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From  the  collection  of  the 


o  Prelinger 

:    •        §  3t 

v 

t. 


San  Francisco,  California 
2007 


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  . 


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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 


THE     GREAT     COUP 


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; 


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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 


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'  selections  on;  opposite  sides  of  the 
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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 


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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 

Makers  of  Fine  Knit  Underwear 
Needham  Heights.  Mass. 


Send  us  the  name  of  your  dealer  and  samples  showing  the  dainty  fabric 
and  silk  finish  used  on  women's,  children's  and  infant's  garments  will  be 
forwarded  to  your  address. 


Don't  fail  to  mention   NATIONAL  MAGAZINE  when   writing  to  advertisers. 


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 


462 


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 


464 


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 


466 


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. 


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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. 


876 


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 


THE     MUSICAL    SEASON     IN    AMERICA 


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 


THE     MUSICAL    SEASON     IN    AMERICA 


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 


882 


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