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New England Magazine 

An Illustrated Monthly 

New Series, Volume 35 

September 1906 — February 1907 

Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1906, by 

in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 

All Rights Reserved. 

Boston, Mass. 

America Company, Publishers 

8 Dix Place 



New England Magazine 

/( >L. XXXV. 


ntures of John Henry (Sec The Seven 

Adventure- of John Henry.) 

-day. Northern A. G. Kingsbury 3 

Antwerp, the Hub oi Europe Homer Gregmore 67 

\ . on's Capital David S. Barry 643 

\ Tramp o{ the Grand Konan MacHugh 81 

tench and Mar. The Massachusetts (See "The 

Massachusetts Bench and Bar.") ... : 

Vs 1 See Them (September) 
looks As I See Them (November) 
Vs I See rhem I December) 
\- I See Them (January) 
\.s I See Them (February) 
Heeding Bloomtown. Story 
r\Ar>\ and the Land of Pokanoket 
all of the Subtle, The . . . . 

anine Idyll. A. Story 

ap'n Hezekiah's Little Evy. Story 
intry Club Plan. The . . 
and Patriotic (December) 

Kate Sanborn 121 

Kate Sanborn 378 

Kate Sanborn 500 

Kate Sanborn 629 

Kate Sanborn . . 756 

Walter A. Dyer 347 

Harry Knowlcs . . . .' 609 

Laura Simmons 118 

Isabel Frances Bellows 472 

Frederick G. Fassett 113 

Walter S. Newell. Ph. D 169 

Elizabeth Mcrritt Gossc 509 

and Patriotic (January) Elizabeth Merritt Gosse 

rdonial and Patriotic ( February) .... 
oncerning Home and School (November) . 
oncerning Home and School (December) 
oncerning Home and School (January) . . 
oncerning Home and School (February) . 

'■"... of the American Revolution 

entral Figure in Mexican History 

Henry Baldwin . . . 

Dwight E. Woodbridge 


Elizabeth Merritt Gosse 
Sarah Louise Arnold 
Sarah Louise Arnold 
Sarah Louise Arnold 
Sarah Louise Arnold 


' Kfober) . . 
litori.t' mber) . , 

litorial- (December) . . 
■<ry) . . 
litori.-:!- ( February) . . 
blc (September) 
-'•/'■ (October) 
' ; ble ( I ><■' ember I 

C. O. Paullin, Ph. D. . 714 

G. F. Paul 515 


; 231 

.... 92 



Editor's Table (February) 

Foot-note on Poe 

Forecast, A Radical 

Founding of Salem, The 

Grand Banks, A Tramp of the 

Halifax, Nova Scotia 

Harvard Lampoon, The 

Hernando Cortes, The Central Figure in Mex- 
ican History 

Hub of Europe, The (Antwerp) 

Humorists, Some New England Women . . 

Island Idyll. An 

Japanese in New England. The 

Japanese Music and Musical Instruments . . 

John Henry (See The Seven Adventures of 
John Henry.) 

King's Daughters, The Story of the .... 

Lampoon, The Harvard, Its Founders and Fa- 
mous Contributors 

Legends of Old Newgate (October) .... 

Legends of Old Newgate (December) . . . 

Loyalty of the Senate (October) 

Loyalty of the Senate (November) .... 

Madonnas in New England Museums . . . 

Maggie Verity's Reconversion. Story . . . 

Man's Chance, A. Story 

Massachusetts Railroad Commission, The . . 

Massachusetts Navy of the American Revolu- 

Massachusetts, Who Runs 

Mistress Mary. Story 

Money and Banking, The Principles of . . 

Municipal Ownership 

National Society of New England Women 

National Society of New England Women 

National Society of New England Women 

National Society of New England Women 

National Society of New England Women 

National Society of New England Women 

Navy of the American Revolution, The Massa- 

New England Superstitions, Some .... 

New England Women Humorists 

Newgate, Legends of Old (October) . . . 

Newgate, Legends of Old (December) . . . 

Nineteenth Century Boston Journaism (No- 

Eugene C Dolson . . 
Frank Putnam . . . . 
Mrs. L. J. Young Withe 

Konan MacIIugh . . 
A. M. Payne . . . . 
Mary Stoyell Stimpson 

G. F. Paul . . 
Homer Gregmore 
Kate Sanborn 
Gilbert P. Coleman 
K. K. Kawakami 
Randolph I. Geare 

H. O. McCrillis 

Mary Stoyell Stimpson 
George H. Hubbard 
George H. Hubbard 
David S. Barry . . 
David S. Barry . . 
F. W. Coburn . . . 
David Bruce Fitzgerald 
Kendrick Ferris . . 
F. W. Burrows . . . 

C. O. Paullin, Ph. D. 
R. L. Bridgman 
Frederick M. Smith 
E. S. Crandon •. . 
Martin E. Jensen 

Marguerite Lindley 

Marguerite Lindley 

Marguerite Lindley 

Marguerite Lindley 

Marguerite Lindley 

E. Marguerite Lindley 

C. O. Paullin, Ph. D. 
Clifton Johnson 
Kate Sanborn . . 
George H. Hubbard 
George H. Hubbard 

Edward TT. Clement 


f X D K X 

•.ill Ccnturj Boston Journalism (De- 

urj Boston Journalism (Jan- 
uary ) 

fineteenth Centurj Boston Journalism (Feb- 

forthern Alaska. To day 

>U1 Kinji Spruce, 1 "The Chaney Man" . 

>nion. The 

. A Hianksgiving. Story . . . 
>ur Unique Reception of Rev. Mills. Story 

S hip, Municipal 

tioebe's Experiment. Story 

S ry 

te on 

Principles of Money and Banking. The . . 

Radical Forecast, A 

Return. The. Story 

f<.ing. Story oi the 


rs After Truth. Story 

n Adventures of John Henry (I. -II.) . . 

[ventures of John Henry (III. -IV.) . 

•■. Adventures of John Henry (V.-VII.) . 

Singer of Southcreek, A. Story (January) • 

Singer of Southcreek. A. Story. (February) . 

Some Dangers in our Educational System, and 

How to Meet Them 

Some New England Superstitions 

Stern Chase, A. Story 

Story of the King's Daughters, Tre . . . . 

Story of the Ring 

ickle Town Topics 

Bleeding Bloomtown 

A Canine Idyll 

Thanksgiving Opportunity, A. Story . . . 

Tramp of the Grand Banks, A 

[ue Reception of the Rev. Mills, Our . . 

Vegetarian Adventure, A 

Warren of the West, A 

White Mountain Legends 


Edward //. Clement 

Edward 11. Clement 

Edward II. Clement 
A. G. Kingsbury 
llolman F. Day 
James O'Neill . . 
Grace Blanchard 
L. J. Dann . . . 
Martin E. Jensen 



• • 707 






• • 338 

Crittenden Marriott 74 

F. R. Weir 17 

Eugene C Dolson 79 

E. S. Crandon 591 

Frank Putnam 149 

Ruth B. Canedy 225 

Pauline C. Bouve 320 

Elsie R. Hatch 480 

Frances Weld Daniels on 445 

Grace Liscom Hezvett 305 

Grace Liscom Hcwett 401 

Grace Liscom Hezvett 538 

Mabel Ward Cameron 529 

Mabel Ward Cameron 695 

G. Stanley Hall 667 

Clifton Johnson 161 

Thomas J. Partridge 209 

H. 0. McCrillis 549 

Pauline C. Bouve 320 

Walter A. Dyer . . 
Isabel Frances Bellozvs 
Grace Blanchard . . 
Konan MacHugh . . 
L. J . Dann .... 
Belle Maniates . . . 
Edward H. Clement 
J. S. English . . . 
R. L. Bridgman . . 







llads of Old Boston M. A. DeWolfe Howe 

1 ])'■ Plying Irishman 

The O. 

Legend of Brimstone Corner 

Birthright, A Mary Close Robinson 

FAigcne C. Dolson 

lie Jessie Wallace Hughan 



I N I) EX 

Empty Vase, The Emma Beatrice Thayer 

Even Lights C. II. Collester 

Pace in the Crowd, A William Stanley Braithwaite 

First of December, The Julia Ditto Young 

Flowers of Winter Curtis Hidden P { age 

Flying Irishman, The M. A. DeWolfe 1 1 nice 

Gargoyles Gertrude Huntington McGifFert 

George Ripley Margaret Ashman .... r,. 

Goth, The Clinton Scollard . . , u 

Great Hearts Marie LeRoy Leahy . . u 

Haven, A Francis Ingold Walker . . . , , 

Helen Looks on at the Dance Arline Adams 40 

Hills of God, The Konan MacHUgh i 

Home of Lost Youth, The Dora Read Goodale - j 

T am the Wind Frederick J. Allen 67 

Idol, The Elizabeth R. Finley 33I 

Leaves Virna Sheard 56. 

Legend of Brimstone Corner, The . . . . M. A. DeWolfe Hozve 47 

Loving Cup, The Josephine Curtis Woodbury 16 

Mary's Lullaby Cora A. Matson Dolson 40. 

Mastery Florence Kipcr 4,^ 

On an Old Russian Candlestick Margaret Ashman 34 

On the Beach near Plymouth Francis Ingold Walker 121 

Ox, The M. A. DeWolfe Hozve 28. 

Passing of Summer, The Harley R. Wiley 1 7; 

Purple Island, The M. E. Starbuck 3d 

Silence, The Clinton Scollard 4fx 

Sleep Gertrude Huntington McGifFert .... 44c 

Sleeping Beauty, The Edith Summers 50; 

Spinster, The Frances Weld Danielson 20< c 

Spring in Winter Curtis Hidden Page 675 

Star Tears George W. Oldham !$< 

Summer and Love Clinton Scollard 4C 

Tickle Town Topics (September) 0/ 

The Red Ear ■ Daisy Wright Field 

Uncle Josh Arlo Barlow 

Bows Grace Stone Field 

Tickle Town Topics (October) 221 

Mr. Tupper's Trousers Nixon Waterman 

Harvest Time Clara H. Dodge 

Art Thomas J. Partridge 

A Sure Sign Evelyn J. Hamant 

Tickle Town Topics (November) 34*> 

Bill Smith's Whopper Nixon Waterman 

Tickle Town Topics (December) 472 

The Christmas Cupid Nixon Waterman 

The Fam'ly's Choice Grace Stone Field 

Tickle Town Topics (February) 734 

Old Times at; Squash Center Nixon Waterman 

To My Lord Verulam George Herbert Clark 464 

Two Rivers Charlotte W. Thurston 578 



New England Magazine Co., Publishers, 8 Dix Place, Boston. 

* 1 C A \ r Kntered at Boston Post Office as second-class matter. ^r xt i 

$J.UU a 1 ear Copyright, 1906, by America Company. ZDC. a INlimber 


The Silver Cascade, The Notch, White Mountains .... (Frontispiece) 

At the Nation's Capital David S. Barry 643 

Old King Spruce— I. "The Chaney . Man." 

Holman F. Day 655 

Dangers in Our Educational System 

G. Stanley Hall 667 

Spring in Winter. Poem . Curtis Hidden Page 675 

I am the Wind. Poem Frederick J. Allen 676 

Old Time New England Scenery •. .... 678 

An Island Idyll. Story Gilbert P. Coleman 688 

Gargoyles. Poem Gertrude Huntington McGiffert 694 

A Singer of Southcreek, (IV-VI) . . Mabel Ward Cameron 695 

Nineteenth Century Boston Journalism (IV) 

Edward H. Clement 707 

The Connecticut Navy of trre American Revolution 

Charles Oscar Paullin, Ph. D. .714 

Concerning Home and School .... Sarah Louise Arnold ; . .727 

Editorial 730 

Tickle Town Topics — Old Times at Squash Center -. . . 

Nixon Waterman 734 

Massachusetts Railroad Commission 

F. W. Burrows 739 

Editor's Table 749 

Books As I See Them Kate Sanborn 756 

Colonial and Patriotic Elizabeth Merritt Gosse 761 

National Society of New England Women 

E. Marguerite Lindley 765 


New England Magazine 

Volume XXXV 

September, 1 906 


Number i 

Northern Alaska To-day 

By A. G. Kingsbury 

A year ago the New England Magazine commissioned Mr. A. G. Kingsbury, 
an old time prospector, "sour dough miner'*' and pioneer of the discoveries of gold and 
development of the Alaska mining country north of the Arctic circle, to investigate con- 
ditions and prospects in that mining region and report to the magazine. We give the 
result of his researches in this article. 

ON the sunny side of the Arctic 
Circle, so close to that frosty 
ring that the sun in midwin- 
ter only ventures to hang by his 
chin on the sea horizon a short 
three hours, human moths are eat- 
ing away the golden threads from 
the inner garments of Mother 
Earth ; threads spun and woven 
many centuries before the Christian 
era; spun in the mills of the ever- 
lasting hills, shuttled by glacier and 
tumbling water torrent to the 
weaver — Behring Sea. 

Early in the summer, seven years 
ago, the five hundred tenters of the 
white .city on the beach fifteen 
miles west of Cape Nome,' where 
Nome City now stands, were driv- 
ing their stakes at centers and cor- 
ners of every twenty acres of gulch, 
creek, river, pup and draw immedi- 
ately tributary to that camp be- 

cause they had heard of the great 
strike of the "three lucky Swedes" 
on Anvil Creek. At that time the 
benches, ground back from the 
water course, had no attraction for 
the men who cut with pocket knife 
the crooked willows for stakes and 
wrote intelligible and non-intelli- 
gible location notices and forced 
them into the cleft jaw r s of the little 
deformed, twisted willows desig- 
nated as the centre stake or monu- 
ment No. i. Neither did the eighty 
square miles of open, flat, marshy 
tundra attract them, lying between 
the beach and foothills, north and 
south , and the Capes reaching into 
the sea east and west, except the 
few w^ater courses passing through 
the tundra from the hills to the sea, 
which were staked. Nothing bet- 
ter than colors had been found at 
their mouths. In July a few pros- 




pectors might be seen passing along 
the beach, occasionally testing the 
gravels where the larger streams 
met the sea — never dreaming that 
miles of the beach over which they 
tramped were "lousy with dnst." 
Returning to camp from a three 
days prospecting trip in the hills, 
1 was accosted by one of my fellow 
Kobukers standing near his tent; 
"Hot Alaska strawberries, (baked 
beans i biscuit and coffee inside;" 
and he added a gentle push to his 
welcome invitation, remarking he 
hadn't "forgotten the gallon of sal- 
mon chowder partner and me got 
away with that blizzardous night 
we arrived at your cabin up on the 
Kobuk River, last year." While I 
isfied my hunger we talked of 
the happenings, strikes &c. of the 
camp. I mentioned my inten- 
tion of prospecting some of the 
small gulches, or draws as we call 
them, extending from the beach a 
short distance back into tundra. 
He said he would like to accompany 

me. After a few hours of sleep in 
my own tent, I called for him and 
we started up the beach, westerly, 
armed with shovels, pans and sand- 

Finding light colors, only, in the 
first few pans taken near Snake 
River, we passed up the beach a half 
mile farther. Just below the face of a 
slight break in the tundra overhang- 
ing the beach, near the surf, I threw 
aside piece of driftwood, making 
way for my shovel into the under- 
lying gravel, ten inches from the 
top of which lay three or four inches 
of ruby sand. While wobbling, 
shaking, stirring a pan of this 
garnetiferous sand in a pool of 
water at edge of surf, I was strongly 
impressed with the idea that I was 
squandering time looking for gold 
so far away from the hills and I 
concluded I had best get back 
among them as soon as possible. I 
looked for no better showing in this 
pan than all the previous ones 
washed during the morning. In a 



semi-mindful manner I made the 
water chase the gravel over the 
edge of the pan until reduced to 
about the bulk of half a pint; a 
rotary motion showed black sand, 
which is heavier than ruby sand, 
and in its edge appeared stubborn 
little colors refusing to be so readily 
rolled about by the water; then I 
forgot all about the hills and real- 
ized nothing except the washing 
gravel free of those obstinate parti- 

find and return without delay. It 
never occurred t<. us at that time 
that there was much area of gold 
bearing gravel on tin- beach, only 
a pocket I had happened upon, a 
few square feet, possibly. I collect- 
ed some provision boxes from 
traders' tents in cam]) and was soon 
constructing a rude rocker in my 
own tent. In three or four hours 
I had produced the best apology 
for one that I could with an axe 


cles of yellow metal ; soon nothing 
except the gold remained and subse- 
quent weighing showed that first 
pan of value to contain $1.05. I 
panned other pans from same spot 
and near by with gratifying results. 
My partner of the morning return- 
ing from prospecting farther up the 
beach, I showed him results of my 

We agreed to go at once to our 
individual tents, each make a rock- 
er, say nothing to any one of our 

and jack knife for tools and bacon 
and canned goods boxes, and a strip 
cut from end of my sleeping blanket 
for material. 

Feeling strangely weak. I hap- 
pened to think that I'd eaten noth- 
ing for fifteen hours; my sand- 
wiches were dug up from my rear 
overalls pocket and good feelings re- 
stored; I scooped other bread and 
canned meat into a paper bag. tucked 
it inside the rocker with the gold- 
pan ; I slung the rocker on my back 

N E VV E \ ( 


and with shovel in hand started up 

the beach, intending to pick up my 

5S ite on the sandspit, whom I 

- willing should share the work- 
ings with his rocker in order to 

help me hold down the ground from 
jumpers. I found him asleep in 
his tent and no rocker in sight; 
didn't disturb him but resiling my 
load and hustled westward. Be- 
crossing Snake River, which 
about center of camp, I was 

st< I by several; "Where's the 
strike?" "Put us next," etc., etc., 
some joking, others serious, my re- 
plies were good natured but mis- 

Farther on. while stopping to rest, 
I noticed two men coming behind 
me. Before reaching me they sat 

n on a drift log, I started again, 
-" did they; I rested once more, so 
did they: 1 proceeded once more 
and they followed. Evidently they 

ight I had struck something; 
they had a tight to think so, as a 
man would hardly be packing a 
hea\y rocker if he hadn't. I stop- 

about a quarter of a mile before 

ling my find, cleared a small 

from drift wood and small 

stones, made a sump hole into which 

tin- water came and started to work 

my rocker, hoping to save the good 

farther on [or future, personal 


.My two followers had come up 

and remarked thai we were "having 

fine weather." '| hey proceeded to 

pan the gravel around me, taking 

on*- pan from within two feet of 

rocker. ( )ver the result of that 
pan they seemed quite interested 
but said nothing to me about it. 
In the meantime I saw three men 

ing along the beach, from town, 

with packs on their backs, two of 

proving to be rockers; 

they too had discovered gold some- 
where; was it the spot a quarter 
of a mile farther on? The two men 
who had been panning near me 
seemed to know them and they all 
looked at the last panning taken from 
near my rocker ; the five men held an 
animated conversation together for 
a few moments, then picked up their 
tools and rockers and all hurried 
up the beach ; I was much relieved 
when they passed the place on 
which I made my first discovery, 
and on around the curve in the 
beach, out of sight. Then I hur- 
riedly made ready to move up and 
take possession. Washing the gravel 
clean from my rocker I looked 
inside, little expecting to see more 
than a few colors. I was sur- 
prised to find behind the riffles of 
the apron on the blanket quite a 
showing of gold ; I had struck 
good pay and didn't know it. I 
then took a pan from where my 
followers had panned, close to my 
rocker, and found two penny- 
weights, or $1.60; No wonder they 
were interested over their pan, but, 
I wondered, what must they have 
found, or their friends told them of 
farther up, to have left pay like 
this. I didn't move to the first dis- 
covery but my companion of the 
early morning took possession of it 
soon after. 

Perhaps twenty five or six rock- 
ers straggled up the beach during 
the next ten hours; Evidently it 
was becoming known that gold had 
been discovered on the beach, at 
several different points. I heard 
nothing definite until the close of 
the following day and then the 
whole Nome camp went wild with 
excitement. Men, rockers, tents, 
seemingly sprang from the sea, so 
rapidly did they appear along its 


rim, a variety of humanity, good and 
true men and others whose only 
claim to manhood was their ability 
to walk on their hind legs. Along 
six miles of beach, immediately west 
from Nome, hardly a rod that did not 
contain some degree of pay, varying 
from one-fourth to twenty five 
ounces per man, per diem. During 
those first days some worked on 
through the twenty-four hours, and 

more. The gold averaged to be 
worth $17.40 per ounce but the 
traders only allowed us Si 6.00. 
Some few. struck ten to fifteen 
ounces per day gravel at the start 
and when it pinched down to four 
or five ounces pay they left it and 
prospected for better diggings. 

Close to one million dollars was 
mined from the beach that summer. 
That was the first Golden Beach 



t discovered in this district, but 
the- last one of throe, so far found, 
which the elements of nature have 

ced between the hills and the sea. 
l'he next beach line was found three 
years later. About sixteen miles 
of it has been, and is still being 
worked. It averages a little less 
than a half mile back from and 
parallel with the present beach. The 
pay, in places, has been proven very 
g id, but less than either of the 
other lines. Like the first one dis- 
covered the pay lies on a false bed- 
rock and varies between eight to 
twenty-five feet from surface. 

The last beach line discovered lies 
cl<»se to the hills, three to five miles 
from where the sea now beaches ; 
( >nly about four miles of this 
line has been determined to date, 
or since it was first uncovered 
eighteen months ago at the point 

called Little Creek. The gold is 
found on true bedrock, usually of 
mica schist, occasionally on and in 
a very hard cement of calcined 
gravel and being thirty to one hun- 
dred and twenty feet below the 
surface. The pay varies in thick- 
ness from a few inches to six or 
seven feet. The natural level of 
this bedrock is the same all along 
the line, differing depths being due 
to height of overlying stratas or 
deposits. The ground is frozen and 
is worked the year through, except 
v r here present surface and sub-sur- 
face water channels cross the beach 
line. These few thawed places con- 
tain more water than present con- 
ditions have been able to cope with, 
but that emergency will soon be 
met. Part of the gravels of this 
beach line, like the two others later 
formed, are surf washed sands, ex- 



-cept where the ancient gold laden 
streams unloaded their burdens into 
the sea, which then kissed, lashed 
or placed her icy cheek against the 
foot hills, according to mood. For 
instance, the pay on Little Creek is 
directly in the beach line, a part of 
it being in sea wash and a part of it 
in an ancient river wash — to the 
merry tune of $1,000, or more to 
the pan in places. (On one of these 
claims $800 to $1,000 per day is be- 
ing hoisted which averages only 
five cents per pan, at a total daily 
expense not exceeding $150.) The 
action of the surf scattered more or 
less of this gold east and west, un- 
til it almost or fairly met the 
golden sands borne by the surf 
from the mouths of some other 
mountain stream; and so on from 
creek to creek — and that's the way 
the beach lines were made. Doubt- 

less there are intermediate golden 
threads between the three already 
discoverd. Men are looking for 
them and are also picking up the 
present known lines farther and 
farther to the east and the west. 

Meanwhile the great rush of min- 
ing and development in the Seward 
peninsula, with Nome as its capital 
city, goes steadily forward. Xome 
itself is steadily developing from a 
city of shacks and tents to a me- 
tropolis of business blocks with 
modern improvements and a growth 
only limited by the scarcity of lum- 
ber which now and then holds up 
operations. In the surrounding 
country new camps spring up con- 
tinually, new prospects are discov- 
ered and the lone prospector's tent 
of yesterday becomes the placer 
camp of to-day with tomorrow 
looming large with promise of a 


rn>h camp and the doings of an in- 
cipient city; 

It is gold, placer gold in seem- 
ingly unlimited and inexhaustible 
quantities that is doing this thing 
and will continue to do it in decades 
• mc. Not that quartz mines 
may not, probably will, be the ulti- 
mate of the district, but though 
tlu-y may spring up in discovery and 
in develi >pment, it will be 
before the placer ground, 
can possibly show signs of exhaus- 

Why thi< statemenl is true is 

evident to the man of experience 

studies the situation as a whole 

fully. It was in 1900 that an 

■ ol< >gis1 and mining man, 

formerly connected with Cornell 

ersity at Ithaca. New York, 

er the whole peninsula and 

1 it with the eye a1 once of 

the practical miner, the theorist of 
the schools and the enthusiastic 
prospector. Mi- story of what 
might be expected there is interest- 
ing in view of the fad that results 
'ready proving the truth of his 


forecast. "The whole Seward pe- 
ninsula," he said -at that time, "is 
undoubtedly underlaid with a gold 
bearing stratum of gravel. In 
places this lies near the surface, in. 
fact on it and hence discoveries 
made along- various streams. In 
others glacial detritus has buried it 
to a depth of probably hundreds, 
perhaps thousands of feet. The 
stratum however I believe to be 
there throughout the country and 
account for it by the levelling off 
of former mountain ranges by pre- 
historic glacial action, cutting down 
the gold bearing ledges and scatter- 
ing their contents far and wide in 
the progress of the glacial ice. 
Later came upheavals of the strata 
by volcanic or other action and 
further erosion by glaciers or 
water, such as is now going on." 

This was a bold statement and at 
the time was scouted by many. 
Later came another far seeing man,. 
Mr. J. U. Pickard who added inter- 
esting testimony to the question 
under consideration. In 1900 Mr. 
Pickard began investigating the: 


i i 

tundra slopes that sweep from the 
coast line back to the hills miles 
away in the interior in the firm be- 
lief that gold would be found to 
underlie it in paying quantities. 
During the fall and winter of 1901 
he prospected the ground beneath 
the tundra with diamond drills, go- 
ing down to bedrock in each in- 
stance and carefully examining the 
core which the drill brought to the 
surface. He said of the results : 
"The depth to bedrock varies from 
forty to eighty feet and I found 
that the gravel which begins at a 
depth of about eight feet is not 
always frozen. The eight foot sur- 
face of peat is interesting, as it can 
without doubt be used as fuel if 
properly treated and thus aid rather 
than impede the work. The values 
found in the tundra almost defy 
computation. The gravel deposit 
between the peat and the bedrock, 
thirtv-two to seventv-two feet of it 

carries gold in enormous quantities. 

I found gravel averaging $4.87 to 
the cubic yard at a depth of forty- 
two feet. $3.64 was the lowest 
average per cubic yard of any while 
in some instances it ran to over $12 
for the same amount. Anyone who 
cares to can figure up the amount 
of gold at these values in an acre, 
in a square mile and in the hun- 
dreds of square miles of gravel 
which underlie this tundra forty to 
eighty feet in depth. There are 
what may be called waves in the 
gravel deposits in the tundra. These 
result from the grinding off of foot 
hills. There have also been two 
runs of gold, the primary and the 
secondary, the primary carrying 
the best value. If this primary de- 
posit can be traced to its source 
great value in quartz would un- 
doubtedly be found." 

The great discoveries on Little 
Creek confirm the theories of Mr. 



Pickard as do others since made, 
notably "Portland Bench" in 1905. 
Later discoveries of a similar nature 
have been made on "Bessie Bench." 

Here at a considerable depth the 
same rich ground has been struck 
as predicted this summer and as 
much as $35,000 has been taken 
at one shift. The sum of 
$42,000 has been cleaned up in one 
sluicing and the smallest 
clean up For any day's work has 
n $12,000. There has been no 
time in this work since the pay 
body was cross cut that you could 
not get a pan worth two dollars and 
a half, not in scraping- on bedrock 
but by taking' the gravel at ran- 
dom. The actual work being done 
in the tundra confirms the predic- 
tions of Mr. Pickard just as his 
researches confirmed the theory of 
the geologist before him. 

Taking all these and a thousand 
other facts, which there is not space 
in this article even to allude to, it 
is not easy to suggest a time at 
which placer mining on the Seward 
peninsula will come to an end. 
When one considers the vast terri- 
tory already prospected and proven 
of unexampled richness, then thinks 
that the regions as yet untouched 
by the prospector's pick have an 
equal chance to be equally rich it 
would seem that scores of years 
might pa^s with no diminution of 
the output of placer gold from the 
region. Every steamer which goes 
south to the States carries its thou- 
sands of yellow dusl and nuggets, 
many carry millions and the stream 
will heap up its Steady flow all sum- 
mer. Already the influx of gold to 
the Seattle assayer's office has 
broken all records, ;i total of $5,155,- 
432 having arrived there in one 

I the placer gold is only the 

dust as one might say of the real 
mineral wealth of the region. In its 
quartz mines will lie its real devel- 
opment in the not far distant future. 
And therein lies a lack which the 
peninsula sadly feels to-day, a lack 
which will no doubt be remedied. 
The chechaco and the sidewalk 
miner we have always with us, 
though not in such numbers as dur- 
ing the rush of 1900. Expert placer 
miners and prospectors are here in 
plenty and doing good work, as the 
increased output for each year 
plainly shows, but the quartz 
miner has been slow in coming. 
Before him must come of course 
the quartz prospector. By this I 
do not mean the blundering gold 
hunter who finds a mine, if he finds 
it at all because he falls off his 
horse and bangs his head on a 
quartz vein, realizing what he has 
found as he slowly comes to, but 
the real quartz prospector. 'Such a 
man must be a practical quartz ex- 
pert. A mine owner who is devel- 
oping a promising galena prospect 
told me the other day that he could 
count the thorough quartz and ore 
prospectors of the Nome district on 
the fingers of his hand and still have 
fingers to spare for other work. 
Such men need a sufficient knowl- 
edge of geology, mineralogy and 
rock mining and mining methods 
to enable them not only to recog- 
nize readily the principal forms in 
which the common minerals exist as 
ores but to exercise proper judg- 
ment in opening up and doing 
prospect work in a way to ex- 
pose the real value of the discovery 
and at the same time materially 
lessen the cost of its primary de- 

Until a couple of years ago 
quartz mining was not thought of 
in northwestern Alaska except by 


a few in the Solomon River district 
when the success of the Hurrah 
Quartz Mine, developed by veteran 
quartz miners — the Lanes — began 
to awaken people to the fact that 
quartz mining was that in which 
lay the great development of the 
region for the future. 

There has been another draw- 
back to quartz mining and prospect- 
ing which ought to be mentioned 
here. That is the present state of 
the mining laws which allow the 
wholesale acquirement of a large 
extent of territory by a few. The 
result is the pre-emption of great 
ranges of territory so that the pro- 
spector has to proceed at least a 
day's journey from Nome to find 
ground where he will be able to 
locate without suffering a contest 
with and oppression at the hands of 
large interests which now claim all 
the nearby ground on one pretext 

or another. This prevents dis- 
covery, development and a larger 
prosperity which might easily be 
enjoyed but cannot till some radi- 
cal change is made in the laws so 
that actual discovery and immedi- 
ate development will exist as the 
only excuse for holding down these 
regions. The stock-range claim 
owners are as a rule dog-in-the- 
manger people who neither pro- 
spect nor develop claims themselves 
nor will they allow others to except 
under an exorbitant and unreason- 
able royalty proposition. This un- 
just condition has done more to re- 
tard development in quartz mining 
than all other causes combined and 
has been a great drawback even to 
placer development. It has tended 
to place opportunities in the hands 
of a few and create monopoly 
where individuality should have its 
largest expression. It is to be 



hoped that Alaska's representatives 

at the National capital will make an 
earnest effort to find a remedy for 

these unjust conditions. 

Thus tar the only practical dem- 
onstration of quartz mining on the 
peninsula is that of the Hurrah 
Quartz Mine on the Solomon River. 
This mine is well equipped and 
managed. The ore body, which is 
a silicious quartz averages about 
five feet in width and is largely a 
free milling character so that some 
eighty per cent, of the value is ex- 
tracted on the plates and tables. 
The vein lies in a schist formation 
and has been worked to the three 
hundred foot level. The daily out- 
put is about seventy-five tons of 
ore which is mined and milled at a 
cost of five dollars a ton. The 
property has been worked for the 
last three years satisfactorily to the 

The Nome Quartz Mining Com- 
pany has a shaft dow r n about seven- 
ty feet on a vein near Glacier Creek. 
The ore is said to assay over twen- 
ty dollars to the ton. On Rock 
Creek a vein has been opened 
which is said to yield by a pan 
arastra sixteen dollars per ton 
and assay is said to have shown 
value pf S200 to the ton. Little is 
known as yet of the extent and 
trend of the ore bearing veins of 
the region. In the Nome and 
Council districts the mineralized 
belt runs northeast and southwest 
and it is assumed that the great 
"mother lode" when found will 
show the same tendency. Some of 
the largest veins yet discovered are 
known to take this course. 

The greatest problem which the 
quartz prospector meets in this 
country is the presence of deep 
wash and slides which bury the 
real ledges far out of sight and 

make the work of uncovering them 
exceedingly difficult. , In conse- 
quence of this prospectors have 
been slow to undertake the enor- 
mous labor of opening up quartz 
veins when indications of them have 
been once discovered. The work is 
moreover an expensive one and the 
present opportunity has seemed to 
lie mainly in the tracing of ancient 
channels and beach lines giving 
immediate returns in placer gold SO' 
that men have been loath to under- 
take the discovery and develop- 
ment of the more permanent forms 
of mining. 

Leaving the gold behind us for a 
moment and taking a survey of the 
ground for other minerals we find 
that discoveries have been made 
that promise in the future to be of 
as great, if not greater value to the 
world. That is the discovery of 
large bodies of tin ore in place. 
Indeed many a mining man of ex- 
perience will tell .you that tin ore 
in well defined ledges is a matter of 
far more moment than placer gold. 

Placer tin mining has been fol- 
lowed on the Seward peninsula 
since 1901, deposits having been 
found on Buck Creek in the Port 
Clarence district in 1900. But little 
real development has been done al- 
though fifty tons or so have been 
mined and shipped to the States for 
test puropses. The discovery of 
placer tin led to prospecting for tin 
in place and in 1902 a discovery 
was made in Port Clarence on Lost 
River which confirmed the belief of 
all old mining men that tin ore ex- 
isted in considerable quantity in 
that region. These Lost River prop- 
erties have recently been bonded in 
a large amount and a substantial 
first payment made. Forty men 
have been at work in these mines 
this summer. 


The* centre of the tin mining in- 
dustry at present is at Tin City a 
small hamlet, thirty miles west of 
Teller City, near Cape Prince of 
Wales. This camp lies directly on 
the beach of Behring Sea, just 
southeast of Behring: Strait and 
easily reached by boats of light 
draft. The mines are about two 
miles out of town. At present 
there are four or five companies 
which have been organized to mine 
tin in this district, the largest per- 
haps being the Bartels Tin Mining 
Company of New York. This com- 
pany has done a great amount of 
development work and has erected 
a stamp mill which is steadily en- 
gaged in crushing the ore taken out 
in the work of development. The 
work of the past few years has un- 
covered a great body of pay ore 
and large shipments of concentrates 
are already being made. 

The development work is done 
with drills driven by eletcric power 
and all portions of the equipment 
are strictly up-to-date. Several 
other companies are making an ex- 
cellent showing and prospectors 
are busy in the belief that other 
valuable finds will be made. On 
the whole the tin outlook is a very 
promising one. It is the opinion of 
competent authorities that when 
greater depth has been gained in 
the development work on the al- 
ready located mines great ore bod- 
ies will be found and that within 
two years thousands of tons of tin 
ore will either be smelted at Tin 
City or sent down to outside smelt- 
ers. One of these authorities states 
that he has samples of quartz tin 
from this district which assayed as 
high as sixty-two per cent, tin to 
the ton. 

At present the world's output of 
tin is under 90,000 tons per annum 

most of it coming from the stream 
tin mines of the Straits Settle 
and the Dutch Easl Indies. both ,,11 
the other side of the world. : l he 
tin miles of Cornwall, England, 
once the chief source of supply 
have been worked to great depths 
and are in a way to soon become 
exhausted. In fact the world has 
had to face a shortage in the sup- 
ply of tin ore for some time. These 
discoveries in Alaska come at a 
most opportune time and enthusi- 
asts predict that within two years 
the world's supply of the useful 
metal will be drawn from this re- 

Of the enormous commercial de- 
velopment of this region this arti- 
cle has thus far not treated. ( )ne 
would need the space of an entire 
magazine just to mention the enter- 
prises tributary to the mining in- 
dustry which are developing along 
with it. Such a statement would 
tell of the millions invested in pay- 
ing steamship lines between Nome 
and the States, the thousands in- 
vested in coastwise trade between 
the different ports of the peninsula. 
It would tell of the railroad devel- 
opment steadily pushing lines of 
steel into the interior and bidding 
fair in the future to cover the coun- 
try with a net work of rails. It 
would tell of the development of 
water power and especially of the 
enormous ditch system which de- 
livers water at hundreds of placer 
mines for miners' use making claims 
otherwise unproductive give golden 
yield to their hardy developers. 
But in closing I wish to tell the 
story of a recent enterprise which 
seems to be one of the most im- 
portant yet undertaken in the way 
of furnishing power to the miner. 
This enterprise is nothing less than 
the building of an immense electric 



power plant which will supply 
power to all parts of the Seward 
Peninsula. It will be located at 

Salmon Lake on the Pilgrim River 
and will be one of the most com- 
pletely equipped plants in America. 
The leader in this great project is a 
man whose name is a household 
word in this northern country, a 
man who has already been the head 
of several great and successful en- 
terprises here. W. L. Leland. Mr. 
Leland was instrumental in instal- 
ling- one of the great ditch systems 
already spoken of as supplying 
water to the placer mines of the 
district. A year ago he installed 
a great dredger on the Solomon 
River, one of the first of the ad- 
vance guard of great gold ships 
which have operated with such 
enormous success in California and 
other states and are now beginning 
t< • find new fields for their opera- 
tion in the placers of this coun- 
try. Work on this great elec- 
tric power project is now well 
under way and when completed the 
power will be supplied continuous- 
ly, winter and summer, thus doing 
away with the great expense of pro- 
viding power by the use of coal. 
Salmon Lake is an immense body 
of water, of great depth, in fact in 
portions soundings have been thus 
far unobtainable. An immense dam 
is being built to confine these 
water- and the- depth to which the 
ice forms in winter has been care- 
fully ascertained. The intake will 
be below this depth so that the win- 
cold will have no influence on 

the production of power. This will 
be available by wire in all parts of 
the peninsula and can be applied to 
all the operations of mining such 
as hoisting, pumping, operating 
dredges, electric tramways, light- 
ing, etc. The plant will be large 
enough for all the power needed 
for years to come and will be 
equipped with the best electric 
machinery obtainable. Its installa- 
tion marks another step in the 
progress of the country and is hailed 
as one more mark of the stability of 
the region and the great things 
which are expected of it for an in- 
definite period in the future. 

In conclusion : it is safe to say 
that the development of this region 
has but begun. It is in the early 
days of its pioneer activity. Vast 
regions yet remain for the explorer 
and prospector with promise of rich 
reward for the faithful. The work- 
ing of industries which are capable 
of enormous development through a 
period of scores of years if not cen- 
turies is just on the threshold of 
enterprise. The placer region of 
the peninsula is, when compared 
with other placer regions discovered 
in the world, as a South Dakota 
wheat farm to a Rhode Island door- 
yard. A half century will not see 
the end of the paying development 
of the gold therein. The country 
is essentially a mineral one and on 
mining alone must it depend. But 
the business activities which thrive 
in a vigorous, enormously rich and 
productive community must follow 
and cannot fail to thrive equally. 



Bv F. R. Weir 

((YF you go, you understand it 
J, will be against my wish !" 
The eyes of Mrs. James Wil- 
lard blazed from the dark corner, 
where she sat huddled with her 
baby in her lap. She looked like 
some young animal, wounded and 
at bay, protecting her young. 

Her husband regarded her com- 
placently from a fine, masculine 
height. Her feminine inadequacy 
in business matters called for his 
tender, yet contemptuous pity. 

"I must go, Celeste. Now, dear, 
try to exercise a little common 
sense. Can't you rely on your hus- 
band's judgment?" 

He went over to her and laid a 
hand upon the tumbled masses of 
crinkly, yellow-brown hair, which, 
together with grey eyes and straight, 
dark brows, had been such a whip to 
his passion in their courting days. 
She did not repel his touch, but re- 
mained rigid under it. 

"It is for the man to work out 
the problems and for the woman to 
be guided and protected. You are 
a dear, sweet wifie, Celeste, and I 
am willing to endure any hardships 
to make life easy for you. Why, 
little girl, that is all I live for. I 
hope to see you and this young 
lady here riding in your own auto, 
with a stone mansion on Queen 
Anne Hill and a dozen servants." 

"I am willing for you to think 
out our problems," she declared, 
"more than willing — I am anxious 

"But what, Celeste; don't mind 
my feelings." 

"Well then, it seems to me you 
are running away and leaving me 
with the problems. Here I am half 
sick, with a three-week's-old baby, 
your visiting aunt, who is addicted 
to drink, and her cigarette-smoking 
son, on my hands, and the noble 
sum of fifty dollars to live on ! Now 
where does the problem come in. 
and who must solve it?" 

Willard thrust his hands into his 
pockets and went to the window. 
whistling furiously. The baby 
whined and grunted, and one little 
pink fist, the size of a walnut, tlew 
out from among the blankets and 
waved defiance in the air; the puck- 
ered little mouth relaxed, opened, 
the tongue quavered, and the im- 
patient young lady made her 
troubles known in the imperative 
squawk common to earl}- infancy. 
Willard had intended to ignore his 
wife's remonstrances entirely, be- 
lieving he had already explained as 
much of his plan as the illogical 
mind of a woman could assimilate, 
but the sound of his baby's cry 
softened him somewhat. lie felt 
that he must possess his soul in pa- 
tience, not forgetting all that Celeste 
had suffered for him and his little 
daughter. He must bear with her 
unreason. All women were unrea 
sonable. They were charming things, 
so dainty, so pretty, so helpless, 
with their furbelows and fripper- 
ies and babies, but they had no 



\ E W E X G L A X D M A G A Z I N E 

heads for business. lie would not 
. gain so far forget his manhood as 
I Celeste's inconsistencies move 

"If you are head problem-solver," 

gran Celeste again, in a tone — it 
must be confessed — not conducive 
t" peace, "please tell me what 1 am 
lo with your drunken Aunt 
Martha Sam Dush and your cousin 
Bubby Dush, on fifty dollars, and 
you away up in Alaska?" 

Willard was almost lost again. 
If Celeste had tackled the fifty dol- 
lar problem alone he would have 
replied for the hundredth time that 
those fifty dollars were only sup- 

s 3 to serve until he could send 
her returns from the "rich thing" to 
which his acquaintance with Ham- 
blin Smith was leading him. Ham- 
blin Smith had seen the claim! 
With . his own eyes Hamblin 
Smith had seen the dull glimmer of 
in surprising quantities; with 
his own hands Hamblin Smith had 
sluiced nut the precious little shiners 
to the amount of twenty-eight dol- 
lar- to the pan. The goodness of 
heart and the emptiness of purse of 
Hamblin Smith were the combined 
forces taking him and Roxy — an- 
other casual acquaintance-T-to "the 
o of all rich things !" 

Hamblin Smith had met with 
fortunes on his way out; and 
now, although knowing where gold 
lay like common pebbles, to be had 
for the washing, the want of a few 
paltry dollar- hindered his return 
to hi- Eldorado, lie was stranded 
in Seattle, eating out his heart, 
• • to mention oilier substantiate' 
which counter] heavier in his board 
bill, while away to the north lay 
his treasure a1 the mercy of any 
miner who might happen to set up 
his box. Eighl hundred dollars 

would take the three of them, with 

horses, tools and grub, safely to the 
creek where the red gold shone. 
Roxy had three hundred and twen- 
ty-live, Willard four hundred and 
fifty, and Smith thought he might 
scare up twenty-five dollars, which 
together with his painfully acquired 
knowledge of the location of "the 
rich thing," he would contribute to 
the expedition. 

Willard had explained all this to 
his wife, and he was willing to go 
patiently over. it again. In fact, he 
rather enjoyed the rehearsal; it 
made him feel so rich, but when 
she flung questions at him about his 
Aunt Martha Sam and Bubby, it 
confused and angered him. He was 
not to blame because his aunt had 
chosen this inopportune time to 
bless them with a visit ; nor was he 
to be held accountable for the fact 
that during a dangerous illness 
away along back in her youth she 
had acquired a pernicious habit 
usually monopolized by the sterner 
sex ; nor that her son, Bubby Dush, 
smoked cigarettes, banged his hair, 
and made himself undesirable in 
various ways. When he came to 
. think of it, these were women's 
problems ; they belonged «to the so- 
cial side of life and were for the 
wife to solve. The question of fi- 
nances for him, undesirable guests 
for Celeste. He was glad he had 
thought of this decision. 

"What," demanded Celeste, "is to 
be done with Aunt Martha Sam and 
Bubby Dush?." 

"The entertainment of guests be- 
longs to your part of the responsi- 
bilities; the provision for such en- 
tertainment to mine," declared Wil-r> 
lard loftily, and stalked out of the 
house and down the street where he 
immediately fell into as abject a fit 
of the blues as a man can experi- 
ence and live. The only comfort 


he, could find was in remembering 
that Celeste was unreasonable and 
had abused him. 

''Serve her right if I were to 
throw the whole thing up, hand 
over the four fifty for her to en- 
tertain Aunt Martha Sam with, and 
go back, to work for the railroad 
company nights, as I have been do- 

At that moment a hand descended 
on his back with the weight of a 
falling church. "Good news, old 
man ! The indications are now that 
we can go out on the Dolphin to- 
morrow night. Smith says that 
everything is picked up that we are 
going to need. We won't have to 
wait for the Don S. Gives us three 
days extra time, and time counts in 
a case of this kind." 

"You seem very enthusiastic." 

"Enthusiastic? Well, who would 
not be enthusiastic when they are 
going as straight as an arrow to the 
richest thing on earth?" 

"Of course you haven't anything 
to dampen your spirits." 

"No, but what 'have you?" 

"A sulky wife, for one thing." 

"And a darn pretty one at that, 
eh?" gurgled Roxy. 

Willard bridled. For the first 
time Celeste's beauty seemed a dis-. 

Roxy, unconscious of having given 
offense, threw himself into the de- 
tails of their preparations with an 
ardor which would have inspired a 
dead man. His hair stuck up in 
little wisps, his necktie blew out, 
his hands and arms flew about, at- 
tracting the notice of the passerby 
as. he recounted the brilliant pros- 
spects before them. 

"And then the pleasures of the 
trip — just think of it, Jim ! Why, 
ever since I was a youngster I've 
longed to do something — see some- 

thing — go somewhere. Why, James, 
I believe you and I are the only two 
* men in this city who haven't had a 
try at the North Countree!" 

"Why aren't they all bending 
under the weight of their riches 
then?" asked Willard forebodingly. 

"Well you see, they didn't all of 
them have a Hamblin Smith,- a man 
who knows Alaska as a hen knows 
her own chicks, to lead them to as 
rich a thing as — " 

"That's an unfortunate simile, 
Roxy. A hen never knows her own 
chicks. Back in Wisconsin, on the 
farm, we had a hen, I remember — " 

"Aw come off, Jim! I've just 
been down to see Smith — I tell you 
that man has a head ! Oh what a 
head that man has, and to think 
that two headless old cronies like 
you and me had the good luck to 
get in with him !" 

Willard was full of unnecessary 
little resentments. "I'm not will- 
ing, Roxy — not just yet — to own 
myself a fool !" . • 

"No?" cried Roxy good-natured- 
ly, "I am. I never was noted for 
my thinking faculties, nor for my 
luck either ; but this time I am to 
ride in on the coat-tails of Hamblin 
Smith! We two headless old cron- 
ies ride into victory ! Come in and 
have a bowl !" 

But Willard refused. He would 
not even go with Roxy to the fount 
of inspiration, Hamblin Smith. He 
was thinking of Celeste, and the 
baby, and that fifty dollars, and that 
miserable quarrel, and Aunt Mar- 
tha Sam ; and a lumpish, indefinable 
pain, which later might develop in- 
to homesickness; made itself felt in 
his bosom. 

He went home and patched up a 
peace with Celeste, who also har- 
bored a regret for sharp words 
spoken, which might be forgiven, 



but never recalled. After all it was No, he could not afford to fall 

not poor old lim's fault; it was the out with this big brute, for upon 

fault of that big, suave adven- him hung all their hopes of fortune. 
turer, Hamblin Smith, with his For Celeste's sake, and the child's, 
dved moustache and liquor-tainted he must be brave, and calm, and pa- 
breath, and treacherous eyes, who tient. 

needed the little savings and strong He confided something of this 
arms of her fim and that hair- resolution to Roxy, who declared 
brained, fly-away Roxy, to set him his belief that they would need both 
oing once more. If Smith had bravery and patience if they made 
found such mountains oi ore why the journey with Hamblin Smith, 
hadn't some i^i it stuck to his fin- "Why say!" he whispered fierce- 
?ers, Celeste asked the baby with ly, "if he divides up the running ex- 
flashing eyes. And the baby wab- penses as he has begun he can 
bled its head, and winked its inade- leave that twenty-five dollars of 
quate, milky eyes, and gave it up. his to his grandchildren intact. It's 
Although she was scarcely able, my opinion we've run afoul of a 
Celeste went to the wharf to see rusty old sport !" 

her husband off, and as the city Like all over-enthusiastic people 

lights dropped away and the boat Roxy's courage had flown at the 

pushed out into the black water, first test. From the moment the 

the picture of her vivid face, framed lighthouse on the point faded from 

in the hood of a garment which en- view he was full of gloomy fore- 

veloped her in Dantesque shadows, bodings. This was not to be won- 

made a strong impression on her dered at while they were at sea, for 

husband's mind as she leant upon Roxy was a poor sailor, and al- 

the unstable support afforded by though the start was made the 

tin- arm <»f Bubby Dush. seventeenth of May, the passage 

"Your wife is a fine looker," re- was extremely rough, 

marked Hamblin Smith with a Once a day Roxy crept on deck, 

flabby smile, and Willard turned his hair sticking up in pathetic little 

in him fiercely in a sudden de- tufts and his necktie awry. His 

sire to throw him overboard. Ham- favorite formula on these occasions 

blin Smith's conception of woman- was, "Gosh! Jim, ain't this ter- 

hood had been acquired at great ex- rible?" after which he would irri- 

in concert saloons, and his mediately go below again. 

admiration was an insult to an hon- Hamblin Smith remained out of 

nan I'm the- better judg- sight also, and Willard sat long 

ment, of which Willard had boasted days on deck gazing out across the 

>te, prevailed and he stayed heaving seas and thinking of Ce- 

and leste's pitiful face on the wharf, and 

After all why should he quarrel that paltry fifty dollars which must 

i man for admiring his wife. serve until he could send money 

as beautiful, al least she had from the North. At such times the 

n before the birth of the child, boat could not go fast enough, and 

1 tonight her pitiful young face, he determined to send her an extra 

vith its quivering mouth and sor- hundred dollars from Valdes. 

po essed much of its But when he reached Valdes he 

old-time charm. was obliged to admit that if ever he 

A P L U N G E K 


hoped to sec thai wonderful claim, 
that "rich thing," out of which he 
was to wash autos and hill man- 
sions for Celeste, he must give up 
the idea of sending- back any money 
at present. 

As often as possible he sought 
out Smith, and with pencil and 
paper figured out the very shortest 
time in which they might hope to 
realize something on the venture. 

As the journey progressed these 
assurances of speedy returns, with 
which the promoter had lured them 
North, became more wavering and 
the bitterness of uncertainty en 
tered Willard's soul. His anxiety 
was not lightened by Roxy's atti- 

"Do you know what I think?" 
whispered Roxy, with protruding 
chin and half-closed eyes, "I think 
that old alligator never saw Alaska 
before in his life!" 

"Don't always look on the dark 
side, Roxy ; what's got into yoir?" 

"Yes, but look here, Jim, what's 
he always studying that old chart 
of his for? Break in on him any 
time of day or night there he sits, 
going up one creek and down an- 
other, astride of a lead pencil. He's 
got the whole map spider-webbed 
with trails. Why say, if we've got 
to travel all the trails he's got 
marked out on that chart we'll be 
older'n Rip Van Winkle before we 
ever reach that "rich thing" he's 
been advertisin'. And cranky ! 
Why say, Jim, what do you think 
he advised me to do yesterday? 
You know that best suit of clothes 
that I wore on the boat coming 

"Was that your best suit, Roxy?" 

"Best suit? Well I guess yes! 
What's the matter with that suit, I'd 
like to ask? I paid forty dollars 
for that suit in February. Don't 

you think it's, rather swagger? i 
wanted to look sorl of decent on the 
boat, you know- Aw yes, go on! 
Quit your gassin'! I know what 
you're goin' to say ; thai 1 paid dear 
to look decent, and then didn't look 
decent after all. Well, a seasick 
man doesn't care how he looks. 
And I did get some ungodly 
wrinkles in the coat, wearing it for 
a night-gown, that way; but it's a 
nice suit all the same. And that 
old turtle, Hamblin Smith, sug- 
gested that I sell it because it was 
unnecessary to pack clothes on the 
trail. Says I, 'I can't sell it up 
here.' 'Give it away, then,' says he. 
'To whom shall I give it?' says I. 
'You might find a squaw that would 
take it for second best,' says he. 
Well, laugh, if you think that's fun- 
ny, Jim. Don't mind me. Xow I 
don't see anything funny in it. If 
you want to laugh you should have 
heard what I said to him. I says, 
'I'm read^ to give my suit away 
when you get ready to abandon 
that forty-by-eighty-two-foot tarp 
you are lugging along to rest on 
nights.' I says, 'You've got very 
luxurious tastes Smith.' I says, Tt's 
a wonder to me you didn't insist on 
bringin' along a bath tub and a set 
of wire springs for your comfort.' 
Says I, 'There's that iron-gray mare 
just bending beneath the weight of 
a twenty-five pound tarp, and you 
kicking on my packing a light suit 
of clothes.' Says I, 'Why didn't 
you bring a study-lamp, and a set 
of the Encyclopedia Britannica to 
while away an idle hour evenings.' ' 
Before the expedition reached the 
mountain pass to which Smith's 
wavering captaincy led it, its mem- 
bers had been obliged to discard 
more than Smith's tarpaulin and 
Roxy's extra suit of clothes. Al- 
though one axe was an absolute 


necessity, they decided that three 
( superfluous, and two were lett 
in a road cabin. 

Here. Roxy also Forgot to put in 
a box of matches until after the 
packs were adjusted. "I'll stick 
'em in my pocket," he said. 

"You might as well throw- them 
away. They'll be wet ami worth- 
less in no time." said Willard. "Put 
them in this tin box ami stow them 
away under the eaves yonder." 

""That's right," acquiesced Roxy, 
'"some po.»r shivering devil who 
chances this way may thank God 
for 'em. I'll leave the end of the 

\ sticking out in sight so he can't 

ssibly miss 'em." 

If there is any surer way to test 
a man's character than travelling 
with him to Alaska it has not yet 
been discovered. 

Hamblin Smith did not need a 
week on the trail to prove himself 
inefficient, indolent and thoroughly 

Not so Roxy. He grumbled all 
the time, but never shirked a duty. 
In fact, if Willard had allowed it, 
Roxy would have done two-thirds 
of tin- growling and almost all of 
the work. It was Roxy's especiai 
duty to care for the horses, and he 
'lid it with a thoroughness prompted 
by his natural love of animals. 

( )ne day, about four o'clock, they 
ped not far from snow-line, on 
their downward journey to the val- 
ley where they were to find their 
fortune. Everybody, man or beast, 
was dropping with weariness. All 
they had ploughed through the 
snowy pass. A dozen times they 
had been obliged to remove the 
packs from their horses and pack 
them again until Roxy declared the 
tendons of his own arms ami legs 
knotted in the "diamond 
hitch." Now immediately upon go- 

ing into camp Smith threw himself 
upon his blanket and began study- 
ing his chart with anxious eyes, 
while Roxy took the pack from the 
animals once more, and Willard set 
about preparing the evening meal. 

Suddenly Roxy discovered that 
the axe was gone and consternation 
reigned in the camp. They were 
helpless without an axe. They 
could not cut wood for their fire 
and there would be no use of pro- 
ceeding on their journey the next 
day without it, for not an hour 
passed but they needed to hew a 
foothold for themselves or their 

"Somebody has got to go back 
and find it, that's a cinch," said 

"Who used the axe last?" de- 
manded Willard. 

"I did," owned Smith sullenly, 
"but I wouldn't go back to where I 
used that axe to save us all from 

"You look after the horses then, 
and I'll go back," groaned Roxy. 
"Jim can't go with that galled foot 
of his. That last waltz of his with 
the iron-gray mare has used him up 
for mushin' any farther tonight. 
I'll go. You tether the beasts, 

"Damn the beasts; let 'em tether 
themselves !" 

"If they aren't fastened they'll 
make back over the trail." 

"Leave grass and make back over 
a snow-covered trail? I guess not!" 

"You can bet high they'll do that 
same. They don't want gold; they 
want home." 

"Let the axe go. I'm too done 
up to stir tonight." 

''Deed I won't let the axe go!" 
there was a grieved look on Roxy's 
face. "You know well enough, 
Smith, I've got to have. that axe. If 



we didn't need it for anything else, 
I need it at meal times. Ever since 
I lost my jack-knife I've had to cut 
up my victuals with that axe. My 
aunt, who brought me up, used to 
be mighty particular about my 
table manners. I don't want to get 
to be a perfect heathen on this trip ; 
I've got to have something to eat 
with. Come now, drop that fasci- 
nating geographical study of yours, 
and try to remember just where you 
used the axe last." 

"As nearly as I can remember it 
was away up near the summit." 

Roxy groaned. "Two miles straight 
up ! Well, I'm off. Put on an extra 
slab of bacon, Willard. There is 
nothing like a pleasant mountain 
ramble just before tea to give a mar? 
an appetite." 

When Roxy had gone Willard 
fell to gathering such small branches 
as he could without the aid of an 
axe, and as he worked he brooded, 
and his fears for Celeste arose and 
goaded him to desperation. He had 
sent a line from Valdes full of man- 
ufactured hope, for before his ocean 
voyage was finished he had lost 
faith in his guide. He would not be 
able to hear from her again for 
months. And fifty dollars ! He 
threw on a handful of branches and 
the fire shot upward with a cheer- 
ful crackle. 

Smith crawled to the blaze and 
hunched his bulky shoulders in ap- 
preciation of the warmth. 

"Get up !" demanded Willard. He 
had never spoken that way before. 

The lizardly black eyes returned 
his gaze with insolence. "What 

"Because I tell you to ! I've got 
something to say to you, and I 
want you standing up when I say 
it. I don't want to take an unfair 
advantage of you." 

The black eyes turned instinctr 
ly toward the corner of the tenl 

where stood their owner's rifle. 
Willard noticed the movement. 

"Oh, you'd like to shoot mc, 
would you?" 

"No, but if you are in for a quar- 
rel I'd like to protect myself." 

"Get up, I say ! I want to ask 
if you know where we are, or if you 
took Roxy's money and mine on un- 
certainties? I mean business! I 
left a little woman in Seattle with 
only fifty dollars — " 

"Oh hell! I left a half dozen 
without a cent!'' and then he gur- 
gled, and the black of his eyes went 
out of sight under the pallid lids 
above, leaving but a streak of 
ghastly white, for the hand on his 
throat was the hand of a thorough- 
ly desperate man. 

"I have a mind to kill you !" 
ground Willard between his teeth, 
but even as he said it he relaxed 
his grip. 

Smith was humble enough. He 
had not dreamed Willard would be 
so angry. 

"Gad! Willard, you wouldn't 
tackle a man who is near his end 
with exhaustion, would you ?" 

"As for that, you are no worse 
off than I am." 

"Yes I am ; I'm not the man you 
are. You are younger and — in bet- 
ter condition. No, Willard, you 
are not the fellow to throttle a man 
weaker than yourself." 

"But you are the man to think 
of a gun at first sign of trouble." 

"Only in self-defense, Willard, 
only in self-defense. I'm going to 
be honest with you, Jim — perfectly 
honest — I — don't know where we 



"I believe you. Now make your 
confession complete while you are 
about it. Were you ever really an 

\ E W E N G L A X D M A G A Z I N E 

cy< witness to the panning miracle 
which you described so graphically 
to lv'\v and me when you were 
persuading us to take this trip?" 

There was a slight hesitation, and 
then Smith threw himself upon the 
mercy of Ins interluctor. "No, Jim 
— I "11 be frank — 1 was not." 

"\\ ere you ever further north 
than Everett before in your life?" 

"< m come now Jim — " 

Willard hurled himself away from 
the man in terror lest he should do 
something rash. His last hope was 
gone. That "rich thing" upon 
which Roxy had descanted with 
bulging, h»>;>eful eyes was a place 
of dreams, a will-o'-the-wisp, which 
had lured him even to the ends of 
the earth leaving Celeste and the 
baby to— He faced about and con- 
fronted Smith once more. 

"What possessed you to do it? 
What do you get by the lie?" 

Smith had recovered his grit. He 
fumbled at his injured throat and 
replied with eagerness, "In one way 
it was no lie. Cronk has been 
there: Cronk has seen it with his 
own eyes, and Cronk showed me on 
the map — " 

"Why didn't you tell Roxy and 
me that it was Cronk, not you, who 
saw tin- gold washed out in pan- 

"You wouldn't have come." 

"I ni"-' certainly would not have 

C M)]C !" 

"And I had to gel here somehow, 
Jim. I am a desperate man. I am 
penniless, and long past hard work. 

'I ln-rc was only one chance for me 
ami that was hick in the North. 
( ronk ha- been there. 1 le .saw 

with his own eyes all that I de- 
scribed to you. I felt thai I inns! 
'P here, bul I had no money — " 
"So you invited me to lake the 
bread out of my wife's mouth in 

order to bring you up here and I — 
accepted the imitation ! See here. 
Smith, 1 can't talk to you any more! 
1 can't talk to anybody! But when 
Row comes back with the axe, you 
will hand over that chart, and we 
will take charge of this expedition 
and do what greenhorns may with 

And then he went away under 
the pretense of gathering more 
sticks for the fire, but in reality to 
be alone and think of Celeste. 
What would she do? What could 
she do? Sick, alone, and penniless! 

At that time of the year the dark 
is long in coming in the Tanana re- 
gion, but it came before Roxy re- 
turned. While Willard and Smith 
were eating their silent and unsav- 
ory supper Roxy burst in upon 
them, axe in hand. 

"Maybe I haven't had a time!" he 
puffed. "I went back over two 
miles, up where the snow is deep 
and I hunted. Every place where 
the snow was trodden I pounded 
around to see if that dum axe hadn't 
got itself buried. While I was 
hunting about at the highest point 
— you know, Jim, — where that gully 
cuts into the side of the trail, I 
noticed that a fog was rising, and I 
began to get leery. It wasn't dark, 
but that infernal fog was shutting 
me in like a blanket. Thinks I to 
myself, 'Axe, or no axe, I've got to 
get out of here, or it won't be the 
axe alone that will be missing; it 
will be Roxy.' Well , just as I 
turned to make back, there, loom- 
ing through the fog came three big 
shapes, and 1 was mad. Says I, 
'Those infernal lazy louts down there 
have let those horses get loose, and 
here they come on their way home!' 
And just about then I realized that 
horses were not in the habit of 
snuffing peoples' tracks, and that 



was what those things were doing. 
Once I thought of dogs, and once I 
thought I had fairies from drinkin' 
too much, and then, by gracious, 
when they were pretty nearly up to 
me, I tumbled. They were bears of 
the largest brand ! 

"About that time your chum Roxy 
began to wish he had lived a more 
religious life. Why it was terrible! 
They had spots on 'em, too, and 
that's the kind that hunger for maa. 

"I skipped into the gulch — you re- 
member that gully up there near the 
summit — and they went shuffling 
by, still nosing in the snow tracks I 
had made but a minute before. You 
see I had doubled on myself for 
about twenty yards and that is all 
that saved me. When they had 
snuffled by I put out in this direc- 
tion. I never stopped to coal up 
until I got down to snow line. 

"About a quarter of a mile from 
camp — you remember, Jim, where 
the mule fell down — well there lay 
the axe in plain sight. How I ever 
got past it on my way up without 
cutting myself is a mystery to me." 

The opportunity to tell Roxy of 
Smith's confession of ignorance in 
regard to their route did not come 
to Willard until morning. 

"I knew it long ago!" Roxy de- 
clared with a melancholy shake of 
the head. "Why say, he inadvert- 
ently asked me one day what a 
ptarmigan was! I didn't tell you 
that. I knew you'd go dippy right 
away ; but my cheerful disposition 
allows me to keep up in the face 
of the most appalling discourage- 

"Yes," sneered Willard, "you are 
about as cheerful as a death sen- 
tence. I've given him fair warning 
that hereafter we lead the expedi- 

"What did you do that for? We 

can't lead it! How are we going 1" 
lead it when we don't know where 
it is this minute? We'll have all 
we can do to keep track of the axe. 
What we want to do is to let him 
keep on leading the expedition, and 
then with our latest breath we can 
lay the blame where it belongs." 

"Don't be foolish, Roxy. We 
must make a trial. We must push 

"Willard, my opinion is that we're 
about all in !" 

"Nice way to talk! What about 
your cheerful disposition ? I tell 
you, Roxy, we must win ! What 
will become of Celeste and the baby 
if I fail?" 

"That's easy; they'll just natural- 
ly everlastingly starve to death." 

"Your jokes are in bad taste, 

"That is not a joke." 

"Then you are a fool ! What I 
want to say is, that I am captain 

"Well I want to know!" ex- 
claimed Roxy. "You must have 
been elected during my absence." 

"I was. Now this is my plan: 
we'll mush along down to where 
the river is not quite so rapid, then 
we will build a boat , shoot the 
horses, and make the rest of the 
journey by water. It is less risky, 
and much quicker." 

Roxy agreed to everything ex- 
cept the shooting of the horses. 
During the construction of the boat 
he discovered fine pasturage about 
four miles below. "I'll take 'em 
down myself," he said. "Some poor 
devil hoofing it back may come 
acrost 'em and be glad of a lift, ' 
and then he sighed and shook his 
head. Roxy did nothing but sigh 
and shake his head nowadays. 

When the boat was finished and 
Roxy had taken his animals down 



to pasture, they transferred their 
packs and prepared to take their 
chances upon the river. 

"If I had any property to leave 
I'd stop along about here and make 
my will." said Roxy. 

Willard had been elected to 
steer, and as he took his place in 
the stern of the boat the dark swirl- 
ing water caught it and whirled it 
down stream. 

Row shook his head and groaned. 
For a half hour not a word was 
spoken, each man attending' strictly 
to the part oi the work which had 
been alloted him. 

From his station in the back of 
the boat Willard could overlook 
their possessions. He knew the 
contents of every pack, and as they 
were whirled along he calculated 
mentally how long their provision 
wotdd last. Their bacon would 
give out first, but by that time they 
ought to be taking out gold, that is 
if they were on the right track, and 
found the claim they were making 
for where they expected to find it; 
and by the time the flour was 
gone — 

At that moment the river ahead 
separated to embrace an island com- 
posed of a log jam. On either side 
the water boiled madly. The mel- 
ancholy countenance of Roxy ap- 
peared for an instant over his shoul- 
der as he uttered his prophecy. 

"Now this is wdiere we git it!" 
Ik; yelled, and the words were hard- 
ly out of his mouth when the boat 
struck the projecting wing of the 
jam and capsized, leaving its load 
in the boiling waters. The first ob- 
ject which met W'illard's view as 
he struggled to the surface was the 
bald head of Hamblin Smith, with 
its fringe of black hair. Later 
hal appeared in a fantastic 
finance all by itself ; then a 

hand arose from the yeasty deep 
and grasped it, and then Willard 
and Roxy were straining side by 
side for the river bank. 

"I told you so!" gasped Roxy, 
spewing water out of his mouth. 
"There's a job for us down there." 
He pointed to where a burly figure 
lay prone upon the bank. ''He's got 
a good deal of liquified glacier in- 
side of him, or I'm mistaken. Come, 
Jim, we must bail him out !" 

There was nothing for it now but 
to go back, and that without sup- 
plies of any kind. Their rifles were 
with their bacon and their flour at 
the bottom of the river. Thanks to 
Roxy, the horses were still in com- 
mission ; and as soon as Smith was 
able to travel the start was made. 
For three clays they were without 
food, then Roxy killed a wounded 
ptarmigan with a rock, and they 
quarreled over the warm, bleeding 
carcass. Roxy declared the feathers 
even were delicious. 

Their horses fared somewhat bet- 
ter, nibbling the sparse grass. 
They came at last to the road 
shanty and found the matches they 
had hidden. They also found, scat- 
tered over the floor, a quantity of 
white beans which some careless 
fellow had spilled and neglected to 
gather up again. These kept the 
life in them until they reached an 
Indian village where the principal 
industry was the drying of fish. 

Willard, gaunt-eyed and cadaver- 
ous, would have bartered ; but Roxy 
gorged himself with raw fish, and 
paid afterward. 

That was the last of actual star- 
vation. They ate fish after that un- 
til they reached a road house where 
they could obtain the sort of food 
which satisfies a white man. 

As they came trailing out they 
met others trailing in. Once, as 



their horses staggered through a 
maze of ''nigger-heads," plunging 
and falling, and plunging again, 
cutting their own poor legs at every 
step, they met a party of five, 
headed by a grey-haired man — a 
forty-niner. As he passed Willard, 
jumping stiffly from one "nigger- 
head" to another, sweat and blood 
upon his face, he smiled and called 
out, "How we wander I" then la- 
bored on, without wasting in further 
conversation the breath he so sore- 
ly needed. 

It is pitiful — this greed for gold. 
But who can wonder at it in this 
day and age? It is the key to every 
pleasure garden on earth. It will 
buy you respect, it will buy you 
love ; if you are ugly it will redeem 
your appearances in the eyes of the 
world. And it is so hard for poor 
men to come by nowadays. What 
wonder they are willing to endure 
much in the hope of getting it. But 
the poor horses bleed and suffer 
and struggle and starve for nought. 
The dogs do not want gold ; they 
want food and friends and they get 
neither in this gold-crazed North. 

Exposure, anxiety and lack of 
proper nourishment were doing 
their work upon Jim Willard. Roxy 
shook his head dolefully. 

"You are sick, Jim, I can see it 
in your face. You'll stay awhile in 
Valdes or I miss my guess." 

Willard turned upon him fiercely. 
"Shut up, Roxy! I can't be sick; 
I've got to get back to Seattle !" 

Later — yes, a good bit later — a 
bearded skeleton inquired with 
trembling lips if Roxy had had any 
word from Celeste. 

"Well no," answered Roxy," my 
naturally cheerful disposition for- 
bade me writing any such news as I 
had to offer to a starving widow. If 
I could have written, 'Your hus- 

band is well, has struck it rich, is 
coming on the first boat in the 
spring with a pokeful of dust/ I 
should have hastened to open the 
correspondence ; but to sign my 
name to such a hatful of calamities 
as I should have been obliged to 
hand out — no, no, Jim, I couldn't 
do it. And besides, when you went 
dippy, you neglected to leave her 
address. Why say, if I had been 
obliged to plant you up here your 
widow would never have known 
what became of you, unless, as the 
wife of some more fortunate man, 
she had happened to take a pleas- 
ure trip up to these parts at some 
future time and recognized your re- 
mains. There would have been 
nothing to hinder. It costs like 
fury to be sick up here, and a poor 
man just can't afford to be buried. 
I was making calculations to stand 
your remains up somewhere against 
a rock and let 'em freeze." 

"Roxy when can we start for 

"It will be some time, I'm afraid. 
You've been sick a long while, and 
we're in debt to the proprietor here 
clean over our heads. I've prom- 
ised to work and settle up every- 
thing before we pull out." 

"Oh God !" groaned the sick man, 
sinking on his pillow. 

Roxy cleared his throat harshly 
and ruffled his hair. This would 
never do. If Jim went to worrying 
he would be right back again as 
bad as ever. The doctor said so. 

"Don't worry, don't worry, Jim, 
you're all right ; and your wife — 
why Jim, she's probably left you by 
this time and gone off with some 
man better able to support her. The 
baby is without doubt in some nice 
clean orphan asylum — don't worry 
anyway. These pretty, frivolous, 
yellar-headed women usually win 



out. They strike on their feet like 
I never heard of one starv- 
■ g 

And then he laid the unsatisfac- 
tory condition oi his patient to the 
inefficiency of the physician in 

"l have done everything I can," 
he declared with a sigh, "and 1 do 

sh Jim would get well, or — some- 

r< •- <; ^ ^; 

Midnight, and the boat ding- 

• ging her slow way to the pier. 
She was two hours behind time, but 
it made little difference to the man 
i n deck whose coat collar was 
turned up about his face to keep 
"lit the damp air. Let her be two 
hours more in finding her wharf if 
she must : it would but postpone the 
dreaded discovery. 

Willard had braced himself for a 
shock. Celeste might be dead, or 
she might have deserted him. How 
could it be otherwise? Wherever 
she was her resentment would be 
t'"» great to be overcome. A 
woman always resents a financial 
failure. And the venture had been 
made against her wish. 

Well, if he found that his return 
came a- a misfortune to her he 
could at least do the Enoch Arden 
act : he could disappear again and 
leave her to a happier life. But if, 
on the other hand, he found her 
waiting, loving, in want perhaps 
bin -till his own Ah ( iod ! how 
his h<-ari yearned toward her and 
the child! ' 

' m tli<' si reel a feverish unresl 
i d him. I le had no idea of 
intruding upon her at that time of 
night : he only meanl to gaze up at 
her window- how could they slid 
i r windows ? With the besl in- 
tentions in the world Celeste could 
not claim windows without the 

wherewithal to pay for the privi- 
lege of calling them hers. 

As he walked he frequently 
mopped his face with his handker- 
chief. He was weak from his late 
illness, and worse still, without hope 
or courage for what the immediate 
future had in store for him. There 
was the window where he had 
hoped to see the familiar outline of 
Celeste's curtain. 

A white square seen dimly 
through the uncertain light, told 
Willard that the rooms were "to 

Later in the day he inquired of 
the woman in the lower flat if she 
knew the whereabouts of the for- 
mer second-floor tenant, Willard by 
name, but she was a newcomer and 
had never heard the name. 

For a week Willard prowled 
about town, filled with a bitter re- 
sentment at the ill fortune which 
had left him to stagger, a deserted 
beggar, about these familiar streets. 
He would not advertise in order to 
find Celeste. He wanted to find 
Celeste before she found him. One 
night, or rather in the edge of the 
evening, as he peered from the back 
of a swiftly moving car at the pe- 
destrians on the street, he saw 
Celeste. She was walking swiftly in 
the opposite direction from that in 
which the car was going, and walk- 
ing with the old free, springy step 
of her girlhood. Her hair flowed 
fluffy and golden beneath a stylish 
hat. Her brown skirts swished 
energetically clear of the walk, dis- 
closing the dainty swift-stepping 
feet beneath. 

Such a vision of material pros- 
perity was appalling to Willard in 
his present state of collapse. He 
swung free of the car and followed 
the vision at a safe distance, which, 
despite his best efforts, widened 

A P L l T X G E R 


constantly until he lost her in the 
door of a big building. 

"Evidently better without me," 
he said bitterly, and turned away. 

"Well by the great jumping Jeru- 
salem if here ain't Jim Willard !" 
cried a voice. 

There was an overpowering odor 
of cigarette smoke, a thin, flabby 
hand on his sleeve, and Bubby 
Dush, his young cousin, stood be- 
fore him, his indefinite features, 
milky eyes, and generally anemic 
personality quite animated by his 

"Well if Celeste won't whoop 
when she see you! Just come?" 

"Just come," lied Willard, cheer- 
fully abandoning his late decision to 
take himself off to the land of de- 
spair in silence. "Do you think— 
she will be glad to see me, Bubby?" 

"Glad ! Say, she'll go plumb up 
through the roof ! She don't talk 
about anything else ; it's all 'When 
Jim gets here.' ' 

"Perhaps she expects me with a 
pokeful of gold?" 

"Aw — gold ! She said all the 
time you'fi come back as poor as a 
country minister. But say ! she's 
makin' money hand over fist. Why 
say, we've done well here. Fine 
roomin'-house, you know. Plumb 
full this minute. Celeste does the 
business part, ma makes the beds 
and I tend the kid and sweep the 
halls. Say ! You ain't seen the kid 
yet, have you? Well say, you want 
to know her! Cunningest little bag- 
gage in the city. Celeste shows her 
your picture and says, 'This is your 
own dear old daddy who is comin' 
home soon,' and she'll flop her arms 
up and down and squeal like a 

At this juncture the front door 
swung open and a clear, high voice 
called- out, "Bubby, I want you this 

minute!" and then an avalanch ol 

brown frock, snowy arms and 
golden hair fell upon Willard's 
shabby coat, and the same delicious 
voice was sobbing, "( )h [im ! Oh 
Jim ! You've conic at last !" 

And he had contemplated steal- 
ing away ! 

An hour later, curled up beside 
him on a sofa in a seven-by-nine re- 
ception room, she told him all 
about it. 

"You see I had to do something, 
Jim. I was in an awful predica- 
ment; half sick, with Aunt Martha 
Sam, Bubby Dush, and the baby on 
my hands. I felt sure your venture 
would come to nothing — yes, yes, I 
know you have failed — I could sec 
that — but don't you worry; I've 
got a gold mine right here, f had 
a solemn, nose-to-nose talk with 
Aunt Martha Sam. I says, 'Now, 
Aunt Martha Sam, I'm awfully 
sorry I can't entertain you as I 
would like to, but the fact is I am in 
a boat, and I am going to do some- 
thing desperate! I'm going to be a 
plunger,' and I went out and paid 
every cent of that fifty dollars for 
the first week's rent for this room- 

"Meanwhile, Aunt Martha Sam 
fed us on her return ticket. I hated 
to have Aunt Martha Sam sell her 
return ticket — oh you needn't 
laugh; Aunt Martha Sam and Bub- 
by Dush have stood at my back 
manfully. The house began to fill 
at once, and we have cleared off the 
debts and have a little money in 
the bank. What do you think of 

Jim sighed. "Do you feel like 
taking on another hand — say for 
the spitoons?" 

Celeste giggled and hugged him 
tight. "You shall be partner in the 
business — silent, of course, because 



— well — men don't understand run- 
nine: a business of this kind. Busi- 
ss ability doesn't depend on sex. 
That knowledge has been forced 
upon me. Now there's Bubby 
Dush; he's no earthly use anywhere 
except in the nursery, but he is a 
masterly hand with the babv. She 

loves him. He would be perfect as 
a nurse-girl if he only would give 
up cigarettes. But now that you 
are home to help we shall have more 
leisure, and be so comfy!" 

And Jim kissed her and prepared 
to become a very humble and tract- 
able partner in the business. 

The Purple Island 

By M. E. Starbuck 

Purple Island! Purple Island! 
There are mystic moments when 
All the voices of the springtime 
Call us o'er and o'er again. 

And beyond, the silver harbor, 
And the gray roofs of the town ; 
And the tender purple shadows 
Of the night come drifting down. 

Back to thee, far Purple Island 
Where the slow tides rise and fall — 
And the spirit slips its moorings 
When in spring the voices call. 

Soft the air and full of fragrance 
Breath of sweet-fern, breath of pine, 
Pungent odor of the cedars, 
Bayberry and wild grape-vine. 

•Ml the weary ache of longing Tranquil miles of open moorland 

Born of absence fades away; Once again before us lie, 

We can see the white sails winging Once again the crooning ocean 

ard at the close of day, Soothes us with its lullaby. 

And the old spell falls upon us 
As the stars shine out above, 
And thy peace enfolds us wholly 
Purple Island of our love. 

Mistress Mary 

By Frederick M. Smith 

THE old-fashioned white house 
sat on the very top of the hill ; 
in front of it was an old- 
fashioned terraced garden full of 
flowering shrubs and other peren- 
nials, white bridal wreath and pink 
azaleas, peonies of still deeper pink, 
yellow lilies, and roses that were 
deep red. In the middle of the rose 
plot a girl in a white dress was 
working. She had pushed back her 
straw garden hat till it dangled at 
her shoulders and left her hair free 
to reflect the glories of the sun and 
be tumbled by the light morning 

In the gay June weather both the 
sun and the breeze were doing their 
parts. It was very brown hair; she 
had eyes like brown flowers; her 
cheeks were brown, too. And her 
nose had that upward turn which 
poets call "tip-tilted" and the irrev- 
erent "pug." It was given an added 
fascination by a little line of freckles 
which marched across it at the 

A man came through a clap-gate 
in the fence which separated the 
terraced garden from the next yard. 
He was not a young man, neither 
was he old, not by a great deal, 
though there were the beginning of 
wrinkles about his eyes and the hair 
at the temples was salted with gray. 
But the man had lived alone for a 
long time and had begun to believe 
himself old, which habit of mind is, 
of course, a mistake; if persisted in 
long it is fatal to 1 youth. There 

are, however, remedies which are 
efficacious if applied in time. 

The girl looked up at the click of 
of the gate. "Good morning, Hor- 
ace," said she. 

"Hello, Molly. How does the 
garden grow?" 

Molly frowned, "No silver bells 
or cockle shells or pretty maids," 
she said discontentedly. 

"Not in a row, perhaps," cor- 
rected Horace. 

Molly ignored the correction. "It 
needs rain," she advanced, practi- 
cally. "All plants need rain if they 
are to grow— garden plants and 
other sorts." 

"But it seems to be doing beauti- 
fully, and I thought we had had a 
good deal of rain." 

"No we haven't," said Miss Alolly 

Horace stroked his nose, "What's 
the matter?" he asked. "Has any- 
thing gone wrong?" 

Molly looked at him for a mo- 
ment, soberly, and then turned to 
the roses. But she sighed. 

"If there's anything I can do?" 
"I'm afraid I oughtn't to tell 
you," said Molly, "I haven't any 
right to bother you with my 

Horace had come up very close 
to her now. "Molly, I've known 
you ever since you were very little. 
I'm your oldest friend. If there's 
a trouble, who has a better right to 
help you than I?" 

Through the brown on the girl's 

N E \Y E X G L A X D M A G A Z I N E 

chocks came the faintest tinge of 
color. "] suppose/* she hesitated, 
"that 1 might tell you. though one 
oughtn't to talk to one man about 

Horace frowned. "About an- 
other man?'" he questioned. 

Molly gave a little affirmative 
duck o\ the head. 

There was a silence. "A — a 
young man?" asked Horace, finally. 

'The nod was more decided. 

Horace turned away and looked 
down the terraces, off over the tree- 
tops to the thin gray line of moun- 
tains in the east. ''Perhaps," he 
hesitated, "I haven't any right to 
ask about that; but I'm such an old 
beggar, and I've helped bring you 
up— If 1 could do anything — " 

"I know you could,'' said Molly 
hopefully. "You could influence 

The man minutely examined a 
r. .sc leaf. "You want me to inter- 

"Well, I'd like somebody to do 
something," said the girl. 

"Your father doesn't like the 
man ':" 

Molly shook her head till the hat 

at her back wobbled. "Tt's father 

who's doing it. He got it into his 

head that I must marry; he wants 

see me settled." 

"And you don't want to?" Try 
a- he would Horace could not keep 
a little note of exultation out of his 

"Nol yet." 

Horace gripped himself and af- 
fected to be judicial. "Of course," 
he commented, slowly, "you will be 
be getting married some day. [t's 
righl you should. A girl's happier. 
We imi-t resign ourselves — I mean 
I understand how your father feels. 
You're nearly a woman." 

Molly'- big, brown eyes glinted. 

"Nearly!" she echoed scornfully. 
"Perhaps I'm quite enough of one 
not to want every man who is 
picked out for me." 

"He has picked out some one?" 

"There's a man he likes and 
whom he thinks I ought to like. I 
shouldn't wonder if they had ar- 
ranged it between them." 

"I suppose you don't want to tell 
me who?" 

Molly pondered a minute, and 
back in the brown eyes there was a 
question, a doubt. "I suppose I'd 
better not." 

"Is it anybody I know?" 

Molly destroyed a red rose petal 
by petal. Then she shook her 
head. "No, you don't know him," 
she replied gravely. 

"And you are very much opposed 
to— to— " 

"Yes," she said, decidedly. "I 
should hate a man who married me 
just because it seemed convenient 
for both of us." 

Again Horace adopted the judi- 
cial. "Maybe you'll learn to like 
him. A girl doesn't always know 
her own mind." 

"A girl knows her own mind 
quite as much as a man does. I 
think she knows it better. But any- 
way, I wouldn't marry him if I did 
love him, because he doesn't love 
me." There was a glow of decision 
in her voice. 

"Doesn't love you !" 

"I told you it was just an arrange- 
ment between him and father." 

"That's absurd. Your father 
wouldn't make you marry a man 
who didn't care for you." 

"bather probably thinks he does 
care," she submitted. 

1 lorace stared at her. 

"But I shall have nothing to do 
with him," said Molly firmly. 
"And you can help me by telling 



father so. You can tell him I won't 
listen to it. You must make him 
see that I'm quite able to take care 
of myself, and that it is nonsense to 
talk about seeing me settled before 
he dies, because he's going to live a 
long time yet. He's not an old 
man, is he, Horace?' 


"You tell him that. Tell him it's 
foolish to urge me. He thinks a 
lot of your opinion, you know. 
You've been neighbors so long, and 
and he knows you have a brotherly 
interest in me, so your telling him 
won't seem selfish." 

Horace took a long breath and 
looked at her. "He'll probably 
think I'm meddling. But I don't 
think you should be urged. When 
the right man comes, we must give 
you up. But there's time enough ; 
if you're sure this isn't the right 
one, your father will understand. 
You're mistaken about him." 

"I'm not mistaken. I suppose 
that rather than 'meddle,' as you 
call it, you'd be satisfied to see me 
marry just to get a home?" 

Horace stiffened. "That's un- 
kind. You know I'd do anything if 
I thought I could make you hap- 

Molly looked toward the house. 
"If you really cared to help me, I 
guess you could," she said. 

"Is your father in the house?" 

"He's in the sitting-room." 

Horace went firmly into the big, 
sunny sitting-room, and sat down 
before John Bascom. The old man 
smiled a greeting. 

"John," began the other, "you'll 
not think I'm meddling?" 


"There's something I want to 
say about Molly." 

John Bascom smiled again. 
"Why, Horace," he said. "Nothing 

that you could say about M0II5 
would be meddling. You have her 
interests at heart as much as [." 

Horace nodded slowly. "God 
knows I have," he said, fervently-. 
"I've watched her since she was a 
baby. I've seen her grow into her 
fine womanhood. If I wasn't such 
an old fellow — But it's this thing 
about her marriage that I want to 
ask about. She has been telling 
me — You mustn't mind her tak-- 
ing me into her confidence. She 
looks on me as a brother — She" 
has been telling me that you want 
her to marry." 

"Oh, she's been telling you that?" 

"Yes, and of course I understand 
how you feel about it. You think 
you're getting along and you want 
to see her provided for, but there's 
not need of hurrying matters. In 
the first place, she's young and 
you're not old. There's plenty of time 
for her to get settled before any- 
thing happens to you even if she 
waits five years. And in the next 
place, if anything does happen, you 
can trust me, you can trust all of us 
to see that she's looked after. She 
ought to have every opportunity to 
make a free choice. Is it good to 
urge her to marry a man w r ho isn't 
suited to her?" 

John Bascom coughed. "Isn't he 
suited to her?" he asked. 

"I suppose she's the judge, and 
she seems to think not." 

"Yes, she's the judge. Let's see, 
she has told you that I want her to 
marry a certain, — some particular 


"She is quite determined not to 
marry the man vou have thought 

"Then, she didn't tell vou who he 

was r 




"I couldn't ask her that." 

John Bascom smiled. "Horace," 

he said, "you and 1 are old friends, 
SO you mustn't think I'm meddling. 
1 think a good deal of Molly. Since 
her mother died she is all I've had, 
but some day I'm going the way of 
all flesh. It isn't as if Molly had a 
lot of cousins and aunts and 
brothers to look after her. She'll 
be practically alone. You say she 
has good friends; but they are not 
quite the same as those of her own 
blood. You can't blame me for be- 
ing a little anxious about her fu- 

"No, but—" 

"I'll acknowledge that I do hope 
to see her married. I've never ex- 
actly mentioned any particular 
man — " 

"Xever mentioned!'' 

"But I suppose I've hinted. I 
guess she knows pretty well the 
man I'd like her to marry, and of 
course the only man who ever came 
into my head, or hers either, in that 
connection is a man who has known 
her ever since she wore short 
dresses, a man whose garden isn't 
miles from ours, a man I could 
trust her with. Horace — " 

"Me!" said Horace with a gasp. 

John Bascom smiled. "You must 
forgive me, Horace, but since you've 
spoken as you have you'll let me 
say that. I don't want to meddle." 

"Me!'' said Horace again; but a 
sudden warmth came into his eyes. 
"I'm loo old/' he added. "No won- 
der Molly wouldn't care for me." 

"Don't get into the way of calling 
yourself old. A man of five and 
thirty is in his best youth, and as 
long as Molly is in love with von — " 

"With me!" 

"You haven't seen it ?" 

"Bui she has just declared that 
she wouldn't marry the man you 

wanted her to. She made me come 
and tell you so. It can't be me; 
she said I didn't know him." 

"Well, do you, Horace?" 

For ten seconds the men looked 
into each other's eyes, and the light 
in the older man's was half humor- 
ous, half serious questioning. 

Suddenly Horace laughed boy- 
ishly. "I wonder if I do?" he said, 
and as he thought of Molly among 
her roses, "I guess there's a good 
deal I don't know," he added. 

"You and I haven't kept up with 
her, Horace. We've been thinking 
of her as a child and she's a woman. 
She told you the man didn't love 
her, and that was why she wouldn't 
love him." 

"God knows I love her," said 
Horace with a tremble in his voice. 

"But you've never told her so." 

"I loved her a a child, and lately 
I've known that I love her as a 
woman. But I tried to keep it to 

"Women like to be told, Horace." 

"I tried to keep it because I 
thought it would not be fair to her. 
I tried not to let her see. But you 
know I love her." 

"I guess she knows, too." "' i 

"She knows !" 

"They see a good deal, Horace. 
You can't keep things like that 
from a woman. They have their 
ways. They're all alike whether 
they are born on a hillside in New 
Hampshire or in a city like New 
York. When it comes to dealing 
with men, they're all alike. They 
have their ways of knowing and 
their ways, queer ways, Horace, of 
letting others know, but — " 

But Horace was going out of the 

He walked out of the house on 
the hilltop and down through the 
old-fashioned, terraced garden to 



the girl among the roses. Her in- 
dustry increased as he approached, 
and she did not look up till he 
stopped quite close to her. Then 
something in his face made her 
cheeks become sudden rivals of the 
red blossoms that nodded around 
her head. But woman-like, she 
turned her eyes to the flowers. 

"I have talked with your fa- 

"Oh !" said Molly. 

"He says you've got to marry the 

Molly bridled instantly. 

"Suppose you were mistaken 
about him? Suppose he does love 
you very much? Suppose he has 
loved you always, through child- 
hood to womanhood? Suppose he 
has known for the last year that he 

wanted you for his wife, but be- 
cause he thought he was too much 
of an old fogy and because he didn't 
believe you could ever care for him, 
he didn't say anything? If the man 
felt that way, if he wanted you a 
lot, even though he is a good deal 
of a fool about some things, do you 
think you could love him a little, 
Molly, and marry him?" 

It was a long speech, but Horace 
made it steadily, and at the end he 
took possession of the small pink 
hand that was fumbling vaguely 
with the green leaves. 

As Molly met his eyes, she slipped 
an arm around his neck and hid her 
face on his arm. "If he was such an 
old dear as you, Horace, I guess I'd 
have to," she said with a little gulp 
of content. 


The Hills of God 

By Konan Machugh 

Sometimes, when low across the land 
Glints the first ray of evening star, 
The hills of God, by day so far. 
Lifted and glowing seem to stand, 
More near, more fair, more saintly grand, 
While all between the weary way 
Is wrapped in cloak of sombre gray 
Close drawn at Night's serene command. 

The hills of God; so high and fair, 
Athwart the sunset's crimson bars 
They lift a stairway to the stars. 
And softly up each glowing stair 
The giant burdens of the day 
Climb, angels in the far away. 

The Massachusetts Bench and Bar 

Bx Stephen O. Sherman and Weston F. Hutchins 

Some of the Humorous Incidents in the Practice of Law 

George M. SiearnSj the Man of Magnetic Personality — Some of His Famous Witti- 
< — His Lore for the Little Towns — His Encounters with the Preachers — "Another 
Victim of Circumstantial Evidence" — Tolman Willcy and His Retort on Judge Lord — 
His FrigJit at the Bath House — Edzvard D. Sohier and His Apt Illustrations — Charles 
A. Welch and Chief Justice Shaw — Judge Lord and the Intoxicated Attorney — Durant's 
Sharp Rejoinder to Butler — Judge E. R. Hoar's Best Mot — A. A. Ranney's Sharp 
Answer to Judge Lord — Robert Morris and A Case in Which He Came Off Second 
Best — So);ic of the Humorous Sayings of Judge Sherman — Extemporaneous Witticisms 
of Joseph Lundy. 

SEVERE as are the require- 
ments of the law, and there is 
no profession in which they 
are more exacting, it has its humor- 
ous incidents, which are relished all 
the more because of the careful and 
confining study and the close atten- 
tion which attorneys are required 
to give to every detail in order to 
prosecute their cases successfully. 
When these incidents occur they 
serve as an escape valve and are 
greatly enjoyed by bench, bar and 
spectators as well. It is by no 
means an easy matter to attempt 
to classify the bright sayings, the 
-harp repartee and the- amusing re- 
joinders of bench and bar, because 
some of the best things are the only 
things in that line from that person. 
The real wit is that which sparkles 
while poring over the dusty tomes 
of the law, while ministering to the 
people in the pulpit, while presiding 
on the bench, or pursuing any other 


avocation, and humor like the pent 
up mountain stream will break forth 
from its environment, force its way 
through any obstacle, and pursue 
its purling, babbling course to the 

A magazine article is too brief to 
give anything but a bare outline of 
the rich and varied career of a man 
like George M. Stearns. When one 
endeavors to fill in the details or in- 
dicate the workings of such a 
mind, at the outset he encounters 
that most perplexing and inexpli- 
cable thing, a magnetic personality. 
George M. Stearns belonged to that 
class of Americans of whom Abra- 
ham Lincoln was the most shining 
example, men in whose minds there 
was absolutely no consciousness of 
class distinctions. No account of 
Mr. Stearns could be complete with- 
out its stories. Here again the 
writer is confronted with another 
lifnculty, for the number and va- 



riety of these is so great that the 
choice becomes a perplexing one. 

Upon returning from a jaunt with 
a brother lawyer, he said to his 
companion, "Now I'll go home and 
tell my wife I've been with you all 
day and she will be delighted. At 
other times when I go home, and 
tell her with whom I have been, she 
says, 'Oh George ! Oh George ! 
How can you associate with such 

c. A. WELCH 

men !' And when I have come to 
think it over, some of them have 
been the biggest scamps in the 
country, and I hadn't even thought 
•of it!" . 

In one of his cases Mr. Stearns 
appeared for an administrator who 
Avas trying to recover for the estate 
property that had been fraudulently 
conveyed. On the third day of the 
trial he told his client that he 


feared they were beaten. "See that 
first man in the back row of the 
jury seats?" he said. "He has all 
of his property in his wife's name. 
Two seats from him is a man who 
never dared to own anything in his 
own right. In the front row is the 
confidential bookkeeper of a firm 
that has just assigned." Three 
more men whose sympathies would 
naturally be with the defendant 
were pointed out by Mr. Stearns 
who added, "But Ave are in here and 
must get out." In his argument 
for half an hour he struck straight 
from the shoulder at the terrible 
immorality of concealing property 
from creditors. Then followed a 
half hour of stories, told in his in- 
imitable way. every one of which 



set the court and jury into a roar. 
In the jury room the confidential 
bookkeeper became a warm advo- 
cate for the restoration of the prop- 
erty and none of the other five ju- 
rors dared to avow sympathy for 
the wicked practice exposed by Mr. 
Stearns, who as a consequence won 
his case. 

When invited by Mr. Spencer, to 
meet the members of the Boston 
Stock Exchange, Mr. Stearns sent 
this characteristic reply. "I am 
very sorry to be compelled to de- 
cline your kind invitation. . . . 
I have often met members of the 
Boston Stock Exchange, and am 
profoundly impressed with their 
ability, and worth. ... I know 
they have money, because mine is 
gone, and I feel that they are highly 
respectable, else I never should 
have met them. The great politi- 
cal cries exalting the encouragement 
of labor are now heard on every 
side, but I have never discovered 
any impulse to labor so command- 
ing and vigorous as contact with 
the Stock Exchange. Every time I 
have met its members I have been 
confronted, not with a theory but a 
condition, and that condition most 
imperatively demanded that I should 
go to work and earn more money. 
All this however has been accom- 
plished with such urbanity, grace 
and politeness that I have been bet- 
ter pleased to be penniless than to 
have lost the meeting and been 
laden with the gold of Ophir." 

Mr. Stearns once defended a 
young man who obtained his living 
in various ways, some of them not 
quite commendable perhaps. He 
had har] a quarrel with another boy 
and in the course of the altercation 
had bitten the other boy's thumb 
off. His indictment followed and 

the prospect of going to state prison 
for a protracted term was good 
when Mr. Stearns took the case and 
after considerable effort secured his 
discharge, for which he was exceed- 
ingly grateful. Some time after 
that, as Mr. Stearns was walking 
along a street in New Bedford, he 
met his former client who was very 
much pleased to see him. "How are 
you getting along?" asked Mr. 
Stearns. "Poor, poor," was the 
reply. "I had a slick thing, a little 
dive with a good game on the side, 
when the fool of a city elected a 
Christian mayor who poked his nose 
into everything and broke up all 
the good things I had." As he was 
talking they came to a fine stone 
church and the former client point- 
ing to it said emphatically, "Mr. 
Stearns, them's the damned things 
that's ruining this country." 

While acting as counsel for the 
residents of Beverly Farms, before 
a legislative committee in 1887, Mr. 
Stearns said, "I love these little 
towns. I was born in Stoughton, 
and I spent my early days upon the 
hills of the little bit of a town of 
Rowe, with six hundred inhabitants. 
I can truly say that I passed the 
purest and most unsoiled portion of 
my life there. I cannot but remem- 
ber with fondness, as I look back to 
that life and memory brings up 
again its visions of the past, those 
joys that came from ordinary 
things, before satiety demanded the 
peppered and highly seasoned ex- 
citements of the world to satisfy; 
of the dance down in the farmer's 
kitchen ; of the little girl with red 
hair and the red flannel dress, that 
I danced with and who, as we went 
down the centre and came up on the 
outside, emitted no odor of musk, 
no perfume of Lubin, but the whole- 



some, and pungent fragrance be- 
stowed by frying doughnuts." 

Mrs. Stearns was a devout at- 
tendant at the Unitarian church in 
Chicopee. During the summer sea- 
son, in the absence of the regular 
pastor, a student was generally 
called in to supply the pulpit. On 
one of these summer Sundays Mrs. 
Stearns returned home and greeted 
her husband with, "We had a most 
excellent sermon, and I wish George 
you had been there to hear it. It 
was a discourse against horse trot- 
ting and gambling in all its forms. 
I have invited the preacher here to 
dinner, and I don't want you to say 
anything to make the young man 
feel uncomfortable." The caller 
came, dinner was announced and 
when soup had been served Mr. 
Sterns addressing the visitor said. 
"My wife tells me that you preached 
an excellent sermon to-day." "I 
fear she flatters me," replied the 
preacher. "And that you denounced 
horse trotting, and gambling in 
general?" "Yes, I certainly did not 
favor those forms of sport." "Per- 
haps you don't know that I'm 
rather fond of playing a game of 
cards and that I am president of 
the Hampden Park Trotting Asso- 
ciation?" "Well," said the preacher, 
"I am very sorry if I have said any- 
thing that is offensive to you." "Oh 
no! It's not offensive to me. I tell 
you it would be a d d poor ser- 
mon that wouldn't hit me some- 

Mr. Stearns always liked to tell of 
another young clergyman who 
came to his house. At the morning 
service he had uttered a very devout 
prayer, in which he spoke several 
times of "We poor worms of the 
dust." At the Stearns house, he 
had a good, wholesome dinner, with 

a bottle of champagne, which In 

supposed was cider "made by ai 
old farmer named Mumm," and a 

the afternoon service, strode proudly 
up the broad aisle, and began hi; 
prayer with. "We thank Thee C 
Lord, that we are created in Thine 

Once, while trying a case, Mr 
Stearns said he could best illustrate 
circumstantial evidence by telling 
about a boy in Chicopee, who was 
very fond of custard pie. One da\ 
when the folks were away, he goi 
into the pantry and finding a cus- 
tard pie, ate it all. Then, thinking 
of a strap which was used by hi c 
father on important occasions, he 
caught the house cat, smeared cus- 
tard over its mouth and paws and 
allowed it to go. The old man re- 
turned in the meantime, found thai 
the pie had been devoured, got a 
rope, fastened the cat to a tree 
went to the house, and got his gun 
The boy, who had sneaked behine 
the barn remarked, as he heard the 
explosion that followed, "There goes 
another victim of circumstantia 

Tolman Willey, one of the ablesl 
lawyers of the last generation, was 
trying a case before Judge Lord a1 
East Cambridge. For some reason 
the court got out of patience with 
the way the case was being pre- 
sented and Willey's client was un- 
mercifully questioned and, as a re- 
sult, was practically put out oi 
court. Willey, who was a large, 
well dressed man, of fine presence 
and a wonderful command oi 
words, took it all in silence while n 
bland smile wreathed his face. 
A"\ nen Judge Lord had finished his 
sharp examination Willey turned 
around, faced the audience and. 
casting his eyes up to the gallery 



at the rear oi the room, asked in 
the gentlest voice possible. "Is there 
anyone else here who would like to 
question my client?" 

In another case. Willey was op- 
posed by Edward Avery, who. with 
rge M. Stearns, made one of the 
best political teams the Massachu- 
setts democracy has ever put into 
the held. While Willey was ad- 
dressing the jury Avery interrupted 
him several times and, when pa- 
tience ceased to be a virtue, he 
turned gravely to the court and 
asked, "May it please your honor, 
How long am I to be annoyed by 
the buzzing of this gad-fly?" The 
shot was effective and Avery ceased 
his interruptions. 

A large handsome man, with black 
hair and neat in his attire, Willey 
was nevertheless what would be 
called "made up" in these later 
days. lie wore a wig and his 
clothing was so made as to add to 
the beauty of his fine figure. The 
older lawyers tell a story of his 
experiences in the public bath 
houses, which were a well known 
resort on what is now Court street 
in the days when Willey was a 
famous figure at the bar. He was a 
frequenter of these baths and one 
day while there a big rat in some 
way found entrance and appeared 
in Willey's compartment, much to 
hi- surprise and not a little to his 
dismay. Although he was not in 
the toggery of polite society, Wil- 
ley beal a hasty retreat and ap- 
peared before the hardly less sur- 
prised bath keeper minus his wig 
and the oilier essentials of his 
make-up. What this strange thing 
thai bad come in upon him so 
suddenly, the bath keeper could not 
for the life of him make out, but 
just as In- was < >w the poinl of send- 

ing for the watch he found out that 
it was Mr. Willey, that an enor- 
mous rat had caused all the trouble, 
and when the latter had been des- 
patched quiet w r as restored and Mr. 
Willey w r as enabled to resume his 
ablutions in peace. 

Sohier & Welch ! How those 
names carry one back into the last 
generation, into the time when 
there w r ere giants in this profession 
of law, when the men who acquired 
large fortunes by its practice were 
few and when those fortunes repre- 
sented an enormous amount of 
work. Both of these men were un- 
usually successful at the bar, where 
their firm was known and honored 
for a period of sixty years. Edward 
D. Sohier died in 1888, Mr. Welch 
survives and now resides at Cohas- 
set. He is still active at ninety-one, 
seldom visits Boston, and gives 
most of his time to the care of large 
trusts. Mr. Sohier was one of the 
greatest humorists at the bar and 
no one has since risen to fully take 
his place. His humor found ex- 
pression on every occasion and 
many a dry trial was brightened by 
his witty remarks, as one day when 
he sat in the Supreme Court room 
with his head bowed down on the 
table before him. As he sat there, 
the full bench filed slowly in. It 
included two young men who had 
just been appointed and who were 
not particularly well known to Mr. 
Sohier. Raising his head he looked 
the court over and then, turning to 
an acquaintance who sat beside 
him, whispered, "What's this, a 
kindergarten ?" 

Labored and studious in argu- 
ment, keen in perception, Mr. Sohier 
was always apt in illustration, and 
in nothing was he more apt than in 
his application of names that were 




suggested by the peculiarities of 
men. "The Camel" was the name 
he applied to one man who never 
drank water, "because," as he naive- 
ly remarked, "a camel always car- 
ries his." A client who moved 
about on crutches was always re- 
ferred to as "The Devil on two 
sticks" and a lawyer who was very 
particular about his personal ap- 
pearance was referred to as "Gin- 
ger tail." In one case he had a 
shaky witness. Some one in speak- 
ing of the case, said, "I don't know 
Mr. Sohier, what will happen to the 
case when that witness takes the 
stand." "The fear of God will 
strike him," said Sohier, and sure 
enough, when he was called to the 
stand he made an excellent witness 
and Sohier won his case. 

When a young man as he entered 
his office a dog bit him on the leg 
and he thereupon proceeded to pun- 
ish the animal. His father, who 
saw him, shouted, "Ned, don't kick- 
that dog!" "But he bit me, sir!" 
"No he didn't bite you!" "Then I 
didn't kick him." 

Years afterward when he had at- 
tained a foremost place at the bar 


he entered his office, which was 
where Young's Hotel now stands 
on Court street and said he wanted 
to buy land on the Back Bay. 
"What kind of land?" he was asked. 
"O any kind of land. I don't care 
what it is." "What do you want to 
buy land on the Back Bay for?" 
"Well I've been driving across 
there every day and I imagine I 


smell an offensive odor from those 
flats. I know if I own land there I 
shall never smell it again." 

It was when Mr. Sohier was in- 
formed that Henry F. Durant had 
become converted and intended to 
become a lay preacher, that he re- 
plied. "That so? Going- to turn 
state's evidence on the devil, is he?" 

Once there was consternation 
among the members of the bar, 
when it was learned that Jndges 
Aldrich, Wilkinson and Bacon were 
t<~> preside respectively in the tw r o 
civil and the criminal sessions of the 
snperior court. Judge Aldrich was 
a. confirmed dyspeptic, Judge Wil- 
kinson was very deaf, and as a law- 
yer Judge Bacon, in Mr. Sohier's 
"pinion, did not rank among the 
highest. On being asked what he 
thought of the combination Mr. 
Sohier said, "One won't hear you, 
the second can't, and it don't make 
any difference whether the third 
- <»r not." 

It was to one attorney, whom we 
will call Thompson, that Mr. Sohier 
referred as "Lighthouse," because 
a- he explained, he had studied law 
by a revolving light, and hence his 
knowledge of it was only good in 
spots. The name stnek ,and he was 
known as "Lighthouse Thompson ' 
r after. 

Afore than one member of the bar 
in active practice to-day, has reason 
to remember the apt name that was 
applied to him by E. D. Sohier, the 
"Tadpole and Pollywog," and "Bo- 
and Zephryus" being instances 
of this. The story about the horse, 
which has been attributed to Mr. 
S<T]Vr\ belongs really to his life 
long partner. Welch and Wendell 
Phillips, while at Harvard, were 
joint proprietors <>\ a nag which 
balky and would never go over 

a bridge. Naturally they wanted to 
sell him and their advertisement 
read: "For Sale. A horse. To be 
sold for no fault except that the 
owner is desirous of leaving town.'' 

Mr. W r elch always enjoyed telling 
the story of his first appearance be- 
fore Chief Justice Lemuel Shaw. 
After his argument he remained 
standing and the Chief Justice, ob- 
serving it, asked, "Are you through, 
Brother Welch?" "Yes, your hon- 
or.'' "Then why don't you sit 
down, sir?" It was on that occa- 
sion that another attorney, in argu- 
ing his case, repeated the words,. 
"Look at the statutes," so often 
that the learned jurist at last lost 
patience with him and retorted, 
"Huh ! Look at them yourself, sir." 
It was after Mr. Welch had met 
with an accident, by which he lost 
the use of his lower limbs for a 
time, that an enterprising reporter 
went to see him in regard to the 
equipment most needed by a law- 
yer. "What does a lawyer need 
most?" he repeated slowly after 
the visitor. "Legs, young man r 

Judge Otis P. Lord of the Su- 
preme Court was not a humorist, 
nor was he a man in whom humor 
prevailed to any great extent, al- 
though he could and did enjoy 
many a witty sally in court, but it 
was his fortune to be on the bench 
when some particularly amusing 
things occurred. It was while he 
was holding the divorce court at 
Cambridge, that a well known attor- 
ney of northern Middlesex was in 
attendance. As the wait was some- 
what prolonged and the attorney 
was of a convivial turn he visited a 
neighboring bar until his condition 
became apparent to every one in 
the room. When at last his case 


was reached he called his witnesses 
and prepared to go on. 

"This case is postponed until to- 
morrow morning," said Judge Lord 
in his severest manner as he glared 
down at the erring attorney. "Your 
honor," said the lawyer, as he 
steadied himself against the rail and 
looked up imploringly at the court, 
"I have waited patiently for my 
turn and now that I am reached I 
insist upon having the case tried." 
"Mr. Blank, you are drunk," was the 
only response he got. "All right," 
was the reply of the lawyer, as he 
still clung to the rail for support 
and kept his eyes on the court, 
"That is the most sensible ruling 
your honor has made this term." 

It was the same attorney who 
walked into the Sheriff's office in 
the old court house at Cambridge, 
ready to proceed with the trial of a 
case in which he appeared as coun- 
sel. At the time a sheriff's officer 
sat in the office alone. The attor- 
ney asked him if he thought there 
would be time to go out and get a 
drink before "That old fool comes 
in, and opens court." Before the 
officer had time to reply Judge Lord 
stepped out of an adjoining room 
and said, "If you hurry up, Mr. 
Blank I will wait for you." 

It was before Judge Lord that 
General Butler and Henry F. Du- 
rant were trying a case in the days 
before the war. There had been 
much verbal sparring between the 
two learned gentlemen and in one 
of their many tilts Butler turned to- 
ward Durant and said, "The one 
act in my professional career which 
I most regret, is that I recom- 
mended you for admission to the 
bar." To which Durant retorted 
with, "And the one thing that has 
surprised me most, is that the court 

should have admitted me upon you 

Once while presiding in the Su 
preme Court in Boston, Judge Lon 
heard a case in which the mother o 
a child was making an effort to ge 
possession of the little one, or a 
least to secure the privilege of see 
ing her. The father and mothe 
had differed. The father in spite 
had placed the child in an institu 
tion, and had instructed the authori 
ties to permit no one to see hei 
The head of the institution was 01 
the stand. As the evidence pre 
ceeded Judge Lord began to squirr 
about in his chair in the way s< 
familiar to those who knew hir 
and it was evident to those in th 
court room that something woul 
be doing presently. At last, unabl 
to stand it any longer, Judge Lor 
turned to the witness and askec 
"By what authority did you refus 
to allow this woman to see he 
child?" "By authority of the fathei 
the legal guardian of the child, 
was the reply. "Yes, yes, but di 
you have any other authority? 
"None was necessary," was th 
bland reply. "I had the authorit 
of the father, the legal guardian c 
the child." 

Judge Lord squared his chai 
around so that he could face th 
witness, and then burst out witl 
"Legal guardian of the child 
Legal guardian of the child! I" 
thank you sir, not to repeat that e> 
pression. I'd have you know si 
that a justice of this court, know 
quite as much of the law of tlii 
case as you do and instruction 
from you will not be needed. I 
doing as you have done sir, yo 
have assumed prerogatives that ar 
not assumed by the Supreme Cour 
which does not undertake to sa 



that a mother shall not see her 
child. If this is the kind of busi- 

— you are engaged in at this in- 
stitution. I think the sooner it is 
sed up the better it will be for 
all concerned." The mother's peti- 
tion was granted and she was given 
leave to see her child whenever she 
w anted to do so. 

It was while Judge Lord was sit- 
ting in the equity session at East 
Cambridge that the list "went to 
pieces" and there was nothing to 
try. Judge Lord was in a rage and 
expressed himself with a good deal 
freedom, saying among other 
things that counsel ought to be 
a-hamed of themselves not to be in 
readiness when their cases were 
reached. It was a waste of valuable 
time for counsel through negligence 
to allow the court to be becalmed 
in that way. He thereupon con- 
tinued every case on the list. Am- 
brose A. Ranney, one of the great 
lawyers of that day, who was in 
the room and considered the re- 
marks as applying in a measure to 
himself since he had a case on the 
li^t that was not ready, rose and 
said that when a ship lay becalmed 
it was not generally considered 
necessary to throw the whole cargo 

It was before Judge Lord sitting 
in Boston, that a lawyer appeared 
and received a stinging rebuke that 
long remembered as one of the 
sharpest things ever said at the bar. 
This lawyer had earned the dislike 
of many of his associates on account 
of hi- porcine qualities. In trying 
se his opponent made a quota- 
t:<<n from some classical authority 
and the obnoxious attorney jumped 
to his feel with "What's that? 
What's that?" "That's Latin." was 
the response. "Latin? It's Tlog 

Latin I guess." "Well Mr. Blank," 
was the reply, "you ought to be a 
judge of Hog Latin.'' 

Ebenezer Rockwood Hoar was 
one of the counsel for the Boston 
and Worcester Railroad Company 
in an accident case, which was tried 
in the Supreme Court before Judge 
Lord. In his closing argument to 
the jury, counsel for the plaintiff in- 
timated that he did not expect a 
verdict for his client, as influences 
had been at work to operate against 
him. Judge Lord stopped the ar- 
gument, sent the jury from the 
room and asked counsel to explain 
the remarkable statement he had 
made. He found considerable diffi- 
culty in getting out of an unpleas- 
ant dilemma. After a halting state- 
ment he said he did not think the 
jury had been approached, to which 
Judge Hoar retorted with, "The 
gentleman apparently thinks that if 
the jury has not been approached, 
it may be reproached." 

It was after Judge Hoar had re- 
tired from the bench and while he 
was in the Supreme Court room one 
day as a practicing attorney that he 
heard a young member of the bar 
arguing a case before the full bench. 
Turning to an acquaintance he 
asked who the young man was. He 
was told his name, the informant 
adding that he was the son of an 
attorney, naming a man who was 
more famed for his affability, than 
for his legal attainments. Upon 
learning of the youth's paternity, 
Judge Hoar remarked, "His mother 
must have a fine legal mind." 

Robert Morris, the first colored 
lawyer to be admitted to practice in 
the courts of Massachusetts, had a 
ready wit and was seldom beaten by 
anyone who attempted to cross 
swords with him. Space does not 



permit a reproduction of many of 
the bright things he said and only 
one story can be given. Unfortu- 
nately that is one in which the 
other fellow had the closing word. 
A Mrs. Robinson had employed a 
colored dressmaker to make a silk 
dress for her, Mrs. Robinson fur- 
nishing the material which she 
had brought from Paris. Subse- 
quently the dressmaker was ar- 
rested for larceny, was discharged, 
and brought suit for malicious 
prosecution. She was represented 
by Morris, while Isaac S. Morse 
appeared for the defence. In the 
course of the trial, in which it 
appeared that the defendant was an 
excellent judge of silk, Morris 
asked the defendant while she was 
on the stand if she saw anyone in 
the court room whom she had pre- 
viously seen at the dressmaker's 

place. She said that she did no 
She could not tell one colored ma: 
or one colored woman from ai 
other. "Do you mean to say 
asked Morris, "that you are an e: 
cellent judge of silk and yet are in 
able to tell one colored man, or or 
colored woman from another: 
"My client," interposed Mors 
"may be a very good judge of sill 


but it don't follow that she is c 
good judge of wool." 

There is no one on the bench 01 
at the bar who enjoys a joke bettei 
than Judge Edgar J. Sherman, oik 
of the oldest judges on the bene! 
of the Superior Court, and he nevei 
misses an opportunity to enliven th( 
dry proceedings of the court roon 
with a flow of humor that is un- 
ceasing and always enjoyable 
While he was presiding in one oj 

\ .' \\ K N G 1- A X D M A Li AX I N E 

the court in this iron cage and with great excite- 
t was called for ment shouted. "Your honor, I wish 
s . preliminaries you would send me to hell!" After 
irv a voting at- quieting the commotion in the court 
uul began to address room Judge Sherman turned to the 
at the outset, the young man and said, "I have no 
hat were generally jurisdiction over the place you have 
ries. As he went named. Possibly you may find the 
marole on what quarters to which I have sent you, 
ndg< Sherman be- much more comfortable." 
isy. and when he got On one occasion, a celebrated 
en. this is an ac- southern judge was in Judge Sher- 
A action of tort is man's court and Judge Sherman, 
pose of— ' the with his usual courtesy, invited him 
sed with his peculiar to be seated beside him on the 
"( mess you better bench, an invitation that was gladly 
i? any more time in telling accepted. In going upon the bench 
torts are. They've the visitor had not caught the name 
dx weeks, and been of his host and, when an opportun- 
ist cases all the time, ity offered, he leaned over and told 
know- pretty well what Judge Sherman that he had failed 
3 time." to catch his name. "My name," 
ment proceeded no said Judge Sherman, "is the same 
that line. as that of a famous relative of mine, 
of vours, 1 read in who made considerable trouble 
ither day," re- down through your section of Geor- 
ssociate of Judge Sher- gia, during the Civil War," and 
-ai talking to- then as his visitor began to show 
good enough," was signs of apprehension, he added, "I 
I ever heard of was not nearly enough related to 
General Sherman to cause any fears 
linal session of the Su- on y° ur P art > however. We were 
[Cast Cambridge, a onl >' distantly connected." 

before fudge As a prisoner was brought before 

offence which, Judge Sherman for sentence the 

nl imprison- clerk happened to be absent from 

question having his post. Judge Sherman asked the 

mental condi- officer in charge of the prisoner 

man appointed med- what the offence was with which 

,-ho reported that he was charged. "Bigotry, your 

am . ] J( . was honor, lie's been married to three 

v'hen 'nl ciice women." "Why officer, that's not 

dierman took bigotry," said the judge, with a 

the opinion of merry twinkle in his eye, "that's 

. f} lf . prisoner trigonometry." 

f; of cor It was at the trial of a case at 

nw-nci .'.,-, an- Dedham thai Judge Sherman heard 

in iIm- the argumenl of a young attorney, 



who contended that it would be bet- 
ter that ten guilty men should 
escape than that one innocent man 
should suffer unjustly. In charging 
the jury, Judge Sherman said that 
however good that policy might be 
in general, in the case in hand it 
seemed to him as though the ten 
guilty men had escaped and the 
time had come to enforce the law in 
regard to the guilty one. 

In November, 1900, a suit for 
damages was being tried in Ded- 
ham before Judge Sherman and a 
jury. Frederick J. Daggett was 
counsel for the plaintiff, and 
Thomas E. Grover of Canton, now 
District Attorney, appeared for the 
defendant. The conclusion of this 
case finished the docket for that 
term. At the close of the evidence 
in the afternoon there was no one 
in the room but Judge Sherman, 
counsel, the regular contingent of 

court officials, and the parties them- 
selves. The case had been on trial 
for two or three days and had run 
along smoothly. When he charged 
the jury in opening Judge Sherman 
said, "Mr. Foreman and Gentlemen 
of the Jury, this has been an inter- 
esting case. On one side we have 
Mr. Daggett and on the other Mr. 
Grover. It can hardly be said that 
either of them are very good look- 
ing men. As to Judge Grover, he is 
an old war horse, and Mr. Daggett 


is like a singed cat 

a good deal bet- 
ter than he looks." He then pro- 
ceeded with the charge upon the 
law, with such reference to facts as 
was necessary to make it clear. At 
the conclusion of the charge, which 
took about half an hour. Judge 
Grover stepped up to the bench and 
told His Honor that counsel oh- 



jected to a part of the charge. 

"What's that?" asked Judge Sher- 
man. "You charged upon the facts, 
your honor." "I do not recall that 
1 did." was the reply. "Where did 
1 charge upon the facts?" "In that 
part oi the charge in which you re- 
ferred to the personal appearance of 
counsel." was the reply of Judge 
G rover with a smile that set the 
audience in a roar, in which Judge 
Sherman was only too willing to 

When Judge Harris was District 
Attorney a case that had been hang- 
ing alonsr for a considerable time 
had been fixed up in some way and 
Harris was trying to explain the de- 
tails of the arrangement to the 
court but was frequently inter- 
rupted. Judge Sherman, who was 
anxious to have the matter disposed 
of, at last becoming impatient, said, 
••Well! What's the trade, Mr. Har- 
ris? What's the trade?" 

To a man who had been acquitted 
in his court, Judge Sherman said, 
"The jury says that you are not 
guilty. I think you are. However, 
you can go, but I would advise you 
not to do it again." 

Judge Sherman's versatility was 
shown in June of the present year, 
when he conversed fluently with a 
deaf mute prisoner who was before 
him on the charge of larceny. When 
the prisoner rose in the dock, to the 
amazement of all in the room, Judge 
Sherman made himself known to 
him in the sign language and con- 
tinued to converse with him for 
e time, the prisoner understand- 
ing the signs perfectly. The pri- 
soner continued to take it all as 
something in the line of a joke, un- 
til Judge Sherman held 11 p two fin- 
gers, when the smile faded from his 
'I Ik- reason became apparent 

when the clerk announced the sen- 
tence as two months in the house 
of correction. 

It is not uncommon for young 
men who are intending to follow the 
law- as a profession, to take a pre- 
liminary course in newspaper work. 
The experiences gained in that field 
are valuable, and several well 
known and prosperous members of 
the bar have been newspaper men. 
One of the brightest young men 
who has successfully filled this dual 
position is Joseph Lundy, who 
seems to have a good chance of se- 
curing the Republican Congres- 
sional nomination in the tenth dis- 
trict. He is an eloquent speaker, 
has an extensive acquaintance, and 
a wit of a dry and snappy kind that 
is always ready and always appre- 

One of his extemporaneous bits 
that was not relished any too well 
by its recipient was thrown at Hon. 
Edward M. Shepard the celebrated 
lawyer and independent statesman 
of New York. It was on the occa- 
sion of a great open air meeting 
while the guests were ascending the 
steps leading to a somewhat rickety 
platform from which the addresses 
were to be delivered. 

"I trust we do not fall off this 
platform," observed Mr. Shepard. 

"Wouldn't it be rather remark- 
able, Mr. Shepard, "quietly asked 
Lundy, "if a platform could be con- 
structed from which you would not 

Mr. Lundy was defending an 
Italian of the name of La Spada 
(the sword) before Judge Lowell 
in the United States court. After a 
stormy trial the prisoner was con- 
ducted to the little iron pen to hear 
an adverse verdict. When the fore- 
man had spoken Lundy turned to 



the assistant United States attor- 
ney John H. Casey and drily re- 
marked, "They have not reversed 
the old saying anyway. The pen is 
still mightier than the sword." 

Nothing could be neater than 
Lundy's reply to a question as to 
what he thought of the course of the 
of the Legislature, in failing to act 
upon the case of a man who had done 
something deemed to be worthy of 
severe discipline, in order to purge 
the body, and free it from contami- 
nation. "Why!" replied Lundy, 
"these men are so much occupied in 
thinking they are members of the 
Great and General Court that they 
have no time to remember they are 

In polishing off an opponent in a 

political discussion Lund}' remarked 
that he was a "very charming fel- 
low with a pronounced blonde 

mind; all very nice for a girl, but 
too light for a man." 

It was while he was speaking of a 
brother lawyer who is noted for the 
high opinion he has of his own abil- 
ity that Lundy said : "I suppose he 
is the greatest lawyer we have had 
since Choate ; he admits it him- 

"Lundy, what do you think of 
Dewey's course?" asked a fellow at- 
torney when Judge Dewey was 
causing a great furore by the few 
convictions he recorded in certain 
classes of offences. "Well," replied 
Lundy, "he certainly has the cour- 
age of his acquittals." 

Summer and Love 

By Clinton Scollard 

Love, we are loath to let the summer go, 
It has so azured all our sweep of sky; — 

By day the lyric rapture and the glow, 
By night the dream, the silent ecstasy; 
Yet must it vanish like the thrush's cry. 

Yestreen we heard the wind among the leaves 
Luting its plaintive minors of regret; 

Yestreen the fields of gathered barley sheaves 
With teary dews from eve's deep eyes were wet ; 

• And cloudily we saw the pale moon set. 

Hand clasped in hand we strayed, while heart to heart 
Breathed love's unspoken language ; to and fro, 

Although our forward paths were not to part, 
Sadness walked with us, why, I do not know ;— 
Love, we are loath to let the summer go ! 

Maggie Verity's Reconversion 

By David Bruce Fitzgerald 

JOSEPH LYNCH, inspired or in- 
sane according to opinion, was 

the dominant religions force on 
Chincoteague Island, a tiny, wind- 
five miles off the Vir- 
ginia coast. Maggie Verity was one 
i : Lynch's converts and, for sun- 
sons, the most important of 
which was that they had been mar- 
is than two years, her hus- 
band. Captain Israel Verity, had 
professedly embraced the same 
faith, though with his slow, practi- 
cal mind it was difficult for him to 
follow Joseph Lynch in his rapid, 
self-announced advancements from 
boat builder to preacher, from 
]. reach er to prophet, from prophet 
to apostle and from apostle to new 
Messiah, incarnated to deliver Chin- 

ague and finally the^ American 
continent, from the power of the 
devil. But, because Maggie be- 
lieved. Captain Verity went to 
Lynch's nightly meetings, shivered 
at the unconsciously blasphemous 
things he saw and heard and held 
his peace; held it until even his su- 
perb quality of reticence was ex- 
hausted. When he did speak it was 
i .Maggie but to Lemuel Spen- 
cer that he unbosomed himself; and 
Lemuel was a mos1 notorious scof- 
fer at Joseph Lynch and all his su- 
pernatural pretensions. 

The two mel one autumn morn- 
ing on the sandy cast shore of the 
island. Captain Verity was walk- 
ing and thinking. Spencer, with a 
shotgun over his shoulder, was 


looking for beach birds. Under the 
lee of a dune they sat down to talk ; 
and on Chincoteague at that time, 
there w r as one subject of conversa- 
tion which took admitted prece- 

"I hear there were strange goin's 
on at your meetin' house last night," 
Lemuel Spencer observed, laying 
his shotgun across his knees. 
''Down my way, they tell that 
Lynch set apart twenty-four apos- 
tles, directin' them to go over to 
the main and convert the perishin' 

"That's w'at he did," replied the 
Captain, sententiously. 

"Seems to me that were an un- 
scriptooral number," Lemuel re- 
marked, gazing at a bunch of gray- 
backs alighting out of range. "The 
Bible only makes mention of 

"So it does ; but Lynch said that 
the angel which stands constant at 
his right shoulder had told him to 
double up on the number, seein' that 
the world wuz so much bigger and 
wickeder now. Likewise, he said 
the angel had whispered to him that 
from now on the women were to 
have an ekal part with the men in 
diffusin' the truth." 

"Hold on, Captain," said Spencer, 
deeply interested; "you ain't told 
me the names of them twenty- 
four apostles yet. Are you one of 

"No. I weren't set apart." 

Lemuel lifted a handful of sand 



and allowed it to trickle slowly 
through his fingers. 

"Wuz Mrs. Verity?" he asked. 

"Yes. Maggie wuz of the num- 

The Captain's effort to speak 
carelessly was a plain failure and a 
gleam of humorous intelligence 
crossed the face of his interlocutor. 

"It will likely be somewhat lone- 
some for you whilest your wife's 
away," Lemuel remarked. "But 
heave ahead and tell me what wuz 
further done at the meetin'." 

"I wisht you had been there, 
Lem," said the Captain, conscious 
of his inadequate descriptive pow- 
ers. "The shoutin', groanin' and 
carryin' out of women w'at had 
fainted beat all creation. But arter 
all the comin' true of them dreams 
wuz the curusest part of it." 

"I ain't heard you say nothin' 
about dreams," Spencer interrupted, 
quickly and inquiringly. 

"Well, I'm comin' to 'em, Lem ; 
and I reckon when you hear about 
'em you'll be ez hard and fast 
aground ez I am. You see it wuz 
really night afore last that Lynch 
first set apart them apostles and di- 
rected 'em to go over on the main 
and preach the truth in the streets 
of Tyre and Sidon and other places 
what had the curse restin' on 'em ; 
meanin', of course, Franklin City 
and Stockton and Snow Hill and 
Pocomoke. They wuz to go two 
and two and Lynch said he would 
go with 'em on this first trip to en- 
courage 'em, leaVm' things here to 
be looked after by Brother Piper, 
the extry apostle. Likewise he said 
he wuzn't goin' to p'int out who 
wuz to go with who, that bein' 
somethin' that would be revealed to 
'em in dreams that night ; and these 
dreams they wuz, accordin' to his 
orders, to keep to themselves until 

the elect wuz gathered together 
agin the next evenin', the which wuz 
last evenin,' when each of 'cm wuz 
to arise and say who he had dremp 
about. Now the cur'ous tiling, 
Lem, the thing that sets all my 
sails back and flappin,' is that at 
the meetin' last night every one of 
them apostles rose up and said he 
had dremp or she had dremp, ac- 
cordin' ez Lynch had told 'em they 

"They wuz lyin', of course," ob- 
served Spencer, who was perfectly 
aware the allegiance which Captain 
Verity professed to Joseph Lynch 
had no heart in it. 

"Well, I don't know about that, 
Lem. I reckon some of 'em wuz 
and some of 'em wuzn't. Now I 
would be willin' to take my oath 
that Maggie — " 

"To be shore. To be shore," 
Lemuel hastily interrupted, anxious 
to correct the blunder he had made. 
"It had passed from my mind that 
she wuz one of 'em. Who did Mrs. 
Verity dream she was to fellowship 
with on this preachin' trip?" 

This innocent and natural ques- 
tion intensified certain symptoms 
of embarrassments and uneasiness 
which Spencer had previously noted 
in the man with whom he w T as talk- 
ing. The Catpain fumbled nervous- 
ly in his pockets ; he wriggled on 
the sand; his gaze shifted from 
point to point of the horizon. Then, 
by a quick transition, his twitching 
lips set themselves in a straight 
line, his heavy face became granitic 
and a dangerous light sprang to his 
gray eyes. 

"Lem," he whispered, hoarsely, 
grasping the other's arm with a 
hand which seemed made of iron, 
"Maggie dremp she wuz to go with 
Joe Lynch, and Joe Lynch dremp 
he wuz to go with her." 


Lemuel Spencer neither turned 
nor winced but. when the Captain's 
crip relaxed, he thoughtfully lifted 
the gun from his knees and handed 
it to his companion. 

•'It's loaded with number two 
shot.'" he remarked, with unmistak- 
able significance. 

•'Thank'e. Lem ; it's very friendly 
of you," said the Captain, heartily; 
"but 1 don't need your gun, seem' 
ez 1 have one of my own. Like- 
wise. 1 know that things has come 
to such a pass there ain't a jury in 
the county ez wouldn't rise up in 
the box and thank me for lettin' 
daylight through Joe Lynch. It 
ain't that I'm afeard for myself. 
What I walked out here this 
mornin' to sorter turn over in my 
mind is that if a gun sh'u'd happen 
to go off in the way we've been 
talkin' about the kick of it would 
like ez not smash Maggie's good 
name to splinters; and a woman's 
good name a man are bound to 
think of, 'specially if that woman 
arc Ids wife." 

"Then — you don't think — Isrul?" 

Spencer hesitatingly asked, covering 

his embarrassment by drawing cir- 

m the sand with a burnt match. 

"No; I don't think it!'' said Cap- 
tain Verity, with suppressed vehe- 
mence "Maggie's mind has been 
so swung round by Joe Lynch's 
preachin' that it arc p'intin' in a 
mi-direction; but she ain't bad. Jt 
would be all righl for Maggie to 
down in the same room with 
Mary and Martha and Dorcas and 
all them good women the Bible tells 
about. She are ez certain she has 
order- straighl from Heaven to go 
out and fall perishin' sinners to 
turn ez I'm certain we're sittin' 
here on this beach. You see, Lem, 
von'-, e gol to recollec' thai she don't 
look at it the same ex we do. When 

I sort of hinted to her, goin' home 
from the meetin' last night, that 
mebby it wouldn't be takin' ezzack- 
ly the right care of herself to go 
traipsin' round the country with 
Joe Lynch, it bein' likely to make 
talk on Chincoteague, she looked up 
at me and said : 'But, Isrul, that 
will only be the fulfillin' of the 
scripture, Blessed are ye when all 
men shall revile you and persecute 
you and say all manner of evil agin 
you falsely ; and, Isrul, if I git that 
blessin' what does it matter what 
they say in Chincoteague, 'specially 
seein' that afore many days the 
scoffers are goin' to have somethin' 
else to fill their mouths aside from 
railin' and guile about them ez is 
spiritooally anxious?' And, arter 
that, knowin' that there weren't no 
reasonin' with her, I didn't say no 

"When do they project startin' 
on this precious preachin' trip?" 
Spencer asked. 

"They calculate to get off an 
hour afore moonrise tonight, takin' 
boats and crossin', some to Red 
Hills, some to Franklin, some to 
George's Island landin' and some 
to other places up and down the 
shore. They're arrangin' to set sail 
very quiet like, so there won't be no 
throngs of the unbelievin' standin' 
round to throw stale fish and oyster 
shells at 'em ez they put off." 

"Is Lynch goin' to use his own 

"No ; he and Maggie are goin' to 
take the Midge." 

The Captain gulped. The Midge 
was a trim, twenty-four foot sloop, 
which he had given to his wife as a 
wedding present. 

"I s'pose the Midge is lyin' at 
your own pier, ez usual?" 


These questions, which were 



prompted solely by Lemuel Spen- 
cer's desire and determination to be 
found in the immediate vicinity of 
an expected tragedy, seemed to 
have the effect of suggesting some 
remote possibility to his mind. His 
mood become meditative and ab- 
stracted. Finally he careened slow- 
ly backward until he lay prone on 
the sand; then he drew his slouch 
hat over his face. 

"Don't move, Isrul," he said. 
"I'm only experimentin' whether I 
can see daylight through the crown 
of this here hat." After a long in- 
spection of the hat's interior he 
added : "I think I can." 

"Isrul," he said, resuming a sit- 
ting posture, "most things in this 
perishin' world are mighty like this 
old hat of mine ; you can see day- 
light through 'em if you only look 
careful. Now I ain't denyin' that 
things look all dark afore you at 
this present moment but mebby 
that's because you ain't turned your 
eyes in the right direction." 

The Captain did not seem to find 
this enigmatical utterance peculiar- 
ly illuminating. 

"What I wuz about to purpose, 
Isrul, is that Lem Spencer sh'ud 
take Joe Lynch's place on this here 
preachin' tower." 

Still Captain Verity only stared. 

"I reckon it won't be so hard, if 
things work right," continued Spen- 
cer, meditatively. "Everybody sez 
I favor Lynch ; and I guess you 
know I kin talk like him." 

Both observations were true. 
There was a rather remarkable 
physical and facial resemblance be- 
tween the notorious scoffer and the 
religious fanatic. Both were tall 
and gaunt, with black hair, deeply 
set eyes and enormous mouths. 
Lemuel Spencer also possessed an 
inimitable talent for mimicry which 

had made him famous and feared 
on Chincoteague. In the parlance 
of the island, he could "take off any- 
body"; and when occasion arose he 
did not hesitate to exercise the gift 
with which nature had endowed 
him. Captain Verity understood 
Lem's allusion to his own ability to 
talk like Joseph Lynch. He remem- 
bered that, only a week before on 
the steamboat dock, Spencer had re- 
preached one of Lynch's sermons to 
an unregenerate but appreciative 
audience; one member of which, in 
a paroxysm of joy, had rolled back- 
ward from the wharf into the 
water; and that same evening, from 
the pulpit, Lynch had denounced 
this sacrilegious effort as eternally 
disastrous to the welfare of more 
than forty human souls. 

"Now, Isrul," Lemuel continued, 
slowly working out the details of 
his plan, "moonrise will be a little 
after midnight, which means that 
them apostles purpose to set sail 
about eleven. You take that watch 
of yourn and set it for'ard an hour ; 
and, when the hands point to 
eleven, show it to your w r ife and 
tell her it's time to go ; likewise re- 
markin' that you'll walk down to 
the pier and see her off. If you 
sh'ud happen to run foul of Joe 
Lynch on the way, the which I don't 
think you will, seein' it's so early, 
my friendly advice is to leave him 
where you find him and take your 
chances on squarin' things with the 
jury. When you git to the wharf 
you'll find the Midge lyin' along- 
side, with sail set and Joe Lynch 
sittin' in the stern grippin' the tiller. 
You needn't go out of your way to 
speak to him. All you've got to do 
is to put Mrs. Verity aboard, well 
for'ard, and give the boat a shove." 

"I reckon I ketch your idea, 
Lem," said the Captain, removing 



his hat and passing his hand over 
his bristling- hair. "Yon mean that 
)oe Lynch sittin' there aft in 
the Midge will be yon." 

"You've got it, Isrnl; and in be- 
token that it's me I'll make a sign 
like this, when your wife ain't 
lookin'." The speaker lifted his 
right hand and made a peculiar 
lire. "I'm purposin' to run the 
Midge, with Mrs. Verity aboard, 
out in the bay and to keep her there 
'till them other apostles are gone." 

An approving light dawned in the 
Captain's eyes and rapidly . over- 
spread his countenance. For a 
minute, contemplating the idea, his 
enthusiasm rose ; then he suddenly 
collapsed as if he had received an 
unexpected blow in the ribs. 

"It won't do no good, Lem," he 
said, hopelessly. "If they fail goin' 
this evenin' they'll go sure tomor- 
row evenin'." 

"That's where you're out of 
soundin's," replied Spencer, confi- 
dently. "Arter you push the Midge 
off, Isrul, you saunter up to the 
house and stay there but don't go 
to sleep ; the which advice is likely 
a waste of breath. About two 
o'clock, or p'r'aps half past, your 
wife will come flyin' in at the door 
and throw her arms around your 
neck; and when she does that, Isrul, 
she'll be converted. She may let 
out a screech or two but they'll be 
eches of religious joy at bein' 
with her husband and findin' her- 
self under his purtectin' wing; and 
thenceforth she'll be so dead, agin 
Joe Lynch and all his devilment 
that she'll never want to see him or 
hear of him ez long ex the breakers 
come in on this beach." 

This vision was so much to the 
Captain's taste that, without inquir- 
ing particularly how this transfor- 
mation was to be effected, he ex- 

tended his hand and seized Spen- 
cer's in a hearty grasp ; a ceremony 
which, on Chincoteague, was under- 
stood to seal a contract. 

"Well, I must be movin'," said 
Lemuel, scrambling to his feet. 
"Give my respec's to Mrs. Verity. 
There's only one other thing, Isrul. 
Whatsoever your wife tells you Joe 
Lynch said tonight, keep it clear 
before you that it wuz Joe Lynch 
and not Lem Spencer." 

As Spencer went trampling down 
the beach he assured himself that 
the fantastic plan he had suggested 
to Captain Verity was not alto- 
gether impracticable. He was aware 
that the likeness between himself 
and Lynch was a superficial one 
but he also knew that some atten- 
tion to details and the emphasizing 
of certain features would make 
the resemblance striking. What 
troubled him most was the fact 
that the man whom he proposed to 
impersonate was originally a main- 
lander, from Delaware, and his 
speech was not quite that of Chin- 
coteague. Spencer was perhaps the 
only person on the island who had 
noted that Lynch rounded out his 
words ; but he took for granted that 
it was obvious to others as well and 
he assured himself that great care 
would be necessary to avoid verbal 
mistakes. Against the chances of 
detection Lemuel weighed himself 
and Mrs. Verity and circumstances. 
He was keenly conscious of his own 
peculiar talent for mimicry. The 
farce was to be played to an audi- 
ence of one ; and she a distracted, 
self-centered woman, to whom trif- 
ling incongruities would not forci- 
bly appeal. Also, the scene would 
be laid in darkness, at worst in 
moonlight. Spencer carefully con- 
sidered all these things and decided 
in favor of success. Captain Verity, 



picking his way across the marsh in 
the direction of his home, thought 
of nothing save the admitted fact 
that Lem could take off anybody. 
His faith rested on this as on a rock. 

That night, sharply at eleven 
o'clock, as indicated on the face of 
an untruthful chronometer, which 
had never previously varied more 
than five seconds, two figures stood 
on the outer end of the little pier 
which Captain Verity had built for 
his private use and which was half 
a mile distant from any other land- 
ing. The Midge lay close alongside 
with sails set and flying to leeward 
and it was possible to make out the 
presence of a man aboard. Mrs. 
Verity saw him vaguely. The Cap- 
tain, who had better night eyes, 
saw him clearly; and such a tremor 
of suspicion seized him that it 
shook his right hand into his coat 
pocket where his fingers closed on 
the butt of a revolver. He would 
have sworn it was Joe Lynch in one 
of his characteristic attitudes, but 
presently, as his wife raised her 
white, strained face for a kiss, Cap- 
tain Verity, looking over her shoul- 
der, saw the reassuring gesture for 
which Spencer had told him to 

" expectin' you back in two 
weeks prompt, Maggie," said the 
Captain, awkwardly arranging a 
heavy shawl about his wife's shoul- 

"Certain, Isrul," she replied, her 
voice pitched in the high, intense, 
sing-song tone of the religious en- 
thusiast. "I grieve to be a leavin* 
you this way, Isrul, but, though 
I'm a wife and know my duty ez 
such, I have got to obey the voice 
of the Lord ez it has come to me in 
signs and tokens and command- 
ments ; the which if I disregarded 
the weepin' and wailin' and gnashin' 

of teeth would undoubted be my 
eternal portion, set-in' ez I were an 
unprofitable servant. What saitli 
the prophet — ?" 

"You must keep well wropped up 
goin' across," interrupted her hus- 
band, not particularly caring tc 
have his memory refreshed on the 
subject of prophetic utterances. "It's 
a right fresh breeze but if you cud- 
dle down the wind won't strike 

The Captain, proffering othei 
advice, helped her aboard, placing 
her according to instruction wel 

"Now, Brother Verity, cast off!' 
The man in the stern of the boal 
spoke for the first time and hie 
voice was the low, almost plaintive 
drawl of Joe Lynch, unexcited 
"The business of the king demand 
eth haste. Who knoweth when the 
trumpet of the first angel shal 
sound? Perhaps ere we reach yon- 
der shore, the light of which comes 
to us across this portion of the grea: 
deep, those who are now rioting anc 
feasting and making merry anc 
marrying and giving in marriage 
there shall fall into the gulf and tht 
flames of hell leap up and seize 
upon them. Be vigilant and power- 
ful in prayer, Brother Verity. Lei 
your lamp be trimmed and burn 

The Captain heard the last words 
of this pious exhortation hurled ai 
him across a widening, watery in- 
terval between the sloop and the 
wharf. He stood and watched the 
little boat for a long time; noting 
when she cleared the channel anc 
when her bow came round anc 
pointed toward the Franklin lights 
Then it suddenly occurred to hiir 
that Lynch, the real Joe Lynch 
would probably be along presently 
and that it might not be expedien! 



to meet him until Lemuel Spencer's 
experiment had been given a chance 
to work itself out; so the Captain 
hastily quitted the pier and hurried 
back to the house. It was possible. 
he thought, that Lynch, after dis- 
covering that Maggie was not on 
the wharf and that the Midge was 
gone, would follow him ; and he re- 
gretted that Spencer had not indi- 
cated the course of action which 
should be taken in such a contin- 
gency. However, it was a point, 
which the Captain was never 
obliged to definitely decide. 

Aboard the Midge everything 
was shipshape and silent and it 
seemed that the silence would last 
interminably. Lynch was notorious- 
ly a meditative man, who some- 
times failed to reply when ad- 
dressed. Maggie, with her face to 
the bow, gazed steadfastly out at 
the shadow of the land whither 
they were bound. The sloop, with 
close drawn sails, was beating to 
the west in the teeth of a fresh 
northerly breeze. With immense 
satisfaction, the steersman noted 
that the waves were topped with 
white. Wind and water are dis- 
tracting things. 

Suddenly, by accident as it 
seemed, the sloop fell off a few 
points and recovered just in time 
to catch a coming wave awkward- 
ly; the top of it, neatly sliced off 
by the gunwale, dashing over Mag- 
gie in a shower of spray. She 
screamed lightly, more from shock 
than fear, and prepared to retreat 
to the stern of the boat. 

"Stay where you are, Apostle 
Verity!" -aid the voice of Joseph 
Lynch in authoritative mood. "What 
did the Apostle Paul say?" 'Thrice 
was f shipwrecked ;' and yet you 
screech and jump when a dash of 
-pray comes aboard. Stay where 

you are and show me that you have 
in you." 

Spencer chuckled to himself. He 
w r as rounding out his words beauti- 
fully, even sonorously ; and this was 
the point on which he had rather 
expected to fail. 

Then, as Maggie settled resigned- 
ly back in her place, the man at the 
helm inexorably drove the bow of 
the Midge into the side of every 
sixth wave and devoutly wished it 
were possible to repeat the perform- 
ance with greater frequency. He 
hated to do it ; but his stronger feel- 
ing was that, before the moon rose, 
Mrs. Verity must be made so un- 
comfortable that she would not be 
likely to bring fine powers of dis- 
crimination to assist a possible sus- 
picion of his identity ; so the tiny 
sloop rolled and plunged and zig- 
zagged and shipped water in a way 
which would have filled Chinco- 
teague with disgust, had Chinco- 
teague been there to witness it. 

When the Franklin lights were 
only half a mile ahead the Midge 
came round on the eastward tack. 
Lemuel designed to hold her there 
until the moon appeared; when he 
would take the long westward 
reach toward George's Island, thus 
putting the light behind him for the 
first hour at least. 

Spencer thought it best to let the 
intervening time drag in silently. 
Talking could do no good and every 
minute gained was so much to his 
purpose. He had invoked darkness 
and wind and wave to help him and 
he wished these allies to do their 
full work before he began. It was 
to a shivering, frightened, homesick 
woman that he desired to address 
his subsequent remarks. So the 
Midge went dashing on and even 
began to ride more easily; for Mag- 
gie, disdaining to move was on the 



windward side and Lemuel had not 
the heart to absolutely deluge her. 

At last, a diffused glow apeared 
in the east. Presently a short sec- 
tion of the horizon line became the 
chord of a red arc. The moon was 
being lifted out of the sea. 

"It's now, my lady apostle, that 
Joey Lynch is goin' to show his 
horns and hoofs/' muttered Lemuel 
to himself. He put the rudder hard 
down, and the Midge, shaking her 
sails, came round. The moon was 
Lehind him : that was for safety. 
George's Island was nine miles 
ahead; that gave him time. Spen- 
cer collected his faculties and re- 
called the fact that it was essential 
to round out his words. 

The showing up of Joe Lynch be- 
gan in a smothered laugh, proceed- 
ing from the stern of the boat. It 
w r as distinctly Lynch's laugh, even 
to a peculiar catching of the breath ; 
"but it carried an indescribable sug- 
gestion of slyness and subtlety 
which chilled the soul of the solitary 
listener as the salt spray had al- 
ready chilled her body. The "Ha! 
Ha! Ha!" was repeated over and 
over again and each time the note 
of deviltry in it became more ap- 

"O, the fool ! . The infernal, lub- 
berly fool !" It was Lynch talking 
to himself, as though unconscious 
of a hearer. "O, it was good to see 
liim standing there on the wharf, 
bidding a loving good by to the 
Apostle Verity, going away on a 
two weeks preaching trip. Ha ! Ha ! 
Ha! I will be expecting you back in 
two weeks, Maggie! Ha! Ha! Ha! 
His dear wife setting sail with an- 
other man, at eleven o'clock of a 
dark night, bound he didn't know- 
where, and he down on the pier to 
see them off and wish them a safe 
return. He will be looking for us 

back in two weeks! Well, I reckon ! 
Ha! Ha! Ha! O, the fool!" 

Two widely distended, frightened 
eyes were fixed on him in the 
growing light; and Spencer, forget- 
ting that his was the face in 
shadow, drew his hat low, hung his 
head and was silent. 

"Where are we goin', Brother 

There was something in Maggie's 
voice which, under other circum- 
stances, would have smitten Lemuel 
pitifully and gone near unmanning 
him for his work; but now his 
heart was like that of Pharaoh. 

"Where are we going?" Lynch's 
accent became mildly scornful. 
"Well, that is a strange question 
for you to be asking, seeing that 
we are not going but gone. But I 
reckon I might as well speak right 
out, feeling that you won't mis- 
understand me ; so I tell you that we 
are going to leave that blasted 
island, full of fool women and con- 
fiding husbands, far behind us. We 
are going to the mainland ; w r e are 
going west; we are going to travel 
on until we come to the ocean on 
the other side ; we are going to 
places where they never heard tell 
of Chincoteague and where they 
would not hardly believe there is 
such a place. You need not worry 
about the money. I've got all the 
way to three thousand dollars, 
kindly contributed by those long 
eared followers of mine ; and that 
will take us any place you want to 


"But ain't we goin' out preachin' 
the truth to perishin' sinners, 
Brother Lynch?" 

With a grimace Lemuel recog- 
nized the fact that the Apostle Ver- 
ity's faith died hard. Therefore, 
when he spoke, there was familiar- 
ity and insolence in every word. 



"Preaching the truth! To perish- 
ing sinners! Well now. Maggie, I 
am free to say that the preaching of 
the truth by a man that is now 
rig away with another man's 
wife, or by the woman that is sail- 
ing away with him, ain't likely to 
encourage perishing sinners to flee 
from the wrath and the burning. 
there are lots of other ways we 
can make a living beside preaching 
the truth ; though, to be sure, we 
can always fall back on that. The 
easiest way to get money out of 
tools is to scare it out." 

At last. Maggie Verity was dis- 
illusioned. Her faith in Joseph 
Lynch was gone ; but her faith in 
the Almighty remained. Falling on 
her knees in the bottom of the boat, 
with her head and arms resting on a 
thwart. Maggie prayed, audibly, 
chokingly, with the wild fervor of 
terror and ghastly revelation, that 
the Lord would deliver her out of 
the snare of the fowler and the jaws 
of the lion ; that he would also over- 
throw the whited sepulchre and 
smite the wolf under the sheep's 

It appeared that Maggie was one 
of those who find real strength in 
prayer. When she had finished, she 
faced her companion with compos- 
ure. He expected a burst of inco- 
en1 imploration; he received an 
authoritative command. 

"Now, Joseph Lynch," Maggige 

said, "seem' ez I own this boat, 

turn her round and head her 

■lit for Chincoteague." 

'Suppose I don'1 do it; what 

snarled the voice of Lynch, 

■ d. 

"1 hen, at the first landin' we 

e, ['11 scream oul and have you 

ted. I'll tell the people that 

there how you're tryin' to make 

with money thai don't all of if 

belong to you. Just you don't 
bring this boat round and you'll see 
what I'll do." 

To the real Joseph Lynch these 
threats would without any doubt 
have seemed inconsequential ; but 
his impersonator chose to regard 
them as sufficiently terrifying. 

"Why, Maggie, what has come 
over you?" he said, in the soothing 
tone which Lynch used to allay ex- 
citement, when tranquility was more 
to his purpose.' "Didn't you dream 
about going away with me? Didn't 
you, this very evening, come down 
to the landing of your own free will 
and sit down where you're siting 
now and never murmur or repine at 
leaving that lubberly husband of 
yours, nor so much as look back at 
him? And now to have you act this 
way is strange. To run away with 
a man and then, before you have 
been hardly two hours gone, to 
want to go back to the chuckle 
head you've left is silly. I thought, 
you had more sense than most. 
You'd better think about it a while 
before you make up your mind to 
go back. Remember that it's Joe 
Lynch and the big world on one 
side and nothing but Israel Verity 
and Chincoteague on the other." 

Maggie answered not a word but 
made a hasty movement, as though 
she were about to come aft and take 
the tiller from the steersman's 
hand and, Lemuel, who had secret 
cause to dread such a contingency, 
quickly jibbed the sloop, compelling 
Maggie to dodge the swinging 
boom and thus forcing her back in 
her place. But Maggie's end was 
gained. The Midge, before the 
wind, was flying in the direction of 
Chincoteague and Spencer was sure 
that the thoughts of the woman for- 
ward were far outrunning the boat. 
It may have been nothing more 


than the repeated movements of 
drawing- her shawl more closely 
about her, but it seemed to Lemuel 
that she extended her arms long- 
ingly toward the land to which they 
were returning. 

Then Spencer played a last card. 
It was probably unnecessary; but 
he had promised Captain Verity to 
bring his wife back cured and he 
meant' to keep his word. Joe 
Lynch's voice was heard mumbling. 
Presently it became articulate in au- 
dible oaths, so wierd and strange 
and blood curdling that they could 
have proceeded only from one who 
had sold himself to the devil. In real- 
ity, Lemuel had obtained them from 
a story of piratical adventures, with 
which he was familiar, and which, 
being almost the only example 
known to him, he regarded as one 
of the monuments of literature. 
His genius shone in the way he 
adapted them to the requirements of 
the situation. He cursed Chinco- 
teague in imprecations which a ma- 
rooned sailor had addressed to the 
deserted, south sea island on which 
he was left. He cursed Captain 
Israel Verity in almost the precise 
words a buccaneer had employed to 
delineate the character of a rival 
swashbuckler. He cursed the Midge, 
from peak to keel, in epithets re- 
markably like those an injured 
father had hurled at a piratical 
schooner which was carrying his 
only daughter into the distance. It 
was really an artistic feat of literary 
adaptation and, when his stock of 
expletives was exhausted, Spencer, 
with a deep sense of relief, felt that 
his work was done. It was merely 
recreation for him to punctuate the 
short remained of the voyage with 
snarls and growls,, strikingly sug- 
gestive of a dog deprived of his din- 
ner — and watching it. 

Finally the Midge grated againsl 
the side of the little pier. Maggie 
had arisen and was standing by the 
mast and the moment the gunwah 
touched the planking she was off 
-Lemuel saw a shadow entering th< 

At ten minutes after two, actua 
time, Captain Verity lookecl uj 
from an inspection of his watel 
and saw his wife standing in th< 

"I have come back to you, Isrul,' 
she said, timidly. 

In attempting to picture this 
homecoming Lemuel had been sev 
eral points away from bearings 
Maggie's fingers were tightly inter 
locked, her head was bowed anc 
she waited humbly, as though ex 
pecting permission before she en 
tered. There were no screeches o 
joy and no tumultuous embraces 
The Captain simply drew Maggie 
in and closed the door. 

Just after breakfast the nex 
morning, Captain Verity turned t( 
his wife and said : "I see Joe LyncI 
comin' along the road." 

"Is that so?" she replied, eagerly 
"Then, Isrul, you stay right when 
you are, and let me know when he's 
half way up the walk." 

Maggie flew to the rear of th< 
house, slipped the chain on a large 
vicious looking dog and led the ani 
mal into the hall, where she stooc 
holding him and waiting. 

"He's half way up the walk now/ 
the Captain presently remarked. 

Maggie threw the front dooi 
wide open, loosed her hold on th< 
dog's collar and said: "Take him 
Tige !" 

Later in the day, Captain Verit} 
recounted this incident to Lemue 
Spencer, and assured him that there 
was no possible doubt of Maggie's 

A Vegetarian Adventure 

By Belle Maniates 

117 [RKYER Dr. Stanley his tent by way of the woods in- 

\^\ •, went his profes- stead of by water. Suddenly he 

uirsued him and he came upon a little clearing sur- 

? ipe his normal condi- rounding a rustic cabin on the 

ribing. ft he went to porch of which, in a reclining chair, 

i snatch a fortnight's was a man, wan and weary-looking. 

me was sure to know His clothes of city cut hung loosely 

ihysician at the hotel upon an emaciated form. The 

isl perforce go at mid- over brightness of his eyes and the 

ster unto the sick in two little hectic spots enlightened 

ttage, "i- he called a Dorrance, and his ruling passion as- 

[f he sought the serted itself. He paused and scru- 

he was called upon to tinized the man while addressing 

nes of fi m ilhardy climbers. him. 

mer he had been deter- "I thought I was the only inhabi- 

ide attendance upon the taut of these woods, but you look 

flesh is heir to and more domesticated than I in my 

tion incognito. So as single tent." 

Mr. Dorrance, sans medicine "I came here by the advice of 

his tent, Arablike, friends," replied the man, "seeking 

iself to the banks of a to regain my health in this pine- 

rlland stream filled laden atmosphere." 

With Ins tent "That was a wise idea," said the 

and hi- bark on the doctor, "but I am here merely for 

imbed by sighl of lance recreation and sport, as you see," 

drugs, he abandoned pointing to his string of fish. 

the keen zesl of an un- "That's a fine lot," said the man, 

II: meals he oh- eyeing them wistfully. "I suppose 

diouse only a shorl you will cook them when you 

i where he was camp reach your tent." 

"No," laughed Dorrance. "It was 

i . ne little part oi my plan to perform no labor 

dcrly mass of while here. I take my meals at a 

(itched water farmhouse and they will fry the 

the doctor, fish for me; but permit me to leave 

He found you enough for your supper." 

promise one "No, no!" protested the man hur- 

afternoon, with a riedly. "I am not permitted to eat 

moulder, his flesh, fish or fowl. It wasn't in- 

h< returned to tended, yon know, that we should. 




Only grains and nuts, the primeval 
foods, were intended for man — " 

"Humph !" declared the doctor 
critically surveying the man. Then 
he asked abruptly and sharply : 

"Aren't you hungry?" 

"Why, yes !" admitted the other 
reluctantly, "but then," he continued 
quickly. "I know there's really no 
such thing as hunger. It's only an 
unnatural craving for the grosser 
foods — " 

The doctor opened his lunch bas- 
ket. His landlady had been liberal 
in her supply and there still re- 
mainded a chicken sandwich. He 
held it temptingly and invitingly 
forth. It fascinated the longing eyes 
and throat of the half-famished in- 
valid. Eve-like, he took it, bit into it 
and then at it, tearing ferociously at 
the delicate bits of the seasoned 

Dorrance watched this devouring 
with satisfaction. 

"Sorry I haven't another for you ! 
Do you want a ramrod?" he asked 
quizzically, noting the effect of the 
man's rapidity in swallowing the 
sandwich. "Here, take this corpu- 
lent pickle." 

"I was trying to finish it before 
my daughter arrives," apologized 
the man. "Here she comes, now !'" 

The doctor looked up and beheld 
a very beautiful young woman ap- 

"My name is Dorrance," he said 
quickly to the man. 

"Mine is Stuart. Don't tell about 
the sandwich." 

"How do you feel, papa?" asked 
the young woman, coming up to 

"Better than I have in a long 
while," said the man emphatically. 
"Linley, this is Mr. Dorrance , a 
neighbor of ours sojourning in these 

"I am glad to find 1 have neigh- 
bors, Miss Stuart, but I am sorry 
your father is in such poor health." 

"He will be well soon," said Miss 
Stuart quickly. "The pure, bracing 
air of these woods — " 

"Man cannot live on air alone, 
Miss Stuart, and I think a beef- 
steak would brace him more than 
all the ozone." 

She looked at him with a pitying 
smile and spoke in condescending 

"We do not live as the cannibals. 
We eat only the food of nature — 
the cereals and nuts that contain 
all the life-giving elements — the 
brain building properties. My father, 
in the fierce struggle for business 
success, became brain-weary. These 
simple foods, nutritious and sus- 
taining, will restore him to health." 

"Have you stock in a pure food 
factory?" asked the doctor bluntly. 

The girl flushed angrily. 

"We are Mythesians," she re- 
plied coldly. 

"Your father," said Dorrance 
wrathfully, "appears to my prac- 
tised eye to be suffering from no 
organic or nerve trouble now, but 
he will soon acquire stomach dis- 
order if he doesn't die of starvation 
in the interim." 

"Oh, are you a doctor?" asked the 
girl interestedly, while her father's 
eyes lighted hopefully. 

Dorrance heard himself speak 
with vexation. Here he had gone 
and betrayed his carefully guarded 
secret ! What did he care if this 
deluded man did starve? There 
would be one less crank in the 

"I am glad to know there is a 
doctor near us," continued the girl, 
"in case anything should happen — " 

"A doctor," quoth Dorrance grim- 
ly, "is like an umbrella. Superflu- 



ous in fair weather but welcomed 
in a storm. 1 will bid you good 

He looked at the daughter as he 
spoke, but she was regarding her 
father whose gaze was fastened 
hungrily upon the doctor's lunch 
:et. Dorrance could not resist 
the unspoken appeal, 

"I see you have a horse and phae- 
ton." glancing at the shed beyond, 
"will you not drive down to see me? 
There is a road through the woods." 

"Yes." replied, the girl slowly, 
"he will like to come. I am going 
to drive to the village tomorrow 
and we can come your way. My 
father gets lonely here." 

"'I am two miles up stream, this 
side of the river," replied Dorrance. 
"You can leave your father with 
me while you drive to the village." 

"That will be a good plan," said 
Stuart eagerly. "We will come 
about eleven o'clock." 

Early the next morning Dorrance 
made a trip to the village and 
visited a butcher shop. When he 
returned he laid covers for two on 
a little table within his tent. While 
engaged in this occupation he heard 
the rattle of wheels and went to 
bid his guest welcome. 

"You must be careful and not 
overdo, father," cautioned the girl 
anxiously as she drove on. "I will 
be back in two hours." 

soon as she vanished from 
sight in the woodland road Dor- 
rance began the broiling of a steak 
over the coals where some potatoes 
already buried. 

"The family where I board have 
gone to a funeral," he explained, 
"and I am preparing an impromptu 
dinner at which I want you to join 

"Oh, 1 mustn't!" protested the 
newcomer faintly. 

Then he sniffed the savory air 

"I've simly been ravenous for 
meat since I had that taste of 
chicken," he vouchsafed. 

"It'll do you good. Try a square 
meal and see what it will do for 
you," prescribed the doctor, putting 
the coffee to boil. 

This last odor was too much for 
the starved Stuart. 

"All right ! I haven't smelled 
coffee before in months.. We have 
a drink made from a grain. Coffee 
is a nerve-destroying habit." 

"Is it? Then you'd better take it 
by all means and destroy your 
nerves," said Dorrance shortly, be- 
ginning to transfer his dinner from 
the fire to the table. 

"Now fall to, Stuart, but go 
slow," he cautioned. 

Stuart fell to with a relish that 
delighted the doctor, though he had 
hard work to keep his famished 
guest from "bolting" his food. He 
became quite reckless over his sec- 
ond cup of coffee and accepted a 
cigar when the meal was finished. 
Then he grew loquacious and com- 
municative. He informed Dor- 
rance that it was his wife who had 
first become a convert to the natural 
food fad and had regulated her cus- 
sine and family accordingly. He 
unwittingly betrayed the fact to 
the discerning doctor that his wife's 
will was law. 

"She and Linley really like the 
stuff and they seem well," he 

"Your daughter is certainly fair 
but she doesn't seem hardy," de- 
clared the doctor, "but it is perfect- 
ly evident to me that you were 
starving for nourishing food." 

"I do feel fine, now," admitted 

"Try eating like a man for a 



week and I'll bet you'll feel like a 
different being and gain at least 
four pounds." 

"I don't know how I'll manage," 
said Stuart doubtfully. "My wife 
only gave us food supplies of grains 
and nuts, and cautioned Linley to 
see that I did not backslide." 

"Come over here at this hour 
every day. You must make some 
excuse to send your daughter to 
town and you can go with me to 
dinner. I'll land at your place 
every morning on my way to the 
fishing ground — I generally go by 
boat — and take you for a boat ride, 
and incidentally make you some 
coffee for your breakfast. At night, 
well, you'll have to eat your chicken 
food once a day I guess." 

"I hate to have a secret from 
Linley," remarked Stuart regret- 
fully. "She is so good to me an — " 

"Just for a week," tempted the 
doctor, "and then'll we 'fess up." 

By the time Linley had called for 
her father, Dorrance, having care- 
fully concealed all traces of the 
stolen feast, persuaded her to defer 
the trip home until her father 
should awaken from his nap. 

"I am so glad he is asleep !" she 
exclaimed happily. "I can't remem- 
ber when he has had a day nap 

The next morning, in accordance 
with the prearranged program, the 
doctor stopped at the Stuarts' land- 
ing where his new acquaintance 
was awaiting him." 

"Did you bring anything to eat?" 
lie asked anxiously. "I just pre- 
tended to eat my flakes this morn- 
ing. I was so afraid you wouldn't 
-come I" 

The doctor's hearty laugh pealed 
forth as he rowed down stream with 
quick short strokes. 

"You're worse than a reformed 

drunkard in one of his lapses," de- 
clared the doctor. 

A mile down stream they landed, 
and the doctor built a fire. He then 
deftly prepared a breakfast which 
consisted of eggs, coffee and toast. 

"Now then, don't you feel strong 
enough to fish?" he asked as they 
resumed their rowing. 

"You bet I do, and I'll help you 
row back, too." 

It was after eleven o'clock when 
Dorrance landed Stuart at his cabin. 

"I'll go up with you and see what 
the prospects are for taking you 
home with me," he proposed. 

They found a note from Linley 
pinned to the door, saying she had 
gone to the village and had left her 
father's luncheon on the table. 

"We'll take it with us and dump 
it in the river," declared Dorrance. 
"So now the way is clear for you to 
go to the farmhouse with me. I 
told them I should bring you to-day. 
Do you like chicken pie?" 

"Oh, Lord," said Stuart impres- 

His anticipation sustained him in 
the walk from Dorrance's tent to 
the farmhouse. 

"That friend o' your'n must be 
holler," confided the farmer's wife 
to Dorrance after dinner. "He swal- 
lered them new potatoes like they 
was so many pills, and such a 
mouth for pie ! I never did see ! He 
ain't gittin' over a fever or sum- 
thin' is he? That's the way my 
Aaron et after he was gittin' over 
the typhoid." 

"No, he's been dieting," said the 
doctor apologetically, "and one 
doesn't often get an opportunity to 
eat such well-cooked appetizing 
food as yours." 

The farmer's wife's third set of 
teeth gleamed in hospitality and 



"Land sakes! You just bring him 
with you every day. 

All right!" agreed the doctor. 
"I'll catch and clean the fish for to- 
morrow's dinner. 

"What's the matter, Stuart?" 
queried Dorrance on the way home, 
noting his guest's dismal expres- 
sion. •'You aren't suffering from in- 
digestion, are you?" 

"No," replied Stuart lugubrious- 
ly. "I was only wondering how the 
deuce 1 was going to get a square 
meal for supper!" 

"Now, see here, Stuart, if you are 
going to become such a gourmand, 
I'll put you on rations!" 

The day's program was repeated 
with slight variations for a week. 
No trouble was experienced in elud- 
ing Linley, who was cheerfully ac- 
quiescent to all proposals. She had 
made the acquaintance of some peo- 
ple who lived on the opposite shore 
of the stream a mile below their 
camp, and she spent a great deal of 
her time with them. 

"Papa enjoys being with you so 
much," she told Dorrance, "that I 
feel no scruples in abandoning him 
so frequently." 

At the end of a week, Stuart cer- 
tainly looked a different man, and 
he had gained five pounds in weight. 
ill- improvement had seemed to re- 
art on Linley. She was more viva- 
is in looks and action than when 
Dorrance had first beheld her and 
he concluded that it was anxiety for 
her father thai had slightly tinged 
her face with melancholy. 

• I suppose tomorrow [ must 
break the news to her," said Stuart. 
"I think I feel equal to it, now." 

"Le1 lll( ' tell her," solicited the 
doctor, enjoying the prospect of 

hi- triumph over her theories. 

It was arranged that the denou- 
| should occur the following 

afternoon. In the morning Dor- 
rance as usual called for Stuart to 
take a "morning row." Linley, con- 
trary to custom, was at the land- 

"I want to return some of your 
kindness to papa," she said. "Will 
you come back here to dinner this 
noon? I should like to show you 
what a palatable menu we can 

There was no alternative for the 
doctor but to accept this invitation 
which he did in a cordial manner 
and a brave effort to conceal his 
amusement at the awful expression 
on Stuart's countenance. 

"Never mind!" he said reassur- 
ingly when they had rowed away, 
"you can make some excuse to come 
to my tent this afternoon and we'll 
have an 'extra.' " 

When they returned to the cabin 
at noon, Stuart, knowing what he 
was about to receive, was not truly 
thankful, but Dorrance was quite 
interested and curious as to the 
manner of the meal. The table was 
set very attractively with its decora- 
tions of wild flowers, and the hos- 
tess was certainly fair and sweet to 
the eye. 

The first course was a cream oi 
corn soup which was most palatable 
and which caused Dorrance's hopes 
to rise with his appetite, but alas ! 
the following courses were a mixed 
miscellany of grains, flakes and 
"foolish foods," as Dorrance termed 
them. The coffee reminded him of 
some barley water his mother had 
once made him drink. Served with 
coffee was a nut sandwich which 
Dorrance mentally likened to hard 
tack spread with oleomargerine. He 
tasted of everything from politeness 
and curiosity, but Stuart made no 
pretense of eating. The hostess 
herself, Dorrance noted, only nib- 



bled daintly at the different grains. 

"Well, on the whole, how do yon 
like onr menu?" she asked rising 
from the table. 

"If you want my frank opinion," 
replied Dorrance, "I will tell you 
that I feel like a granary. A man 
requires different food from a 

To his surprise she did not seem 
to resent the criticism but smiled 
mirthfully. Stuart expressed his in- 
tention of going back in the woods 
for a snooze but the doctor sus- 
pected him of designs in a tobacco 
way. Dorrance offered his services 
■to Linley as kitchen maid, assuring 
her he was proficient and experi- 
enced in that line. 

There is no occupation so con- 
ducive to confidence as dish-wash- 
ing. When Dorrance caught up a 
pile of dinner plates, dexterously 
shuffling, wiping and stacking them, 
he felt quite at ease and was soon 
making a graphic and detailed con- 
fession of the week's eating debauch 
-of her father. When he had finished 
his recital, Linley was silent for a 
moment, wringing the dishcloth ab- 
stractedly and gazing supinely out 
-of the little diamond-paned window. 
Then she turned and remarked la- 

"I am glad you told me. It 
makes it easier for me. You see I 
knew it from the first when you 
fed him from your lunch basket." 

The doctor stared incredulously. 

"I saw the crumbs of bread and 
a morsel of chicken," she continued, 
"when I came up on the porch. 
The next day when I stopped at 
your tent to drive papa home, I 
knew from his expression that he 
had had a square meal. His health 
was my first consideration, and I 
was willing to try the experiment 
-of solid food ; so I resolved to help 

you two deluded people carry out 
your plans and to offer no opposi- 
tion unless I saw he was suffering 
from the experiment. But he has 
steadily and speedily improved. It 
was quite wearing on me to think 
up excuses for absenting myself so 
frequently for I wished to impose 
no obstacles." 

"Do you know," said Dorrance, 
looking at her with admiration, 
" you have got more common sense 
than any girl I ever knew." 

"Important if true," she said de- 
murely, "for I am doubtless the 
only exponent of a pure food propo- 
sition that you know." 

When they had finished the work, 
they sat on the river bank where 
Stuart presently joined them. Then 
Linley went into the house and left 
the two men together. Half an 
hour later she called to them from 
the doorway. They answered the 
summons and in the dining room 
found the table again set, this time 
in farmer fashion, steak, potatoes, 
vegetables, pie and coffee en masse. 

"I know you are both hungry," 
she said lightly. 

Dorrance paused as he cut the 
first portion of steak. 

"Will you?" 

"I will!" she laughed. "I only 
joined mamma's food society in the 
hope of benefiting papa by my ex- 
ample. I was sent here to be cus- 
todian of his cuisine and when I 
found he was stealing a march on 
me I thought the occasion for my 
fasting was ended, so I found a 
boarding place across the river." 

"It only remains for me to pre- 
scribe for your mother," observed 
the doctor. 

"That you will never do." said 
Linley with conviction. "Papa and 
I henceforth will have to lead a 
foraging existence." 

The Birthright 

By Mary Close Robinson 

When radiant Summer's clays are sweet, 

Rosy and rich the air as wine, 
Cowslips and clover neath ones feet, 
When heartstrings strain and pulses beat — 

Sweet Puritan Forbear of mine, 

Why do you check my merry mood? 

Why hush the lips that lilt and trill, 
By smiling sunshine softly wooed? 
Why drive away the madcap brood, 

Of gay desires that tempt and thrill? 

Not dance and sing as those who grew 
From southern stock and southern vine? 

Beneath your cap grave eyes and true, 

Sweet lips as ever artist drew, 
Reprove these impulses of mine. 

I yield ; let others sing and dance, 

Where I now dwell 'neath southern skies 

Something within me meets thy glance — 

As kinship challenges romance, 

And the midsummer madness dies. 


When sorrow steeps the soul in tears, 

When winter days are chill and bleak, 
When to grief's eyes the coming years 
Are cold and gray and fraught with fears, 
And yearning friends no comfort speak ; 

In these rebellious veins of mine, 

I thank thee thy life current flows, 
Strong Puritan Forbear, benign 
As the cathedral walls where twine, 

With clustering blooms, the scarlet rose. 

The rose and merry mood will die, 
Cathedral walls unchanged remain; 

Thou siren sprite of sun and sky, 

Why quarrel with heredity? 

Who would forswear that stoic strain? 

Antwerp, The Hub of Europe 

By Homer Gregmore 


NOW that Boston has a direct 
steamship line the tourist pub- 
lic is just beginning to dis- 
cover Antwerp, a place of marked 
individuality, as yet little spoiled by 
the rush of travel. It is in more 
sense than one the hub of Europe. 
In the first place there are parts of 
it that so resemble Boston that a 
dweller on Beacon Hill might well 
feel at home there. The streets of 
the old town are just as narrow and 
as full of inconsequential wander- 
ings as the much derided "cow 
paths" of our own "hub." Between 
the Place Verte and the docks you 

may as easily get lost and as easily 
bring up at some place of absorb- 
ing historic interest as between Bos- 
ton Common and the limits of the 
"North End." But Antwerp is also 
the hub of Europe by virtue of posi- 
tion. From its docks radiate spokes 
which are steamship lines to all the 
ports of the world, while on its 
landward side radiate other spokes 
which are railroads to Germany, or 
Switzerland, or France, bringing 
the capitals of Europe within easy 
and direct routes. The traveller 
who lands at this Hub of Europe 
from the little swift steamers which 

6 7 


N E W E X G L A N D M A G A Z I N E 

ply daily From England, or from the 
Red Star leviathans from New 

York, the largest liners which pass 
up the Scheldt, has a wonderful 
view of the city set like an opal in 
the vivid green of the dyked low- 
lahds, its miles oi docks flashing 
with a world's commerce, its Front 
iridescent with the yellows and reds 
of ancient buildings, and over all 
towering the lace like pinnacles of 
its cathedral, one oi the most beau- 
tiful in Europe. 

The guardians of the customs are 
not strenuous at Antwerp. Few 
things are dutiable in Belgium, any- 
way, and as a rule they take your 
modest tip" with a smile, look casu- 
ally at the outside of your luggage, 
chalk it. and pass you without 
further trouble. Once within the 
town you find a curious mingling 
of modern and ancient customs. All' 
newspapers and notices are printed 
in both ancient Flemish and mod- 
ern French. Electric cars dispute 
the street with little carts drawn 
by women and dogs. The milk 
maid and her dog draw a milk cart 
laden with huge copper milk cans, 
each doing a share of the transpor- 
tation. The woman wears a curious 
Flemish cap and wooden shoes. A 
laundress similarly dressed pushes 
a hand barrow to your door with a 
dog tugging at the harness in front. 
Indeed the bearing of burdens 
seems to be about equally divided 
in the old parts of the town between 
great. Flemish horses, little Flemish 
dogs, and Flemish women. Every 
other house is an inn, every inn oc- 
cupies the sidewalk with tables and 
chairs, and everybody seems busy 
selling light refreshments at a very 
modesl price to everybody else. 
Everybody seems to keep sober too. 

TbtJS for the Old tOWIl, but as you 

get away from the older streets you 
find many things which surprise 
you. The narrow lanes and their 
curious shops give way to broad 
avenues, parks, beautiful buildings 
and everywhere statuary. The city 
was the home of Reubens and Van 
Dyke and the impress of art is 
everywhere on the place. In the 
cathedral, the many museums and 
public buildings are the canvases 
they left, and the works of their 
worthy disciples are legion, making 
the city peculiarly interesting to the 
art student. But if the Antwerpian 
is ..devoted to painting and statuary 
surely all the Belgians are worship- 
pers, of music. There is music 
everywhere, in the cafes, on the 
streets, and especially in the band- 
stands which beautify every square. 
This universal love of music on the 
part of the Belgians was so well de- 
scribed to me by an American of 
some importance who sojourned 
there this spring that I give his ver- 
sion of it, it was so characteristic 
both of the musicians and the Amer- 
ican point of view. 

"Just as I stepped off the Red 
Star boat," he said, "I heard a whole 
military band coming down the 
dock. Now I am a man of some 
importance in my own town and I 
have before now known what it is 
to be received with a brass band. I 
didn't expect it in Antwerp but I 
had my little speech all ready just 
the same. 

"But I was mistaken. It was just 
the ship's regular band, left over 
one trip for some reason, and they 
were so glad to see the ship again 
that they came down to meet it 
playing glad melodies. Every one 
of those fellows was just on ordi- 
nary steward, signed on as such, 
but a capable musician also. When 


the band is not playing on the regu- 
lar trip they all take hold and do 
steward's work just like the others. 
"Now there are not many nations 
where you can find ship's stewards 
who are first class band musicians, 
but that's Belgium. Every ship of 


this line has its steward's band, 
formed in the same way and play- 
ing rattling good music. 

"Well, I've been spending a week 
in Antwerp and I have learned a 
whole lot about Belgian band music. 
One evening I strolled out on the 


principal street. 1 hadn't gone far 
when I heard another band and saw 
about forty musicians in uniform 
marching down the street till they 
stopped at a fine residence where, a 
great crowd surrounding, they lined 
up and played several airs. 

"Now, I'm in politics myself and 
1 quite understood it. I knew that 
after about the third tune a fat man 
would come out on the balcony, 
how to the crowd, and tell us why 
he was a democrat. Then he'd say 
that if he was elected he'd see that 
the fourteenth ward had all that 
ling to it and a few special- 
beside. Then he'd end by in- 
viting them all to come in and open 
a keg of beer with him. 

"But no such thing happened. 
Some children came to an upper 
window and listened and clapped 
their hand-, bul there was no politi- 
cal speech and no beer offering. 

By-and-bye the band marched 
away, still playing. I asked a by- 
stander what it was all about, and 
he said, 

'' 'Oh, noddings, dey schoost 
amuse demselves !' 

"That seems to be the way they 
do in Belgium. The people 'schoost 
amuse demselves' with music, good 
music. Just as a sample you can 
hear excellent music almost every 
evening in the Place Verte from a 
band of fifty or more musicians sup- 
ported by the government. The 
bandstand itself is a most elaborate 
structure of carved stone, which 
cost about $60,000. 

"Besides this every organization 
in Antwerp, whether a guild or a 
trades union or a social society, has 
its military band, composed of its 
own members, and on special Sun- 
days these bands compete all day 
long in the Place Verte for a prize. 



From nine in the morning till five 
at night a new band takes the stand 
every hour and plays its best until 
it is time for the next band to come 
on. The verdict is decided by a 
popular vote of the assembled peo- 
ple in the square and at the cafes 
and the prize winners are immensely 

"These bands come marching in 
from the suburbs and surrounding 
towns at all hours Saturday night 
and Sunday morning, playing lusti- 
ly, and as full of good natured 
pranks as school boys on a holiday. 
I saw an amusing thing late last 
Saturday night which was typical 
also of the politeness and good na- 
ture of the Belgians. 

"A band marched up in front of 
one of the cafes, played a lively air, 
then marched in and stood care- 
fully in line. The bandmaster 
raised his baton, and in perfect 

unison the company exclaimed ii 
French, 'We have no money,' an< 
looked longingly at the bar. 

"The proprietor looked at them 
There were forty. Then he shool 
his head with an apologetic shrug 
and a smile. 

" 'It is not to drink, Messieurs, 
he said. 

" 'Merci, M'sieur,' replied th. 
band in concert. 

"Then at a wave of the baton the^ 
filed out, lifted their instruments 
played a bar or two more of th< 
tune; and marched on, thirsty still 
but happy as ever. 

"As the bands march playing t< 
the square the people follow then 
and dance in the street alongside 
and as they march away the sam< 
thing happens. Nor is it the Plac< 
Verte alone that has its bands. Al 
the squares and recreation ground! 
in the city have them. Every cafe 


has its orchestra, and the num- 
ber of the cafes is a constant source 
of marvel to the visitor. Yes, I real- 
ly believe the Belgians are the 
greatest music lovers and the great- 
est music makers on earth/' 

Yet neither its painters, its musi- 
cians nor its old-time sights and 
customs make Antwerp most note- 
worthy to-day. It is the city's enor- 
mous progress in trade and its 
modern and ingenious facilities for 
handling it that is challenging the 
admiration of the world. It has come 
to -tand among the foremost ship- 
ping ports in all Europe and is 
lily pushing toward first place. 
In [890 the total tonnage entering 
the port was a million, but in [900 
this had grown to 0.000,000 and in 

; it exceeded 9,000,000. Last 
year the city celebrated the hun- 
dredth anniversary of the founding 

■ docks by the great Napoleon. 

These docks nearly surround the 
city and have a total area of four 
hundred acres which is soon to be 
increased to six hundred, with plans 
laid for still further extension. 
Some of the older docks, too, ex- 
tend well into the old town, and 
their lesser arms penetrate it in 
several places making the city real- 
ly in part amphibious, with swarms 
of boat dwellers who live the year 
round on their canal boats. Often 
these boats so crowd a dock that 
you may walk from one end to the 
other on their decks. 

The mechanism for the handling 
of freight and working the sluices 
and locks of this great dock sys- 
tem is a model of modern appli- 
ances. The motive power is derived 
from powerful hydraulic canaliza- 
tions which put into action sluices, 
swinging bridges, locks, cranes, and 
all the paraphernalia of a modern 



dock system. Railroad tracks rim 
the quays and hundreds of travel- 
ling cranes, hydraulically operated 
each under the guidance of a single 
man, transfer freight from ship to 
train or from train to ship with 

wonderful rapidity and ease. These" 
practical arrangements are the most 
modern to be found in any Euro- 
pean port and far exceed the primi- 
tive appliances to be found in Amer- 
ican sea ports. 


Phoebe's Experiment 

i?v Crittenden Marriott 

PHOEBE shook her head de- 
spondently. She could not 
understand it. She rose and 
went to her glass and looked long 
and questioningly into the features 
re fleeted there. Surely she was 
pretty enough — not exactly beauti- 
ful, but undeniably pretty, — with 
outlines that time would improve 
rather than injure. Nor did she look 
like one who might become "bossy"; 
her eyes and mouth, though firm, 
were not such as to give warning 
of future severity. Altogether she 
was quite up to the average run of 
girls, in appearance at least. Why, 
then, had she lost the only lover 
she had ever had? 

For lost him she had, definitely 
and finally, though she had not real- 
ized the fact until that very morn- 
ing. For months she noticed that 
Frank Moran had been growing 
colder and colder. At last, sick at 
heart, she had offered to release 
him for very shame lest he should 
jilt her openly. After a feeble pro- 
tesl thai showed in every word how 
glad he was to be free, he had gone 
Xow, only a week later, 
came the explanation in his mar- 
a girl from a neighboring 
village — a girl whom he had not 
known for as many days as he had 
Pheobe for years. 

Phoebe carried herself through it 
all so proudly that even the village 
ipS had been put at fault and 
had begun to wonder whether she 
had really cared for him at all. 
Phoebe herself was under no such 

uncertainty. She knew she loved 
Frank with a love that would last 
as long as life did. She came of a 
constant family; her aunt had re- 
mained single all her life, cleaving 
to the memory of a long dead sol- 
dier lover; her mother had remained 
a widow all Phoebe's life, though 
she had become one while still 
young and popular; and Phoebe 
was like them both. No, she de- 
cided, there was no more love for 
her; all that was left in life was to 
pick up the broken fragments that 
remained and do with them what 
she might. 

When her hour of introspection 
was past, she walked down to the 
little sitting room. "Mother," she 
said firmly, "I am going to adopt 
little Henry Peters." 

Mrs. Davis looked at her daugh- 
ter in amazement. "Going to 
adopt — " she gasped. "Phoebe Da- 
vis, are you in your right mind?" 

"Yes, mother, I hope so. He is 
a dear little fellow, and you know 
his mother was my best friend. 
Now that he is alone— in short, I 
am going to adopt him." 

A mist of unshed tears clouded 
Mrs. Davis' soft eyes. Her daugh- 
ter might hoodwink the rest of the 
world, but she could not mislead 
her mother. "Someday you might 
marry, Phoebe," she ventured, un- 
certainly, "and then — " 

"I shall never marry, mother." 

"Oh, Phoebe ! Phoebe ! is it as 
bad as that?" The words were a 
cry, as the elder woman took the 




younger in her arms and let her 
tears drop unrestrainedly. "Are 
you sure, Phoebe ? Oh ! Are you 

"Yes, mother; I am sure." 
The elder did not try to argue. 
Too well she knew the adamantine 
stuff in her daughter's bosom — 
knew it to be like her own. Instead 
she stroked the girl's long dark 
hair. "My pretty, pretty Phoebe," 
she murmured. "If Frank isn't 
punished, it — " 

But Phoebe put her hand softly 
to the other's lips. "No, mother," 
she whispered. "Don't say it. It 
wasn't his fault. He didn't know; 
that's all. We won't speak of it any 
more, mother. Now," with an en- 
tire change of tone, "now let me 
go and arrange to adopt little 

* * * ^ * ^ 

The adoption of Henry Peters 
created a stir in the village beside 
which that of the Moran marriage 
had been as nothing. That Phoebe 
Davis, barely of age herself and un- 
married, should deliberately tie her- 
self down by assuming the care of 
a six months old boy passed every- 
thing that the simple villages had 
ever experienced. "Phoebe was a 
good friend of Mabel Peters," said 
one gossip. "But, land's sake! adop- 
tion goes be}^ond friendship." 

"I don't see why her mother did 
not prevent it," ventured one young 

"Prevent!" echoed the first speak- 
er. "Prevent! I'd like to see any 
one prevent one of them Davises 
when they get started. They are 
the sotinest in their ways I ever 
heard on." 

"Do you reckon she's done it be- 
cause of Frank Moran?" 

"Dunno. Nobdy ain't dared to 

ask her yet, an' nobody will, take 
my word for it. She says she ain't 
never goin' to marry an' she wants 
somethin' young about her to keep 
her from growin' old and turnin' in- 
to a real old maid.' 

"Well, it's a pity some others I 
could name ain't been moved to fol- 
low her example in the past. 
There'd be less spite an' back talk 
in this town if they had, an' that's 
my opinion." 

* * * * * * 

While adoption is a legal rather 
than a religious cremony, it was im- 
possible in that retired community 
that anything of the sort should be 
carried through without the knowl- 
edge, advice and consent of the 
preacher. The Rev. Mr. White was 
shocked when Phoebe came to tell 
him of her intentions. x\lthough 
greatly relieved to find the Peters 
baby, concerning whose fate he had 
been greatly exercised, was to have 
a good home, he yet distrusted the 
permanence of the arrangment. Old 
and wise ; he saw more clearly per- 
haps than Phoebe, the probable as 
well as the inevitable consequences 
of the step, and feared lest the girl 
of whom he was so fond should 
either wreck her life by clinging to 
a responsibility that would almost 
certainly become burdensome soon- 
er or later, or else weaken her moral 
fibre by abandoning trust once vol- 
untarily assumed. 

"It is a venturesome thing you 
are going to do, Phoebe, my dear," 
he said anxiously. "Have you con- 
sidered w r ell?" 

Phoebe had considered well, and 
believed that she could do her duty 
by the child. 

"I haven't a mite of doubt about 
that," returned the preacher, still 
anxiously. "The question is about 


you. Have you thought that sonic 
day you may wish to do something 
whore the care of this boy may in- 
terfere with your most cherished de- 
sires — " 

Phoebe looked at him calmly. 
"Y< H mean 1 may want to marry," 
she said straightforwardly. "I shall 
never marry. Mr. White." 

- mellow the old man felt the 
tragic truth that lay behind the 
girl's lips. He sighed. "Beware' 
lest, coming unworthily, ye eat and 
drink damnation unto yourselves,'' 
he quoted, gently. "This is a good 
deed y->u propose to do, but beware 
lest your motives be unworthy; for, 
surely as they are unworthy, so 
surely will you pay for them in 
sack-cloth and in ashes. Human 
lives and human souls are not to be 
played with in a tit of pique, Phoebe. 
Think well before you do this 

"I have thought, Air. White. I 
have counted all the cost and reck- 
oned up the gain — and I am satis- 
tied. I shall never marry. When 
mother passes away — as she may 
soon, a- you well know — I shall be 
alone in the world, left to grow up 
into a soured old maid. T cannot 
live so; f must have something to 
love — omething of my very own. 
Since marriage is not for me, T must 
do tin- next besl thing. This adop- 
tion will he good for little Henry— 
yes; but it will be immeasurably 
better for me." 

The preacher's eyes filled with 
tear-. "God bless you, Phoebe," he 
"Whosoever doeth it to the 
of these, doeth it unto me." 

'I he years wenl by and little 
Henry was little no longer, but a tall 
youth with a fainl down on his up- 
per lip that, -poke of approaching 

manhood. He and Phoebe were 
very dear to each other. For fifteen 
years they had lived together alone 
in the pretty little house, and then 
Phoebe, with the first pang she had 
known in all that time, had seen 
him go forth to college in a neigh- 
boring town. "There's no other 
way," she murmured to herself as 
she returned to the loneliness of 
that first evening. "Henry mustn't 
be tied to a woman's apron strings. 
He'll be a man soon and he must 
learn to play the part ot one. Pll 
busy myself in thinking how happy 
Pll be when he comes home again." 
And Henry had gone away and 
come back again, the same simple- 
minded, whole-hearted youngster as 

For the rest, everything had 
turned out as she had hoped. Love 
had kept Phoebe young where the 
lack of it would have made her old. 
At forty, she was almost beautiful 
— far more beautiful than she had 
ever been at twenty. The friends 
of her youth, — those who had mar- 
ried — pulled down by family cares, 
looked far older than she, while 
those that had remained single 
were spare and gaunt, clinging with 
ferevish energy to the few vestiges 
of a departed youth that still hung 
about them. Phoebe alone seemed 
perennially young; in giving her 
life for another, she had saved it for 


* * * * * * 

Meanwhile Frank Moran and his 
wife had had hard times. Both 
were well-meaning enough and each 
was well qualified to make happy 
anyone of the millions of mates 
who would have been congenial to 
them*. It was their misfortune that 
they had married first and made 
each other's acquaintance afterward. 

PHOEJ! E'S F X P K \< I M E X T 


All their ways were diametrically- 
opposed. Frank liked to have every- 
thing in order, while his wife was 
accustomed to let things go any 
way they would. Frank loved a 
well-cooked and neatly served din- 
ner, clean and well-behaved chil- 
dren, well-swepted and dusted 
rooms Mrs. Frank cared nothing 
for these things, and Frank, after 
many protests, settled down into a 
sullen submission to the inevitable. 
Mrs. Frank, on the other hand, had 
her grievances in the discovery that 
Frank's admiration for music, his 
pleasure in dancing, and his desire 
for long moonlight walks, had be- 
longed exclusively to his courting 
days and had passed away with 

For twenty years these two lived 
stonily side by side ; then poor ro- 
mantic Mrs. Frank took her artistic 
longings to another world, where it 
is to be hoped they were better ap- 

Frank missed her, of course. 
Two people cannot live together for 
a score of years without learning to 
depend on each other. The life of 
the Morans had not been all bicker- 
ing; there had been moments, rare 
indeed, but yet not entirely want- 
ing, when husband and wife had 
once again breathed in the scent of 
the Eden flower. 

For a year or more, Frank 
mourned her faithfully, then he 
went to call on Phoebe. 

He found her walking swiftly 
homeward, with a glow on her face, 
and fell in beside her. "Phoebe," 
he said abruptly. "I made an aw- 
ful mistake years ago. Fve known 
it for a long time, but — Phoebe, I 
know I'm too old for you. We 
used to be pretty near an age, but 
I've grown old while time's stood 

still for you. Bui I love you, 
Phoebe! I always did, but 1 didn't 
know it. ' sometimes thought — 

'hoebe, can't you cat€ for 

a grain 


-s c 

J Jut Phoebe smiled and shook 
her head. "No, Frank," she said 
gently yet smilingly. "We've both 
assumed too many responsibilities 
in the past twenty years. You have 
your daughters and I have my son 
to think of — " 

"Your son ! Phoebe, don't say 
such a thing. Henry is a nice boy, 
but he isn't your son. I can't bear to 
hear you call him so. You've done all 
that can be expected for him, any- 
way. He is ready to make his own 
way in the world now. Come to 
me, Phoebe, dear. I need you, and 
my girls need you. My Bessie is a 
dear child and does her best with 
the others, but they need a stronger 
hand than hers. Oh! Phoebe! 
Phoebe ! can't you forgive the past 
and come to me?" 

"Forgive — willingly; I have noth- 
ing to forgive. But I cannot forget 
that there are barriers. No, Frank 
the tie that binds me to Henry is 
more sacred than it would be if he 
were indeed my own flesh and 
blood. I will never desert him." 

"Not even when he is married?" 

Phoebe's face fell. The thought 
that Henry would some day marry 
had of late become the terror of her 
life. But she put on a brave face 
and smiled up at her quondam 
lover. "Ah! then—" she began. 

But Frank caught her in his arms. 
"You'll marry me when Henry mar- 
ries," he cried rapturously. "Oh, 
Phoebe, then you can care for me 
again !" 

Not again, Frank, — for I have 
never ceased to care for you. I have 
loved you all my life, — " 



"Thank God !" 

"But I cannot and will not marry 
you until I have discharged my duty 
to 1 lenry. and — " 

"Duty to Henry! I'll tell the 
young rascal and he — " 

"You must not. Never! I forbid 
you." The woman's eyes blazed. 
"When you left me years ago, and I 
ass timed the charge of my dead 
friend's child. I promised my God 
that he should never know the lack 
of his own mother. Please God, I 
shall keep that promise. Until he 
comes to me of his own accord and 
tells me that he has found some 
other woman for whom he cares 
more than for me, I shall hold my- 
self free from all others. He must 
never know of — of you, until then." 

Walking slowly, the two had 
come to the high hedge that bor- 
dered the yard of Moran's place. 
Within it, so engrossed in each 
other that they did not notice the 
arrival of the others, stood a young 
man and a girl. Frank glanced at 
them and drew back. "It's my girl 
and your boy," he whispered. "If 
i1 should be— Oh! Pheobe, if it 
should! Listen!" 

Henry was speaking. "But Bes- 
sie," he said. "If your father will 
not consent — " 

"I know he won't! Poor father, 

I really think he is comfortable for 
the first time in his life. I loved 
mother dearly, but she didn't know 
how to do for father and she would 
not let me try. It's pitiful the way 
he clings to me, Henry. He will 
never let me go." 

"Mother won't let me go, either," 
returned the young man, gloomily. 
"I believe it would break her heart 
for me to marry. You know she 
adopted me when I was a friendless 
baby and gave up her life to me. I 
wouldn't know how to break it to 

"You mustn't break it at all, 
Henry. We must just give it all 
up and do our duty." 

"Duty! Oh! Hang duty!" cried 
the young man, suddenly. "Bessie, 
let's not break it to them at all. 
Let's run away, and be done with 

The girl gasped. "Oh !" she ex- 
claimed with a long-drawn breath. 
"Oh! Wouldn't it be wrong?" 

"Wrong? Not a bit of it! See 
here, Bessie — " his voice trailed off 
into indistinguishable persuasion. 

Outside the fence, the older 
couple looked at each other. The 
man's eyes were dancing. "Phoebe," 
he said. "It's all right. When they 
run away, we'll do the same, and 
make it a double elopment." 

A Foote Note on Poe 

By Eugene C. Dolson 

SEVERAL years ago a friend of 
mine was the possessor of quite 
an extensive library. I used to 
visit him occasionally and browse 
among the old volumes — some of 
which had formerly belonged to his 
mother. Unfortunately, his resi- 
dence, soon afterward, was burned; 
and he succeeded in saving only an 
armful of the larger books. These 
he entrusted temporarily to me and 
they still remain in my possession. 

Among them is a bound volume 
of a Philadelphia periodical, "Sar- 
tain's Magazine," for 1849. We are 
apt, in this age, to look back upon 
American magazine literature of 
that remote period as somewhat 
primitive ; but I find among the con- 
tributors to this volume, such names 
as Longfellow, Lowell, Boker, Bu- 
chanan Read, and Richard Henry 
Stoddard. There is, also, a review 
of Stoddard's very scarce first book 
of poems, "Footprints." 

Looking through the twelve 
monthly numbers which go to make 
up this volume, I find several pieces 
of work that have since become 
classic. Of these I will mention 
only one: "The Bells," by Edgar 
Allan Poe. It appears in the No- 
vember issue, and, as Poe had died 
in October, it was probably in press 
at the time of his death. 

Before the lapse of another month, 
however, this poem had been copied 
all over the land; and "Sartain's 
Magazine" for December, 1849, re " 
cords some information concerning 

it which should not be lost. It is as 
follows : 

"The singular poem of Mr. Poe's, 
called 'The Bells/ which we pub- 
lished in our last number, has been 
very extensively copied. There is a 
curious bit of literary history con- 
nected with this poem, which we 
may as well give now as at any 
other time. It illustrates the grad- 
ual development of an idea in the 
mind of a man of original genius. 
This poem came into our possession 
about a year since. It then con- 
sisted of eighteen lines. They were 
as follows : 

The Bells. — A Song. 

The bells ! — hear the bells ! 
The merry wedding bells ! 
The little silver bells ! 
How fairy-like a melody there swells 
From the silver tinkling cells 
Of the bells, bells, bells ! 
Of the bells ! 

The bells!— ah, the bells! 

The heavy iron bells ! 

Hear the tolling of the bells ! 

Hear the knells ! 
How horrible a monody there floats 

From their throats — 

From their deep-toned throats ! 
How I shudder at the notes 

From the melancholy throats 
Of the bells, bells, bells — 

Of the bells!' 

"About six months after this we 
received the poem altered and en- 
larged nearly to its present size and 
form and, about three months since, 
the author sent another alteration 
and enlargement, in which condition 
the poem was left at the time of his 



"We may remark in passing that attached to everything" in any way 

this is not Mr. Poe's last poem, as relating" to Poe, it seems somewhat 

some of the papers have asserted, singular that modern literary stn- 

We have on hand one of his which dents have so overlooked the story 

is probably his last. It was received of the origin and growth of one oi 

a short time before his decease. We his best-known poems, as told by 

shall give it in our January number." the magazine in which it first saw 

Considering the importance now the light. 

A Face In The Crowd 

By William Stanley Braithwaite 

The clang-or of cars in the street, 
Darkness and clouds overhead, 
And out of the lights that spread 
The crowds that part and meet. 

I was captive to a dream — 
And only vague forms went by ; 
And the tumult was the sigh 
Of the sea at the end of a stream. 

As the foam of a wave will mark 
The night with a shining track, 
A girl's pale face turned back 
Crossing the street in the dark. 

It was only a second's glance, 
But my soul leaped out to her: 
I felt my shaken memories stir 
The dreams of an ancient trance. 

A Tramp of the Grand Banks 

By Konan Machugh 

DAWN broke over a surly ocean. 
The Banks of Newfoundland 
were two days behind and the 
cattle steamer "Borderer" rolled un- 
easily through the great following 
seas that were pushed into turbu- 
lence by the North Atlantic trade 
winds. The crescent red of the east 
flushing the scattered clouds of last 

bags of feed for their future use. 
In part of this space, already emp- 
tied by the demands of the voyage, 
slept the cattle feeders. Hay from 
broken bales served as beds, and 
for pillows, bags of feed about 
which the rats nibbled during the 
night and raced over prostrate 
forms. This did not disturb us, nor 

night's gale, showed the intermittent did the motion of the boat, whose 

gleam of crests that sprang from roll swung us heels high above 

under the bow and swept into a head every few moments. We were 

glimmer under the tumultuous hori- an odd lot, we cattle feeders ; flot- 

zon to leeward. The "Borderer" did sam upon the ebb tide of life whose 

not pitch much ; more than four eddying current had swept us into 

hundred feet long she rode two seas the hold of the "Borderer" and we 

continually and did not greatly feel 
the fling and subsidence of the bil- 
lows, but her narrow hull, whose 
width was scarcely more than a 
tenth of its length — and which, seen 
from the topmast rigging, made you 
think of a fullrigged lead pencil 
gliding point forward toward Eng- 
land — caught now and then the sur- 

had endured the slavery and dis- 
comfort as best we might for six 
days, being now past the probabil- 
ity of further sea sickness and some- 
what inured to misery. The first 
glimmer of light, aided by the 
sound of eight bells, awoke me. 

Eight bells was four o'clock and 
we would soon be called for the 

gent rhythm of the seas and rolled morning's work, so if I would get 
tremendously. At such times the a bath, and especially if I would 
cattle, wild eyed and weary, groaned successfully hide the bit of tarpau- 

with the misery of their cramped 
positions, and a little half sobbing 
bellow ran from rank to rank. Two 
rows of them filled the sheds on the 
hurricane deck just under the boats; 
on the main deck two more touched 
horns from the forecastle to the offi- 
cers' quarters, and on from the gal- 
ley to the stern; while below deck 
double rows pressed flanks from 
bow to stern barring a space of 
about seventy feet amidships, where 
were stowed the bales of hay and 


lin which served me for a blanket, I 
must hasten. The tarpaulin was 
mine by right of discovery, by prior- 
ity of occupancy, and by success 
thus far in hiding it from the other 
feeders who would have stolen it 
from me, and especially from the 
regular cattle men who would have 
taken it by force and arms. 

Every cattle steamer carries be- 
side her regular crew a gang of men 
whose sole business is to look after 
the cattle. They have nothing to 



do with the regular crow, except 
the cook, and very little with him as 
we found to our sorrow. There are 
a foreman and live or six regular 
cattle men who follow this as a 
business, the rest being' shipped as 
feeders. The feeders do practically 
all the work of caring for the cattle, 
certainly all the drudgery, and re- 
ceive in return their passage across 
and more kicks than ha'pence. 
They are turned into the ship with- 
out beds or bedding, or sufficient 
utensils from which to eat, and live 
as they can, like the rats, which are 
better fed. 

Each regular cattle man has 
charge of a certain number of cat- 
tle and is also lord over some of the 
feeders, and no feudal Baron had 
ever more absolute power over his 
retainers than he. The feeder is 
the slave of the cattle man and woe 
to him who is lazy or disobedient, 
and still more woe to him who talks 

I got a pail of tepid water and 
my bath was nearly finished when 
Yank appeared. Yank was a tramp 
who suffered from occasional re- 
lapses into* work, but had no use 
for baths. He had tramped all over 
the United States and during his 
relapses had been an oyster pirate 
in Maryland, a fruit picker in Flor- 
ida orange groves, tool sharpener 
for a gang of New York burglars, 
tent man with a well known circus, 
and ever a tramp. He was a good 
natured fellow with a fund of inter- 
acting, if not wholly trustworthy 
persona] anecdote, had shipped to 
see what the life was like, and was 
well content with it. 

There was as yet no sign of Pad- 
dy, our proprietor, and as it would 
not do to lift a finger toward the 
morning's work without his com- 

mand we lurched along the un- 
steady alley way between the horns 
and climbed to the deck and the 
cool morning air. 

The first glint of the sun was 
touching the torn drift of the gale 
with gold and flashing from the 
dark backs of huge seas that chased 
one another and flung great froths 
of foam into masses that made the 
sea fairly white to leeward. Yet 
we were steaming so fast with the 
wind that we did not feel it much, 
though the "Borderer" buried her 
bulwarks in the sea at each roll. 

"Come down here and go to 
work," called Paddy's voice from 
below, and we hastened to descend. 

"Where's that Shorty?" he asked 

We professed ignorance. Ignor- 
ance was an excellent profession 
during Paddy's truculent morning 

Shorty always reminded me of a 
spaniel. He was a frisky, brown 
eyed little London cockney who had 
been seeking his fortune in the new 
world, and failing, was going back 
to starve in London, "where he 
knew how." He, with Yank and I, 
had been consigned to Paddy's reti- 
nue on the first day of the voyage 
and he was at that moment un- 
doubtedly curled up on the hay fast 
asleep, but we had no evidence of 
this and beside had learned that ex- 
cess of information was undesirable 
in Paddy's presence. Paddy started 
down one alley way toward the 
hold, but luck was with Shorty, for 
at that moment he appeared at the 
other with half open eyes and dec- 
orated with stray wisps of hay from 
his bed. 

So when Paddy reappeared we 
waited but the command to begin 
watering the hundred cattle in our 



charge. The long lines of their 
horns stretched on either side of the 
starboard walk from the bow to the 
hold, broken only by the openings 
of three hatchways where were 
lashed a dozen water butts filled the 
morning before with hot water from 
the condenser, water which was still 
more than lukewarm. 

Paddy took a stout club having 
in the end a nail sharpened for a 
goad. "Fetch on that water now ! 
You can dip it, Big Fellow," he 
said. Big Fellow, — that was I — 
dipped two pails at a time and 
passed -them to the others, who 
scuttled with them down the sway- 
ing alley to Paddy who placed one 
in front of each bullock. The cattle 
were thirsty — they had not drank 
for twenty-four hours and they jos- 
tled one another in their eagerness. 
Here was where the club came in, 
and the bullock which showed un- 
due haste received summary pun- 
ishment. I have repeatedly seen a 
bullock held by the halter to receive 
six or seven blows from this club 
full on the eye. The treatment 
would, spoil the bullock's desire for 
water and he would not drink until 
the next morning, making his thirst 
a forty-eight hour one. To inter- 
fere at such times would be to en- 
danger the integrity of one's own 
eye without helping the sufferer. 

At the end of an hour the cattle 
had at least smelled water, the butts 
were empty and the arms of Big 
Fellow were thoroughly tired. 
Next came hay. Bale after bale 
was rolled out and broken open. 
We shook out the contents and 
scattered them by hand in the alley 
way, lurching against the horns of 
the eager cattle. Paddy pitched it 
in front of them with a fork. Then 
the water butts were again filled 

from the ever-sizzling condenser. 

Then breakfast; nearly three 
hous of hard labor having given us 
an appetite, even for scouse. 

Fifteen of us gathered about the 
after hatch in the cold North At- 
lantic sunshine. A few shallow 
pans, tin dippers, and spoons, had 
been given us on shipping. Some 
of these soon disappeared, no one 
knew how until they were seen in 
the kit of the regular cattle men 
where they remained. The re- 
mainder had, by careful hiding, so 
far been kept. 

The breakfast — one piece each of 
very poor bread, a dish of scouse, 
and a can of black fluid, which the 
cook assured us was coffee but 
which tasted like nothing earthly, 
was brought from the galley and 
soon disappeared, those who had 
no dishes waiting with hungry eyes 
until they could borrow. 

The following wind now and then 
caught a whiff of spray from the 
crest of a wave and flashed a 
sprinkle of rainbow across the deck 
toward the sun. Under sail and 
steam we were making good time 
and our hearts were glad although 
the bread was tasteless and the 
liquid in the can weird and uncanny 
of origin. It was after the bread 
had been eaten and the scouse and 
so-called coffee had entirely ebbed 
away that the Welshman spoke. 

"I haven't had anything to eat," 
he said. 

A shout of laughter went up from 
the others. The Welshman was an- 
other retired fortune seeker, a 
watchmaker by trade, and probably 
more completely out of place than 
ever before in his unlucky life. He 
was indolence and procrastination 
personified. Even his master cat- 
tel man could rouse him into only 



momentary activity. He had owned 
portions of three different grub kits 
and had lost them, one having been 
stolen and two lost overboard. Two 
caps had gone the same way and 
he was now bareheaded. Later in 
trip a countryman among the 
ship's crew gave him another cap 
and he lost that overboard. The 
big Dutch boatswain used to sniff 
with contempt as he passed and 
mutter: "Hein ! I dinks you vails 
of erbort yourself s some tay, und 
got luck vor der ship doo." Yet 
every one felt a sort of personal re- 
sponsibility for him and he was 
soon given a dish and spoon and 
sent to the galley where after some 
abuse from the cook he received 
bread and "coffee." 

Fifteen minutes afterward as we 
had been ordered down to work 
some one asked the Welshman: 
"What did you do with my dish?" 
The Welshman looked hurriedly 
about him. "I — I don't know," he 
said; "I had it right here and it — 
it's gone." 

Our forenoon's work began with 
sweeping the alley ways and clean- 
ing the hay chaff from the troughs 
in front of the bullocks, so that we 
might feed them with meal. Then 
we shouldered the great bags of 
feed from the hold out to the hatch- 
way in readiness. After that until 
dinner we had merely to patrol the 
cattle to see that they got into no 

It was during this hour or two of 
leisure that the cattle men, sitting 
on bales of straw on the hatchway, 
held court, or amused themselves 
by bragging and rough pranks. 
Often we had theatricals. Sambo, 
a little Virginian darky, furnished 
these. Being a darkey the cattle 
men took it for granted that he 

could sing and dance, and sing and 
dance he must! They would prod 
him into the centre of the hatch at 
the end of a goad and while one of 
them patted a rhythm, Sambo was 
frightened into varying a doleful 
shuffle with a more doleful song 
until the enjoyment palled on his 

At eight bells we trooped up to 
the dining hall of the after hatch. 
A bit of bread, a cup of tasteless 
barley soup, vile potatoes, and un- 
eatable salt beef made up the bill. 
My appetite had learned to carry 
the outposts of bread and soup as 
by assault, but the reserve force of 
the beef and potatoes were always 
repulsed and to-day as usual they 
lay unconquered in my dish. 

"What are you going to do with 
that?" asked Yank." 

I pointed toward a hugh green 
sea whose crest toppled and nodded 
along the rail as we rolled to win- 
ward; "The sharks may eat it," I 
said, "I can't." 

"Now see here," said Yank; 
"we'll save that and some of mine 
and Scotty's and have a hash to 
help out the supper. We'll chop it 
with a jack knife and I'll ask the 
cook to let me put it in the oven. 
I helped him yesterday and he'll do 
it for me." 

Scotty and I joyfully assented, 
for anything that would help out 
the supper would fill a long felt 

"Now," said Yank; "we need an 
onion to make it taste right, and 
it's no use asking that cook for 
onions. He'll have to be worked. 
You take the mess kid and some 
of those bad potatoes and go to the 
farther door of the galley and make 
a big kick about them. There's 
onions in the basket. I saw them." 

ON THE Gk A N I ) 

\ \ K S 


A moment after I was at the 
farther galley door showing the 
cook the potatoes and vigorously 
expostulating, hinting that the cap- 
tain ought to see them, and making 
other threats, all of which the cook 
received with lofty scorn. 

"A body'd think you was the 
Prince o' Woyles," he said. "Do 
you hexpect a Lud Mover's ban- 
quet? Get awoy!" I went con- 
tentedly for I had seen Yank's arm 
go into the onion basket while we 

That night our usual five o'clock 
tea was augmented, so far as Yank, 
Scotty and I were concerned, by a 
dish of brown and delicious hash 
whose appetizing flavor of onion 
was all unsuspected by the cook; 
and for once we did not go to bed 

After dinner we fed the cattle 
with meal from the bags, pouring 
it from pails into the troughs which 
we had cleaned that forenoon. Then 
we swept the alley ways, and, 
while the regular cattle men went 
to their bunks for an afternoon nap, 
we patrolled the cattle. They were 
not unpleasant, these afternoons 
free from the domination of our. 
masters. We divided the work and, 
while a few patrolled, the rest sat 
on the hay bales and talked, listened 
to Yank's tales, or read and re-read 
an old newspaper, balancing to the 
swing of the boat, the ports now 
dark with the green of a wave, now 
brushed with foam, and again flash- 

ing with a brief glimpse of sea and 
sky as we rose on the crest of a bil- 
low. Perhaps a bullock slipped his 
halter or got "snarled" with his 
neighbor and had to be "rounded 
up" into place, a labor of mild ex- 
citement and not unattended with 
danger for the cattle were sharp of 
horn and viciously ready with heel. 

At two bells we received a can of 
tea and a bit of bread each for sup- 
per. The Welshman who was not 
present when the bread was given 
out and who had no dish for his 
tea, waited with wistful eyes till he 
received a part of my hash, a bit of 
bread from Yank, and a drink of 
tea from Scotty's dipper, which 
Scotty held tight lest the Welsh- 
man lose it overboard, as indeed he 
did a day or two after. 

Feeding the cattle with hay fol- 
lowed and ended the labors of the 
day. The low sun tipped the tu- 
mult of the waves with glory and 
vanished, and the long twilight 
faded through rose into purple 
which gloomed the horizon and 
smoothed the distant surges as we 
sat long on deck watching the nar- 
rowing circle of sea. Then one by 
one we went to our holes in the hay. 

I was the last one down and ex- 
cited angry comment as I stumbled 
about among the others in vain 

My tarapulin had disappeared 
from its hiding place, and that night 
and thenceforward, I slept on the 
bare hay like the others. 

A Duett 

Bv Henry Baldwin 

MOTRIKES me, Louisa." said 
O Mrs. Hollister, "the Lake- 
bury folks don't neighbor 
very brisk. I've been here two 
tal days and not a soul's come 
into the yard but the meatman. 
Why, at Monkton Ridge hardly an 
evenin' goes by somebody don't 
p in to visit with you. What- 
ever p< assessed your man to locate in 
this out-of-the-way place? Maybe 
if you cut down some of the lilac 
bushes in front of your windows 
'twouldn't seem so lonely. Why, 
when a team's passin' you can't tell 
whose it is or whether it's goin' 
north or south." 

The night was cold, though it was 
only the first week in September, 
and the ladies were sitting on either 
of the "cook-stove," their feet 
in the oven. Mrs. Pomeroy, who 
• had been struggling to keep awake 
by letting down her front hair, 
combing it and rolling it up again, 
had finally yielded to the soothing 
influence of the heat and the dron- 
ing quality her companion's voice 
had taken on and was in a doze. 
Suddenly she straightened, whis- 
pering; "Did you rock against the 
table or did I hear some one out- 

"Talk of the Black Gentleman!'' 
Hollister giggled, "I might 
hav< ' my remarks." 

There was a slamming of stove 

doors, and a scuffling into shoes. 

Pomeroy tipped up the green 

paper lamp-shade and raised the 

issed a hair-brush into the 


comb-box over the sink, tore an 
apron from the back of a chair and 
flung it into a closet ; then, having 
straightened her cap, on the way, 
she admitted the caller. 

"Why, Mr. Pettibone ! This is a 
surprise. He's in the barn, mend- 
ing a wheelbarrow, but he'll be 
right back. Come in ! Let me take 
your hat. This is my friend, Mrs. 
Hollister. Be acquainted! She's 
from Monkton." 

"Monkton Ridge," the guest cor- 

Mr. Pettibone, a solemn little man 
with thin locks combed over his 
ears, made a shy bow to no one in 
particular and sat down on the edge 
of the nearest chair, his head in- 
clined, his hat still in his hand. "I 
only dropped in a minute to see the 
Deacon," he murmured. "Pretty 
cold for the season, ain't it? I 
wouldn't wonder if we had frost be- 
fore Sabbath." 

' 'Tis so! We were just saying 
that frost comes earlier than it did 
when we were young. Mrs. Hollis- 
ter and I grew up together in 
Waitsfield — talk of 'Green Moun- 
tain girls !' We're the true article — ■ 
and then, we were at boarding 
school together, in Burlington. I 
dare say you used to hear of Miss 
Ames's school. One would think, 
living only twenty miles apart, we 
might see each other often, but I 
haven't laid eyes on her 'since the 
Bennington fight,' as they say. 
Well, we are veterans, Emeline!" 

"Seems like yesterday, to me," 

A D U E T 


Mrs. Hollistcr mused, scratching 
her head with a knitting- needle. 
"How well I remember mother's 
sayin' every mornin' : "I want you 
should wait till Louisa starts for 
school, 'cause she's older than you. 
and can look after you." 

Mr .Pettibone slid back in his 
chair and laid his hat on the floor. 
The warmth and brightness of the 
kitchen were irresistible. A cactus 
in a cracked teapot on a window sill 
was gay with scarlet blossoms ; 
spring water trickled into a set bar- 
rel by the sink with a cheery sound, 
and a canary made its presence 
known by querulous chirps that 
added to the general effect. 

"Monkton Ridge !" he said, as he 
inspected a rag mat in front of him, 
"I presume you know Abigail Geer." 

"Mercy to us ! I should think I 
did; and all her tribe! Now isn't 
that interestin'? Abigail don't hand- 
some much, does she? Never saw a" 
Geer that did ! She favors her father ; 
then, she's too pale. Why, she's as 
white as a birth-blow !" 

"She was my wife's cousin, and 
when — well, she's a standby when 
they's sickness." The speaker's 
voice trembled to breaking. 

"She is a downright good girl. I 
always set store by Abby. Well, 
when the one that's nearest to you's 
gone, you can't think too much of 
them that supported you in the 
hour of 'fliction. I know. She's a 
mother in Israel, Abigail is, though 
perhaps that isn't appropriate, seein' 
she's an old maid ; however, they do 
say she's had chances." 

Mr. Pettibone, lifting his eyes 
for the first time, glanced at the 
clock, and thereby derived more 
than an impression of Mrs. Hollis- 
ter. She presented herself as a per- 
son whose dimensions were out of 

proportion to the "Boston rocker" 
in which she was seated ; comely 
withal, with a florid complexion and 
still abundant hair. Her attire ap- 
peared fashionable and even expen- 
sive to his uncritical eyes. There 
was a pause, which he broke hesi- 
tatingly, yet with a certain anima- 
tion, as though relishing a bit of 
gossip. "They say she's going to 
have another chance. Did you ever 
hear of Bert Griswold? Well, he's 
on his way East and I'll bet a York 
shilling it's her he's after." 

Mrs. Hollister dropped her knit- 
ting. "I want to' know if that man's 
a widower again ! I knew his first 
wife slightly — she that was a Fair- 
weather. Well, she always enjoyed 
poor health, come to think of it. 
She wrote me once, after they 
moved to Detroit. I never see such 
a letter," she cried, casting to the 
winds the education acquired under 
Miss Ames. "There wan't no gram- 
mar in it ! She didn't say much ; 
only that she liked. I shouldn't 
like ; Detroit's too far from Burl- 
ington. Well, I feel to rejoice that 
Abby has prospects — if you can call 
him 'prospects' — lame, and a Demo- 

Somewhat ashamed at having de- 
parted from the highway of digni- 
fied conversation, Mr. Pettibone re- 
traced his steps. "How are crops, 
over East?" 

"There was quite a burden of hay 
on our place. Apples are skerce, 
though you wouldn't have expected 
it, the blowth was so heavy. Buck- 
wheat's lookin' splendid. As for 
oats, the yield ought to be fine ; but 
I guess my share won't amount to 
much. I left four of the most shift- 
less cattle cuttin', that ever walked 
on two legs. I declare ! Some- 
times I think four Frenchmen 



haven't as much brains as one chip- 
munk. I presume they're lazin' 
around now: oft* at a circus or some 
kind of a spero. A widow-woman's 
always imposed on. When he was 
alive there wan't a better farm in 
Addison County. He kept it up 
J. I declare! I wouldn't live 
with a man who didn't keep his 
farm up; I'd get a bill !" 

"Why Emeline!" Mrs. Pomeroy 

protested. Then, as if thinking 

aloud, she added. "Well, your bank 

•ant's big enough, oats or no 


Mrs. Hollister made a depreca- 
gesture, but so feebly that the 
truth of the statement was attested. 
Mr. Pettibone had shifted his posi- 
tion. It had seemed to him almost 
indecorous to listen to this detail. 

''Five hundred acres is about all 
I can 'tend to," he said. "It's a 
goodly heritage ! They's a little 
wet laud on it; but when I get my 
dreens in, that'll be worth as much 
as the rest. I've drawed enough 
stone off since I've had the place to 
build a mountain's high as Camel's 
Hump, and I've put up a sight of 
new fences this year, but I'm be- 
holden to no man for the money I 

Mrs. Hollister was impressed by 
this evidence of thrift, and "I want 
to know!" was on her tongue, but 
she repressed the exclamation. 

"Must be mortal discouraging," 
pursued Mr. Pettibone, "to work a 
farm that's all eat up with mort- 

"Mine hasn't any mortgages on 
it," Mr-. Hollister said, as though 
his remark had been personal. "Not 
a mortgage!" Running a forefinger 
down tin- loops of her needle, she 
held the piece of work at arm's 
length, her head on one side, and. 

observed, casually, "Of course, with 
your sons and plenty of other men- 
folks to help you it don't make any 
difference whether it's ploughin' or 
thrashin' time, or whether chores 
are light or heavy." 

"I haven't any sons," Mr. Petti- 
bone answered, dropping his head 
lower, "or any daughters, for that 
matter. I've got a drove of French- 
men, too, and I have to learn them 
a lot." There was a pause. Mrs. 
Hollister smoothed her knitting 
over her lap. "Yes, it's a goodly 
heritage," he repeated. "There isn't 
a better farm between Peacham and 
Ticonderogy. Sometimes I wish it 
wan't so far from church." 

Mrs. Hollister's needles stopped 
clicking. "What persuasion are 
you ?" 


She relapsed again. "You be ! 
Now isn't that interestin'? So'm I. 
Why I guess we'll have to shake 
hands !" Mr. Pettibone blushing 
deeply, advanced t0 4 receive a grip 
that well nigh staggered him. He 
seemed to himself to be given un- 
due importance. It came to him 
with regret that he had no necktie 

"I tell my good friends here," the 
widow laughed, "the Cong'gation'- 
lists '11 get into Heaven, of course; 
but they'll find the front seats 
chock-full of Methodists ! Now you 
might think to look at me, I was a 
pillar (she shook the rocking chair 
with laughter) I guess I could hold 
up most any roof, steeple and all, 
but I tell you, I'm a good deal 
more than a well-wisher. Why, I 
sung in the choir for twenty years." 

A smile made itself visible among 
the wrinkles on Mr. Pettibone's 
face. "Did?" he chirped, "why, so 
did I!" 



"Now, isn't that interestin'? I 
ain't the worst singer in old Ver- 
mont, now," she added, rather co- 
quettishly, "though I haven't sung 
with anybody for quite a spell. 
Haven't you got some hymn-books 
layin' 'round, Louisa, or did Olive 
take 'em to college with her?" 

She frowned as she examined the 
pile laid in her lap. "I never could 
abide your Congo hymns ! They're 
too dignified and too gloomy. Mercy 
to us ! Just look at 'em ! 'Wind- 
ham !' 'Federal Street !' They give 
me the creeps ! Now, what I like is 
somethin' that sends your soul 
clean out of your body," and forth- 
with she burst into song. "I mount! 
I fly!" throwing her arms up by 
way of illustration. The rocking- 
chair lurched back so far, as she 
gestured, that her feet literally left 
the floor, revealing the embarrass- 
ing fact that her shoes were unbut- 
toned. Mrs. Pomeroy bent .double, 
her hand clapped over her mouth ; 
but Mr. Pettibone, though his 
cheeks matched the cactus blos- 
soms, apparently saw nothing but a 
"farmer's wreath" on the opposite 
wall ; gazing at it with the intent 
expression of one who beholds that 
species of interior decoration for 
the first time. 

"Here's somethin' like!" said 
Mrs. Hollister, her equilibrium re- 
covered. "Gospel Hymns" and with 
moistened thumb she rustled the 
leaves. "Where's 'Beulah Land'? 
Oh here! 

'I've reached the land of corn and 
wine !' June Chittenden says she 
wishes the man who wrote that, 
had left out 'wine' (she's strict 
temperance) but I do' know as 
'cider' would have been any better, 
and what could you get to rhyme 
with it? I can't for the life of me 

think of anything but 'spider.' But 
I'm takin' up time in meetin'. 
Come, Brother Pettibone, draw up 
close to the lamp and we'll have a 
real good old-fashioned camp-meet- 
in' time. You do-re-mi-do, and set 
the pitch." 

He dragged his chair across the 
floor and sat beside her. Who could 
resist this kindly soul? Though 
burdened with a multiplicity of 
cares she could unselfishly forget 
them in the interest of a stranger. 
Her enthusiasm communicated it- 
self. It was almost exciting to hold 
his half of the book; almost intoxi- 
cating to inhale the odor from her 
handkerchief, suggesting the high- 
est-priced perfumery in the show- 
case in the Monkton Ridge store. 

There was more than one audi- 
tor, now, though the vocalists were 
unconscious of the fact, for Deacon 
Pomeroy had crept in and, under 
cover of the huge stove, sat hand- 
in-hand with his wife, beating time 
with his foot to the annoyance of a 
grey kitten on his knees. From 
time to time the white-haired couple 
exchanged glances ; their thoughts 
busy in the background of the long 
years perhaps; perhaps, in the fore- 
ground of the immediate present. 

Soprano and baritone, the voices 
rose and soared, not without an oc- 
casional quaver, due to the ravages 
of time, and almost drowned by the 
shrilling of the canary. Mr. Petti- 
bone lagged a little toward the end 
of the hymn and at its close was 
breathless; not so Mrs. Hollister, 
who having reached the high notes 
with a brave effort, was now pant- 
ing to sustain her reputation. 
"Good land," she exclaimed, as she 
fanned herself with the covers of 
"Gospel Hymns," "the idea of us 
Methodists usin' a book when we 


know everything by heart! Let's 
try "Christian Racer'; and having 
set her own pitch, away she went. 

"Run Christian racer, run. 
For short is now the day!" 

Again the voices soared, without 
the canary's accompaniment, though 
indignant peeps proceeded from his 

ge, now swathed in a dish- towel. 
This time, ardor and achievement 
were not synonymous in Mrs. Hol- 
lister's case. Outdistancing her 
companion in the first and second 
verso-, she fell back to his pace in 
the third, and finished huskily. 

"Guess we'll have to rest up a 
spell," she reluctantly confessed. 
"If you sing like this now, Brother 
Pettibone, you must have been a 
master-hand in your young days. I 
declare! you kept up good! I've 
sung with lots of folks that hadn't 
any more spring to 'em than a 

The resting time was brief, for 
her favorite hymns w<ere crowding 
upon Mrs. Hollister's memory, "I 
know 'The Camp Meetin' Minstrel' 
backwards," she said; and with her 
voice on a lower key she started 
afresh ; 

"Our bondage here shall end, 
By and by ! By and by!" 

Mr. Pettibone followed gallantly 
but now and then his voice weak- 
ened, the emitted sounds suggesting 
the rasping of an aged katydid. Her 
safe return from this last ascent en- 
couraged .Mrs. Hollister to plume 
rings for another. "Let's try 
e the trumpet, blow!' No, 
I'll tell you; 'Bower of Prayer.' It's 
sad, bul I .always thought it 
edifyin', and it's sort of appro- 
priate on this occasion, 'cause I'm 
goin' home tomorrow." 

"To leave my dear friends, and with 
neighbors to part." 

It was her swan-song in truth, 
for Mr. Pettibone was limp in his 
chair, but it was not wholly tri- 
umphant, and "flatting" at the fin- 
ish, she, too, fell back exhausted. 

"My grief!" Mr. Pettibone cried, 
starting up, "it's nine o'clock, and 
I've got a lot of chores to do. Well, 
Sister Hollister, I'm pleased to have 
met you. I've had a grand good 
time ! 

■"Don't hurry, Wesley!" said Dea- 
con Pomeroy. "We haven't had any 
music in the house since our Olive 
left, and it's been like manna to a 
hungry soul. You must come 
again soon, anyway. Now we've 
induced Mrs. Hollister to make a 
pilgrimage, we're going to keep her 

"Hear the man talk!" that lady 
retorted. "You'd think I hadn't a 
thousand things to look after, or a 
social at our church — I promised 
'em layer cake — or the dressmaker 
expectin' me. She's so drove she's 
engaged two weeks ahead and I 
was lucky to get her. No, I said I 
was goin' tomorrow and tomorrow r 
I'm goin'. You don't know the 
Fiskes, or the Durkees (that was 
mother's family). When they put 
their foot down, they put it down. 
Well, good-by, Brother Pettibone! 
How surprised Abigail'll be when 
she hears I've been visitin' with, 
you ! Though I shan't let on for 
quite a spell, who it was. I hope 
that girl isn't makin' a mistake. 
Well, she's old enough to know her 
own mind, and she won't have to 
consult any gardeen. I know one 
thing, and that is, that if Bert 
Griswold's got his wives' coffin- 
plates hangin' in the parlor, they 
won't stay, after Abby takes hold." 



Mr. Pettibone's lantern was soon 
twinkling down the road. By the 
time it had dwindled to a spark, 
Mrs. Hollister had lifted a corner 
of the paper window-shade to peer 
into the night. 

"I believe to my soul, it's goin' to 
storm," she cried. "Louisa, what 
did I say on that postal card I sent 
Hannah Palmer?" 

"Why, Emeline! How do I 
know? I didn't read it, of course." 

"Well, I wonder if I said she 
might expect me tomorrow or the 
day after." 

"I hate to think of your going 
back to that lonely house; cold, and 
nothing cooked, ready." 

"Mercy to us ! It won't take me 
a minute to light the fire ; it's all 
ready, and there's a loaf of bread 
and two pies in the closet. I hope 
no tramps have broken in. Well, 
if they have, they've discovered that 
there isn't a fly in the house,. and the 
straw carpets are clean enough to 
eat off of, and I can use a white 
table cloth if I want to. I've got 
em to spare." 

"Do stay a day or two longer,'' 
Mrs. Pomeroy urged. "You people 
over at the Ridge don't really know 
how old Lake Champlain looks, and 

if he can spare a horse I want to 
drive you to Cedar Point tomorrow. 
We pass the Pettibone place on the 
way, and I want you to see it, it's 
so sightly." 

"Brother Pettibone's kind o' 
meechin'," said Mrs. Hollister, "but 
he's reel agreeable, and reel spry 
for his years. He must have been 
quite a pretty man in his youth. 
He's fore-handed, that's evident. I 
presume he's well fixed, though I 
haven't the least cur'osity in the 

"He is, indeed." 

"Well — I do' know. May be I 
could stay over another day. Come 
to think of it, the dressmaker sent 
me word she'd have to put me off 
till Monday. She's sprained her left 
limb and's housed up." 

Matchmaking was far from Mrs. 
Pomeroy's thoughts, but her final 
suggestion savored of it : "Perhaps 
if we stopped at Mr. Pettibone's, 
he'd take us out in his boat." 

"Well there!" Mrs. Hollister ex- 
claimed. "You're a masterhand for 
ideas ! I guess I will stay over. I'll 
sit down this minute and write 
Hannah another postal, so Baptiste 
can take it when he goes up with 
the milk-wagon." 






Founded 1758 

Published monthly at 
8 Dix Place. Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 

Editor, Winthrof Packard. 


United States, Canada and Mexico 

$3.00 per year 
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Remit by draft on Boston, Express or 
Post Office Order, payable to 

New England Magazine. 

Ossawattamie Brown 

FIFTY years ago on the thirtieth 
of August old John Brown, 

"Ossawattamie Brown" as the 
nation later learned to call him 
with reverent familiarity, was fight- 
ing one of his memorable great lit- 
tle battles at the Kansas town of 

iwattamie. It was a little bat- 
tle inasmuch as it occurred between 
merely forty-one Free-soilers and 
about four hundred Missourians and 
the prize, on the face of it, was sim- 
ply the possession of a frontier 
town in a sparsely settled region. 
It was a great battle inasmuch as it 
turned the rising tide of slavery sen- 
ent in Kansas, showed the Free- 
soilers that a strong leader and 
a mighty purpose could prevail 
against numbers, and was one more 
mighty blow for the freedom of a 

pivotal state. Had Brown, lost at 
Lawrence and at Ossawattamie, had 
he failed to put the fear of God into 
the hearts of the cruel and unscrup- 
ulous invaders from Missouri, who 
were themselves but the tools of the 
more unscrupulous political coterie 
who then held the reins of the na- 
tional government at Washington, 
Kansas would have been a pro- 
slavery state and the progress of a 
great cause delayed. 

It is fitting that there should be 
recognition of this great little bat- 
tle and Vice President Fairbanks 
and a distinguished company will 
attend the celebration held to com- 
memorate the fiftieth anniversary. 
Ossawattamie is proud of its con- 
nection with Brown and his mighty 
deeds for freedom just as New Eng- 
land is proud of him, he having 
been born here, of Puritan forbears, 
in 1800, in a quaint little house in 
the western part of Torrington, Con- 
necticut, six miles from Litchfield. 
In Brown's own autobiography, a 
charmingly simple narrative written 
to Henry L. Stearns of Medford 
when Stearns was a lad of thirteen, 
Brown dwells with pride on the an- 
cestry from which he sprang. An 
ancestor "on the side of his father 
was one of the company of the May- 
flower, who landed at Plymouth in 
1620. His mother was descended 
from a man who came at an early 
period to 1 New England from Am- 
sterdam in Holland. Both his fath- 
er's and his mother's father's 
(Brown's own spelling and gram- 
mar) served in the war of the Revo- 

When John Brown was five years 
old his family moved to Ohio and 
there, when he was eight his mother 
died. This loss Brown describes in 
his autobiography as "complete and 



permanent, for notwithstanding his 
father again married a sensible, in- 
telligent and on many accounts a 
very estimable woman, yet he never 
adopted her in feeling, but continued 
to pine after his own mother for 

It was during the war of 1812 
that Brown, although a boy, deter- 
mined on "eternal war with slav- 
ery." The occasion was the sight 
of a negro lad of his own age beaten 
before his eyes with iron shovels by 
his master, with whom young 
Brown was staying as a guest. 

Of what Brown may have done in 
a quiet way to follow out the inspir- 
ation thus early received we have 
no record during a period of thirty- 
six years. Neither he nor the times 
were ripe for the great deeds he was 
later to do. He was forty-eight years 
old before we find him taking the 
first definite step toward the fulfil- 
ment of his mission. Meanwhile he 
became a business man and at one 
time bade fair to become a capital- 
ist. He returned from the west, 
established a successful wool busi- 
ness in Springfield, Massachusetts, 
took trips abroad in the interest of 
the business and, whatever the in- 
ward workings of his mind may 
have been, outwardly seems to have 
almost settled down into the ordi- 
nary, smug, successful merchant. 
All this was changed, however, by 
an offer made by Gerritt Smith, the 
agrarian emancipationist, with the 
desire of helping negroes. On Au- 
gust 1, 1846, the anniversary of 
West India emancipation, Smith 
proffered one hundred thousand 
acres of his wild land in New York 
to such colored families, fugitive 
slaves or citizens of New York, as 
would occupy and cultivate them in 
small farms. Two years later, 

when a few of these families had es- 
tablished themselves in the Adiron- 
dack wilderness, John Brown pro- 
posed to Mr. Smith that he should 
take up land at North Elba, New 
York, just across the mountains 
from Vermont, and direct this col- 

"I am something of a pioneer," 
he explained. "I grew up among 
the woods and wild Indians of Ohio 
and am used to the climate and the 
ways of life that your colony find 
so trying. I will take one of your 
farms myself, clear it up and plant 
it and show my colored neighbors 
how such work should be done. I 
will give them work as I have occa- 
sion, look after them in all needful 
ways and be a kind of father to 

Smith gladly accepted this offer, 
with the result that in 1848-49 
Brown, while still engaged in his 
wool business, removed a part of 
his family from Springfield to North 
Elba, where they remained much of 
the time until 1864. Here they 
lived while he was attacking slav- 
ery in Kansas, Missouri and Vir- 
ginia. Brown himself fell in love 
with the region and in 1850 built 
the house near which his grave is 
to-day to be found sheltered by an 
enormous boulder which year by 
year becomes more and more the 
mecca toward which turn the feet of 
the hero worshipper, seeking the 
shrine of the simple, brave, great 
man. Out of the wilderness came 
the voice that was to lead him on. 

The call had come to John Brown. 
It may be that he needed the high 
clear spaces of the Adirondack wild- 
erness in which to hear it. It may 
be that he needed to dwell among 
these slaves but lately freed from 
the lash to have the full depths of 



their suffering and degradation 
touch him. It may be simply that 
in the providence of God the first 
stroke of the fateful hour was al- 
ready ringing through the universe 
and Brown's was but one of a thou- 
sand souls that were timed to hear 
it. There was this difference, how- 
ever, between Brown and the others. 
His was the spirit that utterly 
dared. Others gave of their wealth, 
of their eloquence, of their worldly 
wisdom and their social influence. 
He gave what he had of these, but 
he gave infinitely more. He was 
the conductor of their scattered 
lightnings. Their mutterings, their 
fitful flashes he gathered into thun- 
der crashes and bolts that burst in 
utter destruction and lighted the 
land with flame. They dealt in ar- 
gument and pretext, he in sudden 
death. For more than a half score 
of years he was the sword with 
which the Abolitionists fought and, 
in proof that he alone was the man 
who utterly dared we have the sad 
record that, in autumn of 1859, m 
the final thunder crash of his career 
when the bright blade was being 
broken in the hands of the Phillis- 
tines, no one of them came forward 
with an equal courage and self-sacri- 
fice to even boldly attempt his res- 

On the second of December, 1859, 
Brown's body swung from the gal- 
lows. His soul went marching on, 
southward, into the camp of the evil 
which he had fought to subdue, and 
and a half million brave men 
swung into line behind it, following 
its flame to final complete victory. 

Many of the Abolitionists fought 
with sword and bayonet in these 
ranks. Others continued to do the 
talking, at a safe distance as they 
bad done before. 


Anti-Auto Nantucket 

T may be that Nantucket, the pur- 
ple island of the poets, shall be 
known to grateful thousands in 
the future as the palladium of our 
liberties. For Nantucket has kicked 
out the automobile. The sturdy 
islanders held town meeting, right 
in the middle of the heated term, 
though that's not so bad in Nan- 
tucket. Only the spray of the heat 
waves reaches the right little tight 
little isle. At this town meeting 
they voted by an overwhelming 
majority to exclude from the island 
all motor propelled vehicles. All 
the world may be motor mad, but 
there are a few of us left, old-fash- 
ioned remnants of a decadent stock 
no doubt, who view the trolley car 
with suspicion, the motor car with 
distrust, and long for some safe ref- 
uge, some haven, from both of 
them. Not that we would have 
them abolished; that would be an 
infringement on the liberties of the 
other fellow. Trolley cars indeed 
have their uses. If you have an 
appointment in a neighboring city 
that you are morally bound to keep 
and don't wish to, you can take a 
trolley car. The steam cars are of 
no particular use in matters of this 
sort. They arrive. But a nice ada- 
mantine seated trolley car, well 
equipped with a flat wheel and a 
crazy immigrant motorman — you'll 
find them on most any cross-coun- 
try service — may be depended upon 
either to get you to the wrong town 
or land you in the right one too late 
for the regretted appointment. Mo- 
tor cars are useful along similar 
lines but in more vigorous fashion 
as befits the latest mechanical mir- 
acle in locomotion. Many motor 
cars, instead of being behind hand, 



arrive ahead of time and with such 
vigor of impact that the man anx- 
ious to keep his regretted appoint- 
ment keeps it in the next world in- 
stead of the next city. 

This too is of value to the com- 
munity. The motor car is the swift- 
est means of locomotion yet de- 
vised. It will take you from Hull 
to Heaven in almost no time; all 
you have to do is to turn the gyra- 
tion lever, or whatever these mad 
motorists call it, in the unintended 
direction. That's if you are a Bos- 
tonian, of course. If you are a 
New Yorker the motor car will take 
you from Harlem to Hades in an 
equally brief space of time. The 
destination differs according to the 
class of the traveller, but the trip is 
an equally quick one. 

There are those of us, however, 
who do not care to arrive at either 
of the two destinations aforemen- 
tioned ahead of our appointment. 
We will admit that we have been 

worried. If the flat wheeled, im- 
migrant driven trolley car didn't 
catch us it always seemed as if the 
motor car might slip up from be- 
hind it and win in the finish by a 
neck — our neck and our finish. 
Now, however, a haven invites us. 
If the trolleys invade every lane, as 
they bid fair to if they only bid 
high enough in this age of corrup- 
tion, and the motors take to cutting 
across lots, as they do every time 
the reverse suction fails to connect 
with the anti-kamnia volt detacher, 
why we can simply retire to Nan- 
tucket — by boat, thank Heaven ! 
and find safe retreat from all these 

One thing more might be done 
though it is a shame to ask it of the 
brave islanders. They might vote 
to hang any man who is caught 
bringing a phonograph to the island. 
But that would make the place a 
heaven instead of a haven, too much 
to be asked for in one hot summer. 

Tickle-Town Topics 

The Red Ear 

By Daisy Wright Field 

Pleasures? Yes, there's lots of them 

Scattered 'long life's track, 
But they always brighter shine 

When you're looking back! 
Seems to me I yet can feel 

Something thumpin' here 
In my breast, — as when I found 

That first crimson ear! 

Long in secret I had loved 

Nellie, sitting nigh. 
Bashful? I should think I was: 

She was just as shy! 
Shelling corn beside the fire — ■ 

No one else was near — 
Trembled I with sudden hope , 

When I found that ear. 

Dare I? Nellie's head was bent, — 

Sweet and modest girl ! 
While a tiny red ear peeped 

From behind a curl. 
Suddenly I caught her close; 

"Nell, I love you, dear!" 
Kissing her for every grain 

On the big red ear ! 

Tried to stay away a week; 

Life was too forlorn! 
So T came again to help 

Nellie shell the corn. 
Soon she brought the basket, heaped 

1 o her sunny head, 
Over-turned it at my feet — 

Fvery ear was red ! 

Uncle Josh 

By Arlo Barlow 

Said Uncle Josh with cheerful grin, 
As one whose word holds naught to 
doubt ; 
"In fifteen minutes I pulled in, 
Just thirty-three and a third brook 

"Oh come ! oh say now ! Uncle Josh, 

To tell such stories is a sin. 
The thirty-three might not be bosh, 

But say, where does the third come in?" 

And Uncle Josh just wagged his chin, 
As one who on the question reckoned, 

And said : "Where should the third come 
But just the next behind the second?" 



By Grace Stone Field 

She's a bow in her hair, and bows on her 

And tiniest shoes, I should say about two's. 
Those bewildering bows 
Were to blame, goodness knows ! 
For 'twixt bow in her hair and bow on 

her shoe, 
My wits went askew. 
Now would you suppose, 
When I meant to propose 
I could be so astray 
As to say, "Susan pray 
May I be your beau?" 
Well I did, do you know, 
And I'm telling you true ; 
All that Sue said, was "Shoo!" 

White Mountain Legends 

By J. S. English 

"Chocorua" , , 

THE White Mountains, have 
well deserved the title now 
so generally bestowed upon 
them; "The Marvelous Crystal 
Hills." Caverns, precipitous cliffs 
and ravines, appalling, yet attractive 
in their awful grandeur, and the 
pastoral vision of fresh mountain 
brooks and verdant valleys, trick- 
ling cascades, water falls and im- 
posing yet alluring mountain peaks 
have thrilled with interest the visit- 
or to a region where nature masses 
all her wonders. 

Superbly grand and gorgeous is 
the vista, yet he who is acquainted 
with the hallowed memories which 
repose in those lofty peaks, the tales 
which have sprung from those cav- 
ous depths, or the primitive asso- 
ciations of the silvery cascades and 
waterfalls, woven together in the 
sacred legends and lore of a savage 
nation, will say that his vision is 
broader and his perception plainer. 
As the sunlight unfolds to the eye 
a view of charms rare in their mag- 
nificence — so in the dark and hidden 
recesses, where the eye must hesi- 
tate, the mind's vision lays bare the 
secrets of the long ago pictured in 
the sunlight setting of the present. 

Barren and bleak, rugged and for- 
bidding, the peak of Chocorua 
looms like a temple tower or a for- 
tress, such as giants in ancient 
times erected in their wars against 

the gods. Utterly devoid of vege- 
tation, the gray summit flanked by 
the other domes of the Sandwich 
Range which lie around, speaks 
plainly of a day centuries gone, 
when the tales of the Red Sokokis 
were born within its rocky breast. 

Chocorua, although 3,540 feet in 
height, grows nothing but Alpine 
vegetation, and the bald, sharp sum- 
mit has a narrow ridge much lower 
than the summit running to the 
northeast. Deep ravines and denies 
mark the mountain side. It is very 
accessible, being approached by 
carriage, foot and bridle paths, to a 
spur upon which a shelter house 
has been built; but the last stage of 
the journey to the summit must be 
made on foot, as the remainder of 
the route is entirely over steep 
ledges. From the summit, like a 
pinnacle tower, one can look over 
the entire wilderness. Chocorua 
has not changed, thus she appeared 
when first the white man entered 
her forest. 

At the advent of the early set- 
tlers, the Sokokis, a numerous and 
powerful Indian tribe, were in pos- 
session of the country now compris- 
ing Northern New Hampshire and 
the Maine border land. Chocorua, 
who lived in the neighborhood of 
the mountain was chief of a mighty 
tribe. He had watched the white 
man's ingress and had battled for 
the land of his fathers ; but, as the 
settlers advanced, he retreated into 
the wild fastnesses of the forest, 



among the mountains, and here would protect the red man in his 
with the remnants of his tribe he wars and guide him in the chase, 
lived for a time unharassed and un- The heart of Chocorua was big, and 

hampered by the pale-face. Tall 
and shapely, like the other chiefs of 
his race, but more powerful than 
all others, he roamed the forests, a 
monarch. He hunted the deer and 
the moose, furnished his tepee with 
the skins of the bear, trapped the 
beaver and the mink and speared 
the salmon. Powerful in the coun- 
cils of his nation, he was a warrior 
of renown. Already he had faced 
the white man's powder and his 
scalp locks were many. He had 
seen his land encroached upon, his 
supply of game and food wantonly 
destroyed and the "Black Robe" 
had entered to dispel his hopes of a 

at the council fires he spoke to the 
young braves, infused them with 
tales of his prowess and the record 
of their tribe and bade them listen 
only to the voice of the Manitou 
and heed the advice of the wise 
men. They had been driven back 
by the white settlers, while the 
Great Spirit slept, but when Mani- 
tou awoke from his slumbers and 
spoke in his voice of thunder from 
the peak of the mountain he would 
direct the Indians how to drive the 
invaders from their lands. 

Chocorua had a son, a young boy 
of twelve who gamboled and fro- 
licked with the papooses, but as 

Great Spirit, a Gitche Manitou who lithe and agile as a fawn. Sturdy in 



limb, a robust little fellow, dexter- 
ous in his use of the bow and arrow, 
oftentimes he followed his father in 
the chase, climbing the cliffs in 
search of eagles' eggs, bounding 
over rocky ledges, scrambling up the 
mountain sides in pursuit of the 
moose or padding his bark canoe 
over the still waters of the lake. 
Ever watchful of this young "lion," 
untamed and savage, careless as the 
panther which leaped from limb to 
limb, Chocorua looked with loving 
eyes on the stalwart shape of his 
young son. He pictured the time 
when the sinews in those arms 
would stand out like his own, when 
that hearing already acute would 
rival that of the animals which he 
hunted, when the features which 
now relaxed and smiled would be- 

come as strong and impassive as his 
own brown coutenance, when the 
scalp axe would dangle at his belt 
and, decorated in the glories of his 
war paint, the son of Chocorua 
would go forth a brave. Ah then ! 
then would the voice of the Great 
Spirit in tones of thunder direct the 
red man and again would the Soko- 
kis be the most powerful among the 

Every day Chocorua would jour- 
ney to the mountain top to beseech 
the Manitou and from this tower he 
would scan the horizon. Great was 
his surprise one day to see beyond 
the tepees of his tribe, curls of blue 
smoke arising. Gazing intently, his 
keen eyes observed that the volume 
of smoke came not from the wig- 
wam of an Indian but from the fire 



X E W E N G L A N D M A G A Z I X E 

of a pale-face. Long and earnestly 
did Chocorua watch the wreaths of 
blue smoke as they ascended to the 
clouds. The white man had again 
invaded his domains! Chocorua 
was sad. 

Settlors had surely come; ere 
long a few cabins were erected and 
the white invaders industriously 
commenced to till the ground and 
cultivate the fields. Fearful of the 
white man's power, yet distrustful 
of his purpose, the Indians were by 
no means friendly, yet through fear 
they were held in abeyance. Cho- 
corua showed no sign of enmity, 
rather he seemed to cultivate the 
friendship of the pale-faces, for he 
gave them of his corn, bartered with 
pelts and skins for their goods, and 
in other ways was amicably dis- 
posed. His little son had learned 
to like the ways of the "white 
squaw" and in the white man's wig- 
wam many a sweet bit he received 
from the good housewife. Almost 
every day he called but he was 
neglecting none the less his savage 
lessons, for the forest was his play- 
ground and the hunt his sport. One 
day as he visited the house he found 
on the table a cup which he sup- 
posed contained coffee and of which 
he became very fond. He raised it 
to his lips and drank the contents. 
Instantly he became ill and the 
good woman hurrying to the scene 
discovered the cause — the cup had 
contained poison. 

He was tenderly removed to the 
wigwam of Chocorua. The medi- 
cine men were called and their po- 
tions and charms administered but 
to no avail. With the stoical de- 
nor of his race, the boy related 
the cause of his trouble and with 
face utterly inexpressive of pain or 
emotion he answered willingflv as 

he had been taught, the message of 
the Great Spirit. Chocorua strode 
from his wigwam, his countenance 
unchanged ; but in his heart was the 
culmination of a long frustrated de- 
sire — revenge ! death ! The white 
man had followed him ! he had 
plucked from his bosom the fire of 
his life, the hope of his race! He 
had murdered his father, his broth- 
ers, and his child! The Manitou 
had spoken ! He could hear his 
voice in the winds. The time had 
come; the accursed pale-faces must 
die and their scalps would dangle 
at his belt ! First he must appease 
the Great Spirit and satisfy the 
cravings of his heart — revenge for 
his son ! Silently wending his way 
through the forests to the cabin of 
the settler, Chocorua halted in the 
distance and than patiently waited 
for the departure of the husband. 
Yes, he must kill first the baby and 
the mother; and then after the hus- 
band had viewed their scalpless 
bodies, his scalp too would follow. 
At length the husband departed, 
Furtively watching and waiting, 
Chocorua crept toward the door, 
and then with a bound and an ex- 
ultant war whoop the tomahawk 
descended — mother and child lay 
lifeless. The father returned to find 
the mutilated bodies of his family. 
He loaded his rifle and departed 
from the house. He wandered to 
the wigwam of Chocorua ; the chief 
was absent. All night he waited in 
ambush but no return. In the 
morning he journeyed up the moun- 
tain and when near the summit the 
white man and the chief of the So- 
kokis met face to face. The muz- 
zle of the white man's rifle met the 
Indian's breast! Backward, step by 
step, Chocorua was forced until he 
reached the summit; then standing 



on the edge of the precipice, the 
Indian with eyes aflame and in a 
voice of wrath said, "Chocorua will 
go no further ! He bids the white 
man defiance! Chocorua will go to 
the Great Spirit with the scalps of 
the white man's squaw and his pa- 
poose ! He will hunt and shoot and 
fish in the Happy Hunting Grounds 
with his son and his fathers !" Then 
his eyes flashed in a look of de- 
fiance, the pent up hatred of his 
heart shone in his bronze features, 
his chest rose and heaved and rais- 
ing his hand he spoke thus, "Cho- 
corua curses the pale-face and his 
children; his curse and the curse of 
his Manitou on the white man's 
cattle! May the drought come on 
his crops ! May the earth burn 
under him and may the red man's 
revenge follow him forever ! Cho- 
corua will die, but not by the white 
man's cannon !" and the warrior 
chief turned and sprang from the 
precipice into the frightful abyss be- 
low ! 

The white settler left the vicinity 
and wandered no one knows where. 
The Indians for a long time were 
unmolested; but pestilence and war- 
fare gradually depopulated the So- 
kokis. They no longer remained 
the powerful and war-like tribe of 
former years. Eventually, white 
settlers came to Albany at the foot 
of Chocorua Mountain but the 
land was unsuited for crops and the 
cattle who grazed in the vicinity 
and drank from the water died in a 
short while. The land where the 
white man and the Indian met is a 
barren spot while the soil and for- 
est about the peak years since were 
devastated by fire ; and mountain 
cranberries, dwarfed blue berries 
and Alpine vegetation which can 
flourish in the crevices of the rock, 

are the only flora to be found on the 
summit. Scientists say that the 
lime formation from the rocks has 
poisoned the water; but tradition 
says the curse of Chocorua remains 
on the region. 

Sacred to the Indians was the 
vicinity of Chocorua after the death 
of the chief, and Chocorua Lake 
was looked upon as the Manitou's 
blessed water. And woe be unto 
him, whose voice was heard over 
its waters, for the wrath of the 
Great Spirit was such that instantly 
the offender and his canoe would 
sink to the bottom of the lake. 


Legend of Eagle Mountains 

Between Ellis River and Wild 
Cat Brook, one of the most dashing 
and beautiful of the mountain 
streams, lie the Eagle Mountains, a 
low range, in places very craggy 
and rocky, named from the eagles 
who inhabited the upper cliffs in 
large number. 

Early in the seventeenth century 
when the colony of Massachusetts 
Puritans, frantic in their religious 
zeal were industriously engaged 
cutting the ears off peaceful Quak- 
ers and banishing from the colony 
all who dared to worship God in a 
manner contrary to their com- 
mands, there lived among them 
one Thomas Crage a man of sound 
common sense and good Christian 
ideals. Very happy in his new home 
with his young wife and child of 
six, he cared little for the religious 
turmoil within the colony. Being a 
man of a very honest and independ- 
ent nature, he naturally rebuked all 
attempts whatsoever at interfer- 
ence with his personal affairs. His 
wife Avas a voungf and handsome 


y^y^ii^jjt'^^ ' ^Sfr 

^pv^pp^^j ^ 

iL. * * 

^S . .J 1 

a*. •*< ■- .. 


woman, devotedly attached to her 
husband and child. She cared little 
for the gossips of the town and 
found plenty to keep her mind oc- 
cupied in attending to her own af- 
fairs. However, this happy family 
was not to pass unmolested. Mind- 
ing ones own business in those days 
was considered a suspicious trait 
and the beauty of the young wife 
had already attracted attention. 
Surely no woman could possess 
such comely features unless be- 
witched by the evil spirit! The gos- 
sips gadded and observed as they 
went from house to house, the 
learned minister and the town au- 
thorities talked the matter over, and 
dark hints were thrown out about 
Crage and her husband. 
The doughty little Pilgrim disdained 

to notice their slander and the stal- 
wart husband would have laid low 
the person who dared refer to these 
dark reproaches in his presence. 

The wicked slanderous tongues of 
these religious rattlesnakes were 
fast doing their work. The poison 
had been carefully spread and these 
pious God-fearing wretches who 
had fled from a cruel mother land 
because of its religious persecutions, 
were about to stain the shores of 
this new found Paradise with the 
blood of an innocent woman. 

The Red Skins of the forest some- 
times in their savage and barbarous 
customs propitiated their Great 
Manitou with a human sacrifice. 
Their white brethren, civilized and 
cultured, who appeared shocked ar 
the horrid atrocities of the Indians, 


to do justice to a merciful God who 
had guided them thither, cut off the 
ears and noses of unbelievers and 
branded them with red hot irons ; 
and lastly when their piety had 
reached its highest culmination, they 
too offered human sacrifices in pro- 

Such was the period of New Eng- 
land's real reign of terror, when the 
beautiful and unfortunate Mrs. 
Crage chanced to live. 

Fortunate indeed was the person 
who happened to escape the clutches 
of the Puritanical law. Pleasures 
were proscribed, not because of any 
evil or unholy result which would 
follow, but simply and solely be- 
cause of the enjoyment afforded. 
Mrs. Crage was condemmed as a 
witch because of her beauty. De- 


spite the protests and pleadings of 
her husband, she was hanged as a 

Morose and sorrowful over the 
death of his wife, Thomas Crage 
lived now only for his child. He 
seldom spoke with his neighbors 
and at night after his labors in the 
field were finished he would coddle 
and play with her. 

One day while at work clearing 
his land he was startled to hear 
cries from the child whom he had 
left in the house. He hurried home 
and rushing into the room where 
she had been accustomed to play, 
found it was vacant. Hastily scan- 
ning the surroundings he readily 
understood what had transpired. 
His child was gone, Indians had 
been there and had taken her away. 


With one thought only he followed 
in pursuit, day and night with 
scarcely any food or rest, but no 
trace could he find ot the Indians. 

Wearied and exhausted, he arrived 
among the Pequawket Indians in 
the White Mountains. Diligently 
he searched their tribes and anx- 
[y inquired for the missing 
babe bul to no avail, and not know- 
ing whither to proceed, he rested 

On the southern slope of Eagle 
Mountain in a deep cavern he built 
abin. Strong and healthy, he 
hunted and trapped, living by the 
fruit of his own endeavors. He 
admired by the Indians, who 
first had feared the silent man but 
afterward learned to love him. Al- 
though his heart was filled with 

sorrow, he did not lose hope — he 
rather divined, that one day he 
would find his daughter, and he be- 
lieved that the Indianc had stolen 
her not from any motive of malice 
or revenge, but to give to some 
squaw as was their custom, who- 
had lately lost her own papoose.. 
He was eagerly sought by the In- 
dians for his skill in sickness. His 
long years in the solitude had! 
taught him the use of the various 
herbs and their curative and heal- 
ing powers. Always welcome, yet 
seldom speaking, he was a frequent 
visitor at the Indians' camp fires. 

It happened one day that an An- 
droscoggin from that tribe in Maine, 
journeyed hither. He climbed the 
cliffs in search of eagle feathers 
with which he might decorate his 



chief on his return; but losing his 
footing, he fell and was dashed 
among the rocks. Miraculously, 
he was not killed and the lone hun- 
ter came to his aid. He carried the 
Indian to his cabin ; there mixed 
herbs for a liniment, dressed his 
bruises, reset the broken bones and 
in a month nursed the Indian back 
to health. Departing, the red man 
was filled with gratitude toward the 
hunter. From him he heard of the 
fruitless quest for his missing 
daughter, who had been stolen 
twenty years before. The savage 
determined to aid his "pale-face" 
friend. Prudence was the name 
of the girl and with this name on 
his lip, the Indian strode forth. 

Toward Canada he travelled and 
in a few days he reached the do- 
main of the St. Francis Indians. 

From wigwam to wigwam he jour- 
neyed until he reached the tepee of 
the chief, an aged warrior whose 
furrowed and wrinkled visage and 
snow white locks plainly told the 
trials and tribulations of a century 
of years. At the* door of his tepee 
was a beautiful maiden who was 
directing a band of young warriors 
just returned from the hunt. Queen 
of the tribe, the daughter of the old 
chief, she was a true Indian prin- 
cess. Her voice, her look, her ac- 
tion, her whole manner, portrayed 
the dignity of a ruler, — one accus- 
tomed to command and be obeyed. 
The Androscoggin, in respectful 
manner halted before this beautiful 
Amazon and carefully scrutinizing 
her handsome countenance, in the 
low guttural tone of the Indian, 
speaking in broken English, mur- 




mured the word, "Prudence." Eager- 
ly, the Androscoggin watched the 
effect upon her. For an instant, a 
perplexed look stole over the girl's 
countenance but it immediately 
changed into a gaze of wonder and 
amazement. Her eyes flashed eager- 
ly and curiously and in the St. 
Francis tongue she demanded where 
he had heard that name before. 
For years she had cherished this 
familiar name in her memory, not 
knowing whence it had come, hav- 
ing only a faint recognition of its 
connection with her childhood days. 
The Androscoggin asked her to 
brinof forth the chief, and then seat- 
ing himself beside the old Saga- 
more he related the tale told him 
by the hermit. 

The eyes of the maiden blazed 
with excitement as he proceeded 
and when he related the trials of 
the father they filled with tears. 
The old chief nodded his assent 
when the brave had finished and 
pronounced her name Prudence. 
Under the Indian exterior and man- 
ner was hidden the soul of a white 
woman and she said to the Andros- 
coggin warrior, "Go forth and may 
the Manitou guide thee ! Bring 
back to the wigwam of Chikonimee, 
the great white warrior who is my 
father! Tell him that the Indians 
love the father of Amateka and he 
will be the chief of all the St. Fran- 
cis tribes !" 

The Androscoggin returned to 
Eagle Mountain and finding the 
lone hunter related to him his dis- 
covery. The old man was over- 
joyed to hear from his daughter. 
He baric good-bye to the Pequaw- 
kf.-ts and with four of their warriors 
furnished him as body guard, pro- 
ceeded to the St. Francis Indians. 
rr-ome at the sight of his daugh- 

ter the old man fell on his knees 
and thanked the chief for protecting 
her during all these years. The 
heart of the daughter responded to 
the white man's call; fondly, she 
embraced the old man and pro- 
claimed him "Chief of the Indians 
of the St. Francis." From long 
years in the forest, he had become 
familiar with the various Indian 
tongues and customs and indeed 
looked upon the red men as his 
friends and brothers. 

He was hailed as the great war 
chief of the St. Francis and years 
afterwards when the Indians of 
Massachusetts sought help against 
the white invaders, the "Great 
White Chief" thirsting for revenge, 
with his faithful band swooped 
down upon the settlement formerly 
his home; burned the church and 
carried away the scalps of the min- 
ister and judge who thirty years be- 
fore had hanged a pretty young pil- 
grim wife on the charge of witch- 

Moosilauke and the Pemigewassets 

Of the numerous peaks of the 
White Mountain range, no one, not 
even Mount Washington, with its 
wealth of scenic splendor and leg- 
endary lore, from whose summit 
the Indians' great "Manitou" scat- 
tered his sunbeams and hurled his 
anger in thunderbolts, where now 
tourists gather to gaze in awe and 
wonderment upon the tumbled 
peaks and spurs of the mountains 
and the greenswards of the valleys, 
surpasses in interest and beauty the 
bold pinnacle of old Moosilauke. 

Situated some miles from its 
nearest neighbor, the Franconia 
Range, Moosilauke gazes with a 



sense of superiority at the others 
and looks toward Mount Washing- 
not with less of reverence than dis- 
dain. Supreme ruler of his own do- 
main, 4800 feet above the sea level, 
the highest elevation in New Hamp- 
shire east of Mount Lafayette, he 
seems conscious of fame in the pos- 
session of three distinct peaks. 

The summit is a broad plateau 
of many acres with no big boulders 
such as characterize most of the 
White Mountain peaks. It is above 
the timber line and Alpine plants 
and mountain cranberries constitute 
its only vegetation. On the north 
is a high, broad crest and further 
north is a blue dome, Mount Blue. 
A long narrow ridge joins the north 
peak and the crest. The summit is 
the southern peak and here is lo- 
cated the Tip Top House. On the 

east side of Moosilauke is the Jobil- 
dunk Ravine in the upper part of 
which is the Jobildunk Cascade. On 
the west slope is the head of an 
enormous slide over two thousand 
feet long, at an angle of about forty 
degrees and with a width varying 
from about fifteen to fifty feet. The 
most amazing of the natural won- 
ders of Moosilauke is the vast Am- 
phitheatrical Gulf, near the Benton 
Trail. It is eight hundred feet 
deep and a peculiar feature is that 
this great cavern is literally filled 
with growing trees whose verdure 
seems to suffer not at all from their 
strange location. The summit can 
be reached by three approaches, a 
carriage road from Warren, by a 
bridle path from Benton and by 
foot paths from North Woodstock 
and Warren Summit. 




The view from the summit of 
Moosilauke cannot be surpassed by 
that from Mount Washington. In- 
deed the isolation of this mountain 
from the other peaks gives it a de- 
cided advantage and unlike the 
higher mountains, there is never any 
fog or cloud envelopment to hinder 
the view. On one side the green 
fields of the bordering Connecticut 
Valley and the fertile farms of Ver- 
mont greet the vision, and in the 
distance the blue tops of the Adiron- 
dacks are plainly discernible. The 
peaks and ravines of New Hamp- 
shire and the valleys and meadow 
lands of the Granite State, blending 
with the pine forest of Maine, pre- 
sent a picture in which pastoral 
charms and rugged grandeur vie for 
ascendency. Toward the northeast, 
the beauty of the Franconia Moun- 
tains becomes doubly enhanced by 
nearby observance, while to the 
northwest is Mount Kinsman and in 
the rear, craning eagerly forward, 
the white head of Mount Cannon, 
both gazing in admiration on the 
t<>\\er of Moosilauke. 

In the vicinity of Warren and 
Moosilauke lived the Pemigewas- 
set Indians. The mountain re- 
ceived its name from the Indian 
words "Moosi" which means bald 
and "Auke" meaning place and the 
L was afterwards inserted by the 
English for euphony. The Pemi- 
assets, a powerful tribe of the 
Nipmunck Nation, had all the popu- 
lar superstitions of the New Eng- 
land [ndians. In their minds the 
Great Spirit was wont to frequently 
visit the mountain top. The early 
harvest of the corn, the golden 
maize, the ripest fruit of the or- 
chards, the fat eareass of the bear, 
moose or deer, the choicest of the 
hunter's quarry, all were offered in 

sacrifice to the Manitou at the foot 
of Moosilauke. 

Well they understood the mood 
of the Manitou. When angry the 
sky became clouded; Nepauz the 
Divinity of the sun hid his face;, 
darkness enshrouded the mountain 
and the Manitou proclaimed his 
anger in the usual forms of light- 
ning flashes and thunder. The wolf 
and bear roared and fought in the 
Jobildunk Ravine and from the peak 
of Moosilauke the screams of 
the war eagle, Keneu, filled the val- 
ley below. When pleased the mien 
of Moosilauke reflected the desires 
of the Manitou, Nepauz came forth 
in all his golden splendor, the sal- 
mon frolicked in the silver lake, the 
beavers became busy along the 
banks of the Connecticut, the deni- 
zens of the forests fled before the 
hunter's bow and the squaws chat- 
ted and sang as they gathered the 
yellow maize. 

The Pemigewessets belonged to 
the Algonquin race and were reck- 
oned in their nation as a tribe of 
strength and power. The cruel Ta- 
rantines of the Provinces and the 
fierce "man eaters," or Mohawks, 
had measured the war-like propensi- 
ties of this New Hampshire tribe 
and hesitated about engaging in 
war with the confederation to which 
they lent their aid. The name 
Pemigewasset was applied to this 
section of the mountain and from, 
this the tribe received its name. 

Passaconaway, the great Saga- 
more, for years ruled the Nipmuck 
Nation, a confederation which com- 
prised the Nashuas, Souhegans, 
Amoskeags, Penacooks, Squam- 
scotts, and a half dozen other 
tribes, but at his death dissatisfac- 
tion arose and internal warfare did 
much to weaken the strength of the 


league. The Pemigewassets still 
retained their prominence, however, 
and Wonalancet, son of Passacon- 
away, collecting as best he could 
the scattered tribes of the Nip- 
mucks retired to the island of Wika- 
sauke. Following the advice of the 
illustrious Passacoanway, his son, 
Wonalancet made a covenant of 
peace with the English. 

Philip of Mount Hope, known to 
the Indians as Pometacom, than 
whom no braver or more daring 
character is recorded in the annals 
of American history, determined to 
make a last attempt for the free- 
dom of race. With rare skill this 
natural leader had united the war- 
ring tribes ; he impressed them with 
the idea that only in union remained 
their safety and preservation, and 
then with the sa2"acitv of a militarv 

leader he planned for the complete 
destruction of the English. This 
courageous and tactful savage en- 
dowed with the abilities which 
have written indelibly on the pages 
of American history the names of 
Washington, Grant, Sherman, Sher- 
idan and a score of others , realized 
the immensity of his task and re- 
sources. He sought strength from 
far and near, and had Wonalancet 
and other chiefs followed the ex- 
ample of the Colonists in the keep- 
ing of peace covenants. King Phil- 
ip's War, would occupy a different 
page in the history of New Eng- 

Philip dispatched messengers to 
Wonalancet requesting his aid : but 
the Nipmuck warrior refused to 
violate his compact, consequently he 
incurred the displeasure of the war- 


1 10 


ring tribes. Neither did he desire 
to join the Colonists in a war 
against his own race. Finding him- 
self uncomfortably beset whichever 
way he turned, YVonalancet with his 
followers returned to the land of the 
Penacooks. The Colonists soon dis- 
covered him in his hiding place and 
being very eager to secure the aid 
on their own side of as many blood- 
thirstv savages as possible, dis- 
patched a second deputation urging 
the chief to take sides with the Eng- 

Wonalancet persistently and in- 
dignantly refused, and Captain 
Moseley, who had acquired consid- 
erable fame in previous Indian 
wars, was sent to disperse the Pen- 
acooks and Pemigewassets and to 
punish Wonalancet for his insub- 

There was but one place of refuge 
for Wonalancet and, collecting his 
faithful followers, he fled to the 
mountain forests of New Hamp- 
shire. Here, among the thickets of 
the White Mountains, every foot of 
wilderness and every nook and 
cranny among the rocks and ledges 
of which were familiar ground, the 
Sachem of the Pemigewassets found 
safe shelter. Here, in the old home 
of his tribe he remained until the 
autumn when he was joined by 
Monocco or One Eyed John and 
Sagamore Sam, warriors who had 
lately engaged in many exciting ad- 
ventures against the Colonists under 
the leadership of Philip. 

In September, 1676, four hundred 
Indians had been enticed to come 
to Dover, under the pretense of a 
friendly conference with the Eng- 
lish. Captain Waldron, with Haw- 
thorne, Frost and Sill met the In- 
dians and with the English forces 
at Cocheco planned a sham battle. 

The Indians drew up in battle ar- 
ray on one side, the English on the 
other. The English so arranged it 
that by a clever coup they sur- 
rounded the red men and took them 
all captives. These who had en- 
gaged in Philip's War were hanged 
and quartered, Monocco and Saga- 
ore Sam being among the number. 
The remainder, with the exception 
of a few, were sold into slavery. 
Wonalacet with one hundred and 
fifty followers, a mere handful of his 
former strength, was allowed to de- 
part. He fled to his former home, 
but at Penacook or Concord or even 
in the fastness of the mountains, 
there was no longer safety or happi- 
ness for Wonalancet, so on Septem- 
ber 19, 1677, he journeyed to the St. 
Francis tribe in Canada and was 
never afterward heard from. 


Ellis River 

Once, there was a powerful tribe 
of Indians who inhabited a region 
close by the Ellis River now known 
as Jackson, New Hampshire. The 
Sagamore had a beautiful daughter, 
the handsomest maiden of her race. 
So renowned was the beauty of this 
famous damsel, that braves from 
the tribes throughout New England 
and Canada and even from the dis- 
tant and war-like Mohawks were 
among her suitors; but to all the 
maiden's answer was the same. Her 
father had determined that a brave 
of his own tribe, the most powerful 
among his young men, should be the 
husband of his daughter. The selec- 
tion pleased the daughter but little 
for already she had listened with 
favor to the wooing of a noted war- 
rior of a neighboring tribe. Secret- 
ly the lovers met at night and re- 


1 1 

newed their vows of allegiance to 
one another and at last the young 
brave determined to press his suit 
with the Sagamore. Laden with 
presents of valuable furs and wam- 
pum the ardent lover journeyed to 
the wigwam of the Sagamore. 
Earnestly he pleaded for the daugh- 
ter of the Great Chief and at the 
feet of the Sagamore, as a token of 
his friendship, he laid his presents. 
The Sagamore listened intently to 
the warrior's love tale for he dared 
not openly refuse the representative 
of so powerful a tribe, but in his 
heart was disappointment and sad- 
ness for he had reserved his daugh- 
ter for the other. The old Saga- 
more called the chiefs of his tribe 
in council and all night they talked 
and deliberated. At length it was 
decided that both suitors should 
have equal favor and the most skil- 
ful archer should carry off the pre- 
cious prize. 

Accordingly at a distance of fifty 
paces a round target was marked on 
a white birch tree, and each brave 
in turn was to display his skill with 
the bow. He of the distant tribe, 
strong and fearless, eyes blazing 
with excitement for the result, 
stepped forward; — quickly he drew 
his bow, the whirring arrow sped 
straight to the birch, almost to the 
very centre of the target. Victory 
shone on the bronze forehead, confi- 
dence beamed from his every feature 
as he strode toward the prize which 
awaited him. Then, forward came 
the sturdy form of one who towered 
above all the warriors of his race. 
His rank was high for the eagle 
plumes floated from his raven locks 
and the prowess of a chief marked 
his bearing! Deliberately he drew 
his bow and aimed. Snap ! went 
the cord and his winged messenger 

lodged in the very centre of the tar- 
get ! A shout of triumph burst from 
the victorious tribe — while the calm 
and implacable warrior turned in 
the direction of the maiden. Short 
lived however was the shout of tri- 
umph, the impassive countenance 
had changed to a look of fierce rage ! 
Instantly, the loser seeing he had 
been vanquished, caught his sweet- 
heart by the hand and speeding like 
the wind they sought the wood! In 
swift pursuit followed the braves, 
the victorious archer foremost f 
Faster and nearer pressed the pur- 
suers ! The brave and his sweet- 
heart realizing that escape was im- 
possible, made a desperate dash for 
the nearby river, reaching it but a 
few yards in advance of their pur- 
suers. They hesitated for a moment 
only and then both plunged head- 
long and were lost in the turbulent 
waters of Ellis Cascade ! 

Have you listened for the song of 
a Siren, whose sweet strains rise 
above the roar of Ellis River? It is 
the lullaby of an Indian queen, soft- 
ly crooning to her faithful lover. 

Another story of Ellis River is 
that a beautiful Indian maiden ad- 
mired and loved by all the young 
braves of her race, but so peerless 
in her beauty and accomplishments 
that no young man was deemed 
worthy of her, — fled from the tribe. 

Weeks and months were spent in 
search of her but no trace could be 
found of the missing girl. One day, 
however, a party of Indians, return- 
ing from the hunt, saw a beautiful 
maiden and a young brave with 
long flowing hair like the girl's, 
which reached below his waist,, 
seated on the banks of the river. 
They recognized the maiden as the 
beautiful girl who had disappeared. 
Her companion was a spirit or 

J 12 


water nymph. Glancing- up they per- 
ceived the war party, then both 
plunged into the river and disap- 
peared. Ever afterward when the 
hunter reached Ellis River, he 
stopped at this point and sought 
the spirits to aid him in his quest, 
and. answering the prayer of the 
hunter, the water nymphs would call 
moose and deer and wild animals in 
great numbers from the woods. 


The Red Carbuncle 

To enter a land which the Great 
Spirit had hallowed with his pres- 
ence ! No, not for all the treasures 
of the earth would the red man pass 
into that forbidden paradise; and 
woe unto the desecrator who pre- 
sumed to venture thither. 

Once, two great Pow Wows, who 
had grown bold because of their 
■success at magic, attempted to es- 
cend the mountain, but were never 
afterward heard from. So perished 
all who defied the power of the 

When the storms raged, the 
shrieks of the evil spirits who were 
confined in the caverns of the moun- 
tains resounded in the valleys be- 
low. When angry, the Great Spirit 
in a voice of thunder proclaimed 
his rage from the mountain top. 
Offenders against his laws were 
struck by flashes of fire from heaven 
and from his home on the mountain 
peak he dispensed plague and 
drought and all ills which befell 
the red man. 

Suspended from a dangerous 
ledge on the peak of Mount Wash- 
ington was a monstrous carbuncle 
whir)) shone with a dazzling red 
and golden lustre at night. Like the 
rays of the rising morning sun this 

luminous jewel lighted the mountain 
top for miles around. Fortunate 
was the being who touched this 
precious stone, for henceforth it 
acted as a talisman and no danger 
could befall him on land or sea ; 
but it was safely guarded by an evil 
spirit, a wicked Indian who had 
climbed the mountain top in defi- 
ance of the Manitou and who, as a 
punishment, had been killed, and his 
spirit stationed as a guard to per- 
petually watch over the stone. In 
his hand he held a fiery spear; and 
the human being who approached 
was bound to be enveloped in a 
haze of mist and smoke. The lake 
below rumbled and roared, — then 
bewildered and frightened at the 
point of the spear the intruder was 
pushed over the precipice into this 
steaming and boiling lake and the 
victim was lost forever. 

The Indians were not alone in 
their visions of the Carbuncle for 
after the white settlers advent it 
was seen and a party of white men 
journeyed to the mountain top in 
search of it. They claimed that 
they had located it but owing to the 
danger of being dashed to pieces in 
reaching it they returned, being sat- 
isfied with large quantities of quartz 
and crystals, which they gathered 
supposing them to be diamonds. 
Another party was afterward or- 
ganized but after a hazardous trip, 
during which they experienced all 
sorts of hardships, they failed to 
locate the spot and returned. The 
Carbuncle was never afterward lo- 
cated and strange to say it is no 
longer visible. Perhaps it is hidden 
with the other treasures of Mount 
Washington under the care of the 
mountain spirits in the caverns and 
the caves beyond the reach of hu- 
man hand and sight. 

Cap'n Hezekiahs Little Evy 

By Frederick G. Fassktt 

FIVE times the curtain was raised 
and each time the star smilingly 
bowed her acknowledgement of 
the plaudits of the audience. She 
made a pretty picture ; her face be- 
neath its aureole of golden hair 
flushed with the pleasure of her tri- 
umph. As she came again and again 
to the footlights, I noticed that some 
person on the floor of the house was 
receiving what seemed to be an un- 
due share of the favors of the beauti- 
ful young actress. I could hear 
people sitting near me commenting 
on the manner in which one of the 
audience was singled out for especial 
distinction. Leaning far over the 
left shoulder of the stout lady in the 
next seat, I caught a glimpse of the 
lucky man. At first, I though I must 
be mistaken but there could be no 
mistaking that rugged, kindly face. 
It was Cap'n Hezekiah Randall, 
arrayed in his best black suit, with 
scant gray locks carefully parted 
just above his left ear and carried 
evenly and smoothly over his bald 
pate He sat far down front; his 
eyes were fixed upon the girl on the 
stage above him and as again she 
smiled and bowed in his direction, 
he nodded and smiled in return, 
oblivious of the enquiring glances of 
those around him. 

As the audience dispersed, I wait- 
ed until Cap'n Hezekiah reached me 
and then, finding him nothing loath, 
I led the way to a place where over 
a mug of foaming ale the man of the 
sea could tell me how it happened 


that he, of all her admirers, had been 
so signally honored by the reigning 
stage favorite of the day. 

" 'Tain't a thing I gen'ally talks 
about," said Cap'n Hezekiah, "but 
I'm that proud of the little girl to- 
night that I don't mind tellin' ye the 
story ef ye've got the time to hear it. 
Could I smoke a pipe here?" he 
asked with a glance at the white- 
jacketed waiter. "Them cigars is 
good but they ain't suited to story 
tellin'. There ain't nothin' like a 
pipe to keep a yarn spinnin' in prop- 
er fashion." 

The pipe lighted, Cap'n "Hezekiah 
told me the story of his career as a 
patron of the drama and it will bear 

"I s'pose," he said, "that the most 
peculiar trip I ever made 'longshore 
was the time I was in the show busi- 
ness. D'ye ever see the play called 
'Uncle Tom's Cabin?' To my mind 
that's about the best play there is. 
Of course, 'tain't in the class with 
them plays that Shakespeare wrote, 
but that don't follow that it ain't 
jest as interestin'. When I get where 
there's an Uncle Tom's Cabin com- 
pany I most gen'ally goes, although 
I hain't got no sympathy for them 
newfangled notions some folks has 
when they puts two Topsys and two 
Markses, the lawyers, into the piece. 
"Well, 'twas back 'bout '92, I 
guess, 'long the latter part of Au- 
gust. That was a mighty funny 
year. When 'twarri't blowin' like all 
possessed, 'twas jest a dead flat 



ca'm. an' it made coastin 5 a mighty 
oncertain work. I'd been down to 
Boston with a load of brick and had 
cot back as fur as Gloucester. I 
went in there to get out of the way 
of a nor'easter. an' when that was 
over there was more of that fog. 
'There was an Uncle Tom's Cabin 
company playin' in Gloucester, an' 
the last night we was there me'n the 
cook went up. I didn't think so much 
of the Uncle Tom, but the little Evy 
was jest bully. They had one ot 
them gates ajar scenes when little 
Evy died, an' Lordy, it looked jest 
's ef she was goin' right straight up 
to heaven through the roof of the 
opera house. Cook said he didn't 
take much stock in little Evy, an' 
any one could see that Uncle Tom 
was a white man blacked up. But 
what interested him most was the 
real Sibeerian bloodhounds that 
chased Elizy over the pasteboard 
ice. Joel Hanson was cook for me 
that year, an' the next time Joel 
seen them bloodhounds they chased 
him right plumb up the crosstrees, 
but that's further 'long in the story. 
"We managed to work down as 
fur as Portland an' tied up there at 
the upper end of the dock where 
the Boston boat comes in. We got 
in there late at night an' the next 
mornin', the fog was so thick again 
we act'ally couldn't see anythin' on 
the wharf. 'Twas one of them hot, 
-tiek\- fogs — one of them days that 
makes ye feel 's cf the tea-kettle 
b'ilin' right under yer cheer. 
Me'n Joel was a-settin' on the house 
aft. when out of that fog come some 
shapes that looked bigger'n bears. 
Joel let out a yell you could have 
heard clean over to Pooduck, an' he 
wenl aloft quicker'n a monkey ever 
dim' up a cocoanut tree. I was 

some scairt myself, comin' so sud- 
den like, so I jest rolled over back- 
wards an' fell down the companion- 
way into the house, yankin' the 
doors to after me as I dropped. 

"Well, I could hear 'em rantin' 
'round the deck, when Joel warn't 
makin' so much noise from where 
he set on the crosstrees that you 
couldn't hear nothin' else. An' then 
all of a sudden, the racket jest quiet- 
ed down an' 'twas as quiet as a flat 
ca'm. I poked my head out an' there 
settin' on the rail was a peaked look- 
in,' freckle-faced little gal with three 
big dogs a-layin' at her feet. 

"Joel sings out: 'Take keer,' he 
says, 'it's them Sibeerian blood- 
hounds.' An' Lordy, sir, ef 'twarn't. 

' 'They won't hurt ye,' says the 
little gal. T was jest givin' of 'em a 
little run when they jumped right 
on your boat. They're real nice 
dogs, but they. ain't gettin' much to 
eat these days. We're jest busted, 
ye know,' she says, real confidin' 
like. 'The steamboat people say we 
can't have the scenery an' the band 
wagon onless we pay the freight an' 
we ain't got no money for that.' 

''Be you in the show?' I asked. 

c 'Yes,' she says, T play little 

' 'Well,' says I, 'either ye ain't 
gettin' victuals enough or goin' up 
through them gates ajar every night 
is wearin' on your health. An',' says 
I, ' 'twon't do ye any harm, I guess, 
to get some good, wholesome food.' 
"An' with that I gets Joel down on 
deck an' 'twarn't long afore we 
had the little lady a-settin' down to 
riz biscuits an' fried ham with some 
good hot coffee to go with it. She 
told me how they'd been in hard 
luck. Bus'ness warn't no way good, 
an' they had to fix the play over so's 




little Evy could be Topsy an' have 
time to get the black off afore the 
gates ajar bus'ness. Then the chap 
who handled the money skipped out 
with what cash there was an' all in 
all the Uncle Tom show was in 'bout 
as rough sailin' as old Uncle Tom 
himself ever see. 

"D'ye ever notice how some 
women keeps cheerful no matter 
what happens? Well, that little 
woman didn't complain none though 
I found out that she and her ma — 
her ma played Elizy — hadn't seen 
any wages for eight weeks an' there 
was a little brother an' sister to be 
supported to home. When she got 
through her yarn an' was praisin' 
Joel Hanson's fried ham an' riz 
bread, I don't mind tellin' ye that I 
felt 's ef some o' the fog had gone 
into my eyes. An' 'twas then that 
I had a great idee. 'Tain't often 
that an old barnacle like me gets a 
chance to do good to his fellow crea- 
turs, but it did seem 's ef 'twas a 
dispensation o' divine Providenee 
that led them Sibeerian bloodhounds 
to chase Joel Hanson clean up to 

I the cross-trees an' so bring little 
Evy aboard the old Juno. 

' 'Ef I could get the steamboat 
people to trust ye so's ye could get 
the show out o' pawn, so to speak,' 
I says, 'would ye get your play folks 
to come aboard the Juno? Seein's 
I'm bound to the east'ard I'd jest 
live's not set ye ashore at Boothbay 
'n' ye could give the show there. An' 
for matter o' that, 'twouldn't trouble 

I me none,' I says, 'to hitch ye along's 
fur as Rockland to save railroad 

' 'Twoud a-done ye good to see 
how that little gal chirked up. She 
swallered the last o' that ham an' 
then she threw her arms right 'round 

my neck an' kissed me. She warn't 
the only play actor that kissed me 
on that trip, either, but the other 
come later. 

"Well, that afternoon, when the 
wind had canted 'round to south'ard 
an' druv the fog away, the Juno set 
sail with the queerest cargo the old 
hooker ever carried. Joel Hanson 
was dodgin' them Sibeerian blood- 
hounds ; ye never could make Joel 
believe them dogs come from New 
York an' never see Sibeery. The 
band chariot was on deck amidships 
an' play actors was scattered 'round 
promisc'ous. We got to Boothbay 
all right an' when it got 'round that 
a show had come to town in a coast - 
in' schooner, all the folks turned out 
an' we give the pieces to a crowd 
that filled the hall. I told 'em, seein's 
bus'ness was so good, that we might 
jest's well stay over another night. 

"Things did seem to go terrible 
hard with that crowd. 'Twas 'long 
towards noon the next 'day when 
little Evy — I always called her little 
Evy though that warn't her real 
name — come aboard the Juno an' 
jest put her head down on the cabin 
table an' begun to cry. Seem's her 
ma had took sick an' couldn't play. 
Little Evy said she didn't see how 
they could give the piece without 
Elizy, an' more'n that she was afraid 
that so much trouble would drive 
Uncle Tom to drink. He was some 
given that way when things was 
goin' wrong. 

"Wei, I told her that I'd fix it : 
I jest put it on strong an' told the 
little lady not to worry. I said the 
show'd come off on time, but, 
Lordy, I didn't have much idee what 
I was goin' to do. However, feelin' 
the need of exercise I navigated up 
town an' caught Uncle Tom before 



he'd had more'n two or three, an' I 
told him if he didn't stop it an' keep 
sober for the evenin' performance 
I'd make his upper works look 's ef 
a cyclone had struck 'em, an' then 
I'd take him down on the old Juno 
an' keel haul him. He was sober 
when the curtain went up, sober's a 

•'Well, the only thing I could 
think of was to see ef I couldn't get 
some imitation actor to take the part 
of Elizy. Ye see most of them coast 
towns has clubs which gives plays, 
but when I come to mention it to 
'cm — Lordy, them town actors was 
so highty-tighty that they wouldn't 
associate with real play actor folk. 
I was expressin' my mind pretty 
free about it in the barber shop, 
when the barber says that down to 
Squirrel Island, spendin' the sum- 
mer, was a real actress, an' he men- 
tioned a name which I calculate 
you'd recognize ef I spoke it, but 
bein's I promised not to I ain't 
a-goin' to. 

"I went down to the landin' 
plumb beat, when all of a sudden 
what that barber said come back to 
me an' I says to myself: 'Why not?' 
5o 1 jest took a catboat an' sailed 
over to Squirrel Island. I found the 
lady a-settin' on the piazzy of her 
cottage with a lot of them summer 
folks 'round her. I'm willin' to say 
that my knees was kinder wabbly 
when I went up them porch steps, 
but T put my best foot for'ard an' 
asked ef T might speak to her. She 
a real lady ef there ever was 
one an', say, I jest forgot to be 
scairt an' spun my yarn, jest \s ef 
me'n her had been there all alone. 
f told her how hard little Evy and 
her ma was vvorkin' to support them 
children to home, an' when I got 

through she says : 'How much do 
you want me to give?' 

' 'By Jings !' says I, 'little Evy an' 
her ma ain't no paupers. What I 
come down here to ask you to do, 
ma'am, was to act. They need 
somebody powerful bad to take the 
part of Elizy, an' ef you're scairt 
'bout it I don't mind tellin' ye that 
them real Sibeerian bloodhounds 
was bought in New York an' ain't 
nowise dangerous.' 

"One of them summer girls set 
up a larf at that, while I sot there 
on the edge of my cheer twistin' 
my cap in my hands an' feelin' like 
an old cod in a bowl full of goldfish. 
The actress, she jest sot an' looked 
at me for 'bout a minute, an' then 
she says : 'Well, you're a dear old 
bear,' an' with that she jumps right 
up an' puts her arms right 'round my 
neck an' gives me a kiss, an' that 
was the second time I was kissed 
on that trip when I was in the show 
bus'ness. But Lordy, don't ye ever 
tell that to Cap'n Jabez Pollock. I 
don't want no scandals at my time 
o' life. 

"She turned 'round to them snick- 
erin' summer people an' looked at 
'em in a way that made 'em solemn 
as a funeral. 'I'm jest goin' to do it,' 
she says, 'to oblige my dear old 
friend here.' 

"That's what she said but, of 
course, she put it that way jest be- 
cause they'd larfed at me. I jedged 
that the real reason was that what 
I'd told her 'bout little Evy an' her 
ma had teched her heart. She had 
a head on her, she had. She took 
right holt an' sold a lot of tickets 
at five dollars apiece. She told them 
summer folks 'twas the only time 
they'd ever have a chance to see 
her as Elizy with them Sibeerian 



bloodhounds a-chasin' of her over 
the ice. 

"Well, say, I s'pose Uncle Tom's 
Cabin was never give any better'n 
'twas that night down to Boothbay 
Harbor. Little Evy jest did her 
durndest, an', of course, that great 
actress she put more feelin' into the 
part of Elizy than I guess was ever 
put into it before. Even them real 
Sibeerian bloodhounds seemed to 
feel that they was called on to act 
a little better'n usual. 'Twas when 
she come to the gates ajar scene 
that little Evy did her best. That 
great actress was standin' 'longside 
of me out to one side the stage, 'an 
I heard her say, soft-like, 'Bless me, 
the child can act.' An' then she 
asked me all sorts of questions 'bout 
little Evy an' her ma so's I warn't 
very much s'prised when 'long 'bout 
next November I got a letter from 
little Evy tellin' me as how the great 
actress was educatin' her for the 

"You seen her tonight an' you 
know what she can do, but I tell ye, 

to my mind she ain't never acted no 
better'n she used to when she was 
little Evy goin' up through them 
gates ajar. When I'm 'round where 
she's playin', she always sends me 
tickets, an' I slick up an' goes, an' 
summers she comes down onto the 
Maine coast when the playhouses is- 
all closed up, an' we sail 'round an' 
tell stories of the time when Cap'n 
Hezekiah Randall was in the show 
bus'ness. I like to see her in her 
newfangled plays but, Lordy, it's 
when we're jest driftin' home 'long 
towards sundown, with the wind 
flatted out nigh to a dead ca'm, that 
she reminds me of the peaked, frec- 
kle-faced little Evy that shipped on 
the Juno." 

Cap'n Hezekiah's pipe was burned 
out and he lit one of the despised 
cigars, and sat looking into the 
smoke wreaths. Then he arose and 
we went out onto the avenue, into 
the glare and the noise. The face 
of the young actress smiled at us 
from a photograph in a shop win- 
dow. I envied Cap'n Hezekiah. 

The Call of the Subtle 

By Laura Simmons 

IT is always a joy to be assured 
that we are coming' on intellectu- 
ally — gaining surely, if slowly, in 
mental acumen and vigor. But of 
late we have also had reason to ap- 
prehend that some of our burdens 
along these lines of intellectual 
stimulus were becoming greater 
than we could bear. 

For example, it was not so long 
ago that we found some excitement 
in looking forward to the fifth act — 
that thrilling love scene calculated, 
as George Ade would say, to "scorch 
the begonias." But, alas, these prim- 
itive impulses of ours have become 
distinctly unfashionable — not to say 
positively indelicate. We are com- 
ing to the bitter realization that we 
must envelop ourselves in the nebu- 
lae of "subtility," "suggestion" and 
"artistic repression" if we would ex- 
perience any mental progression 
that is really worthy the name. 

Xot only is our literature being 
given over to psycological "stunts" 
of more or less significance, but the 
up-to-date dramatist has caught the 
craze, and is all for mental anguish, 
and the temperamental throes of the 
"Over Soul" (see also the Ueber 
Mensch of Goethe and Nietszche) 
which lie portrays with a glad in- 
souciance and confidence, which 
passeth all understanding. 

And whilst we, of course, grate- 
fully acknowledge an increased ro- 
bustness in our menial processes, we 
musl confess that at times we are 
seized with secrel yearnings to as- 

certain what is really going on right 
before our eyes — whether our hero 
and heroine are becoming engaged or 
bitterly estranged. We would cheer- 
fully relinquish a little of the added 
intellectual resources for the sake of 
knowing what is transpiring under 
all this aesthetic "restraint" and 
"subtle intensity." If someone would 
only give us a hint — if the leading 
lady would only exclaim, according 
to the old sainted tradition of the 
drama : "Can it be that all is over 
between us? Reginald, think of 
our che-ild !" or things like that. But 
no — the intellectual drama is sans 
everything in the way of plot, goose- 
flesh, and the good old melodramatic 

And the mournful and humiliat- 
ing fact is, that, away down deep 
within our provincial souls, some of 
us do love denouments. And after 
becoming all harrowed up over the 
expected climateric love-scene, we 
hate to be put ofT with "artistic ex- 
pression," and "psycological inten- 

We shall, of course, get hardened 
to the change in time. Indeed, at 
the present writing we feel ourselves 
prepared for anything that the mod- 
ern playwright (all in love, and in- 
spired by the tenderest altruism) 
shall have prepared for our ethical 
advancement. We fully expect at 
any moment to witness even our old 
friend, the beefy, gouty old lord of 
the manor come fuming onto the 
stage, and demand, in lieu of the 


T HE C A L L () F T IT E S U H T L E 

1 [Q 

traditional roast ox and ale, etc.,: — 
"What ho, varlet ! my cereal coffee, 
whole wheat-educators, and stewed 
prunes — and be damned quick about 

Alas ! could we love him still, em- 
bittered by such transmogrification? 
Nay — there would always be a dif- 
ference ; things could never really 
be the same between us again ! But 
oh — the perfection to our egos ! And 
no doubt, judged by the latter-day 
conception of the truly aesthetic, our 
beloved old reprobate was quite im- 
possible — truly unfit for publication. 

All this is in no sense a complaint. 
Heaven forbid that we should pre- 
sume to criticise, "ex cathedra," any- 
thing perpetrated in the sacred name 
of L'Arr-rr! In the language of the 
street gamin, "I a'int arguin' — I'm 
just tellin' yer !" 

Finally the last straw has fallen, 
and from a quarter whence we least 
expected it. The modern photog- 
rapher, not to be outdone in "artis- 
try" has betaken himself to shad- 
owy, chiar'oscuro effects, beside 
which the honest likenesses of a de- 
cade ago appear garish, crude and 
melodramatic. One recent "tri- 
umph" in photography exhibits a 
"Mother and Babe," which are only 
gloomily suggested in the dim re- 
ligious light. The Mother's tresses 
almost entirely obscure her profile 
as she bends over a subtly "restrain- 
ed" Babe, "of whom one eye, and 
the tip of the nose are alone visible 
amongst its multitudinous wrap- 
pings. It would seem as though a 
more fitting title would have been 
' Any Mother to any Babe !' " 

And although we are no doubt in- 
spired to loftier intellectual achieve- 
ments, in merely trying to discover 
Who's Who, we nevertheless decide 

(covertly) that next time it will be 
just as well to bring along the mag- 
nifying glass, a real strong one too, 
which shall enable us to recognize 
not only our own friends and neigh- 
bors, but our babes and near rela- 
tions. Mr. Howells, in a very beau- 
tiful and very acute essay in "Liter- 
ature and Life," makes this mem- 
orable statement, which we recom- 
mend to the devotees of art for all 
time, and all the world over : — "Art, 
like law, is the perfection of reason 
and anything in the work of an 
artist which is not reasonable is not 

In the last analysis, the truest re- 
lation of men to the world and to 
themselves is emotional rather than 
intellectual, and perhaps a certain 
appreciation — even a certain love — 
of the crude, the natural, the ele- 
mental — even the sensational, is 
wholesome and desirable, lest we be- 
come morbid and inert at the fur- 
ther swing of the pendulum. We 
must not become as Mr. James 
would say "disnatured." 

What hope is there for a world of 
men and women whose hearts have 
ceased to thrill at the blessed, beau- 
tiful, primitive things — the glory of 
the sunsets and mountains — the rap- 
turous ecstasies of the thrush and 
the lark? 

But after all, the real enduring 
element of beauty in man's nature is 
his inconsistency, and his inevitable 
dissatisfaction with the things that 
be — whatever they may be. And by 
that same token we may venture to 
hope for a different order of things 
in the near future. 

And whilst there will continue to 
be those pale students who burn the 
midnight oil in striving to inter- 
pret the abstruse passages of Robert 



Browning — delving ever for new 
light upon what must remain baff- 
ling and apochryphal in the works 
of that great poet — does not the 
whole world respond in swift, pas- 
sionate sympathy, to those simple, 
triumphant, heart-stiring lines of 
Prospice. so full of dauntless human 
courage and deathless human love? 
Confronted by the "Arch-Fear," 
how the fighter glories in his "one 
fight more — the best and last: — 

"One fight more — the best and last: — 

I would hate that Death bandaged my 

eyes — make me creep past — 
No, let me taste the whole of it — fare like 

my peers 
In a minute pay glad Life's arrears 
Of pain, darkness and cold ! — " 

And as he yearns across the dark 
abyss to clasp again the beloved one 
unto his arms ; 
Then a light — then thy breast — 

Oh thou soul of my soul I I shall clasp 

thee again 
And with God be the rest!" 

On the Beach Near Plymouth 

By Francis Ingold Walker 

Today the sea, a hoary minstrel, sings 

His mighty song, whose harmony is hurled 

As from ten thousand organ-pipes, and rings 
Along the deep foundations of the world. 

Listen, and you can hear the rattle and roar 
Of pebbles, ground as 'neath a monster's feet 

By waves that clamor on the foam-flecked shore 
And from the sands reluctantly retreat. 

And on the breeze there comes the salty breath 
Of booming billows out upon the decks 

Dim, shadowy mysterious realm, where Death, 
The aged Emp'ror reigns and never sleeps. 

Here is the solemn symphony of Life, 
With its eternal note of mystery- 

\ soul's dominion ever at vain strife 
With fretful barriers, and never free! 



Emerson said that one's originality de- 
pended on how much he knew of Plato, 
which if true, proves that mighty few now 
read and study Plato. (A Boston woman 
however has translated some of his best 
work in a most admirable and scholarly 
way, which is a star in the brilliant crown 
of New England women.) There seems to 
be little original work : now or ever. Mr. 
Frank B. Sanborn, who is well nigh omnis- 
cient in literary matters, told me how 
Shakespeare chummed well with Giordano 
Bruno, an eminent Italian philosopher, dur- 
ing his visit to England about 1582 and evi- 
dently was greatly assisted by him. ' Also 
that the fascinating and mysterious Sonnets 
were quite similar to some of Bruno's own. 
Of course the plots of Shakespeare's plays 
were all known and had been used before 
he borrowed and made them immortal. 
Sidney Smith said he had but one illusion 
left and that was the Archbishop of Canter- 
bury ! I am getting almost as skeptical. 

They have left us no heroes of reality or 
romance and the climax comes in a book 
called "The Martyrdom of Man" explain- 
ing that there is so much trouble and 
wrong in this world, because the Creator 
has been too fully occupied to look us up! 
While other writers go even farther, (I 
hope they will not "fare worse" for their 
irreverence,) and assert : here I refer you 
to two recent Philistines to see how com- 

peltely out of date is our most solemn, pre- 
cious faith in God and his Son. All our 
text books are now incorrect and bygones ; 
more are appearing to keep in step with 
the amazing strides of scientists, explorers, 
and metaphysicians. 

But I did have one, just one illusion left. 
I did believe absolutely in the Rev. Charles 
Wolfe as the author of the poem, "The 
Burial of Sir John Moore." He was an 
Irish clergyman and poet but wrote noth- 
ing that will live except this poem which 
is an almost literal translation, as Mr. 
Henry N. Hall tells us in the last Critic, 
from the French of Lally-Tollendal. One 
of my reference books says that the poem 
seems to have been written when Wolfe 
was still a student in Trinity College, Dub- 
lin, and it appeared in an Irish newspaper 
in 1817 with only his initials affixed : it 
was quoted from newspaper to newspaper; 
the initials were dropped and it was 
claimed by many persons. Wolfe's Trinity 
friends came to the rescue and Archdeacon 
Russell wrote his memoir with "Remains," 
dreadfully dull, but it went through at least 
eight editions, a curious testimony to the 
lasting popularity of the poem. It was 
greatly admired by Byron, and at one time 
ascribed to his Lordship. 

But D. M. Moir in Sketches of Poets 
says, "In the lottery of literature Charles 
Wolfe has been one of the few who have 



drawn the prize of probable immortality 
from a casual gleam of inspiration thrown 
over a single poem of only a few stanzas; 
and these too. little more than a spirited 
version from the poem of another. The 
ode went directly to the heart of the nation 
and is likely to remain forever enshrined 
there." We will not blame the talented 
young student, who was able to give such 
a "version' - ; ho probably did not intend 
plagiarism. But is it not close? 

Burial of Sir John Moore 
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 

As his corpse to the rampart we hurried; 
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 

I >'er the grave where our hero w r e buried. 

We buried him darkly at dead of night, 
The sods with our bayonets turning; 

By the struggling moonbeams' misty light 
And the lantern dimly burning. 

Xo useless coffin enclosed his breast, 

Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; 

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest 
With his martial cloak around him. 

Original of "Not a Drum was Heard" 
Ni le son du tambour, . . . ni la marche 
funebre. . . 
Xi le feu des soldats . . . ne marqua son 
depart. — 
Mais du brave, a la hate, a travers les 
Mornes . . . nous portames le cadavre au 
rempart ! 

De minuit e'etait l'heure, et solitaire et 
sombre, — 
La lime a peine offrait un debile rayon; 
La lanterne luisait peniblement dans l'om- 
Quand de la baionnette on creusa le 

D'inutile cercueil ni de drap funeraire 
Nous ne daignames point entourer le 
II gisail dans les plis du manteau militaire 
Comme un guerrier qui dort son heure 
de repos. 

Nol al all like the stealing attempted by 

the woman who accused Mr. William Allen 
Butler of picking up her manuscript of 
"Nothing to Wear," when she dropped it 
without noticing her loss in a New York 
omnibus. There were several claimants for 
the poem "Betsey and I are Out," of Carle- 
ton's. And Ella Wheeler Wilcox was 
obliged to fight a tedious and persistent 
man who was sure he wrote "Laugh and 
the world laughs with you !" 

I am stopping to admire my "restraint" 
in not suggesting the advisability of some 
of our young clergymen giving spirited ver- 
sions (owning their indebtedness), to the 
brilliant and strong . minds of the English 
and French clergy of a century ago. And 
sometimes on a Sunday evening giving 
readings from the books on scientific 
themes which are now studied so earnestly 
at home by people who think and therefore 
grow ; and allow questions and courteous 
discussion. Then the churches would again 
be well filled. 

It is a mistake to allow the merely new 
to crowd back the best literature of the 
past and I must speak once more of the 
opportunity offered by the E. P. Dutton 
Company, in their "Everyman's Library." 
"The true University in these days," said 
Carlyle, "is a collection of books." Now 
such a collection is possible for all. Ar- 
ranged in sections, as classical, philosophy 
and theology, poetry and drama, travel and 
topography, history, science, fiction, essays. 
Every thing that is worth while. Spend a 
dollar and read the dramas of Aeschylus 
and the plays of Euripides rather than the 
disagreeably frank and pessimistic efforts 
of Bernard Shaw ; those who must live 
where it is difficult to get books new or old, 
will be especially grateful for this innova- 

Thomas B .Mosher of Portland, Maine, 
is another maker of books who is a practi- 
cal philanthropist, giving us volumes which 
combine the most rare and precious 
thoughts of the ages with the most perfect 
presentation that exquisite taste can devise; 
the effect always quiet, but a bibliophile 
knows how much thought and expense it 
all cost. 

One reviewer says that "No more artistic 
books are issued from the press of any 



publisher in this or any other country than 
those bearing the imprint' of Thomas 
Mosher." He thoroughly understands the 
art of bookmaking in miniature and sends 
forth the daintiest ideal editions : "A re- 
print of poetry and prose for book lovers, 
■chosen in part from scarce editions and 
sources not generally known." 

I will give what he has preserved for us 
in this edition : six prose poems by Oscar 
Wilde ; one long prose poem, "The Sweet 
Miracle," done into English from the Port- 
uguese of Eca de Qieroz, Portugal's great- 
est prose writer of the last half of the nine- 
teenth century; and "Hand and Soul," the 
only tale that Rosetti ever completed. The 
binding is in Japan vellum with a special 
design in gold upon a ground work of 
green, and most reasonable in price. 

You only need to see or own one of 
these delightful books to become Mr. 
Mosher's constant and devoted patron. I 
have worked, played and "browsed" as they 
say, in many a superb and immense private 
library, where the richly bound volumes, 
seldom disturbed, impressed and oppressed 
me, standing in formal rows like wealthy 
gentlemen in court dress and dowagers, 
self satisfied, in gowns of brocade, satin 
and velvet. It may be fancy, but every 
volume sent out from this Portland treas- 
ure-house is truly alive with the special 
atmosphere of the writer, and Mr. Mosher's 
intimate familiarity with the text and un- 
erring intuition as to its most fitting dress 
gives an added personality. 

Art and appreciation, combined; that's 

Mr. Mosher is a New England pub- 
lisher and an honored member of our Au- 
thor's Club of Boston ; two other reasons 
for New England readers always keeping 
themselves supplied with his latest tri- 
umphs. , 

The Macmillan Company have sent me a 
life of Walter Pater, the English essayist, 
critic, student and literary curio, prepared 
by A. C. Benson for the English Men of 
Letters series. - This biography deserves 
more time than I can now give ; but will 
just indicate his special ambitions and 
achievements. Benson says that "Pater 
really struck out a new line in English 

prose, working oil principles enunciated by 
Flaubert in a widely different region. The 
essence of his attempt was to produce prose 
that had never before been contemplated 
in English, full of color and melody, seri- 
ous, exquisite, ornate. He devoted equal 
pains to construction and ornamentation. 
His object was that every sentence should 
be weighted, charged with music, haunted 
with echoes ; that it should charm and sug- 
gest, rather than convince or state. The 
triumph of his art is to be metrical with- 
out metre, rhythmical without monotony. 

"One of Pater's happiest accomplish- 
ments was his power of bringing up in a 
few words a figure or scene, beautiful in 
itself and charged with a further and re- 
mote significance. Roman Catholicism he 
said, was like a table draped in fair linen, 
covered with lights and flowers and vessels 
of crystal and silver; while Puritanism was 
like the same table, after it had been 
cleared, serviceable enough, but without 
charm or grace." 

I esteem Pater's criticism and short es- 
says more than his one long six years' 
painful effort on Marius the Epicurean. 
Mosher has reprinted nine of these essays 
from the "Guardian," with a picture of the 
author, only four hundred copies on Van 
Gelder paper, and the type distributed. 

My favorite here is his talk abou* 
Amiel's "Journal Intime," translated by 
Mrs. Humphrey Ward. 

Amiel always attracted and held me, 
though I sadly disapproved of his dreamy, 
dilatory temperament. I recall reading bits 
here and there from his Journal and the 
sunny, self forgetting diary of Longfellow, 
as a contrast to classes. Our poet of Cam- 
bridge, said little about his ambitions or his 
hopes in life but kept right on making his 
name famous and his home happy, bright- 
ening and blessing the lives of all so fortu- 
nate as to know him and winning the love 
and appreciation of the entire civilized 
world. His Psalm of Life alone has been 
printed in every language. While Amiel 
dreamed, dawdled, longed, set up high 
ideals (especially as to the woman he 
would at last make happy) and meantime 
indulged in useless, morbid introspection, 
and died, unwed, naught of consequence 



accomplished, save those moonings over 
what he intended to do! 

And he could write so well ! Enjoy his 
description of an effect of fog. "Fog has 
certainly a poetry of its own — a grace, a 
dreamy charm. It docs for the daylight 
what a lamp does for us at night ; it turns 
the mind toward meditation; it throws the 
soul back on itself. The sun, as it were, 
sheds us abroad in nature, scatters and dis- 
perses us — it is cordial, homely, charged 
with feeling. The poetry of the sun has 
something oi the epic in it; that of fog and 
mist is elegiac and religious. Pantheism is 
the child of light; mist engenders faith in 
near protectors. When the great world is 
shut off from us, the house becomes itself 
a small universe." You see? Beautiful, 
rare, true; but, and a big But; he was so 
distressingly fastidious and "hyper." 

"We are nothing but thought." "Action 
is but coarsened thought." Better say gal- 
vanized thought; thought utilized. But that 
would be too coarse. "The ideal poisons 
for me all imperfect possession. I feel a 
terror of action. He quotes with approval 
from Goethe. "Yet always find myself 
frittering myself away on the infinitely lit- 
tle, and longing after what is unknown and 

"I have always avoided what attracted me, 
and turned my back upon the point where 
I secretly desired to be." Bless me! Do 
open a window no matter if it is raining 
and the wind blows wild. I want oxygen 
and to get away from such ineffectual, lack- 
lustre, mental poodleism. I know Amiel 
was consumptive, but so was Lanier; so 
was Stevenson; so was Tom Hood. But 
he had genius and fascination and won- 
drous power over words. 

Mosher has surprised me by showing 
how well Walt Whitman wrote in prose. 
Anne Montgomeries Traubel, wife of the 
latesl biographer, has collected a 
little book of "Nature Thoughts" from his 
writing- and they are refreshing. As he 
Mt« • by tli'- spring under the 

willow tic< ev< rything. "And how 

all j^row into in'-, day by day, every- 

thing in keeping; the wind just palpable 
perfume, and the dapple of leaf-shadows, 
and all the natural medicinal, elemental 
moral influences of the spot." Well, Whit- 
man took his big soul out doors and taught 
us much. He speaks of a curious feeling 
also spoken of by Pater ; of feeling when 
alone in the forest, the presence of some- 
thing or somebody else. "Is it a lingering 
inherited remains of man's primitive wari- 
ness, from the wild animals ? or from his 
savage ancestry far back? It is not at all 
nervousness or fear. Seems as if some- 
thing unknown were possibly lurking in 
those bushes, or solitary places. Nay, it is 
quite certain there is some vital unseen 

"As now taught accepted and carried out 
are not the processes of culture rapidly 
creating a class of supercilious infidels, who 
believe in nothing. Shall man lose himself 
in countless masses of adjustments, and be 
so shaped with reference to this, that and 
the other, that the simply good and healthy, 
and brave parts of him are reduced and 
clipped away, like the bordering of box in a 
garden? You can cultivate corn and roses 
and orchards but who shall cultivate the 
mountain peaks, the ocean and the tum- 
bling gorgeousness of the clouds?" 

Like many another woman I have talked 
a good deal but have not said one-tenth of 
what I meant to say, and am almost at the 
end of my tether. I do not need to rec- 
commend Churchill's last novel, a true New 
Hampshire story; it holds one's interest 
straight through ; can't praise the counter- 
feit presentments of Jethro and Cynthy, 
mother or daughter. I would like to com- 
pare real pictures of these interesting folks 
with these unreal efforts. Do I have any 
hope that Colonel Churchill will be next 
Governor of the Granite State? Ah! my 
doubts balance my hopes. I cling with 
foolish superstition to the fact that C, 
is his favorite and fortunate letter! It is 
in capitals in the title of each novel; he 
lives at Cornish and I wish he might pre- 
side at Concord. See? 


The National Society is yet on a vaca- 
tion. Many of the members are enjoying 
forests, mountains or seashore and farm, 
camp or hotel life, in "The States," as 
foreigners call our Republic, and others 
have crossed the Atlantic to explore or re- 
visit the haunts of earlier generations. 

Clubs in general are closed for the 
summer, and it is generally conceded that 
this is the case with the National Society. 
So it is as far as social functions are con- 
cerned; but fraternal interests are continu- 
ally growing, and this life of summer itin- 
erancy is especially conducive to these. 
Frequently the chairman of Colony Com- 
mittee receives letters from various mem- 
bers saying "Mrs. Blank of Blank is 
desirous of knowing more about the forma- 
tion of a Colony of the New England So- 
ciety." The reply might be "Why not 
subscribe for the magazine? Then you 
can learn more than a letter can tell you," 
but the Chairman in order to properly 
serve the cause, endeavors to meet the re- 
quirements by sending a letter in detail 
to each inquirer — and no one need feel her 
queries are ever other than a pleasure to 
the Chairman. . It is always pleasing to 
serve a good cause conscientiously: and 
no better one can present itself than our 
New England fraternity with its reciprocal 
interests both social and philanthropic (as 
well as ancestral). 

The extension of the Society through 
the formation of more Colonies, is not the 
only fraternal work that is conspicuous 
during these restful summer months. Phil- 
anthropy nsver takes a vacation. In the 
Parent Society the needy ones are cared 
for, some are sent to summer homes, and 
whatever comforts are necessary, are pro- 
vided. This is done through a committee 
formed of the President and ex-Presi- 
dents, into whose hands the Trust Fund 
is given, and from whom no report is re- 
quired. This ensures privacy for those 
who are so unfortunate as to need assist- 
ance in their declining years, or to help 
them to tide over misfortune through a 
loan. There is also open work of a meri- 
torious nature done through the Investi- 
gation and Relief Committee. 

Colony III, Montclair, sustains a district 
nurse, who finds duties waiting her early 
and late. Her ministrations are not con- 
fined to the needs of New England people, 
but to suffering humanity generally. 

The members of Colony X, San Fran- 
cisco, have taken up the work of daily 
visits to the camps of the poor, each mem- 
ber having a certain district or route. In 
many cases, they are located on their own 
grounds. But near or far, through the 
blistering heat, as well as on days of com- 
fort, these unselfish philanthropists carry 
on their work, ever thanking God that the 


1 20 


ster to life and limb was not more 

sweeping. We who work earnestly one 
day each week of cool months, and reflect 
during the summer on our good qualities, 
will do well to consider what the work of 
our San Francisco sisters has been since 
that earthquake day of last April. There 
have been seven days to their weeks since 
then, and no summer vacations. The Col- 
ony members there mean to seek out all 
s of need among the people of New 

ind ancestry before the approach of 
cold weather, and will ask the assistance 
of the National Society in caring for them 
if necessary. Thus far, none have been 
found, showing not only the thrift of New 
England element in caring for themselves 
but their unfortunate pride in concealing 
their needs. 

One feature of philanthropy that should 
appeal to all, is the finding of suitable em- 
ployment for those desiring such. To force 
the wrong person into the wrong place, 
simply because he is poor and must have 
work, is far from praiseworthy; but to 
place the proper worker in the proper field 
is a matter of vast importance. Too often 
a life is but half lived because of the in- 
adaptability of the person for a position 
that was accepted on account of financial 
needs. Our New England women charac- 
terized as they are by keenness of percep- 
tion and kindness of heart can do no 

r work than help correct such mis- 
or at least prevent the recurrence 
thers. With the increase in living ex- 
imes the need of increased in- 
to all skilled workers. New Eng- 
landers can always attain to skill in any 

- vocation for which they are adapted, 
and thej certainly should be helped to the 
• on they arc capable of filling. 
Mrs. Theodore Frelinghuysen Seward, 

dent of the National Society is yet 
hard at work in her spacious home at East 

." . N. J., planning interests for the 
coming year, arranging with her commit- 

(of tin- fifteen departments) and will 
be in readines to meet, with her usual 
he great responsibilities that await 

ppreciative letter continue to arrive 
regarding the July issue of the New Eng- 

land Magazine. The colored copy of the 
banner, it is stated in many of these let- 
ters, is being done in passepartout for home 

Mrs. C. David White, President of Col- 
ony IV, Washington, D .C, was born in 
Worcester, Mass. Her maiden name was 
Mary Elizabeth Houghton. Her father, Jo- 
siah Perry Houghton, was a descendant of 
Ralph Houghton. 

The family have been fine, sturdy New 
England stock, who have helped much in 
making history, of whom no little history 
has been written. Ralph Houghton was the 
son of Sir Richard Houghton of Hough- 
ton Tower, Lancashire, England, who was 


created a baronet by James I, upon the in- 
stitution of the order, May 22, i6n. 

Ralph, the younger son of a numerous 
family, was a Roundhead and fled to 
America on account of religious and politi- 
cal difficulties. He landed at Charlestown, 
Mass., and with nine others, founded the 
town of Lancaster, Mass., about 1647. 

From her mother's side, Mrs. White is 
descended from the Waites of Ipswich, 
Mass. Thomas Waite who kept the old 
Province House in Boston was her great 
uncle. It is he to whom Nathaniel Haw- 
thorne frequently refers in his "Tales of the 



Old Province House" in the collection of 
"Twice Told Tales." 

Mr. White is a member of the New Eng- 
land Geological Survey. He is descended 
fromjohn White of Salem and Lancaster. 
Through early intermarriages between the 

Whites and Houghtons, the couple are very 
distantly related. 

Mrs. White is the third President of Col- 
ony IV. She has entered the chair under 
most favorable circumstances, and a pros- 
perous and profitable year is assured. 

Editor's TabL 

Dr. R. H. Gregory of Adams County, 
Iowa, has hopes of the passage by his state 
legislature, next winter, of his bill for the 
killing of incurables, and hopelessly de- 
formed or idiotic infants. He provides that 
the patient, if of legal age, or the parent 
or guardian must ask for the death, the 
attending physician must concur, and two 
other reputable physicians and the coroner 
must also assent in form. Only when all 
agree can the patient be removed by an- 
aesthetics. This sounds very shocking,' but 
it is stated that many eminent men in other 
than the medical profession approve the 
measure. It is certain that gibbering idiots 
and hideously deformed people ought to be 
kept out of sight, and there are cases where 
degenerates and moral perverts might well 
be put not only out of sight but out of ex- 
istence. It has cost Massachusetts not a 
little to keep Jesse Pomeroy alive for about 
a quarter of a century, and he would take 
fiendish delight to-day in tearing a kitten 
limb from limb if he could get hold of it. 
What is the use of "sentiment" in such a 

Modern public school methods were 
severely criticized at the recent national 
convention of medical men, at Boston. 
There seemed to be general approval of a 
declaration by Dr. Woods Hutchinson, of 
Redlands, California, who in a formal ad- 
dress said : "If we must take our choice of 
a playground without a schoolhouse or a 
schoolhouse without a playground let us by 
all means have the playground. Home 

study among school children should not be 
tolerated. The American boy is the best 
educated because he spends so much time 
at home, and the country boy is the best 
educated of all, because he lives where he 
can attend school only three months in the 
year." The consensus of sentiment was 
that at best the school should only be sup- 
plementary to home training. Dr. Leastes 
Connor, of Detroit, put it in a forcible if 
not elegant phrase. He said: "The at- 
tempt to make the public school a machine 
for turning out men and women is an in- 
fernal mistake." The session also heartily 
approved the. separation of the sexes in 
school, and male teachers for boys, ex- 
pressed by Dr. G. Stanley Hall, of Wor- 
cester. He said: "A boy of fourteen who 
is considered a perfect gentleman by a lady 
teacher will never amount to much." 

There is a bill pending in Congress, in- 
troduced by Hon. John J. Fitzgerald to 
make second class mail matter subject to a 
charge of one cent for every three ounces. 
The present rate is one cent per pound. The 
change would make the rate five and a 
third cents. The excuse is that the cheap 
rate on newspapers and periodicals inflicts 
a burden on the postal system and prevents 
its becoming self-supporting, in other words 
that the government is subsidizing the 
press to the extent of the present postal 
deficiency. The fallacy of this excuse has 
been repeatedly shown by speeches in Con- 
gress and in the press, but there is fear 
that unless the public makes itself heard 



the bill will pass. It is clearly shown that 
if the government itself should pay the 
present rate for the tons of publications 
sent out by the various departments, and 
under the frank of Congressmen and other 
officials, there would be no deficiency. The 
free distribution of government literature 
is a public benefit, but it is unfair to ignore 
the expense of doing it in considering the 
expense of the postal department. The 
change in the law would benefit the rail- 
roads and express companies, who would 
compete at the proposed increased rate. 

* * 

Over two hundred people injured and 
nearly half a million dollars worth of prop- 
erty destroyed are charged to the celebra- 
tion of the Fourth of July last year, by 
reputable collectors of statistics. The man- 
ifestation of public patriotism by the use 
of explosives is sensational and spectacular, 
but it is doubtful if it is of any practical 
value. Even without the loss of life and 
property the noise of the celebration is a 
nuisance that should be suppressed in the 
interests of invalids and nervous people. 
A~i<!e from the cost of the celebration here 
mentioned the expense to those who make 
the noise has an important aggregate. With 
fifteen million families in the country it is 
a conservative estimate to allow five dol- 
lars per family for the public and private 
expenditure. This means seventy-five mil- 
lion dollars annually thrown away, aside 
from the contingent cost. Yankees are in- 
ventive. Will not some one invent a noise- 
less, harmless and costless fad, to take the 

place of the present absurdity? Would 
that the shades of George Washington and 
Abraham Lincoln could be rehabilitated 
and give us counsel. 

History of Greenfield. By Judge Thomp- 

New England towns are peculiarly rich 
in historical matter which yearly becomes 
of greater and greater interest, and no 
town has more of picturesque value then 
Greenfield. Here and hereabouts seems to 
have been the great battle ground between 
the English settlers and the Indians who 
were loth to give up to the white man the 
beautiful valley of the Connecticut. For 
nearly a century Greenfield was the fron- 
tier town of the region and the romance 
of its daily life is fascinating as well to 
one who reads for pleasure as to another 
who seeks for historic facts. Here was 
the hunting ground of the great Pocom- 
tuck nation and it was at the "Fishing 
Falls'' that Captain William Turner gave 
the death-blow to King Philip's career. 

Judge Thompson has told the story of 
the town in two volumes replete with his- 
toric interest and romance, volumes which 
appeal with special interest to all who love 
the true story of the struggles and tri- 
umphs of the forefathers in the early days 
of New England. The books will rank 
with the best work of Massachusetts' local 
historians, for painstaking research and 
the vivid picture they give of municipal 

Greenfield has been called a model New 
England town and Judge Thompson has 
certainly written a model history of it. 
No New England town library should be 
without this history. 2 vol., cloth, 8 vo., 
$7.00; delivered $7.50; net price to trade, 
$6.00. F. M. Thompson, Town Agent, 
Greenfield, Mass. 

r A's\T r l\}' 'W ■', Wl \'-H I'-.vl.kAVEU BY Lli^sOX E.SGKAV'liNG LU. j 



United States Senator from Vermont, 1891-1911, 
Republican, Secretary of War 1889-91, Member 
and President pro tern, Vermont Senate 1874- 
5. Lieut. Gov. Vermont, 1876-8, Governor 1878- 


United States Senator from Massachusetts 1893- 
191 1, Republican, Chairman of Committee on 
the Philippines, member of committees on civil 
service and retrenchments, foreign relations, 
immigration and railroads. 


Dinted States Senator from Rhode Island 1S95- 
[907. Republican. Governor of Rhode Island 
[885-7, Trustee Peabody Museum of National 
History, Yale University, and Peabody Educa- 
tion Fund. 



United States Senator from Maine 1881-1911, 
Republican. Has served as Chairman of Com- 
mittees on census, private land claims and 
naval affairs and continuously as member of 
committee on appropriations. 


United States Senator from Rhode Island 1881- 
1905, Chairman of Committee on Finance and 
Republican leader of the Senate. 


United States Senator from Massachusetts, ap- 
pointed to vacancy caused by death of Sena- 
tor Hoar, later elected for term expiring 1907. 
Republican, Lieut. Gov. of Massachusetts, 
1897-9. Governor 1900-2. 


Vice President of United States, President 
United States Senate, Republican, Indiana, 
Elected 1904, term expires 1909. Elected Sen- 
ator 1897, re-elected 1903. 

New England Magazine 

Odober, 1906 

Volume XXXV 


N U M BER 2 

The Loyalty of the Senate 

By David S. Barry 

SIXTEEN years ago Senator 
Hoar, then in the very prime 
of his intellectual powers, 
wrote for the Youth's Companion an 
article on the Senate. It was not a 
defense of that exalted legislative 
body, proverbially known as "the 
highest on earth," not an apology 
for its personnel or its acts and not 
even a comprehensive explanation 
or description of the workings of its 
internal machinery. Moreover, the 
•article was plainly not intended as 
a eulogy, but written with the laud- 
able intent to set before the eyes of 
young America a clearly drawn and 
accurate sketch in outline of the up- 
per house of the national Legisla- 
ture. Succinctly the Senator, whose 
knowledge of his subject is not ex- 
ceeded by that of any living man, 
laid before his readers a statement 
of the functions which the Senate 
was designed to perform by the mak- 
ers of the constitution, and pointed 
out how faithfully its mission had 
been and was being fulfilled. That 

paper was so highly commended by 
his colleagues that six years later, 
in 1896, the publication containing it 
was ordered printed as a Senate do- 
cument for public distribution. Its 
popularity was so great that there 
are today few copies remaining in 
the files. 

Now, a decade later, a hot- 
tongued southern senator, one whose 
radicalism on practically every pos- 
sible public question outviews that 
of the most thoroughly unrecon- 
structed "Rebel" who ever appeared 
in Congress from any state, a man 
who has often startled the country 
by his surprising and brutal attacks 
upon legislators, jurists and admin- 
istrative officials, the malignant foe 
of all sham and corruption, appears 
to the public in the interesting role 
of a knight of the pen defending the 
Republican Senate from the malic- 
ious and hysterical attacks of those 
who would have the world believe 
that it is a corrupt, inefficient and 
treasonable body whose membership 



is made up of men who are dishon- 
est, incompetent and, worse than all, 

When Senator Hoar prepared his 
pamphlet the era of organized de- 
famation of men in high office who 
were known to be possessed of great 
wealth or who were supposed to rep- 
resent the corporations as well as the 
individuals among t'heir constituents, 
the "special interests" as this class 
of the people have since come to be 
called, had not yet opened. There had 
been, of course, spasmodic and veno- 
mous attacks upon individual sena- 
tors and often, no doubt, justified 
by the facts, as having lined their 
pockets at the cost of their honor, 
and often, too, at the sacrifice of 
the public welfare. But from no re- 
sponsible or effective quarter had 

come the bald and iterated charge 
that the Senate, as a body, was cor- 
rupt because dominated by those 
who had sold their services and their 
souls to Mammon. In the decade 
from Hoar to Tillman, however, 
scandal following closely upon the 
heels of the piling up of enormous 
fortunes by the Captains of Industry 
and the industrial armies working 
under their direction, fanned by the 
exigencies of changing politics and 
the necessities of politicians, spread 
its influence broadcast with the re- 
sult that today the Senate of the 
United States, individually and col- 
lectively, is the target for such 
malevolent abuse as was probably 
never before heaped upon a legisla- 
tive body. 

At the time Mr. Hoar wrote of the 




Senate, the word "graft'' had not 
been impressed into the popular vo- 
cabulary, and the Captains of Indus- 
try, then known merely as mer- 
chants, manufacturers, industrial 
managers and the like, had not piled 
up the amazing fortunes which have 
become the wonder of the world 
and which have enabled them to 
control municipal bodies, legisla- 
tures and even in some cases the 
courts. Charges of corruption 

against men in high office were by 
no means new to the public and 
unfortunately by no means without 
foundation, but it had not then be- 
come the fashion for the editors of 
widely circulated monthly maga- 
zines and daily newspapers to hold 
up to public scorn as a menace to 
the public welfare and a dishonest 
and immoral person every man in 
public life who happened to be rich 
and who did not see fit to indorse 

every proposition of "reform" legis- 
lation recommended by a radical 
president or advocated by dema- 
gogues, zealots and politicians. This 
is the popular method of warfare to- 
day and there is evidence on every 
hand that the vilification of indivi- 
dual senators so persistently and 
adroitly spread before the reading 
public has created a deep impression 
and lodged in the minds of a large 
majority of the people of the United 
States and possibly of other coun- 
tries the impression that the United 
States Senate is what it is described 
to be, a body of wealthy grafters 
selling their influence and their 
votes to their master, the money 
power, and enacting or defeating 
proposed legislation according to 
the orders received from those who 
have corrupted them. 

It is easy, perhaps, to denounce 
this indictment as false and slander- 
ous but more or less difficult to pre- 
pare comprehensive answers to the 
specifications that have been so 
speciously but at the same time so 
recklessly drawn. To those who 
know the Senate as it is, it is not 
necessary to present a defense for 
they know the baselessness of the 
general charge. From Hoar to Till- 
man there have been many distin- 
guished men in public and private 
life to add the weight of their testi- 
mony on the side of those who main- 
tain not only that the Senate is as a 
whole and in its integral parts both 
able and honorable but that in the 
integrity and intelligence of its per- 
sonnel it has advanced rather than 
deteriorated since that remote and 
somewhat impalpable period known 
as "its best days," when Mr. Hoar 
wrote his modest little paper with 
no thought that it would some day 



vlo its share in forming public opin- 
ion on an absorbing subject of right 
and wrong, the Senate was just be- 
ginning to be called "The Million- 
aire's Club," and public vituperation 
had not yet reached the point of 
daring to state boldly and specifical- 
ly, and. as has since become appar- 
ent, wholly without justification, as 
that brilliant, honest-minded but 
hot-headed, free lance journalist, 
Henr\ Watterson, has done with his 
audacious and attractive pen, that 
the bulk of a vast appropriation of 
money for a public enterprise went 
into the pockets of "the gray wolves 
oi the Senate." The Kentucky edi- 
tor has, however, repeated over and 
over again his ridiculous assertion 
of thievery and without serious re- 
buke from any responsible quarter. 

The epidemic of senatorial assault 
that is running riot at present seems 
to have had its origin in the indict- 
ment by the courts of two senators 
and the legal conviction of one, for 
having sold their influence with pub- 
lic officials in Washington and else- 
where for cash, supplemented by the 
poptdar indictment and conviction 
of Others in connection with modern 
methods of finance. These indict- 
ments have at least been largely 
used as a basis for the sweeping 
"expose" of the Senate as traitorous 
to the interest of the people and 
subservient to the wishes of their 
"bosses" in Wall street and other 
money senators. The actual cause 
-of the widespread outbreak of vilifi- 
cation against the Senate as a body 
seems to be an old one — the disin- 
clination of the Senate to rush head- 
long into the support of propositions 
of radical legislation suggested by 
an eager president hastily presented 
by those who musl go each alternate 

year before the people for a vote of 
confidence and advocated by dema- 
gogues without the wit or the desire 
to first be assured of its merits. Curi- 
ously enough the one person most 
directly responsible for the more re- 
cent series of attacks upon the Sen- 
ate is he who was earliest to rush 
to the defense when specific charges 
of improper motives and dishonest 
actions were recklessly spread broad- 
cast by an army of writers who it 
was at first not unnaturally sup- 
posed he had himself impressed into 
the unholy service — the president of 


the United States. Mr. Roosevelt's 
muck-rake speech served as a call to 
arms but it did not cause the army 
of revilers to beat a retreat. Some 
of their misled allies fled but the 
strategists in the war of vitupera- 
tion have continued their march. 
Some have dropped out of the ranks 

r HE LOYALTY ( ) V T I 1 R S R N A T I 


weary from the unconfined toil and 
others have ceased to fire for lack 
of ammunition, but a few sharp 
shooters are still at work and their 
deadly fire is having more than its 
proper effect. 

President Roosevelt does not deny 


any more than Senator Tillman does 
what Mr. Hoar, if he were alive, 
would be willing to admit, that 
there are among the ninety senators 
a few whose greed for wealth and 
power they make paramount to 
their constituents and to allegiance 
to their oath of office, but the sol- 
emn opinion of all whose opinion is 
worth anything is that the number 
of corrupt men among the ninety is 
very small. These few, moreover, 
are marked men to their colleagues 
if not to the public. It is the reck- 
lessness and ignorance of the maga- 


zine critics as a class that is respons- 
ible for the poisoning of the public 
mind. It is a singular fact that the 
educated, discriminating element of 
the populace are prone to accept as 
gospel truth statements of alleged 
fact that would be laughed at if 
published in the ordinary newspaper 
channels of news. No matter how 
preposterous a story, let it be given 
circulation in one of the popular 
magazines and the public will rise 
to it like a black bass to a gaudy fly; 
whereas in a newspaper, even of the 
most reputable character, it would 
be turned aside as sensational. This 
indictment is particularly true of 
many assertions contained in the 
series of articles now running under 
the title of "The Treason of the Sen- 
ate." The audacity of the word- 

"^ ■''••.. ^4Jy^ 

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slinging and criminality of the libel- 
ous statements contained in this 
series of articles is astonishing for 
this age of denudation of public 
men, and it will be an astonishing 
fact indeed if one or more libel suits 
do not follow their publication. That 
the owner of the magazine that is 
attempting to force itself upon the 
attention of the reading public by 
this campaign of vituperation is also 
the proprietor of the most character- 
less and sensational of all of the 
daily newspapers of this sensational 
age is responsible presumably for 
the hesitation of those attacked to 

strike back. They dread to run the 
gauntlet of the various kinds of 
weapons that the resourceful and 
daring newspaper would bring to 
bear. Much of the criticism of sena- 
tors, including that of the magazine 
referred to, is legitimate, but for the 
most part it is based on a refusal to 
know the truth and an utter disre- 
gard for it when forced upon the 

Vilification in the shape of gen- 
eral denunciatory statements unsup- 
ported by evidence and lacking in 
specification is easy of accomplish- 
ment and difficult of denial. Some- 





thing can be forgiven on the score 
•of ignorance but malice is not easily 
excused. To say that Senator Depew 
is and always has been inherently, 
•persistently and constitutionally cor- 
rupt, and that Senator Aldrich is the 
recognized representative of special 
corporate- interests is safe because 
no denial will serve to convince a 
reader of the falsity of the state- 
ment. But when definite misstate- 
ments of fact are made it is easy to 
refute them. Thus any half-posted 
newspaper correspondent in Wash- 
ington is able to deny certain propo- 
sitions. When, for instance, it is 
•said that the three tariff bills last 
passed by Congress were the result 
of improper manipulation of the 
finance committee through the 
chicanery of Senators Aldrich and 
Gorman, "one being chairman when 
the other is not," the defamer is un- 

done by his own ignorance. Sena- 
tor Gorman never was and never 
will be chairman of the finance com- 
mittee and Senator Aldrich did not 
become chairman until 1899 and 
since then no tariff bill has been en- 
acted. This is merely referred to as 
an illustration of the absolute lack of 
knowledge and disregard for truth 
which is characteristic of all the at- 
tacks. It is given here not to express 
an opinion as to the character of 
the senators mentioned or the wis- 
dom or propriety of their action on 
tariff bills but to demonstrate the 
utter untrustworthiness of many of 
the attacks upon them and their col- 

There are, of course, millionaires 
in the Senate and possibly a few cor- 
rupt ones — as Mr. Bailey says from 
knowledge a very few — and there 
are even multi-millionaires but they 
also are very few indeed compared 
to the whole number. We read so 
much and hear so much about the 
great influence of senators, the lux- 
ury in which they live with their 
palaces and yachts, the enormous 
perquisites of their office, the social 
splendor and political brilliancy of 
their surroundings that a large ele- 
ment of the people are really coming 
to believe that the Senate is indeed 
a veritable Millionaire's Club. Well, 
this will do to tell the marines but 
intelligent citizens of the United 
States in this age of wide reading, 
extensive travel and broad and prac- 
tical general information ought to be 
ashamed to believe it. They should 
know as many of them do know and 
as many more will know as the cam- 
paign of vituperation proceeds with 
its inevitable reaction that it is a 
false and misleading picture. 

It is quite within the bounds of 



truth to say that there are not a 
score of millionaires in the total 
membership which at present with 
three vacancies is eighty-seven. Not 

one in four of the senators would be 
eligible to membership in a million- 
aire's club ami not one-halt of them 
are the owners of steam yachts or 
devotees of any particular kind of 
extravagance or folly. Many sena- 
tors i\o. of course, and it would be 
useless to deny this in the face of 
what is common knowledge, repre- 
sent constituencies dominated by the 
influence of corporate wealth. They 
arc sent to the Senate largely by the 
aid of the railroads and other com- 
binations of capital and in some 
cases it is true, possibly, that they 
are the abject and obedient if not 
willing slaves of their masters. Some 
of these senators are able, strong, 
masterful; others are weaklings and 
exerting such power as goes with 
their own vote in Senate or in com- 
mittee room. But all are marked 
men among their fellows and it does 
not by any means follow that be- 
cause a man from a manufacturing 
or industrial centre is a "Stand-pat- 
ter*' or an advocate of broad court 
review protection for the railroad 
prosecuted for rebating or other un- 
lawful practices that he is therefore 
betraying the cause of the people. 

It i^ a nice thing to be a senator 
if one can afford the luxury. But 
unless a man is very rich or very 
able and brilliant or possesses all 
these advantages he would be better 
off among his neighbors and friends. 
Five thousand Hollars floes not go 
far in Washington although con- 
trary io popular opinion, il is not at 
all an expensive city in which to 
quietly and oul of the glare of 
the lime light. To occupy a house 

big enough and accessible enough 
for entertaining on a large scale re- 
quires a fortune, but to dwell in a 
second class hotel or boarding house, 
to spend the evening by the fire- 
side and to ride to and fro in the 
street cars is no more expensive than 
in any other city of the United 
States. A majority of the senators 
live the simple life and it is a dem- 
onstrable fact that a certain num- 
ber of the whole actually save a part 
of their salary. The legitimate per- 
quisites of a senator consist in a 
secretary or two to attend to the 
correspondence, a messenger to run 
errands, a comfortable and often 
luxurious committee room for his 
private use, the privilege of a free 
barber shop and bath room and an 
allowance of one hundred and twen- 
ty-five dollars a year for "stationery'' 
which includes anything and every- 
thing from writing paper to playing 
cards. Beyond and above all a sena- 
tor is quite a distinct individual from 
an humble member of the House of 
Representatives, he is able to com- 
mand at all times a show of that de- 
ference due to rank that atones for 
many of the less pleasant features 
of exalted station. There are men 
in both Houses today who are prom- 
inent, and in a way influential, 
whose sole equipment is wealth. 
There are those who have nothing 
but their salary who are leaders. 
The late Speaker Reed was a poor 
man when in public life, living in 
modest rooms in a small hotel and 
never a host at entertainments. Yet 
he was a dominating force among 
his fellows, a dictator of legislation 
and a social lion of the very first 

Not everything that Senator Hoar 
thought of the Senate, its mechan- 



ism and its membership found its 
way into print. He was a free com- 
mentator and, as near as any man 
could be, possibly, a just critic. He 
was a shrewd judge of men and be- 
ing an uncompromising foe of ras- 
cals he could recognize one on sight. 
Riding with a friend to Boston one 
day, a few years only before his 
death, he fell to talking about the 
Senate and its personnel. As the 
train drew into New Haven where 
the station was as usual bustling 
with busy men going to and from 
the trains pursuing their customary 
avocations, he smiled and in a reflec- 
tive sort of a way said : "Now look 
at those men out there. They are 
the prevailing American type. Study 
them individually and you will 
notice how generally alike they are 
and all apparently of about the same 
standard of physical strength and, as 
far as we can judge by their coun- 
tenances, of intellectuality. Now, 
you know, a senator is regarded as 
in a way a man apart and above the 
ordinary run of citizens, but I hon- 
estly believe that taking us as a body 
we would not rank higher than the 
average of those fellow citizens of 
ours out there. These men are look- 
ing out for their own private busi- 
ness interests and we for the inter- 
ests of the public. We keep our ears 
closer to the ground and are more 
au fait, perhaps, than they but I 
think they would average up even 
with the members of the United 
States Senate." 

That is it. Senators are as a rule 
about on a par with the average of 
the better classes of their constitu- 
ents. They are no better and no 
worse. Certainly they are no more 
open to the charge of being corrupt. 
The present epidemic of attack upon 

the personnel of the Senate as well 
as the body itself seems to have 
reached its crisis during the struggle 
over the framing of the freight rate 
bill which has just become a law. 
Under the inspiration and initiative 
of President Roosevelt the people 
have clamored for a law giving a 
government board power to fix rates 
and to put an end to the payment of 
rebates and discriminations of all 
sorts and they have got it. For this, 
undoubtedly, the country is to be 
congratulated but certainly no well 
informed and fair minded person cap- 
able of giving an intelligent opinion 
upon a popular question will con- 
tend that in order to effect the pass- 
age of this law — which may or may 
not fulfill their expectations and 
bring forth the millennium — it was 
necessary to assail the Senate as a 
body controlled by the railroads and 
to besmirch the public and private 
character of that group of senators 
who originally doubting the wisdom 
or necessity of the President's policy 
yet yielded to the force of public 
opinion and thereafter sought only 
to frame a measure that would sur- 
round the carrier as the shipper with 
the protection of appeal to the 
courts and put an end to such abuse 
as might be found actually to exist. 
Neither was it wise or necessary in 
order to offset the influence and the 
labors of those men to educate the 
country into the belief that Senator 
Bailey of Texas, whose tenets of 
character are as conspicuous to his 
colleagues as his virtues are to the 
general public, in a practical and far- 
seeing statement because he hap- 
pened to make a plausible and lucid 
speech on a legal proposition after- 
ward rejected in the Senate by an 
overwhelming vote ; nor was it the 

1 4 


pan of patriotism to hold Up Senator 
Tillman of South Carolina, the crud- 
est, most uncertain and most dan- 
gerous firebrand — albeit fearless and 
able — who, perhaps, ever sat in the 
Senate as a paragon of virtue be- 
cause forsooth, circumstance made 
him out President Roosevelt's co- 
worker in a common sense. 

That Mr. Bailey is not a sound 
lawyer or accurate logician is dem- 
onstrated by the rebuke which the 
lawyer gave to his legal reasoning; 
that his abilities are not of the prac- 
tical kind to enable him to hit upon 
the common sense solution of the 
vexing problem and his nature not 
of the philosophic mold to teach him 
to bear adversity bravely is shown 
by the failure of his compromise 
proposition and his childish and ill- 
tempered assault upon the President 
and the newspaper press when the 
failure of this strangely formed 
'coalition was discovered. As for 
Mr. Tillman he may be, as he so 
persistently says he is, an honest 
man : no doubt he is but it must be 
a warm admirer indeed, who can as- 
sert seriously that he is one whose 
advice as to the wisdom of proposed 
islation is worthy of serious con- 
sideration. Yet so eager were a ma- 
jority, a very large majority, prob- 
ably, of the people of the United 
^tatc^ to follow lead of the President 
in behalf of a law to regulate and 
control <'i subject of which very few 
of them had the merest superficial 
knowledge, that they were ready to 
accept the advice of Pailey and At- 
torney General Moody as against 
mse1 of such niher lawyers 
Knox, Spooner, Foraker 
and Lodge and Secretaries Taft and 
Rool 'Hid to ignore the warnings of 
practical, successful, resourceful 

business men, well informed, experi- 
enced and sagacious, like Senators 
Aldrich, Crane, Kean and Allison, 
in order to hang on the irresponsible 
and dangerous words of such a ver- 
itable wild man as Mr. Tillman. 

It is a peculiarity of the popular 
mind when aroused that it loses 
sight of the true relationship of men 
and things and flings temporarily to 
the winds logic, reason and com- 
mon-sense in the burning desire to 
do something, whether the right or 
the wrong thing, to bring about 
some "reform" upon which it has, 
however thoughtlessly, set its heart. 
Thus it happened that the people, 
speaking through the public press, 
in the eagerness to sustain the Pres- 
ident in his attitude of champion of 
the masses fell upon Senator Nelson 
W. Aldrich of Rhode Island as the 
incarnation of wickedness because 
he, conceding in the earliest days of 
the rate bill discussion with that 
prescience which he possesses in a 
most remarkable degree, that the 
President and the people must have 
their way, sought to give to the rail- 
roads the right of appeal to the 
courts as against the dictate of a 
civilian commission of five poli- 
ticians. The Senator has been de- 
nounced from one end of the land to 
the other as a traitor to his state 
and to the people at large, the 
"agent of the railroads," "the repre- 
sentative of 'special interests' " and 
"the corrupt protector of the Stand- 
ard Oil Company," the only tangible 
evidence of the truth of the charges 
being the wholly irrelevant fact (for 
which possibly Senator Aldrich is 
in no way responsible), that his 
daughter is married to the only son 
of John D. Rockefeller. Ignoring 
the Senator's record of twenty-five 



years in the Senate, as honorable as 
it has been intelligent, so far at least 
as the public records show, ignoring 
the fact that his colleagues on both 
sides of the chamber concede him 
to be the man of the most concrete 
ability in it, and ignoring, more- 
over, his consummate power and 
success as an astute political leader 
which have enabled him so long to 
hold his party in the Senate together 
in support of those measures which 
they have advocated, the fickle pub- 
lic brought to bear upon him their 
batteries of accusation and denunci- 
ation, forgetting, characteristically 
enough in their new-born zeal, that 
the men who upheld him in his fight 
are among the most able, the most 
patriotic, the most honorable, the 
most experienced and the most sin- 
cere in public life. If Senator Aldrich 
in the rate bill fight played the role 
of a railroad agent then what can be 
said of the part assumed by Senator 
W. Murray Crane of Massachusetts 
who as a colleague in the Inter-State 
Commerce Committee stood shoul- 
der to shoulder with Mr. Aldrich 
and did as much, perhaps, as the 
latter, so far as in his possibly lesser 
power lay. to safeguard invested 
capital against the assault of those 
who sought ruthlessly to destroy it? 
Is Senator Aldrich, regarded by 
common consent and not designated 
in a more formal way as the man- 
ager of the Senate Republicans who 
advocated and forced the "broad court 
review" amendment to the Lodge- 
podge Hepburn rate bill, more 
properly the subject for reproach 
and contumely than Senator Crane? 
Yet no one has dared to whisper a 
word against the character or the 
motives of the Massachusetts Sena- 
tor. What is sauce for the goose 

should be sauce for the gander. 

Some one has said and justly that 
the American people are apt to go 
wrong at the outset of a discussion 
of any new public question but cer- 
tain to get on the right side before 
its close. 

This reflection is essentially true 
and especially applicable to the 
United States Senate. How can its 
verdict be regarded as other than a 
tribute to the sagacity of the so- 
called "conservative" senators who 
under the leadership of Mr. Aldrich 
supplied the one thing needful to 
make the rate bill a measure that if 
it shall ever be made to serve the 
purpose for which it was conceived 
and this in the opinion of many 
thoughtful men, including railroad 
experts, is doubtful in the extreme — 
constitutional and at the same time 
saved to the Republican party of 
which they are also leaders, the 
credit of having passed it in re- 
sponse to the demands of the Presi- 
dent and the people? 

Xo incident of the long drawn out 
and bitter controversy was more 
misunderstood than the sudden 
transfer of the rate bill to the tender 
care of Mr. Tillman when the three 
Demo-Republicans on the Inter- 
State Commerce Committee. Cullom, 
Dolliver and Clapp. joined hands 
with the five Democrats of w r hich 
Mr. Tillman was the ranking one, 
to force it through in the half-baked 
shape in which it came from the 
House without the safeguards with 
which the conservative senators 
thought it should be surrounded. 
This was not "peanut" politics in- 
tended "to put the President in the 
hole." Xor was it a "colossal blun- 
der'' on the part of the Republican 
leaders. It was the logical course 



for the four "conservative" Republi- 
cans on the committee, Aldrich, 
Foraker, Crane and ECean, constitut- 
ing a majority oi the seven Republi- 
can members, to take. It it was to 
be a Democratic bill then the Demo- 
crats must be made to father it. 

There was absolutely no merit in 
the incoherent argument that Mr. 
Dolliver should take charge of the 
bill because he and his two Republi- 
can colleagues were a minority of 
the eight senators on the committee 
(five Democrats) who formed a ma- 
jority of the total of thirteen in favor 
of reporting the Hepburn bill amend- 
ed. Mr. Tillman, moreover, was 
chosen because of the rule of the 
parliamentary procedure and dic- 
tates of senatorial courtesy which 
gives the ranking men of the ma- 
jority side favoring the bill the 
honor of reporting it. Instead of a 
blunder or a trick this proceeding 
was the essence of strategic leader- 
ship and fair dealing which it is not 
too much to say Mr. Aldrich alone 
had the wit and courage to inaugur- 
ate at the instant the unprecedented 
situation arose. It may be worth 
while to those who have formed a 
hasty judgment on the phase of the 
controversy to examine carefully 
this truthful but possibly clumsy 
analysis of it. 

To reach a determination of 

whether the President or Senator 
Aldrich won the honors of the com- 
bat it is only necessary to read the 
speeches of Tillman and Bailey, who 
having conspired with the President 
to outwit the majority of his party 
in the Senate were directed by him 
at the moment of victory and looked 
shocked, indignant and tearful while 
the Republicans of the Senate al- 
most to a man filed up in support of 
the amendment advocated by Sena- 
tor Aldrich and his conservative col- 
leagues. But the consideration of 
who was victorious and who was de- 
feated pales into insignificance in 
the face of the more important con- 
sideration that the Senate once more 
stood up bravely and doggedly in 
the face of misrepresentation and 
abuse a veritable stone wall against 
the assault of the demagogic House 
of Representatives, whose members 
have their ears alw r ays close to the 
ground, upon the rights of that large 
class of the American people who 
are the owners and operators of lines 
of transportation. Unlimited free- 
dom of debate and the unrestricted 
liberty of a body each of whose 
members is the "Ambassador of a 
sovereign state" again rendered a 
service to the people of inestimable 
value and for which at no distant 
day the people may make due ac- 

Continued in the Next Number 


By Eugene C. Dolson 

Not the vain dream to level man with man, 
But freedom for each soul to rise unto 

That work which Nature's great, unerring plan 
Has fitted him to do. 

A Radical Forecast 

By Frank Putnam 

LET me say in the beginning 
that my point of view is that 
of a man who hopes for that 
which he predicts. You will then be 
able to discount my prejudices; yet 
I caution you against too complac- 
ently waving aside the predictions 
here to be set down on the ground 
that the wish is father to the 
thought. It is entirely possible, at 
least, that what I shall say to you 
may be worth serious consideration. 

Roosevelt the Last Republican 

Firstly, Theodore Roosevelt, in 
my opinion, is the last Republican 
president. His party, so strongly 
entrenched in office, is nevertheless 
on the verge of dissolution, to which 
end it moves as certainly as did the 
Whig party in the years just before 
the Civil War. It is possible that 
the Republican party could win in 
1908 with Mr. Roosevelt as its 
standard-bearer, but he has said he 
will not make the race again, and he 
is a man of his word. Should his 
party nominate Fairbanks, Taft or 
any other conservative, he would be 
beaten worse than Parker was 
beaten in 1904. And should the 
choice of the Republican Convention 
be some such "progressive" as 
Cummins of Iowa or LaFoHette of 
Wisconsin, he would be equally 
doomed to defeat, for two good and 
sufficient reasons: primarily, he 
would not receive the support of or- 

ganized capital, but would be fought 
by it; secondarily, he could not hope 
to win the favor of radical voters, 
however much they might admire 
him personally, because of the cer- 
tainty that the princes of special 
privilege would balk him, if they 
could not rule him, in office. 


Hearst's Fatal Blunder 

Secondly, William R. Hearst has 
committed political suicide by his 
twin declarations, of recent date, 
that he "is opposed to Socialism," 
and that he "does not menace Cap- 
ital." And, say what you will, he 
was, until the publication of these 
declarations, a dangerous contender 
for his party's nomination to the 
presidency in 1908. He has now 
destroyed his chance of victory in 
not only 1908, but in any later year. 
Needless to say, Mr. Hearst as 
the "conservative" friend and pro- 
tector of organized capital, and as 
the foe of "socialism," in a day 
when, according to the conservative 
Republican Boston Journal, every 
American is more or less a Social- 
ist, will swiftly lose his hold on the 
hearts of the radical millions who 
lately looked to him for leadership. 
As long as he stood flatly for the 
radicals, he was a presidential pos- 
sibility; but the minute it appears 
he is playing both ends against the 
middle, he will "fade away," never 
to return. 




Thirdly, since 1 have decided not 
again to permit the Republicans to 
elect a president. I must indicate 
from what direction the next presi- 
dent is to appear. Obviously, we 
must have a president. Very well, 
then. I predict that the next presi- 
dent of the United States will be a 
Democrat, and that his name will be 
William J. Bryan. I predict further 
that he will win on the issue of 
public ownership of railroads and 
that his electoral plurality will ex- 
ceed that of Mr. Roosevelt in 1904. 

The Weight on the Safety Valve 

Organized capital in the United 
States has no saner, wiser friend 
than Theodore Roosevelt — but, un- 
fortunately for its future, it doesn't 
appear to have sense enough to 
grasp that fact. Had it possessed 
the simple, candid wisdom of a ten- 
year-old child, it would have di- 
rected its Senate and House of Rep- 
resentatives at Washington, during 
the late session, to grant promptly, 
and with a handsome air of pleased 
acquiescence, every single item of 
the legislative program offered by 
the president. That it did not so, 
that it directed its Senate and 
House of Representatives to fight 
the president's popular policies at 
every step in the road, and that it 
defeated at least one vital factor in 
his program — free trade with our 
Philippine dependencies — besides 
crippling most of the measures in 
which it pretended to enact the 
other main items of his program, — 
its fatal error. By that course 
of action, organized capital proved 
itself penny wise and pound foolish. 
It fixed a weight upon the safety- 

valve of popular feeling and so in- 
sured an explosion, or, more likely, 
a series of explosions, that will scat- 
ter it across a great deal of scenery 
during the next ten years. Happy 
is the party that has the gift of com- 
promise, for it shall dwell long in 
the land. This gift of compromise 
has for two-score vears been the 
most valuable asset of the Republi- 
can party, the means by which it 
took the lead in constructive legisla- 
tion and wrote its early glorious 
record into American history. Its 
finish became evident when, under 
the Louis XV. leadership of Mark 
Hanna, it forgot the gift of com- 
promise and began stubbornly 
"standing pat." The eternal law of 
change has no mercy on man or in- 
stitution that attempts to stand pat. 
Either must move forward or 
perish under the wheels of progress. 
The slave-holders, you will recall, 
also stood pat. 

Colonel Bryan of Nebraska 

It is worth noting that Mr. 
Bryan's declaration that he is today 
more radical than he was in 1900 
has put an end to his booming in 
the journals of organized capital. 
Only a few months ago they hailed 
him as the: "conservative leader of 
his party." His essay in the Cen- 
tury Magazine, defining his attitude 
in opposition to extreme theoretical 
socialism for American use, awoke in 
their breasts a hope that Bryan had' 
decided "to be good," as they un- 
derstand that phrase. So they 
greeted him in effusive editorials,, 
and in the public utterances of their 
lawyers in and out of public office, 
as the conservative hope of his party 



for 1908. He would do, they fig- 
ured, to kill off the horrible Hearst, 
who had pursued them in and out 
of the courts with relentless ferocity, 
and who seemed (to them) not un- 
likely to win the Democratic nomi- 
nation on a platform of wholesale 

Mr. Bryan, with cruel ingratitude, 
hastened to destroy their hopes: he 
had not, he said, abated one jot of 
the convictions that he fought for 
in 1896 and 1900, and he held even 
more radical views, in some partic- 
ulars, now than then. So the news- 
paper exponents of organized cap- 
ital called in their Bryan editorials, 
and have since adopted a grieved 
and querulous tone in their discus- 
sion of his rising boom. 

Witness Mr. Hearst, on the other 
hand, hastening to bid for the sup- 
port of organized capital, with his 
declarations quoted heretofore. 
Witness him, in the near future, fall- 
ing ingloriously between two stools. 
And his disappointment will hardly 
be greater than my own, let me 
frankly confess, since not ten days 
ago, as this article is written, I 
would have bet my beard that he 
would be the next president of the 
United Slates. I figured that he 
would w T in the support of all the rad- 
icals not actually enrolled in the So- 
cialist party, and of a majority of 
the progressive middle class folks as 
well. But it was not to be, and we 
must both e'en support our grief as 
best we can. He at least will be a 
better and safer editorial guide when 
he has been cured of political ambi- 

So far as he goes — and of 
course he doesn't go far enough 
to satisfy me, though very likely 
he will go as far in 1908 as 

a majority of his countrymen 
are willing to follow anybody — 
Mr. Bryan, like Mr. Roosevelt, is 
time-tried and fire-tested. We know 
where he stands, and we know we 
can rely on him to keep his prom- 
ises as far as in his power lies. If he 
was in advance of his country ten 
years ago, and six years ago, he is 
not so today. The princes of special 
privilege know that he will do his 
best to enforce existing laws against 
them, even though he does not 
gratify the Socialists by urging laws 
more progressive than those which 
now idly adorn the statute books. 
The great capitalists want none of 
him. And precisely for that reason 
a majority of the plain people, in my 
opinion, will prefer him over any 
other candidate that can be named 
in 1908. 

Not Yet But Soon 

We Socialists will work and vote 
for our own nominee, confident that 
Mr. Bryan will easily defeat any 
man the Republicans may set 
against him. And we expect to 
show such gains as will astonish the 
country even more than the phe- 
nomenal gains made in 1904. I 
personally do not despair of seeing 
Eugene Debs seated in the White 
House, flanked by a socialist ma- 
jority in the House of Representa- 
tives and held somewhat in check by 
a Senate ponderously but not un- 
wisely weighing and considering 
whatever schemes of equitable ex- 
propriation are brought before it. 

Meantime, it is extremely com- 
forting to reflect that there is not 
the slightest chance of the election 
of any future president more "con- 

1 -J 


servative" than Mr. Roosevelt or 
Mr. Bryan. Nor will there be, in 
my opinion, any future House of 
Representatives so wickedly subser- 
vient to organized capital as that 
one whose proceedings at the late 
- ssion disappointed the president 
and the country, nor any future Sen- 
ate so arrogantly defiant of the best 
sentiment of fair-minded citizens of 
all parties as that one which now 
yields to the leadership of open and 
unabashed agents of the chief of the 
predatory industrial trusts and 
m< >ney combines. 

Some Interesting State Campaigns 

When I tell the editor of the New 
England Magazine that I believe 
John B. Moran will be the next gov- 
ernor of Massachusetts, he smiles in 
a benevolent, semi-paternal fashion. 
He doesn't believe in any such non- 
sense — bless you, no! Maybe you 
don't either. Possibly neither of 
you would be very deeply grieved if 
Mr. Moran should be elected gov- 
ernor — but. well, you know Massa- 
chusetts is safely Republican, and 
she hasn't the habit of sending any- 
one up to the governor's chamber 
on such short notice. You have 
both known Massachusetts longer 
than I have, and so you convince me, 
logically, that my expectation is ab- 
surd; but, like the woman con- 
vinced against her will, I am of the 
same opinion still. Moran for me, 
every time. When any public man 
wakes up the voters with live issues, 
raising elections from the level of 
mere partisan scrambles for office to 
the dignity of a combat for a prin- 
ciple, he is mighty likely, I have ob- 
served, to win a favorable verdict at 

the polls. In this instance, the Man 
Who Dares appeals to me as a much 
more inspiring character than any 
of the contractors and corporation 
lawyers who have led — or should I 
say misled? — the Massachusetts de- 
mocracy during my five years resi- 
dence in the state. Mr. Lodge is a 
dignified figure, no doubt; Mr. 
Guild fulfills admirably the polite 
conception of a governor of the Bay- 
State, and Mr. Crane is without 
doubt a man who has not an enemy 
on earth; but the state has to judge, 
at the fall elections, not only the way 
in which they and their associates 
have managed state affairs, but also 
the results of their party's adminis- 
tration of national affairs. And 
there are signs, even within their 
party, that the state is not wholly 
satisfied with the way events have 
been shaped during the last year, 
either at Washington or in the State 
House at Boston. How far this dis- 
satisfaction will affect the fall elec- 
tions we must wait to learn. It is be- 
cause I believe Massachusetts is still 
literally the salt of the earth that I 
expect to see her reward faithful and 
fearless public service in the case of 
John B. Moran. 

Literature vs. Transportation, in 
New Hampshire, is too deep a puz- 
zle for me. The issue seems clear 
enough, at this distance, and it 
seems the state ought to decide 
to limit her great railway sys- 
tem to its legitimate business 
of carrying passengers and freight; 
but, of course, if New Hamp- 
shire finds it Cheaper or in 
any other way more desirable to 
farm out her government to the rail- 
way than to administer it herself, 
why, I suppose she will continue to 
do so. And if that kind of thing 



satisfies New Hampshire, I have still 
enough faith in state's rights to feel 
that she ought to be permitted to 
take her own course without any 
calling of harsh names. 

At the conclusion of the Iowa Re- 
publican state convention, one of 
the disappointed delegates of the 
stand-pat railway faction declared 
that the convention "had gone dem- 
ocratic." And I don't know but it 
did. The platform was mild enough, 
but the men on the ticket are as 
strongly anti-corporation, almost, as 
the men on the Iowa Socialist ticket, 
and a good deal more so than their 
rivals on the Democratic ticket. I 
fancy Mr. Cummins, the Republican 
nominee, will win, even though the 
stand-patters make good their 
threat to support the Democratic 
nominee, and that the Socialists will 
show decided gains. 


A Real "Battle-to-the-Death" 

A situation quite unique in our 
jjolitical history appears in Colo- 
rado. Mr. William D. Haywood, 
the Socialist nominee for gfovernor, 
is confined in the state prison at 
Caldwell, Idaho, charged with con- 
spiring to accomplish the murder of 
former Governor Frank Steunenberg 
of Idaho. Mr. Haywood is one of 
the chief officers of the Western 
Miners' Federation. His friends de- 
clare the charge against him is 
trumped up, that it is supported only 
by the word of Harry Orchard, a 
self-confessed, all-around scamp, long 
a practitioner of every crime from 
murder down, and by McParland, a 
notorious "detective," retained by 
the associated western mine owners 
to break up the Miners' Federation 

by hanging its officers. Confined 
with Mr. Haywood are Mr. Moyer 
and Mr. Pettibone, also general of- 
ficers of the Federation. There is no 
doubt, and no denial, of the fact that 
the three men were literally kid- 
napped by the agents of the mine 
owners, in collusion with Governor 
McDonald of Colorado and Gover- 
nor Gooding of Idaho, and were hur- 
ried without due warrant of law out 
of their own state into another. 
Their advocates predict that their 
cases will never be brought to trial, 
now that the attention of millions of 
organized workingmen throughout 
the country has been focused upon 
the situation. When Eugene Debs 
was on trial at Chicago, the govern- 
ment's lawyers, seeing their case in 
danger of failing utterly, induced 
judge Grosscup to take it away from 
the jury and leave it hanging in mid- 
air, where it has hung to this day — 
unfinished business — in spite of Mr. 
Debs' numerous attempts to have it 
brought to a conclusion. And I shall 
not be surprised if the Colorado- 
Idaho cases finish in like fashion. 

I have read every scrap of news 
report bearing on either side of these 
cases that I could get hold of, and I 
have yet to see in any part of the re- 
ports anything to suggest a sane mo- 
tive for the murder of Mr. Steunen- 
berg by the officers of the Western 
Miners' Federation. It appears, too, 
that he had a good many personal 
enemies much more likely to wreak 
vengeance on him for old grievances. 
Moreover, I know that the men who 
accuse Haywood, Moyer and Petti- 
bone are the same men — or their 
agents —who have plundered the 
whole country for years — witness 
the exposures of the "muck-rakers," 
the messages of President Roose- 



volt and other credible witnesses. 
The accusers in these cases are the 
members, associates, beneficiaries 
and agents of the same Standard Oil 
OCtupUS that owns and operates 
most oi the Rocky Mountain coal 
and oil fields and that is rapidly ac- 
quiring ownership or control of en- 
tirely too many other big industries. 
The testimony of such men carries 
small weight with me. I doubt if 1 
could believe them under oath in any 
case where they had the smallest sel- 
fish interest at stake. Perhaps I do 
them an injustice, but they have edu- 
cated me to this belief. And in this 
case of the miners' leaders, they have 
large interests at stake, because the 
members of the Western Miners' 
Federation are socialists almost to 
a man. The miners advocate and 
vote for public ownership and oper- 
ation of oil fields and coal mines. 
Capitalism of the Standard Oil kind, 
therefore, has the strongest conceiv- 
able motive for seeking to discredit 
and disgrace them. 

The miners' leaders in prison at 
Caldwell, Idaho, had everything to 
gain by working on peaceful lines, 
everything to lose by meeting vio- 
lence with violence. They are men 
of large and fine intelligence; men 
respected and loved by their neigh- 
bors; men in whose records noth- 
ing appears to indicate a criminal in- 
stinct; men far more law-abiding 
than their accusers ; men in every re- 
spect, except in getting-and-keeping, 

superior to their accusers ; men pre- 
sumed to be innocent until proven 
guilty; men who have repeatedly 
been accused by their foes of grave 
crimes, but who have never been 
confronted with sufficient proof of 
guilt to hold them for trial, even in 
courts controlled by their foes, the 
mine operators ; men who coun- 
seled peace and submission when a 
brutal militia fired into their peace- 
ful assembly hall, broke up their 
meeting, hunted them like wild ani- 
mals into the hills, drove their wives 
and children out of their homes, 
herded these innocents into cattle 
cars, carried them under armed 
guard across the Kansas line and 
dumped them down on the prairie to 
live or die as they could; men who 
counseled submission under all this, 
hopeful that in time they could get 
justice through the machinery of the 
law. These are the men who at the 
present day lie in Caldwell jail, 
charged with murder. 

Pennsylvania under Quay was bad 
enough, and Rhode Island under Al- 
drich is possibly worse, but Colorado 
under the Standard Oil's satraps is 
the limit. I shall be surprised if the 
Centennial State does not rebuke 
these greedy capitalistic carpet-bag- 
gers by electing Mr. Haywood gov- 
ernor. Stranger things have taken 
place in American history. And this, 
please bear in mind, is a time when 
almost any startling shift in politics 
may be expected. 

New England Women Humorists 

By Kate Sanborn 

SOME time ago, I received a 
letter from a person entirely 
unknown to me asking that I 
send "at once, or it would be of no 
avail," a sketch of myself, latest 
photo, my most humorous passages, 
and "tell me the names of the New 
England women you consider hu- 

I was suffering from rheumatic 
gout at the time and didn't feel fun- 
ny at all, and this series of demands 
of one who does not keep photos, 
autobiography, and humorous pas- 
sages and lists of humorous women, 
on tap for male searchers for copy, 
wearied me. I replied, begging to 
be omitted from this valuable article. 
But of no avail! I was put in as 
professing to think humor was a sin 
and of course the date of my birth 
(39 B. C.) was prominently conspic- 

And he made this extraordinary 
statement: "I do not recall many 
humorists among the literary wom- 
en of New England." 

No? Ah me! I see I'm in for it 
again ! I have wasted quite a por- 
tion of my life answering and con- 
tradicting men who stubbornly in- 
sisted that women had no sense of 
humor. It was all of no use ! They 
will not be convinced. I am sure 
that no man ever bought a copy of 
,my large volume on "The Wit of 
Women." I have sent it to several as 
a gift but they never acknowledged 
its receipt. At last Mr. Higginson 
wrote me, "Do not waste any 

more of your time and your good 
brain on that silly topic. If any man 
who lives is such a fool as to say 
that woman does not often possess 
both wit and humor, then he is be- 
neath your notice." 

We all know that the first wife of 
Mr. Higginson was a brilliant wit, 
noted for her clever sayings, many 
of which he has preserved in his 
novel "Malbone." 

I own Mr. Higginson gave me 
sensible advice but this latest male 
to dabble with the theme does not 
say New England women have not 
wit, but simply says he does not 
know of it. 

So I must add a few names to his 
meagre list. 

Oh, I forgot to confess that I am 
"gun shy" when approached by in- 
terviewers as to my own slender 
achievements ever since I did accede 
to a similar request from a youth 
in California and read later: " Un- 
fortunately Miss Sanborn takes her- 
self too seriously as a humorist." 
So if one avoids "Skilly" he runs in- 
to "Scarabogus," as someone put it. 

Our literary Foremothers of New 
England were not witty; had no 
humor. They were tediously sa- 
tirical; tried in a cumbersome way 
to be humorous but failed. Mercy 
Warren was a Satirist quite in the 
strain of Juvenal, only stilted and 
artificial. Hon. John Winthrop con- 
sulted her on the proposed suspen- 
sion of trade with England in all but 
the necessaries of life, and she play- 



fully gives a list of articles that 
would be included in that word. 

"An inventory clear 
Oi all she needs Lamira offers here: 
Nor does she tear a rigid Cato's frown, 
When she lays by the rich embroidered 

And modestly compounds for jnst enough, 
Perhaps some dozens of mere flighty stuff: 
With lawns and lute strings, blonde and 

Mechlin laces. 
Fringes and jewels, fans and tweezer- 

cases ; 
Gay cloaks and hat, of every shape and 

Scarfs, cardinals, and ribands, of all dyes. 
With ruffles stamped and aprons of tam- 
Tippets and handkerchiefs, at least three- 
score ; 
With nnest muslins that fair India boasts. 
And the choice herbage from Chinesian 

coasts ; 
Add feathers, furs, rich satins, and ducapes, 
And head-dresses in pyramidal shapes ; 
Sideboards of plate and porcelain profuse, 
With fifty dittoes that the ladies use. 
So weak Lamira and her wants so few 
Who can refuse? they're but the sex's 

That's enough for the early dames. 

Mrs. Sigourney was amusing, 
because so absolutely destitute of 
humor: as Howells says, a woman 
is only unconsciously humorous; 
that is when she is making a goose 
of herself. (The women he depicts 
illustrate his theory.) Mrs. Sigour- 
ney's style, a feminine Johnsonese, 
is absurdly strained and hifalutin. 
She thus alludes to green apples: 
"From the time of their first taking 
on orbicular shape, and when it 
might be supposed their hardness 
and acidity would repulse all save 
elephantine tusks and ostrich stom- 
achs, they were the prey of roaming 

She preserved, however, a long 
list of requests for poems for special 
occasions which shows she had a 
sense of humor. Here i s part of it: 

"Some verses were desired as an 
elegy on a pet canary accidentally 
drowned in a barrel of swine's food. 
An ode on the dog-star Sirius. 
To punctuate a three-volume nov- 
el for an author who complained 
that the work of punctuating always 
brought on a pain in the small of 
his back. 

An elegy on a young man, one of 
the nine children of a judge of pro- 

Catharine Sedgwick showed in 
her letters a sense of humor as when 
speaking of a novel, she said: 
"There is too much force for the 
subject. As if a railroad should be 
built and a locomotive started to 
transport skeletons, specimens, and 
one bird of Paradise." 

Mrs. Caroline Gilman, born in 
1794, author of "Recollections of a 
Southern Matron," wrote several 
playful and humorous poems, 
"Joshua's Courtship" being comical 
enough to be copied entire. 

"Fanny Fern," daughter of Rich- 
ard Storrs Willis, and wife of James 
Parton, showed lots of sparkling wit 
as well as ginger in snappy, auda- 
cious, fearless articles in the Ledger. 
The wit and humor of Mrs. Stowe 
needs no defence. I regard her 
"Canal Boat" as one of the most 
comical descriptions ever written of 
a night's horrors for travellers. It 
may be found in her volume of New 
England stories called "The May- 
flower," little known now. And why 
isn't Sam Lawson fully as original 
and entertaining as Sam Weller? 
Hannah F. Gould wrote many 
graceful and playful verses and 
some that would stand comparison 
with Saxe. Witness her epitaph on 
her friend, the active and aggressive 
Caleb dishing. 



"Lay aside, all ye dead, 

For in the next bed 

Reposes the body of Cushing; 

He has crowded his way 

Through the world, they say, 

And even though dead will be pushing." 

Miss Sedgwick dealt somewhat in 
epigrams, as when she says : "He 
was not one of those convenient 
single people who are used, as we 
use straw and cotton in packing, to 
fill up vacant places." 

Epigrams in verse are very rare; 
the kind I mean that deserve to live. 
Just here I would like to quote Eliza 
Leslie; the "Lady from Philadel- 
phia," and Mrs. Whitcher, of "Wid- 
ow Bedott" fame, who was a New 
Yorker. Many of our late literary 
women excel in the epigrammatic 
form in sentences crisp and laconic. 

Gail Hamilton's books fairly 
scintilate with epigrams, and her 
conversation was sparkling with 
them as when she told a clergyman 
who was living with his fourth wife 
and was terribly severe on the Mor- 
mons : "The only difference I see is 
that the Mormon drives four abreast 
while you prefer a tandem team !" 

Kate Field left many a witty 
thought in this condensed form, as, 
"Relations, like features are thrust 
upon us ; companions, like clothes, 
are more or less of our own selec- 

Miss Jewett's books are full of 
the most delicate yet irresistible 
humor. Speaking of a person who 
was always complaining, she says : 
"Nothing ever suits her. She ain' 
had no more troubles to bear than 
the rest of us, but you never see her 
that she didn't have a chapter to lay 
before ye. I've got's much feelin' as 
the next one, but when folks drives 
in their spiggits and wants to draw 
a bucketful o' compassion every day 

right straight along, there does 
come a time when it seems as if the 
bar'l was getting low." 

"Emory Ann," a creation of the 
late Mrs. Whitney, often spoke in 
epigrams, as "Good looks are a 
snare : especially to them that 
haven't got 'em." 

Mrs. Walker's creed, "I believe 
in the total depravity of inanimate 
things," is more than an epigram, it 
is an inspiration. 

Charlotte Fiske Bates, who com- 
piled the "Cambridge Book of Poet- 
ry," often gives an epigrammatic 
turn to a witty thought, as : 

"Would you sketch in two words a co- 
quette and deceiver? 

Name two Irish geniuses, Lover and 

My dear friend, Mrs. Fannie Bar- 
rows, the beloved "Aunt Fanny," 
whose Saturday evenings in New 
York were renowned for the number 
of famous persons who crowded into 
her charming parlors, sure of a hap- 
py time, was always perpetrating 
delicious bons mots and jeux d' es- 
prit and exquisite nonsense, which 
must have humor to be exquisite. 
She once sent a couple of peanut 
owls to Bryant and the aged poet 
was greatly amused with the accom- 
panying doggerel : 

"When great Minerva chose the Owl, 

That bird of solemn phiz, 

That truly awful-looking fowl, 

To represent her wis- 

Dom, little recked the goddess of 

The time when she would howl 

To see a Peanut set on end, 

And called — Minerva's Owl." 

Mrs. Phelps Ward is one of the 
wittiest women and her epigrams 
are as fine as they are plentiful. 

"No men are so fussy about what 
they eat as those who think their 
brains the biggest part of them." 



"As a rule, a man can't cultivate 
his moustache and his talents impar- 

"As happy as a kind hearted old 
lady with a funeral to go to." 

Rose Terry Cooke was another 
perpetually witty woman. Listen 
to Lavinia, one of her sensible Yan- 
kee women : "Marryin' a man ain't 
like setting alongside of him nights 
and hearin' him talk pretty; that's 
the fust prayer. There's lots an 
lots o' meetin' after that." 

"Land ! if you want to know folks, 
just hire out to 'em. They take off 
their wigs afore their help, so to 
speak, seemingly." 

I remember that when speaking 
to me of a lady who had seen bet- 
ter days, she said, "She's what they 
call a decayed gentlewoman," then 
added, "but not offensively so !" 

Don't forget Louisa Alcott with 
her "Transcendental Wild Oats," or 
Mary Mapes Dodge, so long the 
Editor of St. Nicholas, with her es- 
say on "The Insanity of Cain," and 
"Miss Molony on the Chinese 

Sarah Cowell had the honor of 
reading this before the Prince of 
Wales, who was fairly convulsed 
by its fun. (Dear! must cut her 
out; a New Yorker). And Dr. 
Hale's two witty sisters; Lucretia 
and Susan. Get out the "Peterkin" 
letters and reread them ; also the 
"William Henry Letters," by Abby 
Morton Diaz. Sallie McLean with 
her Cape Cod pen pictures and Ara- 
bella Wilson's "Sextant." Mari- 
etta Holley and her Samantha; 
Sherwood Bonner's ill-bred but ex- 
cruciatingly witty hit on "The Radi- 
I Club" of Boston. 
Mrs. Ellen IT. Rollins with "Her 
New England Bygones," was emin- 

ently gifted in humorous descrip- 
tions interwoven with simple pathos 
as the truest humor often is. 

"Mrs. Meeker" ! When I read of 
Roman matrons I always think of 
Mrs. Meeker. Her features were 
marked and her eyes of deepest 
blue. She wore her hair combed 
closely down over her ears, so that 
her forehead seemed to run up in a 
point high upon her head. Its color 
was of reddish-brown, and, I am 
sorry to say, so far as it was seen, 
it was not her own. It was called 
a scratch, and Betsey said Mrs. 
Meeker "would look enough sight 
better if she would leave it off." 

"Whether any hair at all grew 
upon Mrs. Meeker's head was a 
great problem with the village chil- 
dren, and nothing could better il- 
lustrate the dignity of this woman 
than the fact that for more than 
thirty years the whole neighbor- 
hood tried in vain to find out." 
Some of Mrs. Spofford's work 
shines with a silver thread of hu- 
mor worked intimately into the 
whole warp and woof. 

Anna Eichberg, daughter of the 
noted violinist of Boston, who is 
now Mrs. John Lane, wife of the 
publisher, is known on both conti- 
nents as a woman richly blest with 
both wit and humor. Read her 
"Champagne Standard" if you 
doubt this. 

Boston has had an uncommon 
number of witty women. 

Mrs. Helen Bell, Rufus Choate's 
brilliant daughter, remarkable for 
her music and her wit made that 
remark quoted without credit by 
Emerson, "To a woman, the con- 
sciousness of being well dressed 
gives a sense of tranquility which 
religion fails to bestow." 

She told a friend how she was 
presented with a pig and did not 



really know what to do with it. 
But she said, ''Afterward we found 
it most convenient to put things in." 

By the way, Dr. Holmes wrote 
me that the phrase so often attrib- 
uted to him describing a ladies' 
luncheon : "Giggle, Gabble, Gobble'* 
was not his at all but belonged to a 
•clever Boston woman. 

Julia Ward Howe is undeniably 
witty. Her concurrence with a di- 
lapidated bachelor, who retained 
little but his conceit, was excellent. 
He said : "It is time now for me to 
settle down as a married man, but 
I want so much ; I want youth, 
health, wealth, of course, beauty, 

"Yes," she interrupted sympa- 
thetically, "you poor man, you do 
want them all." 

When Sumner was a young man, 
he aired his disbelief at length, in a 
magazine article. She said, "Charles 
evidently thinks he has invented 
Atheism." And when in later years 
he declined a dinner invitation ex- 
cusing himself by saying, "I have 
lost interest in the individual," she 
exclaimed : 

"Why, Charles, God hasn't got 
as far as that yet!" 

After dining with a Boston fam- 
ily, noted for their chilling manners 
and lofty exclusiveness, she hurried 
to the house of a jolly informal friend 
and seating herself before the glow- 
: ing fire, sought to regain a natural 

warmth, explaining, "I have spent 
three hours with the Mer de Glace, 
the Tete Noir and the Jungfrau, 
and am nearly frozen." 

It was Mrs. Oliver Wendell 
Holmes, Jr., who said that the 
Cunard steamer, Oregon, commit- 
ted suicide to avoid being put on 
that company's Boston line. 

There is much humor among the 
women journalists of Boston, yet 
I'll wager that not one of them 
ever tried to be funny, like all news- 
paper men, about baked beans and 
brown bread. 

In puns, parodies and repartee, 
the New England woman more 
than keeps up with her brothers. 
Louisa Alcott propounded this aw- 
ful query : "If steamers are named 
the Asia, the Russia and the Scotia, 
why not call one the Nausea?" 

Susan B. Anthony was witty to 
the last, as quick at reply as when 
years ago Horace Greeley said to 
her, "The ballot and the bullet go 
together. You women say you 
want to vote. And are you ready to 
fight too?" 

"Yes, Mr. Greeley, we are ready 
to fight ; at the point of the goose 
quill, the way you always have!" 

I would dearly like to add the 
numerous witty women of New 
York, and the West : also to make a 
few feeble remarks about the so- 
called wit of some great men. May 
I do this later ?" 

Star Tears 

By George W. Oldham 

When softly mother earth is dreaming — sleeping, 

I question whence the fire-flies come, 
The moon says : "Tears they are from stars that 

Have lost the path which leads them home." 


The Loving Cup 

By Josephine Curtis Woodbury 

Stand we all with brimming glasses, 
Ere the inspired moment passes, 
Drinking, thinking in Life's banquet-hall 
How we may exalt the Giver, 
How from want the guests deliver- 
So our cup shall cheer the hearts of all. 

As we pour out this libation, 

Pledge we faith in all creation 
Toiling, moiling, — of no guerdon sure ; 

Though their confidence be shaken. 

In them we can hope awaken; 
Drink the toast ! They can and will endure. 

Here's to faith in slothful sinners ! 

Who knows but they'll yet be winners, 
Waking, — breaking bonds of craven ease ; 

Not by us be they forsaken, 

Though in grievous faults o'ertaken ; 
Pass the cup ; Love's cup that has no lees. 

This old world needs faith and labor, 
Faith that counts all mankind neighbor, 

Working, — shirking not the hardest test ; 
"Each man is to each a brother," 
By this creed and by no other 

Do we work out Life's supreme behest. 

Lo, there rise from mist of fable, 
Gods to grace our banquet-table, 

Standing, — handing down this cup divine! 
May its mystic, golden nectar 
Of the weak make us protector, 

Make us think, "There is no mine and thine." 

Some New England Superstitions 

By Clifton Johnson 

( With Illustrations by the Author) 

SIGNS and sayings are not so entirely outgrown; yet the charm of 

rife as they once were in the such early impressions is never 

New England country; but wholly lost, and nothing takes one 

they are still extant to a consider- hack more surely to a happy coun- 


able degree among the old people 
and perhaps still more so among 
the children. This sort of thing al- 
ways has appealed to the child im- 
agination, and very likely always 
will. The touch of mystery is irre- 
sistible. Youthful poetry is apt to 
turn to prose later, and the mystery 
of the old signs and sayings may be 


try childhood than to come across 
some of these half forg-otten super- 

My most prolific source for this 
kind of lore has been an elder- 
ly farmer familiarly known as 
"Gramp" in his home village. The 
nickname is merely a contraction of 
"Grandpa," and recognizes the per- 


N E \Y E N Li L A N D M A G A Z 1 N E 

son to whom it is applied as a pa- 
triarch in the community ami as the 
ancestor of a numerous progeny. I 
first met him at the eider mill. He 
had a little pitcher and a glass and 
was enjoying a draught of the sweet 
app'.e juice fresh from the press. 
Of course he offered some to me, 
and good fellowship was soon well 

After a little chat Gramp men- 
tioned that the spring which sup- 
plied his barn had gone dry. "We 
g I plenty of water in the house," 
he continued, '"so that ain't got 
nothin' to do with my bein' here to 
get a drink of eider; but carryin' 
water to the critter don't agree 
with me. and I'm goin' to try to 
locate another spring that won't fail 
in a dry spell." 

This he proposed to do with a 
witcli-hazel crotch, which he had 
already secured, and I accompanied 
him to see the process. We went 
together to a hillside pasture, and 
Gramp wound the end of one branch 
of the witch-hazel crotch around 
his right hand, and the other end 
about his left hand, and grasped 
these ends very firmly. The crotch 
stood up vertically in the air. 

"Now I'm goin' to walk around 
here in such places as seem at all 
likely," said Gramp; "and when I 
come over water the crotch'll tip 
away from me downward. The 
harrier it pulls down, the more 
water. There ain't every one can 
find water this way. They ain't got 
the electricity or something in 'em. 
With me. it's as easy as falling off 
a log. f ean'i stop that crotch 
goin' down when it's over water if 
I try, ami sometimes it pulls down 
so hard the bark will be twisted 
off in mv hands." 

Gramp wandered here and then 
through the pasture hollows, anc 
sometimes the crotch remained up 
right, and sometimes it tippec 
downward. But at length a spo 
was found when the pull was sc 
satisfactorily felt that my compan 
ion drove a stake there to remembei 
the exact place. 

I found him digging a few dayj 
later ; but after excavating a greai 
dry hole he abandoned the job. Ir 
explanation of the failure of the 
mystic crotch he pointed to some 
yellow stains in the dirt and saie 
there was iron ore in the soil 
"That's what raised the mischiei 
with me," he declared; "for iror 
ore'll attract witch-hazel as power- 
ful as water will." 

His belief in the hazel crotch was 
as strong as ever, and I discovered 
that he was a veritable mine of an- 
cient superstitions. Of course he 
did not pin his faith to all of them: 
yet there was a surprising number 
in which he had implicit confidence, 
Some of the more characteristic and 
entertaining of these I give below, 
They are reported in his language 
just as he told thenf to me at vari- 
ous times when I chanced to meet 
him about his home, in the fields, 
or by the river where he was fond 
of fishing. 

"Crow on the fence, 
Rain will go hence. 
Crow on the ground, 
Rain will come down." 

"Storms clear off at nine o'clock 
in the morning, at noon, at three 
o'clock in the afternoon, at sunset, 
at midnight or at sunrise." 

Gramp said he knew this was so 
because he had often observed, and 


the storms did just that way; but I piazza. The weather did not suit 
thought it must be a very ingenious Gramp's wife and she said corn- 

storm that could clear off at a time 
sufficiently removed from the times 
named not to be assigned to one of 
them by the weather-wise. 

One Monday morning I took ref- 
uge from a shower on Gramp's 

plainingly, "It's raining and it's 
washing day." 

"Well, we'll have to do as they 
do in Spain," remarked Gramp. 

"What do they do there?" I 


io 4 


"Why, they let it rain." 
Gramp added that he know we 
were going to have a dull day; for 

ho had heard it raining in the night 
about one o'clock ; "and," said he, 
'"1 couldn't help thinkin' o' that old 

'Between twelve and two 

You can toll what the day will do.' 

'"It may cloud up or clear off later 

in the night ; but the day will be 

what it was between twelve and 


"If our dog comes into the house 
and puts his head under the mat 
I'm certain sure there's goin' to be 
a eold snap, and it comes every 

"When the wind dies down at 
sunset it will blow again the next 

"A thunderstorm ain't good for 
- that are under a hen hatching. 
'I'he chickens are apt to be crazy. 

"March winds and May sun 
Make dun cloth white, and fair 
maids dun. 

"I keep my young cattle in the 
pasture during the summer; but I 
bring 'em in when the weather is 
bad ; and they know a great sight 
better than f do what the weather 
is goin' to be. They'll gather at 
the bar^ a good many hours before 
a storm comes — often when the sky 
ain't begun to show a sign of it. 

"Dream of picking fruit out of 

And you'll quarrel without rea- 

"When you're peelhY onions, hold 
a pin between your teeth and it'll 
prevenl your cryin'. 

"If von - ant to eel rid of the 

rats in your house, ketch one and 
tar and feather it and then turn it 
loose. All the rats will leave in a 

"When I was a boy I'd some- 
times play so hard I'd have a pain 
in my side. To cure it I'd lift up a 
stone, spit under it and put the 
stone back in its place. I wouldn't 
have any more trouble from the 
pain after that. 

"If you begin to tell something; 
and forget what you were saying,, 
that is a sign it was true. 

"Mend your clothes upon your 

Poverty you'll never lack. 

"When the world was new the 
devil spent a lot of time sowing it 
with stones. He carried the stones 
in his apron, and where you see 
spots that they are very thick, you 
can know his apron strings broke 

"To stop the hic-coughs see how 
near you can hold your little fin- 
gers together without their touch- 

"If you don't want to have the 
toothache, cut a little bit from each 
toe-nail and finger-nail. Then wrap 
the cuttings in a white paper or 
birch bark and put 'em in a hole 
bored in a pine tree. Close the hole 
by plugging and you won't have 
any trouble with aching teeth as 
long as you live, though this won't 
prevent your losing your teeth by 

"You can cure your rheumatism 
by putting mustard in your shoes. 

"If you have the stomach-ache 
Eat a piece of burnt cake. 

"You can stop the nosebleed by 


putting a piece of paper under your 
tongue. You can stop it, too, by 
placing a key on the back of your 

"It's a good plan to fill a bottle 
with water at a spring on Easter 
morning before sunrise. There 
ain't any medicine advertised in the 

papers that can equal such water, 
because it'll cure more things and 
is sure every time. Drink a little of 
it if anything is the matter inside 
of you ; and if you have a sore rub 
it on outside. You'll be surprised 
to see what it does for you, no mat- 
ter what disease vou s:ot. 




•'When you're out drivin' in the 
winter and your feet get cold, take 
off your hat. That'll warm 'em 
even if they're like ice. I tried that 
one blusterin', tree/in' day last win- 
ter when 1 was really sufferin', my 
feci was so cold, and I hadn't had 
my hat off more'n three minutes be- 
fore they was as warm as if I'd 
been toastin' 'em by the kitchen 
stove. Yon sec the cold air drives 
the blood from the head, and your 
feet can't help but get warm. 

"Don't cut a twig to string your 
fish on until you ketch your first 
fish. If vou do you won't ketch 

"When you see the first robin in 
the spring notice whether it flies up 
or down. If it flies up you will go 
U p — that is, you will have good luck 
during the year; but if it flies down 
you will have bad luck. 

"Never carry a cat across running 
water if you want to have good 
luck. It will ruin your life. You 
might just as well take a dose of 
deadly poison and be done with it. 

"If a spider drops down before 
vou it is a sign you are goin' to 
have company. 

"Spit for luck on your friend's 
new shoes and he will never wear 
them to a place where he will be 

"What a baby weighs at birth is 
just one twentieth of what it will 
weigh as a grown person. 

"Oid you ever notice the differ- 
ence between the way a man folds 
his hands and the way a woman 
folds hers? Willi a man the right 
thumb is always on lop, and with a 
woman the left thumb. 

"A baby should be carried up- 
stairs before it is carried down even 
if yon have to take it into the gar- 

ret. To carry it downstairs first 
would make it low-minded, and it 
would never rise in the world. 

"If you find a cluster of bubbles 
on your coffee that means money is 

"You may know that a man has 
money to lend if he wears his hat 
pushed back on his head. 

"If you shiver on a warm day you 
may know it is because someone is 
walking over the spot that is to be 
your grave. 

"Something bad is bound to hap- 
pen to you if you go to a funeral 
ridin' after a white horse. 

"I ain't got any objections to thir- 
teen at the table. It was always 
told in our family that thirteen at 
table wa'n't unlucky except when 
there was only victuals enough for 

"To upset your teacup is a sign 
that a stranger is coming to call. 
"Sneeze before seven 
Have company before eleven. 
"If you see the new moon through 
the branches of a tree, you will see 

"Sleep in a bean field and it will 
make you crazy. Same way with 
sleepin' in the full moonlight. 

"What you are doing when you 
hear the first whip-poor-will, that 
you will do most of the year. 

"Kill a mosquito and two will 
come to the funeral, and you'll be 
worse pestered than you was be- 

"An owl will turn his head to 
watch you wherever you move as 
long as you are near it. If you 
walk around and around him he will 
continue to turn his head until he 
wrings his own neck. 

"On the first day of August the 
crickets begin to sing. They are 


sure to begin on that day and not 

"When you think a bee or a wasp 
is gettin' too friendly just hold your 
breath. Then they can't sting you 
if they try. I suppose it closes the 
pores of the skin so they can't get 
their stingers in. Why, I've held 

my breath and seen a bee try his 
worst to stick in his sting and final- 
ly go off disgusted." 

Besides the various sayings which 
I have reported Gramp told me one 
genuine spook story which is quite 
typical of the tales often related at 
the old-time firesides. He said, 



"There was a feller in the town 
where my mother come from whose 
name was Tom Cook. Tom was a 
pretty rough sort of a customer and 
it was commonly believed that he 
was in league with the devil, and 
he was, too. Well, by and by, the 
devil concluded he'd like Tom's 
company down below. So lie called 
on Tom early one morning and 
found Tom had just got up and was 

'Tom,' said he, 'you've lived in 
this town long enough. I want you 
to come down to the pit and stay 
with me. So make haste. I've got 
fo keep the fires goin' down there, 
you hi''' 

"Then the devil took Tom by the 
arm to hurry him and make sure of 
him. Tom didn't like the looks of 
the devil and the devil's fingers 
were awful hot. Tom tried to pull 
along, and at the same time he said, 
'Wait, wait, can't you, until I get 
my galluses on?' 

"The devil looked him all over 
and then he grinned and he said. 
'Yes, I'll wait till you get your gal- 
luses on.' 

"He no sooner said that than 
Tom threw the galluses into the 
fire. The devil saw he'd lost his 
man and went ofT in great anger, 
and Tom never wore galluses 

1 68 

The City -Country Club Plan 

By- Walter S. Newell, ph.d. 


ONE can hardly fail to take an 
optimistic view of our Ameri- 
can life when he notes the in- 
creasing number of persons who mi- 
grate, as regularly as do our birds, 
to the country or to the seashore to 
get back to nature for a short time 
during the summer. 

It is a significant thing and we 
may believe a hopeful sign that the 
professional man in his city study 
or office feels the need of a broader 
view from some hilltop ; that the 
counting house cannot hold a man 
from the scenes of his childhood's 
home, and that the soot of the city 
must be removed by contact with 
the freshness and purity of nature. 

To the avowed student of sociolo- 
gical and psychological problems we 
leave the task of accounting for this 
trait of urban nature which demands 
change of environment periodically, 
and we shall devote ourselves to the 
more practical considerations aris- 
ing from the ever-growing number 
-of visitors to rural communities. Be 

we permanent residents of a rural 
community or summer visitors, we 
cannot escape the issue of being our 
brothers' keepers and of being in a 
degree responsible for the social con- 
ditions which, though temporary, 
are growing in importance year by 

Does the inhabitant of a rural 
community have any claim upon the 
city visitors beyond that of patron- 
age for store, for market garden or 
for the livery and boarding business? 
Is the selfishness of sordidness on 
the one side, to balance the selfish- 
ness of ease on the other and the 
account to be considered closed? 
Are these two phases of our society, 
city and country, to be regarded as 
exclusive? When the rural commun- 
ity has felt the first impulse of a new 
life which comes to it from the city 
visitor, shall it expect the visitor to 
assimilate and reverence or even re- 
spect the traditions which have 
come to be a part of the very fiber 
of the village ? Shall a rural com- 

6 9 


munity. at the risk of casting pearls 
before swine, offer the traditions 
and associations of generations as 
a marketable commodity to the 
highest bidder? These are matters 
for consideration. 

Harmonious interaction and ap- 
preciation form a conspicuous con- 
trast to the exclusiveness which 
even a casual observer may note in 
many of the places where city and 
country meet. When viewing the 
irresponsibility which too frequent- 
ly characterizes the sojourn of the 
city guests in a rural community, 
the verdict of the countryside is not 
unlikely to be pronounced in the 
aphorism that "summer rustication 
is likely to drift into summer rusti- 
ness, in which selfish laziness is mis- 
taken for healthful rest." 

As a preventive of results here 
cited, society has organized the or- 
dinary country clubs which, after 
the order of horse-shows, and hunt 
clubs, are the creations and play- 
thing- of fashion. These aim mere- 
ly to provide pleasure in the line 
of games, athletic sports, etc., for 
city people who fancy they are, 
through these media, drawing from 
the country the best it has for them. 
Apropos of conditions such as these, 
which the writer believes represent 

the general tendency in any commun- 
ity where these two classes meet, 
the following plan is described as 
having done a little, but that defi- 
nitely, toward making both city and 
country recognize a mutual relation. 
Under conditions not the most fa- 
vorable for the successful issue of a 
new plan, an experiment has been 
tried in the little hilltown of Middle- 
field, Massachusetts, and the new 
City-Country club plan has drawn 
to itself considerable attention and 
favorable comment during the four 
years that it has been in operation. 
A town situated four miles from the 
railroad, upon a high ridge of hills 
1800 feet above the sea level, Mid- 
dlefield is naturally endowed with 
magnificent outlooks and large air 
which make many of the towns of 
the Berkshires attractive to city peo- 
ple. At the foot of the town hill, 
on the side toward the station is 
the factory village which made the 
town prosperous by its woolen man- 
ufactures during wartimes, but 
which is now only a single line of 
dilapidated tenement houses and 
falling-down factories. At the other 
three points of the compass as one 
walks out of the village toward the 
north, south or east, are the pros- 
perous homes of the stock and dairy 



farmers. Add to these attractions, 
which Middlefield has in common 
with other New England towns, its 
share of decadent and abandoned 
farms and we see about the condi- 
tions that existed before it became 
a summer place. 

Among those who first became in- 
terested in this little town as a rest- 
ful place for a summer colony, the 
serious question presented itself: 
"How can we make the colony the 
most beneficial to the town, to our- 
selves and to our aims for a profit- 
able vacation for all concerned?" The 
more public spirited among the local 
people were invited to confer with 
the originators of the plan, and a 
City-Country club was the result. In 
the very beginning of its history, 
the ideal held up was to bring the 
city visitors and local country peo- 
ple into close and friendly touch 
with each other, "on a common foot- 
ing, and to work for the permanent 
benefit of the community." 

In the membership and board of 
officers of the Club, the local resi- 
dents and city people are represent- 
ed as equally as possible. For 
example, either the president or 
vice president must be a per- 
manent resident of Middlefield, 
and in committee work, the col- 
lege student spending his vacation 

in town is associated with the young 
man whose opportunities and duties 
have been circumscribed by the 
farm or the village life. 

Let me quote briefly from a paper 
read by the first president of the 
Club : "The Club was organized 
with a four-fold aim. It seeks first 
to develop the social life of the vil- 
lage ; second, to encourage such lit- 
erary and entertaining features as 
shall be helpful and attractive; third, 
to direct and provide athletic diver- 
sion ; fourth, to lead in village im- 
provement and to make the premises 
enhance and not mar the scenic ef- 
fect of the hills which nature made 
attractive. But it is by no means 
bound down to this program. It is 
capable of expansion so as to en- 
courage any worthy work for the 
interests of Middlefield. It is an ef- 
fort to gather up and organize and 
direct the forces that stand for pro- 
gress and aggressive good. It is an 
effort, too, to utilize the forms of 
talent and help, which the summer 
visitors bring, and to draw them 
into complete sympathy and co-op- 
eration with the permanent resi- 

In organizing the City-Country 
Club along the lines here indicated 
the following committees were 
deemed necessary. 



A Village Improvement Commit- 
tee directs all work of the club in 
the beautifying- or improvement of 
the village and the committee now 
extends its improvements beyond 
the village limits to the more re- 
remote parts of the town. 

An Entertainment Committee 
provides for the public a series of 
•entertainments by local talent, visi- 
tors or lecturers and through these 
•efforts the treasury is replenished. 

An Athletic Committee provides 
grounds for tennis and golf and or- 
ganizes a baseball team each season. 

A Social Committee has charge of 
the fortnightly meetings of the club 
furnishing musical and literary pro- 
grams and an unpretentious spread. 

A Natural History Committee is 
making a collection of the local 
flora, insects and minerals, and 
there is installed in the town library 
a cabinet which does credit to the 
three years of efforts. 

Tin- Historical Committee has a 
peculiar work in hand, in its study 
for publication, of the local town 
history. The old roads and farm 
boundaries are being studied, the 
foundations of the old homes are 
being located and the history of in- 
dividual houses, giving as far as 
available the names of owners and 
-'•nts, is being recorded and pre- 

served. The personnel of this com- 
mittee does not change from yeai 
to year. 

At the risk of repetition, let ml 
quote from an article by Mr. Ed- 
ward A. Wright: "The following 
are among the things accomplished 
by the club during its first two years 
Golf links established ; a lawn ten 
nis court opened by the village road- 
side ; a little beauty-spot made of c 
former mud-hole in the village cen- 
tre; a piano placed in the town hal 
for free public use ; a cabinet placed 
in the town library and a natura 
history collection well started ; ar 
old home week celebration arrangec 
and carried out, one of the first ob- 
servances of the kind held in Mas- 
sachusetts; the connection of the 
town with the outside world by a 
telephone line four ; or five miles 
long (a much needed enterprise 
pushed by the club but largely paid 
for by the town and voluntary sub- 
scriptions) ; the purchase of scenery 
for the town hall stage; the presen- 
tation each season of two or more 
dramatic and musical entertain- 
ments of unusual brightness and 
merit, besides giving a number of 
exceedingly enjoyable, social, liter- 
ary and musical affairs informal in 
character and genial and hospitable 
in spirit. The club has accomplished 



what it has, without ever running in 
debt and has closed each season 
with a snug little sum in the treas- 
ury. The annual dues are only $1.00 
and this covers the first year's mem- 
bership. Members are never as- 
sessed ; voluntary contributions are 
sometimes accepted for special pur- 
poses but never urged upon mem- 
bers or others." 

The membership of the club dur- 
ing the past season has been be- 
tween 70 and 80 active members. 
Nothing is so characteristic of the 
influence which the club exerts in 
the community as the way in which 
the new-comers become inoculated 
with the enthusiasm of the club 
members, and with the desire to co- 
operate in order to benefit the town 
life and to secure the most perfect 
vacation for themselves. So demo- 
cratic and unselfish are the aims of 
the club that a life which is purely 
selfish and self-sufficient finds noth- 
ing congenial in the atmosphere. Co- 
operation and a considerable regard 
and study of those who spend ten 
months of the year among condi- 
tions different from our own, main- 
tain this organization just as a mu- 
tual good. Nearly every family of 
the town is represented in the mem- 
bership and the association of the 
young people of the country with 

the summer people has been stimu- 
lating and beneficial. 

The practical value of the City- 
Country Club plan in dollars and 
cents becomes apparent to the ob- 
server. There is a good class of 
people coming into the neighbor- 
hood and better prices are being 
paid for farm products. The demand 
continues and is growing from a de- 
sirable class of city residents seek- 
ing summer homes of comfort rath- 
er than of fashion in a community 
where the social as well as the nat- 
ural conditions are inviting. 

The roster of the summer visitors 
who have identified themselves with- 
the City-Country Club explains in 
part the value of the club to the 
village life. Among the members of 
this year's colony are two college 
professors, three high school princi- 
pals, four clergymen, several busi- 
ness men who spend Saturday and 
Sunday with their families in sum- 
mer homes, one doctor, several col- 
lege students and musicians. The 
local minister occasionally invites 
visiting clergymen to occupy the 
pulpit, and the village choir receives- 
reinforcements from the summer 
visitors. The charitable and social 
interests of the church are appreci- 
ated and helped by the city visitors. 

While notoriety has not been the 



n m, ^ 


character and genial and hospitable 
aim of this City-Country Club, its 
work has been of a character so di- 
verse in the things accomplished as to 
win recognition from organizations 
which represent separate phases of 
its work. Reference has already been 
made to the Old Home Week cele- 
bration. During the past year the 
club has been invited to send dele- 
gates to the meeting of the Massa- 
chusetts League for Village Better- 
ment and upon hearing of the work 
of the City-Country Club, the Mid- 
dlefield organization was given a 
membership in the League. But 
this is only one of the lines in which 
the City-Country Club crosses the 
path of other organizations which 
arc si riving to meet specific needs 
of the rural or civic life These in- 

stances of federation are cite 
merely to indicate how comple 
may become the interest and ho^ 
rich the possibilities of a clu 
which unites all classes in the ir 
terest of the common weal. 

While the experiment of organic 
ing the city and country element 
into harmonious action, has bee 
given a concrete application to th 
local conditions of a particular towi 
these modifying conditions are nc 
such as would render the Cit} 
Country Club plan inapplicable t 
other rural communities whose p< 
culiarities may enhance the benefil 
derived. A good deal depends upo 
the ideals of the individuals who ar 
attempting to organize the two el< 
ments which are so likely to becom 
sordid and selfish. 



It has not been the purpose of may serve as an outline which an- 

this article to dwell upon the details 
of a club's activities or to weary the 
reader with a recital of trifling con- 
cerns with a local setting, but mere- 
ly to indicate the general lines which 

other community may, in the future 
with some modification, extension 
or expansion follow to the same 
end in its own social and economic 


The Passing of Summer 

By Harley R. Wiley 

She smiled to the hearts that enshrined her 
Then the gold of her banner unfurled 

And trailing her glories behind her 
Passed over the rim of the world. 


Legends of Old Newgate 

By George H. Hubbard 

(Continued from the May issue) 


Barnes Brothers, Burglars 

IN the year 1803 there came to 
Newgate three men whose 
names are familiar to all 
versed in the lore of the old prison. 
They were the notorious Barnes 
brothers, John, William and Henry, 
from North Haven who had been 
sentenced for burglary. Fine look- 
ing men they were, and, to the 
eyes of the unsophisticated, bore no 
marks of criminal character. In 
appearance they contrasted sharply 
with the other inmates of the insti- 
tution. The majority of the con- 
victs were somewhat heavy, dull or 
brutal looking. But these men, on 
the other hand, were slight of form, 
and delicate of feature, with hand- 
some faces and keen, dark eyes. 

Those experienced in tokens of 
criminality might observe an uneasy 
restlessness of the hands, a sly cat- 
like tread, a want of directness in 
the look, a cruel gleam of the eyes. 
Bui the ordinary visitor to the pris- 
on saw only ;i trio of refined and in- 
telligent looking gentlemen who 
seemed wholly out of place in the 
company of the roughs by whom 
they were surrounded. To such per- 
sons it was always a matter of no 
little wonder that these men were 
the mosl heavily ironed and most 
carefully guarded of all the prison- 

7 6 

ers. Usually they wore two sets of 
extra "strong manacles, and each one- 
had an iron collar to which was at- 
tached a chain fastened to the ceil- 
ing- of the shop in which he worked, 
or was secured by a chain from his 
ankle irons to his anvil block. Many 
a tender-hearted woman or philan- 
thropic old man inspecting the pris- 
on protested against such wanton 
cruelty ; but the authorities quickly 
assured them that among all the in- 
mates of the jail there were no oth- 
ers so dangerous or so slippery as 
these same quiet looking gentle- 
men. More than once they had 
instigated and directed a rebellion 
throughout the entire prison, and on 
one occasion had nearly succeeded 
in overcoming the full force of 
guards and setting the whole com- 
pany of convicts free. Their intel- 
ligence and skill gave them greater 
power for evil than was possessed 
by the duller minds about them. 

The home of the brothers was in 
North Haven where the family had 
lived for three generations enjoying 
the respect and confidence of the 
entire community. Mechanical skill 
was a marked trait of the family. 
The grandfather had been one of 
the first manufacturers of the brass 
clocks which made Connecticut 
famous ; and the father had been a 
locksmith of unusual ingenuity. His 
locks were in demand throughout 
all that region of country, being the 

L E G E N I ) S ( ) F ( ) L D N E W ( i A T E 


forerunners of the Yale lock so pop- 
ular at the present day. The three 
brothers inherited all the skill and 
cunning of their ancestors, but while 
the father's skill was displayed in 
making locks, theirs revealed itself 
in picking and breaking them. 

Their career of crime was the di- 
rect fruit of a certain kind of novel 
reading. Brought up with great 
strictness and limited in their legiti- 
mate reading to a few uninteresting 
books, they chanced to fall upon 
some of the worst literature of the 
day, thrilling stories of crime and 
wild adventure which their eager 
minds quickly devoured. Working 
as they did in the shop of their fath- 
er, they found themselves equipped 
with the very best instruments for 
criminal achievement, and they were 
tempted to rival the reckless deeds 
of which they read. At first they 
tried their powers chiefly as a mat- 
ter of joke. They would astonish 
their acquaintances by coming in on 
them at night just after the doors 
were locked, or they would make 
use of their skill to play some prank 
upon an offending neighbor. 

In time, however, their esca- 
pades took a more serious turn, and 
by harsh treatment they were hard- 
ened till at length they became full 
fledged criminals. Many were the 
burglaries attributed to the brothers, 
but they were so adroit that it was 
difficult to fasten a specific crime 
upon them. In the making of skele- 
ton keys they were adepts, and it 
was their boast that they could open 
any store or dwelling house in New 
Haven. Certain it is that the stores 
of that city were frequently raided 
at night by persons who made no 
break and left no trace in the morn- 
ing except the evident loss of goods 

of one kind or another. In one in- 
stance several thousand dollars 
worth of jewelry were taken from a 
safe, yet in the morning both store 
and safe were locked as when left 
the night before. It was a peculiar- 
ity of the brothers' work that they 
never seemed to have been in a hur- 
ry, but took time to replace every- 
thing as they found it. 

Naturally suspicion fell upon em- 
ployees at first, because of the evi- 
dent use of keys. But after a time 
the common exclamation on the dis- 
covery of such a piece of work was, 
"The Barnes boys have been here !" 
Yet so artful were they in hiding 
and disposing of their booty that for 
a long time they baffled conviction. 
And woe to the man who had them 
arrested and failed to convict them. 
He was sure to be visited with ven- 
geance worse than the crime. 

In the life of the period the Barnes 
brothers held about the same posi- 
tion and inspired about the same- 
terror that in later times in the west- 
ern country attached to the names 
of the James gang or the Younger 
brothers. True, they were never 
guilty of murder and never commit- 
ted robbery in broad daylight in a 
spirit of bravado. In fact theirs 
were not so much crimes of darrn°r 
as of skill. But so numerous and 
so ingenious were their midnight 
raids upon banks, stores and private 
residences that the entire state lived 
in nightly fear of their attacks. Yet 
women who trembled at the mere 
mention of their names, when they 
saw them in prison wondered at 
their fear and remonstrated with 
the officers against the harshness 
of the treatment accorded to them. 
It was difficult to believe that 
such quiet appearing men could be 



the heroes of such terrific stories. 

After many futile efforts to entrap 

them. the>- were finally caught by a 

mere accident. The cashier of a 
hank in one of the cities not far 
from New Haven chanced to be re- 
turning to his home one night an 
hour or more after the clocks had 
struck twelve, and passed the bank 
■on his way. Almost at the door he 
met a man walking leisurely along 
and it flashed upon his mind that 
this stranger answered well to the 
descriptions which he had heard of 
the famous burglars. Possibly he 
was a patrol. 

Continuing his course unaltered 
till well out of sight, the cashier 
then took the shortest route to the 
police station. He told his story in a 
few moments and asked for a num- 
ber of officers to accompany him to 
the bank in hot haste for an investi- 
gation. Quickly the officers armed 
themselves and sallied out. Taking 
different routes they approached the 
bank in two squads from opposite 
directions. The cashier and chief 
coming suddenly around a corner 
found the man still walking close to 
the door. Before he could speak or 
give any warning a pistol was 
pointed at him and he was ordered 
to surrender and keep silence. See- 
ing that resistance was useless, he 
obeyed. A moment later the re- 
mainder of the force arrived and 
quietly waiting till the two brothers 
completed their work and came out 
of the floor they arrested them with 
the evidences of their guilt upon 
them. They were soon lodged in 
.gate for a long term. 

When first brought to the prison, 
the officers observing their slight 
Stature and quiet manners imagined 
that they should have little difficulty 

with them. They were even dis- 
posed to allow them the largest free- 
dom that the prison rules would per- 

Indeed, it was thought impos- 
sible that they could tamper suc- 
cessfully with the heavy locks and 
bars of the prison. Their extraor- 
dinary skill in all forms of mechani- 
cal work made them a valuable ad- 
dition to the force at the smithery. 
The work done by them was of a 
superior quality for they took pride 
in displaying their powers, and their 
ingenuity was often called into re- 
quisition for the improvement of the 
machinery then in use. 

While they were thus rendering 
good service to the state they were 
also making good use of their op- 
portunities for their own advantage. 
From time to time they secreted 
various bits of metal about their 
persons when they went down to 
the caverns at night, and from these 
they soon had a complete set of 
tools made to aid them in escaping. 
There were files and saws and skele- 
ton keys and numerous other de- 
vices such as burglars know how to 
use. And it was their custom im- 
mediately after the departure of the 
guards to unlock their own fetters 
and those of as many of their fellow 
prisoners as they thought best, so 
leaving them free to work at any 
proposed scheme of escape! The 
fetters were carefully replaced be- 
fore the men were called up in the 
morning and the work below ground 
was hidden away from sight. The 
conspirators were betrayed however 
by some unknown person, the tools 
were confiscated, and after this the 
brothers were ironed with special 
care and every night their feet were 
made fast in the stocks. But it was 



not very long before they succeeded 
in once more unlocking their fetters 
and setting nearly all their fellow 
prisoners free for an attempt at es- 
cape that nearly proved successful. 

So quick were the brothers in all 
their motions and so dextrous in un- 
locking fetters and similar feats that 
some of the guards and nearly all 
the convicts believed them to be in 
league with the devil. They were 
known as the wizards of the prison, 
and sometimes gave exhibitions of 
their skill for the amusement of 

Of the three William was the most 
dextrous. On one occasion he was 
sent to Southwick under care of a 
guard to open a safe, the lock of 
which had been injured and refused 
to act. The refractory mechanism 
offered little difficulty to the expert 
cracksman and he was soon on his 
way home again with a good fee for 
his services in his pocket. The 
guard accompanying him, though 
much larger and stronger than he, 
was a man of slow motions and 
slower thought. When they were 
at a lonely spot on the road Barnes 
called his attention to something in 
the opposite direction and in a mo- 
ment slipping off his shackles 
struck the guard with them and 
felled him to the earth. Before he 
could recover his wits the manacles 
were on his own wrists and he was 
prisoner. Barnes then gagged him 
and dragging him several rods from 
the road concealed him in the under- 
brush. He then fled to New Lon- 
don where he was recaptured. 

Even the convicts seem to have 
been deceived at first by the appear- 
ance of these men. "The gentlemen 
convicts" they called them because 
of their refined manners and their 

refusal to enter into the low conver- 
sation and lower amusements of the 
underground life. Total abstinence 
from the drinking habits so common 
among the inmates of the prison was 
also a distinguishing mark of the 
trio, and was looked upon as a sign 
of weakness. Noting these things 
and also perceiving their slight sta- 
ture, some of the stronger ones 
thought it would be safe to bully 
them. But they quickly learned that 
although not large in body the men 
could more than make up in skill 
and determination what they lacked 
in brute force. They soon made it 
plain that they feared nothing. One 
or two encounters with the leading 
bullies of the place served to estab- 
lish their supremacy, and even 
Aaron Goomer, the gigantic negro, 
who weighed almost as much as the 
three together and who could fell an 
ox with his fist, had a wholesome 
fear of the little wizards. Within a 
week from the day of their arrival 
they were the recognized leaders of 
the convict body, and John, the eld- 
est, was leader of the three. 

W T ith all their skill their schemes 
for escape were unavailing. More 
than once each of them succeeded in 
getting outside of the walls ; but 
they were so well known through- 
out the state that they were sure to 
be recaptured and brought back 
again before they could put them- 
selves beyond the state's jurisdic- 
tion. So they served their full 
term of seven years with some added 
months because of insubordination. 

The system of prison discipline 
employed at Newgate and the spirit 
of the institution were not calculat- 
ed to bring about the reformation of 
the convicts. The custom of loading 
them with irons and chains while at 



work, the frequent and severe flog- 
gings for failure to fulfil their tasks 
or for any breach of discipline, 
kindled in their hearts the desire for 
revenge. And in several instances 
the murder of a prison officer was 
the immediate outcome of this treat- 
ment. Scarcely less harmful was 
the practice of herding the prisoners 
together in the mines instead of put- 
ting them in separate cells at night. 
There the better and worse elements, 
the young and old criminals congre- 
gated together to brew mischief, so 
that it was a regular school of vice. 
The midnight revels, too, often 
turned the caverns into a howling 
den of wild beats making sleep im- 
possible and destroying all hope of 

It is not strange therefore that 
the seven years' sojourn of the 
Barnes brothers intensified rather 
than cured their criminal propensi- 
ties and that they went forth to con- 
tinue their career as burglars. Their 
release was almost immediately fol- 
lowed by new breaks and it was 
only three years later that they 
were committed to the old prison 
for a second and longer term. 


A Pre-Millennial Resurrection 

Escapes form a part of the record 
of every prison: and the record of 
Newgate is no exception. Being 
considered exceptionally secure, the 
gloomy dungeons in the heart of 
Talcotl mountain became the nat- 
ural place of confinement for the 
most desperate criminals or for 
those who had proven their skill in 
prison breaking. To be sure the 
number of escapes even there was 
not small; ye1 few, if any other 

prisons of the time had so good a 

The committee originally appoint- 
ted by the General Assembly to ex- 
plore the place and pronounce upon 
its availability for the purpose had 
reported that by expending less than 
fifty pounds the caverns could be 
so perfectly secured that it would 
be "next to impossible for any per- 
son to escape from them." And we 
smile when we read in connection 
with this statement the testimony 
of the prison records that during 
the first ten years of its occupation 
more than half of the persons com- 
mitted to Newgate effected their es- 
cape from its caverns. Yet most of 
us would doubtless have agreed 
with that original committee in pro- 
nouncing the mines an absolutely 
secure place of imprisonment. 

To the uninitiated the most ordi- 
nary stone walls seem to present an 
impassible barrier to freedom. And 
when there are added to these heavy 
manacles, subterranean caverns, 
numerous guards, and all the other 
restraining forces of prison life, we 
wonder how any man can ever over- 
come such obstacles and regain his 
liberty. But a company of crimi- 
nals, familiar with all the arts of de- 
ception, skilled in house breaking, 
alert for opportunities, is not easily 
discouraged. Herded together as 
they were at night, these men had 
every chance to compare notes, to 
exchange bits of information regard- 
ingthe weak points of the prison 
or negligent habits on the part of 
any of the guards, and to assist one 
another in contriving tools and lay- 
ing plans for escape. The dark re- 
cesses of the caverns also afforded 
the best of places in which to con- 
ceal any materials that might be of 



service in an emergency, or any lit- 
ter resulting from efforts to dig out. 
And although the average mental 
power of the criminal class is low., 
many of these people display re- 
markable acumen in the particular 
sphere of crime. 

At first escapes from Newgate 
were generally effected by direct 
means such as climbing out of the 
seventy foot shaft by the aid of 
confederates without, or crawling 
through the drain which opens up- 
on the mountain side. One small 
man even made his way to freedom 
by lifting a square stone from the 
floor of the "stone jug" as the base- 
ment of the warden's house was 
called and digging a tunnel under 
the wall to the outer world. Others 
would have accompanied him had 
not the one movable stone been so 
small that a full-sized man could 
not crawl through the opening thus 
made. With the improvement of 
the buildings and the increasing 
watchfulness of the keepers, how- 
ever, such methods of escape be- 
came more and more difficult; con- 
sequently the inmates were obliged 
to rely more upon their wits than 
upon skill or force to get themselves 
outside the prison walls. 

For a time the Newgate colony 
included in its number a convict 
named James Newnjan. This man 
was a famous prison breaker, and 
came to the mines with a record of 
which he boasted not a little to his 
| companions. He had unlocked or 
scaled or dug out of more prisons 
than any other man in New Eng- 
land, unless perhaps the notorious 
Stephen Burroughs should be ex- 
cepted. And after a wide experi- 
ence of prisons both in Canada and 
the United States, he declared that 

Newgate "was the hardest and most 
secure prison he ever entered." 
Still he did not hesitate to assert he 
would find a way out of it. 

The first few months after his 
committal witnessed a number of 
experiments with the locks, walls, 
etc., in the endeavor to break out by 
his usual methods. He knew by 
heart the history of every previous 
escape from the dungeons, and the 
air shaft, well, drain, and all other 
outlets that had been employed by 
others were thoroughly tested by 
him and found impassible. Every- 
where he was foiled by the strength 
of the improved fortifications or the 
vigilance of the guards who had 
been specially warned to watch 
him with extraordinary care. Once 
he attempted to imitate Dublin's 
feat of scaling the wall and nearly 
paid for his temerity with his life. 
He had succeeded somehow or other 
in gaining possession of a rope 
Which he successfully threw over 
the wall and was already near the 
top when the guard on the parapet 
caught sight of him and brought 
him to the ground with a bullet. 
Another effort to steal out while the 
gate was open for business in 
the afternoon, although carefully 
planned, was nipped in the bud by 
the sudden appearance of an officer 
who chanced to be returning from 
a business trip to one of the neigh- 
boring farms. He entered the gate 
just as Newman made a rush from 
behind one of the prison buildings, 
and catching him in his arms threw 
him to the ground after a desperate 
struggle and secured him. The flog- 
ging administered to the foiled pris- 
oner impressed him with the use- 
lessness of attempts in that line, and 
he determined to trv new tactics. 



He realized that he must escape 
by stratagem if at all. lie there- 
tore pretended complete submis- 
sion. A remarkable change took 
place in his conduct. For months 
he committed no breach of disci- 
pline, ami he even gave up his habit 
of shamming sickness by which he 
had been accustomed to escape the 
daily work assigned to him. For- 
merly he had surpassed even the 
hypocritical Parker in this art, giv- 
ing the authorities no little trouble. 
Besides the ordinary tricks of spit- 
ting blood, producing nausea, and 
varying his pulse, he was credited 
with being able to reduce his flesh 
quite perceptibly in a few days by 
sucking a copper cent in his mouth 
each night and swallowing the 
saliva. But now he desisted from 
all these practices and gave himself 
to whatever task might be assigned 
with apparent good will. With 
well feigned modesty and penitence 
he gave his keepers to understand 
that he had reformed and should 
lead a different life after his release. 
The officers had not sufficient con- 
fidence in his professions to trust 
him with errands outside the walls. 
He was not even allowed to go 
under the escort of a guard to work 
for farmers in the vicinity, as was 
the case with some of the convicts. 
But as the weeks grew into months 
and no outbreak occurred to indi- 
cate any insincerity on his part, lit- 
tle by little they relaxed their vigil- 
ance within the walls so far as he 
was concerned. 

I ban while the wily rascal was 
on the alert, determined to seize the 
first opportunity that gave good 
promise of success, but equally de- 
termined not to risk another experi- 
ence of the whipping post. Work- 

ing at different tasks he became 
familiar with the various buildings 
in the yard and was often called 
upon to go from one to another in 
the course of his work, so that no 
attention would be paid to him so 
long as he appeared to be going 
about his business. 

At length the opportunity for 
which he was waiting presented it- 
self, and he was quick to seize it. 
One of the convicts in the prison, 
a negro named Charles Mears, died; 
and his body, encased in a rough 
wooden box, was left in the build- 
ing known as the chapel awaiting 

In such cases it was the custom 
to detail two of the prisoners with 
a guard to convey the body to the 
prison cemetery, dig the grave and 
attend to the burial without the 
formality of a funeral service. Ac- 
cordingly at the dinner hour New- 
man heard orders given for two 
Irishmen, John Shea and Dave 
Kently, to be ready to perform this 
service for the deceased negro at 
two o'clock that afternoon. It was 
now almost one, and the dinner 
hour would soon be over. 

Before his dinner was finished 
Newman was taken suddenly and 
violently sick and asked the privi- 
lege of going to his cell. This was 
readily granted, as he had not been 
guilty of shamming for nearly six 
months. He hurried from the shop 
and, finding the yard empty, walked 
quickly to the chapel, his manner 
being so thoroughly business-like 
that the guard on the parapet took 
it for granted he was going there 
on an errand. 

Once within the chapel walls he 
was comparatively safe from obser- 
vation for a time. Still he dared 



not waste a moment. With a quick- 
ness and dexterity acquired by long 
experience in house and prison 
breaking, he pried off the cover of 
the rude coffin, taking good care to 
leave no marks and to keep the 
nails in their proper places in the 
top. This done it was the work of 
but a few moments to lift out the 
corpse and place it on the floor at 
the back of the room. Now the 
chapel was used not only for relig- 
ious services, but also for gatherings 
of a more jovial nature when the 
prison officials invited friends from 
the neighboring farms to spend a 
pleasant evening with, them in 
dancing and similar festivities. One 
of these junkets had been held in 
the room only a few nights before, 
and the walls had been decorated 
with flags and bunting which had 
been taken down after the affair 
was over but were not yet removed. 
These Newman threw over the 
body of the dead negro, and placed 
a bench carelessly in front of all. 
With the aid of a nail rod, purloined 
from the smithery and kept about 
his person for such emergencies, 
he then enlarged the nail holes in 
the sides of the coffin so that on re- 
placing the cover each nail would 
slip easily into its place. This done 
he took his place in the box and, 
carefully adjusting the nails to their 
holes, let the cover down over him. 
As the cover was made of two nar- 
row boards, these were fastened to- 
gether with thick cleats, and by 
holding tightly to these in case any- 
one should take it into his head to 
test the firmness of the cover, the 
occupant cOuld effectually conceal 
the fact that the box had been tam- 
pered with. 

Newman had not long rested in 

his narrow quarters when Shea and 
Kently, under convoy of Moses Tal- 
cott one of the under officers of the 
prison, came in and took up the 
coffin to carry it to its last resting 
place. The burial ground was a se- 
cluded spot a little more than a half 
a mile to the north of the prison on 
the hill side: consequently the coffin 
was not carried by hand, but was 
put into an express wagon. This 
was driven by the convicts while 
the guard sat in the rear seat, im- 
mediately over the coffin, with his 
loaded gun directing the whole af- 

During that half mile drive New- 
man scarcely dared breathe for ter- 
ror lest the guard should examine 
the box beneath him too carefully. 
Fortunately for him, however, Tal- 
cott was utterly unsuspicious, and 
in due time they reached the burial 
ground. The horse was hitched to 
a tree, a grave was hastily dug, and 
after a short time, which seemed 
extremely long to the man shut up 
in the box, the two Irishmen came 
to carry the coffin to the grave. 

Now the critical moment had 
come. Thus far the plan had 
Avorked to perfection. The rough 
wooden box had not furnished the 
most comfortable resting place for 
the supposed invalid; but it had 
provided the means for getting out- 
side the prison walls. The next 
thing to be done was to secure a 
stay of proceedings before he should 
be placed in quarters even more re- 
stricted than those of Newgate 

The bearers were ignorant fel- 
lows and superstitious like many of 
their class. The guard was not a 
very intelligent man. And the place 
was well adapted to produce in all 



a sense of awe. Just before they 
reached the grave there came from 
the coffin the sou ml of a supressed 
sigh. The two bearers turned pale, 
looked at one another in fright and 
came to a stand still. The guard 
came close up to them and demand- 
ed the reason of their halt. Just as 
lie caught sight of their blanched 
face- an unearthly groan followed 
the sigh. "Howly Moses!" yelled 
Shea, "the navgur is comin' to 
loifeP "Ow! Ow! It's his ghost!" 
howled Kently, utterly demoralized. 
And with a common impulse they 
dropped the coffin and made a bee 
line for the prison shouting "Och 
murther, he's afther us! He's 
afther us!" mistaking the guard 
who was close behind them and 
only a trifle less terrified than them- 
selves for the ghost of the dead 
negrc In their frantic haste they 
forgot the horse and wagon, and 
covered the entire distance in time 
that would have done credit to pro- 
Fessional sprinters. 

Arrived at the prison the men 
panted out their story in a manner 
thai left no room for doubt as to 
the genuineness of their fright. Tal- 
cott, however, having somewhat re- 
red from his panic in the course 
• if his hard run. tried to make it ap- 
] car thai his haste was due simply 
to anxiety lest his prisoners should 
escape : but he could not quite ac- 
counl for llic absence of his musket 
which he tiling down at the begin- 
ning of the race And the sugges- 
tion thai he return at once for the 
abandoned team was promptly met 
with the reply that Ik- was so ex- 
hausted by his chase after the stam- 
peding Irishmen as to be unfit for 
the tramp. 

The more intelligent officers sus- 

pected some trick, and a couple of 
them were preparing to go to the 
cemetery and finish the job so rude- 
ly abandoned, or at least to ferret 
out the mystery connected with it. 
when the guard on the parapet sud- 
denly called out, "Where's New- 
man?" He then told of seeing New- 
man go into the chapel just before 
the close of the dinner hour, and he 
did not recall seeing him return, 
though he might have done so with- 
out being observed. A hasty search 
failed to discover the missing man. 
and an examination of the chapel 
quickly brought to light the body 
of the negro concealed under the 
pile of cloth. The secret was now 
out, and the guards made all speed 
to the cemetery, where they found 
the empty coffin lying on the 
ground ; but the horse, wagon and 
musket had disappeared and their 
utmost activity failed to recover 

Meanwhile, with the dropping of 
the coffin the revived corpse rolled 
out, and lost no time im taking pos- 
session of the abandoned musket 
mounting the deserted express wag- 
on and putting the horse to his best 
sneed in a direction opposite to that 
by which he had come to the ceme- 
tery. Newman had a full hour the 
start of his pursuers, and he made 
good use of it. After travelling 
about a dozen miles he came to a 
farmhouse whose occupants were 
temporarily absent and effected a 
change of clothing that rendered 
him safe from suspicion besides ob- 
taining a sum of money that had 
been carefully stored up against a 
rainy day. Later he sold the horse 
and wagon for a good sum, and tak- 
ing to the woods, escaped to parts 

A Warren of the Wesl 

By Edward H. Clement 

THERE is another Warren be- 
sides Dr. Joseph Warren of 
Revolutionary fame though of 
the same Pilgrim-descended family. 
Josiah Warren, born in Boston in 
1798, in Mr. William Bailie's able 
sociological study (Small, Maynard 
& Company), is apotheosized as one 
•of the heroes of the larger Social 
Revolution. This revolution is al- 
ways going on — but rt was particm 
larly active in the years of Joseph 
AVarren's young manhood and mid- 
dle life or until the grim realities 
and actualities of the Civil War 
swept away, like cobwebs and 
mists, all mere word spinnings 
and thought refmings upon social 
philosophy and social reorganiza- 
tion. Josiah Warren was one of the 
pioneers before Robert Dale Owen, 
and he had his own individualized 
ideas which he did not surrender 
even in his provisional partnership 
with the great English reformer, 
He lived continually experimenting 
with society-building and town- 
planting, with perhaps half a dozen 
or so new communities to his credit, 
west and east. He was a part, and 
a large part, of the great Fourierite 
movement of the second quarter of 
the nineteenth century which culmi- 
nated in experimental communities 
throughout the land. Horace Greeley 
became its sponsor in the press and 
Brook farm gained for it a place 
in American literature. 

But Josiah Warren stood apart 
from this also, as from Robert Dale 

Owen's co-operative movement. As 
his biographer says : "Until this 
wave subsided and the sincere but 
mistaken communists had time to 
learn by experience the inevitable 
but melancholy lesson, the Indivi- 
dual reformer decided to remain 
quiescent." He then ^pent some years 
in mechanical pursuits during which 
he invented the cylinder printing 
press though others patented it twenty 
years after. But his most enduring 
achievement and monument is his 
doctrine crystallized in the phrase. 
"Sovereignty of the Individual." 
This was coined by Warren and was 
borrowed, with due acknowledg- 
ment, by John Stuart Mill in his 
famous essay on Liberty. In his auto- 
biography Mill speaks appreciatively 
of "A remarkable American, Mr. 
Warren" who "formed a system of 
society on the foundation of the sov- 
ereignty of the individual." Herbert 
Spencer has made the same principle 
the apex of his synthetic philoso- 
phy. In his "Principles of Ethics" 
he formulates it in the law of equal 
freedom : "Every man is free to do 
that which he will provided he in- 
fringes not the equal freedom of any 
other man." Whatever merit at- 
taches to the discovery of this prin- 
ciple of human conduct as the basis 
of a clear conception of justice, Mr. 
Bailie insists, must be credited to 
Josiah Warren who first saw its full 
significance and demonstrated its 
practical applications. Indeed it 
may be said that to this end he 




devoted with admirable singleness of 

purpose his whole life. "When man- 
kind comes to recognize this great 
fundamental truth the need of com- 
pulsory cohesive authority as em- 
bodied in government will pass 
a\\av."says the idealist anarchism of 
the Tolstoi stripe. "Under the plaus- 
ible pretext," wrote Warren, "of pro- 
tecting person and property, govern- 
ments have spread wholesale des- 
truction, famine and misery all over 
the earth where peace and security 
might otherwise have prevailed. 
They have shed more blood, commit- 
ted more murders, tortures, and 
crimes in struggles against each 
other for the privilege of governing 
than society would or could have 
suffered in the absence of all govern- 
ments whatever." 

After a strenuous life, thickly 
strewn with apparent failures, this 
Warren of the West came back to 
Boston and its neighborhood. Sev- 
eral years were spent hereabouts in 
authorship and parlor lecturings, 
with his home at Cliftondale and at 
Princeton, Worcester County, where 
he died in 1874, at the age of j6. 

The unpatented early Warren 
"speed press" was capable of throw- 
ing off from its cylinders and end- 
less roll of paper, sixty or more 
copies a minute, whereas the press- 
men who operated it had never seen 
a press print more than five or six 
copies a minute. The mean instinct of 
self-preservation in the printers led 
them to throw the press out of order 
at every opportunity. It was a physi- 
cal illustration of the fate of all his 
schemes for the reformation of so- 
ciety by doing away with capital 
and creed in business. The immedi- 
ate examples were failures — the 
principles are "marching on." 

The germ of his idea was the 
"Equity Store" which he opened in 
Cincinnati in 1827. It was a little 
country store but it was believed by 
its founder to the day of his death 
to have contained the germ of the 
co-operative movement of the future, 
a fairer and finer co-operation than 
that of Robert Dale Owen. 

In the early decades of the nine- 
teenth century Cincinnati was on 
the outer edge of civilization, and 
as, at home in Boston, Josiah War- 
ren had played with his brother 
George in brass bands as a profes- 
sional musician, when the young 
man gone west reached this frontier 
town he decided to settle there as 
an orchestra-leader and teacher of 
music. He devoted his leisure at 
first, however, to several mechanical 
inventions, one of which was a lamp 
for burning lard that would furnish 
a cheaper and better light than tal- 
low. In a year or two the young 
Bostonian was running a lamp man- 
ufactory in Cincinnati. 

But this was sold almost as soon 
as started, in order that Warren and 
his family might join Owen in the 
grand experiment which was about 
to begin at New Harmony, Indiana, 
where 900 enthusiasts were gathered 
from all parts of the country on the 
Rappite estates (owned by Rapp, 
the founder of this German social 
reform) and laying the foundations 
of the intelligent community which 
is today a centre of light and leading 
as it always has been for the Middle 
West— "The Athens of the West, a 
honae of culture and a centre of re- 
form" as it is called in a recent num- 
ber of Unity. Two years sufficed 
for Warren of the vicissitudes, dis- 
appointment and inharmony of the 
New Harmony community as it 



then existed. He left there thorough- 
ly convinced of the inadequacy of 
communism to correct the evils of 
private capital and the failure both 
of paternalistic authority and major- 
ity rule as forms of government. 
Twenty-nine years later, writing of 
his New Harmony experiences, War- 
ren thus records his mature judg- 
ment : "What a world of disappoint- 
ment and suffering this experience 
might have saved others who have 
kept on organizing communities., 
phalansteries, political parties, and 
national revolutions, only to fail 
of course as we did, and to de- 
stroy by degrees the little hope 
that exists of making the world 
more fit to live in." All the affairs 
of the community were decided 
either by Owen as proprietor, or by 
the will of the majority; personal 
liberty was at a discount and in- 
centive to sustained individual effort 
was lacking. Cured here for good 
of all faith in any scheme based on 
community of goods and authority 
of organization, Warren returned 
to Cincinnati at twenty-nine a con- 
firmed Individualist — today his pan- 
egyrist hails him as "the First 
American Anarchist" — an American 
Tolstoi before Tolstoi. 

He was not long in elaborating 
an experiment which was either to 
prove the practicability of Individu- 
alism or demonstrate its futility. His 
invention was then and long after- 
wards known as the "Time Store," 
or as he called it the "Equity Store." 
-Its business was conducted on the 
principle of the equal exchange of 
labor measured by the time occupied 
and exchanged, hour for hour, with 
other kinds of labor. All goods were 
marked with the price in plain fig- 
ures which was their Cost price, 

plus a nominal percentage to cover 
freight, shrinkage, rent, etc., usually 
about four cents on the dollar. Busi- 
ness was done in this manner : The 
purchaser selects what he needs; 
the time spent by the merchant in 
waiting upon him, is found by ref- 
erence to the big clock of the store; 
and the customer gives his labor 
note for so many minutes in car- 
penter work, or if the customer be a 
woman, say, so many minutes in 
needle work. The store keeper thus 
agreed to exchange his time in dis- 
tributing goods for an equal amount 
of the time of those who bought 
goods. Profits on the goods there 
were none. Here was the application 
and the principle of pure labor for 
labor, the Cost principle in its most 
primitive form. His store was also 
a depository for salable products. 
The depositor of goods when his 
wares had been accepted was at lib- 
erty to take other goods to' an equal 
amount from the store or to take 
Josiah Warren's labor notes in- 
stead. The Equity Store had many 
sympathetic friends who wished to 
raise capital for its enlargement, but 
Warren discouraged them, as it was 
inconsistent to ask capital's aid 
while trying to kill capital. One 
wholesale merchant assured Warren 
that the time would come when all 
the world would conduct its busi- 
ness on those principles. 

During Warren's first residence in 
Cincinnati he had obtained a lease 
for ninety-nine years from Mr. Nicho- 
las Longworth, the well known Cin- 
cinnati merchant, giving him eight 
blocks of the best building land in 
the middle of Cincinnati. Upon this 
estate the young genius from Boston 
built a few brici houses in one of 
which he lived for several years. 



But ii was in one of these blocks 
that the first Equity Store was set 
up, to furnish a concrete example of 
the meaning of Cost as the limit of 
price; and in order to engage in the 
broader dissemination of his prin- 
ciples the Boston reformer decided 
to terminate the store experiment, 
and soon after that his conscientious 
scruples as to holding land for spec- 
ulative purposes, in order to acquire 
wealth by rise of land values not 
due to the creation of the individual 
owner but to social causes beyond 
his control, caused him to go to Mr. 
Longworth and return uncondition- 
ally the lease which would have 
made him a multi-millionaire. 

Warren and Robert Dale Owen 
were close friends for a while and 
Owen invited Warren to come to 
New York and found an institution 
devoted to educating the world to 
Equitable Commerce, for which 
Owen would furnish the funds. But 
Owen's previous arrangements de- 
layed action until Warren tired of 
waiting for him, returned to Ohio, 
and there his next move was an 
"Equity" village. At this time in a 
sparsely settled country village he 
supported his family by his precari- 
ous earnings as a band musician. 
But inspired by his steadfast faith 
in the ultimate regeneration of the 
race he began the building of his 
village, with half a dozen families. 
Malaria and constant sickness soon 
carried off the less robust of their 
members and deterred others from 
coming. So he again returned to 
New Harmony, which despite the 
failure of communism had grown 
into a prosperous town. Here a new 
"Time Store" was inaugurated and 
"no institution political, moral or 
religious ever assumed a more sud- 

den and extensive popularity than 
the Time Store of New Harmony," 
writes Warren. His own account 
of its ending is this : "When all the 
stores in the surrounding country 
had come down in their prices to an 
equilibrium with the Equity Store, 
the custom ' naturally flowed back 
again to them and the next step was 
to wind up the Time Store and com- 
mence a village." With the money 
which his typographical inventions 
had brought him, $7,000 for stereotyp- 
ing patents, he secured land and be- 
gan another model town, in which 
he was to show the victims of cap- 
ital how they could escape from its 
tyranny. When they began on the 
new plan in July, there was not $10 
in the possession of all the settlers. 
But by the following December 
most of the families had good 
houses, some being built of brick 
two stories^ high, nearly or wholly 
paid for. The owner of the mill is- 
sued his notes payable in lumber; 
a man paid for his lot with his labor 
notes ; the mill needed that man's 
labor and the owner of the mill 
needed lumber. The man who sold 
his labor issued his notes promising 
his labor in the mill, the owner of 
the mill took them of the land own- 
er for lumber, and the laboring man 
redeemed them in tending the mill. 
"With all my hopes,' said Warren, 
in writing about this new town 
(which was called Utopia), "I did 
not expect to see land bought with 
labor notes so soon as this." 

But still another settlement was 
to be among the fruits of this in- 
domitable optimist's propagandism. 
Having taken up his abode in 1850 
in New York City, where he con- 
verted Stephen Pearl Andrews, the 
philosophical writer and reformer, 



to the philosophy of "Equity" — a 
following arose both in New York 
and in Boston for Warren's Indivi- 
dualistic form of co-operation. War- 
ren was accustomed to hold informal 
meetings in "parlor conversations," 
in which he disseminated his ideas. 
The Fourierites were easily won 
over to Warren's improvements on 
their ideas in these gatherings for 
the discussions of social problems 
in the light of the now varied ex- 
perience of the veteran. A colony 
was founded in Long Island 40 miles 
from New York and called "Modern 
Times." The publicity which the 
New York papers gave it in the 
'50's drew to it an undue number of 
cranks and disreputable and "other- 
wise obnoxious" persons of both 
sexes. But the village finally shook 
itself free of them — and broad ave- 
nues, tree shaded streets, pretty cot- 
tages, surrounded by strawberry 
beds and well-tilled gardens with a 
population of honest and industrious 
people, formed the community. Mon- 
cure D. Conway who visited Modern 
Times in 1858, described Warren as 
"A man to whom all show a profound 
respect, and who was introduced as 
the reformer to embody whose ideas 
the village had been established. He 
was a short, thick-set man about 
fifty years of age, with a bright, rest- 
less blue eye, and somewhat rest- 
less, too, in his movements. His 
forehead was large, descending to a 
good full brow; his lower face, es- 
pecially the mouth, was not of equal 
strength, but indicated a mild en- 

thusiasm. He was fluent, eager, and 
entirely absorbed in his social ideas. 
It was pleasant to listen to him." 
The panic of 1857 wrecked the en- 
terprise of Modern Times, but 
though the original aims of the pio- 
neers were lost sight of in the strug- 
gle for existence, the village of Mod- 
ern Times, like the town of New 
Harmony, has never wholly depart- 
ed from its original spirit and char- 

It is impressive, in looking back 
over the career of this Massachu- 
setts genius whom Mr. Bailie has 
restored to public knowledge, to see 
that whatever he did, whether in 
achievement, or in martyrdom, was 
done in the name and for the good of 
all. His surrender of his ninety-nine 
year lease of eight blocks of land in 
the heart of Cincinnati, his throwing 
open to public benefit the idea of 
stereotyping a cylinder of type and 
printing from the endless roll now in 
universal use, for better dissemina- 
tion of knowledge, and with the 
naive design of "taking the printing 
power out of the exclusive control 
of merely mercenary managers and 
making it as accessible as the use of 
speech or pen" — all is of the fine 
altruism which has come to be rec- 
ognized as the highest test of char- 
acter — that "feeling which if per- 
fect, would make a man never think 
of, or desire, any beneficial condition 
for himself, in the benefits of which 
all the rest are not included," as 
John Stuart Mill simply and nobly 
formulated it. 

Ballads of Old Boston 

The Flying Irishman 


By M. A. DeWolfe Howe 

With a rural clamor in urban air, 
Chattering;, twittering everywhere 
Over the mouldered slabs that say, 
"Here lie the elect of the royal day," 
The sparrows flutter on restless wing — 
English sparrows to honor the King 
Whose name the ancient Chapel saves : 
Mark them when next you pass the graves, 
Then another flight, of a stranger kind, 
Over the tombstones, bring to mind. 

No English bird, but an Irish wight, 

Was the aeronaut who made this flight. 

The Chapel was building, and nearly done ; 

At least the roofing was well begun, — 

And the workmen unawed by the holy place 

Established a most unholy race. 

For every day at the noontime bell 

They scrambled down to the ground pell-mell, 

And who came last must ever be first 

To pay for quenching his comrades' thirst. 

Now Pat was the nimblest of all the lot, 
And vowed that never he'd pay the shot 
For so dry a crew: — they vowed he would, 
Or the reason why must be understood. 
So they plotted, and hatched a flawless plan 
To drink al the cost of the Irishman. 



One summer's day as noon drew nigh 

They followed Pat with a watchful eye. 

To finish the task he was set to do 

There were minutes to spare — if the bell rang true ! 

But bearing slate to the roof's far end, 

He needed Time at least for a friend ; 


Then Time betrayed him, for, hark, too soon, 
The planned precipitate stroke of noon ! 
He turned to look at the belfry steps — 
Packed, like a caucus ! each -particefs 
Criminis jeering and joking Pat! 
But quick ! there's a trick worth two of that, 
And playing it now he may save in a trice 
His pride and his purse from sacrifice ! 

He draws a slate from out of his pack, 
Slips it sled-wise under his back — 


And coasts away like the School-street boys, 

With less of laughter, and more of poise — 

Every bit of it needed, too, 

When forth from the eaves he cleaves the blue; 

Say rather the green, for he sails clean through 

A tree's thick leafage, and lights at last, 

Still on his slate, all dangers past, 

Sitting upright on an ancient tomb 

Like a rising saint on the day of doom! 

No English sparrow — an Irish wight 

( )nly could make so grand a flight. 

With time at the end of it, sound and tight 

To run to the foot of the belfry stairs, 

And taking the plotters unawares 

To greet them : "Bedad, have ye never heard 

Of the early worm and the Irish bird?" 

The Empty Vase 

By Emma Beatrice Thayer 

It stands complete, yet strangely incomplete; 

An empty vase, where faint sweet odors cling, 
Soft memories of blossoms fair, and sweet, 

Long faded with the light of vanished spring. 

My heart resigned, yet conscious of unrest, 
My empty life, its faded flower hath known, 

That dear dead blossom, which my life hath blest.. 
Naught can recall save memory alone. 

And yet, I know, that in some garden fair, 
God's mercy tendeth some sweet bud for me, 

And so this rose, with heart of beauty rare, 
I pluck, dear empty vase, and give to thee. 

The Massachusetts Bench and Bar 

By Stephen O. Sherman and Weston F. Hutchins 


Ancient and Modern Judicial Events 

Sweetscr's Great Legal Victories — Governor Andrew's Controversy with the Supreme 
Court — Removal of Judge Day from the Barnstable Probate Court — Where the Courts 
of Suffolk County Were Formerly Quartered — Faneuil Hall Used for Murder Trials — 
Churches Also Availed of in an Emergency. 


was an intellectual giant and 
his physical powers were pro- 
portionate to his mental ability. 
He was a natural leader of men. 
and if he had been called to repre- 
sent Massachusetts in the Congress 
of the United States he would 


have taken his place with the great 
men who have done honorable ser- 
vice for the country. Law instead 
of politics was his chosen life 
work, and the only exception was 
when he consented to become a 
member of the Massachusetts House 
of Representatives from Lowell in 


io 4 


1868. A.S a Democrat he championed 
the cause of his party in the Legis- 
lature, but he had his match on the 
Republican side in Charles R. Train. 
Compared with men like Sweetser 
and Train the so-called leaders of 
both political parties today are pig- 
mies. Mr. Sweetser had as lieuten- 
ants Benjamin Dean, Patrick A. Col- 
lins. William Gaston, Melville E. In- 
galls, afterwards president of the Big- 
Four Railroad Company, Alonzo M. 
Giles, Thomas J. Gargan and 
Charles Levi Woodbury of Boston, 
John Quincy Adams of Quincy, 
John K. Tarbox of Lawrence. 
Thomas F. Plunkett of Pittsfield 
and Edward Avery of Braintree. 

Mr. Train could count upon the 
support of Francis W. Bird of Wal- 
pole, Joshua N. Marshall of Lowell, 
Avery Plummer, Moses Kimball, 
Harvey Jewell, Linus M. Childs, Na- 
thaniel C. Nash, Alvah A. Burrage, 
Lansing Millis and Life Baldwin all 
of Boston, William A. Russell of 
Lawrence, afterwards member of 
Congress, John I. Baker of Beverly, 
Charles J. Mclntyre of Cambridge, 
now judge of probate, John B. Good- 
rich of Newton, Theodore C. Hurd 
of Framingham, now clerk of courts 
for Middlesex, Colonel William T. 
Grammar of Woburn, James B. 
Francis of Lowell, the eminent hy- 
draulic engineer, Thomas L. Nelson 
of Worcester, afterwards judge of 
the United States District Court, 
Stephen M. Crosby of Williams- 
. Shepard Thayer of Adams, 
Colonel Eliphalet Stone of Dedham, 
Rodney French of New Bedford, 
Tracey I'. Cheever of Chelsea, Gen- 
eral William Schouler of Lynn, Ad- 
jutant General of the Common- 
wealth during the civil war, General 
William Sutton of South Danvers, 

Marshal Wilcox of Lee, Samuel W. 
Bowerman of Pittsfield, Richard H. 
Dana of Cambridge, and Thomas 
Parsons of Brookline. 

When Mr. Train and Mr. Sweet- 
ser were arrayed against each other 
it was a battle royal and the best 
interests of the Commonwealth 
were the issue. 

Mr. Sweetser in the practice of 
law had an able associate in William 
Sewall Gardner, afterwards one of 
the justices of the Superior, and later 
of the Supreme Court. Mr. Gardner 
had a well balanced mind and at the 
bar and upon the bench his merits 
were appreciated. Together Messrs. 
Sweetser and Gardner presented 
many important questions to the full 
bench of the Supreme Court, and 
their contentions were almost invari- 
ably sustained. 

One of their great victories in- 
volved constitutional rights never in 
dispute before. In 1871 there was 
an investigation by a Legislative 
committee of charges of corruption 
against the State police which sub- 
sequently led to the abolition of that 
force. Much of the testimony to 
sustain the allegations came from 
liquor dealers with whose business 
state officers were brought into close 
relations. Realizing that testimony 
along that line would not in every 
instance be voluntary, the legislature 
passed an act granting immunity 
from prosecution to all such dealers 
who should be called before the com- 
mittee, and further provided that 
they should be compelled to testify. 

Henry Emery, proprietor of the 
Merrimac House at Lowell, when 
called before the committee refused, 
on the advice of Sweeter and Gard- 
ner, to testify. The committee re- 
ported the facts to the House of 




Representatives which adjudgd Em- 
ery guilty of contempt and sentenc- 
ed him to imprisonment for twenty- 
five days in the Suffolk County jail. 
In less than an hour afterwards 
Emery was before Judge Wells of 
the Supreme Court upon a writ of 
habeas corpus, and Judge Wells, af- 
ter a brief hearing reserved the legal 
questions raised for the determination 
of the full court and admitted Emery 
to bail in the sum of $5,000. The 
action of Judge Wells in permitting 
Emery to have his freedom while 
the case was pending before the full 
court made a good deal of talk 
among the lawyers at the time, es- 
pecially in view of trie fact that Em- 
ery had been committed for con- 
tempt by one of the branches of the 

General Court, and it was predicted 
that Judge Wells would not have al- 
lowed bail unless he had been con- 
vinced that the ultimate decision 
would have been in favor of Emery. 
Judge Wells must have heard of 
this talk for in a foot note to the 
opinion of the full court written by 
him, he says: "Rail allowed to be 




given without any regard to the 
question whether or not the petition- 
er was entitled to be released finally 
upon the writ. 

"Gen. Sts., See 144, Sec. 24 pro- 
vides that until judgment is given, 
the court or judge may remand the 
party, or may bail him to appear 
from day to day, or may commit 



him to the sheriff of the county, or 
place him under such other care and 
custody as the circumstances of the 
case may require. 

"It is the special authority and 
not the general power to admit to 
bail, that has thus far been exercised 
in this case." 

The full court in declaring- the act 
unconstitutional and ordering- the 
discharge of Emery said : "The pro- 
vision oi the Declaration of Rights, 
that no subject shall be compelled 
to accuse or furnish evidence against 
himself, exempts the subject from 
disclosing circumstances of his of- 
fense as well as making confessions 
of guilt ; applies to investigations 
ordered and conducted by the Leg- 
islature, or either of its branches; 
is regulated therein by the same 
rules as in judicial or other in- 
quiries and is not dispensed with 
by any statute which fails to secure 
the subject from future liability and 
exposure to be prejudiced, in any 
criminal proceeding against him, as 
fully and extensively as he would be 
secured by availing himself of the 
constitutional privilege." 

At about the time the Emery 
case was attracting public attention 
Messrs. Sweetser and Gardner won 
in another case involving new and 
important questions. One Erederick 
Lockwood had been convicted in the 
Superior Criminal Court at Boston 
011 a charge of the embezzlement of 
a large amount of money in cotton 
transactions. Exceptions were tak- 
en 10 the Supreme Court and pend- 
ing their disposition the Governor 
and Executive Council, in view of 
mitigating circumstances, granted a 
pardon to Lockwood. When he was 
called for sentence in the Superior 
Criminal Courl he pleaded the par- 

don as a bar and Judge Lord report- 
ed the matter to the Supreme Court. 
That tribunal in an opinion written 
by Mr. Justice Gray held that the 
Governor had the right to grant a 
pardon after conviction before sen- 
tence, and that the defendant by 
waiving his exceptions and pleading 
the pardon was entitled to discharge. 
During the administration of John 
A. Andrew as Governor of the Com- 
monwealth he had quite a contro- 
versy with Judge Ebenezer Rock- 
wood Hoar and his associates of the 
Supreme court arising out of a mur- 
der case in 1863. Among the officers 
in the bank in the town of Maiden 
was Frank E. Converse, son of the 
late Hon. Elisha C. Converse. Young 
Converse was the assistant cashier 
of the bank which at the noon hour 
was left entirely in his charge. The 
dangers of daylight robberies were 
never thought of in those days and 
there were no such precautions as 
are found in every country bank to- 
day. One afternoon on returning 
to the bank one of the officers found 
Converse dead with a bullet wound 
in his head and much of the cash 
missing. No person was seen going 
in or out of the bank at about the 
hour when it was thought the mur- 
der had occurred, and the authorities 
of Maiden had little to work upon. 
But the City of Boston at that time 
had a detective force of able men, 
and a reward for the arrest of the 
murderer stimulated them to action. 
They became suspicious of Edward 
W. Green, postmaster of Maiden 
and an intimate friend of young 
Converse. It was learned by the of- 
ficers that before the murder Green 
was quite heavily in debt and that 
immediately afterwards he began to 
pay his bills. Within a few days, 




while Green was in Boston, the de- 
tectives arrested him and he made 
a full confession of his guilt, saying 
that his only motive for the crime 
was his sore need of money. 

Green was indicted by the grand 
jury of Middlesex County, and when 
arraigned before Judge Hoar plead- 
ed guilty to murder in the second 
degree. The Attorney General re- 
fused to accept that plea and Judge 
Hoar instructed Green that he must 
either plead guilty in the first de- 
gree or not guilty. By advice of 
counsel Green accepted the first al- 
ternative and was sentenced to be 

Governor Andrew refused to sign 
the death warrant of Green, con- 
tending that under the provisions of 
the statute the degree of murder 
must be fixed by a jury. In October 
of 1864 Governor Andrew asked the 
Supreme Court for an opinion as to 

whether Judge Hoar should have al- 
lowed the prisoner to plead any 
more than simply "guilty." 

The full bench of the Supreme 
Court sustained the action of Judge 
Hoar, and Governor Andrew then 
asked the Executive Council to 
commute the sentence of Green to 
life imprisonment but the Council 


refused to comply with the request. 
At the beginning of the year 1866 
Governor Andrew retired from of- 
fice and was succeeded by Alexan- 
der H. Bullock who in March of that 
year signed the warrant for the ex- 
ecution of Green. Governor An- 
drew made one more effort to save 
Green's life and on March 21, 1866, 
filed a petition for a writ of error 
praying for a reversal of the judg- 
ment rendered against Green. The 
court, however, reaffirmed its previ- 
ous decision, and held that under the 



General Statutes it is competent for 
this court when held by a single 
justice to arraign a person indicted 
for a capital crime, and, if he pleads 
guilty to proceed and award sen- 
tence against him, according to 

There has been no legislation on 
the matter since Green was hanged, 
but it has been the invariable prac- 
tice of the courts not to accept a 
plea of guilty of murder in the first 
degree. If a defendant offers such 
a plea today the court will order 
a plea of not guilty to be entered on 
the record and leave the question of 
degree to be determined by a jury. 

In a previous article reference was 
made to the removal from office of 
Edward G. Loring, Judge of Pro- 
bate for Suffolk County, who at the 
same time held the office of United 
States Commissioner and remanded 
fugitive slaves to the custody of 
their owners. The removal of Judge 
Loring was in accordance with a 
provision of the constitution of Mas- 
sachusetts that a man cannot hold 
two offices at the same time. In 
striking contrast with the position 
r>f Judge Loring was that taken by 
Ellis Gray Loring, a distinguished 
member of the Suffolk bar, who 
was one of the twelve who formed 
the Anti-Slavery Society in Bos- 
ton in 1833. Tn defence of the 
slave child "Med" in the Massachu- 
setts Supreme Court he succeeded in 
obtaining the decision that every 
slave brought on Massachusetts soil 
by the owner was legally free; a 
case precisely analagous to the cele- 
brated "Somerset" case in England. 
By this argument he achieved the 
unusual success of convincing the 
Opposing counsel, Henjamin R. Cur- 
tis, afterwards a justice of the Unit- 

ed States Supreme Court, who shook 
hands with him after the trial, say- 
ing: "Your argument has entirely 
converted me to your side, Mr. Lor- 
ing." This incident probably influ- 
enced Judge Curtis to hold in his 
dissenting opinion that Dred Scott 
as a resident of Missouri, a free state 
was a citizen of that state and was 
entitled to all the privileges of a 
white man. 

Joseph M. Day, a democratic war 
horse of Massachusetts, was re- 
moved from the office of Judge of 
Probate for Barnstable County on 
grounds similar to those which pre- 
vailed against Judge Loring, al- 
though the motive which prompted 
action differed from that in the case 
of Judge Loring. 

Mr. Day became Judge of Probate 
in 1858, and while holding that posi- 
tion was appointed Collector of Cus- 
toms for the district of Barnstable 
with the understanding that he 
would resign the office of judge of 

It appeared in evidence before a 
legislative committee that while 
holding both of saidofficesDay cor- 
ruptly demanded and received from 
officers recommended for appoint- 
ment by him, sums varying from $35 
to $100 each, amounting in all to 
about $1500; and that after holding 
said offices for some months he re- 
signed the collectorship for a pe- 
cuniary consideration, and with the 
understanding that the officials then 
appointed on his recommendation 
should not be disturbed during their 
terms of office. The committee found 
that the amount received by Judge 
Day from his successsor as Collector 
of Customs was $1800; and the evi- 
dence also showed that as Judge of 
Probate he had taken money for ad- 




vice in probate matters which he 
was called to act upon. 

The legislature on the report of 
the committee requested the Gover- 
nor to remove Judge Day, and in 
June, 1882, Governor Long did re- 
move him. 

Julius Rockwell served on the 
bench of the Superior Court for 


many years, and his rulings and de- 
cisions were always based on good 
sound common sense. Before en- 
tering upon a judicial career he had 
served in the Senate of the United 
States, to fill the vacancy caused by 
the death of Edward Everett, and 
was also a member of the National 
House of Representatives for three 
terms. While in the latter branch 
fie served upon the Committee on 
Territories, of which Stephen A. 
Douglas was chairman. In the im- 
portant debates that arose out of 
the report of the committee prior 



If ?a 

**~ <w 


^ -\ 

- *■ • 4 

'..■■ ■'*■.-. -'■' -/I 


to the civil war Judge Rockwell took 
a prominent part, and few men could 
excel him in presenting his views 
from a Whig standpoint. Judge 
Rockwell was also the first Republi- 
can candidate for governor of Mas- 
sachusetts, and although defeated 
received a very large vote. In speak- 
ing of that campaign to the writer 
years afterwards Judge Rockwell 
facetiously remarked that if every 
man had voted for him who told 
him he had, he certainly would have 
been elected. In personal appear- 
ance Judge Rockwell was of the 
Abraham Lincoln type, and had a 
most kindly heart. 

John W. Bacon will be best re- 
membered as chief justice of the 
Municipal Court where he rendered 
valuable service. He possessed an 
impulsive nature, and often seemed 
to be severe when he meant to be 
humane. He realized as fully as any 
person his weaknesses, and frequent* 



ly paused in an outburst of temper 
and did the things that his good in- 
clinations prompted. As one of the 
associate justices of the Superior 
Court he was hardly equal to the re- 
quirements of that position although 
his previous experience in the lower 
court was often valuable in the crim- 
inal session of the Superior Court. 

Mellen Chamberlain made quite a 
record as Chief Justice of the Muni- 
cipal Court, but literary pursuits 
were more congenial to him than the 
administration of the law, and after 
he resigned his seat upon the bench 
to become Librarian of the Boston 
Public Library he entered upon a 
field of work that he enjoyed and 
which the public appreciated. 

Before Faneuil Hall was built the 
public meeting place of the inhabi- 
tants of the town of Boston was in 
what is now known as the Old State 
House then called the "Old Town 
House." The courts for Suffolk 
County were also held there from 
about 1713 to 1747, when the build- 
ing was seriously damaged by fire, 
with occasional sessions when nec- 
essary in the First Church on State 
street, which stood on the land now 
occupied by the Brazer Building. 
In the fire of December 9, 1847, val- 
uable records were destroyed except 
those of the inferior courts which 
were deposited on one of the lower 
floors that the fire did not reach. 
The walls of the entire building 
remained intact. 

When the interior of the town 
house was rebuilt a room was re- 
served for the use of the court on 
the westerly end of the second floor 
with dimensions of twenty by fifteen 
feet. The clerks' offices were on the 
lower floor and for all important 
trials the Representatives Hall was 

available. In the years 1746 and 
1747 murder trials were held at Fan- 
euil Hall. 

The first movement for separating 
the courts from the Town House 
was to build a brick building on 
land near the jail in 1754, the latter 
being situated between Court street 
(then Queen) and School street. 

The area between Court and 
School streets, where the old court 
house and the City Hall now stand, 
was set aside for public uses at the 
settlement of the town and was 
called the prison lot. On this site 
more than one court house and jail 
were erected as the population in- 
creased, and a court house once 
stood on the site of the present city- 

Suffolk County in 1754, when a 
new court house and jail were com- 
pleted at a cost of $15,000, consist- 
ed of Boston, Roxbury, Dorchester, 
Milton, Wrentham, Brookline, Need- 
ham, Stoughton, Braintree, Wey- 
mouth, Hingham, Dedham, Med- 
field, Bellingham, Hull, Walpole and 

In 1768 the probate court build- 
ing was torn down and a new court 
house was erected on the site of the 
present City Hall. The new build- 
ing was of brick, three stories in 
height, and was surmounted by an 
octagon cupola. On the lower floor 
were orifices for the United States 
Marshal, the Sheriff of the county, 
the Provident Institute for Savings, 
and several private offices. The 
second floor was occupied by the 
United States Circuit and District 
Courts and the third floor was used 
entirely for jury rooms. From 1810 
to 1840 this building was substan- 
tially the United States court house. 
The offices of the state courts re- 


20 1 

mained in the Old State House, and 
when sessions were held the judges 
would meet at the Old State House, 
don their robes, and in solemn pro- 
cession march to Court Square. 

In about 1832 the needs of a more 
commodious court house became so 
urgent that the existing one was de- 
molished and work was begun on 


the sombre looking structure which 
now stands in Court Square. This 
building was completed at a cost of 
about $196,000, and it was supposed 
at the time that it would meet all 
requirements for a hundred years at 
least. It is a massive and unattrac- 
tive structure a*nd was first used in 
1836. In its Doric front on Court 
street are granite columns weighing 
twenty-five tons each. These were 
hauled by oxen from the quarries at 
Quincy. A similar portico was con- 
structed at the end nearest City Hall 
and was removed about 1868 in or- 


der to lengthen the ancient building. 

In the additional rooms thus se- 
cured a place was provided for the 
Social Library which from a small 
beginning has attained large propor- 
tions and today requires a consider- 
able part of the front of the second 
story of the Court House in Pember- 
ton Square. A feature of the old 
court house which many persons re- 
member was the "Tombs" in the 
basement where prisoners from all 
the police stations were sent before 
being taken to the Municipal Court. 

Court Square ceased to be a site 
for jails in 1822 when a new building 
for that purpose was provided in 
Leverett street. This was also oc- 
cupied by the Municipal Court and 
House of Correction. The present 
jail in Charles street was in use in 

The new Court House in Pem- 
berton Square was completed in 
1890 and it was then believed that 



it would be ample for many years. 
The rapid growth of civil business 
has already overcrowded it and two 
additional stories are to be built at 
a cost of $800,000. 

The first court house in Court 
Square has been made famous by 
Hawthorne who planted a rose bush 
on the grass plat near the front door 
which was a sharp contrast with the 
gloomy surroundings. 

In this building persons accused of 
witchcraft had their trial and its 
heavy oaken doors stood between 
the pirate Kidd and liberty. In the 
old court house in Court Square Pro- 
fessor John W. Webster was tried 
for the murder of George Parkman 
— one of the most celebrated cases 
in the history of criminal jurispru- 
dence. After the Dred Scott deci- 
sion and the enforcement of the Fug- 
itive Slave law there were exciting 
scenes in the old court house when 
fugitive slaves were brought before 
Edward G. Loring, United States 
Commissioner, and remanded to 
their owners. The rendition of 
Burns created intense excitement in 
Boston among the Abolitionists and 
public meetings were held at Fan- 
euil Hall and elsewhere to "protest 
against this outrage on Liberty." At 
Faneuil Hall Wendell Phillips, The- 
odore Parker and Francis W. Bird 
spoke. While the meeting was in 
progress word was received that a 
party of negroes was attempting to 
release Burns. The meeting dis- 
solved and the large crowd present 
headed for Court Square where a 
riot was then under way. The heavy 
oaken doors were battered in but 
the police and militia restored order 
after one officer had been killed and 
several persons injured. Indictments 
for inciting a riot were found against 

Wendell Phillips, Theodore Parker, 
Thomas Wentworth Higginson 
(who with Albert G. Browne, Jr., 
afterwards military secretary to 
Governor Andrew and Reporter of 
Decisions of the Supreme Court, Seth 
Webb and John L.Swift, had formed 
a plan to rescue Burns), and a few 
others. The defendants had as coun- 
sel John A. Andrew, Henry F. Du- 
rant, John P. Hale, William L. Burt, 
afterwards Postmaster of Boston, 
and Charles M. Ellis. The cases 
never went to a jury,theindictments 
having been quashed. The interest 
in Burns was such that after he had 
been returned the South Boston 
men purchased his freedom, and he 
died in Canada in 1862. 

The Supreme Court room on the 
second floor of the old Court House 
in Court Square, which is now a part 
of the room occupied by the office 
of the city board of health, was the 
scene of many important murder 
trials and has often resounded to the 
eloquence of Webster, Choate, Cush- 
ing and other great advocates. 
Charles Dickens referred to this 
room in his visit to the Court house 
as described in American Notes. It 
was in the corridor just below this 
court room that Joseph Willard, the 
veteran clerk of the Court of Com- 
mon Pleas, parted with Mr. Choate 
on the eve of his departure for Eu- 
rope, a trip from which he never 
returned alive. "Mr. Choate," said 
Willard, "I hope you will have a 
pleasant and prosperous trip, and 
that you will return much improved 
in health." "I shall return," replied 
Choate, "in a thousand years." 

The feelings of the people of Bos- 
ton became so intense on the slavery 
question that the city authorities 
were obliged to ask the United 



States Court to vacate quarters then 
occupied in the old court house. 
These courts first removed to a hall 
in Bowdoin Square, and later se- 
cured the old Masonic Temple at the 
corner of Tremont street and Tem- 
ple Place now occupied by R. H. 
Stearns & Co. The United States 
Courts remained there for a number 
of years and when the federal build- 
ing in Post Office Square was com- 
pleted they were assigned rooms 
there which they now occupy. 

Mr. George C. Wilde was Clerk 
of the Supreme Judicial Court for 
more than forty years and his father, 
Samuel Sumner Wilde was an asso- 
ciate justice of the Supreme Judicial 
Court thirty-five years. A clerk of 
the court in the days of Mr. Wilde 
occupied an entirely different posi- 
tion from the clerk of today. Then 
in matters of procedure and prac- 
tice the judges relied almost entire- 
ly on the clerks; but those days have 
passed and the judges are now as 
familiar with the rules as any person 
who has had a special training along 
that line. Politics had a good deal 
to do with the change. In old times 
the clerk was selected because of su- 
perior qualifications for the position 
and after the legislature had changed 
the law so that clerks should be 
elected by the people instead of be- 
ing appointed by the judges great 
care was exercised in candidates and 
a good clerk once installed was sure 
to receive when his term expired the 
nomination of both political parties. 
The people have always seemed to 
regard the offices of clerks of courts 
as an important part of the judicial 
system of the Commonwealth, and 
even in later years, when politics has 
invaded the field, the people have 
resented any attempt to oust the 

trained and valuable official. There 
has not been an instance in Suffolk 
County, where all the offices have 
been attacked by the politicians 
within a few years, that a change 
has been made except where a va- 
cancy had to be filled on account of 

The old clerks like Mr. Wilde 
seemed to have a feeling that all doc- 
uments filed in their offices were ex- 
clusively under their jurisdiction, and 
that without their consent no person 
had a right to look at them. These 
clerks did not mean to be offensive, 
as they would be regarded today, 
but the traditions of the years had 
formed habits that had limited their 

For years the Boston Daily Ad- 
vertiser had an exclusive field for 
court proceedings, and it contributed 
in a great degree to the financial 
success of that paper. To do the 
work a well 1 known lawyer was em- 
ployed and there was hardly a law- 
yer in Boston who did not consider 
it necessary to have the Advertiser 
in his office every morning. Under 
a single headline of "The Courts," 
a column or two would frequently 
appear and important matters were 
often included. To make what would 
now be regarded as valuable news 
matter as obscure as possible the 
Advertiser had it set in agate type. 

Soon after entering the service of 
the Boston Journal the writer real- 
ized that the courts were worth look- 
ing after and decided to explore that 
field. The very first day he ascer- 
tained that a case had come before 
the Supreme Court upon which ac- 
tion had been taken that made it 
of great public interest. To get a 
good idea of the matter it was nec- 
essary to see the papers on file in 



the clerk's office. When Mr. Wilde 
was requested to show the papers 
lie said in the most kindly way to 
the writer. "You don't want to trou- 
ble about that. You will find it all 
in the Advertiser tomorrow." 

The information was obtained, 
however, and that innovation revolu- 
tionized the system of secrecy that 
had prevailed from time immemorial. 
Every newspaper has a corps of men 
at the court house today and every 
paper filed is made public if it has 
any news feature. Reporters do not 
even have to ask for papers as the 
clerical force in the several offices 
appreciate what the public may de- 
sire and produce documents for in- 
spection without solicitation. 

For thirty-one years Lincoln 
Flagg Brigham was upon the bench 
of the Superior Court and for much 
of that time was its chief justice. It 
would be difficult to find a man who 
in personal appearance and in every 
other respect would make so ideal a 
judge as did Chief Justice Brigham. 
In early life it was intended that he 
should have a mercantile training 
but he was permitted to follow his 
inclinations and chose the profession 
of law. It was indeed fortunate for 
the Commonwealth that the change 
was made and it was always a pleas- 
ure to be brought into contact with 
him either personally or profession- 
ally. He studied in the office of John 
If. Clifford of New Bedford, who as 
Attorney General made such a repu- 
tation in the trial of Professor Web- 
ster for the murder of George Park- 
man that the people elected him gov- 
ernor of Massachusetts. Mr. Brig- 
ham formed a partnership with Mr. 
Clifford and while in that office was 
elected District Attorney for the 
South Eastern district. 

Although not one of the greatest 
lawyers of his generation Chief Jus- 
tice Brigham possessed a good deal 
of ability and judged by the recog- 
nized standard — the test of rulings 
by decisions of the Supreme Court — 
the rank of Chief Justice Brigham 
was high. 

In discriminating between right 
and wrong the senses of Chief Jus- 
tice Brigham seemed to be acute. A 
case in point well illustrates that ele- 
ment of his nature. Several years 
ago a police officer attached to the 
Court Square station in Boston was 
detected in systematic robberies by 
which the goods of merchants had 
been stolen in the night time when 
this and another officer were on 
duty. The confederate was defaulted 
after being arraigned in the Superior 
Criminal Court and fled the country 
from which he has since been a fugi- 
tive from justice. 

The other officer, who was really 
the principal, secured the late Au- 
gustus Russ as counsel and several 
months after the indictment had 
been found retracted his plea of not 
guilty and pleaded guilty. In the 
meantime restitution had been made 
to the owners of the stolen property 
and John P. Squire, a relative of the 
officer and then in the height of his 
business prosperity, had agreed to 
take the officer into his employ at a 
good salary. 

With this condition of affairs pre- 
sented to the court Mr. Russ con- 
fidently expected that his request 
that the case be placed on file would 
be granted. But Chief Justice Brig- 
ham was upon the bench and much 
to the surprise of Mr. Russ the of- 
ficer was sentenced to state prison 
for several years. It was not so 
much as a punishment to the officer 



that the chief justice imposed so 
severe a penalty but as an example 
to others sworn to protect the prop- 
erty of citizens. Had the officer been 
a man engaged in other occupation 
the chances were that, in view of 
all the circumstances and his future 
prospects in life, the chief justice 
would have permitted the case to be 
placed on file, but he could not over- 
look the fact that the defendant had 
betrayed a public trust and had seri- 
ously menaced the well-being of so- 
ciety. The officer after serving his 
term in prison entered the employ- 
ment of Mr. Squire and died in his 

William G. Russell must be 
classed as one of the great lawyers 
•of Massachusetts and for years he 
enjoyed an extensive practice. His 
name appears upon the dockets of 
the courts in many important causes 
and whether in trying facts or argu- 
ing questions of law he had a re- 
markable success. He could have 
been chief justice of the Supreme Ju- 
dicial Court but preferred to remain 
at the bar where he was honored 
and respected by his associates. 

Thomas Russell, first in his class 
at Harvard and brother of William 
G. Russell, was a brilliant and suc- 
cessful lawyer, performing admir- 
ably everything he undertook. He 
was a good judge of the Superior 
Court and while upon the bench 
soon after the close of the war broke 
up an epidemic of garroting that ex- 
isted in Boston by sending the of- 
fenders to state prison for terms of 
twenty-five years each. He was 
minister to Venezuela under Presi- 
dent Grant and was afterwards Col- 
lector of the Port of Boston. He 
was a good advocate and an excel- 
lent speaker. His wife was the 

daughter of Father Taylor, the 
founder of the Sailor's Bethel. One 
of the daughters of Judge Russell 
married an officer of high rank in 

In 1847 i n the State Senate of 
Massachusetts Mr. Thomas G. Ca- 
rey, an eminent Boston merchant, 
deprecated some proposed Anti- 
Slavery resolutions by saying that 
they were likely to make an unfa- 
vorable impression in the South and 
be an injury to business interests. 
This led Ebenezer Rockwood Hoar 
to reply that he thought it quite as 
desirable that the legislature should 
represent the conscience as the cot- 
ton of the Commonwealth. The 
names "Cotton Whigs" and "Con- 
science Whigs" were coined in this 
debate and were frequently used in 
the exciting political days just pre- 
ceding the Civil War. 

In 1843 William Wyman, presi- 
dent of the Phoenix Bank of Charles- 
town, was tried for the embezzle- 
ment of bank funds. He was rep- 
resented by Daniel Webster, Rufus 
Choate, Franklin Dexter and Eben- 
ezer Rockwood Hoar, the latter then 
being a very young man. Ashael R. 
Huntington appeared for the gov- 
ernment and had frequent alterca- 
tions with Webster during the trial. 
The latter argued that it was un- 
likely that Wyman could have ab- 
stracted large sums from the bank 
nnd no trace of money be found in 
his possession. He was, said Web- 
ster, a man of small property, living 
simply, but having plenty without 
extravagant habits which would 
have been likely to tempt him to 
such a crime. When Huntington 
came to reply, he said: "They want 
to know what's become of the mon- 
ey. I can tell you what has become 



of the money. Five thousand dol- 
lars to one counsel, three thousand 
dollars to another, two thousand 
dollars to another," waving his hand 
in succession toward Webster, 
Choate and Dexter. Such fees, al- 
though common enough now, sound- 
ed enormous in those days. Choate 
smiled in his peculiar fashion and 
said nothing; Dexter looked up from 
a newspaper he was reading and ex- 
claimed : "This is beneath our 
notice ;" but Webster rose to his 
feet and said with great indignation : 
"Am I to sit here to hear myself 
charged with sharing the spoils with 
a thief?" The court remarked: 
"The counsel for the government 
will confine himself to the evidence," 
and the incident was closed. Web- 
ster, however, never forgave Hunt- 
ington for what he regarded as an 
insult and friends could not bring 
them together. 

In view of a constantly increasing 
number of opinions by the Supreme 
Court of the United States and also 
of Massachusetts, it may be inter- 
esting to learn that the Hon. George 
F. Hoar did not believe in dissenting 
opinions and disliked the phrase of- 
ten used, "A majority of the court is 
of opinion." Mr. Hoar claimed that 
the courts could not retain public 
confidence and respect when nearly 
all its opinions in important matters 
were accompanied by a powerful at- 
tack on the soundness of the opinion 
and the correctness of the judgment 
from the bench itself. 

ft was in the old court house on 
Court Square that Webster, Choate, 
Cushing, Sweet ser, Ranney, Gaston 
and many of the oilier prominent 
lawyers -poke, and it was there too 
thai some of the most amusing in- 
cidents recorded in the history of the 

courts happened. One of the neatest 
turns ever made in a court of law 
occurred in a case in which William 
Gaston appeared for the defence. 
Considerable evidence of a nature 
not generally recognized in a court 
of law had been put in for the 
plaintiff, vague statements, hearsay 
reports ; intangible, in no sense reli- 
able, it was largely made up of 
rumors, and in his argument Mr. 
Gaston naturally referred to this. 
He said it was not legal evidence, 
and the jury did not need to be told 
that it was not admissible and 
should not be considered by the 
panel. "Gentlemen," he said, "you 
must decide this case not upon 
what has been heard by some 
one, not upon what has been re- 
ported by someone else, not upon 
things that are intangible, not upon 
rumors and reports that are in the 
air — these things are not evidence — 
you must decide it simply, solely 
and entirely upon the legal evi- 
dence, and you must decide it upon 
nothing else." 

As Mr. Gaston resumed his seat 
everyone in the room thought he had 
won his case. It certainly did look as 
though he was on the point of one 
of his greatest triumphs. Rising 
slowly to his feet his opponent be- 
gan by referring to the closing re- 
marks of the ex-Governor: "My 
friend on the other side," he said, 
"has referred to circumstantial evi- 
dence as 'rumors and reports, as 
things that are "in the air," and be- 
cause they are in the air he says 
they are worthless, are not to be re- 
ceived in a court of justice, and are 
not to be credited by you. Circum- 
stantial evidence, Gentlemen, is fre- 
quently the very best kind of evi- 
dence we can have, and yet this is 



the very kind of evidence that my 
brother has described to you as be- 
ing 'in the air/ You could not come 
into this court room and by legal 
evidence sustain the proposition that 
William Gaston, my friend here, was 
one of the best governors this state 
ever had. As a legal proposition it 
might not be susceptible of proof, 
but Gentlemen it is a fact neverthe- 
less. It is in the air." 

The laugh that followed was so 
hearty that even the grave and dig- 
nified Gaston had to join. It was one 
of the few times that his own guns 
were successfully turned upon him. 

Nathaniel J. Bradlee, the well 
known architect, was once called to 
testify in a civil case which was 
tried in one of the Sessions of the 
Superior Court in the old courthouse. 
The young attorney who had sum- 
moned Mr. Bradlee apparently was 
not over well posted on the "Who's 
Who"of the Boston of that day, and 
when the architect took the stand 
the examination began in this way. 

"Mr. Bradlee, what is your occu- 

"I am an architect, and a trustee." 

"Oh, you are a trustee, are you?" 

"I am." 

"Well, now Mr. Bradlee, what are 
you trustee of?" 

"Real estate." 

"What is the value of the real 
estate of which you are trustee?" 

"I don't know." 

"Ought to have some idea of its 
value had you not?" 

"I don't think I've reckoned it up." 

"Not so large you couldn't reckon 
it up." 

"O no!" 

"Is it five thousand dollars?" 

"I guess it is." 

"Well, is it ten thousand dollars?" 



"All of that." 

"Thirty thousand dollars?" 

"I presume it is." 

"Forty thousand dollars?" 


"One hundred thousand dollars ?" 

"More than that." 

By that time the young attorney 
began to realize that he had caught 
a Tartar, and as he stopped to catch 
his breath and look around, he found 
every face in the room wreathed in 
smiles. The judge, the court officers, 
the clerk, the lawyers and spectators 
as well as the jurors were quick to 
size up the situation, a good deal 
quicker than the lawyer was, and 
when he saw how much behind the 
game he was and learned that Mr. 
Bradlee as trustee represented mil- 
lions on millions of dollars, indeed at 
that time was the largest trustee in 
Boston, the examination begun with 
so much confidence was cut short, 
the witness was allowed to depart, 
and the young lawyer learned a les- 
son he probably never afterwards 

In former days when the courts 
were in the old court house, Captain 
James Goodwin, a retired shipmas- 
ter^ gentleman of the old school 
and a most excellent officer, served 
as crier in the Supreme Court. While 
the bitterly contested Ely case was 
on trial and the Ely brothers sat at 
either end of the long table inside 
the bar one morning waiting for the 
court to come in, Captain Goodwin 
was explaining to a few friends the 
method of taking observations on 
board of the old packet ships which 
were the pride of our commercial 
marine in the days when the gallant 



captain '"sailed the seas over." In 
taking those observations Captain 
Goodwin said the master of the ves- 
sel and the first and second officers 
stood on deck. When everything 
was ready the captain shouted 
"Time" and the observations were 
taken simultaneously. Just as Cap- 
tain Goodwin had reached this point 
in his recital, Judge Morton entered 
the court room, ascended the steps 

leading to the bench, paused for the 
crier to open court, and was not a 
little surprised to hear Captain 
Goodwin roar out "Time!" The 
laughableness of the situation was 
increased by the fact that it oc- 
curred at the time when the redoubt- 
able John L. Sullivan was in his 
glory as a fighter and the shout of 
the court officer was at least sug- 
gestive of the call of the prize ring. 

The Spinfter 

By Frances Weld Danielson 

In girlhood's days she spins, her young heart light, 
The flax threads twisted gold, in her glad sight; 
For love looks from her eyes, makes her face fair, 
Easy the spinster's task when love is there, 
Happy the heart which love's first joy doth feel; 
While throbbingly and gayly hums the wheel. 

A wife, she spins, a thread full soft and fine, 
That shines pure white, tinged with a light divine. 
While fash'ning tiny caps and wee, small things, 
Her task seems brooded o'er by angels' wings. 
More fitting would it be for her to kneel, 
As hushed and sweetly tender hums the wheel. 

She spins again, quietly the distaff takes, 

Her eyes are calm, her heart with anguish aches. 

A soldier's mother brave and true must be, 

But look! the thread is dyed blood red — "Ah me!" 

She sighs, while down her cheeks the slow tears steal, 

And sternly, bravely, sadly hums the wheel. 

Once more she spins, but slowly and more slow. 
A thread of gray it is runs to and fro. 
Peace rests upon her brow, though lined with care, 
Peace forms a halo round her snow-white hair. 
The years, the kindly years, all griefs will heal, 
So tremulously and gently hums the wheel. 

A Stern Chase 

By Thomas J. Partridge 

THE Gloucester mackerel fleet 
had weathered the two days' 
gale in the harbor of George- 
town, Prince Edward Island. At the 
first glimpse of fair weather every 
vessel made sail, and away we 
went, streaming down the coast, the 
sunlight shimmering on the sails. 

We were in high spirits; all our 
salt was wet, every barrel was full, 
excepting some dozen standing 
about the decks, and the word was : 
"Homeward bound." The Skipper 
went below, brought up the flag, 
bent it to the halyards, hoisted it 
aloft, hauled it out to the peak, and 
"Old Glory" began rippling the 
news out to the rest of the fleet. We 
were well in under the land, in a 
light wind and the vessels outside, 
one after another, rapidly passed us. 
Suddenly some one cried out: 
"School O!" There, right ahead 
was the dark and fretted circle on 
the calm and level ocean. 

It was before the treaty; we were 
within the three mile limit, and for 
an American fisherman to be caught 
taking fish within that proscribed 
line meant seizure of the vessel/and 
confiscation of her cargo and outfit. 

An older man would have turned 
his back on the temptation, but the 
prospects of arriving home and hav- 
ing it noised about the wharves that 
Sid Gardner, old Sid's son, had come 
in with his scuppers awash, even 
the water and pork barrels full, was 
too much for our young Skipper. He 
looked at the few empty barrels on 

deck, hung for a moment between 
two minds and then called out im- 
pulsively: "Let your jibs run — fore- 
sheet — hard down your wheel !" As 
we rounded to, the Skipper threw 
bait into the school, and in a moment 
the rails were manned and we began 
to pick up a fish now and then. 

The "Nellie M. Brent" ran down 
on our quarter and her Captain 
hailed : "That's pretty risky business 
Gardner; you're well in; Fox was 
in Charlottetown yesterday." 

Fox was the Captain of the Cana- 
dian Cutter "Sweepstakes," patrol- 
ling the coast. He was an indivi- 
dual. When anyone said "Fox," it 
seemed to include himself, his ves- 
sel, his crew and the whole Canadian 
government. In 1776, his horse-rac- 
ing Virginian ancestors picked the 
wrong George. There was some of 
the old venom left, in the veins of 
this "Blue-Nose" descendant, and it 
was generally understood that when 
Fox found himself towing a Yankee 
fisherman into port with the King's 
broad arrow nailed to her mainmast 
he was in his element. 

As I said, we began to pick up a 
fish now and then. It was a small 
pod we had run into, and it soon 
became evident that the result would 
not pay us for the trouble of hoist- 
ing our sails. Twice I saw the Skip- 
per slowly coil in his line and I'm 
sure the command to haul in and 
make sail was on his lips, and twice 
he drove his jig back into the sea. 
Suddenly, every line straightened 




out from the rail. Our bait had 
reached bottom and brought up a 
big, hungry school. We shortened 
up our Hues and went at it and in no 
time the do/en strike barrels were 
brim full and running over and the 
mackerel went flipping and trim- 
ming over the planks. 

"'Strike them on deck, now, boys!" 
cried the Skipper. "We'll run into 
Canso and get barrels and salt!" 

In the excitement of fishing — the 
breach of the law, the risk we ran 
if detected — everything was forgot- 
ten, and slowly but surely the living 
fish began piling up above the dead. 

"Look at the 'Brent'!" cried some 
one. The "Brent" was behaving in 
a strange manner. From being 
close-hauled and about to follow the 
rest of the fleet around East Point, 
the eastermost end of Prince Ed- 
ward Island, she was rapidly paying 
off and her flag was going aloft. 

"She's signalling!" I said to the 
Skipper, in the berth next to him. 

The "Brent" wore ship. The next 
moment the flag appeared on her 
starboard side going frantically up 
and down the rigging. Things did 
look a bit suspicious. 

"Hoist your jib — haul aft the fore- 
sheet — throw that wheel up!" The 
commands were scarcely out of the 
Skipper's mouth when we saw the 
"Sweepstakes" slipping from behind 
the low-lying "Point," a bone in her 
teeth, every sail drawing, running 

There was nothing in the fleet that 
could touch us that season, but after 
our long trip we were foul. Every- 
one knew the sailing qualities of the 
"Sweepstakes," — she was built to 
overhaul anything in the bay. We 
determined to make a fight for it, 
however, and everything was crowd- 

ed on — topsail, flying jib and stay- 
sail and we began to wet down the 
lower sails. Overboard went the 
mackerel, the fish we had jeopar- 
dized our summer's work for^ and 
every vestige of our transgression 
was hastily washed from the decks. 
Alas ! one of the crew in his nervous 
haste allowed a barrel half full of 
the fish to slip from his grasp before 
it was emptied, and the damning evi- 
dence floated away. We dare not 
stop to pick it up. 

Every Skipper on the grounds 
had some boy left in him and with a 
desire to see the fun the fleet came 
out from behind the "Point" and 
ran broad off". 

Before the "Sweepstakes" could 
haul up, she must run a full half 
mile to leeward, in order to clear 
the shoal that ran out from the 
"Point." This gave us a good start, 
but luck seemed against us. The 
wind followed the Cutter up the 
coast while we ran into a flat calm. 
Running into the light wind, the im- 
patient Fox lowered his boat. Paus- 
ing long enough to pick up the tell- 
tale barrel bobbing in our wake, he 
pulled straight for us. 

"D'ye know the way old Jim Bat- 
tillo received one of them fellers?" 
said an old fisherman, suggestively. 
"Thinking it was pork they were af- 
ter, he hung a barrel of it over the 
rail, and I'm blamed if the topun- 
lifts didn't part just as he came up 
and the pork went plum through the 
bottom of their boat." 

' 'E won't take un my share out 
tin that hold !" said a massive New- 
foundlander. He picked up the 
pump handle. The crew came 
crowding aft on the quarter with 
anything they could pick up in the 
way of a weapon. It was clear, it 


21 I 

needed but a nod from the Skipper 
and there would be bloodshed. The 
boat had covered half the distance 
between the two vessels, when, all 
unlooked for, a puff of wind came 
along and drove us ahead. 

"Raise your sheets — keep off at 
your peril !" yelled Fox, standing up 
in his boat. "In the name of Her 
Majesty's Government — surrender !" 

For answer, the gallant Fox re- 
ceived a Cambronne-like reply, the 
mainsheet ran off to the knot and 
away we went for the fleet bunched 
to leeward. 

Boom ! — the Cutter fired her can- 
non — it was a blank. The next was 
a ball, meant to go across our bows, 
it passed between the leach of the 
foresail and the mainmast, knocking 
a chip out of one of the hoops. The 
wind freshened, the old boat seemed 
to realize what was required of her 
and down we raced through the fleet, 
the crews cheering us as we passed 
them. For more than an hour we 
tacked and filled away to leeward 
keeping the fleet between us and 
our enemy. These tactics would 
have continued until nightfall, under 
whose friendly cloak we would have 
escaped, but a black, crescent-shap- 
ed cloud began to gather in the east- 
ern sky. In summer, such a thing 
may vanish in sunshine — it may de- 
velop into a howling gale. This one 
was loaded. 

The fleet, alarmed for their own 
safety began to scatter. This uncov- 
ered us, there was nothing to do 
now but to run for it. A chill in the 
air, a black streak on the ocean 
swiftly prolonging itself, driving be- 
fore it the flying spray, and the 
squall was upon us. We calculated 
the force of the blow and met it with 
everything standing. Over we went 

— over till we wet the third reef- 
points and the sea was surging up 
to the hatches. In the meantime, the 
Cutter, off our port quarter, was up 
in the eye of the wind, her sails 
slatting and banging. It did seem 
every instant as if the groaning 
spars must go by the board, but 
she shook herself clear of the 
smother at last and leaped forward. 

Both vessels got away together, 
but we now had the advantage. We 
were loaded to the hatches and, al- 
though the Cutter was well-ballast- 
ed, she was comparatively cork- 
light, hence, the harder it blew the 
better our chances of escape became. 
For the first five miles it was nip and 
tuck, we doing everything in our 
power to get out of the old boat all 
the speed there was in her, the Cut- 
ter with tons of water pouring over 
her rail, hanging on to our quarter 
like a hound on the flank of a stag. 
Twice she fired her cannon, but her 
gunnery was wretched and wide, 
and seeing the futility of such tac- 
tics, Fox gave over his efforts to 
wing us and it settled down to a 
dead race for the black land far 

A glance at the chart will show 
you that the field before us was 
shaped exactly like a funnel ; its 
sides, the highland of Nova Scotia 
on our right, the dome-like hills of 
Cape Breton on our left ; its outlet, 
the Strait of Canso, a narrow pass- 
age of water separating the places 
above named. The southern end of 
the Strait opens into the wide At- 
lantic. We must leave one harbor, 
Port Hood, on our left. It is made 
by a small island set in the bend of 
the coast. Behind the Island is a 
sheltered bay. There is, in conse- 
quence, a northwest and a southeast 



entrance. The northwest entrance 
is at all times navigable, but the 
southeast one has a treacherous, 
shifting bar and. after a heavy gale 
of wind, such as we had recently ex- 
perienced, frequently breaks clear 

Onr crew were a mixed lot; the 
majority being' fairly divided be- 
tween the sons of the pioneers who 
went with Roger Conant from Sa- 
lem to erect fish-stages on Cape 
Ann. ami the descendants of those 
people who were convoyed by the 
British tleet to Halifax when Wash- 
ington crowded all the "Gentlemen" 
out of Boston, the Newfoundlander 
mentioned above, a Frenchman 
whose forbears followed La Salle 
into the Canadian wilds and one lit- 
tle Cape Breton Scotchman, native 
of the harbor on our left. 

I had the wheel. If I do say it, 
I was the best steersman on board. 
I came honestly by it. When the 
Rebel Privateer, Tacony, swept ev- 
erything from Mt. Desert to Minot's 
out of a fleet of seven vessels my 
father's was the only one that es- 
caped — due to trimming and clever 
handling, the crew all said, when 
they stood on the wharf. But that's 
neither here nor there. 

By this, although we were drop- 
ping the Cutter astern, she was eat- 
ing well to windward and carrying 
her muslin, despite the half gale that 
was blowing, in a style that drew ad- 
miring comments from every one of 
us, while we, in our anxiety to give 
her a good full found ourselves well 
down on the lee coast. Tt soon be- 
came evident that we must make 
one short leg before we could fetch 
past the headland, thai now hid the 
mouth of the Strait. In this event 
it was clear that box would be with 

us at the line. Caught under the 
sheltering Highlands there (their re- 
semblance to the Hudson at West 
Point, by the way, is remarkable), 
the Cutter, re-enforced by the Cus- 
tom House officer, would have us at 
her mercy. 

As we came abreast of Port Hood, 
the Skipper who had been talking 
earnestly with the little Scotchman, 
came aft and said : "Ned, you'll take 
the word from Donald ; we're going 
through Port Hood !" , 

I stared into the Skipper's face. 
"The southeast entrance !" I gasped 
— "after such a gale?" 

"The southeast entrance, Ned." 
He pointed to the light breaking 
from behind the windward clouds : 
"He'll catch us in the Strait — -Don- 
ald says he can carry us through — 
swing her off!" He uncoiled a rope 
he held in his hand and lashed me 
to the wheel. 

Slowly I put the wheel down ; the 
crew began to give her sheet and 
the vessel, catching the full strength 
of the gale and the impulse of the 
heavy swell rolling in on the land, 
began to fairly fly for the dome-like 
hills to leeward. The moment the 
Cutter caught sight of our move- 
ment she swung off in a great burst 
of speed, the spray and foam churn- 
ing over her knight-heads. 

This is what we hoped to gain by 
this bit of strategy. If Fox was 
dare-devil enough to follow us 
through the entrance the chances 
were fair, lacking a native pilot, he 
would meet with disaster. If he 
balked at the bar, before he could 
beat out of the bend of the coast 
and lay his course for the mouth of 
the Strait we would be across the 
harbor, through the northwest en- 
trance and away. Once on the 



broad Atlantic, the men who would 
board the "Crest of the Wave" and 
take our summer's work out of her 
hold would have something to tell 
to their children. 

Driving on at such a rate, it was 
no time before we raised the Light- 
house, tall and white ; then out of 
the distance came the spires of the 
village, the trees, the meadows — and 
now as we opened up the entrance 
we were horrified to see that the 
harbor's mouth was barred by a long 
line of tumbling surf. 

"The bar has shifted !" Someone 
said it. They might have saved their 

Two breakers, one from the main 
land, the other from the island op- 
posite, broke, wool-white, and raced 
for each other, the blue water be- 
tween them ever narrowing until 
they met and went up in the air like 
the explosion of a submarine mine. 

It was too late to turn back. The 
vessel, now fairly caught in the long, 
ground swell began to yaw fearfully, 
her mainboom slicing deeply into 
the crest of every wave as she rolled 
down. To haul her to in such a sea, 
under such a weight of canvas 
would trip her up and we would be 
upon our beam ends before you 
could whistle. But one thing was 
left us, on one thread hung our 
lives — the clear eye and swift judg- 
ment of the little Scotchman, who 
was now perched in the fore rigging 
every eye fastened upon him, a very 
dial of fate. 

"We must get — McDougall's barn 
— and the lighthouse — in one — be- 
fore we dare — haul her to !" were 
the words the wind tried to drive 
back into his throat. I could see 
what that meant. The last inch of 
mainsheet was now on the bitt. If 

the mainsail came over in that wind 
and sea it would rip the spars out of 
her as if they were pipestems and 
we would be tossed a dismantled 
wreck on the rocks. 

Could we bring the barn and the 
lighthouse together before we jibed 
the mainsail was the question that 
agitated me as I watched the space 
lessening between the points indi- 

By this, we were fairly kiting, and 
to add to our danger, squall after 
squall, so common in these parts, 
broke upon us. One caught the half 
clewed up topsail and tore it from 
the bolt-ropes and in a moment it 
was streaming in ribbons, it and the 
old flag, standing out stiff as a board 
pointing out the way to our salva- 
tion or doom. 

Once she yawed to fearfully, like 
a runaway horse that is trying to 
shake the bit from his mouth, and 
as the sea slipped away from under 
her quarter and her stern plunged 
down there was a spiteful kick of 
the rudder-head that sounded ugly. 

"Steady, old girl," I said, making 
believe she was alive. "You would- 
n't play us any dirty trick in a pass 
like this would you?" 

The vessel, gathering way every 
moment, was now driving down on 
the land with terrific speed, every 
successive sea in that awful ground 
swell was longer and higher and 
faster ; every green comber that 
rolled up astern, exploded and then 
fell short, seemed the one that would 
board us, and every black chasm 
in which she buried her bows till 
her hawse-pipes were cataracts, 
seemed the gulf from which she 
would never emerge. 

So, racing like mad, we drove into 
the entrance, a long, jagged reef on 

2I 4 


our right over which the sea was 
piling in tumult nous fury, on our 
left, the rod base of the cliff, now 
bared and distinct, now covered 
with blankets of foam, straight 
ahead, the bar. ever and anon un- 
sheathing itself like a great white 
sword across our path. 

"Starboard!" came the call. With 
a glance at the rippling foot of the 
mainsail and one at the Skipper that 
said: "You've got eyes!" I grimly 

"Starboard — starboard !" again 

came the order. Gingerly, as if I 
was walking on eggs, like a man that 
is staking the last dollar left of a 
million, I gave her one more spoke. 
The foresail came over with a vic- 
ious jerk that made the vessel trem- 
ble and set the rigging vibrating. 
We were now flying wing and wing. 

"Starboard - starboard - STAR- 
BOARD," yelled Donald. I looked 
aloft. The luff of the mainsail was 
lifting. If the boom came over it 
would come with the force of an 
avalanche. We had dropped the 
peak, of course, the moment we 
swung her off and the boom was 
now sagging heavily. I could see 
that it would barely clear the rail; 
that it would sweep away the boat 
and the davits as a sickle sweeps 
away grass and I would be crushed, 
for. lashed to the wheel as I was, I 
could not escape. I faltered. 

MAX !" roared the Skipper. 

In iIk- fare of death X obeyed. The 
vessel swung her nose off like a sen- 
tienl thing in scared) of that gap 
in the bar thai would be our salva- 
tion. The mainsail lifted, then 
flapped with the report of a pistol, 
the sheet doubled up, the boom be- 
gan to dance and come in over the 

rail. I shut my eyes. Then to the 
deep relief of all came the welcome 
cry : "Meet her — meet her — 'hard 
down your wheel !" 

McDougall's barn and the light- 
house were in one ! Up to this, that 
is, from the time we swung her off, 
I was scared to my finger tips. My 
heart was pumping a thousand 
frightened thoughts into my head; 
what they would say of it at home, 
the list of the crew in the papers, the 
awful race on the crest of one of 
those combers ahead, my bloody fin- 
gers holding fast to a boulder as the 
undertow tried to break my hold, 
then how it felt to have one's head 
smashed to a pulp on the hard rocks ; 
but now, right in the very jaws of 
death — I swear I could have thread- 
ed a needle. 

What passed, passed quicker than 
I can tell it. Three waves came on 
in swift succession. The first one 
rolled up and slipped away past our 
sheer, a long, majestic, undulation, 
running level with our scuppers. 
The next one was higher — it curled 
over our rail and flecked the decks 
with a thousands eyes of foam. The 
third wave came on with a roar. 

"Make yourselves scarce !" yelled 
the Skipper. He leaped straight 
down the after companion way and 
drew the slide. 

"Put her over, bully boy, Ned!" 
came the cries of encouragement 
from the crew as they scattered like 
a bevy of quail, those who had faith 
in the outcome diving into the fore- 
castle. The non-believers leaped for 
the rigging. The port breaker struck 
us obliquely and went smashing 
across the decks, carrying away our 
lee bulwarks as if they were so much 
tinder. The starboard sea piled in 
over the stern, tore the boat from 



the davits, swept with mad force the 
whole length of the deck, lifted our 
starboard cable bodily and turned it 
over (our port one was chain) and 
poured like a cataract over the bow. 
I remember the thunderous roar of 
the waters as they swept past and 
over me, the sharp wheel spokes 
against my chest as I was pressed 
down upon them, the fruitless ef- 
forts to kick myself clear from the 
lashings and reach the top of that 
wave — where the air was, the sand 
in my mouth and eyes, the earth- 
quake sensation as she struck, the 
skipper's last call in my ears : "Don't 
let her broach to when she crosses 
the bar!"; a nightmare-like effort to 
jam the wheel hard up, and then 
my senses left me. 

When I came to they were rolling 

me on a barrel, the sunlight was 
dancing on decks covered inch-deep 
with sand, we were racing across the 
placid harbor, past the old wharves 
and the moored fishing smacks, 
headed for the southeast entrance. 

The Cutter hauled to in the grim 
face of things. The pace we cut was 
too stiff even for Fox, dare-devil 
that he was. They saw him rolling 
outside in the trough of the sea, his 
topmast that he had carried away, 
punching a hole in his mainsail ev- 
ery time he rolled down. 

In two hours we were in the 
Straits of Canso, the wind behind 
us, a fair five knot tide under our 

At sunset we were on the wide 
Atlantic, footing it for home, the 
Flag still at our peak. 

Luna, the Sorceress 

By Stacy E. Baker 

The thaumaturgy of a moon-thralled night ! 
Luna, the sorceress; her subtle wand, 
Wins poesy from Frere Dusk's ebon hand; 

Bathes fields a-gloom, and dales, in mellow light, 

And binds the breeze, upon its wayward flight, 

To sing in numbers poets understand 

No dreary cadence for a gnome-won land, 

With fen and forest fastness moon-bedight ! 

The magic of it ! in a circled spot, 
Mab, and her fairies, are a-rioting, 

Dew-jewels thick upon each precious head; 
The shadows move from wooded plot to plot, 
Like wistful ghosts who wander, sorrowing, 
Up from the hazy Lowlands of the Dead. 



Founded 1758 

Published monthly at 
Dix Place, Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 

Editor, Winthrop Packard. 


United States, Canada and Mexico 

$3.00 per year 
Foreign Countries . . . $3-75 per year 

Remit by draft on Boston, Express or 
Post Office Order, payable to 

New England Magazine. 

OTUDENTS in Social Economics 
^ are more and more inquiring 
the nature of the elements which 
make up the cosmopolitan charac- 
ter of the American people. The 
problem has become complex and 
difficult. Tn the early days the Pil- 
grim and the Puritan of New Eng- 
land, the Dutch of New Amsterdam 
and the Cavalier of Virginia were 
all the important elements that were 
to be blended if the people of the 
new nation were to be homoge- 
neous, but to-day almost every na- 
tion under heaven is contributing 
something to the mass of immigra- 
tion, and each sends something 
peculiar to itself which demands in- 
corporation into the body politic 
and assimilation into what we desig- 
nate as the social and economic 
unity of the one people. Great 

Britain and Germany sent their 
contributions quite early and the 
character and possibilities of these 
are now well comprehended. Only 
within the last quarter of the last 
century was begun the addition, in 
effective numbers, of the Latin 
races, and only within a shorter 
period has Italy's countribution at- 
tained such proportions as to intro- 
duce another considerable factor in- 
to the problem. 

By the census of 1890 this coun- 
try had only 182,580 Italian resi- 
dents. Perhaps three times as many 
had arrived but the larger propor- 
tion made but a temporary stay. 
This is a peculiar feature of the 
Italian immigration and complicates 
in some degree the study of the 
problem of permanent assimilation. 
It is probable, however, that of the 
arrivals since 1890 a larger propor- 
tion come as permanent residents, 
and it is also probable that this pro- 
portion will be increased in the fu- 

During the census period between 
1890 and up to 1900, Dr. J. H. Sen- 
ner, formerly United States Com- 
missioner of Immigration, reports 
the total arrivals at 555,753 and the 
census of 1900 reports 484,703 Ital- 
ian residents. From and including 
1900 to and including 1904, Dr. Sen- 
ner reports 838,424 additional ar- 
rivals. These figures suggest that 
the Italian contributions to the pop- 
ulation of this country is as yet 
hardly more than one per cent, of 
the whole, and if it were uniformly 
distributed would not seriously em- 
barrass the problem of racial assim- 
ilation which is the problem of the 

Of the 484,207 people born in 
Italy, in the United States, by the 



census of 1900, 72.7 per cent, were 
in New England, New York, New 
Jersey and Pennsylvania, 11.3 per 
cent, were in theNorth Central Divi- 
sion, 8.3 per cent, were in the West- 
ern Division, 5.3 per cent, were in 
the South Central Division and only 
2.1 per cent, were in the South 
Atlantic Division. The immediate 
problem is therefore most pertinent 
and practical in the North Atlantic 
Division. The census shows a 
marked tendency of the Italians to 
settle in the cities. Over one-half 
the whole number recorded were in 
ten cities, as follows : 

New York 






New Orleans 



New Haven 











No other city has as many as 
5,000 Italian residents. 

In the total of Italian immigration 
it is estimated that the proportion 
of males to females is at least four 
to one, but in the last decade the 
equalization has advanced, indicat- 
ing that a larger proportion of the 
immigrants come as permanent res- 
idents. A notable feature brought 
out by the statistics is that of the 
Italians arriving here in 1903, about 
85 per cent, were between the ages 
of fourteen and forty-five years; 
this shows a large proportion of 
people who are of the productive 
rather of the dependent class. In 
the estimate of Frederick Knapp, 
New York Commissioner of Immi- 
gration for 1870, the economic value 
of male immigrants over twenty 
years of age was $1125. Accepting 

this the 197,267 able-bodied Italians 
coming here in 1903 added an eco- 
nomic value to the country of about 

The quality of these immigrants 
is shown by a statement quoted 
from Adolpho Rossi, Supervisor of 
the Italian Emigration Department, 
that emigration is taking from Italy 
the flower of the laboring class, who 
leave home not merely to seek a 
living but to secure greater advan- 
tages. They are not dependent, but 
are producers. He says every Ital- 
ian costs his country $1,000 to bring 
up ; by his emigration his country 
loses this investment; "we spend 
a thousand dollars to bring up and 
develop a young man, and you reap 
the profit of the investment." 

Investigators admit the exist- 
ence of a prejudice against immi- 
grants from Mediterranean ports, the 
ground being, as stated in a Con- 
gressional speech by Hon. Samuel 
W. McCall of Massachusetts, that 
the exclusion of immigrants through 
a test of illiteracy was desirable on 
the ground that the influx from 
those ports was "from races not 
suited to our civilization, because 
radically different from us in edu- 
cation, habits of life, and institu- 
tions of government" and this class 
did not go "to our unoccupied terri- 
tory, but settled down in our large 
cities, in our congested districts. 
They add to the labor problems that 
are vexing them, and most of them 
go into the dangerous slums of our 
eastern cities." 

Emil Rich, in a recent article on 
"The Future of the Latin Races," 
in the Contemporary Review says 
of the Italians — "There can be little 
doubt that they are the most gifted 
nation in Europe. What character- 



i/.es them above all is their iniative. 
It is the first stop which is the hard- 
est to take, but it is the Italians 
who have been ready to take the 
first step in action, and able to take 
the first step in the new paths of 
science . . . we cannot help be- 
ing impressed by their extraordinary 
mental activity and by the diversity 
of their attainments, which is al- 
most incredible." 

The causes of Italian emigration 
are numerous and variously stated. 
About the close of our Civil Waq 
Howells wrote : "It is difficult to 
tempt from home any of the home- 
keeping Italian race." There was 
a widely disseminated prejudice 
against emigration as unpatriotic;, 
every Italian who left his country 
was esteemed a traitor. But the 
unification of Italy had the curious 
result of a more vivid comprehen- 
sion of the widespread opportunities 
open to emigrants through the 
awakening of animation and intelli- 
gence, and hope of deliverance from 
discord and oppression. The under- 
lying cause was the pressure of pop- 
ulation nearly doubled between the 
beginning of the eighteenth cen- 
tury and the birth of United Italy, 
in [881 the population was 257 to 
the square mile; twenty years later 
it had risen to 294, and there was 
no industrial development to com- 
pensate. Land monopoly among 
aristocratic proprietors, and burden- 
some taxation upon the agricul- 
tural classes, monopolies in milling. 
salt, tobacco, and heavy duties on 
food -luffs, are among the contrib- 
uting causes to the emigration 

Since the unification of Italy the 

rnmenl has been making earn- 

i flforts to improve the situation 

of the common people, but adequate 
relief has not yet been effected. 
The military establishment, and the 
large expenditures for internal im- 
provements which over-ran imme- 
diate needs, were large factors in 
the demand for heavy taxation. In 
spite of these inciting causes to 
emigration it is noted that within a 
few years a marked diminution is 
noted besides an unprecedented re- 
turn of emigrants to their native 

Since 1888, the beginning of any 
considerable emigration to this 
country, the matter has been under 
governmental control. Emigration 
is held to be free, subject only to 
military restrictions and the restric- 
tive laws of foreign countries. No 
one can lawfully collect emigrants 
or distribute tickets, or assist in any 
way unless formally commissioned 
for the purpose, or duly licensed. 
No male is permitted to leave un- 
less twenty-one years of age, in pos- 
session of his civil rights, not under 
surveillance in the interest of public 
safety, nor condemned for crime. 
The government has also been care- 
ful to collect and publish such facts 
pertaining to conditions in foreign 
countries as would be of interest or 
value to prospective emigrants. The 
government studiously opposes any 
project for inducing emigration to 
points where Italians are to be used 
to depress the price of local labor. 

The causes for the usual settle- 
ment of the emigrants in or near 
sea-board cities of the United States 
are • soon stated. Employment is 
more readily secured; the emigrant 
has but moderate means and cannot 
speak the language; he takes the 
first work at hand, especially if he 
can be among his own people. They 




are classed as "unskilled" although 
most of them have had some experi- 
ence in gardening, farming and 
home industries. Few of them are 
trained to the subdivision of labor 
and single specified employment. In 
the returns for the year ending June 
30, 1903, there were reported 785 
Italian immigrants of professional 
occupations and 31,661 who had defi- 
nite trades. By the census of 1900, 
the nationalities showing the larg- 
est percentage of unskilled labor 
among immigrants of the year the 
figures were: Italy 34.15, Hungary 
32.44; Ireland 25.16, and French 
.Canada 16.43. 

At present the Italian emigrant 
is content to accept the occupation 
first offered, until he can gain a 
foothold in the country, but his 
children will be sure to advance, 
even if he does not. The Italian is 
sensitive to ridicule and feels the in- 
justice of abuse whether he resents 
it or not; hence he is slow to ven- 
ture alone in a strange community, 
or to seek employment where he is 
ignorant of the language, ways and 
requirements of a new environ- 
ment. In the cities for a time they 
were the rag pickers and refuse 
sorters, but they soon advanced to 
fruit peddling and the keeping of 
permanent stands. Boot-blacks, bar- 
bers and tailors are numerous. Nat- 
urally they herd together, and their 
colonies give them the social life 
they so much enjoy. 

Like all indigent newcomers, the 
Italians at first over-crowd their 
habitations, but as their conditions 
improve they are quick to seek im- 
provement, and they spread into the 
outlying wards, and into the subur- 
ban towns where a bit of garden is 
a strong attraction. They are de- 

sirable tenants as is shown by the 
steady advance of values of tene- 
ment property wherever Italian col- 
onies are located, and the Italian, 
as soon as he becomes "forehanded" 
invest in real estate and becomes 
a landlord to his countrymen. One 
who speaks with authority says the 
Italians in New York City have over 
$15,000,000 on deposit in savings 
banks, and they hold over $20,000,- 
000 of real estate. He finds also over 
$15,000,000 invested as capital in 
business enterprises. He also states 
that this record is relatively below 
that of his countrymen in St. Louis, 
San Francisco, Boston and Chicago. 
New York has its Italian Cham- 
ber of Commerce, with over two 
hundred members; it has 115 regis- 
tered physicians, 63 pharmacists, 21 
lawyers, 15 public school teachers, 
nine architects, four dentists, and 
numerous others in various profes- 
sions. There are also over three 
hundred "banks" so called, most of 
them only remitting and transporta- 
tion agencies. There are also six- 
teen weekly newspapers in the city. 
The Columbus Hospital, founded 
and maintained by Italians is a val- 
uable and flourishing institution. 
The Italian Benevolent Institute is 
also a general bureau of charity of 
considerable importance, and there 
are over 150 Italian Societies for 
mutual aid. Similar organizations 
are duplicated in every city where 
Italians are gathered in any consid- 
erable numbers. Reports from num- 
erous cities are given, all testifying 
to the capacity and thrift of the Ital- 
ian residents. 

It is clear from the statistics and 
observations presented that the Ital- 
ian immigrant to this country can 
make his way against competition 



and adverse influences. He is indus- 
trious, economical and saving-, and 
honors bis condition quite as rapid- 
ly as do others of his class, of other 
nationalities. Laws controlling im- 
migration and emigration, and in 
suppression of the "padrone" sys- 
tem have helped him to secure a 
standing here, and he has proved 
himself quite the equal of others in 
his aspirations and progress toward 
full citizenship. Next to the oppor- 
tunities for employment in and near 
the sea-board cities, the unskilled 
Italians found attractions in the va- 
rious mining fields, and as they have 
acquired some knowledge of the 
language they have scattered among 
the farms of the great west and 
south and the mechanical shops of 
the inland cities, thus broadening 
their field of opportunity, and more 
and more assimilating with the 
mass of the general wage-earning 

The Italian has thus proved his 
capacity and adaptability, even un- 
der adverse conditions ; many of 
these have already been overcome 
in large measure, and he is being 

more generally welcomed. That he 
is liable to crowd out the native 
population, or the earlier immigrant, 
is not to be feared. Statistics show 
that in the southern states not one- 
third of the available land is yet oc- 
cupied, and this is not under such 
occupation as results in its best 
productiveness. The introduction of 
Italian settlement, it is pointed out, 
will hasten the day when diversified 
farming will take a share with cot- 
ton in the cotton states, to the eco- 
nomic advantage of the country, 
with a marked decrease in total 
number of immigrants to this coun- 
try which is recorded within the last 
few years, and the persistent stim- 
ulus to all industrial pursuits inci- 
dent to the rapid progress and de- 
velopment of the country, there is 
abundant room for the Italian. Un- 
der fair treatment and with equal 
opportunity, he has proved himself 
worthy of a place in cosmopolite 
America, and his several character- 
istics offer an element which may be 
made of great value in the develop- 
ment of the American race of the 
near future. 

Tickle-Town Topics 

Mr. Tupper's Trousers 

By Nixon Waterman 

It was Pumpkinville's big picnic; Tupper had no 

Good enough for the occasion, did not have a chance 
To go after any other till the night before ; 
Too rushed then to have them fitted at the clothing 

Hurried home and in the evening tried them on and 

That unless the legs were shortened they would sweep 

the ground. 
Mrs. Tupper didn't like them. Told him, "I declare 
I shan't fix them." Tupper left them hanging on a 




T tipper's daughter, Angelina, thought that her mama 
Was quite cruel. She would shorten trousers for papa! 
Waited till the folks were sleeping, did the task and 

Hung the trousers as she found them on the chair 

Tupper's maiden sister, Martha, to herself she said, 
"Brother is too good a husband for the wife he wed, 
I will fix his trousers for him !" Rose up in the night, 
Shortened them until she fancied she had made them 

*fe -'U 

iA. '«»'„,«! 

Well toward morning Mrs. Tupper, thinking matters 


Rose and shortened Tupper's trousers quite a good 

deal more. 
Didn't say a word to Tupper, though it would be wise 
Just to let the change confront him as a glad surprise. 



In the morning Mr. Tupper, choring to and fro, 
Kept at work till, ere he knew it, it was time to go! 
Fairly jumped into his clothing, and in leaps and 

Caught the train that was to take them to the picnic 


Folks all shrieked at Tupper's stockings, striped in 

varied hues, 
Blazing like two barbers' sign-posts, up above his 


Every one enjoyed the picnic — all but Tupper; he, 
In his little, sawed-off trousers, stood behind a tree. 

Harvest Time 

By Clara H. Dodge 

You may talk about the beauty 

Of the Summer and the Spring, 
Of singing birds and fragrant flowers, 

And all that sort of thing; 
But the lazy, hazy harvest time, 

Is good enough for me, 
With daubs of scarlet coloring, 

On every bush and tree. 

Oh ! the lazy, hazy, harvest time, 

With plenty everywhere, 
With scent of spicy apples, 

A-floating in the air ; 
With yellow pumpkins in the fields, 

And sound of humming bee, 
Oh ! the lazy, hazy harvest time, 

Is good enough for me. 


By Thomas J. Partridge 

The sun comes up ; and I doubt if e'er 
Man's eyes beheld a morn so fair. 
Yet 'tis not new — the breaking day — 
But an old, old thing in a new sweet way. 

The orchard blooms; and never the skies 
A season saw in fairer guise. 
Yet leaf and flower and trembling spray 
Are but old, old things in a new sweet 

Dive not for tropes, — for the pearl you get 
Is only burnished and reset. 
Art, dreamer, is to do or say 
Just the old, old things in a new sweet 


The Coreless Apple 

By Minnie L. Upton 

Lost is the fine old-fashioned leisure, 
Gone with the gracious days long van- 
ished ; 
Held in the clutch of the tense time's 

"Yes. ma'am," "No. ma'am" are banned 
ami banished. 

Dreams are "dyspepsia." or "wrong posi- 
Out oi date are both elves and witches, 
Science with scalpel and definition 

Has harried them all from their last 
lorn ditches. 

Santa's a myth and his team a fable, 
Like the pot of gold at the rainbow's 
Joyous we sit with thirteen at table; 
Friday's as good for beginning as end- 

Hail, Queen Culture and calm King Sci- 
ience ! 
With thy royal dictates we would not 
grapple ; 
Meekly we bow, nor raise defiance — 
Yet prithee take back the coreless apple ! 

Think of the anguish of each fair maiden 
Whose apple is "named," with thought 
When she finds that the sphere with im- 
port laden 
Is dense, dumb, seedless! Ah, thrice 
pathetic ! 

Think of our dimpled Rose, Lou, Jennie, 

Breathless, agog, for the seeds' revealing 
( )i who shall be "It." "Why, there aren't 
The) gasp, and, the round tears come 
fray put yourself in the place of Benny, 
Promised the core by opulent Teddy, 

When the big bites show that there won't 
be any, — 

And Ben with his mouth all watering, 
ready ! 

For the sake of peace we here made con- 
Have yielded much that we prized right 
We blush, yet we make the frank con- 
But here we stand — we declare it clearly; 

Though we've let you stamp on both faith 
and feeling 
Yet — keep off the grass that the sun- 
beams dapple 
As they softly sift through the orchard's 
Hands off of the dear old-fashioned 
apple ! 

A Sure Sign 

By Evelyn J. Hamant 

"Superstition," says Aunt Martha 

"Is a thing I can't abide, 
But there's just one sign I've faith in, 

And that cannot be denied. 

"Ev'ry time I drop my dish-cloth 
Whether morning, night or noon, 

Jest as sure as you are livin' 
There is comp'ny comin' soon. 

"Once, fer instance, jest to show yer 
When I'd tore my cloth in two, 

All I dropped was half that dish-cloth. 
Well, I wondered. Wouldn't you? 

"Comp'ny come? O, yes, a man come. 

(Never doubt the sign I beg!) 
All I dropped was half my dish-cloth, 

And he had a wooden leg!" 

The Return 

By Ruth B. Canedy 

IT was near the end of August in 
New England, and dogdays were 
lagging toward their close. The 
valleys and all creatures that moved 
within them, or lay and panted in 
the shade, deceived by its false 
promises of coolness, were drowned 
in seas of heated air. Only on the 
hilltops there stirred a little breeze 
beneath a heaven of a purer blue, 
prophesying to those hearts that 
know and love the New England 
autumn perfect days to come. 

Complaining of the heat, yet en- 
couraged by the softly cooling touch 
of the breeze upon perspiring faces, 
the farmers gathered their second 
crop of hay, an unusually heavy 
one this season ; and indoors their 
wives, less fortunate, bent above 
heated ovens, or devoted the last 
hours of the still Saturday after- 
noon to cleaning in preparation for 
the morrow. They worked restless- 
ly, overcoming. with determined will 
the influences of the weather, which 
are for a short season in New Eng- 
land not less enervating than in 
climes where men and women yield 
themselves without resistance to 
lassitude and drowsing. 

In the scattered farm houses that 
gave its reason for being to a cer- 
tain road leading over the hills from 
the "middle" town to its remoter 
districts, not even the busiest house- 
wife failed to glance out of the win- 
dow with interest at a young couple 
passing idly along as chance and 
the highway willed. And the sight 

stimulated remarks of similar tenor 
among all the observers, though not 
interrupting the activities of mop or 
doughnut cutter. 

"There's the school teacher and 
her city beau." And "Every year 
I think she'll get married and one 
of our girls '11 get a chance at the 
school." — "But they say he hain't 
got any money nor much know how 
to get along in the world, 'n I guess 
she's pretty glad to keep along teach- 
ing." — "Well, the scholars do like 
her awful well." 

The "school teacher and her city 
beau" walked on, their conversa- 
tion as unanimated as their gait. 
The girl had a sweet face, yet too 
pale and anxious for one who had 
the summer vacation behind her 
and a long term of teaching be- 
fore her. Her expression was wist- 
ful and she cast little worried 
glances at the young man, who 
was gloomily kicking up the dust 
in the wheel-track at the other 
side of the road. The silence trou- 
bled his companion. She cast a pre- 
occupied glance around her, search- 
ing a suggestion for conversation. 

"It must be terribly hot in the 
city today," she said. 

But he glowered with an even 
more lively discontent. 

"My, how I hate to go back there ! 
A precious vacation I've had this 
year. You came day before yester- 
day and I go to-morrow." 

The words hardly warranted the 
deep flush that visited her cheek. 



The knowledge that her absence 
had disappointed him made her eyes 
shine as she answered with gentle 

"I am very sorry, too. Bnt my 
sister's little girl was sick and she 
needed me very much. They haven't 
any help, you know. They are quite 

She did not add that she had 
helped pay the doctor's bill with the 
little that she had saved during her 
last year's teaching. 

"Poor ! Everybody's poor !" cried 
the young man. "It's just slave 
away year after year and have noth- 
ing to show for it. There was a 
place in our business that I'd been 
hoping to get for a long time, and 
when it fell vacant they advanced a 
chap right over my head, who hadn't 
been with the firm but six months. 
That's the way things go." 

"Oh ! w r as that the place you told 
me last year was going to be va- 
cant? What a disappointment! 
And how mean of them ! Of course 
it was just favoritism." 

His brow smoothed a little at her 

"Yes, he had a pull. But then I 
guess he is quicker than I am, and 
hustling is what gets you ahead. 
But it looks as if I am going to be 
poor always. Do you know," his 
voice fell and he spoke solemnly, 
"sometimes I feel as if Mother was 
lucky to be out of it at last. How 
she hated being poor!" 

"I suppose it's ever so much hard- 
er when you've had money once," 
the girl said softly. 

"And father and mother had a lot 
at one time. When great grand- 
father died you know he lived 
around in these parts somewhere — 
he left a pile of money, and father 

and Aunt Abigail were the only 
heirs. You know it was Aunt Abi- 
gail's funeral that first brought us 
up here. She would never have any- 
thing to do with us, but Mother was 
determined to come. I guess she 
thought Aunt Abigail's share — she 
hadn't spent a penny of it-^-would 
come to us ; and it would have if 
there hadn't been any will. — Well,. 
I suppose you've heard the story 
from people around here." 

"I have heard something about 
it," she answered, for it was an oft 
repeated tale in the community and 
received many embellishments from 
its various narrators. "Your aunt 
left her money for building a new 
church, didn't she?" 

"Yes," he said, bitterly, "and kind- 
ly referred in her will to her desire 
to save her property from the frivol- 
ity and extravagance of worldly- 
minded people. Poor Mother! I'm 
afraid she didn't know very well how 
to save. That's one reason why I'm 

The girl held back the tears, her 
lip caught by her teeth, as she look- 
ed away at the distant hills. Far 
down in her heart she knew that her 
own happiness was involved with 
his. But she saw only weary years 
of lonely waiting stretch out into 
the future. There was no way of 
escaping them. 

As they talked they had passed 
out of the well-worn highway, be- 
yond the frequent farmhouses and 
moved now among the patches of 
light and shade that lay listlessly 
on the ridges of a little used moun- 
tain road. The day dwelt very still 
about them. Even the birds sel- 
dom twittered at this hour and only 
occasionally a chipmunk slipped 
along the top of a stone wall among 



the brush at the roadside. The im- 
passive calm of Nature seemed to 
the girl to make more poignant the 
aching care that lay within her 
heart. And at the same time the 
beauty of the afternoon called to her 
to put herself in harmony with it. 
She was no poet, but she was coun- 
try-bred and loved the woods. A 
half-hidden opening in the trees and 
bushes at their right hand caught 
her eyes. 

"Oh, lets go down there," she 
said. "It's so pretty, and there's a 
clearing about an old deserted farm 
a little farther on. My children 
brought me down here last June 
after strawberries and I thought 
then that I would surely come 

They turned and followed the new- 
path. It was evidently a long dis- 
used road, rain-washed and stony, 
with an unkempt profusion of weeds 
and bushes among tall trees at its 
sides, the green luxuriance, mingled 
with golden-rod and the delicate pur- 
ple asters, encroaching upon the ruts 
of the road itself. It led them by a 
steep descent down to a brook, the 
noisiest babbler of the August after- 
noon, across a somewhat perilous 
bridge, and up again to the clearing 
of which the girl had spoken. Here 
were old apple-trees, veterans of a 
hundred years' strife with wintry 
winds and snows, bearing fruit that 
had grown year by year more sour 
and small and was no longer worth 
the picking. Yet the meadow beyond 
showed the long parallel traces of 
recent haymaking, and from some 
not distant region, hidden by the 
curve of the hill, arose the sharp 
monotonous sound of the mowing 

The girl seemed surprised. "The 

place is quite deserted, I under- 
stand," she said. "But I suppose 
that someone has bought the right 
to cut the hay off from it. Let's go 
and sit down at the edge of the 
woods up there. There is such a 
pretty view down into the valley." 

But that which interested the 
young man more than the beautiful 
view down over the mountain side 
in its billowy dress of rich green, to 
the distant river sparkling here and 
there through the faintly bluish haze 
about it, was the dilapitated build- 
ings of the long since deserted farm 
in the foreground. The barn was a 
complete ruin, a heap of dark slate 
colored timbers, quite thin and brit- 
tle now, and slowly devoured by the 
weather to which they had once of- 
fered so bold resistance. Of the 
house two tottering walls still clung 
together at the angle and sadly sug- 
gested the simple lines of the small 
enclosed square of ground where 
once had been a home. In the centre 
the massive lower part of the chim- 
ney was choked with the white and 
red debris of its own fallen sides. 
Even to the unimaginative young 
clerk, over all the picture seemed in- 
scribed the words, owue-lees, use- 
less, purposeless 

"Somebody worked hard here 
once, I suppose," he said, after he 
ha-! surveyed the scene for some 
time in silence. 

"And perhaps they didn't get 
ahead much either," suggested his 
companion. "People did work and 
have little years ago, but perhaps 
they were as happy as people are 
now, on the whole." 

"I wonder if they were happy," 
he said, ponderingly. "They didn't 
know any other way of living, like 
we do." 



"And didn't they have around 
them all the time a good deal of 
what people work for, nowadays! I 
guess you'd be willing to work hard 
and save for the sake of being all 
the spring and the summer and the 
fall up here when you come now for 
your little bit of vacation." 

"I notice you don't say anything 
about the winter." The young fel- 
low smiled a little mockingly. 

The loyalty of a country-bred girl 
fired her answering speech. 

"I don't believe that the winter's 
so bad, even way off here. Anyone 
gets used to being out in cold weath- 
er. And I suppose the people who 
lived here were always working and 
planning to make their home com- 
fortable and have things to enjoy, 
eren if they were simple things. 
And I don't see how they could be 
lonesome, when they were working 

She stopped abruptly. A tinge of 
red beneath her skin deepened on 
brow and cheek and set her ears 
glowing like coals against the brown 
of her hair. Conscious of her un- 
warranted confusion, she turned her 
face away and stared at the irregu- 
lar line of the wooded mountain 
against the sky. The awkward si- 
lence seemed to last interminably. 
Then a sound of movement on the 
slope that stretched down toward the 
old farm, brought welcome relief. 

A man was heavily advancing to- 
ward them, mopping his forehead 
under the bulging brim of the big 
straw hat. The sound of the mow- 
ing machine had ceased, and farther 
down under the shade of one of the 
old apple frees two other haymakers 
could be seen refreshing themselves 
with alternate draughts from a jug 

The old farmer halted at the edge 
of the wood where the two young 
people sat. 

"How d'ye do?" he said to the 
school teacher, eyeing the young 
man with furtive curiosity. 

"How d'ye do, Mr. Simms?" The 
girl's relief at the interruption gave 
her voice an unexpectedly cordial 
ring. "So you're cutting the rowen 
off this place. We were just won- 
dering who had the right to the crop 

The man sat down on the grass 
beside them, lowering himself care- 
fully, then subsiding with a little 
jerk that told of joints stiffened by 

"Yes," he said, drawing out the 
vowels in his speech, "I cut the 
grass, but 'taint hardly worth the 
trouble. It's all runnin' out, the 
way it always does where there ain't 
nobody livin'." 

He cast a pondering dissatisfied 
glance over the meadow before 
them, and seemed, in his slow cal- 
culatings, to have forgotten the con- 
versation, until the young man said, 

"We should like to know the his- 
tory of this place if you can tell us. 
Though it's just like a hundred oth- 
ers, I dare say." 

"Well, I dunno but 'tis and I 
dunno as 'tis. It must be pretty 
nigh forty years since the old folks 
died, both of 'em the same winter, 
and there hasn't anybody lived here 

"They was children, too, but the 
boy went off to the city, and the 
girl couldn't run the farm alone, an' 
so she went up to the village. Dress- 
maked some. Now she's dead, too." 

"And the people that lived here 
had to work hard and have little, I 



The farmer turned shrewd eyes, 
narrowed by numberless fine wrin- 
kles in the sheathing skin, upon the 
young man, who had asked the ques- 

"Work hard? Well, I guess they 
did, like most everybody round here. 
And I don't s'pose you'd call it 
havin' much" — he chuckled private- 
ly for a moment — "bein' as the old 
man was tight as the bark of a wal- 
nut. But they was richer 'n anybody 
that's lived in this town before nor 

He seemed aggrieved that his an- 
nouncement brought no greater sur- 
prise to the face of his hearers. 
"Why," he went on, "there's a story 
I've heard tell over 'n over again, 
how some strangers wanted to be 
kep' here over night once, an' the 
old man took 'em in, an' the next 
mornin' they wanted to pay him. 
Well, the deacon said at fust he 
wouldn't take anything, but they 
said they wasn't tramping for their 
livin' and handed him out a bill. An' 
when he went to get the change for 
'em he lugged out an old stocking 
chuck full of money, an' gold, too. 
An' besides that he had wads of 
greenbacks hid away. He didn't 
trust to no savin's banks, didn't the 

Still no exclamations of surprise 
rewarded the narrator's effort. The 
young man said only, 

"H'm ! It must have been a pret- 
ty profitable farm." 

"Well, 'twas. Cause the deacon 
come when the land was new, but 
it's a good farm. Anyone could git 
along here now who was a mind to 
put out a little capital and a good 
deal of elbow grease — " 

"It's too bad," said the school 
teacher, "that there wasn't any son 

to keep up the farm after the father 

"Where did the money go to?" the 
young man asked. 

"That's the funniest part of it. Of 
course it went to the heirs an' they 
got red of it in no time. They 
hadn't earnt it and didn't know how 
to save it. They didn't live around 
here, leastways not them that spent 
it. The girl she lived here. She 
was a chip of the old block, kept all 
her father had left her, and added 
to it, by Gum ! she did. An' if you 
come round here again next sum- 
mer you'll see the finest church 
building in the country right up here 
on this hill. An' there's where'll be 
the last of old Deacon Willis' mon- 

"Deacon Willis !" the exclama- 
tions of surprise came at last. The 
two young people looked at each 
other, wide-eyed and oblivious of the 
sharp scrutiny under the farmer's 
rough gray brows. 

"Yes, they call this the old Willis 
place," he said. 

For a long minute no one spoke. 
There was a flutter of excitement in 
the girl's manner and the young 
man looked frowningly, absently 
down at the two heaps of blackened 
rotting timbers. 

"Well, I guess I'll go back and 
finish up." The farmer rose jerkily. 
"It's goin' to be another hay day to- 
morrer," he added, glancing at the 
sky where the sun was sinking out 
of the blue into the faintly whitish 
haze above the horizon. 

The young clerk stopped his go- 
ing with another question. 

"To whom does the farm belong 


"Ask me something easier an' I'll 
tell you. I s'pose 'twould belong 



by law to the heirs of the heirs of 
the old man Willis — " again the girl 
started and shot a glance, excited, 
radiant, at her companion, which 
was not lost on the speaker, al- 
though he drawled on, "But no heirs 
appearin', it kinder belong to the 
town, and as I live the nearest, 
down below there, I cut the hay off. 
But it don't hardly pay for the 

He surveyed the two a moment 
thoughtfully, then, without any for- 
mality of farewell, went down the 
sloue with his slow and labored gait 
of an old man, but of one accus- 
tomed through long years to tramp- 
ing over pastures and meadows." 

When he had joined his two as- 
sistants, stretched comfortably on 
the grass under the apple-tree, he 
first helped himself to a long pull at 
the cider jug; then said, jerking his 
head toward the couple that he had 
just left. 

"You see them two? Well, I'll 
bet you a hundred to one that the 
feller is the great grandson of old 
Deacon Willis that lived here. I've 
heard how a Willis comes up here 
and boards a while summers, that's 
beauin' the school teacher. He never 

knew he was on the fam'ly place!" 

Meanwhile the two who still sat 
on the hill where the woods met the 
meadow were looking into each oth- 
er's eyes. A new and wonderful 
thought had been born in the mind 
of each, a thought full of uncertain- 
ty and full of joy, at which they 
caught their breath in fear, but 
which came attended by conviction 
and desire. 

"I should have to build cheap, and 
put on a mortgage at that," said he. 

The girl's quick hand touched his 
sleeve and a fire of inspired courage 
leapt into her eyes. 

"We could work it off," she said. 

Then in an instant she was caught 
again in the cruel hot wave of her 
shame. She sprang to her feet with 
an impulse to flee, anywhere, to es- 
cape the horror of her own revela- 
tion. But her flight was stopped be- 
fore its beginning, for his arms were 
around her. A man's courage and 
a man's confidence planted his feet 
firmly in the present and sped his 
hopes on into the future. 

"Will you be ready to come next 
fall?" he asked. 

And she wept with joy upon his 



THE editor has asked me if the 
Duluth of to-day is sufficiently 
changed from that of ten year's 
ago to warrant another sketch in 
his magazine. And therein, I take 
it, is typified the conservative 
thought of the East. Change enough 
in ten years ! Why, it is a genera- 
tion, a cycle, in the life of a young- 
western community. One who 
would answer no to such a question 
would admit the ossification of his 
city; not to grow in the West is to 
dry up, to die, to become the mere 
withered shell of former activity. 
My predecessor in this matter of 
describing Duluth pictured a city 
of brave front, looking outward and 
up with the nonchalance of assured 
success. But the time was 1895, 
and those who know the struggles 
of the lean after-boom years that 
were then upon the West, the chill- 
ing depression, the griping pain at 
the heart and the fear when, one 
after another, a man's fortunes and 
prospects were swept away, leaving 
no trace but that of debt and the 
overwhelming shadow of sickening 


loss, the paralyzing sense that how- 
ever one might beat the waves of 
adversity in his struggles toward a 
safe haven they were sure to engulf 
him in due course; to one, I say, 
who remembers these things the 
Duluth of ten years ago was but a 
disheveled and disconsolate hoyden 
after all. 

Few cities in the country suffered 
from the panic of the early nineties 
more severely than Duluth. It was 
over-boomed and over-built; top- 
heavy with debt incurred in useless 
and burdensome undertakings, pub- 
lic and private. It had miles of 
streets graded through rock and 
clay, along which no man dwelt. It 
had suburbs established for the sole 
purpose of transferring the elusive 
dollar from the pocket of one man 
to that of another. It had been ficti- 
tiously prosperous upon bonused 
industries, manufacturing enter- 
prises that, for one reason or an- 
other, had sought to change their 
locations and had gathered at Du- 
luth like flies about a sugar lump. 
Its people were heavily in debt, and 


interest payments both private and 
municipal were pouring eastward 
and continually draining the city of 
the money it earned or could bor- 
row. In short, it was like all western 
communities that had experienced a 
boom. During those years when 
municipalities of the younger era 
were passing through the furnace, 
to come out wrecked or tried and 
vigorous, young men grew old and 
decrepit, old men lost their grip and 
their courage, and the bonused in- 
dustry passed the way of all unnat- 
ural and bolstered efforts of finance. 
It would be difficult for one who 
remembers them well to overstate 
the facts, and an analysis of the 
economic situation as it then pre- 
sented itself, not only so far as Du- 
luth was concerned but all through 
the West and Northwest, would be 
one of tHe interesting contributions 
to sociology. 

It was from such a foundation 
that the new Duluth was necessar- 
ily erected. It was a new Duluth in 
more senses than one. Men who 

had borne the brunt of the battle 
had fallen by the wayside. Others 
must take their place. One crowd 
had planted, another was to reap 
the harvest that was far riper and 
closer than then seemed possible. 
That this was inevitably true was 
one of the mournful and unhappy 
results of the conditions of the time. 
The present day prosperity of 
Duluth dates, so far as any exact 
date can be assigned that which is 
a gradual effect, from the close of 
the Spanish war. The West is al- 
ways later to feel improvement in 
business conditions than the East, 
just as the effects of depressions 
reach it later. The "iron barometer" 
affects this northwestern city with 
singular force, for Duluth is the 
centre and distributing point for the 
great Lake Superior iron ore region, 
from whose mines comes more than 
three-fourths of all iron produced in 
the United States. In 1896 the iron 
ore output of the United States fell 
from 10,500,000 to less than 10,000,- 
000 tons, but the following year saw 




a revival and a gain of 2,500,000 
tons. Then in 1898 there was a 
further gain of 1,500,000 tons and 
what seemed an assured prospect 
for the future. After 1898, too, 
came the various consolidations in 
the steel and mining trades, culmi- 
nating in 1901 in the agglomeration 

and tape gamblers, appreciated the 
fact that their long life and their 
chief value lay, not so much in steel 
works and mills, as in the control 
of ore in the ground, and they pro- 
ceeded to gather it in. There were 
none so active along this line as 
the Oliver Iron Mining Company. 


of many combinations in the stupen- 
dous United States Steel Corpora- 
tion. These all had a tremendous 
effect upon Duluth, for they all in- 
creased the demand for iron ore in 
the ground, for undeveloped mines, 
for prospects, for explorations, for 
lands upon the ore bearing forma- 
tions, especially of the Mesabi 
range. This Mesabi was Duluth's 
near neighbor, and. as closely iden- 
tified with the city's growth as 
though it was a portion of the mu- 

These steel making combinations, 
those of them, at least, that were 
dominated by practical men of the 
trade rather than by market riggers 

Backed by the millions of the Car- 
negie Steel Company and the com- 
bined genius of Henry W. Oliver 
and Andrew Carnegie, it distributed 
money wisely, indeed, but gener- 
ously, to owners of mines and lands 
upon the Mesabi. Other companies 
did the same, so far as their means 
or their prophetic vision permitted. 
Exploration became general, and 
the business done in mining lands 
and leases grew to enormous pro- 
portions. It meant a golden har- 
vest to Duluth. Prior to that time, 
though the city profited to a con- 
siderable extent by the proximity 
of these, the greatest iron ore de- 
posits known to man, they had been 


of comparatively little benefit to it, 
because the ownership of operating 
mines and railways had been filched 
from the hands of local people, and 
because of a determined and hitherto 
successful effort to maintain the sell- 
ing values of undeveloped ore lands 
at far below their real worth. 

The advent of the United States 
Steel Corporation brought to Du- 
luth the headquarters of all its 
mining and transportation interests ; 
the former embracing the employ- 
ment of many thousands of men, 
from skilled operators and mana- 
gers, scientists, engineers and geol- 
ogists, to day laborers; and the lat- 
ter including two railroads and the 
most powerful fleet flying the 
American flag. What was perhaps 
even more, it located permanently 
at Duluth, in close touch with its 
people and their life and affairs, a 
group of big men, broad-minded 
managers of these interests. The 
managers of this corporation appre- 
ciated the overwhelming importance 
of mines, and knew that the con- 
trol of the steel trade of America 
rested, not in smoky mills and giant 
furnaces, that money could con- 
struct, but in monopoly of the raw 
ore, that had been laid down along 
Superior's hills by the dim pro- 

cesses of nature in ages far remote. 
This was to be a monopoly that 
would not require rate discrimina- 
tions, false charges, rebates, the 
crushing of competition by under- 
selling; but could assert itself by 
saying: "We do not care to sell 
our ore, we need it all in our own 
business for the conservation of our 
values and the maintenance of our 
works in future years." From that 
time till now the value of ore in the 
ground has gradually risen and a 
great amount of money has been 
poured into the city. 

A few years after the recovery of 
the West from the panic of the early 
'9o's pine timber began to appreciate 
in value, as its worth and growing 
scarcity were more and more fully 
understood. Northeastern Minne- 
sota, the country directly tributary 
to Duluth, held the only virgin 
tract of white pine left on the 
American continent, east of the 
Rocky mountains. Ten years ago 
there were, in the three counties 
along Superior's northern coast and 
of which Duluth is the only city of 
importance, not less tkan fifteen 
thousand million feet of standing 
white pine. Big figures, those, but 
easily susceptible of proof. This was 
in addition to correspondingly enor- 



mous quantities of cedar, spruce and 
deciduous woods. In the decade that 
has since elapsed more than eight 
thousand million feet of the pine, 
as well as somewhat relatively 
smaller amounts of other timber, 
have been cut, sawn and marketed. 
It has been a main source of supply 
for New York and New England, 
has been generously distributed 
throughout the central West. The 
tremendous rate at which this tim- 
ber has been cut, the growing 
appreciation that it is the last, has 
enhanced the value of that left, and 
this has been another source of in- 
crease in the financial strength of 
Duluth. Then, too, it costs about 
twelve dollars for the labor involved 
in getting a thousand feet of lumber 
from the tree in the woods to the 
ship in the harbor, this figure in- 

cluding the logging, towing or haul- 
ing to mill, sawing and loading 
aboard ship. There has been spent, 
therefore, in the ten years no less 
than one hundred million dollars in 
this single productive industry in 
the Duluth district; of this the 
greater share has been paid out in 
and close to this city. To get this 
timber to mills long railway lines 
have been built, almost always 
through wild and forbidding regions, 
rivers have been improved at great 
expense, intricate and costly sys- 
tems of dams and controlling works 
erected. In the ten years the pro- 
cess of lumbering has been revolu- 
tionized, and is now no more like 
that of the preceding period, or 
still common in the East, than one 
of the northwestern mills capable 
of cutting six hundred thousand 





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feet in a day resembles the old addition to gold and silver, and their 

time "muley" mill, with its fifty 
thousand or sixty thousand feet 
weekly. In all this progress, of in- 
vention and adaptation, Duluth has 
been well at the front, and has 
naturally profited financially as 
well as in the stability of its indus- 
trial life. 

Five years ago certain Duluthians 
became probable factors in the 
world's copper market by invest- 
ment in a comparatively new and 
little known mining region in the 
far southwest. Greatly aided by 
friends in other cities these men 
have put more than twelve million 
dollars into a group of mines in 
southern Arizona and in Montana. 
The story of their daring opera- 
tions and their successes reads like 
a romance and is far too long to 
detail here. In Bisbee and Butte, 
the two camps which they entered, 
they have mile after mile of under- 
ground openings, with rich copper 
blocked out for mining in years to 
come; they have nine big shafts 
sunk more than one thousand feet 
and are driving more; they are 
making daily, from the first three 
mines that have reached the pro- 
ducing state, about two hundred and 
fifty thousand pounds of copper, in 

first mines are earning more than 
their entire capital stock every 
year in net profits. The day is not 
far distant, when all these shafts 
are producing as vigorously as the 
first two, when these combined cop- 
per interests will be among the two 
or three leading groups of the 
world, and when Duluth will be 
recognized as a most important fac- 
tor in the metal trade. 

Ten years ago there was no 
ownership of shipping at the head 
of the lakes ; other than that of a 
few tugs and dredges, no trans-lake 
shipping was held or operated from 
this end of the great lakes. This 
in spite of the fact that even then 
the port furnished more tonnage for 
vessels than any other lake point. 
With the advent of men of means 
and courage, interested in shipping, 
with a knowledge of the trade, and 
controlling traffic, a change began. 
Now there is more shipping regis- 
tered from Duluth, as home port, 
than anywhere on the lakes. Even 
Cleveland, long the home of the 
shipping industry, has now fallen 
behind in this race. The largest 
fleet of the lakes, that of the Pitts- 
burg Steamship .Company, with its 
one hundred great vessels, capable 



of moving two million tons a month, 
is registered from Duluth as its 
home port. Many fleets are owned 
here, and of the forty-two ships 
for the bulk freight trade that were 
this spring under construction or 
had been recently launched eleven 
were for Duluth owners. To-day 
there are under Duluth registry 
lake shipping of a total gross ton- 
nage of 600,000 tons in 400 vessels, 
while ten years ago the total was 
but a paltry 5,009 tons in fifty-six 
vessels. In this connection it is an 
interesting fact that, where ten 
years ago the average capacity of 
the new freight ship in the great 
lake trade was but three thousand 
tons, it is now above ten thousand 
tons. The total registered tonnage 
of the northern lakes is two million, 

of which Duluth has more than a 

For thirty years one of the dreams 
of Duluthians had been the utiliza- 
tion of the vast power running to 
waste down the rapids of the St. 
Louis river. In ten miles of its 
lower course, above where it widens 
into the splendid harbor of Duluth- 
Superior, is a fall of five hundred 
feet, in a succession of rapids and 
cascades. A magnificent water-shed 
of twenty-five hundred square miles, 
half swamp and natural reservoirs, 
is back of it and aids materially in 
maintaining the water at a fairly 
steady flow and even level through- 
out the seasons. In the early days 
of the Northwest, when Jay Cooke 
was furnishing the funds for the 
construction of the Northern Pa- 




cific road, he saw the possibilities 
oi that fall, and bought the shores 
for many miles. Several attempts 
wore made to improve the rapids, 
but they all failed and to none of 
them did Mr. Cooke lend much 
assistance. The times were not pro- 
pitious, the plans were not favor- 
able, or the men attempting the 
enterprise were not such as he could 
endorse. But now that power is 
being harnessed. Tomorrow wheels 
to generate an initial installation of 
thirty thousand horse power will 
be whirling. That is the beginning. 
There is an ultimate possibility of 
two hundred and fifty thousand 
horse power in those rapids and the 
day does not seem far distant when 
most of it will be in service. It will 
cheapen the cost of manufacturing 
in Duluth to a point that will neu- 
tralize some present disadvantages ; 
it will mine the iron ore of northern 
Minnesota and run the trains that 
bring ore to the lakes; it will flow 
to the splendid twin cities at the 
head of Mississippi navigation, to 
aid in their commercial develop- 
ment; it may even cause the con- 
struction of electric railway lines 
for a hundred miles or more. Men 
prominent in business at Duluth, 
together with bankers in New York 
and Boston, are at the head of this 
enterprise. So long have the peo- 
ple waited in vain for this develop- 
ment, so many times have they 
been baffled on the very verge of 
apparent success, that it now is 
hard to realize that the work is 
actually in progress and that it will 
soon be completed. Statistics prove 
it to be one of the chief water- 
power developments of the Ameri- 
can continent; this, too, is difficult 
of appreciation, so quietly is the 

work of progress being carried to 
a conclusion. 

Minneapolis and St. Paul have 
long dominated the wholesale trade 
of the Northwest. Their age, 
wealth, commanding position on the 
Mississippi river reached by many 
lines of railway, and the fertile and 
thickly settled country surrounding 
them, all drew business to their 
doors. But within a few years 
Duluth has come to a position 
where it is dominant in some lines 
of wholesaling, especially lines of 
heavy goods where its position, on 
deep water navigation, with cheap 
freights to the East, has had im- 
portant bearing on the situation. 
The twin cities of the head of the 
Mississippi no longer control the 
wholesale trade of the vast North- 
west, it is divided with their 
younger sister of the head of the 
great lakes. One leading wholesale 
house at Duluth is the second or 
third in importance in its line for 
all the United States, has branch 
houses on the Pacific coast and in 
Canada, sends its travelling men 
across the western ocean and main- 
tains an office force of two hundred 
people. Where rail and water meet 
is the logical position for a great 
distributing centre and this fact, 
with brains, enterprise and the sin- 
ews of financial ability, will make 
Duluth still more important as a 
wholesale point as the years pass. 

The day is forgotten when the 
ardent Duluthian, the boomer, could 
see good in large things alone. That 
time was, and it was but a few 
years ago, when lavish assistance, 
financial and otherwise, was to be 
had by any enterprise that prom- 
ised a big thing. The Duluthian 
was essentially a gambler, and if 



the stake was big, it was 
the more attractive. "Who 
wouldn't gamble for a 
star?" Who wouldn't put 
up his last dollar and 
mortgage his realty to 
swipe from a competing 
neighborhood burg some 
manufacturing enterprise 
that promised to bring 
in hundreds of men and 
build up a new suburb? 
But now they appreciate 
the fact that such trans- 
planting does not pay, the 
tree torn up and reset 
where soil, or climate, or 
some other condition is 
passed and that of the 
not favorable, will not 
flourish. It is better to 
start with the seedling, 
even though small, and 
enrich it with business 
that shall make it grow. 
So the day of big things, 
as such merely, has 
small enterprise, located 
right, studied for adapta- 
tion to its situation, has 
come. In other words 
there are to-day in Du- 
luth far more manufac- 
turing enterprises than 
ever before, but they are 
growing ones. Some are 
small, some have reached 
the day of girth and tow- 
ering importance. It is 
no longer the dream that 
1 Duluth shall have a steel 
rail mill of one thousand 
tons daily capacity, to 
blossom out at once, but 
the hope that at the head 
of the lakes, at the door 
of the iron mines, where 

in. , . . 


there is both raw material and the 
market for the finished article, there 
shall ultimately be iron manufactur- 
ing on a large scale, is still as 
strong as ever. 

There is good reason for such 
hope and desire. Duluth has long 
been the funnel through which the 
riches of western mines have poured 
forth to enrich the iron coast of 
Erie and the cities of Pennsylvania. 
The ton of iron ore that pays a trib- 
ute of a few cents to labor makes 
the steel beam or the plate or the 
bar that gives labor dollars. It 
may be further fabricated and pay a 
hundred times as much to the arti- 
san. The argument has been that 
Duluth was too far away. Too far 
away from what? Not the iron ore 
surely; not the market if that mar- 
ket is rightly considered. It is true 
that most users of steel are in the 

East, but they ship no small portion 
of their products into the Northwest, 
paying freights on the raw material 
one way and on the finished product 
the other. It is also said that it is 
cheaper to bring the ore to its fuel 
than the fuel to its ore. This is 
untrue. For the smelting of ore to 
make a ton of pig iron is required 
little more than a ton of coal. 
Freight on coal from Lake Erie 
ports to Duluth is from thirty to 
forty cents a ton. But to make this 
ton of pig iron more than 1.6 tons 
of ore are necessary, and the freight 
on this from Duluth to Lake Erie is 
seventy to eighty cents per ton. 
This favors the West in both ton- 
nage and the rate per ton. That the 
time will come when iron will be 
made in quantity on the shores of 
Lake Superior cannot be questioned. 

A successful beginning has been 




made here, .not alone in the matter 
of pig iron but in many refined 
forms, and the business is steadily 
growing. If the time ever comes 
when that glittering dream of the 
manufacture of iron and steel by the 
heat of the electric arc shall become 
reality on a commercial scale, the 
Northwest as an iron making cen- 
tre will have arrived. 

Duluth has not so many banks as 
ten years ago; the panic tried them 
out; but its bank statements in the 
spring of 1906 showed an average 
deposit, estimating the population 
at seventy thousand, of two hun- 
dred and forty dollars. This, to 
be sure, is far above the average for 
the country, or for all but a very 
few of its wealthier cities. Ten 
years ago it was a fortunate local 
bank that had deposits of double its 
capital stock, now they run to twelve 
or fifteen times the capital. 

In the past few years the city has 
fought out and won a battle for 
municipal ownership of its public 
utilities that has been of the utmost 
benefit to it, from an immediate as 
well as an educational standpoint, 
and that has put it well to the front 
among the municipalities favoring 
public ownership. Its water and 
light services were by a private 
company.. With the largest and 
purest body of fresh water at its 
foot Duluth was drinking sewage 
contaminated by typhoid germs. 
There was a series of epidemics in 
which hundreds were killed. Recent 
typhoid scourges in Butler, Ithaca, 
and other cities were mild compared 
to what Duluth suffered in silence. 
And so great was the forbearance, 
or lethargy, of the stricken city, 
that the company was permitted 
continued control and the manager 

of its works was allowed to walk 
the streets and laugh his victims 
in the face. But the lesson was 
not lost, and after continued agi- 
tation and a campaign or two 
the city bought the water and 
gas works and proceeded to remedy 
conditions that had long before 
become unbearable. Typhoid dis- 
appeared, the costs of water and 
gas have been reduced to one-third 
the former price, the works have 
been operated on a splendid basis 
and far more satisfactorily than be- 
fore, and the city has been so con- 
verted to the municipal ownership 
idea that it is not long before it will 
take steps to widen control of cor- 
poration interests. 

By a happy combination between 
the city's water and light commis- 
sion and the company operating the 
Zenith blast furnace and its attend- 
ant battery of by-product ovens the 
cost of gas to the citizens is lower 
than in any western city, so low in 
fact, that gas has supplanted other 
fuel for many purposes and is used 
almost exclusively for cooking. 
These same ovens, by their saving 
of tar from the retorting of coal, are 
permitting the paving of the city's 
streets by tar macadam, at low cost 
and in a most satisfactory manner. 
Out of these customarily wasted by- 
products of cokeing and iron mak- 
ing are coming, also, a number of 
other industries, among them that 
of making tar felt and building 
paper, of slag brick, cement, the 
refining of ammonia and so on. 

It would be an easy matter to 
give startling figures to illustrate 
the growth of the city's shipping 
and kindred trades, to show that its 
freight is handled with greater 
celerity than that of any other port 



on earth, that its general business 
statistics increase exceedingly year 
by year, but figures are of little 
value ; they quickly reach a point 
where interest palls and where rela- 
tions are lost ; they become so large 
and weighty that the sense of com- 
prehension escapes. 

But 1 must, at the risk of tedious- 
ness, call attention to a fact brought 
out by the secretary of the city's 
grain exchange in his last annual 
report. This showed that, of the 
great marine ports of the world, 
Duluth harbor stood third. The re- 
spective rank in 1905 was : First, 
London, with 33,478,000 tons regis- 
try; second, New York with 30,314,- 
000; third, Duluth with 27,663,000. 
Liverpool, Hong Kong, Antwerp, 
Rotterdam, Chicago, Shanghai and 
Singapore followed in the order 
named. In average size of ships 
Duluth led all ports, with vessels al- 
most three time the average capacity 
of the other ports mentioned. 

It has been said by those who 
should know that a city whose site 
permits the concentration of rail- 
way operation away from the busi- 
ness part of town is especially fa- 
vored. This is true of Duluth, and 
the grade crossing, that deadly Jug- 
gernaut, is almost unknown. In a 
city whose railway business is of 
enormous proportions, amounting 
to scores of thousands of carloads 
of freight monthly, this is a matter 
of importance. Duluth slopes to- 
ward Lake Superior, at times in a 
gentle inclination, again with almost 
cliff-like sharpness. In the manu- 
facturing sections the level plateau 
formed by the river is of consider- 
able width and the residence dis- 
tricts are, generally speaking, of 
easy slopes. Natural lay of land has 

produced that separation into dis- 
tricts that is often attempted but is 
sometimes impossible. 

The beginning has been made of 
a system of beautiful parks, in 
which waterfall and cascade, stream 
and rivulet, forest and cliff, lake and 
hillside, are taken advantage of in a 
most charming manner. It would be 
difficult to find a more delightful 
park site than that formed by the 
two rushing brooks, one at either 
end of the city, that have been con- 
nected by a boulevard driveway 
several miles in length on what was 
the beach of the Lake Superior of 
glacial times, more than four hun- 
dred feet above the shrunken lake 
of to-day. Minnesota point, thrust- 
ing its scimetar athwart the end of 
the great lake, is a natural park for 
its seven miles of length, and is 
dotted with the summer cottages of 
city people. A great aerial bridge, 
the first of its kind in America, 
solves the vexing problem of cross- 
ing to this point over such a water- 
way as the Duluth ship canal, 
crowded day and night with the 
shipping of the lakes. Other streams 
than those already taken, spots of 
beauty along the rocky shores of 
Lake Superior, occasional city 
blocks, are either now parked or 
will be when the city finances per- 
mit. For picturesqueness of situa- 
tion, environment, and general 
effect there are few cities more re- 

In population this city is decidedly 
cosmopolitan ; it has been the centre 
for a vast immigration from the 
north of Europe, from states that 
are scarcely known by name, from 
Italy and Austria and a score of 
nations and principalities. People 
of every religion and of no religion 



have come this way, and many of 
them have made the city their 
home. It has been Dnluth's task 
to make Americans ont of much 
material, good, bad and indifferent. 
The work is being done, and done 
well. It is by the schools and the 
churches that this task is carried 
out. Nearly two million dollars has 
been spent for the building and 
equipment of the city's schools. A 
year or two ago the chief honor 
speaker of the graduating class of 
the high school was a young, girl 
whose parents came to America not 
long ago as exiles, driven from the 
land of their birth by despotic rule, 
poverty and hopelessness. Her ad- 
dress betrayed no trace of foreign 
accent and her appearance was that 
of a refined American woman. The 
benevolent assimilation of foreign- 
ers proceeds with wonderful speed 
and sureness. It is, in wider bearing, 
one of the larger facts that make 
toward the future of the republic. 
Hand in hand with the schools are 
churches, and a roster of them all, 
with many strange foreign desig- 
nations, would indicate how ex- 
ceedingly broad is the field they 
touch. There are seventy-six 
church organizations and church 
homes in Duluth. 

A centre of the city's business 
life is its Commercial club, with 
more than one thousand members. 

and a convenient home overlooking 
the harbor. It is a meeting place 
for associations, committees and 
semi-public bodies of all sorts. The 
Kitchi Gammi club is a social or- 
ganization of more than local prom- 
inence and has a handsome and 
commodious building almost en- 
tirely devoted to its use. There are 
many other clubs, but none of the 
importance of these two. Seats on 
the Duluth board of trade, which 
governs the grain and shipping 
trade of the head of Lake Superior, 
are selling at three thousand dol- 
lars and upwards, each, and the 
association is one of the leading 
exchanges of the world. It handles 
a yearly business of from seventy to 
eighty million bushels of cash grains 
and flaxseed. The usual quota of 
charitable and Christian associations 
is to be found in Duluth, and the 
work done by these is of utmost 
value and widespread in its influence. 
Duluth has a better seat in the 
saddle than ever before, and rides 
with more assurance and a firmer 
grasp on the lines. The future must 
remain hidden, but if it can be. 
judged by the past there is only a 
continued progress forward, broken 
occasionally by a fall or a slip, such 
as has ever marked the traveller on 
his upward way, and such as was 
most seriously felt by the Duluth 
of ten years ago. 

W *^J 

Editor's Table 

In the old town of Manchester, Massa- 
chusetts (now Manchester-by-the-Sea) on 
June 8th, 1848, to John Averill Gould, and 
Elizabeth Cheever Leach Gould, was born 
a daughter, whom they named Elizabeth 
Porter, after the father's aunt, Elizabeth 
Averill. who had married Dr. John Porter 
oi Wenham, Massachusetts. 

Descended from generations of worthy 
Essex people, this eldest daughter of the 
Goulds was destined to honor their name 
in the literary world, and to live a life of 
great individual usefulness. On her 
mother's side she claimed as an ancestor 
Ezekiel Cheever, the famous schoolmaster 
and one of the founders of the New Haven 
Colony in Connecticut. Through the 
father she was descended from the poet 
Anne Bradstreet through her son John 
who settled in Topsfield, Massachusetts. 

The home into which this little child 
came was typical of the best of our early 
New England households. The house it- 
self was noted, even in those solemn days, 
for having been, when ready for occupancy, 
dedicated like a church. By invitation of 
the host, many came to this service of 
prayer and praise, and the event was long 
remembered locally. This old house is 
still standing intact, its proportions and 
outline are unaltered, and with its terraced 
garden at the rear, has been used as a 
subject for the canvas of the artist Ernest 

Early in Elizabeth's childhood her father 
]' ft his profession of school-teaching and 
went into business in Boston making a 
new home in Chelsea, Massachusetts. This 
change secured a larger income to meet 
the needs of the growing family, and the 
benefit also for all of a closer touch with 
Boston and its privileges. In the quiet 
suburb Miss Gould grew up, and through 
this favorable environment she developed 
the fine mind and heart that made her 
eventually an intellectual force, not only 

in the great city itself, but in its surround- 
ing towns, and finally in the great world 
outside. , 

The atmosphere of her refined home, 
under the influence of able teachers in 
music, art, literature and history, laid the 
foundation of the general culture which 
was built upon by her extensive travels, 
are selling at three thousand dol- 
ality. Among the early influences she her- 
self loved to recall was the intimacy with 
Judge Mellen Chamberlain and his family. 
Her gratitude for those happy days was 
what impelled her to the permanent memo- 
rial she had made by the valuable gift of 
books, one hundred and thirty-five in num- 
ber, containing among their pages, auto- 
graphed personal letters from the authors 
themselves, willed by her to the Boston 
Public Library, to be added to the Judge 
Chamberlain collection. Another friend of 
whom Miss Gould always spoke with rev- 
erence and affection, as one to whom she 
owed much, was Judge Charles B. Waite, 
one of the leading minds in the Northwest. 
To the influences of her home, and the 
contact with men and women of strong 
intellect, may be added her natural gift 
for music and its interpretation which 
doubtless helped to develop her poetic 
faculties. She became a skilled musician, 
but her ability in this direction gradually 
declined, as she became more active with 
her pen. As an author Miss Gould did 
not appear suddenly in the field. She was 
a mature woman when her first noticeable 
literary effort was put forth — a small vol- 
ume published in 1889, entitled "Gems 
from Walt Whitman." Her courage in 
coming forward as a champion of this 
much misunderstood poet won the respect 
of his adverse critics and stayed their too 
harsh pens; while those who admired him, 
but had neither courage nor opportunity 
to say so, loved her for her success in a 
difficult cause. Some one has said, "Had 




she never given to the public any other 
work than this, she would be entitled to 
a lasting place in the literary world." 
Miss Gould has given valuable help, being 
ing the best of this "broad-minded and 
pure-hearted poet" to the American peo- 
ple, when she revealed him as the friend, 
in her work called "Anne Gilchrist and 
Walt Whitman." The success of these 
efforts made her an honored member of 
the International Walt Whitman Fellow- 
ship. To students of educational progress 
Miss Gould has given valuable help, being 
regarded as authority on the life and work 
of Friedrich Froebel. Her account of 
Robert College on the Bosphorus is the 
only one ever put in writing, and her 
paper on Bulgaria won for her most ap- 
preciative words from Prince Alexander 
himself. In America the star which has 
attracted is her sketch of "John Adams 
and Daniel Webster as Schoolmasters." 
The able critic and author, Charles Fran- 
cis Adams calls it "a most thorough piece 
of historical work," and it has been put in 
all the principal libraries of the United 
States. As a singer among the poets, 
Miss Gould can claim a place by her 
verses written for special occasions, which 
of course gave no great opportunity, but 
revealed often grace and beauty of expres- 
sion. Her versatility, as well as her power 
of conscientious research for the verifica- 
tion of her statements and reason for her 
conclusions, are best seen in her two vol- 
umes of articles written on questions of 
public interest and printed in leading 
papers and magazines. It was quite nat- 
ural that she should have studied into one 
of the greatest questions of the present 
day, the one of universal suffrage, and 
quite characteristic of her that she put 
her conclusions when reached into definite 
form. Her article called "Why I Became 
a Woman Suffragist" is a modest, convinc- 
ing statement of her own conclusions. In 
speaking to me upon the subject she said, 
"My attitude in regard to women voting is 
to vote every chance I' can get and talk 
about it only when I am sure talk is 

Miss Gould's longest prose work, and 

her last literary work is her only novel 
"The Pioneer Doctor." Its scenes are laid 
in Boston, and is as interesting and enter- 
taining as it is pure in motive. Interwoven 
with its love story is the history of the 
period that saw the one hundredth birth- 
day of American independence, the birth 
of the telephone, the activity of the bicycle, 
and the practical development of electricity. 
It is a book which will live beyond the 
passing cay. 

Although Miss Gould never made the 
lecture field a special aim she proved her- 
self a most interesting and instructive 
speaker, when called, as she of f en was, to 
appear ^before clubs and societies with 
original work upon some particular sub- 
ject. Her favorite themes were the lives 
of Abigail Adams, Mary Somerville, Han- 
nah Adams and Caroline Herschel. Those 
fortunate enough to hear her enthusiastic, 
temperate and eloquent studies of these 
strong women have received an inspira- 
tion. At first Miss Gould appeared before 
the chief literary clubs of Boston and en- 
virons going finally to the South and West 
as her name became more widely known. 
She was the first woman to lecture before 
the University of Virginia, in response to 
a most flattering invitation. The pres- 
ent day Current Events classes, which are 
so popular originated with Miss Gould 
who was the first to plan and carry out 
this system of condensed information as 
to the world's doings and progress. It was 
at first "Topic W r ork" and "Topic Class." 
M;ss Gould was a beloved leader in this 
for more than ten years. Her success 
was largely in the fact that she combined 
the power of extemporaneous expression 
with a reservoir of material that only a 
faithful, earnest literary mind can compass. 
Her classes were many and enthusiastic, 
often numbering more than forty women 
in each, and meeting every fortnight. 

In one respect Miss Gould differed from 
the usual strongly intellectual woman or 
man — she was exact and svstematic to a 
remarkable degree. Pier library was so 
carefully arranged, and her treasures so 
neatly indexed and listed, that in her last 
illness, when at the hospital she knew she 



could not return home, she was able to 
make a complete inventory, telling where 
each book, picture or manuscript could be 
found with the memoranda concerning 
them. Among these precious things was a 
large collection of autographed photo- 
graphs of distinguished and noted persons, 
as well as photographic copies of famous 
masterpieces numbering hundreds, also a 
bound volume of letters called the ''Brown- 
ing Letters" for they were those sent her 
from interested readers of her book "The 
Brownings and America." Naturally the 
first letter in this collection is the one 
written to her by the son of the famous 
poet, Robert Barrett Browning, and her 
chief treasure in this connection was their 
autographed portraits. Her Omar Khay- 
yam album was another valued possession, 
for famous artists and authors had left 
for love of her many a lovely original 
sketch upon its pages. Among Miss 

Gould's written books of travel is one giv- 
ing an account of what she called "her 
hobby" of dipping her hands in historic 
and poetic waters. "My fads and hob- 
bies," she once said to me, "have always 
been harmless and sometimes profitable 
ones." She had cooled her fingers in all 
the noted and historic waters in this 
country and in Europe. 

Amid all these pleasant memories and 
congenial surroundings, loving and be- 
loved, in the maturity of her powers, and 
approaching the serenest and happiest pe- 
riod of life — old age — it was hard for this 
gifted woman to face the fact that her 
work and her pleasures here were ended, 
and that she must yield to a fatal disease. 
But true to the motto of her house, "Sau- 
vitur ac Fortiter," sweetly and bravely 
she passed away from all these earthy 

Frederica C. Babcock 

The - National- Society- of~N.ErWomen 

October brings together again various 
circles of women ; and none anticipate, the 
reopening of clubs more pleasantly than 
do the members of the National Society 
of New England Women. "Old Home 
Week" meant more to this Society than 
to any other organization ; and those who 
were not privileged to enjoy a visit to the 
home-town of their nativity or that of 
some of their ancestors, are eager to meet 
again those that were, and to hear of the 
various interests, changes, developments — ■ 
the happy and sad — that have occurred. 
The more distant the location from New 
England the more earnest are members to 
visit or to hear about these "home week" 

The plans of the National Society for 
the coming year are completed; and the 
programme of the Parent Society will be 
published in next month's issue. It would 
lessen greatly the secretary work if 
readers would refer to this rather than 
write for information concerning various 
functions. Not that any secretary is ever 
other than pleased to answer letters con- 
cerning our fraternity; but of the various 
programmes it seems rather needless when 
once these have been published. 

All members of the National Society, 

including the Colonies look forward to 
the President's reception as the leading 
occasion of the year. It is this in more 
ways than one. It not only opens the 
round of social interest but it is a re- 
union after the summer vacation, and a 
glad welcome of the year to follow ex- 
tended by our chief Executive Officer to 
her following. This year the president, 
Mrs. Theodore Frelinghuysen Seward, 
will hold her reception Saturday, October 
20th. She will be assisted by Mrs. Charles 
Gilmore Kerley, first vice president and 
Miss Lizzie Woodbury Law, second vice 

Plans for the year in the various Colo- 
nies have also been completed and their 
programmes will be published in the mag- 
azine at an early issue. As all have been 
enjoying a summer vacation there are no 
reports to publish in this number. Next 
month's issue will necessarily cover a 
large space. Philanthropy has had no va- 
cation in any of the organizations that 
comprise the National Society. Notable 
among good work for others is that ac- 
complished by our San Francisco Colony 
in the care of the poor people rendered 
homeless by the earthquake, and Montclair 
in the work covered by their district nurse. 


The Founding of Salem, Mass 

By Mrs. L. J. Young Withee 

Till", weaving of a magnificent carpet 
or tapestry involves innumerable 
threads, of texture coarse and fine; 
manifold colors, in shades sober and gay; 
skillful workmen, deft in finger, artist in 
eye ; and patient ingenuity and time to 
interweave warp and woof into one im- 
perial whole, thus to make a fabric of last- 
ing worth and beauty. 

Motley, the historian says of our great 
American Republic : "The American de- 
mocracy is the result of all that was great 
in bygone times. All led up to it. It em- 
bodies all. Mount Sinai is in it, Egypt is 
in it, Greece is in it, Rome is in it; all 
the arts are in it, and all the reformations, 
and all the discoveries." 

Briefly summarized, America comprises: 
''Speech, the Alphabet, Mount Sinai, Egypt, 
Greece, Rome, Nazareth, the Feudal Sys- 
tem, the Magna Charta, gunpowder, the 
printing-press, the mariner's compass," and 
we may further add, — electricity, the rail- 
road, the telegraph, the sewing machine, 
the telephone, the automobile, and — Edi- 
son, "The Wizard." 

A birth into new conditions — be it indi- 
vidual or national — is always a bitter tra- 
vail ; a struggle with reactionary forces 
that engender supreme pain and suffering. 

A weary watch in the night, 

Ere the gleaming hope of light. 

Long years before the American Repub- 
lic was set on the map of the ages, the 
Hand of God was preparing the eternal 
forces on both sides of the main, twining 
the filaments into threads which were to be 
woven into this marvelous fabric for the 
American Continenl a Continent vast in 
extent, stretching from ocean to ocean, 
from the Atlantic's bounding waves on the 
I.n-t to the mighty billows that thunder on 
the golden strand of the West. 

Where this carpet now glows with bril- 
liant hues, and cultured millions tread with 
stately measures; where the cultivated 
glebe extends, and palaced cities star the 
land, once was a wilderness wild and rude, 
where the Red Man roamed, and savage 
animals homed in forest and mountain 

God spoke the word: "Let there be a 
mighty nation of mine own planted in the 
land where dwell my red children!" — 
and through the waste of war and fateful 
plague, he reduced the myriad hosts that 
thronged that wilderness stage. He put 
out His hand on the Old World and spun 
the threads one by one, and when the hour 
thrilled on the dial-plate of time, he im- 
pelled them forth on their pilgrim quest. 
Cavalier and Caledonian, Pilgrim and Pur- 
itan, Spaniard and Scandinavian, Holland- 
er, each with its glint of light, its russet 
tone or bright-hued ray, he sent across the 
waste of billowing waters, — each a strand 
to weave in that great national fabric 'mid 
the pathless forests and mountain ranges 
of an unknown world, the great republic 
of the future. 

Religious disruption in England was the 
foundation of our great American Repub- 
lic. In this paper I have only one of these 
diverse lines to deal with. Each has its 
wonderful story to tell. It is not the violet 
ray of the gentle Pilgrim, with the tender 
romance of the maiden Priscilla; it is not 
the golden thread of the Hollander, with 
the cheer of the foaming tankard; it is 
not the blue-blooded Cavalier's open- 
handed hospitality, or the fiery banner of 
the Knights of the Golden Horseshoe; it 
is not the scarlet hue of priestly Spain, 
with the undaunted courage of the "Mis- 
sion Fathers" ; it is not the bonneted 
thistle of the Caledonian, with his slogan 
cry of "Scots, whae hae" that I lay be- 

2 4 8 



fore you, — rather it is a page dark and au- 
stere, across which stalks the Puritan, 
stern in mien and sombre-toned, with his 
dark cloak and peaked hat, his eyes glow- 
ing with the surcharged fire of an indomit- 
able purpose. Like a tneteor across his 
sky sweeps the fiery train of the witches' 
doom. The Puritans were chosen by divine 
wisdom and set apart among human kind 
for a particular duty in the evolution of 
the world; they were trained, disciplined 
and perfected in a school of suffering and 
martyrdom to become the pioneers of a 
vast world reformation. 

To appreciate the actuating sentiments 
of the Puritan exodus to the New World, 
we must hark back to the Island King- 
dom, our Mother heart, where our fore- 
fathers were cradled. Three hundred years 
and more ago, the religious pulse of Eng- 
land beat on the banks of the yellow Tiber, 
and the saffron hue of its priest-ridden 
waters was reflected over the white cliffs 
of Albion. A net-work of churchly super- 
stitions held the whole kingdom in its 
thrall. But we have no time to deal with 
the emancipation of England from the su- 
premacy of Rome. Bluff King Hal with 
his matrimonial graft and proclivity for 
railroading wives, sensual and heartless as 
he is painted, was yet an instrument in the 
providence of God to cut this Gordian 
knot. None so strong as he to bulwark 
the mighty fulminations of this Vatican 
stronghold. Suffice it to say that the Papal 
yoke was lifted from English necks, but in 
the wake of their deliverance there raged 
an insane religious intolerance. 

During the short reign of the youthful 
Edward VI., a National Church was form- 
ulated amid spirited controversies, bitter 
asperities, — yea, vile vituperations and ma- 
lignant invective. The Anglican Church 
was framed upon a union of Church and 
State, with a revision of ancient creeds, 
which, although divested of certain forms 
and ceremonials, was still permeated with 
the supersititous symbols of the old Pagan 
worship, and with private judgment 
chained to the stake. The Puritans de- 
sired to purify the Church, and imbue it 
with the primitive simplicity of its early 

days, as under the tuition of the gentle 
Galilean prophet. They wished to eliminate 
tempo'ral sovereignty, let the word of God 
alone be arbiter, and the individual con- 
science prevail. This created a schism in 
the Church with which they still remained 
connected, but with whose service or ritual 
they did not conform. They were, there- 
fore, regarded as a sect or faction, known 
as non-conformists, and nicknamed "Puri- 
tans." Because of their non-conformity, 
they could not enjoy the full privileges of 
the Churchmen. They were a distinct 
caste, segregated from, and yet a part of 
their church brothers, like the Gulf 
Stream flowing through the ocean waters, 
and yet not of them. 

We are all familiar with the mourning, 
desolation and woe wrought by the bloody 
hand of Queen Mary, who succeeded her 
half-brother upon the throne of England 
in 1553. The fires of Smithfield were 
kindled alike upon Separatists and Puri- 
tans, and though the reign of Elizabeth, 
beginning in 1558, abated the fiery baptism, 
yet violent sectarian contentions raged in 
the English Church. The prison doors 
opened for those who had suffered for 
conscience's sake, and many exiles returned 
to their native land, but it soon became 
evident that Elizabeth intended to adopt 
arbitrary measures toward her Puritan sub- 
jects. 'The test of loyalty" in that age 
"was undeviating conformity to the can- 
ons of the church and implicit obedience 
to the mandates of the Crown." 

The Puritans began to form separate 
congregations about 1567, and in 1572 the 
"first-born of all presbyteries" was estab- 
lished at Wandworth in S irrey. About the 
period 1592, there were four classes or re- 
ligious parties in England — the Catholics, 
or adherents of the Church of Rome ; the 
members of the Anglican or Established 
Church ; the Puritans ; and the Separatists, 
or Independents. To the last party be- 
longed the Plymouth Colonists, of 1620. 
The Puritans were the founders of the 
Massachusetts Colony, who came to Naum- 
keag, or Salem, in 1628, under the charge 
of Mr. John Endicott. 

The unprincipled James I. of Scotland 



took possession of the English Crown in 
1603. Educated in the school of Knox, 
with his Presbyterian training, the Puri- 
tans had strong reason to rejoice in the 
prospect of royal favor. But again they 
were doomed to disappointment. On Jan- 
uary 14. 1004. at the Hampton Court Con- 
ference, speaking of the Puritans he said: 
"I shall make them conform themselves, 
or I will harry them out of the land, or 
else do worse." Later he boasted in a 
letter to a Scotch friend, that he had 
"soundly peppered off the Puritans." 
Harry them he did, with the bloodhounds 
of persecution, Independents and Puritans, 
until they were again obliged to flee their 
land, and seek an asylum in Holland; sub- 
sequently to brave the perils of a tem- 
pestuous ocean, the privations of a virgin 
land, and the terrors of a savage people, 
to establish their principles of religious 
freedom, and ultimately to become the 
founders of the mightiest republic ever 
placed upon the face of the earth. 

The predominating note of the earliest 
Massachusetts or Bay Colonists was the 
spirit of commercialism and utilitarian in- 
dustrialism, the corner stone of the future 
vast prosperity of the Commonwealth. In 
"A Description of New England," by Cap- 
tain John Smith, published in England in 
1616, he describes the countrie of the 
Massachusetts, the "paradise of all those 
parts," which, with its sandy cliffs and 
quarries of stone "resembleth the Coast of 
Devonshire," and the greatness and won- 
derful quantity of its fish, "the maine 
staple, from hence to bee extracted for the 
present to produce the rest, which, how- 
ever, may seem a mean and a base com- 
moditie." He says, "Could I have but 
means to transport a colonie I would 
rather live here than anywhere." 

He then pays a tribute to the wealth 
and state of the Hollanders, at that time a 
great nation, "the carriers of the ocean and 
the harvesters of the sea," saying: "Never 
could the Spaniard with all his Mynes of 
golde and silver, pay his debts, his friends 
and army, halfe so truly, as the Hollanders 
still have done by this contemptible trade 
of fish. But this is their Myne ; and the 

Sea the source of those silvered streams 
of all their vertue ; which hath made them 
now the very miracle of Industrie, the pat- 
tern of perfection for these affaires ; and 
the benefit of fishing is that Primum mo- 
bile that turns all their Spheres to this 
height of plentie, strength, honour and ad- 
miration. Herring, Cod, and Ling, is that 
triplicitie that makes their wealth and 
shippings multiplicities." 

This narrative, quaint in phraseology 
and spelling, with its strong plea for coloni- 
zation, and crude accompanying map, stim- 
ulated British commercialism to extend its 
fishing industry to the shores of the New 
World, whose waters were swarming with 
the finny tribe. 

Soon after the Pilgrim Fathers had es- 
tablished themselves upon the New Eng- 
land shores, several merchants in Dorches- 
ter, in the south of England, became in- 
terested in the cod fishing industry along 
the New England coast. About 1623 or '24 
they established a fishing stage and a plan- 
tation trading-post at Cape Anne, the east- 
ern extremity of what is now Essex 
County, Massachusetts. The Dorchester 
Company organized a trading company, 
with a common stock of 3,000 pounds, and 
sent out a few adventurers, to this place. 
This Company was the progenitor of our 
great crop of trusts, which in many recent 
cases have proved so untrustful. Roger 
Conant, who had been a member of the 
Plymouth Colony, but who had voluntarily 
removed to Nantasket, and whom history 
and tradition invest with the high virtues 
of sobriety, prudence and integrity, was 
made Governor of the little colony, Thomas 
Gardner, plantation overseer, and John 
Tilley, superintendent of the fishery. The 
patent of the lands at Cape Anne was 
held under the Plymouth Colony. 

This little pioneer fishing settlement, 
whose slogan was the mighty cod fish, not 
proving advantageous to the Dorchester 
promoters, they abandoned the undertak- 
ing. However, this was the germ or seed 
that later grew into a flourishing colony 
stalk, flowering and fruiting into the grand 
Commonwealth harvest. 

Governor Conant remained in constant 



communication with his relatives and 
friends in Dorchester, and deeply deploy- 
ing their religious oppressions, he con- 
ceived the project of establishing a colony 
in the New World where freedom of wor- 
ship could be enjoyed by them. He there- 
fore selected "a pleasant and fruitful neck 
of land" at Naumkeag, the present Salem, 
removing there with a few chosen asso- 
ciates, and erecting a small plantation. 
In the meantime he wrote letters to the 
Dorchester Company, urging it to finance 
a reputable colony to be sent out to Naum- 
keag. Rev. John White, a non-conformist 
clergyman, was the most active in- pro- 
moting the enterprise and his name should 
ever be held in veneration as one of the 
chief founders of the Massachusetts Col- 
ony, and he has well been named,' the 
"Father of the Colony." He started a 
large discussion throughout the kingdom, 
and invincible to all opposit'on he induced 
many of the landed gentry and London 
capitalists to contribute toward the sup- 
port of a plantation to be composed of 
men of integrity and worth, who would 
take their families and build up homes in 
the New World. 

Charles I. was then King of England, 
and the Puritans were becoming more and 
more restless under his usurpations. Sev- 
eral of them welcoming this colonization 
scheme as an escape from the disturbed 
condition of affairs in the kingdom, agreed 
to become members of the expedition. Ar- 
rangements were perfected, and on March 
19, 1628, some gentlemen in and about 
Dorchester obtained a patent of territory 
in America from "the Council established 
at Plymouth, in the County of Devon, for 
the planting, ruling and governing of New 
England in America," usually called ''The 
Council of New England." The land cov- 
ered in this patent was "bounded northerly 
by a line three miles north of the Merri- 
mac river, southerly by a line three miles 
south of the Charles river, and of every 
part thereof, in the Massachusetts Bay; 
and in length between the described 
breadth, from the Atlantic Ocean to the 
South Sea," so-called. In order to avord 
perplexing embarrassments over former 

grants of this territory, or for other rea- 
sons, a second patent was obtained, bear- 
ing date May 30, 1628. The Company or- 
ganized by choosing Matthew Cradock as 
Governor, Thomas Goffe as Deputy Gov- 
ernor, with a Board of Assistants. It had 
ample resources at its command, and 
selected one of its own members, John 
Endicott, Esq., "a Puritan of the sternest 
mould," to take charge of the expedition. 
He willingly accepted the trust, taking 
with him his wife, who was a cousin of 
Governor Cradock, and his children to this 
far-off land. 

On June 20, 1628, this little company of 
Argonauts set sail from Weymouth, Eng- 
land, in the good ship "Abigail," com- 
manded by Henry Gauden, under instruc- 
tions to proceed to Naumkeag, to "carry on 
the plantations of the Dorchester agents," 
and to "make way for the settling of an- 
other colony in Massachusetts." The voy- 
age was long and tedious, as ocean voy- 
ages were at that time. They arrived at 
Naumkeag on September 6, 1628, and on 
September 13th, Mr. Endicott wrote to 
Governor Cradock informing him of their 
safe arrival on the shores of the New 

They were warmly welcomed by Conant 
and his few trusty planters, who, almost 
at the last extremity of food supplies, had 
been preserving the breath of life in the 
Naumkeag settlement, and have been well 
called "the sentinels of Puritanism on the 
Bay of Massachusetts." The names of 
eight of these old planters have been pre- 
served to posterity, viz : Roger Conant. 
Goodman Norman and son, Willliam Al- 
len, Walter Knight, John Woodbury, 
Peter Palfrey and John Balch. 

Preparations for building were at once 
made, and Endicott sent men to take down 
and remove to Naumkeag the frame house 
at Cape Anne, which had been built by 
the Dorchester Company. 

This little pioneer band of Puritans had 
left influential and active freinds behind 
them. The gentry and wealthy merchants 
all over the realm had become interested 
in the Adventure, and were actively en- 
gaged in securing a charter for the Bay 

25 2 


Colony. The Earl of Warwick and Lord 
Dorchester, one of the Secretaries of State, 
were especially influential in their behalf; 
able lawyers advocated their cause. King- 
Charles I., in his greed for money, was 
ready to bite at the golden bait, and the 
coveted charter, under the title, "The Gov- 
ernment and Company of Massachusetts 
Bay in New England," passed the seals 
March 4. 1629. Mr. Cradock writing to 
Mr. Endicott, April 7th, makes mention 
of privileges which "we from His Majes- 
ty's special grace, with great cost, favor of 
personages of note, and much labor have 
obtained." The historians tell us this char- 
ter cost the Company 2,000 pounds sterl- 
ing, a pound sterling at that time being 
equivalent to six or eight pounds at the 
present time. 

During the year 1629 six ships came 
over from England bearing accessions to 
the new colony. They were the "Talbot," 
Captain Thomas Beecher; the "George 
Bonaventure," Captain Thomas Coxe ; the 
"Lion's Whelp," Captain John Gibbs, a 
"neat and nimble ship," owned by the 
Dorchester Company, and designed to car- 
ry forty planters from Dorsetshire and 
Somersetshire ; the "Four Sisters," of 
London, Captain Roger Harman ; the 
"Mayflower," of Yarmouth, Captain Wil- 
liam Pierse; and the "Pilgrim," of Lon- 
don, Captain William Woolridge. The 
destination of most of their passengers 
was "Naumkeag and the Bay," although 
thirty-five members of the Leyden Church 
came over in the "Mayflower" and the 
"Talbot," as additions to the Plymouth 

Among the notable passengers that 
came over in the "Talbot" (1629) was the 
Rev. Francis Higginson, of Leicestershire, 
"a graduate of Emanuel College, and a, 
man mighty in the Scriptures and learned 
in the tongues," who was to minister to 
the spiritual welfare of the colony. A few 
months later he thus writes home: "When 
we first came to Na-hum-kek we found 
about half a score of houses, and a fair 
house newly built for the Governor. There 
are in all of us, both old and new plant- 
er-,, about three hundred, whereof two 

hundred of them settled at Na-hum-kek, 
now called Salem, and the rest have plant- 
ed themselves at Mathusilets Bay, begin- 
ning to build a town there, which we do 
call Cherton, or Charlestown." 

By this time a provisional government 
had been instituted, styled "The Governor 
and Council of London's Plantation in the 
Massachusetts Bay, in New England," of 
which John Endicott had been chosen 
Governor — Governor of the Colony, but 
not of the Company, which were two dis/«- 
tinct bodies, the Colony being dependent 
upon the Company. This Council con- 
sisted of thirteen members, the numeral 13 
evidently being the mascot number for our 
brave republic ; therefore we may well 
denominate it as the national number. 

We cannot take leave of the Salem Col- 
ony until it has come into possession of 
its charter, which was brought over in the 
"Arbella," that sailed from Southamp- 
ton, England, on the 8th of April, 1630. 
The "Arbella" formerly the "Eagle," com- 
manded by Captain Peter Milbourne, who 
was the admiral of a fleet of eleven ves- 
sels that rendezvoused at Southampton, 
and came over about the same time, the 
others being the "Jewell," the "Ambrose," 
the "Mayflower," the "Whale," the "Tal- 
bot," the "Hopewell," the "William and 
Francis," the "Trial," the "Charles," and 
the "Success." They were "filled with 
passengers of all occupations, skilled in 
all kinds of faculties, needful for the. 
planting of a new colony," and coming, 
we are told, "some from the West of Eng- 
land, but the greatest number came from 
about London." 

The "Arbella" had a cold and tempestu- 
ous voyage, lasting sixty-one days. She 
and the "Jewell" were the first of the fleet 
to arrive, sighting Cape Anne on the nth 
of June, nearing Naumkeag on the 12th, 
but on account of adverse winds, they did 
not warp into the harbour and disembark 
their passengers until the 14th of June. 

In the "Arbella" were many people of 
distinction, whose hearts were consecrated 
to civil liberty, who became mighty fac- 
tors in the development of New England, 
and have left to follow them a lono- roll of 



proud descendants. Among these notable 
personages were John Winthrop, who be- 
came the first Governor under the Charter, 
and the first of the united Company and 
Colony; Thomas Dudley, steward of the 
Earldom of Lincoln, the Deputy Governor, 
and afterwards Colonial Governor; his 
wife, Lady Dorothy Yorke, of royal line- 
age; Simon Bradstreet, son of a non- 
conformist minister of the same name, of 
Horbling, Lincolnshire, who had recently 
married Anne Dudley, afterward notable 
as the "first poetess of America," and 
called "the grandmother of American lit- 
erature" ; Isaac Johnson, Esq., and the 
Lady Arbella, his wife, daughter of the 
Earl of Lincoln ; Sir Richard Salstonstall, 
of Yorkshire, who became the founder of 
Watertown, Connecticut; John Humphrey, 
of Dorsetshire, brother-in-law of Johnson, 
and a prominent lawyer ; William Codding- 
ton, of Lincolnshire, who founded a promi- 
nent mercantile house in Boston, and later 
became one of the fathers of Rhode Island ; 
Roger Ludlow, and others of brain and 
brawn, wise, learned, and genial men and 
women. To the hands of Winthrop, Dud- 
ley, Bradstreet, Johnson, Ludlow, Increase 
Nowell and William Pynchon was en- 
trusted the precious charter, which was to 
be transferred to the Colony, and blend 
the two into one body. 

The "Mayflower," the 'Abigail," the 
"Arbella"! — three immortal vessels, whose 
names should be blazoned high on our na- 
tional ensign. Each with its hostages of 
love and exemplars of all the domestic 
virtues, to gild the family state,— Priscilla 
Molines, Dame Endicott, Anne Dudley 

I Bradstreet, each a shining star whom their 
descendants are proud to emulate. 

These early Puritans were gentlemen 
and gentlewomen of distinguished families 

1 and ample estate, many of them having the 
yearly revenues of large lands in England. 
They were high-minded men and women, 
of fine education and culture. But deli- 
cately nurtured, the harsh climate, famine 
and lack of pure water soon wrought 
havoc among them. Many appalling deaths 
occurred, among the most deplored of 
which were those of the venerable Rev. 

Francis Higginson, and the Lady Arbella 
Johnson, followed one month later by that 
of her husband, Isaac Johnson, Esq. 

Puritan and Pilgrim soon became one 
people. The same "Puritan church-bell," 
the beat of the drum, called them to wor- 
ship, and the incense of prayer rose up to 
God from the same altar. We cannot now 
further follow the devious paths of these 
builders of the Commonwealth of New 
England. Again the beat of the drum 
rallied them at Concord and Lexington 
and Bunker Hill, and "the shot that was 
heard 'round the world" drew into the 
loom the pine cone of Pemaquid, the 
golden Manhattan reel, the Quaker drab, 
the Virginia blues, and other threads, and 
lo, the multiplicities of color became a tri- 
plicitie of red, white and blue, and the 
tapestry woof was anon transformed into 
a starry banner, whose folds in course of 
time floated over a great and prosperous 
nation of seventy million souls. 

"Let us take to ourselves a lesson, 

No lesson can braver be, 
Of the ways of the tapestry weavers, 

On the other side of the sea. 

"Above their head the pattern hangs, 

They study it with care, 
The while their fingers deftly weave, 

Their eyes are fastened there. 

"They tell this curious thing besides, 
Of the patient, plodding weaver, 

He works on the wrong side evermore, 
But works for the right side ever. 

"It is only when his work is done, 
And the web is loosed and turned, 

That he sees the real handiwork 
His marvelous skill has learned. 

"Ah, the sight of its delicate beauty ! 

How it pays him for all its cost ! 
No rarer, daintier work than his 

Was ever done by the frost. 

"The years of man are nature's looms, 
T et down from the place of the sun, 

Wherein we are weaving alway, 
Till the mystic work is done. 

'Sometimes blindly — but weaving surely, 

Each for himself his fate ; 
We m°v not s p e how the right side looks, 

We must o r ten weave — and wait." 

Double Trouble. By Herbert Quick. 

A strange story of double personality. 
Florian Amidon goes to sleep one night, 
and discovers, on awaking, that five years 
have passed since he went to sleep. He 
learns, through a clairvoyant, that an- 
other personality, a man named Eugene 
Brassfield, has had possession of his body 
during those five years, and papers which 
he finds in his possession corroborate her 

He also learns that he has, under the 
Brassfield personality, become engaged to 
a girl whom, as Amidon, he does not 
know at all, and that he has business in- 
terests in Bellevale, the town where he 
lived as Brassfield, which render his im- 
mediate presence there imperative. The 
amusing complications caused by his ig- 
norance of things which as Brassfield he 
is supposed to know are seemingly endless, 
but the ending, when it comes, is a happy 
one, and the reader will enjoy every page 
of the story, for it is told in a bright racy 
wav, with many a laugh "on the side." 
(The Bobbs-Merrill Company, $1.50.) 

The Boy and the Outlaw. By Thomas 
J. L. McManns. A tale of John Brown's 
raid on Harper's Ferry. Illustrated. 
This is a good story which every boy 
will enjoy. Clay Angel, a typical country 
boy, and pining for an "eddication," comes 
across a wounded mulatto, one of John 
Brown's band, hidden in some bushes 
which grow along the tow-path of the 
canal. Although at first much alarmed, 
while talking with him he becomes inter- 
ested in the fugitive and decides, at great 
risk to himself, to hide him from the 
officers of the law. The adventures of 
these two central characters form the 
basis of the plot, but from the point of 
view of pure amusement many of the 
minor characters, sncli as Molloy "the ir- 
repressible" and oilier "hands that work 
on the dam," each one of them a character- 
study not to mention the various typical 
old-fashioned negroes depicted with a keen 
appreciation of their little weaknesses- 
will be found as interesting as the two 
principals. (The Grafton Press, 70 Fifth 
Ave., Xew York. ) 

From Bull Run to Chancellorsville. 

By Newton Martin Curtis. 

This is the story of the Sixteenth New 
York Infantry, together with the personal 
reminiscences of the author. 

General Curtis's volume is not a dry mili- 
tary history. It tells the story of the part 
taken by the Sixteenth New York Infan- 
try in the campaigns from Bull Run to 
Chancellorsville, when the regiment was 
mustered out and its members promptly 
re-enlisted "for the war" ; also the record 
of the Army of the Potomac during this 
period, with the operations of its various 
corps and their subdivisions in each of the 
battle. Woven into the narrative of march- 
ing and battle, are personal reminiscences 
and many a good story is told of men and 
events. The reader is, as it were, invited 
to a "camp-fire" and listens to stories of 
privation and suffering, of heroic deeds 
and unselfish devotion to duty and to 
friendship. There is a vivid description 
of a night on a battlefield, and many an- 
other picture, both humorous and grave. 

The book is illustrated with many por- 
traits of comrades in arms and is of pecu- 
liar interest to all soldiers of the Civil 
War. (G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York 
and London.) 

The Connecticut River and the Valley 
of the Connecticut. By Edwin M. 

This handsomely bound and profusely il- 
lustrated volume contains a descriptive and 
historical sketch of the longest river in 
New England and one of the fairest val- 
leys in the country. Those who have read 
"Walks and Rides in the Country Around 
Boston/' "Historic Pilgrimages in New 
England," or "Literary Pilgrimages in 
New England," are already familiar with 
the author's charming style and this latest 
volume from Mr. Bacon's pen shows no 
less painstaking study and careful research. 
The picturesque Connecticut Valley has 
been the scene of so much of the history 
of this country, especially of the formative 
periods, that its story cannot help being of 
interest to all Americans. It is a thrilling 
story,- this narration of Indian and colo- 
nial wars; of the evolution of democratic 




government; of the pioneer development 
of internal improvements and industries; 
of the planting and upbuilding of many 
and varied institutions of learning, and 
withal of the growth and unfolding of the 
genuine American character. The story 
begins with the Dutch discovery of this 
river, which the native Indians called the 
Quoeh-ta-cut, the "Long Tidal River," six 
years before the advent of the Pilgrims at 
Plymouth, and deals with the settlement 
of its banks, its navigation, and its topog- 
raphy — a wonderfully interesting story. 

"Thus we have followed the course of 
the 'Beautiful River' of which _£he poet 
whose name is most closely connected with 
it sings : 

'From that lone lake, the sweetest of 

the chain 
That links the mountain to the mighty 

Fresh from the rock and swelling by 

the tree, 
Rushing to meet and dare and brave 

the sea- 
Fair, noble, glorious river in thy wave 
The sunniest slopes and sweetest pas- 
tures lave ; 
The mountain torrent with its wintry 

Springs from its home and leaps upon 

thy shore.' " 
It was Dr. Dwight's observation a hun- 
dred years ago. that the inhabitants of this 
valley then possessed a common character, 
and in all the different states through 
which it extends resembled each othet 
more than their fellow citizens living on 
the coast resembled them. This similarity 
he found to be derived from their descent, 
their education, their local circumstances, 
and their mutual interests. "People," he 
sagely remarked, "who live on a pleasant 
surface and on a soil fertile and easy of 
cultivation, usually possess softer disposi- 
tions and manners than those who from 
inhabiting rougher grounds acquire rough- 
er minds and coarser habits. Even the 
beauty of the scenerv becomes a source of 
pride as well as of enjoyment." So it 
appeared that there was no tract in which 
learning was more, and more uniformly, 
encouraged, or where sobriety and de- 
corum were more generally demanded or 
exhibited. "Steadiness of character, soft- 
ness of manners, a disposition to read, re- 
spect for the laws and magistrates, a 
strong sense of liberty blended with a 
strong sense of indispensable importance 
of energetic government," were all pre- 
dominant in this region. These original 
tracts survive, but not unchanged. The 
smoothing of the hand of time has passed 
over both people and landscape, softening 

a rugged feature here and there, removing 
some asperities, replacing with the beauty 
of cultivation the wilder beauty of nature 
in the rough ; and yet leaving to the in- 
habitants and to the scenery those pictur- 
esque qualities which, we hope, will for- 
ever be associated with the "Valley of the 
Connecticut." (G. P. Putnam's Sons, New 
York and London.) 

The Cynic's Rules of Conduct. By 

Chester Field, Jr. 

A nice little book of cynical froth which 
can best be gauged by the following selec- 
tions : 

Take care of the luxuries and the neces- 
sities will take care of themselves. 

The chief duty of the best man is to 
prevent the groom from escaping before 
the ceremony. 

If a man's worth doing at all, he's 
worth doing well. 

When alone in Paris behave as if all 
the world were your mother-in-law. 

Remember, too, that perhaps you are 
not the sort of husband that father used 
to make. 

Never let your right hand know what 
your left hand does. 

An engagement ring should not be 
passed around like the "buck" in a poker 
game. "New girl, new ring," is the rule 
in select society. 

(Henry Altemus & Company, Philadel- 
phia, 50 cents.) 

Mountain Wild Flowers of America. 

By Julia W. Henshaw. 

One of the most attractive volumes of 
the year is this "simple and popular guide 
to the names and descriptions of the 
flowers that bloom above the clouds. 
Handsomely bound and printed and illus- 
trated with a hundred remarkably clear 
and beautiful reproduced photographs, the 
book is indeed a work of art. _ No less 
artistic is the author's style of writing and 
treatment of her subject. The whole of 
her preface might well be quoted so de- 
lightful is the picture which it paints, but 
just a glimpse will suffice to reveal its 

"The paths, the woods, the heavens, the 

Are not a world to-day, 
But. just a place God made for us 

In which to play." 

So we wander in search of the moun- 
tain wild flowers, following the trails that 
lead to the Alpine meadows, listening to 
the bird-songs as we pass, wrapt in the 
peace of the perfect hills, while all about 
us the infinite beauty of things created, 
the magic of the summer skies, the 



strength of the far-Hung' bastions, the 
purity of the eternal snows, and the glory 
of the flowers that bloom above the 
clouds bid us remember that we are walk- 
ing "In the Freedom of the Garden 
Wild" with "God of the open Air." 

"High up where the snow-crowned 
mountain monarchs rule over an enchant- 
ing land of foliage, ferns and fungi, out- 
spanned in sunshine beneath the broad 
blue tent of the western sky, the Alpine 
meadows are ablaze witr starry blossoms. 
Held close in the curved arms of the 
cliffs, these patches of verdure and won- 
drous-tinted flowers are a revelation to 
the traveller. From the mountains of the 
Yukon and Alaska to the hills of Nova 
Scotia and New England, in the Rockies, 
the Selkirks, and the vast mountain 
ranges of Montana, Dakota, Washington, 
Oregon. California and other western 
states one will find that the same miracle 
has been wrought." 

"As this book is intended more for the 
use of the general public than for botan- 
ists, the flowers herein described are clas- 
sified according to color, and without 
especial reference to their scientific rela- 
tionship ; for the first attribute of a plant 
that attracts the traveller's eye is invari- 
ably its color, his first question usually 
being, What is that red flower? (or blue 
flower, or yellow flower? as the case may 
be). Of order, genus and species he 
probably knows nothing, and therefore the 
descriptions given in this guide to the 
mountain wild flowers are so simply and 
clearly worded that any plants indexed 
may be readily located in one of the color 
sections, together with its name and chief 
characteristics." A page is devoted to an 
explanation of the few botanical terms 
used. To anyone interested in the study 
of mountain flora this book will be of 
great assistance. (Ginn & Company, Bos- 
ton, $2.00.) 

Hygiene of the Nursery. By Louis 

Starr, M. D. 

So popular has this helpful guide-book 
for young mothers become that it has now 
reached its seventh edition. Well indexed 
and written by a physician of good stand- 
ing the information contained is thorough- 
ly reliable and easily accessible. The 
book deals with the "General regime and 
feeding of infants and children; massage 
and the domestic management of the ordi- 
nary emergencies of early life," and in 
the eleven chapters which this little vol- 
ume contains the author has attempted to 
point out in popular phraseology "a series 
of hygienic rules which if applied to the 
nursling, can hardly fail to maintain 
health, give vigor to the frame and so 

lessen the susceptibility to disease." In 
this latest edition "the subject matter has 
been carefully revised, and amended 
wherever necessary to keep abreast with 
the advances and improvements constantly 
being made in the methods of managing 
infants and children. Special attention 
has been given to the chapter on "Food," 
and numerous additions have been made 
to the "Dietary" and to the section de- 
voted to "Emergencies." So much fun 
has been made of "Rule" and "Book" 
babies that it is quite surprising to find 
how nearly the rules laid down in this 
little volume coincide with the instinctive 
demands of the normal nursling. (P. 
Blakiston's Son & Company, 1012 Wal- 
nut Street, Philadelphia.) 

The Watermead Affair. By Robert Barr. 
The story of John Trumble, the Earl 
of Watermead, who is so provokingly, 
amusingly, and yet on the whole charm- 
ingly reckless that, what with his fines for 
swift auto-driving, and expenses incurred 
by kindred follies, he awakes one morn- 
ing to find himself bankrupt. The calm 
way in which he takes his ill fortune 
after the first shock, and what he does 
about it, told in Robert Barr's inimitable 
manner will be appreciated by all who 
read them. Those who are attracted by 
the pleasing cover announcing the book 
to be "A Love Story" will not be dis- 
appointed, for the hero, in the course of 
his adventures, falls in love with the 
sweetest of girls, and they are "happy 
ever afterwards." (Henry Altemus & 
Company, Philadelphia, i2mo, decorated, 
50 cents. 

The Cynic's Dictionary. By Harry 


A brief, prettily printed little book of 
epigrams, decorations by Guernsey Moore. 
The following may be taken as a sample 
of the wise and witty saying : "An ac- 
quaintance is the friend who borrowed 
money from you." "Love is the banked 
fires of passion." 

"Cupid gets blamed for many errors of 

"A woman is as old as her lover thinks 
she is." 

"A breach-of-promise suit is advertising 
a lost opportunity." 

"Benedicks are penitent bachelors." 

"Affinity is the man a woman travels all 
the way to South Dakota to get a divorce 

"Alimony is the grass-widow's pension." 

"P>- : gamy is its own punishment." 

Mfenry Altemus & Company, Philadel- 
phia, 50 cents.) 

By Louise Lewin Matthews 

Autumnal winds grow dire and chilled, 

And evening skies are wild and stern, 
The murmur of each brook is filled, 

With sighings for the dying fern. 
The world looks cold and days are dread, 

As Time leads on his changing hours, 
For all the earth is dank and sere, 

Bereft of Autumn's golden flowers. 


United States Senator from Connecticut electe 
1905 to succeed late O. H. Piatt. Speakei 
Connecticut House of Representatives iSg< 

member of Congress 
Congress 1904. 

1903-5, re-elected to 59t 


United States Senator from Connecticut, 1905-11, 
Republican, Mayor of Hartford 1880-8, Gov- 
ernor of Connecticut 1889-93. 


United States Senator from New Hampshire 
1881-1909, Republican, member of New Hamp- 
shire legislature 1872-3, 1891, State Senator 
1878-80, Member of Congress 1885-9. 


United States Senator from Vermont, 1900-9, 
Republican, member of Vermont legislature, 
1876-89, State Senator 1878-80, Governor 1S88- 


United States Senator from Maine 1881-1907, 
Republican, member of Maine legislature 1861- 
2-7, member of Congress 1871-81, Chairman of 
Commerce Commission of Senate. 

New England Magazine 

November, 1906 

Volume XXXV 


Number 3 

The Loyalty of the Senate 

By David S. Barry 

THE present popular outcry 
against the Senate as an un- 
representative body irrespon- 
sive to the will of the people and 
seeking only to perpetuate control of 
one party or dominance of one class 
of our citizenship — the class made 
up of the owners, advocates and de- 
fenders of corporate wealth — may 
sound unfamiliar in the ears of the 
present generation. And that is not 
altogether strange, for the unreason- 
ableness and vindictiveness of the 
present agitation is unparalleled in 
history. Yet assaults upon the 
honor, the usefulness and the Amer- 
icanism of the Senate are as old al- 
most as that body itself. In the 
beginning of the era of criticism 
private character was more sacred 
than now and it was the Senate as 
a body that came in for abuse rather 
than the individual Senators as is 
the case today. 

Just why the Senate should be, 

as is the House of Lords in England, 
the target for prejudicial attack is 
not clear; the most plausible ex- 
planation of the existing fact being 
the belief apparently firmly fixed in 
the human mind that those who are 
elected to offices of honor and trust 
f or long terms cannot be as watch- 
ful and zealous of the rights of the 
people, their masters, as those who 
rre required to return at short inter- 
vals for the approval of the elector- 
ate. This inborn feeling against 
those legislators remote from the 
popular impulse and thus insensible 
to its beatings, and the consequent 
antipathy to the "upper house" of 
the American legislature, finds ex- 
pression whenever there is a demand 
for prompt action on some question 
of "reform" demanded by the people 
at large, often at the instigation of 
demagogic politicians and hastily 
granted by the House of Representa- 
tives, not from conviction that it is 




right, but for fear of the conse- 
quence of their refusal to heed the 
popular clamor. Statesmen whose 
terms of office run but two years 
must be ever alert to the voice of 
public opinion and when in their 
panic they enact legislation that 
fails to appeal to their reason, they 
turn to their constituency and say: 
"Now we have done our duty; it is 
now the Senate to whom you must 
look." And the people do look 
there. Apparently not detecting the 
cowardice and insincerity of their 
direct representatives, anxious for 
re-election, they demand of the Sen- 
ate equally prompt action. Entirely 
overlooking the fact that the Senate 
was created in the wisdom of the 
fathers as a check on the mercurial 
House of Representatives, they de- 
mand that the freedom of debate be 
curtailed and that the subject for 
legislation be enacted until the peo- 
ple are red hot with the excitement 
of the chase. They insist that pro- 
vision be made for permitting the 
"previous question" to be ordered, 
that parliamentary device without 
which business would often come to 
a standstill in the hurly-burly of the 
House of Representatives, but the 
absence of which in the rules of the 
Senate has been the only safeguard 
against the enactment of legislation 
which would have been deplored as 
soon as the blast of those advocat- 
ing it had cooled and the country 
had regained its sober senses. 

As Senator Hoar points out, the 
demand for the "previous question'' 
in the Senate has been fitfully and 
vociferously put forth since it was 
championed by Henry Clay during 
the presidency of John Tyler, at 
which time, singularly enough, it 
was defeated by the Democratic 

minority, who threatened forcible re- 
sistance if necessary to defeat it. 
Generally speaking it has been the 
Democratic party that has since op- 
posed the many attempts to accom- 
plish what Henry Clay failed to do, 
but this is largely if not wholly due 
to the fact that the Republican party 
has been the majority party in the 
Senate during a large part of the 
time since Clay's day and naturally 
exciting opposition to their plans 
and policies by the minority. It is a 
principle enumerated by many au- 
thorities that no measure has ever 
been presented to the Senate with 
the unwavering support of a majori- 
ty of people that has failed to pass 
that body. It might be going too 
far to attempt to certify from the 
records the accuracy of this asser- 
tion, but it is certain that in recent 
years at least the absence of a clos- 
ure rule — the senatorial designation 
of what in the popular branch is 
known as ordering the previous 
question — has not operated to pre- 
vent the taking of a vote. 

Time and time again the minority 
has resorted to the refuge of seem- 
ingly endless talk to nullify the at- 
tempts of the majority to enact a 
measure of party policy but in 
every case when ordered by the will 
of the people, and sometimes with- 
out their moral support, the majority 
has been in the end victorious. The 
passage of the rate bill is not a case 
in point because it being originally 
a Democratic proposition, although 
taking legislative form under the 
pressure of a Republican President 
upon a Republican Congress, it 
passed the House of Representatives- 
and would have had like support in 
the Senate but for the supposed exi- 
gencies of party politics. 


But it is only necessary to go 
back thirteen years to the summer 
and fall of 1892 to find an illuminat- 
ing illustration of the truth that the 
shutting off of debate cannot defeat 
legislation formed in the interest of 
the people. In August of that year 
President Cleveland called Congress 
together in the dog days so great 
was the necessity for affording some 

relief to the unhappy financial situ- 
ation with its appalling and growing 
record of disaster. The House 
passed the bill to repeal that clause 
of the so-called Sherman bill requir- 
ing the purchase of a certain quan- 
tity of silver each month and the 
business interests of the country de- 
manded its immediate passage by 
the Senate. 




But the free silver men said "no" 
and they said it in a way that 
showed they meant business. They 
were boastful and cock-sure of suc- 
cess, too. because they felt invulner- 
able in their dependence upon the 
unabridgable freedom of debate in 
the Senate. 

One Senator can talk a bill to 
death if his strength holds out, and 
so they w r ere confident. Ignoring 
the unanimous appeal of the con- 
servative press, the resolutions of 
commercial bodies, the dissent of 
countless delegations upon the blist- 
ering capital, they pooh-poohed the 
warnings of disaster and continued 
to talk. 

All sorts of tempting ofTers of 
compromise and cleverly construct- 
ed devices for stopping the flood- 
gate of oratory wearisome to the 
Senate and blighting to the business 
interests as indicated by the daily 
and hourly failures of financial 
houses and the universal shrinkage 
of values, were made, but the minor- 
ity stood firm. When it was seri- 
ously proposed by leaders of the 
conservative element that the wel- 
fare of the country would be the 
justification of Vice-President Mor- 
ton should he listen to the advice of 
a group of his ablest and most ex- 
perienced counsellors and arbitrarily 
refuse to "recognize" a silver Sena- 
tor, it was covertly threatened that 
at the first sign of such a purpose he 
would be dragged from the chair 
and physically prevented from car- 
rying out his purpose. The country 
was aroused as never before nor 
since, perhaps, over a legislative 
controversy but in the end in spite 
of threats and peacefully and in par- 
liamentary order the bill was passed 
and was entered in the statute books 

before the first fall of snow. It was 
a great victory for parliamentary 
authority and a convincing proof of 
the soundness of the theory upon 
which the dual form of national leg- 
islature was created, a form which 
according to Zellman is the quintes- 
sense of human wisdom in govern- 
mental affairs. 

Much of the criticism of the 
United States Senate as a body is 
based on popular ignorance of the 
laws and the rules and regulations 
which control it. So much has been 
said in condemnation and ridicule 
of the "senatorial tradition," "sena- 
torial courtesy" and of the honors 
and emoluments attaching to that 
"aristocratic" office, so far removed 
from the control of the people, that 
it is really coming to be regarded 
as corrupt and its individual mem- 
bers venal and conscienceless to the 
last degree. The yellow newspapers 
and the sensational magazines are 
not alone responsible for this state 
of public opinion which, perhaps, is 
not to be wondered at when such a 
high-minded, brilliant and influen- 
tial editor as Henry Watterson of 
the Louisville Courier-Journal will 
persistently make the assertion that 
the bulk of the money appropriated 
to purchase the rights of the French 
Canal Co. as a preliminary to the 
construction of an interoceanic 
water-way by the Uniteci States was 
divided among the "gray wolves of 
the Senate" who secured the pass- 
age of the bill. It is this sort of 
reckless and utterly unfounded as- 
sertion that poisons the public mind 
against our most distinguished legis- 
lative body and creates the im- 
pression in the minds of the unintel- 
ligent and the unthinking, or pur- 
posely uninformed, portion of the 


people that its members are 
"grafters," owing to the fact that a 
few Senators have been convicted 
of wrong-doing of a kind that has 
been prevalent in public life in all 
countries and in all parties since the 
world began and for which until re- 
cently, for blemishes undetected, the 
Senate has been held up to public 
scorn as a veritable nest of thieves. 
It is a fact testified to by public 
men who have held over from a past 
generation that never since the 


United States government was 
formed has honesty among its pub- 
lic servants been as general as now. 
The fact is that in recent years the 
rascals are being hunted down more 
ruthlessly than ever before. They 
are not only being turned out, a 
process once so popular, but they 
are being turned in — to the pene- 
tentiary — hence the popular im- 
pression, which is not correct, that 
they are more numerous than for- 


Not one in ten of the Senators to- 
day has ever been suspected of evil, 
much less accused and convicted. 
There are black sheep in the Senate 
as elsewhere and it is the noise they 
make in being exposed and driven 
forth that is responsible largely for 
the public suspicion of the body as 
a whole. There are as few thieves 
as millionaires in the Senate. Col- 
lectively it is a body of poor and 
honest and relatively able men. 
There are a few there whose for- 
tunes have been dishonestly made 
and others whose intelligence is not 
of a high order. But it is equally 
true that the poor and hones l sena- 
tors far outnumber the rich and dis- 
honest and that there has never been 
a time since the foundation of the 
government when the Senate could 
boast a greater number of able men, 
proportionally than are here to-day. 

The great men of fifty years ago 
were so few as to be in a class by 

themselves, and they occupied at all 
times the center of the stage. To- 
day profound lawyers and masters 
of vast commercial affairs, whose 
practical experience enables them 
to deal adequately with new ques- 
tions arising from the amazing 
growth and fabulous prosperity of 
the country, answer to every name 
on the roll-call. 

It is the consensus of opinion of 
thoughtful Senators and Represent- 
atives who know whereof they speak 
that the speeches delivered in the 
Senate at the session just closed 
on the rate bill are unprecedented 
for a display of general and expert 




knowledge in the party, lawyers and 
laymen, and intelligent comprehen- 
sion of the relations between the 
government and the people and the 



exposition of the constitution and 
fundamental law. 

Unlike the House of Representa- 
tives, which probably because it is 
answerable each two years to the 
people for its acts lies nearer the 
popular heart, the Senate of the 
United States is bound in its pro- 


ceedings by no hard and fast rules, 
and because of this fact cannot be 
placed under the control of any one 
man or any set of men. Each Sena- 
tor is a law unto himself and no 
combination of his colleagues, un- 
less it be a combination of majority 
ican be made against him or against 
a cause he champions. 

In the House, the committee on 
Rules, composed of the Speaker-ex- 
officio, two members of the majority 
side and two of the minority have 
jnder the Reed code, now universal- 
ly accepted as the standard, abso- 
ute control of the House, subject of 
:ourse to a party revolt which but 


seldom occurs. The two minority 
members are properly helpless and 
so the "triumvirate" is invulnerable. 

Any party measure can be forced 
through by the adoption of a "spe- 
cial" rule through the instrumentali- 
ty of the "previous question.' This 
system is necessary in a body of 
three hundred and eighty-seven 
members and the result is that they 
all flock in and out like sheep follow- 
ing the tinkle of the bell on the 

In the Senate the Committee on 
Rules does nothing with regard to 
legislation. The Vice-President, the 
presiding officer of the body has no 
power whoever except to vole in 
case of a tie. He is not even a mem- 
ber of a committee. There is no 
only chosen leader and moreover 
there is among the Republicans who 
have for so long constituted the 
majority no bowing to the nod of 


King Caucus 
honor of the 
who enter it 

In the House the 

caucus to bind those 

absolute. In the 


Senate the Republicans have nor for 
years held a caucus in the strict 
meaning of the word. Their con- 
sultations in party politics are ' 'con- 
ferences" where each Senator is free 
to express his opinion and which in- 
stead of adopting a plan of proced- 
ure binding upon every Senator 
present, adjourns from day to day 
until a mutual agreement is reached, 
when plainly a binding resolution is 
not nece.35ir>. 

There is in the Senate no party 
spirit, and 3 ct all are held together 
in loyal and determined support of 
whatever measure the majority fa- 

The title of Leader of 'he Senate 
has long been conceded Ly common 
consent to Senator Nelson Wil- 

marth Aldrich of Rhode Island anc 
yet it is not he but the venTabM 
and astute William Boyd Allison o: 
Iowa who is chairman of the caucus 
a purely nominal office growing oul 
of the necessity of having someone 
to call the Senators together and tc 
preside at the deliberations. A mys- 
terious and indefinite character is 
given also to the importance of the 


"steering committee," which is popu- 
larly and not altogether erroneous- 
ly supposed to act as a rudder foi 
the "good ship of state" in making 
the rough passage encountered al 
each recurring session. This com- 
mittee, which officially is the "com- 
mittee on organization and the or- 
der of business" is not, as woulc 
naturally be supposed, political ir 
character, but was created and is 
maintained for the purpose, as its 
name implies, of deciding what 
measures shall have precedence and 
to ensure harmony and efficiency ir 



their discussion and enactment. Mr. 
Allison is the chairman of this com- 
mittee also and its members are 
chosen from the chairmen of the 
more important of the regular list 
of committees. The "conference" 
recommends to the "steering com- 
mittee," the "steering committee" 
recommend to the regular commit- 
tees, among whom all proposed leg- 
islation is distributed, the regular 
committees report to the Senate, and 
the Senate, acting under the im- 
petus of this simple but easily work- 
ing bit of parliamentary machinery, 
carries out the will of the majority. 
It is a system whose merit has been 
fully demonstrated and the fact is 
proverbial that the Senate Republi- 
cans wash very little soiled party 
linen in public. The necessary 
cleaning is done in the privacy of 
the conference and steering-commit- 
tee rooms. 

As at present organized, the com- 
mittee on order of business is com- 
posed of, in addition to Chairman 
Allison who is the Chairman also of 
Appropriations, Senators Aldrich, 
Chairman of Finance, Beveridge, 
Chairman of Territories, Cullom, 
Chairman of Foreign Affairs, Per- 
kins, Chairman of Civil Service, El- 
kins, Chairman of Interstate Com- 
merce, Hale, Chairman of Naval Af- 
fairs, Spooner, Chairman of Rules, 
Clark of Wyoming, Chairman of 
Judiciary, and Lodge, Chairman of 
the Philippines. Each of these 
Senators being a member of one of 
the most important committees of 
which he is chairman, they together 
practically control all legislation and 
are able to operate smoothly and ef- 
fectually a piece of parliamentary 
machinery that has won the admira- 
tion of expert authorities. The guid- 

ing spirit of this committee in the 
conference room and of the many 
informal back office gatherings 
where party politics and measures 
are talked over even before a con- 
ference is called is Senator Aldrich 
and the knowledge of this fact has 
caused him to be decorated with the 
unofficial but none the less impres- 
sive title of Leader of the Senate. 

This he is in fact, notwithstand- 
ing that the champions of President 
Roosevelt and of those who have 
disagreed with him on the merits of 
certain public questions, notably the 
rate bill — have of late attempted to 
create the impression that others had 
superseded him. Senators Hall, 
Spooner, Lodge and others who 
have long been among the ablest 
men in the Senate and the most in- 
fluential in matters of party politics 
have been reported as having 
brushed Aldrich aside, but his suc- 
cessful leadership in the rate bill 
fight, unprecedented in its demands 
upon his resources and ability, has 
fastened upon his head the crown 
of leadership so firmly that it can- 
not soon be disturbed. He not only 
saved the contention as to the broad 
court review of the Interstate Com- 
merce Commission with regard to 
the fixing of a freight rate, for which 
the conservative Senators fought, 
but he united his party in support of 
the bill and in addition received the 
commendations of an approving 
though originally dissatisfied and 
threatening President. Mr. Aldrich 
is not a "boss" in the popular sense. 
He is a man of easy temper, vast 
patience and a winning smile. He 
is tactful but not demagogic, as- 
sumes no outward semblance of au- 
thority, and persuades men more by 
his power of adjusting conflicting 



interests to suit all concerned than 
by forcing through a program that 
attracts antagonism. Indeed in the 

Senate, men who are obstinate must 
be cajoled; they cannot be driven. 
The vote of the Senator from Da- 
kota or Montana is as powerful as 
that of the Senator from Rhode 
Island, and in order to succeed with 
what he has in hand the leader must 
make his party colleagues see things 
as he sees them. 

Air. Aldrich's long reign of unpre- 
cedented power is due chiefly to his 
native ability, bolstered by years of 
concentrated study of complex eco- 
nomic questions, that kind of study 
which few men in public life have 
the patience or the ability io give to 
any subject, and above and beyond 
all the possession of a practical 
analytical mind which has years of 
experience in dealing with men of 
affairs in private and public life, and 
a perception so keen that he sees at 
a glance the essential point and 
wastes no time on unimportant con- 
siderations or trifling details. Al- 
though educated in the schools in 
no particular direction Mr. Aid- 
rich's knowledge is comprehensive, 
accurate and profound, and his wits 
are so sharpened by nearly thirty 
years of legislative life that he can 
scan a subject which others would 
have to pore over word for word. 

To sec him sitting in the Senate, 
rosy, bright-eyed, careless in dress, 
handsome and alert, he would be the 
lasl person that the novice would 
hit upon as the leader. Apparently 
the least concerned of all as to what 
is going on about him he is yet tak- 
ing in everything and "sizing up" 
the situation with the speed and 
judgment of a detective. Speech- 
making is to Mr. Aldrich so much 

child's play, serious to the children 
but amusing to their elders. It is 
to him the blowing off of the froth 
in preparation for drinking the 
draught beneath. The Senate lead- 
er is as quick as a cat in his physi- 
cal movements and mentally a^ keen 
as the proverbial lynx. But he is 
never outwardly nervous, never rest- 
less, and at the most critical peri- 
ods of legislative tangles he is the 
most light-hearted of all. He issues 
no orders in the open, dictates to 
nobody, and while he is ever ready 
to "explain" the contents of a bill or 
give his "opinion" of a proposition, 
allows others to do the talking and 
the "posing." In voice and manner 
he is modest and soft, but he is re- 
puted to have a back-bone that noth- 
ing can bend. Beneath the glove is 
a hand of steel. Senator Aldrich 
is the leader of the Senate not be- 
cause he has been chosen chairman 
of this or that committee but be- 
cause he is the man to whom his 
party colleagues turn to advise them 
what to do. He is a lamp to their 
feet and it is detracting nothing 
from his dues to say that much of 
the flame that feeds the lamp is fur- 
nished by that thoroughly equipped, 
self-poised, learned, experienced and 
in every way commendable states- 
man, Senator Allison of Iowa. In 
the opinion of Mr. Aldrich and others 
Mr. Allison is "the wisest man in 
public life." He is the oldest Sena- 
tor in point of continuous service — 
he took his seat March 4th, 1873, 
and barring only his lack of aggres- 
siveness and disinclination to irre- 
vocably commit himself to any 
measure or any policy, he is a states- 
man in all that the word implies. 
Senators Aldrich and Allison admire 
and respect one another and having 



pulled together in harness evenly 
for many years, may properly be, 
and indeed they prefer to be regard- 
ed as in some respects the joint lead- 
ers of the Senate. As the distinction 
can go to but one, however, that 
one must of necessity be the Senator 
from Rhode Island. 

It was President Roosevelt who 
first publicly took up the cudgels 
in defence of Senators who have 
of late been scandalously and libel- 
lously maligned by those irrespon- 
sive word-painters of the periodical 
press who claim to hold from the 
people who they assume to believe 
are being made victims of the wick- 
edness and power of corporate 
wealth. It was in his speech at the 
dedication of the new building of 
the House of Representatives that 
Mr. Roosevelt's muck-rake speech 
was first publicly delivered, but a 
fortnight or so before, at the dinner 
given by Speaker Cannon to the 
Gridiron Club, he had rehearsed it 
and with much of vehemence and 
theatrical effect that was properly 
omitted on the more formal occasion 
where, as is not the case of Gridiron 
dinners, reporters were present and 
the speaker must needs stand by 
their records. 

At the preliminary performance, 
Mr. Roosevelt was more eloquent 
and more specific in his denuncia- 
tion of that particular class of muck- 
[rakers whose business it is to assail 
those men in public life who happen 
to be rich, taking it for granted that 
because they are rich they must nec- 
essarily be corrupt. The scourging 
(that he gave to these slanderers and 
[mischief-makers was severe, and has 
bad a noticeable effect in arresting 
jdie rising tide of misrepresentation 
and abuse. The President did not 

defend corruption nor did he apolo- 
gize for those who are known to be 
corrupt. But he was scathing in 
his rebuke to those who are mis- 
leading the public into the belief 
that dishonesty is rampant at Wash- 
ington and that it is easier for a 
camel to pass through a needle's 
eye than for a man to be honest 
while holding the office of United 
States Senator. 

In that speech President Roose- 
velt had in mind certain individual 
Senators who have been singled out 
for attack and who were when he 
spoke conspicuously assailed in cur- 
rent numbers of the magazines, but 
it is not necessary, in order to de- 
fend the Senate as a body from the 
assaults of- those who know not 
whereof they speak, to deal with in- 
dividuals. It is easy to charge that 
a rich man accumulated his wealth 
dishonestly; it would be difficult to 
prove the original charge. Senators 
like other classes of public men must 
be judged by their public acts, and 
if they are loyal to their clients' 
cause, discharging faithfully and in- 
telligently the duties devolving upon 
them, the people will be content to 
regard them as honorable men, as 
indeed, as a rule, they are. This is 
probably the view that Senator Bev- 
eridge of Georgia, a Democrat, who, 
although somewhat serious minded 
and inclined to obstinately split 
hairs with his more mentally agi!e 
colleagues, has high ideals as a pub- 
lic servant, had in mind when in the 
Senate recently he cried out against 
this modern practice of assailing the 
motives of public men. "There should 
be," said he, "a reluctance to speak 
ill of men in high places. It arouses 
popular passion and destroys public 
faith." That is a sensible and timely 



admonition and is a fitting' accom- 
paniment to President Roosevelt's 
denunciation of those who would 
ca ; l every man in public life a thief. 
The public should heed the warning 
of those two patriotic and honorable 
men and put the seal of disapproval 
on those who besmirch the character 
of our public servants. 

The Senate of to-day is demon- 
strably stronger man for man than 
at any previous time in its history. 
Although there may have been peri- 
ods — twenty-five years ago — when 
the body was dominated by groups 
of Senators more nearly the popular 
ideal of statesmen than those who 
are now in control, the average of 
today is higher. Moreover in the 
years that have passed since the 
Civil war period the Senate has im- 
proved in another and perhaps as 
important a respect, at a most aston- 
ishing- rate. 

So far as the manners and morals 
of its personnel are concerned, the 
personal habits of its members, to 
speak more plainly, the change has 
been astonishingly rapid and cannot 
fail to have a beneficial effect on the 
rising generation. There are no more 
"Tom" Wards in Washington to 
wine and dine Senators into support 
of measures advocated by a numer- 
ous and blatant lobby; liquor is no 
longer sold over the bar of a res- 
taurant, although there is many a 
modest private side-board tucked 
away in a corner; night sessions are 
no longer drunken revels and intoxi- 
cated Senators are now kept out of 
sight. Pistols are not flourished in 
debate now and Senators who have 

been convicted of dishonesty by the 
courts or at the more discriminating 
bar of public opinion are shamed 
into resigning unless they die or 
suffer a worse fate from the humili- 
ation of being found out. Today 
the average age of Senators is sixty. 
In 1876 it was fifty-nine. As re- 
spects age therefore, there has been 
no radical change in thirty years; 
as respects wisdom, there are no fig- 
ures, no basis of calculation and 
opinions differ. There may be a 
larger number of mediocre men in 
the Senate now than then, but the 
total number of Senators is much 

Along with the period of hee sil- 
ver agitation came wha!: the late 
President Harrison was known to 
have characterized as "the free coin- 
age of Senators" and some of these 
of later days may not measure up 
to the old-fashioned standard. But 
it should be borne in mind that in 
the larger body those of conspicu- 
ous ability overshadow their com- 
monplace colleagues, and it is now 
much nearer the truth than it was 
when the country and the Senate 
were smaller to say that the com- 
paratively few citizens of the vari- 
ous states could call their Senators 
by name. It is the iay of greater 
things and the point of view of the 
public has shifted. But for this fact 
it might be possible to demonstrate 
what more thoughtful men believe 
to be the truth, that the Senate of 
the United States ranks today in 
point of average ability, honesty and 
patriotism, just about as it did thir- 
ty, sixty or ninety years ago. 

9th Century Boston Journalism 

By Edward H. Clement 


The first of a series of reminiscent articles from the pen of Mr. Edward H. Clem- 
ent who has been all his life active in journalistic work in Boston and an editor of the 
Boston Transcript for a quarter of a century. 

I CANNOT remember the time 
in my boyhood when I did not 
long to get on the inside of a 
newspaper office. The smell of 
printers' ink and the roll and clank 
of a press had such a fascination 
for me that I accepted in tender 
years the position of carrier for the 
Chelsea "Telegraph and Pioneer" 
for the joy it was to be able to 
hang about the office and handle 
the damp sheets as they came from 
the press. It must have been that, 
for the pecunairy consideration was 
minute and precarious and the 
tramp through dampness and cold 
and storm was long though the 
subscription list was small in those 
bucolic days of the northern sub- 
urb. To get back into the gaslight 
of the office and feel authorized to 
sit around waiting for my pittance 
was to feel like a member of the 
staff and recompense enough, if 
the always hard-up editor and pub- 
lisher had but known it. A little 
later I had the honor of contribut- 
ing a paragraph of local news now 
and then, and there came a day 
when the cup of my ambition over- 
flowed with the small sensation a 
sarcastic glorification of the liber- 
ality of the ferry in supplying a 


new tin dipper for the waiting-room 
created in the little burgh. Then 
a charming rural place of green 
hills, divided off English-fashion 
with hedgerows of hawthorn, the 
streets lined with graceful arching 
elms, Chelsea was the residence of 
a number of Boston newspaper men 
of some note and prominence. I 
often saw in his walks about 
the lanes bordered with barberry 
bushes and old stone walls, the 
great Orestes A. Brownson, the 
chief reviewer and religious contro- 
versialist of his day. He was dis- 
tinguished for having gone from the 
extreme radical wing of Unitarian- 
ism to the fold of the Roman Cath- 
olic Church, and as may be imag- 
ined, he now had his "friends in 
both places." The boys used to 
call after him and mock him, and 
even "rock him" in the streets 
after he became a Catholic, and his 
son who was a schoolmate of mine 
shared in his unpopularity and 
what would be called to-day the 
social "boycott." Then there was 
Colonel Fellows who was in the 
office of the Boston Atlas, and the 
Boston Postmaster, E. C. Bailey, 
who was the editor and proprietor 
of the Boston Herald, and, it must 


be added, thought none the more 

of For that, as the Herald was dili- 
gently earning tor itself in those 
days Ben Butler's characterization 
iA it. Idie greatest Boston journalist 
of our loeal pride (B. V. Shillaber 
was a later acquisition for Chelsea) 
was C. C. llazewell. long the editor 
of the Boston Traveller. Chelsea 
and North Chelsea (now Revere) 
in that epoch straggled over their 
series oi parallel hog-back hills or 
drumlins such as head for the sea 
all the way down the North Shore, 
from Boston Harbor which is full 
of them, some of them on the outer 
circle with their noses eaten off by 
the easterly storms, to Essex and 
Ipswich and Rowley and Newbury- 
port. The lord of all these hills 
near the city was Powderhorn, now 
irredeemably scarred and squalid 
with piecemeal street-cutting, leav- 
ing hideous and hopeless walls of 
yellow gravel, and on the pleasant 
southern slope of the next hill to 
the north of Powderhorn and sepa- 
rated from it by a broad valley 
with a lovely little serpentine tidal 
river and its mill (still grinding 
spice and mustard as then) was the 
home of the famous historiographer 
of the Traveller. I was born and 
lived all my life up to my depart- 
ure for college, which proved to be 
my farewell to Winnisimmet, on the 
Boston-fronting slope of the first 
hill above the Mystic River, so that 
counting Mount Bellingham, Mr. 
Hazewell was three drumlins away, 
and it was almost a two-mile walk 
to make a call on him. I have often 
thought and said that the boy pass- 
ing the two middle decades of the 
last century on the Chelsea hills 
had a better chance to imbibe the 
sense oi Boston's importance as a 

city and port than boys born and 
brought up in the city itself. From 
our point of vantage, the metropo- 
lis of New England sat with a dig- 
nified grace on her three hills and 
every inch a queen to the impres- 
sionable contemplation. The State 
house dome crowned it just at the 
middle and apex of the two long 
slopes of the crowding commercial 
buildings and around the base 
spread literally a forest of shipping 
with the tall masts of great world- 
sailing vessels of the days before 
steam-shipping. In short it was pre- 
cisely the view of Boston pictured 
on the city seal. Flanking this im- 
pressive object, — nothing less than 
the "Urbs Condita, 1630 A. D." — 
were the Navy Yard ship-houses 
with their distinctly naval and pe- 
culiar high-gable roofs filled with 
little windows, and Bunker Hill 
Monument, and on the left stretched 
out to sea the harbor islands with 
their handsome face-granite forts. 
Full of suggestion, full of move- 
ment and interest and significance 
always was this scene. Then there 
was the natural beauty of the broad 
surface of the estuary wherein min- 
gled the waters of the Charles and 
the Mystic. Standing up and down 
the ship channel, often with their 
square sails all set moved in a state- 
ly line the returning or departing 
argosies of the merchant princes of 
the golden age that the last of the 
low tariffs brought to Boston's 
commerce. Here was the great 
city in front at our feet, and yet, 
stepping to the door of our home 
of a still night, we could hear the 
roar of the beach now called 
Revere, and tell when an easterly 
storm was brewing by its "rote" of 
pulsing rhythm. 



The Traveller and the Journal 
were the great popular papers of 
those days, in the trans-Mystic 
hamlet, the Advertiser and the 
Transcript being rather exclusive- 
ly urban in their circulation. It 
was a rare privilege, therefore, to 
have a chat with the famous writer 
•of the "Review of the Week" in the 
Traveller at the cost only of the 
walk out to North Chelsea. The 
•cost to him must have been a fear- 
ful and unwarranted sacrifice of 
precious time, drawn either from 
his needed rest or his pressing en- 
gagements for literary work. But 
he never enlightened me on the 
■subject of these infringements him- 
self. It was only when his little 
son, then in kilts, twenty odd years 
later welcomed by me into the 
Transcript staff, leaving- the side of 
his mother who had been watching 
Mr. Hazewell constructing an in- 
clined plane at the gate for his fas- 
cinated youthful hero-worshipper 
valiantly approached to administer 
upon my legs a pummeling with 
"his little fists, that I realized the 
solicitude of the household over 
the consumption of the leisure hour 
of the hard-pressed editor, with 
perhaps his six-column Traveler 
summary of the week on his hands 
that very afternoon. Indeed the 
strongest impression I retain of 
Mr. Hazewell, besides his manners, 
utter freedom from pretension and 
•condescension and his kindness in 
fanning the flame of my boyhood's 
ambition to "enter journalism" in 
due time, is of his harrassed, nerv- 
ous, overworked and wornout look. 
In fact it is the thing I best remem- 
ber of a number of even more fam- 
ous journalists I have met. Hor- 
ace Greeley was amiable to a fault, 

but he could be so rude (and even 
profane) if interrupted when he 
was in a hurry, as he most gener- 
ally was, that it was not an un- 
known thing for his colleagues in 
the Tribune office to sec him rush 
out of his den after a luckless call- 
er to apologize profusely for the 
harshness of the rebuff he had just 
administered. Visitors to editorial 
rooms must often have felt the 
stress and strain and hurry of all 
around in the atmosphere of the 
sanctum of any first-class daily. 
The building of the house of cards 
that has to be accomplished in so 
many hours each day is nervous 
work; and it is not to be wondered 
at if the long-repeated feat finally 
leaves the performer of the mys- 
tery in touchy, irritable habit of 
manner toward callers. I remem- 
ber that the only time I ever saw 
Mr. Haskell, a predecessor as edi- 
tor of the Transcript, he was so 
busy that he absolutely refused to 
say a word to me as to the possi- 
bilities of there being, some day, 
an opening for a young man on the 
paper. Mr. Hazewell was at the 
time I have spoken of a contribu- 
tor to the Atlantic Monthly of ar- 
ticles of the first importance on his- 
torical and political subjects, be- 
sides being the only editor of con- 
sequence on the Traveler, and he 
was also writing for the North 
American Review and Harper's 
Magazine. He was also an omniv- 
orous reader of belles lettres espe- 
cially of the better fiction (it was 
said in his obituaries that he could 
have repeated from memory, word 
for word, Hawthorne's Scarlet Let- 
ter if every copy of that work had 
been destroyed) and no doubt for 
years before he died at sixtv-nine, 



in 1883, he had larger projects of 
literary work on his mind, and "the 
Review of the Week," wonderful 
feat of memory as it was. for he 
consulted no files or authorities, so 
it was said, while writing" it. was, 
as compared with his more con- 
genial and ambitious projects a 
sort of pot-boiler. He must have 
been often in that state so vividly 
set forth in Owen Meredith's fas- 
cinating' biography of his father, 
Edward Bulwer, Lord Lytton. The 
younger Lytton says: "Having- to 
supplement his novels by a multi- 
tude of anonymous contributions 
to periodicals on subjects of the 
most trivial and transient interest 
he consumed hours upon hours in 
repulsive drudgery. If these intru- 
sive labors were frettings from his 
distaste for them, his fictions were 
exhausting from the hold they took 
on his imagination. With the ne- 
cessity for quick production, the 
pauses (far too brief) in the man- 
ual labor were filled, not by placid 
ruminations, but by his acting over 
in feverish thought the dramatic 
situations of the coming chapter. 
His temperament was by nature 
sensitive and irritable, his over- 
tasked faculties rendered it morbid- 
ly acnte. 'He seemed,' says Miss 
Greene, who was then on a visit to 
my mother, 'like a man who has 
been flayed and is sore all over. 
Fighting always against time, every 
hindrance and interruption was a 
provocation to be resented. All the 
petty, household worries were to 
his exasperated brain exactly as 
Miss Greene describes — what fric- 
tions and hustlings are to highly 
inflamed flesh. This while turning 
off matter unceasingly for the in- 
numerable rivulets with which the 

periodical press is forever feeding 
the waters of oblivion.' ' 

That well-founded reproach of 
journalism in general, that it is ig- 
norant and shallow, occupied main- 
ly with things of "the most trivial 
and transient interest," pouring 
forth rivulets "forever feeding the 
waters of oblivion," could not be 
laid to the door of my first ideal of 
a journalist, Charles Creighton 
Hazewell. He would have meas- 
ured well up to the standards re- 
cently demanded of the press by 
the German Kaiser, who it appears 
has been methodically looking into> 
the title and fitness to criticize him, 
of his numerous assailants in the- 
press of all countries, employing 
the machinery of the imperial civil 
service in this characteristically 
thorough-going investigation. He 
holds that a journalist, considering: 
the amount of harm a defective 
training and character may do r 
should be as carefully prepared and 
passed upon before undertaking to 
write or pretending to write as trie- 
doctor, lawyer, and the teacher are 
prepared and certificated. To be- 
sure most of the blame for the war- 
clouds which have recently threat- 
ened Europe is to be laid at his 
own door rather than at that of the 
press to whose ignorant and un- 
scrupulous counsels and excite- 
ments he attributes it. But his' 
point is well taken that there is a 
deal of unwarranted and unworthy 
subserviency in the newspapers to 
the demands of a cheap and vul- 
gar craving for excitement, as Avell 
as to the scheming of selfish politi- 
cians and of capitalistic greed con- 
triving conspiracies against the 
common weal. But the leaders of 
the press of the type and genera- 


28 r 

tion of C. C. Hazewell displayed a 
character, a culture, a sense of the 
dignity and responsibility of their 
calling, a sincerity and an earnest- 
ness in their dedication of the press 
to public rather than business aims, 
that leave a wide and increasing 
gap in the procession between their 
epoch and our own. 

I passed a week recently in a 
grand old Connecticut mansion 
tenanted still by the second gener- 
ation of the original builder. That 
was a very refreshing atmosphere 
breathed from an old number of 
Harper's Magazine I found one day 
in a heap of paper-covered litera- 
ture in the garret. The old-fash- 
ioned wood engravings were full 
of a chaste, artistic character and 
quality. The pictures were not so 
striking perhaps as the magazine 
pictures of to-day, yet full of dig- 
nity and refinement. Then there 
was also a certain quiet reigning 
through the pages that was as 
strange as it was pleasant, like the 
remembered delights of a favorite 
room or corner of one's home after 
some unusual disturbance as of 
visiting company, or some shock of 
disaster has passed away and things 
have resumed their normal course. 
It was the absence of the sen- 
sational journalistic editing, the 

straining for effectism, "timeliness" 
and "stars" of passing notoriety, 
whether in reputable or disreput- 
able activity, the strenuous self- 
advertising life, the cowboy ele- 
ment come to New York and ca- 
vorting as the spoiled child and 
prodigal son returned, with the 
treasured veal all his own. This 
wild western style and taste now in 
the saddle in New York, whether 
in print or in illustrations, was un- 
known and unheard of in the '8o's r 
or if heard of and occasionally seen, 
was at the distance of California on 
the overland trail. It was not 
"in our midst" on a daring "hot 
time," galloping on Broadway's 
sidewalk and painting the town red 
with its own audacious representa- 
tives in the places of prominence 
and control purchased with untold 
wealth at exaggerated prices for 

The only thing that is better 
done in newspaperdom to-day is 
the business management — the 
multiplication of the resources and 
the increasing of the amounts of 
revenue, the squeezing of the last 
drop of juice to be expressed from 
the cornering of "publicity," — all 
marks of the transition of the 
press from an influence to an indus- 

Ballads of Old Boston 

By M. A. DeWolfe Howe 

The Ox 

(Lines commemorating the Boston celebration of the French Revolution, Jan. 24, 1793) 

Why did the Castle cannon roar 

When the sun climbed cold from the sea? 

What are the townsfolk gathering for, 

What can the pageant be 

That draws them forth from their homes and trades, 

Sober citizens, lads and maids, 

Radiant all with a holiday air, 

Crowding the side-walks everywhere? 

What can it be but the Civic Feast, 
Where Boston drinks long life to France 
Now too from a royal rule released, 
And flushed with freedom's inheritance! 
For the older sons of liberty 
Must greet the younger now set free. 

Look you, the great procession comes 
With blare of trumpets and whir of drums, 
Mounted citizens, marshal fine, 
Citizens more and more, in line, 
Marching by eights, then a dozen more, 
Armed like butchers, in snowy frocks, 
Guiltless now of a victim's gore, 
And then the victim's self — 

Lifted high on a car of state, 

A giant beast of a thousand weight, 

Roasted whole ; on each gilded horn 

The flag of a new republic borne, 

The French on the right, on the left our own; 




T H E OX 283 

And carried afront of the monstrous thing, 
A legend in gold for all to see : 
"Peace Offering 
To Liberty and Equality." 
Must then Fraternity skulk alone? 
Not so, for following brotherly 
Come carts of bread for the crowd to munch, 
And two with a hogshead apiece of punch ! 

So through the winding streets they fare 
Passing the Stump of Liberty, where 
The Tree once stood ; at Oliver's Dock 
Pausing to christen it Liberty Square, 
With booming guns; then on they flock 
To Citizen Hancock's — by his door 
A halt, huzzas; then three cheers more 
For Citizen Adams — "Sam" of yore ! 

To State Street last they make their way, 
And there is a sight for a winter's day ! 
Tables enough for a regiment spread 
From the State House down to Kilby Street, 
With ladies the hungry horde to greet 
From windows and balconies overhead ! 

Ah, now had the Ox still greater grown 
There were none too much of him ; yet I own 
There might have been less of the punch, for soon 
The feasters are feasting like comrades boon, 
And, shame to tell, they throw so high 
Their votive offerings, rib and thigh, 
That the cautious ladies are fain to fly. 

If life were only as long as art 

We should look at the whole, and no mere part, — 

Scraps of the feast to the almshouse sent, 

Prisoners loosed for freedom's sake, 

Great balloons to the heavens lent, 

The children's treat of a "Civic Cake," 

Gentlefolk dining at Faneuil Hall, 

- s 4 

X E \Y E X G L A X D M A G A Z I X E 

And the gilded horns, at evenfall. 
Lifted with lanterns high over all. 

So speeds the glorious day to its close, 

And the weeks roll round ere Boston knows 

That when the festival deeds were done 

Louis the Kino-, hut three days gone, 

Had paid his debt to the guillotine, 

And Freedom was wearing the tyrant's mien. 

Then Libert}- Avon by the Gallic plan 
Seemed not quite God's best gift to man, 
And its symbols, by grace of paradox, 
Remain the punch and the scattered ox. 


1 ^ ii ,V pfrfi 

Who Runs Massachusetts 

By R. L. Bridgman 

three million people, and 
most of them are of no ac- 
count in running the state. They 
are mere passengers. Others run 
things for them. A great many 
people help to run some interests 
of the state, but they have each 
their specialty and it is not run 
with regard to the state as a whole. 
Devoted philanthropists labor for 
the dependent and defective classes. 
Studious educators grapple with 
the problem of better training for 
children. Business men are con- 
stantly introducing new methods. 
Scientific men offer some new truth 
almost daily. Medical men prove 
the success of new ideas over the 
old. Labor agitators demand and 
continue to secure more favorable 
terms in the struggle of life. 
Women reformers glow with en- 
thusiasm over the new opportuni- 
ties for women. But, judging by 
what can be seen and heard, per- 
haps not a person in the state has 
an adequate idea of the develop- 
ment and interests of the state as 
a whole because they are too great 
and too complex for comprehension 
by any one. 

In speaking of the state there 
may be meant the people as a 
whole, all ages, races and religions 
and both sexes, or there may be 
meant the state officially, the politi- 
cal body which is represented by 
men chosen by the people to stand 
for them as a political unit. Pos- 

sibly the same people run the state 
from either point of view, in the 
haphazard way in which it is run. 

Taking the people as a whole, 
we throw aside half of them at once 
on the score of immaturity. They 
run nobody, but other people run 
them. True, the young people put 
conditions, — very serious ones, too, 
— upon the older ones who cannot, 
by any means, do what they would 
like to do. Each person is a con- 
dition upon every other, in a broad 
view, but the subordinate parts do 
not run the responsible parts. 

As to the grown people, more 
than half are women. Assuming 
or granting that they run things at 
home, that proves nothing as to 
who runs the whole state. As a 
rule, whatever exceptions exist, the 
man of the house is the head of the 
household beyond the door. Repre- 
senting the family outside of the 
home, who runs him? Who runs 
the men who are the heads of the 
homes of the state? 

Many of these men are independ- 
ent workers, farmers and others 
who are not in the direct employ of 
others. They are on a level with 
each other. No one, and no few, 
run the others. They are run by 
some superior force which controls 
their markets and makes them 
work, whether they wish to or not. 

But Massachusetts is a manu- 
facturing state. Most of her men 
are hired by some one. They work 
for wages. Therefore they are run 




by their employers. Who, then, 

runs the employers? Conditions of 
trade and transportation arc so ex- 
tended and complex that condi- 
tions outside of the state deter- 
mine largely the lives and the activ- 
ity of men in the state. Massa- 
chusetts manufacturers are part of 
a great system, controlled to a ma- 
terial extent from the outside. But, 
in their state relations, the small 
number of manufacturers controls 
the hundreds of thonsands of em- 
ployees. So we trace the control 
of the people, as a mass, into a few 
hands. These few men run the 
people as a whole, to a large de- 

Crities of this view might say 
that the ministers and the priests, 
with their immense control of the 
people through religions prestige, 
run the state. Possibly that might 
have been true two hundred years 
aero. But their control is not im- 
mense now, and the majority of the 
people would simply laugh at the 
suggestion of clerical domination in 
the state to-day. The ministers and 
the priests cut a very small figure 
in running the state now. 

But are not the labor organiza- 
tions as powerful as any influence? 
That is a fair question. They ar- 
ray themselves against the employ- 
ers. But when it comes to the de- 
cisive struggle, the side loses which 
must yield first to sheer starvation. 
The unions do have much influence. 
They make endless worry for the 
employers. They affect the situa- 
tion greatly. They modify the ac- 
tion of the employers, but they 
cannot, in the last analysis, run 
things. Probably they come nearer 
to it than any other influence ex- 
cept the comparatively few em- 

ployers whose strength lies in their 
accumulated reserve of wealth 
which can sustain them in a pro- 
tracted struggle. 

Now, taking the word "state" in 
its official, or organic, meaning. 
when it comes to the question who 
runs it, we have statistical ground 
for an opinion. Of the ioo per 
cent, or 3,003,680 people, 51.34 per 
cent, or 1,542,691 by the state cen- 
sus of 1905, are women and girls 
These have no share formally in 
running the state. So half of the 
population is dropped at the outset. 
That leaves 48.66 per cent., or 
1,461,589, composed of men and 
boys. The number of assessed 
polls for the state election of 1905 
was 855,243, but only 556,820 were 
registered in that year. Only 419,- 
315 voted at the municipal elections 
in 1905, and only 403,178 at the 
state election. 

But the number who voted is far 
too large as showing who runs the 
state, for, politically, the state is 
run by parties. At the last state 
election the governor was elected 
by a trifle over 50 per cent, of the 
vote cast. As the total vote cast 
was only about 13 per cent, of the 
population of the state, therefore 
the dominant party, which runs the 
state officially, includes only about 
6^2 per cent, of the people in the 

But who runs the party? Near- 
ly every place outside of the Hub 
looks to Boston for the central in- 
fluences in party affairs. But, tak- 
ing all the state, cities and towns 
together, probably not more than 
one voter in one thousand is of the 
slightest consequence in the party 
councils in determining the party 
policy. The mass of the party 



counts in making- the public senti- 
ment by which the managers are 
guided, but they are never con- 
sulted formally, nor is any personal 
deference ever shown to their opin- 
ion. It is a reasonable supposition 
that not over two hundred persons, 
which would be about one in one 
thousand, (the total vote for gov- 
ernor of the majority party at the 
state election of 1905 was 197,469), 
decide what shall be the formal 
policy of the party. Indeed, if one 
begins to count, he will be quite 
likely to cut the number to one 
hundred before he is through. 
These dominate the three million 
people and are their rulers, as far 
as party policy is the ruling power. 
Some might say that the gover- 
nor runs the state. That depends in 
part upon the man. He has but 
little time to give to the study of 
the state as a whole, with all its 
immense interests and many forces. 
An official near the governor, who 
has served through many adminis- 
trations and has an excellent oppor- 
tunity for reaching a sound con- 
clusion, says that half the gover- 
nor's time, as an average for all 
governors, is occupied by appli- 
cants for office. Yet the state has 
a well enforced merit system in the 
civil service which is supposed to 
remove much personal pressure 
from the chief executive. The gov- 
ernor cannot run the state in a 
broad way, as a whole, though it 
might seem as if he w r ere officially 
in position to do it. This is true of 
all governors. As a rule, the gov- 
ernor is a much-limited official. He 
attends to the duties put upon him 
by law, more or less faithfully, but 
the law is a higher power, and he 
must continue under it. The legis- 

lature pleases him when it pleases, 
but it will not hesitate to displease 
him to please itself. That is true 
of all governors. 

Boards and commissions make up 
a large part of the administration 
of the state, but these are the ser- 
vants and watchdogs of the people, 
appointed by the governor and, 
like him, under law. They have 
their duties. They are a modest, 
unassuming, honest class of men, 
as a rule, doing work more or less 
conscientiously and they are abso- 
lutely essential to the well being of 
the people. They are sensitive to 
popular criticism. They keep their 
hands out of politics, openly, at 
least, and doubtless really, in the 
main. They are not to be regarded 
for a moment as running the state. 

What of the judiciary? The 
judges run nothing. They attend 
to their cases, hold their ermine 
spotless and keep their hands of! 
from the political machine. There 
is no doubt that the Massachusetts 
judiciary is out of politics. 

Now we come to the legislature. 
The representatives of the people 
in the Senate and House number 
two hundred and eighty. About 
two-thirds of the House (latterly 
more than that, as an average) and 
three-fourths of the Senate belong 
to the majority party. Those pro- 
portions would aggregate one hun- 
dred and ninety persons as the 
nominal framers of the state's pol- 
icy. But most of them are of no 
account as leaders. They move as 
the party wires pull them. A dozen 
in the House and half as many in 
the Senate, who are in touch with 
outside influence, shape party pol- 
icy materially in the legislature, 
though it is the fact that there has- 



never been in either branch in re- 
cent years any party leader who has 
not suffered more than one serious 
personal defeat in his leadership. It 
is impossible for any one. as proved 
by experience, to lead in the legis- 
lature, though the membership has 
included some who have attained 
high political standing afterward. 
Members are too independent to 
follow any one man, no matter how 
able. But, on the average, certain 
sets shape the course of the legis- 
lature, and they feel the power of 
outside dictators. 

Notice, by the way of proof, re- 
cent elections of speaker and presi- 
dent. In certain cases which might 
be named the reason for predicting 
the election of the successful man 
has been that "the influences which 
control the election are with him." 
In a sharp contest for the presi- 
dency of the Senate, not long ago, 
the candidate who was defeated 
was previously marked for defeat 
because "the influences which make 
presidents are not with him." It 
was the counsel for one of the big- 
gest corporations in the state who 
used those words. He seemed to 
know what he w r as talking about 
and his prediction came true. 

Not only are legislative presiding 
officers often made by the influ- 
ences which run the state tempo- 
rarily, but these influences either 
control the governor or identify 
themselves with him so that they 
ride on the rim of his coach 
wheel, if he does not ride on 
theirs. But both legislative and ex- 
ecutive branches of the govern- 
ment, being in close touch with the 
dominating influence outside which 
really shapes their movements, are 
representatives of the great mass 

of people in the main only when 
some great popular cause is pend- 
ing, on which the mandate of the 
people is sufficiently distinct to 
make it perilous to disregard it. 
Even in the face of what is the evi- 
dent desire and welfare of the peo- 
ple, legislatures have passed and 
governors have signed bills favor- 
ing special interests at the expense 
of the people and conspicuous il- 
lustrations have occurred within a 
few years. The belief that the peo- 
ple run the state directly is a seri- 
ous mistake, except in unusual cir- 
cumstances in which their official 
representatives fear to defy them by 
doing the will of the few who run 
the state as a rule. It would be 
easy to give names of great cor- 
porate interests which have come 
to the state house in recent years, 
and by means which deserved the 
severest condemnation, have car- 
ried their schemes through to enact- 

When we analyze these forces 
which control the official represent- 
atives of the people, they are found 
to be identical with those which 
shape the life of the state outside of 
its official capacity, as was seen 

Opposing these influences, the 
under dog in the fight, but always 
keeping up the fight, is the great 
labor interest, as represented by the 
labor organizations. So far as they 
have had justice on their side, or 
could appeal strongly to popular 
sympathy, they have won conces- 
sions from employers who were 
forced by political agitation, after 
years of procrastination, to do jus- 
tice. The labor organizations have 
not run the state. Far from it, but 
they have had an important part in 



shaping the state's history, and they 
are entitled to mention among the 
forces which promote the progress 
of Massachusetts, though they can- 
not rule by numerical strength of 
their own. 

At times certain influences seem 
to be the decisive factors. One hears 
that the Harvard college crowd is 
in control, or that the Methodist 
church decided the election, or that 
if it had not been for the fraternal 
orders the result would have been 
different, or that the saloons really 
decide elections by their power in 
the cities, and so on. Or it may be 
great business interests, the steam 
roads, or the electric railways or the 
protected manufacturers, or, again, 
it may be the temperance enthusi- 
asts, or boards of health, or labor 
unions. But the seeming suprem- 
acy of each subsides when each has 
won what it wanted and the organic 
existence of the state goes on till 
another influence dominates it on 
another issue. Nobody runs the 
state very long at a time on any 

"When the coster's finished jumping on 

his mother, 
He loves to lie a-basking in the sun." 

When a great corporation has 
got from the legislature all it wants 
for the time, it lies back and merely 
looks on, making sure that it is not 
attacked, lying low until it gets 
hungry again and wants something 
more. In the meantime, some other 
hungry power comes in and gets 
its fill. The legislature is influ- 
enced by a succession of greedy or 
jealous or apprehensive or needy 
petitioners looking out for their 
selfish financial advantage. That 
such petitioners have wrought the 
corruption they have is the disgrace 

of the state. But that they have 
been checked as much as they have 
been and that to-day Massachusetts 
has a system of boards and com- 
missions which protect the people 
as much as they do, which have 
the capacity to give larger protec- 
tion yet and which arc becoming 
more efficient and more constantly 
the organs of the political body to 
serve the people, is a marked credit 
to the state. It is a much mixed- 
tip mess of good and bad at the 
state house, and any impartial view 
must take account of both sides. 

When the student analyzes the 
real government of Massachusetts, 
he finds it in a very few hands, 
mostly unofficial and some of them 
never in public life. It might be 
urged that the office-holders and 
office-seekers run the state. Is not 
this or that conspicuous politician 
one of our real rulers? No. Big 
and little politicians, without any 
motive but self-interest, are allied 
with the rulers. They seek to iden- 
tify themselves with the rulers. 
But if they ever miss their connec- 
tion with the real source of their 
power, they are as helpless as a 
stalled electric car with its trolley 
off from the wire. Plenty of men 
without great constructive power, 
but with great ambition for politi- 
cal position, are prominent in Mass- 
achusetts. But they lack the real 
power which runs the state, and 
Massachusetts is too large and too 
intelligent to be run by her politi- 
cians, save in a very narrow sense. 
Some of them seem to think that 
they run the state, and some peo- 
ple concede their pretensions, but 
these politicians do not dominate 
the life of a great people, and they 
cannot. They may, for a time, 

2 00 


dominate a political machine com- 
posed of men of their own sort, but 
they cannot dominate, or materially 
affect, in the long run, the organic 
life and character of the great po- 
litical unity known by the historic 
name of Massachusetts. 

But the strong- and selfish inter- 
ests do run the state for a time, 
when it is for their purpose. They 
have their day. They elect speak- 
ers, presidents of the Senate and 
governors. They set up and they 
cast down, caring nothing for office 
themselves, realizing what a bauble 
it is when conferred by such means 
as they employ, and using their 
tremendous power to fill their own 
pockets, which is the reason why 
they run the state. No one class 
can muster strength to defeat them. 

Does anything run the men who 
run Massachusetts? Not directly. 
But progress is made under them, 
and a very plausible argument 
could be made from the fact that 
since Providence has used these in- 
struments of progress therefore 
their methods have commended 
themselves to the Almighty Ruler 
and his blessing has been upon the 
state in consequence. But that fal- 
lacy may be left to those who 
choose to adopt it for their own. 
Because the state has made genu- 
ine growth in spite of such influ- 

ences, it is true to say that, through 
the generations, over-riding the 
evil temporary influences, rules the 
Massachusetts conscience, the Mas- 
sachusetts sense of right and the 
Massachusetts determination to per- 
severe for the right. This high com- 
bination is vague, is often seeming- 
ly half-blind, often asleep, some- 
times perverted, and sometimes 
weak and purposeless. But it wins 
in a material degree in the long 
years because of the activity of 
men above the selfish interests. 

Just three points, briefly, to close, 
First, none of the states of the 
United States seem to be run any 
better for its people, or with any 
more comprehensive system than 
Massachusetts. Second, the United 
States seems to be equally devoid 
of any broad, co-ordinating power 
to harmonize and unify all its ac- 
tivities, but is equally under the 
control of selfish and corrupt influ- 
ences. Third, the world, the great 
family of nations, is so utterly des- 
titute of such co-ordination, over- 
sight and administration that the 
mere suggestion of the idea shows 
how little mankind has advanced 
in organic development and how 
much must be done before it has 
even a fair start in being what it 
has the power to become and what 
is evidently to be its destiny. 

Massachusetts Bench and Bar 

By Stephen O. Sherman and Weston F. Hutchins 


Some of the Bright Sayings and Sharp Rejoinders of Thomas Riley the Prince of 
Legal Wits — Where the Witness Got the Best of the Lawyer — "Moriarty, Whoever He 
may be" — John B. Moran and His Pointed Thrusts — George Sennott's Joke on J. Wilder 
May — Melvin O. Adams and Inspector Mountain — No Power to Sentence to New York 
— Judge Thompson's Ready Wit and Genial Humor — Barney McBride and His Pint of 
Whisky — Judge Thompson's Speech on the Old South — Ebenezer Ross and His Instruc- 
tions — General Bartlett's Inquisitive Witness — Where the Joke Was on Mr. Elder — Mr. 
Gargan's Motion to Adjourn — Samuel Childs and the man who missed the train — ■ 
Thomas E. Grover and the Client who had the Goods. 

AMONG all the attorneys who 
have practiced in Boston 
there has been none with a 
keener, more brilliant, and scintil- 
lating wit than Thomas Riley 
whose bright sayings, sharp re- 
joinders and constant flow of hu- 
morous repartee have kept many a 
court room in a roar, and have long 
been famous with both judges and 
attorneys. Of all the humorists at 
the bar his is the first place, for he 
is the prince of them all. Mr. Riley 
has a rich brogue and this adds im- 
mensely to the humor of his say- 
ings, which have all the merit of 
coming under all circumstances and 
at the most unexpected places. At 
times he is accustomed to wear his 
hair long and this has made him 
the butt of many a joke which he 
has always taken good naturedly, 
for in the sharp play of wit he has 
given some pretty severe blows, 
and he has long since learned how 
to take them in return. 

With his natural tendency to hu- 

mor and an ability always to see 
the amusing side, Mr. Riley has by 
no means neglected the more seri- 
ous things of life and by his prac- 
tice he has accumulated a compe- 
tency which he is now enjoying, for 
during the past few years his health 
has not been as good as might be 
desired, and he has eased up con- 
siderably from the strenuous prac- 
tice of the law. 

In a way Mr. Riley was a pro- 
tege of General Butler. It was by 
the advice of that doughty war- 
rior, statesman, politician and at- 
torney that he took up the study of 
the law. When he was prepared 
to practice and an opening did not 
at once appear, he was advised by 
General Butler to wait around the 
Municipal Court room and see and 
hear other attorneys present their 
cases. In those days it was no 
unusual thing to see Mr. Sweetser, 
Mr. Charles F. Choate the elder, 
Charles H. Hudson, Tolman Wil- 
ley, Gustavus A. Somerby, Tracey 




F. Cheever and other big lawyers 
trying cases in that court. Mr. 

Riley followed the advice and in 
this way managed to pick up a 
good deal of information always 
useful to an attorney who prac- 
tices in the courts. 

He learned in this way for one 
thing" that in criminal practice it is 
necessary for an attorney to be able 
to think on his feet, to think quick, 
and to think right. A criminal 
trial frequently turns upon some 
important point brought out per- 
haps for the first time by the evi- 
dence, and the decision which has 
to be made on the instant by the 
attorney, means success or failure. 

One day as Mr. Riley sat in the 
Municipal Court room in the old 
court house, the attorneys who 
were engaged in trying a case, be- 
came involved in a bitter wrangle, 
and because things were not going 
exactly as he desired, one of them 
rose from his seat, left the room, 
and abandoned the case. There was 
a delay for a time, and then one of 
the litigants approached Mr. Riley 
and asked him if he would take the 
case. He assented, tried the case 
carefully and with such close at- 
tention to details of small import- 
ance in themselves, but meaning 
much as a whole, that he came off 
victorious. It was an exceedingly 
difficult case to try and there were 
many things connected with it that 
did not in the least lessen the bur- 
den of the attorney who took it. 
The fact that he could take the 
short end of such a case and win it. 
redounded greatly to his credit, 
was something of a feather in his 
cap, and went a long way toward 
establishing his reputation at the 
bar, where he has practiced so long 


and so successfully. By that one 
case he fully justified General But- 
ler's opinion of him, and from that 
time on he had a lucrative practice. 
A well known Hebrew attorney 
was defending a policeman named 
Knott who was connected with 
Division Two, and was in court on 
the charge of having stolen a ham 
from the window of a provision 
store on Province street. As the 
case was going to the jury the He- 
brew attorney and Mr. Riley were 
sitting side by side in the court 
room and the former turning to the 
latter asked, "Brother Riley, what 
will the verdict in this case be?" 
"Not guilty," was the encouraging 
reply. When half an hour later the 
jury returned a verdict of guilty, 
the Hebrew attorney, greatly dis- 
appointed, turned to Mr. Riley and 
said, "I thought you said the ver- 

r, E n cn a N i) r, \ \< 


diet in this case would be not 
guilty !" ''Isn't it?" was Mr. Riley's 

In order to fill a panel in the 
Superior Criminal Court during the 
trial of a case in which Mr. Riley 
appeared for the defendant, it be- 
came necessary to draw from the 
spectators. As the drawing pro- 
ceeded Judge Aklrich who was pre- 
siding, and who was not altogether 


pleased with the method adopted, 
as well as with some of the other 
things connected with the prelimi- 
naries, said, "Mr. Riley, I don't 
think you are pursuing the right 
course." "Your honor," replied Mr. 
Riley, "I was employed by this de- 
fendant to receive his instructions." 
"I know that," tartly replied the 
judge, "but you are not above in- 
structions, are you?" "No, your 


honor, for that matter neither of us 
is above instructions." 

In the suit of Kuhlenberg against 
O'Donnell, Mr. Riley appeared for 
the defendant, the counsel for the 
plaintiff being John W. Lowe. It 
was while Mr. Riley in his argu- 
ment was referring to the plaintiff, 
that he turned to counsel on that 
side and said, "Gentlemen, we have 
all of us heard of Lo the poor In- 
dian, but who of us ever heard of 
Lowe the poor lawyer before?" 

In the suit brought by James Mc- 
Chrystal against former Chief of 
Police Sackett of Revere to recover 
for assault and battery, false ar- 
rest and malicious prosecution, Mr. 
Riley appeared for McChrystal. A 
Dr. Dunn who was called bv the 



defence testified that when he was 
arrested. McChrystal smelled of 
liquor. When the time came to 
cross examine this witness, Mr. 
Riley in his most insinuating man- 
ner asked. "There is a Dr. Dunn 
who is a member of the Massachu- 
setts Medical Society, and who is 
a reputable physician, is there not?" 
"There is," was the reply. "You 
are not that Dr. Dunn are you?" 
"I am not." "That is all." 

A man who showed an inclina- 
tion to answer questions sharply 
was on the witness stand, when 
Mr. Riley asked: 

"Fact was, you were drunk on 
that night, were you not?" 

"That's my business." 

"I know it's your business, but 
were you attending to it?" 

In the case of Mellen against 
Mellen, which was a petition for 
separate support, Mr. Riley was 
opposed by Mr. E. C. Gilman who 
had endeavored to belittle one of 
Mr. Riley's witnesses because she 
testified that she sold cosmetics. 
On the re-direct examination Mr. 
Riley had an opportunity to "come 
back" at Mr. Gilman, which he did 
not fail to improve. 

"What are these cosmetics that 
you have sold, used for?" asked 
Mr. Riley. 

"They are used to improve the 
complexion, to cover blemishes, to 
improve a flushed or a florid face." 

"Ever try to sell any of them to 
my Brother Gilman?" 

John B. Moran, the restless Dis- 
trict Attorney for Suffolk, has a wit 
which is as peculiar to him as is 
everything else in his make-up. In 
skirmish or settled debate he wastes 
no language in driving home at his 
opponent, and his short, sharp 

blows are as clean cut when dealt 
at the bench, as when dealt at the 

In trying a case before a local 
justice he was stopped by an ob- 
jection, and the court heard Mr. 
Moran at some length on his con- 
tention that the matter under dis- 
cussion was admissible. After the 
argument, his honor thought for a 
moment and then said: 

"Well, Mr. Moran, I don't think 
the court will rule that way." 

"Oh," came in the rasping voice 
of the little fighter, "I was not pre- 
suming to say how the court would 
rule; I was merely quoting the 

Mr. Riley and Mr. Moran were 
appearing as counsel for co-defend- 
ants in the Superior Criminal 
Court, and Mr. Riley was examin- 
ing a witness, and of course was 
running at cross purposes with his 
brother. In endeavoring to give 
an illustration, he took a hat from 
the table used by counsel, attempt- 
ed to place it upon his head, and 
found that it was several sizes too 
small for him. Then, with a deli- 
cate irony he said, "That's not my 
hat; that little hat would never fit 
me ; that hat must belong to 
Brother Moran." 

"It does," said John B., "and if 
you had your hair cut, Brother 
Riley, it would come down over 
your ears." 

Years ago when Mr. Riley was 
trying a case in the Municipal 
Court in the old court house, he 
had as a witness one of those men 
who never know anything that is 
asked them on the witness stand, 
one of the most provoking wit- 
nesses a lawyer ever has to deal 
with. Mr. Riley had asked him 



question after question only to 
meet with the same reply to every 
one. - At last his patience became 
exhausted, and turning sharply to 
the witness he asked : 

"Is there anything you do know?" 

The man looked down at the 

floor, considered the question with 


a good deal of deliberation, for I12 
did not seem to be a man who 
would act on any matter quickly — 
he seemed to be a man with less 
than ordinary intelligence, and not 
one who would have an inspiration 
— then raising his eyes, and seeing 
Mr. Riley's big shock of hair, he 
replied, "I know when to cut my 

It was in the Superior Criminal 
Court that Mr. Riley gave an il- 
lustration of the lightning speed of 
his mental make-up, and the readi- 
ness of his legal equipment. He 
was cross examining a witness, and 
asked : 

"Were you in the 1 louse of Cor- 
rection ?" 

District Attorney Stevens object- 
ing, "One moment!" 

Mr. Riley : "No, your honor, six 

One of the neatest things credit- 
ed to Mr. Riley was the way he 
showed his dislike of a certain lead- 
ing politician of his own party, 
who may be called Alexander Mori- 
arty. Mr. Riley was called upon 
to preside at a rally in Faneuil 
Hall, and as presiding officer it be- 


came his duty to read off the names 
of the vice presidents, the list in- 
cluding all of the war horses of the 
Democratic organization, and as 
Alexander Moriarty was one of 
these, his name had to be read, but 
Mr. Riley did it with a very wry 
face. He took up the paper and 
began with "The Honorable Fred- 
erick O. Prince, the Honorable 
Charles Levi Woodbury, the Hon- 



orable Nathan Matthews," and 
continued until he got down near 
the foot of the list, calling each 
name in a round full voice. Then 
he said. "Alexander Moriarty, who- 
ever that may be," looking over the 
audience questioningly in the mean- 

It was when Judge Bell of the 
Superior Court had completed his 
first charge to a jury in the First 
Session of the court, that a brother 
lawyer asked Mr. Riley who was 
in the room what he thought of it. 
"Sound." was the reply. 

When John Wilder May was 
District Attorney for Suffolk Coun- 
ty, he had for his assistant at one 
time, Horace R. Cheney, one of the 
brilliant and lamented young mem- 
bers of the Bar. Mr. Cheney was 
so capable that he tried most of the 
cases. At that time Mr. May was 
interested in getting out a book on 
Insurance. He would come into 
the office late in the morning, hav- 
ing a miscellaneous collection of 
things in his bag, usually garden 
seeds, a light luncheon of molasses 
ginger bread, and the proof sheets 
of this book. 

George Sennott, then an efful- 
gent member of the Suffolk Bar, 
who with his red face lighted up 
the darkest day, would occasionally 
wander in to the office, and if he 
found Mr. May unoccupied, banter 
him over various things. 

On one of these occasions he 
went into Mr. May's private office, 
and saw this green bag lying on his 
desk. "What you got in there, Mr. 
May, some more garden seeds?" 
he asked. "No," said Mr. May, 
"I've got in there the proof sheets 
of the first of May." "By Heaven!" 
said Sennott, "it will be the first of 

April for anybody who tries to read 

When Judge Julius Rockwell 
presided in the Superior Court dur- 
ing the latter years of his life, he 
seemed to be troubled with aching 
feet, and would draw off his long 
boots and sit on the bench with 
nothing but his yarn socks on his 
feet. Thus relieved, he would short- 
ly relapse into sleep, and the trial 
before him progressed in regular 
order, the old gentleman in some 
inscrutable way waking up at the 
right moment, to rule on any ob- 
jections that might be raised. 

When Dennis Mountain was an 
inspector of police in Boston, he 
was sitting in this session of the 
court one day, and while waiting 
for another case to be tried, he 
copied the example of Judge Rock- 
well, and fell asleep in one of the 
chairs usually occupied by jurors, 
on the opposite side of the room. 
Mr. Melvin O. Adams, the Assis- 
tant District Attorney, who was 
trying a case with which Mountain 
had no connection whatever, saw 
his plight, and thought as he could 
not wake up the judge, it would do 
no harm to wake up the police in- 
spector, and when the witness who 
was on the stand had finished, he 
called out the name of the officer 
in a loud tone, and he was roused, 
got on to his feet, and marched 
around the room to the witness 
stand. There he rubbed his eyes 
in dismay, looked around, answered 
to his name, told his business, the 
number of years he had been on 
the force, and then to the question 
as to whether he knew anything 
about the case on trial, said he did 
not remember. He was thereupon 




Ezra Wilkinson, one of the old- 
time Justices of the Superior Court, 
a bachelor living in Wrentham, al- 
ways came to the court house fault- 
lessly attired in a black swallow 
tail coat and suit, with a high black 
stock, carrying his court papers 
and other things in a brilliant col- 
ored carpet bag, with a long rope 
handle. Shortly before he left the 
bench, he became quite deaf, and 
did not readily hear conversation 
addressed to him from any distance. 

On one occasion he was receiv- 
ing the report of the Grand Jury. 
Among the appeal cases was that 
of a battered female who was with- 
drawing her appeal from a sentence 
to the Island for drunkenness. The 
Assistant District Attorney asked 
her if she desired to say anything 
to the court before sentence was 
imposed. She replied that she 
would like to go to New York. 

Deputy Sheriff John Dearborn, 
one of the most amusing characters 
ever seen about the courts, who al- 
ways had several tones in his voice, 
and used them all on arraignment 
day, was in charge of the prisoners 
at the bar, and turning to him 
Judge Wilkinson asked, "Mr. Offi- 
cer, what does the defendant say?" 
In his highest tone Dearborn re- 
plied, "She says she wants to go to 
.New York, your honor." 

Judge Wilkinson dipped his pen 
slowly into the ink bottle, leaned 
back in his chair and surveyed the 
prisoner for a moment through his 
gold-bowed spectacles, and then 
said, "This court has no power to 
sentence you there." A suppressed 
litter at the bar showed that the 
attorneys present appreciated the 
view of New York taken by the 

Some years ago a statute was 
passed which made it a criminal 
offence to be present where any 
gaming implements were found, and 
also condemned for destruction any 
personal property on the premises. 
Under this statute a raid was made 
one Saturday evening on a tene- 
ment house where a quiet game of 
poker was going on in the kitchen. 
The parties playing the game were 
arrested and all of the kitchen fur- 
niture was taken for condemnation, 
the seizure including several arti- 
cles of baby's clothing, which had 
been hung up to dry behind the 
kitchen stove. The case was tried 
before Chief Justice Parmenter, 
Mr. Melvin O. Adams appearing 
for the purpose of saving the furni- 
ture. He claimed that at least the 
baby's clothes were exempt, to 
which the Chief Justice replied that 
they were material to the issue. 

Mr. M. O. Adams and Chief Jus- 
tice Aiken were college-mates at 
Dartmouth and were friends of long 
standing. One day as Mr. Adams 
was in Judge Aiken's court room 
waiting for an opportunity to speak 
with the Chief Justice, a long and 
prosy argument was being ad- 
dressed to the court by a member 
of the bar, who on this occasion 
was especially tiresome. Finally, 
the Chief Justice asked counsel to 
suspend, and called Mr. Adams to 
the bench. In the course of the 
conversation that followed, Mr. 
Adams, with the familiarity of an 
old friend, asked the Chief Justice 
why he had not interrupted the at- 
torney earlier, to which the Chief 
Justice wittily replied, that the at- 
torney was like the Statute of Lim- 
itations, the oftener he was inter- 
rupted the longer he ran. 



Mr. Adams is a Unitarian and 
from the windows of his office in 
the Tremont Building-, the clock 
on the spire of the Orthodox Park 
Street church can be easily seen. 
There being a difference between 
the time indicated by the watch 
carried by Mr. Adams, and the 
watch of a client, the latter to show 
that his watch was correct, called 
attention to its agreement with the 
Park Street church clock, when 
Mr. Adams instantly responded 
with "I recognize the Park Street 
church as an authority for neither 
time, nor eternity." 

Xot a little amusement was once 
caused by the words of a clergyman 
who officiated at the opening of the 
session of the Superior Court in 
one of the outside counties, and 
who was not aware of the fact that 
Judge Wilkinson who presided was 
a bachelor. In closing his invoca- 
tion, the preacher asked that the 
judge who presided at that session 
of the court might be safely re- 
turned to the bosom of his family. 

During his last illness the nurse 
who was attending Judge Wilkin- 
son, went to his bedside and told 
him that he must take the medicine 
she had in her hand. 

"I will not take it," said the 
prim and precise old jurist. 

"But you must take it." 

"But I say I won't." 

"The Doctor says you must." 

"I have already passed upon that 

Of all the humorists at the bench 
or bar none had a more genial per- 
sonality, or a more lovable disposi- 
tion than the late Judge Charles P. 
Thompson of Gloucester, who was 
more generally known as "Charley 
Thompson," and was respected and 

liked by all who knew him. His 
was a ready wit, -and a genial hu- 
mor that placed him easily among 
the first of the humorists of the 
bench and bar. 

While he was holding the Jury 
Waived Session of the court in 
Boston, a lawyer appeared before 
him considerably under the influ- 
ence of liquor. At the conclusion 
of the arguments the attorney in 
question approached the bench, and 
in response to a statement made by 
opposing counsel, said "Your hon- 
or, I stand upon that proposition." 
"And the Scriptures say, 'Let him 
that seemeth to stand, take heed 
lest he fall,' " was the instant re- 
joinder of the quick witted jurist, 
who had not failed to observe the 
condition of the somewhat befud- 
dled pleader. 

Judge Thompson stammered at 
times, and this defect in his speech 
added not a little to the humor of 
his remarks. In one of the cases 
in which he appeared as counsel, a 
witness was questioned at consid- 
erable length in regard to the con- 
dition of a man at a certain time. 
The inquiry, which did not appear 
to be material, was protracted be- 
yond all reason, and Mr. Thompson 
becoming annoyed at its inordinate 
and unnecessary length, finally 
interposed with "You need not 
p-p-p-p-ur-sue that line of inquiry 
any further, I'm a c-c-c-om-pe-tent 
witness myself." 

"Catching everything down that 
way I presume?" was the greeting 
of one of Judge Thompson's friends 
upon his return from his period of 
service as a member of the national 
House of Representatives. "Yes," 
was the quick rejoinder, "every- 
thing but the speaker's eye." 




One of the best stories told of 
Judge Thompson, is the one in 
which Barney McBride, a big; good 
natured Irishman of Lynn, who 
had an exceedingly florid face, fig- 
ures. The police after a number of 
attempts finally succeeded late one 
Saturday night in finding a pint 
bottle of whiskey in Barney's place, 
and he was thereupon haled into 
court, upon the charge of keeping 
and exposing intoxicating liquors 
for sale, and the case was set down 
for trial, Judge Sherman, who at 
that time was District Attorney for 
Essex, appearing for the govern- 
ment. The evidence, which was 
unimpeached, clearly showed that 
the whiskey was found on the 
premises, and it looked as though 
the government would have little 
trouble in securing a conviction, 
especially as the trial was to be 
before that staunch Prohibitionist, 
Judge Robert C. Pitman of New 
Bedford. In the course of his ar- 

gument, Mr. Thompson, who ap- 
peared for McBride, said, "I asked 
a man that I met this morning on 
my way to the depot, how much 
liquor he had to have in order to 
get through Sunday, and he said, 
'Three pints, Charley.' This man 
had only one pint, your honor, 
hardly enough to take him through 
his morning devotions." Then turn- 


ing to his client, he said, "Barney, 
stand up ! I want you to look up- 
on the jury." Turning then to the 
jury, he said, "Gentlemen of the 
Jury, will you be kind enough to 
look upon the defendant. I make 
this request, Gentlemen, because I 
am going to ask you by and by, 
whether in your opinion a man who 
looks like that, with a face like that, 
and who is f-f-f-f-ound to have 
only a pint of whiskey on his 
p-p-p-p-p-prem-i-ses late on Satur- 
day night to carry him over Sun- 
day, has any of that liquor for 



sale." Without leaving the box, 

jury returned a verdict of ac- 

While Mr. Thompson represent- 
ed the Gloucester district in the 
lower branch of the Legislature, the 
bill authorizing the society to sell 
the Old South Church came up for 
final disposition, and a very strenu- 
ous argument in favor of its pas- 
sage was made by a well known 
clergyman of Newton. When the 
Reverend gentleman had closed his 
protracted remarks. Judge Thomp- 
son rose slowly to his feet, and 
said. "Mr. Speaker, I have listened 
to the arguments in this case with 
a great deal of interest, and I have 
come to the conclusion. Sir, that the 
t-t-t-ime has arrived when the Lord 
God Almighty can no longer own 
a corner lot in Boston." 

The defeat of the bill which fol- 
lowed, was probably as much due 
to the short address of Judge 
Thompson, as to anything that was 
brought out in the course of the 

While arguing a case before a 
jury, Mr. Thompson was frequent- 
ly accustomed to raise his voice to 
a high pitch, because by doing this 
he was less liable to stammer. In 
a case tried before Judge Lord of 
the Supreme Court, one of the jur- 
ors informed Judge Lord that he 
was suffering with a severe head- 
ache, which was aggravated by the 
high tone of voice sometimes used 
by Mr. Thompson. lie closed by 
requesting the court to ask Mr. 
Thompson to lower his voice, in 
case he raised it to the high pitch. 
Winn Mr. Thompson later, in the 
course of his argument, raised his 
voire, Judge- Lord told him what 
the juror had said. "Yes, vour 

honor," was Mr. Thompson's reply, 
with an injured air, that added 
greatly to the comedy of the situa- 
tion, "but won't you allow me to 
speak loud enough to keep that 
juror in the corner there, awake?" 

In the controversy growing out 
of the Hayes-Tilden election, Judge 
Thompson, then a Democratic mem- 
ber of the National House, was 
chairman of the special committee 
on elections, which went to Flori- 
da, and heard evidence bearing up- 
on the alleged frauds. Among the 
witnesses who were summoned to 
appear before the committee, was 
an old colored man. After he had 
given his direct evidence Judge 
Thompson took him in hand, and 
the examination proceeded thus. 

"What did you say your name 
was ?" 

"Ebenezer Ross." 

"You are the election officer in 
this precinct?" 

"Yas, sir! Yas, sir!" 

"You had charge of the ballots 

"Yas, sir! Yas, sir!" 

"And you counted them?" 

"Yas, sir!" 

"Now, sir, have you had any talk 
with anyone about these ballots, 
since election?" 

"Yas, sir!" 

"With whom have you talked 
about these ballots?" 

"With Mar's Buffum." (Buf- 
fum was a prominent Republican 

"Well, what did Mr. Buffum say 
to you?" 

"Well, Mar's Buffum— he tole 
me to tell the truf — and he tole me 
to be d — d slow about it, too." 

A young attorney who had 
brought a bill in equity, went to the 



court where Judge Thompson was 
presiding, and after explaining his 
bill, which contained an unusual 
number of prayers, passed the paper 
to the clerk, who in turn handed it 
to the court. Judge Thompson 
read it over carefully, and then 
turning to the young attorney said, 
"You have certainly obeyed the 
Scriptural injunction — you have 
'prayed without ceasing.' ,: 

Frank C. Richardson, Esq., who 
was in the Salem office of Judge 
Thompson, and in an adjoining 
room at the time, overheard a con- 
versation between Judge Thompson 
and a client, who was charged with 
having received stolen property, 
and with having bought junk of 
some boys. The case was pending 
in the Superior Criminal Court, the 
time for trial was drawing near, 
and Mr. Thompson in two or three 
previous interviews had tried to 
impress upon his client the import- 
ance of making some preparation 
for the trial of the case. In this he 
had failed, and at this interview he 
was especially strenuous with his 
client, and tried to impress upon 
him the importance of furnishing 
him with some witnesses in regard 
to the facts of the case. "I can 
furnish the wind in this case," he 
said, "but I cannot furnish the wit- 
nesses, and unless you bring in 
some witnesses, the District Attor- 
ney will accomplish his purpose, and 
land you in the state prison." The 
client, who was a prominent mem- 
ber of the church, and appeared to 
be very pious, said, "Mr. Thomp- 
son, they may imprison my body, 
but my soul will be free." Quick 
as a flash Mr. Thompson rejoined, 
"Never mind the canary; it's the 
cage I'm trying to save." 

In the trial of a case before a 
jury at Salem where a colored man 
sued on account of injuries caused 
by being bitten by a dog, Judge 
Sherman appeared for the defend- 
ant, and Mr. Thompson for the 
plaintiff. The defendant had offered 
fourteen dollars to settle the case. 
In the course of his argument, 
Judge Sherman referring to Mr. 
Thompson's being a Democrat, 
facetiously said that counsel on the 
other side had not always been so 
solicitous for the colored man's wel- 
fare. When Mr. Thompson came 
to his argument in referring to 
Judge Sherman, then a lawyer at 
the Essex bar, he said: "My friend 
has said that I have not always 
shown the same solicitude for the 
colored man that I do in this case, 
referring I presume, to the fact that 
I did not believe that the great war 
that was made for the purpose of 
freeing the slaves, was necessary, 
and my friend did believe it was 
necessary, and now after all the 
sacrifice of money and of men that 
was made for that purpose, he has 
the audacity to come into court and 
offer to sell that same colored man 
for fourteen dollars a bite." 

Mr. Richardson to whom we are 
indebted for these later stories, had 
many pleasant arguments with 
Judge Thompson when he was in 
his office at Salem. 

General Charles W. Bartlett, and 
Mr. Samuel J. Elder, both of whom 
are wits of no mean order, appeared 
as counsel on opposite sides, and 
General Bartlett had an Irish wit- 
ness on the stand. After getting 
from the witness his name and resi- 
dence, General Bartlett asked : 

"Now Mr. Maguinness, will you 
tell the jury where you were, and 



what you saw on the afternoon of 
May fifth " 

Maguinness: "Misther Bartlett, 
can oi have a word with you sor?" 

General Bartlett: "No, Mr. Ma- 
guinness. you are on the witness 
stand, and you cannot confer with 
counsel now. Tell the jury what 
you saw, and heard. 

Maguinness repeated: "Misther 
Bartlett, can't oi have just a word 
with you?'' 

The court, the officers, and coun- 
sel on both sides tried to stop him, 
but he couldn't be stopped, came 
ambling off the stand, and ap- 
proaching General Bartlett, in a 
hoarse stage whisper asked "Mis- 
ther Bartlett, where are those 

Messrs. Bartlett and Elder fig- 
ured as counsel in another case, 
a suit for personal injuries, in 
which Mr. Elder, as he supposed, 
had General Bartlett thoroughly 
whipped. The plaintiff, a woman, in 
trying to board an electric car at 
Columbus and Massachusetts ave- 
nues, found she had made a mis- 
take in the car, stepped from the 
car, and backed away, and into the 
hind wheel of the defendant's ex- 
press wagon, which was between 
the car tracks, and the curb. She 
testified that the team ran her 
down, but not only the conductor 
of the car, one or two persons on 
the sidewalk, but several persons in 
the car, including a professor of the 
Institute of Technology, saw and 
testified just how the accident oc- 
curred. General Bartlett was not 
in the least phased by this however, 
and in examining the driver said: 

"Did you call out to the woman 
-when you saw her?" 


"What did you say?" 

"Oh, I don't know what I said. I 
guess I said 'Hullo !' (The witness 
answered in a very low tone of 
voice, as men who are loudest out 
of doors, frequently do when they 
are in court.) 

"Oh, did you know the lady?" 


"Had you ever been introduced 
to the lady?" 


"And you shouted 'Hullo !' to a 
lady you didn't know?" 

In General Bartlett's deliberate 
and inimitable manner it was excru- 
ciatingly funny. He rang all the 
changes possible on that "Hullo!" 
and sure enough by it laughed a 
little verdict out of the jury. 

A good joke on Mr. Elder, and 
one that Judge Hardy says must 
go into his obituary when he ar- 
rives at that dignity, occurred in 
the trial of a case at Cambridge 
some years ago. He appeared for 
a very old man, who had left the 
cars at the Winchester station, and 
testified that they started sudden- 
ly, and threw him to the station 
platform, causing the injuries which 
were the basis of the suit. A lot 
of witnesses testified that he was 
asleep in the car, did not see when 
the train reached Winchester, woke 
up only after it had started, rushed 
to the platform, and was thrown 
and injured while trying to get off. 
In his argument to the jury, Mr. 
Elder claimed that it was absurd 
to say that he was asleep. "Why, 
Gentlemen," he said, "he had 
reached the age when the almond 
tree flourisheth, and they are afraid 
of that which is high, and they that 
look out of the windows are dark- 
ened, and fears are in the way. 



What does this corporation say 
this careful old man, returning to 
his home at mid-day, was doing? 
Why, Gentlemen, they tell you he 
was asleep." 

As he gave- these words their 
most effective utterance, he turned 
slowly around toward his client, 
the eyes of every juror on the panel 
following him, and there in spite of 
the important interests that were 
at stake, in spite of all the eloquence 
of his learned counsel, the old man 
sat well snuggled down in his 
chair, sound asleep. 

Thomas J. Gargan was trying a 
will case, and was seeking to have 
the instrument set aside on the 
ground of the incompetency of the 
testator. An Irish woman was put 
on the stand by the proponent, and 
on the cross examination, Mr. Gar- 
gan asked her how long she had 
known the testator. 

"If it's Mike Connolly ye mean, 
I've known him for five arid thirty 

"Did you ever hear that during 
the latter part of his life, he had 
softening of the brain?" 

"Softening of the brain," repeat- 
ed the witness, "divvle a hard it 
ever was during his whole life !" 

When Mr. Gargan was a member 
of the Great and General Court in 
1876, on the day before Good Fri- 
day, he moved for an adjournment 
over that day. Another member 
rose and asked Mr. Gargan if he 
had ever known of the Legislatures 
adjourning over Good Friday. "At 
this moment," replied Mr. Gargan, 
"I can recall but one court that sat 
upon that day, and Pontius Pilate 
presided over that one." 

Mr. Gargan was defending a well 
known character at the West end, 

who dealt in empty barrels such as 
whiskey, brandy, wine, and beer. 
He had acquired considerable prop- 
erty, and in one of his buildings had 
a large storage loft, and cellar. He 
never sold intoxicating liquors, but 
once in a great while would over- 
indulge in stimulants, and on such 
occasions was particularly abusive 
to the police officers, one of whom, 
in order to get even, obtained a 
warrant, searched his place, and 
found a demijohn containing a gal- 
lon of whisky. Keeping and ex- 
posing with intent to sell was the 
charge upon which he was taken to 
court, where Judge Pitman, an able 
lawyer, and a leading advocate of 
Prohibition, occupied the bench. 
During the examination of the de- 
fendant Judge Pitman broke in, 
saying rather quickly, "You had a 
number of whisky barrels; that 
was suspicious. For what purpose 
did you have the whisky in that 
demijohn?" Looking at the judge 
knowingly, the defendant replied, 
"That was a private drop, your 
honor, for the Fourth of July, or 
Thanksgiving. Your honor knows 
how that is yourself." Even Judge 
Pitman could not repress a smile. 

A recent comer from abroad, who 
went into the real estate business, 
was not building in accordance 
with the provisions of the law, and 
it became necessary to get him into 
court in order to convince him of 
the error of his ways. The sher- 
iff's officer who had been sent in 
search of him, reported that he had 
found a cousin of the man who was 
wanted, but that the man himself 
had moved to Providence the fall 
before. Within an hour Samuel M. 
Child met the very man he wanted 
in City Hall avenue, asked him what 



he had boon trying- to work on the 
sheriff's officer, and closed by ask- 
ing him whore he lived then. 

"Oh, down on Poplar street," 
was the reply. 

"Thought yon moved to Provi- 
dence last fall?" 

"So help me God, Mr. Child, I 
missed the train !" 

District Attorney Thomas E. 
Grover of the Sonth Eastern Dis- 
trict which includes the counties of 
Plymouth and Norfolk, is one of 
the best story tellers at the bar, and 
is never more at home than when 
he is in the midst of a party which 
can appreciate a story that is well 
told. In the early days of his prac- 
tice, he defended a man who had 
run away from a charge of break- 
ing and entering. In his charge, 
the presiding judge said that the 
jury should consider as bearing up- 
on the question of the man's guilt, 
the fact that the crime had been 
committed, that he had absented 
himself from the town where he 
lived, and that his absence was un- 
explained, the court adding, "for 
as the Bible says 'The wicked flee 
when no man pursueth, but the 
righteous are bold as a lion.' " 

Mr. Grover immediately asked 
the court to also rule that the Bible 
also says, "the wise man foreseeth 
the evil, and hideth himself, while 
the wicked go on, and are pun- 
ished," but the court held that this 
hardly applied, and the matter was 
dropped in a manner that showed 

that the quick turn of the lawyer 
was not at all appreciated by the 

While in the court room at Taun- 
ton some years ago, Mr. Grover 
was informed by a court officer, 
that a man in the detention room 
wanted to see him. He went there, 
and this conversation ensued. 

"Are you a lawyer?" 


"What'll you defend me for?" 

"What are you charged with?" 

"Breaking and entering a store 
in Fall River, and larceny of under- 

"I'll take the case for twenty-five 
dollars. You want to testify?" 

"I don't know. What will the 
District Attorney ask me?" 

"I don't know what he'll ask 
you. I can't tell." 

"Question me pretty close won't 

"I presume so. He's a pretty 
smart man." 

"Well, I won't go on the stand." 

Later, when the jury had re- 
turned a verdict of guilty, Mr. 
Grover, whose curiosity had been 
aroused by his client's refusal to 
testify, went to the detention room, 
saw him, and asked: 

"Why were you so unwilling to 
go on the stand?" 

"I thought I would be asked 
about that underclothing." 

"What if you had been asked 
about it?" 

"I've got it on." 

The Seven Adventures of John Henry 

By Grace Liscome Hevvett 


The Errand for Miss McTwaddle 

JOHN HENRY is the middle 
member of the family. That 
means doing all kinds of dis- 
agreeable things. The older ones 
are too old and the younger ones 
are too young — poor John Henry ! 
He had to go way down the hill 
past the freight house with its line 
of happy smoking boys to get the 
mail. He had to trudge three dusty 
miles to have the shoes mended 
and then he had to go past the 
freight house, too. Other boys 
might go in, but John Henry was 

One very rainy day, Miss Mc- 
Twaddle, the Miss McTwaddle, in 

her mackintosh and floppy rubbers 
came over to know if John Henry 
mightn't please take a small bundle 
down to ^he freight house for her. 
Of course, she would have had thev 
expressman come as she surely 
would have done, if it had been 
any other kind of a bundle, but 
this bundle was for southern Ten- 
nessee, where she had taught that 
year, and of course she wanted to 
send as much as she could, so she 
thought that if John Henry would 
take the bundle down for her, he 
would do his little part. It was 
always well to begin mission work 
young. When she was a child, 
even younger than John Henry, she 
had given five whole cents to a 
very needy individual, who had 
said that he must have some stim- 




ulant to keep him alive. She had 
always remembered that because it 
was the only time that she had ever 
aided in the sale of intoxicating" 

John Henry's two younger broth- 
ers interrupted with a series of 
staccato shrieks. John Henry was 
inoculating- them into the science 
of electric shocks whereby they 
could easily pick up a real live 
wire that would kill an ordinary 
person at once. His battery con- 
sisted of a long coil of thick string 
with a pin on the end. It had 
taken a long time to twist the 
string but John Henry's grin was 
satisfaction itself. 

"Now, John Henry, will you take 
a small bundle down to the freight 
house for me?'' said Miss McTwad- 
dle with a condescending smile — 
Miss McTwaddle had once been 
supposed to have a dimple, but she 
modestly assured people that she 
never could find it, while they be- 
hind her back assured each other 
that they never could either. John 
Henry answered with a downcast 
"Yes'm." He couldn't let his 
mother or Miss McTwaddle see 
how delighted he was. It would 
never do. 

"Very well, then," replied Miss 
McTwaddle, "put on your rubbers 
and the cape to your sister's old 
mackintosh and your oldest cap and 
an umbrella. I think that's all he 
will need isn't it?" she said to John 
] [enry's mother. "Now go get your 
cart and draw it over to our house!" 

John Henry obediently put on 
the cape and the rubbers and his 
oldest brother's best cap. Then he 
perched his thumb conveniently on 
his nose and drew his cart over to 
Miss McTwaddle's. 

The Misses McTwaddle strug- 
gled with a great bundle carefully 
wrapped up. "Now, John Henry," 
said Miss McTwaddle, "this is a 
bundle for the poor children in Til- 
den, Tennessee. They don't have 
very many comforts out there. 
They have to go without shoes and 
stockings all the year. Isn't that 

"Gee, if I only could," sighed 
John Henry. 

"What did you say, John Henry?" 

"Why, Miss McTwaddle," stam- 
mered John Henry, "I said — I said 
— wasn't it too bad that they 
couldn't have some of ours." 

"Well, John Henry," said Miss 
McTwaddle, "you should always 
be mindful of the luxuries God has 
given you and always be ready to 
do your little part. Now be very 
careful of that package. Don't let 
it get wet; that's the way that you 
can do your little part in this good 

The Misses McTwaddle lived on 
a hill where they could see all the 
passing. John Henry was always 
heedful when he felt Miss Mc- 
Twaddle's watchful eye fixed upon 
him. He drew the cart carefully 
down the hill, even turning around 
two or three times to see if the 
bundle was on his cart and if he 
could, whether Miss McTwaddle's 
eye was. Poor John Henry, it al- 
ways was. He held his umbrella 
rigidly over his brother's best cap 
and turned the corner in safety. 

Jimmy and Pete Munro were sit- 
ting on the edge of the sidewalk 
with their feet in a delightful stream 
that ran down the gutter. "What 
cher got, 'Shuggsy?'" said Pete. 
"This is a bundle for the heathen, 
who don't have to wear shoes. I've 



MAatu ti Hii_t-> 


got ter go down t' the freight 
house, come on, do," said John 
Henry. "Bet I c'n beat the both 
on yer," cried Jimmy. "Cm on/' 
yelled Pete. He grabbed the han- 
dle of John Henry's cart. The cart 
rapped their heels ; John Henry's 
umbrella showed a remarkable fond- 
ness for John Henry's legs ; it fin- 
ally reached the point where it 
could no longer keep away and 
John Henry landed in the mud. 
The cart rolled over his shoulders 
and pitched the bundle into the 

"Hurt, John Henry?" cried Pete 
and Jimmy racing back. "Not 
much," said John Henry, sitting up. 
"I guess I got some dirt on my face 
'n a whole lot in my mouth. Oh, 
say," he cried suddenly, "now when 
I spit it looks like I had real tobac- 
co in my mouth — ain't that great?" 

"Hi," yelled Jimmy, "Twaddie's 
bundle's in the water — whatever'll 
.you do, Shuggs?" 

"Aw," said John Henry, "it ain't 
busted in the water it's only rolled 
in. She never'll know whether it's 
wet or not when it gets there unless 
you tell her." Pete and Jimmy 
hoisted in the bundle and they 
started away. 

The freight agent was a most ad- 
mirable man. He was tall and aw- 
fully strong. He could smoke fifty 
cigars in one day and say ten times 
as many swear words in that very 
same length of time. The freight 
agent was not a friend of Miss Mc- 
Twaddle. She had tried many times 
to reason with him and every time 
he had said something very shock- 
ing — shall I repeat it — it is awful — 
very well then, he had said "go to 
the devil," those were his very 
words, my dear. 

When the freight agent heard 
that the boys had a package of Miss 
McTwaddle's he gave them a cigar 
apiece and invited them into his 
office. In there, he listened to their 



story; how they had started to run 
and the bundle had fallen out into 
the ditch and was soaking wet now. 
The Freight agent laughed immod- 
erately. He laughed again. Miss 
McT waddle, he assured them, would 
never know. It took days and days 
to go there and by that time it 
would be dry — very likely there 
would be a big storm anyway be- 
fore it reached Tilden; the boys 
needn't worry. 

"Now."' said John Henry on the 
way home, "that's done. I've got 
to wash my face and hands before 
she sees me — just brush off my 
clothes, will yer fellers?" John 
Henry took off his eap and let the 
rain flatten down his hair, then he 
parted the front with his hands and 
put his eap on again. 

'"Oh, Shuggsy," said Pete, "this 
mud'll never come off of your cape." 

"Douse it in the water, Pete n 
she'll think it's rained hard," an- 
swered John Henry. "You two 
fellers stay behind while I go up 'n 
tell her her bundle's safe. Wonder 
what she'll give me?" 

"Burnt cookie," said Pete, who 
had had experience. John Henry 
rolled out his tongue for answer 
and departed. 

"Oh, is it you, John Henry? 
Why didn't you come to the back 
dour; my father never let me go to 
tin- front door when we were chil- 
dren. Did you deliver my bundle 
safely? Do you know whether it 
has gone or not? Eve just received 
another pair of stockings and I 
would like to have them go too." 

"Yes'm," said John Henry think- 
ing of the children, "the freight 
agenl said he'd send it right off. T 
told him you said to hurry 'n he 
said he would." 

"Why, John Henry," exclaimed 
"Miss McTwaddle, "you know I 
never said to have him hurry it. 
My father always told us that lying 
would bring us to everlasting pun- 
ishment. I know I meant to have 
it hurry but I never said so. Never 
mind about the other pair of stock- 
ings, I will send those later. There's 
a cooky for you. It is only half 
burned, the rest is quite good, very 
good I know because I made it my- 
self. Here's a penny for you to put 
in the Sunday school box for the 
poor little children who can't earn 
any, it will save your father some- 
thing. I am not overpaying you be- 
cause I'm going away next Sunday, 
so that I shan't have any opportun- 
ity to put that in the box." 




John Henry and the Lady's Garden 

"John Henry, dear," said the lady 
across the way, "won't you come 
and weed my garden for me? I'll 
give you fifty cents a week if you'll 
come. Do come, John Henry, dear." 
John Henry was a boy and he 
couldn't see the use of being a boy 
if he had to be called "my dear" 
all the time, only girls did that. 
"But," said his mother, "she likes 
you very much, very much indeed." 

"Oh, dear," sighed 
John Henry, "I sup- 
pose she does." 

"John Henry, 
dear," said the lady 
across the way, "I 
want you to weed 
this asparagus bed. 
It really isn't very 
large for a big boy y^j 
like you. If you 
work right along, 
you'll be through 
before noon, and the 
sun isn't really very hot, if you 
don't think about it. You're such 
a nice boy, too, I like to have you 
weed my garden, I shouldn't want 
to trust any boy in here, they might 
steal something, but of course you 
never would think of taking any- 
thing would you, John Henry, 

"Oh, dear," groaned John Henry, 
"I don't s'pose I can even hook an 
apple if she's going to stay round, 
'n I can't stop to rest in the shade 
at all. Oh, dear! Don't I just hate 
that word, though. I don't care if 
my mother does say it's wicked to 
swear I'd rather than to hear that 
everlasting "dear, dear," I ain't a 
girl. Gosh darn it, I ain't." 

John Henry worked hard, he 
weeded fully one length of the as- 
paragus bed without stopping even 

to whistle. The sun was hot, very 
hot; the shade was very cool and 
inviting. "O, de — darn 1 mean," 
corrected John Henry, "this is aw- 
ful. Oh, I'm hot." The sweat 
rolled down his face and left little 
white streaks behind. John Henry 
was hot ; even his mind boiled. The 
shade was very cool. If she'd only 
leave. He stopped to rub his dirty 
hands over his face. She was look- 
ing at him ; he could 
not stop quite yet. 
Jerk, jerk, up came 
one weed, then an- 
other — whew ! wasn't 
it hot? 

"Oh," groaned 
John Henry. 

"You're a fine lit- 
tle worker, John 
Henry," said the 
lady, "I think that 
there's a bottle of 
root beer on ice." 
"Gee," exclaimed John Henry. 
"When you finish that bed," said 
the lady^ "you can have it." 
"Oh P said John Henry. 
John Henry weeded very fast for 
a few minutes, then he looked out 
of the corner of his eye. The shade 
was inviting. 

"My mother," began John Henry, 
straightening up under a small tree. 
"Yes?" said the lady. 
"My mother — er said it was go- 
ing to be a hot day." 

"Oh, yes," said the lady. 
John Henry pulled up another 
row of weeds. He was awfully hot 
and there were seven, no nine rows 
more to do. He really felt a pain 
in his head. There were two or 



three when he stopped to think. 
His head might be going around so 
that he couldn't count straight. He 
really didn't know how many there 
were. What would his mother do 
if he should die? They would have 
to buy a coffin and put him in it in 
the parlor. Then they would all 
come to look at him and cry. He 
cried a little him- 
self. He reallv felt 

-Why! John Hen- 
ry." said the lady 
across the way, "you 
haven't pulled a sin- 
gle weed for three 
minutes. I don't call 
that a very good 
way to work." 

"I was thinking" 
said John Henry 
rather crosslv. 

'Well," observed 
the lady, "the time 
to think is when you 
are in school. You 
can't have that root 
beer if you work 
that way. I shall 
drink it with my 

John Henry's brain dropped a 
few degrees. John Henry liked 
root beer. He pulled up tall heavy 
weeds that belonged to several 
generations ago. 

"Be very careful, John Henry," 
warned the lady, "if you should tear 
up the asparagus you would have 
to pay for it. That's the only way 
I have to protect my bed from 
small boys. They're more careful 
when I take it out of their pay." 

"Oh, dear," sighed John Henry, 
"what shall I do? First it's too 
slow and then it's too fast. It's al- 

together too bad. Oh, darn, there!" 
"Gee," exclaimed John Henry 
under his breath, "I know it's cool 
under that tree. If I only dared. 
My mother said — oh, I don't. John 
Henry swallowed hard then he 
burst forth suddenly, "My mother 
said that I wasn't to forget to tell 
you that Mrs. Staples wanted you 
to come to her house 
to lunch to-day." 

"Did she really?" 
exclaimed the lady. 
"Well, I don't won- 
der though, she has 
often said that she 
meant to have me 
come. Mrs. Staples 
has such a lovely 
house, that I just 
love to go there. 
Did she say she 
would have the car- 
riage come for me, 
John Henry, my 

"No," said John 
Henry, "she asked 
_^_= if you'd forgive her 
but she had given 
her coachman a holi- 
day and she didn't 
know how to harness the horses." 
"Well, that's all right," said the 
lady condescendingly, — she had 
been invited to Mrs. Staples' to 
lunch. "Do you think that you can 
finish that asparagus bed alone? 
I'll leave the key to the kitchen door 
with you so that you can get your 
root beer when you've finished." 
"Yes'm," said John Henry, meekly. 
He pulled a few more weeds very 
slowly, until the lady had gone. 
"There," said John Henry, "I've 
been 'n gone 'n done it — won't she 
be mad when she gets back. I'll 



just rest for a few minutes so that 
I c'n work faster." John Henry 
threw himself down in the shade. 
It was cool there ; he had known it 
all the time. Bye and bye he would 
get up and finish the old weeds, 
then he could have the root beer. 
John Henry rested. He knew that 
he ought to finish that bed, but it 
was too hot out there. He was so 
comfortable where he was. He 
wondered if it would do any harm 
if he just looked at the root beer. 
Anyway he thought he'd just look 
to see if it was there. 

John Henry unlocked the back 
door softly and stole over to the 
refrigerator. There were two bot- 
tles there. John Henry looked out 
of the window. The sun was still 
blazing. If he could drink only 
half a tumbler, he would feel just 
like pulling weeds. He uncorked 
the bottle — wasn't that sizz dinkey? 
He drank nearly half a bottle. It 
tasted awfully good. He would 
drink just one swallow more. Then 
he took a big long swallow, because 
if he could have only one, he want- 
ed to drink as much as he could. 
Then he grew brave. Since he 
could have one bottle, why couldn't 

he drink it now as well as at any 
other time. John Henry smacked 
his lips, it was so good. He wished 
that they put more root beer into 
one bottle. Some people were 
stingy anyway. She was one of 
those people. It would serve her 
right if he did drink two. She'd 
make an awful fuss, though. Per- 
haps she thought that there was 
only one on ice. She had said that 
she would drink his for lunch and 
she never would drink two. The 
other had tasted mighty good. If 
he just took a little swallow she 
wouldn't know. 

John Henry opened the refrigera- 
tor door. Then he shut it again. 
The other tasted so good. He 
would take it out of his fifty cents 
if she found it out. She probably 
would take it out any way. He 
opened the door and took out the 
bottle. Just three swallows won't 
make any difference. 

When John Henry had taken 
three swallows the bottle was 
empty. John Henry eyed it rue- 
fully. He washed one bottle and 
put it under the sink. Perhaps she 
wouldn't notice it. Anyway it 
wasn't any good to be sorry now. 


He carefully locked the back door 
and put the key under the mat. 

Now he would finish the weeding. 
But first he would stop a few min- 
utes in the shade — just throw him- 
self down. 

up and finish those weeds, but he 
would just stay a few minutes. 
Soon John Henry's mind was be- 
yond his control, and the lady 
across the way, very hot and very 
dusty, reached Mrs. Staples' hand- 

It was hot and John Henry was some house. Mrs. Staples was not 
sleepy. He knew he ought to get at home. Poor John Henry! 

A H 


By Francis Ingold Walker 

A restful, quiet place I know; 

A cot behind a grape-vine hedge, 
Where dahlias blossom in a row, 

Along the 

garden's edge. 

It still more restful seems, I think. 

When Grandma brews her pot of tea; 

And, from the mulberry cup, I drink, 
While seeking Grandma's sympathy. 

Down from the wall looks Grandma's self, 
When she was but a twelve-year's lass, 

And peacock feathers deck the shelf 
Beside the brown-framed looking-glass. 

And Grandma knows of all good things, 
They used to make in old-time clays : 

Her brush brooms are but turkey wings, 
At night her tallow candles blaze. 

If Grandma knows of Sorrow's bond, 
As, by her widow's cap, she must! 

She turns it to a magic wand, 

To win, from others, love and trust. 

For, in her quiet home, to-day, 

With memories sweet as lavender, 

Her calm soul is the restful stay 
Of weary hearts that turn to her! 

A Thanksgiving Opportunity 

By Grace Blanch ard 


RS. KITTREDGE laid down 
a letter and sighed ; took up 
another and sighed. 

"All our relatives politely say 
that it is a pity we are too far off 
to be invited to Thanksgiving, but 
that it is our fault that we are so 

"And then, having licked you, 
poor little mumsie, they sign them- 
selves 'Very lovingly yours' — ugh !" 
sputtered the lank and lively daugh- 
ter whose youthful temper was still 
further fretted by her vain attempt 
to mend a tennis racquet before 
putting it away for the winter. 

"It is my fault, mama, and I wish 
they would blame it all onto me," 
Marcia Kittredge protested, laying 
down the magazine she had been 
cutting, and crossing over to her 
little mother's chair. "If" (kiss) "I 
hadn't stubbornly" (pat) "taken the 
position of librarian in this wild- 
west city, astray up here in New 
Hampshire, you" (hug) "wouldn't 
now be confronted with the pros- 
pect of a boarding-house turkey." 

"Perhaps your elder brother will 
send a box of goodies, or does he 
want us to try husks a while long- 
er?" suggested the ruffled youthful 

"Jessie, dear! you know we could 
not let Marcia come off alone to 
this lumber town, and unfortunate- 
ly she had to take the position now 
or lose it. Thanksgiving isn't for 
four days yet and perhaps our pic- 
tures will arrive to make this room 


look less forlorn ; and dinners are 
usually better at pensions on holi- 

"Meantime, let us make our 
charms known," mutinied Jessie. 
"I don't want to waste my sweet- 
ness on you and Marlie, and if she 
blushes unseen, why, so much the 
worse for the missing spectators. 
For you are, sister, yes, you are a 
whole Delaware crop of them ; isn't 
she, mother?" 

"She certainly is a dear, good 
daughter about retrieving the fam- 
ily fortunes. You'll do as much, 
some day." 

"Oh, those family fortunes ! I'll 
not wait till I'm twenty-three be- 
fore I butt in and become a retriever 

And whistling saucily as if to a 
dog, Jessie made one motion, her 
hat was on ; another, her coat was 
buttoned ; a third and she was out 
of the house and starting down the 
business street. There she went 
more slowly, staring thoughtfully 
at signs and want advertisements. 
At last she stopped short, laughed, 
and darted up a stairway at the foot 
of which newsboys were waiting 
for their papers. 

All that evening she was un- 
usually quiet and angelic, and 
when bed-time came she clung to 
her mother entreating whimsically, 
"With all my faults you love me 
still? Say you do, mumsie." 

The next night, up in the grand 
house of the town, in a bare yet 




splendid room two men sat reading 
the papers, too frankly bored by 
each other to make conversation 
over the items encountered in the 
columns. From across the street 
came the roar and rumble of the 
immense lumber mills owned by 
these men. but the sound was too 
familiar to disturb their reading. 
There was a family resemblance in 
the two. though their ages differed 
greatly, and as a maid announced 
dinner and they rose, the young 
man motioned the old gentleman 
ahead with a deferential, "After 
you. Grandad." 

It was a repast well calculated to 
prevent a man's missing his city 
home or club, yet it was not festive 
and at its end the young man said, 
"Blamed bad luck that the new 
machinery had to arrive and call 
you away from home just at this 
time, sir. You haven't missed carv- 
ing a turkey for how many years?" 

"Forty-nine since your grand- 
mother and I went to keeping house, 
Robbie. But I needn't complain of 
being up in the wilds one Thanks- 
giving, when you and your brother 
are exiles here year in and year out." 

"Except this year, Grandad, 
when Jim is seeing gay Paree in- 
stead of overseeing the mill-hands. 
Well, sir, shall we resume our 
feast of reason?" and he picked up 
and handed the newspaper to the 
courtly old gentleman. 

Soon he himself, however, was 
heard to chuckle. 

"This is something like," he mur- 
mured. "For alluring abandon 
Paree isn't in it compared with 
this;" and his eyes danced again 
over these few lines in the want 
column of the evening paper: 

"Three charming women would 

like to be invited to Thanksgiving 
dinner. Inquire at Reference Room 
of Public Library between 5 and 
6 p. m." 

"By Jove, I will — that is, if I have 
to drive down town to-morrow. 
Probably I'd draw a blue-stocking, 
though there's a naivete about 
that advertisement which promises 
something better." 

Not only did he have to go to 
town the next afternoon, but the 
long list of errands his housekeeper 
asked him to execute was so com- 
plicated to his masculine mind that 
he would have forgotten she had 
said that women-folks were of 
all things most needed for their 
Thanksgiving supplies, if his horse," 
taking a rapid pace homeward, had 
not almost collided with a group of 
urchins crossing the street to the 
Public Library. 

"The place ! The hour !" Ro- 
bert recollected in amusement. 
"Stand there, Dolly, while I inquire 

Jumping from the buggy he en- 
tered the vestibule of the library. 
He caught a glimpse of a blonde 
head bending over the delivery desk 
toward the urchins, a smile making 
them slaves, and capable, fair 
hands gathering in the books on 
whose title-pages the boys had in- 
scribed, "This is a good storrie," 
"Bully," "Pritty curdline," "Rot- 
ten" or "Dandy." 

Robert Elson turned to the right 
and entered the reference room. 
Its only occupant seemed much at 
home there. She was swinging 
gaily around in a student's revolv- 
ing chair, committing, in an under- 
tone, the lines of Sill's "Opportun- 
ity" from the volume of his poems 
open on her lap. 



Robert approached, hat in hand. 
"I beg your pardon, but I am look- 
ing for three charming women." 

The swinging stopped, great 
black-velvet eyes looked with con- 
vincing dignity into his, and a girl- 
ish voice all creamy hauteur re- 
plied, "I'm one." 

"By the powers ! you will be, 
sometime," sprang to Robert's 
tongue, but it was checked by the 
childlike simplicity with which this 
witching little gypsy awaited his 

"To be sure," he asserted, as 
gravely as if replying to a truism. 
"But the other two? Are they as 

She looked at him in scorn for 
such ignorance, and her manner 
lapsed from the queenly to the con- 
versational. "When you have seen 
my mother and sister, you will 
know that I get invited with my 
family just because the assortment 
can't be broken. That's my sister 
out at the desk. She's the new 
librarian. Do you really want us 
to come to dinner with you on 
Thanksgiving Day?" 

There was a vista through to the 
delivery desk where the Madonna 
of the books was surrounded by 
many youthful worshippers. Robert 
looked from that lovely face to the 
expressive one beside him, over 
which flashed in succession, an 
eagerness for fun, a longing for 
friends, and the stern determination 
to remember she was a Kittredge. 

"My grandfather and I would be 
most happy to be cheered by you 
on Thursday. Indeed, our house- 
keeper, when she gave me this 
three-volume list, said it contained 
everything we needed for the holi- 
day, unless I could 'scare up some 

good company.' That was her 
phrase, but I do not want to scare 
this possible little guest; I want 
you to tell me frankly all about it." 

A child recognizes sincerity and 
chivalry even in a tone modulated 
to suit the library quiet. Tears 
sprang to Jessie's eyes ; she had 
been lonesome through the past 
secret-burdened day ; then she 
beamed and whispered, 

"Play you are a customer, for 
I'm here to wait on them," (hand- 
ing him an atlas upside-down.) 
"There, now we can talk and yet 
seem to be improving our minds, 
which is what they do in reference 
rooms. Why, you see we came to 
town only three days ago, as Mar- 
lie, that's my sister Marcia, had to, 
and my little mumsie looked so 
sad when we spoke of being away 
from all her folks on Thanksgiving 
Day — it is her wedding annivers- 
ary too, — that I got desperate and 
advertised for friends, because I 
knew I could guarantee satisfaction 
so far as my mother and sister 
went. Well," smiling happily, "now 
you've answered my want, and 
that's funny and nice, and it will 
all amuse my family seeing that my 
ad didn't bring me to mortification, 
and that's all, and we are much 
obliged, but of course we Kit- 
tredges couldn't be bold really, and 
so, good night, Mr. Opportunity;" 
and she made a quaint little ges- 
ture, as if dismissing him and a 
childish prank. 

"Not so fast, please. You mean 
that your mother would not listen 
to me if I went with you and in- 
vited your family to dinner?" 

The young girl looked at him as 
if the question were superfluous. 

Both Dondered in silence. 



"You would like to conic? You 
could drive my pony after dinner." 

Shining eyes answered him. 

"Your sister hasn't got to be here 
on a holiday ;" 

"She thought she would have 
the library open all day for for- 
lorn strangers — a fellow feeling' 
makes one kind. That's a quota- 
tion; do you want me to look it up 
for you? Only one trustee has 
shown up and he said there was no 
rule about holiday openings. I sup- 

se some of the trustees have 
homes and families?" rather wist- 

The young man smote his knee. 
'"Good idea! Yes. the bigger his 
house the easier it is for a man to 
be a trustee." He took the child's 
hands with gentle authority. "Will 
you have a secret with me for 
twenty-four hours? Say nothing 
at home of all this; to-morrow at 
this time 1 will call on your mother, 
and when you and your sister come 
fn>m the library perhaps you will 
have reason to think you 'Saved a 
great cause that heroic day.' " 

His knowing the last line of "Op- 
portnnity" won Jessie as nothing 
else could have done, for the lovers 
of Sill's poems are ,one. Her eyes 
flashed good fellowship and Robert 
hurried off, scattering largess to the 
boys who had been holding his im- 
patient horse. Dolly's dash home- 
ward was interrupted while her 
master stopped at his office long 
enough to ring up Central and de- 
mand the Mayor's office. 

"Hello, thai your Honor? This 
is Elson. Oh, 1 say, yon know 
you've wanted me to go in for pub- 
lic office? Well, I'm ready to be- 
gin by being a library trustee; they 
eleel those next week, don't they? 

No, it's no joke. What's that? 
Perhaps I want to be made presi- 
dent of the trustees? Yes, that 
might be a capital scheme. Will 
the boys put this job through all 
right, sure? W r hat? I could buy 
up the whole town? Well, I don't 
want to ; mind you get that point 
straight, but this little non-salaried 
office, just to show my public spirit, 
I'll take — for a consideration!" He 
chuckled, rang off, and the Mayor 
fumed in vain to know what Elson 
was up to. 

It was when he pushed the best 
cigars over to his Grandfather that 
evening that Robert seemed seized 
with a sudden inspiration. 

"I guess we better do a little mis- 
sionary work on Thanksgiving 
Day, the boomerang kind that 
turns around and blesses him that 
gives. You see, I've been per- 
suaded, by circumstances, to be- 
come a trustee of the Public Li- 
brary, and as the new librarian's 
family has just moved to town, I 
thought it might be courteous to 
ask them up for turkey — especially 
as you gave the library building; 
eh, sir?" 

"You've got good precedent for 
seeing to the stranger within your 
gates, Robbie. It will suit me, if 
the librarian isn't Mr. Dry-as-dust.' r 

"On the contrary, Grandad, I 
assure you," Robert grinned and 
said no more. 

Dusk the next day brought a call- 
er for Mrs. Kittredge and her 
daughters found their precious 
mother laughing as she had not 
since coming to this north countree. 
With quite her air of happier days 
she introduced Mr. Elson, president 
of the board of library trustees. 

He shook hands smilingly. "That 

A T H A N K S ( i I V I X ( ; ( ) I ' I » ( ) R T I ' X J T Y 


is dealing in futures a little ; the 
final election does not come till 
next week, but as I may be away 
then I took time by the forelock 
enough to make my official call this 
afternoon. And may I suggest, 
Miss Kittredge, that we could talk 
over library matters at leisure if 
you and your mother and sister 
would honor my grandfather and 
me with your company to dinner on 
Thanksgiving Day? There are 
some minor matters which might 
be improved at our little local in- 
stitution, perhaps some new books 
bought; for instance, I dropped in- 
to the reference room the other day 
and got very little geographic help 
from an old atlas there." 

He did not look at Jessie as he 
talked decorously to her elders, and 
her delighted giggle was now 
thought by her relatives to be only 
a sign of the child's ecstatic relief 
at the prospect of having a real 
home turkey, the kind which al- 
ways seems to have three legs and 
two wishbones. 

"Mrs. Kittredge," the young man 
continued, "my grandfather will 
forget his exile here if you will 
come brighten our bachelor's hall. 
I will send for you at one o'clock, 
then to-morrow? Thank you and 
good-day;" and he was off before 
Mrs. Kittredge could take a stand 
against his pleading lips and her 
daughters' pleading eyes. 

It was the first sleighing of the 
year on Thursday, and the merry 
bells and winey air made Jessie's 
spirits quite ungovernable as they 
drove to the grand house. 

Ushered by a maid into an im- 
mense hall and up into a huge 
chamber there to lay off their 
wraps, Jessie's mischievous eyes 

darted here upon a box of car- 
tridges in the corner, next upon a 
revolver on the dressing-table. 

' 'Bachelor's hall,' I should say," 
she cried, catching up the weapon 
and pirouetting about. "We don't 
have these among the silver-mount- 
ed things on our bureaus, do we, 

"Drop it, Jessie, drop it this 
minute," screamed Mrs. Kittredge, 
and for once in her young life Jessie 
obeyed, with consequences which 
counselled her never to obey again. 

She had dropped the revolver in 
on the cartridges, rightly thinking 
that such stuff ought all to go to- 
gether, but alack and alas ! the edge 
of the box hit the trigger, there 
was a report, some smoke, and 
through it Jessie was seen not 
gaily pirouetting now, but balanc- 
ing on one foot, holding the other 
and crying with pain. 

The report brought the house- 
keeper and Mr. Robert to the door. 
They understood it all in a few 
words, and the two of them seemed 
equal to a much worse occasion. 

"Miss Kittredge," Robert com- 
manded, "will you go down and 
make yourself known to my grand- 
father who is just driving up and 
beguile him in some way? On 
your way, please find the kitchen 
and tell the cook not to let dinner 
spoil for half an hour. Thank you. 
Mrs. Kittredge, isn't that the bul- 
let over there on the floor where it 
rebounded from hitting the radia- 
tor? Now, see here, Jessie, that 
ball only grazed your foot, just tore 
the leather and flesh a little. Good 
work you didn't have on low shoes. 
Here, Mrs. Winn, put the child on 
to my brother's bed there, cut off 
her boot, dress the wound as you 



have my hands when Eve come in 
from gunning sometimes, and I'll 
get one of my soft slippers and then 
we'll all take tea !" And he turned 
a reassuring" and hot face to the dis- 
tressed mother. 

'"Jessie shouldn't have — all this 
trouble — " she murmured. 

"Don't mention that. My brother 
had no business to go abroad and 
leave fire-arms loaded in his room. 
Now Ell go down and relieve Miss 
Kittredge, and by the time the cook 
has dinner served, Jessie can hop 
down stairs leaning on your arm." 
Then, in a stage-whisper, "So long, 
fellow-conspirator; our dinner-party 
will be a success after all;" and he 
left Jessie smiling through her tears. 

At the parlor door he paused, 
seeing his fondest hopes fulfilled. 
The Honorable Asa Elson was ra- 
diating satisfaction, having secured 
a small but appreciative audience 
in the pleasing person of Marcia 
Kittredge, who, instead of con- 
fronting him with theories of her 
own, was listening with winning 
deference while the old gentleman 
mounted his hobby of Americana. 

"Sorry to hasten you, grand- 
father," he finally interrupted, "but 
the hour is already a little past, 
and if you don't mind we will go 
to the dining-room and meet Mrs. 
Kittredge and Miss Jessie as they 
come down stairs. The little girl 
has a trifling lameness just at pres- 

My, what a dinner that was! 
Everyone keyed up by excitement 
or gratitude, to his or her best! 
Jessie's spirits returned so be- 
witchingly that the elder gentle- 
man, chiding the younger one who 
was a trifle absorbed in their young 
lady guest, said, "Robbie, you have 

not given this charming child any 
of the stuffing." 

He remedied the omission, then 
lifted his glass and looked roguish- 
ly at her. "I drink to one of three 
charming women," he said. And it 
seemed surprising that Jessie's 
white cheeks grew red as peonies 
while Marcias became only blush 

They all drew cozily around the 
open fire in the great library for 
their after-dinner coffee. After the 
Honorable Asa found that he had 
been to school with Mrs. Kit- 
tredge's father, his reminiscences 
rivalled those of "Plupy" and 
"Beany." But louder than the 
crackle of their fire howled the ris- 
ing wind outside, and Robert seri- 
ously dreaded to have the tender 
foot go out in the cold. 

"Mrs. Kittredge, it will be safer 
for Jessie to remain a few days 
where Mrs. Winn has all the right 
lotions for dressing a bruise. You 
see, old Nursey has been in our fam- 
ily ever since my brother and I 
were boys, and she's like court-plas- 
ter — heals all wounds but those of 
love. Please, Mrs. Kittredge, stay 
here with Jessie. Grandad," he 
hastened on before she could speak, 
"I know you will second my motion 
to turn this dinner into a week-end 
house party." 

"If Mrs. Kittredge will remain 
at this house while I am forced to 
it will save Rob and me from hav- 
ing wheels in our heads, for, dear 
madam, the boy and I talk machin- 
ery all day at the mill and come 
home and talk it all the evening. 
And I trust the young lady will 
stay so that we may enjoy further 
converse over old book-sale cata- 



Marcia smiled at him adorably 
but shook her lovely head and 
looked to Robert as if already she 
saw that that way salvation lay. 

"Miss Kittredge being a city offi- 
cer, will have to be at her post 
down in the town early to-morrow 
and I as a stern trustee will see that 
she gets there by driving her my- 
self to-night back to her boarding- 
house. A fur coat over all your 
frills, Miss Librarian, will make an 
evening sleigh-ride safe. We'll 
start as soon as that full moon out 
there seems to rest on the mill 
chimney. I'll report to you every 
day how Jessie is getting on, and 
whisk you up here whenever you 
can be spared." 

Dear sakes ! how Mrs. Winn ex- 
ulted in having Jessie to pet. She 
made mother and child luxuriously 
comfortable for the night, remark- 
ing as she left their chamber, "Jane 
and me was sayin', ma'am, as 'ow 
we was that mortal tired of being 
the honly ladies 'ere, ma'am." 

Localities in that region were 
not familiar to Marcia Kittredge 
but she suspected, and afterward 
learned that there had been good 
and sufficient reasons for her sus- 

picions, that Robert Elson did not 
drive her the shortest way home, 
that night. 

As they turned into the drive- 
way to the boarding-house Marcia 
sighed happily. "So many mer- 
cies — Jessie not seriously hurt and 
mother saved from a sad day." 

"Haven't you anything to be 
thankful for yourself?" he demand- 
ed almost roughly. "Why, we have 
only one minute left together, and 
if I take it to say that the Lord 
never sent me a greater blessing 
than meeting you, how will you 
have time to tell me you're glad to 
know me? Smile, then; there's al- 
ways time for that." 

But her heart was in a panic and 
she slipped out of the moon's bright 
ray into the dim hall of the house, 

"There were some business mat- 
ters you wanted to discuss, dear 
Mr. President of my trustees?" 

"I'll drop in at the library for 
them," he promised her. 

But, truth to tell, they never did 
get around to having a business 
talk unless the "Wilt thou?" and "I 
will" to which they eventually 
came, could be termed such. 

The Story of the Ring 

Bv Pauline Carrington Bouve 

THE little gold circle which is 
worn upon the hand of almost 
every woman and man to typ- 
ify the marriage bond or bear some 
other personal significance links the 
present with the very remote past. 

It is closely associated with the 
elemental forces that sway man's 
complex nature — ambition, love, re- 
ligion, loyalty, friendship. It has 
been the symbol of faith, the pledge 
of loyalty, the token of love, the 
emblem of power, the messenger of 
fate, since those dim days when 
Indian gem cutters engraved cabal- 
istic characters on the jewels of 
Eastern rulers ; and since Israelite 
artists engraved the mete shoulder 
clasp stones of the Ephod, on which 
were worn the awful and mysterious 
"Urim and Thumim," that worn by 
the High Priest, glowed with living 
light or were dull in token of Jeho- 
vah's pleasure or displeasure. 

The origin of the ringer ring 
dates back according to the tradi- 
tion of the ancients, to mythology 
and is told in the story of Prome- 
theus bound to Caucasus. For 
when a touch of mercy was awak- 
ened in the heart of the stern Jupi- 
ter and he was ready to forgive 
Prometheus, his vow made the mat- 
ter difficult. After much thought a 
plan was at length devised by which 
his wicked and cruel oath might be 
kept and yet release be given. Jupi- 
ter commanded that Prometheus 
should always wear upon his finger 
an iron ring in which should be 

fastened a tiny bit of Caucasus, so 
that it might be in a certain sense 
true that Prometheus remained 
bound to the mountain. Not only 
does this story hold the first con- 
ception of the finger ring, but also 
the first conception of an insertion 
in the ring, or the set ring, as Mr. 
Edwards, author of "The Poetry 
and History of Finger Rings" ob- 

Pliny, however, declares that 
while Babylonians, Chaldeans, Per- 
sians and Greeks used rings, the 
inventor of them is not known and 
Pliny's statement is very likely on 
this point, though some authorities 
claim that Dschemud who discov- 
ered the solar year introduced an- 
other circle, the use of the ring. 
The invention of what is known as 
the signet ring is attributed to the 
Lacedemonians, who used this pre- 
caution to ensure the safe keeping 
of their coffers. 

After the glorious signets of India, 
the engraved emerald and lapis 
lazuli, came the mysterious rings of 
Egypt, the intaglio and cameo hier- 
oglyphics with decorations of the 
lotus flower, figures of the croco- 
dile, of Isis and Osiris. The cin- 
erary urns of Greece and Rome 
have delivered up to us among their 
relics of emperors, court ladies, mil- 
itary heroes, gladiatorial victors, 
and early Christians, their several 
rings each telling a different story, 
each showing its connection with a 
different class of society. But as it 




was against Roman law to bury gold 
with the dead, the discovery of gold 
rings in Roman cinerary urns is 
evidence to us that they were placed 
there secretly. The only exception 
to this gold law was in the case of 
the deceased having worn false 
teeth, a clause stating that gold used 
in fastening artificial teeth in the 
mouth need not be removed ! 

In civil contracts, the ring was 
once used as an emblem of fidelity. 
Among Hindus, Persians and Egyp- 
tians it had this significance. In the 
Temple of Phtha the priests of 


Egypt represented the year by a 
ring made of a serpent holding its 
tail in its mouth. 

There were favorite styles in rings. 
In very early times there must have 
been a vogue for wearing rings en- 
graved with the figures of the gods, 
for Pythagoras forbade the wearing 
of rings so engraved lest the wearers 
seeing the figures so constantly be- 
fore them, should gradually lose 
their veneration for Olympian ideals. 
Montfaucon is the authority for this 
statement which throws a sharp 
light on the Greek philosopher's 
knowledge of human weakness. 

Among the most interesting rings 
of antiquity are those known as 
early Christian rings which bear 
the four devices used by the fol- 
lowers of Christ, the dove, the 


palm, the anchor and the fish. That 
of the fish is most interesting. This 
singular emblem is supposed to have 
been adopted because of the fact 
that according to the calculations of 
the Jewish prophets, the advent of 
the expected Messiah was to occur 
at the conjunction of the planets 
Jupiter and Saturn in Pisces, the 
sign of the fish. At all events the 
fish was one of the emblems en- 
graved on many early Christian 
rings that are still extant and it was 
this figure that was afterwards 
drawn in the sand, (during the cruel 
days of Greek and Roman persecu- 
tion), by some fugitive followers of 
the despised Nazarene as a mes- 
sage to a brother of the faith who 
might know thereby the route he 
had taken. 

The iron papal ring is also of in- 
terest, a new one being made for 




each succeeding- Pope. This is en- 
graved with the ancient papal seal 
— a hshcnnan casting his net into 
the sea — suggestive of those apos- 
tolic fishermen to whom Christ 
said. "Henceforth I will make you 
fishers of men." This ring is known 
as the '•fisherman's ring" and links 
this accessory of costume with re- 
ligion and with history. No thought- 
ful person can look upon the signet 
of the Pope without being impressed 
with the long ancestry of the little 
gold circle that is universally worn 
throughout the world. 

In a museum in Dresden there is 
another ring closely associated with 
one of the most important epochs 
of Christianity. This is the wed- 
ding ring of Martin Luther. It is 
engraved with the initials "M. L." 
and "C. B.," and the words "What 
God hath joined, let no man sunder." 
It is in its connection with marriage 
that the ring- holds its peculiar inter- 
est for men and women, for one of 
the fundamental truths of social life 
is enfolded in its significance. 

In Egypt, long before rings be- 
came the insignia of power or a part 
of personal adornment, they were 
used merely as payment for articles 
purchased, and it is probable that 
the fashion of being wedded with a 
ring was really the earliest method 
known in history of promising to 
the wife the support of her husband 

from the marriage day. Some au- 
thorities mention the ring as the 
ancient symbol of the woman's slav- 
ish submission to the husband, but 
it shows also that from the earliest 
period of history, the man assumed 
the obligation of his wife's main- 
tenance and protection, retaining 
through succeeding ages a similar 
significance as the words in our 
book of Common Prayer testify — 
"With this ring I thee wed, and 
with all my worldly goods I thee 

With the ring, lovers pledge their 
troth and with it the marriage con- 
tract is concluded; with it, too, 
kings are united to their kingdoms 
and bishops to their churches; and 
when each ascension day the Doge 
of Venice was married to the Adri- 
atic with the words : "We espouse 
thee, O sea ! as a token of our eter- 
nal dominion over thee," a gold ring 
was cast into the clear waters. The 
origin of this singular ceremony is 
given by Hodder Westropp, the an- 
tiquarian, who tells us that when 
Frederick I of Germany descended 
upon Italy, eager to destroy the 
Guelphs and vowing vengeance 
against Pope Alexander III, that 
Pontiff* fled to Venice under an as- 
sumed name. The ruling Doge, 
Ziani recognized the Pope, how- 
ever, and received him with all the 
honors due to the head of the 




church. Frederick demanded that 
Venice give up the fugitive Pontiff. 
Venice refused. A naval battle en- 
sued in which the Venetians were 
victors and Oth, Frederick's son, 
was taken prisoner. When the 
Doge Ziani returned in triumph to 
Venice, Alexander embraced him 
and before a great concourse of peo- 
ple placed a gold ring upon his fin- 
ger with these words : "Venetians 
make use of this ring as a chain to 
keep the sea subject to your empire. 
Marry her every year with this 
ring, that every year this same cere- 
mony be renewed, so that posterity 
may know that the Venetian arms 
have acquired the sovereignty of 
the sea, and that the sea ought to 
be subject to it as a wife to her hus- 
band." Ascension Day being the 
anniversary of the Venetian victory, 
this strange and most magnificent 
ceremony was solemnized on this 
festival for centuries. The asser- 
tion of "perpetual dominion" has 
been proved an idle boast, however, 
for the power of Venice has long 
since departed. 

Signet rings, papal rings, wed- 
ding rings, "Fide" rings, "guard," 
"mourning," "poison" and "death" 


rings all find their places in the 
archives of history and the pages of 
romance ; some of the stories con- 
nected with these jewelled relics 
are stories of faithless love, betrayed 
loyalty, wounded pride, cruelty, de- 
spair, death, striking the whole 
gamut of human emotion. 

The ring form was regarded with 
Deculair veneration by the early 
English and in the British Museum 
there are many of these historic fin- 
ger rings, around which political, 
religious, literary and romantic asso- 
tions cluster. The smith of old 
made helmets as well as armour of 
rings, and golden rings or bracelets 
were bestowed by the yarl or king 
on the warrior who had distin- 
guished himself by any feat of arms. 
The size of the ring as well as the 
material has varied so that the king 
or beag-gyfa (giver of rings) was 
able to weigh his appreciation of 
the warlike service by the value of 
the ring presented. "These rings 
were of gold and silver and bronze," 
says Mr. Frederick Hodgetts, "and 
were the currency in which the old 
Scandinavian merchants paid the 
inhabitants of Britain for the tin 
and other matters which thev 


X E W E X G L A X D M A G A Z I N E 



fetched from the Kelts and Kymri, 
whose annular money is noticed by 
Caesar, but which was doubtless of 
Scandinavian origin." The smith 
then of the early English times was 
a person of very great importance, 
producing massive adornments and 
delicate filigree metal brooches 
with equal skill. Indeed the filigree 
work of the Anglo-Saxon gold- 
smith was of unequalled beauty and 
sought by Teutons, Franks and 
Italians. "His w r as the only art, 
except that of song," says Hod- 
getts, "which claimed a deity among 
its masters, for while the other 
workers w r ere regarded with a 
species of contempt, Volund or 
Voelund and Bragi were denizens 
of Valhalla, nor was it below the 
dignity of the Champion of Odin 
to emulate Volund in repairing his 
own armour at a pinch, or to copy 
Bragi in a strain which has made 
the name of that deity familiar to 
us in the derived verb 'to brag' even 
in the Victorian age." 

The favorite form for signet rings 
in Egypt was the sacred beetle or 
scarabaeus, which was perforated 
in \\< length and was set in such a 
way as to revolve in the ring. The 
oldest of these were made with solid 
or revolving bezels, frequently of a 
rectangular shape, and having the 
name of the monarch inscribed upon 
them. Sometimes these were made 
of solid gold, sometimes of glass or 

cylindrical bezels of hard stone. 
The Egyptians had also rings of 
silver, bronze, cornelian or jasper 
made of a solid piece of metal with 
an oval engraved in intaglio with 
the name of some deity, king or 
person. There were besides these 
many colored porcelain finger-rings, 
some of which bear the names of 
kings of the eighteenth and nine- 
teenth dynasties, but as they were 
too frail for common use, it is sup- 
posed they were employed only for 
funereal purposes. The shell, knot 
and serpent were devices often used 
by the Egyptian goldsmiths from 
the precious metals, but ivory and 
blue porcelain were employed in 
fashioning these finger circlets for 
the lower classes. The oldest Egyp- 
tian signet ring known is the rect- 
angular bezel of a ring in the British 
Museum which bears the titles and 
name of Amunoph II, dating the 
fifteenth century B. C. Another 
signet of historical importance is of 
bronze and bears the title of Amu- 
noph III, "Sun Lord of Truth." 

From the Egyptian, the Etrus- 
cans borrowed, it is supposed, the 
scarabaeus form for their signet 
rings which was so set that it re- 
volved round its centre, showing 
first one and then the other side of 
the beetle, which was symbolical to 
the people of the Nile of the mys- 
teries of creation. The earliest 
Etruscan scarabaei bear designs of 






fantastic creatures, winged lions, 
gryphons and other fabulous ani- 
mals. It was only after a long in- 
tercourse with the Greeks that they 
began to cut upon their signets the 
scenes and characters of Grecian 
mythology and poetry. The British 
Museum contains a serpent Etrus- 
can ring formed of two lions whose 
bodies make up the shank, the heads 
and fore paws supporting a filigree 
bezel, which holds the signet stone 
— a small scarabaeus charged with a 
lion regardant. In the Louvre there 
is an Etruscan ring, the bezel, of 
which bears an engraving of Ad- 
metus, king of Phrene; in a chariot 
drawn by a lion and a boar. 

In the early days of Greece, rings 
were not worn. Amongst Homer's 
detailed descriptions of personal or- 
naments and jewels, there is no men- 
tion of the ring. Pliny notices this 
omission and it is probable, there- 
fore, the fashion of wearing rings 
was introduced from Asia. Lessing 
says that the fashion did not exist 
before the period of the Peloponne- 
sian war, that is to say 431-401 B. C., 
and presumably Lessing derived 
the knowledge from satisfactory 
data. This would lend to the con- 
clusion that the Greeks wore their 
signet stones hung by a cord from 
their necks or wrists. The Greeks 
of the higher classes wore gold 
rings, while those of the lower strata 
of society wore ring's of base metal. 

In the age of Alexander the art 
of gem engraving had attained a 
high place, and there was a taste for 
wearing signet rings bearing gems 
with subjects engraved upon them. 
The famous artist Pyrgoteles was 
allowed by Alexander to engrave his 
head upon a signet ring. When this 
great king conquered Darius, he 
sealed his first acts with the latter's 
ring, using it only for sealing edicts 
to the Persians, while he still re- 
tained his paternal ring for those 
issued to the Greeks. The device 
upon the "paternal" signet was a 
lion passant with a club in the field, 
conveying an allusion to Hercules, 
the founder of the Macedonian line. 
In this use of the Darius seal for 
Persian edicts and his own paternal 
signet for mandates to the Greeks, 
there is a certain subtilty that ranks 
Alexander as chief of diplomatists 
as well as greatest of conquerors. 

From the Etruscans the Romans 
derived the fashion of wearing sig- 
net rings. Ordinary finger rings, 
however, were worn in very early 
times, for Pliny — that historian who 
thought no detail too trivial to be 
chronicled and was therefore the 
best of chroniclers — notes that the 
immediate successors of Romulus, 
Numa, and Servius Tullius wore 
gems upon their fingers, if their 
statues were faithful portraitures. 
He goes on to state that the earli- 
est date of the general use of rings 

3 26 



was in the time of Cains Flavins 
and says further that they must 
have come into favor very rapidly 
for the}- were so abundant during 
the time of the second Punic war 
that Hannibal sent three measures 
full from Italy to Carthage. While 
Rome retained its republican sim- 
plicity, freemen were allowed to 
wear an iron signet ring as a badge 
of martial courage. Senators alone 
could display gold rings, a privi- 
lege not bestowed upon knights be- 
fore the reign of Tiberius who made 
a new regulation, passed an enact- 
ment that no Roman could wear 
a gold ring unless himself, his 
father and grandfather, were free 
born and unless his property was 
assessed at four hundred sestertia 
(£14,000) and he himself possessed 
the right to sit in the fourteen rows 
in the theatre which were allotted 
to the equestrian order by the Jul- 
ian law. No freedman could wear a 
solid gold ring except by an express 
decree of the Senate. As luxury in- 
creased, a taste for personal adorn- 
ment became more general and 
finally each individual adopted a 
separate and individual subject, to 
be engraved on his signet ring. 
Pompey chose three trophies; Julius 
Caesar chose Venus Victrix as his 
tutelar deity; Augustus used first 
the head of Alexander and then, 


fame and vanity progressing simul- 
taneously, his own head; Commodus 
had an Amazon cut upon his seal; 
Nero selected the rape of Proser- 
pine for his, while the Emperor 
Galba chose a dog for his seal, inti- 
mating, perhaps, that the loyalty of 
a dog was much more to be relied 
upon than the loyalty of a man. 

Sometimes, but very rarely, rings 
were adorned with two gems. Such 
came under the head of Annulus 
bigemmeus. The annulus -pt onobus 
or engagement ring, which was sent 
as a gift to a betrothed woman, was 
always of iron. The maids and 
dames of early Rome were guiltless 
of that feminine vanity which the 
modern woman feels when she dis- 
plays to the envious gaze of her 
dozen dearest friends "the perfect 
love of a solitaire that has just 
arrived from Tiffany's !" 

Rings of silver, iron, ivory, bone 
amber, jet, glass and procelain, as 
well as of gold, have been worn by 
different classes of society from very 
early times and it may be con- 
cluded that the fondness for this 
sort of digital decoration is inherent 
in the nature of man. As badges of 
office and as visible tokens of the 
wearer's quality and rank, they have 
sunk into mere articles of personal 



adornment with one exception. This 
one exception is of peculiar interest 
to the feminine mind, for it is the 
wedding ring — about which so many 
superstitions and traditions still lin- 
ger. Among the Greek, the be- 
trothal ring which was given when 
the dowry was settled, was indis- 
pensable as it was the only visible 
thing that gave the woman a claim 
upon the man. The value of this 
token may be realized when one re- 
members that the wife has other 
proof of her marriage while the be- 
trothed maiden had only her be- 
trothal ring as evidence of a con- 
tract of marriage — a very different 
thing from the engagement ring of 
modern times which is nothing 
more. than the gift of a lover. The 
three ornaments of a bride were : 
"the ring on her finger which be- 
tokened true love, a brooch on her 
breast which betokened cleanness 
of heart and chastity, a garland on 
her head which was a crown of vic- 
tory, gladness and dignity." Of 
these then, the ring only held mystic 
association and was a legal evidence 
of marriage. 

One of the most interesting rings 
of antiquity is the key ring. In 
Roman times bronze rings were 
worn with a key attached to them 
at right angles to the hoop. These 
were supposed to be used by Roman 
ladies, who were accustomed to 
carry the key of their caskets in this 
way, but recent research leads us to 
believe that these key rings were 
presented to brides, as an investiture 
of complete supremacy in all domes- 
tic affairs. 

But the ring has been very closely 
allied with religious ideals, as the 
nun's rings with the inscription "Je 
suis espouse de Jhesu Crist" in old 


fourteenth century golden circlets, 
attest. The "decade rings" also 
connected with religious observ- 
ances, the ten knobs around the 
hoop, being used instead of beads 
for repeating Aves, the bezel show- 
ing when a Pater Noster must be 
said. These were to facilitate pray- 
ing in the dark, it may be inferred, 
the little knobs being easy to find 
by touch. 

It is a pity that such ornaments 
might not have always been devoted 
entirely to romantic, religious or 
ceremonial uses but the famous 
"poison rings" still seen in rare col- 
lections show us that gemmed trrles 
were sometimes put to fearful uses. 
One of these "death's rings," as they 
were fittingly called in Italy, was 
often engraved and set with rubies 
and diamonds. The circlet securing 
the middle stone was made to open 
with a spring, showing a receptacle 
in which some fatal poison, con- 
cocted by Italian chemists of the 
sixteenth century, was kept as a 
convenient method of making away 
with a troublesome friend or a dan- 
gerous foe ! A warm grasp of the 
hand was enough to accomplish the 
gruesome end and the Borgias were, 
perhaps, the greatest adepts in this 
line that the world ever was unfor- 
tunate enough to harbor. 



But poison rings are not pleasant 
to think upon. Let us revert to the 
betrothal rings of Israelite maidens, 
which always carried miniature tem- 
ples in their summit and within the 
circlet the insertion in Hebrew char- 
acters, "Mazal-tour" which means 
"Joy be with you." 

One of the most curious examples 
of the wedding ring is one that was 
in the possession of the Duke de 
Reni in the year 1416. This was the 
very ring, tradition claimed, with 
which Joseph espoused the Virgin 
Mary. Among mythical rings was 
that of Gyges. The Lydian Plato 
tells a very pretty story of how 
Gyges entered the chasm which was 
a sepulchre of some ancient giant 
an el taking from the finger of the 
great skeleton a ring, returned to 
his brother shepherds. Happening 
to turn the face of the ring inside of 
his hand he became invisible and 
wickedly making use of this singu- 
lar and mystic power, he murdered 
the king and took possession of the 
beautiful and wealthy queen, for 
h crime one of his innocent 
ndants was punished. 

Another mythical ring is that of 

King Solomon, who, according 

to Hebrew fairy lore, put it to the 

cruel use of sealing up refractory 
Jews in bottles which were cast into 
the Red Sea. Then comes beautiful 
Helen of Troy's love-inspiring ring 
engraved with the fish, called Pau 
upon it ; and from the border land 
of fable, emerges into authentic 
record, the very curious but possibly 
true tale of Polycrates, the tyrant, 
of Samos. Polycrates, frightened 
at his long stretch of prosperity, 
took counsel of the Egyptian sage, 
Amasis, who told him to propitiate 
Nemesis by sacrificing his most pre- 
cious possession. Polycrates there- 
upon promptly cast his signet ring 
into the sea and a fish swallowed it. 
A fish was caught the same day and 
brought to the prince. The signet 
ring was found in its belly; Amasis 
immediately knew that the sacrifice 
had not been accepted and that the 
king of Samos was doomed. Poly- 
crates was afterwards betrayed into 
the hands of the Satrap Oroeter 
who had him impaled. 

More sure are we of later histork 
rings; the first one of which deserv- 
ing mention is that of Childeric, the 
founder of the Merovingian line, 
and father of Clovis, who died in 
482. This relic was discovered in 
his tomb which was accidentally 
opened at Tournay in 1654, but was 
most unfortunately stolen from the 
Bibliotheque in Paris in 1831. Th<* 
next in interest, and perhaps of more 
interest to those of Anglo-Saxon an- 
cestry is the ring of Ethelwulf, the 
father of Alfred the Great, who was 
king of Wessex from A. D. 836-858, 
and which bears the name "Ethel- 
wulf." Two queer looking birds 
face each other on the front which 
rises in pyramid form. This relic 
was found in the parish of Laver- 
slock, Hants, and is now in the Brit- 






Conrtesy of Tiffany & Co. 

ish Museum. The ring of Ethel- 
saith, sister of the great Alfred and 
wife of Burgud, king of Mercia, is 
one of the finest specimens of Saxon 
goldsmith's art yet discovered, apart 
from its historical association. The 
wedding ring of Catrina de Roselli, 
wife of the famous tribune, Nicola 
Reinzi, is the work, no doubt, of a 
Florentine artist and its date may 
be assigned to 1320-1340. In the 
British Museum there is a gold sig- 
net ring, having the royal arms and 
supporters of Scotland, with the 
motto "In Defius" and the initials 
"M. R." This belonged to the un- 
happy Mary of Scotland. In the 
inner side of this ring are the letters 
"M." and "A.," which sorely puz- 
zled Elizabeth and Lord Burleigh, 
until they dicovered its meaning in 
Darnly as Duke of Albany. 

When one looks upon the Essex 
ring pitying thoughts fill the mind 
for that cold, hard, wise queen whose 
last years were lived in remorse be- 
cause of the death of the Earl of 
Essex. Essex had the queen's ring 
and sent it to her from the Tower 
where he was imprisoned, hoping 

for her forgiveness. But the Coun- 
tess of Nottingham to whom he 
handed the ring, concealed it by her 
husband's, the Lord High Admiral's, 
command, and the jealous Elizabeth 
sent her handsome suitor, to whom 
she was passionately attached, to 
the scaffold. On her death bed the 
Countess confessed her guilt to her 
sovereign, but Elizabeth turned 
away, so tradition records, exclaim- 
ing, "God may forgive you but I 
never can." 

But of all these relics of famous 
men and women, there is one that 
cannot fail to appeal to English 
speaking people — the ring of Wil- 
liam Shakespeare, found in the mill 
adjoining Stratford-on-Avon church- 
yard by a laborer's wife on the 16th 
of March, 1810. It has the letters 
"W. S." linked by a tasselled cord, 
the only other ornament- being a 
band of pellets and lines on the 
outer edge of the bezel. There was 
but one other person in the little 
town of Stratford at that period who 
bore the same initials — ■ one Wil- 
liam Smith, but his seal, which is 
attached to a number of documents, 


Courtesy of Tiffany & Co. 

is different. Just before his death 
the poet lost a ring which could not 
be found, so that when his will was 
executed, the word hand was sub- 
stituted for "seal" in the original 
document, Hallowell Phillipps tells 
us, and so there remains but little 
doubt that the ring in the Stratford 
Museum shone upon the hand 
which penned the immortal dramas. 
There are several mourning rings, 
bearing portraits of Charles Stuart, 
the most striking one, that given to 
Bishop fuxon who attended him on 
the scaffold. It boars a death's head 
in white enamel on a black ground 

encircled by the words "Behold The 
Ende." The motto "Rather Death 
Then Fals Faith" runs around the 

There are many curious supersti- 
tions about this most commonly 
used bit of jewelry and sometimes 
the mottos inscribed thereon are 
funny rather than romantic. Doc- 
tor John Shemies who was Bishop 
of Lincoln in 1753, for example, was 
four times married and had this 
novel poesy cut into the wedding- 
ring of the fourth lady — "If I sur- 
vive, I'll make them five," which 
was scarcely cheerful in its sugges- 



tiveness of what might happen, commemorated, recorded, hallowed 

The fashions of rings have some- for the human race; and above all 

what changed during the long ages rings, let us look with reverence 

of their use but . let us thank God upon the wedding ring, for upon 

for those still old-fashioned customs the esteem in which we hold it rest 

of friendship, loyalty, love and mar- the higher elements of our social 

riage, which these gold circles have fabric. 

The Idol 

By Elizabeth R. Finley 

At Dawn, the sun shone on my Idol : "It is gold 

I cried, "pure gold, aflame with jewels manifold 

Bright and complete, transcendent, without flaw !' 

1 fell before it, worshipping in awe 

And gazing on it as I knelt in dust, 

I offered up youth, honor, faith and trust. 

Noon's fiercer ray upon my Idol smote 
And on its forehead I perceived a mote, 
A tiny fleck that marred the perfect whole. 
And as I gazed with anguish in my soul 
Stains, spots appeared and even, here and there. 
The gold was missing from its surface fair. 

With reverent hand I sought first to erase 
The blemishes which marred my Idol's face- 
In vain ! Then in the horror of surprise 

I cursed it saying: "Thou art made of lies, 
Thou sham, whom I have worshipped as a God !' 
And weeping hid my eyes and bit the sod. 

At Sunset, gently a last lingering glow 
Fell on my Idol and on me below 
As I reached up to kiss that Idol's feet; 
For life had taught that nothing is complete 
And in the mellower light of waning day 
I loved my Idol, knowing it was clay. 

Concerning Home and School 

B\ Sarah Louise Arnold 

Miss Arnold, Dean of Simmons College, for many years a Supervisor of 
n Schools and widely known as an author and lecturer on educational topics, 

will contribute each month matter of interest concerning affairs in the educa- 
u 'id and the problems -which beset preceptor, parent and pupil. This will be 

supplemented from time to time by articles on special topics by educators of promi- 

THE most casual observer of 
the signs of the times must 
find in our modern school 
much that compels his attention. 
The contrast between the schools 
of yesterday and those of today is 
sharply marked, while our critics 
assert that the original type is pass- 
ing away, if it is not already ex- 

Fond parents who look back upon 
their school-days — set with their 
halos of cherished associations, 
point with pride to their personal 
achievements which they naturally 
accredit to their early training. 
Measured by their success, the for- 
mer type of school seems wholly 
satisfactory, and they marvel that 
the modern institution should have 
to sadly depart from the path of 
tradition. "When I was as old as 
you, I did this or that," says father 
to son, — deploring the son's lack of 
achievements, and forgetting that 
-pect is unfair to prophecy. 

Such judgments are likely to be 
nparle without a clear knowledge of 
present-day conditions. The mod- 
ern school is faithfully attempting 
to solve modern problems in educa- 
tion, [t deals with a new commun- 
ity, having new standards and 

widely differing histories. These 
standards are varied, and the de- 
mands of the communities upon the 
schools must differ widely. The 
schools of a town or village repre- 
sent the ambitions and at the same 
time the limitations of that particu- 
lar community ; yet the trend of the 
common schools is always in the 
same direction ; they are endeavor- 
ing to keep pace with modern civil- 

The district school was relatively 
a simple affair. It was directed by a 
democratic community in which it 
was established. The number of 
weeks in the term was determined 
largely by the demands of the farm 
and the limits of the community's 
purse. The elder boys worked on 
the farm as they were needed there 
and spent the interval in school. 
The girls alternated between the 
lessons of the school and the duties 
of the home. Teachers also changed 
from year to year, the district be- 
ing fortunate which could secure 
the young man from college whose 
terms of study were made possible 
by the alternation between teach- 
ing school and going to school. 

There was much which was 
wholesome in this early condition 




of our schools. The school-family 
was homogeneous ; everybody knew 
everybody else, and school-matters 
were affairs of neighborhood inter- 
est. The younger children had the 
advantage of hearing the recita- 
tions of their elders, whose achieve- 
ment was an inspiration to their 
endeavors. The classes were suited 
as far as possible to the advance- 
ment of the student. Woe to the 
new instructor who turned the old- 
est boy back in arithmetic ! He 
must advance from his last stop- 
ping-place, even if he were the only 
student in his class. 

The friendly relations between 
teacher and pupil — the pleasant 
comradeship of the school — the pos- 
sibility of individual advancement 
— the narrow definitions of the 
school curriculum — all tended to 
make the school-life wholesome and 

We may readily credit the early 
school with all the good results 
which are imputed to it. But we 
must not forget that then, as now, 
the school was but a single factor 
in the education of the community. 
The boy who went from the farm 
to the school — from the ploughing 
or the sowing or the reaping, to the 
reading and the writing and the 
arithmetic, carried to his desk the 
fruits of his labor — maturity, poise 
and proportion. Afield and at 
home he of necessity wrought and 
thought. And though this may not 
have resulted in a larger knowledge 
of books — it did help him to use 
what he learned from books. His 
training was fairly well balanced — 
through the combined contribu- 
tions of the home and the school. 

The school of today deals with a 
complex problem. Young men and 

young women from the farms have 
hastened to live in the crowded 
city. The schools which are pro- 
vided for city children must care 
for large communities in which 
families living side by side may be 
total strangers and in which the 
districts represent very different 
experiences. Classes are large, ad- 
ministration is more formal. The 
needs of the individual are often 
forgotten in the attempt to secure 
the general welfare. And although, 
in the old days, a distinct task 
was assigned to the school, which 
was fairly indicated by a mastery of 
the "three R's," the modern curri- 
culum has enlarged its borders un- 
til it seems to include the entire 
field of useful knowledge. Every- 
thing which it is wise, convenient, 
or expedient to know, the school 
must teach. 

"Children are so busy with 
school duties that they have no 
time for anything else," complains 
the family. The schools may fairly 
retort that they have been obliged 
to assume the burden of instruction 
in fields which the family had form- 
erly cultivated. Today, as soon as 
it is discovered that the child needs 
enlightment in any direction, the 
public clamors to have that subject 
taught him in school ; therefore en- 
largement of the curriculum of the 
schools, for which the schoolmen 
have been loudly criticized, is after 
all due to the withdrawals of the 
family and even the church from 
their former responsibilities, and to 
the popular assumption that the 
school was established to teach 
everything which the child ought 
to know. 

In a certain sense this assump- 
tion is justified. Our communities 



are no longer homogeneous. We 
cannot count upon a certain contri- 
bution from the family; yet the de- 
mand of the community must be 
met. Its young citizens, who will 
so soon assume the control of 
affairs, must be trained in all that 
belongs to citizenship. This calls 
for preparation not only in the 
primitive held of the school — in- 
tellectual education — but in the es- 
tablishment of finer ideals, the de- 
velopment of habit and the assur- 
ance of power to secure an inde- 
pendent livelihood. By just so 
much as other factors in education 
fail, the school must be overbur- 
dened ; and in so far as instruction, 
which belongs to the home or 
church, falls to the lot of the 
school, the original work for which 
the school was designed must either 
be limited or must extend over a 
longer period of time. 

Many of the new developments 
in the modern school are directly 
traceable to the fact that the child- 
ren are not wisely cared for at home 
and therefore need in school the 
care which the home should have 
given. An interesting instance of 
this truth is the already extensive 
movement in favor of medical in- 
spection of schools. We have at 
hand the helpful and suggestive 
pamphlet which has just been is- 
sued by the Massachusetts Civic 
League, pointing out the dangers 
which arise from the too frequent 
neglect of children's eyes. Investi- 
gations in various schools have 
shown that many children have 
failed in their work not because 
they were dull, but because they 
could not see the text which they 
were supposed to be studying. The 
pamphlet refers to the notable work 

of Superintendent Whitcomb of the 
Lowell schools, who describes one 
case after another in a most pa- 
thetic as well as most instructive 
fashion. Again and again he shows 
that children who failed to pass 
from grade to grade, were reported 
as dull, inattentive or stupid and 
came to consider themselves as 
having less ability than their neigh- 
bors simply because they were re- 
quired to perform tasks which the 
conditions of their eyes rendered 
them unable to accomplish. A 
simple test revealed the difficulty 
and the proper remedy having 
been applied, the child made rapid 
headway and soon was classed 
fairly with his mates. 

The writer recalls the experience 
of a boy who seemed hopelessly 
dull, so far as the school require- 
ment was concerned, though he was 
bright, alert and interested in con- 
versation, and frequently distanced 
his fellows in discussion or argu- 
ment. But in reading he halted, 
stumbled and failed, again and 
again, while writing proved a fatal 
obstacle to his advancement. When 
his comrades were "promoted," he 
remained in the same class. A new 
teacher arrived and heard the dis- 
mal history. "Does he try?" she 
asked! "Oh yes," was the reply 
"He is as good as gold, but he is 
thoroughly stupid." "Can he see?" 
persisted the new-comer. "I never 
thought," was the rejoinder. The 
new teacher sent for the mother, 
tested the boy's eyes — and found 
the result so convincing that the 
child was taken to an oculist at 
once. He reported that one eye 
was useless — while it was very 
difficult for even large objects to 
be distinguished without the help 



of glasses. Yet lie had been toiling 
for years — without help — in his en- 
deavor to decipher the tiny crooked 
characters of the printed page. He 
had been called stupid because he 
could not see. Small wonder that 
the hurt had finally yielded to in- 
difference, and a dull acceptance of 
the undeserved epithet. Such piti- 
ful experiences have taught us to 
demand the test of vision, in our 

No one can deny that this care 
belongs primarily to the home and 
not to the school. The fact that it 
is necessary for the teachers to 
make the test points to the fact that 
parents have neglected it. This 
paternal provision of the public 
schools is, therefore, due to a .de- 
fect in the home administration, 
yet it is obvious that in our larger 
communities it is important that 
this paternal control should exist 
and that the school authorities, in 
order to assure even the simplest 
work in the simplest curriculum, 
should know that healthful condi- 
tions are assured for the children. 

It is comforting to those who are 
interested in the children to know 
that inspection of schools has al- 
ready proven not only a safeguard 
against the spread of disease, but 
a positive assistance in securing 
conditions which make for health. 

For years the "visiting physi- 
cian" in the Boston schools, has as- 
sisted in the early removal of cases 
of contagious disease and has ad- 
vised families and teachers concern- 
ing essential questions of personal 
hygiene and household sanitation. 

Brookline has joined the number 
of towns which insist upon the test 
of hearing and vision. In New York 
the visiting nurse promotes per- 

sonal cleanliness, and helps ignor- 
ant mothers to provide healthful 
conditions for their children. An- 
other indication of the popular de- 
mand that the school should offset 
the limitations of the home may be 
found in the existence of the vaca- 
tion schools, which have already 
become so familiar. This effort is 
naturally confined to cities and 
towns, the schools being designed 
primarily to defend the children 
from the untoward influences which 
often surround them when they are 
free from the guardianship of the 

In some of our cities, as in Bos- 
ton, these schools are maintained 
as a part of the public school sys- 
tem, attendance being voluntary; in 
other towns, they are provided 
through private initiative. 

Walk through the hot, dusty 
streets of the city, in the vacation 
season, and observe the children, — 
gathered in alleys — chatting on the 
curbstone, — playing in the midst of 
the crowded thoroughfare, or danc- 
ing about any centre of excitement, 
and you will turn with satisfaction 
to the open school buildings, with 
their clean, cool classrooms, their 
cheery teachers, the wholesome oc- 
cupations which have lured more 
fortunate children from the inter- 
est and associations of the streets. 
Since the attendance is not compul- 
sory, the occupations of the vaca- 
tion school must present intrinsic 
interest, from the child's point of 
view. He must think it worth 
while, or he will not exchange for it 
the freedom and excitement of the 
street. The schools are therefore 
driven, and most fortunately, to 
learn what children consider worth 
while. It may be woodworking 



which claims their attention and at- 
tendance — or basket-weaving — or 
hammock making — or sewing and 
cooking — or reading hooks of travel 
— or singing patriotic songs to the 
accompaniment of a hoy's hand — or 
the weekly trips to the country, 
with walks in the green helds, so 
foreign to their feet, may prove "the 
tie that hinds." Obviously this op- 
portunity comes to the children 
whose home advantages are limited, 
whose parents are at work and can- 
not give them sufficient care, or 
who have not the means to give 
them the opportunities of a vaca- 
tion in the country. The play- 
grounds, sand gardens and the va- 
cation school unite in this en- 
deavor. The attendance in all three 
justifies the highest hopes of the 
earlv friends of the movement. The 
fortunate family which can move 
into the country for the summer 
provides all the normal conditions 
for a wholesome life for the child- 
ren during the vacation. Families 
living in the country can readily 
furnish employment and interesting 
occupations for the children in the 
summer but the city streets are a 
dangerous ground in which to 
spend the long summer vacation. 
Here again the general welfare is 
secured by the extension and modi- 
fication of the school curriculum in 
favor of the children whose home 
training is defective. 

The increasing clamor for indus- 
trial training is an evidence of the 
dependence of the community upon 
the modern school. There are two 
reasons alleged for the introduction 
of industrial training in our com- 
mon schools. The first satisfies the 
conscience of the "educator," who 
rts thai the mind acts normally 

with greater efficiency in propor- 
tion as the hand is trained to exe- 
cute its will. Industrial training 
is therefore of value since it ends in 
a finer intellectual training. But 
the louder call and the clearer note 
comes from the fathers and mothers 
who know that their boys and girls 
must work to earn their living and 
who ask that the school should 
supply such training as will result 
in the power of self-maintenance. 
The philosophy of education is not 
their immediate concern. Their 
children must be taught to labor 
and only the skilful laborer can 
command a fair remuneration. 
Therefore they ask most earnestly 
that training in doing shall be 
added to the training in knowledge- 
getting which the early curriculum 
provided. Here again we have the 
same operating cause. In the 
earlier days of our schools, the 
training in doing came through ap- 
prenticeship after the school days 
were over, or as the boy worked 
side by side with his father on the 
farm or in the shop, or the daugh- 
ter at her mother's side shared the 
duties of the household. Just so far 
as the family abandons this indus- 
trial training it must be added to 
the schools, for no one can doubt 
the need of such training for the 
growing members of the commun- 
ity. The presence of the technical 
courses in our high-schools and 
also the admission of cooking, sew- 
ing and wood-working into our 
grammar-school courses are thus 
accounted for. 

Evening schools, which are a part 
of the public provision for educa- 
tion in nearly every city, are an- 
other expression of the desire of 
the community to offset the limita- 



tions of the home. The child who 
must leave school to go to work 
may supplement his abreviated 
training by evening study. The 
man or woman, whose task de- 
mands an intelligence which their 
limited school days could not de- 
velop, may come for the evening 
instruction as freely as the child. 
Here again the paternal school fills 
the gaps which the home limita- 
tions have imposed. 

The dressmaker may come to 
learn how to keep her account, the 
stenographer to add to her equip- 
ment in English, the foreign born 
day-worker to learn to read and 
write the language of his adopted 
country. In the evening school the 
immediate need of the student is 
dominant. Nowhere else does the 
work of instruction seem so essen- 
tially real, so free from fiction and 
dogma. The student, recognizing 
his need, is hungry for help; and 
the teacher gives with the joy of 
recognized service. 

We are dealing now with certain 
changes in our schools which are 
intended to meet special demands, 
which either the abdication of the 
home, or its evident limitations, 
have made necessary. The exten- 
sion of its curriculum in reference 
to the larger opportunities, and in 
response to the demands of the col- 
leges belong to another chapter. 
But enough has been said and sug- 
gested of the attitude of the pub- 
lic toward the modern school. 
It is clearly seen that our people 
have recognized the truth that the 
schools belong to the community, 
and have been dedicated to its ser- 
vice. It is also apparent that the 
trend of public education is toward 

a larger usefulness, and it further 
appears that the hitherto confined 
and relatively narrow work of the 
teacher is to be supplemented by 
outside help, and brought into di- 
rect and living connection with the 
work of the world. 

But there are dangers here which 
are acknowledged by liberal and 
conservative alike. The school may 
be responsible for a part of the 
child's education, but never for the 
whole. The willingness to abdi- 
cate in favor of the school, which 
the actions of even intelligent par- 
ents evince will end in serious loss. 
The boy who profits by manual 
training in the school secures but a 
part of the advantages which the 
daily chores provided, with the 
sense of sharing in the family re- 
sponsibilities. And no school course 
in cooking and sewing can take the 
place of the daily demand for ser- 
vice which is rendered to supply 
another's needs. The school may 
endeavor to supplement the family 
instruction, but it would be a great 
pity if the need of such supplement- 
ing should continue indefinitely, 
and the family should accept the 
school as the sole primary and ulti- 
mate instructor in these matters, 
which were formerly considered 
from the school point of view ex- 
traneous. Therefore, it may be 
greatly to our advantage that there 
still abides in our midst a remnant 
which will insist upon the narrower 
field for the school, with the square 
placing of further duties upon the 
home, the church, and the philan- 
thropic agencies which represent 
those who, having much, are in 
honor bound to help those who 
have not yet attained. 

Municipal Ownership 

s and Figures Concerning the Experiment Conducted at Norwich, Connecticut, 
as Furnished by the Former City Treasu er. 

By Martin E. Jensen 

THAT the City of Norwich, 
Connecticut, operates a muni- 
cipal gas and electrical plant 
is generally known throughout New 
England. The history, the cost, 
and the results of the experiment 
to the city and to the taxpayers are 
less well known. This article is an 
attempt at supplying exact infor- 
mation, which, it is hoped, will 
prove of value to those who favor 
and to those who oppose municipal 

Jt is scarcely necessary to say 
that the figures furnished further 
on are based on vouchers of all 
kinds personally handled by the au- 

In 1 8^8 (if the writer's memory 
correctly serves him), dissatisfac- 
tion with contract street lighting by 
a local private corporation, the Nor- 
wich Gas and Electric Company, 
led the Court of Common Council 
of the City of Norwich to vote for 
municipal lighting. Through some 
oversighl a second vote on the 
question was not held by the Coun- 
cil within the official year, as re- 
quired by statute. As a result of 
this failure the matter could not be 

brought before the city electors. 

Nothing further was done until 
1902, when, in June, after proper 
action by the Council, the electors 
voted, by a large majority, for 
municipal lighting. The author 
has the best of reasons for saying 
that he doubts if the voters, as a 
whole, realized at the time, that 
the city would be compelled to buy 
the then existing plant instead of 
erecting its own electrical plant for 
the sole purpose of street lighting 
and lighting of public buildings. 

In accordance with law, proceed- 
ings were begun between the Nor- 
wich Gas and Electric Company 
and the City of Norwich. The 
Company asked almost $800,000 
for the plant ; the city considered 
this too high. A hearing was held 
before a specially appointed com- 
mission whose decision was sus- 
tained by the Supreme Court of 
Connecticut. Their decision was 
that the value of the plant as a go- 
ing concern was $590,000 in a lump 
sum, and that the city should pur- 
chase it at that price subject to a 
$400,000 mortgage in the form of 
bonds of the Norwich Gas and 




Electric Company. These bonds 
had twenty-four years still to run 
and the rate of interest was five 
per cent. 

On July i, 1904, $190,000 was 
paid to the Company for the equity 
of redemption. Litigation cost the 
city $28,832.35 and personal prop- 
erty bought by the city cost an ad- 
ditional $8,167.65. These items to- 
gether with the $190,000 already 
named made the total investment 
by the city $227,000, which amount 
was borrowed at four and one- 
fourth per cent. With the bonds 
issued by the Company, the value 
of the plant must be placed at 
$627,000. The Company paid its 
last tax on a valuation of $300,350. 

A Board of Gas and Electrical 
Commissioners was appointed by 
the Court of Common Council ; a 
competent superintendent was en- 
gaged; all the employees of the 
Company were retained with one 
voluntary exception ; the former 
cashier was retained; a clerk was 
engaged to assist the City Treasur- 
er in installing a system of account- 
ing and keeping the books. The 
Board, during the period covered 
by their report, referred to later, 
served without compensation, and 
continued so to do for another two 
months. This Board consisted of 
a well known judge of the Superior 
Court, a successful builder and con- 
tractor, and an ex-retail merchant. 
One member is a Republican and 
the others are Democrats. But pol- 
itics had no bearing upon the con- 
duct of affairs. This Board stood 
in the place of the usual business 
manager, and while lacking tech- 
nical knowledge — as must needs 
have been the case — they were 
quick to learn and unremitting in 

their attention to the needs of the 
plant, devoting much of their time 
to the practical end and also to 
close scrutiny of expenditures. 
Their first annual report, which 
may be had for the asking, shows 
the profit of operation under their 
custodianship. Unfortunately it 
does not show directly or indirect- 
ly the profit to the city, not to men- 
tion the taxpayers. The result of 
making the report public has been, 
on the whole, to create an impres- 
sion that the city had handsome re- 
turns from its lighting plant. Some 
months ago the mayor of Norwich 
attempted to correct this impres- 
sion in the Hartford Evening Post. 
The writer has done the same local- 

The profit to the city is, roughly, 
$11,300 less than the profit of cus- 
todianship. One item of this sum 
of $11,300, to wit, $641.20 for rent 
is mentioned in the explanatory 
portion of the report. The other 
item — a large one — is mentioned 
only to state that the Board has 
nothing to do with it. This item is 
for interest on loans and the §22J- 
000 invested. 

A few figures will show the re- 
sults of operation for the first thir- 
teen months. It must be stated 
that the $20,000 annual interest 
which the city must pay on the 
$400,000 bonds is counted an ex- 
pense, one-third being charged to 
gas and two-thirds to electricity. 
Also five per cent, depreciation on 
the city's investment of $227,000 is 
counted expense as by law re- 
quired, and divided in the same 
manner as the $20,000 interest. 
AVith these items and other ex- 
penses the report shows the follow- 
ing results : 



Income from general consumers $47,i9°-3 I 

Income from city lighting, (at cost) 478.61 

Total Income $47,668.92 

Total expense as explained earlier 37,219.15 

Profit on Gas $10449.77 

Profit on merchandise 104.28 

Total Profit to custodians on Gas $10,554.05 


Income from general consumers $39,409.78 

Income from street lighting, (at cost) i8,544-27 

Income from lighting public buildings, (at cost) 1,073.13 

Total expense as explained earlier 50,036-37 

Profit to custodians on Electricity $ 9,000.81 


Profit on Gas $10,554-05 

Profit on Electricity 9,000.81 

Total profit to custodians $19,554-86 

The figures last given have been ing gas and electricity, and respon- 

accepted%s the profit to the city, sible for all claims against it as a 

In reality it is the profit of opera- result thereof. 

tion turned over by the Board to There have been shown the profit 

the city and out of which the city to custodians, and the profit to the 

had to' pay certain rent and inter- corporation, the city, and there must 

est, as a result of taking over the be said a word in regard to the 

pj ant profit to the taxpayers. 

These items of rent and interest The Norwich Gas and Electric 

make $11,835.04. Company, as a result of selling 

It is correct to deduct from this their plant to the city, ceased to 

the water rates paid by the Gas pay taxes after July 1, 1904, with 

and Electrical Department to the the exception of city tax. It must 

municipally owned Water Depart- be explained here, that the tax- 

ment, because the money so paid payers of the City of Norwich pay 

returns to the City Treasury. This three taxes, viz., town tax, city 

amount is $523.89, which when tak- tax, and school district tax. Dur- 

en from $11,835.04, leaves addition- ing the first thirteen months cov- 

al expense to the city of $11,311.15. ered by the Report of the Board of 

Deduct this from the profit to cus- Gas and Electrical Commissioners, 

todians, $19,554.86 and $8,243.71 the taxpayers of Norwich contrib- 

remain as the profit to the city as uted $3,300 (approximately) more 

a corporation producing and sell- than they would have done if the 



plant had been operated by the 
former company. When this amount 
is subtracted from the profit to the 
city, there remains a profit to the 
taxpayers of $4,943.71. This profit 
consisted not of cash, but of the 
cash value of supplies, etc., on hand 
at the plant. 

There is only one more item in 
regard to the report. Meters are 
read between the 20th and the 24th 
of each month, and bills for these 
readings are sent out on the first 
of the next month. The gas and 
electricity delivered between read- 
ings in July, 1905 and August 1, 
1905, and of which necessarily no 
account appears, are estimated at 
$1,968.39. Had the city liquidated 
August 1, 1905, there would have 
been this additional amount of 
profit with no increase of expense. 
Of course this amount forms a 
part of the next year's income. 

Street lighting is charged, by 
law, at actual cost. As reported by 
the custodians, the cost for thir- 
teen months was $18,544.27. Some 
time after the report had been 
printed, the writer learned that for 
four months, (of which three be- 
longed to the period covered by the 
report, the meter registering the 
current used for street arc lamps 
was doing only half duty. This 
will increase the cost of street light- 
ing by about $3,000 making in all 

For street lighting 40 per cent. 
of all electricity produced was con- 
sumed. Adding to the figures given 
this percentage of the interest and 
rent paid by the city in addition to 
expenses of the Board, and deduct- 
ing 40 per cent, of electric water 
rates, the cost of street lighting is 
$24,476.41. The interest and rent 

amount to $2,932.14. If the profit 
to taxpayers is deducted from this 
cost, it will be found that munici- 
pal street lighting has cost but very 
little less than lighting under the 
contract with the former company, 
perhaps $3,000 less. Shortly after 
the city took charge of the plant 
the hours of labor were reduced 
from twelve to eight, with no de- 
crease of wages in any case and 
with an increase of wages in sev- 
eral cases. This eight hour day is 
in conformity with the ordinances 
of the city. This unavoidable 
change increased the cost of output. 
For ten months the cost of gas to 
small consumers was $1.35 flat per 
thousand cubic feet. Afterward 
the price was reduced to $1.25 flat. 
The average price received was 
$1.23. The price of electricity was 
also cut. The estimate of the 
writer is that the cut in rates will 
reduce the income about 11 per 
cent, excepting as additional con- 
sumers are had. 

Briefly to consider the future, it 
may be said that an additional ex- 
penditure for new apparatus has 
been warranted to the extent of 
$60,000. The delay in installation 
of the new apparatus cannot very 
greatly affect the second year's 
operations. But the result will be 
to cheapen the cost of production 
of both gas and electricity, and the 
third year of operation should 
show a decided gain in that direc- 
tion. With the cheapening of pro- 
duction is a steady growth of con- 
sumers of both gas and electricity 
and there is every reason to think 
that this growth will continue. The 
public is benefited by the installa- 
tion of additional street lights from 
time to time. 


To offset cheapening of product 

and increase of consumers there 
must lie mentioned increased inter- 
est at say, $2,400 per annum : in- 
creased depreciation of $3,000 per 
annum : and increase of office sala- 
ries of $2,IOO per annum. 

During the second year of opera- 
tion it looks very much as if the 
taxpayers will have to meet $7,000 
which the plant under former man- 
agement would have paid, but, of 
course, this may be made good by 
profits. The writer would be grate- 
ful for a decision of an interesting 
matter on which opposite views are 
held by the Board of Commission- 
ers and certain people outside of 
city affairs. It is as follows : The 
$400,000 bond issue is not a liabil- 
ity of the city according to the 
Board of Commissioners, and 5 per 
cent, depreciation is not charged on 
that amount. 

Many Norwichians contend that 
this depreciation should be charged 
each year. If this additional ex- 
pense of $20,000 should thus be in- 
curred, as would be the case if the 
city took up the bonds, one would 

be reminded of a remark of George 
Ade relative to a new town hall in 
a small community — it put the tax- 
payers in a hole for the next two 
hundred and fifty years. 

In conclusion the author begs 
leave to state his personal views 
for those who choose to read them, 
and he asks permision to use the 
first person, singular. 

I think that the laws compelling 
a municipality to purchase an ex- 
isting plant are not favorable to 
the purchaser. 

I think that the cost of the Nor- 
wich plant was excessive. 

Examination of local municipal 
accounting covering a period from 
1867 to 1905 convinced me that 
cities, conducting their affairs 
through unpaid and untrained com- 
missioners, run hopelessly into debt 
because appropriations are over 
spent. I except the Gas and Elec- 
trical Commissioners who have not 
had time to make history. 

To those contemplating going in- 
to municipal lighting under Nor- 
wich conditions, I would say 




Founded 1758 

Published monthly at 
8 Dix Place, Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 

Editor, Winthrop Packard. 


U. S., Canada and Mexico $3.00 per year 
Foreign Countries . . . $3.75 per year 

Remit by draft on Boston, Express or 
Post Office Order, payable to 

New England Magazine 

THE Boston Symphony Orches- 
tra, which for twenty-five years 
has held sway in the hearts of 
music loving New Englanders, is 
upon the threshold of another year 
of service to the community. A 
Boston idea, carried out with the 
usual Boston tenacity of purpose, 
good taste and efficiency, this or- 
ganization became almost immedi- 
ately of wide spread influence in 
the musical circles one might well 
say, of the nation. It has broadened 
the field for and the appreciation of 
good music in America and has 
caused American music to be spok- 
en of with respect in every Euro- 
pean nation. It draws its players 
from the best talent of the world, 
its audiences from all America, its 
conductors from the best institu- 
tions of Germany, the nation which 
leads the world musically. 

All this is tola}' and has been 
for a quarter of a century the work 
of one man, Mr. Henry Lee Hig- 
ginson of Boston. He alone has 
been the organizer, the promoter, 
the financial supporter. The burden 
of the responsibility has been all his 
and so well has he labored that he 
may look back along the vista of the 
years and, seeing his work, pro- 
nounce it good. 

Mr. Higginson disavows any 
philanthropic aim in this work 
which he has so long done for the 
musical world. He has founded 
and maintained a consummately ar- 
tistic institution and has found in 
it that same personal delight which 
other men find in maintaining a 
racing stable or the collection of a 
great library of rare first editions. 
And the cost during the last 
twenty-five years has no doubt been 
far greater than would have been 
that of either of these fads. In 
spite of the fact that even the great 
Symphony hall, erected by a syndi- 
cate for the purposes of the orches- 
tra, is not big enough to hold the 
weekly audiences and that tickets 
even for the season's rehearsals 
sell at a premium of $80 to $90, the 
yearly cost of the maintenance of 
the orchestra has been far greater 
than the income derived from it. To 
maintain the best orchestra in 
America, perhaps in the world, it 
has taken not only the entire in- 
come from the sale of seats at the 
concerts but about $20,000 more 
yearly, which has come from Mr. 
Higginson's own pocket. On only 
one year of all the twenty-five has 
the orchestra shown a profit. On 
one other there was a loss of but 
about $2,000 while on one there 
was a deficit of over $50,000. 



It has been thought by some that 
in one respect, if in one only, the 
institution established and main- 
tained by Mr. Higginson has fallen 
short of the high ideals set for it. 
The intent of the Friday afternoon 
public rehearsals was that music 
students and music lovers might be 
able to hear the best of music at a 
merely nominal price, the best seats 
at any one rehearsal being sold for 
fifty cents. Competition on the part 
oi the general public, however, im- 
mediately changed all that. To pre- 
vent speculation it was found 
necessary to sell these seats at auc- 
tion to the highest bidder and it 
soon resulted that $18 seats for the 
season sold at $80 — $90. There is 
still an opportunity for patient and 
active, if impecunious, music lovers 
to hear the rehearsals for a nominal 
sum as the galleries are thrown 
open to the public for a small en- 
trance fee, first come first served. 
Here again however competition 
enters. The demand for these 
seats far exceeds the supply and it 
is no uncommon sight of a Friday 
during the Symphony season to see 
a long row, sometimes hundreds, of 
young women waiting patiently for 
hours and hours. Some bring 
camp stools, lunch and literature, 
but others stand, listless and weary, 
and the sympathetic passer can but 
feel that such pay a high price for 
their music. The inclemency of 
Boston winter weather naturally 
rules out of this line all but the 
physically fit. Some device where- 
by such people may avoid the weary 
hours of waiting would fill a long 
fell want and no doubt be as highly 
appreciated by the management as 
the symphony seekers. Thus far 
however none such has appeared. 

There are, however, the Pop con- 
certs. These have been credited to 
a desire to sell ginger ale and other 
innocuous refreshments with musi- 
cal attachment, to the Boston pub- 
lic. Such is not the case. At least 
one good reason for the establish- 
ment and maintenance of the Pop 
concerts has been to extend the 
time during which symphony per- 
formers might draw a salary, the 
twenty-nine weeks of the symphony 
season being too short a term. 
Hence good music of a lighter grade 
than that of the symphonies, ad- 
mirably performed. To be sure, the 
best of the symphony performers 
do not appear at the 'Tops" for ob- 
vious reasons, but of late years 
more and more of the best music 
of the symphonies has been sand- 
wiched in between lighter airs and 
has been met with hearty applause. 
Undoubtedly many people who can- 
not afford a full season of sym- 
phony, and who have neither the 
strength nor the patience to stand 
in line a good part of Friday to se- 
cure a seat at a single rehearsal, 
satisfy their souls at the "Pops" 
where they hear much of the same 
music equally well rendered and do 
not need to imbibe other intoxicants 
unless they care to. 

The Symphony Orchestra has 
been in much demand outside of 
Boston. It has in past years made 
annual pilgrimages to the heathen 
and given the public of New York, 
Philadelphia and other cities oppor- 
tunities to hear its music, to which 
this distant public has nobly re- 
sponded. More than that; such 
has been the influence of Mr. Hig- 
ginson's Boston enterprise that 
several cities have established or- 
chestras of their own along similar 



lines for the production of first- 
class music. 

These cities have no doubt had 
the same difficulties and discour- 
agements which Mr. Higginson has 
so bravely met. In spite of large 
patronage and enthusiasm the cost 
of production has been so great that 
there is almost always a deficit at 
the end of the season. Thus, in 
Chicago during the ten years of the 
life of its symphony orchestra 
there has been a total deficit of 
$300,000, which the promoters 
have had to go down in their 
pockets to make good. In one 

year Philadelphia sank $80,000 and 
Pittsburg $40,000. 

It will thus be seen that while the 
organization and maintenance of a 
Symphony Orchestra is of immense 
benefit to the immediate commun- 
ity and reflects credit and benefits 
upon the whole country to a very 
considerable extent, it is also an 
exceedingly costly enterprise and 
one which does credit, in Boston's 
case, not only to Mr. Higginson's 
love of music and ability as an or- 
ganizer, but also to his generosity 
and public spirit in assuming so 
heavy a financial burden. 

On an Old Russian Candlestick 

By Margaret Ashmun 

Once, long ago 1 know not where nor when 

It cast its light upon some strange-set board, 
Around which, fur-enmantled, lounged a horde 

Of hot-eyed youth and swart, thick-bearded men. 

Its flame lit up their wine-wild faces, then 
It caught the studded hilt of dirk and sword, 
And stopped till, coarse-carousing with her lord 

Some jewelled woman flashed it back again. 

Far from those mingled scenes of mirth and ire 
This bit of brass forlornly braves its doom 

To waste with me the silent days' desire, 
To watch long nights of quietness and gloom, 

To share the lonely glimmer of my fire, 
And cheer the hired bareness of my room. 

Tickle-Town Topics 


The Struggles of a Typical New 
England Village against Politi- 
cal Graft, Tainted Money and 
Business Corruption. 

By Walter A. Dyer 

I FIND that while the light of 
national publicity has been 
turned upon practically every 
other important center in the 
United States, disclosing unspeak- 
able horrors of crime and corrup- 
tion, to me is left the painful duty 
of fearlessly exposing the degrada- 
tion of Bloomtown, Bay County, 
Massachusetts, and describing the 
up-hill struggles of a handful of 
brave reformers in behalf of honest 
representation and clean citizen- 

Bloomtown is one of the old, his- 
toric Puritan settlements of New 
England. It cannot be said that 
her people have ever been contami- 
nated by the evils of rapid immi- 
gration. Her troubles are upon her 
own head. Who is to blame? Let 
11- <>ee. 

Bloomtown was once a quiet, 
law-abiding, God-fearing commun- 
ity. Her fall dates, roughly speak- 
ing, from the early '80s. We need 
not go farther back than that. There 
IS a college at Bloomtown Center, 

and in the old days the college stu- 
dents were considered citizens of 
the town in good standing, and had 
a voice in her councils. On one 
fatal day, through one of those lap- 
ses of judgment that' seem to afflict 
all men sooner or later, the college 
students made a sad error. They 
were gathered in full force at the 
annual Town Meeting in March. 
They had a clean majority and, car- 
ried away by the thirst for power, 
they passed a vote to build a new 
town hall, which should be one 
hundred feet high, two hundred 
feet deep and one foot wide. Now 
this was an error in judgment, as 
there was no pressing need for a 
new town hall, and the town au- 
thorities were obliged to take the 
law to the State Legislature to 
have it repealed. Legislature also 
ruled that the students were not 
legally citizens of the town, and so 
deprived them of their franchise. 
So town and gown parted political 
company forever. 

The Inception of the Machine 

Thus deprived of the influences 
that emanated from the seat of 
learning and culture, and the high 
student ideals that made for purity 
in civic life, Bloomtown gradually 
caught the modern American idea 
and allowed itself to drift helplessly 
34 r > 



into the clutch of political rings 
and grafters. 

For some time, the casual attend- 
ant at Town Meeting would have 
noticed nothing more alarming than 
the usual heated discussions over 
the school appropriations, the re- 
pairing of the town clock, the build- 
ing of a board sidewalk on Jona- 
than Edwards street, and the plac- 
ing of a street lamp in front of the 
Episcopal Church, on the steps of 
which Deacon Wood asserted, in an 
impassioned speech, that he had 
twice heard unmistakable sounds of 
billin' an' cooin'. The moral tone 
of the town must be preserved in- 
violent, or in violets, or words to 
that effect. 

But evil forces were quietly at 
work beneath the surface. "Good" 
citizens attend Town Meeting once 
a year and eat March Meeting cake, 
and consider their duty done, but 
the professional politician works 
three hundred and sixty-five days 
in the year, with the possible ex- 
ception of the day after the cattle 
show, when he may be forced to 
"lay off" to recuperate. 

Slowly but surely Lawyer Darby 
built up a machine. He never ran 
for office himself. Your true boss 
never does that. He sat in his 
office in the Mercantile building 
and controlled things. 

After a few years there began to 
be circulated rumors of graft in the 
assessor's office. There was an in- 
vestigation, and Myron Marsh was 
retired. The machine takes care of 
its own, however, and after the 
scandal had quieted down, Myron 
reappeared as Inspector of Roads 
and Bridges, with a salary of $250 
a year. 

For the most part, however, Boss 

Darby gave Bloomtown "good" 
government. Bloomtown still has 
"good" government. Her citizens 
are proud of it. They have said to 
me, "Look at Squashville," or, 
"There are no better roads in the 
State," or, "We have never had to 
send a public official to jail, as they 
have in Boston and Pecovvsic." 
Thus, through the blindness and 
lethargy of the "best" citizens does 
a government pass into the hands 
of those who bribe and barter. 

The Life of Bloomtown's Trust 

As in other noteworthy cases, 
"business" eventually took a hand. 
And to set forth the situation 
clearly, I must briefly outline the 
history of the Bloomtown Dairy 
Association and give a personal 
sketch of the remarkable man who 
organized and still controls that 
notorious trust, John D. Spudd, the 
man who holds it as a part, of his 
creed that the milk business of Bay 
County is his by divine right, the 
originator of that classic epigram, 
"Bizness is bizness." 

John Spudd was the son of a poor 
but thrifty farmer of North Bloom- 
town. Even as a boy he displayed 
a notable business ability and the 
power of acquiring and accumulat- 
ing money. One or two little anec- 
dotes of his early career will suf- 
fice to illustrate the early appear- 
ance of those characteristics which 
later distinguished him. 

When only twelve years old John 
conceived the idea of peddling 
sweet cider to the college boys 
in the fall, and soon built up a luc- 
rative business. He paid his father 
a small sum for the use of an old 



horse and wagon and bought his 
cider at a North Bloomtown cider 
mill. He was known as a very close 
buyer. It has been strongly hinted 
to me that he was accustomed to 
increase the volume of his cider by 
the use of well water, but this has 
never been thoroughly corrobor- 
ated. He sold the cider at market 
prices, monopolizing the college 
trade. It is also related that once 
some students bought his trousers 
— for immediate delivery — for a 
dollar. John parted with them with 
his usual shrewd seriousness, and it 
was discovered that he that day had 
on two pair. Then he went to the 
clothing store and purchased a new 
pair, slightly shopworn, for fifty 
cents. That night he entered the 
item in the account book which he 
scrupulously kept, as follows : — 

Oct. 30, Clothing Transaction, 
net, $ .50 

Even in those days John showed 
religious and charitable tendencies, 
and took a cent to Sunday-School, 
every Sabbath. 

The Rise of the Milk Trust 

When John Spudd reached his 
majority, he owned an interest in 
his father's farm, kept two cows 
and maintained a local milk route. 
In 1889, at the age of thirty-one, he 
owned fifty acres of land, including 
the finest pasturage in town, a large 
drove of Jersey cattle of picked 
quality, four horses, two milk wag- 
ons, a large delivery wagon, big 
barns and all the appliances needed 
for 1 laying and raising fodder. He 
had four men in his employ, was 
married and had a daughter. 

But he was not satisfied. Men of 

the Spudd type are never satisfied. 
They must ever be working pa- 
tiently and industriously, that they 
may always be getting more and 

Ten years later John D. Spudd 
was president and chief owner of 
the Bloomtown Dairy Association, 
one of the richest men in the 
County and a pillar in the North 
Bloomtown Congregational church. 
He also owned Bill Toohey, suc- 
cessor to Boss Darby, but of that, 
more anon. 

I dwell upon the character of 
John D. Spudd, not so much as an 
individual, but as a type of the 
modern business man, for whom 
success justifies any and all means. 
John D. Spudd, I take it, is the in- 
carnation of the American spirit of 

And yet Mr. Spudd has paid for 
his success. He has rheumatism in 
his left leg and is subject to tooth- 

Just glance at his latest portrait. 
Sternness and uncompromising au- 
sterity are written there. Notice 
the narrow mouth, denoting cruelty, 
and the little eyes, set near to- 
gether, denoting meanness. And 
then there is an inscrutable expres- 
sion in the whole face that makes 
one shudder. A remarkable and a 
repulsive portrait ! 

John D. Spudd is a lonely man. 
Strictly correct in his domestic life, 
he yet lacks the sympathy of 
mother and daughter because of his 
own taciturnity and selfishness. 
Though a pillar in the church, he 
is still an outsider. He never goes 
to maple sugar socials or straw- 
berry festivals. He seems to have 
no place in his narrow, unnatural 
soul for the joys of picnics and 



straw-rides. Is the richest man in 
Bay county to be envied, after all ! 

Business in League with Politics 

John D. Spudd learned to use 
politics for business purposes be- 
fore the Trust was formed. Pas- 
turage was poor one summer, and 
a wide margin of succulent grass 
grew along the road which ran by 
the Spudd farm. It suited Mr. 
Spudd's purposes to allow his cows 
to feed on this grass. But John 
Spudd was above petty bribing of 
pound keepers and highway com- 
missioners. It was against his prin- 
ciples, and besides, big business 
doesn't go at things in that way. 
He went quietly to the office of old 
Lawyer Darby, and talked "busi- 
ness." No one knows just what 
occurred at this historic conference. 
It is said that the weather and the 
mosquitos were troublesome on 
that day. However, the Spudd 
cows were left unmolested on the 
town grass, and an offensive and 
defensive alliance was formed be- 
tween the boss of Bloomtown and 
her foremost captain of industry 
and finance. 

The growth of the Bloomtown 
Dairy Association, or the Milk 
Trust, as it is popularly called, was 
rapid and steady. The story of it 
is much like the stories of the other 
great monopolies, already familiar 
to American magazines readers. In 
1900 the Trust controlled the en- 
tire dairy and creamery business of 
Bay county. It owned, in addition, 
much real estate, a large block of 
stock in the Massachusetts North- 
ern Railway, interest in the Bloom- 
town National bank, and other 
properties. Its power was insidi- 

ous and far-reaching. No man 
knew just what the stock in the 
Trust was worth, and no man knew 
just how much of this stock was 
owned by John D. Spudd. 

Ruthlessly, successfully, Spudd 
beat down opposition, for there was 
opposition, of course. First the 
Trust gained control of all the cat- 
tle in the county, either by owner- 
ship, or by long time arrangements 
with the farmers, who were only 
too glad to be sure of a steady mar- 
ket, even at lower prices. Having 
thus gained control of the crude 
product, Spudd next turned his at- 
tention to the dairies and creamer- 
ies, which were either bought for 
Trust stock, or compelled to buy 
their raw material from the Trust 
at Trust prices. Price cutting drove 
out local dealers one by one, and 
there was discrimination every- 
where in favor of the Trust. 

In 1896 a sturdy group of men 
in the milk region formed a pool to 
fight the Trust, but they could 
make little headway, and at last 
were forced to capitulate, one large 
operator going over to the enemy. 
During this fight the opposition 
conceived the idea of beating the 
rebate system by running a pipe- 
line for milk from Huddlebrook 
through Bloomtown, to Loring, the 
county seat, but the scheme proved 
impracticable for scientific reasons. 
So one by one the rivals were 
crushed, the Trust gained control 
of their business and Spudd be- 
came the Milk King. 

A Wave of Reform 

By this time Spudd could afford 
to maintain a member in the Mass- 
achusetts House of Representa- 
tives, and had little more need for 


the local machine. That is how he 
came to escape direct punishment 
when the wave of reform struck 

The machine, allowed to shift for 
itself, became greedy and began to 
look with contempt upon the body 
oi citizens. Grafting at the Town 
Hall became more open. This us- 
ually happens before the storm. Be- 
sides. Bill Toohey, the new boss, 
lacked the finesse of his predeces- 

First, the "Weekly Clarion" un- 
earthed a police scandal. It was 
proved that Tim Burke, the town 
policeman. had been accepting 
bribes from the college students for 
allowing them to smuggle beer in- 
to town from Loring, without mo- 
lestation. The voters at last be- 
came aroused, and a Good Citizens' 
League was formed, under the 
leadership of Charlie Spink, Too- 
hev's rival in the law business. 
Charges were preferred against 
Burke, and he was dismissed from 
service. The fact that he had capi- 
tal enough to open a cigar store in 
Loring needs no comment. It 
came out in the trial, however, that 
part of the graft money had gone 
to someone higher up. The Select- 
men and certain officials received 
an overhauling in the press, but 
nothing was proved. 

Then the Good Citizens' League 
started a reform campaign, which 
resulted in the nomination of a fu- 
sion ticket for the next Town Meet- 
ing, with Deacon Wood up for 
moderator, Lawyer Spink for Town 
Clerk, and various honest farmers 
the Hoard of Selectmen, the School 
Board and the minor officers. The 
demand was for honesty first, and 
efficiency second. Denominational 

lines were for the time being for- 

When the Town Meeting oc- 
curred in March, 1900, the town was 
aroused as never before since the 
Civil War. A house, to house can- 
vass had been made by the parti- 
sans of both sides, and the Town 
Hall was packed to the doors. 
Many of the college students, 
though non-voters, attended in the 
interests of good government, but 
being, it is alleged, purposely mis- 
informed by Toohey and his work- 
ers, they cheered for one side as 
often as for the other. 

A Whirl-Wind Campaign 

At first it seemed like a victory 
for the reformers. Deacon Wood 
was elected moderator amid a great 
tumult, and as he ascended the ros- 
trum, he was greeted by dozens of 
small but painful projectiles from 
long pea-shooters. The suspicion 
has never died out that many of 
the college undergraduates, includ- 
ing two or three students for the 
ministry, had been corrupted by the 
Toohey machine for the purpose of 
this demonstration. 

Then followed a bitter struggle. 
The machine workers were here and 
there and everywhere, working 
among the voters, knowing that the 
life of the machine, with its town 
and county patronage, was at stake. 
It is alleged that money was freely 
used that day. At any rate, some 
of the younger voters went over to 
the enemy, and toward the end the 
machine had things pretty much its 
own way. As a result, honors were 
pretty evenly divided. The office 
of Town Clerk was among those 
carried by the reformers, Spink 



arising at the critical moment and 
delivering a ringing oration in be- 
half of reform. 

Since that day it has been a con- 
tinuous struggle. Sometimes one 
side has triumphed and sometimes 
the other. Occasionally graft has 
been unearthed and punished, and 
the general sentiment in favor of 
honest administration of public 
affairs has been steadily growing. 
On the other hand, there is the fa- 
tal tendency on the part of "good" 
citizens to let politics alone. There 
has also been some discussion with- 
in the ranks of the Good Citizens' 
League, and charges of inefficiency 
have been made against some of 
the reform office holders, particu- 
larly those who had never been told 
that they were candidates. 

But still bleeding Bloomtown 
struggles on, liked bartered Chi- 
cago, Tammany-ridden New York, 
•corrupt but contented Philadelphia, 
filthy Pittsburg, betrayed Oshkosh 
and wallowing Wallawalla. But 
the right can win only when the 
community rises up in its might 
and refuses longer to be sold out 
"by its best citizens. Hence the re- 
cent outcry against John D. Spudd. 

The Question of Tainted Money 

A couple of years ago a new min- 
ister was called to the pastorate of 
the North Bloomfield Congrega- 
tional Church. He was a tall, long- 
liaired pulpit-pounder who, in spite 
of his youth, had found favor in the 
eyes of the Church Council and 
Trustees, by reason of his earnest- 
ness, soundness of doctrine and 
loudness of voice. 

For a year the young Rev. Ed- 
ward Grouse continued to give 
ministerial satisfaction, and was 

much admired by the more or less 
marriageable maids of his parish. 
He adroitly avoided the danger of 
giving offense by political activity, 
for though it was understood that 
he had naturally allied himself with 
the reform forces, and was spoken 
of as a possible candidate for the 
School Board, he refused to engage 
in acrimonious disputes, and made 
no reference to politics in the pul- 

But the day came when the Rev. 
Mr. Grouse was put on trial, and 
this was the way of it. 

As has before been stated, John 
D. Spudd was a prominent member 
of Mr. Grouse's church. Never had 
he ommitted to give carefully 
planned financial support to the 
church since the days of the Sun- 
day-School penny. All his charity 
was considered with as much 
shrewdness and foresight as were 
his business dealings. 

But the cry of "tainted money" 
had been raised in the land, and 
when Deacon Corntossel returned 
with a lengthy report from a Con- 
gregational Conference in Boston, 
there arose much discussion among 
the members of the North Bloom- 
town Congregational Church. Nor 
was this discussion in any wise 
abated when the treasurer of the 
church formally announced at the 
annual meeting that Mr. John D. 
Spudd had offered to give one hun- 
dred dollars in cash for a new car- 

Now a new carpet was badly 
needed in the church, and Bolivar 
Todd, the Sunday-school superin- 
tendent, arose and moved an elab- 
orate vote of thanks. Deacon Corn- 
tossel was on his feet in an instant 
to fight the motion, and it was all 



Parson Grouse could do to quiet 
the hubbub. At his suggestion the 
matter was referred to a committee 
consisting ot" the Hoard of Trustees, 
the Treasurer and the Pastor. 

The council met at the Pastor's 
house the following evening and 
discussed the matter pro and con. 
The parson strove valiantly to 
avoid bitterness, but could not pre- 
vent the debate from becoming 
most heated. Recriminations and 
personalities were but thinly veiled, 
to say nothing of what Supt. B. 
Todd diplomatically referred to as 

Almost a Deadlock 

There were seven members of 
the Board of Trustees and the 
treasurer made eight ; the Pastor 
presided. When at last a vote was 
taken, it was found to be a tie. All 
refused to reconsider and the pre- 
siding officer was forced by Rob- 
erts's Rules of Order to cast the 
deciding vote. Parson Grouse's 
plea that he might be given until 
Sunday for prayer and meditation 
was granted. 

Xow the Rev. Edward Grouse 
had both courage and conscience. 
"He's so damn upright," John 
Spudd said to his wife, one day, 
"that he leans over backward." 

But Edward Grouse also pos- 
sessed some tact and common- 
sense, more than might have been 
expected of him in view of heredity, 
training and environment. He loved 
peace, and prayed that his church 
might be delivered from schism. 
But he prayed even more fervently 
that it might be delivered from false 
doctrine. In his own Puritan heart 
he believed that it was false doc- 
trine to accept tainted money, and 

everybody knew that John Spudd's 
money was tainted. Besides, he 
cared vastly for the opinion of 
those who favored rejection, and he 
had a shrewd Yankee notion that 
it would do him no harm in the 
long run to dare to be a Daniel. 

On the other hand the church 
really did need a carpet, and there 
seemed little chance of getting it 
in any other way. Why not put 
even tainted money to a Godly use? 
Both sides of the subject seemed to 
be argued with equal ability in the 
public prints. 

But there was a weightier argu- 
ment in the mind of the young min- 
ister. He had recently become be- 
trothed to Matilda, the fair daugh- 
ter and heiress of the house of 
Spudd. What would the old man 
have to say on that matter if the 
hundred were scornfully rejected? 

Edward Grouse spent Saturday 
night, until he became very sleepy, 
in more or less prayerful mental 
conflict, but in the end he reached 
his decision. 

Church versus Trust 

On Sunday morning the edifice 
of the North Bloomtown Congre- 
gational church was packed to the 
doors. It was estimated that over 
two hundred and ten souls were 
present. It was very well known 
throughout the township that 
something momentous was to hap- 
pen, and throngs of partisans of 
both sides came, eager to learn the 
outcome at first hand. Hordes of 
interested Baptists and Unitarians 
deserted their respective houses of 
worship, and people drove in from 
East Bloomtown and the Center. 
There were even several students 



of Psychology, Sociology, Political 
Economy and Moral Philosophy 
from Bloomtown College, who at- 
tended in the interests of science. 

All eves were fixed upon the 
Spudd pew, near the front, where 
the Trust magnate sat with his wife 
and charming daughter. Mrs. 
Spudd wore a new bonnet, rich with 
velvet and glistening jet. But when 
the pastor entered and ascended the 
pulpit, the interest was immediately 

The opening" exercises were hur- 
ried through in a perfunctory man- 
ner, and the congregation sang 
"God Moves in a Mysterious Way," 
which for the time being had the 
natural effect of raising the hopes 
of the partisans of acceptance. Then 
the pastor took several papers from 
his breast pocket and gave out the 
notices for the week. He mentioned 
the topics of the Young People's 
Meeting and the Weekly Prayer 
Meeting, and the hours and meet- 
ing places of the Mission Study 
club and the Women's Guild. Then 
he paused. 

He made a striking figure in the 
pulpit, in his black ministerial garb 
and his expanse of white cuff. All 
eyes were turned earnestly upon 
him. His long hair was brushed 
straight back, his mouth was set in 
lines of determination and the nos- 
trils of his large, somewhat Ro- 
man nose seemed to quiver with 

With the atmosphere of the 
church electrified with excitement, 
the pastor announced in clear, firm 
tones that for well considered rea- 
sons the special council had decided 
not to accept the gift of one hun- 
dred dollars which had been an- 
nounced at the annual meeting. 

Then, reading a passage from the 
second chapter of James, he 
preached a powerful sermon on the 
difficulty of the rich man's getting 
into Heaven through the eye of a 

The Amen of the benediction had 
no sooner been pronounced than a 
buzz of excited conversation arose 
from the congregation. But the 
parson did not linger to join the 
animated groups about the church 
doors and in front of the pulpit. He 
hastened home to his study at 

The Triumph of the Right 

The Spudd family did not 
attend evening service, and so the 
congregation were deprived of the 
expected pleasure of seeing Matilda 
refuse the minister's company home. 
But after they had all gone, Ed- 
ward Grouse summoned up his 
courage and strolled down the road 
to the Spudd mansion. 

Although it was early May and 
the evening was chilly, Matilda was 
waiting for him, nervously swing- 
ing on the front gate. 

"Hello, Neddy," said she, "I 
thought you'd come." 

"Then you aren't mad at me?" 
he inquired eagerly. 

"Naw," said she. "Why should 
I be?" 

"Hasn't your father forbidden 
you to see me again?" 

"Say," she answered, "pa's most 
tickled ter death. Sez you've saved 
'im a heap o' money. Besides, he 
sez it'll be the biggest advertise- 
ment him an' the Dairy Associa- 
tion ever got. It'll be in the Bloom- 
town Clarion an' the Bay County 
Gazette, an' mebbe other papers. 

35 I 

N E \Y E X G L A N D M A G A Z I N E 

Pa's got some photographs all 
ready for 'em. He's int'rested in 

the new trolley line, an' thinks he'll 
hat ter run for the State Senate nex' 
tall, an' ev'ry little helps, he sez. 
An' besides, there's a feller goin' ter 
write 'im up an' put 'is picter in a 
magazine, an' tell a lot about ev'ry- 
thing. Bloomtown's goirl' ter git 
a great boom, pa sez." 

"'In a magazine?" 

*'Yep. Pa sez these magazine 
fellers is a pretty poor lot, gen'rally, 

an'll write up anything the editors'll 
pay for." 

"Queer chaps, these magazine 
writers," said Grouse. 

"Ain't they?" she answered. 

And then, the conservation over, 
the quiet of the Sabbath evening- 
was desecrated by a resounding os- 
culation, sounding not unlike one 
of the Bloomtown Dairy Associa- 
tion's Jerseys, pulling her foot from 
the mud down at the meadow bot- 

Bill Smith's Whopper 

By Nixon Waterman 

I never heard no one deny 

That old Bill Smith knows how to lie. 

Of all the men I ever saw 

He wags about the smoothest jaw 

For tellin' stones. 'Tisn't hard 

For Bill to spin 'em by the yard. 

He starts his tongue a-goin' and 

Just rattles on to beat the band. 

Remember one day, three or four 
Of us was down to Slocum's store 
A-braggin' of the shootin' we 
Had done, when Bill he says, says he, 
"One time, 'twas years and years ago 
When pigeons was so thick, you know 
I made a shot so big, T swow, 
I'm 'fraifl to tell it even now! 


"But, any way, 'twas in the fall 
And near my house I'd built a tall, 
Round stack of oats on which had lit 
Wild pigeons till they covered it 
From top to bottom just that thick 
There really wasn't room to stick 
A pin between 'em ! There they set 
So saucy-like, and et and et. 

"I took my rifle down and just 
Poured powder in her till she'd bu'st 
I feared ! And then rammed down a ball 
And then contrived, somehow, to crawl 
Behind a fence that wound about 
Right up to that there stack without 
Their seem', when there came to me 
A sort of brain-wave, you'll agree. 

"I knew the way them pigeons set 
That, do my best, I couldn't get 
More than a dozen at a shot, 
Which seemed a pesky little lot. 
But when that brain-wave that was sent 
From somewhere reached me, I just bent 
That rifle-barrel right 'round my knee 
Till it was half a circle, see? 

"Well, when I fired her off I found 

That ball had gone right 'round and 'round 

That stack and killed of pigeons fine 

Just plumb nine hundred and ninety-nine !" 

"Make it a thousand, Bill," we said, 

But Bill he slowly shook his head 

"No, I won't tell a lie," said he, 
"For just one pigeon, no sirree !" 

Halifax, Nova Scotia 

One of Canada's Atlantic Gateways 

By A. M. Payne 


THE glamour of the Orient, un- 
folded by the epoch making 
events of recent years finds a 
counterpart in the midway Occident, 
on the northern half of the American 
continent where the staid East yields 
the palm for rapid progress to the 
boundless optimism of the great 
West. Nevertheless the expansion 
of the West is largely due to the 
restless energy of the East, where 
in tile words of Carlyle "the goal 
of yesterday is the starting point of 
tomorrow." In the broad area of 
nearly 4,000,000 square miles of land 
and water comprising the Dominion 
of ( 'anada, between ocean and ocean 
the Province of Nova Scotia occu- 
pies a position of commanding im- 
portance as the nearest vantage 
ground to the European trade pivot. 
Its nomenclature deserves more 
than passing notice. Mark-land, the 

"forest land of note," the southeast- 
ern extremity of the Dominion, and 
Vinland "the Good" on the shores of 
Massachusetts and Rhode Island, 
share the legends of the ancient 
Norse discoverers a thousand years 
back in the shadowy past. 

L'Acadie, more reliable in its 
adaptation, appears to be a blending 
of the Micmac Cadie or Quoddy 
into the early French term, L'Aca- 
die, anglicized to Acadia, a clearly 
defined, euphonious, title which 
might well have been retained for 
all time. The present designation 
Nova Scotia (New Scotland) de- 
rives its origin from Sir William 
Alexander to whom King James I of 
England granted the territory in 
[621. The alert perceptions of the 
early French pioneers with regard 
to the selection of eligible sites were 
specially indicated in their long, de-J 





termined efforts to secure a foot- 
hold in L'Acadie, as an outpost of 
New France. Numerous lodgments 
were made by them, notably at Port 
Royal, Beausejour, and Louisburg, 
with periodical visits to Baie Saine 
the Halifax of today. 

The ever present casus belli was 
New England versus New France. 
Volumes upon volumes have been 
written, displaying as through an 
illuminating literary camera the va- 
rying phases of a great internation- 
al struggle for supremacy in the 
New World. The partition of Afri- 
ca in our own day and the strenu- 
ous diplomatic rivalry impending 
from time to time together with the 
late Boer war, enable the enquirer 
of the 20th century to understand 

ore: clearly, by contrast, the prob- 
lem of ascendancy on the continent 

of America, during the 17th and 18th 
centuries. The sequel is even yet cul- 
minating in results fraught with po- 
tential influence to every quarter of 
the globe. From its strategic ad- 
vantages on the Atlantic coast line. 
Nova Scotia held the foreground in 
the theatre of action, every move on 
the chess board of strife, depending 
on its retention. Eventually^ Hali- 
fax, the capital, became the storm 
centre of this vortex of conflict. The 
prize was not only the coast line of 
a hemisphere, from Labrador to the 
Gulf of Mexico, but the vast hinter- 
land in the interior, accessible to the 
Atlantic, north and south, by three 
mighty rivers, and a wondrous chain 
of inland navigable seas in conti- 
guity. Taking the boundaries of 
1763, Nova Scotia comprised the 
whole three Provinces now known 



as the Maritime 
or Atlantic Pro- 
vinces of Canada. 
In the year 1784 
New Brunswick, 
Prince Edward Is- 
land, and Cape 
Breton were de- 
tached owing 
chiefly to a policy 
of panic on the 
part of the British Government 
to restrain consolidation in its re- 
maining possessions in North Ameri- 
ca. In 1820 Cape Breton was re- 
united to Nova Scotia but the seeds 
of the original widely planned sepa- 
ration bore a fruit of disconnected 
interests and retarded progress 
throughout British North America 
for almost a century. The Province 
of Nova Scotia is situated between 
the 61st and 66th degrees of west 
longitude, and the 43rd and 46th 
parallels of north latitude. Its great- 
est length is 380 miles and its breadth 
varies from 40 to 60 miles. In form 
it bears somewhat of a resem- 
blance to the shape of the crustacean 
so freely inhabiting its waters, but 
its topography may be described as 
that of an oblong square. It is sur- 
rounded by the sea, and were it not 
for the twelve mile isthmus of Baie 
Verte would be an island. The 

rrnsi 359 


physical features of the Province 
present a well diversified aspect of 
valley, upland and mountain, pro- 
fusely watered by lakes and rivers 
fringed by a coast line indented with 
excellent harbors, coves and inlets. 
The highest land is in Cape Breton, 
which is almost intersected by Bras 
D'Or Lake, an arm of the sea unique 
in its commercial utility and majes- 
tic grandeur. 

The soil of the Province in gen- 
eral is fertile, ripening most of the 
grains and all the staple fruits and 
vegetables in ordinary use, the An- 
napolis and Cornwallis Valleys en- 
joying a capacity of yield rarely ex- 
celled in the most favored regions. 
The area is 20,600 square miles, the 
population approximates half a mil- 
lion, the exports in round figures are 
$17,000,000 and the imports $13,000.- 
000 according to present day re- 
turns. Since tabulated records have 


N E W 



been supplied by official data (some 
thirty years) the coal production of 
Nova Scotia has been 85,000,000 
tons valued at $130,000,000. Al- 
though the annual coal production 
now exceeds the fishery yield in cash 
value, the great importance of the 
fishery industry and the significance 
attached to its acquisition by the 
earliest colonizers, are confirmed 
and strengthened by such substantial 
results as the addition of some 
8250,000,000 to the wealth of the 
Province from its prosecution, be- 
ginning with the year of Confedera- 
tion down to the current year. The 
gold production has reached about 
$17,000,000 in a similar period, the 
banner year of [902 showing $627,- 
357. 74.000 ions of iron ore were 
raised last year, 274,000 tons of lime- 
stone, and close upon 200,000 tons 
of gypsum. Of coke 368.000 tons 

were produced in 1905, chiefly at the 
extensive plant of the Dominion Iron 
and Steel Company in Sydney, a rap- 
idly advancing sphere of activity 
destined to make it the "Pittsburg 
of the Dominion" in the near future. 
Sir William Fairbairn in his work 
on iron uses the following language: 
"In Nova Scotia some of the richest 


ores yet discovered occur in bound- 
less abundance. The iron manufac- 
tured from them is of the very best 
quality and is equal to the finest 
Swedish metal." "Acadian Geol- 
ogy" has been brilliantly elucidated 
in the standard work of Sir William 
Dawson, which specifies 98 separate 
books, reports and pamphlets as sup- 
plementing the investigations of that 
distinguished authority, Dr. Gilpin. 
F. R. S. C, Chief Inspector of Mines 
for Nova Scotia in a recent report on 
the Mineral Lands of the Province 
says: "The peculiarly diversified na- 
ture of the Nova Scotia minerals 



side of the Cobequid 
Mountains and at points 
from Nictaux to Wolf- 
villc this formation is 
noted for large de- 


may be judged of by 
the fact that it has in 
close relationship the 
three most valuable, 
iron, coal and gold 
The initiation of exten- 
sive iron and steel 
works in directing at- 
tention to its large de- 
posits of ore, and of fuel-yielding 
coke claimed to be the best in- the 
world. Among other minerals more 
or less worked may be mentioned 
lead, zinc, silver, copper, manga- 
nese, gypsum, barytes, etc." 

From data supplied by Mr. Ami 
of the Canadian Geological Survey 
Dr. Gilpin refers to the extent and 
ages of Geological strata as follows: 
"The Laurentian system is well de- 
veloped in Cape Breton, occupying 
the more elevated portions of the is- 
land. The Huronian system is not 
yet recorded as occurring in Nova 
Scotia. The upper and lower Cam- 
brian are represented, the gold-bear- 
ing series consisting of an upper 
slate, a lower quartzite formation 
being also referred to it. Strata 
carrying ores of iron are also re- 
ferred to the upper Cambrian. The 
upper division of Sir R. Murchison's 
Silurian is extensively developed in 
Nova Scotia and along the northern 


posits of iron ore. The Devonian at 
Nictaux and Arisaig and at large 
areas in Cape Breton, Richmond and 
Guysboro counties contains deposits 
of both iron and copper. The car- 
boniferous system is typically repre- 
sented in Nova Scotia in the north- 
ern and eastern counties. The pro- 
ductive horizon is met in the coun- 
ties of Cape Breton, Richmond. In- 
verness, Pictou and Cumberland. 
This is underlaid by strata of mill- 
stone grit, carboniferous limestones 
and lower or basal conglomer- 

"Higher divisions occur along the 
Straits of Northumberland and in 
the interior of Cumberland County 
apparently passing into the Permian. 
The Triassic system is represented 
on the Bay of Fundy and the Basin 
of Minas by beds of bright red sand- 
stone and the Quarternary system 
records the glacial action which this 
province has been subjected to. in 

\ E W 

\ ( 




common wi 

th the rest of the Acadian 

The agricultural and manufactur- 
ing interests of Nova Scotia show 
relatively creditable returns steadily 
progressing by means of the practi- 
cal and technical experience gained, 
from season to season, the para- 
mount necessity for the latter, in 
every department of industrial 
effort, having become a settled con- 
viction among all ranks and condi- 
tions of life. 

The forest yield of the Province 
has always been a prominent factor 
in the development of its natural re- 
sources, over 30 per cent, of the area 
being profit-bearing woodland. In 
the days of wooden ships Nova 
Scotia stood in the front rank of ship 
building and ship owning countries, 
and Nova Scotian vessels and their 
captains enjoyed an enviable reputa- 
tion for efficiency in all the great sea- 
ports of the world. Many of these 
old-time skippers knew their vessels 

from the hour the keelson was laid, 
in fact, the most widely known 
builder on the continent was Donald 
Mackay of Nova Scotia. The ex- 
tensive spruce areas of the Province 
predicate important results, the pro- 
duction of pulp wood and wood pulp, 
a comparatively new industry, as 
suming proportions undreamed of a 
few years a^o. The building: and 


handling of ships becomes second 
nature to the average Bluenose, 
hardly ever beyond 20 or 30 miles 
from the sound of the sea. Natur- 
ally his thoughts and ideas dwell on 
marine enterprise and transportation 
interests generally, looking forward 
to the day when modern steel ship 
building plants will supply the void 
created by the decline of the familiar 
shipyards which bestowed prosperity 
in unstinted measure from Cape 
Sable to Cape North. The light 
houses in Nova Scotia number 212, 
and there are 223 lights on her 
coasts, with 86 buoys, fog alarms 


and other appliances, including a 
light ship, an array of safeguards 
and precautions seldom surpassed 

In this brief review of Nova Scotia 
it may be of interest to hark back 
for a moment to the opinions of one 
or two of the "ancient authorities." 
Charlevoix enthusiastically writes 
thus of Nova Scotia and its sur- 
roundings in 1765. "There are per 
haps no Provinces in the world pos- 
sessing finer harbors, or furnishing 
in greater abundance all the con- 
veniences of life. The climate is 
quite mild and very healthy, and no 
lands have been found that are not 
of surpassing fertility. Finally, no- 
where are there to be seen forests 
more beautiful, or with wood better 
fitted for buildings and masts. There 
are in some places copper mines, and 
in others some of coal. The fish 
most commonly caught on the coast 
are the cod, salmon, mackerel, her- 
ring, sardine, shad, trout, gotte, 

gaparot, barbel, sturgeon, goberge, 
all fish that can be salted and ex- 
ported. Seals, walruses and whales 
are found in great numbers. The 
rivers, too, are full of fresh water 
fish, and the banks teem with count- 
less game." 

A century later Hallock, an Amer- 
ican writer, says: "Herewith I enter 
the lists as the champion of Nova 
Scotia. Were I to give a first class 
certificate of its general character I 
would affirm that it yields a greater 
variety of products for export than 
any territory of the globe of 
the same superficial area. This is 
saying a great deal. Let us see; she 
has ice, lumber, ships, salt-fish, 
salmon and lobsters, coal, iron, gold, 
copper, plaster, slate, grindstones, 
fat cattle, wool, potatoes, apples, 
large game and furs." 

These predictions, contrasted 
with the clear cut statistics of the 
latest Dominion Year Book furnish 
a retrospect that speaks for itself. 



The metropolis of this sea-girt Prov- 
ince is Halifax, so named, four 
months after its settlement in 1749, 
as a compliment to one of its chief 
founders, George Dunk-Montague, 
Earl of Halifax, First Lord of Trade 
and Plantations, a Cabinet officer in 
the days of George II. The aborig- 
inal designation was Chibouctou, a 
Micmac word, signifying "Chief 
haven." Chebucto Head, the bold 
rocky headland at the western en- 
trance of the harbor, familiar to 
many navigators, still retains the 
Indian name. In a sense, Halifax 
was a younger sister to P>oston, 
whose citizens had formed a com- 
mittee advocating its establishment 
to 'heck the encroachments of the 
I rench, although they had thirty 
years previously vetoed a similar 

undertaking submitted by Captain 
Coram. The locality had been fre- 
quently visited by earlier French ex- 
plorers as far back as Champlain's 
time in 163 1. That intrepid leader 
christened it "La Baie Saine" ("The 
Safe Bay") which was the accepted 
French title on their maps and charts 
for upwards of a century. Villebon, 
a Governor at Port Royal under the 
French regime, naively pronounced 
it "one of the finest ports Nature 
could form." The early annals of 
Halifax abound with incidents of 
great historic interest. 

Four years prior to its settlement 
by Cornwallis, Louisburg had fallen 
before the invincible assault of New 
England militiamen, aided by a Brit- 
ish squadron. A halo of sympathy 
encircles the fate of the expedition 



3 r >5 

designed to recapture the 
great stronghold in 1746. 
Dispersed by the contrary 
winds, the shattered rem- 
nants of this once power- 


ful fleet crept into Bedford Basin, 
the inner harbor of Halifax. Round 
its waters lie the unseen graves of 
over a thousand brave soldiers and 
sailors of La Belle France, vic- 
tims of tempest and disease. The 
two admirals in command perished 
in sheer despair, the Due d'Anville 
of apoplexy, D'Estournelle, the vice 
admiral, by his own hand. Two 
years later, and but a year before 
the settlement of Halifax, Louis- 
burg was restored to France, in ex- 
change for Madras, by the treaty 
of Aix la Chapelle. As may well 
be conceived, frequent dissensions 
and occasional ruptures of the 
peace took place between the new 
settlers and the French and In- 

Six years after the settlement of 
Halifax actual war between the two 
great rivals broke out afresh and the 
star of France seemed for a time to 
be in the ascendant, engendering 
covert hostile intrigues among the 
French Neutrals who were, how:ver, 
compelled to evacuate Beausejour. 

Profoundly stirred by the 
disaster on the Monon- 
gahela, the expulsion of 
the Acadians en masse 
was carried out by the 
authorities at Halifax, a 
politico-military episode, 
stern in its necessity, but almost in- 
human in its accomplishment. In a 
more beneficent and enlightened 
age, the sad story has been woven 
into a masterpiece of imperishable 
verse by the most distinguished of 
America's poets. Psalm exxxvii, a 
sacred lyric of patriotic fervor, 
touchingly portrays the readily im- 
agined laments of the Exiles of 
Acadia, a disheartened few of 
whom succeeded in returning to 
their cherished homes, to find them 
occupied by their oppressors. A re- 
cent biographer of William Pitt 
tersely alludes to the sagacity of 
England's great statesman in taking 
full advantage in 1757 of the ports 
of New York and Halifax when both 
were under British control, to re- 
trieve the disasters which misman- 
agement had brought about from the 
time of Braddock's defeat down to 
the triumph of Montcalm at Carillon. 
To offset New York and Halifax 
Louis XV. and his astute Minister 
of War held Louisburg and Quebec. 
Eventually both succumbed to expe- 

-v vr>-- 


ditions organized mainly at Halifax. 
In the final result of the acquisition 
of Canada in 1759 historians are not 
wanting who contend that the for- 
tunes of war in Germany had much 
to do with the momentous course of 
events, although the skilful strategy 
of Wolfe and Amherst were all im- 
portant elements in the outcome. 

A candid estimate of the respec- 
tive value of maritime points of van- 
tage on the coast line of North 
America can but lead to the conclu- 
sion that in the peaceful pursuit of 
the paths of commerce New York 
and Halifax are still as supreme in 
their geographical convenience as in 
the days when Pitt utilized them so 
conspicuously for the honor and 
glory of Great Britain. Under the 
Fostering care of a generous mother- 
land, which lavished upwards of $2,- 
000,000 on its support, during its 
first seven years of existence, Hali- 

fax at once rose into prominence as 
an extensive shipping centre, and for 
a lengthy period its progress was 
inseparably associated with British 
military and naval interests. More- 
over great commercial advantages 
had been suggested by the people of 
Massachusetts as likely to resul: 
from the establishment of a favor- 
ably located central harbor on the 
Atlantic coast line. This forecast 
proved a correct one. The disman- 
tling of Louisburg, the "Dunkirk of 
America," and the transfer of its gar- 
rison, munitions and materials to 
Halifax undoubtedly made for the 
advancement of the latter. It was 
unfortunately the fashion in those old 
days to depreciate the status of the 
colonial forces by both the British 
and French regular army officers, 
and many ill founded prejudices ex- 
isted with reference to the severity 
of the climate, and dearth of re- 



sources in the more northerly sec- 
tion of the American plantations. 
The French apparently were more 
imbued with hope than the English, 
whose abandonment of Louisburg 
in consequence of the pessimism of 
Admiral Warren was the cause of 
great dissatisfaction in New England 
where such heroic and self-denying 
sacrifices had been made to ensure 
its first capture. Continuous war- 
fare effectively stimulated transpor- 
tation developments at Halifax and 
a large trade sprang up between the 
ports of sister colonies to the north 
as well as the south. Letters of 
marque were constantly on the wing, 
and wealth accumulated rapidly dur- 
ing the Napoleonic wars. With 
peace came a reaction of activity and 
some lean business years ensued. 
The town, however, was now fairly 
on its feet, and the fishery industry 
which had been the leading feature 

of the Whitehall advertisement in- 
viting the original settlers was more 
vigorously undertaken, and a large 
and lucrative trade with the West 
Indies and the Spanish main pro- 

The first bank was opened in 1825 
and ere long world-wide ventures 
were enterprised, tea began to be im- 
ported direct from China, whaling 
voyages to the South Seas were 
prosecuted, and ship building eager- 
ly engaged in not only at Halifax 
and Dartmouth, but at the head of 
the harbor in Bedford as well. 

Halifax was one of the very 
earliest in the field to establish 
steam communication with Europe, 
the arrival of R. M. S. Britannia in 
July, 1840, at the Cunard pier, being 
the inauguration of the now famous 
Cunard Line. The first railway was 
operated at Albion Mines in 1830 
and soon a more ambitious project 



began to be agitated. In 1854 
Joseph Howe turned the first sod of 
the Nova Scotia Railway, now 
known as the I. C. R., or People's 
Road, which, with its connections, 
constitutes a leading link in an im- 
perial chain of communication, from 
the Atlantic to the Pacific, as de- 
signed by the idol of the populace, 
its Haligonian champion. 

In a consideration of Halifax from 
the modern view point, the superla- 
tive advantages of its spacious 
harbor emphasize its commercial 
importance in a marked degree. 
Descriptions hardly do justice to 
Halifax harbor; it needs to be seen. 
Sixteen miles long, one to two miles 
wide, eight to twelve fathoms deep, 
twenty square miles in extent includ- 
ing Bedford Basin, the highest 
marine authorities have pronounced 
it "one of the finest and safest deep 
water harbors in the world." Mc- 
Nab's Island, three miles long, af- 
fords perfect shelter and the shore 
line taking in the Eastern Passage 

and the Northwest Arm covers be- 
tween forty and fifty miles. 

The Eastern passage interests 
United States' visitors in recalling 
the escape of the Confederate steam- 
er Tallahasee from the clutches 
of a Federal squadron on the watch 
in the outer roadstead during the 
War of Secession. The entrance 
from the sea is five and one-half 
miles wide, and the fairway from 
Chebucto Head, within an hour -of 
the city piers, is clear and free from 
obstruction or delay. The Quaran- 
tine Station at Lawlor's Island is be- 
yond criticism, ideal in every respect. 
The development of the ■ giant- 
freighter and the colossal passenger 
liner of 20,000 to 30,000 tons, but en- 
hances the capacity of Halifax 
Harbor, instantaneously available, at 
any state of the tide, and at any hour 
of the day or night. A haven it is. 
in very sooth, for the limp grey- 
hound of the Atlantic after a tussle 
with mountain seas in rough 
weather. Ah! only to reach Halifax, 



with its massive dry dock, and its 
wealth of appliances for repair has 
often been the fervent if unuttered 
-prayer of hope for weary storm- 
tossed commanders bowed down 
with the responsibility of hundreds 
of lives and thousands upon thou- 
sands of valuable cargo. At a certain 
transit position on the Western 
Ocean, Halifax is the nearest and 
most easily accessible port for 
-either eastward or westward bound 
lonnage, its convenience as a bunk- 
er port, from even extreme south- 
ern points of the continent of 
America, having been thoroughly 

The shore ends of two ocean cables 
are located at Halifax in addition to 
other leading cable and telegraphic 
facilities in direct communication 
with every port in the civilized 
globe. Wireless installations at 
Camperdown, just outside the city, 
in constant touch with Sable Island, 
place Halifax in the role of a veri- 
table sentinel of the North Atlantic 

in the transmission of marine intelli- 
gence. There are 46 piers and 
wharves along the four mile water 
front, nine of which are efficiently 
equipped under Government control 
to accommodate the largest steam- 
ers afloat. These up-to-date ar- 
rangements can be duplicated on the 
Dartmouth side where several 
equally commodious piers are al- 
ready in evidence and projected. 
The railway terminal facilities are 
constantly being augmented, year 
by year, and live citizens look for- 
ward to the day when the "whistle of 
the Hong Kong train" will sound at 
every pier on the water front along 
its entire length. 

Four lines of railway arrive and 
depart daily, soon to be followed by 
a fifth, and on the completion of the 
National Transcontinental, a sixth, 
on three of which passengers will be 
able to book for the Pacific. About 
20 lines of steamers utilize the port 
on regular schedules in summer, and 
in the winter half a dozen other lines 



besides. The latest additions are di- 
rect lines to Mexico, South Africa 
and France. The arrivals and depart- 
ures, foreign and coastwise, have 
averaged about 10,000 to 11,000 in 
recent years, with an aggregate ton- 
nage of three millions. With the 
exception of Japan and China the 
flag of almost every nation in the 
world may be seen at one time or an- 
other during a given year in the 
harbor. In the matter of commer- 
cial intercourse with the Antipodes, 
the commercial agent of Canada at 
Sydney, New South Wales, has ad- 
vised the Department of Trade and 
Commerce at Ottawa that ocean 
transit (especially for Canadian man- 
ufactured goods) between Canada, 
Australia and New Zealand is more 
desirable via the Atlantic than by 
the Pacific. The exports of Halifax 
from the latest annual returns ap- 
proximate $9,000,000; fish leading 
with close upon $4,000,000, agricul- 

tural products and animals about 
$3,000,000, lumber rather under the 
normal average of $1,000,000 and 
manufactures rather over three- 
fourths of a million. Apple ship- 
ments footed up 370,000 barrels, 
potatoes 527,000 bushels. 

The chief items in the imports are 
sugar and molasses which figure 
rather over $3,000,000. 432,000 bar- 
rels of flour were received during the 
past year and 440 cars of oats. The 
valuation for Civic Assessment for 
1904-05 was not quite $27,000,000 
and the rate $1.69 per $100. The 
Civic Debt including Water Debt 
is slightly over $3,000,000. The 
enumerators for McAlpine's City 
Directory, record 17,295 individual 
names, which multiplied by three, 
places the estimated number of in- 
habitants for the current intercensal 
period since 1901 at 51,885. Includ- 
ing Dartmouth and the garrison 
now composed of Canadian citizens, 



the total population is understood to 
be about 60,000. The administration 
of the affairs of the City of Halifax is 
in the hands of a Mayor and Cor- 
poration consisting of 18 aldermen, 
representing six wards. A conven- 
tion of the mayors and representa- 
tives of Canadian cities and munici- 
palities was held at Halifax in Au- 
gust for mutual counsel and delib- 
eration. Several of the visitors cov- 
ered between 5,000 and 6,000 miles 
to attend, giving some idea of the 
importance of the gathering. A 
handsome device over the vestibule 
of the City Hall, electrically illumi- 
nated at night, bore the words, 
"Municipal Home Rule" — Our 
Motto — "Welcome." Among other 
lavish entertainments by the citizens, 
a complete circuit was made of the 
harbor and all its inlets by the Gov- 
ernment S. S. "Aberdeen," winding 

up with an aquatic pageant of illu- 
minated boats and canoes on the 
Northwest Arm. The fairy-like 
scene made a vivid impression on 
the visiting mayors and representa- 

The prevailing problem of munici- 
pal ownership and operation of pub- 
lic utilities is being threshed out 
in Halifax with a vigor and determi- 
nation equal to that of any city on 
the continent. The water supply of 
the city is the only franchise entirely 
owned and controlled by its inhab- 
itants. The service is far and away 
beyond the average in efficiency, 
both for household use and fire pro- 
tection, while the rate of four dollars 
is one of the most moderate on 
record. Meantime the department 
pays all running expenses and is 
gradually extinguishing the water 
debt, which is about one-third of the 

?7 T 


gross city obligations. In compar- 
ing a long established community in 
the East, with the inception of an 
entirely new one in the West, it is 
obvious that the later arrival is alto- 
gether free from old barnacles to 
progress and time-worn prejudices, 
and ready to adopt up-to-date meth- 
ods without hindrance to the body 
politic. The fire department of 
Halifax ranks deservedly high, as 
the fire record of many years of 
more than average immunity fairly 
demonstrates. The legislature pro- 
vided nearly $60,000 for additions to 
its equipment during the last two 
sessions. The police force evoked 
well merited encomiums for its per- 
sonnel, discipline and management 
from members of the Canadian Mu- 
nicipal 1 union during their investiga- 
tions. In proportion to its popula- 
tion, Halifax has an unusually large 
street mileage, considerably over 
[00 miles. For street improvements. 
pavements and sewerage, no less 
than $200,000 is being judiciously ex- 

pended, so that the city gives prom- 
ise of being a model one in this re- 
spect in a comparatively brief period. 

The Halifax Board of Trade is 
one of the most progressive "parlia- 
ments of business" in the Dominion 
of Canada, with substantially fur- 
nished quarters in the heart of the 
commercial district. 

The Halifax Electric Tram Com- 
pany operates an up-to-date service 
by a main line closely connecting 
with a belt line, covering all the lead- 
ing thoroughfares. The H. E. T. 
Co. also provides electric light and 
power, together with gas for the 
whole city. Financially the credit of 
Halifax may be judged from the fact 
that its last issue of 4 per cent, bonds 
resulted in an acceptable civic ''nest 
c^iy" over and above par. 

Halifax has six chartered banks, 
three being local institutions with a 
paid up capital of $7,^00.000 and 
reserve of $9,343,752. The paid up 
capital and reserve of the three out- 
side banks is $46,100,000. The agen- 




cies of the home banks spread out 
like a fan in all directions, from the 
distant Yukon to Mexico, Cuba, the 
West Indies and other points near 
the Equator. One of the outside Ca- 
nadian banks has 137 branches 
throughout the Dominion in addi- 
tion to branches at London (Eng- 
land), New York, San Francisco, 
Portland (Oregon), Seattle and 
Skagway in the United States. 
There are also several private bank- 
ing houses, trust and loan com- 
panies, etc. The bank clearings in 
1904 were over $90,000,000 at Hali- 

The industries of Halifax stand 
eighth in the list of Canadian cities 
on the testimony of U. S. Consul 
General Holloway. The fishery- in- 
dustry naturally heads the proces- 
sion. The foremost mercantile en- 
terprise is also distinctly maritime — 
the dry dock, one of the largest and 
most thoroughly equipped on the 

The mineral industry of the whole 
Province naturally converges at the 
capital, for a material share of its 
management and distribution. In 
domestic, manufactures clothing, 
paint and lead, boots and shoes, flour 
mills, biscuit and confectionery, 
spices, powder and explosive mills, 
iron foundries, stove works, brushes 
and brooms are all represented on a 
more or less extensive scale. The 
question of new industries is a burn- 
ing one in the city of Halifax at the 
present moment and prominent citi- 
zens in conjunction with the City 
Council and the Board of Trade 
are engaged in persistent efforts to 
utilize the manifold advantages o[ ac- . 
cessible raw materials and excep- 
tional transportation facilities in- 
wards and outwards at their verv 

doors, for distribution to near by 
home markets. Newfoundland, 

Great Britain, the United States, 
West Indies and Mexico, with Eu- 
ropean, South African and Aus- 
tralasian outlets as an ultimate field 
for expansion. 

The public buildings and scenic at- 
tractions of Halifax city are so am- 
ply set forth in a plethora of illustrat- 
ed tourist guide books that detailed 
descriptions would be but "a twice 
told tale." The Province Building in 
the centre of the city, Government 
House, the New Custom House, 
Post Office, Victoria Hospital. Blind 
School, Dalhousie College, City 
Hall, Deaf and Dumb Institution, In- 
firmary, Eudist Seminary, Convent 
of the Sacred Heart, Mount St. Vin- 
cent, Academy of Music and others 
in addition to thirty-nine churches, 
twenty-six public schools and eigh- 
teen charitable institutions consti- 
tute a group of which any city, an- 
cient or modern, might well be 
proud. Many of the places of wor- 
ship are of deep historical interest, 
notably old St. Paul's, the Round 
Church and the quaint little Dutch 
Church with its chicken-cock spire. 
The Round Church, Town Clock, 
and Prince's Lodge are cherished re- 
minders of "ye olden time" wlien 
Prince Edward, Duke of Kent, 
grandfather of King Edward VII. 
lived and moved and had his being 
for several years in Halifax as Com- 
mander-in-chief of the troops in gar- 
rison at the beginning of the last cen- 
tury. The Public Gardens and Point 
Pleasant Park exhibit so many points 
of picturesque beauty and artisti : 
taste as to elicit unstinted apprecia- 
tion from the most exacting critics. 
Old St. Paul's Burying Ground is an 
object of great historic interest as the 



resting place of early dignitaries and 
officials in pre-revOlutionary times. 
It also contains the Welsford and 
Parker Monument, one of the most 
imposing military memorials in the 
Dominion. Fort Massey, the Naval 
Cemetery and the Little Dutch Burial 
Place are ancient cities of the dead, 
replete with associations of the past. 
A noble life-like statue of Hon. 
Joseph Howe, Nova Scotia's most 
distinguished son. adorns the south- 
ern area of the Province Building 
grounds. It is also proposed to erect 
a statue of another eminent citizen, 
Sir Samuel Cunard, at Greenbank. 
Among others who have left endur- 
ing fame as a just inheritance, Hon. 
J. W. Johnstone, Sir William Young, 
Chief Justice Halliburton, Sir Fen- 
wick Williams of Kars and Sir John 
Inglis, the defender of Lucknow, will 
also doubtless have their memories 
honored at no distant day. A Boer 
War Statue at the northern area of 
the Province Building and another in 
the Public Gardens, with the Victoria 
Jubilee Fountain Memorial at the 
same place, are sacred objects of re- 
gard fittingly decorated on anniver- 
saries and special occasions. 

There are numerous libraries, in- 
cluding the Citizens' Free Library 
in the City Hall. The hotels are 
over fifty in number in addition to 
restaurants and apartment houses 
in desirable residential sections. 
The Halifax, Queen and King Ed- 
ward are among the largest hotels. 
The Waverley has long been a pro- 
nounced favorite with Americans, 
owing to its excellence of manage- 
ment, home comforts and agreeable 

The city has two up-to-date clubs, 
'.legantly appointed in substantial 
buildings, a Yacht Squadron Club- 

house and grounds, four good row- 
ing clubs, housed and equipped on 
modern lines, Wanderers and other 
amateur athletic associations, Stud- 
lev Quoit Club of international re- 
pute, besides numerous other organ- 
izations for recreation in a high 
state of efficiency. The speed track 
at the Exhibition Grounds is admit- 
ted to be one of the best in Canada. 
To appreciate the scenic attrac- 
tions of Plalifax, a drive or walk 
around the ramparts of the Citadel 
affords the most comprehensive 
view. There are few more charm- 
ing landscapes in any part of the 
world than the panorama of sea, 
sky and land in sight from vantage 
points on the road and foot path en- 
circling the moat of Fort George on 
a summer day. The coup d'oeil 
changes like a kaleidoscope of Na- 
ture every few yards, here the whole 
city at a glance with its church 
spires and loftiest buildings inter- 
spersed with foliage, there in the 
foreground the wide expanse of the 
harbor, with a cruiser squadron 
swinging at anchor, Bedford Basin 
on the one hand, the Eastern Pass- 
age on the other like a silver thread, 
anon the grassy slopes and lux- 
uriant miniature forest of McNab's 
Island, and in the distant perspec- 
tive a clear, full view of Dartmouth 
with a glimpse of the First Lake. 
York Redoubt too, to rivet the eye- 
feast, with its picturesque winding 1 
road, capped by a generous stretch 
of the broad Atlantic in the farther 
beyond. The western circumference 
of the Citadel roadway gives a far 
reaching bird's eye view of the Pub- 
lic Gardens, Camp Hill Cemetery, 
the North West environs, the Ex- 
hibition Buildings and in the dis- 
tance, undulating hills and tree- 



clad heights, clothed with the smil- 
ing farms and cottages of the Dutch 
village. The approach by sea sup- 
plies a succession of marine views 
almost as striking and proves an 
unfailing source of admiration to 
visitors. Dryden's version of Virgil 
typifies the site of old Chebucto all 
-down the centuries. 

"Within a long recess there lies a Bay, 
An island shades it from the rolling sea 
And forms a Port secure for ships to ride, 
Broke by the jutting land on either side." 

In addition to its physical beauty 
Halifax Harbor is a grand com- 
mercial asset not only for its resi- 
dents, but for the Province and the 
whole Dominion as well. A great 
change has taken place in Halifax 
during the present year in the 
transfer of its extensive fortifica- 
tions by the British Government to 
the Dominion authorities at Ottawa. 
The garrison is now manned en- 
tirely by the Canadian Permanent 
Army Corps, a few officers of the 
Imperial forces remaining for pur- 
poses of instruction. The British 
drum beat, which has been a fa- 
miliar sound for 157 years has 
ceased, the Canadian Department of 
Militia and Defence taking full 
charge. The conditions of the 
transfer are not definitely known to 
the man on the street, but it is gen- 
erally surmised that something more 
or less in the nature of a trusteeship 

governs the situation. Hopes are 
entertained in many quarters that 
the withdrawal of the over sea mili- 
tary element will eventually have a 
salutary effect in developing a more 
self-relying and go-ahead spirit. 
Varying opinions exist on this point 
as the associations of social inter- 
course which became part and par- 
cel of the daily life for a century 
and a half have naturally brought 
about a community of interest not 
only with the officers of the many 
distinguished regiments serving on 
the station, but also with the rank 
and file. Rarely has a battalion left 
the city without a number of its 
members having secured life part- 
ners from among the fair daughters 
of Acadia, so that it will be consid- 
erable time before interest in the 
personnel of the British Army 
diminishes in many family circles 
high and low. That the traditions 
of the Imperial Service will be fully 
maintained by their Canadian breth- 
ren in arms may be taken as a fore- 
gone conclusion. 

With its guardians native to the 
soil, the well-known quotation from 
Bishop Berkeley's ode "Westward 
the course of Empire takes its way" 
will have for the young Dominion a 
wider significance beyond the West 
through a chain of communication 
from Halifax to Vancouver — twin 
gateways of twin seas. 

Editor's Table 

The twentieth century child has number- 
less good things. Electric toys and mar- 
velous mechanical devices which would 
have tilled his forebears with mute aston- 
ishment. Things mental, moral and physi- 
cal are carefully combined for him and are 
then meted out in a harmonious mixture 
at pleasing intervals. He has a grapho- 
phone to play with, a telephone on which 
to summon his playmates to his side, a 
motor-car to whisk him off to school, and 
an electric button to press if he wants 
anything not just at hand. His life is 
very full of work and play, variety and 
interest, travel and study. No other child 
in all the world was ever launched into the 
game of life with such magnificent equip- 
ment. All the accumulated facts of the 
preceding generations are his to conjure 
with, and he is trained athletically, fed 
hygienically and finally dropped into the 
arena in tip-top fighting trim. 

Yet there is one great loss which this 
twentieth century production has certainly 
sustained; something which was an indis- 
pensable possession to children "once upon 
a time." It is so grave a loss that one is 
forced to question if the mechanical de- 
vices, electric buttons and even the hy- 
gienic diet are compensation for the sad 
deficit. In short the up-to-date and well 
provided for youthful inhabitant has lost 
a Grandmother and this great deprivation 
cannot be counterbalanced by a whole car- 
load of most ingenious inventions. 

What has become of her, that dear pos- 
session of the children of not so very long 
ago? She was wont to be found in every 
household, serene and smiling, ready to 
sympathize with little children, ready to 
champion their cause against the stern 
parental rule, ready to (best of all), ready 
to spoil them. 

She was possessed of a most enviable 
tranquility and there was something calm 
and very soothing about her presence. Her 
dress was always simple, sometimes severe, 
but it became her charmingly and was in 
its neat and refined simplicity just the 
dress one would choose instinctively as 
suitable for a Grandmother. 

There was the dainty muslin cap, the 
bit of real lace at the throat and some- 
thing in a beautiful old-fashioned breast- 
pin that was particularly characteristic of 
a real Grandmother. The breastpin varied 
in shape and size, as did the cap, and there 
was the best pin, the second best pin, and 
Ias1 but not least, the every flay pin, oval 

and showing through its clear glass sur- 
face a wonderful design in hair braided' 
and twisted skilfully by Grandmother her- 

Grandmother was the personage to- 
come to for sympathy, advice and for a 
wealth of old-time memories. When vari- 
ous household matters were unduly dis- 
turbing and practical affairs were griev- 
ously harassing there was one peaceful' 
spot, a small serene oasis untouched by 
minor worries, Grandmother's room. 

Here she sat with her knitting or with 
a wonderful assortment of many colored 
patchwork pieces, her books and her smil- 
ing serenity. In her small kingdom there 
was a secure refuge from petty practical 
considerations, and as one crossed the 
threshold a sense of peace ineffable seemed 
to pervade the atmosphere. Yet Grand- 
mother possessed the keenest interest in 
every trifling circumstance which had to 
do with those about her, and there was 
never an audience that gave such unflag- 
ging attention or listened with such genu- 
ine appreciation to the recital of any tiny 
woe or trivial circumstance as did this 
dear, peaceful old lady. 

When she assumed her kerchief and her 
cap, Grandmother cheerfully exchanged 
her active part in the great worldly strug- 
gle for a quiet and passive helpfulness in- 
side of the home boundaries. She was a 
warmly interested spectator of strenuous 
outward things; a fireside ornament; a 
lovely inspiration. 

Where is she now? What has become 
of the twentieth century child's Grand- 

Alas, there now is no such person, but 
in her place you may observe "mamma's 
mamma." She is a dressy individual, even 
more dressy than mamma. Her hats are 
of the latest style (she scorns the anti- 
quated bonnet) and assumes something 
"chic," a "Gainsborough" or a "picture 
hat" with trailing flowers or waving 
plumes. Her hair is waved precisely in 
the style adopted by her granddaughter 
and is done up in strict accordance with 
the latest fashion plates. She sallies forth 
to clubs and entertainments until her fail- 
ing strength enforces rest, then she con- 
scientiously recuperates and calls in medi- 
cal advice. 

"Mamma's mamma" has a masseur to 
preserve her complexion, and part of every 
day is spent in the endeavor to obliterate 
all wrinkles. Her dressmaker is a tre- 


T A B L E 


mendously important factor in her daily 
life and uses all her skill to preserve for 
'"mamma's mamma" her proper girlish 
figure. And as for caps and kerchiefs, 
she would grow very indignant at the 
thought of them. 

Her calling list is longer than mamma's 
and she is more punctillious about social 
conventions, and deplores the increasing 
laxity in modern manners. When she 
was young or rather "younger" than she 
is to-day, there was an homage paid to 
her "mamma's mamma" which she looks 
for in vain in these degenerate times. 

She reads the magazines and all the re- 
cent fiction and her days are so full of her 
activities that there is never time for her 
to read aloud to mamma's little girls those 
foolish old-time tales which the lost 
Grandmother always had ready in one 
especial bookshelf, awaiting the incoming 
of her small visitors. 

"Mamma's mamma" is still a . worker, 
or shall I say a meddler, in the affairs of 
the community, and she follows with in- 
terest the "woman's movement," the "tem- 
perance cause," the efforts to "restrict 
immigration" and to "clean up the slums," 
and all these weighty considerations ab- 
sorb her waning strength leaving her no 
time to devote to minor home considera- 
tions. When mamma's children grow too 
boisterous "mamma's mamma" sends in 
her maid to ask them not to be "so noisy 
and ill-bred," and they are cautioned "not 

to be intrusive" or to "burst into her 
room" without special permission. 

When she is dressed and rested and has 
not an immediate engagement pending, 
she sometimes sends her maid into the 
nursery to fetch her daughter's children, 
and then, when they are seated she asks 
them all about their studies and looks to 
see if their clothes are the kind that she 
suggested mamma should buy for them. 
After that she brings out a new and shiny 
game of authors and says that they may 
come and play it any time that she is at 
leisure to see them, but she would like 
to have them first learn all the authors' 
names. Then, after a few minutes she 
glances at the clock and says, "My dears, 
I must join your mamma at tea, for it is 
five and we are just expecting a half 
dozen ladies in to talk about the proper 
way to educate the> children of the day. 
Tommy, my boy, do you see that your 
heavy shoe is resting upon my green plush 
sofa, remove it if you please, you know 
mamma is most particular about your 
manners in the drawing room and cer- 
tainly she would expect you to be no less 
careful in the room of 'mamma's mamma.' 
Now run away, but when you want to, 
come into my room, you know I dearly 
love to see you, whenever I can do so." 

But strange to say the children one and 
all, never of their free will, seek for ad- 
mission to the artistically appointed room 
where dwells "mamma's mamma." 

Caroline Ticknos_ 


To return to the matter of Wolfe's one 
immortal poem, the little flurry caused by 
an accusation of plagiarism was at once 
effectually disproved and downed and he 
now stands forth serene and strong to go 
on and on with his own poem in his hand, 
along with Gray and his Elegy under his 
arm. Strange that I. who studied and ad- 
mired the writings of "Father Prout" long 
ago and lectured about the witty Irish 
priest, should have forgotten that he made 
a translation of "The Burial of Sir John 
Moore," entitled "Les Funerailles de 
Beaumanoir." a clever French rendering, 
and published it in the first issue of Bent- 
ley's Miscellany. And then raised the 
'inestion about its French origin! 

As the Argonaut says, "To any one who 
is familiar with the life and writings of 
Francis Mahony, the mere appearance of 
his name as asking a question which was 
answered by "Father Prout," is in itself 
auspicious, proving the French version was 
obviously a jeu d' esprit in that clerical 
wag's usual manner. 

And in the "Dictionary of Biography," 
there is a direct statement that "Father 
Prout made the version in order to ac- 
i use the Rev. Mr. Wolfe of having stolen 
it !" You remember that was a favorite 
joke with him. Tie tried to prove that 
Moore's Melodies were also plagiarized 
from the French and that "The Groves 
'.f Blarney" was stolen from the Greek. 
! he Preface to his Roman Correspond- 
ence he assumed to be written by one 
Jeremy Savonarola, a Benedictine monk, 
a descendant of the great Florentine re- 
former, and as a political satire it equalled 
'' : nilar efforts of Swift. 


He was daintier in his literary fooling, 
than the caustic Dean, who chose to make 
English the original language, as was 
shown by proper names : The Greek Come- 
dian, Aristophanes, he explained was so 
called because he had a lot of "Airy stuff 
in his" writings. 

Alexander the Great was fond of roast- 
ed eggs and when his menials heard hina 
returning for a meal, one would cry out, 
"All eggs under the grate." 

Moses, so named, because he mowed 
the seas down for the Israelites to cross. 
All rather heavy and forced and I much 
prefer the inimitable playfulness and 
learning combined, of "the bright and 
penetrating little Irishman, half-priest, 
half man of the world, the tolerant looker- 
on, and accomplished scholar." 

It is not exactly exhilarating to ponder 
over books for weeks and at last be 
obliged to confess inability to grasp intel- 
ligently their subject matter. 

But metaphysics are beyond my mental 
limit. And by the way, has anything ab- 
solutely definite and indisputable been 
gained by all this laborious inspection of 
the workings of the mind? An alienist 
once told me that the brains of the insane 
were after death carefully studied and 
sliced, as housewives slice ham, to try to 
get at some positive rules regarding mental 
maladies as revealed by the knife: but, 
he said no progress had been made. 

Criminal men and bad boys can be 
changed into noble characters, they claim, 
by relieving the pressure on certain parts 
of the brain ; but insanity is as yet beyond 
their power to cure. 

T have been tussling with two slender 



volumes by Prof. Hugo Munsterberg of 
Harvard. I read the latest of these first 
"Science and Idealism," and realized that 
in his opinion, "Science falls asunder if 
we disbelieve in absolute ideals." But 
why, I fail to see. 

Again, he says, "If we transcend the 
outer world by our convictions, we come 
to God; if we transcend the social world, 
we come to immortality; if we transcend 
our inner sphere and link it with religious 
convictions, we come to the belief in provi- 
dential leadings." How can one come to 
immortality by transcending the "social" 
world ? And does the humble and unedu- 
cated woman who firmly believes she is 
guided by the Lord, "transcend her inner 
sphere," whatever that may mean ? 

I read carefully the reviews of this 
book by presumably wise and superior 
men and noticed that their quoting was 
extensive and their remarks mostly para- 
phrased the author's own words. 

He says, "Every one of us lives in a 
chaos of experience. But by a fundamen- 
tal act of our over-individual personali- 
ties, we transcend the chaos ; we become 
intelligent subjects by creating the idea of 
a world which is common to us." This I 
suppose is to make a world for ourselves 
out of our own experience. And we 
"must apperceive every bit of the chaos 
as something which must will to . be it- 

This I guess, means that e^ch individual 
must be in full harmony with the will of 
the universe. But I get no comfort from 
the book. I sent for "The Eternal Life" 
by the same writer, hoping in that to find 
what seemed missing in the first, but it is 
more depressing and mystifying. 

Returning with a companion from the 
funeral of a dear friend, the author talks 
straight through the book ; at the outset 
affirming that he is neither skeptic nor 
atheist and he does believe in eternal life. 
But at the end of his long monologue he 
says to the silent and possibly wearied 
mourner, "In eternity lies the reality of 
our friend, who will never sit with us 
here again at the fireplace. I do not 
think that I should love him better if I 
hoped that he might be somewhere wait- 
ing through space and time to meet us 
again. I feel that I should then take his 
existence in the space-time world as the 
real meaning of h : s life, and thus deprive 
"his noble personality of every value and 
of every ideal meaning. 

"You and I do not know a reality of 
which he is not in eternity a noble part; 
the passing of time cannot make his per- 
personality unreal, and nothing would be 
added to his immortal value if some ob- 
ject like him were to enter the sphere 

of time again. The man whom we love 
belongs to a world in which there is no 
past and future, but an eternal now. He 
is linked to it l»y the will of you, of me, 
of all whose will has been influenced by 
his will, and he is bound to it by his re- 
spect for absolute values." 

"I do not long for that repulsive, intol- 
erable endlessness which we should have 
to share with those ashes in the fireplace. 
They arc in time, and can never escape 
the tracks of time, and however long they 
may last, there will be endless time still 
ahead of them. We are beyond time; our 
hope and our strife is eternally completed 
in the timeless system of wills, and if I 
mourn for our friend, I grieve, not be- 
cause his personality has become unreal 
like an event in time, but because his per- 
sonality as it belongs eternally to our 
world aims at a fuller realization of its 
intentions, at a richer influence on his 

"This contrast between what is aimed 
at in our attitude and what is reached in 
our influence is indeed full of pathos, and 
yet inexhaustible in its eternal value." 

"And finally, through these pathetic 
contrasts between aims and influences we 
enter as parts into the absolute reality; 
not for calendar years and not for in- 
numerable aeons, but for timeless etern- 
ity ;" I can only hope that no such vague, 
sad and shadowy logic may ever be 
preached to me when just returned from 
the burial of a dear one. And I dare to 
wonder how this one man has learned all 
this; and if he has been vouchsafed a 
special delivery message from the Al- 

I would rather be ashes that had lately 
glowed and gladdened a home circle and 
might in future enrich an apple tree, add- 
ing to the loveliness of its blossoms, than 
to exist only in the pathetic personality 
which was ever lamenting a lack of 
achievement in life's aims. 

As I see it, there is a lot of solemn 
rubbish written about the life or no life 
of the soul after what we call Death, and 
I prefer to cling with cheerful confidence 
to the fourteenth chapter of St. John. 

Both of these books are from Hough- 
ton, Mifflin & Company, Boston. 

Prof. Joseph Jastrow, in charge of the 
department of Psychology in the Univers- 
ity of Wisconsin, well known as an ac- 
complished scholar and metaphysician, has 
recently sent out as the result of years 
of careful study, a volume on "The Sub- 
conscious" about which so much has been 
written of late, making it responsible for 
almost any mental experiences difficult to 
otherwise explain. 

He tells us that "The word subcon- 



scious has a dubious sound; and those to 
whom it brings slight illumination asso- 
ciate it with questionable phenomena. It 
should be a homely term ; and its place is 
close to the hearth of our psychological 
interests." And he undertakes to give a 
more precise comprehension of those man- 
ifestations of consciousness and of those 
varieties of its activities, that take place 
below the threshold of our fully waking 
minds : those subconscious products of 
our intelligence wrought as Dr. Holmes 
put it. in the underground workshop of 

The first chapter treats of ''The Func- 
tion of Consciousness" and alludes to the 
frequently repeated routine activities, 
which come by habit to be semi-automatic 
mechanisms; as eating at a dinner party 
while enjoying the wit of our neighbor 
and giving an apt repartee. Such func- 
tions as respiration or the beat of the 
pulse, swallowing, yawning, coughing al- 
though influenced by different tempera- 
ments are mostly ministered to by the 
lower centres, with but little demand upon 

And we may do something easily with- 
out thinking, where a strenuous effort 
would fail ; as a young lady learning to 
ride a bicycle, tried vainly to guide the 
machine with but one hand on the handle 
bar but her hair being disarranged she at 
once put back an escaping hairpin, with 
no loss of equilibrium. And here the au- 
thor tells us that a certain style of neck- 
tie he wears but occasionally, he can man- 
age successfully only when he does not 
think about it. 

I am especially interested in the chapter 
on "The Mechanism of Consciousness." 
He quotes Mr. Galton as speaking of a 
chamber of consciousness and an ante- 
chamber ; in the presence chamber full 
consciousness holds court but the ideas 
that throng in the ante-chamber are fully 
beyond control. 

Stevenson thought that he was aided in 
waking and sleeping dreams by Brownies, 
which Prof. Jastrow considers is his name 
for the subconscious contributions to his 

He says that Dr. Holmes realized that 
the inspiring source of subconscious 
thought is really the conscious grinding 

And yet T remember that Dr. Holmes 
said, "A poet was known to be one who 
was sometimes rapt out of himself into the 
region of the Divine: that the spirit had 
descended upon him and taught him what 
hf- should speak." 

The late Dr. Osgood Mason paid this 
tribute to the subconscious. "The ad- 
vanced men and women of all time past ; 

the leaders, the discoverers, the people 
who have set milestones along the way of 
human progress; in short the men of 
genius were all intuitional men whose sub- 
conscious minds were in subtle communi- 
cation with nature with its truth, its 
beauty, its harmony; who were attentive 
to the suggestions which came to them, 
they knew not whence: like Schiller, who 
when he wrote, wondered whence his 
thoughts came, for they flowed through 
him, independent of the actions of his 
own mind." 

If the marvellous achievements of 
genius are due solely to this underground 
workshop, the subject grows hopelessly 
mysterious to me. I have collected 
enough material for a large book on the 
other idea ; that inspiration is something 
outside of our own mind or subliminal 
self, or automatic grinding, and it is cer- 
tain that those who have achieved the 
greatest triumphs in all literature, music, 
art, sculpture, the drama, have felt sure 
that they were aided, aye, commanded to 
write or compose music, or paint, and so 
on, by an unknown power that controlled 
them for a time and then vanished. Ten- 
nyson, who was not only clairvoyant but 
clairaudient wrote his best poetry in a 
trance condition, and he and all the others 
said but one thing, "I did not do this." 

Mr. Jastrow takes up one by ore all the 
phases of this interesting below the thres- 
hold _ business, and thinks all the singular 
conditions called supernatural, occult, and 
psychical enigmas can be easily explained 
by abnormal subconsciousness. 

I do not know enough to differ with 
him and thank him for having given us 
such a valuable presentation of an en- 
grossing theme. 

I wish he could have used a simpler 
style in writing for popular comprehen- 
sion ; such sespequidalian words cannot be 
understood by the most earnest seeker for 
truth, who has not made an especial study 
of language. 

I have devoted myself for many years to 
studying the lights and shades of language 
and admire a moderate use of unusual 
words. But when instructing those un- 
accustomed to professional and technical 
phraseology, give me more of the plain 
Saxon. Houghton, Mifflin & Company, 
$2.50 net. 

John Spargo's book on "Socialism ; a 
Summary and Interpretation of Socialist 
Principles," is also beyond the pale of 
my intelligence. Edwin Markham himself 
while believing that Socialism is working 
toward the ideal, points out that it means 
so many things in so many places, and 
often has attached to it so many things 
of which others calling themselves Social- 

E V E \ LIGHTS 3*' 

istS do not approve, that its most anient need I am disgusted with him and his 

disciples are apt to get confused and won- view of the duties of his position. 

<ler where they are at. Does Jack London give away the profits 

I gladly grasp his diagnosis as the true of his anarchistic and dangerous stuff? 

one and it must excuse me for not caring Not much ! 

to try to understand such a many sided His last collection of short stories, 

doctrine. When a young millionaire he- "Moon face," is as brutal and repulsive as 

comes a Socialist and professes the sin- anything he has done. 

cerest sympathy with the starving and No doubt my readers arc now ready to 

generally distressed, yet calmly announces advise me to select next month subjects 

that he has no intention of sharing his and books I can understand and I promise 

immense fortune with those so sorely in to do so. 

Even Lights 

By C. H. Collester 

The western torches flicker low 

And with declining beauty flare ; 
In crimson tints the embers glow 

And quell their former garish glare. 
One moment gleams the fleeting fire, 

And then to ashes, cold and gray, 
The sunset embers fade, expire, — 

An eventide has passed away. 

From out the eastern gloom are sent 

Faint splashes of a far-off light 
Till fiery glows the firmament 

Against the chasmy realms of night. 
Into the west these gleams advance, 

With shining points mark off the gloam ; 
Till glimmer o'er the full expanse 

Star-candles on a kindled dome. 

Then o'er the dim horizon line 

The bold moon peeps with beaming face. 
In homage now the star-hosts shine 

More softly, with a modest grace. 
So till the nightly watch is spent 

These spangling lights abide and burn; 
And, making darkness eloquent, 

Await the exiled sun's return. 

The -National- Society- of-NXrWomen 

The National Society and her Colonies 
opened their doors for the season last 
month. All the Presidents had reached 
home from their various outings and were 
"on deck," as the saying goes, at the 
start ; and all showed that their zeal and 
enthusiasm had been stimulated by the 
vacation in club life — if ever a New Eng- 
land woman's zeal lacks vitality when the 
New England cause is under discussion. 

"Old Home Week" was highly influen- 
tial in strengthening the ties of fraternal 
interests among the "good old stock," 
scattered so broadly over our Republic. 
Many re-visited in person their ancestral 
towns, but the thousands who could not 
give themselves that privilege were there 
in spirit, which with the aid of press re- 
ports and the letters and picture postals 
of friends, served a splendid stead. 

The National Society finds its members 
and the cause which is represented in the 
fraternity finely advanced through the in- 
fluence of "Old Home Week." One col- 
ony, whose bright and up-to-date Secre- 
tary was a part of a "Week's" interest, 
has need of twenty membership blanks at 
the start; and similar requests from other 
Colonies are coming in. 

Each year, more and more strongly, the 
New England element realize that reminis- 
cences of early life are not being kept be- 
fore the minds of rising generations, as 
they should be. These had largely to do 
with the making of our history, even 
though they are not recorded in it. The 
gttsrdiness of principle that prevailed can 


never be effaced ; and we of this genera- 
tion, forming as we do a connecting link 
between past and future generations, must 
constitute ourselves the media of commu- 
nication for transmitting these legends, 
and the National Society, as our organized 
means of dispensing such history 

In the rush of life, and under the en- 
vironment that is so greatly influenced 
by, and in some locations almost estab- 
lished by foreign immigration, we cannot 
overdo the matter of keeping astir our 
Anglo-Saxon New Englandism (pardon 
the term). 

The writer had the privilege in Septem- 
ber of attending the annual session of the 
Quaker Hill Conference, Pawling, New 
York. It is on the border line of Con- 
necticut and united as many from one 
state as the other. Their aim is, "The 
promotion of Bible study, the discussion 
of vital problems of the present day, and 
the quickening of spiritual life." The 
session lasted a week and closed with a 
Rhode Island clambake. Could anything 
be more New England? And it was a 
real "Old Home "Week," too, and brought 
together descendants of the fine old fami- 
lies that settled Quaker Hill in early 
Colonial days. Originally it was con- 
sidered a part of Connecticut; and geo- 
graphically and in sentiment, it is really 
so now, though separated politically. 

A subsequent copy of the magazine will 
contain an article on the town of Sher- 
man, Connecticut, that nestles close against 
the hills of which Quaker Hill is king, 



and which yet holds itself secluded from 
railroad and trolley traffic, though con- 
nected with the outside world by means 
of a telephone. 

One of our own members, Mrs. E. M. 
Scott, a flower artist of note, has her sum- 
mer home on Quaker Hill. It is an eye- 
mark of antiquity and rustic beauty to all 
who visit the Hill. Part of the house 
was built in 1759, and has suffered no re- 
modelling, save the enlarging of the win- 
dows. One entire side of this original 
room is occupied by the old fireplace and 
brick oven. Over the old-time mantle 
hangs the old musket, and all other acces- 
sories of the Colonial kitchen have been 

The Board of Managers of the National 
Society held their first meeting on Sep- 
tember 27th, and swung into line for the 
season's responsibilities. 

The President's reception was held Oc- 
tober 20th, and was an occasion of great 
interest and pleasure. It is the re-union 
after the summer's vacation, the renewal 
of old friendships and the formation of 
new ones with new members. The Colo- 
nies send a new representation each year, 
and while the absence of the members that 
came in previous years is regretted, it is 
considered necessary "club rotation," a 
method that gives all a fair chance . for 

Mrs. Theodore Frelinghuysen Seward, 
the National President is widely known in 
club circles. She possesses a calm dignity 
that characterizes every function at which 
she presides; and a vein of humor run- 
ning parallel with this keeps all hearts 
light. She was assisted in receiving by 
the Vice Presidents, Mrs. Charles Gilmore 
Kerley and Miss Lizzie Woodbury Law, 
the Secretaries and Treasurers. 

As Mrs. Seward resides out of town, 
the reception was held in a hotel instead 
of in a private home as has heretofore 
been the case ; but this did not detract 
from the home cordiality of the occasion. 
A large attendance was present both from 
the Parent Society and the nearby Colo- 

Mrs. Seward has introduced several in- 
novations this year ; one is, making the 
whist afternoons free to all, including the 
representatives from the Colonies ; and 
dispensing with prizes. The afternoons 
devoted to cards will therefore be for the 
pleasure of the games, and for social in- 
terests. No one will go home disappoint- 
ed at lack of winning a coveted prize. 

Programs, schedules, etc., are appearing 
on bulletin boards and on printed "en- 
gagement cards" for general distribution. 

The following have been forwarded for 
publication : 

National Society of New England Women 
Headquarters 531 Fifth Ave., New York 


Oct. 20, Sat. Reception by the President, 
Mrs. Theodore Frelinghuy- 
sen Seward, Hotel Astor, 
Broadway and 44th street 
Oct. 25, Thurs. Business meeting 2.30 p. m. 
Social Hour 4.00 p. m. 
Nov. 6, Tues. Whist 2.30 p. m. 

Nov. 22, Thurs. Literary 2.30 p. m. 
Dec. it, Tues. Reception 12.00 m. 

Luncheon 1.00 p. m. 
Dec. 27, Thurs. Business meeting 2.30 p. m. 
Social Hour 4.00 p. m. 
Jan. 3, Thurs. Whist 2.30 p. m. 

Jan. 15, Tues. Literary 2.30 p. m. 

Jan. 24, Thurs. Organization Day 3.00 p. m 

Twelfth Birthday 
Feb. 12, Tues. Literary 2.30 p. m. 

Feb. 28, Thurs. Annual meeting 2.00 .p m. 

Polls open from 1.00 to 3.30 p. m. 
Mar. 5, Tues. Reception 12.00 m. 

Luncheon 1.00 p. m. 
Mar. 19, Tues. Whist 2.30 p. rm 

Apr. 10, Wed. Literary 2.30 p. m. 

Apr. 25, Tfiurs. Business meeting 2.30 p. m. 
Annual Reports of Officers and Chair- 
men of Committees 
Installation of Officers 

Colony Two, Buffalo, National Society of 
New England Women 


1906- 1907 

Subject — New England Women 


October nth 

Lydia H. Sigourney 

November 8th 
Dorothea L. Dix 

December 13th 
Lydia Maria Child 

January 10th 
Margaret Fuller Ossoli 

February 14th 
Mary A. Livermore 

March 14th 
Helen Hunt Jackson 

April nth 
Harriet Hosmer Anne Whitney 

Colony Four, Washington, intends re- 
suming the work begun in the spring, that 
of bringing out papers on "Beginnings of 
the New England Colonies." Their first 



meeting was held Oct. 19th and a most 
excellent paper by Mrs. Gilhllan was read 
on •"First Settlements of Connecticut.'' 
Mrs. Barrol also entertained most pleasing- 
ly on •"Summer Reminiscences."' The great 
event of the year with Colony Four, is the 
celebration of Forefathers' Day. 

Colony Seven. Pittsburgh. Pennsylvania, 
celebrated "President's Day." the first 
Tuesday of October. Mrs. Rider a local 
pianist of note gave a lecture on New 
England composers, illustrating it with 
selections from the various ones. 

Subsequent programs are to be arranged 
In- members whose ancestry represents 
different states— those of Maine leading 
for November. Of course this suggests 
rivalry for the various states. Colony 

Seven has interspersed as an extra meet- 
ing, a lecture by Miss Ida Tarbell on 'In- 
tellectual Integrity." It goes without say- 
ing that this will call a fine audience of 

Colony Eight, Brooklyn, New York, has 
set aside Thursdays, November 8th, Jan- 
uary 10th, March 14th and May 9th for 
literary and social interests. They always 
have fine programs ; and have increased 
to such a large membership that they can 
no longer meet in private houses. 

Toledo, Ohio, was formally started in its 
year's work last month. It was organized 
in June under the presidency of Miss Tem- 
perance Pratt Reed, who is also a member 
of the Parent Society, and is already a 
flourishing member of the fraternity. 

The Dwarf Pines 

By Jessie Wallace Hughan 

Our roots are set in the barren sand, 

Our heads in the ocean breeze, 
And the scent of our spices floats to land 

With the salt of the heaving seas, 
But we never shall brace the good ship's hull 

Or stand as the sturdy mast, 
Or distance the flocks of the screaming gull, 

As the north wind whistles past. 

From the inland mountains a lubber-pine, 

So shapely and straight and tall, 
That never has breathed the breath of brine, 

Or sheltered the sea-bird's call, — 
Shall proudly rise with the swelling tides 

And hoist the dripping sail, 
And tower on high where the pennant rides 

And the cordage creaks in the gale. 

So our starveling boughs we stretch to the main, 

And sigh to the surges' roar, 
Till our twisted branches fall in vain 

For the fisher fires on the shore, — 
But to fly with the foam of the trackless brine 

And battle the waves alone, 
Shall be to the hardy lubber-pine, 

That the sea has never known. 


Copyiigl t 1901, by W. J. Raer 

New England Magazine 

December, 1 906 

Volume XXXV 


Number 4 

Madonnas in New England Museums 


THE approach of Christmastide, 
which is annually made the 
text for literary moralizing 
•on almost countless themes, will 
•doubtless justify a little preachment 
•on the accessibility to our New 
England public of a considerable 
number of important and interest- 
ing representations of the Madonna 
and Child, and of the comparative 

to engage at a very reasonable price 
a gentleman whose business it is to 
explain in terms of a knowledge 
which, if not deep, is at least as 
glib as constant repetition can 
make it. Even in such conditions, 
however, the rapid procession 
through the galleries of London, 
Paris, Dresden, Florence and Mad- 
rid must be worth while — else it 

neglect in which works of art of would not be joined by so. many 

this character too often remain. 
Most of our people visit European 
galleries of paintings, if at all, not 
more than once or twice in a life- 
time. They then hurry along, 
sometimes "following the man from 
Cook's," or, as often, urged for- 
ward by the aunt from Bangor or 
Brattleboro who is ambitious to be 
able to tell "the folks" at home of 
the immense mileage she has cov- 
ered. The pictures, by the great- 
est masters of painting, are often 
seen without adequate preparation ; 
though, of course, it is possible at 
many of the famous art collections 


Yet one is probably safe in say- 
ing that very few in the aggregate 
of our people in the many years in 
which they do not see the other side 
ever think of making any of the 
entertaining studies of European 
masterpieces that are easily made 
among the collections of our local 
art museums. Five hundred dol- 
lars is sometimes a small price to go 
to Madrid and look at the canvases 
by Velasquez in the Prado, while 
five cents' carfare and fifty minutes' 
time are often too much for an ap- 
preciative scrutiny of the two un- 





doubtedly genuine works by the 
greatest of all painters which are 
owned by the Boston Museum of 
Fine Arts. The art study idea, to 
be sure, is being slowly fostered 
among us. There is, for example, 
the committee on the utilization of 
the Museum of Fine Arts which, 
with the cooperation of Simmons 
College, conducts classes in art ap- 
preciation for the benefit of teach- 
ers and others. But nine out of ten 
I ersons who have studied, or who 
would study, pictures and sculp- 
tures abroad are content very oc- 
casionally — or never — to visit their 
liome museums — usually for the 

purpose of exhibiting the exhibi- 
tions to a cousin from Kankakee or 

Now suppose that as a proper 
recognition of the spirit of the an- 
niversary which all Christendom 
celebrates, one were to make a lit- 
tle quest in almost any of the art 
museums with which New England 
has been plentifully provided, for 
reproduced or original reproduc- 
tions of the Mother and Child. The 
motive of such an investigation 
need not be presupposed. It might 
be one of intense piety, or of 
scholarly interest, or simply of -lik- 
ing for beautiful things. The point 





to be made is that such an investi- three of our museums whose doors 
gation would discover abundance of are open every day in the week to 
material — copies and photographic, any studiously inclined visitor. 

or engraved reproductions at every 
museum of any standing; collec- 
tions of originals of prime value and 
international reputation in at least 

• 3* 

"Madonnas in our museums" is 
an interesting alliteration; it might 
easily be made the theme, should a 
detailed studv be carried on of the 


pictorial treasures of the Museum 
of Fine Arts, Boston, the Fogg Mu- 
seum of Art, Cambridge, and the 
Yale Art School, New Haven, of a 
profitable little amateur or profes- 
sional essay or appreciation. The 
course which such an investigation 
would take, whether critical, liter- 
ary, mystical or historical, must de- 
pend necessarily upon the tastes 
and desires of the student. The 
richness, at all events, of the origi- 

nal art exemplifying one of the 
most fascinating of subjects dealt 
m by painters of the Middle Ages 
and the Renaissance is at least evi- 
dent to whoever is familiar with the 
collections of these three great 
treasure houses. 

Without attempt either to clas- 
sify, or to describe with the full- 
ness of detail of a catalogue, let us 
glance at a few of the opportuni- 
ties offered in these museums to be- 





come acquainted, through works of 
admitted authenticity, with the con- 
ceptions of divine motherhood held 
by painters of the ages of faith and 
the ages of individual expression. 
From a crude but sincere little "Ma- 
donna and Child" of the twelfth 
century in the Jarves collection at 
New Haven, a work painted much 
as a child of ten might have exe- 
cuted it, down to George De For- 
est Brush's consummately clever 

"Mother and Child," which, though 
not, certainly, a representation of 
the historic Virgin and Sou, might 
by an enthusiastic admirer be re- 
garded as typifying the divine in 
maternity, there is indeed no such 
unbroken series as could be fol- 
lowed through the greatest Euro- 
pean museums, but there is at least 
a considerable choice of very good 
canvases illustrating various indi- 
vidual and national modes of treat- 





ing a familiar theme; and that with- 
out taking into account the less 
universally accessible treasures of 
the Isabella Stuart Gardner Mu- 
seum in the Fenway, Limited. 

The subjective treatment of the 
motherhood theme perhaps pleases 
the interested investigator — an ab- 
stract and decorative way of depict- 
ing mother and child without giving 
sense of red blood and respiration. 
Sandro Botticelli then is your man, 
the impassioned dreamer of the 
.Renaissance, the "mirror reflecting 
all the tendencies of his time," im- 
pressionably devoted in his later 
years to the teachings of Fra Giro- 
lamo. Even those who cannot 
study his work in Florence may see 
a little of it in Puritan New Eng- 
land. From the thin and weak 
"Mother and Child" in the Boston 
Museum which used to be labeled 
"Botticelli" bu1 which is now at- 

tributed to "the school of" we shall 
perhaps have to turn away, and, 
more reluctantly, from the magnifi- 
cent "Chigi Madonna" in Mrs. 
Gardner's collection, which we may 
view only occasionally as a treat 
at two dollars each visit, to a very 
beautiful canvas at New Haven, in 
which a well drawn child holds a 
pomegranate, the emblem of hope 
and immortality. The canvas is 
one which such critics as Mr. Ber- 
nard Berensen and Mr. William 
Rankin have praised highly and it 
is astonishingly little known to the 
general public. 

Naively realistic representation 
of the Virgin and the infant Jesus 
is often delightful. We do not re- 
sent it if the Florentine painter has 
plainly made use of Italian models 
whose characteristics he studied 
faithfully, without slightest regard 
for archaeological or ethnological 





accuracy. In the days of the great 
awakening no painter thought it 
necessary to travel to the Holy 
Land, there to paint from Hebrew 
models in the actual localities 
where Biblical events occurred. 
Particularly pleasing, also, to this 
day and generation are the Flemish 
and early German masterpieces 
with which the artists were neces- 
sarily most familiar; and of the 
faithful and vigorous manner of 


Rogier van der We}^den, religious 
minded and upright burgher of 
Brussels in the early fifteenth cen- 
tury, the Museum of Fine Arts 
owns a superb picture — the "St. 
Luke Drawing the Portrait of the 
Madonna." This canvas, later put 
into order by Curator John Briggs 
Potter, has become recognized as 
one of the very important posses- 
sions of the Museum. Of it, Mr. 
William Rankin, lecturer on Italian 




art at Wellesley College, says : "In Of original works of Italian real- 

spite of its obscure pedigree it is 
certainly an original work, and is 
superior in every respect to the re- 
puted original at Munich." The 
charming attitude of the mother 
who is posing, the minutely studied 
mediaeval background, together, with 
various other technical considera- 
tions, make this a picture which 
the artists admire with something of 
the enthusiasm they feel for the 
peerless Pieter de Hoogh. 

ism produced in the most glorious- 
period of Florentine art there ap- 
pears in the Museum of Fine Arts 
one that is particularly notable and; 
beautiful, a sculpture in glazed terra) 
cotta, the gift of the late C. C. Per- 
kins, depicting in high relief a Ma- 
donna of classically regular fea- 
tures, who holds a shapely and well 
modeled child. The infant nestles- 
closely about the mother's neck. 
In its simple fidelity to the facts of 





everyday motherhood such a repre- 
sentation is, of course, far away 
from the ancient priestly concep- 
tion of the maternity, but to many 
people it is not on that account the 
less agreeable as a work of art. It 
is a glazed replica, having the full 
value of an original, of a relief at 
the corner of the Via della Scala 
and the Via Orecallari in Florence. 
By some critics it is attributed to 
Andrea della Robbia. From whose- 
soever hand, it belongs among the 

examples of the world's noblest art. 
Of the same naturalistic tendency 
is that admirable little picture of 
the Jarves collection at New Haven 
"The Adoration of the Magi" by 
Luca Signorelli — a work that was 
held for many years in the arch- 
bishop's palace at Cortona. It re- 
veals the craftsmanship of one who, 
while capable of producing the 
most poetic pictures — as witness 
the Madonna of the Rospigliosi col- 
lection at Rome — was first and for- 






mostly a master of the facts of ana- 
tomical construction. 

The great Venetians who painted 
with sonorous contrasts of warm 
and cold color are in especial favor 
among collectors to-day. To see 
well authenticated works by that 
strongest of decorators Giovanni 
Bellini does not ordinarily befall us 
here — unless we attend the popular