of Miss Kent's voice
startled Wartle, bowing profusely as he
went down the hall exclaiming: "Yes
ma'am, right this way, Hi '11 show you,"
until his heels struck the lower step of
the stairs and he sat down with a thud.
Neither Thisby nor Helen Kent made
any effort to subdue their laughter, as
they watched Rosamond assist Wartle
to his feet, as he mumbled: "Hexcuse
me, Hi thank you. Right this way," and
started up the stairs.
Rosamond found it difficult to conceal
her smile as she shook her finger at Thisby
and Helen, who were giggling at Wartle as
he puffed and grunted at each step.
"An automobile doesn't make so much
noise, after all," Thisby remarked.
"Hi think they're hawful things," re-
torted Wartle. "Hi'm hafraid hof my
life hof 'em!"
(777)
778
THE GUEST OF HONOR
"Have you ever ridden in one?" in-
quired Helen, whose voice showed that
she was not accustomed to climbing
stairs.
"No, ma'am. Hi likes 'orses, but Hi
'ates hautomobiles."
Helen giggled as she replied: "But
'orses run away."
"Ho, Hi don't like them kind. Hi
likes the kind they 'ave hon the cabs."
"Do you like donkeys? " inquired Thisby.
"Hi likes to look hat them, but they're
h awful kickers."
And Rosamond shook her hands at
Thisby, who was trying to smother his
laughter with his chamois gloves.
"Right hat the top hof these stairs his
Mr. Weatherbee's room," and he bowed
low as Miss Rosamond thanked him po-
litely and proceeded up the stairs.
"In all my life I have never been so
high up."
"You may never be again, Thisby,"
returned Rosamond gently.
Weatherbee had been cheerfully doing
the work about the room that Mrs.
Murray so bluntly refused to do. He had
swept and put everything in order as best
he could and was sitting at the wooden
table he used for a writing desk, with his
head resting on his hand and wondering
if Warner was right in his opinion about
his books. He repeated to himself the
words Warner had so often spoken:
"Your books will be published some day
and you'll be a rich man." He tried to
make himself believe that Warner was
right, but he was afraid his opinion was
controlled by friendship and as he sat
there wondering and dreaming, the sound
of Miss Kent's voice fell upon his ears,
as gently and softly as some wonderful
strain of music he had once dreamed of,
and he thought he was still dreaming, and
he was not surprised, for he had thought
of her constantly since the first time he
saw her and heard her voice and he closed
his eyes and he smiled and raised his
head slowly and imagined he saw her
standing on the stage reciting his poem:
"As the Sun Said Good-bye to the Moon."
As she reached the top step she rested
her hand on the quaint little banister and
took in the room with a glance; the atmos-
phere of artistic poverty it possessed
fascinated her. She fell in love with the
room as quickly as she did with the author
after she had read his poem. She felt
as if the room belonged to the poem and
the poem belonged to the room and both
were a part of the author.
"Does Mr. Weatherbee live here?"
she asked softly.
Weatherbee raised his head quickly,
paused a second and then jumped to his
feet, turned, and as he beheld Miss Kent,
gasped, "I beg your pardon!"
"Does Mr. Weatherbee live here?" she
repeated.
"No," he mumbled in a quivering
voice, as he pulled his cuff down below the
^edge of his coat sleeve. "This is Mr.
Weatherbee's studio, but — but he doesn't
live here," and he gave the other cuff a
sudden jerk and pushed the ends of his
streaming tie under his waistcoat.
"Oh, I see," and Miss Kent took a few
steps toward the center of the room.
"Is he in?"
"No — he — he hasn't been here this
morning, yet."
"Do you represent Mr. Weatherbee in
any way?"
"Yes, oh, yes," he replied, "I— I am
Mr. Weatherbee's secretary," and he
"bowed politely.
"I am Miss Kent of the 'Young
Women's Ten Club' and have called to
thank Mr. Weatherbee for the beautiful
poem he sent us and tell him what a great
success it was."
"That is indeed kind of you — I" — and
he corrected himself quickly, "Mr. Wea-
therbee heard you recite it."
"Oh, was he there?" M'ss Kent in-
quired eagerly, as she advanced toward
Weatherbee quickly.
"Yes, he and I went together," Weather-
bee replied with much pride. "He was
kind enough to take me; in fact he takes
me most every place he goes."
"And you say he really liked it?"
Helen exclaimed as if she thought such a
thing were really impossible.
Weatherbee bowed his head slightly,
as he placed his hand behind his back.
"I never knew Mr. Weatherbee to
enthuse over anything as he has over your
delivery of his poem. He talks to me
every morning about it."
THE GUEST OF HONOR
779
And Miss Kent clasped her hands to-
gether as she looked from Helen to Thisby
and exclaimed with much enthusiasm,
"How charming!"
Weatherbee smiled and bowed grace-
fully. "Yes, indeed, he doesn't talk of
anything else. He breaks out every once
in a while in a most enthusiastic manner
and says: 'Jack,' Tom — Tom — his name
is Jack and my name is Tom — he always
calls me Tom, yes, he'll say, 'Tom, what
a beautiful voice Miss Kent has,' and I
agree with him; we always agree. ' '
"You should 1-ave heard some of the
compliments the ladies paid him as an
author," interrupted Helen.
"I'm sure it would please him," and
Weatherbee bowed again.
"Especially Miss Kent," she continued
as she looked at Rosamond and laughed.
"That's jolly well true/' put in Thisby,
who was bored with the conversation.
"I don't think it possible for Miss
Kent to admire the poem as much as the
author admired the way she delivered it."
"We admire the author who can write
such beautiful things."
And Helen laughed as she threw a
quizzical glance at Rosamond and ex-
claimed, "We!"
Thisby fanned himself with his hat as
he gazed from one to the other. "A
mutual admiration society. As for my-
self, I don't care a rap for poetry!"
"Why, Thisby!" and there was a note
of reproach in Rosamond's voice.
"I jolly well don't."
"Well, I wouldn't boast about it," she
replied as she turned to Weatherbee.
"When do you expect Mr. Weatherbee
in?"
"I really couldn't say. He might come
in any minute and he might not be here
today at all."
"This is just our luck! We are very
anxious to see him. The Club is having
a luncheon at my home tomorrow. We
wrote and asked Mr. Weatherbee to come,
but he declined, so we thought we would
just drop in and see if we couldn't per-
suade him to come. We always present
the prize to the authors at the luncheon
which we give in their honor."
"Is he out of town?" Thisby asked in
a snappy tone.
"No — no," returned Weatherbee quietly.
" I think he is in the city; in fact I am sure
he is. He told me last evening he was
going to remain in town all day today."
Helen suggested that he might be home
and Weatherbee nodded his head and re-
plied in a tone of forced surprise: "Per-
haps he is!"
Thisby thought he had solved the prob-
lem and he raised his voice with admira-
tion at his own thought. "Why not
'phone him?"
Weatherbee leaned forward quickly, as
if the words had escaped his ears, "I beg
your pardon?"
"I say, why 'not 'phone him?" he
yelled, and Weatherbee smiled as he
glanced about the room and raised his
voice as if he were addressing a person
as deaf as Thisby might have thought he
was addressing:
"Oh, yes, but we have no 'phone. He
did have one, but he had it taken out be-
cause it proved an annoyance when he
was writing. I'm sorry we haven't a
'phone, very sorry indeed."
"That is simple enough," remarked
Helen, as she turned to Thisby. "You
go out to a drug store and call him up."
"Yes, if you give me his number, I'll
go out to a drug store and call him up."
Weatherbee's hesitation made it very
apparent that he was in an embarrassing
position.
"I'm extremely sorry — but — I am not
at liberty to give his 'phone number."
"Is he such a crank?" snapped Thisby.
"No, really, Mr. Weatherbee is the most
charming man I have ever met."
And Rosamond interrupted as if she
were defending an old friend: "I sup-
pose he has to protect himself from news-
paper reporters and publishers?"
Weatherbee smiled grimly, as he whis-
pered: "Especially the publishers," and
he forced a faint cough as he continued:
"All the publishers chase after him.
It's really laughable sometimes to see them
fight among themselves to get his stories
and books and things." He watched
Rosamond as she glanced about the
room.
"Are any of his books here?"
"No, there isn't a single book; in fact
there is hardly anything left here at all
780
THE GUEST OF HONOR
now. He usually sends his valuable
things home, before he goes away for the
summer."
"Oh, is he preparing to go away?"
"I think he is."
"When does he leave?"
Weatherbee smiled, as he replied with
a great deal of assurance: "From what
I heard him and the proprietor of the house
say this morning, I think he'll leave
about Saturday."
"It is rather early."
"It is a little earlier than he expected
to go, I think."
"Where does he go?" asked Thisby
bluntly.
"I think he'll go camping this summer."
Helen glanced at Rosamond and then
turned and winked at Thisby.
"Is Mr. Weatherbee a young man?"
"Mr. Weatherbee and I are about the
same age."
"Now, Rosamond, you ask if he is tall,"
and she obeyed with a fascinating smile that
became still more fascinating as Weatherbee
informed her that he was about six feet.
"Light or dark," she asked eagerly.
"Rather light — quite light," and Helen
laughed heartily as she seated herself in
the rocker.
"That settles it. Now we will wait
until he comes," and she laughed still
harder as Rosamond replied : ' ' Oh , hush , ' '
and turned to Weatherbee quickly. "Does
he do all his writing here? "
"Most of it."
"What a quaint spot! What a queer
old library," and Weatherbee followed her
to the old bookcase and spoke in a voice
that trembled with admiration: "He is
very fond of antiques."
"JMay I open it?" and she stepped back
with surprise as he threw the doors open.
"Oh, he has taken all his books away!"
"All but this set of Dickens, and he
left those until the last. I think he'll
have me take these away this afternoon or
in the morning."
"Well, I am not going to wait any
longer. I'll have the chauffeur drive me
home and come back and get you and
Thisby."
"No — no, I'm going with you. If
I write Mr. Weatherbee a note, will you
see that he gets it today?"
And as he arranged the pen, ink and
paper on the table for her, he assured her
in promising tones that he would deliver
the note to Mr. Weatherbee without fail.
"That is a very good portrait of you,"
Helen remarked as she gazed at a small
painting of Weatherbee hanging on the
wall.
"Do you like it?"
"Very much."
"One of Mr. Weatherbee's friends
painted that and gave it to me."
Thisby didn't hesitate to say that the
nose was too long, but Helen disagreed
with him and inquired if there was a pic-
ture of Mr. Weatherbee in the room and
Weatherbee tried to save another lie by
looking in the opposite direction as he
remarked, quietly : "I don't see any now. ' '
" Do you write at all? "
"A little, I've been studying for some
time with Mr. Weatherbee."
"Are you going to be a poet?"
"I would like to."
Thisby looked at Helen with a little
reproach, as he remarked in a firm tone
that he would jolly well like to write a
poem that would drive all the ladies daft,
and he laughed good-naturedly when she
replied quickly that she hadn't any doubt
that a poem written by him would drive
anyone who read it daft.
"What on earth are you doing, Rosa-
mond, writing a book?"
And as Rosamond reached for an enve-
lope, her elbow hit the picture of Jack's
mother and it fell to the floor.
"You'll be sure and give Mr. Weather-
bee this note today, won't you?"
"Positively," he replied as he took the
note and turned to conceal his smile.
"I'm ready," exclaimed Rosamond as
she turned to Helen, who was holding the
picture in both hands. Her face was pale
and she staggered forward and gave the
picture to Rosamond, who looked at it
quickly and gasped: " jMarguerette ! " She
tried to control her frightened condition,
as she turned to see if either of the men
were watching them.
Thisby was resting on his cane gazing
at Weatherbee's painting and Weatherbee
stood studying the strong, characteristic
handwriting on the envelope addressed
to himself.
il ROSAMOND LOOKED AT IT QUICKLY AND GASPED, • MARGUERETTE '"
See "The Guest of Honor," page 780
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THE GUEST OF HONOR
781
" Par don me, but may I ask who this
is?" Rosamond asksd in a voice that did
not conceal her excitement.
Weatherbee gazed at the picture a
second and replied tenderly: "A friend
of Mr. Weatherbee's."
Rosamond gazed at the picture again,
as she whispered: "I wish he were here."
She wanted to make further inquiries, but
decided she would wait and ask Weather-
bee himself. She placed the picture on
the table and turned toward the stairs to
hide the tears in her eyes.
"Don't forget the letter, will you?
Come, Helen. Thank you very much. I
hope we haven't taken too much of your
time."
"No, indeed," he replied, as he followed
her to the banister and tried hard to
catch a glimpse of her face, for he thought
it would be the last, but she kept her head
turned.
"It has been a great pleasure to me.
Can you find your way out?"
"Yes, thank you," but he stole after
them and opened the front door just wide
enough to peek out and see her drive
away.
CHAPTER VI
As Miss Kent's automobile rolled up
Twenty-ninth Street, Weatherbee stood
on the steps and watched the picture fade
into memory. He unfolded her letter that
he had nervously squeezed into a small
ball and sat on the stone steps and read
it through many times.
The stone steps, which the scorching sun
had made hot enough to fry an egg on,
seemed like cushioned chairs to him. He
forgot he was sitting — he forgot every-
thing but the dream he had dreamed so
many times — and as he finished the letter
again, he raised his head and wondered
if he were still dreaming.
He thought a few seconds and started
to read the letter again and would have
read it many, many times had not the tap-
ping of Warner's cane on the stone walk
interrupted him. His good judgment told
him he was not quite in his right mind and
he tried hard to pull himself together and
greet Warner in a natural tone of voice.
"Hello, Warner, where is Jack?" he
remarked carelessly.
"Mrs. Turner wouldn't let me bring him
away. She insisted on him staying until
three o'clock anyway, and I left the little
rascal there, eating his head off."
"Warner, who do you suppose called
on me while you were away?"
"Who?"
"You couldn't guess in twenty years."
"The publisher!" exclaimed Warner,
and his voice trembled with excitement.
"Guess again."
"Who?"
"No, you're still wrong."
"Who was it, John? " And as Weather-
be informed him that it was Miss Kent,
he stood as if he expected Warner to fall,
but he only grunted, "Who the devil is
Miss Kent?"
"Why the beautiful girl I told you of
who recited my poem."
"Ah-ha!" responded Warner in a low
tone. "In love with the author."
"No, no, just called to — "
"Oh, rot," interrupted Warner, as he
struck the walk with his cane. "What
did she want? "
"Insisted that I attend this luncheon
given by the 'Ten Club' at her home
tomorrow — actually insists."
"Bully for you, John, bully for you."
"Sit down, Warner, and I'll tell you all
about it."
They were hardly seated before Warner
jumped up and inquired if that was the
hottest spot in New York they could find
to sit on, and on Weatherbee's suggestion,
they started arm in arm for Madison
Square, and Warner shook with laughter
as Weatherbee told him how he had suc-
ceeded in passing himself off as his own
secretary.
"John, that is a good joke on her, and
I'll bet the society will enjoy it when you
tell them."
"When I tell them?" and he gave
Warner a searching glance, for he really
thought he was jesting.
"You don't think I am going, do you,
Warner?"
"Certainly you're going," he growled.
"Warner, would you really have me go
to that girl's house looking as I do?"
"By all means. Do you suppose she
thinks your poems were written by a fine
suit of clothes? No, for a girl who would
782
THE GUEST OF HONOR
look for a swell suit of clothes wouldn't
have a mind broad enough to appreciate
such a poem."
Weatherbee listened attentively to
Warner's remark and sauntered along in
silence, buried in deep thought.
"Our bench is vacant, Warner," he said
in a low tone, as he led him to the seat
they always sat on unless it was occupied
by others who sought Madison Square
Park for outdoor recreation.
Both sat for several minutes in silence
and Warner knew there was something
out of the ordinary on Weatherbee 's mind.
He was sure it was one of two things.
Either room rent or Miss Kent, but owing
to the fact that Weatherbee had never
given any thought to ladies, he was some-
what puzzled as to which it was, but he
was silently betting on Miss Kent.
"There's a little breeze here today,
Warner."
Warner smiled faintly, for he knew from
Weatherbee's tone that he was not think-
ing of the breeze.
"There's always a breeze here, John,
you get it from the east, west, north
and south, with a double cross. This
should be called the X of New York."
"That would be a good name for it,"
Weatherbee replied slowly, as he noticed
the suggestion of the X made by Broadway
crossing Fifth Avenue.
"You've helped me thresh out a good
many ideas for my novels in this Square,
Warner."
"I hope I'll be able to help you thresh
out a good many more," Warner replied
kindly.
"What are you worried about, John?"
"I'm not worried about anything."
"You're doing an awful lot of thinking."
" I guess it's up to me to do a little think-
ing, isn't it, Warner? "
"Well, John," and Warner dragged his
words out in a soft, low tone as he put
his hand on Weatherbee's knee. "Think,
but don't worry — worry is what keeps the
undertakers busy. You have done all
the thinking and all the figuring amd all
the guessing there is to be done about
your books, and I have guessed and thought
and figured with you. I have advised
you because I feel that I am capable of
advising and I know you are going to win
out. I feel it. I'm sure of it. It's only
a matter of time. I can't see, but I can
hear and I'll bet both of my ears that I am
right. I won't bet on the exact date of
the publication of your novels, but some-
one will recognize their worth and publish
them, but you can't hasten the publica-
tion by worrying, so why not give time a
chance for a few days and see what it will
do? Time has done a great deal in the
last six hours," and he patted Weatherbee's
knee affectionately, as he leaned closer
to him and whispered: "It has opened
up an avenue in your character that I
had never heard of before!"
"What do you mean?" Weatherbee
asked gently.
Warner paused a few seconds, then
leaned toward Weatherbee and whispered :
"You're in love!"
A long drawn out '"What" forced
Warner to repeat the words, and he reached
for Weatherbee's hand and squeezed it
tightly as he continued in a voice that
trembled with emotion. "It's beautiful,
John — it's beautiful. I never loved but
once, and I have never been unhappy
since."
"Warner, I wouldn't allow myself to
think of love."
"We don't have to think of it, John, it
thinks for us. You say in one of your
stories that 'Love knows no law, it favors
no place, it has no home, until it dreams,
and wanders, until it meets a soul that it
clings to and either sings or sobs its life
away.'
"John, I never heard you give a love-
chirp until today and I would have given
the world to have seen your eyes when you
were telling me about this lady. There
was a note in your voice that I never heard
before."
Weatherbee knitted the fingers of both
hands together and gazed steadily at the
walk, and Warner only became more
amused as Weatherbee earnestly insisted
that he had not even thought of love.
"Warner," he went on in a low, sincere
tone, "if I started to fall in love in my
present position, I'd lose all respect for
myself. When Miss Kent walked out
on the stage to deliver my poem I was
somewhat frightened because she was the
living image of the girl I had described
THE GUEST OF HONOR
783
in the poem, the girl I dreamed of when
I was writing the poem stood before me.
I admired the natural, sincere way she
read it and I would have liked to have
gone to her and thanked her."
"But instead of that," interrupted
Warner, "she came to you."
He drew the end of his cane back and
forth on the cement walk a few times and
then continued in a kind but somewhat
amused tone.
"John, did she state in her invitation
how she wished you to dress?"
"Certainly not," Weatherbee replied
quickly.
"Then how do you know she wouldn't
like to have you come dressed as you are? "
"I don't know."
"Then why don't you go and find out?"
"Because she might feel offended."
"At your appearance?"
"Yes."
"But you are not positive."
"Not absolutely!"
"John, in my eyes you are doing this
girl an injustice."
"How?"
"Perhaps I can explain it more, fully
by reversing the situation," and Weather-
bee placed his hat on the bench and
listened attentively.
"Imagine you have read a poem written
by a lady whom you have never met —
your club or your society invite her to a
luncheon. She accepts the invitation —
she appears in a dress that isn't in style;
it is a little worn — we'll say it is quite
shabby. You or any club or society that
you would be a member of wouldn't be
offended, would you?"
"Certainly not."
"You would be a lot of cads if you took
offence at the girl's dress, wouldn't you?"
"Certainly."
"Well, then, if this girl, or her club or
society invites you to their luncheon and
takes offence at your clothes, they're
what we would call snobs, aren't they?"
"I think in a general conversation they
might be referred to as such," Weatherbee
remarked in an unsatisfied tone as he
reached for his hat, placed it on his head
and pulled it well down over his eyes.
"But it is hardly fair," Warner con-
tinued slowly and deliberately, "to accuse
them of being snobs without giving them a
chance to prove it, is it?"
Weatherbee gave Warner a smiling
glance from the corner of his eyes and
acknowledged he was right.
"So far so good," Warner went on.
"Did Miss Kent impress you as being a
girl who would take offence at a man she
admired (we'll say from a literary stand-
point) that circumstances had dressed in
an old suit of clothes?"
"No, she did not," was Weatherbee 's
reply.
Warner sat in silence waiting for Weath-
erbee to continue, but he was gazing at a
pale blue cloud that was journeying on
its way across the sun, and there were
two large brown eyes looking down
through the pale blue cloud which caused
the sun and the cloud to fade into nothing
but a mere background.
After Warner had waited some time,
he came to the conclusion that Weatherbee
was in one of his listening moods and it
was up to him to do the talking.
"John, there is an acquaintance, doubt-
less a friendship, and perhaps something
deeper and sweeter, knocking at your
door — and because you haven't a nice
suit of clothes, you refuse to open the
door and let it in. The same knock may
never come again, John."
The pale blue cloud had crossed over
the sun and Weatherbee focussed his
vacant stare on the earth's green grassy
carpet and the two large brown eyes had
also shifted and were gazing up at him
through the soft green threads.
"In reversing this situation, John, do
I make it clear to you that you are
wrong? "
"You haven't yet, Warner," and he
smiled faintly at the gentle, fatherly way
in which Warner was chastising him.
"If the situation were reversed, Warner,
do you think Miss Kent would accept
the invitation?"
"I'm sure she would."
"Why are you sure?"
"From what she has already done.
You declined their invitation, then she
called on you and urged you to accept.
Is there anything else she can do? Do
you think a girl with a poetic mind who
is courageous enough to go to a man and
784
THE GUEST ,OF HONOR
tell him that she admires his work, is
going to take offence or even notice a
shabby suit of clothes?"
"I'm sorry I didn't have the pluck to
tell her who I was," Weatherbee grunted in
a disgusted tone as he removed his hat
that he had unconsciously been pulling
at until it almost covered his eyebrows.
"You go around and get Jack and I'll
go home and start the dinner."
"It isn't dinner time, is it, John?"
"It will be by the time you get there,"
he said as he peeped up at the sun, which
was crawling down over the roof of the
Fifth Avenue Hotel and seemed to be
tucking itself away in the Jersey foliage.
As Jack and Warner entered the little
garret room, they found dinner waiting
and after Jack had surveyed the table
carefully, he placed both hands on his
little round stomach and exclaimed with
a great deal of discomfort that he couldn't
eat any dinner because he was too full
of cocoanut cake and lemonade.
"I had three glasses of lemonade and
four pieces of cocoanut cake," he groaned
as he seated himself in the little rocker.
"Did you only eat four pieces?" Weath-
erbee inquired with a forced sincerity
that made Jack think he had committed
a great wrong and he jumped to his feet
and replied in a most apologetic way that
he just couldn't eat any more.
"But I brought all I couldn't eat home
for you and Mr. Warner."
"And didn't you bring home any lem-
onade?"
"No, I drank it all," he said in an in-
jured tone as he took his father's hand in
both of his.
"We don't like lemonade anyway, do
we, Warner?" and he gave one of the
child's curls an affectionate pull.
"You cut the cake for Mr. Warner and
me."
Jack served the cocoanut cake, and
nothing in the Weatherbee household
tasted so good that night.
As Warner bade Weatherbee good-
night at the head of the stairs, he held
his hand firmly and whispered: "John/
I'll bet I'm right about that girl, a new
suit of clothes might grate on her."
As Jack lay in the old couch bed and
watched his father climb in, he reminded
him that he had forgotten to blow out the
candle.
"You are forgetting everything to-
night, Dad — you haven't pulled down
the window curtain."
CHAPTER VII
While Weatherbee and Warner were
sitting in the Square, figuring out their
financial situation, Wartle was trying to
plan the easiest and less painful way to
remove his little round face from between
the two side-whiskers that had been hang-
ing on his cheeks for so many years. He
knew it was going to be a painful oper-
ation for he was not very handy with his
razor and he was quite nervous at the
thought of shaving himself anyway and
his hand was very unsteady — but to pay
fifteen cents to a barber was entirely out
of the question; that would be a form of
extravagance for which he would never
forgive himself, so he placed a small
mirror on the window, sat before it and
twirled the beloved whiskers around his
fingers for many minutes.
"Hit's hall foolishness," he mumbled
to himself as he ran his fingers through
them and pushed them back until they
almost covered his ears. But Mrs. Mur-
ray's word was law. She had ordered
them off and off they had to come, and off
they came in sections.
He attacked them first with a pair of
dull scissors, and then with a razor that
hadn't been near a hair for so long that it
laughed when it saw one.
After he had succeeded, in stopping the
many nicks and cuts in his face from bleed-
ing, he covered each cut and small scratch
with a liberal amount of white sticking
plaster and after a long disgusted look
at himself in the glass, shook his head
and gasped: "Hi looks like 'ell."
His feeble, frightened knock on Mrs.
Murray's door wasn't heard until he had
repeated it several times.
"Merciful Hivins," she exclaimed as
she threw up both hands and stepped
back from the door. "Have ye bin into
a dog foight?"
Wartle removed the old-fashioned moth-
eaten silk hat that had sheltered the
missing whiskers for so many years and
placed it on the table.
THE GUEST OF HONOR
785
" Ere Hi ham just has you hordered me."
" Faith an' Oi didn't oder ye with yer face
all covered with white labels, did Oi?"
"Hit's stickin' plaster," he returned
meekly.
"Ye look es if ye had been run over
by somethin' — did ye try to commit
suwecoid?"
"No, Hi was just hexcited, that's hall.
Don't you want to go to the hopera with
me?"
"Sure, Oi'll go anny place with ye — no
wan'll see me, iverybody'll be lookin' at
ye."
"Hi looks hawful, don't Hi?"
"Ye do, ye look as if ye had been
through the battle of Bull Run. Go
ter the glass there and fix yerself — some
of yer labels are comin' off."
"Hi guess the sticking plaster his no
good; hit's some ha peddler give me for
some breakfast one morning," and he
tried hard to make the curling corners
stick to his face, but found it impossible.
"Shtop pushin' on yer face, ye'll
have it all pushed out of shape. Faith
and ye look as if ye had yer face done
up in curlin' papers. Have ye the tick-
ets?"
"Yes, Hi got them hm the front row."
"Oi'm glad of that, fer I loiks to watch
the drummer. Come on or we'll be late."
"'Ave you hever seen the hopera of
'Why Women Sin'?" inquired Wartle as
he gazed at the program.
"No, but I know it's good, fer they al-
ways have foine operas here at the Third
Avenue Theatre. The usher'll be after
ye if ye don't take yer lid off."
Wartle removed the silk hat that had
furnished amusement for those near
enough to see the moth-eaten spots, and-
placed it under the seat.
"Now don't talk to me," Mrs. Murray
ordered as the curtain arose.
"She's lame, hisn'tshe?" he whispered
after the heroine had been on the stage
a few seconds.
"Shut up," Mrs. Murray replied in a
voice that was heard by everyone in the
theatre.
"She's supposed to be lame — didn't ye
hear her say that she was pushed out of
the villain's airship?"
"But she's dressed in ha h^vening dress."
"She didn't 'ave this dress on when he
pushed 'er out. Shut up now."
"Hi can't hunderstand hit," Wartle
grunted after the curtain had fallen on the
first act.
"It's as plain as the stickin' plaster on
yer face. The limpy woman is the
villain's wife and he is tryin' to kill her
off so he can marry his young toipwriter —
that's what he pushed her out of the air-
ship fer.
"Stop pickin' yer face — it's bleedin',"
and she pulled Wartle 's hand away from
his chin and warned him to keep quiet
as the curtain arose on the second act.
"Hif 'e poisons 'is wife," Wartle whis-
pered, "'e can't marry 'is typewriter
'cause 'e'll be 'anged."
"Don't ye see that he's goin' to poison
her and blame it on the hero?"
"But 'e didn't put hanything in the
glass."
"But he made believe put somethin' in
it — there — there — she's goin' to drink it.
No — she says she isn't thirsty — thank
God! thank God!" and Mrs. Murray
heaved a sigh of relief and sat back in
her seat as the curtain fell.
"The Divil will kill yer yit.
' ' Hain't she got the foine 'ead of 'air? It's
just exactly the color hof gold. She's
hawfully fat, though, hisn't she?"
"Oi think she's beautiful," Mrs. Murray
exclaimed as she clasped her hands to-
gether in admiration.
"She has two lovely gold teeth right in
the front of her mouth, and diamonds in
her ears and on every finger."
"She's got some hon 'er thumbs too,
hand haround 'er neck."
"Yis, and diamond buckles on her
slippers."
*"She 'as hawfully big feet."
"Well, she's a strappin' big woman — ;
I'll bet she weighs over two hundred
pounds. Oi wish Oi had some of the fat
that she don't need."
"Hi wouldn't 'ave you has fat has 'er
fer hanything hin the world. Hi don't
see 'ow 'er 'usband hever pushed 'er hout
of the hairship — she his two times has
big has 'e his, hand when 'e went to choke
'er 'e had to stand hon 'is tip toes to reach
'er neck. 'E doesn't look ha bit well, 'is
voice his so weak. When she said to 'im
786
THE GUEST OF HONOR
'Ho, for God's sake pity me, Dalmore,'
Hi couldn't 'ear what 'e said hat hall."
"Sure, an' he is supposed to be nothin'
but a wee shrimp — keep quiet now, here
she is."
"She his much holder than 'e his, hain't
she?"
"He is her second husband — ain't ye
listenin' to what they're sayin'?"
"Hit's mean hof 'er to want 'im to dis-
charge the typewriter, hisn't it?"
"No, she knows he is stuck on her."
"But she hain't stuck on 'im; she's
hin love with the Doctor — Dick Darow."
"Shut up, he's goin' to give her the
poisoned box of bonbons; see! see! she's
takin' them, the fool, and she's thankin'
him for 'em. The brute, he's goin' away
and 1'ave her there to ate 'em — she's un-
doin' the box — hush, here's the toipwriter
— the little fool is asking her fer some and
she's atin' 'em. Look! look at her eyes!
See! see! there she goes, she's fallin' on
the Buffalo robe. Bless her heart, the big
fat one is telephonm' fer the doctor."
"How many more hacts hare there?"
"One— it's dridful excitin', ain't it? I
thought I'd scream roight out when the
toipwriter et the poisoned bonbon."
"She didn't heat hit, there wasn't hany-
thing hin the box."
"Ye dough-head, this is only a opera.
She made believe ate it, didn't she? Wake
up!"
"H'im so sleepy Hi can't keep my
heyes hopen."
"Faith and Oi'll not sleep fer a week
after watchin' this."
"The Doctor his hawfully young to be
ha doctor, hisn't 'e? "
"Sure and the hero has to be young —
Oi think he's foine, he has such nice long,
curly hair."
"Hi likes 'im better than Hi do the
typewriter— she talks through 'er nose so."
"L'ave that stickin' plaster alone —
sure yer face'll niver git well if ye kape
pickin' at it."
"'Ow many more hacts did you say
there was?"
"One, they're gittin' ready fer it now —
the loights are goin' out. I'll bet if Oi
had that young brat by the neck, he
wouldn't whistle up in that gallery ag'in
fer awhoile.
"There's the poor little toipwriter in
bed — moy, but she's as pale as a sheet —
and see the young doctor's over there in
the corner examinin' the bon-bons wid a
spy-glass — and God love, the big fat blond
is bringin' in the little sick toipwriter
clam soup."
"What his that glass rod the Doctor
his puttin' hin the typewriter's mouth?"
"It's a thermomitor that tells if her
fever is gittin' hot or cold. He sez she
has one chance out of a million. He's
pale, too, the poor divil.
"Here's the pup that poisoned the bon-
bons."
"His false mustache his comin' hoff,
hisn't hit?"
"I hope it does. Bully fer the fat one
— she told him to go, and niver look her
in the face ag'in."
"Yes, but 'e says 'e won't go."
"Wait a minute, there's goin' to be a
scrap — the doctor is goin' to fire him out —
there they go — good! good! hurray! fer
the Doctor. Do ye hear that noise?
That's the villain fallin' down the stairs."
"Hit sounds like broken glass, doesn't
hit?"
"Sure, it's somethin' they use to make a
noise loike a man fallin' down stairs —
"The Doctor says the toipwriter is
goin' to be her own swate self in a few days
— see, he's kissin' her."
"His hit hall hover?"
" Yis and Oi'd loike to come ag'in tomor-
ry noight."
"Hi'll take you 'ome hin ha street car
hif you're too tired to walk," Wartle
chirruped as if he thought the generosity
of his offer would surprise Mrs. Murray.
"Ye'll take me home in nothin' 'till
after I go to Sweeny's 'All Night Lunch'
and have somethin' to ate."
Wartle tagged along in silence until
he recovered from the shock and then
inquired meekly where Sweeny's was.
"Oi'll show ye." Mrs. Murray replied
in a firm tone. "It's a foine place — some
people say that it's almost as good as any
of Childs' places."
"Hi've never been hin one hof Childs'
places, har they hexpensive?"
"Not very, Sweeny's a foine man — I
know him well — I used to wash fer 'em
before the Chinaman moved next door "
THE GUEST OF HONOR
787
"What do you think you'll heat?"
"I don't know 'till I see the bill-o-fare."
"Hi'd like a bottle hof good hold Hing-
lish hale, but hit's so hexpensive."
After Mrs. Murray had listened to the
waiter read over everything there was on
the menu several times, she decided she
would try an oyster stew. "An ye can
fetch me a shupper of dark beer. —
"What are ye goin' to ate?"
"Hi don't want hany thing — Hi never
heat hin the middle hof the night."
"Ye want a bottle of ale, don't ye?"
"No, Hi don't think Hi'll drink hit,
hit might hupset me."
" Drink it, sure ye can't be any worse than
ye are now. Bring a bottle of Dogs Head
— it's good for what ales him."
After Wartle drank his bottle of ale,
things on the menu began to look cheaper
and Mrs. Murray smiled as he ordered
the second bottle — and was somewhat
astonished when he ordered the third
and she cancelled the order when he
asked for the fourth.
"Ye'll drink no more, sure ye're blink-
eyed now. Give 'im his hat, waiter."
"Hi hay— hay— hain't 'ad ha bo'le
hale hin two years."
"Faith, an ye have enough now to do
fer two years more — come out of there,
that's the kitchen."
"Do you want a cab, Mrs. Murray?"
the waiter asked.
"No, sure he needs the walk — he'll
be all roight whin he gits outsoide."
"This 'as been ha lovely hevening,"
he mumbled as they stopped at Mrs.
Murray's steps — and as he bent over to
kiss her hand, the moth-eaten hat fell
off and rolled out onto the pavement, and
to make sure that it would not fall off
again until he reached home, Mrs. Murray
pulled it well down on the back of his
head until it rested on both ears.
"Ye're all roight now, ain't ye? Ye
know where ye are, don't ye? "
"Sure, Hi'm hin 'Eaven." He chuckled
as he waddled up the street, waving his
chubby hand back over his shoulder.
. CHAPTER VIII
The silk shades in the large drawing-
room windows of the Kent mansion,
which looked out on Fifth Avenue, were
drawn, and the elegantly furnished room
was delicately lighted with a large chan-
delier whose small electric bulbs were
hidden under the soft sun-colored globes,
which matched the golden colored damask
which covered the walls and gave the large
room a glow of peaceful summer sunset.
The big sliding doors* of the adjoining
dining room that looked out into the
conservatory were open, and the servants
were busy spreading the table for the
many guests expected, and as a surprise
Rosamond had ordered a dozen different
brands of expensive cigars placed op-
posite the "Guest of Honor's" plate, to
make sure that he would find a brand that
pleased him, for she had read that all
authors smoke, and as she sat in the large,
silk plush chair, reading a book whose
hero reminded her so much of the man
whom she had selected the cigars for, she
little dreamed he was walking along on
the opposite side of the street locating the
house and wondering if he would have the
courage to enter when the time came.
"I think the table is as you wish it,
Ma'am," the servant remarked politely,
and after he had repeated the words the
second time and waited for a reply, he
stepped in front of Miss Kent and forced
a low cough that gained her attention.
"I say, I think the table is as you wish
it, Ma'am."
After she had glanced over the table
carefully, she inquired how many brands
of cigars were at the "Guest of Honor's"
plate, and the servant smiled as he in-
formed her that he had bought two of
every good brand he could think of.
"You may close the doors, if you will,
Henry," and she resumed her seat in the
large plush chair and wandered off among
the pages of her book.
After Helen had entered the room and
remained silent for almost a minute,
which was an exceedingly long time for
her, she inquired of her father's where-
abouts in a voice that was somewhat
suppressed with fear and didn't display
any great desire to be informed that he
was within a hearing distance and when
she learned, through Rosamond's half-
unconscious reply, that he was up in his
room, she spoke in a natural tone, which
usually brought a reply.
788
THE GUEST OF HONOR
"He is always home when the club
meets here and it makes him wild."
After she had given Rosamond sufficient
time to reply and decided that her pres-
ence was not as important as the book,
she seated herself on the arm of her
sister's chair and peeked over her shoulder
long enough to become interested in the
title.
"What are you reading?"
" 'An Author's Life/ and the character
of the author reminds me so much of Mr.
Weatherbee's secretary."
"Is it good for anything?"
"Yes, it is a beautiful story and the
character of the author is so quaint and
witty. I love those droll, witty types."
"You are always admiring some freak.
I wonder if Mr. Weatherbee will come?"
Rosamond's eyes wandered from the
book as she unconsciously lowered it to
the arm of the chair.
"He said he would in his note. What
time is mother coming?"
"She 'phoned that she was on her way
over. I can't wait until she comes."
"Why, you big baby, she has only been
away one night."
"Oh, it isn't that, but I want to tell her
about us finding Marguerite's picture in
Mr. Weatherbee's studio. Isn't that the
strangest thing you ever heard of?" and
even Helen's fluttering mind rested on
the strange coincidence long enough to
remain silent for some few seconds.
The sound of their mother's voice greet-
ing the servant in the reception hall
brought the two girls to their feet.
"Here is mamma now," and Helen was
the first to be folded in her mother's
arms, though Rosamond's slight figure was
held tightly in the same two arms for
many seconds after and one might have
thought from the affectionate greeting,
that the mother had been absent for many
weeks instead of but one night and only
a few squares away in the same city.
"What is the trouble with father?"
"Nothing much, I guess he just wanted
a day off. How is Grandma?"
"In perfect health," and Mrs. Kent's
voice simply bubbled with affectionate
enthusiasm. "Why, she is just the health-
iest old dear you ever saw. How is your
luncheon coming on, Rosamond?"
"All right so far."
"Going to invite me?" Mrs. Kent
asked with an inquiring smile.
"I wish I could."
"Who is the guest of honor today?"
"Mr. Weatherbee, the gentleman who
wrote the beautiful poem I recited at the
entertainment . ' '
"Oh! is he coming?"
"He promised to."
"Rosamond hasn't seen him yet and
she's in love with him."
"Helen, please don't be so smart."
"What does he look like?" asked Mrs.
Kent in a tone of girlish curiosity.
"We haven't seen him," Helen whis-
pered mysteriously, "but his secretary
described him. He is tall and has light
hair, so that settles it."
Mrs. Kent bent forward in her chair
and imitated Helen's mysterious whisper-
ing tone. "Where did you see his secre-
tary?"
"At Mr. Weatherbee's studio," Helen
returned as she opened her eyes wide and
lowered her voice as if she were telling
a child a ghost story and a gentle note
of surprise crept into her mother's voice
as she spoke after a short pause.
"Did you go to his studio?"
"Yes," Rosamond answered in an un-
steady, puzzled tone, which changed the
atmosphere of humor that Helen had
created to one of mild excitement. "I
could hardly wait until you came home
to tell you of what we found there," and
her lips twitched with nervousness as
she paused and looked into her mother's
wondering eyes, for she knew she was not
prepared for the mysterious news she
held in store for her.
"What is it?" Mrs. Kent asked in a
gentle, firm tone as she took Rosamond's
hand and looked at her with a smile of
love that would make a bitter confession
seem like child verse, and when Rosamond
informed her that it was a photograph of
Marguerite they had found she stepped
back and her eyes journeyed from one girl
to the other several times before she spoke.
"Are you sure it was Marguerite?"
"Positive."
"I saw it firsti?! Helen exclaimed, and
her unconscious pride displayed the ab-
sence of any deep interest on the subject,
THE GUEST OF HONOR
789
and she was somewhat grieved when
her remark was passed unnoticed.
"Did you find out where she is?"
"No, Mr. Weatherbee was not in — we
saw his secretary — but I didn't want
to converse with him on the subject. I
thought it better to wait until I saw Mr.
Weatherbee himself."
"Was it an old photograph?"
"One of those she had taken just be-
fore she .was married."
"I was at boarding school when Mar-
guerite was married, wasn't I?" Helen
inquired in a more thoughtful, reminis-
cent tone than she had ever been known
to speak in before.
"Yes, you were only eleven years old
then, my dear," and Mrs. Kent sighed,
her mind back through the eight years
which had turned her hair from a soft
brown to a silvery white.
Helen sat in one of the large chairs and
wrinkled her little white forehead in deep
thought for several minutes. She knew
her mother and sister were not aware of
the information she had gained regard-
ing Marguerite's husband and while she
wasn't proud of the method she used to
enlighten herself on the subject, she was
not at all ashamed.
"Is Marguerite's husband still in prison?"
she asked quietly and deliberately as she
gazed somewhat reproachfully at her
mother and Rosamond, who were so
shocked by the question that they sat
speechless for many seconds.
"Why, Helen!" Mrs. Kent gasped in a
low whisper, "who said he was in prison?"
"Rosamond," she replied in a low,
positive tone that brought Rosamond to
her feet suddenly.
"Why, Helen!"
"I heard you and mother talking about
it."
"When?"
"Oh, a long time ago."
"You listened?"
"Certainly I listened," she remarked
calmly. "You or mamma never tell me
anything, so I have to listen."
The forced note of gentle reproach in
Mrs. Kent's voice failed to conceal her
great love which she unconsciously showed
in spite of her attempt to be severe.
"Helen, I am ashamed of you!"
"Well, I don't care if you are, I'm tired
of being the baby in this house. You
and Rosamond have more secrets and
when I come into the room, you both
cough and start talking about the weather.
You never tell me anything."
"Because you can't keep anything to
yourself, my dear, that is why we never
tell you anything, and you're old enough
to know better. I have often felt it my
duty to tell you about Marguerite, but
didn't because I was afraid of you, un-
consciously, repeating it."
"Well, I should know. She is my
sister and it is your duty to tell me. I
know that she fan away and married
against father's wish and by listening I
learned that her husband is in prison.
I would rather have you tell me the par-
ticulars than hear it from some stranger."
"Helen, do you wish to speak in that
tone of voice to me," her mother asked
quietly, "or are you forgetting?"
"I'm forgetting," she replied regret-
fully, after a brief silence, as she knelt at
her mother's side and squeezed her hand
affectionately. "What is he in prison for?"
"Before they were married he forged
your father's name on a check, but father
spared him to save a scandal. We both
begged Marguerite not to marry him.
Then father forbade her and she ran away
and married in spite of anything we could
say or do. Shortly after they were married
he committed another forgery and was
sent to prison and died there."
"Haven't you ever heard from her
since?"
And her lips trembled as she tried to
utter a "No" that was smothered with
heavy sobs. '"Oh, if she only knew what
I have suffered she would surely write to
me," she said as her head fell to her hands
and shook with bitter grief.
Rosamond smoothed her white hair
tenderly and drew her head affectionately
to her breast, though her own eyes were
moistened with tears and her voice broke
with emotion as she spoke.
"It is not because Marguerite is cruel,
mother, that she doesn't write. If she
were starving her pride would not permit
her to ask for food or tell of her sufferings.
And I'm afraid she is suffering — I feel
sure of it."
790
THE GUEST OF HONOR
"Something tells me she isn't. She
looked so happy in her photograph —
so peaceful. She looked as she did the
last time I saw her — she seemed to speak
to me, and something tells me that we are
going to find her — and she is coming home."
Mrs. Kent raised her head slowly and
with a feeble, hopeful smile whispered the
words half to herself: "Coming home!"
"I feel sure of it," Rosamond con-
tinued. "I don't know why, but I do.
It all seems so strange that we should call
on this man whom we have never met
and find her photograph there. It seems
like a good omen, and I am positive we
are going to find her." And a sign of
hope crept into the three sad faces as Mrs.
Kent took each of the girls' hands and
crowded a smile through her tears and
forced a cheerful note into her voice.
"We'll hope and trust and pray."
The click of the heavy oak library door
sent a warning glance from each to the
other as they hurriedly dried their eyes and
sat in different chairs.
"Are you going to tell father?" Helen
whispered.
"No," Mrs. Kent replied in a still
lower whisper as she mechanically cleared
her throat and tried to manufacture a
conversation regarding the luncheon as
she fussed nervously with her small lace
handkerchief.
"Dick" Kent, as he was commonly
called by members of the stock exchange,
strolled leisurely from his library, where
he had been in close touch with his Wall
Street office, although absent. His hands
were pushed deep into the pockets of his
dark trousers and the end of a long black
cigar, which protruded from the lengthy
gold-trimmed amber cigar holder that he
held between his two heavy, clean shaven
lips, scarcely extended as far forward as
his stomach. What white hair there was
left, on the sides and back of his head,
stood straight on its end, which was caused
by the many visits from his nervous
fingers. His deep, harsh voice, which
would bluff any New York cab horse into
stepping lively, was understood, though
not always admired by his family.
"Hello, you've been crying!" was his
greeting to Mrs. Kent as he entered the
drawing room and removed the cigar from
his lips long enough to kiss her on the
cheek. "What's the trouble?" and Mrs.
Kent murmured a faint "Nothing" as he
stood before her waiting for an explanation.
"Yes, there is!" and he raised his voice
to a key that would have frightened a
stranger.
"She cried when we told her you were
too ill to go to your office," Helen exclaimed
in a tone of mock sympathy, as she hurried
to her mother's side and held her hand and
patted it tenderly.
Kent threw his head back and grunted
a conceited laugh, which told his pride
had been lightly touched. "Oh, there's
nothing the matter with me — a little cold,
that's all," and he started for the library
and addressed Rosamond without turning.
"What time are the celebrities coming?"
"At two."
"Is Miss Butterwing coming?" he asked
with a touch of sarcastic humor;
"I think so."
"Let me know when she arrives, will
you?"
"Why?"
"I want to go up to my room."
His wit was responded to by the "family
laugh" that was always pitched in the
same key — delivered in the same tempo
and never consisted of more than three
ha ha's.
Though Helen had often doubled her
weekly allowance by tucking on a few extra
ha ha's at one of his pet jokes, "She
won't bother you today," she said with a
great deal of assurance. "She'll he after
Mr. Weatherbee."
Kent paused and spoke without turn-
ing, after he had delivered a few heavy
clouds of smoke from his cigar. "Who
is Mr. Weatherbee?"
"Mr. Weatherbee is the Guest of Honor
today," Rosamond answered, and her un-
conscious enthusiasm only made Mr.
Kent more curious.
"Who is he?" he asked sharply without
removing the cigar from his lips.
"An author," was Rosamond's timid
reply after a slight hesitation, which was
caused by the gruffness of his voice.
"Of what?"
"I have oniy read two of his poems
that he gave to the Society — I have
never met him."
THE GUEST OF HONOR
791
Kent jerked the cigar from his lips as he
turned and walked toward Rosamond,
eyeing her severely. "Never met him and
inviting him to your home?"
"It is customary to invite a strange
author as a guest of honor to our luncheon."
"Do any of the ladies of your Club
know him?" and as Rosamond shook her
head and whispered a positive "No" he
stepped back in utter surprise and was
silent many seconds before he found words
to express his astonishment.
"Rosamond, I do not approve of this.
You shouldn't invite a person to your
home until you know something of him.
I wish your society wouldn't use your
home to entertain men whom they have
never met. You know, Rosamond," and
he stepped forward and placed his heavy
hand on her shoulder, as he bent over her
and lowered his harsh voice until it mel-
lowed into a key of rough sympathy, "we
were taught one sad lesson by allowing a
man to call here whom we didn't know."
"We think this man is a gentleman,"
and the note of sincerity in her voice only
augmented her father's savage gruffness
as he gripped her shoulder in his hand and
shook it until she winced, though his
brutal clutch was meant for affection.
"You should be sure, my dear, you should
be positive," and as he entered the library,
he slammed the heavy door after him
and sank in the massive leather chair and
tried to smoke away the misery that his
many millions hadn't kept from entering
his palace door.
CHAPTER IX
Kent's advice, which was based on real
facts that had caused so many heart aches
in his family, left the three ladies sitting
with bowed heads and their minds ponder-
ing over the past and each one silently
asking themselves if he were right. Mrs.
Kent favored his opinion to a degree, but
was undecided as to what step her husband
would take toward the strange man if
he knew he possessed a photograph of
their daughter and the 'knowledge of her
whereabouts. One deep sigh followed
the other until Helen's -sympathy on the
subject had become exhausted and she
became somewhat impatient with herself
and everyone concerned.
"Oh, don't mind him," she grunted.
"He has a bad case of indigestion."
The unexpected remark and the pouty,
jerky tone in which it was delivered, brought
her mother and Rosamond half way back
to earth, and though neither spoke, the
humorous expression of their eyes as they
glanced at the child explained their opinion
of her incapability to be serious for more
than a minute at a time, no matter how
fatal the subject might be.
The butler appeared at the door and
announced Mr. Thisby, and the words
had scarcely left his lips before Helen
exclaimed "Show him in quick!" and
the butler faile'd to conceal his broad
smile as he hurried away, and though
Helen's boisterous manner surprised her
sister and shocked her mother, they
didn't succeed in hiding the fact that they
were also amused.
"What on earth is he calling at this
hour for?" Rosamond asked in a voice
that was equally blended with astonish-
ment and annoyance.
"Because I told him to."
"Now remember, Helen, don't ask him
to stay to lunch," and Rosamond marked
each word with an emphatic nod of her
head.
"Oh, he doesn't want to stay," Helen
answered in a voice of exaggerated pride.
"He'd stay if you gave him half an in-
vitation."
"You shouldn't mind him," Mrs. Kent
remarked casually. "I should think you
would be so used to him that you wouldn't
notice him, and Mrs. Thisby likes to have
him come over here because then she
knows where he is. I don't mind him;
he seems just like a girl to me."
As Rosamond and her mother left the
room, Helen seated herself and pretended
to read the book Rosamond had for-
gotten, though she was gazing several
inches above the top of the book and
listening attentively for Thisby's voice,
and as he "ahemmed" politely, she me-
chanically dropped the book and ex-
claimed in a forced dramatic tone: "Oh,
how you frightened me!"
"I'm jolly well sorry, I thought you
knew I was here, don't you know."
"Well, I didn't, and I'm not aware of
the fact yet," and she picked up her book
792
THE GUEST OF HONOR
and held it within a few inches of her
eyes and smiled behind its pages.
"Really now, stop capering, don't you
know. Aren't you going for a spin?"
"Certainly not, you know the Club
is giving a luncheon here today in honor of
Mr. Weatherbee," and she turned several
pages of the book over hurriedly.
"But you don't care anything about
the blooming Club!"
She rose to her feet slowly and drew
her shoulders up until they almost covered
her ears, then spoke in a whispering gasp
that would have frightened herself if she
hadn't had such a struggle to keep from
laughing, "How dare you call it a bloom-
ing Club?" and she sank into the chair
with disgust and pretended to read, but
was not aware that she was holding the
book upside down.
"Bless my soul, I'm only jesting. You
said yesterday you didn't care about
remaining to the luncheon and if I'd call
you would go for a spin, don't you know."
"Well, if I did I have changed my
mind. I wish to remain and meet Mr.
Weatherbee," and -she emphasized Mr.
Weatherbee with a vengeance as she
noticed she was holding the book up-
side down.
"Oh, tommyrot, and are you going to
remain in the house all the blooming
afternoon just to meet that blithering
idiot?"
After she had gazed at him for several
seconds with a tragic expression of con-
tempt, she remarked quietly as she used
her shoulders to help accentuate her
disgust, "You are positively vulgar."
Though Thisby was aware that she was
playing another one of her dignified roles,
he was somewhat puzzled at the quiet
method she had chosen, and a pleading
note crept into his small, whiny voice
as he advanced a few steps toward her
chair.
"Well, he is; he's a blithering ass, upon
my soul he is," and his worried, apologetic
tone pleased her childish vanity and she
held the book close to her face to hide her
smile as she continued in her low tone,
which was humorously sarcastic: "I'm
going to tell Rosamond, and she will tell
Mr. Weatherbee and I hope he'll thrash
you good!"
"And I suppose you'd be jolly well glad
to help him, I'm thinking really."
"Yes, I would, speaking in such a rude
way of a man with brains," and she threw
a glance of contempt over the top of her
book that silenced Thisby for several
seconds, but after he had recovered and
adjusted his tie, he seemed to take on
new courage.
"Brains!" he exclaimed in a bragga-
docious tone. "Just because he wrote a
few blithering poems that have put all the
ladies daft."
"His poems are simply beautiful,"
Helen replied in a high, taunting key as
she raised her eyes to the ceiling and shook
her head in admiration.
"Anyone can write poems if they care
to waste time that way, don't you know.
Just to show you how easy it is, I scribbled
one off last night, before I retired, and I'll
wager my head it's more to the point than
Weatherbee's, upon my word it is really."
Helen quickly forgot the part she was
playing and jumped to her feet with great
enthusiasm. "Did you really write a
poem?"
"Upon my word," Thisby replied as he
removed a small piece of paper from the
pocket of his waistcoat.
"Read it," and she clapped the covers
of her book together and sank in the chair
and listened earnestly, and after he had
read a few lines, he was interrupted by
her long drawn out "Oh," that seemed to
last a minute, as she gazed reproachfully
into his guilty eyes. "You hypocrite, that
is in this month's Smart Set."
"Upon my word I wrote it," and he held
the poem, which was written in his own
handwriting, close to her eyes.
"Yes, you wrote it, but you copied it
out of the Smart Set."
"Well, I wrote it, anyway," he returned
with a smile. "Oh, Helen, don't rig me;
on your word, aren't you going for a
spin?"
"No, I'm going to stay for the luncheon."
"Then by Jove, I stay, too!"
"You can't." '
"I will, upon my word, if you don't go
for a spin — I stick," and he sat in the
chair, crossed his legs, folded his arms
and formed a picture of defiance, which
succeeded to make her forget the dignified
GOD'S MARINER 793
role she had been playing and be quite "But he is coming."
her excited self. "Well I can sit in there while you are
"You can't, I tell you, Mr. Weatherbee at luncheon and let the Governor guy me
is the guest of honor and there are no and we'll take a spin after — a jolly happy
other men allowed." thought, don't you know — really it is,
"I'll sit in the library," he answered I must explode it to the Governor," and
firmly. he entered the library prepared for his
"You can't, papa is in there." usual guying, which always terminated
"I'll smoke him out with one cigarette." with some sound business advice.
"I dare you to smoke a cigarette in After his feeble tap on the door had
there!" . been answered by Kent's gruff "Come in,"
"I know what I'll do," and he clapped and he broke the several seconds of
his hands together as if a great thought chilled silence that greeted him with a
had arrived: "I'll go in and let the bold, "Howdy, Governor," that was an-
governor guy me 'til luncheon time and — swered by an unwelcome grunt followed by
"You can't," interrupted Helen, who another cold wave of silence which amused
was becoming extremely worried at the Thisby more than it frightened him, for
persistent attitude he had taken. "There he had been a sort of a plaything around
are no other men permitted to the luncheon the Kent home too many years to be
but Mr. Weatherbee." frozen out by Mr. Kent refusing to enter
"But if he doesn't come you'd be jolly into a conversation, and sitting with his
well glad to have me here to fill up the feet up on the desk, leaving nothing for
gap, don't you know." Thisby to see but the back of his head.
( To be continued )
GOD'S MARINER
(For the New England Convalescent Rest Home)
By EDNA DEAN PROCTOR
I EAGUES from the light by the harbor side
•*— ' Is the good ship, fast on a sandy shoal,
Waiting the wind and the morning tide
To spurn the bar for her distant goal;
Ah! when the strong waves lift her keel,
The sails will be wings, the timbers steel.
So voyagers over life's rough sea,
In darkness cast on shoal or shore,
Wait for some tide of sympathy
To bear them out to the deep once more —
Some blessed wind of cheer to blow;
Some guiding light of love to glow.
Let us be light and wind and tide
For those awreck on its chartless main! —
Giving anew the hope that died;
Speeding them still their port to gain ;
For oh! God's mariner is he
Who helps the storm-tossed brave the sea!
Copyright, 1905, by Edna Dean Proctor
Conqueror
By EMIL CARL AURIN
IT'S easy to laugh when the skies are blue
* And the sun is shining bright;
Yes, easy to laugh when your friends are true
And there's happiness in sight;
But when Hope has fled and the skies are gray,
And the friends of the past have turned away,
Ah, then indeed it's a hero's feat
To conjure a smile in the face of defeat.
It's easy to laugh when the storm is o'er
And your ship is safe in port;
Yes, easy to laugh when you're on the shore
Secure from the tempest's sport;
But when wild waves wash o'er the storm-swept deck
And your gallant ship is a battered wreck,
Ah, that is the time when it's well worth whib
To look in the face of defeat with a smile.
It's easy to laugh when the battle's fought
And you know that the victory's won;
Yes, easy to laugh when the prize you sought
Is yours when the race is run;
But here's to the man who can laugh when the blast
Of adversity blows, he will conquer at last,
For the hardest man in the world to beat
Is the man who can laugh in the face of defeat.
A CENTURY'S GRJDWTH
IN
EDERAL XPENDITURES
A COMPARISON OF THE ESTIMATES FOR 1802
WITH EXPENDITURES FOR 1911
by
Fred P* Fellows
Assistant Clerk, Committee on Appropriations, House of Representatives
OT long ago there were
found, among some forgot-
ten files in the Capitol
building at Washington, a
number of old documents
dating back to the early
days of the Republic. Per-
haps the most interesting
of these, especially to one
who has given any atten-
tion whatever to the federal expenditures
during recent years, is one entitled: "An
Estimate of an Appropriation of Monies
for the Services of the Year 1802." It
is written in a bold hand upon heavy
parchment paper, covering some thirty
pages, eleven by seventeen inches. The
ink has only slightly faded during the
more than a century since the document
was transmitted to Congress, "accompany-
ing a letter from the Secretary of the
Treasury, received the fourteenth of
December, 1801," at the beginning of the
first session of the seventh Congress.
Thomas Jefferson was then President and
Albert Gallatin Secretary of the Treasury.
The total appropriations estimated,
for all departments and activities of the
Government, were $3,448,147.18. Surely,
a mighty oak has grown from this little
acorn, for one hundred and nine years
later, on the fifth of December, 1910,
the Secretary of the Treasury transmitted
to Congress the book of estimates for
appropriations for the fiscal year ending
June 30, 1912, a quarto volume containing
688 closely printed pages, calling for appro-
priations of $748,414,860.81, two hundred
and fourteen times the amount required
for 1802! The estimates for "increase of
the navy," that is, additional ships of war
alone, for 1912 is $23,294,047.67, seven
times the total cost of Government one
hundred and ten years earlier! The total
appropriations for the present fiscal year
1911 are $805,294,512.59, exclusive of
$243,907,020. for the postal service, all
but about ten millions of which will be
paid out of the postal revenues.
There were, at that early day, but four
of our present executive departments in
existence — the State, War and Treasury
departments, all established in 1789, and
the Navy department established in 1798.
A general post office, with the Postmaster
General at its head, was established in
1789; but while its growth was continuous
and it gradually assumed many of the
(795)
796 A CENTURY'S GROWTH IN FEDERAL EXPENDITURES
functions now performed by the Post
Office Department, it was not established
under that name until 1872. While the
Department of Justice was not made a
separate department until 1870, the office
of attorney-general was created in 1789.
Besides these departments, which had
their genesis during the early years of the
Republic, we now have the Interior De-
partment, established in 1849; the Agri-
cultural Department, in 1889; and the
Department of Commerce and Labor,
in 1903. There are now nine executive
departments, the heads of which each
receive $12,000 a year.
The purposes for which appropriations
were asked in 1802 were classified as
follows: (1) Civil Department, under
which are grouped the legislative, that is,
the expenses of Congress, the executive,
including the expenses of the President
and the several departments; and the
judiciary. (2) Miscellaneous, under
which are grouped annuities and grants,
military pensions, mint establishments,
lighthouse establishment, surveying de-
partment, miscellaneous claims, contingent
fund, second census, and quarantine laws.
(3) Intercourse with foreign nations, in-
cluding "diplomatic, treaties, captures,
and seamen." And finally (4) the mili-
tary and (5) the naval establishments of
every kind.
As the Union then comprised only
sixteen states, there were thirty-two
Senators and one hundred and five Repre-
sentatives, who were compensated at the
rate of six dollars per day for 150 days.
The total expenses of Congress were
$179,526.66. This year, with ninety-two
Senators and 391 Representatives, each
receiving $7,500 a year, the expenses of
the legislative department are $6,483,-
275.25.
The President of the United States then
received $25,000 a year. This appears
to have been the total expense of the execu-
tive at that time, no estimate having
been submitted for clerical service or for
maintenance of an official residence. To-
day the President receives $75,000, with
$25,000 for traveling expenses, while
clerical services and contingent expenses
at the executive office cost $95,560 and
maintenance of the White House $53,510,
a total of $249,070. The Vice-President
then received $5,000; now $12,000.
The total expense of the State Depart-
ment in 1802 was $22,710, of which the
Secretary, who was then James Madison,
received $3,500. This year this depart-
ment is costing $387,700. Our diplomatic
service then consisted of three ministers,
one at London, one at Paris and one at
Madrid at $9,000 each; and our consular
service consisted of a consul at Algiers
at $4,000, and three consuls, at Morocco,
Tunis and Tripoli, each receiving $2,000.
This was during the height of the power
and insolence of the Barbary states, when
tribute was levied by them on the ships
of all nations. For some years Congress
appropriated money to meet their de-
mands, but the bombardment of Tripoli
and the destruction of many of their ships
by an American fleet under command of
Edward Preble in 1804, humbled their
arrogance and made it unnecessary there-
after for us to pay them such marked
attention. The total expenditures incident
to our foreign intercourse were then
$132,116.67; while today the cost of
exercising this function, including the
diplomatic and consular service, is
$3,969,866.41.
The Treasury Department, the head
of which received $3,500, then cost
$79,444.34. This year the appropriation
is $4,440,310. The War Department,
including the salary of the Secretary at
'$3,000, then cost $27,250, while today
it costs $2,227,168. The Navy Depart-
ment, including $3,000 for the Secretary,
then cost $19,910; today, $821,340. These
amounts are merely for the maintenance
of the executive offices in Washington
and do not include either the military or
the naval establishment, the expenses of
which have always been estimated for
separately. That the mode of living was
then as primitive as were the needs of
the departments is indicated by an esti-
mate for the purchase of candles for pur-
poses of illumination.
The general post office then cost $10,260,
of which the Postmaster General received
$2,400. It is evident that this service,
which has seen such phenomenal growth,
was then expanding, for two additional
clerks are asked for on account of "the
A CENTURY'S GROWTH IN FEDERAL EXPENDITURES
797
great number of new post-roads established
in 1800 and 1801." A deficiency of $45
is also estimated for because of this in-
crease. Inasmuch as the entire clerical
force then received but $4,250, it may
be presumed that this extra amount was
not extravagant. An estimate for saddle-
bags recalls the "pony express" and the
stage coach, which were the only means
for transporting the mails during the
early days. This year the postal service,
including $1,697,490 for the department
at Washington, will cost $245,604,510,
all of which, with the exception of a de-
ficiency of $10,634,122.63, will be met
out of the revenues received from the
postal service.
For the judiciary, including the salary
of the Attorney-General at $2,400, we
were expending in 1802, $137,200. Today
we are spending for the expenses of our
judicial system about $10,000,000.
The territories then consisted of the
"territory northwest of the Ohio," the
Mississippi territory and the Indiana
territory, the government of which cost
$16,500. .It was not until the following
year that, through the foresight of Presi-
dent Jefferson, we purchased from France
the great expanse west of the Mississippi.
The expenses of the Indian service in
1802 were estimated at only $60,750,
of which sum $17,000 was for the payment
of annuities to the Six Nations of Indians,
and to the Cherokees, Chickasaws, Creeks
and Choctaws. Practically every Indian
of these tribes has succumbed to the
processes of "civilization" and passed
to the happy hunting ground, while the
remaining tribes "are slowly but sadly
climbing the distant mountains and read-
ing their doom in the setting sun." The
expense of paying the annuities was
$10,000; from which it would appear
that the cost of administering the service
in proportion to the good derived by the
Indians was as great then as it is today.
This year we are spending for the support,
education and civilization of the Indians
$8,837,380.
Our pension roll was then $93,000. To-
day we pay in pensions $155,000,000;
while the maintenance of the Pension
Bureau and agencies costs us $2,610,120
a year. An appropriation of $16,000 was
asked for in the estimates for 1802 for
completing the taking of the second
census. The taking of the census for 1910
will cost more than $10,000,000.
But by far the most interesting of all
the estimates made in this document,
in view of our present large expenditures
in preparation for war, are those for the
expenses of the military and naval es-
tablishments. Our army was then com-
posed of a general staff, two troops of
cavalry, two regiments of artilleryists
and engineers, and four regiments of
infantry, numbering, all told, 5,441 officers
and men. The pay of these men amounted
to $488,496; their subsistence, $306,497.80;
clothing, $141,530; medical and hospital
service, $16,000, and quartermasters' de-
partment, $120,000, making a total of
$1,072,523.80. This year the pay of our
army of over 81,000 officers and enlisted
men is costing us $45,118,446.95; their sub-
sistence, $8,700,000; medical and hospital
service, $718,000; and quartermasters' de-
partment, including $6,000,000 for cloth-
ing, $35,083,620.60, making a total of
$89,620,067.55.
Armories, arsenals and magazines then
cost $66,766.88. An armory was then main-
tained at Harper's Ferry, then on the
frontier. This year we are spending for
armories .and arsenals $499,100. The
fortifications estimated for in 1802 were
to cost $120,000; while the appropriations
for fortifications this year are $5,417,200.
An estimate for four thousand flints
and forty thousand musket cartridges,
together with $60 for flour for hair powder,
brings to one's mind the picture of the
soldier of the Revolution and the early
days of the Nation, with his picturesque
uniform, powdered wig and flint-lock
musket.
The total expenditures for the military
establishment estimated for in 1802 were
$1,366,840.68. For 1911 the total ex-
penditures for all military purposes are
$109,376,738.24.
The popular demand of today for large
appropriations for the navy makes exceed-
ingly interesting a comparison between
the estimates for the naval establishment
in 1802 and the appropriations for 1911.
The navy of the United States in 1802,
"retained agreeably to the act providing
798 A CENTURY'S GROWTH IN FEDERAL EXPENDITURES
for a naval peace establishment," con-
sisted of five frigates of forty-four guns,
the "United States," "Constitution,"
"President," "Chesapeake" and "Phila-
delphia"; three frigates of thirty-six guns,
the "Constellation," "Congress" and "New
York"; two frigates of thirty -two guns,
the "Boston" and "Essex"; three smaller
frigates of thirty-two guns, the "Adams,"
"John Adams" and "General Greene";
and one schooner, the "Enterprise," of
twelve guns. The names of these ships,
almost every one of which participated in
the memorable naval engagements of
the War of 1812, when our navy proved
more than a match for the ships of Eng-
land, are familiar to every schoolboy.
The "Constitution," which rendered such
signal service during that war, has been
immortalized in the stirring poem "Old
Ironsides," written by Oliver Wendell
Holmes as a protest against the sale of
the ship when it had become useless as
a war vessel.
On March 3, 1801, Congress passed
an act providing for a "naval peace es-
tablishment." Under this act the Presi-
dent was authorized, if in his judgment
the situation of public affairs rendered
it expedient, to cause to be sold, after
they had first been divested of their guns
and military stores, all or any of the ships
of the navy, except the frigates above
named. Six of those retained were to be
kept in constant service in time of peace,
with not to exceed two-thirds of their
complement of officers and men, who were
to receive only half pay during the time
not in actual service. The rest of the
ships were to be "laid up at convenient
ports," each with only a very small com-
plement of men. Pursuant to this act,
six frigates — four of forty -four and two of
thirty-two guns — and two schooners of
twelve guns each, in actual service, and
seven frigates "laid up in ordinary," were
estimated for.
The cost of maintenance of a forty-
four-gun ship, the largest then afloat,
including the pay of the 312 officers and
men, provisions and subsistence, medical
and hospital supplies, and contingencies,
was $92,429; that of a frigate of thirty-
six guns and 270 men, $79,065.40; a frigate
of thirty-two guns and 215 men $62,495.41,
and a schooner of twelve guns with fifty -
eight men $20,653.26. The total cost
of maintenance of the fleet of six ships
in actual service was $536,013.34, and of
the seven laid up in ordinary, $47,716;
while the total cost of maintaining the
navy with about twenty-five hundred men,
including the marine corps, was estimated
at $696,390.57. This amount would not
be sufficient to maintain a single battle-
ship today, as this cost, in round figures,
is about $1,000,000 for each first-class
ship. Today the pay alone of the 50,396
officers and men of the navy amounts to
$34,534,086. The contingent expenses
of the navy in 1802, including "wear and
tare and repairs of the vessels," cost only
$103,400; while today we are spending
$8,979,144 for repairs.
The act above referred to also specified
what should be the rations of the crews
for each day of the week. The food supply
consisted of beef, pork, flour, suet, cheese,
butter, peas, rice, molasses, and vinegar,
one or two articles of which were included
in a day's ration, besides bread and spirits
which were served every day. It is
curious to note that of the $24,550.36
which it cost to supply provisions for a
ship of forty-four guns with 312 men,
$8,007.75, or practically one-third, was
expended for "spirits," of which 7,118
gallons were estimated for.
Regardless of the fact that it was then
the intention of Congress to reduce the
expenses of the naval establishment,
as is evidenced by the act referred to,
it seems that there was no disposition
to limit the size of warships; for the es-
timates state that "there will be required
for procuring materials for the six seventy-
four-gun ships, and completing the procur-
ing of frames for two extra ships, $305,000."
The construction of these ships had been
authorized and an appropriation of
$500,000 made at the previous session,
during which the act to establish a naval
peace establishment had been enacted,
and this sum was in furtherance of their
building. The present year we are spend-
ing on account of increase of the navy
alone, $32,125,846. The cost of a single
"dreadnought," including hull, machinery,
armor and armament, is about $14,000,-
000. The improvement of the navy yards,
THE MORNING STAR 799
dock yards and wharves then called for that time grown from an infant republic
an appropriation of $100,000. Today of 5,308,483 people, with territory ex-
maintenance of yards and docks costs us tending only to the Mississippi to a world
$1,290,000 — more than the total require- power of 91,972,266 souls, a country com-
ments of the navy for 1802, which were prising states and possessions then un-
$1,101,390.57. The total appropriations dreamed of, and a wealth amounting to
on account of the navy for 1911 are more than $115,000,000,000. The com-
$130,876,062.44. parison of our expenditures then and now
The total cost of the military and naval serves, however, to cause us to pause
establishments in 1802 was estimated at and give some attention to the cost of our
$2,468,231.25 out of a total expenditure federal government which has increased
of $3,448,147.18. For this year the total by leaps and bounds, until the billion-
cost of the military and naval establish- dollar Congress, which startled the country
ments is $240,252,800.68 out of a total twenty years ago, has given way to the
expenditure of $805,294,512.59, exclusive billion-dollar session, and that, too, not
of the cost of the postal service. only without effective protest upon the
This enormous increase in the expendi- part of the people but rather with their
tures of our federal government, during tacit approval; and the public money is
the century and more which has elapsed being expended for a multiplicity of govern-
since 1802, does not of itself convict the mental functions of which the founders
Nation of extravagance, for we have in of the Republic could never have dreamed.
THE MORNING STAR
(John Greenleaf Whittier died at dawn, September 7, 1892)
By EDNA DEAN PROCTOR
LJOW long and weary are the nights," he said,
*1 "When thought and memory wake, and sleep has fled;
When phantoms from the past the chamber fill,
And tones, long silent, all my pulses thrill;
While, sharp as doom, or faint in distant towers,
Knell answering knell, the chimes repeat 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 morning star."
O Vanished One! 0 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 comrade 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 morning star!
Copyright, 1905, by Edna Dea Proctor
BOOKS
IN AN
EDITORIAL
by JOG Mitchell Chappie
I HERE are times when we
want to talk about books;
not new books, or rare
books, but just our own
books. When the new home
was secured, I discovered,
on the second floor back,
a small room with two windows which
seemed to flood it with rays of golden
sunshine every hour of the day. For its
use I made suitable petition, and the little
room was soon transformed into an edi-
torial workshop. I never can tell you how
much pleasure I took in just putting away
those books, for each volume, as I picked
it up and found just the nook for it, seemed
to awaken some precious memory.
The old school books, the grammar and
algebra that had caused me so many hours
of boyish worry and work, the "First
Latin Book" and Fenimore Cooper's
tales — but hold, I must not go too far or
I shall scoff at the five-foot shelf library
recommended by Doctor Eliot. Though
somehow I think that no one set of books
can be of like benefit to every man. Cer-
tainly when I looked over my own books
I didn't begin to find all the volumes so
highly proclaimed to be the representative
books of the world. Every volume pur-
chased for my little library I secured be-
cause I wanted it — I may have only
"dipped into it," but it's mine, and it
stands on my library shelf for "browsing"
reference at any time. This is why I feel
sometimes that library privileges can
never take the place of reading one's
own books. You need to own the book,
dog-ear it, mark it on the margin — you
need to feel that you paid for it because
you admired the author and desired his
works, and can spend an evening or a
few moments with him when you wish,
seeing with his eyes and feeling his emo-
tions—not that you must read the volume
under pressure and within the two weeks'
limit lest you be taxed two cents a day for
overtime.
So I put them in place, and now they
are all here — even to the bound volumes
that came out of the old peach-box nailed
on the wall of the garret of the old home."
It was a revelation of why the boys drifted
into magazine work — the impulse that
led to binding copies of the North Ameri-
can Review, Harper's and the Century, un-
consciously indicated a trend of youthful
ambition.
It's an odd lot of books — there are
many old volumes long out of print —
not all the "best sellers," forsooth, though
a few of these are there! Here is a dainty
bit of blue — Eugene Field's verse in the
little "poet's corner" where a moment
may be spent with Keats or Coleridge,
Wordsworth or Longfellow — a niche to
me even more sacred than the famed
Poet's Corner of Westminster Abbey.
Close by are ranged in solid phalanx
an historical series, to say nothing of the
fascinating leather-bound Plutarch's Lives,
just below the lurid covers of Balzac's
and Dumas' works, the military row of
cyclopedias, and the corner where Carlyle
stands so imperiously. Here are the
"complete" sets — you always want to
emphasize the "complete," even though
you may never have read more than one
volume. (Collier's of revered memory
got the money).
Here's a set of George Eliot — but there
are some olive-tinted volumes that look
as if they had been read twice — Thomas
Hardy's charming tales! Near the little
red "Spectator" of Addison and the
"American Statesmen" series, stands a
(800)
BOOKS IN AN EDITORIAL WORKSHOP
801
book picked up in Paris on the banks of
the Seine, another from ' "Auld Edin-
burgh," and those trim, deep-garnet robed
volumes of Ruskin, perhaps too sparsely
read, but inspiring withal. Must not we
all make a show of the book collector's
fervor?
How much inspiration I have had from
little books such as Hammerton's "In-
tellectual Life," Marcus Aurelius and
Montaigne, not to speak of yonder two
dainty volumes of Emerson. Lafcadio
Hearn's "Two Years in the West Indies"
is well-worn and has many thumbed pages.
Prescott's "Conquest of Mexico" is dotted
with notations made during a Mexican
trip, and then, master of English prose,
Macaulay — whose deathless Essays both
inspire and nourish a thirst for sterling
literature! The sturdy volumes of Thack-
eray and Dickens, read and re-read long
ago, have still their charm and are kept
on the top shelf in memory of bygone days.
Yes, here are HEART THROBS, HEART
SONGS, HAPPY HABIT and HISTORY MAK-
ING awakening the many associations
connected with their preparation. "The
Affair Next Door," by Anna Katherine
Green, shows that there are times when
the mood calls for a real detective story —
and "Jane Eyre" with the mark of childish
thumbs is blotted with youthful tears
in several of the "weepy" places.
Here are little, old-fashioned books —
"Fireside Greetings," published no one
knows how long ago, but valued because
of the old associations, and one of mother's
dainty books appropriated and stamped
with the embryo book-mark printed on
the toy press in the old home — "J. M. C.'s
Library No. 7." The little Bible she
gave on a never-to-be-forgotten birth-
day, and "Marmion" and "The Lady of
the Lake" — all revive sacred memories
of long ago. Tennyson's "Idylls of the
King" — how many a quiet winter even-
ing's reading that little volume has fur-
nished! A Sunday evening's dip into
Nixon Waterman's or Ben King's charm-
ing verse pleases, now and then, or study
of Bryce's "American Commonwealth" or
Herbert Spencer's "First Principles" when
one feels good and strong.
Then there are the new books which
have accumulated on the desk rack.
After a glance at Professor Babbitt's
"The New Laocoon" — what a stirring
of one's deeper sensibilities arises from
perusing books with ideas which we are not
often privileged to meet. His "Literature
and the American College" is a most
fascinating discussion of literature as
studied in the university of today, more
or less foreshadowing the literary taste
of American homes of the future.
Hold a minute — I spy a dainty, white-
covered book which recalls the days of
the "Heavenly Twins" and of "Trilby"—
how long ago it seems since they were
the rage of literary- folk ! And then those
gift-books from friends, and the old
ribbon book-mark in the volume pre-
sented on high school graduation day!
It seems sometimes, as I sit among
these few thousand books, in the long
evenings, that I am in the midst of men
and women who have lived centuries ago
and today and yesterday — that I am al-
most in personal communion with those
who wrote them — nay, with the shadowy
characters whose counterfeit presentiment
their genius summoned from the shades.
I can see in each one, between the lines,
some personal equation and realize that
they after all lived as we have lived.
For we are the same that our fathers have
been, I am reminded as I look into that
wonderful "Gray's Elegy" dear to the
soul of the martyred Lincoln. Yes, give
me the good old books — they may repose
undisturbed upon the shelves for weeks,
months or even years, but each one has
attached to it a memory.
There is no catalog — no classification —
no card index. Sometimes I think books,
as well as folks, are over-systematized
these days, and it's just a delightful
harum-scarum library, that we have in
our home. Every hour of the day will
bring its own pleasure or profit, as the
eye runs over the backs of the books,
and chooses its own, rather than going
through the passionless survey of a
sterilized set of exact card indexes.
Nor are the books "arranged" — it's
refreshing to find Gibbon's "Decline and
Fall" beside "Innocents Abroad," and
twentieth century Robert W. Chambers'
"The Fighting Chance" leaning heavily
upon Smollet and Fielding. The several
802
AT HOME
lives of Lincoln are scattered far and wide
— one, I note, is next Forrest Crissy's
"Tattlings of a Retired Politician."
Wagner's "Simple Life," read because of
Colonel Roosevelt's say-so, stands be-
side Lew Wallace's "Prince of India."
At the door, as if to veritably guard
the entrance, stand the bound volumes of
the NATIONAL, and hard by the Inter-
national Encyclopedia, and "Notable
Americans — a collection that of itself
reaches the five-foot limit, and the five-
year limit on perusal — though I've never
attempted it.
Parkman's "Struggle for a Continent"
is beside Meredith's "Diana of the Cross-
ways" — and here are Robert and Elizabeth
Barrett Browning's individual volumes
standing side by side, even as they worked
in life. Stirring Browning — when you
feel that you want to get at the very
essence of things, consult him and compare
his charming written thoughts with your
own emotions. The rest of the shelf is oc-
cupied by the complete Kipling — I almost
forgot to mention it — with everything yet
unread, alas, save the irresistible "Soldiers
Three," "The Light that Failed" and the
delightful "Barrack Room Ballads."
It may be in the heat of a summer's
afternoon, or in the glow of a winter's
evening — or perhaps on a cloudy day or
in crisp autumn — but there is always
a companion book for the weather and
the mood. I would not have you think
I am "bookish," no, nor even "well read"-
I have only had time to "dip" occasionally
and try to get out of the books the spirit
that lies subtly hidden in the paper and
ink. I look over the volumes as I would
glance through the diary of an old friend —
for men who write that which lives must
be friends to all humanity in the broad
and universal sense. The glories of
Alexandria's great library of tradition
in ashes and of all the other notable collec-
tions in the world, can be nothing to one's
own humble library with its rambling
array and varied bindings. It may not
be beautiful or ornate in rare bindings;
its capacity may not be impressive or
awe-inspiring, but in that little library
on the Second Floor Back, you will usually
find an editor, who when at home delights
in meeting the old friends in books, and in
talking to readers when surrounded by the
work of those whose pens have left messages
indelibly inscribed in favorite books.
In such an environment it is not difficult
to anticipate the responsive sympathy of
those readers at least who love best the
books at home.
AT HOME
""THE rain is sobbing on the wold;
* The house is dark, the hearth is cold:
And stretching drear and ashy gray
Beyond the cedars, lies the bay.
My neighbor at his window stands,
His youngest baby in his hands;
The others seek his tender kiss,
And one sweet woman crowns his bliss.
I look upon the rainy wild;
I have no wife, I have no child;
There is no fire upon my hearth.
And none to love me on the earth.
-Bayard Taylor, in the book "Heart Throbs"
LOSTAND HIDDEN
TR.E A S U FL E
CKartosWinslow Hall
OSSESSORS of great treasures
have rarely been able to ex-
hibit them freely to an admir-
ing and envious world. At the
best, they are compelled to sur-
round them with guards and
defences, and in most cases to
conceal them and even the fact
of their possession. Organized
robbery, torture and murder, would pre-
vail all over the civilized world, were it not
that the banks and safe deposit companies
are veritable fortresses of amassed monies
and the cunning and priceless workman-
ship of the goldsmith and jeweller. It is
because the burglar and robber can no
longer find much more than blank check-
books and plated tableware in the private
store or mansion, that the picturesque
and luxurious bandit or highway robber
is almost as extinct as the dodo.
For many centuries the palaces of
kings and the temples of their gods re-
ceived the greater part of the precious
metals and gems exacted |rom the public
in the way of taxes, dues and offerings,
taken from devastated lands as plunder,
or received from conquered kings as
tribute. As men were more frankly and
honestly appropriators of other people's
property in those days than now, it was
considered "good form" to refrain from a
vain display of accumulated wealth, in
the presence of visiting princes and foreign
ambassadors, it being reasonably certain
that some "great and good friend" would
demand tribute, and if denied, would take
over the whole business.
As a result, concealment of the more
precious forms of portable property became
practically universal and, in many lands,
remaineth unto this day. There are
massive, underground vaults, secret closets,
and simpler hiding-places in hollow trees,
concealed caverns, and the earth itself,
in which many millions of treasure are
being accumulated. Of these hoards,
many are known to but one person, and
death often prevents his knowledge from
being transmitted to his natural heirs.
Among conquered peoples, an undying
hatred of the "dominant race" often en-
sures the successful concealment of great
treasures from generation to generation.
The preservation of gifts made to the gods
from alien desecration, and the hereditary
conservation of family heirlooms and
property, still keeps concealed immense
treasures.
Fifteen centuries before Christ Job
speaks of "princes that had gold, that
filled their houses with silver," and
further refers to the concealed hoards of
former generations, speaking of the "bitter
in soul, who long for death and it
cometh not; and dig for it more than for
hidden treasure . ' ' For in Egypt , many cen-
turies before his day, Menka-Ra, builder
of the third or "Upper Pyramid" had, if
tradition lied not, been entombed with
enormous treasures, whose secret was to
be known only to the "initiated." They
were to hold them sacredly in trust, until
the needs of Egypt demanded their re-
covery and expenditure. This belief out-
lived dynasty and priesthood. The Per-
sian swept across Egypt under Cambyses;
Alexander the world-conqueror, living,
won, and dying, left her to the Ptolemies ;
the Roman eagles swooped upon her, and
the Latian empire held her, until the
Moslem hordes, six centuries after Christ,
wrested her from the Western Empire.
During all these centuries, the belief
that all the Gizeh pyramids were the
receptacles of vast treasure, as well as of
buried kings, became universal. Probably
the Persians attempted to enter them
and failed, but it is certain that Grecian
and Roman explorers entered the Great
(803)
804
LOST AND HIDDEN TREASURE
Pyramid in the remote past. It was,
however, reserved for Al Mamoun, the
son and successor of the Caliph Haroun
Al Raschid, to penetrate to the most im-
portant secrets of the Great Pyramid as
yet discovered.
With levers, sledges, and the feeble
action of acids and fire, the Arabs pene-
trated nearly one hundred feet into that
mass of granite masonry, before the acci-
dental fall of a stone slab told them that
they were close to a great gallery. Break-
ing into this, they found a simple but
almost impregnable barrier — a doorway,
formed by a great groove between granite
frames, in which slabs of immense thick-
ness were piled, one above another to a
great height. When the first, with im-
mense labor, was reduced to fragments,
another fell into its place, and this in turn
was succeeded by another and another.
When, after months of labor, the "King's
Chamber" was reached, a single sarco-.
phagus was found, of which Ibn Abd, Al
Hakim, testified, A.D. 1133, as follows:
"Near the apex was a chamber con-
taining a hollowed stone (coffer) in which
there lay a statue like a man, and within
it a man wearing a great breast-plate of
gold set with jewels. Upon this breast-
plate lay a sword of incalculable value,
and in his tiara was a carbuncle, of the
bigness of an egg, which blazed as with
the light of day. Also upon him were
written, as with a pen, characters which
no man understood."
"Also, they found a square well; and
at the bottom thereof were several doors.
Each door opened into a tomb, in which
were dead bodies wrapped in linen."
Another account relates that they found
a coffer full of emeralds, which Egypt
formerly possessed in great plenty and
excellence; and about a thousand gold
pieces, weighing an ounce each, their
joint value being almost exactly the cost
of excavation.
These pyramids were erected somewhere
between 2,782 and 5,000 years B. C.
They were undoubtedly referred to by
Job, and were plundered of whatever
treasures were formerly placed therein,
but even in modern times small portions
of "mummy-gold" and gilding have been
found. It is by no means improbable that
the removal of rubbish, and methodical
investigation would discover other cham-
bers and passages and perhaps treasures
whose value in dollars and cents would
be of little moment, as compared with
their testimony to the history of the
nations, seventy centuries ago.
The fall of Troy, after a ten-year siege
by the Grecian princes about B. C. 1184,
although seriously recorded by Thucydides,
and accepted by Alexander the Great, as
a great triumph of Grecian enterprise
and military genius, has long been con-
sidered as a rather mythical foundation
for Homer's immortal epic, the "Iliad."
In 1876 the excavations of Schliemann on
the reputed site of Troy brought to light
under the ashes of two superincumbent
fortress-cities the| remains answering to
the descriptions of Homer, and a hidden
vault, containing goblets, bowls, vases,
gems, jewels, armes de luxe, and like articles
in gold, silver and bronze. These treasures
are now generally acknowledged to be
the veritable remnants of the once vast
riches of Priam, which, although depleted
by ten years of costly warfare in the pur-
chase of supplies and mercenaries and
the final sack of the ruined city, were thus
preserved to enrich the museums of
Europe, and greatly increase our realiza-
tion of the wealth and art of that ancient
Ilium, which we have hitherto been dis-
posed to consider a poet's dream.
Two years la'ter Schliemann laid bare
the ancient walls and tombs of Tiryns,
in Argos, and amid those Cyclopean ruins
found many curious and valuable dis-
coveries, but little treasure.
He was more fortunate at Mycenae,
which was, if we may believe tradition,
founded by Perseus, son of Zeus and
Danae, "the fair-haired," and the slayer
of the Gorgon Medusa, "the Beautiful
Horror," whose face, once seen, turned the
beholder to stone. From Perseus and
Andromeda, his wife, was descended that
Agamemnon, king of Argos, who led the
Grecian princes to the siege of Troy, and
after the conquest returned to Argos
with great booty and many captives.
But Clytemnestra, his wife, and Aegistheus,
her murderous paramour, slew him "like
an ox in his stall," at a great banquet,
or, as some say, in his bath, and by the
LOST AND HIDDEN TREASURE
805
hands of Clytemnestra herself. With him
were slain Eurymedon, his charioteer,
Cassandra, a Trojan princess, and many
others. There is reason to believe, how-
ever, that these noble victims and their
faithful associates were placed upon the
funeral pile with their arms and orna-
ments, and later entombed.
For deep in the ruins of Mycenae, Schlie-
mann found the remains of twelve men,
three women, and several children, and
with them a wealth of gold and silver
articles, arms, armor, etc., such as has
never, in modern times, fallen to the lot
of any explorer. Diadems and crowns of
gold, hundreds of plates, buttons, pins,
ornaments, brooches, crosses, leaves, but-
terflies, etc., etc., of the same precious
metal, large and small belts and bracelets,
broad cuirasses and life-sized masks cover-
ing the whole face; cups, vases, bowls and
pitchers, nearly all of virgin gold, lay
beside arrow-heads of obsidian, mighty
swords of bronze, spear-heads and rotting
shafts, engraved gems and brazen coffers
and caldrons. Repousse and intaglio
ornamentation of a high degree of design
and finish made these precious memorials
of a great tragedy another significant
reminder that the world is very old, and
that art flourishes in ages which history
has told of only by the aid of song and
tradition.
Some fear of popular indignation prob-
ably impelled the assassins of Agamemnon
to bury these costly treasures with their
victims, but their superstition would
generally prevent robbery. To plunder
the dead was considered an almost un-
pardonable crime against the gods, and
it was long considered a blot on the
kingly fame of Pyrrhus of Epirus, that,
having taken and pillaged Aegaea, he
left his Galatians behind him to take a vast
treasure from the tombs of the dead.
Odin taught that the dead must be
burned, and that everything that has
been theirs must be carried to the pyre.
Thus Beowulf, the slayer of Grendel, was
dismissed to Valhalla, and Sigurd, the
Dragon-slayer, with Brynhilda, the Valkyr,
whose love and hatred brought him to an
untimely death, were both consumed with
their arms and treasures. A vast amount
of gold and silver, arms and armor, which
have thus "passed threugh the fire," has
been discovered in the Norselands during
the last two centuries, and articles con-
taining several pounds of pure gold each
have been recovered.
About 1850 some workmen in a garden
at Sidon found several copper pots filled
with gold-coins of Philip of Macedon and
his son Alexander, unmixed with any of
a later date. After two thousand years
this hoard, whose owner never lived to
reclaim what he had hidden, enriched the
finders with many thousands of dollars.
In 1877 a tomb at Palastrina, Italy, was
found to contain a vast treasure of golden
jewelry plate, and precious gems.
Somewhere, in the present or ancient
channel of the River Busento, near Cosenza
in the Calabrian peninsula, lies all that is
left of Alaric (the All-Rich), the great
Gothic despoiler of imperial Rome. He
died about 453 A. D., and, encoffined in
three caskets of gold, silver and iron, was
laid to rest with a large part of the spoils
of pillaged Greece and Italy, in the bed
of the river, which the labor of a host of
captives had diverted from its usual
course. Then the river was loosed into
its old channel, the workmen put to death,
that no foeman might profane the sepul-
chre of the great Goth, and the lamenting
conquerors, raising the siege of Cosenza,
left Italy for their new homes in Gaul and
Spain. A recent report announces that
a fortunate peasant has lately found a
part of this, or some equally ancient
treasure.
. What was the value of the spoils of
Alaric? Alexander's plunder of Persia and
India was estimated at $250,000,000.
When Nadir Shah sacked Delhi in 1738,
he secured plunder valued at $30,000,000,
and levied a tribute of $40,000,000 more.
Hezekiah's tribute to Sennacherib, after
he had incautiously revealed his riches
and the glories of the temple, amounted
to $3,000,000 yearly. The Queen of
Sheba presented to King Solomon pure
gold to the value of $3,360,000. The
mariners of King Hiram and Solomon
brought every three years from Tarshish
gold to the value of twelve millions of
dollars, and the amount of gold received
by Solomon yearly, from all sources, is
stated at over eighteen millions of dollars.
800
LOST AND HIDDEN TREASURE
When Shishak or Shishenk, King of
Egypt, plundered Jerusalem, in the vile
days of Rehoboam, scarcely a generation
after the completion of the temple, he
carried away the remnants of a national
religious offering for the uses of the temple,
estimated at forty-six thousand tons of
gold and silver, and valued at four bil-
lion dollars.
Judging from these and other data,
the plunder of so many of the principal
cities of Greece and Italy, and the suc-
ceeding sack of Rome, must have loaded
the war-cars of the Goths with billions
of gold, silver and precious stones. Will
this lost treasure ever be recovered by
those of later ages?
Traditions of great treasures hidden
amid the ruins and catacombs of Rome
have always existed, and in a moderate
way have from time to time been revived
by valuable discoveries. A wild tale of
the tenth century records that Gerbert,
Pope Sylvester II, discovered under the
Campus Martius a subterranean room,
wherein among wondrous treasures, once
offered to the heathen gods, stood golden
statues of a king and queen and all their
court glowing in the ruby light of a great
carbuncle, at which a golden archer aimed
a gem-tipped arrow. That while Gerbert,
knowing that these treasures had been
devoted to the devils who had been the
gods of Rome, was considering by what
spell or exorcism he could secure this
great treasure, his servant, filled with
greed, stole a golden knife, whereupon the
archer loosed his arrow at the carbuncle,
and in an instant they were in utter
darkness, from which issued the shrieks
and fiendish laughter of demons.
This legend may explain some of the
traditions even now implicitly believed
in Mexico, Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador,
Peru, and possibly other countries of the
New World.
Although the conquest of Mexico af-
forded an enormous booty to Cortez and
his followers, it has always been declared
that the larger part of the wealth of the
Aztec emperors and temples was concealed,
and never discovered. Most of the gold
secured in the first occupation of the City
of Mexico was undoubtedly lost in that
terrible night retreat across the broken
causeways, in which Cortez lost half of
his followers and nearly all his booty.
In the Lake of Mexico, the merciless
swords and ill-gotten gold of those lost
Conquistadores lie side by side, and mil-
lions more, hidden in ancient ruins or
deep excavations, were held back from the
greed of the cruel Spaniard, until none of
the Aztec blood and faith who held the
great secret were left among the living.
In Peru, Atahualpa made by a too-in-
dulgent father, ruler of Quito, and by his
own rebellion and the murder of his brother
Huascar, Inca of the whole people, met
swift retribution at the hands of Pizarro
and his fellow-adventurers. Treacherously
attacked by these and made prisoner, he
collected for his ransom gold enough to
fill a room twenty-two feet long by seven-
teen feet wide to a depth of at least four
feet. He sent for more to pile it up to a
line drawn at the greatest height which
he could reach with his finger-tips, but
was cruelly put to death before the rest
of the gold arrived.
It is declared that ten thousand llamas,
each laden with from eighty to one hun-
dred pounds of gold, were on the way to
Caxamarca, where Atahualpa was con-
fined, when the nobles in charge learned
of the torture and death of the Inca.
They could not go on to Caxamarca, nor
return to Cuzco, where Spanish messengers
had been sent to hasten the collection of
this immense ransom. They promptly
drove the caravans into the trackless
wilderness, and slaying the llamas, buried
the gold, or threw it into the ravines and
torrents of the mountains.
At Cuzco there remained a great chain
of gold, made by the Inca, Huayna Capac,
to celebrate the birth of his son, Huascar.
It had three hundred and fifty links, each
of which was two feet long and as thick
as a man's arm. When the last army sent
against the Spaniards was defeated, this
great chain was carried to Lake Urcos,
which lies in a vast hollow, like the crater
of an extinct volcano, on a mountain-
ridge between the valley of Urcos, and the
fertile bolson or basin of Andahuaylillas.
Its waters are darkly yellow and very
deep, and in their safe keeping the great
gold chain of Huayna Capac is believed
to lie unto this day. Once a great canal
LOST AND HIDDEN TREASURE
807
was begun to drain the lake through the
ridge, but the projectors struck the living
rock, and gave up the attempt. An im-
mense amount of other treasure is said
to have been thrown into the same lake.
Lake Guatavita, near Bogota, New
Granada, lies three thousand feet above
the sea, and is much like Lake Urcos in
situation, and also in its reputation as a
receptacle of hidden treasure, thrown away
to defeat the greed of the hated Spaniard.
An attempt to drain this lake secured
some idols and ornaments of gold, but the
cost of completely draining it proved
so great that the project was abandoned.
Other traditions assert that under the
stupendous masonry of the fortress of
Sachsahuaman, and temples and tombs
in other sections of Inca-land, lie the
immense treasures which escaped the
cupidity of the Spaniards.
Over half a century after the coming
of Pizarro, Don Garcia Gutierrez de
Toledo, Viceroy of Peru, made returns in
1577-1578 of massive gold bars, orna-
ments, etc., to the value of $4,450,786,
of which the King of Spain received
$985,583. In the last century, many
huacas (tombs) were discovered and
plundered, the aggregate finds amounting
to many millions of dollars. About 1840,
a hunter's hounds followed a fox into his
den near Cachantiva. In enlarging the
entrance he came upon an arch whereby
a mummy, even in death, seemed to guard
a cavern within, with his bow and levelled
arrow. The cave or tomb held many
other mummies, among which were gold
ornaments, fine emeralds, great rolls of
cotton cloth, still fit for use, and terra
cotta busts, cups, dishes, etc.
In 1834 Don Mateo Garcia, a descend-
ant of the Incas, incited a revolt against
the Spaniards, assuming the Indian name
of Puma-Cagna, "the Tiger of the Moun-
tains.' ' The elders, to whom had descended
the care of the Hidden Treasures, believed
that at last the time had come when the
dead Incas were to be avenged and their
people liberated from Spanish thraldom.
One night, when Puma-Cagna was holding
a council, three old Indians summoned
him to accompany them. He was blind-
folded and taken out of Cuzco, over
rugged ways and through a mountain
torrent into a cavern where the bandages
were removed. Around him stood the
golden statues of the Incas, up to the down-
fall of the dynasty, and among them he
saw an immense quantity of virgin gold
in dust and bars. He was allowed to take
all the gold he wanted, promised more
whenever the insurrection should require
it, and rejoined his council the same
night, dripping with river water, but pro-
vided with ample funds. He was defeated
by General Ramirez in his first battle,
and hung, forthwith, upon the field.
Tacunga, or La Tacunga, fifty-five miles
south of Quito, a little town built of
pumice and thatch 'and often scathed by
earthquakes, lies in a valley of the Cor-
dilleras, and not far away the triple peak
of Llanganati towers six thousand feet
into the summer sky. Here, some two
hundred years ago, one Don Valverde
wedded the daughter of an Indian, and
for some years was privileged to take from
a secret hoard in Mount Llanganati, all
the gold he required. After the death
of his wife, he returned to Spain, and at
his death made a will, bequeathing to
the King of Spain the Inca-treasure, and
a derotero, plan or map, by which a party,
setting out from La Tacunga, could be
sure of finding the same. The gift was
accepted, the corregidors of the neigh-
boring districts commanded to lose no
time in securing this great treasure, and
a number of expeditions were sent out.
Up to a certain point, the maps and di-
rections are strangely accurate and easy
to follow, but near the foot of Llanganati,
the seeker is thus directed: "and thou
shalt see a mountain which is all full of
Margasites (pyrites) the which leave on
the left hand; and I warn thee that thou
must go round it in this manner: N~~^£,
This direction seems impossible..^!/
of fulfilment, as the only route1*
open to the traveler leads to the right
The Padre Longo, a priest, who accom-
panied the first expedition, disappeared
mysteriously one night, when near the
point indicated by Valverde, and was
never seen again. The expedition, after
seeking him in vain, returned, probably
because he carried the only copy of the
Derotero, and nothing was left to guide
it. In 1836, the original, or official copy
808 A SPRING POEM
was stolen from the archives of Tacunga, Among other instances, Sir William Phips,
and the treasures of Llanganati, if such a Boston boy, recovered from a sunken
there be, are 'still awaiting discovery, galleon off the coast of Hispaniola, silver
Perhaps a reader will yet solve this great ingots to the value of one million dollars,
mystery. In 1863 the ship "Royal Charter" went
A multitude of ancient mines ' and down off Anglesea, England, with from
treasures are known only to those Indians five hundred to six hundred passengers
of New Spain who have held as a sacred from Australia and great shipments of
trust their concealment from the Spaniard, gold-dust and bullion. Of this the divers
and their preservation until the day of recovered $1,500,000, and private parties,
freedom and vengeance. The great emerald who paid five thousand dollars for the
mines, lost for four centuries; silver veins, privilege, secured many thousand more,
once worked by the friends of the Indian, The steamship "Golden Gate" lost by
but taken from oppressed and even mur- fire, off Manzanillo, Mexico, in 1862, has
dered owners; gold hidden in caves, been located by the wrecking schooner
mountain lakes, colossal ruins, arid myriads "Louisa D." of San Francisco, and a
of graves, still hold back from the heirs little of the gold, estimated at six hundred
of the Conquistadores the sacred things thousand dollars, brought up, still showing
of tomb and temple and the kingly the effects of the fire. The adventurers
relics of the great Incas. will prosecute their search only in the
Wrecks in many seas conceal and in fall calms, as the wreck lies in the sands
many instances have given up to enter- where there is a very heavy surf most of
prising adventurers great treasures, the year.
A SPRING POEM
AN apple blossom — just awake to life;
** The sun, the wind, two enemies at strife;
The apple-blossom's heart, the prize to be,
For him who gained the early victory.
Then wind, with eager accents, loud and strong,
Approached the blossom with his lover's song.
He tried to break the petals from their hold
So closely on the blossom's heart of gold.
But all in vain — the more he puffed and blew,
The blossom her pink petals closer drew.
Then sun came out so gently and so warm,
The blossom knew that he could bring no harm.
His brightest rays he sent, his warmest kiss,
Which thrilled each petal pink with rosy bliss,
And, blushingly, her petals fell apart,
And to the sun revealed her golden heart.
But wind was not content to loser be,
And he began to laugh in mockery,
Ruthlessly he tore the petals from their stem —
Flung them upon a breeze, and captured them!
But there remained what wind had never won —
The blossom's heart, still golden in the sun?
— Dora M. Hepner.
WILLIAM HOWARD TAFT
President of the United States
THE PRESIDENTS
OF AMERJCA«>
Mitchell Mauncrir$
IE newj world, chiefly dis-
covered and first largely
settled and conquered by
Spain, Portugal and Great
Britain, and for centuries
the source of immense
revenues to the kings of the Iberian Penin-
sula, has become today, with the exception
of Canada, British Honduras and British,
Dutch and French Guiana, a land of
republics.
Including the United States and the
island republics of the West Indies, there
are twenty-one of these, with the largest
of which and its ruler our readers are
or should be sufficiently acquainted, for
all the purposes of this article, which is
intended to remind American readers that
to the southward lies the field of invest-
ment and commercial activity which at
this time should most interest American
corporate and individual enterprise from
every consideration of national pride and
personal profit.
Those of us who found our knowledge
of these republics in the geographies and
encyclopedias of a generation ago, or even
in the travels of men who wrote fifteen or
twenty years ago, can have only a very
imperfect idea of the growth and develop-
ment of the last ten or fifteen years, or
can realize how the completion of the great
Panama Canal, and of railroad systems,
public works and foreign steamship lines
will change existing conditions, and pos-
sibly find us unable to profit as we should
by the immense expenditure devoted to
uniting the Atlantic and Pacific at Panama.
Our competitors in commerce are today
immeasurably better prepared to profit
by the completion of the canal in 1915,
than are we who have dared to attempt
and to carry Out the work.
Not only is this future disappointment
o
probable, but even under existing con-
ditions, we are failing to gain what we
should in financial, transportation and
commercial profit and prestige; and in
some cases are rinding dangerous compet-
itors in the markets of the Old World in
exports which for a generation have been
our pride and chief reliance.
The agricultural and stock-raising de-
velopment of what even now is an in-
considerable part of the unused and
fertile lands of Central and South America,
must within a few decades completely
revolutionize the existing conditions of
living and commerce in both Europe and
America. So, too, the immense effect of
modernizing the many populous cities of
states long content to live under anti-
quated and unsanitary conditions, of
stupendous water-power and irrigation sys-
tems, and the economical mining of thou-
sands of new and old placers and deposits,
with a growth of manufacturing and
milling industries which recalls the "boom"
period of western and northwestern ex-
pansion in our own land, should be thor-
oughly studied by every American who
wishes to find a new field of individual or
corporate enterprise.
It is a curious reflection, not new to
historians, but largely strange to the
average reader, that the empire-building
ambition of Napoleon was the chief
immediate cause of the downfall of Span-
ish rule in the Americas. When in 1807— 10
Joseph Bonaparte was placed by French
bayonets on the Spanish throne the
Spanish viceroys and governors-general
representing the dethroned dynasty had
no longer the legal authority or the power
to govern their respective territories.
There were many harsh and exacting laws,
and acts of corruption and oppression
which had alienated the people from the
(810)
812
THE PRESIDENTS OF AMERICA
rule of church and state, and an immense
number, of Indian and mixed blood, had
only bitter memories and traditions of
Spanish conquest and government, and
the day of revolution and often of ven-
geance had come at last.
It is not the purpose of this article
to detail by what struggles and losses,
victories and reverses, revolutions and
factional controversies, courage and weak-
ness, fidelities and treacheries, patriotism
and venality each state of today struggled
toward the light of civil and religious
freedom, prosperity and peace. There
is only space for a brief review of each of
the republics whose leaders today are
seeking, and for the most part with grati-
fying success, the development of a higher
civilization, and broader prosperity. Gen-
erally, however, it may be said that the
development of the Latin republics during
the last two decades has exceeded in its
proportions and above all in its promise
of future results that of any other section
of the world; and this in spite of
the international panics and financial
crises which have so greatly paralyzed
their neighbors, but seem to have had little
effect on the progress or peace of mind of
the business men and statesmen of Mexico
and Central and South America.
The exports and imports of twenty
republics (not counting the United States)
increased from $910,422,40,0 in 1897, to
$2,144,303,000 in 1909, a gain of 135 per
cent in twelve years, and of these the ex-
ports gained faster than the imports in
the ratio of 132 to 113 per cent. The
nine North Latin-American states (not
counting Panama), increased their busi-
ness from $197,550,313 to $479,582,927,
a gain of $282,032,614, the imports and
exports being nearly equal.
The eleven South American states (in-
cluding Panama, until recently a part of
Colombia), increased their exports and
imports from $712,867,186 in 1897, to
$1,665,102,374 in 1909, a gain of $932,239,-
186, or 133 per cent in twelve years, the
exports gaining 153 and the imports 109
per cent.
The total trade of the twenty republics
for an average of three years (1896-1898),
was $923,784,304, but for the year 1909
had grown to $1,220,900,999, and while
the imports grew on the same basis of
comparison from $416,657,607 to $895,-
679,943, a gain of $479,657,607, the bal-
ance of trade was very heavily in favor of
the republics, showing an increase in ex-
ports from $507,126,697 to $1,249,005,360,
of say $741,878,663.
The net increase of foreign trade of all
the Latin republics (1909 as against 1908)
was over $149,000,000. Their combined
area is in round numbers 9,000,000 square
miles, about thrice that of the United
States. Their aggregate estimated popu-
lation is seventy millions, and a large
proportion of these are still uneducated,
and some even uncivilized races. Yet
during 1909 the exports of the United
States fell off some twenty-five millions of
dollars, in spite of increased exports of
manufactured goods.
T^iese figures may be uninteresting
reading to many, but they show more
eloquently than any "valiant words" how
to the southward of our lowest latitudes
immense areas of fertile soil and resources
hitherto latent or inefficiently developed,
are coming into competition with the
depleted natural wealth of older, or rather
more highly developed countries. The
history of these countries also shows us
that peoples hitherto brave and warlike,
but cramped and confined by misgovern-
ment and antiquated customs and ideas,
are coming into the arena of industrial and
commercial conflict, with a reserve of
physical and mental energy which must
make its mark on the commercial history
of each decade to come.
The Argentine Republic (area, 1,135,000
square miles), comprising most of the terri-
tory formerly governed by the viceroy
of Buenos Aires, was discovered by Don
Juan de Solis in 1615, but after two failures
was permanently colonized in the last half
of the Sixteenth Century. For many years
all foreign trade was shut out, and even
commodities from Peru, via the River
Platte, paid a fifty per cent duty. It was
not until 1776 that free trade with other
Spanish countries and provinces was per-
mitted.
When French bayonets established Jos-
eph Bonaparte on the Spanish throne, the
people of Buenos Aires deposed the vice-
roy Liniers,' who favored the Bonapartist
.§1-3
HO
814
THE PRESIDENTS OF AMERICA
dynasty, and chose Cisneros, who remained
faithful to Ferdinand VII. Cisneros estab-
lished commerce with all foreign nations,
and on May 25, 1810, consented to the
formation of a council termed "The
Provisional Government of the Provinces
of the Rio de la Plata," which event is
still justly considered the first assumption
of the independence of the Argentine
people.
Followed some years of warfare and
factional dissensions, but on July 9, 1816,
separation from Spain was formally de-
creed; Bolivia, Paraguay and Uruguay
became independent states, and the war
of independence was transferred to Chile
and thence to Peru, where on July 9, 1821,
the allied republics of Buenos Aires and
Chile captured Lima, the vice-regal capital,
and on December 9, 1824, ended the
struggle for independence on the field of
Ayacucho, where the Spanish lion banner
went down in utter defeat.
The Spanish crown, however, refused
to recognize the new republics until 1842,
and up to 1874 a succession of revolu-
tionary plots, Indian wars and a five
years' war with Paraguay greatly delayed
development. But a constant stream of
immigration from Italy, France, Spain,
Germany, England and Switzerland, in
the order named, has poured into Argentina
and settled and cultivated vast areas of
the wild pampas, which only a few years
ago were the grazing grounds of half -wild
cattle and the homes of their Guacho
herders. Negro slavery died out with
Spanish domination, and with both went
religious intolerance and the combined
rule of Church and State.
Up to 1880, the chief exports of Argen-
tina had been wool, tallow, sheepskins,
dry and salted hides, "jerked" beef and
live cattle, with small quantities of metals,
ostrich feathers, etc. The harbors were
poor, the agriculturalists content to supply
the home and the local markets, and the
great stock-raisers paid little attention to
the development of better beef and mut-
ton, for which no adequate market existed.
After that date, however, a great change
took place. Shipments of chilled and
frozen beef and mutton, wheat and other
cereals, found a ready market in England,
and_by 1893 these seriously handicapped
American exporters in that market. A
great drought and the ravages of locusts,
or grasshoppers, greatly paralyzed these
interests, and it is only within two or three
years that Argentina has regained her
former prosperity in cereal production. In
1909 out of an estimated world production
of 3,336,788,800 bushels of wheat, the
United States was credited with 692,-
823,600 bushels or one-fifth of the whole,
and Argentina with 159,166,000 bushels.
Large amounts of flax (about 900,000 tons
in 1909), and oats in the central and
southern districts and of cotton and sugar
in northern Argentina have been harvested
in later years. Her foreign trade has
increased from an average of $225,227,324
(1896-98), to a total in 1906 of $700,106,623,
an increase of $476,879,289.
During the month of November last
Argentina shipped to England 219,000
carcasses of mutton, 66,500 of lamb, 112,-
000 of frozen beef and 168,000 of "chilled"
beef, cattle: 637,000 carcasses in all. The
Swift concern of Chicago has established
at La Plata, the capital of the province of
Buenos Aires, one hour's ride from the
city of Buenos Aires, great stock yards
and packing establishments, and has con-
tracted for immense shipments to England,
which is practically lost to the main house
at Chicago. La Plata, founded in 1892,
had in 1909 a population of 92,126, seventy
per cent of whom can read and write, only
ten per cent of the children of school age
being illiterate.
In 1909 Argentina had a population of
6,000,000. The foreign-born inhabitants
of Argentina numbered 1,039,000 Italians,
664,000 Spaniards, 103,000 French, 84,000
Russians, 52,000 Syrians, 40,000 Austrians,
30,000 English, 25,000 Brazilians, 25,000
Germans, 20,000 Swiss, 9,000 Portuguese,
7,000 Hungarians, 6,000 Belgians, and
3,000 North Americans, 2,220,509 in all.
It is almost needless to say that on the
east coast of South America the senti-
ment is decidedly European, and not
especially favorable, although not un-
friendly, to the United States. What the
future may bring when this virile and
resourceful side of the continent becomes
our chief "competitor and comparatively
poorest customer, it is hard to say. Cer-
tainly our own failure to reach out for
816
THE PRESIDENTS OF AMERICA
business, transportation and financial con-
nection in the earlier period of growth will
be hard to overcome in the day of pros-
perity and manufacturing development.
Out of 18,368,000 tons of shipping
arriving at Argentine ports in 1909, only
91,000 flew the Stars and Stripes.
Buenos Aires, the capital (population
1,300,000), is the fourth largest city in
America, Philadelphia being third with
1,455,500 souls, but the growth of the
southern metropolis from 535,000 in 1893
is something phenomenal. With an area of
seventy square miles, possessing magnifi-
cent squares, parks and avenues, palatial
residences and impressive public buildings,
a competent street car service, splendid
schools, and well-maintained street, water,
fire and sewage systems, the story of its
growth and improvement partakes of
the interest of fiction and adventure.
The style, dress and equipages of its
fashionables, its magnificent and effective
street and store illumination, its great
stores and luxurious cafes, restaurants,
hotels and theatres make Buenos Aires,
an obscure South American seaport a
generation ago, only second to Paris as a
center of Latin prestige, taste and enter-
prise.
In 1880 ships had to anchor twelve
miles from the city, but at a cost of over
fifty millions a harbor has been built
capable of accommodating some ten million
tons of shipping annually. Three Italian,
two French, two English, two German, one
Danish and one Spanish steamship lines
connect her with Genoa, Bordeaux, Mar-
seilles, Liverpool, Hamburg, Bremen and
Barcelona. Her docks, said to be the
finest in the world, connect with 20,000
miles of railway. A canal to connect the
Las Palmas and Parana Rivers at a cost
of $47,000,000 will open up inland trans-
portation.
There are 7,619 manufacturing estab-
lishments in the city, including big tan-
neries and currying shops, flour mills and
machine shops and factories. Twenty-
five years ago Argentina imported all her
wheat flour, :now she exports some five
million dollars worth yearly, beside sup-
plying the home market. The meat freez-
ing industry has immense establishments,
employing a capital of $31,000,000.
Rosario and Bahia Blanca are cities
of considerable population, and make
large shipments of wool, amounting in
1909 to over 340,000 bales.
Dr. Roque Saenz Pena, born March
19, 1857, now president of the Argentine
Republic, is descended from an old
Portend (of port of) family of Buenos
Aires.
He completed his university course in
1870 and continued his law studies until
1874, when the Mistre Revolution called
him into the field as a captain of the
Second Regiment of the National Guards,
in which he rose to be lieutenant-colonel.
Made a Doctor of Public Law in 1875,
three years were spent in practice and
politics. He was elected to the Provincial
Assembly, and although only twenty-six
years old became president of the Assembly
in!877, but resigned in April, 1878, because,
having punished a member for breach of
the rules, a majority revoked his decision.
In 1881 he was made First Assistant
Secretary of Foreign Relations, in 1886
Minister to Uruguay, in 1889-90 attended
the first Pan-American Conference at
Washington, and on his return became
Minister of Foreign Affairs.
In December, 1891, he was a candidate
for the presidency with every prospect
of success, when suddenly his father, Sr.
Don Luis Saenz Pena, appeared as the
opposition candidate. The son at once
withdrew from a contest in which his
filial affection and reverence must be
sacrificed, and he also resigned his senator-
ship for like reasons and retired to his
Entre-Rios estates. In 1906 he was sent
as Special Ambassador to represent Argen-
tina at the wedding ceremonies of Alfonso
XIII of Spain, was later made ambassador
at Madrid and afterward at Rome.
With Messrs. Draga and Larreta, Dr.
Pena attended the second Peace Confer-
ence at the Hague, at which he declared
that the measure of national influence
was really based on the volume of its
foreign commerce, in which point of view
he strongly supported Argentina's claim
to the fifth place in mercantile develop-
ment.
A still more significant statement, first
made at the Washington Conference and
repeated at the Hague, is suggestive of
818
THE PRESIDENTS OF AMERICA
the attitude of Argentina toward the
champions of the Monroe Doctrine and
her foreign customers. "We are not lack-
ing," he said, "in affection for America,
but we are lacking in mistrust and in-
gratitude for Europe. This has been and
will continue to be our policy; we say it
with the consciousness of our national
individuality, and with all the feeling of
our sovereignty."
Later Dr. Pena was chosen by the
Venezuelan government arbitrator of its
recent international differences.
President Pena is still dear to his early
friends and associates, whose love and
confidence are not chilled by the respect
he inspires, a willing tribute to integrity
unfailing, frankness and loyalty unchal-
lenged, and innate nobility of soul.
Gentle and yet strong, tranquil alike in
re\ cracs and success, unyielding yet amen-
able to reason, and debonair and joyous
amid society and friends, it is still con-
sidered something notable in Argentina,
and convincing proof of his combined
ability and amiability that with all his
nice sense of honor and personal respon-
sibility he has never found an occasion that
would warrant his fighting a duel.
Over six feet tall, admirably proportioned,
strong and handsome, elegant and irre-
proachable in dress and bearing, the
personality of the President of the Argen-
tine Republic is in rare harmony with his
ability and character.
* * *
Bolivia, subdued by Pizzaro in 1538,
became some forty years later famous for
its immense silver-mining districts of
Sucre, Potosi, La Paz and Cochabamba,
which paid the viceroy of Lima "the
king's fifth" or the greater part of $3,-
500,000,000 in silver in 320 years (1545-
1864), besides producing a not inconsid-
erable amount never reported by the
miners.
Several descendants of the ancient
Incas sought to overthrow their Spanish
conquerors, the last, Tupac-Amaru in 1780,
being the most formidable of all. Thirty
years later at Sucre in May, 1809, and again
later at La Paz, men rose against the
Spanish viceroy, and although unsuc-
cessful were followed by ominous disorders
until August 11, 1825, the provinces of
Potosi, La Paz and Cochabamba declared
themselves the Republic of Potosi.
Under Bolivar the Bolivian constitu-
tion was adopted, and Bolivia became an
independent republic. Between 1866 and
1874 war between Bolivia and Chile
over the great nitrate deposits went on
with varying fortunes, but in the end
Chile secured the coveted prize. A po-
litical revolution in 1898 overthrew Presi-
dent Alonzo, since which time Bolivia has
been at peace.
Bolivia has an area of 700,000 square
miles and a population of from 2,000,000
to 3,000,000, including the Indians of
the eastern slope. There are, it is said,
600,000,000 acres of splendid soil, most
of which is still awaiting settlement and
cultivation.
Bolivia still produces some silver, $3,-
350,000 worth in 1909, and stands only
below the Straits Settlements in the pro-
duction of tin, exporting about one-fifth
of the world's supply of 117,000 tons in
1909, valued at $14,000,000. The Bo-
livian-American Andes Tin Company are
mining 16,000 feet above sea level and
utilize water power generated in the
Andean Glaciers 2,000 feet above. Bo-
livia also produced bismuth ores valued
at $188,578 in 1909, and a quantity of
wolframite, a still rarer mineral.
Some $4,000,000 worth of rubber, a
large quantity of cinchona bark and cer-
tain valuable furs and skins figure among
the yearly exports, but Bolivia is sadly
handicapped by the lack of capital,
railroad transportation and a harbor of
her own on the Pacific coast. The gov-
ernment is taking steps to develop the
territory on the upper waters of the Para-
guay River with its capital and railroad
terminal at Porto Suarez.
President Eliodoro Villazon is a native
of Cochabamba, long noted for her silver
mines, is a lawyer by profession and has a
high reputation as a learned, honest and
efficient statesman. Previous to his elec-
tion to the presidency he served as Minister
of Foreign Affairs, and diplomatic repre-
sentative to England, France and the
Argentine Republic.
* * *
Brazil, having an area of 3,218,139
square miles, is a republic made up of
R
DR. ROQUE SAENZ PENA
President of Argentina
820
THE PRESIDENTS OP AMERICA
twenty states, under a constitution adopted
February 24, 1891. The present popu-
lation numbers about 20,000,000.
First discovered by the Spanish pilot,
Vicente Yanez Pinzon, in 1500, the first
settlement was made by the Portuguese
at Sao Vicente the following year.
Bahia, founded in 1559, remained the
capital until 1763. The Huguenots oc-
cupied the Bay of Rio Janeiro in 1559, but
were expelled and Rio Janeiro founded in
1567. Spain held the country as a de-
pendency of Portugal from 1580 to 1640,
and the Dutch while at war with Spain
took and held Pernambuco, Olinda and
considerable territory until 1654.
Gold was discovered in 1691 and $600,-
000,000 in bullion are said to have been
exported from 1691 to 1820. The dia-
mond mines, opened in 1710, added in
something under two centuries $100,-
000,000 to the jewels of the world.
When in 1807 Napoleon invaded Portu-
gal the reigning family took refuge in
Brazil. In 1821 King John VI returned
to his throne, leaving his eldest son Dom
Pedro as regent. He declared Brazil
independent September 7, 1822, and was
crowned emperor of Brazil October 12.
The new empire was promptly recognized
by Portugal, but Dom Pedro abdicated
the throne in 1831.
Followed regencies and political in-
trigues until Dom Pedro II, crowned em-
peror when only fifteen years of age, suc-
ceeded his father. An amiable, patriotic
and humane monarch, he met but few
insurrections and only two wars, one with
Rosas, the Dictator of Buenos Aires, in
1852, and the other with the Paraguayans
1865-1870. In 1871 he provided for the
gradual abolition of slavery, but a general
discontent arose with the form of govern-
ment, which could no longer be maintained
in the New World. Under Marshal Deo-
doro da Fonseca, a bloodless revolution
ended in the proclamation of the Republic
of Brazil, Dom Pedro and his family were
ordered to leave the country, and the
emperor returned to Europe, refusing to
receive the imperial dowry and a subsidy
of $2,500,000 offered him by the republic.
The two principal productions of Brazil
are rubber, of which she supplies about
84,000,000 pounds of the 130,000,000 pro-
duced annually, valued in 1909 at $92,000,-
000, and her "Rio" and "Santos" coffees,
which were estimated at $162,000,000. The
district of Santos alone is said to have
shipped to the United States $50,888,410
worth of coffee, receiving in return a
little less than $4,000,000 worth of Ameri-
can commodities. About $2,500,000 worth
of gold, diamonds invoiced at $700,000,
manganese, cacao, tobacco and minor
articles make up the list.
A considerable influx of Spaniards,
Italians, Portuguese, Turks and Russians
(something over 38,000 at Santos in 1910),
is beginning to settle the agricultural
lands not devoted to coffee, and the
province of the Rio Grande do Sul is
making progress as a stock-raising coun-
try, and marketed some 33,000,000 pounds
of lard last year.
Brazil trades most largely with Great
Britain, forty-eight millions in 1909;
twenty-eight millions with Germany;
twenty-two millions with the United
States and about eighteen millions each
with France and the Argentine Republic.
Probably United States dealers could sell
much more largely by personal visits and
adopting the same ways of doing business
as the European houses.
Brazil has always taken a great interest
in her navy, and has contracted for an
ironclad, the "Rio Janeiro," of 32,000 tons,
6,000 tons larger than the British dread-
naught "Lion," to cost $14,500,000, draw
twenty-eight feet and mount twelve four-
teen-inch guns in her main battery.
Dr. Hermes da Fonseca, president of
Brazil, inaugurated November 15, 1910,
a nephew of the first president of the
republic, Marshal Manuelo Deodoro da
Fonseca, is about sixty years old, of medium
height and military bearing. A military
engineer by profession, he has been chiefly
active in the field of politics, having
served as representative and later as
secretary of war in the cabinet of Presi-
dent Alfonso Ponna from November 15,
1906, to May -27, 1909, when he resigned to
become a candidate for the presidency.
* * *
Chile or Chili, supposed to be derived
from the Quichua adjective Chiri, "Cold,"
has a coast line of 2,700 miles, but averages
only about 140 miles, ranging from 240
ELIODORO VILLAZON MIGUEL R. DAVILA
President of Bolivia President of Honduras
J. VICENTE GOMEZ
President of Venezuela
RAMON CACERES D. CLAUDIO WILLIMAN
President of the President of Uruguay
Dominican Republic
FERNANDO FIGUEROA ANTOINE F. C. SIMON
Ex-President of Salvador President of Haiti
822
THE PRESIDENTS OF AMERICA
to only sixty-eight miles in width. Her
area, including certain territory acquired
from Argentina, and the greater part of
Terra del Fuego, now known as the Terri-
tory of Magellan, aggregates 290,895
square miles and includes twenty-three
states.
It was the home of the tameless Arau-
canians, who drove back the conquistador
Almagro in 1535, and prevented Valdivia,
who founded Santiago in 1541, Concepcion
in 1550 and Valdivia in 1553, from con-
trolling any considerable territory be-
yond the range of his artillery.
For two centuries and a half they kept
the outlying settlements constantly at war,
until in 1793 a final treaty of peace was
ratified.
Accounted one of the principal "govern-
ments" under the Lima vice-royalty, its
governor-general was forced to resign
when the throne of Spain was usurped by
Joseph Bonaparte, and the formation
of the provisional government September
18, 1810, is still celebrated as the anni-
versary of Chilian independence. Fol-
lowed a series of contests with the Spanish
forces, and between contending partisans,
during which the Viceroy Don Osara held
southern Chile for some two years and a
half, but San Martin and his Guachos
defeated him at Chacabuco and drove
the Spaniards into Peru and Bolivia. In
1818 O'Higgins proclaimed the inde-
pendence of Chile, but Spain did not
recognize her until 1844. O'Higgins was
dictator until the constitution was adopted
in 1823, which, as revised and amended, is
still in force, gradually growing more
democratic, although a high property
qualification has always been maintained.
Froml843 to 1855, the Argentine boundary
threatened serious complications, but was
amicably settled. Spain in 1864-65 man-
aged to embroil Peru and Chile in a war,
mainly naval, which dragged along until
1869,. when the American minister suc-
ceeded in inducing them to refrain from
further active operations. Spain finally
consented to a definite treaty of peace in
1879> but the conflicting claims to the
invaluable nitrate deposits in the north of
Chile brought on hostilities with Peru,
who finally in 1893 conceded the greater
part to Chile forever.
In 1891 President Balmaceda found
himself at war with the opposition in
Congress who took possession of the
nitrate deposits, secured arms and muni-
tions and captured Valparaiso and Santiago.
After the death of Balmaceda Don Jorge
Montt became president, and the republic
has been at peace, and has made great
progress in every line of development.
The government has now in force contracts
with English constructors amounting to
$50,000,000. The custom receipts steadily
increase, aggregating $41,559,076 for the
eleven months ending November 30, 1910,
against $36,483,688 for the like period
in 1909.
Chile is not an agricultural country,
and has twenty-four cities of over 10,000
inhabitants and an aggregate of 924,041
out of a population of 3,240,279. Punta
Arenas, the most southern city in the
world, in the formerly desolate Straits of
Magellan has 12,000 inhabitants, with
good wharves, stores, paved streets, and
an extensive trade. It is a free port, a
coaling station, a Chilian naval depot,
and a port of call for every vessel passing
through the Straits. The Territory of
Magellan, once only occupied by the
'iPatagonian Giants" and the "Terra del
Fuegian dwarfs," and later a Chilian penal
colony, has now over 20,000 inhabitants,
and in 1909 shipped from Punta Arenas
21,100,244 pounds of wool of the Chilian
export of 27,745,080 pounds. Terra del
Fuego had then clipped 7,221,634 pounds
from 1,146,503 sheep.
But Chile is chiefly a mining country
at present, $87,000,000 of $1.10,000,000
exported in 1909 being the product of
the mines, including nitrates, which, be-
ginning with a shipment of 100 tons in
1831, increased to 1,836,000 tons in 1910,
most of which was shipped from Tarapaca
and Antofagasta. Besides nitrates, copper,
iodine, borax, salt, silver, gold, sulphur
and sulphuric acid figure to a great extent
in the exports.
There were in 1907 4,758 industrial
establishments, employing over 75,000
operatives, and a gold capital of $287,-
209,523. Education is not neglected, the
appropriations for 1911 amounting to
$6,606,953. There are 250 publications
in the republic, the oldest being the El
824
THE PRESIDENTS OF AMERICA
Mercurio of Valparaiso, now in its eighty-
fourth year.
The greatest drawbacks to Chilian
prosperity are a lack of good harbors, for
with few exceptions goods and passengers
must be landed in open roadsteads from
boats and lighters. The other is the
want of coal which at present does not
seem likely to be met by a home sup-
ply, although discoveries are reported
both in Chile proper and the Straits of
Magellan.
With most of the peoples of the West
Coast, there is a strong tendency to seek
the friendship of the United States, but
so far the business methods and our own
lack of sea-going steamship lines have
given the great bulk of Chilian imports to
Europe. Thus the imports of Chile for
1909 show British goods $31,842,776;
Germany $22,436,641; United States $9,-
601,084; Argentina $6,617,054, and France
$5,663,495.
* * *
Colombia, named in honor of Columbus,
has an area variously estimated at from
463,000 to 513,000 square miles. It has
been a republic ever since 1820, under a
constitution revised and amended seven
times since 1821. Its president is elected
for a term of six years, its capital is Bogota,
and its population is estimated at 4,000,000
souls.
Known as the Province of New Granada
until 1719, when it was made a Vice-
royalty, it revolted in 1810 and became
independent in 1819, joining with Vene-
zuela and Ecuador in 1822 to form the
Republic of Colombia, which dissolved
into its component provinces in 1830.
Its history from the beginning has been
rich in exciting episodes, and many mil-
lions of treasure have been shipped to
Spain in the galleons, which found shelter
under the guns of the fortress city of
Cartagena, but the lack of permanent
settlement and development, and the
frequent wars and partisanships of the
past throw upon the patriotic statesmen
of today a heavy burden of judicious
enterprise and consideration. Its mineral
resources are undoubtedly great, including
gold and silver, which is exported to the
value of some $4,000,000 annually. Iron,
copper, platinum, lead, salt and the
emeralds of the noted Santander mine, are
all to be reckoned with as valuable, but
as yet undeveloped sources of wealth.
Coffee to the amount of 440,000 bags was
exported to the United States in 1909, and
a considerable quantity to Europe, Ba-
nanas, cocoanuts and pines are now ex-
ported in large numbers, with cocoa,
tobacco and sugar, rubber, hides, skins
and tanning and medicinal simples.
Its president, Senor Don Carlos E.
Restrepo, was born in 1868 at ancient
Medellin, in the Province of Antioquia,
and inherited from his father, Senor Pedro
D. Restrepo, the oratorical gifts and love
of literature, philosophy and legal research
that have brought him into honorable
prominence. At the time of his election
to the presidency, he had just returned
home from serving as president of the
National House of Representatives, in-
tending to take up his legal practice and
literary pursuits. But on July 10, 1810,
he was elected president for the term of
four years. His strong, handsome and
intelligent face is smoothly shaven, except
for a well-kept and slightly curved mous-
tache, his hair is wavy rather than curly,
and his large dark eyes, long-lashed and
deeply set under well-curved eyebrows,
befit the poet and orator as well as the
discerning and purposeful statesman.
* * *
Costa Rica, "the rich coast," most
southern of Central American states, ex-
cepting Panama, has an area of 21,500
square miles, and is exclusively an agri-
cultural state. Its capital is San Jose,
and it has two harbors, Punta Arenas on
the Pacific, and Port Limon on the Gulf
of Mexico. Its population is about 500,-
000 and increases but slowly by immigra-
tion. The state imposes a tax of $2.50 in
gold on each first cabin passenger and
$1.50 in gold on all others arriving in the
republic.
The chief product of Costa Rica is
bananas, of which 4,300,000 bunches were
exported in 1909. A large quantity of
fine grade coffee is also exported.
Costa Rica was a part of the Mexican
Empire under Iturbide in 1823, but was
declared independent in 1848.
The government is seeking to open up
the "Plains of Santa Clara," which, as
;
826
THE PRESIDENTS OF AMERICA
grazing and agricultural lands, offer many
inducements to an enterprising settler.
President D. Ricardo Jimenez Orea-
mundo is not only very popular in Costa
Rica, but one of her most intelligent, ad-
vanced and personally notable citizens.
While his integrity has always been hon-
ored, he has in all other respects been held
in high esteem both in Costa Rica and in
every other country which he has visited.
Born in the city of Cartago in 1858, he
is a representative of one of the most dis-
tinguished families of Spanish-America,
being a lineal descendant of the famous
Spanish conquistador and explorer, Juan
Vasquez de Coronado.
His father was for two terms president;
a bronze statue was erected by popular
subscription in recognition of his civic
virtues as the first chief magistrate of
Costa Rica. Dr. Jimenez distinguished
himself at college, had a high reputation
as a writer and jurist, and is considered one
of the most effective parliamentary ora-
tors in the republic.
He was one of five lawyers chosen to
codify the laws of Costa Rica, was Minister
Plenipotentiary at Washington and Mexico
and at home filled acceptably the positions
of president of the Legal College, president
of the Supreme Court of Justice, deputy
and president in Congress, Secretary of
State and the department of public and
rural education, and has finally been
elected president of the republic by a
majority unprecedented in its history.
When inaugurated on the eighth of May
last, he found Costa Rica sorely depressed
by the earthquake, which destroyed the
city of Cartago, but it was felt and not
without reason that the new chief execu-
tive, animated by his enduring spirit of
progress, honor and love of country, and
his inspiring force, initiative and fore-
sight will give both peace and progress to
the republic.
* * *
Cuba, the largest island republic in the
world, is 780 miles long, having an area of
35,964 square miles, and a great variety
of soil, climate and natural resources. Its
northeastern coast is quite temperate com-
pared with other sections, but frost is
unknown and a great development of
citrus fruit culture is assured. Bananas,
pineapples, cocoanuts and all tropical fruits
are grown in their appropriate* districts.
Its exports may be roughly averaged at
sugar, $71,000,000; tobacco, $20,000; fruit,
$2,300,000; hides, $1,000,000 and manu-
factures, $13,000,000.
Some 500,000 tons of iron are now being
mined annually, and manganese, copper,
gold, silver and coal deposits have been
worked to some extent.
Known as "The Ever Faithful Isle,"
because it continued loyal to Spain during
the Bonapartist regime, 1807-1811, it was
governed nevertheless by a governor-
general, who in and since 1825 was em-
powered to rule "as if Cuba was in a state
of siege." As a result, between Spanish
legislation and official greed and tyranny,
Cuba was for many years deprived of the
growth, prosperity and happiness which
her resources should have secured for her
people.
In 1898 the Spanish- American War
began, which brought to an end a civil
contest which had raged for some years,
and made Cuba a republic. Since that
event the development of agriculture,
manufactures, railroad and water trans-
portation, popular education and munic-
ipal improvement and sanitation has been
rapid and gratifying.
The resources for 1911-1912 are esti-
mated at $34,024,582.32, and the estimate
of expenditure was $2,255,097.68 less.
An appropriation of $1,000,000 for the
construction of a palace for the president,
and contracts for an eighteen-knot cruiser,
sixteen-knot schoolship and two small
gunboats are the novel features of the
year's expenditure.
The first president, elected to serve four
years, was Estrada Palma, chosen in De-
cember, 1901. The present incumbent,
Senor General Jose Miguel Gomez, served
with distinction in the revolution which
only ended with the independence of
Cuba.
* * *
The Dominican Republic, formerly part
of Hispariiola, an island colony of Spain,
holds the eastern moiety of the island
formerly known as St. Dominique by the
French, and Santa Domingo by the Span-
iards, until it became independent in 1844.
Its chief exports are sugar, coffee, cocoa,
828
THE PRESIDENTS OF AMERICA
cigars, tobacco, wool, precious woods and
dyestuffs, with some cattle, hides, etc., of
the aggregate value of about $8,000,000
per annum.
Essentially an agricultural country, and
a small one, it is handicapped in the race
for rapid growth, but is making constant
progress.
Dominica has given many enthusi-
astic and brave soldiers to the Cuban
cause, notably General Maximo Gomez
and General Jose Maceo and his devoted
brothers. The president, elected for four
years, is Senor General Ramon Caceres.
* * *
Ecuador ("Equator") lying immediately
under the line south of Colombia, has an
area of 110,000 square miles, including
the desert Galapagos Islands. Its ex-
ports in 1909 consisted principally of
cacao, $7,261,000; ivory nuts, $1,991,000;
Panama hats, $1,158,173; with rubber,
coffee, hides and fruits to smaller amounts.
The production of cacao exceeds that of
any other state, reaching 75,000,000
pounds in the Guayaquil district alone.
The Spanish government was ousted
in 1822, and a constitution adopted in
1830. The state religion remained Roman
Catholic, but other religions were toler-
ated. A city loan of $3,000,000 has been
authorized by the government to improve
the city of Guayaquil, and a government
loan of $2,600,000 to intersect the city
with canals. A government bureau has
also been established to give information
regarding the city and its resources.
The president holds office for four
years. The present incumbent is Senor
General Eloy Alfaro.
* * *
Guatemala, the largest of the six Central
American republics, has an area of 48,300
square miles.
It was governed by a captain-general
appointed by the viceroy of New Spain,
until it became independent in 1825.
Its exports in 1909 included coffee to the
value of $5,697,183, and bananas, sugar,
hides, rubber, precious woods and chicle,
making an aggregate of $6,638,819. Its cof-
fee output is second only to that of Brazil.
Guatemala, the capital, has 73,000 in-
habitants and is said to be the most
brilliantly lighted city in America.
Senor Don Manuel Estrada Cabrera,
president of Guatemala, was born Novem-
ber 21, 1857, at Quezaltenango, Guatemala,
and was re-elected president for the term
of six years from March 15, 1911. He
was admitted to the bar in 1883, appointed
to the Court of First Instance in 1886,
was transferred to his native town as
Judge of the Appellate Court, and subse-
quently made Minister of Public Affairs.
Elected president of Guatemala in 1898,
he has continued to hold the office until
the present time.
During his regime a transcontinental
railroad has been built from Puerto Barrios
to San Jose, and the construction of the
Guatemalan section of the Pan-American
Railway inaugurated. Public education in
English has been made obligatory in all the
schools. Rubber cultivation is encouraged
by the government grants of 112 acres for
every 20,000 rubber trees planted.
* * *
Haiti ("High Land") occupying the
western half of ancient Hispaniola, or San
Domingo, has with some small islets an
area of 10,000 to 11,000 square miles and
a population of about 1,700,000 souls.
Emancipated by Toussaint L'Ouverture in
1783, but re-enslaved by the French in
1802, General Jean Jacques Dessalines
destroyed or captured their armies, and
was emperor of Haiti from 1803 to 1806.
In 1825 England acknowledged her in-
dependence, and in 1843 President Boyer
became president of the entire island,
under the name of the Republic of Haiti.
The exports of 1909 consisted chiefly of
coffee, sugar, indigo, cocoa and other
agricultural products, $8,500,000; logwood,
cedar, mahogany and other forest pro-
ducts, $1,000,000, and live stock, hides,
etc., $150,000.
Railroads are being built to open up
the country, and several mines of copper,
iron and coal are awaiting their completion
to begin operations.
The presidential term is seven years.
The present chief executive is Senor
General Antoine F. C. Simon.
* * *
The largest of the North American Latin
republics, Mexico, has an area of 767,000
square miles, and a population estimated
at 14,000,000.
MARSHAL HERMES DA FONSECA
President of Brazil
830
THE PRESIDENTS OF AMERICA
A Spanish viceroyalty from the time
of Cortez until the Nineteenth Century the
Spanish interest was still strong when
Hidalgo y Costilla of Dolores, the priest
of Guanajuato, raised the standard of
revolt September 16, 1810. Successful
for a time, he was captured and shot at
Chihuahua, July 30, 1814. Mcrelos, who
took up the cause, was defeated and exe-
cuted in 1815, by Iturbide, who in his
turn deserted the viceroy and established
himself as emperor in 1822, but the re-
public asserted itself on October 14, 1824.
Senor General Porfirio Diaz, president
Besides the precious metals, deposits
of copper, iron, lead, tin, sulphur, onyx,
opals and other valuable minerals are
found in many parts of the country.
In 1909 the Mexican exports ascribed
$71,136,143 to products of the mine, in-
cluding gold, $20,000,000; silver, $37,000,-
000, and copper, $10,000,000. Besides
these, rubber (castilloa) and "guayule" to
the value of $8,346,000 mark the begin-
ning of returns for the immense capital
that has been invested in rubber plan-
tations and the extraction of rubber from
the guayule shrub of the elevated plains.
^hoto by American Photo Company, from the book" Cuba" by Irene A. Wright, copyright
1910 by The Macmillan Company
LA FUERZA ON THE PLAZA DE ARMAS, REPUBLIC OF CUBA
The oldest habitable building in the western hemisphere which stood guard over the
% city before Cabanas or Morro or Panto were ever thought of
of Mexico 1877-1880 and since 1884 to
the present time, is too well known to the
American people to require any biograph-
ical notice here.
He succeeded to the control of a country
rich in varied resources, but whose in-
terests had been largely sacrificed to the
production of silver and gold, which, from
the Veta Madre lode of Guanajuato
alone, had taken out $250,000,000 in
silver between 1556 and 1883. Between
1493 and 1895 the Mexican mints had
turned out $3,398,664,206 in silver coin,
one-third of the coinage of the whole
world, and between 1874 and 1896 Mexico
exported silver money and bullion to the
amount of $683,476,979.
Over 10,000,000 trees on. the great La
Zacualpa plantations in Chiapas, and vast
numbers more in other states, are be-
ginning to show satisfactory profits.
The vanilla output of Mexico (about
140 tons), is the largest in the world ex-
cept that of Tahiti, and coffee, heniquen,
sugar, fruit, cattle, wool, etc., swell the
immense returns of Mexican industry,
which in 1909-1910 resulted in exports cf
$260,000,000, and imports of $145,000,000,
a total trade showing of $456,000,000.
But every city in the republic, every
harbor of any note, every modern im-
provement that is necessary to increased
efficiency has had due consideration, and
neither time nor money is spared to make
832
|THE PRESIDENTS OF AMERICA
Mexico a land of honored and efficient
labor. The splendid artificial harbors
of Vera Cruz, Coatzacoalcos and Salina
Cruz, the great transcontinental railroad of
Tehuantepec with its fleets of tributary
freighters, and the stupendous irrigation
and drainage projects to reclaim millions
of desolate acres at a cost of $300,000,000,
with scores of minor but not less beneficent
enterprises in the interests of sanitation,
water and sewage, construction, public
education, etc., have made a new Mexico
within the public service of one man.
* * *
Nicaragua, lying between Costa Rica
and Honduras, has an area of 49,000
square miles, and a population of a little
over half a million. It revolted against
Spain in 1821, and except for the brief
period of the Iturbide "empire" has been
an independent republic ever since.
Its gold output aggregates 20,000 to
70,000 ounces annually, and tin, nickel,
antimony and arsenic are also mined.
Some 30,000,000 pounds of mild coffees,
and an increasing trade in bananas, with
cacao, cattle, hides and minor articles,
make up the export list. Managua on
the Pacific coast is its capital and chief
seaport. The Menier cocoa plantation of
187,500 acres is the largest in the world.
Its president, elected for four years, is
General Juan J. Estrada.
* * *
Panama, famous in story and song,
declared itself an independent republic
November 4, 1903, and was recognized
by the United States on November 13.
By a treaty between the two countries,
ratified November 18, 1903, the canal
zone, within which it was necessary that
the Panama Canal should be carried, was
transferred to the United States for
$10,000,000 in gold and a yearly subsidy of
$250,000.
The Panama Government is taking
measures to encourage the cultivation of
sugar to conserve its taqua (ivory nuts),
forests and to encourage the importation
of stock for breeding purposes.
The president, chosen for four years and
inaugurated October 1, 1910, is Dr.
Pablo Arosemena. Born at Panama in
1836, of middle height, with dark eyes and
an olive complexion, he retains his
vitality and good looks, and is considered
a gentleman of pleasing and commanding
presence, and an eloquent and graceful
orator. Educated at Bogota in Colombia,
he took up the profession of the law,
practicing in Panama.
* * *
Salvador, the smallest of the Central
American republics, has an area of 7,225
square miles, and a population estimated
at 1,200,000. Its capital is San Salvador.
Its exports are chiefly coffee, of which the
exports last returned aggregated $4,500,-
000, wine to the value of $1,100,000,
indigo, sugar, hides, balsam of tolu and
some minor articles. Gold, silver, copper
and lead are mined. The state religion is
Roman Catholic, but all faiths are toler-
ated.
The imports from the United States for
three months in 1910 amounted to $326,-
078.74, the chief items being fancy
articles, flour, shoes, drugs and medicines
and hardware; these five amounted to
$227,731.74.
The president is Dr. Manuel Enrique
Araujo. He serves for four years from
the date of his inauguration.
* * *
Paraguay, long as exclusive as ancient
Japan, has an area of 98,000 square miles,
lying between Brazil on the southeast and
north, and Argentina on the west. Nom-
inally governed by the viceroy of Peru,
the Jesuit fathers practically ruled the
country from 1607 to 1768, controlling,
it is said, 400,000 natives in connection
with their missions. In 1811 the Spanish
governor resigned office, and was suc-
ceeded by Jose Gaspar Francia, who made
himself dictator, and attempted a policy
of strict isolation, as did his successors,
ending with Francisco Solano Lopez, who,
after a terrible struggle with Brazil,
Argentina and Uruguay, in which a very
large proportion of the fighting men were
extirpated, fell at Aquidaban in 1870, to
be succeeded by a more liberal government
and policy.
The exports of Paraguay are small and
principally confined to live stock and the
produce of the forests. When the rail
and water transportation plans now being
carried out are completed, a large increase
may be expected.
.a- a
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82
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834
THE PRESIDENTS OF AMERICA
President Senor Manuel Gondra, in-
augurated November 25, 1910, is com-
paratively a young man, born January 1,
1872. Educated at the National College,
and for some time one of its faculty, he
is naturally scholarly, but has been deeply
devoted to the study of the various sys-
tems of political administration and has
written extensively on this subject. Hand-
some, neatly dressed, with large, black
eyes and a wealth of hair flung back from
his full, high forehead, he wears both
beard and moustache, and makes a good
impression in society or on the platform.
As Minister to Brazil, representative to
the Third Pan-American Conference and
Minister on Foreign "Relations, his services
and the esteem in which he was held
abroad secured for him his early elevation
to the presidency. The capital is Asuncion.
Senor Gondra resigned from the presi-
dency soon after his inauguration and
Colonel Albino Jara assumed that office
on January 16.
* * *
Uruguay, the smallest of the South
American republics, has an area of 72,157
square miles and a population of some-
thing over a million. Joining Argentina
in the revolt of 1810, she drove out the
Spanish sympathizers in 1814, but the
Brazilians captured and held Montevideo
until peace was finally declared in 1828,
and the "Republica Oriental de Uruguay"
duly established. In 1864 ended a long
series of wars and partisan hostilities,
but committed Uruguay to an alliance with
Brazil and Argentina against Paraguay.
The exports of Uruguay were repre-
sented in 1909-1910 chiefly by the pro-
ducts of her cattle and other live stock,
which contributed $44,763,000 against
$2,000,000 from farm and field, and
$8,000,000 from the forests. New con-
tracts are being made almost monthly for
additional transportation for the "chilled"
and "frozen" beef trade with England and
other European countries. The Liebig
Extract Company, whose concentrated
meat juices and preparations are known
all over the world, owns 3,750,000 acres —
one-tenth of the whole country — and have,
killed 375,000 head in a single year's oper-
ations. The Germans are making ar-
rangements for a great production of beet-
sugar, and the Uruguayan cities are a
revelation to the tourists. La Victoria's
electric lighting is said to excel any other
city in the world.
The term of the president, Senor Don
Claudio Williman, expired March 1, 1911.
* * *
Venezuela, signifying "Little Venice,"
with an area of $593,943 square miles, was
formerly a part of the government of
Colombia under the Spanish regime and
so remained until on April 19, 1810, the
local council of Caracas deposed the
Spanish governor and selected a junta to
rule during the Bonapartist regime in
Spain. In 1829 Venezuela seceded from
Colombia and became a separate republic.
The population is estimated at 1,345,000.
The gold mines of Venezuela between
1871 and 1890 attracted a good deal of
attention, a single group, the El Callao
in the Yaruari District, having produced
$25,000,000 during that period. It is esti-
mated that of 6,000 square miles of geld
territory, only about 1,000 have been
prospected, and these in an imperfect
way, from the village of El Callao, which
is from 150 to 180 miles from rail or water
transportation.
Lack of transportation, the high cost of
labor and unsettled political conditions in
the past interrupted development, and
prevented capitalists from introducing the
effective machinery and methods of up-to-
date mining.
Copper was exported to the value of
$6,054,000 in 1909-1910, and new de-
posits, some carrying gold and silver,
promise great returns. Asphalt and pe-
troleum abound, iron and salt are also
mined locally. The celebrated Las Mar-
garitas, pearl islands, which produced
immense revenues in the early days, still
contribute about $100,000 worth yearly
to the known production.
Maracaibo is the principal center of
trade, but La Guayra, Puerte Cabello and
Ciudad Bolivar are all ports of importance.
Coffee, cacao, hides and cattle, copper,
rubber, balata, asphalt, salt and other
products are exported to a large amount.
The state recognizes the Catholic re-
ligion, but all others are tolerated. A grc at
banana trade is projected and European cap-
italists*seem[about*to enter the mining field.
836
THE PRESIDENTS OF AMERICA
The president is elected for four years.
Senor General J. Vicente Gomez, inaug-
urated June 3, 1910, was born at San
Antonio del Tachira, in the Venezuelan
Andes, some fifty years ago. Tall and
strong, a wealthy agriculturist and stock-
raiser, he has since 1902 been very active
in the political and military operations
which were necessitated by the despotic
regime of his predecessor, President Cipri-
ano Castro. He has never married, and
for a number of years has devoted himself
to military service and political life.
He has re-established peaceful relations
with foreign nations, and normal condi-
tions of liberty and business at home, and
will doubtless do much more in developing
prosperity and enterprise in Venezuela.
* * *
Peru, a Spanish mispronunciation of Biru,
the name of an Jndian chief, has a coast
line averaging 1,100 miles, affording six
good harbors a£?e[ many open roadsteads.
Its area, owing to unsettled claims by Ecua-
dor, Bolivia and Chili, is variously esti-
mated at from 440,000 to 700,000 square
miles. Its coastal territory, from twenty
to 120 miles wide, is a desert except where
rivers and artificial irrigation fertilize
farmsteads and large plantations. A belt
of Andean ranges some 250 miles wide pre-
sents amid its formidable ranges elevated
plains and fertile ravines and valleys. The
eastern hinterland slopes gradually into the
valleys of the Amazon and its tributaries,
and is heavily forested and rich in rubber,
cinchona and valuable woods.
The great aqueducts and highways,
which once supported a much larger popu-
lation, have been almost utterly neglected,
although some of the aqueducts have ap-
parently been broken or deprived of water
by natural causes. The chief object of
Spanish rule in Peru was to draw from
the mines that royal one-fifth of their
product which for from 250 to 300 years
poured a flood of gold and silver into the
Spanish treasury. The records show that
between 1630 and 1849 the Cerro de Pasco
district alone produced $475,000,000,
chiefly in silver, and this in spite of miser-
able transportation, mining and reduction
methods, which at every stage resulted
in an enormous sacrifice of human and
animal life.
Today the population is estimated at
between 4,500,000 to 5,000,000, a people
well disposed toward the United States,
and purchasing a larger proportion of Ameri-
can goods than any other South" American
nation. A large number of American
investors are engaged in business and
mining, and most of the managers and
skilled employes are Americans.
Lima, the capital, has always been re-
markable as the capital of Spanish vice-
regal power and splendor, for the beauty
of its women and its terrible losses from
earthquakes. It has still the beautiful
Limenitas, and the liability to suffer
from seismic convulsions, but is now the
capital of the republic.
Conquered, massacred and plundered
by Pizarro 1531-1541, and the Spanish
vice-royalty and hierarchy for nearly three
centuries more, the natives of Peru, like
most of its European inhabitants, had
little courage or ability to initiate a re-
volt when in 1810 the Buenos Airean
provinces were aflame with revolution,
and the successes of the Spaniards in
Chili and Bolivia left a well-appointed
force of 23,000 men in the field when De
la Pezuela surrendered his vice-regal
authority to Abascal, his successor.
In August, 1820, General San Martin
and his Chilians captured Lima and pro-
claimed independence July 28, 1821, and
General Bolivar, succeeding San Martin,
was made dictator February 10, 1824, and
on December 9 utterly defeated the Vice-
roy de Lerma at Cuzco.
Peru produces gold, silver, copper, tin,
lead, salt and iron, and contains deposits
of nitrates and large areas of petroleum
and asphalt territory. A single copper
mine produced 5,000,000 pounds of high-
grade ore in November, 1910, and the
company expects to double this output
from an inexhaustible lode, which also
yields gold and silver. There are six
steamships burning Peruvian petroleum,
and the oil districts are steadily increasing
their output and profits. The Southern
Railway will extend its line from Callao
to Cerro de Pasco on the Ucayali River,
about 200 miles, traversing mountain
ranges rich in minerals and will tap the
immense rubber and cinchona forests of
Eastern Peru, most of whose rubber goes
838
THE PRESIDENTS OF AMERICA
THE CAPITOL IN SAN SALVADOR, REPUBLIC OF SALVADOR
The capitol is called also the National Palace, and is one of the most attractive of public buildings in America.
Salvador has but one chamber in the legislative body, which has spacious accommodations here. Besides this
arrangement, there has been reserved abundant space for other government departments and officials. Construc-
tion was begun in 1905, and the offices were to a great extent occupied in 1910
down the Amazon, and pays an export
duty to Brazil. About 2,000,000 pounds
were exported in 1909-1910, and it is said
that the yield has greatly increased.
Sugar, cotton, cereals, etc., sufficient
for the people and some for export, with
stock and sheep-raising, are the agri-
cultural features of Peruvian industry.
Senor Augusto B. Legufa, president of
Peru, is a manly gentleman of wiry and
medium proportions, Spanish descent,
liberal education and affable, generous
character. A leading business man, he
was called to the cabinet of his predecessor
as Minister of Finance. He is a family
man and a great lover of horses.
* * *
Honduras, with an area of 46,000 square
miles, embraces much fertile territory as
well as mineral districts. A^republic ever
since 1821, its people ha\% been relatively
free from partisan warfare.
Its minerals include gold, silver, copper,
zinc and lead, and recent explorations
locate a gold-bearing placer thirty-five
miles long by twenty-five miles wide in
the Taro and Espiritu Santo Ranges, di-
viding Honduras from Guatemala. A
few natives are the only diggers, but the
gravel panned out sixty cents to $1.10 per
cubic yard, and quartz samples indicated
$40 to $60 to the ton. The iron mountain
of Agalteca is said to show 100,000,000
tons of magnetic iron ore in sight, and if
verified an American company will expend
$15,000,000 in a railway and mining
operations.
The population in 1905 was 600,000.
The president, elected for four years, is
Senor General Miguel R. Davila.
II
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By WILLIAM McGRATH
To MY FRIENDS ; G. R. HOGGAN AND J. S. JONES
In memory of a pleasant voyage
The shore lights gleam resistance
To every twinkling star;
The breakers in the distance
Are booming, faint and far;
Through running gear and rigging
The gentle trade winds blow;
I on her course am guiding
My yacht— "Pahoe Hou."
The night clouds wrap Nuuhiva,
The young moon drifting slow
Takes back her silvery glory
From rippling waves below;
To dalliance I give over —
Though in fancy, as you know —
And clasp my one true sweetheart,
My love— "Pahoe Hou."
You curse her wild caprices.
How can you understand
Who know not what her face is
And never held her hand?
You may have heard the rustling
Of sails the wind has stirred,
Yet missed the whispered greeting
My listening heart has heard.
For some have traveled over
The wild sea at her side,
Yet claimed her not as lover,
Nor thought of her as bride;
And some have followed after
Through sun and rain for years,
Yet guessed not sunshine laughter
Nor thought the raindrops tears.
And if her motion's bitter
To some poor, seasick swain —
Are all things gold that glitter?
What pleasure but hath pain?
And since among love's blisses,
Love's penalties must live,
Shall we not take her kisses,
And taking them, forgive.
The winds of dawn are roving
My sweetheart is astir;
What heart were lorn of loving,
That had no love but her?
Till last red stars are lighted
And last winds wander west,
Her troth and mine are plighted,
The sea craft I love best.
^Nobility
Trades
DOCTORS AND SURGEONS
By Charles Winslow Hall
VER fifteen centuries before
the coming of the Christ, an
Egyptian king wrote or at
least assumed the author-
ship of a papyrus "book"
whose subject was the heal-
ing art as understood by
those fortunate enough to be versed in
such matters in his reign in the ancient
land of Khem.
Three great cities, Heliopolis, Memphis
and Thebes, each erected on the western
bank of the Nile, in the "City of the Dead,"
immense temples whose priests were not
only the servants of the gods, but the
teachers and healers of men. At Thebes
in that magnificent temple, "The House
of Seti," founded by Rameses I and later
enlarged and enriched by Amasis, were
sheltered eight hundred priests graded
into five classes, and commanded by five
"prophets," the chief of whom was high
priest, and ruler of the thousands of inferior
priests, embalmers, tradesmen and at-
tendants who lived by the service of the
temple and the insistent care and reverence
which the dead Egyptian exacted from
the living. A host of pupils whose parents
paid nothing more for years of tuition
than a nominal sum for lodging and the
cost or means of subsistence, learned to
be first priests, and secondly astronomers,
mathematicians, surgeons, doctors, ocu-
lists, etc., etc. None were allowed to
practice all branches of the healing art,
and all were under strict discipline and
rigid system. The patient or his friends
applied at the temple for a physician, de-
scribing the patient's condition and chief
symptoms to the chief of the medical staff,
who detailed some available specialist to
treat the patient. So strictly was this
specialization followed that one Neben-
chari, an oculist, sent to the Persian court
to restore perfect sight to one of the royal
family, utterly refused to attempt to cure
the queen-mother, when suffering from
some not uncommon disease. While the
patient was thus favored with the most
skillful service, the physician could re-
ceive no fee or reward, except in the form
of some gift to the temple.
While relying much upon vows anxl in-
vocations, the Egyptian practitioners had
a considerable knowledge of vegetable
medicines and poisons, the latter including
strychnine, prussic acid derived from
peach kernels, elaterium, white and black
hellebore, spices, balsams, ointments, per-
fumes, etc., etc. The god Toth is said
to be the same as the Grecian Asclepios,
and the Roman Aesculapius, and Isis and
Osiris were also healing deities.
The utter abhorrence with which any-
thing like dissection was viewed in Egypt
prevented the acquisition of extensive
anatomical knowledge, and generally the
examination of mummies has shown a very
(841)
842
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
imperfect method of setting dislocated and
broken bones, etc.
But however skillful the Egyptian
hierarchy may have become in the com-
pounding and exhibition of medicines,
etc., the religious nature of their practice
was never lost sight of, and as the ages
passed it deteriorated from faith into
bigotry, bigotry into superstition and
superstition into demonology and witch-
craft.
Rather later in the world's history,
according to Grecian mythology, Apollo,
the beautiful but relentless Sun-god, slew
IAPYX BINDING THE WOUNDS OF ENEAS
with his unerring arrow his beloved
Coronis, even as her maternal pangs drew
nigh at hand, because he beh'eved her in
IOVQ with a rival. Too late he repented,
and saving his innocent babe named him
Asclepios, or, as we who follow the Latin
usage call him, Aesculapius.
Some say that the god instructed his
son in the healing art, but according to
others he committed him to the fostering
care of Cheiron, the grand old Centaur,
who had his home amid the gorges and
foothills of Mount Pelion. Here, sheltered
by huge caverns, and living for the most
part a free and untrammelled out-of-door
life and training, the heroes of Hellenic
mythology were brought together and
made strong, wise and daring beyond
ordinary mortals. Hercules, the powerful;
Achilles, the irresistible in battle; Jason,
the captain of the Argo and successful
seeker of the Golden Fleece; Castor and
Pollux, the deathless "Twin Brethren
to whom the Romans pray" — these and
many other youths beautiful, manly and
famous throughout the ages, learned all
the simple arts and accomplishments of
that Age of Gold, and among other things
the powers for good and evil that lay dis-
guised in the trees, shrubs, plants and
vines of surrounding territory. Among
these Asclepios ranked first in his knowl-
edge of healing, and men said that his
skill in manhood brought the very dead
to life, and so diminished the endless
caravan of reluctant shades that unceas-
ingly enters the dread realms of Dis,
that the sombre king of Hades complained
to Zeus that a mortal had set aside the
laws of life and death, and ignored the
final decrees of the Fatal Three. So Zeus,
seeking out the offender, killed Asclepios
with his thunderbolts, and Apollo, unable
to attack his all-powerful sire, slew with
his arrows the Cyclops, who under Heph-
aistos had forged the bolts that ended his
son's life.
But Machaon and Podalirius, the sons
of Asclepios, and his daughters, Hygeia,
Panaceia and laso, had been taught his
arts, and for twenty generations or more
the Asclepiades were honored throughout
Greece as the last hope of sick and
wounded men. To their great ancestor
were erected in many parts of Hellas, but
notably at Epidaurus, Athens and Cos
the Isle of Healing, temples of the Ritual
of Asclepios, which in their day were
wonders of architecture, beauty and
luxury, as well as hospitals which even
today would attract the admiration and
patronage of thousands of health-seekers.
That at Epidaurus was an immense and
beautiful marble temple, rich in splendid
statues and votive tablets and works of
art, abounding in fountains, altars, pic-
tures and costly hangings, and adapted
in every way to cheer and encourage the
sick and heavy-hearted, who might find
healing but could not die within its sanctu-
ary. For here, curiously enough, no babe
might be born nor dying patient close
fading eyes upon the cheery cloisters,
sacred to healing only; and the only cruel
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
843
feature of the cult of Asclepios was the
removal of doomed patients beyond the
beautiful precincts of his temples.
First among his later disciples stood
Hippocrates, styled through the ages the
"Father of Medicine." Born on the Isle
of Cos about 470 B. C., and living over
ninety years, he was the contemporary
of Pericles, Socrates, Zenophon, Plato,
Herodotus, Thucydides, Phidias, and
many other illustrious men. Himself
a descendant of Asclepios, he studied
medicine under Gorgias and
Democritus and also under
that Herodicus who first
taught that systematic ex-
ercise was a cure for many
ailments. He was long es-
tablished at the Asclepion of
Cos, where, as at most other
temples of Aesculapius, there
were medicinal springs, and
a system of bathing, purga-
tion, diet and exercise made
impressive and solemn by
music and religious ceremon-
ies. At some, perhaps at all
of these temples, a species
of large, non- venomous yel-
low serpent was kept in
honor of the god, and be-
came so tame that it would
caress and even lick the
wounds and sores of some
of the patients — a manifes-
tation of the favor of the
god which was deemed a
sure prognosis of recovery.
When cured a patient was expected to put
up a votive tablet describing the disease
and cure, and these tablets became med-
ical annals and text -books for succeeding
generations.
Hippocrates seems to have been a
rather clear-headed and practical observer
and theorist. He declared that there were
no "sacred diseases"; i. e., sent by the
gods, although at that time all insane
persons were considered as the victims of
divine wrath. Also that there were two
great classes of ailments: one due to
seasonal, climatic and water conditions;
the other to indigestion or errors of diet,
lack or excess of exercise, etc. It is thought
that he may have dissected bodies, not-
AESCULAPIUS
From the Louvre collection
withstanding the universal horror and
execration which this would excite if
known. He taught that as there are four
elements, earth, air, fire and water, so
there were four fluids or humors in the
human system; viz., blood, phlegm, yellow
bile and black bile. That disease was due
to the quantity and distribution of these
humors; as that inflammation was due
to the passing of blood into parts not
previously containing it. His chief reliance
was on regimen and diet, although he
sometimes gave very power-
ful medicines. "Life" he said,
"is short and art long, op-
portunity fleeting, experience
fallacious and judgment dif-
ficult. The physician must
not only do his own duty,
but must make the patient,
his attendants and all exter-
nals co-operate." He is said
to have candidly confessed
his mistakes, to have been
utterly free from supersti-
tion, and noted for his purity
and nobility of character.
The oath of Hippocrates, long
the pattern of a physician's
obligation, ran as follows:
"I swear by Apollo, the
physician, and Asclepios,
and I call Hygeia and Pana-
ceia and all the gods to
witness, that to the best
of my power and judgment
the solemn vow which I
now make I will honor as
my father the master who taught me the
art of medicine; his children I will con-
sider as my brothers, and teach them my
profession without fee or reward. I will
admit to my lectures and discourses my
own sons, my master's sons, and those
pupils who have taken the medical oath;
but no one else. I will prescribe such
medicines as may be the best suited to
the eases of my patients, according to the
best of my knowledge; and no temptation
shall ever induce me to administer poison.
I will religiously maintain the purity of
my character and the honor of my art.
Into whatever house I enter, I will enter
it with the sole view of relieving the sick
and conduct myself with propriety toward
844
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
all the members of the family. If during
my attendance I hear anything that
should not be revealed, I will keep it a
profound secret. If I observe this oath,
may I have success in this life, and may
I obtain general esteem after it; if I break
it may the contrary be my lot."
This oath exacted by the great medical
sage of Cos twenty-five centuries ago, has
been down to the present time practically
the code of every honorable professor of
OUTLINE RESTORATION
of SOME OF THE
PRINCIPAL BUILDINGS
HIEROhKPIDAURUS
AN AESCULAPIA^If SANITARUM AT EPIDAURUS
A, Propylea (great ceremonial entrance). B, gymnasium and music
hall, 250 feet square. C, Doric temple of Asklepios, 400 B.C. D,
the abaton or great sleeping colonnade. E, Tholos, possibly shrine
of sacred serpents. F, temple of Artemis or Diana. G, sacred grove.
H , altar. /, great altar for unused sacrifices. J, southern boundary
of sacred precincts. K, square building, use unknown, contained
altar, votive tablets, etc. L, supposed to have contained baths, li-
brary, etc. M, large building, possibly one of two gymnasiums.
N, building of four quadrangles, each 180 feet square and surrounded
by rooms opening on the centre of the quadrangle. Supposed to have
been a large hotel or dormitory outside the precincts. O, small build-
ing. P, hot and cold baths. Q, colonnade of Cotys. R, colonnade.
S, quadrangular structure with columns. T, supposed temple of
Aphrodite or Venus. U, Ionic temple, possibly northern Propylea
or portal. W, northern boundary wall. X, stadium six hundred
feet long, seating capacity twelve thousand to sixteen thousand.
the healing art; and of many who in other
matters are by no means- so scrupulous
as they are to maintain unimpaired the
traditions and honor of the profession.
Claudius Galenus, celebrated through-
out the ages as Galen, was born early in
the Second Century, at Pergamos on the
western coast of Asia Minor, and studied
at Alexandria, making a special study of
anatomy, in praise of which he said: "In
my view there is nothing in the body use-
less or inactive, but all parts are arranged
so as to perform their offices together
and have been endowed by the Creator
with specific powers."
A most enterprising investigator, and
the first great experimental physiologist,
he first dissected animals, and later men,
accumulating a mass of practical knowl-
edge which in the dark ages was not even
retained, although described in his writings
and since his era re-discovered. Prior to
his discoveries, the lungs were believed to
collect a vital gas or air which passed
through the pulmonary veins into the
left ventricle and was thence distributed
by the arteries through the sys-
tem. Galen did not believe in
occult remedies, but was artifi-
cial in his system of practice,
which was to determine by
inspection and imagination
whether the disease proceeded
from too much cold or heat,
moisture or dryness. He di-
rected his followers, having
thus diagnosed the disease, to
select a remedy which had been
catalogued as producing the
opposite effect — a policy which
has certainly been largely fol-
lowed down to the present
day.
It should be said here that
there is much reason to believe
that India ages ago produced
in what is called the Yagur-
Veda an immense treatise, con-
sisting, it is said, of one hun-
dred sections of one thousand
stanzas each, later cut down
by order of the pitying and
considerate deities to a neat
little library set of six volumes,
treatises on anatomy, anti-
dotes, diagnosis, local diseases, surgery and
therapeutics. Even in this happily con-
densed form, the original work survives
principally in the fragments quoted in
later commentators, but enough remains
to show that the ancient sages of Indian
medicine had the same lofty standard
of professional honor and responsibility,
a fair knowledge of anatomy, and con-
siderable skill in the use of drugs, which
latter were derived not only from the
vegetable and animal but quite largely
from the mineral kingdoms. Indeed it
is strongly intimated that the Arabi-in
sages drew their knowledge of the prepara-
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
845
tion of mineral and metallic salts and
alkalies, from the Hindus; and especially
their skill in the chemical analysis of iron,
mercury, arsenic and antimony.
The great Indian teachers were Charaka
and Susruta; and they held the same
humoral theory of disease as Hippocrates,
except that there were but three humors:
air, bile and phlegm. At times they
prescribed not only gold and silver, but
even pearls and diamonds ; and
in surgery they attained skill
through practice on dead ani-
mals and inanimate models.
They had practised tapping
for the dropsy, lithotomy, or
the operation for the stone, and
plastic surgery for the replace-
ment of severed portions of the
human anatomy, long before
the Christian era.
A primitive form of operat-
ive and mechanical dentistry
seems to have been practised,
and ' many of these arts were
probably acquired of the Hin-
dus by the Arabians through
their ancient and long -con-
tinued commerce and caravan
trade with the East.
Appealing to the selfish
instincts of humanity, the uni-
versal longing for the Elixir
of Life, and the Philosopher's
Stone which should transmute
base metal into gold, the Ara-
bian alchemy grew and bur-
geoned, while the benevolent
Hindu originator of chemical
lore was forgotten.
It would seem that, under
the Christian dispensation, the
"gift of healing" became as generally relied
upon as by the followers of Mary Baker
Eddy today; rest, regimen, diet, the laying
on of hands and vows, prayers and invoca-
tions were the chief reliance of the church
dignitaries who healed the sick, cast out
devils, and doubtless did the best they
knew how for suffering humanity.
Such was the practice at the great and
famous Benedictine convents at Salernum
and Monte Casino in the Sixth Century,
where the care of the sick was enjoined
as a work of piety. In the Ninth Century
Abbe Berthier of Monte Casino and others
wrote books on healing, for these con-
vents had then attained a continental
reputation as schools to which students
and patients flocked from all parts of
Europe. The lover of Longfellow will be
reminded of his reference to Salernum in
his beautiful "Golden Legend." By the
Eleventh Century they had secured por-
tions of the works of Galen and of the
ABATON OR OPEN-AIR SLEEPING ROOM OF THE SHRINE
OF AESCULAPIUS AT EPIDAURUS. PATIENT SARIFICING.
SACRED SERPENT LICKS HIS WOUNDS, A GOOD OMEN
Greek and Arabian medical and scientific
works, and the use of natural remedies
began to supplant purely sacerdotal
"Christian Science." By the Twelfth
Century the physicians of Salernum had
become so famous that Prince Robert,
son of William the Conqueror, disembarked
there on his return voyage from the Holy
Land to be cured of a grievous wound
received in battle against the Saracen.
The Jews of that day probably led the
world in medical science founded on their
possession of copies of the works of ancient
846
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
sages which they had studiously pre-
served. Patronized by kings and princes,
they were nevertheless persecuted by
popes and prelates, and excommunication
was threatened to any who should employ
them in spite of the interdict of the church.
Finally Benedict IX and Urban II, in the
Eleventh Century, forbade all clerical
healers from practicing outside their
monasteries, and these regulations being
generally disregarded, it was decreed that
prelates, archbishops and the superior
clergy generally should refrain altogether
from the practice of medicine. On the
HIPPOCRATES, B.C. 460
contrary, the lower clergy, at that time
very largely both ignorant and vicious,
were allowed to practise all branches of
the healing art excepting only surgical
operations and especially the use of the
actual cautery and the knife; these danger-
ous offices were sapiently left to the lay
brethren, the servants of the community;
and hence it came to pass that the barbers
and farriers of England were for some
centuries the chief practising surgeons,
dentists, etc. Thus from the Twelfth to
the Sixteenth Centuries all external wounds
and ailments were forbidden ground to
the educated physician, who had exclusive
jurisdiction as priest and healer of all
internal ailments. Henry VIII, who,
despite his too strenuous policies and
practice in the matters of marriage and
divorce, did at times seek to legislate for
the good of his people, enacted in 1511
"that no person in the city of London
or within seven miles thereof should
practice as a physician or surgeon unless
he be first approved and admitted by the
Bishop of London, or ... Dean of St.
Paul's for the time being, calling to him. . .
four doctors of Physic and for surgery;
other expert persons in that faculty."
But this law, while prosecuting the
quacks and pretenders, against whom it
was aimed, shut out many skilled and
charitable people who, when they, at-
tempted to aid the poor and dependent,
abandoned by the regular practitioners
to suffering and death, were punished under
this law. As a consequence in 1542,
another statute of Henry VIII provided
that every person "having a knowledge
... of the nature of herbs, roots and
waters, or of the operation of the same
. . . may use and administer to any out-
ward sore, uncome (ulcerous swelling)
wound, apostemations (imposthumes) out-
ward swelling or disease, any herb or
herbs, ointments, baths, pultess and com-
plaisters ... or drinks for the stone,
strangury or agues" without being liable
to prosecution under the former statute.
The character and influence of Dr.
Linacre, the favorite of Cardinal Wolsey,
had already in 1518 secured the incorpora-
tion of a College of Physicians to whom
was committed the sole privilege of ad-
mitting persons to practice within the
London Circuit. He was its first presi-
dent, and held its meetings at his own
house, which at his death, seven years
later, he bequeathed to the College.
Dr. William Bulleyn of the same family
as the unfortunate Anna Boleyn, was a
contemporary of Sydney, Raleigh, Drake,
Hawkins, Grenville, Spencer, and the
rest of that famous galaxy that illuminated
the Elizabethan era. The leading physi-
cian of his day, he took great interest in
vegetable remedies and his "Book of
Simples" was an honored authority for
generations. He recommends the free use of
sage tea; and of figs, saying: "Figges be
good against melancholy and the falling
evil (epilepsy) to be eaten. Figges, nuts
and herbe grasse do make a sufficient
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
847
medicine against poison or the pestilence.
Figges make a good gargarism to cleanse
the throat."
Sir Theodore Mayerne, as the favorite
physician of Henry IV and Louis XIII
of France, and James I, Charles I and
Charles II of England, was the most
eminent doctor of the Seventeenth Cen-
tury. He certainly was strenuous in his
prescriptions, advocating an excess in
eating and wine-drinking once a month
as a grateful stimulant; violent drugs in
the gout, calomel in scruple doses and a
free use of sugar of lead in his conserves.
He leaned strongly to the alchemical and
cabalistical doctrines of his
era; advised the use of amu-
lets and charms; prescribed
"the raspings of a human
scull unburied" in his "Gout
Powder," and sought to
cure hypochondriacal pa-
tients by a cheer-inspiring
unguent compounded of
adders, bats, earth-worms,
sucking whelps, hog's lard,
the marrow of a stag and
the thighbone of an ox. His
"Receipts and Experiments
in Cookery" had a great
vogue among English house-
wives. In March, 1654, his
last indulgence in wine
made him sick, which he
attributed to the badness
of the wine. He predicted
the time of his own death and verified his
prognosis with creditable exactitude.
Sir Kenelm Digby, a contemporary
with James I, Charles I, Lord Bacon and
other illustrious Englishmen, was cast
into prison by order of the Parliament in
1643 at the beginning of the English Civil
War, but was released at the solicitation
of the Queen Dowager of France. His
beautiful wife, the Lady Venetia, was fed
on capons fattened with the flesh of vipers,
then supposed to be most invigorating
food.
His "Sympathetic Powder," which was
merely a carefully refined and calcined
sulphate of iron, was used by him dissolved
in water to bathe the weapon or a bandage
that had drawn blood from the wound
itself, keeping the wound wet with clean
GALEN, A. D. 131-201
cool water, which treatment was the very
reverse of the surgical practice of his day.
Undoubtedly most of the wounds which
were thus cured got well because they
were not tortured by the usual methods
of treatment. A curious correspondence
on this wonderful discovery took place
between the Doctor and Governor John
Winthrop of Connecticut Colony.
Dr. Radcliffe, physician to William III
and Queen Anne, lost his place at the
court of King William in 1699, when the
king, having failed to follow the prudent
regimen prescribed for him, had become
very emaciated and run down. Showing
his swollen ankles, he ex-
claimed: "Doctor, what
think you of these?" "Why,
truly," said he, "I would not
have your Majesty's two legs
for your three kingdoms."
Dr. William Harvey, who
in 1628 declared and finally
established the true theory
of the circulation of the
blood, was one of the physi-
cians who attended Charles
II in his last illness, and
suffered much from profes-
sional jealousy and detrac-
tion before (after twenty-
five years of effort) he saw
it generally accepted as the
basis of modern physiolo-
gy. Among other notable
events of his practice, he
dissected "Old Parr" by the command of
Charles I. Thomas Parr, born in Shrop-
shire in 1582, was first married at the age
of eighty-eight; did penance for incon-
tinency when 102; married a second time
when 120; threshed corn and did other
laborious farm work when 130; and lived
during most of his life on coarse brown
bread, cheese and whey. Brought to
London by the Earl of Arundel, he fed on
a more generous diet, drank wine and took
life easily, but soon died, November 14,
1635, aged 153 years. The cause of death
was apparently pneumonia.
English medicine was strongly tinctured
with the varying beliefs of the several
nations which had by turns conquered a
territory, settled down as peaceful resi-
dents, and been gradually swallowed up
848
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
in what we now call "the English people."
The Norsemen inherited from their Odinic
ancestors a great faith in the Runic spells,
carven for the most part on wood or bark
and placed on or near the person of the
sick or wounded man. It was very im-
portant that no mistake should be made,
for the wrong runes could weaken or slay,
as well as the proper characters could
strengthen and save alive.
Thus sang the Scald to the ambitious
healer:
"Twig-runes shalt thou ken
If thou a leech wilt be,
And ken a sore to see.
On bark shalt thou them write
And on branch of wood indite
Whose limbs to east shall lout."
At an early date their descendants, like
the rest of their neighbors, the Scots,
Picts, Anglo-Saxons and Celts of Wales
and Ireland, betook themselves to that
study and use of vegetable simples which
until the Sixteenth Century were almost
wholly unmingled with any mineral in-
gredients. Hippocrates is said to have
had knowledge of 265 remedies. Galen
had greatly increased the number by adopt-
ing animal ingredients, and new drugs
were added as commerce extended the
radius of trade and the scope of travel
and adventure. The natural magic of the
Finns, the leechcraft gathered by viking
and Varangian from all the snores of
Europe and the Mediterranean, Africa and
Asia, the bartered lore of
learned pilgrims meeting at
Rome from every known
corner of the globe, the un-
holy but fascinating teach-
ings of accursed Jew and
infidel Arabian, dark galdra
of heathen Saxon, and rem-
nants of Druidic wort-
cunning, blended in a phar-
macopeia, which is still very
respectably represented in
the dispensatories and fam-
ily practice of today.
It was not until near the
close of the Fifteenth Cen-
tury that the bars were
let down to receive a herd
of mineral specifics, among
them antimony, which one
Basil Valentine had seen
exhibited with good effect
STATUE OF ANTONIUS MUSA
Physician to the Roman Emperor
Augustus
to certain hogs which had then put on flesh
and activity in a surprising way. Hogs had
long been dissected at Salernum as "likest
the human form divine," and Basil had
certain monks among, his patients, whose
condition of health was apparently the
same as those which antimony had cured
in the case of the hogs. He accordingly
prescribed a smart dose of antimony,
which, to his horror, killed his patients,
despite all efforts to retrieve his fatal
error; wherefore, he gave the deadly
mineral the name of Anti-moine or "Anti-
monk" as a warning to the profession that
what may fatten and benefit a pig may
be dangerous to a priest, or any other man.
Surgery made slow progress during
the first fifteen centuries of our era, largely
owing to the fact that dissection was .still
under the ban of public opinion and
statute law; and practitioners were
often obliged to adopt peculiar measures
to refresh and increase their exact knowl-
edge of anatomy. Thus, when Henri II
of France was wounded in tournament
by the lance of Montgomerie, which
pierced his eye through the bars of his
helmet, four criminals were decapitated and
their eyes pierced as nearly as might be in
the same way to ascertain if the wound
was surely mortal or might be healed.
When Felix, the chief surgeon of Louis
XIV, was about to operate upon him for
the stone, he operated upon
several less distinguished
patients, at the house of
Fagon, the king's physician;
most of whom died. He
was more fortunate with
the king, who of course
knew nothing of the unfor-
tunates, who were buried at
night and secretly, but the
nerve of the surgeon was
gone, and in bleeding a
friend the next day he
crippled him for life, and
never recovered his former
ability.
Felipe de Urtre, a Span-
ish Conquestador, wounded
by a lance-thrust in Vene-
zuela, had no surgeon with
his party, but an ingenious
comrade, procuring "an old
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
849
Indian" presumably of small value, en-
dued him with de Urtre's coat of mail,
seated him in the war-saddle of his destrier,
and thrust the lance into the Indian's
side at the same aperture, and as nearly
as possible at the same angle as it had
entered the body of the Spanish cavalier.
Then slaying the Indian, he opened the
body and traced the path of the lance-
head, and finding that no important organ
was wounded, treated the injury simply
and saved de Urtre's life.
The surgery of a not remote past was
radically different from the practice of
today, and fell little short of actual torture
of the patient. Burning the severed veins
with hot irons to stop bleeding, opening
gaping wounds wider to promote long-
continued suppuration, inserting tents
and compresses between the gaping lips
of wounds to prevent healing by first
intention, filling gunshot wounds with
boiling oil, etc., to counteract the supposed
poisonous character of missiles propelled
by gunpowder; with a host of salves, oint-
ments, and similar medicaments, it was
not until late in the Nineteenth Century
that military surgery became the soothing,
beneficent, almost painless charity of today.
Ambrose Pare*, the chief surgeon of
Henri IV of France, by the happy
accident of exhausting his stock of boiling
oil, stumbled on the discovery that those
not thus treated got well quicker, and
suffered much less, than those duly
cauterized "according to the highest style
of the art," and he greatly simplified and
lessened the cumbrous cruelties of his
day in other respects. But the changes
were slowly accepted, as may appear from
the following bill of worthy Humphrey
Bradstreet, who attended Captain Stephen
Greenleaf of Newbury, who was shot
while rescuing certain persons captured by
Indians and carried across the Merrimac.
In the yeare 1695.
To Captain Greenleaf.
Visits, Balsams, Emplaistors, Tinctures,
Unguents, Sear-cloth, Dressings. From the
8th of October to last of January unto the
parfecting of the cure of a large gunshot
wound in the side and wrist. Major and
minor fractures, nerves and tendons lacerated;
also a large wound under his side with a
laceration of the muscle. For the cure to me;
12; 06; 00.
HUMPHREY BRADSTREET, Chirurgeon.
The naval and military surgical es-
tablishments of the last six centuries in
Europe were for the greater part of the
time not only insufficient in quantity,
but poorly supplied, and miserably paid
and supported. Henry V, when he led
thirty thousand men into France, had but
one field surgeon, Nicolas Colnet, who was
paid forty marks a year, with a share of the
PARACELSUS, 1493-1541
Philosopher, physician and alchemist
plunder to the amount of twenty pounds
more. Any excess over this was to pay
a royalty of one-third to the king, and
Colnet had to hire a guard of three archers.
His successor, Sir Thomas Morstede, who
was present at the 'great battle of Agin-
court; was paid thirty-six pounds, had
twelve assistants and a guard of three
archers, paid by the king.
Under Queen. Elizabeth, a host of
ignorant persons were admitted to practice
in the army and navy, receiving the same
pay and allowances as the sergeant-
drummer and fifer; viz., "five shillings
weekly with an allowance of two shillings
a week for clothing."
It was not until 1752 or later, that Dr.
John Lloyd, surgeon at Castle William,
Boston Harbor, introduced into America
the newly discovered plan of tying severed
arteries instead of cauterizing them.
Silver and iron wire, white silk, and later
silk-worm gut or other sterilized animal
ligatures were used, and today the buried
animal ligature which gradually dissolves
850
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
and is absorbed is considered the best
ligature.
Smallpox, which appeared ages ago
in Hindostan, and has ever since com-
mitted fearful ravages in all parts of the
world, was first accurately described by
Rhazes, an Arabian physician in the Tenth
Century, and in the Sixteenth had not
only swept over the Old World but had been
WILLIAM HARVEY, A. D. 1578-1657
Discoverer of the circulation of the blood, 1615
carried by the Spaniards to America, and
destroyed millions of the aborigines.
In England it averaged three thousand
victims out of every million inhabitants
yearly in the last decade of the Eighteenth
Century, and in France thirty thousand
per annum. Russia lost two million
victims in a single year, and in Berlin one-
tenth of all deaths was due to this loath-
some pestilence. In some countries one-
third of all the babies died of smallpox
during their first year, and one-half before
the fifth. The only preventive was
inoculation with the virus, and this
claimed a certain percentage of victims,
and often conveyed the disease to unpro-
tected friends. Dr. Edward Jenner in
1775 began the investigations and ex-
periments which in 1798 gave to the
world the priceless protection of vaccina-
tion, which about 1800 was introduced
into America by a Doctor Waterhouse of
Boston, and in Europe by De Carro of
Vienna. It rapidly spread over Europe,
and Spain in 1803 sent an expedition to
introduce this great safeguard into all
her colonies. Protestant pastors in Geneva
and Holland praised God in their pulpits
and exhorted their hearers to lose no time
in securing this new blessing; and in Sicily
and Naples Catholic dignitaries marshalled
their flocks in solemn processions to re-
ceive the life-saving scarification. The
British Parliament granted Jenner ten
thousand pounds sterling in 1802, which
was followed by a further grant of twenty
thousand pounds in 1806, although every
endeavor was made by certain persons
to excite public prejudice against the
practice. Physicians, who had lost a
valuable practice in the line of inoculation,
condemned it as dangerous, and some
preachers denounced it as opposed to the
designs of Providence, but Napoleon I
decreed him a splendid gold medal, and
the Emperor of Russia and king of Prussia
especially invited him to call upon them
when visiting London; the Chiefs of the
Five Nations of Canadian Indians sent
him the greatest possible token of gratitude
and honor with the following address:
"Brother: Our Father has delivered
to us 1>he book you sent to instruct us
how to use the discovery which the Great
Spirit made to you, whereby the small-
pox, that fatal enemy of our tribe, may be
driven from the earth. We have deposited
the book in the hands of the man of skill
whom our Great Father employs to attend
us when sick or wounded. We shall not
fail to teach our children to speak the
name of Jenner, and to thank the Great
Spirit for bestowing upon him so much
wisdom and so much benevolence. We
send with this a belt and string of wampum,
in token of our acceptance of your precious
gift; and we beseech the Great Spirit to
take care of you in this world, and in the
Land of Spirits."
A great discovery was outlined by
Leopold Auenbrugger of Vienna, in 1761,
when he published the results of seven
years of careful research and experimenting
diagnosing the internal diseases of the
thorax and chest by means of percussion
and auscultation. Nearly fifty years
later, Corvisart of Paris rescued this vital
discovery and the name of Auenbrugger
from obscurity, by translating his work
into French. It was left for a French-
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
851
man, Rene Laennec, born in Bretagne
in 1781, to discover the first stethoscope,
now so indispensable to the diagnosis of
the lungs and heart.
Among the great improvements in
surgery may be mentioned the invention
of many useful instruments and appliances
by Percival Potts of St. Batholomew's
Hospital, London, succeeded at his death
in 1788 by John Hunter, the enthusiastic
anatomist, who discovered that a vein
or artery might be extirpated, and that
Nature would establish a "collateral
circulation," through the enlargement of
the minor blood vessels. This discovery
enabled him in 1785 to tie the femoral
artery and save his patient's life, and Sir
Astley Cooper, who succeeded Hunter in
office (1793) to tie the aorta, the principal
artery of the body, in 1815. An American,
Dr. J. F. D. Jones, in 1805, had previously,
for the first time, shown the exact effect
of ligatures on severed blood-vessels, and
how Nature assisted in closing the orifice.
In France, Dominique Larrey, born
among the Pyrenees in 1776, became a
valued servant and friend of the great
Napoleon, and first established that sys-
tem of "flying ambulances," which carried
the wounded to the rear almost as soon
as disabled. The staff numbered about
340 men with four heavy and twelve light
two and four wheeled ambulances to each
division. Napoleon reviewed this arm of
the service with the greatest interest,
and once exclaimed to Larrey: "Your
work is one of the most important con-
ceptions of our age. It will suffice for
your reputation." For the Egyptian
campaign, Larrey secured the services of
eight hundred qualified surgeons, in addi-
tion to the regular force. At Alexandria
General Figuieres was severely wounded,
and on his recovery wished to present
Napoleon with a splendid Damascus
sabre. "Yes," said the emperor, "I accept
in order to give it to the Surgeon-in-Chief ,
by whose exertions your life has been
spared." This sabre, engraved with the
words "Aboukir" and "Larrey" was taken
from the great surgeon by the Prussians
at Waterloo.
Larrey could fight as well as heal.
Certain Mussulman fanatics attempted to
murder the sick and wounded in the Cairo
hospitals, but were cut down by the
surgeons, two of whom, Roussel and
Moujin, were killed, and Larrey barely
escaped. When his patients were dying
for lack of nutritious food, Larrey was
known to kill the horses and camels of
the wagon train, and on one occasion
even the officer's chargers, using the
cuirasses of the guard to cook his rich
soups and stews. Aiding the French
wounded at nightfall, after Waterloo, he
was sabred and left for dead by some
Prussian lancers. Recovering his senses
he attempted to reach France, but was
taken prisoner, and ordered to be shot,
but was saved by a surgeon-major, who
had heard him lecture in Berlin, some
six years before. Blucher, whose own
son owed his life to Larrey 's skill, finally
gave him a more generous and hospitable
reception. He died in 1842, having out-
lived his imperial master, who had thus
JENNER, A. D. 1749-1823
English physician, discoverer of vaccination
remembered him in his will at St. Helena.
"I bequeath to the Surgeon-in-Chief of
the French army, Larrey, one hundred
thousand francs. He is the most virtuous
man I have ever known."
In 1882 Jean Civiale introduced the
operation of crushing calculus without
recourse to the surgeon's knife. Guillaume
Dupuytrien, called "the Napoleon of
Surgery," greatly improved the methods
852
THE NOBILITY OF THE TRADES
of treating fractures and dislocations,
introduced resection of diseased facial
bones, and greatly lessened the fatalities
from abdominal surgery. In 1835, finding
himself at the point of death from the
formation of pus in the chest cavity, he
refused to be operated upon by the cele-
brated Sanson, saying: "I would rather
die at the hands of God than man." To
Armand Trouseau of Tours we owe the
operation of tracheotomy — the introduc-
tion of a silver tube below the swollen
larynx through the windpipe, thus pre-
venting strangulation; to Von Graefe of
Warsaw (1811) the surgical reparation of
the features, growing new ones, or replac-
ing severed parts, or as it is termed,
"plastic surgery"; to Stromeyer of
Hanover many a cripple is indebted for
the discovery of tenotomy, which, by
severing a shortened tendon and allowing
it to reunite at the right length, has
remedied many deformities.
Richard Bright, of England, in 1827
first described and differentiated from
other forms of dropsical infirmities the
kidney trouble known as "Bright 's dis-
ease," and William Stokes (1835), in con-
junction with a Dr. Graves, revolutionized
the treatment which before their time
had almost utterly failed to cure peritonitis.
Professor John Hughes Bennett, of Edin-
burg, in 1841, first recommended the use
o£ cod liver oil in consumption, and Pierre
Bretonneau in 1818 showed that diph-
theria was something more than an un-
usually severe sore throat.
Cholera, first described by Garcia del
Huerto of Goa in 1560, destroyed nearly
a million victims in Russia and Western
Asia in 1830, twenty thousand in Palermo
in four months of pestilence in 1837,
thirty thousand in Constantinople in
1865, and nearly one hundred thousand
in Spain in 1885.
The growth of sanitation during the
last generation; the more humane and
effective treatment of insanity; the dis-
coveries of Pasteur and others, of the
microbes which produce hydrophobia,
lockjaw, consumption and other once
"incurable" diseases; the discoveries of
the uses and methods of administering
ether, chloroform, nitrous oxide, cocaine
and other anaesthetics; the invention of
the instruments by which the inmost
secrets of the eye and nasal and throat
passages can be inspected or treated; the
wonderful improvement made in the
realm of operative and mechanical
dentistry, and the merciful and effective
treatment of the diseases of women are
among the great and beneficent changes
of the last half of the Nineteenth Century.
Even the "fads," which have been so
strongly condemned by the "regular"
practitioner, have had their share in the
work of improvement. Hahnemann's
homeopathy was doubtless largely ac-
cepted, because of the drastic purges
and bleedings, the reckless exhibition of
calomel, the nauseous, digestion-destroy-
ing draughts, pills and boluses of the
"allopaths" of his day; and the magnetic,
eclectic and faith-healing "quackeries"
are not wholly without their counterparts
in the scientific use of static electricity,
the larger use of drugs not unlike the
Thompsonian medicines, and the quiet
administration of a "placebo" or inert
prescription, relying on the faith of the
patient and the vix medicatrix naturae.
The powerful "rays" to which Professor
Conrad Rontgen has given his name, the
use of other forms of intense and colored
light in skin diseases, the powers of
radium for the destruction of abnormal
growths, and a host of minor but hardly
less important means of healing, will
occur to the mind of the reader as evi-
dences of the immense changes which within
the memory of living men have replaced
crude, and often almost brutal sciences
of healing.
A great army of martyrs, the trusting
and helpless victims of conventional and
traditional, and sometimes of recklessly
inflicted tortures, have gone down to
death, with little benefit to the race except
perhaps a hint to some practitioner that
his diagnosis was wrong, and his treat-
ment a fatal error. It is to be hoped that
in another life they are privileged to
realize that, collectively, "they died not
in vain," but added their mite to the tre-
mendous current of human labor and
suffering, which impels the human race
"from hardships to the stars."
TH E CAS E
OF THE
CROWN JEWELS
by Maitland Leroij Osbornc
\
COVING his pencil slowly,
jBll the edit or of the Expr ess,
with a thoughtful frown
wrinkling his brow,
rounded out the final
sentence of the leading
article that was to make
a group of grafters gasp
on the morrow, then,
biting the end from a
fresh cigar, leaned back
in his chair and peered
owl-like through a cloud
of smoke at Brannigan.
"Ever hear of Tunis?" he queried with
seeming irrelevance.
Brannigan nodded slowly and groped
in the archives of his memory. "A dinky
little seaport on the Mediterranean," he
answered, "where the slave traders come
in from Algeria and Fey y an, and the
women wear veils and don't wear waists.
I waited there three days for the boat to
Alexandria once. A good place to get
murdered in."
The editor smiled. "You'll be interested
then, perhaps, in knowing that His Royal
Highness Sidi Ali Pasha is here in Washing-
ton— strictly incog., of course, with a por-
tion of his harem, a half dozen eunuchs
and a score of attendants. Also," the great
man watched the smoke curl up from his
cigar with meditative eyes, "that he
brought with him the crown jewels, sup-
posedly worth a few hundred thousand
dollars, and that since reaching Washing-
ton a handful of unset pearls and diamonds
has been stolen."
"Stolen?" said Brannigan alertly, scent-
ing a prospective story.
"Yes, the whole detective force of Wash-
ington has been engaged on the case since
early yesterday. His Royal Highness had
called in a jeweler to discuss mounting
them. The gems were left lying loosely
upon a desk for a half hour or so near an
open window and it is supposed some
sneak thief improved the opportunity to
make way with them. Only for the im-
portance of that New York matter I
should have wired you at once. Not a
whisper has reached the other papers —
yet I've risked their scoring a beat on
us by saving the thing for you. If —
the editor smiled grimly and flicked the
ash from his cigar — "if you should happen
to find them it ought to make a pretty
good story."
"Consider them found," said Brannigan,
diving for the elevator and forgetting the
sleepless night ride from New York in
which he had written out the story of the
Wall Street slump that had shaken the
markets of the world. Five minutes later
he had hailed a taxicab and was being
whirled off to the Turkish embassy.
Brannigan was the star man of the
Express, with more official secrets neatly
labelled and stored away in his brain
than appear on the Nation's records.
Brannigan it was of all the force of the
Express to whom was entrusted the most
delicate missions, and the curly-haired,
blue-eyed little Irishman, who could
wheedle state secrets from the closest-
mouthed Senators, had never been known
to fall down upon an assignment.
Arriving at the Embassy,, he sent in
his card and was, at once admitted to the
presence, from whence he emerged a half
hour later with a contented smile, armed
with credentials that ensured his being
admitted to the confidence of his Royal
Highness, and equipped with information
that would be of invaluable assistance.
Entering his taxicab again, he gave a
new address to the chauffeur and soon was
ascending the brown stone steps of an
(853)
854
THE CASE- OF THE CROWN JEWELS
aristocratic old mansion on a quiet street.
At the portal he found himself confronted
by a gigantic Ethiopian in gorgeous uniform
who evinced an apparent longing too
throw him bodily into the street, into
whose hands he thrust a large, official-
looking envelope bearing a number of
imposing seals, at sight of which the
Caliban of the portal viewed him with a
new respect and by a sweeping gesture of
the arms invited him to enter.
Once across the threshold, Brannigan
felt that he had stepped from the common-
place, conventional Western world into
the midst of Eastern barbarism. The
subtle essence of an unknown perfume
engulfed his senses, and behind myriad
silken draperies he heard faint rustlings,
as of flowing garments, hushed whisper-
ings of curious tongues, and felt instinc-
tively the glances of unseen eyes peering
at him as he passed. The very atmos-
phere was redolent of women's presence;
intangible, illusive, alluring shapes seemed
crowding around him, tempting him to put
forth his hand and touch — and yet he
felt instinctively that grim Death stalked
on either side did he but dare to draw
those rustling draperies aside.
Along the whole length of the great hall
he was conducted to a room at the further
end, before whose closed door another
gigantic negro stood on guard. Here he
waited while his credentials were scrutin-
ized by a secretary in a gaudy uniform and
wearing a red fez.
Presently, after consultation with some
unseen person in the room, the secretary
bade him enter, and a moment later
Brannigan found himself confronting a
tall, imposing looking Turk, whose flash-
ing eyes inspected him with sharp scrutiny.
Brannigan, bowing, gazed at the exalted
potentate before him with equal interest.
His Royal Highness Sidi Ali Pasha would
have been a notable figure in any costume
and amid any surroundings, but clad as
he was in severely correct black clothes
of European cut, with a single resplendent
jewel upon his breast to denote his rank,
and surrounded by the barbaric splendor
of rare silken draperies on the walls and
priceless objects of art scattered around
the room in reckless profusion, he presented
a personality that awed Brannigan some-
what, in spite of his usual impenetrable
sang froid.
"To what fortunate circumstance am
I indebted for the pleasure of this visit?"
His Highness asked in carefully precise
English, betraying the true Easterner's
marvellous linguistic adaptability.
"Your Excellency," Brannigan answered,
bowing deeply, "the management of the
Express, which I have the honor to repre-
sent, having learned of the loss you have
recently sustained, hasten to offer their
condolences and assistance. We under-
stand that the clumsy efforts of the police,
as usual, have been without result; and
we beg to offer you, if you will honor us
with your confidence, the almost positive
assurance that we can recover for you
quickly the valuables that are missing.
For your Excellency's enlightenment I
wish to explain that in this country it is
the great newspapers, with their limitless
resources, their tireless persistency, and
their trained initiative, rather than the
slow process of the law, that brings crime
to light and assures its punishment. No
criminal, however cunning, can escape
their relentless pursuit, and no crime can
be so hidden that they cannot ferret it
out. We know that the crown jewels
have been stolen — we know that the police
have been striving unavailingly to appre-
hend the thief, and we wish to offer you
our assistance. Valuable time has already
been lost. I would respectfully urge your
Excellency to accept our aid."
His Royal Highness, as Brannigan
ceased speaking, paced the floor for a few
moments in deep thought, then turned
impulsively and flung out his hand, palm
upward, in a gesture of assent.
"The secret is out, I see," he said. "I
am sufficiently well acquainted with West-
ern customs to understand what your
offer means. You will make of the affair
what you call 'news,' and I shall gain a
great amount of notoriety which I would
infinitely prefer to avoid, but — doubtless
you will recover for me the jewels, which
outweighs every other consideration."
Brannigan, inwardly elated, bowed cere-
moniously. "Believe me, your Excel-
lency," he answered, "your decision is
most wise — and now," he drew out his
note book, "will you kindly favor me with
THE CASE OF THE CROWN JEWELS
855
the most minutely exact description of the
missing jewels possible?"
His Royal Highness seated himself
upon a couch and lighted a cigarette, then
signed to the secretary, who had been
waiting unobtrusively in the background,
to advance. "You have the list," he said,
"proceed."
A half hour later Brannigan left the
mansion, entered the waiting taxicab,
and was whirled back to the office of the
Express at breakneck speed. Hurrying
from the elevator into the reporter's
room, he seated himself before his desk,
drew his typewriter toward him with
nervous haste, inserted a sheet of copy
paper on the platen and flung back the
carriage. Then for a long moment he
gazed introspect ively at the ceiling, chew-
ing nervously upon his unlighted cigar,
seeking the opening phrase upon which
to build the fabric of his "story," and
suddenly began to pound the keys with
seeming frenzy.
It chanced to be an "off" day for news,
and featured as it was on the first page of
the Express, with cunningly concocted
"scare" heads, Brannigan's story of the
robbery of the crown jewels created a
sensation. Moreover it was a "scoop,"
in which every newspaper man takes
pride, and Brannigan's sensations as he
scanned a sheet still damp from the press
and heard the newsboys' shrill heralding
of "Extra Express — all about the great
crown jewel robbery!" were pleasurable
in the extreme.
But in the first flush of his satisfaction
he reflected that the most serious part of
the affair still demanded his attention.
In consideration of the exclusive informa-
tion he had gleaned from His Royal
Highness, Brannigan had virtually prom-
ised to restore the jewels. And it was not
an idle promise. Long experience in
tracking down criminals in the course of
newspaper assignments had made him
familiar with the dark by-ways frequented
by the guild that preys, and brought him
to close acquaintance with sources of in-
formation hidden ofttimes from the repre-
sentatives of the law themselves. For it
is a curious commentary on the vanity of
human kind that criminals as a class look
with as much complacency upon the ex-
ploitation of their crimes by the press as
do the devotees of fashion upon the news-
paper comment upon their frailties and
follies. Indeed, despite the fact that
newspapers are the greatest modern
agency in the detection of crime, the
average "crook" grows boastingly lo-
quacious in the presence of a reporter,
while he emulates the dumbness of an
oyster where a policeman is concerned.
It was upon this curious circumstance
that Brannigan relied to fulfill his promise.
Also he knew that not Washington itself,
but New York, would be the most likely
field for his investigation. The vulture
of the under-world is a gregarious fowl
that flocks to the largest roosting place.
The glitter and glare of the Great White
Way attracts it as the candle attracts
the moth.
Straight to New York he went there-
fore, and began a patient quest that led
him by devious ways into the maelstrom
of the under-world that seethes and eddies
ceaselessly beneath the surface of respect-
ability. From gambling hells to saloons
he wandered, from saloons to opium joints,
from opium joints to cheap theatres, from
theatres to dance halls; and in each place
he visited he mingled unobtrusively with
the crowd, touching elbows with crooks
and outcasts of all degrees — thieves, "con"
men, gamblers, "touts," the humble
"dip" and the aristocratic "second-story
worker," all morosely intent on snatching
a few brief hours of pleasure or oblivion.
And everywhere he went, he watched
patiently for a face — a rat-like, furtive
face with red-lidded, shifting eyes that
feared the light, and lean, snarling lips
bared ever in a wolf -like grin. And always
while he watched, one hand thrust with
seeming carelessness in his pocket clutched
the butt of an automatic Colt, and no man
stood ever between him and the wall.
After many weary hours he saw the face
for which he was watching, and waiting
to catch the glance of the furtive eyes,
made an almost imperceptible sign of
recognition and command and straight-
way left the gambling hell where his
search had been rewarded.
A half hour later, in a private room in
a Bowery "joint" he sat facing "The Rat"
at a small round table. "Smoke?" queried
856
THE CASE OF THE CROWN JEWELS
Brannigan, holding out a fat black per-
fecto which his vis-a-vis clutched eagerly.
Then he pressed a button on the table and
presently a bull-necked, scowling waiter
thrust his head within the door. "Two
absinthe cocktails," he demanded curtly,
and when they had been served, rose and
locked the door.
Brannigan sipped his cocktail slowly
and gazed inquiringly at "The Rat," who
drank his at a gulp and licked his lean
lips furtively with his tongue.
"Well?" asked Brannigan presently.
"The Rat's" evasive 'glance wandered
restlessly from floor to ceiling. "I don't
know a thing," he croaked plaintively —
"honest, I don't."
Brannigan smiled serenely, and with his
cigar in one corner of his mouth, thrust
his hand into the inner pocket of his vest
and drew forth a long, flat bundle that
looked to "The Rat's" keenly appraisng
glance like ready money.
Slipping the rubber bands that bound
the package from their place, Brannigan
began slowly piling crisp new ten dollar
bills one upon another, while "The Rat,"
torn between cowardice and cupidity,
watched the growing pile with glittering
eyes.
When twenty crisp green bills lay on
the pile, Brannigan shoved them toward
"The Rat" invitingly. "They're yours,"
he said pleasantly, "if you've got what I'm
looking for."
"The Rat"— stool-pigeon, "tout," in-
former, "fence," a jackal who preyed on
those who preyed on society at large —
thrust out a claw-like hand convulsively
toward the bills. "What do you want to
know?" he croaked.
"I want to know what gang pinched
the crown jewels from the Turkish prince
in Washington, and where they're planted,"
answered Brannigan succinctly.
"That's what I thought," "The Rat"
chuckled evilly. "There ain't much doing
in that line I'm not hep to. Give me the
money." He drew the bills toward him,
and folding them into a compact roll,
thrust them into his pocket. ;'It was
Paddy Ryan that lifted the sparklers,"
he said, "and he was so proud over doing
the job alone that when he got back on
the Avenue, and had put away a few
drinks, he couldn't help bragging about
it to a skirt he had a shine for, and show-
ing her the stones. That's Paddy's weak-
ness— women, and bragging about his
cleverness. It happens that the skirt is
a friend of mine, and she put me wise.
He's hiding now in his old quarters on the
East Side, waiting for a cattle steamer to
leave for Liverpool. It's over a saloon."
"The Rat" named a street and number.
"Go in the side door and up two flights —
it's the first door on the left as you go
down the hall. That's about all, I guess?"
Brannigan nodded. "Much obliged,"
he said genially. "If I can do you a favor
any time, let me know."
"The Rat" rose and unlocked the door,
peered about him for a moment suspic-
iously, and vanished down the dim-lit
hallway.
* * *
Mr. Paddy Ryan, chevalier d'industrie,
expert "second-story worker," "con" man
and general all-round "crook," having in
his own parlance "made a killing," was
temporarily secluded in the privacy of
his apartments pending the departure of
his customary means of conveyance to
European ports — a cattle steamer. He
was no stranger to Europe and the Conti-
nent, and just now he was pleasantly
contemplating a brief sojourn in Amster-
dam, where certain business matters might
be quickly attended to, followed by par-
ticipation in the pleasures of Monte Carlo,
Nice and Paris. Mr. Ryan, collarless,
coatless, vestless, with his gaudy striped
shirt open at his bull-like neck, was re-
clining luxuriously in a softly padded
Morris chair, with his slippered feet com-
fortably elevated at a pleasing angle, a
tall, slender-stemmed glass of cheerful
hue within easy reach, and a fat gold-
banded black cigar between his lips, perus-
ing the columns of his favorite sporting
journal. In a word, Mr. Ryan was for the
moment deeply at peace with all the world.
There came a rap at Mr. Ryan's door —
a gentle, discreet, confidential, apologetic
rap, denoting confidence and friendly
intent. Mr. Ryan sighed luxuriously,
lowered his feet to the floor, nicked the
ash from his cigar, and rising, strolled
negligently to the door and threw it in-
vitingly open.
THE CASE OF THE CROWN JEWELS
857
Tableau! Brannigan, reporter for the
Express, stood quietly smiling upon the
threshold, with a very big and business-
like looking automatic Colt pointing di-
rectly at Mr. Ryan's shocked and sur-
prised countenance. With seemingly one
movement Mr. Ryan's visitor had entered
the room, closed and locked the door,
deposited the key in his pocket and thrust
his obnoxious weapon in unpleasing prox-
imity to his host's right eye.
For a long moment Mr. Ryan squinted
with fascinated gaze down the interior of
a blue steel tube that seemed to his appre-
hensive vision to be a mile in length and
as large in its interior dimensions as one
of those massive implements of war that
grace the revolving turrets of a battleship.
"Well— I'll— be— d d!" stated Mr.
Ryan feelingly, after a surprised moment
of silence, allowing the pink sporting sheet
to drop from his relaxed fingers to the floor.
"Sit down, Paddy," invited Brannigan
pleasantly. "I want to talk with you."
Sulkily, Mr. Ryan complied with the
invitation, relieving his overcharged feel-
ings with a lengthy flow of picturesquely
vigorous profanity.
"Now, Paddy," observed Brannigan
pleasantly, when his host had ceased
swearing from lack of breath, "I've got
you dead to rights, and I'm going to make
you a proposition. You've got the goods,
and you'll have to give them up, either to
me or the police. I've got a private
agency man watching every entrance to
the building. If you'll look out the window
you'll see one across the street. And I
have an assistant waiting at the public
telephone booth around the corner. If
I don't report to him in ten minutes he'll
call police headquarters, and then, Paddy,
it will be you for the barred window and
the bread and water diet. And I don't
think you like bread and water, Paddy —
you tried it for a couple years, didn't you?"
Ryan squirmed and glared at his tor-
mentor malevolently . ' ' D n you — yes ! ' '
he growled.
"Now then," continued Brannigan, "I'm
going to offer to compound a felony. I
don't care two cents whether you go to
prison for the rest of your existence or not,
but I do want the Express to have the
prestige of turning over the Prince's jewels
to him without police assistance. The
game is up for you anyway, and I'll give
you a hundred dollars to recompense you
for your time and trouble, and fake a
story about the recovery of the jewels
that will not involve you in any way, if
you will hand them over quietly. Think
quick, Paddy, time is fleeting."
For a long moment Ryan gazed con-
templatively at the ceiling, watching his
dreams of Nice and Paris and Monte
Carlo dissolve and disappear — then he
sighed deeply, and rising, lifted the cushion
from the seat of the Morris chair, ran his
hand into an opening in the under side,
drew forth a chamois bag and handed it
to Brannigan.
"They're all there," he said huskily,
and Brannigan, assuring himself by a
hasty inspection that this item of informa-
tion was correct, handed the chastened
Ryan a hundred dollar bill, backed
alertly to the door, unlocked and opened
it, stepped through it with a parting smile
and hastened down the stairs.
An hour later he was on his way to
Washington, and after the jewels, impos-
ingly arranged, had been photographed
for the Sunday edition he returned them
in person to His Royal Highness.
"Your newspaper enterprise — it is mar-
vellous," said that exalted personage.
"I feel myself to be under the deepest
obligations, both to you personally and
to your paper."
"It is a pleasure, I assure you, to have
been of service to your Excellency," an-
swered Brannigan, bowing himself from
the presence.
A week later while in the midst of his
labor on the story of a scandal in the
Land Department, a secretary of the
Turkish Embassy presented himself at
Brannigan's desk in the reporter's room
of the Express and gravely placed in his
hands an elaborately gold-mounted sha-
green jewel casket. Surprised, Brannigan
pressed the spring that released the cover,
and when it flew back, there on a bed of
crimson satin lay revealed the gorgeous
jeweled star of the Order of the Moon.
"With the most gracious compliments of
His Royal Highness Sidi AH Pasha," stated
the secretary with punctilious exactitude,
and saluting gravely, he departed.
AWEDDING TRJP
HE big lake liner was on
its way at last. Shirley
Neeves clung to the rail
and gazed back over its
lengthening wake at the
distant docks which were
fast merging their iden-
tity into that of the
sky-line. She was still a
little numb and dazed
from the shock of the morning — her wed-
ding morning when she had wakened to
find that her bridegroom had departed
for regions unknown with another bride.
At first she had sat stunned, while her
sister-in-law wept and her brother swore;
then suddenly her brain had cleared,
restored to activity by an inspiration to
take her wedding journey alone. Why not?
The traveling suit, a triumph of un-bride-
like inconspicuousness, was in readiness;
the trunk and the suit-case she had been
packing for weeks were even then awaiting
the transfer man; and every inch of the
route she knew by heart, for she had
planned it herself -months ahead. Why
should she return to the covert gibes and
intolerable condolences of the girls at the
office, or lay herself open to the pitying
patronage -of her brother's family?
As her eyes wandered out over the blue,
sunlit waters of Michigan, she laughed a
hard, defiant little laugh at the thought of
the storm of disapproval, not to say
horror, awakened by her announcement
of her determination to take the projected
trip. They had looked at her as if they
doubted her sanity, and had given her to
understand that she was about to outrage
ZOE
HARTMAN
the most sacred tradition of rejected
love — namely, that a broken heart should
stay broken for a decent interval, say, at
least twenty-four hours! But the dashing
of her matrimonial hopes had left her, for
the first time in her life, indifferent to
authoritative opinion and -inaccessible
to the proprieties — a suddenly reared tower
of reckless self-confidence. She knew she
was doing an unconventional thing and
she gloried in it, feeling vaguely that,
somehow, she was thereby getting square
with fate.
"Am I to stay here with my nose to the
grindstone for the rest of my days," she
had demanded of her tearful sister-in-law,
"just because Joe Sellars chooses to throw
me over? I've never been anywhere in
all my life, nor had anything nice to wear
till now. And I've always wanted to see
the Lakes and the Thousand Islands.
Let people talk! They'd talk worse if I
stayed. And if I can help it, they're not
going to get the idea that I'm pining for
Joe Sellars . I'm going ! ' '
Again she laughed aloud with a grim
triumphal joy in the reminiscence, and
aroused herself with a start to the reality
of the gleaming white deck, the oily
undulations of the waters about the stern
and the deep, not unpleasant accents of a
human voice addressing itself, apparently,
to her.
"Well, who'd dream of meeting you here,
Miss Neeves?— I suppose it's Mrs. Sellars
now!"
Amazed, Shirley turned quickly to see
before her, hat in hand, a brawny stranger,
square of chin and deep of chest, whose
(858)
A WEDDING TRIP FOR ONE
859
brisk movements and fresh, unlined face
belied his heaviness of build and the
sprinkling of white in his hair. There
was something vaguely familiar about the
way his eyes had of smiling deep down in
their sockets beneath bushy brows, while
the rest of his face remained grave; and
she felt overwhelmed with confusion under
their whimsical gleam of recognition. As
if divining her difficulty in identifying
him, he came to her rescue.
"I'm afraid you don't remember me,
Mrs. Sellars. My name's Bryson — Proctor
Bryson, of Atlantic Central Insurance.
I used to see you often in the offices of
Smith and Belknap when you were Miss
Neeves. I was in there not long ago and
my friend Smith was telling me how he
was about to lose his best stenographer
in a few days, for she was going to get
married. I'm glad to see you again.
D'ye remember how Smith got you to
do a long abstract for me once when
my stenographer left me stranded?"
Shirley caught her breath sharply,
and then bit her lip to cover up all
traces of bewilderment.
"Yes, I remember you now, Mr.
Bryson. Did — did Mr. Smith mention
my new name to you?"
"I don't think he did. I saw the
name on your suit-case while you J:
were at the purser's desk downstairs,
and I said to myself, 'Bless me if it
isn't the bride starting on her honey-
moon!' By the way, I once did a
little business with a Joseph Sellars,
but I suppose it can't be the same
chap. Dandy sailing weather, isn't
it? Looks as if we'd have smooth
water the entire trip."
Again that deep-set smile, bewilder-
ing in its possibilities of frank good-
fellowship ; but Shirley was too badly
shaken for any more friendly overtures.
How she got rid of him she never knew,
so intent was her mind on a certain
incriminatory suit-case which, she hazily
remembered, had been carried to her
stateroom by a cabin-boy. Thither she
hurried — all but ran — to fling herself
down beside the suit-case and stare help-
lessly at the name inscribed on one end
in small, black capitals, "Mrs. Joseph
H. Sellars." Her first sensation was one
of acute consternation over the fact that
the label, put on by her own hands with
many a proud nourish, had been over-
looked in the excitement of the morning —
after all the pains she had taken to elimin-
ate all traces of the bride from her ap-
pearance ! Her first impulse was to repudi-
ate the title at any cost, then followed a
,
'Well, who'd dream of meeting you here, Miss
Neeves? — / suppose it's Mrs. Sellars now!"
hopelessly impotent feeling that the mis-
take could be cleared up by nothing short
of a full confession of her jilted state to
Proctor Bryson — an ordeal not to be con-
sidered for a moment as being within the
range of the humanly possible. Besides,
there was the remote chance of attracting
the suspicions of others, who, like Proctor
Bryson, might have seen the label.
Stupefied, she made her way slowly
back to the upper deck, trying to recall
860
A WEDDING TRIP FOR ONE
the mental processes by which she had
decided on her present course, but the
nightmare of the morning had left nothing
but anguished blankness of mind. Pass-
ing through the ladies' parlor, she paused,
struck by a reflection of herself in one of
the full-length mirrors. Passing over the
discovery that it is possible to lose any of
one's two and thirty years with the aid of
a glove-fitting tailored gown, even of the
most conservative color, she told herself
that while the face was too white and the
eyes were too feverishly brilliant, there
was happily no hint of the lovelorn old
maid in the mirrored figure.
As she gazed, a reckless daring grew
within her; why not play the role thus
thrust upon her, for all the glory and
distinction there was in it? She felt
reasonably sure that the tale of her poor
little matrimonial fiasco could not filter
far beyond the limits of her small circle,
since her brother and sister-in-law, feeling
a kind of family disgrace attaching there-
by, would be loth to spread it. Without
any consideration for qualms or doubts,
her decision was taken.
After her first sensation of distaste had
worn off, she spent the rest of the after-
noon on deck behind the covers of a
magazine, evolving an appropriate fiction
to account for her lack of a bridegroom.
Also she dug up an old wedding-ring for
the emergency — a family heirloom which
she carried with the rest of her valuables
in her suit-case. So she was ready for
Proctor Bryson when, the next morning,
he drew his chair up close to hers and began
apologetically, "I must beg your pardon,
Mrs. Sellars, for the foolish blunder I
made yesterday in assuming that you were
out on your wedding trip. I sort of
wondered at first why you didn't present
your husband, and when I saw he wasn't
with you on deck or at dinner, I realized
that you were traveling alone. I tell you,
I almost put my foot in it once or twice!"
"It was a very natural mistake," said
Shirley, feeling herself flush up under his
frank look, but meeting his eyes with a
steady smile. "As a matter of fact, Mr.
Bryson, I am taking a belated wedding
journey. You see, immediately after our
marriage, my husband was called away
unexpectedly on very pressing business,
and of course, just at that critical moment,
what must I do but come down with a
terrible nervous headache; and he had to
go on and leave me. I'm on my way to
join him in Montreal and then comes our
real wedding trip together."
It was only a warmed-over tale of a
friend's interrupted honeymoon, but,
charged with romance by her imagination,
it acquired a sweep of enthusiasm that
carried conviction to herself as well as
her auditor. She told herself she was
surprised that the hard, prosaic drudgery
of her life had left so much romance in her.
"It must be hard luck to have your
honeymoon postponed!" he sympathized
with a heartiness that made her wince.
"But it's not so bad, I suppose, as no
honeymoon at all. Now that's my fix.
Confirmed bachelor — no hope. At least,
so my friends say." He chuckled whimsi-
cally, then veered to a more business-like
tone. "That reminds me — I'm going to
Montreal, too. I had intended to stop
a few days with an old chum in the Thou-
sand Islands, but this morning got a
message by wireless that'll make it im-
possible for me to stop. So you see, I'm
yours to command till you find your
husband. Any little odd jobs you may
have that you don't want to turn over to
the middies, just set 'em aside for me."
Seized with a pang of uneasiness,
Shirley started to demur, but was over-
ruled by his protest that it would be a
great feather in his cap to serve a bride.
Under the soothing influence of his big,
cheery, wholesome personality, her doubts
subsided, and she yielded herself, at first
reluctantly, and then with the avidity
of a pleasure-starved soul, to the seductions
of the great horizonless world of waters.
Here sunset was a miracle, and the cry
of the herring gulls mingled with the hiss-
ing of the water about the bow, and made
a wierd lullaby that was like a sedative to
her weary mind and jaded nerves.
The outlook from her deck-chair re-
vealed a more kindly, softer-cushioned
world than any she had ever known —
one that seemed furtively interested in
herself. For the story of her delayed
honeymoon gradually found its way to
them through the garrulous old captain,
whose genial interest in her she saw fit
A WEDDING TRIP FOR ONE
861
to "stick by her till she found her hus-
band."
"Oh, I don't expect Mr. Sellars at the
pier to meet me," she assured him hardily.
"He'll be much too busy for that. I shall
take a carriage and go straight to his hotel."
"Do you know, I've a kind of an idea
he'll be there," he observed. "I should
to repay with the confidence. She loved
to lie in her chair and let her eyes rove
the length of the deck, where the sleek
and well-groomed passengers lounged or
promenaded, and in many a fleeting
glance paid respectful tribute to her new
dignities. As the hard-driven stenographer
— humble cog in the wheel of business —
she had never known that
deference. Then, too, the chiv-
alric devotion of Proctor Bry-
son, none the less gratifying
because offered to a presuma-
bly married woman, went far
to help her forget the man
who had discovered that his
engagement to her was "all a
mistake" in time to take his
wedding journey with another
woman.
Sometimes she almost forgot
about the other man complete-
ly, and laughed and jested
happily with Proctor Bryson
or matched her fancy with
his in weaving wonderful half-
spoken romances of the lake
and the sky, as they leaned on
the rail and looked out over
the water. The transition from
the Lakes to the St. Lawrence
was a source of almost child-
ish delight to her, and the
Thousand Islands with their
shore line of gleaming lights,
looming up in the summer
twilight, like so many half
circlets of jewels, awoke every
sybarite instinct in her.
"Arabian Nights land!"
she breathed wistfully, as he
pointed them out and de- "Just then Proctor Bryson intervened -with a storm in his
scribed their beauty. "I want
an enchanted palace there!"
He surveyed her thoughtfully with a
look she did not understand. "You're
right in line for one," he said whimsically.
"Happy people always get one."
The unconscious irony of the remark
chilled her, and she was glad to bury it
deep in plans to prolong the trip from
Montreal to New York. Meanwhile,
as they approached Montreal, Proctor
Bryson laid possessive hands on her suit-
case, tranquilly reasserting his intention
eyes that drew from he.r a low word of entreaty"
if I were in his shoes. We'll look for him,
anyway."
Shirley flinched "at the shaft, thankful
that the confusion of landing relieved her
of the necessity of a reply. As they made
their way down the gangplank and wedged
through the crowd on the pier, her mind
was too busy with the problem of how to
get rid of her cavalier to grasp immediately
the significance of a certain familiar-look -
ing*[back looming up ahead of her. It
862
A WEDDING TRIP FOR ONE
was not until the owner of the back drifted
slightly apart from the crowd at the further
end of the pier and presented a clean-
shaven and almost delicately regular
profile, that she awoke, with a half-stifled
cry, to the possibilities of the situation.
Proctor Bryson turned quickly and looked
at her with concern.
"What is it? Did they jostle you? Or,"
fatal instinct sent his glance flying after
hers, "did you see Sellars?"
Just then the crowd broke and he of the
profile swung front and advanced to within
a few paces of them, talking proprietor-wise
to a pretty woman, a silk-lined, sleepy-eyed
creature with an expression of sweetness
that just escaped insipidity.
"Well, I'll be — ! It is the Sellars I
once knew. Come along, Mrs. Sellars,
we're in luck!" cried Bryson in his big,
hearty tone, darting forward, too absorbed
in his discovery to heed the voice at his
elbow, pleading in an agonized undertone,
"Don't, oh, please don't, Mr. Bryson, it's
all a mistake!"
It was too late. Sellars had already
seen them and stopped short. Of the con-
ventionally handsome type of man —
straight-browed, thin-lipped and square-
jawed — he was, however, lacking in a
certain rugged openness of feature that
stamps mere good looks with the seal of
the thoroughbred.
"Hello, Sellars, don't you remember me?
— Proctor Bryson, who insured your life
once back in the days when I was with
the Metropolitan Life? Glad to see you
again. I had the honor of coming up from
Chicago on the same boat with your wife,
and we've just been looking for you!"
Sellars recoiled before the outstretched
hand.
"My dear Mr. Bryson? I don't re-
member having met you, but I'm willing
to take your good intentions for granted
and explain that this lady is not my wife.
I really haven't the honor of her acquaint-
ance. This is Mrs. Sellars!"
Drawing his companion's arm magisteri-
ally through his own, he flung Shirley the
impassive glance of the stranger, but she
noticed the trembling of his hand and the
sudden damp pallor in his face — a sight
which gave her the iron steadiness for
which she was groping.
"Mr. Sellars is quite right." She faced
him without a quiver, inaccessible alike
to the helpless amazement of Bryson and
the arctic temperature of the bride. "There
has been a mistake. Neither of us has
the honor of the other's acquaintance.
Come, Mr. Bryson, shall we go?"
Sellars blinked and mumbled something
she did not catch, for just then Proctor
Bryson intervened, with a storm in his
eyes that drew from her a low word of
entreaty. By the time the current of the
crowd caught them and swept them away
to the landward extremity of the pier,
he was raging.
"Why didn't you let me hit him? He'd
have made such an elegant corpse — the
d hound! It would be a much
neater, more sportsman-like job to jam
his head into the pier than to swear out
a warrant against him for desertion and
bigamy!"
"But it was a mistake! You think —
Shirley's voice failed her.
"No, *no, you can't feed me that little
fiction! Your face told me all I wanted
to know, and his, too. What's to be gained
by trying to shield the cursed reptile?
Now he'll get away!"
"Shield him!" She laughed hysterically,
her control fast slipping from her. "Why
should I shield him? In the eyes of
society, he has committed no crime. It's
I who've been a terrible fool. I lied to you.
I'm still Shirley Neeves. He simply jilted
me, that's all."
Bryson stared at her blankly, while
she rushed on, panting in her effort to
hold herself, "And I thought I was going
through a stage of romantic suffering for
this wretched little shrimp! And I laid
myself open to the impossible humiliation
of being repudiated by him even as an
acquaintance, after stealing his name and
masquerading as his wife for three days!
To drag one's pride in the dirt for a creature
like that!"
"Why did you pass yourself off as his
wife?" He was watching her, puzzled,
in a patient effort to gather up the broken
threads.
"Because I was mad as a hatter! I
went blundering off and forgot to change
the label on my suit-case and after you
had seen it, I didn't have sense enough
A WEDDING TRIP FOR ONE
863
to tell the truth, or lie out of the fix
cleverly. Why, the lie even pleased me — •
I enjoyed being a bride— ugh!" The
dogged hardness in her tone broke.
"Please call a carriage, Mr. Bryson, and
get me some place where I can scratch
off this horrible label!"
Promptly he hailed a passing taxicab
and helped her in, calling to the chauffeur:
"The Windsor," then to Shirley quietly:
"Now tell me all about it. How did you
happen to take the same trip as Sellars
and his wife?"
"How was I to know they'd take the
very trip he and I had planned. Early the
morning of my wedding day — the day
I left Chicago — when I got his message
saying he was to be married to a former
sweetheart, I was desperate. I'd been
looking forward to this trip six months.
Never 'd been anywhere to amount to
anything in my life before, and the grind
at the office was driving me crazy. Be-
sides, I just couldn't bring myself to go
back to the disgrace!"
"It isn't a square deal, sure, but dis-
grace— " he protested, with a boyishly
obvious effort to spare her further humilia-
tion.
"Yes, disgrace!" she burst out in long-
pent rebellion against the nameless law
that penalized her failure to hold her
lover. "A big-minded, generous man like
you, Mr. Bryson, simply can't realize
what it is to be a jilted girl ! It's the man
that does the wrong — she's perfectly
innocent; yet by the time her best friends
and all the respectable people and all the
bums in town get through with her, she's
lucky if she has any self-respect left, much
less a rag of reputation! There was a
jilted girl in the office across from ours,
and if what she went through — oh, well,
what's the use?" She paused, oppressed
by a dread of impending tears. "I was a
coward and a f-fool not to know — there
are — worse things to f-face! D-don't
think I'm going to cry! I n-never cry!"
And she choked back the sobs in fierce
disgust.
Proctor Bryson squirmed a little and
looked fixejdly out the window.
"And I had the chance of my life to
hammer his worthless carcass to pulp!"
he muttered. "That's always the way —
those whelps usually get away with nothing
worse than a good hiding or a fifty thou-
sand dollar breach of promise suit on their
hands. He thought he saw breach of
promise in your eye, all right, a minute
ago!"
"Breach of promise suits are for people
who have money to pay 1-lawyers," she
quavered, dabbing industriously at her
eyes. "My skimpy savings would never
reach around one, especially after this
trip. — Oh, it is funny, after all, isn't it?"
She suddenly burst into a tremulous little
laugh. "Just to think of my blubbering
here like a baby, instead of thanking my
lucky stars for my escape! Suppose I'd
married him! That would have been
the real tragedy!"
"Well, you're about the gamest little
woman I ever saw!" remarked Bryson,
fixing her with a steady, thoughtful look
under which she felt herself flushing un-
comfortably.
"Game? No, if I'd been really game,
I'd have stayed in Chicago and faced it
out. I — I'm ashamed to think how badly
I've behaved on this trip. And you've
been so good to me, Mr. Bryson! It sort
of took the bad taste out of my mouth
to find one man too big and fine ever to
play the sneak or the cad. I — I shan't
forget it, I can tell you, when I get back
to Chicago."
"You aren't going at once?" he asked
quickly.
"By the very first boat. Oh, it won't
be so bad." She fetched an heroic smile.
"People will finally forget."
"Why go back at once?" he objected,
after a pause, clearing his throat im-
patiently to gain better control of his
voice. "It's hideous to think of your
facing the torture alone. Why not travel
around awhile and get your bearings, and
then go back with me — as my wife? I — I
wish you'd consider it, Miss Shirley, I
really do!"
Shirley shrank into her corner of the
cab, the hot blood mounting her face and
neck, her pulses in a tumult.
"I know you speak out of the goodness
and generosity of your heart," she said,
when she could speak, "so I'm not going
to be offended. But go home, Mr. Bryson,,
and think no more about me until you can
864
A WEDDING TRIP FOR ONE
forget your pity for me. Then you'll
be grateful to me for not taking advantage
of your kindness."
"I haven't made you understand!" he
exclaimed in a tone of self -disgust, leaning
I need?
it\ , i
"/ would let him live — if I were you"
toward her, his face tense with earnestness.
"D'ye think I could be such a cad as to
offer you pity at this time? Besides, it
doesn't cut any figure in my offer. I'm
thinking chiefly of myself. On the boat,
while I still supposed you to be a married
woman, I began to discover how much I
cared — and it hurt. I know I'm a great
club-footed blunderer to let it pop out
like that, but isn't it human for a fellow
to want to do something when he sees
the woman he loves up against it?"
"I understand now; and — and appreciate
it," faltered Shirley, adjusting her mental
balance with a strong hand. "But don't
you see, that's not the kind of comfort
I must go back there at once,
and take the pitying gossip and
the jeers and thrive on them.
It's the only way to get back
my self-respect. What I need
now is not a husband, but a
friend."
"And you have him right
here. If that's how you feel
about it, Miss Shirley, I'll never
mention the other thing to you
as long as — you want to keep an
embargo on it. Will you shake
on the friendship business?"
Slowly she put out her hand.
As he wrung it, the taxi drew
up at the Windsor and the door
flew open. After helping her
out, he bent down to look up
into her face and ask anxiously :
"By the way, if I should meet
Sellars, I don't know whether
to hasten his exit from this vale
of tears, or merely to kick him
off the street. Suppose the day '11 ever
come when I'll want to thank him — for
anything?"
For the life of her she could not suppress
a tremulous note of laughter, as she whis-
pered: "I'd let him live— if I were you."
I
ISLAND OF
PEACE
h
Stria rt B' Stone
EACE," murmured the Fin-
nish military attache,
shifting his toy of a
sword.
"Peace . . . world-
peace," buzzed the
South African vice-
admiral, with a tug at
his gilded war-frazzling.
"Peace . . . peace . . . peace," droned
ambassador, charge d'affaires, humani-
tarian, under-secret ary, minister pleni-
potentiary. The pauses, the breaks in
the hum were punctuated oddly by clank
and clatter of cold steel.
Old General von Bernstorff bowed his
purplish, apoplectic face until his crisp,
white mustache almost profaned the deli-
cate cheek of the Directress of the De-
partment of Civic Beautification.
"Peace is a rainbow," cackled the old
gallant. "Look— ere it fade.".
Anna Sartoris followed his airy gesture.
In the luxurious leather armchairs in the
council hall of the Brockenvelt Founda-
tion in Washington lolled the scarlet
and gold of Iberia, the blue of France,
the bright green of Carpathia, sheen of
gilt, shimmer of tassel and scabbard.
The girl did not smile. Her ripe lips were
compressed painfully.
"Don't laugh," she pleaded. "How can
you at such a moment? I'm all a-tremble
— almost afraid."
The veteran of Folkestone eyed her
whimsically. "Listen. A few bars of
such metallic music will frighten the dove
of peace from our midst forever — "
He was interrupted by the sharp tattoo
of the gavel. The chairman arose. He
was unwontedly pale, this little, iron
man of affairs.
"I request your undivided attention,"
he began. "I need not dwell upon the
vitalness of the matter in hand. Mr.
Gates, president of the Universal Peace
Propaganda, will give us in detail his final
proposal."
From the richly-carved, massive table
in the center of the. circular chamber, a
young man arose. A single calm, im-
perious glance checked the swish of
whispering. His face was grave, lined,
kindly. His tones were rarely incisive,
yet oddly magnetic.
"There is no change in the tenor of
the Propaganda's proposal. It is — in a
word — lasting world-peace to be accom-
plished through the Foundation's pur-
chase and destruction of the navies of
the earth. The power is yours. The
report of your treasurer just read shows
that the original Brockenvelt bequest
of three hundred million dollars, aug-
mented by the splendid gifts, of later
philanthropists and magnified by the
judicious investments of the directorate,
has resulted in a ftind computed in bil-
lions. The Foundation influences — nay,
I speak plainly — controls practically the
commerce, industry, diplomacy and state-
craft of the world. The ruling idea of
your founder was that the directors should
be left absolutely unfettered to administer
unto the future as the future would be
ministered unto. There remains then
but the one question of advisability.
What is the greatest benefaction the
foundation may render unto the world?
What single achievement, though ac-
complished decades after his death, would
inscribe the name of Brockenvelt on
Fame's golden scroll as the greatest human
benefactor? It is world-peace."
General von Bernstorff, fidgeting rest-
lessly, grew rigid at a turn of Dyke Gates'
prematurely-gray head.
"General von Bernstorff, you have a
suggestion?"
The old war-dog, sullen for a moment,
rose with a military click. "God of
battles— yes!" he blurted. "The uniform
(865)
866
THE ISLAND OF PEACE
I've worn these forty years — the un-
numbered thousands of good and brave
men to be thrown out of employment
and all aim in life by this fantastic
dream "
The peace-president broke in. "A
million good and brave men released from
the steel bonds of a profession of death
and destruction, diverted into channels
of useful productiveness, made into bread-
winners and croft-builders. What else?"
Old Bernstorff sank stubbornly into
his chair. A swarthy, fezzed figure in
the rear of the chamber arose.
"The plan — it is good. Always I have
so favored the disarmaments. , But why
is it — to destroy — sink down — blow up —
such ships, great moneys, into ocean. I
understand not —
Again Gates interrupted. "The modern
battleship, designed solely to destroy
and defend, is incapable of conversion
for any useful peaceful purpose. When
removed from the fighting line it is valu-
able only as scrap steel. The cost of
demolishing, transporting, re-forging
would hardly justify the expense. My
plan is simpler, surer, more profoundly
impressive. The pressure of a button,
the thrum of the wireless, and the armadas
of the earth settle beneath the waters of
Amity Bay."
A Prussian naval lieutenant, one of a
knot of a dozen grouped immediately
behind Gates, sprang up. "I suggest,"
he said, "that, despite the prodigious
sum to be expended by the Foundation,
there is no money really lost, save the
mere cost of the iron and steel. The
hoarded moneys of the Foundation thus
released will be sufficient almost to dis-
charge the national debts of the powers.
The money will re-circulate immediately,
furnishing the impetus for tremendous
industrial development. The cost of all
government will be reduced enormously;
taxes will cease to be a burden. The
matter of cost, I think, may be eliminated
from the discussion."
The Australian military attache was on
his feet. "One thing you forget," he re-
minded. "The barbarous races, the wild
peoples, they that torture and eat their
fellow-men."
Anna Sartoris half -rose, placing her
hand lightly upon the gilded sleeve of
the diplomat. "We shall win the wild
peoples by deeds of love and charity,"
she said.
Dyke Gates nodded, the first flush of
the evening in his cheeks. "Fortunately
the old world numbers few barbarians
in this enlightened day. But we have
allowed for that. It is proposed to destroy
only the battleships, the larger cruisers,
and the bulk of the aerial craft and sub-
marines. A sufficient number of small
gunboats will be left to police the wild
places. The slight aerial and submarine
force preserved will be insufficient unaided
by the main line of battle to cause appre-
hension of international trouble."
Gates took his seat amid a silence tense
and painful until the chairman rapped
for attention.
"You have heard," he said. "Most
of you are already aware that the director-
ate of the Foundation has practically
unanimously approved the plan of the
Propaganda. The ministries of the prin-
cipal powers also have consented. Under
the terms of the treaty, about to be sub-
mitted, the nations agree to build no more
fighting ships, to disband their naval
establishments with the exception of
the mosquito fleets, to decrease their
armies to the dimensions of mere con-
stabulary forces, and to arbitrate all
international matters of dispute. Has
everyone been heard?"
A low growl from old Bernstorff was
the only response. "There remains but
the outline of the plan of action," con-
tinued the chairman.
Dyke Gates arose again. This time
there was a click to his heels suggestive
of the growling Bernstorff. "This is the
plan," he announced. "On a date to be
announced within the next few weeks the
navies of the world will rendezvous at
Amity Island in the South Pacific. Crews
barely adequate to navigate the vessels
thither will be carried. A great fleet
of liners will go empty for the purpose of
transporting the assemblage back to the
mainland. A marble memorial, artistically
befitting its great purpose, will be erected
on the island. There amid appropriate
exercises the current will be released to
destroy the world's battle-line. Every
THE ISLAND OF PEACE
8G7
detail will be announced as soon as pos-
sible."
As Gates took his seat, the secretary
of the Foundation began to call the roll
of the nations. One by one the accredited
representatives of the powers approached
the table and affixed their signatures.
At the call of the Austro-Germanic Con-
federation, old Bernstorff, scowling pro-
digiously, stalked to the table and sprawled
his long name. A perfunctory motion to
adjourn carried and the assemblage filed
out silently.
Dyke Gates lingered. Anna Sartoris,
the Directress, was placing the pen used
by the treaty-signers in a recess of her
flowing, wide-sleeved purple robe.
"An ode, Madam Directress," he said
lightly. "Surely the occasion will justify
one of your rhythmic measures. 'The
Song of the Brockenvelt Rocks,' say."
For the second time that evening she
asked a man not to laugh. Her own rich
notes trembled slightly. "Brockenvelt
is the world's creditor. His magnificent
bequest made this thing possible. But
yours is the idea. I've been thinking —
I don't know. If I can find the words,
I — I'll sing mainly the greatness of Dyke
Gates."
He went disconcertingly pale. "Ah,"
he cried, "an ode — write me a latter-day
ode of the man and the idea, of lasting
fame, of power "
"Of power?" she echoed, vaguely
puzzled.
"Aye, power, my captain!" responded
a deep voice. They both turned to ob-
serve Kolb, the Prussian lieutenant, in
the shadow. Gates frowned.
"Lieutenant, you have orders to exe-
cute."
The big German saluted half-airily
and withdrew. The Directress, clutching
the precious penstaff, drew her classic
robes about her. The high-keyed ten-
sion, the tremendous enthusiasms of the
evening had gone from her. She felt
oppressed, uneasy, over-strained. "Why
does he salute you?" she asked, almost
petulantly. "Why do you give orders?
Why do you have such incongruous
members in a peace propaganda?"
He laughed with his old kindly magnet-
ism. "Don't mind Kolb. He couldn't
bid his grandmother farewell without
saluting. When the day comes, we'll
put old Kolb to plowing, or preaching.
Remember — the ode."
"I— I don't know," she faltered. "Good-
bye."
Anna Sartoris, entrusted with the
preparation of the program for the exer-
cises attendant upon the engulfing of
the fleets, temporarily relinquished her
work of civic adornment to a subordinate.
Accustomed to handling enterprises of
vast scope, she felt an almost utter in-
capability for her task. To President
Navarrez of the Iberian States she as-
signed the opening 'address on "Millennial
Dawn." The proceedings were to begin
with a prayer by Pope Leo XVII and to
close with an invocation by Ito Ko Shan,
the Buddhist scholar. Madame Gormelli
of the National Theatre was to sing "O,
Bird of Peace!" with a thousand- voiced
chorus of all nations for the refrain.
"It's writing history — world-history. It's
hardly a woman's work," she complained
to Gates when he came to exhibit Jean
Paul Laudanne's design for the stately
onyx and marble peace memorial to be
erected on Amity Island.
He laughed down her doubts. Since
the signing of the treaty he was given more
to laughing, she had noticed. When she
insisted that his own bas-relief adorn a
panel of the temple, he declined the honor
absolutely.
"You are too modest," she urged. "It
isn't a matter of personal preference.
This is your work, your masterly achieve-
ment. You have no right to refuse."
"I have no rightful place thereon. If
I have consummated a world-achieve-
ment, let me not perform a world- jest."
He spoke roughly, bitterly. He left her
hurt and wondering.
The preparation for the coming event
threw them together constantly. Her
own private suite in the splendid domed
palace of the Foundation was quite near
the quarters assigned the Peace Propa-
ganda. He consulted her daily on matters
of strange portent to a woman — of the
time for the sailing of the Chinese squadron
from Pichili, of the reluctance of the
Italian republic to class the Victor Gari-
baldi as a fighting ship, of sinister details
THE ISLAND OF PEACE
of lyddite, kilowatts, armor belts, fight-
ing tops and magazine hoists. She sur-
prised him with her technical knowledge
of such matters. He could not know that
since the signing of the treaty she had
spent hours nightly in the study of arms
and armaments.
Her eager enthusiasm merged gradually
into a set, implicit belief in the absolute
sanctity of the enterprise, a viewpoint
he seemed rather to combat. At times
he appeared to waver, to doubt his own
handiwork. The ode he had insisted
upon had now no charm for him. Lines
here and there hinting his praise and
glory he hurt her infinitely by command-
ing her to omit. His conduct puzzled
her, rendered her increasingly uneasy.
Before the signing of the treaty he had
been a model of unflagging, never vary-
ing determination. Now he would tumble
from a wildly exultant mood, oddly tinged
with near-egotism and tendernesses which
brought flushes into her cheek, to fits
and spells of silence wherein he would
seem almost to regret the great mission.
The headquarters of the Propaganda
gleamed with an incongruous display
of the war-colors of the nations. Stolid
Prussian lieutenants, sprightly French
captains of chausseurs, melancholy Chilean
commandantes thronged his rooms. On
one occasion, standing unobserved in
the shadow of the hallway, she witnessed
the leave-taking of Lieutenant Kolb,
about to sail for Kiel.
"I understand, my captain," the lieu-
tenant was saying, "the signal of last
resort is — ". The lieutenant leaned
forward, whispering.
Gates nodded.
"Here's hoping we may never use it,"
said Kolb, and strode off.
Later, poring over a chart of the little-
known Amity Island while awaiting Dyke
Gates in his office, she read, mechanically
the open pages of a note-book:
"Admire H. M. S. Magnificent.
Adore U. S. S. Oklahoma.
Aim Command Beach.
Alter Prinzessen Carlotta Maria."
"Why should a peace society have a
code-book of warships and military de-
tails?" she asked upon his return.
"Why not?" he parried gravely. "The
cable companies give us no reduced rate.
With what has a peace society to deal
if not with military detail?"
Next day the press dispatches announced
the first sailings of the remoter fleets —
the British, Scandinavian, French and
Iberian squadrons. Within a few days
every armored vessel of fighting preten-
sions had cleared for the island rendez-
vous. The leviathanic cruisers of the
Venezia type, incomplete in the Spezzia
yards, were towed. Scores of other vessels
in more or less advanced stages of com-
pletion or repair were towed similarly
from Clyde, Fore River, Yokohama,
Kiel and the LaPlatte. The seven seas
swarmed with the gray and drab steel
monsters running up to fifty thousand
tons' displacement. Huge smokeless,
electric-propelled passenger liners ac-
companied the war-dogs for the purpose
of bringing home the meager crews.
Marines, blue-jackets and gun crews
mainly were left behind, turned adrift
into the unfamiliar ways of civilian life.
The aircraft were carried on the decks of
the larger ships.
A luxurious aerial special carried the
members of the official party from Wash-
ington. The President of Federated
North America, the Vice-President, the
fourteen members of the cabinet, the
chairman and directorate of the Founda-
tion, the accredited representatives of
twenty-nine powers, poets and singers
assisting in the program, and Anna
Sartoris. Dyke Gates and the executive
board of the Peace Propaganda had gone
before.
Whirring over the boundless southern
seas in the vicinity of the island, the
party beheld far below long lines of
majestic ships plowing steadily south-
ward, splendidly oblivious to their im-
pending doom. Swift scout cruisers,
speeding at more than forty-five knots,
appeared to float idly upon the face of
the gray-blue waters. The passengers
gazed awesomely down from the glazed
observation-windows of the aerial liner.
Most of them had strutted in gold harness
all their lives.
"It's like attending a royal funeral,"
muttered the Russian ambassador.
"It's like waiting on the combined
funeral of all the kings of the earth,"
THE ISLAND OF PEACE
869
growled old Bernstorff. He turned quickly
at a light touch upon his arm.
"It is indeed a royal burial," whispered
Anna Sartoris, "a burial of international
hate and envy and discord, General.
If— if only—
"If what, my dear?" prompted the
veteran, wonderfully mollified.
She turned away with a sigh. The
unrealness of it all bore upon her. The
inconceivable sublimity and audacity of
the idea, the strange spectacle of the
doomed armadas underneath. She seemed
to dream. Where was Dyke Gates? Where
in that vast expanse of sunlit, spice-laden
sea was his uniformed, spurred and booted
company of peace propagandists?
Another hour of swift, silent flight
brought them to the island. Jutting out
of the warm, tranquil waters to a height
of fourteen hundred feet, flanked with
a tropical extra vagnace of spike and frond,
the speck of land elicited an involuntary
gasp of admiration from those on board
the aircraft. In the landlocked harbor
worthy of Rio Janeiro, at this distance
appearing like beetles drowsing in a pan,
the armada of the nations lay. Half
a thousand monsters of war floated idly
at anchor — grim, gray thunderers from
the Clyde, squat, broad-nosed German
craft, trim, white Australian cruisers.
From their mastheads fluttered the war-
spectrum of the nations — the seventy-
starred American emblem, the blue cross
of Muscovy, Argentine's mystic sun-face,
the tri-color of France, the spitting dragons
and crimson sun-balls of the unchanging
East. Crowning a slight eminence above
the harbor was the marble and onyx
peace memorial, its domes and minarets
in odd, white relief against the background
of Edenic verdure. Upon the sloping
beach hundreds of seamen strolled — tur-
baned, fezzed, jacketed, tunic-clad. As
the airship passed over the harbor a jar-
ring medley of martial music floated up
to them — Die Wacht am Rhein, God Save
the King, La Marseillaise, thumpings
of tom-toms, the shrill skirl of bagpipes,
the clamor of brass. Far beyond, in the
wooded heart of the island, Anna Sartoris
discerned a break in the thick tangle of
vegetation, a long irregular line of some-
thing vaguelyjwhite.
The liner slowed down, landing easily
upon the beach. The diplomats alighted,
glad of the opportunity to stretch their
cramped limbs. The Directress gazed
about the unreal scene. Nowhere showed
a familiar face or sight. It was as though
she had been set down in a Seventeenth
Century pirate rendezvous or a modern,
exhibition-made Streets-of -Cairo. Her
head almost reeled. She must think. She
must get to herself. Behind the splendid
peace memorial a forest of palms and
mangrove promised cool and fragrant
seclusion. She hurried in that direction.
Within the forest's shadow the jarring
impression of the motley congregation
gave way to a feeling of delicious intoxica-
tion. Gnarled and twisting vines, thick
as a man's leg, crossed the narrow path.
Sweet, faint aromas of the world's hot
girdle wafted to her delicate nostrils.
Petals bright as the coat of Joseph brushed
her cheek. Gaudy parroquets and cocka-
toos, nature-painted birds she had seen
only in zoological gardens, chattered and
scolded. She walked on and on, giving
no thought to lurking danger overhead
or underfoot. The exercises were scheduled
for the late afternoon. It must be now
about eleven o'clock. The forest was
restful, sense-stealing, alluring. Here was
peace, good-will toward men. It was
relief, thrice-blessed.
She had walked she knew not how long
when the path took a sudden dip, a sharp
turn and ended. She found herself look-
ing out upon an unexpected clearing in
the jungle. For an instant, she thought
she must dream again. She rubbed her
dazed eyes, pinching herself. She did
not dream. Spread out for her wonder-
ing inspection was a long line of low,
frame, barrack-like buildings. To the
extreme right she beheld a mountain
of stacked coal and beyond that .a row of
shaft-houses with their inclined planes
and somber smoke-stacks. Here and
there trim khaki-clad pickets walked.
A sudden clatter of conversation caused
her to shrink back in the shadow. Two
of the guards almost brushed her as they
passed. They were jesting roughly of
some dereliction of duty. She waited
until they passed, then proceeded to skirt
the clearing. A painful hundred yards
870
THE ISLAND OF PEACE
ahead and she came upon a shed of mam-
moth dimensions. Numbers of square,
wooden boxes were stacked before it. By
their markings she knew them to contain
ammunition. She proceeded toilsomely
and guardedly, to discover a vast frame
shop -building containing machinery and
a cluster of buildings evidently intended
for officers' quarters. The clearing ex-
tended into the distance in a series of
what she realized must be plantations.
The mangrove forest held quarters
and maintenance for an army. Why?
How was it that he, who had acquainted
her with every minute detail of prepara-
tion, had not spoken of these things?
Did he know of them hinself ? She leaned
against a thick trunk and thought. To-
day the island held a great crowd to be
fed, it was true; but the ships in th'e
harbor had brought abundant food. They
were to embark upon the passenger liners
before night. The assemblage upon the
beach would not require such extensive
provision. Then the ammunition —
brought from the doomed vessels probably.
But no, the compact was that guns and
projectiles were to go down with the
ships. And the coal, and the repair shops?
She put her hand to her fevered forehead
and groaned aloud, for the moment
oblivious to all danger of discovery. The
spice-scented breeze caught her rich,
red-brown hair, loosened from contact
with the sharp fronds, and sent it stream-
ing. Vague premonitions, chance words,
the strange code of the Propaganda,
Kolb's remark about the signal of last
resort — these things flashed across her
heated brain.
The stir of an approaching sentinel
aroused her. She glanced overhead. The
sun was far to the westward. She must
get back to the peace memorial on the
beach. Somehow it seemed that some
unfathomable, unearthly danger awaited
the motley throng.
She turned and began to retrace her
way through the stubborn foliage. The
return of the pickets forced her farther
into the forest. Stung into frenzy by the
feeling that she alone among those who
had come on the airship knew of the
existence of a permanent military depot
on the island, she struggled through the
dense growth, at first hardly noting her
direction in the intensity of her purpose
to get forward, to be in time — in time.
After a few minutes of this aimless prog-
ress, she desisted, endeavoring to get
her bearings. The path should have been
about here. No, it was at the. foot of
the slope. She retraced her steps hurriedly,
took another observation, then realized
that she was lost.
"God of nations!" she moaned. "Give
me strength — wit — time!" Springing up,
she located the receding sun and proceeded
to beat her way steadily northward. Here
and there she was forced to detour to
avoid some impenetrable thicket or im-
passable gully. Once a bright, gaudy
something squirmed and hissed in the
grass at her feet. Another time she
touched a bough that moved clammily
away. An hour passed — two — three — an
age — an eon. Through it all the prayer
thrummed in her mind — "Strength — wit
— time, time, time!" Time for what?
She did not know. Her head began to
swim. She heard faint music — dim, sweet,
heavenly harmonies. Now she knew
she must dream. "Jehovah, Lord God,
who holdeth the nations in his hand —
The fourth number of the program! No,
no, she did not dream. It was the 179th
Regiment Band. The exercises had com-
menced. She had stumbled upon the
edge of the forest. Breathlessly she ran
down the slope and out upon the crowded
plain. Before the peace memorial the
solemn mob surged. Madame Jomelli's
golden tones were filling the tropic air
with the first notes of "0 Bird of Peace."
On the sun-kissed waters of the great
harbor, the international armada, aug-
mented since the morning, lay deserted,
awaiting the thundering doom. Then
she must be in time. In time — in time
for what?
Desperately she sought the man, the
one man whose great will and force had
made the strange scene possible, the one
man who could prevail at such a moment.
In the sea of strange-garbed heads she
could not find him. She bumped into
old Bernstorff, redder than ever in the
fierce heat of nine degrees south.
"Dyke — Mr. Gates — where is he?" she
demanded.
THE ISLAND OF PEACE
871
"Sh-h-h-h!" cautioned the old veteran.
"Don't miss this song. It's the only
good thing about this dam — er — this
abominable business. Why — what's up?"
Someone plucked at her sleeve. It
was Lieutenant Kolb, still harnessed in
the bright tints of war.
"Mr. Gates desires to see you immedi-
ately— come."
He conducted her along the outskirts
of the crowd to a low, rough shed at the
water's edge. Kolb opened the door,
almost shoving her inside. He did not
enter. Inside, Dyke Gates was peering
through a slit to observe the exercises.
The shed was filled with strange me-
chanical appliances, a jumble of wires,
levers and armatures. Gates turned
upon her. There was that upon his face
which she had not seen before — a fierce
triumph, mastery, exaltation, something
that checked her hot words. He was
first to speak.
"I've been searching vainly for you.
Your absence has caused the only hitch
in — in what's happening."
Suddenly she found words. "In the
forest — back there, Dyke — I saw coal
mines, powder, machinery, quarters for
an army — why
He nodded gravely. "They are mine —
though my pickets must have been care-
less. All this is mine, too." He made
a sweeping gesture toward the armada
in the bay. "I have outwitted the di-
plomacy of the earth. I've trapped her
mailed fist. I rule the old globe. She's
mine, every sea and continent."
She shrank back, doubting his mind's
balance. He sensed her fears and smiled
reassuringly.
"I'm not mad, either," he explained.
"The big-wigs and minor poets yonder
have a precious button and a tangle of
machinery they'll unloosen after a bit.
It's been inspected and O.K.'d. They
imagine they are going to destroy those
war-dogs frowning out there. Unfor-
tunately there's one false line in the
chain. The real connection is here."
He indicated his machinery.
"There isn't a living soul in all that
great fleet, save on one ship. You see the
'Manitoba,' the double-turreted battle-
ship next the landing? She commands
the beach. No one can embark without
the consent of her big guns. On board
the 'Manitoba' are the leading spirits
of the Propaganda. You've remarked
their military qualities heretofore. With
them are enough picked tried men, them-
selves mainly ignorant of just what's
up, to man the guns of the line nearest
the shore. From the mob up there we
can force enough recruits to serve our
temporary purposes."
"But why — why have you not told me
all this?" she demanded. "It is monstrous
— impossible — insane ! ' '
He leaned forward impulsively. "I
could not tell even you; I haven't time
now. But it's to rule the wide world —
with you as queen, empress or whatever
pretty title you fancy. With that in-
vincible armada at my beck and call,
from this paradise isle I can destroy the
shipyards of the earth, levy tribute upon
its ports. There'll be no bloodshed. I
simply compel, overawe. It's a dream
greater than Alexander's — beyond the
imagination of Genghis Khan — too vast
for the brain of Napoleon. They dreamed
of world-conquest. I have conquered."
"God in Heaven!" she cried. "You
would take upon yourself the powers of
the Almighty!"
The thousand voices of the international
chorus singing came through the rough
slits. He examined his watch. "Listen,"
he commanded. "There's no time for
explanations, for pleadings. I'm no
colossal criminal, no monster. I'm fit —
with your aid — fitter far than those out
there for world-government. My dream,
too, is of peace. It's already mainly
accomplished. But I go further. With
your help I dominate the world — force
its beautification and uplift — dictate the
policies of the nations for their own good,
for the good of the seething masses out
beyond that great blue rim. Don't you
see — see? You must see!"
His clutch upon her arm tightened
until she gasped in pain. The mighty
chorus died out. The President of the
North American Federation began to
quote from the Apocalypse. The throng
turned toward the sea.
"When the President finishes — ' she
muttered.
872
THE ISLAND OF PEACE
"When the President finishes the world
begins a new era — the age of Gates," he
completed. "No time now for explana-
tions. Afterward you will understand."
He stepped toward a nickeled lever.
The movement turned his back to her for
an instant. The prayer of the forest
rang in her ears. "To be in time — in
time — in time!" She threw her strong,
lithe frame upon him. The folds of her
long, purple robe she had ready to choke,
to strangle. It was not necessary. The
weight of the unexpected attack bore
him down. His forehead struck against
a coil of the dynamo. He lay quite still.
For a second, she felt that she was
fainting, then she rallied and hurriedly
examined the maze of wires and levers.
A push-button in the wall almost grazed
her shoulder. It must be the explosion-
release. She started to press the button,
then drew back. Those men on the
"Manitoba" — to encompass hundreds of
deaths! No, she could not. She put her
hand to her forehead and thought. In
another minute the man on the floor
would awaken. He would conquer her,
she knew. Better, then, the swift, minor
tragedy of the "Manitoba" than this
impending enslavement of the whole
world. She put forward her trim finger,
wavered an instant, then pressed the
button. She slapped her fingers to her
ears, expecting, dreading the roar of the
heavens rended. But nothing happened.
The ships in the sunlit bay still floated
easily. Yet something was happening
aboard the "Manitoba." Ah, the airships.
They were deserting the "Manitoba."
The button she had pressed had been the
signal of last resort, the sign that the
scheme had failed. Thank Godl There
would be no blood upon her hands. Now
if she could but find the appliance to
accomplish the explosion. Ah, God of
nations! A slight noise at her elbow
diverted her attention. Dyke Gates was
upon his feet again.
"What is it?" he muttered, blinking
dazedly through the window at the mount-
ing aircraft. "What's happened?" Me-
chanically he reached forward to reverse
the nickelled lever.
She arrested the extended arm. "No —
no — no," she pleaded sobbingly. "Don't
do that! For me — for me — for my sake —
that your name may be blessed forever
by those up there!"
Gates hesitated, one hand upon his
throbbing head. The ascending line of
aeroplanes came steadily on. Kolb had
opened the door and stood upon the
threshold anathematizing all women. She
scanned the walls hurriedly.
"Where — where is the explosion-release?"
He had both hands to his bleeding brow.
"Behind you," he groaned.
She sprang at the indicated button.
Next instant she was flat upon the floor
across the sprawling forms of Gates and
the Prussian lieutenant. Her head ached
thumpingly. She would never, never
hear again. Through the seaward window
she saw that the sun had gone from the
leaden sky. The world flamed. The
harbor had risen. The firmament rained
smoke, spars, foam, hulks, guns, solid
steel. She looked up the hill at the throng
before the peace memorial. They were
upon their knees. Ito Ko Shan, the
Buddhist, was offering his invocation just
as called for by the program. They had
never known.
"Thank God," she murmured, "for
peace that passeth all understanding!"
She turned at a slight touch upon her
sleeve. A man, limp, sprawling, bleeding,
yet smiling, extended his hand.
"Not my name on the fair roll — but
yours," he said.
She turned and ministered gently unto
him.
THE
MUSICAL SEASON
IN AMERICA
t>y Arthur, Wilson
kHE temper of the audience
at the premiere at Phila-
delphia of Victor Her-
bert's opera in English.
"Natoma," was a feature
of the performance. I
mean the unconscious and
therefore truthful frank-
ness with which it sensed
and reflected the vitality
of what it saw and heard on the stage.
The intangible yet deeply pregnant at-
mosphere or spirit which is created by
and pervades a large audience at a crucial
moment in the performance of a drama is
a striking illustration of brutal and un-
embellished honesty. The mask of so-
phistication is down. Social amenities
are forgotten. Impulse rules, and for
that one instant the hearer reverts to the
elemental state of an honest animal. He
is bored, puzzled or pleased. If he feels
boredom, but is constrained because of
obligation, deference or friendship to
show signs of pleasure, consciousness and
memory will quickly conspire with habit
to replace the social harness, but it is too
late. His mood has been fused with that
of others, here, there, yonder, and it is
instantly the prevailing mood of the au-
dience, as clear and appreciable an appeal
to the senses as is the record of a voice
upon a phonographic plate.
The psychology of the emotional ex-
pression of a large body of people is a
curious, baffling, yet inexorably logical
and withal a highly instructive thing.
The effect of stimuli from the external
world upon the nervous centers is a larger
determining factor in the daily walk and
conversation of men than the prompting
of precept, duty or any other volitional
allegiance. It is the subconscious impulse
which is indicative of true feeling, because
it springs from the inmost sources of life;
therefore it is something elemental,
physical, not denoting commonness in
the sense of vulgarity, but a fundamental
attribute of humanity, just as the roar
that bursts from thirty thousand throats
at a critical moment in a baseball game,
when, by a skillful play, the favored side
scores the winning run, is something more
than a loud noise. It is the spontaneous
expression of tremendously vital feeling.
By their interest in one of the teams, and
in proportion to the intensity of that
interest, the spectators are charged with
a nervous vitality as a dynamo is charged
with electricity. If the climax turns on
a winning play, and that interest is glorified
rather than crucified, the vitality is re-
leased, hence the roar. It is simply the
demonstration of a law of nervous energy,
which is in force as truly in the lyric
theatre as in the sporting arena.
An athletic contest generates nervous
excitement because it involves suspense,
a problem and a sharply defined conflict.
It has wide popular appeal because
dramatic instinct is universal, and it is
the very essence of drama, for drama is
either forceful or feeble in proportion as
it consists of a bitter struggle, leading
through clear, cumulative development to
a powerful climax and at least a plausible
solution. It may be argued that the
arena breeds excitement which is physical
and primitive rather than emotion which
is spiritual and exalted, such as it is the
function of drama to do. The one is but
the refinement and the higher develop-
ment of the other. Both must trace their
origin to the same source. When the
drama loses the fundamental principle
of the games — namely, that of stern and
(873)
874
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
relentless conflict, then the dramatist
should make the arena his laboratory.
He is losing sight of the primal nature
of man, to which he must, at least in some
degree, appeal, for no matter how deep
the veneer inlaid by habit and social
environment, that elemental nature will
endure, and from it powerful emotions
will continue to spring as long as blood
is blood and nerve is nerve.
If then, the world over, the spectacle
of a struggle strikes deeply through the
attention, into the interest, even to the
emotions of normal men and women,
whether it be that of a gladiator and a
wild beast, a wrestler and his mate, two
league champions on the diamond, or
Macbeth and his fate upon the stage,
let us examine the inherent qualities of
the libretto which Mr. Redding wrote
for Mr. Herbert's opera, and notice its
effect upon the audience, not after Mr.
Herbert's friends were minded to think
of him and his music, but during the first
seconds which followed the curtain upon
particularly the first and second acts.
First, what of the story? The first act
takes place on the island of Santa Cruz,
two hours' sail from the mainland. The
second and third acts are laid in the town
of Santa Barbara on the mainland. The
time is fixed at 1820, under the Spanish
regime. Natoma is an Indian maiden,
the daughter of a chieftain and the last
of her race — they always are on the stage.
She is the slave and childhood's com-
panion of Barbara, the beautiful daughter
of a Spanish gentleman, Francisco. Na-
toma loves Barbara as do certain ethers.
The first of these is her cousin, one Don
Juan Bauptistta Alvarado, who, according
to the Century Magazine (volume 41,
1890-91, page 470) was His Excellency,
the Constitutional Governor of the Cali-
fornias and Monterey, but according to
the libretto is merely a dashing, adventur-
ous and amorous Spaniard. Barbara
rejects him once in the first act, and again
for all time in the second.
One shrewdly suspects that it will be
the business of the be-titled Alvarado to
hatch and perpetrate plots for the dis-
comfort and annoyance of some more
faVored suitor, who is soon found in the
person of Paul Merrill, a handsome young
lieutenant in the United States Navy
whose vessel is anchored nearby. Being
the accepted lover, he is necessarily the
principal tenor of the opera. There is
also a half-breed, Castro, who aspired,
with Natoma once his, to restore the glory
of their decadent race, but she scorns him.
Since he is a minion of Alvarado, one
again shrewdly suspects that together
the two will concoct the necessary mis-
chief to keep the play running smoothly.
These are the chief personages. In
the first act Natoma is seen showing Paul
about the island. He rather fancies her.
She, in her naive simplicity, is seized by a
passion for him, a devotion as absolute
as the fidelity of a dog. She tells him
that Barbara is coming home from school
and that he will love her. Barbara does
return from the convent. She and Paul
look into each other's eyes, and the orches-
tra begins straightway to play the love
theme. Alvarado sings a serenade, makes
his proposal and is rejected. He and Castro
exhibit the dauntless courage of their
several races, also their love of vengeance
by plotting to abduct Barbara on the
following day from the festivities on the
mainland in celebration of her return
home, and her coming of age. At this
occasion the townspeople of Santa Barbara
and of the surrounding countryside and
the troops from Lieutenant Merrill's
ship would all be present, that the daring
of the conspirators in whisking the girl
away bodily from the midst of such a
sprinkling of friends might be the more
illustrious.
Natoma, who was secreted near, within
an arlpor at a well, overhears this gentle
scheme, and putting her vase upon her
left shoulder, walks slowly, very slowly,
diagonally across the stage and off at
the rear. This walk up stage as it was done
by Mary Garden, who created the part,
was one of the memorable moments of
the opera. The gliding, panther-like
movements of her hips, and the gliding,
panther-like movements of her feet as she
drew them along, close to the earth, were
sinister with a meaning which boded no
good for Alvarado. Then the stage is
cleared and the shades deepen for Barbara,
who sings "good-night" to her father — a
most amenable parent, who objects neither
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
875
THE "BIG QUARTET" THAT PRODUCED " NATOMA"
The American grand opera that had its first production on any stage in Philadelphia on February 2o. From left
to right: Joseph D. Redding, who wrote the libretto; Andreas Dippel, general manager of the Philadelphia- Chicago
Grand Opera Company; Cleofonte Campanini, general musical director of the Philadelphia- Chicago Grand
Opera Company, and Victor Herbert, composer of "Natoma"
to her remaining out to contract a cold
in the starlight, any more than to her
choice of a lover. But the love duet must
be sung, so she begins it, alone, like Juliet,
and like Romeo, Paul arrives, overhears,
and the compact is sealed. When they
are enarmed, a light is seen moving in
Barbara's house. It presently stops, and
in its pale reflection is seen the face of
Natoma looking upon them as though
suffering, but with stoical endurance.
Thus the curtain falls.
The second act is the scene ot the
festival. There is pageantry and there is
dancing and singing. When all have
gathered and Barbara and her father have
entered triumphantly upon horses, Al-
varado proposes that she dance with him
the minuet which her mother had taught
her. She complies, and rejects him for the
second time when he throws his hat upon
the ground, and she refuses to pick it up
and place it on her head, which would have
been a sign of acceptance had she done so.
Castro now sticks his dagger in the'
ground with much bravado, and challenges
all comers to a dagger dance, a form of
amusement which Mr. Redding is said
to have found existing among the in-
habitants of the mountains of California.
Natoma, with an ominous air, walks for-
ward and plants her dagger beside that
of Castro, and the two begin to circle
about the blades with lithe, crouching
and -menacing movements. As Alvarado
and Castro appear about to begin to snatch
their prey from her father's side, Natoma
seizes her dagger and plunges it into Al-
varado. Castro is about to exterminate
her, when Lieutenant Merrill intervenes.
The populace is now supposed to prosecute
vengeance upon her which the sailors from
the vessel endeavor to prevent, a situa-
tion not made altogether graphic at the
first performance. At that movement
the doors of the mission at the rear of the
stage swing open. A priest appears, raises
his hands and calls: "Hold! hold! Nomine
Chris ti!" The crowd is awed into silence,
and waits motionless. Natoma slowly
walks toward the mission and disappears
within. Its doors close. The curtain falls.
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THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
The third act reveals Natoma within
the mission. She has a song of disordered
fancy in which the thought of motherhood
seems to prey upon her mind, as the sleep-
chasings of a fevered and deranged brain.
In its apparent intent to create a fore-
boding, this number is not unlike Des-
demona's "willow" song in Verdi's
"Otello." Then follows a long soliloquy,
which dramatically is the strongest portion
of the work.
In her desolation and semi-delirium
she sings broken rhapsodic utterances of
Paul; she harshly upbraids herself for
having done wrong, for having been false
to herself, to her father's teaching, her
people's faith, in loving this man,- she
calls to the Manitou for mercy; she will
arise and go to her people, and they will
drive the invaders before their wrath'
like thunder, and again possess the land.
She is startled by the priest calling
''Peace" to her. She derides his God;
He holds out Divine help to her. She,
embittered, will admit no need of help.
The priest leads her thought to Barbara,
the one tender chord of her heart, and
urges her acceptance of the ministrations
of the church, Barbara's church, with
the argument that it will make Barbara
happy. She gives her word to accept.
The mission begins to fill with people,
who enter the several pews and are seated,
facing the altar which is to the right of
the audience. Natoma meanwhile stands
immovable by the railing. Paul and
Barbara enter and sit in the foremost
pew. The choir of monks chants a Gre-
gorian hymn. The priest proclaims a text
from the pulpit. Doors open at the side,
a chorus of nuns enters singing. Natoma
descends from the altar and approaches
Barbara. As she does so, Barbara kneels
before her. Natoma takes from her throat
her amulet which had been the fetish of
her religion, and places it over Barbara's
head. Natoma then slowly walks out the
door at which the nuns had entered. The
curtain falls and the story ends.
Stripping these events of embellishment,
this is about what remains: a slave girl,
who loves her mistress, loves the man
who loves and is beloved by her mistress.
Another man who sued for her mistress'
hand has been refused, and plots to run
off with her. The slave stabs him. After
crying out to her Manitou in the belief
that she has done wrong in loving this
white man, the lover of her mistress, and
that in penance she will return to her
people, she is persuaded by a priest to
renounce her religion and receive the
ministrations of the church, because the
priest tells her it will please her mistress.
This is dramatic structure which Mr.
Herbert undertook to clothe with music.
There is the mistress and her lover in
whose avowal of passion and oneness of
soul the librettist requests the interest
of his audience. There also is the wicked
intriguer, Alvarado, whom the librettist
wishes to be held in displeasure. Aside
from fancying a foolhardy undertaking,
he is the finest fellow in the opera. Does
the course of the story compel us to give
it our attention and emotional interest,
unconsciously and without volition, even
though we be not intimate friends of the
librettist, of the composer, or even of
opera in English, or does it not?
Granting that the love interest is
simultaneous on both sides — indeed, Paul
hears Barbara telling the stars that she
loves him before he gets his breath after
running up the hill to say that he loves
her — where are the dramatists' obstacles
set in the way to impede this match, to
emphasize, to place value and distinction
upon it, to enlist the interest and sym-
pathy of the audience in it, even to arouse
the audience with a desire to fight the
lovers' battles for them? Dramatic mo-
tives of that stamp when infused into a
play defy lethargy or indifference. Where,
too, are the cross relationships imposed
by the dramatist upon his principal
characters, which demand an attitude
and course of conduct toward one which
will be unfair, unjust, even perfidy toward
another? Where, besides Alvarado 's
fatuous plot, is there some device to
provoke a sense of apprehension in the
audience?
Let us look for a moment at the plot
of a familiar opera. When Verdi wrote
his "Aida" for Ismail Pacha, the Khedive
of Egypt, he was fortunate in having for
his librettist Mariette Bey, the eminent
French Egyptologist, who, in his research
in "the history of ancient Egypt, had
MARY GARDENIAS "NATOMA" THE INDIAN GIRL
878
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
found "an Incident from which he evolved
the scheme of the plot. Not all men who
make the writing of librettos their avoca-
tion, fare as well. Here are four principal
characters, Aida, Amneris, Rhadames and
Amonasro. Examine for an instant the
relations of each to the other imposed by
the dramatist. The several relationships
of Aida are: to Amneris, that of duty of
slave to mistress; to Rhadames, that of
fidelity to a betrothed husband; to
Amonasro, that of obedience and honor
to a father, and to her own people. Each
of these three relationships is absolutely
irreconcilable with either of the other two.
As slave she is guilty of gross presumption
and infidelity in loving the man who is
beloved by her mistress. As the betrothed
of Rhadames, she is guilty of treachery
in beguiling him into betraying the loca-
tion of his army's camp to a rival general,
and thus bringing everlasting ignominy
upon him. As the daughter of Amonasro,
she is a traitor to him and to her people
whose princess she is, in loving the leader
of the army that has taken her father and
others of her own people captive and has
ravaged her country.
Amneris, as queen, must sanction the
death of the traitor Rhadames, yet as
woman, her love compsls her to plead to
the high priest for his exoneration.
Amneris has held Aida in affectionate
regard, yet she is humiliated to see the
general of her armies pass her by and
prefer the charms of her slave. Amonasro
beholds his daughter in love with his
captor and the despoiler of her own
country and her own people.
Here is a plot in the very essence of the
word, for here are strands of human pas-
sion which cross and recross with con-
flicting and radically opposing interests.
Every moment of the dialogue between
any two of these four characters is fraught
with the deepest dramatic significance.
Even during the imposing pageant of
the triumphal return of Rhadames laden
with the spoils of the war, Verdi does
not halt the progress of his drama. It
may be that to many "Aida" is a hack-
neyed opera. Its power to give pleasure
will often depend upon those who sing
it, and not upon the subtleties or the
craftsmanship of its plot, but it has a
strength . of construction which would
permit it to be acted as a spoken drama,
because in it there are problems which
defy a common solution, conflicts to be
waged in which the emotional interest of
an audience is unconsciously and spon-
taneously enlisted.
Where is there any excitement to be
derived from a cross relationship in the
characters in Natoma? The chief motive
of the drama is inherently weak. It is
a conflict between the slave's sex-love and
her devotion to Barbara. The devotion
of woman to woman is a noble and beau-
tiful spectacle in life but it lacks theatrical
plausibility. It is not a theme to be
expounded on a stage. Furthermore, as
the story of Natoma now stands, this
conflict is kept entirely within the heroine !s
own soul. It may be raging there with
all the fury of the contesting elements,
but if so the audience can only vaguely
guess at the fact. Natoma has disclosed
the depth of her love for Barbara by the
eulogistic account of her mistress which
she gives to Paul, and with a commendable
touch of dramatic irony tells him he will
love her, which, as it presently appears,
he hastens to do.
But what of the love which Natoma
herself feels for Paul? Miss Garden made
it clear that it existed, for when Natoira
first came on with the young officer, she
threw herself on the ground at his feet,
and gazed up in his face in a transport of
adoration as she begged for the mere joy of
serving him. Natoma is not anemic, she
has lived in the open. She is doubtless
capable of passion. The biggest thing
in her life thus far has been her love for
Barbara, but it is the first law of human
existence that the sex-love when it dawns
is triumphant over every other, and yet
from the time that Natoma sees the love
of Paul and Barbara, she does not utter
a word or perform an act that makes her
love convincing to the audience. It may
be argued that she is an Indian and there-
fore stoical, and yet, could there have been
a wildly rebellious moment in which she
had cried out with all the flaming passion
of an elemental soul in bitterness against
the lovers' happiness and against her own
misery, she would have been more clearly
defined, more plausible and more human
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879
as a character. There is within her,
apparently, no trace of resentment or
jealousy against Barbara. It will be
argued that herein lie the beauty, the
pure altruism, the true psychology of the
story, but in the drama there is greater
force in -action, when love, hatred, blood,
violence or some form of sheer compul-
sion is the motive, rather than altruism;
and psychology should be used by the
playwright more in the craftsmanship of
his drama, and less in its theme and
treatment.
The most pronounced and spectacular
piece of business Natoma has, aside from
the dagger-dance which is picturesque,
but merely an interpolation, is her stabbing
Alvarado, an act which springs wholly
from without her sex nature. When she
overheard Alvarado plotting with Castro,
is it improbable that she might not have
been tempted for an instant with the ter-
rible joy of letting them carry out their
scheme, for she had seen the glances
between the lovers, and if Barbara were
out of the way, perhaps he might be won
again.
Natoma's strongest scene as a character
and the strongest scene in the opera is
that of the first part of the third act.
Here one feels the piteous weakness, the
humanness of the woman.
The lyrics here, both of her love lamen-
tation and of her resolve to return to her
tribal life, are the best of the book. Of
course for operatic purposes Natoma
speaks English which is intended to be
as idiomatic and correct as that of Barbara,
just as for operatic purposes Minnie in
"The Girl of the Golden West" will
continue to speak Italian until Mr. Savage
permits her next season to speak English.
But in this soliloquy Natoma has lines
to utter which have dignity, significance
and euphony.
The other place in the drama where
the librettist has sought to make Natoma
express this love conflict was at the con-
clusion of the first act when from the
house she sees the embracing lovers.
The lighting at this juncture was un-
fortunate on the night of the premiere,
for her face, illumined by the candle she
held below, was as ghastly as that of the
returned spirit of Pedro, which, in Raoul
Laparra's "La Habanera," comes to walk
the courtyard of his brother Ramon, and
torment his soul a year after the day
Ramon had murdered him. As skillful
an actress as Miss Garden is in facial
expression, it was beyond her art or that
of anyone to make the situation plausible.
When the curtain fell, people were groping,
mystified, as to what it was all about,
even as they were at the conclusion of
the last act disappointed that there had
not been something which took hold of
them, thrilled them with a big, tangible,
emotional idea. The applause and the
general spirit were desultory, evasive,
except as the appearance of Miss Garden
and the other singers and particularly of
the composer aroused enthusiasm.
vThe conflict of love and friendship
within Natoma's own breast, which is
brought to the very beautiful but very
rare conclusion that friendship wins, is
therefore not sufficiently vital, either in
theme or in development, to grip the
mind or to incite emotion, such, for in-
stance, as does Mr. Belasco's melodramatic,
but inherently stunning game of poker in
"The Girl," in which a woman so perverts
her moral cense that she "stacks" 'the
cards to win her lover's life and her own
happiness.
The element of next importance which
one would expect to afford interest would
be the real love affair. Mention has been
made of the easy time the beatific two, and
Paul in particular, appeared to have of it.
The girl was his without asking. Father
didn't offer a ghost of an objection, or did
he even appear to look up the youngster's
pedigree. Alvarado, Castro, Pico, Ka-
gama and the rest of the mischief -hatching
gang were a double brace of lazy and
negligent laggards, for they never so much
as challenged their rival to a duel. As a
result of these and possibly other more
pertinent omissions Lieutenant Paul
Merrill's chief function appears to be to
sing sentimental ditties, and to wear his
sword gracefully — there, it must not be
forgotten that he uses it once in defence
of Natoma's life, which was indeed a
kindness on the part of the librettist.
As for Miss Barbara don Francisco, her
chief business is to be feted upon attaining
her majority, to wear pretty gowns and
880
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
to reciprocate the affection of Lieutenant
Paul Merrill. Both might have been
borrowed from some harmless musical
comedy; both are about of the same calibre,
JOHN McCORMACK
As Lieutenant Paul Merrill in "Natoma"
therefore it is to be hoped that both were
duly* married.
It is no dramatic fault that Paul and
Barbara love at first sight. Shakespeare
wrote a tragedy in which Romeo was
smitten the moment he looked upon
Juliet at the ball in her father's house,
but he found other ways to excite
interest in the lovers by hemming them
about with such difficulties that the
audience would be aroused to sympathy
and to a desire to themselves aid the pair
in attaining happiness. Unless the feel-
ings of an audience are so played upon,
how shall the members thereof be moved
to swoon with joy when the lovers do
finally possess each other? Emotion is
entirely a matter of relative and not
absolute appreciation, but that is another
matter. It was by no mere accident that
in the first scene of his first act Shakespeare
precipitated upon the public streets a
violent encounter between the Montagues
and the Capulets, beginning with the
scullery boys, or possibly it was the hostlers
of the two rival establishments, and end-
ing by drawing the heads of their respective
houses into the embroilment. To further
show the deadliness of this feud, the
prince of Venice arriving in person, com-
plains that too long it has disgraced the
streets of his noble city, and that the
lives of the participants shall pay the
forfeit of its recurrence. As though to
further challenge the right of Romeo
to love Juliet, the dramatist draws him
into a quarrel with the fiery Tybalt,
Juliet's cousin, in which Romeo is made
to kill him. Here is but the beginning of
bitter adversity, conflict and problems
which spur the audience to sympathy.
Richard Wagner wrote a music drama
on the subject of human passion which
might serve as a helpful model, both for
its theatrical plausibility and appeal, as well
as for the superlative eloquence of its
score. Tristan does not woo Isolda under
the smiles of a beneficent fate, indeed he
does not woo her at all, and it is because
that fate, as made theatrically visible
in Brangaena's potion, overrules the
barriers set in his way by man, that love
triumphs. It is Isolda's first duty in the
first act of the drama to tell her maid, and
hence the audience, of the chasm of out-
raged pride which divides her from this
man who now bears her to become the
queen of his uncle, King of Cornwall.
If love is to rule between these two, then
here at the outset are serious, seemingly
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881
unsurmountable obstacles to be over-
come, nor is the problem ever entirely
solved; thus the terrible suspense hanging
over the guilty pair in the garden scene
which leads to the tragic climax of dis-
covery after avowals of love which had
been doubly poignant in the exaltation
and ecstasy of their passion because of
that very suspense.
Where are the evidences of a stage-
craft in "Natoma" that will set an au-
dience to scheming out solutions for its
love problems, or at least rousing itself
with some apprehension as to the out-
come? There are none. There is no cause
for apprehension on the part of the au-
dience, nothing to call for more concern
than the most prosaic announcement of
an engagement of two young creatures
of society upon whom their respective
fathers will settle a million, and whose first
real dramatic problem will be the divorce.
While there is virtually no dramatic
structure in the book, Mr. Redding should
have credit for certain lines, chiefly those
of Natoma, which have strength and
beauty. Her narrative to Paul of her
father's ancestry and of the significance
of the amulet which she wore is in the
trochaic verse of Longfellow's "Hiawatha."
It has character and is euphonious even
as her text in the soliloquy of the last act.
Now let us hear the truth according
to Paul. Before the advent of the beauti-
ful Barbara, while the simple ways of the
Indian girl yet found favor with him, ,he
addresses her thus: "Gentle maiden, tell
me, have I seen thee in my dreams, I
wonder?" and we are pardonable if in
turn we wonder whether or not, at the
island where his ship touched just before
this one, he had not accosted one of a
sextet of native nymphs in moccasins and
buckskin skirts with: "Tell me, pretty
maiden, are there any more at home like
you?"
When sheer etiquette demands that
Paul deliver himself of a congratulatory
and felicitatious speech on the occasion of
Barbara's coming-out fete, at which time
she really makes her debut into the best
society of the south shore, the plight of
the composer to find something in Spanish
politics that a young Yankee could at
that time honestly praise is no trivial
matter. Obviously the proper trick was
to launch out under the colors of a national
eulogy and then to shift his rudder with
such tact and adroitness as to bring up
in the harbor of his adored one's personal
graces, where naturally he would have
leagues of leeway in which to give free
sail to his gallantry and imagination. • The
discovery of Columbus as the national
hero to start with was a master stroke.
After paying his respects to- him, it was
an easy tack around to Columbia, whom
everybody would know was the fair
Barbara herself, and the string upon which
he could fly his kite of adulation through
the whole sweep oi the romantic heavens
in an apotheosis of Columbus and Colum-
bia, love, youth, springtime, nature, the
setting sun, open arms, Goddess of liberty
and Goddess of the free, and any other
pertinent and relevant articles lying
about not in use. Fortunately the score
contains an argument which sheds some
needed light on these not altogether
luminous subtleties.
If it be unkind to put such sentiment
and such literature into the mouth of the
principal tenor of the opera, who usually
has a hard enough time of it at best, what
of these rhapsodizings emburdened to the
night by the young woman he is obliged
to love?
"My confidant, O silver moon,
How oft with thee I've held commune,
And wondered if the tale be true,
That lovers should confide in you.
Ah, bid me now, when none can hear,
To whisper in thy kindly ear
The greatest secret ever told,
A story new and never old,
I love him."
and yet people have asked: "Did Mr.
Herbert get away from the operetta style
of writing? Has he expressed true passion?"
Poor Mr. Herbert. He is an able, a well-
schooled and imaginative musician, and
a courageous man, but he cannot make a
prattling babe converse with the moving
eloquence of a queen of tragedy, and such
ditties as the above are veritable prattle.
It is apparent that the book lacks evi-
dence of the technic of the stage, that its
characters are not characterized, and that
much of its text is without distinction
either as drama or literature. Last month
it was the purpose of an article in these
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THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
columns to show how haphazard and
fatuous is our present method of approach
to this question of opera in English, for
what is a manifestly obvious reason. Be-
fore our theatrical producers will risk
the expenditure of money on a new play,
they are reasonably assured that it has
sufficient inherent value as an acting
drama to warrant success and the financial
outlay. Usually the pieces which meet
these expectations come from the brain
and experience of a man who knows some-
thing about the craft of the stage. But
when our composers, who are lured by
the deadly fascination of grand opera,
undertake to increase operatic literature
by one more immortal work, they sublet
the making of the skeleton, the bones
and tissue of their creation, not to a man
who makes skeletons, but who may make
houses, or unmake laws, or even make
the score which is to clothe the skeleton —
men, in fact, who write for the stage as
an avocation, a diversion or a pleasant
acccmplishment. Hence the libretti of
our "Pipes of Desire," our "Natomas"
and our " Sacrifices," which as far as
logical, even plausible dramatic construc-
tion is concerned, are either deplorably
vapid or deplorably ridiculous. When it
becomes the custom to first secure a libretto
which could, if need be, stand the test of
being acted as a spoken drama, and which
is the product of a man who knows by
study and by practice, by what conflict,
what development and what solution
of what dramatic motives such a libretto
is to be built, so that it will have vitality
and appeal, then there will be reasonable-
ness in a composer's hoping to achieve
something enduring. Thus far the year
has witnessed sumptuous productions of
inherently mortal works, structures of
marble reared upon foundations of paste-
board.
In spite of the book, Mr. Herbert has
accomplished much in his music. The
reviewers in Philadelphia and New York
called attention to the fact that in the
first act he seemed to be conscious of a
restraint which probably indicated on
the one hand his desire to keep above
the level of operetta, and on the other a
style of something less than his usual
fluency. The attempt to write music
of true passion in the love duet with such
a text is reasonably unwarranted. There
is however in this act, as through the opera,
a vitality and clearness of expression in
the orchestra, as when the composer
would mirror the situation on the stage,
or would follow a quick transition of
thought in the story.
As a whole the score reveals a facility
in orchestral speech. It is rare that one
hears a passage at some sharply outlined
or salient moment through which it is
possible to see the composer's intention,
but revealing an inapt technic which
blurs and loses the desired effect. Re-
peatedly there are situations and senti-
ments to which the music has given a
significance they do not inherently possess.
The orchestra does not pall on the ears
with heaviness, monotony or thickness
in grouping. The heavy brass and the
percussion are permitted to sit in blessed
silence a portion of the time. There is
skillful, ingenious and often exceedingly
expressive and beautiful combination of
orchestral tints and colors which have
been mixed from a resourceful palette
and by a keen imagination.
In the second act, where Mr. Herbert
is unfettered by the book, he has given
his fancy free play and has written music
for the pageantry and the dances which
carries the stamp of its own irrepressible
individuality. There is a melody with a
rhythmic lilt and a harmonic color under
it which spells Herbert so that he who
runs would both read and feel. It is a
song for Pico which helps to amuse the
populace until Barbara and her father
arrive, and it brought the signs of joys
to those on the other side of the footlights
as well. Here was rhythm and a melody
to which few senses will be impregnable,
for the appeal of rhythm is the most ele-
mental in music. It antedates melody.
There are other interesting pages. The
dagger-dance is marvelously sinister and
ominous in color, and there is spirited
and well-written music for the chorus.
Natoma's music is notably characteriz-
ing. The broken and undiatonic melodic
line denotes with singular directness and
force the rugged strength and sincerity
of the girl's nature. Here is true at-
mosphere and illusion.
THE MUSICAL SEASON IN AMERICA
883
While the scheme of leading motives
in a score is not a thing about which the
general public is fastidious, yet it is due
Mr. Herbert to observe the workmanship
and display of creative power here that
in a large measure reveal his musical
qualifications. Mr. Herbert does not em-
ploy these themes, or derivatives of them,
simultaneously, as Wagner in his maze
of psychologic polyphony, but singly,
much as in the fashion of Puccini.
There are two themes identified solely
with Natoma, one seemingly indicative
of her love for Paul, and the other, the
more prevalent of the two, emblematic
of her fate. The former is the first to
appear. After Paul has told Natoma that
she casts a spell over all his senses, this
theme is heard in the orchestra, pianissimo,
in G sharp minor, in the scale of the flatted
seventh. It is unqualifiedly Indian in its
melodic and rhythmic contour. It recurs
at these situations later in the opera : when
Natoma falls at Paul's feet begging the
joy -of only serving him; after Barbara's
return and welcome; when Natoma is left
alone to muse on Paul's words; when
Natoma 's face is seen as a spectre at the
window during the lovers' embrace; in
the orchestral prelude to act two which
opens with Natoma alone; later in this
soliloquy after she has wished happiness
to Barbara and remembers that for an
hour Paul's love was hers; again in her
disordered fantasy in the church, and
finally in the concluding measures of the
opera when she leaves the mission and
enters the convent garden.
The theme of her fate is a bold phrase
first heard in F sharp minor, when Paul
asks her what is the secret of her charm,
referring to the amulet which she wears.
It begins upon a syncopated accent and
descends from the keynote through tones
on the fifth, fourth and minor third of
the scale to the lower keynote an octave
below. Its repetitions outline and visualize
to the ear the psychologic development of
the dramatic motive as far as Mr. Herbert
has been able to impart such to the story.
They are as follows: in Natoma's narra-
tive of her father's prayer to the great
spirit for food for his famished people
and how it was answered; with funeral
softness and gloom, in the basses, as
Natoma tells of her brothers lost in battle,
mourned by her aged father; with fine
dramatic irony and as a flame of fire in
the orchestra when Natoma has recounted
Barbara's charms and tells Paul he will
love her; at Barbara's arrival and first
word of greeting to Natoma; when Natoma
LILLIAN GRENVILLE
In costume as Barbara in "Natoma"
introduces Paul to Barbara; when Castro
tries to claim kinship of race with her;
after Natoma has overheard Alvarado's
plot with Castro and walks across the
stage; at the end of the first act and pre-
ceding the second, and when Natoma rises
and accepts Castro's challenge to the dag-
ger-dance. Here Mr. Herbert has indicated
the moral force of the act by an admirable
bit of musical cunning. Heretofore Na-
884
THE MUSICAL SEBSON IN AMERICA
toma has been passive; her musical motive
has descended. Now, although it is not
for herself, she nevertheless takes the
aggressive, and her phrase, not absolute,
but a derivative, is now heard inverted
and ascending. Here is a subtle piece
of psychology that a man who could write
nothing better than even a good musical
show would not have thought of. The
same ascending phrase is heard in the
prelude to the third act preceding her
scene which is the strongest part of the
opera. The theme is heard again descend-
ing when she cries out her resolve to go
back to her people, which ethically would
have been a weaker thing than that which
she did. The theme is heard again in
the very closing measures.
This motive containsitwhat is known
as the "Scotch snap" which 'has prompted
some to affirm, to Mr. Herbert's legitimate
wrath, that it is not Indian at all, nor is
it Scotch, as Mary Garden and Andrew
Carnegie might prefer, but plain, un-
varnished Irish. Of course Mr. Herbert
would have had no access to it had it
been Irish. Whatever its nationality, in
seme of the citations I have made above,
this figure of the "snap" is used alone,
but the significance of the thought is
obvious.
The composer makes the orchestra
tell what is going on when Paul and
Barbara first get a good look at each other
by playing a motive of marked melodic
beauty whose business it is thereafter to
denote the love interest between the
twain. Once, a few minutes later, Barbara
again rests her eyes on Paul, according
to the stage directions, and again the
orchestra announces that the shot has
landed. .The theme begins the scene of
Barbara's confession to the moon of her
spasms of affection, and thus reassures
the impatient who may have feared Paul
was going to be prevented by duty on
shipboard from arriving in time. It pro-
claims the tidings when in unison the two
vow that they love each other on a high
B flat with all the voice they can muster,
and later it shows that Barbara is pleased
with Paul's grandiloquent metamorphosis
of her into Columbia, a near relative of
Columbus, all of which is asking a good
deal of^one group of notes.
It may not be necessary to pursue the
musical symbols which accompany and
graphically characterize Paul, Alvarado
and Castro. There is a noticeable family
resemblance between the figures employed
to mirror the slippery rascals Alvarado
and company, and their sleek if not al-
together professional knavery.
It is at once to be seen that this use of
guiding motives is not haphazard or
bungling. There is subtlety displayed
and usually dramatic force and clearness,
although I should be interested to know
just what is the meaning, hidden or other-
wise, in assigning to the Girl's Voice, heard
off stage early in the second act, the first
two phrases, elsewhere developed as a
theme of Alvarado 's protestation of
passionate esteem, accompanying his
words: "Fair one, listen to my vow of
love," which he had made to Barbara late
the preceding evening. It is now early
morning of the second day. Perhaps this
is only to imply that here is a fair one
who actually believes that it was addressed
to her alone.
There is a fastidiousness of taste in
detail, but there is to be felt at times the
large sweep of true emotional power in
this music. The orchestral interlude
between acts two and three is not the most
convincing music. As a rule Mr. Herbert
has found his most worthy as well as most
spontaneous and delightful expression in
those pages which portray and accompany
Natoma.
It was both fortunate and unfortunate
that Miss Garden should have undertaken
the part. To the eye and by that means
to the understanding her portraiture was
engrossing and masterful. Her marvelous
command of plastique, of pose, of bodily
lines and of appropriate costuming and
make-up, coupled with her sense of
dramatic characterization achieved one
continued picture as to the life, which will
endure in the memory of all who saw her.
The disappointment was in her delivery of
the music. In Debussy's semi-declama-
tion, even in the graceful outlines of
Gounod's melody in the purely lyrical
pages of "Faust," her illusion -of voice
and command of color is sufficient, but
Mr. Herbert's melodic line is merciless.
It simply must be sung, or the defective
THERE IS!
885
vocalism that would attempt it is unspar-
ingly laid bare. Miss Garden's diction
was a model of euphonious English.
Of the others Mr. Sammarco as Al-
varado was entirely satisfying, as was Mr.
Dufranne as Father Peralta. Of Mr.
McCormack, as Paul, and Miss Grenville,
as Barbara, the best that could be said
is that like their lyrics and parts of their
music they would have been counted
acceptable in a light opera. Mr. Cam-
panini conducted with sympathy, a fine
appreciation and with an authority and
command which did not degenerate into
brutality. Of the English diction of the
singers and some allied topics it will be
possible to speak again.
For the sake of the record let it be added
that the premiere occurred at the Metro-
politan Opera House of Philadelphia,
Saturday evening, February 25, by the
Chicago-Philadelphia company, Andreas
Dippel, director. The first performance
of the opera in New York took place at
the Metropolitan the following Tuesday
evening. It was sung by the same cast.
A word of commendation is due Mr.
Dippel for his courage in undertaking
the production of the opera and of ac-
complishing it with such evidence of
zealous care in all regards, particularly
the sumptuously beautiful settings and
other appointments of the stage. "Na-
toma" clearly is not the harbinger of the
new "American school." Perhaps it has
pointed the way to reforms which will
hasten the coming of that harbinger. If
so, it will not have served in vain.
THERE IS!
By CLEMENT HOPKINS
"""THERE'S an eye to watch and know each hidden thing;
•*• There's a willing hand to draw each hidden sting;
There's a heart to feel each human beat of ours;
A mind to comprehend our darkest hours.
We never stand to face the world alone;
Angels are near to touch and move each stone!
Our torch may smudge, but yet the light is there
To make the pit of doubt a valley fair!
We may not hear the music when it plays,
Nor see the shining sun beneath the grays;
The East is darkened by our own conceit;
We crush the flower that grows beneath our feet.
The wise Creator dwells not far away,
Nor robed in royal garments does He stray;
Truth lingers near to comfort and to bless,
Within the hut of Love and humbleness.
Soul-love is great enough to lift and bear
The pent-up sorrows of this world of care;
The law of contact will remember me,
And send a message to encircle thee!
B AN C O HAN
THE CORAL ISLAND IN THE SULU SEA
Isabel Anderson
N a trip through the Philip-
pine Islands in August ,1910,
we went out of the usual
course of travelers to visit
the small coral island of
Bancoran in the Sulu Sea,
one of the southern Philip-
pines, uninhabited, and sel-
dom, if ever, visited. It
was our purpose to obtain,
if possible, some new spe-
cies of gulls or terns, as
well as to enjoy the beau-
tiful sea gardens found among coral reefs.
We made the trip on the cable steamer
"Rizal," which was about to visit that
part of the Sulu Sea in order. to inspect
the telegraph cables connecting the re-
moter army posts. When we approached
the island, several of us got into the glass-
bottomed boat that had been taken along
on the "Rizal."
The afternoon was ideal — the sky
pale blue, fleeced with white clouds,
piled high in masses like glistening snow.
The intense sun, shining on the ocean,
flashed back a hundred shades of blue
and green, violet and amethyst. Out
to our right, like an emerald among
sapphires, floated the single island, which
broke the continuity of the sea. On one
side the rocks, which studded the water,
chafed the surf into foam. To the left,
a long, narrow beach of coral sand lay
shimmering, pale yellow under the sun-
light. The little island was covered
thickly with green trees, which were
dotted white with thousands of resting
gulls and terns, while others, on the wing,
dark-colored or snow white, circled above
the beautiful little island in the clear, pure
air.
It was from this fairy landscape that
we turned to look into the water through
the square of glass in the bottom of the
boat. If Alice could have had her choice
in entering Wonderland, she surely would
have selected a doorway leading through
a glass-bottomed boat, instead of dropping
down a rabbit's hole. Over the sandy
surface, only a few feet below us, stretched
fields of green sea-grass, on which the
fairies must have used lawn-mowers,
for it was neatly clipped and well kept.
Interspersed among the fields were beds
of feathery, lace-like vegetation, unnamed
in the language of our party. Passing
one expanse after another of submarine
pasturage, we saw depressions in the coral
where tiny fishes played, or where queer,
unknown water creatures had established
a little world for themselves and were
living in its narrow confines, in the midst
of vastness, unconscious of those who
were passing over them.
Drifting on into deeper water, we came
to a mysterious gray world of curls and
feathers, trembling with life, a forest of
pale ghost trees and swaying brown ones,
of high hills and dark valleys under the
sea in the coral reef. Pretty rock gardens
came into view, where grew cabbages with
blue edges, and purple fans and sea
anemones. A huge toadstool was seen,
and a giant fungus and a cactus plant—-
at least they looked like these to us. There
were rainbow shells, half hidden, and
great blue starfish clinging to the rocks;
and in and out among the sponges and the
brown coral branches that were like antler
horns, swam curious fish — white fish
the color of sand, and big green ones
with needle noses, electric blue fish, and
others black and yellow, silver fish and
fish of many colors, and striped ones
that looked like sly prisoners dodging
their keepers. We caught a glimpse, too,
of a huge turtle, nosing around in the
(886)
CORAL ISLAND AND ONE OP ITS BIRDS
888 THE PIONEERS OF THE OREGON TRAIL
sand — a turtle so big we were sure he about the size of hens' eggs. There were
must have been a hundred or more years several varieties of gulls and terns, some
of age. brown with green-blue eyes, and others
As we approached closer to the island, snowy- white. A few specimens were
flock after flock of gulls flew wonderingly shot, and one or two were captured alive
over otir small craft, their breasts and and taken on board the "Rizal" to be
wings green-tinted in the reflected light carried to Manila for the Bureau of
from the sea. We landed and found their Ornithology. One of these proved never
nests' of leaves built on the ground among to have been catalogued before, and as
the great roots of the trees, some of them the scientists had long been searching for
containing eggs, which were white and it, our visit to Bancoran was not in vain.
THE PIONEERS OF THE OREGON TRAIL
By EDWARD WILBUR MASON
HPHIS was the roadway of the commonwealth
*• That bridged the continent. This way they came;
The swart, bronzed pioneers from Engelish mead
Or Scottish correi or from Erin's glen.
How brave they were who followed empire's course
And hitched their covered wagons to no star
Save Hesperus! They wrestled with the wood
. On rocky slopes where grew the towering pine,
And entered like a swift, resistless wedge
The wide domain where wilderness was king.
This new and spacious land was theirs by right —
As fresh as from the mills of glaciers cold
With water courses crying for the keel,
And fragrant meadows yearning for the strength
Of the plow horse it stretched afar. The rock,
Green-comforted with moss, they touched, and swift
There came the spent cloud's largess of the snows
Their very feet struck fire from out the clods
And wealth was theirs beyond the heart's desire.
But glory more than all the unearned gold
They gave their lives of worth unto the soil,
And the rich mould repaid them every throb.
Their bone and sinew and their zest of fire
Reclaimed the waste place and the desert sand
And made them blossom as the Sharon rose.
The mountain ranges and the canyons wild
Were nurtured in the bloodshed of their souls.
They flourished and they multiplied, and grew
In stature with the peaks that pricked the stars.
Their towns and cities and their capitals
Salute each other on the heights. Their herds
Go down upon the plain, or mantle dark
The hills that thundered to the buffalo.
They need no other monument than these
Their works that make the wonder of the West!
MUSICAL RECORDS
EN as periodical
publishers aim to
give each issue its
proper "feature" article, so the
several phonograph companies offer on their
lists, month by month, some new attrac-
tion. It may be a "find" in the vaude-
ville world ; it may be an exclusive contract
with a well-known Grand Opera artist, or
perhaps some new acheivement in the
technicalities of record-making. For in-
stance, the Columbia list for March an-
nounces exclusive rights for recording the
work of Miss Mary Desmond, the famous
English contralto. The Victor people
feature "Song of a Nightingale," perhaps
the first exact reproduction of a nightin-
gale's voice ever recorded. And the
Edison Company has made the first of
its double-faced records.
* * *
Pardonable pride is exhibited in the Co-
lumbia Company's announcement of Miss
Desmond's records. She has lately been
at the Manhattan Opera House, New
York City, where her work aroused much
favorable comment among musical critics.
English and Irish opera-goers were quite
in love with her rich contralto voice, and
on the Columbia list for March, her solos
"Nadeschda" and "Beloved, It Is Morn,"
double disc record No. A5256; and selec-
tions from "Samson and Delilah" and
"Mignon" ensure for her an appreciative
following among Columbia owners.
The Hitchcock selections on double-
disc record No. A5257, are especially good
this month. "In Days of Old" has been
heard by many who saw "The Yankee
Consul." "Recollections" gives Mr.
Hitchcock in a song of somewhat different
character than is usually ex-
pected from him. Aside from
its value as a very pretty little
ballad, "Recollections" proves that Ray-
mond Hitchcock can use his versatile
baritone voice to other purposes than of
making the public smile.
Few sacred songs have been more finely
interpreted than "Lord God of Abraham"
from Mendelssohn's "Elijah" and "Oh,
God Have Mercy" from his "St. Paul,"
sung by David Bispham on the March
Columbia list. Mr. Bispham is admittedly
the greatest artist in the field of oratorio,
and he has, as the saying goes, "done him-
self proud," in these two magnificent
numbers.
A very fine instrumental record is No.
A5253, with the overture of "The Flying
Dutchman," rendered by Prince's Military
Band, and "A March of Homage," another
of the favorite Wagner compositions.
A good negro dialect record is No.
A5251, with Golden & Hughes in a skit,
"Darkies' Schooldays." On the opposite
face are Negro Minstrels, including themes
of "Carrie fron Caroline," "Happy Days
in Dixie" and "Balmoral."
Some very good dance music is offered
by Prince's Orchestra in the "To Thee"
waltz and "Emperor Frederick" march
and two-step. Schools whose music is
furnished by the Columbia will find the
"Emperor Frederick" an admirable march
in lively time.
* * *
Few Irish melodies are as tuneful as
"Where the River Shannon Flows," which,
after several seasons' use, was put aside
for negro, Indian and again negro "popu-
lar" music, only to be revived of late to a
(889)
890
MUSICAL RECORDS FOR THE MONTH
more staying popularity. On the Edison
list for March, Mr. Will Oakland sings
the ballad delightfully.
An Indian novelette rendered by the
American 'Standard Orchestra is "My
Rampano." Shouts of Indian braves,
war-cries and other features used to em-
bellish Indian music make a very finished
record. For "coon" songs, "Down on
the Mississippi" and "I Feel Religion
Coming On" are given.
Who could sing "Gee, But It's Great
to Meet a Friend from Your Home Town,"
to better advantage than Mr. Billy
Murray? Versatile artist though he be,
Mr. Murray's forte is the interpretation
of American enthusiasm. He well voices
this national spirit, and cannot fail to
please on Standard Record No. 631.
The work of Miss Elizabeth Spencer, a
lately initiated Edison artist, has created
much favorable comment. This month
she sings "Those Songs My Mother Used
to Sing" and "Just A-wearyin' for You."
"Teach Me to Pray" is sung as a duet
by Anthony & Harrison.
An innovation for the Edison public is
No. 621, with two selections on a single
record. Doubtless Edison owners will
welcome the double-face arrangement,
and will lose no time in voicing their ap-
proval of records of this kind.
Never have I seen an Edison list which
did not abound in the best of instrumental
numbers. Some notable selections may
be taken from the March offerings.
"Napoleon's Last Charge," rendered by
the New York Military Band, is a singu-
larly stirring march galop. An excellent
flute and clarinet duet is "Lo! Hear the
Gentle Lark," by Stanzione & Finkelstein
and the Edison Concert Band. Sousa's
Band render the "Jolly Fellows Waltz" and
"Hobomoko," an Indian composition, in
their usual excellent manner.
There is a sizable Grand Opera list, also
three new selections by Harry Lauder. The
first of these, "Queen Among the Heather,"
is sentimental; the others, "Breakfast in
Bed" and "The Picnic," are comic, and
given, in typical Lauder fashion.
* * *
Something new is offered on the Feb-
ruary Victor list — an actual reproduction
of a nightingale's voice. The bird be-
longs to one Herr Reich, of Bremen, and
it need not be explained that much time
and labor was necessary to produce this
really remarkable piece of recording.
Germans have received it with open
arms, so to speak, and in musical circles
have extensively announced its coming.
All Victor owners in America should hear
record No. 64161. The production of
"Song of a Nightingale" is an event of
no small significance in the record world.
"That Girl Quartet" is capable of pro-
ducing some very fine work. The new
Madame Sherry hit, "Put Your Arms
Around Me, Honey," is played by them
in excellent shape. The insistent demand
for this selection has warranted a vocal
rendition as well, and on double-face
record No. 16708, Collins & Harlan lend
their usual lightheartedness and amusing
manner to the interpretation of the senti-
mental refrain.
Yale men will welcome double-disc
record No. 16713, with "Eli Yale," and
"Dear Old Yale," by Haydn Quartet;
also the very popular "Men of Yale
March." One can never resist a good
ballad, and Andrew Mack's "Story of the
Rose," represents one of these which will
never die. John Barnes Wells, the well-
known tenor, is singing the number. A
novelty polka is the "Piccolinette" — a
piccolo duet rendered by Senors Armenta
& Rodriguez, supported by the Banda
Policia of Mexico.
This month the Victor Light Opera
Company revive gems from "The Sere-
nade," and from "Babes in Toyland."
These two records increase the Light
Opera Company's list to twenty-eight,
and those who have the complete port-
folio possess representative numbers of
those pleasing operas which have been
most popular in theatrical America since
the inception of "Opera Bouffe."
Caruso is singing the "Siciliana" from
"Cavalleria Rusticana," a serenade in
which the great tenor is at his best. A
new Grand Opera artist introduced on the
March Victor list is Miss Rita Fornia,
the Pacific Coast soprano. Her voice is
refreshingly youthful, and her work in the
"Flower Song" from "Faust," and in the
"Page Song" from "Romeo et Juliette," is
laudable.
THE SCIENCE OF EXERCISE
by
J • Edmund Thompson >A'B*
HERE is no subject about
which people think they know
more but really know less, than
"Exercise." But the harm done
by wrong exercise is so great
and the good that conies from
right exercise so fundamental
and far-reaching that there are few sub-
jects which it is so vitally important for
everyone to understand.
Exercise is a science and a little known
one. Most men are as ignorant of its
effects as they are about the effect of
drugs, yet they plunge into it with blind
assurance and often with disastrous results.
Neglect of its principles means ill health ;
adherence to them brings bodily and men-
tal vigor, a happier and more useful life.
For years I have studied exercise as a
science. Convinced that I had discovered
the fundamental principles of right exer-
cising I have put these principles into
effect in thousands of cases. The result
of my study and experience the editor of
the NATIONAL MAGAZINE has asked me
to tell its readers. It may be well to preface
what I have to say by mentioning how I
came to make exercise a serious profession.
In a nut-shell, it was self-preservation.
When I left college ten years ago I
was a wreck. The doctors condemned
my heart and lungs and I was unable to
buy any life insurance. As physicians
offered me no hope I turned to exercise
as an experiment, going as a clerk with
the most famous physical culture insti-
tute of the time. "Strong men" were
turned out there by the score — men who
could lift half a ton. But I found that
every effort was directed to creating great
muscular strength and none whatever
to building up a useful, trustworthy and
durable bodily machine. Surface muscles
alone were developed — not the vital
organs.
It was health that I was after — life —
and any of the systems then in vogue
would have come nearer meaning death
to me in my weakened condition. I
sought everywhere in book and gymnasium
but found no method intelligently directed
to benefit an unsteady heart, weak lungs,
shaky nerves, sluggish bowels. No atten-
tion was paid to the supremely important
matter of keeping a sane balance between
external muscles and vital organs. I had
to work out my own salvation and in
doing so I evolved a method of exercise
that was new in principle and practice and
suited to benefit not only the few would-be
Samsons, but every human being who
was physically below par.
It has given me not only unusual mus-
cular strength, but what is infinitely more
important, superb health; vital organs
so vigorous that insurance examiners now
tell me that I am a "perfect risk."
The word "exercise" covers a multitude
of sins. It is a very loose term used for
any form of physical exertion, be it sweep-
ing out a factory, walking home from the
office or lifting dumb-bells. To say
"Exercise is beneficial" is a very inaccurate
remark and a very dangerous belief. It
is necessary to distinguish between right
and wrong exercise. As often as not big
muscles in arms, chest or legs are a calam-
ity, for they actually shorten life unless
the vital organs are proportionately de-
veloped to take care of them. Constantly
I find men who are wearing out their
hearts and arteries with some form of
violent work they call "exercise." If
continued they would die of arterio-
sclerosis. I tell these men that a pretty
good general rule to go by is to take no
form of exercise after they are grown up
that they cannot keep on with until they
are o!4 men.
In order to gain a proper idea of exercise
it is necessary to view briefly the simple
fundamental laws of physiology. The
body is made up of little cells which are
constantly changing. Every movement,
(891)
892
THE SCIENCE OF EXERCISE
voluntary or involuntary, breaks down
some of these tiny cells. This continual
loss Nature continually makes good.
When a muscle contracts it squeezes the
tissue and forces out blood laden with
broken down cells, and when it relaxes
fresh blood returns to build up new cells.
This is the physiological action of exercise,
and unless exercise is directed with this
end in vieSv it is useless or injurious.
Movements which keep the muscles
at tension stop the blood flow while they
last and hence retard instead of stimulate
tissue repair. And excessive physical
effort destroys an excess of tissue cells
which clog the system and cause fatigue
and ill health.
Now unless a muscle does fully contract
it cannot force out the refuse matter for
the blood to carry away, nor will the full
amount of fresh blood come to that part
to repair the destroyed tissue cells. Full
but brief contraction is the secret. It was
the recognition of this fact that caused
me to put into practice a form of exercise
that does more good in two minutes than
will an hour of random exercising. In
fact, the Thompson Course may be con-
sidered an emergency ration of exercise
which, because scientifically directed, is
made to take the place of that ceaseless
physical activity which alone kept you
in such good health and bounding spirits
when a child. This is made possible
because the exercises which I prescribe
send the blood, richly laden with oxygen
by full breathing, to those tracts of the
body which need repair. This is done with
scientific efficiency by wholly natural
means, through adherence to the follow-
ing principles:
(1) You have two sets of muscles: the
outer ones, which you can feel, and the
inner ones, which are your lungs, heart,
stomach and other internal organs. The
outer ones are conveniences for perform-
ing actions. The inner ones are your life—
the "fate" which makes you happy or
depressed, powerful or weak, useful or
the contrary. These inner muscles require
training, just like any other muscles, by
intelligently directed exercise.
(2) Exercise to be wholly beneficial must
consist of full and brief muscle contrac-
tions.
(3) Every action has three phases:
(a) the idea in the brain; (b) the impulse
carried by the nerves; (c) the muscular
contraction. Exercise that is not based
on co-ordinating these three phases is
insufficient because mental and physical
effectiveness depend largely on the close-
ness of this co-ordination.
I have stated briefly the principles under-
lying my work; now as to my method.
Exercise must be prescribed to suit the
needs of each individual case. Further-
more, the movements should be changed
every little while to suit one's exact prog-
ress. My work is in the highest degree
individual. Each series of exercise is
just as much a personal prescription as
any medicine given by a doctor. I am
able to do this satisfactorily by mail, by
studying the answers to questions on a
diagnosis blank. In this way my field
is practically unlimited and I have been
able to help thousands of people in this
' country and over-seas, without leaving
my office here in Worcester, Massachu-
setts. All of the movements given are
natural and gentle. They are not on a
continued tension and instead of being
tiresome are positively restful. They
require no complicated apparatus and take
but a few minutes daily.
It remains only to speak of the results
brought about by these exercises. Many
of the cures accomplished it would be idle
to print, for they would not be believed.
In numerous instances conditions have
been overcome that medicine had failed
to reach. The particular cause of ill
health is often obscured, though we know
it exists. The only reliable method is a
general overhauling, putting every organ
in normal condition. This is just what
my Course does. I work from the inside
out, removing the underlying cause of
the trouble. If a hundred of my clients
were asked what I had done for them,
probably fifty different answers would
be received. One would tell of strength-
ened lungs, another of stubborn consti-
pation overcome, another of reduced
weight, of greater energy, or a victory over
nervousness and insomnia.
I have stated my thesis in a little book-
let, "Human Energy," which I shall be glad
to mail without cost to NATIONAL readers.
IN THE
COI?NI:R
HOW RECRUIT SMITH WORKED
HIS DISCHARGE
By CHARLES S. GERLACH
YJT7ANDERING about New
™ York City some years ago
Patrick Smith, a bright-
eyed and red-headed son
of the Emerald Isle, espied
a brilliant poster, covered
with the figures of hand-
somely uniformed soldiers,
and below these an invitation to ambi-
tious, able-bodied young men to join
Uncle Sam's Army. Being of an adven-
turous turn of mind, he concluded to
investigate; so wending his way to the
recruiting office he interviewed the sergeant
on duty there. The latter painted to him
in glowing colors the attractions of a
soldier's life in the far west, chasing
Indians, hunting buffalo and other big
game of the prairies. This aroused Smith's
fighting ardor, and before he left the office
he had signed and made oath to an agree-
ment to serve the United States faithfully
against all enemies or opposers whomso-
ever for the period of five years. Next
day he was sent over to Governors Island,
where the depot for dismounted recruits
was then located. Believing himself to be
on the threshold of a new and bright ca-
reer, he entered upon his duties with great
zeal and soon learned the rudiments of
drill, and became proficient in performance
of the tasks required of him.
Nevertheless, he found it difficult to
adapt himself to other service conditions.
A fixed ration of slim hash, dry bread and
black coffee for breakfast, soup, bread and
a small ration of meat for dinner, with
dry bread and coffee for supper, hardly
proved sufficient to satisfy his keen ap-
petite. Then, too, Sergeant Murphey, his
immediate superior, exercised his authority
in a most arrogant manner, regardless
of the feelings of his subordinates.
All this led Smith to surmise that he
had made a mistake by enlisting. How-
ever, there was his oath, and he was too
good a Christian to violate it, although
the failure of some of his comrades to
answer "HERE" at reveille roll calls in-
dicated plainly that there was a practicable
underground route, whereby New York
City could be reached, and that they had
deserted the service without difficulty.
However, where there is a will there is
a way, and Smith was determined not to
suffer any longer than necessary. He
put on his study cap and bided his time.
At last on a fine afternoon in July
he was on guard, energetically walking
his post on the bridge across the moat
at the south sally-port of Fort Columbus.
The officer of the day approached. It
was Smith's duty to salute. Tactics
prescribed that this be done by presenting
arms standing still, facing the person to
be honored. There was also a fixed rule
that upon halting, the musket must in-
variably be brought back to the shoulder.
(893)
894
IN THE COSY CORNER
In this Smith saw his opportunity.
He first halted properly, when he per-
ceived the officer of the day in the distance,
and when he approached within saluting
distance Smith "presented arms," but
instead of standing still, proceeded to
march along his post.
Rather brusque in manner, and military
withal, the officer of the day commanded —
"halt." Smith obeyed promptly, bring-
ing his piece to a carry.
When the officer of the day followed
this up with "Present arms," Smith re-
sumed his walk.
Again the officer halted him, and pro-
ceeded to instruct him how to salute prop-
erly. Smith stared vacantly at the officer
until the latter again commanded, "Present
arms."
Jumping back suddenly, Smith now
charged bayonet and shouted at the of-
ficer of the day: "Look here, you, the
corporal of the guard told me not to allow
anybody to -fool with me; you better git."
Dumfounded at this audacity the officer
of the day retreated and disappeared.
Soon after the corporal of the guard
came up, took Smith off post, and ordered
him to go to his quarters. He was not
slow in noticing that the non-commis-
sioned officer in barracks observed him
closely; he was evidently excused from all
duty.
Keeping quiet, he awaited events.
A few days* later, he was brought be-
fore an examining board, and a short
time after received an honorable dis-
charge, on account of disability not incurred
in the line of duty, wtth pay to date.
Inwardly rejoicing over this happy
close of his military career, he returned
to civil life.
* * *
AN INTERESTING ESCAPE
By MARY GETTELL COBB
AEPHEN CARMICK of Os-
sining, New York, a veteran
of the Civil War, sometimes
tells of his surprising escape
from a freight car, as with
hundreds of comrades he was being con-
veyed to Andersonville, Georgia.
He served in the capacity of Corporal
in the Second Regiment, New York
Heavy Artillery, attached to the Army
of the Potomac, commanded at the time
by General Ulysses S. Grant. During
the engagement at Petersburg, Virginia,
June 22 and 23, 1864, Mr. Carmick was
taken a prisoner by Mahon's Division of
the Rebel Army.
After many depressing experiences, be-
ginning with an enforced fast of three
days, owing to the dearth of food supplies,
temporary imprisonment in Libby Prison,
Richmond, Virginia, at Bell Island in the
James River, Virginia, and other Con-
federate prisons, he finally found himself
en route for that horrible jail in Anderson-
ville. It was late in July. The weary
summer day was drawing to a close. A
fine rain began to moisten the torrid South-
land, as a long freight train composed of
dilapidated cars, crowded with Union
prisoners, creaked onto the siding fourteen
miles from Columbia, South Carolina, to
wait the passing of a scheduled train that
was shortly expected. The dismal swamps
and croaking frogs accentuated the dreari-
ness, for of the five hundred brave souls
packed so uncomfortably in the dozen
worn-out cars, many would not pass this
way again; some would soon be sleeping,
far from home, in the Land of Dixie.
The train waited on an embankment
that sloped toward the marshes. On either
side a low picket fence, a barrier for wander-
ing cattle, stretched along the waste land.
Seven guards were doing duty on the roof
of each car, while within, four others
zealously watched the sliding side doors
that formed the two exits; these remained
closed, owing to the rain.
The car confining Mr. Carmick was the
last of the train, and through an aperture
in the rear, formed by several missing
boards, there filtered occasionally a prisoner,
glad to stand and breathe the air on the
narrow platform, or scale the simple ladder
to the roof. While standing on the end
of the car, a wandering thought suggested
to Mr. Carmick that he could drop on the
track behind the train, which, as it moved
along, would leave him there; a moment's
consideration warned him that the train
might back on to the main track and crush
him to death. With a sudden ins weep of
courage, protected by the friendly dusk, he
dropped from the car, crawled quietly to
IN THE COSY CORNER
895
the fence and, slipping over, lay perfectly
inert on the other side.
There he waited, near to death, in an
agitated frame of mind, the going of the
train, for of the many outside guards,
should one notice the dark object outlined
against the strip of yellow sand, the report
of a gun would instantly signal a tragedy.
Several minutes dragged away, when two
negro trainsmen, waving their lanterns,
passed along the track; one vagrant flash
made its way between the pickets of the
fence and found the face of the man hiding
there; but its instant gleam worked no
harm, for only God saw and all proved
well. Another minute, and the train
backing from the switch onto the main
track, passed on, leaving one, hungry,
ragged, barefooted man behind, no longer
a prisoner.
After a night in the woods, he cautiously
ventured forth next morning; possessing
only two Confederate dollars, equalling
each ten cents of the currency of the North,
he began his homeward journey through
the enemy's country, hoping in time to
reach some station where help was given
to Union soldiers. Subsisting on green
corn and apples gathered along the way,
supplemented by an occasional meal of
bacon and pones begged of poor whites
who regarded him suspiciously, he reached
the environs of Columbia, where he dropped
in an exhausted condition before the cabin
of a friendly negro who housed him for a
week.
As his condition grew alarming, the
negro reported the case to a benevolent
white lady, whose sympathies were strong
for the North. She begged for his admis-
sion to the hospital in Columbia; observing
his ebbing strength, the authorities con-
sented, thinking that for this patient the
sun would rise but a few times more. He
improved in health, and when convalescing,
was made a prisoner of war and sent one
hundred miles to the stockade at Florence,
South Carolina, where after a month's
detention, he was taken with several
hundred Union captives to Charleston,
South Carolina. Here a Union transport
waited to effect an exchange of prisoners.
The North and South met on the heav-
ing waters of the Atlantic, near the ruins
of Fort Sumter, each boat flying its white
flag of truce while Union and Confederate
sentries stood rigidly to their duty on
the Northern vessel, as each country re-
ceived again some of its own brave ones.
The Union transport made its way north-
ward to the Camp at Annapolis, where Mr.
Carmick was dismissed with two months'
pay and a thirty days' furlough. Late
in December, and as he touched at Balti-
more on his journey home, the first news
that he heard was from the lusty throats
of the "newsies" as they shouted "extra!
Sherman's Christmas present to Uncle
Sam is the City of Savannah."
THE UNFIRED SHOT
By JULIA DESMOND
THOROUGHBRED Kentucky
filly, Glad, was straight from
the Blue -Grass region, where
father had found her, as she
daintily selected the choicest
grass for her feeding.
There was not an ounce of superfluous
flesh on her sensitive, quivering body.
Every sinewy muscle was compact and
firm. Her slender limbs and dainty hoofs
spurned the earth, and she carried herself
regally. She was dark brown in color,
and her silky mane shaded to a deeper
hue. Her eyes, too, were brown and in-
tensely human in their expression.
He had brought her to our Northern
home when I was a little girl, and had
given her to me for my very own. We
fell in love at first sight and spent many
happy hours galloping over the gently
sloping hills, or following the winding
wagon-roads through leafy woodlands.
The years flew by, and we grew up to-
gether, perfect comrades, loving and under-
standing one another.
One afternoon in early autumn father
asked me to ride to a small town, ten miles
distant, to get a sum of money due him
there. The air was crisp and cool as Glad
and I set out for our long canter over the
hills.
About the middle of the way, for al-
most a mile in length dense woods over-
hung the road on either side. The first
frost had changed the leaves to pictures
of oriental coloring, and the ride through
896
IN THE COSY CORNER
the woods was a source of delight and
inspiration to me.
There was delay attendant upon the
payment of the money, so that it was
late when I started home. My love of
outdoor life and my constant association
with father had made me more fearless
than girls usually are. I had no appre-
hension of danger. We entered the wood
at a leisurely pace; the night-wind fanned
my cheeks and sent a glow of life and
spirits through my veins; the silvery radi-
ance of the moon reflected on the leaves.
Suddenly, without a moment's notice, a
dark form shot out of the woods, and
Glad's bits were seized by a strong hand.
"Hand over that money, quick," said
a thick voice from behind a mask, and
something in the robber's hand gleamed
in the moonlight.
The thought in my mind seemed to
flash along the tightened reins; for, almost
before the robber had uttered the last
word, Glad shook free her bridle from his
grasp and I could see her white teeth
close over the hand that held the weapon.
With a groan, the man loosed his hold
upon it, and it fell to the earth; then with
one long, flying leap Glad sprang forward,
and away we flew, her light hoofs scarcely
touching the ground, nor did she slacken
her pace until we came to our own door.
She has earned her meed of oats and
hay for the rest of her life. Indeed, I
think she will never grow old, for her
spirit is undaunted still, and so long as
she lives no Bell of Atri need ring its
accusing tones to remind us of our duty
toward Glad.
MILITARY LIFE IN EARLY DAYS
By CHARLES S. GERLACH
(A true story from the diary of an Army officer)
HE time when the event I am
about to narrate took place,
Fort Randall, Dakota Terri-
tory, was garrisoned by the
Fourth United States Artil-
lery. The large gains made in supplying
the soldiers and Indians, at the nearby
Yankton Sioux Indian Agency, with whis-
key, induced unprincipled, bold men to
engage in it.
One of the boldest spirits among them
was one Jean Baptiste, a French half-
breed who was camped in fancied security
with an assistant, an old Indian, about
ten- miles south of the fort. He was dis-
covered by two officers while out hunting.
Mistaking them for enlisted men he
became familiar, they encouraged him, and
finally were entrusted with a message to
his chief agent in the post, arranging for a
meeting and delivery of some of the goods
the following night.
One of the officers returned to the garri-
son, the other staid out, guarding against
the possibility of further communication
with the post. It was shortly after taps
when I was ordered to report to the Com-
manding Officer's quarters. Here I found
Lieutenant B — - and six other men.
We were handed pistols, and then quietly
stole out of the garrison, going south.
About eleven o'clock we halted, the
Lieutenant and myself on the trail, the
remainder close by. Soon the moon came
up, and about fifteen minutes after,
we heard footsteps approaching. This
turned out to be the officer who had re-
mained out. He reported all working
well in front, and Baptiste approaching
unconscious of danger.
We were not long kept in suspense, the
wagon came up. Baptiste recognized his
visitors of the morning, and was about
to lift a keg out of the wagon, when he
noticed the absence of his confederate.
He had mistaken me for him, as we were
about the 'same size and build. Instantly
smelling treason he broke to the right and
was off on a dead run into the wrought
country alongside the trail.
A whistle from Lieutenant B — — and
our whole party was in pursuit. Some
shots were fired, but went wild in the ex-
citement. Baptiste, armed too, returned
our compliments, running. I was closest
to him and counted his shots. He had
sent back, without damage, six bullets,
when his artillery became suddenly silent,
just as he approached the side of a rough,
steep gully, which was filled with bushes
and weeds. Luck, however, forsook him.
He slipped, fell, and knowing that he had
not another, I made a bold dash and was
upon him, my pistol at a ready thrust
into his face: "D n you, I wish I had
IN THE COSY CORNER
897
another shot!" were the words which
greeted me. "More and I'll blow your
cursed head off!" was my reply. It was
effective.
A call:— "This way Lieutenant!"—
brought help, and Baptiste was marched
back to the wagon, bound with a rawhide
lariat he had brought himself, and carried
into the post.
A party immediately sent back to his
camp succeeded in finding his stock in
trade, also an old valise, his treasure box,
containing some of his ill-gotten gains in
hard gold.
Ten years in penitentiary was Baptiste 's
sentence, when tried the next fall in a
United States Court at St. Josephs.
* * *
MY EXPERIENCE WITH DOGS
By M. S. H.
ALWAYS have I wondered at the
peculiar incidents that have
taken place in my life in which
dogs have shown an unusual
fondness for me, especially since I have
merely a liking for them, the same as a
woman has for any animal, yet no deep-
seated affection for this species of an
animal any more than another. I do not
like to touch a dog, and have never had
one as a pet.
Some years ago I was returning from a
friend's where I had remained the night.
I wished to walk home, because it was a
beautiful summer morning. While stroll-
ing along the road, an immense dog of
powerful build came up to me. I looked
at him casually, and he trotted on by my
side; I thought he must be following me
home, and tried in vain to drive him back.
In the turn of the road, I met two ferocious
looking tramps, traveling my way. My
canine friend walked even closer to me,
and as I passed the ruffians, the hair
raised on his neck and he showed his
fangs. I quickened my footsteps and the
dog followed me until I was within sight
of home, when I asked a butcher to take
him back. He followed very willingly.
What instinct prompted that dog to pro-
tect me?
One cold winter night, at another time,
I was hurrying home when a large white
dog came and prostrated himself before
me. I spoke to him and he leaped up and
tried to touch my shoulder. I admit I
was afraid of him. He followed me home,
falling every little while before me. I
offered him food, thinking he was hungry.
He did not eat it, but continued his queer
form of dog worship. He was in our front
door the next morning.
In the office where I am an editor, there
used to come a tiny mite of a dog, not
much larger than my double fists, who
tore madly up the stairs to get into the
editorial sanctum, and when he reached
me, was wild with delight. I never touched
him, merely laughed' at his antics.
A white dog followed me on the street
car, and the conductor said I could not
take my dog. I said the dog was not mine.
I rode three miles, and found the dog
awaiting me when I left the car.
I would feel ashamed to think I was a
dog hypnotist, but I must look like a kind
friend, for all dogs are fond of me, and
a word or look from me makes the ugliest
cur on the street follow me to my destina-
tion. I might feel flattered, were I a dog
lover, which I certainly am not. But the
experiences make me wonder why these
events have taken place.
SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT
By MARIE PHELAN
AST Summer my sister and
I spent a delightful week-
end taking a round trip
on one of those little
side-wheelers plying the
Chesapeake Bay and
poking their saucy little
noses into wharves along
the Eastern Shore of Maryland and the
Virginia coast. The steamer was primitive
according to "floating palace" standards,
.but it was a glorious trip. We left the
city at five — I mean two-bells, a perfect
time, for then one sees the sunset and the
soft loveliness of twilight closing in on the
shoreline, and we looked around us with
a sigh of gratitude when we realized that
we were having a boat ride without a
lunchbasket jammed against our backs
or a pathetic ballad wailed in our ears.
898
IN THE COSY CORNER
Why do people sing on the water? They
never do on an excursion train.
The other passengers turned in early,
but we were enjoying the night too much
to go into the bandbox stateroom. By
and by the captain came out to smoke,
oblivious of us back in the corner, and
later the good-looking purser came with
a lantern.
"Going to be out here long?" he asked,
and I wish I could convey some idea of
his delightful Virginian accent. The
captain nodded. "My girl is going to
Boston on the 'Kershaw' tonight," con-
tinued the soft voice, "and I told her when
the ships passed I'd wave a lantern to
her. She'll be out on deck. When the
'Kershaw' passes wave this lantern.
Thanks. Good-night."
"Men are deceivers ever," sighed my
sister.
Several weeks later we heard the sequel.
The dashing stenographer at our office
was telling about her vacation trip.
"And I have the best joke on John,"
(her fiance), she said. "You know his
boat went out at five o'clock, an hour
before ours, but of course ours was very
much faster than that little tug and we
were due to pass in the Bay. I promised
John I would be out on deck when the
boats passed and he was to wave a lantern
to me, but instead of sailing at six the
'Kershaw' loaded iron rails all night —
think of it! Of course I couldn't sleep a
wink, but I nearly died laughing lying there
to think of John hanging over the railing
of his boat with a lantern looking for the
'Kershaw.' The • joke was on him all
right."
But whom was the joke on — the purser
peacefully sleeping in his berth or the
laughing girl?
A PECULIAR EXPERIENCE
By M. B.
FEW days after my mother
left Seattle for Alaska one win-
ter, I was lying in a perfectly
relaxed state quietly resting.
Suddenly as plainly as if I gazed at the
living, dashing waters, I saw a rugged
rockbound coast and driven by a storm-
ridden sea, a ship was gradually being
dashed toward that rocky shore. Vividly
white the boat shone out from the dark,
stormy atmosphere and plainer still was
the name of the ship in letters of brass.
For days I was filled with horror but a
letter finally came telling of mother's
safe arrival after a terrible trip, the rough-
est ever known at that time of year. I
went to the dock and there beheld the
S. S. , the very one I had beheld
at the time of my vision, if it may be
called that, a boat I had never seen before.
HIS FIRST COMMAND
By C. E. WATERMAN
F ANYONE should happen to
pass through the hilltop village
of Paris in the state of Maine,
he might see surmounting a door-
way of one of the dwellings a
wooden figure, resembling a lion.
This was the figure-head of the old man-
of-war Trenton, and the residence is
that of Rear Admiral Henry W. Lyon.
It suggests a story, for the Trenton was
the admiral's first command, and a very
singular command it was, too. It was
away back in 1889, when the admiral was
simply a lieutenant, that he had the com-
mand of this vessel, after the great hurri-
cane which wrecked three American men-
of-war, three German men-of-war and
one English man-of-war in the harbor
of Apia in the Samoan Islands. The
Trenton was the flagship of the American
squadron and Lieutenant Lyon was her
executive officer. She was bounced around
the harbor very violently during the hurri-
cane and finally sank in shoal water near
the beach. When the sea settled to its
normal condition, she lay with her upper
deck out of water. Every ship, even
though wrecked, must have a commander
as long as she remains on the naval register,
and Lieutenant Lyon was given this vessel
as his first command — rather a humorous
situation, as he could only walk her upper
decks.
His second command was also a singular
one, although it was anything but humor-
ous. The hurricane came up very sud-
IN THE COSY CORNER
denly, and none but the English warships
had steam up, so the Americans and
Germans were caught like rats in a trap,
while the English were able to get out to
sea and therefore save the larger part of
their fleet. This fact was rather humiliat-
ing to the American and German admirals,
and they tried to save some of their
stranded vessels. Admiral Kimberley,
of the American fleet, picked upon the
Nipsic as the least injured of the lot,
raised her and sent her to Honolulu, the
nearest naval station, fifteen hundred
miles away, also under the command of
Lieutenant Lyon. She was a floating
coffin, with neither mast, keel or rudder.
She could only steam five knots an hour
and she could not carry coal enough to
take her to Honolulu; therefore she was
obliged to put in to Fanning Island, about
midway of the distance, to await the re-
turn of her consort, which had been sent
to Hawaii to secure a collier.
Fanning Island is an atoll about eleven
miles long by eight wide, a ring of land
surrounding a lagoon about a mile wide.
The entire island is owned by a Scotch-
man, who, with his wife, lives on it in
regal style. They have about twenty-
five coolies with their families, and are
engaged in raising cocoanuts.
The Nipsic stayed at this island about
eight weeks, when she was re-coaled and
set out on the balance of her voyage to
Honolulu, where she arrived without
serious mishap.
* * *
HOLMAN DAY'S INFORMANT
By ALICE MAY DOUGLAS
JOLMAN DAY, whose "Squire
H4g Phin" is making so favorable
an impression upon the read-
ing public, often visited Shiloh
— the religious school in Dur-
ham, Maine, founded by Rev.
Frank Sanford, to report its doings for the
Lewiston Journal.
Although Elijah, as Sanford proclaims
himself, does not welcome newspaper
reporters to his domains, he has always
had a warm place in his heart for Mr.
Day and long ago styled him John, the
Beloved Disciple. One time after Mr.
Day had visited Shiloh, he went into a
barber shop in Lisbon Falls, a village near
by, and Mr. Sanford chanced to be in
the chair. The barber, not knowing who
it was that he was shaving, for this latter
day prophet is seldom seen in his own
vicinity, fell into a conversation with Mr.
Day, which led to a discussion of the
strange community across the river,
during which the barber said, "Frank
Sanford may be a religious crank, but he
is nobody's d fool," and "Elijah"
and Day enjoyed the joke in silence.
WHEN ALL SIGNS FAILED
By E. D. Y. TILDEN
E AND I were returning from
an exciting motorcycle ride
through a country road, in a
mountainous district. Only
those who have "been
through the mill" can ap-
preciate such an experience. We tossed
over ruts like a row-boat on a billowy
sea. We plowed through the deepest
sand; more than once we "had to get off
and walk"; we ran out of oil; and to cap
the Climax, we had a grand and glorious
tumble down a ravine coated with stickers.
When we had gathered ourselves together,
counted our arms and legs, to see that
none were missing, and extracted the most
prominent stickers, we began to remember
that we had started out on a wheel.
We immediately began to search for
our "fiery steed." There it lay half way
down the slide, scarcely visible for the
bramble bushes. There was no way out
of it — we must follow the example of "the
man in our town" — jump into the "bramble
bush and scratch out both eyes." Well,
we came mighty near it, only in our case
it was noses.
Imagine our. dismay upon discovering
that one pedal was among the missing —
and twenty-five miles of that atrocious
road between us and home. What could
we do? Verily, verily, one never knows
what he can do till he tries. We tried,
and succeeded — in a manner, but we were
on the road home, anyway.
We had left about three-quarters of
the distance in our wake. It was getting
900
IN THE COSY CORNER
dark. "The Professor" said: "I'm not
quite sure of my bearings, and we have
no time to waste. Suppose you hop off,
and see what that sign-post says."
As became an obedient wife, I "hopped
off" and ran over to read the sign. This
is what it said: "Use Pyle's Pearline."
It was some time before we could regain
our composure sufficiently to "move on."
At last we were on our journey again.
It was getting darker and darker, and we
weren't sure that we were on the right
road. However, we kept on; there was
nothing else to do. We met several people
but, unfortunately, they all seemed to be
in the same predicament.
"At last," sighed "The Professor,"
"there's a sign that looks like 'the real
thing.' ':
Again I "hopped off" and ran to read
that sign — it seemed like an oasis in a
desert. I couldn't speak for a few minutes
after the reading took place. This is the
report I had to make — "Beware of the
bull."
For the remainder of our trip, we left
signs severely alone and followed our noses.
HE WAS EQUAL TO IT
By INEZ D. COOPER
EARS ago, in Little Rock,
Arkansas, there ruled over
the Catholic diocese two
priests — brothers — who, be-
ing natives of the town,
were affectionately called
Father Tom and Father Pat.
Father Pat was young, esthetic and inclined
to be over strict. There probably never
lived a better student of human nature
than Father Tom — and how his parish did
love him!
There was a member of his church, an
old lad of about his own age — near sixty —
who had classed with him at school. This
man Father Tom had never been able
to break of the habit of drinking, although
about twice a year he used to go over and
thrash him, when the old fellow would
straighten out for several months.
While on his beat one morning a re-
porter for the Gazette, hearing an unusual
noise, hurried to the spot, reaching it just
in time to find Father Tom emerging from
the old sinner's shop, whip in hand, plainly
victor of the occasion.
He knew the reporter and the reporter
knew him — indeed, he was indebted to
Father Tom for many a story not obtain-
able elsewhere.
Giving a parting warning to the old
parishioner the priest turned to the repre-
sentative of the press with :
"And, young man, if I see anything of
this in the paper, I'll give you some."
"And," added the reporter gleefully,
in telling it years after, "the old boy would
certainly have kept his word!"
* * *
SAVED FROM DEATH
By KATHERINE T.
I think of a narrow
escape from death I had in
a terrible Iowa blizzard when
I was a young girl fourteen
years of age.
Forty years ago part of Iowa was an
unbroken prairie; one might travel niles
and miles and not see any trees, save only
those set out by the new settlers. My
parents moved to a farm of one hundred
and sixty acres when I was about eight
years old, and in a few years I had to take
the place of housekeeper, for my mother
became a helpless invalid.
One pretty winter day the first of De-
cember, they let me go to visit -with a girl
friend from the village, three miles from
home. I was to stay all night and come
home the next forenoon in time to dp the
morning's work, but when morning came
a fierce snowstorm had set in, and we
knew as we saw the fine snow whirling
that we. were to have a blizzard in a very
short time.
I was afraid I could not get home that
day at all, but I was determined to keep
my promise so against the wishes of my
friend I set forth. I was a strong, healthy
girl and didn't mind the walk at all, but
I was frightened about the storm. When
near home I could save a mile by going
across a pasture of eighty acres through
which the boys of the neighborhood had
made a path but when I reached the spot
the storm had increased in fury so I could
IN THE COSY CORNER
901
not see anything but snow. I began to
realize my danger.
I lost my courage and sank down in
the snow and thought I would surely
have to die out there all alone. But after
getting my breath and remembering my
poor old mother watching for me, I
struggled up and tried it again. I waded
round and round until my groping hands
touched the fence that enclosed the
pasture, and oh, how thankful I was, for
I knew by following the fence I could get
home. My parents were nearly frantic
for fear I would perish in the snow which,
no doubt, I would have done had it been
bitter cold, for I was over three hours on
the journey. The good Lord was indeed
caring for His little ones.
DOUBLE-BARRELLED CANNON
By MRS. R. A. ELLIS
WAS in Athens, Georgia, the
seat of this state's great uni-
versity, on the occasion of a
civic parade recently, and I
saw a most curious relic of
that terrific conflict between the North
and the South, the Civil War.
"Why, isn't that a double-barrelled
cannon?" I asked, in astonishment, of a
citizen in whose carriage I rode as guest
of honor.
"Yes, indeed," answered the patrician
Southerner, "and the only one in the
world, at that. We are very proud of it,
and it constitutes a never-omitted feature
of our parades and pageants."
"Tell me the history of this unique gun,"
I begged.
"I should scarcely call it notable, his-
torically speaking," he laughed, "yet
unique it is undeniably, and a quaint little
story hangs about it."
He told me then that the cannon had
been modeled and cast during the Civil
War, an eccentric old man, native to the
town, being its inventor. It was built for
purposes of defence, should the town be
besieged by the "Yankees"; and the novel
theory of its constructor was that if one
cannon-ball could do such deadly execu-
tion, then two, chained together and issu-
ing simultaneously from the twin barrels,
would simply mow down the enemy's
ranks like grain under the thresher.
"Was it ever fired?" I asked, tre-
mendously interested.
"Oh, yes," replied my host. "It was
fired once, experimentally. In spite of
the superlative faith and emphatic as-
surances of the inventor, there must have
been some skepticism rife, for every
possible precaution was taken in advance —
such as having a thirty-acre barren hill-
side lying out in front. Well, when the
firing had been done, you ought to have
seen that slope. Thoroughly ploughed
up? I should say so. You see, as might
have been anticipated, one ball came
out just a shade ahead of the other, so
imparting a strange whirligig motion to
the coupled missiles. The spectators?
Oh, strictly under cover during the whole
ploughing up of the hillside."
"Hardly likely, then, that it will ever
be fired again?"
"No. But it will always remain one
of the treasured possessions of our little
city. Generation after generation, the
Varsity boys throng to pay their respects
to it, as each new session opens."
Laughing, we drove on in the wake of
the quaint gun, as it wheeled down one
of the beautifully shaded avenues of the
classic town.
SAD FATE OF TIGE
By LOUISE ANNAH
iNCE when I was but a wee bit
of a girl my mother and I
were upon one of our frequent
visits to my grandparents
at their house in the country, where my
great-grandparents also lived. During
our visit a few of the neighbors came over
to help spend one of the long winter
evenings in a hospitable way. After the
men folks had smoked together and the
women had told the gossip of the day,
they decided to go to my great-grand-
parents' rooms and help make the evening
less lonesome for them. As they arose,
my aunt laid her sleeping baby in the
cradle, and left her there with me.
After they had gone I thought I would
play with Tige, the "Thomas" cat, who
902
IN THE COSY CORNER
was sleeping upon the couch near the
stove. He was fifteen years old and the
special pride of my grandfather; he some-
what resembled a wild cat in his great
size, his coat of dark yellow and gray
stripes, and his large, listless green eyes.
But Tige was not to be turned out of
his comfortable place. He refused to
budge or respond to my pettings by even
so much as purring. So after this fruit-
less attempt at coaxing him to abandon
his preoccupied mood, I left him alone and
soon after followed his example by curling
myself up in a similar position at the head
of the couch.
A short time after I became aware of a
sort of gasping sound — little, short gasps.
I awoke with a start. My eyes fell upon
my little cousin in the cradle. It was from
thence that the gasping sound ensued.
Tige, the cat, was firmly planted upon the
breast of the sleeping infant, slowly taking
away its breath, strangling it.
I had never before known of anything
like this and could hardly believe that
Tige was harming the child. Yet I had
a premonition that something was wrong,
as I sprang up quickly and going to the
cradle tugged with all my might to dis-
lodge his huge body, in vain.
Then I screamed loudly. My cry
penetrated the half -opened door of great-
grandfather's room. They all rushed out,
but grandfather was the first to realize
the danger and to act. I remember well
how he looked as he stood there in the door-
way with his pipe in his hand.
But it was only for a moment. The pipe
fell. With one long stride he was at the
side of the cradle followed close by the
frantic mother. An awful expression of
rage swept over his face as he seized the
cat with a frenzied grip and impulsively,
blindly, even mechanically, lifted the lid
of the stove near by and plunged Tige,
his pet, into the fire to be consumed by
the roaring flames.
Perhaps I ought to make some 'apology
for the seemingly cruel act of my grand-
father. The best I can do is to assure you,
as any of his friends and his enemies (if
he had any) could have, that he was one
of the biggest, best and most kind-hearted
men in the country. He acted on the im-
pulse of the moment, without thinking
that while he was saving the life of a
human being, he was putting another
creature into misery.
LITTLE BENNY'S BEETLES
By MRS. M. J. GIDDINGS
, EARLY every farmer's boy is
familiar with the May beetle,
for in the spring they emerge
from the ground -. in great
numbers. It is a singular
sight to see the beetles of all sizes and
shapes from light to dark brown, as the
plough exposes them to view.
Bennie was the child of a neighbor,
who in his visits with his mother had often
seen our case of preserved insects and had
been with my sister on her walks in search
of new specimens, and he wished most
earnestly to serve us.
One bright May morning he came in
where we sat at our sewing, and spying
a quantity of gay bits of worsted left from
some fancy work, he asked if he might
have them to put in his pocket.
His mother had just finished his first
pair of trousers, and as he rejoiced in two
pockets — everything available found its
way into one or the other of them. He
picked up the bright, many-hued worsteds,
and put a good handful into each pocket;
then seeing one of the farm hands pass the
window, he hurried out to go with him to
the field.
They were ploughing and the May
beetles were very abundant, and Bennie
conceived the brilliant idea of using his
new pockets, and helping us to specimens
at the same time, so he picked up handful
after handful of beetles and thrust them
into his pockets. After a while he came
running in calling "Aunt May, Aunt May,
I've dot somefin' for you, I'se dot lots of
'em too. I 'spect you'll be pleased wiv'
'em."
He rushed forward toward me, and put-
ting a hand into each pocket he drew forth
the most comical mass that I ever saw,
and laid it in my lap, then more and more
still, till I was almost convulsed with
laughter. There were the poor beetles
with their rough legs entangled in the gay
threads, which clung to them the closer
IN THE COSY CORNER
903
the more they tried to free themselves,
and they tumbled over each other, big
ones and little ones, squirming and claw-
ing in the most astonishing fashion.
Truly, I thought, I had beetles in my
apron enough to supply all the naturalists
in the United States. Along with the
beetles and tangled with the worsteds,
there were crumbs of gingerbread, a piece
of chewing gum, some dried apples, three
fat caterpillars, a few kernels of popping
corn, and an angle worm. He had taken
from the mass a piece of red and white
candy, which he was industriously trying
to free from the fuzzy wool, which cov-
ered it, preparatory to putting it in his
mouth.
He told his mother later that "he fought
Aunt May was mos' tickled to def wiv
'em, 'cause she laughed so — she did!"
Little Benny was a real boy and a dear
little fellow.
THE DAY OF THE COMET
By MRS. L. A. STEBBINS
WAS born in 1827, and can
remember most of the great
events that have occurred
since I was five years old.
Then I lived among the
Vermont hills and all events
over and children were
taught to be good listeners, and there
was not so much to drive an important
happening from the mind before it had
made its impression.
My first introduction to the marvelous
was one morning in November after
I was six years old. One of our neighbors,
a man past fifty years, came in with
such a look of wonder and surprise, and
said to my mother:
"Such a sight as I saw this morning.
The stars were all out of their places, and
the whole heavens were ablaze. I thought
the end of the world had come."
He had risen early to go out to his
barn and so had seen the wonderful sight.
He was the only one I ever heard speak of
it as an eye-witness.
This happened among the hills of a
Vermont town. The people were all the
descendants of the settlers that came from
were talked
Massachusetts. They were a Bible-read-
ing people and they looked upon this
marvelous sight as the beginning of the
signs of the ending of the world.
In 1832 the cholera seemed to follow the
Erie Canal, and many died in the different
cities.
The next year it began to be published
that a comet was coming that was to
destroy the world. A cousin of my father
visited us from Utica, New York. He was
a very religious man, and like so many
others thought the pestilence and the
signs in the heavens were but the fulfil-
ment of the Bible prophecies.
I used to listen and believe all I heard,
and the night after -the "shooting stars"
I went out to look at the stars and I found
them all back in their places.
I remember I got the Bible and read
the last chapter in- the Old Testament,
where it spoke of the earth being burned,
and I asked my mother about it. She
did not believe the end was coming, but
she said if it did, it would not last long
and I need not worry. But the talk con-
tinued, and the comet came and went,
and we were all alive.
Then there was more Bible study and
the time of the ending of the world was
fixed for some time in 1842. There were
revival meetings and much religious ex-
citement, and people began to make
ready for the end. Some gave away
their property and others made ready
their ascension robes.
But the day came and went, and still
the earth remained. Many became insane.
Others took up their work, still feeling
they must be ready, for the call might come
suddenly, like a thief in the night.
As I think of the comet that appeared
last year, it does not seem so bright or
large as the one I saw in the early forties.
But that was in the w'nter, and the skies
were clearer. I tcld all the people I met,
who had young children, to show them the
comet and explain how long it would be
before dwellers on this earth would see it
again. Someone whom I know, who is
two years younger than I, remembers
her mother having shown the comet to
her in the forties, but does not recollect
its appearance clearly enough to describe
it.
904
IN THE COSY CORNER
This is a part of my experience as a child,
and now I am among those who waited
to see the comet a second time, not with
fear, but with thankfulness that I can
remember so much of the wonder it created
when it came before. It did not cause so
much excitement with its latest appear-
ance.
IT WAS THE LIMIT
By A. SHAW
| HE first responsible position
I ever held, when a young
man, was that of deputy
postmaster in a county seat
town of some twelve hun-
dred inhabitants. I received
the princely salary of six
dollars per month, and my hours were
from seven o'clock in the morning until
nine to eleven at night, depending upon
the arrival of the stage, the regularity
of which was subject to prevailing weather
conditions. It was during the years of
'62 and '63 when railroads were few and
far between and rural free delivery un-
thought of. All the people of the town-
ship received their mail at this office, and
it was customary for any member of a
suburban settlement upon coming to town
to inquire for mail for each neighbor in
the settlement. When, as was frequently
the case, a half dozen persons from the
same neighborhood came to town the
same day, and all came to the post-office
and inquired for the neighborhood mail,
it was extremely interesting for the post-
master and his deputy. Nothing short
of a thorough inspection of all letters
in each pigeon-hole marked with the initial
of the name inquired for, would satisfy
anyone calling for mail. One Saturday
at the close of the month, while working
on the monthly report, I was called to
the general delivery window by a young
woman some seventeen or eighteen years
of age, carrying an old-fashioned splint
woven basket, full of onions, which she
placed in the window in front of her. (I
can smell those onions yet). It was the
first visit of the young woman to the post-
office since I had become a member of
Uncle Sam's official family. After thor-
oughly looking me over, she said: "Do
you belong in there?" After partially
convincing her that I did, she asked: "Is
they enny mail fur our folks?" "What
is the name?" "Whose name — mine?"
"Yes, your name will do!" "I'm Mandy
Horner, we live down on the crick!" "No
mail for the name of Horner," said I.
"They ain't?— well, that's funny. Ma's
lookin' fur a letter!"
- I sat down and took up my pen, but
not for long as the young woman did not
leave the window.
"Is they enny mail fur Ez Walker's
folks?" "Nothing for Mr. Walker's
family," I replied after looking. "His
wife's bin awful sick, a letter frum her
folks ud du her good." "Ain't ennything
fur John Evans's, is they?" "Mr. Evans
was here himself and got his mail." At
this time a bunch of letters for the out-
going mail, laying on the table, caught
her eye. "Maw got a letter wunst the
color uf that yeller one in there — mebby
that's fur her."
Some half dozen people who had fallen
in line behind the woman now succeeded
in edging her away from the window, and
after attending to their wants I 'again
sat down to my writing. "Say," came
over my shoulder in a familiar voice,
and on looking up to the window, there
stood Mandy with the basket of onions.
"Did Will Evans git a letter in a girl's
handwritin' here last week?" I replied
that I really did not know. "Well, I'd
jist like tu find out, for sure." With a
very disappointed look upon her face, she
turned and went out. I had just got com-
fortably seated and taken up my work
when I was again called to the window.
Mandy had returned. Setting the basket
of onions in front of her on the window,
she very deliberately inquired: "Is they
anny uther post-office in town?" After
answering her question in the negative,
I felt that I was entitled to the privilege
of asking at least one question, so I said:
"What are you going to do with the
onions?" Picking up the basket and smil-
ing for the first time as she turned away,
"Oh, I'm goin' tu trade 'em fur bakin'
soda fur ma."
SCENE IN JAMESTOWN, NORTH DAKOTA
J^eeb of ;Jflore Eatltoaps! in tfje
By W. C. JENKINS
DRESIDENT TAFT'S policy of reci-
* procity has served to focus the attention
of the people of the United States on the
great Northwest, for a time at least.
It has served to call attention to a great
agricultural empire that within a com-
paratively short time has become an im-
portant factor in furnishing mankind with
the necessities of life. It has brought into
the limelight a territory whose natural re-
sources are such that in spite of disadvan-
tages the country has developed itself.
The Northwest territory has within the
past five years come into prominence as
one of the great sources of the world's
wheat supply; but how the grain shall be
conveyed to its ultimate destination in
this and foreign countries, with the least
possible expense, has been a question of
more than ordinary concern since the
Canadian Northwest ceased to be a fron-
tier country.
Within the last five years cities and
towns have bloomed in the wilderness of
the Northwest after a night's growth.
Five years ago you could get the very
best quality of virgin land in Saskatchewan
within less than a half day's drive from a
railroad. Today free lands of the first
quality cannot be gotten within two weeks'
drive of a railroad. Good arable lands
within a reasonable distance of a market
sell at twenty-five dollars an acre, and it
is hard to get them even at that price.
But a few years ago the entire West .was
a pasture for Buffalo. Today it is the
scene of business activity and a contented
people. Three great trunk lines cross
from east to west with many branch lines.
In the beginning the settlers followed the
trunk lines, then the branch lines followed
the settlers.
Surely this great Northwest territory
is a country worth being considered in
legislative halls and in financial centers.
President Taft is fully aware of its im-
portance. He recognizes the force of the
prediction made by the late Governor
Johnson of Minnesota, who said: "At
some moment a great leader will arise
(905)
906 THE NEED OF MORE RAILWAYS IN THE NORTHWEST
in the Northwest. He will thunder at the
doors of Congress, voicing the demands
of this fertile empire so absurdly bisected
by an artificial boundary that at least all
the commercial obstacles must be over-
thrown. A way will be found to tear
FRANK K. BULL
President of Midland Continental Railroad
down those mediaeval obstructions in
the natural channels of trade."
In his speech on reciprocity at Spring-
field, Illinois, President Taft said: "There
is a difference of ten or more cents a bushel
on wheat and other cereals between the
markets of Winnepeg and Minneapolis,
but this difference is fully explained by
the lack of transportation and elevator
facilities, and by the greater difficulty
that the Canadian farmer now has in
point of economic carriage from the
Northwest to Liverpool, where by the sale
of the world's surplus the price of wheat
is fixed 'for the world.
"To let the wheat of the Northwest come
down to Minneapolis and Chicago will
steady the price of wheat, will prevent
its fluctuations, will make much more
difficult speculation, and will furnish us
greater insurance against the short crops
and high prices. But that it will in the
end, or substantially, reduce the price of
wheat, which is fixed for the world in
Liverpool, no one familiar with the con-
ditions will assert.
"It will give to the United States much
greater control of the wheat market than
it ever has had before. It will enable
its milling plants to turn Canadian wheat
into flour and send abroad the finished
product, and it will stimulate the^sale of
HERBERT S. DUNCOMBE
Counsel for Midland Continental Railroad
manufactures and other things that we
have to sell to Canada.
"By the bringing over of live cattle the
farmer who has com will have his raw
material in abundance and will fatten
them for the Chicago market at a profit.
"This artificial barrier between the
wheat fields of Dakota and the wheat
fields of Manitoba, Assiniboia and Sas-
katchewan will be taken down, the con-
THE NEED OF MORE RAILWAYS IN THE NORTHWEST 907
ditions of distance and facility of ware-
housing and transportation will still affect
the price, and the price will vary between
Canada and the United States at the point
of production, as it does now in the various
states. Trade will be stimulated on both
sides of the line. Avenues of communi-
cation north and south will be substi-
tuted for those east and west and pros-
perity will attend the union of business
in both countries."
That the farmers of the great north-
west are a prosperous class is apparent to
anyone who visits that territory. There
The history of the transcontinental lines
through the Northwest reads like a romance.
It is a history of daring adventure and
never-ceasing struggle. The battle for
supremacy has been full of excitement, and
the contest has been carried to every im-
portant financial center in Europe and
America. There must be Pacific Coast
trunk lines in order to feed the millions
of people who have settled in the extreme
West, but to accomplish these undertakings
almost insurmountable difficulties had to
be overcome. Nations have been blotted
from maps for less than it cost to build
BUSINESS BLOCK IN JAMESTOWN, NORTH DAKOTA
has been a radical change in their condi-
tion during recent years. Not very
long ago there was an agitation in the
West for a law authorizing the federal
government to loan money to the farmers
to buy seed and farm implements. Today
these farmers are money lenders. They
are supplying the banks with funds to
loan to the merchants and manufacturers.
But they are demanding more and better
railway facilities, and today the railroad
which draws its principal traffic from the
farm population is in a better financial
condition and has a vastly more' hopeful
future than the railroad which is depen-
dent entirely upon a traffic that emanates
from a waning manufacturing or mining
section.
railroads over some of the mountain
passes of the West. But the Hills, Hunt-
ingtons and Harrimans were determined
men and the word "fail" was not a part of
their vocabulary.
Previous to 1871 much of the great
northwestern territory was nothing but
a pathless waste. The settlement of the
Dakotas began when the engineers who
were surveying the routes of the northern
Pacific located the crossing of the line
over the Red River at Fargo. This cross-
ing was effected July 4, 1871, and from
that date the growth of the Dakotas has
been continuous and rapid. Farmers
went into the new territory and settled
along the rich valley of the Red*River
north and south of Fargo and many fol-
908 THE NEED OF MORE RAILWAYS IN THE NORTHWEST
lowed the line of the Northern Pacific
Railway as it continued on its way to the
coast. For the first decade the settlement
was confined largely along the railway, but
later branch lines made it possible for the
settlers to extend their sphere of operation.
The next period of activity began in
ing of the two roads under one financial
management.
But these battles of financial grants were
hardly noticed by the great army of settlers
who were marching into the fertile fields
of the Northwest. It was conceded that
the vast area was "Jim Hill territory" and
WHY THE DAKOTAS FEED A CONTINENT
1880, when the Great Northern Railway
crossed the Red River at Grand Forks
and continued on its way through the
northern part of the state, opening up
fresh territory and with many feeder lines
furnishing to the new settlers marketing
facilities for their grain and produce.
Between the Great Northern and North-
ern Pacific it was a case of the survival
it was known that no trespassing would
be permitted. The settlers were satisfied
with the east and west railway facilities,
but they needed outlets to the south. At
the same time practical statesmanship in
the United States recognized the necessity
of a closer relationship with Canada.
Nearly all the railroad development
through the Dakotas and the Canadian
A NORTH DAKOTA WHEAT FIELD
of the fittest. In the early nineties the
Northern Pacific was composed of fifty-
one different companies all combined into
one system. It cost fifty per cent more
to operate per average mile than the Hill
road. When the panic of 1893 came the
Great Northern was earning ten per cent
on its $20,000,000 stock while the North-
ern Pacific was struggling under the
heavy*operating expenses of its different
organizations, which resulted in the plac-
Northwest has been westward. This, too,
in face of the fact that Bismark, North
Dakota, is three hundred and fifty miles
nearer the Gulf of Mexico than the
Atlantic seaboard. The same peculiar
condition is true of Northwest Canada.
The grain of that territory can only be
exported via Montreal or the Pacific.
An outlet to the Gulf of Mexico would
be worth millions to that fertile and pros-
perous territory.
THE NEED OF MORE RAILWAYS IN THE NORTHWEST 909
The possibility of reciprocity with
Canada is not causing any great worry
among the farmers on this side of the
border. They realize that such a measure
will be of distinct benefit to them in that
it will stimulate the building of additional
railroads, thus affording better and cheaper
marketing facilities. One of the important
economic developments since the first of
this year has been the tendency to decrease
the cost to consumers of food products.
If this tendency is maintained the American
farmers need fear very little from Canada
in the way of competition in our own
markets for agricultural or dairy products.
to northwest, joining the Canadian Pacific
Railway north of the boundary line.
A new company, known as the Midland
Continental Railroad, has been incor-
porated to build a line in a northerly and
southerly direction, and work on the new
project is well under way.
The idea of building a north and south
railroad was the result of experiences of
Mr. Frank K. Bull, President of the
J. I. Case Threshing Machine Company,
Racine, Wisconsin, and Herbert S. Dun-
combe, a practicing attorney in Chicago.
Mr. Bull's company has, for the last
ten years, shipped a large number of cars
ON A DAKOTA PRAIRIE
Regardless of the enactment of any
reciprocity treaties the Northwest will
continue to be the mecca for homeseekers
and investors for many years. Capitalists
will find many opportunities for invest-
ments, and the construction of additional
railroads will demand large amounts of
money. The Dakotas are very friendly
to railway enterprises, and development
along these lines has been both healthy
and rapid, and has been accomplished in
a friendly spirit of mutual confidence
between the corporations and the people.
Three great trunk lines pass through
North Dakota — the Great Northern
Railway running east and west on its way
to the coast through the northern part
of the state; the NorthernPacific paralleling
the Great Northern about a hundred
miles to the south, and the "Soo Line"
following a diagonal course from southeast
of freight annually in that territory and,
by reason of the fact, Mr. Bull became
intimately acquainted with the traffic
conditions, freight rates, the growth of
that territory and the possible profit from
a north and south railroad. j**
Mr. Duncombe was employed by clients
to examine municipal light, heat and
water bonds in that territory, and was
obliged to make frequent trips for that
purpose.
Mr. Bull and Mr. Duncombe being
thrown together in the business enter-
prises, their common experiences were
formulated into a syndicate which put
out a crew of men reconnoitering the central
western states. Both Mr. Bull and Mr.
Duncombe have covered the territory by
wagon, automobile and on foot, almost
from Winnipeg to the Gulf. Reconnoiter-
ing crews were turned out, temporary
910
TWO LIGHTS
surveying lines were run and those lines
were submitted to experts on traffic con-
ditions, engineers and builders; profiles
were carefully examined, the territory
analyzed, cost of construction was esti-
mated, profits computed, and after care-
ful investigation of all conditions, a per-
manent line was run from the Missouri
River to Pembina, a distance of some five
hundred miles. Considerable time was
spent in investigation, but since the
permanent line has been located progress
has been made, as speedily as possible
along economical lines, in the construction
of the road.
The building of the South Dakota
Central Railroad, a north and south line,
was a new departure four years ago, but
it demonstrated the fact that the demands
of the people will ultimately be recog-
nized. This road has been a very profitable
undertaking for its constructors and is
a great success. It is of great advantage
to the farmers of the territory it traverses.
Men who are interested in the develop-
ment of the Northwest have no time to
waste in a discussion of sentimental
politics; but they are interested in the
progress of the work on the Panama
Canal, *the organization of new railway
companies and the improvement of grades
and service on the transcontinental lines.
They see, with much delight, new roads
pushing out for the traffic which will
result from the building of the Panama
Canal. There are sixteen new railroads
chartered to tap the Canadian wheat
belt and bring traffic to the lines that will
feed the Panama Canal, or that will feed
the great north and south lines that have
terminals on the Gulf of Mexico.
Prominent financiers assert that the
securities of railroads that draw their
patronage from the agricultural states
of the Northwest are today classed among
the best and safest investments. No other
form of security is so readily convertible
into cash and none are so popular on the
stock exchanges. The future of these
railroads is most favorable, especially
those that have terminals on the Gulf of
Mexico. This in consequence of the
building of the Panama Canal and its
prospective opening in 1915. This enter-
prise promises to effect something of a
revolution in the current of trade, and
railroads running east and west may have
to revise their charges. At present trans-
continental rates, shippers would find it
cheaper to send goods by rail to the Gulf
and thence by steamer through the Canal
to San Francisco. It has been estimated
that there would be a saving of from fifteen
to twenty per cent in the charges. The
same is true as to goods destined to
China, Japan and India.
Men who carefully study the present
conditions and future prospects cannot
fail to see the dawn of an unprecedented
era of activity in the Northwest. Nothing
short of a calamity can stop the develop-
ment which is in progress in that section.
TWO LIGHTS
By ARTHUR WALLACE LEACH
THE light in the eyes is not all, dear heart,
The light in the heart shines ever far;
The light in the eyes burns out with years —
The light of the heart is a changeless star!
Old faces fade from the guerdon, dear,
As roses in autumn gardens blow,
The old friendly light in your eyes is gone,
But the light of your heart I know!
/IV
•i*
MAY 1966